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His merits ballanc'd, you fhall find,
The laureate leaves him far behind.
Concannen, more afpiring bard,
Soars downwards deeper by a yard.
Smart Jemmy Moor with vigour drops,
The reft purfue as thick as hops.

With heads to points the gulph they enter,
Link'd perpendicular to the center;

And, as their heels elated rife,

Their heads attempt the nether skies.
O, what indignity and shame,

To proftitute the Mufe's name!

By flatt'ring, whom Heav'n defign'd
The plagues and fcourges of mankind;
Bred up in ignorance and floth,

And ev'ry vice that nurses both.

Fair Britain, in thy monarch bleft,
Whofe virtues bear the ftricteft teft;
Whom never faction could befpatter,
Nor minister nor poet flatter.
What juftice in rewarding merit!
What magnanimity of spirit!
What lineaments divine we trace
Through all his figure, mien, and face!
Though peace with olive bind his hands,
Confeft the conq'ring hero ftands.
Hydafpes, Indus, and the Ganges,
Dread from his hand impending changes.
From him the Tartar, and Chinese,
Short by the knees, intreat for peace.

The

The confort of his throne and bed

A perfect goddess born and bred,
Appointed fov'reign judge to fit
On learning, eloquence, and wit.
Our eldest hope, divine Jülus,
(Late, very late, O, may he rule us!)
What early manhood has he shown,
Before his downy beard was grown!
Then think what wonders will be done
By going on as he begun,

An heir for Britain to fecure

As long as fun and moon endure.

The remnant of the royal blood
Comes pouring on me like a flood.
Bright goddeffes, in number five;
Duke William, fweeteft prince alive.
Now fing the Minister of state,
Who fhines alone without a mate.
Obferve with what majestic port
This atlas ftands, to prop the court:
Intent the public debts to pay
Like prudent Fabius, by delay.
Thou great vicegerent of the king,
Thy praises ev'ry mufe fhall fing!
In all affairs thou fole director,

Of wit and learning chief protector;

Though small the time thou haft to spare,
The church is thy peculiar care.

Of pious prelates what a flock

You chufe to rule the fable flock?

You

You raise the honour of the peerage,
Proud to attend you at the steerage.
You dignify the noble race,
Content yourself with humbler place.
Now learning, valour, virtue, fense,
To titles give the fole pretence.
St. George beheld thee, with delight,
Vouchsafe to be an azure knight,
When on thy breast and fides herculean
He fixt the ftar and string cerulean.
Say, poet, in what other nation

Shone ever fuch a conftellation!

Attend, ye Popes, and Youngs, and Gays,
And tune your harps, and strow your bays:
Your panegyrics here provide:

You cannot err on Flattery's fide.
Above the stars exalt your style,
You ftill are low ten thousand mile.
On Lewis all his bards beftow'd,
Of incenfe, many a thousand load;
But Europe mortify'd his pride,
And swore the fawning rafcals ly'd.
Yet what the world refus'd to Lewis,
Applied to George, exactly true is.
Exactly true! invidious poet!
'Tis fifty thousand times below it.

Tranflate me now fome lines, if you can,

From Virgil, Martial, Ovid, Lucan.
They could all pow'r in Heav'n divide,

And do no wrong to either fide:

They

Give

and Jove an equal share.

They teach you how to split a hair,

Yet, why fhould we be lac'd fo strait?

I'll give my

butter-weight.

And reafon good; for many a year
Jove never intermeddled here:

Nor, though his priests be duly paid,
Did ever we defire his aid:

We now can better do without him,

Since Woolfton gave us arms to rout him.

** Cætera defiderantur.

OF

OF

THE USE OF RICHES.

This poem, as Mr. Pope tells us himself, coft much attention and labour; and, from the eafinefs that appears in it, one would be apt to think as much.

WHO

P. HO fhall decide, when Doctors difagree, And foundest Cafuifts doubt, like me?

you and

You hold the word, from Jove to Momus giv'n,
That man was made the ftanding jeft of Heav'n;
And gold but sent to keep the fools in play,
For fome to heap, and fome to throw away.

But I, who think more highly of our kind,
(And, furely, Heav'n and I are of a mind)
Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound,
Deep hid the shining mifchief under ground:
But when, by man's audacious labour, won,
Flam'd forth this rival to its Sire, the Sun,
Then careful Heav'n supply'd two forts of Men;
To fquander These, and Those, to hide agen.
Like doctors, thus, when much difpute has pafs'd,
We find our tenets just the same at last.
Both fairly owning, Riches, in effect,
No grace of Heav'n, or token of th' Elect;

VOL. I.

K

Giv'n

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