Cunning evades, securely wrapt in wiles;
And Force ftrong-finew'd rends th' unequal toils:
The stream of Vice impetuous drives along,
Too deep for Policy, for Pow'r too ftrong.
Ev'n fair Religion, Native of the skies,

115

Scorn'd by the Crowd, feeks refuge with the Wife; The Crowd with laughter fpurns her awful train, And Mercy courts, and Juftice frowns in vain. 120 But SATIRE's fhaft can pierce the harden'd breast: She plays a ruling Paffion on the rest:

Undaunted forms the batt'ry of his pride,

And awes the Brave that Earth and Heav'n defy'd.
When fell Corruption, by her vaffals crown'd, 125
Derides fall'n Juftice proftrate on the ground;
Swift to redrefs an injur'd People's groan,
Bold SATIRE shakes the Tyrant on her throne
Pow'rful as Death, defies the fordid train,
And Slaves and Sycophants furround in vain. 130

;

But with the friends of Vice, the foes of SATIRE, All truth is Spleen; all juft reproof, Ill-nature.

Well may they dread the Mufe's fatal fkill; Well may they tremble when the draws her quill: Her magic quill, that, like ITHURIEL's fpear, 135 Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen'd ear: Bids Vice and Folly take their nat'ral shapes, Turns Ducheffes to ftrumpets, Beaux to apes; Drags the vile Whisperer from his dark abode, 'Till all the Dæmon starts up from the toad.

140

145

O fordid maxim, form'd to fkreen the vile, That true good-nature ftill must wear a smile! In frowns array'd her beauties ftronger rife, When love of Virtue wakes her fcorn of Vice: Where Juftice calls, 'tis Cruelty to fave; And 'tis the Law's good-nature hangs the Knave. Who combats Virtue's foe is Virtue's friend; Then judge of SATIRE's merit by her end: To Guilt alone her vengeance ftands confin'd, The object of her love is all Mankind. Scarce more the friend of Man, the wife must own, Ev'n ALLEN's bounteous hand, than SATIRE's frown: This to chaftife, as That to blefs, was giv'n; Alike the faithful Minifters of Heav'n.

150

155

Oft in unfeeling hearts the shaft is spent : Tho' ftrong th' example, weak the punishment. They leaft are paid, who merit fatire moft; Folly the Laureat's, Vice was Chartres' boast : Then where's the wrong, to gibbet high the name Of Fools and Knaves already dead to shame? 160 Oft SATIRE acts the faithful Surgeon's part; Gen'rous and kind tho' painful is her art: With caution bold, fhe only ftrikes to heal; Tho' folly raves to break the friendly steel. Then fure no fault impartial SATIRE knows, Kind ev'n in Vengeance, kind to Virtue's foes, Whofe is the crime, the fcandal too be theirs : The Knave and Fool are their own Libellers.

165

PART II.

D

ARE nobly then: But confcious of your truft,
As ever warm and bold be ever just:

Nor court applause in these degen'rate days:
The Villain's cenfure is extorted praife.

170

180

But chief, be fteady in a noble end, And fhew Mankind that Truth has yet a friend. 'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write, 175 As Foplings grin to fhow their teeth are white : To brand a doubtful folly with a smile, Or madly blaze unknown defects, is vile : "Tis doubly vile, when, but to prove your art, You fix an arrow in a blameless heart. O loft to honour's voice, O doom'd to shame, Thou Fiend accurs'd, thou Murderer of Fame! Fell Ravisher, from Innocence to tear That name, than liberty, than life more dear! Where shall thy baseness meet its just return, Or what repay thy guilt, but endless scorn? And know, immortal Truth shall mock thy toil: Immortal Truth shall bid the shaft recoil; With rage retorted, wing the deadly dart; And empty all its poyson in thy heart,

185

190

With caution next, the dang'rous pow'r apply; An eagle's talon afks an eagle's eye: Let SATIRE then her proper object know, And ere fhe strike, be fure fhe strike a foe, Nor fondly deem the real fool confeft, Because blind Ridicule conceives a jest : Before whose altar Virtue oft hath bled, And oft a deftin'd Victim fhall be lead:

195

Lo, Shaftfb'ry rears her high on Reafon's throne,
And loads the Slave with honours not her own: 200
Big-fwoln with folly, as her fmiles provoke,
Prophaneness spawns, pert Dunces nurse the joke!
Come, let us join a while this titt'ring crew,
And own the Ideot Guide for once is true;
Deride our weak forefather's musty rule,
Who therefore fmil'd, because they saw a Fool;
Sublimer logic now adorns our isle,
We therefore fee a Fool, because we fmile.
Truth in her gloomy Cave why fondly feek?

205

Lo, gay fhe fits in Laughter's dimpled cheek: 210
Contemns each furly Academic foe,

And courts the fpruce Freethinker and the Beau.
Dadalian arguments but few can trace,

But all can read the language of grimace.

Hence mighty Ridicule's all-conqu❜ring hand 215 Shall work Herculean wonders thro' the Land:

Bound in the magic of her cobweb chain,

You, mighty WARBURTON, fhall rage in vain,

In vain the tracklefs maze of Truth you fcan,
And lend th' informing Clue to erring Man:
No more fhall Reason boaft her pow'r divine,
Her Bafe eternal fhook by Folly's mine!
Truth's facred Fort th' exploded laugh fhall win;
And Coxcombs vanquish BERKLEY by a grin.

220

But you, more fage, reject th' inverted rule, 225
That Truth is e'er explor'd by Ridicule:
On truth, on falfhood let her colours fall,
She throws a dazzling glare alike on all;
As the gay Prifm but mocks the flatter'd eye,
And gives to ev'ry object ev'ry dye.

Beware the mad Advent'rer: bold and blind
She hoifts her fail, and drives with ev'ry wind;
Deaf as the Storm to finking Virtue's groan,
Nor heeds a Friend's deftruction, or her own.
Let clear-cy'd Reafon at the helm prefide,
Bear to the wind, or ftem the furious tide;
Then Mirth may urge, when Reafon can explore,
This point the way, that waft us glad to shore.

230

235

2,0

Tho' diftant Times may rife in SATIRE'S page,
Yet chief 'tis Her's to draw the prefent Age:
With Wisdom's luftre, Folly's fhade contrast,
And judge the reigning Manners by the paft:
Bid Britain's Heroes (awful Shades!) arife,
And ancient Honour beam on modern Vice: