_ ten thousand clear,
Yelps in the House, or barely sits a Peer?
For shame! for shame! the liberal British soul
To stoop to any stale dictator's rule! 200
I may be wrong, and often am no doubt,
But right or wrong with friends with foes 'twill out.
Thus 'tis perhaps my fault if I complain
Of trite invention and a flimsy vein,
Tame characters, uninteresting, jejune, 205
And passions drily copied from [A]Le Brun.
For I would rather never judge than wrong
That friend of all men, generous Fenelon.
But in the name of goodness, must I be 210
The dupe of charms I never yet could see?
And then to flatter where there's no reward--
Better be any patron-hunting bard,
Who half our Lords with filthy praise besmears,
And sing an Anthem to ALL MINISTERS:
Taste th' Attic salt in ev'ry Peer's poor rebus, 215
And crown each Gothic idol for a Phoebus.
[Footnote A: First painter to Lewis XIV. who, to speak in fashionable
French English, _called himself_ LEWIS THE GREAT.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39