If there be truth in what you sing, Such godlike virtues in the king; A minister[1] so fill'd with zeal And wisdom for the commonweal; If he[2] who in the chair presides, So steadily the senate guides; If others, whom you make your theme, Are seconds in the glorious scheme; If every peer whom you commend, To worth and learning be a friend; If this be truth, as you attest, What land was ever half so blest! No falsehood now among the great, And tradesmen now no longer cheat: Now on the bench fair Justice shines; Her scale to neither side inclines: Now Pride and Cruelty are flown, And Mercy here exalts her throne; For such is good example's power, It does its office every hour, Where governors are good and wise; Or else the truest maxim lies: For so we find all ancient sages Decree, that, _ad exemplum regis_, Through all the realm his virtues run, Ripening and kindling like the sun. If this be true, then how much more When you have named at least a score Of courtiers, each in their degree, If possible, as good as he? Or take it in a different view. I ask (if what you say be true) If you affirm the present age Deserves your satire's keenest rage; If that same universal passion With every vice has fill'd the nation: If virtue dares not venture down A single step beneath the crown: If clergymen, to show their wit, Praise classics more than holy writ: If bankrupts, when they are undone, Into the senate-house can run, And sell their votes at such a rate, As will retrieve a lost estate: If law be such a partial whore, To spare the rich, and plague the poor: If these be of all crimes the worst, What land was ever half so curst? [Footnote 1: Sir Robert Walpole, afterwards Earl of Orford. Young's seventh satire is inscribed to him.--_Scott_.] [Footnote 2: Sir Spencer Compton, then Speaker, afterwards Earl of Wilmington, to whom the eighth satire is dedicated. See vol. i, 219.--_W. E. B._] THE DOG AND THIEF. 1726 Quoth the thief to the dog, let me into your door And I'll give you these delicate bits. Quoth the dog, I shall then be more villain than you're, And besides must be out of my wits. Your delicate bits will not serve me a meal, But my master each day gives me bread; You'll fly, when you get what you came here to steal, And I must be hang'd in your stead. The stockjobber thus from 'Change Alley goes down, And tips you the freeman a wink; Let me have but your vote to serve for the town, And here is a guinea to drink. Says the freeman, your guinea to-night would be spent! Your offers of bribery cease: I'll vote for my landlord to whom I pay rent, Or else I may forfeit my lease. From London they come, silly people to chouse, Their lands and their faces unknown: Who'd vote a rogue into the parliament-house, That would turn a man out of his own? A DIALOGUE[1] BETWEEN MAD MULLINIX AND TIMOTHY 1728