6 LOVE of FA ME, Sat. I.

The courtly * Roman's shining path to tread.

And sharply smile prevailing Folly dead ?

Will no superior Genius snatch the quill,

And save me, on the brink, from writing ill?Tho’ vain the strife, I'll strive my voice to raise.What will not men attempt for sacred praise?

The love of praise, howe’er conceal’d by art,

Reigns more, or less, and glows in every heart:

The proud to gain it toils on toils endure,

The modest shun it, but to make it sure. __ „

J [swells,

O’er globes, and scepters, now, on Thrones itNow, trims the midnight lamp in College-cells.’TisTory, Whig; it plots, prays, preaches, pleads,Harangues in Senates, squeaks in Masquerades.

Here, to S - e's humour makes a bold pretence;

There, bolder aims at T -jy’s eloquence .

* Horace,

It