Gold, imp'd by thee, can compass hardest things,
Can pocket States, can fetch or carry Kings;
A fingle leaf fhall waft an Army o'er,
Or fhip-off Senates to some distant Shore;
A leaf, like Sibyl's, fcatter to and fro

Our fates and fortunes, as the wind fhall blow:
Pregnant with thousands flits the Scrap unfeen,
And filent fells a King, or buys a Queen.

45

50

Oh! that fuch bulky Bribes as all might fee, Still, as of old, incumber'd Villainy! Could France or Rome divert our brave defigns, With all their brandies, or with all their wines? What could they more than Knights and 'Squires confound,

Or water all the Quorum ten miles round?

A ftatefman's flumbers how this fpeech would fpoil! 55 "Sir, Spain has fent a thousand jars of oil; "Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door; "A hundred oxen at your levee roar."

Poor Avarice one torment more would find; Nor could Profufion fquander all in kind. Aftride his cheese Sir Morgan might we meet : And Worldly crying coals from street to street, Whom, with a wig so wild, and mien fo maz'd, Pity mistakes for fome poor tradesman craz`d.

60

Had

VARIATION.

After ver. 50. in the MS.

To break a truft were Peter brib'd with wine,
Peter! 'twould pose as wife a head as thine.

Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and hogs, 65
Could he himself have fent it to the dogs?

His Grace will game: to White's a Bull be led,
With fpurning heels and with a butting head.
To White's be carry'd, as to ancient games,
Fair Courfers, Vafes, and alluring Dames.
Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he fweep,
Bear home fix Whores, and make his Lady weep?

Or foft Adonis, fo perfum'd and fine,

Drive to St. James's a whole herd of fwine?

Oh filthy check on all induftrious skill,

70

75

To spoil the nation's laft great trade, Quadrille!
Since then, my Lord, on fuch a World we fall,

What fay you? B. Say? Why take it, Gold and all. P. What Riches give us, let us then inquire?

Meat, Fire, and Cloaths. B. What more? P. Meat,

Cloaths, and Fire.

Is this too little? would you more than live?
Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds they give.
Alas! 'tis more than (all his vifions past)
Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at last!
What can they give? to dying Hopkins, Heirs ;
To Chartres, Vigour; Japhet, Nose and Ears?
Can they, in gems bid pallid Hippia glow,
In Fulvia's buckle eafe the throbs below;
Or heal, old Narfes, thy obfcener ail,

With all th' embroidery plaifter'd at thy tail?

VARIATION.

Ver. 77. Since then, &c.] In the former Ed.

Well then, fince with the world we stand or fall,
Come take it, as we find it, Gold and all.

80

85

༡༠

They

They might (were Harpax not too wife to spend)
Give Harpax felf the bleffing of a Friend ;
Or find fome Doctor that would fave the life
Of wretched Shylock, fpite of Shylock's Wife:
But thousands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a College, or a Cat.

To fome, indeed, Heaven grants the happier fate,
T'enrich a Bastard, or a Son they hate.

95

Perhaps you think the Poor might have their part, Bond damns the Poor, and hates them from his heart; grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule

The
That every man in want is knave or fool:

"God cannot love (fays Blunt, with tearless eyes)
"The wretch he ftarves"-and piously denies :
But the good Bishop, with a meeker air,
Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care.
Yet to be just to these poor men of pelf,
Each does but hate his neighbour as himself:
Damn'd to the Mines, an equal fate betides
The Slave that digs it, and the Slave that hides.
B. Who fuffer thus, mere Charity should own,
Muft act on motives powerful, though unknown.

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110

P. Some War, fome Plague, or Famine, they foresee, Some Revelation hid from you and me.

Why Shylock wants a meal, the cause is found,
He thinks a Loaf will rife to fifty pound.
What made Directors cheat in Scuth-fea year?
To live on Venifon when it fold fo dear.
Ask you why Phrine the whole Auction buys?
Phryne forefees a general Excife.

115

120

Why

Why she and Sappho raise that monstrous fum ?
Alas! they fear a man will coft a plum.

125

130

Wife Peter fees the World's refpect for Gold, And therefore hopes this Nation may be fold: Glorious Ambition! Peter, fwell thy ftore, And be what Rome's great Didius was before. The Crown of Poland, venal twice an age, To juft three millions stinted modeft Gage. But nobler fcenes, Maria's dreams unfold, Hereditary Realms, and worlds of Gold. Congenial fouls; whose life one Avarice joins, And one fate buries in th' Afturian Mines. Much-injur'd Blunt! why bears he Britain's hate? A wizard told him in these words our fate: "At length Corruption, like a general flood, "(So long by watchful Minifters withstood) "Shall deluge all; and Avarice, creeping on, "Spread like a low-born mist, and blot the Sun; "Statesman and Patriot ply alike the Stocks, "Peerefs and Butler fhare alike the Box, "And Judges job, and Bishops bite the town,

"And mighty Dukes pack cards for half a crown. "See Britain funk in lucre's fordid charms,

135

140

“And France reveng'd of ANNE's and EDWARD'S "arms!"

'Twas no Court-badge, great Scrivener, fir'd thy brain, Nor lordly Luxury, nor City Gain :

No, 'twas thy righteous end, asham'd to fee
Senates degenerate, Patriots difagree,

And

And nobly wishing Party-rage to cease,
To buy both fides, and give thy Country peace.

"All this is madness," cries a fober sage :
But who, my friend, has reason in his rage?
"The Ruling Passion, be it what it will,
"The Ruling Paffion conquers reason still."
Lefs mad the wildest whimsey we can frame,
Than even that Paffion, if it has no Aim;
For though fuch motives Folly you may call,
The Folly's greater to have none at all.

150

155

Hear then the truth: "'Tis Heaven each Paffion

"fends,

"And different men directs to different ends.
"Extremes in Nature equal good produce,
"Extremes in Man concur to general use."
Ask we what makes one keep, and one beftow?
That Power who bids the ocean ebb and flow,
Bids feed-time, harvest, equal course maintain,
Through reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain,
Builds Life on Death, on Change Duration founds,
And gives th' eternal wheels to know their rounds.
Riches, like infects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their feason fly.
Who fees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward steward for the Poor;
This year a Refervoir, to keep and fpare;
The next, a Fountain, fpouting through his Heir,
In lavish streams to quench a Country's thirst,
And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.

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165

170

175

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