Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

O how happy shall I be,
If, indulg'd by Heav'n and Thee,
I, commission'd, may appear
At the Lottery of this Year!
If my Art cou'd ever hit
Taste, like Thine—If I have Wit—
If there's Virtue in my Mind—
If my Works are well design'd—
If I'm worth a SINE-CURE—
All the MUSES Thee conjure,
By the BATH, an Order blest!
By Thy Self, of Knights confest
Most deserving, honour'd most,
Europe's Wonder, Britain's Boast!
As Thou lov'st, or pity'st, Me,
WALPOLE, speak, and It shall be.

With what Majesty and Grace
Mitchell then wou'd shew his Face!
How he'd dignify the Chair!
How preserve Decorum There!
Be inspir'd with nobler Flame!
Rival Pope in Verse and Fame!
Pay his Debts! appear at Court!
Rise to Place, and thank Thee for't.

But, if that Commission's full,
If thou can'st not make One null,
If his Muse too late apply'd,
If there's any Cause beside
For a Disappointment, yet
Mitchell scorns to be in Pet,

Or Despair, while Place remains
Unsupply'd, and worth his Pains.

One there is—but, gracious Heav'n,
May I seek, and be forgiv'n?
WALPOLE's merciful; and I,
Tho' my Hopes are low, may try.
Never venture, never win,
Says the Proverb—Muse, begin:

Since, for Custom, Law, or Conscience,
(Or, for any Cause, but Nonsense)
One of Rank and high Degree
(Such as I'd be glad to be)
Once a Year is order'd North,
To convene our Holders-forth,

And to speech it for the King,
And to hear Them Pray and Sing;
Hear them preach, and hear them prate,
Hear them quibble and debate,
With religious Tone and Eyes,
Very learned, most precise,
Wond'rous eloquent and wise!
May not I, O WALPOLE, stand
Candidate?—The Time's at Hand:
Men and Brethren meet in May,
Danger lies in long Delay;
And your Honour knows that I
Must equip, and cannot fly.

As I'm orthodox true Blue,
And a clever Fellow too;

From the Cradle nurs'd and bred
More to lead, than to be led;
Yet, because I'm all bemus'd,
By the Presbytery refus'd;
But as fit as any Priest,
Cromwell-like, to cant, at least;
Please to put me in the Place—
Lift your Poet to his Grace—
That, as Horace struck the Sky,
I may, stately strutting by,
Numerous pointed Fingers see,
All in Wonderment at Me!
And the Hum of Thousands hear
Fraught with my Encomiums dear!
Mix'd with thine, my worthy Knight,
My Mæcenas, my Delight!

Be it so—Amen, say I—
See! I'm now prepar'd! I fly!
I've already got half Way!
Clear the Coast, ye Men of Clay—
Kindred Souls, come out, and meet me—
Countrymen, be glad, and greet me—
Io Pæan, cordial, sing—
Mitchell represents the KING!

Now, methinks, I see my self
(What Conceit inspires an Elf?)
Thron'd within an Elbow Chair,
Full of Majesty and Care;
And, below, the Kirkmen pent,
Full of Grace and Government!

Elders, Ministers, and People,
From grave Paunch and holy Weep-well,
Down to precious Leer and Whine,
Rev'rend all, and all Divine!
Moderator at their Head,
Powder'd much, and Sage, indeed!
Zeal and Spittle in his Mouth!
Language heav'nly, tho' uncouth!
Charitable all, and civil!
Strong against the Pope and Devil!
Mighty true to GEORGE and Thee!
Wond'rous complaisant to Me!
Buried Disputations past,
Reconcil'd and just, at last!
B---al---n---n Himself, grown mild,
Fawning, cringing, like a Child,

Owning Verse may be of Use,
And the Stage without Abuse!
Wish---rt, Fl---nt, M---cl---n, H---rt,
Strange to hear it! take my Part:
Ready, wer't not vain, to creep
To bring Home the banish'd Sheep—
Not to guide him, like a Lamb,
But observe him, as a Ram.

Lucky Chance in lucky Time,
Lucky Suit in lucky Rhime,
Thou of Patrons ever best,
I of Poets most carest,
Shou'd my Projects but succeed!
Shoud'st thou say the Word indeed!

WALPOLE, thus, in various Strain,
Have I pray'd, and pray'd again,

Studious to make Thee my Friend,
And be happy in the End.
Isaac wanted thus to eat,
Ere he dy'd, of savoury Meat.
He was bit—but Heav'n forbid
I should take a Calf for Kid.