(For 'faith, Lord Fanny! you are in the wrong,
The world's good word is better than a fong)
Who has not learn'd, m fresh sturgeon and ham-pye

Are no rewards for want, and infamy!

When Luxury has lick'd up all thy pelf,

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Curs'd be thy neighbours, thy trustees, thyself,

To friends, to fortune, to mankind a shame,

Think how posterity will treat thy name;

And buy a rope, that fature times may tell

Thou haft at least bestow'd one penny well.

P" Right, cries his Lordship, for a rogue in need

"To have a taste, is insolence indeed :

" In me 'tis noble, suits my birth and state,

My wealth unwieldy, q and my heap too great."

Then, like the Sun, let Bounty spread her ray,
And shine that superfluity away.

Oh Impudence of wealth! with all thy store,
How dar'st thou let one worthy man be poor?

* Iratum patruum, vicinos, te tibi iniquum,

Et fruftra mortis cupidum, cum deerit egenti

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Shalf

P Jure, inquit, Trausius iftis

Jugatur verbis: ego vectigalia magna,

Divitiasque habeo tribus amplas regibus.

Ergo,

Quod fuperat, non est melius quo infumere poffis?
Cur eget indignus quisquam, te divite? quare

Templa ruunt antiqui Deûm? cur improbe, carae

Non aliquid patriae tanto emetiris acervo?

Uni nimirum tibi recte semper erunt res?

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Shall half the new-built churches round thee fall?
Make Keys, build Bridges, or repair Whitehall :
Or to thy Country let that heap be lent,
As M**o's was, but not at five per cent.
* Who thinks that Fortune cannot change her mind,
Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind.
And who stands safest? tell me, is it he
That spreads and swells in puff'd Profperity,
Or bleft with little, whose preventing care
In peace provides fit arms against a war?

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130

Thus BETHEL spoke, who always speaks his thought, And always thinks the very thing he ought: His equal mind I copy what I can, And as I love, would imitate the Man. In South-fea days not happier, when furmis'd The Lord of thousands, than if now Excis'd; In forest planted by a Father's hand, Than in five acres now of rented land.

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Content

* O magnus pofthac inimicis risus! uterne <* Ad cafus dubios fidet fibi certius? hic, qui Pluribus affuêrit mentem corpusque superbum; An qui contentus parvo metuensque futuri, In pace, ut fapiens, aptarit idonea bello ?

u Quo magis his credas: puer hunc ego parvus Ofellum Integris opibus novi non latius usum, "Quam nunc w accisis. Videas, metato in agello, Cum pecore et gnatis, fortem mercede colonum, Non ego, narrantem, temere edi luce profesta

Content with little I can piddle here
On brocoli and mutton, round the year;
But y ancient friends (though poor, or out of play)

That touch my bell, I cannot turn away.

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'Tis true, no z Turbots dignify my boards,

But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames affords:

To Hounflow-heath I point, and Bansted-down,

Thence comes your mutton, and these chicks my own:

* From yon old walnut-tree a shower shall fall;

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And grapes, long-lingering on my only wall,

And figs from standard and espalier join;

The devil is in you if you cannot dine:

Then chearful healths (your Mistress shall have place); And, what's more rare, a Poet shall say Grace.

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Fortune not much of humbling me can boaft:

!

Though double tax'd, how little have I loft!

My

Quidquam, praeter olus fumofae cum pede pernae.
Ac mihi feuy longum poft tempus venerat hofpes,
Sive operum vacuo gratus conviva per imbrem
Vicinus; bene erat, non piscibus urbe petitis,
Sed pullo atque hoedo: tum a penfilis uva secundas
Et nux ornabat mensas, cum duplice ficu.
Poft hoc ludus erat b cuppa potare magistra:
Ac venerata Ceres, ita culmo surgeret alto,
Explicuit vino contractae feria frontis.

Saeviat atque novos moveat Fortuna tumultus! Quantum hinc imminuet? quanto aut ego parcius, aut

VOS,

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My Life's amusements have been just 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 whose free opening gate
None comes too early, none departs too late;

(For I, who hold fage Homer's rule the best,
Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.)

Pray heaven it last! (cries Swift) as you go on; "I wish to God this house had been your own: Pity! to build, without a fon or wife;

Why, you 'll enjoy it only all your life."
Well, if the use be mine, can it concern one,
Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon?
What 's d Property? dear Swift! you fee it alter
From you to me, from me to Peter Walter;
Or, in a mortgage, prove a Lawyer's share;
Or, in a jointure, vanith from the heir;
Or in pure f equity (the cafe not clear)

The Chancery takes your rents for twenty year:
At best, it falls to some & ungracious fon,

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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 Hemsley, once proud Buckingham's delight,
Slides to a Scrivener, or a City Knight.
Let lands and houses 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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18.

BOOK