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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.
30 (For none could tell whose turn was next)
Sad omens of the dire event.
Stood chatering with incessant din ;
35 To rouse and warn the nymph within. The owl foresaw, in penfive mood,
The ruin of ber ancient seat;
To seek a more secure retreat.
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),
“ 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.
Who in your merry freaks
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.
* 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.
ON BURNING A. DULL POEM.
Written in the year 1729.
That pois'nous juice which kills by cold.
In hafte, with imprecations dire,
How could I more inhance its fame?.
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
Chuse for companions tête à tête:
and he are cup and cann: