Let SWIFT be SWIFT, nor e'er demean "The sense and humour of the DEAN. "E'en let the antients rest in peace, "Nor bring good folks from Rome or Greece "To give a cause for past transactions, "They never dreamt of in their actions. "I can't help quibbling, brother Post, " "Twere better we should lay the Ghost, "But 'twere a task of real merit "Could we contrive to raise their Spirit." "Peace, brother, peace, tho' what you say, "I own has reason in it's way, "On Dialogues to bear so hard, "Is playing with a dang'rous card; "Writers of rank are sacred things, "And crush like arbitrary Kings. "Perhaps your sentiment is right, "Heav'n grant we may not suffer by't. "For should friend DAVIES overhear, "He'll publish ours another year." * Mr. Davies, the bookseller, of Great Russel-street, Covent Garden. FAMILIAR EPISTLE, FROM THE REV. MR. HANBURY'S HORSE, TO THE REV. MR. SCOT. AMONGST you bipeds, reputation Who has the sin of being poor; While wealthy dullness lolls at ease, -"What did his Lordship say?—-O ! fine! "The very Thing! Bravo! Divine!" And then 'tis buzz'd from Rout to Rout, While ladies whisper it about, "Well, I protest, a charming hit! "His Lerdship has a deal of wit. "How elegant that double sense! When all my Lord has said or done, Mark the fat Cit, whose good round sum, Amounts at least to half a Plumb; Whose chariot whirls him up and down Some three or four miles out of town; To take the Dust, which they call air. Mark! how the fools and knaves admire And cackling with incessant grin, Triples the Double of his chin. Birth, rank, and wealth, have wondrous skill; Make Wits and Statesmen when they will; While genius holds no estimation, From luckless want of Situation ; Howe'er he work and teaze his brain, My Dam, the Hippogryph, which whirl'd Astolpho to the lunar world. Both high-bred things of mettled blood, The best in all APOLLO's stud. Now CRITICS here would bid me speak They were fine mettled things indeed, A third, good Lord! would clear the world. If Accents MUST be us'd, or no, A doubt, which puzzles all the wise Of giant and of pigmy size, Who waste their time, and fancies vex With asper, lenis, circumflex, And talk of mark and punctuation, |