Who for the spirit hug the Spleen,
Phylacter'd throughout all their mien,
Who their ill-tafted home-brew'd pray'r
To the state's mellow forms prefer;
Who doctrines, as infectious, fear,
Which are not steep'd in vinegar,
And famples of heart-chefted grace
Expofe in fhew-glafs of the face,
Did never me as yet provoke
Either to honour band and cloak,
Or deck my hat with leaves of oak.
I rail not with mock-patriot grace
At folks, because they are in place;
Nor, hir'd to praise with stallion per,
Serve the ear-lechery of men ;
But to avoid religious jars
The laws are my expofitors,
Which in my doubting mind create
Conformity to church and ftate.
I go, pursuant to my plan,
To Mecca with the Caravan.
And think it right in common fenfe
Both for diverfion and defence.
Reforming schemes are none of mine;
To mend the world's a vaft defign:
Like theirs, who tug in little boat,
To pull to them the ship afloat,
While to defeat their labour'd end,
At once both wind and stream contend:
Succefs herein is feldom feen,
And zeal, when baffled, turns to Spleen.
Happy the man, who, innocent,
Grieves not at ills he can't prevent ;
His skiff does with the current glide,
Not puffing pull'd against the tide.
He, paddling by the fcuffling crowd,
Sees unconcern'd life's wager row'd,
And when he can't prevent foul play,
Enjoys the folly of the fray.
By these reflections I repeal
Each hafty promife made in zeal.
When gospel propagators fay,
We're bound our great light to difplay,
And Indian darkness drive away,
Yet none but drunken watchmen fend,
And fcoundrel link-boys for that end;
When they cry up this holy war,
Which every chriftian fhould be for,
Yet fuch as owe the law their ears,
We find employ'd as engineers:
This view my forward zeal fo fhocks,
In vain they hold the money-box.
At fuch a conduct, which intends
By vicious means fuch virtuous ends,
I laugh off Spleen, and keep my pence From fpoiling Indian innocence. Yet philofophic love of eafe I fuffer not to prove disease, But rife up in the virtuous cause Of a free prefs, and equal laws, The prefs reftrain'd! nefandous thought! In vain our fires have nobly fought: While free from force the prefs remains, Virtue and Freedom cheer our plains, And Learning largeffes bestows, And keeps uncenfur'd open house. We to the nation's public mart Our works of wit, and fchemes of art, And philofophic goods this way, Like water carriage, cheap convey. This tree, which knowledge fo affords, Inquifitors with flaming fwords. From lay-approach with zeal defend, Left their own paradife should end. The prefs from her fecundous womb Brought forth the arts of Greece and Rome; Her offspring, skill'd in logic war, Truth's banner wav'd in open air; The monfter Superftition fled, And hid in fhades its Gorgon head; And lawless pow'r, the long-kept field, By reafon quell'd, was forc'd to yield.
This nurse of arts, and freedom's fence
To chain, is treason against sense;
And, Liberty, thy thousand tongues
None filence, who defign no wrongs;
For those, who use the gag's restraint,
First rob, before they flop complaint.
Since disappointment gauls within,
And fubjugates the foul to Spleen,
Moft schemes, as money-fnares, I hate,
And bite not at projector's bait.
Sufficient wrecks appear each day,
And yet fresh fools are caft away.
Ere well the bubbled can turn round,
Their painted veffel runs aground;
Or in deep feas it overfets
By a fierce hurricane of debts;
Or helm directors in one trip,
Freight firft embezzled, fink the ship.
Such was of late a corporation,
The brazen ferpent of the nation,
The Charitable Corporation, inftituted for the relief of the induftri ous poor, by assisting them with small fums upon pledges at legal interest. By the villainy of those who had the management of this scheme, the proprietors were defrauded of very confiderable fums of money. In 1732 the conduct of the directors of this body, became the subject of a parliamentary enquiry, and some of them who were members of the Houfe of Commons, were expelled for their concern in this iniquitous tranfaction..
Which, when hard accidents diftrefs'd,
The poor must look at to be bleft,
And thence expect, with paper feal'd
By fraud and us'ry, to be heal'd.
I in no foul-confumption wait
Whole years at levees of the great,
And hungry hopes regale the while
On the spare diet of a smile.
There you may see the idol stand
With mirror in his wanton hand;
Above, below, now here, now there
He throws about the funny glare.
Crowds pant, and prefs to feize the prize,
The gay delufion of their eyes.
When Fancy tries her limning skill
To draw and colour at her will,
And raise and round the figures well,
And fhew her talent to excel,
I guard my heart, left it should woo
Unreal beauties Fancy drew,,
And disappointed, feel despair
At lofs of things, that never were.
When I lean politicians mark
Grazing on æther in the park;
Who e'er on wing with open throats
Fly at debates, expreffes, votes,
Juft in the manner swallows use,
Catching their airy food of news;
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