 | Claremont |  |
1
CLAREMONT.
Address'd to the Right Honourable the EARL of CLARE.
What Frenzy has of late possess'd the Brain,
Tho' Few can write, yet Fewer can refrain!
So rank our Soyle, our Bards rise in such Store,
Their rich Retaining Patrons scarce are more.
The Last indulge the Fault, the First commit;
And take off still the Offall of their Wit.
So shameless, so abandon'd are their Ways;
They poche Parnassus, and lay Snares for Praise.
Tho' Few can write, yet Fewer can refrain!
So rank our Soyle, our Bards rise in such Store,
Their rich Retaining Patrons scarce are more.
The Last indulge the Fault, the First commit;
And take off still the Offall of their Wit.
So shameless, so abandon'd are their Ways;
They poche Parnassus, and lay Snares for Praise.
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None ever can without Admirers live,
Who have a Pension or a Place to give.
Great Ministers ne'er fail of great Deserts;
The Herald gives Them Blood; the Poet, Parts.
Sense is of Course annex'd to Wealth and Pow'r;
No Muse is proof against a golden Show'r.
Let but his Lordship write some poor Lampoon,
He's Horac'd up in Doggrel like his own.
Or if to rant in Tragick Rage he yields,
False Fame crys****Athens; honest Truth****Moorfields.
Thus fool'd, he flounces on through Floods of Ink;
Flaggs with full Sail; and rises but to sink.
Who have a Pension or a Place to give.
Great Ministers ne'er fail of great Deserts;
The Herald gives Them Blood; the Poet, Parts.
Sense is of Course annex'd to Wealth and Pow'r;
No Muse is proof against a golden Show'r.
Let but his Lordship write some poor Lampoon,
He's Horac'd up in Doggrel like his own.
Or if to rant in Tragick Rage he yields,
False Fame crys****Athens; honest Truth****Moorfields.
Thus fool'd, he flounces on through Floods of Ink;
Flaggs with full Sail; and rises but to sink.
Some venal Pens so prostitute the Bays,
Their Panegyricks lash; their Satyrs praise.
So nauseously, and so unlike they paint,
N---'s an Adonis; M---r a Saint
Metius with those fam'd Heroes is compar'd
That led in Triumph Porus and Tallard:
But such a shameless Muse must Laughter move,
That aims to make Salmoneus vye with Jove.
Their Panegyricks lash; their Satyrs praise.
So nauseously, and so unlike they paint,
N---'s an Adonis; M---r a Saint
Metius with those fam'd Heroes is compar'd
That led in Triumph Porus and Tallard:
But such a shameless Muse must Laughter move,
That aims to make Salmoneus vye with Jove.
To form great Works puts Fate it self to Pain,
Ev'n Nature labours for a mighty Man.
And to perpetuate her Hero's Fame,
She strains no less a Poet next to frame.
Rare as the Hero's, is the Poet's Rage;
Churchills and Drydens rise but once an Age.
With Earthquakes tow'ring Pindar's Birth begun;
And an Eclipse produc'd Alcmena's Son:
The Sire of Gods o'er Phœbus cast a Shade;
But, with a Hero, well the World repaid.
Ev'n Nature labours for a mighty Man.
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She strains no less a Poet next to frame.
Rare as the Hero's, is the Poet's Rage;
Churchills and Drydens rise but once an Age.
With Earthquakes tow'ring Pindar's Birth begun;
And an Eclipse produc'd Alcmena's Son:
The Sire of Gods o'er Phœbus cast a Shade;
But, with a Hero, well the World repaid.
No Bard for Bribes shou'd prostitute his Vein;
Nor dare to Flatter where he shou'd Arraign.
To grant big Thraso Valour. Phormi{o}, Sense,
Shou'd Indignation give, at least Offence.
Nor dare to Flatter where he shou'd Arraign.
To grant big Thraso Valour. Phormi{o}, Sense,
Shou'd Indignation give, at least Offence.
I hate such Mercenaries, and wou'd try
From this Reproach to rescue Poetry.
Apollo's Sons shou'd scorn the servile Art,
And to Court Preachers leave the fulsome Part.
From this Reproach to rescue Poetry.
Apollo's Sons shou'd scorn the servile Art,
And to Court Preachers leave the fulsome Part.
What then—You'll say, Must no true Sterling pass,
Because impure Allays some Coin debase?
Yes, Praise, if justly offer'd, I'll allow;
And, when I meet with Merit, scribble too.
Because impure Allays some Coin debase?
Yes, Praise, if justly offer'd, I'll allow;
And, when I meet with Merit, scribble too.
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The Man who's honest, open, and a Friend,
Glad to oblige, uneasie to offend:
Forgiving others, to himself severe;
Tho' earnest, easie; civil, yet sincere;
Who seldom but through great Good-nature errs;
Detesting Fraud as much as Flatterers.
'Tis he my Muse's Homage shou'd receive;
If I cou'd write, or Holles cou'd forgive.
Glad to oblige, uneasie to offend:
Forgiving others, to himself severe;
Tho' earnest, easie; civil, yet sincere;
Who seldom but through great Good-nature errs;
Detesting Fraud as much as Flatterers.
'Tis he my Muse's Homage shou'd receive;
If I cou'd write, or Holles cou'd forgive.
But pardon, learned Youth, that I decline
A Name so lov'd by me, so lately Thine.
When Pelham you resign'd, what cou'd repair
A Loss so great, unless Newcastle's Heir?
Hydaspes that the Asian Plains divides,
From his bright Urn in purest Chrystal glides.
But when new gath'ring Streams enlarge his Course;
He's Indus nam'd, and rolls with mightier Force.
In fabl'd Floods of Gold his Current flows,
And Wealth on Nations, as he runs, bestows.
A Name so lov'd by me, so lately Thine.
When Pelham you resign'd, what cou'd repair
A Loss so great, unless Newcastle's Heir?
Hydaspes that the Asian Plains divides,
From his bright Urn in purest Chrystal glides.
But when new gath'ring Streams enlarge his Course;
He's Indus nam'd, and rolls with mightier Force.
In fabl'd Floods of Gold his Current flows,
And Wealth on Nations, as he runs, bestows.
Direct me, Clare, to name some nobler Muse,
That for her Theme thy late Recess may chuse.
Such bright Descriptions shall the Subject dress;
Such vary'd Scenes, such pleasing Images;
That Swains shall leave their Lawns, and Nymphs their Bow'rs,
And quit Arcadia for a Seat like yours.
That for her Theme thy late Recess may chuse.
Such bright Descriptions shall the Subject dress;
Such vary'd Scenes, such pleasing Images;
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And quit Arcadia for a Seat like yours.
But say, who shall attempt th'advent'rous Part
Where Nature borrows Dress from Vanbrook's Art.
If, by Apollo taught, he touch the Lyre,
Stones mount in Columns, Palaces aspire,
And Rocks are animated with his Fire.
'Tis he can Paint in Verse those rising Hills,
Their gentle Vallies, and their silver Rills:
Close Groves, and op'ning Glades with Verdure spread,
Flow'rs sighing Sweets, and Shrubs that Balsam bleed.
With gay Variety the Prospect crown'd,
And all the bright Horison smiling round.
Where Nature borrows Dress from Vanbrook's Art.
If, by Apollo taught, he touch the Lyre,
Stones mount in Columns, Palaces aspire,
And Rocks are animated with his Fire.
'Tis he can Paint in Verse those rising Hills,
Their gentle Vallies, and their silver Rills:
Close Groves, and op'ning Glades with Verdure spread,
Flow'rs sighing Sweets, and Shrubs that Balsam bleed.
With gay Variety the Prospect crown'd,
And all the bright Horison smiling round.
Whilst I attempt to tell how antient Fame
Records from whence the Villa took its Name.
Records from whence the Villa took its Name.
In Times of old, when British Nymphs were known
To love no foreign Fashions like their own;
When Dress was monstrous, and Fig-leaves the Mode,
And Quality put on no Paint but Woade.
Of Spanish Red unheard was then the Name;
For Cheeks were only taught to blush by Shame.
No Beauty, to encrease her Crowd of Slaves,
Rose out of Wash, as Venus out of Waves.
Not yet Lead Comb was on the Toilett plac'd;
Not yet broad Eye-brows were reduc'd by Paste:
No Shape-smith set up Shop, and drove a Trade
To mend the Work wise Providence had made.
Tyres were unheard of, and unknown the Loom,
And thrifty Silkworms spun for Times to come.
Bare Limbs were then the Marks of Modesty;
All like Diana were below the Knee.
To love no foreign Fashions like their own;
When Dress was monstrous, and Fig-leaves the Mode,
And Quality put on no Paint but Woade.
Of Spanish Red unheard was then the Name;
For Cheeks were only taught to blush by Shame.
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Rose out of Wash, as Venus out of Waves.
Not yet Lead Comb was on the Toilett plac'd;
Not yet broad Eye-brows were reduc'd by Paste:
No Shape-smith set up Shop, and drove a Trade
To mend the Work wise Providence had made.
Tyres were unheard of, and unknown the Loom,
And thrifty Silkworms spun for Times to come.
Bare Limbs were then the Marks of Modesty;
All like Diana were below the Knee.
The Men appear'd a rough undaunted Race,
Surly in Show, unfashion'd in Address.
Upright in Actions, and in Thought sincere;
And strictly were the same they would appear.
Honour was plac'd in Probity alone;
For Villains had no Titles but their own.
None travell'd to return politely Mad;
But still what Fancy wanted, Reason had.
Whatever Nature ask'd, their Hands cou'd give;
Unlearn'd in Feasts, they only eat to live.
No Cook with Art encreas'd Physician's Fees;
Nor serv'd up Death in Soups and Friccacees.
Their Taste was, like their Temper, unrefin'd;
For Looks were then the Language of the Mind.
Surly in Show, unfashion'd in Address.
Upright in Actions, and in Thought sincere;
And strictly were the same they would appear.
Honour was plac'd in Probity alone;
For Villains had no Titles but their own.
None travell'd to return politely Mad;
But still what Fancy wanted, Reason had.
Whatever Nature ask'd, their Hands cou'd give;
Unlearn'd in Feasts, they only eat to live.
No Cook with Art encreas'd Physician's Fees;
Nor serv'd up Death in Soups and Friccacees.
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For Looks were then the Language of the Mind.
E'er Right and Wrong, by turns, set Prices bore;
And Conscience had its Rate like common Whore:
Or Tools to great Employments had Pretence;
Or Merit was made out by Impudence;
Or Coxcombs look'd assuming in Affairs;
And humble Friends grew haughty Ministers.
And Conscience had its Rate like common Whore:
Or Tools to great Employments had Pretence;
Or Merit was made out by Impudence;
Or Coxcombs look'd assuming in Affairs;
And humble Friends grew haughty Ministers.
In those good Days of Innocence, here stood
Of Oaks, with Heads unshorn, a solemn Wood,
Frequented by the Druids, to bestow
Religious Honours on the Misselto.
Of Oaks, with Heads unshorn, a solemn Wood,
Frequented by the Druids, to bestow
Religious Honours on the Misselto.
The Naturalists are puzzel'd to explain
How Trees did first this Stranger entertain:
Whether the busie Birds engraft it there;
Or else some Deity's mysterious Care,
As Druids thought; for when the blasted Oak
By Lightning falls, this Plant escapes the Stroak.
So when the Gauls the Tow'rs of Rome defac'd,
And Flames drove forward with outragious Waste;
Jove's favour'd Capitol uninjur'd stood:
So Sacred was the Mansion of a God.
How Trees did first this Stranger entertain:
Whether the busie Birds engraft it there;
Or else some Deity's mysterious Care,
As Druids thought; for when the blasted Oak
By Lightning falls, this Plant escapes the Stroak.
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And Flames drove forward with outragious Waste;
Jove's favour'd Capitol uninjur'd stood:
So Sacred was the Mansion of a God.
Shades honour'd by this Plant the Druids chose,
Here, for the bleeding Victims, Altars rose.
To Hermes oft they paid their Sacrifice;
Parent of Arts, and Patron of the Wise.
Good Rules in mild Perswasions they convey'd;
Their Lives confirming what their Lectures said.
None violated Truth, invaded Right;
Yet had few Laws, but Will and Appetite.
The People's Peace they study'd, and profest
No Politicks but Publick Interest.
Hard was their Lodging, homely was their Food;
For all their Luxury was doing Good.
Here, for the bleeding Victims, Altars rose.
To Hermes oft they paid their Sacrifice;
Parent of Arts, and Patron of the Wise.
Good Rules in mild Perswasions they convey'd;
Their Lives confirming what their Lectures said.
None violated Truth, invaded Right;
Yet had few Laws, but Will and Appetite.
The People's Peace they study'd, and profest
No Politicks but Publick Interest.
Hard was their Lodging, homely was their Food;
For all their Luxury was doing Good.
No Miter'd Priest did then with Princes vie,
Nor, o'er his Master, claim Supremacy;
Nor were the Rules of Faith allow'd more pure,
For being sev'ral Centuries obscure.
None lost their Fortunes, forfeited their Blood,
For not believing what None understood.
Nor Symony, nor Sine-Cure were known;
Nor wou'd the Bee work Honey for the Drone.
Nor was the Way invented, to dismiss
Frail Abigals with fat Pluralities.
Nor, o'er his Master, claim Supremacy;
Nor were the Rules of Faith allow'd more pure,
For being sev'ral Centuries obscure.
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For not believing what None understood.
Nor Symony, nor Sine-Cure were known;
Nor wou'd the Bee work Honey for the Drone.
Nor was the Way invented, to dismiss
Frail Abigals with fat Pluralities.
But then in Fillets bound, a hallow'd Band
Taught how to tend the Flocks, and till the Land:
Cou'd tell what Murrains in what Months begun,
And how the Seasons travell'd with the Sun:
When his dim Orb seem'd wading through the Air,
They told that Rain on dropping Wings drew near;
And that the Winds their bellowing Throats wou'd try,
When redd'ning Clouds reflect his Blood-shot Eye.
Taught how to tend the Flocks, and till the Land:
Cou'd tell what Murrains in what Months begun,
And how the Seasons travell'd with the Sun:
When his dim Orb seem'd wading through the Air,
They told that Rain on dropping Wings drew near;
And that the Winds their bellowing Throats wou'd try,
When redd'ning Clouds reflect his Blood-shot Eye.
All their Remarks on Nature's Laws, require
More Lines than wou'd ev'n Alpin's Readers tire.
More Lines than wou'd ev'n Alpin's Readers tire.
This Sect in sacred Veneration held
Opinions, by the Samian Sage reveal'd;
That Matter no Annihilation knows,
But wanders from These Tenements to Those.
For when the Plastick Particles are gone,
They rally in some Species like their own.
The Self-same Atoms, if new jumbl'd, will
In Seas be restless, and in Earth be still;
Can, in the Trufle, furnish out a Feast;
And nauseate, in the scaly Squill, the Taste.
Those falling Leaves that wither with the Year,
Will, in the next, on other Stems appear.
The Sap that now forsakes the bursting Bud,
In some new Shoot will circulate green Blood.
The Breath to Day that from the Jasmin blows,
Will, when the Season offers, scent the Rose;
And those bright Flames that in Carnations glow,
E'er long will blanch the Lilly with a Snow.
Opinions, by the Samian Sage reveal'd;
That Matter no Annihilation knows,
But wanders from These Tenements to Those.
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They rally in some Species like their own.
The Self-same Atoms, if new jumbl'd, will
In Seas be restless, and in Earth be still;
Can, in the Trufle, furnish out a Feast;
And nauseate, in the scaly Squill, the Taste.
Those falling Leaves that wither with the Year,
Will, in the next, on other Stems appear.
The Sap that now forsakes the bursting Bud,
In some new Shoot will circulate green Blood.
The Breath to Day that from the Jasmin blows,
Will, when the Season offers, scent the Rose;
And those bright Flames that in Carnations glow,
E'er long will blanch the Lilly with a Snow.
They hold that Matter must be still the same;
And varies but in Figure and in Name.
And that the Soul not dies, but shifts her Seat;
New Rounds of Life to run; or past, repeat.
Thus when the Brave and Virtuous cease to live;
In Beings brave and virtuous they revive.
Again shall Romulus in Nassau reign;
Great Numa, in a Brunswick Prince, ordain
Good Laws; and Halcyon Years shall hush the World again.
And varies but in Figure and in Name.
And that the Soul not dies, but shifts her Seat;
New Rounds of Life to run; or past, repeat.
Thus when the Brave and Virtuous cease to live;
In Beings brave and virtuous they revive.
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Great Numa, in a Brunswick Prince, ordain
Good Laws; and Halcyon Years shall hush the World again.
The Truths of old Traditions were their Theme;
Or Gods descending in a Morning Dream.
Pass'd Acts they cited; and to come, foretold;
And cou'd Events, not ripe for Fate, unfold.
Beneath the shady Covert of an Oak,
In Rhymes uncooth, prophetick Truths they spoke.
Attend then Clare; nor is the Legend long;
The Story of thy Villa is their Song.
Or Gods descending in a Morning Dream.
Pass'd Acts they cited; and to come, foretold;
And cou'd Events, not ripe for Fate, unfold.
Beneath the shady Covert of an Oak,
In Rhymes uncooth, prophetick Truths they spoke.
Attend then Clare; nor is the Legend long;
The Story of thy Villa is their Song.
The fair Montano, of the Sylvan Race,
Was with each Beauty bless'd, and ev'ry Grace.
His Sire, green Faunus, Guardian of the Wood;
His Mother, a swift Naiad of the Flood.
Her Silver Urn supply'd the neighb'ring Streams,
A darling Daughter of the bounteous Thames.
Was with each Beauty bless'd, and ev'ry Grace.
His Sire, green Faunus, Guardian of the Wood;
His Mother, a swift Naiad of the Flood.
Her Silver Urn supply'd the neighb'ring Streams,
A darling Daughter of the bounteous Thames.
Not lovelier seem'd Narcissus to the Eye;
Nor, when a Flower, cou'd boast more Fragrancy.
His Skin might with the Down of Swans compare,
More smooth than Pearl; than Mountain Snow more fair.
In Shape so Poplars, or the Cedars please:
But Those are not so streight; nor graceful These.
His flowing Hair in unforc'd Ringlets hung;
Tuneful his Voice, persuasive was his Tongue.
The haughtiest Fair scarce heard without a Wound,
But sunk to Softness at the melting Sound.
Nor, when a Flower, cou'd boast more Fragrancy.
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More smooth than Pearl; than Mountain Snow more fair.
In Shape so Poplars, or the Cedars please:
But Those are not so streight; nor graceful These.
His flowing Hair in unforc'd Ringlets hung;
Tuneful his Voice, persuasive was his Tongue.
The haughtiest Fair scarce heard without a Wound,
But sunk to Softness at the melting Sound.
The fourth bright Lustre had but just begun
To shade his blushing Cheeks with doubtful Down.
All Day he rang'd the Woods, and spread the Toils,
And knew no Pleasures but in Sylvan Spoils.
In vain the Nymphs put on each pleasing Grace;
Too cheap the Quarry seem'd, too short the Chace.
For tho' Possession be th'undoubted View;
To seize, is far less Pleasure than pursue.
Those Nymphs that yield too soon, their Charms impair,
And prove at last but despicably Fair.
His own Undoing Glutton Love decrees;
And palls the Appetite, he meant to please.
His slender Wants too largely he supplies:
Thrives on short Meals, but by Indulgence dies.
To shade his blushing Cheeks with doubtful Down.
All Day he rang'd the Woods, and spread the Toils,
And knew no Pleasures but in Sylvan Spoils.
In vain the Nymphs put on each pleasing Grace;
Too cheap the Quarry seem'd, too short the Chace.
For tho' Possession be th'undoubted View;
To seize, is far less Pleasure than pursue.
Those Nymphs that yield too soon, their Charms impair,
And prove at last but despicably Fair.
His own Undoing Glutton Love decrees;
And palls the Appetite, he meant to please.
His slender Wants too largely he supplies:
Thrives on short Meals, but by Indulgence dies.
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A Grott there was with hoary Moss o'ergrown,
Rough with rude Shells, and arch'd with mouldring Stone;
Sad Silence reigns within the loansom Wall;
And weeping Rills but whisper as they fall.
The clasping Ivys up the Ruin creep;
And there the Bat, and drowsie Beetle sleep.
Rough with rude Shells, and arch'd with mouldring Stone;
Sad Silence reigns within the loansom Wall;
And weeping Rills but whisper as they fall.
The clasping Ivys up the Ruin creep;
And there the Bat, and drowsie Beetle sleep.
This Cell sad Eccho chose, by Love betray'd,
A fit Retirement for a mourning Maid.
Hither fatigu'd with Toil, the Sylvain flies
To shun the Calenture of sultry Skies:
But feels a fiercer Flame, Love's keenest Dart
Finds through his Eyes a Passage to his Heart.
Pensive the Virgin sate with folded Arms,
Her Tears but lending Luster to her Charms.
With Pity he beholds her wounding Woes;
But wants himself the Pity he bestows.
A fit Retirement for a mourning Maid.
Hither fatigu'd with Toil, the Sylvain flies
To shun the Calenture of sultry Skies:
But feels a fiercer Flame, Love's keenest Dart
Finds through his Eyes a Passage to his Heart.
Pensive the Virgin sate with folded Arms,
Her Tears but lending Luster to her Charms.
With Pity he beholds her wounding Woes;
But wants himself the Pity he bestows.
Oh whether of a Mortal born! he cries;
Or some fair Daughter of the distant Skies;
That, in Compassion leave your Chrystal Sphere,
To guard some favour'd Charge, and wander here.
Slight not my Suit, nor too ungentle prove;
But pity One, a Novice yet in Love.
If Words avail not; see my suppliant Tears;
Nor disregard those dumb Petitioners.
Or some fair Daughter of the distant Skies;
That, in Compassion leave your Chrystal Sphere,
To guard some favour'd Charge, and wander here.
Slight not my Suit, nor too ungentle prove;
But pity One, a Novice yet in Love.
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Nor disregard those dumb Petitioners.
From his Complaint the Tyrant Virgin flies,
Asserting all the Empire of her Eyes.
Asserting all the Empire of her Eyes.
Full thrice three Days he lingers out in Grief,
Nor seeks from Sleep, or Sustenance, Relief.
The Lamp of Life now casts a glimm'ring Light;
The meeting Lids his setting Eyes benight.
What Force remains, the hapless Lover tries;
Invoking thus his kindred Deities.
Nor seeks from Sleep, or Sustenance, Relief.
The Lamp of Life now casts a glimm'ring Light;
The meeting Lids his setting Eyes benight.
What Force remains, the hapless Lover tries;
Invoking thus his kindred Deities.
Haste, Parents of the Flood, your Race to mourn;
With Tears replenish each exhausted Urn.
Retake the Life you gave, but let the Maid
Fall a just Victim to an injur'd Shade.
More he endeavour'd; but the Accents hung
Half form'd, and stopp'd unfinish'd on his Tongue.
With Tears replenish each exhausted Urn.
Retake the Life you gave, but let the Maid
Fall a just Victim to an injur'd Shade.
More he endeavour'd; but the Accents hung
Half form'd, and stopp'd unfinish'd on his Tongue.
For him the Graces their sad Vigils keep;
Love broke his Bow, and wish'd for Eyes to weep.
What Gods can do, the mournful Faunus tries;
A Mount erecting where the Sylvan lies.
The Rural Pow'rs the wond'rous Pile survey,
And piously their diff'rent Honours pay.
Th'Ascent, with verdant Herbage Pales spread;
And Nymphs transform'd to Laurels, lent their Shade.
Her Stream a Naiad from the Basis pours;
And Flora strows the Summit with her Flowers.
Alone Mount Latmos claims Pre-eminence,
When Silver Cynthia lights the World from thence.
Love broke his Bow, and wish'd for Eyes to weep.
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A Mount erecting where the Sylvan lies.
The Rural Pow'rs the wond'rous Pile survey,
And piously their diff'rent Honours pay.
Th'Ascent, with verdant Herbage Pales spread;
And Nymphs transform'd to Laurels, lent their Shade.
Her Stream a Naiad from the Basis pours;
And Flora strows the Summit with her Flowers.
Alone Mount Latmos claims Pre-eminence,
When Silver Cynthia lights the World from thence.
Sad Eccho now laments her Rigour, more
Than for Narcissus her loose Flame before.
Her Flesh to Sinew shrinks, her Charms are fled;
All Day in rifted Rocks she hides her Head.
Soon as the Ev'ning shows a Sky serene,
Abroad she strays, but never to be seen.
And ever as the weeping Naiads name
Her Cruelty, the Nymph repeats the same.
With them she joins, her Lover to deplore,
And haunts the lonely Dales, he rang'd before.
Her Sex's Privilege she yet retains;
And tho' to Nothing wasted, Voice remains.
Than for Narcissus her loose Flame before.
Her Flesh to Sinew shrinks, her Charms are fled;
All Day in rifted Rocks she hides her Head.
Soon as the Ev'ning shows a Sky serene,
Abroad she strays, but never to be seen.
And ever as the weeping Naiads name
Her Cruelty, the Nymph repeats the same.
With them she joins, her Lover to deplore,
And haunts the lonely Dales, he rang'd before.
Her Sex's Privilege she yet retains;
And tho' to Nothing wasted, Voice remains.
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So sung the Druids—then with Rapture fir'd,
Thus utter what the Delphick God inspir'd.
Thus utter what the Delphick God inspir'd.
E'er twice ten Centuries shall fleet away,
A Brunswick Prince shall Britain's Scepter sway.
No more fair Liberty shall mourn her Chains;
The Maid is rescu'd, her lov'd Perseus reigns.
From Jove he comes, the Captive to restore;
Nor can the Thunder of his Sire do more.
Religion shall dread nothing but Disguise;
And Justice need no Bandage for her Eyes.
Britannia smiles, nor fears a foreign Lord;
Her Safety to secure, Two Powers accord,
Her Neptune's Trident, and her Monarch's Sword.
Like him, shall his Augustus shine in Arms,
Tho' Captive to his Carolina's Charms.
Ages with future Heroes She shall bless;
And Venus once more found an Alban Race.
A Brunswick Prince shall Britain's Scepter sway.
No more fair Liberty shall mourn her Chains;
The Maid is rescu'd, her lov'd Perseus reigns.
From Jove he comes, the Captive to restore;
Nor can the Thunder of his Sire do more.
Religion shall dread nothing but Disguise;
And Justice need no Bandage for her Eyes.
Britannia smiles, nor fears a foreign Lord;
Her Safety to secure, Two Powers accord,
Her Neptune's Trident, and her Monarch's Sword.
Like him, shall his Augustus shine in Arms,
Tho' Captive to his Carolina's Charms.
Ages with future Heroes She shall bless;
And Venus once more found an Alban Race.
Then shall a Clare in Honour's Cause engage:
Example must reclaim a graceless Age.
Where Guides themselves for Guilty Views mis-lead;
And Laws ev'n by the Legislators bleed
His brave Contempt of State shall teach the Proud,
None but the Virtuous are of Noble Blood.
For Tyrants are but Princes in Disguise,
Tho' sprung by long Descents from Ptolomies.
Right he shall Vindicate, good Laws defend;
The firmest Patriot, and the warmest Friend.
Great Edward's Order early He shall wear;
New Light restoring to the sully'd Star.
Oft will his Leisure this Retirement chuse,
Still finding future Subjects for the Muse,
And to record the Sylvan's fatal Flame.
The Place shall live in Song; and Claremont be the Name.
Example must reclaim a graceless Age.
Where Guides themselves for Guilty Views mis-lead;
And Laws ev'n by the Legislators bleed
17
None but the Virtuous are of Noble Blood.
For Tyrants are but Princes in Disguise,
Tho' sprung by long Descents from Ptolomies.
Right he shall Vindicate, good Laws defend;
The firmest Patriot, and the warmest Friend.
Great Edward's Order early He shall wear;
New Light restoring to the sully'd Star.
Oft will his Leisure this Retirement chuse,
Still finding future Subjects for the Muse,
And to record the Sylvan's fatal Flame.
The Place shall live in Song; and Claremont be the Name.
FINIS.
Mores eis simplices, à versutiâ & improbitate nostræ tempestatis hominum longe remoti. See Diod. Sic. Bib. Hist. L. IV. Vers. Lat.
Et nihil habent Druidæ visco, & arbore in quâ gignatur, si modò sit robur, sacratius.
Plin. ibid.
Et Viscum Druida.
Ovid.
Deum maximè Mercurium colunt: Hunc omnium inventorem artium ferunt: Post hunc, Jovem, Apollinem &c. Cæs.
Imprimus hoc volunt persuadere, non interire animas, sed ab aliis post mortem transire ad alios. Cæs.
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