Imatges de pÓgina

Which, if


durst but give it Place, Would shew 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 Monarcb's Ends,
From Hell a Viceroy Dev'ı ascends,
His Budget with Corruptions crammid,
The Contributions of the Damn'd;
Which with unsparing Hand, he strows
Through Courts and Senates as he

goes; And then at Belzebub's Black-Hall, Complains his Budget was too small.

[ocr errors]

Your Simile may better thine
In Verse; but there is Truth in mine.
For, no imaginable Things
Can differ more than God and
And Statesmen, by ten Thousand Odds,
Are ANGELS, just as we are Gods.


To Dr. Delany, on the Libels: writ

against him.

[ocr errors]

Tanti tibi non fit opaci.
Omniš ärena Tagi.


Written in the Year 1729.


S fome raw Youth in Country bred,

To Arms by Thirst 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, scaping oft without a Wound,
Lessens 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 first in Print, you see him dread
Each Pot-Gun levelld at his Head :
The Lead yon Critick's Quill contains,
Is destin'd to Beat out bis Brains.
As if he heard loud Thunders roul,
Cryes, Lord bave Mercy on bis Soul ;
Concluding, that another Shot
Will strike him dead upon the Spot :
But, when with squibbing, flashing, popping,
He cannot see one Creature dropping :
That, missing Fire, or missing Aim
His Life is safe, I mean his Fame ;
The Danger past, takes Heart of Grace,
And looks a Critick in the Face.

THOUGH Splendor gives the fairest Mark
To poison’d Arrows froin the Dark,
Yet, * in your self when finooth and round,
They glance afide without a Wound,

Tis said, the Gods try'd all thet Art, How Pain they might from Pleasure part ;

* In feipfo totus teres atque rotundis...



But little could their Strength avail ;
Both still are fasten’d by the Tail.
Thus, Fame and Censure with a Tetheç
By Fatę are always link'd together,

Why will you aim to be preferr'ą
In Wit before the common Herd ?
And yet grow mortify'd and vexç
Το pay the Penalty annext.

'Tis Eminence makes Envy rise ;
As faireft Fruits attract the Flies.
Shou'd stupid Libels grieve your Mind,
You foon a Remedy may find;
Lye down obscure like other Folks
Below the Lash of Snarlers Jokes,
Their Faction is five Hundred Odds,
For, ev'ry Coxcomb lends them Rods

Can sneer as learnedly as they,
Like Females o'er their Morning Tea.

You say the Mufe will not contain; And write you must, 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 Praises 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 seek }
To dress a Thought, may toil a Week ;
And then, how thankful to the Town,
If all my Pains will earn a Crown.
Whilst 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 Spire ;
Must die for Want of Food and Rayment,
If Scandal did not find them Payment.

+ The Irish Parliament sat at the Blue-Boys-Hospital, while the new Parliament-House was building,


« AnteriorContinua »