The glafs, that bids man mark the fleeting hour,
And death's own fcythe would better speak his power;

Then grace the bony phantom in their stead
With the king's shoulder-knot and gay cockade;
Clothe the twin brethren in each other's drefs,
The fame their occupation and fuccefs.

A. 'Tis your belief the world was made for man;
Kings do but reafon on the self-fame plan :
Maintaining your's, you cannot their's condemn,
Who think, or feem to think, man made for them.
B. Seldom, alas! the power of logic reigns
With much fufficiency in royal brains;

Such reasoning falls like an inverted cone,
Wanting it's proper bafe to ftand upon.
Man made for kings! thofe optics are but dim,
That tell you fo—say, rather, they for him.
That were indeed a king-ennobling thought,
Could they, or would they, reason as they ought.
The diadem, with mighty projects lined
To catch renown by ruining mankind,

Is worth, with all its gold and glittering ftore,
Juft what the toy will fell for, and no more.
Oh! bright occafions of difpenfing good,
How feldom used, how little understood!
To pour in virtue's lap her just reward,
Keep vice restrained behind a double guard;

To quell the faction, that affronts the throne,
By filent magnanimity alone;

To nurfe with tender care the thriving arts,
Watch ev'ry beam philofophy imparts;

To give religion her unbridled scope,
Nor judge by ftatute a believer's hope;
With close fidelity and love unfeign'd
To keep the matrimonial bond unstain'd;
Covetous only of a virtuous praise;
His life a leffon to the land he fways;
To touch the fword with confcientious awe,
Nor draw it but when duty bids him draw;
To fheath it in the peace-reftoring close
With joy beyond what victory bestows;
Bleft country, where thefe kingly glories fhine;
Bleft England, if this happiness be thine!

A. Guard what you fay; the patriotic tribe
Will fneer and charge you with a bribe.-B. A bribe?
The worth of his three kingdoms I defy,

To lure me to the bafenefs of a lie.

And, of all lies, (be that one poet's boaft)

The lie that flatters I abhor the moft.

Thofe arts be their's, who hate his gentle reign,
But he that loves him has no need to feign.

A. Your fmooth eulogium to one crown addrefs'd, Seems to imply a cenfure on the reft.

B. Quevedo, as he tells his fober tale,
Afk'd, when in hell, to see the royal jail;
Approv'd their method in all other things:
But where, good fir, 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 difdain'd-
Few, fellow?—there are all that ever reign'd.
Wit, undiftinguishing, is apt to ftrike
The guilty and not guilty both alike:
I grant the farcasm is too fevere,
And we can readily refute it here;

While Alfred's name, the father of his age,
And the Sixth Edward's grace th' hiftoric 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
His quit-rent ode, his pepper-corn of praise;
And many a dunce whose fingers itch to write,
Adds, as he can, his tributary mite:

A fubject's faults a fubject may proclaim,
A monarch's errors are forbidden game!
Thus free from cenfure, over-aw'd by fear,
And prais'd for virtues, that they scorn to wear,
The fleeting forms of majesty engage

Respect, while stalking o'er life's narrow stage;

Then leave their crimes for hiftory to fean,
And afk with busy scorn, Was this the man?
I pity kings, whom worship waits upon
Obfequious from the cradle to the throne;
Before whofe infant eyes the flatterer bows,
And binds a wreath about their baby brows;
Wm education ftiffens into ftate,

And death awakens from that dream too late.
Oh! if fervility with fupple knees,

Whofe trade it is to fmile, to crouch, to please;
If fmoon diffimulation, fkilled to grace
A devil's purpofe with an angel's face;
If filing peereffes, and fimpering peers,
Ercompaffing his throne a few short years;
If the gilt carriage and the pampered steed,
That wants no driving, and difdains the lead;
If guards, mechanically formed in ranks,
Playing, at beat of drum, their martial pranks,
Shouldering and standing as if ftuck to ftone,
While condefcending majefty looks on;
If monarchy consist in such base things,
Sighing, I fay again, I pity kings!

To be fufpected, thwarted, and withstood,
Even when he labours for his country's good;
To fee a band, called patriot for no cause,
But that they catch at popular applaufe,

Careless of all the anxiety he feels,
Hook difappointment on the public wheels;
With all their flippant fluency of tongue,
Moft confident, when palpably moft wrong;
If this be kingly, then farewell for me
All kingship; and may I be poor and free!
To be the Table Talk of clubs up ftairs,
To which the unwashed artificer repairs,
To indulge his genius after long fatigue,
By diving into cabinet intrigue

(For what kings deem a toil, as well they may,
To him is relaxation and mere play)

To win no praise when well-wrought plans prevail,
But to be rudely cenfured when they fail ;

To doubt the love his favourites may pretend,
And in reality to find no friend;

If he indulge a cultivated tafte,

His galleries with the works of art well graced,
To hear it called extravagance and wafte;
If these attendants, and if fuch as thefe,
Muft follow royalty, then welcome ea e;
However humble and confined the sphere,
Happy the ftate, that has not these to fear.

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4.Thus men, whose thoughts contemplative have dwelt On fituations, that they never felt,