DEAR Smed, I read thy brilliant lines,

Where wit in all its glory shines;
Where compliments, with all their pride,
Are by their numbers dignified:

I hope, to make you yet as clean
As that fame Viz, St. Patrick's dean.
I'll give thee furplice, verge, and fall,
And may be something else withal;
And, were you not so good a writer,
I should prefent you with a mitre.
Write worse then, if you can-Be wife-
Believe me, 'tis the way to rife.
Talk not of making of thy nest :
Abl never lay thy head to reft!
That head fo well with wisdom fraught,
That writes without the toil of thought!
While others rack their busy brains,
You are not in the least at pains.
Down to your deanry now repair,
And build a cafle in the air.
I'm fure a man of your fine fenfe
Can do it with a small expence.
There your dear spouse and you together
May breathe your bellies full of ather.

When

1

"When lady Luna is your neighbour,

She'll help your wife when the 's in labour;
Well fkill'd in midwife artifices,

For the herself oft falls in pieces.

There you fhall fee a raree-fbew
Will make you fcorn this world below,
When you behold the milky way,
As white as fnow, as bright as day;
The glittering constellations róll
About the grinding Arctic pöle;
The lovely tingling in your ears,
Wrought by the mufick of the fpheres-
Your fpoule fhall then no longer hector,
You need not fear a curtain-lecture;
Nor fhall the think that she is undone
For quitting her beloved London.
When she's exalted in the fkies,

She 'll never think of mutton-pies;

When you're advanc'd above dean Viz,
You'll never think of goody Griz.
But ever, ever, live at ease,

And strive, and strive, your wife to please;
In her
you 'll centre all your joys,

And get ten thousand girls and boys :
Ten thousand girls and boys you,'ll get,
And they like stars shall rise and set.
While you and Spouse, transform'd, thall foon
Be a new fun and a new moon :

Nor fhall you strive your horns to hide,
For then your horns fhall be your pride.

VERSES

IF

BY STELLA..

F it be true, celestial Powers,
That you have form'd me fair,
And yet, in all my vainest hours,
My mind has been my care :
Then, in return, I beg this grace,
As you were ever kind,

What envious Time takes from my face,

Bestow upon my mind!

JEALOUSY.

Shield me from his

BY

THE SAME*

rage, celeftial Powers;

This tyrant, that embitters all my hours!
Ah, Love! you've poorly play'd the hero's part:
You conquer'd, but you can't defend, my heart..
When first I bent beneath your gentle reign,
I thought this monster banish'd from your train
But you
would raise him to fupport your throne;
And now he claims your empire as his own.
Or tell me, tyrants! have you both agreed,
That where one reigns, the other shall fucceed?

DR. DELANY'S VILLA..

WOULD you that Delville I defcribe?

Believe me, Sir, I will not gibe :

For who would be fatirical

Upon a thing fo very small?

* On the publication of "Cadenus and Vanesfa.”

You

You scarce upon the borders enter, Before you 're at the very centre.

A fingle crow can make it night,

When o'er your farm she takes her flight:
Yet, in this narrow compass, we

Obferve a vast variety;

Both walks, walls, meadows, and parterres,.
Windows and doors, and rooms and stairs,
And hills and dales, and woods and fields,
And hay, and grafs, and corn, it yields;
All to your haggard brought fo cheap in,
Without the mowing or the reaping :
A razor, though to say 't I'm loth,
Would fhave you and your meadows both.
Though small's the farm, yet here's a house
Full large to entertain a mouse;

But where a rat is dreaded more
Than favage Caledonian boar;

For, if it's enter'd by a rat,
There is no room to bring a cat.
A little rivulet feems to steal
Down through a thing you call a vale,
Like tears adown a wrinkled cheek,

Like rain along a blade of leek;

And this

fweet meander,
call your
you

Which might be fuck'd up by a gander,
Could he but force his nether bill

To scoop the channel of the rill.

For fure you 'd make a mighty clutter,
Were it as big as city-gutter..

Next come I to your kitchen-garden,

Where one poor mouse would fare but hard in;
And round this garden is a walk,
No longer than a taylor's chalk;
Thus I compare what space is in it,
A snail creeps round it in a minute.
One lettuce makes a fhift to fqueeze
Up through a tuft you call your trees:
And, once a year, a fingle rose
Peeps from the bud, but never blows ;
In vain then you expect its bloom!
It cannot blow, for want of room.

In short, in all your boafted feat,
There's nothing but yourself that 's GREAT.

On one of the Windows at DELVILLE.

Bard, grown defirous of faving his pelf,

Built a house he was fure would hold none but

himself.

This enrag'd god Apollo, who Mercury sent,
And bid him go ask what his votary meant.

Some foe to my empire has been his adviser: "Tis of dreadful portent when a poet turns mifer! - "Tell him, Hermes, froin me, tell that subject of mine, "I have fworn by The Styx, to defeat his defign; "For wherever he lives, the Muses shall reign;

And the Mufes, he knows, have a numerous train."

CARBERIÆ