Now with attention let each lip be seal’d, To hear thy playful speech, sagacious Heald.[39] While mirth and laughter on thy steps attend, The gravest audience must perforce unbend. Of lazy turn, thy facts are seldom true, Or widely varied from their proper hue; Not by design, to make a stronger base For disquisition--but unknown thy case. Tho’ oft corrected, still thou hast the knack To send each weapon of derision back; To scorn the sneer, that others’ lips would close, And hurl it doubly pointed on thy foes. If just thy statement, then the case is right; If false, it shines in more perspicuous light. Thy ready tongue so shifts the point along, That, come what will, thou never can’st be wrong. Conviction bends with half persuaded ear, And sad opponents quake in hopeless fear. ’Tis said, of riches thou art far from nude, And that the law for pastime is pursued;-- If so, retain thy briefs, but spurn the gold, For which thy better service must be sold. For conscience’ sake each fee should be returned.-- Ill can’st thou keep what is so idly earned! Hah! art thou deaf? then try the Thespian plank, And play to gaping crowds the mountebank! The muse indignant spurns thee from a place, Where theft is infamy, and sloth disgrace. Now Treslove comes--a man, whose plodding ways Shew nought for censure, and no more for praise. He speaks sometimes with more than common fire, But little feeling can his words inspire; No bright distinction ever can he reach While calm indifference listens to his speech. The road to fame he slowly trots along, Now first, now last amid the vulgar throng; Like some hot steed, who gains perhaps the start, But perfect bottom having not at heart, He drops at last, however urged his pace, And scarce can save his distance in the race. Next Rose and Bickersteth their names display; The last sedate, the first perhaps too gay. This in astuteness, that excells in sense, Matur’d by thought, and labour more intense. The one with head erect and measur’d stride, The pink of glory, and the pearl of pride;-- Seems as ambitious of a taller form, Or sick of herding with each brother worm. That dormant eye and inexpressive cheek But little promise in the other speak,-- In fact not much has either to admire, Tho’ each may hope to set the Thames on fire. If little Rose can make the waters blaze, Be mine the wonder, and be his the praise. Should plodding Bickersteth obtain the start, His head is deeper than his looks impart.