I shall here present the Reader with a valuable Literary Curiosity, a Fragment of an unpublished Satire of Pope, entitled, ONE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND FORTY; communicated to me by the kindness of the learned and worthy Dr. Wilson, formerly fellow and librarian of Trinity College, Dublin; who speaks of the Fragment in the following terms: "This Poem I transcribed from a rough draft in Pope's own hand. He left many blanks for fear of the Argus Eye of those who, if they cannot find, can fabricate treason; yet, spite of his precaution, it fell into the hands of his enemies. To the hieroglyphics, there are direct allusions, I think, in some of the notes on the Dunciad. It was lent me by a grandson of Lord Chetwynd, an intimate friend of the famous Lord Bolingbroke, who gratified his curiosity by a boxful of the rubbish and sweepings of Pope's study, whose executor he was, in conjunction with Lord Marchmont." 1740. A POEM. O WRETCHED B -, jealous now of all, Thro' Clouds of Passion P--'s views are clear, Το purge and let thee blood, with fire and sword, Is all the help stern S-- would afford. That those who bind and rob thee, would not kill, Good C-- hopes, and candidly sits still. Of Ch-s W-- who speaks at all, Whose names once up, they thought it was not wrong G-r, C-m- B-t, pay thee due regards, Unless the ladies bid them mind their cards. with wit that must And C---d who speaks so well and writes, Whose wit and must needs equally provoke one, Finds thee, at best, the butt to crack his joke on. They follow rev'rently each wond'rous wight, Rise, rise, great W-- fated to appear, Tho' still he travels on no bad pretence, Or those foul copies of thy face and tongue, Or thy dread truncheon M.'s mighty peer? C. that Roman in his nose alone, The plague is on thee, Britain, and who tries To save thee in th' infectious office dies. The first firm P--y soon resign'd his breath, Brave S--w lov'd thee, and was ly'd 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 Sls, 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 |