ce a sycophant was fed by pride;
  Where ne'er was known the form of mock debate,
  Or seen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state;
  Where change of favourites made no change of laws,
  And senates heard before they judged a cause;                60
  How wouldst thou shake at Britain's modish tribe,
  Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe!
  Attentive, truth and nature to descry,
  And pierce each scene with philosophic eye,
  To thee were solemn toys or empty show
  The robes of pleasure, and the veils of woe:
  All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain,
  Whose joys are causeless, or whose griefs are vain.

   Such was the scorn that fill'd the sage's mind,
  Renew'd at every glance on human kind.                       70
  How just that scorn, e'er yet thy voice declare,
  Search every state, and canvass every prayer.

   Unnumber'd suppliants crowd Preferment's gate,
  Athirst for wealth, and burning to be great;
  Delusive Fortune hears the incessant call,
  They mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall.
  On every stage the foes of peace attend,
  Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their end.
  Love ends with hope, the sinking statesman's door
  Pours in the morning worshipper no more;                     80
  For growing names the weekly scribbler lies,
  To growing wealth the dedicator flies;
  From every room descends the painted face,
  That hung the bright Palladium of the place;
  And smoked in kitchens, or in auctions sold,
  To better features yields the frame of gold;
  For now no more we trace in every line
  Heroic worth, benevolence divine:
  The form distorted justifies the fall,
  And detestation rids the indignant wall.                     90

   But will not Britain hear the last appeal,
  Sign her foes' doom, or guard her favourites' zeal?
  Through Freedom's sons no more remonstrance rings,
  Degrading nobles, and controlling kings;
  Our supple tribes repress their patriot throats,
  And ask no questions, but the price of votes;
  With weekly libels and septennial ale,
  T