 | A Collection of Poems |  |
131
To Mr. G---m;
On his Design of furnishing the Town of S---d with the Publick News Papers.
Had I the Fire of ancient Sibils,
And ev'ry Muse 'twixt Pope's and Tibbald's,
Then launch'd into prophetic Phrase,
In gliding Verse and flowing Lays,
I should be qualified to Show,
What wond'rous change this Town shall know,
By your Design, dear Colonel!
What Ignorance it shall expel:
How Wit shall kindle up it's Taper,
In ev'ry Head from ev'ry Paper,
And Politicks be canvas'd o'er,
Where Politicks were ne'er before.
And, Pow'rs immortal! can it be,
That this great Theme should fall to me?
To celebrate in tuneful Rhyme,
Thy Acts, and wake thy Fame, O G---m!
Thy Fame once up, it ne'er shall sink,
While thou hast Wine, or I have Ink.
Tho' Thanks abundance, thou wilt give,
Sure thou more justly may'st receive;
For as my Numbers I pursue,
Methinks I kindle at the View;
Rapt into future Times, I see
The Gain of us (thy Guests) and thee;
But great is ours, compar'd with thine,
The little Profit of thy Wine,
Our Gain is of a nobler kind,
More rational, and more refin'd;
We come to view, and learn to know,
How the World goes, and how 'twill go;
Nor did that mighty Chief, whose Glory,
So brightly blazes in old Story,
So many Realms and Manners see,
In all his famous Tour, as we;
We, who need rarely stir abroad,
Beyond the Hills to view the Road,
Assisted by thy News, can stretch
Our Sight beyond the Glasses reach,
And without trav'ling, can extend,
Our Views to Earth's remotest End.
O'er diff'rent Climes each Reader ranges,
The Poles, the Indies, and the Ganges;
And sees the Courts of all the Nations,
Their Strength, their Genius, and their Fashions;
The Riches, Policy, and Trafick,
Of Europe, Asia, and of Afric.
Great Sphere of Learning, boundless Knowledge,
Beyond the Reach of School or College;
By which we're taught to raise, at once,
Our Thoughts from Coal-Pits, up to Thrones,
And lift our Minds from Talk with Masters,
Or vulgar Keelmen and their Caster's
To high Disputes of Peace and Wars,
'Mongst Powers, and Kings, and Emperors;
Th' Additions, Explanations, Flaws,
Amends of Bills, and Acts, and Laws.
And ev'ry Muse 'twixt Pope's and Tibbald's,
Then launch'd into prophetic Phrase,
In gliding Verse and flowing Lays,
I should be qualified to Show,
What wond'rous change this Town shall know,
By your Design, dear Colonel!
What Ignorance it shall expel:
How Wit shall kindle up it's Taper,
In ev'ry Head from ev'ry Paper,
132
Where Politicks were ne'er before.
And, Pow'rs immortal! can it be,
That this great Theme should fall to me?
To celebrate in tuneful Rhyme,
Thy Acts, and wake thy Fame, O G---m!
Thy Fame once up, it ne'er shall sink,
While thou hast Wine, or I have Ink.
Tho' Thanks abundance, thou wilt give,
Sure thou more justly may'st receive;
For as my Numbers I pursue,
Methinks I kindle at the View;
Rapt into future Times, I see
The Gain of us (thy Guests) and thee;
But great is ours, compar'd with thine,
The little Profit of thy Wine,
Our Gain is of a nobler kind,
More rational, and more refin'd;
We come to view, and learn to know,
How the World goes, and how 'twill go;
Nor did that mighty Chief, whose Glory,
So brightly blazes in old Story,
133
In all his famous Tour, as we;
We, who need rarely stir abroad,
Beyond the Hills to view the Road,
Assisted by thy News, can stretch
Our Sight beyond the Glasses reach,
And without trav'ling, can extend,
Our Views to Earth's remotest End.
O'er diff'rent Climes each Reader ranges,
The Poles, the Indies, and the Ganges;
And sees the Courts of all the Nations,
Their Strength, their Genius, and their Fashions;
The Riches, Policy, and Trafick,
Of Europe, Asia, and of Afric.
Great Sphere of Learning, boundless Knowledge,
Beyond the Reach of School or College;
By which we're taught to raise, at once,
Our Thoughts from Coal-Pits, up to Thrones,
And lift our Minds from Talk with Masters,
Or vulgar Keelmen and their Caster's
To high Disputes of Peace and Wars,
'Mongst Powers, and Kings, and Emperors;
134
Amends of Bills, and Acts, and Laws.
See from what Pens, our News approaches,
And diff'rent Hands give diff'rent Touches;
With various Stile and Elegance,
Each Author propagates his Sense;
One shows his Wit in Admirations,
Or quotes, and then makes Applications,
Or shoots against prime Ministers,
In small Italick Characters;
Another, to it roundly falls,
In certain Words, all Capitals;
Thus Fowlers o'er their Prey prevail,
And kill with Bullets, or with Hail.
But of all Monsters that stare at us,
That Chasm, which Scholars name Hiatus,
Does most our lab'ring Wits confound;
All Penetration, there is drown'd;
So puzled Hobbs, did once enquire
Into the Peak of Derbyshire,
But could not for his Blood and Soul,
Find out the Depth of Elden-Hole.
But this I leave, as more have done,
A Hint to be commented on.
And diff'rent Hands give diff'rent Touches;
With various Stile and Elegance,
Each Author propagates his Sense;
One shows his Wit in Admirations,
Or quotes, and then makes Applications,
Or shoots against prime Ministers,
In small Italick Characters;
Another, to it roundly falls,
In certain Words, all Capitals;
Thus Fowlers o'er their Prey prevail,
And kill with Bullets, or with Hail.
But of all Monsters that stare at us,
That Chasm, which Scholars name Hiatus,
Does most our lab'ring Wits confound;
All Penetration, there is drown'd;
So puzled Hobbs, did once enquire
Into the Peak of Derbyshire,
But could not for his Blood and Soul,
Find out the Depth of Elden-Hole.
135
A Hint to be commented on.
See, where upon the Table laid,
Each Paper by itself is spread;
There Ev'ning Posts or Votes appear,
A Pamphlet or a Gazette here;
The British Journal, Written Letter,
Or old Stone-castle's new Spectator,
Next strike the View, while some are lost,
Which to read first, or praise the most;
But others warm'd with Party-Zeal,
For this, or that, a longing feel.
And ev'ry Reader is divided,
In Judgment, as his Notion's guided;
Thus as ideally we stray,
Each is a Critick in his way,
Or wisely int'rogates, or answers,
About the mystick Sense of D'Anvers;
Some think he writes with force of Reason,
And others judge his Paper, Treason:
One cries his poignancy encreases,
And W--- is cut all to Pieces;
Another laughs, and says 'tis faint,
For W--- is an Adamant.
Each Paper by itself is spread;
There Ev'ning Posts or Votes appear,
A Pamphlet or a Gazette here;
The British Journal, Written Letter,
Or old Stone-castle's new Spectator,
Next strike the View, while some are lost,
Which to read first, or praise the most;
But others warm'd with Party-Zeal,
For this, or that, a longing feel.
And ev'ry Reader is divided,
In Judgment, as his Notion's guided;
Thus as ideally we stray,
Each is a Critick in his way,
Or wisely int'rogates, or answers,
About the mystick Sense of D'Anvers;
Some think he writes with force of Reason,
And others judge his Paper, Treason:
One cries his poignancy encreases,
And W--- is cut all to Pieces;
136
For W--- is an Adamant.
Next Judgment's pass'd on Mist's Successor,
Of all his Wit a just Possessor;
Whose mighty Intellects inherit,
A double Portion of his Spirit:
With mystic Sneer and Hesitation,
Against the Rulers of the Nation,
He vents his comick Spleen, no Treason,
To any Reader void of Reason.
O could I speak his Excellences,
His solid Head, and weighty Senses,
How much they aid him in his sinking,
Into a vast profound of Thinking!
Like that unfathom'd Inclination,
Philosophers call Gravitation,
Which brings down Mists and Fogs below,
And makes their Distillations flow,
Which downwards draws all Parts of Matter,
And adds all Force and Weight to Nature.
And as that Property, in vain,
The Learn'd are puzled to explain,
So what's his Drift, or what's his meaning,
Is much too deep for my obtaining;
And since my Thoughts cannot surround him
I leave him in the Place I found him.
Of all his Wit a just Possessor;
Whose mighty Intellects inherit,
A double Portion of his Spirit:
With mystic Sneer and Hesitation,
Against the Rulers of the Nation,
He vents his comick Spleen, no Treason,
To any Reader void of Reason.
O could I speak his Excellences,
His solid Head, and weighty Senses,
How much they aid him in his sinking,
Into a vast profound of Thinking!
Like that unfathom'd Inclination,
Philosophers call Gravitation,
Which brings down Mists and Fogs below,
And makes their Distillations flow,
Which downwards draws all Parts of Matter,
And adds all Force and Weight to Nature.
And as that Property, in vain,
The Learn'd are puzled to explain,
137
Is much too deep for my obtaining;
And since my Thoughts cannot surround him
I leave him in the Place I found him.
And next, if all my skill could draw,
(My skill should all be shown, to show)
The great Advantage, which in spight
Of all that all ill Writers write,
Shall soon accrue to us, but Striplings,
In Politicks, in Wit, but Witlings;
As we the diff'rent Sense peruse,
Of ev'ry Writer that writes News;
How we shall ripen and refine,
And see the World about us shine;
Each Part display'd, as each Part varies,
As plain as Words in Dictionaries.
Blest with the Prospect of such Science,
We hold all others at defiance;
We envy not the Mathematick
Art unpolite, pedantick Topick!
Nor wish our selves Astronomers,
To ramble up and down the Stars;
Nor with Philosophy to cheat
The human Mind with vain Deceit.
What is't to us if Men or Satyrs,
People the Moon, or other Creatures?
Or if the Sun be fluid Gold,
Or Hell enrag'd, as others hold?
It is enough for us to know
What solid Gold he breeds below;
And how about that Mettal, Princes
Scare one another from their Senses,
While each is try'd, or strong, or feeble,
And Hell's stirr'd up amongst the People.
Sure Men are mad as Alexander,
To Stars for other Worlds to wander,
When they're in one, none can deny it,
A greater than they can keep quiet.
O Pride of Mortals, who shall tame thee,
When all the Earth cannot contain thee?
Wild Beasts, thro' Forests only stray,
Or make the Wilderness their way;
For still will Hills or Vales surround them,
Or Lakes, or Seas, or Oceans, bound them:
Ev'n Birds, the Denizens of Air,
Are stinted by the Atmosphere;
But Man, that most prodigious Creature,
Ungovernable in his Nature,
Breaks o'er all Fences unconfin'd,
And Scales the Heav'ns with lofty Mind,
Each Place in Space infinite changes,
And without ne plus ultra ranges.
(My skill should all be shown, to show)
The great Advantage, which in spight
Of all that all ill Writers write,
Shall soon accrue to us, but Striplings,
In Politicks, in Wit, but Witlings;
As we the diff'rent Sense peruse,
Of ev'ry Writer that writes News;
How we shall ripen and refine,
And see the World about us shine;
Each Part display'd, as each Part varies,
As plain as Words in Dictionaries.
Blest with the Prospect of such Science,
We hold all others at defiance;
We envy not the Mathematick
Art unpolite, pedantick Topick!
Nor wish our selves Astronomers,
To ramble up and down the Stars;
138
The human Mind with vain Deceit.
What is't to us if Men or Satyrs,
People the Moon, or other Creatures?
Or if the Sun be fluid Gold,
Or Hell enrag'd, as others hold?
It is enough for us to know
What solid Gold he breeds below;
And how about that Mettal, Princes
Scare one another from their Senses,
While each is try'd, or strong, or feeble,
And Hell's stirr'd up amongst the People.
Sure Men are mad as Alexander,
To Stars for other Worlds to wander,
When they're in one, none can deny it,
A greater than they can keep quiet.
O Pride of Mortals, who shall tame thee,
When all the Earth cannot contain thee?
Wild Beasts, thro' Forests only stray,
Or make the Wilderness their way;
For still will Hills or Vales surround them,
Or Lakes, or Seas, or Oceans, bound them:
139
Are stinted by the Atmosphere;
But Man, that most prodigious Creature,
Ungovernable in his Nature,
Breaks o'er all Fences unconfin'd,
And Scales the Heav'ns with lofty Mind,
Each Place in Space infinite changes,
And without ne plus ultra ranges.
Yet, tho' our Tempers be so various,
Thy Papers, G---m! so multifarious,
Shall entertain that roving Spirit,
And keep it on the Earth, or near it;
Such diff'rent Themes, and diff'rent Tidings,
From ev'ry Spot of Man's Residings,
Shall fix our Thoughts and charm our Eyes,
While we all grow polite and wise,
More Sage than deep Metaphisicians,
All Councellors, all Politicians.
How can it miss, when ev'ry Land,
Shall give its Knowledge to our Hand?
Each Town, each Court in ev'ry Quarter,
From Peru to the savage Tartar,
With all their Secrets shall accost us,
And pay their Tribute to thy Post-House.
Ev'n great Designs and mighty Things,
Shall from the Closets break, of Kings,
And Schemes laid deep in dark Disguise,
Shall be unravel'd to our Eyes;
Nay scarce a Minister may breathe,
Or Infant Prince shall get his Teeth,
But o'er the Seas, the Winds shall blow it,
And we immediately shall know it.
Thy Papers, G---m! so multifarious,
Shall entertain that roving Spirit,
And keep it on the Earth, or near it;
Such diff'rent Themes, and diff'rent Tidings,
From ev'ry Spot of Man's Residings,
Shall fix our Thoughts and charm our Eyes,
While we all grow polite and wise,
More Sage than deep Metaphisicians,
All Councellors, all Politicians.
How can it miss, when ev'ry Land,
Shall give its Knowledge to our Hand?
Each Town, each Court in ev'ry Quarter,
From Peru to the savage Tartar,
140
And pay their Tribute to thy Post-House.
Ev'n great Designs and mighty Things,
Shall from the Closets break, of Kings,
And Schemes laid deep in dark Disguise,
Shall be unravel'd to our Eyes;
Nay scarce a Minister may breathe,
Or Infant Prince shall get his Teeth,
But o'er the Seas, the Winds shall blow it,
And we immediately shall know it.
If Storms and Tempests beat the Coast
And swell the Main, and Ships be lost:
Or Prodigies awaken Wonder,
Or Ætna from her Entrails Thunder;
What People live to good old Age,
Or who untimely leaves the Stage;
With other deep Intelligences,
Of Duels fought and ravish'd Wenches,
Of Windows broke and Watchmen kickt,
Of Mobs enrag'd, and Pockets pickt;
What ever Time or Fate unfold,
All, quickly to us will be told.
And swell the Main, and Ships be lost:
Or Prodigies awaken Wonder,
Or Ætna from her Entrails Thunder;
What People live to good old Age,
Or who untimely leaves the Stage;
With other deep Intelligences,
Of Duels fought and ravish'd Wenches,
Of Windows broke and Watchmen kickt,
Of Mobs enrag'd, and Pockets pickt;
What ever Time or Fate unfold,
All, quickly to us will be told.
141
What foreign Soils produce in Spice,
To us, shall travel in a Trice;
What Trees weep Balm, what Amber flows,
What Coral reddens, Ruby glows;
What Stones, what Pearls of Price are found,
And what Tobacco flocks the Ground
Of Indian Planters, and what Canes,
Are like to crown the Lab'rer's Pains;
What Oranges in China grow,
Or near Seville incline the Bough;
Thee Seville! growing Child of Fame,
Whom some admire and others blame;
These blast thy Praise, O Town! what Pity,
All love thy Fruit, but not thy Treaty,
Fruit! that which Poets sung of old,
Hesperian, vegitable Gold!
Smit with the Flavour of thy Juice,
But we, than they, know more thy Use,
In Punch, for making Noddles merry
Beyond the Blood of Grape or Berry.
To us, shall travel in a Trice;
What Trees weep Balm, what Amber flows,
What Coral reddens, Ruby glows;
What Stones, what Pearls of Price are found,
And what Tobacco flocks the Ground
Of Indian Planters, and what Canes,
Are like to crown the Lab'rer's Pains;
What Oranges in China grow,
Or near Seville incline the Bough;
Thee Seville! growing Child of Fame,
Whom some admire and others blame;
These blast thy Praise, O Town! what Pity,
All love thy Fruit, but not thy Treaty,
Fruit! that which Poets sung of old,
Hesperian, vegitable Gold!
Smit with the Flavour of thy Juice,
But we, than they, know more thy Use,
In Punch, for making Noddles merry
Beyond the Blood of Grape or Berry.
But I degress, and fear my Song,
Has for a Letter been too long,
So begging Pardon for what's o'er,
I promise to offend no more.
Here ends the Tenour of my Verse,
There is much better and much worse.
Has for a Letter been too long,
142
I promise to offend no more.
Here ends the Tenour of my Verse,
There is much better and much worse.
| A Collection of Poems | |