 | Alexander Pope: Minor poems |  |
134
II. To the Ingenious Mr. E. Barnivelt.
Hail, dear Collegiate, Fellow-Operator,Censor of Tories, President of Satyr,
Whose fragrant Wit revives, as one may say,
The stupid World, like Assa fetida.
How safe must be the King upon his Throne,
When Barnivelt no Faction lets alone.
Of secret Jesuits swift shall be the Doom,
Thy Pestle braining all the Sons of Rome.
Before thy Pen vanish the Nation's Ills,
As all Diseases fly before thy Pills.
Such Sheets as these, whate'er be the Disaster,
Well spread with Sense, shall be the Nation's Plaister.
HIGH GERMAN DOCTOR.
| Alexander Pope: Minor poems | |