Hartshorn, or something that shall close your eyes. With arms, and George, and Brunswick, crowd the verse; Rend with tremendous sound your ears asunder, With gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss, and thunder? Or nobly wild, with Budgell's fire and force, P. Alas! few verses touch their nicer ear; They scarce can bear their laureate twice a year; And justly Cæsar scorns the poet's lays; It is to history he trusts for praise. F. Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it still, Than ridicule all taste, blaspheme quadrille, Abuse the city's best good men in metre, And laugh at peers that put their trust in Peter. E'en those you touch not, hate you. P. What should ail 'em? F. A hundred smart in Timon and in Balaam: The fewer still you name, you wound the more; Bond is but one, but Harpax is a score. Sir Richard Blackmore. • At the battle of Oudenard. P. Each mortal has his pleasure: none deny Scarsdale his bottle, Darty7 his ham-pie: Ridotta sips and dances till she see The doubling lustres dance as fast as she: I love to pour out all myself as plain The soul stood forth, nor kept a thought within; Like good Erasmus, in an honest mean, While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory. To run a muck, and tilt at all I meet ; 7 Dartineuf, a great epicure, with whom Pope appears to have lived on good terms. Of this distinguished Member of Parliament, Sir Robert Walpole repeatedly said, that he was not corruptible." 66 I only wear it in a land of Hectors, Thieves, supercargoes, sharpers, and directors. Slander or poison dread from Delia's rage; Then, learned sir! (to cut the matter short) Whether the darken'd room to muse invite, Judge Page is said to have treated delinquents rather too roughly. See Memoir prefixed to these volumes, p. xcii. Or whiten'd wall provoke the skewer to write; In flower of age you perish for a song! P. What? arm'd for virtue when I point the pen, There my retreat the best companions grace, Chiefs out of war, and statesmen out of place: There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl The feast of reason and the flow of soul; And he, whose lightning pierc'd th' Iberian lines, Now forms my quincunx, and now ranks my vines; Or tames the genius of the stubborn plain, Almost 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 excel; 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 cause— What saith my counsel, learned in the laws? F. Your plea is good; but still I say, beware! Laws are explain'd by men—so have a care. It stands on record, that in Richard's times A man was hang'd for very honest rhymes. Consult the statute; quart. I think it is, Edwardi sext. or prim. et quint. Eliz. See libels, satires-here you have it—read. P. 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 Robert3 would approve—F. Indeed! The case is alter'd-you may then proceed: In such a cause the plaintiff will be hiss'd, My lords the judges laugh, and you're dismiss'd. 3 Walpole. 2 The Earl of Peterborough. |