Not so when Virtue, by her guards betray'd, Spurn'd from her throne, implores the Muses' aid; When crimes, which erst in kindred darkness lay, 295' Rise frontless, and insult the eye of Day; Indignant Hymen veils his hallow'd fires, And white-rob'd Chastity with tears retires: When rank Adult'ry on the genial bed, Hot from Cocytus, rears her baleful head ; 300 When private faith and public trust are sold, And traitors barter liberty for gold; When fell Corruption dark and deep, like Fate, Saps the foundation of a sinking state; When giant Vice and Irreligion rise 305 On mountain'd falsehoods to invade the skies ; 310 Yet Satire oft' assumes a gentler mien, 315 And beams on Virtue's friends a smile serene : She wounds reluctant, pours her balm with joy, Glad to commend where worth attracts her eye : But chief when virtue, learning, arts, decline, She joys to see unconquer'd Merit shine; Where bursting glorious with departing ray True genius gilds the close of Britain's day : 320 With joy she sees the stream of Roman art 330 Truth be your guide; disdain Ambition's call; 335 34-0 And who, unmov'd with laughter, can behold 350 By turns bid Vice or Virtue strike our eyes, 355 Call forth a Chesterfield's or Lonsdale's mind. 360 PART III. THRO' ages thus has Satire keenly shin'd, 365 This Muse in silence joy'd each better age, 379 The flaming falchion rough Lucilius drew, Then sportive Horace caught the gen❜rous fire, Politely sly, cajoll'd the foes of sense : 380 He seem'd to sport and trifle with the dart, 385 More ardent eloquence and boundless rage Inflame bold Juvenal's exalted page; His mighty numbers aw'd corrupted Rome, And swept audacious Greatness to its doom: 390 The headlong torrent thund'ring from on high Rent the proud rock that lately brav'd the sky. But, lo! the fatal victor of mankind, Swoln Luxury!---pale Ruin stalks behind! As countless insects from the north-east pour, 395 To blast the spring and ravage ev'ry flow'r, So barb'rous millions spread contagious death, The sick'ning laurel wither'd at their breath : Deep Superstition's night the skies o'erhung, Beneath whose baleful dews the poppy sprung: 400 No longer Genius woo'd the Nine to love, But Dulness nodded in the Muse's grove; Wit, spirit, freedom, were the sole offence, Nor aught was held so dangerous as sense. At length, again fair Science shot her ray, 405 Dawn'd in the skies, and spoke returning day. Now, Satire! triumph o'er thy flying foe, Now load thy quiver, string thy slacken'd bow. 'Tis done---See! great Erasmus breaks the spell, And wounds triumphant Folly in her cell: 419 (In vain the solemn coul surrounds her face, 428 'Twas then plain Donne in honest vengeance rose, His wit harmonious, tho' his rhyme was prose: 416 He 'midst an age of puns and pedants wrote With genuine sense and Roman strength of thought. Yet scarce had Satire well relum'd her flame (With grief the Muse records her country's shame) Ere Britain saw the foul revolt commence, And treach'rous Wit began her war with Sense. Then rose a shameless mercenary train, Whom latest time shall view with just disdain: A race fantastic, in whose gaudy line Untutor'd thought and tinsel beauty shine; Wit's shatter'd mirror lies in fragments bright, Reflects not nature, but confounds the sight. Dry morals the court poet blush'd to sing; 'Twas all his praise to say "the oddest thing:"430 Proud for a jest obscene, a patron's nod, To martyr Virtue, or blaspheme his God. Ill-fated Dryden! who unmov'd can see 425 Th' extremes of wit and meanness join'd in thee! Flames that could mount, and gain their kindred skies, Low creeping in the putrid sink of Vice; 436 A Muse whom Wisdom woo'd, but woo'd in vain, The pimp of Pow'r, the prostitue to Gain : Wreaths that should deck fair Virtue's form alone To strumpets, traitors, tyrants, vilely thrown: 449 |