Imatges de pàgina
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An office for your talents fit,

To flatter, crave, and fhew your wit;
To fnuff the lights and ftir the fire,
And get a dinner for your hire.
What claim have you to place or penfion?
He overpays in condefcenfion.

But, rev'rend doctor, you we know
Could never condefcend fo low;
The vicc-roy, whom you now attend,
Wou'd, if he durft, be more your friend;
Nor will in you thofe gifts defpife,
By which himself was taught to rife:
When he has virtue to retire,

He'll grieve he did not raise you higher,
And place you in a better ftation,
Although it might have pleas'd the nation.

This may be true-fubmitting still
To Walpole's more than royal will;
And what condition can be worse ?
He comes to drain a beggar's purse;
He comes to tie our chains on fafter,
And fhew us, England is our mafter :
Careffing knaves, and dunces wooing,
To make them work their own undoing.

What

What has he elfe to bait his traps,
Or bring his vermine in, but scraps?
The offals of a church diftreft ;
A hungry vicarage at best;
Or fome remote inferior post
With forty pounds a year at most ?

But here again you interpofe;
Your favourite lord is none of those
Who owe their virtues to their ftations,
And characters to dedications:
For keep him in, or turn him out,
His learning none will call in doubt ;
His learning, though a poet faid it
Before a play, would lose no credit ;
Nor Pope would dare deny him wit,
Although to praise it Philips writ.
I own, he hates an action base,
His virtues battling with his place;
Nor wants a nice difcerning fpirit
Betwixt a true and spurious merit;
Can fometimes drop a voter's claim,
And give up party to his fame.
I do the moft that friendship can;
I hate the vice-roy, love the man.

But you who, till your fortune's made, Must be a fweet'ner by your trade,

· K 4

Should

Should fwear he never meant us ill;
We fuffer fore against his will;
That if we could but fee his heart,
He would have chofe a milder part:
We rather fhould lament his cafe,
Who must obey or lose his place.

Since this reflexion flipt your pen,
Infert it when you write again :
And, to illustrate it, produce
This fimile for his excufe;

"So to deftroy a guilty land "An angel fent by heav'n's command, "While he obeys almighty will,

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Perhaps may feel compafficn ftill; "And wifh the task had been affign'd "To fpirits of lefs gentle kind."

But I, in politicks grown old,
Whofe thoughts are of a diff'rent mould,
Who from my foul fincerely hate
Both k―s and minifters of state,
k-

Who look on courts with ftricter eyes
To fee the feeds of vice arife,

So when an angel by divine command.

ADDISON'S Campaign,
Can

Can lend you an allufion fitter,
Though flatt'ring knaves may call it bitter;
Which, if you durft but give it place,
Would fhew you many a ftatefman's face:
Fresh from the tripod of Apollo

I had it in the words that follow
(Take notice, to avoid offence,
I here except his excellence).

"So, to effect his monarch's ends, "From hell a vice-roy devil afcends; "His budget with corruptions cramm'd, "The contributions of the damn'd; "Which with unfparing hand he ftrows "Through courts and fenates as he goes; "And then at Beelzebub's black ball, Complains his budget was too fmall."

Your fimile may better fhine
In verfe; but there is truth in mine.
For no imaginable things
Can differ more than gods and k
And statesmen by ten thousand odds
Are angels juft as k―s are gods.

-S:

то

то.

Janus, on NEW-YEAR's-DAY.

TW

Written in the Year 1729.

WO-fac'd fanus, god of time!
Be my Phoebus while I rhyme;
To oblige your crony Swift,
Bring our dame a new-year's-gift :
She has got but half a face;
Janus, fince thou haft a brace,
To my lady once be kind;
Give her half thy face behind.

God of time, if you be wife,
Look not with your future
eyes:
What imports thy forward fight?
Well, if you could lofe it quite.
Can you take delight in viewing
This poor ifle's approaching ruin,
When thy retrospection vast
Sees the glorious ages paft?

Happy nation! were we blind,
Or had only eyes behind.

*Ireland.

Drown

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