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Imaginary ruin charms her ftill;
Her happy lord is cuckold' by Spadille;
And, if the 's brought to bed, 'tis ten to one,
He marks the forehead of her darling fon.

Oh fcene of horror, and of wild defpair!
Why is the rich Artides' fplendid heir
Contrain'd to quit his ancient lordly feat,
And hide his glories in a mean retreat?
Why that drawn fword? and whence that difmal
Why pale diffraction thro' the family? [cry
Sce my lord threaten, and ny lady weep,
And trembling fervants from the tempet creep.
Why that gay fon to diftant regions fent?
Whatfiend that daughter's deftin'dmatch prevent:
Why the whole houfe in fudden ruin laid?
Oh nothing but-laft night my lady play'd.

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:
Yet I believe, as firmly as my creed,
In spite of all our wifdom, you'll proceed.
Our pride fo great, our paffion is fo ftrong,
Advice to right confirms us in the wrong.
I hear you cry, "This fellow's very odd !"
When you chaftife, who would not kils the rod
But I've a charm your anger fhall controul,
And turn your eyes with coldness on the vole.

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
Glows with a love of virtue and of art!
Her favour is diffus'd to that degree,
Excess of goodness! it has dawned on me.
When in my page, to balance num'ious faults,
Or god-like deeds were fhewn, or gen'rous
thoughts,

She fmil'd, induftrious to be pleas'd, nor knew
From whom my pen the borrow'd luftre drew.
Thus the majestic mother of mankind,
To her own charms most amiably blind,
On the green margin innocently food,
And gaz'd indulgent on the cryftal flood,
Survey'd the stranger in the painted wave,
And Imiling prais'd the beauties which the gave.

+ In more than civil war, while patriots itorin;
While genius is but cold, their pallion warm,
While public good aloft, in pomp, they wield,
And private int'reft skulks behind the fhield:
While Mit and Wilkins rife in weekly might,
Make preffes groan, lead fenators to fight;
Exalt our coffee with lampoons, and treat
The pamper'd mob with minifters of state:

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.

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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,
Her commerce fpreading fails in every sky,
The pleafing fcene recalls my theme again,
And fhews the madnefs of ambitious men,
Who, fond of bloodfhed, draw the murd'ring
fword,

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;
And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe.
To murder thoufands, takes a fpecious name,
War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame.
When after battle I the field have feen [men;
Spread o'er with ghaftly shapes, which once were
A nation crufh'd! a nation of the brave!

A realm of death! and on this fide the grave!
Are there, faid I, who from this fad furvey,
This human chaos, carry fimiles away?
How did my heart with indignation rife!
How hon, it nature fwell'd into my eyes!
How was I fhock'd, to think the hero's trade
Cf fuch materials fame and triumph made!

How guilty thefe ! yet not lefs guilty they
Who reach falfe glory by a fmoother way;
Who wrap deftruction up in gentle words,
And bows, and fmiles, more fatal than their fwords;
Who ftifle nature, and fubfift on art;
Who coin the face, and petrify the heart;
All real kindnefs for the fhow difcard,
As marble polish'd, and as marble hard;
Who do for gold what Chriftians do thro' grace,
"With open arms their enemies embrace;"
Who give a nod when broken hearts repine;
"The thinnest food on which a wretch can dine."
Or, if they ferve you, ferve you difiuclin'd;
And, in their height of kindness, are unkind.
Such courtiers were, and fuch again may be,
Walpole, when men forget to copy thee.

Here ceafe, my Mafe! the catalogue is writ, Nor one more candidate for fame admit;

Tho' difappointed thousands juftly blame
Thy partial pen, and boaft an equal claim,
Be this their comfort-fools omitted here
May furnith laughter for another year.
Then let Crifpino, who was ne'er refus'd
The juftice yet of being well abus'd,
With patience wait, and be content to reiga
The pink of puppies in fome future ftrain;

Some future ftrain, in which the Mufe thalitel
How science dwindles, and how volumes fweli;
How commentators each dark paffage thun,
And hold their farthing candle to the fun;
How tortur'd texts to speak our sense are made,
And ev'ry vice is to the fcripture laid;

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
This generous ardour, this unconquer'd flame,
To warm, to raife, to deify mankind,
Still burning brighteft in the nobleft mind.
By large-foul'd men, for thirst of fame renown'd,
Wife laws were fram'd, and fecret arts were
found;

Defire of praife firft broke the patriot's reft,
And made a bulwark of the warrior's breaft;
It bids Argyle in fields and fenates fhine:
What more can prove its origin divine ?

But, oh! this paffion planted in the foul,
On eagle's wings to mount her to the pole,
The flaming minifter of virtue meant,
Set up falfe gods, and wrong'd her high descent,

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,
As true as if 'twere writ in duilest profe;
As if a letter'd dunce had faid, " 'tis right."
And imprimatur usher'd it to light.

To glorious deeds this paffion fires the mind;
And clofer draws the ties of humankind,
Confirms fuciety; fince what we prize,
As our chief bleffing, muft from others rife.
Ambition, in the truly noble mind,
With filter-virtue is for ever join'd;
As in fam'd Lucrece, who with equal dread
From guilt, and fhame, by her laft conduct fled;
Her virtue long rebell'd in firm difdain,
And the fword pointed at her heart in vain ;
But, when the flave was threaten'd to be laid
Dead by her fide, her love of fame obey'd.

In mcaner minds ambition works alone;
But with fuch art puts virtue's afpect on,
That not more like in feature, and in mien,
The god and mortal in the comic fcene **.
Falfe Julius, ambufh'd in this fair difguife,
Soon made the Roman liberties his prize.

No mafk in bafeft minds ambition wears,
But in full light pricks up her afs's ears;
All I have fung are inftances of this,
And prove my theme unfolded not amifs.

Ye vain! defilt from your erroneous ftrife;
Be wife, and quit the falfe fublime of life.-
The true ambition there alone refides,
Where juftice vindicates, and witdom guides;
Where inward dignity joins outward state,
Our purpose good, as our achievement great;
Where public blethings public praife attend,
Where glory is our motive, not our end. [view]
Wouldst thou be fam'd? have thofe high deeds in
Brave men would act, tho' fcandal fhould enfue.
Behold a prince whom no fwoln thoughts in-
flame;

No pride of thrones, no fever after fame;
But when the welfare of mankind inspires,
And death in view to dear-bought glory fires,
Proud conqueft then, then regal pomps delight;
Then crowns, then triumphs, fparkle in his fight;
Tumult and noife are dear, which with them bring
His people's bleffings to their ardent king:
But, when thofe great heroic motives cease,
His fwelling foul fubfides to native peace;
From tedious grandeur's faded charms withdraws,
A fudden foe to fplendour and applause,
Greatly deferring his arrears of fame,
Till men and angels jointly fhout his name.
O pride celeftial, which can pride difdain!
O bleft ambition, which can ne'er be vain!

From one fam'd Alpine hill, which props the
In whofe deep womb unfathom'd waters lie, [fky,
Here burst the Rhone and founding Po, there fhine
In infant rills the Danube and the Khine;
From the rich ftore one fruitful urn fupplies,
Whole kingdoms smile, a thousand harvests rise.

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,
Depriv'd of what the lov'd, and prefs'd with fear
Of ever lofing what the held most dear,
How did Britannia, like Achilles ‡, weep,
And tell her forrows to the kindred deep!
Hang o'er the floods, and in devotion warm,
Strive for thee with the furge, and fight the
form!

What felt thy Walpole, pilot of the realm ?
Our Palinurus & flept not at the helm,
His eye ne'er clos'd; long fince inur'd to wake,
And outwatch ev'ry ftar, for Brunfwick's fake,
By thwarting paffions toft, by cares oppreft,
He found thy tempeft pictur'd in his breast.
But now what joys that gloom of heart difpel,
No pow'rs of language-but his own, can tell;
His own, which Nature and the Graces form,
At will to raife or hufh the civil form.

§ 54. The Caffle of Indolence. An Allegorical THOMSON.

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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
Were heard the lowing herds along the vale,
And flocks loud-bleating from the diftant hills,
And vacant fhepherds piping in the dale;
And now and then fweet Philomel would wail,|
Or ftock-doves 'plain amid the foreft deep,
That drowsy ruftled to the fighing gale;
And ftill a coil the grafshopper did keep:
Yet all thefe founds yblent inclined all to fleep.
Full in the paffage of the vale above,
A fable, filent, folemn foreft stood; [move,
Where nought but thadowy forms was feen to
As Idlenefs fancied in her dreaming mood:
And up the hills on either fide a wood
Of blackening pines, ay waving to and fro,
Sent forth a fleepy horror thro' the blood;
And where this valley winded out below,
The murmuring main was heard, and fearcely
heard, to flow.

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

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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;
And of gay caftles in the clouds that pafs,
For ever flushing round a fummer fky:
There eke the foft delights that witchingly
Inftil a wanton fweetneis through the breaft,
And calm the pleafures, always hover'd nigh;
But whate'er fmack'd of noyance, or unreft,
Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious neft."
The landfcape fuch, infpiring perfect cafe,
Where Indolence (for fo the wizard bight)
Clofe hid his caftle 'mid embow'ring trees,
That half shut out the beams of Phœbus bright.
And made a kind of checquer'd day and night:
Meanwhile, unccafing at the maffy gate,
Beneath a fpacious palm, the wicked wight
Was plac'd; and, to his lute, of cruel fate
And labour harth complain'd, lamenting man's
eftate.

Thither continual pilgrims crowded ftill,
From all the roads of earth that pass thereby
For, as they chanc'd to breathe on neighb'ring
hill,

The freshness of this valley fmote their eye,
And drew them ever and anon more nigh;
Till clustering round th' enchanter falfe they

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

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"With me you need not rife at early dawn,
"To pafs the joylefs day in various founds;
"Or, louting low, on upftart fortune fawn,
"And fell fair honour for fome paltry pounds:
"Or thro' the city take your di ty rounds,
“To cheat, and dun, and lie, and vifit pay,
"Now flattering bafe, now giving heret
" wounds;

"Or prowl in courts of law for human prey,
In venal fenate thieve, or rob on broad highe

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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

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"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

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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

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peep.

Then, taking his black staff, he call'd his man,
Androus'dhimfelf as much as roufe himfelf he can.
The lad leap'd lightly at his master's call,
He was, to weet, a little roguifh page,

Save fleep and play who minded nought at all,
Like moft the untaught ftriplings of his age.
This boy he kept each band to difengage,
Garters, and buckles, task for him unfit,
But ill-becoming his grave perfonage,
And which his portly paunch would not per-
mit;

So this fame limber page to all performed it.

Meantime the mafter-porter wide display'd
Great ftore of caps, of flippers, and of gowns;
Wherewith he thofe who enter'd in array'd,
Loofe as the breeze that plays along the downs,
And waves the fummer-woods when evening
frowns.

O fair undress, beft drefs! it checks no vein,
But ev'ry flowing limb in pleafure drowns,
And heightens cafe with grace. This done,
right fain,

Sir porter fat him down, and turn'd to fleep again.
Thus eafy rob'd, they to the fountain fped,
That in the middle of the court up-threw
A ftream, high fpouting from its liquid bed,
And falling back again in drizzly dew:"

There

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