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Be ever, in a just expression, bold,
253 Yet ne'er degrade fair Satire to a Scold : Let no unworthy mien her form debase, But let her smile, and let her frown with grace : In mirth be temperate, temperate in her spleen ; Nor, while she preaches modesty, obscene.
260 Deep let her wound, not rankle to a fore, Nor call his Lordship
her Grace a The Muse's charms resistless then assail, When wrapt in Irony's transparent veil : Her beauties half-conceal’d the more surprize, 26; And keener lustre sparkles in her eyes. Then be your line with sharp encomiums grac'd : Style Clodius honourable, Bufa chaste.
Dart not on Folly an indignant eye: Who e'er discharg'd Artillery on a Fly?
270 Deride not Vice: Absurd the thought and vain, To bind the Tiger in so weak a chain. Nay more: when flagrant crimes your laughter move, The Knave exults: to smile, is to approve. The Muse's labour then success shall crown, When Folly feels her smile, and Vice her frown.
Know next what measures to each Theme belong, And suit your thoughts and numbers to your fong : On wing proportion’d to your quarry rise, And stoop to earth, or soar among the skies. 280 Thus when a modish folly you rehearse, Free the expression, simple be the verse. In artless numbers paint th' ambitious Peer, That mounts the box, and shines a Charioteer :
In strains familiar sing the midnight toil
285 Of Camps and Senates disciplin’d by Hoyle ; Patriots and Chiefs, whofe deep design invades, And carries off the captive King-of Spades ! Let Satire here in milder vigour shine, And gayly graceful sport along the line;
290 Bid courtly Fashion quit her thin pretence, And smile each Affectation into sense.
Not so when Virtue by her Guards betray'd, Spurn’d from her Throne, implores the Muse's 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 Adultery 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: Then warmer numbers glow through Satire's page, And all her smiles are darken'd into rage : On eagle-wing the gains Parnassus' height, Not lofty Epic soars a nobler flight: Then keener indignation fires her eye; Then Hafh her lightnings, and her thunders fly; Wide and more wide her flaming bolts are hurlid, Till all her wrath involves the guilty World.
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 fine;
320 Where bursting glorious, with departing ray, True Genius gilds the close of Britain's Day: With joys she sees the stream of Roman art From Murray's tongue flow purer to the heart : Sees Yorke to fame, ere yet to Manhood known, 32; And just to every virtue, but his own; Hears unstain'd Cam with generous pride proclaim A Sage's, Critic's, and a Poet's name: Beholds, where Widcombe's happy hills ascend, Each orphan’d Art and Virtue find a friend :
330 To Hagley's honour'd shade directs her view; And culls each flower to form a Wreath for you.
But tread with cautious step this dangerous ground, Beset with faithlefs precipices round: Truth be your guide : disdain Ambition's call;
335 And if you fall with Truth, you greatly fall. 'Tis Virtue's native lustre that must shine; The Poet can but set it in his line: And who unmoy'd with laughter can behold A sordid pebble meanly grac'd with gold ? 34 Let real Merit then adorn your lays, For Shame attends on prostituted praise : And all your wit, your most distinguish'd art, Bat makes us grieve you want an honest heart.
Nor think the Mufe by Satire's Law confin’d:
PART PART III.
HROUGH Ages thus has Satire keenly shin’d,
The Friend to Truth, to Virtue, and Mankind : Yet the bright flame from Virtue ne'er had sprung, And Man was guilty ere the Poet sung. This Mufe in silence joy'd each better Age, 365 Till glowing crimes had wak'd her into rage. Truth saw her honest spleen with new delight, And bade' her wing her shafts, and urge their flight. First on the Sons of Greece she prov'd her art, And Sparta felt the fierce Iambic dart.
370 To Latium next, avenging Satire flew : The flaming falchion rough Lucilius drew; With dauntless warmth in Virtue's cause engag’d, And conscious Villains trembled as he rag'd.
Then sportive Horace caught the generous fire; 375 For Satire's bow resign’d the founding lyre : Each arrow polish’d in his hand was seen, And, as it grew more polish’d, grew more keen. His art, conceal'd in study'd negligence, Politely fly, cajold the foes of sense : He seem'd to sport and trifle with the dart, But, while he sported, drove it to the heart. In graver
strains majestic Persius wrote, Big with a ripe exuberance of thought : Greatly sedate, contemn'd a Tyrant's reign, 385 And lash'd Corruption with a calm disdain.