to do, or no Friend to entertain in Company. Believe me very affectionately,

Dear Sir, &c.

A. POPE.

.1

When Mr. Pope receiv'd the News of the Death of this Gentleman, he was writing to a Friend, and was fo much mov'd with it, that he broke off abrupt ly, giving the melancholy Reafon ; for Mr. Fenton's Death leffen'd the Circle of thofe who were in Mr. Pope's real Esteem, and was never mention'd by him without regretting the great Lofs of him.

"

Mr. Fenton had fome valuable Letters from Mr. Pope, which, at his Request, were again return'd to him, by that Means preventing their falling into Hands which might (perhaps not too faithfully) make them publick, which was done by many of his, by Curl, and Mr. Pope was fo exafperated at it, that he was very near making an Oath never to write a Letter, but fuch as might be immediately about Bufinefs, for in Reality he did not correfpond with a Friend upon the Terms of any free Subject of this Kingdom, fo that he was at laft reduc'd to beg of all his Acquaintance to fecure him from the like Ufage for the future, by returning him any Letters of his they might have preferv'd, left they should be publish'd after his Death, perhaps being improper to be feen or altered by the mercenary Purchafer, to ferve their, bafe Ends: For of fuch Things they make no Scruple, how many Inftances might we give? And how many Things have been made publick, and Mr. Pope infinuated to have been the Author? Curl was continually accufing him with what came out in the GrubStreet Journal, whieh Mr. Pope pofitively denies to have had any the leaft Correfpondence with; but the Town, though mistaken, were never more affür'd

fur'd than of his writing the Dialogue in the Paper call'd the Champion, Thursday Feb. 19, 1740-1, juft before the Election of the prefent Parliament:

Fulvius

Probus.

Probus

I

Would not fee my Country fold abroad,
Or brib'd away at home.

Fulvius

Who fays it is?

But Greatness speaking by a Parallel,
Is fet far off, and never fairly feen,
Diminish'd by its Height to thofe that gaze;
Nor judg'd to true Proportion: Can the Eye
Diftinguish clearly, what it scarcely fees?

32

Probus

I grant it true, that Diftance makes Things feem Much smaller than they are to our weak Sight, And Power, and Greatnefs, do to fome fick Fancies Create that Distance; and the Cheat lies there: For he that wears a Crown and Ermine Robes, Is juft what he appears, as near an Object, As plain a Subject of my Thoughts and Judgment, As he that goes in Rags; Man can't remove One Step from Man; his Nature fixes him.

Fulvius.

When well directed, take Mankind in grofs, They form their Judgment beft. How fhould they

know?

Are they in Council? Do they fee what moves?
Can they perceive the Balance of our Court?
And where we fhould incline? Could they fee this,

Have they capacious Minds to poize the Weight
In Wisdom's Scale?

Probus.

Wisdom is out of Place,

The Mafter Villain, he who bears the Purse,
Except to a furr'd Fox, or two, gives forth
To none but Fools; for what wife Man could bear
To see the drefs'd up Puppets that are sent
To other Realms, to buy thefe Fools their Caps;
Who bring home nothing but difaftrous Writs,
Expensive Peace, and over-bought Delufions?
Shame to our Land! or what wife Man could read,
(His Patience keeping Indignation quiet,)
The Heap of clashing Treaties, each with each
At natural War, and all with common Senfe
And our home Intereft? We are Slaves to Fools,
They fo to Knaves, the Knaves to Wealth and Power;
But all are Slaves; and many boaft their Chains,
Shewing their filken Bandage to the Sun;
Or bear the Mark of Slavery aloft,
In glittering Mitres, or in little Crowns:
Tho' fome there are that would conceal their Shame,
And underneath long Robes, and Forms of Law,
Hide the detefted Truth; but, as they fpeak,
The Prompter's feen; and yet the Farce goes on.
O Folly has got up o'er Wifdom's Head,
Spurning at either Eye; where the but blind,
All might feem right; now, tho' they labour fo
To keep up unmix'd Folly; the spoils all,
With fome harsh Counsel, or unwelcome Jeft.

Fulvius.

Change for the better, or not change at all.

*

Probus

Probus.

Come * Cardinal, Daughter of † Parma come, And fet your Feet on our fubjected Necks, Rather than have this No-body in Fact Thus lord it o'er our Liberties and us. I urge not, Sir, in Wantonnefs; my Heart Speaks in my Tongue; I own I hate the Man, Or in, or out of Place, whoe'er consents, And to his utmost Cunning, and no Cunning, Buys Power at home, to give away abroad; Digs and prepares a Pit to fink us in, And makes us all fubfcribe to our Undoing; Who by ftrange Lots gives Mifery to Chance, Making it seem to the mistaken Crowd A May-Play, a Diverfion, tho' their Bane: : Nay more, who forges empty Names of Office, Where Office there is none, except to take The unearn'd Salary, and vouch for him. Whofe Heart is open to receive this Man? Whofe, but the Caterpillars which he feeds With Grain from all our Garners?

Fulvius.

Still I hope

That Zeal tranfports you; fhould thefe Things be Who could enough lament a fallen State? [fo,

Probus.

Was it for this our great Fore-fathers ftrove
With domineering Statefmen, to preserve
Freedom intire? Did Mortimer, the Spencers,
And even mitred Wolfey fall for this?
Actions fo falutary to this Land,

Compaffion's

* Cardinal Fleury. Queen of Spain. Lotteries

Compaffion's felf look'd on, and faw, and fmil'd;
Wolfey, whofe Eye was on the Triple Crown;
Whole Hand prepar'd to change this Nation's Treafury
For Papal Power: Who fhall be more fecure?
Was Gavefton? And did not Strafford fall
Against his Mafter's Will? Comes all to this?
Was it for this the Royal Victim bled,
Crowns were fufpended, and the Throne kept vacant?
The mighty Rage of dreadful Civil War,
The Blood of Nobles, nay, the Blood of all,
Has been at Stake; certain the Lofs of Freedom
IS BRITAIN'S All, and fhall fhe lofe that All?
Then take your Chains, and found your own Dif-
As far as your Renown has ever reach'd. [grace,
But if, instead of this, ye dare affert
Your own and Country's Caufe, the Time is now;
Arm for the present, let new Councils lay
A fure Foundation for your future Glory.

Fulvius.

In fuch a Crifis Council's needed much.

11:

Probus.

Lad

As well as Councils, we want Counsellors: 'Tis not because I'm call'd a Man o' the Law, Or fit in certain Seats, that makes me wife; Mens Actions prove them beft; but one there. was, Was, nay there is, why faid I that there was? For where's the Power on Earth pretends to frown. On Man 'till he be nothing? Still he is, And darkens with the Splendor of his Virtue Numbers of little Stars: He could advife;

In Courts, and Camps, and Councils, feafon'd well:.
Has he not spoke already? I was there,

I heard this Northern Wonder, from his Tongue
VOL. II. bro Q
* Duke of Argyle.

Dropp'd