Thou ftood'ft (an Indian king in fize and hue) Why did 'Change-Alley waste thy precious hours Who live on fancy, and can feed on air; No wonder they were caught by South-Sea schemes, No wonder, that their fancies wild can frame Though chang'd throughout in substance and in name. Let Vulture Hopkins ftretch his rufty throat, And ftill believe the fleeting vifion true; Yet be diverted by this moral tale. Through fam'd Moorfields extends a spacious feat, Where mortals of exalted wit retreat; 7 } Where, Where, wrapp'd in contemplation and in ftraw, As on a time he pafs'd the vacant hours, The banker cry'd, " Behold my castle-walls, The banker's brain was cool'd, the mift grew clear; The vifionary scene was loft in air. He now the vanish'd prospect understood, And fear'd the fancied bargain was not good: Yet, loath the fum entire fhould be destroy'd, "Give me a penny, and thy contract 's void." The startled bard with eye indignant frown'd. "Shall 1, ye Gods (he cries) my debts compound !” So faying, from his rug the skewer he takes, And on the stick ten equal notches makes; With just resentment flings it on the ground; "There, take my tally of ten thousand pound!" EPISTLE 03 Ev'n in mid ocean often didst thou quail, And oft' lift up thy holy eye and hand, Praying the Virgin dear, and faintly choir, Back to the port to bring thy bark entire. III. Chear up, my friend! thy dangers now are o'er ; IV. Now pafs we Gravefend with a friendly wind, I fee his chimney smoke, and hear him fay, V. Come in, my friends' here fhall ye dine and lie, He waives his hand to bring us back in vain ; For For now I fee, I fee proud London's fpires; VI. Oh, what a concourse swarms on yonder quay ! Who come in crouds to welcome thee from Troy. Hail to the bard, whom long as loft we mourn'd; From fiege, from battle, and from ftorm, return'd! VII. Of goodly dames, and courteous knights, I view The filken petticoat, and broider'd veft; Yea peers, and mighty dukes, with ribbands blue, By no court-badge diftinguish'd from the reft: VII. What lady's that, to whom he gently bends? Who knows not her? ah! thofe are Wortley's eyes: How art thou honour'd, number'd with her friends ! For the diftinguishes the good and wife. *This perfon is mentioned in Pope's Epiftle to Arbuthnot, ver. 23. "Arthur, whofe giddy fon neglects the laws, "Imputes to me, and my damn'd works, the caufe." The See Rochefter approving nods his head *, Carleton and Chandos thy arrival grace; Hanmer, whofe eloquence th' unbiass'd sways; Harley, whofe goodness opens in his face, And shews his heart the feat where virtue stays. Ned Blount advances next, with bufy pace, In hafte, but fauntering, hearty in his ways: I fee the friendly Carylls come by dozens, Their wives, their uncles, daughters, fons, and cousins. XVI. Arbuthnot there I fee, in phyfick's art, As Galen learn'd, or famed Hippocrate ; XVII. Thee Jervas hails, robust and debonair, Now have [we] conquer'd Homer, friends, he cries: Darteneuf, grave joker, joyous Ford is there ‡, And wondering Maine, fo fat with laughing eyes, *So in the Epiftle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Ev'n mitred Rochester would nod the head." S. + This is no more than a compliment to the vanity of Sir Godfrey, which Pope and other wits were always putting to the ftrongeft trials. S. + Charles Ford, efq; writer of the Gazette. S. 5 (Gay, |