Content with little I can piddle here
On x brocoli and mutton, round the year;
But y ancient friends (though poor, or out of play)
That touch my bell, I cannot turn away.
'Tis true, no z Turbots dignify my boards,
But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames affords :
To Hounslow-heath I point, and Banfted-down,
Thence comes your mutton, and these chicks my own:
a From yon old walnut-tree a shower shall fall:
And grapes, long-lingering on my only wall,
And figs from standard and espalier join ;
The devil is in you if you cannot dine :
Then chearful healths (your Mistress shall have place)
And, what's more rare, a Poet shall say Grace.
Fortune not much of humbling me can boaft:
Though double tax'd, how little have I loft!
Quidquam, praeter x olus fumofae cum pede pernae.
Ac mihi feu y longum poft tempus venerat hofpes,
Sive operum vacuo gratus conviva per imbrem
Vicinus; bene erat, non pifcibus urbe petitis,
Sed pullo atque hædo: tum z penfilis uva fecundas
Et nux ornabat menfas, cum duplice ficu.
Poft hoc ludus erat a cuppa potare magistra:
Ac venerata Ceres, ita culmo furgeret alto,
Explicuit vino contractae feria frontis.
Saeviat atque novos moveat Fortuna tumultus !
Quantum hinc imminuet? quanto aut ego parcius, aut
My Life's amusements have been just the same,
Before, and after Standing Armies came.
My lands are fold, my father's house is gone;
I'll hire another's; is not that my own,
And yours, my friends? thro' whose free opening gate
None comes too early, none departs too late;
(For I, who hold fage Homer's rule the best,
Welcome the coming, fpeed the going gueft.)
"Pray heaven it laft! (cries Swift!) as you go on;
"I wish to God this houfe had been your own:
"Pity! to build, without a fon or wife;
"Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life."
Well, if the use be mine, can it concern one,
Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon?
What's Property? dear Swift! you see it alter
From you to me, from me to Peter Walter
Or, in a mortgage, prove a Lawyer's fhare;
Or, in a jointure, vanish from the heir;
Or in pure f equity (the cafe not clear)
The Chancery takes your rents for twenty year:
At beft, it falls to fome g ungracious fon,
Who cries, "My father's damn'd, and all's my own.”
O pueri, nituiftis, ut huc b novus incola venit?
Nam propriae telluris herum natura neque illum,
Nec me, nec quemquam ftatuit. nos expulit ille;
Illum aut nequities aut e vafri inscitia juris,
Poftremum expellet certe f vivacior heres.
g Nunc ager Umbreni fub nomine, nuper Ofelli Di&tus erat: nulli proprius; fed cedit in ufum
Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford,
Become the portion of a booby Lord;
And Hemfley, once proud Buckingham's delight,
Slides to a Scrivener, or a City Knight,
i Let lands and houses have what lords they will,
Let Us be fix'd, and our own masters still.
Nunc mihi, nunc alii. h quocirca vivite fortes,
Fortiaque adverfis opponite pectora rebus.
TO LORD BOLINGBROKE.
ST. JOHN, whofe love indulg'd my labours paft,
Matures my present, and shall bound my last!
Why b will you break the Sabbath of my days?
Now fick alike of Envy and of Praise.
Public too long, ah let me hide my Age!
See modeft c Cibber now has left the Stage:
Our Generals now, retir'd to their Estates,
Hang their Old Trophies o'er the Garden gates,
In Life's cool Evening fatiate of Applaufe,
Nor fond of bleeding, ev'n in BRUNSWICK's caufe.
f A voice there is, that whispers in my ear,
('Tis Reafon's voice, which fometimes one can hear) "Friend Pope! be prudent, let your s Muse take "breath,
And never gallop Pegafus to death;
EPISTOLA I.
RIMA dicte mihi, fumma dicende camena,
b Spectatum fatis, et donatum jam rude, quaeris, Maecenas, iterum antiquo me includere ludo. Non eadem eft aetas, non mens. c Veianius, armis d Herculis ad poftem fixis, latet abditus agro; Ne populum e extrema toties exoret arena.
f Eft mihi purgatam crebro qui perfonet aurem ; Solves fenefcentem mature fanus equum, ne
“ Lest stiff, and stately, void of fire or force,
"You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's horse."
Farewell then h Verfe, and Love, and every Toy,
The Rhymes and Rattles of the Man or Boy;
What i right, what true, what fit we justly call,
Let this be all my care-for this is All:
To lay this k harvest up, and hoard with haste,
What every day will want, and most, the last.
But ask not, to what Doctors I apply?
Sworn to no Mafter, of no Sect am I:
As drives the m storm, at any door I knock :
And houfe with Montagne now, or now with Locke, Sometimes a " Patriot, active in debate,'
Mix with the World, and battle for the State,
Free as young Lyttelton, her cause pursue,
Still true to Virtue, ° and as warm as true:
Sometimes with Aristippus, or St. Paul,
Indulge my candour, and grow all to all;
Peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat.
Nunc itaque et h verfus, et caetera ludicra pono:
Quid i verum atque decens, curo et rogo, et omnis in
hoc fum:
k Condo, et compono, quae mox depromere poffim.
Ac ne forte roges, 1 quo me duce, quo Lare tuter:
Nullius addictus jurare in verba magiftri,
m Quo me cunque rapit tempeftas, deferor hofpes.
Nunc agilis fio, et merfor n civilibus undis,
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