The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted ... Now First Collected. With Historical Notes, And Biographical Memoirs of the Author, by John Nichols |
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To Mr. PHILIPS,
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 | The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted |  |
96
To Mr. PHILIPS,
on his Tragedy of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester.
To rural lays, ere yet in manhood ripe,
A Shepherd, didst thou tune thine oaten pipe;
The groves, and streams, and daisy-painted plains,
The joys and griefs of unambitious swains,
Employ'd thy verse; thy verse, whose magic force
The Severn charm'd, and stopp'd his silver course.
A Shepherd, didst thou tune thine oaten pipe;
The groves, and streams, and daisy-painted plains,
The joys and griefs of unambitious swains,
Employ'd thy verse; thy verse, whose magic force
The Severn charm'd, and stopp'd his silver course.
Thus play'd thy youth: but weightier cares engage
Thy more experienc'd life, and learned age;
Thy country's love thy tragic strains infuse;
And the free Britons bless thy Patriot Muse.
Who has not heard Orestes' dire despair?
Who not repin'd for Gwendolen the fair?
What freeman, but her woes, in thought, redress'd,
And felt his own enflam'd, like Vanoc's breast!
Thy more experienc'd life, and learned age;
Thy country's love thy tragic strains infuse;
And the free Britons bless thy Patriot Muse.
Who has not heard Orestes' dire despair?
Who not repin'd for Gwendolen the fair?
What freeman, but her woes, in thought, redress'd,
And felt his own enflam'd, like Vanoc's breast!
And lo! the Realm's Protector now we view!
Thy Country's glory, still, thy thoughts pursue;
A Briton, still, thy manly scenes adorn,
And warm the soul with virtues English-born:
To foreign lands nor need we vainly roam,
In search of glories to be found at home:
In our own climate does the laurel grow;
A climate fruitful of heroic woe!
Thy Country's glory, still, thy thoughts pursue;
A Briton, still, thy manly scenes adorn,
And warm the soul with virtues English-born:
To foreign lands nor need we vainly roam,
In search of glories to be found at home:
In our own climate does the laurel grow;
A climate fruitful of heroic woe!
At length, kind Fate has rais'd the Poet's Song,
Indulgent to repair brave Gloucester's wrong:
At length his virtue in a blaze appears,
From the dark night retriev'd of monkish years:
And now, through every age his worth shall shine,
And Humphrey's name be, still, rever'd with thine.
Indulgent to repair brave Gloucester's wrong:
At length his virtue in a blaze appears,
From the dark night retriev'd of monkish years:
And now, through every age his worth shall shine,
And Humphrey's name be, still, rever'd with thine.
| The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted | |