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The LIFE and CHARACTER of Dr SWIFT.

Upon a Maxim in RocheFOUCAULT II.

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WISE Rochefoucault a maxim writ
Made

up of malice, truth, and wit: .
If what he says be not a joke,
We mortals are strange kind of folk. :-
But hold :

-Before we farther go; 'Tis fit the maxim we should know..

He says, “. Whenever fortune sends
“ Disasters to our dearest friends,
“ Altho'we outwardly may grieve,
We oft are laughing in our sleeve."
And when I think upon't, this minute,
I fancy, there is something in it.

We see a comrade get a fall,
Yet laugh our hearts out, one and all.“

Tom for a wealthy wife looks round,
A nymph that brings ten thousand pound;
He no where could have better pickd ;
A rival comes, and Tom-is nick'd
See how behave his friends profeft,
They turn the matter to a jeft;
Loll out their tongues, and thus they talk,
Poor Tom bas got a plaguy baulk!

I could give instances enough,
That human friendship is but stuff.
Whene'er a flatt'ring puppy cries,
You are his dearest friend; he lies:
To lose a guinea at piquet,
Would make him rage, and storm, and fret;

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See the maxim, in vol. 6. p. 233.

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Bring from his heart fincerer groans,
Than if he heard

you
broke
your

bones.
COME, tell me truly, would you take well,
Suppose your friend and you were equal,
To see him always foremòf stand,
Affect to take the upper hand,
And strive to pass in public view,
For much a better man than you ?
Envy, I doubt, would pow'rful prove,
And get the better of your love :
"Twould please your palate, like a feast,
To see him mortify'd at least-

'Tis true, we talk of friendship much,
But who are they that can keep touch-?
True friendship in two breasts requires
The fame averfions and desires :
My friend should have, when I complain,
A fellow-feeling of my pain.

Yet, by experience, oft we find,
Our friends are of a diff'rent mind;
And were I tortur'd with the gout,
They'd laugh to see me make a rout,
Glad that themselves could walk about.

Let me suppose, two special friends,
And each to poetry pretends ;
Would either poet take it well,
To hear the other bore the bell-
His rival for the chiefeft reckon'd,
Himself pass only for the second?

-
When you are fick, your friends, you say,
Will send their bawd'ye's ev'ry day :
Alas! that gives you small relief!
They send for manners; not for griefm;
Nor, if you dy'd, would fail to go
That ev'ning to a puppet.show:

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Yet come in time to hew their loves,
And get a bat-band, scarf, and gloves.

To make these truths the better known,
Let me ppose the case my own.

The day will come, when't shall be said, D'ye hear the news-- - the Dean is dead! Poor man: he went, all on a sudden--!” H'as dropp'd, and givin the crow a pudding ! What

money was behind him found ? “ I hear about two thousand pound « Tis own'd he was a man of witYet many a foolish thing he writ --; “ 'And sure he must be deeply learn'd-!" That's more than ever. I discern'd; “ I know his nearest friends complain, “ He was too airy for a DeanHe was an honest man, I'll swear Why, Sir, I differ from you there; For I have heard another storý, He was a most confounded Tory! “ Yet here we had a strong report, " That he was well receiv'd at court." Why, then it was, I do assert, Their goodness, more than his defert He grew, or else his comrades lyd, Confounded dull, before he dy'd.

He hop'd to have a lucky bit, Some medals fent him for his wit ; But truly there the Dean was bit“ And yet, I think, for all your jokes, “ His claim as good as other folks

“ Must we the drapier then forget? * Is not our nation in his debt'? “ 'Twas he that writ the Drapier's letters ! He should have left them for his betters;

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We had a hundred abler men,
Nor need depend upon

his pen..
Say what you will about his reading,
You never can defend his breeding!
Who in his fatires running riot,
Could never leave the world in quiet ;
Attacking, when he took the whim,
Court, city, camp, all one to him.-

But why would he, except he slobber'd,
Offend our patriot, Great Sir Robert;
Whose counsels aid the sov'reign pow'r,
To save the nation ev'ry hour ?
What scenes of evil he unravels,
In fatires, libels, lying travels!
Not sparing his own clergy-cloth,
But eats into it like a moth.

• If he makes mankind bad as elves,
“ Answer, they may thank themfelves :
“ If vice can never be abash'd,
" It must be ridiculd or lash'd."
But if I chance to make a flip,
What right had he to hold the whip?

“ If you resent it, who's to blame?
“ He neither knew you, nor your name.
“ Should vice expect to 'scape rebuke,
“ Because its owner is a duke?
" Vice is a vermin, sportsmen say
« No vermin can demand fair play,
“ But ev'ry hand may juftly flay."

I envy not the wits, who write
Merely to gratify their spite;
Thus did the Dean ; his only scope
Was, to be held a misanthrope.
This into gen'ral odium drew him,
Which, if he lik'd, much good may't do him:

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130 This gave

him enemies in plenty, Throughout two realms nineteen in twenty ; 135 His zeal was not to lash our crimes, But discontent against the times :: For had we made him timely offers, To raise his post, or fill his coffers ; Perhaps he might have truckled down,

140 Like other brethren of his

gown. For party he would scarce have bled I say no more, because he's dead.

“But who could charge him to his face, “That e'er he cring’d to men in place?

145 His principles, of antient date, “ Ill suit with those profess’d of late: “ The Pope, or Calvin, he'd oppose, “And thought they both were equal foes : " That churcb and state had suffer'd more 150 By Calvin than the scarlet whore : “Thought Popish and fanatic zeal Both bitter foes to Britain's weal. “The Pope would of our faith bereave us— “ But still our monarchy would leave us

155 “ Not so the vile fanatic crew; “ That ruin'd church and monarch too.

« SUPPOSING these reflections just, We should indulge the Dean's disgust, Who saw this factious tribe caress'd,

160 “ And lovers of the church distress’dThe patrons of the good old cause, " In Jenates fit, in making laws ; “ The most malignant of the herd, “ In surest way to be preferrd;

165 And preachers find the better quarter, « For railing at the royal martyr.

“ WHOLE swarms of seets, with grief, he saw,. More favour'd than the church by law:

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