TO CARTHY, ATTRIBUTING SOME PERFORMANCES TO MR. DUNKIN
From the Gentleman's London Magazine for January.
My lines to him you give; to speak your due,
'Tis what no man alive will say of you.
Your works are like old Jacob's speckled goats,
Known by the verse, yet better by the notes.
Pope's essays upon some for Young's may pass,
But all distinguish thy dull leaden mass;
So green in different lights may pass for blue,
But what's dyed black will take no other hue.
UPON CARTHY'S THREATENING TO TRANSLATE PINDAR
You have undone Horace,--what should hinder
Thy Muse from falling upon Pindar?
But ere you mount his fiery steed,
Beware, O Bard, how you proceed:--
For should you give him once the reins,
High up in air he'll turn your brains;
And if you should his fury check,
'Tis ten to one he breaks your neck.
DR. SWIFT WROTE THE FOLLOWING EPIGRAM
On one Delacourt's complimenting Carthy on his Poetry
Carthy, you say, writes well--his genius true,
You pawn your word for him--he'll vouch for you.
So two poor knaves, who find their credit fail,
To cheat the world, become each other's bail.
POETICAL EPISTLE TO DR. SHERIDAN
Some ancient authors wisely write,
That he who drinks will wake at night,
Will never fail to lose his rest,
And feel a streightness in his chest;
A streightness in a double sense,
A streightness both of breath and pence:
Physicians say, it is but reasonable,
He that comes home at hour unseasonable,
(Besides a fall and broken shins,
Those smaller judgments for his sins;)
If, when he goes to bed, he meets
A teasing wife between the sheets,
'Tis six to five he'll never sleep,
But rave and toss till morning peep.
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