 | Poems (1791) |  |
221
ODE TO LORD BARNARD,
on his Accession to that Title.
Sis licet felix ubicunque mavis,
Et memor nostri.
Hor.
Et memor nostri.
Hor.
Melpomene, who charm'st the skies,
Queen of the lyre and lute,
Say, shall my noble patron rise,
And thou, sweet Muse, be mute?
Shall Fame, to celebrate his praise,
Her loudests, loftiest accents raise,
And all her silver trumps employ,
And thou restrain thy tuneful hand,
And thou an idle list'ner stand
Amidst the general joy?
Queen of the lyre and lute,
Say, shall my noble patron rise,
And thou, sweet Muse, be mute?
222
Her loudests, loftiest accents raise,
And all her silver trumps employ,
And thou restrain thy tuneful hand,
And thou an idle list'ner stand
Amidst the general joy?
Fobid it, all ye powers above,
That human hearts can try,
Forbid it gratitude and love,
And every tender tye:
Was it not he, whose pious cares
Upheld me in my earliest years,
And chear'd me from his ample store,
Who animated my designs,
In Roman and Athenian mines,
To search for learning's ore?
That human hearts can try,
Forbid it gratitude and love,
And every tender tye:
Was it not he, whose pious cares
Upheld me in my earliest years,
And chear'd me from his ample store,
Who animated my designs,
In Roman and Athenian mines,
To search for learning's ore?
The royal hand my Lord shall raise
To nobler heights thy name,
Who praises thee, shall meet with praise
Ennobled in thy fame.
A disposition form'd to please,
With dignity endear'd by ease,
And grandeur in good nature lost,
Have more of genuine desert,
Have more the merit of the heart,
Than arts and arms can boast.
To nobler heights thy name,
Who praises thee, shall meet with praise
Ennobled in thy fame.
A disposition form'd to please,
With dignity endear'd by ease,
And grandeur in good nature lost,
Have more of genuine desert,
Have more the merit of the heart,
Than arts and arms can boast.
223
Can I forget fair Raby's
towers,
How awful and how great!
Can I forget such blissful bowers,
Such splendour in retreat!
Where me, ev'n me, an infant bard,
Cleveland and Hope indulgent heard.
(Then fame I felt thy first alarms)
Ah, much lov'd pair!—tho' one is fled,
Still one compensates for the dead,
In merit and in charms.
How awful and how great!
Can I forget such blissful bowers,
Such splendour in retreat!
Where me, ev'n me, an infant bard,
Cleveland and Hope indulgent heard.
(Then fame I felt thy first alarms)
Ah, much lov'd pair!—tho' one is fled,
Still one compensates for the dead,
In merit and in charms.
O more than compensation, sure!
O blessings on thy life!
Long may the three-fold bliss endure,
In daughters, sons, and wife!
Hope, copyist of her mother's mind,
Is loveliest, liveliest of her kind,
Her soul with every virtue teems,
By none in wit or worth outdone,
With eyes, that shining on the sun,
Defy his brightest beams.
O blessings on thy life!
Long may the three-fold bliss endure,
In daughters, sons, and wife!
Hope, copyist of her mother's mind,
Is loveliest, liveliest of her kind,
Her soul with every virtue teems,
By none in wit or worth outdone,
With eyes, that shining on the sun,
Defy his brightest beams.
Hark! Charity's cherubic voice
Calls to her numerous poor,
And bids their languid hearts rejoice,
And points to Raby's door;
With open heart and open hands,
There Hospitality—she stands,
A nymph, whom men and gods admire,
Daughter of heavenly Goodness she,
Her sister's Generosity,
And Honour is her sire.
Calls to her numerous poor,
And bids their languid hearts rejoice,
And points to Raby's door;
224
There Hospitality—she stands,
A nymph, whom men and gods admire,
Daughter of heavenly Goodness she,
Her sister's Generosity,
And Honour is her sire.
What tho' my Lord, betwixt us lie,
Full many an envious league,
Such vast extent of sea and sky,
As even the eye fatigue;
Tho' interposing ocean raves,
And heaves his heaven assaulting waves,
While on the shores the billows beat,
Yet still my grateful muse is free,
To tune her warmest strains to thee,
And lay them at thy feet.
Full many an envious league,
Such vast extent of sea and sky,
As even the eye fatigue;
Tho' interposing ocean raves,
And heaves his heaven assaulting waves,
While on the shores the billows beat,
Yet still my grateful muse is free,
To tune her warmest strains to thee,
And lay them at thy feet.
Goodness is ever kindly prone
To feign what fate denies,
And others want of worth t'attone,
Finds in herself supplies:
Thus dignity itself restrains,
By condescension's silken reins,
While you the lowly Muse upraise;
When such the theme, so mean the bard,
Not to reject is to reward,
To pardon is to praise.
To feign what fate denies,
And others want of worth t'attone,
Finds in herself supplies:
Thus dignity itself restrains,
By condescension's silken reins,
While you the lowly Muse upraise;
When such the theme, so mean the bard,
Not to reject is to reward,
To pardon is to praise.
| Poems (1791) | |