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Should own the tackling trim, the streamers fine,
Such is thy pow'r, O Goddess of the song, Come then and guide my careless pen along 150 Yet keep it in the bounds of sense and verse, Nor, like Mac-Homer, make me gabble Erse. No, let the flow of these spontaneous rhymes Su truly touch the temper of the times, That he who runs may read; while well he knows I write in metre, what he thinks in prose ; So shall my song, undisciplin’d by art, Find a sure patron in each English leart. If this its fate, let all the frippery things Be-plac'd, be-pension’d, and be-starr'd by Kings, bo Frown on the page, and with fastidious eye, Like old young Fannias, call it blasphemy. Let these prefer a levee's harmless talk, Be ask'd how often, and how far they walk, Proud of a single word, nor hope for more, Tho' Jenkinson is blest with many a score; For other cars my honest number sound, With other praise those numbers shall be crown'd, Praise that shall spread, no pow'r can make it less, While Britain boasts the bulwark of her press. Yo Yes, sons of Freedom! yes, to whom I pay, Warm from the heart, this tributary lay; That lay shall live, tho' Court and Grub-street sigh,
Your young Marcellus was not born to die.
Whate'er his fame or fate, on this depend He is, and means to be, his country's friend. 'Tis but to try his strength that now he sports With Chinese gardens, and with Chinese courts : But if that country claim a graver strain, If real danger threat fair Freedom's reign, If hireling Peers, in prostitution bold, Sell her as cheaply as themselves they sold; Or they, who honor'd by the People's choice, Against that People lift their rebel voice, And basely crouching for their paltry pay, Vote the best birthright of her sons away, Permit a Nation's in-born wealth to Aly In mean, unkingly prodigality; joo Nor, e'er they give, ask how the sums were spent, So quickly squander'd, tho' so lately lent
If this they dare, the thunder of his song,
ART OF POLITICS,
IN IMITATION OF
HORACE's ART OF POETRY.
REV. MR. BRAMSTON.
IF to an human face Sir James should draw
Painters, You'll say, may their own fancies use, And free-born Britons may
their party choose : That's true, I own: but can one piece be drawn For dove and dragon, elephant and fawn?
Speakers profess'd, who gravity pretend, With motley sentiments their speeches blend;
Begin like patriots, and like courtiers end.
Outsides deceive, 'tis hard the truth to know, Parties from quaint denominations flow, As Scotch and Irish antiquaries show. The low are said to take Fanatics parts, The high are bloody Papists in their hearts. 30 Caution and fear to highest faults have run; In pleasing both the parties, you please none. Who in the house affects declaiming airs, Whales in Change-alley paints: in Fish-street, bears. Some metaphors, some handkerchiefs display, These peep in hats, while those with buttons play, And make me think it Repetition-day; There knights haranguing hug a neighbʼring post, And are but quorum orators at most. Sooner than thus my want of sense expose, 40 I'll deck out bandy-legs with gold-clock'd hose, Or wear a toupet-wig without a nose.