But I, who all punctilios hate, Am come without an invitation; What though your Oxfords and your St. Johns, I own indeed I can't get any And Galen bless'd another clime. You'll plead perhaps, at my request, "Your hearing's bad!"-But why such fears? Defies the Vandals of this age. 'Tis yours to save these small remains From future pedant's muddy brains, And fix my long uncertain fate, You best know how-"which way?"-TRANSLATE. EPIGRAM BY MR. BOWYER. INTENDED TO BE PLACED UNDER THE HEAD OF GULLIVER, 1733. HERE learn, from moral truth and wit refin'd, How vice and folly have debas'd 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." 'ON PSYCHE *. Ar two afternoon for our Psyche inquire, Which has she most need of, a spur or a bridle? She gives you such plenty, it puts you in pain; To oblige a good friend, she will trace every market, It would do your heart good, to see how she will cark it. Yet beware of her arts; for, it plainly appears, THE DEAN AND DUKE. 1734. JAMES * Mrs. Sican, a very ingenious lady, mother to the author of the poem in p. 320. F. † James Brydges was created duke of Chandos, April 30, 1719. N. Yet, since just Heaven the duke's ambition mocks, O! wert thou not a duke, my good duke Humphry, From bailiff's claws thou scarce could'st keep thy bum free. * A duke to know a dean! go, smooth thy crown': WRITTEN BY DR. SWIFT, ON HIS OWN DEAFNESS †, IN SEPTEMBER 1734. VERTIGINOSUS, inops, surdus, male gratus amicis; Non campana sonans, tonitru non ab Jove missum, Quod mage mirandum, saltem si credere fas est, Non clamosa meas mulier jam percutit aures. N. The hon. Henry Brydges, archdeacon of Rochester. These lines were found on his table when his servant brought up his dinner. Mrs. Ridgeway, his housekeeper, requested a copy of them; and the Dean immediately gave her the paper. N. The second syllable Vertiginosus" is here made short by the Dean; perhaps the more expressive of the malady it describes, as "steteruntque come" in Virgil. W. B. THE DEAN'S COMPLAINT, TRANSLATED AND ANSWERED. DOCTOR. DEAF, giddy, helpless, left alone. ANSWER. Except, the first, the fault's your own. DOCTOR. To all my friends a burden grown. ANSWER. Because to few you will be shown. DOCTOR. No more I hear my church's bell, ANSWER. Then write and read, 'twill do as well. DOCTOR. At thunder now no more I start, ANSWER. Think then of thunder when you f—t. DOCTOR. Nay, what's incredible, alack! No more I hear a woman's clack. |