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Ambition figh’d: she found it vain to trust
The faithless column and the crumbling bust:
Huge moles whose shadow stretch'd from shore to short,
Their ruins perilh’d, and their place no more !
Convinc'd, she now contracts her vaft design,
And all her triumphs shrink into a Coin.
A narrow orb each crouded conquest keeps,
Beneath her palm here fad Judea weeps.
Now scantier limits the proud arch confine,
And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
A small Euphrates thro' the piece is rolla,
And little Eagles wave their wings in gold.

The Medal, faithful to its charge of fame,
Thro' climes and ages bears each form and name :
In one short view subjected to our eye
Gods, Emperors, Heroes, Sages, Beauties, lie.
With sharpen'd light pale Antiquaries pore,
'T'h'inscription value, but the ruft adore.
This the blue varnish, that the green endears,
The facred ruft of twice ten hundred years!
To gain Pescennius one employs his schemes,
One grasps a Cecrops in extatic dreams.
Poor Vadius, long with learned spleen devour'a,
Can taste no pleasure since his shield was fcour'd:
And Curio, restless by the fair-one's fide,
Sighs for an Otho, and neglects his bride.

Theirs. is the Vanity, the learning thine :
Touch'd by thy hand, again Rome's glories shine;
Her Gods, and godlike Heroes rise to view,
And all her faded garlands bloom a-new..

Nor blush, these studies thy regard engage;
These pleas’d the fathers of poetic rage :
The verse and sculpture bore an equal part,
And art reflected images to art.

Oh when shall Britain, conscious of her claim, Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame ? In living medals see her wars enrollid, And vanquish'd realms supply recording gold? Here, rising bold, the Patriot's honest face; There, Warriors frowning in historic brass : Then future ages with delight shall see How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks agree: Or in fair series laureld Bards be shown, A Virgil there, and here an Addison. Then shall thy Craggs (and let me call him mine) On the cast ore, another Pollio shine; With aspect open shall erect his head, And round the orb in lasting notes be read, " Statesman, yet friend to truth! of foul sincere, « In action faithful, and in honour clear; « Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, " Who gain’d no title, and who lost no friend; “ Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd, And prais’d, unenvy'd, by the Muse he lov’d.”

K 3

TO

The first publication of this Epistle.

THIS paper is a sort of bill of complaint, begun

many years since, and drawn up by snatches, as the several occasions offered. I had no thoughts of pua blishing it, till it pleased some persons of Rank and Fortune [the Authors of Verses to the Imitator of Horace and of an Epistle to a Doctor of Divinity from a Nobleman at Hampton Court] to attack, in a very extraordinary manner, not only my Writings (of which, being public, the Public is judge) but my Person, Morals and Family, whereof, to those who know me not, a truer information may be requisite. Being divided between the necessity to say something of myself, and my own laziness to undertake so aukward a task, I thought it the shortest way to put the last hand to this Epistle. If it have any thing pleasing, it will be that by which I am most desirous to please, the Truth and the Sentiment; and if any thing offensive, it will be only to those I am least sorry to offend, the vicious or the ungenerous.

Many will know their own pictures in it, there bem ing not a circumstance but what is true ; but I have for the most part, spared their Names, and they may escape being laughed at, if they please.

I would, have some of them know, it was owing to

the request of the learned and candid Friend to whom it is inscribed, that I make not as free use of theirs as they have done of mine. However, I shall have this advantage, and honour, on my side, that whereas, by their proceeding, any abuse may be directed at any man, no injury can possibly be done by mine, sincea nameless character can never be found out, but by its truth and likeness.

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