Encomiums fuit not this cenforious Time,
It felf a Subject for Satirick Rhime;
Ignorance honour'd, Wit and Worth defam'd,
Folly triumphant, and ev'n HOMER blam❜d.

But to this Genius, join'd with so much Art,
Such various Learning mix'd in ev'ry part,
Poets are bound a loud Applause to pay ;
APOLLO bids it, and they muft obey.

And yet so wond'rous, fo fublime a thing,
As the great Iliad, fcarce fhould make me fing;
Except I juftly could at once commend
A good Companion, and as firm a Friend.
One moral, or a mere well-natur'd Deed,

Can all Defert in Sciences exceed.

'Tis great Delight to laugh at some Men's Ways; But a much greater to give Merit Praise.

VOL. I.

STAN

STANZA S.

WHEN

HEN c'er my foolish Bent to publick Good, Or fonder Zeal for fome mifguided Prince, Shall make my dangʼrous Humour understood, For changing Minifters for Men of Senfe.

When vainly proud to fhew my publick Care,
And cv'n afham'd to fee three Nations fool'd,
I fhall no longer bear a wretched Share

In ruling ill, or being over-rul'd.

Then, as old Letchers in a Winter's Night
To yawning Hearers all their Pranks disclose
And what Decay deprives them of Delight,

Supply with vain Endeavours to impose:

Juft

Juft fo fhall I as idly entertain

Some stripling Patriots, fond of seeming wife; Tell, how I ftill cou'd great Employments gain,

Without concealing Truths, or whifp'ring Lyes.

Boast of fucceeding in my Country's Cause
Ev'n against some almost too high to blame;
Whom, when advanc'd beyond the reach of Laws,
I oft have ridicul'd to Senfe and Shame.

Say, I refifted the most potent Fraud;
But friendless Merit openly approv'd;

And that I was above the being aw'd

Not only by my Prince, but thofe he lov'd.

Who knows but my Example then may please
Such noble, hopeful Spirits, as appear
Willing to flight their Pleasures and their Ease,

For Fame and Honour? Till at laft they hear,

After much Trouble born, and Danger run,
The Crown affifted, and my Country ferv'd ;
Without good Fortune I had been undone,
Without a good Estate I might have starv'd.

The

The Election of a Poet Laureat in 1719.

A

Famous Affembly was fummon'd of late :

To crown a new Laureat camePHOEBUS in state; With all that MONTFAUCON himself could defire, His Bow, Laurel, Harp, and abundance of Fire.

At Bartlemew-Fair ne'er did Bullies fo juftle, No County Election e'er made fuch a bustle: From Garret, Mint, Tavern, they all post away, Some thirsting for Sack, fome ambitious of Bay.

All came with full Confidence,flufh'd with vainHope, From CIBBER and DURFEY, to PRIOR and POPE. PHOEBUS fmil'd on thefe laft, but yet ne'ertheless, Said, he hop'd they had got enough by the Prefs,