And certain Laws, by fufferers thought unjust, '60
Deny'd all posts of profit or of trüft:

Hopes after hopes of pious Papists fail'd,
While mighty William's thundering arm prevail'd.
For Right Hereditary tax'd and fin'd,
He stuck to poverty with peace of mind;
And me, the Mufes help'd to undergo it;
Convict a Papist he, and I a Poet.

But (thanks to Homer) fince I live and thrive,
Indebted to no Prince or Peer alive,

Sure I fhould want the care of ten Monroes,

If I would fcribble, rather than repofe.

65

70

g Years following years, fteal fomething every day,

At laft they steal us from ourselves away;

In one our Frolics, one Amusements end,

In one a Mistress drops, in one a Friend:
This fubtle Thief of life, this paltry Time,
What will it leave me, if it fnatch my rhyme ?
If every wheel of that unweary'd Mill,

That turn'd ten thousand verses, now ftands ftill ?

75

But

Unde fimul primum me demifere Philippi,
Decifis humilem pennis, inopemque paterni
Et laris et fundi, paupertas impulit audax
Ut verfus facerem: fed, quod non defit, habentem,
Quae poterunt unquam fatis expurgare cicutae,
Ni melius dormire putem, quam fcribere versus ?
* Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes;
Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ludum;
Tendunt extorquere poemata. quid faciam vis?

h But after all, what would you have me do? When out of twenty I can please not two;

When this Heroics only deigns to praise,

Sharp Satire that, and that Pindaric lays?
One likes the Pheasant's wing, and one the leg;
The vulgar boil, the learned roaft an egg.
Hard tafk! to hit the palate of fuch guests,
When Oldfield loves what Dartineuf detefts.

But grant I may relapfe, for want of grace,
Again to rhyme: can London be the place?

Who there his Mufe, or felf, or foul attends,

In crouds, and courts, law, bufinefs, feafts, and friends?

My counsel fends to execute a deed:

A Poet begs me I will hear him read:

In Palace-yard at nine you'll find me there

At ten, for certain, Sir, in Bloomfbury-square-
Before the Lords at twelve my Caufe comes on-
There's a Rehearsal, Sir, exact at one.-

95

"Oh

Denique non omnes eadem mirantur amantque.

Carmine tu gaudes: hic delectatur iambis;

Ille Bioneis fermonibus, et fale nigro.

Tres mihi convivae prope diffentire videntur,
Pofcentes vario multum diverfa palato.

Quid dem? quid non dem? renuis quod tu, jubet alter:
Quod petis, id fane eft invifum acidumque duobus.
i Praeter caetera me Romae ne poemata cenfes
Scribere poffe, inter tot curas totque labores?
Hic fponfum vocat, hic auditum fcripta, relictis
Qmnibus officiis: cubat hic in colle Quirini,

"Oh but a Wit can study in the streets,
"And raife his mind above the mob he meets."
Not quite fo well however as one ought;

A hackney-coach may chance to fpoil a thought;
And then a nodding beam, or pig of lead,
God knows, may hurt the very ablest head.
Have you not feen, at Guildhall's narrow pass,
Two Aldermen dispute it with an Ass?
And Peers give way, exalted as they are,
Ev'n to their own S-r-v-nce in a Car?

Go, lofty Poet! and in such a croud,

Sing thy fonorous verse-but not aloud.
Alas! to Grottoes and to Groves we run,

To ease and filence, every Mufe's fon:
Blackmore himself, for any grand effort,

Would drink and doze at Tooting or Earl's-Court.
How fhall I rhyme in this eternal roar?

100

105

110

How match the bards whom none e'er match'd before?

The

Hic extremo in Aventino; vifendus uterque.

Intervalla vides humane commoda.

" Verum

"Purae funt plateae, nihil ut meditantibus obstet." Feftinat calidus mulis gerulifque redemtor:

Torquet nunc lapidem, nunc ingens machina tignum: Triftia robuftis luctantur funera plaustris:

Hac rabiofa fugit canis, hac lutulenta ruit fus.

* I nunc, et verfus tecum meditare canoros. Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus, et fugit urbes,

Rite cliens Bacchi, fomno gaudentis et umbra.

I The Man, who, ftretch'd in Ifis' calm retreat,
To books and study gives seven years complete,
See! ftrow'd with learned duft, his nightcap on,
He walks, an object new beneath the fun!
The boys flock round him, and the people stare: 120
So ftiff, fo mute! fome ftatue you would fwear,
Stepp'd from its Pedestal to take the air!

And here, while town, and court, and city roars,
With mobs, and duns, and foldiers, at their doors;
Shall I, in London, act this idle part?

Compofing fongs, for Fools to get by heart?

125

m The Temple late two brother Sergeants faw, Who deem'd each other Oracles of Law; With equal talents, these congenial fouls, One lull'd th' Exchequer, and one ftunn'd the Rolls; Each had a gravity would make you split, And shook his head at Murray, as a Wit.

Tu me inter ftrepitus nocturnos atque diurnos
Vis canere, et contracta fequi veftigia vatum ?

1

'Twas,

1 Ingenium, fibi quod vacuas defumfit Athenas,

Et ftudiis annos feptem dedit, infenuitque
Libris et curis, ftatua taciturnius exit

Plerumque, et rifu populum quatit; hic ego rerum
Fluctibus in mediis, et tempeftatibus urbis,
Verba lyrae motura fonum connectere digner?

m Frater erat Romae confulti rhetor; ut alter
Alterius fermone meros audiret honores:
Gracchus ut hic illi foret, huic ut Mucius ille.
Quî minus argutos vexat furor ifte poetas ?

'Twas," Sir, your law"-and " Sir, your eloquence," "Yours, Cowper's manner-and yours, Talbot's fenfe." Thus we difpofe of all poetic merit,

135

Yours Milton's genius, and mine Homer's spirit.
Call Tibbald Shakespeare, and he 'll fwear the Nine,
Dear Cibber! never match'd one Ode of thine.
Lord! how we ftrut through Merlin's Cave, to see
No Poets there, but Stephen, you, and me.
Walk with respect behind, while we at ease

"

140

Weave laurel Crowns, and take what names we pleafe, My dear Tibullus!" if that will not do, "Let me be Horace, and be Ovid you: "Or, I'm content, allow me Dryden's ftrains, "And you fhall rise up Otway for your pains." Much do I fuffer, much, to keep in peace This jealous, wafpish, wrong-head, rhyming race;

Carmina compono, hic elegos; mirabile vifu,
Caelatumque novem Mufis opus. afpice primum,
Quanto cum faftu, quanto molimine circum-
fpectemus vacuam Romanis vatibus aedem.

Mox etiam (fi forte vacas) fequere, et procul audi,
Quid ferat, et quare fibi nectat uterque coronam.
Caedimur, et totidem plagis confumimus hoftem,
Lento Samnites ad lumina prima duello.
Difcedo Alcaeus puncto illius; ille meo quis?
Quis, nifi Callimachus? fi plus adpofcere vifus:
Fit Mimnermus, et optivo cognomine crefcit.
Multa fero, ut placem genus irritabile vatum,
Cun fcribo, et fupplex populi fuffragia capto:

145

And