What's not destroy'd by Time's devouring hand? Where's Troy, and where's the may-pole in the Strand?

Pease, cabbages, and turnips once grew, where
Now stands New Bond street, and a newer square;
Such piles of buildings now rise up and down,
London itself seems going out of town.

Our fathers cross'd from Fulham in a wherry,
Their sons enjoy a bridge at Putney-ferry.
Think we that modern words eternal are?
Toupet and Tompion, Cosins, and Colmar
Hereafter will be call'd, by some plain man,
A wig, a watch, a pair of stays, a fan.

To things themselves if time such change affords,
Can there be any trusting to our words?

To screen good ministers from public rage,
And how with party madness to engage,
We learn from Addison's immortal page.
The Jacobite's ridiculous opinion

Is seen from Tickell's letter to Avignon.
But who puts Caleb's Country-Craftsman out,
Is still a secret, and the world's in doubt.

Not long since parish-clerks, with saucy airs, Apply'd king David's psalms to state affairs. Some certain tunes to politics belong,

On both sides drunkards love a party-song.

If full across the Speaker's chair I go,
Can I be said the rules o' th' House to know?
I'll ask, nor give offence without intent,
Nor through meer sheepishness be impudent.

In acts of Parliament avoid sublime,
Nor e'er address his Majesty in rhyme;
An Act of Parliament's a serious thing,
Begins with year of Lord and year of King;
Keeps close to form, in every word is strict,
When it would pains and penalties inflict.
Soft words suit best petitioners' intent;
Soft words, O ye petitioners of Kent!

Whoe'er harangues before he gives his vote, Should send sweet language from a tuneful throat. Pultney the coldest breast with zeal can fire, And Roman thoughts by Attic stile inspire; He knows from tedious wrangling to beguile The serious house into a cheerful smile; When the great Patriot paints his anxious fears' For England's safety, I am lost in tears. But when dull speakers strive to move compassion, I pity their poor hearers, not the nation : Unless young members to the purpose keep, I fall a laughing, or I fall asleep.

Can men their inward faculties control? Is not the tongue an index to the soul?

Laugh not in time of service to your God,
Nor bully, when in custody o' th' rod;

Look grave, and be from jokes and grinning far,
When brought to sue for pardon at the bar :
If then you let ill-tim'd wit appear,

your

Knights, citizens, and burgesses will sneer.

For land, or trade, not the same notions fire The city-merchant, and the country-'squire ; Their climes are distant, though one cause unites The lairds of Scotland, and the Cornish knights.

To likelihood your characters confine :
Don't turn Sir Paul out, let Sir Paul resign.
In Walpole's voice (if factions ill intend)
Give the two Universities a friend;

Give Maidstone wit, and elegance refin'd;
To both the Pelhams give the Scipio's mind;
To Cart'ret learning, eloquence, and parts;
To George the second, give all English hearts.

Sometimes fresh names in politics produce,
And factions yet unheard of introduce ;
And if you dare attempt a thing so new,
Make to itself the flying squadron true.

To speak is free, no member is debarr'd;
But funds and national accounts are hard:
Safer on common topics to discourse,
The malt-tax, and a military force.

On these each coffee-house will lend a hint,

Besides a thousand things that are in print.

But steal not word for word, nor thought for thought,
For you'll be teaz'd to death, if you are caught,
When factious leaders boast increasing strength,
Go not too far, nor follow every length:

Leave room for change, turn with a grace about,
And swear you left 'em, when you found 'em out.

With art and modesty your part maintain;
And talk like Col'nel Titus, not like Lane.
The trading knight with rants his speech begins,
Sun, moon, and stars, and dragons, saints, and kings:
But Titus said, with his uncommon sense,
When the exclusion-bill was in suspence,
I hear a lion in the lobby roar ;

Say, Mr. Speaker, shall we shut the door
And keep him there, or shall we let him in
To try if we can turn him out again?

Some mighty blusterers impeach with noise, And call their private cry, the public voice.

From folios of accounts they take their handles, And the whole balance proves a pound of candles; As if Paul's cupola were brought to bed, After hard labor, of a small pin's head.

Some Rufus, some the Conqueror bring in, And some from Julius Caesar's days begin.

A cunning speaker can command his chops,
And when the house is not in humor, stops;
In falsehood probability employs,

Nor his old lies with newer lies destroys.

If when you speak, you'd hear a needle fall, And make the frequent hear-hims rend the wall, In matters suited to your taste engage, Rememb'ring still your quality and age.

Thy task be this, young Knight, and hear my song, What politics to every age belong.

When babes can speak, babes should be taught to

say

King George the second's health, huzza, huzza! Boys should learn Latin for Prince William's sake, And girls Louisa their example make.

More loves the youth, just come to his estate,
To range the fields, than in the house debate ;
More he delights in fav'rite Jowler's tongue,
Than in Will Shippen, or Sir William Yonge :
If in one chaise he can two horses kill,
He cares not two-pence for the land-tax bill:
Loud in his wine, in women not o'er nice,
He damns his uncles if they give advice;
Votes as his father did when there's a call,
But had much rather never vote at all.