While Thales waits the wherry, that contains
Of dissipated wealth the small remains,

On Thame's bank in silent thought we stood,
Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood;
Struck with the seat that gave Eliza* birth,
We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth,
In pleasing dreams the blissful age renew,
And call Britannia's glories back to view;
Behold her cross triumphant on the main,
The guard of commerce, and the dread of Spain,
Ere masquerades debauch'd, excise oppress'd,
Or English honour grew a standing jest.

A transient calm the happy scenes bestow,
And for a moment lull the sense of wo—
At length awaking, with contemptuous frown,
Indignant Thales eyes the neighbouring town:
Since worth, he cries, in these degenerate days,
Wants even the cheap reward of empty praise;
In those curs❜d walls, devote to vice and gain,
Since unrewarded science toils in vain;
Since hope but soothes to double my distress,
And every moment leaves my little less;
While yet my steady steps no staff sustains,
And life, still vigorous, revels in my veins-
Grant me, kind Heaven, to find some happier place,
Where honesty and sense are no disgrace;

* Queen Elizabeth.

Some pleasing bank where verdant osiers play, Some peaceful vale with nature's painting gay, Where once the harassed Britain found repose, And safe in poverty defied his foes:

Some secret cell, ye powers indulgent, give, has learned to live:

Let

live here, for

Here let those reign whom pensions can incite
To vote a patriot black, a courtier white;
Explain their country's dear-bought rights away,
And plead for pirates in the face of day;
With slavish tenets taint our poisoned youth,
And lend a lie the confidence of truth-
Let such raise palaces, and manors buy,
Collect a tax, or farm a lottery;

With warbling eunuchs fill our silenced stage,
And lull to servitude a thoughtless age:
Heroes,proceed! what bounds your pride shall hold?
What check restrain your thirst for pow'r and gold?
Behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown-
Behold our fame, our wealth, our lives your

own!

To such the plunder of a land is given, When publick crimes inflame the wrath of Heav'n. But what, my friend, what hope remains for me, Who start at theft, and blush at perjury? Who scarce forbear, tho' Britain's court he sing, To pluck a titled poet's borrow'd wing;

A statesman's logick unconvinc'd can hear,
And dare to slumber o'er the Gazetteer;
Despise a fool in half his pension dress'd,
And strive in vain to laugh at Clodio's jest?
Others, with softer smiles, or subtler art,
Can sap the principles, or taint the heart;
With more address, a lover's note convey,
Or bribe a virgin's innocence away:

Well may they rise, while I, whose rustick tongue
Ne'er knew to puzzle right, or varnish wrong;
Spurn'd as a beggar-dreaded as a spy-

Live unregarded, unlamented die

For what but social guilt the friend endears?
Who shares Orgilio's crimes, his fortune shares:
But thou, should tempting villany present
All Marlborough hoarded, or all Villiers spent,
Turn from the glittering bribe thy scornful eye,
Nor sell for gold, what gold could never buy;
The peaceful slumber, self-approving day,
Unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay.

The cheated nation's happy favorites see!
Mark whom the great caress, who frown on me!
London, the needy villain's general home,
The common-sewer of Paris and of Rome;
With eager thirst, by folly or by fate,
Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state!

Forgive my transports on a theme like this-
I cannot bear a French metropolis:
Illustrious Edward, from the realms of day,
The land of heroes and of saints survey-
Nor hope the British lineaments to tráce,
The rustick grandeur, or the surly race;
But lost in thoughtless ease and empty show,
Behold the warrior dwindled to a beau!

Sense, freedom, piety, refined away,

Of France the mimick, and of Spain the prey!

t

All that at home no more can beg or steal,
Or like a gibbet better than a wheel;
Hissed from the stage, or hooted from the court,
Their air, their dress, their politicks import;
Obsequious, artful, voluble, and gay;
On Britain's fond credulity they prey:

No grateful trade their industry can 'scape,
They sing, they dance, clean shoes, or cure a clap:
All sciences a fasting Monsieur knows,
And bid him go to hell, to hell he goes
Ah! what avails it, that, from slavery far,
I drew the breath of life in English air;
Was early taught a Briton's right to prize,
And lisp the tale of Henry's victories;
If the gulled conqueror receives the chain,
And flattery prevails when arms are vain?

Studious to please, and ready to submit, The supple Gaul was born a parasite:

Still to his interest true where'er he goes,
Wit, bravery, worth, his lavish tongue bestows;
In every face a thousand
graces shine,
From every tongue flows harmony divine→→→→
These arts in vain our rugged natives try,
Strain out, with faltering diffidence, a lie,
And get a kick for awkward flattery.

Besides, with justice, this discerning age
Admires their wonderous talents for the stage:
Well may they venture on the mimick's art,
Who play from morn to night a borrow'd part;
Practis'd their master's notions to embrace,
Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face;
With every wild absurdity comply,
And view its object with another's eye-
To shake with laughter e'er the jest they hear,
To pour at will the counterfeited tear;
And as their patron hints the cold or heat,
To shake in dog-days-in December sweat.
How, when competitors like these contend,
Can surly virtue hope to fix a friend?
Slaves that with serious impudence beguile,
And lie without a blush, without a smile;
Exalt each trifle, every vice adore,