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And over these fillets he wisely has thrown,
To keep out of danger, a doublet of stone *.

The loure of the wood for a med'cine is us'd,
Or swallow'd alive, or skilfully bruis’d.
And let but our mother Hibernia contrive
To swallow Will Wood either bruis’d or alive,
She need be no more with the jaundice poffeft, 15
Or fick of obstructions, and pains in her cheft.

The next is an insect we call a wood-worm, That lies in old wood like a hare in her form: With teeth or with claws it will bite or will scratch ; And chambermaids christen this worm a death-watch ; Because, like a watch, it always cries click: Then woe be to those in the house who are fick ; For, as fure as a gun, they will give up the ghoft, If the maggot cries click, when it scratches the post. But a kettle of scalding hot water injected 25 Infallibly cures the timber affected; The omen is broken, the danger is over; The maggot will die, and the fick will recover. Such a worm was Will Wood, when he scratch'd

at the door Of a governing itatesman or favourite whore: 30 The death of our nation he seem'd to foretel, And the sound of his brass we took for our knell. But now fince the Drapier hath heartily maul'd him, I think the best thing we can do is to scald him. For which operation there's nothing more proper 35 Than the liquor he deals in, his own melted copper : Unless like the Dutch, you rather would boil This coiner of rapst in a cauldron of oil.

* He was in jail for debt.
† A cant word in Ireland for a counterfeit halfpenny.

Then chuse which you please, and let each bring a

faggot, For out fear's at an end with the death of the maggot I.



A COUNTRY-House of Dr SHERIDAN, in no very

good repair, where the supposed author, and fome of his friends, spent a summer in the year 1725.


me thy

properties explain :
A rotten cabin, dropping rain;
Chimneys with fcorn rejeeting smoke ;
Stools, tables, chairs, and bedfteads broke.
Here elements have lost their uses,
Air ripens not, nor earth produces ;
In vain we make poor Sheelah || toil,
Fire will not roast, nor water boil.
Thro' all the valleys, hills, and plains,
The goddess Want in triumph reigns ;
And her chief officers of state,
Sloth, Dirt, and Theft, around her wait,

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See vol. iii. p. 143.
An Irish name.

HORACE, ode 14. book 1. paraphrased,

and infcribed to IRELAND.

Written in the year 1725-6.


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Paor floating ifle, tosid on ill fortune's waves,
Ordain'd by fate to be the land of Javes;
Shall moving Delos now deep-rooted fiand;
Thou, fix'd of old, be now the moving land ?
Altho' the metaphor be worn and ftale,
Betuixt a state, and vessel under fail ;
Let me suppose thee for a ship a while,

And thus address thee in the sailor's style.
1. UNhappy hip, thou art return’d in vain :

New waves (hall drive thee to the deep a

Look to thyself, and be no more the sport
2. Of giddy winds, but make some friendly port.
3. Loft are thy oars, that usd thy course to guide

Like faithful counsellors on either side.
4. Thy maft, which like some aged patriot stood

The fingle pillar for his country's good,
To lead thee, as a staff directs the blind,

Behold it cracks by yon rough eastern wind.

Your cables burst, and you must quickly feel
The waves impetuous enter at your keel.
1. O navis, referent in mare te novi


3. Nudum remigio latus.

Malus celeri faucius Africo.
5. 4c fine funibus

Vix durare carina
Poflint imperiofius

Æquor ?


Fortiter occupa

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Thus, commonwealths receive a foreign yoke,

When the strong cords of union once are broke. 6. Torn by a sudden tempest is thy fail, Expanded to invite a milder gale.

As when some writer in a public cause
His pen to save a finking nation draws,
While all is calm, his arguments prevail ;
The people's voice expands his paper fail;
Till pow'r discharging all her stormy bags,
Flutters the feeble pamphlet into rags.
The nation scar'd, the author doom'd to death,
Who fondly put his trust in pop'lar breath.

A larger facrifice in vain you vow;
There's not a pow'r above will help you now:
A nation thus, who oft heav'n's call neglects,

In vain from injur'd heav'n relief expects. 8. 'Twill not avail, when thy strong fides are

That thy descent is from the British oak;
Or, when your name and family you boast,
From fleets triumphant o'er the Gallic coast.
Such was lerne's claim, as just as thine,
Her sons descended from the British line;
Her matchless sons, whose valour still remains
On French records for twenty long campaigns:
Yet from an empress now a captive grown,

She sav'd Britannia's rights, and lost her own. 9. In hips decay'd no mariner confides,

Lur'd by the gilded ttern and painted fides ;
Yet at a ball unthinking fools delight
In the gay trappings of a birthday-night :

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6. Non tibi sunt integra lintea.
7. Non dii, quos iterum pressa voces malo.
8. Quamvis Pontica pinus,

Sylve filia nobilis.
9. Nil pičlis timidus navita puppibus


They on the bold brocades and fatins ravid,
And quite forgot their country was inslav'd.

Dear veffel, still be to thy fteerage just;
Nor change thy course with ev'ry sudden gust,
Like fupple patriots of the modern fort,
Who turn with ev'ry gale that blows from court.

WEAR Y and fea-sick when in thee confin'd,
Now for thy safety cares distract my

As those who long have stood the storms of state,
Retire, yet still bemoan their country's fate.
Beware, and when you hear the surges roar,
Avoid the rocks on Britain's angry

They lie, alas! too easy to be found;
For thee alone they lie the island round.


On reading Dr Young's satires called the UNIVERSAL Passion, by which he means Pride.

Written in the year 1926.
F there be truth in what

you ,
Such god-like virtues in the King ;
A minifter* fo fill'd with zeal
And wisdom for the common-weal:
If he + who in the chair presides,

5 So steadily the fenate guides :

} 10. Fidit; tu, nisi ventis

Debes ludibrium, cave.
ul. Nuper folitum quæ mihi tædium,

Nunc desiderium, curaque non levis,
Interfusa nitentes

Vites æquora Cycladas. Sir Robert Walpole He was prime minister of state to King George 1. and II. for above twenty years. He was made a Knight of the Bath in May 1725, and a Knight of the Garter in May 1720 ; was created Earl of Orford in February 1742, and died March 18. 1745.

+ Sir Spencer Compton, the Speaker of the house of Commons at that time. He was created Baron of Wilmington of Sussex January 11. 1727, and Earl of Wilmington, May 14. 1730. He died First Commissioner of the Treasury, July 2. 1743.

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