"The dog-days are no more the cafe."
but Winter comes apace:
Then fouthward let your Bard retire,
Hold out fome Months 'twixt Sun and Fire, And you fhall fee the first warm Weather, Me and the Butterflies together.
My Lord, your Favours well I know; 'Tis with Distinction you bestow; And not to every one that comes, Juft as a Scotfman does his Plums. "Pray take them, Sir-Enough's a Feaft: "Eat fome, and pocket up the reft". What rob your Boys?, those pretty rogues! "No, Sir, you'll leave them to the Hogs." Thus Fools with Compliments besiege ye, Contriving never to oblige ye.
Quod fi bruma nives Albanis illinet agris; Ad mare defcendet vates tuus, et fibi parcet, Contractufque leget; te, dulcis amice, revifet Cum Zephyris, fi concedes, et hirundine prima. Non, quo more pyris vefci Calaber jubet hofpes. Tu me fecifti locupletem. Vefcere fødes. Jam fatis eft. At tu quantumvis tolle. Benigne. Non invifa feres pueris munufcula parvis. Tam teneor dono, quam fi dimittar onuftus. Ut libet: haec porcis hodie comedenda relinques. Prodigus et ftultus donat quae fpernit et odit:
And 'tis but juft, I'll tell you wherefore,
You give the things you never care for. A wife man always is or fhou'd Be mighty ready to do good;
But makes a difference in his thought Betwixt a Guinea and a Groat.
Now this I'll fay, you'll find in me A fafe Companion and a free; But if you'd have me always near-
A word, pray, in your Honour's ear. I hope it is your
To give me back my Conftitution!
Haec feges ingratos tulit et feret omnibus annis. Vir bonus et fapiens, dignis ait effe paratum! Nec tamen ignorat, quid distent aera lupinis ? Dignum praeftabo me, etiam pro laude merentis. Quod fi me noles ufquam difcedere; reddes Forte latus, nigros angufta fronte capillos: Reddes dulce loqui: reddes ridere decorum, et Inter vina fugam Cynarae moerere prótervae. Forte per anguftam tenuis vulpecula rimam Repferat in cumeram frumenti: paftaque, rurfus Ire foras pleno tendebat corpore frußra,
A Weazel once made fhift to flink In at a Corn-loft through a Chink ; But having amply ftuff'd his fkin, Could not get out as he got in; Which one belonging to the House ('Twas not a Man, it was a Mouse) Obferving, cry'd, "You 'fcape not fo, Lean as you came, Sir, you must go." Sir, you may spare your Application, I'm no fuch Beaft, nor his Relation; Nor one that Temperance advance, Cramm'd to the Throat with Ortolans: Extremely ready to refign
All that may make me none of mine. South-fea Subfcriptions take who please, Leave me but Liberty and Eafe.
'Twas what I faid to Craggs and Child, Who prais'd my Modefty, and fimil'd. Give me, I cry'd, (enough for me) My Bread, and Independency! So bought an Annual-rent or two,
Cui muftela procul, Si vis, ait, effugere iftine; Macra cavum repetes arctum, quem macra subisti. Hac ego fi compellar imagine, cunéta refigno; Nec fomnum plebis laudo fatur altilium, nec Otia divitiis Arabum liberrima muto. Saepe verecundum laudafti: Rexque, Paterque Audifti coram, nec verbo parcius abfens :
Near fifty, and without a Wife, I trust that Sinking Fund, my Life. Can I retrench? Yes, mighty well, Shrink back to my Paternal Cell, A little Houfe, with Trees a-row, And, like its Mafter, very low.
There dy'd my Father, no man's Debtor, And there I'll die, nor worfe nor better. To fet this matter full before ye,
Our old friend Swift will tell his Story. "Harley, the nation's great fupport-" But you may read it, I ftop fhort.
Infpice, fi poffum donata reponere laetus.
Parvum parva decent. mihi jam non regia Roma, Sed vacuum Tibur placet, aut imbelle Tarentum. Strenuus et fortis, caufifque Philippus agendis Clarus, &c.
The latter Part of SATIRE VI*.
O Charming Noons! and Nights divine! Or when I fup, or when I dine, My Friends above, my Folks below, Chatting and laughing all-a-row, The Beans and Bacon fet before 'em, The Grace-cup ferv'd with all decorum: Each willing to be pleas'd, and please, And even the very Dogs at ease!
Here no man prates of idle things, How this or that Italian fings,
A Neighbour's Madnefs, or his Spouse's, Or what's in either of the Houfes :
But fomething much more our concern, And quite a fcandal not to learn : Which is the happier, or the wiser, A man of Merit, or a Mifer?
O noctes coenaeque Deûm! quibus ipfe meique, Ante Larem proprium vefcor, vernasque procaces Pafco libatis dapibus: cum, ut cuique libido eft, Siccat inaequales calices conviva, folutus Legibus infanis: feu quis capit acria fortis Pocula; feu modicis uvescit laetius. ergo Sermo oritur, non de villis domibufve alienis, Nec male necne Lepos faltet: fed quod magis ad nos Pertinet, et nefcire malum eft, agitamus; utrumne
See the first part in Swift's Poems.
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