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God faw his image lively was express'd;
And his own work, as in creation, blefs'd.

The tempter faw him too, with envious eye;
And, as on Job, demanded leave to try.

He took the time when Richard was depos'd,
And high and low with happy Harry clos'd,

This prince, tho' great in arms, the priest withstood:
Near tho' he was, yet not the next in blood.
Had Richard, unconftrain'd, refign'd the throne,
A king can give no more than is his own:
The title ftood entail'd, had Richard had a fon.

Conqueft, an odious name, was laid aside, Where all fubmitted, none the battle try'd. The fenfelefs plea of right by providence Was, by a flatt'ring prieft, invented fince : And lafts no longer than the present sway; But juftifies the next who comes in play.

The people's right remains; let those who dare
Dispute their pow'r, when they the judges are.
He join'd not in their choice, because he knew
Worfe might, and often did from chance enfue.
Much to himself he thought; but little spoke;
And, undepriv'd, his benefice forsook.

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Now, through the land, his cure of fouls he ftretch'd: And like a primitive apostle preach'd.

Still

Still chearful; ever conftant to his call:

By many follow'd; lov'd by moft, admir'd by all.
With what he begg'd, his brethren he reliev'd;
And gave the charities himself receiv'd.

Gave, while he taught; and edify'd the more,
Because he fhew'd, by proof, 'twas eafy to be poor.

He went not, with the crowd, to fee a fhrine; But fed us, by the way, with food divine.

In def'rence to his virtues, I forbear To fhew you what the reft in orders were: This brilliant is fo fpotlefs, and so bright,

He needs no foil, but shines by his own proper light.

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JUST

THE MODERN FINE GENTLEMAN.

Written in the Year 1746.

Quale portentum neque militaris
Daunia in latis alit efculetis,

Nec Jube tellus generat, leonum
Arida nutrix.

JST broke from school, pert, impudent, and raw ;
Expert in Latin, more expert in taw,

His honour pofts o'er Italy and France,

Measures St. Peter's dome, and learns to dance.
Thence having quick thro' various countries flown,
Glean'd all their follies, and expos'd his own,
He back returns, a thing fo ftrange all o'er,
As never ages past produc'd before :

A monfter of fuch complicated worth,

As no one fingle clime could e'er bring forth:
Half Atheist, Papift, gamefter, bubble, rook,
Half fiddler, coachman, dancer, groom, and cook.

Next, because bus'nefs now is all the vogue,
And who'd be quite polite must be a rogue,
In parliament he purchases a seat,

To make th' accomplish'd gentleman complete.
There fafe in self-sufficient impudence,

Without experience, honefty, or fenfe,

Unknow

Unknowing in her int'reft, trade, or laws,
He vainly undertakes his country's caufe:
Forth from his lips, prepar'd at all to rail,
Torrents of nonfenfe burft; like bottled åle,
Tho' fhallow, muddy; brisk, tho' mighty dull;
Fierce without ftrength; o'erflowing, tho' not full.

Now quite a Frenchman in his garb and air,
His neck yok'd down with bag and folitaire,
The liberty of Britain he fupports,
And ftorms at placemen, minifters, and courts;
Now in crop'd greafy hair, and leather breeches,
He loudly bellows out his patriot speeches;
Kings, lords and commons ventures to abuse,
Yet dares to fhew thofe ears he ought to lose.

From hence to White's our virtuous Cato flies,
There fits with countenance erect and wife,
And talks of games of Whift, and pig-tail pies;
Plays all the night, nor doubts each law to break;
Himself unknowingly has help'd to make;
Trembling and anxious ftakes his utmost groat,
Peeps o'er his cards, and looks as if he thought
Next morn difowns the loffes of the night,
Because the fool would fain be thought a bite.

Devoted thus to politics and cards,
Nor mirth, nor wine, nor women, he regards,

F 3

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So

So far is ev'ry virtue from his heart,

That not a generous vice can claim a part:
Nay, left one human paffion ere fhould move
His foul to friendship, tenderness, or love,

To FIGG and BROUGHTON he commits his breaft,
To fteel it to the fashionable teft.

Thus poor in wealth, he labours to no end,
Wretched alone, in crowds without a friend;
Infenfible to all that's good or kind,

Deaf to all merit, to all beauty blind;
For love too bufy, and for wit too grave,
A harden'd, fober, proud, luxurious knave,
By little actions ftriving to be great,

And proud to be, and to be thought, a cheat..

And yet in this fo bad is his fuccefs,
That as his fame improves, his rent grows lefs;
On parchment wings his acres take their flight,
And his unpeopled groves admit the light;
With his cftate his int'reft too is done,

His honeft borough feeks a warmer fun.
For him, now cath and liquor flows no more,
His independent voters cease to roar ;

And Britain foon must want the great defence

Of all his honefty and eloquence,

But that the gen'rous youth, more anxious grown
For public liberty than for his own,

Marries fome jointur'd antiquated crone:

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And

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