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A. 'Tis your belief the world was made for man; Kings do but reason on the self-sáme plan; Maintaining your's, you cannot their's condemn, Who think, or seem to think, man made for them.
B. Seļdom, alas! the power of logic reigns
Oh! bright occasions of dispensing good,
To touch the sword with conscientious awe,
A. Guard what you say; the patriotic tribe Will sneer and charge you with a bribe.-B. A
bribe? The worth of his three kingdoms I defy, To lure me to the baseness of a lie. And, of all lies, (be that one poet's boast) The lie that flatters I abhor the most. Those arts be their’s, who hate his gentle reign, But he that loves him has no need to feign.
A. Your smooth eulogium toonecrown addressed, Seems to imply a censure on the rest.
B. Quevedo, as he tells his sober tale, Asked, when in hell, to see the royal jail; Approved their method in all other things; But where, good sir, do you confine your kings? There-said his guide--the group is full in view, Indeed ?-replied the Don-there are but few. His black interpreter the charge disdained Few, fellow - There are all that ever reigned. Wit, undistinguishing, is apt to strike The guilty and not guilty both alike. I grant the sarcasm is too severe, And we can readily refute it here; While Alfred's name, the father of his age, And the Sixth Edward's grace the historic page.
A. Kings then at last have but the lot of all, By their own conduct they must stand or fall.
B.True. Whilethey live, the courtly laureat pays His quit-rent ode, his pepper-corn of praise; And many a dunce whose fingers itch to write, Adds, as he can, bis tributary mite; A subject's faults a subject may proclaim, A monarch's errors are forbidden game! Thus free from censure, over-awed by fear, And praised' for virtues, that they scorn to wear, The fleeting forms of majesty engage Respect, while stalking over life's narrow stage; Then leave their crimes for history to scan, And ask with busy scorn, Was this the man?
I pity kings, whom worship waits upon Obsequious from the cradle to the tlırone; Before whose infant eyes the fatterer bows, And binds a wreath about their baby brows; Whom education stiffens into state, And death awakens from that dream too late. Oh! if servility with supple knees, Whose trade it is to smile, to crouch, to please; If smooth dissimulation, skilled to grace A devil's purpose with an angel's face; If smiling peeresses, and simpering peers, Encompassing his throne a few short years ; If the gilt carriage and the pampered steed, That wants no driving, and disdains the lead; If guards, mechanically formed in ranks, Playing, at beat of drum, their martial prauks,
Shouldering and standing as if stuck to stone,
To be suspected, thwarted, and withstood,
To be the Table Talk of clubs up stairs,
However humble and confined the spirere,
A.Thus men, whose thoughts contemplative have
B. Not Brindley nor Bridgewater would essay To turn the course of Helicon that way; Nor would the Nine consent the sacred tide Should purl amidst the traffic of Cheapside, Or tinkle in 'Change Alley, to amuse The leathern ears of stock-jobbers and jews.
A. Vouchsafe, at least, to pitch the key of rhyme To themes more pertinent, if less sublime. When ministers and ministerial arts; Patriots, who lore good places at their hearts; When admirals, extolled for standing still, Or doing nothing with a deal of skill; Generals, who will not conquer when they may, Firm friends to peace, to pleasure, and good pay;