Last Friday night, as neighbours use, This couple met to talk of news; For, by old proverbs it appears,
That walls have tongues, and hedges ears.
Quoth Marble Hill, right well I ween, Your mistress now is grown a queen: You'll find it soon by woful proof; She'll come no more beneath your roof.
The kingly prophet well evinces, That we should put no trust in princes: My royal master promis'd me
To raise me to a high degree;
But now he's grown a king, God wot,
I fear I shall be soon forgot.
You see, when folks have got their ends,
How quickly they neglect their friends;
Yet I may say, 'twixt me and you,
Pray God, they now may find as true!
My house was built but for a show,
My lady's empty pockets know;
And now she will not have a shilling,
To raise the stairs, or build the ceiling;
For all the courtly madams round
Now pay four shillings in the pound;
"Tis come to what I always thought;
My dame is hardly worth a groat.
Had
you and I been courtiers born, We should not thus have lain forlorn :
For those we dext'rous courtiers call,
upon their masters' fall.
But we, unlucky and unwise,
Must fall because our masters rise.
My master, scarce a fortnight since,
Was grown as wealthy as a prince;
But now it will be no such thing,
For he'll be poor as any king:
And by his crown will nothing get,
But like a king to run in debt.
No more the Dean, that grave divine,
Shall keep the key of my no-wine;
My ice house rob, as heretofore,
And steal my artichokes no more;
Poor Patty Blount no more be seen
Bedraggled in my walks so green:
Plump Johnny Gay will now elope :
And here no more will dangle Pope.
Here wont the Dean, when he's to seek,
To spunge a breakfast once a week;
To cry the bread was stale, and mutter
Complaints against the royal butter.
'But now I fear it will be said,
No butter sticks upon his bread.
We soon shall find him full of spleen,
For want of tattling to the queen ;
Stunning her royal ears with talking;
His reverence and her highness walking:
While lady Charlotte, like a stroller,
Sits mounted on the garden-roller.
A goodly sight to see her ride
With ancient Mirmont at her side,
In velvet cap his head lies warm;
His hat for show beneath his arm.
Some South Sea broker from the city
Will purchase me, the more's the pity;
Lay all my fine plantations waste,
To fit them to his vulgar taste;
Chang'd for the worse in every part,
My master Pope will break his heart.
In my own Thames may I be drowned,
If e'er I stoop beneath a crown'd head:
Except her majesty prevails
To place me with the Prince of Wales;
And then I shall be free from fears,
For he'll be prince these fifty years.
I then will turn a courtier too,
And serve the times, as others do.
Plain loyalty, not built on hope,
I leave to your contriver, Pope:
None loves his king and country better,
Yet none was ever less their debtor.
Then let him come and take a nap
In summer on my verdant lap:
*Lady Charlotte de Roussy, a French lady. H. Marquis de Mirmont, a Frenchman of quality. H.
Prefer our villas, where the Thames is,
To Kensington, or hot St. James's;
Nor shall I dull in silence sit;
For 'tis to me he owes his wit:
My groves, my echoes, and my birds,
Have taught him his poetic words.
We gardens, and you wildernesses,
Assist all poets in distresses.
Him twice a week I here expect,
To rattle Moody* for neglect;
An idle rogue, who spends his quartridge
In tippling at the Dog and Partridge;
And I can hardly get him down
Three times a week to brush my gown.
RICHMOND LODGE.
I pity you, dear Marble Hill; But hope to see you flourish still. All happiness-and so adieu.
Kind Richmond Lodge, the same to you.
DESIRE AND POSSESSION. 1727.
'Tis strange what different thoughts inspire In men, Possession, and Desire!
Think what they wish so great a blessing;
So disappointed when possessing!
A moralist profoundly sage
(I know not in what book or page,
Or whether o'er a pot of ale)
Related thus the following tale:
Possession, and Desire his brother,
But still at variance with each other,
Were seen contending in a race;
And kept at first an equal pace:
'Tis said, their course continued long ;
For this was active, that was strong:
Till Envy, Slander, Sloth, and Doubt,
Misled them many a league about,
Seduc'd by some deceiving light,
They take the wrong way for the right;
Through slippery by-roads dark and deep,
They often climb, and often creep.
Desire, the swifter of the two,
Along the plain like lightning flew :
"Till, entering on a broad highway,
Where power and titles scatter'd lay,
He strove to pick up all he found,
And by excursions lost his ground:
No sooner got, than with disdain
He threw them on the ground again;
And hasted forward to pursue
Fresh objects fairer to his view;
In hope to spring some nobler game;
But all he took was just the same:
Too scornful now to stop his pace,
He spurn'd them in his rival's face.
Possession kept the beaten road,
And gather'd all his brother strow'd;
But overcharg'd, and out of wind,
Though strong in limbs, he lagg'd behind.
Desire had now the goal in sight:
It was a tower of monstrous height;
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