Volume I Part 41 (1/2)
Then here's a letter finely penned Against the Craftsman and his friend: It clearly shows that all reflection On ministers is disaffection.
Next, here's Sir Robert's vindication,[20]
And Mr. Henley's last oration.[21]
The hawkers have not got them yet: Your honour please to buy a set?
”Here's Woolston's[22] tracts, the twelfth edition; 'Tis read by every politician: The country members, when in town, To all their boroughs send them down; You never met a thing so smart; The courtiers have them all by heart: Those maids of honour (who can read), Are taught to use them for their creed.[23]
The rev'rend author's good intention Has been rewarded with a pension.
He does an honour to his gown, By bravely running priestcraft down: He shows, as sure as G.o.d's in Gloucester, That Moses was a grand impostor; That all his miracles were cheats, Perform'd as jugglers do their feats: The church had never such a writer; A shame he has not got a mitre!”
Suppose me dead; and then suppose A club a.s.sembled at the Rose; Where, from discourse of this and that, I grow the subject of their chat.
And while they toss my name about, With favour some, and some without, One, quite indiff'rent in the cause, My character impartial draws: The Dean, if we believe report, Was never ill receiv'd at court.
As for his works in verse and prose I own myself no judge of those; Nor can I tell what critics thought 'em: But this I know, all people bought 'em.
As with a moral view design'd To cure the vices of mankind: And, if he often miss'd his aim, The world must own it, to their shame, The praise is his, and theirs the blame.
”Sir, I have heard another story: He was a most confounded Tory, And grew, or he is much belied, Extremely dull, before he died.”
Can we the Drapier then forget?
Is not our nation in his debt?
'Twas he that writ the Drapier's letters!-- ”He should have left them for his betters, We had a hundred abler men, Nor need depend upon his pen.-- Say what you will about his reading, You never can defend his breeding; Who in his satires running riot, Could never leave the world in quiet; Attacking, when he took the whim, Court, city, camp--all one to him.-- ”But why should he, except he s...o...b..r't, Offend our patriot, great Sir Robert, Whose counsels aid the sov'reign power To save the nation every hour?
What scenes of evil he unravels In satires, libels, lying travels!
Not sparing his own clergy-cloth, But eats into it, like a moth!”
His vein, ironically grave, Exposed the fool, and lash'd the knave.
To steal a hint was never known, But what he writ was all his own.[24]
”He never thought an honour done him, Because a duke was proud to own him, Would rather slip aside and chuse To talk with wits in dirty shoes; Despised the fools with stars and garters, So often seen caressing Chartres.[25]
He never courted men in station, _Nor persons held in admiration;_ Of no man's greatness was afraid, Because he sought for no man's aid.
Though trusted long in great affairs He gave himself no haughty airs: Without regarding private ends, Spent all his credit for his friends; And only chose the wise and good; No flatterers; no allies in blood: But succour'd virtue in distress, And seldom fail'd of good success; As numbers in their hearts must own, Who, but for him, had been unknown.
”With princes kept a due decorum, But never stood in awe before 'em.
He follow'd David's lesson just; _In princes never put thy trust:_ And would you make him truly sour, Provoke him with a slave in power.
The Irish senate if you named, With what impatience he declaim'd!
Fair LIBERTY was all his cry, For her he stood prepared to die; For her he boldly stood alone; For her he oft exposed his own.
Two kingdoms,[26] just as faction led, Had set a price upon his head; But not a traitor could be found, To sell him for six hundred pound.
”Had he but spared his tongue and pen He might have rose like other men: But power was never in his thought, And wealth he valued not a groat: Ingrat.i.tude he often found, And pitied those who meant the wound: But kept the tenor of his mind, To merit well of human kind: Nor made a sacrifice of those Who still were true, to please his foes.
He labour'd many a fruitless hour, To reconcile his friends in power; Saw mischief by a faction brewing, While they pursued each other's ruin.
But finding vain was all his care, He left the court in mere despair.[27]
”And, oh! how short are human schemes!
Here ended all our golden dreams.
What St. John's skill in state affairs, What Ormond's valour, Oxford's cares, To save their sinking country lent, Was all destroy'd by one event.
Too soon that precious life was ended, On which alone our weal depended.[28]
When up a dangerous faction starts,[29]
With wrath and vengeance in their hearts; _By solemn League and Cov'nant bound,_ To ruin, slaughter, and confound; To turn religion to a fable, And make the government a Babel; Pervert the laws, disgrace the gown, Corrupt the senate, rob the crown; To sacrifice old England's glory, And make her infamous in story: When such a tempest shook the land, How could unguarded Virtue stand!
With horror, grief, despair, the Dean Beheld the dire destructive scene: His friends in exile, or the tower, Himself[30] within the frown of power, Pursued by base envenom'd pens, Far to the land of slaves and fens;[31]
A servile race in folly nursed, Who truckle most, when treated worst.
”By innocence and resolution, He bore continual persecution; While numbers to preferment rose, Whose merits were, to be his foes; When _ev'n his own familiar friends_, Intent upon their private ends, Like renegadoes now he feels, _Against him lifting up their heels._ ”The Dean did, by his pen, defeat An infamous destructive cheat;[32]
Taught fools their int'rest how to know, And gave them arms to ward the blow.
Envy has own'd it was his doing, To save that hapless land from ruin; While they who at the steerage stood, And reap'd the profit, sought his blood.
”To save them from their evil fate, In him was held a crime of state, A wicked monster on the bench,[33]