What honest man but would with joy submit
To bleed with Cato, and retire with Pitt4?
Steadfast and true to Virtue's sacred laws,
Unmoved by vulgar censure or applause,
Let the World talk, my friend; that World, we
know,
Which calls us guilty cannot make us so.
Unawed by numbers, follow Nature's plan;
Assert the rights or quit the name of man.
Consider well, weigh strictly right and wrong;
Resolve not quick, but once resolved, be strong.
In spite of Dulness, and in spite of Wit,
If to thyself thou canst thyself acquit,
Rather stand up, assured with conscious pride,
Alone, than err with millions on thy side.
4 Mr. Pitt, in Sept. 1761, indignant at the repeated insults offered to this country by Spain, proposed to the Cabinet an immediate rupture with that Court; in this proposition he was supported by Lord Temple, but was opposed by Lord Bute, and all the other members of the Cabinet: upon which Mr. Pitt and Lord Temple took their leaves, and their written advice on the subject being rejected by his Majesty, they resigned their seals of office into his hands on the 5th of October following.
WILLIAM HOGARTH.
AMONGST the sons of men how few are known
Who dare be just to merit not their own!
Superior virtue and superior sense
To knaves and fools will always give offence;
Nay, men of real worth can scarcely bear,
So nice is jealousy, a rival there.
Be wicked as thou wilt, do all that's base,
Proclaim thyself the monster of thy race;
Let Vice and Folly thy black soul divide,
Be proud with meanness, and be mean with pride;
Deaf to the voice of Faith and Honour, fall
From side to side, yet be of none at all;
Spurn all those charities, those sacred ties
Which Nature, in her bounty good as wise,
To work our safety and ensure her plan,
Contrived, to bind and rivet man to man;
Lift against Virtue Power's oppressive rod,
Betray thy country, and deny thy God;
And, in one general, comprehensive line
To group, which volumes scarcely could define,
Whate'er of sin and dulness can be said,
Join to a F-'s' heart a D— -'s' head;
1 This initial has been supposed to allude to Mr. Fox, afterwards Lord Holland.
2 The public voice attributed this initial to Sir Francis Dashwood, afterwards Lord Le Despencer.
Yet mayst thou pass unnoticed in the throng,
And, free from envy, safely sneak along:
The rigid saint, by whom no mercy's shown
To saints whose lives are better than his own,
Shall spare thy crimes; and Wit, who never once
Forgave a brother, shall forgive a dunce.
But should thy soul, form'd in some luckless
hour,
Vile interest scorn, nor madly grasp at power;
Should love of fame, in every noble mind
A brave disease, with love of virtue join'd,
Spur thee to deeds of pith, where courage, tried
In Reason's court, is amply justified:
Or, fond of knowledge, and averse to strife,
Shouldst thou prefer the calmer walk of life;
Shouldst thou, by pale and sickly Study led,
Pursue coy Science to the fountain head;
Virtue thy guide, and public good thy end,
Should every thought to our improvement tend,
To curb the passions, to enlarge the mind,
Purge the sick weal, and humanize mankind;
Rage in her eye, and malice in her breast,
Redoubled Horror grinning on her crest,
Fiercer each snake, and sharper every dart,
Quick from her cell shall maddening Envy start;
Then shalt thou find, but find, alas! too late,
How vain is worth! how short is glory's date!
Then shalt thou find, whilst friends with foes
conspire
To give more proof than virtue would desire,
Thy danger chiefly lies in acting well;
No crime's so great as daring to excel.
Whilst Satire thus, disdaining mean control, Urged the free dictates of an honest soul,
Candour, who, with the charity of Paul,
Still thinks the best, whene'er she thinks at all, With the sweet milk of human kindness bless'd, The furious ardour of my zeal repress'd.
Canst thou, with more than usual warmth, she cried,
Thy malice to indulge, and feed thy pride;
Canst thou, severe by nature as thou art,
With all that wondrous rancour in thy heart,
Delight to torture truth ten thousand
To spin detraction forth from themes of praise,
To make Vice sit, for purposes of strife,
And draw the hag much larger than the life,
To make the good seem bad, the bad seem worse,
And represent our nature as our curse?
Doth not humanity condemn that zeal
Which tends to aggravate and not to heal?
Doth not discretion warn thee of disgrace,
And danger, grinning, stare thee in the face,
Loud as the drum which, spreading terror round,
From emptiness acquires the power of sound?
Doth not the voice of Norton3 strike thy ear,
And the pale Mansfield chill thy soul with fear?
Dost thou, fond man, believe thyself secure,
Because thou 'rt honest, and because thou'rt poor?
Dost thou on law and liberty depend?
Turn, turn thy eyes, and view thy injured friend.
Art thou beyond the ruffian gripe of Power,
When Wilkes, prejudged, is sentenced to the
Tower?
3 Sir Fletcher Norton, Attorney-General, afterwards Speaker of the House of Commons, and lastly created a peer by the title of Lord Grantley.
Dost thou by privilege exemption claim,
When privilege is little more than name?
Or to prerogative (that glorious ground
On which state-scoundrels oft have safety found)
Dost thou pretend, and there a sanction find,
Unpunish'd, thus to libel humankind?
When poverty, the poet's constant crime,
Compell'd thee, all unfit, to trade in rhyme,
Had not romantic notions turn'd thy head,
Hadst thou not valued honour more than bread;
Had Interest, pliant Interest, been thy guide,
And had not Prudence been debauch'd by Pride,
In Flattery's stream thou wouldst have dipp'd
thy pen,
Applied to great and not to honest men,
Nor should conviction have seduced thy heart
To take the weaker though the better part.
What but rank folly, for thy curse decreed,
Could into Satire's barren path mislead,
When, open to thy view, before thee lay
Soul-soothing Panegyric's flowery way?
There might the Muse have saunter'd at her ease,
And, pleasing others, learn'd herself to please;
Lords should have listen'd to the sugar'd treat,
And ladies, simpering, own'd it vastly sweet;
Rogues, in thy prudent verse with virtue graced,
Fools mark'd by thee as prodigies of taste,
Must have forbid, pouring preferments down,
Such wit, such truth as thine to quit the gown.
Thy sacred brethren too (for they no less
Than laymen, bring their offerings to success)
Had hail'd thee good if great, and paid the vow
Sincere as that they pay to God, whilst thou
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