Volume I Part 47 (1/2)

VIII. ON SEEING VERSES WRITTEN UPON WINDOWS AT INNS

The sage, who said he should be proud Of windows in his breast,[1]

Because he ne'er a thought allow'd That might not be confest; His window scrawl'd by every rake, His breast again would cover, And fairly bid the devil take The diamond and the lover.

[Footnote 1: See on this ”Notes and Queries,” 10th S., xii, 497.--_W. E. B._]

IX. ANOTHER

By Satan taught, all conjurors know Your mistress in a gla.s.s to show, And you can do as much: In this the devil and you agree; None e'er made verses worse than he, And thine, I swear, are such.

X. ANOTHER

That love is the devil, I'll prove when required; Those rhymers abundantly show it: They swear that they all by love are inspired, And the devil's a d.a.m.nable poet.

XI. ANOTHER, AT HOLYHEAD [1]

O Neptune! Neptune! must I still Be here detain'd against my will?

Is this your justice, when I'm come Above two hundred miles from home; O'er mountains steep, o'er dusty plains, Half choked with dust, half drown'd with rains, Only your G.o.ds.h.i.+p to implore, To let me kiss your other sh.o.r.e?

A boon so small! but I may weep, While you're like Baal, fast asleep.

[Footnote 1: These verses were no doubt written during the Dean's enforced stay at Holyhead while waiting for fair weather. See Swift's Journal of 1727, in Craik's ”Life of Swift,” vol. ii, and ”Prose Works,”

vol. xi.--_W. E. B_.]

TO Ja.n.u.s, ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1726

Two-faced Ja.n.u.s,[1] G.o.d of Time!

Be my Phoebus while I rhyme; To oblige your crony Swift, Bring our dame a new year's gift; She has got but half a face; Ja.n.u.s, since thou hast a brace, To my lady once be kind; Give her half thy face behind.

G.o.d of Time, if you be wise, Look not with your future eyes; What imports thy forward sight?

Well, if you could lose it quite.

Can you take delight in viewing This poor Isle's[2] approaching ruin, When thy retrospection vast Sees the glorious ages past?

Happy nation, were we blind, Or had only eyes behind!

Drown your morals, madam cries, I'll have none but forward eyes; Prudes decay'd about may tack, Strain their necks with looking back.

Give me time when coming on; Who regards him when he's gone?

By the Dean though gravely told, New-years help to make me old; Yet I find a new-year's lace Burnishes an old-year's face.

Give me velvet and quadrille, I'll have youth and beauty still.

[Footnote 1: ”Matutine pater, seu Jane libentius audis Unde homines operum primos vitaeque labores Inst.i.tuunt.”--HOR., _Sat_., ii, vi, 20.]

[Footnote 2: Ireland.--_H_.]