To that imcomparable Panegyrift, the Author of the Satyr upon Wit.

H

Bl.

By Coll. Bl

Enceforth no more in thy Poetick Rage
Burlefque the God-like Heroes of the Age;
No more King Arthurs be with Labour writ,
But follow Nature, and still rail at Wit :
For this thy mighty Genius was defign'd;
In this thy Cares a due Succefs may find.
Opinions we more easily receive

From Guides that practise by thofe Rules they give.
So Dullness thou may'ft write into Efteem;
Thy great Example, as it is thy Thème.

Hope not to join (like G---rth's immortal Lays)
The keeneft Satyr with the best of Praise.

Thy Satyrs bite not, but, like

fop's Afs,

Thou kick'ft the Darling whom thou would't carefs.
Would't thou our Youth from Poetry affright,

'Tis wifely done, thy felf in Verfe to write.
So drunken Slaves the Spartans did design

Should fright their Children from the Love of Wine.
Go on, and rail as thou hast done before;
Thus Lovers ufe, when picqu'd in an Amour,
The Nymph they can't enjoy, they call a Whore.

The Quack corrected: Or, Advice to the Knight of the Ill-favour'd Mufe.

L

By the Right Honourable the Earl of

ET Bre ftill, in good King Arthur's Vein,
To Fleckno's Empire his juít Right maintain.
E*3

Let

Let him his own to common Senfe oppofe,

With Praife and Slander maul both Friends and Foes
Let him great Dryden's awful Name prophane,
And learned Garth, with envious Pride, difdain;
Codron's bright Genius with vile Puns lampoon,
And run a Muck at all the Wits in Town;
Let the Quack fcribble any thing but Bills,
His Satyr wounds not, but his Phyfick kills.

Nweildy Pedant, let thy awkward Mufe

With Cenfures praife, with Flatteries abuse.

To lafh, and not be felt, in thee's an Art;
Thou ne'er mad'ft any, but thy School-Boys, finan
Then be advis'd, and fcribble not agen;
Thou'rt fashion'd for a Flail, and not a Pen.
If Bl's immortal Wir thou would'st descry,
Pretend 'tis he that writ thy Poetry.

Thy feeble Satyr ne'er can do him Wrong;
Thy Poems and thy Patients live not long.

An equal Match; Or, A drawn Battle.
By Col. Codrington.

Monument of Dullness to erect,

A By fhould write, and Bl -re fhould correct,

Like which no other Piece can e'er be wrought,
For Decency of Stile, and Life of Thought; .
But that where By shall in Judgment fit,
To pare Excrefcencies from Bl—re's Wit›

Το

To the Mirror of British Knighthood, the worthy Author of the Satyr against Wit: Occafion d by the Hemiftick, Pag. 8.

By Richard Steel, Efq

Heav'ns guard poor A.

USTI then paffive ftand? And can I hear
The Man I love abus'd, and yet forbear?

Μ'

Yet must I thank thy Favour to my Friend,
"Twas fome Remorfe thou did'ft not him commead.
Thou doft not all my Indignation raise e;

For I prefer thy Pity to thy Praise.

In vain thou would'ft thy Name, dull Pedant, hide;
There's not a Line but fmells of thy Cheapfide.
If Cafar's Bounty for your Trash you've fhar'd,
You're not the first Affine he has fpar'd.
His Mercy, not his Justice, made thee Knight,
Which Prt-r may demand with equal Right.

Well may'ft thou think an useless Talent. Wit;
Thou, who without it, haft three Poems writ:
Impenitrably dull, fecure thou'rt found,

And can't receive no more than give a Wound:
Then, fcorn'd by all, to fome dark Corner fly,
And in Lethargick Trance expiring lie,
'Till thou from injur'd G-rth thy Cure receive,
And Sd only Abfolution give.

statistiotietenkintsetiatoutsutakseteakoutouts.

To the Cheapfide Kt. on his Satyr against Wit; By Mr. William Burnaby.

S

Ome fcribbling Fops fo little value Fame,

They fometimes hit, becaufe they never aim.

E 4

But

But thou for Erring haft a certain Rule,

And, aiming, art inviolably dull.

Thy muddy Stream no lucid Drop fupplies,

Bat Puns like Bubbles on the Surface rife.
All that for Wit you could, you've kindly done;
You cannot write, but can be writ upon.
And a like Fate does either Side befit,
Immortal Dullness, or immortal Wit.

In just Extreams an equal Merit lies,

And B-le and G-rth with thee must share the Prize, Since thou can'ft fink as much as they can rife.

! S-rs, T-t, D-ett, M-gue,
G-y, S-ld, Cb, P-ke, V-n, you,
Who fuffer Bl-re to infult your Taste,
And tamely hear him blufter in Bombaft,
Bid him, before he dare to write agen,
Refign his own, and take fome other Pen.
D-n fhall Numbers, C-ve Wit infpire,
Dr-ke's nicest Rules, but B.-le and Codron's Fire. .
Then G-rth shall teach him, and his witless Tribe,
First to write Senfe, and after to prescribe.
The unlearn'd Pedant thus may please the Town,
But his own naufeous Trafh will ne'er go down;
For nought can equal what the Bard has writ,
But R-f's Scholarship, and G-

n's Wit.

A mo

A modeft Requeft to the Poetical Knight..
By Col. Codrington.

Ince B-y's Nonfenfe to out-do you strive,

Svars to be thought the dulleft Wretch alive,

And fuch inimitable Strains have writ,

That the most famous Blockheads muft.fubmit;
Long may you reign, and long unenvy'd live,
And none invade your great Prerogative.
But, in Return, your Poetry give o'er,
And perfecute poor Job and us no more.

Wholefome Advice to a City Knight, over-run with Rhimes and Hypocrify: Occafion'd by his Satyr against Wit.

By the Right Honourable the Earl of Anglesea..

WE

bid thee

not give o'er the Killing-Trade: Whilft Fees come in, 'tis fruitless to diffwades Religion is a Trick you've practis'd long, To bring in Pence, and gull the gaping Throng, But all thy Patients now perceive thy Aim, They find thy Morals and thy Skill the fame. Then, if thou would'ft thy Ignorance redrefs, Prithee, mind Phyfick more, and Rhiming less..

ES