Though fuch myself, vile bards I discommend;
Nay more, though gentle Damon is my friend.
"Is 't then a crime to write ?"-If talent rare
Proclaim the god, the crime is to forbear:
For fome, though few, there are large-minded men,
Who watch unfeen the labours of the pen;
Who know the Muse's worth, and therefore court,
Their deeds her theme, their bounty her support;
Who ferve, unafk'd, the leaft pretence to wit;
My fole excufe, alas! for having writ.
Argyll true wit is studious to restore;
And Dorfet fmiles, if Phoebus fmil'd before;
Pembroke in years the long-loy'd arts admires,
And Henrietta like a Muse inspires.
But, ah! not inspiration can obtain
That fame, which poets languish for in vain.
How mad their aim, who thirst for glory, strive
To grafp, what no man can poffefs alive!
Fame 's a reverfion in which men take place
(O late reverfion!) at their own decease.
This truth fagacious Lintot knows fo well,
He farves his authors, that their works may fell.
That fame is wealth, fantastic poets cry;
That wealth is fame, another clan reply;
Who know no guilt, no scandal, but in rags;
And fwell in juft proportion to their bags.
Nor only the low-born, deform'd, and old,
Think glory nothing but the beams of gold;
The first young lord, which in the Mall you meet,
Shall match the verieft huncks in Lombard-treet,
From refcued candles' ends, who rais'd a fum,
And ftarves, to join a penny to a plumb.
A beardlefs mifer! 'Tis a guilt unknown
To former times, a scandal all our own.
Of ardent lovers, the true modern band
Will mortgage Celia to redeem their land.
For love, young, noble, rich, Caftalio dies ;
Name but the fair, love fwells into his eyes.
Divine Monimia, thy fond fears lay down;
No rival can prevail-but half a crown.
He glories to late times to be convey'd,
Not for the poor he has reliev'd, but made:
Not fuch ambition his great fathers fir'd,
When Harry conquer'd, and half France expir'd:
He 'd be a flave, a pimp, a dog, for gain:
Nay, a dull fheriff for his golden chain.
"Who 'd be a flave?" the gallant Colonel cries,
While love of glory fparkles from his eyes:
To deathlefs fame he loudly pleads his right-
Juf is his title for he will not fight:
All foldiers valour, all divines have grace,
As maids of honour beauty-by their place:
But, when indulging on the laft campaign,
His lofty terms climb o'er the hills of flain;
He gives the foes he flew, at each vain word,
A fweet revenge, and half abfolves his fword.
Of boafing more than of a bomb afraid,
A foldier thould be modeft as a maid:
Fame is a bubble the referv'd enjoy;
Who ftrive to grafp it, as they touch, deftroy:
'Tis the world's debt to deeds of high degree; But if you pay yourself, the world is free.
Were there no tongue to speak them but his own, Auguftus' deeds in arms had ne'er been known. Auguftus' deeds! if that ambiguous name Confounds my reader, and misguides his aim, Such is the Prince's worth, of whom I fpeak; The Roman would not blush at the mistake.
"O faireft of creation! last and best
"Of all God's works! Creature in whom excell'd, "Whatever can to fight, or thought, be form'd "Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! "How art thou loft!"
[OR reigns ambition in bold man alone;
Soft female hearts the rude invader own:
But there, indeed, it deals in nicer things,
Than routing armies, and dethroning kings:
Attend, and you difcern it in the fair
Conduct a finger, or reclaim a hair ;
Or roll the lucid orbit of an eye;
Or, in full joy, elaborate a figh.
The fex we honour, though their faults we blamė; Nay, thank their faults for such a fruitful theme: A theme, fair -! doubly kind to me,
Since fatirizing thofe is praifing thee;
Who would not bear, too modeftly refin'd,
A panegyric of a grosser kind.
Britannia's daughters, much more fair than nice, 15 Too fond of admiration, lofe their price;
Worn in the public eye, give cheap delight
To throngs, and tarnish to the fated fight:
As unreferv'd, and beauteous, as the fun,
Through every fign of vanity they run;
Assemblies, Parks, coarse feasts in City-halls,
Lectures, and Trials, Plays, Committees, Balls,
Wells, Bedlams, Executions, Smithfield fcenes,
And Fortune-tellers Caves, and Lions Dens,
Taverns, Exchanges, Bridewells, Drawing-rooms, 25
Inftallments, Pillories, Coronations, Tombs,
Tumblers, and Funerals, Puppet-fhows, Reviews,
Sales, Races, Rabbets, (and, ftill ftranger!) Pews.
Clarinda's bofom burns, but burns for Fame;
And Love lies vanquish'd in a nobler flame;
Warm gleams of hope fhe, now, difpenfes; then,
Like April funs, dives into clouds again :
With all her luftre, now, her lover warms;
Then, out of oftentation, hides her charms:
"Tis, next, her pleafure fweetly to complain,
And to be taken with a sudden pain;
Then, fhe ftarts up, all ecftafy and blifs,
And is, fweet foul! juft as fincere in this :
O how the rolls her charming eyes in fpight!
And looks delightfully with all her might!
But, like our heroes, much more brave than wife,
She conquers for the triumph, not the prize.
Zara refembles Etna crown'd with fnows; Without the freezes, and within she glows: Twice ere the fun defcends, with zeal infpir'd,
From the vain converfe of the world retir'd,
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