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That name the learn'd with fierce disputes pursue, And give to Titus old Vespasian's due.
Ambition sigh'd ; she found it vain to trust The faithless column and the crumbling bust; Huge moles, whose shadow stretch'd from shore
to shore, Their ruins perish’d, and their place no more : Convinc'd, she now contracts her vast design, And all her triumphs shrink into a Coin. A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps, Beneath her palm here sad Judea weeps. Now scantier limits the proud arch confine, And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile, or Rhine ; A small Euphrates through the piece is rollid, And little Eagles wave their wings in gold.
The Medal, faithful to its charge of fame, Through climes and ages bears each form and name: In one short view subjected to our eye, Gods, emp’rors, heroes, sages, beauties, lie. With sharpen'd sight pale Antiquaries pore, Th' inscription value, but the rust adore. This the blue varnish, that the green endears, The sacred rust of twice ten hundred years ! To gain Pescennius one employs his schemes, One grasps a Cecrops in extatic dreams Poor Vadius long with learned spleen devour'd Can taste no pleasure since his shield was scour'd; And Curio, restless by the fair-one's side, Sighs for an Otho, and neglects his bride.
Theirs is the vanity, the learning thine : Touch'd by thy hand again Rome's glories shine ; Her gods and godlike heroes rise to view And all her faded garlands bloom anew. Nor blush these studies thy regard engage ; These pleas'd the fathers' of poetic rage; The verse and sculpture bore an equal part, And art reflected images to art.
Oh! when shall Britain, conscions of her claim, Stand'emulous of Greek and Roman fame? In living Medals see her wars enrolld, And vanquish'd realms supply recording gold ; Here, rising bold, the patriot's honest face, There warriors frowning in historic brass ; Then future ages with delight shall see How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks agree ; Or in fair series laurell'd bards be shown, A Virgil there, and here an Addison : Then shall fiy Craggs (and let me call him mine) On the cast ore anoiber Pollio shine ; With
aspect open shall erect his head And round the orb in lasting notes be read, • Statesinan, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
In actiori faithful, and in honor clear ; Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, * Who gain’d no title, and who lost no friend ;
Ennobled by himself, by all approv’d, ' And prais'd unetivy'd by the Muse he lov’d.'
Behold the woes of matrimonial life,
Christ saw a wedding once, the Scripture says, And saw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days; 10 Whence some infer, whose conscience is too nice, No pious Christian ought to marry twice.
But let them read, and solve me if they can, The words address'd to the Samaritan : Five times in lawful wedlock she was join'd, 15 And sure the certain stint was ne'er defin'd.
• Increase and multiply' was Heav'n's command, And that's a text I clearly understand. This too · Let men their sires and mothers leave, • And to their dearer wives for ever cleave.' 20 More wives than one by Solomon were try'd, Or else the wisest of mankind's bely'd. I've had myself full many a merry fit, And trust in Heav'n I may have many yet ;
For when my transitory spouse unkind,
Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn,
I envy not their bliss if he or she
proper gift, another grants to those ;
Full many a saint, since first the world began,
His proper body is not his but mine ;
Know then, of those five husbands I have had,
Presents flow'd in apace: with show'rs of gold They made their court, like Jupiter of old : 65 If I but smil'd a sudden youth they found, And a new palsy sciz'd them when I frown'd.
Ye sov'reign Wives! give ear, and understand, Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command ; For never was it giv'n to mortal man
70 To lie so boldly, as we women can: Forswear the fact, though seen with both his eyes, And call your maids to witness how he lies.
Hark, old Sir Paul! ('twas thus I us'd to say) Whence is our neighbor's wife so rich and gay? Treated, caress'd where'er she's pleas'd to roamI sit in tarters, and immur'd at home. Why to her house dost thou so oft repair ? Art thou so am'rous ? and is she so fair? If I but see a cousin or a friend,
80 Lord ! how you swell and rage
fiend ! But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear, Then preach till midnight in your easy chair