« הקודםהמשך »
Who, with a courage of unshaken root,
But let eternal infamy pursue
power: Then grace the bony phantom in their stead With the king's shoulder-knot and gay cockade; Clothe the twin brethren in each other's dress, The same their occupation and success.
A. 'Tis your belief the world was made for man; Kings do but reason on the selfsame plan:
Maintaining yours, you cannot theirs condemn, Who think, or seem to think, man made for them.
B. Seldom, alas! the power of logic reigns With much sufficiency in royal brains; Such reasoning falls like an inverted cone, Wanting its proper base to stand upon. Man made for kings! those optics are but dim, That tell you so—say, rather, they for him. That were indeed a king-ennobling thought, Could they, or would they reason as they ought. The diadem, with mighty projects lined To catch renown by ruining mankind, Is worth, with all its gold and glittering store, Just what the toy will sell for, and no more. Oh! bright occasions of dispensing good, How seldom used, how little understood! To pour in Virtue's lap her just reward; Keep Vice restrain’d behind a double guard; To quell the faction, that affronts the throne, By silent Magnanimity alone; To nurse with tender care the thriving arts; Watch every beam Philosophy imparts; To give Religion her unbridled scope, Nor judge by statute a believer's hope; With close fidelity and love unfeign'd To keep the matrimonial bond unstain’d; Covetous only of a virtuous praise; His life a
son to the land he sways; To touch the sword with conscientious awe, Nor draw it but when duty bids him draw; To sheath it in the peace-restoring close With joy beyond what victory bestows; Bless'd country, where these kingly glories shine! Bless’d England, if this happiness be thine!
A. Guard what you say; the patriotic tribe Will sneer, and charge you with a bribe.-B. A The worth of his three kingdoms I defy, [bribe? To lure me to the baseness of a lie: And, of all lies (be that one poet's boast) The lie that flatters I abhor the most. Those arts be theirs who hate his gentle reign, But he that loves him has no need to feign.
A. Your smooth eulogium to one crown adSeems to imply a censure on the rest. [dress'd
B. Quevedo, as he tells his sober tale, Ask’d, when in hell, to see the royal jail; Approved their method in all other things; But where, good sir, do you confine your kings? There-said his guide—the group is full in view. Indeed?-replied the don—there are but few. His black interpreter the charge disdain’dFew, fellow !- there are all that ever reign’d. Wit, undistinguishing, is apt to strike The guilty and not guilty both alike. I grant the sarcasm is too severe, And we can readily refute it here; While Alfred's name, the father of his age, And the Sixth Edward's grace
the historic page. A. Kings then at last have but the lot of all: By their own conduct they must stand or fall. B. True. While they live the courtly laureate
pays His quit-rent ode, his peppercorn of praise; And many a dunce, whose fingers itch to write, Adds, as he can, his tributary mite; A subject's faults a subject may proclaim, A monarch's errors are forbidden game! Thus, free from censure, overawed by fear, And praised for virtues that they scorn to wear,
The fleeting forms of majesty engage
I pity kings, whom Worship waits upon
To be suspected, thwarted, and withstood, E'en when he labours for his country's good, To see a band, call’d patriot for no cause, But that they catch at popular applause, Careless of all the’ anxiety he feels, Hook disappointment on the public wheels; With all their flippant fluency of tongue, Most confident, when palpably most wrong; If this be kingly, then farewell for me All kingship; and may I be poor and free!
To be the Table Talk of clubs up stairs, To which the unwash'd artificer repairs, To' indulge his genius after long fatigue, By diving into cabinet intrigue (For what kings deem a toil, as well they may, T'o him is relaxation and mere play); To win no praise when well wrought plans prevail, But to be rudely censured when they fail; To doubt the love his favourites may pretend, And in reality to find no friend; If he indulge a cultivated taste, His galleries with the works of art well graced, To hear it callid extravagance and waste; If these attendants, and if such as these Must follow royalty, then welcome ease; However humbled and confined the sphere, Happy the state that has not these to fear.
A. Thus men, whose thoughts contemplative On situations that they never felt,
[have dwelt Start up sagacious, cover'd with the dust Of dreaming study and pedantic rust, And prate and preach about what others prove, As if the world and they were hand and glove. Leave kingly backs to cope with kingly cares; They have their weight to carry, subjects theirs; Poets, of all men, ever least regret Increasing taxes and the nation's debt. Could
you contrive the payment, and rehearse The mighty plan, oracular, in verse, No bard, howe'er majestic, old or new, Should claim my fix'd attention more than you.
B. Not Brindley nor Bridgewater would assay To turn the course of Helicon that way; Nor would the Nine consent the sacred tide Should purl amidst the traffic of Cheapside,