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(2r2+1)2 where if r be put =1, the numbers come out 1 and 36

8r3

other numbers may be found by taking r=2, 3, &c.

Solution to Question IT.

=

Put 4r+5+5 the product and 4r252 the difference of the required numbers where three conditions are solved, the difference a square, and the product plus and minus the difference squares, it remains to make the sum a square. But 16r+5+16r+5+45 is equal to the square of the sum; that is, 452 × (4r*52+4r2+1) must be made a rational square and its root a square, by proceeding as in the above Solution, we obtain 5 =

(2r-1) and by taking r=1, the numbers come out

8r3

answers may be obtained by assuming r = 2, 3, &c.....

Solution to Question III.

and

=

other

Put a x and x for the required numbers, whose product a2x2 a square, then a x2+a2x+x and a2x2-a^x-x, must be both rational squares, by taking the difference and reducing it to factors, we obtain the

m

root of the greater square —— + + m being any number what

ax am
2

m

Za

ever, by equating the square of this root to a2x2 + a2 x + x

a2x2x(m2-1)/aam+m

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1+m)2; ; make m2 n2, then

2a

anx

m

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2a

2 and m, the numbers come out 125 and 125, which answer the condrtions of the question, various other answers can be deduced from the ge neral value of x.

Solution to Question the 4th.

Using the same notation as in the last Solution, it is required to make a2x2+ax-x and a2x2-a2x+x both squares, by resolving the difference into two factors, and equating the square of half the sum of said factors to

a2x2+a2x-x, the value of x comes out (aa-1) m2

20

(aa-1)Xm2

20a

and a x equal

where mp21, and a any number at pleasure, unity

excepted. If m = and a = 2, the numbers are 1⁄2 and 25, which answer all the conditions of the question.

A PROBLEM.

To find five squares the sum of every four of them a rational square,

Dublin, May 18, 1812.

Note The language of Algebra is very troublesome to Compositors, therefore the Proprietor of the Irish Magazine requests his Mathematical correspondents will simplify their operations as in the Companion and other English diaries.

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The following Verses were occasioned by a late whimsical Circumstance which occurred in the Smoaking-room adjoining the House of Commons. Some Wag chalked a Cross on the hat of the Right Hon. Pat. D

Privy Counsellor was in a slumber.

OLD jolly Sol's meridian beat Threw Earth into a muck of sweat, From the lax pores of every nation, He fucked the oozy exhalation. Andrew from dunghill, ditch and bög, The musky vapour, ftyl'd a fog, Which rifing on the breeze of even', As dark as hell had fmoak'd the heaven; To give my thoughts a different guife, The shoeboy Sun had ila ked the skies. Save where the pewter-rifaged moon In bright rotundity was fhown; Or where the star's nictating (park, Flared forth to prove the rest was dark. Thus have I feen (and I'm an odd fish) In gloomy pantry, fprats and cod-fish: To dim whofe rays, tho' fhades confpire, Greafy with ftreams of mucid fire. Or, what perhaps, better fits my knuckle, Seen Sheriff Harty's bright fhoe-buckle; Whose littering honours richly fet, Blazed brighter by being laid on jet. In fhort the dark to bring to light, And stifle metaphor 'twas night!!: Collected was that dread convention Which rules the roast of place and penfion; Which gives my Lord his princely houfe, and Snug finecure of "twenty thousand." And fills the laurelled Soldier's gullet With twelve-pence, and a-glorious bullet The Parliament in fine affembled, The dome with vocal thunders t:enabled; That vaftly dome, whofe Irish oak head Liftens alike to wit and blockhead;

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while the

Where pother' echo gets fuch tearing,
Fis frange the has not lost her hearing.
If you would fife in England's Forum,
Stifle the voces Populorum.

But if for honest famè yóû're eager,
Then be a Patriot and a Beggar:
No matter of imperious moment
That night requiring learned commest,
Two worthies of the felf-fame colour,
Great Paddy Duigean and Jack Fuller,
From wordy wat retired together,
To talk of places and the weather.
The Popila triumph each regret ed
The pigtail's (moke their breaths made
fætid,

Which joined to Jack's narcotic notions Formed for poor Pat strong fleeping potions. 'Til his (quat length stretched on the bumboard,

The Surregate of Ireland lumbered
So loud he fnored you'd think his head
"The thrilling trup that wakes the dead"
His vifion too was for a while hid
For Morpheus bird lime smeared his eye-
lid;

When lo, fothe gracelets deep-invader
Refold to make Pat a Crufader,
Tho' well he knew not Turk nor Othman,
Hun, Vandal, Saracen, nor Goth-man
(Who'd fhoot a Papist like a pidgeon)
Toiled more against the true religion.
To gratify his waggish caper,
He carved a CROSS of virgin paper.
And laid it on PAT's head fo greasy
Which foaks the drippings of his jazy:
The feat achieved, PA's rest he broke,
Tweak'd his hog fnout and lo!, he woke
"The bonds of fleep being burft alunder"
Pat meets the "fare of moon-eyed wonder

And

Original Poetry.

And as across the room he strutted,
He thought his phiz with fouff was fmutted,
Then cleanly (as it oft the cafe is)
He raised his fleeve to wipe the faces.
The gapers paffed him to and fro,
He cries why do you cross me fo.
The man of trick, with grin and titter,
Mof quaintly anfwers" Thou art Peter”
I'll raise my standard on thy rock-head,...
I could not meet a fauncher hlockhead.
Pat took the hint, he doffed his Jewfter*
Grafps the poor cross with fume aud foofter
Hold wretch, he bellows, till I crimp ye,
Thou art an IMP; yes, I'm an M. P..
Be not fo fierce, mott learned Doctors,
You're not 'mongst vicars now and Proc-
tors,

I fee you've got of words a throat-full,
'Tis time to run you're waxing wrothful.
I'd fay ADIEU, were I but civil,
But ah! I hear your Lord's the DEVIL.
DARBY PINDAR.

ON PATRICK'S DAY.

On Patrick's Day, no matter where,
Around this wide extended fphere,
From clime to clime, from Pole to Pole,
Each Irishman will pour his foul.
In praife of HIM, who freed the land
From Superftition's baneful hand:
Who widely Virtue's kingdom spread,
(Of virtue pure, himself the head,)
Who planted Faith in Erin's ifle,
Whofe fons that faith will ne'er defile,
Whofe hierarchy unbroken ftands
'Gainft English foes, intolerant bands.
What? bound tho' firm in flavery's chain,
Yet Liberty will hold her reign
O'er Erin's island,, long the sport
Of England's worthleis venal Court,
Yes, come it will, that happy day,
When Liberty with genial ray
Shall warm each Irish hero's breaft
With warlike fire, with patriot zek.
Oh! then sweet Harmony thall reign,
Nor Bigotry this island stain;

Then hireling minions ne'er shall wave
The Rod, which power defpotic gave,
Nor then oppress this Isle of Saints;
Which now the breath of malice taints:
But nation like, on Patrick's Day
Drive jarriug Discord far away
From Erin's hofpitable coaft;
Bold valour's seat, pure honour's boast:
While true conteniment round shall reign,
And Peace awake lov'd Freedom's strain.
As clear Falernian's liquid tide

In focial draughts fhall downward glide,
Whole freams of joy thall smoothly roll,
And spread new pleasures o'er the foul.

Irish dan

What pity then, fuch louis as thofe
Should bite the chain of tyrant foes!
That Irish hearts with virtue fraught
Should be to low subjection brought!
That men upholding State and Crown,
Should tamely brook th' oppreffor's frown!
Then grant, O Lord, before this year
Shall roll around this orbed sphere,
That Freedom may her banners rear,
To ftrike her foes with awe, with fear,
That Ireland may her shackles burst,
And (ne'er again by difcord curít),
May fcorn th attempts of bigote vile,
Who long enfiaved her peaceful ille.
L. N.

SONNET.

AS at eve, o'er the woodlands I foray,
Where the wild rofe aud jeffamine spring
to raptures I hear from each spray,

The fweet feather'd chorifters fing.

How vocal, harmonious and fweet,
Do the Woodlarks and Philomel vie,
My joys would be furely complete,
If that my dear Anna were nigh.

Yes, Anna, the pride of the plain,

The fairest of all that are fair,
She's abfent, and I am in pain,

Alas! I am doom'd to despair.

I feat that a more happy fwain,
Has gain'd an access to her heart,
She flights me with cruel difdain,

'Tis madness to think we must part,

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FOR THE IRISH MAGAZINE..

The underneath Verses on the subject of the intemperate proceedings at the late meeting of the truly "contemptible and obsequious Corporation of Dublin" having appeared with yarious alterations in an Evening Paper of of this City, we here (by request) publish them in their original form.

-000

AIR-"GARRYONE."

1.

OH! the heart that's by ruthless intolerance led,
Whilst thus unprovok'd Bigotry rages, may smile,
But then, oh! let the tear of compassion be shed,
O'er the errors of men, and give them a while.

For dread soe'er our fortunes be,

If we're rolled by mercy's sacred sway,
Round the soul from gloomy rancours free,
The beam of enjoyment will perpetually flow.

Oh then Irishmen heed not the malice of knaves,
Nor your pity withhold from the intolerant mind,
For the wages corruption bestows on her slaves,
Cannot equal the sting which remorse leaves behind.

2.

Whilst we blame the poor dupes, the poor fanatic crew,
Who their prejudice please, and leave country aside,
Will we rank with such fools, and indulge hatred too,
Or be men, and forgive them with true Irish pridę.

Oh! his morals 'tis, and not the man,

That will share th' abhorrence of the just,
And if our dear island love we can,

Bear love to her sons, tho' unworthy, we must.

O then Irishmen heed not the malice of knaves,
your pity refuse to the intolerant mind,

Nor

For the wages corruption bestows on her slaves,

Cannot equal the pain which remorse leaves behind!

* Vide Lord Donoughmore's Speech on the Catholic Question.

A NEW

A NEW SONG, composed by the Rev. Guideon Ousley, Missionary Extraordinary and legal successor to the Rev. J. Wesley.-Air, Conny O'Dignan.

I sing you the type of ill-will and disunion, Sir,
Adverse alike to each sect and communion, Sir,
Redesdale, dire echo so loud in dissention,

His teeth are worn out in the bone of contention,

CHORUS.

So cut away, dash away P-y O'D—g-n,
Rotten, ridiculous P-y O'D-g-n,
There is no hack for the devil to ride upon,
Like the sham bigot old P-y O'D-g-n.

He howled for Fitzgibbon, as cur dogs in ire would do,
Painting the mischiefs that faggot and fire would do;
Hot from the embers of Constance and Lateran,
Shadows and bugbears for old wives to chatter on.

Chorus, So cut away, &s.

With tortures and racks and bastiles he annoyed us,
And bloody rebellions he constantly cloyed us;
'Till Grattan and Moira, with good Doctor Law, Sir,
Laughed off the mock danger that P-dy foresaw, Sir.
Some time he lay by, 'till the Romish Petition,
Revived his just claims to disgrace and perdition;
For P-dy relapsed is a friend I'll maintain it,
Whose maxims and creed would disgrace a rump senate.
So fertile his brain and so quick his invention,
He prospers by sowing the seeds of dissention;
Yet tho' the subordinate tool of oppression,
He is forward to preach to merit damnation.

Rye-house and meal-tub and gun-powder plots he knows,
Visions, chimeras, and horrors he can disclose;

Houghers, united men, croppies, and-SANS CULOTTES--
Crowd on his fancy, with patent for cutting throats.
Doctrines he broaches unheard and unknown, Sir,
And Scully reviles for his merit alone, Sir,
Against faith and morals unmatched as a railer,
He'll soon sing Hosannas to holy James Nailor.
Unused to reason, good manners, and wit, Sir,
At Hussey and Troy all his venom he spit, Sir;
The Pontiff likewise he hauled into the squabble,
The Church to preserve and enlighten the rabble.
Yet though in hypocrisy he is grown grey, Sir,
He constantly keeps a fat Friar in pay, Sir;
To sanctify sin and to sanction the sinner,
Who barks for his King as a dog for his dinner,

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