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 must have an old or a young Coadjutor:
For why; I would fain have put all in a flame,
Becaufe, for fome reasons, 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 brothers, 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 difappointed my hopes,
And will neither regard my figures nor tropes;
I'll fpeech against peace while Difmal's my name,
And be a true 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 seal ↑ at his fob,
Shall not fee one New-year's-day in that year,
Then let old England make good cheer:
Windfor and Briftow § then shall be
Join'd together in the Low-countree §.
Then fall 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 thall flit.
But, ipight of the Harpy that crawls on all four,
There shall be peace, pardie, and war no more.
But England 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 ff a deep root may get,
If to be they are in Somer fet:

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

He was dean of Windfor, and lord privyfeal.

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

Alluding to the deanery and bishoprick being poffed 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 Cavendi, Earl of Ogle, only fon to Henry Duke of Nerafle, to whom he had been betrothed in her

infancy.

Their Conyngs mark thou; for I have been told,
They affaffine when young, and poifon when old.
Root out these Carrots,,O thou f, whose name
Is backwards and forwards always the fame;
And keep close to thee always that name,
Which backwards and forwards is almoft the
same.

And, Englond, would'st thou be happy ftill,
Bury those Carrots under a Hill §.

EPIGRAM EXTEMPORE,

BY DR. SWIFT .

ON Britain Europe's fafety lies;
Britain is loft if Harley dies:
Harley depends upon your skill;
Think what you fave, or what you kill,

EPIGRAM. 1712.

fquabble,

As Thomas was cudgel'd one day by his wife,
He took to the street, and fled for his life:
Tom's three dearest friends came by in the
{rabble;
And fav'd him at once from the fhrew and the
Then ventur'd to give him some fober advice---
But Tom is a person of honour so nice,
Too wife to take counsel, too proud to take warn-
ing,

[ing: That he fent to all three a challenge next mornThree duels he fought, thrice ventur'd his life; Went home, and was cudgel'd again by his wife.

CORINNA. 1712.

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 faft afleep.

Then Cupid thus: This little maid,

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

The world fhall feel her fcratch and bite. Her talent the difplay'd betimes;

For in twice twelve revolving moons, She feem'd to laugh and squall in rhymes, And all her geñures 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.

She made a fong, how little miss

Was kifs'd and flobber'd by a lad: And how, when master 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. 56
Ir, dearest Difmal, you for once can dine
Upon a fingle dith, and tavern wine,
Toland to you this invitation fends,

To eat the calves-head with your trufty friends.
Sufpend awhile your vain ambitious hopes,
Leave hunting after bribes, forget your tropes.
To-morrow we our myftic feast prepare,
Where thou, our latest profelyte, fhalt share:
When we, by proper figns and fymbols, tell,
How, by brave hands, the royal traitor fell;
The meat fhall reprefent the tyrant's head,
The wine his blood our predeceffors fhed;
Whilft an alluding hymn some artist fings,
We toaft, "Confufion to the race of kings!"
At monarchy we nobly show our fpight,
And talk what fools call treafon all the night.
Who, by difgraces or ill-fortune funk,
Feels not his foul enliven'd when he's drunk?
Wine can clear up Godolophin's cloudy face,
And fill Jack Smith with hopes to keep his place:
By force of wine, ev'n Scarborough is brave,
Hal grows more pert, and Somers not so grave;
Wine can give Portland wit, and Cleveland sense,
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 myfterious club to keep out spies, And Tories (drefs'd like waiters) in disguise. You fhall be coupled as you best 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 business make you stay;
Yet take one word of counsel by the way.
If Guernsey calls, fend word you're gone abroad;
He'll teaze you with King Charles and Bishop
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 DUNK IRK:

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

1712.

To the Tune of " The King sball enjoy his ow “again."

SPIGHT of Dutch friends and English foes,
Poor Britain hall have peace at laft:
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 lose a crown,
Than the Queen should 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 ftocks rife 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:

What fignified the French to beat? We spent our money and our blood,

To make the Dutchmen proud and great: But the Lord of Oxford fwears, Dunkirk never shall be theirs. The Dutch-hearted Whigs may rail and complain;

But true Englishmen may fill

A good health to General Hill;

For the Queen now enjoys her own again.

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

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

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

My Lord (who, if a man may say 't,
Loves mifchief better than his meat)
Was now difpos'd to crack a jett,
And bid friend Lewis * go in quest,
(This Lewis is a cunning shaver,
And very much in Harley's favour)
Ir queft who might this parfon be,
What was his name, of what degree;
If 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 thunning 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, faid what he thought;

Not rich, but ow'd no man a groat:

In itate 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 sent; 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-crois among the rout, Where painted monfters are hung out: He pull'd the string, and ftopt his coach, Beckoning the Doctor to approach. Swift, who could neither fly nor hide, Came (neaking to the chariot fide, And offer'd many a lame excufe: He never meant the least abuse--

My Lord--the honour you design'd-..

Extremely proud---but I had din'd--

• Erafmus Lewis, Efq. the treasurer's fecre

fary.

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 Windfor 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 reside.

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

Suppofe him now a Dean complete,
Demurely lolling in his feat;

The filver verge, with decent pride,
Stuck underneath his cuthion-fide:
Suppofe him gone through all vexations,
Patents, inftalments, abjurations,
First-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 ipent,
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 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 worthip look fo lean?

66

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 stocks are high "You've fome good purchase in your eye è "Or is your money out at ufe?"-

64

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

"Your raillery is misapply'd;

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

HORACE, BOOK II. SAT. VI.

I'VE often with'd that I had clear,
For life, fix hundred pounds a-year,
A handsome houfe 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 afl 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!
Just 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 fcene,

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 ftatefmen 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 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.

"Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, "Let my Lord know you're come to town." I hurry me in haite 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 obferves me thus perplex'd,
And, fmiling, whispers to the next,
"I thought the Dean had been too proud,
"To juftle here among the crowd!"
Another, in a furly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit,
"So cager to exprefs your love,

» Men se'er confider whom you love.

"But rudely prefs before a duke."
I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to fhow
What I defire the world thould 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 first request.'

66

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 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 bid me first attend, And chofe me for an humble friend; Would take me in his coach to chat, And queftion me of this and that;

As,

66

What's o'clock? And, How's the wind?"

"Whofe 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 paffes inter nos
Might be proclaim'd at Charing-crofs.
Yet fome I know with envy iwell,
Because they fee me us'd fo well:
"How think you of our friend the Dean?
"I wonder what fome people mean?

66

66

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 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.

66

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?"

1, though I folemnly declare

now no more than my lord mayor, They stand amaz`d, and think me grown

The clofest mortal ever known.