To view him, porters with their loads would rest,
And babes cling frighted to the nurses' breast:
With looks convuls'd, he roars in pompous strain,
And, like an angry lion, shakes his mane.
The Nine, with terror struck, who ne'er had seen
Aught human with so horrible a mien,

Debating, whether they should stay or run-
Virtue steps forth, and claims him for her son.
With gentle speech she warns him now to yield,
Nor stain his glories in the doubtful field;
But, wrapt in conscious worth, content sit down,
Since Fame, resolv'd his various pleas to crown,
Though forc'd his present claim to disavow,
Had long reserv'd a chaplet for his brow.
He bows; obeys-for Time shall first expire,
Ere Johnson stay, when Virtue bids retire.

Next Murphy silence broke :-'Oh, Goddess fair! To whom I still prefer my daily pray'r;

For whose dear sake I've scratch'd my drowsy head,
And robb'd alike the living and the dead; [thin,
Stranger to fear, have plung'd through thick and
And Fleet-ditch virgins drag'd to Lincoln's-Inn;
Smile on my hopes, thy favour let me share,
And show mankind Hibernia boasts thy care.'
Here stop'd he, interrupted quick by Jones,
A poet, rais'd from mortar, brick, and stones:
'Goddess,' he cries, reject his pitch-patch work,
He was a butter-seller's boy at Cork 29;

On me bestow the prize, on me, who came
From my dear country in pursuit of fame :
For thus advis'd Mæcenas 30 (best of men :)
"Jones, drop the trowel, and assume the pen ;

29 See the Picklock,' a scurrilous poem.

30 Philip, Earl of Chesterfield, when lord lieutenant, trausplanted Jones from Ireland to England.

The Muses thrive not in this barren soil,
Come, seek with me fair Albion's happier isle;
There shall the theatres increase thy store,
And Essex 3 bleed to make thy purse run o'er."-
Thus have I fondly left the mason's care,

To build imaginary tow'rs i'the' air,

Then since my golden hopes have prov'd a cheat, Oh, give him Fame, whom Fate forbids to eat 32 This, this at least, to me forlorn supply,

I'll live contented on a farthing-pie.'

Next in the train advanc'd a Highland lad 33,
Array'd in brogues and Galedonian plaid,
Surrounded by his countrymen, while loud
The British Homer 34 rang through all the crowd.
Then he with mickle pride and uncouth air
His bonnet doff'd, and thus prefer'd his pray'r:
'O Fame! regard me with propitious eyes,
Give me to seize this long-contested prize;
In epic lines I shine the king of verse!
From torn and tatter'd scraps of ancient Erse,

31 Jones's tragedy of the Earl of Essex was produced at Covent Garden in 1753.

99 It is a mortification to which the professed patrons of merit must ever be liable, to have their benevolence abused and their hopes deceived;--but great souls have no limits, or rather disdain any; which is well expressed by Voltaire: Repandez vos bienfaits avec magnificence, Meme au moins verteceux ne les refusez pas, Ne vous informez pas de leur reconnoissance, Il est grand, il est beau, de faire des ingrats. 35 Macpherson.

34 There is indeed an air of originality, which, to a literary virtuoso, renders Fingal worthy of notice. But I am afraid the North Britons cannot easily be acquitted of national partiality; who, instead of a bonnet and thistle, which would have been no incompetent reward, have insisted on his right to a crown of iaurel,

'Tis mine a perfect pile to raise, for all
Must own the wondrous structure of Fingal!'
No less a miracle, than if a Turk

A mosque should raise up of Mosaic work.

Next Mallet came; Mallet, who knows each art,
The ear to tickle, and to soothe the heart;
Who with a goose-quill, like a magic rod,
Transforms a Scotish peer 35 into a god.
Oh! matchless Mallet, by one stroke to clear,
One lucky stroke, four hundred pounds a year!
Long round a court poor Gay dependent hung,
(And yet most trimly 36 has the poet sung)
Twice six revolving years vain-hoping pass'd,
And unrewarded went away at last. [strain,
Again dame Prudence checks the madd'ning

And thus advises, wisely, though in vain :
'Ah, Spur! enlisted in a luckless cause,
Who pelf despising, seeks for vain applause,
Thy will how stubborn, and thy wit how small,
To think a muse can ever thrive on gall!
Then timely throw thy venom'd shafts aside,
Choose out some fool, blown up with power and
Be flattery thy arrow, this thy butt,

And praise the devil for his cloven foot.'

[pride,

The counsel's good ;-but how shall I subscribe, Who scorn to flatter, and detest a bribe?

35 For taking part with the Earl of Bute in some political disputes, Mallet was rewarded by the office of Keeper of the Book of Entries for ships in the port of London, in the year 1763.

$6 He told me, once upon a day, Trim are thy sonnets, gentle Gay.'

Prolog. to the Shepherd's Week.

In voice most weak, in sentiment most strong,
Like Milton, murder'd in an eunuch's song;
With honesty no malice e'er could shame,
With prejudices hunger ne'er could tame;
With judgment sometimes warp'd, but oft refin'd,
Next Cleland came-the champion of mankind!
Who views, contented with his little state,
Wealth squander'd by the partial hand of fate;
And, whilst dull rogues the joys of life partake,
Lives, a great patriot-on a mutton steak!
Dreaming of genius, which he never had,
Half-wit, half-fool, half-critic, and half-mad;
Seizing, like Shirley, on the poet's lyre,
With all the rage, but not one spark of fire;
Eager for slaughter, and resolv'd to tear

From others' brows that wreath he must not wear,
Next Kenrick came; all-furious, and replete
With brandy, malice, pertness, and conceit.
Unskill'd in classic lore, through envy blind
To all that's beauteous, learned, or refin'd;
For faults alone behold the savage prowl,
With reason's offal glut his ravening soul;
Pleas'd with his prey, its inmost blood he drinks,
And mumbles, paws, and turns it-till it stinks.

Erect he stood, nor deign'd one bow to Fame, Then bluntly thus:- Will Kenrick is my name. Who are these minions crowding to thy fane? Poets! 'pshaw! scribblers, impotent and vain; The chaplet's mine-I claim it, who inherit Dennis's rage, and Milbourne's glorious spirit 37.

37 Dennis and Milbourne, two things called Critics, damned to immortality for being the persecutors of Dryden and Pope.

Struck with amazement, Fame, who ne'er had seen
A face so brazen, and so pert a mien,

Calmly replied- Vain-boaster, go thy way,
And prove more furious, and more dull than they.'
Then Brown appear'd:—with such an air he
mov'd,

As show'd him confident and self-approv'd.
Poor, injur'd, honour'd Pope! the bard on thee
Has clapp'd a rusty lock without a key 39:
Thus, when enraptur'd, we attempt to rove
Through all the sweets of the Pierian grove,
The gate, alas! is strongly barr'd: and all
That taste the sweets must climb the rugged wall.
Reverent he bow'd, and thus address'd the
throne:

'One boon, oh! grant me, and the day's my own!
When the shrill trumpet calls the rival train
To scour with nimble feet the dusty plain;
Let not the dread professor, Lowth, appear,
To freeze thy votary's shivering soul with fear,
Tear the fine form, perhaps of all I've writ,
And drown me in a deluge of his wit.'
Next Vaughan 39 appear'd; he smil'd, and strok'd
his chin,

And, pleas'd to think his carcass was so thin,

38 Alluding to the Essay on Satire,' by Dr. Brown, prefixed to the second volume of Pope's works, which the reader of no discernment might mistake for the production of that immortal genius, unless he is lucky enough to stumble upon the title-page. It has often been a matter of astonishment, how it came there; as there is no such privilege in Mr. Pope's will, bequeathed to the editor, together with the property of his works.

39 Vaughan was a friend of Murphy, and wrote two farces. Churchill introduces him in the Rosciad as

Vaughan or Dapper, call him which you will.'