Are fo indulgent, and fo mild,
As if I were a darling child

So gentle is your whole proceeding,
That I could spend my life in reading.
You merit new employments daily:
Our thatcher, ditcher, gardener, baily.
And to a genius fo extensive
No work is grievous or offenfive;
Whether your fruitful fancy lies
To make for pigs convenient ftyes;
Or ponder long with anxious thought
To banish rats that haunt our vault:
Nor have you grumbled, reverend Dean,
To keep our poultry sweet and clean;
To fweep the manfion-house they dwell in,
And cure the rank unfavory smelling.

Now enter as the dairy hand-maid; Such charming butter never man made. Let others with fanatic face

Talk of their milk for babes of grace;
From tubs their fnuffling nonfenfe utter:
Thy milk fhall make us tubs of butter.
The bishop with his foot may burn it f.
But with his hand the Dean can churn it.
How are the fervants overjoy'd
To fee thy Deanfhip thus employ'd!
Inftead of poring on a book,
Providing butter for the cook!
Three morning hours you tofs and shake
The bottle till your fingers ake:
Hard is the toil, nor fmall the art,
The butter from the whey to part:
Behold a frothy fubftance rife;
Be cautious, or your bottle flies.
The butter comes, our fears are ceas'd;
And out you fqueeze an ounce at lealt.
Your reverence thus, with like fuccefs
(Nor is your skill or labour lefs),
When bent upon fome fmart lampoon.
Will tofs and turn your brain till noon;
Which, in its jumblings round the skull,
Dilates and makes the veel full:
While nothing comes but froth at first,
You think your giddy head will burft;
But, fqueezing out four lines in rhyme,
Are largely paid for all your time.

But you have rais'd your generous mind
To works of more exalted kind.
Palladio was not half fo fkill'd in
The grandeur or the art of building.
Two temples of magnific fize
Attract the curious traveller's eyes,
That might be envy'd by the Greeks;
Rais'd up by you in twenty weeks:
Here gentle goddels Cloacine
Receives all offerings at her thrine.
In feparate cells the he's and she's
Here pay their vows with bended knees:
For 'tis profane when fexes mingle,
And every nymph muft enter fingle,

A way of making butter for breakfafl, by filling a bottle with cream, and baking it till the butter comes.

It is a common faying, when the milk burnsto, that the devil or the bishop has fet his foot in it, the devil having been called bishop of hell.

And when the feels an inward motion,'
Come fill'd with reverence and devotion,
The bashful maid, to hide our blush,
Shall creep no more behind a bush;
Here unobferv'd the boldly goes,
As who fhould fay, to pluck a rofe.

Ye who frequent this hallow'd scene,
Be not ungrateful to the Dean;
But duly, ere you leave your station,
Offer to him a pure libation
Or of his own or Smedley's lay,
Or billet-doux, or lock of hay:
And, oh! may all who hither come,
Return with unpolluted thumb !

Yet, when your lofty domes I praise,
I figh to think of ancient days.
Permit me then to raife my style,
And fweetly moralize a while.

Thee, bounteous goddefs Cloacine,
To temples why do we confine?
Forbid in open air to breathe,
Why are thine altars fixt beneath?

When Satrun rul'd the skies alone
(That golden age to gold unknown),
This earthly globe, to thee affign'd,
Receiv'd the gifts of all mankind.
Ten thousand altars fmoking round
Were built to thee with offerings crown'd:
And here they daily votaries plac'd
Their facrifice with zeal and hafte :
The margin of a purling ftream
Sent up to thee a grateful fteam
(Though fometimes thou wert pleas'd to wink,
if Naiads fwept them from the brink).
Or where appointing lovers rove,
The shelter of a fhady grove;
Or, offer'd in fome flowery vale,
Were wafted by a gentle gale:
There many a flower abiterive grew,
The favourite flowers of yellow hue;
The crocus, and the daffodu,
The cowflip foft, and fweet jonquil.

But when at last ufurping Jove
Old Saturn from his empire drove;
Then gluttony with greafy paws
Her napkin pinn'd up to her jaws,
With watery chaps, and wagging chin,
Brac'd like a drum her oily skin;
Wedg'd in a fpacious elbow-chair,
And on her plate a treble share,
As if the ne'er could have enough,
Taught harmless man to cram and stuff.
She fent her pricft in wooden fhoes
From haughty Gaul to make ragoos;
Instead of wholefome bread and cheese,
To drefs their foups and fricaffees;
And, for our home-bred Britill cheer,
Botargo, catfup, and caveer.

This bloated harpy, iprung from hell,
Confin'd thee, goddeis, to a cell:
Sprung from her womb that impious line,
Contemners of thy rights divine.
Firit, lolling floth in woollen cap
Taking her after-dinner nap:
Pale droply with a fallow face,
Her belly burit, and flow her pace:
And lordly gout, wrapt up in for;
And wheezing afthma, loth to ftir:

Voluptuous cafe, the child of wealth,
Infecting this our hearts by stealth.
None feek thee now in open air,
To thee no verdant altars rear;
But in their cells and vaults obfcene
Prefent a facrifice unclean;

From whence unfavoury vapours rofe,
Offenfive to thy nicer nofe.

Ah! who, in our degenerate days,
As nature prompts, his offering pays?
Here nature never difference made
Between the fceptre and the spade.
Ye great ones, why will ye difdain
To pay your tribute on the plain?
Why will you place, in lazy pride,
Your altars near your coaches' fide;
When from the homeliet earthen ware
Are fent up offerings more fincere,
Than where the haughty duchefs locks
Her filver vafe in cedar box?

Yet fome devotion ftill remains
Among our harmless northern fwains,
Whole offerings, plac d in golden ranks,
Adorn our crystal rivers' banks;
Nor feldom grace the flowery downs,
With fpiry tops and copple-crowns;
Or gilding in a funny morn
The humble branches of a thorn.
Sc, poets fing, with golden bough
The Trojan hero paid his vow.

Hither, by lucklefs error led,
The crude confiftence oft' I tread:
Here, when my fhoes are out of cafe,
Usweeting gild the tarnish'd lace;
Here by the facred bramble ting'd,
My petticoat is doubly fring'd.

Be witnefs for me, nymph divine,
I never robb'd thee with defign:
Nor will the zealous Hannah pout
To wash thy injur'd offering out.

But ftop, ambitious Mufe, in time, Nor dwell on fubjects too fublime. In vain on lofty heels I tread, Ang to exalt my head; We hoop expanded wide and light, la vain I tempt too high a flight. Me Phœbus in a midnight dream Accofting faid, "Go fhake your cream.' Ee humbly minded, know your poft; Sweeten your tea, and watch your toast. Thee beft befits a lowly ftyle: Teach Dennis how to ftir the guile : With Peggy Dixon thoughtful fit, Leatriving for the pot and fpit. Take down thy proudly fweiling fails, Asd rub thy teeth, and pare thy nails: A: nicely carving fhow thy wit; but ne'er prefume to eat a bit : Turn every way thy watchful eye; And every guelt be fure to ply: Let never at your board be known An empty plate, except your own. Be there thy arts; nor higher aim Than what befits a rural dame.

TWELVE ARTICLES.

1. LEST it may more quarrels breed,
I will never hear you read.

II. By difputing, I will never,

To convince you, once endeavour.
III. When a paradox you stick to,
I will ne'er contradict you.

IV. When I talk, and you are heedlefs,
I will show no anger needlefs.

V. When your speeches are abfurd,
I will ne'er object a word.

VI. When you furious argue wrong,
I will grieve, and hold my tongue.
VII. Not a jeft or humorous ftory
Will I ever tell before ye:

To be chidden for explaining,
When you quite mistake the meaning,
VIII. Never more will I fuppofe,

You can tafte my verse or profe.
IX. You no more at me fhall fret,
While I teach, and you forget.

X. You fhall never hear me thunder,
When you blunder on, and blunder.

XI. Show your poverty of spirit,

And in drefs place all your merit;
Give yourself ten thousand airs;
That with me shall break no fquares.

XII. Never will I give advice,
Till you please to ask me thrice:
Which if you in fcorn reject,
"Twill be just as I expect.

Thus we both fhall have our ends
And continue fpecial friends.

THE REVOLUTION.

AT MARKET-HILL, 1730.

FROM diftant regions Fortune fends
An odd triumvirate of friends;
Where Phoebus pays a fcanty ftipend
Where never yet a codlin ripen'd:
Hither the frantic goddefs draws
Three fufferers in a ruin'd caufe:
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 fervice hard;
On either fide his honour's guard:
The Dean, to guard his honour's back,
Muft build a caftle at Drumlack ;
The Spaniard, fore against his will,
Muft raife fort at Market-hill.

And thus the pair of humble gentry ·
At north and fouth are pofted centry;
While, in his lordly castle fixt,
The Knight triumphant reigns betwixt :
And, what the wretches most resent,
To be his flaves, muft pay him rent;
Attend him daily as their chief,
Decant his wine, and carve his beef.
Oh, Fortune! 'tis a fcandal for thee
To fmile on those who are leaft worthy:
Weigh but the merits of the three,
His flaves have ten times more than he.

Proud Baronet of Nova Scotia !
The Dean and Spaniard muft reproach ye:
Of their two fames the world enough rings:
Where are thy fervices and fufferings?
What if for nothing once you kist,
Against the grain, a monarch's fift?
What if, among the courtly tribe,
You loft a place, and fav'd a bribe?
And then in furly mood came here
To fifteen hundred pounds a year,
And fierce against the Whigs harangu'd?
You never ventur'd to be hang'd.
How dare you treat your betters thus ?
Are you to be compar'd with us?

Come, Spaniard, let us from our farms
Call forth our cottagers to arms;
Our forces let us both unite,
Attack the foe at left and right;
From Market-hill's exalted head,

Full northward let your troops be led;
While I from Drapier's mount defcend,
And to the fouth my fquadrons bend.
New-river-walk with friendly fhade
Shall keep my host in ambuscade;
While you, from where the bason stands,
Shall fcale the rampart with your bands.
Nor need we doubt the fort to win;
I hold intelligence within.
True, Lady Anne no danger fears,
Brave as the Upton fan fhe wears;
Then, left upon onr first attack

Her valiant arm fhould force us back,
And we of all our hopes depriv'd;
I have a ftratagem contriv'd.

By thefe embroider'd high-heel'd fhoes
She fhall be caught as in a noofe;
So well contriv'd her toes to pinch,
She'll not have power to ftir an inch.
Thefe gaudy fhoes muft Hannah place
Direct before her lady's face;

The fhoes put on, our faithful portrefs
Admits us in, to ftorm the fortrefs;
While tortur'd Madam bound remains,
Like Montezume, in golden chains;
Or like a cat with walnuts fhod,
Stumbling at every step fhe trod.
ly hunters thus, in Borneo's ifle,
To catch a monkey by a wile,
The mimic animal amufe;

They place before him gloves and fhoes;
Which when the brute puts awkward on,
All his agility is gone:

In vain to frifk or climb he tries;

The huntimen feize the grinning prize.
But let us on our first affault
Secure the larder and the vault:

The valiant Dennis * you must fix on,
And I'll engage with Peggy Dixont:
Then, if we once can feize the key
And cheft that keeps my lady's tea,
They must surrender at difcretion;
And, foon as we have gain'd poffeffion,
We'll act as other conquerors do,
Divide the realm between us two:
Then (let me fee) we'll make the knight
Our clerk, for he can read and write;
But muft not think, I tell him that,
Like Lorimer t. to wear his hat:
Yet, when we dine without a friend,
We'll place him at the lower end.
Madam, whofe skill does all in drefs lie,
May ferve to wait on Mrs. Leflie;
But, left it might not be fo proper
That her own maid fhould over-top her,
To mortify the creature more,

We'll take her heels five inches lower.

For Hannah, when we have no need of her, "Twill be our intereft to get rid of her: And, when we execute our plot,

"Tis beft to hang her on the fpot;

As all your politicians wife

Dispatch the rogues by whom they rife.

TRAULUS.

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TOM AND ROBIN. 1730.
The Firf Part.

Tom. SAY, Robin, what can Traulus || mean
By bellowing thus against the Dean?
Why does he call him paltry fcribbler,
Papift, Jacobite, and Libeller;

Yet cannot prove a single fact?

Robin. Forgive him, Tom; his head is crackt.
T. What mifchief can the Dean have done him
That Traulus calls for vengeance on him?
Why muft he fputter, fpawl, and flaver it
In vain against the people's favourite?
Revile that nation-faving paper,
Which gave the Dean the name of Drapier?
R. Why, Tom, I think the cafe is plain;
Party and fpleen have turn'd his brain.

T. Such friendship never man profest,
The Dean was never so careft;
For Traulus long his rancour nurs'd,
Till, God knows why, at laft it burst.
That clumfy outside of a porter,
How could it thus conceal a courtier ?
R. I own, appearances are bad;

Yet ftill infift the man is mad.

T. Yet many a wretch in Bedlam knows
How to diftinguifh friends from foes;
And, though perhaps among the rout
He wildly flings his filth about,
He ftill has gratitude and fap'ence,

To fpare the folks that give him ha'pence;
Nor in their eyes at random piffes,
But turns afide like mad Ulyffles:

While Traulus all his ordure scatters To foul the man he chiefly flatters. Whence come thefe inconfiftent fits?

R. Why, Tom, the man has loft his wits.
T. Agreed: and yet, when Towzer fnaps
At people's heels with frothy chaps,
Hangs down his head, and drops his tail,
To fay he's mad, will not avail;
The neighbours all cry, "Shoot him dead,
Hang, drown, or knock him on the head."
So Traulus when he first harangu'd,
I wonder why he was not hang'd:
For of the two, without difpute,
Towzer's the lefs offenfive brute.

R. Tom, you mistake the matter quite ;
Your barking curs will feldom bite;
And though you hear him ftut-tut-tut-ter,
He barks as fast as he can utter.

He prates in fpite of all impediment,

While none believes that what he said he meant ;
Puts in his finger and his thumb

To grope for words, and out they come.
He calls you rogue; there's nothing in it,

He fawns upon you in a minute:

Begs leave to rail, but d-n his blood!

"He only meant it for your good:

"His friendship was exactly tim'd, "He shot before your foes were prim'd.

By this contrivance, Mr. Dean,

By G! I'll bring you off as clean-*
Then let him ufe you e'er fo rough,
"'Twas all for love," and that's enough.
But, though he sputter through a feffion,
It never makes the leaft impreffion :
Whate'er he speaks for madness goes,
With no effect on friends or foes.

T. The scrubbiest cur in all the pack
Can fet the mastiff on your back.
I own, his madness is a jeft,
If that were all. But he's poffeft,
Incarnate with a thousand imps,

To work whofe ends his madness pimps;
Who o'er each string and wire prefide,
Fil every pipe, each motion guide;
Directing every vice we find

In Scripture, to the devil aflign'd;
Sent from the dark infernal region,
In him they lodge, and make him legion.
Of brethren he's a falfe accufer;
A flanderer, traitor, and feducer;
A fawning, bafe, trepanning liar;
The marks peculiar of his fire.
Or, grant him but a drone at best,
A drone can raife a hornet's neft.
The Dean had felt their ftings before;
And muft their malice ne'er give o'er?
Still fwarm and buzz about his nose?
But Ireland's friends ne'er wanted foes.
A patriot is a dangerous post,
When wanted by his country most ;
Perverfely comes in evil times,
Where virtues are imputed crimes.
His guilt is clear, the proofs are pregnant ;
A traiter to the vices regnant.

This is the ufual excuse of Traulus, when be abu

fer you to others without provocation,

What fpirit, fince the world began, Could always bear to ftrive with man? Which God pronounc'd, he never would, And foon convinc'd them by a flood. Yet ftill the Dean on freedom raves; His spirit always ftrives with flaves. "Tis time at last to spare his ink, And let them rot, or hang, or funk.

TRAULUS.

The Second Part.

TRAULUS, of amphibious breed,
Motely fruit of mungrel feed;
By the dam from lordlings fprung,
By the fire exhal'd from dung:
Think on every vice in both;
Look on him, and fee their growth.

View him on the mother's fide,
Fill'd with falfehood, fpleen, and pride;
Pofitive and overbearing,

Changing ftill, and still adhering
Spiteful, peevish, rude, untoward,
Fierce in tongue, in heart a coward;
When his friends he most is hard on,
Cringing comes to beg their pardon;
Reputation ever tearing,

Ever dearest friendship fwearing;
Judgment weak, and passion ftrong,
Always various, always wrong;
Provocation never waits,

Where he loves, or where he hates;
Talks whate'er comes in his head;
Wishes it were all unfaid.

Let me now the vices trace,
From the father's fcoundrel race.
Who could give the booby fuch airs?
Were they mafons, were they butchers?
Herald, lend the muse an answer
From his atavus and grandfire:
This was dextrous at his trowel,
That was bred to kill a cow well:
Hence the greafy clumsy mien
In his drefs and figure feen;
Hence the mean and fordid foul,
Like his body, rank and foul;
Hence that wild fufpicious peep,
Like a rogue that fteals a fheep;
Hence he learnt the butcher's guile,
How to cut your throat and fmile;
Like a butcher, doom'd for life
In his mouth to wear his knife;
Hence he draws his daily food
From his tenants' vital blood.

Laftly, let his gifts be try'd,
Borrow'd from the mason's fide;
Some perhaps may think him able
In the ftate to build a Babel;
Could we place him in a station
To deftroy the old foundation.
True indeed, I fhould be gladder,
Could he learn to mount a ladder.
May he at his latter end
Mount alive, and dead defcend!
In him tell me which prevail,
Female vices moft, or male?

What produc'd him, can you tell? Human race, or imps of hell?

ROBIN AND HARRY *.

ROBIN to beggars, with a curse,
Throws the laft fhilling in his purse;
And, when the coachman comes for pay,
The rogue must call another day.

Grave Harry, when the poor are preffing,
Gives them a penny, and God's bleffing;
But, always careful of the main,
With two-pence left, walks home in rain.
Robin, from noon to night will prate,
Runs out in tongue, as in eftate:
And, ere a twelvemonth and a day,
Will not have one new thing to fay.
Much talking is not Harry's vice;
He need not tell a story twice:
And, if he always be fo thrifty,
His fund may last to five and fifty.

It fo fell out, that cautious Harry,
As foldiers ufe, for love must marry,
And, with his dame, the ocean croft;
(All for love, or the World weil Loft !)
Repairs a cabin gone to ruin,
Juft big enough to fhelter two in;
And in his houfe, if any body come,
Will make them welcome to his modicum;
Where Goody Julia milks the cows,
And boils potatoes for her fpoufe;
Or dearns his hofe, or mends his breeches,
While Harry's fencing up his ditches.

Robin, who ne'er his mind could fix,
To live without a coach and fix,
To patch his broken fortunes, found
A mistress worth five thousand pound;
Swears he could get her in an hour,
If Gaffer Harry would endow her;
And fell, to pacify his wrath,
A birth-right for a mess of broth.

Young Harry, as all Europe knows,
Was long the quinteffence of beaux;
But, when efpous'd, he ran the fate
That must attend the marry'd ftate;
From gold brocade and fhinning armour,
Was metamorphos'd to a farmer;
His grazier's coat with dirt befmear'd;
Nor twice a week will have his beard.
Old Robin, all his youth a floven,
At fifty-two, when he grew loving,
Clad in a coat of paduafoy,
A flaxen wig and waistcoat gay,
Powder'd from shoulder down to flank,
In courtly ftyle addreffes Frank;
Twice ten years older than his wife,
Is doom'd to be a beau for life;
Supplying thofe defects by dress,
Which I must leave the world to guess.

TO BETTY THE GRIZETE. 1730.

QUEEN of wit and beauty, Betty!
Never may the muse forget ye:

Sons of Dr. Leflic. Harry was a colonel in the Spanish fervice.

How thy face charms every fhepherd,
Spotted over like a leopard!
And thy freckled neck, difplay'd,
Envy breeds in every maid,
Like a fly-blown cake of tallow,
Or on parchment ink turn'd yellow;
Or a tawny fpeckled pippin,
Shrivel'd with a winter's keeping.

And, thy beauty thus difpatch'd,
Let me praise thy wit unmatch'd.
Sets of phrafes, cut and dry,
Evermore thy tongue fupply.
And thy memory is loaded
With old feraps from plays exploded:
Stock'd with repartees and jokes,
Suited to all Christian folks;
Shreds of wit, and fenfeless rhymes,
Blunder'd out a thousand times.
Nor wilt thou of gifts be fparing,
Which can ne'er be worfe for wearing;
Picking wit among collegians,
In the playhouse upper regions;
Where, in the eighteen-penny gallery,
Irish nymphs learn Irish raillery:
But thy merit is thy failing,
And thy raillery is railing.

Thus with talents well endu'd To be fcurrilous and rude; When you pertly raife your fnout, Fleer, and gibe, and laugh, and flout; This among Hibernian affes For fheer wit and humour paffes. Thus indulgent Chloe, bit, Swears you have a world of wit.

DEATH AND DAPHNE.

TO AN AGREEABLE YOUNG LADY, BUT EX
TREMELY LEAN, 1730.

DEATH Went upon a folemn day
At Pluto's hall his court to pay:
The phantom, having humbly kist
His grifly monarch's footy fift,
Prefented him the weekly bills
Of doctors, fevers, plagues, and pills.
Pluto, obferving, fince the peace
The burial-article decrease,

And, vext to see affairs miscarry,
Declar'd in council, Death must marry;
Vow'd he no longer could fupport
Old bachelors about his court;

The intereft of his realm had need
That death fhould get a numerous breed;
Young deathlings, who, by practice made
Proficient in their father's trade,
With colonies might stock around
His large dominions under ground.
A confult of coquettes below
Was call'd, to rig him out a beau :
From her own head Megæra takes
A periwig of twisted fnakes;
Which in the nicest fashion curl'd
(Like toupets of this upper world),
With flour of fulphur powder'd well,
That graceful on his fhoulders fell;
An adder of the fable kind,
In line direct hung down behind ¡