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But random praise--the task can ne'er be done: P. 'Faith, it imports not much from whom Each mother asks it for her booby son:
it canie; Each widow asks it for the best of men; Whoever borrow'd could not be to blame, For him she weeps, for hin she weals again. Since the whole House did afterwards the raine. Praise cannot stoop, like satire, to the ground: Let courtly wits to wits afford supply, The number inay be hang'd, but not be crown'd. As log to hog in huts of Westphaly; Enough for half the greatest of these days, If one thro' nature's bounty, or bis lord's, To 'scape my concure, not expect my praise. Has what the frugal dirty soil atfords, Are they noi rich? what more can they pretend l'rom him the next receives it, thick or thin, Dare they to hope a poet for their friend As pure a iness almost as it came in : What Richlicu wanted, Louis scarce could gain: The blessed benefit, not there confin'd, And what young Ammon wishid, but wish'd in Drops to the third, who nuzzles close behind : vain?
From tail to month they feed and they carvuse; No pow's the Muse's friendship can command; The last full fairly gives it to the House. Nopow'r, when virtue claims it, can withstand: F. This filthy simile, this beastly line To Culo, Virgil pay'd one honest line ; Quite turns my stomach O let my country's friends illumine mine!
P. So does flattory mine: What are you thinking: F. 'Faith, the And all your courtly Civet-cats can vent, thoughi's no sin;
Perfuine to you, to me is excrement. I think your friends are out, and would be in. But hear me farther - Japhet, 'tis agreed,
P. Il merely to come in, Sir, they go out, Writ not,andChartres scarce could write or read, The way they take is strangely round about. In all the Courts of Pindus guiltless quite;
F. They too may be corrupted, you 'll allow. But pens can forge, my friend, that cannot P. I only call those knaves who are so now.
write ; Is that too little? Come then, I'll comply And must no cag in Japhet's face be thmwn, Spirit of Arnall! aid me while I lie.
Because the deed he forg'd was not iny own? Cobham's a wiward, Polwart is a slave; Must never Patriot then declaim at gin, And Lyttleton a dark, designing knave; Unless, good man! he has been fairly in? St. John has ever been a wealthy fool - No zealous pastor blame a failing spouse, But let me add, Sir Robert 's mighty dull; Without a staring reason on his brows? Has nerer made a friend in private life, And each blasphemer quite escape the rod, And was, besides, a tyrant to his wife. Because the insult 's not on man, but God?
But pray, when others praise him, do I Ask you what provocation I have had?
Whatshall cach pur-gail'd hackneyofthedar, Mine, as a foe profest to false pretence, (yours.
P. So proud, I am no slave
It anger'd Turenne, once upon a day, Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, To see a footman kick'd that took his pay: Yet touch'd and shain'd by ridicule alone. But when he heard th' affront the fellow gave, O sacred weapon ! left for truth's defence ; Knew one a man of honor, one a knave; Sole dread of folly, vice, and insolence! The prudent gen’ral turn'd it to a jest, (rest: To all but Heaven-directed hands denied, And beugd he'd take the pains to kick the The Nsuse may give thee, but thegods must guide; Which not at present having time to do- [you? Rev’rent I touch thee! but with honest zeal; F. Hold, sir, for God's sake, where 's th'affront to To rouse the watchmen of the public weal, . Against your worship when had Smk writ? To virtue's work provoke the tardy hall, Or P-ge pour'd forth the torrent of his wit? And goad the Prelate slumb'ring in his stall. Or grant the Bard whose distich all commend Ye tinsel insects! whom a court maintains, ( In pow'r a serrant, out of pow'r a friend) That counts your beauties only by your stains, To W-le guilty of some venial sin;
Spin all your cobwebs o'er the eye of day! What's that to you, who ne'er was out nor in? The Muse's wing shall brush you all away:
ThePriest whose flattery bedropp'd theCrown, All his Grace preaches, all his Lordship sings, How hurt he you? he only stain'd the gown. All that makes saints of queens,and godsof kings, And low did, pray, the Aorid youth offend, All, all but truth,drops dead-born from the press, Il lose speech you took, and gave it to a friend? Like the last Gazette, or the last address,
Wben go." ”
When black ambition stains a public cause, Scatter your favors on a fop,
Not so, when diadem'd with rays divine, A wise man always is or shou'd Touch'd with the fame that breaks from/ irtue's Be mighty ready to do good; shrine,
But makes a diff'rence in his thonght
Now this I 'll say ; you 'll find in me
in your Honor's ear.
Yes, the last pen for freedom let me draw, In at a corn-loft thro’a chink;
“ Lean as you came, sir, you must
I'ın no such beast, nor his relation; $ 22. IMITATIONS OF HORACE. Pope. Nor one that temperance advance,
Cramın'd to the throat with Ortolans i Imitated in the Manner of Dr. Swift.
Extremely ready to resign
All that may make ine none of mine. Tis true, my Lord, I gave my word Sonth-sea subscriptions take wiso please, I would be with you, June the third;
Leave me but liberty and ease. Chang'd it to August; and, in short, 'Twas what I said to Craggs and Child, liare kept it - as you do at Court,
Who prais d iny modesty, and smild. You huinor me when I am sick,
Give me, I cried (enough for me), Why not when I am splenetic ?
My bread, and independency ! In town what objects could I meet?
So bought an annual rent or two, The shops shut up in ev'ry street,
And liv'd just as you see I do ; And fan'rals black’ning all the doors,
Near Gifty, and without a wife, And yet more melancholy whores :
I trust that sinking fund, my life.
Can I retrench? Yes, mighty well;
A little house, with trees a-row,
And, like its master, very low. The dog-dars are no more the case." There died my father, no man's debtor -'Tis true, brit winter comes apace:
And there I 'll die, nor worse nor bettes.
To set this matter full before ye,
But you may read it, I stop short.
The first part imitated in the year 1714 by Dr. Just as a Seotsman dues his plums.
Swift; the latter part added afterwards. Pray, take themi, sir; enough 's a feast: I've often wish'd that I had clear, " Eat some, and pocket up the rest.”
For life, six hundred pounds a-year,
Of land set out to plant a wood.
Well, now I have all this and more, * To-morrow any appeal comes on; I ask not to increase my store;
" Without your
help the cause is gone-" • But here a grievance seems to lie,
The Duke expects my Lord and you, • All this is mine but till I die;
About some great atlairs, a two« I can 't but think 't would sound more clever “ Put my Lordl Bolingbroke in mind, “ To me, and to my heirs for ever."
“ To get my warrant quickly sign'd: If I ne'er got or lost a groat
“ Consider, 'ris
request." • By any trick or any fault ;
Be satisfied, I'll do my best : • And if I pray by reason's rules,
Then presently he falls to tease. • And not like forty other fools,
“ You may fór certain, if you please ; • As thus: “Vouchsafe, O gracious Maker! “ I doubt not, if his Lordship knew “ To grant me this and t'other acre ; " And, Mr. Dean, one word from you “ Or if it be thy will and pleasure,
"Tis (let me see) three years and more “ Direct my plough to find a treasure ;" (October next it will be four) • But only what iny station fits,
Since Harley bid me first attend, • And to be kept in my right wits :
And chose me for a humble friend ; • Preserve, Almighty Providence !
Would take me in his coach to chat, • Just what you gave me, competence : And question me of this and that ; · And let me in the shades compose
As, What's o'clock,' and How's the wind?" Something in verse as true as prose;
Whose charjot 's that we left behind ?' « Remov'd from all th' ambitious scene, Or gravely try to read the lines • Nor puffed by pride, nor sunk by spleen.'
Writ underneath the country signs ; In short, I 'in perfectly content,
Or, · Have you nothing new to-day Let me but live on this side Trent;
From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?' Nor cross the Channel twice a-year,
Such tattle often entertains
As once a week we trarel down
To Windsor, and again to Town, “ Lewis, the Dean will be of use;
Where all that passes inter nos “ Send for him up, take no excuse.
Might be proclaim d at Charing-Cross. The toil, the danger of the seas,
Yet some I know with envy swell, Great ministers ne'er think of these ;
Because they see me used so well : Or let it cost five hundred pound,
" How think you of our friend the Dean? No matter where the money 's found : “ I wonder what some people mean; It is but so much more in debt,
“ My Lord and he are grown so great, And that they ne'er consider'd yet.
Always together tête-à-tête ; " Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, " What, they admire him for his jokes « Let my Lord know you 're come to town."
“ Sec but the fortune of some folks!” I hurry me in haste away,
There flies about a strange report Not thinking it is levee-day ;
Of some express arriv'd at Court: And find his Honor in a pound,
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechis'd in ev'ry street.
Faith, Sir, you know as much as I.
“ 'Tis now no secret" - I protest Another, in a surly fit,
"Tis one to me" Then tell us, pray, Tells me I have more zeal than wit :
“ When are the troops to have their pay?" “ So eager to express your love,
And, tho' I solemnly declare • You ne'er consider whom you shove, I know no more than my Lord Mayor, “ But rudely press before a Duke."
They stand amaz'd, and think me grows I own I am pleas'd with this rebuke,
The closest mortal ever known.
Thus, in a sea of folly tost,
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my country scat! Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
There, leaning near a gentle brook, Desiring I would stand their friend.
Sleep, or peruse somie antient book; This humbly offers me his case,
And there in sweet oblivion drown That begs my int'rest for a place :
Thosc cares that haunt the court and town. A hundred oiher men's affairs,
Oh charming noons, and nights divine ! Like bees, are humıning in my ears. Or when I sup, or when I dine,
My friends above, my folks below,
Our courtier walks froin dish idish, Chatting and laughing all a-row,
Tastes for his friend of fowl and ish; The beans and bacon set before 'em,
Tells all their names, lays down be la:v, The grace-cup serv'd with all decorum :
est lon! Ah, goutez ç! Each willing to be pleas'd, au please, “ That jelly's rich, this malmese healing; And even the very dogs at ease !
Pray dip your whiskers and you wait in." Here no man praies of idle things,
Was ever such a happy swain ?
He stuffs and swills; and stuffs agin.
“ To eat so much - but all 's so god! But something much more our concern,
“ I have a thousand thanks to give And quite a scandal not to learn :
My lord alone knows how to live." Which is the happier, or the wiser,
No sooner sail, but from the hall A man of njerit, or a miser?
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs and all . Whether we ought to choose our friends “A rat! a rat! clap to the door."For their own worth, or our own ends ? The cat comes bouncing on the floor What good, or better, we may call,
() for the heart of Homer's mice, And what, the very best of all ?
Or gods, to save them in a trice! Our friend Dan Prior told (you know) (It was by Providence, they think, A tale extremely à propos :
For your damu'd stucco has no chink.) Name a town life, and in a trice
“ An't please your Horor," quoth the peasant, He had a story of two mice.
“ This same dessert is not so pleasant : Once on a time, so runs the fable,
“Give me again my hollow tree, A country mouse, right hospitable,
“ A crust of bread and liberty !" Receiv'd a town mouse at his board, Just & a farmer might a lord.
Ah spare me, Venus ! let me, let me rest! lie brought him bacon (nothing lean),
I am not now, alas! the man Pudding that might have pleas'd a dean; As in the 'gentle reign of my queen Anne. Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
Ah sound no more thy soft alarms, But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;
Nor circle sober fifty with thy charms ! Yet, to his guest, tho' no way sparing,
Mother too fierce of dear desires ! He ate himself the rind and paring;
Turn, turn, to willing hearts your wanton fires. Our courrier scarce would touch a bit,
To number five direct your doves,
sloves; But show'd his breeding and his wit: There spread round Murray all your blooming He did his best and second to eat,
Noble and young, who sirikes the heart And cried : “ I vow you 're mighty neat. With ev'ry sprightly, ev'ry decent, part ;
But, Lord! my friend, the savage scene! Equal, the injurd to defend,
Nc, with a hundred arts refin'd,
v you and I :
Shall stretch thy conquests over half the kind : Then spend your life in joy and sport ;
To him each rival shall submit, ** This doctrine, friend, I learn'd at court." Make but his riches equal to his wit.
Then shall thy form the marble grace The vertest hermit in the nation
(Thy Grecian fórin), and Chloe lend the face : May yield, Gorl knows, to strong temptation.
His house embosom'd in the grove, Away they come, thro' thick and thin,
Sacred to social life and social love, To a tall liouse near Lincoln's-Inn :
Shall glitter o'er the pendant green, "Twas on the night of a debate,
Where I'hames reflects the visionary scene : When all their lordships lud sate late.
Thither the silver sounding lyres Behold the place where, if a poet
Shall call the smiling loves and young desires : Shin'd in description, he might show it; There ev'ry grace and Muse shall throng, Tell how the moon-beam trembling falls,
Exalt the dance, or animate the song; And tips with silver all the walls •
There youths and nymphs, in concert gay, Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Shall hail the rising, close the parting day. Gloưsco roufs, and stucco floors :
With me, alas! those joys are o'er; But let it, in a worl, be said,
For ine the vernal garlands bloom 10 more. The moon was up, and men a bed,
Adien, fond hope of mutual fire ! The napkin white, the carpet red:
The still-believing, still renew'd desire ; The guests withdrawn had left the treat, Adieu, the heart-expanding bowl ! And down the mice sat, léte-à-tête.
And all the kind deceivers of the soul!
But why?ah tell me, ah, too dear! Whether this portion of the world were rent Steals down ay cheek th' involuntary tear? By the rude ocean from the continent,
Why wore so fowing, thoughts so free, Or thus created; it was sure design'd Stop, or turi nonsense, at one glance of thee? To be the sacred refuge of mankind. Thee, dret in fancy's airy beam,
Hither th' oppressed shall henceforth resortz Absent I folow thro''tl' extended dream; Justice to crave, and succour, at your court;
I cease, I clasp thy charins, And then your Highness, not for ours alone, And now you burst (ah cruel!) from my arms; But for the world's Proiector shall be known.
And swilly shoot along the Mall, Fame, swifter than your wing'd navy, flies Or softly gide by the Canal;
Through ev'ry land that near the ocean lies ; Now shown by Cynthia's silver ray, Sounding your naina, and telling dreadful neirs And now en rolling waters snatch'd away. To all that piracy and rapine use.
With such a Chief the meanest liation blest, Part of the Ninth Ode of the l'ourlh Book. Might hope to lift her head above the rest ;
What may be thought impossible to do
By us, embraced by the Sea and You? Lest you should think that verse shall jie,
Lords of the world's great waste, the ocean, we Which sounds the silver Thames alova, Whole forests send to reign upon the sea ; Taught on the wings of truth to fly,
And ev'ry coast may trouble or relieve ; Above the reach of vulgar song.
But none can visit us without your leave. Tho' daring Milion sits sublime,
Angels and we have this prerogative, In Spenser native muses play:
That none can at our happy seats arrive; Nor yet shall Waller yield to time,
While we descend at pleasure to invade Nor pensive Cowley's moral lay.
The bad with vengeance, and the good to aid. Sages and chiefs long since had birtlı,
Our little world, the image of the great, Ere Cæsar was, or Newton namd;
Like that, amidst the boundless ocean set, These rais'd new empires o'er the earth, Of her own growth hath all that nature craves; And those new heavens and systems fram'd.
And all that 's rare, as tribute from the waves. Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride!
As Egypt does not on the clouds rely, They had no poet, and they died;
But to the Nile owe's more than to the sky; In vain they schem'd, in vain they bled!
So what our earth, and what our heaven, denies, They had no poet, and are dead.
Onr ever-constant friend, the sea, supplies.
free from the scorching-sun that makes it grow; § 23. A Panegyric to my Lord Protector, of Without the worm, in Persian silks we shine ;
the present Greatness, and joint Interest of And, without planting, drink of ev'ry vine. his Ilighness und this Nation. Waller.
To dig for wealth we weary not our limbs ; While with a strong, and yet a gentle hand, Gold, though the heaviest metal, hither swims: You bridle facuon, and our hearts command, Ours is the harvest where the Indians mow; Protect us from ourselves, and from the toe, Weplough the deep, and reap what others sow. Make us unite, and make us conquer 100.
Things of the noblest kind our own soil breeds; Let partial spirits still aloud complain, Stout are our men, and warlike are our steeds : Think themselves injur'd that they cannot reign; Rome, tho' her eagle thro' the world had flown, And own no liberty, but where ihey may Could never make this island all her own. Wirhout control upon their fellows prey.
Here the third Edward, and the Black Prince too, Above the waves as Neptune show'd his face France-conquring Henry, flourishd; and now To chide the winds and save the Trojan race,
The sea 's our own: and now all nations greet, He safely might old troops to battle lead,