Might teach me like himself to be content,
And let their folly be their punishment,
Might, like himself, teach his adopted son
'Gainst all the world to quote a Warburton.

110

115

Fool that I was! could I so much deceive My soul with lying hopes? could I believe That he, the servant of his Maker sworn, The servant of his Saviour, would be torn From their embrace, and leave that dear employ, The cure of souls, his duty and his joy, For toys like mine, and waste his precious time, On which so much depended, for a rhyme? Should he forsake the task he undertook, Desert his flock, and break his past'ral crook? Should he (forbid it Heav'n!) so high in place, So rich in knowledge, quit the work of grace, And, idly wand'ring o'er the Muses' hill, Let the salvation of mankind stand still?

120

325

Far, far be that from thee—yes, far from thee Be such revolt from grace, and far from me The will to think it-guilt is in the thoughtNot so, not so, hath Warburton been taught, 130 Not so learn'd Christ-Recall that day well known When (to maintain God's honour-and his own) He call'd blasphemers forth-Methinks I now See stern Rebuke enthroned on his brow, And arm'd with tenfold terrors-from his tongue, Where fiery zeal and Christian fury hung,

136

Methinks I hear the deep-ton'd thunder's roll,
And chill with horror ev'ry sinner's soul-
In vain they strive to fly-flight cannot save,
And Potter trembles even in his grave-
With all the conscious pride of innocence
Methinks I hear him in his own defence,
Bear witness to himself, whilst all men knew,
By gospel rules, his witness to be true.

140

O glorious man! thy zeal I must commend, 145 Tho' it depriv'd me of my dearest friend. The real motives of thy anger known, Wilkes must the justice of that anger own, And, could thy bosom have been bar'd to view, Pity'd himself, in turn had pity'd you.

150

155

Bred to the law you wisely took the gown,
Which I like Demas foolishly laid down ;
Hence double strength our Holy Mother drew,
Me she got rid of, and made prize of you.
I, like an idle truant fond of play,
Doting on toys and throwing gems away,
Grasping at shadows let the substance slip
But you, my Lord, renounc'd attorneyship
With better purpose and more noble aim,
And wisely play'd a more substantial game: · 160
Nor did Law mourn, bless'd in her younger son,
For Mansfield does what Glo'ster would have done.
Doctor! Dean! Bishop! Gloster! and my Lord!
If happ'ly these high titles may accord

29

165

170

With thy meek spirit, if the barren sound Of pride delights thee, to the topmast round Of Fortune's ladder got, despise not one For want of smooth hypocrisy undone, Who, far below, turn's up his wond'ring eye, And without envy sees thee plac'd so high: Let not thy brain, (as brains less potent might) Dizzy, confounded, giddy, with the height, Turn round and lose distinction, lose her skill And wonted pow'rs of knowing good from ill, Of sifting truth from falsehood, friends from foes; Let Glo'ster well remember how he rose, 176 Nor turn his back on men who made him great; Let him not, gorg'd with pow'r and drunk with Forgot what once he was, tho' now so high, [state, How low, how mean, and full as poor, as I. 180

*

Catera desunt.

D

It is presumed the sudden death of the. Author will sufficiently apologize for the dedication remaining unfinished.

THE ROSCIAD.

Roscius deceas'd, each high-aspiring playr
Push'd all his int'rest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends 5
Humbly to court the favour of his friends,
For pity's sake tells undeserv'd mishaps,
And their applause to gain recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome
To win the mob a suppliant's form assume,
In pompous strain fight o'er th' extinguish'd war,
And shew where honour bled in ev'ry scar.

13

But tho' bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way,
And they will best succeed who best can pay :
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes
Must add to force of merit force of bribes.

What can an actor give? in ev'ry age
Cash has been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of ev'ry play'r,
Appear as often as their image there;
They can't, like candidate for other seat,

15

20

Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat. Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon, And of Roast Beef they only know the tune: 26