AMBITION, hence, exerts a doubtful force,
Of blots, and beauties, an alternate source;
Hence GILDON rails, that raven of the pit,
Who thrives upon the carcases of wit;
And in art-loving SCARBOROUGH is seen
How kind a pattern POLLIO might have been.
Pursuit of fame with pedants fills our schools,
And into corcombs burnishes our fools;
Pursuit of fame makes solid learning bright,
And NEWTON lifts above a mortal height;
That key of nature, by whose wit she clears
Her long, long secrets of five thousand years.

Would you then fully comprehend the whole,
Why, and in what degrees, pride sways the soul?
(For though in all, not equally, she reigns)
Awake to knowledge, and attend my strains.
Ye doctors! hear the doctrine I disclose,
As true, as if 'twere writ in dullest prose;
As if a letter'd dunce had said, ""Tis right,"
And imprimatur usher'd it to light.

AMBITION, in the truly noble mind,

With Sister-virtue is for ever join'd;

As in fam'd LUCRECE, who, with equal dread,
From guilt,and shame, by her last conduct, fled:
Her virtue long rebell'd in firm disdain,
And the sword pointed at her heart in vain;
But, when the slave was threaten'd to be laid
Dead by her side, her Love of Fame obey'd.
In meaner minds ambition works alone;
But with such art puts virtue's aspect on,

That not more like in feature and in mien,
*The god and mortal in the comic scene.
False JULIUS, ambush'd in this fair disguise,
Soon made the Roman liberties his prize.

No mask in basest minds ambition wears,
But in full light pricks up her ass's ears:
All I have sung are instances of this,
And prove my theme unfolded not amiss.
Ye vain! desist from your erroneous strife;
Be wise, and quit the false sublime of life,
The true ambition there alone resides,
Where justice vindicates, and wisdom guides;
Where inward dignity joins outward state;
Our purpose good, as our atchievement great;
Where public blessings public praise attend ;
Where glory is our motive, not our end.

Would'st thou be fam'd? Have those high deeds in view
Brave men would act, though scandal should ensue.
Behold a Prince ! whom no swoln thoughts inflame;
No pride of thrones, no fever after Fame!
But when the welfare of mankind inspires,
And death in view to dear-bought glory fires,
Proud conquests then, then regal pomps delight;
Then crowns, then triumphs, sparkle in his sight;
Tumult and noise are dear, which with them bring
His people's blessings to their ardent king:
But, when those great heroic motives cease,
His swelling soul subsides to native peace;

* AMPHITR YON.

From tedious grandeur's faded charms withdraws,
A sudden foe to splendor and applause;
Greatly deferring his arrears of fame,

Till men and angels jointly shout his name.
O pride celestial! which can pride disdain;
O'blest ambition! which can ne'er be vain.
From one fam'd Alpine hill, which props the sky,
In whose deep womb unfathom❜d waters lie,
Here burst the Rhone, and sounding Po; there shine,
In infant rills, the Danube and the Rhine;
From the rich store one fruitful urn supplies,

Whole kingdoms smile, a thousand harvests rise,
IN BRUNSWICK such a source the Muse adores,
Which public blessings thro' half Europe pours.
When his heart burns with such a godlike aim,
Angels and GEORGE are rivals for the fame
GEORGE! Who in foes can soft affections raise,
And charm envenom'd Satire into praise.

* Nor human rage alone his pow'r perceives, But the mad winds, and the tumultuous waves. Ev'n storms (death's fiercest ministers !) forbear, And, in their own wild empire, learn to spare. Thus, nature's self, supporting man's decree, Stiles Britain's sovereign, sovereign of the sea. While sea and air, great BRUNSWICK! shook our State, And sported with a king's and kingdom's fate, Depriv'd of what she lov'd, and press'd by fear, Of ever losing what she held most dear,

*The king in danger by sea.

How did BRITANNIA, like * ACHILLES, weep,
And tell her sorrows to the kindred deep!

Hang o'er the floods, and, in devotion warm,
Strive, for Thee, with the surge, and fight the storm!
What felt thy WALPOLE, pilot of the realm!
Our PALINURUs † slept not at the helm ;
His eye ne'er clos'd; long since enur'd to wake,
And out-watch ev'ry star for BRUNSWICK's sake:
By thwarting passions tost, by cares opprest,
He found the tempest pictur'd in his breast:
But, now, what joys that gloom of heart dispel,
No pow'rs of language—but his own, can tell;
His own, which nature and the graces form,
At will, to raise, or hush, the civil storm.

*HOм. Il. lib. I.

+ Ecce Deus ramum Lethæo rore madentem, &c. VIRG. lib. V.