TORY. I own it was a dangerous project,
And you have proved it by dog-logic.
Sure such intelligence between
A dog and bishop ne'er was seen,
Till you began to change the breed ;
Your bishops are all dogs indeed!
A QUIBBLING ELEGY ON JUDGE
To mournful ditties, Clio, change thy note,
Since cruel fate has sunk our Justice Boat;
Why should he sink, where nothing seem'd to press,
His lading little, and his ballast less?
Tost in the waves of this tempestuous world,
At length, his anchor fix'd and canvas furl'd,
To Lazy-hill* retiring from his court,
At his Ring's end † he founders in the port.
With water fill'd, he could no longer float,
The common death of many a stronger boat.
A post so fill'd on nature's laws entrenches:
Benches on boats are placed, not boats on benches.
And yet our Boat (how shall I reconcile it?)
Was both a Boat, and in one sense a pilot.
With every wind he sail'd, and well could tack:
Had many pendants, but abhorr'd a Jack.§
* A street in Dublin, leading to the harbour.-F.
† A village near the sea.-F.
It was said he died of a dropsy.-F.
§ A cant word for a Jacobite.-F..
He's gone, although his friends began to hope,
That he might yet be lifted by a rope.
Behold the awful bench, on which he sat!
He was as hard and ponderous wood as that:
Yet when his sand was out, we find at last,
That death has overset him with a blast.
Our Boat is now sail'd to the Stygian ferry,
There to supply old Charon's leaky wherry;
Charon in him will ferry souls to Hell;
A trade our Boat * has practised here so well:
And Cerberus has ready in his paws
Both pitch and brimstone, to fill up his flaws.
Yet, spite of death and fate, I here maintain
We may place Boat in his old post again.
The way is thus: and well deserves your thanks:
Take the three strongest of his broken planks,
Fix them on high, conspicuous to be seen,
Form'd like the triple tree near Stephen's Green :†
And, when we view it thus with thief at end on't,
We'll cry; look, here's our Boat, and there's the
pendant.
HERE lies Judge Boat within a coffin:
Pray, gentlefolks, forbear your scoffing.
A Boat a judge! yes; where's the blunder?
A wooden judge is no such wonder.
And in his robes you must agree,
No boat was better deckt than he.
'Tis needless to describe him fuller;
In short, he was an able sculler.
* In condemning malefactors, as a judge.-F. Where the Dublin gallows stands.-F.
Query, Whether the author meant scholar, and wilfully mistook?-Dublin Edit.
VERSES OCCASIONED BY WHITSHED'S*
MOTTO ON HIS COACH. 1724.
LIBERTAS et natale solum:†
Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em.
Could nothing but thy chief reproach
Serve for a motto on thy coach?
But let me now thy words translate:
Natale solum, my estate;
My dear estate, how well I love it,
My tenants, if you doubt, will prove it,
They swear I am so kind and good,
I hug them till I squeeze their blood.
Libertas bears a large import:
First, how to swagger in a court;
And, secondly, to shew my fury
Against an uncomplying jury;
And, thirdly, 'tis a new invention,
To favour Wood, and keep my pension;
And, fourthly, 'tis to play an odd trick,
Get the great seal and turn out Broderick; †
And, fifthly, (you know whom I mean,)
To humble that vexatious Dean :
And, sixthly, for my soul to barter it
For fifty times its worth to Carteret.§
* That noted chief-justice who twice prosecuted the Drapier, and dissolved the grand jury for not finding the bill against him.-F.
This motto is repeatedly mentioned in the Drapier's Letters. See Vol. VII. page 7.
Allan Broderick, Lord Viscount Middleton, was then lordchancellor of Ireland.-F.
§ Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland.
Now since your motto thus you construe,
I must confess you've spoken once true.
Libertas et natale solum :
You had good reason when you stole 'em.
VERSES ON THE REVIVAL OF THE ORDER OF THE BATH,
DURING WALPOLE'S ADMINISTRATION, A.D. 1724.
QUOTH King Robin, our ribbons I see are too few Öf St. Andrew's the green, and St. George's the blue.
I must find out another of colour more gay,
That will teach all my subjects with pride to obey.
Though the exchequer be drain'd by prodigal donors,
Yet the king ne'er exhausted his fountain of honours.
Men of more wit than money our pensions will fit,
And this will fit men of more money than wit.
Thus my subjects with pleasure will obey my com-
mands,
Though as empty as Younge, and as saucy as
Sandes.
And he who'll leap over a stick for the king,
Is qualified best for a dog in a string.
* These verses were communicated by the kindness of Dr. Barrett, from a copy in his father's hand-writing. The subject and style authorize the tradition which ascribes them to Swift.
EPIGRAM ON WOOD'S BRASS MONEY.
CARTERET was welcomed to the shore
First with the brazen cannon's roar;
To meet him next the soldier comes,
With brazen trumps and brazen drums;
Approaching near the town he hears
The brazen bells salute his ears:
But when Wood's brass began to sound,
Guns, trumpets, drums, and bells, were drown'd.
A SIMILE ON OUR WANT OF SILVER,
AND THE ONLY WAY TO REMEDY IT. 1725.
As when of old some sorceress threw
O'er the moon's face a sable hue,
To drive unseen her magic chair,
At midnight, through the darken'd air;
Wise people, who believed with reason
That this eclipse was out of season,
Affirm'd the moon was sick, and fell
To cure her by a counter spell.
Ten thousand cymbals now begin,
To rend the skies with brazen din;
The cymbals' rattling sounds dispel
The cloud, and drive the hag to hell.
The moon, deliver'd from her pain,
Displays her silver face again.
Note here, that in the chemic style,
The moon is silver all this while.
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