Various pieces in verse and prose By the late Nathaniel Cotton. Many of which were never before published. In two volumes |
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 | Various pieces in verse and prose |  |
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VARIOUS PIECES.
An Invocation of Happiness, after the Oriental Manner of Speech.
Tell me, O thou fairest among virgins1. Tell me, O thou fairest among virgins, where dost thou lay thy meek contented head?
2. Dost thou dwell upon the mountains; dost thou make thy couch in the vallies?
3. In the still watches of the night have I thought upon my fair-one; yea, in the visions of the night have I pursued thee.
4. When I awoke, my meditation was upon thee, and the day was spent in search after thy embraces.
5. Why dost thou flee from me, as the tender hind, or the young roe upon the hills?
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6. Without thy presence in vain blushes the rose, in vain glows the ruby, the cinnamon breatheth its fragrance in vain.
7. Shall I make thee a house of the rich cedars of Lebanon? shall I perfume it with all the spices of Arabia? Wilt thou be tempted with Sabean odours, with myrrh, frankincense, and aloes?
8. Doth my fair-one delight in palaces—doth she gladden the hearts of kings? The palaces are not a meet residence for my beloved—the princes of the earth are not favoured with the smiles of her countenance.
9. My fair-one is meek and humble, she dwelleth among the cottages, she tendeth the sheep upon the mountains, and lieth down amidst the flocks. The lilies of the field are her couch, and the heavens her canopy.
10. Her words are smoother than oil, more powerful than wine; her voice is as the voice of the turtle-dove.
11. Thou crownest the innocence of the husbandman, and the reward of virtue is with thee.
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[Reader, if fond of wonder and surprise]
“Time and Chance happeneth to them all.”
Ecclesiast. ch. ix. ver. 11.
Reader, if fond of wonder and surprise,
Behold in me ten thousand wonders rise.
Should I appear quite partial to my cause,
Shout my own praise, and vindicate applause;
Do not arraign my modesty or sense,
Nor deem my character a vain pretence.
Behold in me ten thousand wonders rise.
Should I appear quite partial to my cause,
Shout my own praise, and vindicate applause;
Do not arraign my modesty or sense,
Nor deem my character a vain pretence.
Know then I boast an origin and date
Coeval with the sun—without a mate
An offspring I beget in number more
Than all the crowded sands which form the shore.
That instant they are born, my precious breed
Ah me! expire—yet my departed seed
Enter like spectres, with commission'd power,
The secret chamber at the midnight hour;
Pervade alike the palace, and the shed,
The statesman's closet, and the rustic's bed;
Serene and sweet, like envoys from the skies,
To all the good, the virtuous, and the wise;
But to the vicious breast remorse they bring,
And bite like serpents, or like scorpions sting.
Coeval with the sun—without a mate
An offspring I beget in number more
Than all the crowded sands which form the shore.
That instant they are born, my precious breed
Ah me! expire—yet my departed seed
Enter like spectres, with commission'd power,
The secret chamber at the midnight hour;
Pervade alike the palace, and the shed,
The statesman's closet, and the rustic's bed;
Serene and sweet, like envoys from the skies,
To all the good, the virtuous, and the wise;
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And bite like serpents, or like scorpions sting.
Being and birth to sciences I give,
By me they rise thro' infancy and live;
By me meridian excellence display,
And, like autumnal fruits, by me decay.
When poets, and when painters are no more,
And all the feuds of rival wits are o'er;
'Tis mine to fix their merit and their claim,
I judge their works to darkness or to fame.
By me they rise thro' infancy and live;
By me meridian excellence display,
And, like autumnal fruits, by me decay.
When poets, and when painters are no more,
And all the feuds of rival wits are o'er;
'Tis mine to fix their merit and their claim,
I judge their works to darkness or to fame.
I am a monarch, whose victorious hands
No craft eludes, no regal power withstands.
My annals prove such mighty conquests won,
As shame the puny feats of Philip's son.
But tho' a king, I seldom sway alone,
The goddess Fortune often shares my throne.
The human eye detects our blended rule,
Here we exalt a knave, and there a fool.
Ask you what powers our sovereign laws obey?
Creation is our empire—we convey
Sceptres and crowns at will—as we ordain,
Kings abdicate their thrones, and peasants reign.
No craft eludes, no regal power withstands.
My annals prove such mighty conquests won,
As shame the puny feats of Philip's son.
But tho' a king, I seldom sway alone,
The goddess Fortune often shares my throne.
The human eye detects our blended rule,
Here we exalt a knave, and there a fool.
Ask you what powers our sovereign laws obey?
Creation is our empire—we convey
Sceptres and crowns at will—as we ordain,
Kings abdicate their thrones, and peasants reign.
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Lovers to us address the fervent prayer;
'Tis ours to soften or subdue the fair:
We now like angels smile, and now destroy,
Now bring, or blast, the long-expected joy.
At our fair shrine ambitious churchmen bow,
And crave the mitre to adorn the brow.
Go to the inns of court—the learned drudge
Implores our friendship to commence a judge.
Go, and consult the sons of Warwick Lane;
They own our favours, and adore our reign.
Theirs is the gold, 'tis true—but all men see
Our claim is better founded to the fee.
'Tis ours to soften or subdue the fair:
We now like angels smile, and now destroy,
Now bring, or blast, the long-expected joy.
At our fair shrine ambitious churchmen bow,
And crave the mitre to adorn the brow.
Go to the inns of court—the learned drudge
Implores our friendship to commence a judge.
Go, and consult the sons of Warwick Lane;
They own our favours, and adore our reign.
Theirs is the gold, 'tis true—but all men see
Our claim is better founded to the fee.
Reader, thus sublunary worlds we guide,
Thus o'er your natal planets we preside.
Kingdoms and kings are ours—to us they fall,
We carve their fortunes, and dispose of all.
Nor think that kings alone engross our choice,
The cobler sits attentive to our voice.
Thus o'er your natal planets we preside.
Kingdoms and kings are ours—to us they fall,
We carve their fortunes, and dispose of all.
Nor think that kings alone engross our choice,
The cobler sits attentive to our voice.
But since my colleague is a fickle she,
Abjure my colleague, and depend on me.
Either she sees not, or with partial eyes,
Either she grants amiss, or she denies.
But I, who pity those that wear her chain,
Scorn the capricious measures of her reign;
In every gift, and every grace excel,
And seldom fail their hopes, who use me well.
Yet tho' in me unnumber'd treasures shine,
Superior to the rich Peruvian mine!
Tho' men to my indulgence hourly owe
The choicest of their comforts here below:
(For men's best tenure, as the world agree,
Is all a perquisite deriv'd from me)
Still man's my foe! ungrateful man, I say,
Who meditates my murder every day.
What various scenes of death do men prepare!
And what assassinations plot the fair!
But know assuredly, who treat me ill,
Who mean to rob me, or who mean to kill;
Who view me with a cold regardless eye,
And let my favours pass unheeded by;
They shall lament their folly when too late;
So mourns the prodigal his lost estate!
Abjure my colleague, and depend on me.
Either she sees not, or with partial eyes,
Either she grants amiss, or she denies.
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Scorn the capricious measures of her reign;
In every gift, and every grace excel,
And seldom fail their hopes, who use me well.
Yet tho' in me unnumber'd treasures shine,
Superior to the rich Peruvian mine!
Tho' men to my indulgence hourly owe
The choicest of their comforts here below:
(For men's best tenure, as the world agree,
Is all a perquisite deriv'd from me)
Still man's my foe! ungrateful man, I say,
Who meditates my murder every day.
What various scenes of death do men prepare!
And what assassinations plot the fair!
But know assuredly, who treat me ill,
Who mean to rob me, or who mean to kill;
Who view me with a cold regardless eye,
And let my favours pass unheeded by;
They shall lament their folly when too late;
So mourns the prodigal his lost estate!
While they who with superior forethought blest,
Store all my lessons in their faithful breast;
(For where's the prelate, who can preach like me,
With equal reasoning, and persuasive plea,)
Who know that I am always on my wings,
And never stay in compliment to kings;
Who therefore watch me with an eagle's sight,
Arrest my pinions, or attend my flight;
Or if perchance they loiter'd in the race,
Chide their slow footsteps, and improve their pace;
Yes, these are wisdom's sons, and when they die,
Their virtues shall exalt them to the sky.
Store all my lessons in their faithful breast;
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With equal reasoning, and persuasive plea,)
Who know that I am always on my wings,
And never stay in compliment to kings;
Who therefore watch me with an eagle's sight,
Arrest my pinions, or attend my flight;
Or if perchance they loiter'd in the race,
Chide their slow footsteps, and improve their pace;
Yes, these are wisdom's sons, and when they die,
Their virtues shall exalt them to the sky.
An Enigma, inscribed to Miss P.
Cloe, I boast celestial date,
Ere time began to roll;
So wide my power, my sceptre spurns
The limits of the pole.
Ere time began to roll;
So wide my power, my sceptre spurns
The limits of the pole.
When from the mystic womb of night,
The Almighty call'd the earth;
I smil'd upon the infant world,
And grac'd the wondrous birth.
The Almighty call'd the earth;
I smil'd upon the infant world,
And grac'd the wondrous birth.
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Thro' the vast realms of boundless space,
I traverse uncontroll'd;
And starry orbs of proudest blaze
Inscribe my name in gold.
I traverse uncontroll'd;
And starry orbs of proudest blaze
Inscribe my name in gold.
There's not a monarch in the north
But bends the suppliant knee;
The haughty sultan waves his power.
And owns superior me.
But bends the suppliant knee;
The haughty sultan waves his power.
And owns superior me.
Both by the savage and the saint
My empire stands confest;
I thaw the ice on Greenland's coast,
And fire the Scythian's breast.
My empire stands confest;
I thaw the ice on Greenland's coast,
And fire the Scythian's breast.
To me the gay aërial tribes
Their glittering plumage owe;
With all the variegated pride
That decks the feather'd beau.
Their glittering plumage owe;
With all the variegated pride
That decks the feather'd beau.
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The meanest reptiles of the land
My bounty too partake;
I paint the insect's trembling wing,
And gild the crested snake.
My bounty too partake;
I paint the insect's trembling wing,
And gild the crested snake.
Survey the nations of the deep,
You'll there my power behold;
My pencil drew the pearly scale,
And sin bedropt with gold.
You'll there my power behold;
My pencil drew the pearly scale,
And sin bedropt with gold.
I give the virgin's lip to glow,
I claim the crimson dye;
Mine is the rose which spreads the cheek,
And mine the brilliant eye.
I claim the crimson dye;
Mine is the rose which spreads the cheek,
And mine the brilliant eye.
Then speak, my fair; for surely thou
My name canst best descry;
Who gave to thee with lavish hands
What thousands I deny.
My name canst best descry;
Who gave to thee with lavish hands
What thousands I deny.
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The Fireside.
Dear Cloe, while the busy croud,
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud,
In folly's maze advance;
Tho' singularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside,
Nor join the giddy dance.
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud,
In folly's maze advance;
Tho' singularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside,
Nor join the giddy dance.
From the gay world we'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,
Where love our hours employs;
No noisy neighbour enters here,
No intermeddling stranger near,
To spoil our heartfelt joys.
To our own family and fire,
Where love our hours employs;
No noisy neighbour enters here,
No intermeddling stranger near,
To spoil our heartfelt joys.
If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam;
The world hath nothing to bestow,
From our own selves our bliss must flow,
And that dear hut our home.
Within our breast this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam;
The world hath nothing to bestow,
From our own selves our bliss must flow,
And that dear hut our home.
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Of rest was Noah's dove bereft,
When with impatient wing she left
That safe retreat, the ark;
Giving her vain excursions o'er,
The disappointed bird once more
Explor'd the sacred bark.
When with impatient wing she left
That safe retreat, the ark;
Giving her vain excursions o'er,
The disappointed bird once more
Explor'd the sacred bark.
Tho' fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers,
We, who improve his golden hours,
By sweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good,
A paradise below.
We, who improve his golden hours,
By sweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good,
A paradise below.
Our babes shall richest comforts bring;
If tutor'd right they'll prove a spring,
Whence pleasures ever rise:
We'll form their minds with studious care,
To all that's manly, good, and fair,
And train them for the skies.
If tutor'd right they'll prove a spring,
Whence pleasures ever rise:
We'll form their minds with studious care,
To all that's manly, good, and fair,
And train them for the skies.
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While they our wisest hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, support our age,
And crown our hoary hairs;
They'll grow in virtue every day,
And they our fondest loves repay,
And recompense our cares.
They'll joy our youth, support our age,
And crown our hoary hairs;
They'll grow in virtue every day,
And they our fondest loves repay,
And recompense our cares.
No borrow'd joys! they're all our own,
While to the world we live unknown,
Or by the world forgot:
Monarchs! we envy not your state,
We look with pity on the Great,
And bless our humble lot.
While to the world we live unknown,
Or by the world forgot:
Monarchs! we envy not your state,
We look with pity on the Great,
And bless our humble lot.
Our portion is not large, indeed,
But then how little do we need,
For Nature's calls are few!
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may suffice,
And make that little do.
But then how little do we need,
For Nature's calls are few!
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may suffice,
And make that little do.
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We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind Providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our power;
For, if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.
Whate'er kind Providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our power;
For, if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.
To be resign'd when ills betide,
Patient when favours are deny'd,
And pleas'd with favours given;
Dear Cloe, this is wisdom's part,
This is that incense of the heart,
Whose fragrance smells to heaven.
Patient when favours are deny'd,
And pleas'd with favours given;
Dear Cloe, this is wisdom's part,
This is that incense of the heart,
Whose fragrance smells to heaven.
We'll ask no long-protracted treat,
Since winter-life is seldom sweet;
But, when our feast is o'er,
Grateful from table we'll arise,
Nor grudge our sons, with envious eyes,
The relics of our store.
Since winter-life is seldom sweet;
But, when our feast is o'er,
Grateful from table we'll arise,
Nor grudge our sons, with envious eyes,
The relics of our store.
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Thus hand in hand thro' life we'll go;
Its checker'd paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we'll tread;
Quit its vain scenes without a tear,
Without a trouble, or a fear,
And mingle with the dead.
Its checker'd paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we'll tread;
Quit its vain scenes without a tear,
Without a trouble, or a fear,
And mingle with the dead.
While conscience, like a faithful friend,
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend,
And cheer our dying breath;
Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel whisper peace,
And smooth the bed of death.
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend,
And cheer our dying breath;
Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel whisper peace,
And smooth the bed of death.
To some Children listening to a Lark.
See the Lark prunes his active wings,
Rises to heaven, and soars, and sings.
His morning hymns, his mid-day lays,
Are one continued song of praise.
He speaks his Maker all he can,
And shames the silent tongue of man.
Rises to heaven, and soars, and sings.
His morning hymns, his mid-day lays,
Are one continued song of praise.
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And shames the silent tongue of man.
When the declining orb of light
Reminds him of approaching night,
His warbling vespers swell his breast,
And as he sings he sinks to rest.
Reminds him of approaching night,
His warbling vespers swell his breast,
And as he sings he sinks to rest.
Shall birds instructive lessons teach,
And we be deaf to what they preach?
And we be deaf to what they preach?
No, ye dear nestlings of my heart,
Go, act the wiser songster's part.
Spurn your warm couch at early dawn,
And with your God begin the morn.
To Him your grateful tribute pay
Thro' every period of the day.
To Him your evening songs direct;
His eye shall watch, his arm protect.
Tho' darkness reigns, He's with you still,
Then sleep, my babes, and fear no ill.
Go, act the wiser songster's part.
Spurn your warm couch at early dawn,
And with your God begin the morn.
To Him your grateful tribute pay
Thro' every period of the day.
To Him your evening songs direct;
His eye shall watch, his arm protect.
Tho' darkness reigns, He's with you still,
Then sleep, my babes, and fear no ill.
71
To a Child of five Years old.
Fairest flower, all flowers excelling,
Which in Milton's page we see;
Flowers of Eve's embower'd dwelling
Are, my fair one, types of thee.
Which in Milton's page we see;
Flowers of Eve's embower'd dwelling
Are, my fair one, types of thee.
Mark, my Polly, how the roses
Emulate thy damask cheek;
How the bud its sweets discloses—
Buds thy opening bloom bespeak.
Emulate thy damask cheek;
How the bud its sweets discloses—
Buds thy opening bloom bespeak.
Lilies are by plain direction
Emblems of a double kind;
Emblems of thy fair complexion,
Emblems of thy fairer mind.
Emblems of a double kind;
Emblems of thy fair complexion,
Emblems of thy fairer mind.
But, dear girl, both flowers and beauty
Blossom, fade, and die away;
Then pursue good sense and duty,
Evergreens! which ne'er decay.
Blossom, fade, and die away;
Then pursue good sense and duty,
Evergreens! which ne'er decay.
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On Lord Cobham's Garden.
It puzzles much the sages' brains,
Where Eden stood of yore;
Some place it in Arabia's plains,
Some say it is no more.
Where Eden stood of yore;
Some place it in Arabia's plains,
Some say it is no more.
But Cobham can these tales confute,
As all the curious know;
For he hath prov'd, beyond dispute,
That Paradise is Stow.
As all the curious know;
For he hath prov'd, beyond dispute,
That Paradise is Stow.
Tomorrow.
Pereunt et imputantur.
Tomorrow, didst thou say!
Methought I heard Horatio say, Tomorrow.
Go to—I will not hear of it—Tomorrow!
'Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury
Against thy plenty—who takes thy ready cash,
And pays thee nought but wishes, hopes, and promises,
The currency of idiots. Injurious bankrupt,
That gulls the easy creditor!—Tomorrow!
It is a period nowhere to be found
In all the hoary registers of time,
Unless perchance in the fool's calendar.
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society
With those who own it. No, my Horatio,
'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father;
Wrought of such stuff as dreams are; and baseless
As the fantastic visions of the evening.
Methought I heard Horatio say, Tomorrow.
Go to—I will not hear of it—Tomorrow!
'Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury
Against thy plenty—who takes thy ready cash,
And pays thee nought but wishes, hopes, and promises,
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That gulls the easy creditor!—Tomorrow!
It is a period nowhere to be found
In all the hoary registers of time,
Unless perchance in the fool's calendar.
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society
With those who own it. No, my Horatio,
'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father;
Wrought of such stuff as dreams are; and baseless
As the fantastic visions of the evening.
But soft, my friend—arrest the present moments;
For be assur'd, they all are arrant tell-tales;
And tho' their flight be silent, and their path trackless
As the wing'd couriers of the air,
They post to heaven, and there record thy folly.
Because, tho' station'd on the important watch,
Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel,
Didst let them pass unnotic'd, unimprov'd.
And know, for that thou slumber'dst on the guard,
Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar
For every fugitive: and when thou thus
Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal
Of hood-winkt justice, who shall tell thy audit!
For be assur'd, they all are arrant tell-tales;
And tho' their flight be silent, and their path trackless
As the wing'd couriers of the air,
They post to heaven, and there record thy folly.
Because, tho' station'd on the important watch,
Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel,
Didst let them pass unnotic'd, unimprov'd.
And know, for that thou slumber'dst on the guard,
Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar
For every fugitive: and when thou thus
Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal
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Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio;
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings.
'Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more precious
Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain!—
Oh! let it not elude thy grasp, but, like
The good old patriarch upon record,
Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings.
'Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more precious
Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain!—
Oh! let it not elude thy grasp, but, like
The good old patriarch upon record,
Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.
An Allusion to Horace, Ode XVI. Book II.
Inscribed to H. W. Esq.
Otium divos rogat in patenti
Prensus Ægæo, simul atra nubes
Condidit lunam, neque certa fulgent
Sidera nautis, &c.
Prensus Ægæo, simul atra nubes
Condidit lunam, neque certa fulgent
Sidera nautis, &c.
Say, heavenly Quiet, propitious nymph of light,
Why art thou thus conceal'd from human sight?
Tir'd of life's follies, fain I'd gain thy arms,
Oh! take me panting to thy peaceful charms;
Sooth my wild soul, in thy soft fetters caught,
And calm the surges of tumultuous thought.
Why art thou thus conceal'd from human sight?
Tir'd of life's follies, fain I'd gain thy arms,
Oh! take me panting to thy peaceful charms;
Sooth my wild soul, in thy soft fetters caught,
And calm the surges of tumultuous thought.
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Thee, goddess, thee all states of life implore,
The merchant seeks thee on the foreign shore:
Thro' frozen zones and burning isles he flies,
And tempts the various horrors of the skies.
Nor frozen zones, nor burning isles control
That thirst of gain, that fever of the soul.
But mark the change—impending storms affright,
Array'd in all the majesty of night—
The raging winds, discharg'd their mystic caves,
Roar the dire signal to th'insulting waves.
The foaming legions charge the ribs of oak,
And the pale fiend presents at every stroke.
To Thee the unhappy wretch in pale despair
Bends the weak knee, and lifts the hand in prayer;
Views the sad cheat, and swears he'll ne'er again
Range the hot clime, or trust the faithless main,
Or own so mean a thought, that Thou art brib'd by gain.
The merchant seeks thee on the foreign shore:
Thro' frozen zones and burning isles he flies,
And tempts the various horrors of the skies.
Nor frozen zones, nor burning isles control
That thirst of gain, that fever of the soul.
But mark the change—impending storms affright,
Array'd in all the majesty of night—
The raging winds, discharg'd their mystic caves,
Roar the dire signal to th'insulting waves.
The foaming legions charge the ribs of oak,
And the pale fiend presents at every stroke.
To Thee the unhappy wretch in pale despair
Bends the weak knee, and lifts the hand in prayer;
Views the sad cheat, and swears he'll ne'er again
Range the hot clime, or trust the faithless main,
Or own so mean a thought, that Thou art brib'd by gain.
To Thee the harness'd chief devotes his breath,
And braves the thousand avenues of death;
Now red with fury seeks th'embattled plain,
Wades floods of gore, and scales the hills of slain;
Now on the fort with winged vengeance falls,
And tempts the sevenfold thunders of the walls.
Mistaken man! the nymph of peace disdains
The roar of cannons, and the smoke of plains:
With milder incense let thy altars blaze,
And in a softer note attempt her praise.
What various herds attend the virgin's gate,
Abject in wealth, and impotent in state!
A crowd of offerings on the altar lie,
And idly strive to tempt her from the sky:
But here the rich magnificence of kings
Are specious trifles all, and all unheeded things.
No outward show celestial bosoms warms,
The gaudy purple boasts inglorious charms;
The gold here, conscious of its abject birth,
Only presumes to be superior earth.
In vain the gem its sparkling tribute pays,
And meanly tremulates in borrow'd rays.
On these the nymph with scornful smiles looks down,
Nor e'er elects the favourite of a crown.
Supremely great, she views us from afar,
Nor deigns to own a sultan or a czar.
Did real happiness attend on state,
How would I pant and labour to be great!
To court I'd hasten with impetuous speed;
But to be great's to be a wretch indeed.
And braves the thousand avenues of death;
Now red with fury seeks th'embattled plain,
Wades floods of gore, and scales the hills of slain;
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And tempts the sevenfold thunders of the walls.
Mistaken man! the nymph of peace disdains
The roar of cannons, and the smoke of plains:
With milder incense let thy altars blaze,
And in a softer note attempt her praise.
What various herds attend the virgin's gate,
Abject in wealth, and impotent in state!
A crowd of offerings on the altar lie,
And idly strive to tempt her from the sky:
But here the rich magnificence of kings
Are specious trifles all, and all unheeded things.
No outward show celestial bosoms warms,
The gaudy purple boasts inglorious charms;
The gold here, conscious of its abject birth,
Only presumes to be superior earth.
In vain the gem its sparkling tribute pays,
And meanly tremulates in borrow'd rays.
On these the nymph with scornful smiles looks down,
Nor e'er elects the favourite of a crown.
Supremely great, she views us from afar,
Nor deigns to own a sultan or a czar.
77
How would I pant and labour to be great!
To court I'd hasten with impetuous speed;
But to be great's to be a wretch indeed.
I speak of sacred truths; believe me, Hugh,
The real wants of nature are but few.
Poor are the charms of gold—a generous heart
Would blush to own a bliss, that these impart.
'Tis he alone the muse dares happy call,
Who with superior thought enjoys his little all.
Within his breast no frantic passions roll,
Soft are the motions of the virtuous soul.
The night in silken slumbers glides away,
And a sweet calm leads in the smiling day.
The real wants of nature are but few.
Poor are the charms of gold—a generous heart
Would blush to own a bliss, that these impart.
'Tis he alone the muse dares happy call,
Who with superior thought enjoys his little all.
Within his breast no frantic passions roll,
Soft are the motions of the virtuous soul.
The night in silken slumbers glides away,
And a sweet calm leads in the smiling day.
What antic notions form the human mind!
Perversely mad, and obstinately blind.
Life in its large extent is scarce a span,
Yet, wondrous frenzy! great designs we plan,
And shoot our thoughts beyond the date of man.
Perversely mad, and obstinately blind.
Life in its large extent is scarce a span,
Yet, wondrous frenzy! great designs we plan,
And shoot our thoughts beyond the date of man.
Man, that vain creature's but a wretched elf,
And lives at constant enmity with self;
Swears to a southern climate he'll repair,
But who can change the mind by changing air?
Italia's plains may purify the blood,
And with a nobler purple paint the flood;
But can soft zephyrs aid th'ill-shapen thigh,
Or form to beauty the distorted eye?
Can they with life inform the thoughtless clay?
Then a kind gale might waft my cares away.
Where roves the muse?—'tis all a dream, my friend,
All a wild thought—for care, that ghastly fiend,
That mighty prince of the infernal powers,
Haunts the still watches of the midnight hours.
In vain the man the night's protection sought,
Care stings like pois'nous asps to fury wrought,
And wakes the mind to all the pains of thought.
Not the wing'd ship, that sweeps the level main,
Not the young roe that bounds along the plain,
Are swift as Care—that monster leaves behind
The aerial courser and the fleeter wind;
Thro' every clime performs a constant part,
And sheaths its painful daggers in the heart.
And lives at constant enmity with self;
78
But who can change the mind by changing air?
Italia's plains may purify the blood,
And with a nobler purple paint the flood;
But can soft zephyrs aid th'ill-shapen thigh,
Or form to beauty the distorted eye?
Can they with life inform the thoughtless clay?
Then a kind gale might waft my cares away.
Where roves the muse?—'tis all a dream, my friend,
All a wild thought—for care, that ghastly fiend,
That mighty prince of the infernal powers,
Haunts the still watches of the midnight hours.
In vain the man the night's protection sought,
Care stings like pois'nous asps to fury wrought,
And wakes the mind to all the pains of thought.
Not the wing'd ship, that sweeps the level main,
Not the young roe that bounds along the plain,
Are swift as Care—that monster leaves behind
The aerial courser and the fleeter wind;
Thro' every clime performs a constant part,
And sheaths its painful daggers in the heart.
79
Ah! why should man an idle game pursue,
To future May-be's stretch the distant view?
May more exalted thoughts our hours employ,
And wisely strive to taste the present joy.
Life's an inconstant sea—the prudent ply
With every oar to improve th'auspicious sky:
But if black clouds the angry heav'ns deform,
A chearful mind will sweeten every storm.
Tho' fools expect their joys to flow sincere,
Yet none can boast eternal sunshine here.
To future May-be's stretch the distant view?
May more exalted thoughts our hours employ,
And wisely strive to taste the present joy.
Life's an inconstant sea—the prudent ply
With every oar to improve th'auspicious sky:
But if black clouds the angry heav'ns deform,
A chearful mind will sweeten every storm.
Tho' fools expect their joys to flow sincere,
Yet none can boast eternal sunshine here.
The youthful chief, that like a summer flower
Shines a whole life in one precarious hour,
Impatient of restraint demands the fight,
While painted triumphs swim before his sight.
Forbear, brave youth, thy bold designs give o'er,
Ere the next morn shall dawn, thou'lt be no more;
Invidious death shall blast thy opening bloom,
Scarce blown, thou fad'st, scarce born, thou meet'st a tomb.
Shines a whole life in one precarious hour,
Impatient of restraint demands the fight,
While painted triumphs swim before his sight.
Forbear, brave youth, thy bold designs give o'er,
Ere the next morn shall dawn, thou'lt be no more;
Invidious death shall blast thy opening bloom,
Scarce blown, thou fad'st, scarce born, thou meet'st a tomb.
What tho', my friend, the young are swept away,
Untimely cropt in the proud blaze of day;
Yet when life's spring on purple wings is flown,
And the brisk flood a noisome puddle grown;
When the dark eye shall roll its orb for light,
And the roll'd orb confess impervious night;
When once untun'd the ear's contorted cell,
The silver cords unbrace the sounding shell;
Thy sick'ning soul no more a joy shall find,
Music no more shall stay thy lab'ring mind.
The breathing canvas glows in vain for thee,
In vain it blooms a gay eternity.
With thee the statue's boasts of life are o'er,
And Cæsar animates the brass no more.
The flaming ruby, and the rich brocade,
The sprightly ball, the mimic masquerade
Now charm in vain—in vain the jovial god
With blushing goblets plies the dormant clod.
Untimely cropt in the proud blaze of day;
80
And the brisk flood a noisome puddle grown;
When the dark eye shall roll its orb for light,
And the roll'd orb confess impervious night;
When once untun'd the ear's contorted cell,
The silver cords unbrace the sounding shell;
Thy sick'ning soul no more a joy shall find,
Music no more shall stay thy lab'ring mind.
The breathing canvas glows in vain for thee,
In vain it blooms a gay eternity.
With thee the statue's boasts of life are o'er,
And Cæsar animates the brass no more.
The flaming ruby, and the rich brocade,
The sprightly ball, the mimic masquerade
Now charm in vain—in vain the jovial god
With blushing goblets plies the dormant clod.
Then why thus fond to draw superfluous breath,
When every gasp protracts a painful death?
Age is a ghastly scene, cares, doubts, and fears,
One dull rough road of sighs, groans, pains, and tears.
When every gasp protracts a painful death?
Age is a ghastly scene, cares, doubts, and fears,
One dull rough road of sighs, groans, pains, and tears.
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Let not ambitious views usurp thy soul,
Ambition, friend, ambition grasps the pole.
The lustful eye on wealth's bright strand you fix,
And sigh for grandeur and a coach and six;
With golden stars you long to blend your fate,
And with the garter'd lordling slide in state.
An humbler theme my pensive hours employs,
(Hear ye sweet heavens, and speed the distant joys!
Of these possess'd I'd scorn to court renown,
Or bless the happy coxcombs of the town.)
To me, ye gods, these only gifts impart,
An easy fortune, and a cheerful heart;
A little muse, and innocently gay,
In sportive song to trifle cares away.
Two wishes gain'd, love forms the last and best,
And heaven's bright master-piece shall crown the rest.
Ambition, friend, ambition grasps the pole.
The lustful eye on wealth's bright strand you fix,
And sigh for grandeur and a coach and six;
With golden stars you long to blend your fate,
And with the garter'd lordling slide in state.
An humbler theme my pensive hours employs,
(Hear ye sweet heavens, and speed the distant joys!
Of these possess'd I'd scorn to court renown,
Or bless the happy coxcombs of the town.)
To me, ye gods, these only gifts impart,
An easy fortune, and a cheerful heart;
A little muse, and innocently gay,
In sportive song to trifle cares away.
Two wishes gain'd, love forms the last and best,
And heaven's bright master-piece shall crown the rest.
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An Epitaph upon Mr. Thomas Strong, who died on the 26th of December, 1736.
In action prudent, and in word sincere,
In friendship faithful, and in honour clear;
Thro' life's vain scenes the same in every part,
A steady judgment, and an honest heart.
Thou vaunt'st no honours—all thy boast a mind
As infants guileless, and as angels kind.
In friendship faithful, and in honour clear;
Thro' life's vain scenes the same in every part,
A steady judgment, and an honest heart.
Thou vaunt'st no honours—all thy boast a mind
As infants guileless, and as angels kind.
When ask'd to whom these lovely truths belong,
Thy friends shall answer, weeping, “Here lies Strong.”
Thy friends shall answer, weeping, “Here lies Strong.”
Epitaph upon Miss Gee, Who died October 25, 1736, Ætat. 28.
Beauteous, nor known to pride, to friends sincere,
Mild to thy neighbour, to thyself severe;
Unstain'd thy honour—and thy wit was such,
Knew no extremes, nor little, nor too much.
Few were thy years, and painful thro' the whole,
Yet calm thy passage, and serene thy soul.
Mild to thy neighbour, to thyself severe;
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Knew no extremes, nor little, nor too much.
Few were thy years, and painful thro' the whole,
Yet calm thy passage, and serene thy soul.
Reader, amidst these sacred crowds that sleep
,
View this once lovely form, nor grudge to weep.—
O death, all terrible! how sure thy hour!
How wide thy conquests! and how fell thy power!
When youth, wit, virtue, plead for longer reign,
When youth, when wit, when virtue plead in vain;
Stranger, then weep afresh—for know this clay
Was once the good, the wise, the beautiful, the gay.
View this once lovely form, nor grudge to weep.—
O death, all terrible! how sure thy hour!
How wide thy conquests! and how fell thy power!
When youth, wit, virtue, plead for longer reign,
When youth, when wit, when virtue plead in vain;
Stranger, then weep afresh—for know this clay
Was once the good, the wise, the beautiful, the gay.
The author is supposed to be inscribing the character of the deceased upon her tomb, and therefore “crowds that sleep,” mean the dead.
REBUS.
[That awful name which oft inspires]
That awful name which oft inspiresImpatient hopes, and fond desires,
Can to another pain impart,
And thrill with fear the shudd'ring heart.
84
O'er the still chambers of the dead.
Say, what contains the breathless clay,
When the fleet soul is wing'd away?—
Those marble monuments proclaim
My little wily wanton's name.
TOMBS.
REBUS.
[The golden stem, with generous aid]
The golden stem, with generous aid,Supports and feeds the fruitful blade.
The queen, who rul'd a thankless isle,
And gladden'd thousands with her smile
(When the well-manag'd pound of gold
Did more, than now the sum thrice told;)
This stem of Ceres, and the fair
Of Stuart's house, a name declare,
Where goodness is with beauty join'd,
Where queen and goddess both combin'd
To form an emblem of the mind.
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REBUS.
[The light-footed female that bounds o'er the hills]
The light-footed female that bounds o'er the hills,That feeds among lilies, and drinks of the rills,
And is fam'd for being tender and true;
Which Solomon deemed a simile rare,
To liken the two pretty breasts of his fair,
Is the name of the nymph I pursue.
ROE.
ANOTHER.
[Tell me the fair, if such a fair there be]
Tell me the fair, if such a fair there be,Said Venus to her son, that rivals me.
Mark the tall tree, cried Cupid to the Dame,
That from its silver bark derives its name;
The studious insect, that, with wondrous pow'rs,
Extracts mysterious sweets from fragrant flow'rs;
Proclaim the nymph to whom all hearts submit,
Whose sweetness softens majesty and wit.
ASHBY.
86
Some hasty Rhimes on Sleep.
Mysterious deity, impart
From whence thou com'st, and what thou art.
I feel thy pow'r, thy reign I bless,
But what I feel, I can't express.
Thou bind'st my limbs, but canstn't restrain
The busy workings of the brain.
From whence thou com'st, and what thou art.
I feel thy pow'r, thy reign I bless,
But what I feel, I can't express.
Thou bind'st my limbs, but canstn't restrain
The busy workings of the brain.
All nations of the air and land
Ask the soft blessing at thy hand.
The reptiles of the frozen zone
Are close attendants on thy throne;
Where painted basilisks infold
Their azure scales in rolls of gold.
Ask the soft blessing at thy hand.
The reptiles of the frozen zone
Are close attendants on thy throne;
Where painted basilisks infold
Their azure scales in rolls of gold.
The slave, that's destin'd to the oar,
In one kind vision swims to shore;
The lover meets the willing fair,
And fondly grasps impassive air.
Last night the happy miser told
Twice twenty thousand pounds in gold.
In one kind vision swims to shore;
The lover meets the willing fair,
And fondly grasps impassive air.
Last night the happy miser told
Twice twenty thousand pounds in gold.
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The purple tenant of the crown
Implores thy aid on beds of down:
While Lubbin, and his healthy bride,
Obtain what monarchs are denied.
Implores thy aid on beds of down:
While Lubbin, and his healthy bride,
Obtain what monarchs are denied.
The garter'd statesman thou wouldst own,
But rebel conscience spurns thy throne;
Braves all the poppies of the fields,
And the fam'd gum that Turkey yields.
But rebel conscience spurns thy throne;
Braves all the poppies of the fields,
And the fam'd gum that Turkey yields.
While the good man, oppress'd with pain,
Shall court thy smiles, nor sue in vain.
Propitious thou'lt his prayer attend,
And prove his guardian and his friend.
Thy faithful hands shall make his bed,
And thy soft arm support his head.
Shall court thy smiles, nor sue in vain.
Propitious thou'lt his prayer attend,
And prove his guardian and his friend.
Thy faithful hands shall make his bed,
And thy soft arm support his head.
88
A REBUS.
[The name of the monarch that abandon'd his throne]
The name of the monarch that abandon'd his throne,Is the name of the fair, I prefer to his crown.
JAMES.
A SONG.
[Tell me, my Cælia, why so coy]
Tell me, my Cælia, why so coy,
Of men so much afraid;
Cælia, 'tis better far to die
A mother than a maid.
Of men so much afraid;
Cælia, 'tis better far to die
A mother than a maid.
The rose, when past its damask hue,
Is always out of favour;
And when the plum hath lost its blue,
It loses too its flavour.
Is always out of favour;
And when the plum hath lost its blue,
It loses too its flavour.
To vernal flow'rs the rolling years
Returning beauty bring;
But faded once, thou'lt bloom no more,
Nor know a second spring.
Returning beauty bring;
But faded once, thou'lt bloom no more,
Nor know a second spring.
89
A Sunday Hymn, in Imitation of Dr. Watts.
This is the day the Lord of life
Ascended to the skies;
My thoughts, pursue the lofty theme,
And to the heav'ns arise.
Ascended to the skies;
My thoughts, pursue the lofty theme,
And to the heav'ns arise.
Let no vain cares divert my mind
From this celestial road;
Nor all the honours of the earth
Detain my soul from God.
From this celestial road;
Nor all the honours of the earth
Detain my soul from God.
Think of the splendors of that place,
The joys that are on high;
Nor meanly rest contented here,
With worlds beneath the sky.
The joys that are on high;
Nor meanly rest contented here,
With worlds beneath the sky.
Heav'n is the birth-place of the saints,
To heav'n their souls ascend;
Th'Almighty owns his favourite race,
As father and as friend.
To heav'n their souls ascend;
Th'Almighty owns his favourite race,
As father and as friend.
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Oh! may these lovely titles prove
My comfort and defence,
When the sick couch shall be my lot,
And death shall call me hence.
My comfort and defence,
When the sick couch shall be my lot,
And death shall call me hence.
An Ode on the Messiah.
1
When man had disobey'd his Lord,Vindictive Justice drew the sword;
“The rebel and his race shall die.”
He spake, and thunders burst the sky.
2
Lo! Jesus pard'ning grace displays,Nor thunders roll, nor lightnings blaze.
Jesus, the Saviour stands confest,
In rays of mildest glories drest.
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3
As round Him press th'angelic crowd,Mercy and Truth He calls aloud;
The smiling cherubs wing'd to view,
Their pinions sounded as they flew.
4
“Ye favourites of the throne, arise,“Bear the strange tidings thro' the skies;
“Say, Man, th'apostate rebel, lives;
“Say, Jesus bleeds, and Heav'n forgives.”
5
In pity to the fallen race,I'll take their nature and their place;
I'll bleed, their pardon to procure,
I'll die, to make that pardon sure.
6
Now Jesus leaves his blest abode,A Virgin's womb receives the God.
When the tenth moon had wan'd on earth,
A Virgin's womb disclos'd the birth.
92
7
New praise employs th'ethereal throng,Their golden harps repeat the song;
And angels waft th'immortal strains
To humble Bethl'em's happy plains.
8
While there the guardians of the sheepBy night their faithful vigils keep,
Celestial notes their ears delight,
And floods of glory drown their sight.
9
When Gabriel thus, “Exult, ye swains,“Jesus, your own Messiah, reigns.
“Arise, the Royal Babe behold,
“Jesus, by ancient bards foretold.
10
“To David's town direct your way,“And shout, Salvation's born to-day;
“There, in a manger's mean disguise,
“You'll find the Sovereign of the skies.”
93
11
What joy Salvation's sound imparts,You best can tell, ye guileless hearts;
Whom no vain science led astray,
Nor taught to scorn Salvation's way.
12
Tho' regal purple spurns these truths,Maintain your ground, ye chosen youths;
Brave the stern tyrant's lifted rod,
Nor blush to own a dying God.
13
What! tho' the sages of the earthProudly dispute this wondrous birth;
Tho' learning mocks Salvation's voice,
Know, Heav'n applauds your wiser choice.
14
Oh! be this wiser choice my own!Bear me, some seraph, to His throne,
Where the rapt soul dissolves away
In visions of eternal day.
94
An Ode on the New Year.
1
Lord of my life, inspire my song,To Thee my noblest powers belong;
Grant me thy favourite seraph's flame,
To sing the glories of thy name.
2
My birth, my fortune, friends, and health,My knowledge too, superior wealth!
Lord of my life, to Thee I owe;
Teach me to practise what I know.
3
Ten thousand favours claim my song,And each demands an angel's tongue;
Mercy sits smiling on the wings
Of every moment as it springs.
95
4
But oh! with infinite surpriseI see returning years arise;
When unimprov'd the former score,
Lord, wilt thou trust me still with more!
5
Thousands this period hop'd to see;Deny'd to thousands, granted me;
Thousands! that weep, and wish, and pray
For those rich hours I throw away.
6
The tribute of my heart receive,'Tis the poor all I have to give;
Should it prove faithless, Lord, I'd wrest
The bleeding traitor from my breast.
96
EPITAPH On John Duke of Bridgwater,
Who died in the twenty-first Year of his Age, 1747–8.
Intent to hear, and bounteous to bestow,
A mind that melted at another's woe;
Studious to act the self-approving part,
That midnight-music of the honest heart!
Those silent joys th'illustrious youth possess'd,
Those cloudless sunshines of the spotless breast!
From pride of peerage, and from folly free,
Life's early morn, fair Virtue! gave to thee;
Forbad the tear to steal from Sorrow's eye,
Bade anxious Poverty forget to sigh;
Like Titus, knew the value of a day,
And Want went smiling from his gates away.
A mind that melted at another's woe;
Studious to act the self-approving part,
That midnight-music of the honest heart!
Those silent joys th'illustrious youth possess'd,
Those cloudless sunshines of the spotless breast!
From pride of peerage, and from folly free,
Life's early morn, fair Virtue! gave to thee;
Forbad the tear to steal from Sorrow's eye,
Bade anxious Poverty forget to sigh;
Like Titus, knew the value of a day,
And Want went smiling from his gates away.
The rest were honours borrow'd from the throne;
These honours, Egerton, were all thy own!
These honours, Egerton, were all thy own!
97
A Fable.
[It seems, an Owl, in days of yore]
It seems, an Owl, in days of yore,
Had turn'd a thousand volumes o'er.
His fame for literature extends,
And strikes the ears of partial friends.
They weigh'd the learning of the fowl,
And thought him a prodigious Owl!
From such applause what could betide?
It only cocker'd him in pride.
Had turn'd a thousand volumes o'er.
His fame for literature extends,
And strikes the ears of partial friends.
They weigh'd the learning of the fowl,
And thought him a prodigious Owl!
From such applause what could betide?
It only cocker'd him in pride.
Extoll'd for sciences and arts,
His bosom burn'd to shew his parts;
(No wonder that an Owl of spirit,
Mistook his vanity for merit.)
He shews insatiate thirst of praise,
Ambitious of the poet's bays.
Perch'd on Parnassus all night long,
He hoots a sonnet or a song;
And while the village hear his note,
They curse the screaming whore-son's throat.
His bosom burn'd to shew his parts;
(No wonder that an Owl of spirit,
Mistook his vanity for merit.)
He shews insatiate thirst of praise,
Ambitious of the poet's bays.
Perch'd on Parnassus all night long,
He hoots a sonnet or a song;
And while the village hear his note,
They curse the screaming whore-son's throat.
Amidst the darkness of the night,
Our feather'd poet wings his flight,
And, as capricious fate ordains,
A chimney's treach'rous summit gains;
Which much impair'd by wind and weather,
Down fall the bricks and bird together.
Our feather'd poet wings his flight,
98
A chimney's treach'rous summit gains;
Which much impair'd by wind and weather,
Down fall the bricks and bird together.
The Owl expands his azure eyes,
And sees a Non-con's study rise;
The walls were deck'd with hallow'd bands
Of worthies, by th'engraver's hands;
All champions for the good old cause!
Whose conscience interfer'd with laws;
But yet no foes to king or people,
Tho' mortal foes to church and steeple.
Baxter, with apostolic grace,
Display'd his metzotinto face;
While here and there some luckier saint
Attain'd to dignity of paint.
And sees a Non-con's study rise;
The walls were deck'd with hallow'd bands
Of worthies, by th'engraver's hands;
All champions for the good old cause!
Whose conscience interfer'd with laws;
But yet no foes to king or people,
Tho' mortal foes to church and steeple.
Baxter, with apostolic grace,
Display'd his metzotinto face;
While here and there some luckier saint
Attain'd to dignity of paint.
Rang'd in proportion to their size,
The books by due gradations rise.
Here the good Fathers lodg'd their trust;
There zealous Calvin slept in dust.
Here Pool his learned treasures keeps;
There Fox o'er dying martyrs weeps;
While reams on reams insatiate drink
Whole deluges of Henry's ink.
The books by due gradations rise.
Here the good Fathers lodg'd their trust;
There zealous Calvin slept in dust.
Here Pool his learned treasures keeps;
There Fox o'er dying martyrs weeps;
99
Whole deluges of Henry's ink.
Columns of sermons pil'd on high
Attract the bird's admiring eye.
Those works a good old age acquir'd,
Which had in manuscript expir'd;
For manuscripts, of fleeting date,
Seldom survive their infant state.
The healthiest live not half their days,
But die a thousand various ways;
Sometimes ingloriously apply'd
To purposes the Muse shall hide.
Or, should they meet no fate below,
How oft tobacco proves their foe!
Or else some cook purloins a leaf
To singe her fowl, or save her beef;
But sermons 'scape both fate and fire,
By congregational desire.
Attract the bird's admiring eye.
Those works a good old age acquir'd,
Which had in manuscript expir'd;
For manuscripts, of fleeting date,
Seldom survive their infant state.
The healthiest live not half their days,
But die a thousand various ways;
Sometimes ingloriously apply'd
To purposes the Muse shall hide.
Or, should they meet no fate below,
How oft tobacco proves their foe!
Or else some cook purloins a leaf
To singe her fowl, or save her beef;
But sermons 'scape both fate and fire,
By congregational desire.
Display'd at large upon the table
Was Bunyan's much-admir'd fable;
And as his Pilgrim sprawling lay,
It chanc'd the Owl advanc'd that way.
Was Bunyan's much-admir'd fable;
And as his Pilgrim sprawling lay,
It chanc'd the Owl advanc'd that way.
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The bird explores the pious dream,
And plays a visionary scheme;
Determin'd, as he read the sage,
To copy from the tinker's page.
And plays a visionary scheme;
Determin'd, as he read the sage,
To copy from the tinker's page.
The thief now quits his learn'd abode,
And scales aloft the sooty road;
Flies to Parnassus' top once more,
Resolv'd to dream as well as snore;
And what he dreamt by day, the wight
In writing o'er, consumes the night.
And scales aloft the sooty road;
Flies to Parnassus' top once more,
Resolv'd to dream as well as snore;
And what he dreamt by day, the wight
In writing o'er, consumes the night.
Plum'd with conceit he calls aloud,
And thus bespeaks the purblind crowd;
Say not, that man alone's a poet,
Poets are Owls—my verse shall show it.
And while he read his labour'd lays,
His blue-ey'd brothers hooted praise.
But now his female mate by turns
With pity and with choler burns;
When thus her consort she address'd,
And all her various thoughts express'd.
And thus bespeaks the purblind crowd;
Say not, that man alone's a poet,
Poets are Owls—my verse shall show it.
And while he read his labour'd lays,
His blue-ey'd brothers hooted praise.
But now his female mate by turns
With pity and with choler burns;
When thus her consort she address'd,
And all her various thoughts express'd.
Why, prithee, husband, rant no more,
'Tis time to give these follies o'er.
Be wise, and follow my advice—
Go—catch your family some mice.
'Twere better to resume your trade,
And spend your nights in ambuscade.
What! if you fatten by your schemes,
And fare luxuriously in dreams!
While you ideal mice are carving,
I and my family are starving.
Reflect upon our nuptial hours,
Where will you find a brood like our's?
Our offspring might become a queen,
For finer Owlets ne'er were seen!
'Tis time to give these follies o'er.
101
Go—catch your family some mice.
'Twere better to resume your trade,
And spend your nights in ambuscade.
What! if you fatten by your schemes,
And fare luxuriously in dreams!
While you ideal mice are carving,
I and my family are starving.
Reflect upon our nuptial hours,
Where will you find a brood like our's?
Our offspring might become a queen,
For finer Owlets ne'er were seen!
'Ods—blue! the surly hob reply'd,
I'll amply for my heirs provide.
Why, Madge! when Colley Cibber dies,
Thou'lt see thy mate a Laur'ate rise;
For never poets held this place,
Except descendants of our race.
I'll amply for my heirs provide.
Why, Madge! when Colley Cibber dies,
Thou'lt see thy mate a Laur'ate rise;
For never poets held this place,
Except descendants of our race.
But soft—the female sage rejoin'd—
Say you abjur'd the purring kind;
And nobly left inglorious rats
To vulgar owls, or sordid cats.
Say, you the healing art essay'd,
And piddled in the doctor's trade;
At least you'd earn us good provisions,
And better this than scribbling visions.
A due regard to me, or self,
Wou'd always make you dream of pelf;
And when you dreamt your nights away,
You'd realize your dreams by day.
Hence far superior gains wou'd rise,
And I be fat and you be wise.
Say you abjur'd the purring kind;
And nobly left inglorious rats
To vulgar owls, or sordid cats.
102
And piddled in the doctor's trade;
At least you'd earn us good provisions,
And better this than scribbling visions.
A due regard to me, or self,
Wou'd always make you dream of pelf;
And when you dreamt your nights away,
You'd realize your dreams by day.
Hence far superior gains wou'd rise,
And I be fat and you be wise.
But, Madge, tho' I applaud your scheme,
You'd wish my patients still to dream!
Waking they'd laugh at my vocation,
Or disapprove my education;
And they detest your solemn hob,
Or take me for professor L---.
You'd wish my patients still to dream!
Waking they'd laugh at my vocation,
Or disapprove my education;
And they detest your solemn hob,
Or take me for professor L---.
Equipt with powder and with pill,
He takes his licence out to kill.
Practis'd in all a doctor's airs,
To Batson's senate he repairs,
Dress'd in his flowing wig of knowledge,
To greet his brethren of the college;
Takes up the papers of the day,
Perhaps for want of what to say;
Thro' ev'ry column he pursues,
Alike advertisements and news;
O'er lists of cures with rapture runs,
Wrought by Apollo's natural sons;
Admires the rich Hibernian stock
Of doctors, Henry, Ward, and Rock.
He dwells on each illustrious name,
And sighs at once for fees and fame.
Now, like the doctors of to-day,
Retains his puffers too in pay.
Around his reputation flew,
His practice with his credit grew.
At length the court receives the sage,
And lordlings in his cause engage.
He dupes, beside plebeian fowls,
The whole nobility of owls.
Thus ev'ry where he gains renown,
And fills his purse, and thins the town.
He takes his licence out to kill.
Practis'd in all a doctor's airs,
To Batson's senate he repairs,
Dress'd in his flowing wig of knowledge,
To greet his brethren of the college;
103
Perhaps for want of what to say;
Thro' ev'ry column he pursues,
Alike advertisements and news;
O'er lists of cures with rapture runs,
Wrought by Apollo's natural sons;
Admires the rich Hibernian stock
Of doctors, Henry, Ward, and Rock.
He dwells on each illustrious name,
And sighs at once for fees and fame.
Now, like the doctors of to-day,
Retains his puffers too in pay.
Around his reputation flew,
His practice with his credit grew.
At length the court receives the sage,
And lordlings in his cause engage.
He dupes, beside plebeian fowls,
The whole nobility of owls.
Thus ev'ry where he gains renown,
And fills his purse, and thins the town.
104
Addressed to a young Lady, whose favourite Bird was almost killed by a fall from her Finger.
As Tiney, in a wanton mood,
Upon his Lucy's finger stood,
Ambitious to be free;
With breast elate he eager tries,
By flight to reach the distant skies,
And gain his liberty.
Upon his Lucy's finger stood,
Ambitious to be free;
With breast elate he eager tries,
By flight to reach the distant skies,
And gain his liberty.
Ah! luckless bird, what tho' caress'd,
And fondled in the fair one's breast,
Taught e'en by her to sing;
Know that to check thy temper wild,
And make thy manners soft and mild,
Thy mistress cut thy wing.
And fondled in the fair one's breast,
Taught e'en by her to sing;
Know that to check thy temper wild,
And make thy manners soft and mild,
Thy mistress cut thy wing.
The feather'd tribe, who cleave the air,
Their weights by equal plumage bear,
And quick escape our pow'r;
Not so with Tiney, dear delight,
His shorten'd wing repress'd his flight,
And threw him on the floor.
Their weights by equal plumage bear,
And quick escape our pow'r;
Not so with Tiney, dear delight,
His shorten'd wing repress'd his flight,
And threw him on the floor.
105
Stunn'd with the fall, he seem'd to die,
For quickly clos'd his sparkling eye,
Scarce heav'd his pretty breast;
Alarmed for her favourite care,
Lucy assumes a pensive air,
And is at heart distrest.
For quickly clos'd his sparkling eye,
Scarce heav'd his pretty breast;
Alarmed for her favourite care,
Lucy assumes a pensive air,
And is at heart distrest.
The stoic soul, in gravest strain,
May call these feelings light and vain,
Which thus from fondness flow;
Yet, if the bard arightly deems,
'Tis nature's fount which feeds the streams
That purest joys bestow.
May call these feelings light and vain,
Which thus from fondness flow;
Yet, if the bard arightly deems,
'Tis nature's fount which feeds the streams
That purest joys bestow.
So, shou'd it be fair Lucy's fate,
Whene'er she wills a change of state,
To boast a mother's name;
These feelings then, thou charming maid,
In brightest lines shall be display'd,
And praise uncensur'd claim.
Whene'er she wills a change of state,
To boast a mother's name;
These feelings then, thou charming maid,
In brightest lines shall be display'd,
And praise uncensur'd claim.
| Various pieces in verse and prose | |