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See motley life in modern trappings drefs'd,
And feed with varied fools th' eternal jest:
Thou who couldft laugh where want enchain'd
caprice,

Toil crufh'd conceit, and man was of a piece;
Where wealth unlov'd without a mourner dy'd;
And scarce a fycophant was fed by pride;

Where ne'er was known the form of mock debate,
Or feen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state;
Where change of fav'rites made no change of laws,
And fenates heard before they judg'd a caufe;
How wouldst thou shake at Britain's modifh tribe,
Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe?
Attentive truth and nature to defcry,
And pierce each fcene with philofophick eye.
To thee were folemn toys or empty fhow,
The robes of pleasure and the veils of woe:
All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain,
Whofe joys are caufelefs, or whofe griefs are vain.
Such was the fcorn that fill'd the fage's mind,
Renew'd at ev'ry glance on human kind;
How juft that fcorn ere yet thy voice declare,
Search every state, and canvafs ev'ry pray'r.

* Unnumber'd fuppliants crowd Preferment's gate,
A thirst for wealth, and burning to be great;
Delusive Fortune hears th' inceffant call,
They mount, they fhine, evaporate, and fall.
On ev'ry stage the foes of peace attend,

Hate dogs their flight, and infult mocks their end. Love ends with hope, the finking statesman's door Pours in the morning worshipper no more;

* Ver. 56-107.

For

For growing names the weekly fcribbler lies,
To growing wealth the dedicator flies;
From ev'ry room defcends the painted face,
That hung the bright palladium of the place,
And fmoak'd in kitchens, or in auctions fold,
To better features yields the frame of gold;
For now no more we trace in ev'ry line
Heroick worth, benevolence divine :
The form diftorted juftifies the fall,
And deteftation rids th' indignant wall.

But will not Britain hear the last appeal,
Sign her foes doom, or guard her fav'rites zeal ?
Thro' Freedom's fons no more remonftrance rings,
Degrading nobles and controuling kings;

Our fupple tribes repress their patriot throats,
And ask no queftions but the price of votes ;
With weekly libels and feptennial ale,
Their wish is full to riot and to rail.

In full-blown dignity, fee Wolfey stand,
Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand :
To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs confign,

Thro' him the rays of regal bounty fhine,

Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows,

His fimile alone fecurity bestows:

Still to new heights his reftlefs wishes tow'r,
Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r;
Till conqueft unrefifted ceas'd to please,
And rights fubmitted, left him none to seize.
At length his fov'reign frowns-the train of ftate
Mark the keen glance, and watch the fign to hate.
Where-e'er he turns he meets a stranger's eye,
His fuppliants fcorn him, and his followers fly;
Now drops at once the pride of awful state,
The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate,

The

The regal palace, the luxurious board,
The liv'ried army, and the menial lord.
With age, with cares, with maladies opprefs'd,
He feeks the refuge of monaftick rest.
Grief aids difeafe, remember'd folly ftings,
And his laft fighs reproach the faith of kings.
Speak thou, whofe thoughts at humble peace repine,
Shall Wolfey's wealth, with Wolfey's end be thine?
Or liv'ft thou now, with fafer pride content,
The wifeft juftice on the banks of Trent?
For why did Wolfey near the fteeps of fate,
On weak foundations raife th' enormous weight?
Why but to fink beneath misfortune's blow,
With louder ruin to the gulphs below?

What * gave great Villiers to th' affaffin's knife,
And fix'd disease on Harley's clofing life?
What murder'd Wentworth, and what exil'd Hyde,
By kings protected, and to kings ally'd?
What but their wifh indulg'd in courts to fhine,
And pow'r too great to keep, or to refign?
When † first the college rolls receive his name,
The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame;
Refiftless burns the fever of renown,

Caught from the ftrong contagion of the gown:
O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread,
And Bacon's manfion trembles o'er his head.
Are these thy views? proceed, illuftrious youth,
And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth!

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There is a tradition, that the study of friar Bacon, built on an arch over the bridge, will fall, when a man greater than Bacon fhall pufs under it.

Yet fhould thy foul indulge the gen'rous heat, Till captive Science yields her last retreat; Should Reafon guide thee with her brightest ray, And pour on mifty Doubt refiftless day; Should no falfe kindness lure to loose delight, Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright; Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain, And Sloth effufe her opiate fumes in vain; Should Beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart, Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart; Should no Disease thy torpid veins invade, Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade Yet hope not life from grief or danger free, Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee: Deign on the paffing world to turn thine eyes, And paufe awhile from learning, to be wife; There mark what ills the fcholar's life affail, Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. See nations flowly wife, and meanly just, To buried merit raise the tardy bust. If dreams yet flatter, once again attend, Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end.

Nor deem, when Learning her laft prize beftows, The glitt'ring eminence exempt from foes; See when the vulgar 'fcapes, defpis'd or aw'd, Rebellion's vengeful talons feize on Laud. From meaner minds, tho' fmaller fines content The plunder'd palace or fequefter'd rent; Mark'd out by dang'rous parts he meets the fhock, And fatal Learning leads him to the block: Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep,

But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and fleep.

The

The festal blazes, the triumphal show,
The ravish'd standard, and the captive foe,
The fenate's thanks, the gazette's pompous tale,
With force refiftless o'er the brave prevail.
Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Afia whirl'd,
For fuch the fteady Romans fhook the world;
For fuch in diftant lands the Britons fhine,

And ftain with blood the Danube or the Rhine;
This pow'r has praise, that virtue fcarce can warm,
Till fame fupplies the universal charm.

Yet Reafon frowns on War's unequal game,
Where wasted nations raise a single name,

And mortgag'd ftates their grandfires wreaths regret,
From age to age in everlasting debt;

Wreaths which at laft the dear bought right convey To ruft on medals, or on stones decay.

On what foundation ftands the warrior's pride,
How juft his hopes let Swedish Charles decide;
A frame of adamant, a foul of fire,

No dangers fright him, and no labours tire;
O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain,
Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain;
No joys to him pacifick fcepters yield,
War founds the trump, he rushes to the field;
Behold furrounding kings their pow'rs combine,
And one capitulate, and one refign;

Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain;
"Think nothing gain'd, he cries, till nought remain,
"On Moscow's walls till Gothick ftandards fly,
"And all be mine beneath the polar fky."

Ver. 133-146.

Ver. 147-167.

VOL. XI.

Z

The

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