« PreviousContinue »
the word; the cruel arrow sped ; And POPE lies number'd with the mighty
That quench'd its rage in YOURS and BRITAIN'S
You mourn: but BRITAIN, lull'd in rest profound,
And Snake-hung ENVY hiffes o'er his Urn:
But You, O WARBURTON! whofe eye Can fee the greatnefs of an honeft mind;
Can fee each Virtue and each Grace unite,
And rev'rence HIS and SATIRE's gen'rous End.
IN ev'ry Breast there burns an active flame, The Love of Glory, or the Dread of Shame: 30 The Paffion ONE, tho' various it appear, As brighten'd into Hope, or dimm'd by Fear. The lisping Infant, and the hoary Sire,
And Youth and Manhood feel the heart-born fire: The Charms of Praise the Coy, the Modest wooe, And only fly, that Glory may pursue : 36 She, Pow'r refiftlefs, rules the wife and great; Bends ev'n reluctant Hermits at her feet;
Haunts the proud City, and the lowly Shade,
Thus Heav'n in Pity wakes the friendly Flame, Το urge Mankind on Deeds that merit Fame: But Man, vain Man, in folly only wife, Rejects the Manna fent him from the Skies: With rapture hears corrupted Paffion's call, Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall. As each deceitful fhadow tempts his view, He for the imag'd Subftance quits the true; Eager to catch the vifionary Prize, In queft of Glory plunges deep in Vice; 'Till madly zealous, impotently vain, He forfeits ev'ry Praise he pants to gain.
Thus ftill imperious NATURE plies her part; And still her Dictates work in ev'ry heart. Each Pow'r that fov'reign Nature bids enjoy, 55 Man may corrupt, but Man can ne'er destroy. Like mighty rivers, with refiftless force The Paffions rage, obftructed in their course; Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore, And drown those Virtues which they fed before.
And fure, the deadlieft Foe to Virtue's flame, Our worst of Evils, is perverted Shame. Beneath this load what abject numbers groan, Th' entangled Slaves to folly not their own! Meanly by fashionable fear oppress'd, We seek our Virtues in each other's breaft; Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign Vice, Another's weakness, int'rest, or caprice. Each Fool to low Ambition, poorly great, That pines in fplendid wretchedness of state, 70 Tir'd in the treach'rous Chafe, would nobly yield, And, but for Shame, like SYLLA, quit the field : The Dæmon Shame paints ftrong the ridicule, And whispers clofe," the World will call you Fool."
Behold yon Wretch, by impious fashion driv'n, Believes and trembles while he fcoffs at Heav'n. By weakness strong, and bold thro' fear alone, He dreads the fneer by fhallow Coxcombs thrown; Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod;
To Man a Coward, and a Brave to God.
VER. 80. To Man a Coward, etc.]
Vois tu ce Libertin en public intrepide,
Faith, Juftice, Heav'n itself now quit their hold, When to false Fame the captiv'd heart is fold : Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato dy'd; Nought could fubdue his Virtue, but his Pride. Hence chafte Lucretia's Innocence betray'd 85 Fell by that Honour which was meant its aid. Thus Virtue finks beneath unnumber'd woes, When Paffions, born her friends, revolt her foes.
Hence SATIRE's pow'r:' Tis her corrective part, To calm the wild diforders of the heart.
She points the arduous height where Glory lies, And teaches mad Ambition to be wife:
In the dark bofom wakes the fair defire,
Strips black Oppreffion of her gay disguise,
And bids the Hag in native horror rife;
Nor boasts the Muse a vain imagin'd Pow'r, Tho' oft fhe mourn thofe ills fhe cannot cure. 100
Mais de fes faux Amis il craint la Raillerie,
BOILEAU, Ep. iii.