A Poetical Abridgement, Both in Latin and English, Of the Reverend Mr. Tutor Bentham's Letter to a Young Gentleman of Oxford To which are added Some Remarks on the Letter to a Fellow of a College. By the Author of the Proposal, &c. [i.e. William King] |
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 | A Poetical Abridgement, Both in Latin and English, Of the Reverend Mr. Tutor Bentham's Letter to a Young Gentleman of Oxford |  |
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A Poetical Abridgement, &c.
Little B---, who writes (and who doubts his Ability?)Latin, English, and Greek, all with equal Facility,
Now collects his whole Force on a weighty Occasion,
And bestows on our Alma a quaint Dissertation:
Reprimands the hot Youth, who so wilful is grown,
That surveying all Parties he sticks to his own;
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That he fancies his Father, as honest as Neddy.
Neddy frets, and grows angry; then cools, and replies;
Mingles old and new Laws; and affirms, and denies:
Like a shrewd Politician, to prove all his Facts,
In the Space of one Page he cites half a score Acts.
But are these insufficient? the Scripture comes next;
And to aid the late Statutes, he quotes a strong Text.
And, I trow, lest old Folk should his Language recall,
When he spake, as a Tory, and warm, as St. Paul;
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Yet—provided this Doctrine shall keep its due Distance.
For, as now the Case stands, to resist is not Treason,
If a King should rule so, as to rule without Reason.
Thus—as if we were Apes, should he censure our Features;
May we not, Sirs, declare, We're reasonable Creatures?
And the Man, who's oppress'd, or can't make his Escape,
May he not take up Arms to maintain, He's no Ape?
Still supposing, no Grievance, that's only pretended,
Be a Matter of quarrel, as fit to be mended:
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Though the Grievance be great, in the present K---s Reign.
For although to Free-thinkers the Matter seems odd;
Yet the Powers, that be are ordained of God.
Are ordained of God—That is surely the Letter.
But, I pray you observe, We may change for the better,
If it suits with our Customs, our Humours, and Fancies,
(Such the Wisdom of Man is) even God's Ordinances.
Next—To shew that his Rules are not founded on Fables,
Ned exhibits his new chronological Tables:
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What before never entred an Head, that had Brains,
How, in sixty Years after a King hath been dead,
We may plainly distinguish white Roses from red;
With the Requisites royal, which form a true Line,
And bestow on great Monarchs the Jus call'd divine.
Thus Augustus transmitted a Right unto Nero:
Thus our K---s derive theirs from old Lilly Bolero.
And by this Computation it plainly appears,
That the Danes and Nol Cromwell were short by some Years.
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For a little more time would have made 'em true Kings.
Then remark, tho' it does not square well with his Plan,
Ned believes the first Charles was a very good Man;
And his Counsellors too, he inclines to allow,
Were a sort of good Folk—What they would not be now.
For, howe'er he is touch'd by the Truths he has read,
And esteems some great Monarchs, who long have been dead:
Yet he wisely contends, and, I think, 'tis confest,
That the K---g, who is regnant, is always the best:
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Since our true Constitution is clearly made out.
Neddy therefore exults, and accounts it great Gain;
That he lives, that he thrives, in so righteous a Reign:
And insists, for this Reason we loudly declare
All we talk in our Cups, what we wish, what we are:
That henceforth we be deem'd, as it greatly imports us,
Just as honest and wise, as the man who exhorts us.
Then alas! tho' but few may deserve to be sainted,
'Twill appear, that we are not so bad, as we're painted,
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That the few real Jacks here are sober, and think.
But, because he suspects, the Borlacians may sneer him,
Tho' by Nature so gentle, he'll make us all fear him:
So assumes a fierce Look, and concludes in a Rage,
To compel our Consent, with a terrible Page:
Which the Muses were ever afraid to rehearse;
And the Laureat himself ne'er attempted in Verse.
And should I the Arch-Poet's own Province invade,
Well I wot, that good Pæan will lend me no Aid.
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More than all the Laws penal, which hang o'er my Head,
By his Magic may swell to a Folio my Crime,
If a Matter so sacred I turn into Rhyme.
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ADVICE TO The Reverend Mr. Tutor E. B.
Translated from the Latin.
To oblige you, good Sir, I have read with great Pleasure,And examin'd your learned Epistle at Leisure.
Now a Word in my turn, if you are not too nice
To receive from a Junior some wholesome Advice.
First, revere the Sage B---ke! and, as if 'twere the Devil,
Fly away from the Law, hight Imperial, or Civil.
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And alledge, what the Act in such Cases directs.
Then, remember, howe'er you insist on the Seasons,
That a Head full of Logic should furnish out Reasons.
And attend to this Item; whilst others you teach,
O! consider, how far your own Genius will reach.
For, unless you well measure the Length of your Chain,
With the same force you rise, you'll be pull'd down again;
Ridicul'd, and disgrac'd, and so bruis'd and so sore,
That, I fear, you'll ne'er venture to climb any more.
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Tho' you publish whole Volumes, your Labours are vain,
Half a Casuist, half Lawyer, half Courtier, half Cit,
Half a Tory, half Whig (may I add, half a Wit?)
Never hope to succeed without changing your Note;
Or, unless, like your Neighbours, you're prov'd by your Vote.
If you doubt my Monition, go, make your appeal
To the Patriots, who were—to my ------
He'll assure you (and who in this Case hath more Knowledge?)
If you turn thus by halves, you will stick in the College.
| A Poetical Abridgement, Both in Latin and English, Of the Reverend Mr. Tutor Bentham's Letter to a Young Gentleman of Oxford | |