On which so great, so gross a charge to found? 300 Nay, dost thou know one man (let that appear, From wilful falsehood I'll proclaim thee clear), One man so lost, to nature so untrue, From whom this general charge thy rashness drew? On this foundation shalt thou stand or fall-- Prove that in one which you have charged on all. Reason determines, and it must be done; 'Mongst men, or past, or present, name me one. Hogarth,--I take thee, Candour, at thy word, Accept thy proffer'd terms, and will be heard; 310 Thee have I heard with virulence declaim, Nothing retain'd of Candour but the name; By thee have I been charged in angry strains With that mean falsehood which my soul disdains-- Hogarth, stand forth;--Nay, hang not thus aloof-- Now, Candour, now thou shalt receive such proof, Such damning proof, that henceforth thou shalt fear To tax my wrath, and own my conduct clear;-- Hogarth, stand forth--I dare thee to be tried In that great court where Conscience must preside; 320 At that most solemn bar hold up thy hand; Think before whom, on what account, you stand; Speak, but consider well;--from first to last Review thy life, weigh every action past; Nay, you shall have no reason to complain-- Take longer time, and view them o'er again. Canst thou remember from thy earliest youth, And as thy God must judge thee, speak the truth, A single instance where, self laid aside, And Justice taking place of Fear and Pride, 330 Thou with an equal eye didst Genius view, And give to Merit what was Merit's due? Genius and Merit are a sure offence, And thy soul sickens at the name of sense. Is any one so foolish to succeed? On Envy's altar he is doom'd to bleed. Hogarth, a guilty pleasure in his eyes, The place of executioner supplies: See how he gloats, enjoys the sacred feast, And proves himself by cruelty a priest! 340 Whilst the weak artist, to thy whims a slave, Would bury all those powers which Nature gave; Would suffer blank concealment to obscure Those rays thy jealousy could not endure; To feed thy vanity would rust unknown, And to secure thy credit, blast his own, In Hogarth he was sure to find a friend; He could not fear, and therefore might commend. But when his spirit, roused by honest shame, Shook off that lethargy, and soar'd to fame; 350 When, with the pride of man, resolved and strong, He scorn'd those fears which did his honour wrong, And, on himself determined to rely, Brought forth his labours to the public eye, No friend in thee could such a rebel know; He had desert, and Hogarth was his foe. Souls of a timorous cast, of petty name In Envy's court, not yet quite dead to shame, May some remorse, some qualms of conscience feel, And suffer honour to abate their zeal; 360 But the man truly and completely great, Allows no rule of action but his hate; Through every bar he bravely breaks his way,