Still thy labour and thy care,

What for Dublin thou hast done,
In full lustre shall appear,

And outshine th' unclouded sun.
Large thy mind, and not untried,
For Hibernia now doth stand,
Through the calm, or raging tide,

Safe conducts the ship to land.
Falsely we call the rich man great,
He is only so that knows,
His plentiful or small estate
Wisely to enjoy and use.
He, in wealth or poverty,

Fortune's power alike defies;
And falsehood and dishonesty.

More than death abhors and flies:
Flies from death!-No, meets it brave,
When the suffering so severe
May from dreadful bondage save
Clients, friends, or country dear.
This the sovereign man, complete ;
Hero; patriot; glorious; free;
Rich and wise; and good and great;
Generous Humphry, thou art he.

VOL. XVIII.

G G

AN

AN INVITATION, BY DR. DELANY, IN THE NAME OF DR. SWIFT*.

MIGHTY Thomas†, a solemn senatus‡ I call, To consult for Sapphira; so come one and all; Quit books, and quit business, your cure and your

care,

For a long winding walk, and a short bill of fare.
I've mutton for you, sir; and as for the ladies,
As friend Virgil has it; I've aliud mercedes;
For Letty, one filbert, whereon to regale;
And a peach for pale Constance ¶, to make a full

meal;

*Sce Mrs. Pilkington's Memoirs, vol. III, page 65.

And

+ From their diminutive size, the dean used to call Mr. Pilkington "Tom Thumb," and his wife "his lady fair.”

To correct Mrs. Barber's poems; which were published at London, in 4to, by subscription; with the addition of several poems by her son Constantine, afterward a very learned physician, and president of the college of physicians in Dublin.-The dean, in his will, bequeathed to Mrs. Barber "the medal of queen "Anne and prince George, which she formerly gave me."

The name by which Mrs. Barber was distinguished by her friends.

Mrs. Pilkington.

Mrs. Constantia Grierson, a native of Kilkenny, who died in 1733, at the age of 27. She was well versed in Greek and Roman literature, history, divinity, philosophy, and mathematicks. She gave a proof of her knowledge of the Latin tongue, by her

dedication

And for your cruel part*, who take pleasure in blood, I have that of the grape, which is ten times as good: Flow wit to her honour, flow wine to her health; High rais'd be her worth, above titles or wealth.

BETTESWORTH'S EXULTATION,

UPON HEARING THAT HIS NAME WOULD BE TRANSMITTED TO POSTERITY IN DR. SWIFT'S WORKS.

WELL! now, since the heat of my passion's abated, That the dean hath lampoon'd me, my mind is

elated :

Lampoon'd did I call it ?-No-what was it then!
What was it?'Twas fame to be lash'd by his pen :
For had he not pointed me out, I had slept till
E'en doomsday, a poor insignificant reptile,
Half lawyer, half actor, pert, dull, and inglorious, -
Obscure, and unheard of—but now I'm notorious.
Fame has but two gates, a white and a black one,
The worst they can say is, I got in at the back one:

dedication of the Dublin edition of Tacitus to the lord Carteret, and by that of Terence to his son, to whom she likewise wrote a Greek epigram. Lord Carteret obtained a patent for Mr. George Grierson, her husband, to be king's printer in Ireland; and, to distinguish and reward her extraordinary merit, had her life inserted in it. See the preface to Mrs. Barber's poems.

* Mrs. Van Lewen (Mrs. Pilkington's mother), who used to argue with Dr. Swift, about his declamation against eating blood.

If the end be obtain'd 'tis equal what portal
I enter, since I'm to be render'd immortal :
So clysters applied to the anus, 'tis said,

By skilful physicians, give ease to the headThough my title be spurious, why should I be dastard,

A man is a man, though he should be a bastard.
Why sure 'tis some comfort that heroes should slay us,
If I fall, I would fall by the hand of Æneas;
And who, by the Drapier would not rather damn'd be,
Than demigoddized by madrigal Namby*.

A man is no more, who has once lost his breath;
But poets convince us there's life after death.
They call from their graves the king or the peasant,
React our old deeds, and make what's past present;
And when they would study to set forth a like,
So the lines be well drawn, and the colours but strike,
Whatever the subject be, coward or hero,

A tyrant or patriot, a Titus or Nero,

To a judge 'tis all one which he fixes his eye on,
And a well-painted monkey's as good as a lion.
The scriptures affirm (as I heard in my youth,
For indeed I ne'er read them, to speak for once truth,)
That death is the wages of sin, but the just
Shall die not, although they be laid in the dust.
They say so, so be it, I care not a straw,
Although I be dead both in Gospel and law;

In verse I shall live, and be read in each climate;
What more can be said of prime sergeant or primate?
While Carter and Prendergast both may
And damn'd to the bargain, and yet be forgotten.

be rotten,

Ambrose Philips.

A COPY

VERSES

ON TWO CELEBRATED MODERN POETS.

BEHOLD, those monarch oaks, that rise,

With lofty branches to the skies,

Have large proportion'd roots that grow
With equal longitude below:

Two bards, that now in fashion reign,
Most aptly this device explain :

If this to clouds and stars will venture,
That creeps as far to reach the centre;
Or, more to show the thing I mean,
Have you not o'er a sawpit seen,
A skill'd mechanick, that has stood
High on a length of prostrate wood,
Who hired a subterraneous friend,
To take his iron by the end;
But which excell'd was never found,
The man above, or under ground.
The moral is so plain to hit,

That, had I been the god of wit,
Then, in a sawpit and wet weather,

Should Young and Philips drudge together*.

* This is to be understood as a censure only of the poetical character of those gentlemen. As men, the dean esteemed them both; and on Philips in particular conferred many signal acts of friendship.