Oldham's principal celebrity, however, is derived from his satires. He had the knack of stinging invective, and has been not unjustly compared to Churchill. His _Satires on the Jesuits_ exactly suited the time of the Popish Plot, at present they repel by their one-sidedness. All satire, except that inspired by fancy, is apt to become repulsive by its natural tendency to dwell upon the meanest and lowest aspects of human nature; and this is pre-eminently the case with Oldham, who is always ridiculing or denouncing, always drawing his illustrations from the base and offensive, and seldom diversifies his low matter with an ennobling thought. Yet he evinces so much manly sense, and his style is so nervous, that it is impossible not to admire his vigour, and wish him a more inviting subject. His metre and rhyme frequently stand in need of Dryden's generous apology: 'O early ripe! to thy abundant store What could advancing age have added more? It might, what Nature never gives the young, Have taught the smoothness of thy native tongue. But satire needs not these, and wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.' All this notwithstanding, Oldham had the root of the matter in him, and has described, as only a poet could, the ambition, the toil, and the triumph of a poet: ''Tis endless, Sir, to tell the many ways Wherein my poor deluded self I please: How, when the fancy lab'ring for a birth, With unfelt throes, brings its rude issue forth: How, after, when imperfect, shapeless thought Is, by the judgment, into fashion wrought: When at first search, I traverse o'er my mind, None, but a dark and empty void I find: Some little hints, at length, like sparks break thence, And glimm'ring thoughts, just dawning into sense: Confus'd, awhile, the mixt ideas lie With nought of mark to be discover'd by; Like colours undistinguish'd in the night, Till the dusk images mov'd to the light, Teach the discerning faculty to choose, Which it had best adopt, and which refuse. Here rougher strokes, touch'd with a careless dash, Resemble the first setting of a face: There finish'd draughts in form more full appear, And in their justness ask no further care, Meanwhile, with inward joy, I proud am grown, To see the work successfully go on; And prize myself in a creating-power, That could make something, what was nought before. Sometimes a stiff unwieldy thought I meet, Which to my laws, will scarce be made submit: But when, after expense of pains and time, 'Tis manag'd well, and taught to yoke in rhime, In triumph, more than joyful warriors would, Had they some stout and hardy foe subdu'd: And idly think, less goes to their command, That makes arm'd troops in well-placed order stand, Than to the conduct of my words, when they March in due ranks, are set in just array.