I cannot talk with civet in the room, A fine puss-gentleman that's all perfume; The sight's enough-no need to smell a beau- Who thrusts his nose into a raree show? His odoriferous attempts to please
Perhaps might prosper with a swarm of bees; But we that make no honey, though we sting, Poets, are sometimes apt to maul the thing.
A graver coxcomb we may sometimes see, Quite as absurd, though not so light as he; A shallow brain behind a serious mask, An oracle within an empty cask,
The solemn fop; significant and budge; A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge; He says but little, and that little said Owes all its weight, like loaded dice, to lead. His wit invites you by his looks to come, But when you knock, it never is at home. 'Tis like a parcel sent you by the stage, Some handsome present, as your hopes presage; 'Tis heavy, bulky, and bids fair to prove An absent friend's fidelity and love; But, when unpacked, your disappointment groans To find it stuffed with brickbats, earth, and stones. Some men employ their health, an ugly trick, In making known how oft they have been sick, And give us, in recitals of disease,
A doctor's trouble, but without the fees; Relate how many weeks they kept their bed, How an emetic or cathartic sped;
Nothing is slightly touched, much less forgot, Nose, ears, and eyes seem present on the spot. Now the distemper, spite of draught or pill, Victorious seemed, and now the doctor's skill; And now—alas, for unforeseen mishaps! They put on a damp nightcap and relapse!
They thought they must have died, they were so bad; Their peevish hearers almost wish they had.
33.- -THE TWO OWLS AND THE SPARROW.
Two formal Owls together sat, Conferring thus in solemn chat: How is the modern taste decayed! Where's the respect to wisdom paid? Our worth the Grecian sages knew; They gave our sires the honour due: They weighed the dignity of fowls, And pried into the depth of Owls. Athens, the seat of learned fame, With general voice revered our name; On merit title was conferred, And all adored the Athenian bird.
Brother, you reason well, replies The solemn mate, with half-shut eyes; Right, Athens was the seat of learning, And truly wisdom is discerning. Besides, on Pallas' helm we sit, The type and ornament of wit; But now, alas! we're quite neglected, And a pert Sparrow's more respected.
A Sparrow, who was lodged beside, O'erhears them soothe each other's pride, And thus he nimbly vents his heat: Who meets a fool must find conceit. I grant you were at Athens graced, And on Minerva's helm were placed; But every bird that wings the sky, Except the Owl, can tell you why.
From hence they taught their schools to know How false we judge by outward show; That we should never looks esteem, Since fools as wise as you might seem. Would ye contempt and scorn avcid, Let your vainglory be destroyed: Humble your arrogance of thought, Pursue the ways by nature taught; So shall you find delicious fare, And grateful farmers praise your care.
34.-COURAGE IN POVERTY.
IN Anna's wars, a soldier, poor and old, Had dearly earned a little purse of gold: Tired with a tedious march, one luckless night He slept, poor dog! and lost it, every mite. This put the man in such a desperate mind, Between revenge, and grief, and hunger joined, Against the foe, himself, and all mankind, He leaped the trenches, scaled a castle-wall, Tore down a standard, took the fort and all. "Prodigious well!" his great Commander cried, Gave him much praise, and some reward beside. Next pleased his Excellence a town to batter; (Its name I know not, and 'tis no great matter), "Go on, my friend, (he cried), see yonder walls, "Advance and conquer! go, where glory calls! "More honours, more rewards, attend the brave.". Don't you remember what reply he gave? "D'ye think me, noble General, such a sot? "Let him take castles who has ne'er a groat."
35.-PROLOGUE TO CATO; 1713.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art; To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold: For this the tragic muse first trod the stage, Commanding tears to stream through every age; Tyrants no more their savage nature kept, And foes to virtue wondered how they wept. Our author shuns, by vulgar springs, to move- The hero's glory, or the virgin's love;
In pitying love we but our weakness show, And wild ambition well deserves its woe. Here tears shall flow from a more generous cause, Such tears as patriots shed for dying laws: He bids your breasts with ancient ardour rise, And calls forth Roman drops from British eyes;
Virtue confessed in human shape he draws, What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was: No common object to your sight displays, But what with pleasure heaven itself surveys; A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state! While Cato gives his little senate laws, What bosom beats not in his country's cause? Who sees him act, but envies every deed? Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed? Even when proud Cæsar, 'midst triumphal cars, The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars, Ignobly vain, and impotently great,
Showed Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state: As her dead father's reverend image past, The pomp was darkened and the day o'ercast; The triumph ceased-tears gushed from every eye; The world's great victor passed unheeded by; Her last good man dejected Rome adored, And honoured Cæsar's less than Cato's sword. Britons, attend; be worth like this approved, And show you have the virtue to be moved. With honest scorn the first famed Cato viewed Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she subdued; Our scene precariously subsists too long On French translation and Italian song.
Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage, Be justly warmed with your own native rage: Such plays alone should please a British ear, As Cato's self had not disdained to hear.
36.-CHARACTER OF VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
SOME of their chiefs were princes of the land;
In the first rank of these did Zimri stand;
A man so various, that he seemed to be Not one but all mankind's epitome; Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was every thing by starts and nothing long; But, in the course of one revolving moon, Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon;
Blest madman! who would every hour employ With something new to wish or to enjoy. Railing and praising were his usual themes, And both, to show his judgment, in extremes. In squandering wealth was his peculiar art, Nothing went unrewarded but desert; Beggared by fools, whom still he found too late, He had his jest, and they had his estate;
He laughed himself from court, then sought relief By forming parties, but could not be chief. For, spite of him, the weight of business fell On Absalom and wise Achitophel;
Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft,
He left not faction, but of that was left.
37.-CHARACTER OF SHAFTESBURY.
Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages curst, For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfixed in principles and place, In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace; A fiery soul which working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay,
And o'erinformed the tenement of clay. A daring pilot in extremity,
Pleased with the danger when the waves went high
He sought the storms, but for a calm unfit,
Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied,
And thin partitions do their bounds divide.
In friendship false, implacable in hate, Resolved to ruin or to rule the state. To compass this the triple bond he broke, The pillars of the public safety shook,
And fitted Israel for a foreign yoke;
Then, seized with fear, yet still affecting fame, Usurped a patriot's all-atoning name. So easy still it proves, in factious times, With public zeal to cancel private crimes.
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