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, ipitefully combin'd,
Force him to take his tythes in kind:
And Parvifol discounts arrears
By bills for taxes and repairs.

Poor Swift, with all his loffes vex'd,
Not knowing where to turn him next,
Above a thousand pounds in debt,
Takes horfe, and in a mighty fret
Rides day and might at fuch a rate,
He foon arrives at Harley's gate;
But was fo dirty, pale, and thin,
Old Read + would hardly let him in.

Said Harley, "Welcome, Reverend Dean! "What makes your worship look fo lean? "Why, fure you won't appear in town In that old wig and rufty gown? "I doubt your heart is set on pelf "So much that you neglect yourself. "What! I fuppofe now ftocks are high, You've fome good purchafe in your eye? "Or is your money out at ufe?"

"Truce, good my Lord, I beg a truce,” The Doctor in a pation cried, "Your raillery is mifapplied; "Experience I have dearly bought; "You know I am not worth a groat: "But you refolv'd to have your jeft, "And't was a folly to conteft.

"Then, fince you now have done your worst, "Pray leave me where you found me first."

And let me in thefe fhades compofe Something in verse as true as profe; Remov'd from all th' ambitious fcene, Nor puff'd by pride, nor funk by spleen.' In short, I'm perfectly content, Let me but live on this fide Trent; Nor crofs the channel twice a year, To fpend fix months with statesmen here. I must by all means come to town, 'Tis for the fervice of the crown. "Lewis, the Dean will be of use ; "Send for him up, take no excufe." The toil, the danger of the feasGreat minifters ne'er think of these; Or let it coft five hundred pound, No matter where the money 's found; It is but fo much more in debt, And that they ne'er confider'd yet.

"Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown; Let my Lord know you 're come to town." I hurry me in hafte 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 fhould I thruft myfelf between?
Some wag
obferves me thus perplex'd,

And, fmiling, whispers to the next :
"I thought the Dean had been too proud
"To juftle here among a crowd!”
Another, in a furly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit:
"So eager to exprefs your love,
"You ne'er confider whom you shove,
"But rudely prefs before a duke."
I own I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant, to fhew
What I defire the world fhould know.
I get a whisper, and withdraw ;
When twenty fools I never faw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Defiring I would stand their friend.

This humbly offers me his cafe;
That begs my intereft for a place:
A hundred other men's affairs,
Like bees, are humming in my ears.
"To-morrow my appeal comes on;

Without your help, the caufe is gone." The Duke expects my Lord and you, About fome great affair, at two. "Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind "To get my warrant quickly fign'd: "Confider, 'tis my first request." Be fatisfied, I'll do my best. Then prefently he falls to teafe: "You may for certain, if you pleafe: "I doubt not, if his lordfhip knew"And, Mr. Dean, one word from you-" 'Tis (let me fee) three years and more (October next it will be four) Since Harley bid me first attend, And chofe me for an humble friend;

The Lord Treasurer's porter.

Would

The fexton fhall green fods on thee bestow;
Alas, the fexton is thy banker now!
A difmal banker must that banker be,
Who gives no bills but of mortality.

§ 221. Epitaph on a Miser.
BENEATH this verdant hillock lies
Demar, the wealthy and the wife.
His heirs, that he might fafely reft,
Have put his carcafe in a cheft;
The very cheft in which, they fay,
His other felf, his money, lay.
And, if his heirs continue kind
To that dear felf he left behind,
I dare believe that four in five
Will think his better half alive.

§ 223. Dr. Delany's Villa.

WOULD you that Delville I describe ?
Believe me, Sir, I will not jibe:

For who would be fatirical
Upon a thing fo very small?

You fcarce upon the borders enter,
Before you 're at the very centre.
A fingle crow can make it night,
When o'er your farm the takes her flight:
Yet, in this narrow compass, we
Obferve a vast variety;

Both walks, walls, meadows, and parterres,
Windows and doors, and rooms and stairs,
And hills and dales, and woods and fields,
And hay, and grafs, and corn, it yields;
All to your haggard brought to cheap in,
Without the mowing or the reaping:
A razor, though to fay 't I'm loth,
Would have you and your meadows both.

Though fmall's the farm, yet here's a houfe
Full large to entertain a mouse;
But where a rat is dreaded more
Than favage Caledonian boar;
For, if it's enter'd by a rat,
There is no room to bring a cat.

A little rivulet feems to fteal
Down through a thing you call a vale,
Like tears adown a wrinkled check,
Like rain along a blade of leek;
And this you call your fweet meander,
Which might be fuck'd up by a gander,
Could he but force his nether bill
To fcoop the channel of the rill.
For fure you'd make a mighty clutter,
Were it as big as city-gutter.

Next come I to your kitchen-garden,
Where one poor moufe would fare but hard in;

And round this garden is a walk,
No longer than a taylor's chalk;
Thus I compare what space is in it,
A fnail creeps round it in a minute.
One lettuce makes a thift to fqueeze
Up through a tuft you call your trees:
And, once a year, a single rofe
Peeps from the bud, but never blows;
In vain then you expect its bloom!
It cannot blow for want of room.

In short, in all your boasted seat, There's nothing but yourself that 's great.

Which, and I am fure I have been his fervant four years fince October,

drunk or fober:

And he never call'd me worfe than fweet-heart, [to my knowledge, Not that I know his reverence was ever concern'd Though you and your come-rogues keep him out fo late in your college. [cat grafs ! You fay you will eat grafs on his grave: a chriftian Whereby you now confefs yourself to be a goofe or an afs: [die before ye; But that's as much as to fay, that my master should Well, well, that's as God pleafes; and I don't believe that's a true story:

And fo fay I told you fo, and you may go tell my mafter, what care I? [Mary. And I don't care who knows it; 'tis all one to Every body knows that I love to tell truth, and [fhould be civil, I am but a poor fervant, but I think gentlefolks Befides, you found fault with our victuals one day [year;

fhame the devil;

that you was here;

and mocking:

I remember it was on a Tuesday, of all days in the And Saunders the man fays you are always jefting [fter's stocking), Mary, faid he (one day as I was mending my maMy mafter is fo fond of that minifter that keeps

the school

I thought my mafter a wife man, but that man

makes him a fool.

Saunders,

Saunders, faid I, I would rather than a quart of ale He would come into our kitchen, and I would pin a difhclout to his tail.

And now I must go, and get Saunders to direct this letter; [the writes better. For I write but a fad fcrawl, but my fifter Marget Well, but I must run and make the bed, before iny mafter comes from pray'rs : And fee now, it strikes ten, and I hear him coming up ftairs; [write written hand: Whereof I could fay more to your verfes, if I could And so I remain, in a civil way, your fervant to command. MARY.

$225. Riddles, by Dr. Swift and his Friends, written in or about the Year 1724.

On a Pen.

IN youth exalted high in air,

Or bathing in the waters fair,
Nature to form me took delight,
And clad my body all in white,
My perfon tall, and flender waist,
On either fide with fringes grac'd;
Till me that tyrant man espied,

And dragg'd me from my mother's fide:
No wonder now I look fo thin;
The tyrant ftripp'd me to the skin;
My fkin he flay'd, my hair he cropp'd;
At head and foot my body lopp'd:

And then, with heart more hard than stone,
He pick'd my marrow from the bone.
To vex me more, he took a freak
To flit my tongue, and make me speak :
But, that which wonderful appears,
I fpeak to eyes, and not to cars.
He oft employs me in difguife,
And makes me teil a thoufand lies:
To me he chiefly gives in truft
To please his malice or his luft;
From me no fecret he can hide,
I fee his vanity and pride:
And my delight is to expose
His follies to his greateft foes.

All languages I can command,
Yet not a word I understand.
Without my aid, the best divine
In learning would not know a line :
The lawyer muft forget his pleading;
The fcholar could not fhew his reading.
Nay, man, my mafter is
my flave:
I give command to kill or fave;
Can grant ten thousand pounds a year,
And make a beggar's brat a peer.

But, while I thus my life relate,

I only haften on my fate.

My tongue is black, my mouth is furṛ'd,
I hardly now can force a word.

I die unpitied and forgot,
And on fome dunghill left to rot.

$226. On Gold.

ALL-RULING tyrant of the earth, To vileft flaves I owe my birth,

How is the greatest monarch bleft,
When in my gaudy liv'ry dreft!
No haughty nymph has pow'r to run
from me, or my embraces fhun.
Stabb'd to the heart, condemn'd to flame,
My conftancy is ftill the fame.
The favourite meffenger of Jove,
And Lemnian God, confulting ftrove
To make me glorious to the fight
Of mortals, and the gods' delight.
Soon would their altars' flame expire,
If I refus'd to lend them fire.

T

§ 227.

On a Corkscrew.
HOUGH I, alas! a prifoner be,
My trade is, prifoners to fet free.
No flave his lord's commands obeys
With fuch infinuating ways.

My genius piercing, fharp, and bright,
Wherein the men of wit delight.
The clergy keep me for their ease,
And turn and wind me as they please.
A new and wondrous art I fhew
Of railing fpirits from below;

In fcarlet fome, and fome in white:
They rife, walk round, yet never fright.
In at each mouth the fpirits pafs,
Diftin&tly feen as through a glass:
O'er head and body make a rout,
And drive at last all fecrets out:
And ftill, the more I fhew my art,
The more they open ev'ry heart.

A greater chemist none than I,
Who from materials hard and dry
Have taught men to extract with skill
More precious juice than from a still.

Although I'm often out of cafe, I'm not afham'd to thew my face. Though at the tables of the great I near the fide-board take my feat; Yet the plain 'fquire, when dinner's done, Is never pleas'd till I make one: He kindly bids me near him ftand; And often takes me by the hand. I twice a day a hunting go; Nor ever fail to feize my foe; And, when I have him by the pole, I drag him upwards from his hole; Though fome are of fo ftubborn kind, I'm forc'd to leave a limb behind. I hourly wait fome fatal end; For I can break, but fcorn to bend,

228. On a Circle.

I'M up and down, and round about,

Yet all the world can 't find me out. Though hundreds have employ'd their leisure, They never yet could find my measure. I'in found almoft in ev'ry garden, Nay, in the compafs of a farthing. There's neither chariot, coach, nor mill, Can move an inch, except I will.

I

§ 229. On Ink.

AM jet-black, as you may fee, The fon of pitch, and gloomy night • Yet all that know me will agree, I'm dead except I live in light. Sometimes in panegyric high, Like lofty Pindar, I can foar; And raife a virgin to the sky,

Or fink her to a pocky whore.

My blood this day is very sweet,

To-morrow of a bitter juice;
Like milk, 'tis cried about the Arect,
And fo applied to different ufc.
Moft wondrous is my magic pow'r ;

For with one colour I can paint;
I'll make the devil a faint this hour,
Next make a devil of a faint.
Through diftant regions I can fly,
Provide me but with paper wings;
And fairly fhew a reason why

There should be quarrels among kings. And, after all, you 'll think it odd,

When learned doctors will dispute, That I should point the word of God,

And fhew where they can beft confute, Let lawyers bawl and ftrain their throats: 'Tis I that must the lands convey, And trip the clients to their coats, Nay, give their very fouls away.

$230. On the Five Senfes.

ALL of us in one you'll find,

Brethren of a wondrous kind;
Yet among us all no brother
Knows one tittle of the other.
We in frequent councils are,
And our marks of things declare,
Where, to us, unknown, a clerk
Sits, and takes them in the dark.
He's the register of all

In our ken, both great and fmall;
By us forms his laws and rules ;
He's our mafter, we his tools;
Yet we can with greatest ease
Turn and wind him where we please.
One of us alone can fleep,
Yet no watch the reft will keep;
But the moment that he closes,
Ev'ry brother elfe repofes.

If wine's bought, or victuals dreft, One enjoys them for the rest.

Pierce us all with wounding steel, One for all of us will feel.

Though ten thousand cannons roar, Add to them ten thousand more, Yet but one of us is found Who regards the dreadful found.

Do what is not fit to tell, There's but one of us can smell.

NE

Pleafing moft when most 1 speak :
The delight of old and young,
Though I speak without a tongue.
Nought but one thing can confound me,
Many voices joining round me;
Then I fret, and rave, and gabble
Like the labourers of Babel.
Now I am a dog or cow,
I can bark, or I can low;
I can bleat, or I can fing
Like the warblers of the fpring.
Let the love-fick bard complain,
And I mourn the cruel pain;
Let the happy fwain rejoice,
And I join my helping voice;
Both are welcome, grief or joy,
I with either fport and toy.
Though a lady, I am stout,
Drums and trumpets bring me out;
Then I clath, and roar, and rattle,
Join in all the din of battle.

Jove, with all his loudeft thunder,
When I'm vex'd, can 't keep me under;
Yet fo tender is my ear,

That the loweft voice I fear.

Much I dread the courtier's fate,
When his merit 's out of date;
For I hate a filent breath,
And a whifper is my death.

BY

Y fomething form'd, I nothing am,
Yet ev'ry thing that you can name;
In no place have I ever been,
Yet ev'ry where I may be feen;
In all things falfe, yet always true,
I'm fill the fame-but ever new.
Lifelefs, life's perfect form I wear,
Can fhew a nofe, eye, tongue, or ear,
Yet neither fmell, fee, tafte, or hear.
All fhapes and features I can boast,
No flesh, no bones, no blood-no ghost:
All colours, without paint, put on,
And change like the cameleon.
Swiftly I come, and enter there
Where not a chink lets in the air;
Like thought, I'm in a moment gone,
Nor can I ever be alone;

All things on earth I imitate
Fafter than nature can create;

Sometimes imperial robes I wear,
Anon in beggar's rags appear;
A giant now, and straight an elf,
I'm ev'ry one, but ne'er myself;'
Ne'er fad, I mourn; ne'er glad, rejoice;
I move my lips, but want a voice;

I ne'er was born, nor e'er can dic:
Then pr'ytace tell me, what an I