 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
196
AN EPISTLE TO Thomas Lambard, Esq
Omnia me tua delectant; sed maximè, maxima cùm fides in amicitiâ, consilium, gravitas, constantia; tum lepos, humanitas, literæ.
Cicero, Ep. 27. Lib. 11.
Slow tho' I am to wake the sleeping Lyre,
Yet shou'd the Muse some happy Song inspire;
Fit for a Friend to give, and worthy thee,
That fav'rite Verse to Lambard I decree:
Such may the Muse inspire, and make it prove
A Pledge and Monument of lasting Love!
Yet shou'd the Muse some happy Song inspire;
Fit for a Friend to give, and worthy thee,
That fav'rite Verse to Lambard I decree:
197
A Pledge and Monument of lasting Love!
Meantime intent the fairest Plan to find,
To form the Manners, and improve the Mind;
Me the fam'd Wits of Rome and Athens please,
By Orrery's Indulgence wrapt in Ease;
Whom all the Rival Muses strive to grace,
With Wreaths familiar to his Letter'd Race.
Now, Truth's bright Charms employ my serious Thought,
In flowing Eloquence by Tully taught:
Then, from the Shades of Tusculum I rove,
And studious wander in the Grecian Grove;
While Wonder, and Delight the Soul engage,
To sound the Depths of Plato's sacred Page:
Where Science in attractive Fable lies,
And veil'd, the more invites her Lover's Eyes.
Transported thence, the flow'ry Heights I gain
Of Pindus; and admire the warbling Train,
Whose Wings the Muse in better Ages prun'd,
And their sweet Harps to Moral Airs attun'd.
As Night is tedious while, in Love betray'd,
The wakeful Youth expects the faithless Maid;
As weary'd Hinds accuse the ling'ring Sun,
And Heirs impatient, wish for Twenty One:
So dull to Horace did the Moments glide;
'Till his free Muse her sprightly Force employ'd
To combate Vice; and Follies to expose,
In easy Numbers near ally'd to Prose:
Guilt blush'd, and trembled when she heard him sing,
He smil'd Reproof, and tickled with his Sting.
With such a graceful Negligence exprest,
Wit, thus apply'd, will ever stand the Test:
But he, who blindly led by Whimsy strays,
And from gross Images wou'd merit Praise,
When Nature sets the noblest Stores in view;
Affects to polish Copper in Peru.
So while the Seas on barren Sands are cast,
The Saltness of their Waves offends the Taste;
But when to Heav'n exhal'd, in fruitful Rain,
And fragrant Dews, they fall, to cheer the Swain;
Revive the fainting Flow'rs, and swell the meagre Grain.
To form the Manners, and improve the Mind;
Me the fam'd Wits of Rome and Athens please,
By Orrery's Indulgence wrapt in Ease;
Whom all the Rival Muses strive to grace,
With Wreaths familiar to his Letter'd Race.
Now, Truth's bright Charms employ my serious Thought,
In flowing Eloquence by Tully taught:
Then, from the Shades of Tusculum I rove,
And studious wander in the Grecian Grove;
While Wonder, and Delight the Soul engage,
To sound the Depths of Plato's sacred Page:
Where Science in attractive Fable lies,
And veil'd, the more invites her Lover's Eyes.
Transported thence, the flow'ry Heights I gain
Of Pindus; and admire the warbling Train,
198
And their sweet Harps to Moral Airs attun'd.
As Night is tedious while, in Love betray'd,
The wakeful Youth expects the faithless Maid;
As weary'd Hinds accuse the ling'ring Sun,
And Heirs impatient, wish for Twenty One:
So dull to Horace did the Moments glide;
'Till his free Muse her sprightly Force employ'd
To combate Vice; and Follies to expose,
In easy Numbers near ally'd to Prose:
Guilt blush'd, and trembled when she heard him sing,
He smil'd Reproof, and tickled with his Sting.
With such a graceful Negligence exprest,
Wit, thus apply'd, will ever stand the Test:
But he, who blindly led by Whimsy strays,
And from gross Images wou'd merit Praise,
When Nature sets the noblest Stores in view;
Affects to polish Copper in Peru.
199
The Saltness of their Waves offends the Taste;
But when to Heav'n exhal'd, in fruitful Rain,
And fragrant Dews, they fall, to cheer the Swain;
Revive the fainting Flow'rs, and swell the meagre Grain.
Be this their Care, who studious of Renown,
Toil up th' Aonian Steep to reach the Crown:
Suffice it me, that (having spent my Prime
In picking Epithets, and yoking Rhime)
To steadier Rule my Thoughts I now compose,
And prize Ideas clad in honest Prose.
Old Dryden, emulous of Cæsar's Praise,
Cover'd his Baldness with immortal Bays;
And Death perhaps, to spoil Poetic Sport,
Unkindly cut an Alexandrine short.
His Ear had a more lasting Itch than mine,
For the smooth Cadence of a golden Line!
Shou'd Lust of Verse prevail, and urge the Man
To run the trifling Race the Boy began;
Mellow'd with sixty Winters, you might see
My Circle end in second Infancy.
I might e'er long an awkward Humour have,
To wear my Bells and Coral to the Grave;
Or round my Room alternate take a Course,
Now mount my Hobby, then the Muse's Horse:
Let others wither gay, but I'd appear
With sage Decorum in my easy Chair:
Grave as Libanius, slumb'ring o'er the Laws,
Whilst Gold, and Party Zeal decide the Cause.
Toil up th' Aonian Steep to reach the Crown:
Suffice it me, that (having spent my Prime
In picking Epithets, and yoking Rhime)
To steadier Rule my Thoughts I now compose,
And prize Ideas clad in honest Prose.
Old Dryden, emulous of Cæsar's Praise,
Cover'd his Baldness with immortal Bays;
And Death perhaps, to spoil Poetic Sport,
Unkindly cut an Alexandrine short.
His Ear had a more lasting Itch than mine,
For the smooth Cadence of a golden Line!
Shou'd Lust of Verse prevail, and urge the Man
To run the trifling Race the Boy began;
200
My Circle end in second Infancy.
I might e'er long an awkward Humour have,
To wear my Bells and Coral to the Grave;
Or round my Room alternate take a Course,
Now mount my Hobby, then the Muse's Horse:
Let others wither gay, but I'd appear
With sage Decorum in my easy Chair:
Grave as Libanius, slumb'ring o'er the Laws,
Whilst Gold, and Party Zeal decide the Cause.
A nobler Task our riper Age affords,
Than scanning Syllables, and weighing Words.
To make his Hours in even Measures flow,
Nor think some fleet too fast, and some too slow:
Still Equal in himself, and free to taste
The Now, without repining at the Past;
Nor the vain Prescience of the Spleen t' employ,
To pall the Flavour of a promis'd Joy:
To live tenacious of the golden Mean;
In all Events of various Fate serene;
With Virtue steel'd, and steady to survey
Age, Death, Disease, or Want without Dismay:
These Arts, My Lambard! useful in their End,
Make Man to Others, and Himself, a Friend.
Than scanning Syllables, and weighing Words.
To make his Hours in even Measures flow,
Nor think some fleet too fast, and some too slow:
Still Equal in himself, and free to taste
The Now, without repining at the Past;
Nor the vain Prescience of the Spleen t' employ,
To pall the Flavour of a promis'd Joy:
201
In all Events of various Fate serene;
With Virtue steel'd, and steady to survey
Age, Death, Disease, or Want without Dismay:
These Arts, My Lambard! useful in their End,
Make Man to Others, and Himself, a Friend.
Happiest of Mortals he, who timely wise,
In the calm Walks of Truth his Bloom enjoys:
With Books, and Patrimonial Plenty blest,
Health in his Veins, and Quiet in his Breast!
Him no vain Hopes attract, no Fear appalls,
Nor the gay Servitude of Courts enthralls;
Unknowing how to mask concerted Guile
With a false Cringe, or undermining Smile:
His Manners pure, from Affectation free,
And Prudence shines thro' clear Simplicity.
Tho' no rich Labours of the Persian Loom,
Nor the nice Sculptor's Art adorn his Room;
Sleep unprovok'd will softly seal his Eyes,
And Innocence the want of Down supplies:
Health tempers all his Cups, and at his Board
Reigns the cheap Luxury the Fields afford.
Like the great Trojan, mantled in a Cloud,
Himself unseen he sees the lab'ring Croud;
Where all industrious to their Ruin run,
Swift to persue what most they ought to shun.
Some by the sordid Thirst of Gain controll'd,
Starve in their Stores, and cheat themselves for Gold;
Preserve the precious Bane with anxious Care,
In vagrant Lusts to feed a lavish Heir.
Others devour Ambition's glitt'ring Bait,
To sweat in Purple, and repine in State:
Devote their Pow'rs to ev'ry wild Extream,
For the short Pageant of a pompous Dream.
Nor can the Mind to full Perfection bring
The Fruits, it early promis'd in the Spring;
But in a publick Sphear those Virtues fade,
Which open'd fair, and flourish'd in the Shade.
So while the Night her Ebon Scepter sways,
Her fragrant Blooms the Indian Plant displays;
But the full Day the short-liv'd Beauties shun,
Elude our Hopes, and sicken at the Sun.
In the calm Walks of Truth his Bloom enjoys:
With Books, and Patrimonial Plenty blest,
Health in his Veins, and Quiet in his Breast!
Him no vain Hopes attract, no Fear appalls,
Nor the gay Servitude of Courts enthralls;
Unknowing how to mask concerted Guile
With a false Cringe, or undermining Smile:
His Manners pure, from Affectation free,
And Prudence shines thro' clear Simplicity.
Tho' no rich Labours of the Persian Loom,
Nor the nice Sculptor's Art adorn his Room;
202
And Innocence the want of Down supplies:
Health tempers all his Cups, and at his Board
Reigns the cheap Luxury the Fields afford.
Like the great Trojan, mantled in a Cloud,
Himself unseen he sees the lab'ring Croud;
Where all industrious to their Ruin run,
Swift to persue what most they ought to shun.
Some by the sordid Thirst of Gain controll'd,
Starve in their Stores, and cheat themselves for Gold;
Preserve the precious Bane with anxious Care,
In vagrant Lusts to feed a lavish Heir.
Others devour Ambition's glitt'ring Bait,
To sweat in Purple, and repine in State:
Devote their Pow'rs to ev'ry wild Extream,
For the short Pageant of a pompous Dream.
Nor can the Mind to full Perfection bring
The Fruits, it early promis'd in the Spring;
But in a publick Sphear those Virtues fade,
Which open'd fair, and flourish'd in the Shade.
203
Her fragrant Blooms the Indian Plant displays;
But the full Day the short-liv'd Beauties shun,
Elude our Hopes, and sicken at the Sun.
Fantastic Joys in distant Views appear,
And tempt the Man to make the rash Carier.
Fame, Pow'r, and Wealth, which glitter at the Goal
Allure his Eye, and fire his eager Soul:
For these, are Ease and Innocence resign'd;
For these he strips; Farewel the tranquil Mind!
Headstrong he urges on, 'till Vigour fails,
And gray Experience (but too late!) prevails.
But, in his Ev'ning, view the hoary Fool
When the Nerves slacken, and the Spirits cool;
When Joy, and blushy Youth forsake his Face;
Sickly'd with Age, and sow'r with Self-disgrace.
No Flavour then the sparkling Cups retain,
Musick is harsh, the Syren sings in vain;
To him what healing Balm can Art apply,
Who lives diseas'd with Life, and dreads to die?
In that last Scene, by Fate in Sables drest,
Thy Pow'r, triumphant Virtue! is confest:
Thy Vestal Flames diffuse celestial Light,
Thro' Death's dark Vale, and vanquish total Night:
Lenient of Anguish, o'er the Breast prevail,
When the gay Toys of flatt'ring Fortune fail.
Such, happy Twysden! (ever be thy Name
Mourn'd by the Muse, and fair in deathless Fame!)
While the bright Effluence of her Glory shone,
Were thy last Hours, and such I wish my own:
So Casia bruis'd, exhales her rich Perfumes:
And Incense in a fragrant Cloud consumes.
And tempt the Man to make the rash Carier.
Fame, Pow'r, and Wealth, which glitter at the Goal
Allure his Eye, and fire his eager Soul:
For these, are Ease and Innocence resign'd;
For these he strips; Farewel the tranquil Mind!
Headstrong he urges on, 'till Vigour fails,
And gray Experience (but too late!) prevails.
But, in his Ev'ning, view the hoary Fool
When the Nerves slacken, and the Spirits cool;
When Joy, and blushy Youth forsake his Face;
Sickly'd with Age, and sow'r with Self-disgrace.
204
Musick is harsh, the Syren sings in vain;
To him what healing Balm can Art apply,
Who lives diseas'd with Life, and dreads to die?
In that last Scene, by Fate in Sables drest,
Thy Pow'r, triumphant Virtue! is confest:
Thy Vestal Flames diffuse celestial Light,
Thro' Death's dark Vale, and vanquish total Night:
Lenient of Anguish, o'er the Breast prevail,
When the gay Toys of flatt'ring Fortune fail.
Such, happy Twysden! (ever be thy Name
Mourn'd by the Muse, and fair in deathless Fame!)
While the bright Effluence of her Glory shone,
Were thy last Hours, and such I wish my own:
So Casia bruis'd, exhales her rich Perfumes:
And Incense in a fragrant Cloud consumes.
Most spoil the Boon that Nature's pleas'd t'impart,
By too much Varnish, or by want of Art:
By solid Science all her Gifts are grac'd;
Like Gems new polish'd, and with Gold enchas'd.
Votes to th' unletter'd 'Squire the Laws allow;
As Rome receiv'd Dictators from the Plow:
But Arts, Address, and Force of Genius join,
To make a Hanmer in the Senate shine.
Yet, one presiding Pow'r in ev'ry Breast,
Receives a stronger Sanction than the rest:
And they who study, and discern it well,
Act unrestrain'd, without Design excell;
But court Contempt, and Err without Redress,
Missing the Master-Talent they possess.
W**n perhaps in Euclid may succeed;
But shall I trust him to Reform my Creed?
In sweet Assemblage, ev'ry blooming Grace
Fix Love's bright Throne in Teraminta's Face;
With which her faultless Shape and Air agree;
But, wanting Wit, she strives to Repartee:
And ever prone her matchless Form to wrong,
Lest Envy shou'd be dumb, she lends her Tongue.
By long Experience D**y may, no doubt,
Ensnare a Gudgeon, or sometimes a Trout;
Yet Dryden once exclaim'd (in partial Spite!)
He Fish!—Because the Man attempts to write.
Oh, if the Water-Nymphs were kind to none,
But those the Muses bath in Helicon;
In what far distant Age wou'd Belgia raise
One happy Wit, to Net the British Seas!
By too much Varnish, or by want of Art:
205
Like Gems new polish'd, and with Gold enchas'd.
Votes to th' unletter'd 'Squire the Laws allow;
As Rome receiv'd Dictators from the Plow:
But Arts, Address, and Force of Genius join,
To make a Hanmer in the Senate shine.
Yet, one presiding Pow'r in ev'ry Breast,
Receives a stronger Sanction than the rest:
And they who study, and discern it well,
Act unrestrain'd, without Design excell;
But court Contempt, and Err without Redress,
Missing the Master-Talent they possess.
W**n perhaps in Euclid may succeed;
But shall I trust him to Reform my Creed?
In sweet Assemblage, ev'ry blooming Grace
Fix Love's bright Throne in Teraminta's Face;
With which her faultless Shape and Air agree;
But, wanting Wit, she strives to Repartee:
And ever prone her matchless Form to wrong,
Lest Envy shou'd be dumb, she lends her Tongue.
206
Ensnare a Gudgeon, or sometimes a Trout;
Yet Dryden once exclaim'd (in partial Spite!)
He Fish!—Because the Man attempts to write.
Oh, if the Water-Nymphs were kind to none,
But those the Muses bath in Helicon;
In what far distant Age wou'd Belgia raise
One happy Wit, to Net the British Seas!
Nature permits her various Gifts to fall
On various Climes, nor smiles alike on all:
The Latian Vales eternal Verdure wear,
And Flow'rs spontaneous crown the smiling Year;
But who manures a wild Norwegian Hill,
To raise the Jes'min, or the coy Junquil?
Who finds the Peach among the savage Sloes?
Or in bleak Scythia seeks the blushing Rose?
Here golden Grain waves o'er the teeming Fields;
And there the Vine her racy Purple yields.
High on the Cliffs the British Oak ascends,
Proud to survey the Seas her Pow'r defends;
Her Sov'reign Title to the Flag she proves,
Scornful of softer India's spicy Groves.
On various Climes, nor smiles alike on all:
The Latian Vales eternal Verdure wear,
And Flow'rs spontaneous crown the smiling Year;
But who manures a wild Norwegian Hill,
To raise the Jes'min, or the coy Junquil?
Who finds the Peach among the savage Sloes?
Or in bleak Scythia seeks the blushing Rose?
Here golden Grain waves o'er the teeming Fields;
And there the Vine her racy Purple yields.
207
Proud to survey the Seas her Pow'r defends;
Her Sov'reign Title to the Flag she proves,
Scornful of softer India's spicy Groves.
These Instances, which true in Fact we find,
Apply we to the Culture of the Mind.
This Soil, in early Youth improv'd with Care,
The Seeds of gentle Science best will bear:
That, with more Particles of Flame inspir'd,
With glitt'ring Arms, and Thirst of Fame is fir'd:
Nothing of Greatness in a third will grow,
But, barren as it is, 'twill bear a Beau.
If these from Nature's genial Bent depart,
In Life's dull Farce to play a borrow'd Part;
Shou'd the Sage Dress, and flutter in the Mall,
Or leave his Problems for a Birth-Night Ball:
Shou'd the rough Homicide unsheath his Pen,
And in Heroics only, murther Men;
Shou'd the soft Fop forsake the Ladies Charms,
To face the Foe with inoffensive Arms;
Each wou'd Variety of Acts afford,
Fit for some new Cervantes to record.
Apply we to the Culture of the Mind.
This Soil, in early Youth improv'd with Care,
The Seeds of gentle Science best will bear:
That, with more Particles of Flame inspir'd,
With glitt'ring Arms, and Thirst of Fame is fir'd:
Nothing of Greatness in a third will grow,
But, barren as it is, 'twill bear a Beau.
If these from Nature's genial Bent depart,
In Life's dull Farce to play a borrow'd Part;
Shou'd the Sage Dress, and flutter in the Mall,
Or leave his Problems for a Birth-Night Ball:
Shou'd the rough Homicide unsheath his Pen,
And in Heroics only, murther Men;
208
To face the Foe with inoffensive Arms;
Each wou'd Variety of Acts afford,
Fit for some new Cervantes to record.
Whither, you cry, tends all this dry Discourse?
To prove, like Hudibras, a Man's no Horse!
I look'd for sparkling Lines, and something gay
To frisk my Fancy with; but, sooth to say!
From her Apollo now the Muse elopes,
And trades in Syllogisms, more than Tropes.
To prove, like Hudibras, a Man's no Horse!
I look'd for sparkling Lines, and something gay
To frisk my Fancy with; but, sooth to say!
From her Apollo now the Muse elopes,
And trades in Syllogisms, more than Tropes.
Faith, Sir, I see you Nod, but can't forbear;
When a Friend reads, in Honour you must hear:
For all Enthusiasts, when the Fit is strong,
Indulge a Volubility of Tongue:
Their Fury triumphs o'er the Men of Phleam,
And Council-proof, will never balk a Theme.
So Burgess on his Tripod rav'd the more,
When round him half the Saints began to snore.
When a Friend reads, in Honour you must hear:
For all Enthusiasts, when the Fit is strong,
Indulge a Volubility of Tongue:
Their Fury triumphs o'er the Men of Phleam,
And Council-proof, will never balk a Theme.
So Burgess on his Tripod rav'd the more,
When round him half the Saints began to snore.
209
To lead us safe thro' Error's thorny Maze,
Reason exerts her pure Etherial Rays:
But that bright Daughter of eternal Day,
Holds in our mortal Frame a dubious Sway.
Tho' no Lethargic Fumes the Brain invest,
And opiate all her active Pow'rs to rest;
Tho' on that Magazine no Fevers seize,
To calcine all her beauteous Images:
Yet banish'd from the Realms by Right her own,
Passion, a blind Usurper, mounts the Throne.
Or to known Good preferring specious Ill,
Reason becomes a Cully to the Will:
Thus Man perversely fond to roam astray,
Hoodwinks the Guide assign'd to shew the way;
And in Life's Voyage like the Pilot fares,
Who breaks the Compass, and contemn's the Stars,
To steer by Meteors; which at random fly,
Preluding to a Tempest in the Sky.
Vain of his Skill, and led by various Views,
Each to his End a diff'rent Path persues;
And seldom is one Wretch so humble known,
To think his Friend's a better than his own:
The boldest they, who least partake the Light;
As Game-Cocks in the dark are train'd to fight.
Nor Shame, nor Ruin can our Pride abate,
But what became our Choice, we call our Fate.
Villain, said Zeno to his pilfering Slave,
What frugal Nature needs I freely gave;
With thee my Treasure I depos'd in Trust,
What cou'd provoke thee now to prove unjust?
Sir, blame the Stars, felonious Culprit cry'd.
We'll! by the Statute of the Stars be Try'd.
If their strong Influence all our Actions urge,
Some are foredoom'd to steal—and some to scourge:
The Beadle must obey the Fates Decree,
As pow'rful Destiny prevail'd with thee.
Reason exerts her pure Etherial Rays:
But that bright Daughter of eternal Day,
Holds in our mortal Frame a dubious Sway.
Tho' no Lethargic Fumes the Brain invest,
And opiate all her active Pow'rs to rest;
Tho' on that Magazine no Fevers seize,
To calcine all her beauteous Images:
Yet banish'd from the Realms by Right her own,
Passion, a blind Usurper, mounts the Throne.
Or to known Good preferring specious Ill,
Reason becomes a Cully to the Will:
Thus Man perversely fond to roam astray,
Hoodwinks the Guide assign'd to shew the way;
And in Life's Voyage like the Pilot fares,
Who breaks the Compass, and contemn's the Stars,
To steer by Meteors; which at random fly,
Preluding to a Tempest in the Sky.
210
Each to his End a diff'rent Path persues;
And seldom is one Wretch so humble known,
To think his Friend's a better than his own:
The boldest they, who least partake the Light;
As Game-Cocks in the dark are train'd to fight.
Nor Shame, nor Ruin can our Pride abate,
But what became our Choice, we call our Fate.
Villain, said Zeno to his pilfering Slave,
What frugal Nature needs I freely gave;
With thee my Treasure I depos'd in Trust,
What cou'd provoke thee now to prove unjust?
Sir, blame the Stars, felonious Culprit cry'd.
We'll! by the Statute of the Stars be Try'd.
If their strong Influence all our Actions urge,
Some are foredoom'd to steal—and some to scourge:
The Beadle must obey the Fates Decree,
As pow'rful Destiny prevail'd with thee.
This Heathen Logic seems to bear too hard
On me, and many a harmless modern Bard;
The Critics hence may think themselves decreed
To jerk the Wits, and rail at all they read:
Foes to the Tribe from which they trace their Clan,
As Monkies draw their Pedigree from Man;
To which (tho' by the Breed our Kind's disgrac'd)
We grant superior Elegance of Taste.
But in their own Defence the Wits observe,
That, by Impulse from Heav'n, they write, and starve:
Their Patron-Planet, with resistless Pow'r,
Irradiates ev'ry Poet's Natal Hour;
Engend'ring in his Head a Solar Heat,
For which the College has no sure Receipt:
Else from their Garrets wou'd they soon withdraw,
And leave the Rats to revel in the Straw.
On me, and many a harmless modern Bard;
211
To jerk the Wits, and rail at all they read:
Foes to the Tribe from which they trace their Clan,
As Monkies draw their Pedigree from Man;
To which (tho' by the Breed our Kind's disgrac'd)
We grant superior Elegance of Taste.
But in their own Defence the Wits observe,
That, by Impulse from Heav'n, they write, and starve:
Their Patron-Planet, with resistless Pow'r,
Irradiates ev'ry Poet's Natal Hour;
Engend'ring in his Head a Solar Heat,
For which the College has no sure Receipt:
Else from their Garrets wou'd they soon withdraw,
And leave the Rats to revel in the Straw.
Nothing so much intoxicates the Brain,
As Flatt'ry's smooth insinuating Bane.
She on th' unguarded Ear employs her Art,
While vain Self-love unlocks the yielding Heart;
And Reason oft' submits when both invade,
Without assaulted, and within betray'd.
When Flatt'ry's Magic Mists suffuse the Sight,
The Don is active, and the Boor polite:
Her Mirror shews Perfection thro the whole,
And ne'er reflects a Wrinkle or a Mole;
Each Character in gay Confusion lies,
And all alike are virtuous, brave, and wise:
Nor fail her fulsome Arts to sooth our Pride,
Tho' Praise to Venom turns if wrong apply'd.
Me thus she whispers while I write to you:
Draw forth a banner'd Host in fair Review;
Then ev'ry Muse invoke thy Voice to raise,
Arms and the Man to sing in lofty Lays;
Whose active Bloom Heroic Deeds employ,
Such as the Son of Thetis sung at Troy;
When his high-sounding Lyre his Valour rais'd,
To emulate the Demi-Gods he prais'd.
Like him the Briton, warm at Honour's Call,
At fam'd Blaragnia quell'd the bleeding Gaul;
By France the Genius of the Fight confest,
For which our Patron-Saint adorns his Breast.—
Is this my Friend, who sits in full Content,
Jovial, and joking with his Men of Kent;
And never any Scene of Slaughter saw;
But those who fell by Physick, or the Law?
Why is he for Exploits in War renown'd,
Deck'd with a Star, with bloody Laurels crown'd?
O often prov'd, and ever found sincere!
Too honest is thy Heart, thy Sense too clear,
On these Encomiums to vouchsafe a Smile,
Which only can belong to Great Argyle.
As Flatt'ry's smooth insinuating Bane.
She on th' unguarded Ear employs her Art,
While vain Self-love unlocks the yielding Heart;
212
Without assaulted, and within betray'd.
When Flatt'ry's Magic Mists suffuse the Sight,
The Don is active, and the Boor polite:
Her Mirror shews Perfection thro the whole,
And ne'er reflects a Wrinkle or a Mole;
Each Character in gay Confusion lies,
And all alike are virtuous, brave, and wise:
Nor fail her fulsome Arts to sooth our Pride,
Tho' Praise to Venom turns if wrong apply'd.
Me thus she whispers while I write to you:
Draw forth a banner'd Host in fair Review;
Then ev'ry Muse invoke thy Voice to raise,
Arms and the Man to sing in lofty Lays;
Whose active Bloom Heroic Deeds employ,
Such as the Son of Thetis sung at Troy;
When his high-sounding Lyre his Valour rais'd,
To emulate the Demi-Gods he prais'd.
213
At fam'd Blaragnia quell'd the bleeding Gaul;
By France the Genius of the Fight confest,
For which our Patron-Saint adorns his Breast.—
Is this my Friend, who sits in full Content,
Jovial, and joking with his Men of Kent;
And never any Scene of Slaughter saw;
But those who fell by Physick, or the Law?
Why is he for Exploits in War renown'd,
Deck'd with a Star, with bloody Laurels crown'd?
O often prov'd, and ever found sincere!
Too honest is thy Heart, thy Sense too clear,
On these Encomiums to vouchsafe a Smile,
Which only can belong to Great Argyle.
But most among the Brethren of the Bays,
The dear Enchantress all her Charms displays,
In the sly Commerce of alternate Praise.
If, for his Father's Sins condemn'd to write,
Some young half-feather'd Poet takes a Flight;
And to my Touchstone brings a puny Ode,
Which Swift, and Pope, and Prior, wou'd explode;
Tho' ev'ry Stanza glitters thick with Stars,
And Goddesses descend in Ivory Cars:
Is it for me, to prove in ev'ry Part
The Piece irregular, by Laws of Art?
His Genius looks but aukward, yet his Fate
May raise him to be Premier Barde of State;
I therefore bribe his Suffrage to my Fame,
Revere his Judgment, and applaud his Flame:
Then cry, in seeming Transport while I speak,
'Tis well for Pindar that he dealt in Greek!
He, conscious of Desert, accepts the Praise,
And courteous, with Increase the Debt repays:
Boileau's a Mushroom if compar'd to me;
And, Horace, I dispute the Palm with thee!
Both ravish'd, sing Te Phœbum for Success;
Rise swift, ye Laurels! Boy! bespeak the Press.—
Thus on imaginary Praise we feed;
Each writes 'till all refuse to print, or read:
From the Records of Fame condemn'd to pass
To Brisquet's Calendar, a Rubrick Ass.
The dear Enchantress all her Charms displays,
In the sly Commerce of alternate Praise.
If, for his Father's Sins condemn'd to write,
Some young half-feather'd Poet takes a Flight;
214
Which Swift, and Pope, and Prior, wou'd explode;
Tho' ev'ry Stanza glitters thick with Stars,
And Goddesses descend in Ivory Cars:
Is it for me, to prove in ev'ry Part
The Piece irregular, by Laws of Art?
His Genius looks but aukward, yet his Fate
May raise him to be Premier Barde of State;
I therefore bribe his Suffrage to my Fame,
Revere his Judgment, and applaud his Flame:
Then cry, in seeming Transport while I speak,
'Tis well for Pindar that he dealt in Greek!
He, conscious of Desert, accepts the Praise,
And courteous, with Increase the Debt repays:
Boileau's a Mushroom if compar'd to me;
And, Horace, I dispute the Palm with thee!
Both ravish'd, sing Te Phœbum for Success;
Rise swift, ye Laurels! Boy! bespeak the Press.—
Thus on imaginary Praise we feed;
Each writes 'till all refuse to print, or read:
215
To Brisquet's Calendar, a Rubrick Ass.
Few, wond'rous Few! are Eagle-ey'd to find
A plain Disease, or Blemish in the Mind:
Few can, tho' Wisdom shou'd their Health insure,
Dispassionate and cool attend a Cure.
In Youth difus'd t' obey the needful Rein,
Well pleas'd a savage Liberty to gain,
We sate the keen Desire of ev'ry Sense;
And lull our Age in thoughtless Indolence.
Yet all are Solons in their own Conceit,
Tho', to supply the Vacancy of Wit,
Folly, and Pride impatient of Controul,
The Sister-Twins of Sloath, possess the Soul.
By Kneller were the gay Pumilio drawn,
Like great Alcides, with a Back of Brawn:
I scarcely think his Picture wou'd have Pow'r,
To make him fight the Champions of the Tow'r:
Tho' Lions there are tolerably tame,
And civil as the Court from which they came.
But yet, without Experience, Sense, or Arts,
Pumilio boasts Sufficiency of Parts;
Imagines he alone is amply fit
To guide the State, or give the Stamp to Wit:
Pride paints the Mind with an Heroic Air,
Nor finds he a Defect of Vigour there.
A plain Disease, or Blemish in the Mind:
Few can, tho' Wisdom shou'd their Health insure,
Dispassionate and cool attend a Cure.
In Youth difus'd t' obey the needful Rein,
Well pleas'd a savage Liberty to gain,
We sate the keen Desire of ev'ry Sense;
And lull our Age in thoughtless Indolence.
Yet all are Solons in their own Conceit,
Tho', to supply the Vacancy of Wit,
Folly, and Pride impatient of Controul,
The Sister-Twins of Sloath, possess the Soul.
By Kneller were the gay Pumilio drawn,
Like great Alcides, with a Back of Brawn:
I scarcely think his Picture wou'd have Pow'r,
To make him fight the Champions of the Tow'r:
216
And civil as the Court from which they came.
But yet, without Experience, Sense, or Arts,
Pumilio boasts Sufficiency of Parts;
Imagines he alone is amply fit
To guide the State, or give the Stamp to Wit:
Pride paints the Mind with an Heroic Air,
Nor finds he a Defect of Vigour there.
When Philomel of old essay'd to sing,
And in his rosy Progress hail'd the Spring;
Th' aerial Songsters list'ning to the Lays,
By silent Extasy confest her Praise.
At length, to rival her enchanting Note,
The Peacock strains the Discord of his Throat;
In hope his hideous Shrieks wou'd grateful prove;
But the nice Audience hoot him thro' the Grove.
Conscious of wanted Worth, and just Disdain,
Low'ring his Crest, he creeps to Juno's Fane:
To his Protectress there reveals the Case;
And for a sweeter Voice devoutly prays.
And in his rosy Progress hail'd the Spring;
Th' aerial Songsters list'ning to the Lays,
By silent Extasy confest her Praise.
At length, to rival her enchanting Note,
The Peacock strains the Discord of his Throat;
In hope his hideous Shrieks wou'd grateful prove;
But the nice Audience hoot him thro' the Grove.
Conscious of wanted Worth, and just Disdain,
Low'ring his Crest, he creeps to Juno's Fane:
To his Protectress there reveals the Case;
And for a sweeter Voice devoutly prays.
217
Then thus reply'd the radiant Goddess; known
By her fair rowling Eyes, and ratt'ling Tone.
By her fair rowling Eyes, and ratt'ling Tone.
My fav'rite Bird! of all the feather'd Kind,
Each Species had peculiar Gifts assign'd.
The tow'ring Eagles, to the Realms of Light
By their strong Pounces claim a Regal Right:
The Swan, contented with an humbler Fate,
Low on the fishy River rows in State:
Gay starry Plumes thy Length of Train bedeck,
And the green Em'rald twinkles on thy Neck;
But the poor Nightingale, in mean Attire,
Is made chief Warbler of the woodland Choir.
These various Bounties were dispos'd above,
And ratify'd th' unchanging Will of Jove:
Discern thy Talent, and his Laws adore;
Be what thou wert design'd, nor aim at more.
Each Species had peculiar Gifts assign'd.
The tow'ring Eagles, to the Realms of Light
By their strong Pounces claim a Regal Right:
The Swan, contented with an humbler Fate,
Low on the fishy River rows in State:
Gay starry Plumes thy Length of Train bedeck,
And the green Em'rald twinkles on thy Neck;
But the poor Nightingale, in mean Attire,
Is made chief Warbler of the woodland Choir.
These various Bounties were dispos'd above,
And ratify'd th' unchanging Will of Jove:
Discern thy Talent, and his Laws adore;
Be what thou wert design'd, nor aim at more.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |