The Genuine Works in Verse and Prose, Of the Right Honourable George Granville, Lord Lansdowne

King Charles II. having made a Grant of the Reversion of an Office in the Court of King's Bench, to his Son the Duke of Grafton; the Lord Chief Justice laying Claim to it, as a Perquisite legally belonging to his Office, the Cause came to be heard before the House of Lords, between the Dutchess Relict of the said Duke, and the Chief Justice.

The Princes sat; Beauty and Law contend;
The Queen of Love will her own Cause defend:
Secure she looks, as certain none can see
Such Beauty plead, and not her Captive be.

What need of Words with such commanding Eyes?
Must I then speak? O Heavn's! the Charmer cries;
O barbarous Clime! where Beauty borrows Aid
From Eloquence, to charm, or to persuade!
Will Discord never leave with envious Care
To raise Debate? But Discord governs here.
To Juno, Pallas, Wisdom, Fame, and Power,
Long since preferr'd, what Trial needs there more?
Confess'd to Sight, three Goddesses descend
On Ida's Hill, and for a Prize contend;
Nobly they bid, and lavishly pursue
A Gift, that only could be Beauty's Due:
Honours and Wealth the generous Judge denies,
And gives the Triumph to the brightest Eyes.
Such Precedents are numberless, we draw
Our Right from Custom; Custom is a Law
As high as Heaven, as wide as Seas or Land;
As ancient as the World is our Command.
Mars an Alcides would this Plea allow:
Beauty was ever absolute till now.
It is enough that I pronounce it mine,
And, right or wrong, he should his Claim resign:
Not Bears nor Tygers sure so savage are,
As these ill-manner'd Monsters of the Bar.

Loud Rumour has proclaim'd a Nymph divine,
Whose matchless Form, to counter-balance mine,
By Dint of Beauty shall extort your Grace:
Let her appear, This Rival, Face to Face;
Let Eyes to Eyes oppos'd this Strife decide;
Now, when I lighten, let her Beams be try'd.
Was't a vain Promise, and a Gown-Man's Lye?
Or stands She here, un-mark'd, when I am by?
So Heav'n was mock'd, and once all Elys round
Another Jupiter was said to sound;
On brazen Floors the royal Actor tries
To ape the Thunder rattling in the Skies;
A brandish'd Torch, with emulating Blaze,
Affects the forky Lightning's pointed Rays:
Thus borne aloft, triumphantly he rode
Thro' crowds of Worshippers, and acts the God.
The Sire omnipotent prepares the Brand,
By Vulcan wrought, and arms his potent Hand;
Then flaming hurls it hissing from above,
And in the vast Abyss confounds the mimick Jove.

Presumptuous Wretch! with mortal Art to dare
Immortal Pow'r, and brave the Thunderer!

Cassiope, preferring with Disdain,
Her Daughter to the Nereids, they complain;
The Daughter, for the Mother's guilty Scorn,
Is doom'd to be devour'd; the Mother's borne
Above the Clouds, where, by immortal Light,
Reverst she shines, expos'd to human Sight,
And to a shameful Posture is confin'd,
As an eternal Terror to Mankind.
Did thus the Gods such private Nymphs respect?
What Vengeance might the Queen of Love expect?

But grant such arbitrary Pleas are vain,
Wav'd let them be; meer Justice shall obtain.
Who to a Husband justlier can succeed,
Than the soft Partner of his Nuptial Bed;
Or to a Father's Right lay stronger Claim,
Than the dear Youth in whom survives his Name?
Behold that Youth, consider whence he springs,
And in his Royal Veins respect your Kings:
Immortal Jove, upon a mortal She,
Begat his Sire: Second from Jove is He.

Well did the Father blindly fight your Cause,
Following the Cry—of Liberty and Laws,

If by those Laws, for which he lost his Life ,
You spoil, ungratefully, the Son and Wife.

What need I more? 'Tis Treason to dispute:
The Grant was Royal; That decides the Suit.
“Shall vulgar Laws, Imperial Pow'r constrain?
“Kings, and the Gods, can never act in vain.

She finish'd here, the Queen of every Grace
Disdain vermilioning her heavenly Face:
Our Hearts take fire, and all in Tumult rise,
And one Wish sparkles in a thousand Eyes.
O! might some Champion finish these Debates!
My Sword shall end, what now my Pen relates.
Up rose the Judge, on each side bending low,
A crafty Smile accompanies his Bow;
Ulysses like, a gentle Pause he makes,
Then, raising by degrees his Voice, he speaks.

In you, my Lords, who judge; and all who hear,
Methinks I read your Wishes for the Fair;
Nor can I wonder, even I contend
With inward Pain, unwilling to offend;
Unhappy! thus oblig'd to a Defence,
That may displease such heav'nly Excellence.
Might we the Laws on any Terms abuse,
So bright an Influence were the best Excuse;

Let Niobe's just Fate, the vile Disgrace
Of the Propoetides polluted Race;
Let Death, or Shame, or Lunacy surprize,
Who dare to match the Lustre of those Eyes?
Aloud the fairest of the Sex complain
Of Captives lost, and Loves invok'd in vain;
At her Appearance all their Glory ends,
And not a Star, but sets, when she ascends.

Where Love presides, still may she bear the Prize;
But rigid Law has neither Ears nor Eyes:
Charms, to which Mars, and Hercules would bow,
Minos and Rhadamanthus disavow.
Justice, by nothing bias'd, or inclin'd,
Deaf to Persuasion, to Temptation blind,
Determines without Favour, and the Laws
O'erlook the Parties, to decide the Cause.
What then avails it, that a beardless Boy
Took a rash Fancy for a female Toy?

Th'insulted Argives, with a numerous Host,
Pursue Revenge and seek the Dardan Coast;
Tho' the Gods built, and tho' the Gods defend
Those lofty Tow'rs, the hostile Greeks ascend;
Nor leave they, till the Town in Ashes lies,
And all the Race of Royal Priam dies:
The Queen of Paphos, mixing in the Fray,
Rallies the Troops, and urges on the Day;
In Person, in the foremost Ranks she stands,
Provokes the Charge, directs, assists, commands;
Stern Diomed, advancing high in Air,
His lofty Jav'lin strikes the heavenly Fair;
The vaulted Skies with her loud Shrieks resound,
And high Olympus trembles at the Wound.
In Causes just, would all the Gods oppose.
'Twere honest to dispute; so Cato chose.
Dismiss that Plea, and what shall Blood avail?
If Beauty is deny'd, shall Birth prevail?
Blood, and high Deeds, in distant Ages done,
Are our Fore-fathers Merit, not our own.
Might none a just Possession be allow'd,
But who could bring Desert, or boast of Blood?
What Numbers, even here, might be condemn'd,
Strip'd, and despoil'd of all, revil'd, contemn'd?

Take a just View, how many may remark,
Who now's a Peer, his Grand-Sire was a Clerk:
Some few remain, enobled by the Sword
In Gothick Times: But now to be My Lord,
Study the Law; nor do these Robes despise;
Honour the Gown, from whence your Honours rise.
Those fam'd Dictators, who subdu'd the Globe,
Gave the Precedence to the peaceful Robe;
The mighty Julius, pleading at the Bar,
Was greater, than when thund'ring in the War
He conquer'd Nations: 'Tis of more Renown
To save a Client, than to storm a Town.

How dear to Britain are her darling Laws!
What Blood has she not lavish'd in their Cause!
Kings are like common Slaves to Slaughter led,
Or wander thro' the World to beg their Bread.
“When Regal Pow'r aspires above the Laws,
“A private Wrong becomes a publick Cause.

He spoke. The Nobles differ, and divide,
Some join with Law, and some with Beauty side.
Mordaunt, tho' once her Slave, insults the Fair,
Whose Fetters 'twas his Pride, in Youth, to wear:
So Lucifer revolting, brav'd the Pow'r
Whom he was wont to worship and implore.
Like impious is their Rage, who have in chace
A new Omnipotence in Grafton's Face.

But Rochester, undaunted, just, and wise,
Asserts the Goddess with the Charming Eyes;
And O! may Beauty never want Reward
For thee, her noble Champion, and her Guard.
Beauty triumphs, and Law submitting lies,
The Tyrant tam'd, aloud for Mercy cries;
Conquest can never fail in radiant Grafton's Eyes.

A Report spread of a beautiful young Lady, Niece to the Lord Chief Justice, who would appear at the Bar of the House of Lords, and eclipse the Charms of the Dutchess of Grafton: No such Lady was seen there, nor perhaps ever in any Part of the World.

The Duke of Grafton, slain at the Siege of Cork in Ireland, about the beginning of the Revolution.

Niobe turn'd into a Stone for presuming to compare herself with Diana.

Propœtides, certain Virgins, who for affronting Venus, were condemn'd to open Prostitution, and afterwards turn'd into Stone.

Minos and Rhadamanthus, famous Legislators, who for their strict Administration of Justice, were after their Deaths made chief Judges in the infernal Regions.

Venus.

University of Virginia Library

Beauty and Law.

A Poetical Pleading.