No more in fenates dare affert her laws,
Nor
pour

the bold debate in freedom's cause ;
Neglect the counsels of a sinking land,
And know no roftrum, but New-market's * fand:

Are these the fage directive powers design'd,
With the nice fearch of a fagacious mind,
In judgment's scales the fate of realms to weigh,
Britannia's intereft, trade, and laws survey?
O say, when least their fapient scheines are croit,
Or when a nation, or a match is loft ?
Who dams and fires with more exactness trace,
Than of their country's kings the sacred race :
Think London journies are the worst of ills,
And set their hands to articles for bills :
Strangers to all historians fage relate,
Their's are the memoirs of th' equestrian state :
Unkill'd in Albion's past and present views,
Who † Cheny's records for Rapin peruse.

Go on, brave youths, till, in some future age,
Whips fall become the fenatorial badge;
Till England see her thronging fenators
Meet all at Westminster, in boots and spurs ;
See the whole house, with mutual frenzy mad,
Her patriots all in leathern breeches clad;

* A kind of scaffold, where is held a consistory, made up of several very eminent gentlemen, for determining doubtful cases in the race, &c. This place might not improperly be cailed a Pandemonium.

+ The accurate and annual author of an historical list of the running horses, &c.

Of

*

a

a

Of bets, for taxes, learnedly debate,
And guide, with equal reins, a steed and state.

How would a virtuous * Houhnhym neigh disdain,
To see his brethren brook th' imperious rein;
Bear flav'ry's wanton whip, or galling goad,
Smoak thro' the glebe, or trace the destin'd road,
And robb’d of manhood by the murd'rous knife,
Sustain each fordid toil of servile life.
Yet ch! what rage would touch his gen'rous mind,
To see his son of more than mortal kind;
A kind, with each ingenuous virtue bleft,
That fills the prudent head or valorous breaft,
Afford diversion to that monster base,
That meanest spawn of man's half-monkey races
In whom pride, avarice, ignorance conspire,
That hated animal,' a Yahoo-'squire.

How are th' adventurers of the British race
Chang'd from the chosen chiefs of ancient days;
Who, warm'd with genuine glory's honest thirst,
Divinely labour'd in the Pythian duft.
Their's was the wreath that lifted from the throng,
Their's was the Theban bard's recording feng.
Mean time, to manly emulation blind,
Slaves to each vulgar vice that stains the mind,
Our British Therons issue to the race
Of their own gen'rous coursers the disgrace.
What tho' the grooms of Greece ne'er took the odds,
They won no bets- but then they foar'd to gods;
And more an Hiero's palm, a Pindar's ode,
Than all the united plates of George beftow'd,

* Vide Gulliver's travellers, voyage to the Houhnhyms.

04

Greece!

Greece! how I kindle at thy magic name,
Feel all thy warmth, and catch the kindred flame.
Thy folemn scenes and awful vifion's rise,

In ancient grace, before my mufing eyes.
Here Sparta's fons in mute attention hang,
While fage Lycurgus pours the mild harangue;
T'here Xerxes' hofts, all pale with deadly fear,
Shrink at her fated hero's flashing spear.
Here hung with many a lyre of filver ftring:
The laureat walks of fweet Iliffus spring:
And lo where, rapt in beauty's heavenly dream,
Hoar Plato walks his oliv'd Academe.-

Yet ah! no more the feat of art and arms
Delights with wifdom, or with virtue warms.
Lo! the ftern Turk, with more than Gothic rage,
Has blafted all the bays of ancient age;
No more her groves by facred feet are trod,
Each Attic grace has left the lov'd abode.
Fallen is fair Greece! by luxury's pleafing bane
Seduc'd, fhe drags a barbarous foreign chain.

Britannia, watch! O trim thy withering bays,
Remember thou haft rival'd Græcia's praife,
Great nurfe of works divine! yet oh! beware,
Left thou the fate of Greece, my country, fhare.
Recall thy wonted worth with confcious pride,
Thou too haft feen a Solon in a Hyde;

Haft bade thine Edwards and thine Henrys rear,
With Spartan fortitude, the British spear;
Alike haft feen thy fons deserve the meed,

Or of the moral, or the martial deed.

* Leonidas.

ODE

'ER midnight glafs, or by the fair

O'ER or

Without a thought, without a care

To discompense their rest,

The meaner herd exulting pant to rove
The flowery paths of pleafure's fairy grove:

While more determined bofoms glow

With high ambition's fires;
Source of whate'er is great below,
The grave of mean defires :

Adieu for them the pleasure-winged hour,
Adieu the bed of eafe, the Paphian bow'r!

Tho' rough the paths that lead to fame,
Their steps no toils difmay;
Ambition aids the generous aim,

And smooths the rugged way:

With all its luftre bids bright virtue shine,
And into action wakes the big defign.

3

What

What breaks th' aspiring statesman's reft?

What gives the mufe to fing?
Ambition wakes his anxious breaft,"

And plumes her towering wing:

Inftructs the feeble monarch how to bear
The crown, and all the thorns that faften there,

The general's wakeful bofom fires,
And guards the jealous camp;
The fcholar's flattering hope infpires,
And trims the midnight lamp:

The pride of arts from fair Ambition springs,
And blooms fecure beneath her foftering wings,"

Oft, goddefs, as thy genial ray
Pervades the feeling heart,

Love trembling quits his fenfual fway,
And drops his feeble dart :

The flowers, that in the Paphian garden grow,
Fade in the wreath that rounds the hero's brow,

Pleafure retreats with wanton fmiles,

And ftrength-unnerving eyes;
Hoping in vain by Parthian wiles

Το conquer as fhe flies:

Sloth with reluctance quits her foul embrace,
Rough care and manly toil affume her place.

Virtue