Provided, to improve the ground, He will but add two hundred pound; And, from his endless hoarded store, To build a houfe, five hundred more. Sir Arthur too fhall have his will, And call the manfion Drapier's Hill: That, when a nation, long enflav'd, Forgets by whom it once was fav'd; When none the Drapier's praise fhall fing; His figns aloft no longer fwing;
His medals and his prints forgotten; And all his handkerchiefs are rotten; His famous Letters made wafte-paper; This hill may keep the name of Drapier; In spight of envy, flourish ftill, And Drapier's vie with Cooper's hill.
THE DEAN'S REASONS
FOR NOT BUILDING AT DRAPIER'S HILL.
I WILL not build on yonder mount:
And, fhould you call me to account,
Confulting with myself, I find,
It was no levity of mind.
Whate'er I promis'd or intended,
No fault of mine, the fcheme is ended:
*Medals were caft, many figns hung up, and handkerchiefs made with devices, in honour of the Dean, under the name of M. B. Drapier. F.
Nor can you tax me as unsteady, I have a hundred caufes ready: All rifen fince that flattering time, When Drapier's-hill appear'd in rhyme. : I am, as now too late I find, The greatest cully of mankind : The lowest boy in Martin's school May turn and wind me like a fool. How could I form fo wild a vision, To feek, in deferts, Fields Elyfian? To live in fear, fufpicion, variance, With thieves, fanatics, and barbarians? But here my Lady will object; Your Deanship ought to recollect, That, near the Knight of Gosford plac'd, Whom you allow a man of taste, Your intervals of time to spend With fo converfable a friend, It would not fignify a pin Whatever climate you were in.
'Tis true, but what advantage comes To me from all a ufurer's plumbs; Though I fhould fee him twice a day, And am his neighbour crofs the way; If all my rhetoric must fail
To ftrike him for a pot of ale?
Thus, when the learned and the wife Conceal their talents from our eyes, And from deferving friends with-hold Their gifts, as Mifers do their gold;
Their knowledge to themselves confin'd
Is the fame avarice of mind;
Nor makes their conversation better, Than if they never knew a letter. Such is the fate of Gosford's Knight, Who keeps his wifdom out of fight; Whose uncommunicative heart Will fearce one precious word impart : Still rapt in fpeculations deep, His outward fenfes faft afleep; Who, while I talk, a fong will hum, Or, with his fingers, beat the drum, Beyond the skies tranfports his mind, And leaves a lifeless corpse behind.
But, as for me, who ne'er could clamber high, To understand Malebranche or Cambray ;
Who fend my mind (as I believe) lefs Than others do, on errands fleeveless; Can listen to a tale humdrum,
And with attention read Tom Thumb; My spirits with my body progging, Both hand in hand together jogging; Sunk over head and ears in matter, Nor can of metaphyfics fmatter; Am more diverted with a quibble Than dream of worlds intelligible; And think all notions too abstracted Are like the ravings of a crackt head; What intercourfe of minds can be Betwixt the Knight fublime and me,
If when I talk, as talk I muft,
t is but prating to a bust? Where friendship is by Fate defign'd, It forms an union in the mind: But here I differ from the Knight In every point, like black and white : For none can fay that ever yet We both in one opinion met: Not in philofophy, or ale; In ftate-affairs, or planting cale; In rhetoric, or picking straws; In roafting larks, or making laws; In public fchemes, or catching flies; In parliaments, or pudding-pies.
The neighbours wonder why the Knight Should in a country life delight, Who not one pleasure entertains To chear the folitary scenes: His guests are few, his vifits rare; Nor uses time, nor time will fpare;
Nor rides, nor walks, nor hunts, nor fowls, Nor plays at cards, or dice, or bowls; But, feated in an easy chair,
Defpifes exercife and air.
His rural walks he ne'er adorns ; Here poor Pomona fits on thorns : And there neglected Flora fettles Her bum upon a bed of nettles. Thofe thanklefs and officious cares I us'd to take in friends affairs,"
From which I never could refrain, And have been often chid in vain : From these I am recover'd quite, At least in what regards the Knight. Preferve his health, his ftore increase; May nothing interrupt his peace! But now let all his tenants round First milk his cows, and after, pound: Let every cottager confpire
To cut his hedges down for fire: The naughty boys about the village His crabs and floes may freely pillage : He still may keep a pack of knaves To spoil his work, and work by halves : His meadows may be dug by swine,
It fhall be no concern of mine.
For why fhould I continue ftill
To serve a friend against his will?
A PANEGYRICK ON THE DEAN, In the PERSON of a LADY in the NORTH *. 1730.
RESOLVD my gratitude to show,
Thrice reverend Dean, for all I owe,
Too long I have my thanks delay'd; Your favours left too long unpaid; But now, in all our fex's name, My artless Muse shall fing your fame.
* The lady of Sir Arthur Achefon.
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