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1 Why had not I in thofe good times my birth,
'Ere coxcomb-pyes or coxcombs were on earth?
Unworthy he, the voice of Fame to hear,

105

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m That sweetest mufic to an honeft ear;
(For 'faith, Lord Fanny! you are in the wrong,
The world's good word is better than a fong)
Who has not learn'd, fresh fturgeon and ham-pye
Are no rewards for want, and infamy!
When Luxury has lick'd up all thy pelf,
Curs'd be thy neighbours, thy trustees, thyself,
To friends, to fortune, to mankind a shame,
Think how pofterity will treat thy name;
And buy a rope, that future times may tell
P
Thou haft at least bestow'd one penny well.

115

"Right, cries his Lordship, for a rogue in need

‹‹ To have a Taste is infolence indeed :

"In me 'tis noble, fuits my birth and state, "My wealth unwieldy, and my heap too great.” Then, like the Sun, let Bounty spread her ray, 121 And shine that fuperfluity away.

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Oh Impudence of wealth! with all thy ftore,
How dar'ft thou let one worthy man be poor?
Shall half the new-built churches round thee fall?
Make Keys, build Bridges, or repair White-hall:
Or to thy Country let that heap be lent,

As M**o's was, but not at five per cent.

NOTES.

preceding morality. Horace was very ferious, and pro

perly fo, when he faid,

'O magnus pofthac inimicis rifus! uterne

" Ad cafus dubios fidet fibi certius? hic, qui Pluribus affuerit mentem corpufque fuperbum; An qui contentus parvo metuenfque futuri,

In pace, ut fapiens, aptarit idonea bello?

V

✓ Quo magis his credas: puer hunc ego parvus

Ofellum

Integris opibus novi non latius ufum,

W

Quam nunc accifis. Videas, metato in agello,

Cum pecore et gnatis, fortem mercede colonum,
Non ego, narrantem, temere edi luce profesta
Quidquam, praeter * olus fumofae cum pede pernae.
Ac mihi feu longum poft tempus venerat hofpes,
Sive operum vacuo gratus conviva per imbrem
Vicinus; bene erat, non pifcibus urbe petitis,

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cur, Improbe! carae

Non aliquid patriae tanto emetiris acervo.

He remembered, and hints with juft indignation, at those luxurious Patricians of his old party; who, when they had agreed to establish a fund in the caufe of Freedom, under the conduct of Brutus, could never be perfuaded to withdraw from their expenfive pleasures what was fufficient for the fupport of fo great a caufe. He had prepared his

* Who thinks that fortune cannot change her mind, Prepares a dreadful jeft for all mankind.

u

And " who ftands fafeft? tell me, is it he
That spreads and fwells in puff'd Prosperity,
Or bleft with little, whofe preventing care
In peace provides fit arms against a war?

130

▾ Thus BETHEL fpoke, who always fpeaks his thought,

And always thinks the very thing he ought:

His equal mind I copy what I can,

And as I love, would imitate the Man.

In South-fea days not happier, when furmis'd

W

135

The Lord of Thousands, than if now w Excis'd; 140

In forest planted by a Father's hand,

Than in five acres now of rented land.

Content with little, I can piddle here

On brocoli and mutton, round the year;

But ancient friends (tho' poor, or out of play)

That touch my bell, I cannot turn away.

'Tis true, no Turbots dignify my boards,

But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames affords:

NOTES.

apology for this liberty, in the preceding line, where he pays a fine compliment to Auguftus:

quare

Templa ruunt antiqua Deûm? :

which oblique Panegyric the Imitator has very properly turned into a juft ftroke of fatire.

Et nux ornabat menfas, cum duplice ficu.

Poft hoc ludus erat a cuppa potare magistra :

Ac venerata Ceres, ita culmo furgeret alto,

Explicuit vino contractae feria frontis.

Saeviat atque novos moveat Fortuna tumultus !

Quantum hinc imminuet? quanto aut ego parcius,

aut ves,

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O pueri, nituiftis, ut huc novus incola venit ?

NOTES.

VER. 156. And, what's more rare, a Poet fhall fay Grace] The pleasantry of this line confifts in the supposed rarity of a Poet's having a table of his own; or a fense of gratitude for the bleffings he receives. But it contains,

To Hounflow-heath I point and Banfted-down,

Thence comes your mutton, and these chicks my

own:

a From yon old walnut-tree a show'r shall fall;
And grapes, long ling'ring on my only wall,
And figs from ftandard and efpalier join;
The dev'l is in you if you cannot dine:

150

Then 'chearful healths (your Mistress shall have place) And, what's more rare, a Poet shall fay Grace. 156 Fortune not much of humbling me can boast;

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Tho' double tax'd, how little have I loft?
My Life's amusements have been just the same,
Before, and after Standing Armies came.
My lands are fold, my father's house is gone;
I'll hire another's; is not that my own,

160

And yours, my friends? thro' whose free-opening gate None comes too early, none departs too late;

(For I, who hold fage Homer's rule the best, 165 Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.) "Pray heav'n it laft! (cries SWIFT!) as you go on; "I wish to God this houfe had been your own: "Pity! to build, without a fon or wife: "Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life." Well, if the ufe be mine, can it concern one, Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon?

NOTES.

170

too, a fober reproof of People of Condition, for their unmanly and brutal difufe of fo natural a duty.

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