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My Life's amufements have been juft the fame,
Before, and after Standing Armies came.
My lands are fold, my father's house is gone;
I'll hire another's; is not that my own,


And yours, my friends? through whofe free opening gate None comes too early, none departs too late; (For I, who hold fage Homer's rule the best, Welcome the coming, fpeed the going guest.) 160 "Pray heaven it laft! (cries Swift) as you go on; "I wish to God this houfe had been your own: "Pity! to build, without a fon or wife; "Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life." Well, if the ufe be mine, can it concern one, Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon? What's Property? dear Swift! you fee it alter From you to me, from me to Peter Walter; Or, in a mortgage, prove a Lawyer's fhare; Or, in a jointure, vanish from the heir; Or in pure f equity (the cafe not clear) The Chancery takes your rents for twenty year: At beft, it falls to fome & ungracious fon, Who cries, "My father's damn'd, and all 's

my own." Shades,


O pueri, nituiftis, ut huc novus incola venit?
Nam propriae telluris herum natura neque illum,
Nec me, nec quemquam ftatuit. nos expulit ille;
Illum aut nequities aut f vafri infcitia juris,
Poftremum expellet certe & vivacior heres.


Nunc ager Umbreni fub nomine, nuper Ofelli Dictus erat: nulli proprius; fed cedit in ufum



Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford,
Become the portion of a booby Lord;
And Hemiley, once proud Buckingham's delight,
Slides to a Scrivener, or a City Knight.

Let lands and houfes have what lords they will,
Let Us be fix'd, and our own masters still.

Nunc mihi, nunc alii. i quocirca vivite fortes,
Fortiaque adverfis opponite pectora rebus..



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T. JOHN, whofe love indulg'd my labours paft, Matures my prefent, and shall bound my last! Why b will you break the fabbath of my days? Now fick alike of Envy and of Praise. Public too long, ah let me hide my Age! See modeft Cibber now has left the Stage: Our Generals now, a retir'd to their Eftates, Hang their Old Trophies o'er the Garden gates, In Life's cool Evening fatiate of Applaufe, Nor fond of bleeding, ev'a in BRUNSWICK's caufe. f A vole there is, that wipers in my ear, ('Tis Reafon's voice, which fometimes one can hear) "Friend Pope! be prudent, let your Mufe take breath, "And never gallop Tegafus to death;




RIMA dicte mihi, fumma dicende camena,

Spectatum fatis, et donatum jam rude, quaeris,

Maecenas, iterum antiquo me includere ludo.
Non eadem eft aetas, non mens. Veianius, armis
Herculis ad poftem fixis, latet abditus agro;
Ne populum extrema toties exoret arena.

Eft mihi purgatam crebro qui personet aurem;
Solve fenefcentem mature fanus equum, ne



"Left ftiff, and stately, void of fire or force,
"You limp, like Blackmore, on a Lord Mayor's horse."
Farewell then h Vérse, and Love, and every Toy,
The Rhymes and Rattles of the Man or Boy;
What i right, what true, what fit we justly call,
Let this be all my care-for this is All:
To lay this harvest up, and hoard with haste,
What every day will want, and most, the last.
But ask not, to what Doctors I apply?
Sworn to no Mafter, of no Sect am I:





As drives them ftorm, at any door I knock,
And house with Montagne now, or now with Locke:
Sometimes a Patriot, active in debate,
Mix with the World, and battle for the State,
Free as young Lyttelton, her caufe pursue,
Still true to Virtue, and as warm as true:
Sometimes with Ariftippus, or St. Paul,
Indulge my candour, and grow all to all;



* Condo, et compono, quae mox depromere poffim.
Ac ne forte roges, quo me duce, quo Lare tuter:
Nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri,
m Quo me cunque rapit tempeftas, deferor hofpes.
Nunc agilis fio, et merfor " civilibus undis,
Virtutis verae cuftos, rigidufque fatelles :




Peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat.
Nunc itaque et h verfus, et caetera ludicra pono:
Quid i verum atque decens, curo et rogo, et omnis in

hoc fum:

Back to my P native Moderation flide,

And win my way by yielding to the tide.

4 Long, as to him who works for debt, the day, 35 Long as the Night to her whofe Love 's away, Long as the Year's dull circle feems to run, When the brisk Minor pants for twenty-one; So flow th' unprofitable moments roll, That lock up all the Functions of my soul; That keep me from myfelf; and ftill delay Life's inftant business to a future day:


That tafk, which as we follow, or despise,
The eldest is a fool, the youngest wise:
Which done, the pooreft can no wants endure;
And which not done, the richest must be poor.
Late as it is, I put myself to school,
And feel fome " comfort, not to be a fool.


Weak though I am of limb, and fhort of fight, Far from a Lynx, and not a Giant quite:

Nunc in Ariftippi P furtim praecepta relabor,
Et mihi res, non me rebus, fubjungere conor.



50 I'll

9 Ut nox longa, quibus mentitur amica; diefque Lenta videtur opus' debentibus: ut piger annus Pupillis, quos dura premit cuftodia matrum: Sic mihi tarda fluunt ingrataque tempora, quae fpem Confiliumque morantur agendi gnaviter id, quod Aeque pauperibus prodeft, locupletibus aeque, Aeque neglectum pueris fenibufque nocebit.

'Restat, ut his ego me ipfe regam "folerque elementis: * Non poffis oculo quantum contendere Lynceus;

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