A cripple with one foot too short; Or like a bridge, that joins a marish To moorlands of a different parish. So have I seen ill-coupled hounds Drag different ways in miry grounds. So geographers, in Afric maps, With savage pictures fill their gaps, And o'er unhabitable downs Place elephants for want of towns. But, though you miss your third essay, You need not throw your pen away. Lay now aside all thoughts of fame, To spring more profitable game. From party merit seek support; The vilest verse thrives best at court. And may you ever have the luck To rhyme almost as ill as Duck;[6] And, though you never learn'd to scan verse Come out with some lampoon on D'Anvers. A pamphlet in Sir Bob's defence Will never fail to bring in pence: Nor be concern'd about the sale, He pays his workmen on the nail.[7] Display the blessings of the nation, And praise the whole administration. Extol the bench of bishops round, Who at them rail, bid ---- confound; To bishop-haters answer thus: (The only logic used by us) What though they don't believe in ---- Deny them Protestants--thou lyest. A prince, the moment he is crown'd, Inherits every virtue round, As emblems of the sovereign power, Like other baubles in the Tower; Is generous, valiant, just, and wise, And so continues till he dies: His humble senate this professes, In all their speeches, votes, addresses. But once you fix him in a tomb, His virtues fade, his vices bloom; And each perfection, wrong imputed, Is fully at his death confuted. The loads of poems in his praise, Ascending, make one funeral blaze: His panegyrics then are ceased, He grows a tyrant, dunce, or beast. As soon as you can hear his knell, This god on earth turns devil in hell: And lo! his ministers of state, Transform'd to imps, his levee wait; Where in the scenes of endless woe, They ply their former arts below; And as they sail in Charon's boat, Contrive to bribe the judge's vote; To Cerberus they give a sop, His triple barking mouth to stop; Or, in the ivory gate of dreams,[8] Project excise and South-Sea[9] schemes; Or hire their party pamphleteers To set Elysium by the ears. Then, poet, if you mean to thrive, Employ your muse on kings alive; With prudence gathering up a cluster Of all the virtues you can muster, Which, form'd into a garland sweet, Lay humbly at your monarch's feet: Who, as the odours reach his throne, Will smile, and think them all his own; For law and gospel both determine All virtues lodge in royal ermine: I mean the oracles of both, Who shall depose it upon oath. Your garland, in the following reign, Change but the names, will do again. But, if you think this trade too base, (Which seldom is the dunce's case) Put on the critic's brow, and sit At Will's, the puny judge of wit. A nod, a shrug, a scornful smile, With caution used, may serve a while. Proceed no further in your part, Before you learn the terms of art; For you can never be too far gone In all our modern critics' jargon: