But I love elbow-room whene'er I drink;
And honest Harry is too apt to stink.

Let no pretence of business make you stay;
Yet take one word of counsel by the way.
If Guernsey calls, send word you're gone abroad;
He'll teaze you with King Charles, and Bishop
Laud,

Or make you fast, and carry you to prayers; But, if he will break in, and walk up stairs, Steal by the back-door out, and leave him there; Then order Squash to call a hackney chair.

PEACE AND DUNKIRK.

BEING AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG UPON THE SURREN

DER OF DUNKIRK TO GENERAL HILL. 1712.

To the tune of, "The King shall enjoy his own again."

I.

SPITE of Dutch friends and English foes,
Poor Britain shall have peace at last :
Holland got towns, and we got blows;
But Dunkirk's ours, we'll hold it fast.
We have got it in a string,

And the whigs may all go swing,
For among good friends I love to be plain;
All their false deluded hopes

Will, or ought to end in ropes ;

"But the queen shall enjoy her own
shall enjoy her own again.”

II.

Sunderland's run out of his wits,
And Dismal double Dismal looks;
Wharton can only swear by fits,
And strutting Hall is off the hooks;
Old Godolphin, full of spleen,
Made false moves and lost his queen;
Harry look'd fierce, and shook his ragged mane:
But a prince of high renown

Swore he'd rather lose a crown, "Than the queen should enjoy her own again."

III.

Our merchant ships may cut the line,
And not be snapt by privateers,
And commoners who love good wine
Will drink it now as well as peers:
Landed men shall have their rent,
Yet our stocks rise cent. per cent.

The Dutch from hence shall no more millions

drain:

We'll bring on us no more debts,

Nor with bankrupts fill gazettes; "And the queen shall enjoy her own again."

IV.

The towns we took ne'er did us good:
What signified the French to beat?
We spent our money and our blood,

To make the Dutchmen proud and great:
But the lord of Oxford swears,
Dunkirk never shall be theirs.

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."

HORACE, BOOK I. EP. VII.

ADDRESSED TO THE EARL OF OXFORD. 1713.

HARLEY, the nation's great support,
Returning home one day from court,
(His mind with public cares possest,
All Europe's business in his breast)
Observed a parson near Whitehall,
Cheapening old authors on a stall,
The priest was pretty well in case,
And show'd some humour in his face;
Look'd with an easy, careless mien,
A perfect stranger to the spleen;
Of size 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 disposed 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 parson be,
What was his name, of what degree;
If possible, to learn his story,
And whether he were whig or tory.
Lewis his patron's humour knows,
Away upon his errand goes,
And quickly did the matter sift;
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
Take care betimes to run him down:

*Erasmus Lewis, Esq. the treasurer's secretary.

No libertine, nor over nice,

Addicted to no sort of vice,

Went where he pleas'd, said what he thought;
Not rich, but owed no man a groat:
In state opinions à la mode,

He hated Wharton like a toad,
Had given the faction many a wound,
And libell'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;
And since he could not spend his fire,
He now intended to retire.

Said Harley, "I desire to know
From his own mouth, if this be so;
Step to the doctor straight, and say,
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'd once to stir;

But coldly said, Your servant, sir!"
"Does he refuse me?" Harley cried:
"He does, with insolence and pride."
Some few days after, Harley spies
The doctor fasten'd by the eyes
At Charing-cross, among the rout,
Where painted monsters are hung out:
He pull'd the string, and stopt his coach,
Beckoning the doctor to approach.

Swift, who could neither fly nor hide,
Came sneaking to the chariot side,
And offer'd many a lame excuse:
He never meant the least abuse-

My lord-- the honour you design'dExtremely proud-but I had dined

I'm sure I never should neglect-
No man alive has more respect"-
"Well, I shall 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 talents, sits till ten;
Next day invited, comes again;
Soon grows domestic, seldom fails
Either at morning or at meals:
Came early, and departed late;
In short, 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 reside.

A canon! that's a place too mean:
No, doctor, you shall be a dean;
Two dozen canons round your stall,
And you the tyrant 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 a hundred leagues,
And suffers numberless fatigues.

Suppose him now a dean complete,

Demurely lolling in his seat;

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.