EPISTLES

SATIRICAL AND PRECEPTIVE.

EPISTLE I.

AN

ESSAY ON SATIRE,

OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF MR. POPE.

INSCRIBED TO

THE REV. MR. WARBURTON,
[Late Bishop of Gloucester.]

BY JOHN BROWN, D.D.

O while along the stream of Time thy Name
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame;
Say, shall my little barque attendant sail,
Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?

PARTI.

FATE
gave the word; the cruel arrow sped;
And POPE lies number'd with the mighty dead!
Resign'd he fell; superior to the dart,

That quench'd its rage in YoUR's and BRITAIN'S

heart:

You mourn: But BRITAIN, lull'd in rest profound,
(Unconscious Britain !) slumbers o'er her wound.
Exulting Dulness ey'd the setting light,
And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the night:

Rous'd at the signal, Guilt collects her train,
And counts the triumphs of her growing reign:
With inextinguishable rage they burn,
And snake-hung Envy hisses o'er his urn:
Th' envenom'd monsters spit their deadly foam,
To blast the laurel that surrounds his tomb.

But You, O WARBURTON! whose eye refin'd
Can see the greatness of an honest mind;
Can see each virtue and each grace unite,
And taste the raptures of a pure delight;
You visit oft' his awful page with care,
And view that bright assemblage treasur'd there;
You trace the chain that links his deep design,
And pour new lustre on the glowing line.
Yet deign to hear the efforts of a Muse,
Whose eye, not wing, his ardent flight pursues;
Intent from this great archetype to draw

SATIRE'S bright form, and fix her equal law;
Pleas'd if from hence th' unlearn'd may comprehend,
And rev'rence HIS and SATIRE's generous end.

In every breast there burns an active flame, The love of glory, or the dread of shame : The passion ONE, though various it appear, As brighten'd into hope, or dimm'd by fear. The lisping infant, and the hoary sire,

And youth and manhood feel the heart-born fire;
The charms of praise the coy, the modest woo
And only fly that glory may pursue :