681

Born in such times, nor with that patience curst
Which saints may boast of, I must speak or burst.
But if, too eager in my bold career,
Haply I wound the nice, and chaster ear;
If, all unguarded, all too rude, I speak,
And call up blushes in the maiden's cheek,
Forgive, ye fair-my real motives view,
And to forgiveness add your praises too.
For you I write-nor wish a better plan,
The cause of woman is most worthy man;
For you I still will write, nor hold my hand
Whilst there's one slave of Sodom in the land. 690

Let them fly far, and skulk from place to place,
Not daring to meet manhood face to face;
Their steps I'll track, nor yield them one retreat
Where they may hide their heads, or rest their feet,
Till God, in wrath, shall let his vengeance fall,
And make a great example of them all,
Bidding in one grand pile, this town expire,
Her towers in dust, her Thames a lake of fire;
Or they (most worth our wish) convinced though late
Of their past crimes and dangerous estate,
Pardon of women with repentance buy,
And learn to honour them as much as I.

700

INDEPENDENCE.

THIS poem was published in the last week of September, 1764, and is the latest of Churchill's productions that appeared in his life-time. He soon afterwards went to France, where he was attacked by the disorder which prematurely swept him to the grave.

Adverting to the title, we may observe, that at this time Churchill had so far acquired the Independence which he loved, as to be altogether out of debt, and had he lived, he might, with the profits arising from the sale of his former still popular poems, and of his future productions, have realized a sufficient competence for life.

APPY the bard (though few such bards we find)

Who, 'bove controlment, dares to speak
his mind;

Dares, unabash'd, in every place appear,
And nothing fears, but what he ought to fear:
Him fashion cannot tempt, him abject need
Cannot compel, him pride cannot mislead
To be the slave of greatness, to strike sail
When, sweeping onward with her peacock's tail,
Quality in full plumage passes by;

He views her with a fix'd, contemptuous eye, And mocks the puppet, keeps his own due state, And is above conversing with the great.

10

Perish those slaves, those minions of the quill, Who have conspired to seize that sacred hill Where the nine sisters pour a genuine strain, And sunk the mountain level with the plain; Who, with mean, private views and servile art, No spark of virtue living in their heart, Have basely turn'd apostates; have debased Their dignity of office: have disgraced, Like Eli's sons, the altars where they stand, And caused their name to stink through all the

land;

Have stoop'd to prostitute their venal pen
For the support of great, but guilty men;
Have made the bard, of their own vile accord,
Inferior to that thing we call a lord.

20

What is a lord? Doth that plain simple word Contain some magic spell? As soon as heard, Like an alarum bell on Night's dull ear, Doth it strike louder, and more strong appear 30 Than other words? Whether we will or no, Through reason's court doth it unquestion'd go E'en on the mention, and of course transmit Notions of something excellent; of wit

Pleasing, though keen; of humour free, though chaste;

Of sterling genius, with sound judgment graced ;
Of virtue far above temptation's reach,

And honour, which not malice can impeach?
Believe it not-'twas nature's first intent,
Before their rank became their punishment,

40

They should have pass'd for men, nor blush'd to prize

The blessings she bestow'd-she gave them eyes, And they could see; she gave them ears—

heard;

-they

The instruments of stirring, and they stirr'd;
Like us, they were design'd to eat, to drink,
To talk, and every now and then, to think;
Till they, by pride corrupted, for the sake
Of singularity, disclaim'd that make:
Till they, disdaining nature's vulgar mode,
Flew off, and struck into another road,
More fitting Quality, and to our view
Came forth a species altogether new,

50

Something we had not known, and could not know,
Like nothing of God's making here below;
Nature exclaim'd with wonder: "Lords are things
Which, never made by me, were made by kings."

A lord, (nor let the honest and the brave,
The true old noble, with the fool and knave
Here mix his fame; cursed be that thought of mine,
Which with a Bute and Fox should Grafton join)

60 The third Duke of Grafton was then just at the outset of his political career, which was commenced under the banners of the Earl of Chatham. On the dismissal of the Duke of Bedford's ministry in 1765, the Duke of Grafton took the office of secretary of state, with an engagement to support the Marquess of Rockingham's administration. He resigned however in a short time, under the pretence that he could not act without Lord Chatham, nor bear to see his friend Mr. Wilkes abandoned. This was the signal for Lord Rockingham's dismissal. When Lord Chatham came in, the duke got possession of the treasury; soon afterwards Lord Chatham complained of a gradual deviation on his part from every thing that had been previously agreed to between them, and resigned in 1767. The Duke of Grafton then be

A lord, (nor here let Censure rashly call
My just contempt of some, abuse of all,
And, as of late, when Sodom was my theme,
Slander my purpose, and my muse blaspheme,
Because she stops not, rapid in her song,
To make exceptions as she goes along-
Though well she hopes to find, another year,
A whole minority exceptions here)

61

70

A mere, mere lord, with nothing but the name,
Wealth all his worth, and title all his fame,
Lives on another man, himself a blank,
Thankless he lives, or must some grandsire thank
For smuggled honours, and ill-gotten pelf;
A bard owes all to nature, and himself.

Gods, how my soul is burnt up with disdain, When I see men, whom Phoebus in his train Might view with pride, lackey the heels of those Whom genius ranks among her greatest foes! And what's the cause? why, these same sons of

scorn,

No thanks to them, were to a title born,
And could not help it; by chance hither sent,
And only deities by accident.

80

Had fortune on our getting chanced to shine, Their birthright honours had been yours or mine. 'Twas a mere random stroke, and should the throne

came the only efficient minister and the chief promoter of the measures against Wilkes. In 1770 he took the privy seal, and Lord North the treasury. His grace continued in office till 1777, and died in 1811.

64 Churchill's preceding poem, the Times, had been severely and justly censured for the imputation it conveyed, of the prevalence in this country of a crime, the very allusion to which was condemned as offensive to delicacy.