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Dame Nature when she saw the blow,

25 Aftonilh'd gave a dreadful shriek; And mother Tellus trembled so,

She scarce recover'd in a week.
The fylvan pow'rs with fear perplex'd,
In prudence and compassion fent

30 (For none could tell whose turn was next)

Sad omens of the dire event.
The magpye, lighting on the stock,

Stood chatering with incessant din ;
And with her beak gave many a knock,

35 To rouse and warn the nymph within. The owl foresaw, in penfive mood,

The ruin of ber ancient seat;
And fled in hafte with all her brood,

To seek a more secure retreat.
Laft trotted forth the gentle swine,

To ease her itch againft the fump, And dismally was heard to whine,

All as the scrubb'd her meazly rump. The nymph who dwells in ev'ry tree,

45 (If all be true that poets chant), Condemn'd by fate's supreme decree,

Muft die with her expiring plant. Thus when the gentle Spina found

The thorn committed to her care, Receiv'd its laft and deadly wound,

She fled, and vanish'd into air. But from the root a dismal groan

First issuing struck the murd'rer's ears ; And in a shrill revengeful tone

55 This prophecy he trembling hears. « Thou chief contriver of my fall,

“ Relentless Dean, to mischief born;


“My kindred oft thine hide shall gall,

“ Thy gown and caslock oft be torn. “ And thy confed’rate dame, who brags.

“ That she condemn'd me to the fire, “ Shall rent her petticoats to rags,

And wound her legs with ev'ry bri'r.. “ Nor thou, Lord Arthur *, shalt efcape: 65

“ To thee I often call'd in vain, Against that assaslin in crape ;

“ Yet thou could'ft tamely see me Nain. « Nor when I felt the dreadful blow,

“ Or chid the Dean, or pinch'd thy fpoufe : 70 “ Since you could see me treated so,

“ (An old retainer to your house),
May that fell Dean, by whose command

“ Was form'd this Machi’vellian plot, « Not leave a thistle on thy land;

75 " Then who will own thee for a Scot: “ Pigs and fanatics, cows and teagues,

“Thro'all thy empire I foresee, " To tear thy hedges, join in leagues ; “ Sworn to revenge my thorn and me.

80 “ And thou the wretch ordain'd by fate,

** Neal Gahagan, Hibernian clown, “ With hatchet blunter than thy pate

* To hack my hallow'd timber down, " When thou suspended high in air,

“ Dy'lt on a more ignoble tree, “(For thou shalt fteal thy landlord's mare),

“Then, bloody castif, think on me."


+ Sir Arthur Achcfon.




On the five LADIES at SOT'S-HOLE*

with the DOCTOR+ at their head.

N. B. The Ladies treated the Doctor.

Sent as from an officer in the army.

Written in the year 1728.

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Air ladies, number five,

Who in your merry freaks
With little Tom contrive

To feast on ale and fteaks, While he fits by a-grinning,

To see you safe in Sot's-hole, Set up with greafy linen,

And neither mugs nor pots whole. Alas! I never thought

A priest would please your palate ; Besides, I'll hold a groat,

He'll put you in a ballad: Where I shall see your faces.

On paper daub'd so foul, They'll be no more like graces,

Than Venus like an owl ; And we shall take you rather

To be a midnight-pack Of witches met together,

With Belzebub in black. It fills


heart with woe To think, such ladies fine Should be reduc'd so low

To treat a dull divine.

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* An alehouse in Dublin famous for beef-steaks. † Dr Thomas Sheridan.



Be by a parfon cheated !

Had you been cunning stagers, You might yourselves be treated

By captains and by majors. See how corruption grows,

While mothers, daughters, aunts, Instead of powder'd beaus,

From pulpits chufe gallants. If we who wear our wigs

With fan-tail and with snake, Are bubbled thus by prigs ;

Zds, who would be a rake? Had I a heart to fight,

I'd knock the Doctor down; Or could I read or write,

l'gad I'd wear a gown. Then leave him to his birch *,

And at the Rofe on Sunday, The parson safe at church,

I'll treat you with Burgunday.

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Written in the year 1729.
Analo's hoof alone can hold

That pois'nous juice which kills by cold.
Methought when I this poem read,
No vessel but an ass's head
Such frigid fuftian could contain;
I mean the head without the brain.
The cold conceits, the chilling thoughts
Went down like stupifying draughts :
I found my head began to swim,
A numbness crept thro' ev'ry limb.
• He kept a Tchool.



In hafte, with imprecations dire,
I threw the volume in the fire :
When, who could think?, tho' cold as ice,
It burnt to alhes in a trice.

How could I more inhance its fame?.
Tho' born in snow, it dyd in flame.


A Libel on the Reverend Dr Delany, and his

Excellency John Lord CARTERET.

To Dr DELANY, occasioned by his epifle to his Ex

cellency John Lord CarterET.

Written in the year 1729.

DEluded mortals, whom the great

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Chuse for companions tête à tête:
Who at their dinners en famille,
Get leave to fit whene'er


Then boasting tell us where you din'd,
And how his Lordship was fo kind;
How many pleasant things he spoke,
And how you laugbd at every joke :
Swear he's a moft facetious man;

and he are cup and cann:
You travel with a heavy load,
And quite mistake preferment's road.

Lord and

you alone,
Hint the least int'rest of your own ;
His visage drops, he knits his brow,
He cannot talk of bus'ness now :
Or mention but a vacant post,
He'll turn it off with, Name your toaff.

That you


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