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 AUTHOR UPON HIMSELF. 1713.

(A few of the first lines are wanting.)

By an old

*

*

*

*

pursued,

A crazy prelate, and a royal prude;3
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;
Humor and mirth had place in all he writ;

He reconciled divinity and wit:

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

Nor show'd the parson in his gait or face;

The lord-treasurer's porter.

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 February 2, 1712-13.

3 Queen Anne.

Despised luxurious wines and costly meat;
Yet still was at the tables of the great;
Frequented lords; saw those that saw the queen;
At Child's or Truby's,' 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 favor grows with ministers of statę;
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 Aislabie, to clear the doubt,
Inform the commons that the secret's out
"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 show 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,5 and repents too late.
Now angry Somerset her vengeance vows
spouse:

On Swift's reproaches for her *******
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.7

Coffeehouses frequented by the clergy.

Daniel Finch, earl of Nottingham.

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

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.

Now through the realm a proclamation spread,
To fix a price on his devoted head.1
While innocent, he scorns ignoble flight;
His watchful friends preserve him by a sleight.
By Harley's favor 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;

t

And in Swift's ears thrusts half his powder'd nose.
The Scottish nation, whom he durst offend,
Again apply that Swift would be their friend.3
By faction tired, with grief he waits awhile,

His great contending friends to reconcile;
Performs what friendship, justice, truth require:
What could he more, but decently retire?

THE FAGOT.

WRITTEN WHEN THE MINISTRY WERE AT VARIANCE.

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 fagot:
In vain; the complicated wands

Were much too strong for all their hands.
See, said the sire, how soon 'tis done;
Then took and broke them one by one.
So strong you'll be, in friendship tied;
So quickly broke, if you divide.
Keep close then, boys, and never quarrel:
Here ends the fable and the moral.

1

This tale may be applied in few words,
To treasurers, comptrollers, stewards;
And others, who, in solemn sort,
Appear with slender wands at court;
Not firmly join'd to keep their ground,
But lashing one another round:

While wise men think they ought to fight
With quarterstaffs instead of white;
Or constable, with staff of peace,

Should come and make the clattering cease;
Which now disturbs the queen and court,
And gives the Whigs and rabble sport.

For writing "The Public Spirit of the Whigs."

2 Then lord-treasurer of the household.

Despised luxurious wines and costly meat;
Yet still was at the tables of the great;
Frequented lords; saw those that saw the queen;
At Child's or Truby's,' 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 favor 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 Finch2 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 Aislabie, to clear the doubt,
Inform the commons that the secret's out
"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 show 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 *******
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.7

Coffeehouses frequented by the clergy.

"Daniel Finch, earl of Nottingham.

spouse:

6

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

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.

Now through the realm a proclamation spread,
To fix a price on his devoted head.1

While innocent, he scorns ignoble flight;
His watchful friends preserve him by a sleight.
By Harley's favor 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;

१

And in Swift's ears thrusts half his powder'd nose.
The Scottish nation, whom he durst offend,
Again apply that Swift would be their friend.3
By faction tired, with grief he waits awhile,

His great contending friends to reconcile;
Performs what friendship, justice, truth require:
What could he more, but decently retire?

THE FAGOT.

WRITTEN WHEN THE MINISTRY WERE AT VARIANCE.

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 fagot:
In vain; the complicated wands

Were much too strong for all their hands.
See, said the sire, how soon 'tis done;
Then took and broke them one by one.
So strong you'll be, in friendship tied;
So quickly broke, if you divide.
Keep close then, boys, and never quarrel:
Here ends the fable and the moral.

This tale may be applied in few words,
To treasurers, comptrollers, stewards;
And others, who, in solemn sort,
Appear with slender wands at court;
Not firmly join'd to keep their ground,
But lashing one another round:

While wise men think they ought to fight
With quarterstaffs instead of white;
Or constable, with staff of peace,

Should come and make the clattering cease;
Which now disturbs the queen and court,
And gives the Whigs and rabble sport.

For writing "The Public Spirit of the Whigs." 2 Then lord-treasurer of the household.