The globe and fceptre in fuch hands misplac'd,
Thofe enfigns of dominion, how difgrac'd

The glass that bids man mark the fleeting hour,
And death's own scythe would better speak his pow'r
Then grace the boney phantom in their stead
With the king's fhoulder-knot and gay cockade;
Cloath the twin brethren in each other's dress,
The fame their occupation and fuccefs.

A. 'Tis your belief the world was made for man,
Kings do but reafon on the self-fame plan,
Maintaining your's you cannot their's condemn,
Who think, or seem to think, man made for them.
B. Seldom, alas ! the power of logic reigns.
With much fufficiency in royal brains.
Such reas'ning falls like an inverted cone,
Wanting its proper bafe to ftand upon.
Man made for kings! those optics are but dim
That tell you fc-fay rather, they for him.
That were indeed a king-ennobling thought,
Could they, or would they, reafon as they ought.
The diadem with mighty projects lin❜d,
To catch renown by ruining mankind,
Is worth, with all its gold and glitt'ring ftore,
Just what the toy will fell for, and no more.

Oh! bright occafions of difpenfing good, How feldom ufed, how little underfood!

To pour is virtue's lap her juft reward,
Keep vice restrain'd behind a double guard,
To quell the faction that affronts the throne,
By filent magnanimity alone;

To nurfe with tender care the thriving arts,
Watch every beam philofophy imparts;
To give religion her upbridl'd scope,
Nor judge by ftatute a believer's hope;
With clofe fidelity and love unfeign'd,
To keep the matrimonial bond unstain'd;
Covetous only of a virtuous praise,
His life a leffon to the land he fways;
To touch the fword with confcientious awe,
Nor draw it but when duty bids him. draw,
To fheath it in the peace-reftoring close,
With joy, beyond what victory bestows,
Bleft country where thefe kingly glories fhine,
Bleft England! if this happinefs be thine.

A. Guard what you fay, the patriotic tribe Will fneer and charge you with a bribe.-B. A bribe? The worth of his three kingdoms I defy,

To lure me to the bafenefs of a lie.
And of all lies (be that a poet's boast)
The lie that flatters I abhor the most.
Those arts be their's who hate his gentle reign,
But he that loves him has no need to feign.

A. Your

A. Your finooth eulogium to one crown addrefs'd, Seems to imply a cenfure on the reft.

B. Quevedo, as he tells his fober tale, Afk'd, when in hell, to fee the royal jail, Approv'd their method in all other things, But where, good Sir, do you confine your kings? There-faid his guide, the groupe is full in view. Indeed? Replied the Don-there are but few. His black interpreter the charge difdain'Few, fellow? There are all that ever reign'd. Wit undistinguishing is apt to ftrike The guilty and not guilty, both alike. I grant the farcafm 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' historic 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 praife,
And many a dunce whofe fingers itch to write,
Adds, as he can, his tributary mite;

A fubject's faults a subject 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 majesty engage
Refpect, while talking o'er life's narrow stage,
Then leave their crimes for history to fcan,
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 flatt'rer bows,
And binds a wreath about their baby brows
Whom education ftiffens into ftate,

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

Whofe trade it is to faile, to crouch, to please ;
If fmooth diffimulation, fkill'd to grace

A devil's purpofe with an angel's face;
If fmiling peereffes and fimp'ring peers,
Incompaffing his throne a few short years;
If the gilt carriage and the pamper'd steed,
That wants no driving and difdains the lead;
If guards, mechanically form'd in ranks,
Playing, at,beat of drum, their martial pranks;
Should'ring and standing as if ftruck to stone,
While condescending majefty looks on;
If monarchy consists in such base things,
Sighing, I fay again, I pity kings!

To be fufpected, thwarted, and withstood,
Ev'n when he labours for his country's good,

To

To fee a band call'd patriot for no cause,
But that they catch at popular applaufe,
Careless of all th' anxiety he feels,

Hook difappointment on the public wheels,
With all their flippant fluency of tongue,
Moft confident, when palpably mo 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 th' unwash'd artificer repairs,
T' indulge his genius after long fatigue,
By diving into cabinet intrigue,

(For what kings doom 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 cenfur'd when they fail,

To doubt the love his fav'rites may pretend,
And in reality to find no friend;

If he indulge a cultivated taste,

His gall'ries with the works of art well grac'd,
To hear it call'd extravagance and waste ;
If these attendants, and if such as these,
Muft follow royalty, then welcome cafe ;
However humble and confin'd the fphere,
Happy the state that has not these to fear.