With B's upon their breast, appointed for his guard.} He came, and, crowned with great solemnity, God save king Buzzard! was the general cry. A portly prince, and goodly to the sight, He seemed a son of Anach for his height: Like those whom stature did to crowns prefer, Black-browed, and bluff, like Homer's Jupiter; Broad-backed, and brawny-built for love's delight, A prophet formed to make a female proselyte;[249] A theologue more by need than genial bent, By breeding sharp, by nature confident. Interest in all his actions was discerned; More learned than honest, more a wit than learned; Or forced by fear, or by his profit led, Or both conjoined, his native clime he fled; But brought the virtues of his heaven along, A fair behaviour, and a fluent tongue. And yet with all his arts he could not thrive, The most unlucky parasite alive; Loud praises to prepare his paths he sent, And then himself pursued his compliment; But by reverse of fortune chased away, His gifts no longer than their author stay; He shakes the dust against the ungrateful race, And leaves the stench of ordures in the place. Oft has he flattered and blasphemed the same; For in his rage he spares no sovereign's name: The hero and the tyrant change their style, By the same measure that they frown or smile.[250] When well received by hospitable foes, The kindness he returns, is to expose; For courtesies, though undeserved and great, } No gratitude in felon-minds beget; } As tribute to his wit, the churl receives the treat.} His praise of foes is venomously nice; } So touched, it turns a virtue to a vice;[251] } "A Greek, and bountiful, forewarns us twice."[252]} Seven sacraments he wisely does disown, Because he knows confession stands for one; Where sins to sacred silence are conveyed, And not for fear, or love, to be betrayed: But he, uncalled, his patron to controul, Divulged the secret whispers of his soul; Stood forth the accusing Satan of his crimes, And offered to the Moloch of the times.[253] Prompt to assail, and careless of defence, Invulnerable in his impudence, He dares the world; and, eager of a name, He thrusts about, and jostles into fame. Frontless, and satire-proof, he scowers the streets, And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets.[254] So fond of loud report, that, not to miss } Of being known, (his last and utmost bliss,)} He rather would be known for what he is. } Such was, and is, the Captain of the Test,[255]} Though half his virtues are not here expressed; } The modesty of fame conceals the rest. } The spleenful Pigeons never could create A prince more proper to revenge their hate; Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save;