There--but 'tis endless to write down
All the amusements of the town;
And spouse will think herself quite undone,
To trudge to Connor[4] from sweet London;
And care we must our wives to please,
Or else--we shall be ill at ease.
You see, my lord, what 'tis I lack,
'Tis only some convenient tack,
Some parsonage-house with garden sweet,
To be my late, my last retreat;
A decent church, close by its side,
There, preaching, praying, to reside;
And as my time securely rolls,
To save my own and other souls.
[Footnote 1: This piece is repeatedly and always satirically alluded to
in the preceding poems.--_Scott_.]
[Footnote 2: The name of the Duke's seat in Suffolk.--_N._]
[Footnote 3: Bishop Sterne.--_H._]
[Footnote 4: The bishopric of Connor is united to that of Down; but there
are two deans.--_Scott_.]
THE DUKE'S ANSWER
BY DR. SWIFT
Dear Smed, I read thy brilliant lines,
Where wit in all its glory shines;
Where compliments, with all their pride,
Are by their numbers dignified:
I hope to make you yet as clean
As that same Viz, St. Patrick's dean.
I'll give thee surplice, verge, and stall,
And may be something else withal;
And, were you not so good a writer,
I should present you with a mitre.
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