a

Point back to minds ingenuous, actions fair, 245
Till the sons blush at what their fathers were:
Ere yet 'twas beggary the great to trust,
Ere yet 'twas quite a folly to be just;
When low-born sharpers only dar'd a lie,
Or falsify'd the card, or cogg'd the die; 250
Ere lewdness the stain'd garb of Honour wore,
Or Chastity was carted for the whore ;
Vice flutter'd, in the plumes of Freedom drest,
Or public spirit was the public jest.
Be ever in a just expression bold,

255
Yet ne'er degrade fair Satire to a scold :
Let no unworthy mien her form debase,
Bet let her smile and let her frown with grace;
In mirth be temp’rate, temp'rate in her spleen,
Nor, while she preaches modesty, obscene. 260
Deep let her wound, not rankle to a sore,
Nor call his Lordship

her Grace a The Muse's charms resistless then assail When wrapp'd in Irony's transparent veil: Her beauties half-conceal'd, the more surprise, 265 And keener lustre sparkles in her eyes. Then be your line with sharp encomiums grac'd; Style Clodius honourable, Bufa chaste.

Dart not on folly an indignant eye: Whoe'er discharg'd artillery on a fly?

270

Deride not Vice; absurd the thought and vain
To bind the tiger in so weak a chain.
Nay more; when flagrant crimes your laughter move,
The knave exults: to smile is to approve.
The Muse's labours then success shall crown

275 When Folly feels her smile, and Vice her frown.

Know next what measures to each theme belong, And suit your thoughts and nu bers to your song: On wing proportion'd to your quarry rise, And stoop to earth, or soar among the skies. 280 Thus when a modish folly you rehearse, Free the expression, simple be the verse: In artless numbers paint th' ambitious peer That mounts the box, and shines a charioteer: In strains familiar sing the midnight toil 285 Of camps and senates disciplin'd by Hoyle; Patriots and chiefs, whose deep design invades And carries off the captive king....of Spades ! Let Satire here in milder vigour shine, And gaily graceful sport along the line; 290 Bid courtly Fashion quit her thin pretence, And smile each affectation into sense.

Not so when Virtue, by her guards betray'd, Spurn'd from her throne, implores the Muses' aid; When crimes, which erst in kindred darkness lay, Rise frontless, and insult the eye of day; 296

Indignant Hymen veils his hallow'd fires,
And white-rob’d Chastity with tears retires :
When rank Adult'ry on the genial bed,
Hot from Cocytus, rears her baleful head; 300
When private faith and public trust are sold,
And traitors barter liberty for gold;
When fell Corruption, dark and deep, like Fate,
Saps the foundation of a sinking state;
When giant Vice and Irreligion rise

305
On mountain'd falsehoods to invade the skies;
Then warmer numbers glow thro' Satire's page,
And all her smiles are darken'd into rage ;
On eagle wings she gains Parnassus' height,
Not lofty Epic soars a nobler flight :

310 Then keener indignation fires her eye; Then flash her lightnings and her thunders fly: Wide and more wide her flaming bolts are hurld, Till all her wrath involves the guilty world.

Yet Satire oft assumes a gentler mien, 315 And beams on Virtue's friends a smile serene : She wounds reluctant, pours her balm with joy, Glad to commend where worth attracts her eye: But chief when virtue, learning, arts, decline, She joys to see unconquer'd Merit shine; 320 Where bursting glorious with departing ray, True genius gilds the close of Britain's day:

With joy she sees the stream of Roman art
From Murray's tongue flow purer to the heart;
Sees Yorke to fame e'er yet to manhood known, 325
And just to ev'ry virtue but his own;
Hears unstain'd Cam with gen'rous pride proclaim
A sage's, critic's, and a poet's name;
Behold where Widcombe's happy hills ascend,
Each orphan'd art and virtue find a friend;

330 To Hagley's honour'd shade directs her view, And culls each flower to form a wreath for you.

But tread with cautious step this dang’rous grouud, Beset with faithless precipices round: Truth be your guide; disdain Ambition's call; 335 And if you fall with Truth you greatly fall. 'Tis Virtue's native lustre that must shine; The poet can but set it in his line: And who, unmov'd with laughter, can behold A sordid pebble meanly grac'd with gold?

340 Let real merit then adorn.your lays, For shame attends on prostituted praise ; And all your wit, your most distinguish'd art, But makes us grieve you want an honest heart.

Nor think the Muse by Satire's law confin'd; 345 She yields description of the noblest kind. Inferior art the landscape may design, And paint the purple ev'ning in the line :

350

Her daring thought essays a higher plan;
Her hand delineates passion, pictures man.
And great the toil the latent soul to trace,
To paint the heart, and catch internal grace;
By turns bid Vice or Virtue strike our eyes,
Now bid a Wolsey or a Cromwell rise;
Now with a touch more sacred and refin'd,
Call forth a Chesterfield's or Lonsdale's mind.
Here sweet or strong may ev'ry colour flow,
Here let the pencil warm, the canvas glow;
Of light and shade provoke the noble strife,
And wake each striking feature into life.

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