The Shamrock or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. To which are subjoined thoughts on the prevailing system of school education, respecting young ladies as well as gentlemen: with practical proposals for a reformation [by Samuel Whyte] |
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A LETTER TO CHARLES LUCAS, Esq; M. D.
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 | The Shamrock |  |
305
A LETTER TO CHARLES LUCAS, Esq; M. D.
One of the REPRESENTATIVES in PARLIAMENT, for the City of DUBLIN.
Waterstown, August 7th, 1770.
From Noise and Business for a While retir'd,
With sacred Liberty by thee inspir'd;
While Shades and Groves I wander here along,
Thy Pen informs, thy Merit claims my Song.
Smit with the Charms of Virtue, more than Fame,
Thee I espous'd, my first, and favourite Theme,
Thy injur'd patriot Honours to defend;
And thought it Glory to be call'd thy Friend.
Nor did base Adulation's servile Voice
Prompt the free Tribute of my artless Choice;
For, all unknown, except in Name and Worth,
Thy Deeds supply'd the Truths my Muse set forth:
Nor, now, had Gratitude, or Friendship mov'd,
If, fully known, I not the more approv'd.
With sacred Liberty by thee inspir'd;
While Shades and Groves I wander here along,
Thy Pen informs, thy Merit claims my Song.
Smit with the Charms of Virtue, more than Fame,
Thee I espous'd, my first, and favourite Theme,
Thy injur'd patriot Honours to defend;
And thought it Glory to be call'd thy Friend.
Nor did base Adulation's servile Voice
Prompt the free Tribute of my artless Choice;
For, all unknown, except in Name and Worth,
Thy Deeds supply'd the Truths my Muse set forth:
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If, fully known, I not the more approv'd.
Conduct, as thine, so spirited, so new,
Soon, Phœnix-like, the World's Attention drew.
Envy, alarm'd, in Opposition rose;
And, but the honest Few, all were thy Foes.
Dark Calumny a thousand Engines try'd,
To blast thy Laurels, and thy Worth to hide;
And, centering in himself, the venal Breast
Of thy Proceeding made his Schemes the Test.
So Moles unable to perceive the Sun,
Affirming his Defects, expose their own.
Yet, still, thy Virtues genuine I believ'd;
Nor in the Ordeal were my Hopes deceiv'd.
Soon, Phœnix-like, the World's Attention drew.
Envy, alarm'd, in Opposition rose;
And, but the honest Few, all were thy Foes.
Dark Calumny a thousand Engines try'd,
To blast thy Laurels, and thy Worth to hide;
And, centering in himself, the venal Breast
Of thy Proceeding made his Schemes the Test.
So Moles unable to perceive the Sun,
Affirming his Defects, expose their own.
Yet, still, thy Virtues genuine I believ'd;
Nor in the Ordeal were my Hopes deceiv'd.
Cross'd in thy Views, in all thy Labours cross'd,
I saw thee in a Storm of Faction toss'd;
Like the great Roman, bravely, though in vain,
Struggling thy harrass'd Country to sustain.
Ye Slaves of Power, Scribblers of Prose, or Rhymes,
Blush, blush for Shame, to recollect those Times!
Those Times, when, prostituted, every Pen
Extoll'd, ador'd an impious Race of Men,
Who, lost to Honour, in Oppression bold,
Down trampled Laws; your Rights and Freedom sold.
Lucas alone then, obstinately just,
Stood forth your Champion, and maintain'd his Trust,
'Till the gall'd Hand of delegated Power
Forc'd him an Exile from his native Shore:
Yet, true to Principle, still undeterr'd,
His Country's Weal he to his own preferr'd;
Waited his Time; the happy Moment found:
Return'd; attempted; with Success was crown'd;
And, still, in Envy's and Detraction's Spite,
He toils, unweary'd, and persists in Right.
Might I, without a Boast, that Honour claim,
I would avow our Principles the same;
And that the Genius, which inspir'd thee,
Gave a small Portion of thy Flame to me.
Be it my Glory, as 'tis thine, to hate
Each Tool of Faction, and each Pimp of State;
To drooping Worth a fostering Hand to lend;
And, in whatever State, be Virtue's Friend;
And, though thy Heights I not presume to reach,
To live the Example of the Truths I teach.
I saw thee in a Storm of Faction toss'd;
Like the great Roman, bravely, though in vain,
Struggling thy harrass'd Country to sustain.
Ye Slaves of Power, Scribblers of Prose, or Rhymes,
Blush, blush for Shame, to recollect those Times!
Those Times, when, prostituted, every Pen
Extoll'd, ador'd an impious Race of Men,
Who, lost to Honour, in Oppression bold,
Down trampled Laws; your Rights and Freedom sold.
Lucas alone then, obstinately just,
Stood forth your Champion, and maintain'd his Trust,
'Till the gall'd Hand of delegated Power
Forc'd him an Exile from his native Shore:
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His Country's Weal he to his own preferr'd;
Waited his Time; the happy Moment found:
Return'd; attempted; with Success was crown'd;
And, still, in Envy's and Detraction's Spite,
He toils, unweary'd, and persists in Right.
Might I, without a Boast, that Honour claim,
I would avow our Principles the same;
And that the Genius, which inspir'd thee,
Gave a small Portion of thy Flame to me.
Be it my Glory, as 'tis thine, to hate
Each Tool of Faction, and each Pimp of State;
To drooping Worth a fostering Hand to lend;
And, in whatever State, be Virtue's Friend;
And, though thy Heights I not presume to reach,
To live the Example of the Truths I teach.
What! though the fawning, temporizing Crowd,
In Rancour bitter, and in Scandal loud,
Decry thy Measures; thwart thy generous Toils;
And, gorging, wallow in a Nation's Spoils;
Still first, and dauntless in the glorious Cause,
Assert our Rights, our Liberties, and Laws:
Conscious of Rectitude, that shall supply
Comforts, which ill-got Wealth, and Pomp deny;
Nor, while from thence thy fair Ambition springs,
Need'st thou, a second Solon, stoop to Kings;
And, though Ingratitude dispute thy Claim,
The Octennial Bill shall eternize thy Fame.
In Rancour bitter, and in Scandal loud,
Decry thy Measures; thwart thy generous Toils;
And, gorging, wallow in a Nation's Spoils;
Still first, and dauntless in the glorious Cause,
Assert our Rights, our Liberties, and Laws:
Conscious of Rectitude, that shall supply
Comforts, which ill-got Wealth, and Pomp deny;
Nor, while from thence thy fair Ambition springs,
Need'st thou, a second Solon, stoop to Kings;
And, though Ingratitude dispute thy Claim,
The Octennial Bill shall eternize thy Fame.
308
Quite out of Nature's, and of Reason's Course,
Prescription had of Law usurp'd the Force;
While pension'd Gamblers, Knaves, and Minions sate,
From Justice screen'd, Prime Rulers of the State.
Stripp'd of our Birth-right, vainly we complain'd;
For Tyrants once, perpetual Tyrants reign'd;
Sunk in luxurious Sloth, their Bills unpaid,
Meanness, and Penury debas'd our Trade;
And Arts, and Learning all their Vigour lost,
Like budding Flowers, nipp'd by untimely Frost.
Those Iron-times we now no more endure;
And that Palladium shall our Rights secure.
Prescription had of Law usurp'd the Force;
While pension'd Gamblers, Knaves, and Minions sate,
From Justice screen'd, Prime Rulers of the State.
Stripp'd of our Birth-right, vainly we complain'd;
For Tyrants once, perpetual Tyrants reign'd;
Sunk in luxurious Sloth, their Bills unpaid,
Meanness, and Penury debas'd our Trade;
And Arts, and Learning all their Vigour lost,
Like budding Flowers, nipp'd by untimely Frost.
Those Iron-times we now no more endure;
And that Palladium shall our Rights secure.
Guard, guard it, Friends, and with Discretion use;
Nor let Misconduct tempt you to abuse;
Firm, incorrupt, great Heirs of Freedom born,
The slavish Baits of vile Seduction scorn;
Scorn, and for ever brand, if such there lives,
The Wretch whose Tongue a venal Suffrage gives:
But, bold and prudent in your Choice, respect
Men of try'd Worth; the specious Knave reject:
And let this Maxim fix'd Impression make,
Whoe'er attempts to bribe, a Bribe will take.
Do you yourselves the Path for them pursue;
And shew them 'tis their Interest to be true:
For, lost again, its Loss you may deplore;
Another Lucas shall arise no more.
Nor let Misconduct tempt you to abuse;
Firm, incorrupt, great Heirs of Freedom born,
The slavish Baits of vile Seduction scorn;
Scorn, and for ever brand, if such there lives,
The Wretch whose Tongue a venal Suffrage gives:
But, bold and prudent in your Choice, respect
Men of try'd Worth; the specious Knave reject:
And let this Maxim fix'd Impression make,
Whoe'er attempts to bribe, a Bribe will take.
Do you yourselves the Path for them pursue;
And shew them 'tis their Interest to be true:
For, lost again, its Loss you may deplore;
Another Lucas shall arise no more.
But yet the Muse, though vast thy Merits be,
Ascribes, in partial Strains, not all to thee:
Oh! could her Flight support the grand Design,
Each Patriot Worthy in my Verse should shine.
But future Bards, in happier Numbers bless'd,
Rapt with the glorious Theme, shall sing the Rest;
Shall sing the Man in Wisdom's School approv'd,
For Taste admir'd, for generous Worth belov'd;
While every Youth, aspiring after Fame,
Shall pant for Freedom at thy Caulfield's Name:
Then, when each Breast the Voice of Genius fires,
And Attic Elegance the Soul inspires,
Assembled Senates, wondering, shall avow,
What Tully was, a Bellamont is now:
Nor shall their Actions fail of just Applause,
Who, like Mountmorres, fought their Country's Cause.
Ascribes, in partial Strains, not all to thee:
Oh! could her Flight support the grand Design,
Each Patriot Worthy in my Verse should shine.
But future Bards, in happier Numbers bless'd,
Rapt with the glorious Theme, shall sing the Rest;
309
For Taste admir'd, for generous Worth belov'd;
While every Youth, aspiring after Fame,
Shall pant for Freedom at thy Caulfield's Name:
Then, when each Breast the Voice of Genius fires,
And Attic Elegance the Soul inspires,
Assembled Senates, wondering, shall avow,
What Tully was, a Bellamont is now:
Nor shall their Actions fail of just Applause,
Who, like Mountmorres, fought their Country's Cause.
How with extatic Warmth my Bosom glows,
To see the Blessings Liberty bestows!
For, here, O Lucas! in these fertile Plains,
In native Grace the charming Goddess reigns:
Through Meads and Pastures, verdant Hills and Dales.
Her grateful Influence uncontroul'd prevails.
The chearful Hind, his Day of Labour o'er,
Safe from Deduction counts his little Store;
While round his Knees his decent Fondlings cling,
And make the Peasant in his Heart a King.
Where dreary Bogs extended long and wide,
Now golden Harvest spreads her weavy Pride;
And fattening Herds, and ruminating Sheep,
In goodly Prospect range the upland Steep;
The feather'd Tenants of the Woods appear
With bolder Wing, nor dread Oppression here;
Industrious Truth unites the neighbouring Swains,
And, once again, on Earth Astræa reigns.
Thus sweet Contentment every Care beguiles;
And every Cot with Peace and Plenty smiles:
Nor needs the Muse, each Heart, expanding, tells,
Here Louth with Liberty auspicious dwells—
Sprung from a Race, in earliest Annals found,
For Wisdom, Justice, and for Arms renown'd;
In every arduous Task of Duty try'd,
Who stood unblemish'd, or, for Freedom dy'd;
With added Beams, intrinsically bright,
He shines distinguish'd in unborrow'd Light:
Blest as a Master; as a Landlord blest;
The first of Husbands; and of Friends the best.
His own in him a tender Parent find,
And in his Sphere the Rest of human Kind:
O'er all his Thoughts Benevolence presides;
And inborn Honour all his Actions guides.
Learn'd, without Pride; though highly fashion'd, plain;
In Station free; and, though a Lord, not vain;
He meets Respect, just as Distinction should,
From gentle Manners, more than Rank, or Blood:
Rare Proof that Virtue Title best supports,
And stamps true Greatness, not deriv'd from Courts.
To see the Blessings Liberty bestows!
For, here, O Lucas! in these fertile Plains,
In native Grace the charming Goddess reigns:
Through Meads and Pastures, verdant Hills and Dales.
Her grateful Influence uncontroul'd prevails.
The chearful Hind, his Day of Labour o'er,
Safe from Deduction counts his little Store;
While round his Knees his decent Fondlings cling,
And make the Peasant in his Heart a King.
Where dreary Bogs extended long and wide,
Now golden Harvest spreads her weavy Pride;
And fattening Herds, and ruminating Sheep,
In goodly Prospect range the upland Steep;
The feather'd Tenants of the Woods appear
With bolder Wing, nor dread Oppression here;
Industrious Truth unites the neighbouring Swains,
And, once again, on Earth Astræa reigns.
Thus sweet Contentment every Care beguiles;
And every Cot with Peace and Plenty smiles:
310
Here Louth with Liberty auspicious dwells—
Sprung from a Race, in earliest Annals found,
For Wisdom, Justice, and for Arms renown'd;
In every arduous Task of Duty try'd,
Who stood unblemish'd, or, for Freedom dy'd;
With added Beams, intrinsically bright,
He shines distinguish'd in unborrow'd Light:
Blest as a Master; as a Landlord blest;
The first of Husbands; and of Friends the best.
His own in him a tender Parent find,
And in his Sphere the Rest of human Kind:
O'er all his Thoughts Benevolence presides;
And inborn Honour all his Actions guides.
Learn'd, without Pride; though highly fashion'd, plain;
In Station free; and, though a Lord, not vain;
He meets Respect, just as Distinction should,
From gentle Manners, more than Rank, or Blood:
Rare Proof that Virtue Title best supports,
And stamps true Greatness, not deriv'd from Courts.
311
When Lælius rul'd, Times well remember'd yet,
Often recall'd, and always with Regret,
A County, wise and generous in their Choice,
Unanimous on him bestow'd their Voice.
To Fortune born, though then to Wealth unknown,
Free were his Thoughts; his Actions all his own;
Not skill'd, nor form'd, in servile Train to draw,
His Guide was Reason; and his Sanction Law.
Even Lælius courted; yet his stedfast Soul
No Hopes could lure; no Eloquence controul:
Friendship itself, unbiass'd, he withstood;
Nor felt, nor thought, but for his Country's Good.
And if, my Friend, e'er in detested Hour,
This Isle should groan beneath perverted Power;
When you, and he, and Leinster's self shall fail
To awe Corruption, which must then prevail,
Smiling amidst the Storm, he firm shall stand,
The Boast, and Patron of this hapless Land;
And though of all State Honours dispossest,
Shall find superior, lodg'd within his Breast.—
Often recall'd, and always with Regret,
A County, wise and generous in their Choice,
Unanimous on him bestow'd their Voice.
To Fortune born, though then to Wealth unknown,
Free were his Thoughts; his Actions all his own;
Not skill'd, nor form'd, in servile Train to draw,
His Guide was Reason; and his Sanction Law.
Even Lælius courted; yet his stedfast Soul
No Hopes could lure; no Eloquence controul:
Friendship itself, unbiass'd, he withstood;
Nor felt, nor thought, but for his Country's Good.
And if, my Friend, e'er in detested Hour,
This Isle should groan beneath perverted Power;
When you, and he, and Leinster's self shall fail
To awe Corruption, which must then prevail,
Smiling amidst the Storm, he firm shall stand,
The Boast, and Patron of this hapless Land;
And though of all State Honours dispossest,
Shall find superior, lodg'd within his Breast.—
Yet, hold—too long against an harden'd Age,
Has Satyr bent her ineffectual Rage:
Abuse, and Scandal boil on every Tongue;
And random Censure has been shot too long.
Each petty Newsmonger, who scarcely spells,
Big with himself, three Kingdoms' Interest tells;
And, plum'd in Ignorance, with decisive Tone,
Explodes State Failures, and—neglects his own;
And, like immortal Pope, must wield the Pen,
To “dash the Front of shameless, guilty Men.”
But shameless Guilt, who can expect to dash?
The Curb it feels not; nor regards the Lash—
They may be right; though differently I steer,
Yet, Self-dependent, ne'er knew Hope nor Fear.
Thou know'st, my Lucas, and canst well attest
The secret Workings of my inmost Breast,
Born for Mankind, not for myself I live;
Nor wish Advantage, where I none can give.
My Soul, confess'd, enlarg'd Affection sways;
And warm Affection ever tunes my Praise;
Averse alike to flatter, or offend;
Justice my Aim, and general Good my End;
With equal Eye, Wealth, Pomp, and Power I scan;
And scorn the Peer, whose Conduct shames the Man.
Yet, scourging Vice, we may be candid too;
And render Praise to whom just Praise is due.
Thus Man, by bright Examples, may be taught
To think aright, and act the Part he ought.
Virtue, in her own Loveliness array'd,
Will charm the Froward, and the Bold dissuade;
But, Error, we too rigorously oppose,
Callous, and Proof to all Correction grows.—
Has Satyr bent her ineffectual Rage:
Abuse, and Scandal boil on every Tongue;
And random Censure has been shot too long.
Each petty Newsmonger, who scarcely spells,
Big with himself, three Kingdoms' Interest tells;
And, plum'd in Ignorance, with decisive Tone,
Explodes State Failures, and—neglects his own;
And, like immortal Pope, must wield the Pen,
To “dash the Front of shameless, guilty Men.”
But shameless Guilt, who can expect to dash?
The Curb it feels not; nor regards the Lash—
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Yet, Self-dependent, ne'er knew Hope nor Fear.
Thou know'st, my Lucas, and canst well attest
The secret Workings of my inmost Breast,
Born for Mankind, not for myself I live;
Nor wish Advantage, where I none can give.
My Soul, confess'd, enlarg'd Affection sways;
And warm Affection ever tunes my Praise;
Averse alike to flatter, or offend;
Justice my Aim, and general Good my End;
With equal Eye, Wealth, Pomp, and Power I scan;
And scorn the Peer, whose Conduct shames the Man.
Yet, scourging Vice, we may be candid too;
And render Praise to whom just Praise is due.
Thus Man, by bright Examples, may be taught
To think aright, and act the Part he ought.
Virtue, in her own Loveliness array'd,
Will charm the Froward, and the Bold dissuade;
But, Error, we too rigorously oppose,
Callous, and Proof to all Correction grows.—
But, in the Account of duly stated Time,
Too long, perhaps, I spin this idle Chime.—
A Nation's Weal may mark thy pensive Brow;
Or Sickness languish for thy Presence now.
Go, with thy grateful, wonderous Skill restrain
The Throbs of Grief, and check the Sting of Pain.
Go, like thy sacred Master, Comfort give;
And bid slow, lingering Deaths arise and live:
Preserve the Husband to the weeping Wife;
Or, in the Mistress, save the Lover's Life;
Restore the Hopes of some illustrious Line,
And let them thank thee with a Heart like mine.
Too long, perhaps, I spin this idle Chime.—
A Nation's Weal may mark thy pensive Brow;
Or Sickness languish for thy Presence now.
Go, with thy grateful, wonderous Skill restrain
The Throbs of Grief, and check the Sting of Pain.
Go, like thy sacred Master, Comfort give;
And bid slow, lingering Deaths arise and live:
Preserve the Husband to the weeping Wife;
Or, in the Mistress, save the Lover's Life;
Restore the Hopes of some illustrious Line,
And let them thank thee with a Heart like mine.
On Account of some particular Allusions in the Course of this Letter, it may not be improper to observe, that it was first written August 10th, 1768; and afterwards revised, and sent, with the Addition of a few Lines, agreeably to the above Date.
A little sooty blind Animal, which roots out its wretched Livelihood under Ground; and is represented by Æsop denying the Existence of the Sun, because it had not Eyes to see it.
'Tis well known, he was in the clear Receipt of three thousand Pounds a Year, in London, as a Physician, when, on the Decease of his late Majesty, he left that Metropolis, and returned to Dublin, at the Call of his Fellow-Citizens, to represent them in Parliament.
The Right Honourable Thomas Birmingham, Earl of Louth.—Whoever has seen (as the Writer very happily often has) the Poor, through all the neighbouring High-Roads and Villages, falling on their Knees, and lifting up their ardent Eyes and Hands to Heaven, in Blessings on this worthy Nobleman's equally worthy, and amiable Children, as they passed along; whoever saw the Grief and unfeigned Tears of the Country, far and wide, through all Ranks and Conditions, on his Lordship's taking of his final Leave, Friday, May the 10th, 1771, will readily subscribe to the Truth of the above Description. Nor was this the fawning Artifice of an interested Tenantry: Waterstown is not his Lordship's paternal Seat; he had been only a casual Sojourner there, for about fifteen Years, during the Minority of Mr. H. O, ye Great! ye ostentatious Inheritors of Rank, and Opulence! how easily might you conciliate Affection, where, now, ye but too often provoke Contempt! Fortuitous, and mean, are the Consequences of your external Advantages! Do you aspire at Importance?—establish it in the Heart: Do you look for Respect?—'tis founded in Desert. You can never lose by Condescension; and, only by Humility can you be exalted.
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