 | The Genuine Works in Verse and Prose, Of the Right Honourable George Granville, Lord Lansdowne |  |
An Imitation of the Second Chorus in the Second Act of Seneca's Thyestes.
When will the Gods, propitious to our Pray'rs,
Compose our Factions, and conclude our Wars?
Ye Sons of Inachus, repent the Guilt
Of Crowns usurp'd, and Blood of Parents spilt;
For impious Greatness, Vengeance is in store;
Short is the Date of all ill-gotten Pow'r.
Give ear, ambitious Princes, and be wise;
Listen, and learn wherein true Greatness lies:
Place not your Pride in Roofs that shine with Gems,
In purple Robes, nor sparkling Diadems;
Nor in Dominion, nor Extent of Land:
He's only Great, who can himself command,
Whose Guard is peaceful Innocence, whose Guide
Is faithful Reason; who is void of Pride,
Checking Ambition; nor is idly vain
Of the false Incense of a popular Train;
Who without Strife, or Envy, can behold
His Neighbour's Plenty, and his Heaps of Gold;
Nor covets other Wealth, but what we find
In the Possessions of a virtuous Mind.
Compose our Factions, and conclude our Wars?
Ye Sons of Inachus, repent the Guilt
Of Crowns usurp'd, and Blood of Parents spilt;
For impious Greatness, Vengeance is in store;
Short is the Date of all ill-gotten Pow'r.
Give ear, ambitious Princes, and be wise;
Listen, and learn wherein true Greatness lies:
Place not your Pride in Roofs that shine with Gems,
In purple Robes, nor sparkling Diadems;
Nor in Dominion, nor Extent of Land:
He's only Great, who can himself command,
Whose Guard is peaceful Innocence, whose Guide
Is faithful Reason; who is void of Pride,
Checking Ambition; nor is idly vain
Of the false Incense of a popular Train;
16
His Neighbour's Plenty, and his Heaps of Gold;
Nor covets other Wealth, but what we find
In the Possessions of a virtuous Mind.
Fearless He sees, who is with Virtue crown'd,
The Tempest rage, and hears the Thunder sound;
Ever the same, let Fortune smile or frown,
On the red Scaffold, or the blazing Throne;
Serenely, as he liv'd, resigns his Breath,
Meets Destiny half way, nor shrinks at Death.
The Tempest rage, and hears the Thunder sound;
Ever the same, let Fortune smile or frown,
On the red Scaffold, or the blazing Throne;
Serenely, as he liv'd, resigns his Breath,
Meets Destiny half way, nor shrinks at Death.
Ye sovereign Lords, who sit like Gods in State,
Awing the World, and bustling to be great;
Lords but in Title, Vassals in Effect,
Whom Lust controuls, and wild Desires direct;
The Reigns of Empire but such Hands disgrace,
Where Passion, a blind Driver, guides the Race.
Awing the World, and bustling to be great;
Lords but in Title, Vassals in Effect,
Whom Lust controuls, and wild Desires direct;
The Reigns of Empire but such Hands disgrace,
Where Passion, a blind Driver, guides the Race.
What is this Fame, thus crowded round with Slaves?
The Breath of Fools, the Bait of flatt'ring Knaves:
An honest Heart, a Conscience free from Blame,
Not of great Acts, but Good, give me the Name:
In vain we plant, we build, our Stores increase,
If Conscience roots up all our inward Peace.
What need of Arms, or Instruments of War,
Or batt'ring Engines that destroy from far?
The greatest King, and Conqueror is He,
Who Lord of his own Appetites can be;
Blest with a Pow'r that nothing can destroy,
And all have equal Freedom to enjoy.
The Breath of Fools, the Bait of flatt'ring Knaves:
An honest Heart, a Conscience free from Blame,
Not of great Acts, but Good, give me the Name:
In vain we plant, we build, our Stores increase,
If Conscience roots up all our inward Peace.
What need of Arms, or Instruments of War,
Or batt'ring Engines that destroy from far?
The greatest King, and Conqueror is He,
Who Lord of his own Appetites can be;
17
And all have equal Freedom to enjoy.
Whom worldly Luxury, and Pomps allure,
They tred on Ice, and find no Footing sure:
Place me, ye Pow'rs! in some obscure Retreat,
O! keep me innocent, make others great:
In quiet Shades, content with rural Sports,
Give me a Life remote from guilty Courts,
Where free from Hopes or Fears, in humble Ease,
Unheard of, I may live and die in Peace.
They tred on Ice, and find no Footing sure:
Place me, ye Pow'rs! in some obscure Retreat,
O! keep me innocent, make others great:
In quiet Shades, content with rural Sports,
Give me a Life remote from guilty Courts,
Where free from Hopes or Fears, in humble Ease,
Unheard of, I may live and die in Peace.
Happy the Man who thus retir'd from Sight,
Studies himself and seeks no other Light:
But most unhappy he, who sits on high,
Expos'd to every Tongue and every Eye;
Whose Follies blaz'd about, to all are known,
But are a Secret to himself alone:
Worse is an evil Fame, much worse than none.
Studies himself and seeks no other Light:
But most unhappy he, who sits on high,
Expos'd to every Tongue and every Eye;
Whose Follies blaz'd about, to all are known,
But are a Secret to himself alone:
Worse is an evil Fame, much worse than none.
| The Genuine Works in Verse and Prose, Of the Right Honourable George Granville, Lord Lansdowne | |