MODERN VIRTUE.

A SATIRE.

"LET venal annals boast a Caesar's reign,
" When Rome's great genius hugg'd th' imperial chain,
"Freedom, gay Goddess, glads our happier isle,
" Peace smooths her brow, as Plenty decks her smile;
"In every son th' inspirer lives confess'd,
" And lights up all the patriot in his breast,
"Breathes the same social warmth from soul to soul,
" Till widening Nature pants but for a whole. 

"Shines he in life's meridian beam display'd,
" Or gives his milder virtues to the shade;
"Glares the proud ribbon, nods the martial crest,
" Or flaunt the tatters on his motly vest;
"The godlike Briton fills his every sphere
" Without a frailty, and without a fear. 
"If rich: Bright image of the Eternal Mind,
" His opening bosom takes in all mankind;
"Where'er he comes, Health triumphs o'er Disease,
" Hope glads Despair, and Anguish melts to ease. 
"Is Knowledge his? He lends his every art,
" To rear the genius, and to mould the heart;
[Page 73]21  "Fondly pursues with Boyle's auspicious blaze
" Truth thro' her masques, and Nature thro' her maze;
"To heedless Justice gives the well-poiz'd scale,
" And raises Commerce as he guides the sail. 
"Is power his orb? He lives but to defend;
" The statesman only dignifies the friend:
"Disarms Oppression, prunes Ambition's wing,
" And stifles Faction ere she darts her sting;
"Enriches every coffer but his own,
" And shields the cottage while he guards the throne;
"Sees at his nod our plunder'd rights restor'd,
" And Europe trembling when he grasps the sword. " 

Thus sung the Muse when Fancy vigorous ran,
And warm'd the youth, ere Reason form'd the man;
Life thro' Opinion's false perspective seen,
With mimic beauty glow'd in every scene;
Dress'd in an angel's visionary form,
Vice aim'd to please, and Madness learn'd to charm:
Rebellion soften'd into public love,
And each enormous villain seem'd a Jove. 
Doubly deceiv'd, what Lelius could I find
To chase the phantoms, or to free the mind? 
No Lelius came, no Seraph lent his aid,
No pitying Genius whisper'd in the glade. 

It chanc'd that Virtue heard th' untutor'd lays,
Still madly lisping with the voice of praise;
She heard, as thro' the mall the Goddess stray'd,
When the gay world had peopled all the shade,
[Page 74]49  Mild as the softness of a vernal sky,
Youth flush'd her cheek, while caution arm'd her eye;
Half loose majestic flow'd her azure vest,
A spotless ruby bled upon her breast,
At every step kind Nature felt her power,
Soft blew the zephyr, and soft sprung the flower;
A brighter freshness hung on every green,
And a new Eden stole upon the scene,

Awhile she paus'd, and with a frown survey'd
The mingling swarm of tatters and brocade. 
When, as the Goddess wav'd th' ethereal spear,
Pride dropt her smile, and Artifice her tear;
Lust threw aside Religion's borrow'd grace,
A leering Satyr gloated in her face;
The prude, who fainted at the name of vice,
Now hugg'd the bottle, and now grasp'd the dice;
While tortur'd with the town's obscener ail,
A Saint stood melting o'er a luscious tale. 
Here, the bribe glitter'd in a Courtier's hand;
There, the grave Patriot bellow'd — for a wand:
Full in his eye th' enchanting object hung,
And dying Freedom gasp'd upon his tongue. 
All who to Drury's deadly stews resort,
Rob at the Change, or plunder in the Court,
Stripp'd of their masques in wild disorder rose,
One with a halter, one without a nose;
So oddly mix'd, so excellently ill,
Such motly spectres of Quevedo's hell;
[Page 75]77  They'd make a Jesuit quit the absolving chair,
A brothel tremble, and a conclave stare. 

So when, where Bedlam's air-dress'd visions dwell,
Tom stalks a straw-crown'd monarch in his cell;
Just as he soars tremendous to a God,
And the wing'd thunder only waits his nod;
Shudd'ring, he hears his keeper's surly tone,
He hears, and horror wraps his tott'ring throne;
Crowns drop their lustre, scepters lose their awe,
Robes fly to rags, and empires sink to straw. 

"Learn hence, fair Virtue cry'd, mistaken youth,
" What various monsters wear the guise of Truth. 
"Deck'd with each grace, immortal Merit shews
" The cheek that reddens, and the soul that glows;
"With heaven's own image beaming in his eye,
" Man smiles a dagger, and he looks a lie. " 
She spoke, and lo! the long-misguided fire,
With every number, slept along the lyre. 

Say then, my friend! whose virtues are my pride,
Whose candour soothes me, while thy precepts guide;
Thou whose quick eye has look'd thro' every age,
View'd every scene, and studied every sage;
Say, shall I praise th' escutcheon's proud record,
When a lost Brutus sinks into a lord? 
With fulsome sing-song after shadows run,
And still mistake a meteor for a sun? 
Shall I be silent, while from day to day
Bellville in bagnios revels life away;
[Page 76]105  Flagitious drops the majesty of power
In the mad mischiefs of the midnight hour;
No flatterer left to daub, no friend to aid,
By strumpets plunder'd, and by wits betray'd? 

Rous'd at the thought, keen Satire spurns her chain,
Springs with new life, and pants in every vein,
On vice, impatient, wreaks her gathering rage,
And bids the tyrant bleed thro' all the page. 
Broods she in purple o'er the venal bar,
Struts in a gown, or blazes in a star? 
My pen shall trace her out from slave to slave,
Nor dares Oblivion screen her in the grave. 

Come then, ye self-curs'd atheists! who degrade
Truth to a sound, and scripture to a trade;
Ye bearded sycophants! who life supply
With the warm sun-shine of a minion's eye:
Ye French editions of a British fool;
Abroad a cypher, and at home a fool;
Ye —

FRIEND.

Are you mad? or have you lost all grace? 
What, write a satire when you want a place! 
Hold, hold, for God's sake, ere your friends bestow
Afewstoutcords;andsendyoutoMonrokk Physician to Bethlem hospital.
.
Would you avoid the pedant's learned sneer? 
Awe the pert fop? or sooth a doctor's ear? 
[Page 77]129 Heedless of all the phantom Sisters play'd,
From cloud-topt Pindus to the Latian shade,
Pursue deep Science thro' her mazy road,
Hunt every page, and crawl from code to code;
Where musty systems solid joy dispense,
And wise smiglecius fills the void of sense;
Or proud some more important truths to learn,
Dream o'er the labour'd glossaries of Hearn:
So you may live, approv'd, perhaps preferr'd,
Your wisdom gravely measur'd by your beard. 

But soft — Your aim's to civilize mankind,
To wake each social virtue of the mind;
To strip from Vice the gay disguise of art,
And bare the villain lurking in the heart;
For this your grasp the falchion, spread the shield,
A pigmy Quixot in the 'listed field. 

Time was, when satire delicately nice
Cou'd rouze each virtue, and cou'd blast each vice;
Truth learn'd to please from Aesop's fabling tongue,
And Rome grew virtuous when her Ennius sung. 
Once lost to goodness, but now lost to shame,
We court dishonour, as we laugh'd at fame;
With the same raptures plunge in every crime,
Tho' fifty Oldhams stab in every rhime. 

A native sin each vigorous Frenchman hails,
Politely partial to his own Versailles. 
There, toujours gai, he loves a looser rein;
His Miss, la Contesse, and his wine Champagne. 
[Page 78]157 Britain, more generous, every vice provides,
That Europe ripens, and that Asia hides. 
Th' enormous harvest to our ports consign'd
Loads every ship, and busies every wind. 
Soon a vast group of follies croud the shore,
As soon they cloy. — Fly hence, and fetch-us more,
Quick spread th' impatient sail from pole to pole,
Ye zephyrs, waft her! and ye oceans, roll! 

Strike whom you please, and write whate'er you will,
Harpax will cheat, and Phillis hide spadille:
Hircus in brothels impotently toil,
And Verres murder merit with a smile:
Murder, secure of same, for vulgar eyes
Will still adore him, tho' the good despise;
At his rich coat and gorgeous chariot gaze,
And lose at once th' assassin in the blaze. 

E'en Young himself, distinguish'd, lov'd, carest,
Mark'd by each eye, and hugg'd to every breast,
Sees he among this vicious race of men
One rascal mended when he grasps the pen? 
Still at the levee swarms the venal tribe,
And still Corruption longs for every bribe. 

AUTHOR.

What then? If Vice unblushing hears the sage,
Shall Reason struggle in the check of age? 
Shall Truth shut up in complaisance her heart,
Young lend a smile, and Satire drop her dart? 
[Page 79]183 No, let the fiend-like heads of Hydra grow,
Rise as he strikes, and double from the blow;
One honest drudge our Hercules has found,
To sear the monster sprouting in the wound. 

Come, come, my friend; throw off this rising frown,
Nor curb my passions while you loose your own. 
Oft have you bid proud Thraso mend his life,
Who kick'd a sister, and who starv'd a wife;
Nay, insolently dar'd to tell her grace,
That virtue made a Goddess, not the face. 

FRIEND.

When brisker spirits thro' the bosom roll,
And life's mad tumuit rushes on the soul;
Each beardless Cato wings with awkward zeal
His little arrow ere he learns to feel;
Fierce as old Appius, apes th' insulting air,
Th' uplifted eye-brow, and the lordly stare. 
So I — But now that age with smooth career
Wafts cooler notions on my sixtieth year;
Lost to each hope, each visionary joy,
Pomps that disturb, and vanities that cloy;
Heedless what wit's cashier'd, what sool's carest,
Who lives an hero, or who lives a jest,
I view the world's romantic scene pass by,
And stifle all my anger in a sigh. 

While thus my days steal on the wing of time,
Unstain'd by wit, and guiltless of a rhyme,
[Page 80]209  Unnumber'd ills the dreaded Satirist wait,
Stand fast, Olympus! and support him, Fate! 
See! frantic Dulness panting for the war,
Grasps the keen spear, and mounts th' imperial car,
Shrill clarions sound, attending Furies yell,
The length'ning echo howls thro' every cell;
Rous'd by th' inspiring clang, each mighty son,
Congenial offspring of his fire, the Hun,
Slides from his garret formidably gay,
An human vulture darting on his prey. 
All they whose science loads th' incumber'd stall,
Who wound the wainscot, and who daub the wall,
Luxurious rogues, that revel once a week
On the rich feast of visto's and ox-cheek;
From the soft lyric to the wretch who squalls
The Mint-born ballad at the end of Paul's,
Around the flag in martial pomp appear,
Curl in the van, and Osborne in the rear. 
Th' impatient battle joins, and lo! at once
The same wild phrenzy spreads from dunce to dunce,
Fir'd with one soul, the shirtless legions run,
One hurls a journal, and one darts a pun,
In snip-snap prose vindictive lightnings play,
And loud hoarse thunders rattle thro' the lay. 
Quick and more quick, the dire discordant din
Rolls thro' each hall, and roars from inn to inn;
Wakes the loud horrors of the wrangling school,
Where Priscian bawls, and fool re-echoes fool. 

[Page 81]

But should you all the mighty mad defeat,
Who howl in Bedlam, and who stun the Fleet,
See the pert critic tremble to engage,
Wit blunt her sting, and Envy drop her rage;
Yet can poor Innocence to mercy awe
Those deadlier pests, the harpies of the law? 
Another P—n shields each worthless lord,
Arms the dread scourge, and whets th' avenging sword,
Where he, great genius! throws his letter'd eye,
Truth stares a libel, Honesty a lye,
Young embryo treasons in each period shine,
And fancy'd poisons kill thro' every line. 
He sure will curb you, tho' my precepts fail,
No stoic bullies when he smells a jail,
Conscious that Wisdom mounts her throne too late,
When doom'd to warble ethics thro' a grate. 

AUTHOR.

Speak you of Claudius? Let the minion rave,
Say Pitt's a fool, and Lyttelton's a knave,
Call wit a libel, and yet never see
Swords in a brief, or poisons in a fee. 
But from my soul all scandal I detest,
Truth forms my numbers, as she warms my breast,
Learns me to triumph o'er a pimp's disdain,
And bids me laugh when Claudius threats the chain. 

What, shall I strive to dignify disgrace? 
And hail a patriot less'ning in a place? 
[Page 82]263 Rear the proud trophy on a soldier's grave,
Who liv'd a coward, and who dy'd a slave? 
Shall I on Vice's pageantry attend,
Croud to her car, and at her altars bend? 
Rather, where Indian suns their rays unfold,
And ripen half Potosi into gold,
Let me beneath a Spaniard's insult pine,
Crouch to the scourge, and drudge from mine to mine. 

Yet is there one, my friend! who shines confest
With all that heaven stamps upon the breast,
Who, nobly conscious of paternal fire,
Feeds the bright blaze, and beams upon his sire. 
Mine be the task to swell from day to day
Th' applauding paean, and the loud huzza;
To bid our sons with filial fondness warm,
Eye every grace, and copy every charm;
Explore his purpose, catch his God-like rage,
And be the Maltons of another age. 

My verse, you say, will certainly offend. 
Who? Not the man whom Virtue calls her friend. 
Virtue, like gold, of genuine worth possess'd,
Shines out more radiant when she dares the test. 
Swords arm her bosom, racks her vigour raise,
And all hell's fires but give her strength to blaze. 
Can truth than hurt her? wound her sacred ear? 
Wake the keen pang? or rouze th' impassion'd tear? 
'Tis true, the selfish mercenary train,
Whom honours libel, and whom titles stain,
[Page 83]291  Struck with the face in Satire's mirror shown,
Perhaps may tremble, and perhaps may frown. 
Thanks to their rage, my days will happier flow,
And my joys brighten when a knave's my foe. 

Yet think not that the Muse, to spleen resign'd,
Aims monster-like to swallow up mankind,
Bids her keen shafts with baleful vengeance fly,
Taint the pure breeze, and poison half the sky,
Or fond to spread destruction thro' the land,
Exults with Nero as she lights the brand;
With honest warmth she wishes to controul
Each deadly weed that blossoms on the soul,
That wildly vigorous mocks at Virtue's toil,
That choaks the scion, and that robs the soil;
But sadly conscious that just heaven has made
Each grace to border on its kindred shade;
That in the gem some sullying vein will run,
And the disk darken while there shines a sun;
The melting image gains upon her heart,
And spite of justice half disarms the dart. 

Oh! let me then in Fable's empire rove,
Where talks the forest, and where laughs the grove;
Attend the Goddess thro' her airy scene,
Her pictures borrow, and her morals glean;
From wolves and lions draw th' instructive tale,
And hide the glare of reason in a veil. 

Blest be the thought. Here guiltless of offence,
Dispassion'd Truth may sneer you into sense;
[Page 84]319  On vicious men her whole artillery play,
Sublimely grave or whimsically gay;
Thro' the wide world in moral vision range,
Glide thro' the Court, and steal upon the Change;
Lust's rampant empress keenly-ey'd pursue,
Or opening in her Paphos, or the stew;
Lethargic Justice on the bench assail,
Edge the dull sword, and poise th' unequal scale:
With Rabelais' jest display th' officious knave,
In life's mad vortex whirling to the grave;
Point at Opinion's self-embroider'd vest,
Folly's gay plume, and Pride's enormous crest,
Each frenzy mortify, each vice confound,
And Self-conviction only feel the wound. 

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Title (in Source Edition): MODERN VIRTUE. A SATIRE.

Author: Anonymous

Themes: virtue; vice

Genres: heroic couplet; satire

References: DMI 31302

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Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. II. [The second edition]. London: printed for G. Pearch, 1770, pp. 72-84. 4v. ; 8⁰. (ESTC T116245; DMI 1135; OTA K093079.002) (Page images digitized from a copy in the Bodleian Library [(OC) 280 o.789].)

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The text has been typographically modernized, but without any silent modernization of spelling, capitalization, or punctuation. The source of the text is given and all editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. Based on the electronic text originally produced by the TCP project, this ECPA text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 4.0.0.

MODERN VIRTUE.

A SATIRE.

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