75

But does the court a worthy man remove? That instant, I declare, he has my love; I shun his zenith, court his mild decline: Thus Somers once and Halifax were mine. Oft, in the clear, still mirror of retreat, I studied Shrewsbury, the wise and great. Carleton's calm sense and Stanhope's noble flame Compared, and knew their generous end the same. How pleasing Atterbury's softer hour!

79

How shined the soul, unconquer'd in the Tower!
How can I Pulteney, Chesterfield forget,
While Roman spirit charms, and Attic wit? 85

to succeed in a science, of which nature has denied us access to the first principles. Until we know what spirit is, metaphysics must be a dream.

77 Somers. John, lord Somers, died in 1716. He had been lord keeper in the reign of William III., who took from him the seals in 1700. The author had the honor of knowing him in 1706. A faithful, able, and incorrupt minister; who, to the qualities of a consummate statesman, added those of a man of learning and politeness.-Pope.

77 Halifax. A peer, no less distinguished by his love of letters than his abilities in parliament. He was disgraced in 1710, on the change of queen Anne's ministry.-Pope.

79 Shrewsbury. Charles Talbot, duke of Shrewsbury, had been secretary of state, ambassador in France, lord lieutenant of Ireland, lord chamberlain, and lord treasurer. He several times quitted his employments, and was often recalled. He died in 1718.-Pope.

80 Carleton. Henry Boyle, lord Carleton, nephew of the famous Robert Boyle, who was secretary of state under William III. and president of the council under queen Anne.— Pope.

80 Stanhope. James, earl Stanhope; a nobleman of equal courage, spirit, and learning; general in Spain, and secretary of state.-Pope.

84 Pulteney, Chesterfield. Warton tells us, that he heard a lady of exquisite wit and judgment say of those two celebrated

Argyll, the state's whole thunder born to wield,
And shake alike the senate and the field?

Or Wyndham, just to freedom and the throne,
The master of our passions, and his own?

Names, which I long have loved, nor loved in

vain;

90

Rank'd with their friends, not number'd with their train;

95

And if yet higher the proud list should end,
Still let me say, 'No follower, but a friend.'
Yet think not, friendship only prompts my lays;
I follow virtue; where she shines, I praise;
Point she to priest or elder, whig or tory,
Or round a quaker's beaver cast a glory.
I never, to my sorrow I declare,

Dined with the Man of Ross, or my lord mayor. Some in their choice of friends (nay, look not grave)

Have still a secret bias to a knave:

100

men, that the latter was always striving to be witty, the former could not help being so.' If this were the case, Pulteney has reason to complain of biography; for while Chesterfield has left us many happy jeur d'esprit, Pulteney has left nothing but the dry pages of the Craftsman,' and even there his possession has been more than disputed. Warton rather maliciously adds, that the lines on Argyll were inserted, after the duke's declaring in the house of lords, on occasion of some of Pope's satires,' that if any man dared to use his name in an invective, he would run him through the body, and throw himself on the mercy of his peers, who, he trusted, would weigh the provocation. Argyll's well-known character might justify the poet's prudence in passing him by, but scarcely justifies his volunteering the panegyric.

99 My lord mayor. Sir John Barnard, mayor in this year, 1738; a man respected for his integrity, activity, and intelligence he was a member of parliament. In 1747, the city voted him a statue.

To find an honest man I beat about,

And love him, court him, praise him, in or out. F. Then why so few commended?

P. Not so fierce :

105

Find the virtue, and I'll find the verse.
you
But random praise-the task can ne'er be done;
Each mother asks it for her booby son;
Each widow asks it for the best of men ;'
For him she weeps, for him she weds again.
Praise cannot stoop, like satire, to the ground; 110
The number may be hang'd, but not be crown'd:
Enough for half the greatest of these days,
To 'scape my censure, not expect my praise.
Are they not rich? what more can they pretend?
Dare they to hope a poet for their friend?
What Richelieu wanted, Louis scarce could gain,
And what young Ammon wish'd, but wish'd in

vain.

115

No power the Muse's friendship can command;
No power, when virtue claims it, can withstand:
To Cato, Virgil paid one honest line;
O, let my country's friends illumine mine!
-What are you thinking? F. Faith, the thought's

no sin :

I think your friends are out, and would be in.

120

116 What Richelieu. The arrogant, but the able minister of France. As he had raised the monarchy to its height by violence, he labored to keep it there by corruption: his first object had been accomplished in the ruin of protestantism; his next, in the purchase of the whole literary body of France. He is said also to have expended eighty thousand crowns a year in public pensions to writers of all countries ;-an immense sum in his day but his private bribes were probably much more lavish, and much more effectual.

POPE.

II.

Y

P. If merely to come in, sir, they go out, The way they take is strangely roundabout.

125

130

F. They too may be corrupted, you'll allow? P. I only call those knaves who are so now. Is that too little? Come then, I'll comply: Spirit of Arnall! aid me while I lie. Cobham's a coward, Polwarth is a slave, And Littleton a dark designing knave; St. John has ever been a wealthy fool; But let me add, sir Robert's mighty dull; Has never made a friend in private life; And was, besides, a tyrant to his wife.

135

But, pray, when others praise him, do I blame?

Call Verres, Wolsey, any odious name?
Why rail they then, if but a wreath of mine,
O, all-accomplish'd St. John! deck thy shrine?
What? shall each spur-gall'd hackney of the
day,

140

When Paxton gives him double pots and pay,
Or each new-pension'd sycophant, pretend
To break my windows if I treat a friend;
Then wisely plead, to me they meant no hurt,
But 'twas my guest at whom they threw the dirt?
Sure, if I spare the minister, no rules

Of honor bind me, not to maul his tools;
Sure, if they cannot cut, it may be said

His saws are toothless, and his hatchet's lead.

146

129 Arnall, aid me while I lie. One of the writers for the Walpole ministry: a shrewd and sensible man; but latterly wasteful; and, after undergoing great distress, closing his career by the still more unhappy fate of suicide.- Bowles.

143 To break my windows. Pope had become obnoxious to the street politicians; and they broke his windows, one day, when lords Bolingbroke and Bathurst were at dinner with him.

It anger'd Turenne, once upon a day,
To see a footman kick'd that took his pay;
But when he heard the affront the fellow gave,
Knew one a man of honor, one a knave;—
The prudent general turn'd it to a jest,

150

And begg'd he'd take the pains to kick the

rest:

Which not at present having time to do—

155

F. Hold, sir! for God's sake, where 's the affront to you?

Against your worship when had Sk writ?
Or P-ge pour'd forth the torrent of his wit?
Or grant the bard, whose distich all commend, 160
In power a servant, out of power a friend,'
To W-le guilty of some venial sin ;—
What's that to you, who ne'er was out nor in?

The priest, whose flattery bedropp'd the crown, How hurt he you? he only stain'd the gown. 165 And how did, pray, the florid youth offend, Whose speech you took, and gave it to a friend? P. Faith, it imports not much from whom it

came :

Whoever borrow'd, could not be to blame,
Since the whole house did afterwards the same.
Let courtly wits to wits afford supply,
As hog to hog in huts of Westphaly :

158 S-k.-P-ge. Sherlock and Page.

171

161 In power. A line in an epistle to sir R. Walpole, by lord Melcombe.

165 He only stain'd. The priest alluded to in the preceding line, notwithstanding Pope's denying note, was Dr. Alured Clarke, who wrote a panegyric on queen Caroline.

166 Florid youth. Lord Hervey, alluding to his painting himself.