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HEN fimple Macer, now of high renown,
First fought a Poet's Fortune in the Town,



MACER:] Dr. Warton thinks this character was intended for J. Moore Smith; but it feems to me more likely that Phillips, Pope's redoubted rival in Pastoral, was intended. My reasons for thinking fo are, he is elfewhere called lean Phillips,

"Lean Phillips and fat Johnson.”

"Macer" certainly alludes to this. He began his literary career with worshipping "Steel" and Addison. He "borrow'd" a play from Voltaire, the Diftreft Mother; "Simplicity," is ap. plied to the "Paftorals," and "Tranflated Suit," to the tranflation of the Perfian Tales:

"And turns a Perfian tale for half-a crown!” I will give the reader, however, Warton's opinion.

VER. 1. When fimple Macer,] Said to be the character of James Moore Smith, author of the Rival Modes, a comedy, in 1726. He pilfered verses from Pope. He joined in a political paper with the Duke of Wharton, called The Inquifitor, written with such violence against government, that he was foon obliged to drop it. This character was first printed in the Mifcellanies of Swift and Pope 1727, concerning which the following anecdote is tran scribed from Dr. Birch's manuscripts in the British Museum:

"Auguft 17, 1749. Mr. George Faulkner, of Dublin, told me, that Dr. Swift had long conceived a mean opinion of Mr. Pope, on account of his jealous, peevish, avaricious temper. The Doctor gave Mr. Pope the property of his Gulliver, which he fold the copy of for three hundred pounds; and gave up to him, in 1727, his fhare of the copy of the three volumes of their Miscellanies, which came to one hundred and fifty pounds. The Doctor was

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'Twas all th' Ambition his high foul could feel,
To wear red Stockings, and to dine with Steel.
Some Ends of verse his betters might afford,
And gave the harmless fellow a good word.
Set up with thefe, he ventur❜d on the Town,
And with a borrow'd Play, out-did poor Crown.
There he stop'd fhort, nor fince has writ a tittle,
But has the wit to make the most of little :
Like stunted hide-bound Trees, that just have got
Sufficient Sap at once to bear and rot.

Now he begs Verse, and what he gets commends,
Not of the Wits his foes, but Fools his friends.

So fome coarse Country Wench, almost decay'd, Trudges to town, and first turns Chambermaid; 16 Aukward




angry with Mr. Pope for his fatire upon Mr. Addison, whom the former esteemed as an honeft, generous, and friendly man. Worfdale the painter was employed by Mr. Pope to go to Curl in the habit of a clergyman, and fell him the printed copies of his LetMr. Pope fent to Ireland to Dr. Swift, by Mr. Gerrard, an Irish gentleman, then at Bath, a printed copy of their letters, with an anonymous letter, which occafioned Dr. Swift to give Mr. Faulkner leave to reprint them at Dublin, though Mr. Pope's Edition was published first."


I would obferve, ou this anecdote, that it is not very probable that Swift fhould condemn Pope's Verfes on Addison, as they were first printed in the Mifcellanies, which publication was their joint work; and the verfes themfelves are mentioned in the preface to these Miscellanies.


VER. 4. To wear red Stockings,] I remember old Demoivre told me, about fifty years ago, that all he remembered of Corneille was, that he had feen him in red flockings at the theatre.


Aukward and fupple, each devoir to pay;
She flatters her good Lady twice a day;
Thought wond'rous honeft, tho' of mean degree,
And strangely lik'd for her Simplicity:

In a tranflated Suit, then tries the Town,
With borrow'd Pins, and Patches not her own :
But just endur'd the winter fhe began,

And in four months a batter'd Harridan.

Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and shrunk,
To bawd for others, and go fhares with Punk.





How much, egregious Moore, are we
Deceiv'd by fhews and forms!
Whate'er we think, whate'er we fee,
All Humankind are Worms.

Man is a very Worm by birth,

Vile, reptile, weak, and vain!
A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then fhrinks to earth again.

That Woman is a Worm, we find

E'er fince our Grandame's evil;
She first convers'd with her own kind,
That ancient Worm, the Devil.

The Learn'd themselves we Book-worms name,
The Blockhead is a Slow-worm

The Nymph whose tail is all on flame,
Is aptly term'd a Glow-worm.

The Fops are painted Butterflies,
That flutter for a day;

First from a Worm they take their rife,
And in a Worm decay.


The Flatterer an Earwig grows;

Thus Worms fuit all conditions; Mifers are Muck-worms, Silk-worms Beaus, And Death-watches Physicians.

That Statesmen have the Worm, is feen,
By all their winding play;

Their Confcience is a Worm within,
That gnaws them night and day.

Ah Moore! thy fkill were well employ'd,
And greater gain would rife,

If thou couldst make the Courtier void
The worm that never dies!

O learned Friend of Abchurch-Lane,
Who fett'ft our entrails free!
Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,
Since Worms shall eat ev'n thee.

Our Fate thou only canft adjourn

Some few short years, no more!
Ev'n Button's Wits to Worms shall turn,

Who Maggots were before.

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