See her eyes start! cheeks glow! and mufcles Like the mad maid in the Cumean cell. [fwell! Thus that divine one her foft nights employs! Thus tunes her foul to tender nuptial joys! And when the cruel morning calls to bed, And on her pillow lays her aking head, With the dire images her dreams are crown'd, The die fpins lovely, or the cards go round; Imaginary ruin charms her ftill; Her happy lord is cuckold by Spadille; And if he's brought to bed, 'tis ten to one, He marks the forehead of her darling fon. O fcene of horror, and of wild defpair! Why is the rich Artides' fplendid heir Conftrain'd to quit his ancient lordly feat, And hide his glories in a mean retreat! Why that drawn fword? and whence that difmal Why pale diftraction thro' the family? [cry? See, my lord threatens, and my lady weep, And trembling fervants from the tempeft creep. Why that gay fon to diftant regions fent? What fiends that daughter's deftin'd match preWhy the whole houfe in fudden ruin laid? [vent! O nothing, but laft night my lady play'd.

But wanders not my Satire from her theme? Is this too owing to the Love of Fame? Though now your hearts on lucre are beftow'd; 'Twas firft a vain devotion to the mode. Nor ceafe we here, fince 'tis a voice fo ftrong; The torrent fweeps all womankind along. This may be faid in honor of our times, [crimes. That none now ftands diftinguifh'd by their If fin you muft, take Nature for your guide, Love has fome foft excufe to footh your pride, Ye fair apoftates from love's ancient pow'r ! Can nothing ravish but a golden fhow'r? Can cards alone your glowing fancy feize? Muft Cupid learn to punt ere he can please? When you're enamour'd of a lift or caft, What can the preacher more to make us chafte Can fame, like a repique, the foul entrance? And what is virtue to the lucky chance? Why muft ftrong youths unmarry'd pine away? They find no woman difengag'd-from play. Why pine the marry'd? O feverer fate! They find from play no difengag'd — eftate. Flavia, at lovers falfe untouch'd, and hard, Turns pale, and trembles at a cruel card. Nor Arria's Bible can fecure her age; Her threefcore years are thuffling with her page, While Death ftands by but till the game is done, To fweep that ftake in juftice long his own; Like old cards ting'd with fulphur fhe takes firc; Or, like fnuffs funk in fockets, blazes higher. Ye gods! with new delights infpire the fair; Or give us fons, and fave us from defpair?

-

Sons, brothers, fathers, hufbands, tradefinen

clofe

In my complaint, and brand your fins in profe:
Yet I believe, as firmly as my creed,
In spite of all our wifdom, you proceed.
Our pride fo great, our paffion is so strong,
Advice to right confirms us in the wrong.

*Milton.

I hear you cry," this fellow's very odd.” When you chaftife, who would not kifs therod? But I've a charm your anger fhall controul, And turn your eyes with coldness on the vole.

The charms begin! To yonder flood of light
That burfts o'er gloomy Britain, turn your fight.
What guardian pow'ro'erwhelms your fouls with
Her deeds are precepts, her example law. [awe?
'Midft empire's charms, how Carolina's heart
Glows with the love of virtue and of art!
Her favour is diffus'd to that degree,
Excefs of goodness it has dawn'd on me:
When in my page, to balance num'rous faults,
Or godlike deeds were shown, or gen'rous
thoughts,

She finil'd, induftrious to be pleas'd, nor knew
From whom my pen the borrow'd luftre drew.
*Thus the majestic mother of mankind,
To her own charms moft amiably blind,
On the green margin innocently stood,
And gaz'd indulgent on the cryftal flood;
Survey'd the ftranger in the painted wave,
And, fmiling, prais'd the beauties which the gare,

+ In more than civil war, while patriots ftorm;
While genius is but cold, their paífion warm;
While public good aloft, in pomp they wield,
And private int'reft fculks behind the fhield;
While Mift and Wilkins rife in weekly might,
Make preffes groan, lead fenators to fight;
Exalt our coffee with lampoons, and treat
The pamper'd mob with minifters of ftate;
" While Até hot from hell makes heroes fhrink,
"Cries havock, and lets loofe the dogs of ink;"
Nor rank nor fex efcapes the gen'ral frown,
But ladies are ripp'd up, and cits knock'd down;
Tremendous force! where ev'n the victor bleeds;
And he deferves our pity that fucceeds;
Immortal Juvenal! and thou of France!
In your fam'd field my Satire dares advance;
But cuts herself a track, to you unknown,
Nor crops your laurel, but would raife her own;
A bold adventure! but a fafe one too!
For, though surpass'd, I am surpass'd by you.

Hence Gildon rails, the raven of the pit,
Who thrives upon the carcafes of wit;
And in art-loving Scarborough is feen
How kind a patron Polio might have been.
Pursuit of fame with pedants fills our schools,
And into coxcombs burnishes our fools;
Purfuit of fame makes folid learning bright,
And Newton lifts above a mortal height;
That key of nature, by whofe wit the clears
Her long, long fecrets of five thousand years.
Would you then fully comprehend the whole,
Why, and in what degrees, Pride sways the foul?
(For tho' in all not equally the reigns)
Awake to knowledge, and attend my ftrains.

Ye Doctors! hear the doctrine I difclofe,
As true as if 'twere writ in dulleft profe;
As if a letter'd dunce had faid " 'tis right,"
And imprimatur uther'd it to light.

To glorious deeds this paffion fires the mind;
And clofer draws the ties of humankind,
Confirms fociety; fince what we prize
As our chief bleffing muft from others rise.
Ambition in the truly noble mind
With fifter-virtue is for ever join'd;
As in fam'd Lucrece, who, with equal dread,
From guilt and fhame, by her laft conduct fled;
Her virtue long rebell'd with firin difdain,
And the fword pointed at her heart in vain ;
But, when the flave was threaten'd to be laid
Dead by her fide, her love of fame obey'd.`

In meaner minds Ambition works alone, But with fuch art puts Virtue's aspect on, That not more like in feature, and in mien,

The God and mortal in the comic fcene.
Falfe Julius, ambusht in this fair disguite,
Soon made the Roman liberties his prize.

No mafk in bafeft minds ambition wears,
But in full light pricks up her afs's ears;
All I have fung are inftances of this,
And prove my theme unfolded not amifs.

Ye vain! defift from your erroneous ftrife;
Be wife, and quit the falfe fubiime of life.
The true ambition there alone refides
Where justice vindicates, and wildom guides;
Where inward dignity joins outward ftate,"
Our purpose good, as our atchievement great;
Where public bleffings public praife attend,
Where glory is our motive, not our end. [view
Would't thou be fam'd! have thofe high deeds in
Brave men would act, tho' fcantial thould enfùe.

Behold a prince whom no fwoln thoughts inNo pride of thrones, no fever after fame; [flame; But when the welfare of mankind infpires, And death in view to dear-bought glory fires, Proud conqueft then, then regal pomps delight; Then crowns, then triumphs, iparkle in his fight; Tumult and noife are dear, which with them His people's bleffings to their ardent king: [bring But, when thofe great heroic motives ceafe, His fwelling foul fubfides to native peace; From tedious grandeur's faded charins withdraws, A fudden foe to fplendor and applause;

Greatly deferring his arrears of fame,
Till men and angels jointly fhout his name.
O pride celestial! which can pride disdain;
O bleft ambition! which can ne'er be vain.
From one fam'd Alpine hill, which props
the fky,

In whofe deep womb unfathom'd waters lie,
Here burst the Rhone and founding Po; there
In infant rills the Danube and the Rhine; [fhine
From the rich ftore one fruitful urn fupplies,
Whole kingdoms fmile, a thoufand harvests rife.
In Brunfwick fuch a fource the Muse adores,
Which public bleffings thro' half Europe pours,
When his heart burns with fuch a godlike aim,
Angels and George are rivals for the Fame;
George, who in foes can foft affections raife,
And charm envenom'd Satire into praise.

Nor human rage alone + his pow'r perceives, But the mad winds and the tumultuous waves. Even ftorms (Death's fierccft minifters!) forbear, And, in their own wild empire learn to spare. Thus nature's felf, fupporting man's decree, Stiles Britain's fov'reign, Sov'reign of the Sea. While fea and air great Brunfwick' fhook our ftate,

And fported with a king's and kingdom's fate,
Depriv'd of what the lov'd, and preft with fear
Of ever lofing what the held most dear,
How did Britannia, like + Achilles, weep,
And tell her forrows to the kindred deep!
Hang o'er the floods, and in devotion warm,
Strive for thee with the furge, and fight the
ftorm!

What felt thy Walpole, pilot of the realm ?
Our Palinurus § flept not at the helm,
His eye ne'er clos'd; long fince inur'd to wake,
And outwatch ev'ry ftar, for Brunswick's fake:
By thwarting paffions toft, by cares oppreft,
He found thy tempest pictur'd in his breast.
But now what joys that gloom of heat difpel,
No pow'rs of language-but his own can tell;
His own, which Nature and the Graces form
At will, to raife or huth the civil ftorm.

"No cocks with me to ruftic labour call, "From village on to village founding clear; "To tardy fwains no thrill-voic'd matron's "quall; [car; "No dogs, no babes, no wives, to stun your "No hammers thump; no horrid blackfinith 66 fear,

"Nonoify tradefmen your sweet slumbers start "With founds that are a mifery to hear; "But all is calm, as would delight the heart "Of Sybarite of old, all nature, and all art. "Here nought but candor reigns, indulgent [down. "Good natur'd lounging, faunt'ring up and They who are pleas'd themfelves, must al66 ways pleafe;

66

"eate,

"On others ways they never fquint a frown, "Nor heed what haps in hamlet or in town. "Thus, from the fource of tender indolence, "With milky blood the heart is overflown, "Is footh'd and fweeten'd by the focial fenfe; "For int'reft, envy, pride, and ftrife are banish'd

"hence.

"But fure it is of vanities moft vain, [tain." To toil for what you here untoiling may obHe ceas'd. But ftill thefr trembling cars retain'd The deep vibrations of his witching fong; That, by a kind of magic pow'r conftrain'd To enter in, pell-mell, the lift'ning throng. Heaps pour'd on heaps, and yet they flipp'dalong In filent cafe; as when bencath the beam Of fummer-moons, the diftant woods among, Or by fome flood all filver'd with the gleam, The foft-embodied fays through airy portal

ftream:

By the fmooth demon fo it order'd was, And here his baneful bounty firft began : Tho' lome there were who would not further And his alluring baits fufpected han. [pafs; The wife diftruft the too fair fpoken man. Yet thro' the gate they caft a wishful eye : Not to move on, forfooth, is all they can ; For, do their very beft, they cannot fly, But often each way look, and often forely sigh, When this the watchful wicked wizard faw, With fudden fpring he leap'd upon them strait And foon as touchi'd by his unhallow'd paw, They found themfelves within the curfed gate; Full hard to be repais'd like that of fate. Not ftronger were of old the giant-crew, Who fought to pull high Jove from regal state; Tho' feeble wretch he feem'd, of fallow hue, Certes, who bides his grafp, will that encounter

Wak'd by the croud, flow from his bench arofe
A comely fall-fpread porter, fwoln with fleep;
His calm, broad, thoughtlets afpect, breath'd
repofe,

And in fweet torpor he was plunged deep,
Ne could himself from ceafclcfs yawning keep;
While o'er his eyes the drowfy liquor ran,
Through which his half-wak'd foul would
faintly peep

Then taking his black ftaff, he call'd his man,
And rous'd hinfelfas much asroufe himself hecan.
The lad leap'd lightly at his mafter's call.
He was, to weet, a little roguish page,
Save fleep and play who mindednought at all,
Like mos the untaught ftriplings of his age.
This boy he kept each band to disengage,
Garters and buckles, tafk for him unfit,
But it becoming his grave perfonage,
And which his portly paunch would not per

mit;

So this fame limber page to all performed it. Meantime