"When are the troops to have their pay?" And, though I folemnly declare
I know no more than my lord mayor,
They stand amaz'd, and think me grown
The closeft 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 peruse some ancient book;
And there in sweet 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 †, and a royal prude‡;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On every genius that attempts to rise;
And, pausing 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 parfon in his gait or face;
Defpis'd luxurious wines and coftly meat;
Yet ftill was at the tables of the
Frequented lords; farw thofe that faw 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 sort, -
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 fupport,
By Harley Swift invited comes to court;
In favour grows with minifters of ftate;
Admitted private, when fuperiors wait :
And Harley, not afham'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 whispers in his ear:
* Coffee-houses much frequented by the Clergy.
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 prieft is got behind the curtain.
Finch, fam'd for tedious elocution, proves
That Swift oils many a fpring 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 ftate:
"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 Somerfet § 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 fpoke against him in the H. of C.
Tale of a Tub.
He fent a meffage, to afk Swift's pardon. § See the Windfor Prophecy, p. 78.
Now through the realm a proclamation spread,
To fix a price on his devoted head *.
While innocent, he scorns ignoble flight;
His watchful friends preferve him by a fleight.
By Harley's favour once again he shines ;
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 thrufts half his powder'd nofe.
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 Miniftry 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 strove 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 close 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 lashing one another round :
While wife men think they ought to fight
With quarter-faffs, inftead of white;
Or conftable with staff of peace
Should come and make the clattering cease;
Which now difturbs the Queen and court,
And gives the Whigs and rabble fport.
In hiftory we never found
The Confuls' Fafces were unbound:
Thofe Romans were too wife to think on 't,
Except to lash 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!
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