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Wives wonder that their conduct I condemn, Thus pleads the Devil's fair apologist,
And ask, what kindred is a spouse to them? And, pleading, safely enters on his list.

What swarms of amorous grandmothers I see ! Let angel-forms angelic truths maintain ; And misses, ancient in iniquity!

Nature disjoins the beauteous and profane. What blasting whispers, and what loud declaiming! For what 's true beauty, but fair virtue's face? What lying, drinking, bawding, swearing, gaming ! Virtue made visible in outward grace? Friendship so cold, such warm incontinence; She, then, that 's haunted with an impious mind Such griping avarice, such profuse expense; The more she charms, the more she sáuks m. Such dead devotion, such a zeal for crimes;

kind. Such licens’d ill, such masquerading times ;

But charms decline : the fair long sigils keep Such venal faith, such misapplied applause ; They sleep no more! Quadrille has murder'd sers Such flatter'd guilt, and such inverted laws! “ Poor K-p!" cries Livia ; " I have not been tben

Such dissolution through the whole I find, These two nights; the poor creature will desse 'T is not a world, but chaos of mankind.

I hate a crowd - but to do good, you knox Since Sundays have no balls, the well-dress'd belle And people of condition should bestow." Shines in the pew, but smiles to hear of Hell ; Convinc'd, o'ercome, to K-p's grare matrons ten, And casts an eye of sweet disdain on all

Now set a daughter, and now stake a son ; Who listen less to Collins than St. Paul.

Let health, fame, temper, beauty, fortune, fis; Atheists have been but rare; since Nature's birth, And beggar half their race - through charity. Till now, she-atheists ne'er appear'd on Earth. Immortal were we, or else mortal quite, Ye men of deep researches, say, whence springs I less should blame this criminal delight: This daring character, in timorous things?

But since the gay assembly's gayest room Who start at feathers, from an insect fly,

Is but an upper story to some tomb, A match for nothing - but the Deity.

Methinks, we need not our short being shun, But, not to wrong the fair, the Muse must own And, thought to fly, contend to be undone. In this pursuit they court not fame alone; We need not buy our ruin with our crime, But join to that a more substantial view,

And give eternity to murder time. “ From thinking free, to be free agents too."[down, The love of gaming is the worst of ills;

They strive with their own hearts, and keep them with ceaseless storms the blacken'd soul it filk; In complaisance to all the fools in town.

Inveighs at Heaven, neglects the ties of blood; O how they tremble at the name of prude ! Destroys the power and will of doing good; And die with shame at thought of being good ! Kills health, pawns honour, plunges in disgrat For what will Artimis, the rich and gay,

And, what is still more dreadful - spoils pour fan. What will the wits, that is, the coxcombs, say? See yonder set of thieves that live on spoil, They Heaven defy, to Earth's vile dregs a slave; The scandal and the ruin of our isle ! Through cowardice, most execrably brave.

And see (strange sight !) amid that ruffian band, With our own judgments durst we to comply, A form divine high wave her snowy hand; In virtue should we live, in glory die.

That rattles loud a small enchanted bor, Rise then, my Muse, in honest fury rise;

Which, loud as thunder, on the board she knocks They dread a satire, who defy the skies.

And as fierce storms, which Earth's foundatis Atheists are few : most nymphs a Godhead own;

shook, And nothing but his attributes dethrone.

From Æolus's cave impetuous broke, From atheists far, they stedfastly believe

From this small cavern a mix'd tempest flies, God is, and is Almighty — to forgive.

Fear, rage, convulsion, tears, oaths, blasphemies His other excellence they 'll not dispute ;

I

mean — the fair discharges none; But mercy, sure, is his chief attribute.

She (guiltless creature !) swears to Heaven ales Shall pleasures of a short duration chain

See her eyes start! cheeks glow! and is A lady's soul in everlasting pain ?

swell! Will the great Author us poor worms destroy, Like the mad maid in the Cumean cell. For now and then a sip of transient joy?

Thus that divine one her soft nights employs! No, he 's for ever in a smiling mood;

Thus tunes her soul to tender nuptial joys! He's like themselves; or how could he be good ? And when the cruel morning calls to bed, And they blaspheme, who blacker schemes suppose. And on her pillow lays her aching head, Devoutly, thus, Jehovah they depose,

With the dear images her dreams are crown'd The pure ! the just! and set up, in his stead, The die spins lovely, or the cards go round; A deity, that's perfectly well-bred.

Imaginary ruin charms her still ; “ Dear Tillotson! be sure the best of men ; Her happy lord is cuckold by spadille : Nor thought he more, than thought great Origen. And if she's brought to bed, 't is ten to one, Though once upon a time he misbehav'd;

He marks the forehead of her darling son. Poor Satan! doubtless, he 'll at length be sav'd. O scene of horrour, and of wild despair, Let priests do something for their one in ten; Why is the rich Atrides' splendid heir It is their trade; so far they 're honest men. Constrain'd to quit his ancient lordly seat, Let them cant on, since they have got the knack, And hide his glories in a mean retreat ? And dress their notions, like themselves, in black ; Why that drawn sword ? and whence that diso Fright us with terrours of a world unknown, From joys of this, to keep them all their own. Why pale distraction through the family? Of Earth's fair fruits, indeed, they claim a fee ; See my lord threaten, and my lady weep, But then they leave our untith'd virtue free. And trembling servants from the tempest creep. Virtue 's a pretty thing to make a show : Did ever mortal write like Rouchofnunul?"

For men,

cry?

Sho

TO THE RIGHT HON. SIR ROBERT WAL.POLE.

uy that gay son to distant regions sent ?
lat fiends that daughter's destin'd match prevent ?
uy the whole house in sudden ruin laid,

SATIRE VII. nothing, but last night - my lady play'd. But wanders not my Satire from her theme? his too owing to the love of fame? ugh now your hearts on lucre are bestow'd, Carmina tum melius, cum venerit Ipse, canemus. was first a vain-devotion to the mode;

Virg. r cease we here, since 't is a vice so strong; 2 torrent sweeps all woman-kind along.

On this last labour, this my closing strain, s may be said, in honour of our times,

Smile, Walpole, or the Nine inspire in vain : ut none now stand distinguish'd by their crimes. To thee, 't is due; that verse how justly thine, f sin you must, take Nature for your guide : Where Brunswick's glory crowns the whole design! e has some soft excuse to soothe your pride : That glory, which thy counsels make so bright; fair apostates from love's ancient power! That glory, which on thee reflects a light. I nothing ravish, but a golden shower?

Illustrious commerce, and but rarely known, 1 cards alone your glowing fancy seize;

To give, and take, a lustre from the throne. st Cupid learn to punt, e'er he can please ? Nor think that thou art foreign to my theme; en you 're enamour'd of a lift or cast,

The fountain is not foreign to the stream. at can the preacher more, to make us chaste ? How all mankind will be surpris'd to see y must strong youths unmarried pine away? This flood of British folly charg'd on thee! y find no woman disengag'd - from play. Say, Britain! whence this caprice of thy sons, y pine the married ? O severer fate!

Which through their various ranks with fury runs ? y find from play no disengag'd - estate. The cause is plain, a cause which we must bless; via, at lovers false, untouch'd, and hard, For caprice is the daughter of success. ans pale, and trembles at a cruel card.

(A bad effect, but from a pleasing cause!) Arria's Bible can secure her age;

And gives our rulers undesign'd applause; r threescore years are shuffling with her page. Tells how their conduct bids our wealth increase, ile Death stands by, but till the game is done, And lulls us in the downy lap of peace. sweep that stake, in justice, long his own ; While I survey the blessings of our isle, e old cards ting'd with sulphur, she takes tire; Her arts triumphant in the royal smile,

like snuffs sunk in sockets, blazes higher. Her public wounds bound up, her credit high, gods! with new delights inspire the fair ; Her commerce spreading sails in every sky, give us sons, and save us from despair.

The pleasing scene recalls my theme again, sons, brothers, fathers, husbands, tradesmen, And shows the madness of ambitious men, close

Who, fond of bloodshed, draw the murdering sword, my complaint, and brand your sins in prose : And burn to give mankind a single lord. t I believe, as firmly as my Creed,

The follies past are of a private kind; spite of all our wisdom, you 'll proceed : Their sphere is small; their mischief is confin'd: r pride so great, our passion is so strong, But daring men there are (Awake, my Muse, vice to right confirms us in the wrong.

And raise thy verse !) who bolder phrenzy choose ; ear you cry, “ This fellow 's very odd.” Who, stung by glory, rave, and bound away: hen you chastise, who would not kiss the rod ? The world their field, and human kind their prey. t I've a charm your anger shall control,

The Grecian chief, th' enthusiast of his pride, d turn your eyes with coldness on the vole. With Rage and Terrour stalking by his side, The charm begins! To yonder flood of light, Raves round the globe; he soars into a god! at bursts o'er gloomy Britain, turn your sight. Stand fast, Olympus! and sustain his nod. at guardian power o'erwhelms your souls with The pest divine in horrid grandeur reigns, awe?

And thrives on mankind's miseries and pains. r deeds are precepts, her example law;

What slaughter'd hosts! what cities in a blaze ! Edst empire's charms, how Carolina's heart What wasted countries ! and what crimson seas ! ws with the love of virtue, and of art!

With orphans' tears his impious bowl o'erflows, r favour is diffus'd to that degree,

And cries of kingdoms lull him to repose. cess of goodness! it has dawn'd on me :

And cannot thrice ten hundred years unpraise en in my page, to balance numerous faults, The boisterous boy, and blast his guilty bays ?

godlike deeds were shown, or generous thoughts, Why want we then encomiums on the storm, = smil'd, industrious to be pleas'd, nor knew Or famine, or volcano ? They perform om whom my pen the borrow'd lustre drew. Their mighty deeds; they, hero-like, can slay, Thus the majestic mother of mankind*,

And spread their ample deserts in a day. her own charms most amiably blind,

O great alliance! O divine renown! the green margin innocently stood,

With dearth, and pestilence, to share the crown. d gaz'd indulgent on the crystal flood;

When men extol a wild destroyer's name, vey'd the stranger in the painted wave, Earth's Builder and Preserver they blaspheme. d, smiling, prais'd the beauties which she gave. One to destroy, is murder by the law;

And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe;
• Milton.

To murder thousands, takes a specious name,
War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame.

When, after battle, I the field have seen
Spread o'er with ghastly shapes, which once were

Proud conquests then, then regal pornps delight;

From tedious grandeur's faded charms withdras,

A nation crush'd, a nation of the brave !

But oh! this passion planted in the soul, A realm of death! and on this side the grave ! On eagle's wings to mount her to the Pole, Are there, said I, who from this sad survey, The flaming minister of virtue meant, This human chaos, carry smiles away?

Set up false gods, and wrong'd her high descent How did my heart with indignation rise !

Ambition, hence, exerts a doubtful force, How honest nature swell'd into my eyes !

Of blots, and beauties, an alternate source ; How was I shock'd to think the hero's trade Hence Gildon rails, that raven of the pit, Of such materials, fame and triumph, made ! Who thrives upon the carcases of wit;

Ilow guilty these! Yet not less guilty they, And in art-loving Scarborough is seen Who reach false glory by a smoother way;

How kind a patron Pollia might have been. Who wrap destruction up in gentle words, Pursuit of fame with pedants fills our schools, And bows, and smiles, inore fatal than their swords; And into corcombs burnishes our fools; Who stifle nature, and subsist on art ;

Pursuit of fame makes solid learning bright, Who coin the face, and petrify the heart ;

And Newton lifts above a mortal height; All real kindness for the show discard,

That key of Nature, by whose wit she clears As marble polish'd, and as marble hard ;

Her long, long secrets of five thousand years. Who do for gold what Christians do through grace, Would

you

then fully comprehend the whole “ With open arms their enemies embrace ;"> Why, and in what degrees, pride sways the sau? Who give a nod when broken hearts repine; (For, though in all, not equally she reigns) “ The thinnest food on which a wretch can dine:" | Awake to knowledge, and attend my strains Or, if they serve you, serve you disinclin'd,

Ye doctors ! hear the doctrine I disclose, And, in their height of kindness, are unkind. As true, as if 't were writ in dullest prose; Such courtiers were, and such again may be, As if a letter'd dunce had said, “ 'T is right," Walpole, when men forget to copy thee.

And imprimatur usher'd it to light. Here cease, my Muse! the catalogue is writ; Ambition, in the truly noble mind, Nor one more candidate for fame admit,

With sister Virtue is for ever join'd; Though disappointed thousands justly blame As in fan'd Lucrece, who, with equal dread, Thy partial pen, and boast an equal claim: From guilt and shame, by her last conduct

, ted: 1 Be this their comfort, fools, omitted here,

Her virtue long rebell'd in firm disdain, May furnish laughter for another year.

And the sword pointed at lier heart in vain; Then let Crispino, who was ne'er refus'd

But, when the slave was threatend to be land The justice yet of being well abus'd,

Dead by her side, her Lory of Fame obey'd With patience wait; and be content to reign

In meaner minds Ambition works alone; The pink of puppies in some future strain.

But with such art puts Virtue's aspecten, Some future strain, in which the Muse shall tell That not more like in feature and in mien, How science dwindles, and how volumes swell. The God and mortal in the comic scene.

How commentators each dark passage shun, False Julius, ambush'd in this fair disguise, And hold their farthing candle to the Sun.

Soon made the Roman liberties his prize. How tortur'd texts to speak our sense are made, No mask in basest minds Ambition wears, And every vice is to the Scripture laid.

But in full light pricks up her ass's ears : How misers squeeze a young voluptuous peer; All I have sung are instances of this, His sins to Lucifer not half so dear.

And prove my theme unfolded not amiss How Versus is less qualified to steal

Ye vain ! desist from your erroneous strife ; With sword and pistol, than with wax and seal. Be wise, and quit the false sublime of life.

How lawyers' fees to such excess are run, The true ambition there alone resides, That clients are redress'd till they 're undone Where justice vindicates, and wisdom guides;

How one man's anguish is another's sport; Where inward dignity joins outward State; And e'en denials cost us dear at court.

Our jnerpose good, as our achievement great; How man eternally false judgments makes, Where public blessings public praise attend; And all his joys and sorrows are mistakes.

Where glory is our motive, not our end. This swarm of themes that settles on my pen, Wouldst thou be fam'd! Have those bigh det Which I, like summer flies, shake off again,

in view Let others sing; to whom my weak essay Brave men would act, though scandal should

ease But sounds a prelude, and points out their prey : Behold a prince ! whom no swoln thoughts by That duty done, I hasten to complete

flame; My own design, for Tonson 's at the gate. No pride of thrones, no fever after fami: The Love of Fame in its effect survey'd,

But when the welfare of mankind inspires

, The Muse has sung : be now the cause display'd : And death in view to dear-bought glory first Since so diffusive, and so wide its sway, What is this power, whom all mankind obey? Then crowns, then triumphs, sparkle in his sight, Shot from above, by Heaven's indulgence, came

Tumult and noise are dear, which with then bring This generous ardour, this unconquer'd flame, His people's blessings to their ardent king: To warm, to raise, to deify, mankind,

But, when those great heroic motives cease, Still burning brightest in the noblest mind. His swelling soul subsides to native peace ; By large-soul'd men, for thirst of fame renown'd, Wise laws were fram'd, and sacred arts were found; A sudden foe to splendour and applause ; Desire of praise first broke the patriot's rest ; And made a bulwark of the warrior's breast;

Greatly deferring his arrears of fame, It bids Argyll in fields and senate shine :

Till men and angels jointly shout his name. What more can prove its origin divine ?

• Amphitryon.

pride celestial! which can pride disdain ;

While sea and air, great Brunswick ! shook our blest ambition ! which can ne'er be vain.

state, From one fam'd Alpine hill, which props the sky, And sported with a king's and kingdom's fate, n whose deep womb unfathom'd waters lie, Depriv'd of what she lov'd, and press'd by fear lere burst the Rhone and sounding Po; there shine, Of ever losing what she held most dear, in infant rills, the Danube and the Rhine; How did Britannia, like Achilles, weep, rom the rich store one fruitful urn supplies, And tell her sorrows to the kindred deep ! Vhole kingdoms smile, a thousand harvests rise. Hang o'er the floods, and, in devotion warm,

In Brunswick such a source the Muse adores, Strive, for thee, with the surge, and fight the storm! Thich public blessings through half Europe pours. What felt thy Walpole, pilot of the realın! Then his heart burns with such a god-like aim, Our Palinurus slept not at the helm ; ngels and George are rivals for the fame; His eye ne'er clos'd ; long since inur'd to wake, eorge, who in foes can soft affections raise, And out-watch every star for Brunswick's sake : nd charm envenom'd satire into praise.

By thwarting passions tost, by fares opprest, Nor human rage alone his power perceives, He found the tempest pictur'd in his breast : ut the mad winds, and the tumultuous waves. But, now, what joys that gloom of heart dispel, 'en storms (Death's fiercest ministers !) forbear, No powers of language — but his own, can tell;

, in their own wild empire, learn to spare. His own, which Nature and the Graces form, hus Nature's self, supporting man's decree, At will, to raise, or hush the civil storm. yles Britain's sovereign, sovereign of the sea.

• The king in danger by sea.

MARK AKENSIDE.

Mark Akbnside was born in 1721, at Newcastle-| reputation increased; so that, on the setler: upon-Tyne, where his father was a substantial of the Queen's household, he was appointed or butcher. After receiving an education, first at a her Majesty's physicians - an honour for whic: grammar-school, and then at a private academy at is supposed to have been indebted to Mr. Disco his native place, he was sent to the university of It is affirmed that Dr. Akenside assund Edinburgh, for the purpose of being fitted for a haughtiness and ostentation of manner which es Dissenting minister. He soon, however, exchanged not calculated to ingratiate him with his brezime his studies for those of medicine; and, after con- of the faculty, or to render him generally tinuing three years at Edinburgh, he removed to ceptable. He died of a putrid fever, in June, 1774 Leyden, where he took the degree of M. D. in 1744. in the forty-ninth year of his age. In the same year his poem “ On the Pleasures of Respecting his poem “ On the Pleasures of the the Imagination” made its appearance, which was Imagination," of which Addison's papers in the Stars received with great applause, and raised the author tator are the ground-work, it would be an injur

; at once into poetical fame. It was soon followed deny him the claims of an original writer, which by a warm invective against the celebrated Pulteney, merited by the expansion of the plan of this pro Earl of Bath, in an “ Epistle to Curio." In 1745 original, and by enriching its illustrations from a he published ten Odes on different subjects, and in stores of philosophy and poetry. No poem of s various styles and manners. All these works cha- elevated and abstracted a kind was ever so popa racterized him as a zealous votary of Grecian phi- It went through several editions soon after its r. losophy and classical literature, and an ardent lover pearance, and is still read with enthusiasm by ecs of liberty. He continued, from time to time, to who have acquired a relish for the concesse publish his poetical effusions, most of which first of pure poetry, and the strains of numerous bilan appeared in Dodsley's collection. Of these, the verse. The author was known to have been cmost considerable is, a “ Hymn to the Naiads." ployed many years in correcting, or rather text

His professional career affords few incidents modelling, this work; but the unfinished druz worth recording. He settled for a short time at of this design seems to have rendered it proba Northampton; then removed to Hampstead; and that the piece would have lost as much is pro finally fixed himself in London. While his prac as it would have gained in philosophy. tice was small, he was generously assisted by his Of his other poems, the Hymn to the Naiads. friend, Mr. Jeremiah Dyson, who made him an the longest and best. With the purest prit allowance of 300l. per annum. He pursued the classical literature, it contains much mythologic: regular course to advancement, becoming Fellow ingenuity, and many poetical ideas, beautifully exof the Royal Society, Physician to St. Thomas's pressed. In his lyric productions, the copious Hospital, Doctor of Physic by mandamus at Cam- and elevation of thought does not compensate si bridge, and Fellow of the London College of Phy- the total want of grace, ease, and appropriate besicians. He also published several occasional pieces mony. The only sparks of animation which tv on medical subjects, among which was a Treatise exhibit occur when they touch on political tepat on the Epidemic Dysentery of 1764, written in ele- and it is in these instances alone we have ventures gant Latin. By these efforts his practice and 'to select them.

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