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How wouldst thou shake at Britain's modifh Tribe,
Dart the quick Taunt, and edge the piercing Gibe?
Attentive Truth and Nature to decry,
And pierce each Scene with philosophic Eye.
To thee were solemn Toys or empty Shew,
The Robes of Pleasure and the Veils of Woe:
All aid the Farce, and all thy Mirth maintain,
Whose Joys are causeless, or whose Griefs are vain.

Such was the Scorn that fill'd the Sage's Mind,
Renew'd at ev'ry Glance on human Kind;
How just that Scorn ere yet thy Voice declare,
Search every State, and canvass ev'ry Prayer. [Gate,

(e) Unnumber'd Suppliants crowd Preferment's Athirst for Wealth, and burning to be Great ; Delusive Fortune hears th’incessant Call, They mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall. On ev'ry Stage the Foes of Peace attend, Hate dogs their Flight, and Insult mocks their End. Love ends with Hope, the finking Statesman's Door Pours in the morning Worshipper no more; For growing Names the weekly Scribbler lies, To growing Wealth the Dedicator flies, From ev'ry Room descends the painted Face, That hung the bright Palladium of the Place, And smoak'd in Kitchens, or in Auctions fold, To better Features yields the Frame of Gold; For now no more we trace in ev'ry Line Heroic worth, Benevolence divine: The Form distorted justifies the Fall, And Detestation rids th’indignant Wall.

But will not Britain hear the last Appeal, Sign her Foes doom, or guard her Fav'rites Zeal ; Thro' Freedom's Sons no more Remonstrance rings, Degrading Nobles and controuling Kings; Our supple Tribes repress their Patriot Throats, And ask no Questions but the Price of Votes;

(e) Ver. 56-107.

With weekly Libels and feptennial Ale,
Their Wish is full to Riot and to Rail.

In full-blown Dignity, fee Wolfey stand,
Law in his Voice, and Fortune in his Hand :
To him the Church, the Realm, their Pow'rs consign,
Thro' him the Rays of regal Bounty, shine,
Still to new Heights his restless Wishes tow'r,
Claim leads to Claim, and Pow'r advances Pow'r;
Till Conquest unresisted ceas’d to please,
And Rights submitted left him none to seize.
At length his Sou'reign frowns--the Train of State
Mark the keen Glance, and watch the Sign to hate.
Where-e'er he turns he meets a Stranger's Eye,
His Suppliants scorn him, and his Followers fly;
At once is lost the Pride of awful State,
The golden Canopy, the glite’ring Plate,
The regal Palace, the luxurious Board,
The liv'ried Army, and the menial Lord.
With Age, with Cares, with Maladies oppress’d,
He seeks the Refuge of monastic Rest.
Grief aids Disease, remember'd Folly stings,
And his last Sighs reproach the Faith of Kings.
Speak thou, whose Thoughts at humble Peace re.

pine, Shall Wolfey's Wealth, with Wolfey's End be thine? Or liv'st thou now, with safer Pride content, The wiseft Justice on the Banks of Trent? For why did Wolsey near the Steeps of Fate, On weak Foundations raise th' enormous Weight:? Why but to sink beneath Misfortune's Blow, With louder Ruin to the Gulphs below?

What (f) gave great Villiers to th’Afassin's Knise, And fix'd Disease on Harley's clofing Life? What murder'd Wentworth, and what exil'd Hyde ? By Kings protected, and to Kings ally'd ? What but their With indulg'd in Courts to shine, And Pow'r too great to keep, or to resign?

When (f) Ver. 108~213.

When (g) first the College-rolls receive his Name, The young Enthusiast quits his Ease for Fame; Through all his Veins the Fever of Renown Spreads from the strong Contagion of the Gown; O'er Bodley's Dome his future Labours spread, And * Bacon's Mansion trembles o'er his Head. Are these thy Views? proceed, illustrious Youth, And Virtue guard thee to the Throne of Truth ! Yet should thy Soul indulge the gen'rous Heat, Till captive Science yields her last Retreat ; Should Reafon guide thee with her brightest Ray, And pour on misty Doubt refiftless Day; Should no false Kindness lure to loose Delight, Nor Praise relax, nor Difficulty fright; Should tempting Novelty thy Cell refrain, And Sloth effuse her opiate Fumes in vain ; Should Beauty blunt on Fops her fatal Dart, Nor claim the Triumph of a letter'd Heart; Should no Diseate thy torpid Veins invade, Nor Melancholy's Phantoms haunt thy Shade ; Yet hope noi Life from Grief or Danger free, Nor think the Doom of Man revers'd for thee: Deign on the palling World to turn thine Eyes, And pause awhile from Letters, to be wise ; There mark what Ills the Scholar's Life affail, Toil, Envy, Want, the Patron, and the Jail. See Nations flowly wife, and incanly just, To buried Merit raise the tardy Lust. If Dreams yet flatter, once again attend, Hear Lidiat's Life, and Galileo's End.

Nor deem, when Learning her latt Prize bestows, The glitt'ring Eminence exempt from Woes ; See when the Vulgar 'scape, despis'd or aw'd, Rebellion's vengeful Talons seize on Laud.

(6; Ver. 114-132. * There is a Tradition, that the S!uły of Friar Bacon, built on an Arch over the Bridge, will fall, when a Man.greater than l'acon fhalt pass under it.


From meaner Minds, tho' smaller Fines content
The plunder'd Palace, or fequefter'd Rent;
Mark'd out by dangerous Parts he meets the Shock,
And fatal Learning leads him to the Block:
Around his Tomb let Art and Genius weep,
But hear his Death, ye Blockheads, hear and sleep.

The (i) festal Blazes, the triumphal Show,
The ravish'd Standard, and the captive Foe,
The Senate's Thanks, the Gazette's pompous Tale,
With Forçe 'reliftlefs o'er the Brave prevail.
Such Bribes the rapid Greek o'er Afia whirld,
For such the steady Romans fhook the World ;
For fuch in distant Lands the Britons shine,
And stain with Blood the Danube or the Rhine;
This Pow'r has Praise, that Virtue fcarce can warm,
Till Fame supplies the universal Charm.
Yet Reason frowns on War’s unequal Game,
Where wasted Nations raise a single Name,
And mortgag'd States their GrandGres Wreaths re-

gret, From Age to Age in everlafling Debt, Wreaths which at last the dear-bought Right convey To rust on Medals, or on Stones decay. On (k) what Foundation stands the Warrior's

Pride, How just his Hopes let Swedish Charles decide ; A Frame of Adamant, a Soul of Fire, No Dangers fright him, and no Labours tire ; O'er Love, o'er Fear extends his wide Domain, Unconquer'd Lord of Pleasure and of Pain ; No Joys to him pacific Scepters yield, War sounds the Trump, he rushes to the Field ; Behold surrounding Kings their Pow'r combine, And one capitulate, and one resign; Peace courts his Hand, but Ipreads her Charms in vain ; • Think nothing gain’d, he cries, till Nought remain,

(i) Ver. 133–146.

(k) Ver. 147-167.

• On

« On Moscow's Walls till Gothick Standards fly,

And all be mine beneath the polar Sky.' The March begins in military State, And Nations on his Eye suspended wait; Stern Famine guards the folitary Coast, And Winter barricades the Realm of Frost ; He comes, not Want and Cold his Course delay; Hide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa's Day: The vanquish'd Hero, leaves his broken Bands, And shews his Miseries in distant Lands ; Condemn'd a needy Supplicant to wait, While Ladies interpose, and Slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her Error mend? Did no subverted Empire mark his End? Did rival Monarchs give the fatal Wound? Or hostile Millions press him to the Ground? His Fall was destin'd to a barren Strand, A petty Fortress, and a dubious Hand; He left the Name, at which the World grew pale, To point a Moral, or adorn a Tale. All (1) Times their Scenes of pompous Woes af

ford, From Persia's Tyrant, to Bavarid's Lord. In gay Hostility, and barb'rous Pride, With half Mankind embattled at his Side, Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain Prey, And starves exhausted Regions in his Way; Attendant Flatt'ry counts his Myriads o'er, Till counted Myriads footh his Pride no more ; Fresh Praise is try'd till Madness fires his Mind, The Waves he lashes, and enchains the Wind; New Pow'rsare claim'd, new Pow'rs are still bestow'd, Till rude Resistance lops the fpreading God; The daring Greek derides the martial Show, And heaps their Vallies with the gaudy Foe ;

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