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PART I. Of the End and Efficacy of Satire. The

Love of Glory and Fear of Shame universal, ver. 29. This Passion, implanted in Man as a Spur to Virtue, is generally perverted, ver. 41. And thus becomes the Occasion of the greatest Follies, Vices, and Miseries, ver. 61. It is the Work of Satire to rectify this Passion, to reduce it to its proper Channel, and to convert it into an Incentive to Wisdom and Virtue, ver. 89. Hence it appears that Satire may

influence those who defy all Laws Human and Divine, ver. 99.

An Objection answered, ver. 131. PART II. Rules for the Conduct of Satire. Justice

and Truth its chief and effential Property, ver. 169. Prudence in the Application of Wit and Ridicule, whose Province is, not to explore unknown, but to enforce known Truths, ver. 191. Proper Subjects of Satire are the Manners of present Times, ver. 239. Decency of Expression recommended, ver. 255. The different Methods in which Folly and Vice ought to be chastised, ver. 269. The Variety of Style and Manner which thefe two Subje&ts require, ver. 277. The Praise of Virtue may be admitted with Propriety, ver. 315. Caution with regard to Panegyric, ver.

329. The Dignity of true Satire, ver. 341. PART III. The History of Satire. Roman Satirists,

Lucilius, Horace, Persius, Juvenal, ver. 357, &c. Causes of the Decay of Literature, particularly of Satire, ver. 389. Revival of Satire, 401. Erasmus one of its principal Restorers, ver. 405. Donne, ver. 411. The Abuse of Satire in England, during the licentious Reign of Charles II. ver. 415. Dryden, ven 429. The true Ends of Satire pursued by Boileau in France, ver. 439. and by Mr. Pope in England, ver. 445




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ATE gave the word : the cruel arrow sped ;

And Pope lies number'd with the mighty Dead! Refign'd he fell ; superior to the dart, That quench'd its rage in Yours and Britain's Heart: You mourn : but Britain, lull'd in rest profound,

(Unconscious Britain !) Numbers o'er her wound.
Exulting Dulness ey'd the setting Light,
And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the Night:
Rous'd at the signal, Guilt collects her train,
And counts the Triumphs of her growing reign :
With inextinguishable rage they burn:
And Snake-hung Envy hisses o'er his Urn:
Th’envenom'd Monsters spit their deadly foam,
To blast the Laurel that surrounds his Tomb.
But You, O Warburton! whose


Can see the greatness of an honest mind;
Can fee each Virtue and each Grace unite,
And taste the Raptures of a pure Delight;
You visit oft his awful Page with Care,
And view that bright assemblage treasur'd there ;
You trace the Chain that links his deep design,
And pour new lustre on the glowing Line.
Yet deign to hear the efforts of a Muse,
Whose eye, not wing, his ardent light pursues:
Intent from this great Archetype to draw

25 Satire's bright Form, and fix her equal Law;




Pleas'd if from hence th' unlearn’d may comprehend, And reverence His and Satire's generous End.

In every breast there burns an active flame, The Love of Glory, or the Dread of Shame : The Passion One, though various it appear, As brighten’d into Hope, or dimm’d by Fear. The lisping Infant, and the hoary Sire, And Youth and Manhood feel the heart-born fire : The Charms of Praise the Coy, the Modest woo, 35 And only fly, that Glory may pursue : She, Power refiftless, rules the wise and great ; Bends ev’n reluctant Hermits at her feet; Haunts the proud City, and the lowly Shade, And sways alike the Sceptre and the Spade.

40 Thus Heaven in Pity wakes the friendly Flame, To urge

Mankind on Deeds that merit Fame : But Man, vain Man, in Folly only wise, Rejects the Manna sent him from the Skies : With raptures hears corrupted Passion's call,

45 Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall. As each deceitful Shadow tempts his view, He for the imag'd Substance quits the true; Eager to catch the visionary Prize, In quest of Glory plunges deep in Vice;

50 Till madly zealous, impotently vain, He forfeits every Praise he pants to gain.

Thus still imperious Nature plies her part; And still her Dictates work in every heart, Each Power that fovereign Nature bids enjoy, 55 Man may corrupt, but Man can ne'er destroy.




Like mighty rivers, with resftlefs force
The Passions rage, obstructed in their course;
Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore,
And drown those Virtues which they fed before.

And sure, the deadliest Foe to Virtue's flame,
Our worst of Evils, is perverted Shame.
Beneath this load, what abject numbers groan,
Th' entangled Slaves to folly not their own!
Meanly by fashionable fear opprefs d,
We seek our Virtues in each other's breast;
Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign Vice,
Another's weakness, interest, or caprice.
Each Fool to low Ambition, poorly great,
That pines in splendid wretchedness of state,
Tir'd in the treacherous Chace, would nobly yield,
And, but for shame, like Sylla, quit the field :
The Dæmon Shame paints strong the ridicule,
And whispers close, “ The World will call you Fool."

Behold yon Wretch, by impious fashion driven, 75 Believes and trembles, while he scoffs at Heaven. By weakness strong, and bold through fear alone, He dreads the fneer by shallow Coxcombs thrown ; Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod; To man a Coward, and a Brave to God.

80 Faith, Justice, Heaven itself now quit their hold, When to false Fame the captiv’d Heart is sold : Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato dy'd ; Nought could fubdue his Virtue, but his Pride. Hence chaste Lucretia's Innocence betray'd Fell by that Honour which was meant its aid.



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