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What made Directors cheat in South-fea year!
Why the and Sappho rais'd that Monft'rous fum ?
Wife Peter fees the World's refpect for Gold,
Much injur'd Elunt; why bears he Britain's hate? A wizard told him in thefe words our fate: "At length Corruption, like a general flood,
(So long by watchful Minifters withstood) Shall deluge all; And Avarice creeping on, "Spread like a low-born mift, and blot the fun; "Statesman and Patriot ply alike the Stocks,
Peerefs and Butler fhare alike the Box, "And Judges job, and Bishops bite the town, "And mighty Dukes pack cards for half a crown. "See Britain funk in lucres' fordid charms, [arms!" "And France reveng'd of ANNE's and EDWARD'S 'Twas no Court badge, great Scrivener, fir'd thy brain, Nor lordly Luxury, nor City Gain:
No, twas thy righteous end, afham'd to fee
Hear then the truth: ""Tis Heav'n each passion sends "And different men directs to different ends, "Extremes in Nature equal good produce, "Extremes in Man concur to general ufe." Ask we what makes one keep, and one bestow? That POWER who bids the ocean ebb and flow, Bids feed-time, harveft, equal course maintain, Thro' reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain, Builds Life on Death, on Change Duration founds, And gives th'eternal wheels to know their rounds.
Riches like infects, when conceal'd they lie, Wait but for wings, and in their season fly. Who fees pale Mammon pine amidst his store, Sees but a backward steward for the Poor; This year a Refervoir, to keep and spare; The next a Fountain, spouting thro' his Heir, In lavish streams to quench a Country's thirst, And men and dogs fhall drink him till they burst.
Old Cotta fham'd his fortune and his birth,
His court with nettles, moats with creffes ftor'd,
Than Bramins, Saints, and Sages did before;
And who would take the Poor from Providence? Like fome lone Chartreux ftands the good old Hall, Sience without, and fails within the wall;
No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor found,
Not fo his Son, he mark'd this oversight,
Yet fure, of qualities deferving praise,
1 Fill the capacious 'Squire, and deep Divine? Yet no mean motives this profufion draws, His oxen perish in his country's caufe;
"Tis GEORGE and LIBERTY that crowns the cup,
The Senfe to value Riches, with the Art
Join with Oeconomy, Magnificence;
With Splendor, Charity; with Plenty, Health;
B. To worth or want well-weigh'd, be bounty given, And cafe, or emulate, the care of Heaven; (Whofe measure full o'erflows on human race) Mend Fortune's fault, and juftify her grace. Wealth in the grofs is death, but life difus'd; As poifon heals, in juft proportion us'd; In heaps, like Ambergrife, a ftink it lies, But well difpers'd, is incenfe to the kies.
P. Who ftarves by Nobles, or with Nobles eats! The wretch that trufts them, and the rogue that cheats. Is there a Lord, who knows a chearful noon Without a Fiddler, Flatterer, or Buffoon? Whofe table, Wit, or modeft Merit fhare, Un-elbowed by Gamefter, Pimp, or Player? Who copies Your's, or OXFORD's better part, To eafe th' opprefs'd, and raise the finking heart? Where-e'er he shines, oh Fortune, gild the scene, And angels guard him in the golden Mean! There, English bounty, yet a-while may stand, And Honour linger ere it leaves the land.
But all our praifes why fhould Lords engrofs?
But clear and art lefs, pouring thro' the plain