And as their heels elated rife,
Their heads attempt the neither skies.
O, what indignity and fhame,
To proftitute the mufe's name?
The plagues and fcourges of mankind;
By flatt'ring k-s, whom heav'n defign'd
Bred up in ignorance and floth,
And ev'ry vice that nurses both.
Fair Britain, in thy monarch bleft,
Whofe virtues bear the strictest test;
Whom never faction could befpatter,
Nor minifter nor poet flatter?
What juftice in rewarding merit!
What magnanimity of fpirit!
What lineaments divine we trace
Through all his figure, mien, and face!
Though peace with olive bind his hands,
Confefs'd the conqu'ring hero ftands.
Hydafpes, Indus, and the Ganges *,
Dread from his hand impending changes.
From him the Tartar and Chinese,
Short by the knees intreat for peace †.
The confort of his throne and bed,
A perfect goddess born and bred,
Appointed fov'reign judge to fit
On learning, eloquence, and wit.
Our eldeft hope, divine Iülus,
(Late, very late, O may he rule us!)
What early manhood has he thown,
Before his downy beard was grown!
Then think what wonders will be done
By going on as he begun,
An heir for Britain to fecure
As long as fun and moon endure.
The remnant of the royal blood
Comes pouring on me like a flood.
Bright goddefies in number five;
Duke William, fweeteft prince alive.
Now fing the minifter of ftate ‡,
Who fhines alone without a mate.
Obferve with what majeftic port
This Atlas ftands to prop the court :
Intent the public debts to pay,
Like prudent Fabius*, by delay,
Thou great vicegerent of the King,
Thy praifes every muse shall fing!
In all affairs thou fole director,
Of wit and learning chief protector;
Though fmall the time thou hafte to spare,
The church is thy peculiar care.
Of pious prelates what a ftock
You chufe to rule the fable flock!
You raise the honour of the peerage,
Proud to attend you at the fteerage.
You dignify the noble race,
Content yourself with humbler place.
Now learning, valour, virtue, sense,
To titles give the fole pretence.
St. George beheld thee with delight
Vouchfafe to be an azure knight,
When on thy breast and sides Herculean
He fix'd the ftar and ftring cerulean.
Say, poet, in what other nation
Shone ever fuch a conftellation !
Sir Robert Walpole, afterwards Earl of Orford,
"Unus homo nobis cunctando reftituit rem,”
Attend ye Popes, and Youngs, and Gays,
And tune your harps, and ftrow your bays:
Your panegyrics here provide;
You cannot err on flatt'ry's fide.
Above the stars exalt your ftile,
You ftill are low ten thoufand mile.
On Lewis all his bards beftow'd
Of incenfe many a thousand load;
But Europe mortify'd his pride,
And fwore the fawning rafcals ly'd.
Yet what the world refus'd to Lewis,
Apply'd to George exactly true is.
Exactly true! invidious poet!
'Tis fifty thousand times below it.
Tranflate me now fome lines, if you can,
From Virgil, Martial, Ovid, Lucan.
They could all pow'r in heav'n divide,
And do no wrong to either fide;
They teach you how to fplit a hair,
Give Ge and Jove an equal share *.
Yet why fhould we be lace'd fo strait?
I'll give my m-n-ch butter-weight.
And reafon good; for many a year
Jove never intemeddled here;
Nor though his priests be duly paid,
Did ever we defire his aid :
We now can better do without him,
Since Woolfton gave us arins to rout him,
** Cætera defiderantur. *****
"Divifum imperium cum Jove Cæfar habet.
A Character, Panegyric, and Description of the LEGION-CLUB †.
See a building large and lofty,
Not a bow-fhot from the college;
Half the globe from fenfe and knowledge;
By the prudent architect
Place'd against the church direct,
Making good my grandame's jest,
Near the church ‡- -you know the reft.
Tell us what the pile contains?
Many a head that holds no brains.
Thefe demoniacs let me dub
With the name of Legion-club.
Such affemblies, you might fwear,
Meet when butchers bait a bear
Such a noife, and fuch haranguing,
When a brother thief is hanging:
Such a rout and fuch a rabble
Run to hear Jack-pudding gabble;
Such a croud their ordure throws
On a far lefs villain's nofe.
Could I from the building's top Hear the rattling thunder drop,
I have written a very masterly poem on the legion club-it is
The Dean complains, in letter 132. that other characters were added, ani in letter 133. that there were 50 different copies; but his confits of juft 240 lines, and has every o ner mark of a genuine copy. -N. B. Mr. Hawkefwor h h sumbered the lines of this pcem too little by two. It confifts of 242 lines.
The nearer the chuic, the farther from God.
While the devil upon the roof
(If the devil be thunder-proof) Should with poker fiery red
Crack the ftones, and melt the lead;
Drive them down on ev'ry fcull,
While the den of thieves is full;
Quite destroy that harpie's neft,
How might then our isle be bleft!
Let them, when they once get in,
Sell the nation for a pin :
While they fit a picking ftraws,
Let them rave at making laws;
While they never hold their tongue,
Let them dabble in their dung;
Let them form a grand committee,
How to plague and ferve the city;
Let them ftare, and ftorm, and frown,
When they fee a clergy-gown;
Let them, ere they crack a louse,
Call for the orders of the house;
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