Occasional Poems Translations, Fables, Tales, &c. By William Somervile |
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To the Right Honourable the Earl of HALIFAX,
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 | Occasional Poems |  |
104
To the Right Honourable the Earl of HALIFAX,
With the Fable of the Two Springs.
O
Halifax! a Name for ever dear
To Phœbus, and which all the Nine revere;
Accept this humble Pledge of my Esteem,
So justly thine, Benevolence my Theme.
To Phœbus, and which all the Nine revere;
Accept this humble Pledge of my Esteem,
So justly thine, Benevolence my Theme.
In mystick Tales, and Parables, of old
Grave Eastern Seers instructive Lessons told;
Wise Greece from them receiv'd the happy Plan,
And taught the Brute to pedagogue the Man.
The Matron Truth appears with better Grace,
When well-wrought Fables veil her rev'rend Face:
Dry Precept may instruct, but can't delight,
While pleasing Fictions all our Pow'rs excite.
Our busy Minds each Faculty employ,
And range around, and start their Game with Joy;
Pleas'd with the Chace, make the rich Prey their own,
And glory in the Conquests they have won.
Fable alone can crown the Poet's Brow,
Upon his Works immortal Charms bestow:
And 'twere a Sin that Method to disprove,
Which Heav'n has fix'd by Sanctions from above.
My humble Muse in calm Retirement roves
Near mossy Fountains, and near shady Groves:
Yet even there, her loyal Hands wou'd raise
Some rural Trophy to her Monarch's Praise;
Instruct those Fountains and those Groves to show,
What copious Blessings from his Bounty flow;
While Flow'rs, and Shrubs, bless his propitious Aid,
His Urn refreshing, or protecting Shade.
Great Friend of Human Kind! thy pious Hand
Nor wounds to kill, nor conquers to command.
Let haughty Tyrants of false Glory dream,
Without Remorse pursue the bloody Scheme;
To Fame forbidden tread the lawless Way,
And o'er the ravag'd World extend their Sway:
'Tis thine (Great George) to guard thy fav'rite Isle
From open Force, and ev'ry secret Wile,
To raise th' Oppress'd, to make the Captives smile;
To pay just Heav'n what righteous Monarchs owe,
And like that Heav'n, to bless the World below:
To build new Temples, to repair the old,
To bring the straggling Sheep into the Fold,
And by wise Laws restore an Age of Gold.
Ye blissful Seats where Tame and Isis join,
Lovely Retirement of the sacred Nine,
Parent of Arts, and once my sweet Abode,
Can ye forget the Blessings he bestow'd?
Can Sophistry prevail against that Prince,
Whose Mercy and Beneficence convince?
Oh! touch each tuneful String, let ev'ry Muse
From all her Stores her noblest Pœans chuse;
Pay what she can in tributary Lays,
And to his Virtue grant Supplies of Praise.
To all the World your grateful Hearts make known,
And in your Monarch's Fame record your own.
His Fame—which Envy's Breath can never blast,
But Ages yet to come shall join the past,
And Brunswick's Glory with the World shall last.
Grave Eastern Seers instructive Lessons told;
Wise Greece from them receiv'd the happy Plan,
And taught the Brute to pedagogue the Man.
105
When well-wrought Fables veil her rev'rend Face:
Dry Precept may instruct, but can't delight,
While pleasing Fictions all our Pow'rs excite.
Our busy Minds each Faculty employ,
And range around, and start their Game with Joy;
Pleas'd with the Chace, make the rich Prey their own,
And glory in the Conquests they have won.
Fable alone can crown the Poet's Brow,
Upon his Works immortal Charms bestow:
And 'twere a Sin that Method to disprove,
Which Heav'n has fix'd by Sanctions from above.
My humble Muse in calm Retirement roves
Near mossy Fountains, and near shady Groves:
Yet even there, her loyal Hands wou'd raise
Some rural Trophy to her Monarch's Praise;
106
What copious Blessings from his Bounty flow;
While Flow'rs, and Shrubs, bless his propitious Aid,
His Urn refreshing, or protecting Shade.
Great Friend of Human Kind! thy pious Hand
Nor wounds to kill, nor conquers to command.
Let haughty Tyrants of false Glory dream,
Without Remorse pursue the bloody Scheme;
To Fame forbidden tread the lawless Way,
And o'er the ravag'd World extend their Sway:
'Tis thine (Great George) to guard thy fav'rite Isle
From open Force, and ev'ry secret Wile,
To raise th' Oppress'd, to make the Captives smile;
To pay just Heav'n what righteous Monarchs owe,
And like that Heav'n, to bless the World below:
107
To bring the straggling Sheep into the Fold,
And by wise Laws restore an Age of Gold.
Ye blissful Seats where Tame and Isis join,
Lovely Retirement of the sacred Nine,
Parent of Arts, and once my sweet Abode,
Can ye forget the Blessings he bestow'd?
Can Sophistry prevail against that Prince,
Whose Mercy and Beneficence convince?
Oh! touch each tuneful String, let ev'ry Muse
From all her Stores her noblest Pœans chuse;
Pay what she can in tributary Lays,
And to his Virtue grant Supplies of Praise.
To all the World your grateful Hearts make known,
And in your Monarch's Fame record your own.
His Fame—which Envy's Breath can never blast,
But Ages yet to come shall join the past,
And Brunswick's Glory with the World shall last.
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