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,
Wouldft thou but agree to this humble request :
Put both deans in one; or if that's too much trouble,
Instead of the deans, make the dean'ry double.


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,
UT HEREDES Ducis monumentum
In memoriam PARENTIS erigendum curarent :
Sed poftquam per epiftolas, per amicos,

diu ac fæpe orando nil profecere ;
Hunc demum lapidem ipfi ftatuerunt,

+ Saltem ut fcias, hofpes, Ubinam terrarum SCONBERGENSES cineres delite

Plus potuit fama virtutis apud alienos,
Quam fanguinis proximitas apud fuos.

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,
But the first knave does seldom fail

To find the Doctor out.
But then his Honour cry'd, Godzooks!

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.

[ocr errors][merged small]

My Lady, though she is no player,

Some bungling partner takes,
And wedg'd in corner of a chair

Takes snuff, and holds the stakes.
Dame Floyd * looks out in grave suspense

For pair-royals and sequents ;
But wisely cautious of her pence,

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.
But Weston has a new-cast gown

On Sundays to be fine in,
And, if she can but win a crown,

'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.

HE Queen | has lately lost a part

Of her entirely-English heart,
For want of which, by way of botch,
She piec'd it up again with Scotch.
Bless'd revolution, which creates
Divided hearts, united states !
Vol. VII.


[blocks in formation]

* 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.

| Anne.

[ocr errors]

See how the double nation lies;
Like a rich coat with skirts of frize:
As if a man in making posies
Should bundle thiftles up with rofes.
Who ever yet a union faw
Of kingdoms without faith or law?
Henceforward let no statesman dare
A kingdom to a ship compare ;
Left he should call our commonweal
A vessel with a double keel;
Which, just like ours, new rigg'd and mann'd,
And got about a league from land,
By change of wind to leeward side,
The pilot knew not how to guide.
So tossing faction will o'erwhelm
Our crazy

double-bottom'd realm.



* 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,
MY ,

Come leave off your jokes,
And buy up my halfpence so fine ;

So fair and so bright,
They'll give you delight;

5 Observe how they glister and shine.

They'll sell, to my grief,

As cheap as neck beef, For counters at cards to your

wife i
And every day

Your children may play
Span-farthing, or tofs on the knife.





Come hither and try ;

I'll teach you to buy
A pot of good ale for a farthing :

Come; threepence a score,

I ask you no more,
And a fig for the Drapier and Harding *.

When tradesmen have gold,

The thief will be bold,
By day and by night for to rob him :

My copper is such,

No robber will touch,
And so you may daintily bob him.

The little blackguard,

Who gets very hard
His halfpence for cleaning your shoes ;

When his pockets are cramm’d
With mine, and be
He may swear he has nothing to lose.

Here's halfpence in plenty,

For one you'll have twenty,
Though thousands were not worth a pudden.

Your neighbours will think,

When your pocket cries chink,
You are grown plaguy rich on a sudden.
You will be


thankers, I'll make you my bankers, As good as Ban Burton or Fade +:

For nothing shall pass

But my pretty brass,
And then you'll be all of a trade.

I'm a son of a whore,
If I have a word more




• The Drapier's printer. + Two famous bankers.

« ForrigeFortsett »