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A batter'd shatter'd ash bedstead;

Ҡ But, as he weigh'd his gold, grim Death A box of deal, without a lid;

in spite A pair of tongs, but out of joint;

Cast in his dart, which made three moidores A back-sword poker, without point;

light; A pot that's crack'd across, around

And as he saw his darling money fail, With an old knotted garter bound;

Blew his last breath to sink the lighter scale." An iron lock, without a key;

He who so long was current, 'would be strange A wig, with hanging quite grown grey; If he should now be cried down since his A curtain worn to half a stripe;

change. A pair of bellows, without pipe;

The Sexton shall green sods on the bestow; A dish which might good meat afford once; Alas, the sexton is thy banker now! An Ovid, and an old Concordance;

A dismal banker must that banker be,
A bottle-bottom, wooden platter,

Who gives no bills but of mortality,
One is for meal and one for water;
There likewise is a copper skillet,
Which runs as fast out as you fill it;
A candlestick, snuff-dish, and gave-all :

§ 240. Epitaph on a Miser,
And thus his household goods you have all.
These to your Lordship, as a friend,

Beneath this verdant hillack lies Till you have built, I freely lend :

Demar, the wealthy and the wise. They'll serve your Lordship for a shift;

His heirs, that he might safely rest,
Why not, as well as Doctor Swift?

Have put his carcase in a chest;
The very chest in which, they say,

His other self, his money, lay. $ 239. An Elegy on the Death of Demar the

oth of Dome the And if his heirs continue kind Usurer, who died the 6th of July 1720.

To that dear self he left behind,

I dare believe that four in five

| Will think his better half alive. Know all men by these presents, Death the

tamer By mortgage hath secur'd the corpse of Demar: Nor can four hundred thousand sterling pound $ 241. To Mrs. Houghton of Bormount, upon Redeem him from his prison under ground. praising her Husband to Dr. Swift. His heirs might well, of all his wealth possest, Bestow to bury him one iron chest. Platus, the god of wealth, will joy to know

You always are making a god of your spouse, His faithful steward's in the shades below.

But this neither reason nor conscience allows : He walk'd the streets, and wore a threadbare | Perhaps you will say, 'tis in gratitude due, cloak,

And you adore him because he adores you:
He din'd and supp'd at charge of other folk ; | Your argument's weak, and so you will find;
And by his looks, had he held out his palms, For you, by this rule, must adore all man-
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 saw his betters;

$ 242. Dr. Delany's Villa. Lords, knights, and squires, were all his humble

debtors; And under hand and seal the Irish nation Would you that Delville I describe : Were forc'd to own to him their obligation. Believe me, 'Sir, I will not jibe; He that could once have half a kingdom For who would be satirical bought,

Upon a thing so very small? In half a minute is not worth a groot.

You scarce upon the borders enter, His coffers from the coffin could not save, Before you're at the very centre. Nor all his interest keep him from the grave. A single crow can make it night, A golden monument could not be right, When o'er your farm she takes her fight : Because we wish the earth upon him light. | Yet, in this narrow compass, we

O London tavern ! thou hast lost a friend, Observe a vast variety; Though in thy walls he ne'er did farthing Both walks, walls, meadows, and parterres, spend ;

Windows, and doors, and rooms, and stairs, He touch'd the pence, when others touch'd the And hills, and dales, and woods, and fields, pot;

And hay, and grass, and corn, it yields; The hand that sign'd the mortgage paid the All to your haggard brought so cheap in, shot.

Without the mowing or the reaping : Old as he was, no vulgar known disease A razor, though to say't I'm loth, On him could ever boast a pow'r to seize; Would shave you and your meadows both.

• A tavern in Dublin where Demar kept his office.

+ These four lines were written by Stella.

Though small's the farm, yet there's a house | You say you will eat grass on his grave: à Full large to entertain a mouse ;

Christian eat grass! But where a rat is dreaded more

Whereby you now confess yourself to be a Than savage Calydonian boar;

goose or an ass: For, if it's enter'd by a rat,

But that's as much as to say, that my master There is no room to bring a cat.

should die before ye; A little riv'let seems to steal

Well, well, that's as God pleases; and I don't Down through a thing you call a vale,

believe that's a true story: Like tears adown a wrinkled cheek,

And so say I told you so, and you may go tell Like rain along a blade of leek ;

my master, what care I? (Mary. And this you call your sweet Meander, And I don't care who knows it; 'tis all one to Which might be suck'd up by a gander, Every body knows that I love to tell truth, and Could he but force his nether bill

shame the devil; [should be civil. To scoop the channel of the rill:

I am but a poor servant, but I think gentle folks For sure you'd make a mighty clutter, Besides, you found fault with our victuals one Were it as big as city-gutter.

day that you was here ; [the year; Next come I to your kitchen-garden, I remember it was on a Tuesday, of all days in Where one poor mouse would fare but hard in ; | And Saunders the man says you are always And round this garden is a walk,

jesting and mocking: No longer than a tailor's chalk.

Mary," said he one day as I was mending my Thus I compare what space is in it;

master's stocking, A snail creeps round it in a minute.

“ My master is so fond of that minister that One lettuce makes a shift to squeeze

keeps the school - [makes him a fool." Up through a tuft you call your trees :

I thought my master a wise man, but that man And, once a year, a single rose

“ Saunders," said I, “I would rather than a Peeps from the bud, but never blows;

quart of ale In vain then you expect its bloom!

He would come into our kitchen, and I would It cannot blow, from want of room.

pin a dishclout to his tail." In short, in all your boasted seat,

And now I must go and get Saunders to direct There's nothing but yourself that's great.

this letter; For I write but a sad scrawl, but my sister

Marget she writes better. $ 243. Mary the Cook-maid's Letter to Dr.

Well, but I must run and make the bed, before Sheridan.

my master comes from pray'rs : 1723.

And see now, it strikes ten, and I hear him WELL, if ever I saw such another man since coming up stairs : my mother bound my head !

Whereof I could say more to your verses, if I You a gentleman! marry come up! I wonder could write written hand : where you were bred.

And so I remain, in a civil way, your servant I'm sure such words do not become a man of to command,

Mary. your cloth: I would not give such language to a dog, faith 5 244. Riddles, by Dr. Swift and his Friends. and troth.

Written in or about the Year 1724.
Yes, you callid my master a knave: fie, Mr.
Sheridan, 'iis a shame

On a Pen.
For a parson, who should know better things, ! In youth exalted high in air,

to come out with such a name. Or bathing in the waters fair, Knave in your teeth, Mr. Sheridan! 'tis both Nature to form me took delight, a shame and a sin;

And clad my body all in white, And the Dean, my master, is an honester man My person tall, and slender waist, than you and all your kin ;

| On either side with frioges grac'd; He has more goodness in his little finger than Till me that tyrant man espied, you have in your whole body;

And dragg'd me from my mother's side. My master is a personable man, and not a spin- / No wonder now I look so thin; dle-shank'd hoddy-doddy.

The tyrant stripp'd me to the skin; And now, whereby I find you would fain make | My skin he flay'd, my hair he cropp'd; an excuse,

At head and foot my body lopp'd : Because my master one day, in anger, calld And then, with heart more hard than stone, you goose ;

He pick'd my marrow from the bone. Which, and I am sure I have been his servant To vex me more, he took a freak four years since October,

To slit my tongue, and make me speak: And he never call'd me worse than sweetheart, | But that which wonderful appears; drunk or sober:

I speak to eyes, and not to ears. Not that I know his reverence was ever con- | He oft employs me in disguise, cern'd, to my knowledge,

| And makes me tell a thousand lies: Though you and your come-rogues keep him To me he chiefly gives in trust out so late in your college.

| To please his malice or his lust;

From me no secret he can hide,

| Yet the plain squire, when dinner's done, I see his vanity and pride :

Is never pleas'd till I make one : And my delight is to expose

He kindly bids me near him stand, His follies to his greatest foes.

And often takes me by the hand. All languages I can command,

I twice a day a hunting go, Yet not a word I understand.

Nor ever fail to seize my foe; Without my aid, the best divine

And, when I have him by the pole, In learning would not know a line ;

I drag him upwards from his hole;
The lawyer must forget his pleading;

Though some are of so stubborn kind,
The scholar could not show his reading. I'm forc'd to leave a limb behind.
Nay, man, my master, is my slave:

I hourly wait some fatal end;
I give command to kill or sare;

For I can break, but scorn to bend.
Can grant ten thousand pounds a year,
And make a beggar's brat a peer.
But while I thus my life relate,

$ 247. On a Circle. I only hasten on my fate.

I'm up and down, and round about,
My tongue is black, my mouth is furr'd,

Yet all the world can't find me out.
I hardly now can force a word.
I die unpitied and forgot,

Though hundreds have employ'd their leisure,

They never yet could find my measure. And on some dunghill left to rot.

I'm found almost in ev'ry garden,

Nay, in the compass of a farthing. $ 245. On Gold.

There's neither chariot, coach, nor mill,

Can more an inch, except I will.
ALL-RULING tyrant of the earth,
To vilest slaves I owe my birth.
How is the greatest monarch blest,

$ 248. On Ink.
When in my gaudy liv'ry drest!
No baughty nymph has pow'r to run

I Am jet-black, as you may sce, From me, or my embraces shun.

The son of Pitch and gloomy Night: Stabb'd to the heart, condemn'd to flame,

Yet all that know me will agree My constancy is still the same.

I'm dead, except I live in light. The favourite messenger of Jove,

Sometimes in panegyric high, The Lemnian God, consulting strove

Like lofty Pindar I can soar; To make me glorious to the sight

And raise a virgin to the sky, Of mortals, and the gods' delight.

Or sink her to a pocky whore. Soon would their altars' flame expire

My blood this day is very sweet, If I refus'd to lend them fire.

To-morrow of a bitter juice;

Like milk, 'tis cried about the street, $ 246. On a Corkscrew.

And so applied to different use.

Most wondrous is my magic pow'r, Though I, alas ! a prisoner be,

For with one color I can paint; My trade is, prisoners to set free.

I'll make the devil a saint this hour, No slave his lord's commands obeys

Next inake a devil of a saint. With such insinuating ways;

Through distant regions I can fly, My genius piercing, sharp, and bright,

Provide me with but paper wings;
Wherein the men of wit delight.

And fairly show a reason why
The clergy keep me for their ease,
And turn and wind me as they please.

There should be quarrels among kings. A new and wondrous art I show

| And, after all, you 'll think it odd, Of raising spirits froin below;

When learned doctors will dispute, In scarlet some, and some in white:

That I should point the word of God, They rise, walk round, yet never fright.

And show where they can best confute. In at each mouth the spirits pass,

Let lawyers bawl and strain their throats; Distinctly seen as through a glass;

'Tis l' that must their lands convey, O'er head and body make a rout,

And strip the clients to their coats;
And drive at last all secrets out:

Nay, give their very souls away.
And still the more I show my art,
The more they open ev'ry heart.
A greater chemist none than I,

$ 249. On the Five Senses.
Who from materials hard and dry
Have taught men to extract with skill

All of us in one you 'll find, More precious juice than from a still.

Brethren of a wondrous kind; Although I'm often out of case,

Yeramong us all no brother I'm not asham'd to show my face.

Knows one tittle of the other. Though at the tables of the great

We in frequent councils are, I near the sideboard take my seat;

| And our marks of things declare,

Where to us unknown a clerk

All shapes and features I can boast, Sits and takes them in the dark.

No flesh, no bones, no blood-no ghost: He's the register of all

| All colours, without paint, put on, In our ken, both great and small;

And change like the cameleon. By us forms his laws and rules;

Swiftly I come and enter there He's our master, we his tools,

Where not a chink lets in the air; Yet we can, with greatest case,

Like thought, I'm in a moment gone, Turn and wind him where we please.

Nor can I ever be alone; One of us alone can sleep,

All things on earth I imitate Yet no watch the rest will keep;

Faster than nature can create; But the moment that he closes,

Sometimes imperial robes I wear, Ev'ry brother else reposes.

Anon in beggar's rags appear; If wine's bought, or victuals drest,

A giant now, and straight an elf, One enjoys them for the rest.

l'ın ev'ry one, but ne'er myself; Pierce us all with wounding steel,

Ne'er sad, I mourn; ne'er glad, rejoice; One for all of us will feel.

I move my lips, but want a voice; Though ten thousand cannons roar,

I ne'er was born, nor e'er can die :
Add to them ten thousand more,

Then pr’ythee tell me, what am I?
Yet but one of us is found
Who regards the dreadful sound.

Do what is not fit to tell,
There's but one of us can smell.

$ 252. On Time.

Ever eating, never cloying, $ 250. On an Echo.

All devouring, all destroying;
Never sleeping, still awake,

Never finding full repast,
Pleasing most when most I speak : , | Till I eat the world at last.
The delight of old and young,
Though I speak without a tongue:
Nought but one thing can confound me,

§ 253. On the Vowels.
Many voices joining round me;
Then I fret and rave and gabble

We are little airy creatures, Like the labourers of Babel.

All of diff'rent voice and features : Now I am a dog or cow,

| One of us in glass is set, I can bark, or I can low;

| One of us you'll find in jet; I can bleat, or I can sing

T other you may see in tin, Like the warblers of the spring.

And the fourth a box within ; Let the love-sick bard complain,

If the fifth you should pursue,
And I mourn the cruel pain;

It can never fly from you. .
Let the happy swain rejoice,
And I join my helping voice;
Both are welcome, grief or joy,

6 254. On Snow.
I.with either sport and toy.
Though a lady, I am stout,
Drums and trumpets bring me out;

From heaven I fall, tho' from earth I begin, Then I clash, and roar and rattle,

No lady alive can shew such a skin. Join in all the din of battle.

I'm bright as an angel, and light as a feather, Jove, with all his loudest thunder,

But heavy and dark when you squeeze me to

gether. When I'm vex'd, can't keep me under ; Yet so tender is my ear,

Though candor and truth in my aspect I bear, That the lowest voice I fear.

Yet many poor creatures I help to ensnare. Much I dread the courtier's fate,

Though so much of heaven appears in my

make, When his merit's out of date;

The foulest impressions I easily take.
For I hate a silent breath,
And a whisper is my death.

My parent and I produce one another;
The mother the daughter, the daughter the

$ 251. On a Shadow in a Glass.
By something form’d, I nothing am,
Yet every thing that you can name;

$ 255. On a Cannon. In no place have I ever been, Yet ev'ry where I may be seen;

BEGOTTEN, and born, and dying, with noise, In all things false, yei always true,

The terror of women, and pleasure of boys; I'm still the same, but ever new.

Like the fiction of poets concerning the wind, Lifeless, life's perfect form I wear,

I'm chiefly upruly when strongest confia'd. Can show a nose, eye, tongue, or ear,

For silver and gold I don't trouble my head, Yet neither smell, see, taste, or hear.

But all I delight in is pieces of lead;


Except when I trade with a ship or a town, With parsons what lady can keep herself elean?
Why then I make pieces of iron go down. I'm all over daub'd when I sit by the Dean.
One property more I would have you remark, But if you will give us a barrack, my dear,
No lady was ever more fond of a spark; The Captain, I'm sure, will always come here;
The moment I get one, my soul's all afire, I then shall not value his Deanship a straw,
And I roar out my joy, and in transport expire. For the Captain, I warrant, will keep bim in

awe; $ 256. To Quilca. a Country House of Dr. | Or, should be pretend to be brisk and alert, Sheridan, in no very good Repair. 1725.

| Will tell him that chaplains should not be so Let me thy properties explain :

pert; A rotten cabin, dropping rain;

That men of his coat should be minding their Chimpeys with scorn rejecting smoke;


And not ainong ladies to give themselves airs." Stools, tables, chairs, and bedsteads, broke.

Thus argued my Lady, but argued in vain ; Here elements have lost their uses :

The Knight his opinion resolu'd to maintain. Air ripens not, nor earth produces;

But Hannah [who listen'd to all that was In vain we make poor Shelah * toil, Fire will not roast, nor water boil.


And could not endure so vulgar a taste,
Through all the valleys, hills, and plains,
The goddess Want in triumph reigns :

As soon as her Ladyship call'd to be dress'd, And her chief officers of state,

Cried, “Madam, why surely my master's pos. Sloth, Dirt, and Theft, around her wait.

Sir Arthur the maltster! how fine it will sound !

I'd rather the bawn were supk under ground. $ 257. The grand Question devated, whether | But, Madam, I guess'd there would never come Hamilton's Bawn should be turned into a

good, Barrack or a Mall-House. 1729.

When I saw him so often with Darby and Thus spoke to my Lady the Knight t full of Wood **. care:

| And now my dream's out ; for I was a-dream'd “Let me have your advice in a weighty affair : ( That I saw a huge rat-o dear, how I scream'd! This Hamilton's Bawn I whilst it sticks on my | And after, methought, I had lost my new shoes ; hand,

And Molly she said I should hear some ill news. I lose by the house what I get by the land; Dear madam, had you but the spirit to tease, But how to dispose of it to the best bidder, You might have a barrack whenever you please : For a barrack $ or malt-house, we now must And, madam, I always believ'd you so stout, consider.

That for twenty denials you would not give out. "First let me suppose I make ita malt-house, If I had a husband like him, I purtest, Here I have computed the profit will fall thus; Till he gave me my will, I would give him no There's nine hundred pounds for labor and

rest; grain,

[main; And, rather than come in the same pair of sheets I increase it to twelve, so three hundred re- With such a cross man, I would lie in the A handsome addition for wine and good cheer,

streets: Three dishes a day, and three hogsheads a year: But, madam, I beg you, contrive and invent, With a dozen large vessels my vault shall be And worry him out till he gives his consent. stored;

Dear madam, whene'er of a barrack I think, No little scrub joint shall come on my board, An I were to be hang'd, I can't sleep a wink : And you and the Dean no more shall combine For if a new crotchet comes into my brain, To stint ine at night to one bottle of wine; I can't get it out, though I never so fain. Vor shall I, for his humor, permit you to pur- I fancy already a barrack contriv'd.

At Hamilton's Bawn, and the troop is arrir'd; A stone and a quarter of beef from my sirloin. Of this to be sure Sir Arthur has warning, If I make it a barrack, the crown is my tenant; | And waits on the Captain betimes the next My dear, I have ponder'd again and again on't: morning.

(behave: la poundage and drawbacks I lose half my rent; Now see, when they meet, how their honors Whatever they give me, I must be content, Noble Captain, your servant.'—Sir Arthur, Or join with the court in every debate,

your slave : And rather than that I would lose my estate." You honor me much.' - The honor is mine.' Thus ended the Knight. Thus began his "Twas a sad rainy night.'—' But the morning meek wife:

is fine.' " It must and it shall be a barrack, my life. Pray how does my Lady?'—My wife's at your I'ın grown a mere mopus; no company comes service.' But a rabble of tenants and rusty dull rums || : I think I have seen her picture by Jervas.'

The name of an Irish servant. + Sir Arthur Acheson, at whose seat this was written. + A large old house, two miles from Sir Arthur's seat.

The army in Ireland is lodged in strong buildings over the whole kingdom, called barracks. | A cant word in Ireland for a poor country-clergyman. I My lady's waiting-woman. "• Two of Sir Arthur's managers,

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