Which, if you durft but give it Place,
Would fhew you many a Statesman'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 Viceroy DEV'L afcends,
His Budget with Corruptions cramm'd,
The Contributions of the Damn'd;
Which with unfparing Hand, he ftrows
Through Courts and Senates as he goes;
And then at Belzebub's Black-Hall,
Complains his Budget was too small.
YOUR Simile may better shine
In Verfe; but there is Truth in mine.
For, no imaginable Things
Can differ more than Gop and
And Statesmen, by ten Thousand Odds,
To Dr. Delany, on the Libels writ against him.
Tanti tibi non fit opacį.
Omnis arena Tagi.
Written in the Year 1729.
S fome raw Youth in Country bred,
To Arms by Thirft of Honour led,
When at a Skirmish first he hears
The Bullets whistling round his Ears;
Will duck his Head, afide will start,
And feel a trembling at his Heart :
Till, fcaping oft without a Wound,
Leffens the Terror of the Sound:
Fly Bullets now as thick as Hops,
He runs into a Cannon Chops.
An Author thus, who pants for Fame,
Begins the World with Fear and Shame,
When firft in Print, you fee him dread
Each Pot-Gun levell'd at his Head:
The Lead yon Critick's Quill contains,
Is deftin'd to Beat out his Brains.
As if he heard loud Thunders roul,
Cryes, Lord have Mercy on his Soul;
Concluding, that another Shot
Will ftrike him dead upon the Spot:
But, when with fquibbing, flashing, popping,
He cannot fee one Creature dropping :
That, miffing Fire, or miffing Aim
His Life is fafe, I mean his Fame ;
The Danger paft, takes Heart of Grace,
And looks a Critick in the Face.
THOUGH Splendor gives the fairest Mark
To poison'd Arrows from the Dark,
Yet, in your felf when smooth and round,
They glance afide without a Wound,
Tis faid, the Gods try'd all the Art, How Pain they might from Pleasure part;
*In feipfo totus teres atque rotundus.
But little could their Strength avail;
Both ftill are faften'd by the Tail.
Thus, Fame and Cenfure with a Tether
By Fate are always link'd together,
WHY will you aim to be preferr'd
In Wit before the common Herd?
yet grow mortify'd and vext
To pay the Penalty annext.
'Tis Eminence makes Envy rife;
As faireft Fruits attract the Flies.
Shou'd stupid Libels grieve your Mind
You foon a Remedy may find;
Lye down obfcure like other Folks
Below the Lash of Snarlers Jokes.
Their Faction is five Hundred Odds,
For, ev'ry Coxcomb lends them Rods
Can fneer as learnedly as they,
Like Females o'er their Morning Tea.
You say the Muse will not contain
And write you muft, or break a Vein:
Then, if you find the Terms too hard,
No longer my Advice regard
But raise your Fancy on the Wing;
The Irish Senate's Praifes fing;
How jealous of the Nation's Freedom,
And, for Corruptions, how they weed 'em.
How each the Publick Good pursues,
How far their Hearts from private Views.
Make all true Patriots UP to Shoe-boys,
Huzza their Brethren at the † Blue-boys.
Thus grown a Member of the Club,
No longer dread the Rage of Grub.
How oft am I for Rhyme to feek?
To dress a Thought, may toil a Week ;
And then, how thankful to the Town,
If all my Pains will earn a Crown.
Whilft ev'ry Critick can devour
My Work and me in half an Hour.
Would Men of Genius cease to write,
The Rogues rauft die for Want and Spite;
Muft die for Want of Food and Rayment,
If Scandal did not find them Payment.
+ The Irish Parliament fat at the Blue-Boys-Hospital, while the new Parliament-Houfe was building.
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