Imaginary ruin charms her ftill; Oh fcene of horror, and of wild defpair! But wanders not my Satire from her theme? Is this too owing to the love of fame? Tho' now your hearts on lucre are heftow'd; 'Twas first a vain devotion to the mode. Nor ceafe we here, fince 'tis a vice so strong, The torrent fweeps all womankind along. This may be faid in honour of our times, That none now ftand distinguish'd by their crimes. If fin you muft, take nature for your guide, Love has fome foft excufe to foothe your pride; Ye fair apoftates from love's ancient pow'r ! Can nothing ravish but a golden fhow'r ? Can cards alone your glowing fancy feize? Must Cupid learn to punt, ere he can pleafe? When you're enamour'd of a lift or caft, What can the preacher more to make us chafte? Can fame, like a repique, the foul entrance! And what is virtue to the lucky chance? Why must strong youths unmarried pine away? They find no woman difengag'd-from play. Why pine the married? oh feverer fate! They find from play no difengag'd-eftate. Flavia, at lovers falfe untouch'd, and hard, Turns pale and trembles at a cruel card. Nor Arria's Bible can fecure her age; Her threefcore years are fhuffling with her page: While death ftands by but till the game is done, To fweep that stake in juftice long his own; Like old cards ting'd with fulphur fhe takes fire; Or, like fnuffs funk in fockets, blazes higher. Ye gods! with new delights infpire the fair; Or give us fons, and fave us from defpair! Sons, brothers, fathers, hufbands, tradefmen, clofe In my complaint, and brand your fins in profe: The charm begins! To yonder flood of light That burts o'er gloomy Britain, turn your fight. What guardian pow'r o'erwhelms your fouls with Her deeds are precepts, her example law. [awe? * Milton. Midft empire's charms, how Carolina's heart She fmil'd, induftrious to be pleas'd, nor knew + In more than civil war, while patriots itorin; While Até hot from hell makes heroes fhrink, "Cries havoc, and lets lofe the dogs of ink;" Nor rank nor fex efcapes the gen'ral frown, But ladies are ripp'd up, and cits knock'd down: Tremendous force! where even the victor bleeds; And he deferves our pity that fucceeds: Immortal Juvenal! and thou of France! In your fam'd field my Satire dares advance; But cuts herfelf a track to you unknown; Nor crops your laurel, but would raife her own: A bold adventure! but a fafe one too! For though furpafs'd, I am surpass'd by you. ON this laft labour, this my clofing ftrain, Smile, Walpole, or the Nine infpire in vain. To thee 'tis due; that verfe how juftly thine, Where Brunfwick's glory crowns the whole defign! That glory which thy counfels make fo bright, That glory which on thee reflects a light. Illuftrious commerce, and but rarely known! To give and take a luftre from the throne. Nor think that thou art foreign to my theme; The fountain is not foreign to the ftream. How all mankind will be furpris'd to fec This food of British folly charg'd on thee! Yet, Britain, whence this caprice of thy fous, Which thro' their various ranks with fury runs? The caufe is plain, a caufe which we muft blefs; For caprice is the daughter of fuccefs (A bad effect, but from a pleafing caufe), And gives our rulers undefign'd applaufe; Tells how their conduct bids our wealth increase, And lulls us in the downy lap of peace. While I furvey the bleffings of our ifle, Her arts triumphant in the Royal finile, Shakespeare. + Lucan, Ee 3 Her Her public wounds bound up, her credit high, And burn to give mankind a fingle lord. The follies paft are of a private kind, Their phere is mall, their mifchief is confin'd; But daring men there are (awake my Mufe! And raife thy verfe) who bolder phrenzy choose, Who, ftung by glory, rave and bound away; The world their field, and human kind their prey. The Grecian chief, th' enthufiaft of his pride, With Rage and Terror ftalking by his fide, Raves round the globe; he foars into a god! Stand faft, Olympus! and fuftain his nod. The pet divine in horrid grandeur reigns, And thrives on mankind's miferies and pains. What flaughter'd hosts! what cities in a blaze! What wafted countrics! and what crimfon feas! With orphan's tears his impious bowl o'erflows, And cries of kingdoms lull him to repose. And cannot thrice ten hundred years unpraife The boift'rous boy, and blast his guilty bays? Why want we then encomiums on the ftorm, Or famine, or volcano? they perform Their mighty deeds; they, hero-like, can flay, And spread their ample deferts in a day, O great alliance! O divine renown! With dearth and peftilence to fhare the crown. When men extol a wild deftroyer's name, Earth's Builder and Preferver they blafpheme." One to destroy, is murder by the law; A realm of death! and on this fide the grave! How guilty thefe ! yet not lefs guilty they Here ceafe, my Mafe! the catalogue is writ, Nor one more candidate for fame admit; Tho' difappointed thousands juftly blame Some future ftrain, in which the Mufe thalitel How mifers fqueeze a young voluptuous pect, His fins to Lucifer not half fo dear; How Verfus is lefs qualified to steal With fword and piftol, than with wax and fear; How lawyers' fees to fuch excefs are run, That clients are redrefs'd till they're undone; How one man's anguish is another's sport, And ev'n denials coft us dear at court; How man eternally falfe judgments makes, And all his joys and forrows are mistakes. This fwarm of themes that fettles on my pen, Which I, like fummer-flies, thake off again, Let others fing; to whom my weak effay But founds a prelude, and points out their prey. That duty done, I haften to complete My own defigns; for Tonfon 's at the gate. The love of fame, in its effects furvey'd, The Mufe has fung; be now the cause display'd. Since fo diffufive and fo wide its fway, What is this Pow'r whom all mankind obey? Shot from above, by Heav'n's indulgence came Defire of praife firft broke the patriot's reft, But, oh! this paffion planted in the foul, Ambition, hence, exerts a doubtful force, Of blots and beauties an alternate fource; Hence Gildon rails, the raven of the pit, Who thrives upon the carcafes of wit; And in art-loving Scarborough is feen How kind a patron Pollio might have been. Purfuit of fame with pedants ils our schools, And into coxcombs burnishes our fools; Pursuit of fame makes foiid learning bright, And Newton lifts above a mortal height: That key of nature, by whofe wit the clears Her long, long fecrets of five thousand years. Would you then fully comprehend the whole, Why, and in what degrees, Pride tways the foul? (For tho' in all not equally the reigns) (Awake to knowledge, and attend my trains. Ye Ye doctors! hear the doctrine I disclose, To glorious deeds this paffion fires the mind; In mcaner minds ambition works alone; No mafk in bafeft minds ambition wears, Ye vain! defilt from your erroneous ftrife; No pride of thrones, no fever after fame; From one fam'd Alpine hill, which props the In Brunfwick fuch a fource the Mufe adores. Which public bleflings thro' half Europe pours, When his heart burns with such a godlike aim, Angels and George are rivals for the fame; George, who in foes can foft affections raife, And charm envenom'd Satire into praife. Nor human rage alone his pow'r perceives, But the mad winds and the tumultuous wavest. Even ftorms (death's fierceft minifters!) forbear, And, in their own wild empire, learn to spare. Thus nature's felf, fupporting man's decree, Styles Britain's Sovereign, Sovereign of the Sea. While fea and air, great Brunswick ! fhook our state, And fported with a king's and kingdom's fate, What felt thy Walpole, pilot of the realm ? § 54. The Caffle of Indolence. An Allegorical THOMSON. Poem. The Cafle hight of Indolence, And its falfe luxury; Where for a little time, alas! We liv'd right jully. MORTAL man, who liveft here by toil, Do not complain of this thy hard estate: That like an emmet thou must ever moil, Is a fad fentence of an ancient date; And, certes, there is for it reafon great; For, tho' fometimes it makes thee weep and wail, And curfe thy ftar, and early drudge and late; Withouten that would come an heavier bale, Loofe life, unruly paffions, and difeafes pale. In lowly dale, faft by a river's fide, With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round, A molt enchanting wizard did abide, Than whom a fiend more fell is nowhere found. It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground: And there a feason atween June and May, Half prankt with fpring, with fummer half imbrown'd, A liftless climate made, where, footh to fay, No living wight could work,ne cared even for play. Was nought around but images of reft: Sleep-foothing groves, and quiet lawns between; And flow'ry beds that flumb'rous influence keft, Amphytrion. + The King in danger by sea. Ecce Deus ramum Lethæo rore madentem, &c. VIRG. I. v. 4e4 Hom. ll. lib. 1. From From poppies breath'd; and beds of pleasant green, Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Meantimes unnumber'd glittering ftreamlets play'd, And huiled every where their waters fheen; That, as they bicker'd thro' the funny glade, Tho' reflefs ftill themfelves, a lulling murmur made. Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills A pleafing land of drowsy head it was, "What youthful bride can equal her array ? "Who can with her for eafy pleasure vie? "From mead to mead with gentle wing to ftray, "From flow'r to flow'r on balmy gales to fly, "Is all the hath to do beneath the radiant sky. "Behold the merry minstrels of the morn, "The farming fongfters of the careless grove, "Ten thoufand throats! that from the flower"ing thorn 66 Hymn their good God, and carol fweet of love, Such grateful kindly raptures them emove: They neither plough nor fow; ne, fit for fiail, "Eer to the barn the nodding fheaves they "drove ; "Yet theirs each harveft dancing in the gale, "Whatever crowns the hill, or fmiles along the "vale. "Outcaft of nature, man! the wretched thrall "Of bitter-dropping fweat, of fweltry pain, "Of cares that eat away thy heart with gall, "And of the vices, an inhuman train, "That all proceed from favage thirft of gain: "For when hard-hearted intereft firft began “To puilon earth, Aftræa left the plain; "Guile, violence, and murder feiz'd on man, "And, for foft milky ftreams, with blood the "rivers ran. Of dreams that wave before the half-fhut eye; Thither continual pilgrims crowded ftill, The freshness of this valley fmote their eye, hung, Ymolten with his fyren melody; While o'er th'enfeebling lute his hand he flung And to the trembling chords thofe tempting verfes fung: "Behold! ye pilgrims of this carth, behold' "See all but man with unearn'd pleasure gay "See her bright robes the butterfly unfold, Broke from her wintry tomb in prime of May "With me you need not rife at early dawn, "Or prowl in courts of law for human prey, No dogs, no babes, no wives, to ftun your car; "No hammers thump; no horrid blacksmith "fear; "No noify tradefmen your fweet flumbers start, "With founds that are a mitery to hear: "But all is calm, as would delight the heart. 'Of Sybarite of old, all nature, and all art. "Here nought but candour reigns, indulgent cafe, "Good-natur'd lounging, faunting up and 66 [down. They "What, what is virtue, but repose of mind? "A pure ethereal calm, that knows no ftorm; "Above the reach of wild ambition's wind, "Above thofe pailions that this world deform, "And torture man, a proud malignant worm! "But here, inflead, foft gales of paffion play, "And gently ftir the heart, thereby to form "A quicker fenfe of joy; as breezes ftray Acrofs th' enliven'd fkies, and make them ftill "more gay. "The best of men have ever lov'd repofe; "They hate to mingle in the filthy fray; "Where the foul fours, and gradual rancour 46 grows, "Embitter'd more from peevish day to day. "Ev'n those whom fame has lent her faireft ray, "The most renown'd of worthy wights of yore, "From a bafe world at laft have ftol'n away: "So Scipio, to the foft Cumaan fhore Retiring, tafted joy he never knew before. "But if a little exercise you choose, "Some zeft for eafe, 'tis not forbidden here. Amid the groves you inay indulge the mufe; "Or tend the blooms, and deck the vernal figh, Attuned to the birds and woodland melody. "O grievous folly to heap up eftate, "Lofing the days you fee beneath the fun; "When, fudden, comes blind unrelenting fate, "And gives the untafted portion you have won With ruthlefs toil, and many a wretch un"done, "To those who mock you gone to Pluto's reign, "There with fad ghosts to pine, and shadows "dun: But fure it is of vanities moft vain, To toil for what you here untoiling may obtain." He ceas'd. But still their trembling ears retain'd The deep vibrations of his 'witching fong; That by a kind of magic pow'r contrain'd To enter in, pell-mell, the lift'ning throng. Heaps pour'd on heaps,and yet they flipp'd along, In filent eafe; as when beneath the beam Of fummer moons, the diftant woods among, Or by fome flood all filvered with the gleam, The foft-embodied fays thro' airy portal stream. By the fmooth demon fo it order'd was, And here his baneful bounty firft began: Tho' fome there were who would not further And his alluring baits fufpected han. [pafs, The wife diftruft thee too fair spoken man; Yet thro' the gate they caft a wifhful eye: Not to move on, forfooth, is all they can; For, do their very best, they cannot fly; But often cach way look, and often forely figh. When this the watchful wicked wizard faw, With fudden fpring he leap dupon them ftraight; And, foon as touch'd by his unhallow'd paw, They found themfelves within the curfed gate; Full hard to be repafs'd, like that of fate. Not ftronger were of old the giant crew Who fought to pull high Jove from regal state; Tho' feeble wretch he feem'd, of fallow hue, Certes, who bides his grafp, will that encounter peep. Then, taking his black staff, he call'd his man, Save fleep and play who minded nought at all, So this fame limber page to all performed it. Meantime the mafter-porter wide display'd O fair undress, beft drefs! it checks no vein, Sir porter fat him down, and turn'd to fleep again. There |