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See how corruption grows,

While mothers, daughters, aunts, Instead of powder'd beaus,

From pulpits chufe gallants.

30

If we who wear our wigs

With fan-tail and with snake, Are bubbled thus by prigs;

Z-ds, who would be a rake?

35

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On BURNING a dull POEM.

Written in the year 1729.

A

5

N ass's hoof alone can hold

That pois'nous juice which kills by cold.
Methought, when I this poem read,
No veífel but an ass's head
Such frigid fuftian could contain,
I mean the head without the brain.
The cold conceits, the chilling thoughts.
Went down like ftupifying draughts:
I found my head began to swim,
A numbness crept through ev'ry limb.
In haste, with imprecations dire,
I threw the volume in the fire :
When, who could think? tho'cold as ice,
It burnt to ashes in a trice.

How could I more inhance its fame? Though born in snov, it dy'd in flame.

15

A

A Libel on the Reverend Dr. DELANY,

and his Excellency John Lord CAR

TERET,

To Dr. DELANY, occasioned by his epistle to his

Excellency John Lord CARTERET.

Written in the year 1729.

5

DEluded mortals, whom the great

Chuse for companions téte a téte;
Who at their dinners en famille,
Got lčave to sit: whene'er you

will

; Then boafting tell us where you

din'd, And how his Lordship was so kind ; How many pleasant things he spoke, And how you laughid at ev'ry joke: Swear he's a most facetious man; That you

and he are cup and can : You travel with a heavy load, And quite mistake preferinent's road.

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Suppofe my Lord and you alone;
Hint the least intrest of your own;
His visage drops, he knits his brown
He cannot talk of bus'ness now :
Or mention but a vacant post,
He'll turn it off with,

" Naine

уот

toast." Nor could the nicest artist paint A countenance with more constraint.

20

For as, their appetites to quench, Lords keep a pimp to bring a wench";

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So men of wit are but a kind
Of pandars to a vitious mind ;
Who proper objects must provide
To gratity their lust of pride,
When weary'd with intrigues of state,
They find an idle hour to prate.
Then should you dare to ask a place,
You forfeit all your patron's grace,
And disappoint the sole design,
For which he summon'd you to dine.

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35

Thus Congreve spent in writing plays,
And one poor office half his days;
While Montague *, who claim'd the station
To be Mæcenas of the nation,
For poets open table kept,
But ne'er consider'd where they slept :
Himself as rich as fifty Jews,
Was easy though they wanted shoes;
And crazy Congreve scarce could spare
A shilling to discharge his chair :
Till prudence taught him to appeal
From Pæan's fire to party-zeal;
Not owing to his happy vein
The fortunes of his latter scene,
Took proper principles to thrive ;
And so might ev'ry dunce alive.

45

Thus Steele, who own'd what others writ,
And flourish'd by imputed wit,
From perils of a hundred jails,
Withdrew to starve, and die in Wales.

50

Thus Gay, the hare + with many friends, Twice seven long years the court attends :

# Earl of Halifax.

† See his fables.

Who

55,

Who under tales conveying truth,
To virtue form'd a princely youth * :
Who paid his courtship with the croud,
As far as modeft pride allow'd;
Rejects a servile uiher's place,
And leaves St. James's in disgrace t.

60

65

70.

Thus Addison, by Lords caress'd,
Was left in foreign lands distress'd;
Forgot at home, became for hire
A trav’ling tutor to a 'squire :
But wisely left the muses hill,
To bus’ness shap'd the poet's quill,
Let all his barren laurels fade,
Took up himfelf the courtiers trade,
And grown a minister of state,
Saw

poets at his levee wait.
Hail, happy Pope ! whose gen’rous mind.
Detefting all the statesmen kind,
Contemning courts, at courts unseen;
Refus'd the visits of a queen.
A foul with ev'ry virtue fraught,
By sages, priests, or poets taught;
Whose filial piety excels
Whatever Grecian story tells in
A genius for all stations fit,
Whofe meaneft talent is his wit ;
His heart too great, though fortune little,
To lick a rascal statesman's spittle ;
Appealing to the nation's taste,
Above the reach of want is placed :
By Homer dead was taught to thrive,
Which Homer never could alive :

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85

* His Royal Highness William Duke of Cumberland, second fun of K. George II. + For some account of this, fee Letters to and from Dr. Swift.

And

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