Imatges de pÓgina

I ll hold you a groat, and I wish I could

fee't, If your stockings were off, you could

shew cloven feet.

But hold, cry the bishops; and give

us fair play; Before you condemn us, hear what we

can say What truer affections could ever be shewn Than faving your souls by damning our


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 vi&tuals. Content, my good l--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


And God bless the Commons for biting the biters.

Το To the Reverend

Dr. SWIFT, D. S. P. D.

With a present of a paper-book

finely bound on his birth-day, November 30, 1732*. By the Right Hon. John Earl of Orrery. To ,

thee, dear Swift, these spotless

leaves I send; Small is the present, but sincere the friend. Think not so 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 specious front shines out with borrow'd

grace ; Though paste-boards, glitt'ring like a

tinsel'd coat,

A rasa tabula within denote:
Yet if a venal and corrupted age,
And modern vices should provoke thy


rage ; * It was occasioned by an of making him a present on annual'cuftom, which I found his birth-day. pursued among his friends,


If wain'd once more by their impending

fate, A sinking country and an injur'd state Thy great assistance should again demand And call forth reason to defend the land, Then shall we view these sheets with glad

surprize Inspir'd with thought, and speaking to

our eyes : Each vacant space shall then, enrich’d,

dispense True force of eloquence, and nervous fense; Inform the judgement, animate the heart, And sacred rules of policy impart. The spangled cov'ring, bright with splen

did ore,

Shall cheat the fight with empty show

no more :

But lead us inward to those golden mines, Where all thy soul in native lustre shines. So when the eye surveys some 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 te celestial mind!


Veres left with a silver fandish on the

dean of St. Patrick's dok on his birthday, by Dr. Delany.

I To serve a proud Iernian dame : Was long submitted to her will ; At length she loft me at quadrille. Through various shapes í often pass’d, Still hoping to have rest at laft: And still ambitious to obtain Admittance to the patriot dean ; And sometimes got within his door, * But soon turn'd out to serve the poor ; Not stroling idleness to aid, But honest industry decay'd, At length an artist purchas'd me, And wrought me to the shape you see.

This done, to Hermnes, I apply’d: O Hermes, gratify my pride;


fate to serve a fage, “ The greatest genius of his age; " That matchless pen let me iupply, “ Whose living lines will never die.”

66 Be it

* Alluding to 500l

. a year lent by the Dean, without interest, to poor tradesmen.

B. 4

I grant

I I grant your fuit, the God reply'd, And here he left me to refide.

Verses written by Dr. SWIFT, occafioned

by the foregoing presents. A

PAPER book is sent by Boyle,

Too neatly gilt for me to soil. Delany sends a silver ftandish, When I no more a pen can brandish. Let both around my tomb be plac’d: As trophies of a Mufe deceas'd: And let the friendly lines they writ In praise of long departed wit Be grav'd on either side in columns, More to my praise than all my volumes; To burst with envy, spite, and rage, The Vandals of the present age.


Hardship upon the LADIES.

Written in the Year 1733.

Poor ladies ! though their bus’ness 'Tis hard they must be busy night and

be to play,



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