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Because the infult's not on man, but God?
But pray, when others praise him, do I blame? | And each blafphemer quite cfcape the rod,
When Paxton gives him double pots and pay :
F. Hold, Sir, for God's fake! where's the af-
Against your worship when had S—k writ?
Whoever borrow'd could not be to blame,
F. This filthy fimile, this beaftly line
P. So does flatt'ry mine:
And muft no cgg in Japhet's face be thrown,
Afk you, what provocation I have had?
P. So proud, I am no flave:
O facred weapon! left for truth's defence;
When black ambition stains a public cause,
Not fo, when diadem'd with rays divine, Touch'd with the flame that breaks from Vir tue's fhrine,
Her priestess Muse forbids the good to die,
And baik at honour not conferr'd by kings;
Yes, the laft pen for freedom let me draw,
Nor one that temperance advance, Cramm'd to the throat with ortolans: Extremely ready to refign
Imitations of Horace. POPE.
EPISTLE VII. Imitated in the manner of Dr. Swift.
IS time, my Lord, I gave my word I would be with you, June the third; Chang'd it to Auguft, and, in fhort, Have kept it as you do at court. You humour me when I ain sick, Why not when I am splenetic ? In town, what objects could I meet? The fhops fhut up in ev'ry ftrect, And fun'rals black'ning all the doors, And yet more melancholy whores! And what a duft in ev'ry place? And a thin court that wants your face, And fevers raging up and down, And W
and H** both in town!
"The dog-days are no more the cafe." 'Tis true, but winter comes apace: Then fouthward let your bard retire, Hold out fome months 'twixt fun and fire, And fhall fee the firft warm weather, you Me and the butterflies together.
My Lord, your favours well I know;
Pray take them, Sir, enough's a feast:
Now this I'll fay, you'll find in me
All that may make me none of mine. South-Sea fubfcriptions take who please, Leave me but liberty and cafe : 'Twas what I faid to Craggs and Child, Who prais'd my modefty, and fmil'd. Give me, I cry'd (enough for me) My bread, and independency! So bought an annual rent or two, And liv'd-juft as you fee I do, Near fifty, and without a wife, I trust that finking fund, my life. Can I retrench? Yes, mighty well, Shrink back to my paternal cell, A little houfe, with trees a row, And, like its master, very low. There dy'd my father, no man's debtor; And there I'll die, nor worse nor better. To fet this matter full before ye, Our old friend Swift will tell his story. "Harley, the nation's great fupport," But you may read it, I flop fhort.
The first part imitated in the year 1714, by Dr.
I'VE often wifh'd that I had clear
I can't but think 'twould found more clever, "To me and to my heirs for ever."
'If I ne'er got or loft a groat
As thus: "Vouchfafe, oh gracious Maker!
I inuft by all means come to town, 'Tis for the fervice of the Crown. "Lewis, the Dean will be of use; "Send for him up, take no excufe." Q4
The toil, the danger of the feas,
"Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, "Let my Lord know you're come to town." I hurry me in hafte 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 fhould I thruft myfelf between ? Some wag obferves me thus perplex'd, And, fmiling, whispers to the next, "I thought the Dean had been too proud "To juftie here among a crowd.” Another, in a furly fit,
Tells me I have more zeal than wit:
This humbly offers me his cafe-
To-morrow my appeal comes on;
Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind, "To get my warrant quickly fign'd: • Confider, 'tis my fuft requeft."Be fatisfy'd, I'll do my beft: Then prefently he falls to teize, "You may for certain, if you pleafe; "I doubt not, if his Lordfhip knew"And, Mr Dean, one word from you-" 'Tis (let me fee) three years and more, (October next it will be four) Since Harley Lid me firft attend, And chofe me for an humble friend; Would take ine in his coach to chat, And queftion me of this and that;
As, What's o'clock?' and, How's the wind?'
Or gravely try to read the lines
"From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?” Such tattle often entertains
My Lord and me as far as Stains;
To Windfor, and again to Town;
Yet fome I know with envy fwell, Becaufe they fee me us'd fo well: "How think you of our friend the Dean? "I wonder what fome people mean; "My Lord and he are grown fo great, Always together tete-a-tete.
"What, they admire him for his jokes-
I know no more than my Lord Mayor,
Thus, in a fea of folly toft,
A neighbour's madnefs, or his spouse's,
'Our friend Dan Prior told (you know)
Knew what was handtome, and would do't,
On juft occafion, coute qui coute.
v yield, God knows, to ftrong temptation. they come, thro' thick and thin,
To a ta'l houfe near Lincoln's Inn:
Rubord the place, where if a poet
Our courtier walks from difh to dish, Taftes for his friend of fowl and fifh; Tells all their names, lays down the law, "Que ca eft bon! Ah goutez ca! "That jelly's rich, this malmfey healing; "Pray dip your whifkers and your tail in." Was ever fuch a happy fwain
He ftuffs and fwills, and stuffs again.
My lord alone knows how to live." No fooner faid, but from the hall Ruth chaplain, butler, dogs and all : "A rat! a rat! clap too the door."The cat comes bouncing on the floor! O for the heart of Homer's mice, Or gods to fave them in a trice!
(It was by Providence they think,
For your damn'd Stucco has no chink.)
An't please your honour," quoth the peasant,
"This fame defert is not fo pleasant :
"A crust of bread, and liberty !”
“Give me again my hollow tree,
ODE I. Book IV.
AGAIN, new tumults in my breast? Ah fpare me, Venus! let me, let me rest! I am not now, alas! the man
As in the gentle reign of my queen Anne.
Ah found no more thy foft alarms,
To charm the miftrefs, or to fix the friend.
Shall ftretch thy conquefts over half the kind:
Then fhall thy form the marble grace (Thy Grecian form) and Chloe lend the face: His houfe embofom'd in the grove,
Sacred to focial life and focial love,
Shall glitter o'er the pendent green, Where Thames reflects the vifionary scene: Thither the filver founding lyres
Shall call the fmiling loves and young defires; There, ev'ry grace and mufe thall throng, Exalt the dance, or animate the fong;
There youths and nymphs, in confort gay, Shall hail the rifing, clofe the parting day. With me, alas! thofe joys are o'er; For me the vernal garlands bloom no more. Adieu, fond hope of mutual fire! The ftill-believing, ftill-renew'd defire; Adieu the heart-expanding bowl, And all the kind deceivers of the foul! But why? Ah tell me, ah too dear! Steals down my cheek th'involuntary tear? Why words fo flowing, thoughts so free, Stop, or turn nonfenfe, at one glance of thee? Thee, dreft in fancy's airy beam, Abfent I follow thro' th'extended dream; Now, now I ceafe, I clafp thy charms, And now you burft (ah cruel!) from my arms; And swiftly fhoot along the inall,
Or foftly glide by the canal;
Now thown by Cynthia's filver And now on rolling waters fnatch'd away.
20. The Traveller ; or, a Proßelt of Swiety *. And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find Inscribed to the Rev. Mr. H. Goldsmith.
Some spot to real happiness conlign'd;
Where my worn foul, each wand'ring hope at rex, By Dr. GOLDSMITH.
May gather bliss to see iny fellows bless'd. REMOTE; unfriended, melancholy: now: but where to find that happiest fpot below,
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wand'ring Po; Who can direct, when all pretend to know? Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor The shuud'ring tenant of the frigid zone Against the houseless ftranger Thuts the door; Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own ; Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies, Extols the treasures of his storiny seas, A weary waste expanding to the skies;
And his long nights of revelry and ease : Where'er I roam, whatever realıns to see, The naked negro, panting at the line, My heart untravell’d, fondly turns to thee : Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine; Still to my brother tums, with ccafeless pain, Basks in the glare, or steins the tepid wave, And drags, at each remove, a length’ning chain. And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
Eternal bletings crown my carliest friend, Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam; And round his dwelling guardian saints attend; His first, best country, ever is at home. B!css'd bc that (pot where cheerful guests retire; And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,
To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire; And estinate the blessings which they thare, Bless'd that abode where want and pain rcpair, Tho' patriots flatter, still Mall wisdoin find And ev'ry stranger finds a ready chair:
An equal portion dealt to all mankind; Bless'd be those feasts, with simple plenty crown'd, As difl're
rent good, by art or nature given, Where all the ruddy family around
To diff'rent nations, makes their blessings even. Laugh at the jefts or pranks that never fail, Nature, a mother kind alike to all, Or figh with pitv at fome mournful tale; Still grants her bliss at labour's earnest call; Or press the bathful stranger to his food, With food as well the peasant is fupply'd And learn the luxury of dung good!
On Idra's cliffs as Arno's shelvy lide; But me, not destin'd such delights to share, And tho' the rocky-crcstcd fummits froin, My prime of life in wand'ring spent, and care : These rocks by custom turn to beds of down. Impellid, with steps unceasing, to pursue From art morc various are the bleilings fent; Some fleeting good that inocks me with the view; Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content. That, like the circle, bounding earth and skics, Yet these each other's pow's so strong contest, Allures from far, yet as I follow, flies;
That either seeins destructive of the rest. [fails; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment And find no spot of all the world my own. And honour finks where commerce long prevails.
Ev'n now, where Alpine folitudes ascend, Hence ev'ry state, to one lov'd blessing prone, I lit me down a pensive hour to spend;
Conforms and models life to that alone. And plac'd on high, above the form's career, Each to the fav’rite happiness attends, Look downward where an hundred realms appear; And spurns the plan that aims at other ends ; Lakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide, Till carried to excess in cach domain, The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. This fav’rite good begets peculiar pain.
When thus Creation's charms around combine, But let us try these truths with closer eyes, Amidít the store, should thankless pride repine? And trace them thro' the prospect as it lies : Say, should the philofophic mind disdain [vain ? Here for a while, my proper cares relign'd; That good which makes each humbler bofom Here let me fit in forrow for mankind; Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, Like yon neglected thrub at random cast, These little things are great to little man ; That shades the steep, and fighs at ev'ry blast, And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind
Far to the right, where Apennine afcends,
Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast,
Whatever fruits in different climes are found, Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er; That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground; Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, Whatever blooms in torrid tracts
appear, Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still : Whose bright succession decks the varied year; Thus to my breast alternate passions risc, Whatever Iweets salute the northern iky Pleas'd with cach good that Heav'n to man sup- With rernal leaves, that blossom but to die, Yor oft a figh prevails, and sorrows fall, [plics; Thesc, here disporting, own the kindred soil, To see the hoard of human bliss so small; Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil;
* The Reader is not in be informed that chronological order is not intended; but fuck a commixture of caries and later Poems as may furnith the most agrecable variety.