Pa

Judas.

An Epifle to Mr. Gay.

On the Irish Bishops.

On the Death of Dr. Swift.

Epifle to two Friends.

Dr. Helfham's Anfwer.

Epigram on the Bufts in Richmond Hermitage. To the Rev. Dr. Swift, by the Earl of Orrery. To the fame, by Dr. Delany.

The Anfwer by the Dean.

The Beafts Confeffion.

The Parfon's Cafe.

The Hardship upon the Ladies.

A Love-fong in the modern Tafte.

On the Words Brother Proteftants, &c.
The Yahoo's Overthrow.

On the Archbishop of Cafhel and Bettesworth.
On Poetry, a Rhapsody.

I

I

I

A new Simile for the Ladies, by Dr. Sheridan. 18 Anfwer by Dr. Swift.

A Vindication of the Libel, &c.

A friendly Apology for Hartley Hutchinson.
Ballad on Ballyfpellin, by Dr. Sheridan.
Anfwer by Dr. Swift.

Horace, part of B. i. Sat. 4. paraphrafed.
On a Printer's being fent to Newgate.
The Day of Judgment.

Verfes fent to the Dean by Dr. Sican.
On Pfyche.

The Dean and Duke.

I

19

19

20

20

200

$20

208

200

211

212

The Dean's Manner of Living.

228

Verfes made for Fruit-women, &c.

229

On Rover, a Lady's Spaniel.

231

Epigram.

233

Polite Converfation.

237

A LIBEL

A

L I BE L

ON THE REVEREND

DR. DELANY,

AND HIS EXCELLENCY

JOHN LORD CARTERET.

D

1729.

ELUDED mortals, whom the great
Chufe for companions tête-à-tête;

Who at their dinners, en famille,
Get leave to fit whene'er you will;
Then boasting tell us where you din'd,
And how his lordship was so kind;
How many pleasant things he fpoke;
And how you laugh'd at every joke:
Swear he's a moft facetious man;
That you and he are cup and can:
You travel with a heavy load,
And quite mistake preferment's road.
Suppose my lord and you alone,
Hint the leaft intereft of your own;
His vifage drops, he knits his brow,
He cannot talk of bufinefs now:

VOL. VIII.

B

Or,

toaft :"

Or, mention but a vacant poft,
He'll turn it off with "Name your
Nor could the nicest artist paint
A countenance with more constraint.
For, as their appetites to quench,
Lords keep a pimp to bring a wench;
So men of wit, are but a kind
Of panders to a vicious mind;
Who proper objects must provide
To gratify their luft of pride,

When, wearied with intrigues of state,
They find an idle hour to prate.
Then, fhall you dare to ask a place,
You forfeit all your patron's grace,
And disappoint the fole design,
For which he fummon'd you to dine.
Thus Congreve spent in writing plays,
And one poor office, half his days:
While Montague, who claim'd the ftation
To be Mæcenas of the nation,

For poets open table keep,

But ne'er confider'd where they flept:
Himself as rich as fifty Jews,

Was eafy, though they wanted fhoes;
And crazy Congreve fcarce could spare
A fhilling to discharge his chair:
Till prudence taught him to appeal
From Pæan's fire to party zeal;
Not owing to his happy vein
The fortunes of his later scene,
Took proper principles to thrive ;
And fo might every dunce alive.

Thus

Thus Steele, who own'd what others writ, And flourish'd by imputed wit,

From perils of a hundred jails,

Withdrew to ftarve, and die in Wales.

Thus Gay, the hare with many friends,
Twice feven long years the court attends :
Who, under tales conveying truth,
To virtue form'd a princely youth *:
Who paid his courtship with the crowd,
As far as modeft pride allow'd ;
Rejects a fervile usher's place,
And leaves St. James's in difgrace.
Thus Addifon, by lords careft,
Was left in foreign lands distrest;
Forgot at home, became for hire
A travelling tutor to a 'fquire:
But wifely left the Muses' hill,
To business fhap'd the poet's quill,
Let all his barren laurels fade,

Took up himself the courtier's trade,

And, grown a minifter of ftate,

Saw poets at his levee wait.

Hail, happy Pope! whofe generous mind

Detefting all the statesman kind,

Contemning courts, at courts unfeen,

Refus'd the vifits of a queen.

A foul with every virtue fraught,
By fages, priefts, or poets taught;
Whofe filial piety excels

Whatever Grecian ftory tells'

* William duke of Cumberland, fon to George II.

A genius for all stations fit,
Whofe meaneft talent is his wit:

His heart too great, though fortune little,
To lick a rascal statesman's spittle;
Appealing to the nation's tafte,
Above the reach of want is plac'd:
By Homer dead was taught to thrive,
Which Homer never could alive;
And fits aloft on Pindus' head,
Defpifing flaves that cringe for bread.
True politicians only pay

For folid work, but not for play:
Nor ever choose to work with tools
Forg'd up in colleges and fchools.
Confider how much more is due
To all their journeymen than you:
At table you can Horace quote;
They at a pinch can bribe a vote :
You fhew your skill in Grecian story;
But they can manage Whig and Tory:
You, as a critick, are fo curious
To find a verse in Virgil spurious;
But they can fmoke the deep defigns,
When Bolingbroke with Pulteney dines.
Befides, your patron may upbraid ye,
That you have got a place already;
An office for your talents fit,

To flatter, care, and fhew your wit ;
To fnuff the lights and stir the fire,
And get a dinner for your hire.

What claim have you to place or penfion?
He overpays
in condefcenfion.

But,