Part 2 — EPIGRAM, ON LORD ORRERY'S REMARKS ON SWIFT'S LIFE AND WRITINGS
Reading edition
A sore disease this scribbling itch is! His Lordship, in his Pliny seen,[1] Turns Madam Pilkington in breeches, And now attacks our Patriot Dean. What! libel his friend when laid in ground: Nay, good sir, you may spare your hints, His parallel at last is found, For what he writes George Faulkner prints. Had Swift provoked to this behaviour, Yet after death resentment cools, Sure his last act bespoke his favour, He built an hospital—for fools. [Footnote 1: Lord Orrery translated the letters of the younger Pliny.—Scott.]