"Spare your reflection," Phoebus cries;
"'Tis as ungrateful as unwise:
Can you complain, this sacred day,
That virtues or that arts decay?
Behold, in Swift revived appears:
The virtues of unnumber'd years;
Behold in him, with new delight,
The patriot, bard, and sage unite;
And know, Ierne in that name
Shall rival Greece and Rome in fame."
[Footnote 1: Written by Mrs. Pilkington, at the time when she wished to
be introduced to the Dean. The verses being presented to him by Dr.
Delany, he kindly accepted the compliment.--_Scott._]
ON DR. SWIFT
1733
No pedant Bentley proud, uncouth,
Nor sweetening dedicator smooth,
In one attempt has ever dared
To sap, or storm, this mighty bard,
Nor Envy does, nor ignorance,
Make on his works the least advance.
For _this_, behold! still flies afar
Where'er his genius does appear;
Nor has _that_ aught to do above,
So meddles not with Swift and Jove.
A faithful, universal fame
In glory spreads abroad his name;
Pronounces Swift, with loudest breath,
Immortal grown before his death.
TO THE REV. DR. SWIFT, DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S
A BIRTH-DAY POEM. NOV. 30, 1736
To you, my true and faithful friend,
These tributary lines I send,
Which every year, thou best of deans,
I'll pay as long as life remains;
But did you know one half the pain
What work, what racking of the brain,
It costs me for a single clause,
How long I'm forced to think and pause;
How long I dwell upon a proem,
To introduce your birth-day poem,
How many blotted lines; I know it,
You'd have compassion for the poet.
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