'Cause all the while the industrious wretch is 



turning. 

 Then no more Fuddle say ; give him no spurns, 

 Hut wreak your spleen on one that never turns, 

 And call him, if a proper name he lack, 

 A four-foot hustler, or a living Jack. 



On the Collar of Tiger, Mrs. Dingley's Lap-Dog 



ORAY steal me not ; I'm Mrs. Dingley's, 

 -*- Whose heart in this four-footed thing lies. 



Jonathan Swift. 



On Rover, a Lady's Spaniel : Instructions to a 

 Painter *o -<o <^> "O *o 



HAPPIEST of the spaniel race, 

 Painter, with thy colours grace : 

 Draw his forehead large and high, 

 Draw his blue and humid eye ; 

 Draw his neck so smooth and round, 

 Little neck with ribbons bound ! 

 And the muscly swelling breast, 

 Where the Loves and Graces rest ; 

 And the spreading even back, 

 Soft, and sleek, and glossy black ; 

 And the tail that gently twines, 



58 



