How wouldst thou shake at Britain's modish tribe,
Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe?
Attentive truth and nature to decry,
And pierce each scene with philofophic eye.
To thee were folemn toys or empty shew,
The robes of pleasure and the veils of woe:
All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain,
Whose joys are causeless, or whose griefs are vain.
Such was the fcorn that fill'd the fage's mind,
Renew'd at ev'ry glance on humankind;
How juft that fcorn ere yet thy voice declare,
Search every state, and canvass ev'ry prayer.
• Unnumber'd fuppliants crowd Preferment's gate,
Athirst for wealth, and burning to be great;
Delufive Fortune hears th' inceffant call,
They mount, they fhine, evaporate, and fall.
On ev'ry stage the foes of peace attend,
Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their end.
Love ends with hope, the finking statesman's door
Pours in the morning worshiper no more';
For growing names the weekly fcribbler lies,
To growing wealth the dedicator flies,
From every room defcends the painted face,
That hung the bright Palladium of the place,
And fmoak'd in kitchens, or in auctions fold,
To better features yields the frame of gold;
For now no more we trace in ev'ry line
Heroic worth, benevolence divine:
The form diftorted juftifies the fall,
And deteftation rids th' indignant wall.
But will not Britain hear the last appeal,
Sign her foes doom, or guard her fav'rites zeal;
Thro' Freedom's fons no more remonstrance rings,
Degrading nobles and controuling kings;
Our fupple tribes reprefs their patriot throats,
And afk no queftions but the price of votes ;
With weekly libels and feptennial ale,
Their wifh is full to riot and to rail.
In full-blown dignity, fee Wolfey stand,
Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand:
To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs confign,
Thro' him the rays of regai bounty shine,
Still to new heights his reftlefs wishes tow'r,
Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r ;
'Till conquest unrefifted ceas'd to please,
And rights fubmitted, left him none to feize.
At length his fov'reign frowns the train of ftate
Mark the keen glance, and watch the fign to hate.
Where e'er he turns he meets a stranger's eye,
His fuppliants fcorn him, and his followers fly;
At once is loft the pride of aweful state,
The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate,
The regal palace, the luxurious board,
The liv'ried army, and the menial lord.
With age, with cares, with maladies opprefs'd,
He feeks the refuge of monaftic rest.
Grief aids disease, remember'd folly ftings,
And his laft fighs reproach the faith of kings.
Speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine,
Shall Wolfey's wealth, with Wolfey's end be thine?
Or liv'ft thou now, with fafer pride content,
The wifeft juftice on the banks of Trent?
For why did Wolfey near the fteeps of fate,
On weak foundations raife th' enormous weight?
Why but to fink beneath Misfortune's blow,
With louder ruin to the gulphs below ?
What f gave great Villiers to th' affaffin's knife,
And fix'd disease on Harley's clofing life?
What murder'd Wentworth, and what exil'd Hyde,
By kings protected, and to kings ally'd?
What but their with indulg'd in courts to shine,
And pow'r too great to keep, or to refign?
When firft the college rolls receive his name,
The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame;
Thro' all his veins the fever of renown
Spreads from the ftrong contagion of the gown;
O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread,
And h Bacon's manfion trembles o'er his head.
f Ver. 108-113. 8 Ver. 114-- -132. There is a tradition, that the fudy of friar Bacon, built on an arch over the bridge, will fall, when a man greater than Bacon fhall pass under it,
Are these thy views? proceed illuftrious youth,
And virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth!
Yet fhould thy foul indulge the gen'rous heat,
'Till captive Science yields her laft retreat;
Should Reafon guide thee with her brightest ray,
And pour on mifty Doubt refistless day;
Should no falfe Kindness lure to loose delight,
Nor Praise relax, nor Difficulty fright;
Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain,
And Sloth effufe her opiate fumes in vain ;
Should Beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart,
Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart;
Should no Difeafe thy torpid veins invade,
Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy fhade;
Yet hope not life from grief or danger free,
Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee:
Deign on the paffing world to turn thine eyes,
And pause awhile from letters, to be wife;
There mark what ills the fcholar's life affail,
Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.
See nations flowly wife, and meanly juft,
To buried merit raise the tardy bust.
If dreams yet flatter, once again attend,
Here Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end.
Nor deem, when Learning her last prize bestows,
The glitt'ring eminence exempt from woes;
See when the vulgar 'fcape, defpis'd or aw'd,
Rebellion's vengeful talons feize on Laud.
From meaner minds, tho' fmaller fines content
The plunder'd palace or fequefter'd rent;
Mark'd out by dangerous parts he meets the shock,
And fatal Learning leads him to the block:
Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep,
But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and fleep.
The i feftal blazes, the triumphal show,
The ravish'd ftandard, and the captive foe,
The fenate's thanks, the gazette's pompous tale,
With force refiftlefs o'er the brave prevail.
Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Afia whirl'd,
For fuch the fteady Romans fhook the world ;
For fuch in diftant lands the Britons shine,
And ftain with blood the Danube or the Rhine;
This pow'r has praise, that virtue scarce can warm,
'Till fame fupplies the universal charm.
Yet Reason frowns on War's unequal game,
Where wafted nations raise a fingle name,
And mortgag'd states their grandfires wreaths regret,
From age to age in everlasting debt;
Wreaths which at laft the dear-bought right convey
To ruft on medals, or on ftones decay.
Onk what foundation ftands the warrior's pride,
How juft his hopes let Swedish Charles decide;
A frame of adamant, a foul of fire,
No dangers fright him, and no labours tire;
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