Who both our follies and impertinences fee,
Do laugh perhaps at theirs, and pity mine and me.
But cenfure's to be understood
Th' authentic mark of the elect,
The public stamp heav'n fets on all that's great
and good,

Our fhallow fearch and judgment to direct.
The war methinks has made

Our wit and learning narrow as our trade;
Instead of boldly failing far, to buy
A stock of wisdom and philofophy,

We fondly stay at home, in fear
Of every cenfuring privateer;

Forcing a wretched trade by beating down the fale,
And felling bafely by retail.

The wits, I mean the atheists of the age, Who fain would rule the pulpit as they do the Wondrous refiners of philofophy,

Of morals and divinity,

[ftage;

By the new modifh fyftem of reducing all to sense,
Against all logic and concluding laws,
Do own th' effects of Providence,
And yet deny the cause.

This hopeful fect, now it begins to fee
How little, very little, do prevail

Their firft and chiefeft force
To cenfure, to cry down, and rail,
Not knowing what, or where, or who you be,
Will quickly take another course :

And, by their never-failing ways
Of folving all appearances they please,
We foon fhall fee them to their ancient methods fall,
And straight deny you to be men, or any thing at

all.

I laugh at the grave answer they will make, Which they have always ready, general, and cheap: "Tis but to fay, that what we daily meet,

And by a fond mistake

Perhaps imagine to be wondrous wit,
And think, alas! to be by mortals writ,
Is but a crowd of atoms juftling in a heap,

Which from eternal feeds begun,

Juftling fome thousand years till ripen'd by the sun;
They're now, juft now, as naturally born,
As from the womb of earth a field of corn.

But as for poor contented me,

Who must my weakness and my ignorance confefs, That I believe in much I ne'er can hope to fee; Methinks I'm fatisfy'd to guefs

That this new, noble, and delightful scene Is wonderfully mov'd by fome exalted men, Who have well ftudied in the world's disease (That epidemic error and depravity,

Or in our judgment or our eye), That what furprifes us can only please. We often fearch contentedly the whole world round, To make fome great difcovery;

And scorn it when 'tis found.

Juft fo the mighty Nile has fuffer'd in its fame, Becaufe 'tis faid (and perhaps only faid) We've found a little inconfiderable head,

That feeds the huge unequal ftream. Confider human folly, and you'll quickly own, That all the praises it can give,

By which fome fondly boaft they fhall for ever live, Won't pay th' impertinence of being known: Elfe why should the fam'd Lydian king

(Whom all the charms of an ufurped wife and state, With all that power unfelt courts mankind to be great,

Did with new unexperienc'd glories wait) Still wear, ftill doat, on his invisible ring? Were I to form a regular thought of fame, Which is perhaps as hard t' imagine right

As to paint echo to the fight;

I would not draw th' idea from an empty name;
Because alas! when we all die,
Carelefs and ignorant pofterity,

Although they praise the learning and the wit,
And though the title feems to fhow
The name and man by whom the book was writ,
Yet how fhall they be brought to know,
Whether that very name was he, or you, or I?
Lefs fhould I daub it o'er with transitory praife,
And water-colours of these days:

Thefe days! where e'en th' extravagance of poetry Is at a lofs for figures to exprefs

Men's folly, whimfies and inconftancy,

And by a faint defcription makes them lefs. Then tell us what is fame, where shall we search Look where exalted virtue and religion fit [for it? Enthron'd with heavenly wit!

Look where you fee

The greatest scorn of learned vanity!

And then how much a nothing is mankind! Whose reason is weigh'd down by popular air, Who, by that, vainly talks of baffling death; And hopes to lengthen life by a transfufion of

breath,

Which yet whoe'er examines right will find To be an art as vain as bottling up of wind! And when you find out these, believe true fame is there,

Far above all reward, yet to which all is due ; And this, ye great unknown? is only known in

you.

The juggling fea-god, when by chance trepan'd By fome instructed querift fleeping on the fand, Impatient of all anfwers, ftrait became

A ftealing brook, and strove to creep away
Into his native fea,

Vext at their follies, murmur'd in his ftream;
But, difappointed of his fond defire,
Would vanifh in a pyramid of fire.
This furly flippery god, when he defign'd
To furnish his escapes,

Ne'er borrow'd more variety of shapes
Than you to please and fatisfy mankind,
And seem (almost) transform'd to water, flame,

and air,

Of doubts, impertinence, and niceties,

From every age through which it pafs'd, But always with a ftronger relish of the last. This beauteous queen, by Heaven defign'd To be the great original

For man to drefs and polifh his uncourtly mind, In what mock habits have they put her fince the fall! [fages,

More oft' in fools' and madmen's hands than
She feems a medley of all ages,

With a huge fardingale to fwell her fustian stuff,
A new commode, a top-knot, and a ruff,
Her face patch'd o'er with modern pedantry,
With a long fweeping train

Of comments and difputes, ridiculous and vain,
All of old cut with a new dye:

How foon have you reftor'd her charms, And rid her of her lumber and her books, Dreft her again genteel and neat,

And rather tight than great!

How fond we are to court her to our arms!
How much of heaven is in her naked looks!

Thus the deluding Mufe oft' blinds me to her ways,
And ev❜n my very thoughts transfers
And changes all to beauty, and the praise
Of that proud tyrant fex of hers.
The rebel Mufe, alas! take part
But with my own rebellious heart,
And you with fatal and immortal wit confpire
To fan th' unhappy fire.

Cruel unknown! what is it you intend? Ah! could you, could you hope a poet for your friend!

Rather forgive what my first tranfport faid: May all the blood, which fhall by woman's fcorn

And which they've now the confciences to weigh

[us,

la the fame balance with our tears, And with fuch fcanty wages pay The bondage and the slavery of years. Let the vain fex dream on; the empire comes from And, had they common generosity, They would not use us thus. Well-though you've rais'd her to this high Ourfelves are rais'd as well as the ; [degree, And, fpite of all that they or you can do, 'Tis pride and happiness enough to me Still to be of the fame exalted sex with you.

Alas, how fleeting and how vain

lev'n the nobler man, our learning and our wit! I figh whene'er I think of it: As at the closing of an unhappy scene Of fome great king and conqueror's death, When the fad melancholy mufe Stays but to catch his utmost breath. grieve, this nobfer work moft happily begun,

So quickly and fo wonderfully carry'd on,
May fall at laft to intereft, folly, and abuse.
There is a noon-tide in our lives,

Which ftill the fooner it arrives,
Although we boaft our winter-fun looks bright,
And foolishly are glad to fee it at its height,
Yet fo much fooner comes the long and gloomy
night.

No conqueft ever yet begun,

And by one mighty hero carried to its height,
E'er flourish'd under a fucceffor or a fon;
It loft fome mighty pieces through all hands it paft,
And vanish'd to an empty title in the last.
For, when the animating mind is fled
(Which nature never can retain,
Nor e'er call back again),

The body, though gigantic, lies all cold and dead.
And thus undoubtedly 'twill fare
With what unhappy men fhall dare
To be fucceffors to their great unknown,
On Learning's high established throne.
Cenfure, and pedantry, and pride,
Numberless nations, ftretching far and wide,
Shall (I foresee it) foon with Gothic fwarms come
From ignorance's univerfal north. [forth
And with blind rage break all this peaceful go-

vernment:

Yet fhall these traces of your wit remain,
Like a juft map, to tell the vast extent
Of conqueft in your fhort and happy reign;
And to all future mankind fhow

How ftrange a parodox is true,

That men who liv'd and dy'd without a name Are the chief heroes in the facred lift of fame.

WRITTEN IN

A LADY'S IVORY TABLE-BOOK, 1699.

PERUSE my leaves through every part,
And think thou feeft my owner's heart,
Scrawl'd o'er with trifles thus, and quite
As hard, as fenfelefs, and as light;
Expos'd to every coxcomb's eyes,
But hid with caution from the wife.
Here you may read, "Dear charming faint!"
Here, in beau-spelling, "Tru tel deth ;"
Beneath, "A new receipt for paint;"

There, in her own, "For an el breth ;"
Here, "Lovely nymph, pronounce my doom!"
There, "A fafe way to ufe perfume:"
Here, a page fill'd with billets-doux ;
On t'other fide," Laid out for fhoes"
"Madam, I die without your grace”-
Who that had wit would place it here,
"Item, for half a yard of lace."
For every peeping fop to jeer;
In power of fpittle and a clout,
Whene'er he please, to blot it out;
And then, to heighten the difgrace,
Clap his own nonfenfe in the place?
Whoe'er expects to hold his part
In fuch a book, and fuch a heart,
If he be wealthy, and a fool,
Is in all points the fittest tool;
Of whom it may be juftly faid,
He's a gold pencil tipp'd with lead.

MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION, 1679. To their Excellencies the Lords Juftices of Ireland,the humble petition of Frances Harris, Who muft ftarve, and die a maid, if it mifcarries;

Humbly fheweth,

That I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's + chamber, becaufe I was cold;

And I had in a purfe feven pounds, four fhillings, and fixpence, befides farthings, in money and gold;

So, because I had been buying things for my Lady laft night,

I was refolv'd to tell my money, to see if it was right. Now, you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock,

Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very small stock,

I keep in my pocket, ty'd about my middle, next to my fmock.

So when I went to put up my purfe, as God would have it, my fmock was unript,

And, instead of putting it into my pocket, down it flipt;

Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my Lady to bed;

And, God knows, I thought my money was as fafe as my maidenhead.

So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light:

But when I fearch'd, and mifs'd my purfe, Lord! I thought I should have funk outright. Lord! Madam, fays Mary, how d' ye do? Indeed, fays I, never worfe:

But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with my purfe?

Lord help me! faid Mary, I never ftirr'd out of this place;

Nay, faid, I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain cafe.

So Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm: However, the ftole away my garters, that I might

do myself no harm.

So I tumbled and tofs'd all night, as you may very well think, [wink. But hardly ever fet my eyes together, or flept a So I was adream'd, methought that we went and fearch'd the folks round,

And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's ‡ box, ty'd in a rag, the money was found.

So next morning we told Whittle §, and he fell a-fwearing;

Then my dame Wadgar || came; and fe, you know, is thick of hearing.

Dame, faid I, as loud as I could bawl, do you know what a lofs I have had?

Nay, faid fhe, my Lord Colway's folks are all
very fad;
[out fail.
For my Lord Dromedary' ** comes a Tuefday with-
Pugh! faid I, but that's not the bufinefs that I ail.

The Earls of Bokeley and of Galway.
Lady Betty Berkeley, afterwards Germaine.
Wife to one of the footmen.

Earl of Berkeley's valet.

The old deaf boufekeeper.

Galway.

**The Earl of Drogheda, who, with the Primate,

was to fucceed the two Earls.

Says Cary, fays he, I have been a fervant this five and twenty years come fpring,

And in all the places I liv'd I never heard of fuch a thing.

Yes, fays the fteward, t, I remember, when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's,

Such a thing as this happen'd just about the time of geofeberries.

So I went to the party fufpected, and I found her full of grief,

(Now, you must know, of all things in the world, However, I am refolv'd to bring the difcourfe ftily I hate a thief.) [about:

Mrs. Dukes, faid 1, here's an ugly accident has happen'd out; [loufe ; "Tis not that I value the money three fkips of a But the thing I ftand upon is the credit of the houfe.

"Tis true, feven pounds, four fhillings, and fixpence, makes a great hole in my wages: Befides, as they fay, fervice is no inheritance in thefe ages.

Now,

Mrs. Dukes, you know, and every body understands,

That though 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands.

The devil take me! faid the (bleffing herself) if ever I faw't!

So fhe roar'd like a bedlam, as though I had call'd her all to naught.

So you know, what could I fay to her any more? I e'en left her, and came away as wife as I was before.

Well; but then they would had me gone to the cunning man! [here anon. No, faid I, 'tis the fame thing, the chaplain will be So the chaplain § came in. Now the servants say he is my fwee heart,

Because he's always in my chamber, and I always take his part.

So as the devil would have it, before I was aware, Parfon, faid I, can you caft a nativity, when a boout I blunder'd,

dy's plunder'd!

(Now, you must know, he hates to be call'd parfon like the devil!)

Truly, fays he, Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil;

If your money begone, as a learned divine fays, d'ye fee, [from me;

You are no text for my handling; fo take that I was never taken for a conjurer before, I'd have yon to know.

Lord! faid I, don't be angry, I am fure I never thought you fo;

You know I honour the cloth; I defign to be a parfon's wife; [my life; I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in all With that he twifted his girdle at me like a rope, as who fhould fay,

Now you may go hang yourfelf for me, and fo went away.

Well: I thought I would have fwoon'd. Lord! faid I, what shall I do!

[too!

I have lost my money, and fhall lofe my true love

ON THE GAME OF TRAFFIC,
Written at the Crftle of Dublin, 1699.

Mr Lord †, to find out who must deal,
Deliver cards about,

But the first knave does feldom fail
To find the Doctor out.

But then his Honour cry'd, Gadzooks!
And feem'd to knit his brow:

For on a knave he never looks,
Bu: h' thinks upon Jack How .
My Lady, though fhe is no player,
Some bangling partner takes,
And, wedg'd in corner of a chair,
Takes inuff, and holds the flakes.
Dame Floyd looks out in grave fufpenfe
For pair-royals and fequents;
But wifely cautious of her pence,
The caftle feldom fréquents.
Quoth Herries, fairly putting cafes,
I'd won it on my word,
If I had but a pair of aces,
And could pick up a third.
Bef Weften has a new-caft gown
On Sundays to be fine in,
And, if he can but win a crown,
"I will just new-dye the lining.
With thefe is Parfon Swift,
"Not knowing how to spend his time,
"Does make a wretched fhift,

“To deafen them with puns and rhyme."

A BALL A D,

To the tune of the Cut-Purse §.

Oxer on a time, as old stories rehearse,

A friar would needs fhow his talent in Latin;

Acant word of Lord and Lady B. to Mrs. Harris. The Earl of Berkeley. Paymaster of the army. Lady Betty Berkeley, finding the preceding verfes in the author's room unfinised, wrote under them the cm lading flanza, zubich gave occafion to this ballad, written by the author in a counterfeit land, as if a third prjon had done it,

But was forely put to't in the midst of a verfe, Because he could find no word to come pat in: Then all in the place

He left a void space,

And fo went to bed in a defperate cafe; [dle! Then behold the next morning a wonderful ridHe found it was ftrangely fill'd up in the middle. Cho. Let cenfuring critics then think what they lift on't ; [fftant? Who would not write verfes with fuch an af

This put me, the friar, into an amazement : For he wifely confider'd it must be a fprite; That he came through the key-hole, or in at the cafement; [and write: And it needs must be one that could beth read Yet he did not know

When folks came thick to make their court; Out flipt a mystery of ftate,

To give the town and country fport. Now enters Bufh with new state airs, His Lordfhip's premier minifter; And who in all profound affairs

Is held as needful as his clyfter. With head reclining on his shoulder, He deals and hears myfterious chat, While every ignorant beholder

Afks of his neighbour, Who is that? With this he put up to my Lord,

The courtiers kept their distance due, He twitch'd his fleeve, and stole a word; Then to a corner both withdrew.

Imagine now, my Lord and Bush

Whispering in junto most profound,
Like good king $ Phyz, and good king Ufh,
While all the reft ftood gaping round.

* To Ireland, as one of the Lords Juftices.

Bufb, by fome underband irfinuation, obtained the poft of fecretary, which had been promised to Swift. Always taken before my Lord went to council. § See The Rebearfal"

At length a fpark not too well bred,
Of forward face and ear acute,
Advanc'd on tipto, lean'd his head,
To over-hear the grand dispute :
To learn what northern kings defign,
Or from Whitehall fome new exprefs,
Papifts difarm'd, or fall of coin:

For fure (thought he) it can't be lefs.
My Lord, faid Bufh, a friend and I,
Difguis'd in two old thread-bare coats,
Ere morning dawn, ftole out to spy

How markets went for hay and oats, With that he draws two handfuls out, The one was oats, the other hay; Puts this to's Excellency's fnout,

And begs he would the other weigh.
My Lord feems pleas'd, but ftill directs
By all means to bring down the rates;
Then, with a congee circumflex,

Bufh, fmiling round on all, retreats.
Our liftener flood a while confus'd,
But, gathering fpirits, wifely ran for't,
Enrag'd to fee the world abus'd

By two fuch whifpering kings of Brentford.

THE PROBLEM,

THAT MY LORD BERKELEY STINKS, WHEN HE IS IN LOVE."

Din ever problem thus perplex,
Or more employ, the female fex?
So fweet a pation, who would think,
Jove ever form'd to make a ftink?
The ladies vow and fwear, they'll try,
Whether it be a truth or lie.

Love's fire, it feems, like inward heat,
Works in my Lord by ftool and fweat,
Which brings a ftink from every pore,
And from behind and from before;
Yet, what is wonderful to tell it,

None but the favourite nymph can fmell it.
But now, to folve the natural caufe
By fober philofophic laws:

Whether all paffions, when in ferment,
Work out as anger does in vermin;
So, when a weazel you torment,
You find his paffion by his fcent.
We read of kings, who, in a fright,
Though on a throne, would fall to fh-.
Befide all this, deep scholars know,
That the main ftring of Cupid's bow
Once on a time was an a- gut;
Now to a nobler office put,

By favour or defert preferr'd
From giving paffage to a t-;

But fill, though fix'd among the stars,
Does fympathife with human a-.
Thus, when you feel an hard-bound breech,
Conclude love's bow-ftring at full ftretch,
Till the kind loofenefs comes, and then
Conclude the bow relax'd again.

And now, the ladies all are bent
To try the great experiment,
Ambitious of a regent's heart,
Spread all their charms to catch a f―;

Watching the first unfavoury wind,
Some ply before, and fome behind.
My Lord, on fire amidst the dames,
F-ts like a laurel in the flames.
The fair approach the speaking part,
To try the back-way to his heart:
For, as when we a gun difcharge,
Although the bore be ne'er fo large,
Before the flame from muzzle burst,
Juft at the breech it flashes first ;
So from my lord his paffion broke,
He fd first, and then he spoke.

The ladies vanish in the fmother,.
To confer notes with one another;
And now they all agreed to name
Whom each one thought the happy dame.
Quoth Neal, whate'er the reft may think,
I'm fure 'twas I that smelt the ftink.
You fmell the ftink! by G-, you lie,
Quoth Rofs, for I'll be fworn 'twas I.
Ladies, quoth Levens, pray forbear:
Let's not fall out; we all had share;
And, by the moft I can discover,
My lord's an univerfal lover.

Pliny, Nat. Hift. Lib. x. c. 67. lib. xxix. c. 4p

As maftiff dogs in modern phrase are
Call'd Pompey, Scipio, and Cæfar;
As pyes and daws are often ftyl'd
With Chriftian nicknames, like a child;
As we fay Monfieur to an ape,
Without offence to human fhape;
So men have got, from bird and brute,
Names that would beft their natures fuit.
The lion, eagle, fox, and bodr,
Were heroes titles heretofore,
Beftow'd as hieroglyphics fit

To fhow their valour, ftrength, or wit:
For what is understood by fame,
Befides the getting of a name?
But, e'er fince men invented guns,
A different way their fancy runs:

To paint a hero, we inquire

For fomething that will conquer fire.
Would you defcribe Turenne or Trump?
Think of a bucket or a pump.

Are thefe too low ?-then find out grander,
Call my Lord Cuts a falamander.
"Tis well;-but, fince we live among
Detractors with an evil tongue,
Who may object against the term,
Pliny fhall prove what we affirm:
Pliny fhall prove, and we'll apply,
And I'll be judg'd by ftanders-by.

First, then, our author has defin'd
This reptile of the ferpent kind,
With gaudy coat and fhining train;
But loathfome fpots his body ftain:
Out from fome hole obscure he flies,
When rains defcend, and tempefts rife,
Till the fun clears the air; and then
Crawls back neglected to his den.

So, when the war has rais'd a storm,
I've feen a fnake in human form,