Haunts the proud City, and the lowly Shade, And sways alike the Sceptre and the Spade. 40

Thus Heav'n in Pity wakes the friendly Flame, To urge Mankind on Deeds that merit Fame: But Man, vain Man, in folly only wife, Rejects the Manna sent him from the Skies: With rapture hears corrupted Paffion's call, 45 Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall. As each deceitful shadow tempts his view, He for the imag'd Substance quits the true; Eager to catch the visionary Prize, In quest of Glory plunges deep in Vice; 'Till madly zealous, impotently vain, He forfeits ev'ry Praise he pants to gain.

50

Thus still imperious NATURE plies her part, And still her Dictates work in ev'ry heart. Each Pow'r that sov'reign Nature bids enjoy, 55 Man may corrupt, but Man can ne'er destroy. Like mighty rivers, with resistless force The Paffions rage, obstructed in their course; Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore, And drown those Virtues which they fed before.

65

And fure, the deadliest Foe to Virtue's flame, Our worst of Evils, is perverted Shame. Beneath this load what abject numbers groan, Th' entangled Slaves to folly not their own! Meanly by fashionable fear oppress'd, We feek our Virtues in each other's breast; Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign Vice, Another's weakness, int'rest, or caprice. Each Fool to low Ambition, poorly great, That pines in splendid wretchedness of state, 70 Tir'd in the treach'rous Chafe, would nobly yield, And, but for Shame, like SYLLA, quit the field: The Dæmon Shame paints strong the ridicule, And whispers close, " the World will call you Fool."

Behold yon Wretch, by impious fashion driv'n, Believes and trembles while he scoffs at Heav'n. By weakness strong, and bold thro' fear alone, He dreads the sneer by shallow Coxcombs thrown; Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod ;

To Man a Coward, and a Brave to God.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 80. To Man a Coward, etc.]

Vois tu ce Libertin en public intrepide,

80

Qui preche contre un Dieu que dans son Ame il croit?

Il iroit embrasser la Verité, qu'il voit;

Faith, Justice, Heav'n itself now quit their hold, When to false Fame the captiv'd heart is fold: Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato dy'd; Nought could fubdue his Virtue, but his Pride. Hence chaste Lucretia's Innocence betray'd 85 Fell by that Honour which was meant its aid. Thus Virtue finks beneath unnumber'd woes, When Paffions, born her friends, revolt her foes.

Hence SATIRE'S pow'r:' Tis her corrective part,

To calm the wild disorders of the heart.
She points the arduous height where Glory lies,
And teaches mad Ambition to be wife:

90

95

In the dark bosom wakes the fair defire, Draws good from ill, a brighter flame from fire; • Strips black Oppreffion of her gay disguise, And bids the Hag in native horror rife; Strikes tow'ring Pride and lawless Rapine dead, And plants the wreath on Virtue's awful head.

Nor boasts the Muse a vain imagin'd Pow'r, Tho' oft she mourn those ills she cannot cure. 100

IMITATIONS.

Mais de ses faux Amis il craint la Raillerie,
Et ne brave ainsi Dieu que par Poltronnerie.

BOILEAU, Ep. iii.

The Worthy court her, and the Worthless fear ;
Who shun her piercing eye, that eye revere.
Her awful voice the Vain and Vile obey,
And ev'ry foe to Wisdom feels her sway.

104

Smarts, Pedants, as she smiles, no more are vain; Desponding Fops resign the clouded cane :

Hush'd at her voice, pert Folly's self is still,
And Dulness wonders while she drops her quill.
Like the arm'd BEE, with art most subtly true,
From poys'nous Vice she draws a healing dew :
Weak are the ties that civil arts can find,
To quell the ferment of the tainted mind:
Cunning evades, securely wrapt in wiles;
And Force strong-finew'd rends th' unequal toils :
The stream of Vice impetuous drives along, 115
Too deep for Policy, for Pow'r too strong.
Ev'n fair Religion, Native of the skies,

Scorn'd by the Crowd, seeks refuge with the Wife;
The Crowd with laughter spurns her awful train,
And Mercy courts, and Justice frowns in vain. 120
But SATIRE's shaft can pierce the harden'd breast:

She plays a ruling Passion on the rest:

IMITATIONS.

VER. 110. From poys'nous Vice, etc] Alluding to these Lines of Mr. Pope;

In the nice Bee what Art so subtly true

From poys'nous Herbs extracts a healing Dew?

Undaunted storms the batt'ry of his pride,
And awes the Brave that Earth and Heav'n defy'd.
When fell Corruption, by her vassals crown'd, 125
Derides fall'n Justice proftrate on the ground;
Swift to redress an injur'd People's groan,
Bold SATIRE shakes the Tyrant on her throne;
Pow'rful as Death, defies the fordid train,
And Slaves and Sycophants furround in vain. 130

But with the friends of Vice, the foes of SATIRE, All truth is Spleen; all just reproof, Ill-nature.

Well may they dread the Muse's fatal skill ; Well may they tremble when she draws her quill : Her magic quill, that, like ITHURIEL's spear, 135 Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen'd ear : Bids Vice and Folly take their nat'ral shapes, Turns Duchesses to strumpets, Beaux to apes; Drags the vile Whisp'rer from his dark abode, 'Till all the Dæmon starts up from the toad. 140

O fordid maxim, form'd to skreen the vile, That true good-nature still must wear a smile ! In frowns array'd her beauties stronger rife, When love of Virtue wakes her scorn of Vice: