The Powers of the Pen A poem addressed to John Curre ... By E. Lloyd ... The second edition, with large additions |
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 | The Powers of the Pen |  |
How much a Friend to Man were He,
Who cou'd give inward Liberty!
But where shall we explore the Quill,
By Nature taught with wond'rous Skill,
Man's ev'ry Quality to paint,
From Sinners to the purest Saint;
From Peasants to empurpled Kings,
And trace from whence their diff'rence springs:
Actions and Passions to display,
And in their native Robes array:
To point out, with Discernment nice,
Each Humour, Temper, Virtue, Vice;
Her Charter to the Soul unfold,
And how her Freedom she may hold?
For Gifts like these, and Talents rare,
What Pen with Shakespear's shall compare?
Which from a Phœnix' golden Wing
The Muses pluck'd, and taught to sing;
Steep'd in the Quintessence of Thought,
And to their fav'rite Poet brought:
And when the magic Quill they slit,
Within it shut the God of Wit;
Who with his Station pleas'd (for He
With the politest Gallantry,
Is all Compliance, and will close
With every Frolic they propose)
With lavish Hand his Gifts bestow'd,
Which thro' the inky Channel flow'd;
And all his Wisdom he display'd,
To grace the Pen the Muses made.
From this frank bounty of the God,
Wherever human Foot e'er trod,
Whatever Path, whatever Road,
In Quest of Happiness' Abode,
Or seeking the sequester'd Cell,
Where Virtue and her Children dwell;
Whether the destin'd Journey be,
O'er the steep Hills of Royalty;
Or Chance, or Choice, has fix'd our Doom,
Bewilder'd in its thickest Gloom,
The humbler Vale of Life to tread,
By Error's twinkling Lamp misled,
Shakespear holds sorth Apollo's Ray,
To light the Pilgrim on his Way.
Who cou'd give inward Liberty!
But where shall we explore the Quill,
By Nature taught with wond'rous Skill,
Man's ev'ry Quality to paint,
From Sinners to the purest Saint;
From Peasants to empurpled Kings,
And trace from whence their diff'rence springs:
Actions and Passions to display,
And in their native Robes array:
To point out, with Discernment nice,
Each Humour, Temper, Virtue, Vice;
Her Charter to the Soul unfold,
And how her Freedom she may hold?
14
What Pen with Shakespear's shall compare?
Which from a Phœnix' golden Wing
The Muses pluck'd, and taught to sing;
Steep'd in the Quintessence of Thought,
And to their fav'rite Poet brought:
And when the magic Quill they slit,
Within it shut the God of Wit;
Who with his Station pleas'd (for He
With the politest Gallantry,
Is all Compliance, and will close
With every Frolic they propose)
With lavish Hand his Gifts bestow'd,
Which thro' the inky Channel flow'd;
And all his Wisdom he display'd,
To grace the Pen the Muses made.
From this frank bounty of the God,
Wherever human Foot e'er trod,
Whatever Path, whatever Road,
In Quest of Happiness' Abode,
15
Where Virtue and her Children dwell;
Whether the destin'd Journey be,
O'er the steep Hills of Royalty;
Or Chance, or Choice, has fix'd our Doom,
Bewilder'd in its thickest Gloom,
The humbler Vale of Life to tread,
By Error's twinkling Lamp misled,
Shakespear holds sorth Apollo's Ray,
To light the Pilgrim on his Way.
| The Powers of the Pen | |