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Heaven, when it strives to polish all it can
Its last best work, but forms a softer man;
Picks from each sex, to make the favourite blest,
Your love of pleasure, our desire of rest;
Blends, in exception to all general rules,
Your taste of follies with our scorn of fools;
Reserve with frankness, art with truth ally'd,
Courage with softness, modesty with pride;
Fix'd principles with fancy ever new;
Shakes all together, and produces--you.

Be this a woman's fame; with this unblest,
Toasts live a scorn, and queens may die a jest.
This Phæbus promis'd (I forget the year)
When those blue eyes first open'd on the sphere;
Ascendant Phæbus watch'd that hour with care,
Averted half your parents' simple prayer;
Aud gave you beauty, but deny'd the pelf
That buys your sex a tyrant o'er itself.
The generous god, who wit and gold refines,
And ripens spirits as he ripens mine,
Kept dross for duchesses, the world shall know it,
To you gave sense, good-humour, and a poet.

LPISTLE III.

TO ALLEN, LORD BATHURST.

ARGUMENT.

of the Use of Riches.

That it is known to few, most falling into one of the

extremes, avarice or profusion, ver. 10, &c. The point discussed, whether the invention of money, has been more commodious or pernicious to man. kind, ver. 21 to 77. That riches, either to the avaricious or the prodigal, cannot afford happiness, scarcely necessaries, ver. 89 to 160. That avarice is an absolute frenzy, without an end or purpose, ver. 113, &c. 152. Conjectures about the motives of avaricious men, ver. 121 to 153. . That the conduct of men with respect to riches, can only be accounted for by the order of Providence, which works the general good out of extremes, and brings all to its great end by perpetual revolutions, ver. 161 to 178. How a miser acts upon principles which appear to bim reasonable, ver. 179. How a prodigal does the same, ver. 199. The true medium, and true use of riches, ver. 219. The man of Ross, ver. 250. The fate of the profuse and the covetous, in two examples; both miserable in life and in death, ver. 300, &c. The story of Sir Balaam, ver. 339 to the end.

This Epistle was written after a violent outcry against our author, on a supposition that he had ridiculed a worthy nobleman, merely for his wrong taste. He justified himself upon that article in a letter to the Earl of Burlington; at the end of which are these words: I have learnt that there are some who would rather be wicked than ridiculous: and therefore it may be safer to attack vices than follies. I will therefore leave my betters in the quiet possession of their idols, their groves, and their highplaces; and change my subject from their pride to their meanness, from their vanities to their miseries; and as the only certain way to avoid misconstruc. tions, to lessen offence, and not to multiply ill-na. tured applications, I may probably in my next make use of real names instead of fictitious ones.'

P.

And soundest casuists doubt, like you and

me?
You hold the word, from Jove to Momus given,
That man was made the standing jest of Heaven :
And gold but sent to keep the fools in play,
For some to heap and some to throw away.

But I, who think more highly of our kind
(And, surely, Heaven and I are of a mind),
Opine, that nature, as in duty bound,
Deep hid the shining mischief under ground:
But when, by man's audacious labour won,
Flam'd forth this rival to its sire, the sun,
Then careful Heaven supply'd two sorts of men,
To squander these, and those to hide again.

Like doctors thus, when much dispute has past,
We find our tenets just the same at last:
Both fairly owning riches, in effect,
No

grace of Heaven, or token of th' elect;

Given to the fool, the mad, the vain, the evil,
To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the devil.

B. What nature wants, commodious gold bestows; Tis thus we eat the bread another sows.

P. But how unequal it bestows, observe;
Tis thus we riot, while, who sow it, starve:
What nature wants (a phrase I must distrust)
Extends to luxury, extends to lust:
Useful I grant, it serves what life requires,
But, dreadful too, the dark assassin hires.

B. Trade it may help, society extend :
P. But lures the pirate, and corrupts the friend.
B. It raises armies in a nation's aid:

P. But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd.
In vain may heroes fight and patriots rave,
If secret gold sap on from knave to knave.
Once, we confess, beneath the patriot's cloak,
From the crack'd bag the dropping guinea spoke,
And jingling down the back-stairs, told the crew,
• Old Cato is as great a rogue as you.'
Blest paper-credit ! last and blest supply!
That lends corruption lighter wings to fly!
Gold, imp'd by thee, can compass hardest things,
Can pocket states, can fetch or carry kings;
A single leaf shall waft an army o'er,
Or ship off senates to some distant shore;
A leaf, like Sibyl's, scatter to and fro
Our fates and fortunes, as the wind shall blow

; Pregnant with thousands flits the scrap unseen, And silent sells a king or buys a queen.

O! that such bulky bribes as all might see, Still, as of old, incumber'd villany! Could France or Rome divert our brave designs, With all their brandies or with all their wines ? What could they more than knights and 'squires

confound, Or water all the quorum ten miles round? A statesman's slumbers how this speech would spoil! "Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oil;

Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door;
A hundred oxen at your levee roar.'

Poor avarice one torment more would find ;
Nor could profusion squander all in kind.
Astride his cheese sir Morgan might we meet,
And Worldly crying coals from street to street,
Whom, with a wig so wild and mien so maz'd,
Pity mistakes for some poor tradesman craz'd.
Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and hogs,
Could he himself have sent it to the dogs?
His grace will game: to White's a bull be led,
With spurning heels and with a butting head :
To White's be carried, as to ancient games,
Fair coursers, vases, and alluring dames.
Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep,
Bcar home six whores, and make his lady weep!
Or soft Adonis, so perfum'd and fine,
Drive to St. James's a whole herd of swine?
O filthy check on all industrious skill,
To spoil the nation's last great trade, quadrille!
Since then, my lord, on such a world we fall,
What say you? B. Say? Why, take it, gold and alb.

P. What riches give us, let us then inquire : Meat, fire, and clothes. B. What more? P. Meat,

clothes, and fire. Is this too little ? would you more than live? Alas ! 'tis more than Turner finds they give, Alas ! 'tis more than (all his visions past) Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at last! What can they give? To dying Hopkins heirs ? To Chartres vigour? Japhet nose and ears? Can they in gems bid pallid Hippia glow? In Fulvia's buckle ease the throbs below? Or heal, old Narses, thy obscener ail, With all th' embroidery plaster'd at thy tail ? They might (were Harpax not too wise to spend) Give Harpax self the blessing of a friend; Or find some doctor that would save the life Of wretched Shylock, spite of Shylock's wife.

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