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No gainful trade their induftry can 'fcape, • They fing, they dance, clean shoes, or cure a clap: • All sciences a fasting Monfieur knows, · And bid him go to hell, to hell he goes.

« Ah! what avails it, that, from flav'ry far, • I drew the breath of life in English air ; • Was early taught a Briton's right to prize, • And lisp the tales of Henry's victories ; • If the gull’d conqueror receives the chain, • And Aattery subdues when arms are vain?

• Studious to please, and ready to submit, • The fupple Gaul was born a parafite : • Still to his int’reft true, where'er he goes, • Wit, brav'ry, worth, his lavish tongue beftow's; • In ev'ry face a thousand graces shine,

From ev'ry tongue ftows harmony divine." • These arts in vain our rugged natives try, • Strain out with fault'ring diffidence a lye, ! And gain a kick for aukward flattery.

• Besides, with justice, this discerning age • Admires their wondrous talents for the stage: ! Well may they venture on the mimick's art, • Who play from morn to light a borrow'd part; • Practis'd their master's notions to embrace, • Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face; . With ev'ry wild absurdity comply, « And view each object with another's eye ; « To shake with laughter ere the jeft they hear, ; То pour at will the counterfeited tear, • And as their patron hints the cold or heat, • To Make in dog-days, in December sweat. • How, when competitors like these contend, ! Can furly Virtue hope to fix a friend? • Slaves that with serious impudence beguile, ! And lye without a blush, without a smile ;


« Exalt

• Exalt each trifle, ev'ry vice adore,
• Your taste in smuff, 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 foon your ill-plac'd confidence repay, • Commence your lords, and govern-or betray.

By numbers here, from Mạme or çensure free, · All crimes are safe, but hated poverty: * This, only this, the rigid law pursues; • This, only this, provokes the snarling Muse. • The sober trader, at a tatter'd cloak, • Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke; • With brikker air the filken courtiers gaze, • And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways. • Of all the griefs that harrass the diftrefs'd; • Sure the most bitter is a fcornful jeft; • 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?

No secret island in the boundless main; • No peaceful desart yet unclaim'd by Spain ?

Quick let us rifę, the happy seats explore, • And bear Oppreffion'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 merchandize, and smiles are sold, • Where, won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd, groom

retails the favours of his lord. • But hark! th' affrighted crowd's tumultuous cries • Roll through the streets, and thunder to the skies:

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• Rais'd from some pleasing dream of wealth and pow'r,
. Some pompous palace, or some blissful bow'r,
• Aghaft you start, and scarce, with aching fight,
• 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?
• In vain your mournful narrative disclose,
• While all neglect, and most insult your woes.

• Should Heav'n's juft bolts Orgilio's wealth confound,
. And spread his flaming palace on the ground,
• Swift o'er the land the dismal rumour flies,
. And publick mournings pacify the skies ;
• The laureat tribe in servile verse relate,
• How virtue wars with persecuting fate;
• With well-feign’d gratitude the penfion'd band
• Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land.
• See! while he builds, the gaudy vallals come,
• And croud 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 thining plate,
• Orgilio fees the golden pile aspire,
• And hopes from angry Heav'n another fire.

« Couldst thou resign the park and play content, . For the fair banks of Severn or of Trent; • There mightft thou find fome 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; • There prune thy walks, support thy drooping flow'rs, • Direct thy rivulets, and twine thy bow'rs; • And, while thy beds a cheap repad afford, Despise the dainties of a venal lord.

« There


There ev'ry bush with Nature's mufick rings,
There ev'ry breeze bears health upon it's wings
On all thy hours security shall smile,
And bless thy 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 jeft.

Yet e’en these heroes, mischievously gay, • Lords of the street, and terrors of the way; • Flash'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 pafs'd, your doors you close,

And hope the balmy blessings of repose : • Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair, "The midnight murd'rer bursts the faithlefs bar; • Invades the sacred hour of filent rest, . And plants, unseen, a dagger in your breast.

• Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die; . With hemp the gallows and the feet fupply.

Propose your schemes, ye senatorian band, "Whose ways and means support the finking land;

Lest ropes be wanting in the tempting spring, To rig another convoy for the king.

A single gaol, in Alfred's golden reign,

Could half the nation's criminals contain ; • Fair Justice then, without constraint ador'd, • Held high the iteady scale, but deep'd the sword; • No spies were paid, no special juries known ; * Bless' age! but, ah! how diff'rent from our own!

• Much could I add, but see the boat at hand, "The tide retiring calls me from the land.



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• Farewel!_When youth, and health, and fortune spent, Thou fly'st for refuge to the wilds of Kent ; • And tir'd, like me, with follies and with crimes,

In angry numbers warn'it succeeding times; • Then shall thy friend, nor thou refuse his aid, • Still foe to vice, forsake his Cambrian fhade

j In virtue's caufe once more exert his rage, « Thy satire point, and animate thy page.'

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F aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song,
May hope, chafte Eve, to soothe thy modeft ear,

Like thy own folemn springs,

Thy springs and dying gales,
O nymph reservd, while now the bright-hair'd sun
Sits on yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts

With brede etherial wove,

O'erhang his wavy bed ;
Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-ey'd bat,
With short shrill shrieks Aits by on leathera wing,

Or where the beetle winds

His small but sullen horn,
As oft he rises midst the twilight path,
Against the pilgrim borne in heedlefs hum;

Now teach me, maid compos'd,

To breathe fome foften'd strain,
Whole numbers, stealing through thy dark’ning vale,
May not unseemly with it's stillness fuit,

As musing flow, I hail
Thy genial lov'd return!


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