B. Quevedo, as he tells his fober tale,
Afk'd, when in hell, to fee the royal ja l;
Approv'd their method in all other things:

But where, good fir, do you confine your kings?
There-faid his guide-the group is full in view.
Indeed?-replied the Don-there are but few.
His black interpreter the charge difdain'd
Few, fellow?-there are all that ever reign'd.
Wit, undistinguishing, is apt to strike

The guilty and not guilty both alike :
I grant the farcasm is too fevere,
And we can readily refute it here;
While Alfred's name, the father of his age,
And the Sixth Edward's grace th' hiftoric 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 laureat pays
His quit-rent ode, his pepper-corn of praise;
And many a dunce whose fingers itch to write,
Adds, as he can, his tributary mite:

A fubject's faults a fubje&t may proclaim,
A monarch's errors are forbidden game!
Thus free from cenfure, over-aw'd by fear,
And prais'd for virtues, that they fcorn to wear,
The fleeting forms of majefty engage

Refpect, while ftalking o'er life's narrow ftage;

Then leave their crimes for hiftory to scan, And afk with bufy fcorn, Was this the man? I pity kings, whom worship waits upon Obfequious from the cradle to the throne; Before whofe infant eyes the flatterer bows, And binds a wreath about their baby brows; Whom education ftiffens into state,

And death awakens from that dream too late. Oh! if fervility with fupple knees,

Whofe trade it is to fmile, to crouch, to please;
If smooth diffimulation, fkilled to grace

A devil's purpofe with an angel's face;
If fmiling peereffes, and fimpering peers,
Encompaffing his throne a few short years;
If the gilt carriage and the pampered steed,
That wants no driving, and disdains the lead;
If guards, mechanically formed in ranks,
Playing, at beat of drum, their martial pranks,
Shouldering and standing as if ftuck to stone,
While condescending majesty looks on;
If monarchy confift in fuch base things,
Sighing, I fay again, I pity kings!

To be fufpected, thwarted, and with ftood,
Even when he labours for his country's good;
To fee a band, called patriot for no caufe,
But that they catch at popular applause,

Careless of all the anxiety he feels,
Hook difappointment on the public wheels;
With all their flippant fluency of tongue,
Moft 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 ftairs,
To which the unwashed artificer repairs,
To indulge his genius after long fatigue,
By diving into cabinet intrigue ;

(For what kings deem a toil, as well they may,
To him is relaxation and mere play)

To win no praise when well-wrought plans prevail,
But to be rudely cenfured 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 called extravagance and wafte;
If these attendants, and if such as these,
Muft follow royalty, then welcome ea ́e;
Howeyer humble and confined the sphere,
Happy the ftate, that has not these to fear.
4.Thus men, whose thoughts contemplative have dwelt
On fituations, that they never felt,

Start up fagacious, covered with the duft
Of dreaming study and pedantic ruft,

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 their's;
Poets, of all men, ever leaft regret
Increafing taxes and the nation's debt.
Could you contrive the payment, and rehearse
The mighty plan, oracular, in verse,

No bard, howe'er majeftic, old or new,
Should claim my fixt attention more than you.
B. Not Brind'ey nor Bridgewater would essay
To turn the courfe of Helicon that way;
Nor would the Nine confent the facred tide
Should purl amidft the traffic of Cheapfide,
Or tinkle in 'Change Alley, to amuse

The leathern ears of ftock-jobbers and jews.

A. Vouchsafe, at least, to pitch the key of rhyme To themes more pertinent, if less fublime.

When minifters and minifterial arts;

Patriots, who love good places at their hearts;
When admirals, extoll'd for standing still,
Or doing nothing with a deal of skill;

Gen'rals, who will not conquer when they may,

Firm friends to peace, to pleasure, and good pay;

When freedom, wounded almoft to despair,
Though discontent alone can find out where;
When themes like thefe employ the poet's tongue,
I hear as mute as if a fyren fung.

Or tell me, if you can, what pow'r maintains
A Britain's fcorn of arbitrary chains?

That were a theme might animate the dead,

And move the lips of poets caft in lead.

B. The cause, tho' worth the fearch, may yet elude Conjecture and remark, however shrewd.

They take perhaps a well-directed aim,
Who feek it in his climate and his frame.
Lib'ral in all things else, yet nature here
With ftern severity deals out the year.
Winter invades the spring, and often pours
A chilling flood on fummer's drooping flow'rs;
Unwelcome vapours quench autumnal beams,
Ungenial blafts attending curl the ftreams:
The peasants urge their harveft, ply the fork
With double toil, and shiver at their work;
Thus with a rigour, for his good defign'd
She rears her fav'rite man of all mankind.
His form robuft and of elastic tone,
Proportion'd well, half muscle and half bone,
Supplies with warm activity and force

A mind well-lodg'd, and mafculine of courfe.