(1)
England's Late Jury:
A
SATYR.
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WISELY an Observator said
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(Who knew our State full well)
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England need never be afraid,
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Or seek out for a Foreign Aid,
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Our Dangers to Repel.
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But then he never did suppose
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Our Army near so small;
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Or Statesmen to oblige their Foes,
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Should with seven Thousand wipe our Nose:
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A Force like none at all.
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This Vote made Lewis give a Smile
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And Laugh within his Sleeve;
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Scarce did he Credit it a while,
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Brittain shou'd for his Glory toil,
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Which now he does believe.
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But when again such Men were chose
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As did our Force Disband;
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He found our Ruine follow'd close,
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And had no Reason to oppose,
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Such as went Hand in Hand.
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S---m---r forgets he was a Slave,
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When in his Younger years,
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He was the Sp---r and a K---;
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And not so much inclin'd to Save,
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Or think upon our Fears.
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But then there lay a Patent by
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To Gratifie his Pride;
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On which he often cast an Eye,
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And on the Stop did wonder why
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Totness was not supplyed.
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Resenting an Affront like this,
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He forthwith veers about,
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Mad that he did Preferment miss,
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(A Feather fit for Pride like his)
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And Courts the fickle Rout.
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But his Designs are understood,
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The matter's very plain:
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Pretending for his Countreys good,
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He since has acted all he cou'd,
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To keep his Prince in Pain.
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For a long time he he cou'd not Swear,
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With a nice Conscience bred;
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Nor take an Oath against an Heir,
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That to a Monarrh did Repair,
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At least till he was Dead.
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But when All-Conquering Gold was brought,
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Which Glisten'd in his Eyes;
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Quickly a Miracle was wrought,
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(Exeter knows it was no Fault)
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They that have Wealth are Wise.
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M---s---ve has Parts, and Eloquence,
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And others say speaks well,
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Tho' Young Kit met a Recompence,
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To bring his Father to his Sense,
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Spight did the Guilt Repel.
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Nothing can Bias stout Sir Kit,
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Civility is Vain,
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For he must Exercise his Wit,
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And sometimes did at Random hit,
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Which Credit did obtain.
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H---r---rt pretends unto the Law,
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And makes a fearful din;
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As little Sense as e'er I saw,
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His Judgement brittle as a Straw,
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And oftner out than in.
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F---n---ch, he has Sense and Rethorick,
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And seems of S---m---rs Kidney.
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His Lungs do to the Quarrel stick,
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And once was very Politick,
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And some think hard on Sidney.
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H---m---nd, he runs among the Herd;
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Is Violent and Strong;
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Wou'd fain seem Grave without a Beard:
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But he needs never to be feard.
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His Judgement is too Young.
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Jack H--- sets up for one of Sense,
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Does for a Patriot stand.
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Most wonder at his Impudence!
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That he thereto should lay Pretence,
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Who was the Courts Disband.
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He who was reckon'd the Buffoon,
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In former Parliaments.
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Fickle and Changing, like the Moon;
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Till French Gold came he was undone,
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Now Vents his Discontents.
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But most Men wonder that Sir Batt
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So Eager is to rail:
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Yet why should we admire at that?
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Since his Profession is to chat,
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But seldom does prevail.
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(2)
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Some (he had heard) by Speeches rise,
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And to Preferment leap;
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But such had Merit, and were Wise,
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And did not Foreigners despise,
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Nor after Faction creep.
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Never for Rebells did Harrangue,
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Nor Tenter-Hook the Law;
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But left the Criminal to Hang,
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one Foot did the other bang,
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To keep Mankind in Awe.
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The Fam'd Civilian who can write;
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Of Parliamental Power,
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If he has Judgment he has Spite,
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And goes beyond the matter quite,
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A sort of second SHOWER.
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Upon Records he spends his Ink,
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He Writes at such a Rate:
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To prove what few did ever think,
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Unless depriv'd of Sense in Drink,
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Yet of a Plodding Pate,
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Gr---nv---le, he Stroles unto the Fairs
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To get himself Renown;
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Yet for this Faction he declares,
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And to their Club at Night Repairs,
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To Regulate the Crown.
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The times are likely sure to mend.
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When Pr---r Rules the State;
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Pr---r the Noble DORSETS Friend
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(For whom the Learned World Contend)
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Justly deserves his Hate.
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Bl---hw---t, with Proud Imperious Face,
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And Forehead made of Brass;
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Forgets the Honour of his Place;
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Does all true Policy Disgrace,
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And for a Fool may pass.
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P---w---s, shall Marshal up the Rear,
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With Rethorick Debate;
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And tho' good Natur'd he appear,
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Yet all his Services will steer
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To undermine the State.
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These are the Jury which were struck.
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To try Britanias Claim:
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And how cou'd we expect good Luck,
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From such as did with LEWIS truck,
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To their Eternal Shame-
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OThers below the Dignity of Rhime,
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Shall 'scape my Satyr till another time.
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Twellve Men like these, a Nation might undo,
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And let 'em, if again we trust 'em, too.
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No, no, fair Britain, at her Wrongs awakes:
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Finds what ye mean, and other methods takes.
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Your Popularity at last Expires,
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And Men of better Tempers she requires:
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Dispis'd at home, mutter your Discontent,
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And know the Nation spoke her mind by KENT.
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