Faith, Justice, Heaven itself now quit their

hold

85

When to false fame the captived heart is sold:
Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato died;
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,
When Passions, born her friends, revolt her foes.
Hence SATIRE's power: 'tis her corrective part,
To calm the wild disorders of the heart.
She points the arduous height where Glory lies,
And teaches mad Ambition to be wise;
In the dark bosom wakes the fair desire,
Draws good from ill, a brighter flame from fire;
Strips black Oppression of her gay disguise,
And bids the hag in native horror rise;
Strikes towering Pride, and lawless Rapine dead,
And plants the wreath on Virtue's awful head.

90

95

Nor boasts the Muse a vain imagined power, Tho' oft she mourn those ills she cannot cure. 100 The worthy court her, and the worthless fear; Who shun her piercing eye, that eye revere.

Her awful voice the vain and vile obey,

And every foe to wisdom feels her sway.

Smarts, pedants, as she smiles, no more are vain ; Desponding fops resign the clouded cane:

Mais de ses faux amis il craint la raillerie,
Et ne brave ainsi Dieu que par poltronnerie.

Boileau, Ep. iii.

Hush'd at her voice, pert Folly's self is still,
And Dulness wonders while she drops her quill.
Like the arm'd BEE, with art most subtly true,
From poisonous vice she draws a healing dew. 110
Weak are the ties that civil arts can find,
To quell the ferment of the tainted mind:
Cunning evades, securely wrapp'd in wiles;
And Force, strong sinew'd, rends th' unequal toils:
The stream of vice impetuous drives along,
Too deep for policy, for power too strong.
Even fair Religion, native of the skies,
Scorn'd by the crowd, seeks refuge with the wise;
The crowd with laughter spurns her awful train,
And Mercy courts, and Justice frowns in vain. 120
But SATIRE'S shaft can pierce the harden'd breast:
She plays a ruling passion on the rest;
Undaunted storms the battery of his pride,

115

And awes the Brave that earth and heaven defied.
When fell Corruption by her vassals crown'd, 125
Derides fall'n Justice prostrate on the ground,
Swift to redress an injured people's groan,
Bold SATIRE shakes the tyrant on her throne;
Powerful as Death, defies the sordid train,
And slaves and sycophants surround in vain. 130

IMITATIONS.

Ver. 110. From poisonous vice, &c.] Alluding to these lines of Mr. Pope:

In the nice bee what art so subtly true

From poisonous herbs extracts a healing dew?

But with the friends of vice, the foes of SATIRE, All truth is spleen; all just reproof, ill-nature.

Well may they dread the Muse's fatal skill; Well may they tremble when she draws her quill; Her magic quill, that like ITHURIEL's spear, 135 Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen'd ear; Bids Vice and Folly take their natural shapes, Turns duchesses to strumpets, beaux to apes; Drags the vile whisperer from his dark abode, Till all the demon starts up from the toad.

140

145

O sordid maxim, form'd to screen the vile, That true good-nature still must wear a smile! In frowns array'd her beauties stronger rise, When love of virtue makes her scorn of vice: Where justice calls, 'tis cruelty to save; And 'tis the law's good-nature hangs the knave. Who combats virtue's foe is virtue's friend: Then judge of SATIRE'S merit by her end: To Guilt alone her vengeance stands confined, The object of her love is all mankind. Scarce more the friend of Man, the wise must own, Even ALLEN's bounteous hand, than SATIRE's frown: This to chastise, as that to bless, was given; Alike the faithful ministers of Heaven.

150

Oft in unfeeling hearts the shaft is spent: 155 Though strong th' example, weak the punishment. They least are pain'd, who merit Satire most; Folly the Laureat's, vice was Chartres' boast: Then where's the wrong, to gibbet high the name Of fools and knaves already dead to shame? 160

Oft SATIRE acts the faithful surgeon's part; Generous and kind, though painful is her art: With caution bold, she only strikes to heal; Though folly raves to break the friendly steel. Then sure no fault impartial SATIRE knows, 165 Kind even in vengeance, kind to Virtue's foes. Whose is the crime, the scandal too be theirs : The knave and fool are their own libellers.

PART II.

170

DARE
ARE nobly then: but conscious of your trust,
As ever warm and bold, be ever just:
Nor court applause in these degenerate days:
The villain's censure is extorted praise.

But chief, be steady in a noble end,
And shew mankind that truth has yet a friend.
'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write,
As foplings grin to shew their teeth are white.
To brand a doubtful folly with a smile,
Or madly blaze unknown defects, is vile:
'Tis doubly vile, when, but to prove your art,
You fix an arrow in a blameless heart.

175

180

O lost to honour's voice, O doom'd to shame,
Thou fiend accursed, thou murderer of fame!
Fell ravisher, from Innocence to tear
That name, than liberty, than life more dear!
Where shall thy baseness meet its just return? 185
Or what repay thy guilt, but endless scorn?
And know, immortal truth shall mock thy toil:
Immortal truth shall bid the shaft recoil;
With rage retorted, wing the deadly dart,
And empty all its poison in thy heart.

190

With caution next, the dangerous power apply;

An eagle's talon asks an eagle's eye: