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See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings,
And heap'd with products of Sabean springs!
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow.
And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See Heaven his sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a food of day!
No more the rising Sun shall grid the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays.
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze

No friend's complaint, no kind domestic fear
Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grae'd thy mournful her
By foreign hands thy dying eyes were cios i,
By foreign hands thy decent limos compos i ;
By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn 4,
By strangers honor'd, and by strangers mourn ¿:
What though no friends in sable weeds appear.
Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year
And bear about the mockery of woe

To midnight dances, and the public show?

O'ertlow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine What though no weeping Loves thy ashes grace. Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!

The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fail to dust, and mountains melt away!
But i'd his word, his saving power remains;
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!

ELEGY

TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY

WHAT beckoning ghost, along the moonlight shade.
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
T's she-but why that bleeding bosom gor'd,
Why dimly gleams the visionary sword!
Oh, ever beauteous, ever frendly! tell.

Is it, in Heaven, a crime to love too well!
To bear too tender, or to firm a heart,
To act a lover's or a Roman's part!
Is there no bright reversion in the sky.
For those who greatly think, or bravely die?
Why bade ye eise, ye powers' her soul aspire
Above the vulgar dight of low desire'
Ambition first spring from your biest abodes;
The giurions fault of angels and of gods:
Thence to their images on Earth it dows.
And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows.
Most souls. us true, but peep out once in age.
Duil suilen prisoners in the body's cage:
Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years,
Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres:
Like eastern kings a lazy state they keep.
And, close contin to their own palace, sleep.
From these perhaps ere Nature bade her die)
Fate snatch i her early to the paying sky.
As into ur the purer spirits dow

And separate from their kindred dregs below;
So few the soul to its congenial place,
Nor left one virne o redeem her mce.

But thou, false guardian of a charge no good,
Thou, nean deserter of thy brother's blood
See on these ribv lips the trembling breath.
These cheeks now timing at the binst af Death:
Couf is that breast wuch warm i the world befors,
And those love-iarting eyes must mil no more.
Thus, if eternal Justice miles the mail,

Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fail ·
On all the ane a sudden vengeance wants.
And frequent hearses shail besiege your intes:
There passengers shail stand, and pointing av.
Whle the long inerais blacken l the way
"Lu: these were they, whose sous he Fines sesi' i,
And curst with hearts unknowing how to pieid. '
Thus miamented pass be amud way.
The gaze of thuis, and pageant of a fav
So perish il, whose breast her earn in glow
For hers good, or mit at thers whe

What an tone, in, ever‹njur i shade:
Thy e ampied, and by ies imparti '

i

Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face!
What though no sacred earth allow thee room..
Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy amo'
Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dress i
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast
There shall the morn her eartiest tears bestow,
There the first roses of the year shail biow;
While angels with their siver wings i ershade
The ground now sacred by thy relies made.

So, peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,
What once had beauty, uties, wealth, and fune.
How lov'd. how honor'd once, avails thee aut,
To whom related, or by whom begut:
A heap of dust alone remains of thee.
Tis all thou art, and all the proud snail be!

Poets themselves must ful. ke those they sing,
Deaf the prais d ear, and mute he ainetul tongue
Ev'n he, whose sui cow meits in mourathi lays,
Shall shortly want the generous war le pays;
Then from his closing eves hy form sail part:
And the last ang shuil ear nee rom us heart;
Life's idle business at one risu je 1 ir,
The Muse burgut, and nou below à no more!

SATIRE

The first Part u verse 12mitated a the Year 1714, by Dr. Swift, the atter Part added ulerwanis.

I've often wish'd that I had clear
For life. sx unired pounds a year.
A handsome house o odge a inteni.
A river at my garrien's end.
A termce-waik, and bait a mood
Of land, set out to plant a wood.

Weil, now I have all this and more,
I ask not to increase my store:
"But here a grievance seems to lie,
All this is mine but all I die.

I can't but think twould sound more clever
To me and to my heirs for ever.
* If I ne'er got or lost 1 groat,
By any mes, or my fault;
And if I pray by Reason's miles,
And not like furry other bois:

As thus, - Vouchsafe, on gracious Maker'
To grant me this and other acre:
Or, if it be thy will and piensure,
Direct my now 'o 'ind a reasure ·

But only what my station its

And to be kept in my right wits.
Preserve. Amigny Providence
Just what you gave me, competence ·
And let me in these shades compuse
Something in verse is 'rue is mose.
Remov i rom ul h unitrous scene,
Nor juif à y rue, aur sink ly queen.”

In short, I'm perfectly content, Let me but live on this side Trent; Nor cross the Channel twice a year, To spend six months with statesmen here. I must by all means come to town, 'Tis for the service of the crown. "Lewis, the Dean will be of use, Send for him up, take no excuse.' The toil, the danger of the seas; Great ministers ne'er think of these; Or let it cost five hundred pound, No matter where the money 's found. It is but so much more in debt, And that they ne'er consider'd yet.

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"Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, Let my lord know you're come to town." I hurry me in haste away, Not thinking it is levee-day; And find his honor in a pound, Hemm'd by a triple circle round, Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green. How should I thrust myself between? Some wag observes me thus perplext, And smiling whispers to the next,

"I thought the Dean had been too proud,
To justle here among a crowd."
Another, in a surly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit,
"So eager to express your love,
You ne'er consider whom you shove,
But rudely press before a duke."
I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant to show
What I desire the world should know.
I get a whisper, and withdraw:
When twenty fools I never saw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Desiring I would stand their friend.
This, humbly offers me his case—
That, begs my int'rest for a place-
A hundred other men's affairs,
Like bees, are humming in my ears.
"To-morrow my appeal comes on,
Without your help the cause is gone."-
The duke expects my lord and you,
About some great affair, at two-
"Put my lord Bolingbroke in mind,
To get my warrant quickly sign'd.
Consider 'tis my first request."-
Be satisfied, I'll do my best :-
Then presently he falls to tease,
"You may for certain, if you please;
I doubt not, if his lordship knew-
And, Mr. Dean, one word from you—"

"Tis (let me see) three years and more, (October next it will be four,) Since Harley bid me first attend, And chose me for an humble friend; Would take me in his coach to chat,

And question me of this and that;

As, "What's o'clock?" And, "How's the wind?" "Who's chariot's that we left behind?"

Or gravely try to read the lines

Writ underneath the country signs;

Or, "Have you nothing new to-day

From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?"
Such tattle often entertains

My lord and me as far as Staines,

As once a week we travel down

To Windsor, and again to town,

Where all that passes, inter nos, Might be proclaim'd at Charing-Cross. Yet some I know with envy swell, Because they see me us'd so well:

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How think you of our friend the Dean?

I wonder what some people mean;

My lord and he are grown so great,
Always together, tête-à-tête.

What, they admire him for his jokes-
See but the fortune of some folks!"
There flies about a strange report
Of some express arriv'd at court;
I'm stopt by all the fools I meet,
And catechis'd in every street.
"You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great;
Inform us, will the emp'ror treat?
Or do the prints and papers lie?"
Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.
"Ah, doctor, how you love to jest!
"Tis now no secret"-I protest
"Tis one to me-" Then tell us, pray,
When are the troops to have their pay?"
And, though I solemnly declare

I know no more than my lord-mayor,
They stand amaz'd, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.

Thus in a sea of folly toss'd,
My choicest hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my country-seat!
There, leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book,
And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those cares that haunt the court and town.
O charming noons! and nights divine!
Or when I sup, or when I dine,
My friends above, my folks below,
Chatting and laughing all-a-row,
The beans and bacon set before 'em,
The grace-cup serv'd with all decorum :
Each willing to be pleas'd, and please,
And ev'n the very dogs at ease!
Here no man prates of idle things,
How this or that Italian sings,

A neighbor's madness, or his spouse's,
Or what's in either of the houses:
But something much more our concern,
And quite a scandal not to learn:
Which is the happier, or the wiser,
A man of merit, or a miser?

Whether we ought to choose our friends,
For their own worth, or our own ends?

What good, or better, we may call,

And what, the very best of all?

Our friend Dan Prior told (you know)

A tale extremely à propos :
Name a town life, and in a trice
He had a story of two mice.
Once on a time (so runs the fable)
A country mouse, right hospitable,
Receiv'd a town mouse at his board,
Just as a farmer might a lord.
A frugal mouse upon the whole,
Yet lov'd his friend, and had a soul,
Knew what was handsome, and would do't
On just occasion, coûte qui coûte.
He brought him bacon (nothing lean);
Pudding, that might have pleas'd a dean;
Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make
But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;

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Inr purter scarce mat onet 1 AL
But how is reed.ne in us vIL.
He fut us jest n seem a ent

And med. “I na ma e mort.tv jent
But Lt, ny here, his avage cene.
For God's sake, Time,
Ive with Ben:
Consider. nice, ike nen, nust be.
Bath small and great, with on and 1.
Ten mend write nov and sport,
Tus fortrine, hend. I earnt # murt.”
The remest bermit n he nation
May held. Got move o drong ́emnitation.
Auge her some, limigh h.ex ind hin.
1 al onse near Linen >m:
va in the night a Tebate.
Vien al heir ortishins ad sat ate..
Benoit he lace, viere i 1 met
Shin in tesentation, ie might show 1.
Telow he moonbeam rembling mis.
And ine with aiver al the wais:
Palatian walls. Venenan toors.
Genteren palk, and quero foors
But ett in a word' be sud.

d

The Moan was 10. and need.
The laukins vite, he amet
The guests withdrawn and ef he reat,
And town he muce ste, de-a-de

Our nurtier waiks from fish a rish.
Tistes r us tend u bwi and isn
Tis ul her names, avs town the law,
que a st wan La fontes

Whately a neh. his naimsey healing,
Pay to your viskers and your mi n*
X is ever much a dange swain
He mufs and evils, and stuffs again.
⚫n quite asham — is mighty rute
That much-ant als good.
I have a thousand hanks Dдve-
My on alone knows how a ive."
No maner mut, but from the inil
Rash thaplain, inter dogs, and ail:
dao o he door ".

The at somes wnnemg in the door.
Ohr the heart of Homer's nice,
Or zoria to save them in a mee

It was by Pmvidence they think.

For your famn i stueen has no chink..

* An 1 please your honor,” quoth the peasant, This same dessert is not so pleasant.

Give me again my hollow tree,

A crust of bread, and liberty."

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Severe he notes hy mee-or i met mng.
Till Death intimely toor is unetu. ongnə
Chust eneid. nd 386. wimir i, and moura
V in softest manners, gentlest irts worn i:
Best in ach cence, lest ¤ every strain
Jear o he Museo Barter ear—a rain?
Frum. hon at rast nd he vortú utend,
Find o orget he statesman n he rend
For Switt und um. tests i te arre it state,
The soner billes ne vise a great:
Dextrous he raving, awning rowd o nit.
Aut eas i Deane mom fatter to vit.

Asent or lead. sil et 1 mend be fear.
A agh he sent taims, he tea a ear,
Recail fiose nights that thus i hy misome ¿
Sil hear hy Pamel n ns iving ave
Vio. carries Tow of nterest, nine, ir åta
Perhans brgers hat Comer was great
Cr. teeming nearest viat ve greatest mil
Benoids hee ronous miv in ny hil.

A sure. I might low the seats tivine
Can Duch mmortais. is a sui ke tune:
A soni spreme, nen hard nstanes Tred,
Love ul ain, and passion, mi ul prue.
The age of power, he last if pubic breath
The just if ucre, and he tread of Death.
in vun a deserts tiv retreats nave;
The Muse utents hee to hy sient snade :
Ta hers, he brave man s atest stens to incCE,
Requigs us lets, mú tignity ÜSEPHOR.
Wien nterest als ufuil her mesing Tain.
An ulang i desert, and ul he van:
Šie vas. Dhe scafond, or the cei
When the last ingering trend nas na frewell
Iz 1 now she shades hy evening-walk with bays
Nursing me. 30 prostiture o ɔmise :

71 now, Joservant if he paring ¬v. Eves the calm sun-set of hy vrous iny. Through Fortune's tood me ry great can see, Nor tears to teil, nat Mortimer is 16.

JONATHAN SWIFT.

JONATHAN SWIFT, 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, gree never before attained, was, by his parentage, of 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 connexion 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 eight hours a day in more congenial studies. and unsubmitting nature which governed all his actions.

A bishopric in England was the object at which

So profuse are the materials for the life of Swift, that it has become almost a vain attempt to give, in a moderate compass, the events by which he was he aimed, and a vacancy on the bench occurring, distinguished from ordinary mortals; and it will he was recommended by his friends in the ministry therefore 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 early 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 at Moor Park; but having made choice of the of St. Patrick's, in Dublin; to which he was prechurch 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 land, with very moderate expectations, and took among the Tory ministers; and the change termiorders. 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 Lords Justices of Ireland, to accompany him thither as chaplain and private secretary; and he continued in the family as long as his lordship remained in that kingdom. Here Swift began to distinguish himself by an incomparable talent of 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 honor 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 connexions, 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 humor of a peculiar cast, that could gratify the feelings of a woman who

treated him with great indignity; but in length of time, by a proper exercise of his clerical office, by reforms introduced into the chapter of St. Patrick's, and by his bold and able exposures of the abuses practised in the government of Ireland, he rose to the title of King of the Mob in that capital.

had so long devoted herself to him. About the humorous and sarcastic was his habitual taste, 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 with a taste for literature, which Swift was fond of of selection from his works somewhat perplexing. cultivating. To her he wrote the longest and most In wit, both in verse and prose, he stands foremost finished of his poems, entitled Cadenus and in grave irony, maintained with the most plausible Vanessa; and her attachment acquired so much air of serious simplicity, and supported by great 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 connexion; 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, however, her of the affirmative in her answer, which she his style in prose, though held up as a model of inclosed to Swift, and went into the country without clearness, purity, and simplicity, has only the merit seeing him. Swift went immediately to the house of expressing the author's meaning with perfect of Miss Vanhomrigh, threw Stella's letter on the precision. table, and departed, without speaking a word. She never recovered the shock, and died in 1723. Stella, with her health entirely ruined, languished on till 1728, when she expired. Such was the fate which he prepared for both.

Late in life, Swift fell under the fate which he dreaded: the faculties of his mind decayed before those of his body, and he gradually settled into absolute idiocy. A total silence for some months 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. That he was capable of high polish and elegance, some of his works sufficiently prove; but the

To show, by one satiric touch,

No nation wanted it so much.

CADENUS AND VANESSA.*

WRITTEN AT WINDSOR, 1713.

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 Vonhomrigh to Dr. Swift, who was occasionally her preceptor. The lady's unhappy story is well known.

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 ver
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,
Engross the fancies of the fair,

The few soft moments they can spare,

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