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Still to his int'rest true, where-e'er he goes, 125
Thine, From ev'ry tongue flows harmony divine. These arts in vain qur rugged natives try, Strain out with fault'ring dilidence a lye, And gain a kick for aukward Battery.
Befides, with justice, this discerning age Admires their wond'rous talents for the sage: Well may they venture on the mimick's art, Who play from morn to night a borrow'd part; 135 Practis'd their maiter's notions to embrace, Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face ; With ev'ry wild abiurdity comply, And view each object with another's eye ; To shake with laughter ere the jest they hear, I to To pour
at will the counterfeited tear, And as their patron hints the cold or heat, To shake in dog-days, in December fiveat. How, when competitors like these contend, Can surly virtue hope to fix a friend? 145 Slaves that with serious impudence beguile, And lye without a blush, without a smile ; Exalt each trifle, ev'ry vice adore, Your taste in snuff, your judgement in a whore ; Can Balbo's eloquence applaud, and swear 150 He gropes
his breeches with a monarch's air. For arts like these prefer’d, admir’d, caress’d, They firit invade your table, then your breait ;
Explore your secrets with insidious art,
By numbers here from shame or censure free,
Has heaven reserv'd, in pity to the poor, 170 No pathless'walte, or unciscover'd shore ? No secret island in the boundless main ? No peaceful desart yet unclaim'd by SPAIN? Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore, And bear oppreffion's insolence no more. 175
This mournful truth is ev'ry where confess’d, Slow
WORTH, BY PRESS'D: But here more slow, where all are slaves to gold, Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold ; Where won by bribes, by flatteries implorid, 180 The groom retails the favours of his lord.
But hark! th' affrighted crowd's tumultous cries Roll through the streets and thunder to the skies: Rais'd from some pleasing dream of wealth and
power, Some pompos palace, or some blissful bow'r, 185 Aghaft you start, and scarce with aking fight Sustain th' approaching fire's tremendous light; Swift from pursuing horrors take your way, And leave your little all to flames a prey ; Then thro' the world a wretched vagrant roam, 190 For where can starving merit find a home? In vain your mournful narrative disclose, While all neglect, and most insult your woes. Should heaven's just bolts Orgilio's wealth con
found, And spread his flaming palace on the ground, 195 Swift o'er the land the dismal rumour fies, And publick mournings pacify the skies; The laureat cribe in servile verse relate, How virtue wars with persecuting fate ; With well-feign'd gratitude the pension’d band 200 Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land. See! while he builds, the gaudy vassals come, And crowd with sudden wealth the rising doine ; The price of boroughs and of fouls reftore, And raise his treasures higher than before :
205 Now bless'd with all the baubles of the great, The polith'd marble, and the shining plate,
Orgilio fees the golden pile aspire,
Could'It thou resign the park and play content, 210
Prepare for death, if here at night you roam,
Some fiery fop, with new commission vain,
Yet ev’n these heroes, mischievously gay, 230
In vain, these dangers paft, your doors you close, And hope the balmy blessings of repose : Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair, The midnight murd'rer bursts the faithless bar ; Invades the sacred hour of filent reit,
2.10 And plants, unseen, a dagger in your breat.
Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die, With hemp the gallo:vs and the fleet supply. Propose your schemes, ye fenatorian band, Whose ways and means support the finking land; Leit ropes be wanting in the tempting spring, To rig another convoy for the k-g.
A single jail, in ALFRED's golden reign, Could half the nation's criminals cɔntain ; Fair Justice then, without constraint ador'd,
250 Held high the steady scale, but deep'd the sword ; No spies were paid, no special juries known, Bleft age! but ah! how diff'rent from our own!
Much could I add, but see the boat at hand, The tide retiring, calls me from the land : 255 Farewel !-When youth, and health, and f rtune
spent, Thou Aly' for refuge to the wilds of Kent; And, tir'd like me with follies and with crimes, In angry numbers warn't succeeding times ; Then shall thy friend, nor thou refuse his aid, 260 Still foe to vice, forsake his Cambrian fhade ; In virtue's cause once more exert his rage, Thy fatire point, and animate thy page. VOL. II.