View but the Realms of _Nonsence_, see the State, The Pageant pomp attends the show, When the great God of _Dullness_ does in triumph go, How splendid and how great His num'rous Train of Blockheads do appear? Almighty _Jove_, That governs all above, Is but a puny to this Mighty God, The blustring God of War, Who with one Nod Makes the Earth tremble from afar, Guarded with puissant Champions stern and bold That breath Destruction, talk of bloody Jars, Have nought but ragged Cloaths to keep off cold, And tatter'd Ensigns relicks of the Wars. The God of _Dullness_ mounted on his Throne Beneath a Canopy Of fix'd stupidity, Prostrate his num'rous Subjects tumble down, They pay obeisance to their gloomy God, And at his Nod They act, they move, They hate, they love, They bless, they curse, they swear, For they his Creatures are, He amply does his Benefits afford, For each confirmed Blockhead is a Lord. VII. Then talk no more of Parts and Sence, For Riches ne'r attend the Wise, Have you to dullness no pretence, You shall to Grandeur never rise; He with a gloomy mien Divinely dull, Whose very aspect tells the World he is a Fool, Whose thicker Skull Is proof against each storm of Fate, Is Born for Glory, and he shall be Great. Who 'ere wou'd rise, Or great Preferment get, Must nere pretend to Wit, Or be that monstrous, ill shap'd Man call'd Wise; He must not boast Of Learning's Value, or its cost; But, if he wou'd Preferment have, He must be much a _Fool_, or much a _Knave_. VIII. A _Knave_! the finer Creature far, Tho' of the foolish Race of _Issachar_. As the unwieldy _Bear_ among her young Deform'd, and shapeless Cubs, Finds one more strong, Active and sprightly than the rest: Him she transforms and rubs, And licks into a better shape the Beast. Thus do's the gloomy God of Folly do, With the insipid Race: He do's his num'rous Offspring call, } He handles one and feels his Skull; } If it be thick, he says, Be thou a Fool. } Another, if about his Face He spies a roguish Mein, a cunning Look; If there appears The hopes of Falshood in his tender Years, Good signs of Perjury And hardn'd Villany; This for his secret Councils he do's save, Lays on his Paw, and bids him, Be a _Knave_. IX.