THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON.
PARSON, these things in thy possessing
Are better than the bishop's blessing:
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
That carries double when there's need;
October store, and best Virginia,
Tithe pig, and mortuary guinea;
Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,
For which thy patron's weekly thank'd;
A large Concordance, bound long since;
Sermons to Charles the First, when prince;
A chronicle of ancient standing;
A Chrysostom, to smooth thy band in;
The Polyglott-three parts,-my text:
Howbeit-likewise-now to my next-
Lo here the Septuagint,—and Paul,
To sum the whole, the close of all.
He that has these, may pass his life,
Drink with the 'squire, and kiss his wife;*
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;
And fast on Fridays-if he will;
Toast Church and Queen, explain the news,
Talk with churchwardens about pews;
Pray heartily for some new gift,
And shake his head at Doctor SWIFT.
* I. E., his (the parson's) own wife, and not the squire's; at least we must presume so, though the text is ambiguous.
TO A LADY, WHO FATHERED HER LAMPOONS
UPON HER ACQUAINTANCE.
[The friendship between Pope and Lady Mary Wortley Montague, having degenerated into rivalry, the bard, upon the present and several other occasions, expressed his indignation in a manner which admitted of no retort, by addressing unmanly ribaldry to a female of rank and genius.]
IN Yorkshire dwelt a sober yeoman,
Whose wife, a clean, pains-taking woman,
Fed num'rous poultry in her pens,
And saw her cocks well serve her hens.
A hen she had whose tuneful clocks
Drew after her a train of cocks;
With eyes so piercing, yet so pleasant,
You would have sworn this hen a pheasant.
All the plum'd beau monde round her gathers;
Lord! what a brustling up of feathers!
Morning from noon there was no knowing,
There was such flutt'ring, chuckling, crowing;
Each forward bird must thrust his head in,
And not a cock but would be treading.
Yet tender was this hen so fair,
And hatch'd more chicks than she could rear
Our prudent dame bethought her then
Of some dry-nurse to save her hen:
She made a capon drunk; in fine
He eats the sops, she sipp'd the wine;
His rump well pluck'd with nettles stings,
And claps the brood beneath his wings.
The feather'd dupe awakes content,
O'erjoy'd to see what God had sent ;
Think's he's the hen, clocks, keeps a pother,
A foolish foster-father-mother.
Such, Lady Mary, are your tricks ;
But since you hatch pray own your chicks.
THE ELEPHANT; OR, THE PARLIAMENT
WRITTEN MANY YEARS SINCE.
TAKEN FROM COKE'S INSTITUTES.
ERE bribes convince you whom to choose,
The precepts of Lord Coke peruse :
Observe an Elephant, says he,
And let like him your member be:
First, take a man that's free from gall;
For elephants have none at all:
In flocks or parties he must keep ;
For elephants live just like sheep:
Stubborn in honour he must be ;
For elephants ne'er bend the knee:
Last, let his memory be sound,
In which your elephant's profound;
That old examples from the wise
May prompt him in his Noes and Ies.
Thus the Lord Coke hath gravely writ,
In all the form of lawyers wit;
And then with Latin, and all that,
Shows the comparison is pat.
Yet in some points my lord is wrong :
One's teeth are sold and t'other's tongue :
Now men of parliament, God knows,
Are more like elephants of shows,
Whose docile memory and sense
Are turn'd to trick, to gather pence.
To get their master half-a-crown,
They spread their flag, or lay it down:
Those who bore bulwarks on their backs,
And guarded nations from attacks,
Now practise every pliant gesture,
Opening their trunk for every tester.
Siam, for elephants so fam'd,
Is not with England to be nam'd:
Their elephants by men are sold;
Ours sell themselves, and take the gold.
TO BE PREFIXED BEFORE BERNARD LINTOT'S
[Pope informs us in one of his letters, that this jeu d'esprit was suggested by some lines of his friend Gay, addressed to this eminent bibliopolist. With respect to Lintot's Miscellany, the poet informs Mr Pitt, the translator of Virgil, that he had no concern in reviewing or recommending it; and in the same letter he complains of the slovenly manner in which Lintot reprinted his poetry.]
SOME Colinæus † praise, some Bleau, †
Others account them but so so;
Some Plantin to the rest prefer,
And some esteem old Elzevir; †
Others with Aldust would besot us;
I, for my part, admire Lintottus.-
His character's beyond compare,
Like his own person, large and fair.
They print their names in letters small,
But LINTOT stands in capital:
Author and he with equal grace
Appear, and stare you in the face,
The Oxford and Cambridge Miscellany.-H.
+ Printers, famous for having published fine editions of the Bible, and of the Greek and Roman classics.-H.
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