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He spares nor friend nor foe; but calls to mind, Whilst these what nature gave disown thro' pride Likc dooms-day, all the faults of all mankind. Others affect what nature has denied;

What tho' wit tickles ? tickling is unsafe, What nature has denied fools will pursue, If fill’tis painful while it makes us laugh. As apes are ever walking upon two. Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Crassus, a graceful fage, our are and sport! Would leave a sting within a brother's heart Supports grave forms, for forms the sage support;

Parts may be prais’d, good-nature is acord ; He hems-and cries, with an important air, Then draw your wit as seldom as your sword, “ If yonder clouds withdraw, it will be fair :" And never on the weak; or you II

appear Then quotes the Stagyrite to prove it true ; As there no hero, no great genius here. And adds, " The learn'd delight in something As in smooth oil the razor best is whet,

" new.” So wit is by politeness tharpest fet;

Is 't not enough the blockhead scarce can read, Their want of coge from their offence is seen; But must he witely lock, and gravely picad? Both pain us Icast when exquisitely keen. As far a formalift from wisdom fits, The fame men give, is for the joy they find; In judging eyes, as libertines from wits. Dull is the jefter, when the joke's unkind. Nay, of true wisdom there too much may be,

Since Maicus, doubtless, thinks hintelf a wit, The gen'rous mind delights in being frie; To pay my compliment what place fo fit? Your men of parts an over-care despise ; His most facetious letters it came to hand, Dull rogues have nought to do but to be wise. Which my first Satire sweetly reprimand. Horace has said and that decides the cafeIf that a just offeree to Marcus gave,

'Tis fiveet to trifle in a proper place. Say, Marcus, which art thou-a fool, or knare? Yet subtle wights (so blind are mortal men, For all but such with caution I forbore ; Tho' Satire couch them with her keenust peo) That thou wart cither, I ne'er knew before. For ever will hang out a solemn face, I know thee now, both what thou art, and who: To put off nonsente with a better grace; No mak so good but Marcus mult shine through: As pedlars with some hero's head make bold, False names are vain, thy lines their author tell, Llulirious mark! where pins are to be sold. Thy best concealment had been writing well; What's the bene brow, or neck in thought reclin'd! But thou a brave neglect of Fame haft shewn, The body's wisdom to conceal the mind. Of others' fame, great genius! and thy own. A man of fonte can artifice disdain, Write on unheeded, and this maxim know : As men of wealth may venture to go plain ; The inan who pardons, disappoints his foe. And be this truth eternal ne'er forgot

In malice to proud wits, fome proudly lull Solemnity 's a corer for a sot. Their peevith reason, vain of being dulí; [fouls, I find the fool, when I bchold the screen; When some home-joke has ftung their folemn For 'tis the wise man's int’rest to be seen. In vengeance they determine to be fools; Hence, Scarborough, that openness of hcart, Thro'lpleen, that little nature gave, make less, And just disdain for that poor mimic, art; Quite zealous in the ways of heaviness ; Hence (manly praise !) that manner nobly fiee, To lumps inanimate a fondness take,

Which all admire, and I commend, in tliee. And disinherit fons that are awake.

With gen'rous scorn how oft haft thou furvey'd Those, when their utmost renom they would spit, of court and town the noon-tide inasquerade, Molt barbarously tell you.- he's a wit." Where swarms of knaves the vizor quite disgrace, Poor negroes thus, to ihew their burning spite And hide secure behind a naked face! To Cacod.emons, lav they 're devilish white. Where nature's end of language is declin'd, Lampridius from the bottom of his breast

And men talk only to conccal the mind; Sigls vir one child, but triumphs in the rest. Where gon'rous hearts the greatest hazard run, llow juit his grief! onc carries in his head And he who trufis a brother is undone! A less proportion of the father's lead;

My brother fiore it, therefore it is true; And is in danger, without special grace, O strange induction ! and at court quite new. To rife above a Justice of the Pence.

As well thou might'it aver, thou simple livain, The dunghill-breed of men a diamond scorn, “ 'Tis juit, and therefore i my caufc thailçun." And feel a pallion for a grain of corn ;

With such ode maxims to thy Hocks retreat, Some fupid, plodding, money-loving wight, Nor furnish mirth for minifiers of state. Who wins their hearts by knowing black from Some matter ipirits far beyond the throng white,

Relim'd in ill, more rightly bent on wrong. Who with much pains excrting all his fense, With uxquifite discernment play their game, Can range aright his shillings, pounds, and pence. More nice of conduct, and more fair of fanic. This booby father craves a booby fon, The neatly injur'd thinks his thanks are due, And by Heaven's bleiting thinks himlelfundonc. Robb’d of his right, and good opinion too: Wants of all kinds are made to Fame a pica; Faise honour,pride's first-born, this clan coperouls

, One learns to lifp, another not to fee;

Who wisely part with nothing but their fouis. Alifs D- tortering catches at your hand : Albertus hugs himself in ravilh d thougii, Was ever thing to pretty born to îtand? To find a peerage is io cheaply toughe.

* Letters sent to the Author, signed Marcus.

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SATIRE

These all their care expend on outward show Othcu, myself! abroad our counsels rom, For wealth and fame ; for fame alone, the beau. And, like ill husbands, take no care at home. Of late at White's was young Florello feen : Come from thyself, and a by-ftander be; How blank his look, how dilcompos'a his mien ! With others' cyes thy own deportment fce; So hard it proves in grief tincere to feign! And while their ails thou dost with pity view, Sunk were his fpiriis. for his coat was plain. Conceive, hard task, that thou art mortal too.

Next day his breast regain'd its wo ied peace, Thou too art wounded with the common dart, Ilis health was mended with a silver lace. And love of Fame lies throbbing at thy heart : A curious artilt, long inur'd to toils

And what wile means to gain it hast thou chote? Of gentier fort, with combs and fragant oils, Know, Fame and Fortune boch are made of proie. Whether by charice or by fome god inspir'd, Is thy ambition sweating for a rhyme, So touch'd his curls, his mighty foul was fir'd. Thou unambitious fool, at this late time? The weil-fwola ties an equal homage claim, This noon of life? The featons mend their pace, And either shoulder has its share of fame : And with a nimbler step the feafons chafe; I! is fumptuous watch-case, tho' conccal'd it lies, While I a moment name, a moment 's mift; Like a good conscience, folid joy supplies. I'm nearer death in this verse than the last; He only thinks himself (so far froin vain) What then is to be done? Be wise with speed; Stanhope in wit, in breeding Deloraine.

A fool at forty is a fool indeed. Whene'er by feeming chance he throws his eye And what fo foolish as the chace of Fame> On mirrors iluthing with his Tyrian dye, How vain the prize ! how impotent our aim ! With how subliine a trantport leaps his heart ! For what are men who grasp at praise sublime, But fate ordains that dearest friends must part. But bubbles on the rapid stream of time, la active measures brought from France he That rise and fall, and livell, and are no more, wheels,

Born and forgot, ten thousand in an hour ? And triumpis conscious of his learned heels. Should this verse live, O Lumley! may it be

So have I seen, on fome bright fummer's day, A monument of gratitude to thee ; A calf of genius, debonnair and gay,

Whole early favour I must own with fname, Dance on the bank, as if inspir’d by fame, So long my patron, and so late my

thieme. Fond of the pretty fellow in the stream.

Mrose is sunk with shame whene'er surpris d In linen clean, or peruke undisguis'd. No sublunary chance his vestments fear, Valued, like leopards, as their spots appear. To the Right Honourable Mr. Dorlington. A fam'd furtout he wears which once was blue, And his foot swins in a capacious shoe. One day his wife (for who can wires reclaim :) Lerelld her barbarous needle at his fame. LONG, Dodington, in debt, I long have fought But open force was vain; by night she went,

To ease the burden of my grateful thought ; And while he slept surpris'd the darling rent; And now a poet's gratitude you feeWhere yawn'd the frize is now become a doubt, Grant him two favours, and he 'll ask for three; And glory at one entrance quite thut out *. For whose the present glory or the gain?

He fcorns Florelio, and Florello him; You give protection, I a worthlets ttrain. This liates the filthy creature, that the prim. You love, and feel the poet's sacred Aame, Thus in each other both thele fools despise

And know the basis of a folid fame; Their own dear felves, with undiscerning eyes; Tho' prone to like, yet cautious to commend, Their methods various, but alike their aim : You read with all the malice of a friend; The iloven and the fopling are the same.

Nor favour my attempts that way alone, Ye Whigs and Tories! Thus it fares with you, But, more to raise my verse, conceal your own. When party-rage too warmly you pursue ; An ill-tim'd modeíty! Turn ages o'cr, Then both club nonsense and impetuous pride, When wanted Britain bright examples more And folly joins whom sentiments divide, Her Icanning and her genius too decays, You vent your fpleen, as monkeys when they And dark and cold are her declining days; pass

As if men now were of apott:er calt, Scratch at the mimic-monkey in the glass, Ticy meanly live on alms of ages paft. While both are one ; and henceforth be it known, Men till are men, and they who boldly dare Fools of both sides shall stand for fools alone. Shall triumph o'er the sons of cold despair;

"But who art thou :" methinks Florello cries : Or, if they fail, they juftly still take place “ Of all thy species art thou only wise :" Of such who run in debt for their disgrace: Since smallest things can give our fins a twitch, Who borrow much, then fairly make is known, As crossing straws retard a palling witch, And damn it with improvements of their own. Florello, thou my monitor înalt be;

We bring some new materials, and what's cld I'll conjurc thus fome profit out of thee. New-cast with carc, and in no borrow'd m

mas Milton

Tanto major Famae fris ez, qam
Virtutis.

JUV. SAT. 10.

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For, grow

Late times the verse may read, if these refuse, Their front supplics what their ambition lacks; And from sour critics vindicate the muse. They know a thousand lords behind their backs.

“ Your work is long," the critics cry: 'tis true; Cotril is apt to wink upon a peer, And lengthens still, to take in fools like

you : When turn'd away, with a familiar leer; Shorten my labour, if its length you blame; And Hervey's eyes, unmercifully keen,

but wile, you rob me of my game ; Have murder'd fops by whoin the ne'er was seen; As hunieci hags, who, while the dogs pursue, Niger adopts stray libels, wisely prone Renounce their four legs, and start up on two. To covet ihame ftill greater than his own ;

Like the bold bird upon the banks of Nile Bathyllus in the winter of threescore That picks the teeth of the dire crocodile, Belie's his innocence, and keeps a whore. Will I enjoy (dread feast!) the critics' rage, Absence of inind Brabantio tuins to fame, And with the fell deftroyer feed my page. Learns to mistake, nor knows his brother's name; For what ambitious foods are more to blaine Has words and thoughts in nicc disorder fet, Than those who thunder in the critic's name? And takes a memorandum to forget. Good authors damn'd, have their revenge in this, Thus vain, nor knowing what adorns or blots, To see what wretches gain the praise they miss. Men forge the patents that create them sots. Balbutius, muffled in his sable cloak,

As love of pleasure into pain betrays, Like an old Druid from his hollow oak, So most grow infamous thro' love of praise. As ravens solemn, and as boding, cries,

But whence for praise can such an ardour rise, Ten thousand worids for the three unities! When thole who bring that incense we despise? Ye doctors fage, who thro' Parnassus teach, For such the vanity of great and small, Or quit the tub, or practise what you preach. Conteinpt goes round, and all men laugh at all.

One judges as the weai her dictates; right Nor can even Satire blame them, for 'us true The poem is at noon, and wrong at night: They most have ample cause for what they do. Another judges by a surer gage,

O fruitful Britain ! doubtlets thou waft meant
An author's principles or parentage :

A nurse of fools to stock the Continent.
Since his great ancestors in Flanders fell, Tho' Plicebus and the Nine for ever mow,
The poem, doubtless, must be wiitten well : Rank folly underneath the scythe will grow:
Another judges by the writer's look:

The plenteous harvest calls me forward still,
Another judges, for he bought the book : Till i surpass in length my lawyer's bill;
Some judge, their knack of judging wrong to keep: A Welch descent, which well-paid heralds damn;
Scme judge because it is too soon to feep. Or, longer still, a Dutchman's epigram.
Thus all will judge, and with one single aim; When cloy'd, in fury I throw down my pen;
To gain themselves, not give the writer, fame. in comes a coxcomb, and I write again.
The very best ambitiously advise,

Sce! Tityrus with merriment polleft,
Half to serve you, and half to pass for wise. Is burst with laughter ere he hears the jeft;
None are at leilure others to reward :

What need be ftay? for, when the joke is o'ct, They scarce will damn but out of self-regard. His tecih will be no whiter than before.

Critics on verse, as fquibs on triumphs wait, Is there of these, ye fair! so great a duarth, Proclaim the glory, and augment the fate; That you need puichase monkeys for your minh? Hot, envious, noisy, proud, the fcribbling fry Some, vain of paintings, bid the world admire; Burn, hiss, and bounce, waste paper, stink, and die. Of houtes fome, nay, houses that they hire; Railon. my friends! what more my verfe can crown Some (perfect wisdom !) of a beauteous wife, Than Compton's smile, and your obliging frown And boaft, like Cordeliers, a fcourge for life.

Not ail on books their criticism saite; Sometimes thro'priderlıe sexeschangetheir airs; The genius of a dish some justly tafte,

My lord has vapours, and my lady twears:
And eat their way to fame! with anxious thought Then (stranger ftill!), on turning of the wind,
The salmon is refus'd, the turbot bought. My lord wears breeches, and my lady's kind.
Impetient art rebukes the sun's delay,

To show the strength and infamy of pride,
And bids December yield the fruits of May. By all 'tis follow'd, and by all denicu.
Their various cares in one great point combine What numbers are there who at once pursue
The business of their lives, that is to dine; Praile, and the glory to contemn it, too!
Half of their precious day they give the featt, Vincenna knows felf-praise betrays to theme,
And to a kind digefiion spare the rest.

And therefore lays a itratagem for fame;
Apicius, here, the taster of the town,

Makes liis approach in modeity's disguise Feeds twice a-week, to fettle their renown. To win applause, and takes it by surprise:

These worthies of the palate guard with care * To crr," says he," in small things, is my fate;' The sacred annals of their bills of fare ;

You know

your

answer-he's exact in great. In those choice books their panegyrics read, My style,” says he, “ is rude, and full of faults;" And scorn the creatures that for hunger feed; But, oh what sense! what energy of thoughts ! If man, by feeding well, commences great, That he wants algebri he must confess, Much more the worm, to whoin that man is mcat. But not a foul to give our arms fuccefs.

To g'ory some advance a lying claim, “ Ah! that's a hit indccd," Vincenna cries Thieves of renown, and pilferers of fame! - But who in heat of blood was crer wile? 4

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«I own 'twas wrong, when thousands call'd me When Britain calls, th’ embroider'd patriots run, " back,

And serve their country-if the dance is done. 6. To make that hopeless, ill-advis'd attack; " Are we not then allow'd to be polite?” “ All say 'was madness, nor dare I deny; Yes, doubtless, but firit set your notions right. ** Sure never fool so well deserv'd to die, Worth of politeness is the needful ground; Could this deceive in others, to be free,

Where that is wanting, this can ne'er be found. It ne'er, Vincenna, could deceive in thee, Triflers not even in trifles can excel ; Whose conduct is a comment to thy tongue 'Tis folid bodies only polish well: So clear, the dullest cannot take thee wrong. Great, chosen prophet! for these latter days, Thou in one suit wilt thy revenue wear, To turn a willing world from righteous ways, And haunt the Court, without a prospect there. Well, Heideger, dost thou thy master serve; Are these expedients for renown confess Well has he seen his servant ihould not starve; Thy little felf, that I may scorn thee less. Thou to his name haft splendid temples raisid,

Be wise, Vincenna, and the Court forsake; in various forms of worship seen him prais'd;
Our fortunes there nor thou nor I shall make. Gaudy devotion, like a Roman, shewn;
Even men of merit, ere their point they gain, And lung feet anthems in a tongue unknown.
In hardy service make a long campaign; Inferior off'rings to thy god of vice
Most mánfully besiege the patron's gate, Are duly paid in fiddles, cards, and dice;
And, oft repuls'd, as oft attack the great Thy sacrifice supreme an hundred maids !
With painful art, and application warm, That folemn rite of midnight masquerades !
And take a: last some little place by storm; If maids the quite exhausted town denies,
Enough to keep two shoes on Sunday clean, An hundred head of cuckolds must suffice.
And starve upon discreetly in Shire-lane. Thou smil'ft, well-pleas'd with the converted land,
Already this thy fortune can afford,

To see the fifry churches at a stand.
Then tarve without the favour of my lord. And, that thy minister may never fail,
'Tis true, great fortunes some great men confer; But what thy hand has planted till prevail,
But often, even in doing right, they err : Of minor prophets a succession sure
From caprice, not from choice, their favours The propagation of thy zeal secure.
come ;

See commons, peers, and ministers of state
They give, but think it toil to know to whom : (n solemn council met, and deep debate !

The man that 's nearest, yawning they advance : What godlike enterprise is taking birth?
I is inhumanity to blefs by chance.

What wonder opens on th' expecting earth?
If merit sues, and greatneis is so loth

'Tis done! with loud applause the council rings!
To break its downy trance, I pity both. Fix'd is the fate of whores and fiddlestrings !
I grant, at court, Philander at his need

Tho' bold these truths, thou, Mule, with truths
(Thanks to his lovely wife!) finds friends indeed. like these,
Of ev'ry charm and virtue the 's posleit. Wilt none offend whom 'tis a praise to please;
Philander! thou art exquisitely blest,

Let others Hatter to be flatter'd, thou,
The public envy! Now then, 'tis allow'd, Like just tribunals, bend an awful brow.
The man is found who may be juftly proud.

How terrible it were to common fente,
But, fee! how fickly is ambition's taste! To write a Satire which gave none offence !
Ambition feeds on trath, and loaths a feast. And, fince from life I take the draughts you see,
For, lo! Philander, of reproach afraid,

If men dislike them, do they censure me?
In secret loves his wife, but keeps her maid. On then, my mufe! and fools and knaves expose;

Some nymphs fell reputation, others buy, And, since thou canst not make a friend, make foes.
And love å market where the rates run high. The fool and knave 'tis glorious to offend,
Italian music 's fivect, because 'tis dear;

And yodlike an attempt the world to mend;
Their vanity is tickled, not their ear; The world, where lucky throws to blockheads
Their tastes would lessen, if the prices fell,

fall,
And Shakipeare's wretched fuff do quite as well; Knaves know the game, and honest men pay all.
Away the disenchanted fair would throng, How hard for real worth to gain its price !
And own that English is their mother tongue. A man fall make bis fortune in a trice,

To thew how much our northern taites refine, if blest with pliant tho' but sender fense,
Imported nymphs our peereiles outshine ; Feign'd modesty, and real impudence.
While tradesmen ftarve, these Philomets are gay; A supple knee, smooth tongue, an easy grace,
for generous lords had rather give than pay A curle within, a smile upon his face,
O lavish land! for sound at such expence ? A beauteous fifter, or convenient wife,
But then she faves it in her bills for sense. Are prizes in the lottery of life;

Music I patrionately love, 'tis plain, Genius and virtue they will soon defeat,
Since for its fake such dramas I Turtain. And lodge you in the bofom of the great.
An opera, like a pillory, may be faid

To merit, is but to provide a pain
To nail our ears down, but expose our head. From men's refusing what you ought to gain.

Behold the masquerade's fantastic scene ! May, Dodington, this maxim fail in you,
The legillature join'd with Drury-lane ! Whom my preiaging thoughts already view,

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Tanto myjor Famae fitis eft, quam
Virtutis,

By Walpole's conduct fir’d, and friendship grac’d, Such useful instruments the weather shew,
Still higher in your prince's favour plac'd ; Just as their mercury is high or low.
And lending here thote awful councils aid, Health chiefly keeps an atheist in the dark;
Which you abroad with such success obey'd ; A fever argues better than a Clarke ;
Bearthis from one who holds your fricndship dear; Let but the logic in his pulle decay,
What most we with, with cale we fancy near. The Grecian he'll renounce, and learn to pray;

Wliile C-mourns with an unfeigned zeal
SATIRE

Th’apoftate youth who reafon'd once 10 uell.
To the Rizbt Honourable Sir Spencer Compton. C-, who inakes so merry with the Creed,

He almost thinks he disbelieves indeed ;
JUV.SAT.10.

But only thinks fo: to give both their due,
ROUND some fair tree th' ambitious woodbine Satan and he believe and tremble too.
grows,

Of some for glory such tie boundless rage,
And breathes her sweets on the supporting boughs: That they 're the blackeit fandal of their ac
So sweet the verle, th' ambitious verse, should be Narcisfus the Tartarian club di claums;
(Oh pardon mine !) that hopes support from thee; Nay, a free-mason with some terror naines :
Thee, Compton, born o'er fenates to preside, Omits no duty, nor can envy tay
Their dignity to raise, their councils guide; He miss’d these many years the church or pia;
Dcep to discern, and widely to survey,

He makes no noile in parliament, 'uis true;
And kingdoms' fates without ambition weigh; But pays his debt and visit when 'tis due :
Of distant virtues nice extremes to blend, His cliaracter and gloves are ever clean;
The crown's asserier, ard the people's friend. And then, he can outbow the bowing deaa !
Nor dost thou scorn, amid fublimer views, A smile eternal on his lip he wears,
To listen to the labours of the Muse :

Which equally the wife and worthless shares.
Thy (miles protect her, while thy talents fire; In gay fatigues this most undaunted chief,
And 'tis but half thy glory to inspire.

Patient of idleness beyond belief,
Vex'd at a public fame to justly won, Most charitably lends the town his face
The jealous Chremes is with splcen undone, For ornament, in ev'ry public place;
Chremes, for airy pensions of renown,

As fure as cards he to th' assembly comes,
Dorotes his service to the state and crown ; And is the furniture of drawing-rooms.
All schemes he knows, and knowing all improves; When ombre calls, his hand and heart are free;
Tho' Britain 's thankless, still this patrioc loves. And, join'd to two, he fails not-to make three.
But patriots differ: fome may shed their blood, Narcissus is the glory of his race;
He drinks his coffee, for the public good; For who does nothing with a better grace ?
Consults the facred fteam, and there foreices To deck my list by nature were design d
What storms or lunthine Providence decrees; Such thining expletives of human kind,
Knows for each day the weather of our fate: Who want, whilethro' blank life they dream along,
A quidnunc is an amanac of state.

Sense to be right, and pallion to be wrong. You sınıle, and think this statelman void of use. To counterpoile this hero of the mode, Why may not une his secret worth proctuce ? Some for renown are fingular and odd ; Since apes can roast the choice Catanian nut, What other men dislike is sure to please, Since steeds of genius are expert at put,

Of all mankind, these dear antipodes; Since half the ferate " not content" can say, Thro' pride, not malice, they run counter still, Geefe nations fove, and puppies plots betray. And birth-days are their days of dretling ill.

What makes him modei reims and counsel Arbuthnor is a fool, and F- - a fage, An incapacity for smaller things. [kings ? Sy will fright you, E- engage ; Poor Chremes can't conduc his own estate, By nature fire.ims run backward, Aame descends, And thence has undertaken Europe's fate. Stones mount, and S--x is the worst ot friends.

Geherno lezves the realm to Chremes' skill, They take their rest by day, and wake by night, And boldly ciaims a province higher itill. And bluth if you surprise them in the righi; To raise a name, th' ambitious boy has got If they by chance blurt out, ere well aware, At once a bible and a shoulder-knot;

A fwan is white, or Queensberry is fair,
Deep in the secret he looks thro' the whole, Nothing exceeds in ridicule, no doubt,
And pities the dull rogue that saves his foul; A fooi in fashion, but a fool that's out;
To talk with rev'rence you must take good heed, His paffion for ablurdity 's fo itrong,
Nor fock his tender reason with the Creed. He cannot bear a rival in the wrong.
Howe'er, well-bresi, in public he complies, Tho' wrong the mode,comply; more sense is shewa
Obliging friends alone with blafphemies. In wearing others' follies than your own.

Peerage is poison, good estates are bad If what is out of fashion mott you prize,
For this wifeate ; poor rogues run seldom mad. Methinks you should endeavour to be wise.
Have not attainders brought unhop'd relief, But what in oddness can be more fublime
And falling stocks quite car'dan unbelief; [force; Than S, the foremost royman of his time?
While the fun shines Blunt talks with wondrous His nice ambition lieg in curious fancies,
Butthuuker mar:finali bext, and weak discourse. His daughter's portion a rich Ihell enhances;

And