Poems on Several Occasions In Two Volumes. By Mr. Joseph Mitchell |
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To the Right Honourable JAMES CRAGGS, Esq;
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
216
To the Right Honourable JAMES CRAGGS, Esq;
One of His Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State in the Year 1720.
Craggs, who, by Merits of your own,
Have climb'd to Honour and Renown!
Great Arbiter of Wit and Sense!
The Muses Friend, and my Defence!
Sure in this strange Stock-jobbing Season,
You've neither lost, nor left, your Reason;
And, therefore, tho' the World to me
Appears as mad as it can be,
I too wou'd fain my Fortune try,
Since you've a Finger in the Pye.
Tis plain, there is some Charm, or other,
Else wise Folks wou'd not make a Pother
About Subscriptions, great and small,
And, in the crowded Ally bawl,
Like Brokers with no Brains at all.
But what's the Charm, and how to know it,
Remains a Mystery to your Poet;
And must, while ready Cash is scant—
—Unless your Honour say, I shant.
Not that I covet, or wou'd seem
A Parasite in your Esteem—
No living Soul cares less for Money;
And, tho' I'm poor, I scorn to fun ye.
Only, for Fashion's sake, or so,
I shou'd be glad the Charm to know;
And try if I too, quitting Rhimes,
Cou'd cut a Figure in these Times.
Have climb'd to Honour and Renown!
Great Arbiter of Wit and Sense!
The Muses Friend, and my Defence!
Sure in this strange Stock-jobbing Season,
You've neither lost, nor left, your Reason;
And, therefore, tho' the World to me
Appears as mad as it can be,
217
Since you've a Finger in the Pye.
Tis plain, there is some Charm, or other,
Else wise Folks wou'd not make a Pother
About Subscriptions, great and small,
And, in the crowded Ally bawl,
Like Brokers with no Brains at all.
But what's the Charm, and how to know it,
Remains a Mystery to your Poet;
And must, while ready Cash is scant—
—Unless your Honour say, I shant.
Not that I covet, or wou'd seem
A Parasite in your Esteem—
No living Soul cares less for Money;
And, tho' I'm poor, I scorn to fun ye.
Only, for Fashion's sake, or so,
I shou'd be glad the Charm to know;
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Cou'd cut a Figure in these Times.
But shou'd you leave it to my Muse
To name the Company I chuse,
I'm such a Novice in the Ally,
That, meditating Shilly, shally,
Your Honour's Patience wou'd be tir'd,
Ere I cou'd tell what I desir'd.
Sometimes, I like the South-Sea best;
Sometimes, believe it all a Jest.
To-Day, Welsh-Copper's my Delight;
To-Morrow, it appears a Bite.
By Turns, York-buildings, Chelsea-water,
And River Douglas, move my Satire.
The Indian, African, and so forth,
Now please, and then seem Things of no Worth.
In short, from Stocks at Cent per Cent,
To Stock, whereon no Money's lent,
(So apt my Humour is to rove)
I know not which to hate, or love.
Then may it please you, Sir, to say
What I must have, in your own Way—
And your Petitioner shall Pray.
To name the Company I chuse,
I'm such a Novice in the Ally,
That, meditating Shilly, shally,
Your Honour's Patience wou'd be tir'd,
Ere I cou'd tell what I desir'd.
Sometimes, I like the South-Sea best;
Sometimes, believe it all a Jest.
To-Day, Welsh-Copper's my Delight;
To-Morrow, it appears a Bite.
By Turns, York-buildings, Chelsea-water,
And River Douglas, move my Satire.
The Indian, African, and so forth,
Now please, and then seem Things of no Worth.
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To Stock, whereon no Money's lent,
(So apt my Humour is to rove)
I know not which to hate, or love.
Then may it please you, Sir, to say
What I must have, in your own Way—
And your Petitioner shall Pray.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |