P. So proud, I am no Slave:

So impudent, I own myfelf no knave:

206

So odd, my Country's Ruin makes me grave.
Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to fee
Men not afraid of God, afraid of me:
Safe from the Bar, the Pulpit, and the Throne,
Yet touch'd and fham'd by Ridicule alone.

211

O facred weapon! left for Truth's defence, Sole Dread of Folly, Vice, and Infolence! To all but Heav'n-directed hands deny'd, The Muse may give thee, but the Gods must guide : Rev'rent I touch thee! but with honeft zeal; To roufe the Watchmen of the public Weal,

216

VER. 208. Yes, I am proud; etc.] In this ironical exultation the Poet infinuates a subject of the deepest humiliation.

VER. 211. Yet touch'd and sham'd by Ridicule alone.] The Paffions are given us to awaken and support Virtue. But they frequently betray their truft, and go over to the interefts of Vice. Ridicule, when employed in the cause of Virtue, shames and brings them back to their duty. Hence the use and importance of Satire.

VER. 14. To all but Heav'n-directed hands] " The Citizen "(fays Plato, in his fifth book of Laws) who does no injury 66 to any one, without queftion, merits our esteem. He, who, not content with being barely just himself, opposes the courfe of injuftice, by profecuting it before the Magiftrate, "merits our esteem vaftly more. The first difcharges the "duty of a fingle Citizen: but the other does the office of a "Body. But he whose zeal stops not here, but proceeds to

ASSIST THE MAGISTRATE IN PUNISHING is the most "valuable bleffing of Society. This is the PERFECT CITIZEN, to whom we should adjudge the prize of Virtue,"

220

To Virtue's work provoke the tardy Hall,
And goad the Prelate flumb'ring in his Stall.
Ye tinfel Infects! whom a Court maintains,
That counts your Beauties only by your Stains,
Spin all your Cobwebs o'er the Eye of Day!
The Mufe's wing shall brush you all away:
All his Grace preaches, all his Lordfhip fings, 224
All that makes Saints of Queens, and Gods of Kings.
All, all but Truth, drops dead-born from the Preís,
Like the last Gazette, or the laít Addrefs.

When black Ambition ftains a public Cause,
A Monarch's Sword when mad Vain-glory draws,
Not Waller's Wreath can hide the Nation's Scar,
Nor Boileau turn the Feather to a Star.

VARIATIONS.

After ver. 227. in the MS.

Where's now the Star that lighted Charles to rife?
---With that which follow'd Julius to the skies.
Angels, that watch'd the Royal Oak fo well,
How chanc'd ye nod, when lucklefs Sorel fell?
Hence, lying miracles! reduc'd fo low
As to the regal-touch, and papal-toe;
Hence haughty Edgar's title to the Main,

231

Britain's to France, and thine to India, Spain? VER. 222. Cobrebs] Weak and flight fophiftry against virtue and honour. Thin colours over vice, as unable to hide the light of Truth, as cobwebs to fhade the fun.

VER. 228. When black Ambition, etc.]The cafe of Cromwell in the civil war of England; and (ver. 229.) of Louis XIV. ' in his conquest of the Low Countries.

VER. 231. Nor Boileau turn the Feather to a Star.] See his Ode on Namur; where (to ufe his own words)" il a fait un Aftre de la Plume blanche que le Roy porte ordinairement

66

Not fo, when diadem'd with rays divine,

Touch'd with the Flame that breaks from Virtue's

Shrine,

Her Priestess Mufe forbids the Good to die,
And opes the Temple of Eternity.

wear,

235

240

There, other Trophies deck the truly brave,
Than fuch as Anftis cafts into the Grave;
Far other Stars than * and **
And may defcend to Mordington from STAIR:
(Such as on HOUGH's unfully'd Mitre shine,
Or beam, good DIGBY, from a heart like thine)
Let Envy bowl, while Heav'n's whole Chorus fings,
And bark at Honour not confer'd by Kings;
Let Flatt'ry fick'ning fee the Incense rise,

Sweet to the World, and grateful to the Skies: 245
Truth guards the Poet, fanctifies the line,

And makes immortal, Verfe as mean as mine.

" à fon Chapeau, et qui est en effet une efpece de Comete, fatale a nos ennemis."

VER. 237. Anftis] The chief Herald at arms. It is the cuftom, at the funeral of great peers, to caft into the grave the broken ftaves and enfigns of honour.

VER. 239. Stair ;] John Dalrymple Earl of Stair, Knight of the Thiftle; ferved in all the wars under the Duke of Marlborough; and afterwards as Embaffador in France.

VER. 240, 241. Hough and Digby] Dr. John Hough Bishop of Worcester, and the Lord Digby. The one an affertor of the Church of England in oppofition to the false measures of King James II. The other as firmly attached to the cause of that King. Both acting out of principle, and equally men of honour and virtue.

1

Yes, the last Pen for Freedom let me draw, When Truth stands trembling on the edge of Law; Here, Laft of Britons ? let your Names be read; 250 Are none, none living? let me praise the Dead, And for that Cause which made your Fathers fhine, Fall by the Votes of their degen'rate Line.

Fr. Alas! alas! pray end what you began, And write next winter more Essays on Man.

VARIATIONS.

VER. 255. in the MS.

Quit, quit thefe themes, and write Effays on Man.

255

VER. ult.] This was the last poem of the kind printed by our author, with a refolution to publish no more ; but to enter thus, in the most plain and folemn manner he could," a fort of PROTEST against that infuperable corruption and depravity of manners, which he had been so unhappy as to live to fee. Could he have hoped to have amended any, he had continued thofe attacks; but bad men were grown fo fhameless and fo powerful, that Ridicule was become as unfafe as it was ineffectual. The Poem raised him, as he knew it would, fome enemies; but he had reafon to be fatisfied with the approbation of good men, and the teftimony of his own confcience,

ON

Receiving from the Right Hon. the Lady

FRANCES SHIRLEY

A STANDISH and Two PENS.

YES,

'ES, I beheld th' Athenian Queen Defcend in all her fober charms "And take (fhe faid, and fmil'd ferene) "Take at this hand celeftial arms:

"Secure the radiant weapons wield;
"This golden lance fhall guard Defert,
"And if a Vice dares keep the field,
"This fteel fhall ftab it to the heart."

Aw'd on my bended knees I fell,
Receiv'd the weapons of the sky;

And dipt them in the fable Well,

The fount of Fame or Infamy.

The Lady Frances Shirley] A Lady whofe great Merit Mг, Pope took a real pleasure to celebrate.