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Came Blackmore, and cry'd, “Look, all these are And so spying one who came only to gaze, my lays,
A hater of verse, and despiser of plays ; But at present I beg you'd but read my Essays." To him in great form, without any delay, Lampooners and critics rush'd in like a tide,
(Though a zealous fanatic) presented the bay. Stern Dennis and Gildon came first side-by side. All the wits stood astonish'd at hearing the god Apollo confess'd that their lashes had stings, So gravely pronounce an election so oud ; But beadles and hangmen were never chose kings. And though Prior and Pope only laugh'd in his face, Steele long had so cunningly manag'd the town,
Most others were ready to sink in the place. He could not be blam'd for expecting the crown; Yet some thought the vacancy open was kept, Apollo demurr'd as to granting his wish,
Concluding the bigot would never accept : But wish'd him good luck in his project of fish. But the hypocrite told them, he well understood, Lame Congreve, unable such things to endure,
Though the function was wicked, the stipend was
good. Of Apollo begg'd either a crown or a cure; To refuse such a writer, Apollo was loth,
At last in rush'd Eusden, and cry'd, “ Who shall And almost inclin'd to have granted him both.
have it, When Buckingham came, he scarce card to be Apollo begg'd pardon, and granted his claim;
But I, the true laureat, to whom the king gave it?" seen, Till Phæbus desir'd his old friend to walk in;
But vow'd though, till then he ne'er heard of his
ON THE TIMES.
Since in vain our parsons teach,
Vice has lost its very name, And said he would choose him, but that he should
Skill and cozenage thought the same; fear
Only playing well the game.
Foul contrivances we see
Which an aukward child afford
Enough to wed the greatest lord.
The miser starves to raise a son, To Shippen, Apollo was cold with respect,
But, if once the fool is gone, Since he for the state could the Muses neglect :
Years of thrift scarce serve a day, But said, in a greater assembly he shin'd,
Rake-hell squanders all away.
Husbands seeking for a place,
By petticoats and play:
Carrying girls to comedies,
Having first at sermon slept,
Tedious day is weekly kept Most authors will praise whatsoever's their own.”
By worse hypocrites than men, When Philips came forth, as starch as a Quaker,
Till Monday comes to cheat again. Whose simple profession's a Pastoral-maker;
Ev'n among the noblest-born, Apollo advis'd him from playhouse to keep,
Moral virtue is a scorn; And pipe to nought else but his dog and his sheep.
Gratitude, but rare at best,
And fidelity a jest.
Sinking side, or falling friend.
Prais'd and wounded, he may starve:
No receipt, to make him rise,
Like inventing loyal lies. callBut at last he grew wanton, and laugh'd at them all :
In arts of peace, and fields of fame,
To ill and idleness inclin'd, 3 Dr. Atterbury, bishop of Rochester.
Now are grown a public shame.
BANISHED TO BRUSSELS.
Fatal that intestine jar,
ON THE DEITY,
WRETCHED mankind ! void of both strength and
Among thein none, alas! more weak than I,
And none more blind : though still I worthless
But zealous heat exalts the humblest mind;
feel a strange impulse, a strong desire, Within my soul such strong impulse I find (For what vain thoughts will not a Muse inspire?) 'The heavenly tribute of due ] raise to pay : To sing on lofty subjects, and to raise
Perhaps 'tis sacred, and I must obey.
Yet such the subjects, various, and so high,
Stupendous wonders of the Deity!
Miraculous effects of boundless power !
All these so numbe rless my thoughts attend,
Oh where shall I begin, or ever end?
But on that theme which ev’n the wise abuse,
"Vhile others vainly strive to know thee more, Women thermselves will venture in a rage :
Let me in silent reverence adore; But in the midst of all that furious heat,
Wishing that human power were bigher rais'd, While so intent on actions brave and great,
Only that thine might be more nokly prais'd! For others' lives to feel such tender fears,
Thrice happy angels in their high degree,
Created worthy of extolling thee!
TO THE ALTERATION OF JULIUS CÆSAR.
Hope to mend Shakespeare ! or to match his style! None but Turenne with York could glory sliare, And none but York deserves so great a master's Tis such a jest would make a Stoc smile.
Too fond of fame, our poet soars too high, Scarce was he come to bless his native isle,
Yet freely owns he wants the wings to fly : And reap the soft reward of glorious toil,
So sepsible of his presumptuous thought, But, like Alcides, still new dangers call
That he confesses while he does the fault;
This to the fair will no great wonder prove,
Who oft in blushes yield to what they love.
Of greatest actions, and of noblest men,
This story most deserves a poet's pen : (Where Mars himself does frowningly coinmand,
For who can wish a scene more justly fam'd, And by lieutenants only fights at land)
When Rome and mighty Julius are but nam'd !
That state of heroes who the world had brav'd!
That wondrous man who such a state enslay'd!
And after govern'd with so mild a sway,
At distance now of seventeen hundred years,
Methinks a lovely ravisher appears ;
Whom, though forbid by virtue to excuse,
A nymph might pardon, and could scarce refuse,
CHORUSES IN JULIUS CÆSAR,
Whither is Roman honour gone?
Where is your ancient virtue now? The cheerful sight our fainting courage warms,
That valour, which so bright has shone, Fix'd upon that we fear no future barms.
And with the wings of conquest flown,
Must to a haughty master bow:
Who, with our toil, our blood, and all we have beside, • The mareschal de Turenne.
Gorges his ill-got power, his humour,and his pride.
Fearless he will his life expose;
SECOND. So does a lion or a bear.
To kill a man, His very virtues threaten those,
The greatest since mankind began : Who more his hold ambition fear.
Learned, eloquent, and wise,
Generous, merciful, and brave!
Yet not too great a sacrifice,
The liberty of Romne to save.
But will not goodness claim regard,
And does not worth Jeserve reward ?
Though dreadful be this doom of fate, Out of Pride or Envy's way;
Just is that power which governs all :
Better this wondrous man should fall,
BOTH SPIRITS TOGETHER.
How great a curse has Providence Lo! to prerent this mighty empire's doom,
Thought fit to cast on human kind ! From bright unknown abodes of bliss I come,
Learning, courage, eloquence, The aaful genius of majestic Rome.
The gentlest nature, noblest mind,
Were interinixt in one alone;
Yet in one moment overthrown.
Could chance, or senseless atoms, join
To form a soul so great as his? 'Tis hard, a man so great should fall so low; Or would those powers we hold divine More hard to let so brave a people bow
Destroy their own chiet master-piece ? To one themselves have rais'd, who scorns them where so much difficulty lies,
The doubtful are the only wise. Yet, oh! I grieve that Brutus should be stain'd, And, what must more perplex our thoughts, Whose life, excepting this one act, remain'd
Great Jove the best of Romans sends, So pure, that future times will think it feign'd. To do the very worst of faults,
And kill the kindest of his friends. Bat only he can make the rest combine;
All this is far ab,ve our reach,
Whatever priests presume to preach.
TO MARCUS BRUTUS. To bring the bold usurper to his end :
OUR But for bis country Brutus stabs bis friend.
scene is Athens. And great Athens nam'd, What soul so dull as not to be infam'd? Methinks, at mentioning that sacred place,
A reverend awe appears in every face,
For men so fam'd, of such prodigious parts,
Amidst all these ye shall behold a man
The most applauded since mankind began, Telt., oh! tell me, whence arise
Out-shining ev’n those Greeks who most excel, These disorders in our skies?
Whose life was one fix'd course of doing well. Rome's great genius wildly gaz'd,
Oh! who can therefore without tears attend And the gods seemn all amaz'd.
On such a life, and such a fatal end ?
But here our autbor, besides other faults Know, in sight of this day's Sun,
Of ill expressions, and of vulgar thoughts,
Commits one crime that needs an act of grace, Such a deed is to be done,
And breaks the law of unity of place: Black enough to shroud the light
Yet to such noble patriots, overcome
By factious violence, and banish'd Rome,
Athens alone a fit retreat could yield ;
And where can Brutus fall, but in Philippi field?
BY TWO AERIAL SPIRITS.
Some critics judge ev'n love itself too mean That free-born spirits should obey
Wretches, who know not how to sway!
Late we repent our hasty choice,
In vain bemoan so quick a turn.
Hark all to Rome's united voice!
Better that we a while had borne
Ev'n all those ills which most displease,
Than sought a cure far worse than the disease.
This to the few and knowing was addrest ; And now 'tis fit I should salute the rest. Most reverend dull judges ofthe pit,
Our vows thus cheerfully we sing, By Nature curs'd with the wrong side of wit !
While martial music fires our blood ; You need not care, whate'er you see to-night, Let all the neighbouring echoes ring How ill some players act, or poets write ;
With clamours for our country's good: Should our mistakes be never so notorious, An•l, for reward, of the just gods we claim You'll have the joy of being more censorious :
A life with freedom, or a death with fame. Show your small talent then, let that suffice ye; But grow not vain upon it, I advise ye:
May Rome be freed from wars alarms, Each petty critic can objections raise,
And taxes heavy to be borne; The greatest skill is knowing when to praise.
May she beware of foreign arms,
And send them back with noble scorn :
And, for reward, &c. CHORUSES IN MARCUS BRUTUS.
May she no more confide in friends,
Who nothing: farther understood,
Than only, for their private ends,
To waste her wealth, and spill her blood : Wisdom itself a guide will need :
And for reward, &c. We little thought, when Cæsar bled,
Our senators, great Jove, restrain That a worse Cesar would succeed.
From private piques, they prudence call; And are we under such a curse,
From the low thoughts of little gain, We cannot change but for the worse?
And hazarding the losing all :
And, for reward, &c.
The shining arms with haste prepare,
Then to the glorious combat fly ; The Gauls themselves, our greatest fces,
Our minds unclogg'd with farther care, Could act no mischiefs worse than those.
Except to overcome or die :
And, for reward, &c.
They fight, oppression to increase,
We for our liberties and laws; But never in his noble mind.
It were a sin to doubt success,
When freedom is the noble cause : 5 See the first and second chorụses, in the Poems. And, for reward, of the just gods we claim of Mr. Pope.
A life with freedom, or a death with fame.