 | The Poetical Works of Percival Stockdale |  |
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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;
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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;
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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.
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