In all his glory match'd with Pope and spleen; Himself he stripp'd, the harder blow to hit, Then boldly match'd his ribaldry with wit; The poet's conquest truth and time proclaim, But yet the battle hurt his peace and fame. "Strive not too much for favour; seem at ease. And rather please thyself, than bent to please: Upon thy lord with decent care attend, But not too near; thou canst not be a friend; And favourite be not, 'tis a dangerous post - Is gain'd by labour, and by fortune lost: Talents like thine may make a man approved, But other talents trusted and beloved. Look round, my son, and thou wilt early see The kind of man thou art not form'd to be. "The real favourites of the great are they Who to their views and wants attention pay, And pay it ever; who, with all their skill, Dive to the heart, and learn the secret will; If that be vicious, soon can they provide The favourite ill, and o'er the soul preside, For vice is weakness, and the artful know Their power increases as the passions grow; If indolent the pupil, hard their task; Such minds will ever for amusement ask; And great the labour! for a man to choose Objects for one whom nothing can amuse; For ere those objects can the soul delight, They must to joy the soul herself excite; Therefore it is, this patient, watchful kind With gentle friction stir the drowsy mind: Fix'd on their end, with caution they proceed, And sometimes give, and sometimes take the lead; Will now a hint convey, and then retire, And let the spark awake the lingering fire; Or seek new joys, and livelier pleasures bring To give the jaded sense a quick'ning spring. "These arts, indeed, my son must not pursue; Nor must he quarrel with the tribe that do: It is not safe another's crimes to know, Nor is it wise our proper worth to show: - 'My lord,' you say, 'engaged me for that worth;' - True, and preserve it ready to come forth: If questioned, fairly answer,--and that done, Shrink back, be silent, and thy father's son; For they who doubt thy talents scorn thy boast, But they who grant them will dislike thee most: Observe the prudent; they in silence sit, Display no learning, and affect no wit; They hazard nothing, nothing they assume, But know the useful art of acting dumb. Yet to their eyes each varying look appears, And every word finds entrance at their ears. "Thou art Religion's advocate--take heed, Hurt not the cause, thy pleasure 'tis to plead; With wine before thee, and with wits beside, Do not in strength of reasoning powers confide; What seems to thee convincing, certain, plain, They will deny, and dare thee to maintain; And thus will triumph o'er thy eager youth, While thou wilt grieve for so disgracing truth. With pain I've seen, these wrangling wits among, Faith's weak defenders, passionate and young; Weak thou art not, yet not enough on guard, Where wit and humour keep their watch and ward: Men gay and noisy will o'erwhelm thy sense, Then loudly laugh at truth's and thy expense;