[Footnote 1:  See the translation of Carberiae Rupes in vol. i, p. 143.  In the select Poetical Works of Dr. Dunkin, published at Dublin in 1770, are four well-chosen compliments to the Dean on his birth-day, and a very humorous poetical advertisement for a copy of Virgil Travestie, which, at the Dean’s request, Dr. Dunkin had much corrected, and afterwards lost.  After offering a small reward to whoever will restore it, he adds,

“Or if, when this book shall be offer’d to sale,
Any printer will stop it, the bard will not fail
To make over the issues and profits accruing
From thence to the printer, for his care in so doing;
Provided he first to the poet will send it,
That where it is wrong, he may alter and mend it.”—­N.]

EPITAPH PROPOSED FOR DR. SWIFT. 1745

HIC JACET
DEMOCRITVS ILLE NEOTERICVS, RABELAESIVS NOSTER,
IONATHAN SWIFT, S.T.P.  HVIVS CATHEDRALIS NVPER DECANVS;
MOMI, MVSARVM, MINERVAE, ALVMNVS PERQVAM DILECTVS;
INSVLSIS, HYPOCRITIS, THEOMACHIS, IVXTA EXOSVS;
QVOS TRIBVTIM SVMMO CVM LEPORE
DERISIT, DENVDAVIT, DEBELLAVIT. 
PATRIAE INFELICIS PATRONVS IMPIGER, ET PROPVGNATOR
PRIMORES ARRIPVIT, POPVLVMQVE INTERRITVS,
VNI SCILICET AEQVVS VIRTVTI. 
HANC FAVILLAM
SI QVIS ADES, NEC PENITVS EXCORS VIDETVR,
DEBITA SPARGES LACRYMA.

EPIGRAM ON TWO GREAT MEN. 1754

Two geniuses one age and nation grace! 
Pride of our isles, and boast of human race! 
Great sage! great bard! supreme in knowledge born! 
The world to mend, enlighten, and adorn. 
Truth on Cimmerian darkness pours the day! 
Wit drives in smiles the gloom of minds away! 
Ye kindred suns on high, ye glorious spheres,
Whom have ye seen, in twice three thousand years,
Whom have ye seen, like these, of mortal birth;
Though Archimede and Horace blest the earth? 
Barbarians, from th’ Equator to the Poles,
Hark! reason calls! wisdom awakes your souls! 
Ye regions, ignorant of Walpole’s name;
Ye climes, where kings shall ne’er extend their fame;
Where men, miscall’d, God’s image have defaced,
Their form belied, and human shape disgraced! 
Ye two-legg’d wolves! slaves! superstition’s sons! 
Lords! soldiers! holy Vandals! modern Huns! 
Boors, mufties, monks; in Russia, Turkey, Spain! 
Who does not know SIR ISAAC, and THE DEAN?

TO THE MEMORY OF DOCTOR SWIFT

When wasteful death has closed the Poet’s eyes,
And low in earth his mortal essence lies;
When the bright flame, that once his breast inspired,
Has to its first, its noblest seat retired;
All worthy minds, whom love of merit sways,
Should shade from slander his respected bays;
And bid that fame, his useful labours won,
Pure and untainted through all ages run. 
  Envy’s a fiend all excellence pursues,