 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
173
The BONDS-MEN:
A Satyr. Occasioned by a Report, that some Persons had enter'd into Bonds not to subscribe for Books.
Portia.
Shylock.
'Twere good you do so much for Charity.
Shylock.
I cannot find it, 'tis not in the Bond. Jew of Venice.
I sing the Men, who with Subscription fight,
And Mercy in one instance banish quite;
Who legal Bonds, as Fame reports, have sign'd,
For fear to Wit in Want they should be kind:
Those who with conscious Prudence Writing hate,
The Coxcomb rattling with unmeaning Prate,
The modish Ignorant, to Learning Foe,
The odious Miser, and the whiffling Beau.
Oh that my Verse so nobly might succeed,
At least with those Engagers who can read,
To make them cancel their inglorious Deed!
And Mercy in one instance banish quite;
Who legal Bonds, as Fame reports, have sign'd,
For fear to Wit in Want they should be kind:
Those who with conscious Prudence Writing hate,
The Coxcomb rattling with unmeaning Prate,
The modish Ignorant, to Learning Foe,
The odious Miser, and the whiffling Beau.
Oh that my Verse so nobly might succeed,
At least with those Engagers who can read,
To make them cancel their inglorious Deed!
O OXFORD! human, gen'rous, and sincere;
Humble, not base, and stedfast, not severe;
A while with no unwilling Ear attend,
Thou poor Man's Patron, and Thou good Man's Friend!
In Love of Letters truly Oxford's Heir,
Whose Fame to future Times shall flourish fair,
While Prior's Wit in Poetry shall shine,
And Grabe shall be remember'd a Divine,
The brightest Good still brighter meets our Eyes,
When heighten'd by the Shade of Contraries.
So Cav'ndish, Raleigh, Drake, Iberia's Dread,
Seem yet more glorious when we view S***h**d.
So when we Non-subscribing Bonds-men blame,
E'en Harley rises into greater Fame.
Humble, not base, and stedfast, not severe;
A while with no unwilling Ear attend,
Thou poor Man's Patron, and Thou good Man's Friend!
In Love of Letters truly Oxford's Heir,
Whose Fame to future Times shall flourish fair,
While Prior's Wit in Poetry shall shine,
And Grabe shall be remember'd a Divine,
The brightest Good still brighter meets our Eyes,
When heighten'd by the Shade of Contraries.
174
Seem yet more glorious when we view S***h**d.
So when we Non-subscribing Bonds-men blame,
E'en Harley rises into greater Fame.
First let his Face the paltry Miser show,
Most to himself, tho' much to all a Foe,
Harden'd as Goalers, scorning to relent,
Almost as lying Statesmen impudent.
How truly Wretches they! whom none can move
To follow Duty, Dignity, and Love.
Must they receive? then Precedent is right,
Then nothing juster seems than Perquisite:
Must they disburse? they then desire to stay,
And want an Act of Parliament—to pay:
All Learning and all Reading they abhor,
Save Debtor and per contra Creditor.
Shall Wights like these, forsooth, in Bonds engage,
To cure the vast Profusion of the Age?
No need of Bonds; in what unguarded Mood
Did ever Griper deviate into Good?
If such turn bounteous, as the Vulgar say,
The King shall know it, nay the King shall pay:
I'll stand engag'd the Sum shall ne'er be mist,
Shall prove no Burthen to the Civil-List.
These thwart each great, each chargeable Design.
Hear them thus pleading for their Idol Coin:
I think a free-born Briton should prevent
This Tax, without an Act of Parliament;
Besides, 'tis squandring upon Fools our Store,
For Men of real Wit are never poor;
Not that a Guinea I should grudge or two,
But I must forfeit Hundreds, if I do.
Denial flat might inward Thrift disclose,
But Writings who can blame, or can oppose?
So Shylock old, by Love of Lucre steel'd,
Pleaded the Bond by rash Antonio seal'd;
Nor Pray'rs nor Tears his fix'd Resolve could move,
He had an Oath, a sacred Oath above:
All by-regards he to his Vow postpon'd,
He saw no Dram of Mercy in his Bond.
If once the World a Counter-Bond had sign'd
To treat these cautious Niggards in their Kind,
No Breath 'till Verdict past, they then could draw,
Nor taste one Morsel 'till 'its judg'd by Law.
Such like for like might teach them to recant
To pity, rather than to fall by Want.
Like Shylock trapp'd, no more of Writings fond,
When doom'd to meerly Justice and a Bond.
Most to himself, tho' much to all a Foe,
Harden'd as Goalers, scorning to relent,
Almost as lying Statesmen impudent.
How truly Wretches they! whom none can move
To follow Duty, Dignity, and Love.
Must they receive? then Precedent is right,
Then nothing juster seems than Perquisite:
Must they disburse? they then desire to stay,
And want an Act of Parliament—to pay:
All Learning and all Reading they abhor,
Save Debtor and per contra Creditor.
Shall Wights like these, forsooth, in Bonds engage,
To cure the vast Profusion of the Age?
No need of Bonds; in what unguarded Mood
Did ever Griper deviate into Good?
If such turn bounteous, as the Vulgar say,
The King shall know it, nay the King shall pay:
I'll stand engag'd the Sum shall ne'er be mist,
Shall prove no Burthen to the Civil-List.
These thwart each great, each chargeable Design.
Hear them thus pleading for their Idol Coin:
I think a free-born Briton should prevent
This Tax, without an Act of Parliament;
Besides, 'tis squandring upon Fools our Store,
For Men of real Wit are never poor;
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But I must forfeit Hundreds, if I do.
Denial flat might inward Thrift disclose,
But Writings who can blame, or can oppose?
So Shylock old, by Love of Lucre steel'd,
Pleaded the Bond by rash Antonio seal'd;
Nor Pray'rs nor Tears his fix'd Resolve could move,
He had an Oath, a sacred Oath above:
All by-regards he to his Vow postpon'd,
He saw no Dram of Mercy in his Bond.
If once the World a Counter-Bond had sign'd
To treat these cautious Niggards in their Kind,
No Breath 'till Verdict past, they then could draw,
Nor taste one Morsel 'till 'its judg'd by Law.
Such like for like might teach them to recant
To pity, rather than to fall by Want.
Like Shylock trapp'd, no more of Writings fond,
When doom'd to meerly Justice and a Bond.
But now my Song descend a little lower,
From the poor Hoarder to the Spender poor;
Who ne'er is full, but often overflows,
Who scarce his Rent-Roll or his Income knows,
And minds not how it comes, and marks not when it goes;
A Spirit free, by Rank superior taught
To scorn mechanick Drudgery of Thought;
Subscribing Sums his Silken Purse would drain,
Which scarce his own Expences can maintain.
Perhaps a Debt of Honour must be paid,
Perhaps a fresh Demand was lately made,
For four-legg'd Racer, or for two legg'd Jade.
For Pleasure freely Charges he allows,
But 'tis no Pleasure Learning to espouse;
To call forth Worth which else had never shone,
Unseen and useless as the Mine unknown:
Howe'er his Soul to squander may incline,
Subscription still he waves for want of Coin:
Authors, believe him, tho' he swears 'tis so;
If Gold you look for, to the Steward go.
So when a Peace exhausts the Publick Store,
And our Imperial Diadem is poor,
When needy Swarms for Alms or Pensions call,
'Tis vain, 'tis endless to regard them all:
Odds-fish, quoth merry Charles, no Gold have I!
With more Success, my Friends, if you'd apply,
Neglect the King, and court the Ministry.
From the poor Hoarder to the Spender poor;
Who ne'er is full, but often overflows,
Who scarce his Rent-Roll or his Income knows,
And minds not how it comes, and marks not when it goes;
A Spirit free, by Rank superior taught
To scorn mechanick Drudgery of Thought;
Subscribing Sums his Silken Purse would drain,
Which scarce his own Expences can maintain.
Perhaps a Debt of Honour must be paid,
Perhaps a fresh Demand was lately made,
For four-legg'd Racer, or for two legg'd Jade.
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But 'tis no Pleasure Learning to espouse;
To call forth Worth which else had never shone,
Unseen and useless as the Mine unknown:
Howe'er his Soul to squander may incline,
Subscription still he waves for want of Coin:
Authors, believe him, tho' he swears 'tis so;
If Gold you look for, to the Steward go.
So when a Peace exhausts the Publick Store,
And our Imperial Diadem is poor,
When needy Swarms for Alms or Pensions call,
'Tis vain, 'tis endless to regard them all:
Odds-fish, quoth merry Charles, no Gold have I!
With more Success, my Friends, if you'd apply,
Neglect the King, and court the Ministry.
But why must Bonds be sign'd, to let us know
That Men whose Rents are high, have Pockets low?
Methinks such Obligations they might spare,
But Beggars building Churches will forswear;
Tho' still some Reputation it may bring,
T' appear for once to do a thrifty Thing,
One Instance of their Prudence plain we view,
Witness'd and stamp'd, it therefore must be true.
Since ne'er before they aim'd at seeming Wise,
I'll here dismiss them 'till they seem so twice.
That Men whose Rents are high, have Pockets low?
Methinks such Obligations they might spare,
But Beggars building Churches will forswear;
Tho' still some Reputation it may bring,
T' appear for once to do a thrifty Thing,
One Instance of their Prudence plain we view,
Witness'd and stamp'd, it therefore must be true.
Since ne'er before they aim'd at seeming Wise,
I'll here dismiss them 'till they seem so twice.
The conscious Guilty next Discretion show,
As Foes to Printing, Printing is their Foe;
Who gladly would restrain the wicked Press,
But whom can Caution trust with Licences?
Not that they any mighty Harm can see,
Provided private Characters were free,
In Heresy barefac'd, or shocking Blasphemy.
If saucy Pens the mortal Gods would spare,
Of Heav'n above let Heav'n above take care:
These Dread each flight Remark, each distant Hint,
It looks so like a Truth when 'tis in Print:
Besides, a Secret told to Friends alone,
Thus in an Instant through the World is blown:
For tell-tale Books maliciously display
The Deeds of Darkness in the Noon of Day;
To future Times make Infamy descend,
The base betraying of the trusting Friend;
The black Designs in various Forms pursu'd,
The Whisper treacherous and the Whisper lewd;
The Spite that tries to blast the fairest Bays,
The Envy pois'ning with malignant Praise.
But hold; what Length of Time, or Length of Verse,
The Reasons of their Hatred can rehearse?
Their num'rous Crimes I might recount as well,
Or Tricks of Courts, or Bribes of villains tell,
Or Thousands starving when the South-sea fell.
Whate'er the open, the avow'd Pretence,
These hate all Authors out of Self-defence.
The Case in spite of their Reserve is plain,
For who delights in Works that give him Pain?
As easy might the modish Debauchee
Rejoice in Pills and doat on Mercury:
But Dogs, the Proverb says, by cruel Fate
Hang'd on a Crab-tree, will the Verjuice hate.
So when a busy Wretch avoids Resort,
And changes City Noise for Country Sport;
Whose Honour cannot 'scape Satirick Lays,
Nor whole Revenue buy a Page of Praise,
Each still-born Pamphlet he desires to see,
But always adds, Excepting Poetry.
As Foes to Printing, Printing is their Foe;
Who gladly would restrain the wicked Press,
But whom can Caution trust with Licences?
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Provided private Characters were free,
In Heresy barefac'd, or shocking Blasphemy.
If saucy Pens the mortal Gods would spare,
Of Heav'n above let Heav'n above take care:
These Dread each flight Remark, each distant Hint,
It looks so like a Truth when 'tis in Print:
Besides, a Secret told to Friends alone,
Thus in an Instant through the World is blown:
For tell-tale Books maliciously display
The Deeds of Darkness in the Noon of Day;
To future Times make Infamy descend,
The base betraying of the trusting Friend;
The black Designs in various Forms pursu'd,
The Whisper treacherous and the Whisper lewd;
The Spite that tries to blast the fairest Bays,
The Envy pois'ning with malignant Praise.
But hold; what Length of Time, or Length of Verse,
The Reasons of their Hatred can rehearse?
Their num'rous Crimes I might recount as well,
Or Tricks of Courts, or Bribes of villains tell,
Or Thousands starving when the South-sea fell.
Whate'er the open, the avow'd Pretence,
These hate all Authors out of Self-defence.
The Case in spite of their Reserve is plain,
For who delights in Works that give him Pain?
As easy might the modish Debauchee
Rejoice in Pills and doat on Mercury:
But Dogs, the Proverb says, by cruel Fate
Hang'd on a Crab-tree, will the Verjuice hate.
178
And changes City Noise for Country Sport;
Whose Honour cannot 'scape Satirick Lays,
Nor whole Revenue buy a Page of Praise,
Each still-born Pamphlet he desires to see,
But always adds, Excepting Poetry.
But Authors Their Subscription may ensure,
Who buy up Books by way of Furniture.
No! these impatient of foreseen Delays,
Their instantaneous Libraries must raise:
These heed not Learning, and desire not Wit,
Be the Walls measur'd, and the Pannels fit:
What Class may best the curious Eye amuse,
They leave the wiser Bookseller to chuse:
Secure in him they value not the Charge,
How wide the Margin, and the Print how large.
Their Bulk aloft Gigantick Tatlers show,
Spectators into sixteen Volumes grow.
Tome after Tome, the Titles gilded, stare,
And wire-drawn Congreve's three Octavo's glare:
Ev'n puny Twelves swell to enormous Height,
And Shakespear's monstrous Quarto's glut the Sight.
Like fabled Tityus stretch'd the Poet lies,
Enough to cover Acres with his Size.
But thus no Patronage of Sense is show'd,
They run no smallest Risque of doing Good:
Well pleas'd a T****n should their Bounty feel,
Who not a Groat to needy Wit would deal,
Would slight an Addison, and starve a Steele.
Who buy up Books by way of Furniture.
No! these impatient of foreseen Delays,
Their instantaneous Libraries must raise:
These heed not Learning, and desire not Wit,
Be the Walls measur'd, and the Pannels fit:
What Class may best the curious Eye amuse,
They leave the wiser Bookseller to chuse:
Secure in him they value not the Charge,
How wide the Margin, and the Print how large.
Their Bulk aloft Gigantick Tatlers show,
Spectators into sixteen Volumes grow.
Tome after Tome, the Titles gilded, stare,
And wire-drawn Congreve's three Octavo's glare:
Ev'n puny Twelves swell to enormous Height,
And Shakespear's monstrous Quarto's glut the Sight.
Like fabled Tityus stretch'd the Poet lies,
Enough to cover Acres with his Size.
But thus no Patronage of Sense is show'd,
They run no smallest Risque of doing Good:
Well pleas'd a T****n should their Bounty feel,
Who not a Groat to needy Wit would deal,
Would slight an Addison, and starve a Steele.
The courtly Pratler must not want a Place,
Or the Pedantick Foe to Pedants pass,
Who hold that Scholars must of course be Fools,
And hate all Universities and Schools;
For wise without it, they Instruction slight,
And curse the Vulgar, if they read and write.
Since Writing therefore is so like a Clerk,
They should not sign their Name but set their Mark
To Fame by Not Subscribing they aspire:
What Breast so mean that Glory cannot fire!
And if by this Renown they can obtain,
What Path so mean that will not Glory gain!
Let Others turn their useless Volumes o'er,
With idle Pains and Midnight Study poor;
Let Others tempt their Fate, and rashly dare
The Watches, Marches, Wants, and Wounds of War:
Let others wand'ring traverse Nature round,
These by meer signing are at once renown'd:
Tis glorious to prevent from seeing Light,
The Books which they might spell, but never write:
To pour on witty Want perpetual Scorn,
And murder Authors, who are yet unborn.
Lo, when a Wretch desires a lasting Name,
Inverted Glory and disgraceful Fame,
He bids th' Ephesian Virgin's Temple blaze;
Tis easy to destroy, but hard to raise;
Down sinks the Wealth of Kings, all Asia's Boast,
The Work of Ages in a Night is lost.
Or the Pedantick Foe to Pedants pass,
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And hate all Universities and Schools;
For wise without it, they Instruction slight,
And curse the Vulgar, if they read and write.
Since Writing therefore is so like a Clerk,
They should not sign their Name but set their Mark
To Fame by Not Subscribing they aspire:
What Breast so mean that Glory cannot fire!
And if by this Renown they can obtain,
What Path so mean that will not Glory gain!
Let Others turn their useless Volumes o'er,
With idle Pains and Midnight Study poor;
Let Others tempt their Fate, and rashly dare
The Watches, Marches, Wants, and Wounds of War:
Let others wand'ring traverse Nature round,
These by meer signing are at once renown'd:
Tis glorious to prevent from seeing Light,
The Books which they might spell, but never write:
To pour on witty Want perpetual Scorn,
And murder Authors, who are yet unborn.
Lo, when a Wretch desires a lasting Name,
Inverted Glory and disgraceful Fame,
He bids th' Ephesian Virgin's Temple blaze;
Tis easy to destroy, but hard to raise;
Down sinks the Wealth of Kings, all Asia's Boast,
The Work of Ages in a Night is lost.
The gentle Beau of spite I must acquit,
His Heart of Malice void, as Head of Wit.
But one or two of real Worth have Sign'd,
And Precedent quite sways his little Mind.
Perhaps he joins the Bond, from Meaning free,
Meerly because he likes the Company;
To show his Ring so fine, or Hand so white,
Or prove how like a Scholar he can write;
Or for a Jest sets down his Name beneath,
And laughs to show his Humour and his Teeth:
But thinks not friendless Worth for this may sigh,
And that 'tis hard to laugh, while others cry.
So Boys unlucky near a River's Side,
Throw Stones at Frogs that o'er the Surface glide,
'Till thus a Moral Frog is heard to say,
And gravely reprimand their cruel Play;
Children forbear, nor hurt the Guiltless thus;
To You 'tis Pastime, but 'tis Death to Us.
His Heart of Malice void, as Head of Wit.
But one or two of real Worth have Sign'd,
And Precedent quite sways his little Mind.
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Meerly because he likes the Company;
To show his Ring so fine, or Hand so white,
Or prove how like a Scholar he can write;
Or for a Jest sets down his Name beneath,
And laughs to show his Humour and his Teeth:
But thinks not friendless Worth for this may sigh,
And that 'tis hard to laugh, while others cry.
So Boys unlucky near a River's Side,
Throw Stones at Frogs that o'er the Surface glide,
'Till thus a Moral Frog is heard to say,
And gravely reprimand their cruel Play;
Children forbear, nor hurt the Guiltless thus;
To You 'tis Pastime, but 'tis Death to Us.
If gen'ral Ground these paltry Bonds had gain'd,
What Loss the World of Learning had sustain'd!
What Studies then had sunk in endless Night!
Mattaire's long Labours ne'er had rose to sight,
Oblivion's Veil might Chishull's Travels hide,
And even Asia's Ruins might have dy'd.
Had thus our Fathers thought, Mankind had lost
A Work as noble as the Realm can boast;
When Loyalists by Cromwell's bloody Hand
Proscrib'd, sequester'd, decimated stand;
Th' Heroick Suff'rers dauntless Courage show'd,
Printed the Sacred Oracles of God;
Preserv'd the Streams which from that Fountain run,
Pure from the rising to the setting Sun:
A Labour Europe emulates in vain,
Which Lewis saw not in his pompous Reign,
Nor Ximenes with all the Wealth of Spain.
By kind Subscription help'd, it rose secure,
Long, as the World 'twas made for, to endure.
What Loss the World of Learning had sustain'd!
What Studies then had sunk in endless Night!
Mattaire's long Labours ne'er had rose to sight,
Oblivion's Veil might Chishull's Travels hide,
And even Asia's Ruins might have dy'd.
Had thus our Fathers thought, Mankind had lost
A Work as noble as the Realm can boast;
When Loyalists by Cromwell's bloody Hand
Proscrib'd, sequester'd, decimated stand;
Th' Heroick Suff'rers dauntless Courage show'd,
Printed the Sacred Oracles of God;
Preserv'd the Streams which from that Fountain run,
Pure from the rising to the setting Sun:
A Labour Europe emulates in vain,
Which Lewis saw not in his pompous Reign,
Nor Ximenes with all the Wealth of Spain.
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Long, as the World 'twas made for, to endure.
But lest like that mad Judge we should decide,
Who hang'd the Culprit first, and after try'd,
In even Balance be their Reasons weigh'd;
Subscriptions are of late become a Trade.”
Must we for this our Bounty disavow?
And must all Trading be discourag'd now?
Who hang'd the Culprit first, and after try'd,
In even Balance be their Reasons weigh'd;
Subscriptions are of late become a Trade.”
Must we for this our Bounty disavow?
And must all Trading be discourag'd now?
The best are oft attended with Delay.”
Sometimes the Work the Waiting will repay;
Sometimes 'tis caus'd by want of Friends alone,
Sometimes the Work the Waiting will repay;
Sometimes 'tis caus'd by want of Friends alone,
Fault indeed there is, but is your own.
Some promise what ne'er was, and ne'er will be,
Without the Tongues all Sciences they see,
And read Sir Isaac without Geometry.
But if you credit broad apparent Lies,
Name not the Object, but condemn your Eyes.
“You fear lest Catalogues in proud Array
“Your Rank should blazon, and your Wealth display.
None worth Regard will print without Consent;
Yet this no mortal Prudence can prevent,
If scrubby penceless Rascals, dull and stout,
With Heads of Lead within, and Brass without,
Can fill a List, to serve their shameless Ends,
With Men ne'er spoke to by themselves or Friends,
Then Second Payments ask; in vain you stare,
Since tho' you pay not, still your Name is there.
“Some gravely promise what they ne'er intend,
“While others Party-Rage and Vice defend:
“Shall Madmen's Blasphemies my Gold command,
“Or Hurlothrumbo wrest it from my Hand?
“Or Slander false, or Treason mean and base?
“Or Reams of Chit-Chat 'gainst the Stuart's Race?”
No! let such Wretches meet your Scorn or Hate;
Let Newgate or let Bedlam be their Fate.
But sure an equal Medium may be shown,
Nor need we give to all, or give to none.
Tho' righteous Bonds-men no Distinction make,
But strike the Guiltless for the Guilty's sake;
Justice not Mercy is their Burden still,
Justice, that starves the Good to mend the Ill.
For fear of Folly they from kindness run,
A Crime far greater than the Fault they shun.
So a consummate Knave in Others' Eyes,
In Self-Opinion politick and wise,
On his whole Species lets his Censure fall,
And all are false alike and Villains all.
Through Fear of Trusting, by Distrust deceiv'd,
As none believing, so of none believ'd.
Some promise what ne'er was, and ne'er will be,
Without the Tongues all Sciences they see,
And read Sir Isaac without Geometry.
But if you credit broad apparent Lies,
Name not the Object, but condemn your Eyes.
“You fear lest Catalogues in proud Array
“Your Rank should blazon, and your Wealth display.
None worth Regard will print without Consent;
Yet this no mortal Prudence can prevent,
If scrubby penceless Rascals, dull and stout,
With Heads of Lead within, and Brass without,
Can fill a List, to serve their shameless Ends,
With Men ne'er spoke to by themselves or Friends,
Then Second Payments ask; in vain you stare,
Since tho' you pay not, still your Name is there.
“Some gravely promise what they ne'er intend,
“While others Party-Rage and Vice defend:
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“Or Hurlothrumbo wrest it from my Hand?
“Or Slander false, or Treason mean and base?
“Or Reams of Chit-Chat 'gainst the Stuart's Race?”
No! let such Wretches meet your Scorn or Hate;
Let Newgate or let Bedlam be their Fate.
But sure an equal Medium may be shown,
Nor need we give to all, or give to none.
Tho' righteous Bonds-men no Distinction make,
But strike the Guiltless for the Guilty's sake;
Justice not Mercy is their Burden still,
Justice, that starves the Good to mend the Ill.
For fear of Folly they from kindness run,
A Crime far greater than the Fault they shun.
So a consummate Knave in Others' Eyes,
In Self-Opinion politick and wise,
On his whole Species lets his Censure fall,
And all are false alike and Villains all.
Through Fear of Trusting, by Distrust deceiv'd,
As none believing, so of none believ'd.
But grant their light Excuses heavy weigh,
Grant more than they have Front or Wit to say;
Alike in all things is their Conduct shown?
Or is their Thrift confin'd to this alone?
Have they e'er squander'd Heaps of precious Ore
To tempt Italian Sing-Song to our Shore?
While tuneful Tofts to Rome from Britain flies,
And Croft there honour'd, here neglected dies?
Have they e'er wasted idle Sums of Gold,
The Craft of sage Free-masons to uphold?
No matter whether Arts and Letters live,
If Gloves they buy and Aprons they can give:
No printed Volume they desire to see,
But the Grand History of Masonry.
Why must Subscription all their Fury bear?
Should nothing else their strong Abhorrence share?
Is this the One thing needful to their Care?
Let them a little cast their Eyes around;
Is nothing else within Great-Britain found,
That loudly calls for and demands a Bond?
Have they engag'd bright Honour to pursue?
Bravely to speak, and gallantly to do?
To make their Grandeur to their Conscience bend,
To fear no Threatning, and to slight no Friend?
To let no Dunghill Filth their Bosom share,
The Scoundrel Sharper, or the Strumpet Play'r?
Firmly their Country's Int'rest to promote;
To buy no Suffrage, and to sell no Vote?
To bid in Judgment naked Right prevail,
Nor Grudge nor Favour sink the mounting Scale?
Have they engag'd to throw a Die no more?
To send no Tradesman weeping from their Door?
Or enter'd into Bonds against a Whore?
Have they, with gen'rous Indignation fir'd,
For Truth, for Justice, and for Faith conspir'd?
When once all Vice all Baseness is forsworn,
Why then let poor Subscription take its Turn.
Grant more than they have Front or Wit to say;
Alike in all things is their Conduct shown?
Or is their Thrift confin'd to this alone?
Have they e'er squander'd Heaps of precious Ore
To tempt Italian Sing-Song to our Shore?
While tuneful Tofts to Rome from Britain flies,
And Croft there honour'd, here neglected dies?
Have they e'er wasted idle Sums of Gold,
The Craft of sage Free-masons to uphold?
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If Gloves they buy and Aprons they can give:
No printed Volume they desire to see,
But the Grand History of Masonry.
Why must Subscription all their Fury bear?
Should nothing else their strong Abhorrence share?
Is this the One thing needful to their Care?
Let them a little cast their Eyes around;
Is nothing else within Great-Britain found,
That loudly calls for and demands a Bond?
Have they engag'd bright Honour to pursue?
Bravely to speak, and gallantly to do?
To make their Grandeur to their Conscience bend,
To fear no Threatning, and to slight no Friend?
To let no Dunghill Filth their Bosom share,
The Scoundrel Sharper, or the Strumpet Play'r?
Firmly their Country's Int'rest to promote;
To buy no Suffrage, and to sell no Vote?
To bid in Judgment naked Right prevail,
Nor Grudge nor Favour sink the mounting Scale?
Have they engag'd to throw a Die no more?
To send no Tradesman weeping from their Door?
Or enter'd into Bonds against a Whore?
Have they, with gen'rous Indignation fir'd,
For Truth, for Justice, and for Faith conspir'd?
When once all Vice all Baseness is forsworn,
Why then let poor Subscription take its Turn.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |