Imatges de pàgina
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Now all the doctor's money spent,
His tenants wrong him in his rent;
The farmers, spitefully combined,
Force him to take his tithes in kind
And Parvisol* discounts arrears
By bills for taxes and repairs.

Poor Swift, with all his losses vex'd,
Not knowing where to turn him next,
Above a thousand pounds in debt,
Takes horse, and in a mighty fret
Rides day and night at such a rate,
He soon arrives at Harley's gate;
But was so dirty, pale, and thin,
Old Read † would hardly let him in.

Said Harley," Welcome, reverend Dean! What makes your worship look so lean? Why, sure you won't appear in town In that old wig and rusty gown? 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?"

"Truce, good my lord, I beg a truce,"
(The doctor in a passion cried)
"Your raillery is misapplied;

Experience I have dearly bought;
You know I am not worth a groat :
But you resolved 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.

+ The lord treasurer's porter.

THE AUTHOR UPON HIMSELF. 1713.

[A few of the first lines are wanting.]

*By an old

*

pursued,

A crazy prelate, and a royal prude; †
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.
So clowns on scholars as on wizards look,
And take a folio for a conjuring book.

Swift had the sin of wit, no venial crime; Nay, 'tis affirm'd, he sometimes dealt in rhyme; Humour and mirth had place in all he writ; He reconciled divinity and wit:

He moved and bow'd, and talk'd with too much grace;

Nor show'd the parson in his gait or face;
Despised luxurious wines and costly meat;
Yet still was at the tables of the great;

* Dr John Sharpe, who, for some unbecoming reflections in his sermons, had been suspended, May 14, 1686, was raised from the deanery of Canterbury, to the archbishopric of York, July 5, 1691; and died Feb. 2, 1712-13. According to Dr Swift's ac count, the archbishop had represented him to the queen as a person that was not a christian; a great lady [the duchess of Somerset] supported the aspersion; and the queen, upon such assurances, had given away a bishopric contrary to her majesty's first intentions [which were in favour of Swift.] ORRERY.

† Queen Anne.

Frequented lords; saw those that saw the queen;
At Child's or Truby's, f never once had been ;
Where town and country vicars flock in tribes,
Secured by numbers from the laymen's gibes;
And deal in vices of the graver sort,
Tobacco, censure, coffee, pride, and port.
But, after sage monitions from his friends,
His talents to employ for nobler ends;
To better judgments willing to submit,
He turns to politics his dangerous wit.

And now, the public interest to support,
By Harley Swift invited comes to court;
In favour grows with ministers of state;
Admitted private, when superiors wait:
And Harley, not ashamed his choice to own,
Takes him to Windsor in his coach alone.
At. Windsor Swift no sooner can appear,
But St John comes, and whispers in his ear:
The waiters stand in ranks; the yeomen cry,
Make room, as if a duke were passing by.

Now Finch * alarms the lords : he hears for certain

This dangerous priest is got behind the curtain.
Finch, famed for tedious elocution, proves
That Swift oils many a spring which Harley moves.
Walpole and Aislaby, † to clear the doubt,
Inform the commons, that the secret's out:

poem,

Coffee-houses frequented by the clergy. In the preceding
Switt gives the same trait of his own character:

A clergyman of special note,

For shunning those of his own coat.

His feeling towards his order was exactly the reverse of his celebrated misanthropical expression of hating mankind, but loving individuals. On the contrary, he loved the church, but disliked associating with individual clergymen.

* Daniel Finch, earl of Nottingham.

t John Aislaby, then M. P. for Rippon. They both spoke against him in the house of commons.

"A certain doctor is observed of late
To haunt a certain minister of state:
From whence with half an eye we may discover
The peace is made, and Perkin must come over."
York is from Lambeth sent, to shew the queen
A dangerous treatise writ against the spleen;
Which, by the style, the matter, and the drift,
'Tis thought could be the work of none but Swift.
Poor York! the harmless tool of others' hate;
He sues for pardon,* and repents too late.

Now angry Somerset her vengeance vows
On Swift's reproaches for her *******
spouse:†
From her red locks her mouth with venom fills,
And thence into the royal ear instils.

The queen incensed, his services forgot,
Leaves him a victim to the vengeful Scot. ||
Now through the realm a proclamation spread,
To fix a price on his devoted head. §
While innocent, he scorns ignoble flight;
His watchful friends preserve him by a sleight.
By Harley's favour once again he shines;
Is now caress'd by candidate divines,
Who change opinions with the changing scene:
Lord! how were they mistaken in the Dean!
Now Delawar again familiar grows;

And in Swift's ear thrusts half his powder'd nose.

Tale of a Tub.

* He sent a message to ask Swift's pardon.

+ Insert "murder'd." The duchess's first husband, Thomas Thynne, Esq., was assassinated in Pall Mall by banditti, the emissaries of count Coningsmarc. As the motive of this crime was the count's love to the lady, with whom Thynne had never cohabited, Swift seems to throw upon her the imputation of being privy to the crime. See the Windsor Prophecy.

The duke of Argyle.

§ For writing "The Public Spirit of the Whigs."

Then lord-treasurer of the household, who cautiously avoided Swift while the proclamation was impending.

The Scottish nation, whom he durst offend,
Again apply that Swift would be their friend.*
By faction tired, with grief he waits a while,
His great contending friends to reconcile;
Performs what friendship, justice, truth require :
What could he more, but decently retire?

THE FAGGOT.

WRITTEN WHEN THE MINISTRY WERE AT VARIANCE, 1713.

66

[This fable is one of the vain remonstrances by which Swift strove to close the breach between Oxford and Bolingbroke, in the last period of their administration, which, to use Swift's own words, was nothing else but a scene of murmuring and discontent, quarrel and misunderstanding, animosity and hatred;" so that these two great men had scarcely a common friend left, except the author himself, who laboured with unavailing zeal to reconcile their dissentions.]

OBSERVE the dying father speak,
Try, lads, can you this bundle break?
Then bids the youngest of the six
Take up a well-bound heap of sticks.
They thought it was an old man's maggot;
And strove, by turns, to break the faggot:

* He was visited by the Scots lords more than ever.

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