Something of man must be expos'd to view,
That, gallants, he may more resemble you.
Sir Fopling is a fool so nicely writ,

The ladies would mistake him for a wit,

And when he sings, talks loud, and cocks,* would cry, "I vow, methinks, he's pretty company;"

So brisk, so gay, so travell'd, so refin'd,

As he took pains to graff upon his kind.

True fops help Nature's work, and go to school,
To file and finish God Almighty's fool.
Yet none Sir Fopling him, or him, can call;
He's knight o' th' shire, and represents you all.
From each he meets he culls whate'er he can;
Legion's his name—a people in a man.
His bulky folly gathers as it goes,

And, rolling o'er you, like a snow-ball grows.
His various modes from various fathers follow;

One taught the toss, and one the new French wallow.
His sword-knot this, his cravat that design'd;

And this, the yard-long snake he twirls behind t
From one the sacred periwig he gain'd,

Which wind ne'er blew, nor touch of hat profan'd.

Another's diving bow he did adore,

Which, with a shog, casts all the hair before;
Till he with full decorum brings it back,

And rises with a water-spaniel shake.

As for his songs, the ladies' dear delight,

These sure he took from most of you who write.
Yet every man is safe from what he fear'd,

For no one fool is hunted from the herd.

THE CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT CLERGY.

From the "HIND AND THE PANTHER."

A plain good man whose name is understood
(So few deserve the name of plain and good)
Of three fair lineal lordships stood possess'd,
And liv'd, as reason was, upon the best.-

* Videlicet, his hat.

† I know not what he means by this.

James II.-Dryden was at this time a Catholic.

His house with all convenience was purvey'd

The rest he found, but rais'd the fabric where he pray'd.*
And in that sacred place his beauteous wife

Employ'd her happiest hours of holy life.

Nor did their alms extend to those alone,

Whom common faith more strictly made their own
A sort of Dovest were hous'd too near their hall,
Who cross the proverb, and abound in gall.
Though some, 't is true, are passively inclin'd,
The greater part degenerate from their kind;
Voracious birds, that hotly bill and breed,
And largely drink, because on salt they feed.
Small gain from them their bounteous owner draws;
Yet, bound by promise, he supports their cause,
As corporations privileg'd by laws.

Another farm he had behind his house,
Not overstock'd, but barely for his use.
Wherein his poor Domestic Poultry fed,
And from his pious hands receiv'd their bread.‡
Our pamper'd Pigeons, with malignant eyes,
Beheld these inmates and their nurseries:
Though hard their fare at evening and at morn
(A cruise of water and an ear of corn),1
Yet still they grudg'd that modicum, and thought
A sheaf in every single grain was brought:
Fain would they filch that little food away,
While unrestrain'd these happy gluttons prey;
And much they griev'd to see so nigh their hall,
The bird that warn'd St. Peter of his fall;2
That he should raise his mitred crest on high,
And clap his wings, and call his family
To sacred rites; and vex the Ethereal powers
With midnight matins at uncivil hours;
Nay more, his quiet neighbors should molest
Just in the sweetness of their morning rest.
Beast of a bird,3 supinely when he might
Lie still and sleep, to rise before the light.
What if his dull forefathers us'd that cry,
Could he not let a bad example die?

The world was fall'n into an easier way:

This age knew better than to fast and pray.

The Catholic chapel set up by James in Whitehall.

†The clergy of the Church of England. It is amusing to see them represented as living on the "alms" of the barely tolerated king.

The Catholic clergy maintained by the king.

Good sense in sacred worship would appear,
So to begin, as they might end the year.
Such feats in former times had wrought the falls
Of crowing chanticleers in cloister'd walls.
Expell'd for this, and for their lands, they fled;
And sister Partlet with her hooded head*

Was hooted hence because she would not pray a-bed.
The way to win the restiff world to God,

Was to lay by the disciplining rod,

Unnatural fasts, and foreign forms of prayer:

Religion frights us with a mien severe.
'T is prudence to reform her into ease,
And put her in undress, to make her please.

A lively faith will bear aloft the mind,

And leave the luggage of good works behind.

1 "A cruise of water and an ear of corn."-The ideal monastic

regimen! very different from that of monks in general.

2 "The bird that warn'd St. Peter of his fall."-This verse is from Spenser :

"The bird that warnèd Peter of his fall.”

Spenser, whom chance had put on the side of the Puritans (for no man would naturally have been more for a gorgeous creed than he), not unwillingly omitted the title of Saint to Peter. The Catholic Dryden as willingly availed himself of the abbreviated past tense to restore it. The reader may remember Sir Roger de Coverley's perplexity at the successive rebukes he received, when a little boy, from a Catholic for asking his way to " Marybone,” and from a Puritan for restoring the saint her title.

3

“Beast of a bird."-What a happy anomaly, and vigor of alliteration! How well it comes, too, after the fond pathos of the luxury of the line before it!

* The Nuns.

PHILIPS.

BORN, 1676-DIED, 1708.

JOHN PHILIPS was a young and lively writer, who, having succeeded in a burlesque, was unfortunately induced to attempt serious poetry, and devoted himself to it with a scholarly dulness which he would probably have seen the folly of in any one else. His serious imitations of Milton are not worth a penny; but his burlesque of the style of Paradise Lost, though it no longer possesses the novelty which made it popular, is still welcome to the lover of wit. The low every-day circumstances, and the lofty classic manner with its nomenclatures, are happily interwoven; the more trivial words are brought in with unlooked-for effect; the motto is particularly felicitous; and the comparison of the rent in the small-clothes with the ship that has sprung a leak at sea, and founders, concludes the poem with a tremendous and calamitous grandeur, only to be equalled by the exclamation of the Spaniard; who said he had torn his "breeches, as if heaven and earth had come together."

THE SPLENDID SHILLING.

"Sing, heavenly muse,

Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme;"
A shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire.

Happy the man, who, void of cares and strife,
In silken or in leathern purse retains

A Splendid Shilling: he nor hears with pain

New oysters cry'd, nor sighs for cheerful ale;
But with his friends, when nightly mists arise,
To Juniper's Magpye, or Town-hall repairs;
Where, mindful of the nymph, whose wanton eye
Transfix'd his soul, and kindled amorous flames,
Chloe or Phyllis, he each circling glass
Wisheth her health, and joy, and equal love.
Meanwhile, he smokes, and laughs at merry tale,
Or pun ambiguous or conundrum quaint.
But I, whom griping penury surrounds,
And hunger, sure attendant upon want,
With scanty offals, and small acid tiff
(Wretched repast!) my meagre corpse sustain :
Then solitary walk, or doze at home

In garret vile, and with a warming puff
Regale chill'd fingers; or from tube as black
As winter-chimney, or well polish'd jet,
Exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming scent.
Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size,
Smokes Cambro-Briton (vers'd in pedigree,
Sprung from Cadwallador and Arthur, kings
Full famous in romantic tale) when he
O'er many a craggy hill and barren cliff,
Upon a cargo of fam'd Cestrian cheese,
High over-shadowing rides, with a design
To wend his wares at the Arvonian mart,
Or Maridunum, or the ancient town
Yclep'd Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream
Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil!

Whence flow nectareous wines, that well may vie
With Massic, Setin, or renown'd Falern.

Thus, while my joyless minutes tedious flow, With looks demure, and silent pace, a Dun, Horrible monster! hated by gods and men, To my aërial citadel ascends.*

With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate, With hideous accent thrice he calls; I know The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound, What should I do? or whither turn? Amaz'd, Confounded, to the dark recess I fly

Of wood-hole; straight my bristling hairs erect Through sudden fear; a chilly sweat bedews My shuddering limbs, and (wonderful to tell!) My tongue forgets her faculty of speech;

*To-wit, his garret.