Ornamented with an Engraving of the Dean, by Vertue.
In a little dark room at the back of his shop,
Where poets and scribes have dined on a chop,
Poor Faulkner sate musing alone thus of late,
"Two volumes are done--it is time for the plate;
Yes, time to be sure;--but on whom shall I call
To express the great Swift in a compass so small?
Faith, _Vertue_ shall do it, I'm pleased at the thought,
Be the cost what it will--the copper is bought."
Apollo o'erheard, (who as some people guess,
Had a hand in the work, and corrected the press;)
And pleased, he replied, "Honest George, you are right,
The thought was my own, howsoe'er you came by't.
For though both the wit and the style is my gift,
'Tis VERTUE alone can design us a SWIFT."
EPIGRAM
ON LORD ORRERY'S REMARKS ON SWIFT'S LIFE AND WRITINGS
A sore disease this scribbling itch is!
His Lordship, in his Pliny seen,[1]
Turns Madam Pilkington in breeches,
And now attacks our Patriot Dean.
What! libel his friend when laid in ground:
Nay, good sir, you may spare your hints,
His parallel at last is found,
For what he writes George Faulkner prints.
Had Swift provoked to this behaviour,
Yet after death resentment cools,
Sure his last act bespoke his favour,
He built an hospital--for fools.
[Footnote 1: Lord Orrery translated the letters of the younger
Pliny.--_Scott._]