JONATHAN SWIFT, D. D. 375

the mark.* But what seems to have provoked the

Dean more than personal libels, to which he was in

* We printed a tolerable poem of Smedley ' s on Swift ' s instal

ment j and the following, though a malignant caricature, has con

siderable point and vivacity, as well as a distorted resemblance to

the Dean ' s character :

THE DEVIL ' S LAST GAME,

A SATIRE*

SAID Old Nick to St Michael, you use me but ill,

To suppress all my force, and restrain all my skill;

Let me loose at religion, I ' ll shew my good parts,

And try if your doctrine can balance my arts.

' Tis a match, cried the angel, and drew off his guard,

And the devil slipt from him, to play a court card.

The first help he sought was a qualified mind,

That had compass and void for the use he design ' d.

There occurr ' d a pert nothing, a stick of church timber,

Who had stiffness of will, but his morals were limber :

To whom wit served for reason, and passion for zeal ;

Who had teeth like a viper, and tail like an eel :

Wore the malice of hell with heavenly grace,

Of humour enchanting, and easy of face ;

His tongue flow ' d with honey, his eyes flash ' d delight ;

He despised what was wrong, and abused what was right ~ f

Had a nack to laugh luckily ; never thought twice :

And with coarseness of heart had a taste that was nice.

Nature form ' d him malignant, but whetting him fast,

He was edged for decay, and too brittle to last.

He would quarrel with virtue because ' twas his foe ' s,

And was hardly a friend to the vice which he chose :

He could love nothing grave, nothing pleasant forbear ;

He was always in jest, but was most so in prayer !

Lord be praised, quoth the devil, a fig for all grace !

So he breathed a new brogue o ' er the bronze of his face ;

Lent him pride above hope, and conceit above spleen,

Slipt him into church service, and call ' d him a Dean.