Modern Virtue. a Satire

" LET venal annals boast a Caesar's reign, " When Rome's great genius hugg'd th' imperial chain, " Freedom, gay Goddess, glads our happier isle, " Peace smooths her brow, as Plenty decks her smile; " In every son th' inspirer lives confess'd, " And lights up all the patriot in his breast, " Breathes the same social warmth from soul to soul, " Till widening Nature pants but for a whole.

" Shines he in life's meridian beam display'd, " Or gives his milder virtues to the shade; " Glares the proud ribbon, nods the martial crest, " Or flaunt the tatters on his motly vest; " The godlike Briton fills his every sphere " Without a frailty, and without a fear. " If rich: Bright image of the Eternal Mind, " His opening bosom takes in all mankind; " Where'er he comes, Health triumphs o'er Disease, " Hope glads Despair, and Anguish melts to ease. " Is Knowledge his? He lends his every art, " To rear the genius, and to mould the heart; " Fondly pursues with Boyle's auspicious blaze " Truth thro' her masques, and Nature thro' her maze; " To heedless Justice gives the well-poiz'd scale, " And raises Commerce as he guides the sail. " Is power his orb? He lives but to defend; " The statesman only dignifies the friend: " Disarms Oppression, prunes Ambition's wing, " And stifles Faction ere she darts her sting; " Enriches every coffer but his own, " And shields the cottage while he guards the throne; " Sees at his nod our plunder'd rights restor'd, " And Europe trembling when he grasps the sword."

Thus sung the Muse when Fancy vigorous ran, And warm'd the youth, ere Reason form'd the man; Life thro' Opinion's false perspective seen, With mimic beauty glow'd in every scene; Dress'd in an angel's visionary form, Vice aim'd to please, and Madness learn'd to charm: Rebellion soften'd into public love, And each enormous villain seem'd a Jove. Doubly deceiv'd, what Lelius could I find To chase the phantoms, or to free the mind? No Lelius came, no Seraph lent his aid, No pitying Genius whisper'd in the glade.

It chanc'd that Virtue heard th' untutor'd lays, Still madly lisping with the voice of praise; She heard, as thro' the mall the Goddess stray'd, When the gay world had peopled all the shade, Mild as the softness of a vernal sky, Youth flush'd her cheek, while caution arm'd her eye; Half loose majestic flow'd her azure vest, A spotless ruby bled upon her breast, At every step kind Nature felt her power, Soft blew the zephyr, and soft sprung the flower; A brighter freshness hung on every green, And a new Eden stole upon the scene,

Awhile she paus'd, and with a frown survey'd The mingling swarm of tatters and brocade. When, as the Goddess wav'd th' ethereal spear, Pride dropt her smile, and Artifice her tear; Lust threw aside Religion's borrow'd grace, A leering Satyr gloated in her face; The prude, who fainted at the name of vice, Now hugg'd the bottle, and now grasp'd the dice; While tortur'd with the town's obscener ail, A Saint stood melting o'er a luscious tale. Here, the bribe glitter'd in a Courtier's hand; There, the grave Patriot bellow'd—for a wand: Full in his eye th' enchanting object hung, And dying Freedom gasp'd upon his tongue. All who to Drury's deadly stews resort, Rob at the Change, or plunder in the Court, Stripp'd of their masques in wild disorder rose, One with a halter, one without a nose; So oddly mix'd, so excellently ill, Such motly spectres of Quevedo's hell; They'd make a Jesuit quit the absolving chair, A brothel tremble, and a conclave stare.

So when, where Bedlam's air-dress'd visions dwell, Tom stalks a straw-crown'd monarch in his cell; Just as he soars tremendous to a God, And the wing'd thunder only waits his nod; Shudd'ring, he hears his keeper's surly tone, He hears, and horror wraps his tott'ring throne; Crowns drop their lustre, scepters lose their awe, Robes fly to rags, and empires sink to straw.

" Learn hence, fair Virtue cry'd, mistaken youth, " What various monsters wear the guise of Truth. " Deck'd with each grace, immortal Merit shews " The cheek that reddens, and the soul that glows; " With heaven's own image beaming in his eye, " Man smiles a dagger, and he looks a lie." She spoke, and lo! the long-misguided fire, With every number, slept along the lyre.

Say then, my friend! whose virtues are my pride, Whose candour soothes me, while thy precepts guide; Thou whose quick eye has look'd thro' every age, View'd every scene, and studied every sage; Say, shall I praise th' escutcheon's proud record, When a lost Brutus sinks into a lord? With fulsome sing-song after shadows run, And still mistake a meteor for a sun? Shall I be silent, while from day to day Bellville in bagnios revels life away; Flagitious drops the majesty of power In the mad mischiefs of the midnight hour; No flatterer left to daub, no friend to aid, By strumpets plunder'd, and by wits betray'd?

Rous'd at the thought, keen Satire spurns her chain, Springs with new life, and pants in every vein, On vice, impatient, wreaks her gathering rage, And bids the tyrant bleed thro' all the page. Broods she in purple o'er the venal bar, Struts in a gown, or blazes in a star? My pen shall trace her out from slave to slave, Nor dares Oblivion screen her in the grave.

Come then, ye self-curs'd atheists! who degrade Truth to a sound, and scripture to a trade; Ye bearded sycophants! who life supply With the warm sun-shine of a minion's eye: Ye French editions of a British fool; Abroad a cypher, and at home a fool; Ye—