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In Jonathan's reign, if you come here to eat,
5 You have choice of good wine, no choice of good
Oh Jove ! then how fully might all fides be bleft,
An EPITAPH by Dr Swift to the memory of
Frederick Duke of SCHOMBERG, who was unhappily killed in crossing the river Boyne on the ist of July 1690, and was buried in St Patrick's cathedral, where the Dean and chapter erected a small monument to his honour at their own expence.
Hic infra fitum eft corpus
ad BUDINDAM occisi, A. D. 1690.
etiam atque etiam petierunt,
diu ac fæpe orando nil profecere ;
+ Saltem ut fcias, hofpes, Ubinam terrarum SCONBERGENSES cineres delite
A. D. 1731. + The words that Dr Swift first concluded the epitaph with, were, Saltem ut fciat viator indig abundus, quali in cellula tánti du&oris cineres delitescunt. For the author was always heard to spcak with great reverence of the memory of that brave duke, as well as his glorious master K. William; and indeed of all others who have struggled for the liberties of those kingdoms, against the repeated attempts of arbitrary power. Dub. edit.
A BALLAD on the game of TRAFFICT
Written at the castle of Dublin, in the time of the
Earl of Berkeley's government. MY
Y Lord ll, to find out who must deal,
Delivers cards about,
To find the Doctor out.
5 And seem'd to knit his brow: For on a knave he never looks
But h’thinks upon Jack How.
+ By casting our eyes over this ballad, we may observe in what manner the Earl and Countess of Berkeley, and their little group at the castle of Dublin, spent their evenings in private, when they were totally disengaged from the noise, the bustle, and the plague of business and ceremony.
The several characters which make up this little group, are the Earl and Countefs of Berkeley, Mrs Biddy Floyd, Mrs Herries, Mrs Weston, and Dr Swift. This ballad appears to have been designed as a piece of raillery upon the whole let, and written purely
for their domestic entertainment. This poem, so far as it runs, is full of mirth and humour; the second stanza in particular is wonderfully striking,
But then bis Honour cry'd, &c. "he surprise of my Lord Berkeley, and he bringing Jack How to remembrance upon the sight of a knave, for no other reason than because he was a famous anti-courtier in those times, perpetually opposing and thwarting the measures of K. William in the house of Commons, is a whimsical piece of drollery in the poetic strain, especially when addressed to a court-lord in one of the highest employments. We are at a loss to know whether any more characters were designed to have been introduced into this ballad; but we may reasonably suppose there were, because in reality it seemeth to have been broken off in the very midst of its career. However, indeed, the politeness of Dr Swift would not suffer him to enlarge or correct it, after my Lady Betty Berkeley had in a manner given it the finishing stroke; on occafion of which he writ the Ballad to the tune of the Cutpurse, (vol. 6. p. 75.), which hath abundance of life, humour, pleasantry, and politeness, Swift.
| The Earl of Berkeley.
My Lady, though she is no player,
Some bungling partner takes,
Takes snuff, and holds the stakes.
For pair-royals and sequents ;
The castle seldom frequents. Quoth Herries, fairly putting cases,
I'd won it on my word, If I had but a pair of aces,
And could pick up a third.
On Sundays to be fine in,
'Twill just now dye the lining. 66 With these is Parson Swift,
“ Not knowing how to spend his time, 6 Does make a wretched shift,
" To deafen them with puns and rhyme t."
Verses said to be written on the UNION.
Of her entirely-English heart,
* Biddy Floyd. See letter to Colonel Hunter, in vol. 4. let. 96, p. 208. and vol. 6. p. 114.
+ Lady Betty Berkeley, finding this ballad in the author's room unfinished, underwrit the last stanza, and left the paper where she had found it. See vol. 6. p. 75.
See how the double nation lies;
* Will. Wood's petition to the people of
IRELAND, being an excellent new Song.
Supposed to be made and fung in the street of Dublin,
by Will. Wood, ironmonger and halfpennymonger. 1725.
Y dear Irish folks,
Come leave off your jokes,
So fair and so bright,
5 Observe how they glister and shine.
They'll sell, to my grief,
As cheap as neck beef, For counters at cards to your
Your children may play
Come hither and try ;
I'll teach you to buy
Come; threepence a score,
I ask you no more,
When tradesmen have gold,
The thief will be bold,
My copper is such,
No robber will touch,
The little blackguard,
Who gets very hard
When his pockets are cramm’d
Here's halfpence in plenty,
For one you'll have twenty,
Your neighbours will think,
When your pocket cries chink,
thankers, I'll make you my bankers, As good as Ban Burton or Fade +:
For nothing shall pass
But my pretty brass,
I'm a son of a whore,
• The Drapier's printer. + Two famous bankers.