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PAR T I.
the word : the cruel arrow sped ; FA
And Pope lies number'd with the mighty Dead! Resign’d he fell ; superior to the dart, That quench'd its rage in Yours and Britain's Heart: You mourn: but Britain, lull’d in rest profound,
5 (Unconscious Britain !) Numbers o'er her wound. Exulting Dulness ey'd the setting Light, And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the Night: Rous'd at the signal, Guilt collects her train, And counts the Triumphs of her growing reign : With inextinguishable rage they burn : And Snake-hung Envy hisses o'er his Urn : Th’envenom'd Monsters fpit their deadly foam, To blast the Laurel that surrounds his Tomb. But You, O Warburton! whose
15 Can see the greatness of an honest mind; Can see each Virtue and each Grace unite, And taste the Raptures of a pure Delight; You visit oft his awful Page with Care, And view that bright assemblage treasur'd there; You trace the Chain that links his deep design, And pour new lustre on the glowing Line. Yet deign to hear the efforts of a Muse, Whose eye, not wing, his ardent Alight pursues: Intent from this great Archetype to draw Satire's bright Form, and fix her equal Law;
Pleas'd if from hence th' unlearn'd may comprehend, And reverence His and Satire's generous End.
In every breast there burns an active fame, The Love of Glory, or the Dread of Shame :
30 The Passion One, though various it appear, As brighten'd into Hope, or dimm'd by Fear. The lisping Infant, and the hoary Sire, And Youth and Manhood feel the heart-born fire : The Charms of Praise the Coy, the Modest woo, 35 And only fly, that Glory may pursue: She, Power resistless, rules the wise and great ; Bends ev'n reluctant Hermits at her feet; Haunts the proud City, and the lowly Shade, And sways alike the Sceptre and the Spade. 40
Thus Heaven in Pity wakes the friendly Flame, To urge Mankind on Deeds that merit Fame : But Man, vain Man, in Folly only wise, Rejects the Manna sent him from the Skies : With raptures hears corrupted Passion's call, 45 Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall. As each deceitful Shadow tempts his view, He for the imag’d Substance quits the true; Eager to catch the visionary Prize, In quest of Glory plunges deep in Vice; Till madly zealous, impotently vain, He forfeits every Praise he pants to gain.
Thus ftill imperious Nature plies her part; And still her Dictates work in every heart, Each Power that sovereign Nature bids enjoy, 55 Man may corrupt, but Man can ne'er destroy.
Like mighty rivers, with restless force
And sure, the deadliest Foe to Virtue's flame,
Behold yon Wretch, by impious fashion driven, 75 Believes and trembles, while he scoffs at Heaven. By weakness strong, and bold through fear alone, He dreads the sneer by shallow Coxcombs thrown ; Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod; To man a Coward, and a Brave to God.
80 Faith, Justice, Heaven itself now quit their hold, When to false Faine the captiv’d Heart is sold : Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato dy'd; Nought could subdue his Virtue, but his Pride. Hence chaste Lucretia's Innocence betray'd Fell by that Honour which was meant its aid,
Thus Virtue sinks beneath unnumber'd woes,
Hence Satire's power: 'Tis her corrective part,
Nor boasts the Muse à vain imagin'd Power,
The Worthy court her, and the Worthless fear;