Passion his principle, and parts his prey. Mediums in vice and virtue speak a mind Within the pale of temperance confined; The daring spirit scorns her narrow schemes, And, good or bad, is always in extremes. Man's practice duly weigh'd, through every age On the same plan hath Envy form'd her rage, 370 'Gainst those whom fortune hath our rivals made, In way of science, and in way of trade: Stung with mean jealousy she arms her spite, First works, then views their ruin with delight. Our Hogarth here a grand improver shines, And nobly on the general plan refines; He like himself o'erleaps the servile bound; Worth is his mark, wherever worth is found. Should painters only his vast wrath suffice? Genius in every walk is lawful prize: 380 'Tis a gross insult to his o'ergrown state; His love to merit is to feel his hate. When Wilkes, our countryman, our common friend, Arose, his king, his country to defend; When tools of power he bared to public view, And from their holes the sneaking cowards drew; When Rancour found it far beyond her reach To soil his honour, and his truth impeach; What could induce thee, at a time and place Where manly foes had blush'd to show their face, 390 To make that effort which must damn thy name, And sink thee deep, deep in thy grave with shame? Did virtue move thee? No; 'twas pride, rank pride, And if thou hadst not done it, thou hadst died. Malice (who, disappointed of her end, Whether to work the bane of foe or friend, Preys on herself, and, driven to the stake, Gives Virtue that revenge she scorns to take) Had kill'd thee, tottering on life's utmost verge, Had Wilkes and Liberty escaped thy scourge. 400 When that Great Charter, which our fathers bought With their best blood, was into question brought; When, big with ruin, o'er each English head Vile Slavery hung suspended by a thread; When Liberty, all trembling and aghast, Fear'd for the future, knowing what was past; When every breast was chill'd with deep despair, Till Reason pointed out that Pratt[129] was there;-- Lurking, most ruffian-like, behind the screen, So placed all things to see, himself unseen, 410 Virtue, with due contempt, saw Hogarth stand, The murderous pencil in his palsied hand. What was the cause of Liberty to him, Or what was Honour? let them sink or swim, So he may gratify, without control, The mean resentments of his selfish soul; Let Freedom perish, if, to Freedom true, In the same ruin Wilkes may perish too. With all the symptoms of assured decay, With age and sickness pinch'd and worn away, 420 Pale quivering lips, lank cheeks, and faltering tongue, The spirits out of tune, the nerves unstrung, Thy body shrivell'd up, thy dim eyes sunk Within their sockets deep, thy weak hams shrunk, The body's weight unable to sustain, The stream of life scarce trembling through the vein,