"My only friend, my dear," said she, "You see 'tis mere necessity

"Hath sent me to your house to whelp: "I die if you refuse your help."

With fawning whine, and rueful tone,
With artful sigh, and feigned groan,
With couchant cringe, and flattering tale,
Smooth Bawty † did so far prevail,
That Music gave her leave to litter;
(But mark what follow'd-faith! she bit her)
Whole baskets full of bits and scraps,
And broth enough to fill her paps;

For, well she knew, her numerous brood,
For want of milk, would suck her blood.
But when she thought her pains were done,
And now 'twas high time to be gone;
In civil terms,-"My friend," said she,
My house you've had on courtesy ;
And now I earnestly desire,

That you would with your cubs retire;
For, should you stay but one week longer,
I shall be starved with cold and hunger."
The guest reply'd-" My friend, your leave
I must a little longer crave;

Stay till my tender cubs can find

Their way for now, you see, they're blind;
But, when we've gather'd strength, I swear,
We'll to our barn again repair."

The time pass'd on; and Music came,
Her kennel once again to claim;
But Bawty, lost to shame and honour,
Set all her cubs at once upon her;
Made her retire, and quit her right,
And loudly cry'd-" A bite! bite!"

† A Scotch name for a bitch, alluding to the kirk.

THE MORAL.

Thus did the Grecian wooden horse
Conceal a fatal armed force:

No sooner brought within the walls,
But Ilium's lost, and Priam falls.

HORACE, BOOK III. ODE II.

TO THE EARL of oxford, LATE LORD TREASURER. SENT TO HIM WHEN IN THE Tower, 1716.

[These spirited verses, although they have not the affecting pathos of those addressed by Pope to the same great person, during his misfortunes, evince the firmness of Swift's political principles and personal attachment.]

How blest is he, who for his country dies,
Since death pursues the coward as he flies!
The youth in vain would fly from Fate's attack;
With trembling knees, and Terror at his back;
Though Fear should lend him pinions like the
wind,

Yet swifter Fate will seize him from behind.
Virtue repulsed, yet knows not to repine;
But shall with unattainted honour shine;
Nor stoops to take the staff, * nor lays it down,
Just as the rabble please to smile or frown.
Virtue, to crown her favourites, loves to try
Some new unbeaten passage to the sky;

* The ensign of the lord treasurer's office.

Where Jove a seat among the gods will give
To those who die, for meriting to live.

Next faithful Silence hath a sure reward;
Within our breast be every secret barr'd!
He, who betrays his friend, shall never be
Under one roof, or in one ship, with me:
For who with traitors would his safety trust,
Lest with the wicked, heaven involve the just?
And though the villain 'scape a while, he feels
Slow vengeance, like a bloodhound, at his heels.

PARODY

On the Recorder of Blessington's Address to Queen Anne. *

Mr William Crowe, Recorder of Blessington's Address to her Majesty, as copied from the London Gazette.

To the Queen's most Excellent Majesty,

The humble Address of the Sovereign, Recorder, Burgesses, and Freemen, of the Borough of Blessington,

May it please your Majesty,

THOUGH We stand almost last on the roll of boroughs of this your majesty's kingdom of Ireland, and therefore, in good manners to our elder brothers, press but late among the joyful crowd about your royal throne: yet we beg leave to as

*This piece, and those which follow, were first extracted by the learned Dr Barrett, of Trinity College, Dublin, from the Lanesborough and other MSS. I have retained them from internal evidence, as I have discarded some articles upon the same score.

sure your majesty, that we come behind none in our good affection to your sacred person and government; insomuch that the late surprising accounts from Germany have filled us with a joy not inferior to any of our fellow-subjects.

We heard with transport that the English warmed the field to that degree, that thirty squadrons, part of the vanquished enemy, were forced to fly to water, not able to stand their fire, and drank their last draught in the Danube, for the waste they had before committed on its injured banks, thereby putting an end to their master's longboasted victories: a glorious push indeed, and worthy a general of the queen of England. And we are not a little pleased, to find several gentlemen in considerable posts of your majesty's army, who drew their first breath in this country, sharing in the good fortune of those who so effectually put in execution the command of your gallant, enterprizing general, whose twin-battles have, with his own title of Marlborough, given immortality to the otherwise perishing names of Schellenberg and Hogstete: actions that speak him born under stars as propitious to England as that he now wears, on both which he has so often reflected lustre, as to have now abundantly repaid the glory they once lent him. Nor can we but congratulate with a joy proportioned to the success of your majesty's fleet, our last campaign at sea, since by it we observe the French obliged to steer their wonted course for security, to their ports; and Gibraltar, the Spaniards' ancient defence, bravely stormed, possessed, and maintained by your majesty's subjects.

May the supplies for reducing the exorbitant power of France be such, as may soon turn your wreaths of laurel into branches of olive: that, af

ter the toils of a just and honourable war, carried on by a confederacy of which your majesty is most truly, as of the faith, styled Defender, we may live to enjoy, under your majesty's auspicious government, the blessings of a profound and lasting peace; a peace beyond the power of him to violate, who, but for his own unreasonable conveniency, destructive always of his neighbours, never yet kept any. And, to complete our happiness, may your majesty again prove to your own family, what you have been so eminently to the true church, a nursing mother. So wish, and so pray, may it please your majesty, your majesty's most dutiful and loyal subjects, and devoted humble servants.

This Address was presented January 17, 1704-5.

Mr William Crowe's Address to her Majesty, turned into Metre.

FROM a town that consists of a church and a steeple,

With three or four houses, and as many people, There went an Address in great form and good

order,

Composed, as 'tis said, by Will Crowe, their Re

corder.

And thus it began to an excellent tune :

Forgive us, good madam, that we did not as soon As the rest of the cities and towns of this nation Wish your majesty joy on this glorious occasion. Not that we're less hearty or loyal than others, But having a great many sisters and brothers, Our borough in riches and years far exceeding, We let them speak first, to show our good breeding.