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I came in without danger, and was I to blame? For, rather than bang, I would be Not-in-game. Ifwore to the Queen, that the Prince of Ha

nover

During her facred life would never come over : I made ufe of a trope; that" an heir to invite, "Was like keeping her monument always in "fight."

But, when I thought proper, I alter'd my note;
And in her own hearing I boldly did vote,

That her Majefty ftood in great need of a Tutor,
And muft have an old or a young Coadjutor:
For why; I would fain have put all in a flame,
Because, for fome reafons, I was Not-in-game.
Now my new benefactors have brought me a-
bout,

And I'll vote against Peace, with Spain, or without
Though the Court gives my nephews, and bro-

thers, and coufins,

And all my whole family, places by dozens;
Yet, fince I know where a full-purfe may be found,
And hardly pay eighteen-pence tax in the pound;
Since the Tories have thus disappointed my hopes,
And will neither regard my figures nor tropes;
I'll Speech against peace while Difmal'sy name,
And be a tree Whig, while I am Not-in-game.

THE WINDSOR PROPHECY. 1711.

WHEN a holy black Swede, the fon of Bob*,
With a faint at his chin, and a feal † at his fob,
Shall not fee one ‡ New-year's-day in that year,
Then let old England make good cheer:
Windfors and Bristow § then shall be
Join'd together in the Low-countree §.
Then fhall the tall black Daventry Bird ||
Speak against peace right many a word;
And fome fhall admire his conying wit,
For many good groats his tongue shall slit.
But, fpight of the Harpy that crawls on all four,
There shall be peace, pardie, and war no more.
But Englond muft cry alack and well-a-day,
If the tick be taken from the dead fea.
And, dear Englond, if aught I understond,
Beware of Carrots ** from Northumberlond.
Carrots fown Thynne †† a deep root may get,
If fo be they are in Somer fet;

Dr. John Robinson, bishop of Bristol, one of the plenipotentiaries at Utrecht.

He was dean of Windfer, and lord privyfeal.

The bifbop fet out from England the latter end of December, O. S.; and on his arrival at Utrecht, by the variation of the flyle, he found January fomewhat advanced.

Alluding to the deanery and bishoprick being poffeffed by the fame perfon, then at Utrecht. Earl of Nottingham.

**The Duchefs of Somerfet.

Thomas Thynne, of Longleate, Efq. a gentleman of very great eftate, married the above lady after the death of her first busband, Henry Cavendifb, Earl of Ogie, only fon to Henry Duke of Newcastle, to whom he had been betrothed in her infancy.

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THIS day (the year I dare not tell)
Apollo play'd the midwife's part;
Into the world Corinna fell,

And he endow'd her with his art.
But Cupid with a Satyr comes:

Both foftly to the cradle creep; Both ftroke her hands, and rub her gums, While the poor child lay fast asleep. Then Cupid thus: This little maid,

Of love shall always fpeak and write. And I pronounce (the Satyr faid)

The world fhall feel her fcratch and bite. Her talent she display'd betimes;

For in twice twelve revolving moons, She feem'd to laugh and fquall in rhymes, And all her gestures were lampoons. At fix years old the fubtle jade

Stole to the pantry door, and found The butler with my lady's maid:

And you may fwear the tale went round.

*Count Koningfmark.

+ Anna.

+ Masham.

§ Lady Mafbam's maiden name was Hill. Infcribed to the phyfician who attended Mr. Harley whilft he lay wounded.

She made a fong, how little mifs

Was kifs'd and flobber'd by a lad: And how, when mafter went to p---,

Mifs came, and peep'd at all he had. At twelve a wit and a coquette;

Marries for love, half whore, half wife; Cuckolds, elopes, and runs in debt;

Turns authorefs, and is Curll's for life.

TOLAND'S INVITATION TO DISMAL,
TO DINE WITH THE CALVES-HEAD CLUB *.
Imitated from Horace, Lib. I. Epift. 5.
Ir, dearest Difmal, you for once can dine
Upon a fingle dish, and tavern- wine,
Toland to you this invitation sends,

To eat the calves-head with your trusty friends.
Sufpend awhile your vain ambitious hopes,
Leave hunting after bribes, forget your tropes.
To-morrow we our myftic feaft prepare,
Where thou, our latest profelyte, fhalt fhare:
When we, by proper figns and symbols, tell,
How, by brave hands, the royal traitor fell;
The meat shall represent the tyrant's head,
The wine his blood our predeceffors fhed;
Whilft an alluding hymn fome artist sings,
We toast, "Confufion to the race of kings!"
At monarchy we nobly show our fpight,
And talk what fools call treafon all the night.
Who, by disgraces or ill-fortune funk,
Feels not his foul enliven'd when he's drunk?
Wine can clear up Godolophin's cloudy face,
And ll Jack Smith with hopes to keep his place:
By force of wine, ev'n Scarborough is brave,
Hal grows more pert, and Somers not fo grave;
Wine can give Portland wit, and Cleveland fenfe,
Montague learning, Bolton eloquence:
Cholmondoley, when drunk, can never lofe his
And Lincoln then imagines he has land. [wand;

My province is, to fee that all be right,
Glaffes and linen clean, and pewter bright;
From our mysterious club to keep out fpies,
And Tories (drefs'd like waiters) in disguise.
You fhall be coupled as you beft approve,
Seated at table next the men you love.
Sunderland, Orford, Boyle, and Richmond's

Grace,

[place.

Will come; and Hampden fhall have Walpole's
Wharton, unless prevented by a whore,
Will hardly fail; and there is room for more.
But I love elbow-room whene'er I drink;
And honeft Harry is too apt to stink.

Let no pretence of bufinefs make you stay;
Yet take one word of counfel by the way.
If Guernsey calls, fend word you're gone abroad;
He'll teaze you with King Charles and Bifhop
Laud,

*This poem, and that which follows it, are two of the penny papers mentioned in Swift's Journal to Stella, Aug. 7. 1712. They are here printed from folio copies in the Lambeth Library.

+ Right Honourable Henry Boyle, mentioned twice before.

Or make you faft, and carry you to prayers:
But, if he will break-in, and walk up stairs,
Steal by the back-door out, and leave him
there;

Then order Squash to call a hackney-chair.

PEACE AND DUNKIRK :

BEING AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG UPON THE SURRENDER OF DUNKIRK TO GENERAL HILL 1712.

To the Tune of " The King fball enjoy his own "again."

SPIGHT of Dutch friends and English foes,
Poor Britain fhall have peace at last:
Holland got towns, and we got blows;
But Dunkirk 's ours, we 'll hold it fast:
We have got it in a string,

And the Whigs may all go fwing,
For among good friends I love to be plain;
All their falfe deluded hopes

Will or ought to end in ropes:
But the Queen fhall enjoy her own again.
Sunderland's run out of his wits,

And Dismal double-Dismal looks;
Wharton can only fwear by fits,
And ftrutting Hal is off the hooks;
Old Godolophin full of spleen

Made falfe moves, and loft his queen;
Harry look'd fierce, and fhook his ragged mane:
But a Prince of high renown

Swore he 'd rather lofe a crown,
Than the Queen fould enjoy her own again.
Our merchant-fhips may cut the Line,

And not be inapt by privateers;
And commoners who love good wine,
Will drink it now as well as peers:
Landed-men fhall have their rent,
Yet our stocks rise cent. per cent.
The Dutch from hence thall no more millions
drain:

We'll bring on us no more debts,

Nor with bankrupts fill Gazettes;

And the Queen fhall enjoy her own again.

The towns we took ne'er did us good:

We spent our money and our blood,

What fignified the French to beat?

To make the Dutchmen proud and great:
But the Lord of Oxford fwears,
Dunkirk never fhall be theirs.

The Dutch-hearted Whigs may rail and com-
plain;

But true Englishmen may fill

A good health to General Hill;
For the Queen now enjoys her own again.

HORACE, BOOK I. EP. VII.
ADDRESSED TO THE EARL OF OXFORD. 1713-

HARLEY, the nation's great fupport,
(His mind with public cares poffefs'd,
Returning home one day from court,
All Europe's business in his breaft)

Obferv'd a perfon near Whitehall
Cheapening old authors on a ftall.
The priest was pretty well in case,
And thow'd fome humour in his face;
Look'd with an eafy, careless mien,
A perfect stranger to the spleen;
Offize that might a pulpit fill,
But more inclining to fit fill.
My Lord (who, if a man may fay 't,
Loves mifchief better than his meat)
Was now difpos'd to crack a jeft,
And bid friend Lewis go in queft,
(This Lewis is a cunning fhaver,
And very much in Harley's favour)
In quest who might this parfon be,
What was his name, of what degree;
If poffible, to learn his ftory,
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 special note

For fhunning those 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, faid what he thought;
Not rich, but ow'd no man a groat:
In ftate opinions à la mode,

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

His works were hawk'd in every street,
But feldom rofe above a sheet;
Of late indeed the paper-tamp
Did very much his genius cramp:
And fince he could not fpend his fire,
He now 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;
So never offer'd once to stir;

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 pull'd the ftring, and stopt his coach,
Beckoning the Doctor to approach.
Swift, who could neither fly nor hide,
Came íneaking to the chariot fide,
And offer'd many a lame excufe:
He never meant the leaft abuse---
My Lord-..the honour you defign'd...
Extremely proud---but I had din’d---

Erafmus Lewis, Efq, the treasurer's fecre

"I'm fure I never should neglect---
"No man alive has more refpect---"
"Well, I fhall think of that no more,
"It 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 fhort, the gudgeon took the bait.
My Lord would carry on the jest,
And down to Wind for takes his guest.
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 stall,
And you the tyrant o'er them all:
You need but cross the Irifb 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 suffers numberless fatigues.

Suppofe him now a Dean complete,
Demurely lolling in his feat;
The filver verge, with decent pride,
Stuck underneath his cushion-fide:
Suppofe him gone through all vexations,
Patents, instalments, abjurations,
Firit-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 spent,
His tenants wrong him in his rent;
The farmers, fpitefully 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 horse, 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 so lean? "Why, fure you won't appear in town "In that old wig and ruity 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 purchafe in your eye? Or is your money out at ufe ?"

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"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 contest;

"Then, fince you have now done your worst, "Pray leave me where you found me first."

HORACE, BOOK II. SAT. VI.

I've often wifh'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;

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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," Vouchfafe, oh gracious Maker! "To grant me this and t'other acre; "Or, if it be thy will and pleafure, "Direct my plough to find a treafure !" But only what my ftation fits And to be kept in my right wits, Preferve, Almighty Providence!

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Just what you gave me, competence : And let me in these 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 fhort, I'm perfectly content, Let me but live on this fide Trent; Nor crofs the Channel twice a year, To spend fix months with statesmen here, 1 muft by all means come to towa, '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 coft 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.

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"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 juttle here among the crowd!" Another, in a furly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit,

So eager to exprefs 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 fhould know.
I get a whisper, and withdraw;
When twenty fools I never faw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Defiring I would ftand 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 chofe 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,

wind?"

"How's the

"Whose chariot's that we left behind?"
Or gravely try to read the lines
Writ underneath the country figns;

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 pafies inter nos
Might be 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?

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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 ftrange report

Of fome exprefs arriv'd at court:
I'm ftopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechis'd in every street.

66

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.

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Ah, Doctor, how you love to jest! "'Tis now no fecret"--I proteft '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 stand amaz'd, and think me grown The clofeft mortal ever known.

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A crazy prelatet, and a royal prude‡;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On every genius that attempts to rife;
And, paufing o'er a pipe with doubtful nod,
Give hints that poets ne'er believe in God:
So clowns on fcholars 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;
Defpis'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 or 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 fubmit,
He turns to politics his dangerous wit.

And now, the public intereft to fupport,
By Harley Swift invited comes to court;
In favour grows with minifters of state;
Admitted private, when fuperiors wait:
And Harley, not afham'd his choice to own,
Takes him to Windfor in his coach alone.
At Windfor Swift no sooner 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 paffing by.

Now Finch alarms the Lords: he hears for certain

This dangerous prieft is got behind the curtain.
Finch, fam'd for tedious elocution, proves
That Swift oils many a fpring which Harley

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46

cover

"A certain doctor is obferv'd of late
"To haunt a certain minifter of state;
"From whence with half an eye we may dif
[over."
"The peace is made, and Perkin must come
York is from Lambeth fent, to show 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 Somerfett 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 shines;
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, justice, 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, lads, can you this bundle break?
Then bids the youngest of the fix
Take up a well bound heap of sticks.
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 clofe then, boys, and never quarrel :
Here ends the fable and the moral.

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

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