FAT PART I. ATE gave the Word; the cruel arrow sped; And POPE lies number'd with the mighty Dead! Refign'd he fell; fuperior to the dart, That quench'd its rage in YOUR's and BRITAIN'S Heart: You mourn: but BRITAIN, lull'd in reft profound, (Unconscious Britain!) flumbers o'er her wound. 6 Exulting Dulness ey'd the fetting Light, And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the Night: And Snake-hung ENVY hiffes o'er his Urn: Th' envenom'd Monsters fpit their deadly foam, To blaft the Laurel that furrounds his Tomb. But You, OWARBURTON! whofe eye refin'd 15 Can fee the greatness of an honest mind ; Can fee each Virtue and each Grace unite, And taste the Raptures of a pure Delight; You vifit oft his awful Page with Care, And view that bright Affemblage treasur❜d there; 20 In ev'ry Breast there burns an active flame, 25 30 And Youth and Manhood feel the heart-born fire: The Charms of Praise the Coy, the Modeft wooe, 35 And only fly, that Glory may pursue: She, Pow'r refiftless, rules the wife and great, T Haunts the proud City, and the lowly Shade, And sways alike the Scepter and the Spade. 40 Thus Heav'n in Pity wakes the friendly Flame, To urge Mankind on Deeds that merit Fame: But Man, vain Man, in folly only wife, Thus ftill imperious NATURE plies her part; And fure, the deadlieft Foe to Virtue's flame, We feek our Virtues in each other's breaft ; 45 55 60 65 Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign Vice, Behold, yon Wretch, by impious fashion driv❜n, 75 Believes and trembles while he fcoffs at Heav'n. By weakness strong, and bold thro' fear alone, He dreads the fneer by fhallow Coxcombs thrown; Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod; To Man a Coward, and a Brave to God. 80 Faith, Juftice, Heav'n itfelf now quit their hold, When to falfe Fame the captiv'd heart is fold: IMITATIONS. VER. 80. To Man a Coward, etc.] Vois tu ce Libertin en public intrepide, Qui preche contre un Dieu que dans fon Ame il croit? Mais de fes faux Amis il craint la Raillerie, BOILEAU, Ep. ili. Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato dy'd ; 85 Hence SATIRE's pow'r: 'Tis her corrective part, To calm the wild disorders of the heart. 90 She points the arduous height where Glory lies, And teaches mad Ambition to be wife: In the dark bofom wakes the fair defire, Draws good from ill, a brighter flame from fire; Strips black Oppreffion of her gay disguise, And bids the Hag in native horror rise; Strikes tow'ring Pride and lawless Rapine dead, And plants the wreath on Virtue's awful head. Nor boasts the Mufe a vain imagin'd Pow'r, And ev'ry Foe to Wisdom feels her fway. 95 100 Smarts, Pedants, as the fmiles, no more are vain; 105 Defponding Fops refign the clouded cane: |