Others aver, that to him Handel
Is scarcely fit to hold a candle.

Strange! that such high disputes should be
'Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee.

6

Said Celia to a reverend Dean,
What reason can be given,
Since marriage is a holy thing,
That they have none in heaven?

'They have,' says he, 'no women there.'
She quick returns the jest:
'Women there are, but I'm afraid

They cannot find a priest.'

7

On Mr. Carthy's knocking out some of his Bookseller's Teeth because he said his Poems did not sell and he could not live by the Profits.

I must confess that I was somewhat warm,

I broke his teeth, but where's the mighty harm? My book, he said, could ne'er afford him meat, And teeth are useless where there's nought to eat.

8

When two-score throats together squall,
It may be call'd a mad-rig-al.

9

Thanks to my stars, I once can see
A window here from scribbling free!
Here no conceited coxcombs pass,
To scratch their paltry drabs on glass;
Nor party fool is calling names,

Or dealing crowns to George and James.

IO

Flattery Exposed.

A prince, the moment he is crown'd,
Inherits every virtue round,

As emblems of the sovereign power,
Like other baubles in the Tower.
But, once you fix him in the tomb,
His virtues fade, his vices bloom,
His panegyrics then are ceased,
He grows a tyrant, dunce, or beast,
As soon as you can hear his knell,
This god on earth turns devil in hell.

II

The Old Gentry.

That all from Adam first began,

Sure none but Whiston doubts; And that his son, and his son's son, Were ploughmen, clowns, and louts.

Here lies the only diff'rence now
Some shot off late, some soon;
Your sires i' th' morning left off plough,
And ours i' th' afternoon.

12

'Carthy,' you say, 'writes well, his genius true';
You pawn your word for him-he'll vouch for you.
So two poor knaves, who find their credit fail,
To cheat the world become each other's bail.

13 Mankind.(32)

Man is a very worm by birth,

Vile reptile, weak and vain!
Awhile he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.

14

On Burning a dull Poem.

An ass's hoof alone can hold

That poisonous juice which kills by cold.
Methought when I this poem read,

No vessel but an ass's head

Such frigid fustian could contain ;

I mean the head without the brain.
The cold conceits, the chilling thoughts,
Went down like stupefying draughts;
I found my head begin to swim,
A numbness crept through every limb.

In haste, with imprecations dire,
I threw the volume in the fire;

When (who could think?) though cold as ice,
It burnt to ashes in a trice.

How could I more enhance its fame?
Though born in snow, it died in flame.

15

On the Vowels.

We are little airy creatures,

All of different voice and features;
One of us in glass is set,

One of us you'll find in jet:
T'other you may see in tin,
And the fourth a box within:
If the fifth you should pursue,
It can never fly from you.

16

The last thing the witty Dean wrote was an epigram on the building of a magazine for arms and stores at Dublin, which was pointed out to him as he was taking exercise during his mental disease: circa 1740.

Behold a proof of Irish sense :

Here Irish wit is seen;

When nothing 's left that's worth defence

They build a magazine.

On Swift.

Swift for the Ancients has reason'd so well,

'Tis apparent from hence that the Moderns excel. (33)

On several Petty Pieces published against Dean Swift when deaf and infirm.

Thy mortal part, ingenious Swift, must die,
Thy fame shall reach beyond mortality!
How puny whirlings joy at thy decline,
Thou darling offspring of the Tuneful Nine!
The noble lion thus, as vigour passes,
The fable tells us, is abused by asses.

An Inscription, intended for a Compartment in Dr. Swift's Monument, designed by Cunningham, on College Green, Dublin.

Say, to the Drapier's (34) vast unbounded fame
What added honours can the sculptor give?
None 'Tis a sanction from the Drapier's name
Must bid the sculptor and his marble live.

On Swift's' Gulliver's Travels.'

Here learn from moral truth and wit refin'd,
How vice and folly have debased mankind :
Strong sense and humour arm in Virtue's cause ;
Thus her great votary vindicates her laws :
While bold and free the glowing colours strike,
Blame not the picture, if the picture 's like.

Bowyer.