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In artless numbers paint th' ambitious Peer
That mounts the box, and fhines a Charioteer :
In strains familiar fing the midnight toil
Of Camps and Senates difciplin❜d by Hoyle;
Patriots and Chiefs, whofe deep defign invades
And carries off the captive King-of Spades!
Let SATIRE here in milder vigour fhine,
And gayly graceful sport along the line;
Bid courtly fashion quit her thin pretence,
And smile each Affectation into sense.

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Not fo when Virtue by her Guards betray'd, Spurn'd from her Throne, implores the Mufe's aid : When crimes, which erst in kindred darknefs lay, Rife frontless, and infult the eye of day; Indignant Hymen veils his hallow'd fires, And white-rob❜d Chastity with tears retires; When rank Adultery on the genial bed Hot from Cocytus rears her baleful head : When private Faith and public Truft are fold, And Traitors barter Liberty for Gold: When fell Corruption, dark and deep, like fate, Saps the foundation of å finking State: When Giant-Vice and Irreligion rife,

On mountain'd falfehoods to invade the skies:

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Then warmer numbers glow thro' SATIRE's page,
And all her smiles are darken'd into rage:
On eagle-wing the gains Parnaffus' height,
Not lofty EPIC foars a nobler flight:
Then keener indignation fires her eye;
Then flash her lightnings, and her thunders fly;

Wide

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Wide and more wide her flaming bolts are hurl'd,
Till all her wrath involves the guilty World.

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Yet SATIRE oft affumes a gentler mien, And beams on Virtue's friends a fmile ferene: She wounds reluctant; pours her balm with joy; Glad to commend where Worth attracts her eye. But chief, when Virtue, Learning, Arts decline, She joys to fee unconquer'd merit fhine; Where bursting glorious, with departing ray, True Genius gilds the close of Britain's day : With joy she fees the stream of Roman art From MURRAY's tongue flow purer to the heart: Sees YORKE to Fame, ere yet to Manhood known, And just to ev'ry Virtue but his own: Hears unftain'd CAM with gen'rous pride proclaim A SAGE'S, CRITIC's, and a POET's name: Beholds, where WIDCOMBE's happy hills ascend, Each orphan'd Art and Virtue find a friend: TO HAGLEY's honour'd Shade directs her view; And culls each flow'r, to form a Wreath for You. But tread with cautious ftep this dangerous ground, Beset with faithlefs precipices round: Truth be your guide: difdain Ambition's call; And if you fall with Truth, you greatly fall. 'Tis Virtue's native luftre that must shine; The Poet can but set it in his line: And who unmov'd with laughter can behold A fordid pebble meanly grac'd with gold? Let real Merit then adorn your lays, For Shame attends on proftituted praise :

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VOL. III.

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And

And all your wit, your most distinguish'd art,
But make us grieve you want an honeft heart.
Nor think the Muse by SATIRE's Law confin❜d :
She yields defcription of the noblest kind.
Inferior art the Landscape may defign,
And paint the purple ev'ning in the line:
Her daring thought effays a higher plan;
Her hand delineates Paffion, pictures Man.
And
great the toil, the latent foul to trace,
To paint the heart, and catch internal
grace;
By turns bid Vice or Virtue ftrike our eyes,
Now bid a Wolfey, or a Cromwell rise;

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Now with a touch more facred and refin'd,
Call forth a CHESTERFIELD's or LONSDALE's mind.
Here sweet or strong may ev'ry Colour flow:
Here let the pencil warm, the canvass glow:
Of light and shade provoke the noble strife,
And wake each striking feature into life.

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PART

PART III.

THROUG
HROUGH Ages thus has SATIRE keenly shin'd,
The Friend to Truth, to Virtue, and Mankind :
Yet the bright flame from Virtue ne'er had sprung,
And Man was guilty ere the Poet fung.
This Mufe in filence joy'd each better Age,
Till glowing crimes had wak'd her into rage.
Truth faw her honeft fpleen with new delight,
And bade her wing her fhafts, and urge their flight.
First on the Sons of Greece the prov'd her art,
And Sparta felt the fierce IAMBIC dart *.
TO LATIUM next, avenging SATIRE flew :
The flaming faulchion rough LUCILIUS † drew;
With dauntless warmth in Virtue's caufe engag'd,
And conscious Villains trembled as he rag'd.

Then sportive HORACE caught the gen'rous fire; ‡ For SATIRE's bow refign'd the founding lyre:

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NOTES.

* "Archilochum proprio rabies armavit Iambo." + "Enfe velut ftricto quoties Lucilius ardens Infremuit, rubet auditor cui frigida mens eft Criminibus, tacita fudant præcordia culpa." "Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico Tangit, et admiffus circum præcordia ludit, Callidus excuffo populum fufpendere nafo."

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HOR.

Juv. S. i.

PERS. S. i.

Each arrow polish'd in his hand was seen,
And, as it grew more polish'd, grew more keen.
His art, conceal'd in study'd negligence,
Politely fly, cajol'd the foes of fenfe:

He feem'd to sport and trifle with the dart,
But while he fported, drove it to the heart.

In graver ftrains majestic PERSIUS wrote,
Big with a ripe exuberance of thought:
Greatly fedate, contemn'd a Tyrant's reign,
And lafh'd Corruption with a calm disdain.

More ardent eloquence, and boundless rage,
Inflame bold JUVENAL's exalted page,
His mighty numbers aw'd corrupted Rome,
And swept audacious Greatness to its doom;
The headlong torrent thund'ring from on high,
Rent the proud rock that lately brav'd the sky.

But lo! the fatal Victor of Mankind!
Swoln Luxury!-pale Ruin stalks behind!
As countless Infects from the north-eaft pour,
To blaft the Spring, and ravage ev'ry flow'r :
So barb'rous Millions fpread contagious death:
The fick❜ning Laurel wither'd at their breath.
Deep Superftition's night the fkies o'erhung,
Beneath whose baleful dews the Poppy fprung.
No longer Genius woo'd the Nine to love,
But Dulness nodded in the Mufe's grove :
Wit, Spirit, Freedom, were the fole offence,
Nor aught was held fo dangerous as Senfe.

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