Imatges de pÓgina


Methought, when I this Poem read,
No Vessel but an Ass's Head,
Such frigid Fustian could contain ;
I mean the Head without the Brain:
The cold Conceits, the chilling Thoughts,
Went down like ftupifying Draughts :
I found my Head began to swim,
And Numbness crept through ev'ry Limb:
In haste, with Imprecations dire,
I threw the Volume in the Fire :
When, who could think, tho' cold as Ice,
It burnt to Ashes in a Trice.

How could I more inhance its Fame? Though born in Snow, it dy'd in Flame.

An excellent new Ballad; or the true

English * Dean to be hanged for a

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UR Brethren of England, who love us so dear,

And, in all they do for us, so kindly do mean,
A Blessing upon them, have sent us this Year,
For the Good of our Church a true English Dean.

A holier


SAWERIDGE, Dean of Ferns, lately deceased.

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A holier Priest ne'er was wrapt up in Crape,
The worst you can say, he committed a Rape.

In his Journey to Dublin, he lighted at Chester,

And there he grew fond of another Man's Wife; Burft into her Chamber, and wou'd have carest her; But the valu'd her Honour much more than her

She bustled and struggled, and made her Escape,
To a Room full of Guefts for fear of a Rape.

The Dean he pursu'd to recover his Game:

And now to attack her again he prepares;
But the Company stood in Defence of the Dame,
They cudgeld, and cuft him, and kickt him

down Stairs.
His Deanship was now in a damnable Scrape,
And this was no Time for committing a Rape.

To Dublin he comes, to the Bagnio he goes,

And orders the Landlord to bring him a Whore ; No Scruple came on him his Gown to expose,

'Twas what all his Life he had practis'd before. He had made himself drunk with the Juice of the

Grape, And got a good Clap, but committed no Rape.

V. The Dean, and his Landlord, a jolly Comrade,

Resolv’d for a Fortnight to swim in Delight ; For why, they had both been brought up to the

Trade Of drinking all Day, and of whoring all Night.

His Landlord was ready his Deanship to ape
In ev'ry Debauch, but committing a Rape.

This Protestant Zealot, this English Divine,

In Church and in State was of Principles found; Was truer than Steele to the Hanover Line,

And griev'd that a Tory should live above Ground. Shall a Subject so Loyal be hang'd by the Nape, For no other Crime but committing a Rape?

VII. By old Popish Canons, as wise Men have penn'd'em,

Each Priest had a Concubine, jure Ecclefiæ ; Who'd be Dean of Ferns without a Commendam?

And Precedents we can produce, if it please ye: Then, why should the Dean, when Whores are so

cheap, Be put to the Peril, and Toil of a Rape?

VIII. If Fortune should please but to take such a Crot

chet, (To thee I apply great Smedley's Successor) To give thee Lawn-Sleeves, a Mitre and Rochet, Whom would'st thou resemble I leave thee a

Guesser ;
But I only behold thee in * Atherton's Shape,
For Sodomy hang'd, as thou for a Rape.


* A Bishop of Waterford, sent from England a Hundred Years ago.

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Ah! dost thou not envy the brave Colonel Chartres,
Condemnd for thy Crime, at Threescore and

To hang him all England would lend him their

Yet he lives, and is ready to ravish agen.
Then throttle thy self with an Ell of strong Tape,
For thou hast not a Groat to attone for a Rape.

The Dean he was vex'd that his Whores were fo

Helong'd for a Girl that would ftruggle and squall;
He ravish'd her fairly, and fav'd a good Shilling;

But, here was to pay the Devil and all.
His Trouble and Sorrows now come in a Heap,
And hang'd he must be, for committing a Rape.

If Maidens are ravisht, it is their own Choice;

Why are they so wilful to struggle with Men ?
If they would but lye quiet, and stifle their Voice,

No Devil, or Dean could ravish 'em then.
Nor would there be need of a strong Hempen

Ty'd round the Dean's Neck, for committing a

Our Church and our State dear England maintains,
For which all true Protestant Hearts should be

She sends us our Band Sand DS,
And better would give us, if better she had ;


But, Lord how the Rabble will stare and will

gape, When the good English Dean is hang'd up


for a

The Revolution at Market-Hill,

Written in the Year 1730.


ROM distant Regions, Fortune sends

An odd Triumvirate of Friends ;
Where Phæbus pays a scanty Stipend,
Where never yet a Codling ripen’d:
Hither the frantick Goddess draws
Three Sufforers in a ruin'd Cause.
By Faction banish'd, here unite,
A Dean, a * Spaniard, and a Knight.
Unite; but on Conditions cruel ;
The Dean and Spaniard find it too well:
Condemn'd to live in Service hard ;
On either Side his Honour's Guard :
The Dean, to guard his Honour's Back,
Must build a Castle at + Drumlack,



* Col. HARRY LESLIE, who served and lived long in Spain.

+ The Irish Name of a Farm the Dean took, and was to þuild on, but changed his Mind, He called it Drapier's-Hill

. Vide that Poem.

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