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Where Virtue deigns to dwell ;
In Pleasure's thoughtless train ;
In Thades sequester'd doze ;
In senseless, vile repose.
When Beauty was her throne ;
A while suspends her wing ;
And mark'd ber last retreat ;
Amidst Elysian ground:
Her secret steps to meet;
My Pelham's ardent breast;
And make a nation blest.
Attack'd on every part:
Her barbarous army fied;
Against whose solid feet,
And shade its brightest scenes ;
Think all they see deceit;
Yet doubt of light and heat.
A smiling mask her features veil'd,
Last on the left was Clamour seen,
With these, four more of leffer fame,
The walls in sculptur'd tale were rich,
With look compos'd the pris'ner stood,
Proceed we now, in humbler rains,
Th' indi&ment grievously set forth,
He was a second time indicted,
HE court was met; the pris'ner brought;
The counsel with instructions fraught;
But first 'tis meet, where form denies
Begin we then (as first 'tis fitting)
Above the rest, and in the chair,
*George Lyttelton, Esq. afterwards Lord Lyttelton. The Perlian Letters of this nobleman were written under the character of Selim, which occafioned Mr. Moore to give him the fame name in this poem.
• Afterwards Earl of Chatham.
+ Mr. Lyttelton was appointed a Lord of the Treasury 25th Dec. 1744.
In Letter to one Gilbert West, *
And all this zeal to re-instate
Exploded notions, out of date;
Sending old rakes to church in Thoals,
Like children, sniv'ling for their souls ;
And ladies gay, from smut and libels,
To learn beliefs, and read their bibles ;
Erecting conscience for a tutor,
To damn the present by the future :
As if to evils known and real
'Twas needful to annex ideal;
When all of human life we know
Is care, and bitterness, and woe,
With short transitions of delight,
To set the shatter'd spirits right,
Then wliy such mighty pains and care,
To make os hurri ler than we are?
Forbidding short-liv'd mirth and laughter,
By fears of what may come hereafter?
Belter in ignorance to dwell;
None fear, but who believe a hell ;
And if there should be one, no doubt,
Men of themselves would find it out.
But Selim's crimes, he said, went further,
And barely stopp'd on this fide murther ;
One yet remaind to close the charge,
To which (with leave) he'd speak at large,
And, first, 'twas needful to premist,
That though so long (for reasons wise)
The press inviolate had stood,
Productive of the public good ;
Yet still, too modeft to abuse,
It raiļd at vice, but told not whore.
Were made, to many an author's praise,
Who, not so scrupulously nice,
Proclaim'd the person with the vice;
Or gave, where vices might be wanted,
The name, and took the rest for granted.
Upon this plan, a Champion * rose,
Unrighteous greatness to oppose,
Proving the man “inventus non eft,"
Who trades in pow'r, and still is honest;
And (God be prais'd) he did it roundly,
Flogging a certain junto foundly.
But chief his anger was directed,
Where people least of all suspected ;
And Selim, not so ítrong as tall,
Beneath his grasp appear'd to fall.
But Innocence (as people say)
Stood by, and sav'd him in the fray.
By her affifted, and one Truth,
A busy, prating, forward youth,
He rally'd all his strength anew,
And at the foe a Letter threwt:
His weakest part the weapon found,
And brought him senseless to the ground.
Hence Opposition fed the field,
And Ignorance with her seven-fold shield;
And well they might, for (things weigh'd fully)
Who never fought with such a guard.
| An Opposition Paper at that time published, in which Mr. Lyttelton was frequently abused.
* Author of the Letters to the Whigs. Caleb D'Anvers, the name assumed by the + Probably, “ A Congratulatory Letter to Selina winters of the Craftsman.
on the Letters to the Wrigs." Svo. 1748.
For they had evidence on oath,
The court, he said, knew all the reft, That would appear too hard for both.
And must proceed as they thought beft; Of witnesses a fearful train
Only he hop'd such refignation Came next, th' indictments to sustain ;
Would plead some little mitigation ; Detraction, Hatred, and Distrust,
And if his character was clear And Party, of all foes the worst,
From other faults (and friends were near, Malice, Revenge, and Unbelief,
Who would, when callid upon, atteft it) And Disappointment worn with grief,
He did in humbleft form requeft it, Dishonour foul, unaw'd by shame,
To be from punishment exempt, And every fiend that Vice can name.
And only suffer their contempt. All these in ample form depos'd,
The pris'ner's friends their claim preferr'd, Each fact the triple charge disclos'd,
In turn demanding to be heard, With taunts and gibes of bitter fort,
Integrity and Honour (wore, And asking vengeance from the court,
Benevolence, and twenty more, The pris'ner said in his detence,
That he was always of their party, That he indeed had small pretence
And that they knew him firm and hearty. To soften facts so deeply sworn,
Religion, sober dame, attended, But would for his offences mourn;
And, as she could, his cause befriended. Yet more he hop'd than bare repentance
She said, 'twas since he came from college, Might still be urg'd to ward the sentence.
She knew him introduc'd by Knowledge : That he had held a place some years,
The man was modeft and sincere, He own'd with penitence and tears,
Nor farther could the interfere. But took it not from motives base,
The muses begg'd to interpose ; Th'indi&ment there mistook the case;
But Envy with loud hiffings rose, And though he had betray'd his trust
And callid them women of ill fame, In being to his country just,
Liars, and prostitutes to shame; Neglecting Faction and her friends,
And said, to all the world 'cwas known, He did it not for wicked ends,
Selim had had them every one. Put that complaints and feuds might ccase,
The pris'ner blush'd, the Muses frown'd, And jarring parties mix in peace.
When filence was proclaim'd around, That what he wrote to Gilbert West,
And Faction rising with the rest, Bore hard against him, he confess'd;
In form the pris'ner thus address’d. Yet there they wrong'd him; for the fact is, • You, Selim, thrice have been indicted ; He reason'd for Belief, not Practice;
First, that hy wicked pride excited, And People might believe, he thought,
And bent your country to disgrace, Though Practice might be deemed a fault.
You have receiv’d, and held a Place: He either dreamt it, or was told,
Next, Infidelity to wound, Religion was rever'd of old,
You've dar'd, with arguments profounda That it gave breeding no offence,
To drive Freethinking to a stand, And was no foe to wit and sense;
And with Religion vex the land : But whether this was truth, or whim,
And lastly in contempt of right, He would not say; the doubt with him
With horrid and unnat'ral spite, (And no great harm he hop'd) was, how
You have an Author's fame oferthrown, Th’ enlighten'd world would take it now:
Thereby to build and fence your own. If they admitted it, 'twas well;
These crimes successive, on your trial, If not, he never talk'd of hell;
Have met with proofs beyond denial ; Nor even hop'd to change men's measures, To which yourself, with shame, conceded, Or frighten ladies from their pleasures.
And but in mitigation pleaded. One accusation, he confess’d,
Yet that the justice of the court Had touch'd him, more than all the rest ;
May suffer not in men's report, Three Patriot-Letters, high in fame, .
Judgment a moment I suspend, By him o'erthrown, and brought to thame. To reason as from friend to friend. And though it was a rule in vogue,
And first, that You, of all mankind, If one man call'd another rogue,
With Kings and Courts should stain your mind! The party injur'd might reply,
You! who were Opposition's lord ! And on his foe retort the lie;
Her nerves, her finews, and her sword ! Yet what accru'd from all his labour,
That You at last, for servile ends, But foul dishonour to his neighbour?
Should wound the bowels of her friends! And he's a most unchristian elf,
Is aggravation of offence, Who others damns to save himself.
That leaves for mercy no pretence. Befdes, as all men knew, he said,
Yet more For You to urge your hate, Those Letters only rail'd for bread;
And back the Church, to aid the State ! And hunger was a known excuse
For You to publish such a Letter! For prostitution and abuse :
You ! who have known Religion better! A guinea, properly apply'd,
For You, I say, to introduce Had made the Writer change his fide ;
The fraud again there's no excuse. He wish'd he had not cut and carv'd him,
And last of all, to crown your name, And own'd, he ihould have bought, not starv'd him. Was it for you to load with blame