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A leaf like Sybil's, scatter to and fro
Our fates and fortunes, as the wind shall blow ,
Pregnant with thousands flits the scrap unseen,
And silent sells a king or buys a queen.

Oh! that such bulky bribes as all might see,
Still, as of old, encumber'd villany!

50 Could France or Rome divert our brave designs, With all their brandies or with all their wines? What could they more than knights and 'squires con•

found, Or water all the quorum ten miles round? A statesman's slumbers how this speech would spoil! 'Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oil; Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door; A hundred oxen at your levee roar.'

Poor avarice one torment more would find; Nor could profusion squander all in kind.

CO Astride his cheese Sir Morgan might we meet, And Worldly crying coals from street to street, Whom with a wig so wild and mien so mazed, Pity mistakes for some poor tradesman crazed. Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and hogs, Could he himself have sent it to the dogs ? His grace will game: to White's a bull be led, With spurning heels and with a butting head: To White's be carried, as to ancient games, Fair coursers, vases, and alluring dames.

70 Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep, Bear home six whores, and make his lady wcep? Or soft Adonis, so perfumed and fine, Drive to St. James's a whole herd of swine ? O filthy check on all industrious skill, To spoil the nation's last great trade, quadrillo! Since then, ny lord, on such a world we fall, What say you? B. Say? Why, take it, gold and all.

P. What riches gives us, let us then inquire : Mcat, fire, and clothes. B. What more? P Meata clothes, and fire.


Is this too little ? would you more than live?
Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds they give.
Alas! 'tis more than (all his visions pass’d)
Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at last!
What can they give? To dying Hopkins heirs ?
To Chartres vigour ? Japhet nose and ears ?
Can they in gems bid pallid Hippia glow?
In Fulvia's buckle ease the throbs beow?
Or heal, old Narses, thy obscener ail,
With all the embroidery plaster'd at thy tail ? 90
They might (were Harpax not too wise to spend)
Give Harpax' self the blessing of a friend;
Or find some doctor that would save the life
Of wretched Shylock, spite of Shylock's wife.
But thousands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a college or a cat.
To some, indeed, Heaven grants the happier fate,
To enrich a bastard, or a son they hate.

Perhaps you think the poor might have their part; Bond damns the poor, and hates them from his heart : The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule,

101 That every man in want is knave or fool : "God cannot love,' says Blunt, with tearless eyes, 'Thc wretch he starves'-and piously denies : But the good Bishop, with a meeker air, Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care.

Yet, to be just to these poor men of pelf, Each does but hate his neighbour as himself: Damn'd to the mines, an equal fate betides The slave that digs it, and the slave that hides. 110

B. Who suffer thus, mere charity should own, Must act on motives powerful, though unknown.

P. Some war, some plague, or famine, they foresce, Some revelation hid from you and me. Why Shylock wants a meal, the cause is found; He thinks a loaf will rise to fifty pound. What made directors cheat in South-sea year? To live on venison when it soll so dear.

Ask you why Phryne the whole auction buys?
Phryne foresees a general excise.

120 Why she and Sappho raise that monstrous sum ? Alas! they think a man will cost a plum.

Wise Peter sees the world's respect for gold,
And therefore hopes this nation may be sold :
Glorious ambition! Peter, swell thy store,
And be what Rome's great Didius was before

The crown of Poland, venal twice an age,
To just three millions stinted modest Gago.
But nobler scenes Maria's dreams unfold,
Hereditary realms, and worlds of gold.

130 Congenial souls ; whose life one avarice joins, And one fate buries in the Asturian mines.

Much-injured Blunt! why bears he Britain's hate ? A wizard told him in these words our fate :

* At length corruption, like a general flood (So long by watchful ministers withstood,) Shall deluge all; and avarice creeping on, Spread like a low-born mist, and blot the sun; Statesman and patriot ply alike the stocks, Peeress and butler share alike the box,

140 And judges job, and bishops bite the town, And mighty dukes pack cards for half-a-crown. See Britain sunk in lucre's sordid charms, And France revenged of Anne's and Edward's arms!' 'Twas no court-badge, great scrivener! fired thy brain, Nor lordly luxury, nor city gain : No, 'twas thy righteous end, ashamed to see Senates degenerate, patriots disagree, And nobly wishing party-rage to cease, To buy both sides, and give thy country peace

150 • All this is madness,' cries a sober sage: But who, my friend, has reason in his rage? The ruling passion, be it what it will, The ruling passion, conquers reason still.' Less mad the wildest whimsey we can frame, Than er'n that passion, if it has no aim :

For though such motives folly you may call,
The folly's greater to have none at all.

Hear then the truth: 'Tis Heaven each passion sends
And different men directs to different ends. 160
Extremes in nature equal good produce,
Extremes in man concur to general use.
Ask we what makes one keep, and one bestow?
That Power who bids the ocean ebb and flow;
Bids seed-time, harvest, equal course maintain,
Through reconciled extremes of drought and rain:
Builds life on death, on change duration founds,
And gives the eternal wheels to know their rounds

Riches, like insects, when conceal'd they lie, Wait but for wings, and in their season fly. 170 Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store, Sees but a backward steward for the poor; This year a reservoir to keep and spare, The next a fountain, spouting through his heir, In lavish streams to quench a country's thirst, And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.

Old Cotta shamed his fortune and his birth, Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth: What though, (the use of barbarous spits forgot,) His kitchen vied in coolness with his grot? 180 His court with nettles, moats with cresses stored, With soups unbought and salads bless'd his board ? If Cotta lived on pulse, it was no more Than Bramins, saints, and sages did before : To cram the rich was prodigal expense, And who would take the poor from Prov. dence ? Like some lone Chartreux stands the good old hall, Silence without, and fasts within the wall; No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabour sound, No noontide bell invites the country round: 190 Tenants with sighs the smokeless towers survey, And turn their unwilling steeds another way: Benighted wanderers, the forest o'er, Curse the saved candle and unopening door ;

While the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate,
Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat.

Not so his son : he mark'd this oversight,
And then mistook reverse of wrong for right:
(For what to shun, will no great knowledge need;
But what to follow, is a task indeed.)

200 Yet sure, of qualities deserving praise, More go to ruin fortunes, than to raise. What slaughter'd hecatombs, what floods of wing, Fill the capacious 'squire, and deep divine ! Yet no mean motive this profusion draws, His oxen perish in his country's cause; 'Tis George and liberty that crowns the cup, And zeal for that great house which eats him up. The woods recede around the naked seat, The Sylvans groan—no matter--for the fleet: 210 Next goes his wool-to clothe our valiant bands : Last, for his country's love, he sells his lands. To town he comes, completes the nation's hope, And heads the bold train-bands, and burns a pope; And shall not Britain now reward his toils, Britain, that pays her patriots with her spoils ? In vain at court the bankrupt pleads his cause; His thankless country leaves him to her laws.

The sense to value riches, with the art To enjoy them, and the virtue to impart, 220 Not meanly, nor ambitiously pursued, Not sunk by sloth, nor raised by servitude; To balance fortune by a just expense, Join with economy, magnificence; With splendour charity, with plenty health ; O teach us, Bathurst ! yet unspoil'd by wealth! That secret rare, between the extremes to move Of mad good-nature, and of mean self-love.

B. To worth or want well-weigh’d, be bounty given, And ease or emulate the care of Heaven; 236 (Whose measure full o'erflows on human race ;) Mend fortune's fault and justify her grace.

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