Who writes like Apollo has most of his spirit,
And therefore 'tis just I distinguish his merit;
Who makes it appear, by all he has writ,
His judgment alone can set bounds to his wit;
Like Virgil correct, with his own native ease,
But excels even Virgil in elegant praise:

Who admires the ancients, and knows 'tis their due, Yet writes in a manner entirely new;

Though none with more ease their depths can explore,

Yet whatever he wants he takes from my store;
Though I'm fond of his virtues, his pride I can see,
In scorning to borrow from any but me:

It is owing to this, that, like Cynthia, his lays
Enlighten the world by reflecting my rays.'

This said, the whole audience soon found out his drift:

The convention was summon'd in favour of SWIFT.

APOLLO'S EDICT.

OCCASIONED BY NEWS FROM PARNASSUS."

IRELAND is now our royal care,
We lately fix'd our viceroy there :
How near was she to be undone,
Till pious love inspired her son!
What cannot our vicegerent do,
As poet and as patriot too?

Let his success our subjects sway,
Our inspirations to obey,

And follow where he leads the way:
Then study to correct your taste;
Nor beaten paths be longer trac'd.
No simile shall be begun,
With rising or with setting sun;
And let the secret head of Nile
Be ever banish'd from your isle.
When wretched lovers live on air,
I beg you'll the chameleon spare;
And when you'd make a hero grander,
Forget he's like a salamander. *

No son of mine shall dare to say,
Aurora usher'd in the day,
Or ever name the milky-way.

You all agree, I make no doubt,
Elijah's mantle is worn out.

The bird of Jove shall toil no more
To teach the humble wren to soar.
Your tragic heroes shall not rant,
Nor shepherds use poetic cant.
Simplicity alone can grace

The manners of the rural race.
Theocritus and Philips be

Your guides to true simplicity.

When Damon's soul shall take its flight,

Though poets have the second-sight,
They shall not see a trail of light.
Nor shall the vapours upwards rise,
Nor a new star adorn the skies:
For who can hope to place one there,
As glorious as Belinda's hair?

* See the Verses to Lord Cutts.

Yet, if his name you'd eternize,
And must exalt him to the skies
Without a star this may be done :
So Tickell mourn'd his Addison.

;

If Anna's happy reign you praise,
Pray, not a word of halcyon days:
Nor let my votaries show their skill
In aping lines from Cooper's Hill;
For know I cannot bear to hear
The mimicry of deep, yet clear.
Whene'er my viceroy is address'd,
Against the phoenix I protest.
When poets soar in youthful strains,
No Phaeton to hold the reins.

When you describe a lovely girl,
No lips of coral, teeth of pearl,
Cupid shall ne'er mistake another,
However beauteous, for his mother;
Nor shall his darts at random fly
From magazine in Celia's eye.
With woman compounds I am cloy'd,
Which only pleas'd in Biddy Floyd.
For foreign aid what need they roam,
Whom fate has amply blest at home?
Unerring Heaven, with bounteous hand,
Has form'd a model for your land,
Whom Jove endow'd with every grace;
The glory of the Granard race;

Now destin'd by the powers divine

The blessing of another line.

Then, would you paint a matchless dame, Whom you'd consign to endless fame? Invoke not Cytherea's aid,

Nor borrow from the blue-ey'd maid;

Nor need you on the Graces call;
Take qualities from Donegal. *

THE DESCRIPTION OF AN IRISH FEAST.

TRANSLATED ALMOST LITERALLY OUT OF THE
ORIGINAL IRISH.

1720.

[O'Rourke, a powerful chieftain of Ulster in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was induced to make a visit to the court of that sovereign; and, in order to take leave of his neighbours with becoming splendour, he assembled them in the great hall of his castle, which was situated in the county of Leitrim, and still exists as a ruin. He entertained his numerous guests with such a profusion of the rude hospitality of the period, that the memory of his feast long survived in tradition; the longer perhaps on account of the tragical fate of O'Rourke himself, who was put to death in England. Hugh Mac Guaran, Esq. of Leitrim, a contemporary of the celebrated Carolan, composed, upon this traditionary foundation, the celebrated song of Plearaca na Ruarcah. The fame of the ditty having reached Dean Swift, he was supplied, at his own request, with a literal version, from which he executed the following very spirited translation. It was afterwards translated by Mr Charles Wilson, who published Irish poems in 1782, from whose scarce and forgotten, though very curious collection, I have transferred the original Irish words, for the benefit of the curious in Hibernian antiquities.]

*Lady Catharine Forbes, daughter of the first Earl of Granard, and second wife of Arthur third Earl of Donegal.

O'ROURKE's noble fare
Will ne'er be forgöt,
By those who were there,
Or those who were not.

His revels to keep,
We sup and we dine
On seven score sheep,
Fat bullocks, and swine.

Usquebaugh to our feast
In pails was brought up,
An hundred at least,

And a madder our cup.

O there is the sport!
We rise with the light

In disorderly sort,

From snoring all night.

PLEARACA NA RUARCACH.

Plearaca na Ruarcach

Accuimhne an uile dhuine,
Da ttiucaidh da bhaicfeadh
S'da ccluinfeadh go foìll.

Seacht bhfithchead muc,
Mart agus càora,

Da ccasgairt don ghasraidh,
Gach àon, lò,

Na ceada pàl uisge-beatha,
'Sna meadra dha liònadh,

Ag èirghe air maidin,

Is againn a bhi an spòirt.

Do briseadh mo phiopasa,
Sladamh mo phòcasa,
Guideath mho bhrisdesi,
Loisgeadh mo chlòcasa.

* A wooden vessel.-F.