This Village, unmolested yet
By Troopers, fhall be my Retreat :
Who cannot flatter, bribe, betray;
Who cannot write or vote for Pay.
from the Vermin of the Town,

Far

Here let me rather live, my own,

Doze o'er a Pipe, whofe Vapour bland

In fweet Oblivion lulls the Land,
Of all which at Vienna passes,

*

As ignorant as * Brafs is:
And-fcorning Rafcals to carefs,

Extoll the Days of good Queen BESS,
When firft TOBACCO bleft our Ifle,
Then think of other Queens and smile.
Come jovial Pipe, and bring along
Midnight Revelry and Song ;
The merry Catch, the Madrigal,
That echoes sweet in City Hall;
The Parfon's Pun, the fmutty Tale
Of country Juftice o'er his Ale.
I ask not what the French are doing,
Or Spain to compafs Britain's Ruin :
Britons, if undone, can go,

Where TOBACCO loves to grow.

THE

THE

PLEASURE of being OUT OF DEbt.

HORACE, Ode XXII. Book 1. imitated. Integer vita fcelerifque purus, &c.

T

I.

HE Man, who not a Farthing owes,

Looks down with fcornful Eye on those,

Who rife by Fraud and Cunning;

Though in the Pig-market he ftand
With Afpect grave and clear-ftarch'd Band,
He fears no Tradefman's Dunning.

II.

He paffes by each Shop in Town,
Nor hides his Face beneath his Gown,
No Dread his Heart invading;

He quaffs the Nectar of the Tuns,
Or on a spur-gall'd Hackney runs
To London masquerading.

III.

What Joy attends a new-paid Debt!
Our Manciple I lately met

Of Vifage wife and prudent;

I on the Nail my Battels paid,
The Monster turn'd away dismay'd.

Hear this, each Oxford Student!

IV.

With Juftice and with Truth to trace
The griefly Features of his Face,

Exceeds all Man's recounting;

Suffice, he look'd as grim and four
As any Lion in the Tower,

Or half-ftarv'd Cat-a-Mountain.

V.

A Phiz fo grim you scarce can meet
In Bedlam, Newgate, or the Fleet,

Dry Nurfe of Faces horrid!

Not

Not BUCKHORSE, fierce with many a Bruife,
Difplays fuch complicated Hues

On his undaunted Forehead.

VI.

Place me on Scotland's bleakeft Hill,
Provided I can pay my Bill,

Hang ev'ry thought of Sorrow;

There falling Sleet, or Froft, or Rain,
Attack a Soul refolv'd, in vain : -
It may be fair To-morrow.

VII.

To Heddington then let me ftray,
And take Jo. Pullen's Tree away,

I'll ne'er complain of Phoebus;
But while he fcorches up the Grafs,
I'll fill a Bumper to my Lafs,

And toaft her in a Rebus.

ODE

Mperial Bird, who wont to foar
High o'er the rolling Cloud,

Where Hyperborean Mountains hoar
Their Heads in Ether fhroud;

Thou