Of idle superstition, that ensnare

Th' ambitious soul to wickedness and woe! Curse on thy virtue, which hath overthrown My elevated hopes! and may despair Descend in pestilence on all mankind!

ANGUS.

Thy curse just Heav'n retorts upon thyself!
To separate dungeons lead the regicides. -
[Exit guard with the prisoners.
From thirst of rule what dire disasters flow!
How flames that guilt ambition taught to glow!
Wish gains on wish, desire surmounts desire!
Hope fans the blaze, and envy feeds the fire:
From crime to crime aspires the madd'ning soul!
Nor laws, nor oaths, nor fears its rage control;
'Till Heav'n at length awakes, supremely just,
And levels all its tow'ring schemes in dust!

PROLOGUE TO THE REPRISAL,

SPOKEN BY MR. HAVARD.

AN ancient sage, when Death approach'd his bed,
Consign'd to Pluto his devoted head;
And, that no fiend might hiss, or prove uncivil,
With vows and pray'rs, he fairly brib'd the devil:
Yet neither vows nor pray'rs, nor rich oblation,
Cou'd always save the sinner-from damnation.

Thus authors, tottering on the brink of fate,
The critic's rage with prologues deprecate;
Yet oft the trembling bard implores in vain,
The wit profess'd turns out a dunce in grain:
No plea can then avert the dreadful sentence,
He must be damn'd-in spite of all repentance.
Here Justice seems from her straight line to vary,
No guilt attends a fact involuntary;
This maxim the whole cruel charge destroys,
No poet sure was ever dull by choice.

So pleads our culprit in his own defence,
You cannot prove his dullness is-prepense.
He means to please he owns no other view,
And now presents you with-a sea ragout.
A dish-howe'er you relish his endeavours,
Replete with a variety of flavours.

A stout Hibernian, and ferocious Scot,
Together boil in our enchanted pot;
To taint these viands with the true fumet,
He shreds a musty, vain, French-martinet.
This stale ingredient might our porridge mar
Without some acid juice of English tar.
To rouse the appetite the drum shall rattle,
And the dessert shall be a bloodless battle.

What heart will fail to glow, what eye to brighten,
When Britain's wrath arous'd begins to lighten!
Her thunders roll-her fearless sons advance,
And her red ensigns wave o'er the pale flow'rs of
France.

Such game our fathers play'd in days of yore, When Edward's banners fann'd the Gallic shore; When Howard's arm Eliza's vengeance hurl'd, And Drake diffus'd her fame around the world: Still shall that god-like flame your bosoms fire, The gen'rous son shall emulate the sire; Her ancient splendour England shall maintain, O'er distant realms extend her genial reign, And rise--th' unrival'd empress of the main.

Och! the devil himself could not stand such a fall.

In beholding your charms, I can see them no more,
In beholding your charms, I can see them no more,
If you're dead do but own it;
Then you'll hear me bemoan it;
For in loud lamentations your fate I'll deplore.
Devil curse this occasion with tumults and strife!
Devil curse this occasion with tumults and strife!
O! the month of November,
She'll have cause to remember,
As a black letter day all the days of her life.

With a rope I could catch the dear creature I've
lost!
[lost!

With a rope I could catch the dear creature I've But, without a dismission,

I'd lose my commission,

And be hang'd with disgrace for deserting my post.

SONG FROM THE SAME.

FROM the man whom I love, tho' my heart I dis-
I will freely describe the wretch I despise, [guise,
And if he has sense but to balance a straw,
He will sure take the hint from the picture I draw..
A wit without sense, without fancy a beau,
Like a parrot he chatters, and struts like a crow;
A peacock in pride, in grimace a baboon,
In courage a hind, in conceit a gascoon,

As a vulture rapacious, in falsehood a fox,
Inconstant as waves, and unfeeling as rocks;
As a tiger ferocious, perverse as a hog,
In mischief an ape, and in fawning a dog.

In a word, to sum up all his talents together,
His heart is of lead, and his brain is of feather:
Yet, if he has sense but to balance a straw,
He will sure take the hint from the picture I draw.

SONG FROM THE SAME,

LET the nymph still avoid, and be deaf to the swain Who in transports of passion affects to complain; For his rage, not his love, in that frenzy is shown; And the blast that blows loudest is soon o'erblown.

But the shepherd whom Cupid has pierc'd to the heart

Will submissive adore, and rejoice in the smart; Or in plaintive soft murmurs, his bosom-felt woe Like the smooth gliding current of rivers will flow.

And Grafton, tow'ring Atlas of the throne,
So well rewards a genius like his own:
Granville and Bath + illustrious, need I name
For sober dignity and spotless fame;
Or Pitt, th' unshaken Abdiel, yet unsung:

Who, while he totters on the brink of woe,
Dares, ere he falls, attempt th' avenging blow?
A steady blow! his languid soul to feast;
And rid his country of one curse at least!

POET.

Th' advice is good; the question only, whether
These names and virtues ever dwelt together?
But what of that? the more the bard shail claim,
Who can create as well as cherish fame.
But one thing more,-how loud must I repeat,
To rouse th' ingag'd attention of the great,
Amus'd, perhaps, with C-'s prolific bum,
Or rapt amidst the transports of a drum 7;
While the grim porter watches ev'ry door,
Stern foe to tradesmen, poets, and the poor.
Th' Hesperian dragon not more fierce and fell;
Nor the gaunt, growling janitor of Hell.
Ev'n Atticus (so wills the voice of fate)
Inshrines in clouded majesty, his state;
Nor to th' adoring crowd vouchsafes regard,
Tho' priests adore, and ev'ry priest a bard.
Shall I then follow with the venal tribe,
And on the threshold the base mongrel bribe?
Bibe him, to feast my mute-imploring eye,
With some proud lord, who smiles a gracious lie!
A lie to captivate my heedless youth,
Degrade my talents, and debauch my truth;
White food with hope, revolves my joyless day,
And friends, and fame, and fortune fleet away;
'Till scandal, indigence, and scorn, my lot,
The dreary jail entombs me, where I rot!
Is there, ye varnish'd ruffians of the state!
Not one among the millions whom ye cheat,

3 This noble peer, remarkable for sublimity of parts, by virtue of his office, lord chamberlain, conferred the laureat on Colly Cibber, esq. a delectable bard, whose character has already employed, together with his own, the greatest pens

of the age.

4 Two noblemen famous in their day, for nothing more than their fortitude in bearing the scorn and reproach of their country.

5 Abdiel, according to Milton, was the only seraph that preserved his integrity in the midst of corruption

Among the innumerable false, unmov'd,
Unshaken, unseduc'd, unterrify'd-

6 This alludes to a phenomenon, not more strange than true. The person here meant, having actually laid upwards of forty eggs, as several physicians and fellows of the Royal Society can attest; one of whom, we hear, has undertaken the incubation, and will, no doubt, favour the world with an account of his success. Some virtuosi affirm, that such productions must be the effect of a certain intercourse of organs not fit to be named.

FRIEND.

POET.

Let th' assassin bleed:
My fearless verse shall justify the deed.
'Tis he, who lures th' unpractis'd mind astray,
Then leaves the wretch to misery a prey;
Perverts the race of virtue just begun,
And stabs the public in her ruin'd son.
FRIEND.

Heav'ns, how you rail! the man's consum'd by spite!
If Lockman's fate attends you, when you write;
Let prudence more propitious arts inspire:
The lower still you crawl, you'll climb the higher.
Go then, with ev'ry supple virtue stor❜d,
And thrive, the favour'd valet of my lord.
Is that denied? a boon more humble crave;
And minister to him who serves a slave: .
Be sure you fasten on promotion's scale;
Ev'n if you seize some footman by the tail:
Th' ascent is easy, and the prospect clear,
From the smirch'd scullion to th' embroider'd peer,
Th' ambitious drudge preferr'd, postillion rides,
Advanc'd again, the chair benighted guides;
Here doom'd, if nature strung bis sinewy frame,
The slave, perhaps, of some insatiate dame;
But if exempted from th' Herculean toil,
A fairer field awaits him, rich with spoil;
There shall he shine, with mingling honours bright,
His master's pathic, pimp, and parasite;
Then strut a captain, if his wish be war,
Or if the sweets of peace his soul allure,
And grasp, in hope, a truncheon and a star:
Bask at his ease in some warm sinecure;
His fate in consul, clerk, or agent, vary,
Compos'd of falsehood, ignorance, and pride,
Or cross the seas, an envoy's secretary:
And won from kennels to th' impure embrace,
A prostrate sycophant shall rise a L-d9:
Accomplish'd Warren triumph o'er disgrace 1o

POET.

Eternal infamy his name surround,
Who planted first that vice on British ground!
A vice that 'spite of sense and nature reigns,
And poisons genial love, and manhood stains!
Pollio! the pride of science and its shame,
The Muse weeps o'er thee, while she brands thy
Abhorrent views that prostituted groom, [name!
Th' indecent grotto and polluted doom!
There only may the spurious passion glow,
Obscene with crimes avow'd, of every dye,
Where not one laurel decks the caitiff's brow,
Corruption, lust, oppression, perjury:

8 To be little read, and less approved.

9 This child of dirt, (to use a great author's velling adulation, has arrived at the power of insulting his betters every day.

Let Chardin with a chaplet round his head",
The taste of Maro and Anacreon plead;

Sir, Flaccus knew to live as well as write,
And kept, like me, two boys array'd in white."
Worthy to feel that appetence of fame
Which rivals Horace only in his shame!
Let Isis wail in murmurs, as she runs "2,
Her tempting fathers and her yielding sons;
While Dullness screens 13 the failings of the church,
Nor leaves one sliding rabbi in the lurch:
Far other raptures let the breast contain,
Where heav'n-born taste and emulation reign.

FRIEND.

Shall not a thousand virtues, then, atone
In thy strict censure for the breach of one?
If Bubo keeps a catamite or whore,
His bounty feeds the beggar at his door:
And though no mortal credits Curio's word,
A score of lacquies fatten at his board:
To Christian meekness sacrifice thy spleen,
And strive thy neighbour's weaknesses to screen.

POET.

Scorn'd be the bard, and wither'd all his fame,
Who wounds a brother weeping o'er his shame!
But if an impious wretch with frantic pride
Throws honour, truth, and decency aside,
If, nor by reason aw'd, nor check'd by fears,
He counts his glories from the stains he bears;
Th' indignant Muse to virtue's aid shall rise,
And fix the brand of infamy on vice.
What if, arous'd at his imperious call,
An hundred footsteps echo through his hall;
And, on high columns rear'd, his lofty dome
Proclaims th' united art of Greece and Rome:
What tho' whole hecatombs his crew regale,
And each dependant slumbers o'er his ale;
While the remains through mouths unnumber'd
Indulge the beggar and the dogs at last:
Say, friend, is it benevolence of soul,
Or pompous vanity, that prompts the whole?
These sons of sloth, who by profusion thrive,
His pride inveigled from the public hive:
And numbers pine in solitary woe,
Who furnish'd out this phantasy of show.
When silent misery assail'd his eyes,
Did e'er his throbbing bosom sympathize?
Or his extensive charity pervade

To those who languish in the barren shade,
Where oft, by want and modesty suppress'd,
The bootless talent warms the lonely breast?
No! petrify'd by dullness and disdain,
Beyond the feeling of another's pain,

[past,

11 This genial knight wore at his own banquet a garland of flowers, in imitation of the ancients; and kept two rosy boys robed in white, for the entertainment of his guests.

12 In allusion to the unnatural orgies said to be solemnized on the banks of this river; particularly at one place, where a much greater sanctity of morals and taste might be expected.

13 This is a decent and parental office, in which Dullness is employed; namely, to conceal the failings of her children: and exactly conformable to that instance of filial piety, which we meet with in the son of Noah, who went backward, to cover the nakedness of his father, when he lay exposed, from the scoffs and insults of a malicious world.

A thousand yet remain
That bloom with honours, or that teem with gain:
These arts, are they beneath-beyond thy care!
Devote thy studies to th' auspicious fair:
Of truth divested, let thy tongue supply
The hinted slander, and the whisper'd lie;
All merit mock, all qualities depress,
Save those that grace th' excelling patroness;
Trophies to her, on others' follies raise,
And heard with joy, by defamation praise:
To this collect each faculty of face,
And ev'ry feat perform of sly grimace;
Let the grave sneer sarcastic speak thee shrewd,
The smutty joke ridiculously lewd;

And the loud laugh, thro' all its changes rung,
Applaud th' abortive sallies of her tongue:
Enroll'd a member in the sacred list,
Soon shalt thou sharp in company, at whist;
Her midnight rites and revels regulate14,
Priest of her love, and demon of her hate.

POET.

But say, what recompense for all this waste
Of honour, truth, attention, time, and taste?
To shine confess'd, ber zany and her tool,
And fall by what I rose, low ridicule?
Again shall Handel raise his laurel'd brow,
Again shall harmony with rapture glow!
The spells dissolve, the combination breaks,
And Punch no longer Frasi's rival squeaks.
Lo, Russel 15 falls a sacrifice to whim,
And starts amaz'd in Newgate from his dream:

14 These are mysteries performed, like those of the Dea Bona, by females only; consequently it' cannot be expected that we should here explain them: we have, notwithstanding, found means to learn some anecdotes concerning them, which we shall reserve for another opportunity.

15 A famous mimic and singer. The person here meant, by the qualifications above described, had insinuated himself into the confidence of certain ladies of quality, who engaged him to set up a puppet-show, in opposition to the oratorios of Handel, against whom they were unreasonably prejudiced. But the town not seconding the capricious undertaking, they deserted their manager, whom they had promised to support, and let him sink under the expense they had entailed upon him: he was accordingly thrown into prison, where his disappointment got the better of his reason, and he remained in all the ecstasy of despair; till at last, his generous patronesses, after much solicitation, were prevailed upon to collect five pounds, on the payment of which he was admitted into Bedlam, where he continued bereft of his understanding, and died in the ut❤ most misery.

With trembling hands implores their promis'd aid;
And sees their favour like a vision fade!
Is this, ye faithless Syrens!-this the joy
To which, your smiles th' unwary wretch decoy?
Naked and shackled, on the pavement prone,
His mangled flesh devouring from the bone;
Rage in his heart, distraction in his eye!
Behold, inhuman has! your minion Le!
Behold his gay career to ruin run,
By you seduc'd, abandon'd and undone!
Rather in garret pent, secure from harm,
My Muse with murders shall the town alarm;
Or plunge in polities with patriot zeal,
And snarl like Gutherie for the public weal,
Than crawl an insect, in a beldame's power,
And dread the crush of caprice ev'ry hour!

FRIEND.

'Tis well;-enjoy that petulance of style,
And, like the envious adder, lick the file ':
What tho' success will not attend on all!
Who bravely dares, must sometimes risk a fall.
Behold the bounteous board of Fortune spread;
Each weakness, vice and folly yields thee bread;
Wouldst thou with prudent condescension strive
On the long-settled terms of life to thrive.

РОЕТ.

What! join the crew that pilfer one another, Betray my friend, and persecut my brother: Turn usurer o'er cent per cent to brood,

Or quack, to feed like fleas, on human blood?
FRIEND.

Or if thy soul can brook the gilded curse,
Some changeling heiress steal-

POET.

Why not a purse? Two things I dread, my conscience and the law.

FRIEND.

How? dread a mumbling bear without a claw?
Nor this, nor that is standard right or wrong,
'Till minted by the mercenary tongue;
And what is conscience, but a fiend of strife,
That chills the joys, and damps the schemes of life?
The wayward child of vanity and fear,
The peevish dam of poverty and care;
Unnumber'd woes en ender in the breast
That entertains the rude, ungrateful guest.

POET.

Hail, sacred pow'r! my glory and my guide!
Fair source of mental peace, what e'er betide;
Safe in thy shelter, let disaster roll
Eternal hurricanes around my soul;
My soul serene, amidst the storms shall reign,
And smile to see their fury burst in vain!

FRIEND,

Too coy to flatter, and too proud to serve 18, Thine be the joyless dignity to starve.

16 These are the dreams and fictions of Grubstreet, with which the good people of this metropolis are daily alarmed and entertained.

17 This alludes to the fable of the viper and file, applicable to all the unsuccessful efforts of malice and envy.

18 This, surely, occasioned Churchill's

Too proud to flatter, too sincere to lie.

POET.

No;-thanks to discord, war shall be my friend;
And moral rage, heroic courage lend
To pierce the gleaming squadron of the foe,
And win renown by some distinguish'd blow.

FRIEND.

Renown! ay, do-unkennel the whole pack
Of military cowards on thy back. [stood 19,
What difference, say, 'twixt him who bravely
And him who sought the bosom of the wood?
Envenom'd calumny the first shall brand,
The last enjoy a ribbon and command.

POET.

If such be life, its wretches I deplore, And long to quit th' unhospitable shore.

REPROOF: A SATIRE.

POET, FRIEND.

POET.

HOWE'ER I turn, or wheresoe'er 1 tread,
This giddy world still rattles round my head!
I pant for silence ev'n in this retreat-
Good Heav'n! what demon thunders at the gate?

FRIEND.

In vain you strive, in this sequester'd nook, To shroud you from an injur'd friend's rebuke,

POET.

An injur'd friend!-who challenges the name?
If you, what title justifies the claim?
Did e'er your heart o'er my affliction grieve,
Your int'rest prop me, or your purse relieve?
Or could my wants my soul so far subdue,
That in distress she crawl'd for aid to you?
But let us grant th' indulgence e'er so strong;
Display without reserve th' imagin'd wrong:
Among your kindred have I kindled strife,
Deflow'r'd your daughter, or debauch'd your wife;
Traduc'd your credit, bubbled you at game;
Or soil'd with infamous reproach your name?

FRIEND.

No; but your cynic vanity (you'll own) Expos'd my private counsel to the town.

РОЕТ.

Such fair advice 'twere pity sure to lose; I grant I printed it for public use.

FRIEND.

Yes, season'd with your own remarks between, Inflam'd with so much virulence of spleen, That the mild town (to give the devil his due) Ascrib'd the whole performance to a Jew.

19 and 20 This last line relates to the behaviour of a general on a certain occasion, who discovered an extreme passion for the cool shade during the heat of the day: the Hanoverian general, in the battle of Dettingen.