Who writes like Apollo has most of his spirit, Who admires the ancients, and knows 'tis their due, Yet writes in a manner entirely new; Though none with more ease their depths can explore, Yet whatever he wants he takes from my store; It is owing to this, that, like Cynthia, his lays This said, the whole audience soon found out his drift: The convention was summon'd in favour of SWIFT. APOLLO'S EDICT. OCCASIONED BY NEWS FROM PARNASSUS." IRELAND is now our royal care, Let his success our subjects sway, And follow where he leads the way: No son of mine shall dare to say, You all agree, I make no doubt, The bird of Jove shall toil no more The manners of the rural race. Your guides to true simplicity. When Damon's soul shall take its flight, Though poets have the second-sight, * See the Verses to Lord Cutts. Yet, if his name you'd eternize, ; If Anna's happy reign you praise, When you describe a lovely girl, Now destin'd by the powers divine The blessing of another line. Then, would you paint a matchless dame, Whom you'd consign to endless fame? Invoke not Cytherea's aid, Nor borrow from the blue-ey'd maid; Nor need you on the Graces call; THE DESCRIPTION OF AN IRISH FEAST. TRANSLATED ALMOST LITERALLY OUT OF THE 1720. [O'Rourke, a powerful chieftain of Ulster in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was induced to make a visit to the court of that sovereign; and, in order to take leave of his neighbours with becoming splendour, he assembled them in the great hall of his castle, which was situated in the county of Leitrim, and still exists as a ruin. He entertained his numerous guests with such a profusion of the rude hospitality of the period, that the memory of his feast long survived in tradition; the longer perhaps on account of the tragical fate of O'Rourke himself, who was put to death in England. Hugh Mac Guaran, Esq. of Leitrim, a contemporary of the celebrated Carolan, composed, upon this traditionary foundation, the celebrated song of Plearaca na Ruarcah. The fame of the ditty having reached Dean Swift, he was supplied, at his own request, with a literal version, from which he executed the following very spirited translation. It was afterwards translated by Mr Charles Wilson, who published Irish poems in 1782, from whose scarce and forgotten, though very curious collection, I have transferred the original Irish words, for the benefit of the curious in Hibernian antiquities.] *Lady Catharine Forbes, daughter of the first Earl of Granard, and second wife of Arthur third Earl of Donegal. O'ROURKE's noble fare His revels to keep, Usquebaugh to our feast And a madder our cup. O there is the sport! In disorderly sort, From snoring all night. PLEARACA NA RUARCACH. Plearaca na Ruarcach Accuimhne an uile dhuine, Seacht bhfithchead muc, Da ccasgairt don ghasraidh, Na ceada pàl uisge-beatha, Ag èirghe air maidin, Is againn a bhi an spòirt. Do briseadh mo phiopasa, * A wooden vessel.-F. |