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It would be an exploit to brag on,
How valiant George rode o'er the Dragon,
How fteady in the ftorm he fat,

And fav'd his oar, but loft his hat:
How Nim (no hunter e'er could match him)
Still brings us hares, when he can catch 'em:
How skilfully Dan mends his nets;
How fortune fails him when he fets.
Or how the dean delights to vex
The ladies, or lampoor the fex:
Or how our neighbour lifts his nofe
To tell what ev'ry school-boy knows;
Then with his finger on his thumb
Explaining ftrikes oppofers dumb:
Or how his wife, that female pedant,
(But now there need no more be faid on't)
Shews all her fecrets of house-keeping;
For candles how fhe trucks her dripping;
Was forc'd to fend three miles for yeast
To brew her ale, and raise her paste ;
Tells ev'ry thing that you can think of,
How the cur'd Tommy of the chin-cough;
What gave her brats and pigs the measles,
And how her doves were kill'd by weafels;
How Fowler howl'd, and what a fright
She had with dreams the other night.

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But now, fince I have gone fo far on,
A word or two of * lord chief-baron;
And tell how little weight he fets
On all whig papers, and gazettes;
But for the politicks of Pue, +
Thinks ev'ry fyllable is true.

And fince he owns the king of Sweden
Is dead at laft, without evading,
Now all his hopes are in the Czar :
Why, Mufcovy is not fo far;

"Down the black fea, and up the ftreights,
"And in a month he's at your gates;
"Perhaps, from what the packet brings,

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By Christmas we fhall fee ftrange things.' Why should I tell of ponds and drains, What carps we met with for our pains; Of fparrows tam'd, and nuts innumerable Tochoak the girls, and to confume a rabble? But you, who are a scholar, know How tranfient all things are below, How prone to change is human life! Laft night arriv'd Clem. ‡ and his wifeThis grand event hath broke our measures; Their reign began with cruel feizures :

*Mr. Rochfort's father.
+ Mr. Clement Barry, ·

A tory news-writer.

The

The dean must with his quilt fupply
The bed in which those tyrants lie;
Nim loft his wig-block, Dan his jordan,
(My lady fays fhe can't afford one ;)
George is half fear'd out of his wits,
For Clem. gets all the dainty bits.
Henceforth expect a diff'rent furvey,
This house will foon turn topsy-turvy:
They talk of further alterations,
Which caufes many speculations.

A

PASTORAL DIALOGUE.

Written in the Year 1728.

DERMOT, SHEELAH.

A Nymph and fwain, Sheelah and Der

mot hight,

Who wont to weed the court of Gosford

knight*,

While each with stubbed knife remov'd the

roots

That rais'd between the ftones their daily

fhoots;

*Sir Arthur Achefon, whofe great grandfather was Sir Archibald of Gosford in Scotland.

As at their work they fat in counterview, With mutual beauty fmit, their paffion grew. Sing, heavenly mufe! in fweetly-flowing ftrain

The foft endearments of the nymph and fwain.

DERMOT.

My love to Sheelab is more firmly fixt, Than strongest weeds that grow these stones betwixt :

My spud these nettles from the stones can part,

No knife fokeen to weed thee from my heart.

SHEELAH.

My love for gentle Dermot fafter grows, Than yon tall dock that rises to thy nose. Cut down the dock, 'twill sprout again;

but oh!

Love rooted out again will never grow.

DERMOT.

No more that brier thy tender legs fhall

rake;

(I spare the thistle for Sir Arthur's * fake.)

Who is a great lover of Scotland.

Sharp

Sharp are the stones; take thou this rushy matt;

The hardest bum will bruife with fitting fquat.

SHEELAH.

Thy breeches torn behind stand gaping wide;

This petticoat shall save thy dear backfide; Nor need I blush, although you feel it wet; Dermot, I vow, 'tis nothing else but sweat.

DERMOT.

At an old stubborn root I chanc'd to tug, When the dean threw me this tobacco plug: A longer ha'-p'orth never did I see; This, deareft Sheelah, thou fhalt share with me.

SHEELAH.

In at the pantry door this morn I flipt, And from the fhelf a charming cruft I whipt;

* Dennis was out, and I got hither fafe; And thou, my dear, fhalt have the bigger half.

*Sir Arthur's butler.

R 4

DERMOT.

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