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Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust,
Not Fortune's worshipper nor Fashion's fool,
345 Laugh'd at the loss of friends he never had, The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the mad; The distant threats of vengeance on his head, The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed; The tale reviv'd, the lie so oft' o'erthrown, Th’imputed trash and dulness not his own; The morals blacken'd when the writings 'scape, The libell’d person, and the pictur'd shape; Abuse on all he lov'd or lov'd him spread, A friend in exile, or a father dead;
355 The whisper that, to greatness still too near, Perhaps yet vibrates on his sov’reign's ear
Welcome for thee, fair Virtue ! all the past ;
A. But why insult the poor, affront the great? 360
Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit, Sappho can tell you how this man was bit : This dreaded sat’rist Dennis will confess
370 Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress : So humble, he has knock'd at Tibbald's door, Has drunk with Cibber; nay, has rhym'd for Moore. Full ten years slander'd, did he once reply? Three thousand suns went down on Welsted's lie, 375 To please a mistress one aspers’d his life; He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife : Let Budgell charge low Grub-street on his quill, And write whate'er he pleas'd, except his Will ; Let the two Curlls of town and court abuse 380) His father, mother, body, soul, and Muse : Yet why? that father held it for a rule, It was a sin to call our neighbour Fool;
That harmless mother thought no wife a whore ;
Of gentle blood (part shed in Honour's cause,
390 And better got than Bestia’s from the throne. Born to no pride, inheriting no strife, Nor marrying discord in a noble wife, Stranger to civil and religious rage, The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age : 395 No courts he saw, no suits would ever try, Nor dar'd an oath, nor hazarded a lie. Unlearn’d, he knew no schoolman's subtle art, No language but the language of the heart. By nature honest, by experience wise,
400 Healthy by temp'rance and by exercise ; His life, tho' long, to sickness past unknown ; His death was instant, and without a groan. O grant me thus to live, and thus to die !
sprung from kings shall know less joy than I.
With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, 410