TRAULUS. PART I.

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TOM AND ROBIN.* 1730.

THE Dean in his Speech to the Corporation of Dublin, complains of the strictures passed upon him by Lord Allen. His lordship's allegations that Swift was disaffected, produced the following severe retort. See Vol. VII. pages 270-276, 284.

TOм. Say, what can Traulust mean

By bellowing thus against the Dean?

your own merit, your friends are authorized the more to proclaim it.

"Your generosity and easiness of temper, is not only obvious in your common affairs and conversation, but more plainly evident in your darling amusement, that opener and dilater of the mind, music; from your affection to this delightful study we may deduce the pleasing harmony that is apparent in all your actions; and be assured, Sir, that a person must be of a very divine soul, who is so much in love with the entertainment of angels.

"From your encouragement of music, if there be any poetry here, it has a claim, by a right of kindred, to your favour and affection. You were pleased to honour the representation of this play with your appearance at several times, which flattered my hopes that there might be something in it which your good nature might excuse. With the honour I here intend for myself, I likewise consult the interest of my nation, by shewing a person that is so much a reputation and credit to my country. Besides all this, I was willing to make a handsome compliment to the place of my pupilage, by informing the world that so fine a gentleman had the seeds of his education in the same University, and at the same time with, Sir, your most faithful and most humble servant, "GEORGE FARQUHAR.”

* Son of Dr. Charles Leslie. † Joshua Lord Allen.-F.

VOL. XII.

2 C

Why does he call him paltry scribbler,
Papist, and Jacobite, and libeller,
Yet cannot prove a single fact?

ROBIN. Forgive him, Tom: his head is crackt.
T. What mischief can the Dean have done him,
That Traulus calls for vengeance on him?
Why must he sputter, sprawl, and slaver it
In vain against the people's favourite?
Revile that nation-saving paper,

Which gave the Dean the name of Drapier?
R. Why, Tom, I think the case is plain;
Party and spleen have turn'd his brain.

T. Such friendship never man profess'd,
The Dean was never so caress'd;
For Traulus long his rancour nursed,
Till, God knows why, at last it burst.
That clumsy outside of a porter,
How could it thus conceal a courtier ?
R. I own, appearances are bad;

Yet still insist the man is mad.

T. Yet many a wretch in Bedlam knows
How to distinguish friends from foes;
And though perhaps among the rout
He wildly flings his filth about,
He still has gratitude and sap'ence,
To spare the folks that give him ha'pence ;
Nor in their eyes at random pisses,
But turns aside, like mad Ulysses;
While Traulus all his ordure scatters
To foul the man he chiefly flatters
Whence comes these inconsistent fits?

R. Why, Tom, the man has lost his wits.*

"In vain would his excusers endeavour to palliate his enormities, by imputing them to madness, because it is well known that madness only operates by in flaming and enlarging the good or evil dispositions of the mind," &c. Vindication of Lord Carteret, Vol. VII. p. 285.

T. Agreed and yet when Towzer snaps
At people's heels with frothy chaps,
Hangs down his head, and drops his tail,
To say he's mad will not avail;

The neighbours all cry, "Shoot him dead,
Hang, drown, or knock him on the head."
So Traulus, when he first harangued,
I wonder why he was not hang'd;
For of the two, without dispute,
Towzer's the less offensive brute.

R. Tom, you mistake the matter quite ;
Your barking curs will seldom bite;
And though you hear him stut-tut-tut-ter,
He barks as fast as he can utter.

He prates in spite of all impediment,

While none believes that what he said he meant ; Puts in his finger and his thumb

To grope for words, and out they come.

He calls you rogue; there's nothing in it,

He fawns upon you in a minute:

"Begs leave to rail, but, d-n his blood!
He only meant it for your good:
His friendship was exactly timed,
He shot before your foes were primed:
By this contrivance, Mr. Dean,

By G-! I'll bring you off as clean-"*
Then let him use you e'er so rough,
"'Twas all for love," and that's enough.
But, though he sputter through a session,
It never makes the least impression :
Whate'er he speaks for madness goes,
With no effect on friends or foes.

T. The scrubbiest cur in all the pack
Can set the mastiff on your back.

* This is the usual excuse of Traulus, when he abuses you to others without provocation.-SWIFT.

I own, his madness is a jest,

If that were all.

But he's possest

Incarnate with a thousand imps,

To work whose ends his madness pimps;
Who o'er each string and wire preside,
Fill ev'ry pipe, each motion guide;
Directing every vice we find

In Scripture to the devil assign'd;
Sent from the dark infernal region,
In him they lodge, and make him legion.
Of brethren he's a false accuser;
A slanderer, traitor, and seducer;
A fawning, base, trepanning liar;
The marks peculiar of his sire.
Or, grant him but a drone at best;
A drone can raise a hornet's nest.
The Dean had felt their stings before;
And must their malice ne'er give o'er?
Still swarm and buzz about his nose?
But Ireland's friends ne'er wanted foes.
A patriot is a dangerous post,
When wanted by his country most;
Perversely comes in evil times,
Where virtues are imputed crimes.
His guilt is clear, the proofs are pregnant ;
A traitor to the vices regnant.

What spirit, since the world began,
Could always bear to strive with man?
Which God pronounced he never would,
And soon convinced them by a flood.
Yet still the Dean on freedom raves;
His spirit always strives with slaves.
'Tis time at last to spare his ink,
And let them rot, or hang, or sink.

TRAULUS. PART II.

TRAULUS, of amphibious breed,
Motley fruit of mongrel seed;
By the dam from lordlings sprung,
By the sire exhaled from dung;
Think on every vice in both,
Look on him, and see their growth.
View him on the mother's side,*
Fill'd with falsehood, spleen, and pride;
Positive and overbearing,

Changing still, and still adhering;
Spiteful, peevish, rude, untoward,

Fierce in tongue, in heart a coward;
Reputation ever tearing,

Ever dearest friendship swearing:
Judgment weak, and passion strong,
Always various, always wrong;
Provocation never waits,

Where he loves, or where he hates;
Talks whate'er comes in his head;
Wishes it were all unsaid.

Let me now the vices trace,
From the father's scoundrel race.
Who could give the looby such airs?
Were they masons, were they butchers?
Herald, lend the Muse an answer
From his atavus and grandsire :†

The mother of Lord Allen was sister to Robert, Earl of Kildare.

† John, Lord Allen, father of Joshua, the Traulus of the satire, was son of Sir Joshua Allen, Lord Mayor of Dublin in 1673, and grandson of John Allen, an architect in great esteem in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.