ENVY
.
A
SATIRE
.
IN
Y—k's
detested
Isle
,
that
Foe
to
Fame
,
That
Bane
of
Glory
,
and
a
virtuous
Name
;
Pale
Envy
dwells
,
and
ev'ry
Breast
inspires
,
With
mortal
Hatred
,
and
destructive
Fires
;
Enthron'd
She
sits
,
with
snaky
Honours
crown'd
,
And
deals
her
impious
Power
all
around
;
Deceit
,
on
one
hand
,
stands
with
cruel
Smiles
,
Dissembled
Truths
,
and
soft
successful
Wiles
;
But
,
in
her
Hand
,
tho'
half
conceal'd
,
is
view'd
,
The
pointed
Dagger
,
deep
in
Rage
imbru'd
:
Scandal
,
on
t'other
hand
,
like
Fame
appears
,
Alike
her
Number
both
of
Tongues
and
Ears
:
By
these
the
fairest
Reputation
dies
,
And
swift
,
and
sure
,
the
spreading
Ruin
flies
,
Round
the
fell
Pow'r
her
anxious
Votaries
throng
,
Vain
Age
contemn'd
,
and
unreguarded
Young
:
These
,
who
to
Virtue
,
Wit
,
and
Beauty
lost
;
Here
strive
to
blast
the
Fame
they
cannot
boast
;
Goddess
,
they
cry
,
if
e'er
thy
Suppliants
please
,
When
Crowds
they
sacrifice
to
give
thee
Ease
,
To
sooth
thy
Pains
,
when
some
distinguish'd
Name
,
Rises
to
blast
thee
with
an
honest
Fame
;
If
by
the
happy
Force
of
fraudful
Lies
,
Sunk
in
Oblivion
the
bright
Merit
dies
;
If
spotless
Chastity
to
Shame
betray'd
;
If
charms
,
when
blasted
,
in
the
blooming
Maid
,
Deserve
thy
Smile
,
—
the
pleasing
Mischief
aid
.
Still
GODDESS
,
in
our
Souls
thy
Pow'r
increase
,
And
to
each
pointed
Scandal
give
Success
.
Pleas'd
,
she
assents
,
and
now
each
lab'ring
Breast
Is
with
the
baneful
Fury's
Rage
possess'd
;
Arm'd
with
deep
Malice
each
reproachful
Tongue
Murders
the
Fair
,
the
Innocent
,
and
Young
;
With
doubtful
Hints
a
horrid
Sense
convey
,
And
smile
a
faultless
Character
away
.
But
now
Artelia
comes
with
stealing
Pace
,
Gentle
her
Air
,
but
Anguish
clouds
her
Face
;
Merit
uninjur'd
,
now
demands
her
Grief
,
But
future
Scandal
gives
her
Soul
relief
;
Swift
thro'
the
supplicating
Crowd
she
press'd
,
And
her
bad
Pray'r
in
Whispers
is
address'd
:
Goddess
,
who
all
my
anxious
Bosom
fires
,
Who
ev'ry
Word
and
ev'ry
Thought
inspires
;
Still
while
thy
potent
Influence
I
feel
,
Let
Friendship's
soft
Disguise
my
Aims
conceal
;
And
while
I
spread
destructive
Scandal
round
,
Beneath
that
Masque
let
me
securely
wound
.
'Tis
done
—
'tis
granted
,
fly
,
ye
virtuous
Few
,
Fly
e'er
her
cruel
Arts
your
Fame
pursue
;
See
Justice
from
the
foul
Infection
flies
,
And
frighted
hence
reseeks
her
native
Skies
.
Far
from
the
guilty
Scene
averts
her
Sight
,
Her
own
Philander
can't
retard
her
Flight
;
Tho'
her
bright
Image
,
in
his
Breast
he
bears
,
And
all
her
Beauties
in
his
Form
appears
;
Tho'
in
his
Soul
she
lights
her
heav'nly
Flame
,
And
finds
even
here
a
Votary
in
him
.