One clincher more, and I have done,
I end my labours with a pun.
Jove send this Nightingale may fall,
Who spends his day and night in gall!
So, Nightingale and Lark, adieu;
I see the greatest owls in you
That ever screech'd, or ever flew.
[Footnote 1: Lord Allen, the same who is meant by Traulus.--_F._]
[Footnote 2: A Dublin gazetteer.--_F._]
[Footnote 3: See A New Song on a Seditious Pamphlet.--_F._]
DEAN SMEDLEY'S PETITION TO THE DUKE OF GRAFTON[1]
Non domus et fundus, non aeris acervus et auri.--HOR.
_Epist._, I, ii, 47.
It was, my lord, the dexterous shift
Of t'other Jonathan, viz. Swift,
But now St. Patrick's saucy dean,
With silver verge, and surplice clean,
Of Oxford, or of Ormond's grace,
In looser rhyme to beg a place.
A place he got, yclept a stall,
And eke a thousand pounds withal;
And were he less a witty writer,
He might as well have got a mitre.
Thus I, the Jonathan of Clogher,
In humble lays my thanks to offer,
Approach your grace with grateful heart,
My thanks and verse both void of art,
Content with what your bounty gave,
No larger income do I crave:
Rejoicing that, in better times,
Grafton requires my loyal lines.
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