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And resolv'd to break their pates,
Ere we enter'd at the gates ;
Had not Clio in the nick
Whisper'd me, “ Lay down your stick."
What, said I, is this the madhouse?
These, she answer'd, are but shadows,
Phantoms bodiless and vain,
Empty visions of the brain.

In the porch Briareus stands,
Shows a bribe in all his hands :
Briareus the secretary,
But we mortals call him Carey.
When the rogues their country fleece,
They may hope for pence apiece.

Clio, who had been so wise
To put on a fool's disguise,
To bespeak some approbation,
And be thought a near relation,
When she saw three hundred brutes
All involv'd in wild disputes,
Roaring till their lungs were spent,
Now a new misfortune feels,
Dreading to be laid by th' heels.
Never durst a Muse before
Enter that infernal door;
Clio, stified with the smell,
Into spleen and vapours fell,
By the Stygian steams that flew
From the dire infectious crew.
Not the stench of Lake Avernus
Could have more offended her nose;
Had she flown but o'er the top,
She had felt her pinions drop,
And by exhalations dire,
Though a goddess, must expire.
In fright she crept away;
Bravely I resolu'd to stay.

When I saw the keeper frown,
Tipping him with half a crown,
Now, said I, we are alone,
Name your heroes one by one.

Who is that hell-featur'd brawler?
Is it Satan? No; 'tis Waller.
In what figure can a bard dress
Jack the grandson of sir Hardress?
Honest keeper, drive him further,
In his looks are Hell and murder;
See the scowling visage drop,
Just as when he murder'd T-p.
Keeper, show me where to fix
On the puppy pair of Dicks:
By their lantern jaws and leathern,
You might swear they both are brethren:
Dick Fitzbaker, Dick the player,
Old acquaintance, are you there?
Dear companions, bug and kiss,
Toast Old Glorious in your piss;
Tie them, keeper, in a tether,
Let them starve and stink together;
Both are apt to be unruly,
Lash them daily, lash them duly;
Though 'tis hopeless to reclaim them,
Scorpion rods perhaps may tame them,

Keeper, yon old dotard smoke,
Sweetly snoring in his cloke :
Who is he? "T'is humdrum Wynne,
Half encompass'd by his kin :
There observe the tribe of Bingham,
For he never fails to bring 'em;
While he sleeps the whole debate,
They submissive round him wait;
Yet would gladly see the hunks,
In his grave, and search his trunks.
See, they gently twitch his coat,
Just to yawn and give his vote,


Always firm in his vocation,
For the court, against the nation.

Those are A-s Jack and Bob,
First in every wicked job,
Son and brother to a queer
Brainsick brute, they call a peer.
We must give them better quarter,
For their ancestor trod mortar,
And at Hoath, to boast his fame,
On a chimney cut his name.

There sit Clements, D-ks, and Harrison;
How they swagger from their garrison !
Such a triplet could


tell I here to find on this side Hell ? 'Harrison, and D-ks, and Clements, Keeper, see, they have their payments, Every mischief's in their hearts; If they fail, 'tis want of parts.

Bless us, Morgan, art thou there, mani Bless mine eyes! art thou the chairman! Chairman to your damn'd committee! Yet I look on thee with pity. Dreadful sight! what, learned Morgan Metamorphos'd to a Gorgon? For thy horrid looks, I own, Half convert me to a stone. Hast thou been so long at school, Now to turn a factious tool? Alma Mater was thy mother, Every young divine thy brother. Thou, a disobedient varlet, Treat thy mother like a harlot! Thou ungrateful to thy teachers, Who are all grown reverend preachers! Morgan, would it not surprise one! Turn thy nourishment to poison! When you walk among your books,

They reproach you with their looks ; VOL. XI.


Bind them fast, or from their shelves
They will come and right themselves :
Homer, Plutarch, Virgil, Flaccus,
All in arms, prepare to back us :
Soon repent, or put to slaughter
Every Greek and Roman author.
Will you, in your faction's phrase,
Send the clergy all to graze;
And, to make your project pass,
Leave them not a blade of grass ?

How I want thee, humorous Hogarth!
Thou, I hear, a pleasant rogue art.
Were but you and I acquainted,
Every monster should be painted :
You should try your graving tools
On this odious groupe of fools;
Draw the beasts as I describe them
From their features, while I gibe them;
Draw them like; for I assure you,
You will need no car'catura;
Draw them so, that we may trace
All the soul in every

Keeper, I must now retire,
You have done what I desire :
But I feel my spirits spent
With the noise, the sight, the scent.
“ Pray be patient; you shall find
Half the best are still behind !
You have hardly seen a score;
I can show two hundred more."
Keeper, I have seen enough.
Taking then a pinch of snuff,
I concluded, looking round them,

May their god, the devil, confound them *!"

Whilst Swift was writing these satires on the Irish parliament, he was seized with one of those fits, the effect of which was so dreadful, that he left the poem unfinished; and, after that ON A PRINTER'S * BEING SENT TO

Better we all were in our graves,
Than live in slavery to slaves;
Worse than the anarchy at sea,
Where fishes on each other prey;
Where every trout can make as high rants
O'er his inferiours, as our tyrants ;
And swagger while the coast is clear :
But, should a lordly pike appear,
Away you see the varlet scud,
Or hide his coward snout in mud.
Thus, if a gudgeon meet a roach,
He dare not venture to approach ;
Yet still has impudence to rise,
And, like Domitian, leap at flies.

period, very rarely attempted a composition, either in verse or prose, that required a course of thinking, or perhaps more than one or two sittings to finish. One of these was 6. The Beasts' Con. fession.” From this time his memory was perceived gradually to decline;

and his melancholy increased by the strength of his ima. gination brooding over the unhappy scene of misery which he foresaw was his lot, when he must become, as he said, a perfect slabberer. He was often heard to offer up his prayers to Ala mighty God,“ to take him away from this evil to come.” The prospect of this calamity, which he was daily lamenting, contributed very much, as his passions were violent, to pervert his understanding, to which many other particulars seem also to have concurred. D. S.

Mr. Fayikner. F.

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