Sure, if I fpare the minifter, no rules 150 Of honour bind me, not to maul his tools; F. Hold, Sir! for God's fake, where's th' affront to you? Against your worship when had S-k writ? Ur P-ge pour'd forth the torrent of his wit? Or grant the bard whofe diftich all commend 160 [In power a fervant, out of power a friend] To W-le guilty of fome venial fin; What's that to you who ne'er was out nor in? The priest whofe flattery bedropt the crown, How hurt he you? he only ftain'd the gown. And how did, pray, the florid youth offend, Whole fpeech you took, and gave it to a friend? P. Faith it imports not much from whom it came; Whoever borrow'd, could not be to blame, Since the whole houfe did afterwards the fame. Let courtly wits to wits afford fupply, As hog to hog in huts of Westphaly; If one, through nature's bounty or his lord's, Has what the frugal dirty foil affords, From him the next receives it, thick or thin, As pure a mefs almost as it came in ; The bleffed benefit, not there confin'd, Drops to the third, who nuzzles close behind; From tail to mouth, they feed and they carouse: The laft full fairly gives it to the house. F. This filthy fimile, this beastly line Quite turns my ftomach 171 180 P. So does flattery mine: And all your courtly civet-cats can vent, Perfume to you, to me is excrement. But hear my father-Japhet, 'tis agreed, Writ not, and Chartres fcarce could write or read, In all the courts of Pindus guiltlefs quite ; But pens can forge, my friend, that cannot write; And muft no egg in Japhet's face be thrown, Because the deed he forg'd was not my own? 190 Muft never patriot then declaim at gin, Unless, good man! he has been fairly in? No zealous paftor blame a failing spouse, Without a flaring reafon on his brows? And each blafphemer quite efcape the rod, Because the infult's not on man, but God? Afk you what provocation I have had? The ftrong antipathy of good to bad. When truth or virtue an affront endures, Th' affront is mine, my friend, and should be yours. Miue, as a foe profefs'd to false pretence, VARIATIONS. Ver, 185, in the MS. 200 I grant it, Sir; and further 'tis agreed, Mine, as a friend to every worthy mind; P. So proud, I am no flave: Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, 210 Yet touch'd and fham'd by ridicule alone. O facred weapon! left for truth's defence, Sole dread of folly, vice, and infolence! To all but heaven-directed hands deny'd, The mufe may give thee, but the gods must guide: Reverend I touch thee! but with honeft zeal; To rouze the watchmen of the public weal, To virtue's work provoke the tardy hall, And goad the prelate flumbering in his stall. Ye tinfel infects! whom a court maintains, That counts your beauties only by your stains, Spin all your cobwebs o'er the eye of day! The mufe's wing shall brush you all away: All his grace preaches, all his lordship fings, All that makes faints of queens, and gods of kings. All, all but truth, drops dead-born from the press, Like the last gazette, or the last addrefs. 226 When black ambition ftains a public caufe, A monarch's fword when mad vain-glory draws, Not Waller's wreath can hide the nation's scar, Not Boileau turn the feather to a star. 231 Not so, when, diadem'd with rays divine, Touch'd with the flame that breaks from virtue's shrine 240 Her priestless muse forbids the good to die, Yes, the laft pen for freedom let me draw, When truth ftands trembling on the edge of law; Here, last of Britons! let your names be read; Are none, none living? let me praise the dead, And for that cause which made your fathers shine, Fall by the votes of their degenerate line. F. Alas, alas! pray end what you began, And write next winter more Effays on Man. After ver. 227, in the MS. Where's now the ftar that lighted Charles to rife? IMITATIONS OF HORACE. EPISTLE VII. IMITATED IN THE MANNER OF DR. SWIFT. 'Tis true, my lord, I gave my word, "The dog-days are no more the case." My lord, your favours well I know; 'Tis with distinction you beftow; And not to every one that comes, Pray take them, Sir-Enough's a feast: Now this I'll fay, you'll find in me A fafe companion and a free; But if you'd have me always nearA word, pray, in your honour's car. I hope it is your refolution To give me back my conftitution! The sprightly wit, the lively eye, Th' engaging fmile, the gaiety, That laugh'd down many a fummer fun, And kept you up fo oft till one : And all that voluntary vein, As when Belinda rais'd my strain. A weazel once made fhift to flink In at a corn-loft through a chink; But having amply stuff'd his skin, Could not get out as he got in; Which one belonging to the house ('Twas not a man, it was a mouse) Obferving, cry'd, « You 'fcape not fo, "Lean as you came, Sir, you must go." Sir, you may spare your application, I'm no fuch beaft, nor his relation; Nor one that temperance advance, Cramm'd to the throat with Ortolans: Extremely ready to refign All that may make me none of mine. THE LATTER Part of satire VI". O charming noons! and nights divine! Our friend Dan Prior told (you know) Knew what was handsome, and would do't, May yield, God knows, to strong temptation. Behold the place, where if a poet * See the first part in Swift's Poems. But let it (in a word) be faid, Our courtier walks from difh to dish, He stuffs and fwills, and stuffs again. "I'm quite afham'd-'tis mighty rude "To cat fo much but all's fo good. "I have a thousand thanks to give"My lord alone knows how to live." No fooner faid, but from the hall Rush chaplain, butler, dogs and all: "A rat, a rat! clap to the door" The cat comes bouncing on the floor. O for the heart of Homer's mice, Or gods to fave them in a trice! (It was by providence they think, For your damn'd ftucco has no chink). "An't please your honour, quoth the peasant, "This fame defert is not so pleasant: "Give me again my hollow tree, "A cruft of bread, and liberty!" BOOK IV. ODE I. TO VENUS. AGAIN? new tumults in my breast? Ah spare me, Venus! let me, let me reft! I am not now, alas! the man As in the gentle reign of my Queen Anne. Ah, found no more thy foft alarms, Nor circle fober fifty with thy charms! Mother too fierce of dear defires! } Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires. To number five dire direct your doves, There spread round Murray all your bloom ing loves; Noble and young, who ftrikes the heart With every sprightly, every decent part; Equal, the injur'd to defend, To charm the mistress, or to fix the friend. He, with a hundred arts refin'd, Shall stretch thy conquests over half the kind : To him each rival shall submit, Make but his riches equal to his wit. Then shall thy form the marble grace, (Thy Grecian form) and Chloe lend the face; His houfe, embofom'd in the grove, Sacred to focial life and focial love, Shall call the fmiling loves, and young defires There youths and nymphs in confort gay, For me the vernal garlands bloom no more. Adieu fond hope of mutual fire, The ftill-believing, ftill renew'd defire; Adieu the heart-expanding bowl, And all the kind deceivers of the foul! But why? ah tell me, ah too dear! Steals down my cheek th' involuntary tear? Why words fo flowing, thoughts fo free, Stop, or turn nonsense, at one glance of thee? Thee, drefs'd in fancy's airy beam, Abfent I follow through th' extended dream; Now, now I cease, I clasp thy charms, And now you burst (ah cruel!) from my arms; And swiftly shoot along the Mall, Or foftly glide by the canal, Now fhown by Cynthia's filver ray, And now on rolling waters fnatch'd away. PART OF THE NINTH ODE OF THE FOURTH BOOK! LEST you fhould think that verse shall die, Nor penfive Cowley's moral lay— Ere Cæfar was, or Newton nam'd; Then rais'd new empires o'er the earth, And those, new heavens and systems fram’¿. Vain was the chief's, the fage's pride! They had no poet, and they died: MISCELLANIES. On receiving from the Right Honourable THE LADY FRANCES SHIRLEY, A STANDISH AND TWO PENS. EPISTLE то ROBERT EARL OF OXFORD, AND EARL MORTIMER. SUCH were the notes thy once-lov'd poet fung, For him, thou oft haft bid the world attend, Abfent or dead, ftill let a friend be dear, And fure, if aught below the feats divine In vain to deferts thy retreat is made; |