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In every job to have a share,
A jail or turnpike to repair;
And turn the tax for public roads,
Commodious to their own abodes.

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Perhaps I may allow the Dean Had too much satire in his vein; And seem'd determin'd not to starve it, Because no age could more deserve it. Yet malice never was his aim;

He lash'd the vice, but spar'd the name,
No individual could resent,

Where thousands equally were meant ;
His satire points at no defect,
But what all mortals may correct;
For he abhorr'd that senseless tribe
Who call it humour when they gibe:
He spar'd a hump, or crooked nose,
Whose owners set not up for beaux.
True genuine dulness mov'd his pity,
Unless it offer'd to be witty.

Those who their ignorance confest,
He ne'er offended with a jest ;
But laugh'd to hear an idiot quote
A verse from Horace learn'd by rote.

"He knew a hundred pleasing stories,
With all the turns of whigs and tories:
Was cheerful to his dying day;
And friends would let him have his way
"He gave the little wealth he had
To build a house for fools and mad
And show'd, by one satiric touch,
No nation wanted it so much.
That kingdom he hath left his debtor
I wish it soon may have a better.”

AN EPISTLE TO TWO FRIENDS.*

TO DR. HELSHAM.†

SIR,

Nov. 23, at night, 1731,

WHEN I left you, I found myself of the grapes juice

sick;

I'm so full of pity, I never abuse sick;

And the patientest patient ever you knew sick :
Both when I am purge-sick, and when I am spew-sick.
I pitied my cat, whom I knew by her mew sick:
She mended at first, but now she's anew sick.

Captain Butler made some in the church black and blue sick.

Dean Cross, had he preach'd, would have made us all pew-sick.

Are not you, in a crowd when you sweat and you stew,

sick?

Lady Santry got out of the church when she grew sick,
And, as fast as she could, to the deanery flew sick.
Miss Morice was (I can you assure 'tis true) sick:
For, who would not be in that numerous crew sick?
Such music would make a fanatic or Jew sick,
Yet, ladies are seldom at ombre or loo sick.

Nor is old Nanny Shales, whene'er she does brew, sick.

* This medley (for it cannot be called a poem) is given as a speci men of those bagatelles for which the Dean hath perhaps been too severely censured. H.

Richard Helsham, M. D. Professor of Physic and Natural Philosophhy in the University of Dublin. See the Preface to Delany on Polygamy, N.

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Suppose me dead; and then suppose
A club assembled at the Rose;

Where, from discourse of this and that,
I grow the subject of their chat.
And while they toss my name about,
With favour some, and some without;
One, quite indifferent in the cause,
My character impartial draws:

"The Dean, if we believe report,
Was never ill-received at court.
As for his works in verse and prose,
I own myself no judge of those:

Nor, can I tell what critics thought 'em;
But this I know, all people bought 'em;
As with a moral view design'd

To cure the vices of mankind:
His vein, ironically grave,

Expos'd the fool, and lash'd the knave.
To steal a hint was never known,
But what he writ was all his own.

"He never thought an honour done him
Because a duke was proud to own him;
Would rather slip aside, and choose
To talk with wits in dirty shoes;
Despis'd the fools with stars and garters,
So often seen caressing Chartres.
He never courted men in station,
Nor persons held in admiration;
Of no man's greatness was afraid,
Because he sought for no man's aid.
Though trusted long in great affairs,
He gave himself no haughty airs:
Without regarding private ends,
Spent all his credit for his friends:

And only chose the wise and good;

No flatterers; no allies in blood:
But succour'd virtue in distress,
And seldom fail'd of good success;
As numbers in their hearts must own,
Who, but for him, had been unknown.*

1

"With princes kept a due decorum;
But never stood in awe before 'em.
He follow'd David's lesson just;
In princes never put thy trust:
And would you make him truly sour,
Provoke him with a slave in power.
The Irish senate if you nam'd,
With what impatience he declaim'd!
Fair LIBERTY was all his cry;
For her he stood prepar'd to die;
For her he boldly stood alone;
For her he oft' expos'd his own;
Two kingdoms,† just as faction led,
Had set a price upon his head!
But not a traitor could be found,
To sell him for six hundred pound.

"Had he but spar'd his tongue and pen,

He might have rose like other men:

* Dr. Delany, in the close of his eighth letter, after having enume. rated the friends with whom the Dean lived in the greatest intimacy, very handsomely applies this passage to himself. H.

In 1713, the queen was prevailed with, by an address from the house of lords in England, to publish a proclamation, promising three hundred pounds to discover the author of a pamphlet, called, "The Public Spirit of the Whigs;" and in Ireland, in the year 1724, Lord Carteret, at his first coming into the government, was prevailed on to issue a proclamation for promising the like reward of three hundred pounds to any person who would discover the author of a pamphlet, called, "The Drapier's Fourth Letter, &c." written against that destructive project of coining halfpence for Ireland; but in neither kingdom was the Dean discovered. H:

But power was never in his thought,
And wealth he valu'd not a groat;
Ingratitude he often found,

And pitied those who meant the wound:
But kept the tenour of his mind,

To merit well of humankind:

Nor made a sacrifice of those

Who still were true, to please his foes:
He labour'd many a fruitless hour,
To reconcile his friends in power;
Saw mischief by a faction brewing,

While they pursu'd each other's ruin,
But finding vain was all his care,

He left the court in mere despair.*

"And, oh! how short are human schemes!

Here ended all our golden dreams.

What St. John's skill in state affairs,

What Ormond's valour, Oxford's cares,
To save their sinking country lent,
Was all destroy'd by one event.
Too soon that precious life was ended,
On which alone our weal depended.t
When up a dangerous faction starts,‡
With wrath and vengeance in their hearts;

* Queen Anne's ministry fell to variance from the first year afterits commencement: Harcourt the chancellor, and the secretary Bolingbroke, were discontented with the treasurer Oxford, for his too great mildness to the whigs; this quarrel grew higher every day until the queen's death. The Dean, who was the only person that endeavoured to reconcile them, found it impossible; and thereupon retired into Berkshire, about ten weeks before that event. H.

In the height of the quarrel between the ministers, the queen died, Aug. 1, 1714. H.

On the queen's demise, the whigs were restored to power, which they excrcised with the utmost rage and revenge; impeached and banished the chief leaders of the church party, and stripped all their adherents of what employments they had. H.

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