CTER

The LIFE and CHARACTER of Dr SWIFT.

Upon a MAXIM in ROCHEFOUCAULT ||

WISE Rochefoucault a maxim writ

Made up

of malice, truth, and wit: If what he fays 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 fays, "Whenever fortune fends "Difafters to our dearest friends, "Altho' we outwardly may grieve, "We oft are laughing in our fleeve." And when I think upon't, this minute, I fancy, there is something in it.

WE fee a comrade get a fall,
Yet laugh our hearts out, one and all.”

Toм for a wealthy wife looks round,
A nymph that brings ten thousand pound;
He no where could have better pick'd;
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 has got a plaguy baulk!

I could give inftances enough,

That human friendship is but stuff.
Whene'er a flatt'ring puppy cries,
You are his dearest friend-; he lies:

To lofe a guinea at piquet,

Would make him rage, and ftorm, and fret;

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,
Suppofe your friend and you were equal,
To fee him always foremost ftand,
Affect to take the upper hand,
And strive to pafs 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 fee him mortify'd at least-

'Tis true, we talk of friendship much,
But who are they that can keep touch-?
True friendship in two breafts requires
The fame averfions and defires:
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 fuppofe, two fpecial friends,
And each to poetry pretends;
Would either poet take it well,
To hear the other bore the bell-

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so}

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His rival for the chiefeft reckon'd,

Himself pass only for the Second?

WHEN you are fick, your friends, you fay, Will fend their bowd'ye's ev'ry day.

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Alas! that gives you small relief-
They fend for manners-; not for grief-:

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 shew their loves,

And get a bat-band, fcarf, and gloves.

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

THE day will come, when't shall be faid, "D'ye hear the news? the Dean is dead-! "Poor man: he went, all on a sudden―!” H'as dropp'd, and giv'n the crow a pudding! What money was behind him found ? "I hear about two thousand pound ""Tis own'd he was a man of wit-, Yet many a foolish thing he writ; "And fure he must be deeply learn'd-!" That's more than ever I difcern'd-; "I know his nearest friends complain, "He was too airy for a Dean

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"He was an honest man, I'll swear Why, Sir, I differ from you there;

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For I have heard another story,
He was a moft confounded Tory!
"Yet here we had a strong report,
"That he was well receiv'd at court-."
Why, then it was, I do affert,
Their goodness, more than his defert
He grew, or else his comrades ly'd,
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:

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 lobber'd,
Offend our patriot, Great Sir Robert;
Whose counfels aid the fow'reign pow'r,
To fave 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 math.-

"IF he makes mankind bad as elves,
"Answer, they may thank themfelves :
"If vice can never be abash'd,
"It must be ridicul'd or lafh'd."

But if I chance to make aflip,

What right had he to hold the whip?

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"IF you refent 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 justly 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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This gave him enemies in plenty,

Throughout two realms nineteen in twenty;

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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;
Perhaps he might have truckled down,
Like other brethren of his gown.
For party he would fcarce have bled-

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I fay no more, because he's dead.

"But who could charge him to his face,

"That e'er he cring'd to men in place?

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"His principles, of antient date,

"Ill fuit with thofe profefs'd of late:'

"We should indulge the Dean's disgust,
"Who faw this factious tribe carefs'd,
"And lovers of the church diftrefs'd-
"The patrons of the good old cause,
"In fenates fit, in making laws;
"The most malignant of the herd,

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"In fureft way to be preferr❜d—;

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"And preachers find the better quarter,

"For railing at the royal martyr.

"WHOLE Swarms of sects, with grief, he saw,.

"More favour'd than the church by law: