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We rather should lament his case,
Who inuft obey, or lose his place.

Since this redexion nipt your pen,
Insert it when you write again:
And, to illuitrate it, produce
This fimile for his excuie :

“ Su to destroy a guilty land « An *angel sent by Heaven, command, “ While he obeys almighty will, “ Perhaps may feel compassion itill ; “ And with the tak had been allign'd To fpirits of less gentle kind."

But I, in politicks grown old,
Whose thoughts are oi a different mould,
Who from my soul sincerely hate
Both kings and minsters of Hate,
Who look on courts with stricter eyes
To see the seeds of vice arile,
Can lend you an allufion fitter,

Though flattering knaves may call it bieter ;
Which, if you durft but give it place,
Would thew you many a vatesman's face ;
Fresh from the tripod of Apollo
I had it in the words that follow
(Take notice, to avoid offence,
I here except his excellence).

“ So, to effect his monirch's ends, “ From hell a vicceroy devil ascends; « His budger with corruptions cramm’d, “ The contributions of the damn'd; " Which withi unsparing hand he ftrows « Through courts and Jenates as he goes; · « And then at Beelzebub's black hall Con plains his budget was too small."

Your fimile may better fine
In verse; but there is truth in mine.
For no imaginablc things
Can differ more than gods and kings:
And fiatfen by ten thousand odds
Are angels just as kings are gods.

The lead yon critick's quill contains,
Is deftin'd to beat out his brains:
As if he heard loud thunders roll,
Cries, Lord, have mercy on his foul!,
Concluding, that another shot
Will ftrike bim dead upon the spot.
But, when with squibbing, Hathing, popping,
He cannot see one creature dropping;
That, missing fire, or missing aim,
His life is fare; I mean his fame;
The danger pa't, takes heart of grace,
And looks a critick in the face.

Though splendour gives the faireft mark
To poison'd arrows from the dark,
Yet, in your self evhen smooth and reund,
They glance afide without a wound,

'Tis said, the gods try'd all their art,
How gain they might from pleasure part;
But little could their strength avail;
Both till are faiten'd by the tail.
Thus fame and censure with a tether
By fate are always link'd together.

Why will you aim to be preferr'd
In wit before the common herd;
And yet grow mortify'd and vex'd
To pay the penalty annex'd ?

'f'is eminence makes envy rise ;
As faireft fruits attract the flies.
Should ftupid libels grieve your mind,
You soon a remedy may find ;
Lie down obscure like other folks
Below the lath of snarlers' jokes.
Their faction is five hundred odds;
For every coxcomb lends them rods,
And sneers as learnedly as they,
Like females o'er their norning tea.

You say, the Mufe will not contain,
And write you must, or break a vein.
Then, if you find the terms too hard,
No longer my advice regard :
But raise your fancy on the wing ;
The Irish femate's praises fing;
How jealous of the nation's freedom,
And for corruptions how they weed 'em;
How each the public gond pursuess
How far their hearts from private views ;
Make all true patriots, up to thoe-boys,
Huzza their brethren at the Blue-boys;
Thus grown a member of the club,
No longer dread the rage of Grub.

How oft' am I for'rhy nie to seek!
To dress a thought, may toil a week :
And then how thankful to the town,
If all my pains will earn a crown!
Whilft every critick can deyour
My work and me in half an hour.
Would men of genius cease to write,
The rogues niuit die for want and spite ;
Muft die for want of food and raiment,
If scandal did not find them payment,
How cheersu!ly the hawkers cry
A satire, and the gentry buy!
While my hard-labour'd poem pines
Unfold upon the printer's lines.

A genius in the reverend gowo
Mult ever keep its owner downí

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What alley they are nestled in,
To flourish o'er a cup of gin ;
Find the laft garret where they lay,
Cr cellar where they starve to-day.
Suppose you had them all crepann'd,
With each a libel in his hand,
What punishment would you inflict.?
Or call the in rogues, or get them kickt?
Thele they have often try'd before;
You but oblige them to much more :
Theinfelves would be the first to tell,
To make their trash the beiter fell.

You have been libeld-Let us knov,
What fool oflicious told you so?
Will you regard the hawler's cries,
Who in his titles always lies ?
Whate'er the noisy scoundrel says,
It might be something in your praise :
And praise below'd on Grub-street rhymes
Would vex one more a thousand times.
Till criticks blame, and judges praise,
The poet cannot claim his bays.
On me when dunces are satiric,
I take it for a panegyrick.
Hated by fools, and fools to hate,
Be that my motto, and my faie.

DIRECTIONS FOR MAKING A

BIRTH-DAT SONG.

'Tis an unnatural conjunction,
And spoils the credit of the function.
Round all your brethren caft your eyes ;
Point out the fureft men to rise:
That club of candidates in black,
The least deserving of the pack,
Aspiring, factious, fierce, and loud,
With grace and learning unendow'd,
Can turn their hands to every job,
The fittest tools to work for Bob;
Will sooner coin' a thousand lies,
Than suffer men of parts to rise ;
They crowd about preferment's gate,
And press you down with all their weight.
For as, of old, mathematicians
Were by the vulgar thought magicians;
So academic dull ale-drinkers
Pronounce åll men of wit free-thinkers,

Wit, as the chief of virtue's friends,
Disdains to serve ignoble ends.
Observe what loads of ftupid rhymes
Oppress us in corrupted times :
What pamphlets in a court's defence
Shew reason, grammar, truth, or sense?
For though the Muse delights in fiction,
She ne'er inspires against conviction.
Then keep your virtue Itill unmixt,
Add let not faction come betwixt :
By party-steps no grandeur climb at,
Though it would make you England's primate :
First learn the science to be dull,
You then may soon your conscience lull;
If not, however seated high,
Your genius in your face will fly.

When Jove was from his teeming head
Of Wit's fair goddess brought to bed,
There follow'd at his lying-in
For after.birth a Sooterkin;
Which, as the nurse pursued to kill,
Attain d by Hight the Muses' hill,
There in the soil began to root,
And litter'd at Parnassus' foot,
From hence the critic vermin fprung,
With harpy claws and poisonous tongue,
Who fatten on poetic scraps,
Too cunning to be caught in traps.
Dame Nature, as the learned show,
Provides each animal its foe :
Hounds hunt the hare; the wily fox
Devours your geese, the wolf your flocks.
Thus Envy pleads a natural claim
To persecute the Muses' fame ;
On poets in all times abusive,
From Homer down to Pope inclusive.

Yet what avails it to complain?
You try to take revenge in vain.
A rat your utmost rage defies,
That safe behind the wainscot lics.
Say, did you ever know by fight
In cheese an individual mite?
Shew me the same numeric tica,
That bit your neck but yefterday :
You then may boldly go in quest
To find the Grub-treet poct's neft;
What spunging-house, in dread of jail,
Receives them, while they wait for Lail;

1729.

Torema juft and finished piece,

7 ake twenty gods of Rome or Greece, Whose godships are in chief requert, And fit your present subject beit : And, Mould it be your hero's case, To bave both male and female race, Your business must be to provide A score of goddlesies belde.

Some call their mosarchs fons of Saturn,
For which they bring a modern pattern :
Because they might have heard of one,
Who often long'd to eat bis fon :
But this, I thin', will not go down,
For here the father kept his crown.

Why, then, appoint himn fon of Jove,
Who met his mother in a grove :
To this we freely Thall content,
Well knowing what the poets meant;
And in their fenfe, 'twixt me and you,
It may be literally true.

Next, as the laws of verse require,
He mutt be greater than bis free
For Jove, as every school-boy knows,
Was able Saturn to depose :
And sure no Chriftian poet breathing
Would be more ferupulous than a Heathen!
Or, if to blasphemy it tends,
That’s but a trifle among friends.

Your Hero now another Mars is, Makes mighty armies turn their ammas. Behold his glittering falchion mow Whols squadrons at a f.ngle blow;

While Victory, with wings outspread,
Flies, like an eagle, o'er his head ;
His milk-white iteed upon its launches,
Or pawing into dead men's paunches :
As Overton bas drawn bi: fire,
Still feen o'er many an ale-house fre.
Then from his arms hoarse thunder rolls,
As loud as fifty mustard bowls;
For thunder still his arm supplies,
And lightning always in his eyes :
They both are cheap enough in conscience,
And serve to ecbo rattling nonsense.
The rumbling words march fierce along,
Made trebly, dreadful in your fung.

Sweet poet, hird for birth-day rhymes,
To sing of wars, choose peaceful times.
What though, for fifteen years and more,
Janus had lock'd his temple door;
Though not a coffee-house we read in
Hath mention'd arms on this fide Sweden ;
Nor London Journals, nor the Poitnien,
Though fond of warlike lies as most men;
Thou fill with battles ftuf thy head full :
For, muft thy hero not be dreadful?

Dilinising Mars, it next must follow,
Your conqueror is become Apollo :
That he's Apollo is as plain as
That Robin Walpole is Mecenas;
But that he struts, and that he squints,
You'd know him by Apollo's prints..
CIJ Phæbus is but half as bright,
For yours can shine both day and night.
The frit, perhaps, may onee an age
Inspire you with poetic r. ge;
Your Phu bus Royal, every day,
Not only can inspire, but pay.

Then mase this new Apollo ft Eole patron, judge, and god of wit. “ How from his altitude be ttorps “ To raise up Virtue when she diroops ; « On Learsing how his bounty Hows, « And with what jurice he beltows: « Fair Iliś, and ye banks of Cam ! « Be witness if I tell a tam. “ What prodigies in Arts we drain, « From both your streams, in George's reign. “ As from the flowery bed of Nile” But here's enough to Mew your style, Broad innuerdos, such as this, If well applied, cau hardly miss : For, when you bring your song in print, He'll get it read, and take the hint, (It inult be read before 'tis warbled, The paper gilt, and cover marbled) And will be so much more your debtor, Because he never knew a letter. And, as he hears bis wit and sense (To whiclı he never made pretence) Sct out in hyperbolic strains, A guinea st all reward your pains : For patrons never pay so well, As when they scarce have learn'd to spell.

Next call him Neptune : with his trident He rules the fea; you fee him ride in 't :

And, if provok’d, he four.dly fit!'s his
Rebellious waves with rods, ile Xerxes.
He would have seiz'd the Spanish plate,
Had not the feet gone out too late ;
And in their very ports belege them,
But that he would not disoblige them;
And make the raicals pay him dea
For those affronts they give him yearly.
'Tis not deny'd, that, when we write,
Our in k is black, our paper white ;
And, when we fcrawl our paper o'er,
We blacken what was white before:
I think this pradlice only fit
For dealers in satiric wit.
But you some white-lead ink must get,
And write on paper black as jet;
Your interest lies to learn the track
Of whitening vbat before was black.

Thus your encomiuin, to be strong,
Must he applied directly wrong.
A tyrant for his mercy praise,
And crown a royal duuce with bays:
A squinting monkey load with charms,
And paint a coward fiercc in arms.
13 he io avarice inclin'd?
Extol him for his generous mind :
And, when we farve for want of corn,
Come out with Amalthea's horn.
For all experience this evinces
The only art of pleasing princes :
For princes' love you Mould deicant
On virtues which they know they want,
One compliment I had forgot,
But forglurs muit omit it not;
I freely grant the thought is old :
Why, then, your hero must be told,
In him fiich virtues lie interent,
To qualify him God's vice gerent;
That, with no title to inherit,
He mu't have been a king by merit,
Yet, be the fancy old or new,
'Tis partly false, and partly true :
And, take it right, it means no more
Than George and William ciaim't before.

Should fome obscure inferior feilow,
Like jolins, or the Youth of Pella,
When all your lifi of Gods is out,
Presume to thew his mortal (nout,
And as a Deity intrude,
Because he had the world subdued ;
Ch, let him not de base your thoughts,
Or name him but to tell his faults,

Of Gods I only quote the best,
But you may hook-in all the rest.

Nox, Birth-day Bard, with joy porced Topraise your Empress ard her breed, Firit of the frít, to vouch your lies, Bring all the females of the fies; The Graces, and their mistress Venus, Muft venture down to entertain us : With bended knees when they adore her, What dowdies they appear before her! Nor tall we think you talk at random, For Venus might be her great-grandam :

Six thousand years lae liv'd the Goddess,
Your Heroine harvily lifty odd is.
Beldes, your fongiters oft' have shown
That the hath Graces of her own;
Three Graces by Luc na brought her,
Just thr:#, and eviry grace a daug ater.
Here may a king his heart and crown
Shali at their incwyieee lay down ;
la royal robes, th:y corn by doz?ns
To court their English German coulins :
Beides a pair of princely babies,
That, five years hence, will both be Hebes.

Now see her fcated in her throne
With genu.ne lutire, all her own :
Poor Cynthia never 1:one so bright,
Her iplendour is but borrow'd light;
And only with her Brother linkt
Can thine, without him is extinct.
But Carlina shines the clcarer
With neither spouse nor brother near her;
Arid darts her beams o’er both our ines,
Though Gcorge is gone a thousand miles,
Thus Berecynthia takes her place,
Attended by her heavenly race ;
And fees a lon in every God,
Unaw'd by Jove's all-shaking nod.

Now sing his little Highness Freddy,
Who itruts like any king already :
With so much, beauty, flew me any maid
That could refift this charming Ganymede !
Where majesty with sweetness vies,
And, like his father, early wife.
Then cut him out a world of work,
To conquer Spai., and quell the Turk:
Foretel his empire crow!’i with bays,
And golden times, a id halcyon days;
Ad fivcar his line snall rule the nation
For ever-till the confiagration,

But, now it comes into my mind,
We lert a little Duke bchiod;
A (upid in his face and liza,
And only wants to wait his eyes.
Make frone provison for the younker,
tiid bin a kingdon out to conquer :
Prepare a Hect to watt him o':r,
Make Gulliver bis commodore ;
1.: whrle pocket valiant Willy put,
Will foon lubdue the realm of Lilliput.

A kiliul critick jutily blues
Hie, tough, crank, guttural, har h, stiff names.
The fenfe can ne'er be too jejune,
But smooth your word, to ti the tune,
Hanover may do well enough,
B, George and Brunswic's are too rough.
Heli-Darmstadt males a rugged found,
8.41 Glielp the strongest ear will wound,
Ic vain are all attempts from Germany
In find out proper word, for harmony :
And yet I must except the Rhine,
B cau's it clinks to Caroline.
Hail ! Queen of Britain, Queen of rhymes !
Be sung ten hundred thousand times !

VOL. V.

Too happy were the poets' crew,
It their own happiness th:y knew :
Three fyllables did never meet
So foft, fo 1.iding, and so sweet:
Nine other tuneful words like that
Would prove ev’n Hginer's numbers fiat,
Behold three beauteous vowels itand,
With bridegroom liquids, hand in hand;
In concord here for ever fixt,
No jarring consonant betwixt.

May Caroline continue long,
For ever fair and young in song.
What though the royal carcase must,
Squeez'd in a coffin, turn to dust?
Those elements her name compose,
Like atoms, are exempt from blows.

Though Caroline inay fill your gaps,
Yet still you muit confult your maps ;
Find rivers with harmonious names,
Sebrina, Medway, and the Thames.
Britannia long will wear like steel,
But Albion's cliffs are out at heel;
And patience can endure no more
To hear tlie Belgic lion roar.
Give up the phrase of haughty Gaul,
But proud Iberia foundly maul :
Restore the ships by Philip taken,
And make him crouch to save his bacon.
Nassau, who got the name of Glorious
Because he never was victorious,
A hanger-on has always been;
For old acquainta ce bring him in.

To Walpole you might lend a line,
But much I rear he's in decline ;
And, if you chanc: to come too late,
When he goes out, you thare his fate,
And bear the new fuccefTor's frown ;
Or, whom you once fai g up, Mg down.

Reject with scorn that ftupid notion, To praise your Hero for devotion ; Nor entertain a thought so odd, That princes nould believe in God; But follow the secureft rule, And turn it all to ridicule : 'Tis grown the choicest wit at Court, And gives the maids of honour sport, For, fince they talk'd with Doctor Clarke, They now can venture in the dark: That sound Divine the truth hath spoke all, And pawu'd his word, hell is not local.

This will not give them half the trouble 1. bargaius fold, or meanings double.

Suppo frig now your song is done,
To Mynheer Hardel next you run,
Ww artiully will pare apel prune
Your worá io sone Italian tuine :
Then print it in the largest letter,
With capitals, the inore the better,
Present it boldly on your knee,
And take a guinca for your fee.

ccc

BOUTS RIMES.

ON SIGNORA DOMITILLA.

OUR

UR school-mafter may rave i'th' fit

Of classic beauty hæc illa, Not all his birch in'pires such wit

As th'ogling beams of Domitilla.
Let nobles toast, in bright champain,

Nymphs higher born than Doinitilla ;
I'll drink her health, again, again,
In Berkeley's tar, or fars-pavilla.
At Goodman's-Fields I've much admir'd

The poftures ftrange of Monseur Brilla ; But what are they to the soft step,

The gliding air, of Domitilla? Virgil has eterniz'd in song

The flying footsteps of Camilla : Sure, as a prophet, he was wrong ;

He might have dreamt of Domitilla.
Great Theodore condemn'd a town

For thinking ill of his Placilla ;
And deuce take London, if some knight

Oth' city wed not Domitilla !
Wheeler, Sir George, in travels wise,

Gives us a medal of Plantilla ;
But, oh! the empress has not eyes,

Nor lips, nor breait, like Domitilla.
Not all the wealth of plunder'd-Italy,

Pild on the mules of king At-tila,
Is worth one glove (I 'll not tell a bit a lie)

Or garter, snatch'd from Domitilla.
Five years a nymph at certain hamlet,

Y-cleped Harrow of the Hill, a. bus'd much my heart, and was a damu'd let

To verfcbut now for Domitilla, Dan Pope confignş Belinda's watch

To the fair Sylphid Momentilla, And thus I offer up my catch

To th' fnow-white hands of Domitilla.

And with boots so very greasy, And with saddles eke so easy ; And with bridles fine and gay, Bridles borrow'd for a day ; Bridles destin'd far to roam, Ah! never, never to come home, And with hats so very big, Sir ; And with powder'd caps and wigs, Sir; And with ruffles to be fhown, Cambrick ruffles not their own; And with Holland shirts fo white, Shirts becoming to the right, Shirts be-wrought with different letters, As belonging to their betters ; With their pretty tipsel'd boxes, Gotten from their dainty doxies ; And with rings so very trim, Lately taken out of lim And with very little pence, And as very little senfe ; With some law, but little justice, Having stolen from my hoitess, From the barber and the cutler, Like the foldier from the futler : From the vintner and the taylor, Like the felon from the juler ; Into this and other county, Living on the public bounty ; Thorougli town and thorough village, All to plunder, all to pillage ; Thorough mountains, thorough vallies, Thorough stinking lanes and alleys; Some to~kiss with farmers' spouses, And make merry in their houses; Some to-tumble country wenches On their rusty-beds and benches, And, if they begin a fray, Draw their swords, and run away ; All to murder equity, And to tak: a double fée ; Till the people all are quiet, And forget to broil and rint: Low in pocket, cow'd in courage, Safely glad to sup their porridge ; And Vacation's overthen, Hey, for London town again,

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