Poems on Affairs of State

Clito the Wise, the Generous, and Good,
Better than whom none ever understood
Or Things Or Words, would yet distinctly know
How far the Force of Eloquence could go
To teach Mankind those Truths which they mistake,
And who the noble Task durst undertake.
To him ADEISIDÆMON thus replies:
O thou, whose Age my younger Years supplies
With Virtue's Precepts, and my Country's Love,
What Laws below, or Pow'rs there be above,
Made bold by thy Example, and the Fame
Of antient Heroes (whose immortal Name
Might serve alone all Errors to reform)
I shall the welcome Labour thus perform.

In common Words I vulgar things will tell,
And in Discourse not finely speak, but well.
My Phrase shall clear, short, unaffected be,
And all my Speech shall like my Thoughts be free;
Not grave enough to fright the Young away,
Nor yet for elder Company too gay.

But when the Crowd I'm chosen to persuade
By long Orations for the purpose made;
Or by, what reaches more with more success,
The labour'd Compositions of the Press:
Then shall my fertile Brain new Terms produce,
Or old Expressions bring again in use,
Make all Ideas with their Signs agree,
And sooner things than Words shall wanting be.

180

Harmonious Sounds th'attentive Ear shall please,
While artful Numbers Passions lay or raise;
Commanding Vigor shall my Thoughts convey,
And Softness seal the Truth of all I say:
I'll sooth the raging Mob with mildest Words,
Or sluggish Cowards rouse to use their Swords.
As furious Winds sweep down whate'er resists,
So shall my Tongue perform whate'er it lists,
With large impetuous Floods of Eloquence
Tickle the Fancy and bewitch the Sense;
Make what it will the justest Cause appear,
And what's perplex'd or dark look bright and clear.
Not that I would the wrongful Side defend;
He best protects who's ablest to offend:
As the same Force which serves to curb our Foes,
Can hurt those Friends who on our Love repose,
And for whose sake we would our Lives expose.

Thus arm'd, thus strong, thus fitted to perswade,
I'll Truth protect, and Error strait invade,
Dispel those Clouds that darken human Sight,
And bless the World with Everlasting Light.
A noble Fury does possess my Soul,
Which all may forward, nothing can controul;
The fate of Beings, and the hopes of Men,
Shall be what pleases my creating Pen.

Who form'd the Universe, and when and why,
Or if all things were from Eternity;
What Laws to Nature were prescrib'd by Jove;
Where lies his chiefest Residence above;
Or if he's only but the World's great Soul;
Or Parts the Creatures are, and God the Whole
From whence all Beings their Existence have,
And into which resolv'd they find a Grave;
How nothing's lost, tho all things change their Form,
As that's a Fly which was but now a Worm;
And Death is only to begin to be
Some other thing, which endless change shall see;

181

(Then why should Men to die have so great fear?
Tho nought's Immortal, all Eternal are.)
Whether the Stars be numerous Suns, or no,
And what's their Use above, or Pow'r below;
What Planets are inhabited, what not;
How many new emerg'd, what old forgot;
If the dull Earth does turn about the Sun,
Or that bright Phebus round this Globe does run;
Whence the Magnetic Force; how VVinds can blow;
What makes the Ocean duly ebb and flow;
How come th'alternate Seasons of the Year,
And why the VVeather's warm, cold, dull or clear;
How Animals and Plants increase their Kind;
And what's the Source of Life, of Soul or Mind;
How Stones and Metals, Sands or Shells are fram'd,
Shall only after me be rightly nam'd.
Thus quick as Thought I unconfin'd will fly
Thro boundless Space and vast Eternity;
Nature to me appears in no disguize,
Nor can one Atom scape my prying Eyes.

O Glorious Liberty! for thee I'll prove
The firmest Patron that e'er Tongue did move;
I'll always execute what you decree,
And be the fatal Scourge of Slavery.
Ambitious Tyrants, proud and useless Drones,
I'll first expose, then tumble from their Thrones:
Some their foul Crimes shall expiate by Death,
And some in Exile draw their hated Breath.
Their warlike Troops I shall with ease disband,
And conquer those who all besides command;
I've known a Senate with some magic Words
To Forks and Spades transform their bloody Swords,
Those hect'ring Braves, who vaunt their Force so loud,
A Patriot's Tongue can humble with the Crowd.
Our fearless Youth (if these are at an end)
Will their own Rights by their own Arms defend,
And punish Nations when they dare offend.

182

But, by the Soul of him who Julius kill'd,
When I perceive that Oracle fulfill'd,
Which was to me pronounc'd by Men Divine,
That All goes well when Whigs and Tories join;
I'll sing the Triumphs of the Good Old Cause,
Establish Justice, reinthrone the Laws,
Restore the Nation to its perfect health,
Then Pow'r usurp'd destroy, and form a Common-wealth.

But what in faint Ideas I conceive,
A matchless Hero will by Facts atchieve;
That Freedom he restor'd he will maintain,
Incourage Merit, and leud Vice restrain.
Our Laws, Religion, Arms, our Coin and Trade,
All flourish under him, before decay'd;
In this more safe, more mighty and renown'd,
Than if ten thousand Successors he crown'd:
For oft a just and valiant Prince's Name
Degenerate Sons by horrid Crimes defame.
Her Brutus Rome had not so long ador'd,
If he had made himself her Sov'reign Lord.
O Godlike Brutus! for thy Country's good
Thou didst not shrink to shed thy Childrens Blood!
And sure at home if thou wer't so severe,
Thou'dst never labour for a foreign Heir.
But more than Tongues can speak, or Pens improve,
The World and I expect from William's Love,
His People's Darling, Heav'ns peculiar Care,
The Branch of Peace, and Thunderbolt of War.

Thrice happy they who see thy Youth renew'd,
O potent Britain! thy worst Foes subdu'd,
The proudest Kingdoms for thy Friendship sue,
And all free States their Safety place in you.
Their Products East and West shall send to thee,
Both Indies gladly will thy Handmaids be;
The North unlocks her adamantin Door,
And what the South conceals thou shalt explore.
Thy mighty Fleets our Honours will regain,
And the Flag's Triumph e'ery where maintain.

183

Thy Sons shall reap fresh Laurels near and far,
Umpires of Peace and Leaders still in War.
High Heaven alone shall o'er thy Buildings sway,
And that alone be fairer thought than they.
Submissive Kings shall on thy Senate wait,
While Nations thence expect to hear their Fate.
Let Learning then and Manners be thy care,
The Proud to humble, the Distress'd to spare,
And to free those who slavish Fetters wear.

But what if Tyrants ne'er were heard of more?
What serves it equal Freedom to restore,
So long as other Monsters worse than they,
Rule all Mankind with a despotic Sway?
These are fit Objects of a Hero's rage;
But where's the Herc'les to redeem the Age?

No longer thus the World shall be misled
By him that's falsly call'd th'unerring Head.
His Triple Crown I scornfully will spurn,
And his proud Seat to heaps of Rubbish turn,
Fright all his Vassals into Dens and Caves,
Then smoke to Death the sacrilegious Slaves.
The swarming Herds of crafty Priests and Monks,
The female Orders of Religious Punks,
Cardinals, Patriarchs, Metropolitans,
Franciscans, Jesuits, Dominicans,
And such like barbarous Names Ecclesiastic,
Such superstitious, villanous, fantastic,
Coz'ning Rogues I'll evermore disturb,
Sense shall their Doctrines, Force their Malice curb.
Nor will I here desist; all Holy Cheats
Of all Religions shall partake my Threats,
Whether with sable Gowns they show their Pride,
Or under Clokes their Knavery they hide,
Or whatso'er disguise they choose to wear
To gull the People while their Spoils they share.
As much as we revere those worthy Men,
Whe teach what's peaceful, necessary, plain;

184

So much we should such Hypocrites impeach,
As only Jargon, Strife, and Empire preach.
Religion's safe, with Priestcraft is the War;
All Friends to Priestcraft, Foes of Mankind are.
Their impious Fanes and Altars I'll o'erthrow,
And the whole Farce of their feign'd Saintship show;
Their pious Tricks disclose; their murd'ring Zeal,
And all their awful Mysteries reveal;
Their lying Prophets, and their jugling Thieves
Discredit quite; their foolish Books (as Leaves
From Trees in Autumn fall) I'll scatter wide,
And show those Fables which they fain would hide.

When I've perform'd these Feats, new Danger calls;
From Earth I'll soar, and scale high Heaven's Walls
To pull false Gods from thence, that Men may see
There's but One, True, All-perfect Deity.
Sound Reason is the Law that likes him best,
Of Good and Ill the never-erring Test.
His Sacred Temple's e'ery good Man's Heart,
Where his choice Gifts he freely does impart;
But they deserve and share his first Applause,
Who stake their Lives in their dear Country's Cause.
An honest Mind is the best Pray'r he needs;
Paid with good Works, for him no Victim bleeds.
With Forms and Postures he is never pleas'd.
Nor is his Wrath with Bribes to be appeas'd:
But, happy in himself, he neither wants
Ought we can give; nor greater Blessings grants
Than solid Sense, and an industrious Pain,
Riches with this, Wisdom with that to gain.

From this high Steep with hasty flight I'll bend,
And to the Bosom of the Earth descend;
To those dark Shades I'll introduce the Day,
And the vain Terrors of Hell's Court display.
But wicked Deeds shall not unpunish'd go,
Tho not as Priests and Poets falsly show.

185

Those Old-Wives Tales, imaginary Fears,
The Cause of Horror, and the Source of Tears,
I'll soon destroy; extinguish all their Flames,
Dry up their Rivers, break their ratling Chains,
Poison their Serpents, fright each hideous Form,
Cerberus choke, and Pluto's Castle storm.
Legions of Fiends to Atoms I'll reduce,
And leave bad Men no Tempter for excuse,
But such leud Thoughts as their vain Fancy draws,
Rebels to Reason's just and easy Laws.
The best Repentance is to sin no more,
And to the Owners what they've lost restore.
Hell's always flaming in a Villain's Mind,
Who's self-condemn'd, abhor'd of all Mankind,
And still suspicious of a Fo behind.
Virtue's its own Reward; nor Rage of Foes,
Nor Frowns of Friends can Virtue discompose.
Tho Malice, Fraud, and Envy may combine,
Spite of their Fury Innocence will shine.
An honest man, when thousands treat him ill,
His conscious Virtue will support him still;
Till undeceiv'd, the World repairs his Fame,
Life yields him Honour, Death a glorious Name.

Thus pow'rful Eloquence shall teach the Wise
Vile and absurd Inventions to despise;
And Fools will mend when abler men exhort,
Or by strict Laws are kept from doing hurt.
But as no Rule without exception is,
So Fools in Learning come not under this:
For neither Brains nor Books make them improve,
Nor Laws restrain, so much they Mischief love.
The easiest things they speak in Terms uncouth,
And empty Notions hug for solid Truth.
Sworn Foes to Reason, whose resistless Light
Condemns their Pride and Ignorance to Night:
Slaves to Authority, the Bane of Schools,
Because all Times have Precedents for Fools.

186

If in right ways I cannot such direct,
I'll spoil their Trade, their Vanity detect.
As sick men order'd by their Doctors Bills
To breath that Air which quickly cures or kills;
So shall my Words like Thunderbolts be hurl'd,
And will confound or mend the erring World.

But when from Cares and publick Business free,
Bright Victorina my lov'd Theme shall be;
The softest Words the sweetest Things will tell,
And all I write or speak be fine and well.
When she inspires, I must great things pursue;
If she approv'd, what Wonders cou'd I do?
I shou'd than all to come discover more,
And would eclipse those Lights which shin'd before.
But her dear Image calms my raging Breast,
All should be still to lodg so fair a Guest,
Who hating me, I'm curst; or loving, ever blest.

Thus far I spoke; and Clito all approv'd,
Except what last was said of her I lov'd.
He did not blame my Passion, and allow'd
A virtuous Woman's Heart might well be woo'd;
But that her Hate (like other Ills) the Wise
Shou'd soften first, or missing that, despise:
For Cowards lose by a too quick Despair
What's gain'd by nobler Souls who persevere,
And in Success or Merit Victors are.
We part; and each went where he wish'd to be,
I to my Study, to his Garden He.

University of Virginia Library

CLITO:

A Poem on the Force of Eloquence.