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'VE often with'd that I had clear,

For life, fix hundred pounds a-year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace-walk, and half a rood
Of land set out to plant a wood.

Well, now I have all this and inore,
I ask not to increase my store ;
• But here a grievance feems to lie,
6. All this is mine but till I die;
"I can't but think ’rwould sound more clever,
"To me and to my heirs for ever.

• If I'ne'er got or lost a groat, • By any trick, or any fault; • And if I pray by reason's rules, • And not like forty other fools: • As thus, “ Vouchfase, oh gracious Maker! “ To grant me this and tother acre : “ Or, if it be thy will and pleasure, Direct my plow to find a treasure !" • But only what my station fits, 6-And to be kept in my right wits, • Preserve, Almighty Providence ! • Just what you gave me, competence : • And let me in these shades compose • Something in verse as true as prose ; • Remov'd from all th' ambitious scene,

Nor puff'd by pride, nor sunk by spleen.'






In short, I 'm perfectly content,
Let me but live on this side Trent;
Nor cross the Channel twice a year,
To spend fix months with statesmen here.

I must by all means come to town,
'Tis for the service of the crown.
“ Lewis, the Dean will be of use,
“ Send for him up, take no excuse.”
The toil, the danger of the seas,
Great ministers ne'er think of these ;
Or let it cost five hundred pound,
No matter where the money 's found,
It is but so much more in debt,
And that they ne'er consider'd yet.

« Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown,
“Let my Lord know you 're come to town.”
I hurry me in haste 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 ?

observes me thus perplex’d,
And, smiling, whispers to the next,
“ I thought the Dean had been too proud,
To justle here among a croud !”
Another, in a furly fit,
Tells me I have more zeal than wit,
“ So eager to express your love,
“ You ne'er consider whom you shove,



Some wag


I own,



“ But rudely press before a duke.”

I 'm pleas’d with this rebuke, And take it kindly meant, to show What I desire the world should know.

I get a whisper, and withdraw; When twenty fools I never saw Come with petitions fairly penn'd, Desiring I would stand their friend.

This humbly offers me his case That begs my interest for a place A hundred other mens' affairs, Like bees, are humming in my ears. “ To-morrow my apppeal comes on; “ Without your help, the cause is gone The duke expects my About some great affair at two “ Put my lord Bolingbroke in mind, To get my warrant quickly sign'd : “ Confider, 'tis my first request.”. Be satisfy'd, I'll do my best: Then presently he falls to teaze, “ You may for certain, if you pleafe; “ I doubt not, if his lordship knew “ And, Mr. Dean, one word from you 'Tis (let me see) three years


more, (October next it will be four) Since Harley bid me first attend, And chose me for an humble friend; Would take me in his coach to chat, And question me of this and that ;

ford and you,





As,“ What's o'clock” And, “How's the wind?" “ Whose chariot 's that we left behind ?”

90 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

95 My lord and me as far as Staines, As once a week. we travel down To Windsor, and again to town, Where all that passes inter nos Might be proclaim'd at Charing-cross..

Yet some I know with envy swell, Because they see me us’d so well : “ How think you of our friend the Dean? “ I wonder what some people mean! “ My lord and he are grown so great, 105 “ Always together, tête à tête ; “ What! they admire him for his jokes ? “ See but the fortune of some folks!”

There flies about a strange report Of some express arriv'd at court : I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet, And catechis'd in every fireet. “ You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great ; “ Inform us, will the Emperor treat? “ Or do the prints and papers lie?"

115 Faith, Sir, you know as much as I. “ Ah, Doctor, how you love to jest ! “ 'Tis now no secret" – I protest


lord mayor,

''Tis one to me - " Then tell us, pray,
." When are the troops to have their pay?"
And, though I solemnly declare
I know no more than

They stand amaz’d, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.
Thus in a sea of folly toft,

My choicest hours of life are loft ;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my country seat!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book ;

And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those cares that haunt the court and town *.


[A few of the first lines are wanting.]

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By an old

--- pursued
A crazy prelate t, and a royal prude I;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On every genius that attempts to rise ;
And, pausing o'er a pipe with doubtful nod,
Give hints, that poets ne'er believe in God;

* See the rest of this satire among Mr. Pope's poems.
+ Dr. Sharp, archbishop of York.
I Q. Anne.


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