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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;
At court behold me strut in purple pride,
At Hockley roar, and in Crane-court preside.
drest : First raise a golden calf, and then adore.
“O goddess, sole inspirer of my breast!
While Calebo, rebel to thy sacred pow'r,
Blast all my schemes, and struggle to be free.
How o'er Britannia spread imperial sway!
Amidst the mighty dull, behold how great But Asia's deserts vy'd with Albion's plains :
(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,
Slaves are her sons, and tradeless all her towns.
Yet vain the healing balm of downy rest, How bully'd, begg'd, liow treated, and low
Now goddess Dulness, watchful o'er his fate, Each mystic treaty of the mighty store,
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,
None share my bounty that disdain thy pow'r:
Each views the pageant with admiring eyes,
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,
“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!
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.
“ Behold a star emblazon --n's coat! "Than swell, in palaces, the mighty store
“ To murder science, and my cause defend, “Thrice happy patriot ! whom no courts debase,
“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
The tinsel trappings and the glitt'ring chain:
Thus sung Phileinon in his calm retreat,
“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;
Let Stair and *** bead our arms and law,
And Spain grow humble at the sound of war.
“ 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?
While the trim chaplain, conscious of a fee,
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.
Whatever prelate preach, or monarch reign;
And crowns and mitres are inere raree-shows,
In vain, behold yon rev'rend turrets rise,
And Saruin's sacred spire salute the skies!
Dr. Swift says, “ that the late earl of Oxo
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;
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!
Points to the glitt'ring glory on his breast:
Though strung with ribbands, yet behold his On the gay coat the star is but a stain :
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.
Applaudling sounds no more salute his ear,
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,