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Approach your grace with grateful heart,
My thanks and verse both void of art,
Content with what your bounty gave,
No larger income do I crave:
Rejoicing that, in better times,
Grafton requires my loyal lines.
Proud! while my patron is polite,
I likewise to the patriot write !
Proud! that at once I can commend
King George's and the Muses’ friend!
Endear'd to Britains and to thee
(Disjoin'd, Hibernia, hy the sea),
Endeard by. twice three anxious years,
Employ'd in guardian toils and cares ;
By love, by, wisdom, and by skill ;
For he has sav'd thee 'gainst thy will.

But where shall Smedley make his nest,
And lay his wandering head to rest ?
Where shall he find a decent house,
To treat his friends, and chear his {pouse?
Oh! tack, my lord, some pretty cure ;
In wholesome soil, and æther pure ;
The garden ftord with artless flowers,
In either angle fhady bowers.
No gay parterre, with costly green,
Within the ambient hedge be seen :
Let Nature freely take her course,
Nor fear from me ungrateful force ;
No fheers shall check her sprouting vigour,
Nor shape the yews to antic figure :

A lipid


A limpid brook shall trout supply,
In May, to take the mimic fly;
Round a small orchard may it run,
Whose apples redden to the sun.
Let all be fnug, and warm, and neat ;
For fifty turn’d a safe retreat.
A little Eufton may it be,
Euston I'll carve on every tree.
But then, to keep it in repair,
My lord--twice fifty pounds a year
Will barely do; but if your grace
Could make them hundreds---charming place !
Thou then wouldīt shew another face.

Clogher! far north, my lord, it lies,
Midst snowy hills, inclement skies;
One shivers with the Arctic wind,
One hears the polar axis grind.
Good John * indeed, with beef and claret,
Makes the place warm that one may bear it.
He has a purse to keep a table,
And eke a soul as hospitable.
My heart is good ; but affets fail,
To fight with storms of snow and hail.
Besides, the country's thin of people,
Who feldom meer but at the steeple :.
The strapping dean, that 's gone to Down,
Ne'er nam'd the thing witbout a frown,
When, much fatigued with sermon-study,
He felt his brain grow dull and muddy;

* Bp. Sterne.


No fit companion could be found,
To push the lazy bottle round ;
Sure then, for want of better folks
To pledge, bis clerk was orthodox.

Ah! how unlike to Gerard-Ntreet,
Where beaux and belles in parties meet;
Where gilded chairs and coaches throng,
And jolle as they trowl along;
Where tea and coffee hourly flow,
And gape-seed does in plenty grow;
And Griz (no clock more certain) vries,
Exact at seven, “ Hot mutton-pies !"
There lady Luna in her sphere
Once shone, when Paunceforth was not near ;.
But now she wanes, and, as. 'tis said,
Kceps sober hours, and goes to bed.
There-but 'tis endless to write down
All the amusements of the town;
And spouse will think herself quite undone,
To trudge to Connor * from sweet London;
And care we muit our wives to please,
Or else-we shall be ill at ease.

You see, my lord, what 'tis I lack,
'Tis only some convenient tack,
Some parsonage-house, with garden sweet,
To be my late, my last retreat ;
A decent church close by its side,
There, preaching, praying, to reside ;,

* The bishoprick of Connor is united to that of Down; but there are two deans.


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S 3

And, as my time securely rolls,
To save my own and other souls.




EAR Smed, I read thy brilliant lines,

Where wit in all its glory shines ;
Where compliments, with all their pride,
Are by their numbers dignified :
I hope, to make you yet as clean
As that same Viz, St. Patrick's dean.
I'll give thee surplice, verge, and stall,
And may be something else withal ;
And, were you not so good a writer,
I thould present you with a mitre.
Write worfe then, if you can—Be wife
Believe me, 'tis the way to rise.
Talk not of making of thy neft:
Ah! never lay thy bead to rest!
That bead fo well with wisdom frđught,
That writes without the toil of thought !
While others rack their busy brains,
You are not in the least at pains.
Down to your deanry now repair,
And build a caflle in the air.
I'm sure a man of your fine sense
Can do it with a fihall expence.
There your dear fpouse and you together
May breathe your bellies full of ether.


When lady Luna is your neighbour,
She 'll help your wife when she's in labour;
Well skill'd in midwife artifices,
For she herself oft falls in pieces.
There you shall see a raree-Show
Will make you scorn this world below,


behold the milky way,
As white as snow, as bright as day;
The glittering constellations roll
About the grinding Aretic pole;
The lovely tingling in your ears,
Wrought by the musick of the spheres---
Your spouse shall then no longer hector,
You need not fear a curtain-lecture ;
Nor Thall the think that she is undone
For quitting her beloved London,
When the 's exalted in the skies,
She 'll never think of mutton-pies ;
When you 're advanc'd above dean Viz,
You'll never think of goody Griz.
But ever, ever, live at ease,
And strive, and Atrive, your wife to please;
In her




your joys, And get ten thousand girls and boys : Ten thousand girls and boys you


And they like stars shall rise and set.
While you and Spouse, transform’d, shall soon
Be a new fun and a new moon:
Nor shall


to hide,
For then your horns shall be your pride.



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