The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse (1735-1820): Edited by the Rev. R. I. Woodhouse |
I, II. |
1. |
HAGLEY. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
CHAPTER 1st.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse | ||
HAGLEY.
Hence glides the sight o'er Scenes of fairer fame,
Once grac'd by Lyttleton's ennobled Name;
That Name which first baronial honours bore;
A Lord, belov'd! who, now, glads Earth no more!
A mirror, bright! where Peers might plainly see,
If not what others are, what all should be.
Much more adorn'd by learning, Wit, and Worth,
Than lordly Title, Wealth, or noblest Birth!
Sincere, tho' courteous—resolute, tho' mild—
No trust betray'd—no confidence beguil'd—
His promise, sacred—his assertions, true—
He scorn'd to tempt—cajole—and then, undo.
Scorn'd to pursue the subtle Miner's part,
To work deep windings in the heedless heart;
An then, with more than Machiavelian guilt,
Blow up the fabrics Faith and Hope had built!
His Honour, spotless! Independence, dear!
Immers'd in Courts he kept his Conscience clear!
Tho' breathing air where poisonous vapours float,
His Faith supplied perpetual antidote!
Each pious grace with purest morals, mix'd,
His converse fashion'd, and his conduct fix'd!
Tho' with abundant feasts by Flattery fed,
Sincerity supplied his daintiest bread;
While, tho' she practis'd well the Syren's part,
Chaunting her strains by courtly rules of Art,
He never knew their fascinating force;
For Virtue, flowing on, in heavenly course,
Ne'er felt foul shame, nor suffer'd fatal shocks,
Of Conscience, wreckt on Vice's horrid rocks.
Court-favour could no Vanity infuse,
Nor Pride, nor Ostentation, turn his views—
Philosophy and Sense his Soul refin'd;
And, fenc'd from vicious taint his moral Mind!
Corruption's aspic tooth could, still, withstand,
And shake the viper from unvenom'd hand!
Press itchy palms from all infection free!
Colleague with Lepers, yet no Leper he!
In regal Courts all proper homage paid,
To Magistrate supreme, the People made;
Yet look'd on Kings, like that keen-thinking few,
Who yield to Cesar only Cesar's due;
Not giving glory to a crumbling Clod,
Prince—King—or Emperor call'd, by robbing God!
He view'd, with calm respect, not impious awe,
On Mortals, like himself, restrain'd by Law—
Not with unalienable pow'r possest,
But bound by right restrictions, like the Rest.
Saw pimping Parasites, mere tools of State,
Like dazzling Meteors, of a moment's date!
Saw transient Minister's deputed pow'rs,
The vivid Vapours of Eve's passing hours;
With gildings grac'd, which maudlin Souls admire,
But put on sables when their Suns retire;
Or feeble radiance, drawn from borrow'd beams,
Like reflex Moonlight from lakes twinkling streams!
All strength, deriv'd from temporal Prince's ray,
Like frail ephemerons of a vernal day,
All pomp possess'd from such elating lot,
Envied, while worn; when stript, all straight forgot!
Mark'd, when Caprice first push'd them from their place,
Skulking with sharp chagrin, and dumb disgrace;
For seldom Kings, or Courtiers, seek, or claim
True Friends in Time—or find posthumous Fame!
When his fond feet approach'd Heav'n's holy Shrine,
Where wise Men worship Majesty divine,
His Soul, concenter'd, in that awful Fane,
Allow'd no vagrant look, no action vain;
For conscious crime each careless hour occurr'd,
How boldly he'd rebell'd! how oft he err'd;
And feeling gifts, and graces, flow'd from God,
His Temple, still, with deep devotion trod;
His pious Heart, impress'd with Love and Fear,
Presented full, and freewill, offerings, there!
From his example gracious practice grew—
Religion's Champion, and her Patron, too!
And, while Heav'n's maxims stor'd his tender Mind,
Felt pure philanthropy for all Mankind!
Ne'er look'd with keen contempt, but pity, down
On mean Mechanic, or uncourtly Clown;
Nor hop'd to find perfection's ampler springs
In courtly Ministers, or mortal Kings;
But found base faults, or follies, tinge the fate
Of all that wrought with tools, or rul'd the State!
Knew Heav'n intended in Earth's temporal plan,
Innumerous ranks, and offices, of Man;
Yet, while dictating Laws, at Duty's call,
He warmly wish'd the happiness of all!
Once grac'd by Lyttleton's ennobled Name;
That Name which first baronial honours bore;
A Lord, belov'd! who, now, glads Earth no more!
A mirror, bright! where Peers might plainly see,
If not what others are, what all should be.
Much more adorn'd by learning, Wit, and Worth,
Than lordly Title, Wealth, or noblest Birth!
Sincere, tho' courteous—resolute, tho' mild—
No trust betray'd—no confidence beguil'd—
His promise, sacred—his assertions, true—
He scorn'd to tempt—cajole—and then, undo.
Scorn'd to pursue the subtle Miner's part,
To work deep windings in the heedless heart;
An then, with more than Machiavelian guilt,
Blow up the fabrics Faith and Hope had built!
His Honour, spotless! Independence, dear!
Immers'd in Courts he kept his Conscience clear!
Tho' breathing air where poisonous vapours float,
His Faith supplied perpetual antidote!
Each pious grace with purest morals, mix'd,
His converse fashion'd, and his conduct fix'd!
Tho' with abundant feasts by Flattery fed,
Sincerity supplied his daintiest bread;
While, tho' she practis'd well the Syren's part,
Chaunting her strains by courtly rules of Art,
He never knew their fascinating force;
For Virtue, flowing on, in heavenly course,
Ne'er felt foul shame, nor suffer'd fatal shocks,
Of Conscience, wreckt on Vice's horrid rocks.
Court-favour could no Vanity infuse,
Nor Pride, nor Ostentation, turn his views—
Philosophy and Sense his Soul refin'd;
And, fenc'd from vicious taint his moral Mind!
Corruption's aspic tooth could, still, withstand,
And shake the viper from unvenom'd hand!
Press itchy palms from all infection free!
Colleague with Lepers, yet no Leper he!
In regal Courts all proper homage paid,
To Magistrate supreme, the People made;
Yet look'd on Kings, like that keen-thinking few,
Who yield to Cesar only Cesar's due;
Not giving glory to a crumbling Clod,
Prince—King—or Emperor call'd, by robbing God!
He view'd, with calm respect, not impious awe,
On Mortals, like himself, restrain'd by Law—
Not with unalienable pow'r possest,
But bound by right restrictions, like the Rest.
Saw pimping Parasites, mere tools of State,
Like dazzling Meteors, of a moment's date!
Saw transient Minister's deputed pow'rs,
The vivid Vapours of Eve's passing hours;
With gildings grac'd, which maudlin Souls admire,
But put on sables when their Suns retire;
Or feeble radiance, drawn from borrow'd beams,
Like reflex Moonlight from lakes twinkling streams!
All strength, deriv'd from temporal Prince's ray,
Like frail ephemerons of a vernal day,
All pomp possess'd from such elating lot,
Envied, while worn; when stript, all straight forgot!
Mark'd, when Caprice first push'd them from their place,
Skulking with sharp chagrin, and dumb disgrace;
For seldom Kings, or Courtiers, seek, or claim
True Friends in Time—or find posthumous Fame!
When his fond feet approach'd Heav'n's holy Shrine,
Where wise Men worship Majesty divine,
His Soul, concenter'd, in that awful Fane,
Allow'd no vagrant look, no action vain;
For conscious crime each careless hour occurr'd,
How boldly he'd rebell'd! how oft he err'd;
And feeling gifts, and graces, flow'd from God,
His Temple, still, with deep devotion trod;
His pious Heart, impress'd with Love and Fear,
Presented full, and freewill, offerings, there!
From his example gracious practice grew—
19
And, while Heav'n's maxims stor'd his tender Mind,
Felt pure philanthropy for all Mankind!
Ne'er look'd with keen contempt, but pity, down
On mean Mechanic, or uncourtly Clown;
Nor hop'd to find perfection's ampler springs
In courtly Ministers, or mortal Kings;
But found base faults, or follies, tinge the fate
Of all that wrought with tools, or rul'd the State!
Knew Heav'n intended in Earth's temporal plan,
Innumerous ranks, and offices, of Man;
Yet, while dictating Laws, at Duty's call,
He warmly wish'd the happiness of all!
With Him Crispinus cares and and toils forgot;
Bask'd in his smiles, and hop'd a better lot!
With him bright Hagley's bless'd Elysium trac'd,
By beauty garnish'd, more by merit grac'd!
With him partook the hospitable treat,
Charm'd with his Manners more than choicest meat!
The Guests, the Honours, gratified a wish,
But his true kind Friendship far the daintiest dish!
While Grandeur, Grace, and Learning most profound,
With Wit, and Wisdom, fill'd the friendly round—
And while rich Viands pleas'd the sensual part
Pure Loving-kindness amplified the heart!
Those warm endearments, once so much admir'd,
Soon, with the life of Lyttleton, expir'd!
And left, in Crispin's breast, so vast a void
No future Friend, or Patron, e'er supplied!
To count the loss no language can declare!
Friendship must fail—ev'n Poesy despair!
What gratitude regrets, what's lov'd so well,
Sighs best can signify—tears best can tell!
Bask'd in his smiles, and hop'd a better lot!
With him bright Hagley's bless'd Elysium trac'd,
By beauty garnish'd, more by merit grac'd!
With him partook the hospitable treat,
Charm'd with his Manners more than choicest meat!
The Guests, the Honours, gratified a wish,
But his true kind Friendship far the daintiest dish!
While Grandeur, Grace, and Learning most profound,
With Wit, and Wisdom, fill'd the friendly round—
And while rich Viands pleas'd the sensual part
Pure Loving-kindness amplified the heart!
Those warm endearments, once so much admir'd,
Soon, with the life of Lyttleton, expir'd!
And left, in Crispin's breast, so vast a void
No future Friend, or Patron, e'er supplied!
To count the loss no language can declare!
Friendship must fail—ev'n Poesy despair!
What gratitude regrets, what's lov'd so well,
Sighs best can signify—tears best can tell!
CHAPTER 1st.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse | ||