Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will truft, Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the duft. 3BID. P. 193. HONEST INDIGNATION. WHAT? arm'd for Virtue when I point the pen, Brand the bold front of shameless guilty men; Hear this, and tremble! you, who 'fcape the Laws. IMITATIONS OF HORACE, V. z. p. 214. IN INCONSTANCY OF PROPERTY. WHAT's Property? dear Swift! you fee it alter From you to me, from me to Peter Walter ; Or, in a mortgage, prove a Lawyer's share ; Or, in a jointure, vanish from the heir; Or, in pure equity, (the cafe not clear) The Chanc'ry takes your rents for twenty year: At best, it falls to fome ungracious fon, Who cries," My father's damn'd, and all's my " own." Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford, Become the portion of a booby Lord. IBID. p. 230. FAME. AND what is Fame the Meanest have their day; The Greatest can but blaze, and pass away. Grac'd as thou art with all the pow'r of words, So known, fo honour'd, at the Houfe of Lords; Confpicuous fcene! another yet is nigh, (More filent far) where Kings and Poets lie; Where Murray (long enough his Country's pride)' Shall be no more than Tully, or than Hyde! IBID. P. 251. OLD OLD ENGLISH MANNERS. TIME was, a fober Englishman would knock His fervants up, and rise by five o'clock ; Inftru&t his Family in ev'ry rule; And send his Wife to Church, his Son to School. To teach their frugal Virtues to his Heir; Now times are chang'd, and one Poetic Itch And all our Grace at table is a Song. IBID. P. 270. SCALE OF POETICAL PERFECTION. WE conquer'd France, but felt our Captive's charms; Her Arts victorious triumph'd o'er our Arms; Wit grew polite, and Numbers learn'd to flow. Late Late, very late, correctnefs grew our care, Shew'd us that France had fomething to admire. IBID. P. 276. COURAGE IN POVERTY. In ANNA'S Wars, a Soldier poor and old Had dearly earn'd a little purfe of gold: Tir'd with a tedious march, one luckless night, He flept, poor dog! and loft it, to a doit. P This This put the man in fuch a defp'rate mind, •} Prodigious well!" his great Commander cry'd, Gave him much praife, and fome reward befide. Next, pleas'd his Excellence a town to batter; (Its name I know not, and 'tis no great matter) "Goon, my Friend, (he cry'd) see yonder walls! "Advance and conquer! go where glory calls! "" More honours, more rewards attend the brave.” Don't you remember what reply he gave? 66 D'ye think me, noble Gen'ral, such a Sot? Let him take caftles who has ne'er a groat. IBID. RECIPROCAL FLATTERY. THE Temple late two brother Serjeants faw, Who deem'd each other oracles of law; With equal talents, thefe congenial fouls, One lull'd th' Exchequer, and one ftunn'd the Rolls. Each had a gravity would make you split, And fhook his head at Murray, as a Wit. 'Twas, "Sir, your law" and " law”—and Sir, your eloquence," 66 "Yours, Cowper's manner-and yours, Talbor's "fenfe." Thus we difpofe of all poetic merit; Yours Milton's genius, and mine Homer's fpirit. Call |