But dufky phantoms, Mufe, no more purfue! Now clearer objects open-yet untrue.

Awful the genuine hiftorian's name!

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60

Falfe ones with what materials build they fame; 50
Fabricks of fame, by dirty means made good,
As nefts of martins are compil'd of mud.
Peace be with Curll-with him I wave all ftrife,
Who pens each felon's, and each actor's life;
Biography that cooks the devil's martyrs,
And lards with lufcious rapes the cheats of Chartres.
Materials, which belief in gazettes claim,
Loofe-ftrung, run gingling into Hiftory's name.
Thick as Egyptian clouds of raining flies;
As thick as worms where man corrupting lies;
As pefts obfcene that haunt the ruin'd pile;
As monsters floundering in the muddy Nile;
Minutes, Memoirs, Views and Reviews appear,
Where flander daikens each recorded year.
In a paft reign is feign'd fome amorous league;
Some ring or letter now reveals th' intrigue:
Queens, with their minions, work unfeemly things,
And boys grow dukes, when catamites to kings.
Does a prince die? What poisons they furmife!
No royal mortal fure by nature dies.

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70

Is a prince born? What birth more bafe believ'd?
Or, what's more ftrange, his mother ne'er conceiv'd!
Thus flander popular o'er truth prevails,

And eafy minds imbibe romantic tales.

Thus, 'ftead of history, fuch authors raise

75

Mere crude wild novels of bad hints for plays.
N

Some

Some ufurp names-an English garreteer, From Minutes forg'd, is Monfieur Mefnager Some, while on good or ill fuccefs they stare, Give conduct a complexion dark or fair : Others, as little to enquiry prone,

80

Account for actions, though their spring's unknown. One ftatefinan vices has, and virtues too ;

Hence will contefted character enfue.

View but the black, he's fiend; the bright but scan, 85 He's angel view him all-he's ftill a man.

But fuch hiftorians all accufe, acquit ;

No virtue these, and thofe no vice admit;
For either in a friend no fault will know,
And neither own a virtue in a foe.

Where hear-fay knowledge fits on public names,
And bold conjecture or extols or blames,
Spring party-libels; from whofe afhes dead,
A monfter, mifnam'd Hiftory, lifts its head.
Contending factions croud to hear its roar !
But when once heard, it dies to noife no more.
From thefe no answer, no applause from those,
O'er half they fimper, and o'er half they doze.
So when in fenate, with egregious pate,
Perks up Sir. . . . . in some deep debate ;

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100

He

THE MINUTES OF MONS. MESNAGER; a book calculated to vilify the administration in the four

last years of queen Anne's reign. The truth is, that this libel was not written by Monf. Mefnager, neither was any fuch book ever printed in the French tongue, from which it is impudently faid in the title-page to be tranflated. SAVAGE.

He hems, looks wife, tunes thin his labouring throat,
To prove
black white, poftpone or palm the vote :
In fly contempt, fome, Hear him! Hear him! cry;
Some yawn, fome faeer; none fecond, none reply.

105

But dare fuch mifcreants now rufh abroad, By blanket, cane, pump, pillory, unaw'd? Dare they imp falfehood thus, and plume her wings, From prefent characters and recent things? Yes: What untruths! or truths in what difguife! What Boyers and what Oldmixons arife!

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What facts from all but them and Slander fcreen'd?
Here meets a council, no where else conven'd;
There, from originals, come, thick as fpawn,
Letters ne'er wrote, memorials never drawn;
To fecret conference never held they yoke,
Treaties ne'er plann'd, and fpeeches never spoke.
From, Oldmixon, thy brow, too well we know,
Like fin from Satan's far and wide they go.

115

In vain may St. John fafe in confcience fit;
In vain with truth confute, contemn with wit:
Confute, contemn, amid felected friends;
There finks the juftice, there the fatire ends.
Here, though a century fearce fuch leaves unclofe,
From mould and duft the flander facred grows.
Now none reply where all defpife the page;
But will dumb fcorn deceive no future age ?
Then, fhould dull periods cloud not seeming fact,
Will no fine pen th' unanfwer'd lie extract?
Well-fet in plan, and polifh'd into stile,
Fair and more fair may finifl'd fraud beguile;

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125

130

By every language fnatch'd, by time receiv'd,
In every clime, by every age believ'd :
How vain to virtue truft the great their name,
When fuch their lot for infamy or fame?

F

A

CHARACTER.

AIR Truth, in courts where Juftice should prefide, Alike the Judge and Advocate would guide; And thefe would vie each dubious point to clear, To ftop the widow's and the orphan's tear; Were all, like Yorke, of delicate address, Strength to difcern, and sweetness to exprefs, Learn'd, juft, polite, born every heart to gain, Like Cummins mild; like Fortefcue humane, All-eloquent of truth, divinely known,

So deep, fo clear, all Science is his own.

5

ΤΟ

Of heart impure, and impotent of head, In hiftory, rhetoric, ethics, law, unread; How far unlike fuch worthies, once a drudge, From floundering in low cafes, rofe a Judge. Form'd to make pleaders laugh, his nonfenfe thunders, 15 And, on low juries, breathes contagious blunders.

His

The honourable William Fortefcue, Efq; one of the Juftices of His Majesty's Court of Common Pleas.

20

25

His brothers blush, because no blush he know,
Nor e'er † "one uncorrupted finger shows."
See, drunk with power, the circuit-lord expreft!
Full, in his eye, his betters ftand confeft;
Whose wealth, birth, virtue, from a tongue so loose,
'Scape not provincial, vile, buffoon abuse.
Still to what circuit is affign'd his name,
There, fwift before him, flies the warner-Fame.
Contest ftops short, Confent yields every cause
To Coft; Delay, endures them, and withdraws.
But how 'cape prifoners? To their trial chain'd,
All, all shall stand condemn'd, who stand arraign'd.
Dire guilt, which elfe would deteftation cause,
Prejudg'd with infult, wonderous pity draws.
But 'fcapes e'en Innocence his harth harangue?
Alas!-e'en Innocence itself muft hang;
Muft hang to please him, when of spleen poffeft;
Must hang to bring forth an abortive jest.

30

Why liv'd he not ere Star-chambers had fail'd, 35 When fine, tax, cenfure, all but law prevail'd; Or law, fubfervient to fome murderous will, Became a precedent to murder ftill? Yet e'en when patriots did for traitors bleed, Was e'er the jobb to such a slave decreed, Whofe favage mind wants fophift-art to draw, O'er murder'd virtue, fpecious veils of law? Why, Student, when the bench your youth admits; Where, though the worst, with the best rank'd he fis;

N 3

+ When Page one uncorrupted finger shows.

40

Where

D. of WHARTON.