Defire and Poffeffion.

T

Written in the Year 1727.

IS ftrange, what diff'rent Thoughts inspire
In Man, Poffeffion, and Defire;

Think what they wish so great a Blessing,
So disappointed when poffeffing.

A MORALIST profoundly fage,
I know not in what Book or Page,
Or, whether o'er a Pot of Ale,
Related thus the following Tale.

Poffeffion, and Defire, his Brother; But, ftill at Variance with each other, Were feen contending in a Race; And, kept at first an equal Pace :

'Tis faid, their Course continu'd long; For, This was active, That was ftrong:

B b

Till

Till Envy, Slander, Sloth, and Doubt,

Misled them many a League about.
Seduc'd by fome deceiving Light,
They take the wrong Way for the right.
Through flipp'ry By-roads dark and deep,
They often climb, and öftner creep.
Defire, the fwifter of the two,
Along the plain like Lightning flew :
Till entring on a broad High-way,
Where Power and Titles scatter'd lay,
He strove to pick up all he found,
And by Excurfions lost his Ground :
No fooner got, than with Disdain
He threw them on the Ground again;
And hafted forward to pursue

Fresh Objects fairer to his View;

In hope to spring some nobler Game :
But, all he took was juft the fame :
Too fcornful now to stop his Pace,
He fpurn'd them in his Rival's Face.

Poffeffion kept the beaten Road;

And, gather'd all his Brother ftrow'd;

But

But overcharg'd, and out of Wind,

Though ftrong in Limbs, he lagg'd behind.

Defire had now the Goal in Sight:
It was a Tow'r of monftrous Height,
Where, on the Summit Fortune stands
A Crown and Scepter in her Hands
Beneath, a Chafm as deep as Hell,
Where many a bold Advent'rer fell.
Defire, in Rapture gaz'd a while,
And faw the treach'rous Goddefs fmile
But, as he climb'd to grafp the Crown,
She knock't him with the Scepter down.
He tumbled in the Gulph profound;
There doom'd to whirl an endless Round.

Poffeffion's Load was grown fo great, He funk beneath the cumbrous Weight: And, as he now expiring lay,

Flocks ev'ry ominous Bird of Prey;

The Raven, Vulture, Owl, and Kite,
At once upon his Carcase light;

And ftrip his Hyde, and pick his Bones,
Regardless of his dying Groans.

*Bb 2

A PAS

A

Paftoral DIALOGUE

BETWEEN

Richmond Lodge and Marble-Hill.

Written June 1727, just after the News of the King's Death.

R

ICHMOND-Lodge is a House with a small Park belonging to the Crown: It was ufually granted by the Crown for a Lease of Years; the Duke of Ormonde was the laft who had it After his Exile, it was given to the Prince of Wales, by the King. The Prince aud Princefs ufually paffed their Summer there. It is within a Mile of Richmond.

Marble-Hill is a Houfe built by Mrs. Howard, then of the Bed-chamber, now Countess of Suffolk, and Groom of the Stole to the Queen. It is on the Middlefex Side, near Twickenham, where Mr. Popo lives, and about two Miles from Richmond-Lodge. Mr. Pope was the Contriver of the Gardens, Lord Herbert the Architect, and the Dean of St. Patrick's chief Butler, and Keeper of the Ice House. Upon King George's Death, these two Houses met, and had the following Dialogue.

IN

*I' IN

N Spight of Pope, in Spight of Gay, And all that He or They can fay; Sing on I muft, and fing I will

Of Richmond-Lodge, and Marble Hill.

LAST Friday Night, as Neighbours use, This Couple met to talk of News.

For by old Proverbs it appears,

That Walls have Tongues, and Hedges, Ears.
MARBLE-HILL.

Quoth Marble-Hill, right well I ween,
Your Mistress now is grown a Queen ;
You'll find it foon by woful Proof,
She'll come no more beneath your Roof,
RICHMOND-LODGE.

The kingly Prophet well evinces,
That we should put no Trust in Princes;
My Royal Mafter promis'd me

To raise me to a high Degree:
But now He's grown a King, God wot,
I fear I fhall be foon forgot.

You fee, when Folks have got their Ends,
How quickly they neglect their Friends;

Yet

* NOTE, This Poem was carried to Court, and read to the K. and 2;