of each declares.]

[Footnote 7: 'Lockman's fate': to be little read, and less approved.]

[Footnote 8: 'Chardin': this genial knight wore at his own banquet a
garland of flowers, in imitation of the ancients; and kept two rosy
boys robed in white, for the entertainment of his guests.]

[Footnote 9: 'Isis': in allusion to the unnatural orgies said to be
solemnised on the banks of this river; particularly at one place,
where a much greater sanctity of morals and taste might be expected.]

[Footnote 10: 'Russell:' a famous mimic and singer, ruined by the
patronage of certain ladies of quality.]

[Footnote 11: 'Guthrie:' a scribbler of all work in that age.]

[Footnote 12: 'Bosom of the wood:' this last line relates to the
behaviour of the Hanoverian general in the battle of Dettingen.]

* * * * *

REPROOF: A SATIRE.

POET.

Howe'er I turn, or wheresoe'er I tread,
This giddy world still rattles round my head!
I pant for silence e'en in this retreat--
Good Heaven! what demon thunders at the gate?

FRIEND.

In vain you strive, in this sequester'd nook,
To shroud you from an injured friend's rebuke.

POET.

An injured friend! who challenges the name?
If you, what title justifies the claim?
Did e'er your heart o'er my affliction grieve,
Your interest prop me, or your praise relieve? 10
Or could my wants my soul so far subdue,
That in distress she crawl'd for aid to you?
But let us grant the indulgence e'er so strong;
Display without reserve the imagined wrong:
Among your kindred have I kindled strife,
Deflower'd your daughter, or debauch'd your wife;
Traduced your credit, bubbled you at game;
Or soil'd with infamous reproach your name?

FRIEND.

No: but your cynic vanity (you'll own)
Exposed my private counsel to the town. 20

POET.

Such fair advice 'twere pity sure to lose:
I grant I printed it for public use.

FRIEND.

Yes, season'd with your own remarks between,
Inflamed with so much virulence of spleen
That the mild town (to give the devil his due)
Ascribed the whole performance to a Jew.

POET.

Jews, Turks, or Pagans--hallow'd be the mouth
That teems with moral zeal and dauntless truth!
Prove that my partial strain adopts one lie,
No penitent more mortified than I; 30
Not e'en the wretch in shackles doom'd to groan,