POETRT. 



ON FLATTERY. 

 For the Bit. 



bjNCE faults in the best heart «re blended. 



That I am tardy to admire. 

 Kind Sir, you cannot be offended. 



To flatter makes our patience tire. , 



'Tis long since I have gone to school. 



To learn the virtues of high station; 

 Nor (hall I be the wretched tool 



Of any rascal's celebration. 



The closer one surveys his friend. 



The lefs he finds himself his debtorj 

 All panegyrists in tjie end 



Perceive,— the Ihorter tale the better. 



That man who truly merits praise, 



When such a man is in existence, 

 Seeks not to make the vulgar gaze. 



But keeps all white walh at a distance. 



Tumbledown, 



MARTIAL, LIB. V. EPIG. X. IMITATED, 

 Tor the Bet. 



I ou eimply wonder how it comes to pafs, 



That merit when alive it oft neglected • 

 I tell you this dull world's a jealous afs, ' 

 And folly may for ever be expected. 



'Tis Envy's triumph to prefer the past, 



Sn!l on each current hmir the dxmon scowls; 



As if our sires in purer moulds were cast. 



And had not like ourselves been rogues and fools. 



Homer, they say, whom every dunce idmlres. 



Had but a very sorry vagrant life; 

 And Socrates with all his fame expires, 



Starv'd by his friends, and henpeck'd by his wife. 



That every future age will read with rapture 

 Ihese wond'rous works, most evident appe.rs ; 



Y«t If my burial must begm the chapter, 

 I'll wait with patience for an hundred years. 



Thunuirproof, 



