Or, if it be thy will and pleasure,
Direct my plough to find a treasure!'
But only what my station fits,
And to be kept in my right wits,
Preserve, Almighty Providence!
Just what you gave me, competence:
And let me in these shades compose
Something in verse as true as prose;
Removed from all th' ambitious scene,
Nor puff'd by pride, nor sunk by spleen."]
In short, I'm perfectly content,

Let me but live on this side Trent;
Nor cross the channel twice a year,
To spend six months with statesmen here.
I must by all means come to town,
'Tis for the service 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 ministers ne'er think of these;
Or let it cost five hundred pound,
No matter where the money's found,
It is but so much more in debt,
And that they ne'er considered yet.

"Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, Let my lord know you're come to town." I hurry me in haste away,

Not thinking it is levee-day

And find his honor in a pound,
Hemm'd by a triple circle round,

Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green:
How should I thrust myself between?
Some wag observes me thus perplex'd,
And, smiling, whispers to the next,
"I thought the dean had been too proud,
To justle here among a crowd!"
Another, in a surly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit.
"So eager to express your love,
You ne'er consider whom you shove,
But rudely press before a duke."
I own, I'm pleased with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to show
What I desire the world should know.
I get a whisper, and withdraw;
When twenty fools I never saw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Desiring I would stand their friend.
This humbly offers me his case
That begs my interest for a place
A hundred other men's affairs,
Like bees, are humming in my ears.

'Tis (let me see) three years and more (October next it will be four) Since Harley bid me first attend, And choose 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?"

"Whose chariot's that we left behind?"

Or gravely try to read the lines

Writ underneath the country signs;
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 Windsor, and again to town,
Where all that passes inter nos
Might be proclaimed at Charing-cross.
Yet some I know with envy swell,
Because they see me used so well:
"How think you of our friend the dean?
I wonder what some people mean!
My lord and he are grown so great,
Always together, tête-à-tête;

What! they admire him for his jokes?
See but the fortune of some folks!"

There flies about a strange report
Of some express arrived at court:
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechised in every street.
"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 secret" I protest
'Tis one to me. "Then tell us, pray,
When are the troops to have their pay?"
And, though I solemnly declare

I know no more than iny lord-mayor,
They stand amazed, and think me grown

Thus in a sea of folly toss'd,
My choicest hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
O, could I see my country-seat!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book;
And there in sweet oblivion drown

Those cares that haunt the court and town.1

IIORACE, BOOK II. ODE I. PARAPHRASED.

ADDRESSED TO RICHARD STEELE, ESQ. 1714.

"Eu qui promittit, cives, urbem sibi curæ,
Imperium fore, et Italiam, et delubra deorum."

HOR. SAT. I. vi. 34.

DICK, thou'rt resolved, as I am told,
Some strange arcana to unfold,
And with the help of Buckley's pen
To vamp the good old cause again:
Which thou (such Burnet's shrewd advice is)
Must furbish up and nickname Crisis.
Thou pompously wilt let us know
What all the world knew long ago,
(E'er since sir William Gore was mayor,
And Harley fill'd the commons' chair,)
That we a German prince must own,
When Anne for heaven resigns her throne.
But, more than that, thou'lt keep a rout.
With who is in- and who is out?
Thou'lt rail devoutly at the peace,
And all its secret causes trace,

The bucket-play 'twixt Whigs and Tories,
Their ups and downs, with fifty stories
Of tricks the lord of Oxford knows,
And errors of our plenipoes.

Thou'lt tell of leagues among the great,
Portending ruin to our state:
And of that dreadful coup d'éclat,
Which has afforded thee much chat.
The queen, forsooth! (despotic,) gave
Twelve coronets without thy leave!
A breach of liberty, 'tis own'd,
For which no heads have yet atoned!
Believe me, what thou'st undertaken
May bring in jeopardy thy bacon;
For madmen, children, wits, and fools,
Should never meddle with edged tools.
But, since thou'rt got into the fire,
And canst not easily retire,

'Tis (let me see) three years and more (October next it will be four) Since Harley bid me first attend, And choose 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?" "Whose chariot's that we left behind?"

Or gravely try to read the lines

Writ underneath the country signs;
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 Windsor, and again to town,
Where all that passes inter nos
Might be proclaimed at Charing-cross.
Yet some I know with envy swell,
Because they see me used so well:
"How think you of our friend the dean?
I wonder what some people mean!
My lord and he are grown so great,
Always together, tête-à-tête;

What! they admire him for his jokes?
See but the fortune of some folks!"

There flies about a strange report
Of some express arrived at court:
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechised in every street.
"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.

66

--

Ah, doctor, how you love to jest!
'Tis now no secret" I protest
'Tis one to me -" "Then tell us, pray,
When are the troops to have their pay?"
And, though I solemnly declare

I know no more than iny lord-mayor,
They stand amazed, and think me grown

Thus in a sea of folly toss'd,
My choicest hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
O, could I see my country-seat!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book;
And there in sweet oblivion drown

Those cares that haunt the court and town.'

HIORACE, BOOK II. ODE I. PARAPHRASED.

ADDRESSED TO RICHARD STEELE, ESQ. 1714.
"Eu qui promittit, cives, urbem sibi curæ,
Imperium fore, et Italiam, et delubra deorum."

DICK, thou'rt resolved, as I am told,
Some strange arcana to unfold,
And with the help of Buckley's pen
To vamp the good old cause again :

HOR. SAT. I. vi. 34.

Which thou (such Burnet's shrewd advice is)
Must furbish up and nickname Crisis.
Thou pompously wilt let us know
What all the world knew long ago,
(E'er since sir William Gore was mayor,
And Harley fill'd the commons' chair,)
That we a German prince must own,
When Anne for heaven resigns her throne.
But, more than that, thou'lt keep a rout.
With who is in-and who is out?
Thou'lt rail devoutly at the peace,
And all its secret causes trace,

The bucket-play 'twixt Whigs and Tories,
Their ups and downs, with fifty stories
Of tricks the lord of Oxford knows,
And errors of our plenipoes.

Thou'lt tell of leagues among the great,
Portending ruin to our state:
And of that dreadful coup d'éclat,
Which has afforded thee much chat.
The queen, forsooth! (despotic,) gave
Twelve coronets without thy leave!
A breach of liberty, 'tis own'd,
For which no heads have yet atoned!
Believe me, what thou'st undertaken
May bring in jeopardy thy bacon;
For madmen, children, wits, and fools,
Should never meddle with edged tools.
But, since thou'rt got into the fire,
And canst not easily retire,