But plots and parties give new matters birth,
And state distractions serve you here for mirth.
At England's cost poets now purchase fame;
While factious heats destroy us, without shame,
These wanton Neroes fiddle to the flame;
The stage, like old rump-pulpits, is become
The scene of news, a furious party's drum:
Here poets beat their brains for volunteers,
And take fast hold of asses by their ears;
Their jingling rhimes for reason here you swallow,
Like Orpheus' music, it makes beasts to follow.
What an enlightening grace is want of bread!
How it can change a libeller's heart, and clear a laureat's head;
Open his eyes, till the mad prophet see
_Plots working in a future power to be!_ (Medal, p. 14.)
Traitors unformed to his second sight are clear.
And squadrons here and squadrons there appear;
Rebellion is the burden of the seer.
To Bayes, in vision, were of late revealed,
_Whig armies, that at Knightsbridge lay concealed;_
And though no mortal eye could see't before,
_The battle just was entering at the door._
A dangerous association, signed by none,
The joiner's plot to seize the king alone.
Stephen with College[3] made this dire compact;
The watchful Irish took them in the fact.
Of riding armed; O traitorous overt act!
With each of them an ancient Pistol sided,
Against the statute in that case provided.
Pages:
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158