A. Guard what you say; the patriotic tribe Will sneer and charge you with a bribe.-B. A bribe? The worth of his three kingdoms I defy, And, of all lies, (be that one poet's boast) Those arts be theirs, who hate his gentle reign, A. Your smooth eulogium to one crown address'd, Seems to imply a censure on the rest. B. Quevedo, as he tells his sober tale, Ask'd, when in Hell, to see the royal jail; Approv'd their method in all other things: But where, good sir, do you confine your kings? There-said his guide-the group is full in view. Indeed?-replied the don-there are but few. His black interpreter the charge disdain'dFew, fellow?-there are all that ever reign'd. Wit, undistinguishing, is apt to strike The guilty and not guilty both alike: I grant the sarcasm is too severe, And we can readily refute it here; While Alfred's name, the father of his age, And the Sixth Edward's grace th' historic page. A. Kings then at last have but the lot of all: By their own conduct they must stand or fall. B. True. While they live the courtly laureat pays A subject's faults a subject may proclaim, Respect, while stalking o'er life's narrow stage; And Death awakens from that dream too late. Whose trade it is to smile, to crouch, to pleas smooth Dissimulation, skill'd to grace devil's purpose with an angel's face; smiling peeresses, and simp'ring peers, compassing his throne a few short years; the gilt carriage and the pamper'd steed, at wants no driving, and disdains the lead; guards, mechanically form'd in ranks, aying, at beat of drum, their martial pranks, hould'ring and standing as if stuck to stone, hile condescending majesty looks on; monarchy consist in such base things, ghing, I say again, I pity kings! To be suspected, thwarted, and withstood, Hook disappointment on the public wheels; T' indulge his genius after long fatigue, By diving into cabinet intrigue; (For what kings deem a toil, as well they may, To win no praise when well-wrought plans prevail, If he indulge a cultivated taste, } His gall❜ries with the works of art well grac'd, have dwelt On situations, that they never felt, Start up sagacious, cover'd with the dust And prate and preach about what others prove, Poets, of all men, ever least regret Increasing taxes and the nation's debt. Could you contrive the payment, and rehearse No bard, howe'er majestic, old or new, A. Vouchsafe, at least, to pitch the key of rhyme Patriots, who love good places at their hearts; Gen'rals, who will not conquer when they may, |