The Apparition or, The Genius of Ireland Complaining of Her Present Misery, and Imploring Speedy Relief from England. Dedicated to Duke Schonberg. Written by Edm. Arwaker |
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 | The Apparition or, The Genius of Ireland |  |
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THE Apparition.
It was a Dismal and Tempestuous Night,
Heav'ns Glorious Lamps withdrew their Light,
As if it self did of some Loss Complain;
While Sable Clouds wept Show'rs of Rain,
And mourning Winds did in loud Sighs Lament,
And to each frightned Ear proclaim their Discontent;
When in the heighth of all the Noise,
A wretched Swain, by weighty Cares oppress'd,
(Cares, the sworn Enemies of Rest,
Which o're his Bed did Centry keep,
And from his Eyes still banish'd Sleep
And Quiet from his Breast;)
Distinguish'd something like a Humane Voice,
That did in broken Accents make sad Moan;
And with such moving Reth'rick vent its Grief;
As call'd his Pity, to neglect his own,
And give those louder Sorrows quick Relief.
Heav'ns Glorious Lamps withdrew their Light,
As if it self did of some Loss Complain;
While Sable Clouds wept Show'rs of Rain,
And mourning Winds did in loud Sighs Lament,
And to each frightned Ear proclaim their Discontent;
When in the heighth of all the Noise,
A wretched Swain, by weighty Cares oppress'd,
(Cares, the sworn Enemies of Rest,
Which o're his Bed did Centry keep,
And from his Eyes still banish'd Sleep
And Quiet from his Breast;)
Distinguish'd something like a Humane Voice,
That did in broken Accents make sad Moan;
And with such moving Reth'rick vent its Grief;
As call'd his Pity, to neglect his own,
And give those louder Sorrows quick Relief.
2
[2]
Scarce had his Eye bestow'd one circling GlanceIn search of what it was employ'd to find,
When the sought Object did advance;
A Matron so divinely Fair,
It seem'd that Nature did collect in Her
All Graces scatter'd thro' the Female-kind:
Her Eyes, amidst her Tears, were dazling bright,
Ev'n that Eclipse could not conceal their Light;
And, tho' with weighty Grief oppress'd,
She mov'd with Charming and Majestick Meen,
In nothing lessen'd, tho' distress'd,
But still a Beauty, still a Queen.
The Crown that once did her rais'd Head adorn,
Now tottering on it stood;
Its richest Jewels from their places torn,
By Hands unmanly Rude;
By Hands so Barbarous, they did not spare
The lovely Tresses of her Golden Hair;
And strove with equal Sacriledge t'erace
The Sacred Lines of Beauty in her Face,
But those indelibly were Printed there.
Her right Hand held a Golden Lyre,
On which she oft such Charming Airs had play'd
As made those very Savages admire
That did her this Inhumane Wrong;
But by their Rage, alas! unstrung.
The useless Instrument with sad neglect she bears,
No more it lays her Grief, nor lightens more her Cares.
3
[3]
The Swain, who well did that fam'd Ensign knowTo be the same by fair Juverna born;
Surpriz'd to find both alter'd so,
The Lyre now robb'd of that Harmonious Voice
Which often to each pensive Heart
Did simpathetick Melody impart;
And that Great Queen, to whose Luxuriant Court
Crouds of Admirers did resort
To revel in its Joys,
Now Unattended and Forlorn:
As well as sudden Passion would allow,
Desir'd the reason of this Change to know.
To whose Request the easie Queen consents,
And sadly thus her teeming Sorrow vents.
[4]
Five Lusters of soft Peace had bless'd my Plains,Thro' the kind influence of Evander's Reign,
My Ruins, by Intestine Wars,
Were by his healing Hand so well repair'd,
I had almost outworn the Scars;
Now no Allarms, but Shouts of Joy, I heard.
Each Season did its proper Product yield,
The loaden Trees their timely Burthens bear;
And Heav'n such Fatness drop'd on ev'ry Field,
That Golden Plenty Crown'd the happy Year.
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These Blessings learn'd to use,
Blessings which heretofore they did abuse,
Because not understood;
Thus by their Conqu'rors taught how Well to live;
They love the Hands whence they the Good receive;
Advanc'd by their Subjection, more
Than by their boasted Liberty before.
[5]
Now, to compleat my Bliss, my fav'ring LordDid lov'd Barzillai to improve me send;
Barzillai, who best knew to wield my Sword,
The King's, the Souldier's, and the Muses Friend:
His Instances of Loyalty
So many, dangerous, and great,
All must Admire, but few can Imitate:
No brave Desert scap'd his discerning Eye;
And as none better did advise,
None sooner undertake a Glorious Enterprise,
So none was Nobler to Reward than He.
For he of Merit had too just a Sense
To let it want due Recompense;
Injurious to Himself alone,
In not designing any for his Own.
Nor was the Gown less than the Sword his Care,
Nor wanted large Encouragements;
Who e're did sweat in Learning's steep Ascents,
Met high Preferment, worth their Labour, there.
Thus he supply'd the Bench and Bar,
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That time no more the Structure shall impair.
[6]
But oh! such Blessings were too great to last!Heav'n call'd Evander to a nobler Reign,
Heaven for his Presence was in haste;
With Prayers and Tears I begg'd his stay in vain!
The Sentence was irrevocably past.
His Throne Philotheus next ascends,
Philotheus justly Honour'd and Rever'd:
No Prince had ever Subjects more his Friends,
None more, by those who lov'd him not, was fear'd:
But soon he lost their Love and Awe,
Expos'd, thro' Goodness, to abuse,
By Vipers cherish'd in his Breast;
Who Eager and Impatient grown,
Broke thro' the Sacred Fences of the Law,
The chief Supporters of a Monarch's Throne,
Ruin'd his Interest, to promote their own;
And of his Favour made a Fatal Use,
Their Superstitious Rites to introduce,
Rites, Heav'n, and all the Friends of Heav'n detest.
Unhappy Prince! who by thy Peoples Crime
Wert a young Exile forc'd abroad,
To be infected in a foreign Clime
With a false Worship of the One True God!
Which makes thy Empire bear so shore a date,
Yet moves our Pity only for thy Fate.
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[7]
'Twere endless to rehearseThe means by which Philotheus was misled,
May they who brought the Mischiefs on his Head,
Condemn'd to be eternal Wanderers,
Their Treachery deplore,
And try the sad Experiment no more;
While of the Evils by their Counsels done
I only mention what my Realm has known.
On me the first Essay they make;
Believing I th'Infection first would take,
Since thro' my Fields it long has spread,
The only Venom in them bred:
In favour of this curs'd Design,
All Means, all Stratagems they try,
But They and Hell in vain combine,
Their black Contrivances I still defie,
Till they by one pernicious Wile succeed,
And as the most prevailing way indeed
To work my certain Fall,
They good Barzillai from my Helm recall.
[8]
Not all the soothing Flatteries they us'dTo still my Plaints, and lull my Fears asleep,
Not ev'n the next Best Man they could provide
To be my Guardian and my Guide,
Cou'd make me cease to Weep;
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Nor let the World my just Resentment blame,
Nor thou, Great Celadon, my Grief accuse,
Since I enjoy'd in Thee
Blessings soon thought too Good, too Great for me;
Yet cou'd not then forbear
For dear Barzillai's loss to shed a Tear,
The meanest Tribute due to his lov'd Name.
But since, alas! he is no more,
No Mourning can suffice,
Nor I enough my hapless Fate deplore,
With all the exhausted Treasure of mine Eyes.
[9]
Barzillai now and Celadon remov'd,My Lovers both, and both deserv'dly Lov'd,
Shisanthropus next fills the Place,
The Hater and Abhor'd of Humane Race.
Soon all the bless'd Advances I had made
In the right way of True Religion,
The forward steps I had in Learning gone,
And Civil Education,
Were all by him turn'd Retrograde.
Born in the wildest Desarts of my Land,
Where nothing does frequent but Beasts of Prey,
Or Men more Barbarous than they;
Where deepest Boggs and thickest Woods agree
To shelter Inhumanity;
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All Decency and Order slights,
And hates whatever Good he does not understand.
[10]
Now his Ambition fledg'd with Pow'r,Removes whatever does his Rise oppose,
Evander's Friends he soon pronounces Foes;
Ev'n those who serv'd him in his Wars,
Scarce for more Pay than Honourable Scars;
This Tyrant will allow to wear no more
The Swords they had with Glory us'd before;
By him of their Commands depriv'd,
The little All on which they barely liv'd,
They are oblig'd to Foreign Shores to roam,
To earn the Bread they were deny'd at home.
The Sword thus wrested from their Conquerour's Hands,
My Natives soon reject their Laws,
Nor more Obedience pay to their Commands;
To their first Wildness th'unaw'd Beasts return,
And shew their long hid Teeth and Claws,
And now the settled Government they scorn;
The settled Government o'rethrown,
They raise a Babel of their own,
O may it end in like Confusion!
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[11]
Now to my Chief Preferments they advanceMen of Mean Rank and Sense,
Ev'n Prodigies of Ignorance;
While those of more Intelligence
Are laid aside, only for that Offence.
My Arms, a dangerous Trust
In Hands that cannot Wisely manage it,
To such they foolishly commit;
Strangers to Honour's nicer Laws,
Whose Swords are eaten with Ignoble Rust,
Or basely stain'd in some Inglorious Cause.
To these their Unarm'd Conquerours Lives
Defenceless are expos'd;
Beneath their Sacrificing Knives
The Victims prostrate lye expecting Death.
And thou, Omniscient Heaven, dost only know
How soon, alas! unless in time oppos'd,
Those Bloody Hands may strike the Fatal Blow,
To end at once their Suff'rings and their Breath.
But this kind Fate they fear will be deny'd,
Afraid of Tortures yet in store,
Since they by sad Experience try'd
How Cruel e'en their Mercies were before.
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[12]
The Sacred Temples of my God,Wherein my People True Devotion pay'd,
The Places bless'd with his Abode,
To hear and grant the Prayers they made;
Partake their Rage and Spight;
These by base uses they prophane;
And Beasts the beauteous Courts defile,
Wherein Angelick Choirs did not disdain
To view our Sacrifices with delight,
And often would on our Oblations smile.
But now, Polluted by this Disrespect,
These Seats the Heav'nly Guests reject,
And grieve to be Spectators of their Fate,
Which an Abuse so vile,
Or a more odious Worship desecrate.
[13]
No more th'Ambassadors of Heav'n,The bless'd Dispensers of its Sacred Word,
That taught us how to Fear and Praise the Lord,
Their Presence here afford;
To Shores remote, and distant Countries driven:
Or if some few remain behind,
Pensive and drooping all the day they go,
Partakers of the Common Woe;
The Churches Ruine still afflicts their mind:
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As on Euphrates's Banks they sate,
Wept at the sad remembrance of lost Sion's Fate.
[14]
The Seat where Learning once did pleas'd reside,And every day some fair Improvement made,
Whence all my Kingdom was supply'd,
With Men of Worth and Fame,
Whose Labours have Immortaliz'd my Name;
Ev'n this an Ignorant, Idle Crew invade;
This pleasant Hive, wherein I us'd to see
Each one, resembling the Industrious Bee,
Store loads of gather'd Honey up,
To make choice Nectar for Apollo's Cup;
Is now possess'd by Drones of lazie kind,
That ne'er increase, but waste the Stock they find.
[15]
My well Manur'd and Fertile Soil,Alas! neglected and untill'd,
No Prospect does of a kind Harvest yield;
The lofty Trees that did it once surround,
Hewn down, and level'd with the Ground,
No longer do its Fate prevent,
No longer are its Guard or Ornament;
Themselves, like that, become a common Spoil.
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At this I inward bleed;
Nor can I hope to stanch the flowing stream,
Unless by Albion's timely Aid,
Whose healing Virtue on the like extream
I did successfully implore;
Nor left I then her Services unpay'd,
And she shall find, would she but try once more,
I have as good, as great Rewards in store.
[16]
Scarce had her Lips their motion ceas'd,Scarce the light Winds had bore away the sound,
When thousand Trumpets there were heard,
And Shouts of Triumph fill'd the Air around,
Shouts, which approaching Joy express'd;
And straight with Conqu'ring Laurel Crown'd,
The Bright Victorious Albion's self appear'd.
Rais'd by Resentment of her Sister's wrong,
A threatning Cloud hung on her angry Brow,
Ready to be discharg'd upon her Foes;
And yet a kind enliv'ning smile broke thro',
To ease the Suff'rer's Woes,
Resolv'd she shou'd not bear the Burthen long.
With an impatient Haste
This pitying Queen her weeping Friend embrac'd,
Who prostrate at her Feet, implor'd Relief;
And that kind Ceremony pass'd,
Apply'd this healing Balsam to her Grief.
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Injurious to your lovely Eyes;
In all thy Griefs thy Albion shares,
In all thy Woes does simpathise,
Thy just Complaints with deep regret she hears,
And swift Revenge has vow'd:
See, how in pity of thy Harms,
Her vig'rous Youth, rouz'd by thy sad Alarms,
To thy assistance croud,
And for thy Safety, lavish of their Blood,
Resolve to quell thy Foes, or perish by their Arms.
[17]
Nor is the British Virtue sure unknownTo that Rebellious Crew,
Nor can they sure forget how heretofore
At my shrill Trumpet's sound amaz'd they fled,
How by my Sword's keen Edge they bled;
And dare they tempt my Vengeance any more?
If by my fav'ring Aid alone
Thou didst the Treach'rous Race subdue,
How are they able to withstand thee now?
When to the Pow'r I for thy help design,
Thou dost a second joyn,
A brave Enforcement of thine own?
Leaders alike Magnanimous and Wise,
Who nobly will thy Right dispute,
And what they Prudently advise,
As boldly execute.
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The greatest Trophies to themselves they raise;
Each has obtain'd a celebrated Name,
That fills large room in the Records of Fame.
[18]
To these I mean to add one Hero more,An Instance of my tend'rest Care;
A Jewel brought me from a Foreign Shore,
Nestor Renown'd in War,
Nestor, who Young made Victory his Bride,
And She, still Faithful to her Lord,
So long has waited by his Side,
Made Conquest so familiar to his Sword,
That now he claims it for his Own,
By undeniable Prescription.
He, once the Gallick Monarch's boast,
And Bulwark of the Lusitanian Coast,
Now from both faithless Soils Exil'd;
Those faithless Soils unworthy such a Store,
Whose loss has made them poor!
While for the Crime they justly are revil'd,
A Crime, his Merits still upbraid;
He shall conduct my Armies to thy Aid.
He bravely will engage in thy Defence;
For none can have a juster Sense
Of thy unhappy Exigence,
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Of all thy Losses for Religion;
Since, in the Throng of her Admirers, none
Has for her Glorious Cause Perform'd or Suffer'd more.
FINIS.
| The Apparition or, The Genius of Ireland | |