Rev. John Brown

Cuthbert Shaw, in The Race (1765; 1766) 22-23 & n.

Then Brown appear'd — with such an air he mov'd,
As shew'd him confident and self approv'd.
Poor injur'd, honour'd, Pope! the bard on thee
*Has clapp'd a rusty "lock" without a "key":
Thus when enraptur'd we attempt to rove
Thro' all the sweets of thy Pierian grove,
The gate, alas! is strongly barr'd; and all
That taste the sweets must climb the rugged wall.

Rev'rent he bow'd, andthus addrest the throne,
"One boon, oh! grant me, and the day's my own!
When the shrill trumpet calls the rival train
To scour with nimble feet the dusty plain,
Let not the dread professor Lowth appear
To freeze thy vot'ry's shiv'ring soul with fear,
Tear the fine form, perhaps, of all I've writ,
And drown me in a deluge of his wit.

*Alluding to the Essay on Satire prefix'd to the 2d. vol. of Pope's Works [edited by Warburton], which the reader of no discernment might mistake for the production of that immortal genius, unless he is lucky enought to stumble upon the title page. It has often been a matter of astonishment, how it came there? as there is no such privilege in Mr. Pope's will, bequeathed to the editor, together with the property of his works.