Till, grown more frugal in his riper days,
He paid fome bards with port, and some with praise,
To fome a dry rehearsal was affign'd,
And others (harder still) he paid in kind.
Dryden alone (what wonder?) came not nigh,
Dryden alone efcap'd this judging eye:
But still the Great have kindness in reserve,
He help'd to bury whom he help'd to starve.
May fome choice patron blefs each grey goofe
May every Bavius have his Bufo ftill!
So when a Statesman wants a day's defence,
Or Envy holds a whole week's war with Senfe,
Or fimple pride for flattery makes demands,
May dunce by dunce be whistled off my hands!
Bleft be the Great! for those they take away,
And those they left me; for they left me Gay :
Left me to fee neglected Genius bloom,
Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb :
Of all thy blameless life the fole return
My Verfe, and Queensberry weeping o'er thy urn! 260 Oh let me live my own, and die so too!
(To live and die is all I have to do :)
Maintain a Poet's dignity and ease,
And fee what friends, and read what books I please:
Above a Patron, though I condefcend
Sometimes to call a Minifter my friend.
I was not born for Courts or great affairs:
I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers;
Can fleep without a Poem in my head,
Nor know, if Dennis be alive or dead.
Why am I ask'd what next shall see the light?
Heavens! was I born for nothing but to write?
Has Life no joys for me? or (to be grave)
Have I no friend to serve, no foul to fave?
"I found him clofe with Swift-Indeed? no doubt "(Cries prating Balbus) fomething will come out." 'Tis all in vain, deny it as I will.
"No, fuch a Genius never can lie still;"
And then for mine obligingly mistakes
The first Lampoon Sir Will or Bubo makes.
Poor guiltless I! and can I chufe but smile,
When every Coxcomb knows me by my Style?
After ver. 270. in the MS.
Friendships from youth I fought, and feek them ftill:
Fame, like the wind, may breathe where'er it will.
The world I knew, but made it not my school,
And in a course of flattery liv'd no fool.
After ver. 282. in the MS.
P. What if I fing Auguftus, great and good?
A. You did fɔ lately, was it understood?
Be nice no more, but, with a mouth profound,
As rumbling Dennis or a Norfolk hound;
With George and Frederic roughen every verse,
Then fmooth up all, and Caroline rehearse.
P. No-the high task to lift up Kings to Gods,
Leave to Court fermons, and to birth-day Odes.
On themes like thefe, fuperior far to thine,
Let laurel'd Cibber and great Arnal shine.
Curst be the verfe, how well foe'er it flow,
That tends to make one worthy man my foe,
Give Virtue scandal, Innocence a fear,
Or from the foft-ey'd Virgin steal a Tear!
But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's peace,
Infults fall'n Worth, or Beauty in distress,
Who loves a Lie, lame Slander helps about,
Who writes a Libel, or who copies out :.
That Fop, whose pride affects a patron's name,
Yet abfent, wounds an author's honest fame :
Who can your merit selfishly approve,
And fhow the fenfe of it without the love;
Who has the vanity to call you friend,
Yet wants the honour, injur'd, to defend;
Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you say,
And, if he lie not, must at least betray:
Who to the Dean and filver bell can fwear,
And fees at Cannons what was never there;
Who reads, but with a luft to misapply,
Make Satire a Lampoon, and Fiction Lie.
A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,
But all fuch babbling blockheads in his ftead.
Let Sporus tremble-A. What? that thing of filk,
Sporus, that mere white curd of Afs's milk?
Satire or fenfe, alas! can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
Why write at all?-A. Yes, filence if you keep,
The Town, the Court, the Wits, the Dunces weep.
P. Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,
This painted child of dirt, that stinks and ftings; 310
Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,
Yet wit ne'er taftes, and beauty ne'er enjoys:
So well-bred fpaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the game they dare not bite.
Eternal fmiles his emptiness betray,
As fhallow ftreams run dimpling all the way,
Whether in florid impotence he speaks,
And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet fqueaks;
Or at the car of Eve, familiar Toad,
Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,
In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,
Or fpite, or fmut, or rhymes, or blafphemies.
His wit all fee-faw, between that and this,
Now high, now low, now mafter up, now mifs,
And he himself one vile Antithefis.
Amphibious thing! that, acting either part,
The trifling head! or the corrupted heart,
Fop at the toilet, flatterer at the board,
Now trips a Lady, and now ftruts a Lord.
Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,
A Cherub's face, a reptile all the rest.
Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will truft,
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
Not Fortune's worshiper, nor Fashion's fool,
Not Lucre's madman, nor Ambition's tool,
Not proud, nor fervile; be one Poet's Praife,
That, if he pleas'd, he pleas'd by manly ways:
That Flattery, even to Kings, he held a fhame,
And thought a Lie in verfe or profe the fame,
That not in Fancy's maze he wander'd long,
But stoop'd to Truth, and moraliz'd his song:
That not for Fame, but Virtue's better end,
He ftood the furious foe, the timid friend,
The damning critic, half-approving wit,
The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit;
Laugh'd at the lofs of friends he never had,
The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the mad;
The diftant threats of vengeance on his head,
The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed;
The tale reviv'd, the lie fo oft o'erthrown,
Th' imputed trash, and dulness not his own;
The morals blacken'd when the writings 'scape,
The libel'd perfon, and the pictur'd shape;
Abuse, on all he lov'd, or lov'd him, spread,
A friend in exile, or a father dead;
The whisper, that, to greatness still too near,
Perhaps, yet vibrates on his Sovereign's ear→
Welcome for thee, fair Virtue! all the paft:
For thee, fair Virtue! welcome ev'n the last!
A. But why infult the poor, affront the great?
P. A knave's a knave, to me, in every state:
Alike my scorn, if he fucceed or fail,
Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jail,
A hireling fcribler, or a hireling peer,
Knight of the poft corrupt, or of the shire;
If on a Pillory, or near a Throne,
He gain his Prince's ear, or lose his own.
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