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But will not Britain hear the last appeal,
Sign her foes' doom, or guard her fav'rites' zeal?
Thro Freedom's sons no more remonstrance rings,
Degrading nobles and controuling kings;
Our supple tribes repress their patriot throats,
And ask no questions but the price of votes ;
With weekly libels and septennial ale,
Their wish is full to riot and to rail.

In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand,
Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand:
To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs consign,
Through him the rays of regal bounty shine,
Turn’d by his nod the stream of honour flows,
His smile alone security bestows:
Still to new heights his restless wishes tow'r,
Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r;
Till conquest unresisted ceas'd to please,
And rights subunitted left him none to seize.
At length his sov'reign frowns—the train of state
Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate,
Where-e'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye,
His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly;
Now drops at once the pride of awful state,
The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate,
The regal palace, the luxurious board,
The liv'ried army, and the menial lord.
With age, with cares, with maladies oppress'd,
He seeks the refuge of monastic rest,
Grief aids disease, remember'd folly stings,
And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings.

Speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine, Shall Wolsey's wealth, with Wolsey's end, be thine? Or liv'st thou now, with safer pride content, The wisest justice on the banks of Trent ? For, why did Wolsey, near the steeps of fate, On wcak foundations raise th' enormous weight

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Why but to sink beneath misfortune's blow,
With louder ruin to the gulphs below?

* What gave great Villiers to the assassin's knife,
And fix'd disease on Harley's closing life?
What murder’d Wentworth, and what exil'd Hyde,
By kings protected, and to kings ally'd ?
What but their wish indulg'd in courts to shine,
And pow'r too great to keep, or to resign:

+ When first the college rolls receive his name, The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame; Resistless burns the fever of renown, Caught from the strong contagion of the gown: O'er Bodleys dome his future labours spread, And I Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head. Are these thy views ? Proceed, illustrious youth, And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth! Yet, should thy soul indulge the gen'rous heat Till captive Science yields her last retreat; Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray, And pour on misty Doubt resistless day; Should no false kindness lure to loose delight, Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright; Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain, And Sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain; Should beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart, Nor clajin the triumph of a letter'd heart; Should no disease thy torpid veins invade, Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shades Yet hope nor life from grief or danger free, Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee; Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, And pause awhile from Letters, to be wise;

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• Ver. 108–113.

of Ver. 114-132. I There is a tradition, that the study of friar Bacon, built on an arch over the bridge, will fall when a man greater than acon shall pass under it. To prevent so shocking an accident

was pulled down many years since,

There mark what ills the scholar's life assail,
Toil

, envy, want, the patron, and the gaol.
See nations, slowly wise and meanly just,
To buried merit raise the tardy bust.
If dreams yet flatter, once again attend,
Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end*.

Nor deem, when Learning her last prize bestows,'
The glitt'ring eminence exempt from foes ;
See, when the vulgar ’scapes, despis'd or aw'd,
Rebellion's yengetul talons seize on Laud.
From meaner minds though smaller fines content,
The plunder'd palace, or sequester'd rent;
Mark'd out by dang’rous parts, he meets the shock,
And fatal Learồing leads him to the block :
Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep,
But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep.

# The festal blazes, the triumphal show, The ravish'd standard, and the captive foe, The senate's thanks, the Gazette's pompous tale, With force resistless o'er the brave prevail. Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirld, For such the steady Romans shook the world; For such in distant lands the Britons shine, And stain with blood the Danube or the Rhine; This pow'r has praise, ihat virtue scarce can warm Till Fame supplies the universal charm. Yet Reason frowns on War's unequal game, Where wasted nations raise a single name; And mortgag'd states their grandsires' wreaths regret, From age to age in everlasting debt; Wreaths which at last the dear-bought right convey To rust on medals, or on stones decay.

1 On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide;

* See Gent. Mag. vol. LXVIII. p. 951, 1027, + Ver. 133-146,

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Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain prey,
And starves exhausted regions in his way;
Attendant Flatt'ry counts his myriads o’er,
Till counted myriads sooth his pride no more;
Fresh praise is try'd till madness fires his mind,
The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind,
New pow’rs are claim'd, new pow’rs are still bestow'd,
Till rude resistance lops the spreading god;
The daring Greeks deride the martial show,
And heap their valleys with the gaudy foe;
Th’insulted sea with humbler thought he gains,
A single skiff to speed his flight remains;
Th’incumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded coast,
Through purple billows and a floating host,

The bold Bavarian, in a luckless hour,
Tries the dread summits of Cæsarean pow'r,
With unexpected legions bursts away,
And sees defenceless realms receive his sway;
Short sway ! fair Austrja spreads her mournful charins,
The

queen, the beauty, sets the world in arms;
From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze
Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise ;
The fierce Croatian, and the wild Hussar,
With all the sons of ravage crowd the war;
The baffled prince, in honour's flatt ring bloom
Of hasty greatness, finds the fatal doom ;
His foes derision, and his subjects blame,
And steals to death from anguish and from shame,

* Enlarge my life with multitude of days !
In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays :
Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know,
That life protracted is protracted woe.
Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy,
And shuts up all the passages of joy:
In vain their gifts the boynteous seasons pour,
The fruit autumnal, and the vernal How'r;

• Ver. 188-288.

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