Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, EXCELLENT NEW SONG UPON HIS GRACE..LORD ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN, by JONATHAN SWIFT


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

EXCELLENT NEW SONG UPON HIS GRACE..LORD ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I sing not of the draper's praise, nor yet of william wood
Last Line: As did methusalem of old, and so I end my song.
Subject(s): Clergy; Wood, William (1671-1730); Priests; Rabbis; Ministers; Bishops


I Sing not of the Draper's Praise, nor yet of William Wood;
But I sing of a Famous Lord, who seeks his Country's Good.
Lord WILLIAM'S Grace of Dublin Town, 'tis he that first appears,
Whose Wisdom and whose Piety, do far exceed his Years.
In ev'ry Council and Debate he stands for what is Right;
And still the Truth he will Maintain, whate'er he loses by't.
And though some think him in the Wrong, yet still there comes a Season
When ev'ry one turns round about, and owns His Grace had Reason.
His Firmness to the publick Good, as one that knows it Swore,
Has lost His Grace for Ten Years past Ten thousand Pounds and more:
Then come the Poor and strip him so, they leave him not a Cross,
For he regards Ten thousand Pounds no more the Woods's Dross.
To beg his Favour is the Way new Favours still to win,
He makes no more to give ten Pounds than I to give a Pin.
Why, there's my Landlord now the 'Squire, who all in Money wallows,
He would not give a Groat to save his Father from the Gallows.
A Bishop says the noble 'Squire, I hate the very Name,
To have two thousand Pounds a Year, O 'tis a burning Shame!
Two thousand Pounds a Year, Good Lord! and I to have but Five.
And under him no Tenant yet was ever known to thrive.
Now from his Lordship's Grace I hold a little Piece of Ground,
And all the Rent I pay is scarce five Shillings in the Pound.
Then Master Steward takes my Rent, and tells me, honest Jo.
Come, you must take a Cup of Sack or two before you go.
He bids me then to hold my Tongue, and up the Money locks,
For fear my Lord should send it all into the poor Man's Box.
And once I was so bold to beg that I might see His Grace,
Good Lord! I wondred how I dar'd to look him in the Face.
Then down I went upon my Knees, his Blessing to obtain,
He gave it me, and ever since I find I thrive amain.
Then said my Lord, I'm very glad to see thee honest Friend,
I know the Times are something hard, but hope they soon will mend,
Pray never press your self for Rent, but pay me when you can,
I find you bear a good Report, and are an honest Man.
Then said his Lordship with a Smile, I must have LAWFUL Cash,
I hope you will not pay my Rent in that same Woods's Trash.
God Bless your Grace I then reply'd, I'd see him hanging high'r,
Before I'd touch his filthy Dross, than is Clandalkin Spire.
To every Farmer twice a Week all round about the Yoke,
Our Parsons Read the Draper's Books, and make us honest Foke.
And then I went to pay the 'Squire and in the Way I found,
His Baily Driving all my Cows into the Parish Pound.
Why Sirrah said the Noble 'Squire, how dare you see my Face,
Your Rent is due almost a Week beside the Days of Grace.
And Yet the Land I from him hold is set so on the Rack,
That only for the Bishop's Lease 'twould quickly break my Back.
Then God Preserve his Lordship's Grace, and make him live as long
As did Methusalem of old, and so I end my SONG.






Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net