And to all future mankind shew How strange a paradox is true, That men who liv'd and dy'd without a name Are the chief heroes in the sacred list of Fame.

WRITTEN IN A

LADY'S IVORY TABLE-BOOK, 1699.

PERUSE my leaves through every part, And think thou seest my owner's heart, Scrawl'd o'er with trifles thus, and quite As hard, as senseless, and as light; Expos'd to every coxcomb's eyes, But hid with caution from the wise. Here you may read, "Dear charming saint!" Beneath, 66 A new receipt for paint." Here, in beau-spelling, "Tru tel deth;" There, in her own, " For an el breth :" Here," Lovely nymph, pronounce my doom!" There, "A safe way to use perfume :" Here, a page fill'd with billets-doux ; On t'other side, "Laid out for shoes"Madam, I die without your grace”— "Item, for half a yard of lace." Who that had wit would place it here, For every peeping fop to jeer; In power of spittle and a clout, Whene'er he please, to blot it out; And then, to heighten the disgrace, Clap his own nonsense in the place? Whoe'er expects to hold his part In such a book, and such a heart, If he be wealthy, and a fool, Is in all points the fittest tool; Of whom it may be justly said, He's a gold pencil tipp'd with lead.

MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION.

1699.

To their excellencies the lords justices of Ireland 1, the humble petition of Frances Harris, Who must starve, and die a maid, if it miscarries;

Humbly showeth,

That I went to warm myself in lady Betty's 2 chamber, because I was cold;

And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings, and six-pence, besides farthings, in money and gold:

So, because I had been buying things for my lady last night,

I was resolv'd to tell my money, to see if it was right.

Now, you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock,

Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very small stock,

I keep in my pocket, ty'd about my middle, next to my smock.

1 The earls of Berkeley and of Galway.

? Lady Betty Berkeley, afterwards Germaine,

So when I went to put up my purse, as God would have it, my smock was unript,

And, instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipt ;

Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady to bed;

And, God knows, I thought my money was as safe as my maidenhead.

So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light:

But when I search'd, and miss'd my purse, Lord' I thought I should have sunk outright. Lord! madam, says Mary, how d' ye do? Indeed says I, never worse:

But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with my purse?

Lord help me! said Mary, I never stirr'd out of this place:

Nay, said I, I had it in lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain case.

So Mary got me to bed aud cover'd me up warm: However, she stole away my garters, that I might do myself no harm.

So I tumbled and toss'd all night, as you may very well think,

But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a

wink.

So I was a-dream'd, methought, that we went and search'd the folks round,

And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's 3 box ty'd in a rag, the money was found.

So next morning we told Whittle . and he fell a swearing:

Then my dame Wadger came; and she, you know, is thick of hearing.

Dame, said I, as loud as I could bawl, do you know what a loss I have had?

Nay, said she, my lord Colways 6 folks are all very sad;

For my lord Dromedary comes a Tuesday without fail.

Pugh said I, but that's not the business that I ail. Says Cary, says he, I have been a servant this five and twenty years, come spring,

And in all the places I liv'd I never heard of such a thing.

Yes, says the steward 9 I remember, when I was at Such a thing as this happen'd just about the time of my lady Shrewsbury's, gooseberries.

So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief,

(Now, you must know, of all things in the world, I hate a thief).

However, I am resolv'd to bring the discourse slily about:

Mrs. Dukes, said I, here's an ugly accident has hap pen'd out:

'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a louse 10;

But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the house.

'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and six-pence, makes a great hole in my wages :

Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these

ages.

Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and every body understands,

That though 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands.

The devil take me! said she (blessing herself) if ever I saw 't!

So she roar'd like a Bedlam, as though I had call'd her all to naught,

So you know, what could I say to her any more? I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was before.

Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man!

No, said I, 'tis the same thing, the chaplain will be here anon.

So the chaplain came in. Now the servants say he is my sweetheart,

Because he 's always in my chamber, and I always take his part.

So, as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd,

Parson, said I, can you cast a nativity, when a body's plunder'd?

(Now, you must know, he hates to be call'd parson like the devil!)

Truly, says he, Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil;

d' ye see;

If your money be gone, as a learned divine says, [me: You are no text for my handling; so take that from I was never taken for a conjurer before, I'd have you to know.

Lord! said I, don't be angry, I am sure I never thought you so;

You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a parson's wife ;

I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in all my life.

With that he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say,

Now you may go hang yourself for me! and so went away.

Well: I thought I should have swoon'd. Lord! said

I, what shall I do?

I have lost my money, and shall lose my true love too!

Then my lord call'd me: Harry 12, said my lord,

For that, he said, (an't please your excellencies) I

must petition you.

The premisses tenderly consider'd, I desire your excellencies protection,

And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection;

10 An usual saying of hers.

11 Dr Swift.

And over and above, that I may have your excellencies letter,

With an order for the chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a better:

And then your poor petitioner, both night and day, Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound, shall ever pray.

A BALLAD

ON THE GAME OF TRAFFIC.
WRITTEN AT THE CASTLE OF DUBLIN 1699.
My lord, to find out who must deal,
Delivers cards about,

But the first knave does seldom fail
To find the doctor aut.

But then his honour cry'd, Gadzooks!
And seem'd to knit his brow:
For on a knave he never looks

But h' thinks upon Jack How 2.

My lady, though she is no player,

Some bungling partner takes, And, wedg'd in corner of a chair,

Takes snuff, and holds the stakes.

Dame Floy'd 3 looks out in grave suspense
For pair-royals and sequents;
But, wisely cautious of her pence,

The castle seldom fréquents.

Quoth Herries, fairly putting cases,
I'd won it on my word,
If I had but a pair of aces,

And could pick up a third.
But Weston has a new-cast gown
On Sundays to be fine in,
And, if she can but win a crown,
"Twill just new-dye the lining.

"With these is Parson Swift,

Not knowing how to spend his time, Does make a wretched shift,

To deafen them with puns and rhyme."

A BALLAD,

TO THE TUNE OF THE CUT-PURSE 4.

ONCE on a time, as old stories rehearse,

A friar would needs show his talent in Latin; But was sorely put to 't in the midst of a verse Because he could find no word to come pat in: Then all in the place He left a void space, And so went to bed in a desperate case:

on't;

[assistant?

Who would not write verses with such an

This put me the friar into an amazement :
For he wisely consider'd it must be a sprite;
That he came through the key-hole, or in at the
casement;

And it needs must be one that could both read and write.

Yet he did not know

If it were friend or foe,

Or whether it came from above or below:
However, 'twas civil in angel or elf,

For he ne'er could have fill'd it so well of himself.
Cho. Let censuring, &c.

Even so master doctor had puzzled his brains
In making a ballad but was at a stand:
He had mix'd little wit with a great deal of pains;
When he found a new help from invisible hand.
Then good doctor Swift,
Pay thanks for the gift;

For you freely must own, you were at a dead

lift:

And, though some malicious young spirit did do 't, You may know by the hand it had no cloven foot, Cho. Let censuring, &c.

Of forward face and ear acute,
Advanc'd on tiptoe, lean'd his head,
To over-hear the grand dispute:

To learn what Northern kings design,
Or from Whitehall some new express,
Papists disarm'd, or fall of coin:

For sure (thought he) it can't be less.

"My lord," said Bush, "a friend and I,
Disguis'd in two old thread-bare coats,
Ere morning's dawn, stole out to spy
How markets went for hay and oats."

With that he draws two handfuls out,
The one was oats, the other hay;
Puts this to 's excellency's snout,

And begs he would the other weigh.

My lord seems pleas'd, but still directs
By all means to bring down the rates;
Then, with a congee circumflex,

Bush, smiling round on all, retreats.
Our listener stood a while confus'd,

Enrag'd to see the world abus'd
But, gathering spirits, wisely ran for 't,

By two such whispering kings of Brentford,

THE DISCOVERY.

WHEN wise lord Berkeley first came here1
Statesmen and mob expected wonders,
Nor thought to find so great a peer
Ere a week past committing blunders.

Till, on a day cut out by fate,

When folks came thick to make their court, Out slipt a mystery of state,

To give the town and country sport.
Now enters Bush 2 with new state airs,
His lordship's premier minister;
And who in all profound affairs

Is held as needful as his clyster 3.

With head reclining on his shoulder,
He deals and hears mysterious chat,
While every ignorant beholder
Asks of his neighbour,
With this he put up to my lord,

Who is that?"

The courtiers kept their distance due, He twitch'd his sleeve, and stole a word; Then to a corner both withdrew.

Imagine now, my lord and Bush

4

Whispering in junto most profound, Like good king Phyz and good king Ush, While all the rest stood gaping round.

1 To Ireland, as one of the lords justices. 2 Bush, by some underhand insinuation, obtained the post of secretary, which had been promised to Swift,

3 Always taken before my lord went to council. 4 See the Rehearsal,

THE PROBLEM,

THAT MY LORD BERKELEY STINKS, WHEN HE IS IN

LOVE.

DID ever problem thus perplex,
Or more employ, the female sex?
So sweet a passion, who would think,
Jove ever form'd to make a stink?
The ladies vow and swear, they'll try
Whether it be a truth or lye.

Love's fire, it seems, like inward heat,
Works in my lord by stool and sweat,
Which brings a stink from every pore,
And from behind and from before;
Yet, what is wonderful to tell it,
None but the favourite nymph can smell it,
But now, to solve the natural cause
By sober philosophic laws :

Whether all passions, when in ferment,
Work out as anger does in vermin;
So, when a weazel you torment,
You find his passion by his scent.
We read of kings, who, in a fright,
Though on a throne, would fall to sh→
Beside all this, deep scholars know,
That the main string of Cupid's bow
Once on a time was an a-gut;
Now to a nobler office put,
By favour or desert preferr'd
From giving passage to a t―;
But still, though fix'd among the stars,
Does sympathize with human a—.
Thus, when you feel an hard-bound breech,
Conclude love's bow-string at full stretch,
Till the kind looseness comes, and then
Conclude the bow relax'd again,

And now, the ladies all are bent
To try the great experiment,
Ambitious of a regent's heart,

Spread all their charms to catch a f―;
Watching the first unsavoury wind,
Some ply before, and some behind.
My lord, on fire amidst the dames,
F--ts like a laurel in the flames.
The fair approach the speaking part,
To try the backway to his heart:
For, as when we a gun discharge,
Although the bore be ne'er so large,
Before the flame from muzzle burst,
Just at the breech it flashes first;
So from my lord bis passion broke,
He fd first, and then he spoke.

The ladies vanish'd in the smother, To confer notes with one another; And now they all agreed to name Whom each one thought the happy dame. Quoth Neal, "Whate'er the rest may think, I'm sure 'twas I, that smelt the stink." "You smell the stink! by G-, you lye," Quoth Ross," for I'll be sworn 'twas I." "Ladies," quoth Levens," pray forbear: Let's not fall out; we all had share; And, by the most I can discover, My lord's an universal lover."

DESCRIPTION

OF

A SALAMANDER. 1706.

Pliny, Nat. Hist, lib, x. c. 67, lib, xxix. c. 4,

As mastiff dogs in modern phrase are
Call'd Pompey, Scipio, and Cæsar;
As pyes and daws are often styl'd
With Christian nicknames, like a child;
As we say monsieur to an ape,
Without offence to human shape;
So men have got, from bird and brute,
Names that would best their natures suit,
The lion, eagle, fox, and boar,
Were heroes titles heretofore,
Bestow'd as hieroglyphics fit

To show their valour, strength, or wit a
For what is understood by fame,
Besides the getting of a name?
But e'er since men invented guns,
A different way their fancy runs :
To paint a hero, we inquire

For something that will conquer fire.
Would you describe Turenne or Trump?
Think of a bucket or a pump.

Are these too low?-then find out grander,
Call my lord Cutts a Salamander.
'Tis well;-but, since we live among
Detractors with an evil tongue,
Who may object against the term,
Pliny shall prove what we affirm :
Pliny shall prove, and we'll apply,
And I'll be judg'd by standers-by.

First, then, our author has defin'd
This reptile of the serpent kind,
With gaudy coat and shining train;
But loathsome spots his body stain.

Out from some hole obscure he flies, When rains descend, and tempests rise, Till the Sun clears the air; and then Crawls back neglected to his den.

So, when the war has rais'd a storm, I've seen a snake in human form, All stain'd with infamy and vice, Leap from the dunghill in a trice, Burnish, and make a gaudy show, Become a general, peer, and beau, Till peace has made the sky serene; Then shrink into its hole again. "All this we grant"-" Why then look yonder : Sure that must be a Salamander !" Farther we are by Pliny told, This serpent is extremely cold; So cold, that, put it in the fire, 'Twill make the very flames expire: Besides, it spues a filthy froth (Whether through rage or lust, or both) Of matter purulent and white, Which, happening on the skin to light, And there corrupting to a wound, Spreads leprosy and baldness round.

So have I seen a batter'd beau,

By age and claps grown cold as snow,
Whose breath or touch, where-e'er he came,
Blew out love's torch, or chill'd the flame :
And should some nymph, who ne'er was cruel,
Like Charlton cheap, or fam'd Du-Ruel,
Receive the filth which he ejects,

She soon would find the same effects

Her tainted carcase to pursue,

As from the Salamander's spue;
A dismal shedding of her locks,
And, no leprosy, a pox,
"Then I'll appeal to each by-stander,
If this be not a Salamander ?"

TO THE

EARL OF PETERBOROW,

WHO COMMANDED THE BRITISH FORCES IN SPAIN.

MORDANTO fills the trump of fame,
The Christian worlds his deeds proclaim,
And prints are crouded with his name.

In journies he outrides the post,
Sits up till midnight with his host,
Talks politics, and gives the toast;

Knows every prince in Europe's face, Flies like a squib from place to place, And travels not, but runs a race.

From Paris gazette à-la-main, This day arriv'd, without his train, Mordanto in a week from Spain.

A messenger comes all a-reek, Mordanto at Madrid to seek ; He left the town above a week.

Next day the post-boy winds his horn, And rides through Dover in the morn : Mordanto 's landed from Leghorn.

Mordanto gallops on alone;

The roads are with her followers strown; This breaks a girth and that a bone,

TRE queen has lately lost a part
Of her ENTIRELY-ENGLISH heart;
For want of which by way of botch,
She picc'd it up again with SCOTCH.
Blest revolution! which creates
Divided hearts, united states!
See how the double nation lies;
Like a rich coat with skirts of frize:
As if a man, in making posies,
Should bundle thistles on with roses,
Who ever yet a union saw

Of kingdoms without faith or law?
Henceforward let no statesman dare
A kingdom to a ship compare;
Lest he should call our commonweal
A vessel with a double keel:

Which, just like ours, new rigg'd and mann'd,
And got about a league from land,
By change of wind to leeward side,
The pilot knew not how to guide.
So tossing faction will o'erwhelm
Our crazy double-bottom'd realm.

ON

MRS. BIDDY FLOYD:

OR, THE RECEIPT TO FORM A BEAUTY 1.

WHEN Cupid did his grandsire Jove entreat
To form some beauty by a new receipt,
Jove sent, and found far in a country-scene
Truth, innocence, good-nature, look serene:
From which ingredients first the dextrous boy
Pick'd the demure, the awkward, and the coy.
The graces from the court did next provide
Breeding, and wit, and air, and decent pride:
These Venus cleans from every spurious grain
Of nice, coquet, affected, pert, and vain.
Jove mix'd up all, and his best clay employ'd;
Then call'd the happy composition Floyd.

1 The motto on queen Anne's coronation medal.

2 An elegant Latin version of this little poem is in the sixth volume of Dryden's Miscellanies.

APOLLO OUTWITTED.

TO THE HONOURABLE MRS. FINCH, AFTERWARDS COUNTESS OF WINCHELSEA, UNDER HER NAME OR

ARDELIA.

PHOEBUS, now shortening every shade,
Up to the northern tropic came,
And thence beheld a lovely maid,
Attending on a royal dame.

The god laid down his feeble rays,

Then lighted from his glittering coach;
But fenc'd his head with his own bays,
Before he durst the nymph approach.
Under those sacred leaves, secure

From common lightning of the skies,
He fondly thought he might endure
The flashes of Ardelia's eyes.

The nymph, who oft' had read in books

Of that bright god whom bards invoke, Soon knew Apollo by his looks,

And guess'd his business ere he spoke. He, in the old celestial cant,

Confess'd his flame, and swore by Styx, Whate'er she would desire, to grantBut wise Ardelia knew his tricks. Ovid had warn'd her, to beware

Of strolling gods, whose usual trade is, Under pretence of taking air,

To pick up sublunary ladies. Howe'er, she gave no flat denial, As having malice in her heart; And was resolv'd upon a trial,

To cheat the god in his own art. "Hear my request," the virgin said; "Let which I please of all the Nine Attend, whene'er I want their aid, Obey my cail, and only mine." By vow oblig'd, by passion led,

The god could not refuse her prayer: He wav'd his wreath thrice o'er her head, Thrice mutter'd something to the air. And now he thought to seize his due: But she the charm already tried. Thalia heard the call, and flew

To wait at bright Ardelia's side. On sight of this celestial prude,

Apollo thought it vain to stay;
Nor in her presence durst be rude ;

But made his leg, and went away,
He hop'd to find some lucky hour,
When on their queen the Muses wait:
But Pallas owns Ardelia's power;

For vows divine are kept by Fate.
Then, full of rage, Apollo spoke :

"Deceitful nymph! I see thy art; And, though I can't my gift revoke, I'll disappoint its nobler part. "Let stubborn pride possess thee long,

And be thou negligent of fame; With every Muse to grace thy song, May'st thou despise a poet's name! "Of modest poets thou be first;

To silent shades repeat thy verse, Till Fame and Echo almost burst, Yet hardly dare one line rehearse