Bold is the attempt, in these licentious times, When with such towering strides sedition climbs, With sense or satire to confront her power, And charge her in the great decisive hour. Bold is the man, who, on her conquering day, Stands in the pass of fate to bar her way: Whose heart, by frowning arrogance unawed, Or the deep-lurking snares of specious fraud, The threats of giant-faction can deride, And stem with stubborn arm her roaring tide. 10 For him unnumber'd brooding ills await, Scorn, malice, insolence, reproach, and hate: At him, who dares this legion to defy, A thousand mortal shafts in secret fly: Revenge, exulting with malignant joy, Pursues the incautious victim to destroy: And slander strives, with unrelenting aim, To spit her blasting venom on his name: Around him faction's harpies flap their wings, And rhyming vermin dart their feeble stings: 20 In vain the wretch retreats, while in full cry Fierce on his throat the hungry bloodhounds fly. Enclosed with perils, thus the conscious Muse, Alarm'd, though undismay'd, her danger views. Nor shall unmanly Terror now control The strong resentment struggling in her soul. While Indignation, with resistless strain, Pours her full deluge through each swelling vein; By the vile fear that chills the coward breast, By sordid caution is her voice suppress'd. 30 While Arrogance, with big theatric rage, Audacious struts on power's imperial stage; While o'er our country, at her dread command, Black Discord, screaming, shakes her fatal brand; While, in defiance of maternal laws, The sacrilegious sword rebellion draws: Shall she at this important hour retire, And quench in Lethe's wave her genuine fire? Honour forbid! she fears no threat'ning foe, When conscious justice bids her bosom glow: 40 And while she kindles the reluctant flame, Let not the prudent voice of friendship blame! She feels the sting of keen resentment goad, Though guiltless yet of satire's thorny road. Let other Quixotes, frantic with renown, Plant on their brows a tawdry paper crown! While fools adore, and vassal-bards obey, Let the great monarch ass through Gotham bray! Our poet brandishes no mimic sword, To rule a realm of dunces self-explored; 50 No bleeding victims curse his iron sway; Nor murder'd reputation marks his way. True to herself, unarm'd, the fearless Muse Through reason's path her steady course pursues: True to herself advances, undeterr'd By the rude clamours of the savage herd. As some bold surgeon, with inserted steel, Probes deep the putrid sore, intent to heal; So the rank ulcers that our patriot load, Shall she with caustic's healing fires corrode. 60 Yet ere from patient slumber satire wakes, And brandishes the avenging scourge of snakes; Yet ere her eyes, with lightning's vivid ray,