ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT.

THE JOVIAL PRIEST'S CONFESSION:

TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN OF WALTER DE MAPES,
TIME OF HENRY II.

LEIGH HUNT.
I DEVISE to end my days—in a tavern drinking,
May some Christian hold for me—the glass when I am shrinking,
That the cherubim may cry-when they see me sinking,
God be merciful to a soul—of this gentleman's way of thinking.
A glass of wine amazingly-enlighteneth one's intervals;
'Tis wings bedewed with nectar—that fly up to supernals;
Bottles cracked in taverns—have much the sweeter kernels,
Than the sups allowed to us in the college journals.
Every one by nature hath-a mold which he was cast in;
I happen to be one of those—who never could write fasting;
By a single little boy-I should be surpass’d in
Writing so: I'd just as lief-be buried; tomb'd and grass'd in.
Every one by nature hath—a gift too, a dotation:
I, when I make verses—do get the inspiration
Of the very best of wine—that comes into the nation :
It maketh sermons to astound-for edification.

Just as liquor floweth good-floweth forth my lay so;
But I must moreover eat-or I could not say so;
Naught it availeth inwardly—should I write all day so;
But with God's grace after meat-I beat Ovidius Naso.
Neither is there given to me-prophetic animation,
Unless when I have eat and drank-yea, ev'n to saturation;
Then in my upper story—hath Bacchus domination,
And Phoebus rushes into me, and beggareth all relation.

TONIS AD RESTO MARE.

ANONYMOUS.

AIB_" Oh, Mary, heave a sigh for me."

O MARE æva si forme;

Forme ure tonitru;
Iambicum as amandum,

Olet Hymen promptu;
Mihi is vetas an ne se,

As humano erebi;
Olet mecum marito te,

Or eta beta pi.

Alas, plano more meretrix,

Mi ardor vel uno;
Inferiam ure artis base,

Tolerat me urebo.
Ah me ve ara silicet,

Vi laudu vimin thus ?
Hiatu as arandum sex-

Illuc Ionicus.

Heu sed heu vix en imago,

My missis mare sta;
O cantu redit in mihi

Hibernas arida ?
A veri vafer heri si,

Mihi resolves indu:
Totius olet Hymen cum-

Accepta tonitru.

DIC.

DEAN SWIFT.

Dic, heris agro at, an da quar to fine ale,
Fora ringat ure nos, an da stringat ure tale.*

• Dick, here is a groat, a quart o' fine ale,

For a ring at your nose, apd a string at your tail.

MOLL.

DEAN SWIFT.

Mollis abuti,
Has an acuti,
No lasso finis,
Molli divinis.*

TO MY MISTRESS.

DEAN SWIFT.

Om de armis tres,
Imi na dis tres.
Cantu disco ver
Meas alo ver ?t

A LOVE SONG.

DEAN SWIFT.

APUD in is almi de si re,
Mimis tres I ne ver re qui re,
Alo veri findit a gestis,
His miseri ne ver at restis. I

A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN.

IN THE DORIO MANNER.

DEAN SWIFT.

Shepherd. Echo, I ween, will in the woods reply,

And quaintly answer questions: shall I try? Echo.

Try. Shepherd. What must we do our passion to express ? Echo.

Press. Shepherd. How shall I please her, who ne'er loved before ? Echo.

Before. Shepherd. What most moves women when we them address? Echo.

A dress. Shepherd. Say, what can keep her chaste whom I adore ? Echo.

A door. Shepherd. If music softens rocks, love tunes my lyre. Echo.

Liar. Shepherd. Then teach me, Echo, how shall I come by her? Echo.

Buy her. Shepherd. When bought, no question I shall be her dear? Echo.

Her deer. Shepherd. But deer have horns : how must I keep her under ? Echo.

Keep her under. Shepherd. But what can glad me when she's laid on bier ? Echo.

Beer. Shepherd. What must I do when women will be kind ? Echo.

Be kind. Shepherd. What must I do when women will be cross? Echo.

Be cross. Shepherd. Lord, what is she that can so turn and wind ? Echo.

Wind. Shepherd. If she be wind, what stills her when she blows ? Echo.

Blows.
Shepherd. But if she bang again, still should I bang her ?
Echo.

BANG HER
Shepherd. Is there no way to moderate her anger ?
Echo.

Hang her.
Shepherd. Thanks, gentle Echo! right thy answers tell

What woman is and how to guard her well. Echo.

Guard her well