With Hoop expanded wide and light,
In vain I tempt too high a Flight.

ME* Phœbus in a † midnight Dream
Accofting; faid, I Go fbake your Cream.
Be humbly minded; know your Post;
Sweeten your Tea, and watch your Toast,
Thee best befits a lowly Style:

Teach Dennis how to ftir the Guile :
With *g Peggy Dixon thoughtful fit,
Contriving for the Pot and Spit,
Take down thy proudly fwelling Sails,
And rub thy Teeth, and pair thy Nails.
At nicely carving show thy Wit;
But ne'er prefume to eat a Bit:
Turn ev'ry Way thy watchful Eye;
And ev'ry Gueft be sure to ply:
Let never at your Board be known
An empty Plate except your own,
Be these thy Arts; nor higher Aim
Than what befits a rural Dame.

BUT, Cloacina Goddess bright,

Sleek,

claims her as his Right:

And Smedly, Flow'r of all Divines,

Shall fing the D-n in Smedley's Lines.

* Cynthius aurem vellit. Hor. † Gum fomnia vera. Hor In the Bottle to make Butter.

Mrs. Dixon the Houfe-Keeper.

§ Ha tibi erunt artes. Virg.

↓ A very stupid, infolent, factious, deformed, conceited Parfon, a wile Pretender to Poetry, preferred by the D. of Grafton for his Wit.

The

The Defcription of an Irish-Feast, tranflated almost literally out of the Original Irish.

Tranflated in the Year 1720.

ROURK's noble Fare
Will ne'er be forgot,

By those who were there,
Or those who were not.
His Revels to keep,
We sup and we dine,
On feven Score Sheep,

Fat Bullocks and Swine.
Ufquebagh to our Feast

In Pails was brought up,
An Hundred at least,

And a * Madder our Cup.
O there is the Sport,
We rife with the Light,
In diforderly Sort,

From snoring all Night.
Oh how was I trick't,

My Pipe it was broke,

My Pocket was pick't,
I lost my new Cloak.

Wooden Veel

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;

Ay, this has fome Savour:
O Rourk's jolly Boys

Ne'er dream't of the Matter, Till rowz'd by the Noise,

And mufical Clatter,

They bounce from their Neft,

No longer will farry,

They rife ready dreft,

Without one Ave Mary.

They dance in a Round,

Cutting Capers and Ramping, A Mercy the Ground

Did not burft with their stamping, The Floor is all wet

With Leaps and with Jumps, While the Water and Sweat, Splish, splash in their Pumps. Blefs you late and early, Laughlin O Enagin,

By my Hand, you dance rarely, * Margery Grinagin.

Bring

Bring Straw for our Bed,
Shake it down to the Feet,

Then over us spread,

The winnowing Sheet. To fhow, 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 Midft of their Beer:
They rife from their Feaft,
And hot are their Brains,
A Cubit at leaft

The Length of their 9 Skeans.
What Stabs and what Cuts,
What clatt'ring of Sticks,
What Strokes on Guts,
What Baftings and Kicks!
With Cudgels of Oak,

Well harden'd in Flame,
An' hundred Heads broke,
An hundred ftruck lame.
You Churle, I'll maintain

My Father built Lusk, The Caftle of Slain,

And Carrickdrumrusk:

↑ Another Irish Name for a Woman. Daggers, or bort Savords.

The

The Earl of Kildare,

And Moynalta, his Brother,
As great as they are,

I was nurs'd 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-fe.

Clever Tom Clinch going to be hanged.

As

Written in the Year 1726.

S clever Tom Clinch, while the Rabble was bawling,

Rode stately through Holbourn, to die in his Calling; He ftopt at the George for a Bottle of Sack,

And promis'd to pay for it when he'd come back. His Waistcoat and Stockings, and Breeches were

white,

His Cap had a new Cherry Ribbon to ty't.

The Maids to the Doors and the Balconies ran,

And faid, lack-a-day! he's a proper young

Man.

But,