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To Hounslow-heath I point, and Bansted-down, Thence comes your mutton, and these chicks my
From yon old walnut-tree a shower shall fall,
And grapes, long lingering on my only wall;
And figs from standard and espalier join;
The devil is in you if you cannot dine: [place)
Then cheerful healths, (your mistress shall have
And, what's more rare, a poet shall say grace.
Fortune not much of humbling me can boast;
Though double-tax'd, how little have I lost!
My life's amusements have been just the same,
Before and after standing armies came.
My lands are sold, my father's house is gone;
I'll hire another's; is not that my own, [gate
And yours, my friends? through whose free-opening
None comes too early, none departs too late:
For I, who hold sage 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 son 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 property? dear Swift!-you see it alter
From you to me,
from me to Peter Walter ;
Or in a mortgage prove a lawyer's share,
Or in a jointure vanish from the heir;
Or in pure equity (the case not clear)
The chancery takes your rents for twenty year:
At best it falls to some ungracious son,
Who cries, My father's damn'd, and all's my
Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford, [own.'
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.
THE FIRST PART IMITATED IN THE YEAR 1714, BY DR.
SWIFT; THE LATTER PART ADDED AFTERWARDS.
I'VE often wish'd that I had clear
For life six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace-walk, and half a rood
Of land set out to plant a wood.
Well, now I have all this, and more,
I ask not to increase my store;
But here a grievance seems to lie,
All this is mine but till I die;
I can't but think 'twould sound more clever,
To me and to my heirs for ever.
If I ne'er got or lost a groat
trick or any fault;
And if I pray by reason's rules,
And not like forty other fools,
As thus: Vouchsafe, O gracious Maker!
To grant me this and t'other acre;
Or, if it be thy will and pleasure,
Direct my plough to find a treasure ;
But only what my station fits,
And to be kept in my right wits,
Preserve, almighty Providence!
Just what you gave me, competence;
And let me in these shades compose
Something in verse as true as prose,
Removed from all the' ambitious scene,
Nor puff'd by pride, nor sunk by spleen.'
In short, I'm perfectly content,
Let me but live on this side Trent,
Nor cross the channel twice a year,
To spend six months with statesmen here.
I must by all means come to town,
'Tis for the service of the crown:
Lewis, the Dean will be of use;
Send for him up; take no excuse.'
The toil, the danger of the seas,
Great ministers ne'er think of these;
Or, let it cost five hundred pound,
No matter where the money's found,
It is but so much more in debt,
And that they ne'er consider'd yet.
'Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, Let my lord know you're come to town.' I hurry me in haste away,
Not thinking it is levee-day,
And find his honour in a pound,
Hemm'd by a triple circle round,
Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green:
How should I thrust myself between?
Some wag observes me thus perplex'd,
And, smiling, whispers to the next,
'I thought the Dean had been too proud
To jostle here among a crowd.'
Another, in a surly fit,
Tells me I have more zeal than wit;
'So eager to express your love,
You ne'er consider whom you shove.
But rudely press before a duke.'
I own I'm pleased with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to show
What I desire the world should know.
I get a whisper, and withdraw;
When twenty fools I never saw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Desiring I would stand their friend.
This humbly offers me his case—
That begs my interest for a place—
A hundred other men's affairs,
Like bees, are humming in my ears.
'To-morrow my appeal comes on;
Without your help the cause is gone.'-
'The duke expects my lord and you
About some great affair at two.'-
'Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind
To get my warrant quickly sign'd :
Consider, 'tis my first request.'-
'Be satisfied, I'll do my best:'-
Then presently he falls to tease, –
"You may for certain, if you please;
I doubt not, if his lordship knew—
And, Mr. Dean, one word from you.'--
'Tis (let me see) three years and more
(October next it will be four)
Since Harley bid me first attend,
And chose me for an humble friend;
Would take me in his coach to chat,
And question me of this and that;
As, 'What's o'clock?' and, 'How's the wind?
Whose chariot's that we left behind?'
Or gravely try to read the lines
Writ underneath the country signs;
Or, 'Have you nothing new to-day
From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?"
Such tattle often entertains
My lord and me as far as Staines,
As once a week we travel down
To Windsor, and again to town,
Where all that passes inter nos
Might be proclaim'd at Charing-cross.
Yet some I know with envy swell
Because they see me used so well.
How think you of our friend the Dean? I wonder what some people mean;
My lord and he are grown so great,
Always together tête à téte.
What! they admire him for his jokes-
See but the fortune of some folks!'
There flies about a strange report
Of some express arrived at court;
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechised in every street.
'You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great,
will the emperor treat?
Or do the prints and papers lie?'
'Faith, sir, you know as much as I.'
'Ah! doctor, how you love to jest!
'Tis now no secret.'-'I protest
"Tis one to me.'-'Then tell us, pray,
When are the troops to have their pay?'
And though I solemnly declare
I know no more than my lord-mayor,
They stand amazed, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.
Thus in a sea of folly toss'd, My choicest hours of life are lost;