Some wag observes me thus perplext, And smiling whispers to the next, "I thought the dean had been too proud "To justle here among a croud." Another in a furly fit n pleas'd 2 35 Tells me, I have more zeal than wit; " So eager to express your love, "You ne'er confider whom you shove, " But rudely press before a duke." I own, I'm pleas'd with this rebuke, 40 And take it kindly meant to show What I defire the world should know. I get a whisper, and withdraw, When twenty fools I never faw Come with petitions fairly penn'd, Defiring I wou'd stand their friend. This humbly offers me his cafe --That begs my int'rest for a place --An hundred other men's affairs Like bees are humming in my ears. "To-morrow my appeal comes on, "Without your help the cause is gone"-- 45 50 35. Quid vis, insane, et quas res agis? improbus urget, 44. Aliena negotia centum Per caput et circa faliunt latus. The 55 The duke expects my lord and you (October next it will be four) As, -- 65 "What's o'clock?" and "how's -the wind? "Whose chariot's that we left behind?" 70 Or gravely try to read the lines "From Pope, from Parnel, or from Gay?" 60. --Si vis, potes, addit et inftat. T Such :: 75 Such tattle often entertains Because they fee me us'd so well : My lord and he are grown so great, 85 -- ว "Always together, tête à tête "What, they admire him for his jokes --"See but the fortune of fome folks!" 3 90 There flies about a strange report Of fome express arriv'd at court, I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet, And catechis'd in ev'ry street. " You, mr. dean, frequent the great; " Inform us, will the emp'ror treat? "Or, do the prints and papers lye?" 95 Faith, fir, you know as much as I. "Ah! doctor, how you love to jest! " 'Tis now no secret"---I proteft 89. Frigidus à roftris manat per compita rumor; Quicunque obvius eft, me confulit. / 'Tis 'Tis one to me. --- " Then tell us, pray, " When are the troops to have their pay?" 100 And though I folemnly declare 105 Thus in a fea of folly tofs'd My choicest 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! 110 And there in sweet oblivion drown Those cares that haunt the court and town! 101. Jurantem me scire nibil, mirantur, ut unum Scilicet egregii mortalem altique filenti. 108. O rus, quando ego te afpiciam, quandoque licebit Nunc veterum libris, nunc fomno, et inertibus horis Ducere follicite jucunda oblivia vitæ ? * THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON. In Imitation of MARTIAL. PARSON, these things in thy poffeffing Are better than the bishop's blessing. A wife that makes conferves; a steed He that has these, may pass his life, Toaft |