Poems on Several Occasions by Samuel Wesley. The Second Edition, with Additions |
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TO A FRIEND, On his being chosen Member of Parliament.
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
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TO A FRIEND, On his being chosen Member of Parliament.
Accept, my Friend, this Scrawl without Offence,
Nor call it ('tis but once) Impertinence;
Which comes, according as you use your State,
Or to condole, or to congratulate.
Nothing but Truth without Disguise is here,
My Words as open, as my Thoughts sincere.
I speak not now as from the Sacred Gown,
Not in my Master's Name, but in my own;
Nor claim I Pow'r from Nature's fancy'd State
To rule my Rulers, and controll the Great;
Nor dream that in my Brain there Knowledge lies
To make the hoary Senator more wise:
But You are young, and may receive from Me
Maxims, I'm sure, of Good; I think, of Policy.
Nor call it ('tis but once) Impertinence;
Which comes, according as you use your State,
Or to condole, or to congratulate.
Nothing but Truth without Disguise is here,
My Words as open, as my Thoughts sincere.
I speak not now as from the Sacred Gown,
Not in my Master's Name, but in my own;
Nor claim I Pow'r from Nature's fancy'd State
To rule my Rulers, and controll the Great;
Nor dream that in my Brain there Knowledge lies
To make the hoary Senator more wise:
But You are young, and may receive from Me
Maxims, I'm sure, of Good; I think, of Policy.
A rising Sun your Morning Landskip gildes,
And glorious Hope the magick Prospect yields:
As yet you'll scarce believe that Shows so fair
Can end in desart Rocks and empty Air;
Yet there they'll end—
Unless You quit the Path by Crowds pursu'd,
Dare to be Just, and to be Great be Good;
Be True! nor seek the Mazes of Deceit,
The subtle Windings of the abject Great:
This Rule in Words and Acts and Looks pursue,
This first, this last, this middlemost, Be True!
If Friends or Factions for your Reasons call,
Or speak the real Truth, or not at all:
This only Choice can honest Virtue have,
Betwixt the blabbing Fool and lying Knave.
All seeming specious Likelihoods forego,
Which might have been the Case, but were not so.
Who dares to vent in Earth's and Heaven's Eye
A formal grave premeditated Lie,
Is sure a Rascal, tho' a Lord may claim
An useful priviledge to secure his Fame.
That yet to double Meanings You may bow,
No Moralist but Jesuits will allow:
No Gold, no Pow'r, no Machiavilian Skill
Can change the stubborn Bounds of Good and Ill;
They mock the strongest Arms against them bent,
And scorn to be repeal'd by Parliament.
And glorious Hope the magick Prospect yields:
As yet you'll scarce believe that Shows so fair
Can end in desart Rocks and empty Air;
Yet there they'll end—
Unless You quit the Path by Crowds pursu'd,
Dare to be Just, and to be Great be Good;
Be True! nor seek the Mazes of Deceit,
The subtle Windings of the abject Great:
This Rule in Words and Acts and Looks pursue,
This first, this last, this middlemost, Be True!
298
Or speak the real Truth, or not at all:
This only Choice can honest Virtue have,
Betwixt the blabbing Fool and lying Knave.
All seeming specious Likelihoods forego,
Which might have been the Case, but were not so.
Who dares to vent in Earth's and Heaven's Eye
A formal grave premeditated Lie,
Is sure a Rascal, tho' a Lord may claim
An useful priviledge to secure his Fame.
That yet to double Meanings You may bow,
No Moralist but Jesuits will allow:
No Gold, no Pow'r, no Machiavilian Skill
Can change the stubborn Bounds of Good and Ill;
They mock the strongest Arms against them bent,
And scorn to be repeal'd by Parliament.
Beware of Jest, it leaves a deadly Sting;
Your Fame, your Country, is a serious Thing.
Men oft with Patience will the Stroke endure,
Who ne'er forgive the Wantonness of Pow'r;
When Peace or War perhaps before them lies,
To sneer and joke our Patriots will arise.
So Pinkethman in Grief can Laughter raise:
By Dint of his impenetrable Face;
And yet, like partial Judges as we are,
We hiss the poor Buffoon, but clap the Senator.
Your Fame, your Country, is a serious Thing.
Men oft with Patience will the Stroke endure,
Who ne'er forgive the Wantonness of Pow'r;
When Peace or War perhaps before them lies,
To sneer and joke our Patriots will arise.
So Pinkethman in Grief can Laughter raise:
By Dint of his impenetrable Face;
And yet, like partial Judges as we are,
We hiss the poor Buffoon, but clap the Senator.
Nor trust too little nor too much your Head,
Nor prone to follow, nor resolv'd to lead:
Consider Things from Circumstances clear,
Without the Part which You yourself may bear:
Or think how fine your darling Schemes would show
If manag'd by a Rival, or a Foe:
Lest by self-Love your Judgment be betray'd,
Or slide, by wide Ambition giddy made,
Or fall, by factious State or bloodier Envy sway'd.
If once this Maxim to your Aid you call,
“Sincere Intention can atone for all,”
Virtue farewell! 'twill Wrong convert to Right,
And wash the darkest Ethiopian White:
No more your Eyes will with Abhorrence view
Sicilian Even-Song, or Paris' Barthol'mew.
But know, how great soe'er your Actions aim,
A Nation's Welfare, or a Monarch's Fame,
If e'er your Course from steady Virtue leans,
The End can never justify the Means.
No Bribes, no Tricks, no Violence is allow'd,
No private Knavery for the Publick Good.
As Demonstration sure is what I tell,
Tho' H***y may dispute, or Machiavel.
Nor prone to follow, nor resolv'd to lead:
Consider Things from Circumstances clear,
Without the Part which You yourself may bear:
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If manag'd by a Rival, or a Foe:
Lest by self-Love your Judgment be betray'd,
Or slide, by wide Ambition giddy made,
Or fall, by factious State or bloodier Envy sway'd.
If once this Maxim to your Aid you call,
“Sincere Intention can atone for all,”
Virtue farewell! 'twill Wrong convert to Right,
And wash the darkest Ethiopian White:
No more your Eyes will with Abhorrence view
Sicilian Even-Song, or Paris' Barthol'mew.
But know, how great soe'er your Actions aim,
A Nation's Welfare, or a Monarch's Fame,
If e'er your Course from steady Virtue leans,
The End can never justify the Means.
No Bribes, no Tricks, no Violence is allow'd,
No private Knavery for the Publick Good.
As Demonstration sure is what I tell,
Tho' H***y may dispute, or Machiavel.
In short, desert the Path by Crowds pursu'd,
Dare to be Just, and to be Great be Good.
For once believe a Politician's Voice,
Hear dying Wolsey when he mourns his Choice,
A Great Vain Man!—
Or view your much-lov'd Sommers soon decay'd,
Surviver of himself, a human Shade:
Or let your pitying Eye on Marlb'rough fall;
What boots the German sav'd, or routed Gaul?
Weigh well that boasted, that immortal Man,
And then be proud of Greatness if You can!
Dare to be Just, and to be Great be Good.
For once believe a Politician's Voice,
Hear dying Wolsey when he mourns his Choice,
A Great Vain Man!—
Or view your much-lov'd Sommers soon decay'd,
Surviver of himself, a human Shade:
Or let your pitying Eye on Marlb'rough fall;
What boots the German sav'd, or routed Gaul?
Weigh well that boasted, that immortal Man,
And then be proud of Greatness if You can!
300
Long stood I wav'ring, lest my Words might seem
An unexperienc'd Visionary's Dream;
At length resolv'd, for what have I to fear?
A Frown I dread not, and despise a Sneer:
Thus my Concern if not my Wit I'll show,
And if it can be useful,—Be it so.
An unexperienc'd Visionary's Dream;
At length resolv'd, for what have I to fear?
A Frown I dread not, and despise a Sneer:
Thus my Concern if not my Wit I'll show,
And if it can be useful,—Be it so.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |