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Women were made to give our eyes delight; Wisdom to gold prefer; for 't is much less
To make our fortune, than our happiness.
That happiness which great-ones ofien see, That her dear self is her eternal theme;
With rage and wouder, in a low degree ; Through hopes of contradiction, oft she'll say, Themselves unblest. The poor are only poor
or ! “Methinks I look so wretchedly to-day!”. But what are they who droop amid their store ! When most the world applauds you, most beware; Nothing is meaner than a wretch of state ; 'Tis often less a blessing than a snare.
The kappy only are the truly great. Distrust mankind; with your own heart confer; Peasants enjoy like appetites with kings ; And dread even there to find a fatterer.
And those best satisfied with cheapest things. The breath of others raises our renown;
Could both our Indies buy but one new sense,
See how they beg an alms of flattery!
A decent competence we fully taste i
It strikes our sense, and gives a cunstant feast : Whom praise we most * The virtuous, brave, and More, we perceive by dint of thought alone; wise?
The rich must labour to possess their own, No; wretches, whom, in secret, we despise, To feel their great abundance; and request And who so blind, as not to see the cause ? Their humble friends to help them to be blest ; No rivals rais'd by such discreet applause ;
To see their treasures, hear their glory told, And yet, of credit it lays in a store,
And aid the wretched impotence of gold. By which our spleen inay wound true worth the more. But some, great souls ! and touch'd with warmth Ladies there are who think one crime is all :
divine, Can women, then, no way but backward fall ? Give gold a price, and teach its beams to shine, So sweet is that one crime they don't pursue, All hoarded treasures they repute a load ; To pay its loss, they think all others few. Nor think their wealth their own, till well bestow'd. Who hold that crime so dear, must never claim Grand reservoirs of public happiness, Of injur'd modesty the sacred name.
Through secret streams diffusively they bless; But Clio thus: “What! railing without end ? And, while their bounties glide, concealid from “ Mean task ! how much more generous to com
view, mend ! »
Relieve our wants, and spare our blushes too. Yes, to commend as you are wont to do,
But Satire is my task; and these destroy My kind instructor, and example too.
Her gloomy province, and malignant joy. “ Daphnis,” says Clio, “has a charming eye: Help me, ye misers ! help me to complain, What pity 't is her shoulder is awry!
And blast our common enemy, Germain : Aspasia's shape indeedBut then her air
But our invectives must despair success; The man bas parts who finds destruction there. For, next to praise, she values nothing less. • Almeria's wit has something that's divine;
What picture's yonder, loosen'd from its frame? And wit's enough-how few in all things shine ! Or is 't Asturia, that affected daine ? Selina serves her friends, relieves the poor- The brightest forms, through affectation, fade Who was it said Selina's near threescore?
To strange new things, wbich Nature never made. At Lucia's match I from my soul rejoice;
Frown not, ye fair! so much your sex we prize, The world congratulates so wise a choice;
We hate those arts that take you from our eyes. His lordship’s rent-roll is exceeding great
In Albucinda's native grace is seen But mortgages will sap the best estate.
What you, who labour at perfection, mean. In Shirley's form might cherubims appear; Short is the rule, and to be learnt with ease, But then-she has a freckle on her ear."
Retain your gentle selves, and you must please. Without a lut, Hortensia sbe commends,
Here might I sing of Memmia's mincing mnien, The first of women, and the best of friends; And all the movements of the soft machine: Owns her in person, wit, fame, virtue, bright; How two red lips affected Zephyrs blow, But how comes this to pass ? - She died last night. To cool the bohea, and inflame the beau:
Thus nymphs commend, who yet at satire rail : While one white finger and a thumb conspire Indeed that's needless, if such praise prevail. To lift the cup, and make the world admire. And whence such praise ? Our virulence is thrown Tea ! how I tremble at thy fatal stream! On others' fame, through fondness for our own. As Lethe, dreadful to the Love of Famc.
Of rank and riches proud, Cleora frowns; What devastations on thy banks are seen! For are not coronets a-kin to crowns ?
What shades of mighty names which once hare been! Her greedy eye, and her sublime address,
A hecatomb of characters supplies The height of avarice and pride confess.
Thy painted altars' daily sacrifice.
As grains of finest sugars melt away,
Scandal's the sweetner of a female feast.
But this inhuman triumph shall decline, And quite as much detested as a wit.
And thy revolting Naiads call for wine ; Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine ? Spirits no longer shall serve under thee; Can we dig peace, or wisdom, from the mine? But reign in thy own cup, exploded tea !
Citronia's nose declares thy ruin nigh,
Rise then, my Muse, in honest fury rise ; And who dares give Citronia's nose the lie? They dread a satire, who defy the skies. The ladies long at men of drink exclaim'd,
Atheists are few: most nymphs a Godhead owa; And what impair'd both health and virtue, blam'd; And nothing but his attributes dethrone. At length, to rescue man, the generous lass From atheists far, they steadfastly believe Stole from her consort the pernicious glass; God is, and is Almighty--to forgive. As glorious as the British queen renown'd,
His other excellence they'll not dispute ; Who suck'd the poison from her husband's wound.
mercy, sure, is his chief attribute. Nor to the glass alone are nymphs inclin'd, Shall pleasures of a short duration chain But every bolder vice of bold mankind.
A lady's soul in everlasting pain ? O Juvenal! for thy severer rage !
Will the great Author us poor worms destroy, To lasb the ranker follies of our age.
For now and then a sip of transient joy? Are there, among the females of our iste,
No, he's for ever in a smiling mood ; Such faults, at which it is a fault to smile? He's like themselves; or how could he be good ? There are.
Vice, once by modest nature chaiu'd And they blaspheme, who blacker schemes suppose. And legal ties, expatiates unrestrain'd;
Devoutly, thus, Jehovah they depose, Without thin decency held up to view,
The pure! the just ! and set up, ia bis stead, Naked she stalks o'er Law and Gospel too.
A deity, that's perfectly well-bred. Our matrons lead such exemplary lives,
“ Dear Tillotson ! be sure the best of men ; Men sigh inwain for none but for their wives; Nor thought he more, than thought great Origen, Who marry to be free, to range the more,
Though once upon a time he misbehar'd; And wed one man, to wanton with a score.
Poor Satan! doubtless, he'll at length be sar'd. Abroad too kind, at home't is steadfast hate, Let priests do something for their one in ten ; And one eternal tempest of debate.
It is their trade ; so far they're honest men. What foul eruptions, from a look most meek! Let them cant on, since they have got the knack, What thunders bursting, from a dimpled cheek! And dress their notions, like themselves, in Hack ; Their passions bear it with a lofty hand !
Fright us with terrours of a world unknown, But then, their reason is at due command.
From joys of this, to keep them all their own.
Did ever mortal write like Rouchefoucault ?"
And, pleading, safely enters on his list. What blasting whispers, and what loud declaim- Let angel-forms angelic truths maintain; ing!
Nature disjoins the beauteous and profane. What lying, drinking, bawding, swearing, gaming! For what's true beauty, but fair virtue's face? Friendship sa cold, such warm incontinence; Virtue made visible in outward grace ? Such griping avarice, such profuse expense ; She, then, that's haunted with an impious mind, Such dead devotion, such a zeal for crimes; The more she charms, the more she shoeks mankind. Such licens'd ill, such masquerading times;
But charms decline: the fair long vigils keep: Such venal faith, such misapplied applause ; They sleep no more! Quadrille has murder'd sleep Such flatter'a guilt, and such inverted laws ! "Poor K-p!” cries Livia ; “I have not been there
Such dissolution through the whole I find, These two nights; the poor creature will despair. 'Tis not a werld, but chaos of mankind.
I bate a crowd-but to do good, you know Since Sundays have no balls, the well-dress'd belle And people of condition should bestow.” Shines in the pew, but smiles to hear of Hell; Convinc'd, o'ercome, to K-p's grave matrons run; And casts an eye of sweet disdain on all
Now set a daughter, and now stake a son ; Who listen less to Collins than St. Paul.
Let health, fame, temper, beanty, fortune, iy; Atheists have been but rare; since Nature's birth, And beggar half their racem-through charity. Till now, she-atheists ne'er appeard on Earth. Immortal were we, or else mortal quite, Ye men of deep researches, say, whence springs I less should blame this criminal delight: This daring character, in timorons things ? But since the gay assembly's gayest room Who start at feathers, from an insect fly,
Is but an upper story to some tomb,
Methinks, we need not our short being shun,
We need not buy our ruin with our crime,
And give eternity to murder time. “ From thinking free, to be free agents too.". The love of gaming is the worst of ills ; They strive with their own hearts, and keep them with ceaseless storms the blacken’d soul it Alls; down,
Inveighs at Heaven, neglects the ties of blood; In complaisance to all the fools in town.
Destroys the power and will of doing good , O how they tremble at the name of prude! Kills health, pawns honour, plunges in disgrace, And die with shame at thought of being good ! And, what is stilt more dreadful-spoils your face. For what will Artimis, the rich and gay,
See yonder set of thieves that live on spoil,
A form divine high wave her snowy hand;
That rattles loud a small enchanted box,
Our pride so great, our passion is so strong, Which, loud as thunder, on the board she knocks. Advice to right confirms us in the wrong. And as fierce storms, which Earth's foundation I hear you cry, “ This fellow's very odd.” shook,
When you chastise, who would not kiss the rod ? From Æolus's cave impetuous broke,
But I've a charm your anger shall control, From this small cavern a mix'd tempest Aies, And turn your eyes with coldness on the vole. Fear, rage, convulsion, tears, oaths, blasphemies ! The charm begins! To yonder flood of light, Fur men, I mean—the fair discharges none; That bursts o'er gloomy Britain, turn your sight. She (guiltless creature!) swears to Heaven alone. What guardian power o'erwhelms your souls with See her eyes start! cheeks glow! and muscles Her deeds are precepts, her example law; [awe? swell!
'Midst empire's charms, how Carolina's heart Like the mad maid in the Cumean cell.
Glows with the love of virtue, and of art!
When in my page, to balance numerous faults, And on her pillow lays her aching head,
Or godlike deeds were shown, or generous thoughts, With the dear images her dreams are crown'd, She smii'd, industrious to be pleas'd, nor knew The die spins lovely, or the cards go round ; From whom my pen the borrow'd lustre drew. Imaginary ruin charms her still ;
Thus the majestic mother of mankind ?, Her happy lord is cuckold by spadille :
To her own charms most amiably blind, And if she's brought to bed, 't is ten to one, On the green margin innocently stood, He marks the forehead of her darling son.
And gaz'd indulgent on the crystal flood; O scene of horrour, and of wild despair,
Survey'd the stranger in the painted ware, Why is the rich Atrides' splendid heir
And, smiling, prais'd the beauties which she gave. Constrain'd to quit his antient lordly seat, And hide his glories in a mean retreat ? Why that drawn sword ? and whence that dis
SATIRE VII. mal cry? Why pale distraction through the family? See my lord threaten, and my lady weep, THE RIGHT HON. SIR ROBERT WALPOLE. And trembling servants from the tempest creep. Why tbat gay son to distant regions sent?
Carmina tum melius, cum venerit Ipse, canemus. What fiends that daughter's destin'd match prevent? Why the whole house in sudden ruin laid?
VIRG. O nothing, but last night—my lady play'd.
On this last labour, this my closing strain, But wanders not my Satire from her theme? Smile, Walpole, or the Nine inspire in vain : Is this too owing to the love of fame?
To thee, 't is due; that verse how justly thine, Though now your hearts on lucre are bestow'd, Where Brunswick's glory crowns the whole design! 'Twas first a vain-devotion to the mode ;
That glory, which thy counsels make so bright; Nor cease we here, since 't is a vice so strong; That glory, which on thee reflects a light. The torrent sweeps all womankind along.
Illustrious commerce, and but rarely known. This may be said, in honour of our times,
To give, and take, a lustre from the throne.
If sin you must, take Nature for your guide : The fountain is not foreign to the stream.
Say, Britain ! whence this caprice of thy sons, Can cards alone your glowing fancy seize;
Which through their various ranks with fury runs ! Must Cupid learn to punt, e'er he can please ? The cause is plain, a cause which we must bless; When you're enamour'd of a lift or cast,
For caprice is the daughter of success, What can the preacher more, to make us chaste ? (A bad effect, but from a pleasing cause !) Why must strong youths unmarried pine away? And gives our rulers undesign'd applause; They find no woman disengag'd—from play. Tells how their conduct bids our wealth increase, Why pine the married 2-0 severer fate!
And lulls us in the downy lap of peace. They find from play no disengag'd-estate.
While I survey the blessings of our isle, Flavia, at lovers false, uutouch'd, and hard,
Her arts triumphant in the royal smile, Turns pale, and trembles at a cruel card.
Her public wounds bound up, her credit high, Nor Arria's Bible can secure her age;
Her commerce spreading sails in every sky, Her threescore years are shuffling with her page. The pleasing scene recalls my theme again, While Death stands by, but till the game is done, And shows the madness of ambitious men, To sweep that stake, in justice, long his own ; Who, fond of bloodshed, draw the murdering sword, Like old cards ting'd with sulphur, she takes fire; And burn to give mankind a single lord. Or, like snuffs sunk in sockets, blazes higher.
The follies past are of a private kind; Ye gods! with new delights inspire the fair ; Their sphere is small; their inischief is confin'd: Or give us sons, and save us from despair.
But daring men there are (Awake, my Muse, | Sons, brothers, fathers, husbands, tradesmen, And raise thy verse!) who bodler prhensy choose ; close
Who, stung by glory, rare, and bound away : In my complaint, and brand your sins in prose: The world their field, and humankind their prey. Yet I believe, as firmly as my Creed, Lo spite of all our wisdom, you'll proceed :
The Grecian chief, th' enthusiast of his price, How Versus is less qualified to steal With Rage and Terrour stalking by his side, With sword and pistol, than with wax and seat Raves round the globe; he soars into a god!
How lawyers' fees to such excess are run, Stand fast, Olympus ! and sustain bis nod. That clients are redress'd till they're undone. The pest divine in horrid grandeur reigns,
How one man's anguish is another's sport; And thrives on mankind's miseries and pains. And e'en denials cost us dear at court. What slaughter'd hosts! what cities in a blaze! How man eternally false judgments makes, What wasted countries! and what crimson seas ! And all his joys and sorrows are mistakes. With orphans' tears his impious bowl o'erflows, This swarm of themes that settles on iny pen, And cries of kingdoms lull him to repose.
Which I, like summer flies, shake off again, And cannot thrice ten hundred years unpraise
Let others sing; to whom my weak essay The boisterous boy, and blast his guilty bays? But sounds a prelude, and points out their prey: Why want we then encomiums on the storm, That duty done, I hasten to complete Or famine, or volcano 2. They perform
My own design; for Tonson's at the gate. Their mighty deeds; they, hero-like, can slay, The Love of Fame in its effect survey'd, And spread their ample deserts in a day.
The Muse has sung: be now the cause display'd : O great alliance! O divine renown!
Since so diffusive, and so wide its sway, With dearth, and pestilence, to share the crown. What is this power, whom all mankind obey ? When men extol a wild destroyer's name,
Shot from above, by Heaven's indulgence, came Earth's Builder and Preserver they blaspheme. This generous ardour, this unconquer'd flame, One to destroy, is murder by the law;
To warm, to raise, to deify, mankind, And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe;
Still burning brightest in the noblest mind. To murder thousands, takes a specious name, By large-soul'd men, for thirst of fame renown'd, War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame. Wise lau's were fram’d, and sacred arts were found;
When, after battle, I the field hare seen Desire of praise first broke the patriot's rest; Spread o'er with ghastly shapes, which once were And made a bulwark of the warrior's breast; men;
It bids Argyll in fields and senate sbine :
What more can prove its origin divine ?
The flaming minister of virtue meant,
Set up false gods, and wrong'd her high descent, How honest nature swelld into my eyes !
Ambition, hence, exerts a doubtful force, How was I shock'd to think the hero's trade Of hlots, and beauties, an alternate source ; Of such materials, fame and triumph, made! Hence Gildon rails, that raven of the pit,
How guilty these! Yet not less guilty they, Who thrives upon the carcases of wit; Who reach false glory by a smoother way; And in art-loving Scarborough is seen Who wrap destruction up in gentle words,
How kind a pattern Pollia might have been. And bows, and smiles, more fatal than their swords; Pursuit of fame with pedants fills our schools, Who stifle nature, and subsist on art;
And into coxcombs burnishes our fools; Who coin the face, and petrify the heart;
Pursuit of fame makes solid learning bright, All real kindness for the show discard,
And Newton lifts above a mortal height; As marble polish'd, and as marble hard ;
That key of Nature, by whose wit she clears Who do for gold what Christians do through grace,
Her long, long secrets of five thousand years. “ With open arms their enemies embrace;”
Would you then fully comprehend the whole, Who give a nod when broken hearts repine; Why, and in what degrees, pride sways the soul ! “The thinnest food on which a wretch can dine: (For, though in all, not equally she reigns) Or, if they serve you, serve you disinclin'd, Awake to knowledge, and attend my strains. And, in their height of kindness, are unkind.
Ye doctors ! hear the doctrine I disclose, Such courtiers were, and such again may be, As true, as if 't were writ in dullest prose; Walpole, when men forget to copy thee.
As if a letter'd dunce had said, “ 'T' is right," Here cease, my Muse! the catalogue is writ; And imprimatur usher'd it to light. Nor one more candidate for fame admit,
Ambition, in the truly noble mind, Though disappointed thousands justly blame With Sister-virtue is for ever join'd; Thy partial pen, and boast an equal claim: As in fam'd Lucrece, who, with equal dread, Be this their comfort, fools, omitted here,
From guilt and shame, by her last conduct, fled : May furnish laughter for another year.
Her virtue long rebell'd in firm disdain, Then let Crispino, who was ne'er refus'd
And the sword pointed at her heart in vain; The justice yet of being well abus’d,
But, when the slave was threaten'd to be laid With patience wait; and be content to reign Dead by her side, her Love of Fame obey'd. The pink of puppies in some future strain.
In meaner minds Ambition works alone; Some future strain, in which the Muse shall But with such art puts Virtue's aspect on, tell
That not more like in feature and in mien, How science dwindles, and how volumes swell. The God and mortal in the comic scene'.
How commentators each dark passage shun, False Julius, Ambush'd in this fair disguise, And hold their farthing candle to the Sun.
Soon made the Roman liberties his prize.
But in full light pricks up her ass's ears :
TO WHICH IS PREFIXED
All I have sung are instances of this,
HIS MAJESTY'S ROYAL ENCOURAGEMENT Our purpose good, as our achievement great;
OF THE SEA SERVICE.
A DISCOURSE ON ODE.
I THINK myself obliged to recommend to you a Proud conquests then, then regal pomps delight;
consideration of the greatest importance; and I Then crowns, then triumphs, sparkle in his sight;
should look upon it as a great happiness, if, at the Tumult and noise are dear, which with them bring laid of so great and necessary a work, as the in
beginning of my reign, I could see the foundation His people's blessings to their ardent king : But, when those great heroic motives cease,
crease and encouragement of our seamen in general; His swelling soul subsides to native peace;
that they may be invited, rather than compelled From tedious grandeur's faded charms withdraws, by force and violence, to enter into the service of A sudden foe to splendour and applause ;
their country, as oft as occasion shall require it: Greatly deferring his arrears of fame,
a consideration worthy the representatives of a Till men and angels jointly shout his name.
people great and flourishing in trade and navigation. O pride celestial! which can pride disdain ;
This leads me to mention to you the case of GreenO blest ambition! which can ne'er be vain.
wich Hospital, that care may be taken, by some From one fam'd Alpine hill, which props the sky, effectual that charitable provision for the support
addition to that fund, to render comfortable and In whose deep womb unfathom'd waters lie, Here burst the Rhone and sounding Po; there shine, and maintenance of our seamen, worn out, and be In infant rills, the Danube and the Rhine;
come decrepit by age and infirmities, in the service From the rich store one fruitful urn supplies,
of their country. [Speech, Jan. 27, 1727-8.] Whole kingdoms smile, a thousand harvests rise.
In Brunswick such a source the Muse adores, Which public blessings through half Europe pours.
TO THE KING. When his heart burns with such a godlike aim,
Old Ocean's praise Angels and George are rivals for the fame;
Demands my lays; George, who in foes can soft affections raise,
A truly-British theme I sings And charm envenom'd satire into praise.
A theme so great Nor human rage alone bis power perceives,
I dare complete,
And join with Ocean,. Ocean's king.
To gods and kings
The poet sings;
The Muse inspires
With all her fires;
From awful state,
From high debate, How did Britannia, like Achilles, weep,
From morning-splendours of a crown, And tell her sorrows to the kindred deep!
From homage paid,
From empires weigh’d,
Great monarch ! bow Our Palinurus slept not at the helm;
Thy beaming brow ; His eye ne'er clos'd; long since inur'd to wake,
To thee I strike the sounding lyre,
With proud design And out-watch every star for Brunswick's sake :
In verse to shine;
To rival Greek and Roman fire.
The Roman ode
In sense, and sound,
Thebes roll'd profound ; ? The king in danger by sea
The torrent roar'd, and foam'd along