Beneath this load what abject numbers groan,
Th' entangled slaves to folly not their own!
Meanly by fashionable fear opprest,
We seek our virtues in each other's breast;
Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign vice,
Another's weakness, interest, or caprice.
Each fool to low ambition, poorly great,
That pines in splendid wretchedness of state, -70
Tir'd in the treach'rous chace, would nobly yield,
And but for shame, like SYLLA, quit the field :
The daemon Shame paints strong the ridicule,
And whispers close, “the world will call you fool.”.

Behold, yon wretch, by impious fashion driv’n, Belieyes and trembles while he scoffs at heav'n. By weakness strong, and bold through fear alone, He dreads the sneer by shallow coxcombs thrown ; Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod; To man a coward, and a brave to God,

80

Faith, Justice, Heav'n itself now quit their hold, When to False Fame the captiv'd heart is sold : Hence blind to truth, relentles Cato dy'd : Nought could subdue his virtue, but his pride. Hence chaste Lucretia's innocence betray'd Fell by that honor which was meant its aid. Thus Virtue sinks beneath unnumber'd woes, When passions born her friends, revolt, her foes.

Hence SATIRE's pow'r: 'tis her corrective part
To calm the wild disorders of the heart. go
She points the arduous height where glory lies,
And teaches mad Ambition to be wise :
In the dark bosom wakes the fair desire,
Draws good from ill, a brighter flame from fire ;
Strips black Oppression of her gay disguise,
And bids the hag in native horror rise ;
Strikes tow'ring pride and lawless rapine dead,
And plants the wreath on Virtue's awful head.

Nor boasts the Muse a vain imagin’d pow'r, Though oft she mourns those ills she cannot cure. - 100 The worthy court her, and the worthless fear; Who shun her piercing eye, that eye revere. Her awful voice the vain and vile obey, And every foe to wisdom feels her sway. Smarts, pedants, as she smiles, no more are vain ; Desponding fops resign the clouded cane: Hush'd at her voice, pert folly's self is still, And dulness wonders while she drops her quill. Like the arm’d Bee, with art most subtly true From pois’nous vice she draws a healing dew: 110 Weak are the ties that civil arts can find, To quell the ferment of the tainted mind : Cunning evades, securely wrapt in wiles; And Force strong-sinew'd rends th' unequal toils : The stream of vice impetuous drives along, Too deep for policy, for pow'r too strong.

Ev'n fair Religion, native of the skies,
Scorn'd by the crowd, seeks refuge with the wise ;
The crowd with laughter spurns her awful train,
And Mercy courts, and Justice frowns in vain.

120
But SATIRE's shaft can pierce the harden'd breast;
She plays a ruling passion on the rest :
Undaunted mounts the battery of his pride,
And awes the Brave, that earth and heav'n defy'd.
When fell Corruption, by her vassals crown'd,
Derides fallin Justice prostrate on the ground;
Swift to redress an injur'd people's groan,
Bold SATIRE shakes the tyrant on her throne;
Pow'rful as death, defies the sordid train,
And slaves and sycophants surround in vain.

130

But with the friends of Vice, the foes of SATIRE, All truth is spleen; all just reproof, ill.nature.

Well may they dread the Muse's fatal skill; Well may they tremble when she draws her quill: Her magic quill, that like ITHURIEL's spear Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen'd ear: Bids Vice and Folly take their natural shapes, Turns duchesses to strumpets, beaux to apes ; Drags the vile whisperer from his dark abode, *Till all the daemon starts up from the toad. 140

O sordid maxim, form'd to screen the vile, That true good-nature still must wear a smile!

In frowns array’d her beauties stronger rise,
When love of virtue wakes her scorn of vice :
Where justice calls, 'tis cruelty to save;
And 'tis the law's good-nature hangs the knave.
Who combats Virtue's foe is Virtue's friend ;
Then judge of SATIRE's merit by her end :
To guilt alone her vengeance stands confin’d,
The object of her love is all mankind.

150
Scarce more the friend of man, the wise must own,
Ev'n Allen's bounteous hand, than Satire's frown:
This to chastise, as that to bless, was giv’n;
Alike the faithful ministérs of heav'n.

Oft on unfeeling hearts the shaft is spent : Though strong th’ example, weak the punishment. They least are pain’d, who merit SATIRE most; Folly the Laureate's, Vice was Chartres' boast; Then where's the wrong, to gibbet high the name Of fools and knaves already dead to shame?

160 Oft'SATIRE acts the faithful surgeon's part; Generous and kind, though painful is her art: With caution bold, she only strikes to heal, Tho' folly raves to break the friendly steel. Then sure no fault impartial SATIRE knows.... Kind, ev’n in vengeance kind, to Virtue's foes. Whose is the crime, the scandal too be theirs; The knave and fool are their own libellers,

PART II.

DARE

E nobly then: but conscious of your trust,
As ever warm and bold, be ever just :
Nor court applause in these degenerate days:
The villain's censure is extorted praise.

10

But chief, be steady 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 lost to honor's voice, O doom'd to shame,
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,
Or what repay thy guilt, but endless scorn!
And know, immortal truth shall mock thy toil :
Immortal truth shall bid the shaft recoil ;, ro
With rage retorted, wing the deadly dart;
And empty all its poison in thy heart.

With caution, next, the dang’rous power apply ; An eagle's talon asks an eagle's eye: