To fhew how much our northern tastes refine,
Imported nymphs our peereffes outshine;
While tradesmen ftarve, these Philomels are gay; 205
For generous lords had rather give than pay.
Behold the masquerade's fantastic scene!
The Legislature join'd with Drury-Lane!
When Britain calls, th' embroider'd patriots run,
And ferve their country-if the dance is done.
"Are we not then allow'd to be polite?"
Yes, doubtless; but first set your notions right.
Worth, of politeness is the needful ground;
Where that is wanting, this can ne'er be found.
Triflers not ev'n in trifles can excel;
"Tis folid bodies only polish well.
Great, chofen prophet! for these latter days,
To turn a willing world from righteous ways!
Well, Heydegger, doft thou thy master serve;
Well has he feen his servant should not starve,
Thou to his name haft fplendid temples rais'd;
In various forms of worship feen him prais'd,
Gaudy devotion, like a Roman, shown,
And fung sweet anthems in a tongue unknown.
Inferior offerings to thy god of vice
Are duly paid, in fiddles, cards, and dice;
Thy facrifice fupreme, an hundred maids!
That folemn rite of midnight masquerades!
If maids the quite exhausted town denies,
An hundred head of cuckolds may fuffice.
Thou fmil'ft, well pleas'd with the converted land,
To fee the fifty churches at a ftand.
And that thy minister may never fail,
But what thy hand has planted ftill prevail,
Of minor prophets a fucceffion sure
The propagation of thy zeal fecure.
See commons, peers, and minifters of state, In folemn council met, and deep debate! What Godlike enterprize is taking birth? What wonder opens on th' expecting earth? 'Tis done! with loud applause the council rings! Fix'd is the fate of whores and fiddle-firings! Though bold thefe truths, thou, Mufe, with truths like thefe,
Wilt none offend, whom 'tis a praise to please :
Let others flatter to be flatter'd, thou,
Like just tribunals, bend an awful brow.
low terrible it were to common-sense,
To write a Satire, which gave none offence!
And, fince from life I take the draughts you fee,
If men diflike them, do they cenfure me?
The fool, and knave, 'tis glorious to offend,
And Godlike an attempt the world to mend;
The world, where lucky throws to blockheads fall,
Knaves know the game, and honeft men pay all.
How hard for real worth to gain its price!
A man shall make his fortune in a trice,
If bleft with pliant, though but flender, sense,
Feign'd modefty, and real impudence:
A fupple knee, fmooth tongue, an easy grace,
A curfe within, a fmile upon his face;
A beauteous fifter, or convenient wife,
Are prizes in the lottery of life;
Genius and Virtue they will foon defeat,
And lodge you in the bofom of the great.
To merit, is but to provide a pain
For men's refufing what you ought to gain.
May, Dodington, this maxim fail in you,
Whom my prefaging thoughts already view
By Walpole's conduct fir'd, and friendship grac'd,
Still higher in your Prince's favour plac'd;
And lending, bere, thofe awful councils aid,
Which you, abroad, with fuch fuccefs obey'd!
Bear this from one, who holds your friendship dear ;
What most we wifh, with eafe we fancy near.
And breathes her fweets on the fupporting boughs:
So fweet the verse, th' ambitious verfe, should be,
(O! pardon mine) that hopes fupport from thee;
Thee, Compton, born o'er fenates to prefide,
Their dignity to raise, their councils guide;
Deep to difcern, and widely to furvey,
And kingdoms fates, without ambition, weigh;
Of diftant virtues nice extremes to blend,
The Crown's afferter, and the People's friend :
Nor doft thou fcorn, amid fublimer views,
To listen to the labours of the Mufe;
Thy fmiles protect her, while thy talents fire,
And 'tis but half thy glory to inspire.
Vex'd at a public fame, so justly won,
The jealous Chremes is with fpleen undone;
Chremes, for airy penfions of renown,
Devotes his fervice to the State and Crown ;
All schemes he knows, and, knowing, all improves, Though Britain's thankless, still this patriot loves : 20
But patriots differ; fome may shed their blood,
He drinks his coffee, for the public good;
Confults the facred fteam, and there forefees
What storms, or fun-fhine, Providence decrees;
Knows, for each day, the weather of our fate;
A Quidnunc is an almanack of State.
You fmile, and think this statefman void of ufe;
Why may not time his fecret worth produce?
Since apes can roast the choice Caftanian Nut,
Since feeds of genius are expert at Put ;
Since half the Senate "Not content" can fay,
Geefe nations fave, and puppies plots betray.
What makes him model realms, and counsel kings ? An incapacity for smaller things:
Poor Chremes can't conduct his own eftate,
And thence has undertaken Europe's fate.
Gehenno leaves the realm to Chremes' fkill,
And boldly claims a province higher still :
To raise a name, th' ambitious boy has got,
At once, a Bible, and a shoulder-knot ;
Deep in the secret, he looks through the whole,
And pities the dull rogue that saves his foul;
To talk with reverence you must take good heed,
Nor fhock his tender reason with the Creed:
Howe'er well-bred, in public he complies,
Obliging friends alone with blafphemies.
Peerage is poifon, good eftates are bad
For this disease; poor rogues run feldom mad.
Have not attainders brought unhop'd relief,
And falling frocks quite cur'd an unbelief?
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