 | The Poetical Works of Percival Stockdale |  |
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.
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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?
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“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.
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