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And certain laws, by suff'rers thought unjust,
Hopes after hopes of pious Papist fail'd,
of mind ;
But (thanl. to Homer !) since I live and thrive, My only son, I'd have him see the world : Indebted to no prince or peer alive, His French is pure; his voice too-you shall Sure I should want the care of ten Monroes, hear,
If I would scribble rather than repose. [day, “Sir, he's your slave for twenty ponnds a-year. Y cars following years steal something ev'ry
Mere wax as yet, you fashion him with ease, At last they steal us from ourselves away ;
Your barber,civok,upholst'rer,what you please? In one our frolics, one amusements end, “ A perfect genius at an opera song
In one a mistress drops, in one a friend : " To say too much, might do my honor wrong. This subtle thief of life, this paltry Time, " Take him with all his virtues, on my word; What will it leave me, if it snatch my rhyme ? “ His whole ambition was to serve a lord : If ev'ry wheel of that unwearied mill,
But, Sir, to you, with what would I not part? That túru'd ten thousand verses now stand still? "Tho' faith, I fear,'twill break his inother'sheart. But, after all, what would you have me do,
Once (and but once) I caught him in a lie, When out of twenty I can please not two;
And then, unwhipp'd, he had the grace to cry: When this heroics only deigns to praise, “ The fault he has I' fairly shall rereal ; Sharp Satire that, and that Pindaric lays? " (Could you o'erlook but that) it is, to steal.” One likes the pheasant's wing, and one the leg:
If, after this, you too the graceless lad, The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg. Could you complain, my friend, he prov'd so bad? Hard task ! to hit the palate of such guests, Faith, in such case, if you should prosecute,
When Oldfield loves what Darlincut detests. I think Sir Godfrey should decide the suit, But grant I may relapse, for want of grace, W'ho sent the thief, that stole the cash, away, Again to rhyme : can London be the place? And punishid him that put it in his way.
Who there his Musc, or self, or soul attends, Consider then, and judge me in this light; In crowds and courts, law, business, feasts, and I told you, when I went, I could not write;
friends? You said the same; and are you discontent My counsel sends to execute a deed : With laws to which you gave your own assent? A Poet begs ne I will hear him read : Nay worse, to ask for verse at such a time! In Palace-yard at nine you 'll find me there D'ye think we good for nothing but to rhyme ? At ten for certain, Sir, in Bloomsbury-square
In Anna's wars, a soldier poor and old Before the Lords at twelve my Cause comes onHad dearly earn'd a little purse of golol:
There's a Rehearsal, Sir, exact at one. Tir'd with a tedious march, one luckless night
“ Oh! but a Wit can study in the streets, lle slept, poor dog! and lost it to a doit. “ And raise his mind above ile mob he meets," This
put the man in such a desp'rate mind, Not quite so well however as one ought; Between revenge, and grief, and hunger join'd, A hackney-coach may chance to spoil a thought; Against the foe, himself, and all mankind, And then a vodding-bcam, or pig of lead, He leap'd the trenches, scal'd a castle wall, God knows, may hurt the very abolest head. Tore down a standard, took the fort and all. Have
not seen, at Guildliall's narrow pass, Prodigious well.” his great commander cried ; Two Áldermen dispute it with an Ass; Gave him much praise, and some reward beside? And Peers give way, cxalted as ihey are, Next pleas’d his excellence a town to batter;
Ev'n to their own S-r-v-nce in a car? name I know not, and 'tis no great matter) Go, lofty Poet! and in such a crowd “: Go on, my friend (he cried) see yonder walls! Sing thy sonorous verse
- but not aloud, "Advance and conquer! go where glory calls !
Alas! to grottos and to groves we run ; More honors, more rewards, attend the brave." To ease and silence ev'ry Muse's son : Don't you remember what reply he gave? Blackmore himself, for any grand effort, "D'ye think me, noble Gen'ral, such a sot? Would drink and doze at Tooting or Earl's-court. "Lei binı take castles who has ne'er a groat.” How shall I'rhyme in this eternal roar? [before? Bred up at home, full early I begun
How match the bards whom none e'er inatch'd To read in Greek the wrath of Peleus' son. The man who, stretch'd in Isis' calm retreat, Besides my father taught me, froin a lard,
To books and study gives seven years complete, The better art to know the good from bad: See! strew'd with learned dust,'his nighicap on, (And little sure imported to remore,
He walks, an object new beneath the sun To liant for truth in Maudlin's learned grove), The boy3flock round him, and the people stare : But knottier points we knew not half so well So stiff, so mute! some statue, you would swear, Depriv'd us soon of our paternal cell; Stept from its pedestal to take the air!,
And here, while town, and court, and city roars, Who, tho' the House was up, delighted sates With mobs, and duns, and soldiers, at their doors, Heard, noted, answer'd, as in full debate : Shall I in London act this idle part?
In all but this, a man of sober life, Composing songs, for tools to get by heart? Fond of his Friend, and civil to his Wife;
The Teinple late two brother Serjeants saw, Not quite a madman tho' a pasty fell,
they cur'd: And shook his head at Alurray, as a wit. Whereat the gentleman began to stare — "Twas, “ Sir, your law"--and • Sir, your elo- My friends! he cried, p-x take you for yoar care, quence;'
[bot's sense. That from a Patriot of distinguish'd note, “Yours, Cowper’s manners; and Tours, Tal- | Have blal and purgid me to a simple Vore. Thus we dispose of all poetic merit;
Well, on the whole, plain prose must be myfate: Yours Milton's genius, and mine Homer's spirit. Wisdom, curse on it! will come soon or late
. Call Tibbald Shakspeare,and he'll swearthe Nine, There is a time when Poets will grow dull: Dear Cibber! never match'd one Ode of thine. I'll e'en leare verses to the boys at school : Lord! how we strut thro' Merlin's Cave to see To mles of Poetry no more confin'd, No
poets there but Stephen, you, and me. I'll learn to sinooth and harmonze my mind; Walk with respect behind, while we at ease Teaclı ev'ry thought within its bounds to roll, Weave laurel Crowns, and take what names we And keep the equal measure of the soul. “My dear Tibullus!" if that will not do, (please, Soon as I enter at my country door, “ Let me be Horace, and be Ovid you : lly inind resumes the thread it dropp'd before ; “Or, I'ın content; allow nie Dryden's strains, Tought which at Hyrle-park corner I forgot, “ And you shall rise up Otway for your pains.”leet and rejoin me in the pensive Grot; Much do I suffen, much to keep in peace
There all alone, and complimeni. apart, This jealous, waspish, wrong-head, rhyming race; I ask these sober questions of my heart : And much musi flatter, if the whim should bite If, when the more you drink, the more you To court applause, by printing what I write :
crave, But, let the fit pass o'er, I'on wise enough
You tell the Doctor; when the more you have, To stop my ears to their confounded stuff. The more you want, why not with equal ease
In vain bad Rhymers all mankind reject, [spect: Confess as well your Follv, as Disease ? They treat themselves with most profound re- The heart resolves this matter in a trice : 'Tis to small purpose that you
hold your tongue;
Men only feel the Smart, but not the Vice." Each, prais d within, is happy all day long : When golden Angels cease to cure the Evil, But how severely with themselves proceed You give all royal Witchcraft to the Devil ;
The men who write such Verse as we can real! When servile Chaplains cry that birth and place Their own strict Judges, not a word they spare Endue a Peer with honor, truth, and grace, That wants or force, or light, or weight, or care. Look if that breast, most dirty D— ! be fair ; Howe'er unwillingly it quits its place,
Say, can you find out one such lodger there? Nay tho' ať Court (perhaps) it inay find grace : Yet still, not heeding what your heart can teach, Such they'll degrade; and sometimes, in its stead, You go to church to hear these fart'rers preach. In downright charity resive the dead;
Indee could wealth bestow or wit or merit, Mark where a bold expressive phrase appears, A grain of courage, or a spark of spirit, Bright thro' the rubbish of some hundred years; The wisest man might blush, I niust agree, Command old words that long baveslept, t’airake, If D*** lov'd sixpence more than he. Words that wise Bacon or brave Raleigh spake; If there be truth in Law, and Use can give Or bid the new be English, ages hence, A Property, that's yours on which Fou
live. (For Use will father what's begot by Sense) Delighted Abs-court, if its fields afford Pour the full tide of eloquence along,
Their fruits to you, confesses you its lord ; Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong, All Worldly's hens, nay partridge, sold to town, Rich with the treasures of each foreign tongue Hisien'son too, a guinca makes your own : Prune the luxuriant, the uncouih refine, Ile bonght at thousands what with better wit But show no mercy to an empty line :
You purchase as you want, and hit by bit; Then polish all with so much life and ease, Now, or longsince, wlrat diff'rence will be found! You think 'tis Nature, and a knack to please : Yon pay a penny, and he paid a pound. • But ease in writing flows from art, not chance;
Heathcore himself, and such large-acred men, “ Asthose move easiest w hohiavelearn’slrodance.” Lords of fat Esham, or of Lincoln fen,
If such the plague and pains to write by rule, Buy ev'ry stick of wood that lends them heat : Better (say I) be pleas'd, and play the fool : Buy ev'ry pullet they afford to cat, Call, if you will, bad rhyming a disease; Yet these are Wights who fondly call their own It gives men happiness or leaves their case. Half thatthe Devilo'erlooks from Lincoln tovo, There liv'd in primo Georgii (they record) The Laws of God, as well as of the land, A worthy member, no small fool, a Lord; Alhor a Perpetuity should stand :
Estates have wings, and hang in fortune's pow'r, With terrors round, can reason hd her throne,
When, of a hundred thorns, you ull out one?' Link towns to toxins with avenues of oak; Learn to live well, or fairly' maè your will; Inclose whole towns in walls -'uis all a joke! You ve play'd, and lov’d, and eat, ad drank your Inexorable Death shall level all,
Walk sobér off, before a sprightliv age (till: And trees, and stones, and farmıs, and farmer fall. Comes titt'ring on, and shoves you on the stage; Gold, Silver, Iv'ry, Vases, sculptur'd kich,
Leave such tò trifle with more gre and ease, Paint, Marble, Gems, and robes of Persian dye, Whom folly pleases, and whose fllies please. There are who have not-and, thank Heaven! Who if they have not, think not worth their care. $21. Epilogues to the Satires. Inowo Dialogues.
Pope. Talk what you will of Taste, iny friend, you'll Two of a face as soon as of a inind. Thind,
DIALOGUE I. Wby, of two brothers, rich and restless one (sun; Fr. Not twice a twelvemonthyou appear in Ploughs, bums, manures, and toils from sun to
print; The other slights, for women, sports, and wines, And when it comes, the Court se nothing in't. All Townshend's turnips, and all Grosveuor's Pou grow correct, that once wit rapture writ; mines :
And are, besides, too moral for altii. Why one, like Bu— with pay and scorn content, Decay of parts, alas! we all mu feel — Bows, and votes on, in Court and Parliament, Why now, this moment, dou't isee you
steal? One, driven by strong Benevolence of soul, 'Tis all from Horace; Horace, Ing before ye, Shall fly, like Oglethorp, from pole to polo ; Said, “ Tories cali’d him Whis and Whigs a Is known alone to that Directing Pow'r
« Tors" Who forms the Genius in the watal hour; And taught his Roirans, in muh better metre, That God of Nature, who, within us still, “To laugh at fools who put theitrusť in Peter." Inclines our action, not constrains our will: But Horace, Sir, was delicate was nice; Various of temper, as of face or frame, Bubo observes, he laslı'd no sor of Vice : Each individual; his great End the same. Horace would say, Sir Billy ser'd the Crown;
Yes, Sir, how small soever be niy heap, Biunt could do business, H-ggin knew the town; A part I will enjoy as well as kcep.
In Sappho touch the Failings o'the Sex, My heir may sigh, and think it wint of grace In rev'rend Bishops note some mall neglects ; A man so poor would live without a place : Aud own the Spaniard did a wggish thing, But sure no statute in his favor says,
Whocropp'dour ears, and sent tiem to the King. How free or frugal I shall pass my days ;
His sly, pulite, insinuating styl I, who at some times spend, at others spare,
Could pleascatCourt, and inaked ugustus smile : Divided between carelessness and care.
An artful manager, that crept letween "Tis one thing madly to disperse my store ;
His friend and shaine, and wasa kind of screen. Another, not to heed to treasure more ; But, 'faith, your very friends wll soon be sore ; Glad, like a boy, to snatch the first good day,
Patriots there are who wish you'd jest no morem And pleas'd if sordid want be far away.
And where is the Glory? 'will be only thought What is 't to me a passenger, (God wot) The great man never offer'd hm a groat. Whether my vessel be first rate or not?
Go see Sir Robert The ship itself may make a better figure,
P. Sce Sir Robert! huin But I that sail aın neither less nor bigger; And never laugh for all my life to come ? I neiiber strut with ev'ry fav'ring breath, Seen him I have, but in his hippier hour Nor strive with all the tempest in my teeth: Of Social Pleasure, ill-exchanged for Pow'r, In pow'r, wit, figure, virtue, fortune, plac'd Seen him, uncumber'd with avenal tribe, Behind the foremost, and before the last. Smile without art, and win without a bribe.
" But why all this of avarice? I have none." Would he oblige ine? let ine only find I wish you joy, Sir, of a tyrant gone ; He does not think me what he thinks mankind. But does no other lord it at this hour, Come, come at all I laugh he laughs, no doubt; As wild and mad – the avarice of pow'r? The only dif'rence is – dare laugh out. Does neither rage inflame, nor fear appall? F. Why yes, with Scripture still you may be free;' Not the black fear of death that saddens all? A horse-langh, if you please, at Honesty;
A Joke on Skye, or some odd Old Whig, But, past the sense of human miseries,
No cheek is known to blush, 110 heart to throb, Whom all Ird Chamberlains allow the stage : Save when they lose a question, or a job. These nothit hurts; they keep their fashion still, P. Good Heaven forbid that I should blast And wear thír strange old virtue, as they will. their glory,
If any aslyou, “ Who's the man, so near Who know how like Whig Ministers to Tory, “Ilis prínce hat writes in verse, and has his ear?" | And when three Sor’reigns died, could scarce be Why answe Lyttleton ; and I 'll engage
vext, The worthy outh shall ne'er be in a rage: Consid'ring what a gracious Prince was next. But were hiverses vile, his whisper base, Have I, in silent wonder, seen such things You 'd quicly find him in Lord Fanny's case. As pride in Slaves, and avarice in Kings; Sejanus, Wolev, hurt not honest Fleury ; And at a Peer or Peercss shall I frei, But well maput soine statesmen in a fury. Who starves a sister, or forswears a debt? Laugh the at
but at fools or foes ; Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast; These
bu anger, and you mend not those. But shall ihe dignity of Vice be lost? Laugh at youfriends; and, if your friends are Ye Gods! shall Cibber's son, without rebuke, sore,
Swear like a Lord, or Rich outwhore a Duke? So much the retter, you may laugh the more. A fav'rite's porter with his inaster vie, To vice and wily to confine the jest,
Be brib’d as often, and as often lie? Sets half the brid, God knows, against the rest; Shall Ward draw contracts with a statesman's Did not the sper of more impartial men Or Japhet pocket, like his Grace, a will? (skill? At sense and įrtue balance all again. Is it for Bond or Peter (paltry things !) Judicious witspread wide the ridicule, To pay their debts, or keep their faith, like kings? And charitabl comfort kvave and fool, If Blount dispatch'd himself, be play'd the man,
P. Dear Si, forgive the prejudice of youth : And so may'st thou, illustrious Passeran! Adieu, distincon, satire,. waripth, and truth! But shall a Printer, weary of his life, Come, harmles characters that no one hit; Learn from their books to hang himself and wife? Come, Henleys oratory, Oslorne’s wit! This, this, my friend, I cannot, must not bear; The honey droping from Favonio's tongue, Vice thus abus'd demands a nation's care : The fow'rs of Bubo, and the flow of Y-ng! This calls the church to deprecate our sin, The gracious ew of .pulpit eloquence, And hurls the thunder of the laws on gin. And all the wel-whipp'd cream of courtly sense, Let modest Foster, if he will, excel The first was l_ry's, F's next, and then Ten Metropolitans in preaching well ; The S-te's, all then H-ry's once again. A simple Quaker, or a Quaker's wife, () come, that tsy, Ciceronian style,
Outdo Landail in doctrine - yea in life; So Latis, yet English all the while, Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame, As,'tho' the pile of Middleton and Bland, Do good by stealth, and blosh to find it fame. All boys mas ral, and girls may understand! l'irrue may choose the high or low degree, Then malliing, without the least oflence, "Tis just alike to virtue, and to me; And all sung stould be the Nation's Sense; Dwell in a Monk, or light upon a King, Or teach the mdancholy Muse to mouri, She's still the same belov’d, contented thing. Hang the şad sese on Carolina's urn,
Vice is undone if she forgets her birth, And hail her pasage to the Realms of Rest, And stoops from angels to the dregs of earth • All parts perforn'd, and all her children blest! But 'tis the Fall degrades her to a whore: So Satire is no lore- I feel it die
LetGreatness own her, and she 's niean no more. to Gazetteer mire innocent than I
Her birth,her beauty,crowds and courts confess, And let, a-God's name, ev'ry fool and knave Chaste matrons praise her,andgrarebishops bless; Be grac'd thro'lse, and flatter'd in his grave. In golden chains the willing world she draws,
F.Why so? if Satire knows his tine and place, And hers the gospel is, and hers the laws; You still may lasa the greatest in disgrace : Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, For merit will bt turns forsake them all; And sces pale Virtue carted in her stead. Would you know when? exactly when they fall. Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal car, But let all satire in all changes spare
Old England's Genius, rough with many a scars Inmortal S-k, and grave D-re.
Dragg'd in the dust! his arms hang idly round, Silent and soft as saints remov'd to heaven, His Hag inverted trains along the ground! All tjes dissoly'd, and ev'ry sin forgiven, Our youth, all livery'd o'er with foreign gold, These may some gentle ministerial wing Before her dance; behind her, crawl the old! Receive, and place for ever near a King ! (sport, See thronging millions to the Pagod run, There, where no passion, pride, or shame tran- And offer country, parent, wise, or son! Lulld with the sweet Nepenthe of a Court; Hear her black trumpet thro' the land proclaiin, There, where ro father's, brother's, friend's dis- That not to be corrupted is the shame, grace
In soldier, churchman, patriot, man in pow'r, Oncebreaktheir rest,or stir them from their place. "Tis av'rice all, anbition is no more!
See all our nobles begging to be slaves ! Then better sure it Charity becomes
E. Stop! stop !
F. Yes, strike that Wild, I'lljustify the blow. Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain) P. Strike? why the man was hang'd ten years Show there was one who held it in disdain.
Who now that obsolete example fears?
Even Peter trembles only for his ears.
F. What alwaysPeter Peter thinks you mad; F. 'Tis all a libel — Paxton (Sir) will say. You make inen desp’rale, if they once are bad :
P. Not yet, my friend! to-morrow, 'faith Else might he take to virtue some years henceAnd for that very cause I print to-day. (may P. Ass-k, if he lives, will love the Prinoe. How should I fret to mangle ev'ry line,
F. Strange spleen to Sk! In reverence to the sins of Thirty-nine !
P. Do I wrong the man? Vice with such giant strides connes on amain, God knows, I praise a Courtier where I can. Inverition strives to be before in vain ;
When I confess, there is who feels for fame, Feign what I will, and paint it e'er so strong, And melis to goodness, need I Scarb'row name? Some rising genius sins up to my song. Pleas'd let me own, in Esher's peaceful grove
F. Yet none but you by name the guilty lash; (Where Kent and nature vie for Pelham's love), Even Guthry saves half Newgate by a dash. The scene, the master, op'ning to my view, Spare then the person, and expose the viee : I sit and dream I see my Craggs anew!
P. How, Sir! not damn the sharper, but the Even in a Bishop I can spy Jesert ;
I shun his zenith, court his mild decline ; P.Why that's the thing you bid me not to do. Thus Somers once and Halifax were mine. Who starv'd a sister, who forswore a debt, Oft, in the clear still mirror of retreat, I never nam d; the town 's inquiring yet. I studied Shrewsbury, the wise and great; F.The pois’ningclame, you mean.-P.I don't. Carleton's calm sense and Stanhope's noble flame F. You do.
Compar'd, and knew theirgen'rousend the same. P. See, now I keep the secret, and not you! How pleasing Alterbury's softer hour! The bribing statesman.-F.Hold, toohighyougo. How shin’d the soul, unconquer'd in the Tow'r! P. The brib'd elector.— F. There you stoop How can I Pull’ney, Chesterfield forget, too low.
While Roman spirit charms, and Attie wit? P. I fain would please you, if I knew with Argyle, the State's whole thunder born to wield, what;
And shake alike the senate and the field : Tell me which knave is lawful game, which not? Or Wyndham, just to freedom and the thronc, Must great oflenders, once escap'd the Crown, The master of our passions, and his own : Like royal harts, be never more run down? Names which I long have lov’d, nor lov'd in vain, Admit your law to spare the knight requires, Rank'd with their friends, not number'd with As beasts of nature may we hunt the 'squires ? their train; Suppose I censure you know what I mean- And if yet higher the proud list should end, To save a Bishop, may I name a Dean? Still let me say, No follower, but a friend
F. A Dean, Sir? nó; his fortune is not made; Yet think not, friendship only prompts inylays; You hart a man that 's rising in the trade. I follow Virtue; where she shines, I praise ;
P. If not the tradesman who set up to-day, Point she to Priest or Elder, Whig or Tory,
P. Not so fierce; Scarce hurts the Lawyer, but undoes the Scribe. Find you the virtue, and I 'll find the verse.