is wholly to wave the answer of my arguments. Never own the bottom of your principles, for fear they fhould be treafon. Fall feverely on the mifcarriages of government; for if fcandal be not allowed, you are no freeborn fubjects. If God has not blessed you with the talent of rhyming, make use of my poor stock and welcome: let your verfes run upon my feet: and for the utmost refuge of notorious blockheads, reduced to the last extremity of sense, turn my own lines upon me, and in utter despair of your own fatyr, make me fatyrize myself. Some of you have been driven to this bay already; but, above all the reft, commend me to the non-conformist parfon, who writ the Whip and Key. I am afraid it is not read fo much as the piece deferves, because the bookfeller is every week crying help at the end of his Gazette, to get it off. You fee I am charitable enough to do him a kindness, that it may be publifhed as well as printed; and that so much skill in Hebrew derivations may not lie for wafte-paper in the shop. Yet I half suspect he went no farther for his learning, than the index of Hebrew names and etymologies, which is printed at the end of fome English bibles. If Achitophel fignify the brother of a fool, the author of that poem will pass with his readers for the next of kin. And perhaps it is the relation that makes the kindness. Whatever the verfes are, buy them up, I beseech you, out of pity; for I hear the conventicle is shut up, and the brother of Achitophel out of service.

Now footmen you know have the generofity to make a purfe for a member of their fociety, who has had his

name.

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livery pulled over his ears and even protestant socks are bought up among you, out of veneration to the A diffenter in poetry from sense and English will make as good a proteftant rhymer, as a diffenter from the church of England a proteftant parfon. Befides, if you encourage a young beginner, who knows but he may elevate his ftyle a little above the vulgar epithets of prophane, and fawcy Jack, and atheistic fcribler, with which he treats me, when the fit of enthufiafin is ftrong upon him: by which well-mannered and charitable expreffions I was certain of his fect before I knew his name. What would you have more of a man? He has damned me in your caufe from Genefis to the Revelations and has half the texts of both the Teftaments against me, if you will be fo civil to yourfelves as to take him for your interpreter; and not to take them for Irish witneffes. After all, perhaps, you will tell me, that you retained him only for the opening of your caufe, and that your main lawyer is yet behind. Now if it fo happen he meet with no more reply than his predeceffors, you may either conclude that I truft to the goodness of my cause, or fear my adversary, or difdain him, or what you please; for the fhort of it is, it is indifferent to your humble fervant, whatever your party fays or thinks of him.

THE

THE

MED A L.

F all our antic fights and pageantry,

OF

Which English ideots run in crowds to see,
The Polish Medal bears the prize alone:
A monfter, more the favourite of the town
Than either fairs or theatres have shown.
Never did art fo well with nature strive;
Nor ever idol feem'd fo much alive :
So like the man; fo golden to the fight,
So bafe within, fo counterfeit and light.
One fide is fill'd with title and with face;
And, left the king fhould want a regal place,
On the reverse, a tower the town furveys;
O'er which our mounting fun his beams difplays.
The word, pronounc'd aloud by fhrieval voice,
Latamur, which, in Polish, is rejoice.

The day, month, year, to the great act are join'd:
And a new canting holiday defign'd.

Five days he fat, for every caft and look;
Four more than God to finish Adam took.
But who can tell what effence angels are,
Or how long heaven was making Lucifer?
Oh, could the ftile that copy'd every grace,
And plough'd fuch furrows for an eunuch face,
Could it have form'd his ever-changing will;
The various piece had tir'd the graver's skill!
A martial hero first, with early care,

Blown, like a pigmy by the winds, to war.
VOL. I.

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A beardlefs chief, a rebel, ere a man:
So young his hatred to his prince began.
Next this, how wildly will ambition steer!
A vermin wriggling in th' ufurper's ear.
Bartering his venal wit for fums of gold,
He caft himself into the faint-like mould;
Groan'd, figh'd, and pray'd, while godlinefs was gain,
The lowdest bagpipe of the squeaking train.
But, as 'tis hard to cheat a juggler's eyes,
His open lewdness he could ne'er disguise.
There split the faint; for hypocritic zeal
Allows no fins but those it can conceal.
Whoring to scandal gives too large a scope :
Saints must not trade; but they may interlope.
Th' ungodly principle was all the fame ;
But a grofs cheat betrays his partner's game.
Besides, their pace was formal, grave, and slack ;
His nimble wit outran the heavy pack.

Yet ftill he found his fortune at a stay;

Whole droves of blockheads choaking up his way;
They took, but not rewarded, his advice;
Villain and wit exact a double price.

Power was his aim: but, thrown from that pretence,
The wretch turn'd loyal in his own defence;
And malice reconcil'd him to his prince.
Him, in the anguish of his foul he serv'd;
Rewarded fafter ftill than he deserv'd.

Behold him now exalted into trust;

His counfel's oft convenient, feldom juft.

Ev'n in the moft fincere advice he gave
He had a grudging still to be a knave.
The frauds he learn'd in his fanatic years
Made him uneafy in his lawful gears.
At beft as little honeft as he could,
And like white witches mifchievously good.
To his first bias longingly he leans;
And rather would be great by wicked means.
Thus fram'd for ill, he loos'd our triple hold
Advice unfafe, precipitous, and bold.
From hence thofe tears! that Ilium of our woe!
Who helps a powerful friend, fore-arms a foe.
What wonder if the waves prevail fo far

When he cut down the banks that made the bar?
Seas follow but their nature to invade ;
But he by art our native ftrength betray'd.
So Samfon to his foe his force confeft;
And to be fhorn, lay flumbering on her breaft.
But when this fatal counfel, found too late,
Expos'd its author to the public hate;
When his just sovereign, by no impious way
Could be feduc'd to arbitrary fway;
Forfaken of that hope he shifts his fail,
Drives down the current with a popular gale;
And fhews the fiend confefs'd without a veil.
He preaches to the crowd, that power is lent,
But not convey'd to kingly government;
That claims fucceffive bear no binding force,
That coronation oaths are things of course;

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