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With lenient arts extend a Mother's breath, F- loves the senate, Hockleyhole his brother,
Publish the present age ; but where my text $ 18. Satires and Epiples of Horace imitated. Pope. Is vice too high, referve it for the next: SA TIRE I.
My focs thall with my life a longer date,
And ev'ry friend the lets lament my fate.
' my quill; There are to whom my Satire fecms too bold; Vereinan or Proseman, term me which you will, Scarce to wise Peter complailant enough, Papist or Proteftant, or both between, And something faid of Chartres much too rough. Like good Erasmus in an honest mean, The lines are weak, another's pleas'd to say; In moderation placing all my glory, Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day. While Tories cail mc Whig, and Whigs a Tory. Tim'rous by nature, of the rich in awe,
Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet I come to council learned in the law :
To run a-muck, and tilt at all I mect; You'll give me, like a friend both fage and free, I only w car it in a land of hcctors, Advice; and (as you use) without a fee. Thieves, supercargoes, sharpers, and directors. F. I'd write no more.
Save but our army! and let Jove incrust P. Not write? but then I think; Swords, pikes, and guns, with everlasting ruft! And for my foul I cannot sleep a wink. Peace is my dear delight--10t Fleury's more : I nod in company, I wake at night;
But touch me, and no minister to fore.
F. You could not do a worse thing for your life. Slides into verle, and hitches in a thyme 5
And the sad burthen of tomc merry fong.
Slander or poiton dread from Delia's rage; Bue talk with Cellus, Cellus will advise Hard words or hanging, if your judge be Page: Hartfhorn, or something that shall close your eyes. From furious Sappho icarce a milder fate, Or, if you needs must write, write Cafar's praise; P-x'd by her love, or libell’d by her hate. You'll gain at least a knighthood, or the bays. Its proper pow'r to hurt, each creature feels; P. What! like Sir Richard, rumbling, rough, Bulls aim their horns, and asses lift their heels; and fierce,
[the verte, / 'Tis a bear's talent not to kick, but hug; With arms, and George, and Brunswick, crowd and no man wonders he's not ttung by pug. Rend with tremendous found your ears afunder, So drink with Waters, or with Chartres cat; With gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss, and thun- They'll never poison you, they'll only cheat. Ornobly wild, with Budgell's fire and force, [der? Then, learned Sir! (to cut the matter short) Paint angels trembling round his falling horte? Whate'er my fatc, or well or ill at Court,
F. Then all your Muse's softer art display, Whether old age, with faint but cheerful ray, Let Carolina Imooth the tunetul lav,
Attends to gild the ev'ning of my day;
P. Alas! few verses touch their nicer ear; Whether the darken'd room to muse invite,
Like Lee or Budgel, I will rhyme and print. F. Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it ftill, F. Alas, young man ! your days can ne'er be Than ridicule all taste, blaspheme quadrille, In flow'r of age you perish for a long! [long; Abuse the city's buit good men in metre, Plums and directors, Shylock and his wife, And laugh at peers that put their trust in Peter. Will club their tcfters, now, to take your life! Ev'n thold you touch not, hate you.
P. What? arm'd for virtue when I point the P. What thould ail them:
pen, F. A hundred smart in Timon and in Balaain. Brand the bold front of shameless guilty men; The fewer ftill you name, you wound the more; Daih the proud gamester in his giided car; Bond is but one, but Harpax is a score. Bare the mean heart that lurks beneath a far;
P. Each mortal has his pleafure : none deny Can there Le wanting, to defend her caute, Scarsdale his botile, Darty his ham-pye; Lights of the church, or guardians of the laws ? Ridotta sips and dances, till she sec
Could pension d Boileau lath in honeft strain The doubling luftres dance as fast as the; Flatt'rers and bigots eren in Louis' reign?
Could Laurcate Dryden pimp and friar engage,
Preach as I please, I doubt our curious mer Yet neither Charles nor James be in a rage Will choose a pheasant still before a hen; And I not strip the gilding off a knave,
Yer hens of Guinca full as good I hold, Unplac'd, unpension’d, no man's heir or save? Except you cat the feathers green and gold. I will, or perith in the gen'rous caule :
Of carps and mullets why prefer the great Hear this, kod tremble! you, who 'lcape the laws. (Tho cut in pieces ere my Lord can cat) Yes, while I live, no rich or noble knave
or small turbots such esteem profess? Shall walk the world in cicdit to his grave. Because God made these large, the other less. To virtue only and her friends a friend, Oldfield, with more than harpy throat endued, The world beside may inurmur or commend. Cries,“ Send me, Gods! a whole hog barbecued!” Know, all the distant din that world can keep, Oh blast it, fouth-winds, till a stench exhale Rolls o'cr my groito, and but soothes my sleep. Rank as the ripeness of a rabbit's tail. There, my retreat the best companions grace, By what criterion do you eat, d’ye think, Chiets out of war, and itatcimen out of place. If this is priz'd for tweetness, that for stink? There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl When the tir'd glutton labours thro' a treat, The fcaft of reason and the flow of foul:
He finds no relish in the fwccteft mcat; And he, whose lightning pierc'd th' Iberian lines, He calls for something bitter, something four, Now forms my quincunx, and now ranks iny vincs; And the rich feast concludes extremely poor: Or tames the genius of the stubborn plain, Cheap eggs, and herbs, and olives still we see; Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain.
Thus much is left of old Simplicity! Envy must own, I live among the great,
The Robin-red-breast till of late had rest, No pimp of pleasure, and no spy of state; And children sacred held a Martin's nest, With eyes that pry not, tongue that ne'er repeats, Till Becca-ficos fold so dev'lith dear Fond to spread friend thips, but to cover heats ; To one that was, or would have been, a Peer. To help who want, to forward who excel; Let me extol a Cat on oysters fed, This, all who know me, know; who love me, tell; I'll have a party at the Bedford-head; And who unknown defame me, let them be Or ev’n to crack live Crawhith recommend, Scribblers or peers, alike are mob to me. I'd never doubt at Court to make a friend. This is my plea, on this I reft my caufc- 'Tis yet in vain, I own, to keep a pother What faith my council, learned in the laws ? About one vice, and fall into the other :
F. Your plca is good; but still I say, beware! Between Excess and Famine lies a mean; Laus are explain’d by men-to have a circ. Plain, but not fordid; tho' not splendid, clcan. It Itands on record, that in Richard's times Avidien, or his Wife (no matter which, A man was hang'd for very honcft rhymes ! For him you'll call a dog, and her a bitch), Consult the statute, quart. I think it is, Sell their presented partridges and fruits, Edwardi sext. or prim. et quint. Eliz.
And humbly live on rabbits and on roots : Sce Libols, Satires-here you have it-read. One half-pint bottle ferves them both to dine,
P. Libels and Satires ! lawlets things indeed! And is at once their vinegar and wine. But grave Epistles, bringing vice to light, But on fome lucky day (as when they found Such as a King might read, a bishop writc,
A loft Bank bill, or heard their son was drown'd) Such as Sir Robert would approven
At such a fcast, old vinegar to ipare,
Is what two souls so gen'rous cannot bear :
And ncither leans on this fide nor on that; SATIRE II.
Nor stops, for one bad cork, his butler's pay; To Mr. Betbel.
Swcars, like Albutius, a good cook away;
Nor lets, like Nævius, ev'ry error pass; WHAT, and how great, the virtue and the art The musty winc, foul cloth, or greasy glass. To live on little with a cheerful heart,
Now hear what blettings Temperance can bring: (A doctrine fage, but truly none of mine), (Thus said our friend, and what he said I fing) Let's talk, my friends, but talk before we dine. First Health : the stomach (cramm'd from ev'ry Not when a gilt buffet's refceted pride
dish, Turns you from found philofophy afide; A tomb of boil'd and roaft, and flesh and fish, Not when from plate to plate your eye-balls roll, Where bile, and wind, and phlegm, and acid jar, And the brain dances to the mantling bowl. And all the man is one intestine war)
Hear Bethel’s Sermon, one not vers'd in schools, Remembers oft the school-boy's fimple fare, But ftrong in sense, and wife without the rules. The temp’rate sleeps, and spirits light as air. Go work, hunt, exercise ! (he thus beyan) How pale cach worshipful and rev'rend guest Then scorn a homely dinner if you can. Rite from a Clergy or a City feast ! Your wine lock'd up, your butler stroll d abroad, What life in all that ample body, say? Or fith denied (the river yet unthaw'd), What heavenly particle inspires the clay? If then plain bread and milk will do the feat, The foul fubfides, and wickedly iniclines The pleasure lies in you, and not the mcat. To seem but mortal, cinn in found Disines.
On morning wings how active springs the inind To Hounslow heath I point, and Bansted-down; That leaves the load of yefterday behind ! •Thence comes your mutton, and these chicks my How easy ev'ry labour it pursues ! How coming to the Poct ev'ry Muse!
From yon old walnut-trec a show'r fhall fall; Not but we may exceed fome holy time, And grapes, long ling‘ring on my only wall, Or tir’d in search of Truth, or scarch of Rhyme; And figs from standard and espalier join; Ill health fome just indulgence may engage,
The devil is in you, if you cannot dine: [place); And more, the sickness of long life, Old Age; Then cheerful hсalths (your mistress Mall have For fainting Age what cordial drop remains, And, what's more rare, a poet fhall say grace, If our intemp’rate Youth the vessel drains ? Fortune not much of humbling mc can boalt:
Our fathers prais'd rank Ven’son. You suppose, Tho' double tax’d, how little have I loft! Perhaps, young men ! our fathers had no nose. My life's amusements have been just the same Not so: a Buck was then a week's repast,
Before and after standing armies came. And 'twas their point, I ween, to make it last; My lands are sold, my father's house is gone : More pleas'd to keep it till their friends could I'll hire another's ; is not that my own, [gate come,
And yours, my friends ? thro' whose free op'ning Than cat the sweetest by themselves at home. Nonc comes too early, nonc departs too late; Why had not I in those good times my birth, For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best, Ere coxcomb pyes or coxcombs were on earth? Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.
Unworthy he, the voice of Fame to hear, “ Pray heaven it last? (cries Swift) as you go on; That sweetest music to an honest ear
" I wish to God this house had been your own. (For 'faith, Lord Fanny! you are in the wrong; “ Pity! to build, without a fon or wifc; The world's good word is better than a song). Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life.” Who has not learn’d, fresh sturgeon and ham-pye Well, if the use be mine, can it concern onc, Are no rewards for want and intamy.
Whether the name belong to l'ope or Vernon? When luxury has lickid up all thy pelf, What's property? dear Swift! you see it alter Curs'd by thy neighbours, thy trustecs, thyself; From you to me, froin me to Peter Walter; To friends, to fortune, to mankind a thame, Or, in a mortgage, prove a lawyer's share; Think how pofterity will treat thy name; Or, in a jointure, vanith from the heir; And buy a rope, that future times may tell Or in pure equity (the case not clear) Thou hast at least bestow'd one penny well.
Thc Chancery takes your rents for twenty year: " Right," cries his Lord thip, " for a rogue in need At beft, it falls to some ungracious fon, “ To have a taste, is infolence indeed :
Whocries,“Myfather's damn'd,andall's myown." " In me 'tis noble, suits my birth and state, Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford, “ My wealth unwieldy, and my heap too great." Become the portion of a booby lord; Then, like the Sun, let Bounty sprcad her ray, And Hemfley, oncc proud Buckingham's delight, And ihine that superfluity away.
Slides to a scriv’ner, or a city knight.
Let us be fix'd, and our own masters still.
The First Epiftle of the First Book of Horace. Or to thy Country let that hcap be lent,
EPIST L E I.
To Lord Boling broke.
ST. JOHN, whose love indulg'd my labours past,
Public too long, ah let me hide my age !
Hang their old Trophies o’er the Garden gates;
Nor fond of bleeding even in Brunswick's cause. And as I love, would imitate, the man.
A voice there is, that whispers in my car, In South-sea davs not happier, when surmis'd ('TisRcafon'svoice,which fometimes one can hear) The lord of thousands, than if now excis'd; is Friend Pope! be prudent, let your Mufe take In forest planted by a father's hand,
“ And never gallop Pegatus to death; [brcath, Than in five acres now of rented land.
“ Left stiff and stately, void of fire or force, Content with little, I can piddlc here
“ You limp, like Blackmorc, on a Lord Mayor's On broccoli and mutton round the year;
horie." But ancient friends (tho' poor, or out of play), Farewel then, Verse, and Love, and rv'ry toy, That touch my bell, I cannot turn away. The rhymes and rattles of the man or boy; 'Tis true, no turbots dignify my boards; What right, what truc, what fit we juftly call, But gudgcons, founders, what my Thames affords. I Let this be all my care--for this is All:
To lay this harvest up, and hoard with haste, Barnard in spirit, sense, and truth abounds; What cv'ry day will want, and most, the last. “ Pray then, what wants hc:"Fourscore thousand But aik nor to what Doctors I apply;
pounds; Sworn to no master, of no fcêt am I:
A pension, or tuch harness for a llave As drives the storm, at any door I knock; As Bug now has, and Dorimant would have. And house with Montagne now,or now with Locke. Barnard, thou art a Cit, with all thy worth; Sometimes a Patriot, active in debate,
But Bug and D 1, their Honours and so forth. Mix with the World, and battle for thic State, Yet ev'ry child another long will fing: Free as young Lyttleton her cause pursue, “ Virtue, brave boys! 'tis Virtue makes a King." Still true to Virtue, and as warm as true : Truc, conscious Honour is to feel no lin; Sometimes with Aristippus, or St. Paul, He's armd without that's, innocent within : Indalge my candour, and grow all to all; Be this thy screen, and this thy wall of brass ; Back to my native moderation flide,
Compard to this, a Minister's an Afs. And win my way by yielding to the tide.
And fav, to which thall our applause belong, Long as to him, who works for debt, the day, This new Court jargon, or the good old song Long as the night to her whose Love's away, The modern danguage of corrupted peers, Long as the year's dull circlc fccms to run Or what was fioke at Creffy or Poitiers ? When the briik Minor pants for tirenty-onc; Who counfels best? who whilpers, “Be but great, So now th'unprofitable inomeots roll,
“ With praite or infamy leave that to fate ; That lock up all the functions of my foul;
" Get Place and Wealih, if pollible with grace ; That keep me from myself, and fill delay “ If not, by any means get Wealth and Place:” Life's instant business to a future day:
For what to have a Box where Eunuchs fing, That task, which as we follow, or defpise, And foremost in the circle eye a KingThe cldcit is a fool, the youngest wite:
Or he, who bids thee face with steady view Which done, the poorett can no wants endure; Proud Fortunc,and look shallowGreatness thro'; And, which not done, the richest must be poor. And, while he bids thee, sets th'Example too? Late as it is, I put myself to school,
If such a doctrine in St. James's air And feel some comfort not to be a fool.
Should chance to make the well-dreft rabble stare
j Weak tho' I am of limb, and thort of light, If honcft Siz take scandal at a Spark Far from a Lynx, and not a Giant quite; That lets admires the Palace than the Park, I'll do what Micad and Chctilden adrilc, Faith I shall give the antirer Reynard gave: To keep thefe limbs, and to preserve these eyes. “ I cannot like, dread Sir, your Royal Cave; Not to go back, is somewhat to advance;
Becaule I fee, by all the tracks about, And men must walk at least before they dance. “ Full many a beast goes in, but none come out.""
Say does thy blood rebel, tiiy borom more Adicu to Virtue, if you're once a Slave; With wretched Av'ricc, or as wretched Love? Send her to Court, you fend her to her grave. Know, there are words and spells which can control, Well, if a King's a Lion, at the least Between thc Fies, this Fever of the soul; The people are a many-hended bealt : Know, there are rhymes, which freth and freth Can they direct what mcasures to pursue, applied,
Who know themselves fo little what to do? Will cure the arrant'st puppy of his pride. Alike in nothing but one luft of gold, Bu furious, envious, Ilothtul, mad, or drunk, Jutt half the land would buy, and half be sold ; Slave to a wife, or valal to a punk,
Their country's wealth our mightier Misers drain, A Switz, a High Durch, or a Low Dutch bear; Or cross, to plunder provinces, the main ; All that we aik is but a parient ear.
The rett, fome farm the poor-box, some the pews; 'Tis the first Virtue, Vices to abhor ;
Some keep assemblies, and would keep the stews; And the first Wisdom, to bc Fool no more. Some with fat bucks on childless dotards fawn; But to the world no bugbear is so great Some win rich Widows by their chine and brawn; As want of figure, and a linall citatc.
While, with the filent growth of ten per cent, To cither India fce the Merchant fiy,
In dirt and dark nets, hundreds stink content. Scar'd at the spectre of pale Poverty !
Of all these ways, if each pursues his own, See him, with pains of body, pangs of foul, Satire, be kind, and let the wretch alone : Burn throughthe Tropic, frecze beneath the Pole! But thew me one who has it in his pow'r Wilt thou do nothing for a nobler end,
To act confiftent with himself an hour. Nothing, to make Philosophy thy friend? Sir Job fail'd forth, the evening bright and still, To stop thy foolith views, thy long defires, No place on earth (hecried) likeGreenwich hill!" And case thy heart of all that it admire's Up starts a palace, lo! th' obedient bale Here Wisdoms calls : “ Scek Virtue firit, be bold! Slopes at its foot, the woods its fides embrace, “ As Gold to filver, Virtue is to Gold."
The filver Thames reflcets its marble face. There, London's voice: “Get money, money ftill! Now let fome whimsy, or that Devil within “ And then let Virtue follow, it the will." Which guides all those who know not what This, this the saving docirine prcaclı'd to all,
they mean, From low St. James's up to higli St. Paul! But give the Knight (or give his Lady) fplcen; From hin whose quilis ftand quirer d at his car, Away, away! take all your fcaffolds down, To him who notches Iticky at Westminster. • For knyg's the word: my dear! we'll live in town.'
At am'rous Flavio is the stocking thrown; Whether we dread, or whether we desire,
In either case, believe me, we admire;
Surpris'd at better, or surpris'd at worfe. Did ever Proteus, Merlin, any witch,
Thus, good or bad to one extreme betray Transform themselves so strangely as the rich? Th'unbalanc'd mind, and snatch the man away; Well, but the poor--the poor have the same itch; For virtue's self may too much zeal be had; They change their weekly barber, weekly news, The worft of madmen is a saint run mad. Prefer a new japanner to their shoes,
Go then, and if you can, admire the state
You laugh, half beau, half sloven, if I stand, Our birthday nobles splendid livery.
But wherefore all this labour, all this strife?
The greatest can but blaze, and pass away. Kind to my dress, my figure, not to me. Grac'd as thou art with all the pow'r of words, Is this my guide, philosopher, and friend? So known, so honour'd, at the House of Lords : This he who loves me, and who ought to mend; Conspicuous scene ! another yet is nigh, Who ought to make me (what he can, or none)
(More filent far) where kings and pocts lie; That man divine whom wifdom calls her own; Where Murray (long enough his country's pride) Great without title, without fortune bless'd; Shall be no more than Tully, or than Hyde ! Rich even when plunder'd, honour'd while op- Rack'd with sciatics, martyr'd with the stone, press'd;
Will any mortal let himself alone ? Lor’d without youth, and follow'd without pow'r; Sce Ward by batter'd beaus invited over, At home, tho' exil'd; free, tho' in the tow'r : And defp'rate mifery lays hold on Dover. In short, that reas'ning, high, immortal thing; The case is easier in the mind's disease; Juft less than Jove, and much above a king, There all men may be cur’d whene'er they please, Nay, half in heaven-except (what's mighty odd) Would ye be bleft: despise luw joys, low gains; A fit of vapours clouds this demi-god ?
Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains :
Bc virtuous, and be happy for your pains.
But art thou one whom new opinions fway,
One who believes as Tindal leads the way;
Who virtue and a church alike disowns; “ NOT to admire, is all the art I know Thinksthat butwords,andthis but brick and stoncs? “ To make men happy, and to keep them fo." Fly then on all the wings of wild desire, (Plain truth, dear Murray! needs no flow'rs of Admire whate'er the maddest can admire. So take it in the very words of Creech). [ipeech; Is wealth thy passion ? Hence! from pole to pole,
This vault of air, this congregated ball, Where winds can carry, or where waves can roll, Self-center'd lun, and stars that risc and fall, For Indian spices, for Peruvian gold, There are, my friend ! whose philofophic eyes Prevent the greedy, or outbid the bold : Look thro' and trust the Ruler with his skies; Advance thy golden mountain to the skies; To him commit the hour, the day, the year, On the broad bafc of fifty thousand rise, And view this dreadful all without a fcar. Add one round hundred, and (if that's not fair) Admirc we then what carth's low entrailshold, Add fifty morc, and bring it to a square, Arabian fhores, or Indian scas infold;
For, mark th' advantage, just so many score All the mad trade of fools and Naves for gold? Will gain a wife with half as many more; Or popularity, or stars and strings?
Procure her beauty, make that benutv chaste; The mob's applauses, or the gifts of kings?
And then such friends-as cannot fail to last. Say with what eyes we ought at courts to gaze, A man of wealth is dubb’d a man of worth; And pay the great our hoinage of amaze? Venus shall give him form, and Anstis ,' th.
If weak the pleasure that from thelc can spring, (Believe mc, many a Gerinan princc is worse, The fear to want them is as weak a thing Who, proud of pedigrce, is poor of purs)