A Collection of Miscellany poems and letters Comical and Serious. By Jo. Harvey |
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TO THE MEMORY OF The Right Honourable, WILLIAM late Earl of Kintore. |
 | A Collection of Miscellany poems and letters |  |
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TO THE MEMORY OF The Right Honourable, WILLIAM late Earl of Kintore.
Whilst Thou, Great Soul, pursu'st Thy airy Way,
Mount'st on a Thought, and bear'st on endless Day;
Whilst, on Immortal Wing, Thou skim'st the Skies,
And view'st the whirling Orbs with vast Surprize:
Now whilst, Sublime, Thou soar'st above the Pole,
Where Matter is no more, and no more Worlds roll:
Mount'st on a Thought, and bear'st on endless Day;
Whilst, on Immortal Wing, Thou skim'st the Skies,
And view'st the whirling Orbs with vast Surprize:
Now whilst, Sublime, Thou soar'st above the Pole,
Where Matter is no more, and no more Worlds roll:
Please stoop, Great Shade, a Moment on thy Wing,
And hear an humble Bard devoutly sing.
Fain wou'd I all Thy ancient Glory trace,
And sing th'immortal Honours of Thy Race:
Conscious of native Weakness, all in vain,
An humble Muse attempts the Lofty Strain.
Whilst I the vast, the arduous Task pursue,
What Scenes of Wonder open to my View?
Glories on Glories, still successive, rise,
Whilst all th'immortal Race assert their native Skies!
Yet fondly still the Muse attempts their Fame,
And still, unequal, sinks beneath the arduous Theme.
So sprightly Pope doth all his Force engage
To reach the Heights of the Mœonian Page,
Sublime on daring Wing, thro' Paths ne'er trod,
He views Great Homer tow'ring like a God;
Fir'd with unequal Rage, he toils in vain,
And heaves, and gasps, opprest beneath the mighty Scene.
And hear an humble Bard devoutly sing.
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And sing th'immortal Honours of Thy Race:
Conscious of native Weakness, all in vain,
An humble Muse attempts the Lofty Strain.
Whilst I the vast, the arduous Task pursue,
What Scenes of Wonder open to my View?
Glories on Glories, still successive, rise,
Whilst all th'immortal Race assert their native Skies!
Yet fondly still the Muse attempts their Fame,
And still, unequal, sinks beneath the arduous Theme.
So sprightly Pope doth all his Force engage
To reach the Heights of the Mœonian Page,
Sublime on daring Wing, thro' Paths ne'er trod,
He views Great Homer tow'ring like a God;
Fir'd with unequal Rage, he toils in vain,
And heaves, and gasps, opprest beneath the mighty Scene.
Ye Pow'rs! Be kind for once; For once inspire
A willing Genius with uncommon Fire.
And Thou, Great Shade, dart, from thy native Skie
A Smile propitious, on my feeble Lays.
I feel th'inspiring Ray!—my Spirits rowl;
And Tides of Rapture swell my lab'ring Soul.
Where shall the Muse thy Ancient Glories trace?
Back to fam'd Barry let us haste apace.
A willing Genius with uncommon Fire.
And Thou, Great Shade, dart, from thy native Skie
A Smile propitious, on my feeble Lays.
I feel th'inspiring Ray!—my Spirits rowl;
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Where shall the Muse thy Ancient Glories trace?
Back to fam'd Barry let us haste apace.
Triumphant Sweno, insolently proud,
In all the Pomp of Lust and Rapine rode
Thro' ruin'd England, which oppos'd in vain,
And, conquer'd, tamely dragg'd th'inglorious Chain.
How did the bold successful Tyrant smile,
Hoping to bound his Conquest with the Isle?
Against the Scots his conqu'ring Arms he bends,
And Hardy Camus, to reduce them, sends.
In all the Pomp of Lust and Rapine rode
Thro' ruin'd England, which oppos'd in vain,
And, conquer'd, tamely dragg'd th'inglorious Chain.
How did the bold successful Tyrant smile,
Hoping to bound his Conquest with the Isle?
Against the Scots his conqu'ring Arms he bends,
And Hardy Camus, to reduce them, sends.
From Cimbrian Shores, in haste, the warlike Dane,
Thirsting for Glory, lanches to the Main.
Swift, with inspiring Gales, he's wafted o'er,
And, in Bodotria's Channel, seeks the Shore.
Thirsting for Glory, lanches to the Main.
Swift, with inspiring Gales, he's wafted o'er,
And, in Bodotria's Channel, seeks the Shore.
Vain Enterprize!—
In shining Steel the Scotish Squadrons stand,
And Death and Terror guard the fatal Strand.
Enrag'd, he turns, and skimming Rossia's Coasts,
On Fair Æneia's Shore he lands the Barb'rous Host:
And Death and Terror guard the fatal Strand.
Enrag'd, he turns, and skimming Rossia's Coasts,
On Fair Æneia's Shore he lands the Barb'rous Host:
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No sooner from their Ships the Troops descend,
But Sword and Fire and Ruin waste the Land.
They all the Villages to Ashes turn,
And, with devouring Flames, the yellow Harvests burn.
Alarm'd, Great Malcolm, ere it was too late,
Hastes to prevent his sinking Country's Fate;
Straightway the Gilded Lyon waves in Air,
Round which, in Throngs, the daring Scots appear,
Their native Rights all eager to assert,
Glory and Freedom glows in ev'ry Heart.
With Care paternal, anxious Malcolm scanns
Th'Events of War, and conquer'd England's Chains.
But Sword and Fire and Ruin waste the Land.
They all the Villages to Ashes turn,
And, with devouring Flames, the yellow Harvests burn.
Alarm'd, Great Malcolm, ere it was too late,
Hastes to prevent his sinking Country's Fate;
Straightway the Gilded Lyon waves in Air,
Round which, in Throngs, the daring Scots appear,
Their native Rights all eager to assert,
Glory and Freedom glows in ev'ry Heart.
With Care paternal, anxious Malcolm scanns
Th'Events of War, and conquer'd England's Chains.
Now did the rapid Sun his Beams display,
And, mounting, darts around the dreadful Day;
The Hostile Squadrons now each other view'd,
Glitt'ring in horrid Iron; the Legions stood
In terrible Aray; Extended far
O'er Barry's direful Plains; a dreadful Length of War!
Their shining Arms reflect the blended Rays,
And flash on either Host a dismal Blaze.
Thus rang'd in steely Pomp, and deep Aray,
The eager Troops demand the bloody Day.
And, mounting, darts around the dreadful Day;
The Hostile Squadrons now each other view'd,
Glitt'ring in horrid Iron; the Legions stood
In terrible Aray; Extended far
O'er Barry's direful Plains; a dreadful Length of War!
Their shining Arms reflect the blended Rays,
And flash on either Host a dismal Blaze.
Thus rang'd in steely Pomp, and deep Aray,
The eager Troops demand the bloody Day.
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Then streight the sprightly Trumpet, from afar,
Swelling with awful Clang, inspires the War:
And whilst the Hills the loud Alarm rebound,
Each Hero feels his Soul dilating with the Sound.
Swelling with awful Clang, inspires the War:
And whilst the Hills the loud Alarm rebound,
Each Hero feels his Soul dilating with the Sound.
But, O my Muse, what Numbers wilt thou find,
To sing the ancient Scots in Battle joyn'd?
The Signal given; Wing'd with impetuous Rage,
The Rapid Squadrons furiously engage!
So rush the warring Elements on high,
When Tides meet Tides encount'ring in the Sky;
When wat'ry Floods and Flames together roll,
And, with their hideous Roar, confound the Pole.
To sing the ancient Scots in Battle joyn'd?
The Signal given; Wing'd with impetuous Rage,
The Rapid Squadrons furiously engage!
So rush the warring Elements on high,
When Tides meet Tides encount'ring in the Sky;
When wat'ry Floods and Flames together roll,
And, with their hideous Roar, confound the Pole.
Now Hate and Glory fire their Souls by Turns,
And in full Fury all the Battle burns.
From temper'd Steel the streaming Flashes fly,
Blending a horrid Gleam, and mingling with the Day!
The Rushing Nations mix their dismal Cries,
And Shouts and dying Grones torment the Skies.
And in full Fury all the Battle burns.
From temper'd Steel the streaming Flashes fly,
Blending a horrid Gleam, and mingling with the Day!
The Rushing Nations mix their dismal Cries,
And Shouts and dying Grones torment the Skies.
With former Success flush'd th'insulting Dane,
Born on a rapid Courser, scours the Plain,
Urging the War; The Scotish Troops give Way,
Confus'd in Heaps expiring Squadrons lay,
And anxious Malcolm sees the sad declining Day.
With sudden Dread he feels his Spirits chill'd,
And Pale, and Hopeless, views the deadly Field.
Born on a rapid Courser, scours the Plain,
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Confus'd in Heaps expiring Squadrons lay,
And anxious Malcolm sees the sad declining Day.
With sudden Dread he feels his Spirits chill'd,
And Pale, and Hopeless, views the deadly Field.
Now, Gen'rous KEITH! Now does Thy awful Name
Commence its Glory in the Rolls of Fame.
Hail, Godlike Youth! who, fir'd with gen'rous Grief,
Flew to Thy Country's, and Thy King's Relief;
Born on Revenge, Thou wing'st Thy dreadful Way,
Rushing thro' all the Havock of the Day;
Thro' Death and Ruin driv'st upon Thy Foes,
Restor'st Thy Country's Honour, and the Cause.
In Heaps expiring ly the mangled Danes,
And Hills of Carnage glut the fatal Plains.
The rapid Lochty, choak'd with Tides of Blood,
Rolls, groning, to the Sea, a Crimson Flood.
Slaughter, with clotted Hair, and pale Dismay,
Stalk ghastly o'er the Ruins of the Day.
Commence its Glory in the Rolls of Fame.
Hail, Godlike Youth! who, fir'd with gen'rous Grief,
Flew to Thy Country's, and Thy King's Relief;
Born on Revenge, Thou wing'st Thy dreadful Way,
Rushing thro' all the Havock of the Day;
Thro' Death and Ruin driv'st upon Thy Foes,
Restor'st Thy Country's Honour, and the Cause.
In Heaps expiring ly the mangled Danes,
And Hills of Carnage glut the fatal Plains.
The rapid Lochty, choak'd with Tides of Blood,
Rolls, groning, to the Sea, a Crimson Flood.
Slaughter, with clotted Hair, and pale Dismay,
Stalk ghastly o'er the Ruins of the Day.
Thus at fam'd Loncarty, when murd'ring Danes
Had drove the Scotish Legions from the Plains;
Undaunted HAY beholds the shameful Foil,
And swiftly rushing from his homely Toil,
Choaks the base Flight, and bars the Victor's Way,
And, Thund'ring with his Yoke, restores the Day.
Had drove the Scotish Legions from the Plains;
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And swiftly rushing from his homely Toil,
Choaks the base Flight, and bars the Victor's Way,
And, Thund'ring with his Yoke, restores the Day.
Illustrious HAY! O may thy ancient Name,
Thy Country's early Pride! The Muses Theme!
Ne'er be forgotten in the List of Fame.
Bright, as Thy self, may all Thy godlike Line
For ever in the Scotish Annals shine.
Thy Country's early Pride! The Muses Theme!
Ne'er be forgotten in the List of Fame.
Bright, as Thy self, may all Thy godlike Line
For ever in the Scotish Annals shine.
Thus then, Great Keith, from rescu'd Scotland's Fate
Thy Train of ancient Honours takes its Date.
Malcolm, who strictly cou'd the Field survey,
Soon had Thy great Ancestor in his Eye;
And those high Marks of Honour straight bestows,
That justly to his Services he owes,
Which, in their native Splendour, still unstain'd,
His Godlike Sons have gloriously maintain'd.
Thy Train of ancient Honours takes its Date.
Malcolm, who strictly cou'd the Field survey,
Soon had Thy great Ancestor in his Eye;
And those high Marks of Honour straight bestows,
That justly to his Services he owes,
Which, in their native Splendour, still unstain'd,
His Godlike Sons have gloriously maintain'd.
Fain wou'd I sing each Hero of the Line,
But the vast Task controuls the just Design;
For ne'er did Fortune raise or sink the State,
But each brave KEITH still shar'd his Country's Fate.
But the vast Task controuls the just Design;
For ne'er did Fortune raise or sink the State,
But each brave KEITH still shar'd his Country's Fate.
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Must then, Illustrious Shade, th'ungrateful Muse
Her Tribute to thy gen'rous Sire refuse?
No, no; For ever may his Glory live,
Brightned with all the Charms the Muse can give.
In Scotland ever be his Name observ'd,
Dear to her as the Honours he preserv'd.
Her Tribute to thy gen'rous Sire refuse?
No, no; For ever may his Glory live,
Brightned with all the Charms the Muse can give.
In Scotland ever be his Name observ'd,
Dear to her as the Honours he preserv'd.
Long had the Tyrant Cromwel proudly Reign'd,
And, bold in Success, Gods and Men disdain'd;
With impious Joy had seen his Conquests swell,
On Witchcraft founded, and secur'd by Hell.
Long had with Artifice, and sly Pretence,
Abus'd the Nation, and confounded Sense.
Britain of all her Rights is quite bereav'd,
And with the Sound of Liberty enslav'd.
Her Provinces o'errun, her Cities spoil'd,
Her Sov'reign butcher'd, and his Heirs exil'd.
Wrapt in his Gyant-crimes, he braves the Skies,
And Heav'n and Earth and all, but Hell, defyes.
Now wants he nothing to complete his Game,
But th'Ensigns Royal, and a Monarch's Name.
His too obsequious Friends mistake the Plot,
Balk him in This, as did thy Sire in That.
And, bold in Success, Gods and Men disdain'd;
With impious Joy had seen his Conquests swell,
On Witchcraft founded, and secur'd by Hell.
Long had with Artifice, and sly Pretence,
Abus'd the Nation, and confounded Sense.
Britain of all her Rights is quite bereav'd,
And with the Sound of Liberty enslav'd.
Her Provinces o'errun, her Cities spoil'd,
Her Sov'reign butcher'd, and his Heirs exil'd.
Wrapt in his Gyant-crimes, he braves the Skies,
And Heav'n and Earth and all, but Hell, defyes.
Now wants he nothing to complete his Game,
But th'Ensigns Royal, and a Monarch's Name.
His too obsequious Friends mistake the Plot,
Balk him in This, as did thy Sire in That.
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Hail, wondrous Youth! Who, obstinately Good,
Unmov'd, 'midst all the Shocks of Faction stood;
Consummate Prudence in thy Youth appears,
And Manly Wisdom decks thy Childish Years.
Early, in Thee, Nature her self outran,
And form'd the Patriot before the Man.—
Unmov'd, 'midst all the Shocks of Faction stood;
Consummate Prudence in thy Youth appears,
And Manly Wisdom decks thy Childish Years.
Early, in Thee, Nature her self outran,
And form'd the Patriot before the Man.—
But now, Great Soul, Thy self, the Muse's Theme,
Her Energy commands, and all her Flame.
She views thee shining in thy double Charms,
Renown'd in Piety, as well's in Arms.
The Hero and the Saint divide her Lays,
Both she admires, and knows not where to praise.
If trac'd to thy Retirement, we shall find
Thy Moments all Devotion, all resign'd.
When Hearts like thine feel Heav'n's inspiring Rays,
They shed around no faint, no vulgar Blaze.
Uncommon Raptures thro' the Vitals roll,
And Flames of Ardour bear the mounting Soul.
Thus oft, by Pray'r, thy Mind all rais'd on High,
Was lost in Bliss, and liv'd on Extasy.
Nor stood thy Piety in this alone,
The Theory bright in the Practice shone;
Thy lib'ral Hand still dealt thy bounteous Store,
Reliev'd the Needy, and supply'd the Poor.
Her Energy commands, and all her Flame.
She views thee shining in thy double Charms,
Renown'd in Piety, as well's in Arms.
The Hero and the Saint divide her Lays,
Both she admires, and knows not where to praise.
If trac'd to thy Retirement, we shall find
Thy Moments all Devotion, all resign'd.
When Hearts like thine feel Heav'n's inspiring Rays,
They shed around no faint, no vulgar Blaze.
Uncommon Raptures thro' the Vitals roll,
And Flames of Ardour bear the mounting Soul.
Thus oft, by Pray'r, thy Mind all rais'd on High,
Was lost in Bliss, and liv'd on Extasy.
Nor stood thy Piety in this alone,
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Thy lib'ral Hand still dealt thy bounteous Store,
Reliev'd the Needy, and supply'd the Poor.
But hark! Once more Bellona sounds to Arms,
And daring Scots are ravisht with her Charms;
Undaunted to the Field they rush in Throngs,
All eager to redress their Country's Wrongs.
Behold the Hero, with his warlike Train,
In martial Pomp, advancing to the Plain;
Unmov'd, He hears the Thund'ring Engines roar;
And, fearless, marches on thro' Tides of Gore.
Inspir'd with Rage, and with his Country's Cause,
He rushes, like a Torrent, on his Foes.
Confus'd around ly scatter'd Heaps of slain,
And Crimson Streams float o'er the Purple Plain.
And daring Scots are ravisht with her Charms;
Undaunted to the Field they rush in Throngs,
All eager to redress their Country's Wrongs.
Behold the Hero, with his warlike Train,
In martial Pomp, advancing to the Plain;
Unmov'd, He hears the Thund'ring Engines roar;
And, fearless, marches on thro' Tides of Gore.
Inspir'd with Rage, and with his Country's Cause,
He rushes, like a Torrent, on his Foes.
Confus'd around ly scatter'd Heaps of slain,
And Crimson Streams float o'er the Purple Plain.
But ah! Great George, how shall my Thoughts get free
To speak the Fullness of my Soul for Thee?
We saw Thee, when, impatient of the Rein,
Thy bounding Courser paw'd the dusty Plain;
We saw Thee rush, (and wondred at the Sight!)
Dauntless thro' all the Ruins of the Fight;
When Thy vast Soul, too prodigally Great,
Brav'd sulph'rous Storms, and Tempests wing'd with Fate!
Immortal George! we saw what Heaps of Foes
Fell Victims to thy Fury, and the Cause.—
But here the fetter'd Muse must skim the Shore;
Fain wou'd she rise, but knows she dares not soar.
To speak the Fullness of my Soul for Thee?
We saw Thee, when, impatient of the Rein,
Thy bounding Courser paw'd the dusty Plain;
We saw Thee rush, (and wondred at the Sight!)
Dauntless thro' all the Ruins of the Fight;
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Brav'd sulph'rous Storms, and Tempests wing'd with Fate!
Immortal George! we saw what Heaps of Foes
Fell Victims to thy Fury, and the Cause.—
But here the fetter'd Muse must skim the Shore;
Fain wou'd she rise, but knows she dares not soar.
Farewell, Great Shade! But see th'Illustrious Fair
Melting in Woe, and plung'd in deep Despair,
In all her Pomp of solemn Grief appears,
Beauteous in Clouds, and Charming in her Tears!
Ah! cease, Divinely Fair, thy useless Cries,
And on thy blooming Off-spring turn thine Eyes.
Repress each rising Sigh, each pious Groan,
And view the Sire reviving in the Son:
The Son! whom ev'ry Grace conspires t'adorn,
To better Times, we hope, and softer Periods born.
Melting in Woe, and plung'd in deep Despair,
In all her Pomp of solemn Grief appears,
Beauteous in Clouds, and Charming in her Tears!
Ah! cease, Divinely Fair, thy useless Cries,
And on thy blooming Off-spring turn thine Eyes.
Repress each rising Sigh, each pious Groan,
And view the Sire reviving in the Son:
The Son! whom ev'ry Grace conspires t'adorn,
To better Times, we hope, and softer Periods born.
Farewell, Great Shade! too long, with pious Strains
Th'officious Muse thy sacred Ear detains;
Too long she fondly dwells upon thy Praise,
In artless Numbers, and unmeasur'd Lays.
Th'officious Muse thy sacred Ear detains;
Too long she fondly dwells upon thy Praise,
In artless Numbers, and unmeasur'd Lays.
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Farewell, Illustrious Shade! pursue thy Way,
To the bright Regions of Eternal Day:
And whilst, on rapid Wing, thou bend'st thy Flight
Thro' flaming Spheres, and Tides of Purple Light,
Where thou behold'st Omnipotence on High,
Enthron'd in Splendours, and a Blaze of Day!
There, while thou roam'st in boundless Happiness,
Lost in eternal Extasies of Bliss;
Here shalt thou live Immortal in thy Fame,
And latest Ages shall applaud thy Name.
To the bright Regions of Eternal Day:
And whilst, on rapid Wing, thou bend'st thy Flight
Thro' flaming Spheres, and Tides of Purple Light,
Where thou behold'st Omnipotence on High,
Enthron'd in Splendours, and a Blaze of Day!
There, while thou roam'st in boundless Happiness,
Lost in eternal Extasies of Bliss;
Here shalt thou live Immortal in thy Fame,
And latest Ages shall applaud thy Name.
| A Collection of Miscellany poems and letters | |