O while along the stream of Time thy Name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame;
Say, fhall my little barque attendant fail,
Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?
F the end and efficacy of Satire. The love of glory and fear of fame univerfal, v. 29. This paffion, im-
planted in man as a spur to virtue, is generally perverted, v.
41. And thus becomes the occafion of the greatest follies, vices,
and miferies, v. 61. It is the work of Satire to rectify this
paffion, to reduce it to its proper channel, and to convert it into
an incentive to wisdom and virtue, v. 89. Hence it appears
that Satire may influence those who defy all laws human and
divine, v. 99. An objection answered, v. 131.
Rules for the conduct of Satire. Justice and truth its chief and effential property, v. 169. Prudence in the appli- cation of wit and ridicule, whofe province is, not to explore unknown, but to enforce known truths, v. 191. Proper fub-
jects of Satire are the manners of prefent times, v. 239. Decency
of expreffion recommended, v. 255. The different methods in
which folly and vice ought to be chaftifed, v. 269. The va-
riety of file and manner which these two fubjects require, v.
277. The praife of virtue may be admitted with propriety,
v. 315. Caution with regard to panegyrick, v. 319. The
dignity of true Satire, v. 331.
The hiftory of Satire. Roman Satirifts, Lucilius, Hc-
race, Perfius, Juvenal, v. 347, &c. Caufes of the decay of
literature, particularly of Satire, v. 379. Revival of Sa-
tire, v. 391. Erafmus one of its principal reftorers, v. 395.
Donne, v. 401. The abufe of Satire in England, during the
licentious reign of Charles II. v. 405. Dryden, v. 419.
The true ends of Satire pursued by Boileau in France, v. 429;
and by Mr. Pope in England, v. 435.
ATE gave the word; the cruel arrow fped; And POPE lies number'd with the mighty dead!
Refign'd he fell fuperior to the dart,
That quench'd its rage in YouRs and BRITAIN's heart:
You mourn: but BRITAIN, lull'd in rest profound, (Unconscious Britain!) flumbers o'er her wound. Exulting Dulness ey'd the setting light,
And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the night: Rous'd at the fignal, Guilt collects her train, And counts the triumphs of her growing reign: With inextinguishable rage they burn, And fnake-hung Envy hiffes o'er his urn: Th' envenom'd monsters spit their deadly foam, To blaft the laurel that furrounds his tomb.
But You, O WARBURTON! whofe eye refin'd Can fee the greatness of an honeft mind; Can fee each virtue and each grace unite, And tafte the raptures of a pure delight; You vifit oft his aweful page with care,
And view that bright affemblage treafur'd there; You trace the chain that links his deep design, And pour new luftre on the glowing line. Yet deign to hear the efforts of a Muse, Whofe eye, not wing, his ardent flight pursues ; Intent from this great archetype to draw
SATIRE's bright form, and fix her equal law;
Pleas'd if from hence th' unlearn'd may comprehend, And reverence His and SATIRE'S
In ev'ry breast there burns an active flame, The love of glory, or the dread of shame : The paffion ONE, tho' various it appear, As brighten'd into hope, or dimm'd by fear. 3
The lifping infant, and the hoary fire,
And youth and manhood feel the heart-born fire; The charms of praise the coy, the modest wooe, And only fly, that glory may pursue : She, pow'r refiftlefs, rules the wife and great; Bends ev'n reluctant hermits at her feet: Haunts the proud city, and the lowly shade, And sways alike the scepter and the spade.
Thus heav'n in pity wakes the friendly flame, Το urge mankind on deeds that merit fame: But man, vain man, in folly only wife, Rejects the manna fent him from the skies: With rapture hears corrupted paffion's call, Still proudly prone to mingle with the ftall. As each deceitful fhadow tempts his view, He for the imag'd fubftance quits the true: Eager to catch the visionary prize, In queft of glory plunges deep in vice; Till madly zealous, impotently vain, He forfeits ev'ry praise he pants to gain..
Thus ftill imperious Nature plies her part; And still her dictates work in ev'ry heart. Each pow'r that fov'reign Nature bids enjoy, Man may corrupt, but man can ne'er destroy. Like mighty rivers, with refiftless force The paffions rage, obftructed in their course; Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore, And drown thofe virtues which they fed before.
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