то

LOVE.

N all I wish how happy fhould I be,

IN

Thou grand deluder, were it not for the ?

So weak thou art, that fools thy pow'r de

fpife,

And yet fo ftrong, thou triumph'ft o'er the wise,

Thy traps are laid with fuch peculiar art,

They catch the cautious; let the rafh de

part.

Moft nets are fill'd by want of thought and

care,

But too much thinking brings us to thy fnare. Where held by thee in flavery we stay,

And throw the pleafing part of life away. But what does moft my indignation move, Difcretion, thou wer't ne'er a friend to Love! Thy chief delight is to defeat those arts, By which he kindles mutual flames in hearts; While the blind loit'ring God is at his play, Thou fteal'ft his golden-pointed darts away;

Thofe

Thofe darts which never fail; and in their

ftead

Convey'ft malignant arrows tipt with lead:
The heedlefs God, fufpecting no deceits,

Shoots on, and thinks he has done wond'rous feats;

But the poor nymph, who feels her vitals burn,
And from her fhepherd can find no return,
Laments and rages at the power divine,
When, curs'd Difcretion! all the fault was
thine.

Cupid and Hymen thou haft fet at odds,

And bred fuch feuds betwixt thofe kindred

gods,

That Venus cannot reconcile her fons;

When one appears, away the other runs.
The former fcales, wherein he us'd to poise
Love against love, and equal joys with joys,
Are now fill'd up with avarice and pride,
Where titles, power, and riches ftill fubfide.
Then, gentle Venus, to thy father run,
And tell him how thy children are undone;
Prepare his bolts to give one fatal blow,
And ftrike Difcretion to the fhades below.

The

The following lines were wrote upon a very old glafs of Sir Arthur Achefon's.

FRAIL glafs, thou mortal art as well

as I,

Though none can tell, which of us first fhall die.

Anfwer'd extempore by Dr. SWIFT.

We both are mortal; but thou, frailer creature,

May'ft die, like me, by chance, but not by nature.

VERSES cut by two of the DEAN'S friends, upon a pane of glafs in one of bis parlours.

ABARD, on whom Phœbus his spirit

bestow'd,

Refolving t’acknowledge the bounty he

ow'd,

*These were written by Dr.. Delany in conjunction with Stella, and produced the

verfes intituled Apollo to the Dean, which are printed above, p. 22.

Found

Found out a new method at once of confeffing,

And making the moft offo mighty a bleffing,

To the God he'd be grateful, but mortals he'd choufe

By making his patron prefide in his house. And wifely forefaw this advantage from thence,

That the God would in honour bear moft of th' expence :

So, the bard he finds drink, and leaves Phoebus to treat

With the thoughts he infpires, regardlefs of

meat.

Hence they, that come hither expecting dine,

Are always fobb'd off with sheer wit and fheer wine.

AR

On another Window.

RE the guests of this house still doom'd to be cheated?

Sure the fates have decreed they by halves fhould be treated.

In the days of good* John, if you came here to dine,

You had choice of good meat, no choice of good wine.

In Jonathan's reign, if you come here to

eat,

You have choice of good wine, no choice of good meat.

Oh Jove! then how fully might all fides be bleft,

Would'st thou but agree to this humble request ?

Put both deans in one; or, if that's too much trouble,

Instead of the deans, make the deanry double.

* Dr. John Stear ne, late lord bishop of Clogher, who had been the predeceffor of Dr. Swift in the deanry of St.

Patrick's, and was always diftinguished for his great hofpitality."

An