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While yet in Britain honour had applause)
Each parent sprung-A. What fortune, pray?—
P. Their own;

And better got than Bestia's from the throne.
Born to no pride, inheriting no strife,
Nor marrying discord in a noble wife,
Stranger to civil and religious rage,

The good man walk'd innoxious through his age:
No courts he saw, no suits would ever try,
Nor dar'd an oath, nor hazarded a lie.
Unlearned, he knew no schoolman's subtle art,
No language but the language of the heart.
By nature honest, by experience wise,
Healthy by temperance and by exercise;
His life, though long, to sickness past unknown,
His death was instant and without a groan.
O grant me thus to live, and thus to die!
Who sprung from kings shall know less joy than I.
O friend! may each domestic bliss be thine!
Be no unpleasing melancholy mine:
Me, let the tender office long engage
To rock the cradle of reposing age,

With lenient arts extend a mother's breath,
Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death;

married the Earl of Lindsay. His mother was the daughter of William Turner, Esq. of York: she had three brothers, one of whom was killed, another died in the service of King Charles; the eldest following his fortunes, and becoming a general officer in Spain, left her what estate remained after the sequestrations and forfeitures of her family."

6 Pope's father was a non-juror.

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Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,
And keep a while one parent from the sky!
On cares like these if length of days attend,
May Heaven, to bless those days, preserve my

Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene,
And just as rich as when he serv'd a queen.

A. Whether that blessing be denied or given, Thus far was right;-the rest belongs to heaven.




Ludentis speciem dabit, et torquebitur.-HOR.


The occasion of publishing these imitations was the clamour raised on some of my Epistles. An answer from Horace was both more full and of more dignity than any I could have made in my own person; and the example of much greater freedom in so eminent a divine as Dr. Donne, seemed a proof with what indignation and contempt a Christian may treat vice or folly, in ever so low or ever so high a station. Both these authors were acceptable to the princes and ministers under whom they lived. The satires of Dr. Donne I versified at the desire of the Earl of Oxford, while he was lord treasurer, and of the Duke of Shrewsbury, who had been secretary of state; neither of whom looked upon a satire on vicious courts as any reflection on those they served in. And indeed there is not in the world a greater error than that which fools are so apt to fall into, and knaves with good reason to encourage, -the mistaking a satirist for a libeller; whereas to a true satirist nothing is so odious as a libeller, for the same reason as to a man truly virtuous nothing is so hateful as a hypocrite.

Uni æquus virtuti atque ejus amicis.




P. THERE are (I scarce can think it, but am told),
There are to whom my satire seems too bold;
Scarce to wise Peter 2 complaisant enough,
And something said of Chartres much too rough.
The lines are weak, another's pleas'd to say;
Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day.
Timorous by nature, of the rich in awe,
I come to counsel learned in the law:

You'll give me, like a friend both sage and free,
Advice; and (as you use) without a fee.

F. I'd write no more.

P. Not write? but then I think, And for my soul I cannot sleep a wink. I nod in company, I wake at night; Fools rush into my head, and so I write.

F. You could not do a worse thing for your Why, if the night seem tedious-take a wife: Or rather, truly, if your point be rest,


Lettuce and cowslip wine: probatum est.
But talk with Celsus, Celsus will advise
Hartshorn, or something that shall close your eyes.

1 Baron of the Exchequer, and afterwards Master of the Rolls.

2 See note 2, vol. ii. p. 121. 4 Lord Hervey.

8 See note 4, vol. ii. p. 75.

Or if you needs must write, write Cæsar's praise; You'll gain at least a knighthood or the bays.

P. What? like Sir Richard,5 rumbling, rough, and fierce,

With arms, and George, and Brunswick, crowd the verse;

Rend with tremendous sound your ears asunder, With gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss, and


Or nobly wild, with Budgell's fire and force,
Paint angels trembling round his falling horse?
F. Then all your Muse's softer art display,
Let Carolina smooth the tuneful lay;
Lull with Amelia's liquid name the Nine,
And sweetly flow through all the royal line.

P. Alas! few verses touch their nicer ear; They scarce can bear their laureate twice a year; And justly Cæsar scorns the poet's lays;

It is to history he trusts for praise.

F. Better be Cibber, I'll maintain it still, Than ridicule all taste, blaspheme quadrille, Abuse the city's best good men in metre, And laugh at peers that put their trust in Peter. E'en those you touch not, hate you.

P. What should ail 'em?

F. A hundred smart in Timon and in Balaam :

The fewer still you name, you wound the more; Bond is but one, but Harpax is a score.

5 Sir Richard Blackmore.

6 At the battle of Oudenard.

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