Vice shall look pale, and Virtue thrive,
Humanity and Friendship live,
While Addison our morals rules,
And proves all villains to be fools.
Newton shall lead our ravish'd souls
Through boundless worlds beyond the poles ;
From star to star direct our way,
As certain, and as fix'd as they.
Examples were but vain, to prove
Our nation's boast, our country's love:
A land of patriots, brave and free,
While all mankind are slaves but we.
To what a height true wit can reach,
Let Waller and let Congreve teach:
And if we needs must write by rules,
Without th' assistance of the schools,
In flowing verse, and lines well wrought,
What Horace, what Quintilian thought,
(Join'd with a little mother-wit)
Roscommon and our Pope have writ.
The Fair, who best the Muse inspire, Who warm the heart, and tune the lyre, Superior to all former dames,
Inhabit now the banks of Thames.
Th' Egyptian queen the ancients boast,
For whom the well-fought world was lost,
Tell me, dear H**, thou canst tell,
Thou know'st the dead and living well,
Could she her haughty charms compare
With her, who represents her here ?
Old Homer's theme, the Grecian dame,
Who set whole nations in a flame,
No more had been the beauteous prize,
Had they beheld Lavinia's eyes;
The Greeks for her alone had strove,
And Paris had been false to love.
Thus taught, and thus inspir'd, I write What friendship, and what love indite; Free from each modern witling's vice, Envy, and slander, flattery, lies:
To please our pride, or gain our end,
Each jest should sacrifice a friend;
While one's ill-nature joins to praise
What t'other's malice dully says.
In peace my harmless minutes pass 'Twixt business, beauty, and a glass; Nor want I aught my soul to cheer, But thee, to join in pleasures here: Thus may I live till life shall end, And love my mistress, country, friend.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR M DCCXLVII.
you, my Lord, these lines I write, Lest you forget poor Coley quite, (Who still is drudging in the College, In slow pursuit of further knowledge; With many a cruel lash his
To make him some time hence a parson;
A judge, perhaps, or a physician,
Strolling on Ratcliffe's exhibition.)
While You with foreign monarchs dine, Or Sup with princes cross the Rhine, Idle your hours in lazy state, Just as forgetful as you're great; Ramble to ev'ry court your rounds,
Draw when you please an hundred pounds; Despise expence, and dress out tawdry,
In cloaths of lace, and gay embroid❜ry;
Shine at the ball, and briskly dance,
As though you had been bred in France.
I hear too that your constant trade is
To ogle and ensnare the ladies,
Whose hearts, unwary, fire like tinder,
And waste away by love t'a cinder,
Whilst you are glad to see your pride
On all occasions gratified,
And disregard your friends at London,
Not caring tho' they're hang'd or undone.
“But hold (you cry) why this abuse ?
"Pray hearken, Sir, to my excuse;
"Nor hurry with impetuous thought,
"To blame your friend, ere he's in fault.
"At th' Hague we had not time to rest us,
"Disturbances did so molest us;
"For you must know, these scoundrel Dutch "Rebel, for being tax'd too much.
"Loyal and passive we obey on,
"And bear all taxes they can lay on. "The British Lion now is couchant,
Grumbling, perhaps, but won't make much
Taking with patient resignation, "Whate'er's impos'd upon the nation. "In camp too, I'd but little leisure,
My time was so fill'd up with pleasure. "With all old school-fellows so dear, “And Albemarle and Ligonier,
"That I had scarce an hour to spare.
"The duke too shew'd me a review,
"All that at that time, he could do;
"For you must know, at present writing,
"Our armies have all done with fighting.
"From hence to Hanover we went,
"Liv'd in a round of merriment.
"I had no time to scribble letters,
"To you, dear Coley, or your betters.”
My Lord, you're right, and we from hence
Will quite o'erlook your negligence.
But, sans offence, may I enquire,
In what the present hours expire ?
What pleasure or what study best
Your temper suits, may I request ?
I hear in law you're a proficient;
And other learning have sufficient;
Can solve a problem mathematic,
And read with ease a Greek dramatic;
You're skill'd in history enough;
Of algebra have quantum suff.
And are, by learned mens' tuition,
The quintessence of erudition ;
So vers'd in all that can be nam'd,
Isis and Cam are quite asham'd,
And all their scholars are downright sick,
To see themselves outdone at Leipsick.
Tho' I have long with study mental
Labor'd at language Oriental,
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