But here more slow, where all are slaves to

gold, Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are

sold;

“Studions to please, and ready to submit,
The supple Gaul was born a parasite :
Still to his interest true, where'er he goes,
Wit, bravery, worth, his lavish tongue be-

stows :
In every face a thousand graces shine,
From every tongue flows harmony divine.
These arts in vain our rugged natives try,
Strain out with faltering diffidence a lie,
And gain a kick for awkward flattery.

“Besides, with justice, this discerning age Admires their wondrous talents for the

stage : Well may they venture on the mimic's art, Who play from morn to night a borrow'd

part: Practised their master's notions to embrace, Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face ! With every wild absurdity comply, And view each object with another's eye ; To shake with ughter, ere the jest the

hear, To pour at will the counterfeited tear ; And, as their patron hints the cold or heat, To shake in dog-days, in December sweat. How, when competitors like these contend, Can surly Virtue hope to fix a friend ? Slaves that with serious impudence beguile, And lie without a blush, without a smile ; Exalt each trifle, every vice adore, Your taste in snuff, your judgment in a

whore; Can Balbo’s eloquence applaud, and swear He gropes his breeches with a monarch's air ! “ For arts like these preferr'd, admired,

caress'd, They first invade your table, then your

breast; Explore your secrets with insidious art, Watch the weak hour, and ransack all the

Where, won by bribes, by flatteries implored, The groom retails the favours of his lord. “But hark! the affrighted crowd's tumul.

tuous cries Roll through the street, and thunder to the

skies : Raised from some pleasing dream of wealth

and power, Some pompous palace, or some blissful bower, Aghast you start, and scarce with aching

sight Sustain the approaching fire's tremendous

light; Swift from pursuing horrors take your way, And leave your little all to flames a prey ; Then through the world a wretched vagrant

roam, For where can starving Merit find a home ? In vain your mournful narrative disclose, While all neglect, and most insult your woes. “Should Heaven's just bolts Orgilio's wealth

confound, And spread his flaming palace on the ground, Swift o'er the land the dismal rumour flies, And public mournings pacify the skies ; The laureate tribe in servile verse relate How Virtue wars with persecuting Fate ; With well-feign'd gratitude the pension'a band Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land. See! while he builds, the gaudy vassals come, And crowd with sudden wealth the rising

dome; The price of boroughs and of souls restore, And raise his treasures higher than before : Now bless'd with all the baubles of the great, The polish'd marble, and the shining plate, Orgilio sees the golden pile aspire, And hopes from angry Heaven another fire. “Couldst thou resign the park and play

content, For the fair banks of Severn or of Trent; There mightst thou find some elegant retreat, Some hireling senator's deserted seat, And stretch thy prospects o'er the smiling

land, For less than rent the dungeons of the

Strand; There prune thy walks, support thy drooping

flowers, Direct thy rivulets, and twine thy bowers : And while thy beds a cheap repast afford, Despise the dainties of a venal lord : There every bush with nature's music rings, There every breeze bears health upon its

wings; On all thy hours security shall smile, And bless thine evening walk and morning

toil. “Prepare for death, if here at night you

roam; And sign your will, before you sup from

home.

heart;

Then soon your ill-placed confidence repay, Commence your lords, and govern or betray.

By numbers here, from shame or censure

free, All crimes are safe but hated poverty: This, only this, the rigid law pursues, This, only this, provokes the snarling muse. The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak Wakes from his dream, and labours for a

joke; With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze, And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways. Of all the griefs that harass the distress'd, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest; Fate never wounds more deep the generous

heart Than when a blockhead's insult points the dart.

Has Heaven reserved, in pity to the poor, No pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore ? No secret island in the boundless main ? No peaceful desert yet unclaim'd by Spain ? Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore, And bear Oppression's insolence no more. This mournful truth is everywhere confess'd: Slow rises worth, by poverty depress'd :

Some fiery fop, with new commission vain, Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man; Some frolic drunkard, reeling from a feast, Provokes a broil, and stabs you for a jest.

* Yet e'en these heroes, mischievously gay, Lords of the street, and terrors of the way; Flush'd as they are with folly, youth, and

wine, Their prudent insults to the poor confine ; Afar they mark the flambeau's bright ap

proach, And shun the shining train and golden coach. “In vain, these dangers pass'd, your doors

you close, And hope the balmy blessings of repose : Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair, The midnight murderer bursts the faithless

bar;

Invades the sacred hour of silent rest, And plants, unseen, a dagger in your breast. “Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn

die, With hemp the gallows and the fleet supply. Propose your schemes, ye senatorian band, Whose ways and means support the sinking

land;

Lest ropes be wanting in the tempting spring, To rig another convoy for the king.

“A single jail, in Alfred's golden reign, Could half the nation's criminals contain ; Fair Justice then, without constraint adored, Held high the steady scale, but sheathed the

sword ; No spies were paid, no special juries known ; Bless'd age! but ah! how different from our

own! “Much could I add,-but see the boat at

hand, The tide retiring, calls me from the land : Farewell !—When youth, and health, and for

tune spent, Thou fliest for refuge to the wilds of Kent; And, tired like me with follies and with crimes, In angry numbers warn’st succeeding times ; Then shall thy friend, nor thou refuse his

aid Still foe to vice, forsake his Cambrian shade ; In virtue's cause once more exert his rage, Thy satire point, and animate thy page."

Samuel Johnson.--Born 1709, Died 1784.

Where wav'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous

pride, To chase the dreary paths, without a guide, As treach'rous phantoms in the mist delude, Shuns fancied ills, or chases airy good ; How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice, Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant

voice; How nations sink by darling schemes op

press'd, When vengeance listens to the fool's request. Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart, Each gift of nature and each grace of art : With fatal heat impetuous courage glows, With fatal sweetness elocution flows, Impeachment stops the speaker's powerful

breath, And restless fire precipitates on death. But, scarce observed, the knowing and the

bold Fall in the general massacre of gold; Wide wasting pest! that rages unconfined, And crowds with crimes the records of man

kind; For gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws, For gold the hireling jndge distorts the laws; Wealth heap'd on wealth, nor truth nor safety

buys, The dangers gather as the treasures rise. Let history tell where rival kings com.

mand, And dubious title shakes the madded land, When statutes glean the refuse of the sword, How much more safe the vassal than the

lord ; Low skulks the hind beneath the rage of

power, And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tower, Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers

sound, Though confiscation's vultures hover round.

The needy traveller, serene and gay, Walks the wild heath and sings his toil

away. Does envy seize thee? crush th' upbraiding

joy, Increase his riches, and his peace destroy. Now fears in dire vicissitude invade, The rustling brake alarms, and quiv’ring

shade, Nor light nor darkness bring his pain relief, One shows the plunder, and one hides the

thief. Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails, And gain and grandeur load the tainted

gales; Few know the toiling statesman's fear or

care, The insidious rival and the gaping heir.

Once more, Democritus, arise on earth, With cheerful wisdom and instructive mirth, See motley life in modern trappings dress'd, And feed with varied fools the eternal jest: Thou who couldst laugh, where want en.

chain'd caprice, Toil crush'd conceit, and man was of a piece ;

Should Beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart, Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart; Should no disease thy torpid veins invade, Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade ; Yet hope not life from grief or danger free, Nor think the doom of man reversed for

thee : Deign on the passing world to turn thine

eyes, And pause awhile from letters to be wise ; There mark what ills the scholar's life assail, Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. 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, despised or

awed, Rebellion's vengeful talons seize on Laud. From meaner minds though smaller fines

content, The plunder'd palace, or sequester'd rent, Mark'd out by dangerous parts, he meets the

shock, And fatal Learning 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 foc, The senate's thanks, the Gazette's pompous

tale, With force resistless o'er the brave prevail. Such bribes the rapid Greck o'er Asia whirl'd, For such the steady Roman shook the world ; For such in distant lands the Britons shine, And stain with blood tho Danube or the

Rhine; This power las praise, that virtuo scarce can

Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms

in vain; “ Think nothing gain'd,” he cries, “till

nought remain, On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, And all be mine beneath the polar sky.” The march begins in military state, And nations on his eye suspended wait; Stern Famine guards the solitary coast, And Winter barricades the realms of Frost; He comes, nor want nor cold his course

delay ;Hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa's day: The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, And shows his miseries in distant lands; Condemn’d a needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end ? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound ? Or hostile millions press him to the ground ? His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew

pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale. All times their scenes of pompous woes

afford, From Persia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord. In gay hostility and barb'rous pride, With half mankind embattled at his side, 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 soothe his pride no

more ; Fresh praise is tried till madness fires his

mind, The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind; New powers are claim'd, new powers 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' encumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded

coast Through purple billows and a floating host.

The bo:d Bavarian, in a luckless hour, Tries the dread summits of Cæsarean power, With unexpected legions bursts away, And sees defenceless realms receive his sway : Short sway ! fair Austria spreads her mournful

charms, The queen, the beauty, sets the world in

Warın

Till fame supplies the universal charm.
Yet reason frowns on war's unequal game,
Where wasted nations raise a single name;
And mortgaged 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. On what foundation stands the warrior's

pride, How jnst his hopes, let Swedish Charles

decide; A frame of adamant, a sonl of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labours tire ; O’er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain ; No joys to him pacific sceptres yield, . War sounds the trump, he rushes to the

field; Behold surrounding kings their powers com

bine, And one capitulate, and one resign;

arms;

From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze Sprealls 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 fatt'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 its 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 bounteous seasons

pour,
The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flower ;
With listless eyes the dotard views the store,
He views, and wonders that they please no

more; Now pall the tasteless meats, and joyless

wines, And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns. Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing

strain, Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain : No sounds, alas! would touch the impervious

New sorrow rises as the day returns,
A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns.
Now kindred Merit fills the sable bier,
Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear ;
Year chases year, decay pursues decay,
Still drops some joy from with'ring life

away;
New forms arise, and different views engage,
Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage,
Till pitying Nature signs the last release,
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace.
But few there are whom hours like these

await, Who set unclouded in the gulfs of Fate. From Lydia's monarch should the search

descend, By Solon caution'd to regard his end, In life's last scene what prodigies surprise, Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise ! From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of

dotage flow, And Swift expires a driv'ler and a show.

The teeming mother, anxious for her race, Begs for each birth the fortune of a face ; Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty

spring; And Sedley cursed the form that pleased a

king. Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes, Whom pleasure keeps too busy to be wise ; Whom joys with soft varieties invite, By day the frolic, and the dance by night; Who frown with vanity, who smile with art, And ask the latest fashion of the heart; What care, what rules, your heedless charms

ear,

shall save,

Each nymph your rival, and each youth your

slave? Against your fame with fondness hate com.

bines, The rival batters, and the lover mines. With distant voice neglected Virtue calls, Less heard and less, the faint remonstrance

falls;

Though dancing mountains witness’d Orpheus

near ; Nor lute nor lyre his feeble powers attend, Nor sweeter music of a virtuous friend; But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue, Perversely grave, or positively wrong. The still returning tale, and ling'ring jest, Perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd

guest, While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring

sneer, And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear : The watchful guests still hint the last

offence; The daughter's petulance, the son’s expense, Improve his heady rage with treach'rous

skill, And mould his passions till they make his

will. Unnumber'd maladies his joints invade, Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade; But unextinguish'd av’rice still remains, And dreaded losses aggravate his pains ; He turns, with anxious heart and crippled

hands, His bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands; Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes, Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies.

But grant, the virtues of a températe prime Bless with an age exempt from scorn

crime ; An age that melts with unperceived decay, And glides in modest innocence away ; Whose peaceful day benevolence endears, Whose night congratulating conscience cheers; The general fav'rite as the general friend : Such age there is, and who shall wish its

end? Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune

flings, To press the weary minutes' flagging wings;

or

Tired with contempt, she quits the slipp’ry

reign, And Pride and Prudence take her seat in

vain. In crowd at once, where none the pass

defend, The harmless freedom, and the private

friend. The guardians yield, by force superior plied : To Int'rest, Prudence; and to Flatt'ry,

Pride. Here beauty falls, betray'd, despised, dis

tress'd, And hissing Infamy proclaims the rest. Where then shall Hope and Fear their

objects find ? Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant

mind ?
Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate,
Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?
Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise,
No cries invoke the mercies of the skies?