And here, while Town, and Court, and City, roars, With mobs, and duns, and soldiers at their doors, Shall I in London act this idle part, Composing songs for fools to get by heart? The Temple late two brother Sergeants saw, 125 131 One lull'd th' Exchequer, and one stunn'd the Rolls; Your's Milton's genius, and mine Homer's spirit. 136 Walk with respect behind, while we at ease 140 Weave laurel crowns, and take what names we please. "My dear Tibullus!" if that will not do, "Let me be Horace, and be Ovid you : "Or, I'm content, allow me Dryden's strains, 145 This jealous, waspish, wrong-head, rhyming race; And much must flatter, if the whim should bite, 150 They treat themselves with most profound respect: 'Tis to small purpose that you hold your tongue, 155 Each prais'd within is happy all day long: But how severely with themselves proceed The men who write such verse as we can read? Nay, tho' at Court [perhaps] it may find grace: Mark where a bold expressive phrase appears, 165 Bright thro' the rubbish of some hundred years; Command old words that long have slept to wake, Words that wise Bacon or brave Rawleigh spake ; Or bid the new be English ages hence, (For Use will father what's begot by Sense ;) Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong, 170 } Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine, Then polish all with so much life and ease, 175 You think 'tis Nature, and a knack to please: And much too wise to walk into a well. 185 190 Him the damn'd doctors and his friends immur'd, They bled, they cupp'd, they purg'd; in short, they Whereat the gentleman began to stare [cur'd: "My friends! [he cry'd] p-x take you for your care! That from a patriot of distinguish'd note Have bled and purg'd me to a simple vote." 196 Well, on the whole, plain prose must be my fate! Wisdom [curse on it!] will come soon or late. There is a time when poets will grow dull; I'll learn to smooth and harmonize my mind, 200 205 210 If, when the more you drink the more you crave, You tell the doctor; when the more you have The more you want, why not, with equal ease, 215 The heart resolves this matter in a trice; When golden angels cease to cure the evil, You give all royal witchcraft to the devil: When servile chaplains cry that birth and place 220 Endue a peer with honour, truth, and grace, Look in that breast, most dirty Dean! be fair, Say, can you find out one such lodger there? Yet still, not heeding what your heart can teach, You go to church to hear these flatt'rers preach. 225 Indeed could wealth bestow or wit or merit, If there be truth in law, and use can give 230 235 Heathcote himself, and such large-acred men, 240 Lords of fat E'sham, or of Lincoln-Fen, Buy ev'ry stick of wood that lends them heat, Buy ev'ry pullet they afford to eat. Yet these are wights who fondly call their own Half that the devil o'erlooks from Lincoln town. 245 The laws of God, as well as of the land, Abhor a perpetuity should stand: Estates have wings, and hang in Fortune's pow'r, Ready by force, or of your own accord, By sale, at least by death, to change their lord. 250 |