And 'twas but juft; for wife men say,
That every dog muft have his day.
Dog Walpole laid a quart of nog on't,
He'd either make a bog or dog on't;
And look'd, fince he has got his wish,
As if he had thrown down a difb.
Yet this I dare foretel you from it,
He'll foon return to his own vomit.

Whig. Befides, this horrid plot was found By Neynoe, after he was drown'd.

Tory. Why then the proverb is not right, Since you can teach dead dogs to bite. Whig. I prov'd my propofition full: But Jacobites are ftrangely dull. Now let me tell you plainly, Sir, Our witness is a real cur,

A dog of spirit for his years,

Has twice two legs, two hanging ears;
His name is Harlequin, I wot,
And that's a name in every plot :
Refolv'd to fave the British nation,
Though French by birth and education;
His correfpondence plainly dated,
Was all decypher'd and tranflated:
His answers were exceeding pretty
Before the fecret wife committee:
Confefs'd as plain as he could bark;
Then with his fore-foot fet his mark.

1

Tory. Then all this while have I been bubbled,
I thought it was a dog in doublet:
The matter now no longer sticks;

For statesmen never want dog-tricks.
But fince it was a real cur,
And not a dog in metaphor,

I give you joy of the report,

That he's to have a place at court.

Whig. Yes, and a place he will grow rich in ;
A turn-spit in the royal kitchen.
Sir, to be plain, I tell you what,
We had occafion for a plot :

And, when we found the dog begin it,
We guess'd the bishop's foot was in it.
Tory. I own it was a dangerous project;
And you have prov'd it by dog-logic.
Sure fuch intelligence between
A dog and bishop ne'er was feen,
Till you began to change the breed;
Your bishops all are dogs indeed!

STELLA AT WOOD.PARK.

A Houfe of Charles Ford, Efq. near Dublin. 1723.

"Cuicumque nocere volebat,
"Vestimenta dabat pretiofa."

DON Carlos in a merry spight,
Did Stella to his houfe invite ;
He entertain'd her half a year
With generous wines and coftly cheer.
Don Carlos made her chief director,
That the might o'er the fervants hector.
In half a week the dame grew nice,
Got all things at the highest price:
Now at the table-head the fits,
Prefented with the niceft bits:

She look'd on partridges with fcorn,
Except they tafted of the corn;
A haunch of venison made her sweat,
Unless it had the right fumette.
Don Carlos earnestly would beg,
Dear madam, try this pigeon's leg;
Was happy, when he could prevail
To make her only touch a quail.
Through candle-light the view'd the wine,
To fee that every glafs was fine.
At laft, grown prouder than the devil
With feeding high and treatment civil,
Don Carlos now began to find
His malice work as he defign'd.
The winter-sky began to frown;
Poor Stella muft pack off to town:

From purling ftreams and fountains bubbling,
To Liffy's ftinking tide at Dublin;
From wholefome exercife and air,

To foffing in an easy chair;

From ftomach sharp, and hearty feeding,
To piddle like a lady breeding;

From ruling there the household fingly,
To be directed here by Dingley ;
From every day a lordly banquet,
To half a joint, and God be thanked ;
From every meal Pontack in plenty,
To half a pint one day in twenty;
From Ford attending at her call,
To vifits of

From Ford who thinks of nothing mean,
To the poor doings of the Dean;
From growing richer with good cheer,
To running-out by farving here.

But now arrives the dismal day;
She must return to Ormond Quay t

The coachman ftopt; the look'd, and swore
The rafcal had mistook the door:
At coming in, you saw her stoop;
The entry brush'd against her hoop:
Each moment riling in her airs,
She curft the narrow winding stairs;
Began a thousand faults to spy:
The cieling hardly fix feet high;
The fmutty wainscoat full of cracks,
And half the chairs with broken backs:
Her quarter's out at Lady-day;
She vows the will no longer stay
In lodgings like a poor Grizette,
While there are lodgings to be let.
Howe'er to keep her spirits up,
She fent for company to fup:
When all the while you might remark,
She ftrove in vain to ape Wood-park.
Two bottles call'd for (half her store;
The cupboard could contain but four):
A fupper worthy of herself,
Five nothings in five plates of delf.

Thus for a week the farce went on
When, all her country-favings gone,
She fell into her former scene,
Small beer, a herring, and the Dean.
Thus far in jeft: though now, I fear,
You think my jefting too severe ;

The conftant companion of Stella. Where the two ladies lodged.

But poets, when a hint is new,
No matter whether falfe or true:
Yet raillery gives no offence,

Where truth has not the leaft pretence;
Nor can be more fecurely plac'd
Than on a nymph of Stella's tafte.
I muft confefs, your wine and vittle
I was too hard upon a little :
Your table neat, your linen fine;
And, though in miniature, you shine:
Yet, when you figh to leave Wood-park,
The fcene, the welcome, and the spark,
To languifh in this odious town,
And pull your haughty ftomach down;
We think you quite mistake the cafe,
The virtue lies not in the place:
For, though my raillery were true,
A cottage is Wood-park with you.

COPY OF THE BIRTH-DAY VERSES

ON MR. FORD.

COME, be content, fince out it must,
For Stella has betray'd her trust;

And, whispering, charg'd me not to fay
That Mr. Ford was born to-day;
Or, if at laft I needs muft blab it,
According to my usual habit,
She bid me, with a ferious face,
Be fure conceal the time and place;
And not my compliment to spoil,
By calling this your native foil;
Or vex the ladies, when they knew
That you are turning forty-two:
But, if thefe topics fhall appear
Strong arguments to keep you here,
I think, though you judge hardly of it,
Good-manners must give place to profit.
The nymphs with whom you first began
Are each become a barridan ;
And Montague fo far decay'd,
Her lovers now muft all be paid;
And every belle that fince arose
Has her contemporary beaux.
Your former comrades, once fo bright,
With whom you toafted half the night,
Of rheumatism and pox complain,
And bid adieu to dear champaign.
Your great protectors, once in power,
Are now in exile or the Tower.
Your foes triumphant o'er the laws,
Who hate your person and your cause,
If once they get you on the spot,
You must be guilty of the plot :
For, true or falfe, they'll ne'er inquire,
Bat ufe you ten times worse than Prior.

In London! what would you do there? Can you, my friend, with patience bear (Nay, would it not your paffion raife Worie than a pun, or Irish phrafe?) To fee a (coundrel ftrut and hector, A foot-boy to fome rogue director, To look on vice triumphant round, And virtue trampled on the ground? Obferve where bloody ***** stands With torturing engines in his hands; VOL. IX

Hear him blafpheme, and swear, and rail,
Threatening the pillory and jail:
If this you think a pleasing scene,
To London ftraight return again;
Where, you have told us from experience,
Are fwarms of bugs and prefbyterians.

I thought my very fpleen would burst,
When fortune hither drove me first;
Was full as hard to please as you,
Nor perfons names nor places knew :
But now I act as other folk,
Like prisoners when their jail is broke.
If you have London still at heart,
We'll make a fmall one here by art
The difference is not much between
St. James's Park, and Stephen's Green;
And Dawfon-ftreet will ferve as well
To lead you thither as Pall-Mall.
Nor want a paffage through the palace,
To choke your fight, and raise your malice:
The Deanry-house may well be match'd,
Under correction, with the Thatcht *.
Nor fhall I, when you hither come,
Demand a crown a quart for ftum.
Then, for a middle-aged charmer,
Stella may vie with your Monthermer;
She's now as handsome every bit,
And has a thousand times her wit.
The Dean and Sheridan, I hope,
Will half fupply a Gay and Pope.
Corbett, though yet I know his worth not
No doubt will prove a good Arbuthnot.
I throw into the bargain Tim;
In London can you equal him?
What think you of my favourite clan,
Robin t, and Jack, and Jack and Dan,
Fellows of modeft worth and parts,
With cheerful looks and honeft hearts?
Can you on Dublin look with fcorn?
Yet here were you and Ormond born.

Oh! were but you and I fo wife,
To fee with Robert Grattan's eyes!
Robin adores that spot of earth,
That literal spot which gave him birth;
And fwears," Belcamp is, to his taste,
"As fine as Hampton-court at least."
When to your friends you would enhance
The praise of Italy or France,
For grandeur, elegance, and wit,
We gladly hear you, and fubmit:
But then, to come and keep a clutter,
For this or that fide of the gutter,
To live in this or t' other ifle,
We cannot think it worth your while;
For, take it kindly or amifs,

The difference but amounts to this:
We bury on our fide the channel
In linen; and on yours in flannel §.

*A famous tavern in St. James's fireet. t Dr. Corbet, afterwards dean of St. Pa

trick's.

R. and I. Grattan, and J. and D. Jackson. In Fingall, about five miles from Dublin. The law for burying in woollen was extended to Ireland in 1733.

E

To mournful ditties, Clio, change thy note,
Since cruel fate hath funk our juftice Boat.
Why should he Ank, where nothing feem'd to
prefs,

His lading little, and his ballast less?

Toft in the waves of this tempestuous world,
At length, his anchor fixt 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 poft fo fill'd on nature's laws entrenches:
Benches on boats are plac'd, not boats on benches.
And yet our Boat (how fhall I reconcile it ?)
Was both a Boat, and in one fense a pilot.
With every wind he fail'd, and well could tack;
Had many pendents, but abhorr'd a Jack ‡.
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 fat!
He was as hard and ponderous wood as that:
Yet, when his fand was out, we find at last,
That death has overfet him with a blast.
Our Boat is now fail'd to the Stygian ferry,
There to fupply old Charon's leaky wherry:
Charon in him will ferry fouls to hell;

A trade our Boat § hath practis'd here fo well:
And Cerberus hath ready in his paws
Both pitch and brimstone, to fill up his flaws.
Yet, fpite of death and fate, I here maintain
We may place Boat in his old post again.
The way is thus; and well deferves your thanks:
Take the three strongest of his broken planks,
Fix them on high, confpicuous to be feen,
Form'd like the triple-tree near Stephen's-green [];

*Two villages near the fea.

It was faid he died of a dropfy.
A cant word for a Jacobite.

In condemning malefactors, as a judge.
Where the Dublin gallows ftands.

And, when we view it thus with thief at end on 't, [the pendant! We'll cry, Look, here's our Boat, and there's

THE EPITAPH.

HERE lies judge Boat within a coffin;
Pray, gentle folks, forbear your scoffing.
A Boat a judge! yes; where's the blunder?
A wooden judge is no fuch wonder.
And in his robes, you muft agree,
No Boat was better deckt than he.
'Tis needless to defcribe him fuller;
In short, he was an able fculler.

PETHOX⚫ THE GREAT,

FROM Venus born, thy beauty shows;
But who thy father, no man knows:
Nor can the fkilful herald trace
The founder of thy ancient race;
Whether thy temper, full of fire,
Difcovers Vulcan for thy fire,
The god who made Scamander boil,
And round his margin fing'd the foil
(From whence, philofophers agree,
An equal power defcends to thee);
Whether from dreadful Mars you claim
The high defcent from whence you came,
And, as a proof, fhow numerous fcars
By fierce encounters made in wars,
Thofe honourable wounds you bore
From head to foot, and all before,
And still the bloody field frequent,
Familiar in each leader's tent;
Or whether, as the learn'd contend,
You from the neighbouring Gaul defcend;
Or from Parthenope the proud,
Where numberlefs thy votaries crowd;
Whether thy great forefather came
From realms that bear Vefputio's name
(For fo conjecturers would obtrude,
And from thy painted skin conclude) ;
Whether, as Epicurus fhows,
The world from juftling feeds arofe,
Which, mingling with prolific ftrife
In chaos, kindled into life:
So your production was the fame,
And from contending atoms came.

Thy fair indulgent mother crown'd
Thy head with fparkling rubies round
Beneath thy decent fteps the road
Is all with precious jewels ftrow'd.
The bird of Pallas knows his poft,
Thee to attend, where'er thou goeft.

Byzantians boaft, that on the clod Where once their Sultan's horse had trod, Grows neither grafs, nor fhrub, nor tree; The fame thy fubjects boast of thee.

The greatest lord, when you appear,
Will deign your livery to wear,
In all the various colours feen
Of red and yellow, blue and green.
With half a word, when you require,
The man of business must retire.

* This name is plainly an anagram.

The haughty minifter of ftate With trembling must thy leisure wait; Ard, while his fate is in thy hands, The business of the nation stands.

Thou dar'ft the greatest prince attack, Canft hourly fet him on the rack; And, as an inftance of thy power, Inciofe him in a wooden tower. With pungent pains on every fide: So Regulus in torments dy'd.

From thee our youth all virtues learn, Dangers with prudence to discern; And well thy fcholars are endued With temperance, and with fortitude; With patience, which all ills fupports; And fecrecy, the art of courts.

The glittering beau could hardly tell, Without your aid, to read or fpell; But, having long convers'd with you, Knows how to write a billet-doux.

With what delight, methinks, I trace Your blood in every noble race! In whom thy features, shape, and mien, Are to the life diftinctly seen! The Britons, once a favage kind, By you were brighten'd and refin'd, Descendants to the barbarous Huns, With himbs robuft, and voice that stuns: But you have moulded them afresh, Remov'd the tough fuperfluous flesh, Taught them to modulate their tongues, And ípeak without the help of lungs.

Proteus on you bestow'd the boon To change your vifage like the moon; You fometimes half a face produce, Keep t' other half for private ufe.

How fam'd thy conduct in the fight With Hermes, fon of Pleias bright! Out-number'd, half-encompass'd round, You trove for every inch of ground; Then, by a foldiery retreat, Retrd to your imperial feat. The victor, when your steps he trac'd, Found all the realms before him waste : You, o'er the high triumphal arch Patific, made your glorious march; The wor drous arch behind you fell, And left a chaẩm profound as hell: You, in your capitol fecur'd, A úege as long as Troy endur'd.

Knave in your teeth, Mr. Sheridan! 'tis both a fhame and a fin;

And the Dean, my mafter, is an honefter man than you and all your kin:

He has more goodness in his little finger, than you have in your whole body:

My mafter is a parfonable man, and not a spindlethank'd hoddy-doddy.

And now, whereby I find you would fain make an excufe,

Because my mafter one day, in anger, call'd you goofe ;

Which, and I am fure I have been his fervant four years fince October,

And he never call'd me worse than fweet-heart, drunk or fober:

Not that I know his reverence was ever concern'd to my knowledge,

Though you and your come-rogues keep him out fo late in your college.

You fay you will eat grafs on his grave: a chriftian eat grass!

"

He would come into our kitchen, and I would pin a difh-clout to his tail.

And now I must go, and get Saunders to direct this letter;

For I write but a fad fcrawl; but my fifter MarWell, but I muft run and make the bed, before get, the writes better. my mafter comes from prayers; And fee now, it strikes ten, and I hear him coming up ftairs;

Whereof I could fay more to your verses, if I could. write written hand:

And fo I remain, in a civil way, your fervant to command,

E ij

MARY.

A NEW-YEAR'S-GIFT

FOR BEC *. 1723-4.

RETURNING Janus now prepares,
For Bec, a new fupply of cares,
Sent in a bag to Doctor Swift,
Who thus difplays the New-year's-gift.
First, this large parcel brings you tidings
Of our good Dean's eternal chidings;
Of Nelly's pertnefs, Robin's leafings,
And Sheridan's perpetual teafings.
This box is cramm'd on every fide
With Stella's magifterial pride.
Behold a cage with fparrows fill'd,
Firft to be fondled, then be kill'd
Now to this hamper I invite you,
With fix imagin'd cares to fright you.
Here in this bundle Janus fends
Concerns by thousands for your friends:
And here's a pair of leathern pokes,
To hold your cares for other folks.
Here from this barrel you may broach
A peck of troubles for a coach.

This ball of wax your ears will darken,
Still to be curious, never hearken.
Left you the town may have lefs trouble in,
Bring all your Quilca's † cares to Dublin,
For which he fends this empty fack;
And fo take all upon your back.

To raise up Stella's virtue higher,
Or elfe to introduce the reft
Which had been latent in her breast.
Her firmness who could e'er have known
Had the not evils of her own?
Her kindness who could ever guefs,
Had not her friends been in diftrefs?
Whatever bafe returns you find
From me, dear Stella, ftill be kind.
In your own heart you'll reap the fruit,
Though I continue ftill a brute.
But, when I once am out of pain,
I promise to be good again :
Mean time, your other juster friends
Shall for my follies make amends;
So may we long continue thus,
Admiring you, you pitying us.

ON DREAMS.

AN IMITATION OF PETRONIUS.

"Somnia quæ mentes ludunt volitantibus um "bris," &c.

THOSE dreams that on the filent night intrude,
And with falfe flitting fhades our minds delude,
Jove never fends us downward from the skies;
Nor can they from infernal manfions rife ;
But all are mere productions of the brain,
And fools confult interpreters in vain.

For, when in bed we reft our weary limbs,
The mind unburden'd fports in various whims;
The bufy head with mimic art runs o'er
The scenes and actions of the day before.

The drowfy tyrants, by his minions led, To regal rage devotes fome patriot's head. With equal terrors, not with equal guilt, The murderer dreams of all the blood he spilt

The foldier fmiling hears the widow's cries, And ftabs the fon before the mother's eyes. With like remorfe his brother of the trade, The butcher, felis the lamb beneath his blade.

The statesman rakes the town to find a plot And dreams of forfeitures by treafon got.