Three poems I. To the Right Honourable the Lord High-Chancellor of Great Britain; on His Lordship's being created Earl of Macclesfield. II. To the Right Honourable the Lord Parker; on his return from his travels. III. To the same, the Right Honourable the Lord Parker; on his marriage with Mrs. Mary Lane. All written by L. Eusden |
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To the Right Honourable the Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain;
On His being Created EARL of MACCLESFIELD. |
 | Three poems |  |
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To the Right Honourable the Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain; On His being Created EARL of MACCLESFIELD.
------ Dubiis quis Litibus addere finem
Justior, & mersum latebris educere Verum?
Claud.
Justior, & mersum latebris educere Verum?
Claud.
Desert, oft hid in Shades, when Monarchs trace,
And unknown Excellence with Titles grace,
Malicious Tongues the Fav'rite's Actions scan,
Eager to check, and damp the soaring Man.
But Envy here in dumb Confusion lies,
She from new Merit sees new Honours rise.
If some brave Soldier the high Walls had won,
None ask'd, why CÆSAR gave the Mural-Crown.
Virtue's long-winding Temple first was past,
The gilded Dome of Honour shone the last.
One is th'Applause, here ev'n pleas'd Factions sing
The worthy Subject, and the bounteous King.
And unknown Excellence with Titles grace,
Malicious Tongues the Fav'rite's Actions scan,
Eager to check, and damp the soaring Man.
But Envy here in dumb Confusion lies,
She from new Merit sees new Honours rise.
If some brave Soldier the high Walls had won,
None ask'd, why CÆSAR gave the Mural-Crown.
Virtue's long-winding Temple first was past,
The gilded Dome of Honour shone the last.
One is th'Applause, here ev'n pleas'd Factions sing
The worthy Subject, and the bounteous King.
How shall I paint the Circle of thy Praise?
Thy Youth blaz'd bright, still brighter grew the Blaze.
Prophetic GRANTA with a Mother's Joy
Saw Greatness omen'd in the manly Boy,
Who mad'st thy Studies thy belov'd Concern,
Nor could She teach so fast, as Thou would'st learn.
Thee, Thee with Pride these Seats their own declare,
Which the blest TRIADE's Name majestick bear:
Still absent Thee our Groves, and Muses mourn,
Still sighing Echoes the sad Sound return,
And CAM with Tears supplies his streaming Urn.
Thy Youth blaz'd bright, still brighter grew the Blaze.
Prophetic GRANTA with a Mother's Joy
Saw Greatness omen'd in the manly Boy,
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Nor could She teach so fast, as Thou would'st learn.
Thee, Thee with Pride these Seats their own declare,
Which the blest TRIADE's Name majestick bear:
Still absent Thee our Groves, and Muses mourn,
Still sighing Echoes the sad Sound return,
And CAM with Tears supplies his streaming Urn.
The Boy-Age past, the sprightly Youth was shown,
Early distinguish'd in the Pleading-Gown.
How quick t'explore the Hinges of each Cause,
And loose with Ease the Knots of twisted Laws!
Such Industry thro' Arts would force its Way,
Tho' Titan had refus'd his better Clay:
But with so bright a Genius Thou wast born,
As well might look on Industry with Scorn.
Whene'er Thou spak'st, so melting was thy Tongue,
That ev'n thy list'ning Foes not thought Thee long.
They the sweet Pleader own'd, tho' to their Cost,
While by his Sweetness they their Suit had lost.
Early distinguish'd in the Pleading-Gown.
How quick t'explore the Hinges of each Cause,
And loose with Ease the Knots of twisted Laws!
Such Industry thro' Arts would force its Way,
Tho' Titan had refus'd his better Clay:
But with so bright a Genius Thou wast born,
As well might look on Industry with Scorn.
Whene'er Thou spak'st, so melting was thy Tongue,
That ev'n thy list'ning Foes not thought Thee long.
They the sweet Pleader own'd, tho' to their Cost,
While by his Sweetness they their Suit had lost.
By slow Degrees some gain at last a Name,
And on the Verge of Life arrive at Fame:
In Thee surprizing Happiness was seen,
Mature in Glory, when in Years but green.
Thus, blest with richer Soil, and warmer Skies,
Peruvian Gardens Northern Fruits despise;
Ripe Melons in four Months with pain We raise,
Delicious There they grow in thirty Days.
And on the Verge of Life arrive at Fame:
In Thee surprizing Happiness was seen,
Mature in Glory, when in Years but green.
Thus, blest with richer Soil, and warmer Skies,
Peruvian Gardens Northern Fruits despise;
Ripe Melons in four Months with pain We raise,
Delicious There they grow in thirty Days.
While-e'er a God-like Soul shall Chains detest,
And Love of Freedom fire a British Breast,
So long His Praise shall British Annals tell,
Who rescu'd beauteous Liberty so well.
The finish'd Orator they will record,
When Words each Action, Actions grac'd each Word.
Such was the Music of Thy Eloquence,
It would have pleas'd without the Nerves of Sense:
Yet with such Nerves of Sense all Parts were strung,
They had flow'd sweet from a Barbarian Tongue.
At TULLY's Voice the Heart of MOLO bled,
Tears, for his GREECE outvy'd, the Rhodian shed:
TULLY, if living, would share MOLO's Doom,
And weeping mourn in Thee his conquer'd ROME.
And Love of Freedom fire a British Breast,
So long His Praise shall British Annals tell,
Who rescu'd beauteous Liberty so well.
The finish'd Orator they will record,
When Words each Action, Actions grac'd each Word.
Such was the Music of Thy Eloquence,
It would have pleas'd without the Nerves of Sense:
Yet with such Nerves of Sense all Parts were strung,
They had flow'd sweet from a Barbarian Tongue.
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Tears, for his GREECE outvy'd, the Rhodian shed:
TULLY, if living, would share MOLO's Doom,
And weeping mourn in Thee his conquer'd ROME.
I pass the Steps to thy exalted State,
And at once view Thee in Meridian Height.
Oft has that glorious Station been supply'd
By those who bloom'd their Country's Darling Pride.
With great Fore-runners to contend in Fame
Shews the Mind's Greatness, and a Heav'n-born Flame:
Thy daring Soul pursues still nobler Ends,
And first it rivals Virtues, next transcends.
For Arts, for Learning, the Renown'd must yield,
And VERULAM be lost in MACCLESFIELD.
And at once view Thee in Meridian Height.
Oft has that glorious Station been supply'd
By those who bloom'd their Country's Darling Pride.
With great Fore-runners to contend in Fame
Shews the Mind's Greatness, and a Heav'n-born Flame:
Thy daring Soul pursues still nobler Ends,
And first it rivals Virtues, next transcends.
For Arts, for Learning, the Renown'd must yield,
And VERULAM be lost in MACCLESFIELD.
When the PEDALII solemnly adore
Their Gods, they Justice in their Land implore;
This comprehensive Boon is their Request,
They, blest with Justice, are for ever blest.
If to those Indians thou wert known, their Pray'r
Would be to Heav'n, that Heav'n thy Life would spare,
And thither Thee transplant to rule the State;
Or would a Ruler there, like Thee, create.
Their Gods, they Justice in their Land implore;
This comprehensive Boon is their Request,
They, blest with Justice, are for ever blest.
If to those Indians thou wert known, their Pray'r
Would be to Heav'n, that Heav'n thy Life would spare,
And thither Thee transplant to rule the State;
Or would a Ruler there, like Thee, create.
A deathless Piece may some new TITIAN give,
Bid Thee and Justice in one Canvass live:
Or shall the Sculptor's Hand, thy Acts to tell,
TRAJAN's proud Column in nice Art excel?
Where with his glitt'ring Troops encompass'd round,
Swift from the Warrior-Horse he leaps a-ground,
Up-lifts the drooping Dame:—Her Plaints were long,
Patient He heard 'em, and redress'd her Wrong.
The curious Chissel has the Passions shown,
Grief glooms, and Joy smiles in th'enliven'd Stone.
Here each rough Vet'ran, touch'd with Woe, appears,
And silent melts in undissembl'd Tears:
Just CÆSAR! there glad Legions shout around,
And we with sweet Delusion hear the Sound.
Bid Thee and Justice in one Canvass live:
Or shall the Sculptor's Hand, thy Acts to tell,
TRAJAN's proud Column in nice Art excel?
Where with his glitt'ring Troops encompass'd round,
Swift from the Warrior-Horse he leaps a-ground,
Up-lifts the drooping Dame:—Her Plaints were long,
Patient He heard 'em, and redress'd her Wrong.
The curious Chissel has the Passions shown,
Grief glooms, and Joy smiles in th'enliven'd Stone.
Here each rough Vet'ran, touch'd with Woe, appears,
And silent melts in undissembl'd Tears:
Just CÆSAR! there glad Legions shout around,
And we with sweet Delusion hear the Sound.
But see! the pleasing Theme of future Times,
A youthful PARKER shines in foreign Climes,
Who travels with such Stores of Learning fraught,
As few have ever from long Travels brought.
O! may I hail the Day, when He shall come
Adorn'd with Arts of various Nations home!
When Thou shalt view with Pride confest thy Son,
While CICERO was not in his MARCUS known.
He to thy Fame shall gloriously aspire,
And full reflect the Lustre of his Sire.
A youthful PARKER shines in foreign Climes,
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As few have ever from long Travels brought.
O! may I hail the Day, when He shall come
Adorn'd with Arts of various Nations home!
When Thou shalt view with Pride confest thy Son,
While CICERO was not in his MARCUS known.
He to thy Fame shall gloriously aspire,
And full reflect the Lustre of his Sire.
Thee, wond'rous Man! the Muse delighted sings,
And with Ambition strikes the Vocal Strings.
She owns, she fiercely burns thy Smiles to gain,
Who art no Stranger to th'Aönian Train.
Thy Friendship GARTH with ADDISON could share,
And HUGHES and ROWE were thy peculiar Care.
And with Ambition strikes the Vocal Strings.
She owns, she fiercely burns thy Smiles to gain,
Who art no Stranger to th'Aönian Train.
Thy Friendship GARTH with ADDISON could share,
And HUGHES and ROWE were thy peculiar Care.
O! deeply vers'd in Mysteries divine,
Scorn not the Bard, who scorns the fabl'd NINE;
Who from APOLLO's guilty Altars flies,
And vows to Heav'n a purer Sacrifice,
To the true GOD who consecrates his Lays,
That founded All Things, and that All Things sways:
The Poet's Laurels He ordains to grow,
And, when they fade, can fadeless Wreaths bestow.
Scorn not the Bard, who scorns the fabl'd NINE;
Who from APOLLO's guilty Altars flies,
And vows to Heav'n a purer Sacrifice,
To the true GOD who consecrates his Lays,
That founded All Things, and that All Things sways:
The Poet's Laurels He ordains to grow,
And, when they fade, can fadeless Wreaths bestow.
But I, too lavish of thy Time, prolong
Untuneful Numbers, and an artless Song.
Anxious with different Views of EUROPE's State,
GEORGE and his Counsellors thy Counsels wait.
ASTRÆA on my Verse begins to frown;
I hear the Widows sigh, and Orphans groan.
I dare no more pursue th'inviting Strain,
Lest, while thy list'ning Ears I, pleas'd, detain,
I give to Thousands, by thy Absence, Pain.
Untuneful Numbers, and an artless Song.
Anxious with different Views of EUROPE's State,
GEORGE and his Counsellors thy Counsels wait.
ASTRÆA on my Verse begins to frown;
I hear the Widows sigh, and Orphans groan.
I dare no more pursue th'inviting Strain,
Lest, while thy list'ning Ears I, pleas'd, detain,
I give to Thousands, by thy Absence, Pain.
Cambridge, January 24, 1721/22.
| Three poems | |