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B. To Worth or Want well-weigh'd, be Bounty

giv'n,

And ease, or emulate, the care of Heav'n;
(Whose measure full o'erflows on human race)
Mend Fortune's fault, and juftify her grace.
Wealth in the grofs is death; but life diffus'd;
As poifon heals, in juft proportion us'd:
In heaps, like Ambergrife, a fink it lies,
But well difpers'd, is incenfe to the Skies.

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230

235

P. Who ftarves by Nobles, or with Nobles eats ? The Wretch that trufts them, and the Rogue that

cheats.

240.

Is there a Lord, that knows a chearful noon
Without a Fiddler, Flatt'rer, or Buffoon?
Whose table, Wit, or modest Merit share,
Un-elbow'd by a Gamefter, Pimp, or Play'r?
Who copies Your's, or OXFORD's better part,
To eafe th' opprefs'd, and raife the finking heart?
Where-e'er he fhines, oh Fortune, gild the fcene,
And Angels guard him in the golden Mean!
There, English Bounty yet a-while may ftand,
And honour linger ere it leaves the land.

246

VER. 243. OXFORD's better part,] Edward Harley, Earl of Oxford. The fon of Robert, Earl Mortimer by Queen Anne.

created Earl of Oxford, and This nobleman died regret

ted by all men of letters, great numbers of whom had experienced his benefits. He left behind him one of the most noble Libraries in Europe.

But all our praifes why fhould Lords engross? Rise, honest Muse! and fing the MAN of Ross: 250 Pleas'd Vaga echoes thro' her winding bounds, And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds. Who hung with woods yon mountain's fultry brow? From the dry rock who bade the waters flow; Not to the skies in useless columns tost, Or in proud falls magnificently loft,

255

But clear and artless, pouring thro' the plain
Health to the fick, and folace to the fwain ?
Whose Cause-way parts the vale with fhady rows?
Whose Seats the weary Traveller repose ?

Who taught that heav'n-directed spire to rife?
"The MAN of Ross," each lifping babe replies.
Behold the Market-place with poor o'erspread!
The MAN of Ross divides the weekly bread:

260

VER. 250. The MAN of Ross:] The perfon here celebrated, who with a small Estate actually performed all these good works, and whose true name was almost loft (partly by the title of the Man of Rofs given him by way of eminence, and partly by being buried without so much as an inscription) was called Mr. John Kyrle. He died in the year 1724, aged 90, and lies interred in the chancel of the church of Rofs in Herefordshire.

VARIATIONS.

After ver.250. in the MS.

Trace humble worth beyond Sabrina's shore,
Who fings not him, oh may he fing no more!

266

He feeds
yon Alms-house, neat, but void of state,
Where Age and Want fit fmiling at the gate;
Him portion'd maids, apprentic'd orphans bleft,
The young who labour, and the old who rest.
Is any
fick the MAN of Ross relieves,
Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives.
Is there a variance; enter but his door,

Balk'd are the Courts, and contest is no more.
Despairing Quacks with curses fled the place,
And vile Attorneys, now an useless race.

B. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue
What all so wish, but want the pow'r to do!
Oh fay, what fums that gen'rous hand fupply?
What mines to fwell that boundless charity?

271

275

P. Of Debts and Taxes, Wife and Children clear, This man poffeft five hundred pounds a year. 280 Blush, Grandeur, blufh! proud Courts, withdraw your blaze!

Ye little Stars! hide your diminish'd rays.

B. And what? no monument, inscription, stone ? His race, his form, his name almost unknown ?

P. Who builds a Church to God, and not to Fame, Will never mark the marble with his Name: 285

VER. 281, Blue, Grandeur, blush! proud Courts, withdraw your blaze ! etc.] In this fublime apoftrophe, they are not bid to blush because outstript in virtue, for no fuch contention is fuppofed but for being outbined in their own proper pretenfions to Splendor and Magnificence.

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290

Go, fearch it there, where to be born and die,
Of rich and poor makes all the history ?
Enough, that Virtue fill'd the space between ;
Prov'd by the ends of being, to have been.
When Hopkins dies, a thoufand lights attend
The wretch, who living fav'd a candle's end;
Should'ring God's altar a vile image stands,
Belies his features, nay extends his hands
That live-long wig which Gorgon's felf might own,
Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone.

296

VER. 287. Go, fearch it there,] The parish-regifter. VER. 293. Should'ring God's altar a vile image ftands, Belies bis features, nay extends his bands; ] The description is inimitable. We fee him fhou d'ring the altar like one who impioufly affected to draw off the reverence of God's worshipers,` from the facred table, upon himself, whofe Features too the sculptor bad belied by giving them the traces of humanity : And, what was still a more impudent flattery, had insinuated, by extending bis bands, as if that humanity had béen, fome time or other, put into act.

VER. 296. Eternal buckle takes in Parian flone] The poet ridicules the wretched tafte of carving large perriwigs on bufto's, of which there are feveral vile examples in the tombs at Westminster, and elsewhere.

VARIATIONS.

VER. 287. Thus in the MS.

The Register inrolls him with his Poor,

Tells he was born, and dy'd, and tells no more.
Juft as he ought, he fill'd the Space between;

Then stole to reft, unheeded and unseen.

Behold what bleffing's Wealth to life can lend !
And fee, what comfort it affords our end.

300

In the worft inn's worit room, with mat half hung,
The floors of plaifter, and the walls of dung,
On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with ftraw,
With tape-ty'd curtains, never meant to draw,
The George and Garter dangling from that bed
Where tawdry yellow ftrove with dirty red,
Great Villers liesalas how chang'd from him,
That life of pleafure, and that foul of whim!
Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove,
The bow'r of wanton Shrew bury and love;
Or just as gay, at Council, in a ring

306

Of mimick'd' Statefmen, and their merry King, 310 No Wit to flatter, left of all his store!

No Fool to laugh at, which he valu'd more.

VER. 305. Great Villers lies -] This Lord, yet more fa mous for his vices than his misfortunes, having been poffeffed of about 50,000 7. a year, and paffed through many of the highest posts in the kingdom, died in the year 1687, in a remote inn in Yorkshire, reduced to the utmost misery. VER. 307. Cliveden] A delightful palace, on the banks of the Thames, built by the D. of Buckingham.

VER. 308. Shrewsbury] The Countess of Shrewsbury, a woman abandoned to gallantries. The Earl her husband was killed by the Duke of Buckingham in a duel; and it has been faid, that during the combat the held the Duke's horses in the habit of a page.

VER. 312. No fool to laugh at, which he valu'd more ] That is, he liked difguised flattery better than the more direct and avowed. And no wonder a man of wit fhould have this

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