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Her lover must be fad, to please her spleen;
His mirth is an inexpiable fin:

For, of all rivals that can pain her breast, [reft;
There's one that wounds far deeper than the
To wreck her quiet, the most dreadful shelf
Is, if her lover dares enjoy himself.

And this, because the 's exquifitely fair;
Should I difpute her beauty, how the 'd ftare!
How would Melania be furpris'd to hear
She 's quite deform'd! and yet the cafe is clear.
What's female beauty but an air divine,
Thro' which the mind's all-gentle graces fhine?
They, like the fun, irradiate all between;
The body charms because the foul is feen.
Hence men are often captives of a face,
They know not why, of no peculiar grace;
Some forms, though bright, no mortal man can
bear;

Some none refift, though not exceeding fair.

bleft.

Afpafia's highly born, and nicely bred,
Of taite refin'd, in life and manners read,
Yet reaps no fruit from her fuperior fenfe,
But to be teaz'd by her own excellence-
"Folks are fo aukward! things fo unpolite!"
She 's elegantly pain'd from morn to night.
Her delicacy 's fhock'd where'er the goes;
Each creature's imperfections are her woes.
Heaven by its favours has the fair distress'd,
And pour'd fuch bleffings-that the can't be
[fpring,
Ah! why fo vain, though blooming in thy
Thou shining, frail, ador'd, and wretched thing!
Old age will come, disease may come before;
Fifteen is full as mortal as threescore:
Thy fortune and thy charms may foon decay;
But grant thefe fugitives prolong their stay,
Their basis totters, their foundation shakes,
Life that supports them in a moment breaks.
Then wrought into the foul let virtue shine;
The ground eternal, as the work divine.

Julia's a manager, the 's born for rule,
And knows her wifer husband is a fool;
Affemblies holds, and fpins the fubtle thread
That guides the lover to his fair one's bed;
For difficult amours can smooth the way,
And tender letters dictate or convey.
But, if depriv'd of fuch important cares,
Her wisdom condescends to lefs affairs.
For her own breakfast she'll project a fcheme,
Nor take her tea without a stratagem;
Prefides o'er trifles with a ferious face,
Important by the virtue of grimace.

Ladies fupreme among amufements reign,
By nature born to foothe and entertain;
Their prudence in a fhare of folly lies;
Why will they be fo weak as to be wife?

Syrenna is for ever in extremes,
And with a vengeance the commends or blames.
Conscious of her difcernment, which is good,
She strains too much to make it understood.
Her judgment juft, her fentence is too strong;
Because the 's right, the 's ever in the wrong.

Brunetta's wife in actions great and rare;
But fcorns on trifles to bestow her care.

Thus ev'ry hour Brunetta is to blame,
Because th' occafion is beneath her aim.
Think nought a trifle, though it small appear;
Small fands the mountain,momentsmaketheyear,
And trifles life. Your care to trifies give,
Or you may die before you truly live."

Go breakfast with Alicia; there you'll fee
Simplex munditiis, to the laft degree.
Unlac'd her ftays, her night-gown is untied,
And what the has of head-drefs is afide.
She drawls her words, and waddles in her pace;
Unwash'd her hands, and much beinuff 'dherface.
A nail uncut, and head uncomb'd the loves;
And would draw on jack-boots as foon as gloves;
Gloves by queen Befs's maidens might be mist,
Her blefied eyes ne'er faw a female fift.
Lovers, beware! to wound how can the fail
With fcarlet finger and long jetty nail?
For Hervey the firft wit fhe cannot be ;
Nor, cruel Richard, the first toast for thee.
Since full each other ftation of renown,
Who would not be the greatest trapes in town?
Women were made to give our eyes delight;
A female floven is an odious fight.

Fair Ifabella is fo fond of fame,
That her dear felf is her eternal theme!
Thro' hopes of contradiction oft fhe 'll fay,
"Methinks I look fo wretchedly to-day!"
When moft the world applauds you, moft be
'Tis often lefs a bleffing than a fnare. [ware:
Diftruft mankind; with your own heart confer;
And dread even there to find a flatterer.
The breath of others raises our renown;
Our own as furely blows the pageant down;
Take up no more than you by worth can claim,
Left foon you prove a bankrupt in your fame,

But own I muft in this perverted age,
Who most deserve can't always most engage.
So far is worth from making glory fure,
It often hinders what it fhould procure.
Whom praise we moft? the virtuous, brave, and
No; wretches whom in fecret we defpife. [wife?
And who fo blind as not to fee the cause?
No rival's rais'd by fuch difcreet applause;
And yet of credit it lays in a ftore,
By which our fpleen may wound true worth

the more.

Ladies there are who think one crime is all;
Can women then no way but backward fall?
So fweet is that one crime they don't purfue,
To pay its lofs, they think all others few.
Who hold that crime fo dear muft never claim
Of injur'd modefty the facred name.

But Clio thus: "What! railing without end? "Mean talk! how much more gen'rous to com "mend!"

Yes, to commend as you are wont to do,
My kind instructor and example too.

"Daphnis," fays Clio, "has a charming eye: "What pity 'tis her fhoulder is awry!

Afpafia's fhape indeed-but then her air "The man has parts who finds deftruction there "Almeria's wit has fomething that's divine; "Andwit's enough-how few in all thingsthine

Selima

And blaft our common enemy, Germain:
But our invectives must despair fuccefs;
For next to praise, the values nothing lefs.

• Selima ferves her friends, relieves the poor-Help me, ye mifers! help me to complain,
، Who was it faid Selima 's near threefcore ?
At Lucia's match I from my foul rejoice,
،، The world congratulates fo wife a choice;
His lordship's rent-roll is exceeding great:
" But mortgages will fap the beft eftate.
"In Shirley's form might cherubims appear,
"But then he has a freckle on her ear."
Without a but, Hortenfia fhe tommends,
The firft of women, and the best of friends;
Owns her in perfon, wit, fame, virtue bright;
But how comes this to pals ? the died haft night.
Thus nymphs commend, who yet at fatire rail; |
Indeed that's needlefs, if fuch praise prevail;
And whence fuch praife? our virulence is thrown
On others' fame, thro' fondness for our own.

Of rank and riches proud, Cleora frowns ;
For are not coronets akin to crowns?
Her greedy eye, and her fublime address,
The height of avarice and pride confefs.
You feek perfections worthy of her rank;
Go, feek for her perfections at the bank.
By wealth unquench'd, by reason uncontroll'd,
For ever burns her facred thirst of gold.
As fond of fivepence as the veriest cit,
And quite as much detefted as a wit.

Can gold calm paffion, or make reafon fhine?
Can we dig peace or wisdom from the mine?
Wifdom to gold prefer, for 'tis much less
To make our fortune than our happiness;
That happiness which great ones often see,
With rage and wonder, in a low degree,
Themselves unbleft: the poor are only poor;
But what are they who droop amid their store?
Nothing is meaner than a wretch of state,
The happy only are the truly great.
Peafants enjoy like appetites with kings,
And those beft fatisfied with cheapest things.
Could both our Indies buy but one new fenfe,
Our envy would be due to large expence.
Since not, those pomps which to the great belong
Are but poor arts to mark them from the throng.
See, how they beg an alms of flattery!
They languish! oh fupport them with a lye!
A decent competence we fully taste;

What picture's yonder, loofen'd from its
Or is 't Aufturia, that affected dame? [frame?
The brighteft forms, thro' affectation, fade
To ftrange newthings, which nature never made;
Frown not ye fair! fo much your sex we prize,
We hate thofe arts that take you from our eyes,
In Albucinda's native grace is feen
What you, who labour at perfection, mean:
Short is the rule, and to be learnt with eafe ;
Retain your gentle felves, and you must please.
Here might I fing of Memmia's mincing mien,
And all the movements of the foft machine:
How two red lips affected zephyrs blow,
To cool the bohea, and inflame the beau;
While one white finger and a thumb confpire
To lift the cup and make the world admire.
Tea! how I tremble at thy fatal stream!
As Lethe dreadful to the love of fame.
What devastations on thy banks are seen!
What fhades of mighty names which once have
A hecatomb of characters fupplies
Thy painted altar's daily facrifice;
H-, P-, B-, afpers'd by thee decay,
As grains of fineft fugars melt away,
And recommend thee more to mortal taste :
Scandal 's the sweet'ner of a female feast.

[been !

But this inhuman triumph fhall decline,
And thy revolving Naiads call for wine;
Spirits no longer fhall ferve under thee;
But reign in thy own cup, exploded tea!
Citronia's nofe declares thy ruin nigh;
And who dares give Citronia's nofe the lye?

The ladies long at men of drink exclaim'd,
Andwhatimpair'd both health and virtueblam'd.
At length, to rescue man, the gen'rous lass
Stole from her confort the pernicious glass.
As glorious as the British queen renown'd,
Who fuck'd thepoison from herhusband's wound.
Nor to the glafs alone are nymphs inclin'd,
But ev'ry bolder vice of bold mankind.

O Juvenal! for thy feverer rage, It ftrikes our fenfe, and gives a conftant feaft : To lath the ranker follies of our age ! More, we perceive by dint of thought alone; Are there among the females of our ifle The rich must labour to poffefs their own, Such faults at which it is a fault to smile? To feel their great abundance; and request There are. Vice, once by modeft nature chain'd, Their humble friends to help them to be bleft; And legal ties, expatiates unreftrain'd; To fee their treasures, hear their glory told, Without thin decency held up to view, And aid the wretched impotence of gold.[divine, Naked she stalks o'er law and gofpel too. But fome,great fouls! and touch'd withwarmth Our matrons lead fuch exemplary lives, Give gold a price, and teach its beams to fhine. Men figh in vain for none but for their wives; All boarded treafures they repute a load, på | Who marry to be free to range the more, Nor think their wealth their own,. till well beGrand refervoirs of public happiness, [ftow'd. Taro fecret streams diffufively they blefs;[view, And while their bounties glide conceal'd from Relieve our wants, and fpare our blushes too. But fatire is my task, and these destroy Her gloomy province and malignant joy.

And wed one man to wanton with a score.
Abroad too kind, at home 'tis stedfast hate,
And one eternal tempeft of debate.
What foul eruptions from a look moft meek!
What thunders bursting from a dimpled cheek!
| Their paffions bear it with a lofty hand ;
But then their reason is at due command.

Solem quis dicere falfum audeat? VIRGIL,
E e 2

Is

Is there whom you deteft, and feek his life? "Let priefts do fomething for their one in ten;
Truft no foul with the fecret-but his wife. "It is their trade; fo far they're honeft men.
Wives wonder that their conduct I condemn," Let them canton,fince they have got the knack,
And ask, what kindred is a spouse to them? "And drefs theirnotionslikethemselvesinblack;
What fwarms of am'rous grandmothers I fee," Fright us with terrors of a world unknown
And miffes, ancient in iniquity! [ing!" From joys of this, to keep them all their own.
What blafting whifpers, and what loud declaim." Of earth's fair fruits, indeed, they claim a fee;
Whatlying,drinking,bawding, fwearing,gaming!" But then they leave our untith'd virtue free.
"Virtue's a pretty thing to make a fhow:
"Did ever mortal write like Rochefoucault?"
Thus pleads the Devil's fair apologist,
And pleading, fafely enters on his lift.

Let angel forms angelic truths maintain ;
Nature disjoins the beauteous and profane.
For whit 's true beauty but fair virtue's face.
Virtue made visible in outward grace?
She, then, that's haunted with an impious mind,
The more thecharms themoresheshocksmankind.
But charms decline; the fair long vigils keep;
They fleep no more! Quadrille has murder'd
fleep.

Friendship fo cold, fuch warm incontinence,
Such griping av'rice, fuch profufe expence,
Such dead devotion, fuch a zeal for crimes,
Such licens'd ill, fuch mafquerading times,
Such venal faith, fuch misapplied applause,
Such flatter'd guilt, and fuch inverted laws,
Such diffolution thro' the whole I find,
'Tis not a world, but chaos of mankind. [belle
Since Sundays have no balls, the well-drefs'd
Shines in the pew, but fmiles to hear of hell;
And cafts an eye of fweet difdain on all
Who liften lefs to C-ns than St. Paul.
Atheists have been but rare fince nature's birth;
Till now, the-atheists ne'er appear'd on earth;" PoorK-p! cries Livia; I have not been there
Ye men of deep refearches, fay whence fprings "Thefe two nights; the poorcreature willdespair.
This daring character, in tim'rous things, "I hate a crowd-but to do good, you know-
Who start at feathers, from an infect fly, "And people of condition fhould bestow."
A match for nothing-but the Deity? [own Convinc'd, o'ercome, to K-p's grave matron's
But, not to wrong the fair, the Mufe muft Now fet a daughter, and now ftake a fon ; [run,
In this purfuit they court not fame alone; Let health, fame, temper, beauty, fortune fly;
But join to that a more fubftantial view And beggar half their race-through charity.
"From thinking free, to be free agents too." Immortal were we, or elfe mortal quite,
They ftrive with their own hearts, and keep
them down

In complaifance to all the fools in town.
Oh how they tremble at the name of prude!
And die with fhame at thought of being good!
For what will Artimis, the rich and gay,
What will the wits, that is, the coxcombs fay?
They heaven defy, to earth's vile dregs a flave;
Thro' cowardice moft execrably brave.
With our own judgments durft we to comply,
In virtue should we live, in glory die.
Rife then, my Mufe, in honeft fury rife!
They dread a Satire who defy the skies.

Atheists are few; moft nymphs a god-head
And nothing but his attributes dethrone. [own,
From Atheists far, they ftedfaftly believe
God is, and is almighty-to forgive.
His other excellence they 'll not dispute;
But mercy, fure, is his chief attribute.
Shall pleafures of a fhort duration chain
A lady's foul in everlasting pain?
Will the great Author us poor worms destroy,
For now and then a fip of transient joy?
No, he 's for ever in a smiling mood;
He's like themselves, or how could he be good?
And they blafpheme who blacker schemes fup-
Devout y, thus, Jehovah they depofe, [pofe.
The pure! the juft! and fet up in his stead
A Deity that's perfectly well-bred.

I lefs fhould blame this criminal delight;
But fince the gay affembly's gayeft room
Is but an upper ftory to fome tomb,
Methinks we need not our fhort beings fhun,
And, thought to fly, content to be undone:
We need not buy our ruin with our crime,
And give eternity to murder time.

The love of gaming is the worst of ills;
With ceafelefs forms the blacken'd foul it fills;
Inveighs at heaven, neglects the ties of blood,
Deftroys the pow'r and will of doing good;
Kills health, pawns honour, plunges in difgrace,
And, what is still more dreadful, fpoils your face.
See yonder fet of thieves that live on spoil,
The fcandal and the ruin of our isle!
And fee (ftrange fight!) amid that ruffian band,
A form divine high wave her fnowy hand;
That rattles loud a small enchanted box,
Which loud as thunder on the board the knocks.
And as fierce storms, which earth's foundation
From Bolus's cave impetuous broke, [fhook,
From this fmall cavern a mix'd tempeft flies,
Fear, rage, convulfion, tears, oaths, blafphemies!
For men, I mean, the fair difcharges none;
She, guiltless creature! fwears to Heaven alone.

See her eyes tart, cheeks glow, and muscles Like the mad maid in the Cumean cell. [fwell! Thus that divine one her foft nights employs! Thus tunes her foul to tender nuptial joys t "Dear Tillotion!-be fure the best of men- And when the cruel morning calls to bed, "Nor thought he more than thought great Ori-And on her pillow lays her aching head, "Tho' once upon a time he misbehav'd-[gen. With the dire images her dreams are crown'd, "Poor Satan! doubtless he'll at length be fav'd. The die fpins lovely, or the cards go round :

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Imaginary ruin charms her still;

Her happy lord is cuckold by Spadille;
And, if the's brought to bed, 'tis ten to one,
He marks the forehead of her darling fon.

Oh scene of horror, and of wild despair!
Why is the rich Artides' fplendid heir
Conftrain'd to quit his ancient lordly feat,
And hide his glories in a mean retreat?
Why that drawn fword? and whence that difmal
Why pale distraction thro' the family? [cry?
See my lord threatens and my lady weep,
And trembling fervants from the tempeft creep.
Why that gay fon to diftant regions fent?
What fiends that daughter's deftin'd match pre-
Why the whole house in fudden ruin laid? [vent?
Oh nothing but-last night my lady play'd.
But wanders not my Satire from her theme?
Is this too owing to the love of fame ?
Tho' now your hearts on lucre are bestow'd;
'Twas firft a vain devotion to the mode.
Nor cease we here, fince 'tis a vice fo ftrong,
The torrent fweeps all womankind along.
This may be faid in honour of our times,

'Midt empire's charms, how Carolina's heart
Glows with a love of virtue and of art!
Her favor is diffus'd to that degree,
Excefs of goodness! it has dawn'd on me,
When in my page, to balance num'rous faults,
Or god-like deeds were fhewn, or gen'rous
thoughts,

She fmil'd, induftrious to be pleas'd, nor knew
From whom my pen the borrow'd luftre drew.
Thus the majestic mother of mankind,
To her own charms most amiably blind,
On the green margin innocently stood,
And gaz'd indulgent on the crystal flood,
Survey'd the ftranger in the painted wave,
And fmiling prais'd the beauties which she gave.

In more than civil war,while patriots storm;
While genius is but cold, their paflion warm;
While public good aloft, in pomp, they wield;
And private int'reft fkulks behind the fhield:
While Mift and Wilkins rife in weekly might,
Make preffes groan, lead fenators to fight;
Exalt our coffee with lampoons, and treat
The pamper'd mob with minifters of state:

"Cries havoc, and lets loofe the dogs of ink:"
Nor rank nor fex escapes the gen'ral frown,
But ladies are ripp'd up and cits knock'd down:
Tremendous force! where even the victor bleeds;
And he deferves our pity that fucceeds:
Immortal Juvenal! and thou of France!
In your fam'd field my Satire dares advance;
But cuts herself a track to you unknown;
Nor crops your laurel, but would raise her own:
A bold adventure! but a fafe one too!
For though surpass'd, I am surpass'd by you.

SATIRE VII.

That none nowftand diftinguish'd bytheircrimes." While Até,hot from hell makes heroes fhrink,
If fin you muft, take nature for your guide,
Love has fome foft excuse to foothe your pride;
Ye fair apoftates from love's ancient pow'r!
Can nothing ravish but a golden fhow'r?
Can cards alone your glowing fancy feize?
Muft Cupid learn to punt, ere he can pleate?
When you're enamour'd of a lift or caft,
What can the preacher more to make us chafte?
Can fame, like a repique, the foul entrance!
And what is virtue to the lucky chance?
Why muft strong youths unmarried pine away?
They find no woman difengag'd-from play.
Why pine the married? oh leverer fate!
They find from play no difengag'd-estate.
Flavia, at lovers falfe untouch'd, and hard,
Turns pale and trembles at a cruel card.
Nor Arria's Bible can fecure her age;
Her threefcore years are thuffling with her page:
While death ftands by but till the game is done,
To fweep that ftake in justice long his own;
Like old cards ting'd with fulphur fhe takes fire;
Or, like fnuffs funk in fockets, blazes higher.
Ye gods! with new delights infpire the fair;
Or give us fons, and fave us from despair!
Sons, brothers, fathers, husbands, tradefmen,
clofe

In my complaint, and brand your fins in profe:
Yet I believe as firmly as my creed,
In fpite of all our wifdom, you'll proceed.
Our pride fo great, our paffion is so strong,
Advice to right confirms us in the wrong.
I hear you cry, "This fellow's very odd!"
When you chaftife, who would not kifs the rod?
But I've a charm your anger fhall control,
And turn your eyes with coldness on the vole.
The charm begins! To yonder flood of light
That bursts o'er gloomy Britain, turn your fight.
What guardian pow'ro'erwhelms your foul with
Her deeds are precepts, her example law. [awe?
• Milton.

To the Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole. Carmina tum melius, cum venerit Ipfe, canemus.

VIRG.

ON this laft labour, this my clofing ftrain,
Smile, Walpole, or the Nine inspire in vain.
To thee 'tis due; that verfe how juftly thine,
Where Brunswick's glory crowns the whole
defign!

That glory which thy counfels make fo bright,
That glory which on thee reflects a light.
Illuftrious commerce, and but rarely known!
To give and take a luftre from the throne.

Nor think that thou art foreign to my theme;
The fountain is not foreign to the ftream.
How all mankind will be furpris'd to fee
This food of British folly charg'd on thee!
Yet, Britain, whence this caprice of thy fons,
Which thro' their various ranks with fury runs?
The caufe is plain, a caufe which we must blefs;
For caprice is the daughter of success,
(A bad effect, but from a pleafing caufe)
And gives our rulers undefign'd applause;
Tells how their conduct bids our wealth increase
And lulls us in the downy lap of peace.

While I furvey the bleffins of our ille,
Her arts triumphant in the Royal smile,
+ Shakespeare.

Lucan.

Ee 3

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Her public wounds bound up, her credit high,
Her commerce fpreading fails in ev'ry sky,
The pleasing fcene recalls my theme again,
And fhews the madnefs of ambitious men,
Who, fond of bloodshed, draw the murd'ring
fword,

And burn to give mankind a fingle lord.

The follies paft are of a private kind, Their fphere is small, their mifchief is confin'd: But daring men there are (awake my Mufe! And raise thy verfe) who bolder phrenzy choose; Who, ftung by glory, rave and bound away; Theworld then friend,andhumankindtheirprey. The Grecian chief, th' enthufiaft of his pride, With Rage and Terror ftalking by his fide, Raves round the globe; he foars into a god! Stand faft, Olympus! and fuftain his nod. The peft divine-in horrid grandeur reigns, And thrives on mankind's miferies and pains. What flaughter'd hofts! what cities in a blaze! What wafted countries! and what crimson feas! With orphans' tears his impious bowl o'erflows, And cries of kingdoms lull him to repose.

And cannot thrice ten hundred years unpraise The boift'rous boy, and blast his guilty bays? Why want we then encomiums on the ftorm, Or famine, or volcano? they perform Their mighty deeds; they, hero-like, can flay, And spread their ample deserts in a day. O great alliance! O divine renown! With dearth and peftilence to fhare the crown. When men extol a wild destroyer's name, Earth's Builder and Preferver they blafpheme. One to deftroy is murder by the law; And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe. To murder thousands, takes a fpecious name, War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame. When after battle I the field have feen [men, Spread o'er with ghaftly fhapes, which once were A nation crush'd! a nation of the brave! A realm of death! and on this fide the grave! Are there, faid I, who from this fad furvey, This human chaos, carry fmiles away? How did my heart with indignation rife! How honeft nature fwell'd into my eyes! How was I fhock'd, to think the hero's trade Of fuch materials fame and triumph made!

How guilty thefe! yet not lefs guilty they Who reach falfe glory by a smoother way; Who wrap deftruction up in gentle words, And bows,and fmiles,more fatal thantheirfwords; Who ftifle nature, and subsist on art ; Who coin the face, and petrify the heart All real kindness for the flow difcard, As marble polish'd and as marble hard; Who do for gold what Chriftians do thro' grace, "With open arms their enemies embrace;" Who give a nod when broken hearts repine; "The thinnest food on which a wretch can dine," Or, if they ferve you, ferve you difinclin'd;' And, in their height of kindness, are unkind. Such courtiers were, and fuch again may be, Walpole, when men forget to copy thee.

Here cease, my Mufe! the catalogue is writ, Nor one more candidate for fame admit;

Tho' disappointed thousands justly blame
Thy partial pen, and boast an equal claim,
Be this their comfort-fools omitted here
May furnish laughter for another year.
Then let Crifpino, who was ne'er refus'd
The justice yet of being well abus'd,
With patience wait, and be content to reign
The pink of puppies in fome future ftrain;

Some future ftrain, in which the Muse shall tell How fcience dwindles, and how volumes fwell; How commentators each dark paffage thun, And hold their farthing candle to the fun; How tortur'd texts to speak our fenfe are made, And ev'ry vice is to the scripture laid;

Howmifers fqueeze ayoungvolumptuous peer, His fins to Lucifer not half fo dear;

How Verfus is lefs qualified to fteal With fword and piftol, than with wax and feal; How lawyers' fees to fuch excefs are run, That clients are redress'd till they're undone: How one man's anguish is another's sport, And ev'n denials coft us clear at court; How man eternally falfe judgments makes, And all his joys and forrows are mistakes.

This fwarm of themes that fettles on my pen, Which I, like fummer-flies, shake off again, Let others fing; to whom my weak essay But founds a prelude, and points out their prey. That duty done, I halten to complete My own defigns; for Tonfon's at the gate.

The love of fame, in its effects furvey'd, The Mufe has fung; he now the caufe display'd, Since fo diffufive and fo wide its fway, What is this Pow'r whom all mankind obey?

Shot from above, by Heav'ns indulgence came This, gen'rous ardour, this unconquer'd flame, To warm, to raife, to deify mankind, Still burning brightest in the nobleft mind. By large-foul'd men,for thirst of fame renown'd, Wife laws were fram'd, and fecret arts were found;

Defire of praise first broke the patriot's reft, And made a bulwark of the warrior's breaft; It bids Argyle in fields and fenates shine: What more can prove its origin divine?

But, oh! this paffion planted in the foul, On eagles wings to mount her to the pole, The flaming minister of virtue meant, Set up falfe gods, and wrong'd her high defcent.

Ambition, hence, exerts a doubtful force, Of blots and beauties an alternate fource; Hence Gildon rails, the raven of the pit, Who thrives upon the carcafes of wit: And in art-loving Scarborough is feen How kind a patron Pollio might have been. Pursuit of fame with pedants fills our schools, And into coxcombs burnishes our fools; Purfuit of fame makes folid learning bright, And Newton lifts above a mortal height: That key of nature, by whofe wit the clears Her long, long fecrets of five thousand years.

Would you then fully comprehend the whole Why, and in what degrees, Pride fways the foul? (For, tho' in all not equally fhe reigns) Awake to knowledge, and attend my ftrains.

Ye

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