TO DEAN SWIFT, BY SIR ARTHUR ACHESON. 1728. GOOD cause have I to sing and vapour, And, sure as monument of brass, Their fame to future time shall pass; And coxcombs in red ribbons shine: You You never else had known the Dean, All things gone on the same dull track, DEAN SWIFT AT SIR ARTHUR IN THE NORTH OF IRELAND. THE Dean would visit Market-hill, I said "Why let him, if he will:" His manners would not let him wait, Three days before he was expected. After a week, a month, a quarter, Though not a soul would have him stay. I've said enough to make him blush, Nor for my life will take the hint. * The Dean gave this name to a farm called Drumlack, which he rented of sir Arthur Acheson, whose seat lay between that and Market-hill; and intended to build a house upon it, but afterward changed his mind. F. But But you, my dear, may let him know, How deep and foul the roads may grow, And, sir, I know, you hate a crowd." Or, Mr. Moore will take it ill." The house accounts are daily rising; How much he eats, how much he swills. His brace of puppies how they stuff! O! if I could, how I would maul Must I be every moment chid With Skinnybonia, Snipe, and Lean? O! that I could but once be rid Of this insulting tyrant Dean! The seat of Acheson Moore, esq. in the county of Tyrone. F. †The Dean used to call lady Acheson by those names. F. ON ON A VERY OLD GLASS AT MARKETHILL. FRAIL glass! thou bear'st that name as well as I; Though none can tell which of us first shall die. ANSWERED EXTEMPORE BY DR. SWIFT. ME only chance can kill; thou, frailer creature, Mays't die, like me, by chance; but must by nature. ON CUTTING DOWN THE OLD THORN AT MARKET-HILL. * AT Market-Hill, as well appears, * A village near the seat of sir Arthur Acheson, where the Dean sometimes made a long visit. The tree, which was a remarkable one, was much admired by the knight. Yet the Dean, in one of his unaccountable humours, gave directions for cutting it down in the absence of sir Arthur, who was of course highly incensed, nor would see Swift for some time after. By way of making his peace, the Dean wrote this poem; which had the desired effect. ANDERSON. Hither came every village maid, And on the boughs her garland hung; Sir Archibald, that valourous knight, Wise Hawthornden and Stirling's lord.†) But time with iron teeth, I ween, Has canker'd all its branches round; No fruit or blossom to be seen, Its head reclining toward the ground. This aged, sickly, sapless thorn, Cuts down with sacrilegious hand. Dame Nature, when she saw the blow, She scarce recover'd in a week. The Sylvan powers, with fear perplex'd, * Sir Archibald Acheson, secretary of state for Scotland. F. † Drummond of Hawthornden, and sir William Alexander earl of Stirling, who were both friends to sir Archibald, and famous for their poetry. F. The |