My Life's amusements have been just the same,
Before, and after Standing Armies came.

c

My lands are fold, my father's house is gone;
I'll hire another's; is not that my own,

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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 beft, Welcome the coming, fpeed the going guest.) "Pray heaven it laft! (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 ufe 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 toe Peter Walter; Or, in a mortgage, prove a Lawyer's share;

Or, in a jointure, vanish from the heir;

Or in pure fequity (the cafe not clear)
The Chancery takes your rents for twenty year:
At beft, it falls to fome s ungracious fon,

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165

170

Who cries, "My father's damn'd, and all's my own."

Shades,

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 d nequities aut e vafri infcitia 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,

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i Let lands and houses have what lords they will,

Let Us be fix'd, and our own masters still.

180

Nunc mihi, nunc alii. quocirca vivite fortes,
Fortiaque adverfis opponite pectora rebus.

BOOK I.

EPISTLE I.

TO LORD BOLINGBROKE.

ST

T. JOHN, whofe love indulg'd my labours past,
Matures my present, and shall bound my last!
Why b will
break the Sabbath of my days?
you
Now fick alike of Envy and of Praise.
Public too long, ah let me hide my Age!
See modeft Cibber now has left the Stage:
Our Generals now, d retir'd to their Estates,
Hang their Old Trophies o'er the Garden gates,
In Life's cool Evening fatiate of Applause,

Nore fond of bleeding, ev'n in BRUNSWICK'S cause. f A voice there is, that whispers in my ear,

('Tis Reason's voice, which fometimes one can hear) "Friend Pope! be prudent, let your s Mufe take "breath,

"And never gallop Pegafus to death;

EPISTOLA I.

PRIMA dite mihi, fumma dicende camena,

<: Let

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 postem fixis, latet abditus agro; Ne populum e extrema toties exoret arena.

f Eft mihi purgatam crebro qui personet aurem ; Solve & fenefcentem mature fanus equum, ne

15

"Left ftiff, 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 juftly 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.

1

But ask not, to what 1 Doctors I apply?

Sworn to no Mafter, of no Sect am I :

As drives the m ftorm, at any door I knock:

And house with Montagne now, or now with Locke, Sometimes a Patriot, active in debate,

n

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;

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30.

Back

Peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat.

Nunc itaque et h verfus, et caetera ludicra pono:
Quid i verum atque decens, curo et rógo, et omnis in

hoc fum:

k Condo, et compono, quae mox depromere poffim.
Aç ne forte roges, 1 quo me duce, quo Lare tuter:
Nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri,
m Quo me cunque rapit tempeftas, deferor hofpes.
Nunc agilis fio, et merfor n civilibus undis,
Virtutis verae cuftos, o rigidufque fatelles ;
VOL. II.

Back to my p native Moderation flide,

And win my way by yielding to the tide.

9 Long, as to him who works for debt, the day, 35 Long as the Night to her whofe Love's away,

my

foul;

Long as the Year's dull circle feems to run,
When the brisk Minor pants for twenty-one;
So flow th' unprofitable moments roll,
That lock up all the Functions of
That keep me from myself; and still delay
Life's inftant business to a future day :
Thats task, which as we follow, or despise,
The eldest is a fool, the youngest wise :

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Which done, the pooreft can no wants endure;

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And which not done, the richest must be poor. t Late as it is, I put myself to school,

And feel fome u comfort, not to be a fool.

w Weak though I am of limb, and short of fight, Far from a Lynx, and not a Giant quite

Nunc in Ariftippi P furtim praecepta relabor
Et mihi res, non me rebus, fubjungere conor.

4. Ut nox longa, quibus mentitur amica; diesque
Lenta videtur opus debentibus: ut piger annus
Pupillis, quos dura premit cuftodia matrum :
Sic mihi tarda fluunt ingrataque tempora, quae fpem
Confiliumque morantur agendi gnaviter id, quod
Aeque pauperibus prodeft, locupletibus aeque,
Aeque neglectum pueris fenibufque nocebit.

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I'll

* Reftat, ut his ego me ipfe regam" folerque elementis: w Non poffis oculo quantum contendere Lynceus ;