Welcome to Poetry.com
Poetry.com is a huge collection of poems from famous and amateur poets from around the world — collaboratively published by a community of authors and contributing editors.
O Wretched B----, jealous now of all,(0.00 / 0 votes)
What god, what mortal shall prevent thy fall?
Turn, turn thy eyes from wicked men in place,
And see what succour from the patriot race.
C----, his own proud dupe, thinks monarchs things
Made just for him, as other fools for kings;
Controls, decides, insults thee every hour,
And antedates the hatred due to power.
Through clouds of passion P----'s views are clear;
He foams a patriot to subside a peer;
Impatient sees his country bought and sold,
And damns the market where he takes no gold.
Grave, righteous S---- jogs on till, past belief,
He finds himself companion with a thief.
To 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,
No more than of Sir Har--y or Sir P----.
Whose names once up, they thought it was not wrong
To lie in bed, but sure they lay too long.
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,
Whom (saving W.) every S. harper bites,
Whose wit and ... equally provoke one,
Finds thee, at best, the butt to crack his joke on.
As for the rest, each winter up they run,
And all are clear, and something must be done.
Then urged by C---t, or by C---t stopp'd,
Inflamed by P----, and by P---- dropp'd;
They follow reverently each wondrous wight,
Amazed that one can read, that one can write:
So geese to gander prone obedience keep,
Hiss, if he hiss, and if he slumber, sleep.
Till having done whate'er was fit or fine,
Utter'd a speech, and ask'd their friends to dine;
Each hurries back to his paternal ground,
Content but for five shillings in the pound,
Yearly defeated, yearly hopes they give,
And all agree Sir Robert cannot live.
Rise, rise, great W----, fated to appear,
Spite of thyself a glorious minister!
Speak the loud language princes ...
And treat with half the ...
At length to B---- kind as to thy ...
Espouse the nation, you ...
What can thy H--- ...
Dress in Dutch ...
Though still he travels on no bad pretence,
To shew ...
Or those foul copies of thy face and tongue,
Veracious W---- and frontless Young;
Sagacious Bub, so late a friend, and there
So late a foe, yet more sagacious H----?
Hervey and Hervey's school, F----, H---y, H---n
Yea, moral Ebor, or religious Winton.
How! what can O---w, what can D----,
The wisdom of the one and other chair,
N---- laugh, or D---s sager,
Or thy dread truncheon M----'s mighty peer?
What help from J----'s opiates canst thou draw,
Or H---k's quibbles voted into law?
C----, that Roman in his nose alone,
Who hears all causes, B----, but thy own,
Or those proud fools whom nature, rank, and fate
Made fit companions for the sword of state.
Can the light packhorse, or the heavy steer,
The sowzing prelate, or the sweating peer,
Drag out, with all its dirt and all its weight,
The lumbering carriage of thy broken state?
Alas! the people curse, the carman swears,
The drivers quarrel, and the master stares.
The plague is on thee, Britain, and who tries
To save thee, in the infectious office dies.
The first firm P---y soon resign'd his breath,
Brave S---w loved thee, and was lied 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 sl---s, thy se---s bought with gold
Thy clergy perjured, thy whole people sold.
An atheist [symbol] a [symbol]'s ad ... 
Blotch thee all o'er, and sink ...
Alas! on one alone our all relies,
Let him be honest, and he must be wise,
Let him no trifler from his school,
Nor like his ... still a ...
Be but a man! unminister'd, alone,
And free at once the senate and the throne;
Esteem the public love his best supply,
A [symbol]'s true glory his integrity:
Rich with his ... in his ... strong,
Affect no conquest, but endure no wrong.
Whatever his religion or his blood,
His public virtue makes his title good.
Europe's just balance and our own may stand,
And one man's honesty redeem the land.
Discuss this Alexander Pope poem with the community:
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"A Fragment Of A Poem." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 19 Apr. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/54662/a-fragment-of-a-poem.>.