Where all that passes, inter nos,
Might be proclaimed 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-tête.
What, they admire him for his jokes-
See but the fortune of some folks!"
There flies about a strange report,
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 tost,
My choicest hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my country seat!
There, leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book,
communicate to each other the good things that came into their heads.
1 Royal Proclamations were read at Charing Cross.
2 The Emperor of Austria was
thrown over by the English Government, who negotiated the Treaty of Utrecht without consulting his inte
And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those cares that haunt the court and town.
O charming noons! and nights divine!'
Or when I sup, or when I dine;
My friends above, my folks below,
Chatting and laughing all a-row:
The beans and bacon set before 'em,
The grace-cup served with all decorum :
Each willing to be pleased, and please,
And e'en the very dogs at ease!
Here no man prates of idle things,
How this or that Italian sings,
A neighbour's madness, or his spouse's,
Or what's in either of the Houses :
But something much more our concern,
And quite a scandal not to learn:
Which is the happier, or the wiser,
A man of merit, or a miser?
Whether we ought to choose our friends
For their own worth, or our own ends?
What good, or better, we may call,
And what, the very best of all ?
Our friend Dan Prior, told (you know)
A tale extremely à propos :
Name a town-life, and in a trice
He had a story of two mice.
Once on a time (so runs the fable)
A country mouse, right hospitable,
Received a town mouse at his board,
Just as a farmer might a lord.
A frugal mouse upon the whole,
Yet loved his friend, and had a Soul,
1 Swift's verses end with v. 132. The rest is by Pope. It will be observed that the style becomes more polished and pointed, but much less rapid and easy.
2 Dan Prior; like Spenser's "Dan Chaucer." Dan is the abbreviation for "dominus." Prior's "tale" was of course, The Town and Country Mouse, written in conjunction with
Knew what was handsome, and would do't,
On just occasion, coûte qui coûte.
He brought him bacon (nothing lean),
Pudding that might have pleased a dean;
Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
But wished it Stilton for his sake;
Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,
He ate himself the rind and paring.
Our courtier scarce would touch a bit,
But showed his breeding and his wit;
He did his best to seem to eat,
And cried, "I vow you're mighty neat.
But Lord! my friend, this savage scene!
For God's sake come and live with men :
Consider mice, like men, must die,
Both small and great, both you and I:
Then spend your life in joy and sport,
(This doctrine, friend, I learned at Court)."
The veriest hermit in the nation
May yield, God knows, to strong temptation.
Away they come, through thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's Inn ;'
('Twas on the night of a debate
When all their lordships had sat late).
Behold the place, where if a poet
Shined in description, he might show it;
Tell how the moonbeam trembling falls,
And tips with silver all the walls;
Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grotesco roofs, and stucco floors:
But let it (in a word) be said,
The moon was up, and men a-bed,
The napkins white, the carpet red :
Montague, in ridicule of Dryden's
Hind and Panther.
1 The house of the Prince of Wales,
at that time the head-quarters of the Opposition, was in Lincoln's Inn Fields.
The guests withdrawn had left the treat,
And down the mice sat tête-à-tête.
Our courtier walks from dish to dish,
Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish;
Tells all their names, lays down the law,
"Que ça est bon! Ah, goûtez ça!
That jelly's rich, this malmsey healing,
Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in."
Was ever such a happy swain?
He stuffs, and swills, and stuffs again.
"I'm quite ashamed-'tis mighty rude
To eat so much-but all's so good.
I have a thousand thanks to give—
My lord alone knows how to live."
No sooner said, but from the hall
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all:
"A rat, a rat! clap to the door".
The cat comes bouncing on the floor.
O for the heart of Homer's mice,
Or gods to save them in a trice!
(It was by Providence they think,
For your damned stucco has no chink.)
"An't please your honour," quoth the peasant, "This same dessert is not so pleasant:
Give me again my hollow tree,
A crust of bread, and liberty!"
THIS Imitation was registered at Stationers' Hall, 8 March, 1736, as follows: "Horace, his Ode to Venus, Lib. 4, Ode 1. Imitated by Mr. Pope;" the owner of the copyright being John Wright.
It is written with that air of exquisite breeding, in which Pope has no superior, nay probably no equal, and for lightness of touch deserves to be classed with the Rape of the Lock, and the Epistle to Miss Blount on her leaving town before the Coronation."
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