POETRY. ^57 



* Genius is jealous; I have heard of some 

 "Who, if unnotic'd, grew perversely dumb; 

 Nay, different talents would their envy raise. 

 Poets have sicken'd at a dancer's praise ; 

 And one, the happiest writer of his time. 

 Grew pale at hearing Reynolds was sublime ; 

 That Rutland's Duchess wore a heavenly smile. — 

 And I, said he, neglected all the while ! 



* A waspish tribe are these, on gilded wings, 

 Humming their lays, and brandishing their stings ; 

 And thus they move their friends and foes among, 

 Prepar'd for soothing or satiric song. 



* Hear me, my boy, thou hast a ^artuous mind — 

 But be thy virtues of the sober kind ; 



Be not a Quixote, ever up in arms 



To give the guilty and the great alarms : 



If never heeded, thy attack is vain ; 



And if they heed thee, they'll attack again ; 



Then too in striking at that heedless rale, 



Thou in an instant may'st decide thy fate. 



' Leave admonition — let the Vicar give 

 Rules how the Nobles of his flock should live ; 

 Nor take that simple fancy to thy brain. 

 That thou canst cure the wicked and the vain. 



* Our Pope, they say, once entertain'd the whim. 

 Who fear'd not God should be afraid of him ; 



But grant they fear'd him, was it further said. 

 That he refo«n'd the hearts he made afraid ? 

 Did Chartres mend ? Ward, Waters, and a score 

 Of flagrant felons, with his floggings sore ? 

 Was Cibber silenc'd ? No; with vigour blest. 

 And brazen front, half earnest, half in jest. 

 He dar'd the Bard to battle, and was seen 

 In all his glory match'd with Pope and spleen ; 

 Himself he stripp'd, the harder blow to hit. 

 Then boldly match'd his ribaldry with wit ; 

 The Poet's conquest Truth and Time proclaim. 

 But yet the battle hurt his peace and fame. 



' Strive not too much for favour, seem at ease. 

 And rather pleas'd thyself, than bent to please : 

 Upon thy Lord with decent care attend. 

 But not too near ; thou canst not be a friend ; 



And 



