(Law and religion overthrown.)
Are first mark'd out for sacrifice.

When, to a height their fury grown,
Finding too late he can't retire,
He proves the real Phaeton,
And truly sets the world on fire.

BALLAD.

To the Tune of "Commons and Peers.”

[This hitherto unpublished poem seems to have been one of the frequent squibs levelled by Swift against the Whigs, during the administration of Oxford: it is taken from an original MS. in the Dean's hand-writing, found among Mr Steele's papers.]

sut.

Alluding to the year 1641, when the great rebellion broke

II.

The kirk with applause

Is established by laws

As the orthodox church of the nation.
The bishops do own

It's as good as their own.
And this, Sir, is call'd moderation.

It's no riddle now

To let you see how

III.

A church by oppression may speed;
Nor is't banter or jest

That the kirk faith is best

On the other side of the Tweed.

For no soil can suit

With every fruit,

IV.

Even so, Sir, it is with religion:

The best church by far

Is what grows where you are, Were it Mahomet's ass or his pigeon.

V.

Another strange story

That vexes the Tory,

But sure there's no mystery in it,

That a pension and place,

Give communicants grace,
Who designs to turn tail the next minute.

VI.

For if it be not strange,

That religion should change,

As often as climates and fashions;

Then sure there's no harm,
That one should conform,
To serve their own private occasions.

VII.!

Another new dance,

Which of late they advance,

Is to cry up the birth of Pretender,
And those that dare own

heir to the crown,

Are traitors, not fit to defend her.

VIII.

That subject's most loyal That hates the blood royal, And they for employments have merit, Who swear queen and steeple, Were made by the people, And neither have right to inherit.

IX..

The monarchy's fixt,
By making on't mixt,

And by non-resistance o'erthrown;
And preaching obedience

Destroys our allegiance,

And thus the Whigs prop up the throne.

X.

That viceroy is best,

That would take off the test, And made a sham speech to attempt it;

* Lord Wharton.

But being true blue,

When he found 'twould not do, Swore, damn him, if ever he meant it.

XI.

'Tis no news that Tom Double,
The nation should bubble,
Nor is't any wonder or riddle,
That a parliament rump,

Should play hop, step, and jump,
And dance any jig to his fiddle.

XII.

But now, sir, they tell,

How Sacheverell,

By bringing old doctrines in fashion,
Hath, like a damn'd rogue,
Brought religion in vogue,
And so open'd the eyes of the nation.

XIII.

Then let's pray without spleen,
May God bless the queen,
And her fellow monarchs the people;
May they prosper and thrive,

Whilst I am alive,

And so may the church with the steeple.

A TALE OF A NETTLE.

[These verses occur on the same paper which contains the foregoing ballad, and are also in the Dean's hand-writing. They relate to the proposed repeal of the Test-act, and may be compared with the "Fable of the Bitches," p. 417.]

A MAN with expence and infinite toil,
By digging and dunging, ennobled his soil;
There fruits of the best your taste did invite,
And uniform order still courted the sight.
No degenerate weeds the rich ground produce,
But all things afforded both beauty and use:
Till from dunghill transplanted, while yet but a seed,
A nettle rear'd up his inglorious head.

The gard'ner would wisely have rooted him up,
To stop the increase of a barbarous crop ;
But the master forbid him, and after the fashion,
Of foolish good-nature, and blind moderation,
Forbore him through pity, and chose as much rather,
To ask him some questions, first how he came thither.
Kind sir, quoth the nettle, a stranger I come,
For conscience compelled to relinquish my home,
'Cause I would'nt subscribe to a mystery dark,
That the prince of all trees is the Jesuit's bark,*
An erroneous tenet I know, sir, that you,
No more than myself, will allow to be true.

* In allusion to the supremacy of Rome.