We cannot flatter you nor fawn,
But fain would honour'd be with lawn,
And settled by a wife.*

IV.

For this we have before resorted,
Paid levees + punctually, and courted,

Our charge at home long quitting,
But now we're come just in the nick,
Upon a vacant bishopric,

This bait can't fail of hitting.

V.

Thus, sir, you see how much affection,
Not interest, sways in this election,
But sense of loyal duty.
For you surpass all princes far,
As glow-worms do exceed a star,

In goodness, wit, and beauty.

VI.

To you our Irish Commons owe

That wisdom which their actions shew,

Their principles from ours springs, Taught, ere the deel himself could dream on't, That of their illustrious house a stem on't, Should rise the best of kings.

* The statutes of the university enjoin celibacy.

"Paid levees punctually, and courted." The provost was a most constant attendant at the levees at St. James's palace.

The see of Killaloe was then vacant, and to this bishopric the Reverend Dr. George Carr, chaplain to the Irish House of Commons, was nominated, by letters-patent. See Beatson's Political Index, p. 307. Edin. 1786. A.D. 1716.

VII.

The glad presages with our eyes
Behold a king, chaste, vigilant, and wise,
In foreign fields victorious,

Who in his youth the Turks attacks,
And [made] them still to turn their backs;
Was ever king so glorious?

VIII.

Since Ormond's like a traitor gone,
We scorn to do what some have done,

For learning much more famous;
Fools may pursue their adverse fate,
And stick to the unfortunate;

We laugh while they condemn us.

IX.

For, being of that gen'rous mind,
To success we are still inclined,

And quit the suffering side,
If on our friends cross planets frown,
We join the cry, and hunt them down,
And sail with wind and tide.

X.

Hence 'twas this choice we long delay'd,
Till our rash foes the rebels fled,

Whilst fortune held the scale;

But [since] they're driven like mist before you, Our rising sun, we now adore you,

Because you now prevail.

*. Alluding to the sullen silence of Oxford upon the accession.

XI.

Descend then from your lofty seat,
Behold th' attending Muses wait

With us to sing your praises;

Calliope now strings up her lyre,
And Clio Phoebus does inspire,

*

The theme their fancy raises.

XII.

If then our nursery you will nourish,
We and our Muses too will flourish,
Encouraged by your favour;
We'll doctrines teach the times to serve,
And more five thousand pounds deserve,
By future good behaviour.

XIII.

Now take our harp into your hand,
The joyful strings, at your command,

In doleful sounds no more shall

mourn.

We, with sincerity of heart,

To all your tunes shall bear a part,
Unless we see the tables turn.

XIV.

If so, great sir, you will excuse us,
For we and our attending Muses

May live to change our strain;
And turn, with merry hearts, our tune,
Upon some happy tenth of June,

To "the king enjoys his own again."

* This is spelled Chloe, but evidently should be Clio; indeed, many errors appear in the transcription, which probably were mistakes of the transcriber.

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG,

ON A SEDITIOUS PAMPHLET. 1720.

To the tune of " Packington's Pound."

THIS ballad alludes to the Dean's "Proposal for the use of Irish Manufactures," for which Waters the printer was prosecuted with great violence. Lord Chief-Justice Whitshed sent the jury repeatedly out of court, until he had wearied them into a special verdict.

BROCADES, and damasks, and tabbies, and gauzes, Are, by Robert Ballantine, lately brought over, With forty things more: now hear what the law says, Whoe'er will not wear them is not the king's lover. Though a printer and Dean, Seditiously mean,

Our true Irish hearts from Old England to wean, We'll buy English silks for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

In England the dead in woollen are clad,

The Dean and his printer then let us cry fye on; To be clothed like a carcase would make a Teague

mad,

Since a living dog better is than a dead lion.
Our wives they grow sullen

At wearing of woollen,

And all we poor shopkeepers must our horns pull in.

Then we'll buy English silks for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

Whoever our trading with England would hinder
To inflame both the nations do plainly conspire,
Because Irish linen will soon turn to tinder,
And wool it is greasy, and quickly takes fire.
Therefore, I assure ye,

Our noble grand jury,

When they saw the Dean's book, they were in a great fury;

They would buy English silks for their wives and their daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

This wicked rogue Waters, who always is sinning, And before coram nobis so oft has been call'd, Henceforward shall print neither pamphlets nor linen, And if swearing can do't shall be swingingly maul'd; And as for the Dean,

You know whom I mean,

If the printer will peach him, he'll scarce come off clean.

Then we'll buy English silks for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.