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See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings, No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear
And heap'd with products of Sabean springs ! Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier :
For thee Idumé's spicy forests blow,

By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow. By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd ; See Heaven its sparkling portals wide display, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, And break upon thee in a flood of day!

By strangers honour'd, and by strar:gers mourn'd! No more the rising Sun shall gild the morn, What though no friends in sable weeds appear, Nor evening Cynthia file her silver horn;

Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays,

And bear about the mockery of woe One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze

To midnight dances, and the public show?
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine What though no weeping Loves thy ashes grace,
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine ! Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face?
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay, What though no sacred earth allow thee room,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away! Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb?
But fix'd his word, his saving power remains; Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dress'd,
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns! And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast :

There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,
There the first roses of the year shall blow;

While angels with their siiver wings o'ershade

The ground now sacred by thy reliques made.

So, peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, TO TAR MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY.

What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame. What beckoning ghost, along the moon-light shade, How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ? To whom related, or by whom begot; 'Tis she ! - but why that bleeding bosom gorid, A heap of dust alone remains of thee, Why dimly gleams the visionary sword ?

'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Oh, ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell,

Poets themselves must fall. like those they sung, Is it, in Heaven, a crime to love too well ? Deaf the prais'd car, and mute the tuneful tongue. To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,

Ev'n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays To act a lover's or a Roman's part?

Shall shortly want the generous tear he pays; Is there no bright reversion in the sky,

Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part, For those who greatly think, or bravely die? And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart;

Why bade ye else, ye powers ! her soul aspire Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, Above the vulgar flight of low desire ?

The Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!
Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes;
The glorious fault of angels and of gods :
Thence to their images on Earth it flows,
And in the breasts of kings and herves glows.

Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age,
Dull sullen prisoners in the body's cage :

The first Part (to verse 132.) imitated in the Yex Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years,

1714, by Dr. Swift; the latler Part added after

wards. Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres ; Like eastern kings a lazy state they keep,

I've often wish'd that I had clear And, close confin'd to their own palace, sleep. For life, six hundred pounds a year,

From these perhaps (ere Nature bade her die) A handsome house to lodge a friend, Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky.

A river at my garden's end, As into air the purer spirits flow,

A terrace-walk, and half a rood And separate from their kindred dregs below; Of land, set out to plant a wood. So flew the soul to its congenial place,

Well, now I have all this and more,
Nor left one virtue to redeem her race.

I ask not to increase my store;
But thou, false guardian of a charge too good, “ But here a grievance seems to lie,
Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood !

All this is mine but till I die;
See on these ruby lips the trembling breath,

I can't but think 'twould sound more clever These cheeks now fading at the blast of Death ; To me and to my heirs for ever. Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, “ If I ne'er got or lost a groat, And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. By any trick, or any fault; Thus, if eternal Justice rules the ball,

And if I pray by Reason's rules, Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall : And not like forty other fools: On all the line a sudden vengeance waits,

As thus, · Vouchsafe, oh gracious Maker! And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates ; To grant me this and t' other acre: There passengers shall stand, and pointing say, Or, if it be thy will and pleasure, (While the long funerals blacken all the way,) Direct my plow to find a treasure :" “ Lo! these were they, whose souls the Furies steel'd, But only what my station fits, And curst with hearts unknowing how to yield.” And to be kept in my right wits, Thus unlamented pass the proud away,

Preserve, Almighty Providence! The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day !

Just what you gave me, competena: So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow, And let me in these shades compose For others' good, or melt at others' woe.

Something in verse as true as prose; What can atone, oh, ever-injur'd shade!

Remov'd from all th' ambitious scene, Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unprid?

Nor puff'd by pride, nor sunk by spleen."

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In short, I'm perfectly content,

Where all that passes, inter nos, Let me but live on this side Trent;

Might be proclaim'd at Charing-Cross. Nor cross the Channel twice a year,

Yet some I know with envy swell, To spend six months with statesmen here.

Because they see me us'd so well : I must by all means come to town,

“ How think you of our friend the Dean? 'Tis for the service of the crown.

I wonder what some people mean; “ Lewis, the Dean will be of use,

My lord and he are grown so great, Send for him up, take no excuse."

Always together, tête--tête. The toil, the danger of the seas ;

What, they admire him for his jokes Great ministers ne'er think of these;

See but the fortune of some folks!" Or let it cost five hundred pound,

There flies about a strange report No matter where the money 's found.

Of some express arriv'd at court; It is but so much more in debt,

I'm stopt by all the fools I meet, And that they ne'er consider'd yet.

And catechis'd in every street. “ Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown,

“ You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great ; Let my lord know you're come to town.

Inform us, will the emp'ror treat ? I hurry me in haste away,

Or do the prints and papers lie?” Not thinking it is levee-day ;

Faith, Sir, you know as much as I. And find his honour in a pound,

“ Ah, doctor, how you love to jest ! Hemm’d by a triple circle round,

'Tis now no secret".

I protest Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green :

'Tis one to me — “ Then tell us, pray, How should I thrust myself between ?

When are the troops to have their pay ?" Some wag observes me thus perplext,

And, tho' I solemnly declare And smiling whispers to the next,

I know no more than my lord-mayor, I thought the Dean had been too proud,

They stand amaz’d, and think me grown To justle here among a crowd.”

The closest mortal ever known. Another, in a surly fit,

Thus in a sea of folly toss'd, Tells me I have more zeal than wit,

My choicest hours of life are lost ; “ So eager to express your love,

Yet always wishing to retreat, You ne'er consider whom you shove,

Oh, could I see my country seat ! But rudely press before a duke."

There, leaning near a gentle brook, Iown, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,

Sleep, or peruse some ancient book, And take it kindly meant to show

And there in sweet oblivion drown What I desire the world should know.

Those cares that haunt the court and town. I get a whisper, and withdraw :

O charming noons! and nights divine ! When twenty fools I never saw

Or when I sup, or when I dine, Come with petitions fairly penn'd,

My friends above, my folks below, Desiring I would stand their friend.

Chatting and laughing all-a-row, This, humbly offers me his case –

The beans and bacon set before 'em, That, begs my int’rest for a place

The grace-cup serv'd with all decorum : A hundred other men's affairs,

Each willing to be pleas'd, and please, Like bees, are humming in my ears.

And even the very dogs at ease ! “ To-morrow my appeal comes on,

Here no man prates of idle things, Without your help the cause is gone.'

How this or that Italian sings, The duke expects my lord and you,

A neighbour's madness, or his spouse's, About some great affair, at two —

Or what 's in either of the houses: “Put my lord Bolingbroke in mind,

But something much more our concern, To get my warrant quickly signed :

And quite a scandal not to learn : Consider 'tis my first request.

Which is the happier, or the wiser, Be satisfy'd, I'll do my best :

A man of merit, or a miser ? Then presently he falls to tease,

Whether we ought to choose our friends, “ You may for certain, if you please ;

For their own worth, or our own ends? I doubt not, if his lordship knew

What good, or better, we may call, And, Mr. Dean, one word from you —"

And what, the very best of all ? 'Tis (let me see) three years and more,

Our friend Dan Prior told (you know) (October next it will be four,)

A tale extremely à propos : Since Harley bid me first attend,

Name a town life, and in a trice And chose me for an humble friend ;

He had a story of two mice. Would take me in his coach to chat,

Once on a time (so runs the fable) And question me of this and that ;

A country mouse, right hospitable, As, “What's o'clock?” And, “How's the wind ?” Receiv'd a town mouse at his board, " Who's chariot's that we left behind ?"

Just as a farmer might a lord. Or gravely try to read the lines

A frugal mouse upon the whole, Writ underneath the country signs;

Yet lov'd his friend, and had a soul, Or, “ Have you nothing new to-day

Knew what was handsome, and would do 't, From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?"

On just occasion, coûte qui coûte. Such tattle often entertains

He brought him bacon (nothing lean); My lord and me as far as Staines,

Pudding, that might have pleas'd a dean; As once a week we travel down

Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make, To Windsor, and again to town,

But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;

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Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,
He eat himself the rind and paring.
Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,
But show'd his breeding and his wit ;
He did his best to seem to eat,
And cry'd, “ I vow you 're mighty neat.

ROBERT EARL OF OXFORD AND But Lord, my friend, this savage scene !

For God's sake, come, and live with men :
Consider, mice, like men, must die,

Sent to the Earl of Oxford, with Dr. Parnell's Poems Both small and great, both you and I :

published by our Author, after the said Earl's in. Then spend your life in joy and sport;

prrisonment in the Tower, and Retreat into the (This doctrine, friend, I learnt at court.")

Country, in the Year 1721. The veriest hermit in the nation May yield, God knows, to strong temptation. Such were the notes thy once-lov'd poet sung, Away they come, through thick and thin, Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue. To a tall house near Lincoln's-inn:

Oh just beheld, and lost! admir'd, and mourn'd! ('Twas on the night of a debate,

With softest manners, gentlest arts adorn'd! When all their lordships had sate late.)

Blest in each science, blest in every strain! Behold the place, where if a poet

Dear to the Muse! to Harley dear - in vain! Shin'd in description, he might show it;

For him, thou oft hast bid the world attend, Tell how the moon-beam trembling falls, Fond to forget the statesman in the friend; And tips with silver all the walls;

For Swift and him, despis'd the farce of state, Palladian walls, Venetian doors,

The sober follies of the wise and great ; Grotesco roofs, and stucco floors :

Dextrous, the craving, fawning crowd to quit, But let it (in a word) be said,

And pleas'd to 'scape from flattery to wit. The Moon was up, and men a-bed,

Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear, The napkins white, the carpet red :

(A sigh the absent claims, the dead a tear,) The guests withdrawn had left the treat,

Recall those nights that clos'd thy toilsome days And down the mice sate, tête-à-téte.

Still hear thy Parnell in his living lays, Our courtier walks from dish to dish,

Who, careless now of interest, fame, or fate;
Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish;

Perhaps forgets that Oxford e'er was great;
Tells all their names, lays down the law, Or, deeming meanest what we greatest call,
Que ça est bon !
Ah goûtez ça!

Beholds thee glorious only in thy fall.
That jelly 's rich, this malmsey healing,

And sure, if aught below the seats divine Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in." Can touch immortals, 'tis a soul like thine : Was ever such a happy swain!

A soul supreme, in each hard instance try'de He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.

Above all pain, and passion, and all pride, “ I'm quite asham'd — 'tis mighty rude

The rage of power, the blast of public breath, To eat so much — but all 's so good.

The lust of lucre, and the dread of Death. I have a thousand thanks to give

In vain to deserts thy retreat is made ; My lord alone knows how to live."

The Muse attends thee to thy silent shade: No sooner said, but from the hall

'Tis hers, the brave man's latest steps to trace, Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all :

Re-judge his acts, and dignify disgrace. “ A rat! a rat! clap to the door".

When interest calls off all her sneaking train, The cat comes bouncing on the floor.

And all th' oblig'd desert, and all the vain ; O for the heart of Homer's mice,

She waits, or to the scaffold, or the cell, Or gods to save them in a trice!

When the last lingering friend has bid farewell

. (It was by Providence they think,

Ev'n now she shades thy evening-walk with bays For your damn'd stucco has no chink.)

(No hireling she, no prostitute to praise); “ An't please your honour," quoth the peasant, Ev'n now, observant of the parting ray, “ This same dessert is not so pleasant :

Eyes the calm sun-set of thy various day, Give me again my hollow tree,

Through Fortune's cloud one truly great can see A crust of bread, and liberty !”

Nor fears to tell, that Mortimer is he.

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ONATHAN Swim, a person who has carried one brought him under the heavy imputation, from species of poetry, that of humorous satire, to a de- which he was never able entirely to free himself, of gree never before attained, was, by his parentage, being a scoffer against revealed religion. of English descent, but probably born in Ireland. His prospects of advancement in the political It is known that his father, also called Jonathan, career were abortive, till 1710, when the Tories having married a Leicestershire lady, died at an came into power. His connection with this party early age, leaving a daughter, and a posthumous son. began in an acquaintance with Harley, afterwards His widow, being left in narrow circumstances, Earl of Oxford, who introduced him to secretary was invited by her husband's brother, Godwin, St. John, afterwards Lord Bolingbroke; and he who resided in Dublin, to his house; and there, it engaged the confidence of these leaders to such a is supposed, Jonathan was born, on November 30th, degree, that he was admitted to their most secret 1667. After passing some time at a school in Kil- consultations. In all his transactions with them he kenny, he was removed to Trinity College, Dublin, was most scrupulously attentive to preserve every in his 15th year; in which university he spent seven appearance of being on an equality, and to repress years, and then obtained with difficulty the degree every thing that looked like slight or neglect on of bachelor of arts, conferred speciali gratia. The their parts ; and there probably is not another excircumstance affords sufficient proof of the misap- ample of a man of letters who has held his head so plication of his talents to mathematical pursuits ; high in his association with men in power. This but he is said to have been at this period engaged was undoubtedly owing to that constitutional pride right hours a day in more congenial studies. and unsubmitting nature which governed all his

So profuse are the materials for the life of Swift, actions. that it has become almost a vain attempt to give, in A bishopric in England was the object at which i moderate compass, the events by which he was he aimed, and a vacancy on the bench occurring, listinguished from ordinary mortals ; and it will he was recommended by his friends in the ministry "herefore be chiefly in his character of a poetical to the Queen ; but suspicions of his faith, and other composer that we shall now consider him. He was prejudices, being raised against him, he was passed arly domesticated with the celebrated statesman, over; and the highest preferment which his patrons Sir William Temple, who now lived in retirement could venture to bestow upon him was the deanery it Moor Park; but having made choice of the of St. Patrick's, in Dublin ; to which he was pre"church as his future destination, on parting in sented in 1713, and in which he continued for life. some disagreement from Temple, he went to Ire-The death of the Queen put an end to all contests Mand, with very moderate expectations, and took among the Tory ministers; and the change termiPorders. A reconciliation with his patron brought nated Swift's prospects, and condemned him to an him back to Moor Park, where he passed his time unwilling residence in a country which he always in harmony till the death of Sir William, who left disliked. On his return to Dublin his temper was him a legacy and his papers, He then accepted severely tried by the triumph of the Whigs, who an invitation from the Earl of Berkeley, one of the treated him with great indignity; but in length of Lords Justices of Ireland, to accompany him time, by a proper exercise of his clerical office, by thither as chaplain and private secretary; and he reforms introduced into the chapter of St. Patrick's

, continued in the family as long as his lordship re- and by his bold and able exposures of the abuses mained in that kingdom. Here Swift began to practised in the government of Ireland, he rose to distinguish himself by an incomparable talent of the title of King of the Mob in that capital. writing humorous verses in the true familiar style, His conduct with respect to the female sex was several specimens of which he produced for the not less unaccountable than singular, and certainly amusement of the house. After Lord Berkeley's does no honour to his memory. Early in life he return to England, Swift went to reside at his attached himself to his celebrated Stella, whose real living at Laracor, in the diocese of Meath ; and name was Johnson, the daughter of Sir William here it was that ambition began to take possession Temple's steward. Soon after his settlement at of his mind. He thought it proper to increase his Laracor he invited her to Ireland. She came, acconsequence by taking the degree of doctor of companied by a Mrs. Dingley, and resided near divinity in an English university'; and, for the pur- the parsonage when he was at home, and in it when pose of forming connections, he paid annual visits he was absent; nor were they ever known to lodge to that country. In 1701, he first engaged as a in the same house, or to see each other without a political writer ; and, in 1704, he published, though witness. In 1716, he was privately married to her, anonymously, his celebrated “ Tale of a Tub,” but the parties were brought no nearer than before, which, while it placed him high as a writer dis and the act was attended with no acknowledgment tinguished by wit and humour of a peculiar cast, that could gratify the feelings of a woman who

had so long devoted herself to him. About the humorous and sarcastic was his habitual tast:. year 1712, he became acquainted, in London, with which he frequently indulged beyond the bounds of Miss Esther Vanhomrigh, a young lady of fortune, decorum ; a circumstance which renders the task af with a taste for literature, which Swift was fond of selection from his works somewhat perplexing. I cultivating. To her he wrote the longest and most wit, both in verse and prose, he stands foremost is finished of his poems, entitled Cadenus and grave irony, maintained with the most plausible at: Vanessa ; and her attachment acquired so much of serious simplicity, and supported by gte strength, that she made him the offer of her hand. minuteness of detail. His “ Gulliver's Travels' Even after his marriage to Stella, Swift kept are a remarkable exemplification of his powers in Miss Vanhomrigh in ignorance of this connection; this kind, which have rendered the work wonderbut a report of it having at length reached her, she fully amusing, even to childish readers, whilst the took the step of writing a note to Stella, requesting keen satire with which it abounds may gratify the to know if the marriage were real. Stella assured most splenetic misanthropist. In general, hon. her of the affirmative in her answer, which she ever, his style in prose, though held up as a modt! enclosed to Swift, and went into the country without of clearness, purity, and simplicity, has only the seeing him. Swift went immediately to the house merit of expressing the author's meaning with perof Miss Vanhomrigh, threw Stella's letter on the fect precision. table, and departed, without speaking a word. She Late in life, Swift fell under the fate which be never recovered the shock, and died in 1723. dreaded: the faculties of his mind decayed before Stella, with her health entirely ruined, languished those of his body, and he gradually settled into abon till 1728, when she expired. Such was the solute idiocy. A total silence for some months fate which he prepared for both.

preceded his decease, which took place in October, Of the poems of Swift, some of the most striking 1744, when he was in his 78th year. He was inwere composed in mature life, after his attainment terred in St. Patrick's cathedral, under a monuof his deanery of St. Patrick ; and it will be ad- ment, for which he wrote a Latin epitaph, in which mitted that no one ever gave a more perfect ex one clause most energetically displays the state of ample of the easy familiarity attainable in the his feelings: -“ Ubi sæva indignatio ulterius cor English language. His readiness in rhyme is lacerare nequit.” He bequeathed the greatest part truly astonishing ; the most uncommon associations of his property to an hospital for lunatics and of sounds coming to him as it were spontaneously, idiots, in words seemingly the best adapted to the occasion.

To show, by one satiric touch, That he was capable of high polish and elegance,

No nation wanted it so much. some of his works sufficiently prove; but the

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Against our sovereign lady's peace,
Against the statute in that case,
Against her dignity and crown:
Then pray'd an answer, and sat down.

The nymphs with scorn beheld their foes :
When the defendant's counsel rose,
And, what no lawyer ever lack’d,
With impudence own'd all the fact;
But, what the gentlest heart would vex,
Laid all the fault on t' other sex.
That modern love is no such thing
As what those ancient poets sing;
A fire celestial, chaste, refin'd,
Conceiv'd and kindled in the mind;
Which, having found an equal flame,
Unites, and both become the same,
In different breasts together burn,
Together both to ashes turn.
But women now feel no such fire,
And only know the gross desire.
Their passions move in lower spheres,
Where'er caprice or folly steers.
A dog, a parrot, or an ape,
Or some worse brute in human shape,
Ingross the fancies of the fair,
The few soft moments they can spare,

The shepherds and the nymphs were seen
Pleading before the Cyprian queen.
The counsel for the fair began,
Accusing the false creature man.
The brief with weighty crimes was charg'd,
On which the pleader much enlarg'd;
That Cupid now has lost his art,
Or blunts the point of every dart;
His altar now no longer smokes,
His mother's aid no youth invokes :
This tempts freethinkers to refine,
And bring in doubt their powers divine;
Now love is dwindled to intrigue,
And marriage grown a money-league.
Which crimes aforesaid (with her leave)
Were (as he humbly did conceive)

Founded on an offer of marriage made by Miss Vanhomrigh to Dr. Swift, who was occasionally her preceptor. The lady's unhappy story is well known.


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