Drown your morals, Madam cries, I'll have none but forward eyes; Strain their necks with looking back; I'll have youth and beauty still. DRAPIE R'S-H I L L*. Written in the year 1729. WE give the world to understand, Our thriving Dean has purchas'd land; A purchase which will bring him clear 20 25 36 10 • The Dean gave this name to a farm call'd Drumlack, which he took of Sir Arthur Achefon, whofe feat lay between that and Market-hill and intended to build an houfe upon it, but afterwards changed his mind. Hawkef Sir Arthur Achefon, from whom the purchase was made. His medals and his prints forgotten, And DRAPIER'S vie with COOPER'S hill. 15 20 THE GRAND QUESTION debated: Whether HAMILTON'S BAWN † fhould be turned into a BARRACK or a MALTHOUSE? Written in the year 1729. The Preface to the English Edition. TH HE author of the following poem is Jaid to be Dr J. S. D. S. P. D. who writ it, as well as feveral other copies of verfes of the like kind, by way of amufement, in the family of an honourable gentlemen in the north of Ireland, where he spent a fummer about two or three years ago.. A certain very great perfont, then in that kingdom, having heard much of this poem, obtained a copy from the gentleman, or, as fome fay, the Lady, in whofe boufe it was written; from whence, I know not by what accident, feveral other copies were tranfcribed, full of errors. As I have a great respect for the fup-pofed author, I have procured a true copy of the poem; the publication whereof can do him less injury than printing any of thofe incorrect ones which ran about in manufcript, and would infallibly be foon in the prefs. if not thus prevented.. Medals were caft, many figns hung up, and handkerchiefs made with devices, in honour of the author, under the name of M. B. Drapier. † A bawn was a place near the house, inclofed with mud or ftone walls to keep the cattle from being ftoln in the night. They are now little used, † John Lord Carteret, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, after~ wards Earl of Granville in right of his mother. Some expreffions being peculiar to Ireland, I bave prevailed on a gentleman of that kingdom to explain them, and I have put the feveral explanations in their proper. places. TH HUS spoke to my Lady the Knight* full of care, Let me have your advice in a weighty affair. This Hamilton's Bawn †, whilft it sticks on my hand, I lose by the house what I get by the land; But how to difpofe of it to the best bidder, For a barrack or malthoufe, we now muft confider. FIRST, let me fuppose I make it a malthouse,. Here I have computed the profit will fall t'us ; There's nine hundred pounds for labour and grain, I increase it to twelve, fo three hundred remain; A handfome addition for wine and good cheer, Three difhes a-day, and three hogsheads a-year: With a dozen large veffels my vault fhall be ftor'd; No little fcrub joint fhall come on my board: And you and the Dean no more fhall combine To flint me at night to one bottle of wine: 10 15 Nor fhall I, for his humour, permit you to purloin. Whatever they give me. I must be content, Or join with the court in ev'ry debate; 26. THUS ended the Knight: thus began his meek wife; It must, and it shall be a barrack, my life. I'm grown a mere mopus; no company comes, But a rabble of tenants, and rufty dull rum ||.. • Sir Arthur Achefón, at whofe feat it was written. A large old houfe, two miles from Sir Arthur Achefon's feat. The army in Ireland is lodged in ftrong buildings over the whole kingdom, called barracks. Acant word in Ireland for a poor country-clergyman. 30 With parfons what lady can keep herself clean ? THUS argu'd my Lady, but argu'd in vain; 35 40 45 BUT Hannah †, who liften'd to all that was paft, And could not endure fo vulgar a taste, As foon as her Ladyship call'd to be drefs'd, Cry'd, Madam, why surely my master's poffefs'd, Sir Arthur the maltfter! how fine it will found! I'd rather the Bawn were funk under ground. But, Madam, I guefs'd there would never come good, When I faw him so often with Darby and Woodt. And now my dream's out; for I was a-dream'd That I faw a huge rat; O dear, how I fcream'd! 50 And after, methought, I had loft my new shoes; And Molly, the faid, I should hear fome ill news. DEAR Madam, had you but the spirit to teafe, You might have a barrack whenever you please : And, Madam, I always believ'd you so stout, That for twenty denials you would not give out. If I had a husband like him, I purteft, 55 Till he gave me my will, I would give him no rest ; My Lady's waiting-woman. DEAR Madam, whene'er of a barrack I think, 65 At Hamilton's Bawn, and the troop is arriv'd; Now fee when they meet how their honours be 71 have: Noble Captain, your fervant-Sir Arthur, your flave; You honour me much the honour is mine, 'Twas a fad rainy night-but the morning is finePray how does my Lady?my wife's at your fer vice.. I think I have feen her picture by Jervis. 75 Good morrow, good Captain, I'll wait on you down 80 85 You sha'n't ftir a foot-you'll think me a clown— 90 |