Tam patiens urbis, tam ferrcus ut tencat se? Juv. THO' grief and fondness in my breast rebel, Who now refolves, from vice and LONDON far, 5 For who wou'd leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's land, Born 1709; dyed 1784. 2. THALES is Richard Savage (see vol. 1. p. 339) u bo " left London in July 1739, and parted from the author with tears in his eyes." See bis Lije. Here malice, rapine, accident conspire, Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay, 15 20 While THALES waits the wherry that contains Of diffipated wealth the fmall remains, On Thames's banks, in filent thought we flood, Where Greenwich fmiles upon the filver flood: Struck with the seat that gave * Eliza birth, We kneel, and kifs the confecrated earth; In pleafing dreams the blissful age renew, And call Britannia's glories back to view; 25 Behold her cross triumphant on the main, The guard of commerce, and the dread of Spain. Ere masquerades debauch'd, excife opprefs'd, Or English honour grew a standing jeft. A tranfient calm the happy fcenes bestow, And for a moment luil the fenfe of woe. At length awaking, with contemptuous frown, Indignant THALES eyes the neighb'ring town. 39 Since worth, he cries, in thefe degen❜rate days 35 Wants ev'n the cheap reward of empty praise ; In those curs'd walls, devote to vice and gain, Since unrewarded science toils in vain; Since hope but fooths to double my distress, And ev'ry moment leaves my little less; * Queen Elizabeth born at Greenwich, While yet my fteady fteps no ftaff fuftains, Some pleafing bank where verdant ofiers play, 45 Let live here, for has learn'd to live. 50 With warbling eunuchs fill a licens'd stage, 60 Heroes, proceed! what bounds your pride shall hold? What check reftrain your thirst of pow'r and gold? Behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown, Behold our fame, our wealth, our lives your own. To fuch, a groaning nation's fpoils are giv'n, 65 When publick crimes inflame the wrath of heav'n: But what, my friend, what hope remains for me, Who ftart at theft, and blush at perjury? 70 Who fcarce forbear, tho' BRITAIN'S court he fing. 75 Well may they rife, while I, whofe ruftick tongue Ne'er knew to puzzle right, or varnish wrong, 80 Spurn'd as a beggar, dreaded as a spy, Live unregarded, unlamented die. For what but focial guilt the friend endears? The cheated nation's happy fav'rites, fee! 85 95 Forgive my tranfports on a theme like this, 100 Illurious EDWARD! from the realms of day, Of France the mimick, and of Spain the prey. 105 Hils'd from the ftage, or hooted from the court, Their air, their drefs, their politicks import; 110 Obfequious, artful, voluble and gay, On Britain's fond credulity they play. No gainful trade their induftry can 'fcape, They fing, they dance, clean fhoes, and cure a clap; All sciences a fafting Monfieur knows, And bid him go to hell, to hell he goes. I drew the breath of life in English air; Studious to pleale, and ready to fubmit, 115 I 20 |