Major Pack's Poetical Remains Published from his Original Manuscripts. To which are Added, translations from Catullus, Tibullus, and Ovid. With an Essay on the Roman elegiac poets, &c. [by Richardson Pack] |
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A LETTER from Exmouth,
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 | Major Pack's Poetical Remains |  |
7
A LETTER from Exmouth,
TO Mr. TITTLEY, Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, and Secretary to Mr. Hedges at the Court of Turin.
While my soft Hours steal on with downy Feet,
And daily new successive Joys I meet;
From various Objects, that by turns conspire,
Alike to raise and gratify Desire;
Yet not unmindful of an absent Friend,
To Thee—dear Tittley—I my Thoughts commend.
To Thee, who free from Business and from Strife.
Tread the smooth Paths of Philosophic Life,
Chearful and wise may'st thou still persevere,
Nor think a giddy World e'er worth thy Care.
And daily new successive Joys I meet;
From various Objects, that by turns conspire,
Alike to raise and gratify Desire;
Yet not unmindful of an absent Friend,
To Thee—dear Tittley—I my Thoughts commend.
To Thee, who free from Business and from Strife.
Tread the smooth Paths of Philosophic Life,
8
Nor think a giddy World e'er worth thy Care.
Tho' Paint and Sculpture here their Gifts refuse,
Nor op'ning Palaces invite my Muse;
The noble Treats of Harmony she finds,
And sweetest Music of according Minds,
Where all the Charities of social Life,
Contend to please with amiable Strife.
A well-spread Table to my Taste supplies,
With decent Plenty all that's good or nice;
And the rich Juice of Gallia's gen'rous Vine,
Or racy Cyder, emulous of Wine,
To many a sprightly Turn and Joke gives Birth,
Nor drowns our Reason whilst it flows our Mirth.
Then Books and Walks divide the vacant Time,
Unconscious all of Folly or of Crime.
Nor op'ning Palaces invite my Muse;
The noble Treats of Harmony she finds,
And sweetest Music of according Minds,
Where all the Charities of social Life,
Contend to please with amiable Strife.
A well-spread Table to my Taste supplies,
With decent Plenty all that's good or nice;
And the rich Juice of Gallia's gen'rous Vine,
Or racy Cyder, emulous of Wine,
To many a sprightly Turn and Joke gives Birth,
Nor drowns our Reason whilst it flows our Mirth.
Then Books and Walks divide the vacant Time,
Unconscious all of Folly or of Crime.
9
No lofty Tow'rs in awful Pride look down;
Nor Church nor Tholsel grace the Fisher-Town:
One antique Chapel on a rising Land,
Looks as it stood a Light-House from the Strand.
Here the rough Sailor on a Sabbath-Day,
Forgets to Swear, and surly learns to Pray:
Rows of neat Cottages are plac'd below,
And the lov'd Villa crowns the rural Show,
Whose sloping Gardens from on High survey,
The distant Mountains, and the neighb'ring Sea.
And wheresoe'er around the Sight is fixt,
It meets some varied Prospect sweetly mixt:
Here the fierce Ex drives on with rapid Force.
O'er Shelves and Rocks obnoxious to its Course:
There Hills and Groves are cheer'd by Western Gales,
And Venus' Myrtle blooms in all the Vales.
O! That with Addison my Muse could vie,
This happy Spot should rival Italy.
Nor Church nor Tholsel grace the Fisher-Town:
One antique Chapel on a rising Land,
Looks as it stood a Light-House from the Strand.
Here the rough Sailor on a Sabbath-Day,
Forgets to Swear, and surly learns to Pray:
Rows of neat Cottages are plac'd below,
And the lov'd Villa crowns the rural Show,
Whose sloping Gardens from on High survey,
The distant Mountains, and the neighb'ring Sea.
And wheresoe'er around the Sight is fixt,
It meets some varied Prospect sweetly mixt:
Here the fierce Ex drives on with rapid Force.
O'er Shelves and Rocks obnoxious to its Course:
10
And Venus' Myrtle blooms in all the Vales.
O! That with Addison my Muse could vie,
This happy Spot should rival Italy.
Once, heretofore, in this delicious Clime,
I past the Season of the flow'ry Prime;
Respir'd each Morn the Balmy vernal Air,
And breath'd it out again in Praise and Pray'r:
(For I am none of those, who think it poor,
To thank the God that gracious gave the Store;
Dull rather they, who never felt the Fires,
Th'exalted Joys which Gratitude inspires.)
But tho' th'inverted Year declining low'rs,
And the bleak Clouds descend in wintry Show'rs;
Eliza's Charms enliven so the Scene,
As if no change of Seasons here had been:
Her Eyes alone to me can well supply,
The Light and Heat that's wanting in the Sky.
Ah! would kind Love secure me this Retreat
And make my Wishes in her Arms compleat,
Int'rest should tempt, and Glory court in vain,
And Pride and Luxury unenvied Reign.
I past the Season of the flow'ry Prime;
Respir'd each Morn the Balmy vernal Air,
And breath'd it out again in Praise and Pray'r:
(For I am none of those, who think it poor,
To thank the God that gracious gave the Store;
Dull rather they, who never felt the Fires,
Th'exalted Joys which Gratitude inspires.)
But tho' th'inverted Year declining low'rs,
And the bleak Clouds descend in wintry Show'rs;
Eliza's Charms enliven so the Scene,
As if no change of Seasons here had been:
Her Eyes alone to me can well supply,
The Light and Heat that's wanting in the Sky.
11
And make my Wishes in her Arms compleat,
Int'rest should tempt, and Glory court in vain,
And Pride and Luxury unenvied Reign.
As up the steepy Cliff I lately climb'd,
To breathe my Muse (for by the Height sublim'd
Fancy takes Wing, and spreads her airy Flight,
O'er Earth, and Ocean, and the Realms of Light.)
Sudden I heard a rising Tempest roar,
And the swoln Surges burst upon the Shoar;
When lo! A Barque that whilom was so trim,
It seem'd the Surface of the Main to skim;
Became the Sport of ev'ry Wave and Wind,
Offer'd, methought, an Emblem to my Mind,
Of those Advent'rers on Ambition's Coast,
By Projects Shipwreck'd, or in Factions tost.
How blest, said I (and only blest is He)
Who never sails on Fortune's faithless Sea
Or if by Force, himself engag'd he find,
Trusts Virtue with the Steerage of his Mind;
Nor, while mad Hurricanes the World embroil,
Promotes the Ruin to divide the Spoil;
Looks down on Titles with superior State,
And dares be Honest, rather than be Great;
Firm and collected in himself can stand,
Nor acts, nor speaks, as others would Command.
Prepar'd for any Fate to which he's Born,
To wear a Laurel-Crown, or one of Thorn.
To breathe my Muse (for by the Height sublim'd
Fancy takes Wing, and spreads her airy Flight,
O'er Earth, and Ocean, and the Realms of Light.)
Sudden I heard a rising Tempest roar,
And the swoln Surges burst upon the Shoar;
When lo! A Barque that whilom was so trim,
It seem'd the Surface of the Main to skim;
Became the Sport of ev'ry Wave and Wind,
Offer'd, methought, an Emblem to my Mind,
Of those Advent'rers on Ambition's Coast,
By Projects Shipwreck'd, or in Factions tost.
How blest, said I (and only blest is He)
Who never sails on Fortune's faithless Sea
12
Trusts Virtue with the Steerage of his Mind;
Nor, while mad Hurricanes the World embroil,
Promotes the Ruin to divide the Spoil;
Looks down on Titles with superior State,
And dares be Honest, rather than be Great;
Firm and collected in himself can stand,
Nor acts, nor speaks, as others would Command.
Prepar'd for any Fate to which he's Born,
To wear a Laurel-Crown, or one of Thorn.
But what is this that strikes my ravish'd Ear;
Sure 'tis the Voice of Her I love so dear!
Wonder not then, I thus abruptly end,
And for my Mistress quit my Muse and Friend.
Sure 'tis the Voice of Her I love so dear!
Wonder not then, I thus abruptly end,
And for my Mistress quit my Muse and Friend.
Dec. 12. 1737.
R. P.
| Major Pack's Poetical Remains | |