XII.

Pelham! 'tis thine with temp'rate zeal
To guard Britannia's public weal,
Attack'd on every part:

Her fatal difcords to compofe,
Unite her friends, difarm her foes,
Demands thy head and heart.
XIII.

When bold Rebellion fhook the land,
Ere yet from William's dauntleís hand

Her barbarous army fled;

When valour droop'd, and Wifdom fear'd, Thy voice expiring Credit heard,

And rais'd her languid head.

XIV.
Now by thy ftrong affifting hand,
Fix'd on a rock I see her stand,
Against whofe folid feet,

In vain, through every future age,
The loudeft, moft tempeftuous rage
Of angry war fhall beat.

T

HE court was met; the pris'ner brought;
The counsel with inftructions fraught;

And evidence prepar'd at large,
On oath, to vindicate the charge.

But first 'tis meet, where form denies
Poetic helps of fancy'd lies,

Gay metaphors, and figures fine,
And fimilies to deck the line;
'Tis meet (as we before have faid)
To call defcription to our aid.

Begin we then (as first 'tis fitting)
With the three Chiefs in judgment uitting.
Above the reft, and in the chair,
Sat Faction with diffembled air;
Her tongue was skill'd in fpecious lies,
And murmurs, whence diffentions rife ;

*George Lyttelton, Efq. afterwards Lord Lyttelton. The Perfian Letters of this nobleman were written under the character of Selim, which occafioned Mr. Moore to give him the fame name in this poem.

3

A fmiling mafk her features veil'd,
Her form the patriot's robe conceal'd;
With study'd blandishments the bow'd,
And drew the captivated crowd.
The next in place, and on the right,
Sat Envy, hideous to the fight;
Her fnaky locks, her hollow eyes,
And haggard form forbad difguife;
Pale difcontent and fullen hate
Upon her wrinkled forehead fat;

Her left-hand, clench'd, her cheek sustain'd
Her right (with many a murder stain'd)

A dagger clutch'd, in act to ftrike,
With starts of rage, and aim oblique.
Laft on the left was Clam.our feen,
Of ftature vaft, and horrid mien;
With bloated cheeks, and frantic eyes,
She fent her yellings to the skies;
Prepar'd with trumpet in her hand,
To blow fedition o'er the land.

With thefe, four more of leffer fame,
And humbler rank, attendant came;
Hypocrify with smiling grace,
And Impudence with brazen face,
Contention bold, with iron lungs,
And Slander with her hundred tongues.

The walls in sculptur'd tale were rich,
And ftatues proud (in many a nich)
Of chiefs, who fought in Faction's caufe,
And perish'd for contempt of laws.
The roof in vary'd light and shade,
The feat of Anarchy display'd.
Triumphant o'er a falling throne
(By emblematic figures known)
Confufion rag'd, and Luft obfcene,
And Riot with diftemper'd mien,
And Outrage bold, and Mifchief dire,
And Devastation clad in fire.
Prone on the ground a martial maid
Expiring lay, and groan'd for aid:
Her fhield with many a ftab was pierc'd,
Her laurels torn, her fpear revers'd;
And near her, crouch'd amidst the spoils,
A lion panted in the toils.

With look compos'd the pris'ner stood,
And modeft pride. By turns he view'd
The court, the counfel, and the crowd,
And with fubmiffive rev'rence bow'd.

Proceed we now, in humbler strains,
And lighter rhymes, with what remains.
Th' indictment grievously fet forth,
That Selim, loft to patriot worth,
(In company with one Will Pitt*,
And many more, not taken yet)
In Forty-five, the royal palace
Did enter, and to fhame grown callous,
Did then and there his faith forfake,
And did accept, receive, and take,
With mifchievous intent and base,
Value unknown, a certain place.
He was a fecond time indicted,
For that, by evil zeal excited,
With learning more than layman's fhare,
(Which parfons want, and he might spare)

Afterwards Earl of Chatham.

+ Mr. Lyttelton was appointed a Lord of the Treasury 25th Dec. 1744

In Letter to one Gilbert Weft,*
He, the faid Selim, did attest,
Maintain, support, and make affertion
Of certain points, from Paul's converfion,
By means whereof the faid apoftle
Did many an unbeliever jostle,
Starting unfashionable fancies,
And building truths on known romances.
A third charge ran, that knowing well
Wits only eat as pamphlets fell,
He, the faid Selim, notwithstanding,
Did fall to anfw'ring, fhaming, branding
Three curious Letters to the Whigst;
Making no reader care three figs
For any facts contain'd therein;
By which uncharitable fin

An author, modeft and deferving,
Was deftin'd to contempt and starving;
Against the king, his crown and peace,
And all the ftatutes in that cafe.

The pleader rofe with brief full charg'd,
And on the pris'ner's crimes enlarg'd-
But not to damp the Mufe's fire

With rhet'ric, fuch as courts require,
We'll try to keep the reader warm,
And fift the matter from the form.
Virtue and focial love, he said,
And honour from the land were fled;
That patriots now, like other folks,
Were made the but of vulgar jokes ;
While Oppofition dropp'd her creft,
And courted pow'r for wealth and rest.
Why fome folks laugh'd, and some folks rail'd,
Why fome fubmitted, fome affail'd,
Angy or pleas'd-all folv'd the doubt
With who were in, and who were out.
The fons of Clamour grew fo fickly,
They look'd for diffolution quickly;
Their Weekly Journals, finely written,
Were funk in privies all befhn ;
Old-England †, and the London-Evening,
Hardly a foul was found believing in;
And Caleb, once so bold and strong,
Was ftupid now, and always wrong.

Afk ye whence rofe this foul disgrace?
Why Selim has receiv'd a place,
And thereby brought the cause to shame;
Proving that People, void of blame,
Might ferve their country and their king,
By making both the self-same thing:
By which the credulous believ'd,
And others (by strange arts deceiv'd)
That Minifters were fometimes right,
And meant not to destroy us quite.
That bart'ring thus in ftate affairs,
He next muft deal in facred wares,
The clergy's rights divine invade,
And fmuggle in the gospel-trade;

Entitled, "Obfervations on the Converfion and Apoftleship of St. Paul. In a Letter to Gilbert Weft, Efq." 8vo. 1747.

† Entitled, "Three Letters to the Whigs; occafioned by the Letter to the Tories." 8vo. 1748.

An Oppofition Paper at that time published, in which Mr. Lyttelton was frequently abused.

Caleb D'Anvers, the name affumed by the writers of the Craftsman.

And all this zeal to re-instate
Exploded notions, out of date;
Sending old rakes to church in fhoals,
Like children, fniv'ling for their fouls;
And ladies gay, from fmut and libels,
To learn beliefs, and read their bibles;
Erecting conscience for a tutor,
To damn the prefent by the future :
As if to evils known and real
'Twas needful to annex ideal;
When all of human life we know
Is care, and bitterness, and woe,
With fhort tranfitions of delight,
To fet the fhatter'd spirits right.
Then why fuch mighty pains and care,
To make us humbler than we are?
Forbidding fhort-liv'd mirth and laughter,
By fears of what may come hereafter?
Better in ignorance to dwell;

None fear, but who believe a hell;
And if there fhould be one, no doubt,
Men of themselves would find it out.

But Selim's crimes, he faid, went further,
And barely stopp'd on this fide murther;
One yet remain'd to close the charge,
To which (with leave) he'd fpeak at large,
And, first, 'twas needful to premite,
That though so long (for reasons wife)
The prefs inviolate had stood,
Productive of the public good;
Yet still, too modest to abuse,

It rail'd at vice, but told not whose.
That great improvements, of late days,
Were made, to many an author's praise,
Who, not fo fcrupulously nice,
Proclaim'd the perfon with the vice;
Or gave, where vices might be wanted,
The name, and took the reft for granted.
Upon this plan, a Champion* rofe,
Unrighteous greatness to oppose,
Proving the man "inventus non eft,"
Who trades in pow'r, and still is honeft;
And (God be prais'd) he did it roundly,
Flogging a certain junto foundly.
But chief his anger was directed,
Where people least of all suspected;
And Selim, not fo ftrong as tall,
Beneath his grafp appear'd to fall.
But Innocence (as people say)
Stood by, and fav'd him in the fray.
By her affifted, and one Truth,
A bufy, prating, forward youth,
He rally'd all his strength anew,
And at the foe a Letter threw :
His weakest part the weapon found,
And brought him fenfelefs to the ground.
Hence Oppofition fled the field,

And Ignorance with her feven-fold fhield;
And well they might, for (things weigh'd fully)
The pris'ner with his Whore and Bully,
Muft prove for every foe too hard,
Who never fought with fuch a guard.

But Truth and Innocence, he faid,
Would stand him here in little stead;

* Author of the Letters to the Whigs. + Probably, "A Congratulatory Letter to Selim on the Letters to the Whigs." Svo. 1748.

For they had evidence on oath,
That would appear too hard for both.

Of witnesses a fearful train
Came next, th' indictments to sustain ;
Detraction, Hatred, and Diftrust,
And Party, of all foes the worst,
Malice, Revenge, and Unbelief,
And Difappointment worn with grief,
Difhonour foul, unaw'd by fhame,
And every fiend that Vice can name.
All these in ample form depos'd,
Each fact the triple charge disclos'd,
With taunts and gibes of bitter fort,
And asking vengeance from the court.
The pris'ner faid in his defence,
That he indeed had small pretence
To foften facts fo deeply fworn,
But would for his offences mourn;
Yet more he hop'd than bare repentance
Might ftill be urg'd to ward the sentence.
That he had held a place fome years,
He own'd with penitence and tears,
But took it not from motives base,
'Th' indictment there mistook the cafe;
And though he had betray'd his trust
In being to his country just,
Neglecting Faction and her friends,
He did it not for wicked ends,

But that complaints and feuds might cease,
And jarring parties mix in peace.

That what he wrote to Gilbert Weft,
Bore hard against him, he confefs'd;
Yet there they wrong'd him; for the fact is,
He reafon'd for Belief, not Practice;
And People might believe, he thought,
Though Practice might be deemed a fault.
He either dreamt it, or was told,
Religion was rever'd of old,
That it gave breeding no offence,
And was no foe to wit and fense;
But whether this was truth, or whim,
He would not fay; the doubt with him
(And no great harm he hop'd) was, how
Th' enlighten'd world would take it now:
If they admitted it, 'twas well;
If not, he never talk'd of hell;

Nor even hop'd to change men's measures,
Or frighten ladies from their pleasures.
One accufation, he confefs'd,

Had touch'd him more than all the rest;
Three Patriot-Letters, high in fame,
By him o'erthrown, and brought to shame.
And though it was a rule in vogue,

If one man call'd another rogue,
The party injur'd might reply,
And on his foe retort the lie;
Yet what accru'd from all his labour,
But foul difhonour to his neighbour ?
And he's a most unchriftian elf,
Who others damns to fave himself.
Bcfides, as all men knew, he faid,
Thofe Letters only rail'd for bread;
And hunger was a known excuse
For prostitution and abuse:

A guinea, properly apply'd,

Had made the Writer change his fide;

He wish'd he had not cut and carv'd him,

And own'd, he should have bought, not starv'd him.

The court, he faid, knew all the reft,
And must proceed as they thought best;
Only he hop'd fuch refignation
Would plead fome little mitigation ;
And if his character was clear
From other faults (and friends were near,
Who would, when call'd upon, attest it)
He did in humbleft form request it,
To be from punishment exempt,
And only fuffer their contempt.

The pris'ner's friends their claim preferr'd,
In turn demanding to be heard,
Integrity and Honour swore,
Benevolence, and twenty more,
That he was always of their party,
And that they knew him firm and hearty,
Religion, fober dame, attended,
And, as fhe could, his caufe befriended.
She faid, 'twas fince he came from college,
She knew him introduc'd by Knowledge:
The man was modeft and fincere,
Nor farther could she interfere.
The mufes begg'd to interpofe;
But Envy with loud hiffings rofe,
And call'd them women of ill fame,
Liars, and proftitutes to shame;
And faid, to all the world 'twas known,
Selim had had them every one.

The pris'ner blufh'd, the Mufes frown'd,
When filence was proclaim'd around,
And Faction rifing with the reft,
In form the pris'ner thus addrefs'd.

You, Selim, thrice have been indicted :
Firft, that by wicked pride excited,
And bent your country to disgrace,
You have receiv'd, and held a Place:
Next, Infidelity to wound,

You've dar'd, with arguments profound,
To drive Freethinking to a stand,
And with Religion vex the land:
And lastly in contempt of right,
With horrid and unnat❜ral spite,
You have an Author's fame o'erthrown,
Thereby to build and fence your own.

Thefe crimes fucceffive, on your trial,
Have met with proofs beyond denial;
To which yourself, with fhame, conceded,
And but in mitigation pleaded.
Yet that the justice of the court
May fuffer not in men's report,
Judgment a moment I fufpend,
To reafon as from friend to friend.

And first, that You, of all mankind,
With Kings and Courts should stain your mind!
You! who were Oppofition's lord!

Her nerves, her finews, and her fword!

That You at last, for fervile ends,

Should wound the bowels of her friends!

Is aggravation of offence,

That leaves for mercy no pretence.

Yet more For You to urge your hate,
And back the Church, to aid the State!
For You to publish such a Letter!
You who have known Religion better!

For You, I fay, to introduce

The fraud again!-there's no excuse.
And laft of all, to crown your fhame,
Was it for you to load with blame

The writings of a Patriot-Youth, And fummon Innocence and Truth

To prop your cause ?Was this for You?--
But Juftice does your crimes purfue;
And fentence now alone remains,
Which thus, by Me, the court ordains:

"That you return from whence you came, "There to be ftript of all your fame "By vulgar hands; That once a week "Old-England pinch you till you squeak ; "That ribbald Pamphlets do pursue you, "And lies and murmurs, to undo you. "With every foe that Worth procures, "And only Virtue's friends be Yours."

But tell me, David, is it true?

Lord help us! what will fome folks do?
How will they curse this stranger!

What! fairly taken in for life!
A fober, ferious, wedded wife!

O fie upon you, Ranger!
III.

The clergy too have join'd the chat;
"A papift-Has be thought of that?
"Or means he to convert her?!"
Troth, boy, unless your zeal be ftout,
The nymph may turn Your faith about,
By arguments experter.

IV.

The ladies, pale and out of breath,
Wild as the witches in Macbeth,

Ask if the "deed be done!"

O, David! liften to my lay!
I'll prophefy the things they'll fay;

For tongues, you know, will run.
V.

"And pray, what other news d' ye hear?
"Marry'd-But don't you think, my dear,
"He's growing out of fashion?
"People may fancy what they will,
"But Quin's the only actor ftill,

To touch the tender passion.

VI.

"Nay, madam, did you mind, last night, "His Archer? Not a line on't right!

"I thought I heard fome hiffes.

"Good God! if Billy Mills, thought I, "Or Billy Havard would but try,

“They'd beat him all to pieces.

IX.

"And then there's Belmont, to be fure"Oho! my gentle Neddy Moore !

"How does my good lord-mayor? "And have you left Cheapfide, my dear! "And will you write again next year, "To fhew your fav'rite player? X.

"But Merope, we own, is fine, "Eumenes charms in every line;

"How prettily he vapours! "So gay his dress, so young his look, "One would have fworn 'twas Mr. Cook, "Or Mathews, cutting capers."

XI.

Thus, David, will the ladies flout,
And councils hold at every rout,
To alter all your plays;
Yates fhall be Benedict next year,
Macklin be Richard, Tafwel Lear,
And Kitty Clive be Bayes.
XII.

Two parts they readily allow
Are yours; but not one more, they vow;
And thus they close their spite:
You will be Sir John Brute, they say,
A very Sir John Brute all day,
And Fribble all the night.

XIII.

But tell me, fair ones, is it fo?

"You all did love him once *," we know; What then provokes your gall?

Forbear to rail-I'll tell you why;
Quarrels may come, or madam die,
And then there's hope for all.
XIV.

And now a word or two remains,
Sweet Davy, and I close my strains :
Think well ere you engage;
Vapours and ague-fits may come,
And matrimonial claims at home,
Un-nerve you for the stage.
XV.
But if you find your spirits right,
Your mind at eafe, your body tight,
Take her; you can't do better:
A pox upon the tattling Town!
The fops that join to cry her down
Would give their ears to get her.

* Julius Cæfar.

But the first was too great, and the last was too good,
And as for the reft, fhe might get whom the cou'd.
Away hurried Fortune, perplex'd and half mad,
But her promife was pafs'd, and a wife must be had;
She travers'd the town from one corner to t'other,
Now knocking at one door, and then at another.
The girls curtfy'd low as the look'd in their faces,
And bridled and primm'd with abundance of graces;
But this was coquettish, and that was a prude,
One ftupid and dull, t'other noify and rude;
A third was affected, quite careless a fourth,
With prate without meaning, and pride without
worth;

A fifth, and a fixth, and a seventh were fuch
As either knew nothing or something too much-
In short as they pass'd, the to all had objections;
The gay wanted thought, the good-humour'd affec-
tions,

The prudent were ugly, the fenfible dirty,

When Fortune faw this fhe began to look filly,

ture;

"His bags are fo full, and fuch praises his due, "That the like was ne'er known-and all owing to you;

"But why won't you make him quite happy for life, "And to all you have done add the gift of a wife ?" Says Fortune, and fmil'd, "Madam Envy, God fave ye!

"But why always fneering at me and poor Davy? "I own that fometimes, in contempt of all rules, "I lavish my favours on blockheads and fools; "But the cafe is quite different here, I aver it, "For David ne'er knew me, 'till brought me by Merit,

"And yet to convince you-nay, Madam, no hiffes"Good-manners at leaft-fuch behaviour as this is-!"

(For mention but Merit, and Envy flies out With a hifs and a yell that would filence a rout. But Fortune went on)" To convince you, I say, "That I honour your scheme, I'll about it to day; "The man fhall be marry'd, fo pray now be easy, "And Garrick for once fhall do fomething to please ye."

So faying, the rattled her wheel out of fight,
While Envy walk'd after, and grinn'd with delight.
It seems 'twas a trick that the long had been brewing,
To marry poor David, and fo be his ruin:
For Slander had told her the creature lov'd pelf,
And car'd not a fig for a foul but himself;
From thence the was fure, had the Devil a daughter,
He'd fnap at the girl, fo 'twas Fortune that brought
ber:

And then should her temper be fullen or haughty,
Her flesh too be frail, and incline to be naughty,
"Twould fret the poor fellow fo out of his reason,
That Barry and Quin would fet fashions next feafon.
But Fortune, who faw what the Fury defign'd,
Refolv'd to get David a wife to his mind:
Yet afraid of herself in a matter fo nice,
She vifited Prudence, and begg'd her advice.
The nymph fhook her head when the bufinefs fhe
knew,

And said that her female acquaintance were few;
That excepting Miss R * * *—O, yes, there was one,
A friend of that lady's, the visited none;

"But he's gone to undrefs; by-and-by is as well"I'll fhew you a fight that you'll fancy uncommon, "Wit, beauty, and goodness, all met in a woman; "A heart to no folly or mifchief inclin'd "A body all grace, and all sweetness a mind."

"O, pray let me fee her," fays Fortune, and fmil'd,

"Do but give her to me, and I'll make her my child

"But who, my dear, who?-for you have not told yet"—

"Who indeed, fays my lady, if not Violette?

The words were scarce spoke when she enter'd the

room;

A blush at the stranger ftill heighten'd her bloom;
So humble her looks were, fo mild was her air,
That Fortune, aftonifh'd, fat mute in her chair.
My lady rofe up, and with countenance bland,
"This is Fortune, my dear," and prefented her

hand:

The goddess embrac'd her, and call'd her her own,
And, compliments over, her errand made krown.
But how the fweet girl colour'd, flutter'd, and
trembled,

How oft the faid no, and how ill fhe diffembled;
Or how little David rejoic'd at the news,
And fwore, from all others, 'twas her he would chufe;