Can I retrench? Yes, mighty well,
Shrink back to my Paternal Cell,
A little Houfe, with Trees a-row,
And, like its Mafter, very low.
There dy'd my Father, no man's Debtor,
And there I'll die, nor worfe nor better.
To fet this matter full before ye,
Our old Friend Swift will tell his Story.
"Harley, the Nation's great fupport,"-
But you may read it, I ftop fhort.
Parvum parva decent. mihi jam non regia Roma, Sed vacuum Tibut placet, aut imbelle Tarentum. Strenuus et fortis, caufifque Philippus agendis Clarus, &c.
The First Part imitated in the Year 1714, by Dr. SWIFT; the latter Part added afterwards.
'VE often wifh'd that I had clear
For life, fix hundred pounds a year,
A handfome Houfe to lodge a Friend,
A River at my garden's end,
A Terras-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 encrease 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;
Hoc erat in votis: modus agri non ita magnus,
Hortus ubi, et tecto vicinus jugis aquae fons,
Et paulum filvae fuper his foret. auctius, atque
Di melius fecere. bene eft. nil amplius oro,
Maia nate, nifi ut propria haec mihi munera faxis.
Si neque majorem feci ratione mala rein,
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 Pleasure,
"Direct my Plow to find a Treafure:" 'But only what my Station fits,
And to be kept in my right wits,
Preferve, Almighty Providence !
'Jeft 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 fhort, I'm perfectly content,
Let me but live on this fide Trent;
Nor crofs the Channel twice a year,
To fpend fix Months with Statefinen here.
Nec fum facturus vitio culpave minorem:
Si veneror ftultus nihil horum, O fi angulus ille
Proximus accedat, qui nunc denormat agellum!
Ofi urnam argenti fors quæ mihi monftret! ut illi,
Thefauro invento qui mercenarius agrum
Illum ipfum mercatus aravit, dives amico
Hercule, fi, quod adeft, gratum juvat! hae prece te oro,
Pingue pecus domino facias, et caetera praeter
Ingenium; utque foles, cuftos mihi maxinus adfis.
Ergo ubi me in montes et in arcem ex Urbe removi,
Quid prius illuftrem Satiris Mufaque pedestri?
Nec mala me ambitio perdit, nec plumbeus Aufter,
Autumnufque gravis, Libitinae quaeltus acerbae.
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 Seas, Great Minifters ne'er think of these; 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.
Not thinking it is Levee-day;
"Let my Lord know you're come to town." I hurry me in hafte away,
"Good Mr Dean, go change your gown,
"I thought the Dean had been too proud,
"To juftle here among a croud."
Matutine pater, feu Jane libentius audis,
Unde homines operum primos vitaeque labores
Inftituunt, (fic Dîs placitum) tu carminis efto
Principium Romae fponforem me rapis: Eia,
Ne prior officio quifquam refpondeat, urgue:
Sive Aquilo radit terras, feu bruma nivalem
Interiore diem gyro trahit, ire neceffe eft.
Poftmodo, quod mi obfit, clare certumque locuto,
Luftandum in turba, et facienda injuria tardis.
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 fhove,
"But rudely press before a Duke.”
I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke.
And take it kindly meant to fhow
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 int'reft 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 Cause is
The Duke expects my Lord and you,
About fome great affair at Two-
Quid tibi vis, infane? et quas res agis? improbus urguet
Iratis precibus tu pulfes omne quod obftat,
Ad Maecenatem memori fi mente recurras.
Hoc juvat, et melli eft; ne mentiar. at fimul atras
Ventum eft Efquilias; aliena negotia centum
Per caput, et circa faliunt latus. Ante fecundam
Rofcius orabat fibi adeffes ad Puteal cras.
De re communi scribae magna atque nova te
Orabant hodie meminiffes, Quinte, reverti.
|