*

"Though by the female fide you proudly bring,
"To mend your breed, the murderer of a king:
"What was thy grandfire + but a mountaineer,

"Who held a cabbin for ten groats a year;

"Whose master Moore ‡ preserv'd him from the halter, "For ftealing cows; nor could he read the Pfalter! "Durst thou, ungrateful, from the fenate chace "Thy founder's grandfon §, and ufurp his place ? "Juft heaven! to fee the dunghill bastard brood « Survive in thee, and make the proverb good || ! "Then vote a worthy citizen ** to jail,

"In spite of justice, and refuse his bail.!”

*Cadogan's family. IRISH ED.

+ A poor thieving cottager under Mr. Moore, condemned at Clonmell affizes to be hanged for stealing

Cows.

Ibid.

The grandfather of Guy Moore, efq; who procured him a pardon. Ibid.

§ Guy Moore was fairly elected member of parJiament for Clonme, but Sir Thomas, depending upon his intereft with a certain party then prevailing, and fince known by the title of Parfon-hunters, petitioned the house against him; out of which he was turned upon pretence of bribery, which the paying of his lawful debts was then voted to be. Ibid.

"Save a thief from the gallows, and he will cut throat." Ibid:

your

** Mr. George Faulkner. See the verfes in the following page. N.

On

On a PRINTER'S being fent to NEWGATE.

B

ETTER we all were in our graves
Than live in flavery to flaves,

Worfe than the anarchy at fea,

Where fishes on each other prey;

Where every trout can make as high rants

O'er his inferiors as our tyrants;
And fwagger while the coaft is clear:
But, fhould a lordly pike appear,
Away you fee the varlet fcud,
Or hide his coward fnout in mud.
Thus, if a gudgeon meet a roach,
He dare not venture to approach;
Yet ftill has impudence to rife,
And, like Domitian, leap at flies.

THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT*,

ITH a whirl of thought opprefs'd,

WITH

I funk from reverie to reft.

An horrid vifion feiz'd my head,

I faw the graves give up their dead!

Jove, arm'd with terrors, burfts the skies,
And thunder roars, and lightning flies!
Amaz'd, confus'd, its fate unknown,

The world ftands trembling at his throne!

That this poem is the genuine production of the Dean, Lord Chesterfield bears ample teftimony in his Letter to M. Voltaire, Aug. 27, 1752. N.

While each pale finner hung his head,

Jove, nodding, fhook the heavens, and said :
Offending race of human-kind,

*

"By nature, reason, learning, blind;

"You who, through frailty, ftepp'd afide;
"And you who never fell, through pride;
"You who in different fects were shamm'd,
"And come to fee each other damn'd
"(So fome folk told you, but they knew
"No more of Jove's defigns than you);
"The world's mad business now is o'er,
"And I refent thefe pranks no more.
“I to fuch blockheads fet my wit!
"I damn fuch fools!-Go, go, you 're bit."

VERSES SENT TO THE DEAN

ON HIS BIRTH-D A Y,

WITH PINE'S HORACE, FINELY BOUND.

BY DR. J. SICAN*.

[Horace fpeaking]

OU'VE read, Sir, in poetic ftrain,

Yo

How Varus and the Mantuan fwain

Have on my birth-day been invited

(But I was forc'd in verfe to write it)

*This ingenious young gentleman was unfortunately

murdered in Italy. N.

Upon

Upon a plain repaft to dine,

And taste my old Campanian wine;

But I, who all punctilios hate,
Though long familiar with the great,
Nor glory in my reputation,

Am come without an invitation;

St. Johns

And, though I'm us'd to right Falernian,
I'll deign for once to tafte Iernian;
But fearing that you might difpute
(Had I put on my common fuit)
My breeding and my politesse,
I vifit in a birth-day drefs;
My coat of purest Turkey red,
With gold embroidery richly spread;
To which I 've fure as good pretenfions
As Irish lords who ftarve on penfions.
What though proud minifters of state
Did at your anti-chamber wait;
What though your Oxfords and your
Have at your levee paid attendance;
And Peterborough and great Ormond,
With many chiefs who now are dormant,
Have laid afide the general's staff
And public cares, with you to laugh;
Yet I fome friends as good can name,
Nor lefs the darling fons of Fame;
For fure my Pollio and Mæcenas
Were as good statesmen, Mr. Dean, as
Either your Bolingbroke or Harley,
Though they made Lewis beg a parley;
Z 3

And