Or the End and Efficacy of Satire. The Love of Glory and fear
of Shame universal, Ver. 29. This Passion, implanted in Man
as a Spur to Virtue, is generally perverted, Ver. 41. And thus
becomes the Occasion of the greatest Follies, Vices, and Miseries,
Ver. 61. It is the Work of Satire to rectify this Passion, to re-
duce it to its proper Channel, and to convert it into an Incentive
to Wisdom and Virtue, Ver. 89. Hence it appears, that Satire
may influence those who defy all Laws Human and Divine,
Ver. 99. An Objection answered, Ver. 131.
Rules for the Conduct of Satire. Justice and Truth its chief and
essential Property, Ver. 169. Prudence in the Application of
Wit and Ridicule, whose Province is, not to explore unknown,
but to enforce known Truths, Ver. 191. Proper Subjects of Sa-
tire are the Manners of present Times, Ver. 239. Decency of
Expression recommended, Ver. 255. The different Methods in
which Folly and Vice ought to be chastised, Ver. 269. The Va-
riety of Style and Manner which these two Subjects require, Ver.
The Praise of Virtue may be admitted with Propriety,
Ver. 315. Caution with regard to Panegyric, Ver. 329.
Dignity of true Satire, Ver. 341.
The History of true Satire. Roman Satirists, Lucilius, Horace,
Persius, Juvenal, Ver. 357, &c. Causes of the Decay of Lite-
rature, particularly of Satire, Ver. 389.
Revival of Satire,
Ver. 401. Erasmus one of its principal Restorers, Ver. 405.
Donne, Ver. 411. The Abuse of Satire in England, during the
licentious Reign of Charles II., Ver. 415. Dryden, 429. The
true Ends of Satire pursued by Boileau in France, Ver. 439;
and by Mr. Pope in England, Ver. 445.
FATE
ATE gave the word; the cruel arrow sped;
And POPE lies number'd with the mighty dead!
Resign'd he fell; superior to the dart,
That quench'd its rage in YOURS and BRITAIN'S heart:
You mourn; but BRITAIN, lull'd in rest profound, (Unconscious BRITAIN !) slumbers o'er her wound. Exulting Dulness eyed the setting light,
And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the night;
Roused at the signal, Guilt collects her train,
And counts the triumphs of her growing reign; 10
With inextinguishable rage they burn,
And snake-hung ENVY hisses o'er his urn;
Th' envenom'd monsters spit their deadly foam,
To blast the laurel that surrounds his tomb.
But you, O WARBURTON! whose eye refined 15
Can see the greatness of an honest mind;
Can see each virtue and each grace unite,
And taste the raptures of a pure delight;
You visit oft his awful
And view that bright assemblage treasured there ;
You trace the chain that links his deep design,
And pour new lustre on the glowing line.
Yet deign to hear the efforts of a Muse,
Whose eye, not wing, his ardent flight pursues:
Intent from this great archetype to draw
SATIRE'S bright form, and fix her equal law; Pleased if from hence th' unlearn'd may comprehend,
And reverence HIS and SATIRE's generous end.
In every breast there burns an active flame,
The love of glory, or the dread of shame :
The passion ONE, though various it appear,
As brighten'd into hope, or dimm'd by fear.
The lisping infant, and the hoary sire,
And youth and manhood feel the heart-born fire:
The charms of praise the coy, the modest, woo, 35
And only fly that glory may pursue:
She, power resistless, rules the wise and great;
Bends even reluctant hermits at her feet;
Haunts the proud city, and the lowly shade,
And sways alike the sceptre and the spade.
Thus Heaven in pity wakes the friendly flame,
To urge mankind on deeds that merit fame:
But man, vain man, in folly only wise,
Rejects the manna sent him from the skies;
With rapture hears corrupted Passion's call,
Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall.
As each deceitful shadow tempts his view,
He for the imaged substance quits the true;
Eager to catch the visionary prize,
In quest of glory, plunges deep in vice;
Till madly zealous, impotently vain,
He forfeits every praise he pants to gain.
Thus still imperious NATURE plies her part,
And still her dictates work in every heart.
Each power that sovereign Nature bids enjoy, 55
Man may corrupt, but man can ne'er destroy.
Like mighty rivers, with resistless force
The passions rage, obstructed in their course;
Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore,
And drown those virtues which they fed before. 60
And sure, the deadliest foe to virtue's flame,
Our worst of evils is perverted shame.
Beneath this load what abject numbers groan,
Th' entangled slaves to folly not their own!
Meanly by fashionable fear oppress'd
We seek our virtues in each other's breast;
Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign vice,
Another's weakness, interest, or caprice.
Each fool to low ambition, poorly great,
That pines in splendid wretchedness of state; 70
Tired in the treacherous chase, would nobly yield,
And, but for shame, like SYLLA, quit the field:
The demon Shame paints strong the ridicule,
And whispers close, "The world will call you fool."
Behold yon wretch, by impious fashion driven, 75
Believes and trembles while he scoffs at Heaven.
By weakness strong, and bold through fear alone,
He dreads the sneer by shallow coxcombs thrown;
Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod;
To man a coward, and a brave to God.
Ver. 80. To man a coward, &c.]
Vois tu ce Libertin en public intrépide,
Qui prêche contre un Dieu que dans son ame il croit?
Il iroit embrasser la vérité qu'il voit;
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