Religion he wishes may daily increase, But thinks her at present so much out of case, That as for her pastors he fairly would quarter 'em, Since Semen* ecclesiæ sanguis est martyrûm.

Or grant them united, his project will hold,

And still the church flourish, though never so old, While from her own members her nature she draws, As bears in Westphalia by sucking their paws.

But, lastly, to sum up your long accusation, He votes for the drovers that eat up the nation; They eat up the nation! (that scandal sarcastic Was broach'd by some covetous, proud ecclesiastic ;) They eat up the nation who float it with milk, And bring us in brandy, tea, claret, and silk; The drovers are honest men to all intents, Their votes they bestow us, and pay us our rents. Sir Thomas loves mutton and beef in their prime, And hopes to see nothing but stock here in time; The drovers he stands for, and tells you, moreover, That old father Abraham was but a drover : But as for your rectors, and bishops, their masters, Those mere allegorical, nominal pastors,

He wishes their drivers to heaven would speed 'em, And deems them a burthen to true British freedom.

Then who would endeavour to render notorious A knight so undaunted, a patriot so glorious? Who, sir, but the vilest of scribblers, or rather That dreadful Drawcansir, who libell'd his father? But tremble, ye wretches, for know the next session Each sinner shall pay for his present transgression. To work when the serjeant and I set our engines, Such sage resolutions shall pass with a vengeance, That you and the clergy shall all be as mute As fishes, and dumb as a church-mouse to boot.

The press shall be bound to such narrow restriction,

A capital letter shall pass for conviction.

If in a whole poem, without rhyme or reason,

One- but appear, then it shall be high treason.
No hawker or hawkers shall open their throats

In crying of paper, but journals and votes.
No poet or author shall dare to be witty,
Unless he be licensed first by a committee;

*The seed of the church is the blood of her martyrs.

And if any person should ever think fit
To rail at his morals, or carp at his wit,
All members shall hear him, however absurd,
And no man speak in his favour a word.
However, for ends or amusement, some folks
Caress him in private, and smile at his jokes,

Each senator circumspect there shall, before him,
Condemn him with silence, and seem not to know him.
Shake hands with Sir Thomas, shew how he can plod well,
With a sneer, and a shrug, and a wag of the noddle.

All true loyal members shall vote for a tax,
And parsons submit to a modus in flax,
But no saucy rector or prelate shall sue
For herbage hereafter, in courts as their due,
Unless peradventure they should be inclined.
To take it like Nebuchadnezzar in kind.

That error in state which so long hath prevail'd,
The test sacramental shall then be repeal'd;

Thus we with our brethren shall strengthen the union,
By sharing all places without a communion.

No merchant or tradesman shall then demand payment,
From member whatever, for meat, drink, or raiment,
Or sue him at law for't, (a trespass not venial,)
Or murmur, though hector'd and kick'd by his menial.
These wise resolutions to keep man in awe,
Maturely consider'd, shall pass into law:

Whoever gainsays them, shall then be forthwith,
Like Faulkner and Waters,* committed to Smith. †

Two printers, who were sent to Newgate by the Irish House of Commons, for printing a very innocent paper on quadrille.

+Tom Smith, the keeper of Newgate, a most cruel, barbarous, inhuman, mercenary wretch.

On the back of this paper these.-A Vindication of S. T. P. sent me by an unknown hand, May 1736. By Dunkin, I am sure.

ON DR. RUNDLE, BISHOP OF DERRY.

1734-5.

MAKE Rundle bishop! fie for shame!
An Arian to usurp the name!

A bishop in the isle of saints!

How will his brethren make complaints!
Dare any of the mitred host
Confer on him the Holy Ghost:
In mother church to breed a variance,
By coupling orthodox with Arians?

Yet, were he Heathen, Turk, or Jew:
What is there in it strange or new?
For, let us hear the weak pretence,
His brethren find to take offence;
Of whom there are but four at most,
Who know there is a Holy Ghost;
The rest, who boast they have conferr'd it,
Like Paul's Ephesians, never heard it;
And, when they gave it, well 'tis known,
They gave what never was their own.
Rundle a bishop! well he may;
He's still a Christian more than they.
We know the subject of their quarrels ;
The man has learning, sense, and morals.
There is a reason still more weighty;
'Tis granted he believes a Deity.
Has every circumstance to please us,
Though fools may doubt his faith in Jesus.
But why should he with that be loaded,
Now twenty years from court exploded?
And is not this objection odd

From rogues who ne'er believed a God?

VOL. XII.

2 E

For liberty a champion stout,
Though not so Gospel-ward devout.
While others, hither sent to save us,
Come but to plunder and enslave us;
Nor ever own'd a power divine,
But Mammon, and the German line.

Say, how did Rundle undermine 'em?
Who shew'd a better jus divinum?
From ancient canons would not vary,
But thrice refused episcopari.

Our bishop's predecessor, Magus,
Would offer all the sands of Tagus;
Or sell his children, house, and lands,
For that one gift, to lay on hands:
But all his gold could not avail
To have the Spirit set to sale.
Said surly Peter, "Magus, prithee,
Be gone: thy money perish with thee.'
Were Peter now alive, perhaps,
He might have found a score of chaps,
Could he but make his gift appear
In rents three thousand pounds a-year.
Some fancy this promotion odd,

As not the handiwork of God;
Though e'en the bishops disappointed
Must own it made by God's anointed,
And well we know, the congé regal
Is more secure as well as legal;
Because our lawyers all agree,
That bishoprics are held in fee.

,,

Dear Baldwin * chaste, and witty Crosse,+ How sorely I lament your loss!

* Richard Baldwin, Provost of Trinity College in 1717. He left behind him many natural children.

† Rector of St. Mary's, Dublin, in 1722; before which time he had been chaplain to the Smyrna Company. See the Epistolary Correspondence, May 26, 1720.

That such a pair of wealthy ninnies

Should slip your time of dropping guineas;
For, had you made the king your debtor,
Your title had been so much better.

EPIGRAM.

FRIEND Rundle fell, with grievous bump,
Upon his reverential rump.

Poor rump! thou hadst been better sped,
Hadst thou been join'd to Boulter's head;
A head, so weighty and profound,

Would needs have kept thee from the ground.

A CHARACTER, PANEGYRIC, AND DESCRIPTION

OF

THE LEGION CLUB. 1736.

THIS poem was the last of any importance that the Dean ever composed. While engaged in retouching it, one of his fits of giddiness and deafness returned with such intense violence, that he never recovered from the consequences. The occasion of the satire is thus stated by my learned friend Mr. Berwick: "In the year 1733, a petition was presented to the House of Commons by Dr. Swift, Dr. Archibald Stewart, John Grattan, Daniel Jackson, &c., in behalf of the clergy of Ireland, to be heard by counsel, on a clause in the heads of a bill to encourage the linen manufacture, &c. See some reasons against the bill for settling