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The Dutch-hearted Whigs may rail and complain;
But true Englishmen may fill
A good health to General Hill;
For the Queen now enjoys her own again.
Addressed to the Earl of OXFORD, 1713.
HARLEY, the nation's great fupport,
Returning home one day from court,
(His mind with public cares pofsest,
All Europe's business in his breast),
Observ'd a parjon near Whitehall
Cheapening old authors on a stall.
The priest was pretty well in case,
And shew'd some humour in his face ;
Look'd with an easy, careless mien,
A perfect stranger to the spleen ;
Of lize that might a pulpit fill,
But more inclining to sit still.
My Lord (who, if a man may say 't,
Loves mischief better than his meat)
Was now dispos'd to crack a jest,
And bid friend Lewis * go in quest
(This Lewis is a cunning shaver,
And very much in Harley's favour),
In quest who might this parfon be,
What was his name, of what degree;
* Erasmus Lewis cfq. the treasurer's secretary.
If possible, to learn his story,
And whether he were Whig or Tory.
Lewis his patron's humour knows,
Away upon his errand goes,
25 And quickly did the matter fift; Found out that it was Doctor Swift; A clergyman of special note For shunning those of his own coat; Which made his brethren of the gown
30 Take care betimes to run him down : No libertine, nor over nice, Addicted to no fort of vice, Went where he pleas'd), said what he thought; Not rich, but ow'd no man a groat:
35 In state opinions à la mode, He hated Wharton like a toad, Had given the fa£ion many a wound, And libel'd all the junto round: Kept company with men of wit, Who often father'd what he writ: His works were hawk'd in every street, But seldom rose above a sheet: Of late indeed the paper-stamp Did very much his genius cramp:
45 And since he could not spend his fire, He now intended to retire. Said Harley,
“ I desire to know * From his owa mouth if this be fo; Step to the Doctor strait, and say,
50 6. I'd have him dine with me to-day.”
Swift seem'd to wonder what he meant,
Nor would believe my Lord had sent;
So never offer'l once to stir;
But coldly said, “ Your servant, Sir !
“ Does he refuse me?” Harley cry’d;
“ He does, with insolence and pride."
Some few days after Harley spies
The Doctor faften’d by the eyes
At Charing-cross among the rout,
Where painted monsters are hung out :
He puild the string, and stopt his coach,
Beckoning the Doctor to approach.
Swift, who could neither fly nor hide,
Came sneaking to the chariot-fide,
And offer'd many a lame excuse :
He never meant the least abuse
the honour you design'el -
“ Extremely proud but I had din'd
“ I 'm sure I never should neglect -
“ No man alive has more respect --"
“ Well, I thall think of that no more,
“ If you 'll be sure to come at four.”
The Doctor now obeys the summons,
Likes both his company and commons ;
Displays his talent, fits till ten ;
Next day invited comes again;
Soon grows domestic, feldom fails
Either at morning or at meals :
Came early, and sleparted late;
In fhort, the gudgeon took the bait.
My Lord would carry on the jest,
And down to Windsor takes his guest.
Swift much admires the place and air,
And longs to be a canon there ;
In summer round the park to ride,
In winter, never to refide.
A canon! that 's a place too mean;
No, Doctor, you shall be a Dean ;
Two dozen canons round your stall,
o'er them all :
You need but cross the Irish seas,
To live in plenty, power, and ease.
Poor Swift departs; and, what is worse,
With borrow'd money in his purse,
Travels at least an hundred leagues,
And suffers numberless fatigues.
Suppose him now a Dean complete,
Demurely lolling in his feat;
The silver verge, with decent pride,
Stuck underneath his cushion-side ;
Suppose him gone through all vexations,
Patents, instalments, abjurations,
First-fruits and tenths, and chapter-treats ;
Dues, payments, fees, demands, and cheats
(The wicked laity's contriving
To hinder clergymen from thriving).
Now all the Doctor's money 's spent,
His tenants wrong him in his rent;
The farmers, fpitefully combin'd,
Force hiin to take his tithes in kind :
And Parvifol * discounts arrears
By bills for taxes and repairs.
Poor Swift, with all his loftes vex'd,
Not knowing where to turn him next, IIS
Above a thousand pounds in debt,
Takes horse, and in a mighty fret
Rides day and night at fuch a rate,
He foon arrives at Harley's gate ;
But was so dirty, pale, and thin,
Old Read t would hardly let him in.:
Said Harley, “ Welcome, Reverend Dean ! “ What makes your worship look so lean ?
in town “ In that old wig and rusty gown?
125 “ I doubt your heart is set on pelf “ So much, that you neglect yourself. “ What ! I suppose, now stocks are high, “ You ’ve some good purchase in your eye? “ Or is your money out at use ?"
130 “ Truce, good my Lord, I beg a truce," (The Doctor in a passion cry'd) • Your raillery is inisapply'd; • Experience I have dearly bought; “ You know I am not worth a groat :
refolu'd to have your jest; “ And 'twas a folly to contest; “ Then, since you now have done your worst, “ Pray leave me where you found me first.” * The Dean's agent, a Frenchman. Swift. + The Lord Treasurer's porter.