116

On the Death of Dr. Swift.

But dearest friends, they say, must part.
His time was come: he ran his race,
We hope he's in a better place."

Why do we grieve that friends should die?
No loss more easy to supply!

One year is past :-a different scene;
No further mention of the Dean;

Who now, alas! no more is miss'd
Than if he never did exist.

Where's now this favourite of Apollo?
Departed, and his works must follow;
Must undergo the common fate;
His kind of wit is out of date.

Some country squire to Lintot goes,
Inquires for "Swift in Verse and Prose."
Says Lintot, "I have heard the name,
He died a year ago." "The same."

He searches all the shops in vain.

'Sir, you may find them in Duck Lane;

I sent them with a load of books,

Last Monday, to the pastry cook's.
To fancy they could live a year!
I find you're but a stranger here.
The Dean was famous in his time,
And had a kind of knack at rhyme.
His way of writing now is past,
The town has got a better taste.
I keep no antiquated stuff,

But spick and span I have enough."

SWIFT.

"Very Like a Whale."

117

CCX.

"VERY LIKE A WHALE."

THE first of all the royal infant males

Should take the title of the Prince of Wales;
Because 'tis plain to seaman and to lubber

Babies and whales are both inclined to blubber.

CCXI.

ON AN M.P. WHO WON HIS SEAT, BUT LOST HIS CHARACTER.

His degradation is complete,

His name with loss of honour branding;

When he resolved to win his seat,

He literally lost his standing.

CCXII.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY OF UNGENTLE MOODS.

"COME hither, Sir John, my picture is here,
What say you, my love, does it strike you ?"
"I can't say it does just at present, my dear,
But I think it soon will, it's so like you!"

CCXIII.

TO SERJEANT GARROW,

WHO WAS CROSS-EXAMINING AN OLD WOMAN, TO PROVE THAT A TENDER HAD BEEN MADE FOR CERTAIN DISPUTED PREMISES.

GARROW, forbear! That tough old jade

Can never prove a tender made!

JEKYLL.

FINE young folly, tho' you were
That fair beauty that I swear,

Yet you ne'er could reach my heart;
For we courtiers learn at school
Only with your sex to fool;

You're not worth the serious part.

When I sigh and kiss your hand,
Cross my arms, and wond'ring stand,
Holding parley with your eye,

Then dilate on my desires,

Swear the sun ne'er shot such fires,

All is but a handsome lie.

When I eye your curl or lace,

Gentle soul, you think your face

Strait some murder doth commit!
And your virtue doth begin
To grow scrup❜lous of my sin,
When I talk to show my wit!

Yet tho' truth hath this confest,
And I vow I love in jest,
When I next begin to court,
And protest an am'rous flame,
You will swear I earnest am,
Bedlam! this is pretty sport!

GEORGE ETHERIDGE. (1636-1688.)

Oliver Goldsmith's Epitaph.

119

CCXV.

A DISPUTE BETWEEN SIR GODFREY KNELLER
AND DR. RADCLIFFE.

SIR Godfrey and Radcliffe had one common way
Into one common garden—and each had a key.
Quoth Kneller, "I'll certainly stop up that door,
If ever I find it unlocked any more!"

"Your threats," replies Radcliffe, "disturb not my ease, And so you don't paint it, you may do what you please." "You're smart," rejoins Kneller, "but say what you will, I'll take anything from you-but potion or pill!"

CCXVI.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH'S EPITAPH.

THE other day Sam said to Ralph,
"Who's to make Goldsmith's epitaph?"
"None living can!" Ralph sharp replied,
"He should have wrote it ere he died."

CCXVII.

ON A WINDOW.

THE glass, by lovers' nonsense blurred,
Dims and obscures our sight,

So, when our passions Love has stirred,
It darkens Reason's light.

ON AN INCLOSED COMMON.

'Tis bad enough in man or woman
To steal a goose from off a common;
But surely he's without excuse

Who steals the common from the goose!

CCXIX.

YOUTH.

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a flying;

And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a getting,

The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best, which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer,
But being spent, the worse and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, goe marry ;
For having lost but once your prime,

You may for ever tarry.

HERRICK.