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Still Westead tunes his beer-inspired lays,

And Ralph, in metre, holds forth Stanhope's STATE DUNCES:

Ah! hapless victim to the poet's flame, (praise.

While his eulogiums crucify thy fame. A SATIRE. INSCRIBED TO MR. POPE, 1733.

Shall embrio wits thy studious hours engage.

Live in thy labours, and prophane thy page ; I from my soul sincerely hate

While virtue, ever-lov'd, demands thy lays, Both kings and ministers of state. And claims the tuneful tribute of thy praise ?

SWIFT Can Pope be silent, and not grateful lend We cringing crowds at faithless lerees One strain to sing the patriot, and the friend, wait,

Who, nobly anxious in his country's cause, Fond to be fools of fame, or slaves of state;

Maintains her lionours, and defends her laws! And others, studious to increase their store,

Could I, my bard, but equal numbers raise, Plough the rough ocean for Peruvian ore:

Then would I sing-for, oh! I burst to praise How blest thy fate, whom calmer hours attend, Sing how a Pult'ney charms the listning throng, l'eace thy companion, fame thy faithful friend? While senates hang enraptur'd on his tongue ; While in thy Twick’nbam bow'rs, devoid of With 'Tully's fire how each oration glows,

In Tully's music how each period flows; You feast the fancy, and enchant the ear;

Instruct each babe to lisp the patriot's name, Thames gently rolls her silver tide along,

Who in each bosom breathes a Roman flame. And the charm'd Naiads listen to thy song.

So, when the genius of the Roman age Here, peaceful pass the gentle hours away,

Stemm'd the strong torrent of tyrannic rage, While tureful science measures out the day!

In freedom's cause each glowing breast he Here happy barid, as various fancies lead,

warm’d, You paint the blooming maid, or sow'ry mead! And, like a Pult'ney, then a Brutus charm'd. Sound the rough clangonr of tumultuous war,'

How blest, wbile we a British Brutus see, Or sing the ravish'd tendrils of the fair?!

And all the Roman stands confest in thee ! Now melting move the tender tear to flow, Egnal thy worth, but equal were thy doom, And wake our sighs with Eloisa's woe3.

To save Britannia, as he rescu'd Rome : But chief, to dullness ever foe decreed,

He from a Tarquin snatch'd the destin'd prey; The apes of science with thy satire bleedt ;

Britannia still laments a Walpole's sway. Peers, poets, panders, mingle in the throng, Arise, my tuneful bard, nor thus in vain Smart with thy touch, and tremble at thy Let thy Britannia, whom thou lov'st, complain:

songs. Yet vain, Ö Pope! is all thy sharpest rage, 6 Still Helstead, And Ralph.] Two all, Still starv'ling Dunces persecnle the age; thors, remarkable for nothing so much as the Faithful to folly, or enrag'd with spite,

figure they make in the Dunciad, unjustly, on Still tasteless Timons build, and Tibbalds write; the part of Welstea!, who certainly was not a

despicable writer. Whitehead was afterwards i Homer. · Rape of the Lock.

very intimate with Ralph, whom he frequently 9 Eloisa to Abelard.


met at Bubb Doddington's.-C. $ Epistles.

? Afterwards egrl of Bath,


If thou in moanful lays relate her woe,

The bench and bar alike my influence owns;
Each heart shall bleed, each eye with pity flow: Here prate my magpies, and there duze my
If to revenge you swell the sounding strain,

Reveage and fury fire each Br tish swain : In the grave dons, how formal is my mien,
Obsequious to thy verse each breast sball move, Who rule the gallipots of Warwick-lane:
Or burn with rage, or soften into love.

At court behold me strut in purple pride,
O Jet Britannia be her pet's care!

At Hockley roar, and in Crane-court preside.
And lash the spoiler, while you save the fair. But chief in thee my mighty pow'r is seen;
Lo! where he stands, amidst the servile crew, 'Tis I inspire thy mind, and fill thy mien;
Nor blushes stain his cheek with crimson hue; On thee, my child, my duller blessings shed,
While dire corruption all around he spreads, And pour my opium o'er thy fav'rite head;
And er ry ductile conscience captive leads : Rais'd thee a ruler of Britannia's fate,
Brib'd by his boons, belold the venal band And led thee blund'ring to the helm of state.”
Worship the idol they could once command; Here bow'd the statesman low, and thus ad-
So Britain's now, as Judah's sons before,

drest : First raise a golden calf, and then adore.

“O goddess, sole inspirer of my breast!
Let dull Parnassian sons of rhyme no more To gall the British neck with Gallic chain,
"Provoke thy satire, and employ thy pow'r; Long have I strove, but long have strove in rain ;
New objects rise to share an equal fate,

While Calebo, rebel to thy sacred pow'r,
The big, rich, mighty, Dunces of the State. Unv-ils those eyes which thou hast curtain'd o'er;
Shall alph, Cooke, Welstead, then engross thy Makes Britain's sons my dark designs foresee,

Blast all my schemes, and struggle to be free.
While courts afford a Hervey, York, or Gage? 0, bad my projects met a milder fate,
Dallness no more roosts only near the sky, How had I reign'd a basha of the state !
But senales, drawing-rooms, with garrets vie ;

How o'er Britannia spread imperial sway!
Plump peers, and breadless bards, alike are dull; How taught each free-born Briton to obey !
St. James's and Rag-fair club fool for foul. No smiling freedom then had checr'd her swains,

Amidst the mighty dull, behold how great But Asia's deserts vy'd with Albion's plains :
An Appius swells,the Tibbald of the state ! Turks, Vandals, Britain ! then compar'd with
Long had he strove to spread his lawless sway


(were free; O’er Britain's sons, and force them to obey; Had bugg'd their chains, and joy'd that they But, blasted all his bloomiug hopes, he fies. While wond'ring nations all around had seen To vent his woe, and mourn his lost excise. Me rise a great Mogul, or Mazarin : Pensive he sat, and sigh’d, while round him Then bad I taught Britannia to adore, lay

Then Jed her captive to my lawless pow'r. Loads of duil lumber, all inspir'd by pay : Methinks, I view her now no more appear Here, puny pamphlets, spun from prelates' First in the train, and fairest 'midst the fair : brains ;

(strains : Joyless I see the lovely mourner lie,
There, the smooth jingle of Cooke's lighter Norglow her cheek, nor sparkle now her eye;
Here, Walsingham's soft lulling opiate spread; Faded each grace, no siniling feature warm;
There, gloomy Osborn’so quintessence of lead : Torn all her tresses, blighted ev'ry charm :
With these the statesman strove to ease his Nor teeming plenty now each valley crowns ;

Slaves are her sons, and tradeless all her towns.
To sooth his sorrows, and divert despair : For this, behold yon peaceful army fed ;
But long his grief sleep's gentle aid denies; For this, on senates see my bounty shed ;
At length a slumb'rous Briton clos’d his eyes. For this, what wonders, goddess, have I wrought !

Yet vain the healing balm of downy rest, How bully'd, begg'd, liow treated, and low
To chase bis woe, or ease his lab'ring breast :

fought !
Now frightfal forms rise hideous to his view, What wand'ring maze of error blunder'd through,
More, Stratford,Laud, and all the headless crew; And how iepair'd old blunders still by new!
Daggers and halters boding terrour breeds, Hence the long train of never ending jars,
And here a Dudley swings, there Villiers bleeds. Of warful peaces, and of peaceful wars,

Now goddess Dulness, watchful o'er his fate, Each mystic treaty of the mighty store,
And ever anxious for her child of state;

Which to explain, demands ten treaties more: From couch of down slow rais'd her drowsy head, Hence scarecrow navies, floating raree-shows; Fursovk her slumbers, and to Appius sped. And hence Iberia's pride, and Britain's woes.

“ Awake, my son, awake,” the goddess cries, These wond'rous works, O goddess ! have I done,
“ Nor longer mourn thy darling lost cxcise :" Works erer worthy Dulness' fav'rite son.
(Here the sad sound unseal'd the statesinan's “Lo ! on thy sons alone my favours show'r;

None share my bounty that disdain thy pow'r:
“Why slumbers thus my son, opprest with care? Yon feathers, ribbons, titles light as air,
While Dullness rules, say,shall her sons despair? Behold, thy choicest children only share :
O'er all I spread iny universal sway;

Each views the pageant with admiring eyes,
Kings, pre ates, peers, and rulers, all obey : And fondly grasps the visionary prize ;
Lo! in the church my mighty pow'r I shew, Now proudly spreads his leading sering of state,
In pulpit preach, and slumber in the pew : And thinks to be a wretch, is to be great,

Names assumed by writers of two ministerial 9 Caleb D'Anvers, the name assumed by the papers.

writers of the Craftsman.


" But turn, O goddess! turn thine eyes, and If arts like those, O Sherlock, honours claim, view

Than thee non merits more the prelate's name: The darling leaders of thy gloomy crew.

Wend'ring behold him faithful to his fee, Full open-mouth'd Newcastle there behold, Prove parliaments dependent to be free; Aping a Tally, swell into a scold,

In senates blunder, founder and dispute, Grievous to mortal ear. As at the place

For ever reas'ning, never to confute. Where loud tongu'd virgins vend the scaly race, Since courts for this their fated gifts decree, Harsh peals of vocal thunder fill the skies, Say, what is reputation to a see? And stunning sounds in hideous discord rise ;

“ Lo! o'er yon flood llare casts his low'ring So, when he tries the wond'rous power of noise,

And wishful sees the reviend turrets rise. [eyes, Each hapless ear's a viction to his voice.

While Lambeth opens to thy longing view, 10 How blest, o Cheselden! whose art can Hapless! the mitre ne'er can bind thy bruw: mend

Though courts should deiga the gift, how wonThose ears Newcastle was ordain'd to rend.

d'rou hard " See Harrington secure in silence sit;

By thy own doctrines still to be debarr'd! No empty words betray his want of wit:

Por, if from change il such mighty evil springs, If sense in hiding folly is express'd,

Translations sure, O Hare! are sinful things. O Harrington ! thy wisdom stands confess'd.

“ These rulers see, and nameless numbers “ To Dullness' sacred cause for ever true,

O goddess, of thy train the choicest store, [more, Thy darling Caledonian, goddess, view;

Who ignorance in gravity entrench,
The pride and glory of thy Scotia's plains, And grace alike the pulpit and the bench.
And faithful leader of her venal swains :

“Full plac'd and pension'd,see! Horatio stands; Loaded he moves beneath a servile weight,

Begrim'd his face, unpurify'd his hands : The dull laborious pack horse of the state;

To decency he scorns all nice pretence, Drudges through tracks of infamy for pay,

And reigns firin fe to cleanliness and sense, And hackneys out his conscience by the day :

How did Horatio Britain's cause advance ! Yonder behold the busy peerless peer,

How shine the sloven and buffoon of France ! With aspect meagre and important air ;

In senates now, how scold, how rave, how roar, His forn how gothic, and his looks how sage !

Of treaties run the tedious train-trow o'er! He seems the living Plato of the age.

How blunder out whate'er should be conceal'd, Blest form! in which alone thy merits And how keep secret what should be reveala!

True child of Dullness! see him, goddess, claim seer), Since all thy wisdom centers in thy mien ! Pow'r next myself, as next in birth and fame. “ Here Egmont, Albemarle, (for senates fit)

“ Silence ! ye senates, while enribbon'd Younge And Wby the wise, in council sit :

Pours forth melodious nothings from his tongue ! Here looby G-n, Grmover dull,

How sweet the accents play around the ear, By birth a senator, by fate a fool.

Form'd of smooth periods, and of well-tun'd

air! " While these, Britannia, watchful o'er thy state,

Leave, gentle Younge, the senate's dry debate, Maintain thine honours, and direct thy fate,

Nor labour 'midst the labyrinths of state; How shall admiring nations round adore,

Suit thy soft genius to more tender themes, Behold thy greatness, tremble at thy pow'r ;

And sing of cooling shades, and purling streams; New Shebas come, invited by thy fame,

With modern sing-song murder ancient plays 12, Revere thy wisdom, and extol thy name!

Or warble in sweet ode a Brunswick's praise: “Lo! to yon berich now, goddess, turn thine So shall thy strains in purer dullness flow, And view thy sons in solemn dullness rise : [eyes, and laurels wither on a Cibber's brow. All doating, wrinkled, grave, and gloomy, see

Say, can the statesinan wield the poet's quill, Each form confess thy dull divinity ;

And quit the senate for Parnassus' Hill? True to thy cause behold each trencher'd sage

Since there no venal vote a pension shares, Increas'd in folly as advanc'd in age :

Nor wants Apollo lords commissioners. Here Chr, learn’d in mystic prophecy,

“ There W- and

Pgodiless, view, Confuting Collins, makes each prophet lie:

Firm in thy cause, and to thy Appius true! Poor Woulston by thy Smallbrook there assail'd; Lo! from their labours what reward betides! Jails sure convinc'd him, though the prelate One pays my army, one my navy guides. fail'd.

To dance, dress, sing, and serenade the fair, “ But chief Pastorius, ever grave and dull,

• Conduct a finger, or reclaiin a hair,' Devoid of sense, of zeal divinely full,

O'er baleful tea with females taught to blame, Retails bis squibs of science o'er the town,

And spread a slander o'er a virgin's fame, While charges, past'rals, through each street

Form'd for these softer arts shall Hervey strain resound;

With stubborn politics bis tender brain!
These teach a heav'nly Jesus to obey,
While those maintain an earthly Appius' sway.

is A noted sermon preached on the 30th of Thy gospel truth, Pastorius, crost we see,

January, on this text, “ Woe be unto tbem that While God and Mammon's serv'd at once by

are given to change,” &c. thee.

12 This gentleman, with the assistance of Roome, “Who wou'd not trim, speak, vote, or consci- Concanen, and several others, altered the coence pawn,

medy of the Jovial Crew into a modern ballad To lord it o'er a see, and swell in lawn? opera; which was scarce exhibited on the stage,

before it was thought necessary to be contracted 10 William Cheselden, an eminent surgeon,

iptv one act. VOL. XII.

For ministers laborious pamphlets write,

'Midst the mad mansions of Voorficids, I'd be In senates prattle, and with patriots fight! A straw-crown'd monarch, in mock majesty, Thy fond ambition, pretty youth, give o'er, Rather than sovereign rule Britannia's fate, Preside at balls, old fashions lost restore;

Cursed with the follies and the farce of state.
So shall each toilette in thy canse engage, Rather in Newgate walls, ()! let me dwell,
And H- -ey shine a Pre of the age. A doleful tenant of the darkling cell,

“ Behold a star emblazon --n's coat! "Than swell, in palaces, the mighty store
Not that the knight has inerit, bnt a vote. Of fortune's fools, and parasites of pow'r.
And here, O goddess, num'rous wrongheads trace, Than crowns, ye gods! be any state my doom,
Lurd by a pension, ribband, or a place. Or any dungeon, but-a drawing-rooin.

To murder science, and my cause defend, “Thrice happy patriot ! whom no courts debase,
Now shoals of Grub-street garretteers descend; No tiles lessen, and no stars disgrace.
From schools and desks the writing insects crawl, Still nod the plumage o'er the brainless bead;
Unlade their dullness, and for Appius bawl. Still o'er the faithless heart the ribband spread.

“Lo! to thy darling Osborne turn thine eyes, Such toys may serve to signalize the tool, See him o'er politics superior rise;

To gild the knave, or garnish out the fool; While Caleb feels the venom of his quill;

While you, with Roman virtue arm'd, disdain
And wond'ring ministers reward his skill:

The tinsel trappings and the glitt'ring chain:
Unlearn'd in logic, yet he writes by rule, Fond of your freedom spurn the venal fee,
And proves himself in syllogism-a fool; And prove he's only great--who dares be free.”
Now flies obedient, war with sense to wage,

Thus sung Phileinon in his calm retreat,
And drags th' idea thro' the painful page: Ton wise for pow'r, too virtuous to be great.
Unread, unanswer'd, still he writes again,

“But whence this rage at courts?” reply'd his Still spins the endless cubweb of his brain :

grace, Charm'd with each line, reviewing what he writ, “Say, is the mighty crime, to be in place? Blesses his stars, and wonders at bis wit.

Is that the deadly sin, mark'd out by Heav'n, “Nor less, O Walsingham, thy worth appears! For which no mortal e'er can be forgiv'n? Alike in merit, tho' unlike in years :

Must all, all suffer, who in courts engage, Ill-fated youth! what stars malignant shed Down from lord steward, to the puny page ? Their baneful influence o'er thy brainless head, Can courts and places be such sinful things, Doom'd to be ever writing, never read!

The sacred gifts and palaces of kings?" For bread to libel liberty and sense,

A place may claim our rev'rence, sir, I own;
And damn thy patron weekly with defence. But then the man its dignity must crown:
Drench'd in the sable flood, O hadst thou still 'Tis not the truncheon, or the ermine's pride,
O'er skins of parchment drove thy venal quill, Can screen the coward, or the knave can hide.
At Temple ale-house told an idle tale,

Let Stair and *** bead our arms and law,
And pawn'd thy credit for a mug of ale; The judge and gen’ral must be view'd with awe:
Unknown to Appius then had been thy name, The villain then would shudder at the bar;
Unlac'd thy coat, unsacrific'd his fame;

And Spain grow humble at the sound of war.
Nor vast unvended reams would Peele deplore, What courts are sacred, when I tell your grace,
As victims destin'd to the common-shore. Mapners alone must sanctify the place?

“ As dunce to dunce in endless numbers breed, Hence only each its proper name receives ; So to Concanen see a Ralph succeed;

Haywood's a brothel; White's' a den of thieves: A tiny witling of these writing days, (plays. Bring whores and thieves to court, you change Full-fam'd for tuneless rhimes, and short-liv'd

the scene, Write on, my luckless bard, still unasham'd, St. James's turns the brothel, and the deni Tho'burnt thy journals, and thy drainas damn’d; Who would the courtly chapel holy call, "Tis bread inspires thy politics and lays,

Tho'the whole bench should consecrate the wall?
.Not thirst of immortality or praise.

While the trim chaplain, conscious of a fee,
“These, goddess, view, the cho'cest of the train, Cries out, “My king, I have no God but thee;">
While yet uvnumber'd dunces still remain; Lifts to the royal seat the asking eye,
Deans, critics, lawyers, bards, a motley crew, And pays to George the tribute of the sky;
To dullness faithful, as to Appius true.”

Proves sin alone from humble roofs must spring, “Enough,"the goddess cries,"enough I've seen;

Nor can one earthly failing stain a king. While these support, secure my son shall reign;

Bishops and kings may consecrate, ’lis true; Still shalt thou blund'ring rule Britannia’s fate, Without, the court and church are both prophane,

Manners alone claim hoinage as their due.
Still Grub-street hail thee minister of state.

Whatever prelate preach, or monarch reign;
Religion's rostrum virtue's scaffold grows,

And crowns and mitres are inere raree-shows,

In vain, behold yon rev'rend turrets rise,
A SATIRE, 1738.

And Saruin's sacred spire salute the skies!
Paulus vel Cossus vel Drusus moribus esto.

Dr. Swift says, “ that the late earl of Oxo
JUVENAL. ford, in the time of his ministry, never passed by

White's chocolate-house (the common rendez" Will--of all plagues which make mankind vous of infamous sharpers and noble cullies) their sport,

(-a court. without bestowing a curse upon that famous acaGuard me, ye Heav'ns! from that worst plague demy, as the bane of half the English nobility."


If the laun'd Levite's earthly vote be sold, Abroad, the guardian of his country's cause;
And God's free gift retail'd for Mammon gold; At home, a Tully to defend her laws.
No rev'rence can the proud cathedral claim, Senates with awe the patriot sounds imbibe,
But Henley's shop, and Sherlock's, are the same. And bold corruption almost drops the bribe.
Whence have St. Stephen's walls so hallow'd

Thus added worth to worth, and grace to grace, been?

He beams new glories back upon his race. Whence? From the virtue of his sons within. Ask ye, what's honour? I'll the truth impart. But should some guileful serpent, void of

grace, Koow, honour, then, is honesty of heart. Glide in its bounds, and poison all the place;

To the sweet scenes of social Stow 6 repair, Should e'er the sacred voice be set to sale, And search the master's breast, -you'll find it And o'er the heart the golden fruit prevail;

there. The place is alter'd, sir; nor think it strange Too proud to grace the sycophant or slave, To see the senate sink into a change.

It only harbours with the wise and brave; Or court, or church, or senate-house, or hall, Ungain'd by titles, places, wealth, or birth : Manners alone beam dignity on all.

Learn this, and learn to blush, ye sons of Earth!
Without their influence, palaces are cells; Blush to behold this ray of nature made
Crane-court, a magazine of cockle-shells; The victim of a ribband, or cockade.
The solemn bench no bosom strikes with awe, Ask the proud peer, what's honour? he dis.
But Westminster's a warebouse of the law.

These honest truths, my lord, deny who can; A purchas'd patent, or the herald's blaze;
Since all allow that“ Manners make the man." Or, if the royal smile his hopes has blest,
Hence only glories to the great belong,

Points to the glitt'ring glory on his breast:
Or peers must mingle with the peasant throng. Yet, if beneath no real virtue reign,

Though strung with ribbands, yet behold his On the gay coat the star is but a stain :
Shines but a lacquey in a higher place! [grace For I could whisper in his lordship's ear,
Strip the gay liv'ry from the courtier's back, Worth only beams true radiance on the star,
What marks the diff'rence'twixt my lord andJack? Hence see the garter'd glory dart its rays,
The same mean, supple, mercenary knave, And shine round E-with redoubled blaze:
The tool of power, and of state the slave:


from whence this flood of lustre's seen? Alike the vassal heart in each prevails,

Why E-whispers, votes, and saw Turin. And all his lordship boasts is larger vales.

Long Milo reign'd the minion of renown; Wealth, minors, titles, may descend, 'tis true; Loud his eulogiums echo'd through the town: But ev'ry heir must merit's claim renew.

Where'er he went,still crowds around him throng, Who blushes not to see a Cheir

And hail'd the patriot as he pass'd along.
Turir slave to sound, and languish for a play'p)? See the lost peer, unhonour'd now by all,
What piping, fidling, squeaking, quar’ring, brawl Steal through the street, or skulk along the Mall;

Applaudling sounds no more salute his ear,
What sing-song riot, and what cunuch-squawling! But the loud Paran's sunk into a sneer.
C-, thy worth all Italy shall own,

Whence, you'll inquire, could spring a change so A statesman fit, where Nero * fill'd the throne. Why, the poor man ran military mad; (sad? See poor Lævinus, anxious for renowo),

By this mistaken maxim still misled, Through the long gallery trace his lineage down, That men of honour must be cloth’d in red. And claim each hero's visage for his own.

My grandsire wore it, Milo cries—'tis good; What though in each the self same features shine, But know, the grandsire stain'd it red with blood. Unless some lineal virtue marks the line,

First midst the deathful dangers of the field, In vain, alas! he boasts his grandsire's name, He shone his country's guardian, and its shield; Or hopes to borrow lustre of his fame.

Taught Danube's stream with Gallic gore to flow; Who but must smile, to see the tim'rous peer Hence bloom'd the laurel on the grandsire's brow; Point 'mong his race our bulwark in the war? But shall the son expect the wreath to wear, Or in sad English tell how scnates hung

For the mock triumphs of an Hyde park war? On the sweet music of his father's tongue? Sooner shall-Bunhill, Blenheim's glories claim, Unconscious, thougb his sires were wise and brave, Or Billers rival brave Eugene in faine; Their virtues only find in him a grave.

Sooner a like reward their labours crown, Not so with Stanhopes; see by him sustain'd Who storm a dunghill, and who sack a town. Each hoary honour which his sires had gain'd. Mark our bright youths, how gallant and bow To him the virtues of his race appear

gay, The precious portion of five hundred year; Fresh plum'd and powder'd in review array. Descended down, by him to be enjoy'd,

Unspoil'd each feat are by the martial scar, Yet holds the talent lost, if unemploy'd.

Lo! A assumes the god of war : [pay, From hence behold his gen'rous ardour rise, Yet vain, while prompt to arms by plume and To suell the sacred stream with fresh supplies : He claims the soldier's name from soldier's play.

This truth, my warrior, treasure in thy breast; • The Royal Society.

A standing soldier is a standing jest. 3 That extraordinary instance of the folly, ex- When bloody battles dwindle to reviews, travagance, and depravity of the English, Fa- Armies must then descend to puppet-shews; rinello.

Where the lac'd log may strut the soldier's part, + A Roman emperor remarkable for his passion Bedeck'd with feather, though unaru'd with heart $ The right honourable the earl of Chester

6 The seat of the right honourable the lord field,

viscount Cobham.

for music.

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