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PART II.

N ARE nobly then: But conscious of your

trust, As ever warm and bold, be ever just: 170 Nor court applause in these degen’rate days : The Villain's censure is extorted praise.

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, 175 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. 180 O lost to honour'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! 185 Or what repay thy guilt, but endless scorn? And know, immortal Truth shall mock thy toil; Immortal Truth shall bid the shaft recoil ;

With rage retorted, wing the deadly dart ;
And empty all its poison in thy heart. 190

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 confest, 195
Because blind Ridicule conceives a jest:
Before whose altar Virtue oft hath bled,
And oft a destin'd-Victim shall be led :
Lo, Shaftsbry rears her high on Reason's throne,
And loads the Slave with honours not herown: 200
Big-fwoln with folly, as her smiles provoke,
Prophaneness spawns, pert Dunces nurse the joke!
Come, let us join a while this titt’ring crew,
And own the Ideot Guide for once is true;
Deride our weak forefathers' musty rule, 205
Who therefore smild, because they saw a Fool;
Sublimer logic now adorns our isle,
We therefore see a Fool, because we smile.

Truth in her gloomy Cave why fondly seek?
Lo, gay she fits in Laughter’s dimple cheek: 210
Contemns each surly 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-conqu’ring hand 215
Shall work Herculean wonders thro’ the Land :
Bound in the magic of her cob-web chain,
You, mighty WARBURTON, shall rage in vain,
In vain the trackless maze of Truth you scan,
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 sage, reject th’inverted rule, 225 That Truth is e’er explor'd by Ridicule : On truth, on fallhood let her colours fall, She throws a dazzling glare alike on all ; As the gay Prism but mocks the flatter'd eye, And gives to ev'ry object ev'ry dye. 230 Beware the mad Advent'rer : bold and blind She hoists her fail, and drives with ev'ry wind; Deaf as the storm to sinking Virtue's groan, Nor heeds a Friend's destruction, or her own. Let clear-ey'd Reason at the helm preside, 235 Bear to the wind, or stem the furious tide ;

Then Mirth may urge, when Reason can explore,
This point the way, that waft us glad to shore.

Tho' distant Times may rise in SATIRE's page,
Yet chief 'tis Her's to draw the present Age: 240
With Wisdom's lustre, Folly's shade 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 just;
When low-born Sharpers only dar'd a lie,
Or falsify'd the card, or cogg'd the dye ; . 250
Ere Lewdness the stain'd garb of Honour wore,
Or Chastity was carted for the Whore;
Vice flutter'd, in the plumes of Freedom dress’d;
Or public Spirit was the public jest,

Be ever, in a just expression, bold, 255
Yet ne'er degrade fair SATIRE to a Scold :
Let no unworthy mien her form debase,
But let her smile, and let her frown with grace:

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In mirth be temp’rate, temp’rate in her spleen;
Nor, while she preaches modesty, obscene. 260
Deep let her wound, not rankle to a fore,
Nor call his Lordship ----, her Grace a ----:
The Muse's charms resistless then affail,
When wrapt in Irony's transparent veil :
Her beauties half conceal’d, the more surprize,
And keener lustre sparkles in her eyes. 266
Then be 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: Absurd the thought and vain, To bind the Tiger in so weak a chain. Nay more: when flagrant crimes your laughter

move, The Knave exults: to smile is to approve. The Muse’s labour then fuccess shall crown, 275 When Folly feels her smile, and Vice her frown.

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Know next what measures to each Theme be

long, And suit your thoughts and numbers to your

fong : Vol. III.

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