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Hence SATIRE's pow'r: 'Tis her corrective part, To calm the wild diforders of the heart. She points the arduous height where Glory lies, And teaches mad Ambition to be wife: In the dark bofom wakes the fair defire, Draws good from ill, a brighter flame from fire: Strips black Oppression of her gay disguise, And bids the Hag in native horror rife; Strikes tow'ring Pride and lawless Rapine dead, And plants the wreath on Virtue's awful head.

Nor boafts the Muse a vain imagin'd Pow'r,
Tho' oft fhe mourn thofe ills fhe cannot cure.
The Worthy court her, and the Worthless fear;
Who fhun her piercing eye, that eye revere.
Her awful voice the Vain and Vile obey,

And ev'ry foe to Wisdom feels her sway.

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Smarts, Pedants, as fhe fmiles, no more are vain; 105
Defponding Fops refign the clouded cane;
Hufh'd at her voice, pert Folly's felf is ftill,
And Dulnefs wonders while fhe drops her quill.
Like the arm'd Вɛɛ, with art moft fubtly true,
From pois'nous Vice she draws a healing dew:
Weak are the ties that civil arts can find,
To quell the ferment of the tainted mind:
Cunning evades, fecurely wrapt in wiles;
And Force ftrong-finew'd rends th' unequal toils:
The ftream of Vice impetuous drives along,
Too deep for Policy, for Pow'r too ftrong.
Ev'n fair Religion, Native of the skies,

Scorn'd by the Crowd, feeks refuge with the Wife ;

IMITATIONS.

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VER. 110. From pois'nous Vice, etc.] Alluding to thefe Lines of Mr. Pope;

In the nice Bee what Art so subtly true,

From pois'nous Herbs extracts a healing dew?

The Crowd with laughter spurns her awful train,
And Mercy courts, and Juftice frowns in vain.
But SATIRE's fhaft can pierce the harden'd breast :
She plays a ruling Paffion on the reft:
Undaunted ftorms the batt'ry of his pride,

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And awes the Brave that Earth and Heav'n defy'd,
When fell Corruption, by her vassals crown'd,
Derides fall'n. Juftice proftrate on the ground;
Swift to redrefs an injur'd People's groan,
Bold SATIRE fhakes the Tyrant on her throne;
Pow'rful as Death, defies the fordid train,
And Slaves and Sycophants furround in vain,

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But with the friends of Vice, the foes of SATIRE, All truth is Spleen; all juft reproof, Ill-nature.

Well may they dread the Muse's fatal skill; Well may they tremble when she draws her quill: Her magic quill, that, like ITHURIEL'S fpear, 135 Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen'd ear: Bids Vice and Folly take their nat❜ral fhapes, Turns Ducheffes to ftrumpets, 'Beaux to apes; Drags the vile Whisperer from his dark abode, Till all the Demon ftarts up from the toad.

O fordid maxim, form'd to screen the vile,
That true Good-nature ftill muft wear a smile!
In frowns array'd her beauties ftronger rife,
When love of Virtue wakes her scorn of Vice:
Where Juftice calls, 'tis Cruelty to fave;

And 'tis the La 's-good-nature hangs the Knave.
Who combats Virtue's foe is Virtue's friend;
Then judge of SATIRE's merit by her end :
To Guilt alone her vengeance stands confin'd,
The object of her love is all Mankind.

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Scarce more the friend of Man, the wife muft own,

Ev'n ALLEN's bounteous hand, than SATIRE's frown:
This to chaftife, as That to bless was giv❜n;
Alike the faithful Ministers of Heav'n.

Oft in unfeeling hearts the fhaft is spent:
Tho' ftrong th' example, weak the punishment.
They leaft are paid, who merit Satire most:
Folly the Laureat's, Vice was Chartres' boaft
Then where's the wrong, to gibbet high the name
Of Fools and Knaves already dead to shame?
Oft SATIRE acts the faithful Surgeon's part;
Gen'rous and kind, tho' painful is her art:
With caution bold, fhe only strikes to heal;
Tho' Folly raves to break the friendly steel.
Then fure no fault impartial SATIRE knows,
Kind ev'n in Vengeance, kind to Virtue's foes.
Whose is the crime, the fcandal too be theirs;
The Knave and Fool are their own Libellers.

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PART II.

DARE nobly then: But confcious of your trust,
As ever warm and bold be ever just :

Nor court applause in these degen'rate days:
The Villain's cenfure is extorted praise.

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But chief, be fteady in a noble end,

And fhew Mankind that Truth has yet a friend.

'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write,

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As Foplings grin to fhew their teeth are white:
To brand a doubtful folly with a smile,

Or madly blaze unknown defects, is vile :
'Tis doubly vile, when, but to prove your art,
You fix an arrow in a blameless heart.
O loft to honour's voice, O doom'd to shame,
Thou Fiend accurft, thou Murderer of Fame!
Fell Ravifher, from Innocence to tear
That name, than liberty, than life more dear!
Where shall thy baseness meet its just return,
Or what repay thy guilt but endless fcorn?
And know, immortal Truth shall mock thy toil :
Immortal Truth fhall bid the shaft recoil:
With rage retorted, wing the deadly dart;
And empty all its poison in thy heart.

With caution next, the dang'rous pow'r apply;
An eagle's talon afks an eagle's eye:
Let SATIRE then her proper object know,
And ere she strike, be fure she strike a foe.

Nor fondly deem the real fool confeft,
Because blind Ridicule conceives a jeft:
VOL. II.
C

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Before whofe altar Virtue oft hath bled,
And oft a deftin'd victim shall be led:

Lo, Shafifo'ry rears her high on Reafon's throne,
And loads the Slave with honours not her own: 200
Big-fwoln with folly, as her fmiles provoke,
Prophaneness spawns, pert Dunces nurse the joke!
Come, let us join a while this titt'ring crew,
And own the Ideot Guide for once is true;
Deride our weak forefathers' mufty rule,
Who therefore fmil'd, because they saw a Fool;
Sublimer logic now adorns our isle,

We therefore fee a Fool, because we smile,
Truth in her gloomy cave why fondly feek?
Lo, gay the fits in Laughter's dimpled cheek:
Condemns each furly academic foe,

And courts the spruce Freethinker and the Beau.
but few can trace,
Dadalian arguments

But all can read the language of grimace.
Hence mighty Ridicule's all-conqu❜ring hand
Shall work Herculean wonders thro' the Land:
Bound in the magic of her cobweb-chain,
You, mighty WARBURTON, shall rage in vain,
In vain the tracklefs maze of Truth you scan,
And lend th' informing Clue to erring Man :
No more fhall Reason, boaft her pow'r divine,
Her Bafe eternal shook by Folly's mine!
Truth's facred Fort th' exploded laugh fhall win ;
And Coxcombs vanquish BERKLEY by a grin,

But you, more fage, reject th' inverted rule,
That Truth is e'er explor'd by Ridicule :
On truth, on falfehood let her colours fall,

She throws a dazzling glare alike on all;

As the Prism but mocks the flatter'd eye, gay

And gives to ev'ry object ev'ry dye.

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