In fhort, I'm perfectly content,
Let me but live on this fide 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 fervice 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 minifters ne'er think of thefe ;
Or let it coft five hundred pound,
No matter where the money 's found,
It is but fo much more in debt,
"Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown,
And that they ne'er confider'd yet.
"Let my Lord know you 're come to town."
Some wag obferves me thus perplex'd,
And, fmiling, whispers to the next,
"I thought the Dean had been too proud,
"To juftle 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 confider whom you shove,
"But rudely press before a duke."
I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to fhow
What I defire the world should know..
I get a whisper, and withdraw;
When twenty fools I never faw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Defiring I would stand their friend.
This humbly offers me his cafe
That begs my intereft 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 lord and you,
About fome great affair at two —
"Put my lord Bolingbroke in mind,
"To get my warrant quickly fign'd:
“Confider, 'tis my first request."
Be fatisfy'd, I'll do my best:
Then presently he falls to teaze,
"You may for certain, if you please;
"I doubt not, if his lordship knew
"And, Mr. Dean, one word from -"
'Tis (let me fee) three years and more,
(October next it will be four)
Since Harley bid me first attend,
And chofe me for an humble friend;
Would take me in his coach to chat,
And question me of this and that;
As, "What's o'clock?" And, "How's the wind?” "Whofe chariot 's that we left behind?"
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
My lord and me as far as Staines,
As once a week we travel down
To Windfor, and again to town,
Where all that paffes inter nos
Might be proclaim'd at Charing-crofs.
Yet fome I know with envy fwell,
Because they see me us'd fo well :
"How think you of our friend the Dean?
"I wonder what fome people mean!
My lord and he are grown fo great, "Always together, téte à téte;
"What! they admire him for his jokes?
"See but the fortune of fome folks!"
There flies about a strange report
Of fome exprefs arriv'd at court:
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechis'd in every ftrect.
"You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great;
Inform us, will the Emperor treat?
"Or do the prints and papers lie?"
Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.
"Ah, Doctor, how you love to jest!
'Tis now no fecret"
"When are the troops to have their pay?" And, though I folemnly declare
I know no more than my
They stand amaz'd, and think me grown
The clofeft mortal ever known.
Thus in a fea of folly toft,
My choiceft hours of life are loft ;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I fee my country feat!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or perufe fome ancient book;
And there in fweet oblivion drown
Thofe cares that haunt the court and town *.
THE AUTHOR UPON HIMSELF. 1713.
[A few of the firft lines are wanting.]
A crazy prelate t, and a royal prude ;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On every genius that attempts to rife;
And, paufing o'er a pipe with doubtful nod,
Give hints, that poets ne'er believe in God;
* See the rest of this fatire among Mr. Pope's poems. + Dr. Sharp, archbishop of York.
So clowns on scholars as on wizards look,
And take a folio for a conjuring book.
Swift had the fin of wit, no venial crime;
Nay, 'tis affirm'd, he fometimes dealt in rhyme:
Humour and mirth had place in all he writ;
He reconcil'd divinity and wit;
He mov'd, and bow'd, and talk'd, with too much grace;
Nor fhew'd the parson in his gait or face;
Defpis'd luxurious wines and coftly meat;
Yet ftill was at the tables of the great;
Frequented lords; far those that saw the Queen;
At Child's or Truby's never once had been;
Where town and country vicars flock in tribes,
Secur'd by numbers from the laymens' gibes,
And deal in vices of the graver fort,
Tobacco, cenfure, coffee, pride, and port.
But, after fage monitions from his friends,
His talents to employ for nobler ends;
To better judgements willing to fubmit,
He turns to politicks his dangerous wit.
And now, the public intereft to support,
By Harley Swift invited comes to court;
In favour grows with minifters of state;
Admitted private, when fuperiors wait :
And Harley, not asham'd his choice to own,
Takes him to Windfor in his coach alone.
At Windfor Swift no fooner can appear,
But St. John comes and whifpers in his ear:
* Coffee-i.oufes much frequented by the Clergy.
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