THE VICEROY,

A BALL A ́D.

To the Tune of, Lady Ifabella's Tragedy

F Nero, tyrant, petty king*,
Who heretofore did reign
In fam'd Hibernia, I will fing,
And in a ditty plaiu.

He hated was by rich and poor,
For reafons you fhall hear;
So ill he exercis'd his power,

That he himself did fear.

Full proud and arrogant was he
And covetous withal;
The guilty he would ftill fet free,

But guiltiefs men enthral.

He, with a haughty impious nod,

Would curfe and dogmatize; Not fearing either man or God: Gold he did idolize.

*

A patriot of high degree,

Who could no longer bear This upftart Viceroy's tyranny, Against him did declare.

And, arm'd with truth, impeach'd the Don

Of his enormous crimes,

Which I'll unfold to you anon,
In low, but faithful rhymes.
The articles recorded ftand

Against this peerless peer,
Search but the archives of the landt,
You'll find them written there.
Attend, and juftly I'll recite

His treasons to you all,
The heads fet in their native light
(And figh poor Gaphny's fall).
That traiteroufly he did abuse
The power in him repos'd,
And wickedly the fame did ufe,
On all mankind impos'd.
That he, contrary to all law,
An oath did frame and make,
Compelling the militia

Th' illegal oath to take.
Free-quarters for the

too

army He did exact and force On Proteftants; his love to show, Than Papift us'd them worse. On all provifons deftin'd for The camp at Limerick, He laid a tax full hard and fore, Though many men were fick.

The futlers too he did ordain

For licences fould pay,
Which they refus'd with juft difdain,
And fled the camp away.

By which provifions were fo fcant,
That hundreds there did die.
The foldiers food and drink did want,
Nor famine could they fly.

He fo much lov'd his private gain,

He could not hear or fee;

They might or die, or might complain,
Without relief pardie.

That, above and against all right,
By word of mouth did he,
In council fitting, hellifh fpite,
The farmer's fate decree:

That he, O ciel! without trial,
Straightway fhould hanged be;
Though then the courts were open all,
Yet Nero judge would be.
No fooner faid, but it was done,

The bourreau did his worft;
Gaphny, alas! is dead and gone,
And left his judge accur.
In this concife defpotic way
Unhappy Gaphny fell,
Which did all honeft men affray,
As truly it might well.

Full two good hundred pounds a year,
This poor man's real estate,
He fettled on his favourite dear,
And Culliford can fay't.

Befides, he gave five hundred pound
To Fielding his own feribe,

Who was his bail; one friend he found,
He ow'd him to the bribe,

But for this horrid murder vile

None did him profecute;

His old friend help'd him o'er the ftile:
With Satan who dispute !

With France, fair England's mortal foe,
A trade he carry'd on ;

Had any other done't, I trow,
To Tripos he had gone.

That he did likewife traiterouЛly,
To bring his ends to bear,
Enrich himself moft knavifhly;
O thief without compare!

Vaft quantities of ftores did he
Embezzle and parloin;

Of the king's flores he kept a key,
Converting them to coin.

The forfeited eftates alfo,
Both real and perfonal,

Did with the ftores together go,
Fierce Cerberus fwallow'd all.

Mean while the foldiers figh'd and fobb'd,
For not one fous had they:
His excellence had each man fobb'd,
For he had funk their pay.

Nero, without the leaft difguife,
The papifts at all times
Still favour'd, and their robberies
Look'd on as trivial crimes,

The Proteftants, whom they did rob
During his government,

Were forc'd with patience, like good Job,
To reft themfelves content.

For he did bafely them refufe
All legal remedy;

The Romans ftill he well did ufe,
Still fereen'd their roguery.
Succinctly thus to you I've told,

How this Viceroy did reign;
And other truths I thall unfold,
For truth is always plain.
The beft of Queens he hath revil'd,
Before and fince her death;
He, cruel and ungrateful, fmil'd
When the refigned her breath.
Forgetful of the favours kind

She had on him bestow'd,
Like Lucifer his rancorous mind,
He lov'd nor her nor God.
But liften, Nero, lend thy ears,

As ftill thou haft them on;
Hear what Britannia fays with tears,

Of Anna dead and gone.
"Oh! facred be her memory,
"For ever dear her name!
"There never was, nor e'er can be,

"A brighter, juster dame.

"Bleft be my fons, and eke all thofe

"Who on her praises dwell! "She conquer'd Britain's fierceft foes, "She did all queens excel.

"All princes, kings, and potentates,
"Ambaffadors did fend:

All nations, provinces, and ftates,
"Sought Anna for their friend.

"In Anna they did all confide,

"For Anna they could trust:
<< Her royal faith they all had try'd,
"For Anna ftill was just,

Truth, mercy, juftice, did surround
"Her awful judgment-feat,
In her the Graces all were found,
"In Anna all complete.

"She held the fword and balance right,
"And fought her people's good;
In clemency fhe did delight,
"Her reign not ftain'd with blood.

Her gracious goodness, piety,
"In all her deeds did fhine,
And bounteous was her charity;
Al attributes divine.

"Confummate wisdom, meeknefs all, "Adorn'd the words fhe fpoke, "When they from her fair lips did fall; "And fweet her lovely look.

Ten thousand glorious deeds to crown, "She caus'd dire war to cease: "A greater empreis ne'er was known; "She fix'd the world in peace.

"This laft and godlike act achiev'd, "To heave the wing'd her tight: "Her lofs with tears all Europe griev'd; "Their strength, and dear delight. "Leave we in blifs this heavenly faint, « Revere, ye juft, her urn; "Her virtues high and excellent, "Aftrea gone we mourn, "Commemorate, iny fons, the day "Which gave great Anna birth: "Keep it for ever and ior aye, "And annual be your mirth!" Illuftrious George now fills the throne, Our wife benign good king:

Who can his wondrous deeds make known,
Or his bright actions fing?

Thee, favourite Nero, he has deign'd
To raise to high degree!

Well thou thy honours haft fuftain'd,
Well vouch'd thy ancestry.

But pass-Thefe honours on thee laid,
Can they e'er make thee white?
Don't Gaphny's blood, which thou hast shed,
Thy guilty foul afiright?

Oh! are there not, grim mortal, tell,
Places of blifs and woe?

Oh is there not a heaven, a hell?
But whither wilt thou go?

Can nought change thy obdurate mind?
Wilt thou for ever rail?

The prophet on thee well refin'd,
And fet thy wit to fale.

How thou art loft to fenfe and shame,
Three countries witnefs be:

Thy conduct all just men do blame,
Libera nos, Domine!

Dame Juftice waits thee, well I ween,
Her fword is brandish'd high:
Nought can thee from her vengeance screen,
Nor cauft thou from her fly.

Heavy her ire will fall on thee, The glittering fteel is fure: Sooner or later, all agree,

She cuts off the impure.

To her I leave thee, gloomy peer! Think on thy crimes committed: Repent, and be for once incere,

Thou ne'er wilt be De-Witted,

APOLOGY TO A LADY,

WHO TOLD ME, I COULD NOT LOVE HER HEARTILY, BECAUSE I HAD LOVED OTHERS.

PROBABLY BY MR, PRIOR*,

IN IMITATION OF MR. WALLER.

AIR Sylvia, ceale to blame my youth For having lov'd before ;

FA

So men, ere they have learnt the truth, Strange Deities adore.

My youth ('tis true) has often rang'd,

Like bees o'er gaudy Powers;
And many thoufand loves has chang`d,
Till it was fixt in yours.

For, Sylvia, when I saw those eyes,
'Twas foon determin'd there;
Stars might as well for fake the skies,
And vanish into air!

If I from this great rule do err,

New beauties to explore; May I again turn wanderer, And never fettle more!

AGAINST MODESTY IN LOVE,

OR many unfuccefsful years

FO

At Cynthia's feet I lay;

And often bath'd them with my tears,
Defpair'd, but durft not pray.

No proftrate wretch, before the shrine
Of any faint above,

E'er thought his Goddess more divine,
Or paid more awful love.

Still the difdainful dame look'd down
With an infulting pride;
Receiv'd my paffion with a frown,
Or tofs'd her head afde.
When Cupid whisper'd in my ear,

"Ufe more prevailing charms,

"Fond, whining, modeft fool, draw near, "And clafp her in your arms,

With eager kiffes tempt the maid, "From Cynthia's feet depart ; "The lips he warmly muft invade, "Who would pofiefs the heart." With that I hook off all my fears, My better fortune try'd; And Cynthia gave what the for years Had foolishly deny'd.

Whilft Thyrfis sporting on the neighbouring plain, Thus heard the difcontented youth complain: "Afk not the caule why ickly flowers

"Faintly recline their drooping heads; "As fearful of approaching howers,

"They ftrive to nide them in their beds, "Grieving with Celadon they downward grow, "And feel with him a fympathy of woe.

« Chloris will go; the cruel fair,
"Regardles of her dying fwain,
"Leaves him to languish, to despair,

And murmur ut in fighs his pain.
The fugitive to fair Augufta dies,

"To make new flaves, and gain new vidories. "So reftlefs monarchs, though poffefs'd "Of all that we call hate or power, "Fancy themfelves but meanly blett,

་ས

"Vainly ambitious till of more. "Round the wide world impatiently they roam, "Not fatisfy'd with private fway at home."

WHEN THE CAT IS AWAY,
THE MICE MAY PLAY.

A FABLE, INSCRIBED TO DR. SWIFT.
PROBABLY BY MR. PRIOR.
"In domibus Mures avido dente omnia captant;
"In domibus Fures avida mente omnia raptant.”
LADY once (fo ftories fay)

A

By rats and mice infefted,

With gins and traps long fought to flay
The thieves; but still they fcap'd away,
And daily her moleited.

Great havock 'nicngft her cheefe was made,
And much the lofs did grieve her:
At length Grimalkin to her aid
She call'd (no more of cats afraid),
And begg'd him to relieve her.
Soon as Grimalkin came in view,
The vermin back retreated;
Grimalkin fwift as lightning flew,
Thousands of mice he daily few,

Thoufands of rats defeated,
Ne'er cat before fuch glory won;
All people did adore him:
Grimalkin far all cats out-fhone,
And in his lady's favour none
Was then preferr'd before him.

Pert Mrs. Abigail alone

Envy'd Grimalkin's glory :

Her favourite lap-dog now was grown
Neglected; him the did bemoạn,
And rav'd like any Tory.

*The hints of this and the following Fable the Old Lady and her Cats," printed in “The appear to bave originated from “The Fable been both afcribed to Dr Swift. General Pajticript," Nov. 7, 1709 They bave

N.

She cannot bear, fhe fwears fhe won't

To fee the cat regarded;

But firmly is refolv'd upon't,

And vows, that, whatfoe'er comes on't,
She'll have the cat difcarded.

She begs, fhe ftorms, the fawns, the frets, (Her arts are all employ'd)

And tells her lady in a pet,
Grimalkin colt her more in meat
Than all the rats deftroy'd,
At length this fpiteful waiting-maid
Produc'd a thing amazing;

The favourite cat's a victim made,
To fatisfy this prating jade,

And fairy turn'd a-grazing.
Now lap-dog is again restor'd

Into his lady's favour;
Sumptuously kept at bed and board,
And he (fo Nab has given her word)

Shall from all vermin fave her.
Nab much exults at this fuccefs,
And, overwhelm'd with joy,
Her lady fondly does carefs,
And tells her, Fubb can do no lefs

Than all her foes deftroy.

But vain fuch hopes; the mice that fled
Return, now Grim's difcarded;
Whilft Fubb till ten, on filken bed,
Securely lolls his drowsy head,

And leaves cheese unregarded.
Nor rats nor mice the lap-dog fear,
Now uncontroll'd their theft is:
And whatfoe'er the vermin fpare,
Nab and her dog betwixt them fhare,
Nor pie nor pipin left is.
Mean while, to cover their deceit,
At once, and flander Grim;
Nab fays, the cat comes out of spight,
To rob her lady every night,

So lays it all on him.
Nor corn fecure in garret high,

Nor cheefecake fafe in clofet;
The cellars now unguarded lie,
On every fhelf the vermin prey;

And till Grimalkia does it.
The grains from corn apace decay'd,

No bags to market go:
Complaints came from the dairy-maid,
The mice had fpoil'd her butter trade,
And eke her cheefe alfo.

With this fame lady once their liv'd
A trufty fervant-maid,

Who, hearing this, full much was griev'd,
Fearing her lady was deceiv'd,

And haften'd to her aid.

Much art the us'd for to difclofe
And find out the deceit;
At length the to the lady goes,
Discovers her domeflic foes,
And opens all the cheat.

Struck with the fenfe of her mistake,

The lady, difcontented, Refolves again her cat to take, And ne'er again her cat forfake, Left fhe again repent it.

THE WIDOW AND HER CAT:

A

WIDOW kept a favourite cat,

At first a gentle creature;

But, when he was grown fleek and fat,
With many a mouse, and many a rat,
He foon difclos'd his nature,

The fox and he were friends of old,
Nor could they now be parted;
They nightly flunk to rob the fold,
Devour'd the lambs, the fleeces fold;

And Pufs grew lion-hearted.

He fcratch'd her maid, he ftole the cream, He tore her beft lac'd pinner;

Nor Chanticleer upon the beam,

Nor chick, nor duckling 'fcapes, when Grim Invites the fox to dinner.

The dame full wifely did decree,

For fear he should difpatch more,

That the falfe wretch fhould worried be
But in a faucy manner he

Thus fpeech'd it like a Lechmere* : "Muft I, again all right and law,

"Like pole-cat vile be treated? "I, who fo long with tooth and claw, "Have kept domeftic mice in awe,

And foreign foes defeated!

"Your golden pippins, and your pies,
"How oft have I defended!
«Tis true, the pinner which you prize,
"I tore in frolick; to your eyes
"I never harm intended.

"I am a cat of honour."-" Stay!"
Quoth the, "no longer parley;
"Whate'er you did in battle ay,
"By law of arms, became your prey:
"I hope you won it fairly.

"Of this we'll grant you ftand acquit,
But not of your outrages:
"Tell me, perfidious! was it fit
"To make my cream a perquifite,
"And steal, to mend your wages?
"So flagrant is thy infolence,

"So vile thy breach of truft is,
"That longer with thee to difpenfe,
"Were want of power, or want of fenfe
"Here, Towzer !-do him juftice."

C

IV. SET BY MR. SMITH,

OME, weep no more, for 'tis in vain ; Torment not thus your pretty heart'; Think, Flavia, we may meet again,

As well as, that we now mutt part. You figh and weep; the God's neglect That precious dew your eyes let fall: Our joy and grief with like respect

They mind; and that is, not at all. We pray, in hopes they will be kind, As if they did regard our state: They hear; and the return we find

Is, that no prayers can alter fate. Then clear your brow, and look more gay, Do not yourfeli to grief refign; Who knows but that thofe powers may, The pair they now have parted, join? Put fince they have thus cruel been,

And could fuch conftant lovers fever; I dare not truft, left, now they're in,

They should divide us two for ever. Then, Flavia, come, and let us grieve, Remembering though upon what score; This our laft parting look believe, Believe we must embrace no more.

PHI

VI. SET BY MR. SMITH,

HILLIS, fince we have both been kind, And of each other had our fill; Tell me what pleasure you can find,

In forcing nature 'gainst her will.

'Tis true, you may with art and pain,
Keep in fome glowings of defire;
But ftill thofe glowings which remain,
Are only ashes of the fire.

Then let us free each other's foul,

And laugh at the dull conftant fool, Who would Love's Liberty control, And teach us how to whine by rule. Let us no impofitions fet,

Or clogs upon each other's heart; But, as for pleafure firft we met,

So now for pleasure let us part, We both have spent our ftock of love, So confequently fhould be free; Thyris expects you in yon' grove, pretty Chloris ftays for me.

And

VII, SET BY MR. DE FESCH.

HILLIS, this pious talk give o'er,
And modeftly pretend no more;
It is too plain an art :

Surely you take me for a fool,
And would by this prove me fo dull,

As not to know your heart,