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* Studious to please, and ready to submit, The supple Gaul was born a parasite: Still to his int’rest true, where'er he goes, Wit, brav'ry, worth, his lavish tongue bestows; In ev'ry face a thousand graces shine, From ev’ry tongue flows harmony divine. ” These arts in vain our rugged natives try, Strain out with faltring diffidence a lie, And get a kick for aukward flattery.
Besides, with justice, this discerning age Admires their wondrous talents for the stage:
Slaves that with serious inpudence beguile,
And lie without a blush, without a smile;
Exalt each trifle, ev'ry vice adore,
Your taste in snuff, your judgment in a whore;
Can Balbo's eloquence applaud, and swear
He gropes his breeches with a monarch's air.
For arts like these preferr'd, admir’d, caress'd,
They first invade your table, then your breast;
* Explore your secrets with insidious art, -
Watch the weak hour, and ransack all the heart;
Then soon your ill-plac'd confidence repay,
Commence your lords, and govern or betray.
* By numbers here from shame or censure free,
All crimes are safe but hated poverty.
This, only this, the rigid law pursues,
This, only this, provokes the snarling Muse.
Thé sober trader at a tatter'd cloak
Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke;
With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze,
And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways.
* Of all the griefs that harass the distress'd,
Sure a most bitter is a scornful jest;
Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart,
Than when a blockhead's insult points the dart.
* Has Heaven reserv'd, in pity to the poor, No pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore?
* to No
No secret island in the boundless main?
No peaceful desert yet unclaim d” by Spain P
Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore,
And bear Oppression's insolence no more.
This mournful truth is ev'ry where confess'd,
* SLow RISEs worth, BY POVERTY DEPREss’D :
But here more slow, where all are slaves to gold,
Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold :
Where won by bribes, by flatteries implord,
The groom retails the favours of his lord.
But hark' th' affrighted crowd's tumultuous cries
Roll through the streets, and thunder to the skies:
Rais'd from some pleasing dream of wealth and pow'r,
Some pompous palace, or some-blissful bow'r,
Aghast you start, and scarce with aching sight
Sustain th' approaching fire's tremendous light;
Swift from pursuing horrors take your way,
And leave your little ALL to flames a prey;
* Then thro' the world a wretched vagrant roam,
For where can starving merit find a home 2
In vain your mournful narrative disclose,
While all neglect, and most insult your woes,
*Should Heav'n's justbolts Orglio's wealthconfound,
And spread his flaming palace on the ground,
Swift o'er the land the dismal rumour flies,
And public mournings pacify the skies;
The laureat tribe in venal verse relate,
How virtue wars with persecuting fate;
* With well-feign'd gratitude the pensioned band
Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land.
See while he builds the gaudy vassals come,
And crowd with sudden wealth the rising dome;
The price of boroughs and of souls restore;
And raise his treasures higher than before:
Now bless'd with all the baubles of the great,
The polish'd marble and the shining plate,
* Orgilio sees the golden pile aspire,
And hopes from angry Heav'n another fire.
* Could'st thou resign the park and play content,
For the fair banks of Severn or of Trent;
There might'st thou find some elegant retreat,
Some hireling senator's deserted seat;
And stretch thy prospects o'er the smiling land,
For less than rent the dungeons of the Strand;
* Si magna Asturici cecidit domus, horrida mater,
Pullati proceres. +
*—— Jam accurrit, qui marmora donet,
Conferat impensas: hic, &c.
Hic modium argenti,
* — Meliora, ac plura reponit
Persicus orborum lautissimus.--
* Si potes avelli Circensibus, optima Sora',
Aut Fabrateriae domus, aut Fusinone paratur,
Quanti nunc tenebras umum conducis in annum.
Vive bidentis amans & culti willicus horti,
Unde epulum possis centum dare Pythagoraeis,
There prune thywalks, support thy drooping flowers,
Direct thy rivulets, and twine thy bowers;
And, while thy grounds a cheap repast afford,
Despise the dainties of a venal lord :
There ev'ry bush with Nature's music rings,
There ev'ry breeze bears health upon its wings;
On all thy hours security shall smile,
And bless thine evening walk and morning toil.
* Prepare for death if here at night you rOam,
And sign your will before you sup from home.
* Some fiery fop, with new commission vain,
Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man ;
Some frolick drunkard, reeling from a feast,
Provokes a broil, and stabs you for a jest.
* Yet ev'n these heroes, mischievously gay,
Lords of the street, and terrors of the way;
Flush'd as they are with folly, youth, and wine,
Their prudent insults to the poor confine;
Afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach,
And shun the shining train, and golden coach.
*In vain, these dangers past, your doors you close,
And hope the balmy blessings of repose;
Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair,
The midnight murd’rer bursts the faithless bar;
Invades the sacred hour of silent rest,
And leaves, unseen, a dagger in your breast,