The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop ... To Which are Prefixed, Memoirs of the Life of the Author By the Rev. Thomas Clare |
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THE ENGLISH CHARACTER. |
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 | The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop |  |
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THE ENGLISH CHARACTER.
When Horace named the Natives of our Isle,
“Savage to strangers,” was th' invidious style:
'Twas Virgil's pleasure Britain's sons to call,
“Men sever'd from the world”—and that was all.—
Martial indeed a little farther goes,
And grants our sires some genius could disclose;
For Rome, he tells us in right pompous tone,
From “barbarous British baskets, form'd her own.”
“Savage to strangers,” was th' invidious style:
'Twas Virgil's pleasure Britain's sons to call,
“Men sever'd from the world”—and that was all.—
Martial indeed a little farther goes,
And grants our sires some genius could disclose;
For Rome, he tells us in right pompous tone,
From “barbarous British baskets, form'd her own.”
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This, in old writ, and only this we learn;
In vain of course to such records we turn:
In vain we seek for classical eclat;—
England's own portrait, English facts must draw.
In vain of course to such records we turn:
In vain we seek for classical eclat;—
England's own portrait, English facts must draw.
So be it then.—And if you can endure,
So bold an effort of an hand so poor;
Accept this humble sketch from my rude skill,
Whose faithful outline, truth at least shall fill.
So bold an effort of an hand so poor;
Accept this humble sketch from my rude skill,
Whose faithful outline, truth at least shall fill.
Among the splendid boasts of national fame,
Stands with proud eminence martial glory's claim;
And England's foes in many a conflict crost,
Have tried her native valour to their cost;
Have felt how sure, yet how humanely slow,
Her vengeance; how decisive is her blow;
Vigorous t' enforce the sword, she loves to sheath;
And twining victory's palm, with mercy's wreath!
Stands with proud eminence martial glory's claim;
And England's foes in many a conflict crost,
Have tried her native valour to their cost;
Have felt how sure, yet how humanely slow,
Her vengeance; how decisive is her blow;
Vigorous t' enforce the sword, she loves to sheath;
And twining victory's palm, with mercy's wreath!
Provoke an Englishman! how warm he glows!
—No longer fierce, when you no more oppose:—
Frank to announce th' emotions of his mind!
Stern to the stubborn! to the suppliant kind!
Impetuous to insist on right and fit!
Keen to urge proofs, ingenuous to admit!
With still an arm, encroachment to withstand!
With still an heart, for every friendly hand!
—No longer fierce, when you no more oppose:—
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Stern to the stubborn! to the suppliant kind!
Impetuous to insist on right and fit!
Keen to urge proofs, ingenuous to admit!
With still an arm, encroachment to withstand!
With still an heart, for every friendly hand!
Press'd by misfortune's tempests, gathering round,
An English sufferer's patience stands its ground:
Each fresh attack, some strong resolve renews:
Assault may crush it, but no force subdues.
An English sufferer's patience stands its ground:
Each fresh attack, some strong resolve renews:
Assault may crush it, but no force subdues.
Whatever boon an Englishman bestows,
From mere good-will, the prompt beneficence flows:
Free from all grudge, unwarpt by all controul,
His welcome, speaks the welcome of the soul!
From mere good-will, the prompt beneficence flows:
Free from all grudge, unwarpt by all controul,
His welcome, speaks the welcome of the soul!
Too oft, alas! in this our clime is seen,
Th' Hypochondriac, brooding o'er his spleen;
Yet ev'n that spleen can sympathy's call abide;
Lost to himself, he feels for all beside:—
Shew him some harder task, some manlier aim,
Some feasible benefit, some sublimer claim,
His powers fresh impulse from despair will take,
And all the Englishman within,—awake.
Th' Hypochondriac, brooding o'er his spleen;
Yet ev'n that spleen can sympathy's call abide;
Lost to himself, he feels for all beside:—
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Some feasible benefit, some sublimer claim,
His powers fresh impulse from despair will take,
And all the Englishman within,—awake.
Some call us contradictions; fire and phlegm;
Eager to gain, what gain'd we soon contemn;
If weakness here, sarcastic censure finds,
'Tis sure, the weakness of the noblest minds;
And only proves us to impartial eyes,
More anxious for the cause, than for the prize.
Eager to gain, what gain'd we soon contemn;
If weakness here, sarcastic censure finds,
'Tis sure, the weakness of the noblest minds;
And only proves us to impartial eyes,
More anxious for the cause, than for the prize.
Satirists, sometimes, in English manners, sneer
Address too blunt, and sentiments too severe;
The sanguine fervor, rapid feelings vouch,
Which scorning to deceive, disdains to crouch.
—We own the charge:—we are indeed a race,
Rough of approach, and awkward at grimace;
But trial, (if you try us) will declare,
What obvious, kindred virtues centre there;—
Exalted sense of honour! all the pride
Of conscious truth, to liberal thought ally'd!
Sincerity's purpose! honest candor's trust!
Whate'er inspires, becomes, or binds the just!
Address too blunt, and sentiments too severe;
The sanguine fervor, rapid feelings vouch,
Which scorning to deceive, disdains to crouch.
—We own the charge:—we are indeed a race,
Rough of approach, and awkward at grimace;
But trial, (if you try us) will declare,
What obvious, kindred virtues centre there;—
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Of conscious truth, to liberal thought ally'd!
Sincerity's purpose! honest candor's trust!
Whate'er inspires, becomes, or binds the just!
So stands amidst the waves, our country's shore;
And frowns contempt on Ocean's angry roar.
A front abrupt, her rocky cliffs present;
As if for rude resistance only meant;
But all within th' encircling steep barrier,
Luxuriant vales, and oak-crown'd hills appear;
A soil, where plenty's best varieties reign,
A kingdom, worthy real freedom's train:—
While Nature seems to adopt the favourite coast,
The Land her garden, and the Men her boast.
And frowns contempt on Ocean's angry roar.
A front abrupt, her rocky cliffs present;
As if for rude resistance only meant;
But all within th' encircling steep barrier,
Luxuriant vales, and oak-crown'd hills appear;
A soil, where plenty's best varieties reign,
A kingdom, worthy real freedom's train:—
While Nature seems to adopt the favourite coast,
The Land her garden, and the Men her boast.
| The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop | |