N this laft labour, this my clofing train,
Smile, Walpole, or the Nine infpire in
vain:

To thee, 'tis due ; that verfe how juftiy thine,
Where Brunfwick's glory crowns the whole defign?
That glory, which thy counfels make fo bright;
That glory, which on thee reflects a light.
Huftrious commerce. and but rarely known;
Te give, and take, a luftre from the throne.

10

Nor think that thou art foreign to my theme;
The fountain is not foreign to the fream.
How all mankind will be furpriz'd to fee
This flood of British folly charg'd on thee!
Say, Britain! whence this caprice of thy fons,
Which through their various ranks with fury runs?
The caufe is plain, a cause which we muft blefs;
For caprice is the daughter of fuccefs,
(A. bad effect, but from a pleafing caufe!)
And gives our rulers undefign'd applaufe ;

Tells how their conduct bids our wealth increase,
And lulls us in the downy lap of peace.
While I furvey the bleffings of our ifle,
Her arts triumphant in the royal fmile,
Her public wounds bound up, her credit high,
Her commerce 1preading fails in every fky,
The pleasing fcene recalls my theme again,
And hews the maduefs of ambitious men,
Who, tond of bloodfhed, draw the murdering
fword,

And burn to give mankind a single lord.

25

The follies past are of a private kind; Their fphere is fmall; their mischief is confin'd: But daring men there are (Awake, my Mufe, And raile thy verre !) who bolder phrenzy chufe; Who, fung by glory, rave, and bound away ; The world their field, and humankind their prey. The Grecian chief, th' enthusiast of his pride, With rage and terror stalking by his fide, Raves round the globe; he foars into a God! Stand faft, Olympus! and fuftain his nod. The peft divine in horrid grandeur reigns, And thrives on mankind's miferies and pains. 40 What flaughter'd lofts! what cities in a blaze! What wafted countries ! and what crimfon feas ! With orphans tears his impious bowl o'erflows, And cries of kingdoms lull him to repofe

And cannot thrice ten hundred years unpraife The boisterous boy, and blaft his guilty bays? Why want we then encomiums on the storm, Or famine or volcano? They perform Their mighty deeds; they, hero-like, can flay, And fpread their ample defarts in a day. O great alliance! O divine renown!

55

With dearth, and peftilence, to share the crown.
When men extol a wild destroyer's naine,
Earth's Builder and Proferver they blaspheme.
One to deftroy, is murder by the law;
And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe ;
To murder thousands, takes a fpecious name,
War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame.

When, after battle. I the feld have feen Spread o'er with ghaftly fhapes, which once

were men;

65

A nation crush'd, a nation of the brave!
A realm of death! and on this fide the grave!
Are there, faid I, who from this fad furvey,
This bum tu chaos, carry fmiles away ?
How did my heart with indignation rife!
How honeft nature swell'd into my eyes!
How was fhock'd to think the hero's trade
Of fuch materials, fame and triumph, made!
How guilty thefe! Yet not lefs guilty they,
Who reach falfe glory by a fmoother way:
Who wrap deftruction up in gentle words,
And bows, and fmiles, more fatal than their
fwords;

grace,

"With open arms their enemies embrace;" Who give a nod when broken hearts repine; "The thinneft food on which a wretch can dine:' Or, if they ferve you, ferve you difinclin'd, And, in their height of kindness, are unkind. Such courtiers were, and fich again may be, Waipole, when men forget to copy thee.

Here ceafe my Mule! the catalogue is writ; 85 Nor one more candidate for fame admit, Though difappointed thoufands justly blame Thy partial pen, and boat an equal claim Be this their comfort, fools, omitted here, May furnish laughter for another year. Then let Criipino, who was ne'er refus'd The juftice yet of being well abus'd, With patience wait; and be content to reign The pink of puppies in fone future ftrain.

Some future ftrain, in which the Mufe fhall tell How feience dwindles, and how volumes fwell.

How commentators cach dark pallage fhup, And hold their farthing candle to the fun. How tortur'd texts to speak our sense are made, Aud every vice is to the Scripture laid.

How mifers fquecze a young voluptuous peer; His fins to Lucifer uot half fo dear.

How verfus is lefs qualify'd to steal With fword and pistol, than with wax and feal. Hów lawyers fees to fuch excefs are run, 105 That clients are redress'd till they're undone. How one man's anguish is another's sport; And ev'n denials coft us dear at court. How man eternally falfe judgments makes, And all his joys and forrows are mistakes.

110

This fwarm of themes that fettles on my pen, Which I, like fummer flies, hake off again, Let others fing; to whom my weak essay But founds a prelude, and points out their prey : That duty done, I haften to complete 115 My own defign; for Tonfon's at the gate. The love of fame in its effect furvey'd, The Mufe has fung! be now the cause display'da Since fo diffafive, and fo wide its fway, What is this power, whom all mankind obey?

Shot from above, by heaven's indulgence, came
This generous ardor, this unconquer'd flame,
To warm, to raise, to deify, mankind,
Still barning brightest in the nobleft mind.
By large foul'd n en, for thirst of fame renown'd,
Wife lazos were fram'd, and facred arts were
found;
126

Defire of praise first broke the patriot's rest;
And ma le a bulwark of the warrior's breaft;
It bids Argyll in fields and senate shine.
What more can prove its origin divine?

But, oh! this paffion planted in the foul,
On eagle's wings to mount her to the pole,
The flaming minifter of virtue meant,

Set up falfe gods, and wrong d her high defcent.
Ambition, hence, exerts a doubtful force, 135
Of blots and beauties, an alternate source;
Hence Gilden rails, that raven of the pit,
Who thrives upon the carcafes of wit;
And in art-loving Scarborough is feen

145

How kind a pattern Polia might have been. 140
Pursuit of fame with pedants fills our schools,
And into coxcombs burnishes our fools;
Purfuit of fame makes folid leart ing bright,
And Newton lifts above a mortal height;
That key of nature by whofe wit the clears
Her long, long fecrets of five thousand years.
Would you then fully comprehend the whole,
Why, and in what degrees, pride fways the foul?
(For, though in all not equally, the reigns)
Awake to knowledge, and attend my firains.
Ye doctors! hear the doctrine I disclose,
As true, as if 'twere writ in dullest profe;
As if a letter'd dunce had said, “'Tis right,”
And imprimator usher'd it to light.

155

Ambition, in the truly noble mind,
With Sifter-virtue is for ever join'd;
As in fam'd Lucrece, who, with equal dread,
From guilt and fame, by her laft conduct,, fled:
Her virtue long rebell'd in firm disdain,
And the sword pointed at her heart in vain; 160
But, when the flave was threaten'd to be laid
Dead by her fide her Love of Fame obey'd.
In meaner minds ambition works alone;
But with fuch art puts virtue's afpect on,
That not more like in feature and in mien, 165
The God and mortal in the comic scene.

Falfe Julius, ambufh'd in this fair disguife.
Soon made the Roman liberties his prize.

No mask in basest minds ambition wears,
But in full light pricks up her afs's ears :
All I have fung are inftances of this,
And prove my theme unfolded not amifs.

Ye vain! defift from your erroneous flrife;
Be wife, and quit the falfe fublime of life.
The true ambition there alone refides,
Where juftice vindicates, and wifilom gaides;
Where inward dignity joins outward state;
Our purpose good, as our atchievement great;
Where public bloffings public praife attend;
Where glory is our motive, not our end.

Would't thou be fam d? Have thofe high deeds in view

Brave men would a&t, though feandal should ensue. Behold a Prince! whom no fwoln thoughts inflame;

دو

No pride of thrones, no fever after Fame:
But when the welfare of mankind inspires, 185
And death in view to dear-bought glory fires,
Proud conquefts then, then regal pomps delight;
Then crowns, then triumphs fparkle in his fight;
Tumult and noife are dear, which with them bring
His people's bleffings to their ardent king:
But, when thofe great heroic motives cease,
His fwelling foul fubfides to native peace;
From tedious grandeur's faded charms withdraws,
A fudden foe to fplendor and applaufe;
Greatly deferring his arrears of fame,
Till men and angels jointly fhout his name.-
O pride celestial! which can pride difdain;

O bleft ambition! which can ne'er be vain.

195

220

And fported with a king's and kingdom's fate,
Depriv'd of what the lov'd, and prefs'd by fear
Of ever lofing what she held most dear,
How did Britannia, like Achilles, weep,
And tell her forrows to the kindred deep !
Hang o'er the floods, and, in devotion warm,
Strive, for Thee, with the furge, and fight the
ftorm!

What felt thy Walpole, pilot of the realm! 225 ~ Our Palinurus flept not at the helm ;

His eye ne'er clos'd; 'ong fince enur'd to wake,
And out-watch every ftar for Brunswick s fake:
By thwarting paffions toft, by cares oppreft,
He found the tempeft pictur'd in his breaft: 230
But, now, what joys that gloom of heart difpel,
No powers of language-but his own, can tell;
His own, which nature and the graces form,
At will, to raife, or hufh, the civil ftorm,

OCEAN:

Her ftrength, her glory, is her feet;

The main the main!

Be Briton's ftrain;

"their hands."