at.[21]

A long-ear'd beast, and what seasons your beef,
On such an occasion the law gives relief.[22]

A long-ear'd beast, a thing that force must drive in,
Bears up his house, that's of his own contriving.[23]

[Footnote 1: A shovel.]
[Footnote 2: Aspiring.]
[Footnote 3: A switch.]
[Footnote 4: A skewer.]
[Footnote 5: A sparable; a small nail in a shoe.]
[Footnote 6: A shock.]
[Footnote 7: A sloven.]
[Footnote 8: Asperse. (Pearce was an architect, who built the
Parliament-House, Dublin.)]
[Footnote 9: A soul.]
[Footnote 10: A slice.]
[Footnote 11: A scar.]
[Footnote 12: A swallow.]
[Footnote 13: A sty.]
[Footnote 14: A sink.]
[Footnote 15: A slam.]
[Footnote 16: A slate.]
[Footnote 17: A swine.]
[Footnote 18: Askew.]
[Footnote 19: A saddle.]
[Footnote 20: A smock.]
[Footnote 21: A spur.]
[Footnote 22: Assault.]
[Footnote 23: A snail.]

POEMS COMPOSED AT MARKET HILL

ON CUTTING DOWN THE THORN AT MARKET-HILL.[1] 1727

At Market-Hill, as well appears
By chronicle of ancient date,
There stood for many hundred years
A spacious thorn before the gate.

Hither came every village maid,
And on the boughs her garland hung,
And here, beneath the spreading shade,
Secure from satyrs sat and sung.

Sir Archibald,[2] that valorous knight.
The lord of all the fruitful plain,
Would come to listen with delight,
For he was fond of rural strain.

(Sir Archibald, whose favourite name
Shall stand for ages on record,
By Scottish bards of highest fame,
Wise Hawthornden and Stirling's lord.[3])

But time with iron teeth, I ween,
Has canker'd all its branches round;
No fruit or blossom to be seen,
Its head reclining toward the ground.

This aged, sickly, sapless thorn,
Which must, alas! no longer stand,
Behold the cruel Dean in scorn
Cuts down with sacrilegious hand.

Dame Nature, when she saw the blow,
Astonish'd gave a dreadful shriek;
And mother Tellus trembled so,
She scarce recover'd in a week.

The Sylvan powers, with fear perplex'd,
In prudence and compassion sent
(For none could tell whose turn was next)
Sad omens of the dire event.

The magpie, lighting on the stock,
Stood chattering with incessant din:
And with her beak gave many a knock,
To rouse and warn the nymph within.

The owl foresaw, in pensive mood,
The ruin of her ancient seat;
And fled in haste, with all her brood,
To seek a more secure retreat.

Last trotted forth the gentle