The Poems of John Byrom | ||
163
DULCES ANTE OMNIA MUSÆ.
I
Of all Companions that a Man can choose,Methinks the sweetest is an honest Muse,
Ready, the subject proper and the Time,
To cheer Occasion with harmonic Rime.
Of all the Muses (for they tell of nine),
Melpomene, sweet flowing Mel., be mine!
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II
Her's the judicious and the friendly PartTo clear the Head, to animate the Heart;
Their kindred Forces, tempering, to unite;
Grave to instruct, and witty to delight;
With Judgment cool, with Passions rightly warm,
She gives the Strength to Numbers and the Charm.
III
Her Lines, whatever the Occasion be,Flow without forcing, natural and free:
No stiff'ning of 'em with poetic Starch,
Whether her Bard is to be grave or arch:
Of diff'rent Topics which the Times produce
She prompts the fittest for the present Use
IV
She decks, when call'd, when honour'd to attendOn sacred Piety, her best lov'd Friend,
Decks with a Grace, and arms with a Defence,
Religion, Virtue, Morals, and good Sense;
Whatever tends to better human Mind
Sets Mel. at Work, a Friend to all Mankind.
V
A Foe, but void of any Rancour, FoeTo all the noisy Bustlings here below;
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That plagues a Constitution, Church, or State,
That plagues a Man's ownself, or makes him will
His other Self, his Neighbour, any Ill.
VI
Life, as Mel. thinks, a short, uncertain Lease,Demands the fruits of Friendship, and of Peace.
“Arms and the Man” her sister Clio sings;
To her she leaves your Heroes and your Kings,
To sound the Present, or to act the Past,
And tread the Stage in Buskin and Bombast.
VII
With Nymphs and Swains fond Mel. would strew the Fields,With Flocks and Herds, instead of Spears and Shields;
Recall the Scenes that blest a golden Age
Ere mutual Love gave way to martial Rage;
And Bards, high soaring above simpler Phrase,
To genuine Light preferr'd the glaring Blaze.
VIII
She scorns alike ignobly to rehearseThe spiteful Satire, or the venal Verse;
Free in her Praise, and in her Censure too,
But Merit, but Amendment, is her view;
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Or save a Culprit from a future Fault.
IX
No sour, pedantical, abusive Rage,No vicious Rant defiles her freest Page;
No vile, indecent Sally, or profane,
To pleasure Fools, or give the Wise a Pain;
Her Mirth is aim'd to mend us, if we heed,
And what the chastest of her Sex may read.
X
She looks on various Empires, various Men,As all one Tribe, when she directs the Pen;
She loves the Briton, and she loves the Gaul,
Swede, Russ, or Turk,—she wishes well to all:
They all are Men, all Sons of the same Sire,
And must be all belov'd, if Mel. inspire.
XI
It would rejoice her Votaries to seeAll Europe, Asia, Africa agree;
“But the New World, New-England's dire Alarms?
“Should not Melpomene now sing to Arms?”—
No, she must ever wish all War to cease;
While Folks are fighting, she must hold her Peace;
XII
Content to hope that, what Events are dueWill bless New-England, and old England too;
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And Friend to Spain, but Foe to Depredation;
And Friend to France, but let heroic Clio
Demolish French Encroachments at Ohio.
XIII
Safe from all foreign, and domestic FoesBe all your Liberties in Verse or Prose!
Be safe Abroad your Colonies, your Trade,
From Guarda-costas, and from Gasconade:
At Home your Lives, your Acres and your Bags;
And Plots against ye vanish all to Rags!
XIV
But much of Safety, let concluding LineObserve, depends upon yourselves;—in fine,
Home, or Abroad, the World is but a School,
Where all Things roll to teach one central Rule:
That is: “If you would prosper and do well,
Love one another, and remember Mel.”
The Poems of John Byrom | ||