Imagens da página
PDF
ePub

Would Men of Genius cease to write,d
The Rogues muft die for Want of Spight,
Muft die for want of Food and Rayment,
If Scandal did not find them Payment.
How chearfully the Hawkers cry
A Satire, and the Gentry buy
While my hard-labour'd Poem pines
Unfold upon the Printer's Lines.

A Genius in the Rev'rend Gown
Muft ever keep its Owner down;
'Tis an unnatural Conjunction,

And spoils the Credit of the Function. Round all Brethren caft your Eyes;

your

Point out the fureft Men to rife:

That Club of Candidates in Black,
The leaft deferving of the Pack,
Afpiring, factious, fierce and loud,
With Grace and Learning unendow'd.
Will fooner coin a Thousand Lyes
Than fuffer Men of Parts to rife:
They croud about Preferment's Gate,
And prefs you down with all their Weight.
For, as of old, Mathematicians

Were by the Vulgar thought Magicians;
So Academick dull Ale-drinkers

Pronounce all Men of Wit, Free-thinkers.

Wit, as the chief of Virtue's: Friends,

Disdains to serve ignoble Ends.

Obferve what Loads of ftupid Rhimes:

Opprefs us in corrupted Times :

What Pamphlets in a Court's Defence:
Shew Reason, Grammar, Truth, or Sense?
For, though the Mufe delights in Fiction,
She ne'er infpires against Conviction,
Then keep your Virtue still unmixt,
And let not Faction come betwixt."

By Party Steps no Grandeur clime at,
'Tho' it would make you England's: Primate:
First learn the Science to be dull,

You then may foon your Confcience lull;
If not, however feated high,

Your Genius in your Face will fly.

When Jove was, from his teeming Head,
Of Wits fair Goodnefs brought to Bed,
There follow'd at his Lying-in

For After-birth a Sooterkin;
Which, as the Nurfe purfu'd to kill,
Attain'd by Flight the Mufe's Hill;
There in the Soil began to root,

And litter'd at Parnaffus' Foot.
From hence the Critick Vermin fprung

With Harpy Claws and Pois'nous Tongue.
Who fatten on Poetick Scraps,

Too cunning to be caught in Traps.

Dame

Dame Nature, as the Learned fhow,

Provides each Animal its Foe:

Hounds hunts the Hare, the wily Fox
Devours your Geefe, the Wolf your Flocks;
Thus Envy pleads a natʼral Claim
To perfecute the Mufes Fame;
On Poets in all Times abufive,
From Homer down to Pope inclufive.

Yet, what avails it to complain?
You try to take Revenge in vain.
A Rat your utmost Rage defies
That fafe behind the Wainfcot lies:
Say, did you ever know by Sight
In Cheese an individual Mite?
Shew me the fame numerick Flea,
That bit your Neck but yesterday.
You then may boldly go in Quest
To find the Grubstreet Poet's Neft.
What Spunging-Houfe in dread of Jayl
Receives them while they wait for Bayl:
What Ally they are nestled in,
To flourish o'er a Cup of Gin:
Find the laft Garrat 'where they lay,
Or Cellar, where they ftarve to Day.
Suppofe you had them all trepann'd
With each a Libel in his Hard,
What Punishment would you inflict ?
Or call 'em Rogues or get 'em kickt ?

Thefe

These they have often try'd before ;
You but oblige 'em fo much more:
Themfelves would be the first to tell.
To make their Trafh the better fell.

You have been Libel'd

[ocr errors]

Let us know

./T

What fenfelefs Coxcomb told you fo.
Will you regard the Hawker's Cryes
Who in his Titles always lyes?
Whate'er the noify Scoundrel fays,
It might be fomething in your Praise:
And, Praise bestow'd in Grubstreet Rhimes,
Would vex one more a thousand Times.
Till Blockheads blame, and Judges praife,
The Poet cannot claim his Bays.
On me, when Dunces are fatyrick,
I take it for a Panegyrick.
Hated by Fools, and Fools to bate,

Be that my Motto, and my

Fate.

On

[merged small][ocr errors]

Somnia quæ mentes ludunt volitantibus umbris, &c.

HOSE Dreams that on the filent Night intrude,

[ocr errors]

And with falfe flitting Shades our Minds delude, Jove never fends us downward from the Skies, Nor can they from infernal Manfions rife ; But all are meer Productions of the Brain, And Fools confult Interpreters in vain.

Limbs,

FOR, when in Bed we reft our weary
The Mind unburthen'd fports in various Whims;
The bufy Head with mimick Art runs o'er,
The Scenes and Actions of the Day before.

THE drowsy Tyrant, by his Minions led,
To regal Rage devotes fome Patriot's Head.
With equal Terrors, not with equal Guilt,
The Murd'rer dreams of all the Blood he spilt.
THE Soldier fmiling hears the Widow's Cries,
And ftabs the Son before the Mother's Eyes.
With like Remorfe his Brother of the Trade,
The Butcher fells the Lamb beneath his Blade.
THE Statesman rakes the Town to find a Plot,

[ocr errors]

And dreams of Forfeitures by Treafon got.

Nor

« AnteriorContinuar »