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mediation own,

"Till earth's extremes your
And Afia's tyrants tremble at your throne-
But verfe, alas! your majefty difdains;
And I'm not us'd to panegyric strains *:
The zeal of fools offends at any time,
But most of all, the zeal of fools in rhyme.
Befides, a fate attends on all I write,

That when I aim at praife, they say I bite.
A vile encomium doubly ridicules:

There's nothing blackens like the ink of fools.
If true, a woeful likeness; and if lyes,
"Praise undeferv'd is scandal in disguise:
Well may he blufh, who gives it, or receives;
And when I flatter, let my dirty leaves

(Like Journals, Odes, and fuch forgotten things
As Eufden, Philips, Settle, writ of kings)
Cloathe spice, line trunks, or flutt'ring in a row,
Befringe the rails of Bedlam and Soho.

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Archbishop Tillotfon hath faid, "That fatire and invective were the "eafieft kind of wit, because almoft any degree of it would ferve to abuse "and find fault. For wit (fays he) is a keen instrument, and every one "can cut and gash with it. But to carve a beautiful image and polish it, re

quires great art and dexterity. To praife a thing well, is an argument of. "much more wit than to abuse: a little wit, and a great deal of ill nature,

will furnish a man for fatire, but the greatest inftance of wit is to com"mend well." Thus far this candid prelate. And I, in my turn, might as well fay, that fatire was the most difficult, and panegyric the most easy. thing in nature; for that any barber-furgeon can curl and fhave, and give cofmetic washes for the fkin; but it requires the abilities of an anatomist to diffect and lay open the whole interior of the human frame. But the truth is, thefe fimilitudes prove nothing, but the good fancy, or the ill judgement The one is just as eafy to do ill, and as difficult to do well as the other. In our author's Effay on the Characters of Men, the encomium on Lord Cobham, and the fatire on Lord Wharton, are the equal efforts of the fame great genius. There is one advantage indeed in fatire over panegyric, which every body has taken notice of, that it is more readily received; bur this does not fhew that it is more easily written.

of the ufer.

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DEAR Col'nel, COBHAM's and your country's friend!
You love a verfe, take fuch as I can fend.

A Frenchman comes, prefents you with his boy,
Bows and begins-" This lad, Sir, is of Blois *:
"Obferve his fhape how clean! his locks how curl'd! 5
My only fon, I'd have him fee the world:

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"His French is pure; his voice too-you fhall hear.

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Sir, he's your flave, for twenty pound a year. "Mere wax as yet, you fashion him with ease, "Your barber, cook, upholft'rer, what you please : "A perfect genius at an op'ra fong—

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"To fay too much, might do my honour wrong. "Take him with all his virtues, on my word; "His whole ambition was to ferve a lord: "But, Sir, to you, with what would I not part? "Tho' faith, I fear, 'twill break his mother's heart.

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A town in Beauce, where the French tongue is spoke in great purity. VOL. II.

I

"Once

"Once (and but once) I caught him in a lye,
"And then, unwhipp'd, he had the grace to cry:
"The fault he has I fairly fhall reveal,
"(Could you o'erlook but that) it is, to fteal."

If, after this, you took the gracelets lad,
Could you complain, my friend, he prov'd fo bad?
Faith, in fuch cafe, if you should prosecute,
I think Sir Godfrey * fhould decide the fuit;
Who fent the thief that ftole the cash, away,
And punish'd him that put it in his way.

Confider then, and judge me in this light;
I told you when I went, I could not write;
You faid the fame; and are you difcontent
With laws, to which you gave your own affent?
Nay worse, to ask for verfe at fuch a time!"
D'ye think me good for nothing but to rhyme ?
In ANNA's wars, a foldier 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.
This put the man in fuch a defp'rate mind,
Between revenge, and grief, and hunger join'd,
Against the foe, himself, and all mankind,
He leap'd the trenches, fcal'd a caftle-wall,
Tore down a standard, took the fort and all.
"Prodigious well;" his great cominander 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)
"Go on, my friend (he cry'd) fee yonder walls!
"Advance and conquer! go where glory calls!
"More honours, more rewards, attend the brave."
Don't you remember what reply he gave ?

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"D'ye think me, noble Gén'ral, fuch a fot? "Let him take caftles who has ne'er a groat.'

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An eminent juftice of peace, who decided much in the manner of Sancho

Panza.--Sir Godfrey Kneller.

Bred

Bred up at home, full early I begun
To read in Greek the wrath of Peleus' fon.
Befides, my father taught me from a lad,
The better art to know the good from bad :
(And little fure imported to remove,

To hunt for truth in Maudlin's learned grove.)
But knottier points we knew not half fo well,
Depriv'd us foon of our paternal cell;

And certain laws, by fuff'rers thought unjuft,
Deny'd all pofts of profit or of truft:
Hopes after hopes of pious papifts fail'd,

While mighty WILLIAM's thund'ring arm prevail'd.
For right hereditary tax'd and fin'd,

He ftuck to poverty with peace of mind;
And me, the Mufes help'd to undergo it;
Convict a Papift he, and I a poet.

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But (thanks to Homer) fince I live and thrive,
Indebted to no prince or peer alive,

Sure I fhould want the care of ten Monroes*,

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If I would fcribble, rather than repose.

Years foll'wing years, fteal fomething ev'ry day,

At laft they fteal us from ourselves away;
In one our frolics, one amufements end,
In one a mistress drops, in one a friend :
This fubtle thief of life, this paltry time,
What will it leave me, if it fnatch my rhyme
If ev'ry wheel of that unweary'd mill,

That turn'd ten thousand verfes, now ftands ftill ?
But after all, what would you have me do?
When out of twenty I can please not two;
When this heroics only deigns to praise,
Sharp fatire that, and that Pindaric lays ?
One likes the pheafant's wing, and one the leg;
The vulgar boil, the learned roaft an egg.

Hard talk to hit the palate of fuch guests,

When Oldfield loves what Dartineuf detefts.

Dr. Monroe, physician to Bedlam Hospital,
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But

But grant I may relapse, for want of grace, Again to rhyme; can London be the place? Who there his mufe, or felf, or foul attends,

In crouds, and courts, law, bufinefs, feafts, and friends My counsel fends to execute a deed :

A poet begs me I will hear him read :

In Palace-yard at nine you'll find me there-
At ten for certain, Sir, in Bloomfb'ry-square-
Before the lords at twelve my cause comes on--
There's a rehearfal, Sir, exact at one.-

Oh but a wit can ftudy in the streets,
"And raise his mind above the mob he meets."
Not quite fo well however as one ought;
A hackney coach may chance to spoil a thought;
And then a nodding beam, or pig of lead,
God knows, may hurt the very ablest head.
Have you not feen, at Guildhall's narrow país,
Two aldermen difpute it with an ass ?
And peers give way, exalted as they are,
Ev'n to their own S-r-v-nce in a car?

Go, lofty poet! and in fuch a croud,
Sing thy fonorous verfe-but not aloud.
Alas! to grottoes and to groves we run,
To ease and filence, ev'ry muse's fon :
Blackmore himself, for any grand effort,

Would drink and doze at Tooting † or Earl's-court.
How fhall I rhyme in this eternal roar?

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How match the bards whom none e'er match'd before?
The man, who, ftretch'd in Ifis' calm retreat,
To books and ftudy gives fev'n years compleat,
See! ftrow'd with learned duft, his night-cap on,
He walks, an object new beneath the fun!
The boys flock round him, and the people ftare:
So ftiff, fo mute! fome ftatue you would fwear,
Stept from its pedestal to take the air!

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And here, while town, and court, and city roars,
With mobs, and duns, and foldiers, at their doors;

↑ Two villages within a few miles of 1øndon,

Shall

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