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Shall half the r new-built churches round thee fall?

Make Keys, build Bridges, or repair Whitehall:
Or to thy Country let that heap be lent,

As M**o's was, but not at five per cent.

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Who thinks that fortune cannot change her mind, Prepares a dreadful jeft for all mankind. And who ftands fafeft? tell me, is it he That fpreads and fwells in puff'd Prosperity, Or bleft with little, whofe preventing care In peace provides fit arms against a war?

u Thus BETHEL fpoke, who always fpeaks his thought,

And always thinks the very thing he ought:
His equal mind I copy what I can,

And as I love, would imitate the Man.

In South-fea days not happier, when furmis'd

The Lord of thousands, than if now w Excis'd;
In forest planted by a Father's hand,

Than in five acres now of rented land.

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Content

O magnus pofthac inimicis rifus: uterne
↑ Ad cafus dubios fidet fibi certius! hic, qui
Pluribus affuêrit mentem corpufque fuperbum;
An qui contentus parvo metuenfque futuri,
In pace, ut fapiens, aptarit idonea bello!

Quo magis his credas: puer hunc ego parvus Ofellum

Integris opibus novi non latius ufum,

Quam nunc accifis. Videas, metato in agello,
Cum pecore et gnatis, fortem mercede colonum,
Non ego, narrantem, temere edi luce profefta

Content with little I can piddle here

On brocoli and mutton, round the year;
But y ancient friends (though poor, or out of play)
That touch my bell, I cannot turn away.
'Tis true, no Turbots dignify my boards,

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But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames affords :
To Hounflow-heath I point, and Banfted-down,
Thence comes your mutton, and thefe chicks my own:
a From yon old walnut-tree a fhower fhall fall:
And grapes, long-lingering on my only wall,
And figs from standard and espalier join ;

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Then b chearful healths (your Mistress fhall have place)

The devil is in you if you cannot dine:

And, what's more rare, a Poet fhall fay Grace.

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Fortune not much of humbling me can boaft:

Though double tax'd, how little have I loft!

My

Quidquam, praeter x olus fumofae cum pede pernae.
Ac mihi feu y longum poft tempus venerat hofpes,
Sive operum vacuo gratus conviva per imbrem
Vicinus ; bene erat, non pifcibus urbe petitis,
Sed pullo atque hoedo: tum z penfilis uva fecundas
Et nux ornabat menfas, cum duplice ficu.
Poft hoc ludus erat a cuppa potare magistra:
Ac venerata Ceres, ita culmo furgeret alto,
Explicuit vino contractae feria frontis.

Saeviat atque novos moveat Fortuna tumultus !

Quantum hinc imminuet? quanto aut ego parcius, aut

Vos,

My Life's amusements have been just the same,
Before, and after Standing Armies came.
My lands are fold, my father's house is gone;
I'll hire another's; is not that my own,

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And yours, my friends? thro' whofe free opening gate
None comes too early, none departs too late;

(For I, who hold fage Homer's rule the best,
Welcome the coming, fpeed the going guest.)
"Pray heaven it laft! (cries Swift!) as you go on;
"I wish to God this houfe had been your own:
"Pity! to build, without a fon or wife;
"Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life."
Well, if the use be mine, can it concern one,
Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon ?
What's Property? dear Swift! you fee it alter
From you to me, from me to Peter Walter ;

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Or, in a mortgage, prove a Lawyer's share;
Or, in a jointure, vanish from the heir;

Or in pure f equity (the cafe not clear)

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The Chancery takes your rents for twenty year:
At beft, it falls to fome g ungracious fon,

Who cries, "My father's damn'd, and all's my own."

Shades,

O pueri, nituiftis, ut huc b novus incola venit?
Nam propriae telluris herum natura neque illum,
Nec me, nec quemquam ftatuit. nos expulit ille;
Illum aut nequities aut e vafri infcitia juris,
Poftremum expellet certe f vivacior heres.
g Nunc ager Umbreni fub nomine, nuper Ofelli
Dictus erat: nulli proprius; fed cedit in ufum

h Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford,
Become the portion of a booby Lord;

And Hemfley, once proud Buckingham's delight,
Slides to a Scrivener, or a City Knight,

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i Let lands and houses have what lords they will,

Let Us be fix'd, and our own mafters ftill.

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Nunc mihi, nunc alii, quocirca vivite fortes,
Fortiaque adverfis opponite pectora rebus.

BOOK I.

EPISTLE I.

TO LORD BOLINGBROKE.

ST. JOHN, whofe love indulg'd my labours paft,

Matures my prefent, and shall bound my last!
Why b will you break the Sabbath of my days?
Now fick alike of Envy and of Praife.
Public too long, ah let me hide my Age!
See modeft Cibber now has left the Stage:
Our Generals now, d retir'd to their Eftates,
Hang their Old Trophies o'er the Garden gates,
In Life's cool Evening fatiate of Applause,

Nore fond of bleeding, ev'n in BRUNSWICK's cause. f A voice there is, that whispers in my ear,

5

('Tis Reason's voice, which fometimes one can hear) "Friend Pope! be prudent, let your s Mufe take "breath,

"And never gallop Pegasus to death;

EPISTOLA I.

PRIMA dicte mihi, fumma dicende camena,

Spectatum fatis, et donatum jam rude, quaeris,

Maecenas, iterum antiquo me includere ludo.
Non eadem eft aetas, non mens. c Veianius, armis
d Herculis ad poftem fixis, latet abditus agro;
Ne populum e extrema toties exoret arena.

f Eft mihi purgatam crebro qui perfonet aurem ; Solve & fenefcentem mature fanus equum, ne

Let

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