Poems on Several Occasions By Edward, Lord Thurlow. The Second Edition, considerably enlarged |
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| 17. | 17. TO THE VERY NOBLE, AND ACCOMPLISHED, THE LORD HOLLAND:
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
139
17. TO THE VERY NOBLE, AND ACCOMPLISHED, THE LORD HOLLAND:
WITH MY BOOK OF POEMS.
What here, imperfect, I have writ,
But with no vulgar pen,
To noble Holland I commit,
Deep read in books, and men:
But with no vulgar pen,
To noble Holland I commit,
Deep read in books, and men:
His favour may protect the lines,
Which, if his judgment sway'd,
Compar'd with those more pure designs,
Must in the contrast fade.
Which, if his judgment sway'd,
Compar'd with those more pure designs,
Must in the contrast fade.
140
Yet, though we judge the racer's speed
From his more weak essays,
We think not in the tender mead
To match his after days.
From his more weak essays,
We think not in the tender mead
To match his after days.
Perhaps, if time and grace be spar'd,
We may prepare a flight,
Wherein the heights of glory dar'd,
And the o'er-fabled Night,
We may prepare a flight,
Wherein the heights of glory dar'd,
And the o'er-fabled Night,
From out those adamantine gates,
And plains of penal woe,
We may, returning to our mates,
In blameless triumph go.
And plains of penal woe,
We may, returning to our mates,
In blameless triumph go.
I think, my Lord, to build a verse,
Which, if our language hold,
Shall through the sides of darkness pierce,
And to all time unfold,
Which, if our language hold,
Shall through the sides of darkness pierce,
And to all time unfold,
141
In language of thrice-golden praise,
And ever-dear delight,
What lives amid' th' Olympick ways,
And in the shoreless Night:
And ever-dear delight,
What lives amid' th' Olympick ways,
And in the shoreless Night:
With all, that of more ancient date,
Of fables sweet and pure,
Great bards have wisely snatch'd from fate,
And bade 'till now endure:
Of fables sweet and pure,
Great bards have wisely snatch'd from fate,
And bade 'till now endure:
Not leaving, with thy wisest aid,
O sweet Philosophy,
To have that hidden wealth display'd,
Which doth in Nature lie:
O sweet Philosophy,
To have that hidden wealth display'd,
Which doth in Nature lie:
So may I earn, (be Envy far!)
The long-disused crown,
The milk-white steeds, and golden car;
The while, with Musick's sown
The long-disused crown,
The milk-white steeds, and golden car;
The while, with Musick's sown
142
We softly to the temples move,
And, where the altars flame,
Lay down the trophies of our love,
And the bright spoils of fame.
And, where the altars flame,
Lay down the trophies of our love,
And the bright spoils of fame.
Meantime, my Lord, let your great mind,
Where all the Virtues reign,
And all the Graces, thrice-refin'd,
A perfect rule maintain,
Where all the Virtues reign,
And all the Graces, thrice-refin'd,
A perfect rule maintain,
Who are unto the Muses dear,
And crown'd their eldest Son,
Protect me with your favour clear,
Till this soft spoil be won.
And crown'd their eldest Son,
Protect me with your favour clear,
Till this soft spoil be won.
Whene'er upon the golden arch
I see the Morning speed,
I long to be upon my march
To that immortal meed:
I see the Morning speed,
I long to be upon my march
To that immortal meed:
143
For many times that golden God
Must fill the World with light,
And many times must quit his road,
For the dark waves of Night,
Must fill the World with light,
And many times must quit his road,
For the dark waves of Night,
Ere yet to that disused shore
My guided feet shall come,
And find great Nature's hidden store,
Laid in her sacred home.
My guided feet shall come,
And find great Nature's hidden store,
Laid in her sacred home.
Within that garden if I find
One flow'r more pure and fair,
More sweet and fragrant to the mind,
Than flow'rs in Enna are;
One flow'r more pure and fair,
More sweet and fragrant to the mind,
Than flow'rs in Enna are;
Some true importing words I'll breathe,
And the sweet treasure pull,
To place it in your golden wreath,
Of life and beauty full.
And the sweet treasure pull,
To place it in your golden wreath,
Of life and beauty full.
144
Nor You, my Lord, the gift disdain:
Great Manso not disdain'd
The service of that learned swain,
Who of Godfredo feign'd
Great Manso not disdain'd
The service of that learned swain,
Who of Godfredo feign'd
The mighty wars, the blameless thought,
The sweet parental care,
And Salem's sacred story wrought,
Which time shall ever spare:
The sweet parental care,
And Salem's sacred story wrought,
Which time shall ever spare:
Nor yet did wise Hippolito
That Tuscan artist scorn,
Who drew the fair Angelica
In colours, like the Morn,
That Tuscan artist scorn,
Who drew the fair Angelica
In colours, like the Morn,
And painted, O divinest thought!
That vast heroick mind,
By love to fatal madness brought,
And sunk in ruin blind!
That vast heroick mind,
By love to fatal madness brought,
And sunk in ruin blind!
145
O boundless Poet, can it be,
That, in these later times,
We may attain the majesty
Of your immortal rhymes?
That, in these later times,
We may attain the majesty
Of your immortal rhymes?
The favour of the great and wise
Can lift the purest mind
To turn it's coursers to the skies,
And leave the World behind!
Can lift the purest mind
To turn it's coursers to the skies,
And leave the World behind!
| Poems on Several Occasions | |