(v) FA PART I. ATE gave the word; the cruel arrow fped; Refign'd he fell; fuperior to the dart, That quench'd its rage in YOURS and BRITAIN'S Heart: You mourn: but BRITAIN, lull'd in reft profound, (Unconscious Britain!) flumbers o'er her wound. Exulting Dulness ey'd the setting Light, And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the Night : Rouz'd at the fignal, Guilt collects her train, And counts the Triumphs of her growing Reign: With inextinguishable rage they burn; And Snake-hung ENVY hiffes o'er his Urn: I I Th' envenom'd Monsters fpit their deadly foam, To blaft the Laurel that furrounds his Tomb. But You, O WARBURTON! whose eye Can fee the greatness of an honeft mind; refin'd Can fee each Virtue and each Grace unite, And view that bright Affemblage treasur❜d there ; hend, And rev'rence HIS and SATIRE's gen'rous End. 25 IN ev'ry Breaft there burns an active flame, The Love of Glory, or the Dread of Shame: 30 The Paffion ONE, tho' various it appear, As brighten'd into Hope, or dimm'd by Fear. And Youth and Manhood feel the heart-born fire: She, Pow'r refiftlefs, rules the wise and great; Bends ev'n reluctant Hermits at her feet; 4 36 Haunts the proud City, and the lowly Shade, 40 45 Thus Heav'n in Pity wakes the friendly Flame, To urge Mankind on Deeds that merit Fame: But Man, vain Man, in folly only wife, Rejects the Manna fent him from the Skies: With rapture hears corrupted Paffion's call, Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall. As each deceitful fhadow tempts his yiew, He for the imag'd Substance quits the true; Eager to catch the vifionary Prize, In quest of Glory plunges deep in Vice; 'Till madly zealous, impotently vain, He forfeits ev'ry Praise he pants to gain. 50 Thus ftill imperious NATURE plies her part; And still her Dictates work in ev'ry heart. Each Pow'r that fov'reign Nature bids enjoy, 55 Man may corrupt, but Man can ne'er destroy. Like mighty rivers, with refiftless force The Paffions rage, obstructed in their course; Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore, And drown those Virtues which they fed before. 65 And fure, the deadlieft Foe to Virtue's flame, Behold yon Wretch, by impious fashion driv'n, Believes and trembles while he fcoffs at Heav'n. To Man a Coward, and a Brave to God. IMITATIONS. VER. 80. To Man a Coward, etc.] Vois tu ce Libertin en public intrepide, Qui preche contre un Dieu que dans fon Ame il croit? 80 Faith, Justice, Heav'n itself now quit their hold, When to false Fame the captiv'd heart is fold: Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato dy'd ; Nought could fubdue his Virtue, but his Pride. Hence chafte Lucretia's Innocence betray'd 85 Fell by that Honour which was meant its aid. Thus Virtue finks beneath unnumber'd woes, When Paffions, born her friends, revolt her foes. Hence SATIRE's pow'r:'Tis her corrective part, To calm the wild diforders of the heart. She points the arduous height where Glory lies, And teaches mad Ambition to be wife: In the dark bofom wakes the fair defire, 90 95 Draws good from ill, a brighter flame from fire; Nor boasts the Muse a vain imagin'd Pow'r, Tho' oft fhe mourn thofe ills fhe cannot cure. 100 IMITATIONS. Mais de fes faux Amis il craint la Raillerie, BOILEAU, Ep. iii. |