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Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to see
O sacred weapon! left for truth's defence,
When black ambition stains a public canse,
Not so when diadem'd with rays divine, (shrine,
wear, And may descend to Mordington from Stair; (Such as on Hoagh's unsullied mitre shine, Or beam, good Digby, from a heart like thine)
Let envy howl, while Heaven's whole chorus sings,
Yes, the last pen for freedom let me draw, When truth stands trembling on the edge of law. Here, last of Britons ! let your names be read : Are none, none living ? let me praise the dead; And for that cause which made your fathers shine, Fall by the votes of their degenerate line.
F. Alas! alas! pray end what you began, And write next winter more Essays on Man.
ON RECEIVING FROM
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
A STANDISH AND TWO PENS'.
Descend in all her sober charms;
• Secure the radiant weapons wield;
This golden lance shall guard desert, And if a vice dares keep the field,
This steel shall stab it to the heart.' I These lines were occasioned by the poet's being threatened with a prosecation in the House of Lords, for writing tbe two foregoing Dialogues.
Awed, on my bended knees I fell,
Receiv'd the weapons of the sky, And dip'd them in the sable well,
The fount of fame or infamy.
“What well? what weapon? (Flavia cries)
A standish, steel, and golden pen!
I gave it you to write again.
"But, friend! take heed whom you attack;
You'll bring a house (I mean of peers) Red, blue, and green, nay, white and black,
L** and all about your ears.
• You'd write as smooth again on glass,
And run on ivory so glib, As not to stick at fool or ass,
Nor stop at flattery or fib.
• Athenian queen! and sober charms !
I tell ye, fool! there's nothing in't : 'Tis Venus, Venus gives these arms;
In Dryden's Virgil see the print.
• Come, if you'll be a quiet soul,
That dares tell neither truth nor lies, I'll list you in the harmless roll
Of those that sing of these poor eyes.'
His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani
ON CHARLES EARL OF DORSET,
IN THE CHURCH OF WITHYAM, SUSSEX. DORSET, the grace of courts, the Muses' pride, Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died ! The scourge of pride, though sanctified or great, Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state: Yet soft his nature, though severe his lay, His anger moral, and his wisdom gay. Bless'd satirist! who tonch'd the mean so true, As show'd vice had bis hate and pity too. Bless'd courtier! who could king and country please, Yet sacred keep his friendships and his ease. Blessid peer! bis great forefathers' every grace Reflecting, and reflected in his race; Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets, shine, And patriots still, or poets, deck the line.
ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBAL, ONE OF THE PRINCIPAL SECRETARIES OF STATE TO.
KING WILLIAM III. Who, having resigned his Place, died in his Retirement
at Eusthamsted, in Berkshire, 1716. A PLEASING form, a firm yet cautious mind; Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resign’d: Honour unchang'd, a principle profess'd, Fix'd to one side, but moderate to the rest :
An honest conrtier, yet a patriot too,
ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT, ONLY SON OF THE LORD CHANCELLOR HARCOURT,
At the Church of Stanton-Harcourt, Orfordshire, 1720. To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near; Here lies the friend most lov'd, the sop most dear; Who ne'er knew joy but friendship migbt divide, Or gave his father grief but when he died. How vain is reason, eloquence how weak ! If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak. Oh! let thy once-lov'd friend inscribe thy stone, And with a father's sorrows mix his own!
ON JAMES CRAGGS, ESQ.
ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBUS,
VIXIT TITULIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR
ANNOS, HEU DAUCOS, XXXV.
OB. FEB. XVI. M.DCC.XX. STATESMAN, yet friend to truth! of soal sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear!