In Imitation of the Third Satire of JUVENAL.
This poem of Mr. Johnfon's is the beft imitation of the original that has appeared in our language, being poffeffed of all the force and fatyrical refentment of Juvenal. Imitation gives us a much truer idea of the ancients than even tranflation could do.
HO' grief and fondness in my breast rebel,
When injur'd Thales bids the town farewcl,
Yet ftill my calmer thoughts his choice commend,
I praise the hermit, but regret the friend;
Who now refolves, from vice and London far,
To breathe in diftant fields a purer air,
And, fix'd on Cambria's folitary shore,
Give to St. David one true Briton more.
For who wou'd leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's land,
Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand?
There none are swept by fudden fate away,
But all, whom hunger fpares, with age decay:
Here malice, rapine, accident, confpire ;
And now a rabble rages, now a fire:
Their ambush here relentlefs ruffians lay,
And here the fell attorney prowls for prey :
D 6
Here falling houfes thunder on your head,
And here a female atheift talks you dead.
While Thales waits the wherry that contains
Of dipated wealth the fmall remains,
On Thames's bank in filent thought we stood,
Where Greenwich fmiles upon the filver flood.
Struck with the feat that gave Eliza birth,
We kneel, and kifs the confecrated earth;
In pleafing dreams the blissful age renew,
And call Britannia's glories back to view;
Behold her cross triumphant on the main,
The guard of commerce and the dread of Spain.
Ere masquerades debauch'd, excife opprefs'd,
Or English honour grew a ftanding jeft.
A tranfient calm the happy fcenes beftow,
And, for a moment, lull the sense of woe.
At length awaking with contemptuous frown,
Indignant Thales eyes the neighb'ring town.
Since worth, he cries, in thefe degen'rate days,
Wants e'en the cheap reward of empty praise;
In thofe curft walls, devote to vice and gain,
Since unrewarded science toils in vain ;
Since hope but fooths to double my diftrefs,
And ev'ry moment leaves my little lefs;
While yet my fteady fteps no staff sustains,
And life ftill vig'rous revels in my veins;
Grant me, kind heaven, to find fome happier place,
Where honefty and fenfe are no difgrace;
Some pleafing bank, where verdant ofiers play,
Some peaceful vale, with nature's painting gay ;
Where once the harrafs'd Briton found repose,
And fafe, in poverty, defy'd his foes:
Some fecret cell, ye pow'rs indulgent, give:
has learn'd to live.
Here let thofe reign, whom penfions can incite
To vote a patriot black, a courtier white;
Explain their country's dear-bought rights away,
And plead for pirates in the face of day;
With flavish tenets taint our poinson'd youth,
And lend a lye the confidence of truth.
Let fuch raise palaces, and manors buy,
Collect a tax, or farm a lottery,
With warbling eunuchs fill a licens'd stage,
And lull to fervitude a thoughtless age.
Heroes proceed! what bounds your pride fhall hold ? What check reftrain your thirit of pow'r and gold? Behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown,
Behold our fame, our wealth, our lives your own.
To fuch, a groaning nation's fpoils are giv'n,
When public crimes inflame the wrath of heav'n:
But what, my friend, what hope remains for me,
Who start at theft, and blush at perjury ?
Who scarce forbear, tho' Britain's court he fing,
To pluck a titled poet's borrow'd wing;
A ftatesman's logic unconvinc'd can hear,
And dare to flumber o'er the Gazetteer;
Defpife a fool in half his penfion dress'd,
And ftrive in vain to laugh at H—y's jeft.
Others with fofter fmiles, and fubtler art,
Can fap the principles, or taint the heart;
With more addrefs a lover's note convey,
Or bribe a virgin's innocence away.
Well may they rife, while I, whose ruftic tongue
Ne'er knew to puzzle right, or varnish wrong,
Spurn'd as a beggar, dreaded as a spy,
Live unregarded, unlamented die.
For what but focial guilt the friend endears?
Who shares Orgilio's crimes, his fortune fhares:
But thou, fhould tempting villainy present,
All Marlb'rough hoarded, or all Villiers spent,
Turn from the glitt'ring bribe thy scornful eye,
Nor fell for gold, what gold could never buy,
The peaceful flumber, felf-approving day,
Unfullied fame, and confcience ever gay.
The cheated nation's happy fav'rites fee ;
Mark whom the great carefs, who frown on me.
London! the needy villain's gen'ral home,
The common fewer of Paris and of Rome,
With eager thirft, by folly or by fate,
Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state;
Forgive my transports on a theme like this;
I cannot bear a French metropolis.
Illuftrious Edward! from the realms of day
The land of heroes and of faints furvey;
Nor hope the British lineaments to trace,
The ruftic grandeur, or the furly grace,
But, loft in thoughtlefs eafe, and empty show,
Behold the warrior dwindled to a beau;
Senfe, freedom, piety, refin'd away,
Of France the mimic, and of Spain the prey.
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