Shall lukewarm caution, and demeanour grave,For wise and good stamp every supple knave
Shall wretches, whom no real virtue warms,
Gild fair their names and states with empty forms;
While Virtue seeks in vain the wish'd-for prize,
Because, disdaining ill, she hates disguise;
Because she frankly pours fourth all her store,
Seems what she is, and scorns to pass for more
Well—be it so—let vile dissemblers hold
Unenvied power, and boast their dear-bought gold; 340
Me neither power shall tempt, nor thirst of pelf,
To flatter others, or deny myself;
Might the whole world be placed within my span,
I would not be that thing, that prudent man.
What! cries Sir Pliant, would you then oppose
Yourself, alone, against a host of foes?
Let not conceit, and peevish lust to rail,
Above all sense of interest prevail.
Throw off, for shame! this petulance of wit;
Be wise, be modest, and for once submit: 350
Too hard the task 'gainst multitudes to fight;
You must be wrong; the World is in the right.
What is this World?—A term which men have got
To signify, not one in ten knows what;
A term, which with no more precision passes
To point out herds of men than herds of asses;
In common use no more it means, we find,
Than many fools in same opinions join'd.
Can numbers, then, change Nature's stated laws?
Can numbers make the worse the better cause? 360
Vice must be vice, virtue be virtue still,
Though thousands rail at good, and practise ill.
Wouldst thou defend the Gaul's destructive rage,
Because vast nations on his part engage?
Though, to support the rebel Caesar's cause,
Tumultuous legions arm against the laws;
Though scandal would our patriot's name impeach,
And rails at virtues which she cannot reach,
What honest man but would with joy submit
To bleed with Cato, and retire with Pitt?[96] 370
Steadfast and true to virtue's sacred laws,
Unmoved by vulgar censure, or applause,
Let the World talk, my friend; that World, we know,
Which calls us guilty, cannot make us so.
Unawed by numbers, follow Nature's plan;
Assert the rights, or quit the name of man.
Consider well, weigh strictly right and wrong;
Resolve not quick, but once resolved, be strong.
In spite of Dulness, and in spite of Wit,
If to thyself thou canst thyself acquit, 380
Rather stand up, assured with conscious pride,
Alone, than err with millions on thy side.
* * * * *
Footnotes:
[92] 'Night:' this poem was written to defend the irregularities imputed to the poet.
[93] 'Abject wretch:' Thornton, who abandoned Lloyd in his distress.
[94] 'Thankless wretch:' one Sellon, a popular clergyman, aided at first by Churchill and his set, but who betrayed and blackened them afterwards. We meet with him again in 'The Ghost' as Plausible.
[95] 'Venal Clan:' alluding to Mr. Pitt's employing the Highland clans
in the American war.
[96] 'Pitt:' who retired in 1761, because the cabinet would not go to
war with Spain.
THE PROPHECY OF FAMINE.
A SCOTS PASTORAL INSCRIBED TO JOHN WILKES, ESQ.
Nos patriam fugimus.—VIRGIL.
When Cupid first instructs his darts to fly
From the sly corner of some cook-maid's eye,
The stripling raw, just enter'd in his teens,
Receives the wound, and wonders what it means;
His heart, like dripping, melts, and new desire
Within him stirs, each time she stirs the fire;
Trembling and blushing, he the fair one views,
And fain would speak, but can't—without a Muse.
So to the sacred mount he takes his way,
Prunes his young wings, and tunes his infant lay, 10
His oaten reed to rural ditties frames,
To flocks and rocks, to hills and rills, proclaims,
In simplest notes, and all unpolish'd strains,
The loves of nymphs, and eke the loves of swains.
Clad, as your nymphs were always clad of yore,
In rustic weeds—a cook-maid now no more—
Beneath an aged oak Lardella lies—
Green moss her couch, her canopy the skies.
From aromatic shrubs the roguish gale
Steals young perfumes and wafts them through the vale. 20
The youth, turn'd swain, and skill'd
