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Point back to minds ingenuous, actions fair,

Till the Sons blush at what their Fathers were:
Ere yet 'twas beggary the great to trust;

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Ere yet 'twas quite a folly to be just;
When low-born Sharpers only dar'd a lye,
Or falfify'd the card, or cogg'd the Dye;

Ere Lewdness the ftain'd garb of Honour wore,
Or Chastity was carted for the Whore;

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Vice flutter'd, in the plumes of Freedom drefs'd; Or public Spirit was the public jeft.

Be ever, in a juft expreffion, bold,

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:
In mirth be temp'rate, temp'rate in her fpleen;
Nor, while fhe preaches modefty, obscene.
Deep let her wound, not rankle to a fore,
Nor call his Lordship

her Grace a

The Mufe's charms refiftlefs then affail,
When wrapt in Irony's tranfparent veil :

:

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Her beauties half-conceal'd the more furprize, 265
And keener luftre fparkles in her eyes.

Then be your line with fharp encomiums grac❜d:
Style Clodius honourable, Bufa chafte.

Dart not on Folly an indignant eye: Who e'er discharg'd Artillery on a Fly?

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Deride not Vice: Abfurd the thought and vain,
To bind the Tiger in fo weak a chain.

Nay more: when flagrant crimes your laughter move,
The Knave exults: to fmile is to approve.

The Mufe's labour then fuccefs fhall crown,

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When Folly feels her fmile, and Vice her frown.

Know next what measures to each Theme belong, And fuit your thoughts and numbers to your fong: On wing proportion'd to your quarry rife,

And floop to earth, or foar among the skies.
Thus when a modifh folly you rehearse,
Free the expreffion, fimple be the verse.
In artless numbers paint th' ambitious Peer,
That mounts the box, and fhines a Charioteer:
In ftrains familiar fing the midnight toil
Of Camps and Senates difciplin'd by Hoyle;
Patriots and Chiefs, whofe deep design invades
And carries off the captive King-of Spades!
Let SATIRE here in milder vigour fhine,
And gayly graceful sport along the line;

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Bid courtly Fashion quit her thin pretence,
And fmile each Affectation into fenfe.

Not fo when Virtue by her Guards betray'd, Spurn'd from her Throne, implores the Mufe's aid: When crimes, which erst in kindred darkness lay, Rife frontless, and insult the eye of day;

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Indignant Hymen veils his hallow'd fires,
And white rob'd Chaftity with tears retires
When rank Adultery on the genial bed
Hot from Cocytus rears her baleful head:

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When private Faith and public Trust are fold,
And Traitors barter Liberty for gold:

When fell Corruption dark and deep, like fate,
Saps the foundation of a finking State:
When Giant-Vice and Irreligion rife,

rage:

On mountain'd falfhoods to invade the fkies:
Then warmer numbers glow thro' SATIRE'S
And all her fmiles are darken'd into
On eagle-wing fhe gains Parnaffus' height,
Not lofty Eric foars a nobler flight:
Then keener indignation fires her eye ;

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page,

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Then flash her lightnings, and her thunders fly; Wide and more wide her flaming bolts are hurl'd, Till all her wrath involves the guilty World.

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Yet SATIRE oft affumes a gentler mien,
And beams on Virtue's friends a fmile ferente:
She wounds reluctant; pours her balm with joy ;
Glad to commend where Worth attracts her eye.
But chief, when Virtue, Learning, Arts decline,
She joys to fee unconquer'd merit fhine;
Where bursting glorious, with departing ray,
True Genius gilds the close of Britain's Day:
With joy fhe fees the ftream of Roman art
From MURRAY's tongue flow purer to the heart:
VOL. III.

B

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Sees YORKE to Fame, e'er yet to Manhood known,
And just to ev'ry virtue, but his own:

Hears unftain'd CAM with generous pride proclaim
A.SAGE'S, CRITIC's, and a POET's name:
Beholds, where WIDCOMBE's happy hills afcend,
Each orphan'd Art and Virtue find a friend : 326
To HAGLEY'S honour'd Shade directs her view;
And culls each flow'r, to form a Wreath for You.

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But tread with cautious ftep this dang'rous ground, Befet with faithlefs precipices round: Truth be your guide: difdain Ambition's call; And if you fall with Truth, you greatly fall. 'Tis Virtue's native luftre that must shine; The Poet can but set it in his line :

And who unmov'd with laughter can behold

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A fordid pebble meanly grac'd with gold?
Let real Merit then adorn your lays,
For Shame attends on proftituted praise:
And all your wit, your moft diftinguish'd art

But makes us grieve you want an honeft heart. 340

Nor think the Muse by SATIRE's Law confin'd: She yields description of the noblest kind. Inferior art the Landfkip may defign, And paint the purple ev'ning in the line: Her daring thought effays a higher plan; Her hand delineates Paffion, pictures Man.

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And great the toil, the latent foul to trace,
To paint the heart, and catch internal grace;
By turns bid Vice or Virtue ftrike our eyes,
Now bid a Wolfey or a Cromwell rife;

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Now with a touch more facred and refin'd,
Call forth a CHESTERFIELD's or LONSDALE's mind.
Here sweet or ftrong may ev'ry Colour flow:
Here let the pencil warm, the canvass glow:
Of light and shade provoke the noble strife,
And wake each ftriking feature into life.

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