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ARE nobly then: But conscious of
As ever warm and bold be ever juft:
Nor court applause in these degen'rate days:
The Villain's cenfure is extorted praise.
But chief, be fteady in a noble end,
And shew Mankind that Truth has yet a friend.
'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write,
As Foplings grin to show their teeth are white:
To brand a doubtful folly with a smile,
Or madly blaze unknown defects, is vile :
'Tis doubly vile, when, but to prove your art,
You fix an arrow in a blameless heart.
O loft to honour's voice, O doom'd to fhame,
Thou Fiend accurs'd, thou Murderer of Fame !
Fell Ravisher, from Innocence to tear
That name, than liberty, than life more dear!
Where shall thy baseness meet its just return, 185
Or what repay thy guilt, but endless fcorn!
And know, immortal Truth shall mock thy toil:
Immortal Truth fhall bid the shaft recoil,
With rage retorted, wing the deadly dart;
And empty all its poyfon in thy heart.
With caution next, the dang'rous pow'r apply;
An eagle's talon asks an eagle's eye:
Let SATIRE then her proper object know,
And ere she strike, be sure she strike a foe.
Nor fondly deem the real fool confeft,
Because blind Ridicule conceives a jest:
Before whose altar Virtue oft hath bled,
And oft a destin'd Victim fhall be led:
Lo, Shaftfb'ry rears her high on Reason's throne,
And loads the Slave with honours not her own:
Big-fwoln with folly, as her smiles provoke, 201
Prophaneness spawns, pert Dunces nurse the joke!
Come, let us join a while this tittering crew,
And own the Ideot Guide for once is true;
Deride our weak forefather's mufty rule,
Who therefore fmil'd, because they faw a Fool;
Sublimer logic now adorns our ifle,
We therefore fee a Fool, because we fmile.
Truth in her gloomy Cave why fondly feek?
Lo, gay fhe fits in Laughter's dimpled cheek:
Contemns each furly Academic foe,
And courts the spruce Freethinker and the Beau.
Dadalian arguments but few can trace,
But all can read the Language of grimace.
Hence mighty Ridicule's all-conquʼring hand 215
Shall work Herculean wonders thro' the Land:
Bound in the magic of her cobweb chain,
You, mighty WARBURTON, shall rage
In vain the tracklefs maze of Truth You fcan,
And lend th' informing Clue to erring Man: 220
No more shall Reason boast her pow'r divine,
Her Base eternal shook by Folly's mine!
Truth's facred Fort th' exploded laugh shall win;
And Coxcombs vanquish BERKLEY by a grin.
But you, more fage, reject th' inverted rule, 225 That truth is e'er explor'd by Ridicule : On truth, on falsehood let her colours fall, She throws a dazzling glare alike on all; A's the gay Prism but mocks the flatter'd And gives to ev'ry object ev'ry dye. Beware the mad Advent'rer: bold and blind She hoifts her fail, and drives with ev'ry wind; Deaf as the Storm to finking Virtue's groan, Nor heeds a Friend's deftruction, or her own..
Let clear-ey'd Reason at the helm preside,
Bear to the wind, or ftem the furious tide;
Then Mirth may urge, when Reafon can explore,
This point the way, that waft us glad to shore.
Tho' diftant Times may rife in SATIRE's page, Yet chief 'tis Her's to draw the present Age: 240 With Wisdom's luftre, Folly's fhade contrast, And judge the reigning Manners by the past: Bid Britain's Heroes (awful Shades !) arise, And ancient Honour beam on modern Vice: Point back to minds ingenuous, actions fair, 245 Till the Sons blush at what their Fathers were: Ere yet 'twas beggary the great to trust; Ere yet 'twas quite a folly to be juft; When low-born Sharpers only dar'd a lie, Or falfify'd the card, or cogg'd the dye; 250 Ere Lewdness the ftain'd garb of Honour wore, Or Chastity was carted for the Whore ; Vice flutter'd, in the plumes of Freedom drefs'd; Or public Spirit was the public jeft.
Be ever, in a juft expreflion, bold,
Yet ne'er degrade fair SATIRE to a Scold:
Let no unworthy mien her form debase,
But let her fmile, and let her frown with grace:
In mirth be temp'rate, temp'rate in her fpleen;
Nor, while fhe preaches modefty, obscene.
Deep let her wound, not rankle to a fore,
Nor call his Lordship —, her Grace a
The Mufe's charms refiftless then affail,
When wrapt in Irony's transparent veil :
Her beauties half-conceal'd the more furprize, 265
And keener luftre sparkles in her eyes.
your line with sharp encomiums grac❜d:
Style Clodius honourable, Bufa chaste.
Dart not on Folly an indignant eye: Who e'er discharg'd Artillery on a Fly? 270 Deride not Vice: Abfurd the thought and vain, To bind the Tyger in fo weak a chain.
Nay more: when flagrant crimes your laughter
The Knave exults: to fmile is to approve.
The Muse's labour then fuccefs fhall crown, 275
When Folly feels her smile, and Vice her frown.
Know next what Measures to each Theme belong, And fuit your thoughts and numbers to your fong: