Ill hold you a groat, and I wish I could fee't, If your ftockings were off, you could fhew cloven feet. But hold, cry the bishops; and give us fair play; Before you condemn us, hear what we can fay. What truer affections could ever be fhewn Than faving your fouls by damning our own? And have we not practis'd all methods to gain you; With the tithe of the tithe of the tithe to maintain you; Provided a fund for building you spittals? You are only to live four years without victuals. Content, my good 1-ds; but let us change hands; First take you our tithes, and give us your lands. So God bless the church, and three of our mitres ; And God bless the Commons for biting the biters. To To the Reverend Dr. SWIFT, D. S. P. D. With a prefent of a paper-book finely bound on his birth-day, November 30, 1732*. By the Right Hon. JOHN Earl of ORRERY. Το O thee, dear SWIFT, these spotless leaves I fend; Small is the prefent, but fincere the friend. Think not fo poor a book below thy care; Who knows the price that thou canst make it bear? Though tawdry now, and, like Tyrilla's face, The fpecious front fhines out with borrow'd grace; Though pafte-boards, glitt'ring like a tinfel'd coat, A rafa tabula within denote: Yet if a venal and corrupted age, rage; *It was occafioned by an annual'cuftom, which I found pursued among his friends, of making him a present on his birth-day. ORRERY. If wain'd once more by their impending fate, A finking country and an injur'd state Thy great affiftance should again demand And call forth reafon to defend the land, Then shall we view these sheets with glad furprize Infpir'd with thought, and fpeaking to our eyes: Each vacant space fhall then, enrich'd, difpenfe True force of eloquence, and nervous fenfe; Shall cheat the fight with empty fhow no more: But lead us inward to thofe golden mines, Where all thy foul in native luftre fhines. So when the eye furveys fome lovely fair, With bloom of beauty grac'd, with shape and air, How is the rapture heighten'd when we find Her form excell'd by he celeftial mind! Verfes left with a filver fandish on the dean of St. Patrick's defk on his birthday, by Dr. Delany. HITHER from Mexico I came To ferve a proud Iernian dame: Was long fubmitted to her will; At length fhe loft me at quadrille. Through various fhapes I often pafs'd, Still hoping to have reft at laft: And ftill ambitious to obtain Admittance to the patriot dean; And sometimes got within his door, * But foon turn'd out to ferve the Not ftroling idleness to aid, But honeft industry decay'd. At length an artist purchas'd me, And wrought me to the fhape you fee. poor; This done, to Hermes, I apply'd: "O Hermes, gratify my pride; "Be it my fate to serve a fage, "The greatest genius of his age; "That matchless pen let me fupply, "Whofe living lines will never die." * Alluding to 500l. a year lent by the Dean, without intereft, to poor tradesmen. I grant your fuit, the God reply'd, And here he left me to refide. Verfes written by Dr. SWIFT, occafioned by the foregoing prefents. A PAPER book is fent by Boyle, Be grav'd on either fide in columns, THE Hardship upon the LADIES. Written in the Year 1733. POOR ladies! though their bus'ness be to play, "Tis hard they must be bufy night and day: Why |