"Take him with all his virtues, on my word; "His whole ambition was to ferve a Lord: "But, Sir, to you, with what would I not part? “Though faith, I fear, 'twill break his Mother's heart. "Once (and but once) I caught him in a lie, "And then, unwhipp'd, he had the grace to "The fault he has I fairly fhall reveal, (Could you o'erlook but that) it is, to fteal." c If, after this, you took the graceful lad, Could you complain, my Friend, he prov'd fo bad? Faith, in fuch cafe, if you fhould profecute,
I think Sir Godfrey should decide the fuit;
Who fent the Thief that stole the Cash, away,
And punish'd him that put it in his way.
d Confider then, and judge me in this light; I told you when I went, I could not write;
"Quin etiam canet indoctum, fed dulce bibenti. "Multa fidem promiffa levant, ubi plenius aequo "Laudat venales, qui vult extrudere, merces. "Res urget me nulla: meo fum pauper in aere. "Nemo hoc mangonum faceret tibi: non temere a me "Quivis ferret idem: femel hic ceffavit, et (ut fit) "In fcalis latuit metuens pendentis habenac: "Des nummos, excepta nihil te fi fuga laedit."
c Ille ferat pretium, poenae fecurus, opinor. Prudens emifti vitiofum: dicta tibi eft lex. Infequeris tamen hunc, et lite moraris iniqua. d Dixi me pigrum proficifcenti tibi, dixi Talibus officiis prope mancum; ne mea faevus
You faid the fame; and are you difcontent
With laws, to which you gave your own affent?
Nay worse, to ask for Verse at such a time!
D'ye think me good for nothing but to rhyme?
e In Anna's Wars, a Soldier poor and old
Had dearly earn'd a little purse of gold :
Tir'd with a tedious march, one luckless night,
He flept, poor dog! and loft it, to a doit.
This put the man in such a desperate mind,
Between revenge, and grief, and hunger join'd,
Against the foe, himself, and all mankind,
He leap'd the trenches, scal'd a Castle-wall,
Tore down a Standard, took the Fort and all.
"Prodigious well;" his great Commander cry'd,
Gave him much praife, and fome reward befide.
Next, pleas'd his Excellence a town to batter
(Its name I know not, and 'tis no great matter);
Jurgares ad te quod epiftola nulla veniret.
Quid tum profeci, mecum facientia jura
Si tamen attentas? quereris fuper hoc etiam, quod
Expectata tibi non mittam carmina mendax.
• Luculli miles collecta vistica multis
Aerumnis, laffus dum noctu ftertit, ad affem
Perdiderat poft hoc vehemens lupus, et fibi et hofti
Iratus pariter, jejunis dentibus acer,
Praefidium regale loco dejecit, ut aiunt,
Summe munito, et multarum divite rerum.
Clarus ob id factum, donis ornatur honeftis,
Accipit et bis dena fuper feftertia nummûm.
"Go on, my Friend, (he cry'd) fee yonder walls!
"Advance and conquer! go where glory calls!
"More honours, more rewards, attend the brave."
Don't you remember what reply he gave?
D'ye think me,
noble General, fuch a Sot?
"Let him take castles who has ne'er a groat."
f Bred up at home, full early I begun To read in Greek the wrath of Peleus' fon. Befides, my Father taught me from a lad, The better art to know the good from bad: (And little fure imported to remove,
To hunt for Truth in Maudlin's learned grove.)
But knottier points we knew not half so well,
Depriv'd us foon of our paternal Cell;
Forte fub hoc tempus caftellum evertere praetor
Nefcio quod cupiens, hortari coepit eundem
Verbis, quae timido quoque poffent addere mentem:
I, bone, quo virtus tua te vocat: i pede faufto,
Grandia laturus meritorum praemia: quid stas ?
Poft haec ille catus, quantumvis rufticus, "Ibit,
"Ibit eo, quo vis, qui zonam perdidit, inquit."
f Romae nutriri mihi contigit, atque doceri,
Iratus Graiis quantum nocuiffet Achilles,
Adjecere bonae paulo plus artis Athenae:
Scilicet ut poffem curvo dignofcere rectum,
Atque inter fylvas Academi quaerere verum.
Dura fed emovere loco me tempora grato;
Civilifque rudem belli tulit aeftus in arma,
Caefaris Augufti non refponfura lacertis.
And certain Laws, by fufferers thought unjust,
Deny'd all posts of profit or of truft:
Hopes after hopes of pious Papists fail'd,
While mighty William's thundering arm prevail'd.
For Right Hereditary tax'd and fin'd,
He stuck to poverty with peace of mind;
And me, the Mufes help'd to undergo it;
Convict a Papist he, and I a Poet.
But (thanks to Homer) fince I live and thrive,
Indebted to no Prince or Peer alive,
Sure I should want the care of ten Monroes,
If I would fcribble, rather than repose.
8 Years following years, steal fomething every day,
At laft they steal us from ourselves away;
In one our Frolics, one Amusements end,
In one a Miftrefs drops, in one a Friend:
This fubtle Thief of life, this paltry Time,
What will it leave me, if it snatch my rhyme?
If every
wheel of that unweary'd Mill,
That turn'd ten thousand verses, now ftands still?
Unde fimul primum me demifere Philippi,
Decifis humilem pennis, inopemque paterni
Et laris et fundi, paupertas impulit audax
Ut verfus facerem: fed, quod non defit, habentem,
Quae poterunt unquam fatis expurgare cicutae,
Ni melius dormire putem, quam fcribere versus ?
g Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes ;
Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ludum;
Tendunt extorquere poemata. quid faciam vis ?
h But after all, what would you have me do? When out of twenty I can please not two;
When this Heroics only deigns to praise,
Sharp Satire that, and that Pindaric lays?
One likes the Pheasant's wing, and one the leg;
The vulgar boil, the learned roast an egg.
Hard task! to hit the palate of such guests,
When Oldfield loves, what Dartineuf detefts.
i But grant I may relapse, for want of grace,
Again to rhyme: can London be the place?
Who there his Mufe, or felf, or foul attends,
In crouds, and courts, law, business, feafts, and friends? My counsel fends to execute a deed :
A Poet begs me I will hear him read
In Palace-yard at nine you'll find me there-
At ten for certain, Sir, in Bloomsbury square-
Before the Lords at twelve my Caufe comes on-
There's a Rehearsal, Sir, exa&t at one.---
Denique non omnes eadem mirantur amantque.
Carmine tu gaudes: hic delectatur iambis ;
Ille Bioneis fermonibus, et fale nigro.
Tres mihi convivae prope diffentire videntur,
Pofcentes vario multum diverfa palato.
Quid dem ? quid non dem ? renuis quod tu, jubet alter:
Quod petis, id fane eft invifum acidumque duobus.
i Praeter caetera me Romaene poemata cenfes
Scribere poffe, inter tot curas totque labores?
Hic fponfum vocat, hic auditum fcripta, relictis
Omnibus officiis: cubat hic in colle Quirini,
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