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HORACE, BOOK II. SAT. VI.

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I

'VE often with'd that I had clear,

For life, fix hundred pounds a-year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace-walk, and half a rood
Of land set out to plant a wood.

Well, now I have all this and inore,
I ask not to increase my store ;
• But here a grievance feems to lie,
6. All this is mine but till I die;
"I can't but think ’rwould sound more clever,
"To me and to my heirs for ever.

• If I'ne'er got or lost a groat, • By any trick, or any fault; • And if I pray by reason's rules, • And not like forty other fools: • As thus, “ Vouchfase, oh gracious Maker! “ To grant me this and tother acre : “ Or, if it be thy will and pleasure, Direct my plow to find a treasure !" • But only what my station fits, 6-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 ; • Remov'd from all th' ambitious scene,

Nor puff'd by pride, nor sunk by spleen.'

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In short, I 'm perfectly content,
Let me but live on this side Trent;
Nor cross the Channel twice a year,
To spend fix 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 consider'd 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 honour in a pound,
Hemm'd by a triple circle round,
Chequer’d with ribbons blue and green :
How should I thrust myself between ?

observes me thus perplex’d,
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,
Tells me I have more zeal than wit,
“ So eager to express your love,
“ You ne'er consider whom you shove,

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Some wag

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I own,

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“ But rudely press before a duke.”

I 'm pleas’d 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 mens' affairs, Like bees, are humming in my ears. “ To-morrow my apppeal comes on; “ Without your help, the cause is gone The duke expects my About some great affair at two “ Put my lord Bolingbroke in mind, To get my warrant quickly sign'd : “ Confider, 'tis my first request.”. Be satisfy'd, I'll do my best: Then presently he falls to teaze, “ You may for certain, if you pleafe; “ I doubt not, if his lordship knew “ And, Mr. Dean, one word from you 'Tis (let me see) three years

and

more, (October next it will be four) Since Harley bid me first attend, And chose me for an humble friend; Would take me in his coach to chat, And question me of this and that ;

ford and you,

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As

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As,“ What's o'clock” And, “How's the wind?" “ Whose chariot 's that we left behind ?”

90 Or gravely try to read the lines Writ underneath the country figns; Or, “ Have you nothing new to-day “ From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?" Such tattle often entertains

95 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 proclaim'd at Charing-cross..

Yet some I know with envy swell, Because they see me us’d so well : “ How think you of our friend the Dean? “ I wonder what some people mean! “ My lord and he are grown so great, 105 “ 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 arriv'd at court : I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet, And catechis'd in every fireet. “ You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great ; “ Inform us, will the Emperor treat? “ Or do the prints and papers lie?"

115 Faith, Sir, you know as much as I. “ Ah, Doctor, how you love to jest ! “ 'Tis now no secret" – I protest

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lord mayor,

''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

my
They stand amaz’d, and think me grown
The closest mortal ever known.
Thus in a sea of folly toft,

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My choicest hours of life are loft ;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my country seat!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book ;

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And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those cares that haunt the court and town *.

THE AUTHOR UPON HIMSELF. 1713.

[A few of the first lines are wanting.]

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By an old

--- pursued
A crazy prelate t, and a royal prude I;
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 satire among Mr. Pope's poems.
+ Dr. Sharp, archbishop of York.
I Q. Anne.

So

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