University of Virginia Library

What Hand, what Skill can frame the Artful Piece,
To paint our Ruins in a proper Dress?
Inspire us, Denham's Genius, whilst we write,
Urg'd by true Zeal to do our Country right;
As when the daring Artist, taught by you,
With Master-strokes the first bold Landskip drew.

Here, Painter, here employ thy utmost Skill;
With War and Slav'ry the large Canvas fill:
And that the Lines be easier understood,
Paint not with fading Colours, paint with Blood;
Blood of our bravest Youth in Battel slain,
At Steenkirk spilt, or Landen's fatal Plain;
Or that which flow'd, and does just Heaven invoke,
When F---k yield to the fatal Stroke.

First draw the (R) Hero seated on the Throne,
Spite of all Law, himself observing none;
Let English Rights all gasping round him lie,
And native Freedom thrown neglected by:
On either hand the Priest and Lawyer set,
Two fit Supporters of the Monarch's Seat.
There in a greazy Rotchet cloth'd describe
The bulky Oracle of the Preaching Tribe;
That solid necessary Tool of State,
Profoundly Dull, Divinely Obstinate.
Here with polluted Robes just reeking draw
The Adulterous Moderator of the Law;
Whose wrinkled Cheeks and fallow Looks proclaim,
The ill effect of his distemper'd Flame.

Next cringing B*n---g place, whose Earth-born Race
The Coronet and Garter does disgrace;
Of undescended Parentage, made great
By Chance, his Vertues not discover'd yet.
Patron of the Noblest Order; O be just
To thy Heroick Founder's injur'd Dust!
From his Ignoble Neck thy Collar tear,
Let not his Breast thy Rays of Honour wear;
To black Designs and Lust let him remain
A servile Favorite, and Grants obtain:
While antient Honours sacred to the Crown
Are lavish'd to support the Minion.
Pale Envy rages in his canker'd Breast,
And to the British Man a Foe profest.

Artist retire, 'twere Insolence too great
T'expose the Secrets of the Cabinet;
Or tell how they their looser Minutes spend,
That guilty Scene would all chast Eyes offend.
For should you pry into the close Alcove,
And draw the Exercise of Royal Love,
K*pp*l and He are Ganymede and Jove.
Avert the Omen, Heavens! O may I ne'er
Purchase a Title at a Rate so dear:
In some mean Cottage let me die unknown,
Rather than thus be Darling of a Throne.

Now Painter, now thy Art is at a stand,
For who can draw that Proteus S---d---d?
The deep Reserves of whose Apostate Mind,
No Skill can reach, no Principles can bind;
Whose working Brain does more Disguises bear
Than ever yet in Vision did appear.
A supple whispering Minister, ne'er just,
Confided still, still failing in his Trust,
And only constant to unnat'ral Lust.
For Witchery and prostituted Faith made great,
Yet this is he that must support the Weight,
And prop the Ruins of a falling State.

Artist proceed, next the brib'd Senate draw,
That Arbitrary Body above Law;
Place Noise and Faction and Disorder there,
And formal Paul set mumping in the Chair;
Once the chief Bulwark of the Church and State,
Their Darling once, but now their Fear and Hate:
So a rich Cordial, when its Virtues spent,
Contributes to the Death it should prevent.
Of publick Treasure lavishly profuse,
Large Sums diverted to their private use;
By Places and by Bounties largely paid,
For Rights given up, and Liberties betray'd.
Expose the Mercenary Herd to view,
And in the Front Imperious M---gue:
With venal Wit, and prostituted Sense,
With matchless Pride and matchless Impudence;
To whose successful Villany we owe
All his own Ills, and all that others do.
Slavish Excises are his darling Sin,
And Chequer-Bills the Project of his Brain;
No publick Prospect, but conducing most
To raise his Fortune at the publick Cost.
Order and Precedents are Terms of Course,
Too weak to interrupt his rapid Force;
Till Wiser Commons shall in time to come
Their Antient English Principles resume,
And give their base Corrupter his just Doom.
Thus have I seen a Whelp of Lion's Brood
Couch, fawn and lick his Keeper's Hand for Food,
Till in some fatal Hour the generous Beast,
By an insulting Lash, or some gross Fraud opprest,
His just Resentment terribly declares,
Disdains the Marks of Slavery he wears,
And his weak Feeder into pieces tears.

Here Painter draw our Politician B---le,
That fawning Arse-worm with his cringing smile;
Relations, Country, Court do all despise him,
He's grown so low ev'n B*g**ry can't rise him.
Let Gaffney's noble Hangman next advance,
And tell his Fears of Popery and France;
And for the blust'ring Pedant leave a space,
Who wears Corinthian Metal in his face:
See where the florid warlike C*tts appears,
As brave and senseless as the Sword he wears.
Here Sloan baits S---ur, L---ton Jack H---,
And all the while old Bowman cries Bow Wow.
To P**ms and St---land, and the Yorkshire Crew
By Sm*th directed, the next Station's due.
Sm*th whilst he seems good-natur'd, frank and kind,
Betrays th'inveterate Temper of his Mind.
To the Chit Sp---r Painter next be just,
That weak sour Offspring of a forced Lust,
Which his unnatural Father grudg'd to spare
From his Italian Joy, and spoil'd his Heir;
From hence that aukward Politician came,
To Commonwealth, which he admires, a Shame,
A Slave to Kings tho he abhors the Name.
He votes for Armies, talks for Liberty,
In th'House for Millions, out for Property:
Thus Father-like, with Flattery betrays
That Government which he propos'd to raise.
Near him Lord William bawls, whose well-stock'd Brain
Out-weighs Chit's Index-Learning half a Grain.
With these as fellow Empricks in design,
Let W**ton, Rich, Y**ng, Cl**k, and Hubbard join;
And let not H***les pass unregarded by.
'Twere endless to recount the meaner Fry
Of yelping Yeas and No's, who baul by rote,
To multiply the Unites of a Vote;
Opprest with Clamour, Truth and Justice flies,
And thus pursu'd, down hunted Reason lies.

Some few untainted Patriots yet remain,
Who native Zeal and Probity retain;
These sullen draw, disgrac'd and discontent,
Mourning the Ruin which they can't prevent.
But Painter hold—Reserve the vacant Room
For Knaves in Embrio, and Rogues to come;
Who undiscover'd yet with Ease betray,
And sell their Country in a closer way.