The Works of Soame Jenyns ... In Four Volumes. Including Several Pieces Never Before Published. To Which are Prefixed, Short Sketches of the History of the Author's Family, and also of his Life; By Charles Nalson Cole |
 | I. |
 |
HORACE, BOOK IV. Ode VIII. IMITATED. |
| II. |
 | The Works of Soame Jenyns |  |
137
HORACE, BOOK IV. Ode VIII. IMITATED.
TO THE SAME.
Did but kind fate to me impart
Wealth equal to my gen'rous heart,
Some curious gift to ev'ry friend,
A token of my love, I'd send;
But still the choicest and the best
Should be consign'd to friends at Wrest.
Wealth equal to my gen'rous heart,
Some curious gift to ev'ry friend,
A token of my love, I'd send;
But still the choicest and the best
Should be consign'd to friends at Wrest.
An organ, which, if right I guess,
Would best please lady Marchioness,
Should first be sent by my command,
Worthy of her inspiring hand:
To lady Bell of nicest mould
A coral set in burnish'd gold:
To you, well knowing what you like,
Portraits by Lely or Vandyke,
A curious bronze, or bust antique.
Would best please lady Marchioness,
Should first be sent by my command,
Worthy of her inspiring hand:
To lady Bell of nicest mould
A coral set in burnish'd gold:
To you, well knowing what you like,
Portraits by Lely or Vandyke,
A curious bronze, or bust antique.
139
But since these gifts exceed my power,
And you, who need not wish for more,
Already blest with all that's fine,
Are pleas'd with verse, tho' such as mine;
As poets us'd in ancient times,
I'll make my presents all in rhymes;
And, lest you should forget their worth,
Like them I'll set their value forth.
And you, who need not wish for more,
Already blest with all that's fine,
Are pleas'd with verse, tho' such as mine;
As poets us'd in ancient times,
I'll make my presents all in rhymes;
And, lest you should forget their worth,
Like them I'll set their value forth.
Not monumental brass or stones,
The guardians of heroic bones,
Not victories won by Marlbro's sword,
Nor titles which these feats record,
Such glories o'er the dead diffuse,
As can the labours of the muse.
But if she should her aid deny,
With you your virtues all must die,
Nor tongues unborn shall ever say
How wise, how good, was Lady Grey.
The guardians of heroic bones,
Not victories won by Marlbro's sword,
Nor titles which these feats record,
Such glories o'er the dead diffuse,
As can the labours of the muse.
But if she should her aid deny,
With you your virtues all must die,
Nor tongues unborn shall ever say
How wise, how good, was Lady Grey.
What now had been th' ignoble doom
Of him who built imperial Rome?
Or him deserving ten times more,
Who fed the hungry, cloth'd the poor,
Clear'd streams, and bridges laid across,
And built the little church of Ross?
Did not th' eternal powers of verse
From age to age their deeds rehearse.
Of him who built imperial Rome?
141
Who fed the hungry, cloth'd the poor,
Clear'd streams, and bridges laid across,
And built the little church of Ross?
Did not th' eternal powers of verse
From age to age their deeds rehearse.
The muse forbids the brave to die,
Bestowing immortality:
Still by her aid in blest abodes
Alcides feasts among the Gods;
And royal Arthur still is able
To fill his hospitable table
With English beef, and English knights,
And looks with pity down on White's.
Bestowing immortality:
Still by her aid in blest abodes
Alcides feasts among the Gods;
And royal Arthur still is able
To fill his hospitable table
With English beef, and English knights,
And looks with pity down on White's.
| The Works of Soame Jenyns | |