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The dullest beast, and eggs unsound,
Without it I rather would walk on the ground,
The dullest beast and what covers a house,
Without it a writer is not worth a louse.
The dullest beast, and scandalous vermin,
Of roast or boild, to the hungry is charming.
The dullest beast, and what's cover'd with crust,
There's nobody but a fool that would trust,
The dullest beast mending highways,
Is to a horse an evil disease.
The dullest beast and a hole in the ground,
Will dress a dinner worth five pound.
The dullest beast, and what doctors pretend,
The cookmaid often has by the end.
The dullest beast and fish for lent,
May give you a blow you'll for ever repent.
The dullest beast, and a shameful jeer,
Without it a lady should never appear.

Wednesday night. I writ all these before I went to bed. Pray explain them for me, because I cannot do it,

EPIGRAM,

ON THE BUSTS * IN RICNMOND HERMITAGE.

1732.

“ Sic siti lætantur docti."

With honour thus by Carolina plac'd,
How are these venerable bustoes grac'd !
O queen, with more than regal title crown'd,
For love of arts and piety renown'd!
How do the friends of virtue joy to see
Her darling sons exalted thus by thee !
Nought to their fame can now be added more,
Rever'd by her whom all mankind adore.

ANOTHER.

Lewis the living learned fed,
And rais'd the scientifick head:
Our frugal queen, to save her meat,
Exalts the heads that cannot eat.

A CONCLUSION DRAWN FROM THE ABOVE BPI

GRAMS, AND SENT TO THE DRAPIER. SINCE Anna, whose bounty thy merits bad fed, Ere her own was laid low, had exalted thy head; And since our good queen to the wise is so just, To raise heads for such as are humbled in dust, I wonder, good man, that you are not envaulted; Prithee go, and be dead, and be doubly exalted.

* Newton, Locke, Clarke, and Woolaston. H.

DR. SWIFT's ANSWER.

Her majesty never shall be my exalter ; And yet she would raise me, I know, by a halter i

TO THE REVEREND DR. SWIFT.

WITH A PRESENT OF A PAPER BOOK FINELY BOUND,

ON HIS BIRTH-DAY, Nov. 30, 1732 *.

BY JOHN EARL OF ORRERY.

To thee, dear Swift, these spotless leaves I send;
Sinall is the present, but sincere the friend.
Think not so poor a book below thy care;
Who knows the price that thou canst make it bear)
Though tawdry now, and, like Tyrilla's face,
The specious front shines out with borrow'd grace;
Though pasteboards, glittering like a tinsell'd coat,
A rasa tabula within denote :
Yet, if a venal and corrupted age,
And niodern vices, should provoke thy rage;
If, warn'd once more by their impending fate,
A sinking country and an injur'd state
Thy great assistance should again demand,
And call forth reason to defend the land;

* It was occasioned by an annual custom, which I found pur. sued among his friends, of making him a present on his birth day. ORRERY:

Then shall we view these sheets with glad surprise
Inspir’d with thought, and speaking to our eyes:
Each vacant space, shall then, enrich'd, dispense
True force of eloquence, and nervous sense ;
Inform the judginent, animate the heart,
And sacred rules of policy impart.
The spangled covering, bright with splendid ore,
Shall cheat the sight with empty show na more:
But lead us inward to those golden mines,
Where all thy soul in native lustre shines.
So when the eye surveys some lovely fair,
With bloom of beauty grac’d, with shape and air;
How is the rapture heighten'd, when we find
Her form excell'd by her celestial mind!

VERSES LEFT WITH A SILVER STANDISH

ON THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S DESK, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY.

BY DR.DELANY.

Hither from Mexico I came,
To serve a proud Iernian dame :
Was long submitted to her will ;
At length she lost me at quadrille.
Through various shapes I often pass'd,
Still hoping to have rest at last;
And still ambitious to obtain
Admittance to the patriot Dean;
And sometimes got within his door,
But soon turn'd out to serve the poor * ;

* Alluding to five hundred pounds lent by the Dean, without interest, to poor tradesmen. F,

Not strolling Idleness to aid,
But honest Industry decay'd.
At length an artist purchas'd me,
And wrought me to the shape you see.

This done, to Hermes I apply'd:
« O Hermes! gratify my pride;
Be it my fate to serve a sage,
The greatest genius of his age;
That matchless pen let me supply,
Whose living lines will never die !"

“ I grant your suit;" the God replied, And here he left me to reside.

VERSES

OCCASIONED BY THE FOREGOING PRESENTS,

A

PAFFR BOOK is sent by Boyle,
Too neatly gilt for me to soil.
Delany sends a silver standish,
When I no more a pen can brandish,
Let both around my tomb be plac'd :
As trophies of a Muse deceas’d :
And let the friendly lines they writ,
In praise of long-departed wit,
Be grav'd on either side in columns,
More to my praise than all my volumes,
To burst with envy, spite, and rage,
The Vandals of the present age.

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