Then, honest Robin, of thy corpse beware;
Thou art not half so nimble as a hare:
Too ponderous is thy bulk to mount the sky;
Nor can you go to Hell before you die.
So keen thy hunters, and thy scent so strong,
Thy turns and doublings cannot save thee long.*

ON THE WORDS

BROTHER PROTESTANTS AND
FELLOW CHRISTIANS,

SO FAMILIARLY USED BY THE ADVOCATES FOR THE REPEAL OF
THE TEST-ACT IN IRELAND. 1733.

AN inundation, says the fable,
Overflow'd a farmer's barn and stable;
Whole ricks of hay and sacks of corn
Were down the sudden current borne;
While things of heterogeneous kind
Together float with tide and wind.
The generous wheat forgot its pride,
And sail'd with litter side by side;
Uniting all, to shew their amity,
As in a general calamity.

A ball of new-dropp'd horse's dung,
Mingling with apples in the throng,
Said to the pippin plump and prim,

See, brother, how we apples swim."

* This hunting ended in the promotion of Will and Bob. was no longer first minister, but Earl of Orford; and Will was no longer his opponent, but Earl of Bath.-H.

Thus Lamb, renown'd for cutting corns,
An offer'd fee from Radcliff scorns,
"Not for the world-we doctors, brother,
Must take no fees of one another."
Thus to a dean some curate sloven
Subscribes, "Dear sir, your brother loving."
Thus all the footmen, shoeboys, porters,
About St. James's, cry, "We courtiers.'
Thus Horace in the house will prate,
"Sir, we, the ministers of state.'

Thus at the bar the booby Bettesworth,*
Though half a crown o'erpays his sweat's worth;
Who knows in law nor text nor margent,
Calls Singletont his brother sergeant.
And thus fanatic saints, though neither in
Doctrine nor discipline our brethren,
Are brother Protestants and Christians,
As much as Hebrews and Philistines:
But in no other sense, than nature
Has made a rat our fellow-creature.
Lice from your body suck their food;
But is a louse your flesh and blood?
Though born of human filth and sweat, it
As well may say man did beget it.
And maggots in your nose and chin
As well may claim you for their kin.
Yet critics may object, why not?
Since lice are brethren to a Scot:
Which made our swarm of sects determine
Employments for their brother vermin.

* This provocation occasioned Bettesworth's personal attack upon the Dean, mentioned at length in the Life of the Author, and commemorated in the poems which follow.

† Henry Singleton, Esq., then prime sergeant, afterwards lordchief-justice of the common pleas, which he resigned, and was some time after made master of the rolls.-F.

VOL. XII.

2 D

But be they English, Irish, Scottish,
What Protestant can be so sottish,

While o'er the church these clouds are gathering,
To call a swarm of lice his brethren?

As Moses, by divine advice,
In Egypt turn'd the dust to lice;
And as our sects, by all descriptions,

Have hearts more harden'd than Egyptians;

As from the trodden dust they spring,
And, turn'd to lice, infest the king:
For pity's sake, it would be just,
A rod should turn them back to dust.
Let folks in high or holy stations
Be proud of owning such relations;
Let courtiers hug them in their bosom,
As if they were afraid to lose 'em :
While I, with humble Job, had rather
Say to corruption-" Thou'rt my father."
For he that has so little wit
To nourish vermin, may be bit.

BETTESWORTH'S EXULTATION

UPON HEARING THAT HIS NAME WOULD BE TRANSMITTED TO POSTERITY IN DR. SWIFT'S WORKS.

BY WILLIAM DUNKIN.

WELL! now, since the heat of my passion's abated,

That the Dean hath lampoon'd me, my mind is elated :

Lampoon'd did I call it ?—No-what was it then?
What was it?'Twas fame to be lash'd by his pen :
For had he not pointed me out, I had slept till
E'en doomsday, a poor insignificant reptile;
Half lawyer, half actor, pert, dull, and inglorious,
Obscure, and unheard of—but now I'm notorious :
Fame has but two gates, a white and a black one;
The worst they can say is, I got in at the back

one:

If the end be obtain'd 'tis equal what portal
I enter, since I'm to be render'd immortal:
So clysters applied to the anus, 'tis said,
By skilful physicians, give ease to the head-
Though my title be spurious, why should I be
dastard,

A man is a man, though he should be a bastard. Why sure 'tis some comfort that heroes should slay us,

If I fall, I would fall by the hand of Æneas;

And who by the Drapier would not rather damn'd be,

Than demigoddized by madrigal Namby?*

A man is no more who has once lost his breath; But poets convince us there's life after death.

They call from their graves the king, or the peasant;

Re-act our old deeds, and make what's past present:

And when they would study to set forth alike,

So the lines be well drawn, and the colours but strike,

Whatever the subject be, coward or hero,

A tyrant or patriot, a Titus or Nero;

To a judge 'tis all one which he fixes his eye on,
And a well-painted monkey's as good as a lion.

* Ambrose Philips.

The scriptures affirm (as I heard in my youth,
For indeed I ne'er read them, to speak for once truth)
That death is the wages of sin, but the just
Shall die not, although they be laid in the dust.
They say so; so be it, I care not a straw,
Although I be dead both in gospel and law;

In verse I shall live, and be read in each climate; What more can be said of prime sergeant or primate?

While Carter and Prendergast both may be rotten, And damn'd to the bargain, and yet be forgotten.

AN EPIGRAM.

INSCRIBED TO THE HONOURABLE SERGEANT KITE.

Now first published from a copy in the Dean's hand-writing, in possession of J. Connill, Esq.

IN your indignation what mercy appears, While Jonathan's threaten'd with loss of his ears; For who would not think it a much better choice, By your knife to be mangled than rack'd with your voice.

If truly you [would] be revenged on the parson, Command his attendance while you act your farce on; Instead of your maiming, your shooting, or banging, Bid Povey secure him while you are haranguing. Had this been your method to torture him, long since, He had cut his own ears to be deaf to your

nonsense.

* Povey was sergeant-at-arms to the House of Commons.