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HORACE, B. II. ODE I. PARAPHRASED.
ADDRESSED TO RICHARD STEELE, ESQ. 1714.
"En qui promittit, cives, urbem sibi curæ,
Imperium fore, & Italiam, & delubra deorum."
Hor. I. Sat. vi. 34.
DICK, thou'rt resolv'd, as I am told,
Some strange arcana to unfold,
And, with the help of Buckley's pen,
To vamp the good old cause again:
Which thou (such Burnet's shrewd advice is)5
Must furbish up, and nickname Crisis.
Thou pompously wilt let us know
What all the world knew long ago,
(E'er since sir William Gore was mayor,
And Harley fill'd the commons' chair)10
That we a German prince must own,
When Anne for Heaven resigns her throne.
But, more than that, thou'lt keep a rout
With — who is in — and who is out;
Thou'lt rail devoutly at the peace,15
And all its secret causes trace,
The bucket-play 'twixt whigs and tories,
Their ups and downs, with fifty stories
Of tricks the lord of Oxford knows,
And errours of our plenipoes.20
Thou'lt tell of leagues among the great,
Portending ruin to our state;
And of that dreadful coup d'eclat,
Which has afforded thee much chat.
