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Not so: a buck was then a week's repast,
Unworthy he, the voice of Fame to hear,
" Right, cries his lordship, for a rogue in need 6 To have a taste is insolence indeed : " In me’tis noble, suits my birth and state, - My wealth unwieldly, and my heap too great." Then, like the sun, let bounty spread her ray, 115 And shine that superfluity away. O impudence of wealth! with all thy store, How dar'ft thou let one worthy man be poor? Shall half the new-built churches round thee fall ? Make keys, build bridges, or repair Whitehall : 120 Or to thy country let that heap be lent, As M**o's was, but not at five per cent.
Who thinks that fortune cannot change her mind,
Thus BETHEL spoke, who always speaks his thought, And always thinks the very thing he ought:
His equal mind I copy what I can,
of turn away.
140 'Tis true, no turbots dignify my boards, But gudgeons, founders, what my Thames affords : To Hounslow-heath I point and Bansted-down, Thence comes your mutton, and these chicks my own : From yon old walnut-tree a show'r shall fall; 145 And grapes, long ling’ring on my only wall, And figs from standard and espalier join; The dev’l 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. 159
Fortune not much of humbling me can boast : Tho' doubly tax’d, how little have I lost! My life's amusements have been just the same, Before, and after standing armies came. My lands are sold, my father's house is gone; 155 I'll hire another's; is not that my own, And yours, my friends ? thro' whose free-op'ning gate None comes too early, none departs too late; (For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best, Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.) 160 “ Pray heav'n it last! (cries Swift!) as you go on; “ I wish to God this house 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 share;
olie Villiers duke of Buckingham.
$ The turn of his imitation, in the concluding part, obliged him to diversify the sentiment. They are equally noble: but Horace's is expressed with the greater force.
P I S T L E . I.
Publinick alike of enthe Sabbath of pound my laft:
CT. John, whose love indulg'd my labours past,
A voice there is, that whispers in my ear, ('Tis Reason's voice, which sometimes one can hear) a Friend Pope ! be prudent, let your Muse take breath, " And never gallop Pegasus to death; “ Left stiff, and stately, void of fire or force, 15 “ You limp, like Blackmore * on a lord-mayor's horse.”
* The fame of this heavy poet, however problematical elsewhere, was universally recçived in the city of London. His versification is here exactly described : Itiff, and not strong; stately and yet dụll, like the sober and Now-paced animal generally employed to mount the lord-mayor : and there. fore here humorously opposed to Pegasus.
Farewell then verse and love, and ev'ry toy. The rhymes and rattles of the man or boy; What right, what true, what fit we justly call, Let this be all my care-for this is all :
To lay this harvest up, and hoard with hafte, What ev'ry day will want, and most, the last,
But ask not, to what doctors I apply? Sworn to no master, of no sect am I: As drives the storm, at any door I knock :
Long, as to him who works for debt, the day,
Late as it is, I put myself to school,