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In the mean while, that you may live to adorn the celebrated and difficult title you wear; that you may be, like him, the defender of your country
TRUTH IN RHYME. in days of public danger; and in times of peace, what is perhaps less frequently found, the friend | ASTREA, eldest born of Jove, and patron of those useful and ornamental arts, by Whom all the gods revere and love, which human nature is exalted, and human society was sent, while man deserv'd their care, rendered more happy: this, my lord, is respect- On Earth to dwell, and govern there: fully the wish of
Till finding Earth by Heaven unaw'd,
Till sick of violence and fraud,
Abandoning the guilty crew, most obcdicnt
Back to her native sky she flew,
She long has ceas'd on Earth to shine;
For there—her eye with wonder fix'd !
That wonder too with pleasure mix'd !
She now beheld, in blooming youth,
The patron of all worth and truth;
Not in a cottage, all-unknown;
She found him seated on a throne !
What fables paint, what poets sing,
But as a sight, so nobly new,
Deserv'd, she thought, a nearer view; Imprimatur,
To where, by silver-streaming Thames, meo periculo,
Ascends the palace of St. James,
Swift through surrounding shades of night, CHESTERFIELD, The goddess shot her beamy flight.
She stopp'd; and the revealing ray
Blaz'd round her favourite, where he lay, ADVERTISEMENT.
In sweet repose: o'er all his face,
Repose shed softer bloom and grace! The following extract from his majesty's speech But fearful lest her sun-bright glare to both honses of parliament, which, by every Too soon might wake him into care, man in his dominions, would be thought the noblest (For splendid toils and weary state introduction to a poem of the first merit, is pecu- Are every monarch's envy'd fate) liarly suitable to introduce this. However unequal | The stream of circling rays to shroud, these verses may be to the subject they attempt to She drew an interposing cloud. adorn, this singular advantage will be readily al- In all the silence of surprise, lowed them. It will, at the same time, be the She gazed him o'er! She saw arise, fullest and best explanation of the author's mean- For gods can read the human breast, ing, on a theme so interesting and uncommon. Her own ideas there imprest! The words are these :
And that his plan to bless mankind, “ March 3, 1761.
The plan now brightening in his mind,
May story's whitest page adorn,
At once the fair ethereal maid, the crown in my family, the commissions of the Daughter of Memory and Jove, judges have been made during their good beha- Descending quits her laureld grove : viour. But notwithstanding that wise provision, Loose to the gale her azure robe; their offices have determined upon the demise of Borne, in her left, a starry globe, the crown, or at the expiration of six months after- Where each superior son of Fame wards, in every instance of that nature which has will find inscrib'd his deathless name, happened.
Her right sustains th' immortal lyre, I look upon the independency and uprightness of To praise due merit, or inspire. the judges of the land as essential to the impartial « Behold”-Astrea thus beganadministration of justice; as one of the best secu- “ The friend of virtue and of man! rities of the rights and liberties of my loving sub- Calm reason see, in early youth ! jects; and as most conducive to the honour of the See, in a prince, the soul of truth !
And I come now to recommend this in- With love of justice, tender sense teresting object to the consideration of parliament; For suffering worth and innocence ! in order that such further provision, as shall be who means to build his happy reign most expedient, may be made, for securing the On this blest maxim, wise and plainjudges in the enjoyment of their offices, during their Though plain, how seldom understood! good behaviour, notwithstanding any such demise.” That, to be great, he must be good.
BY S. J. ESQ.
His breast is open to your eye;'
AUTHOR OF THE PRECEDING POEM. This virtue dares our search abide.
“ The sacred fountains to secure Of Justice, undisturbd and pure From hopes or fears, from fraud or force,
« Welt-now, I think, we shall be wiser," To ruffle or to stain their course;
Cries Grub, who reads the Advertiser, That these may flow serene and free,
“ Here's Truth in Rhyme-a glorious treat! The Law must independent be:
It surely must abuse the great ; Her ministers, as in my sight,
Perhaps the king ;-without dispute And mine alone, dispensing right;
"Twill fall most devilish hard on Bute." Of piercing eye, of judgment clear,
Thrice he reviews his parting shilling, As honour, just, as truth, sincere,
At last resolves, though much unwilling, With temper, firm, with spirit, sage,
To break all rules imbib'd in youth, The Mansfields of each future age.
And give it up for Rhyme and Truth : “ And this prime blessing is to spring
He reads—he frowns—“ Why, what's the matter? From youth in purple! from a king !
Damn it-here's neither sense, nor satyrWho, true to his imperial trust,
Here, take it, boy, there's nothing in't: His greatness founds in being just;
Such fellows !-to pretend to print !" Prepares, like yon ascending Sun,
Blame not, good cit, the poet's rhymes, His glorious race with joy to run,
The fault's not his, but in the times : And, where his gracious eye appears,'
The times, in which a monarch reigns, To bless the world he lights and cheers!
Form'd to make happy Britain's plains ; “ Such worth with equal voice to sing,
To stop in their destructive course, Urania, strike thy boldest string ;
Domestic frenzy, foreign force, And Truth, whose voice alone is praise,
To bid war, faction, party cease, That here inspires, shall guide the lays.
And bless the weary'd world with peace. Begin ! awake his gentle ear
The times in which is seen, strange sight! With sounds that monarchs rarely hear.
A court both virtuous and polite, He merits, let him know our love,
Where merit best can recommend And you record, what I approve."
And science finds a constant friend. She ended : and the heaven-born
How then should Satyr dare to sport With soft surprise, his form survey'd.
With such a king, and such a court, She saw what chastity of thought
While Truth looks on with rigid eye,
And tells her, every line 's a lie?
“ Nor pomp of song, nor paint of art, Such truths should to the world impart.
U PON READING SOME VERSES, WRITTEN BY A YOUNG LADY And when on these our verse we raise,
AT A BOARDING SCHOOL, SEPTEMBER, 1760. The plainest is the noblest praise. “Yet more; a virtuous doubt remains:
Apollo lately sent to know, Would such a prince permit my strains ?
If he had any sons below: Deserving, but still shunning fame,
For, by the trash he long had seen The homage due he might disclaim.
In male and female magazine, A prince, who rules, to save, mankind,
A hundred quires not worth a groat, His praise would, in their virtue, find;
The race must be extinct, he thought. Would deem their strict regard to laws,
His messenger to court repairs ; Their faith and worth, his best applause.
Walks softly with the crowd up stairs : Then, Britons, your just tribute bring,
But when he had his errand told, In deeds, to emulate your king;
The courtiers sneer'd, both young and old. In virtues, to redeem your age
Augustus knit his royal brow, From venal views and party-rage.
And bade him let Apollo know it, On his example safely rest;
That from his infancy till now,
He lov'd nor poetry nor poet.
When it grew fashionably dark: “My part is last; if Britain yet
There beauties, boobies, strumpets, rakes, A lover boasts of truth and wit,
Talk much of commerce, whist, and stakes; To him these grateful lays to send,
Who tips the wink, who drops the card : The monarch's and the Muse's friend;
But not one word of verse or bard. And whose fair name, in sacred rhymes,
The stage, Apollo's old domain, My voice may give to latest times."
Where his true sons were wont to reign, She said; and, after thinking o'er
His courier now past frowning by: The men in place near half a score,
Ye modern Durfeys, tell us why. To strike at once all scandal mute,
Slow, to the city last he went: The goddess found, and fix'd on Bute.
There, all was prose, of cent per cent.
There, alley-omnium, script, and bonus,
Por is there, now, one table spread, (Latin, for which a Muse would stone us,
Where Sense and Science may be fed ? Yet honest Gideon's classic style)
Where, with a smile on every face, Made our poor Nuncio stare and smile.
Invited Merit takes his place? And now the clock had struck eleven:
These thoughts put Phæbus in the spleert, The messenger must back to Heaven ;
(For gods, like men, can feel chagrin) But, just as he bis wings had ty'd,
And left him on the point to shroud | Look'd up Queen-Square, the north-east side. His head in one eternal cloud; A blooming creature there be found,
When, lo! his all-discerning eye With pen and ink, and books around,
Chanc'd one remaining friend to spy, ) Alone, and writing by a taper:
Just crept abroad, as is his way, He read unseen, then stole her paper.
To bask him in the noon-tide ray. It much amus'd him on his way;
This Phæbus noting, call'd aloud And reaching Heaven by break of day,
To every interposing cloud; He show'd Apollo what he stole.
And bade their gather'd mists ascend, The god perus’d, and lik'd the whole :
That he might warm his good old friend: Then, calling for his pocket-book,
Then, as his chariot roll'd along, Some right celestial vellum took ;
Tun'd to his lyre this grateful song. And what he with a sun-beam there
“With talents, such as God has given Writ down, the Muse thus copies fair:
To common mortals, six in seven ; “ If I no men my sons must call,
Who yet have titles, ribbons, pay, Here's one fair daughter worth them all:
And govern whom they should obey ; Mark then the sacred words that follow,
With no more frailties than are found Sophia's mine"-so sign'd
APOLLO, In thousand others, count them round;
With much good will, instead of parts,
Who smiles if you have smartly spoke ;
Or nods applause to his own joke;
This bearded child, this grey-hair'd boy, WRITTEN FOR, AND GIVEN IN PRINT TO, A BEGGAR.
Still plays with life, as with a toy; O MERCY, Heaven's first attribute,
Still keeps amusement full in view: Whose care embraces man and brute !
Wise? Now and then- but oftener new; Behold me, where I shivering stand ;
His coach, this hour, at Watson's door; Bid gentle Pity stretch her hand
The next, in waiting on a whore. To want and age, disease and pain,
Whene'er the welcome tidings ran That all in one sad object reign.
Of monster strange, or stranger man, Still feeling bad, still fearing worse,
A Selkirke from his desert-isle, Existence is to me a curse:
Or Alligator from the Nile; Yet, how to close this weary eye?
He saw the monster in its shrine, By my own hand I dare not die:
And had the man, next day, to dine. And Death, the friend of human woes,
Or was it an hermaphrodite ? Who brings the last and sound repose ;
You found him in a two-fold hurry; Death does at dreadful distance keep,
Neglecting, for this he-she-sight,
The single charms of Fanny Murray:
The full-wigg'd sons of pills and potions;
The bags, of maggot and new notions;
The sage, of microscopic eye,
Who reads him lectures on a fly;
And poets, squirting epigrams :
With some few lords of those that think, WRITTEN IN M.DCC. LVII.
And dip, at times, their pen in ink : Apollo, from the southern sky,
Nay, ladies too, of diverse fame, O'er London lately glanc'd his eye.
Who are, and are not, of the game. Just such a glance our courtiers throw
For he has look'd the world around, At suitors whom they shun to know :
And pleasure, in each quarter, found. Or have you mark'd the averted mien,
Now young, now old, now grave, now gay, The chest erect, the freezing look,
He sinks from life by soft decay; Of Bumbo, when a bard is seen
And sees at hand, without affright, Charg'd with his dedication-book?
Th' inevitable hour of night.” But gods are never in the wrong:
But here, some pillar of the state, What then displeas'd the power of song?
Whose life is one long dull debate, The case was this: where noble arts
Some pedant of the sable gown, Once flourish'd, as our fathers tell us,
Who spares no failings, but his own, He now can find, for men of parts,
Set up at once their deep-mouth'd hollow: None but rich blockheads and mere fellows; “ Is this a subject for Apollo ! Since drums, and dice, and dissipation
What! can the god of wit and verse Have chas'd all taste from all the nation.
Such trifles in our ears rehearse ?"
" Know, puppies, this man's easy life,
With wit enliven senseless rocks; Serene from cares, unvex'd with strife,
Draw repartee from wooden blocks ; Was oft employ'd in doing good;
Make buzzards senators of note, A science you ne'er understood:
And rooks harangue, that geese may vote. And charity, ye sons of Pride,
These moral fictions, first design'd A multitude of faults will hide.
To mend and mortify mankind, , I, at his board, more sense have found,
Old Esop, as our children know, Than at a hundred dinners round.
Taught twice ten hundred years ago. Taste, learning, mirth, my western eye
His fly, upon the chariot wheel, Could often, there, collected spy:
Could all a statesman's merit feel; And I have gone well pleas'd to bed,
And, to its own importance just, Revolving what was sung or said.
Exclaim, with Bufo, “ What a dust !” “ And he, who entertain'd them all
His horse-dung, when the flood ran high, With much good liquor, strong and small;
In Colon's air and accent cry, With food in plenty, and a welcome,
While tumbling down the turbid stream, Which would become my lord of Melcombe', “ Lord love us, how we apples swim !" Whose soups and sauces duly season'd,
But further instances to cite, Whose wit well tim'd, and sense well reason'd,
Would tire the hearers' patience quite. Give Burgundy a brighter stain,
No: what their numbers and their worth, And add new flavour to Champagne
How these admire, while those hold forth, Shall this man to the grave descend,
From Hyde-Park on to Clerkenwell, Unown'd, unhonour'd as my friend ?
Let clubs, let coffee-houses tell; No: by my deity I swear,
Where England, through the world renown'd, Nor shall the vow be lost in air;
In all its wisdom may be found : While you, and millions such as you,
While I, for ornament and use, Are sunk for ever from my view,
An orator of wood produce. And lost in kindred-darkness lie,
Why should the gentle reader stare? This good old man shall never die:
Are wooden orators so rare? No matter wbere I place his name,
Saint Stephen's Chapel, Rufus' Hall,
That hears them in the pleader bawl,
When good Romaine harangues his best,
And tells his staring congregation,
That Newton's guilt was worse than treason
For using, what God gave bim, reason.
“ A pox of all this prefacing !” Smart Balbus cries:
come, name the thing
That such there are we all agree:
What is this wood ?” Why-Tyburn-tree. The design of the Marine Society is in itself so Here then this reverend oak harangue;
laudable, and has been pursued so successfully Who makes men do so, ere they hang.
Patibulum loquitur. the flatness of a direct compliment, I have “ Each thing whatever, when aggriev'd, through the whole poem loaded their institution of right complains, to be reliev'd. with such reproaches as will show, I hope, in When rogues so rais'd the price of wheat,
the most striking manner, its real utility. That few folks could afford to eat, By authentic accounts, it appears, that from the (Just as, when doctors' fees run high, first rise of this society to the present year 1762, Few patients can afford to die) they have collected, clothed, and fitted out for The poor durst into murmurs break; the sea-service, 5452 grown men, 4511 boys : For losers must have leave to speak: in all 9963 persons: whom they have thus not Then, from reproaching, fell to mawling only saved, in all probability, from perdition Each neighbour-rogue they found forestalling. and infamy, but rendered them useful members As these again, their knaves and setters, of the community; at a time too when their Durst vent complaints against their betterss country stood most in need of their assistance. Whose only crime was in defeating
Their scheme of growing rich by cheating :
An injur'd minister of state ?
The finisher of care and pain The privilege of every poet,
May, sare, with better grace complain, From ancient down through modern time,
For reasons no less strong and true, To bid dead matter live in rhyme;
Marine Society, of you !
Of you, as every carman knows, * This poem was certainly written in 1757; but My latest and most fatal foes. the reader has only to remember, that Apollo is My property you basely steal, the god of prophecy as well as of poetry. Mallet. Wbieh evo a British oak can feel;
Peel and resent! what wonder then
! “ First, that there is much good in ill, It should be felt by British men,
My great apostle Mandevile When France, insulting, durst invade
Has made most clear. Read, if you please, Their clearest property of trade?
His moral fable of the bees. For which both nations, at the bar
Our reverend clergy next will own, Of that supreme tribunal, war,
Were all men good, their trade were gone; To show their reasons have agreed,
That were it not for useful vice, And lawyers, by ten thousands, fee'd ;
Their learned pains would bear no price : Who now, for legal quirks and puns,
Nay, we should quickly bid defiance Plead with the rhetoric of great guns;
To their demonstrated alliance. And each his client's cause maintains,
“ Next, kingdoms are compos'd, we know, By knocking out th' opponent's brains :
Of individuals, Jack and Joe. While Europe all—but we adjourn
Now these, our sovereign lords, the rabble, This wise digression, and return.
For ever prone to growl and squabble, “ Your rules and statutes have undone me: The monstrous many-headed beast, My surest cards begin to shun me,
Whom we must not offend, but feast, My native subjects dare rebel,
Like Cerberus, should have their sop: Those who were born for me and Hell:
And what is that, but trussing up? And, but for you, the scoundrel-line
How happy were their hearts, and gay, Had, every mother's son, died mine.
At each return of hanging-day? A race unnumber'd as unknown,
To see Page ? swinging they admire, Whom town or suburb calls her own;
Beyond ev'n Madox ? on his wire ! Of vagrant love the various spawn,
No baiting of a bull or bear, From rags and filth, from lace and lawn,
To Perry ? dangling in the air!
And then, the being drunk a week,
How will they mutiny and roar! “ Nor let my cits be here forgot:
Your scheme absurd of sober rules They know to sin, as well as sot.
Will sink the race of men to mules ; When Night demure walks forth, array'd
For ever drudging, sweating, broiling, In her thin negligée of shade,
For ever for the public toiling : Late risen from their long regale
Hard masters ! who, just when they need 'em, Of beef and beer, and bawdy tale,
With a few thistles deign to feed 'em. Abroad the common-council sally,
“ Yet more-for it is seldom known To poach for game in lane or alley;
That fault or folly stands aloneThis gets a son, whose first essay
You next debauch their infant-mind Will filch his father's till away;
With fumes of honourable wind; A daughter that, who may retire,
Which must beget, in heads untry'd, Some few years hence, with ber own sire:
That worst of human vices, pride. And, while his hand is in her placket,
All who my humble paths forsake, The filial virtue picks his pocket.
Will reckon, each, to be a Blake; Change-alley, too, is grown so nice,
There, on the deck, with arms a-kimbo, A broker dares refine on vice:
Already struts the future Bembow; With lord-like scorn of marriage-vows,
By you bred up to take delight in In her own arms he cuckolds spouse;
No earthly things but oaths and fighting. for young and fresh while he would wish her,
These sturdy sons of blood and blows,
By making kicks and cuffs the fashion, 1
Will put all Europe in a passion. “ Now these, of each degree and sort,
The grand alliance, now quadruple, At Wapping dropp'd, perhaps at court,
Will pay us home, jusqu'au centuple:' Bred up for me, to swear and lie,
So the French king was heard to cryTo laugh at Hell, and Heaven defy;
And can a king of Frenchmen lie? These, Tyburn's regimental train,
“ These, and more mischiefs I foresee Who risk their necks to spread my reign,
From fondling brats of base degree. From age to age, by right divine,
As mushrooms that on dungbills rise, Hereditary rogues, were mine:
The kindred-weeds beneath despise; And each, by discipline severe,
So these their fellows will contemn, Improv'd beyond all shame and fear,
Who, in revenge, will rage at them: From guilt to guilt advancing daily,
For, through each rank, what more offends, My constant friend, the good Old-Bailey,
Than to behold the rise of friends ? To me made over, late or soon;
Still when our equals grow too great, I think, at latest, once a noon:
We may applaud, but we must hate. But, by your interloping care,
Then, will it be endur'd, when John Not one in ten shall be my share.
Has put my hempen ribbon on, “ Ere 'tis too late your errour see, You foes to Britain, and to me.
2 As these are all persons of note, and well To me: agreed-But to the nation;
known to our readers, we think any more particu I prove it thus by demonstration.
lar mention of them unnecessary. Mallet.