Volume Ii Part 40 (1/2)

But, O Humphry, great and free, While my tuneful songs are read, Old forgetful Time on thee Dark oblivion ne'er shall spread.

When the deep cut notes shall fade On the mouldering Parian stone, On the bra.s.s no more be read The peris.h.i.+ng inscription; Forgotten all the enemies, Envious G----n's cursed spite, And P----l's derogating lies, Lost and sunk in Stygian night; Still thy labour and thy care, What for Dublin thou hast done, In full l.u.s.tre shall appear, And outs.h.i.+ne th' unclouded sun.

Large thy mind, and not untried, For Hibernia now doth stand, Through the calm, or raging tide, Safe conducts the s.h.i.+p to land.

Falsely we call the rich man great, He is only so that knows His plentiful or small estate Wisely to enjoy and use.

He in wealth or poverty, Fortune's power alike defies; And falsehood and dishonesty More than death abhors and flies: Flies from death!--no, meets it brave, When the suffering so severe May from dreadful bondage save Clients, friends, or country dear.

This the sovereign man, complete; Hero; patriot; glorious; free; Rich and wise; and good and great; Generous Humphry, thou art he.

[Footnote 1: Elected M. P. for Dublin, by the interest of Swift, in the name of the Drapier. See Advice to the Freemen of the City of Dublin, etc., ”Prose Works,” vii, 310.--_W. E. B._]

ON MR. PULTENEY'S[1] BEING PUT OUT OF THE COUNCIL. 1731

SIR ROBERT,[2] wearied by Will Pulteney's teasings, Who interrupted him in all his leasings, Resolved that Will and he should meet no more, Full in his face Bob shuts the council door; Nor lets him sit as justice on the bench, To punish thieves, or lash a suburb wench.

Yet still St. Stephen's chapel open lies For Will to enter--What shall I advise?

Ev'n quit the house, for thou too long hast sat in't, Produce at last thy dormant ducal patent; There near thy master's throne in shelter placed, Let Will, unheard by thee, his thunder waste; Yet still I fear your work is done but half, For while he keeps his pen you are not safe.

Hear an old fable, and a dull one too; It bears a moral when applied to you.

A hare had long escaped pursuing hounds, By often s.h.i.+fting into distant grounds; Till, finding all his artifices vain, To save his life he leap'd into the main.

But there, alas! he could no safety find, A pack of dogfish had him in the wind.

He scours away; and, to avoid the foe, Descends for shelter to the shades below: There Cerberus lay watching in his den, (He had not seen a hare the lord knows when.) Out bounced the mastiff of the triple head; Away the hare with double swiftness fled; Hunted from earth, and sea, and h.e.l.l, he flies (Fear lent him wings) for safety to the skies.

How was the fearful animal distrest!

Behold a foe more fierce than all the rest: Sirius, the swiftest of the heavenly pack, Fail'd but an inch to seize him by the back.

He fled to earth, but first it cost him dear; He left his scut behind, and half an ear.

Thus was the hare pursued, though free from guilt; Thus, Bob, shall thou be maul'd, fly where thou wilt.

Then, honest Robin, of thy corpse beware; Thou art not half so nimble as a hare: Too ponderous is thy bulk to mount the sky; Nor can you go to h.e.l.l before you die.

So keen thy hunters, and thy scent so strong, Thy turns and doublings cannot save thee long.[3]

[Footnote 1: Right Honourable William Pulteney, afterwards Earl of Bath.]

[Footnote 2: Sir Robert Walpole, at that time Prime Minister, afterwards first Earl of Orford.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 3: This hunting ended in the promotion of Will and Bob. Bob was no longer first minister, but Earl of Orford; and Will was no longer his opponent, but Earl of Bath.--_H_.]

ON THE WORDS BROTHER PROTESTANTS AND FELLOW CHRISTIANS, SO FAMILIARLY USED BY THE ADVOCATES FOR THE REPEAL OF THE TEST-ACT IN IRELAND 1733

AN inundation, says the fable, Overflow'd a farmer's barn and stable; Whole ricks of hay and stacks of corn Were down the sudden current borne; While things of heterogeneous kind Together float with tide and wind.

The generous wheat forgot its pride, And sail'd with litter side by side; Uniting all, to show their amity, As in a general calamity.

A ball of new-dropp'd horse's dung, Mingling with apples in the throng, Said to the pippin plump and prim, ”See, brother, how we apples swim.”

Thus Lamb, renown'd for cutting corns, An offer'd fee from Radcliff scorns, ”Not for the world--we doctors, brother, Must take no fees of one another.”

Thus to a dean some curate sloven Subscribes, ”Dear sir, your brother loving.”

Thus all the footmen, s...o...b..ys, porters, About St. James's, cry, ”We courtiers.”

Thus Horace in the house will prate, ”Sir, we, the ministers of state.”