The waiters ftand in ranks; the yeomen cry,
Make room, as if a duke were paffing by.
Now Finch alarms the lords: he hears for certain
This dangerous priest is got behind the curtain.
Finch, fam'd for tedious elocution, proves
That Swift oils many a spring which Harley moves.
Walpole and Aislabie †, to clear the doubt,
Inform the Commons, that the fecret 's out:
"A certain doctor is observ'd of late
"To haunt a certain minifter of state:
"From whence with half an eye we may difcover
"The peace is made, and Perkin muft come over."
York is from Lambeth fent, to fhew the Queen
A dangerous treatise writ against the spleen;
Which, by the ftyle, the matter, and the drift,
'Tis thought could be the work of none but Swift.
Poor York! the harmless tool of others hate }
He fues for pardon [], and repents too late.
Now, angry Somerset § her vengeance vows
On Swift's reproaches for her *****
From her red locks her mouth with venom fills;
And thence into the royal ear inftills.
The Queen incens'd, his fervices forgot,
Leaves him a victim to the vengeful Scot ¶.
* The earl of Nottingham. See above, p. 76.
They both spoke against him in the H. of C.
Tale of a Tub.
He fent a meffage, to afk Swift's pardon.
See the Windsor Prophecy, p. 78.
The duke of Argyll.
Now through the realm a proclamation fpread,
To fix a price on his devoted head *.
While innocent, he fcorns ignoble flight;
His watchful friends preferve him by a fleight.
By Harley's favour once again he fhines;
Is now carefs'd by candidate divines,
Who change opinions with the changing fcene:
Lord! how were they mistaken in the Dean!
Now Delawarr† again familiar grows ;
And in Swift's ear thrusts half his powder'd nose.
The Scottish nation, whom he durft offend,
Again apply that Swift would be their friend ‡.
By faction tir'd, with grief he waits a while,
His great contending friends to reconcile,
Performs what friendship, juftice, truth, require:
What could he more, but decently retire?
Written when the Ministry were at Variance, 1713.
BSERVE the dying father speak:
Try, lads, can you this bundle break?
Then bids the youngest of the fix
Take up a well-bound heap of sticks.
*For writing "The Public Spirit of the Whigs." + Then lord treasurer of the household, who cautiously avoided Swift whilft the proclamation was impending.
He was vifited by the Scotch lords more than ever.
They thought it was an old man's maggot;
And ftrove by turns to break the faggot :
In vain; the complicated wands
Were much too ftrong for all their hands.
See, faid the fire, how foon 'tis done :
Then took and broke them one by one.
So ftrong you'll be, in friendship ty'd ;
So quickly broke, if you divide.
Keep clofe then, boys, and never quarrel:
Here ends the fable and the moral.
This Tale may be apply'd in few words
To treasurers, comptrollers, ftewards;
And others who in folemn fort
Appear with flender wands at court;
Not firmly join'd to keep their ground,
But lafhing one another round:
While wife men think they ought to fight
With quarter-Staffs, instead of white;
Or conftable with staff of peace
Should come and make the clattering ceafe;
Which now disturbs the Queen and court,
And gives the Whigs and rabble sport.
In hiftory we never found
The Confuls' Fafces were unbound:
Thofe Romans were too wife to think on 't,
Except to lafh fome grand delinquent.
How would they blush to hear it faid,
The Prætor broke the Conful's head!
Or Conful, in his purple gown,
Came up, and knock'd the Prætor down!
Come, Courtiers: every man his stick!
Lord Treasurer, for once be quick :
And, that they may the closer cling,
Take your blue ribbon for a string.
Come, trimming Harcourt *, bring your mace-;
And fqueeze it in, or quit your place :
Dispatch, or else that rascal Northey +
Will undertake to do it for thee:
And, be assur'd, the Court will find him
Prepar'd to leap o'er flicks, or bind them.
To make the bundle strong and safe,
Great Ormond, lend thy General's staff:
And, if the Crofier could be cramm'd in,
A fig for Lechmere, King, and Hambden I
You'll then defy the strongest Whig
With both his hands to bend a twig;
Though with united strength they all pull,
From Somers down to Craggs and Walpole.
CATULLUS DE LESBIA.
LESBIA for ever on me rails,
To talk of me fhe never fails.
Now, hang me but for all her art,
I find, that I have gain'd her heart.
My proof is thus: I plainly fee,
The cafe is juft the fame with me;
I curfe her every hour fincerely,
Yet, hang me but I love her dearly.
Sir Edward Northey, Attorney General.
EPIGRA M. From the FRENCH *.
HO can believe with common sense,
A bacon-flice gives God offence;
Or, how a herring hath a charm
Almighty vengeance to difarm?
Wrapt up in Majesty divine,
Does he regard on what we dine?
On a CURATE'S Complaint of HARD DUTY.
MARCH'D three miles through fcorching fand,
With zeal in heart, and notes in hand :
I rode four more to Great St. Mary,
Ufing four legs, when two were weary:
To three fair virgins I did tie men,
In the close bands of pleafing Hymen:
I dipp'd two babes in holy water,
And purify'd their mother after.
Within an hour and eke a half,
I preach'd three congregations deaf;
Where thundering out, with lungs long-winded,
I chopp'd fo faft, that few there minded.
My emblem, the laborious fun,
Saw all these mighty labours done
Before one race of his was run.
All this perform'd by Robert Hewit :
What mortal elfe could e'er go through it!
*Written extempore by a gentleman who was reproved by fome of his companions for eating eggs and bacon on a fast-day.
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