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d's glory,

And, oh ! how short are human schemes !

435 Here ended all our golden dreams. What St John's skill in state-affairs, What Ormond's valour, Oxford's cares, To save their finking country lent, Was all destroy'd by one event.

440 Too soon that precious life was ended *, On which alone our weal depended. When up, a dangerous faction starts t, With wrath and vengeance in their hearts ; By folemn league and cou'nant bound,

445 To ruin, Naughter, and confound ; To turn religion to a fable, And make the government a Babel : Pervert the laws, disgrace the gown, Corrupt the f te, rob the c

450 To sacrifice old E And make her infamous in story. When such a tempeft shook the land, How could unguarded virtue ftand? With horror, grief, despair, the Dean

455 Beheld the dire destructive scene: His friends in exile, or the tower, Himself within the frown of power $; Pursu'd by base invenom'd pens, Far to the land of S

460 A servile race in folly nurs’d, Who truckle most, when treated worft.

* In the height of the quarrel between the ministers, the Queen died. Dub. edit.

+ Upon Queen Anne's death, the Whig faction was restored to power, which they exercised with the utmost rage and revenge ; impeached and banisaed the chief leaders of the church-party, and stripped all their adherents of what employments they had, 6. Dub. edit.

* Upon the Queen's death, the Dean returned to live in Dublin, at the deanry house. Numberless libels were writ against him in England as a Jacobite ; he was insulted in the street, and at nighs he was forced to be attended by his servants armed. Dub. edit.

# The land of Sm-and feps, is Ireland, Dub. edit.

and fens lt;

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By innocence and resolution,
He bore continual perfecution;
While numbers to preferment rose,

Whose merit was to be his foes.
When ev’n his own familiar friends,
Intent upon their private ends,
Like renegadoes now he feels,
Against him lifting up their heels.

470 The Dean did, by his pen,

An infamous destructive cheat * :
Taught fools their int’reft how to know,

them arms to ward the blow.
Envy hath own'd it was his doing,

To save that hapless land from ruin ;
While they who at the steerage food,
And reap'd the profit, fought his blood.

To save them from their evil fate,
In him was held a crime of ftate.

A wicked monster on the bench to
Whose fury blood could never quench ;
As vile and profligate a villain,
As modern Scroggs, or old Treslilian I;

One Wood, a hardwareman from England, had a patent for coining copper half.pence for Ireland, to the sum of 108,00od. which in the consequence must leave that kingdom without gold or silver. Dub. edit.

See the Drapier's letters, in vol. ij. + One Whitshed was then Chief Justice. He had some years before prosecuted a printer for a pamphlet writ by the Dean, to persuade the people of Ireland to wear their own manufactures (vol. iii. p. 3.). Whitshed sent the jury down eleven times, and kept them nine hours, until they were forced to bring in a special verdi&t. He sat as judge afterwards on the trial of the printer of the Drapier's tourth letter (vol. iii. p. 59.]: but the jury, against all he could say or swear, threw out the bill

. All the kingdom. took the Drapier's part, except the courtiers, or those who ex. pected places. The Drapier was celebrated in many poems and pamphlets. His fign was set up in most of the streets of Dublin, (where many of them till continue), and in several country,

Dub. edit. Scroggs was Chief Justice under King Charles II.: his judge wcot always varied in state-trials, according to directions from


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Who long all justice had discarded,
Nor fear'd be God, nor man regarded;
Vow'd on the Dean his rage to vent,
And make bim of his zeal repent:
But heav'n his innocence defends,
The grateful people stand his friends ; ;
Not strains of law, nor judges frown,
Nor topics brought to please the c-
Nor witness hir'd, nor jory pick'd,
Prevail to bring him in convict.

In exile, with a steady heart *,
He spent his life's declining part ;
Where folly, pride, and faction fway,
Remote from St John t, Pope, and Gay.

“ Alas, poor Dean! his only fcope
“ Was to be held a misanthrope.
“ This into gen'ral odium drew him,
" Which if he lik’d, much good may't do him.
“ His zeal was not to lafh our crimes,
« But discontent against the times :
• For had we made him timely offers
“ To raise his pf, or fill his coffers,
« Perhaps he might have truckled down,
" Like other brethren of his gown.
“ For party he would scarce bave bled :
" I say no more

becaufe he's dead: • What writings has he left behind ? I hear they're of a diff'rent kind : A few in verse; but most in profe• Some bigb-flown pampblets, 1 suppose :

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court. Treffilian was a wicked judge, hanged above three bundred years ago

Dub, edit. * In Ireland, which he had reason to call a place of exile; to which country nothing could have driven him but the Queen's death, who had determined to fix bim in England, in spite of ebe Duchess of Somerset, 6c. Dub. edit.

Heary St John, Lord Viscount Bofingbruke. 'Dub. cdit.

“ All scribbled in the worst of times,

515 To palliate his friend Oxford's crimes, “ To praise Queen Anne, nay more, defend her, As never fav’ring the pretender : Or libels yet conceald from fight, “ Against the court to fhew his spight:

520 Perhaps his travels, part the third ; A lie' at ev'ry second wordts Offensive to a loyal ear :

not one sermon, you may swear.

« But


He hundred pleasing stories,
With all the turns of Whigs and Tories :
Was chearful to his dying day,
And friends would let him have his way.


As for his works in verse or prose,
I own myself no judge of those.
Nor can I tell what critics thought 'em ;
But this I know, all people bought 'em,
As with a moral view design'd,
To please and to reform mankind :
And, if he often missd his aim,
The world must own it, to their same,
The praise is his, and theirs the blame.

the little wealth he had
To build a house for fools and mad ;
To thew, by one satiric touch,
No nation wanted it so much.
That kingdom he hath left his debtor,
I wish it foon


have a better *. And, since you dread no farther lashes, Methinks you may forgive his ashes.

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See above, p. 6.


To the Earl of PETERBOROW, who commanded the British forces in Spain *.

Written in the year 1706. MORDANTO fills the trump of fame,

The Chriftian world his deeds proclaim, And prints are crouded with his name.

In journeys he outrides the post, Sits up till midnight with his hoft,

5 Talks politics, and gives the toaft.

Knows ev'ry prince in Europe's face, Flies like a fquib from place to place, And travels not, but runs a race.

From Paris gazette A-la-main, This day arriv’d, without his train, Mordanto in a week from Spain.

A messenger comes all a-reek
Mordanto at Madrid to seek;
He left the town above a week.

Next day the postboy winds his horn,
And rides thro' Dover in the morn:
Mordanto's landed from Leghorn.


This noble Lord had made a most considerable figure in his day. His character was amiable and uncommon. His life was a continued series of variety. In his public and private conduct he differed from most men. He had visited all climates, but had Itaid in none. He was a citizen of the world. He conquered and maintained armies without money. His actions and expre fions were peculiar to himself. He was of a vivacity superior to all fatigue, and his courage was beyond any conception of danger. He verified, in many instances, whatever has been said of ro. mantic heroes. He seems to have been fixed only in his friendships and moral principles. He had a most true regard and affection for Swift and Pope. The Dean has here described him in a very particular manner, but so justly, that the four last ftanzas will give a most perfect and comp idea of Lord Peterborow's perfon and military virtue. His wit in the letter, vol. iv. P. 204. is easy and unaffected. At the time when he wrote that letter, he had hung up his helmet and his buckler, and was retired to his though and his wheelbarrow, wearicd of courts, and disgusted

ch hatesmen. Orrery.


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