The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour collated with the ms. volume of his poems, and containing several pieces hitherto unpublished; with illustrative notes, and an account of the life of the author. By James Paterson |
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HORACE, BOOK I., EPISTLE XVIII., IMITATED. |
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 | The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour |  |
HORACE, BOOK I., EPISTLE XVIII., IMITATED.
Dear Ramsay, if I know thy soul aright,
Plain-dealing honesty's thy dear delight:
Not great, but candid born; not rich, but free;
Thinks kings most wretched, and most happy me:
Thy tongue untaught to lie, thy knee to bend,
I fear no flatt'rer where I wish a friend.
As the chaste matron's tender look and kind,
Where sits the soul to speak the yearning mind,
From the false colouring of the wanton shows
Th' unhallow'd roses and polluted snows,
A glare of beauty, nauseous to the sight,
Gross but to feed desire, not raise delight:
So differs far, in value, use and end,
The praising foe from the reproving friend.
Such distance lies between, nay greater far,
Who bears an honest heart, or bears a star.
A fault there is, but of another sort,
That aims by nastiness to make its court;
By downright rudeness would attempt to please,
And sticks his friendship on your lips in grease:
With him (for such were Sparta's rigid rules)
All the polite are knaves; the cleanly, fools;
Good humour for impertinence prevails;
So strangely honest,—he'll not pair his nails.
Know, virtuous Sir, if not indeed a slave,
Yet, sordid as the thing, thou art a knave;
Virtue, its own, and every plain man's guide,
Serenely walks, with vice on every side,
Keeps its own course, to its own point does bend,
To follies deaf that call from either end.
This simple maxim should a statesman doubt,
Two characters shall make it plainly out.
The first is his, (the opposite of proud)
By far more humble than a Christian should,
Pursues, distasteful of plain sober cheer,
Th' inhospitable dinner of a peer;
Usurps, without the task of saying grace,
The poor starv'd chaplain's perquisites and place;
To vice gives virtue, to old age gives youth;
So well bred he—he never spoke one truth:
With watchful eyes sits full against my lord,
And catches, as it falls, each heavy word;
That, echo'd back, and sent from lungs more able,
Assumes new force, and bandies round the table.
All stare: “Was ever thing so pretty spoke?”
You'd almost swear it was his grace's joke.
Yet such as these divide the great man's store,
And flatter out the friendless and the poor.
Plain-dealing honesty's thy dear delight:
Not great, but candid born; not rich, but free;
Thinks kings most wretched, and most happy me:
Thy tongue untaught to lie, thy knee to bend,
I fear no flatt'rer where I wish a friend.
As the chaste matron's tender look and kind,
Where sits the soul to speak the yearning mind,
From the false colouring of the wanton shows
Th' unhallow'd roses and polluted snows,
A glare of beauty, nauseous to the sight,
Gross but to feed desire, not raise delight:
So differs far, in value, use and end,
The praising foe from the reproving friend.
Such distance lies between, nay greater far,
Who bears an honest heart, or bears a star.
A fault there is, but of another sort,
That aims by nastiness to make its court;
By downright rudeness would attempt to please,
And sticks his friendship on your lips in grease:
136
All the polite are knaves; the cleanly, fools;
Good humour for impertinence prevails;
So strangely honest,—he'll not pair his nails.
Know, virtuous Sir, if not indeed a slave,
Yet, sordid as the thing, thou art a knave;
Virtue, its own, and every plain man's guide,
Serenely walks, with vice on every side,
Keeps its own course, to its own point does bend,
To follies deaf that call from either end.
This simple maxim should a statesman doubt,
Two characters shall make it plainly out.
The first is his, (the opposite of proud)
By far more humble than a Christian should,
Pursues, distasteful of plain sober cheer,
Th' inhospitable dinner of a peer;
Usurps, without the task of saying grace,
The poor starv'd chaplain's perquisites and place;
To vice gives virtue, to old age gives youth;
So well bred he—he never spoke one truth:
With watchful eyes sits full against my lord,
And catches, as it falls, each heavy word;
That, echo'd back, and sent from lungs more able,
Assumes new force, and bandies round the table.
All stare: “Was ever thing so pretty spoke?”
You'd almost swear it was his grace's joke.
Yet such as these divide the great man's store,
And flatter out the friendless and the poor.
Nor less the fool our censure must engage,
Whom every trifle rouses into rage.
He arms for all, so fierce the wordy war,
Labeo far less tenacious at the bar;
Words heap'd on words so fast together drive,
Like clust'ring bees that darken from the hive,
He fights; alas! what mortal dares confute him?
With tongue, hand, eyes, and every inch about him?
Deny me this; ah! rather than comply
A thing so plain—I'd sooner starve or die.
But, pray, what all this mighty fury draws?
Say, raves the patriot o'er expiring laws?
Say, on th' oppressor does his anger fall?
Pleads he for the distress'd, like good Newhall?
Against corruption does his vengeance rise?
The army? or the general excise?
On trifling themes like these our man is mute,
As S---, if fee-less you present your suit.
More sacred truths his zealous rage supply;
What all acknowledge, or what all deny:
If rogues in red are worse than rogues in lawn;
Or *** be as a great a dunce as ---;
Or if our Hannibal's fam'd Alpine road,
Be thirty foot, or five-and-thirty broad.
Whom every trifle rouses into rage.
He arms for all, so fierce the wordy war,
Labeo far less tenacious at the bar;
Words heap'd on words so fast together drive,
Like clust'ring bees that darken from the hive,
He fights; alas! what mortal dares confute him?
With tongue, hand, eyes, and every inch about him?
Deny me this; ah! rather than comply
A thing so plain—I'd sooner starve or die.
But, pray, what all this mighty fury draws?
Say, raves the patriot o'er expiring laws?
Say, on th' oppressor does his anger fall?
Pleads he for the distress'd, like good Newhall?
Against corruption does his vengeance rise?
The army? or the general excise?
On trifling themes like these our man is mute,
As S---, if fee-less you present your suit.
More sacred truths his zealous rage supply;
What all acknowledge, or what all deny:
If rogues in red are worse than rogues in lawn;
Or *** be as a great a dunce as ---;
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Be thirty foot, or five-and-thirty broad.
The vicious man, tho' in the worst degree,
His neighbour thinks more vicious still than he.
Is there whom lawless love should bring to gallows?
He cries, what vengeance waits on perjur'd fellows?
Ruchead, who pin'd amidst his boundless store,
Could wonder why rich Selkirk wish'd for more:
The youthful knight, who squanders all away,
On whores, on equipage, on dress and play;
The man who thirsts and hungers after gold;
The tricking tradesman, and the merchant bold,
Whom fear of poverty compels to fly
Thro' seas, excisemen, rocks, oaths, perjury;
Start at each other's crimes with pious fright,
Yet think themselves forever in the right.
His neighbour thinks more vicious still than he.
Is there whom lawless love should bring to gallows?
He cries, what vengeance waits on perjur'd fellows?
Ruchead, who pin'd amidst his boundless store,
Could wonder why rich Selkirk wish'd for more:
The youthful knight, who squanders all away,
On whores, on equipage, on dress and play;
The man who thirsts and hungers after gold;
The tricking tradesman, and the merchant bold,
Whom fear of poverty compels to fly
Thro' seas, excisemen, rocks, oaths, perjury;
Start at each other's crimes with pious fright,
Yet think themselves forever in the right.
But above all, the rogue of wealth exclaims,
And calls the poorer sinner filthy names;
Tho' his foul soul, discolour'd all within,
Has deeper drank the tincture of each sin:
Or else advises, as the mother sage
Rebukes the hopes and torment of her age,
(And, saith, tho' insolent of wealth, in this
Methinks, good friend, he talks not much amiss)
“Yield, yield, O fool, to my superior merit,
Without a sixpence thou, and sin with spirit?
For me those high adventures kept by fate;
For crimes look graceful with a large estate:
Then cease, vain madman, and contend no more:
Heav'n meant thee virtuous when it made thee poor.”
And calls the poorer sinner filthy names;
Tho' his foul soul, discolour'd all within,
Has deeper drank the tincture of each sin:
Or else advises, as the mother sage
Rebukes the hopes and torment of her age,
(And, saith, tho' insolent of wealth, in this
Methinks, good friend, he talks not much amiss)
“Yield, yield, O fool, to my superior merit,
Without a sixpence thou, and sin with spirit?
For me those high adventures kept by fate;
For crimes look graceful with a large estate:
Then cease, vain madman, and contend no more:
Heav'n meant thee virtuous when it made thee poor.”
But crimes like these to gold we can forgive;
What boots it how they die or how they live?
Then weep, my friend, when wicked wealth you find,
To change the species of the virtuous mind.
You've doubtless heard how 'twas a statesman's way,
Whene'er he would oblige, that is, betray,
Invited first the destin'd prey to dine,
Then whisper'd in his ear, “You must be fine:
Fine clothes, gay equipage, a splendid board
Give youth a lustre, and become a lord.
Why loiter meanly in paternal grounds,
To neighbours owe thy ease, thy health to hounds?
Go roam about, in gilded chariot hurl'd;
Make friends of strangers, child, and learn the world:
These kind instructors teach you best of any,
The wise Sir William and the good Lord Fanny.”
Guiltless he hears of pension and of place,
Then sinks in honour as he swells in lace;
Each hardy virtue yields, and, day by day,
Melts in the sunshine of a court away.
At first (not every manly thought resign'd)
He wonders why he dares not tell his mind;
Feels the last footsteps of retiring grace,
And virtuous blushes lingering on his face:
The artful tempter plies the slavish hour,
And works the gudgeon now within his pow'r;
Then tips his fellow statesman, “He'll assume
New modes of thinking in the drawing-room;
See idle dreams of greatness strike his eyes,
See pensions, ribbons, coronets arise.”
“The man, whom labour only could delight,
Shall loiter all the day, and feast all night:
Who, mild, did once the kindest nature boast,
Unmov'd shall riot at the orphan's cost;
To pleasures vile, that health and fame destroy,
Yield the domestic charm, the social joy.
See, charm'd no more with Maro's rural page,
He slumbers over Lucan's free-born rage.
Each action in inverted lights is seen;
Meanness, frugality; and freedom, spleen;
How foolish Cato! Cæsar how divine!
In spite of Tully, friend to Catilline.”
Thus to each fair idea long unknown,
The slave of each man's vices and his own,
Enroll'd a member of the hireling tribe,
He tow'rs to villany's last act, a bribe,
And turns to make his ruin'd fortunes clear,
Or gamester, bully, jobber, pimp, or peer;
Till, late refracted through a purer air,
The beams of royal favour fall elsewhere:
Lo, vile, obscure, he ends his bustling day,
All stain'd the lustre of his orient ray;
And envies, poor, unpitied, scorn'd by all,
Marchmont the glories of a gen'rous fall.
Such sad examples can this land afford!
Why 'tis the history of many a lord.
What boots it how they die or how they live?
Then weep, my friend, when wicked wealth you find,
To change the species of the virtuous mind.
You've doubtless heard how 'twas a statesman's way,
Whene'er he would oblige, that is, betray,
Invited first the destin'd prey to dine,
Then whisper'd in his ear, “You must be fine:
Fine clothes, gay equipage, a splendid board
Give youth a lustre, and become a lord.
Why loiter meanly in paternal grounds,
To neighbours owe thy ease, thy health to hounds?
Go roam about, in gilded chariot hurl'd;
Make friends of strangers, child, and learn the world:
These kind instructors teach you best of any,
The wise Sir William and the good Lord Fanny.”
Guiltless he hears of pension and of place,
Then sinks in honour as he swells in lace;
Each hardy virtue yields, and, day by day,
Melts in the sunshine of a court away.
138
He wonders why he dares not tell his mind;
Feels the last footsteps of retiring grace,
And virtuous blushes lingering on his face:
The artful tempter plies the slavish hour,
And works the gudgeon now within his pow'r;
Then tips his fellow statesman, “He'll assume
New modes of thinking in the drawing-room;
See idle dreams of greatness strike his eyes,
See pensions, ribbons, coronets arise.”
“The man, whom labour only could delight,
Shall loiter all the day, and feast all night:
Who, mild, did once the kindest nature boast,
Unmov'd shall riot at the orphan's cost;
To pleasures vile, that health and fame destroy,
Yield the domestic charm, the social joy.
See, charm'd no more with Maro's rural page,
He slumbers over Lucan's free-born rage.
Each action in inverted lights is seen;
Meanness, frugality; and freedom, spleen;
How foolish Cato! Cæsar how divine!
In spite of Tully, friend to Catilline.”
Thus to each fair idea long unknown,
The slave of each man's vices and his own,
Enroll'd a member of the hireling tribe,
He tow'rs to villany's last act, a bribe,
And turns to make his ruin'd fortunes clear,
Or gamester, bully, jobber, pimp, or peer;
Till, late refracted through a purer air,
The beams of royal favour fall elsewhere:
Lo, vile, obscure, he ends his bustling day,
All stain'd the lustre of his orient ray;
And envies, poor, unpitied, scorn'd by all,
Marchmont the glories of a gen'rous fall.
Such sad examples can this land afford!
Why 'tis the history of many a lord.
But you, perhaps, think odd whate'er I say;
Yet drink with such originals each day.
Then censure me no more, too daring friend,
Whom ‘scandalum magnatum’ may offend.
How poor a figure should a poet make,
Ta'en into custody for scribbling's sake?
Ah how! (you know the muses never pay)
With all his verses earn five pounds a-day?
Leave we to Pope each knave of high degree,
Sing we such rules as suit or you or me.
Then, first, into no other's secrets pry;
To such be deaf your ear, be blind your eye:
Of these, unask'd, why should you claim a share?
But keep these safe entrusted to your care:
For this, beware the cunning low design,
That takes advantage of your rage or wine;
For rage no pause of cooler thought affords,
Is rash, intemp'rate, headlong in its words.
Lock fast your lips, then guard whate'er you say,
Lest in the fit of passion you betray;
And dread the wretch, who boasts the fatal pow'r
To cheat in friendship's unsuspecting hour.
Yet drink with such originals each day.
Then censure me no more, too daring friend,
Whom ‘scandalum magnatum’ may offend.
How poor a figure should a poet make,
Ta'en into custody for scribbling's sake?
Ah how! (you know the muses never pay)
With all his verses earn five pounds a-day?
Leave we to Pope each knave of high degree,
Sing we such rules as suit or you or me.
Then, first, into no other's secrets pry;
To such be deaf your ear, be blind your eye:
Of these, unask'd, why should you claim a share?
But keep these safe entrusted to your care:
139
That takes advantage of your rage or wine;
For rage no pause of cooler thought affords,
Is rash, intemp'rate, headlong in its words.
Lock fast your lips, then guard whate'er you say,
Lest in the fit of passion you betray;
And dread the wretch, who boasts the fatal pow'r
To cheat in friendship's unsuspecting hour.
There is a certain pleasing force that binds,
Faster than chains do slaves, two willing minds.
Tempers oppos'd each may itself control,
And melt two varying natures in one soul.
This made two brothers different humours hit,
Tho' one had probity, and one had wit.
Of sober manners this, and plain good sense,
Avoided cards, wine, company, expense:
Safe from the tempting fatal sex withdrew,
Nor made advances farther than a bow.
A diff'rent train of life his twin pursues;
Lov'd pictures, books, (nay authors write) the stews,
A mistress, op'ra, play, each darling theme;
To scribble, above all, his joy supreme.
Must these two brothers always meet to scold,
Or quarrel, like to Jove's fam'd twins of old?
Each yielding, mutual, could each other please,
And drew life's yoke with tolerable ease:
This, thinking mirth not always in the wrong,
Would sometimes condescend to hear a song;
And that, fatigu'd with his exalted fits,
His beauties, gewgaws, whirlegigs and wits,
Would leave them all, far happier to regale
With prose and friendship o'er a pot of ale.
Then to thy friend's opinion sometimes yield,
And seem to lose, although thou gain'st the field;
Nor, proud that thy superior sense be shown,
Rail at his studies, and extol your own.
Faster than chains do slaves, two willing minds.
Tempers oppos'd each may itself control,
And melt two varying natures in one soul.
This made two brothers different humours hit,
Tho' one had probity, and one had wit.
Of sober manners this, and plain good sense,
Avoided cards, wine, company, expense:
Safe from the tempting fatal sex withdrew,
Nor made advances farther than a bow.
A diff'rent train of life his twin pursues;
Lov'd pictures, books, (nay authors write) the stews,
A mistress, op'ra, play, each darling theme;
To scribble, above all, his joy supreme.
Must these two brothers always meet to scold,
Or quarrel, like to Jove's fam'd twins of old?
Each yielding, mutual, could each other please,
And drew life's yoke with tolerable ease:
This, thinking mirth not always in the wrong,
Would sometimes condescend to hear a song;
And that, fatigu'd with his exalted fits,
His beauties, gewgaws, whirlegigs and wits,
Would leave them all, far happier to regale
With prose and friendship o'er a pot of ale.
Then to thy friend's opinion sometimes yield,
And seem to lose, although thou gain'st the field;
Nor, proud that thy superior sense be shown,
Rail at his studies, and extol your own.
For when Aurora weeps the balmy dew,
(And dreams, as rev'rend dreamers tell, are true)
Sir George my shoulder slaps, just in the time
When some rebellious word consents to rhyme:
Sudden my verses take the rude alarm,
New-coin'd, and from the mint of fancy warm:
I start, I stare, I question with my eyes;
At once the whole poetic vision flies.
Up, up, exclaims the Knight; the season fair;
See how serene the sky, how calm the air;
Hark! from the hills the cheerful horns rebound,
And echo propagates the jovial sound;
The certain hound in thought his prey pursues,
The scent lies warm, and loads the tainted dews,
I quit my couch, and cheerfully obey,
Content to let the younker have his way;
I mount my courser, fleeter than the wind,
And leave the rage of poetry behind.
But when, the day in healthful labour lost,
We eat our supper earn'd at common cost;
When each frank tongue speaks out without control,
And the free heart expatiates o'er the bowl;
Though all love prose, my poetry finds grace,
And, pleased, I chant the glories of the chace.
(And dreams, as rev'rend dreamers tell, are true)
Sir George my shoulder slaps, just in the time
When some rebellious word consents to rhyme:
Sudden my verses take the rude alarm,
New-coin'd, and from the mint of fancy warm:
I start, I stare, I question with my eyes;
At once the whole poetic vision flies.
Up, up, exclaims the Knight; the season fair;
See how serene the sky, how calm the air;
Hark! from the hills the cheerful horns rebound,
And echo propagates the jovial sound;
The certain hound in thought his prey pursues,
The scent lies warm, and loads the tainted dews,
140
Content to let the younker have his way;
I mount my courser, fleeter than the wind,
And leave the rage of poetry behind.
But when, the day in healthful labour lost,
We eat our supper earn'd at common cost;
When each frank tongue speaks out without control,
And the free heart expatiates o'er the bowl;
Though all love prose, my poetry finds grace,
And, pleased, I chant the glories of the chace.
Of old, when Scotia's sons for empire fought,
Ere avarice had debased each generous thought,
Ere yet, each manlier exercise forgot,
One-half had learned to dose, one-half to vote,
Each hardy toil confirmed their dawning age,
And mimic fights inspired to martial rage:
'Twas theirs with certain speed the dart to send,
With youthful force the stubborn yew to bend;
O'ercame with early arm the fiercest floods,
Or ranged midst chilling snows the pathless woods;
Toiled for the savage boar on which they fed:
'Twas thus the chief of Bannockburn was bred;
That gave (not polished then below mankind)
Strength to the limbs, and vigour to the mind.
The smiling dame, in those victorious days,
Was woo'd by valour, not seduced by praise;
Who ne'er did fears, but for her country, feel;
And never saw her lover, but in steel;
Could make a Douglas' stubborn bosom yield,
And send her hero raging to the field;
Heard kind the honest warrior's one-tongued vow,
Pleased with a genuine heart, as H**** is now.
How would the generous lass detest to see
An essenced fopling puling o'er his tea;
Ah! how distasteful of the mimic show,
Disdain the false appearance as a foe?
To greet, unfolding every social charm,
Her soldier from the field of glory warm.
Ere avarice had debased each generous thought,
Ere yet, each manlier exercise forgot,
One-half had learned to dose, one-half to vote,
Each hardy toil confirmed their dawning age,
And mimic fights inspired to martial rage:
'Twas theirs with certain speed the dart to send,
With youthful force the stubborn yew to bend;
O'ercame with early arm the fiercest floods,
Or ranged midst chilling snows the pathless woods;
Toiled for the savage boar on which they fed:
'Twas thus the chief of Bannockburn was bred;
That gave (not polished then below mankind)
Strength to the limbs, and vigour to the mind.
The smiling dame, in those victorious days,
Was woo'd by valour, not seduced by praise;
Who ne'er did fears, but for her country, feel;
And never saw her lover, but in steel;
Could make a Douglas' stubborn bosom yield,
And send her hero raging to the field;
Heard kind the honest warrior's one-tongued vow,
Pleased with a genuine heart, as H**** is now.
How would the generous lass detest to see
An essenced fopling puling o'er his tea;
Ah! how distasteful of the mimic show,
Disdain the false appearance as a foe?
To greet, unfolding every social charm,
Her soldier from the field of glory warm.
But now, alas! these generous aims are o'er;
Each foe insults, and Britain fights no more.
Yet humbler tasks may claim the patriot's toil:
Who aids her laws no more, may mend her soil.
Since, to be happy, man must ne'er be still,
The internal void let peaceful labours fill;
When kind amusements hours of fame employ,
The working mind subsides to sober joy.
Behold, in fair autumnal honours spread,
The wheaten garland wreath the laurell'd head;
Where stagnant waves did in dull lakes appear,
Rich harvests wave, the bounty of the year;
In barren heaths, where summer never smiled,
The rural city rises o'er the wild;
Along the cool canal, or shooting grove,
Disport the sons of mirth and gamesome love.
Each foe insults, and Britain fights no more.
Yet humbler tasks may claim the patriot's toil:
Who aids her laws no more, may mend her soil.
Since, to be happy, man must ne'er be still,
The internal void let peaceful labours fill;
When kind amusements hours of fame employ,
The working mind subsides to sober joy.
Behold, in fair autumnal honours spread,
The wheaten garland wreath the laurell'd head;
Where stagnant waves did in dull lakes appear,
Rich harvests wave, the bounty of the year;
141
The rural city rises o'er the wild;
Along the cool canal, or shooting grove,
Disport the sons of mirth and gamesome love.
It now remains I counsel, if indeed
My counsel, friend, can stand thee ought in stead.
Judge well of whom you speak; nor will you find
It always safe to tell each man your mind.
Even honesty regard to safety owes;
Nor need it publish all it thinks and knows.
The eternal questioner shun: a certain rule,
There is no blab like to the questioning fool;
Even scarce before you turn yourself about,
Whate'er he hears his leaky tongue runs out;
The word elanced no longer we control,
Once sallied forth, it bursts from pole to pole.
My counsel, friend, can stand thee ought in stead.
Judge well of whom you speak; nor will you find
It always safe to tell each man your mind.
Even honesty regard to safety owes;
Nor need it publish all it thinks and knows.
The eternal questioner shun: a certain rule,
There is no blab like to the questioning fool;
Even scarce before you turn yourself about,
Whate'er he hears his leaky tongue runs out;
The word elanced no longer we control,
Once sallied forth, it bursts from pole to pole.
Guard well your heart; ah! still be beauty-proof,
Beneath fair friendship's venerable roof;
What though she shines the brightest of the fair,
A form even such as Wallace self might wear?
What though no rocks nor marble arm her breast,
A yielding Helen to her Trojan guest!
The dangerous combat fly; why wouldst thou gain
A shameful conquest won by years of pain?
For know, the short-lived guilty rapture past,
Reflection comes, a dreadful judge at last:
'Tis that avenges (such its pointed stings)
The poor man's cause on statesmen and on kings.
Beneath fair friendship's venerable roof;
What though she shines the brightest of the fair,
A form even such as Wallace self might wear?
What though no rocks nor marble arm her breast,
A yielding Helen to her Trojan guest!
The dangerous combat fly; why wouldst thou gain
A shameful conquest won by years of pain?
For know, the short-lived guilty rapture past,
Reflection comes, a dreadful judge at last:
'Tis that avenges (such its pointed stings)
The poor man's cause on statesmen and on kings.
To praise aright, is sure no easy art;
Yet prudence here directs the wise man's part.
Let long experience then confirm the friend,
Dive to his depth of soul, ere you commend.
Should you extol the fool but slightly known,
Guiltless you blush for follies not your own.
Alas! we err; for villains can betray,
And gold corrupt the saint of yesterday.
Then yield, convicted by the public voice,
And frankly own the weakness of your choice;
So greater credit shall your judgment gain,
When you defend the worth that knaves arraign;
Whose soul secure, confiding in your aid,
Hopes the kind shelter of your friendly shade;
When envy on his spotless name shall fall,
Whose venomed tooth corrupts and blackens all;
This mutual help the kindred virtues claim,
For calumny eats on from fame to fame.
When o'er thy neighbour's roof the flames aspire,
Say, claims it not thy care to quench the fire?
When envy rages, small the space betwixt,
In worth allied, thy character is next.
Yet prudence here directs the wise man's part.
Let long experience then confirm the friend,
Dive to his depth of soul, ere you commend.
Should you extol the fool but slightly known,
Guiltless you blush for follies not your own.
Alas! we err; for villains can betray,
And gold corrupt the saint of yesterday.
Then yield, convicted by the public voice,
And frankly own the weakness of your choice;
So greater credit shall your judgment gain,
When you defend the worth that knaves arraign;
142
Hopes the kind shelter of your friendly shade;
When envy on his spotless name shall fall,
Whose venomed tooth corrupts and blackens all;
This mutual help the kindred virtues claim,
For calumny eats on from fame to fame.
When o'er thy neighbour's roof the flames aspire,
Say, claims it not thy care to quench the fire?
When envy rages, small the space betwixt,
In worth allied, thy character is next.
Fired at the first with what the great impart,
Frank we give way, and yield up all the heart.
How sweet the converse of the potent friend!
How charming when the mighty condescend!
The smile so affable, the courtly word!—
And, as we would a mistress, trust a lord.
The experienced dread the cheat; with prudent care
Distrust alike the powerful and the fair.
Thou, when thy vessel flies before the wind,
Think on the peaceful port thou left behind;
Though all serene, yet bear a humble sail,
Lest veering greatness shift the treacherous gale.
How various man! yet such are nature's laws,
With powerful force each different humour draws:
The grave the cheerful hate; these hate the sad;
Your sober wise man thinks the wit quite mad;
He, happy too in wit's inverted rule,
Thinks every sober wise man more than fool;
Whose active mind from toil to toil can run,
And join the rising to the setting sun,
Like Philip's son, for fame pursuing gains,
While yet one penny unsubdued remains;
Admires how lovers waste the inactive day,
Sigh, midst the fair, their gentle souls away.
The tuneful bard, who boasts his varied strains,
Shares with the lark the glory of the plains,
Whose life the impression of no sorrow knows,
So smoothly calm, he scarcely feels it flows.
In vocal woods each fond conceit pursues,
Pleased with the jingling bauble of a muse;
Pities the toiling madman's airy scheme,
When greatness sickens o'er the ambitious dream;
Each boon companion, who the night prolongs,
In noise and rapture, festivals and songs,
Condemns the graver mortal for an ass,
Who dares refuse his bumper and his lass;
Still urging on, what boots it that you swear
You dread the vapours and nocturnal air;
Yet grant a little to the social vine,
Full on the friend with cloudless visage shine,
Oft sullen silence speaks a want of sense,
Or folly lurks beneath the wise pretence.
Is there severe, who baulks the genial hour?
He's not so sober, were he not so sour.
Frank we give way, and yield up all the heart.
How sweet the converse of the potent friend!
How charming when the mighty condescend!
The smile so affable, the courtly word!—
And, as we would a mistress, trust a lord.
The experienced dread the cheat; with prudent care
Distrust alike the powerful and the fair.
Thou, when thy vessel flies before the wind,
Think on the peaceful port thou left behind;
Though all serene, yet bear a humble sail,
Lest veering greatness shift the treacherous gale.
How various man! yet such are nature's laws,
With powerful force each different humour draws:
The grave the cheerful hate; these hate the sad;
Your sober wise man thinks the wit quite mad;
He, happy too in wit's inverted rule,
Thinks every sober wise man more than fool;
Whose active mind from toil to toil can run,
And join the rising to the setting sun,
Like Philip's son, for fame pursuing gains,
While yet one penny unsubdued remains;
Admires how lovers waste the inactive day,
Sigh, midst the fair, their gentle souls away.
The tuneful bard, who boasts his varied strains,
Shares with the lark the glory of the plains,
Whose life the impression of no sorrow knows,
So smoothly calm, he scarcely feels it flows.
In vocal woods each fond conceit pursues,
Pleased with the jingling bauble of a muse;
Pities the toiling madman's airy scheme,
When greatness sickens o'er the ambitious dream;
Each boon companion, who the night prolongs,
In noise and rapture, festivals and songs,
Condemns the graver mortal for an ass,
Who dares refuse his bumper and his lass;
Still urging on, what boots it that you swear
You dread the vapours and nocturnal air;
Yet grant a little to the social vine,
Full on the friend with cloudless visage shine,
143
Or folly lurks beneath the wise pretence.
Is there severe, who baulks the genial hour?
He's not so sober, were he not so sour.
But, above all, I charge thee o'er and o'er,
Fair peace through all her secret haunts explore;
Consult the learned in life (these best advise),
The good in this more knowing than the wise;
Their sacred science learn, and what the art
To guard the sallies of the impetuous heart;
With temper due the internal poise to keep,
Not soaring impudent, nor servile creep;
How sure thyself, thy friends, thy God to please,
Firm health without, within unshaken peace;
Lest keen desire, still making new demands,
Should raise new foes unnumbered on thy hands;
Or hope, or fear, inspire the unmanly groan,
For things of little use, perhaps of none:
Who best can purchase virtue's righteous dower,
The sage with wisdom, or the king with power:
Or if the mighty blessing stands confined
To the chaste nature and the heaven-taught mind.
And chief the important lesson wise attend,
What makes thee to thyself thyself's best friend:
If gold a pure tranquillity bestows,
Or greatness can insure a night's repose;
Or must we seek it in the secret road
That leads through virtue to the peaceful God;
A shaded walk, where, separate from the throng,
We steal through life all unperceived along.
Fair peace through all her secret haunts explore;
Consult the learned in life (these best advise),
The good in this more knowing than the wise;
Their sacred science learn, and what the art
To guard the sallies of the impetuous heart;
With temper due the internal poise to keep,
Not soaring impudent, nor servile creep;
How sure thyself, thy friends, thy God to please,
Firm health without, within unshaken peace;
Lest keen desire, still making new demands,
Should raise new foes unnumbered on thy hands;
Or hope, or fear, inspire the unmanly groan,
For things of little use, perhaps of none:
Who best can purchase virtue's righteous dower,
The sage with wisdom, or the king with power:
Or if the mighty blessing stands confined
To the chaste nature and the heaven-taught mind.
And chief the important lesson wise attend,
What makes thee to thyself thyself's best friend:
If gold a pure tranquillity bestows,
Or greatness can insure a night's repose;
Or must we seek it in the secret road
That leads through virtue to the peaceful God;
A shaded walk, where, separate from the throng,
We steal through life all unperceived along.
For me, afraid of life's tempestuous gale,
I make to port, and crowd on all my sail.
Soon may the peaceful grove and sheltered seat
Receive me weary in the kind retreat;
Blest if my **** be the destined shade,
Where childhood sported, of no ills afraid,
Ere youth full-grown its daring wing displayed.
That often crossed by life's intestine war,
Foresaw that day of triumph from afar,
When warring passions mingling in the fray,
Had drawn the youthful wanderer from his way:
But recollecting the short error, mourned,
And duteous to the warning voice returned.
No more the passions hurrying into strife,
My soul enjoys the gentler calms of life.
Like Tityrus, blessed among the rural shades,
Whose hallowed round no guilty wish invades;
No joy tumultuous, no depressing care;
All that I want is Amaryllis there;
Where silver Forth each fair meander leads
Through breathing harvests and empurpled meads;
Whose russet swains enjoy the golden dream,
And thankful bless the plenty-giving stream.
There youth, convinced, foregoes each daring claim,
And settling manhood takes a surer aim;
Till age accomplish late the fair design,
And calm possess the good, if age be mine.
What thinkst thou, then, my friend, shall be my cares,
My daily studies, and my nightly prayers?
Of the propitious Power this boon I crave,
Still to preserve the little that I have;
Nor yet repugnance at the lot express,
Should fate decree that little to be less;
That what remains of life to heaven I live,
If life, indeed, has any time to give:
Or, if the fugitive will no longer stay,
To part as friends should do, and slip away:
Thankful to heaven, or for the good supplied,
To heaven submissive for the good denied,
Renounce the household charm, a bliss divine!
Heaven never meant for me, and I resign;
In other joys the allotted hours improve,
And gain in friendship what was lost in love:
Some comfort snatched, as each vain year returned,
When nature suffered, or when friendship mourned,
Of all that stock so fatally bereft,
Once youth's proud boast, alas! the little left;
These friends, in youth beloved, in manhood tried,
Age must not change through avarice or pride.
For me let wisdom's sacred fountain flow,
The cordial draught that sweetens every woe;
Let fortune kind the “just enough” provide,
Nor dubious float on hope's uncertain tide;
Add thoughts composed, affections ever even.—
Thus far suffices to have asked of heaven,
Who, in the dispensations of a day,
Grants life, grants death; now gives, now takes away;
To scaffolds oft the ribboned spoiler brings;
Takes power from statesmen, and their thrones from kings;
From the unthankful heart the bliss decreed—
But leaves the man of worth still blessed indeed.
Be life heaven's gift, be mine the care to find
Still equal to itself the balanced mind;
Fame, beauty, wealth forgot, each human toy,
With thoughtful quiet pleased, and virtuous joy;
In these, and these alone, supremely blest,
When fools and madmen scramble for the rest.
I make to port, and crowd on all my sail.
Soon may the peaceful grove and sheltered seat
Receive me weary in the kind retreat;
Blest if my **** be the destined shade,
Where childhood sported, of no ills afraid,
Ere youth full-grown its daring wing displayed.
That often crossed by life's intestine war,
Foresaw that day of triumph from afar,
When warring passions mingling in the fray,
Had drawn the youthful wanderer from his way:
But recollecting the short error, mourned,
And duteous to the warning voice returned.
No more the passions hurrying into strife,
My soul enjoys the gentler calms of life.
Like Tityrus, blessed among the rural shades,
Whose hallowed round no guilty wish invades;
No joy tumultuous, no depressing care;
All that I want is Amaryllis there;
144
Through breathing harvests and empurpled meads;
Whose russet swains enjoy the golden dream,
And thankful bless the plenty-giving stream.
There youth, convinced, foregoes each daring claim,
And settling manhood takes a surer aim;
Till age accomplish late the fair design,
And calm possess the good, if age be mine.
What thinkst thou, then, my friend, shall be my cares,
My daily studies, and my nightly prayers?
Of the propitious Power this boon I crave,
Still to preserve the little that I have;
Nor yet repugnance at the lot express,
Should fate decree that little to be less;
That what remains of life to heaven I live,
If life, indeed, has any time to give:
Or, if the fugitive will no longer stay,
To part as friends should do, and slip away:
Thankful to heaven, or for the good supplied,
To heaven submissive for the good denied,
Renounce the household charm, a bliss divine!
Heaven never meant for me, and I resign;
In other joys the allotted hours improve,
And gain in friendship what was lost in love:
Some comfort snatched, as each vain year returned,
When nature suffered, or when friendship mourned,
Of all that stock so fatally bereft,
Once youth's proud boast, alas! the little left;
These friends, in youth beloved, in manhood tried,
Age must not change through avarice or pride.
For me let wisdom's sacred fountain flow,
The cordial draught that sweetens every woe;
Let fortune kind the “just enough” provide,
Nor dubious float on hope's uncertain tide;
Add thoughts composed, affections ever even.—
Thus far suffices to have asked of heaven,
Who, in the dispensations of a day,
Grants life, grants death; now gives, now takes away;
To scaffolds oft the ribboned spoiler brings;
Takes power from statesmen, and their thrones from kings;
From the unthankful heart the bliss decreed—
But leaves the man of worth still blessed indeed.
Be life heaven's gift, be mine the care to find
Still equal to itself the balanced mind;
Fame, beauty, wealth forgot, each human toy,
With thoughtful quiet pleased, and virtuous joy;
In these, and these alone, supremely blest,
When fools and madmen scramble for the rest.
Probably Ellinor, daughter of Colonel Agnew of Lochryan. She married Sir Thomas Wallace of Craigie, Bart., but lived separate from him on account of temper. There are two prints of her. One is inscribed “Lady Wallace. W. De Nune ad vivam, pinxt. 1744. Forbes, fecit. Sold by Charles Esplen at the Crown and Anchor in High Street, Edinburgh;” the other, “The Lady Wallace. J. Davidson, pinxt. Ric. Cooper, fecit.” The original picture of the last is at Barnbarroch.
| The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour | |