Then he : Great tamer of all human art !
First in my care, and ever at my heart;
Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend,
With whom my Muse began, with whom shall end, 166
E'er since Sir Fopling's periwig was praise,
To the last honours of the Butt and Bays :
O thon! of business the directing soul
To this our head, like bias to the bowl,
Which, as more ponderous, made its aim more true,
Obliquely waddling to the mark in view :
Oh! ever gracious to perplex mankind,
Still spread a healing mist before the mind;
And, lest we err by wit's wild dancing light,
Secure us kindly in our native night.
Or, if to wit a coxcomb make pretence,
Guard the sure barrier between that and sense;
Or quite unravel all the reasoning thread,
And hang some curious cobweb in its stead !
As, forc'd from wind-guns, lead itself can fly,
And ponderous slugs cut swiftly through the sky;
As clocks to weight their nimble motion owe,

The wheels above urg'd by the load below;
Me emptiness and dulness could inspire,
And were my elasticity and fire.
Some demon stole my pen (forgive the offence)
And once betray'd me into common sense :
Else all my prose and verse were much the same;
This prose on stilts, that poetry fall’n lame.
Did on the stage my fops appear contin'd ?
My life gave ampler lessons to mankind.

IMITATIONS. 166 With whom my Muse began, with whom shall end.] * A te principium, tibi desinet.'

VIRG. Ecl. viii. 'Εκ Διος αρχωμεσθα, και εις Δια ληγείε Μεσαι. THEOC. ‘Prima dicte mibi, summa dicenda Camæna.' HOR.

Did the dead letter unsuccessful prove?
The brisk example never fail'd to move.
Yet sure, had Heaven decreed to save the state, '95
Heaven had decreed these works a longer date.
Could Troy be sav'd by any single hand, 197
This gray-goose weapon must have made her stand.
What can I now? my Fletcher cast aside, [198
Take up the Bible, once my better guide ?
Or tread the path by venturous heroes trod,
This box my thunder, this right hand my god ? 202
Or chaird at White's amidst the doctors sit,
Teach oaths to gamesters, and to pobles wit?
Or bid'st thou rather party to embrace?
(A friend to party thou, and all her race;

Tis the same rope at different ends they twist;
To Dulness Ridpath is as dear as Mist) 208
Shall I, like Curtius, desperate in my zeal,
O'er head and ears plunge for the commonweal?
Or rob Rome's ancient geese of all their glories,
And cackling save the monarchy of Tories ?
Hold to the minister I more incline;
To serve his cause, O Queen! is serving thine.

REMARKS. 208 George Ridpath, author of a Whig paper, called the Flying Post: Nath, Mist. of a famous Tory journal. W.

IMITATIONS. 195 had Heav'n decreed, &c.]

Me si cælicolæ voluissent ducere vitam,
Has mihi servassent sedes.'-

VIRG. Æn. Il. 197, 198 Could Troy be sav'd-Thisgray-goose weapon.)

- Si Pergama dextra
Defendi possent, etiam hac defensa fuissent.'

VIRG. ibid. 102 This box my thunder, this right hand my god?] Dextra mibi Deus, et telum quod missile libro.'

VIRGIL, of the Gods of Mezentius.

And see! thy very Gazetteers give o'er,
Ev'n Ralph repents, and Henley writes no more.
What then remains ? Ourself. Still, still remain 217
Cibberian forehead, and Cibberian brain.
This brazen brightness to the 'squire so dear;
This polish'd bardness that reflects the peer:
This arch absurd, that wit and fool delights,
This mess, toss'd up of Hockley-hole and White's;
Where dukesand butchersjoin to wreathe mycrown,
At once the bear and fiddle of the town.

60 born in sin, and forth in'folly brought !
Works damn'd, or to be damn'd, (your father's fault)
Go, purified by flames ascend the sky,
My better and more Christian progeny!
Unstain'd, untoueh’d, and yet in maiden sheets, 229
While all your smntty sisters walk the streets.
Ye shall not beg, like gratis-given Bland, 231
Sent with a pass and vagrant through the land ; 23%
Nor sail with Ward to ape-and-monkey climes, 233
Where vile Mundungus trucks for viler rhymes ;

REMARKS. 1917 An happy parody on the famous Moi in Corneille's Medea.

Not sulpbür-tipt, emblaze an ale-house fire!
Not wrap up oranges to pelt your sire!
O! pass more innocent, in infant state,
To the mild limbo of our father Tate: 238 .
Or peaceably forgot, at once be bless'd
In Shadwell's boso'm with eternal rest! 240
Soon to that mass of nonsense to return;
Where things destroy'dare swept to things unborn.

With that, a tear (pörtentous sign of grace!)
Stole from the master of the sevenfold face;
And thrice he lifted high the birth-day brand, 245
And thrice he drop'd it from his quivering land;
Then lights the structure with averted eyes,
The rolling smoke involves the sacrifice.
The opening clouds disclose each work by turns,
Now flames the Cid, and now Perolla burns; 250
Great Cæsar roars and hisses in the tires ;
King Jolin in silence modestly expires :

REMARKS. kept a public house in the city, (but in a genteel way) and with his wit, humour, and good liquor, (ale) afforded his guests a pleasurable entertainment, especially those of the High-church party.' JACOB, Lives of Poets, Vol: II. p. 225. Great numbers of his works were yearly sold into the Plan. tations.-Ward, in a hook called Apollo's Maggot, declared this account to be a great falsity, protesting that his publichouse was not in the city, but in Moorfields.

W. 298, 240 — Tate-Shadwell.] Two of his predecessors in the laurel.

IMITATIONS. 945 And thrice he lifted high the birth-day brand.] Ovid, of Althæ, on a like occasion, burning her offspring :

• Tum conata quater flammis imponere torrem,

Cepta quater tenuit.'
250 Now flames the Cid, &c.]

----Jam Deiphobi dedit ampla ruinam,
· Valcano superante domos; jam proximus ardet

Ucalegon.'

No merit now the dear Nonjuror claims,
Moliere's old stubble in a moment flames.
Tears gush'd again, as from pale Priam's eyes,
When the last blaze sent Ilion to the skies.

Rous’d by the light, old Dulness heav'd the liead, Then snatch'd a sheet of Thule from her bed ; 258 Sudden she flies, and whelms it o'er the pyre: Down sink the flames, and with a biss expire.

Her ample presence fills up all the place; A veil of fogs dilates her awfiul face: [may’rs 203 Great in her charms! as when on sbrieves and She looks, and breathes herself into their airs. She bids him wait her to her sacred dome : Well pleas'd he enter'd, and confess'd his home. So spirits, ending their terrestrial race, Ascend, and recognise their native place. This the great mother dearer held than all 269 The clubs of quidnuncs, or her own Guildhall : Here stood her opium, here she pursd her owls, And here she plan’d the imperial seat of fools.

REMARKS. 258 Thule.] An unfinished poem by Ambrose Philips.

IMITATIONS. 263 Great in her charms! as when on shrieres and may'rs

She looks, and breathes herself into their airs.) • Alma parens confessa deam; qualisqne videri Celicolis, et quanta solet.

VIRG. Æn. II. * Et lætos oculis afflavit honores.' Id. Æn. I. 269 This the great mother, &c.] • Urbs antiqua fuit Quam Juno fertur terris magis omnibus unam Post habita coluisse Samo : bic illius arma, Hic currus fuit: hic regnum Dea gentibus esse (Si qua fata sinant) jam tum tenditque fovetqne.'

VIRG. Æn. I.