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Whether Old Age, with faint but chearful Ray,
Attends to gild the Evening of my Day,
Or Death's black Wing already be difplay'd,
To wrap me in the univerfal Shade

;

Whether the darken'd Room to mufe invite,
Or whiten'd Wall provoke the Skewer to write ;
In Durance, Exile, Bedlam, or the Mint,
Like Lee or Budgell, I will rhyme and print.
FRIEND.

Alas! young Man, your Days can ne'er be long,
In Flower of Age you perifh for a Song ;

Plumbs and Directors, Shylock and his Wife,
Will club their Tefters, now, to take your Life!
РОЕТ.

*What? arm'd for Virtue when I point the Pen,
Brand the bold Front of fhameless guilty Men;
Dafh the proud Gamefter in his gilded Car;
Bare the mean Heart that lurks beneath a Star;
Can there be wanting, to defend her Cause,
Lights of the Church, or Guardians of the Laws ?
Could penfion'd Boileau laih in honeft Strain
Flatterers and Bigots even in Lewis' Reign?
Could Laureate Dryden Pimp and Fryar engage,
And neither Charles nor James be in a Rage?
And I not strip the Gilding off a Knave,
Unplac'd, unpenfion'd, no Man's Heir, or Slave?

* What follows is not only fuperior to Horace, but equal to any thing in himself. WARBURTON.

I will,

I will, or perifh in the generous Cause:
Hear this, and tremble, you, who 'fcape the Laws!
Yes, while I live, no rich or noble Knave
Shall walk in Peace and Credit to his Grave.
To Virtue only and her Friends a Friend,
The World befide may murmur, or commend.
Know, all the diftant Din that World can keep,
Rolls o'er my Grotto, and but fooths my Sleep.
There, my Retreat the beft Companions grace,
Chiefs out of War, and Statesmen out of Place
There St. John mingles with my friendly Bowl
The Feaft of Reafon and the Flow of Soul:

And He*, whofe Lightning pierc'd th' Iberian Lines,
Now forms my Quincunx, and now ranks my Vines,
Or tarnes the Genius of the stubborn Plain
Almoft as quickly as he conquer'd Spain.

Envy must own, I live among the Great, No Pimp of Pleasure, and no Spy of State, With Eyes that pry not, Tongue that ne'er repeats, Fond to spread Friendships, but to cover Heats; To help who want, to forward who excell; This, all who know me, know; who love me, tell; And who unknown defame me, let them be Scribblers or Peers, alike are Mob to me. This is my Plea, on this I rest my CaufeWhat faith my Counfel, learned in the Laws ?

*Charles Mordaunt, Earl of Peterborough. See the Note on the Imitation of Ode XII. Book I.

VOL. III.

G

FRIEND.

FRIEND.

Your Plea is good; but ftill, I fay, beware!
Laws are explain'd by Men; -fo have a Care.
It ftands on Record, that in Richard's Times
A Man was hang'd for very honest Rhymes;
Confult the Statute, quart. I think, it is,
Edwardi fext. or prim. et quint. Eliz.

See Libels, Satires- here you have it read.
РОЕТ.

Libels and Satires! lawless things, indeed! But grave Epistles, bringing Vice to Light! Such as a King might read, a Bishop write, Such as Sir Robert would approve

FRIEND.

* Indeed?

The Cafe is alter'd-you may then proceed;
In fuch a Cause the Plaintiff will be hifs'd,
My Lords the Judges laugh, and you're disiniss'd.

NOTE.

* Solventur risu tabulæ.] Some Critics tell us, it is Want of Tafte to put this Line in the Mouth of Trebatius. But our Poet confutes this Cenfure, by fhowing how well the Sense of it agrees to his Friend's Character. The Lawyer is cautious and fearful; but as foon as Sir Robert, the Patron both of Law and Gofpel, is named as approving them, he changes his Note, and, in the Language of old Plowden, owns, the Cafe is altered. Now, was it not as natural, when Horace had given a Hint that Auguftus himself supported him, for Trebatius, a Court Advocate, who had been long a Client to him and his Uncle, to confefs the Cafe was altered? WARBURTON.

SATIRE II.

On FRUGALITY.

By Mr. DUNCOMBE, Senior.

123

WHAT, and how great, the Benefits, that From Temperance,here learn,myFriends,withMe; (For 'tis not I, but good Ofellus fpeaks,

Taught by pureNature, wise without the Schools)
But come not to his Lecture, gorg'd with Food,
From fplendid Tables and luxurious Feafts,
Where foolish Pomp corrupts the Judgment's Eye;
But fafting come: Why fasting, you will fay?·
You ftrait fhall hear. Can any Judge, when brib'd,
Sift out the Truth, and follow Reafon's Lore?
Go hunt,' he cry'd, or rein th' unbroken Steed,
• Or Roman Arms, in mimic Warfare, wield :
But if, foft-train'd to Grecian Revelries,

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You think this manly Exercise too hard,

At 1 Tennis play, or hurl the mafly Bar; The pleafing Sport will leffen all your Toil. When thus you have remov'd your fickly Qualms, When hungry and a-thirst, scorn fimple Fare; Nor drink the harsh Falernian Wine, unless With Attic Honey mellow'd to the Tafte. ‹ Your Butler is abroad; the wintry Sea, "Black'ning with Storms,defends its Tenant-Fifh; G 2

• Yet

Yet now with Bread and Salt

you can allay Your craving Appetite: What is the Cause? 'Tis plain the Relifh from yourself proceeds, • And not from Meats high-flavour'd: But do You • Cook Dainties for Yourself by Sweat and Toil. The Man, with late Debauch fo puff'd and pale, Nor foreign Ortolans, nor Turbots please.

But, fpite of all I fay, I doubt, if now
A Peacock and a Pullet grac'd your Board,
You would regale on that, and this reject,
Mifled by Show. For the rare Bird is bought
For a vaft Sum, and with its painted Tail
Delights. What to the Purpose this? In Tafte
It fcarce is equal to a common Fowl.

You cannot eat the Feathers you admire,
Nor does it boast thefe Honours in the Dish.

Say, by what wondrous Instinct you discern,
Whether this Pike was in the River caught,
Or in the Sea; and if between the Bridges,
Or near the Fountain of the Tufcan Stream?

You fondly praife a Mullet of three Pounds,
Though cut in Pieces ere it can be ftew'd.
The outward Form of Things deceives the Mind.
You hate fmall Mullets, Pikes when large; becaufe
Nature has made these large, and smaller those. 2

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Give me,' the harpy-throated Glutton cries, 3 A mighty Turbot in a mighty Difh !'O may propitious South Winds taint his Food! But why fhould I invoke their Aid? Excefs

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