Poems, Fables, and Plays By Edward Moore |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| IV. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | Poems, Fables, and Plays |  |
171
A HYMN to POVERTY.
O Poverty! thou source of human art,
Thou great inspirer of the poet's song!
In vain Apollo dictates, and the Nine
Attend in vain, unless thy mighty hand
Direct the tuneful lyre. Without thy aid
The canvas breaths no longer. Music's charms,
Uninfluenc'd by thee, forget to please:
Thou giv'st the organ sound; by thee the flute
Breaths harmony; the tuneful viol owns
Thy pow'rful touch. The warbling voice is thine;
Thou gav'st to Nicolini every grace,
And every charm to Farinelli's song.
By thee the lawyer pleads. The soldier's arm
Is nerv'd by thee. Thy pow'r the gown-man feels,
And, urg'd by thee, unfolds heav'n's mystic truths.
The haughty fair, that swells with proud disdain,
And smiles at mischiefs, which her eyes have made,
Thou humblest to submit and bless mankind.
Thou great inspirer of the poet's song!
In vain Apollo dictates, and the Nine
Attend in vain, unless thy mighty hand
Direct the tuneful lyre. Without thy aid
The canvas breaths no longer. Music's charms,
Uninfluenc'd by thee, forget to please:
Thou giv'st the organ sound; by thee the flute
Breaths harmony; the tuneful viol owns
Thy pow'rful touch. The warbling voice is thine;
Thou gav'st to Nicolini every grace,
And every charm to Farinelli's song.
By thee the lawyer pleads. The soldier's arm
Is nerv'd by thee. Thy pow'r the gown-man feels,
And, urg'd by thee, unfolds heav'n's mystic truths.
172
And smiles at mischiefs, which her eyes have made,
Thou humblest to submit and bless mankind.
Hail, Pow'r omnipotent! Me uninvok'd
Thou deign'st to visit, far, alas! unfit
To bear thy awful presence. O, retire!
At distance let me view thee; left too nigh,
I sink beneath the terrors of thy face!
Thou deign'st to visit, far, alas! unfit
To bear thy awful presence. O, retire!
At distance let me view thee; left too nigh,
I sink beneath the terrors of thy face!
173
THE LOVER and the FRIEND.
O thou, for whom my lyre I string,
Of whom I speak, and think, and sing!
Thou constant object of my joys,
Whose sweetness every wish employs!
Thou dearest of thy sex, attend,
And hear the Lover and the Friend!
Of whom I speak, and think, and sing!
Thou constant object of my joys,
Whose sweetness every wish employs!
Thou dearest of thy sex, attend,
And hear the Lover and the Friend!
Fear not the poet's flatt'ring strain;
No idle praise my verse shall stain;
The lowly numbers shall impart
The faithful dictates of my heart,
Nor humble modesty offend,
And part the Lover from the Friend.
No idle praise my verse shall stain;
The lowly numbers shall impart
The faithful dictates of my heart,
Nor humble modesty offend,
And part the Lover from the Friend.
174
Not distant is the cruel day,
That tears me from my hopes away;
Then frown not, fairest, if I try
To steal the moisture from your eye,
Or force your heart a sigh to send,
To mourn the Lover and the Friend.
That tears me from my hopes away;
Then frown not, fairest, if I try
To steal the moisture from your eye,
Or force your heart a sigh to send,
To mourn the Lover and the Friend.
No perfect joy my life e'er knew,
But what arose from love and you;
Nor can I fear another pain
Than your unkindness, or disdain:
Then let your looks their pity lend,
To chear the Lover and the Friend.
But what arose from love and you;
Nor can I fear another pain
Than your unkindness, or disdain:
Then let your looks their pity lend,
To chear the Lover and the Friend.
Whole years I strove against the flame,
And suffer'd ills, that want a name;
Yet still the painful secret kept,
And to myself in silence wept;
Till grown unable to contend,
I own'd the Lover and the Friend.
And suffer'd ills, that want a name;
Yet still the painful secret kept,
And to myself in silence wept;
Till grown unable to contend,
I own'd the Lover and the Friend.
175
I saw you still. Your gen'rous heart
In all my sorrows bore a part;
Yet while your eyes with pity glow'd,
No words of hope your tongue bestow'd,
But mildly bid me cease to blend
The name of Lover with the Friend.
In all my sorrows bore a part;
Yet while your eyes with pity glow'd,
No words of hope your tongue bestow'd,
But mildly bid me cease to blend
The name of Lover with the Friend.
Sick with desire, and mad with pain,
I seek for happiness in vain:
Thou lovely maid, to thee I cry,
Heal me with kindness, or I die!
From sad despair my soul defend,
And fix the Lover and the Friend.
I seek for happiness in vain:
Thou lovely maid, to thee I cry,
Heal me with kindness, or I die!
From sad despair my soul defend,
And fix the Lover and the Friend.
Curs'd be all wealth, that can destroy
My utmost hope of earthly joy!
Thy gifts, O Fortune! I resign,
Let her and poverty be mine!
And every year that life shall lend,
Shall bless the Lover and the Friend.
My utmost hope of earthly joy!
Thy gifts, O Fortune! I resign,
Let her and poverty be mine!
And every year that life shall lend,
Shall bless the Lover and the Friend.
176
In vain, alas! in vain I strive
To keep a dying hope alive;
The last sad remedy remains,
'Tis absence that must heal my pains,
Thy image from my bosom rend,
And force the Lover from the Friend.
To keep a dying hope alive;
The last sad remedy remains,
'Tis absence that must heal my pains,
Thy image from my bosom rend,
And force the Lover from the Friend.
Vain thought! though seas between us roll,
Thy love is rooted in my soul;
The vital blood that warms my heart
With thy idea must depart,
And death's decisive stroke must end
At once the Lover and the Friend.
Thy love is rooted in my soul;
The vital blood that warms my heart
With thy idea must depart,
And death's decisive stroke must end
At once the Lover and the Friend.
| Poems, Fables, and Plays | |