Fable I. the River with a Petition

According to the Romish creed, I speak of Rome two thousand years ago, The life that they suppos'd the Gods to lead, You would not chuse to undergo. Jupiter's business, day and night, Was to attend with open ears and eyes, And to write down, as fast as he could write, All the impertinence that men devise. Besides mens fopperies and ravings, The women had so great a share, That their absurdities and cravings Omnipotence alone could bear. And furthermore, to try his patience, He heard the prayers and fanciful distresses Of all his children and relations, And of his wife and his mis-tresses. Once on a time, if you'll believe tradition, A river in great tribulation, To Jupiter presented a petition, With an expostulating exhortation; Whereby, if the petitioner's refus'd, He has a right to think himself ill-us'd; A form of prayer contriv'd for execution, Exactly like a double-barrell'd gun, Which if you fire with resolution, You have another chance when one is done, So far from killing two birds with one stone, An art that's very little known; All the petitioner desir'd to do, Was to kill one with two. Now this petition shew'd how the petitioner, For his fidelity, zeal, and devotion, Had been appointed a commissioner Of the revenues of the Ocean, Which he collected with great pains, And sent in good and current cash, But, for his trouble and clear gains, The Sea return'd adulterated trash: Wherefore he pray'd, Exhorted and submitted, That all the sums the Ocean paid, Shall for the future be remitted, And issued fair, Without debasement or impair. Ungrateful Thames! the God replied, Without that mixture and alloy, Which the Sea pours into thee every tide, Thy beauty and thy strength would wear away. Without his aid thou wouldst remain Like Tiber, or the poor pretending Seine, Led thro' parterres, or rolled down a cascade, Confin'd to vanity, and lost to trade. 'Tis thus the Highlander complains, 'Tis thus the Union they abuse For binding their back-sides in chains, And shackling their feet in shoes: For giving them both food and fewel, And comfortable cloaths, Instead of cruel oat-meal gruel; Instead of rags and heritable blows. Luxury every day grows stronger; The Highland fair Beholds her lover now no longer Trotting with his buttocks bare. Thus Doctor Brown was taken with the spleen, And fancied we were all undone, Raving about a carpet and a screen, And out of temper with the sun: Because it is a crime, As he supposes, For men to run in winter time Into the sun to warm their noses. 'Tis an egregious want of sense, A want of taste, and want of shame, To fancy universal affluence And luxury the same. In spite of Doctor Brown's discerning, The term of universal will agree, As well with his benevolence and learning, As universal suit with luxury. He may perceive, if he be so inclin'd, Like his discernment, luxury's confin'd. For as the gout torments the hands and feet, To ease the nobler stomach and the head, So luxury, to gratify the great, Insults and robs the labourer of his bread. Luxury in a state is a disease, Because 'tis partial, and obstructed wealth, But universal affluence and ease Is universal happiness and health.