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Oft in unfeeling hearts the shaft is spent :
Tho' strong th' example, weak the punishment.
They least are pain'd, who merit Satire moft;
Folly the Laureat's, Vice was Chartres' boast:
Then where's the wrong, to gibbet high the name
Of Fools and Knaves already dead to fhame?
Oft SATIRE acts the faithful Surgeon's part;

Gen'rous and kind, tho' painful is her art:
With caution bold, fhe only strikes to heal;
Tho' folly raves to break the friendly steel.
Then fure no fault impartial SATIRE knows,
Kind ev'n in Vengeance, kind to Virtue's foes.
Whose is the crime, the scandal too be theirs :
The Knave and Fool are their own Libellers.

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PART III.

Caufes of the Decay of Vet. 389. Revival of of its principal Reftorers, The Abuse of Satire in

The Hiftory of Satire. Roman Satirifts, Lucilius, Horace,
Perfius, Juvenal, Ver. 357, &c.
Literature, particularly of Satire,
Satire, Ver. 401. Erafmus one
Ver. 405. Donne, Ver. 411.
England, during the licentious Reign of Charles II. Ver.
415. Dryden, 429. The true Ends of Satire pursued by
Boileau in France, Ver. 439; and by Mr. Pope in
England, Ver. 445.

PART I.

ATE gave the word; the cruel arrow sped;

FA

And POPE lies number'd with the mighty Dead! Refign'd he fell; fuperior to the dart,

That quench'd its rage in YOURS and BRITAIN'S

Heart :

You mourn: but BRITAIN, lull'd in reft profound, (Unconscious BRITAIN!) flumbers o'er her wound. Exulting dullness ey'd the fetting Light,

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And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the Night:
Rous'd at the signal, Guilt collects her train,
And counts the Triumphs of her growing Reign: 10
With inextinguishable rage they burn;

And fnake-hung ENVY hiffes o'er his Urn:

Th' envenom'd Monsters fpit their deadly foam,
To blaft the Laurel that furrounds his Tomb.

But You, O WARBURTON! whose eye
Can fee the greatness of an honest mind 1;
Can fee each Virtue and each Grace unite,
And taste the Raptures of a pure Delight;
You visit oft his awful Page with Care,

refin❜d 15

And view that bright Affemblage treafur'd there; 20 You trace the Chain that links his deep defign,

And pour new Luftre on the glowing Line.

Yet

PART II.

DARE nobly then: But conscious of

your trust,
As ever warm and bold, be ever just :

Nor court applaufe in these degen'rate days:
The Villain's cenfure is extorted praise.

But chief, be fteady in a noble end,

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And fhew mankind that Truth has yet a friend. 'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write,

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As Foplings grin to fhew 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.

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O loft to honour's voice, O doom'd to fhame,
Thou Fiend accurft, thou Murderer of Fame!
Fell Ravifher, from Innocence to tear
That name, than liberty, than life more dear!
Where shall thy baseness meet its just return!
Or what repay thy guilt, but endless scorn?
And know, immortal Truth fhall mock thy toil:
Immortal Truth shall bid the shaft recoil;

With rage retorted, wing the deadly dart;

And empty all its poison in thy heart.

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With caution next, the dang'rous pow'r apply;

An eagle's talon asks an eagle's eye:

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Let

Let SATIRE then her proper object know,
And eré fhe ftrike, be fure fhe strike a foe.
Nor fondly deem the real fool confest,
Because blind Ridicule conceives a jest :
Before whose altar Virtue oft hath bled,
And oft a deftin'd Victim fhall be led:

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Lo, Shaftfb'ry rears her high on Reafon's throne,
And loads the Slave with honours not her own: 200
Big-fwoln with folly, as her fmiles provoke,
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 forefathers' mufty rule,
Who therefore fmil'd, because they faw a Fool;
Sublimer logic now adorns our isle,
We therefore fee a Fool, because we smile.
Truth in her gloomy Cave why fondly feek?
Lo, gay she fits in Laughter's dimple cheek:
Contemns each furly academic foe,
And courts the fpruce Freethinker and the Beau.
Dadalion arguments but few can trace,

But all can read the language of grimace.
Hence mighty Ridicule's all-conquʼring hand
Shall work Herculean wonders through the Land:
Bound in the magic of her cob-web chain,
You, mighty WARBURTON, fhall rage in vain,
In vain the tracklefs maze of Truth you scan,
And lend th' informing Clue to erring Man :
No more fhall Reafon boaft her pow'r divine,
Her Base eternal fhook by Folly's mine!

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Truth's

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