Worse than the anarchy at sea,

Where fishes on each other prey;

Where every trout can make as high rants
O'er his inferiors, as our tyrants;
And swagger while the coast is clear:
But should a lordly pike appear,
Away you see the varlet scud,

Or hide his coward snout in mud,
Thus, if a gudgeon meet a roach,
He dares not venture to approach;
Yet still has impudence to rise,
And, like Domitian, leap at flies.

A VINDICATION OF THE LIBEL:

OR, A NEW BALLAD,

WRITTEN BY A SHOE-BOY, ON AN ATTORNEY WHO WAS FORMERLY A SHOE-BOY.

Qui color ater erat, nunc est contrarius atro."

WITH singing of ballads, and crying of news, With whitening of buckles, and blacking of shoes, Did Hartley* set out, both shoeless and shirtless, And moneyless too, but not very dirtless; Two pence he had gotten by begging, that's all; One bought him a brush, and one a black ball; For clouts at a loss he could not be much, The clothes on his back as being but such;

* See the next poem.-F.

Thus vamp'd and accoutred, with clouts, ball, and brush,

He gallantly ventured his fortune to push :
Vespasian thus, being bespatter'd with dirt,
Was omen'd to be Rome's emperor for't.
But as a wise fiddler is noted, you know,
To have a good couple of strings to one bow;
So Hartley judiciously thought it too little,
To live by the sweat of his hands and his spittle :
He finds out another profession as fit,

And straight he becomes a retailer of wit.

One day he cried-" Murders, and songs, and great

news!"

Another as loudly-" Here blacken your shoes!" At Domvile's full often he fed upon bits,

*

For winding of jacks up, and turning of spits;
Lick'd all the plates round, had many a grubbing,
And now and then got from the cook-maid a
drubbing;

Such bastings effect upon him could have none:
The dog will be patient that's struck with a bone.
Sir Thomas, observing this Hartley withal
So expert and so active at brushes and ball,
Was moved with compassion, and thought it a pity
A youth should be lost, that had been so witty :
Without more ado, he vamps up my spark,
And now we'll suppose him an eminent clerk!
Suppose him an adept in all the degrees
Of scribbling cum dasho, and hooking of fees;
Suppose him a miser, attorney per bill,

Suppose him a courtier-suppose what you will-
Yet, would you believe, though I swore by the Bible,
That he took up two news-boys for crying the libel?+

* Sir T. Domvile, patentee of the Hanaper office.-F. †The proposal for regulation of quadrille. See Vol. VII. p. 364.

A FRIENDLY APOLOGY FOR A CERTAIN JUSTICE OF PEACE.

BY WAY OF DEFENCE OF HARTLEY HUTCHINSON, Esq.

BY JAMES BLACK-WELL, OPERATOR FOR THE FEET.

But he by bawling news about,
And aptly using brush and clout,
A justice of the peace became,
To punish rogues who do the same.

I SING the man of courage tried,
O'errun with ignorance and pride,
Who boldly hunted out disgrace
With canker'd mind, and hideous face;
The first who made (let none deny it)

The libel-vending rogues be quiet.

The fact was glorious, we must own,

HUDIE.

For Hartley was before unknown,
Contemn'd I mean ;-for who would choose
So vile a subject for the Muse?

'Twas once the noblest of his wishes
To fill his paunch with scraps from dishes,
For which he'd parch before the grate,
Or wind the jack's slow-rising weight,
(Such toils as best his talents fit,)
Or polish shoes, or turn the spit;
But, unexpectedly grown rich in
Squire Domvile's family and kitchen,
He pants to eternize his name,
And takes the dirty road to fame;
Believes that persecuting wit
Will prove the surest way to it;

So with a colonel* at his back,
The Libel feels his first attack;
He calls it a seditious paper,
Writ by another patriot Drapier;

Then raves and blunders nonsense thicker
Than alderman o'ercharged with liquor;
And all this with design, no doubt,
To hear his praises hawk'd about;
To send his name through every street,
Which erst he roam'd with dirty feet;
Well pleased to live in future times,
Though but in keen satiric rhymes.
So, Ajax, who, for aught we know,
Was justice many years ago,
And minding then no earthly things,
But killing libellers of kings;
Or if he wanted work to do,

To run a bawling news-boy through;
Yet he, when wrapp'd up in a cloud,
Entreated father Jove aloud,
Only in light to shew his face,
Though it might tend to his disgrace.
And so the Ephesian villain fired
The temple which the world admired,
Contemning death, despising shame,
To gain an ever-odious name.

* Colonel Ker, a Scotchman, lieutenant-colonel to Lord Harrington's regiment of dragoons, who made a news-boy evidence against the printer.-F.

VOL. XII.

2 F

AY AND NO. A TALE FROM DUBLIN.

WRITTEN IN 1737.

IN 1737, the gold coin had sunk in current value to the amount of 6d. in each guinea, which made it the interest of the Irish dealers to send over their balances in silver. To bring the value of the precious metals nearer to a par, the Primate, Boulter, who was chiefly trusted by the British government in the administration of Ireland, published a proclamation reducing the value of the gold coin threepence in each guinea. This scheme was keenly opposed by Swift; and such was the clamour excited against the archbishop, that his house was obliged to be guarded by soldiers. The two following poems relate to this controversy, which was, for the time it lasted, nearly as warm as that about Wood's halfpence. The first is said to be the paraphrase of a conversation which actually passed between Swift and the archbishop. The latter charged the Dean with inflaming the mob, "I inflame them?" retorted Swift, " were I to lift but a finger, they would tear you to pieces."

AT Dublin's high feast sat Primate and Dean, Both dress'd like divines, with band and face clean: Quoth Hugh of Armagh, "The mob is grown bold." Ay, ay," quoth the Dean, "The cause is old gold." No, no," quoth the Primate, "if causes we sift, This mischief arises from witty Dean Swift." The smart one replied, "There's no wit in the case; And nothing of that ever troubled your grace. Though with your state sieve your own notions you split,

A Boulter by name is no bolter of wit.

It's matter of weight, and a mere money job;
But the lower the coin the higher the mob.