Scorn’d be the bard, and wither’d all his fame,
  Who wounds a brother weeping o’er his shame! 
  But if an impious wretch, with frantic pride,
  Throws honour, truth, and decency aside;
  If not by reason awed, nor check’d by fears,
  He counts his glories from the stains he bears,
  The indignant Muse to Virtue’s aid shall rise,
  And fix the brand of infamy on vice. 130
  What if, aroused at his imperious call,
  An hundred footsteps echo through his hall,
  And, on high columns rear’d, his lofty dome
  Proclaims the united art of Greece and Rome. 
  What though whole hecatombs his crew regale,
  And each dependant slumbers o’er his ale,
  While the remains, through mouths unnumber’d pass’d,
  Indulge the beggar and the dogs at last: 
  Say, friend, is it benevolence of soul,
  Or pompous vanity, that prompts the whole? 140
  These sons of sloth, who by profusion thrive,
  His pride inveigled from the public hive: 
  And numbers pine in solitary woe,
  Who furnish’d out this phantasy of show. 
  When silent misery assail’d his eyes,
  Did e’er his throbbing bosom sympathise? 
  Or his extensive charity pervade
  To those who languish in the barren shade,
  Where oft, by want and modesty suppress’d,
  The bootless talent warms the lonely breast? 150
  No! petrified by dulness and disdain,
  Beyond the feeling of another’s pain,
  The tear of pity ne’er bedew d his eye,
  Nor his lewd bosom felt the social sigh!

  FRIEND.

  Alike to thee his virtue or his vice,
  If his hand liberal owns thy merit’s price.

POET.

Sooner in hopeless anguish would I mourn,
Than owe my fortune to the man I scorn! 
What new resource?

FRIEND.

                       A thousand yet remain,
  That bloom with honours, or that teem with gain:  160
  These arts—­are they beneath—­beyond thy care? 
  Devote thy studies to the auspicious fair: 
  Of truth divested, let thy tongue supply
  The hinted slander, and the whisper’d lie;
  All merit mock, all qualities depress,
  Save those that grace the excelling patroness;
  Trophies to her on others’ follies raise,
  And, heard with joy, by defamation praise;
  To this collect each faculty of face,
  And every feat perform of sly grimace; 170
  Let the grave sneer sarcastic speak thee shrewd;
  The smutty joke ridiculously lewd;
  And the loud laugh, through all its changes rung,
  Applaud the abortive sallies of her tongue;
  Enroll’d a member in the sacred list,
  Soon shalt thou sharp in company at whist;
  Her midnight rites and revels regulate,
  Priest of her love, and demon of her hate.

  POET.