No More Learning

But ne'er can make a pillar of the charch.
His sword is all bis argument, not his book ;
Although no scholar, he can act the cook.
And will cat throats again, if he be paid ;
In the Irish shambles he first learned the trade.

Then, Painter, show thy skill, and in fit place
Let 's see the nuncio Arundel's sweet face ;
Let the beholders bj thy art espy
His sense and soul, as squinting as his eye.

Let Bellasis' autumnal face be seen,
Rich with the spoils of a poor Algerine ;
Who, trusting in him, was by him betrayed.
And so shall we, be his advice obeyed.
The hero once got honour by his sword ;
He got his wealth by breaking of his word ;
And now his daughter he hath got with child.
And pimps to have his family defiled.

Next, Painter, draw the rabble of the plot ;
Jermain, Fitz-Gerald, Loftus, Porter, Scott :
These are fit heads indeed to turn a state.
And change the order of a nation's fate ;
Ten thousand such as these shall ne'er control
The smallest atom of an English soul.

Old England on its sti-ong foundation stands,
Defying all their heads and all their hands ;



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OF MARVELL. 251

Its Steady basis never could be shook,
When wiser men her ruin undertook ;
And can her guardian angel let her stoop
At last to madmen, fools, and to the Pope ?
No, Painter, no ! close up the piece, and see
This crowd of traitors hanged in effigy.



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252 THE POEMS



TO THE KING.
Gbeat Charles, who full of merc^ might'st coiu-

mandy
In peace and pleasure, this thj native land,
At last take pity of thy tottering throne,
Shook bj the faults of others, not thine own ;
Let not thy life and crown together end.
Destroyed by a false brother and false friend.
Observe the danger that appears so near.
That all your subjects do each minute fear :
One drop of poison, or a popish knife.
Ends all the joys of England with thy life.
Brothers, 'tis true, by nature should be kind ;
But a too zealous and ambitious mind,
Bribed with a crown on earth, and one above,
Harbours no friendship, tenderness, or love.
See in all ages what examples are
Of monarchs murdered by the impatient heir.
Hard fate of princes, who will ne'er believe.
Till the stroke's struck which they can ne'er

retrieve I



BND or THB SECOMD PABT.



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OP BLAHVELL. 253



INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER

PART m.

Painter, once more tbj pencil reassume,
And draw me, in one scene, London and Rome:
Here holy Charles, there good Aurelius sat,
Weeping to see their sons degenerate ;
His Romans^ taking up the teemei*'s trade.
The Britons jigging it in masquerade ;
While the brave youths, tired with the toil of

state.
Their weary minds and limbs to recreate,
Do to their more beloved delights repair,
One to his — , the other to his player.

Then change the scene, and let the next
present
A landscape of our motley Parliament ;
And place, hard by the bar, on the left hand,
Circean Clifibrd with his charming wand j

Our pig-eyed on his — fashion.

Set by the worst attorney of our nation.