Now this I'll say, you'll find in me A safe companion, and a free; 40 But if you'd have me always near-- A word, pray, in your honour's ear. I hope it is your resolution To give me back my constitution! The sprightly wit, the lively eye, Th' engaging smile, the gaiety, That laugh'd down many a summer sun, And kept you up so oft till one: And all that voluntary vein, As when Belinda[168] raised my strain. 50 A weasel once made shift to slink In at a corn-loft through a chink; But having amply stuff'd his skin, Could not get out as he got in: Which one belonging to the house ('Twas not a man, it was a mouse) Observing, cried, 'You 'scape not so; Lean as you came, sir, you must go.' Sir, you may spare your application, I'm no such beast, nor his relation; 60 Nor one that temperance advance, Cramm'd to the throat with ortolans: Extremely ready to resign All that may make me none of mine. South-Sea subscriptions take who please, Leave me but liberty and ease. 'Twas what I said to Craggs and Child, Who praised my modesty, and smiled. Give me, I cried, (enough for me) My bread, and independency! 70 So bought an annual rent or two, And lived--just as you see I do; 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 house, with trees a-row, And, like its master, very low. There died my father, no man's debtor, And there I'll die, nor worse, nor better. 80 To set this matter full before ye, Our old friend Swift will tell his story. 'Harley, the nation's great support'-- But you may read it,--I stop short. * * * * * BOOK II. SATIRE VI. THE FIRST PART IMITATED IN THE YEAR 1714, BY DR SWIFT; THE LATTER PART ADDED AFTERWARDS. I've often wish'd that I had clear, For life, six hundred pounds a-year, A handsome house to lodge a friend, A river at my garden's end, A terrace-walk, and half a rood Of land, set out to plant a wood. Well, now I have all this and more, I ask not to increase my store; But here a grievance seems to lie, All this is mine but till I die; 10 I can't but think 'twould sound more clever, To me and to my heirs for ever. If I ne'er got or lost a groat, By any trick, or any fault; And if I pray by reason's rules, And not like forty other fools: As thus, 'Vouchsafe, O gracious Maker! To grant me this and t' other acre: Or, if it be thy will and pleasure, Direct my plough to find a treasure:' 20 But only what my station fits, And to be kept in my right wits. Preserve, Almighty Providence! Just what you gave me, competence: And let me in these shades compose Something in verse as true as prose; Removed from all the ambitious scene, Nor puff'd by pride, nor sunk by spleen.