EPITAPH

ON FREDERICK, DUKE OF SCHOMBERG[1]

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Hic infra situm est corpus
FREDERICI DUCIS DE SCHOMBERG.
ad BUDINDAM occisi, A.D. 1690. 
DECANUS et CAPITULUM maximopere etiam
atque etiam petierunt,
UT HAEREDES DUCIS monumentum
In memoriam PARENTIS erigendum curarent: 
Sed postquam per epistolas, per amicos,
diu ac saepe orando nil profecere;
Hunc demum lapidem ipsi statuerunt,
Saltem[2] ut scias, hospes,
Ubinam terrarum SCONBERGENSIS cineres
delitescunt
“Plus potuit fama virtutis apud alienos,
Quam sanguinis proximitas apud suos.” 
A.D. 1731.

[Footnote 1:  The Duke was unhappily killed in crossing the River Boyne, July, 1690, and was buried in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where the dean and chapter erected a small monument to his honour, at their own expense.—­N.]

[Footnote 2:  The words with which Dr. Swift first concluded the epitaph were, “Saltem ut sciat viator indignabundus, quali in cellula tanti ductoris cineres delitescunt.”—­N.]

VERSES WRITTEN DURING LORD CARTERET’S ADMINISTRATION OF IRELAND

As Lord Carteret’s residence in Ireland as Viceroy was a series of cabals against the authority of the Prime Minister, he failed not, as well from his love of literature as from his hatred to Walpole, to attach to himself as much as possible the distinguished author of the Drapier Letters.  By the interest which Swift soon gained with the Lord-Lieutenant, he was enabled to recommend several friends, whose High Church or Tory principles had hitherto obstructed their preferment.  The task of forwarding the views of Delany, in particular, led to several of Swift’s liveliest poetical effusions, while, on the other hand, he was equally active in galling, by his satire, Smedley, and other Whig beaux esprits, who, during this amphibious administration, sought the favour of a literary Lord-Lieutenant, by literary offerings and poetical adulation.  These pieces, with one or two connected with the same subject, are here thrown together, as they seem to reflect light upon each other.—­Scott.

AN APOLOGY TO LADY CARTERET

A lady, wise as well as fair,
Whose conscience always was her care,
Thoughtful upon a point of moment,
Would have the text as well as comment: 
So hearing of a grave divine,
She sent to bid him come to dine. 
But, you must know he was not quite
So grave as to be unpolite: 
Thought human learning would not lessen
The dignity of his profession: 
And if you’d heard the man discourse,
Or preach, you’d like him scarce the worse. 
He long had bid the court farewell,
Retreating silent to his cell;
Suspected for the love he bore
To one who sway’d some time before;