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A PETITION TO THE Right Hon. Mr. —, In FAVOUR of Mr. MACLEAN. By a LADY.

LONDON: Printed for G. SMITH, near Temple Bar, Fleet-ſtreet. 1750.

A PETITION TO THE Right Hon. Mr.—, In FAVOUR of Mr. MACLEAN.

[]
IF ever Stateſman melted at Diſtreſs,
Nor choſe to make it More inſtead of Leſs;
If they retain a Senſe of human Things,
And deign to look on Mortals down from Kings,
Liſt! liſt! oh — whom Three Realms obey,
To the ſad Purport of my weeping Lay.
Ah! how I dread, leaſt crowding on ſome Hour,
That twiſts, confus'd, th' intricate Web of Pow'r,
Hiding thoſe ſlender Threads that lead us, ſtill
Letting the Puppets think they act at Will:
Or if, unhappily, on one I preſs
More ſerious, how to keep One's Self in Place:
Nay, I might fear, though this ſhould meet your Eyes,
When only Monarchs linger for Replies;
[4] (Yet they, perhaps, would wait when Ladies write,
For Foreigners, they ſay, are all polite,
And, ſtrange Effect of breathing diff'rent Air!
Reward the Brave, and reverence the Fair)
You ſhould to R—ts ſend my unread Griefs,
(Deputies are more difficult than Chiefs)
Perhaps he'd ſee, with Joy, my Maclean's Fall,
Such Little People envy one ſo Tall.
No, may this find thee when thy Soul's unbent,
And laughs to think, how eaſy's Government;
When frugal E— lends her ſtill Retreat,
Or verdant G—h her pacific Seat,
Or thy pleas'd Eye athwart the G— P—k rolls,
Peeping thro' L [...] C—'s Pigeon-Holes:
Gently diſſolv'd, in Unconcern the ſame
As when to Derby the Banditti came;
Yet ſtill I run one Riſque, what can be worſe?
You'll think it Begging, 'cauſe it is in Verſe.
Too ſure we beg, for Life we beg, 'tis true;
If we had robb'd enough, we need not ſue;
We own our Guilt, with Tears Contrition-ſent,
Oh! let it hurt us not, that we repent!
What can we elſe! happy, who Law defies,
In compleat Armour of paſt Services;
H [...]m Teas and Brandies, run at L [...]w's, ſhall ſheild,
And ſtain'd Ferrara on C [...]n Field.
True, he robb'd W—e and gave unmeant Fire,
The Patriot-Piſtol took him for his Sire,
Say he deſign'd it, had the Ball took place,
And ſlain one Victim of devoted Race,
[5] 'Tis not ſo long ſince this had met Applauſe
From Virtue, and the Friends to Virtue's Cauſe.
Tho' Doctrine's fall before the Scythe of Time,
Shall his believing what they taught, be Crime?
We dug no Favours in his Father's Mine,
His lib'ral Hand, to us, was clos'd as thine.
Un-plac'd, un-penſion'd, as in Bribes unſhar'd,
What Gratitude to rob the Son debarr'd?
But had he given us Riches, Rank, and Name,
And we'd attack'd his Life, and robb'd his Fame,
You'd puniſh in one Culprit! with what Face?
What's the ſole Merit of ſome Men in Place?
We ſpoil'd the Scot, and would not hide the Deed:
Th' Attempt was great! 'twas glorious to ſucceed!
'Twas Conqueſt, and not Robbery! A Crime
No needleſs Law ſays puniſh, in our Time;
But make us thankful, that no Soul was harm'd.
Oh! never more let gentle L—s go arm'd.
Our great Miſhap is private Theft too long,
The Publick's not ſo ſenſible of Wrong.
Capricious Miſtreſs! on the firſt ſhe pours
Her Vengeance, and Rewards on t'other ſhow'rs;
Brav'ry on Hounſlow with a Gibbet pays,
While look'd-on Sea-fights to new Honours raiſe.
Would Tyrant Cuſtom but ſo far recede,
That for Maclean we might in Perſon plead,
A hundred Hoops thy Levee-Room ſhould crowd;
Nay, ſhudder not, indeed we'd not be loud.
We've other Eloquence, than ſtuns the Bar
With dreadful Din of counterfeited War.
Could you but ſee the Face our Sorrow wears,
In ſilent Energy of Female Tears,
The Prevalence of Beauty you ſhould own,
Nor L [...]y C— knit one jealous Frown.
[6]
Let ſelfiſh Man joſtle for Power and Place,
Barter his Vote, turn Patriot, lie, careſs;
Sincerer Woman has a nobler End,
Unknown to Levees,—'tis to ſerve a Friend!
Oh! happy France, where Women interfere,
And claim in Government their legal Share;
Controul the Miniſter, adviſe, debate,
Ride on the Council, and direct the State.
There Beauty often pacifies the Law,
And tears a Fav'rite from its Iron Jaw;
There the ſtern Judge remits the forfeit Life,
T' a handſome Couſin, or a lovely Wife.
But Engliſh, Men of Buſineſs, know us ill,
Think Pudding th' utmoſt Efforts of our Skill;
Us, but Companions for the trifling Vein,
And form'd to Satisfy, not Entertain.
Yet, what we may — to Thee I write,
And almoſt dry my Tears, and blame my Fright.
Reflecting, in Politeneſs you, as well
As in your Politics, the French excell;
And Heav'n-born Mercy can't from him be far,
Who ſeal'd with Peace the Lyon-mouth of War.
That Hand, by which this proſtrate Iſland roſe
From her ſunk Fame tremendous to her Foes,
Will not be ſlow to raiſe the ſuppliant Fair,
Saving Maclean proves the whole Sex thy Care;
So may to Power G—le have no Pretence,
But, weak Supporters! Knowlege, Parts, and Senſe;
So, could thy Judgment in our Steerage err,
Might E—t's Eagle-Eye wink o'er the Blur.

Appendix A INDEX.

[]
A.
B.
C.
D.
E.
F.
G.
H.
I.
K.
L.
M.
P.
R.
S.
T.
V.
W.

Appendix B Declaration de l'Acteure.

[10]

JE, ayant n'aquieres propenſe, ne donner au Publique l'ouvrage qu'enſuit, qu'avec le Commentaire du moult Reverend & Vertueux Monſieur, Monſieur Guerreburton, accomparè aux plus preux, qu'oncques ne furent, en toute Litterature proufictable: Mais icelluy n'etant tout pret, & je craignant, que pendant que je cherche a gorgiaſer mes travaux a'un couſtè, ne m'arrivat quelque mal-en-ſuivir, d'un autre ſi l'Heros du Poeme fut accouſtrè d'un licol, & occis avant leur Publication, ai changè du propous, en tant on l'Edition preſente; aimant mieux la donnèr tout halle brenè en mon lourdwys: Octroyant & Baillant, neant moins au facond, Monſieur, dejà nommè, permiſſion pleniere ſur tout l'Ovrage ſi tot, qu'il aura fini ſon doit commentaire, d'ajouſter, on de tollir de mes rythmes tant qu'il trouvera a propous, memement d' y changer les Noms propres par tout, & les Louanges en Viliaines.

Je l'Acteure.
FINIS.
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