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

Tonurfe with tender care the thriving arts,
Watch every beam philofophy imparts;
To give religion her unbridl'd scope,
Nor judge by ftatute a believer's hope;
With clofe fidelity and love unfeign'd,
To keep the matrimonial bond unftain'd;
Covetous only of a virtuous praife,
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 sheath it in the peace-reftoring close,
With joy, beyond what victory bestows,
Bleft country! where these kingly glories fhine,
Bleft England! if this happiness be thine.

A. Guard what you say, 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 baseness of a lie.

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And of all lies (be that one poet's boast)
The lie that flatters I abhor the moft.

Those arts be their's that 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 rest.

B. Quevedo, as he tells his fober tale,
Afk'd, when in hell, to fee the royal jail,
Approv'd their method in all other things,

But where, good Sir, do you confine your kings?
There faid his guide, the groupe 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 undistinguishing is apt to strike

The guilty and not guilty, both alike.


grant the farcafm 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' historic page.

A. Kings

A. Kings then at laft have but the lot of all, By their own conduct they muft ftand or fall.

B. True. While they live, the courtly laureat pays His quit-rent ode, his pepper-corn of praise,

And many a dunce whofe 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 majefty engage

Refpect, while stalking o'er life's narrow stage,
Then leave their crimes for hiftory to scan,
And afk with bufy fcorn, Was this the man?
I pity kings whom worship waits upon
Obfequious, from the cradle to the throne,
Before whofe infant eyes the flatt'rer bows,
And binds a wreath about their baby brows.
Whom education ftiffens into ftate,

And death awakens from that dream too late.

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Oh! if fervility with fupple knees,
Whofe trade it is to fmile, to crouch, to pleafe;
If fmooth diffimulation, fkill'd to grace

A devil's purpose with an angel's face;
If fmiling peereffes and fimp'ring peers,
Incompaffing his throne a few fhort years;
If the gilt carriage and the pamper'd fteed,
That wants no driving and difdains the lead;
If guards, mechanically form'd in ranks,
Playing, at beat of drum, their martial pranks;
Should'ring and standing as if ftruck to ftone,
While condescending majefty looks on;
If monarchy confift in fuch bafe things,
Sighing, I fay again, I pity kings!

To be fufpected, thwarted, and withstood,
Ev'n when he labours for his country's good,
To fee a band call'd patriotic for no cause,
But that they catch at popular applaufe,
Careless of all th' anxiety he feels,

Hook difappointment on the public wheels,

With all their flippant fluency of tongue,
Moft confident, when palpably most 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 stairs,
To which th' unwash'd artificer repairs,
T' 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 cenfur'd when they fail,

To doubt the love his fav'rites may pretend,
And in reality to find no friend,

If he indulge a cultivated taste

His gall'ries with the works of art well grac'd,
To hear it call'd extravagance and waste,
If these attendants, and if fuch as these,
Muft follow royalty, then welcome ease;
However humble and confin'd the sphere,
Happy the ftate that has not these to fear:

A. Thus

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