To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour misplac'd,
To send such good verses to one of your taste e;
You've got an odd something-a kind of discerning-
A relish a taste-sicken'd over by learning;
At least, it's your temper, as very well known,
That you think very slightly of all that's your own.
So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amiss,
You may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.

THE GRAND QUESTION DEBATED,

Whether Hamilton's Bawn should be turned into a Bar rack or a Malthouse?

[SWIFT.]

THUS spoke to my lady the knight, full of care:
'Let me have your advice in a weighty affair.
This Hamilton's Bawn, whilst it sticks on my hand,
I lose by the house what I get by the land;

But how to dispose of it to the best bidder,

2

For a barrack or malthouse we now must consider.

First, let me suppose 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, so three hundred remain ;
A handsome addition for wine and good cheer,
Three dishes a day, and three hogsheads a year.
With a dozen large vessels my vault shall be stor❜d,
No little scrub-joint shall come on my board;
And you and the Dean no more shall combine
To stint me at night to one bottle of wine;
Nor shall I, for his humour, permit you to purloin
A stone and a quarter of beef from my sirloin.
If I make it a barrack, the crown is my tenant;
My dear! I have ponder'd again and again on't;
In poundage and drawbacks I lose half my rent;
Whatever they give me I must be content,
Or join with the court in ev'ry debate,

And rather than that I would lose my estate.'

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 rusty dull rums.*
With parsons what lady can keep herself clean?
I'm all over daub'd when I sit by the Dean.
But if you will give us a barrack, my dear!
The Captain, I'm sure, will always come here:

A cant word in Ireland for a poor country clergyman.

I then shall not value his deanship a straw,

For the captain, I warrant, will keep him in awe :
Or should he pretend to be brisk and alert,

Will tell him that chaplains should not be so pert;
That men of his coat should be minding their pray'rs,
And not among ladies to give themselves airs.'

Thus argu'd my lady, but argu'd in vain ; The knight his opinion resolv'd to maintain.

But Hannah, who listen'd to all that was past, And could not endure so vulgar a taste, As soon as her ladyship call'd to be dress'd, Cry'd, Madam, why surely my master's possess'd! Sir Arthur the maltster! how fine it will sound! I'd rather the Bawn were sunk under ground. But, madam, I guess'd there would never come good, When I saw him so often with Darby and Wood. And now my dream's out; for I was a-dream'd That I saw a huge rat; O dear! how I scream'd; And after, methought, I had lost my new shoes'; And Molly she said I should hear some ill news.

Dear madam! had you but the spirit to tease, 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 purtest,

Till he gave me my will I would give him no rest;
And rather than come in the same pair of sheets
With such a cross man, I would lie in the streets.
But, madam, I beg you contrive and invent,
And worry him out till he gives his consent.

‹ Dear madam, whene'er of a barrack I think,
An' I were to be hang'd I can't sleep a wink;
For if a new crotchet comes into my brain,
I can't get it out, tho' I'd never so fain.
I fancy already a barrack contriv'd

At Hamilton's Bawn, and the troop is arriv'd:
Of this, to be sure, Sir Arthur has warning,
And waits on the captain betimes the next morning.

'Now see when they meet how their honours behave : Noble captain! your servant-Sir Arthur! your slave. You honour me much-The honour is mine

'Twas a sad rainy night-but the morning is finePray how does my lady?—My wife's at your service— I think I have seen her picture by Jarvis―

Good-morrow, good captain!-I'll wait on you downYou sha'n't stir a foot-You'll think me a clown

For all the world, captain, not half an inch further-
You must be obey'd; Your servant, Sir Arthur;
My humble respects to my lady unknown--
I hope you will use my house as your own.'

Go bring me my smock, and leave off your prate; Thou hast certainly gotten a cup in thy pate.' Pray, madam, be quiet; what was it I said?— You had like to have put it quite out of my head.'

Next day, to be sure, the captain will come
At the head of his troop, with trumpet and drum.
Now, madam, observe how he marches in state;
The man with the kettle-drum enters the gate :
Dub, dub, a-dub, dub. The trumpeters follow;
Tantara, tantara; while all the boys holla.

See now comes the captain all daub'd with gold lace:
O law! the sweet gentleman! look in his face;
And see how he rides like a lord of the land,

With the fine flaming sword that he holds in his hand;
And his horse, the dear creter! it prances and rears
With ribands in knots at its tail and its ears.

At last comes the troop, by the word of command, Drawn up in our court, when the captain cries, stand! Your ladyship lifts up the sash to be seen,

(For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen,)