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The Worthy court her, and the Worthless fear ;
IMITATIONS. Ver. 110. From poys'nous l'ire, eti] Alluding to these Lines of Mr. Pope ;
In the nice Bee what Art so subtly true
Undaunted storms the batt'ry of his pride,
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, 135 Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen’d ear : Bids Vice and Folly take their nat’ral shapes, Turns Duchesses to strumpets, Beaux to apes; Drags the vile Whisp'rer from his dark abode, ?Till all the Dæmon starts up from the toad. 140
O sordid maxim, form'd to skreen 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 ; 145
Oft in unfeeling hearts the shaft is spent : 155
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 cenfure 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 it's 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 ;
empty all it's poyson in thy heart.
With caution next, the dang'rous pow'r apply i 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 lead : Lo, Shaftsb'ry rears her high on Reason's throne, And loads the Slave with honours not her own : Big-swoln with folly, as her smiles provoke, 201 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 forefather's musty rule, 205 Who therefore smild, because they saw a Fool ; Sublimer logic now adorns our ille, We therefore see a Fool, because we smile. Truth in her gloomy Cave why fondly seek ? Lo, gay she sits in Laughter's dimpled cheek : Contemns each surly Academic foe, And courts the spruce Freethinker and the Bcau.