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As ever warm and bold, be ever just :
Nor court applause in these degen'rate days :
The Villain's cenfure is extorted praise.
ARE nobly then: But confcious of
But chief, be fteady in a noble end,
And shew mankind that Truth has yet a friend.
'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write, 175
As Foplings grin to fhow their teeth are white:
To brand a doubtful folly with a smile,
Or madly blaze unknown defects, is vile:
'Tis doubly vile, when, but to prove your art, You fix an arrow in a blameless heart.
O loft to honour's voice, O doom'd to shame,
Thou Fiend accurs'd, thou Murderer of Fame!
Fell Ravisher, from Innocence to tear
That name, than liberty, than life more dear!
Where shall thy baseness meet its just return! 185
Or what repay thy guilt, but endless scorn?
And know, immortal Truth shall mock thy toil;
Immortal Truth shall bid the shaft recoil;
With rage retorted, wing the deadly dart ;
And empty all its poifon in thy heart.
With caution next, the dang'rous pow'r apply;
An eagle's talon asks an eagle's eye :
Let SATIRE then her proper object know,
And ere she strike, be fure fhe ftrike a foe.
Nor fondly deem the real fool confeft,
Because blind Ridicule conceives a jest:
Before whofe altar Virtue oft hath bled,
And oft a destin'd Victim fhall be led:
Lo, Shaftfb'ry rears her high on Reafon's throne,
And loads the Slave with honours not her own: 200
Big-fwoln with folly, as her smiles provoke,
Prophaneness spawns, pert Dunces nurse the joke!
Come, let us join a while this titt'ring crew,
And own the Ideot Guide for once is true;
Deride our weak forefathers' musty rule, 205
Who therefore fmil'd, because they faw a Fool;
Sublimer logic now adorns our isle,
We therefore fee a Fool, because we fmile.
Truth in her gloomy Cave why fondly feek?
Lo, gay fhe fits in Laughter's dimple cheek: 210
Contemns each furly academic foe,
And courts the spruce Freethinker and the Beau.
Dadalian arguments but few can trace,
But all can read the language of grimace.
Hence mighty Ridicule's all-conqu'ring hand 215
Shall work Herculean wonders thro' the Land:
Bound in the magic of her cob-web chain,
You, mighty WARBURTON, shall rage in vain,
In vain the trackless maze of Truth
And lend th❜informing Clue to erring Man : 220
No more fhall Reason boast her pow'r divine,
Her Base eternal fhook by Folly's mine!
Truth's facred Fort th' exploded laugh shall win;
And Coxcombs vanquish BERKLEY by a grin.
But you, more fage, reject th' inverted rule, 225
That Truth is e'er explor'd by Ridicule :
On truth, on falfhood let her colours fall,
She throws a dazzling glare alike on all ;
As the gay Prism but mocks the flatter'd eye,
And gives to ev'ry object ev'ry dye.
Beware the mad Advent'rer: bold and blind
She hoists her fail, and drives with ev'ry wind;
Deaf as the storm to finking Virtue's groan,
Nor heeds a Friend's deftruction, or her own.
Let clear-ey'd Reason at the helm prefide, 235
Bear to the wind, or ftem the furious tide;
Then Mirth may urge, when Reason can explore, This point the way, that waft us glad to shore.
Tho' distant Times may rife in SATIRE's page, Yet chief 'tis Her's to draw the prefent Age: 240 With Wisdom's luftre, Folly's fhade contrast, And judge the reigning Manners by the past: Bid Britain's Heroes (awful Shades!) arise, And ancient Honour beam on modern Vice: Point back to minds ingenuous, actions fair, 245 Till the Sons blush at what their Fathers were; Ere yet 'twas beggary the great to trust; Ere yet 'twas quite a folly to be just; When low-born Sharpers only dar'd a lie, Or falfify'd the card, or cogg'd the dye; 250 Ere Lewdness the ftain'd garb of Honour wore, Or Chastity was carted for the Whore ; Vice flutter'd, in the plumes of Freedom drefs'd; Or public Spirit was the public jest.
Be ever, in a juft expreffion, bold, Yet ne'er degrade fair SATIRE to a Scold: Let no unworthy mien her form debase, But let her smile, and let her frown with grace:
In mirth be temp'rate, temp'rate in her fpleen;
Nor, while fhe preaches modefty, obfcene. 260
Deep let her wound, not rankle to a fore,
Nor call his Lordship ---, her Grace a
The Mufe's charms refiftless then affail,
When wrapt in Irony's tranfparent veil :
Her beauties half conceal'd, the more furprize,
And keener luftre sparkles in her eyes.
Then be your line with fharp encomiums grac'd:
Style Clodius honourable, Bufa chafte.
Dart not on Folly an indignant eye : Who e'er difcharg'd Artillery on a Fly ? 270 Deride not Vice: Abfurd the thought and vain, To bind the Tiger in fo weak a chain.
Nay more: when flagrant crimes your laughter
The Knave exults: to fimile is to approve.
The Muse's labour then fuccefs fhall crown, 275
When Folly feels her smile, and Vice her frown.
Know next what measures to each Theme belong,
And fuit your thoughts and numbers to your