When, for the use of no Hibernian born,
Shall rife one blade of grafs, one ear of corn;
When fhells and leather shall for money pass,
Nor thy oppreffing lords afford thee brafs*.
But all turn leafers to that † mongrel breed,
Who, from thee sprung, yet on thy vitals feed;
Who to yon ravenous ifle thy treasures bear,
And wafte in luxury thy harvests there;
For pride and ignorance a proverb grown,
The jeft of wits, and to the court unknown.
I fcorn thy fpurious and degenerate line,
And from this hour my patronage resign.

ON READING DR. YOUNG'S SATIRES

CALLED

THE UNIVERSAL PASSION,

BY WHICH HE MEANS PRIDE.

1726.

F there be truth in what you fing,
Such god-like virtues in the king;

A minifter † fo fill'd with zeal
And wifdom for the common-weal:
If he § who in the chair prefides

So fteadily the fenate guides:

* Wood's ruinous project in 1724.

†The absentees, who spent the income of their Irish estates, places, and penfions, in England. '

Sir Robert Walpole, afterwards earl of Orford..

Sir Spencer Compton, then fpeaker, afterwards earl of Wilmington.

If others, whom you make your theme,

Are feconds in the glorious fcheme :

If

every peer, whom you commend, To worth and learning be a friend: If this be truth, as you atteft,

What land was ever half so bleft i
No falfehood now among the great,
And tradefmen now no longer cheat;
Now on the bench fair Juftice fhines;
Her fcale to neither fide inclines:
Now Pride and Cruelty are flown,
And Mercy here exalts her throne:
For fuch is good example's power,
It does its office every hour,
Where governors are good and wife;
Or else the truest maxim lies:
For fo we find all ancient sages
Decree, that, ad exemplum regis,
Through all the realm his virtues run,
Ripening and kindling like the fun.
If this be true, then how much more
When you have nam'd at least a score
Of courtiers, each in their degree,
If poffible, as good as he!

Or take it in a different view. ́
I afk (if what you fay be true)
If you affirm the present age
Deferves your fatire's keenest rage:
If that fame univerfal paffion
With every vice has fill'd the nation:
If virtue dares not venture down
A fingle step beneath the crown:

If

If clergymen, to fhew their wit,
Praise clafficks more than holy writ:

If bankrupts, when they are undone,
Into the fenate-house can run,
And fell their votes at such a rate,
As will retrieve a loft eftate:

If law be fuch a partial whore,

To spare the rich, and plague the poor:
If these be of all crimes the worst,

What land was ever half so curft?

THE DOG AND THIEF. 1726.

UOTH the thief to the dog, let me into your door,
And I'll give you these delicate bits.

QUO

Quoth the dog, I fhall then be more villain than you're, And befides must be out of my wits.

Your delicate bits will not ferve me a meal,

But my mafter each day gives me bread; You'll fly, when you get what you came here to steal, And I must be hang'd in your

ftead.

The stock-jobber thus from 'Change-alley goes down,
And tips you the freeman a wink;

Let me have but your vote to ferve for the town,
And here is a guinea to drink.

Says the freeman, your guinea to-night would be spent!
Your offers of bribery cease:

I'll vote for my landlord, to whom I pay rent,
Or elfe I may forfeit my leafe.

VOL. VII.

A a

From

From London they come, filly people to choufe,
Their lands and their faces unknown:

Who'd vote a rogue into the parliament-house,
That would turn a man out of his own?

AD VI CE

TO THE

GRUB-STREET VERSE-WRITERS. 1726.

YE poets ragged and forlorn,

Down from your garrets haste;

Ye rhymers dead as foon as born,
Not yet confign'd to paste.

I know a trick to make you thrive;
O, 'tis a quaint device:

Your ftill-born poems shall revive,
And scorn to wrap up fpice.

Get all

your verfes printed fair, Then let them well be dried;

And Curll must have a special care

To leave the margin wide.

Lend these to paper-sparing * Pope;

And when he fits to write,

No letter with an envelope

Could give him more delight.

*The original copy of Mr. Pope's celebrated translation of Homer (preferved in the British Mufeum) is almost entirely written on the covers of letters, and fometimes between the lines of the letters themfelves.

When

When Pope has fill'd the margins round,

Why then recall your loan;

Sell them to Curll for fifty pound,

And swear they are your own.

TO A LADY,

Who defired the AUTHOR to write fome Verses upon her in the Heroic Style.

AFTER venting all my spite,

Tell me, what have I to write?

Every error I could find

Through the mazes of your mind,
Have my bufy Mufe employ'd,
Till the company was cloy'd.
Are you pofitive and fretful,
Heedlefs, ignorant, forgetful?
Thofe, and twenty follies more,
I have often told before.

Hearken what my lady fays:
Have I nothing then to praise?
Ill it fits you to be witty,

Where a fault should move your pity.

If
you think me too conceited,
Or to paffion quickly heated;
If my wandering head be less
Set on reading than on drefs;
If I always feem too dull t'ye;
I can folve the diffi-culty.

You would teach me to be wife;
Truth and honour how to prize;
A a 2

How