Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/252

 Proud! that at once I can commend King George's and the Muses' friend! Endear'd to Britain; and to thee (Disjoin'd, Hibernia, by the sea) Endear'd by twice three anxious years, Employ'd in guardian toils and cares; By love, by wisdom, and by skill; For he has sav'd thee 'gainst thy will. But where shall Smedley make his nest, And lay his wandering head to rest? Where shall he find a decent house, To treat his friends, and cheer his spouse? O! tack, my lord, some pretty cure; In wholesome soil, and ether pure; The garden stor'd with artless flowers, In either angle shady bowers. No gay parterre, with costly green, Within the ambient hedge be seen: Let Nature freely take her course, Nor fear from me ungrateful force; No sheers shall check her sprouting vigour, Nor shape the yews to antick figure: A limpid brook shall trout supply, In May, to take the mimick fly; Round a small orchard may it run, Whose apples redden to the sun. Let all be snug, and warm, and neat; For fifty turn'd a safe retreat. A little Euston may it be, Euston I'll carve on every tree. But then, to keep it in repair, My lord — twice fifty pounds a year