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THUS Gay, the bare * with many friends,
Twice feven long years the court attends:
Who under tales conveying truth,
To virtue form'd a princely youth † :
Who paid his courtship with the croud
As far as modeft pride allow'd;
Rejects a fervile usher's place,
And leaves St James's in difgrace‡.

THUS Addison || by lords carefs'd,
Was left in foreign lands distress'd;
Forgot at home, became for hire
A trav'ling tutor to a 'squire :
But wifely left the muses hill,
To bus'nefs fhap'd the poet's quill.
Let all his barren laurels fade,
Took

up himself the courtier's trade,

And grown a minister of flate,

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Whatever Grecian story tells;

Whofe filial piety excels

A genius for all stations fit,

Whose meanest talent is his wit;

His heart too great, tho' fortune little,

To lick a rascal fitatesman's spittle ;

VOL. VI.

See his fables.

Ff

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+ His Royal Highness William Duke of Cumberland, fecond fon of K. George II.

For fome account of this, fee Letters to and from Dr Swift,

in vol. iv. let. 27.

See a criticism on Swift's profe works, prefixed to vol. 1.

Appealing to the nation's tafte,

Above the reach of want is plac'd:

By Homer dead was taught to thrive,
Which Homer never could alive:
And fits aloft on Pindus' head,
Defpifing faves that cringe for bread.

TRUE politicians only pay
For folid work, but not for play;
Nor ever chufe to work with tools
Forg'd up in colleges and schools.
Confider how much more is due
To all their journymen, than you:
At table you can Horace quote';
They at a pinch can bribe a vote :
You fhew your skill in Grecian story;
But they can manage Whig and Tory:
You, as a critic, are fo curious
To find a verse in Virgil fpurious;
But they can smoke the deep defigns,
When Bolingbroke with Pultney dines.
BESIDES, your patron may upbraid ye,
That you have got a place already;
An office for your talents fit,

wit;

To fatter, carve, and shew your
To fnuff the lights, and ftir the fire,
And get a dinner for your hire..

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What claim have you to place or pension?
He overpays in condefcenfion.

BUT, Rev'rend Doctor, you we know
Could never condefcend fo low;
The viceroy, whom you now attend,
Would, if he durft, be more your friend;
Nor will in you thofe gifts defpife,

By which himself was taught to rise :
When he has virtue to retire,

He'll grieve he did not raise you higher,

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To make them work their own undoing.
What has he else to bait his traps,

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For keep him in, or turn him out,
His learning none will call in doubt;
His learning, tho' a poet said it

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Before a play, would lofe no credit ;
Nor Pope would dare deny him wit,
Altho' to praise it Phillips writ.
I own he hates an action base,

His virtues battling with his place;
Nor wants a nice difcerning fpirit
Betwixt a true and fpurious merit;
Can fometimes drop a voter's claim,
And give up party to his fame.
I do the most that friendship can;
I hate the viceroy, love the man.

BUT you, who till your fortune's made,

Muft be a sweetner by your trade,

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Should fwear he never meant us ill;
We fuffer fore against his will;
That if we could but fee his heart,
He would have chose a milder part:
We rather should lament his case,

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Whofe thoughts are of a diff 'rent mould,
Who from my foul fincerely hate

Both k-and minifters of flate,

Who look on courts with stricter eyes

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To fee the feeds of vice arife,

Can lend you an allufion fitter,

Tho' flatt'ring knaves may call it bitter z
Which, if you durft but give it place,
Would fhew you many a statesman's face :
Fresh from the tripod of Apollo

I had it in the words that follow:
(Take notice, to avoid offence,
I here except bis Excellence).

"So, to effect his monarch's ends, "From bell a viceroy devil afcends ;

So when an angel by divine command.

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Addifen's Campaign.

His budget with corruptions cramm'd, "The contributions of the damn'd; "Which with unsparing hand he ftrows “Thro' courts and senates as he goes ; "And then at Belzebub's black ball,

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Complains his budget was too fmall."
YOUR fimile may better shine

In verfe; but there is truth in mine;
For no imaginable things

Can differ more than gods and k-
And statesmen by ten thousand odds
Are angels just as k-s are gods.

S:

1900

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To JANUS, on NEW-YEAR'S-DAY.

TWO

Written in the year 1729

WO-fac'd Janus, god of time!
Be my Phoebus while I rhyme:
To oblige your crony Swift,
Bring our dame a new year's-gift:
She has got but half a face;
Janus, fince thou haft a brace,
To my Lady once be kind;
Give her half thy face behind..

God of time, if you be wife,
Look not with your future eyes::
What imports thy forward fight?
Well, if you could lofe it quite.
Can you take delight in viewing
This poor ifle's approaching ruia,
When thy retrospection vaft-
Sees the glorious ages past ?

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HAPPY nation! were we blind, Or had only eyes behind.

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