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Catius is ever moral, ever grave,
Thinks who endures a knave, is next a knave;
Save just a Dinner—then prefers, no doubt,
A Rogue with Ven'son to a Saint without.
Who would not praise Patritio's high desert?
His hand unstain'd, his uncorrupted heart,
His comprehensive head? all Int'rests weigh'd,
All Europe sav'd, yet Britain not betray'd?
He thanks you not; his Pride was in Piquette,
Newmarket-fame, and Judgment at a Bett.
What made (say Montagne, or more sage Charron!)
Otho a Warrior, Cromwell a Buffoon?
A perjur'd Prince a leaden Saint revere?
A god-less Regent tremble at a Star?
The Throne a Bigot keep, a Genius quit,
Faithless thro' Piety, and dup'd thro' Wit?
Europe, a Woman, Child, or Dotard rule;
And just her ablest Monarch made a fool?
Know, God and Nature only are the same:
In Man, the judgment shoots at flying Game;
A Bird of passage! lost, as soon as found;
Now in the Moon perhaps, now under ground.
Thinks who endures a knave, is next a knave;
Save just a Dinner—then prefers, no doubt,
A Rogue with Ven'son to a Saint without.
Who would not praise Patritio's high desert?
His hand unstain'd, his uncorrupted heart,
His comprehensive head? all Int'rests weigh'd,
All Europe sav'd, yet Britain not betray'd?
He thanks you not; his Pride was in Piquette,
Newmarket-fame, and Judgment at a Bett.
What made (say Montagne, or more sage Charron!)
Otho a Warrior, Cromwell a Buffoon?
A perjur'd Prince a leaden Saint revere?
A god-less Regent tremble at a Star?
The Throne a Bigot keep, a Genius quit,
Faithless thro' Piety, and dup'd thro' Wit?
Europe, a Woman, Child, or Dotard rule;
And just her ablest Monarch made a fool?
Know, God and Nature only are the same:
In Man, the judgment shoots at flying Game;
A Bird of passage! lost, as soon as found;
Now in the Moon perhaps, now under ground.
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