O sordid maxim, form'd to screen the vile,
That true good-nature still must wear a smile!
In frowns array'd her beauties stronger rise,
When love of virtue wakes her scorn of vice:
Where justice calls, 'tis cruelty to save;
And 'tis the law's good-nature hangs the knave.
Who combats Virtue's foe is Virtue's friend;
Then judge of SATIRE'S merit by her end:
To guilt alone her vengeance stands confin'd,
The object of her love is all mankind.
Scarce more the friend of man, the wise must own,
Ev'n ALLEN'S bounteous hand, than SATIRE'S frown:
This to chastise, as that to bless, was giv'n;
Alike the faithful ministers of heav'n.