Poems, Fables, and Plays :: :: University of Virginia Library

Take wing, my muse! from shore to shore
Fly, and that happy place explore
Where Virtue deigns to dwell;
If yet she treads on British ground,
Where can the fugitive be found,
In city, court, or cell?

II

Not there, where wine and frantic mirth
Unite the sensual sons of earth
In Pleasure's thoughtless train;
Nor yet where sanctity's a show,
Where souls nor joy nor pity know,
For human bliss or pain.

III

Her social heart alike disowns
The race, who shunning crowds and thrones,
In shades sequester'd doze;
Whose sloth no generous care can wake,
Who rot like weeds on Lethe's lake,
In senseless, vile repose.

IV

With these she shuns the factious tribe,
Who spurn the yet unoffer'd bribe,
And at corruption lour;
Waiting till Discord Havock cries,
In hopes, like Catiline, to rise
On anarchy to pow'r!

V

Ye Wits, who boast from ancient times,
A right divine to scourge our crimes,
Is it with You she rests?
No. Int'rest, slander are your views,
And Virtue now, with every muse,
Flies your unhallow'd breasts.

VI

There was a time, I heard her say,
Ere females were seduc'd by play,
When Beauty was her throne;
But now, where dwelt the Soft Desires,
The Furies light forbidden fires,
To Love and Her unknown.

VII

From these th' indignant goddess flies,
And where the spires of Science rise,
A while suspends her wing;
But pedant Pride and Rage are there,
And Faction tainting all the air,
And pois'ning every spring.

VIII

Long through the sky's wide pathless way
The muse observ'd the wand'rer stray,
And mark'd her last retreat;
O'er Surry's barren heaths she flew,
Descending like the silent dew
On Esher's peaceful seat.

IX

There she beholds the gentle Mole,
His pensive waters calmly roll,
Amidst Elysian ground:
There through the windings of the grove
She leads her family of Love,
And strews her sweets around.

X

I hear her bid the Daughters fair
Oft to yon gloomy grott repair,
Her secret steps to meet;
Nor Thou, she cries, these shades forsake,
But come, lov'd Consort, come and make
The husband's bliss compleat.

XI

Yet not too much the soothing ease
Of rural indolence shall please
My Pelham's ardent breast;
The man whom Virtue calls her own
Must stand the pillar of a throne,
And make a nation blest.

XII

Pelham! 'tis thine with temp'rate zeal
To guard Britannia's public weal,
Attack'd on every part:
Her fatal discords to compose,
Unite her friends, disarm her foes,
Demands Thy head and heart.

XIII

When bold Rebellion shook the land,
Ere yet from William's dauntless hand
Her barbarous army fled;
When Valour droop'd, and Wisdom fear'd,
Thy voice expiring Credit heard,
And rais'd her languid head.

XIV

Now by thy strong assisting hand,
Fix'd on a rock I see her stand,
Against whose solid feet,
In vain, through every future age,
The loudest, most tempestuous rage,
Of angry war shall beat.

XV

And grieve not if the sons of Strife
Attempt to cloud thy spotless life,
And shade its brightest scenes;
Wretches, by kindness unsubdu'd,
Who see, who share the common good,
Yet cavil at the means.

XVI

Like these, the metaphysic crew,
Proud to be singular and new,
Think all they see deceit;
Are warm'd and cherish'd by the day,
Feel and enjoy the heav'nly ray,
Yet doubt of light and heat.