And maggots in your nose and chin As well may claim you for their kin. Yet critics may object, why not? Since lice are brethren to a Scot: Which made our swarm of sects determine Employments for their brother vermin. But be they English, Irish, Scottish, What Protestant can be so sottish, While o'er the church these clouds are gathering, To call a swarm of lice his brethren? "As Moses, by divine advice, In Egypt turn'd the dust to lice; And as our sects, by all descriptions, Have hearts more harden'd than Egyptians; As from the trodden dust they spring, And, turn'd to lice, infest the king: For pity's sake, it would be just, A rod should turn them back to dust. Let folks in high or holy stations Be proud of owning such relations; Let courtiers hug them in their bosom, As if they were afraid to lose 'em: While I, with humble Job, had rather Say to corruption--'Thou 'rt my father.' For he that has so little wit To nourish vermin, may be bit." [Footnote 1: Henry Singleton, Esq., then prime sergeant, afterwards lord-chief-justice of the common pleas, which he resigned, and was some time after made master of the rolls. [F.]] [Footnote 2: These lines occasioned the personal attack upon the Dean. [T.S.]] AN EPIGRAM.[1] INSCRIBED TO THE HONOURABLE SERGEANT KITE. "In your indignation what mercy appears. While Jonathan's threaten'd with loss of his ears; For who would not think it a much better choice, By your knife to be mangled than rack'd with your voice. If truly you [would] be revenged on the parson, Command his attendance while you act your farce on; Instead of your maiming, your shooting, or banging, Bid _Povey_[2] secure him while you are haranguing. Had this been your method to torture him, long since, He had cut his own ears to be deaf to your nonsense." [Footnote 1: Now first published from a copy in the Dean's handwriting; in possession of J. Connill, Esq. [S.]] [Footnote 2: Povey was sergeant-at-arms to the House of Commons.] "THE YAHOO'S OVERTHROW; OR, THE KEVAN BAYL'S NEW BALLAD."[3] UPON SERGEANT KITE'S INSULTING THE DEAN. _To the Tune of "Derry Down."_ "Jolley boys of St Kevan's,[4] St Patrick's, Donore, And Smithfield, I'll tell you, if not told before, How Bettesworth, that booby, and scoundrel in grain, Has insulted us all by insulting the Dean. Knock him down, down, down, knock him down.