POETRY.

An elegant Tribute of Affection for a departed Relation, whofe Public Talents and private Virtues were eminently confpicuous.

VERSES to the Memory of my beloved Sifter MARIA LINLEY.

WICE had the forrowing mufe her tribute paid,
And the fad call of mourning love obey'd;

Again in cyprefs wreaths fhe veils her lyre,
And milder grief her plaintive ftrains infpire;
Again the comes to foothe my lonely hours,
And ftrew th' untimely grave with weeping flowers;
Sweet half-blown buds! cropp'd in their earliest bloom,
Fit emblems to adorn Maria's tomb;

The fair! the young Maria! the whofe fong
Charm'd to mute rapture the admiring throng;
Whofe fmiling lovelinefs all hearts fubdu'd,
Whofe gentle accents fond attention woo'd.
Mourn, beauty, mourn! no more with wanton pride
Boaft your bright charms with orient crimson dy'd:
Let fad reflection pleafure's dreams supply,
And tremble in the tear that dims your eye;
Such charms on fweet Maria were bestow'd,
There innocence and health, united, glow'd ;
So fhone the foften'd luftre of her eyes;
Such were the dazzling beams of glad furprize.
Ye too, whofe gentler fouls confefs the pow'r
Of heav'nly harmony, her lofs deplore,

Whofe notes, enchanting, ftruck with magic art
On all the foft vibrations of the heart;

Oh!

Alluding to the untimely death of my two brothers, Thomas and

Samuel.

Oh! let your dying ftrains to Heav'n be borne,
And imitate the excellence you mourn;
So fhall the angel spirit downward bend,
And tow'rds the friends fhe lov'd her arms extend,
Pitying the forrows we are doom'd to bear,
And vainly wishing us her blifs to fhare.

While thus my tears with thefe fad numbers flow,
Still fondly cherishing my pleafing woe:
While thus my lov'd Maria's form I trace,
Her animated look, her native grace,
I foothe the grief I wish not to fubdue,
And all her fweet perfections ftill renew.

To a YOUNG LADY, who wished not to bear a Funeral Bell.

A

ND why not hear the found of yonder bell ?

Ah! why from ferious thoughts for ever fly?

It tolls a fober, awful, folemn knell,

A wifh'd for knell to immortality.

Think not a round of folly's mad career

Can always fhield thee from reflexion's pow'r :
The young, the fond, the rich, the gay, muft fear,
Too long regardless of an awful hour.

Think not the beauteous form which now you wear,
That glow of crimson, thofe infpiring eyes,

Muft linger ever here;-they all declare,
They speak aloud their kindred to the fkies.

Do not the hour, the day, the month, the year,
All in their courfe expire-but all renew?
All nature fhows, alas! a profpect drear;
All nature shows there's happincfs in view.

Long loft in ftorms, do mariners repine
When the glad pilot diftant land's defcries?
Ah! fee them eager trace the folid line!

See their hopes kindle as the objects rife!

And shall my fair, with brighteft hopes in fore,
Not once look up beyond the barren clod?

Shall

Shall the alone her destiny deplore,

Her anchor Heaven, and her pilot God?

To a YOUNG LADY, who wished to afcend in an Air-Balloon.

And thus our anxious troubles end;

fweet forego,

That you will mount full well we know,
But greatly fear you'll not defcend.

When angels fee a mortal rife,

So beautiful, divine, and fair;
They'll not release you from the skies,
But keep their fifter angel there.

On the prefent Tafte for Sing-Song and Theatrical Exhibitions.

T

O cure the taking of the times

For fing-fong, mafks and pantomimes,
How fruitless were our pains!

Nor is't a matter of furprize;

For most have either ears or eyes,
But very few have brains.

On the TAX upon HATS,

Whereby every Hat above the Price of Two Shillings is obliged to have the Stamp of a CROWN in it.

T

O the crown what difgrace this new tax, fir, has brought on!
To many a fool what renown!

For fince the hat-tax was unluckily thought on,

How many calves beads wear the crown!

T

On the HORSE-TAX.

HOUGH the tax upon borfes much treafure amaffes, 'Twould be still more productive if laid upon asses.

THE

WEEKLY ENTERTAINER.

For MONDAY, December 13, 1784.

NEW ANECDOTES of DEAN SWIFT. [From the Life of Swift, written by T. Sheridan, and prefixed to the new Edition of his Works, in 17 Vols. Octavo.]

WIFT, while he was in Trinity College in Dublin, la

Sboured' under great pecuniary difficulties. On the lethargy

which feized his uncle Godwin, he received from his uncle William a very flender flipend for his fupport. His chief hopes, therefore, for any thing beyond that, refted in his coufin Willoughby Swift, eldeft fon of his uncle Godwin, a confiderable merchant at Dublin. Nor was he difappointed in his expectations: for, foon after the account of his father's unhappy fitua tion had reached Willoughby Swift at Lifbon, he, reflecting that his coufin Jonathan's deftitute condition demanded immediate relief, fent him a prefent of a larger fum than ever Jonathan had been master of in his life before. This fupply arrived at a critical juncture; when Swift, without a penny in his purse, was defpondingly looking out of his chamber window, to gape away the time, and happened to caft his eye upon a fea-faring man, who feemed to be making enquiries after fomebody's chambers. The thought immediately came into Swift's head, that this might be fome master of a veffel, who was the bearer of a prefent to him from his coufin at Lisbon. He faw him enter the building with pleafing expectation, and foon after heard a rap at his door, which he eagerly opening, was accofted by the failor with," Is your name Jonathan Swift ?" "Yes!" "Why VOL. IV. 102.

4 A

then

then I have fomething for you from mafter Willoughby Swift st Lisbon." He then drew out a large leathern bag, and poured out the contents, which were filver cobs, upon the table. Swift, enraptured at the fight, in the first tranfports of his heart, pushed over a large number of them, without reckoning, to the failor, as a reward for his trouble; but the honeft tar declined taking any, faying that he would do more than that for good mafter Willoughby.

This was the first time that Swift's difpofition was tried with regard to the management of money; and he faid, that the reflection of his conftant fufferings, through the want of it, made him hufband it fo well, that he was never afterwards without fome in his purfe.

WHEN Swift, not liking his dependent fituation at Sir William Temple's, at Moor Park, left him, and incurred his dif pleasure, he procured a recommendation to lord Capel, then lord deputy of Ireland, from whom it is uncertain; but it may be prefumed, from the fmallness of the provifion made for him in confequence of it, that it was not a powerful one; and therefore, that Sir William Temple had no fhare in it. He went over to Ireland, and was ordained in September, 1694, being then almost twenty feven years old. Soon after this, lord Capel gave him the prebend of Kilroot, in the diocese of Connor, worth about one hundred pounds a year.

To this place Swift immediately repaired, in order to refide there, and difcharge the duties of his office. He now for the first time enjoyed the fweets of independence; but thefe fweers were not of long duration, as he foon faw that the scene of his independence could not poffibly afford him any other fatisfac tion in life. He found himself fituated in an obfcure corner of an obfcure country, ill accommodated with the conveniences of life, without a friend, a companion, or any converfation that he could relish. What a contraft was this to the delightful fcene of Moor Park replete with all the beauties, and adorned with every elegance, that could charm the fenfes, or captivate the fancy; and where the mind had a continual feaft of the mott rational and refined converfation. But ftill the spirit of Swift fo far prized liberty above all other blefings in life, that had he had no other alternative, he would certainly have preferred that uncomfortable fituation to any flate of dependence. But he now began to feel his own frength, and, confcious of his powers, could not conceive they were meant for fo narrow a

Sphere