Dissembling Wretch! hence to the Stoic school,
And there amongst thy breth'ren play the fool,
There, unrebuk'd, these wild, vain doctrines preach;
Lives there a Man, whom SATIRE cannot reach?
Lives there a Man, who calmly can stand by,
And see his conscience ripp'd with steady eye?
When SATIRE flies abroad on Falshood's wing,
Short is her life indeed, and dull her sting;
But when to Truth allied, the wound she gives
Sinks deep, and to remotest ages lives.
When in the tomb thy pamper'd flesh shall rot,
And e'en by friends thy mem'ry be forgot,
Still shalt Thou live, recorded for thy crimes,
Live in her page, and stink to after-times.