The poetical works of Alexander Pope, ed. with notes and intr. memoir by A.W. Ward

PRAYER OF ST FRANCIS XAVIER.

[TRANSLATED from an Oratio a Sancto Xavierio composita, at the desire of a Catholic priest named Brown. Gentleman's Magazine, October, 1791, where the original is given commencing 'O Deus, ego amo te.']

HOU art my God, sole object of my love;

THO

Not for the hope of endless joys above;
Not for the fear of endless pains below,
Which they who love thee not must undergo.
For me, and such as me, thou deign'st to bear
An ignominious cross, the nails, the spear:
A thorny crown transpierc'd thy sacred brow,
While bloody sweats from ev'ry member flow.

For me in tortures thou resignd'st thy breath,

Embrac'd me on the cross, and sav'd me by thy death.
And can these sufferings fail my heart to move?
What but thyself can now deserve my love?

Such as then was, and is, thy love to me,
Such is, and shall be still, my love to thee-
To thee, Redeemer! mercy's sacred spring!
My God, my Father, Maker, and my King!

1 The price of prologues and of plays,] This alludes to a story Mr Southern told about the same, to Mr P. and Mr W. of Dryden; who, when Southern first wrote for the stage, was so famous for his Prologues, that the players would act nothing without that decoration. His usual price till then had been four guineas: But when Southern came to him for the Prologue he had bespoke, Dryden told him he must have six guineas for it; "which (said he) young man, is out of no disrespect to you, but the Players have

had my goods too cheap." Warburton. [This was the regular tariff for prologues and epilogues. Later, Southern could tell Dryden (according to Warton) that he had cleared £700 by a single play, while Dryden never made more than a seventh of that sum by one drama.]

2 [Bishop of Worcester. Deprived by James II. of the Presidentship of Magdalene College, Oxford; he afterwards successively held several sees, and died in 1743.]

1740.

A POEM.

[THIS unfinished piece was communicated to Warton by Dr Wilson, formerly Fellow and Librarian of Trinity College, Dublin, to whom it had been lent by a grandson of Lord Chetwynd, 'an intimate friend of the famous Lord Bolingbroke, who gratified his curiosity by a box full of the rubbish and sweepings of Pope's study, whose executor he was, in conjunction with Lord Marchmont.' It is possible that Bowles' conjecture may be correct, according to which '1740' was to grow into the third Dialogue which Pope at one time intended to add to the Epilogue to the Satires. See the Verses on receiving from Lady Frances Shirley a Standish, &c. ante, p. 448]. Roscoe doubts whether so mediocre a production be Pope's: Carruthers also hesitates on the subject; and the piece is at most to be taken as a few rough jottings accidentally discovered.]

WRETCHED B1! jealous now of all,

What God, what mortal, shall prevent thy fall?
Turn, turn thy eyes from wicked men in place,
And see what succour from the Patriot Race.

C-2, his own proud dupe, thinks Monarchs things
Made just for him, as other fools for Kings;
Controls, decides, insults thee every hour,
And antedates the hatred due to Pow'r.

Through Clouds of Passion P--'s3 views are clear,
He foams a Patriot to subside a peer;

Impatient sees his country bought and sold,

And damns the market where he takes no gold.
Grave, righteous S jogs on till, past belief,

He finds himself companion with a thief.

Is all the help stern S-5 would afford.

To purge and let thee blood, with fire and sword,

That those who bind and rob thee, would not kill,
Good C- 6 hopes, and candidly sits still.
Of Ch-s W- -7 who speaks at all,

No more than of Sir Har-y or Sir P

Whose names once up, they thought it was not wrong
To lie in bed, but sure they lay too long.
Gr10, Cm11, B-t12, pay thee due regards,
Unless the ladies bid them mind their cards.

must needs

Whose wit and

equally provoke one,

Finds thee, at best, the butt to crack his joke on.
As for the rest, each winter up they run,
And all are clear, that something must be done,
Then, urged by C- -t', or by C- -t stopp'd,
Inflam'd by P-2, and by P— dropp'd;
They follow rev'rently each wondrous wight,
Amaz'd that one can read, that one can write:
So geese to gander prone obedience keep,
Hiss, if he hiss, and if he slumber, sleep.
Till having done whate'er was fit or fine,

Utter'd a speech, and ask'd their friends to dine;
Each hurries back to his paternal ground,
Content but for five shillings in the pound;
Yearly defeated, yearly hopes they give,
And all agree, Sir Robert cannot live.
Rise, rise, great W- -3, fated to appear,
Spite of thyself, a glorious minister!
Speak the loud language Princes

And treat with half the

Tho' still he travels on no bad pretence,
To show.

Or those foul copies of thy face and tongue,
Veracious W- -6, and frontless Young7;
Sagacious Bubb8, so late a friend, and there
So late a foe, yet more sagacious H- _9?
Hervey and Hervey's school, F-, H- -y,
Yea, moral Ebor, or religious Winton11.
How! what can O- -w, what can D-

The wisdom of the one and other chair,
N- -13, laugh, or D-

Or thy dread truncheon,

-s14 sager,
M.'s mighty peer15?

H—n,

What help from J- -'s16 opiates canst thou draw,
Or H- -k's quibbles voted into law 17?
C. that Roman in his nose alone 18,

10 Fox, Henley, Hinton.

Bowles.

бо

11 Blackburn, Archbishop of York, and Hoadley, Bishop of Winchester. Bowles.

12 Speaker Onslow and Lord Delaware, chair. men of committees of House of Lords. Bowles. 13 Duke of Newcastle. Bowles.

14 Duke of Dorset. Bowles.

15 The (second)Duke of Marlborough. Bowles 16 Sir Joseph Jekyll. Bowles. Probably; but he died in 1738. Carruthers.

17 Lord Chancellor Hardwicke. Bowles.

18 Probably Sir John Cummins, C. J. of the Common Pleas. Bowles. Or Spencer Comple Lord Wilmington, President of the Council Carruthers.

1 Britain.

Who hears all causes, B1, but thy own,
Or those proud fools whom nature, rank, and fate
Made fit companions for the Sword of State.
Can the light packhorse, or the heavy steer,
The sousing Prelate, or the sweating Peer,
Drag out, with all its dirt and all its weight,
The lumb'ring carriage of thy broken State?
Alas! the people curse, the carman swears,
The drivers quarrel, and the master stares.

The plague is on thee, Britain, and who tries
To save thee, in th' infectious office, dies.
The first firm P--y3, soon resign'd his breath.
Brave Sw4 lov'd thee, and was lied to death.
Good M-m-t's fate tore P- -th from thy side,
And thy last sigh was heard, when W- -m died.
Thy nobles Sl-s, thy Se-s bought with gold,
Thy Clergy perjur'd, thy whole people sold.
An Atheist a "'s ad

Blotch thee all o'er, and sink