And lay your knife and fork and luncheon snug,
And make each plate a mirror, and each mug.
No spy askance our homely supper views,
No prating idler full of lies and news.
Here all are friends, pleased and intent to please,
By chearful confidence, and careless ease;
Who let a neighbour's conduct pass unknown,
And spare his errors, as they feel their own;
Who wish you every joy to mortals given,
Content, health, peace, and, long hereafter, heaven.
Haste then; leave your attorney in the lurch,
And slink in triumph through the postern porch.
YOUR liberal spirit ne'er will condescend
To coax or wheedle, though you praise your friend :
Flattery and fair applause as different seem,
As human language and a parrot's scream.
We hate the blandishment of the beguiler:
Yet is his opposite as vile, or viler;
That rough-hewn savage, whom we sometimes see,
Who calls ill-manner'd bluntness-honesty ;
Yelps in your face, and snarls with dirty tooth,
And scorns, he says, to utter aught but truth.
Virtue's firm steps to neither side incline;
Her straight path lies along the middle line.
The slave, whose very soul is not his own,
Who shrinks and shudders at a great man's frown;
Fawns for his food; and sooths and apes My Lord,
Repeats his phrases, licks up each fallen word-
Like schoolboy, watchful of the teacher's glance,
Who speaks in fear, and eyes the rod askance ;
Or like an actor bungling in his part
On purpose to set off another's art.
Not so gruff Honesty: the stubborn fool
Disputes it whether goats wear hair or wool.
rage: "That's kind, forsooth!
"A pretty story, Sir, to doubt my truth!
"Even life I value not; 'tis a disease,
"Unless I bark what, and at whom, I please."
And wherefore all this waste of angry breath?
What the great points to wrangle on till death?
-Which way from Grubstreet best to Bethle'm brings;*
And whether Quarles or Donne more sweetly sings.
Them, plunged and floundering in a sea of vice,
Whom fell Newmarket sinks, or desperate dice ;
Them, who, from want of foresight wanting fear,
Through airy regions wing a mad career,
In arrant pride, though hardly worth a groat,
Drink Burgundy, and wear a velvet coat ;
Them, who, in want, in rags, forlorn, and old,
Gasp, shiver, hunger, thirst, and all for gold:
Them, who start back afraid, ashamed, to see
The cold, pale, squalid form of Poverty ;—
All these, though wicked even above their pitch,
Their neighbour scorns and hates,—for he is rich:
* Bethlehem hospital is not far from Grubstreet.
At least he warns them; and, like pious mothers, Would wish more wisdom than his own to others; And says, "My wealth" (and what he says is true) "Allows me follies not allowed to you.
"Friend, you are poor; poor folks should not be fine: "Go, go, contend not with a purse like mine. "You must or may have heard, how sly Sir Bruin "Gave scarlet suits to those he meant to ruin."
And what could be his purpose?" Can't you guess?
Why, the fools grew luxurious like their dress;
"Would run in debt and slumber till mid-day,
"And leave all business to attend the play;
"Haunt cockpits, boxing, billiards, races, stews,
"At length, sell cardmatches, or black your shoes."
If then both opposites alike offend,
How may one get, and how secure, a friend?
Thus Be not rude, or mean, a droll or sad,
But take the good in each, and shun the bad.
Search not your neighbour's undisclosed design;
His secret keep though plied with threats and wine.
Nor with pedantic pride and sneering tone,
Deride a friend's pursuit, or praise your own :
Nor, if he hunt, and kindly bid you come,
Reject the offer, to scrawl verse at home.
There lived of yore, as antient playwrights show it, Two brothers, one a fowler, one a poet ;*
Each to his favourite art a slave ; yet neither
Could be at ease unless they were together.
What must be done? whom should our poet chuse,
And whom resign? his brother, or his muse?
He loved his brother; strife he wished to shun;
So quitted muse and quill, for dog and gun.
Profit by the example; it is best
That you yield to a powerful friend's request.
Then, trembling with delight when the steed bounds,
And the light beagle snuffs the welcome grounds,
Up, up! leave your dull lyre; grasp gun, ram cartridge;
And dine delightfully on hare and partridge.
Bold Britons love the sport, whose healthy charms
Inure to labour, hardihood and arms
You long have loved it; you, whose ready eye
Bids with sure aim the levell❜d lightning fly;
Whose youth, in vigilance and vigour bold,
Dared to defy the heat, the damp, the cold,
And far and wide, untired, undaunted, go
O'er the bewildering heath, and mountain whelm'd in snow.
* Horace calls them Amphion and Zethus: Cicero speaks of them as characters in a play of Pacuvius. Ad Herenn. cap. 43.
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