140 What shall each spur-gall'd hackney of the day, When Paxton gives him double pots and pay, Or each new-pension'd sycophant, pretend To break my windows if I treat a friend; Then wisely plead, to me they meant no hurt, But 'twas my guest at whom they threw the dirt? Sure, if I spare the minister, no rules Of honour bind me, not to maul his tools; Sure, if they cannot cut, it may be said His saws are toothless, and his hatchet's lead. It anger'd Turenne, once upon a day, To see a footman kick'd that took his pay; But when he heard the affront the fellow gave, Knew one a man of honour, one a knave ;The prudent general turn'd it to a jest, 150 And begg'd he'd take the pains to kick the rest : Which not at present having time to do F. Hold, sir! for God's sake, where's the affront to you? * Against your worship when had Selkirk writ? came: Whoever borrow'd, could not be to blame, 171 * A line in an epistle to Sir R. Walpole, by Lord Melcombe. Lord Hervey, alluding to his painting himself. If one, through nature's bounty or his lord's, 180 P. So does flattery mine And all your courtly civet-cats.can vent, Perfume to you, to me is excrement. 191 But hear me further: Japhet, 'tis agreed, yours; Mine, as a foe profess'd to false pretence, Who think a coxcomb's honour like his sense; 200 P. So proud, I am no slave: So impudent, I own myself no knave: Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, 210 Yet touch'd and shamed by ridicule alone. O sacred weapon, left for truth's defence ! Sole dread of folly, vice, and insolence! To all but heaven-directed hands denied ; The Muse may give thee, but the gods must guide. Reverent I touch thee, but with honest zeal ; To rouse the watchmen of the public weal; To virtue's work provoke the tardy Hall, And goad the prelate slumbering in his stall. Ye tinsel insects! whom a court maintains, 220 That count your beauties only by your stains, Spin all your cobwebs o'er the eye of day! The Muse's wing shall brush you all away; All his grace preaches, all his lordship sings, All that makes saints of queens, and gods of kings; All, all but truth, drops dead-born from the press, Like the last Gazette, or the last address. When black ambition stains a public cause, A monarch's sword when mad vain-glory draws, Not Waller's wreath can hide the nation's scar, Nor Boileau turn the feather to a star. 231 Not so, when diadem'd with rays divine, Touch'd with the flame that breaks from Virtue's shrine, Her priestess Muse forbids the good to die, And opes the temple of eternity. There, other trophies deck the truly brave, Far other stars than *** and *** wear,+ And may descend to Mordington ‡ from Stair; § *The chief herald at arms. According to some, George II. and Frederick Prince of Wales are here intended; according to others, Kent and Grafton. A Scottish nobleman, who at last kept a gaming-house in Covent Garden. & John Dalrymple, Earl of Stair, Knight of the Thistle. Such as on Hough's* unsullied mitre shine, 240 And bark at honour not conferr'd by kings; F. Alas! alas! pray end what you began, * Dr. John Hough, the intrepid President of Magdalen College, Oxford, who resisted the attempts of James II. to introduce popery into his college. In the next reign he was made Bishop of Worcester. (See Pope's Epigram on him.) + Lord Digby. IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS. I. CHAUCER. WOMEN ben full of ragerie, Yet swinken nat sans secresie. 20 |