The Irish Hudibras, or, Fingallian prince taken from the sixth book of Virgil's Æneids, and adapted to the present times.

THE Irish Hudibras.

(a) 1.1 O Hone! O Hone! And so the Bore Weigh'd Anchor to Infernal Shore; For on the Earth there was no space, T'allow the Prince a Baiting-place. The trembling Bogs shook with the weight, The murm'ring Floods bewail'd his flight; Until pursuing fatal doom, He strook on Coast of (b) 1.2 Inche-Cume:* 1.3 Where having scap'd another Rattle, He (c) 1.4 bound his Fleet with Twists of Wattle:

Obsequious Gad * 1.5, that serves instead Of Cables, Cords, Hemp, Flax, and Thread. (d) 1.6 And Nees no readier way cou'd think on, To tye their Noses * 1.7 to the Grinston: For Nees's Fleet in Ocean wavy, Were like his Men, a scampering Navy. That Navy which no Coast can match,* 1.8 Built without charge of Deck or Hatch; Where each whole chested Man of War, Scorn'd the Adjuncts of Pitch or Tarr: Nor did a Plank or Bolt appear, Or Rudder had where-with to steer; No Tackling, Rigging, Mast or Sail, To take th' advantage of a Gale; Nor Ballast had below the Hold, But what was pumpt with wooden Bowl:

No Cannons, nor wide-mouth'd Granadoes, Nees's Fire-balls were boil'd Pottados: Pottados still did serve, instead Of Peash and Bacon, Beef and Bread:* 1.9 'Twas all their stock; for they no more, Or Ammunition had, or Store. This was that famous Fleet which Nees, Like Meddars form'd of the whole piece: Meddar, which is a pretty Knack, A deep round foursquare wooden Jack; An ill-shap'd Trunk of carved Tree, An uniform Deformity. The Root their Stools, the Bark their Tables, The Stock was Ship, and Boughs were Cables; Digg'd up with Chissels undermining, Such as Westphalians feed their Swine in:* 1.10 A drowsie Fleet of sluggish Cots, Proper to bear such active Sots.

And Nees was glad when he had got 'em Each Tubb to sit on its own bottom. No Bark, no Boat was to be found, Shou'd Nees have giv'n a thousand pound;* 1.11 Which is the cause old Story tells, They were a Fleet of Cockle-shells, Sent from the Lady of Lorett, To waft him o're in spight of Fate. (e) 1.12The Dear-Joys rockt in Cot, like Cradle, Some on an Oar, some on a Paddle, Leapt to the shore a Crew of Swingers, Ready almost to eat their Fingers, For very hunger post away, Tag-Rag and Long-Tail for his prey; Some to the Bogs, some run a madding, And some unto the Woods a gadding;

Some with the Flint and Steel assayl, To fire the Funk upon his Nail; Some Houses burn, some burn Tobac. Some of their Deeds, some Vermin crack; Some to the Ale-house run, and throng To * 1.13 water Head with † 1.14 yellow Young; And after long and tedious ranging, By help of Mathematick Engine, A Setting-pole the cunning Rogues Brought from the Fleet to leap the Bogs: (f) 1.15 Springs, happy Springs, adorn'd with Sallets, Which Nature purpos'd for their Palats; * 1.16 Shamrogs and Watergrass he shows, Which was both Meat, and Drink, and Close. (g) 1.17 But Nees, more Zealous than the rest,* 1.18 Was of St. Patrick's Church in quest;

Which, if you credit antient Story, Is the high Road to Purgatory. Scarce had he sneez'd, when he begun To scrape Acquaintance with a Nun: Shela, for that's the Name they give her, For a close Bawd, and wicked Liver, Thô some did call her * 1.19 Sau, some † 1.20 Aina, Most for her Beauty call'd her * 1.21 Graina. So sly and exquisit a Witch she, Nature nere form'd so true a Gypsie: For she was skill'd in all their Wisdom, Cou'd unto any Man read His Doom; Or hang'd by Sea, or drown'd by Land Cou'd do the business to your hand; And by her skill in Palmestry, Wou'd tell you what should never be: In Peace or War, when Ruins threaten, Guess by the Victor, who was beaten:

And tell by th' parting of the Fray, Who Kept the Field, who ran away. This Flibber-gib Nees did importune, That he, forsooth, might know his Fortune; Who for a Bribe to bring her Grist, Cram'd a whole handful in her fist:* 1.22 She willing to attend his Grace, Mander'd not long, but in a space Tuck't up her Drab, through Marshes slabby, Both posting to St. Patrick's Abby. (h) 1.23 Now enter they the Boggs, and go Through golden Roofs of yellow Straw: From Bog to Wood, each Shrub they pass, Dropping an Ave, and a Mass.* 1.24 (i) 1.25 But when they had approach'd the Door; Says Shela, Nees, Be sure, be sure,

Thou have thy Beads in readiness,* 1.26 And all thy Roguery confess; Prepare thy * 1.27 Padreen, and thy Ryme, For we are come in Pudding-time. With that to'th' Gate his Grace adventur'd, Which Shela, without knocking, enter'd; And though they were in Limbo pent, Without a word of Complement, They raise the Hub-bub-boo,* 1.28 and cry, (k) 1.29 Saint Patrick, Patrick, my Dear Joy! When strait the Abbess chang'd her hue: And all her Carrets turn'd to blue; Her Hair, like finer Hempen-thread, Stood all an end upon her Head: So Mad she grew, and so Uncivil, You'd think her turn'd into a Devil.

But when the Spirit was more strong Within the Carcas of the Nun; She fell on Nees like Butter-Whore, Because poor Nees could pray no more. (l) 1.30 Dost thou leave off thy Prayers and Beading? * Culleen, the Devil take thy Breeding. Ill chance upon't, hast thou no shame? Go say thy Beads a Devils name. Well, Nees, if thou wilt not give o're Thy Irish Tricks. I'le say no more. (m) 1.31 And so when she had once begun To end her Speech, she held her Tongue. (n) 1.32 The Dear Joys strait began to quake, Stinking for, fear did Buttons make;

But Nees did (o) 1.33 pour out his Pray'rs From the very bottom of his— Dear Joy,* 1.34 (p) 1.35 St. Patrick, vil dou hear Dee own Cheeld Nees make his Pray-ere, Dat never did, or I'm a Teef, So much before in all mee Leef. Dear Joy, who sees our woful Case, Will dou sit still upon dee Ars, And see dese Dutch and English Rogues Strip off our * 1.36 Trouses, and our † 1.37 Brogues: Possess our * 1.38 Crates, and dy poor Cheeld Nees, And * 1.39 Culleens flee, like flocks of Wild-gees. De Devil take me, now I swear (Dear Gossop) by mee own Mak-keer

Nees vill (if (q) 1.40 he no better speed▪) Make hang upon himself indeed. What though of * 1.41 Ready nere a plack, Yet many a plugg of good Toback It cost me to come (r) 1.42 to dis Port; And not a Turd de better for't: Ycome like fool, ygo vidout My skeal, vid finger in my mout; Since I have seen dy own sweet Face, I know doul't never be so base. Derefore God bless it, Oh! * 1.43 Padeen. Vill dou take a little for de Queen? My Dear, my Joy, my † 1.44 Cram-ma-cree, I'll make much▪ Prayer upon dee; (s) 1.45 And all de rest * 1.46 ycoshere here It's now full teem to give Quar-teer.

(t) 1.47 And also dee, my prescious Nun, Yknows what never is to come; Grant dat I may but live at home, And (fate) is Nees but ask his own; To be my stay in my own Nation, Without Exile or Transplantation: To be restord without Reprisal, Or Court of * 1.48 Clamper to try Title; Lest Innocence being question'd, Poor Nees shou'd chance to be postpond; Or come in Rere of Dutch Debenturers, Or be kickt out by French Adventurers. If we ben't mortgag'd for a Summ, And there's for Nees in Ireland room; In peace to hold my few A-ceers,* 1.49 And Images of my Fa-deers:

And had I but one Cow, I tell dee, In all the World, vidout my Belly, I'de give is fait, vid all my heart, T'njoy my Land, or any part; My * 1.50 Banniclabber and Pottados, Without these French and Dutch Granados. (u) 1.51 And by my Gossops hand, I fate, I vill an Abby Dedicate To my Dear Joy, vidout no words, As big as Monastry of † 1.52 Swords; And to dy name make * 1.53 Holy-day, When all de Monaghans shall play: Ordain a Statute to be Drunk, And burn Tobacco free as* 1.54Spunk; And (fat shall never be forgot) In Ʋsquebah, St. Patrick's Pot;

To last for never in our Nation, On pain of Excommunication: (w) 1.55 And unto dee, my precious Whore, A place to hang up dy Pic-ture. Much Grace upon dee ugly fash, Where ev'ry one shall say a Mass; Where dy Mi-ra-cles shall be sung, By very ting dat has no tongue. Only I pray dee now, my Dear, Let not dy Ars make a * 1.56 Clam-peer; Lest vid a Fart dou blow it from me, And put de great Moccage upon me. Nor let de Vind dy Notes profane, But sing dyself de sweet * 1.57 Cro-naan. (x) 1.58 And so at length he brought about▪ An end of praying with his Mout.

(y) 1.59 This while the Nun to th' * 1.60 Coge did fall, And there she drank the Devil and all; Spewing and pissing as she stood, To throw him out in height of Flood: The more she strove to thrust him out, The more he firk't her Hide about: So hard he prest, and did so toss her, That she had hardly time to cross her; Till in these words the Fiend at once Did ope her hundred-folded Sconce: (z) 1.61 Oh Nees! poor Nees! thô it's not untrue, That thou hast many Gantlets run through By Water; there are still on Land Far greater Perils, by this hand. Wars! Wars! ah, bloody Wars I find it;

(a) 1.62 But hang it (Brother) never mind it. Thou wilt (but wish thou'dst never) come To thy own Country, House, and Home. The * 1.63 Liffy shall be chang'd to Blood, Besmear'd With Gore, instead of Mud: So shall the Brackney, and the Shanon, Nor shall great Scomberg's Tents want Cannon.* 1.64 Thy flying Hosts Dutch-Troops shall rack 'em, With Thousand English Braves to back 'em: (b) 1.65 Till thou disarm'd, and brought so poor, Art forc'd to beg from Door to Door. (c) 1.66 And all this mischief, on my Life, Again through an Imperious Wife; And foreign Priests, a Pox take * 1.67 'ame, For which poor Nees must bear the blame.

(d) 1.68 But since thou'rt custom'd to be beat▪ Be'nt basely Cow'd for one Defeat; Nor turn, like Coward, Tail upon't, But march up bolder to the Front. Humble the Whiggs in London-derry, The Forlet Scot beyond the Ferry: From Edinburrow cross the Tweed, And make the Heart of Europe bleed; As long as Fortune does not frown; And Great Nassaw (who guards the Crown) With Scomberg, let our Troops alone; Nees may be sure the Day's his own. But one thing more I must declare, Thou little dreams of, in this War: The first Relief that's hither blown, Shall come from Brest, or Dunkirk-Town,

With an Armado, which shall bring With them an Abdicated King; Who to retrieve his sudden Fall, In hopes of Winning, shall Lose all; Three Kingdoms quit, to set up Mass, And Cronicle himself an — Shall Monsieur above Nees advance, And Ireland Intail to France. (e) 1.69 * 1.70 Pox on dy Tail (says Nees) I tro; Vell vas dy vont for doing so; * 1.71 Spereen, and an ill Chaunce upon it, I tought no better voud come on it; Too vell I knew, by what's not past, 'Twould come unto dis pass at last. But since no Balsom for this Wound Is left for Nees above de ground,

(f) 1.72 One Courtesie I must demand, Since here's de Passage to dat Land; And here is Nees beg dy Par-doon, Dat I choos dee for my Gar-soon; Dat I may pass de black Va-teer, Once more to see my old Fa-deer; * 1.73 Good rest his Shoul, and Body too, Is ly vidin de ground below. O Hone! fait many a time, I swear, (g) 1.74 Vas carry it on dis Shoul-deer. If dou believe me, fat I say, My Bones yfeel it to dis day; And fate, when he was after dee, Vas give it charge to come to see:

And I meeself * 1.75 great Eye have still, To make performsh upon his Will. (h) 1.76 Now for de Son, and de Fa-deer, Conduct me to de black Va-teer. (i 1.77 For dou can do't, for fait dou wou'd not Be a right Nun, if dou understood not De next and ready way to Hell, You Women know dat way too vell: For I would try, if dat dere be In Hell for Nees a Vacancy; Since Soldering vill do no grace, To try to get an Evidaunsh-Place: And I deserve dat favour sure, As vell as Dermot o Con-noor.

If * 1.78 Rory, to his Nations praise, Out-swore de Devil to his face; (k) 1.79 If Teague and Shone Pollure cou'd Swear, Each in his turn, for his Bro-deer; Why shou'd not I set up a School, As well as any other Fool? For I can Swear with Bryan Hains, O Farrell, or a Brace of Pains. What should I talk of (l) 1.80 O Theseen, O Sheil, or Eustace o Com-meen: (m) 1.81 And fait, I tink, I am as good A Man, as none of all dat Brood. (n) 1.82 Thus said; the Abbess thus begun, (o) 1.83 Nees, thou art thy own Father's Son;

* 1.84 I knew thy Father well, that bore thee, And thy own Son And Heir before thee: Thy Father was a good Man, true; And, faith, so was thy Mother too. But hear a little what I say, (p) 1.85 The Gate lies open night and day: To go's, as plain as A, B, C; But Back's all the Concavity. The Way thou easily may'st find, But thou'lt return when th' Devil's blind. Ʋbboo! (says Nees) if dat be all, I'll go, or it shall cost a fall: It's de Deel's Luck, and if it prove Worse dere dan it has done above: For a long Journey he must strain Too far, vho ne'er returns again. Ne'er Venture, never Vin; vell, vell, Shela, I am resolv'd for Hell.

Nay, Vench, it is decreed, I must, And let the Devil do his worst. If e'er dou catch me (which I scorn) I' th' Pound, den put me in de Corn. (q) 1.86 Nay, Bird, if thou art so hot set, To throw thy self into the Net; So mad (said she) to visit Hell, And cannot see when thou art well: If thou'dst be damn'd before thy day, Take a Fool's Counsel first, I say. Within a Wood, near to this place, There grows a Bunch of Three-leav'd-grass, Call'd by the * 1.87 Boglanders, Shamrogues, A Present for the Queen of † 1.88 Shoges; Which thou must first be after-fetching; But all the Cunning's in the Catching.

For if it please the Gods thy Journey, 'Twill come with ease, and not stubborn be; Else all the World will not be able To pull it up with a Rope-Cable. (r 1.89 But Nees, while thou art mitching here, Thou little dreams of thy Pi-peer. One of thy Crew is gone before thee, To sound a Charge in Purgatory. Go Bury him, the Mourners Feast, And give a * 1.90 Black Sheep to the Priest; While thou art Feasting with thy Men, Thou may'st come hither back agen. Thus said, the Prince pull'd off his * 1.91 Brogues And trudg'd along with his Comrogues; Sore troubled, thinking whose was his Chance To fall to this unlucky Mischance.

(s) 1.92 Many a strange Conjecture they Do harbour, while they'r on the Way; One thinking one thing, and the other Feeding his Maggot with another. Last, in great Rage (says Nees,) My Friend, Vill our Trou-bles ne'er have an end? Fait dis is a sad Skeal! * 1.93 Arroon! Saint Patrick Joy! fat's de rea-soon. Some Devil sure is in the Weend, Or else indeed Saint Patrick's bleend: Or is a * 1.94 Coshering, I dare bet; Ill Chaunce upon't, more Anger yet! Thus discontented march'd poor Nees, Still blaming unkind Destinies: Then crys, A Pox upon the Quean, Who, who the Devil she shou'd mean. At length, within a Mile or two, They heard the Irish Hub bub-boo;

Did tear the Woods, and rend the Skies, With doleful Echo's of their Cries.* 1.95 (t) 1.96 But when unto the Strand they came, Who shou'd they find, but poor Mac-shane; (u) 1.97 Kill'd basely by a sneezing Harper, Because his Pipes were shrill and sharper. Thô some, were present at his parting, Affirm it rather was for Farting. When with O Triton he'd compare, To Sound as good a Point-of-War. Who for his Ave's and his Beads, When he was dead, did leave three Heads Of Cattel unto Father * 1.98 Rory, To pray him out of Purgatory. Then put they up the Ʋlster-Shout, When poor Macshane was stretched out;

(w) 1.99 Macshane, as dead as any Sheep, The best that ever blow'd in Peep: A great Comrogue he was to Hector, And top't off many a Coge of Nectar: That us'd to go about for Masters, Sometimes for Drink, sometimes for Plasters: Of Musick-errant, 'tis the fate Sometimes, to have a broken Pate. Had he but liv'd that Life till now, He had been dead seven years ago. He dead, struck up with Gen'ral Nees, As good a Fellow, by this Cheese, In all his Bouts of Aale and Peer, And serv'd in place of his Pi-peer, At * 1.100 Coushers, Wakes; cou'd play † 1.101 Mageen, Whip off * 1.102 Dunboyn, and Dance a Myeen;

And Danc † 1.103 Balruddery. I that he Cou'd play † 1.104 Portlaughrin, and † 1.105 Bunratty; And * 1.106 Macklemone, so sweet, O dear, it Wou'd do a dead Cat good to hear it. Until this whiffling * 1.107 Tuffo-geer Must Challeng lofty Trumpit-teer; And did before O Triton Fart, For which he run him through the Heart, That fatal unexpected Stab, For poor Macshane did do his Job. As soon as Mac his Blood did spye, He cou'd not for his Life but die. * 1.108(y) 1.109 And therefore every one did weep, To see poor Mac so fast a-sleep. But chiefly Nees: Ho! Hub-bub-boo! Poor Nees, and all his Men may rue

De day dat dou vas dy! * 1.110 Arroon! Fat made it go away so soon, And leave dy Lands behind? I tro, Ill vas dy vont for doing so; To make a dy, and leave dy Plains, Dy Cows, dy Sheep, and dy * 1.111 Garrains. O Hone! Dear-Joy! Is poor Macshane Vill never blow de Peep again. O Hone! Macshane! Hub-bub-bub-boo! Il-lil-lil-lil-lil-lil-lil-loo! (z) 1.112 But seeing such a mighty throng Of Trees, bethought him of the Nun. Dear-Joy, if this * 1.113 Shamrogue shou'd prove By chance to grow in this same Grove; Shou'd Nees so luckily succeed, 'I would be Luck in a Bag indeed. And fait, fy mayn't it prove so too? All is not false dat she says true.

(a) 1.114 Scarce had he spake these words, when strait A Brace of Ducks appeard in sight. The Prince, as soon as he beheld His Mothers Brood, he quickly smel'd A Rat, by th' Feather in the Nose, And knew them by their Scarlet Hose: Which was a piece of Yellow Woollen, To know them from their Neighbours Pullen; Stitch'd with an artificial Peg, Like blue Sassoons about the Leg. (b) 1.115 Nees, joyful at the sight, did pray His Mother's Ducks to lead the way; In Grove so pester'd, that poor Nees Cou'd not see Wood for throng of Trees; So waddled after them as close As he cou'd follow for his Nose.

Thus hotly they pursu'd the Scent, Crambing their Gorges as they went; Until they cropt the very Weed, Where every day they us'd to feed. Nees, when the Shamrog he did spye, Cries out, I have it in my Eye, (c) 1.116 Is vid me fait. And so he run To bring the Present to the Nun. (d) 1.117 Mean while the Rout to work do fall,* 1.118 To Celebrate the Funeral. And first with Turff from Bog, and Blocks, They made a Fire wou'd roast an Oxe. Some lay the Pipkins on, and some With Holy-water bathe his Bum. There was the Priest forgiving Sins, Busie as Hen with two Chick-eens,

'Nointing his Forehead, and his Nose, And downwards to his Pettitoes; After the Method of his Function, With Holy Oyl of Extreme Unction. Which Office decently perform'd, The Guests, with Usquebagh well warm'd, (e) 1.119 They raise the Cry. And so they fout him Unto a Crate,* 1.120 to howl about him; Built without either Brick or Stone, Or Couples to lay Roof upon: With Wattlets unto Wattles ty'd, (Fixt in the ground on either side) Did like a shaded Arbour show, With Seats of Sods, and Roof of Straw. The Floor beneath with Rushes laid, stead of Tapestry; no Bed nor Bedstead;

No Posts, nor Bolts, nor Hinges in door, No Chimney, Kitchin, Hall, or Windor; But narrow Dormants stopt with Hay All night, and open in the day. On either side there was a door Extent from Roof unto the floor, Which they, like Hedg-hogs, stop with straw, Or open, as the Wind does blow: And tho they reach from top to floor, His Grace crept in upon all-four. Betwixt the door there was a spot I' th' middle, to hang o're the pot; And had an Engine in the nick, For pair of Tongues, a * 1.121 broken stick. I' th' presence was no stool, but one Old Creel, for Nees to sit upon: For all the rest, as they did come, Made Stools and Cushions of their Bum.

(f) 1.122 In this so rich and stately Cabbin, To lie in state came this Sea-Crab in, Dy'd for the nonce in liquid Sable, And laid him underneath the Table; Where in one end the parted Brother Was laid to rest, the Cows in t' other, With all his Followers and Kin, Who far and near came crowding in, With Hub-bub boos, besides what Cryers For greater state his Highness hires; Who all come crowding in; and in comes Monk Corin too, with all his Trinkums; Who when he had his Office paid, And for the Dead a while had pray'd, To their own Sports, (the Masses ended,) The Mourners now are recommended.

Some for their pastime count their Beads,* 1.123 Some scratch their Breech, some louse their Heads; Some sit and chat, some laugh, some weep; Some sing Cronans * 1.124, and some do sleep; Some pray, and with their prayers mix curses; Some Vermin pick, and some pick Purses; Some court, some scold, some blow, some puff, Some take Tobacco, some take Snuff; Some play the Trump, some trot the Hay, Some at Macham † 1.125, some Noddy play; With all the Games they can devise; And (when occasion serves 'em) Cries. Thus did they mix their grief and sorrow, Yesterday bury'd, kill'd to morrow; And (g) 1.126 mounted him upon a Beer; Through which the Wattles did appear;

Like Ribbs on either side made fast, With a * 1.127 White Velvet over-cast: So poor Macshane, Good rost his Shoul, Was after put him in a hole; In which, with many sighs and scrietches, They throw his Trouses and his Breeches; And tattar'd Brogue was after throw, With a new heel-piece on the toe; And Stockins Fine as Friez to feel, Worn out with praying at the heel; And in his mouth, 'gainst he took Wherry, Dropt a * 1.128 white Groat to pay the Ferry. Thus did they make this last hard shift, To furnish him for a dead lift. Last having done his Ave Mary's, And all his Drollans ‖ 1.129 and Boldaries,

The Priest, Father (h) 1.130 O Corin, gi's'em His Blessing too; calls for the Besom, Which dipt in Salt and Holy Water, He does their Coxcombs all bespatter; And while they for the Blessing stickle, Did leave them all in sacred pickle. (i) 1.131 The Prince, as yet not half content, Did build a larger Monument; O're which he carv'd about the middle The Bagpipes Rampant on a Fiddle. So fare thee well, since thou art gone; * 1.132 The loss of Two is less than One. (k) 1.133 And so unto the Nun he packs on, To put in suit his former Action.

Here first the Prince, who lov'd good cheer, And Shela make a sad mur-deer On Pigs,* 1.134 and Geese, and Hogs, and Styes, To offer up a Sacrifice. (l) 1.135 Four milk black Sheep, ta'n from the Fold, And Yearlings three or four year old, With Hide and Horns, and Guts and all, Thrust on a Tree, and roasted whole; Which, with their Durgins and Madoges * 1.136, They cut upon their greasie Brogues For Trenchers, and did wipe their Brushes With Napkins wove of Shags and Rushes. Betwixt this Cosher, * 1.137 and the Nun, The night was spent, and day begun: As when a Turf does blaze and burn, So sprightly did the morning turn,

From a successive Black to White, Like a new burnt Tobacco-pipe. Where scarce had they their Mattins don, When an Enchantment struck the Nun With sudden Meagrim; and Nees feigns H' had got a Gamshoge * 1.138 in his Brains; (m) 1.139 Where all the Wolves, and Barking Crew Of Dogs, put up the Hub-bub-boo; Which scar'd the Prince, until the Nun, More valiant, made them hold their tongue. (n) 1.140 Get out, I say, of this same Lake, you, You wicked wretches, or I'll make you: Out, out, you Cuckold's Currs; what, Pox! Are we a Company for Shocks? (o) 1.141 Now Nees, if thou to brave thy Fate, Has but the Soul of a dead Cat,

Now, now look big, and cock thy Beard: St. Colom! Is the Prince afear'd? Draw, draw thy Madog, says the Elf, And now or never shew thy self: Now is the word, Nees, Now or Never; And do it Now, 'tis done for Ever. Now prove thy self a Man or Mouse, Or all our Do's not worth a Louse. (p) 1.142 So, mad to go they knew not whither, They shot the Stygian Gulph together; She first, and Nees did overtake her Before his Highness could come at her. But here the Nun, before she leads Him further, falls unto her Beads; For she had still (the subtle Fiend,) Her Prayers upon her fingers end,

Or hanging round her Waste, like Locket, Which now at last return'd to pocket. And so when she had done her Graces,* 1.143 Her Cosras, Oras, and her Masses, Her Aves, Beads, and all the Ce∣Remonies of the Tenebrae; (q) 1.144 And invocated every Spirit, That in those Regions did inherit; And all the Saints from great 1 1.145 St. Patrick, 2 1.146 Kenny, and 3 1.147 Queran, and 4 1.148 Beatrick, 5 1.149 Cowgal, and 6 1.150 Colom, 7 1.151 Bohineoge, 8 1.152 Mauchey, and 9 1.153 Maule, and 10 1.154 Mauchevoge, 11 1.155 Shincheal, and 12 1.156 Shinkan, and 13 1.157 O Suan, 14 1.158 Brandon of Byrr, and 15 1.159 Colm O Crowan,

And 16 1.160 Colomkill, and 17 1.161 Phelimback, And 18 1.162 Gillarnoo, and all the pack; She ceas'd: Nor was there to be found, Either above or under ground, In all the Registry, not one That she forgot to call upon, To guide her, and her pretty Page, In Subterranean Pilgrimage. And thus equipt, they take their Flight, Without a Link, in a dark Night; Both fumbling in the dark together, Tho neither knew which way, nor whither; Groaping the Air with * 1.163 Bat, and paws, So dark, they cou'd not feel their Nose. Now He, now sometimes She did follow; And sometimes they were forc'd to hollow.

(r) 1.164 But when they had approach'd the door,* 1.165 They're in worse pickle than before: There was the Hub-bub-boo, and rack Of Dear Joys, a disbanded pack: Sorrow and Tears, Hunger and Cold,* 1.166 And Sleep and Death, beneath the Hold; Discord and Priest-Adultery, And Fear, and Care, and Jealousie; And every Cheater and Impostor, With Thief and Tory there did foster. (s) 1.167 About the middle grew a Tree, A Nest of Lies and Forgery: Romances and Old Womans Story Fill'd the first Page of Purgatory;* 1.168 And Miracles of Priest and Monk Do in this Pound lye all defunct.

(t) 1.169 Legends and Reliques, Simonies, False Witnesses and Perjuries; Vain Promises of Catholicks, Oblig'd to break with Hereticks. All Arbitrary close Intrigues Of Monarch, and illegal Leagues. Indulgence and Equivocation, Penance, and Mental Reservation. And here was cramb'd, among the Skulls, Infallibility and Bulls. With other Wonders here did Nees Spy; Entities, Heccieties, Rationis Ens; and there did lie Ʋniversale à parte Rei. Teague over-reach'd by the Monsieur, With Vout tres humble Serviteur.

(u) 1.170 And bloody War will ne're have its end, Enough to put them to their Wits end. Here Nees, poor Nees, half scar'd to death, Forc'd Bilbo from unwilling sheath; And with a sort of Desperation, (The Courage of that War-like Nation,) (w) 1.171 Fell foul upon the Shades, and dashes Their Brains with unresisted slashes. Here had not Shela held the Squire, Warning the Spirits to retire, And made 'em vanish great and small, No doubt he wou'd have kill'd 'em all: For he did curse and damn, he wou'd Be * 1.172 frapping of 'em while he stood. (x) 1.173 A Hut there was, fenc'd with a Wood,* 1.174 Trench'd with a Mote, and pav'd with Mud;

Where lodg'd in State the Ferry-Groom, Mac-Murreartagh (y) 1.175 O Cha-roon; Like Woodkern drest in Yellow Stuff,* 1.176 And Trouses made of Blanket proof; A Satyr's Beard; and on his Head He wore a Scollopt read * 1.177 Burrede; His † 1.178 Glibbs hung down like Tails of Rats, His ‖ 1.179 Goggles flam'd like Eyes of Cats: (z) 1.180 Where there was neither * 1.181 Crisp nor Curl, The very But-end of a Churl▪ (a) 1.182 His Mantle made of Blew Scar-leet, Which reach'd almost unto his Feet, He with a Wattle Twist had ty'd, With Knot from Shoulder unto Side: About his well-set Legs he drew Stockins, a pair of Mazareen-Blue,

Turn'd in-side out, a shift in need, To stop the Holes on t' other * 1.183 sheed; A Dish-clout round his Neck was hung, And wore his Brogue upon his Tongue: For Tongue a Brogue supply'd the Strain; And yet he had more Tongue than Brain. (b) 1.184 And in this manner he transported All Customers that there resorted; Both Rogues, and Thieves, and VVhores, and Jades; All sort of Devils, except Trades.* 1.185 (c) 1.186 VVhere you might see the Spirits fly As swift as Atoms in the Sky: Others, to gain the Banks do strive, In Swarms, like Bees about an Hive; As thick as Hops they crowd and hover, Expecting who shall first get over.

But he, the Churlish Cur, to ease Their hearts, will do but what he please: Some he takes in, and some he knocks VVith his * 1.187 Goadeen from off the Rocks. VVhat strugling there was there? O Lord, Sir! VVhat work was there to be a-Boord Sir? (d) 1.188 Nees at the Clatter making wonder, VVas mad the Business to stand under; And catching her by the Plac-kete, Says, (My Dear Joy) fat's de Rac-kete, Or fat a Devil here ado's? Is Hell indeed ybroke it loos? How comes it thus, says he, about, Some are took in, and some thrust out? Some hop upon de Water, and Some swim on Ditches, and dry Land?

(e) 1.189 Nees (she replies), my Duck and Dear∣ing, Cast a Sheeps Eye upon * 1.190 Lough Erin, Whose Flouds to a Whetstone turn a Block∣head: And judg hereby if I do mock it. Those Souls you see, are dead; Car-roon, That owns the Ferry, is the Loon; Those that to be transported strive, Have bury'd been dead or alive: But for the rest, that want a Burial,* 1.191 May wander here till they are weary all, And fast a Thousand Lents, before he Can have the Grace of Purgatory. While he was gazing round about, Wh' a Pox shou'd drop into his Mout,

But old Sir Loughlin Lucas, who ran From Portsmouth-Bay, with Derby Oram, When the sad storm did fall upon 'em, And one of the two both did drown 'em. Forty gay Officers beside, Lost with the Ship for want of Guide. Here Nees was in a horrid pain, To know Sir Loughlin's▪Christen'd Name; And whisper'd Shela in the Ee, Who swore she knew no more than he. (f) 1.192 With these was Palinure, the Swabber, Drown'd in a Sea of Bannae-clabber. Nees, in a maze, cry'd, Palinure, Dear Joy; and art thou dead for sure? Fat Devil vast took dee from me? Had I no Rogue to loose but dee?

And be dis is a sorry Skeal. Not so, Nees, but de ‖ 1.193 bleend (g) 1.194 * 1.195 Pad-dele, On sudden vas be overbore me, And made me throw my Face before me. But by dis Flood, and Fate and Trote, And by de pleasant Hill of * 1.196 Hote, My Care when dou vas on dat shelf, Vas more for dee, den for my self; Left all alone to guide de Cot, For fear dy self shou'd go to pot. Three Irish Nights in Cold and Frost, Upon de * 1.197 Curtlaughs I vas tost, Till making to a little flash, Expecting there a Landing Plaace, A Crew of English, Dutchland Knaves, Vas break my Face in two three halves,

And vid a Monmouth * 1.198 Symi-teer, Vas cut my Head from my Shouldeer: Which I indeed of Death in speet, Bore through de vater in my Teet. Riding full post when I was dead, To Dublin Bay from * 1.199 Malaheed. And now de Head and Carcass bleed, Ten times kill'd over since indeed. Derefore (Dear Joy) to have no Grave, Is all de favour dat I crave; To do so much for a poor Soul, (h) 1.200 To throw my Carcass in a hole; For Nees (say he), if thou vill meend it, Amongst the Curtlaghs dou vill seend it; Where it does lye in safe Cust-ody, No flesh alive, but the dead Body.

(i) 1.201 And, dear Joy Vench, for Nees's sake, Help me to trot the Donny-Lake; Dat my poor Soul may prick his Ears, And rest in peace with my Fa-deers. How, Palinure, (reply'd the Scold) 'Twixt me and * 1.202 Good, thou art too bold: Wou'dst thou pretend to be a Spirit, And go to Hell e're thou art bury'd? No, no; do not mistake thy self, The Devil is no such silly Elf. But I will tell thee for thy Comfort, Wee'll search thy Carcass out in some Port: If it from th' * 1.203 Snigs we can retrieve, Or Crows han't bury'd thee aleeve; (k) 1.204 And raise a Tomb shall still endure The Name of honest * 1.205 Palinure.

(l) 1.206 Thus being appeas'd, they move their Station Towards the Confines of Purgation. The Ferry-man, that kept the Port, Perceiving such a strange Resort, Of Monsters, making t'wards the Strand, Cry'd out in War-like manner, Stand: Who, who comes dat? Stand, who comes dat? Or vid my Pike I'll fire dy Pate. (m) 1.207 Believe me, ho, who e're appears. Thus armed to 'sault our Quar-teers; You shall not pass, until I know A Reason why you shall or no. Therefore to shun a farther ill, Stand off, I say, at your per••ll:

This place is for a legless Crew, And not such o're-grown Calves as you: Nor can our Wherry bear such Loobies; I deal with Shadows, not such Boobies. (n) 1.208 Nor truly did they fare so well, The Tories that came last to Hell, O Sheil, Mac Teage, and Owen Roe, Tho they were Gentlemen, you know:* 1.209 And sure you cannot choose but hear What hurly-burly they made there; How they were like to beat the Porter; Broke up the Doors to take free Quarter: And then, forsooth, 'tis in our Hist'ries, Nothing wou'd serve 'em but my Mistress; Rummag'd the Buttery, and the Spence, And ravish'd the poor Kitchin-wench.

The Tories plaid the Devil i' th' shape, Of Plunder, Burglary, and Rape: To save the House was all our fears, From being fir'd about our Ears. (o) 1.210 Hold, hold! My Ears thou'rt after grateing; I prithee (Dear Joy) peace thy prating, Says Shela; dost thou think that we To go to Hell need Policy? (p) 1.211 But honest Nees, well-known for leading An Army off, and eke for Beading, Only to see his Sire, his Highness Comes out of meer stark Love and Kindness, To get disarm'd off all his Glory, A Colonel's place in Purgatory.

(q) 1.212 If all those Charms cannot prevail, I'll shew thee yet a better Tail; A Tail it is, contains such matter, Wou'd make thy very Teeth to water: Dost thou see this? Thou simple Ass, Dost think I come without my Pass? So pulling out her Three-leav'd Blossom, Which lay as close as Louse in Bosom, Crys out, Do you see this, you damn'd Rogue? He crost himself to see the Shamrogue; Turn'd up his Whites, but cou'd not vent One word, for very wonderment. Vill dou see dis? Vere are dy Ears? Do's tink dat Lees have no Beg-geers? And now no Tanks unto your Brogue-a, Ve vill go o're vid dis Shamroge-a.

Ill Smell upon dee, and dy Pink, Dou art a Guddinghang, I tink, Reply'd the Kern; and being pleas'd To see the Branch, his Fury ceas'd: As fast as he cou'd drive, took Paddle, And clapt his Bum into the Saddle. To serve the Prince, and make the Nun-room, He lath'd the Hould, and clear'd the Gun-room. (r) 1.213 Nees over-grown with Calves and Chins, And Guts as heavy as his sins, No sooner stept upon the Hatches, But every Plank and Cable retches; And had not Shela us'd a Spell, He had gone ne're t' have crack't the Shell, Throw which the Water strain'd did flow, As fast as Milk through wisp of straw.

(s) 1.214 Thus having past the Stygian Flood, He landed them upon the Mud; Half bury'd, half in water drown'd, Dawbing and wallowing in Lobb's Pound; Through Woods and Boggs, each step, poor Nees Above the Calf, and She her Knees: Bare-legg'd, bare-footed, and bare-thigh'd, The Nymph made many a graceful stride. Her Coats about her Waste tuck't high,* 1.215 Her Smock advanc'd above her Thigh; Her Gown of finest Scarlet Freez, With Puddle-dirt above her Knees; Sultana like, on Water-Tabb, Instead of Lace, some call a Drabb: Her Smock Sultana'd with the same, Fit to array so spruce a Dame;

Hanging in Plates so thick and wide, Nees cou'd between, a Gallop ride: A Ready Artificial Mode, To stride more easie on the Road, Or sit at home at naked Rock, And do her Business in her Smock. To lug her Child out of the Water, (As he before had done his Father) She carries him upon her back; If he a Dram o'th' Bottle lack, Cou'd should'ring throw her Breasts behind, To suck as oft as he had 'mind: A Charity not rarely done; For there they suck at Forty One. Her Waste as slender as her Cows, With a White Kerchief on her Brows; Her brawny Calves, and Splay-foot bare, Her Thighs like moving-Pillars were;

And with an equal distance wide; So natural 'twas for her to stride. About her Ears her golden Main Hung down, like Pack-thread dy'd in Grain; Her Stockins twisted like an Harslet, She wore about her Neck for Bracelet; And as Antipodes, the Jade, Carry'd her Brogues upon her head: Their naked Trunks they thus expose, To save th' expence of Shooes and Hose. A penitential Voyage, and sory, They make to come to Purgatory. Here did that Monster first appear, That threefold headed Dog, (t) 1.216 Cer-beer; Stretch'd in the door, set up the howl, A Leash of Wolves were in his Jowl;

Until the Witch to get to Hell, Had cramb'd him with inchanted Spell. So being soop't with Ʋsquebagh, He went to sleep, They on their way; And enter (if you'l credit Story) The Magick Gates of Purgatory. (u) 1.217 The first place where the Ghosts did haunt 'em, The Ancients call'd,* 1.218 Limbus Infantum. Here they beheld a numerous Train Of Orphans in the Wars were slain; Some mounted upon Pikes, and some Torn from the dying Mothers Womb; With Embrio's, and prodigious Throngs Of Infants got by Priests and Nuns,

In Abbies, and in Monastries, And murder'd by the Votaries, To cloak a Venial Sin; to whom A Pit, or Privy was their Tomb; The Issue of the Bed defil'd, Honora's Bastard, * 1.219 Alsoon's Child. And here did Nees spy his poor Soldiers, Thrust in a hole by head and shoulders; Where they behind left both their Ears, For running from the K—'s Cool-Ieers: Some run the Gantlet in the Fields, Others with Gads ty'd Neck and Heels: Some mounted on the Wooden-Horse; And some with Hemp were mounted worse. Nor does this thing by Chance succeed, But as by th' Judges it is decreed: For by a Court of Clamper,* 1.220 'een As it is this day in Dub-leen;

I say, a Court of Clamper held In Hell it self; they are compell'd All to appear at the next Sessions, And there to make their true Confessions; Where Father Mine gives Absolution; Or else they're sent to Execution: For every one, amongst the Spirits, Takes place according to his Merits. * 1.221(w) 1.222 In the next Limbo he discovers A desperate Troop of whining Lovers; Who in their Melancholly Fits, For Madness, run out of their Wits. (x) 1.223 Amongst this Train he spy'd the Wid∣dow, His Old Acquaintance, Guddy Dido,

That pin'd to Death, (the fawning Strap) Some say for Love, some of a Clap; When from her Nees turn'd Helm a Larbour, To Anchor in false Jen—'s Harbour. Nees gliding at her through the Shade, Cast a Calve's Eye from a Sheep's Head: If I han't lost my little Senses, Sure, sure, says Nees, dis my old Vench is. (y) 1.224 But when he drew more nigh her Quarters, And knew her by her Straw-twist Garters, Up to her face he boldly went, And thus he made his Complement: (z) 1.225 Dear Dido! dou unlucky Jade, Ill chaunce upon dee, art dou dead? Take little sneezing for de King. But she reply'd, and said No-ting;

Minding no more his senseless Babling, Than if she were a Rock of * 1.226 Mablin. Sure, sure, says Nees, she does but jest, Dis of de Natures not the Beast; Pre-dee come here, my pretty Rogue, And give me de one little † 1.227 Poge, For Old Acquaintance; for it's dee, Dat is my only Cram-ma-cree. (a) 1.228 I pre-dee now, my dear Joy, stay; Vat Devil make it run away? She cannot hold one Touch, but itching, Is after be, to run a Bitching. Shall never pass so vid her Bears; Nees has not seen dese Tousand years. Let's sit, and smoke a Peep for pastime; (b) 1.229 A parting Kiss: Dis is de last Time.

Kiss me! phooo! Fart upon dee, Nees, Dou may as rader Kiss my Breech. And now I know dee for a Rogue, I scorn dee as Dirt of my Brogue. Belching an Oyster in her Fist, I care not dis for all dy grist. So fled as nimble as the Wind, (Bidding the Prince to kiss behind,) To Sichy, the old Cuckold nigh, Where she to Fish had other fry. (c) 1.230 Thus bawk'd, they march from Lovers Pound,* 1.231 Until they came to Champion Ground; Where they did camp with Sword and Shield, That lost their Lives in bloody Field; Their Heads cut in Three halves, e're they Cou'd have the time to run away.

Here Nees met Tedy, and Macarty, Scot, Dempsy, and Scolloge na Party, O Connor Bourk, and Owen Medon, Mackillacud, and Poul O Padon, And his Comrogues, so lately broken, Sent for the Devil to a Token: In Rank and File they all drew out, On every hand, to view the Lout. (d) 1.232 Nor is't enough they saw his Grace; Like Sots, but they must stand to gaze; Crowding about him all to hear, And learn what News in Shamrogsheer. They curst the Flemmings, and the French, But highly prais'd his Excellence, His Zeal and Conduct, (when the day Was lost, his Wit) to run away.

His Back no sooner turn'd, i'th' place But they abus'd him to his Face. But the poor Danes, and Red-Shank Rogues, As soon as they beheld his Brogues, And bloody Bionet draw near, Their * 1.233 Conny-holes did stink for fear: Some run away, and some did throng To speak, but cou'd not find a Tongue: For they resolved on't, they said, No-ting to say, when they were dead. So muzzled in inchanted Noose, They cou'd not to a Bo, say Goose. In Recompence of which dumb Show, All they cou'd have from Nees, was Ooo-gh. And now not thinking more than I am, Who shou'd he see, but young (e) 1.234 O ‖ 1.235 Priam.

So Clapperclaw'd, you'd think his Grace Had got an Ear-mark in his Face: His Face was broken in three halves, Patch'd o're with Plasters, and with Salves. Besides, his (f) 1.236 Ears were cut, and Locks, And (g) 1.237 Nose was eaten by the Pox. So simply look't poor Priam oge, So pepper'd was the Donny Shoge, That Nees, (for all his Cunning Pate) Cou'd scarce discern his Fellow-mate; But when he view'd his Couch of Straw, And found he was the Man he saw, He clapt his hands; but first he crost him, And thus he after did accost him: Dear Bryan oge, and is it you? Pox take you, Broder, How do you do?

What, Hell-Beast, art thou yet alive? Blood of the Kings! How dost thou thrive? My Shole and Be, I am as Joy To see dee, as a Cob, my Boy. Joy, vilt dou take a litile Snuff, For King and Queen? Joy, take enough: Or if dou'd rather smoak a Peep For de young Prince. Art dou asleep? With that he hit him such a Thump, As struck him flat upon his Rump, In point of Courtesie; and so Desired of his Grace to know, (h) 1.238 What Devil brought him to that Meen, To make him look so Shaggereen? Vat Traitor vas be so disloyal, To Coventry, the Blood of Royal?

(i) 1.239 Vat Guddihang durst be so bold? And fate and be, my self vas told, Ven dou vas after being dead, Vas make me break my heart in Deed; (k) 1.240 Den did poor Nees upon de Green, Put up for dee a dead Cof-feen, Vid Flags, and Scutcheons in a Crate, Built for de Prince to lye in State: (l) 1.241 Thrice did I raise the Hull-lil-loo! To save dee Shoule, but 'twou'd not do: (m) 1.242 For, fate, and be, my own Bro-deer, Altho I writ dee a Let-teer, Ven dou was dead, and turn'd to dust, (My own heart too vid sorrow burst) One word in Answer did not come, Son, Or a Green-Sod had been thy Tombstone.

(n) 1.243 God bless thee, Nees, said he; much Grace And Goodness light on that sweet Face: My dear Joy, thou hast don me all The Honour of a Funeral. But 'tis my Irish Luck indeed; Lacene, the Witch that made me bleed, (And forc'd me in this Pound to waver) These are the Tokens of her Favour. When the Dutch-Horse leapt o're the Wall, And made the Fort one Funeral; When wake, we found the Town a burning, And all our Throats cut in the Morning. (e)* 1.244 But prethee Nees, in sober sadness, What Dee'l possest thee with this Madness, That thou should'st leave thy stout Brigades, Thy Bannaclab, and thy Pottades,

Thy Cows, thy Sheep, and thy Garrans; Thy Slimbred, and thy good * 1.245 Stow-ans; Thy Woods and Bogs, and thy fat Soil, In Darkness here to toss and toil; In such a Malapert as this is,* 1.246 Where all our Fare is empty Dishes. What shou'd the Prince do here among us, Where's neither Brandy, nor Mundong us? All at Board-Wages, hard enough, Three-pence a Week to buy us Snuff: And, Faith, when we are paid together, We do not get that Three-pence neither. (p) 1.247 In this, and in such Nonsenee, they Did blunder out the live-long day; Till Night began to light her Matches, Putting on Vizard, and Black-patches;

And from a Goddess to a Witch, She Turn'd in a Trice as black as Gypsie; When she to rate 'em thus begun, What, Sirrahs! will you ne're have done? 'Sdeath! have I nothing else to do, But sit all day to stand to you? Full time it is we should be trudging, E're it be dark to seek a Lodging. Are we come here, says she, to sleep? (Laughing to see the Mawkins weep) No, Nees, this Irish Melancholly Will never do; forbear thy Folly: Or we may lose our selves in new ways: (q) 1.248 (For there was here a Cross of Two ways) But how to go the right way home, Nees knew no more than Pope of Rome; But Shela, who was read full well In all the Cavities of Hell,

Taking the Prince about the middle, The Mystery did soon unriddle. (r) 1.249 That on the Right, says she, before thee, Is the high Road to Purgatory; That on the Left's the beaten Road Unto the Devils Chief aboad; Which out of Favour he intends, And keeps it for his better Friends. You know it, (Sir) march on, I pray; You Goodman Two Brogues, that's your way. (s) 1.250 Nay, do not rage, reply'd the Prince; Have but a little patience, And if my Company's uneasie, I'm vanish'd in a Trice, to please ye. I go, I go, to fill the number Of those that never sleep nor slumber;

Confin'd into a little Cot, Where there is neither Pipe nor Pot: No Two Pence Ord'nary is here, As much as Frumaty-Cel-leer: Nay, not as much has Bryan oge, To put in's head, as one Shamroge. (t) 1.251 Vell, vell, said Nees, vat can be cur'd, Poor Bryan must not be endur'd: So clapping * 1.252 Pig-Tail in his Fist, They parting cry'd, and crying, kist. (u) 1.253 Nees, gaping round about him, spies Under the ground an Edifice, Surrounded with a Tripple Moat, Where Ducks and Geese cou'd walk a-float; And with impregnable Bastoons, And Counterscarps, and Demiloons;

Where they had planted Ashes tall, To stop the growing of the Wall: Of all appear'd above the ground, Not half a Foot was to be found, But Mud, and Sods, a Bridge to pass, And that was cover'd o're with Grass: (w) 1.254 A Gate there was of wondrous scope, On Wooden Bolts did shut and ope, To let in People as they throng, And keep 'em in when they were gone; Rough-cast with yellow Lime and Mortar, Where lay asleep the watchful Porter; A very fit and proper House, Sir, For such a worthy Guest to Cosher. Nees weary grown, and loth to budg, Took up his Quarters in the Lodg; Swearing he cou'd not part, not for his Own Leef, till he got* 1.255 Dough a Dorris.

With that the Porter brought 'em out A Meddar stopt with a clean Clout; Which tho 'twas reckon'd but a small one, Contain'd Three halfs of a whole Gallon. Come Wench (says Nees), Dram of the Bottle; With that, soak't off a whole half Pottle: She pledg'd him half, more modest, and he With Butter qualify'd the Brandy.* 1.256 (x) 1.257 Scarce had they drank, when they were scar'd With Horror, which the Frolick marr'd: For here they heard such Hull-lil-loo's, Such Scrietches, and such Hub-bub-boo's,* 1.258 With Iron Bolts each loaded Stamper, Ratling of Chains, and such a Clamper, Put Nees into such Panick Fears, His Brains were sunk into his Ears:

The little Remnant Nurse with Mout, Had left from sucking through his Snout; Which way of draining, does appear, Makes Wit so scarce in Shamrogeshire. (y) 1.259 Nees, shaking like an Aspin Leaf, Under her Coats flown for Relief, Crys, My Dear Joy, vat's here de heat? Shela, vat's mean dis sad Rack-ete, Dat, dat we cannot for de noise, Ve cannot for'em hear our Eyes? (z) 1.260 In Parables, mysterious Nun, T' inform his Highness thus begun; Altho the Prince her Learn'd Discourse, No more stoodunder than his Horse; Sometimes said, I, and sometimes No, When neither, salv'd it up with Ooo-gh.

(a) 1.261 Oh! Thou great Prince of Sheep and Cattel, That never yet turn'd Face to Battel; To run you thro' the Stygian Histories, There's very few discern these Mysteries: Yet for the Grace I have with Joaney, Queen of the † 1.262 Shoges, and my one Croney, I know as much (Nees) as another, But dare not tell't, were it my Brother: Yet if thou'rt curious to know, I'll strain a Point: Nees answer'd, Ooo-gh. I must not do't, and yet, said she, Tho we are Sworn to Secrecy; I'll tell it, Nees, tho I should hang: Was not Anchees, that † 1.263 Guddihang, My own Gos-sope, and thy own Mother, Did stand with me to twenty other?

Hold, hold, a little Joy, says Nees, Dere's yet a Crimsho on de Lees; Ere you begin,* 1.264 drink off your Ale, For Drink is shorter den your Tale. With that about went wodden Meddar, Till both were Drunk and slept together Under a † 1.265 Plad, which did extend Cross the long Hall, from end to end: On Litter lay'd, like Horse at Manger, Which serv'd for Family and Stranger. This was their Fare in Purgatory, But you, says Nees, forget your Story. Rouze up; Before we go abroad, I'le tell it Nees upon the Road. In such Discourse they march along, Then to her Tale she turn'd her Tongue.

(b) 1.266 The Guddihang, that ruleth all The Roast in Hell, is call'd Old Noll. Mac Rhadamanth, a furious Devil, Severe Revenger of all Evil: Tho some Nick-name him † 1.267 Old Scollogue, Others do call him † 1.268 Robbin-oge. (c) 1.269 He is the Prince of all this Province, Abbot of the Infernal Covents; If he but catch you in his Nabb, Will make thy Dock squirt Bannaclab;* 1.270 For every slip will lay † 1.271 a Wolt, And strong * 1.272 Mus-tard for every fault; For all thy Roguery and Tricks, And play the Devil on two Sticks. I wou'd not be in his Condition, That dares call Penance, Superstition;

Keeps Sundays, and Revileth Mass-days, Eats Fish on Feasts, or Flesh on Fast-days; Of Saints and Images speak slightly, Fears not the Priest more than th' Almighty: Who Merit slights, nor hopes Salvation, In Works of Superarrogation. These are Offences High and Menial; But all the rest, said she, are Venial, And bring no guilt upon a Nation, As Murders, Plots, and Fornication. (d) 1.273 And now with horrid Noise,* 1.274 which no Pen Can e're describe, the Doors did open; As if all † 1.275 Lusk and Cannought too, Were joyn'd in one loud Hub-bub-boo. See'st thou that Monster with the Tail, That ugly Monaghan † 1.276 Spanci-all,

The worst of all the Devils? Within Are worse a thousand times than him. (e) 1.277 And Hell it self from this same Brink, Is distant twice as far you'd think: † 1.278 As Phelim Ghe Medlona, from The lowest Valley of the † 1.279 Crom. (f) 1.280 Here did the ancient Danes Retreat in, And all the Giants make their Seating. Haco, Storater, and Bastollenon, The old O Ruan, and O Collenon; Whose Tombstone was (as it is sung) Three hundred twenty two Foot long. And there was Osker, great Mac Osin, Who was to great O Fin near Cousin: His Fathers-Brothers-Uncles Bard, Call'd for that cause, his own Bas-tard.

Chastis'd with Whips, (a woful story,) Against Nassau, for turning Tory; With great (g) 1.281 O Salmon, a sad sight he, Who wou'd be Mac, and O Almighty: Insulting o're the petty Rabble, Till he was met byth' Cones-table. From all his Haughtiness was slur'd, And fell at last into a T— Even to a Spanlong, from a stride, For Fall at last will have a Pride. And here was that prodigious Tooll, That Monstrous Giant, † 1.282 Finn Mac-Heuyle; Whose Carcass bury'd in the Meadows, (h) 1.283 Took up nine Acres of Pottados: Nees cou'd not find out, shoud he Rake Hell, And skim the Dee'l, such a Mi-racle.

(i) 1.284 What shou'd I talk of † 1.285 Oma Loughlin, Dermot O † 1.286 Roirk, † 1.287 Perish O Coughlin? That it wou'd grieve thy Guts, I'm sure, To feel what Penance they endure. Under their Head there hangs a Skein, Ready to drop into their Brain; (k) 1.288 Over their Nose prepared lies A sumptuous Banquet of great price. Pottados, and a Spole of Pork, Where Nees long'd sore to be at work; Opsters, and Loysters; A Gam-moon,* 1.289 And Ham of yellow fat Ba-coon. And Butter to eat with their Hog, Was seven years buryed in a Bog; Enough for three full second Courses: And tho' they Stomacks had like Horses,

As Ravenous as Mountain-Bears, They durst not touch it for their Ears. Often they labour to Inclose, But still fall short, length of their Nose: For if they offer but to stir'em, There is a Fury ready for'em; (l) 1.290 A little Devil, that does watch 'em, Wou'd claw their Jackets, if she catch 'em; And always has her Rods in pickle, If they presume, their Ribs to tickle: And be 'tis very hard, said Nees, To be so tempted by dis Chees; To be invited to de Host, And den be beaten by de Rost; Now had I as leeve nor a groat, I had de † 1.291 Callagh by de Throat:

Dat I might teach her Irish Breeding▪ That is good, Hospitable Feeding. For when Nees spy'd the Dishes, he Had like to have strain'd his Modesty; Yet he of Manners wou'd make show, But cou'd not for his Guts tell how. And was Resolv'd, as a Sol-deer, To make each place his free Quar-teer; But scratching of his Head at last, Found 'twas unluckily a Fast! For Nees of Knowledge had no Lack, Had in his Guts an Almanack. Knew by the Motion of the Sun, When 'twas a Fast, and when 'twas none; And now (a Pox on all ill Luck,) The Fast in Nees's Stomach stuck; But being Hungry both, and Dry, (For Law has no necessity.)

And since his Hunger could not well Digest with Complements in Hell, Clapping his Hand on Basket-hilt, With fury as he were to Tilt; In mighty▪ Rage, swore by that Book, He'd have it, or by Hook or Crook: And what shift (think you) made the Lorance, But slily to pretend Ig-norance; For Ignorance the Gods appeases, A Soveraign Cure for all Diseases. The tender Mother of Devotion, Which Project, Nees, did put in Motion, That she would favour her own Shiled,* 1.292 And o're a lame Dog help the Stile; Who without Priest or Dispensation, Salves all with Mental Reservation; And this the substance was o'th' Plot, To Eat, and then say, he forgot.

Nees fell on Ham; then cry'd, a Gray, Shela (dear Joy,) fat day's to day? And be I do deserve a Beating; For fate, I tink, I'm after Eating. (m) 1.293 I am undone! Il-lil-lil-loo! I am undone! What shall I do? Oh Nees! Thou art a wicked Liver, I am undone, disgrac'd for ever. Now for this Trick, Hunger and Cold Be thy Reward, to be so bold; The Pope can't Absolution give, Eat Flesh upon St. Patricks Eve! † 1.294 Spereen upon thy Fathers Brood, And may it never do thee good, † 1.295 Be Death, without a Priest, thy Doom, And no Dog howl upon thy Tomb.

Say on dy Padreen, till dou Burst, De Fox fares better Vhen hee's Curst; And now (says he) I see my Fare, De Devil take me, if I spare; For over Boot, fate over Shoo; And so in Earnest he fell too, For Chair, upon a Pannier set, For all was Fish came to his Net. Shela, that by this time grew dry, With Cursing Nees, and Progeny, Spying a whole Churn on the Tilt, More then half fill'd with Butter-Milk; Got up the † 1.296 Cunnoge to her Knee, And took a Dose for Company; But of the Butter would not tast, 'Cause (as you heard) it was a Fast. Here Nees to shew that he was free, And given to Hospitallity,

('Cause he one scrape had not left more,) Order'd the Fragments to the Poor. (n) 1.297 Here lodg'd a pack of envious Brothers,* 1.298 And Sons of Whores, that beat their Mothers; With cheating Lawyers, here spy'd Nees, Who Rob their Clients of their Fees: Test-Breakers, and Law-Dispensators, And Corporation Regulators; Who more unconstant than the Tide, For Interest, change from Side to Side. A throng, amongst these Temporizers, He finds of Usurers and Misers; Who cark and care, to leave it all To Fools, to Piss against the Wall. Whore-mongers, and old Fornicators Slain in Adultery, and Traytors,

Who rush into unlawful Battle, And Steal their Landlords Sheep and Cattle: To make their Penance, here are fain, And get their Pen'worth for their pain. (o) 1.299 It is but needless to Importune, To know the difference of their Fortune; Some grind the Quern,* 1.300 and never part it; Some hang on Trees, and some are Carted. The Maids beat Hemp, the Boys twist Gads, Some High-way Rogues, and some Dog-Pads; Snuff-Stealers, Geese, and Hen-roost divers, Sheep-Nappers some, and some Hog-Drivers. Where each one had, as they did try 'em, Their Sentence suited to their Crime. Some Burnt i'th' Hand, and some serv'd worse, For Stealing Mother of the Horse.* 1.301

The Rebels, Tories, and such Rogues, That Dy'd untimely in their Brogues, In Hell are ty'd up from their Meat, No bit to Drink, nor drop to Eat. That silly Rogue, for hopes of Gain, Burnt a Cravat of Point Lorr••in, Because his Lady made a brace Of Cobbs, by burning Silver Lace. That Mawkin there hangs by the Head, For picking Paint off Ginger-bread; And lies expos'd to Wind and Weather, Extracting Gold from Gilded Leather. This on the Pill'ry lost his Breath, With Eggs and Turnips ston'd to Death. That Guddihang lost both his Ears, Penance for Gutting the Oys-teers: This Fool his Letter Six-pence cost, To save the charge of Penny-Post▪

This dropt his Candles in the Mire, And after dry'd 'em at the Fire; And many suffer in these Pounds, For passing Half-pence for Half-Crowns. Where Thesy sits, the saddest Soul That ever † 1.302 yelpt in Wooden Bowl, Crying (in sort of scornful Laughter,) Learn better Manners, then, hereafter. (p) 1.303 I'll teach you Monaghans to tell, And know St. Patrick from Tom Bell. (q) 1.304 That Lawless Prince, a Captive lies, (Ready for spite, to eat his Eyes) Did sell our Country for a Spell, And now makes Penace for't in Hell: He broke our Heads, and for a Paister, Did place upon us a harsh Master.

One Tyrant brought into disgrace, And put a Greater in his place. He by a sinister Intreague, Did, with his Country, sell poor Teague Eternal Slave to the Monsieur, As he had lost Two Farms before. Made Laws, and Vows, and Promises, And broke 'em all, to break poor Nees. (r) 1.305 That Fornicator Teague O Raughter, Did Trip a Dance with his own Daughter, And joyn'd his Giblets, against all The Laws Ecclesiastical. (s) 1.306 But if I had a Thousand † 1.307 Brogues, I could not Name thee all the Rogues; Nor beat into thy addle Brains, Their various Punishments and Pains.

(t) 1.308 Thus said the Nun, when she no more Cou'd find to say, she then gave o're; Exhorting Nees to rise his sitting, Observe his hits, and mind his knitting; And stir his Lazy Stumps apace, To give the Present to her Grace. Nees by this time (the Board made clean,) Began to buckle on his † 1.309 skein; And ready to attend the Nun, Took † 1.310 Dough an Olt, and so trudg'd on. (u) 1.311 Thus gorg'd, they foot it both together, Throw Glin and Corough, God knows whither; Till at the Cabbin they arriv'd, So richly for the Queen contriv'd;

There was i'th' Porch a Font of Water, Wherewith Nees did his Chops bespatter. Then with a Prayer, which he did say, Profoundly blest for the whole day; He fell a fumbling for the Posies, Which strait Transplanting, from his † 1.312 Trousies; With Courtesy and Eloquence, (Becoming so Renown'd a Prince:) Crys, Take your Present for a Whore, So (w) 1.313 threw the Shamrog in the door. For gifts, (not staying the unlocking,) Like Irish, enter without Knocking; (x) 1.314 This done,* 1.315 about the Coasts he beats Of the † 1.316 gay Woods, and happy Seats:

With Christal Springs, and now they water'em Upon the Banks of Limbo Patrum. Where Nees no sooner had set Footing, But, over-joy'd, he fell a Hooting; So proud he Stalk'd, upon the sudden, Nees hardly knew the Ground he stood on: And of his Senses half bereaven, Swore a great Oath, he was in Heaven. Wandring till now, without a Spark, Groaping for Shela in the Dark; So late Redeem'd from smoaky Huts, Their Eyes were dazled with the Sluts; For here the Old † 1.317 Sculloques were all (y) 1.318 In a large Field as warm as Wooll; And had (exempted from our Cares,) (z) 1.319 Their own, both Sun, and Moon, and Stars.

A Slut supplies the place of Candle, In Socket of split Deal, for Handle: With Rushes steept in Kitchin-Scurf, And stuck in Candlestick of Turf: And Fire enough to Tost their Nose. Some Exercise, and some Repose; On Rushes some, and some on Pallets; Some Vermin pick, and some pick Sallets: Some pace the Whip, some trot the † 1.320 Hay, Some at their Beads, and some (a) 1.321 at play. Have you, in the gay Town of Lusk, Observ'd their Sports about the Dusk Of Patrons-Eve, when all the Rout Of Raggamuffins flock about; Men, Maids, and Children, Dogs and all, To Celebrate the Festival;

So were they here assembled from Each Corner of the Nation; some Of every Rank, and had the Rogues (b) 1.322 A Thousand merry gay † 1.323 Gamshogues. The Old Men play'd at Blindman-Buff, Some Roast Pottados, some grind Snuff: At five Cards some, some wipe out scores At One and Thirty, and All-Fours. The Priests that Lodge upon this Common, Do play at Irish, and Bac-Gammon; For Prayers, for Kisses, and for Beads, For Masses, and for Maiden-heads: The Lay-men Box, and Fight, and Wrestle; And some make Ropes of Twisted † 1.324 Hasle. (c) 1.325 Some Trip a Dance upon the Grass, And every † 1.326 Culleen has his Lass:

All Excercised, great and small, All at some Game, and some at all: For all were Gentlemen that play'd, Not any one that had a † 1.327 Trade. E're in Mechanicks Teague wou'd Toil, He'd run for sixpence forty Mile. (d) 1.328 There was O Threicy, with Old Darcy, Playing all Weathers at the Clarsey: The Irish Harp, whose rusty Mettle, Sounds like the patching of a Kettle. * 1.329 Mageen, yea, and be he cou'd play, Lilly-Boleer, Bulleen a la; Skipping of * 1.330 Gort, tripping of Swords, Frisk of Baldoil best he affords: And for Variety Cronaans, Ports † 1.331 and Portrinkes, † 1.332 and Strin-kans.

They had no Anthems for to Chuse, Their Hallelujes, were Hull-lil-loos: And so as merry as the day Is long, they past the Time away: (e) 1.333 Here did the Antient Heroes grace The Warriers of former days.* 1.334 1 1.335 Heber, and Hereman, 2 1.336 Nynvillagh, 3 1.337 Twathy de Dane, and 4 1.338 Neil, Noyhillagh, 5 1.339 Eoghy O Finn, and 6 1.340 Cahir Moro, 7 1.341 Con Kedcagh, yea and 8 1.342 Bryan Boro, 9 1.343 And great (f) 1.344 O Mile, that was the first Of all our Nation, here was thrust:

Was Nees great Wonder make on a'me, To see the Rebels look so tame. Stalking about the Bogs and Moors, Together with their Dogs and Whores; Without a Rag, Trouses, or Brogues, Picking of Sorrel and Sham-rogues: Their war-like (g) 1.345 Horses grazing round about, And bloody Clubs fixt in the Ground about; That fertile Ground, where the tall Grass Did grow too fast upon the Place, Should you o're Night a Gelding turn in, You'd hardly find him the next Morning: For whatsoe're they fancy'd most, Thieving or War, the † 1.346 donny Ghost, Now they were dead, with the same Vigour, Did imitate in Mood and Figure.

Shela, as soon as she espy'd The Men and Horses by their side, Did swear she wou'd be after riding, And strait did mount the Saddle striding: Her Mill-posts, one, on either side In Gad, for Stirrup, she had ty'd. On t'other side a Rope † 1.347 Suggain, With Girt and Hoosings o're the Main; Bridle and Crupper too, where Nees Was got behind with bended Knees; Digging i'th' Flank, with a † 1.348 Spologue, In place of Spurs, stuck in his Brogue: Tho all that they cou'd do, cou'd not Put Dapple out of wonted Trot; For tho from hence they sought relief, Yet was the Jade not very † 1.349 brief, Nor very sure; for she was bleend, And lame of the fore-Leg beheend;

The better sure for that Disaster, Who cou'd not over-run her Master; And for her being Blind, they say, She had less blame to lose her way: T'her Feet sh'ad neither Shoes nor Clogs, The fitter then to trot the Bogs: Nor one Tooth left, she was so old, For that the wiser Nees was told. And glad he was, amongst the Colts, To take the Jade with all her Faults. In such an unfrequented Coast, Who gain'd some way by riding Post. Till the base Jade did let a Fart, Which made 'em light, and Cursing, part. To the next Limbo Nees did pack, Bearing his Saddle on his back; Cursing by Candle, Book, and Bell, The Mare was glad she scap'd so well;

For now a brace of Beggars mounted, To make the Proverb good, she counted; And hardly thought they'd been so civil, But rid directly to the Devil, (h) 1.350 Here round about the Mountain-Hogs, He saw them wallowing in the Bogs; Some at the Irish-Trot, some pacing, And some were with the Beasts a grazing: They drank a Health to th' Nations Glory, Singing old Rose, and Tory Rory: (i) 1.351 With Rhimes, Cronaans, and many a ga•• Tric•• In Adoration of Saint Patrick. (k) 1.352 Here all that fought in Vindication Of Shamrog-shire, made Habitation. The Champions of the Irish Cause, A numerous Train of Mac's and O's,

Whom the Monsieur, by treacherous Art, Had cram'd into this Malapert. Here Chaster Priests, and Fryars truckle, Who never made Confessant Cuckold: With Rimers here, had their Abodes; And Bards, who made their Patrons Gods, (l) 1.353 Where every one had on his Brow A Lawrell made of twisted Straw;* 1.354 Shela, (that now had got amongst 'em, And to be gone, thinking it longson,) Crys out, upon the sudden, you Rogues, (m) 1.355 Where is this Fellow, Goodmen two Brogues? She ask'd them round the Square with Nees, Where is this Guddihang, Anchees? (n) 1.356 But of † 1.357 Mack-Muse, above the Rest, Exalted by the Head and Crest.

To' his Stature, out of meer Regard, Made Captain of the Sable Guard. Nees, who with Gazing lost his Eyes, Thought him the fittest, to Advice: Till Shela, who was most intent, Thus past her Cloyster Complement. (o) 1.358 I prethee Joy, if thou hast Leasure, I beg thou wilt do me the Pleasure, To do the Grace, to do the Favour, To do the Kindness, for this Knave here, That we may see Anchees; the Lad Came only here to see his Dad. Since Soldiering will do no Grace, To get in Hell, an Evidence-Place; For his time moves, on Rusty Wheels, Much in the Elbows, out at Heels:

Which Loss his Highness wou'd Repair, By having Liberty to Swear; And thou wilt much oblige poor Nees, To shew him to the Plot-Of-fice: This favour Nees, and Shela Begs, For we are weary of our Legs. (p) 1.359 To which the tall Red-Beard Reply'd,* 1.360 Dear Joy, Thou comes on the Blind-side; For we have neither House nor Home, Nor any thing, to call our Own: But live like Flies, in Bogs and Bushes, And make our Beds on Banks of Rushes, Or at the Fire-side, where we Ly all, Hickelty-Pickelty. Nor has the most Notorious Tory, T' his humble Crate, one single Story:

Garret nor Stare-case (which is Sadder) To Climb up, on an † 1.361 English Ladder; Where one low Gate to the first Floor, Serves both for Chimney, and for Door: Dis is so like our Shamrog-sheer, Says Nees, Dou art my own Bro-deer. Sheet on de Hous vid two three Story, Give me de Vood for Tief and Tory; And be is Nees tink dis more Comely, For Home is Home, tho' nere so Homely: Cou'd I but see de Old † 1.362 Sculloge, Tho' he had neider Trous nor Brogue; But cast an Eye upon de Elf, Vhile my own Eye is vid my self; Let Nees be † 1.363 frapt, and suffer Rack, Be * 1.364 Spleee'd to Spoles, and damn'd as Black As † 1.365 Butter-milk, if ere I mean To Stray so far from Home again.

(q) 1.366 Nay, if your longing be so great, Mac-Muse, you shall no more intreat; (r) 1.367 Stride up with me this tall Moun-tain, And I will put you in the Lane: Thus said, the Neighbouring-Fields he shows, Bidding them follow on their Nose; And that wou'd lead 'em to the Place, Where they might soon behold his Grace. Nees, glad to hear o'th' Old Scull-oge, Did kiss his † 1.368 Tumb, and † 1.369 scrape a Brogue; Which done, scarce had he star'd about, When, as he said, it so fell out: (s) 1.370(t) 1.371 Here Musing lay Anchees the Guddi∣hang of a King, in a brown Studdy.

In a green-Arbour, reaping all His Kit, and Kin, both great and small; Their Hanging, and unlucky Fate, Were Maggots of his doating Pate: And their high Breeding, from the Fountains Of Art, the Woods, and Boggs and Mountains. (u) 1.372 But when he saw the Couple Posting, Throw the Green-Meddows to accost 'him; (w) 1.373 Clapping his hands, set up the Howl, For all his Gouts, a Joyfull Soul: To see 'em Trotting to'ards his Grace, And to his Legs he got a pace. Propt on his Staff, came Hops, and Jumps, Now on his hands, now on his Stumps;

And sometimes on all four did leap; For kind will go, when't cannot creep. Thus struggling, till at length he laid His Palsy Hands upon his Head; But so surpriz'd to see the Mawkin, (x) 1.374 He cou'd not speak one word for Talking: At which a Shower of Tears, as Proof Of further kindness mixt, with Snuff, Came Running down his Beard so pleasing, Which set his Gravity a Sneezing: At which the Nun did Cross her Face; And Nees did say, God save his Grace: This way his Passion finding Vent, The Youth he thus did Complement. (y) 1.375 And art thou come at last my Rogue? And all to see an Old Sculloge?

Art thou alive? see I thy Face, Is this thy Voice I hear? The Grace Of thy Discourse, able to turn To † 1.376 Bonnaclabber a whole Churn; I ever thought it wou'd be so Nees, And now thou'rt better than thy promise: (z) 1.377 But prethee, Nees, what part o'th' World Art thou come from? Whence art thou hurrl'd? Tell me (a) 1.378 (my Dear Joy) how goes Squares? And all the State of thy Affairs? Lest thou wast Hang'd, I Vow and Swear, Nees, I was in a pack of Fear. Whether by French, or Dutch thou fell, English or Scotch, I cou'd not tell; And therefore now I beg to tell, What Wind 'twas drove thee into Hell.

(b) 1.379 Good bless dee, Fader: Vill dou hear me, I'll tell it fat vas bring it dere me? Is dis vas make me in dis Place, Only to see dy own sweet Face: (c) 1.380 De Fleet on Curragh of Kilmore, Burnt by de Scotch upon de Shore. But now (Dear Joy) my own Fa-deer, Since me have met so lucky here; (d) 1.381 Give me dy Paw, and let us shake Our Hands, for old Acquaintance sake: So taking Snuff, he made wry Faces, (e) 1.382 And both together wept their Graces. (f) 1.383 Here Nees, with gentle Shoulder Shrug, Began to give the Irish-Hug.

Thrice did he fold his longing Arms, Thrice he in vain bestow'd his Charms; For the pale Ghost, without more ado, Did vanish like an empty Shadow: And flew as swift as any Bat, Before an Ear cou'd lick her Cat. Here in his Complement he faulter'd; For with Anchees the Case was alter'd; And tho' he was his next a Kin, What but the Cat can ye have o'th' Skin. (g) 1.384 Nees, in the mean, espi'd a Wood, That with a Bog surrounded stood; Planted with Pallaces of Pleasure, And Orchards rich with Irish-Treasure; Garlick, and Leeks, Pottado-Roots, With Bilberrys, and Hasle-Nuts.

(h) 1.385 Incompass'd with a River, where All Folks resorted far and near. Have you beheld, when people pray At Saint John's Well on Patron-day,* 1.386 By Charm of Priest and Miracle, To cure Diseases at this Well; The Valleys fill'd with Blind and Lame, And go as Limping as they came: Just so this Raggamuffin Rout, (Flocking an hundred Miles about) From every Pole and Chantlet run, As thick as Atoms in the Sun. (i) 1.387 The Prince at this began to stammer, And could not rest, the Ninnihammer, Until he knew a Reason why Those Troops about the Banks did ly;

And till Anchyses did deliver All the deep Mysteries of the River. (k) 1.388 Have you not heard of such a Man, (Says he) cou'd turn the Cat in Pan? That cou'd, to his Immortal Glory, Transform a Whig into a Tory? A Favourite make of a King-hater, And form a Jesuit of a Quaker? That valu'd not his Friends to lose 'em, And hug'd the Vipers in his Bosom: Cou'd turn a Monarch to a Mouse, Transform a Taylor to a Louse: And turn a Nation out of door, And turn himself out of Three more: That cou'd a Bullet, at his like, Anabaptize into a Pike;

Transform a Buzzard to a Bird, And turn a Custard to a T— And Wine to Water, (some say Piss,) And all by Met••mseuchosis. O-o-ogh (says Nees.) And be, I fear me; (I tink) dou'rt after ask to jear me. Hast thou not heard, thou simple Ass, Says he, of Old Pythagoras? And be, not I in all my Leef, I'le chance upon him for a Teef: Fere shou'd I hear of him, I tro, He was not born at Lusk— —Oh! no: But if thou wilt forbear thy Blunder, I will unriddle all the Wonder. (y) 1.389 Those Granadeers, that flock about From Hill to Plain since the last Rout,

The bloody Rout in † 1.390 Derry Battle, Drink Daries dry, and stroke the Cattle; Steal Sucklings, and thro' Key-holes sling, Topeing, and dancing in a Ring; Of Lethe take so large a Douse, And long Oblivion-Cups Carouze. Eternal Imps, that drink and sot, Till what they Are they have forgot: Their former Notions gone, the Fairies Transform to Rats and Mice in Dairies; As if this Body he should force To be transform'd into a Horse▪ I'm not thy Father as I was, But an irrational dull Ass; A very Mungrel of a Stallion, A Metamorphosed Fingallion. This I thought good to tell thee first, That thou may'st know the Devil's just.

Now to our Race, that thou may'st more Rejoyce, when all the Mischief's o're. (z) 1.391 Thus said, unto a Mount his Son He leads, together with the Nun. Where all the Woods and Valleys rung on'em, And plac'd him in the very throng on'em: That every one might flock to see, And know what News in Tripoly. (a) 1.392 Now to't, my Son, now comes the Story Of all thy Race, thy Nations Glory: The Kings that did, and hence shall shine, Descended from Mac Heber's Line; I'le read in History a short one, And eke declare thee all thy Fortune.

(b) 1.393 That Tory-Knave, cast but thy Eye on, (Fierce as a Wolf, bold as a Lyon) That leans upon his bloody Lance, He is the first begins the Dance: And by a Massacre shall rise out, To feed the Crows, shall pick his Eyes out; † 1.394 Phelim the Kern, began the Wars, Descended from the Highlanders; Born and bred up amongst the Woods, And savage as the Mountain Studs: By Lavin spawnd amongst the Bogs, To be a Rogue from Race of Rogues. The next deserves our Commendation,* 1.395 Is Bork, the Glory of our Nation; (c) 1.396 And young Enees, Mac Nees, the same Enees, that shall Restore thy Name:

The Wood-kern, Nees, (whom I'le maintain) as Egregious a Rogue in grain, as Is Nees himself; and, let me tell you, Will make as terrible a Fellow; If he to get can once prevail A Foot within the English Pale; The Desperado's how they run! And tempt the Fates to be undone! And tho' they've scarce an Ounce of Snuff, Yet will the Bully Ruffins huff. But those you see so richly drest, With Civil Horns upon their Crest; The Cuckold's Wreath, shall Crown 'em then, Are Citizens and Aldermen: With States-men, Chancellors, and Judges,† 1.397 On purpose chose to be our Drudges: Who Laws and Statutes shall Invent, To Work an Irish Settlement.

(d) 1.398 But e're a total Restauration Do heal the Ruptures of this Nation; In Britain shall a Monarch Reign, Will bring this Nation to the Wain; Whom Ilia shall in England bear, That shall extend his Scepter here; Who (by a Usurpation bold,) Shall lose his Land.* 1.399 Behold, behold, A double Crown Impales his Brow, Who was both King and Prophet too: In Heaven, whom Almighty Jove, Shall honour with a Crown above; (e) 1.400(f) 1.401 Who shall bequeath unto his Son, The Power of this Dominion;

(g) 1.402 In Moats and Walls, enclosing▪ then † 1.403 Seven Hills, possest with valiant men; As Virgin-Lady Crown'd does ride, Thro' Dublin-City, by whose side An hundred Gods, for Lackeys run, Lackeys, for * 1.404 Trades these Gods had none. Their chiefest work shall be their Sport, To breed Dissention at the Court; Where they shall never cease to flock, Till they have brought his Head to'th' Block. Thus shall he fall, and to his Son▪ He shall bequeath an empty Throne: (h) 1.405 Which e're he fills, must banisht, Toyl, For Laurels in a Foreign Soyl:

Thence, with Majestick Glory born, With greater Triumph shall return; Whose Restauration-Day, the Head Of Rump and Regicides do dread: And though poor Ireland hopes in vain, 'Twill ne're be Ours, while He does Reign. (i) 1.406 A Court of Claiming he shall call, Poor Teague again is out of All: His Claim rejected, and his Lands Restor'd into the English hands. Nor dare a Nocent-Rebel once stir, In Ʋlster, Connaught, Mead, or Munster; The Irish Glory so departed, And poor Enees so quite dead-hearted; That he has hardly left a Groat, To pay for cutting English-Throat.

The Hereticks shall sit at helm, And rule (while he does Reign) the Realm; Shall bear on Breast the Royal Stamp, All Offices in Court and Camp. So that poor Nees shall not be able, To put in for a Cones-table: But still to make his own Life easie, He shall do all he can to please ye; Who was, had he Teagues Cause maintain••d, The best of Kings that ever Reign'd. He dead, (k) 1.407 his Brother mounts the Throne, ••nd once more Ireland is our own. ••ie Petre now shall bear the sway, ••nd Popery shall come in play: ••e shall new model all the Nation, ••••om College unto Corporation:

To former plight he shall transplant us, By Mandats, Briefs, and Quo Warranto's. Gospel and Law shall trample o're, By a Supreme Dispensing Power: If any jealous Lord oppose it, Shall purge in Inquisition Closet; And by his Will, which is his Law, Shall keep the Hereticks in awe: In spite of Law, shall do his best To take off Penal, and the Test; And for the Freedom of our Nation, Shall make an Act of Toleration; Where all may have their Liberty To go to Hell as well as Thee. Shall turn the Nobles in disgrace, For Teague and Rory to make place; Turning, (Ill omen of his Fall) 'Till he himself turn out of all:

Of Promise-making-Kings the best, 'Till over-ridden by the Priest; Which turn'd the Helm into a † 1.408 Paddle And threw great J••••••s out of the Saddle. Wonders shall Chronicle his Reign, A Wilderness shall cross the Main. The Belgick-Lyon then shall keep From Roman Wolf the abandon'd Sheep. A Sun shall rise up in the West, That over-cast shall set i'th' East; Deserted by his chief Commanders, Frighted with Bear-skins, and Fin-landers; Shall, with the scampering Court withdrawn, Leave there an Abdicated Throne: When he has fixt his French Intrigue, Shall for protection fly to Teague: Where French and Irish Officers Shall fall together by the ears.

Monsieur shall fight, his Own to hold; Teague, to retrieve his Country sold: Till Frog and Mouse in bloody wrath, The Stork shall come and swallow both: The Belgian Stork without a stroke, (That Nests within the Royal Oak,) Shall drive the Locust from our shore, And name of Nees, shall be no more▪ But now our Forces overthrown, And Nees, with Abdicated, flown; On a new Sun fix both thine Eyes, Exalted in the British Skies: Who timely through the Tempest broke, An Orange grafted on the Oke. Whose Juice the English Hearts shall cheer, And shall diffuse it's Vertue here;(l) 1.409

Destroying Popish Priests and Steeple, And worst of Vermin here, the People: Where ere an Orange comes in place, Poor Nees shall make a sowre Face: In's Stomach stick, which to the rest Shall be a Cordial to digest. (m) 1.410 This, this is He, the War-like Prince, Heaven promis'd long in their Defence; Englands Augustus, who shall be The Subject of Chronology: Who, plac'd upon the British Throne, Shall make poor Nees to sing, O hone! (n) 1.411 Sent from Above; who shall restore The Dagon they so much adore.

(o) 1.412 The Golden Age of Liberty, From Yoke of Pagan Slavery; And rescue from th'impending shower Of Priest, and Arbitrary Power. (p) 1.413 His boundless Empire shall advance From larger Britain over France: Nor shall the Blacks, or Indian Shore, Set Limits to his Naval Power. (q) 1.414 Beyond the Seas, not far Remote, There lies a little Lowland Spot; In Farm from Neptune, which shall be Of this great Mars the Nursery. Thence, by a Solemn Invitation, Shall make a Second Reformation:

Who swifter Wing'd than flying Fame, And silent as the Night he came; Shall, without noise of Proclamation, Bring swift Deliverance to that Nation. Whose Amunition's like white Powder, Nor are his Publick Triumphs lowder; Which, wheresoe're the stroaks Rebound, Does Execution without Sound. Without a word bring home the Fleece Of Jason, or a Fleet to Greece. (s) 1.415 The Court, and many a Pagan Peer, With the lost Monarch sculk for fear; Who bleeds e're he Receives a Wound, Cares, Doubts, and Jealousies abound: Proud Modena, from Albion Banisht, Shall (with her young Impostor vanisht;)

Fly o're to France, to Shield her Honour By Him whose Counsels have undone her. The Holy Fathers and the Monks, Shall scour with their Religious Punks; Their Reliques, Crosses, Cowls and Fringes, Shall with our Church be off the Hinges: The Fools, who did not timely scower, Shall Plot in Newgate, and the Tower. (t) 1.416 Nor did Alcide e're undertake So great a Task for Virtues sake; Or half so much attempted he To set a Captive-Nation free, Tho' the swift Stag he did subdue, And with his Shaft the Hydra slew. Nor Bacchus, who joynt Tygers sent In Chains, from Nysa's steep Descent;

(u) 1.417 And shall we doubt such Vertue lacks Courage adequat to his Facts? (w) 1.418 Or fear diswade the Son of Jove, His Title to this Land to prove; Whose Conquest, in dispite of Foes, (Let Teague and Monsieur Interpose) This Government shall still retain, While Kings in British Isles do Raign? And now behold the petty Kings, That more remote this story sings; Who by Invasion, and strong hand, Shall play the Devil in this Land. But voe is dat same * 1.419 Cuckold born, (Says Nees) whose Head is stuck vid horne? (x) 1.420 And be I know de Culleen, fate, By his Red Beard, and Carret Pate:

Must he come in? so great a Rogue? Then every Day must have his Dog. This, says Anchyses, is the first, Shall Laws ordain t'encourage Lust? (y) 1.421 Advanc'd a King, the Beggers Brat, From a small Crate, and Garden-plat. Who of this Land the lazy Custom Shall break, and into Arms shall thrust 'em Those silly Troops, not us'd, God knows, So oft to Triumphs, as to Blows. (z) 1.422 The next of Valour, that gives proof, Mac-Ancy, a vain-glorious Huff; A swelling Bladder, since his Death, Blown with the Wind of popular Breath.

(a) 1.423 Wilt thou the Kings of (1) 1.424 Clonna-Mile Behold, that hence shall rule this Isle; The haughty mind, and all the Rout Of the Revengeful, (2) 1.425 de La Brute! The first that shall assume the power, With Tory Troops the Bogs to scower; And send an Army of Commanders, To fight the Britains, and Low-Landers: (b) 1.426 Behold the (3) 1.427 Decy's, far and near, And Drusye's in their Ranks appear; Mac-Tory-Quat, and Ensign Camill, With Madoge sharp, to cut off Mamill; Or strip the Infant from the VVomb, Lay'd with the Mother in one Tomb:(c) 1.428 (d) 1.429

Or spin their Guts out, being bound First to a Tree, and then whipt round: (e) 1.430 Nor shall in this their fury cease,* 1.431 Till they make Candles of their Grease: Stab, Hang, or Burn 'em, Damn, and Curse, Without Compassion, or Remorse: In Houses, Churches, or the Roads, To clear the Land of English Toads; Shall slay their Sheep,* 1.432 (the Fury Elves,) And burn their Barnes, to starve themselves: If but a Cow shall set up Tone In any Language but our own, As an Infringement of our Charter, They shall condemn to present Slaughter. (f) 1.433 VVhat Bloody Wars, what Dire Infections? VVhat Murders, Plots, and Insurrections;

Will these men cause, when cross the Ferry, They bend their Troops to London-Derry? Sending their fierce Battalions forth, Against the Rebels in the North? And then like a swift Inundation, Threaten the Scot with an Invasion. (g) 1.434 Boys! Boys! be not so hot to sin, And learn to sleep in a whole Skin. (h) 1.435 But thou thy Country-men mayst spare, Was Born thy self in Shamrogshire. The rest, Nees, throw thy Club at † 1.436 'ame, And make 'em run away for shame. (i) 1.437 He with his † 1.438 Provinder and Laggage, O're top of * 1.439 Ardes shall draw his Baggage. That Prodigal so fiercely stood, In the expence of British Blood.

(k) 1.440 He shall destroy the Norman Race, And all the English Lords displace. King — n himself shall melt his Wings, The war-like Off-spring of the Kings. Stout Bl — y too shall feel our Blows, Those Champions of the English Cause. Many, with Inch — n, shall fly To England, for a fresh supply. Their Goods Sequester'd and their Lands Restor'd into the Owners hands; (l) 1.441 To be reveng'd upon his Pate, That kept poor Nees from his Estate: But when they Land at Derry-Bay, Let Nees expect a bloody day. (m) 1.442 Who can forget the Learned * 1.443 Cato, That writ so much on a Pottado;

Who cramm'd in every Page four Columns, Six of Poor Robin's single Volumns. At the (n) 1.444 Mac-Graths, who can but wonder, (o) 1.445 Or the two Burks, those Sons of Thunder? With that poor Devil, O (p) 1.446 Fa—beer, That base Bastard, and proud Beg-geer. Or Serany, Son of a Pander, Rais'd from the Plow to a Commander; (q) 1.447 Kickt meerly out of merit up, From Tail of Horse, to Head of Troop? Whose famous Deeds recorded may be, (r) 1.448 Amongst the Acts of Art Mac Faby:* 1.449 Who shall retrieve our Ruins best; Thou art the Man of all the rest.

(s) 1.450 Then clapping▪ hands, as sign of wonder, Behold (says he) that Son of Thunder, Tyrconnel, with his Spoils possest, The bravest King of all the rest. His Haughtiness bred in the Bogs, Shall call his Betters, Rogues and Dogs. From Butchers Bratt, rais'd to a Peer, To be a K. in Shamrogshire. (t) 1.451 This Devil shall do that which no Man Cou'd yet effect, restore the Roman; And in his time establish Popery, Which Curse ye Meroz calls a Foppery. Chappels shall up, the Churches down, And all the Land shall be our own. He shall secure our Title here, By a Rebellion in each Sheir,

An Army shall Collect the Rent, Confirm our Rights by Parliament. The Act of Settlement shall bate, And Nees shall get his own Estate, If by the Monsieur not supplanted, Who for a Sum has Covenanted; And both their Interests be not lost By the prevailing British Host. (u) 1.452 He shall subdue the Heretick, To bring in trusty Catholick. Humble the Peer, Exalt the Peasant, Without Assize of damage-Feisant. And shall advance the meanest sort To highest place of Camp and Court: All shall be common as before; No more shall Justices, no more

Shall Court of Claims, or Council-Table, Or Formidon, be formidable. Drink down Excise, know no Committe, But Routs and Riots in each City; Cut Throats; in Massacre skill'd well; And Plunder, tho' it were in Hell. Thus shall he rule the Rebel Rout, Till by the Monsieur josled out; Reduc'd to such a low Condition, He shan't to Curse have a Commission. Yet tho' his short insulting be But a continu'd Tyranny, All Articles he shall defie,* 1.453 And none shall say, black is his Eye. (w) 1.454 But here Enees had now espy'd A gay young Spark march by his side,* 1.455

In a Blue Scarlet Coat did shine, And Yellow Trouses, wondrous fine. He had a Scarf about his Arse, Edg'd with White Fringe of Yellow Lace: His Cap with Plume of Feathers set, Sent from the Pullets of Lorett: His Wig St. Peter's Hairs did bless, A Present from his Holiness. His Crevat, flower'd o're with Snuff, Made of the Virgin Mary's Ruff; So finely drest, that you would deem, 'Twould do a Blind-man good to see him. (x) 1.456 Dear Joy (says Nees) vho is that Owl, Valks vid his Fader Cheek by Jowl? Is it his Son, or Bastard Heir, Or some gay Irish Officere?

(y) 1.457 Vhat makes 'em all about so busie? (z) 1.458 O hone! How like the Fader is he? And be so like, sure as a Gun, De Fader is his very Son. But now the Night, like thickning Smoak That dwells in Crates, possession took O'th' Firmament, when he begun, With weeping, thus t' advise his Son. (a) 1.459 Oh Nees, poor Nees, do not importune, To know thy Countrey-mens misfortune, That will befal them by Adventurers, By English, Dutch, and Scotch Debenturers: Our Lands possest, we put to rout, By two Brigades of Horse and Foot:

Transported some, and some Transplanted, Whilst the prevailing Party Ranted. Till he's restor'd, with all his Train: But here's the Devil on't again; (b) 1.460 The Fates will only shew his Reign, To hope for more, is but in vain. (c) 1.461 The Roman Tribe would be too strong, If this good luck should last too long. How many Gallant Troops, this Sot Will he Condemn unto the Pot? How many fitter to Command, And Soldiers too, will he Disband? And carry on the sly Intrigue, To make a Vacancy for Teague. (d) 1.462 And truly, Nees, there's ne'er a one For us to crack of, when he's gone;

Not one, like Him, will e'er appear Again, to grow in Shamrogeshire. (e) 1.463 Ʋbboo! Ʋbboo! A Pack of Cards, The Good Old Faith, which none Regards: The Shams, the Dice, and wondrous Flight▪ This Lord will manifest in Fight. (f) 1.464 Whither a Donny Musque-teer, Or Guddihang of a Troo-peer. Not one shall meet him, not a Man, But he will shun him, if he can. (g) 1.465 Now Nees, (poor Boy) had'st thou the Pate To overcome thy harder Fate; 'Tis Nees alone, 'tis only He, Tyrconnel, my White Boy shall be.

(h) 1.466 (Il-lil-lil-loo:) My Crumacree, The hopes of all thy Family: Bring me a Bunch of Suggane Ropes, Of Shamroges, and Pottado-Tops: With Pig-tail, steep'd in Chamber-Lees, To make a Lawrel for Enees; With Crevat-string of Wattle-Twist; Confess thy last unto the Priest: Lilli-bo-lero, lero sing, Tyrconnel is no longer K — (i) 1.467 So hooting through the Woods, they sate To light a Pipe at the next Crate; Dy'd through with Smoak, the spacious Bowl, Out of meer Providence▪ kept foul; When Nees of Funk had ne'er a Corn, Wou'd, fier'd, like a Chimney burn:

The Smoak went round, which they did draw Thro' supplemental Foot of Straw. T' enlarge the Head, which lighted shows, Like a Carbuncle on the Nose; Left by his Sire, a Legacy, The Jewel of all the Family. (k) 1.468 Last, after he had led his Son From Crate to Cabbin, with the Nun, Expecting nothing but to sport on The hopes of their succeeding Fortune: He falls again to open War, But there-withal he does declare; How to prevent it, where, and when, He does demonstrate there, and then.

In short, it was to run away; Which said, he had no more to say. (l) 1.469 There are two famous Gates of Sleep, Through which all Maggot Dreams do creep, As nimble Hocus, and Hobgoblin, Thro' Creeks, and Key-holes, use to hobble in. The first whereof is built of Horn, Through which all's true, that e're was born: (m) 1.470 The other made of Ivory, The Sally-port of Forgery; Where it no sooner makes a pother In one Ear, but goes out at t'other.

(n) 1.471 Through which, when he had led 'em both, Where (think you) should he let 'em forth, But at the Horns? A subtil Mystery, To ratifie our present History. The Dream being out, they dropt a Mass, And parted at Peg-Trantom's Pass. The old Man he return'd to Hell, And Shela, to Inchanted Cell; (o) 1.472 And Nees got under him his Feet,* 1.473 To view his Soldiers in the Fleet:* 1.474 Who, glad to see his Grace Restor'd, With Hil-lil-loo's the Harbour roar'd; For to the Devil Nees was gone, And left his Men a Roguing on.

(p) 1.475 Some to the Sign o'th' (1) 1.476 Woman, sail, With the Fish growing at her Tail. Some the (2) 1.477 Garrane, their Lodging made, With Barber's-pole upon his Head: Others, at the next Sign below, O'th' (3) 1.478 Irish-man, y-crying O-o-o-h! But Nees, who had the Noblest place, Lodg'd at the Sign of the (4) 1.479 Ca-bash; The only House; (and 'twas a wonder, Although in Hell) that scap'd their Plunder. Nees, with his Torys, now so gay, Directs his Course to Dublin-Bay; But finding there, that things went so (Manag'd by a worse Devil, † 1.480 Devo;) He chose, depriv'd of all his Glory, To Scamper back to Purgatory.

(q) 1.481 The Anchor ty'd with Cord of VVood, He strait-way cast into the Mud; Resolving thence to Travel by Land, And all the Cotts did ride on dry Land.

Notes

• (a) 1.1

  Sic fatur lachrymans Classique immittit habenas.
• (b) 1.2

  — Cumarum illabitur oris.
• * 1.3

  Inche-Colm in Lough Erin, the Passage to St. Patrick's Purgatory!
• (c) 1.4

  Tum dente tenaci Anchor a fundabat Naves▪ —
• * 1.5

  A With.
• (d) 1.6

  — Et littora Curvae ••raetexunt puppes. —
• * 1.7

  The Anchor was a Quern, or Milstone, ty'd with a Gad.
• * 1.8

  Nees's Fleet.
• * 1.9

  His Magazine.
• * 1.10

  A Trunk of a Tree cut hol∣low.
• * 1.11

  The Scotch had burnt them.
• (e) 1.12

  — Juvenum manus emicat ardens Tecta rapit Silvas.
• * 1.13

  Chan∣uska.
• † 1.14

  Buye oge. To fetch Wa∣ter in a woo∣den Can.
• (f) 1.15

  Inventaque flumina monstrat
• * 1.16

  Three-leav'd-grass.
• (g) 1.17

  At pius Aenaeas arces quibus altus Apollo Praesidet, horrendaeque procul secreta Sybillae Antrum Immane petit. —
• * 1.18

  A Church e∣rected by St. Patrick, in Lough E••••n, through which they descend∣ed in••o St Pa∣trick's Purga∣tory. Annals of Ireland.
• * 1.19

  Sara.
• † 1.20

  Ann.
• * 1.21

  Ugly.
• * 1.22

  Lanedurne.
• (h) 1.23

  Jam subeunt Triviae lucas atque aurea tecta.
• * 1.24

  Ave-Maria.
• (i) 1.25

  Ventum erat ad Limen. —
• * 1.26

  Prayers.
• * 1.27

  Pater-Noster.
• * 1.28

  Irish Cry.
• (k) 1.29

  — Deus ecce Deus. Cui talia fanti Ante fores subito, non vultus, non color unus Non Comptae mansere comae.
• (l) 1.30

  — Cessas in Vota precesque? Tros ait Aenea? Cessas?
• (m) 1.31

  — Et talia fata Conticuit.
• (n) 1.32

  — Gelidus Teucris per dura cucurrit Ossa tremor.—
• (o) 1.33

  — Fuditque preces Rex pectore ab imo.
• * 1.34

  Nees's Prayer.
• (p) 1.35

  Phoebe graves Trojoe semper miserate labores.
• * 1.36

  Breeches.
• † 1.37

  Shoes.
• * 1.38

  Cabbin, or Irish Hut.
• * 1.39

  Bore.
• (q) 1.40

  Hac Trojana tenus fuerit fortuna secuta.
• * 1.41

  Mony.
• (r) 1.42

  Et tandem Italliae fugientis prendimus oras▪
• * 1.43

  Patrick.
• † 1.44

  Dear Heart.
• (s) 1.45

  Vos quoque dardaniae jam fasest parcere g••nti Diique deaeque omnes.
• * 1.46

  Lodge.
• (t) 1.47

  Tuque O sanctissima Vates Prescia Venturi da, non Indebita posco Regna meis fatis.
• * 1.48

  Court of Claims.
• * 1.49

  Acres.
• * 1.50

  Butter-milk.
• (u) 1.51

  — Festosque dies de nomine Phoebi.
• † 1.52

  Town of Swords in Fingaul.
• * 1.53

  St. Patrick's Day, the 17th of March, the Patron Day of Ireland.
• * 1.54

  † Tinder.
• (w) 1.55

  Te quoque magna manent Regnis penetralia nostris.
• * 1.56

  Noise.
• * 1.57

  Song.
• (x) 1.58

  — Finem dedit ore Loquendi.
• (y) 1.59

  At Phoebi nondum patiens immanis in antro Baccatur Vates.—
• * 1.60

  Ʋsquebagh.
• (z) 1.61

  O tandom magnis pelagi defuncte periclis, Sed terra graviora Manent, Bella! horrida Bella!
• (a) 1.62

  — Mitte hanc de pectore curam.
• * 1.63

  The River runs through Dublin.
• * 1.64

  Two Rivers.
• (b) 1.65

  — Cum tu supplex in rebus egenis.
• (c) 1.66

  Causa mali tanti conjux.—
• * 1.67

  Them.
• (d) 1.68

  Tune cede malis sed contra audentior ito, Qua tua te fortuna sinet.—
• (e) 1.69

  — Non ulla Laborum O Virgo nova mi facies inopinave surgit Omnia percepi.—
• * 1.70

  Brauler a Skeal.
• * 1.71

  Despair.
• (f) 1.72

  Ʋnum oro — Ire ad conspectum Chari genitoris.
• * 1.73

  God.
• (g) 1.74

  Illum ego per flammas & mille sequ••ntia Tela Aripui his humeris.—
• * 1.75

  Deulmore Iricism, Great Eye, great desire.
• (h) 1.76

  — Natique, Patrisque Alma precor▪ Miserere.
• (i 1.77

  — Potes namque omnia, nec te Nequicquam Lucis Heccate praefecit Avernis.
• * 1.78

  Roger.
• (k) 1.79

  Si Fratrem Pollux.—
• (l) 1.80

  —Quid Thesea magnum.
• (m) 1.81

  Et mi genus ab Jove summo.
• (n) 1.82

  Tunc sic orsa loqui Vates.
• (o) 1.83

  Sate sanguine Divum.
• * 1.84

  Teague Mac Lany, his Grand-father a Butcher, yet descended from the Fa∣mily of the Kings; whose Genealogy is as follows. Nees or Enees, Mac Anchees, Mac Cova, Mac Conigal, Mac Murear∣tagh, Mac Loughlin, Mac Rory, Mac Dermot, Mac Turlogh, Mac Tool, Mac Deul.
• (p) 1.85

  — Facilis Descensus Averni.
• (q) 1.86

  Quod si tantus amor menti. Latet arbore opacâ Aureus & foliis & lent•• Vimine Ramus.
• * 1.87

  Clowns.
• † 1.88

  Spirits.
• (r 1.89

  Praeteria jacet exanimum tibi corpus amici— Sedib••s hunc refer ante suis, & conde sepulchro. Duc nigras pecudes.
• * 1.90

  Spologue.
• * 1.91

  Shoes.
• (s) 1.92

  Multa inter sese vario sermone ferebat.
• * 1.93

  Joy.
• * 1.94

  Gossiping▪
• * 1.95

  Macshane kill'd.
• (t) 1.96

  — Atque illi Misenum in littore sicco, Ʋt venere vident.
• (u) 1.97

  — Indigna morte peremptum.
• * 1.98

  Roger.
• (w) 1.99

  Misenum Aeoliden, quo non praestantior alter, Aere ciere viros, martemque accendere cantu.
• * 1.100

  Gossiping.
• † 1.101

  Margery.
• * 1.102

  Gossiping.
• † 1.103

  Towns in Fingaul.
• † 1.104

  Towns in Fingaul.
• † 1.105

  Towns in Fingaul.
• * 1.106

  Song.
• * 1.107

  Farter.
• * 1.108

  (x) Sed dum forte cava, dum personat aequora concha, Demens, & cantu vocat in Certamina Triton. Inter saxa virum spumosâ immerfit in undâ.
• (y) 1.109

  Ergo omnes magno cir••um clamore fremebant, Praecipue pius Aeneas.—
• * 1.110

  Joy.
• * 1.111

  Horses.
• (z) 1.112

  Itur in antiquam Silvam.—
• * 1.113

  Three-leav'd-grass.
• (a) 1.114

  Vix ea fatus erat geminae cum forte Columbae Ipsa sub ore viri.—
• (b) 1.115

  —Tum maximus Heroes Maternas agnoscit aves.—
• (c) 1.116

  Corripit extemplo Aeneas— —Et vatis portat subtecta Sybillae.
• (d) 1.117

  Nec minus interea Misenum in Littore Teuchri Flebant.—
• * 1.118

  Form of an Irish Funeral.
• (e) 1.119

  Fit Gemitus. Tum membra Toro defleta reponunt.
• * 1.120

  Description of an Irish Cab∣bin.
• * 1.121

  Madda∣brist.
• (f) 1.122

  More Parentum.
• * 1.123

  An Irish Wake.
• * 1.124

  Songs.
• † 1.125

  A Game at Cards.
• (g) 1.126

  Pars ingenti subiere Pharetro.
• * 1.127

  Blanket.
• * 1.128

  Bun-guol.
• ‖ 1.129

  Fopperies and Trumpe∣ries.
• (h) 1.130

  Ossaque lecta cado texit Corineus abeno. Idem ter socios pura circuntulit undâ.
• (i) 1.131

  At pius Aenaeas ingenti mole sepulcrum Imposuit, sua{que} arma viro—
• * 1.132

  Sloo Skeal donna no Dees.
• (k) 1.133

  His actis proprie exequitur secreta Sybillae.
• * 1.134

  A Fingallian, or Ulster Feast.
• (l) 1.135

  Quatuor hic primum nigrantes terga Juvencos Constitit— .
• * 1.136

  Skeins. or Knives.
• * 1.137

  Gossiping.
• * 1.138

  Game or Sport.
• (m) 1.139

  — Visaeque Canes ululare per umbram.
• (n) 1.140

  — Procul, O procul este profani.
• (o) 1.141

  Tuque invade viam, vaginaque erripe ferrum.
• (p) 1.142

  Tantum effata furens antro se immisit aperto. Ille ducem timidis vadentem passibus aequat,
• * 1.143

  The Ceremonies in entring St. Pa∣trick's Purgatory. Gerraldus Cam∣brensis, and Hol∣lingshed's Descrip∣tion of Ireland.
• (q) 1.144

  Dii quibus Imperium est animarum, umbraeq, silentes, Et Chaos, & Phlegiton—
• 1 1.145

  The Patron of Ireland.
• 2 1.146

  Founder of Kilkenny.
• 3 1.147

  Q••aeran of Clonviencis.
• 4 1.148

  St. Finnia Bea∣trick of Clonard.
• 5 1.149

  Cowgal of Be∣anor
• 6 1.150

  St C••lm of Lough Erin,
• 7 1.151

  Bohineoge, Cou∣sin German to Colm-Kid.
• 8 1.152

  Of L••smore.
• 9 1.153

  Sancta Maula.
• 10 1.154

  Of L••thmore.
• 11 1.155

  Of Killachy.
• 12 1.156

  St. Shinkan, Son of great St. Colm.
• 13 1.157

  Sancta Suana.
• 14 1.158

  Brandon of Byrr, in the County of Tipperary, a very Eminent Saint; He was taken up into Heaven in a fiery Chari∣or. Eusebius apud Osulievan.
• 15 1.159

  Colm O Crowan.
• 16 1.160

  Colm O Kill, who was Cousin to Colm O Crowan, both Eminent Saints.
• 17 1.161

  An ancient Saint, whose Life is written by M••ulin O Mal∣conry
• 18 1.162

  Gillarnoo, M•••• C••••embocht, a Sai••t▪ and great Hi••••••••ion, much recorded in the Irish Legends.
• * 1.163

  Staff.
• (r) 1.164

  Vestibulum ante ipsum primisque in faucibus orci Luctus & ultrices posuêre cubilia Curae.
• * 1.165

  Hic primus Campus est Cruciatuum. Osullevan de Purgatorio Divi Patricii.
• * 1.166

  Nihilominus non parvi ma∣nes in aulla manserunt qui me inde Rapuerunt. Vici Comes apud Osulle∣vanum.
• (s) 1.167

  In medio Ramos, &c.—
• * 1.168

  Secundus Campus Cru∣ciatuum.
• (t) 1.169

  Quem sedem somnia vulgo Vana Tenere ferunt.— Gorgones, Harpiae{que}
• (u) 1.170

  — Mortiferum{que} adverso in limine Bellum.
• (w) 1.171

  Corripit hic subito tepidus formidine ferrum, Et ni docta comes—
• * 1.172

  Beating.
• (x) 1.173

  Hinc via Tartarea—
• * 1.174

  Poenarum flu∣vius.
• (y) 1.175

  Terribili squalore Charon.
• * 1.176

  An Irish Kern.
• * 1.177

  Cap.
• † 1.178

  Hair.
• ‖ 1.179

  Eyes.
• (z) 1.180

  — Stant lumina flammae.
• * 1.181

  Crisped Bushes of Hair, worn by the Wild Irish over their Foreheads, to deface them. Spencer of the State of Ire∣land.
• (a) 1.182

  Sordidus ex humeris nodo dependit amictus.
• * 1.183

  Side.
• (b) 1.184

  Ipse ratem conto subigit—
• * 1.185

  Teague a Trade! Vb-bub-bub-boo.
• (c) 1.186

  Quam multae glomerantur aves.
• * 1.187

  Pole.
• (d) 1.188

  Aenaeas miratus enim motusque tumultu Dic (ait O Virgo) quid vult concursus ad amnem, Quidve petunt animae?—
• (e) 1.189

  Olli sic breviter. Portitor ille Charon Hi quos volvit unda sepulti—
• * 1.190

  Lough Erin and Lough Neagh, Two Loughs in Ʋl∣ster, so famous for converting Wood into Stone. Hol∣lingshed de ••a∣cu Ʋlto••iae.
• * 1.191

  Dolorum Campus.
• (f) 1.192

  Ecce Gubernator sese Palinurus agebat. —Quis te Palinure Deorum Eripuit nobis?—
• ‖ 1.193

  Blind.
• (g) 1.194

  Namque Gubernaculum multa vi forte Revulsum Praecipitans traxi mecum.—
• * 1.195

  Rudder.
• * 1.196

  The Hill of Hoth in Fin∣gaul.
• * 1.197

  Water-Weeds.
• * 1.198

  Sythe.
• * 1.199

  In Fingaul.
• (h) 1.200

  Eripe me his invicte malis, aut tu mihi Terram Injice—
• (i) 1.201

  Aut tu— Da Dextram misero & tecum me tolle per undas Sedibus ut saltim placidis in morte quiescam.
• * 1.202

  God.
• * 1.203

  Eels.
• (k) 1.204

  Aeternumque locus Palinuri nomen habebit.
• * 1.205

  Now Killi∣nure, within five miles of Dublin.
• (l) 1.206

  Ergo iter incoeptum peragunt—
• (m) 1.207

  Quisquis es Armatus qui nostra ad limina tendis, Fare age quid venias jam nunc & comprime gressum.
• (n) 1.208

  Nec vero Alcides—
• * 1.209

  They were Irish-men.
• (o) 1.210

  Nullae sic insidiae tales absiste moveri. Nec vim Tela ferunt.
• (p) 1.211

  Troius Aeneas pietate insignis & Armis Ad genitorem—
• (q) 1.212

  Si te nulla movet tantae pietatis imago At Ramum hunc, aperitque Ramum quae veste latebat.
• (r) 1.213

  — Gemuit sub pondere Cymba.
• (s) 1.214

  Tandem trans fluvium incolumes—
• * 1.215

  A Fingallian Woman.
• (t) 1.216

  Cerberus hic ingens latranti Regna trifauci Personat—
• (u) 1.217

  Continuo auditae voces, vigitus & ingens, Infantumque animae flentes in limine primo. —Ab ubere raptos.
• * 1.218

  Limbus Infan∣tum.
• * 1.219

  Alice.
• * 1.220

  The Seat of Four Courts in Dublin, call'd Hell.
• * 1.221

  Limbus Ama∣torum.
• (w) 1.222

  Proxima deinde tenent Moesti loca qui sibi Lethum In sontes peperere manu, Lucemque perosi Projecere animas—
• (x) 1.223

  Inter Quas Phoenissa recens à vulnere Dido.
• (y) 1.224

  Quam Troius Heros— Ʋt primum agnovit.
• (z) 1.225

  Infoelix Dido—
• * 1.226

  In Fingaul.
• † 1.227

  Kiss.
• (a) 1.228

  Siste gradum, teque aspectu ne subtrahe nostro.
• (b) 1.229

  Extremum fato quod te alloquar hoc est.
• (c) 1.230

  Inde datum molitur iter, Jamque Arva tenebant Ʋltima, quae Bello clari secreta fremebant. Hic illi occurrit Tydeus—
• * 1.231

  Limbus Arma∣torium.
• (d) 1.232

  Nec vidisse semel satis est, juvat usque morari.—
• * 1.233

  Caves under ground.

  They were the ancient habitation of the Danes, vi∣sible in many parts of Ire∣land to this day.
• (e) 1.234

  Atque hic Priamiden laniatum corpore toto Deiphobum vidit, lacerum crudeliter ora.
• ‖ 1.235

  Priam. Fin∣gallian, Bryan, or O Bryan, descended from Heber, the White an∣cient Kings of Munster.
• (f) 1.236

  Ora, Manusque ambas, populataque tempora. Raptis Auribus.
• (g) 1.237

  Et truncas in honesto vulnere nares.
• (h) 1.238

  Quis tam crudeles optavit sumere poenas? Quis tandem de te licuit?
• (i) 1.239

  — Mihi fama suprema Nocte tuli—
• (k) 1.240

  Tunc egomet Tumulum.—
• (l) 1.241

  — Et magna manes ter voce vocavi.
• (m) 1.242

  — Te amice nequivi Conspicere.
• (n) 1.243

  Atque hic Priamides.—
• * 1.244

  (o) Sed te qui vivum casus age fare Vicissim Attulerint, An quae te fortuna fatigat Ʋt tristes sine luce domos loca turbida adires?
• * 1.245

  A Three Corner'd Oat-Cake.
• * 1.246

  Poenarum fer∣nox.
• (p) 1.247

  Hac vice Sermonum.— Sed comes admonuit breviterque effata Sybilla est. Nox ruit Aenaea, nos flendo ducimus horas?
• (q) 1.248

  Hic locus est partes ubi se via findit in Ambas.
• (r) 1.249

  Dextera que Ditis magni sub moenia tendit. H••c iter Elysium nobis: At leva malorum.
• (s) 1.250

  Deiph••bus Contra, nae saevi magna sacerdos. Discedam—
• (t) 1.251

  I decus, I nostrum. — Tantum effatus & in verbo vestigia torsit.
• * 1.252

  A Plug of Tobacco.
• (u) 1.253

  Respicit Aeneas subito, & sub rupe sinistra Maenia lata videt tripli••i circundata muro.
• (w) 1.254

  Porta adversa ingens—
• * 1.255

  Door Cup.
• * 1.256

  Secuudus Cam∣pus, Dolorum.
• (x) 1.257

  Hinc exaudiri gemitus, & saeva sonari Verbera, tum stridor ferri, tractaeque catenae.
• * 1.258

  Hinc sui du∣ctus in alium Campum mise¦ria doloribusqu Fuuestissimum Vice comes a∣pud Osullevan
• (y) 1.259

  Constitit Aenaeas strepitumque exterritus hausit.
• (z) 1.260

  Tum vates sic orsa loqui.—
• (a) 1.261

  Dux inclyte Teuerum.
• † 1.262

  Spirits▪
• † 1.263

  Fit for no∣thing but the Gallows.
• * 1.264

  Skerrit Dough no Skeal.
• † 1.265

  Blankit or Covering.
• (b) 1.266

  Gnossius haec Rhadamanthus habet Durissima Regna Castigatque auditque dolos.—
• † 1.267

  Old Rogue.
• † 1.268

  Young.
• (c) 1.269

  Subigitque fateri.
• * 1.270

  Sower Milk.
• † 1.271

  A Stroke.
• * 1.272

  A Cudgel.
• (d) 1.273

  Tum demum horrisono stridentes cardine sacrae Panduntur portae. Cernis custodia qualis?
• * 1.274

  Dolorem puteus.
• † 1.275

  A Town in the heart of Fingaull.
• † 1.276

  Ferterd.
• (e) 1.277

  — Tum Tartaras ipse.
• † 1.278

  Phelim ghe Medona, The highest Hill in Ire∣land.
• † 1.279

  A Valley in Kildare; Whence the Motto of the Geraldines, Crom-a Boo. Gigantum Campus.
• (f) 1.280

  Hic genus antiquum Terrae.—
• (g) 1.281

  Vidi & Crudeles dantem Salmonea poenas.
• † 1.282

  The great Garragantua of Ireland— So famous in the Irish Chro∣nicles.
• (h) 1.283

  — Cui tota novem per jugera corpus Porrigitur.—
• (i) 1.284

  Quid memorem Lepithas &c?
• † 1.285

  A valiant Conqueror; He overcame the Picts.

  Vide Cam∣brensem de rebus Hyber∣nicis.
• † 1.286

  Kings of Connough, descended from Heber, the White. Ba∣ron of Fin∣glas.
• † 1.287

  Kings of Connough, descended from Heber, the White. Baron of Fin∣glas
• (k) 1.288

  — Epulaeque ante ora paratae Regifico luxu.—
• * 1.289

  Lobsters and Oysters.
• (l) 1.290

  Furiarum maxima juxta Occupat & manibus prohibet contingere mensas.
• † 1.291

  Hagg▪
• * 1.292

  Child.
• (m) 1.293

  — Atque intonat ore—
• † 1.294

  Despair, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Luck.
• † 1.295

  Baas gu•• Taggard.
• † 1.296

  Churn.
• (n) 1.297

  Hic quibus invisi fratres dum vita manebat, Pulsatusve parens, & fraus innexa Clienti. Aut qui divitiis soli incubuere repertis, Nec partem posuere suis.—
• * 1.298

  Campus Impiorum.
• (o) 1.299

  — Ne quaere doceri Quam poenam.—
• * 1.300

  Poenarum vallis & Rota.
• * 1.301

  A Mare.
• † 1.302

  Drank.
• (p) 1.303

  Discite Justitiam moniti, & non temnere Divos.
• (q) 1.304

  Vendidit his Auro Patriam, dominum que potentem Imposuit; fixit leges pretio, atque Refixit.
• (r) 1.305

  Hic Thalamum in vasit Natae—
• (s) 1.306

  Non mihi si linguae Centum.
• † 1.307

  Tongues.
• (t) 1.308

  Acceleremus ait, Susceptum perfice munus.
• † 1.309

  Knife.
• † 1.310

  Grace Cup.
• (u) 1.311

  Dixerat, ac pariter gressi per apaca locorum Occupat Aenaeas adytum, corpusque Recenti Spargit aquâ—
• † 1.312

  Breeches.
• (w) 1.313

  — Ramumque adverso in Limine figit.
• (x) 1.314

  His Actis, proprie exequitur secreta Sybillae Devenere locos Laetos, & amaena vireta Fortunatorum nemorum, Sedesque beatas.
• * 1.315

  Limbus Pa∣trum.
• † 1.316

  Fair, hand∣som.
• † 1.317

  Old Rogues
• (y) 1.318

  Largior hic Campus Aether, & Lumine vestit Purpure••.—
• (z) 1.319

  — Solemque suum sua Sydera Norunt.
• † 1.320

  A Dance.
• (a) 1.321

  Pars in gramineis exercent membra palestris Contendunt ludo.—
• (b) 1.322

  — Et sulvâ luctantur arena.
• † 1.323

  Sports.
• † 1.324

  Gads.
• (c) 1.325

  Pars pedibus plaudunt chor••as, & carmina dicunt.
• † 1.326

  Bore.
• † 1.327

  Teague a Trade! Il-lil¦lil-loo.
• (d) 1.328

  Nec non Threicius—
• * 1.329

  Margery Cree
• * 1.330

  Towns in Fingaul.
• † 1.331

  Lessons,
• † 1.332

  Jiggs,
• (e) 1.333

  Hic genus antiquum Teueri.— Magnanimi Heroes—
• * 1.334

  Limbus Hero∣••um.
• 1 1.335

  Sons of Mi∣letus.
• 2 1.336

  Son of Heremon.
• 3 1.337

  de Danam, 3d. Conque∣ror of Ire∣land, he over∣came Fer∣volg, and 100000 men in one Battle.
• 4 1.338

  Neil of the Nine Hosta∣ges of 9 King∣doms.
• 5 1.339

  Son of Fin-Mac-Heul.
• 6 1.340

  A famous Giant.
• 7 1.341

  Con Kedcagh, so called from 100 Battels he fought.
• 8 1.342

  Bryan Boro, more famous than all his Predecessors.
• 9 1.343

  Miletus, Father of Heberbane, first Inhabitant of Ireland; whence the Irish are called Clonna Mile. Toby O Flannagan Moulin, and Mulrony, O Mul∣conry.
• (f) 1.344

  — Et Trojae dardanus Autor.
• (g) 1.345

  Per campos pascuntur equi. —
• † 1.346

  Little.
• † 1.347

  Straw.
• † 1.348

  Thorn.
• † 1.349

  Swift. Blind.
• (h) 1.350

  Conspicit ecce alias dextra levaque per herbam V••seentes.
• (i) 1.351

  Laetumque Choro peana canentes.
• (k) 1.352

  Hic manus ob patriam pugnando vulnera passi.
• (l) 1.353

  Omnibus his nivea cinguntur tempora vitta.
• * 1.354

  Suggane.
• (m) 1.355

  Quae Regio Anchysen? —
• (n) 1.356

  Musaeum ante omnes. —
• † 1.357

  Son to great Ossin, who was Son to Fin-Mac-Heul. His Stature was 145 Cupids, if you will believe O Flannagan, O Sullevan, Mulrony Col∣lonan, and the rest of their Authentick Legenders.
• (o) 1.358

  Discite—Quis habet Locus? illius ergo Venimus. —
• (p) 1.359

  Atque huic Responsum paucis ita reddidit Heros. Nulli certa domus Lucis habitamus apertis Riparumque toros, & prata recentia Rivis Incolimus—
• * 1.360

  Clo••e Derg Carret-pate.
• † 1.361

  A pair of Stairs.
• † 1.362

  Bore.
• † 1.363

  Beat.
• * 1.364

  Cut to pei∣ces.
• † 1.365

  Next the Heart, nea∣rest the Mouth,
• (q) 1.366

  — Sed vos si sert ita corde voluntas.
• (r) 1.367

  Hoc superate Jugum—
• † 1.368

  Thumb.
• † 1.369

  Made a Legg.
• (s) 1.370

  — Et facili vos tramite sistam.
• (t) 1.371

  At pater Anchyses penitus convalle virenti Fataque, fortunasque virum, moresque, manusque.
• (u) 1.372

  Isque ubi tendentem adversum per gramina vidit Aenaean.—
• (w) 1.373

  — Alacris palmas utrasque tetendit Effusae genis lachrymae—
• (x) 1.374

  — Et vox êxcidit ore.
• (y) 1.375

  Venisti tandem? —
• † 1.376

  Buttermilk.
• (z) 1.377

  Quas ego te terras? Et quanta per aequora vectum Accipio? —
• (a) 1.378

  — Quantis jactatum nate periclis?
• (b) 1.379

  Ille autem tua me genitor, tua tristis imago.
• (c) 1.380

  Saepius occurrens haec limina tendere adegit. Stant mare Tyrrheno Classes.
• (d) 1.381

  Da jungere dextram Da genitor, Teque amplexu ne subtrahe nostro.
• (e) 1.382

  Sie memorans larga flotu simul or a rigabat.
• (f) 1.383

  Ter conatus ibi collo dare brachia circum, Ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago, Bar levibus ventis, volu••rique simillima somno.
• (g) 1.384

  Interea videt Aenaeas—
• (h) 1.385

  Hunc circum innumerae gentes, populique volabant.
• * 1.386

  In the North.
• (i) 1.387

  Horrescit visu subito, causasque requirit, Ins••ius Aenaeas—
• (k) 1.388

  Tum pat••x▪ Anchyses.—
• (y) 1.389

  Animae,—Laethei ad fluminis unda••, Securu•• latices & longa oblivia potunt.
• † 1.390

  London-Derry.
• (z) 1.391

  Dixerat Anchyses, natumque unaque sybillans, Conventus trahit in medios.
• (a) 1.392

  Nune age Dardaniam prolem—
• (b) 1.393

  Ille vidis para Juvenis qui nittitur hasta.
• † 1.394

  Phelim O Neal.
• * 1.395

  De Burgo.
• (c) 1.396

  Slyvius Aenaeas pariter pietate vel armis — Egregius—
• † 1.397

  Fitton, Nangle, &c.
• (d) 1.398

  Quin & avo comitem sese mavortius addet, —Romulus—
• * 1.399

  Oliver Crom.
• (e) 1.400

  Viden ut geminae stant vertice crista.
• (f) 1.401

  At pater ipse suo superum jam signat honore.
• (g) 1.402

  Septemque una sibi muro circundabit Arces, Foelix prole virum. Qualis Berecynthia mater.
• † 1.403

  Co••k-bill, Cock-hill. St. Nicholas and Paulgate, Conduit-Hill, and the two Hills of Keisers, and School-house Lane.
• * 1.404

  They were Irish.
• (h) 1.405

  —Qui rursus latio regnata per arva, —Redit.—
• (i) 1.406

  Qui rursus constituet Rem.
• (k) 1.407

  — Hic Casar & omnis Juli Progenies, ••••gnum Coeli ventura sub aexem.
• † 1.408

  Helm.
• (l) 1.409

  Huc geminas inflecte acirs, hanc aspice gentem Romanosque tuos.—
• (m) 1.410

  Hic vir, hic est tibi quem promit••i saepius audis Augustus Caesar.—
• (n) 1.411

  — Divugenus —
• (o) 1.412

  — Aurea condet secula.—
• (p) 1.413

  — Super & Garamaentes & Indos Proferet Imperium —
• (q) 1.414

  — Jacet extra siderae tellus. Hujus in adventu—
• (s) 1.415

  — Jam nunc & Caspia Regna Responsis horrent divum.—
• (t) 1.416

  Nec vero Alcides tantum Telluris obibat Fixerat aeripidem Cervum licet—
• (u) 1.417

  Et dubitamus adhuc Virtutem extendere factis.
• (w) 1.418

  Aut metus? —
• * 1.419

  Cohil clove∣derg, Anglice Cohil the Red. K. of Ireland; so says Mul∣conry; but Mulrony, who is a more Au∣thentick Histo∣rian, affirms, it alludes to de Coursey.
• (x) 1.420

  — Nosco crines incanaque menta.
• (y) 1.421

  — Curibus parvis & paupere terra Missusin Imperium Magnum.—
• (z) 1.422

  —Quem juxta sequitur jactantior Ancus.
• (a) 1.423

  Vis & Tarquines Regis, animumque superbum Ʋl∣toris Bruti.
• (1) 1.424

  Miletus, Father of all the Kings of Ire∣land; whence the Irish are called Clonna-Mile. Ger. Cambrensis.
• (2) 1.425

  This is Ed. de la Bruce, who in the year of Ed. 2d. stiled himself King of Ireland. Baron Finglus, and Sir John Da∣vis of the State of Ireland.
• (b) 1.426

  Quin Decios Drusosque procul.—
• (3) 1.427

  The Decys, an ancient Fa∣mily in Ireland; they opposed Tyrone's Re∣bellion in Mun∣ster; and were always Friends to the English Interest, till now.
• (c) 1.428

  Aspice Torquatum. —
• (d) 1.429

  — Et Referentem signa Camillum.
• (e) 1.430

  Illae autem.—
• * 1.431

  The Cruelty committed by the Irish Re∣bels upon the English.
• * 1.432

  Upon their Sheep and Cat∣tle.
• (f) 1.433

  Heu quantum inter se Bellum!—
• (g) 1.434

  Ne pueri, ne tanta animis assues••i••e bella.
• (h) 1.435

  Tuque prior, tu parce genus qui ducis Olympo.
• † 1.436

  Them.
• (i) 1.437

  Ille triumphata.—
• † 1.438

  Hugh buey O Neal.
• * 1.439

  Altitudines ultoniae. Gen▪ Cambren.
• (k) 1.440

  Eruet ille Argos.—
• (l) 1.441

  Ʋltus avos Trojae.—
• (m) 1.442

  Quis te magne Cato? —
• * 1.443

  This is Cor∣mack Mac Art, styled, the Cato of Ireland.

  He writ a Trea∣tise of the Ver∣tues of a Pot∣tado, beyond the Wisdom of Solomon, the Knowledge of Aristotle, the Rhetorick of Cicero. Con. Clerenaugh, and Murear∣tagh O Colle∣gan.
• (n) 1.444

  Quis te Gracchi genus.—
• (o) 1.445

  Aut geminos duo fulmina Belli.
• (p) 1.446

  Parvoque potentem Fabricium?
• (q) 1.447

  — Vel te sulco Serrane serentem.
• (r) 1.448

  Quo fessum rapitis Faebij?
• * 1.449

  Donnogh Mac Art Mac Faby.
• (s) 1.450

  Aspice ut insignis spoliis Marcellus opimis, Ingreditor, Victorque Viros supereminet omnes▪
• (t) 1.451

  Hic Rem Romanam-sistet.—
• (u) 1.452

  —Sternet Poenos.—
• * 1.453

  Sheridon's Case.
• (w) 1.454

  Atque hic Aenaeas, una namque ire videb••t, Egregium forma Juvenem, & fulgentibus Armis,
• * 1.455

  Mark Tal— his Bastard Son.
• (x) 1.456

  Quis Pater ille virum qui sic comitatur euntem: Filius, anne aliquis magna de stirpe neporum?
• (y) 1.457

  Quis strepitus circa comitem?
• (z) 1.458

  Quantum instar in ipso?
• (a) 1.459

  Tum pater Anchyses lachrymis ingressus in oris. O nate ingentem Luctum ne quaere tuorum!—
• (b) 1.460

  Ostendent Terris hunc tantum fata!—
• (c) 1.461

  — Nimium vobis Romana propag••.
• (d) 1.462

  Nec puer Iliaca quisquam—
• (e) 1.463

  Heu pietas! Heu prisca fides!
• (f) 1.464

  — Neo illi quisquam se impune tulisset Obvius armae••o. Seu cum pedes iret in hostem Seu Spumantis equi. —
• (g) 1.465

  Heu miserande puer! Si qua fata aspera rumpas Tu Marcellus e••••s.—
• (h) 1.466

  — Manibus date lillia plenis Na••a Corona.—
• (i) 1.467

  — Sic tota passim Regione Vacantur.
• (k) 1.468

  Quae postquam Anchyses natum per singula duxit, Incenditque animum famae venientis amore, Exin Bella Viro memorat, quae deinde gerenda, Et quocunque modo fugiatque, feratque laborem.
• (l) 1.469

  Sunt geminae somni portae, quarum altera fertur Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris.
• (m) 1.470

  Altera candenti perfecta nitens Elephanto, Sed falsa ad Coelum mittunt insomnia manes.
• (n) 1.471

  His ubi tum natum Anchyses unaque Sybillam, Prosequitur dictis, portaque immi••tit eburna.
• (o) 1.472

  Ille viam secat ad naves, sociosque Revisit.
• * 1.473

  Vice-comes a Purgatorio reddit.
• * 1.474

  O Sullevan.
• (p) 1.475

  Tum se ad—Recto fert l••ttore cursum.
• (1) 1.476

  Mare-maid.
• (2) 1.477

  Unicorn.
• (3) 1.478

  Sarazens-Head.
• (4) 1.479

  The Globe.
• † 1.480

  De••a••x.
• (q) 1.481

  Anchora de prora jacitur, stant littore puppes.