O! were but you and I so wise, To see with Robert Grattan's eyes! Robin adores that spot of earth, That literal spot which gave him birth; And swears, "Belcamp[6] is, to his taste, As fine as Hampton-court at least." When to your friends you would enhance The praise of Italy or France, For grandeur, elegance, and wit, We gladly hear you, and submit; But then, to come and keep a clutter, For this or that side of a gutter, To live in this or t'other isle, We cannot think it worth your while; For, take it kindly or amiss, The difference but amounts to this, We bury on our side the channel In linen; and on yours in flannel.[7] You for the news are ne'er to seek; While we, perhaps, may wait a week; You happy folks are sure to meet A hundred whores in every street; While we may trace all Dublin o'er Before we find out half a score. You see my arguments are strong, I wonder you held out so long; But, since you are convinced at last, We'll pardon you for what has past. So--let us now for whist prepare; Twelve pence a corner, if you dare. [Footnote 1: Dr. Swift had been used to celebrate the birth-day of his friend Charles Ford, which was on the first day of January. See also the poem, "Stella at Wood Park."--Dr. Delany mentions also, among the Dean's intimate friends, "Matthew Ford, Esq., a man of family and fortune, a fine gentleman, and the best lay scholar of his time and nation."--_Nichols_.] [Footnote 1: A celebrated tavern in St. James' Street, from 1711 till about 1865. Since then and now, The Thatched House Club.--_W. E. B_.] [Footnote 3: Mary, youngest daughter of the Duke of Marlborough, "exquisitely beautiful, lively in temper, and no less amiable in mind than elegant in person," married in 1703, to Lord Mounthermer, son of the Earl, afterwards Duke, of Montagu. See Coxe's "Life of Marlborough," i, 172.--_W. E. B._] [Footnote 4: Dr. Corbet, afterwards Dean of St. Patrick's, on the death of Dr. Maturine, who succeeded Dr. Swift.] [Footnote 5: Robert and John Grattan, and John and Daniel Jackson.--_H._] [Footnote 6: In Fingal, about five miles from Dublin.--_H._] [Footnote 7: The law for burying in woollen was extended to Ireland in 1733.] ON DREAMS AN IMITATION OF PETRONIUS Petronii Fragmenta, xxx. THOSE dreams, that on the silent night intrude, And with false flitting shades our minds delude Jove never sends us downward from the skies; Nor can they from infernal mansions rise; But are all mere productions of the brain, And fools consult interpreters in vain.[1] For when in bed we rest our weary limbs, The mind unburden'd sports in various whims; The busy head with mimic art runs o'er The scenes and actions of the day before.[2] The drowsy tyrant, by his minions led, To regal rage devotes some patriot's head. With equal terrors, not with equal guilt, The murderer dreams of all the blood he spilt.