Doctor POPE'S WISH. THE ONLY Correct and Finished COPY: Never before PRINTED.  
Quid dedicatum poscit Apollinem  
Vates, quid orat? de Patera novum  
Fundens Liquorem?  Hor. Od. 31. Lib. 1. 
Me quoties reficit gelidus Digentia rivus,  
Quem Mandela bibit, rugosus frigore pagus.  
Quid sentire putas? quid credis Amice precari?  Idem Epist. 18. Lib. 1. 
LONDON: Printed for THOMAS HORN, MDCXCIII.   

THE PROLOGUE to the WISH.  
BEING A A PARAFRASE on the VERSES in the TITLE-PAGE.  

WHen Poets, offering at Apollo's Shrine,  
Out of the sacred Goblets pour new Wine,  
What do they Wish? What do they then Desire?   

When I'm at Epsom, or on Banstead-Down,  
Free from the Wine, and Smoke, and Noise o' th' Town,  
When I those Waters Drink, and Breath that Air,  
What are my Thoughts? what's my continual Prayer?    

The WISH.  

I.  
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,  
And grow wiser, and better, as my Strength wears away,  
Without Gout, or Stone, by a gentle Decay.   

II.  
Near a shady Grove, and a murmuring Brook,  
With the Ocean at distance, whereon I may look,  
With a spacious Plain without Hedge or Style,  
And an easy Pad Nag to ride out a Mile.  
May I, etc.   

III.  
With Horace and Petrarch, and two or three more  
Of the best Wits that Reigned in the Ages before,  
With Roast Mutton rather than Venison or Teal,  
And clean, though coarse, Linen at every Meal.  
May I, etc.   

iv  
With a Pudding on Sundays, and stout humming Liquor,  
And remnants of Latin to welcome the Vicar,  
With Monte-Fiasconè, or Burgundy Wine,  
To drink the King's Health as oft as I dine.  
May I, etc.   

V  
Nor Tory, or Whig, nor Observator, or Trimmer  
May I be, nor against the Laws Torrent a Swimmer,  
May I mind what I speak, what I writ, and hear read,  
But with Matters of State ne'er trouble my head.  
May I, etc.   

VI  
Though I covet not Riches, may I not be so poor,  
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, etc.   

VII.  
My small stock of Wit, may I not misapply,  
To flatter Ill Men, be they never so high,  
Nor misspend the few Moment's, I steal from the Grave,  
In Fawning, and Cringing, like a Dog or a Slave.  
May I, etc.   

VIII.  
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,  
As to move either Pity or Envy in me.  
May I, &c,   

IX.  
A Friendship I wish for, but alas 'tis in vain,  
Jove's Storehouse 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, etc.   

X.  
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, etc.   

XI.  
To outlive my Senses may it not be my Fate,  
To be blind, to be deaf, to know nothing at all,  
But rather let Death come before 'tis so late,  
And while there's some Sap in it may my Tree fall.  
May I, etc.   

XII.  
For those who profess Soul or Body to mend,  
Though I hope I shall have no occasion to send,  
When I've eat All my Bread, and drank my Last Glass,  
May they come Then and set their Seals to my Pass.  
May I, etc.   

XIII.  
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,  
He's Gone, and Left not behind him his Fellow.  
May I, etc.   

XIV.  
Without any Noise when I've passed 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 a Grave.  
May I, etc.   

XV.  
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, etc.   

XVI.  
Yet one Wish I add, for the sake of those Few,  
Who in reading of this 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 Passions with an absolute Sway,  
And grow wiser, and better, as my Strength wears away,  
Without Gout, or Stone by a gentle Decay.   
FINIS.