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I'm rifled, quoth Nell,

Of mantle and kercher,
Why then fare them well,
The de'el take the searcher.

Come, harper, strike up;

But, first, by your favour,
Boy, give us a cup:

Ah this hath some savour.

O'Rourk's jolly boys

Ne'er dreamt of the matter,
Till, rous'd by the noise,
And musical clatter,

They bounce from their nest,
No longer will tarry,

They rise ready drest,
Without one Ave-Mary.

They dance in a round,

Cutting capers and ramping;
A mercy the ground

Did not burst with their stamping.

The floor is all wet

With leaps and with jumps,

While the water and sweat

Splish-splash in their pumps.

Bless you late and early,

Laughlin O'Enagin! †

By my hand, you dance rarely,
Margery Grinagin. §

*A covering of linen worn on the heads of the women. F.

The name of an Irish man. F.

§ The name of an Irish woman.

An Irish oath. F.

F.

Bring straw for our bed,

Shake it down to the feet, Then over us spread

The winnowing sheet.

To show I don't flinch,
Fill the bowl up again;
Then give us a pinch

Of your sneezing, a Yean.
Good lord! what a sight,
After all their good cheer,
For people to fight

In the midst of their beer!

They rise from their feast,
And hot are their brains,
A cubit at least

The length of their skeans. ↑

What stabs and what cuts,

What clattering of sticks;
What strokes on the guts,
What bastings and kicks!
With cudgels of oak,

Well harden'd in flame,
A hundred heads broke,
A hundred struck lame.

You churl, I'll maintain
My father built Lusk,

The castle of Slane,

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The earl of Kildare,

And Moynalta his brother,
As great as they are,

I was nurst by their mother.*

Ask that of old madam :

She'll tell you who's who,
As far up as Adam,

She knows it is true.

Come down with that beam,
If cudgels are scarce,

A blow on the weam,

Or a kick on the a-se.

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Are by Robert Ballentine lately brought over, With forty things more: now hear what the law

says,

Whoe'er will not wear them, is not the king's lover.

* It is the custom in Ireland to call nurses, foster-mothers; their husbands, foster-fathers; and their children, foster-brothers or foster-sisters; and thus the poorest claim kindred to the richest. F.

ተ Proposal for the universal use of Irish manufactures," for which Waters the printer was severely prosecuted. See Vol. VII. H.

Though

Though a printer and dean
Seditiously mean

Our true Irish hearts from old England to wean We'll buy English silks, for our wives and our

daughters,

In spite of his deanship, and journeyman Waters. In England the dead in woollen are clad,

The dean and his printer then let us cry fye on; To be cloth'd like a carcase, would make a Teague

mad,

Since a living dog better is than a dead lion.
Our wives they grow sullen

At wearing of woollen,

And all we poor shopkeepers must our horns pull in. Then we'll buy English silks, for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his deanship, and journeyman Waters.

Whoever our trading with England would hinder,
To inflame both the nations do plainly conspire;
Because Irish linen will soon turn to tinder,
And wool it is greasy, and quickly takes fire.
Therefore I assure ye,

Our noble grand jury,

When they saw the deans book, they were in a great fury:

They would buy English silks, for their wives and their daughters,

In spite of his deanship, and journeyman Waters.

This wicked rogue Waters, who always is siuning, And before corum nobis so oft has been call'd, Henceforward shail print neither pamphlets nor linen,

And if swearing can do't shall be swingingly

maul'd:

Q 3

And

And as for the dean,

You know whom I mean,

If the printer will peach him, he'll scarce come off clean.

Then we'll buy English silks, for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his deanship, and journeyman Waters.

THE PROGRESS OF BEAUTY.

1720.

WHEN first Diana leaves her bed,
Vapours and steams her look disgrace,
A frowzy dirty-colour'd red

Sits on her cloudy wrinkled face:

But by degrees, when mounted high,
Her artificial face appears

Down from her window in the sky,

Her spots are gone, her visage clears. "Twixt earthly females, and the moon, All parallels exactly run:

If Celia should appear too soon,
Alas, the nymph would be undone!

To see her from her pillow rise,
All reeking in a cloudy steam,

Crack'd lips, foul teeth, and gummy eyes,
Poor Strephon! how would he blaspheme!
Three colours, black, and red, and white,
So graceful in their proper place,
Remove them to a different site,
They form a frightful hideous face:
For instance, when the lily skips
Into the precincts of the rose,
And takes possession of the lips,
Leaving the purple to the nose :

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