That not in Fancy's maze he wander'd long,
But stoop'd to Truth, and moraliz'd his song:
That not for Fame, but Virtue's better end, 340
He stood the furious foe, the timid friend,
The damning critic, half
approving
wit,
The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit;
Laugh'd at the loss of friends he never had,
The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the mad; 345
The distant threats of vengeance on his head,
The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed;
The tale reviv'd, the lie so oft o'erthrown,
Th' imputed trash, and dulness not his own;
The morals blacken'd when the writings scape, 350
The libell'd person, and the pictur'd shape;
Abuse, on all he lov'd, or lov'd him, spread,
A friend in exile, or a father, dead;
The whisper, that to greatness still too near,
Perhaps, yet vibrates on his SOV'REIGN'S ear:-- 355
Welcome for thee, fair _Virtue_!
Alexander Pope
Let _Sporus_ tremble--A. What? that thing of silk,
_Sporus_, that mere white curd of Ass's milk?
Satire or sense, alas! can _Sporus_ feel? 305
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
P. Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,
This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;
Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,
Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys: 310
So well-bred spaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the game they dare not bite.
Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
Whether in florid impotence he speaks, 315
And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;
Or at the ear of _Eve_, familiar Toad,
Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,
In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,
Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies. 320
His wit all see-saw, between _that_ and _this_, }
Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, }
And he himself one vile Antithesis. }
Amphibious thing! that acting either part,
The trifling head or the corrupted heart, 325
Fop at the toilet, flatt'rer at the board,
Now trips a Lady, and now struts a Lord.
_Eve's_ tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,
A Cherub's face, a reptile all the rest;
Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust; 330
Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
Not Fortune's worshipper, nor fashion's fool,
Not Lucre's madman, nor Ambition's tool,
Not proud, nor servile;--be one Poet's praise,
That, if he pleas'd, he pleas'd by manly ways: 335
That Flatt'ry, ev'n to Kings, he held a shame,
And thought a Lie in verse or prose the same.
That not in Fancy's maze he wander'd long,
But stoop'd to Truth, and moraliz'd his song:
That not for Fame, but Virtue's better end, 340
He stood the furious foe, the timid friend,
The damning critic, half
approving
wit,
The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit;
Laugh'd at the loss of friends he never had,
The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the mad; 345
The distant threats of vengeance on his head,
The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed;
The tale reviv'd, the lie so oft o'erthrown,
Th' imputed trash, and dulness not his own;
The morals blacken'd when the writings scape, 350
The libell'd person, and the pictur'd shape;
Abuse, on all he lov'd, or lov'd him, spread,
A friend in exile, or a father, dead;
The whisper, that to greatness still too near,
Perhaps, yet vibrates on his SOV'REIGN'S ear:-- 355
Welcome for thee, fair _Virtue_!
all the past;
For thee, fair Virtue! welcome ev'n the _last_!
A. But why insult the poor, affront the great?
P. A knave's a knave, to me, in ev'ry state:
Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail, 360
_Sporus_ at court, or _Japhet_ in a jail
A hireling scribbler, or a hireling peer,
Knight of the post corrupt, or of the shire;
If on a Pillory, or near a Throne,
He gain his Prince's ear, or lose his own. 365
Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit,
_Sappho_ can tell you how this man was bit;
This dreaded Sat'rist _Dennis_ will confess
Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress:
So humble, he has knock'd at _Tibbald's_ door, 370
Has drunk with _Cibber_, nay has rhym'd for _Moore_.
Full ten years slander'd, did he once reply?
Three thousand suns went down on _Welsted's_ lie.
To please a Mistress one aspers'd his life;
He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife. 375
Let _Budgel_ charge low _Grubstreet_ on his quill,
And write whate'er he pleas'd, except his Will;
Let the two _Curlls_ of Town and Court, abuse
His father, mother, body, soul, and muse.
Yet why? that Father held it for a rule, 380
It was a sin to call our neighbour fool:
That harmless Mother thought no wife a whore:
Hear this, and spare his family, _James Moore!_
Unspotted names, and memorable long!
If there be force in Virtue, or in Song.
