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31 et every child another song will sing, * Virtue, brave boys! 'tis virtue makes a king.' True, conscious honour, is to feel no sin, He's arm'd without that's innocent within; Be this thy screen, and this thy wall of brass ; Compared to this, a minister 's an ass.
And say, to which shall our applause belong This new court-jargon, or the good old song ? The modern language of corrupted peers, Or what was spoke at Cressy or Poitiers ? Who counsels best? who whispers, ‘Be but great, With praise or infamy, leave that to fate; Get place and wealth, if possible, with grace; If not, by any means get wealth and place :' For what? to have a box where eunuchs sing, And foremost in the circle eye a king : Or he, who bids thee face with steady view Proud fortune, and look shallow greatness through: And, while he bids thee, sets the example too? If such a doctrine, in St. James's air, Should chance to make the well-dress'd rabble
Well, if a king's a lion, at the least
The rest, some farm the poor-box, some the pows;
Of all these ways, if each pursues his own,
No place on eartis, he cried, 'like Greenwich-hill"
mean, But give the knight (or give his lady) spleen ; • Away, away! take all your scaffolds down, For snug 's the word: my dear, we'll live in town:'
At amorous Flavio is the stocking thrown? That very night he longs to lie alone. The fool whose wife elopes some thrice a quarter, For matrimonial solace dies a martyr. Did ever Proteus, Merlin, any witch, Transform themselves so strangely as the rich ? Well, but the poor-the poor have the same itch; They change their weekly barber, weekly news, Prefer a new japanner to their shoes ; Discharge their garrets, move their beds, and run (They know not whither) in a chaise and one;, They hire their sculler, and when once aboard, Grow sick, and damn the climate-like a lord.
You laugh, half-beau half-sloven if I stand, My wig all powder, and all snuff my band : You laugh, if coat and brecches strangely vary, White gloves, and linen worthy lady Mary!
But when no prelate's lawn, with hair-shirt lined,
BOOK I.-EPISTLE VI.
TO MR. MURRAY.
This piece is the most finished of all his imitations, and executed in the high manner the Italian painters call con amore ; by which they mean, the exertion of that principle which puts the faculties on the stretch, and produces the supreme degree of excellence. For the poet had all the warmth of affection for the great lawyer to whom it is addressed ; and, indeed, no man ever more deserved to have a poet for his friend.
the obtaining of which, as neither vanity, party, not fear, had any share, so he supported his title to it by all the offices of true friendship.
"Nor to admire, is all the art I know, To make men happy, and to keep them so.' (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs no flowers of speech, So take it in the very words of Creech.)
This vault of air, this congregated ball,
Admire we then what earth's low entrails holde
If weak the pleasure that from these can spring, The fear to want them is as weak a thing : Whether we dread, or whether we desire,
I either case, believe me, we admire; Whether we joy or grieve, the same the curse, Surprised at better, or surprised at worse. Thus good or bad, to one extreme betray The unbalanced mind, and snatch the man away : For virtue's self may too much zeal be had ; The worst of madmen is a saint run inad. Go then, and if
admire the state Of beaming diamonds, and reflected plate; Procure a taste to double the surprise, And gaze on Parian charms with learned eyes : 3e struck with bright brocade, or Tyrian dye, Or birth-day nobles' splendid livery.
If not so pleased, at council-board rejoice
Rack'd with sciatics, martyr'd with the stone,
But art thou one, whom new opinions sway? One who believes as Tindal leads the way, Who virtue and a church alike disowns, Thinks that but words, and this but brick and
stones? Fly then on all the wings of wild desire, Admire whate'er the maddest can admire. Is wealth thy passion ? Hence! from pole to pole, Where winds can carry, or where waves can roll;