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But pray, when others praise him, do I blamc? | And each blasphemer quite escape the rod, Call Verres, Wolley, any odious name? Because the insult's not on man, but God: Why rail they then, if but a wreath of inine, Ask you, what provocation I have had? On all accomplith'd St. John! deck thy thrine? The strong antipathy of goud to bad. What! tall each fpur-galld hackney of the When truth or virtue an affiont endures, day,
Th'affront is mine, my friend, and shall be your's. When Paxton gives him 'double pots
pay : Mine, as a foe profess’d to false pretence, Or each new penfion'd sycophant pretend Who think a coxcomb's honour like his fente; To break my windows if I treat a friend; Minc, as a friend to ev'ry worthy inind; Then wisely plearl, to me they meant no hurt; And mine as man, who feel for all mankind. But 'twas my guest at whom they threw the dirt ? F. You're strangely proud. Sure, if I spare the Minister, no rules
P. So proud, I am no llave : Of honour bind me, not to maul his tools; So impudent, I own myself no knave: Sure, if they cannot cut, it may be faid
So odd, my country's ruin makes me grave. His faws are toothless, and his hatchets icad. Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to lee
It anger'd Turenne, once upon a day, Men not afraid of God, afraid of me: To see a footman kick'd that took his pay: Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, But when he hcard th'affront the fellow gave, Yet touch'd and sham'd by ridicule alone, Knew one a man of honour, one a knave; O facred weapon! left for truth's defence; The prudent Gen'ral turn’d it to a jest, Sole dread of folly, vice, and insolence ! And begg'd he'd take the pains to kick the rest : To all but heav'n-directed hands deny'd; Which not at present having time to do The Mufe may give thee, but the Gods must guide: F. Hold, Sir, for God's sake! where's the af- Rev'rent, I touch thee! but with honeft zcal; front to you?
To rouse the watchmen of the public weal; Against your worship when had S-k writ? To virtue's work provoke the tardy hall, Or P-ge pour'd forth the torrent of his wit? And goad the prelate slumb'ring in the stail. Or grant thc bard, whofe diftich all commend Ye tinsel insects! whom a court maintains, (In: porror a servant, out of pow'r a friend) That counts your beauties only by your ftains, To W-le guilty of some venial sin;
Spin all your cobwebs o'er the cyc of day! What's that to vou who nc'cr was out nor in ? The Musc's wing thall brush you all away:
The priest, whose Hartery bedropt the crown, All his Grace prcaches, all his Lordship fings, How hurt he you? he only itain'd the gown. All that makes saints of queens, and gods of kings, And how did, pray, the Horid youth offend, All, all but truth, drops dead-born from the preis; Whose specch you took, and gave it to a friend? Like the last Gazette, or the last addrefs. P. Faith, it imports not much from whom When black ambition stains a public cause, it came;
A monarch's sword when mad vainglory draw's, Whocver borrow'd could not be to blamic, Not Waller's wreath can hide the nation's fear, Since the whole Hourc did afterwards thclame. Hot Boileau turn the feather to a star. Lct courtly wits to wits atord fupply,
Not so, when diadem'd with rays divine, As hog to hog in huts of Wektphaly;
Touch'd with the flame that breaks from Vin If one, thro' nature's bounty or his Lord's,
tuc's hrine, Has what the frugal, dirty foil affords,
Her priestess Musc forbids the good to die, From him the next receives it, thick or thin, And opes the temple of Eternity. As pure a mef, almost as it caine in;
There, other trophics deck the truly brave, The blested bcncfit, not there confin'd,
Than such as Anstis cafts into the grave; Drops to the third, who nuzzles close behind; Far other stars than ** and ** wear, From tail to mouth, they feed and they carouse: And may defcend to Mordington from Stair; The last full fairly gives it to the House. (Such as on Hough's unfully'd mitre thine,
F. This filthy limone, this beastly line Or bcain, good Digby, from a heart like thine) Quite turns my liemach
Let Envy howl, while Heav'n's whole chorus P. So does flattry minc:
sings, And all your courtly civit-cats can vent, And back at honour not conferrid by kings; Perfume to you, to me is excrement.
Let flatt'ry fick’ning fce the incenfe rife, But licar me farther, Japhet, 'tis agrced, Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies: Writ not, and Chartres icarce could write or read. Truth guards ihe poet, fanctifies the line, In all the courts of Pindus guiltless quite; And makes immortal verfe as mean as mine. But pens can forge, my friend, that cannot Yes, the last pen for ficedom let me draw,
Whion truth stands trembling on the edge of law; And musi no cry in Japhet's face be thrown, Herc, last of Britons! let your names be read; Because the died he forg'd was not iny own? Are none, none living: Ict me praise the dead; Muft never patriot then declaiin at gin,
And, for that cause which made your fathers Unless, good man! he has been fairly in? Fall by the votes of their dren’rate line. [thine, Nazcalous pato biame a filing prouse,
F. Alas! alas! pray end what you begal, Without a fturing rcaion on his brows? And write next winter more Eliz's on Min.
$ 19. Imitations of Horace. POPE. Nor one that temperance advance,
Crainm'd to the throat with ortolans:
Extremely ready to relign
All that inay inake me none of mine.
South-Sea subscriptions take who please, 'TIS time, my Lord, I gave my word Leave me but liberty and case : I would be with you, June the third ;
'Twas what I faid to Craggs and Child, Chang'd it to August, and, in thort,
Who prais'd my modefty, and finil'd. Have kept it—as you do at court.
Give me, I cry'd (enough for inc) You humour me when I ain fick,
My bread, and independency ! Why not when I am fplenetic ?
So bought an annual rent or two, In town, what objects could I meet?
And liv'd just as you see I do; The shops fhut up in ev'ry street,
Near fifty, and without a wife, And fun’rals black’ning all the doors,
I trust that sinking fund, my life. And yet more melancholy whores!
Can I retrench? Yes, mighty well, And what a duft in ev'ry place?
Shrink back to my paternal cell, And a thin court that wants your face,
A little house, with trees a row, And fevers raging up and downl,
And, like its inafter, very low. And W* and H** both in town!
There dy'd my father, no man's debtor ; “ The dog-days are no more the case." And there I'll die, nor worse nor better. 'Tis true, but winter comes apace:
To set this matter full before ve,
Our old friend Swift will tell his story.
Thall see the first warm weather, But you may read it, I flop thort.
SATIRE VI. 'Tis with distinction you bestow;
The first part imitated in the year 1714, by Dr. And not to ev'ry one that comes, Just as a Scotsman does his plums.
Swift; the latter part added afterwards. • Pray take them, Sir, enough's a feast:
I'VE often with'd that I had clear • Eat fomc, and pocket up the rest'
For life, fix hundred pounds a year, What, rob your boys? those pretty rogues !
A handsome house to lodge a friend, No, Sir, you'll leave them to the hogs.'
A river at my gardco's end, Thus fools with compliments beliege yc, A terras-walk, and half a rood Contriving never to oblige ye.
Of land, let out to plant a wood. Scatter your favours on a fop,
Well, now I have all this and more,
I ask pot to increase my store;
• All this is inine but till I die; A wife inan always is or shou'd
• I can't but think 'twould found morc clever, Be mighty ready to do good;
“ To me and to my heirs for ever.” But makes a diff'rence in his thought
• If I ne'er got or loft a groat Betwixt a guinea and a groat.
• By any trick or any fault; Now this I'll say, you'll find in me
. And if I pray by reafon's rules, A safe companion, and a free;
• And not like forty other fools, But if you'd have me always near
• As thus: “ Vouchsafe, oh gracious Maker! A, Ford, pray,
“ To grant me this and t’other acre : I hope it is your resolution
“ Or, if it be thy will and pleasure, To give me back my constitution!
“ Direct my plough to find a treasure :" The tprightly wit, the lively eye,
• But only what my ftation fits, Th'engaging Imile, the gaiety,
• And to be kept in my right wits : That laugh'd down many a lummer sun, • Prefcrve, Almighty Providence! And kept you up so oft till one:
• Just what you gave me, coinpeicnce: And all that voluntary vein,
And let me in theic shades compose As when Belinda rais'd my strain.
• Something in verse as true as profe; A weazel once made thift to flink
• Remov'd from all th'ambitious fcene, In at a corn-loft thro' a chink;
• Nor puff'd by pride, nor funk by ipleen. But having amply stuffd his skin,
In short, I'm perfectly content, Could not get out as he got in:
Let me but live on this lide Trent; Which one belonging to the house
Nor cross the Channel twice a year, ('Twas not a man, it was a mouse)
To spend fix months with ttatelinen her Observing, cry'd, • You, 'Icape not so,
I inuft by all incans come to town, • Lean as you came, Sir, you must go.'
'Tis for the service of the Crown. Sir, you may spare your application),
“ Lewis, the Dean will be of use; I'm no such beart, nor his relation;
Seud for him up, take no excuse."
The toil, the danger of the seas,
Yet fome I know with envy fivell, Great Ministers ne'er think of thesc;
Becautc they fee me usd so well: Or let it cost five bundred pound,
“ How think you of our friend the Dean? No matter where the money's found;
“ I wonder what some people mean; It is but so much more in debt;
“ My Lord and he are grown so great, And that they ne'er consider'd yet.
Always together tele-a-tete. « Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, “ What, they admire him for his jokes“ Let my Lord know you're come to town. “ Sce but the fortune of some folks!” I hurry me in haftc away,
There flies about a strange report Not thinking it is levee-day;
Of fomc express arriv'd at court : And find his Honour in a pound,
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet, Hemm'd by a triple circle round,
And catechis'd in ev'ry street. Chequer'd with ribbo:is blue and green : “ You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great; How thould I thrust inyfelf between?
“ Inform us, will the Emp'ror treat? obferves me thus perplexid,
“ Or do the prints and papers lie?" And, siniling, whispers to the next,
Faith, Sir, you know as much as I. “ I thought the Dean had been too proud “ Ah, Doctor, how you love to jest ? “ To justie here among a crowd.”
“ 'Tis now no secret"-1 protest Another, in a surly fit,
'Tis one to inc" Then tell us, pray, Tells me I have more zeal than wit:
“ When are the troops to have their pay ?" “ So eager to express your love,
And, tho' I folemnly declare “ You ne'er consider whom you shove, I know no more than my Lord Mayor, “Put rudely press before a Duke."
They stand amaz’d, and think me grow a I own I'm pleas'd with this rebuke,
The closest mortal ever known. And take it kindly, meant to thow
Thus, in a sea of folly toft, What I dcfire the werld should know,
My choiceft hours of life are loft; I get a whisper, and withdraw;
Yet always withing to retreat, When twenty fools I never law
Oh, could I fee my country-seat ! Come with peticions fairly penn'd,
There leaning ncar a gentle brook, Defining I would stand thcir friend.
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book; This humbly offers me his case
And there in fiveet oblivion drown That begs my'int'rest for a place
Those cares that haunt the court and town, A hundred other mens afairs,
O charming noons, and nights divine ! Like bees, arc huniining in my cars.
Or when I sup, or when dine, • To-morrow my appeal comes on;
My friends above, my folks below, “ Without your hulp the caufe is gone" Chatting and laughing all a-row; The Duke expects iny Lord and you
The beans and bacon set before 'em, About fome great atlais, ct two
The grace-cup serv'd with all decorum: "". Put my Lord Bolinglicke in mind,
Each willing to be pleas'd, and plcafe, “ To get my warrant quickly lignid:
And ev'n the very dogs at ease! “ Consider, 'is my sint request.”
Here no man prates of idle things, Be fa:isfy’l!, I'll có
How this or thar Italian sings, Then presently he falls to teize,
A neighbour's inadness, or his spouse's, “ You may for certain, if you please;
Or what's in either of the houses : “ I doubr not, if his Lordship know
But something much more our concern, “ And, Mr Dean, one word from you"
And quite a fcandal not to learn: 'Tis (ict me fee) three ycars and more, Which is the happier, or the wiser, (October next it will be four)
A man of mcrit, or a miser ? Sinoc llarlcy iid me fitt attend,
Whether we ought to choose our friends And chose ine for an huinble friend;
For their own worth, or our own ends? Tould make me in his coach to chat,
What good, or hetter, we may call ? And queftion mc of this an! chat;
And what, the very best of alí: As, What's o'clock?' and, ‘llow's the wind?' Our friend Dan Prior told (you know) • Whofc chariot's tha: we left bchindi?
A tale extremely a propos : Or gravely try to read the lines
Name a town-life, and in a trice, Writ underncath the country signs;
He had a fiors of two mice. Or, “ Have you nothing new to-day
Once on a time, fo runs the fable, “ From Pope, from l'arncil, or fion Gay?" A country moutc, right hofpitable, Such tattle ofien entertains
Receiv'd a toun mouse at his board, Mv Lord and me as far as Stains;
Just as a farmer miųhe a lord. As once a weck ic travel down
A frugal moule, upon the whole, To Windfor, and again to Town;
Yer lov'd bis friend, and had a soul ; Where all that parles inter nos
Knev what was handitoine, and would do't, High: bu precand at Claring-Cross.
On juft occasion, coule qui conte.
He brought him bacon (nothing lean);
Ah sound no more thy soft alarms, Pudding that might have plcas'd a dean; Ivor circle fober fifty with thy charms ! Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
Mother too fierce of dear desires ! But with'd it Stilton for his fake;
Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires. Yet, to his guest tho' no way sparing,
To number five direct your doves, [loves; He eat hinilelf the rind and paring.
There spread round Murray all your blooming Our contier icaice would touch a bit,
Noble and young, who strikes the heart But idow'd his breeding and his wit;
With ev'ry (prightly, ev'ry decent part; H i his best to seem to eat,
Equal, the injur'd to defend, Ai cre’d, “ I vow you'c mighty neat. To charm the mistress, or to fix the friend. it krd, my friend, this lavage foene !
He, with a hundred arts refin'd, God's lake, come, and live with men : Shail stretch thy conquests over half the kind: "Cidor, mice, like men, must die,
To him each rival shall submit, * 3 th small and great, both you and I; Make bui his riches equal to his wit. "T! -n spend your life in joy and sport. Then shall thy form the marble grace
I s doctrine, friend, I learn'd at court." (Thy Grecian form) and Chloe lend the face : Tie ver:eft hermit in the nation
His house embolomd in the grove, Njeid, God knows, to strong temptation, Sacred to social life and social love, they come, thro' thick and thin,
Shall glitter o'er the pendent green, T 25. 1 house ncar Lincoln's Inn :
Where Thames reficēts the visionary scene : on the night of a debate,
Thither the filver founding lyres When all their lordships had lat late.
Shall call the finiling loves and young defics; Bubnd the place, where if a poet
There, ev'ry grace and mule shall throng, Shin si in description, he might how it; Exalt the dance, or animate the song; Tell how the moon-beam trembling falls, There youths and nymphs, in confort gay, And tips with Gilver all the walls;
Shall hail the rising, close the parting day. Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
With me, alas ! thote joys are o'er ; Groresco roof:, and stucco Aloors :
For me the vernal garlands bloom no more. But let it, in a word, bu faid,
Adicu, fond hope of inutual fire ! The moon was up, and men a-bed,
The still-believing, still-renew'd delire; The napkins white, the carpet red :
Adicu! the heart-expanding bowl, The guests withdrawn, had left the treat, And all the kind deceivers of the foul! And down the mice sat, tete-a-tete.
But why? Ah tell me, ah too dear! Our courtier walks froin dish to dish, Steals down my cheek th’involuntary tear? Tastes for his friend of fowl and Gilh ;
Why words so flowing, thoughts fo free, Tells all their names, lays down the law, Stop, or turn nonsense, at onc glance of thee ! Que ca el bon! Ah goutez ca!
Thce, drest in fancy's airy beam, * That jelly's rich, this malmfey healing ; Absent I follow thro' th’extended dream; “ Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in.” Now, now I ccase, I clasp thy charms, Was ever such a happy fivain
And now you burit (ah cruel!) from my arms; He stuffs and swills, and Ituffs again.
And swiftly Thoot along the inall, “ I'm quite alham’d—'tis mighty rude Or foftly glide by the canal ; “ To cat so muchbut all's so good !
Now thown by Cynthia's filver ray, “ I have a thousand thanks to give
And now on rolling waters snatch'd away. My lord alone knows how to live.” No founer said, but from the hall
Part of the Ninth Odle of the Fourth Book. Ruth chaplain, butler, dogs and all : “A rat ! a rat! clap too the door."The cat comes bouncing on the floor !
Mhould think that versc shall die, O for the heart of Homer's mice,
Which founds the filver Thaines along, Or gods to save them in a trice!
Taught on the wings of truth to fly, (It was by Providence they think,
Above the reach of vulgar song; For vour damn'd Stucco has no chink.) “ \n't plcase your honour,” quoth the peasant,
Tho' daring Milton fits sublime, “ This faine dcfert is not fo pleasant :
In Spencer native mufes play ;
shall Waller yield to time,
Nor pensive Cowley's moral lay
Sages and chiefs long since had birth
Ere Cæfar was, or Newton nam'd ;
Thesc rais'd new cmpires o‘cr the earth,
And thoic, new heav'ns and systems fram'd.
In vain they schem’d, in vain they bled ! As in the gentle reigo of my queen Annc. They had no poet, and are dead.
$ 20. The Traveller ; or, a Proßet of Society . And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find Infcribed to the Rev. Mr. H. Goldsmith.
Some spot to real happiness consign'd;
Where my worn soul, each wand'ring hope at ret, By Dr. GOLDSMITH.
May gather bliss to see iny fellows bless'd. REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, now, But where to find that happiest fpot below,
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wand'ring Po; Who can direct, when all pretend to know? Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor The shuæd’ring tenant of the frigid zone Against the houseless ftranger Muts the door; Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own; Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies, Extols the treasures of his storiny seas, A wcary waste expanding to the skics;
And his long nights of revelry and ease : Where'er I roam, whatever rcalins to see, The naked negro, panting at the line, My heart untravell’d, fondly turns to thee : Boasts of his golden sands and paliny wine; Still to my brother turns, with ccaseless pain, Baiks in the glare, or steins the tepid wave, And drags, at each remove, a leagth’ning chain. And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
Eternal blessings crown my carliest friend, Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam; And round his dwelling guardian saints attend; His first, best country, ever is at home. Bless'd be that spot where cheerful guests retire; And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, To pause from toil, and trim their evening furc; And estinate the blessings which they share, Bless'd that abodic where want and pain repair, Tho' patriots flatter, still fall wisdoin find And ev'ry stranger finds a ready chair: An equal portion dealt to all mankind ; Bless'd be those feasts, with simple plenty crown'u, As diflorent good, by art or nature given, Where all the ruddy family around
To diff'rent nations, makes their blessings even. Laugh at the jefts or pranks that never fail, Nature, a mother kind alike to all, Or ligh with pitv at some mournful tale; Still grants her bliss at labour's earneft call; Or press the bathful stranger to his food, With food as well the peafant is fupply'd And learn the luxury of doing good!
On Idra's cliffs as Arno's shelvy side; But me, not deftin'd such delights to share, And tho' the rocky-crested lummits frown, My prime of life in wand'ring spent, and care: These rocks by custom turn to beds of down, Impellid, with steps unceasing, to pursue From art more various are the bleilings fent ; Some fleeting good that inocks me with the view; Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content. That, like the circle, bounding earth and skics, Yer these each other's pow'r so strong contest, Allures from far, yet as I follow, Ries;
That either feeins destructive of the rest. [fails; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, Where wealth and freedom reign, contantment And find no spot of all the world my own. And honour links where commerce long prevails.
Ev'n now, where Alpine folitudes ascend, Hence ev'ry state, to one lov'd blessing prone, I sit me down a pensive hour to spend; Conforms and models life to that alone. And plac'd on high, above the form's career, Each to the fav'rite happiness attends, Look downward where an hundred realms appear; And spurns the plan that aims at other ends Lakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide, Till carried to excess in cach domain, The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. This fav’rite good begets peculiar pain.
When thus Creation's charms around combine, But Ict us try these truths with closer eyes, Amidst the store, should thankless pride repine? And trace them thro' the profpect as it lies : Sav, should the philosophic mind disdain (vain? Here for a while, my proper cares refign'd;
That good which makes each humbler bofom Here let me fit in forrow for mankind;
Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, These little things are great to little man; That shades the steep, and tighs at ev'ry blast, And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind
Far to the right, where Apennine afcends,
Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breaft,
Whatever fruits in different climes are found, Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er; That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground; Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill,
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appcar, Ye: ftill he sighs, for hoards are wanting still : Whose bright succession decks the varied year; Thus to my breast alternate passions risc, Whatever Iwects salute the northern íky Pleas'd with cach good that Heav'n to inan fup. With rernal leaves, that blossom but to die,Y« oft a high prevails, and sorrows fall, [plies; Thesc, here disporting, own the kindred soil, To see thc hoard of human bliss so small; Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil;
The Reader is not to be informed that chronological order is not intended; but fuck a commixture of earlier and laer Poems as may furnith the most agrecable variety.