On wing proportion'd to your quarry rise,
And stoop to earth, or soar among the skies. 280
Thus when a modifh folly you rehearse,
Free the expreffion, fimple be the verse.
In artless numbers paint th' ambitious Peer
That mounts the box, and shines a Charioteer :
In ftrains familiar fing the midnight toil 285
Of Camps and Senates difciplin'd by Hoyle;
Patriots and Chiefs, whofe deep defign invades
And carries off the captive King---of Spades!
Let SATIRE here in milder vigour shine,
And gayly graceful sport along the line;
Bid courtly fashion quit her thin pretence,
And fmile each Affectation into sense.

290

Not fo when Virtue by her Guards betray'd, Spurn'd from her Throne, implores the Mufe's

aid:

When crimes, which erft in kindred darkness lay, Rife frontlefs, and infult the eye of day; 296 Indignant Hymen veils his hallow'd fires, And white-rob'd Chastity with tears retires; When rank Adultery on the genial bed Hot from Cocytus rears her baleful head : 309 When private Faith and public Trust are fold, And Traitors barter Liberty for Gold;

When fell Corruption dark and deep, like fate,
Saps the foundation of a finking State:
When Giant-Vice and Irreligion rise,

305

On mountain'd falfehoods to invade the skies:
Then warmer numbers glow thro' SATIRE's page,
And all her fmiles are darken'd into rage:
On eagle-wing the gains Parnaffus' height,
Not lofty EPIC foars a nobler flight:
Then keener indignation fires her eye;
Then flash her lightnings, and her thunders fly;
Wide and more wide her flaming bolts are hurl❜d,
Till all her wrath involves the guilty World.

Yet SATIRE oft affumes a gentler mien, 315 And beams on Virtue's friends a smile ferene :* She wounds reluctant; pours her balm with joy ; Glad to commend where Worth attracts her eye. But chief, when Virtue, Learning, Arts decline, She joys to fee unconquer'd merit shine; 320 Where bursting glorious, with departing ray, True Genius gilds the close of Britain's day : With joy fhe fees the ftream of Roman art From MURRAY's tongue flow purer to the heart: Sees YORKE to Fame, e'er yet to Manhood known, And just to ev'ry Virtue but to his own:

326

310

Hears unftain'd CAM with gen'rous pride proclaim

A SAGE'S, CRITIC's, and a POET's name: Beholds, where WIDCOMBE's happy hills afcend, Each orphan'd Art and Virtue find a friend: 330 TO HAGLEY'S honour'd Shade directs her view; And culls each flow'r, to form a Wreath for You.

But tread with cautious ftep this dangerous ground,

Befet with faithlefs precipices round:

334

Truth be your guide: difdain Ambition's call; And if you fall with Truth, you greatly fall. 'Tis Virtue's native luftre that must shine ; The Poet can but set it in his line: And who unmov'd with laughter can behold

A fordid pebble meanly grac'd with gold? 340
Let real Merit then adorn your lays,
For Shame attends on prostituted praife:
And all your wit, your most distinguish'd art,
But makes us grieve you want an honeft heart.

Nor think the Mufe by SATIRE's Law confin'd: 345 She yields defcription of the nobleft kind.

Inferior art the Landskip may defign,
And paint the purple ev'ning in the line:
Her daring thought effays a higher plan;
Her hand delineates Paffion, pictures Man. 350
And great the toil, the latent foul to trace,
To paint the heart, and catch internal grace;
By turns bid Vice or Virtue strike our eyes,
Now bid a Wolfey, or a Cromwell rise ;
Now with a touch more facred and refin'd, 355
Call forth a CHESTERFIELD's or LONSDALE'S
mind.

Here sweet or strong may ev'ry Colour flow:
Here let the pencil warm, the canvass glow:
Of light and shade provoke the noble strife,
And wake each striking feature into life.

360

PART III.

HRO' Ages thus has SATIRE keenly shin'd, The Friend to Truth, to Virtue, and Mankind:

TH

Yet the bright flame from Virtue ne'er had fprung,
And Man was guilty ere the Poet fung.
This Mufe in filence joy'd each better Age, 365
Till glowing crimes had wak'd her into rage.
Truth faw her honest spleen with new delight,
And bade her wing her fhafts, and urge their

flight.

First on the Sons of Greece the prov'd her art,
And Sparta felt the fierce IAMBIC dart *. 370
TO LATIUM next, avenging SATIRE flew:
The flaming faulchion rough LUCILIUS + drew;
With dauntless warmth in Virtue's caufe engag'd,
And conscious Villains trembled as he rag'd.

NOTES.

* Archilochum proprio rabies armavit Iambo.

Enfe velut ftricto quoties Lucilius ardens Infremuit, rubet auditor cui frigida mens eft Criminibus, tacita fudant præcordia culpa.

HOR.

Juv. S. i.