 | The Poetical Works of Percival Stockdale |  |
253
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
255
AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF DR. JOHNSON'S FAVORITE CAT.
1764.
Let not the honest muse disdain
For Hodge to wake the plaintive strain.
Shall poets prostitute their lays
In offering venal statesmen praise;
By them shall flowers Parnassian bloom
Around the tyrant's gaudy tomb;
And shall not Hodge's memory claim
Of innocence the candid fame;
Shall not his worth a poem fill,
Who never thought, nor uttered ill;
Who, by his master, when caressed,
Warmly his gratitude expressed;
And never failed his thanks to purr
Whene'er he stroaked his sable furr?
For Hodge to wake the plaintive strain.
Shall poets prostitute their lays
In offering venal statesmen praise;
By them shall flowers Parnassian bloom
Around the tyrant's gaudy tomb;
And shall not Hodge's memory claim
Of innocence the candid fame;
256
Who never thought, nor uttered ill;
Who, by his master, when caressed,
Warmly his gratitude expressed;
And never failed his thanks to purr
Whene'er he stroaked his sable furr?
The general conduct if we trace
Of our articulating race,
Hodge's example we shall find
A keen reproof to human kind.
Of our articulating race,
Hodge's example we shall find
A keen reproof to human kind.
He lived in town, yet ne'er got drunk,
Nor spent one farthing on a punk;
He never filched a single groat,
Nor bilked a taylor of a coat;
His garb when first he drew his breath,
His dress through life, his shroud in death.
Nor spent one farthing on a punk;
He never filched a single groat,
Nor bilked a taylor of a coat;
His garb when first he drew his breath,
His dress through life, his shroud in death.
Of human speech to have the power,
To move on two legs, not on four;
To view with unobstructed eye
The verdant field, the azure sky
Favoured by luxury, to wear
The velvet down, the golden glare—
If honour from these gifts we claim,
Chartres had too severe a fame.
To move on two legs, not on four;
To view with unobstructed eye
The verdant field, the azure sky
257
The velvet down, the golden glare—
If honour from these gifts we claim,
Chartres had too severe a fame.
But wouldst thou, son of Adam, learn
Praise from thy noblest powers to earn;
Dost thou, with generous pride, aspire
Thy nature's glory to acquire?
Then in thy life exert the man,
With moral deeds adorn the span;
Let virtue in thy bosom lodge;
Or wish thou hadst been born a Hodge.
Praise from thy noblest powers to earn;
Dost thou, with generous pride, aspire
Thy nature's glory to acquire?
Then in thy life exert the man,
With moral deeds adorn the span;
Let virtue in thy bosom lodge;
Or wish thou hadst been born a Hodge.
258
AN ODE TO A RIVULET;
The Ode is supposed to be written by Diogenes the Philosopher.
Nymph of this fount, accept my lays;
Nor spurn sincere, and virtuous praise.
Well may the influence of thy stream
Excite the poet's hallowed theme;
For as thy waters flow, they bring
Fresh health, and vigour to the spring.
Down the romantick slope they glide,
Their parent-mountain's grace, and pride.
The feathered songsters of the tree
Catch rural melody from thee;
While the responsive hill, and dale,
Return the soothing, amorous tale.
The rose, and jasmine, by thy aid,
With richer sweets perfume the shade;
And Zephyr with more liberal hand
Diffuses fragrance o'er the land.
Nor spurn sincere, and virtuous praise.
Well may the influence of thy stream
Excite the poet's hallowed theme;
For as thy waters flow, they bring
Fresh health, and vigour to the spring.
Down the romantick slope they glide,
Their parent-mountain's grace, and pride.
The feathered songsters of the tree
Catch rural melody from thee;
While the responsive hill, and dale,
Return the soothing, amorous tale.
The rose, and jasmine, by thy aid,
With richer sweets perfume the shade;
And Zephyr with more liberal hand
Diffuses fragrance o'er the land.
259
When fair Aurora's gentle ray
Gilds with it's light the new-born day,
Her beauty, by the heavenly maid,
In thy clear mirrour is surveyed;
The pleasing sight her bosom warms,
Her face is flushed with brighter charms.
Gilds with it's light the new-born day,
Her beauty, by the heavenly maid,
In thy clear mirrour is surveyed;
The pleasing sight her bosom warms,
Her face is flushed with brighter charms.
Oh! emblem of my favourite plan,
Example strong to wayward man;
In thee his contrast I descry,
And view thee with a moral eye!
Thy varied beauties joys dispense
Not merely to external sense;
Sublimer pleasures they impart,
Inform the head, and please the heart.
Example strong to wayward man;
In thee his contrast I descry,
And view thee with a moral eye!
Thy varied beauties joys dispense
Not merely to external sense;
Sublimer pleasures they impart,
Inform the head, and please the heart.
No wild excess deforms thy course,
No inundation, no rude force:
Though widely thy meanders wind,
They leave no trace of ill behind;
They pleasure, and convenience blend,
The good of human kind their end;
Their limpid moisture cheers the plain,
Their murmuring musick lulls the swain;
Through flowery labyrinths they stray,
Yet without error hold their way.
No inundation, no rude force:
Though widely thy meanders wind,
They leave no trace of ill behind;
They pleasure, and convenience blend,
The good of human kind their end;
Their limpid moisture cheers the plain,
Their murmuring musick lulls the swain;
260
Yet without error hold their way.
Thy faithful bosom I admire,
And feel for truth a sacred fire.
Nought foul thy candid bosom holds,
Hence, all it's objects it unfolds:
I see it, it's contents declare;
Each pebble may be counted there.
There are the mimic branches seen,
The glowing flower, the velvet-green;
Thy chrystal, true to nature's laws,
Gives back each image which it draws.
And feel for truth a sacred fire.
Nought foul thy candid bosom holds,
Hence, all it's objects it unfolds:
I see it, it's contents declare;
Each pebble may be counted there.
There are the mimic branches seen,
The glowing flower, the velvet-green;
Thy chrystal, true to nature's laws,
Gives back each image which it draws.
Bright pattern of the golden age;
Descriptive lecture of the sage;
May I retain thee in my mind,
And use the document I find!
Oft may I quit the city's noise,
It's ruthless wiles, it's guilty joys;
The dangerous haunts of mortals flee,
And dwell with innocence, and thee!
Descriptive lecture of the sage;
May I retain thee in my mind,
And use the document I find!
Oft may I quit the city's noise,
It's ruthless wiles, it's guilty joys;
The dangerous haunts of mortals flee,
And dwell with innocence, and thee!
261
ON SEEING MR. GARRICK IN DON JOHN,
AND HIS AGE IN THE PUBLIC PAPERS.
Nature her sons of genius rare,
Those matchless men we style divine,
Sometimes protects with partial care,
And long they live, and long they shine.
Those matchless men we style divine,
Sometimes protects with partial care,
And long they live, and long they shine.
Last night confirmed I saw this truth,
When England's Roscius played Don John,
With all the activity of youth,
With all the fire of twenty-one.
When England's Roscius played Don John,
With all the activity of youth,
With all the fire of twenty-one.
Yet time with rigour turns his glass
And men and empires are no more;
Garrick by him is doomed to pass
The bourne his Shakespeare passed before.
And men and empires are no more;
Garrick by him is doomed to pass
The bourne his Shakespeare passed before.
262
Then let the generous youth, too warm
To read the moral system's page,
Whom Shakespeare's nobler ethics charm,
And all the magic of the stage;—
To read the moral system's page,
Whom Shakespeare's nobler ethics charm,
And all the magic of the stage;—
Yet knows not our first actor's power—
Let him lay hold on fleeting time;
A transient privilege is ours;
We yet see Garrick in his prime.
Let him lay hold on fleeting time;
A transient privilege is ours;
We yet see Garrick in his prime.
Capricious man! we oft neglect
The good we can with ease acquire,
Too late our folly recollect,
And sigh, and pine with vain desire.
The good we can with ease acquire,
Too late our folly recollect,
And sigh, and pine with vain desire.
Fancy our judgment still misleads—
The hero must resign his breath
Before we justly prize his deeds;
His fame is ratified by death.
The hero must resign his breath
Before we justly prize his deeds;
His fame is ratified by death.
The poet's bays are in full bloom,
When he no more enjoys the light;
Nought like the verdict of his tomb,
Proves how divinely he could write.
When he no more enjoys the light;
Nought like the verdict of his tomb,
Proves how divinely he could write.
263
I, too, adopt, like other men,
All this extravagance of thought:
What would I give to touch a pen,
With which my favourite Dryden wrote!
All this extravagance of thought:
What would I give to touch a pen,
With which my favourite Dryden wrote!
How strongly such attractions draw!
Tully through brambles urged his way,
To visit, with religious awe,
The grave where Archimedes lay.
Tully through brambles urged his way,
To visit, with religious awe,
The grave where Archimedes lay.
Thus, in that venerable fane,
Where monarchs, heroes, bards repose,
When the strong monumental strain
Thy talents, Garrick, faintly shows;—
Where monarchs, heroes, bards repose,
When the strong monumental strain
Thy talents, Garrick, faintly shows;—
Should One, who has thy friendship, live
With streaming eye the verse to see,
To him thy shade a wreath would give,
Thy glory would reflect on me.
With streaming eye the verse to see,
To him thy shade a wreath would give,
Thy glory would reflect on me.
And envy's lyes I'd then defeat;
The poet's monument I'd raise;
I'd sing thy virtues, and complete
The epitaph's deficient praise;
The poet's monument I'd raise;
I'd sing thy virtues, and complete
The epitaph's deficient praise;
264
Thy zeal for every liberal art,
To misery's tale thy listening ear—
I'd paint thee, through life's arduous part,
As great in Garrick as in Lear.
To misery's tale thy listening ear—
I'd paint thee, through life's arduous part,
As great in Garrick as in Lear.
265
PROLOGUE, For the School for Wives.
Harriet, with all the life of gay sixteen,
A friend to irony, a foe to spleen;
A sly inspector into modern life,
And therefore wishing to commence a wife,
My fancy thought it overheard, to-day,
Thus to her sister criticize our play.
A friend to irony, a foe to spleen;
A sly inspector into modern life,
And therefore wishing to commence a wife,
My fancy thought it overheard, to-day,
Thus to her sister criticize our play.
“What can this antiquated poet mean,
A stranger sure to life's important scene?
Some dull Welsh hermit of the reverend gown;
He must be unacquainted with the town.
Once by this piece it's author will not dine:
It ne'er will turn the parson's ale to wine.
A stranger sure to life's important scene?
Some dull Welsh hermit of the reverend gown;
He must be unacquainted with the town.
Once by this piece it's author will not dine:
It ne'er will turn the parson's ale to wine.
“The pedant opens a new School for Wives;
Why, marriage is the study of our lives.
Instinctive soon unfolds the favorite thought;
The principles of genius are self-taught.
We plot, we find, even at the boarding-school,
The way to win him, and the way to rule.
Mixed with the world we learn to top our parts:
And soon we're Graduates, Mistresses of Arts.
With rapid progress the true ton we seize,
And at Cornellys' take our high degrees.
Vauxhall, the Park, where Venus with her doves,
Sailing in æther, delegates her loves,
These are the female academic groves.
In short, down pleasure's stream we safely steer;
What can we profit by this mountaineer?”
Why, marriage is the study of our lives.
Instinctive soon unfolds the favorite thought;
The principles of genius are self-taught.
266
The way to win him, and the way to rule.
Mixed with the world we learn to top our parts:
And soon we're Graduates, Mistresses of Arts.
With rapid progress the true ton we seize,
And at Cornellys' take our high degrees.
Vauxhall, the Park, where Venus with her doves,
Sailing in æther, delegates her loves,
These are the female academic groves.
In short, down pleasure's stream we safely steer;
What can we profit by this mountaineer?”
Such are the hasty sentiments of youth,
Ever impatient of a search for truth.
You we request, ere you condemn, to hear;
He who would mend your heart, deserves your ear.
One word which Harriet spoke, I own, was true;
A school our author opens somewhat new.
Something he'd alter in your education,
Something, which hurting you, must hurt a nation.
Tutored by him, you'll quit the selfish rules,
Framed to subdue, and govern, dupes, and fools:
Oft by those rules poor empire you maintain,
And oft lose husbands you should strive to gain;
You lose the wise, the generous, and the brave;
And what fair Briton would command a Slave?
Ever impatient of a search for truth.
You we request, ere you condemn, to hear;
He who would mend your heart, deserves your ear.
One word which Harriet spoke, I own, was true;
A school our author opens somewhat new.
Something he'd alter in your education,
Something, which hurting you, must hurt a nation.
Tutored by him, you'll quit the selfish rules,
Framed to subdue, and govern, dupes, and fools:
Oft by those rules poor empire you maintain,
And oft lose husbands you should strive to gain;
267
And what fair Briton would command a Slave?
Ingenuous natures wish you to reclaim?
By placid virtue you'll insure your aim:
Virtue, serene, and social, and refined,
Virtue, that opens, while she guards, the mind;
That gilds with bliss the matrimonial hours,
And decks her laurel with the brightest flowers;
That feels it still her province to be gay,
And makes mankind enamoured of her sway.
By placid virtue you'll insure your aim:
Virtue, serene, and social, and refined,
Virtue, that opens, while she guards, the mind;
That gilds with bliss the matrimonial hours,
And decks her laurel with the brightest flowers;
That feels it still her province to be gay,
And makes mankind enamoured of her sway.
“Ye married fair,” deign to attend our school;
And without usurpation you shall rule;
Deign from our model to adopt your part,
And soon you'll fix the husband's vagrant heart;
Soon will he cease mean objects to pursue,
In conscience wretched till he lives to you:
Your charms will reformation's pain beguile,
And vice receive a stab from every smile.
And without usurpation you shall rule;
Deign from our model to adopt your part,
And soon you'll fix the husband's vagrant heart;
Soon will he cease mean objects to pursue,
In conscience wretched till he lives to you:
Your charms will reformation's pain beguile,
And vice receive a stab from every smile.
London, Nov. 20, 1773.
268
To ------
[_]
The Lady who is the principal object in the following poem, I yet highly esteem for her most respectable virtues, and admire for her elegant taste.
Sept. 20th, 1777.
You saw, my friend, in Wickham's wood,
My rural tribute to the nine;
For there, you say, uninjured stood
Maria's name prefixed to mine.
My rural tribute to the nine;
For there, you say, uninjured stood
Maria's name prefixed to mine.
That bold inscription, in your grove,
I cut, with too aspiring flame;
(How warm imaginations rove!)
I though it poetry, and fame.
I cut, with too aspiring flame;
(How warm imaginations rove!)
I though it poetry, and fame.
Her friendship, carved in rustic style,
I thought excelled elaborate lays;
I thought her still approving smile
Would crown me with immortal praise.
I thought excelled elaborate lays;
I thought her still approving smile
Would crown me with immortal praise.
269
But my sad history's present page
Brings your old prophet to my view;
And sure, an oracle more sage
Dodona's forest never knew.
Brings your old prophet to my view;
And sure, an oracle more sage
Dodona's forest never knew.
For, in your venerable shade,
As I my rude memorial wrought,
Impelled to tasks which ne'er upbraid,
The wood a hoary peasant sought.
As I my rude memorial wrought,
Impelled to tasks which ne'er upbraid,
The wood a hoary peasant sought.
The solemn pedants of the schools
May boast their systematic strain;
But nature's more authentic rules,
And sense, and truth inspire the swain.
May boast their systematic strain;
But nature's more authentic rules,
And sense, and truth inspire the swain.
The patriarch of the peaceful vale
Approached, my characters to see;
To hear the poet's favorite tale
Explain the letters on the tree.
Approached, my characters to see;
To hear the poet's favorite tale
Explain the letters on the tree.
His words with moral strength were fraught;
I well remember all he spoke;
I almost thought him, while he taught,
The Druid of some aged oak.
I well remember all he spoke;
I almost thought him, while he taught,
The Druid of some aged oak.
270
“Short bounds determine (said the sage)
The joys, the cares, the toils of man;
His works are transient, like his age,
His labours, and his life, a span.
The joys, the cares, the toils of man;
His works are transient, like his age,
His labours, and his life, a span.
“Still trifles agitate his breast,
Delusive meteors of the day;
And some are, in their birth, suppressed;
And some, in thinking, die away.
Delusive meteors of the day;
And some are, in their birth, suppressed;
And some, in thinking, die away.
“Objects, whose death is less in haste,
To calm reflexion are not late;
For worne by time's perpetual waste,
They yield to all-subduing fate.
To calm reflexion are not late;
For worne by time's perpetual waste,
They yield to all-subduing fate.
“And say, what theme employs thy mind;
What occupies the sculptor here?
A theme, perhaps, which he will find
Worse than indifferent in a year.
What occupies the sculptor here?
A theme, perhaps, which he will find
Worse than indifferent in a year.
“Some pupil fair of London's art,
Where polished falsehood holds her reign?
Or warms a rural nymph thy heart,
Some ruddy virgin of the plain?
Where polished falsehood holds her reign?
Or warms a rural nymph thy heart,
Some ruddy virgin of the plain?
271
“Or some protectress of renown,
Some guardian of the muse's flame;
Whose sovereign taste directs the town,
And slakes ambition's thirst with fame?
Some guardian of the muse's flame;
Whose sovereign taste directs the town,
And slakes ambition's thirst with fame?
“Rash man, you court a constant strife
With numerous woes; of verse beware;
I've heard, and read the poet's life;
His toil is, thought; his prize is, air.
With numerous woes; of verse beware;
I've heard, and read the poet's life;
His toil is, thought; his prize is, air.
“Though now her friendship you enjoy,
And on her eulogies repose,
Envy that friendship may destroy;
For merit brings a host of foes.
And on her eulogies repose,
Envy that friendship may destroy;
For merit brings a host of foes.
“Politeness may have formed your friend,
Politeness in the bright extreme;
On which the wretches who depend,
For truth mistake a golden dream.
Politeness in the bright extreme;
On which the wretches who depend,
For truth mistake a golden dream.
“Charms to the person, to the face
It gives; but withers Virtue's bloom;
It's varnish rots her nobler grace;
It is the Scripture's whited tomb.
It gives; but withers Virtue's bloom;
It's varnish rots her nobler grace;
It is the Scripture's whited tomb.
272
“'Tis branded by the moral pen;
Opinion, still, the dastard fears;
'Tis meanly all things to all men;
It never is what it appears.
Opinion, still, the dastard fears;
'Tis meanly all things to all men;
It never is what it appears.
“But should your patroness withstand
Each barbarous witling of the age,
The dull, and the malicious band,
That constant war with genius wage;
Each barbarous witling of the age,
The dull, and the malicious band,
That constant war with genius wage;
“In affluence give your strains to flow,
And bid with Pope's their spirit vie;
On one plain truth your thoughts bestow;—
Yourself, your friend, your verse, must die.
And bid with Pope's their spirit vie;
On one plain truth your thoughts bestow;—
Yourself, your friend, your verse, must die.
“All the great scenes that bards display,
All their strong pictures of mankind,
By time's impression will decay,
Like this inscription on the rind.
All their strong pictures of mankind,
By time's impression will decay,
Like this inscription on the rind.
“For time's relentless hand, these lines
Will first distort, and then erase;
Resistless hand! that undermines
The pyramid's enormous base.
Will first distort, and then erase;
Resistless hand! that undermines
The pyramid's enormous base.
273
“Then let the fit, the good, the true,
Be all thy work, and all thy care;
Through life, their sacred path pursue,
Nor substance quit for tinsel glare.
Be all thy work, and all thy care;
Through life, their sacred path pursue,
Nor substance quit for tinsel glare.
“Give reason her divine controul;
And to be great, be truly wise;
Let prospects animate thy soul,
Sublime, and lasting, as the skies.”
And to be great, be truly wise;
Let prospects animate thy soul,
Sublime, and lasting, as the skies.”
To me these words, in vain addressed,
Produced but momentary awe;
As wayward Christians are impressed,
In hearing their affecting law.
Produced but momentary awe;
As wayward Christians are impressed,
In hearing their affecting law.
But since, I've longer felt their force;
For where persuasion's current fails,
Adversity's alarming course,
Her stronger torrent oft prevails.
For where persuasion's current fails,
Adversity's alarming course,
Her stronger torrent oft prevails.
How to the swain Maria's praise
Flowed from the poet's lavish tongue,
Shall not employ these temperate lays;
Nor on my accents how he hung.
Flowed from the poet's lavish tongue,
Shall not employ these temperate lays;
Nor on my accents how he hung.
274
The picture, which my fancy drew
I wish to recollect no more;
It brings a groupe of woes to view;
It wounds the breast it soothed before.
I wish to recollect no more;
It brings a groupe of woes to view;
It wounds the breast it soothed before.
Yet her neglect I'll errour deem;
For had she all my nature known;
Surveyed the springs of my esteem,
It's honest rise, it's generous tone;
For had she all my nature known;
Surveyed the springs of my esteem,
It's honest rise, it's generous tone;
My fame she then would ne'er have left
To envious enemies a prey;
Then, of her influence ne'er bereft,
The muse had triumphed in her sway.
To envious enemies a prey;
Then, of her influence ne'er bereft,
The muse had triumphed in her sway.
Nay, could she know, with what regret,
My verse, half-praise, half-censure, flows,
Her candour soon would pay the debt,
The noble debt that justice owes.
My verse, half-praise, half-censure, flows,
Her candour soon would pay the debt,
The noble debt that justice owes.
Friendship with poetry she'd prize,
Rejoin their pure, congenial flames;
And thus again she'd authorize
The rural union of our names.
Rejoin their pure, congenial flames;
And thus again she'd authorize
The rural union of our names.
275
Then happy might her poet live,
As long as he enjoyed his breath;
And what can future chances give;
What are our names beyond our death?
As long as he enjoyed his breath;
And what can future chances give;
What are our names beyond our death?
What then imports it, that they're stormed
By poisoned shafts against them hurled?
Imports it aught, that they're deformed,
Or on a tree, or in the world?
By poisoned shafts against them hurled?
Imports it aught, that they're deformed,
Or on a tree, or in the world?
But my late honours from the fair
Should the too rigid fates refuse,
The loss Fitzmaurice may repair;
He may restore a drooping muse.
Should the too rigid fates refuse,
The loss Fitzmaurice may repair;
He may restore a drooping muse.
When you enjoy your virtuous mind,
Your evening-walk, in Wickham's wood,
Along the grove that seems designed
By nature to receive the good;
Your evening-walk, in Wickham's wood,
Along the grove that seems designed
By nature to receive the good;
276
When Sol withdraws his blaze of light;
When stillness holds the dying breeze;
And when the silver orb of night
Hints meditation through the trees;
When stillness holds the dying breeze;
And when the silver orb of night
Hints meditation through the trees;
When your humane affections burn,
To man's assistance ever nigh;
Sometimes to my inscription turn,
And read it with a friendly eye.
To man's assistance ever nigh;
Sometimes to my inscription turn,
And read it with a friendly eye.
All the prophecy of the “patriarch of the peaceful vale” was completely fulfilled. The tribute that I here payed to Mr. Fitzmaurice, was the tribute of sincere gratitude. But in justice to my sincerity, and to the proper representation of his memory, he afterwards proved quite the reverse.
277
A PROLOGUE Spoken at Portsmouth, by MRS. HEARD,
In the Summer of the Year, 1775.
Hither, deputed by theatric friends,
Whose humble interest on your will depends,
I come;—and aided by the muse's wing,
Their cause I plead; my ardent thanks I bring.
Whose humble interest on your will depends,
I come;—and aided by the muse's wing,
Their cause I plead; my ardent thanks I bring.
Ill-fated actors! is there here a mind,
Enlarged by thought, by piety refined,
That pities not our complicated woes?
Or, say, can human bosoms be our foes?
Our life with enmity can man relate,
And make us themes of ridicule, or hate?
Enlarged by thought, by piety refined,
That pities not our complicated woes?
Or, say, can human bosoms be our foes?
Our life with enmity can man relate,
And make us themes of ridicule, or hate?
Fortune from us withholds her golden store,
She dooms us exiles, and she dooms us poor:
The judge appals us with tremendous awe;
Censure augments each fault, extends each flaw;
The world is not our friend, nor the world's law.
She dooms us exiles, and she dooms us poor:
278
Censure augments each fault, extends each flaw;
The world is not our friend, nor the world's law.
Yet, thanks to heaven! we make no vain appeal,
From those who persecute, to those who feel;
I see your souls; they live along my line:
In conquering eyes I see compassion shine.
The veteran soldier, and the dauntless tar
For me forget awhile the deeds of war;
Like Romans, generous, and like Romans, brave,
They're fierce to conquer; but they're warm to save.
From those who persecute, to those who feel;
I see your souls; they live along my line:
In conquering eyes I see compassion shine.
The veteran soldier, and the dauntless tar
For me forget awhile the deeds of war;
Like Romans, generous, and like Romans, brave,
They're fierce to conquer; but they're warm to save.
Why do I see my benefactors here?
Where no melodious Catley charms their ear;
No mighty Bobadill, no Shuter's wit
Sets in a roar, box, gallery, and pit;
For our great Lear's dread storm no thunders roll;
No Garrick agitates, and thrills the soul.
Where no melodious Catley charms their ear;
No mighty Bobadill, no Shuter's wit
Sets in a roar, box, gallery, and pit;
For our great Lear's dread storm no thunders roll;
No Garrick agitates, and thrills the soul.
You sit not here, the borrowed sigh to heave,
In the bard's luxury of woe to grieve;
Your's is a god-like pleasure;—to relieve.
In the bard's luxury of woe to grieve;
Your's is a god-like pleasure;—to relieve.
279
I kneel with reverence to superior powers;
Yours is the glorious part; the feeling ours;
Your merit to requite, our hearts aspire;
You nobly act; with transport we admire.
Yours is the glorious part; the feeling ours;
Your merit to requite, our hearts aspire;
You nobly act; with transport we admire.
Oh! cease not thus to act, at heaven's high call,
Whose eye paternal sees a sparrow fall;
Who gives his azure skies, his genial sun, to all.
Whose eye paternal sees a sparrow fall;
Who gives his azure skies, his genial sun, to all.
280
THE VOLUPTUARY.
A SONG. WRITTEN IN THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR 1770.
I care not, ye Gods, for the breath of a name;
I request only pleasure: give great men their fame.
I seek not through ages my glory to spread;
Let me live, while I live; and when buried, be dead.
I request only pleasure: give great men their fame.
I seek not through ages my glory to spread;
Let me live, while I live; and when buried, be dead.
May I find a retreat, where the sense of our isle,
And it's liberty flourish, with spring's constant smile;
Where the softness of climate makes pleasure of ease
Where fragrance, and health are conveyed in each breeze.‘
And it's liberty flourish, with spring's constant smile;
Where the softness of climate makes pleasure of ease
Where fragrance, and health are conveyed in each breeze.‘
Then in verdure embowered, will I often recline;
And thank for his foliage the God of the vine.
Yet let not life's current inactively roll;
Let my friend, nymph, and bottle, give play to my soul.
And thank for his foliage the God of the vine.
Yet let not life's current inactively roll;
281
May I sometimes read authours who wrote like Montaigne,
Who speak to the fancy, but plague not the brain;
And when a gay hour brings chimerical views
As I sport with my mistress, I'll sport with my muse.
Who speak to the fancy, but plague not the brain;
And when a gay hour brings chimerical views
As I sport with my mistress, I'll sport with my muse.
Thus the pale spectre, care, may I still chace away,
My night crowned with rapture, with pleasure, my day;
From the lumber of life, and it's knavery released;
The lye of the statesman, the gloom of the priest.
My night crowned with rapture, with pleasure, my day;
From the lumber of life, and it's knavery released;
The lye of the statesman, the gloom of the priest.
I care not ye gods, for the breath of a name;
I request only pleasure; give great men their fame;
Let me live to myself, while to others they shine;
Let theirs be the cloud; let the Juno be mine.
I request only pleasure; give great men their fame;
Let me live to myself, while to others they shine;
Let theirs be the cloud; let the Juno be mine.
282
TO THE AUTHOR OF A POEM, JUST PUBLISHED, entitled THE DYING NEGRO.
Accept, pathetic bard, these generous lays;
A poet will not spurn a poet's praise.
With gratitude I own the liberal aid
That saves me from oblivion's dreary shade.
Let me the same benevolence pursue,
And bring a genius forth to public view.
While we at once to fame in song aspire,
Though I be worsted, let me fan thy fire.
A poet will not spurn a poet's praise.
With gratitude I own the liberal aid
That saves me from oblivion's dreary shade.
Let me the same benevolence pursue,
And bring a genius forth to public view.
While we at once to fame in song aspire,
Though I be worsted, let me fan thy fire.
This offering of a feeling heart I make,
Both for thy verses, and thy virtue's sake;
For thy warm patronage of nature's plan—
I fear the rival, but I love the man.
Both for thy verses, and thy virtue's sake;
For thy warm patronage of nature's plan—
I fear the rival, but I love the man.
May all the curses which thy youth implores
With speedy ruin reach West Indian shores!
Oh! may the Negroes, with an iron rod,
Avenge the cause of Nature, and of God!
May they in happy combination rise,
Torture their doom, or liberty their prize;
Rush with resistless fury on their foes,
By one great effort expiate Afric's woes;
Eager each mark of slavery to efface,
Of their pale tyrants murder all the race!
With speedy ruin reach West Indian shores!
283
Avenge the cause of Nature, and of God!
May they in happy combination rise,
Torture their doom, or liberty their prize;
Rush with resistless fury on their foes,
By one great effort expiate Afric's woes;
Eager each mark of slavery to efface,
Of their pale tyrants murder all the race!
When thus I see chastised the worst of crimes,
Of all black deeds in old and modern times;
A vengeance worthy of the heavenly throne;
Then (nor before that period) will I own
That priests are not industrious to deceive;
Then will my mind be open to believe
That Christ, or Israel's awful king of kings,
Minutely regulates terrestrial things.
Of all black deeds in old and modern times;
A vengeance worthy of the heavenly throne;
Then (nor before that period) will I own
That priests are not industrious to deceive;
Then will my mind be open to believe
That Christ, or Israel's awful king of kings,
Minutely regulates terrestrial things.
And as the poet's warm expansive soul
Spreads it's benevolence from pole to pole,
Loves man, his brother, in Siberian snow,
Or where the spicy gales of Afric blow;
Then I'll enjoy the Negro's happy lot,
His purling rivulet, his peaceful cot;
Behold him, stretched beneath a fragrant shade,
Breathe fervid accents to a sable maid;
Or pass, in mirth, and festal song, the day,
Streams, groves, and hills responsive to his lay:
No northern ruffian near, importing woes,
No ruthless Christian to disturb repose!
Spreads it's benevolence from pole to pole,
Loves man, his brother, in Siberian snow,
Or where the spicy gales of Afric blow;
Then I'll enjoy the Negro's happy lot,
His purling rivulet, his peaceful cot;
284
Breathe fervid accents to a sable maid;
Or pass, in mirth, and festal song, the day,
Streams, groves, and hills responsive to his lay:
No northern ruffian near, importing woes,
No ruthless Christian to disturb repose!
But when will Time, with swift, indignant wing
When will he realize the bliss I sing?
Fancy still brings me some romantic theme,
Still mocks the poet with some pleasing dream.
Let Reason, then, her vagrant flight restrain;
So let her wish, as not to wish in vain;
Returning to the bard she's proud to praise,
Image the scenes that should adorn his days;
Those pleasures which to worth are sometimes given,
Or by blind chance, or providential Heaven.
When will he realize the bliss I sing?
Fancy still brings me some romantic theme,
Still mocks the poet with some pleasing dream.
Let Reason, then, her vagrant flight restrain;
So let her wish, as not to wish in vain;
Returning to the bard she's proud to praise,
Image the scenes that should adorn his days;
Those pleasures which to worth are sometimes given,
Or by blind chance, or providential Heaven.
Ever, thou ardent patron of mankind,
May the bard's happiness impress thy mind;
Our best enjoyments mayst thou ever prove,
In learned ease, in poetry, and love.
For surely love must in the bosom reign
Of one who sings in such a tender strain.
For most his powerful empire poets know,
The source from which their bliss, and torment flow,
Their sweetest pleasure, and their bitterest woe.
May the bard's happiness impress thy mind;
Our best enjoyments mayst thou ever prove,
In learned ease, in poetry, and love.
For surely love must in the bosom reign
Of one who sings in such a tender strain.
285
The source from which their bliss, and torment flow,
Their sweetest pleasure, and their bitterest woe.
But mayst thou ne'er admire a rigorous fair,
Doomed by her frowns a prey to pallid care;
Condemned intenser agony to feel
Than Damien suffered on his bed of steel.
Rather to thee may joyless seasons roll,
No inspiration beaming on thy soul:
May the coy Nine their influence never give;
In dead stagnation may'st thou seem to live;
May thy cold mind be destitute of song;
Mayst thou degenerate to the vulgar throng.
Doomed by her frowns a prey to pallid care;
Condemned intenser agony to feel
Than Damien suffered on his bed of steel.
Rather to thee may joyless seasons roll,
No inspiration beaming on thy soul:
May the coy Nine their influence never give;
In dead stagnation may'st thou seem to live;
May thy cold mind be destitute of song;
Mayst thou degenerate to the vulgar throng.
Ingenuous is thy bard; he'll not pretend
He only meant thy genius to befriend;
Partly the love of self this tribute drew;
He mourns his misery while he praises you.
His love too suffers Fortune's dire controul;
Thy hero's exit shook his tortured soul.
Of painful life inspired, the gloomy state;
He wished, but trembled to embrace his fate.
He only meant thy genius to befriend;
Partly the love of self this tribute drew;
He mourns his misery while he praises you.
His love too suffers Fortune's dire controul;
Thy hero's exit shook his tortured soul.
Of painful life inspired, the gloomy state;
He wished, but trembled to embrace his fate.
286
I live tormented by a cruel fair—
But Passion, hold—awhile reproach forbear.
Oft blundering chance defeats the generous will;
Confusion reigns; the world is chaos still.
She, haply, whom I've rashly deemed severe,
Now for her lover drops a tender tear;
Haply this verse is not addressed in vain
To her who felt, who loved my bolder strain:
And if it meets her more expressive eye,
The rosy lustre from her cheek may die;
Her heart may soften on each plaintive line,
And melt with sorrows only less than mine.
But Passion, hold—awhile reproach forbear.
Oft blundering chance defeats the generous will;
Confusion reigns; the world is chaos still.
She, haply, whom I've rashly deemed severe,
Now for her lover drops a tender tear;
Haply this verse is not addressed in vain
To her who felt, who loved my bolder strain:
And if it meets her more expressive eye,
The rosy lustre from her cheek may die;
Her heart may soften on each plaintive line,
And melt with sorrows only less than mine.
But should in her the sex's love of sway
Mark me to female tyranny a prey;
Should she adopt the trifling woman's part,
Amused her fancy, but unmoved her heart;
Should she return my passion with disdain,
Nor change my iron for a silken chain;
Then let me seek the refuge of the grave,
Scorn to exist, a despicable slave;
The bauble, life, with firm contempt resign—
The dying negro's brave despair be mine.
Mark me to female tyranny a prey;
Should she adopt the trifling woman's part,
Amused her fancy, but unmoved her heart;
Should she return my passion with disdain,
Nor change my iron for a silken chain;
Then let me seek the refuge of the grave,
Scorn to exist, a despicable slave;
The bauble, life, with firm contempt resign—
The dying negro's brave despair be mine.
Clitander. July 1, 1773.
287
TO HENRY COLLINGWOOD, SELBY, ESQ.
From these penates, which true friends, of late,
(Not one, a bishop) met to consecrate,
Through thy life's tenour may be given to flow,
Pleasures as durable as man can know!
May peace this ground salute with downy wing;
Round this gay spot may joy her chaplets fling:
Here may our souls, the rosy god of wine
Ne'er madden, or oppress, but oft refine;
Here oft may Cupid, from his purple plumes,
Shake all his passion with his rich perfumes!
(Not one, a bishop) met to consecrate,
Through thy life's tenour may be given to flow,
Pleasures as durable as man can know!
May peace this ground salute with downy wing;
Round this gay spot may joy her chaplets fling:
Here may our souls, the rosy god of wine
Ne'er madden, or oppress, but oft refine;
Here oft may Cupid, from his purple plumes,
Shake all his passion with his rich perfumes!
And may the souls of that convivial day
Be long recorded by my zealous lay!
Rundell, a favorite guest at Comus' court,
Who sense and humour blends with social sport;
And in your annals long unfaded shine,
The good, gay, friendly brothers from the Tyne;
Of steady worth one born the palm to share,
One, by bold sallies, to subdue the fair;
Dunbar, whose page gives force to Virtue's aim,
A scottish phenix, fired with Freedom's flame:
Field, who, by Fortune's caprice ne'er depressed,
Meets her worst frowns with a determined breast;
Whom in the spring of life the poet knew,
When Fancy still enjoyed some brilliant view;
Long ere Adversity's black storms arose;
Long ere my genius had procured me foes.
Be long recorded by my zealous lay!
Rundell, a favorite guest at Comus' court,
Who sense and humour blends with social sport;
And in your annals long unfaded shine,
The good, gay, friendly brothers from the Tyne;
Of steady worth one born the palm to share,
One, by bold sallies, to subdue the fair;
288
A scottish phenix, fired with Freedom's flame:
Field, who, by Fortune's caprice ne'er depressed,
Meets her worst frowns with a determined breast;
Whom in the spring of life the poet knew,
When Fancy still enjoyed some brilliant view;
Long ere Adversity's black storms arose;
Long ere my genius had procured me foes.
Oh! thou, whose ear with pleasure hears my strains,
Whose heart participates my joys, and pains!
Like a mere vain, and versifying elf,
Let me refer yet longer to myself:
In Twickenham's vicinage, oh! let me turn
An ardent look to Pope's funereal urn!
Shall I forget, on thy convivial day,
How inspiration dignified my way!—
The fane of Twickenham oped; thy poet found
The strong effects of consecrated ground:
Now warmth, now chillness through my vitals crept;
My heart's pulsation paused, and now it leapt.
The spot was shown me where his ashes lie;
I viewed the grave with reverential eye:
The aile seemed jealous for the mighty dead,
And bade his humble votary softly tread:
My mind's impressions met my listening ear;
And Echo said,—“The God of Pope is here.”
Ye bards, how great Heaven's intellectual plan
Was shown, in forming our stupendous man!
His image raised me far from earth; at once
I pitied Warton, and each impious dunce:
The church I left, with just ideas stored;
Admired the poet, but the God adored.
Whose heart participates my joys, and pains!
Like a mere vain, and versifying elf,
Let me refer yet longer to myself:
In Twickenham's vicinage, oh! let me turn
An ardent look to Pope's funereal urn!
Shall I forget, on thy convivial day,
How inspiration dignified my way!—
The fane of Twickenham oped; thy poet found
The strong effects of consecrated ground:
Now warmth, now chillness through my vitals crept;
My heart's pulsation paused, and now it leapt.
The spot was shown me where his ashes lie;
I viewed the grave with reverential eye:
289
And bade his humble votary softly tread:
My mind's impressions met my listening ear;
And Echo said,—“The God of Pope is here.”
Ye bards, how great Heaven's intellectual plan
Was shown, in forming our stupendous man!
His image raised me far from earth; at once
I pitied Warton, and each impious dunce:
The church I left, with just ideas stored;
Admired the poet, but the God adored.
290
A NEW HYMN, FOR EASTER SUNDAY, 1785;
COMPOSED FOR THE CHURCH OF LESBURY.
O thou! whose son, for mortal man,
Descended from the skies;
Pleased to perform his Father's plan,
To live, to die, to rise!
Descended from the skies;
Pleased to perform his Father's plan,
To live, to die, to rise!
Lead us in Virtue's sacred road,
From this auspicious day;
Teach us, the gifts which Christ bestowed,
Like Christians to repay.
From this auspicious day;
Teach us, the gifts which Christ bestowed,
Like Christians to repay.
From the pure terms of baptism's birth,
Ne'er let us idly roam:
Our spot of pilgrimage, this earth;
Heaven, our eternal home!
Ne'er let us idly roam:
Our spot of pilgrimage, this earth;
Heaven, our eternal home!
291
Death will our soul's best powers unfold,
And give them vigorous wing;
As winter's damps, and piercing cold,
Are followed by the spring.
And give them vigorous wing;
As winter's damps, and piercing cold,
Are followed by the spring.
292
TO LADIES KILLING WASPS WITH OIL.
Men, rough, and bold, for evil, or for good,
Oft stain their laurels with a brother's blood.
By slaughter, Philip's son was Persia's lord;
A million victims fell to Cæsar's sword.
Your gentle souls are in your myrtle seen;
It's blossoms candid, and benign it's green;
You urge your conquests with a tender mind;
In frowns, enchanting, and in ruin, kind;
Even noxious blood your nature cannot spill:
You cure with balsam, or with balsam kill.
Oft stain their laurels with a brother's blood.
By slaughter, Philip's son was Persia's lord;
A million victims fell to Cæsar's sword.
Your gentle souls are in your myrtle seen;
It's blossoms candid, and benign it's green;
You urge your conquests with a tender mind;
In frowns, enchanting, and in ruin, kind;
Even noxious blood your nature cannot spill:
You cure with balsam, or with balsam kill.
If, then, the real wasps, or wasps, in tongue,
Still sure to sting: for still with envy stung;
If not one human wasp, in word, or deed,
By your avenging hand will ever bleed;
If justice thus refined, to them steps forth,
Compassion ne'er will be denied to worth.
Oh! let the sex, first blessing from the sky,
By whom, at once, we wish to live, and die,
In empire merciful, from torture save
The lives devoted, of the good, and brave!
Let poets, too, resign their tuneful breath
To soft resentment, to an oily death!
Still sure to sting: for still with envy stung;
If not one human wasp, in word, or deed,
By your avenging hand will ever bleed;
If justice thus refined, to them steps forth,
Compassion ne'er will be denied to worth.
392
By whom, at once, we wish to live, and die,
In empire merciful, from torture save
The lives devoted, of the good, and brave!
Let poets, too, resign their tuneful breath
To soft resentment, to an oily death!
Ross, Wednesday, August 14th, 1793.
294
FRANCE;—ORLEANS;—LANSDOWNE.
In that cursed land, whence Virtue long had flown;
Where vice, gigantick vice, spurned either throne;
Murdered the monarch of it's fair domain;
Waged impious war with Heaven's eternal reign;—
With disposition faithful to her creed,
Blackened each hour with some atrocious deed;
The hoary priest was butchered in the fane;
Beauty's resistless pathos pled, in vain:
The fiend, consistent, who had steeled all hearts
Against their feeling for ingenuous arts,
By which, at once, we're strengthened, and refined,
By which blows all the beauty of the mind;
With a new tragic pall enforced her scene:
Obdurate, slew, a fair, a helpless queen;
(Yet genuine virtue, true religion thought
Her sufferings had atoned for every fault.)
Ingenious, next, her tenets to display;
To fix her civil, and her moral sway,
More poison still she breathes;—her subject elves
Lead to the church an emblem of themselves;
To a bright deity exalt a whore;
Their mimick Freedom, in the trull, adore;
Where Piety, and Christ, were throned, before.
Where vice, gigantick vice, spurned either throne;
Murdered the monarch of it's fair domain;
Waged impious war with Heaven's eternal reign;—
With disposition faithful to her creed,
Blackened each hour with some atrocious deed;
The hoary priest was butchered in the fane;
Beauty's resistless pathos pled, in vain:
The fiend, consistent, who had steeled all hearts
Against their feeling for ingenuous arts,
By which, at once, we're strengthened, and refined,
By which blows all the beauty of the mind;
With a new tragic pall enforced her scene:
Obdurate, slew, a fair, a helpless queen;
(Yet genuine virtue, true religion thought
Her sufferings had atoned for every fault.)
Ingenious, next, her tenets to display;
To fix her civil, and her moral sway,
295
Lead to the church an emblem of themselves;
To a bright deity exalt a whore;
Their mimick Freedom, in the trull, adore;
Where Piety, and Christ, were throned, before.
To sage Reflexion be my verse applied;—
'Midst these associates, Orleans lived, and died.
How high our virtuous energy may soar,
Reason obeyed; and Passion heard, no more!
How low we sink, when Vice, without controul,
Usurps her dark dominion of the soul!
So strongly, he corroborates my theme;
Such a dire outcast, in the bad extreme;
That even his own indignant faction hurled
Their prince, and culprit, to the nether world:
He was too great a monster for the times;
The Jacobins themselves abhorred his crimes.
'Midst these associates, Orleans lived, and died.
How high our virtuous energy may soar,
Reason obeyed; and Passion heard, no more!
How low we sink, when Vice, without controul,
Usurps her dark dominion of the soul!
So strongly, he corroborates my theme;
Such a dire outcast, in the bad extreme;
That even his own indignant faction hurled
Their prince, and culprit, to the nether world:
He was too great a monster for the times;
The Jacobins themselves abhorred his crimes.
Mortals, unsteady! mortals, never wise!
Prone to distrust the Sovereign of the skies!
Let not the chain, called by the thoughtless, Fate;—
The suffering poor; the proud insulting great;—
The state-assassins of the sage, and good,
Who stain their native soil with generous blood,—
Appal your faith; in every trying hour,
Await the mandates of Celestial Power!
Already, in the realms of France are given
Strong retributions of judicial Heaven.
A gleam, even now, predicts, with orient ray,
Of Peace, and order, the meridian day;
But ere that salutary day shall shine,
Diffusing equal laws, and acts benign,
The King of Kings will vindicate the slain;
And launch his bolt at the blaspheming train:
Apostate priests, too late, the truth aver;
An Orleans haunts, and summons, a Santerre;—
The golden sceptre beaming on the just,
Displays the Power, in whom mankind should trust;
Each murdering atheist feels his iron rod;
And thus each atheist clearly proves a God.
Prone to distrust the Sovereign of the skies!
Let not the chain, called by the thoughtless, Fate;—
The suffering poor; the proud insulting great;—
296
Who stain their native soil with generous blood,—
Appal your faith; in every trying hour,
Await the mandates of Celestial Power!
Already, in the realms of France are given
Strong retributions of judicial Heaven.
A gleam, even now, predicts, with orient ray,
Of Peace, and order, the meridian day;
But ere that salutary day shall shine,
Diffusing equal laws, and acts benign,
The King of Kings will vindicate the slain;
And launch his bolt at the blaspheming train:
Apostate priests, too late, the truth aver;
An Orleans haunts, and summons, a Santerre;—
The golden sceptre beaming on the just,
Displays the Power, in whom mankind should trust;
Each murdering atheist feels his iron rod;
And thus each atheist clearly proves a God.
Windsor Great Park, Nov. 23, 1793.
297
ON MISS WILLIS.
TO LAURA.
When Laura enforces her empire, with ease,
Her beauty to charm, and her talents to please;
When, diffusing love's gentle, yet mighty controul,
Her eye strikes each inmost recess of the soul;
In life's drama I still find my delicate part;
But I thank the hard steel that environs my heart;
The steel that has grown, by salabrious time,
Who corrects the wild ardour of love, and of rhyme:
(Oh! skreen me, old God! from the shafts of the fair;
And give to my verse a more dignified air!)
But should that unfortunate steel have one pore;
Her fire will pervade me, and life is no more:
For who would live longer in exquisite pains;
From new joys interdicted by rusty old chains!
Her beauty to charm, and her talents to please;
When, diffusing love's gentle, yet mighty controul,
Her eye strikes each inmost recess of the soul;
In life's drama I still find my delicate part;
But I thank the hard steel that environs my heart;
The steel that has grown, by salabrious time,
Who corrects the wild ardour of love, and of rhyme:
(Oh! skreen me, old God! from the shafts of the fair;
And give to my verse a more dignified air!)
But should that unfortunate steel have one pore;
Her fire will pervade me, and life is no more:
For who would live longer in exquisite pains;
From new joys interdicted by rusty old chains!
Then take the bright Stella; yes, take all her glow
(Sincerely my numbers for ever shall flow!)
Take her mirth (as enchanting as Venus's laugh!)
From whose sallies her lovers ebriety quaff;
Take her smiles that the sneer of old virgins defy;
Take the rose of her cheek, and the jet of her eye;
Take, in her, of enjoyment as luscious a store
As the prophet ere promised his soldiers before;—
If hate would relent, and but give me the other;
And make me in flesh as in spirit, thy brother:
Would give me concentered all feminine charms
(For my head is ambitious, ambitious, my arms!)
Give me graces external, but graces refined;
Where each attitude speaks, from the force of the mind;
Where sense in each word, common sense must descry;
Where an oracle guides, in each glance of her eye:
Where virtue corrects lighter passion's alarms;
All Pallas's wisdom, with Venus's charms.
(Sincerely my numbers for ever shall flow!)
Take her mirth (as enchanting as Venus's laugh!)
From whose sallies her lovers ebriety quaff;
298
Take the rose of her cheek, and the jet of her eye;
Take, in her, of enjoyment as luscious a store
As the prophet ere promised his soldiers before;—
If hate would relent, and but give me the other;
And make me in flesh as in spirit, thy brother:
Would give me concentered all feminine charms
(For my head is ambitious, ambitious, my arms!)
Give me graces external, but graces refined;
Where each attitude speaks, from the force of the mind;
Where sense in each word, common sense must descry;
Where an oracle guides, in each glance of her eye:
Where virtue corrects lighter passion's alarms;
All Pallas's wisdom, with Venus's charms.
'Midst the world's motley freaks, which all opposites blend,
I should know what the power of Olympus intend,
With regard to myself:—were I perfectly free;
Young, handsome, and wealthy, and worthy of thee!
But thy soul is exalted; it flows in a strain
Too good to be proud, and too great to be vain;
Then, superiour to scarlet, to nonsense, and youth;
It frowns not on learning; on talents; on truth:
It, surely, was formed, human ills to redress;
Whom fortune had cursed, with it's favours to bless;
To soften the woes of life's jacobine scene;
Not to spurn my grey hairs, if my laurels are green.
I should know what the power of Olympus intend,
With regard to myself:—were I perfectly free;
Young, handsome, and wealthy, and worthy of thee!
But thy soul is exalted; it flows in a strain
Too good to be proud, and too great to be vain;
299
It frowns not on learning; on talents; on truth:
It, surely, was formed, human ills to redress;
Whom fortune had cursed, with it's favours to bless;
To soften the woes of life's jacobine scene;
Not to spurn my grey hairs, if my laurels are green.
Monmouth, Nov. 16th, 1704.
300
VERSES TO MISS DALTON,
ON HER APPROACHING BIRTH-DAY.
Since time, still stealing on, with footstep near
Brings the commencement of thy natal year;
Accept these lines, void of poetick art;
The simple offering of an honest heart.
Brings the commencement of thy natal year;
Accept these lines, void of poetick art;
The simple offering of an honest heart.
May thy progressive years be crowned with health;
I breathe no prayer for title, or for wealth;
From wealth, and title, oft, keen misery springs;
Refute me, if you can, ye reigning kings!
The shade of Louis meets the poet's eye;
And ratifies my doctrine with a sigh:
Owns that he envied his poor gallic swains:
No blood of Henry rolling through their veins.
I breathe no prayer for title, or for wealth;
From wealth, and title, oft, keen misery springs;
Refute me, if you can, ye reigning kings!
The shade of Louis meets the poet's eye;
And ratifies my doctrine with a sigh:
Owns that he envied his poor gallic swains:
No blood of Henry rolling through their veins.
May thy external form, too apt to share
The first attention of the thoughtless fair,
Have all thy proper, secondary care.
But think what pleasures heaven for thee designed;
Think of thy reasoning, thy immortal mind;
Still raise that noble principle from earth;
And still anticipate it's second birth;
When delegates from heaven shall speed it's way
To the bright regions of eternal day.
Hence, teach it, in it's mortal state, to soar;
The right, the good, the beauteous to explore;
To tread the path which the great sages trod;
The path which leads, through virtue, up, to God!
The first attention of the thoughtless fair,
Have all thy proper, secondary care.
But think what pleasures heaven for thee designed;
Think of thy reasoning, thy immortal mind;
301
And still anticipate it's second birth;
When delegates from heaven shall speed it's way
To the bright regions of eternal day.
Hence, teach it, in it's mortal state, to soar;
The right, the good, the beauteous to explore;
To tread the path which the great sages trod;
The path which leads, through virtue, up, to God!
Ne'er may the light amusements of our age
Divert thy leisure from instruction's page:
For vital spirit, to the dead apply;
They teach us how to live, and how to die;
The world unnerves us; but these friends controul,
Refine, exalt, and fortify the soul;
By them, we firmly act our part assigned;
Impassive to the caprice of mankind.
Divert thy leisure from instruction's page:
For vital spirit, to the dead apply;
They teach us how to live, and how to die;
The world unnerves us; but these friends controul,
Refine, exalt, and fortify the soul;
By them, we firmly act our part assigned;
Impassive to the caprice of mankind.
Oh! mayst thou through the dangerous sea of life,
With winds, and waves, maintain a conquering strife!
Or, may thy bark before fair breezes fly,
The coast elysian blooming in thine eye!
Let Johnson's ethicks be thy card, to sail;
Let Pope's fine passion give that card a gale;
Still may thy choice of books true taste express;
And scorn the female refuse of the Press.
Sometimes relaxed, let fancy's playful wings
Sport with gay trifles as inferiour things.
With winds, and waves, maintain a conquering strife!
Or, may thy bark before fair breezes fly,
The coast elysian blooming in thine eye!
Let Johnson's ethicks be thy card, to sail;
Let Pope's fine passion give that card a gale;
302
And scorn the female refuse of the Press.
Sometimes relaxed, let fancy's playful wings
Sport with gay trifles as inferiour things.
Important errour ever mayst thou shun;
Nor e'er mistake a meteor for the sun;
The sun, with generous, with impelling force,
Our nature cheers, and animates our course;
The meteor shoots a momentary ray;
Shrinks, dies, and mocks us, with delusive day.
Nor e'er mistake a meteor for the sun;
The sun, with generous, with impelling force,
Our nature cheers, and animates our course;
The meteor shoots a momentary ray;
Shrinks, dies, and mocks us, with delusive day.
Thus, reason prompting, tempering thy desires,
Shall yield the virtue's fixed, and genial fires;
Their lustre ne'er exchanged for idle show;
In youth, our folly; and in age, our woe;
Thus, ne'er reduced by tinsel, wilt thou blend
The low, pert coxcomb with the zealous friend.
Shall yield the virtue's fixed, and genial fires;
Their lustre ne'er exchanged for idle show;
In youth, our folly; and in age, our woe;
Thus, ne'er reduced by tinsel, wilt thou blend
The low, pert coxcomb with the zealous friend.
Monmouth, Dec. 29, 1794.
303
AN EPITAPH.
Here lies of Sanby the terrestrial part;
The fire ethereal which inspired his heart,
Was unallayed with disingenuous art.
The fire ethereal which inspired his heart,
Was unallayed with disingenuous art.
Yet liberal art adorned his active mind;
His love, not to his family confined,
Flamed for his friends; and felt for human kind.
His love, not to his family confined,
Flamed for his friends; and felt for human kind.
His humble soul, now raised on ardent wings,
From the poor princely spot where Stockdale sings,
Meets (with no Lord between) the king of kings.
From the poor princely spot where Stockdale sings,
Meets (with no Lord between) the king of kings.
Great Windsor-Park, October 4th, 1796.
304
VERSES ON THE DEATH OF THE EMPRESS OF RUSSIA.
Quiet, at length, imperial Catharine lies:
At length!—mysterious goodness of the skies!
With lust, and blood, polluted was her reign;
Yet old she died; expiring without pain!
But let strong moral truth exalt my theme;
And every doubt of righteous Heaven redeem.
If Body 'scapes;—there is a pain of soul;
Not wealth, nor grandeur can it's pangs controul.
The worthy man, to dreadful exile sent,
By her, whose nature knew not to relent;
Compared with her, enjoyed a blissful doom;
His powerful virtue bade Siberia bloom.
For long before this fiend resigned her breath,
She agonized whene'er she thought of death;
Forbade her slaves the mournful rites to pay,
To friends deceased, beneath the solar ray:
Funerals, at Petersburgh, were veiled by night;
Lest majesty should meet the killing sight.
Thus royal criminals all bounds defy;
And thus they make their hell, before they die.
At length!—mysterious goodness of the skies!
With lust, and blood, polluted was her reign;
Yet old she died; expiring without pain!
But let strong moral truth exalt my theme;
And every doubt of righteous Heaven redeem.
If Body 'scapes;—there is a pain of soul;
Not wealth, nor grandeur can it's pangs controul.
The worthy man, to dreadful exile sent,
By her, whose nature knew not to relent;
Compared with her, enjoyed a blissful doom;
His powerful virtue bade Siberia bloom.
For long before this fiend resigned her breath,
She agonized whene'er she thought of death;
Forbade her slaves the mournful rites to pay,
To friends deceased, beneath the solar ray:
Funerals, at Petersburgh, were veiled by night;
Lest majesty should meet the killing sight.
305
And thus they make their hell, before they die.
But Europe has it's kings exempt from thought;
Who feel no misery by their madness wrought;
Nimrods who laugh, and stun us with a joke;
While death on millions drives the fatal stroke;
While from fair empires freedom far is fled;
Oppressed, their subjects; and their glory, dead;
Their poor, 'midst luxury, wanting daily bread:
While hard unfeeling instruments of state,
With iron bosoms aggravate their fate.
Know such—on tyrants, in the future world,
The last excess of penal fire is hurled:
Know such—if not insensible to fame;
Some great historian all his rights will claim;
Time to his pen shall full expression give;
Than Belsham's bolder, while his heroes live.
Some godlike poet will his ardour join;
Paint sceptered culprits in his glowing line:
To late posterity the strain shall flow;
And deathless verse avenge a nation's woe.
Bishop's Gate; by Windsor Great Park.
Who feel no misery by their madness wrought;
Nimrods who laugh, and stun us with a joke;
While death on millions drives the fatal stroke;
While from fair empires freedom far is fled;
Oppressed, their subjects; and their glory, dead;
Their poor, 'midst luxury, wanting daily bread:
While hard unfeeling instruments of state,
With iron bosoms aggravate their fate.
Know such—on tyrants, in the future world,
The last excess of penal fire is hurled:
Know such—if not insensible to fame;
Some great historian all his rights will claim;
Time to his pen shall full expression give;
Than Belsham's bolder, while his heroes live.
Some godlike poet will his ardour join;
Paint sceptered culprits in his glowing line:
To late posterity the strain shall flow;
And deathless verse avenge a nation's woe.
Bishop's Gate; by Windsor Great Park.
Thursday, Dec. 29, 1796.
306
ON MY GOING TO LIVE AT WINDSOR.
Hail, sacred Windsor! hallowed are thy shades
By poets, and their nine inspiring maids!
Though now I seek, in thee, my last repose,
From many generous toils, and many woes;
Yet let me, sometimes, urge my favourite course;
To Fancy give her scope, and splendid force;
With our great bards to hold a noble strife,
Be my ambition, on the verge of life:
For but a few remaining years have I;
“Just time to look about me, and to die.”
By poets, and their nine inspiring maids!
Though now I seek, in thee, my last repose,
From many generous toils, and many woes;
Yet let me, sometimes, urge my favourite course;
To Fancy give her scope, and splendid force;
With our great bards to hold a noble strife,
Be my ambition, on the verge of life:
For but a few remaining years have I;
“Just time to look about me, and to die.”
So sung harmonious Pope; and as he sung,
His Cooper's-Hill more fragrant odours flung:
His Thames's banks with heavenly musick rung.
Checked was the current of the silver stream,
While it's god listened to the tuneful theme.
His Cooper's-Hill more fragrant odours flung:
His Thames's banks with heavenly musick rung.
Checked was the current of the silver stream,
While it's god listened to the tuneful theme.
307
Binfield, and Twickenham, hail! at sober eve,
Oft Abelard, and Eloisa leave
Their aromatick amaranthine grove;
Their bliss elysian, through thy walks to rove:
There softly sighs that other hapless dame;
And soothes her passion where it sprung to fame:
Aërial harps repeat the plaintive sound;
And Love, and Genius consecrate the ground.
Oft Abelard, and Eloisa leave
Their aromatick amaranthine grove;
Their bliss elysian, through thy walks to rove:
There softly sighs that other hapless dame;
And soothes her passion where it sprung to fame:
Aërial harps repeat the plaintive sound;
And Love, and Genius consecrate the ground.
Binfield, thy name with varied rapture warms,
Blest in a poet; blest in female charms!
There Buckeridge reads what Pope divinely wrote;
Glows as she reads, and loses not a thought:
Her feeling soul the varied notes inspire
With Freedom's bold, or Love's more gentle fire.
Blest in a poet; blest in female charms!
There Buckeridge reads what Pope divinely wrote;
Glows as she reads, and loses not a thought:
Her feeling soul the varied notes inspire
With Freedom's bold, or Love's more gentle fire.
Perusing, thus, my mind's distinguished fate,
The little pomp of the factitious great;
Still with unconquered spirit let me view,
To independence, and the muses, true.
Oh! may these objects all my thoughts refine;
Impel my conduct, and inspire my line!
Ennoble, and enlarge my moral plan;
Make me the friend, but not the slave of man;
Teach me respect even for my king to feel,
Only as he promotes the public weal;
Proudly to spurn all homage to a lord;
Unless his title, and his deeds accord.
The little pomp of the factitious great;
Still with unconquered spirit let me view,
To independence, and the muses, true.
308
Impel my conduct, and inspire my line!
Ennoble, and enlarge my moral plan;
Make me the friend, but not the slave of man;
Teach me respect even for my king to feel,
Only as he promotes the public weal;
Proudly to spurn all homage to a lord;
Unless his title, and his deeds accord.
But let the poor; the friendless; the distressed;
Scorned by the rich; avoided by the rest;
Plead with decisive pathos, in my breast.
When lords of millions not a mite bestow,
Even I may mitigate a brother's woe.
May I, when languid in the negro's cause,
On English ground, in vain imploring laws!
Be torne by ruffians from my native shore,
Like him; and destined ne'er to view it more:
Possess, while eager to resign my breath,
But a mere coffin's room, before my death!
Scorned by the rich; avoided by the rest;
Plead with decisive pathos, in my breast.
When lords of millions not a mite bestow,
Even I may mitigate a brother's woe.
May I, when languid in the negro's cause,
On English ground, in vain imploring laws!
Be torne by ruffians from my native shore,
Like him; and destined ne'er to view it more:
Possess, while eager to resign my breath,
But a mere coffin's room, before my death!
Thus may the muse her noblest powers impart;
Instruct my mind, and purify my heart;
Tutored by her, without a painful sigh,
With the soul's setting sun-shine may I die;
Tread the dark path, with vivid hope in God,
Which Rome's Pompilius, and her Ancus trod!
Instruct my mind, and purify my heart;
309
With the soul's setting sun-shine may I die;
Tread the dark path, with vivid hope in God,
Which Rome's Pompilius, and her Ancus trod!
310
VERSES on THE FIRE AT CLIFDEN.
While near Arcadian Wye's meandering stream,
Whose objects might excite the noblest theme,
My fallow mind uncultivated lay;
And dozed, with other drones, it's hours away;
Of lofty Clifden's fall the dread report
(Majestick, relative to Taplow-court!)
Where Thames through ground more consecrated flows,
Rouzed the dull slumberer from his Welsh repose.
Whose objects might excite the noblest theme,
My fallow mind uncultivated lay;
And dozed, with other drones, it's hours away;
Of lofty Clifden's fall the dread report
(Majestick, relative to Taplow-court!)
Where Thames through ground more consecrated flows,
Rouzed the dull slumberer from his Welsh repose.
Thou fiery god! could no soft thoughts asswage
The mad invasion of thy wanton rage?
Oh! had kind Venus, at the fatal hour,
When Clifden bowed to thy destructive power,
Armed with the cestus of almighty love,
Which, Heaven can witness, quelled the thundering Jove!—
Oh! had she, flushed with all her beauty, pressed
The sable Vulcan to her snowy breast;
Then might the poet's quick, and fertile eye,
Which, in a moment, peoples all the sky;
Mark, that the Cyprian queen, with moral grace
Improved her air, and dignified her face;
From savage freaks allured her spouse, to prove
The sacred pleasures of connubial love;
Watched o'er the welfare of the virtuous fair;
Clifden, and it's best ornament, her care.
The mad invasion of thy wanton rage?
Oh! had kind Venus, at the fatal hour,
When Clifden bowed to thy destructive power,
Armed with the cestus of almighty love,
Which, Heaven can witness, quelled the thundering Jove!—
311
The sable Vulcan to her snowy breast;
Then might the poet's quick, and fertile eye,
Which, in a moment, peoples all the sky;
Mark, that the Cyprian queen, with moral grace
Improved her air, and dignified her face;
From savage freaks allured her spouse, to prove
The sacred pleasures of connubial love;
Watched o'er the welfare of the virtuous fair;
Clifden, and it's best ornament, her care.
Old Nestor-like, I vainly wish to see
The days, O Inchiquin! I passed with thee!
When, from thy social, and thy generous heart,
I felt a noble, and a friendly part;
When rural scenes together we pursued;
And all the charms of Bucks, and Berkshire viewed;
Stopped, in our course, at Clifden's hallowed shades;
Well known to Phœbus, and the tuneful maids;
And our attention while the dome engaged,
Pleased with the glorious wars, which, once, she waged,
Wars, by art's emulative genius wrought—
The times, again, we realized, in thought,
“When Anne commanded, and when Marlborough fought.”
To Taplow's roof convivial, we returned;
Again our hearts with honest ardour burned;
Homage, again, we payed to Anna's reign;
As great in bards, as in the martial train;—
But lightly skimmed o'er Addison's campaign.
The genial claret brightened the soul's flow;
It burnished every image with it's glow!
The days, O Inchiquin! I passed with thee!
When, from thy social, and thy generous heart,
I felt a noble, and a friendly part;
When rural scenes together we pursued;
And all the charms of Bucks, and Berkshire viewed;
Stopped, in our course, at Clifden's hallowed shades;
Well known to Phœbus, and the tuneful maids;
And our attention while the dome engaged,
Pleased with the glorious wars, which, once, she waged,
Wars, by art's emulative genius wrought—
The times, again, we realized, in thought,
“When Anne commanded, and when Marlborough fought.”
312
Again our hearts with honest ardour burned;
Homage, again, we payed to Anna's reign;
As great in bards, as in the martial train;—
But lightly skimmed o'er Addison's campaign.
The genial claret brightened the soul's flow;
It burnished every image with it's glow!
Old as I am, I love to entertain
In Fancy's region, the romantick strain:
Then, with my youthful constitution's powers,
To bear the jolly god's inspiring hours;
Might my experience, dearly bought, controul,
With prudent sway, the sallies of the soul!
Thus, I should feel, at one propitious time,
Health, strength, and reason, in their manly prime:
Then, I should write; and then, converse, at ease;
Though borne on Fancy's aromatick breeze.
In Fancy's region, the romantick strain:
Then, with my youthful constitution's powers,
To bear the jolly god's inspiring hours;
Might my experience, dearly bought, controul,
With prudent sway, the sallies of the soul!
Thus, I should feel, at one propitious time,
Health, strength, and reason, in their manly prime:
Then, I should write; and then, converse, at ease;
Though borne on Fancy's aromatick breeze.
Thou pagan god!—to fire that Christian ground,
Where Cowley's lyre diffused her silver sound!
Where Denham, to the guardians of the wood;
To Pan, Sylvanus, and the neighbouring flood,
With rapture passed his tributary strain;
Grand as the Thames, when he salutes the main.—
Near Binfield, too; where all the wondering nine
New musick heard, in Pope's preluding line;
And still they owned, with grateful transport fired,
That he improved the notes which they inspired!
Where Cowley's lyre diffused her silver sound!
Where Denham, to the guardians of the wood;
To Pan, Sylvanus, and the neighbouring flood,
With rapture passed his tributary strain;
Grand as the Thames, when he salutes the main.—
313
New musick heard, in Pope's preluding line;
And still they owned, with grateful transport fired,
That he improved the notes which they inspired!
The good, the great, the fair, the princely guest,
Have all that celebrated mansion blessed;
Yet, by respect for them, thy rage was not repressed.
There Thomson's blooming, and creative mind,
On every season, as it rose, refined:
There, Lyttelton, the tender friend of man,
Enriched the poet's, and the patriot's plan.
There Frederick felt what soothes when grandeur fails;
And verse, and virtue, charmed a Prince of Wales.
Have all that celebrated mansion blessed;
Yet, by respect for them, thy rage was not repressed.
There Thomson's blooming, and creative mind,
On every season, as it rose, refined:
There, Lyttelton, the tender friend of man,
Enriched the poet's, and the patriot's plan.
There Frederick felt what soothes when grandeur fails;
And verse, and virtue, charmed a Prince of Wales.
Methinks, some pupil of the atheist's creed;
Some young French monster, who hath read Candide—
Some superficial scholar of Voltaire;
From Clifden's fire takes an important air;—
Asks me, why Vulcan's all-devouring flames
Made no distinction 'twixt two noble dames;
Asks me, why Heaven applies not acts of grace,
With more precision to the human race;
Why Clifden's pomp dissolved in fervid air,
Why Orkney, not, when Shrewsbury was there?
Some young French monster, who hath read Candide—
Some superficial scholar of Voltaire;
From Clifden's fire takes an important air;—
Asks me, why Vulcan's all-devouring flames
Made no distinction 'twixt two noble dames;
Asks me, why Heaven applies not acts of grace,
With more precision to the human race;
314
Why Orkney, not, when Shrewsbury was there?
Thou fool! like every other impious elf,
Thou forgest weapons, to transfix thyself!
Clifden was burned, because the Eternal Mind
A nobler mansion for the good designed;
Because this world is but a rugged road,
O'er which we travel to the blest abode;—
A state, when this inferiour path is trod,
Varied, and boundless, as the works of God!
A state, which Fortune's fools combine to prove;—
The golden chain of universal love,
Blind to their moral consequence, they hold;—
The chain, which Clarke, and Newton first unfold;
Pleased with its' links, depending from on high;
To draw mistaken mortals to the sky!
Thou forgest weapons, to transfix thyself!
Clifden was burned, because the Eternal Mind
A nobler mansion for the good designed;
Because this world is but a rugged road,
O'er which we travel to the blest abode;—
A state, when this inferiour path is trod,
Varied, and boundless, as the works of God!
A state, which Fortune's fools combine to prove;—
The golden chain of universal love,
Blind to their moral consequence, they hold;—
The chain, which Clarke, and Newton first unfold;
Pleased with its' links, depending from on high;
To draw mistaken mortals to the sky!
Suffering, and patient virtue's quiet course,
Yet gives our argument resistless force;
She points distinctly, to a milder clime,
Fruitful of joys, that mock the waste of time.
Even Vice's triumphs, in her impious dream,
Evince the goodness of the Power Supreme;
They indicate the soul's perpetual youth;
And fix it's pleasures on the base of truth.
Yet gives our argument resistless force;
She points distinctly, to a milder clime,
Fruitful of joys, that mock the waste of time.
315
Evince the goodness of the Power Supreme;
They indicate the soul's perpetual youth;
And fix it's pleasures on the base of truth.
Monmouth, Wednesday, January 27th, 1796.
316
AN ODE, ON LORD NELSON'S VICTORY over THE DANES.
1801.
Again thou inspirest!—I fly to my pen;
Thy deeds to emblazon, thou bravest of men!
Nor should Nelson a muse independent disdain;
When her poet is proud to make one of thy train:
For pervious to fancy all stations are found;
She rejoiced at the Nile; she exults at the Sound.
Thy deeds to emblazon, thou bravest of men!
Nor should Nelson a muse independent disdain;
When her poet is proud to make one of thy train:
For pervious to fancy all stations are found;
She rejoiced at the Nile; she exults at the Sound.
Thus in Rome to their height, arts, and victories grew;
Still the Nine with her eagles triumphantly flew.
Of war, from the south to the north, spread the fire;
And Horace rekindled it's flame, on his lyre.
But from Calpe to Ganges, by Rome were there found
Such laurels as bloom on the Nile, and the Sound?
Still the Nine with her eagles triumphantly flew.
317
And Horace rekindled it's flame, on his lyre.
But from Calpe to Ganges, by Rome were there found
Such laurels as bloom on the Nile, and the Sound?
Ye croakers, at length, drop your dissonant voice;
Of our worthies employed rail no more at the choice:
Yet your mere opposition but rivets their claim;
It fixes, immortal, each luminous name.
Ever near the bright substance of merit is found
Of dark envy the shade, from the Nile to the Sound.
Of our worthies employed rail no more at the choice:
Yet your mere opposition but rivets their claim;
It fixes, immortal, each luminous name.
Ever near the bright substance of merit is found
Of dark envy the shade, from the Nile to the Sound.
Hereafter, your malice; your impotent rage,
Shall our history transmit, in her durable page;
Contrasted with patriots, the factious unfold,
As captives, and slaves graced the triumphs of old:
For since first the sun rose, from the Nile to the Sound,
Where a hero sprung up, a Thersites was found.
Shall our history transmit, in her durable page;
Contrasted with patriots, the factious unfold,
As captives, and slaves graced the triumphs of old:
For since first the sun rose, from the Nile to the Sound,
Where a hero sprung up, a Thersites was found.
Unequalled exploits will with ease be believed;
When a Pitt formed the plan which a Nelson atchieved.
Blest isle! for thy strength; for thy fame are combined,
The brave pulse of the heart; the vast powers of the mind!
For say, can such valour; such talents be found,
If glory we trace from the Nile to the Sound!
When a Pitt formed the plan which a Nelson atchieved.
318
The brave pulse of the heart; the vast powers of the mind!
For say, can such valour; such talents be found,
If glory we trace from the Nile to the Sound!
319
ON THE SECOND MEMORABLE VICTORY, AT ABOUKIR.
1801.
What favoured bard can sing as Britons fight!
Some glorious Milton on the theme should write.
Yet, for the tribute of ingenuous praise,
True criticks will approve imperfect lays.
Some glorious Milton on the theme should write.
Yet, for the tribute of ingenuous praise,
True criticks will approve imperfect lays.
Parent of wealth, and arts! all-fruitful Nile!
Doomed, in late years, on England's fame to smile;
Doomed to exalt our celebrated isle;
And, say, can all thy boasted records claim
Aught more illustrious than the British name?
What though thy pyramids, immensely high,
From their vast bases rise, and threat the sky;
What, in thy annals, though Sesostris reigns,
The mighty Lord of Asia's distant plains;—
What, though of science Egypt was the tree;
And various learning ramified from thee!
No greater prodigy thy history shows
Than Britons moving to their Gallick foes.
The tar; the soldier, every danger braves;
Alike intrepid on the land, and waves.
In rows terrifick, from the hostile shore,
Pregnant with fate, in vain the cannons roar;
Ardent each hero sails, or marches on,
Anticipating death, or laurels won;
This maxim painted on his mental eye;
“The brave live honoured, and lamented die.”
The annoying mountain; the French army finds
Heights far superior in our English minds.
Doomed, in late years, on England's fame to smile;
Doomed to exalt our celebrated isle;
And, say, can all thy boasted records claim
Aught more illustrious than the British name?
What though thy pyramids, immensely high,
From their vast bases rise, and threat the sky;
320
The mighty Lord of Asia's distant plains;—
What, though of science Egypt was the tree;
And various learning ramified from thee!
No greater prodigy thy history shows
Than Britons moving to their Gallick foes.
The tar; the soldier, every danger braves;
Alike intrepid on the land, and waves.
In rows terrifick, from the hostile shore,
Pregnant with fate, in vain the cannons roar;
Ardent each hero sails, or marches on,
Anticipating death, or laurels won;
This maxim painted on his mental eye;
“The brave live honoured, and lamented die.”
The annoying mountain; the French army finds
Heights far superior in our English minds.
But when will Peace resume her golden reign!
When shall we cease to mourn our heroes slain;
Fancy reposing on Arcadia's plain!
When shall we cease to mourn our heroes slain;
Fancy reposing on Arcadia's plain!
The stream of Providence unerring flows;
All glory still it moderates with woes;
They by celestial wisdom are applied,
To temper human joy, and human pride.
Thus, when the favourite theme of British praise
Caught a new splendour in our Nelson's days;
When England's military standard bore
Peculiar honours not acquired before;
The king of terrours, in the martial fray,
Marked with more dire events the prosperous day;
Heaven's awful agent, for his ruthless dart,
Was watchful to select some generous heart:
And to refine on every dreadful aim;
To balance fortune, and to balance fame;
That grief most pungent might embalm the dead,
The brave, the virtuous Abercromby bled!
All glory still it moderates with woes;
321
To temper human joy, and human pride.
Thus, when the favourite theme of British praise
Caught a new splendour in our Nelson's days;
When England's military standard bore
Peculiar honours not acquired before;
The king of terrours, in the martial fray,
Marked with more dire events the prosperous day;
Heaven's awful agent, for his ruthless dart,
Was watchful to select some generous heart:
And to refine on every dreadful aim;
To balance fortune, and to balance fame;
That grief most pungent might embalm the dead,
The brave, the virtuous Abercromby bled!
Lesbury, near Alnwick, Northumberland, May 23d, 1801.
322
AN EPITAPH ON A VERY PRETTY AND MOST AMIABLE CAT.
[_]
They who are disposed to ridicule the love, and attention which every good heart will give to kind, faithful, and grateful animals, must be unacquainted with the nature, and habits of those animals, when they are treated as it is our duty to treat them: and they must likewise ascribe to the prevailing human character infinitely more merit, and dignity, than it possesses. That there are many monsters of inhumanity amongst mankind, is demonstrated by the various, and horrible barbarities with which those very useful, and affectionate animals (if we deserve their affection) are tormented, and destroyed, which are of the species of the little creature, the loss of whose engaging qualities I deeply regret.
Hath robbed me of a dear, though humble friend.
323
Learn worth from her, ye proud; ye rich; ye wise!
Ingratitude grow generous, if you can;
And let the animal improve the man.
Pride, to corruption destined from it's birth,
It's pomp expired, like her, must rot in earth:
Her wants, that never strayed from nature's rules,
Reproved the mental fevers of our fools;
She ne'er was tortured with the miser's pain;
Nor with the last resources of the vain.
Her mind, not philosophically great,
Had all the knowledge proper for her state;
Ne'er wished through metaphysick wilds to roam;
But kept at common sense's wiser home.
To kind, and constant friends, her love sincere
Demands the tribute of a pious tear;
Their tender words well to her heart were known;
Which answered in a soft, pathetick tone;
Ingratitude was never her disgrace;
She left that stigma to the human race.
Perhaps, to her, in blest elysian fields,
Some little bower it's fragrant foliage yields;
Perhaps, where generous dogs, and horses stray,
She basks, and sports in everlasting day;
324
Receives her tender voice through purer air.
Lie light this turf on gentle TIBSY's head;
His genial influence, here, let zephyr shed;
Let summer's warmth, succeeding vernal showers,
Adorn her grave with aromatick flowers!
Lesbury, Saturday, April 16th, 1803.
325
VERSES ON THE ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE TRADE.
While iron hearts of the commercial race,
Dead to the feelings of each moral grace,
To Afric's woes refuse the just relief;
Fell agents of their pandemonian chief;
Who fires his advocates; his chosen band;
Though legislators to a Christian land:
See heaven-born genius noble thoughts display!
Illumined with it's GOD'S paternal ray!
His favourite sons, harmonious with His mind;
Destined to govern, and protect mankind;
The cause of freedom ardently maintain;
Crush, o'er the Atlantic, Satan's ruthless reign;
The truly great are ever the humane.
Dead to the feelings of each moral grace,
To Afric's woes refuse the just relief;
Fell agents of their pandemonian chief;
Who fires his advocates; his chosen band;
Though legislators to a Christian land:
See heaven-born genius noble thoughts display!
Illumined with it's GOD'S paternal ray!
His favourite sons, harmonious with His mind;
Destined to govern, and protect mankind;
The cause of freedom ardently maintain;
Crush, o'er the Atlantic, Satan's ruthless reign;
The truly great are ever the humane.
326
Born to be free, brave children of the sun!
White cruelty, at length, it's course hath run.
For you I oft have poured the plaintive strain;
When oft I felt, for you, transmitted pain.
“Let Afric, and her hundred thrones rejoice!”
Let Christians join their warm applauding voice!
If selfish, vulgar tyrants urge their plan;
The slow, deliberate murderers of man;
Debase GOD'S image in the human soul;
And sink it with their dark, and dire controul;
Ethereal minds diffuse their cheering light,
And quell the demons of eternal night;
Like Sol, to bless the universe, they shine;
Bright emanations of the POWER DIVINE!
White cruelty, at length, it's course hath run.
For you I oft have poured the plaintive strain;
When oft I felt, for you, transmitted pain.
“Let Afric, and her hundred thrones rejoice!”
Let Christians join their warm applauding voice!
If selfish, vulgar tyrants urge their plan;
The slow, deliberate murderers of man;
Debase GOD'S image in the human soul;
And sink it with their dark, and dire controul;
Ethereal minds diffuse their cheering light,
And quell the demons of eternal night;
Like Sol, to bless the universe, they shine;
Bright emanations of the POWER DIVINE!
Lesbury, June 13th, 1804.
327
A POETICAL TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF LORD NELSON
INSCRIBED, WITH GREAT RESPECT, TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES GREY.
Nelson, with all the patriot's ardour fired,
Like our great Wolfe, in victory's arms expired.
Triumphant Calpe, on the hostile shore,
Heard the last thunder of his cannon roar;
Firm as our hero, with a proud disdain,
It claimed our empire o'er the land, and main.
Like our great Wolfe, in victory's arms expired.
Triumphant Calpe, on the hostile shore,
Heard the last thunder of his cannon roar;
Firm as our hero, with a proud disdain,
It claimed our empire o'er the land, and main.
Oft had he suffered for his country's good;
His laurels oft took vigour from his blood;
Where'er our fleets unfurled their prosperous sails,
His glory flew with as propitious gales.
His laurels oft took vigour from his blood;
Where'er our fleets unfurled their prosperous sails,
His glory flew with as propitious gales.
May thy illustrious deeds, in history's page,
With dignity be told, to every age;
May, to present thee to admiring eyes,
A Dionysius, or a Livy rise!
With dignity be told, to every age;
328
A Dionysius, or a Livy rise!
Shall feeble age endeavour to throw forth
Some strong ideas, to express thy worth?
Some strong ideas, to express thy worth?
Though long the British flag hath ruled the sea,
It's bravest heroes were excelled by thee;
The shades of Hawke, and of Boscawen shine
With fainter glories, when compared with thine.
This praise to a new height exalts thy name;
Thus, on the summit placed, of human fame.
It's bravest heroes were excelled by thee;
The shades of Hawke, and of Boscawen shine
With fainter glories, when compared with thine.
This praise to a new height exalts thy name;
Thus, on the summit placed, of human fame.
Lesbury, Nov. 9th, 1805.
329
AN EPITAPH ON MR. PITT.
Quoad humanum genus incolume manserit; quamdiu usus literis,
honor summæ eloquentiæ pretium erit; quamdiu rerum natura, aut fortuna
steterit, aut memoria duraverit; admirabile posteris vigebis ingenium.
aurelius puscus; de cicerone.
The first of Statesmen has resigned his breath;
But fame immortal will succeed his death.
Unequalled genius, he, through every age
Or of the Grecian, or the Roman page!
Destined he was by nature, to controul
The fine emotions of the human soul:
While by his oratory's copious tide
His friends were borne along with rapturous pride;
His honest foes were wont their praise to pay;
And opposition heard it's rage away.
But fame immortal will succeed his death.
Unequalled genius, he, through every age
Or of the Grecian, or the Roman page!
Destined he was by nature, to controul
The fine emotions of the human soul:
While by his oratory's copious tide
His friends were borne along with rapturous pride;
His honest foes were wont their praise to pay;
And opposition heard it's rage away.
Contrasted talents were in him combined;
Command of temper, and command of mind:
He, whom an ardent eloquence inspired;
Who, while he spoke, his listening audience fired;
Knew to improve the public solid health;
And fix the sources of a nation's wealth.
Short was his life, but large the space it ran;
Ambition blazed through his extended plan!
While virtue's light serene adorned the man.
Command of temper, and command of mind:
330
Who, while he spoke, his listening audience fired;
Knew to improve the public solid health;
And fix the sources of a nation's wealth.
Short was his life, but large the space it ran;
Ambition blazed through his extended plan!
While virtue's light serene adorned the man.
Lesbury, near Alnwick, Jan. 26, 1806.
331
ON THE ANTIQUITIES OF MONMOUTHSHIRE:
A BOOK, JUST PUBLISHED.
Monmouth! in print thou art not doomed to shine!
A sculptor vile, a vile historian, thine!
Dexterous, the one, to tumble rocks on houses;
The other wight your just resentment rouses,
While character he injures, or confounds;
His satire lies, even his encomium wounds!
His periods not with silk, but pack-thread strung,
Expose the cobler of his mother-tongue!
A sculptor vile, a vile historian, thine!
Dexterous, the one, to tumble rocks on houses;
The other wight your just resentment rouses,
While character he injures, or confounds;
His satire lies, even his encomium wounds!
His periods not with silk, but pack-thread strung,
Expose the cobler of his mother-tongue!
Ingenious artist! happy to display
Men, who in arms, or letters, bear the sway!
How faintly Homer's favourite warriour shines,
Compared with him, who decorates thy lines!
His hero was a butcherly French trooper;
Thine is the bright, and peaceful Dr. Hooper!
Men, who in arms, or letters, bear the sway!
How faintly Homer's favourite warriour shines,
Compared with him, who decorates thy lines!
His hero was a butcherly French trooper;
Thine is the bright, and peaceful Dr. Hooper!
332
Thy memoirs, faithless to the social scene,
Debase a Griffin, agonize a Green;
Give Lewis no due tribute of the heart;
But only crown him with a ploughman's art:
Praise, for dull botany, his daughter fair;
Formed to excite, and feel, a finer care!
Preposterous times! that give each folly birth!
They, who may chuse their studies, cling to earth;
While o'er them, golden orbs unnumbered roll,
Which press the God upon the reasoning soul!
Debase a Griffin, agonize a Green;
Give Lewis no due tribute of the heart;
But only crown him with a ploughman's art:
Praise, for dull botany, his daughter fair;
Formed to excite, and feel, a finer care!
Preposterous times! that give each folly birth!
They, who may chuse their studies, cling to earth;
While o'er them, golden orbs unnumbered roll,
Which press the God upon the reasoning soul!
Yet Griffin better talents recommend
Even to the praise of a pretended friend:
In him, a classick sense, a taste prevails;
Not the cold genealogy of Wales:—
And if, as Williams tells us, Green is vain;
His heart feels little agonizing pain.
Even to the praise of a pretended friend:
In him, a classick sense, a taste prevails;
Not the cold genealogy of Wales:—
And if, as Williams tells us, Green is vain;
His heart feels little agonizing pain.
Paternal heaven! to me, whose genial power
With mental ardour cheers the lonely hour;
Oh! ever from thy suppliant's mind avert
A frost, impassive to humane desert!
Lewis, perhaps, is not prepared to see
A mite of honest homage payed by me;
But still fair Truth commands my verse to flow;
Hence, I have some dear friends, and many a foe.
This man deserves an eulogy more warm
Than Williams gives;—the rustick skill to form:
Priests breathe a blessing on the hungry poor;
They, loaded with his bounty leave his door;
Like Job, he searches their disputed cause;
And saves them from some harpy of the laws.
With mental ardour cheers the lonely hour;
Oh! ever from thy suppliant's mind avert
A frost, impassive to humane desert!
Lewis, perhaps, is not prepared to see
A mite of honest homage payed by me;
333
Hence, I have some dear friends, and many a foe.
This man deserves an eulogy more warm
Than Williams gives;—the rustick skill to form:
Priests breathe a blessing on the hungry poor;
They, loaded with his bounty leave his door;
Like Job, he searches their disputed cause;
And saves them from some harpy of the laws.
Had Bethlehem's star, of humble swains the guide;
Of souls, unclouded with pedantick pride;
On thee benighted, beamed, with friendly ray,
With all the light of evangelick day;
Ideas, in thy brain, had held no dance
Of anarchy, thou citizen of France!
The whole creation frets an impious mind;
To enemies, unjust, to friends, unkind.
Of souls, unclouded with pedantick pride;
On thee benighted, beamed, with friendly ray,
With all the light of evangelick day;
Ideas, in thy brain, had held no dance
Of anarchy, thou citizen of France!
The whole creation frets an impious mind;
To enemies, unjust, to friends, unkind.
Not so, the soul, who views our blooming shore;
Our haven fair, when life's rude storms are o'er;
To him a luminous, bold road is shown;
He marches on; and fears his God alone;
Strives to make tyrants, and oppressors, feel;
Though shields of gold protect their hearts of steel:
In rags, his best, his noblest friend, can see;
If virtue warms his heart, and keeps him free.—
Our haven fair, when life's rude storms are o'er;
To him a luminous, bold road is shown;
He marches on; and fears his God alone;
Strives to make tyrants, and oppressors, feel;
Though shields of gold protect their hearts of steel:
334
If virtue warms his heart, and keeps him free.—
Oh! Virtue, all-sufficient! at thy school,
My health invigorate; and my passions rule!
Thy pure; thy frugal; yet thy generous plan,
Throws us on God; far from the dread of man!
Thy influence acts a doubly glorious part;
Improves the mind, while it refines the heart:
The Christian simple, yet exalted laws,
Enforce the pictures which Longinus draws.
A hope, defeating all the wrecks of time,
The soul habituates to a strain sublime;
Ensures the man's; promotes the writer's fate;—
What makes us good, conspires to make us great.
My health invigorate; and my passions rule!
Thy pure; thy frugal; yet thy generous plan,
Throws us on God; far from the dread of man!
Thy influence acts a doubly glorious part;
Improves the mind, while it refines the heart:
The Christian simple, yet exalted laws,
Enforce the pictures which Longinus draws.
A hope, defeating all the wrecks of time,
The soul habituates to a strain sublime;
Ensures the man's; promotes the writer's fate;—
What makes us good, conspires to make us great.
Monmouth, Sunday, April 24th, 1796.
| The Poetical Works of Percival Stockdale | |