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Some fiery fop, with new commission vain, Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man; Some frolic drunkard, reeling from a feast, Provokes a broil, and stabs you for a jest.

“Yet e'en these heroes, mischievously gay, Lords of the street, and terrors of the way; Flush'd as they are with folly, youth, and

wine, Their prudent insults to the poor confine ; Afar they mark the flambeau's bright ap

proach, And shun the shining train and golden coach. "In vain, these dangers pass'd, your doors

you close, And hope the balmy blessings of repose : Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair, The midnight murderer bursts the faithless

Where wav'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous

pride, To chase the dreary paths, without a guide, As treach’rous phantoms in the mist delude, Shuns fancied ills, or chases airy good ; How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice, Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant

voice; How nations sink by darling schemes op

press’d, When vengeance listens to the fool's request. Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart, Each gift of nature and each grace of art: With fatal heat impetuous courage glows, With fatal sweetness elocution flows, Impeachment stops the speaker's powerful

breath, And restless fire precipitates on death. But, scarce observed, the knowing and the

bold Fall in the general massacre of gold; Wide wasting pest! that rages unconfined, And crowds with crimes the records of man


Invades the sacred hour of silent rest, And plants, unseen, a dagger in your breast. "Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn

die, With hemp the gallows and the fleet supply. Propose your schemes, ye senatorian band, Whose ways and means support the sinking





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

"A single jail, in Alfred's golden reign,
Could half the nation's criminals contain ;
Fair Justice then, without constraint adored,
Held high the steady scale, but sheathed the
No spies were paid, no special juries known ;
Bless'd age! but ah! how different from our

own! "Much could I add,—but see the boat at The tide retiring, calls me from the land : Farewell ! —When youth, and health, and for

tune spent, Thou fliest for refuge to the wilds of Kent; And, tired like me with follies and with crimes, In angry numbers warn'st succeeding times ; Then shall thy friend, nor thou refuse his

aid, Still foe to vice, forsake his Cambrian shade ; In virtue's cause once more exert his rage, Thy satire point, and animate thy page.'

Samuel Johnson.—Born 1709, Died 1784.

For gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws, For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws; Wealth heap'd on wealth, nor truth nor safety

buys, The dangers gather as the treasures rise. Let history tell where rival kings com

mand, And dubious title shakes the madded land, When statntes glean the refuse of the sword, How much more safe the vassal than the

lord ; Low skulks the hind beneath the rage of

power, And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tower, Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers

sound, Though confiscation's vultures hover round.

The needy traveller, serene and gay, Walks the wild heath and sings his toil

away. Does envy seize thee? crush th' upbraiding

joy, Increase his riches, and his peace destroy. Now fears in dire vicissitude invade, The rustling brake alarms, and quiv'ring

shade, Nor light nor darkness bring his pain relief, One shows the plunder, and one hides the

thief. Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails, And gain and grandeur load the tainted

gales; Few know the toiling statesman's fear or

care, The insidious rival and the gaping heir.

Once more, Democritus, arise on earth, With cheerful wisdom and instructive mirth, See motley life in modern trappings dress’d, And feed with varied fools the eternal jest: Thou who couldst laugh, where want en

chain'd caprice, Toil crush'd conceit, and man was of a piece ;

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Still to new heights his restless wishes tower, Claim leads to claim, and power advances

power : Till conquest unresisted ceased to please, And rights submitted left him none to seize : At length his soy’reign frowns—the train of

state Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to

hate. Where'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye, His suppliants scorn him, and his followers


Where wealth unloved without a mourner

died ; And scarce a sycophant was fed by pride ; Where ne'er was known the form of mock

debate, Or seen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state ; Where change of fav’rites made no change of

laws, And senates heard before they judged a

cause ; How wouldst thou shake at Britain's modish

tribe, Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing

gibe ! Attentive truth and nature to descry, And pierce each scene with philosophic eye. To thee were solemn toys, or empty show, The robes of pleasure, and the veils of woe : All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain, Whose joys are causeless, or whose griefs are

vain. Such was the scorn that fill'd the sage's

mind, Renew'd at ev'ry glance on human kind ; How just that scorn ere yet thy voice declare, Search ev'ry state, and canvass ev'ry prayer. Unnumber'd suppliants crowd Preferment's

gate, Athirst for wealth, and burning to be great; Delusive Fortune hears th' incessant call, They mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall. On ev'ry stage the foes of peace attend, Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their

end. Love ends with hope, the sinking statesman's

door Pours in the morning worshipper no more; For growing names the weekly scribbler lies, To growing wealth the dedicator flies ; From ev'ry room descends the painted face, That hung the bright pallalium of the place; And, smoked in kitchens, or in auctions sold, To better features yields the frame of gold ; For now no more we trace in ev'ry line Horoic worth, benevolence divine : The form distorted justifies the fall, And detestation rids the indignant wall.

But will not Britain hear the last appeal, Sign her foe's doom, or guard her favourite's

zeal ? Through Freedom's sons no more remon.

strance rings, Degrading nobles and controlling kings ; Our supple tribes repress their patriot

throats, And ask no questions but the price of votes; With weekly libels and septennial ale, Their wish is full to riot and to rail.

In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand, Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand : To him the church, the realm, their powers

consign, Through him the rays of regal bounty shine, Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour

flows, His sinile alone security bestows :

Now drops at once the pride of awful state,
The golden canopy, the glittring plate,
The regal palace, the luxurious board,
The liv’ried army, and the menial lord.
With age, with cares, with maladies op.

He seeks the refuge of monastic rest.
Grief aids disease, remember'd folly stings,
And his last sighs reproach the faith of

kings. Speak thon whose thoughts at humble

peace repine, Shall Wolsey's wealth with Wolsey's end be

thine ? Or livest thou now, with safer pride content, The wisest justice on the banks of Trent? For, why did Wolsey, near the steeps of fate, On weak foundations raise the enormous

weight ? Why, but to sink beneath misfortune's blow, With louder ruin to the gulfs below ? What gave great Villiers to the assassin's

knife, And fix'd disease on Harley's closing life? What murder'd Wentworth, and what exiled

Hyde, By kings protected, and to kings allied ? What but their wish indulged in courts to

shine, And power too great to keep or to resign ? When first the college rolls receive his

name, The young enthusiast quits his ease for

fame; Resistless burns the fever of renown, Caught from the strong contagion of the

gown : O’er Bodley's dome his future labours spread, And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his

head. Are these thy views ? Proceed, illustrious

youth, And Virtue guard thee to the throne of

Yet should thy soul

the gen'rous heat Till captive Science yields her last retreat ; Should reason guide thee with her brightest

ray And pour on misty doubt resistless day; Should no false kindness lure to loose delight, Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright; Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain, And Sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain;

Should Beanty blunt on fops her fatal dart,
Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart;
Should no disease thy torpid veins invade,
Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade ;
Yet hope not life from grief or danger free,
Nor think the doom of man reversed for

thee: Deign on the passing world to turn thine

eyes, And pause awhile from letters to be wise ; There mark what ills the scholar's life assail, Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. See nations, slowly wise and meanly just, To buried merit raise the tardy bust. If dreams yet flatter, once again attend, Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end. Nor deem, when Learning her last prize

bestows, The glitt'ring eminence exempt from foes ; See, when the vulgar 'scapes, despised or

awed, Rebellion's vengeful talons seize on Laud. From meaner minds though smaller fines

content, The plunder'd palace, or sequester'd rent, Mark'd out by dangerous parts, he meets the

And fatal Learning leads him to the block :
Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep,
But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and

The festal blazes, the triumphal show,
The ravish'd standard, and the captive foe,
The senate's thanks, the Gazette's pompons

With force resistless o'er the brave prevail.
Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirl'd,
For such the steady Roman shook the world ;
For such in distant lands the Britons shine,
And stain with blood the Danube or the

Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms

in vain; “ Think nothing gain'd," he cries, “till

nought remain, On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, And all be mine beneath the polar sky.” The march begins in military state, And nations on his eye suspended wait ; Stern Famine guards the solitary coast, And Winter barricades the realms of Frost; He comes, nor want nor cold his course

delay; Hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa's day: The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, And shows his miseries in distant lands; Condemn’d a needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not chance at length her error mend ? Did no subverted empire mark his end ? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound ? Or hostile millions press him to the ground ? His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand ; He left the name, at which the world grew

pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale. All times their scenes of pompous woes

afford, From Persia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord. In gay hostility and barb'rous pride, With half mankind embattled at his side, Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain prey, And starves exhausted regions in his way ; Attendant Flatt'ry counts his myriads o'er, Till counted myriads soothe his pride no

more ;


This power has praise, that virtue scarce can


Till fame supplies the universal charm.
Yet reason frowns on war's unequal game,
Where wasted nations raise a single name;
And mortgaged states their grandaires'

wreaths regret, From age to age in everlasting debt ; Wreaths which at last the dear-bought right

convey To rust on medals, or on stones decay. On what foundation stands the warrior's

pride, How just his hores, le Swedish Charles

A frame of adamant, a soul of fire,
No dangers fright him. ad no labours tire ;
O'er love, o'er fear, exteads his wide domain,
Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain ;
No joys to him pacific sceptres yield,
War sounds the trum, lio rushes to the
Behold surrounding kings their power3 com-

And one capitulate, and one resign ;

Fresh praise is tried till madness fires his

mind, The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind ; New powers are claim'd, new powers are still

bestow'd, Till rude resistance lops the spreading god; The daring Greeks deride the martial show, And heap their valleys with the gaudy foe; Thinsulted sea with humbler thought he

gains, A single skiff to speed his flight remains ; Th' encumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded

coast Through purple billows and a floating host.

The bo: H Bavarian, in a luckless hour, Tries the dread summits of Cæsarean power, With unexpected legions bursts away, And sees defenceless realms receive his sway : Short sway! fair Austria spreads her mournful The queen, the beauty, sets the world in

arms; From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of

praise ; The fierce Croatian, and the wild Hussar, With all the sons of ravage, crowd the war ; The battled prince, in honour's fatt'ring

bloom Of hasty greatness, finds the fatal doom ;



His foes' derision and his subjects' blame, And steals to death from anguish and from

shame. “Enlarge my life with multitude of days !In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant

prays : Hides from himself its state, and shuns to

know, That life protracted is protracted woe. Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, And shuts up all the passages of joy: In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons

pour, The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flower ; With listless eyes the dotard views the store, He views, and wonders that they please no

more; Now pall the tasteless meats, and joyless

wines, And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns. Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing

strain, Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain : No sounds, alas ! would touch the impervious

New sorrow rises as the day returns,
A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns.
Now kindred Merit fills the sable bier,
Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear;
Year chases year, decay pursues decay,
Still drops some joy from with’ring life

away ;
New forms arise, and different views engage,
Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage,
Till pitying Nature signs the last release,
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace.
But few there are whom hours like these

await, Who set unclouded in the gulfs of Fate. From Lydia's monarch should the search

descend, By Solon caution'd to regard his end, In life's last scene what prodigies surprise, Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise ! From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of

dotage flow, And Swift expires a driv'ler and a show.

The teeming mother, anxious for her race, Begs for each birth the fortune of a face; Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty

spring; And Sedley cursed the form that pleased a

king. Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes, Whom pleasure keeps too busy to be wise ; Whom joys with soft varieties invite, By day the frolic, and the dance by night; Who frown with vanity, who smile with art, And ask the latest fashion of the heart; What care, what rules, your heedless charms


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shall save,

Though dancing mountains witness'd Orpheus

near ; Nor lute nor lyre his feeble powers attend, Nor sweeter music of a virtuons friend; But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue, Perversely grave, or positively wrong. The still returning tale, and ling'ring jest, Perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd

guest, While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring

sneer, And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear : The watchful guests still hint the last

offence; The daughter's petulance, the son's expense, Improve his heady rage with treach'rous

skill, And mould his passions till they make his

will. Unnumber:d maladies his joints invade, Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade ; But unextinguish'd av'rice still remains, And dreaded losses aggravate his pains ; He turns, with anxious heart and crippled

hands, His bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands; Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes, Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies.

But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime Bless with an age exempt from scorn

crime ; An age that melts with unperceived decay, And glides in modest innocence away ; Whose peaceful day benevolence endears, Whose night congratulating conscience cheers; The general fav’rite as the general friend : Such age there is, and who shall wish its

end ? Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune

flings, To press the weary minutes' flagging wings;

Each nymph your rival, and each youth your

slave ? Against your fame with fondness hate com.

bines, The rival batters, and the lover mines. With distant voice neglected Virtue calls, Less heard and less, the faint remonstrance

falls; Tired with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry

reign, And Pride and Prudence take her seat in

vain. In crowd at once, where none the pass

defend, The harmless freedom, and the private

friend. The guardians yield, by force superior plied : To Int’rest, Prudence; and to Flatt’ry,

Pride. Here beauty falls, betray'd, despised, dis

tress'd, And hissing Infamy proclaims the rest. Where then shall Hope and Fear their

objects find ? Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant

mind ?
Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate,
Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?
Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise,
No cries invoke the mercies of the skies?


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His virtues walk'd their narrow round,

Nor made a pause, nor left a void ; And sure th' Eternal Master found

The single talent well employ'd. The busy day, the peaceful night,

Unfelt, uncounted, glided by ; His frame was firm, his powers were bright,

Though now his eightieth year was nigh.
Then with no throbs of fiery pain,

No cold gradations of decay,
Death broke at once the vital chain,
And forced his soul the nearest way.

Samuel Johnson.Born 1709, Died 1784.


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There first the wren thy myrtles shed
On gentlest Otway's infant head,

To him thy cell was shown ;
And while he sung the female heart,
With youth's soft notes unspoil'd by art,

Thy turtles mix'd their own.

Come, Pity, come, by Fancy's aid,
E'en now my thoughts, relenting maid,

Thy temple's pride design :
Its southern site, its truth complete,
Shall raise a wild enthusiast heat

In all who view the shrine.

Yet still he fills affection's eye,

Obscurely wise and coarsely kind;
Nor, letter'd arrogance, deny

Thy praise to merit unrefined.
When fainting Nature call'd for aid,

And hovering Death prepared the blow. His vigorous remedy display'd

The power of art without the show. In Misery's darkest cavern known,

His useful care was ever nigh,
Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his grcan,

And lonely want retired to die.
No summons mock'd by chill delay,

No petty gain disdain'd by pride ;
The modest wants of every day

The toil of every day supplied.

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There Picture's toil shall well relate
How Chance, or hard involving Fate,

O'er mortal bliss prevail :
The buskin'd Muse shall near her stand,
And sighing prompt her tender hand,

With each disastrous tale.

There let me oft, retired by day, In dreams of passion melt away,

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