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'The boys flock round him, and the people stare :
So ftiff, so mute ! some statue you would swear,
Stept from its pedestal to take the air!
And here , while town, and court , and city roars ,
With mobs, and duns, and soldiers , at their doors ;
Shall I, in London, act this idle part ?
Composing songs, for fools to get by heart?
The Temple late two brother sergeants saw ,
Who deem'd each other oracles of law;
With equal talents, these congenial souls ,
One lulld th’ Exchequer , and one stunn’d the Rolls ;
Each had a gravity would make you split ,
And shook his head at Murray, as a wit. (quencecco,
» 'Twas, Sir, your law and » Sir , your elo-
» Yours, Cowper's manner and» yours, Talbot's
Thas we dispose of all poetic merit , (sense c. Yours Milton's genius, and mine Homer's spirit. Call Tibbald Shakespear, and he'll swear the Nine , Dear Cibber! never match'd one ode of thine. Lord! how we strut thro' Merlin's Cave, to see No poets there, but Stephen , you and me. Walk with respect behind, while we at ease Weave laurel crowns, and take what names we please. » My dear Tibullus c ! if that will not do, » Let me be Horace, and be Ovid you: » Or, I'm content, allow me Dryden's strains, » And you shall rise up Otway for your pains «. Much do I suffer, much, to keep in peace This jealous, waspish , wrong-head, rhyming race; And much muft fatter, if the whim should bite To court applause by printing what I write:
But let the fit pass o'er, I'mi wise enough,
To stop my ears to their confounded stuft.
In vain , bad rhymers all mankind reje&t ,
They treat themselves with most profound respect;
'Tis to final purpose that you hold your tongue,
Each prais’d within, is happy all day long :
But how severely with themselves proceed
The men, who write such verse as we can read?
Their own strict judges, not a word they spare ,
That wants or force , or light, or weight, or care,
Howe'er unwillingly it quits its place,
Nay tho’at court ( perhaps ) it may find d grace:
Such they'll degrade ; and sometimes, in its stead,
In downright charity revive the dead!
Mark where a bold expressive phrase appears ,
Bright thro' the rubbish of some hundred years ;
Command old words that long have Nept, to wake,
Words , that wise Bacon, or brave Rawleigh (pake :
Or bid the new be English , ages hence,
( For use will father what's begot by sense )
Pour the full tide of eloquence along ,
Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong,
Rich with the treasures of each foreign tongue;
Prune the luxuriant, the uncourh refine,
But show no mercy to an empty line :
Then polish all, with so much life and ease,
You think ’tis nature , and a knack to pleafe :
» But ease in writing flows from art, not chance ;
» As those move easiest who have learn'd io dance ce.
If such the plague and pains to write by rule, Bester (say 1 ) be pleas'd, and play the fool;
Call, if you will , bad rhyming a disease,
It gives men happiness, or leaves them ease.
There liv'd' in primo Georgii ( they record )
A worthy member, no small fool, a lord;
Who, tho' the house was up, delighted sate ,
Heard, noted, answer'd, as in full debate :
In all but this, a man of sober life,
Fond of his friend, and civil to his wife;
Not quite a madman, tho’a pasty feil,
And much too wife to walk into a well.
Him, the damn'd doctors and his friends immur'd,
They bled, they cupp'd, they purg'd; in short, they
Whereat the gentleman began to stare (cur’d:
My friends! he cry'd, p-x take you for your care !
That from a patriot of distinguish'd note,
Have bled and purg'd me to a simple vote.
Well, on the whole, plain profe must be my fate : Wisdom ( curse on it) will come foon or late. There is a time when poets will grow dull : I'll e’en leave verses to the boys at school: To rules of poetry no more confin'd, I'll learn to smooth and harmonize my mind, Teach ev'ry thought within its bounds to roll, And keep the equal measure of the soul.
Soon as I enter at my country door, My mind resumes the thread it dropt before ; Thoughts, which at Hyde-park-corner I forgot , Meet and rejoin me, in the pensive grot. There all alone, and compliments apart, I ask these sober questions of my heart. If , when the more you drink , the more you crave,
You tell the doctor when the more you have ,
The more you want, why not with equal ease
Confess as well your folly, as disease?
The heart resolves this matter in a trice,
- Men only feel the sinart, but not the vice co
When golden Angels ceaie to cure the evil,
You give all royal witchcraft to the Devil:
When servile chaplains cry, that birth and place
Indue a peer with honour, truth , and grace,
Look in that breast, most dirty D-! be fair,
Say, can you find out one such lodger there?
Yet still, not heeding what your heart can teach,
You go to church to hear these fatt'rers preach.
Indeed, could wealth bestow or wit or merit, A grain of courage, or a spark of spirit, The wisest man might blush , I must agree , If D*** lov'd sixpence , more than he. If there be truth in law, and use can give.
yours on which you live. Delightful Abs-court, if its fields afford Their fruits to you, confesses you its lord : All worldly's hens , nay, partridge , sold to town His ven’son too ,
a guinea makes your own: He bought at thousands , what with better wit You purchase as you want, and bit by bit; Now, or long since , what diff'rence will be found? You pay a penny, and he paid a pound.
Heat cote himself, and fuch large-acred men, Lords of fat E'sham, or of Lincoln fen, Buy ev'ry stick of wood that lends them heat , Buy ev'ry pullet they afford to eat.
Yet these are wights, who fondly call their own
Half that the Devil o’erlooks from Lincoln town,
The laws of God, as well as of the land,
Abhor, a perpetuity should stand :
Estates have wings, and hang in Fortune's pow's
Loose on the point of ev'ry wav'ring hour,
Ready, by force, or of your own accord,
By sale', at least by death , to change their lord.
Man: and for ever? wretch! what wou'dit thou have?
Heir urges heir , like wave impelling wave.
All vast possessions ( just the same the case
Whether you call them villa , park, or chase)
Alas, my Bathurst! what will they avail?
Join Cotswood hills to Saperton's fair dale ,
Let rising granaries and temples here,
There mingled farms and pyramids appear,
Link towns to towns with avenues of oak,
Enclose whole downs in walls, 'tis all a joke!
Inexorable Death shall level all,
And and stones, and farms, and farmer fall.
Gold, silver, iv'ry , vases sculptur'd high,
Paint, marble , gems, and robes of Persian dye ,
There are who have not; and thank heav'n there are ,
Who, if they have not, think not worth their care.
Talk what you will oftaste, my friend, you'll find Two of a face, as soon as of a mind. Why, of two brothers, rich and restlefs one Plows, burns, manures, and toils from sun to sun; The other slights, for women, sports, and wines, All Townshend's turnips, and all Grosvenor's mines : Why one like Bu-with pay and scorn content