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Fop at the toilet, Alati’rer at the board ,
Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.
Eve's tempter thus the rabbins have exprest,
A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest.
Beauty that shocks you , parts that none will trust,
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.

Not fortune's worshipper, nor fashion's fool,
Nor lucre’s madman , nor ambition's tool,
Not proud, nor servile ; be one poet's praise ,
'That, if he pleas'd , he pleas'd by manly ways:
That Alatı'ry, ev'n to kings , he held a shaine,
And thought a lye in verse or prose the same.
That not in fancy's maze he wander'd long,
But stoop'd to truth, and moraliz’d his song:
That not for fame, but virtue's better end,
He stood the furious foe, the timid friend,
The damning critic, half approving wit,
The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit;
Laughid at the loss of friends he never had,
The dull, the proud , the wicked, and the mad;
The distant threats of vengeance on his head,
The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed;
The tale reviv'd, the lye so oft o’erthrown,
Th' imputed trash , and duiness not his own ;
The mora's blacken'd when the writings 'scape,
The libeld person, and the pictur'd shape ;
Abuse, on all he lov’d, or lov'd him, spread ,
A friend in exile , or a father dead;
The whisper, that to greatness still too near ,
Perhaps , yet vibrates on his sov'reign's ear
Welcome for thee , fair Virtue ! all the past

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For thee , fair Virtue ! welcome ev'n the last!

A. But why insult the poor, affront the great!
P. A knave's a knave, to me, in ev'ry state:
Alike my scorn , if he succeed or fail,
Sporus at court, or Japher in a jail,
A hireling scribler, or hireling peer,
Knight of the post corrupt, or of the shire
If on a pillory, or near a throne,
He gain his prince's ear, or lose his own.

Yer soft by nature , more a dupe than wit,
Sappho can tell you how this man was bit :;
This dreaded fat'rift Dennis will confess
Foe to his pride, but friend to his diftress :
So humble, he has knock'd at Tibbald's door,
Has drunk with Cibber, nay has rhym'd for Moor.
Full ten years flanderd, did he once reply?
Three thousand suns went down on Welfteď's lye.
To please a mistress one aspers'd his life :
He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife :
Let Budgel charge low Grubstreet on his quill,
And write whate'er he pleas'd, except his will;
Let the two Curls of town and court , abuse
His father, mother, body, soul, and Muse,
Yet why? that father held it for a rule ,
It was a sin to call our neighbour fool :
That harmless mother thought no wife a whore :
Hear this, and spare his family, James Moore !
Unspotted names, and memorable long!
If there be force in virtue , or in song.

Of gentle blood ( part shed in honour's cause,
While yet in Britain honour had applause)

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Each parent sprung -- A. What fortune , pray?

P. Their own ,
And better got, than Bestia's from the throne.
Born to no pride inheriting no ftrife,
Nor marrying discord in a noble wife,
Stranger to civil and religious rage,
The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age.
No courts he saw, no suits would ever try ,
Nor dar'd an oath, nor hazarded a lye.
Unlearn'd he knew no schoolman's subtile art,
No language, but the language of the heart.
By nature honest, by experience wise,
Healthy by temp’rance, and by exercise ;
His life, tho' long; to sickness.paft unknown,
His death was instant, and without a groan.
O grant me, thus to live, and thus to die!
Who sprung from kings shall know less joy than I.

O Friend! may each domestic bliss be thine !
Be no unpleasing melancholy mine:
Me, let the tender office long engage,
To rock the cradle of reposing age,
With lenient arts extend a mother's breath,
Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death,
Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,
And keep a while one parent from the sky!
Cn cares like these if length of days attend,
May heav'n, to bless those days, preserve my friend,
Preserve him social, chearful, and ferene,
And just as rich as when he serv'd a queen.
A. Whether that blelling be deny'd or giv'n,
Thus far was right, the rest belongs to heav'n.










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