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SON

OME good whigs late defign'd by an act meritorious To fet up a ftatue of king WILLIAM the glorious: An equestrian statue, that this heroe might ride,

Where the conduit once run at the end of CHEAP-SIDE.
The council of commons, compos'd most of ungodly,
Were addreft with petition, but rejected it oddly:
For above three to one of thefe cits being mufty,

*

Nought but no's could be heard from their voices fo rufty.' No reafon has giv'n: but I've heard of a story; Which united perhaps votes of whig and of tory, An old lame fanatic by a friend had been told, Of a well mounted ftatue, a pen'worth to be fold; That was made for king JAMES, and was curiously wrought, On which rose in his head this ingenious thought. This fine ftatue, he cries, is as good as

new one:

All our friends will fubfcribe for't, as if 'twere a true one. • To imitate the act which our fathers have done, 'We'll cut of in effigie the head of the fon:

A dry martyrdom this will resemble the wet: 'On the shoulders the head of our + faviour we'll fet. 'Thus we well shall deceive both our friends and our foes: These will laugh at the B---ch, while thofe rev'rence the N----e.

* See FREE BRITON Numb, CI. pag. 4. col. 1. † See pag. 2. col. 1. and pag. 3. col. 2.

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Grubstreet Journal, No 98.

The MODERN POETS.

A SATIRE in Allufion to the 10th SATIRE of the FIRST BOOK of HORACE. By a young GENTLEMAN of CAMBRIDGE.

HAT BAYS to farce, fir, turns his tragic strain,
And eafy CONGREVE imitates in vain ;

"TH

That nonfenfe oft he writes; then fays 'tis new,
Muft fure be own'd by his admiring few.
For what fond patron can his CAESAR praise,
His NEW-YEAR'S-ODES approve, or paft'ral lays?
But, with his faults, fome praises he must share,
When the gay ToWNLY charms the liftning fair.
That he's incomparable, yet muft we own,
Because he chanc'd to please the fickle town?
Then fidling J----might fome inerit claim,
And HUNCAMUNCA rival him in fame.

'Tis not enough, to gain a wild applaufe, When crowded theatres efpoufe your cauf.

* Nempe incompofito dixi pede currere verfus Lucili. Quis tan lucili autor inepte eft,

Ut non hoc fateatur? At idem, quod fale multo
Urbem defricuit, charta laudatur eadem.

'Tis

Nec tamen hoc tribuens dederim quoque cætera : nam fic Et laberi mimos, ut pulchra poemata, mirer. + Ergo non fatis elt rifu diducere ri&tum

Auditois.

Eft brevitate opus, ut currat fententia, neu se
Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures.

Tis not enough, to make an audience smile ;
But write a strong, correct, yet eafy ftile.
No balmy flumbers fhou'd defcribe a fear;
Nor dull deferiptions load the wearied ear.
*But aim to foar in SHAKESPEAR's lofty straint
Or nature draw in JOHNSON's merry vein.
To F-----names unknown---to him have come

The fame of HICKATHRIFT, and brave Toм THUMB: The brave Toм THUMB does all his thoughts engage: See! with what noble port, what tragic rage,

His lilliputian hero treads the ftage.

How nice the judgment, and the toil how great,
To make our nervous language foft and fweet:
From WALLER and from DRYDEN phrafes chufe,
To fmooth the roughness of your highland muse.
Thus the fkill'd tapfter to the harsher stale,
To please the palate, adds the milder ale.

While BAYS makes CAESAR's name ftill more ab-
horr'd,

And murders CAESAR Worfe than BRUTUS fword;
While SOPHONISBA dies by freedom fir'd,

And mild TIMOLEON rants like W- infpir'd ;
While OXFORD jokes are hifs'd in DRURY-LANE,
My inufe can't well forbear the fneering ftrain,

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See T--- leaves the Lawyers gainful train, To wrack with poetry his tortur'd brain :

N 2

Fir'd,

*Illi, fcripta quibus comoedia prifca viris eft,'
Hoc ftabant, hoc funt imitandi: quos neque pulcher
Hermogenes unquam legit, neque fimius ifte
Nil præter calvum & doctus cantare catullum.
At magnum fecit, quod verbis græca latinis
Miscuit. O feri ftudiorum ! quine putetis
Difficile & mirum rhodio quod pitholeonti
Contigit. At fermo lingua concinnus utraque
Suavior, ut chio nota fi commistra falerni eft.

Turgidus alpinus jugulat dum memnona, dumque,

Diffingit rheni luteum caput; hæc ego ludo,

Fir'd, or not fir'd, to write refolves with rage,

And conftant pores o'er SHAKESPEAR's facred page.
-----Then starting cries -- I fomething will be thought:
I'll write---then---boldly swears 'twas SHAKESPEAR wrote.
Strange! he in poetry no forgery fears,

That knows fo well in law, he'd lofe his ears.

* Let fuch as SWIFT with ftupid folly rail.
Who dull can read unmov'd his comic tale?
All that have tafte will deep attention lend,

To that which CARTERET and which POPE commend.
Yet for unftudied humour GAY fhall please,
Who on the barren'st subject writes with ease.

The theatre his juft applaufes rings

When fenfe with manly voice his MACKHEATH fings.
Then SENESINO warbles but in vain;

And foft CUTZONA yields to POLLY's ftrain.

His art of walking wrote in hum'rous verfe

Whilft to themselves the lawyer's clerks rehearse,
Pleas'd, they no longer curfe the dirty street,
Forget their weary fteps, and aching feet.

+ Good-natur'd YOUNG, well-learned and well-bred, Studies to lay prevailing folly dead.

How gently he the well-turn'd fatire deals,

Smiles while he ftrikes, and while he wounds he heals!
M-----too will fatires write, tho' nothing mean,
But on each finger measures out his fpleen:
Sounds ev'ry fyllable, each word he chimes,
And tortures his dull brain for uncouth rhimes.
SOUTHERN alone can raife our anxious care,
In theatres can move the BRITISH fair,
Swell the deep figh, and draw the falling tear.

But

*

Arguta meretrice potes, davoque chremeta
Eludente fenem, comis garrire libellos,
Unus vivorum, Fundani.

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Pollio regnum

Facta canit, pede ter percuffo: for te epos acer,
Ut nemo, varius ducit.-

But who like POPE the pow'r of numbers knows?
Now in loofe, eafy couplets fweet he flows.
If lawns or fhadowy woods he makes his theme,
Or if he paint the filent THAMES'S ftream,
Your fenfes all are ravish'd with delight,.
And every object's plac'd before your fight..
But if he makes the bluftring north-wind roar,
Or rolling furges lafh the founding fhore;
The ftrong defcription with fuch art is wrought,
With dread you'll read, and fhudder at the thought.
Nor fhall I dare, (fo well deferv'd his fame)
To caft the leaft reflection on his name.

BAYS ftill writes on, and cries he'll mind no rules;
The antients blockheads were, the moderns fools:
Then names all thofe that once the laurel wore,
And swears, that none deferv'd it well before.
I don't deny but his great genius may,
Within fix fortnights blunder out a play;
But if in this he wholly founds his fame,
His rivals foon may boaft an equal claim:
Each fing-fong writer vers'd in CRAMBO's laws,
MOMUS, ORESTES might expect applaufe:
With pride each author might his works furvey,
And boaft his embrio offspring of a day.

N 2

Would

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Virgilio annuerunt gaudentes rure camœnæ.
Hoc erat, experto fruftra varrone atacino,

Atque quibufdam aliis, melius quod fcribere poffem,
Inventore minor. Neque ego illi detrahere aufim,
Hærentem capiti multa cum laude coronam.

------- Age, quæfo,

Tu nihil in magno doctus reprendis homero?
Nil comis tragici mutat lucilius atii ?
Non ridet verfus enni gravitate minores,
Cum de fe loquitur, non ut majore reprenfis?
Hoc tantum contentus amet fcripfiffe ducentos
Ante cibum verfus, & totidem conatus..

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