May Tom, whom heav'n sent down to Digest his thirty thousandth din. raise

15 ner; The price of prologues and of plays, Walk to his grave without reproach, Be ev'ry birth-day more a winner, And scorn a rascal and a coach.

20

A

BISHOP HOUGH.
BISHOP, by his neighbours hated,

Has cause to wish himself translated;
But why should Hough desire translation,
Loved and esteemed by all the nation?
Yet if it be the old man's case,
I'll lay my life I know the place:
'Tis where God sent some that adore him,
And whither Enoch went before him.

5

6

PRAYER OF ST FRANCIS XAVIER. [TRANSLATED from an Oratio a Sancto Xavierio composita, at the desire of a Catholic priest named Brown. Gentleman's Magazine, October, 1791, where the original is given comme

mencing ' O Deus, ego amo te.']
"HOU art my God, sole object of my love;
Not for the fear of endless pains below,
Which they who love thee not must undergo.
For me, and such as me, thou deign'st to bear

5
An ignominious cross, the nails, the spear:
A thorny crown transpierc'd thy sacred brow,
While bloody sweats from ev'ry member flow.
For me in tortures thou resignd'st thy breath,
Embrac'd me on the cross, and savd me by thy death.
And can these sufferings fail my heart to move ?
What but thyself can now deserve my love ?
Such as then was, and is, thy love to me,
Such is, and shall be still, my love to thee-
To thee, Redeemer! mercy's sacred spring!

15 My God, my Father, Maker, and my King!

10

1740.

A POEM.

[This unfinished piece was communicated to Warton by Dr Wilson, formerly Fellow and Librarian of Trinity College, Dublin, to whom it had been lent by a grandson of Lord Chetwynd, 'an intimate friend of the famous Lord Bolingbroke, who gratified his curiosity by a box full of the rubbish and sweepings of Pope's study, whose executor he was, in conjunction with Lord Marchmont. It is possible that Bowles' conjecture may be correct, according to which '1740' was to grow into the third Dialogue which Pope at one time intended to add to the Epilogue to the Satires. See the Verses on receiving from Lady Frances Shirley a Standish, &c. ante, p. 448]. Roscoe doubts whether so mediocre a production be Pope's: Carruthers also hesitates on the subject; and the piece is at most to be taken as a few rough jottings accidentally discovered.)

O

5

IO

4

WRETCHED B1! jealous now of all,

What God, what mortal, shall prevent thy fall ?
Turn, turn thy eyes from wicked_men in place,
And see what succour from the Patriot Race.
C—, his own proud dupe, thinks Monarchs things
Made just for him, as other fools for Kings;
Controls, decides, insults thee every hour,
And antedates the hatred due to Pow'r.

Through Clouds of Passion P-—'s3 views' are clear,
He foams a Patriot to subside a peer;
Impatient sees his country bought and sold,
And damns the market where he takes no gold.

Grave, righteous S-4 jogs on till, past belief,
He finds himself companion with a thief.

To purge and let thee blood, with fire and sword,
Is all the help stern S- -5 would afford.

That those who bind and rob thee, would not kill,
Good C- 6 hopes, and candidly sits still.

Of Ch—5 W -7 who speaks at all,
No more than of Sir Har-y! or Sir P-
Whose names once up, they thought it was not wrong
To lie in bed, but sure they lay too long.
G-ro, C

B- —+13, pay thee due regards,
Unless the ladies bid them mind their cards.

with wit that must
And C -d13, who speaks so well and writes,
Whom (saving W.14) every S. 15 harper bites.

15

20

25 30

35

40

45

must needs Whose wit and

equally provoke one,
Finds thee, at best, the butt to crack his joke on.

As for the rest, each winter up they run,
And all are clear, that something must be done,
Then, urged by C-t, or by C- -t stopp'd,
Inflam'd by P——?, and by P-dropp'd;
They follow rev’rently each wondrous wight,
Amaz'd that one can read, that one can write:
So geese to gander prone obedience keep,
Hiss, if he hiss, and if he slumber, sleep.
Till having done whate'er was fit or fine,
Utter'd a speech, and ask'd their friends to dine;
Each hurries back to his paternal ground,
Content but for five shillings in the pound;
Yearly defeated, yearly hopes they give,
And all agree, Sir Robert cannot live.

Rise, rise, great W-3, fated to appear,
Spite of thyself, a glorious minister !
Speak the loud language Princes
And treat with half the
At length to B-44 kind, as to thy
Espouse the nation, you

What can thy H5
Dress in Dutch
Tho'still he travels on no bad pretence,
To show .

Or those foul copies of thy face and tongue,
Veracious W _$, and frontless Young?;
Sagacious Bubbs, so late a friend, and there
So late a foe, yet more sagacious H- -9 ?
Hervey and Hervey's school, F, H- -y, H——n,
Yea, moral Ebor, or religious Winton "1.
How! what can O- -w, what can D-
The wisdom of the one and other chair,
N- _13, laugh, or D- sager,
Or thy dread truncheon, M.'s mighty peer15?
What help from J—'s 16 opiates canst thou draw,
Or H- k's quibbles voted into law 17?

C. that Roman in his nose alone 18,

60

14 -S

65

70

75

80

Who hears all causes, B-1, but thy own,
Or those proud fools whom nature, rank, and fate
Made fit companions for the Sword of State.

Can the light packhorse, or the heavy steer,
The sousing Prelate, or the sweating Peer,
Drag out, with all its dirt and all its weight,
The lumb'ring carriage of thy broken State?
Alas! the people curse, the carman swears,
The drivers quarrel, and the master stares.

The plague is on thee, Britain, and who tries
To save thee, in th' infectious office, dies.
The first firm Py3, soon resign'd his breath.
Brave S-w4 lov'd' thee, and was lied to death.
Good M-m-t's fate tore P- -th from thy sides,
And thy last sigh was heard, when W- m died.

Thy nobles Sl—s, thy Se-s bought with gold,
Thy Clergy perjur'd, thy whole people sold.
An Atheist a '''s ad
Blotch thee all o'er, and sink

Alas! on one alone our all relies?,
Let him be honest, and he must be wise;
Let him no trifler from his

school, Nor like his

still a
Be but a man! unminister'd, alone,
And free at once the Senate and the Throne;
Esteem the public love his best supply,
A O's true glory his integrity;
Rich with his

in ... his strong,
Affect no conquest, but endure no wrong.
Whatever his religion or his blood,
His public virtue makes his title good.
Europe's just balance and our own may stand,
And one man's honesty redeem the land.

Cambridge: : PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY, M.A. AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.