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One moral, or a mere well-natur'd deed,
Can all desert in sciences exceed.
'Tis great delight to laugh at some men's ways; ROBERT MARQUIS OF NORMANBY.
But a much greater to give merit praise.
The days our joys declare ;
Where'er my foolish bent to public good, Was often heard to cry,
Or fonder zeal for some misguided prince, Oh, where is such an other
Shall make my dangerous humour understood, So bless'd by Heaven as I?
For changing ministers for men of sense : A child at first was wanting ;
When, vainly proud to show my public care, Now such a son is sent,
And ev'n asham'd to see three nations fool'd, As parents most lamenting
I shall no longer bear a wretched share In him would find content.
In ruling ill, or being over-rul'd : A child of whom kind Heaven
Then, as old lechers in a winter's night Not only hope bestows,
To yawning hearers all their pranks disclose ; But has already given
And what decay deprives them of delight, Him all our hopes propose.
Supply with vain endeavours to impose : The happy sire's possessing
Just so shall I as idly entertain His share in such a boy,
Some stripling patriots, fond of seeming wise; Adds still a greater blessing
Tell how I still could great employments gain, To all my other joy.
Without concealing truths, or whispering lies! But ah! this shiny weather
Boast of succeeding in my country's cause Became too hot at last ;
Ev'n against some almost too high to blame ; Black clouds began to gather,
Whom, when advanc'd beyond the reach of laws, And all the sky o'ercast.
I oft' had ridiculd to sense and shame: So fierce a fever rages,
Say, I resisted the most potent fraud ; We all fie drown'd in tears;
But friendless merit openly approv'd; And dismal sad presages
And that I was above the being awd Come thundering in our ears.
Not only by my prince, but those hc lov'd: The doubts that made us languish
Who knows but my example then may please Did worse, far worse than kill.
Such noble, hopeful spirits as appear Yet, oh, with all their anguish,
Willing to slight their pleasures and their ease, Would we had doubted still !
For fame and honour? till at last they hear, But why so much digression,
After much trouble bome, and danger run, This fatal loss to show?
The crown assisted, and my country serv'd ; Alas, there's no expression
Without good fortune I had been undone, Can tell a parent's woc !
Without a good estate I might have starv'd.
THE ELECTION OF A POET LAUREAT
ON MR. POPE, AND HIS POEMS.
Encoiniums suit not this censorious time,
And yet so wondrous, so sublime a thing,
A Famous assembly was summond of late :
Came Blackmore, and cry'd, “Look, all these are And so spying one who came only to gaze, my lays,
A hater of verse, and despiser of plays; Bat at present I beg you'd but read my Essays." To him in great form, without any delay, Lampooners and critics rush'd in like a tide,
('Though a zealous fanatic) presented the bay, Stern Dennis and Gildon came first side-by side. All the wits stood astonish'd at hearing the god Apollo confess'd that their lashes had stings, So gravely pronounce an election so odd; But beadles and hangmen were never chose kings. And though Prior and Popc only laugh'd in his face, Steele long had so cunningly manag'd the town,
Most others were ready w sjuk in the place. He could not be blam'd for expecting the crown; Yet some thought the vacancy open was kept, Apolo demurr'd as to granting his wish,
Concluding the bigot would never accept : But wish'd him good luck in his project of fish. But the hypocrite told them, he well understood, Lame Congreve, unable such things to endure,
Though the function was wicked, the stipend was Of Apollo begg'd either a crown or a cure;
good. To refuse such a writer, Apollo was loth,
At last in rush'd Eusden, and cry'd, “ Who shall And almost inclin'd to have granted him both.
have it, When Buckingham came, he scarce card to be Apollo begg'd pardon, and granted his claim;
But I, the true laureat, to whom the king gave it?" seen, Till Phabus desir'd his old friend to walk in;
But vow'd though, till then he ne'er heard of his
ON THE TIMES.
Since in vain our parsons teach,
Vice has lost its very name, And said he would choose him, but that he should
Skill and cozenage thought the same; fear
Only playing well the game.
Foul contrivances we see
Which an aukward child afford
The miser starves to raise a son, To Shippen, Apollo was cold with respect,
But, if once the fool is gone, Since he for the state could the Muses neglect :
Years of thrift scarce serve a day, But said, in a greater assembly he shin'd,
Rake-hell squanders all away.
Husbands seeking for a place,
By petticoats and play:
Carrying girls to comedies,
Having first at sermon slept,
By worse hypocrites than men, When Philips came forth, as starch as a Quaker,
Till Monday comes to cheat again. Whose simple profession's a Pastoral-maker;
Ev'n among the noblest-born,
Moral virtue is a scorn;
Gratitude, but rare at best,
And fidelity a jest.
All our wit but party-mocks,
Sinking side, or falling friend,
Prais'd and wounded, he may starre :
No receipt, to make him rise,
Like inventing loyal lies. call
We, whose ancestors have shin'd
In arts of peace, and fields of fame,
To ill and idleness inclin'd,
Now are grown a public shaine.
Fatal that intestine jar,
ON THE DEITY,
WRETCHED mankind ! void of both strength and Senseless, violent, and base !
more blind : though still worthless
The best I ever spoke, or ever wrote. (thought BANISHED TO BRUSSELS.
But zealous heat exalts the humblest mind;
Perhaps 'tis sacred, and I must obey.
Yet such the subjects, various, and so high, Observ'd those seeds of fortititude and truth,
Stupendous wonders of the Deity!
Miraculous effects of boundless power !
And that as boundless goodness sbining more! In arms more active than ev'n war requird,
All these so numberless my thoughts attend, And in the midst of mighty chiefs admir'd.
Oh where shall I begin, or ever end? Of all Heaven's gifts, no temper is so rare,
But on that theme which ev'n the wise abuse, As so much courage mix'd with so much care. So sacred, so sublime, and so abstruse, When martial fire makes all the spirits boil, Abruptly to break off, wants po excuse. And forces youth to military toil; No wonder it should fiercely then engage :
While others vainly strive to know thee more, Women themselves will venture in a rage:
let me in silent reverence adore; But in the midst of all that furious heat,
Wishing that human power were higher raisid, While so intent on actions brave and great,
Only that thine might be more nobly prais'd! For others' lives to feel such tender fears,
Thrice happy angels in their high degree,
Created worthy of extolling thee!
Oh, wondrous pair! whom equal virtues crown, Oh worthy of each other's vast renown!
Hope to mend Shakespeare! or to match his style! None but Turenne with York could glory share, And none but York deserves so great a master's Too fond of fame, our poet soars too high,
'T'is such a jest would make a Stoic smile.
Yet freely owns he wants the wings to fly :
So sensitle of his presumptuous thought,
That he confesses while he does the fault;
This to the fair will no great wonder prove,
Who oft in blushes yield to what they love.
Of greatest actions, and of noblest men, (Where Mars himself does frowningly command,
This story most deserves a poet's pen : And by lieutenants only fights at land)
For who cau wish a scene more justly fam'd, For his own fame howe'er he fought before,
When Rome and mighty Julius are but nam'd!
That state of heroes who the world had brar'd! For England's honour yet he ventur'd more. In those black times, when, faction raging high, | Yet loth he was to take so rough a way,
That wondrous man who such a state enslar'd! Valour and Innocence were forc'd to fly, With York they fled; but not deprest his mind,
And after govern'd with so mild a sway. Still, like a diamond in the dust, it shin'd.
At distance now of seventeen bundred years,
Methinks a lovely ravisher appears ;
Whom, though forbid by virtue to excuse,
A nynıph might pardon, and could scarce refase.
CHORUSES IN JULIUS CAESAR.
WHITAEr is Roman honour gone?
Where is your ancient virtuc now? The cheerful sight our fainting courage warins,
That valour, which so bright has shone, Fix'd upon that we fear no future harms.
And with the wings of conquest flown,
Must to a haughty master bow:
Who, with our toil, our blood, and all we have beside, * The mareschal de Turenne.
Gorges his ill-got power, bis humour,and his pride
TO THE ALTERATION OF JULIUS CÆSAR.
Fearless he will his life expose;
To kill a man, llis very virtues threaten those,
The greatest since mankind began? Who more his bold ambition fear.
Learned, eloquent, and wise, How stupid wretches we appear,
Generous, merciful, and brave! Who round the world for wealth and empire roam,
The liberty of Rome to save,
But will not goodness claim regard,
And does not worth Jeserve reward?
BOTH SPIRITS TOGETHER.
Though dreadful be this doom of fate, Out of Pride or Envy's way ;
Just is that power which governs all :
Better this wondrous man should fall,
Than a most glorius, virtuous state.
How great a curse has Providence Lo! to prevent this mighty empire's doom,
Thought fit to cast on human kind! From bright unknown abodes of bliss I come,
Learning, courage, cloqnence, The awful genius of majestic Rome.
The gentlest nature, noblest mind,
Were intermixt in one alone;
Yet in one moincnt overthrown.
Could chance, or seuscless atoms, join
To form a soul so great as his ?
Destroy their own chietmaster-piece ?
The doubtful are the only wise.
And kill the kindest of his friends. The very life and soul of their design,
All this is far above our reach,
Whatever priests presume to preach.
TO MARCUS BRUTUS. To bring the bold usurper to his end :
Our scene is Athens. And great Athens nam'd, But for his country Brutus stabs bis friends
What soul so dull as not to be intiam'd ?
Amidst all these ye shall behold a man
The most applauded since mankind began, TELL, oh! tell me, whence arise
Out-shining ev'n those Greeks ' ho most excel, These disorders in our skies?
Whose life was one fix'd course of doing well. Rome's great genius wildly gaz'd,
Oh! who can therefore without tears attend And the gods seein all amaz'd.
On such a life, and such a fatal end?
But here our author, besides other faults Know, in sight of this day's Sun,
Of ill expressions, and of vulgar thoughts, Such a deed is to be done,
Commits one crime that needs an act of grace, Black enough to shroud the light
And breaks the law of unity of place: Of all this world in dismal night.
Yet to s ch noble patriots, ofercome
By factious violence, and banish'd Rome,
Athens alone a fit retreat could yield;
And where can Brutus fall, but in Philippi beldi
BY TWO AERIAL SPIRITS.
Some critics judge ev'n love itself too mean That free-born spirits should obey
Wretches, who know not how to sway!
Late we repent our hasty choice,
In vain bemoan so quick a turn. Amidst all other cares, still shines above,
Hark all to Rome's united voice! Lets not the best of Romans end their lives
Better that we a while had borne
Ev'n all those ills which most displease, Without just softness for the kindest wives. Yet, if ye think his gentle nature such
Than sought a cure far worse than the disease. As to have soften'd this great tale too much, Soon will your eyes grow dry, and passion fall, When ye reflect 'tis all but conjugal.
This to the few and knowing was addrest; And now 'tis fit I should salute the rest. Most reverend dull judges ofthe pit,
Our vows thus cheerfully we sing, By Nature curs'd with the wrong side of wit !
While martial music fires our blood; You need not care, whate'er you see to-night, Let all the neighbouring echoes ring How ill some players act, or poets write ;
With clamours for our country's good: Should our mistakes be never so notorious, Ani, for reward, of the just gods we claim You'll have the joy of being rrore censorious : A life with freedom, or a di ath with fame. Show your small talent then, let that suffice ye; But grow not vain upon it, I advise ye:
May Rome be freed from wars alarms, Each petty critic can objections raise,
And taxes beavy to be borne; The greatest skill is knowing when to praise. May she beware of foreign arms,
And send them back with noble scorn : And, for reward, &c.
May she no more confide in friends,
Who nothing farther understood,
Than only, for their private ends,
To waste her wealth, and spill her blood: Wisdom itself a guide will need:
And for reward, &c. We little thought, when Cæsar bled,
Our senators, great Jove, restrain That a worse Cesar would succeed..
From private piques, they prudence call; And are we under such a curse,
From the low thoughts of little gain, We cannot change but for the worse ?
And hazarding the losing all :
And, for reward, &c.
The shining arms with haste prepare,
Then to the glorious combat fly; The Gauls themselves, our greatest foes,
Our minds unclogg'd with farther care, Could act no mischiefs worse than those.
Except to overcome or die :
And, for reward, &c.
They fight, oppression to increase,
We for our liberties and laws; But never in his noble mind.
It were a sin to doubt success,
When freedoin is the noble cause : 5 See the first and second choruses, in the Poems And, for reward, of the just gods we claim of Mr. Pope.
A life with freedom, or a death with fame.