Charles Churchill

Amongst the sons of men how few are known Who dare be just to merit not their own! Superior virtue and superior sense,

Health to great Glo'ster!--from a man unknown, Who holds thy health as dearly as his own, Accept this greeting--nor let modest fear

How much mistaken are the men who think That all who will, without restraint may drink, May largely drink, e'en till their bowels burst,

Can the fond mother from herself depart?[22] Can she forget the darling of her heart, The little darling whom she bore and bred,

(In Three Books.) Far off (no matter whether east or west, A real country, or one made in jest,

Happy the bard (though few such bards we find) Who, 'bove controlment, dares to speak his mind; Dares, unabash'd, in every place appear,

When Pope to Satire gave its lawful way, And made the Nimrods of Mankind his prey; When haughty Windsor heard through every wood

Contrarius evehor orbi.--OVID, Met. lib. ii. When foes insult, and prudent friends dispense, In pity's strains, the worst of insolence,

Tristitiam et Metus. -HORACE. Laughs not the heart when giants, big with pride,

Accursed the man, whom Fate ordains, in spite, And cruel parents teach, to read and write! What need of letters? wherefore should we spell?

Enough of Actors--let them play the player, And, free from censure, fret, sweat, strut, and stare; Garrick[1] abroad, what motives can engage

Grace said in form, which sceptics must agree, When they are told that grace was said by me; The servants gone to break the scurvy jest

Deep in the bosom of a wood, Out of the road, a Temple[4] stood: Ancient, and much the worse for wear,

Ah me! what mighty perils wait The man who meddles with a state, Whether to strengthen, or oppose!

(In Three Books.) The clock struck twelve; o'er half the globe Darkness had spread her pitchy robe:

P. Farewell to Europe, and at once farewell To all the follies which in Europe dwell; To Eastern India now, a richer clime,

A sacred standard rule we find, By poets held time out of mind, To offer at Apollo's shrine,

It was the hour, when housewife Morn With pearl and linen hangs each thorn; When happy bards, who can regale

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence To something of exalted sense 'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,

(In Four Books.) With eager search to dart the soul, Curiously vain, from pole to pole,

Some of my friends (for friends I must suppose All, who, not daring to appear my foes, Feign great good will, and, not more full of spite

Nos patriam fugimus. -VIRGIL. When Cupid first instructs his darts to fly

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse Boldly defies all mean and partial views; With honest freedom plays the critic's part,

The time hath been, a boyish, blushing time, When modesty was scarcely held a crime; When the most wicked had some touch of grace,