Attack the Sovereign's ear;
Delight her;
Reward shall be, ne'er fear,
A mitre.

The man who will a race begin
Must persevere, or he'll not win;
Or, at the door, must fast and quake,
Except he makes the knocker speak.
What miner ever finds a vein,
Except he tries and tries again?
If you'd let fortune through the door,
You must invite her o'er and o'er.

However, I'll no longer comment,
But give the subject up this moment.
Let Maddox, who was oft translated,
Advance, and prove the point debated.
Isaac, in training, it was said,
Like me, on scanty commons fed;
Or, with more truth, may be observ'd,
Like me, on barren commons starv'd.

His aunt was poor, his parents gone;
Th' unhappy lot of many a one;
Was plac'd, when he his play forsook,
Apprentice to a pastry-cook.

What tastes he pleas'd is quite unknown;
But, it was thought, he pleas'd his own.
For where's the man, among a host,
Who will not think of self the most?

He, notic'd by a stander-by,
'Could read a book, or make a pye.'
This friend perceiv'd the lad had spirit;
Lent authors to improve his merit.

At Glasgow's sacred school, we find
The youth, who'd left the tart behind.
The Presbyterian fund, he'd try,
And fill a pulpit by and by.
The food he made was chang'd--the whole
Then for the body--now the soul.

His patron died; much us'd to bless,
And left the pulpit in distress.
Then poverty, with awful pace,
Advanc'd, and star'd him in the face.
His aunt must give him, in retreat,
That bread which she herself could eat.

Time, in the shape of months, pass'd by,
But nought occurr'd to chear the eye--
'Dissenting int'rest dormant lies--
The Church! Ay, that's the place to rise!
A Mr. Roper has some weight
With the First Minister of State;
Request him, aunt, if you think meet,
To lay me at Sir Robert's feet.'

Roper attends the hungry bevy
Of leeches at Sir Robert's levee.
'Sir, there's a youth can well support
The Whiggish int'rest of the Court--
He'll prove most faithful; has a spirit;
Then let a smile reward his merit.
To serve the Church his talent lies;
Nor shews a backwardness to rise.'

'The Court Retainers, Sir, abound;
Places for not one-third are found.
The vermin hatch, and become pests,
Sooner than we can find them nests.
Then let solicitations end--
No nest is vacant for your friend.'

With solemn voice, with lengthen'd visage,
The aunt reported Roper's presage.
Isaac receiv'd this sore denial
Not like a man when brought to trial.

'O, never mind--the case will do,
If Walpole has been spoken to.
Like a philosopher, 'tis clear,
It rests with me to persevere;
Must stedfast hold, be silent still,
Though bullied, kick'd, and cuff'd at will.'

Isaac, next day, assum'd his best;
Brush'd well his hat, his shoes, his vest;
Powder'd his wig; the whole to crown,
Put on his gloves, his band, and gown;
Then issued forth in this gay mood--
T' invite Dame Fortune, if he cou'd;

'And 'tis a guinea to.an ace
Sir Robert's levee is the place.'

Here Isaac constantly attends;
The only man unpropp'd by friends.
Each levee, for three months the same,
He silent went, and silent came.

The Bishop of old Chichester
Address'd the British Minister--
'Pray, what young Clergyman stands there?
I never come but see him here.'

'Pray, Sir, inform me whence you came?
What is your business, and your name?'
'My name is Maddox, Sir,'--and bow'd.
All eyes upon him from the crowd.
'I'm he whom Roper had in view,
Who lately waited upon you.'

'I think you've great assurance, Sir,
To follow me with your demur;
After what I to Roper said,
You never ought to shew your head.'

Confusion seiz'd the trembling Priest;
The subject of a courtly jest.
He sunk, he blush'd, he eyed the ground--
The ruler of thee kingdoms frown'd!

If Walpole's heart obdurate felt,
The Bishop's heart began to melt.
Modest distress he's hurt to see,
Then whisper'd--' Sir, come dine with me.'

Whether they try to cultivate
Points of Religion or of State;
Rehearse the virtues, while they dine,
Of Royal George or Caroline;
Or whether they, in their debate,
Change most their subject, or their plate;
Best in heroics will appear--
How can I tell? I was not there.
But Maddox from restraint was eas'd;
They din'd, they drank, and both were pleas'd.

The Bishop, with a look benign,
Took by the hand the young divine--
'From this day, while I hold the see,
You shall, dear Sir, my Chaplain be.'

He now could say--in a defeat,
Out of a bitter comes a sweet.
Sir Robert's heart of flinty stone
Struck up a light which burnt and shone.
The Bishop's heart of soft desire,
Like tinder, caught a milder fire.

This inference will follow clear;
He that would rise must persevere.

THE SECOND PART

The Hunter, with a Fox in view,
Holds the best motive to pursue.

Fix'd to content, he cast about
To find Court Places which fell out.
For deaths, removes, near Queens and Kings,
To rising pride, and charming things;
His watchful eye, to place inclin'd,
Number'd the beating pulse behind;
And, though some distance from the call,
Knew, to an hour, when placemen fall.

Our persevering Isaac said,
'A Clerk of the Queen's closet's dead--
One word, my Lord, to Caroline,
From you, would make the closet mine.'

The worthy Prelate smil'd assent,
But ere he on this errand went,
Great London's Bishop, in a trice,
Enter'd the palace for advice--
'A place is fallen--have you a friend,
My Lord, that I can recommend?
For none in my large train are seen,
I apprehend, will suit the Queen.'

'Yes, I've a youth, the most acute,
Who will the Queen exactly suit--
My Chaplain. He the knack has got
To please my wife's ear to a jot;
And all this with surprizing ease;
Then surely he the Queen's can please.'

Now Isaac, at St. James's seen,
Became a favourite of the Queen;
A favour, half the world could tell,
Would add a lustre where it fell.

Our Royal Chaplain, by some means,
Procur'd a list of English Deans;
'Noted their age, their income, wealth,
Who had, but most who wanted, health.
But few were from diseases free;
For all were nurs'd on Lux'ry's knee.'
Affliction rais'd his spirits high;
The term of life could prophesy.
'The Dean of Bath and Wells seem'd worst--
He hop'd the Lord would call him first.'
Procur'd a spy to wing news fast
The moment he should breathe his last.

Short time elaps'd; death seiz'd the Dean;
Isaac, as quick, flew to the Queen.
But here we must the maxim wave--
'Good fortune will attend the brave.'
The Queen in contemplation gone
In Privy Garden, and alone,
Where all intrusion was forbidden,
Where every action must be hidden,
But Isaac could not stay awhile;
Open'd the door in suppliant stile;
Told her the case--he wish'd the thing--
'Begg'd she would move it to the King.'

'Me don't know dat I sal,' she said,
In angry mood--then turn'd her head.

Isaac, with humble powers, was seen
Employ'd to pacify the Queen.
'The pressing case was his excuse;
He hop'd the Queen would not refuse.
Her pardon begg'd agen, agen.'
'Vell, me vill tink upon it den.'

Another Prelate now appears
Who'd serv'd the Church near thirty years.
He bent his back and upper end,
'To beg the Deanry for a friend.'
''Tis gone an hour, vor Maddox spake;
Good Lord, my verd me cannot break.'
'He deals with Belzebub, I'm clear on't--
I wonder how he came to hear on't!'

His copious list of Deans and ills
May light his pipe, or hold his pills,
Be useful in a humbler case,
But to another must give place;
To that of Bishops much diminish'd;
Two dozen names, and then 'tis finish'd.

His Mercury had soon to tell
The Bishop of St. Asaph fell.
The ear of Caroline must know--
An ear he guided long ago,
'Wish'd in a mitre he might sleep,
The Deanry in commendam keep.'

George would but half his wish fulfil;
Only replied--'take which you will.'
The Bishop-hunter lov'd the scent;
Was now a Lord of Parliament;
His catalogue told with great ease,
Whether to Heaven or other Sees
They were translated; in his case
He only wish'd to take their place.

The learned Hough of Wor'ster fell;
His mitre fitted Isaac well.
Thus circumstanc'd, could he lament
That death's a sorrowful event?
Neither in this can we agree--
Physicians only gain a fee.

His ghostly list was not to seek
'Twas regulated once a week.
Intelligence could never lack;
His was a true Church Almanack;
Could better tell when Bishops die,
Than any star that decks the sky.
But in this point we must agree--
Death kept a list as well as he;
And stopp'd him short; or, left alone,
He'd found a way to Becket's throne.