VERSES OCCASIONED BY WHITSHED'S [1] MOTTO ON HIS COACH. 1724 Libertas _et natale solum:_ [2] Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em. Could nothing but thy chief reproach Serve for a motto on thy coach? But let me now the words translate: _Natale solum_, my estate; My dear estate, how well I love it, My tenants, if you doubt, will prove it, They swear I am so kind and good, I hug them till I squeeze their blood. _Libertas_ bears a large import: First, how to swagger in a court; And, secondly, to show my fury Against an uncomplying jury; And, thirdly, 'tis a new invention, To favour Wood, and keep my pension; And, fourthly, 'tis to play an odd trick, Get the great seal and turn out Broderick;[3] And, fifthly, (you know whom I mean,) To humble that vexatious Dean: And, sixthly, for my soul to barter it For fifty times its worth to Carteret.[4] Now since your motto thus you construe, I must confess you've spoken once true. _Libertas et natale solum:_ You had good reason when you stole 'em. [Footnote 1: That noted chief-justice who twice prosecuted the Drapier, and dissolved the grand jury for not finding the bill against him.--_F._] [Footnote 2: This motto is repeatedly mentioned in the Drapier's Letters.--_Scott_.] [Footnote 3: Allan Broderick, Lord Middleton, was then lord-chancellor of Ireland. See the Drapier's Letters, "Prose Works," vi, 135.--_W. E. B._] [Footnote 4: Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland.] PROMETHEUS[1] ON WOOD THE PATENTEE'S IRISH HALFPENCE[2] 1724 When first the squire and tinker Wood Gravely consulting Ireland's good, Together mingled in a mass Smith's dust, and copper, lead, and brass; The mixture thus by chemic art United close in ev'ry part, In fillets roll'd, or cut in pieces, Appear'd like one continued species; And, by the forming engine struck, On all the same impression took. So, to confound this hated coin, All parties and religions join; Whigs, Tories, Trimmers, Hanoverians, Quakers, Conformists, Presbyterians, Scotch, Irish, English, French, unite, With equal interest, equal spite Together mingled in a lump, Do all in one opinion jump; And ev'ry one begins to find The same impression on his mind. A strange event! whom gold incites To blood and quarrels, brass unites; So goldsmiths say, the coarsest stuff Will serve for solder well enough: So by the kettle's loud alarms The bees are gather'd into swarms, So by the brazen trumpet's bluster Troops of all tongues and nations muster; And so the harp of Ireland brings Whole crowds about its brazen strings. There is a chain let down from Jove, But fasten'd to his throne above, So strong that from the lower end, They say all human things depend. This chain, as ancient poets hold, When Jove was young, was made of gold, Prometheus once this chain purloin'd, Dissolved, and into money coin'd; Then whips me on a chain of brass; (Venus[3] was bribed to let it pass.) Now while this brazen chain prevail'd, Jove saw that all devotion fail'd;