Volume I Part 43 (2/2)

From bad to worse, and worse they fall; But who can reach the worst of all?

For though, in nature, depth and height Are equally held infinite: In poetry, the height we know; 'Tis only infinite below.

For instance: when you rashly think, No rhymer can like Welsted sink, His merits balanced, you shall find The Laureate leaves him far behind.

Concanen,[25] more aspiring bard, Soars downward deeper by a yard.

Smart Jemmy Moore[26] with vigour drops; The rest pursue as thick as hops: With heads to point the gulf they enter, Link'd perpendicular to the centre; And as their heels elated rise, Their heads attempt the nether skies.

O, what indignity and shame, To prost.i.tute the Muses' name!

By flattering kings, whom Heaven design'd The plagues and scourges of mankind; Bred up in ignorance and sloth, And every vice that nurses both.

Perhaps you say, Augustus s.h.i.+nes, Immortal made in Virgil's lines, And Horace brought the tuneful quire, To sing his virtues on the lyre; Without reproach for flattery, true, Because their praises were his due.

For in those ages kings, we find, Were animals of human kind.

But now, go search all _Europe_ round Among the _savage monsters_ ---- With vice polluting every _throne_, (I mean all thrones except our own;) In vain you make the strictest view To find a ---- in all the crew, With whom a footman out of place Would not conceive a high disgrace, A burning shame, a crying sin, To take his morning's cup of gin.

Thus all are destined to obey Some beast of burthen or of prey.

'Tis sung, Prometheus,[27] forming man, Through all the brutal species ran, Each proper quality to find Adapted to a human mind; A mingled ma.s.s of good and bad, The best and worst that could be had; Then from a clay of mixture base He shaped a ---- to rule the race, Endow'd with gifts from every brute That best the * * nature suit.

Thus think on ----s: the name denotes Hogs, a.s.ses, wolves, baboons, and goats.

To represent in figure just, Sloth, folly, rapine, mischief, l.u.s.t; Oh! were they all but Neb-cadnezers, What herds of ----s would turn to grazers!

Fair Britain, in thy monarch blest, Whose virtues bear the strictest test; Whom never faction could bespatter, Nor minister nor poet flatter; What justice in rewarding merit!

What magnanimity of spirit!

What lineaments divine we trace Through all his figure, mien, and face!

Though peace with olive binds his hands, Confess'd the conquering hero stands.

Hydaspes,[28] Indus, and the Ganges, Dread from his hand impending changes.

From him the Tartar and Chinese, Short by the knees,[29] entreat for peace.

The consort of his throne and bed, A perfect G.o.ddess born and bred, Appointed sovereign judge to sit On learning, eloquence, and wit.

Our eldest hope, divine Iulus,[30]

(Late, very late, O may he rule us!) What early manhood has he shown, Before his downy beard was grown, Then think, what wonders will be done By going on as he begun, An heir for Britain to secure As long as sun and moon endure.

The remnant of the royal blood Comes pouring on me like a flood.

Bright G.o.ddesses, in number five; Duke William, sweetest prince alive.

Now sing the minister of state, Who s.h.i.+nes alone without a mate.

Observe with what majestic port This Atlas stands to prop the court: Intent the public debts to pay, Like prudent Fabius,[31] by delay.

Thou great vicegerent of the king, Thy praises every Muse shall sing!

In all affairs thou sole director; Of wit and learning chief protector, Though small the time thou hast to spare, The church is thy peculiar care.

Of pious prelates what a stock You choose to rule the sable flock!

You raise the honour of the peerage, Proud to attend you at the steerage.

You dignify the n.o.ble race, Content yourself with humbler place.

Now learning, valour, virtue, sense, To t.i.tles give the sole pretence.

St. George beheld thee with delight, Vouchsafe to be an azure knight, When on thy breast and sides Herculean, He fix'd the star and string cerulean.

Say, poet, in what other nation Shone ever such a constellation!

Attend, ye Popes, and Youngs, and Gays, And tune your harps, and strew your bays: Your panegyrics here provide; You cannot err on flattery's side.

Above the stars exalt your style, You still are low ten thousand mile.

On Lewis all his bards bestow'd Of incense many a thousand load; But Europe mortified his pride, And swore the fawning rascals lied.

Yet what the world refused to Lewis, Applied to George, exactly true is.

Exactly true! invidious poet!

'Tis fifty thousand times below it.

Translate me now some lines, if you can, From Virgil, Martial, Ovid, Lucan.

They could all power in Heaven divide, And do no wrong on either side; They teach you how to split a hair, Give George and Jove an equal share.[32]

Yet why should we be laced so strait?

I'll give my monarch b.u.t.ter-weight.

And reason good; for many a year Jove never intermeddled here: Nor, though his priests be duly paid, Did ever we desire his aid: We now can better do without him, Since Woolston gave us arms to rout him.

_Caetera desiderantur_.

[Footnote 1: See Young's ”Satires,” and ”Life” by Johnson.--_W. E. B._]

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