--_C. Walker_.]
[Footnote 2: A tavern in Dublin, where Demar kept his office.--_F_.]
[Footnote 3: These four lines were written by Stella.--_F_.]
EPITAPH ON THE SAME
Beneath this verdant hillock lies
Demar, the wealthy and the wise,
His heirs,[1] that he might safely rest,
Have put his carcass in a chest;
The very chest in which, they say,
His other self, his money, lay.
And, if his heirs continue kind
To that dear self he left behind,
I dare believe, that four in five
Will think his better self alive.
[Footnote 1:
"His heirs for winding sheet bestow'd
His money bags together sew'd
And that he might securely rest,"
Variation--From the Chetwode MS.--_W. E. B_.]
TO MRS. HOUGHTON OF BOURMONT,
ON PRAISING HER HUSBAND TO DR. SWIFT
You always are making a god of your spouse;
But this neither Reason nor Conscience allows;
Perhaps you will say, 'tis in gratitude due,
And you adore him, because he adores you.
Your argument's weak, and so you will find;
For you, by this rule, must adore all mankind.
VERSES
WRITTEN ON A WINDOW, AT THE DEANERY HOUSE, ST. PATRICK'S
Are the guests of this house still doom'd to be cheated?
Sure the Fates have decreed they by halves should be treated.
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