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If this they dare, the thunder of his song,
Rolling in deep-ton's energy along,
Shall strike, with Truth's dead bolt, each miscreant's

name,
Who, dead to duty, senseless e'en to shame,
Betray'd his Country. Yes, ye faithless crew,
His Musc's vengeance shall your crimes pursue,
Stretch you on Satire's rack, and bid you lie
Fit garbage for the hell-hound, Infamy. 110

EPISTLE X.

THE

ART OF POLITICS,

IN IMITATION OF

HORACE's ART OF POETRY.

BY THE

REV. MR. BRAMSTON.

If to an human face Sir James should draw
A horse's mane, and feathers of maccaw,'
A lady's bosom, and a tail of cod,
Who could help laughing at a sight so odd ?
Just such a monster, Sirs, pray think before you,
When you behold one man both Whig and Tory.
Not more extravagant are drunkards dreams,
Than Low-church politics with High-church schemes.

10

Painters, You'll say, may their own fancies use, And free-born Britons may their party choose : That's true, I own: but can one piece be drawn For dove and dragon, elephant and fawn?

Speakers profess'd, who gravity pretend, With motley sentiments their speeches blend;

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Begin like patriots, and like courtiers end.
Some love to roar the constitution's broke,
And others on the nation's debts to joke :
Some rail, (they hate a commonwealth so much,)
Whate'er the subject be, against the Dutch ;
While others, with more fashionable fury, 20
Begin with turnpikes, and conclude with Fleury.
Some, when th'affair was Blenheim’s glorious battle,
Declaim'd against importing Irish cattle:
But
you,
from whate'er side

you

take your name, Like Anna's motto, always be the same.

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Outsides deceive, 'tis hard the truth to know,
Parties from quaint denominations flow,
As Scotch and Irish antiquaries show.
The low are said to take Fanatics parts,
The high are bloody Papists in their hearts. 30
Caution and fear to highest faults have run;
In pleasing both the parties, you please none.
Who in the house affects declaiming airs,
Whales in Change-alley paints : in Fish-street, bears.
Some metaphors, some handkerchiefs display,
These peep in hats, while those with buttons play,
And make me think it Repetition-day;
There knights haranguing hug a neighb'ring post,
And are but quorum orators at most.
Sooner than thus my want of sense expose, 40
I'll deck out bandy-legs with gold-clock'd hose,
Or wear a toupet-wig without a nose.

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Nay, I would sooner have thy phyz, I swear,
Surintendant des plaisirs d'Angleterre.

Ye weekly Writers of seditious news,
Take care your subjects artfully to choose,
Write panegyric strong, or boldly rail,
You cannot miss preferment, or a gaol.
Wrap up your poison, well, nor fear to say
What was a lie last night is truth to-day.

60
Tell this, sink that, arrive at Ridpath's praise, ..
Let Abel Roper your ambition raise.
To lie fit opportunity observe,
Saving some double meaning in reserve;
But oh! you'll merit everlasting fame,
If f you can quibble on Sir Robert's name.
In state affairs use not the vulgar phrase,
Talk words scarce known in good queen Besse's days,
New terms let war or traffic introduce,
And try to bring persuading-ships in use.

6. Coin words : in coining ne'er mind common sense, Provided the original be French.

Like South-sea stock, expressions rise and fall :
King Edward's words are now no words at all.
Did aught our predecessors genius cramp?
Sure ev'ry reign may have its proper stamp.
All sublunary things of death partake;
What alteration does a cent’ry make!
Kings and comedians are all mortal found,
Caesar and Pinkethman are under ground.

po

What's not destroy'd by Time's devouring hand ? Where's Troy, and where's the may-pole in the

Strand ? Pease, cabbages, and turnips once grew, where Now stands New Bond street, and a newer square ; Such piles of buildings now rise up and down, London itself seems going out of town. Our fathers cross'd from Fulham in a wherry, Their sons enjoy a bridge at Putney-ferry. Think we that modern words eternal are?. Toupet and Tompion, Cosins, and Colmar so Hereafter will be call's, by some plain man, A wig, a watch, a pair of stays, a fan. To things themselves if time such change affords, Can there be any trusting to our words?

To screen good ministers from public rage,
And how with party madness to engage,
We learn from Addison's immortal page.
The Jacobite's ridiculous opinion
Is seen from Tickell's letter to Avignon.
But who puts Caleb's Country-Craftsman outgo
Is still a secret, and the world's in doubt.

Not long since parish-clerks, with saucy airs,
Apply'd king David's psalms to state affairs.
Some certain tunes to politics belong,
On both sides drunkards love a party-song.

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