"Far to the land of f and fans;d• skr"} "A fervile race in folly nurs'd, yy muilla vân ta Who truckle moll when treated wo:ft.

“By innocence and refolution, O He bore continual perfecution; While numbers to preferment rose, "Whofe merit was to be his foes; "When even his own familiar friends, Intent upon their private ends, "Like renegadoes now he feels "Againft-him lifting up their heels.

"The Dean did, by his pen, defeat "An infamous deftructive cheat;

"Taught fools their intereft how to know,
"And gave them arms to ward the blow.
"Envy hath own'd it was his doing,
"To fave that hapless land from ruin ;
"While they who at the fleerage flood,
"And reap'd the profit, fought his blood.
"To fave them from their evil fate,
"In him was held a crime of state.
A wicked monster on the bench,
"Whofe fury blood could never quench;
As vile and profligate a villain,

As modern Scroggs, or old Treffilian; "Who long all justice had discarded, Nor fear'd he God, nor man regarded;

"Vow'd

"Vow'd on the Dean his rage to vent,qof “And make him of his zeal repent.

T

"But Heaven his, innocence defends, "A*"The grateful people and his friends: 10"Not ftrains of law, nor judges frown, A "Nor topics brought to pleafe the crown, "Nor witnefs hir'd, nor jury pick'd, : "Prevail to bring him in convict

1

"In exile, with a fleady heart, le "He spent his life's declining part; "Where folly, pride, and faction fway, "Remote from St. John, Pope, and Gay."

"Alas, poor Dean! his only scope of "Was to be held a mifanthrope

"This into general odium drew him ản

"Which if he lik'd, much good may't do him. "His zeal was not to lash our crimes,

"But difcontent against the times:
"For, had we made him timely offers
"To raise his poft, or fill his coffers,

i.

Perhaps he might have truckled down, r "Like other brethren of his.gown;

"For party he would fcarce have bled
"I fay no more-because he's dead.
"What writings has he left behind ?"
"I hear they're of a different kind :
"A few in verfe, but moft in profe.

Some high-flown pamphlets, I fuppofe

All fcribbled in the worft of times,

To palliate his friend Oxford's crimes';

To praife Queen Anne; nay more, defend her, "As never favouring the Pretender:

66

Or libels yet conceal'd from fight,

Against the court to fhew his fpite:

Perhaps his travels, part the third "A lye at every fecond word"Offensive to a loyal ear:

But not one fermon, you may fwear.' "He knew an hundred pleafing ftories, With all the turns of Whigs and Tories "Was cheerful to his dying day;

And friends would let him have hist

way.

"As for his works in verfe or profe, "I own my felf no judge of those.

Nor can I tell what critics thought them;

"But this I know, all people bought them,
"As with a moral view defign'd
"To please and to reform mankind:
"And, if he often mifs'd his aim,

"The world muft own it, to their fhame,
"The praife is his, and theirs the blame.
"He gave the little wealth he had

"To build a houfe for fools and mad;
"To fhew, by one fatiric touch,
"No nation wanted it fo much.

"That kingdom he has left his debtor,
"I with it foon may have a better.

And, fince you dread no farther lashes,

Methinks you may forgive his afhes." Similies.

Pert as a pear-monger I'd be,
If Molly were but kind;
Cool as a cucumber could fee
The rell of womankind.

Like a fluck pig I gaping flare,
And cye her o'er and o'er ;
Lean as a rake with fighs and care,
Sleek as a moufe before.

Plump as a partridge was I known,
And foft as filk my fkin;
My checks as fat as butter grown ;
But as a groat now thin!

I melancholy as a cat,

Am kept awake to weep; But fhe, infenfible of that, Sound a top can fleep.

Hard

Ah me! as thick as hops or hail

The fine men crowd about her
But foon as dead as a door-nail
Shall I be, if without her.

Straight as my leg her fhape appears;
O! were we join'd together,

My heart would be Scot-free from cares,
And lighter than a feather.

As fine as five-pence is her mien,
No drum was ever tighter ;

Her glance is as a razor keen,
And not the fun is brighter.

As foft as pap her kisses are,
Methinks I tafte them yet;
Brown as a berry is her hair,
eyes as black as jet. ́

Her

Vol. V. 26.

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