The man's proficient in his trade;
His pow'r is strong, his fortune's made.,
By that the int'rest of the throne
Is made subservient to his own;
By that have kings of old, deluded,
All their own friends for his excluded.
By that, his selfish schemes pursuing,
He thrives upon the public ruin.
Antiochus, with hardy pace,
Provok'd the dangers of the chase,
And, lost from all his menial train,
Travers'd the wood and pathless plain.
A cottage lodg'd the royal guest;
The Parthian clown brought forth his best.
The king, unknown, his feast enjoy'd,
And various chat the hours employ'd.
From wine what sudden friendship springs!
Frankly they talked of courts and kings..
'We country folks,' the clown replies,
'Could ope our gracious monarch's eyes.
The king (as all our neighbours say)
Might he (God bless him!) have his way,
Is sound at heart, and means our good,
And he would do it if he could.
If truth in courts were not forbid,
Nor kings nor subjects would be rid.
Were he in pow'r we need not doubt him :"
But that transferr'd to those about him,
On them he throws the regal cares:
And what mind they? Their own affairs.
If such rapacious hands he trust,
The best of men may seem unjust.
From kings to cobblers 'tis the same:
Bad servants wound their master's fame.
In this our neighbours all agree:
Would the king knew as much as we:'
Here he stopp'd short. Repose they sought,
The peasant slept, the monarch thought.
The courtiers learn'd, at early dawn,
Where their lost sovereign was withdrawn.
The guards' approach our host alarms;
With gaudy coats the cottage swarms.
163233
The crown and purple robes they bring,
And prostrate fall before the king.
The clown was call'd, the royal guest
By due reward his thanks express'd.
The king then, turning to the crowd,
Who fawningly before him bow'd,
Thus spoke: 'Since bent on private gain,
Your counsels first misled my reign,
Taught and inform'd by you alone,
No truth the royal ear hath known,
Till here conversing. Hence, ye crew!
For now I know myself and you.'
Whene'er the royal ear's engross'd,
State lies but little genius cost.
The fav'rite then securely robs,
And gleans a nation by his jobs.
Franker and bolder grown in ill,
He daily poisons dares instil,
And as his present views suggest,
Inflames or soothes the royal breast.
Thus wicked ministers oppress,
When oft the monarch means redress.
Would kings their private subjects hear,
A minister must talk with fear.
If honesty oppos'd his views,
He dare not innocence accuse.
'Twould keep him in such narrow bound,
He could not right and wrong confound.
Happy were kings, conld they disclose
Their real friends, and real foes!
Were both themselves and subjects known,
A monarch's will might be his own.
Had he the use of ears and eyes,
Knaves would no more be counted wise;
But then a minister might lose
(Hard case!) his own ambitious views.
When such as these have vex'd a state,
Pursu'd by universal hate,
The false support at once hath fail'd,
And persevering truth prevail'd.
Expos'd, their train of fraud is seen;
Truth will at least remove the screen.
A country 'Squire, by whim directed,
The true, staunch dogs of chase neglected.
Beneath his board no hound was fed;
His hand ne'er strok'd the spaniel's head.
A snappish Cur, alone caress'd,
By lies had banish'd all the rest.
Yap had his ear; and defamation
Gave him full scope of conversation.
His sycophants must be preferr'd,
Room must be made for all his herd:
Wherefore, to bring his schemes about,
Old faithful servants all must out.
The Cur on ev'ry creature flew
(As other great men's puppies do),
Unless due court to him were shewn,
And both their face and bus'ness known.
No honest tongue an audience found:
He worried all the tenants round:
For why? he liv'd in constant fear,
Lest truth, by chance, should interfere.
If any stranger dar'd intrude,
The noisy Cur his heels pursu'd.
Now fierce with rage, now struck with dread,
At once he snarled, bit and fled,
Aloof he bays, with bristling hair,
And thus in secret growls his fear:
'Who knows but truth in this disguise,
May frustrate my best guarded lies?
Should she, thus mask'd, admittance find,
That very hour my ruin 's sign'd.'
Now in his howl's continu'd sound
Their words were lost, the voice was drown'd.
Ever in awe of honest tongues,
Thus ev'ry day he strain'd his lungs.
It happen'd, in ill-omen'd hour,
That Yap, unmindful of his pow'r,
Forsook his post, to love inclin'd;
A fav'rite bitch was in the wind;
By her seduc'd, in am'rous play
They frisked the joyous hours away;
Thus, by untimely love pursuing,
Like Antony he sought his ruin.
For now the 'Squire, unvex'd with noise,
An honest neighhour's chat enjoys.
'Belfree,' says he,' your mind impart;
I love a friendly open heart.
Methinks my tenants shun my gate;
Why such a stranger grown of late?
Pray tell me what offence they find;
'Tis plain they're not so well inclin'd.'
'Turn off your Cur,' the farmer cries,
'Who feeds your ear with daily lies.
His snarling insolence offends:
'Tis he that keeps you from your friends.
Were but that saucy puppy check'd,
You'd find again the same respect.
Hear only him, he'll swear it too,
That all our hatred is to you:
But learn from us your true estate;
'Tis that curs'd Cur alone we hate.
The 'Squire heard truth. Now Yap rush'd in; The wide hall echoes with his din:
Yet truth prevail'd; and with disgrace,
The dog was cudgell'd out of place.
The Countryman and Jupiter.
To myself.
HAVE you a friend (look round and spy)
So fond, so prepossess'd as I?
Your faults, so obvious to mankind,
My partial eyes could never find.
When by the breath of Fortune blown,
Your airy castles were o'erthrown ;
Have I been over-prone to blame,
Or mortify your hours with shame?
Was I e'er known to damp your spirit,
Or twit you with the want of merit?
'Tis not so strange, that Fortune's frown
Still perseveres to keep you down.
Look round, and see what others do.
Would you be rich and honest too?
Have you, like those she rais'd to place,
Been opportunely mean and base?
Have you, as times requir'd, resign'd
Truth, honour, virtue, peace of mind?
If these are scruples, give her o'er,
Write, practise morals, and be poor.
The gifts of Fortune truly rate;
Then tell me what would mend your state.
If happiness on wealth were built,
Rich rogues might comfort find in guilt;
As grows the miser's hoarded store,
His fears, his wants, increase the more.
Think, Gay (what ne'er may be the case),
Should Fortune take you into grace,
Would that your happiness augment?
What can she give beyond content?
Suppose yourself a wealthy heir,
With a vast annual income clear!
In all the affluence you possess,
You might not feel one care the less.
Might you not then, like others, find,
With change of fortune, change of mind?
Perhaps, profuse beyond all rule,
You might start out a glaring fool;
Your luxury might break all bounds;
Plate, table, horses, stewards, hounds,
Might swell your debts; then, lust of play
No regal income can defray.
Sunk is all credit, writs assail,
And doom your future life to jail.
Or, were you dignify'd with pow'r,
Would that avert one pensive hour?
You might give Avarice its swing,
Defraud a nation, blind a king:
Then from the hirelings in your cause,
Though daily fed with false applause,
Could it a real joy impart?-
Great guilt knew never joy at heart.
Is happiness your point in view?
(I mean th' intrinsic and the true)
She nor in camps or courts resides,
Nor in the humble cottage hides:
|