To the supposed Author of The Spectator

In courts licentious and a shameless stageHow long the war shall wit with virtue wage?Enchanted by this prostituted fairOur youth run headlong in the fatal snare,In height of rapture clasp unheeded pains, 5And suck pollution thro' their tingling veins.Thy spotless thoughts unshock'd the priest may hear,And the pure Vestal in her bosom wear.To conscious blushes and diminish'd prideThy glass betrays what treach'rous love would hide;Nor harsh thy precepts, but infus'd by stealth, 11Pleas'd while they cure and cheat us into health.Thy works in Chloe's toilet gain a part,And with his tailor share the foppling's heart.Lash'd in thy satire the penurious Cit 15Laughs at himself and finds no harm in wit.From felon gamesters the raw squire is free,And Britain owes her rescu'd oaks to thee.His miss the frolick Viscount dreads to toast,Or his third cure the shallow Templar boast; 20And the rash fool who scorn'd the beaten roadDares quake at thunder and confess his God.The brainless stripling who expell'd the TownDamn'd the stiff college and pedantick gown,Aw'd by thy name is dumb, and thrice a-week 25Spells uncouth Latin and pretends to Greek.A saunt'ring tribe! such born to wide estatesWith Yea and No in senates hold debates;At length despis'd each to his fields retires,First with the dogs, and king amidst the squires; 30From pert to stupid sinks supinely down,In youth a coxcomb and in age a clown.Such readers scorn'd, thou wingst thy daring flightAbove the stars and treadst the fields of light:Fame heav'n and hell are thy exalted theme, 35And visions such as Jove himself might dream;Man sunk to slavery tho' to glory born,Heav'n's pride when upright, and deprav'd his scorn.Such hints alone could British Virgil lend,And thou alone deserve from such a friend: 40A debt so borrow'd is illustrious shame,And fame when shar'd with him is double fame.So flush'd with sweets by Beauty's queen bestow'dWith more than mortal charms Æneas glow'd;Such gen'rous strifes Eugene and Marlb'rough try,And as in glory so in friendship vie. 46Permit these Lines by thee to live—nor blameA Muse that pants and languishes for fame,That fears to sink when humbler themes she sings,Lost in the mass of mean forgotten things. 50Receiv'd by thee I prophesy my RhymesThe praise of virgins in succeeding times:Mix'd with thy works their life no bounds shall see,But stand protected as inspir'd by thee.So some weak shoot which else would poorly riseJove's tree adopts, and lifts him to the skies; 56Thro' the new pupil fost'ring juices flowThrust forth the gems and give the flow'rs to blow;Aloft, immortal reigns the plant unknownWith borrow'd life and vigour not his own. 60