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Show'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely press'd Rufa, whose eye, quick glancing o'er the Park, By his own son, that passes by unbless'd:
Attracts each light gay meteor of a spark, Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees, Agrees as ill with Rufa studying Locke, And envies every sparrow that he sees.
As Sappho's diamonds with her dirty sinock; A salmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate;
Or Sappho at her toilet's greasy task, The doctor calld, declares all help too late: (240 With Sappho fragrant at an evening mask: “ Mercy !" cries Helluo,“ mercy on my soul ! So morning insects, that in muck begun, Is there no hope? --Alas !-then bring the jowl." Shine, buzz, and ily-blow in the setting-sun.
The frugal crone, whom praying priests attend, How soft is Silia ! fearful to offend; Still strives to save the hallow'd taper's end, The frail-one's advocate, the weak-one's friend. 30 Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires,
To her Calista prov'd her conduct nice; For one puff more, and in that puff expires, And good Simplicius asks of her advice.
“ Odious! ¡n woollen ! 'twould a saint provoke,” Sudden, she storms! she raves! You tip the wink, (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke) But spare your censure; Silja does not driok.
No, let a charming chintz and Brussel's lace, All eyes may see from what the change arose,
The courtier smooth, who forty years had shin'd A park is purchas'd, but the fair he sees an humble servant to all human-kind, (stir, All bath'd in tears—“ Oh odigus, odious trecs !” 40 Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue could Ladies, like variegated tulips, show, “ If—where I'm goingI could serve you, sir !" "Tis to their changes half their charms we owe ; “I give and I devise” (old Euclio said,
Fine by defect, and delicately weak, And sigh'd) “my lands and tenements to Ned,”. Their happy spots the nice admirer take. Your money, sir ?>" My money, sir, what all ? 'Twas thus Calypso once each heart alarm'l,
Why,-if I must”-(then wept) “ I give it Paul." Awd without virtue, without beauty charın'd The manor, sir ?_“ The manor! hold, he cry'd. Her tongue bewitch'd as oduly as her eyes, “Not that, I cannot part with that,”—and dy'd. Less wit than minic, more a wit than wise;
And you ! brave Cobham, to the latest breath, Strange graces still, and stranger Nights she had,
Narcissa's nature, tolerably inild,
Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a lover's prayer,
And paid a tradesman once to make him stare;
Gave alms at Easter, in a Christian triin,
And made a wirlow happy, for a whim.
finished than this epistle: yet its success was in When 'tis by that alone she can be borne? 60 po proportion to the pains he took in composing Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name? it. Something he chanced to drop in a short A fool to pleasure, yet a slave to fame: advertisement prefixed to it, on its first publica- Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs, tion, may perhaps account for the small atten- Now drinking citron with his grace and Chartres; tion given to it. He said that no one character Now conscience chills her, and now passion burns in it was drawn from the life. The public be- And atheism and religion take their turns; lieved him on his word, and expressed little A very Heathen in the carnal part, curiosity about a satire, in which there was Yet still a sad good Christian at her heart. nothing personal,
See Sin in state, majestically drunk,
Proud as a peeress, prouder as a punk; Nothing so true as what you once let fall, Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside, “ Most women have no characters at all."
A teeming mistress, but a barren bride. Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear,
What tben? let blood and body bear the fault, And best distinguish'ci by black, brown, or fair, Her head's untouch'd, that noble seat of thought;
How many pictures of one nymph we view, Such this day's doctrine--in another fit All how unlike each other, all how true!
She sins with poets through pure love of wit. Arcadia's countess, here, in ermin’d pride, What has not fir'd her bosom or her brain? Is there, Pastora by a fountain sire.
Cæsar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charlemagne. Here Pannia, leering on her own good man, As Helluo, late dictator of the feast, And there, a naked Leda with a swan.
10 The nose of Haut-gout, and the tip of Taste, 80 Let then the fair-one beautifully cry,
Critiqu’d your wine, and analyz'd your meat, In Magdalene's loose hair, and lifted eye,
Yet on plain pudding deign'd at home to eat; Or drest in smiles of sweet Cecilia shine,
So Pivilomedė, lecturing all mankind
Come then, the colours and the ground prepare!
Ver. 77. What has not fir'd, &c.] In the MS. Chuse a firm cloud, before it fall, and in it [20
In whose mad brain the mix'd ideas rol, Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute. Of Tall-boy's breeches, and of Cæsar's soul.
Th' address, the delicacy-stoops at once,
Atossa, curs’d with every granted prayer, Aud makes her hearty meal upon a dunce.
Childless with all her children, wants an heir. Flavia's a wit, has too much sense to pray;
To heirs unknown descends th’unguarded store, To toast our wants and wishes, is her way; Or wanders, Heaven-directed, to the poor. 150 Nor asks of God, but of her stars, to give
Pictures, like these, dear madam, to design, The mighty blessing, “while we live, to live.” 90 Asks no firm hand, and no unerring line; Then all for death, that opiate of the soul! Some wandering touches, some reflected light, Lucretia's dagger, Rosamonda's bowl.
Some flying stroke alone can hit them right: Say, what can cause such impotence of mind ? For how should equal colours do the knack? A spark too fickle, or a spouse too kind.
Chameleons who can paint in white and black? Wise wretch! with pleasures too refin'd to please ; “ Yet Chloe sure was form'd without a spot.”With too much spirit to be e'er at ease;
Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot. With too much quickness ever to be taught; “ With every pleasing, every prudent part, (160 With too much thinking to have common thought: Say, what can Chloe want?”—She wants a heart. You purchase pain with all that joy can give, She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought; And die of nothing but a rage to live.
100 But never, never reach'd one generous thought. Turn then from wits; and look on Simo's mate,
Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour,
Content to dwell in decencies for ever.
Can mark the figures on an Indian chest;
Forbid it Heaven, a favour or a debt
She e'er should cancel-but she may forget.
But none of Chloe's shall you ever hear.
But what are these to great Atossa's mind ? She bids her footman put it in her head. Scarce once herself, by turns all womankind ! Chloe is prudent-Would you too be wise? Who, with herself, or others, from her birth Then never break your heart when Chloe dies. 180 Finds all her life one warfare upon Earth :
One certain portrait may (I grant) be seen, Shines, in exposing knaves, and painting fools, Which Heaven has varnish'd out, and inade a queen: Yet is, whate'er she hates and ridicules. 120 | The same for ever! and describ'd by all No thought advances, but her eddy brain
With truth and goodness, as with crown and ball. Whisks it about, and down it goes again.
Poets heap virtues, painters gems at will, Full sixty years the world has been her trade, And show their zcal, and hide their want of skill. The wisest fool much time has ever inade.
"Tis well-but, artists! who can paint or write, From loveless youth to unrespected age,
To draw the naked is vour true delight. No passion gratify'd, except her rage,
That robe of quality so struts and swells, So much the fury still outran the wjt,
None see what parts of Nature it conceals : 190 The pleasure mist her, and to scandal hit. Th’exactest traits of body or of inind, Who breaks with her, provokes revenge from We owe to models of an humble kind. Hell,
If Queensberry to strip there's no compelling, But he's a bolder man who dares be well. 150 'Tis from a handmaid we must take a Helen. Her every turn with violence pursued,
From peer or bishop 'tis no easy thing Nor more a storin her hate than gratitude : To draw the man who loves his God, or king : To that each passion turns, or soon or late; Alas! I copy (or my draught would fail) Love, if it makes her yield, must make her hate : From honest Mah’met, or plain parson Hale. Superiors ? death! and equals? what a curse ! But grant, in public men sometimes are shown, But an inferior not dependant ? worse.
A woman's seen in private life alone:
200 Offend her, and she knows not to forgive; Oblige her, and she'll hate you while you live: But die, and she'll adore you— Then the bust After ver. 148, in the MS. And temple rise-then fall again to dust. 140 This Death decides; nor lets the blessing fall Last night, ber lord was all that's good and great ; On any one she hates, but on them all. A knave this morning, and his will a cheat.
Curs'd chance! this only could affliet her more, Strange! by the means de feated of the ends,
If any part shouldl wander to the poor.
After ver. 198, in the MS.
Fain I'dd in Fulvia spy the tender wife;
Thus while immortal Cibber only sings kings, After ver. 122, in the MS.
(As Clarke and Hoadly preach) for queens and Oppress'd with wealth and wit, abundance sad !
The nymph that ne'er read Milton's mighty line, One makes her poor, the other makes her mad.
Alay, if slie love and inerit verse, have mine.
Qür bolder talents in full life display'd;
Let fops or Fortune fly which way they will, Your virtues open fairest in the shade.
Disdains all loss of tickets, or codille ; Bred to disguise, in public 'tis vou hide ;
Spleen, vapours, or small-pox, above them all, There, none distinguish 'twixt your shame or pride. And mistress of herself, though china fall. Weakness or delicacy ; all so nice,
And yet, believe me, good as well as ill, That each may seem a virtue, or a vice.
Woman's at best a contradiction still.
270 In men we various ruling passions tind;
Heaven when it strives to polish all it can In women, two almost divide the kind :
Its last best work, but forms a softer man; Those, only fix'd, they first or last obey,
Picks from each sex, to make the favourite blest, The love of pleasure, and the love of sway. 210 | Your love of pleasure, our desire of rest :
That, Nature gives; and where the lesson taught Blends, in exception to all general rules,
Courage with softness, modesty with pride;
Shakes all together, and produces-you. 280
Toasts live a scom, and queens may die a jest. Yet mark the fate of a whole sex of queens ! This Phæbus promis'd (I forget the year) Power all their end, but bcauty all the means: 220 When those bine eyes first open'd on the sphere ; In youth they conquer with so wild a rage,
Ascendant Phabus watch'd that hour with carc, As leaves them scarce a subject in their age : Averted half your parents' simple prayer; For foreign glory, foreign joy, they roam; And gave you beauty, but deny'd the pelf No thought of peace or happiness at home. That buys your sex a tyrant o'er itself. But wisdom's triumph is well-tim'd retreat, The generous god, who wit and gold refines, As hard a science to the fair as great!
And ripens spirits as he ripens inines, 290 Beauties, like tyrants, old and friendless grown, Kept dross for dutchesses, the world shall know it, Yet hate repose, and dread to be alone,
To you gave sense, good-humour, and a poet. Worn-out in public, weary every eye, Nor Icave one sigh behind them when they die. 230
Pleasures the sex, as children birds, pursue,
TO ALLEN, LORD BATHURST.
That it is known to few, most falling into one of
the extremes, avarice or profusion, ver. 1, &c. So these their merry, miserable night; 240
The point discussed, whether the invention of Still round and round the ghosts of beauty glide,
money has been inore commodioris or pernici. And haunt the places where their honour dy'd.
ous to mankind, ver. 21 to 77. That riches,
either to the avaricious or the proligal, cannot See how the world its veterans rewards! A youth of frolics, an old-age of carils;
atlord happiness, scarcely necessaries, ver. 89
to 160. That avarice is an absolute frenzy, Fair to no purpose, artful to no end; Young without lovers, old without a friend ;
without an end or purpose, ver. 113, &c. 152. A fop their passion, but their prize a sot ;
Conjectures about the motives of avaricious Alive, ridiculous; and dead, forgot !
men, ver. 121 to 153. That the conduct of Ah ! friend! to dazzle let the vain design ; [250
men, with respect to riches, can only be acTo raise the thought, and touch the heart, be thine!
counted for by the order of Providence, which That charm shall grow, while what fatigues the ring,
works the general good out of cxtremes, and Flaunts and goes down, an unregarded thing :
brings all to its great end by perpetual revoluSo when the Sun's broad beam has tir'd the sight,
tions, ver. 161 to 178. How a miser acts upon All mild ascends the Moon's more sober light,
principles which appear to him reasonable, ver. Serene in virgin modesty she shines,
179. How a prodigal does the same, ver. 199. And unobserv'd the glaring orb declines.
The due medium, and true use of riches, ver. Oh! blest with temper, whose unclouded ray
219. The man of Ross, ver. 250. The fate of Can make to morrow chearful as to day:
the profuse and the covetous, in two examples ; She, who can love a sister's charms, or hcar
both miserable in life and in death, ver. 300, &c. Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear; 260
The story of Sir Balaam, ver. 339 to the end. She who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules ; Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, Yet has her humour most, when she obeys;
This Epistle was written after a violent outcry
against our anthor, on a supposition that he had ridiculed a worthy nobteman merely for his wrong taste.
He justified himself upon that Ver. 207, in the first edition :
articte in a letter to the earl of Bulington ; at In several men we several passions find;
the end of which are these words : “ I have In women, two almost divide the kind,
learnt that there are some who would rather
ON THE USE OE RICHES.
be wicked than ridiculous : and therefore it | A statesman's slumbers how this speech would spoilt may be safer to attack vices than follies. I will “Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oil; therefore leave my betters in the quiet posses. Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door ; sion of their idols, their groves, and their high- A bundred oxen at your levee roar," places; and change my subject from their pride Poor Avarice one torment more would find ; to their meanness, from their vanities to their Nor could Prufusion squander all in kind. 80 miseries; and as the only certain way to avoid | Astride his cheese sir Morgan might we meet : misconstructions, to lessen offence, and not to And Worldly crying coals from street to street, multiply ill-natured applications, I may proba- Whom, with a wig so wild, and mien so maz'd, bly in my next make use of real names instead Pity inistakes for some poor tradesman craz'd. of fictitious ones."
Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and hogs,
Could he hinself have sent it to the dogs ? P. Who shall decide when doctors disagree,
His grace will game: to White's a bull be led, And soundest casuísts doubt, like you and me!
With spurning heels and with a butting head.
To White's be carry'd, as to ancient games,
Fair coursers, vases, and alluring dames. YO
Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep,
Bear home six whores, and make his lady weep? But I, who think more highly of our kind,
Or soft Adonis, so perfuind and fine,
Drive to St. James's a whole herd of swine? (And, surely, Heaven and I are of a mind)
Oh filthy check on all industrious skill,
To spoil the nation's last great trade, quadrille! But when, by man's audacious labour won,
Since then, my lord, on such a world we fall, Flam'd forth this rival too, its sire, the Sun,
What say you? B. Say? Why take it, gold and all, Then careful Heaven supply'd two sorts of
P. What riches give us, let us then inquire ? men,
Meat, fire, and clothes, B. What more? P. Meat, To squander these, and those to hide again. Like doctors thus, when much dispute has past, Is this too little would you more than live ?
clothes, and fire.
80 We find our tenets just the same at last,
Alas! 'Tis more than Turner finds they give,
Alas! 'tis more than (all his visions past)
Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at last !
What can they give i to dying Hopkins, heirs ; B. What nature wants, commodious gold bestows;
To Chartres, vigour ; Japhet, nose and ears? 'Tis thus we eat the bread another sows.
Can they, in gems bid pallid Hippia glow, P. But how unequal it bestows, observe ;
Fulvia', buckle ease the throbs below; 'Tis thus we riot, while, who sow it, starve :
Or heal, old Narses, thy obscener ail, What nature wants (a phrase I must distrust)
With all th' embroidery plaister'd at thy tail ? 90 Extends to luxury, extends to lust :
They might (were Harpax not too wise to spend) l'seful, I grant, it serves what life requires,
Give Harpax self the blessing of a friend ;
Or find some doctor that would save the life
Of wretched Shylock, spite of Shylock's wife;
But thousands die, without or this or that, P. But lures the pirate, and corrupts the friend.
Die, and endow a college, or a cat, B. It raises armies in a nation's aid : P. But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd. To some, indeed, Heaven grants the happier fate,
T” enrich a bastard, or a son they hate, In vain may heroes fight, and patriots rave,
Periaps you think the poor might have their part; If secret gold sap on from knave to knave. Once we confess, beneath the patriot's cloak,
Bond damns the poor, and hates them from his beart:
The grave sir Gilbert holds it for a rule From the crack'd bag the dropping Guinea spoke,
That every man in want is knave or fool : And jingling down the back-stairs, told the crew, “ oid Cato is as great a rogue as you."
“God cannot love" (says Blunt, with tearless eyes)
“ The wretch he starves'sand piously denies : Blest Paper-credit! Jast and best supply!
But the good bishop, with a meeker air,
Yet to be just to these poor men of peif,
Each does but hate his neighbour as himself :
Daino'd to the mines, an equal fate betides [110 Or ship off senates to some distant shore ;
The slave that digs it, and the slave that hides. A leaf, like Sibyl's, scatter to and fro
B. Who suffer thus, mere charity should own, Our fates and fortunes, as the wind shall blow : Pregnant with thousands flits the scrap unseen,
Must act on motives powerful, though unknown. And silent sells a king, or buys a queen.
P. Some war, some plague, or famine, they foresee,
Some revelation hid from you and me.
Why Shylock wants a meal, the cause is found; 50
He thinks a loaf will rise to fifty pound. Could France or Rome divert our brave designs,
What made directors cheat in South-Sea year? With all their brandies, or with all their wines ? What could they more than knights and 's uires To live on venison when it sold so dear. Or waterall the quorum ten miles round? (confound, VARIATION,
Ver. 77. Since then, &c ] In the former edit. After ver. 50, in the MS. 'To break a trust were Peter brib'd with wine,
Well then, since with the world we stand or fall, Peter! 'twould pose as wise a head as thine.
Come take it, as we find it, gold and all.
Ask you why Phryne the whole auction buys? No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor sound, Phryne foresees a general excise.
120 No noontide bell invites the country round : 190 Wby she and Sappijo raise that monstrous sum? Tenants with sighs the smúakless towers survey, Alas! they fcar a man will cost a plum.
And turn th' unwilling steeds another way : Wise Peter sees the world's respect for gold, Benighted wanderers, the forest o'er, And therefore hopes this nation may be sold : Curs'd the sav'd candle, and unopening door; Glorious ambition ! Peter, swell thy store, ! While the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate, And be what Romne's great Didius was before. Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat. The crown of Poland, venal twice an age,
Not so his son: he mark’: this oversight, To just three millions stinted modest Gage. And then mistook reverse of wrong for right. But nobler scenes, Maria's dreams unfold, (For what to shun, will no great knowledge need; Hereditary realms, and worlds of gold. 130 But what to follow, is a task indeed.)
200 Congenial souls; whose life one avarice joins, Yet sure, of qualities deserving praise, And one fate buries in th’ Asturian mines.
More go to ruin fortunes, than to raise. Mach-injur'd Blunt ! 'why bears he Britain's What slaughter'd hecatombs, what Acods of wine, A wizard told him in these words our fate : (hate? Fill the capacious 'squire, and deep divine ! • At length Corruption, like a general food, Yet no mean motives this profusion draws, (So long by watchful ministers withstood)
His oxen perish in bis country's cause ; Shall deluge all; and Avarice, creeping on, 'Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup, Spread like a low born mist, and blot the Sun; And zal for that great house which eats him up. Statesman and patriot ply alike the stocks, The woo-ls recede around the naked seat, Peeress and butler share alike the box, 140 The Sylvans groan-no matter--for the fleet : 210 And judges job, and bishops bite the town, Next goes his wool—to clothe our valiant bands: And mighty dukes pack cards for half a crown. Last, for his country's love, he sells his lands. See Britain sunk in Lucre's sorriid charms, To town he comes, completes the nation's hope, And France revengd of Anne's and Edward's arms!” And heads the boid train-bands, and burns a pope 'Twas no court-badge, great scrivener, fir'd thy | And shall not Britain now reward his toils, Nor lordly luxury, nor city gain : (brain, Britain that pays her patriots with her spoils ? No, 'twas thy righteous enil, asham'd to see In vain at court the bankrupt pleads his cause, Senates degenerate, patriots disagree,
His thankless country leaves him to her laws. And nobly wishing party-rage to cease,
The sense to value riches, with the art To buy both sides, and give thy country peace. 130T" enjoy them, and the virtue to impart, 220
“ All this is madness," cries a sober sage: Not meanly, nor ambitiously pursued, But who, my friend has reason in his rage? Not sunk by sloth, nor rais'd by servitude; “ The ruling passion, be it what it will,
To balance fortune by a just expense, The ruling passion conquers reason still."
Join with econoiny, magnificence; Less mad the wildest whimsay we can frame, With splendour, charity; with plenty, health; Than even that passion, if it has no aim;
Oh teach us, Bathurst! yet unspoil'd by wealth! For though sach motives folly you may call, That secret rare, between th' extremes to move The folly's greater to have none at all. (sends, Of mad Good-nature, and of mean Self-love.
Hear then the truth : “ 'Tis Heaven each passion B. To worth or want well-weigh'd, be bounty And different men directs to different ends. 160
given, Extremes in Nature equal good produce,
And ease, or emulate, the care of Heaven; 230 Extremes in man concur to general use."
(Whose measure full o'erflows on human race) Ask we what makes one keep, and one bestow ? Mend Fortune's fault, and justify her grace. That Power who bids the ocean ebb and fow, Wealth in the gross is death, but life diffus'd; Bids seed-time, harvest, equal course maintain, As poison heals, in just proportion us'd : Through reconcil'd extremes of drought and, rain, In heaps, like ambergris, a stink it lies, Builds life on death, on change duration founds, But well dispers’d, is incense to the skies. Aid gives th' eternal wheels to know their rounds. P. Who starves by nobles, or with nobles eats ?
Riches, like insects, when conceal'd they lie, The wretch tbat trusts them, and the rogue that Wait but for wings, and in their season fly. 170 Is there a lord, who knows a chearful noon (cheats. Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store, Without a fiddler, flatterer, or buffoon? 240 Sees but a backward steward for the poor ;
Whose table, Wit, or modest Merit share,
Un-elbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player?
Where one lean herring furnish'd Cotta's board, Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth :
And nettles grew, fit porridge for their lord ; What though (the use of barbarous spits forgot)
Where mad Good-nature, bounty misapply'd, His kitchen vied in coolness with bis grot?
In lavish Curio blaz'd awhile, and dy'd; His court with nettles, moats with cresses stord,
There Providence once more shall shift the scene, With soups unbought and sallads bless'd his board?
And showing 1-y, teach the golden mean. If Cotta liv'd on pulse, it was no more Than Bramins, saints, and sages did before;
After ver. 226, in the MS. To cram the rich, was prodigal expense,
The secret rare, which Affluence hardly join'd, and who would take the poor from Providence?
Which W-n lost, yet B--y ne'er could find : Like some lone Chartreux stands the good old Hall,
Still miss'd by Vice, and scarce by Virtue hit, Silence without, and fasts within the wall ;
By G-'s goodness, or by So's wit.