Durgen Or, A Plain Satyr upon a Pompous Satyrist. Amicably Inscrib'd, by the Author, to those Worthy and Ingenious Gentlemen misrepresented in a late invective Poem, call'd, The Dunciad [by Edward Ward] |
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 | Durgen |  |
Therefore, no longer on Applause depend,
For common Vogue is but a faithless Friend,
Gain'd by small Merit, eas'ly won or lost,
Yet fails us oft, when we deserve it most;
Like Musick's Sound, it sooths our list'ning Ears,
And is no sooner heard but it expires:
Then curb your swelling Pride, be not so vain,
But, with more mildness treat Apollo's Train;
Whose Pens first made you famous in the Town,
And those that rais'd you up, can pull you down;
Poets, like Statesmen, should be calmly wise,
And cautious how they taunt or tyrannize:
For publick Favour, tho' its eas'ly gain'd,
Is hard to be preserv'd, or re-obtain'd;
If therefore, they incur the Peoples spight,
One cannot safely Act, nor t'other Write;
Like thine, their best endeavours will be crost,
No Conduct will recover Fame when lost;
Or, if it does, we by Experience find,
Like Wounds when cur'd, the Scars are left behind.
So beauteous Women, if they're once debauch'd,
Tho' they turn Saints, will always be reproach'd.
Nor will the utmost Arts your Wit can use,
Redeem the Credit of your sinking Muse;
The vile Reflections you've unjustly cast,
Will surely prove your overthrow at last;
And make you glad to revel, skip, and bound,
Among the croaking Frogs in your Profund.
For Scandal, tho' it titilates the Town,
Like a Ball tost against a Wall of Stone,
Reverb'rates on the Wretch by whom the Dirt is thrown.
For common Vogue is but a faithless Friend,
Gain'd by small Merit, eas'ly won or lost,
Yet fails us oft, when we deserve it most;
Like Musick's Sound, it sooths our list'ning Ears,
And is no sooner heard but it expires:
Then curb your swelling Pride, be not so vain,
But, with more mildness treat Apollo's Train;
Whose Pens first made you famous in the Town,
And those that rais'd you up, can pull you down;
Poets, like Statesmen, should be calmly wise,
And cautious how they taunt or tyrannize:
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Is hard to be preserv'd, or re-obtain'd;
If therefore, they incur the Peoples spight,
One cannot safely Act, nor t'other Write;
Like thine, their best endeavours will be crost,
No Conduct will recover Fame when lost;
Or, if it does, we by Experience find,
Like Wounds when cur'd, the Scars are left behind.
So beauteous Women, if they're once debauch'd,
Tho' they turn Saints, will always be reproach'd.
Nor will the utmost Arts your Wit can use,
Redeem the Credit of your sinking Muse;
The vile Reflections you've unjustly cast,
Will surely prove your overthrow at last;
And make you glad to revel, skip, and bound,
Among the croaking Frogs in your Profund.
For Scandal, tho' it titilates the Town,
Like a Ball tost against a Wall of Stone,
Reverb'rates on the Wretch by whom the Dirt is thrown.
| Durgen | |