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The Hero William and the Martyr Charles,

One knighted Blackmore, and one pension'd
Quarles:

Which made old Ben and surly Dennis swear,

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"No Lord's anointed, but a Russian Bear."

Not with such majesty, such bold relief,
The Forms august, of King or conqu❜ring Chief,
E'er swell'd on marble; as in verse have shin'd
(In polish'd verse) the Manners and the Mind.

390

NOTES.

had not left L. when the grave Historian Anthony Wood was so hospitably entertained there. Who, in the journal of his life under the year 1671, tells the following story: "I and John Echard, the Author of the Contempt of the Clergy, dined with Archbishop Sheldon. After dinner, when the Archbishop had withdrawn and selected his company, I was called into the withdrawing-room, and Echard was left behind to go drink and smoke with the Chaplains:" So well adjusted was this respect of persons: Echard, the wittiest man of the age, was very fitly left to divert the Chaplains; and Anthony Wood, without all peradventure the dullest, was called in to enjoy the conversation of his Grace. W.

Ver. 385. But Kings in Wit] They may, nevertheless, be very good Kings. It is not for his verses, any more than for his victories, that the late King of Prussia will be celebrated by posterity but for softening the rigours of a despotic government, by a code of milder laws than his crouching people had known before and for building many villages and farm-houses, to encourage agriculture, and repair the wastes and ravages of war. He must therefore be pardoned for an absurd judgment, which he has passed on Homer, whom he could not read in the Original, where he says; "Ses chants et l'action ont peu ou point de liaison les uns avec les autres, ce qui leur a mérité le nom de rapsodies." Preface to the Henriade.

Ver. 387. Pension'd Quarles ;] Who has lately been more favourably spoken of by some ingenious critics: particularly by the author of Thirty Letters.

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Repentes per humum, quam res componere gestas,
Terrarumque 'situs et flumina dicere, et arces
Montibus impositas, et barbara regna, tuisque
Auspiciis totum confecta duella per orbem,
Claustraque custodem pacis cohibentia Janum,
Et formidatam Parthis, te principe, Romam :
Si quantum cuperem, possem quoque. sed neque

parvum

* Carmen majestas recipit tua; nec meus audet
Rem tentare pudor, quam vires ferre recusent.
Sedulitas autem 'stulte, quem diligit, urget;
Præcipue cum se numeris commendat et arte.
Discit enim citius, meminitque libentius illud
Quod quis deridet, quam quod probat et veneratur.
Nil moror "officium, quod me gravat: ac neque ficto
In pejus vultu proponi cereus usquam,

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Nec
prave factis decorari versibus opto:
Ne Prubeam pingui donatus munere, et una
Cum scriptore meo, capsa porrectus aperta,
Deferar in vicum vendentem thus et odores,
Et piper, et quicquid chartis amicitur ineptis.

NOTES.

Ver. 397. How dearly bought !] A very bitter stroke of satire! especially in the word, dearly.

Ver. 409. They say, I bite.] If any key had been wanting to the artful irony contained in this imitation, especially in the last sixteen lines, this one verse would have been sufficient to fix the Poet's intention. Neither Dr. Warburton nor Dr. Hurd takes the least notice of any irony being intended in this imitation. To what motive shall we ascribe this cautious silence?

Oh! could I mount on the Mæonian wing,

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394

Your Arms, your Actions, your Repose, to sing! What 'seas you travers'd, and what fields you fought! Your Country's Peace, how oft, how dearly bought! How barb'rous rage subsided at your word,

And Nations wonder'd while they dropp'd the sword! How, when you nodded, o'er the land and deep, 400 Peace stole her wing, and wrapt the world in sleep; Till earth's extremes your mediation own,

And Asia's Tyrants tremble at your Throne

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But Verse, alas! your Majesty disdains;

And I'm not us'd to Panegyric strains:

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The Zeal of 'Fools offends at any time,
But most of all, the Zeal of Fools in rhyme.
Besides, a fate attends on all I write,
That when I aim at praise, they say "I bite.
A vile "Encomium doubly ridicules:
There's nothing blackens like the ink of fools.
If true, a woful likeness; and if lies,
"Praise undeserv'd is scandal in disguise:"
Well may he blush, who gives it, or receives;
And when I flatter, let my dirty leaves
(Like Journals, Odes, and such forgotten things
As Eusden, Philips, Settle, writ of Kings)
Clothe spice, line trunks, or flutt'ring in a row,
Befringe the rails of Bedlam and Soho.

405

410

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