B. And what? no monument, infcription, stone ? His race, his form, his name almost unknown?

P. Who builds a Church to God, and not to Fame, Will never mark the marble with his Name: 286 Go, fearch it there, where to be born and die, Of rich and poor makes all the history; Enough, that Virtue fill'd the space between ; Prov'd, by the ends of being, to have been. 290 When Hopkins dies, a thoufand lights attend' The wretch, who living fav'd a candle's end: Should'ring God's altar a vile image ftands, Belies his features, nay extends his hands;

fuppofed but for being outfined in their own proper pretenfions to Splendor and Magnificence.

VER. 287. Go, fearch it there,] The parish-regifter.

VER. 293. Shouldring God's altar a vile image ftands, Belies bis features, nay extends his hands;] The defcription is inimitable. We see him should' ring the altar like one who impiously affected to draw off the reverence of God's worshipers, from the facred table, upon himself; whofe Features too the sculptor bad belied by giving them the traces of humanity: And, what was still a more impudent flattery, had infinuated, by extending bis bands, as if that humanity had been, fome time or other, put into act.

VARIATIONS.

VER. 287. thus in the MS.

The Regifter inrolls him with his Poor,

Tells he was born, and dy'd, and tells no more.
Juft as he ought, he fill'd the Space between ;

Then Acle to reft, unheeded and unfeen.

That live-long wig which Gorgon's felf might own, Eternal buckle takes in Parian ftone. 296

Behold what bleffings Wealth to life can lend!
And fee, what comfort it affords our end.

In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung,
The floors of plaifter, and the walls of dung, 300
On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw,
With tape-ty'd curtains, never meant to draw,
The George and Garter dangling from that bed
Where tawdry yellow ftrove with dirty red,
Great Villers lies---alas! how chang'd from him,
That life of pleasure, and that foul of whim! 306.
Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove,

The bow'r of wanton Shrewsbury and love;

VER. 296. Eternal buckle takes in Parian ftone.] The poet ridicules the wretched taste of carving large perriwigs on bufto's, of which there are several vile examples in the tombs at Westminster, and elsewhere.

VER. 305. Great Villers lies-] This Lord, yet more famous for his vices than his misfortunes, having been poffeffed of about 50,000l. a year, and paffed through many of the highest posts in the kingdom, died in the year 1687, in a remote inn in Yorkshire, reduced to the utmost misery.

VER. 307. Cliveden] A delightful palace, on the banks of the Thames, built by the D. of Buckingham.

VER. 308. Shrewsbury] The Countess of Shrewsbury, a woman abandoned to gallantries. The Earl her husband was killed by the Duke of Buckingham in a duel; and it has been faid, that during the combat fhe held the Duke's horfes in the habit of a page.

Or juft as gay, at Council, in a ring

Of mimick'd Statesmen, and their merry King. 310
No Wit to flatter, left of all his ftore!

No Fool to laugh at, which he valu'd more.
There, Victor of his health, of fortune, friends,
And fame; this lord of useless thousands ends.

His Grace's fate fage Cutler could foresee, 315 And well (he thought) advis'd him, "Live like "me."

320

As well his Grace reply'd, "Like you, Sir John?
"That I can do, when all I have is gone."
Refolve me, Reason, which of these is worse,
Want with a full, or with an empty purse?
Thy life more wretched, Cutler, was confefs'd,
Arife, and tell me, was thy death more bless'd?
Cutler faw tenants break, and houfes fall,
For very want; he could not build a wall.
His only daughter in a ftranger's pow'r,
For very want; he could not pay a dow'r.

325

VER. 312. No Fool to laugh at, which he valu'd more.] That is, he liked difguifed flattery better than the more direct and avowed. And no wonder a man of wit fhould have this taste. For the taking pleasure in fools, for the fake of laughing at them, is nothing elfe but the complaifance of flattering ourselves, by an advantageous comparison, which the mind makes between itself and the object laughed at. Hence too we may the Reafon of mens preferring this to other kinds of flattery. For we are always inclined to think that work beft done which' we do ourselves.

fee

A few

grey hairs his rev'rend temples crown'd, 'Twas very want that fold them for two pound. What ev'n deny'd a cordial at his end,

Banish'd the doctor, and expell'd the friend?

330

What but a want, which you perhaps think mad,
Yet numbers feel, the want of what he had!
Cutler and Brutus, dying both exclaim,
"Virtue! and Wealth! what are ye but a name!"

336

Say, for fuch worth are other worlds pepar'd?
Or are they both, in this their own reward?
A knotty point! to which we now proceed.
But you are tir'd—I'll tell a tale-B. Agreed.

P. Where London's column, pointing at the skies
Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lyes;
There dwelt a Citizen of fober fame,

340

A plain good man, and Balaam was his name;
Religious, punctual, frugal, and fo forth;
His word would pafs for more than he was worth.
One folid difh his week-day meal affords,

345

An added pudding folemniz'd the Lord's:

VER. 339. Where London's column,] The Monument, built in the memory of the fire of London, with an infcription, importing that city to have been burnt by the Papists.

VARIATIONS.

VER. 337. in the former Editions,

That knotty point, my Lord, fhall I difcufs,
Or tell a tale?A Tale.-It follows thus,

Conftant at Church, and Change; his gains were fure, His givings rare, fave farthings to the poor.

The Dev'l was piqu'd fuch faintship to behold, And long'd to tempt him like good Job of old : 350 But Satan now is wiser than of yore,

And tempts by making rich, not making poor.

Rouz'd by the Prince of Air, the whirlwinds fweep The furge, and plunge his Father in the deep; Then full against his Cornish lands they roar, 355 And two rich ship-wrecks bless the lucky fhore.

Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks, He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes: "Live like yourself," was foon my Lady's word; And lo! two puddings fmoak'd upon the board. 360 Afleep and naked as an Indian lay,

An honeft factor ftole a Gem away:

He pledg'd it to the knight; the knight had wit,
So kept the Di'mond, and the rogue was bit.
Some scruple rofe, but thus he eas'd his thought,
"I'll now give fix-pence where I gave a groat; 366

VER. 355. Cornish] The author has placed the scene of thefe fhipwrecks in Cornwall, not only from their frequency on that coast, but from the inhumanity of the inhabitants to thofe to whom that misfortune arrives: When a fhip happens to be ftranded there, they have been known to bore holes in it, to prevent its getting off; to plunder, and sometimes even to malfacre the people: Nor has the Parliament of England been yet able wholly to fuppress these barbarities.