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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AN EPISTLE from ABERDEEN
, TO HIS GRACE JOHN Duke of Argyll. |
 | Major Pack's Poetical Remains |  |
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AN EPISTLE from ABERDEEN , TO HIS GRACE JOHN Duke of Argyll.
September 4. 1728.
Dives, inops, Romæ, seu fons ita jusserit exul;
Quisquis erit Vitæ scribam color ------
Hor. Sat. 1. Lib. 2.
Quisquis erit Vitæ scribam color ------
Hor. Sat. 1. Lib. 2.
When you, my Lord, these Moral-Strains shall read,
You'll think me re-baptiz'd within the Tweed:
No Kirk-Professor graver could declaim,
Were some prim Sister's Body brought to shame.
You'll think me re-baptiz'd within the Tweed:
No Kirk-Professor graver could declaim,
Were some prim Sister's Body brought to shame.
I, who was wont in am'rous Airs to sing,
The rival Charms of Colleton and Spring;
(In one respect, the Rivals did agree,
As each seem'd fond, and both prov'd false to me;
But this Distinction Colleton's thy Due,
The Fairest, Fondest, Falsest of the two:
When Coquetry once taints a Woman's Mind,
Nor Benefits oblige, nor Oaths can bind;
Desire of Conquest is her only Aim,
And Lust itself is but a second Flame:)
Instructed by long Practice in the Sex,
That all who 're form'd to please, are born to vex.
At once I tore Love's Arrows from my Heart,
And Time and Patience have allay'd the Smart,
Not that now Frozen, who so lately Burn'd,
To Hate, or low Revenge, my Thoughts are turn'd.
When I recall to Mind each gentle Grace,
That play'd round Colle's Neck and Waist and Face,
To Hate's Unnat'ral, to Revenge were Base:
That glowing Bosom, those bewitching Eyes,
Will plead Excuse for all her Perjuries.
With soft Complaisency I still survey,
A tender Virgin blooming in her May;
Melt at the Fires of Female Charms and Youth,
But scarce in Haste shall doat upon their Truth.
Wisely they jilt us to inhance the Joy,
For tedious Constancy they think might cloy:
To stronger Nerves the Tryal I resign,
And hang my Arms up, now, at Venus' Shrine.
The Muse hereafter too shall bend her Cares,
To cure my Vanities, not flatter Theirs.
The rival Charms of Colleton and Spring;
14
As each seem'd fond, and both prov'd false to me;
But this Distinction Colleton's thy Due,
The Fairest, Fondest, Falsest of the two:
When Coquetry once taints a Woman's Mind,
Nor Benefits oblige, nor Oaths can bind;
Desire of Conquest is her only Aim,
And Lust itself is but a second Flame:)
Instructed by long Practice in the Sex,
That all who 're form'd to please, are born to vex.
At once I tore Love's Arrows from my Heart,
And Time and Patience have allay'd the Smart,
Not that now Frozen, who so lately Burn'd,
To Hate, or low Revenge, my Thoughts are turn'd.
When I recall to Mind each gentle Grace,
That play'd round Colle's Neck and Waist and Face,
To Hate's Unnat'ral, to Revenge were Base:
15
Will plead Excuse for all her Perjuries.
With soft Complaisency I still survey,
A tender Virgin blooming in her May;
Melt at the Fires of Female Charms and Youth,
But scarce in Haste shall doat upon their Truth.
Wisely they jilt us to inhance the Joy,
For tedious Constancy they think might cloy:
To stronger Nerves the Tryal I resign,
And hang my Arms up, now, at Venus' Shrine.
The Muse hereafter too shall bend her Cares,
To cure my Vanities, not flatter Theirs.
From the worst Prospect on this Northern Shore.
(Which others as a Banishment deplore)
I turn my View, my Conduct to explore:
Retir'd, reflect with Profit, and at Ease,
On what has hurt, and what might well displease.
Where frailer Nature had more frequent fail'd,
And where ill Custom had by Stealth prevail'd;
The rash Resolve, and the too prompt Reply,
The hasty Faults that pass'd unheeded by,
In Wine's hot Rage, or Lust's opprobrious Flame,
And each Occasion of Offence, or Blame,
To conscious Reason's strict Tribunal brought;
Receive the Sentence of severer Thought.
Not that to different Extremes I run;
Constraint alike, and Licence I would shun;
In virtuous Freedom I possess my Soul,
And guide my Passions rather than controul.
Thus, Far remov'd from Objects of Desire;
Or the warm Joys that Friendship does inspire;
Serene and calm, from Innocence I find,
Perpetual Sun-shine in my chearful Mind.
(Which others as a Banishment deplore)
I turn my View, my Conduct to explore:
Retir'd, reflect with Profit, and at Ease,
On what has hurt, and what might well displease.
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And where ill Custom had by Stealth prevail'd;
The rash Resolve, and the too prompt Reply,
The hasty Faults that pass'd unheeded by,
In Wine's hot Rage, or Lust's opprobrious Flame,
And each Occasion of Offence, or Blame,
To conscious Reason's strict Tribunal brought;
Receive the Sentence of severer Thought.
Not that to different Extremes I run;
Constraint alike, and Licence I would shun;
In virtuous Freedom I possess my Soul,
And guide my Passions rather than controul.
Thus, Far remov'd from Objects of Desire;
Or the warm Joys that Friendship does inspire;
Serene and calm, from Innocence I find,
Perpetual Sun-shine in my chearful Mind.
The World in ev'ry Scene, my Lord, supplies,
Something to make one Happier, or more Wise,
If Observation, but the Hint improve,
And Head-strong Will, does not at Random rove.
'Tis Self-sufficiency is still our Bane;
We work our Mis'ry, with our busy Brain.
Could we on Providence repose our Cares,
Less Numbers would complain of their Affairs;
And what we often Checks of Fortune call,
Are kind Restraints that save us from a Fall.
Something to make one Happier, or more Wise,
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And Head-strong Will, does not at Random rove.
'Tis Self-sufficiency is still our Bane;
We work our Mis'ry, with our busy Brain.
Could we on Providence repose our Cares,
Less Numbers would complain of their Affairs;
And what we often Checks of Fortune call,
Are kind Restraints that save us from a Fall.
On the cool Banks of Dee, as late I stray'd,
By a long Train of rambling Thoughts convey'd,
A sudden Incident surpriz'd my Sight,
And interrupted my dear dull Delight,
Else o'er the Brink the musing Fool had run,
And the next fatal Step had been undone.
Intent thus on a Mistress, or a Wife,
Or any serious Trifle of our Life,
Let Humour, or let Prudence be our Guide,
Cautious, or Wild, alike our Feet may slide;
For all our Plans, at best, are Waking-Dreams,
And Chance oft, luckily, o'erturns our Schemes.
By a long Train of rambling Thoughts convey'd,
A sudden Incident surpriz'd my Sight,
And interrupted my dear dull Delight,
Else o'er the Brink the musing Fool had run,
And the next fatal Step had been undone.
Intent thus on a Mistress, or a Wife,
Or any serious Trifle of our Life,
Let Humour, or let Prudence be our Guide,
Cautious, or Wild, alike our Feet may slide;
For all our Plans, at best, are Waking-Dreams,
And Chance oft, luckily, o'erturns our Schemes.
| Major Pack's Poetical Remains | |