Obferv'd a parfon near Whitehall
Cheapening old authors on a ftall.
The priest was pretty well in cafe,
And how'd fome humour in his face;
Look'd with an eafy, careless mien,
A perfect ftranger to the spleen;
Offize that might a pulpit fill,
But more inclining to fit ftill.

My Lord (who, if a man may say 't, Laves mifchief better than his meat) Was now difpos'd to crack a jeft, And bid friend Lewis * go in quest, (This Lewis is a cunning shaver, And very much in Harley's favour) la quest who might this parfon be, What was his name, of what degree; li poffible, to learn his story,

And whether he were Whig or Tory.
Lewis his patron's humour knows,
Away upon his errand goes,
And quickly did the matter fift;
Found out that it was Doctor Swift,
A clergyman of fpecial note

For fhunning thofe of his own coat;
Which made his brethren of the gown
Take care betimes to run him down:
No libertine, nor over nice,

Addicted to no fort of vice,

Went where he pleas'd, said what he thought;

Not rich, but ow'd no man a groat:
In fate opinions à la mode,

He hated Wharton Hike a toad,
Had given the faction many a wound,
And bel'd all the junto round;
Apt company with men of wit,
Who often father'd what he writ:

His works were hawk'd in every street,
but feldom rose above a sheet:
Of late indeed the paper-ftamp
Did very much his genius cramp:
And fince he could not spend his fire,
He cow intended to retire.
Said Harley, "I defire to know
From his own mouth if this be fo;
Step to the Doctor straight, and say,
I'd have him dine with me to-day."
Swift feem'd to wonder what he meant,
Nor would believe my Lord had fent ;
never offer'd once to ftir;
But coldly faid, "Your fervant, Sir!"
**Does he refufe me?" Harley cry'd;
He does, with infolence and pride."
Some few days after, Harley spies
The Doctor faften'd by the eyes
At Charing-crofs among the rout,
Where painted monsters are hung out:
He pulled the ftring, and ftopt his coach,
Beckoning the Doctor to approach.
Swift, who could neither fly nor hide,
Came ineaking to the chariot fide,
And offer'd many a lame excufe :
He never meant the least abuse---
My Lord--the honour you defign'd-..
Extremely proud--but I had din'd---

"I'm fure I never fhould neglect---
"No man alive has more refpect---"
"Well, I shall think of that no more,
"if you'll be fure to come at four."

The Doctor now obeys the fummons,
Likes both his company and commons;
Difplays his talent, fits till ten;
Next day invited comes again;
Soon grows domeftic, feldom fails
Either at morning or at meals:
Came early, and departed late;
In short, the gudgeon took the bait.
My Lord would carry on the jeft,
And down to Wind for takes his gueft.
Swift much admires the place and air,
And longs to be a canon there;
In fummer round the park to ride;
In winter, never to refide.

A canon! that 's a place too mean;
No Doctor, you shall be a Dean;
Two dozen canons round your ftall,
And you the tyrant o'er them all:
You need but croís the Irish feas,
To live in plenty, power, and ease.
Poor Swift departs; and, what is worse,
With borrow'd money in his purse,
Travels at least an hundred leagues,
And fuffers numberless fatigues.

Suppose him now a Dean complete,
Demurely lolling in his seat ;

The filver verge, with decent pride,
Stuck underneath his cushion-fide:
Suppofe him gone through all vexations,
Patents, inftalments, abjurations,
Firft-fruits and tenths, and chapter-treats;
Dues, payments, fees, demands, and cheats---
(The wicked laity's contriving

To hinder clergymen from thriving).
Now all the Doctor's money 's fpent,
His tenants wrong him in his rent;
The farmers, spitefully combin'd,
Force him to take his tithes in kind:
And Parvifol⚫ discounts arrears
By bills for taxes and repairs.

Poor Swift, with all his loffes vex'd,
Not knowing where to turn him next,
Above a thousand pounds in debt,
Takes horfe, and in a mighty fret
Rides day and night at fuch a rate,
He foon arrives at Harley's gate;
But was fo dirty, pale, and thin,
Old Read would hardly let him in.

Said Harley, "Welcome, Reverend Dean! "What makes your worship look fo lean? "Why, fure you won't appear in town "In that old wig and rufty gown? "I doubt your heart is fet on pelf "So much, that you neglect yourself. "What! I fuppofe, now ftocks are high "You've fome good purchase in your eye? "Or is your money out at use?"

"Truce, good my Lord, I beg a truce," (The Doctor in a paffion cry'd)

"Your raillery is mifapply'd;

*The Dean's agent, a Frenchman.
The Lord Treasurer's porter.

"Experience I have dearly bought; "You know I am not worth a groat: "But you refolv'd to have your jeft; "And 'twas a folly to conteft; "Then, fince you have now done your worst, "Pray leave me where you found me first.”

HORACE, BOOK II. SAT. VI.

I've often wish'd that I had clear,
For life, fix 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 fet out to plant a wood.
Well, now I have all this and more,

I ask not to increase my store;
But here a grievance feems to lie,
All this is mine but till I die;

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,

By any trick, or any fault;
And if I pray by reafon's rules,
And not like forty other fools:

As thus, "Vouchsafe, oh 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 ftation fits

And to be kept in my right wits,
Preferve, Almighty Providence!

Juft what you gave me, competence:
And let me in thefe fhades compofe
Something in verfe as true as profe;
Remov'd from all th' ambitious scene,
Nor puff'd by pride, nor funk by spleen.'
In short, I'm perfectly content,
Let me but live on this fide Trent;
Nor cross the Channel twice a year,
To spend fix months with statesmen here.
I must 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."
The toil, the danger of the feas,
Great Minifters ne'er think of thefe ;
Or let it cost five hundred pound,
No matter where the money's found,
It is but fo much more in debt,
And that they ne'er confider'd yet.

"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 should I thruft myself between?
Some wag obferves me thus perplex'd,
And, fmiling, whispers to the next,

I thought the Dean had been too proud, "To justle here among the crowd!" Another, in a furly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit, "So eager to express your love,

"You ne'er confider whom you shove.

"But rudely prefs before a duke."
I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to show
What I defire the world should know.
I get a whisper, and withdraw;
When twenty fools I never faw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Defiring I would stand their friend.

This humbly offers me his cafe--That begs my intereft 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 caufe is gone---" The duke expects my lord and you, About fome great affair, at two--"Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind, "To get my warrant quickly fign'd: "Confider, 'tis my firft requeft." Be fatisfy'd, I'll do my best. Then presently he falls to teaze, "You may for certain, if you please: "I doubt not, if his lordship knew--

66

And, Mr. Dean, one word from you---" 'Tis (let me fee) 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; What's o'clock? And,

As,

wind?"

"How's t

"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 Windfor, and again to town, Where all that paffes inter nos Might he proclaim'd at Charing-crofs. Yet fome I know with envy fwell, Because they see 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, tête à tête ;

"What! they admire him for his jokes! "See but the fortune of fome folks!"

There flies about a strange report Of fome exprefs arriv'd at court: I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet, And catechis'd in every street. "You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great; "Inform us, 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 jeft! "'Tis now no fecret"--I protest 'Tis one to me---" Then tell us, pray, "When are the troops to have their pay?" And, though I folemnly declare

I know no more than my lord mayor, They ftand amaz'd, and think me grown The clofeft mortal ever known.

By an old

*

*

pursued

*

A crazy prelatet, and a royal prude‡;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On every genius that attempts to rife;
And, pausing o'er a pipe with doubtful nod,
Give hints that poets ne'er believe in God:
So clowns on scholars as on wizards look,
And take a folio for a conjuring book.

Swift had the fin of wit, no venial crime;
Nay, 'tis affirm'd he fometimes dealt in rhyme :
Humour and mirth had place in all he writ;
He reconcil'd divinity and wit;

[grace; He mov'd, and bow'd, and talk'd with too much Nor fhow'd the parfon in his gait or face; Deípis'd luxurious wines and costly meat, Yet ftill was at the tables of the great; Frequented lords, faw thofe that faw the Queen; At Child's for Truby's never once had been; Where town and country vicars flock in tribes, Secur'd by numbers from the laymen's gibes, And deal in vices of the graver fort, Tobacco, cenfure, coffee, pride, and port. But, after fage monitions from his friends, His talents to employ for nobler ends; To better judgments willing to submit, He turns to politics his dangerous wit.

And now, the public intereft to support,
By Harley Swift invited comes to court;
In favour grows with ministers of state;
Admitted private, when fuperiors wait:
And Harley, not afham'd his choice to own,
Takes him to Windsor in his coach alone.
At Windfor Swift no feoner can appear,
But St. John comes and whispers in his ear:
The waiters ftand in ranks; the yeoman cry,
Make room, as if a duke were palling by.
Now Finch¶ alarms the Lords: he hears for
certain

This dangerous priest is got behind the curtain.
Finch, fam'd for tedious elocution, proves

That Swift oils many a fpring which Harley

"A certain doctor is obferv'd of late
"To haunt a certain minifter of state;
"From whence with half an eye we may dif
66 cover
[over."
"The peace is made, and Perkin muft come
York is from Lambeth fent, to fhow the Queen
A dangerous treatise writ against the spleen;
Which, by the ftyle, the matter, and the drift,
'Tis thought could be the work of none but
Swift.

Poor York the harmless tool of others' hate';
He fues for pardont, and repents too late.

Now, angry Somersett her vengeance vows
On Swift's reproaches for her *****
From her red locks her mouth with venom fills;
And thence into the royal ear inftills.
The Queen incens'd, his fervices forgot,
Leaves him a victim to the vengeful Scot §.
Now through the realm a proclamation spread,
To fix a price on his devoted head {].
While innocent, he fcorns ignoble flight;
His watchful friends preferve him by a fleight.
By Harley's favour once again he fhines;
Is now carefs'd by candidate divines,
Who change opinions with the changing scene:
Lord! how were they mistaken in the Dean!
Now Delawar¶ again familiar grows,

And in Swift's ear thrufts half his powder'd nose. The Scottish nation, whom he durft offend, Again apply that Swift would be their friend**,

By faction tir'd, with grief he waits awhile, His great contending friends to reconcile, Performs what friendship, juftice, truth, require: What could he more, but decently retire?

THE FAGGOT.

WRITTEN WHEN THE MINISTRY WERE AT
VARIANCE. 1713.

OBSERVE the dying father speak :
Try, leds, can you this bundle break?
Then bids the youngest of the fix
Take up a well bound heap of ticks.
They thought it was an old man's maggot,
And ftrove by turns to break the faggot :
In vain; the complicated wands
Were much too ftrong for all their hands.
See, faid the fire, how foon 'tis done;
Then took and broke them one by one.
So ftrong you'll be, in friendship ty'd;
So quickly broke, if you divide.
Keep close then, boys, and never quarrel:
Here ends the fable and the moral.

This tale may be apply'd in few words
To treasurers, comptrollers, stewards;

• Tale of a Tub.

He fent a meage to af Swift's pardon.
See the Windfor prophecy.
The Duke of Argyll.

For writing "The Public Spirit of Whigs.” Then lord treasurer of the household, who cautiously avoided Swift whilst the proclamation was impending.

** He was vifited by the Scottish lords more than ever.

And others who in folemn fort
Appear with lender wands at court;
Not firmly join'd to keep their ground,
But lathing one another round:
While wife men think they ought to fight
With quarter-ftaffs, inftead of white;
Or conftable with staff of peace

Should come and make the clattering cease,
Which now disturbs the Queen and court,
And gives the Whigs and rabble sport.
In history we never found

The Confuls' Fafces were unbound:

Those Romans were too wife to think on't,
Except to lafh fome grand delinquent.
How would they blush to hear it said,
The Prætor broke the Conful's head!
Or Conful, in his purple gown,
Came up, and knock'd the Prætor down!
Come, Courtiers: every man his stick!
Lord Treasurer, for once be quick:
And, that they may the closer cling,
Take your blue ribbon for a string.

Come, trimming Harcourt", bring your mace;
And fqueeze it in, or quit your place:
Dispatch, or else that rafcal Northeyt
Will undertake to do it for thee:
And be affar'd, the Court will find him
Prepar'd to leap o'er flicks, or bind 'em.

To make the bundle strong and safe,
Great Ormond, lend thy General's staff:
And, if the Crofier could be cramm'd in,
A fig for Lechmere, King, and Hambden!
You'll then defy the ftrongest Whig
With both his hands to bend a twig;
Though with united strength they all pull,
From Somers down to Craggs and Walpole.

CATULLUS DE LESBIA.

LESTIA for ever on me rails,
To talk of me the never fails.
Now, hang me but for all her art,
I find, that I have gain'd her heart.
My proof is thus: 1 plainly fee,
The cafe is juft the fame with me;
I curfe her every hour fincerely,
Yet, hang me but I love her dearly.

EPIGRAM.
From the French.

Who can believe with common sense,
A bacon-flice gives God offence;
Or, how a herring hath a charm
Almighty vengeance to disarm?
Wrapt up in Majesty divine,
Does he regard on what we dine?.

On a CURATE's Complaint of HARD DUTY.
I MARCH'D three miles through fcorching fand,
With zeal in heart, and notes in hand;

*Lord Chancellor.

Sir Edward Northey, Attorney General. Written extempore by a gentleman who was reproved by fome of his companions for eating eggs and bacon on a faft-day.

I rode four more to Great St. Mary,
Ufing four legs when two were weary:
To three fair virgins I did tie men,
In the close bands of pleafing Hymen:
I dipp'd two babes in holy water,
And purify'd their mother after.
Within an hour, and eke a half,

I preach'd three congregations deaf;
Where thundering out, with lungs long winded,
I chopp'd fo faft, that few there minded.
My emblem, the laborious fun,

Saw all these mighty labours done
Before one race of his was run.

All this perform'd by Robert Hewit:
What mortal elfe could e'er go through it!

}

A True and Faithful INVENTORY of the GOOD belonging to Dr. SWIFT, Vicar of Laracor;

Upon lending his Houfe to the Bishop of Meath, till bis Palace was re-built.

AN Oaken, broken elbow-chair;
A cawdle-cup, without an ear;
A batter'd, shatter'd ash bedstead;
A box of deal, without a lid;
A pair of tongs, but out of joint;
A backfword-poker, without point;
A pot that's crack'd across, around
With an old knotted garter bound;
An iron lock, without a key;
A wig, with hanging quite grown gray;
A curtain worn to half a stripe;
A pair of bellows, without pipe ;

A dish which might good meat afford once;
An Ovid, and an old Concordance;
A bottle bottom, wooden platter,
One is for meal, and one for water:
There likewife is a copper fkillet,
Which runs as faft out as you fill it;
A candlestick, fnuff-difh, and fave-all:
And thus his household goods you have all.
These to your Lordship as a friend,
Till you have built, I freely lend:
They'll ferve your Lordship for a shift;
Why not, as well as Doctor Swift?

CADENUS AND VANESSA *.

WRITTEN AT WINDSOR, 1718.
THE shepherds and the nymphs were feen
Pleading before the Cyprian Queen.
The counfel for the fair began,
Accufing the falfe creature man.

The brief with weighty crimes was charg'd,
On which the pleader much enlarg'd;
That Cupid now has loft his art,
Or blunts the point of every dart ;---
His altar now no longer fmokes,
His mother's aid no youth invokes :
This tempts freethinkers to refine,
And bring in doubt their powers divine;

*Founded on an offer of marriage made by Mifs Vanhomrigh to Dr. Swift, who was occafionally her preceptor.

Now love is dwindled to intrigue,
And marriage grown a money league.
Which crimes aforesaid (with her leave)
Were (as be bumbly did conceive)
Againt our fovereign lady's peace,
Again the ftatute in that case,
Agant her dignity and crown:
Then pray'd an answer, and fat down.

The symphs with fcorn beheld their foes:
When the defendant's counsel rose,
And, what no lawyer ever lack'd,
With impudence own'd all the fact;
But, what the gentleft heart would vex,
Land all the fault on t'other sex.
That modern love is no fuch thing
As what thofe ancient poets fing;
A fire celeftial, chafte, refin'd,
Conceiv'd and kindled in the mind;
Which, having found an equal flame,
Unites, and both become the fame,
hdifferent breafts together burn,
Together both to afhes turn.
But women now feel no fuch fire,
And only know the grofs defire.
Their paions move in lower spheres,
Where'er caprice or folly steers,
A dog, a parrot, or an ape,

Or fome worfe brute in human shape,
gros the fancies of the fair,
The few foft moments they can spare,
From vifts to receive and pay;
Frem fcandal, politics, and play;
From fans, and flounces, and brocades,
From equipage and park-parades,
From all the thoufand female toys,
From every trifle that employs
The out or infide of their heads,
Between their toilets and their beds.

In a dull ftream, which moving flow,
Yon hardly fee the current flow;
Faimall breeze obftruct the course,
whirls about, for want of force,
And in its narrow circle gathers
thing but chaff, and ftraws and feathers.
The current of a female mind
Stops thus, and turns with every wind;
The whirling round together draws
Tools, fops, and rakes, for chaff and straws,
Hence we conclude, no women's hearts
Are won by virtue, wit, and parts:
Nor are the men of fenfe to blame,
For breats incapable of flame;

The fault muft on the nymphs be plac'd,
¦ Grown to corrupted in their tafte.

The pleader, having fpoke his best,
Had witness ready to attest,
Who fairly could on oath depose,
When questions on the fact arofe,
That every article was true;
Nor further thefe deponents knew:
Therefore he humbly would infist,
The bill might be with cofts difmis'd.
The caufe appear'd of fo much weight,
That Venus, from her judgment-feat,
Der'd them not to talk fo loud,
Le the muft interpofe a cloud:

For if the heavenly folk fhould know
These pleadings in the courts below,
That mortals here difdain to love,
She ne'er could show her face above;
For gods, their betters, are too wide
To value that which men despise.
And then, faid fhe, my fon and I
Muft ftroll in air, 'twixt land and sky ;
Or.elfe, shut out from heaven and earth,
Fly to the fea, my place of birth;
There live, with daggled mermaids pent,
And keep on fish perpetual Lent.

But, fince the cafe appear'd fo nice,
She thought it beft to take advice.
The Mufes, by their King's permiffion
Though foes to love, attend the feffion,
And on their right hand took their places
In order; on the left, the Graces:
To whom the might her doubts propose
On all emergencies that rofe.

The Mufes oft' were seen to frown;
The Graces half-asham'd look down;
And 'twas obferv'd, there were but few
Of either sex among the crew,
Whom the or her affeffors knew.
The goddess foon began to fee,
Things were not ripe for a decree;
And faid she must confult her books,
The lovers' Fletas, Bractons, Cokes.
First to a dapper clerk she beckon'd,
To turn to Ovid, book the second;
She then referr'd them to a place
In Virgil (vide Dido's cafe):
As for Tibullus's reports,

They never pafs'd for law in courts:
For Cowley's briefs, and pleas of Waller,
Still their authority was smaller.

There was on both fides much to say:
She'd hear the cause another day.
And fo fhe did; and then a third
She heard it---there fhe kept her word:]
But, with rejoinders or replies,
Long bills, and answers ftuff'd with lies
Demur, imparlance, and effoign,
The parties ne'er could iffue join:
For fixteen years the cause was spun,
And then stood where it first begun.

Now, gentle Clio, fing or fay,
What Venus meant by this delay.
The goddess, much perplex'd in mind
To fee her empire thus declin'd,
When first this grand debate arose,
Above her wisdom to compofe,
Conceiv'd a project in her head
To work her ends; which, if it sped,
Would show the merits of the cause
Far better than confulting laws.
In a glad hour Lucina's aid
Produc'd on earth a wondrous maid,
On whom the Queen of love was bent
To try a new experiment.

She threw her law-books on the shelf,
And thus debated with herself.

Since men allege, they ne'er can find
Those beauties in a female mind,
Which raise a flame that will endure
For ever uncorrupt and pure;