These arts in vain our rugged natives try,
Strain out with fault'ring diffidence a lie,
And gain a kick for awkward flattery.

Befides, with juftice this difcerning age
Admires their wond'rous talents for the stage:
Well may they venture on the mimick's art,
Who play from morn to night a borrow'd part:
Practis'd their master's notions to embrace,
Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face ;
With ev'ry wild absurdity comply,

And view each object with another's eye;
To shake with laughter ere the jeft they hear,
To pour at will the counterfeited tear,

hints the cold or heat,

And as their patron
To shake in dog-days, in December sweat.
How, when competitors like these contend,
Can furly virtue hope to fix a friend?
Slaves that with ferious impudence beguile,
And lie without a blush, without a fimile;
Exalt each trifle, ev'ry vice adore,
Your tafte in fnuff, 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 prefer'd, admir'd, carefs'd,
They first invade your table, then your breast;
Explore your fecrets with infidious art,

Watch the weak hour, and ranfack all the heart;

Then

-Materiem præbet caufafque jocorum Omnibus hic idem fi fœda & fciffa lacerna, &c.

Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se,
Quam quod ridiculos homines facit,

-Agmine facto,

Debuerant olim tenues migraffe Quirites.

Haud facile emergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat Res angufta domi. Sed Romæ durior illis

Conatus

Cum pretio➖➖➖

-OMNIA Romæ

Cogimur, & cultis augere peculia fervis.

L

Then foon your ill-plac'd confidence repay,
Commence your lords, and govern or betray.
L By numbers here from shame or cenfure free,
All crimes are safe, but hated poverty.
This, only this, the rigid law pursues,
This, only this, provokes the fnarling muse.
The fober trader at a tatter'd cloak,

Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke;
With brifker air the filken courtiers gaze,
And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways.
Of all the griefs that harrass the distress'd;
Sure the most bitter is a fcornful jeft;

Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart,
Than when a blockhead's infult points the dart.
Has heaven referv'd, in pity to the poor,
No pathlefs wafte, or undiscover'd shore ?
No fecret island in the boundless main?
No peaceful defart yet unclaim'd by SPAIN?
Quick let us rife, the happy feats explore,
And bear oppreffion's infolence no more.
This mournful truth is ev'ry where confefs'd,
SLOW RISES WORTH, BY POVERTY DEPRESS'D:
But here more flow, where all are slaves to gold,
Where looks are merchandise, and fmiles are fold;
Where won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd,
The groom retails the favours of his lord.

But hark! th' affrighted crowd's tumultuous cries
Roll through the streets, and thunder to the skies:

Rais'd

-Ultimus autem

Ærumnæ cumulus, quod nudum, & fruftra rogantem Nemo cibo, nemo hofpitio, tectoque juvabit.

Si magna Afturici cecidit domus, horrida mater,
Pullati proceres.

Jam accurrit, qui marmora donet,
Conferat impenfas: hic, &c.
Hic modum argenti.-

-Meliora, ac plura reponit

Perficus orborum lautiflimus.

Si potes avelli Circenfibus, optima Soræ,
Aut Fabrateriæ domus, aut Frufinone paratur,

Quanti

Rais'd from fome pleasing dream of wealth and pow'r, Some pompous palace, or fome blissful bow'r, Aghaft you start, and scarce with aching fight Suftain th' approaching fire's tremendous light; Swift from pursuing horrors take your way, And leave your little ALL to flames a prey : Then thro' 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 infult your woes. Should heaven's juft bolts Orgilio's wealth confound, And spread his flaming palace on the ground, Swft o'er the land the difmal rumour flies, And public mournings pacify the skies; The laureat tribe in fervile verse relate, How virtue wars with perfecuting fate; With well-feign'd gratitude the penfion'd band Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land. See while he builds, the gaudy vaffals come, And crowd with fudden wealth the rifing dome; The price of boroughs and of fouls restore ; And raise his treasures higher than before : Now blefs'd with all the baubles of the great, The polish'd marble, and the fhining plate, Orgilio fees the golden pile afpire, And hopes from angry heav'n another fire. Could'st thou refign the park and play content, For the fair banks of Severn or of Trent;

There