| |
| IF I live to be old, for I find I go down, | |
| Let this be my fate: In a country town, | |
| May I have a warm house, with a stone at the gate, | |
| And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate. | |
| Chorus. May I govern my passion with an absolute sway, | 5 |
| And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away, | |
| Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay. | |
| |
| May my little house stand on the side of a hill, | |
| With an easy descent to a mead and a mill, | |
| That when I’ve a mind I may hear my boy read, | 10 |
In the mill if it rains, if it’s dry in the mead.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| Near a shady grove, and a murmuring brook, | |
| With the ocean at distance, whereon I may look, | |
| With a spacious plain, without hedge or stile, | |
And an easy pad-hag to ride out a mile.
May I govern, etc. | 15 |
| |
| With Horace and Petrarch, and two or three more | |
| Of the best wits that reign’d in the ages before; | |
| With roast mutton, rather than ven’son or teal, | |
And clean tho’ coarse linen at every meal.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| With a pudding on Sundays, with stout humming liquor, | 20 |
| And remnants of Latin to welcome the Vicar, | |
| With Monte-Fiascone or Burgundy wine, | |
To drink to the King’s health as oft as I dine.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| May my wine be vermillion, may my malt-drink be pale, | |
| In neither extreme, or too mild or too stale; | 25 |
| In lieu of deserts, unwholesome and dear, | |
Let Lodi or Parmisan bring up the rear.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| Nor Tory, or Whig, Observator or Trimmer | |
| May I be, nor against the law’s torrent a swimmer. | |
| May I mind what I speak, what I write, and hear read, | 30 |
But with matters of State never trouble my head.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| Let the Gods who dispose of every king’s crown, | |
| Whom soever they please set up and pull down. | |
| I’ll pay the whole shilling imposed on my head, | |
Though I go without claret that night to my bed.
May I govern, etc. | 35 |
| |
| I’ll bleed without grumbling, though that tax should appear | |
| As oft as new moons, or weeks in a year; | |
| For why should I let a seditious word fall | |
Since my lambs in Utopia pay nothing at all.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| Though I care not for riches, may I not be so poor, | 40 |
| That the rich without shame cannot enter my door; | |
| May they court my converse, may they take much delight, | |
My old stories to hear in a winter’s long night.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| My small stock of wit may I not misapply, | |
| To flatter ill men, be they never so high, | 45 |
| Nor misspend the few moments I steal from the grave, | |
In fawning and cringing like a dog or a slave.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| May none whom I love, to so great riches rise, | |
| As to slight their acquaintance, and their old friends despise; | |
| So low or so high may none of them be, | 50 |
As to move either pity or envy in me.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| A friendship I wish for, but alas, ’tis in vain! | |
| Jove’s store-house is empty, and can’t it supply; | |
| So firm that no change of times, envy, or gain, | |
Or flattery, or woman, should have power to untie.
May I govern, etc. | 55 |
| |
| But if friends prove unfaithful, and fortune a whore, | |
| Still may I be virtuous though I am poor; | |
| My life then as useless, may I freely resign, | |
When no longer I relish true wit and good wine.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| To outlive my senses may it not be my fate, | 60 |
| To be blind, to be deaf, to know nothing at all; | |
| But rather let death come before ’tis too late, | |
And while there’s some sap in it, may my tree fall.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| I hope I shall have no occasion to send | |
| For priests or physicians till I am near to mine end, | 65 |
| That I have eat all my bread, and drank my last glass, | |
Let then come them, and set their seals to my pass.
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| With a courage undaunted, may I face my last day, | |
| And when I am dead may the better sort say, | |
| ‘In the morning when sober, in the evening when mellow | 70 |
He’s gone, and left not behind him his fellow.’
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| Without any noise when I’ve pass’d o’er the stage, | |
| And decently acted what part Fortune gave, | |
| And put off my vest in a cheerful old age, | |
May a few honest fellows see me laid in my grave.
May I govern, etc. | 75 |
| |
| I care not whether under a turf or a stone, | |
| With any inscription upon it, or none; | |
| If a thousand years hence, Here lies W. P. | |
Shall be read on my tomb, what is it to me?
May I govern, etc. | |
| |
| Yet one wish I add, for the sake of those few | 80 |
| Who in reading these lines any pleasure shall take, | |
| May I leave a good fame, and a sweet-smelling name. | |
| AMEN. Here an end of my wishes I make. | |
| Chorus. May I govern my passion with an absolute sway, | |
| And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away, | 85 |
| Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay. | |
| |
