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.
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