·

By honour feated in her breast
She still determines what is best:
What indignation in her mind
Against enflavers of mankind!
Bafe kings, and minifters of state,
Eternal objects of her hate!

She thinks that Bature ne'er defign'd
Courage to man alone confin'd.
Can cowardice her fex adorn,
Which most exposes ours to fcorn?
She wonders where the charm appears
In Florimel's affected fears;

For Stella never learn'd the art

At proper times to scream and start;
Nor calls up all the houfe at night,
And fwears the faw a thing in white.
Doll never flies to cut her lace,
Or throw cold water in her face,
Because fhe heard a fudden drum,
Or found an earwig in a plum.

Her hearers are amaz'd from whence
Proceeds that fund of wit and fenfe;
Which, though her modesty would shroud,
Breaks like the fun behind a cloud;
While gracefulness its art conceals,
And yet through every motion steals.

Say, Stella, was Prometheus blind,
And, forming you, mistook your kind?
No; 'twas for you alone he stole
The fire that forms a manly foul;
Then, to complete it every way,
He moulded it with female clay:
To that you owe the nobler flame,
To this the beauty of your frame.

How would ingratitude delight,
And how would cenfure glut her spight,
If I should Stella's kindnefs hide
In filence, or forget with pride!
When on my fickly couch I lay,
Impatient both of night and day,
Lameuting in unmanly ftrains,
Call'd every power to cafe my pains;
Then Stella ran to my relief
With cheerful face and inward grief:
And, though by Heaven's fevere decree
She fuffers hourly more than me,
No cruel mafter could require,
From flaves employed for daily hire,
What Stella, by her friendship warm'd,
With vigour and delight perform'd:
My finking fpirits now fupplies
With cordials in her hands and eyes;
Now with a foft and filent tread
Unheard the moves about my bed.
I fee her tafte each naufeous draught;
And fo obligingly am caught,

I blefs the hand from whence they came,
Nor dare diftort my face for fhame.

Beft pattern of true friends! beware: You pay too dearly for your care, If, while your tendernefs fecures My life, it must endanger your's; For fuch a fool was never found, Who pull'd a palace to the ground, Only to have the ruins made Materials for a houfe decay'd.

AN ELEGY
ON THE DEATH OF DEMAR, THE USURER.
Who died the 6th of July 1720.

KNOW all men by thefe prefents, Death the tamer,
By mortgage, hath fecur'd the corpse of Demar:
Nor can four hundred thousand flerling pound
Redeem him from his prifon under ground.
His heirs might well, of all his wealth poffefs'd,
Beftow to bury him one iron cheft.
Plutus the god of wealth will joy to know
His faithful fteward in the fhades below,

He walk'd the streets, and wore a threadbare cloak;
He din'd and fupp'd at charge of other folk:
And by his looks, had he held out his palms,
He might be thought an object fit for alms.
So, to the poor, if he refus'd his pelf,
He us'd them full as kindly as himself.

Where'er he went, he never faw his betters; Lords, nights, and fquires, were all his humble And under hand and feal the Irish nation [debtors; Were forc'd to own to him their obligation.

He that could once have half a kingdom bought, In half a minute is not worth a groat. His coffers from the coffin could not save, Nor all his intereft keep him from the grave. A golden monument would not be right, Because we wish the earth upon him light.

Oh London tavern! thou haft loft a friend, Though in thy walls he ne'er did farthing spend: He touch'd the pence, when others touch'd the pot; The hand that fign'd the mortgage paid the fhot. Old as he was, no vulgar known disease On him could ever boast a power to seize;

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+ But, as he weigh'd his gold, grim Death in fpight

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"Caft in his dart, which made three moidores light; "And, as he faw his darling money fail, "Blew his laft breath, to fink the lighter fcale."He who fo long was current, 'twould be ftrange If he should now be cry'd down fince his change. The fexton fhall green fods on thee bestow; Alas, the fexton is thy banker now! A difmal banker must that banker be, Who gives no bills but of mortality.

EPITAPH ON A MISER.

BENEATH this verdant hillock lies
Demar, the wealthy and the wife.
His heirs, that he might fafely reft,
Have put his carcafe in a cheft;
The very chef in which, they fay,
His other felf, his money, lay.
And, if his beirs continue kind
To that dear felf he left behind,
I dare believe, that four in five
Will think his better half alive.

TO MRS. HOUGHTON OF BORMOUNT,

Upon praising her Hufband to Dr. Swift,

You always are making a god of your spouse; But this neither reafon nor confcience allows :

* A tavern in Dublin, where Demar kept his office, †Thefe four lines were zeritten by Stella.

APOLLO TO THE DEAN, 1720.

RIGHT trufty, and fo forth-we let you to know,
We are very ill us'd by you mortals below.
For first, I have often by chemifts been told,
Though I know nothing on 't, it is I that make
gold,
[it,
Which when you have got, you fo carefully hide
That, fince I was born, I hardly have spy'd it.
Then it must be allow'd, that, whenever I shine,
I forward the grafs, and I ripen the vine;
To me the good fellows apply for relief, [beef:
Without whom they could neither get claret nor
Yet their wine and their victuals thefe curmud-
geon lubbards

Lock up from my fight in cellars and cupboards.
That I have an ill eye, they wickedly think,
And taint all their meat, and four all their drink.
But, thirdly and laftly, it must be allow'd.
I alone can infpire the poetical crowd:
This is gratefully own'd by each boy in the college,
Whom if I infpire, it is not to my knowledge.

.

Dean Sterne was diffinguifbed for his hofpitality.

This every pretender to rhyme will admit, Without troubling his head about judgment or wit. Thefe gentlemen ufe me with kindness and freedom; ['em : And as for their works, when I please I may read They lie open on purpofe on counters and stails; And the titles I view, when I fhine on the walls. But a comrade of yours, that traitor Delany, Whom I for your fake love better than any, And, of my mere motion and Special good grace, Intended in time to fucceed in your place, On Tuesday the tenth feditiously came With a certain falfe traitrefs, one Stella by name, To the deanry houfe, and on the north glafs, Where, for fear of the cold, I never can pass, Then and there, vi et armis, with a certain utenfil, Of value five fhillings, in English a pencil, Did malicioufly, falfely, and traiteroufly write, Whilft Stella aforefaid ftood by with a light. My fifter had lately depos'd upon oath, That the ftopt in her courfe to look at them both: That Stella was helping, abetting, and aiding: And still as he writ, flood fmiling and reading: That her eyes were as bright as myself at noonday, [with gray; But her graceful black locks were all mingled And by the defcription I certainly know, "Tis the nymph that I courted fome ten years ago; Whom when I with the best of my talents endued On her promife of yielding, fhe acted the prude: That fome verses were writ with felonious intent, Direct to the north, where I never yet went : That the letters appeared revers'd through the pane, Jagain; But in Stella's bright eyes they were plac'd right Wherein the diftinctly could read every line, And prefently guefs that the fancy was mine. She can fwear to the perfon whom oft fhe has feen At night between Cavan Street and College Green. Now you fee why his verfes fo feldom are shown; The reafon is plain, they are none of his own: And obferve while you live, that no man is fhy To difcover the goods he came honestly by. If I light on a thought, he will certainly steal it, And, when he has got it, find ways to conceal it: Of all the fine things he keeps in the dark, There's fcarce one in ten but what has my mark; And let them be seen by the world if he dare, I'll make it appear that they're all ftolen ware. But as for the poem he writ on your fash, I think I have now got him under my lash; My fifter tranfcrib'd it laft night to his forrow, And the public fhall fee't, if I live till to-morrow. Through the zodiac around, it fhall quickly be fpread

In all parts of the globe where your language is read..
He knows very well, I ne'er gave a refusal,
When he afk'd for my aid in the forms that are
But the fecret is this, I did lately intend [ufual:
To write a few verfes on you, as my friend:
I ftudied a fortnight, before I could find,
As I rode in my chariot, a thought to my mind,
When the days are at fhorteft) to get it in rhyme;
And refolv'd the next winter (for that is my time,
Till then it was lock'd in my box at Parnaffus;
When that fubtle compaion, in hopes to furpafs us,
Conveys out my paper of hints by a trick, Nick)

Money, the life-blood of the nation, Corrupts and ftagnates in the veins, Unless a proper circulation

Its motion and its heat maintains.

Beraufe 'tis lordly not to pay,

Quakers and aldermen in state
Like prers have levees every day
Of duns attending at their gate.
We want our money on the nail;
The banker's ruin'd if he pays:
They feem to act an ancient tale;

The birds are met to ftrip the jays. Riches, the wifeft monarch fings, "Make pinions for themselves to fly:" They fly like bats on parchment wings, And geele their filver plumes fupply. money left for fquandering heirs! Bills turn the lenders into debtors:

No

The wifh of Nero now is theirs, "That they had never known their letters."

Conceive the works of midnight hags, Tormenting fools behind their backs: Thus bankers o'er their bills and bags Sits fqueezing images of wax.

Conceive the whole enchantment broke;
The witches left in open air,

With power no more than other folk,
Expos'd with all their magic ware.

So powerful are a banker's bills,

Where creditors demand their due; They break up counters, doors, and tills, And leave the empty chefts in view.

Thus when an earthquake lets in light
Upon the god of gold and bell,
Unable to endure the fight,

He hides within his darkeft cell.

As when a conjuror takes a leafe

From Satan for a term of years, The tenant's in a difmal cafe, Whene'er the bloody bond oppears.

▲ bated banker thus defponds,

From his own hand forcfees his fall; They have his foul, who have his bonds; "Tis like the writing on the wall.

How will the catiff wretch be fear'd,
When first he finds himself awake
At the laft trumpet unprepar'd,

And all his grand account to make!
For in that univerfal call

Few bankers will to heaven be mounters;
They'll cry, "Ye fhops, upon us fall!

Conceal and cover us, ye counters!"
When other hands the fealer fhall hold,
And they in men and engels' fight
Produc'd with all their bills and gold,

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Weigh'd in the balance, and found light!"

DESCRIPTION OF AN IRISH FEAST, Tranflated almoft literally out of the original Irish,

His revels to keep, we fup and we dine
On feven fcore fheep, fat bullocks, and fwine.
Unfquebaugh to our feaft in pails was brought up,
An hundred at leaft, and a madder *

our cup.

O there is the fport! we rife with the light
In diforderly fort from fnoring all night.
O how was I trick'd! my pipe it was broke,
My pocket was pick'd, I loft my new cloak.
I'm rifled, quoth Nell, of mantle and kercher † :
Why then fare them well, the de'el take the
searcher.

Come, harper, ftrike up; but, firft, by your favour,
Boy, give us a cup: ah! this has fome favour.
Orourk's jolly boys ne'er dreamt of the matter,
Till, rous'd by the noife and musical clatter,
They bounce from their neft, no longer will tarry,
They rife ready dreft, without one ave-mary. [ing;
They dance in a ronnd, cutting capers, and ramp-
A mercy the ground did not burst with their
ftamping.

The floor is all wet with leaps and with jumps, While the water and sweat splish-splash in their pumps.

Bless you late and carly, Laughlin O' Enagin!
By my band, you dance rarely, Margery Grinagin.
Bring ftraw for our bed, fhake it down to the feet,
Then over us fpread the winnowing sheet :
To fhow I don't flinch, fill the bowl up again;
Then give us a pinch of your fneezing, a yean §.
Good Lord! what a fight, after all their good
cheer,

For people to fight in the midst of their beer!
They rife from their feaft, and hot are their brains,
A cubit at least the length of their skeans]}.
What stabs and what cuts, what clattering of flicks;
What strokes on the guts, what baftings and kicks!
With cudgels of oak well harden'd in flame,
An hundred heads broke, an hundred ftruck lame.
You churl, I'll maintain my father built Lufk,
The Cattle of Slain, and Carrick Drumruk:
The Earl of Kildare, and Moynalta his brother,
As great as they are, I was nurit by their mother.
Afk that of old madam; fhe'll tell you who's who
As far up as Adam, fhe knows it is true.
Come down with that beam, if cudgels are fcarce.
A blow on the weam, or a kick on the a--fe.

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG, ON A SEDITIOUS PAMPHLET ¶, 1720.

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To the ture of Packington's Pourd.”

BROCADOS and damasks, and tabbies, and gauzes,
Are by Robert Ballentine lately brought over,
With forty things more; now hear what the law
fays,
[lover.
Whoe'er will not wear them is not the king's
Though a printer and dean
Seditiously mean

Our true Irish hearts from old England to wean;

A wooden veffel. An Irifs oath. Daggers, or foert fwords. Propofuls for the univerful use of Iris manufce tures, for which Watersth. printer was jeverely pra

1720.

OROURK's noble fare will ne'er be forgot,

+ Handkerchief.

§ Irish for a woman.

We'll buy Englifa filks for our wives and our daughters,

In fpite of his deanfhip and journeyman Waters. In England the dead in woollen are clad,

The dean and his printer then let us cry fy on; To be cloth'd like a carcafe, would make a Teague Since a living dog better is than a dead lion. [mad, Our wives they grow fullen At wearing of woollen,

And all we paor fhop-keepers muft our horns pull in. [daughters, Then we'll buy English filks for our wives and our In spite of his deanfhip and journeyman Waters. Whoever our trading with England would hinder, To inflame both the nations do plainly confpire; Because Irish linen will foon turn to tinder, And wool it is greafy, and quickly takes fire. Therefore I affure you, Our noble grand jury, When they faw the dean's book, they were in a great fury. They would buy English filks for their wives and their daughters, In spite of his deanfhip and journeyman Waters. This wicked rogue Waters, who always is finning, And before corum nobus so oft has been call'd, Henceforward fhall print neither pamphlets nor linen, [mawl'd: And, if fwearing can do't, shall be swingingly And as for the dean,

You know whom I mean,

If the printer will 'peach him, he'll scarce come off clean. [daughters, Then we'll buy English filks for our wives and our In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

But by degrees, when mounted high,
Her artificial face appears
Down from her window in the sky,

Her spots are gone, her vifage clears. "Twixt earthly females and the moon

All parallels exactly run:
If Celia fhould appear too foon,

Alas, the nymph would be undone !
To fee her from her pillow rife,

All reeking in a cloudy fteam, Crack'd lips, foul teeth, and gummy eyes, Poor Strephon! how would he blafpheme! Three colours, black, and red, and white,

So graceful in their proper place, Remove them to a different fcite,

They form a frightful hideous face: For instance, when the lily fkips

Into the precincts of the role, And takes poffeffion of the lips, Leaving the purple to the nofe:

So Celia went entire to bed,

All her complexion fafe and found; But, when the rofe, white, black, and red, Though still in fight, had chang'd their ground.

The black, which would not be confin'd,
A more inferior station feeks;
Leaving the fiery red behind,

And mingles in her muddy cheeks.
But Celia can with ease reduce,

By help of pencil, paint and brush, Each colour to its place and use,

And teach her cheeks again to blush.
She knows her early felf no more,

As other painters oft' adore
But fill'd with admiration ftands;

The workmanship of their own hands. Thus, after four important hours,

Celia's the wonder of her fex: Say, which among the heavenly powers Could caufe fuch marvellous effects?

Venus, indulgent to her kind,

#

Gave women all their hearts could wish, When first she taught them where to find White lead and Lufitanian dish. Love with white-lead cements his wings: White-lead was fent us to repair Two brightest, brittleft, earthly things, A lady's face, and China-ware.

She ventures now to lift the fash:
The window is her proper sphere:
Ah, lovely nymph! be not too rash,
Nor let the beaux approach too near.

Take pattern by your fifler ftar:

Delude at once and blefs our fight; When you are feen, be feen from far,

And chiefly choose to fhine by night. But art no longer can prevail,

When the materials all are gone; The beft mechanic hand muft fail, Where nothing's left to work upon Matter, as wife logicians fay,

Cannot without a form fubfift; And form, fay I, as well as they,

Muft fail, if matter brings no grift. And this is fair Diana's cafe;

For all aftrologers maintain, Each night a bit drops off her face, When mortals fay fhe's in her ware: While Partridge wifely fhows the cause Efficient of the moon's decay, That Cancer with his poifonous claws Attacks her in the milky way: