If you be wise, then go not far to dine; Meanwhile the South, rising with dabbled wings, Clogher will show it you. Pray tell me how you like it." Journal to Stella, O&. 17, 1710.-" Tell me how my Shower is liked in Ireland. I never knew any thing pass better here. There never was such a Shower since Danae's," &c. Ibid."I am writing my poetical description of a Shower in London, and will send it to the TATLER." Ibid.-"The bishop of Clogher says, I bid him read the London Shaver, and that you both fwore it was Shaver, and not Shower. You all lie, and you are puppies, and can't read Presto's hand," &c. Ibid. Nov. 28, 1710." My Shower admired with you; why the bishop of Clogher says, he has seen something of mine of the same sort, better than the Shower. I suppose he means The Morning, but it is not half so good." Ibid. Nov. 30, 1710.-"Mr. Dopping I have seen, and he tells me coldly, my Shower is liked well enough; there's your Irish judgment." Ibid. In the old folio, and first octavo, this word was used as a dissyllable, “Old a-ches throb," &c. and so it has continued in all the subsequent editions both of the TATLER, and SWIFT'S "Works," till the collection of the English Poets was published in 1779 by Dr. JOHNSON. And And wafted with its foe by violent gust, "Twas doubtful which was rain and which was dust.* Ah! where must needy poet seek for aid, When dust and rain at once his coat invade? †Sole coat! where dust, cemented by the rain, Erects the nap, and leaves a cloudy stain! Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down, Threatening with deluge this devoted town. To shops in crowds the daggled females fly, Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy. The Templar spruce, while every spout's abroach, Stays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a coach. The tuck'd-up semstress walks with hasty strides, While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's sides. Here various kinds, by various fortunes led, Commence acquaintance underneath a shed. Triumphant Tories, and desponding Whigs, Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs. || Box'd in a chair the Beau impatient sits, While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, And ever and anon with frightful din The leather sounds; he trembles from within. *"'Twas doubtful which was sea and which was sky." GARTH'S Dispensary. Originally thus, but altered when Pope published the "Miscellanies; " "His only coat, where dust, confus'd with rain, Roughens the nap, and leaves a mingled stain." Written in the first year of the earl of Oxford's ministry. As whig and wig only differ by an aspiration which is scarce to be distinguished, it may be thought an exception to SWIFT's remarkable exactness, that he has made them rhyme: but the same thing was afterwards done by Mr. Pope, either upon the Dean's authority, or because he did not think it liable to objection: "A joke on Jekyll, or some odd old whig, So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed, Now from all parts the swelling kennels flow, smell. They, as each torrent drives with rapid force, From Smithfield to St. Pulchre's shape their course, And in huge confluence join'd at Snowhill ridge, Fall from the conduit prone to Holborn bridge. Sweepings from butchers' stalls, dung, guts, and blood, Drown'd puppies, stinking sprats, all drench'd in mud, Dead cats, and turnip-tops come tumbling down the flood. ON THE LITTLE HOUSE BY THE CHURCHYARD OF CASTLENOCK. WHOEVER pleases to inquire *Mr. Beaumont of Trim. F. 1710. Once Once on a time a western blast This is the little strutting pile, A schoolboy ran unto't and thought, Warburton took it in his noddle, Archdeacon Wall, a correspondent of Swift's. F. + Dr. Swift's curate at Laracor. F. Ór Or of a pidgeon-house or oven, Is but a still which wants a spout. * Stella. F. + Minister of Trim. F. The waiting woman. F. THE |