Then view him, felf-proclaim'd in a gazette
Chief monfter that has plagu'd the nations yet:
The globe and sceptre in such hands misplac'd,
Thofe enfigns of dominion, how disgrac'd!
The glass that bids man mark the fleeting hour,
And death's own scythe, would better speak his
pow'r;
Then grace the bony phantom in their stead
With the king's fhoulder-knot and gay cockade
Clothe the twin brethren in each other's drefs,
The fame their occupation and fuccefs.
A. 'Tis your belief the world was made for man; Kings do but reason on the self-same plan : Maintaining your's, you cannot their's condemn, Who think, or seem to think, man made for them. B. Seldom, alas! the pow'r of logic reigns With much fufficiency in royal brains; Such reas'ning falls like an inverted cone, Wanting its proper base to ftand upon. Man made for kings! thofe optics are but dim That tell you fo-fay, rather, they for him. That were indeed a king-ennobling thought, Could they, or would they, reafon as they ought.
The diadem, with mighty projects lin'd,
To catch renown by ruining mankind,
Is worth, with all its gold and glitt'ring ftore,
Juft what the toy will fell for, and no more.
Oh! bright occafions of difpenfing good,
How feldom us'd, how little understood!
To pour in virtue's lap her juft reward,
Keep vice reftrain'd behind a double guard;
To quell the faction that affronts the throne
By filent magnanimity alone;
To nurfe with tender care the thriving arts,
Watch ev'ry beam philosophy imparts ;
To give religion her unbridled scope,
Nor judge by ftatute a believer's hope;
With close fidelity and love unfeign'd,
To keep the matrimonial bond unstain'd;
Covetous only of a virtuous praise;
His life a leffon to the land he sways;
To touch the fword with confcientious awe,
Nor draw it but when duty bids him draw;
To fheath it in the peace-reftoring close
With joy beyond what victory bestows;
Bleft country, where these kingly glories fhine;
Bleft England, if this happiness be thine!
A. Guard what you fay; the patriotic tribe
Will fneer and charge you with a bribe.-B. A bribe?
The worth of his three kingdoms I defy,
To lure me to the baseness of a lie.
And, of all lies, (be that one poet's boast)
The lie that flatters I abhor the most.
Those arts be their's who hate his gentle reign,
But he that loves him has no need to feign.
A. Your fmooth eulogium, to one crown ad
Seems to imply a cenfure on the reft.
B. Quevedo, as he tells his fober tale, Afk'd, when in hell, to fee the royal jail; Approv'd their method in all other things; But where, good fir, do you confine your kings? There-faid his guide-the group is full in view. Indeed-replied the Don-there are but few. His black interpreter the charge difdain'dFew, fellow?-there are all that ever reign'd. Wit, undiftinguishing, is apt to ftrike The guilty and not guilty, both alike. I grant the farcafm is too fevere, And we can readily refute it here;
While Alfred's name, the father of his age, th' hiftoric page.
A. Kings then at laft have but the lot of all. By their own conduct they must stand or fall.
B. True. While they live, the courtly laureat pays
His quit-rent ode, his pepper-corn of praise;
And many a dunce, whofe fingers itch to write,
Adds, as he can, his tributary mite:
A fubject's faults a fubject may proclaim,
A monarch's errors are forbidden game!
Thus, free from cenfure, over-aw'd by fear,
And prais'd for virtues that they scorn to wear,
The fleeting forms of majesty engage
Refpect, while stalking o'er life's narrow ftage;
Then leave their crimes for history to scan,
And atk with busy scorn, Was this the man?
I pity kings whom worship waits upon,
Obfequious, from the cradle to the throne;
Before whofe infant eyes the flatt'rer bows,
And binds a wreath about their baby brows;
Whom education ftiffens into state,
And death awakens from that dream too late.
Oh! if fervility with fupple knees,
Whofe trade it is to fmile, to crouch, to please;
If smooth diffimulation, skill'd to grace
A devil's purpose with an angel's face;
If fmiling peereffes and fimp'ring peers,
Encompaffing his throne a few short years;
If the gilt carriage and the pamper'd steed,
That wants no driving, and disdains the lead;
If guards, mechanically form'd in ranks,
Playing, at beat of drum, their martial pranks,
Should'ring and standing as if stuck to stone,
While condefcending majefty looks on;
If monarchy confift in fuch bafe things,
Sighing, I fay again, I pity kings!
To be fufpected, thwarted, and withstood,
Ev'n when he labours for his country's good;
To fee a band, called patriot, for no caufe,
But that they catch at popular applaufe,
Careless of all th' anxiety he feels,
Hook disappointment on the public wheels;
With all their flippant fluency of tongue,
Moft confident, when palpably moft wrong;
If this be kingly, then farewell for me
All kingship; and may I be poor and free!
To be the Table Talk of clubs up ftairs,
To which th' unwash'd artificer repairs,
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