Mr. Cooke's Original Poems with Imitations and Translations of Several Select Passages of the Antients, In Four Parts: To which are added Proposals For perfecting the English Language |
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 | Mr. Cooke's Original Poems |  |
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1. PART the First, CONTAINING ESSAYS, TALES, AND A RHAPSODY On Virtue and Pleasure.
3
AN ESSAY ON NOBILITY.
To His Grace the Duke of Somerset.
Glory by few is rightly understood,
What's truly glorious must be greatly good;
And what is glorious we may noble call;
The Deed is glorious, and 'tis noble all.
What's truly glorious must be greatly good;
And what is glorious we may noble call;
The Deed is glorious, and 'tis noble all.
Princes with Titles may their Creatures pay
For Acts too shameful for the Face of Day;
Heralds with Nobles may their Names enroll;
But who can give the Wretch a noble Soul?
Patents may pass to stile a Mortal Jove,
Or call a wealthy Hag the Queen of Love:
In such a Prince's Smiles himself who prides,
That makes a Noble of the Beast he rides?
If Nero reigns, of Honours he's the Spring,
Or he that knights his Beef, the pedant King.
For Acts too shameful for the Face of Day;
Heralds with Nobles may their Names enroll;
But who can give the Wretch a noble Soul?
Patents may pass to stile a Mortal Jove,
Or call a wealthy Hag the Queen of Love:
4
That makes a Noble of the Beast he rides?
If Nero reigns, of Honours he's the Spring,
Or he that knights his Beef, the pedant King.
Kings who of Honour nicely scan the Laws
No Nobles make for an ignoble Cause;
Men justly brave, and greatly good, they chuse,
And Honours give where they no Honour lose;
Our Seymours such, our Piercys such, of old;
And such our Kings who knew the Dross from Gold.
No Nobles make for an ignoble Cause;
Men justly brave, and greatly good, they chuse,
And Honours give where they no Honour lose;
Our Seymours such, our Piercys such, of old;
And such our Kings who knew the Dross from Gold.
They who of long Descent are Nobles born,
Should look on all that's base with Eyes of Scorn;
When the bright List of their great Sires they see,
Thence they should learn what they themselves should be,
By them with Emulation fir'd, should strive
To keep the Honours of their House alive:
As in a Train the virtuous Fires should run,
Enriching ev'ry Vein from Son to Son:
They, like the Blaze that mounts to meet the Sky,
Should catch th'Æthereal Flame, nor let it dy.
Should look on all that's base with Eyes of Scorn;
When the bright List of their great Sires they see,
Thence they should learn what they themselves should be,
By them with Emulation fir'd, should strive
To keep the Honours of their House alive:
As in a Train the virtuous Fires should run,
Enriching ev'ry Vein from Son to Son:
They, like the Blaze that mounts to meet the Sky,
Should catch th'Æthereal Flame, nor let it dy.
In you, my Lord, the noble Soul is seen,
That flys, like Saints from Sin, from all that's mean,
That dignifys the Titles, which you wear,
And shews what's truly great from what you are:
Without the least Advantages of Birth,
Nobles like you are Nobles of the Earth;
Virtues like thine demand the World's Regard;
And of those Virtues Glory's the Reward.
Glory's in England, Rome, and Greece, the same,
Tho chang'd the Clime, the Person, and the Name.
What Xenophon to Acts of Glory fir'd,
When Rome was great, her Atticus inspir'd:
Foremost in Arms behold th'illustrious Greek,
And lo! in all he writes the Graces speak,
In Arms, in Arts, in Virtue, well approv'd,
Friend to the Masters of those Arts he lov'd.
In troubled Times the noble Roman stood
The sure Asylum of the injur'd good;
Regardless he of Tyrants or their Pow'r,
The wise were welcome to his learned Bow'r;
The Academic and the Stoic Sage
There reason'd calm amidst a ruffled Age:
Oppress'd by Fortune and the Weight of Years,
Dearer the Roman Orator appears,
To him, than Cæsar, who usurp'd his Sway,
In Pride of Empire and his Blaze of Day.
That flys, like Saints from Sin, from all that's mean,
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And shews what's truly great from what you are:
Without the least Advantages of Birth,
Nobles like you are Nobles of the Earth;
Virtues like thine demand the World's Regard;
And of those Virtues Glory's the Reward.
Glory's in England, Rome, and Greece, the same,
Tho chang'd the Clime, the Person, and the Name.
What Xenophon to Acts of Glory fir'd,
When Rome was great, her Atticus inspir'd:
Foremost in Arms behold th'illustrious Greek,
And lo! in all he writes the Graces speak,
In Arms, in Arts, in Virtue, well approv'd,
Friend to the Masters of those Arts he lov'd.
In troubled Times the noble Roman stood
The sure Asylum of the injur'd good;
Regardless he of Tyrants or their Pow'r,
The wise were welcome to his learned Bow'r;
The Academic and the Stoic Sage
There reason'd calm amidst a ruffled Age:
Oppress'd by Fortune and the Weight of Years,
Dearer the Roman Orator appears,
To him, than Cæsar, who usurp'd his Sway,
In Pride of Empire and his Blaze of Day.
6
What in th'illustrious Greek we noble see
Is noble, or in Atticus, or thee:
Thy gen'rous Views to future Days extend,
The Friend of Virtue, and of Arts the Friend.
Where Cam, in sacred Song immortal, flows,
Where Barrow, and his great Disciple rose,
Where Spenser, fruitful of Invention, sung,
Where Milton first his Lyre, and Dryden, strung,
Where meditated Lee the tragic Strain,
And Johnson first indulg'd his comic Vein,
Where Tillotson, that Tree of Wisdom, grew,
And Clarke, who ev'ry Branch of Knowledge knew,
That Seat of Learning shall your Bounty bless,
Shall you their Patron and their Sire confess,
While flows the Cam, and Sciences remain,
Till Fish forsake the Sea, and Herds the Plain.
Is noble, or in Atticus, or thee:
Thy gen'rous Views to future Days extend,
The Friend of Virtue, and of Arts the Friend.
Where Cam, in sacred Song immortal, flows,
Where Barrow, and his great Disciple rose,
Where Spenser, fruitful of Invention, sung,
Where Milton first his Lyre, and Dryden, strung,
Where meditated Lee the tragic Strain,
And Johnson first indulg'd his comic Vein,
Where Tillotson, that Tree of Wisdom, grew,
And Clarke, who ev'ry Branch of Knowledge knew,
That Seat of Learning shall your Bounty bless,
Shall you their Patron and their Sire confess,
While flows the Cam, and Sciences remain,
Till Fish forsake the Sea, and Herds the Plain.
7
AN ESSAY ON THE Antient and Modern State of Great Britain, and on the Posture of Affairs in Europe in the Years 1734, and 1735.
TO His Grace the Duke of Marlborough.
9
Shall
France triumphant over Europe ride,
And spread her Arms extensive as her Pride,
Shall the loud Voice of War be hear'd again,
And Britain offer Terms of Peace in vain,
And not a Patriot Muse with Marlb'rough's Name
Rouse up her Country to assert her Fame?
Attend, illustrious Youth, O! bring thine Aid,
And with thy Grandsire's Toils the Land upbraid:
E'en Half the Glorys which his Toils have won
Would rank the Leader's Name with Philip's Son;
Not Philip's Son, surnam'd the Great, can claim
The foremost Honours in the Rolls of Fame;
Marlb'rough's and his, how diff'rent their Renown!
A Tyrant one, one pull'd a Tyrant down.
And spread her Arms extensive as her Pride,
Shall the loud Voice of War be hear'd again,
And Britain offer Terms of Peace in vain,
And not a Patriot Muse with Marlb'rough's Name
Rouse up her Country to assert her Fame?
Attend, illustrious Youth, O! bring thine Aid,
And with thy Grandsire's Toils the Land upbraid:
E'en Half the Glorys which his Toils have won
Would rank the Leader's Name with Philip's Son;
Not Philip's Son, surnam'd the Great, can claim
The foremost Honours in the Rolls of Fame;
Marlb'rough's and his, how diff'rent their Renown!
A Tyrant one, one pull'd a Tyrant down.
10
Cast, noble Youth, indignant cast, thine Eye
On Europe's State, nor pass Britannia by;
Compare the present with the pass'd, and see
What once the Britons were, and what are we:
See the fam'd Land, whose gallant Sons advance
At once the Terror, and the Lords, of France:
What never-sading Honours Edward won!
And what in Cressey's Field his godlike Son!
Arm'd with paternal Vigour on he sprung,
As rouses from his Den the Lion's Young.
In Agencourt what our fifth Henry gain'd,
In Gaul who conquer'd, and in Gaul who reign'd!
These are the Monarchs which a Throne adorn;
True British Worthys these, and British born!
Harden'd in Camps, and in the Council wise,
On Honour, and on Fame, they fix'd their Eyes;
Where-e'er they summon'd they obey'd the Call,
To pitch the Battel, or to scale the Wall.
When Darkness bids the Din of War to cease,
And for a-while compells the Troops to Peace,
Back to the Camp their harrass'd Limbs they bear,
Their Strength with scanty Viands to repair:
Beneath the Night, and o'er the hostile Ground,
Behold the watchful Hero takes his Round,
Descrys the Motions of the Foe from far,
And wakeful meditates To-morrow's War:
He cheers the drooping, and the bold commends,
And Fellow-soldiers calls them all, and Friends:
Short are his Sleeps, if Sleep the Chief requires,
Who freted Roofs nor Beds of Down desires;
But cas'd in Steel, and stretch'd along the Field,
He makes a Pillow of his wounded Shield;
And vigilant in Sleep, tho void of Fear,
Close by his Side he lays his Sword and Spear:
His Slumbers soon the Trumpet's Clangor breaks;
From Dreams of Glory he to Glory wakes:
Such were our antient Heros, such our Kings;
No Shadows they of Pow'r, mere purple Things!
Heros were they who early sought Renown,
And with the Laurel Wreath adorn'd the Crown:
Nor less Eliza, bless'd heroic Maid,
Th'immortal Honours to thy Virtues pay'd;
Whose Veins were cherish'd with the richest Flood,
Where flow'd the noblest of the Tudor's Blood;
Who chose for England's Happyness to reign,
And fix'd her Wealth and Safety on the Main;
By whose Command the flying Tow'rs arose,
And wafted Terror to thy distant Foes.
When the proud Spaniard, in an evil Hour,
Boasted invincible his naval Pow'r,
Resolv'd to pull the Virgin's Glory down,
To Britain's Isle he sent his floating Town;
His floating Town the Virgin's Thunder try'd,
And gave vindictive to the Wind and Tyde:
So was the Pride of England's Flag maintain'd,
When Burleigh counsel'd, and Eliza reign'd:
Then with a lib'ral Hand the Subject gave
Whate'er the State requir'd, or Prince would have;
For well they knew the royal Maid's Desires
Were all confin'd to what the State requires;
She brought them Conquests Home, and brought them Peace,
Encrease of Empire, and the Trade's Encrease:
Beneath her Eye no blund'ring Statesman rose,
To grieve her Friends, and to elate her Foes,
To spread Oppression and Disgrace around,
To mock the injur'd, and the wife confound,
In medley Councils, when the Nations jar,
To hesitate when Glory calls to War:
No Bribes for wounded Honour could atone;
Nor skulk'd th'Oppressor then behind the Throne.
On Europe's State, nor pass Britannia by;
Compare the present with the pass'd, and see
What once the Britons were, and what are we:
See the fam'd Land, whose gallant Sons advance
At once the Terror, and the Lords, of France:
What never-sading Honours Edward won!
And what in Cressey's Field his godlike Son!
Arm'd with paternal Vigour on he sprung,
As rouses from his Den the Lion's Young.
In Agencourt what our fifth Henry gain'd,
In Gaul who conquer'd, and in Gaul who reign'd!
These are the Monarchs which a Throne adorn;
True British Worthys these, and British born!
Harden'd in Camps, and in the Council wise,
On Honour, and on Fame, they fix'd their Eyes;
Where-e'er they summon'd they obey'd the Call,
To pitch the Battel, or to scale the Wall.
When Darkness bids the Din of War to cease,
And for a-while compells the Troops to Peace,
Back to the Camp their harrass'd Limbs they bear,
Their Strength with scanty Viands to repair:
Beneath the Night, and o'er the hostile Ground,
Behold the watchful Hero takes his Round,
Descrys the Motions of the Foe from far,
And wakeful meditates To-morrow's War:
11
And Fellow-soldiers calls them all, and Friends:
Short are his Sleeps, if Sleep the Chief requires,
Who freted Roofs nor Beds of Down desires;
But cas'd in Steel, and stretch'd along the Field,
He makes a Pillow of his wounded Shield;
And vigilant in Sleep, tho void of Fear,
Close by his Side he lays his Sword and Spear:
His Slumbers soon the Trumpet's Clangor breaks;
From Dreams of Glory he to Glory wakes:
Such were our antient Heros, such our Kings;
No Shadows they of Pow'r, mere purple Things!
Heros were they who early sought Renown,
And with the Laurel Wreath adorn'd the Crown:
Nor less Eliza, bless'd heroic Maid,
Th'immortal Honours to thy Virtues pay'd;
Whose Veins were cherish'd with the richest Flood,
Where flow'd the noblest of the Tudor's Blood;
Who chose for England's Happyness to reign,
And fix'd her Wealth and Safety on the Main;
By whose Command the flying Tow'rs arose,
And wafted Terror to thy distant Foes.
When the proud Spaniard, in an evil Hour,
Boasted invincible his naval Pow'r,
Resolv'd to pull the Virgin's Glory down,
To Britain's Isle he sent his floating Town;
12
And gave vindictive to the Wind and Tyde:
So was the Pride of England's Flag maintain'd,
When Burleigh counsel'd, and Eliza reign'd:
Then with a lib'ral Hand the Subject gave
Whate'er the State requir'd, or Prince would have;
For well they knew the royal Maid's Desires
Were all confin'd to what the State requires;
She brought them Conquests Home, and brought them Peace,
Encrease of Empire, and the Trade's Encrease:
Beneath her Eye no blund'ring Statesman rose,
To grieve her Friends, and to elate her Foes,
To spread Oppression and Disgrace around,
To mock the injur'd, and the wife confound,
In medley Councils, when the Nations jar,
To hesitate when Glory calls to War:
No Bribes for wounded Honour could atone;
Nor skulk'd th'Oppressor then behind the Throne.
Treasures immense, rais'd on the People's Woe,
A peaceful Army, and a Fleet for Show,
A Nation's Debt unpay'd, a hireling Band,
The station'd Locusts of a groaning Land,
Kind Heav'n such Evils keep from England far,
Inglorious Uses of the Nerves of War!
A peaceful Army, and a Fleet for Show,
A Nation's Debt unpay'd, a hireling Band,
The station'd Locusts of a groaning Land,
Kind Heav'n such Evils keep from England far,
Inglorious Uses of the Nerves of War!
13
While arm'd, while fortify'd by Land and Wave,
Shall the proud Gaul our Arms unanswer'd brave?
Shall he the Scales of Europe's Int'rest hold,
And add his Sword, like Brennus, to his Gold,
While he sees laughing, of his Mirth the Theme,
The lighter Scale fly up, and kick the Beam?
Not so, in France when greater Lewis reign'd;
Britain oppos'd him, and his Pride restrain'd:
What was deny'd t'encrease great William's Praise
Was kep'd for Marlb'rough's Arms and Anna's Days.
Shall the proud Gaul our Arms unanswer'd brave?
Shall he the Scales of Europe's Int'rest hold,
And add his Sword, like Brennus, to his Gold,
While he sees laughing, of his Mirth the Theme,
The lighter Scale fly up, and kick the Beam?
Not so, in France when greater Lewis reign'd;
Britain oppos'd him, and his Pride restrain'd:
What was deny'd t'encrease great William's Praise
Was kep'd for Marlb'rough's Arms and Anna's Days.
Long had the Gallic Monarch broke his Bounds,
And like a Flood o'er-flow'd the neighb'ring Mounds;
Where-e'er his Armys march'd he spread Despair,
And chas'd the Austrian Eagle thro the Air;
To aim at universal Pow'r he dar'd;
And Britain's self the boastful Insult shar'd:
He bad Defyance bold with Sword and Shield,
Forgeting Agencourt and Cressey's Field.
Malb'rough steps forth to scourge the Scourge of Laws,
With Anna's Thunder arm'd in Europe's Cause:
He stops the Torrent in its rapid Course,
Repels its Fury, and restrains its Force,
Like Neptune shakes his Trident in his Ire,
Hush'd are the Billows, and the Waves retire.
And like a Flood o'er-flow'd the neighb'ring Mounds;
Where-e'er his Armys march'd he spread Despair,
And chas'd the Austrian Eagle thro the Air;
To aim at universal Pow'r he dar'd;
And Britain's self the boastful Insult shar'd:
He bad Defyance bold with Sword and Shield,
Forgeting Agencourt and Cressey's Field.
Malb'rough steps forth to scourge the Scourge of Laws,
With Anna's Thunder arm'd in Europe's Cause:
He stops the Torrent in its rapid Course,
Repels its Fury, and restrains its Force,
14
Hush'd are the Billows, and the Waves retire.
The Point of War no longer wakes the Day;
The Song of Triumph's sung, the grateful Lay;
Lewis submits, and all his Insults cease;
And Europe tastes again the Sweets of Peace.
The Song of Triumph's sung, the grateful Lay;
Lewis submits, and all his Insults cease;
And Europe tastes again the Sweets of Peace.
Soon as the Gallic Pow'r has heal'd the Scars
Of the deep Wounds receiv'd in Anna's Wars,
He sounds a Charge, and from the Cannon's Mouth
Hurls bold Defyance to the North and South:
Again the Austrian Eagle trembling flys,
And with Reluctance leaves th'Italian Skys;
To drive him thence while France and Spain combine,
He seeks a Refuge on the Banks of Rhine:
Mean-while behold the Russian Arms advance,
To fix the Pole, and blast the Hopes of France:
A Woman's Form, inspir'd with Peter's Soul,
Resolves at once to save and to controul;
See her of Europe's State the Bulwark stand,
And keep the Ballance with an equal Hand.
Of the deep Wounds receiv'd in Anna's Wars,
He sounds a Charge, and from the Cannon's Mouth
Hurls bold Defyance to the North and South:
Again the Austrian Eagle trembling flys,
And with Reluctance leaves th'Italian Skys;
To drive him thence while France and Spain combine,
He seeks a Refuge on the Banks of Rhine:
Mean-while behold the Russian Arms advance,
To fix the Pole, and blast the Hopes of France:
A Woman's Form, inspir'd with Peter's Soul,
Resolves at once to save and to controul;
See her of Europe's State the Bulwark stand,
And keep the Ballance with an equal Hand.
Blush, blush, ye Pow'rs unfaithful to your Trust,
Learn from a Woman to be brave and just;
No longer hear your injur'd Trade complain
Against Excise and Robbers on the Main;
Assert your Rights, and your loss'd Fame restore;
Remember, ------ and inglorious be no more:
While all in Arms, and in a gen'ral Cause,
The neighb'ring Nations move, no longer pause;
At them no more with stupid Wonder gaze,
Amazing others by your own Amaze:
With Wealth and Thunder arm'd by Land and Sea,
Shew that ye can, and that ye will be free.
Learn from a Woman to be brave and just;
15
Against Excise and Robbers on the Main;
Assert your Rights, and your loss'd Fame restore;
Remember, ------ and inglorious be no more:
While all in Arms, and in a gen'ral Cause,
The neighb'ring Nations move, no longer pause;
At them no more with stupid Wonder gaze,
Amazing others by your own Amaze:
With Wealth and Thunder arm'd by Land and Sea,
Shew that ye can, and that ye will be free.
17
THE KNIGHTS of the BATH, A TALE.
19
Say, shall the brave like common Mortals dy,
And Acts of Virtue in Oblivion ly?
The Muse forbids, who in recording Lays
Gives ever to Desert the Song of Praise.
What, tho the Tale is not to Anstis known?
Whate'er the Muse recalls she makes her own;
Who, conscious of thy Worth, would give to Fame
Thy Charms Matilda, and Carvilior's Flame.
And Acts of Virtue in Oblivion ly?
The Muse forbids, who in recording Lays
Gives ever to Desert the Song of Praise.
What, tho the Tale is not to Anstis known?
Whate'er the Muse recalls she makes her own;
Who, conscious of thy Worth, would give to Fame
Thy Charms Matilda, and Carvilior's Flame.
'E're the first Cæsar did our Isle subdue,
When Britons Nought but British Virtue knew,
Cingetorix, in his Domains content,
Confin'd his Empire to the Bounds of Kent.
No Lust of Pow'r drives him to Realms unknown,
To rob his Neighbours, and enlarge his own.
At Home no Fear his Peace of Mind molests;
He rules, no Tyrant, over loyal Breasts.
Thrice happy Land, 'tis here the Druids sing,
And are Companions only for the King.
Far hence away the Sons of Battel rage,
Unknown, O! Albion, to thy golden Age.
When Britons Nought but British Virtue knew,
Cingetorix, in his Domains content,
Confin'd his Empire to the Bounds of Kent.
20
To rob his Neighbours, and enlarge his own.
At Home no Fear his Peace of Mind molests;
He rules, no Tyrant, over loyal Breasts.
Thrice happy Land, 'tis here the Druids sing,
And are Companions only for the King.
Far hence away the Sons of Battel rage,
Unknown, O! Albion, to thy golden Age.
One only Daughter was this Prince's Care,
Chast as Diana, and as Venus fair;
When in the Woods the Nymph delights to rove,
Matilda walks the Dian of the Grove;
Or if the regal Dome is her Resort,
Matilda shines the Venus of the Court;
If in the Grove, or in the Court, she moves,
She's still attended by a thousand Loves;
Each from her Eyes a thousand Arrows darts,
And leads in Triumph each a thousand Hearts.
All Eyes which see her once confess her Sway,
And her bright Image never fades away.
Chast as Diana, and as Venus fair;
When in the Woods the Nymph delights to rove,
Matilda walks the Dian of the Grove;
Or if the regal Dome is her Resort,
Matilda shines the Venus of the Court;
If in the Grove, or in the Court, she moves,
She's still attended by a thousand Loves;
Each from her Eyes a thousand Arrows darts,
And leads in Triumph each a thousand Hearts.
All Eyes which see her once confess her Sway,
And her bright Image never fades away.
Among the Youths, who dar'd to vow their Flame,
A poor, but gallant, Prince, Carvilior, came;
He walk'd a God amidst th'admiring Throng,
The darling Subject of the Druid's Song.
To all the Beautys of a Form were join'd
Th'unsully'd Virtues of a Soul refin'd.
His ev'ry Act, his ev'ry Word, could move;
Master of all the Rhetoric of Love.
A poor, but gallant, Prince, Carvilior, came;
He walk'd a God amidst th'admiring Throng,
The darling Subject of the Druid's Song.
21
Th'unsully'd Virtues of a Soul refin'd.
His ev'ry Act, his ev'ry Word, could move;
Master of all the Rhetoric of Love.
Of all the Suitors who the Fair address'd,
None found a Passage to her virtuous Breast,
But Prince Carvilior. First her Eyes approve,
Forc'd from her Heart at last to call it Love.
They love, the Cause the same, they both adore;
Much do their Persons charm, their Virtues more.
None found a Passage to her virtuous Breast,
But Prince Carvilior. First her Eyes approve,
Forc'd from her Heart at last to call it Love.
They love, the Cause the same, they both adore;
Much do their Persons charm, their Virtues more.
Long had they both with mutual Anguish burn'd,
And unmolested Sigh for Sigh return'd.
Now in the Court, now in the lonely Walk,
Pleas'd with the sweet Varietys of Talk.
Their Vows in Secret they prefer to Fate,
In Life, in Love, to grant an equal Date:
And who so bless'd, who Half so bless'd, as they!
In Love they fancy all a Summer's Day.
And unmolested Sigh for Sigh return'd.
Now in the Court, now in the lonely Walk,
Pleas'd with the sweet Varietys of Talk.
Their Vows in Secret they prefer to Fate,
In Life, in Love, to grant an equal Date:
And who so bless'd, who Half so bless'd, as they!
In Love they fancy all a Summer's Day.
When most secure of all our Wish we stand,
Oft' are we cast upon a barren Land;
For cruel Fortune will a Moment find,
A Moment to the Lover's Hopes unkind.
Oft' are we cast upon a barren Land;
For cruel Fortune will a Moment find,
A Moment to the Lover's Hopes unkind.
22
Cingetorix had now their Passion seen,
He scan'd Carvilior's Form, his Air, his Mien;
Much did he strive to count his Virtues o'er,
He found them many; but he found him poor.
It is resolv'd. In vain his Virtues plead,
And weak their Succour in the Time of Need.
Th'obdurate Sire, by Avarice betray'd,
Drove the fond Hero from as fond a Maid.
Soon as the Prince receives the harsh Command,
To leave the Court, to leave the blissful Land,
With an obedient, tho dejected, Mind,
He with a Sigh departs: his Soul is left behind.
He scan'd Carvilior's Form, his Air, his Mien;
Much did he strive to count his Virtues o'er,
He found them many; but he found him poor.
It is resolv'd. In vain his Virtues plead,
And weak their Succour in the Time of Need.
Th'obdurate Sire, by Avarice betray'd,
Drove the fond Hero from as fond a Maid.
Soon as the Prince receives the harsh Command,
To leave the Court, to leave the blissful Land,
With an obedient, tho dejected, Mind,
He with a Sigh departs: his Soul is left behind.
A mournful Exile, forc'd from all he loves,
A sudden Shade he seeks the lonely Groves.
To the bleak Plains, wild as his Thoughts, he flys,
And meets no Object now to feast his Eyes.
He shuns all Converse for the silent Bow'rs,
And wears away with Grief the lazy Hours.
Now on the Margin of a murm'ring Stream
He sits all Day, and makes the Nymph his Theme.
Of Health regardless on the Turf he lys,
Loss'd to all Joy, till Sleep has clos'd his Eyes:
On Beds of Roses now he seems to rest,
There reigns, Matilda, Monarch of thy Breast;
All his pass'd Scenes of Bliss his Dreams restore;
O! kind Delusion! he's a Wretch no more.
The Phantom flys, and leaves him to his Pain;
He wakes, alas! and is a Wretch again.
A sudden Shade he seeks the lonely Groves.
To the bleak Plains, wild as his Thoughts, he flys,
And meets no Object now to feast his Eyes.
He shuns all Converse for the silent Bow'rs,
And wears away with Grief the lazy Hours.
Now on the Margin of a murm'ring Stream
He sits all Day, and makes the Nymph his Theme.
Of Health regardless on the Turf he lys,
Loss'd to all Joy, till Sleep has clos'd his Eyes:
On Beds of Roses now he seems to rest,
There reigns, Matilda, Monarch of thy Breast;
23
O! kind Delusion! he's a Wretch no more.
The Phantom flys, and leaves him to his Pain;
He wakes, alas! and is a Wretch again.
While thus the Prince his Loss, Matilda, bears,
Counting the Moments each an Age of Cares,
Alike the Fair of adverse Stars complains,
And for Carvilior feels Carvilior's Pains.
True to her Love, as constant to her Grief,
She feeds on Sorrow, and denys Relief.
To her no more the bright Assembly's gay;
Nothing has Charms; and Day no more is Day.
As when the Sun bears from our Eyes the Light,
And for a-while leaves Half the World in Night,
No more the Rose in purple Pride is seen,
The painted Tulip, nor the Willow green,
So to the Fair all worldly Charms are dead,
Her Sun, that gave the Day, Carvilior's fled.
Counting the Moments each an Age of Cares,
Alike the Fair of adverse Stars complains,
And for Carvilior feels Carvilior's Pains.
True to her Love, as constant to her Grief,
She feeds on Sorrow, and denys Relief.
To her no more the bright Assembly's gay;
Nothing has Charms; and Day no more is Day.
As when the Sun bears from our Eyes the Light,
And for a-while leaves Half the World in Night,
No more the Rose in purple Pride is seen,
The painted Tulip, nor the Willow green,
So to the Fair all worldly Charms are dead,
Her Sun, that gave the Day, Carvilior's fled.
His wish'd for Absence frees from their Despair,
The Croud of Lovers that address the Fair;
All hope Advantage from Carvilior's Pain,
And all their Vows renew, and all in vain.
With mighty Dow'rs some strive her Soul to move;
And Crowns are lay'd to be the Snares of Love.
Nor mighty Dow'rs, nor Crowns, can change the Dame,
True to her Virtue, and her first-born Flame.
The Croud of Lovers that address the Fair;
All hope Advantage from Carvilior's Pain,
And all their Vows renew, and all in vain.
With mighty Dow'rs some strive her Soul to move;
And Crowns are lay'd to be the Snares of Love.
24
True to her Virtue, and her first-born Flame.
At a small Distance from the Palace stood,
For sweet Retirement, a convenient Wood;
Where oft' the Princess and her Maids remove;
Where she aviods th'ingrateful Voice of Love:
And now the Damsels crop the woodland Flow'rs,
Now tell her tender Tales in fragrant Bow'rs;
Now secret to the inmost Shade they go,
Where a cool Riv'let's silver Currents flow;
In which divested of the Veil of Dress,
Whene'er she blaz'd in modest Nakedness,
The Sun inamour'd, as Traditions say,
Would, gazing on her Charms, prolong the Day.
Hither two Lords, who long, too long, had borne
Thy Frowns, Matilda, and of Love the Scorn,
As void of Fear the Nymphs were bathing, came,
And bless'd the Hour that should revenge their Shame.
Once jealous Rivals, now with Vengeance fir'd,
They league against the Virtues they admir'd.
Behind a Thicket they conceal'd remain,
And view the Goddess with her virgin Train;
Her iv'ry Arms, and snowy Breasts, explore,
The Waves forbid it, they can see no more.
They doubt, or shall they bear the Fair away,
Or act their Horrors in the Face of Day.
The dire Remembrance of their slighted Flame,
Their burning Passion for the scornful Dame,
Their brutal Nature, prone to Rapes, combine
To execute in Haste the black Design.
Quick on the River's Bank each Monster stands,
Fire in their Looks, their Ponyards in their Hands;
No outward Signs their deepest Thoughts disguise;
For their dark Souls glare dreadful thro their Eyes.
To hide their naked Charms the Virgins strove,
And their Shrieks echo'd thro the plaintive Grove.
The boding Crys Carvilior's Ears invade,
Who pensive lay beneath a distant Shade;
He knew the much lov'd Voice, and from the Ground
Starting, he trembled at the well known Sound;
His Bow, and Quiver, o'er his Arms he threw,
And, wing'd with Love, swift as the Winds he flew.
Soon on the Bank he stood, a new Surprise!
The royal Virgin scarce believ'd her Eyes.
Desist, he cry'd aloud, nor touch the Fair;
An unexpected Foe demands your Care:
Then to the Head he drew the barbed Dart,
And found a Passage to a savage Heart;
The Traytor prostrate on the Ground he lay'd,
A breathless Victim to the virtuous Maid.
To shun his Fate by Flight the second strove,
And sought for Refuge in the shady Grove.
The Prince pursues fast as the Wretch can fly,
Resolv'd his Vengeance to compleat, or dy.
Mean-while the Damsels to the Shade repair,
Studious to dress, and to relieve, the Fair;
With her they Prince Carvilior's Fate deplore,
And fear for him, as for themselves before;
But soon their Fears are with the Danger fled,
And now the Nymph uprears her drooping Head;
For lo! the bless'd Preserver of her Fame,
Safe from the Work of Fate, and Justice, came.
Quick to his Breast he clasp'd the love-sick Maid,
And thought the Toils he bore were well repay'd.
In silent Raptures they their Joys reveal,
Which none can well describe, but when they feel.
So shall the Soul, if true the Sages say,
Mark out her Partner in the last great Day;
As great as those met to eternal Ease,
Tho not so lasting, are the Joys of these.
For sweet Retirement, a convenient Wood;
Where oft' the Princess and her Maids remove;
Where she aviods th'ingrateful Voice of Love:
And now the Damsels crop the woodland Flow'rs,
Now tell her tender Tales in fragrant Bow'rs;
Now secret to the inmost Shade they go,
Where a cool Riv'let's silver Currents flow;
In which divested of the Veil of Dress,
Whene'er she blaz'd in modest Nakedness,
The Sun inamour'd, as Traditions say,
Would, gazing on her Charms, prolong the Day.
Hither two Lords, who long, too long, had borne
Thy Frowns, Matilda, and of Love the Scorn,
As void of Fear the Nymphs were bathing, came,
And bless'd the Hour that should revenge their Shame.
Once jealous Rivals, now with Vengeance fir'd,
They league against the Virtues they admir'd.
Behind a Thicket they conceal'd remain,
And view the Goddess with her virgin Train;
25
The Waves forbid it, they can see no more.
They doubt, or shall they bear the Fair away,
Or act their Horrors in the Face of Day.
The dire Remembrance of their slighted Flame,
Their burning Passion for the scornful Dame,
Their brutal Nature, prone to Rapes, combine
To execute in Haste the black Design.
Quick on the River's Bank each Monster stands,
Fire in their Looks, their Ponyards in their Hands;
No outward Signs their deepest Thoughts disguise;
For their dark Souls glare dreadful thro their Eyes.
To hide their naked Charms the Virgins strove,
And their Shrieks echo'd thro the plaintive Grove.
The boding Crys Carvilior's Ears invade,
Who pensive lay beneath a distant Shade;
He knew the much lov'd Voice, and from the Ground
Starting, he trembled at the well known Sound;
His Bow, and Quiver, o'er his Arms he threw,
And, wing'd with Love, swift as the Winds he flew.
Soon on the Bank he stood, a new Surprise!
The royal Virgin scarce believ'd her Eyes.
Desist, he cry'd aloud, nor touch the Fair;
An unexpected Foe demands your Care:
26
And found a Passage to a savage Heart;
The Traytor prostrate on the Ground he lay'd,
A breathless Victim to the virtuous Maid.
To shun his Fate by Flight the second strove,
And sought for Refuge in the shady Grove.
The Prince pursues fast as the Wretch can fly,
Resolv'd his Vengeance to compleat, or dy.
Mean-while the Damsels to the Shade repair,
Studious to dress, and to relieve, the Fair;
With her they Prince Carvilior's Fate deplore,
And fear for him, as for themselves before;
But soon their Fears are with the Danger fled,
And now the Nymph uprears her drooping Head;
For lo! the bless'd Preserver of her Fame,
Safe from the Work of Fate, and Justice, came.
Quick to his Breast he clasp'd the love-sick Maid,
And thought the Toils he bore were well repay'd.
In silent Raptures they their Joys reveal,
Which none can well describe, but when they feel.
So shall the Soul, if true the Sages say,
Mark out her Partner in the last great Day;
As great as those met to eternal Ease,
Tho not so lasting, are the Joys of these.
Soon as the good old King the Story hears,
He owns the god-like Act in gen'rous Tears;
A thousand Sorrows swell his lab'ring Breast,
To see such Virtues by himself oppress'd.
He sighs, when to his Mind Reflection brings
That Avarice should be the Vice of Kings!
His royal Griefs confess his Sense of Shame;
And now he hears with Joy Carvilior's Name,
Firmly resolv'd, impatient of Delay,
Not to defer the marriage Rites a Day:
And that the Tale might e'er be told on Earth,
That such a Pattern of heroic Worth
To future Ages might be handed down,
He thrice twelve gallant Youths, of high Renown,
Selected Souls, of all the Land the Flow'r,
Appointed to adorn the bridal Hour.
They go, conducted by the Man divine,
Full of Devotion to the sacred Shrine.
Before the Altar to the God they bow;
And make, with Zeal unfeign'd, the solemn Vow:
To give, in Time of Need, the wretched Aid,
To guard from brutal Force the spotless Maid.
He owns the god-like Act in gen'rous Tears;
27
To see such Virtues by himself oppress'd.
He sighs, when to his Mind Reflection brings
That Avarice should be the Vice of Kings!
His royal Griefs confess his Sense of Shame;
And now he hears with Joy Carvilior's Name,
Firmly resolv'd, impatient of Delay,
Not to defer the marriage Rites a Day:
And that the Tale might e'er be told on Earth,
That such a Pattern of heroic Worth
To future Ages might be handed down,
He thrice twelve gallant Youths, of high Renown,
Selected Souls, of all the Land the Flow'r,
Appointed to adorn the bridal Hour.
They go, conducted by the Man divine,
Full of Devotion to the sacred Shrine.
Before the Altar to the God they bow;
And make, with Zeal unfeign'd, the solemn Vow:
To give, in Time of Need, the wretched Aid,
To guard from brutal Force the spotless Maid.
And thus, long since, the Knights of Bath began,
In Honour to the brave and godlike Man;
An Order, ever to Carvilior's Fame,
Which from the Virgins bathing took the Name.
In Honour to the brave and godlike Man;
An Order, ever to Carvilior's Fame,
Which from the Virgins bathing took the Name.
29
Philander and Cydippe, A TALE.
31
In that fair Isle, the Garden of the Main,
Where Love extended once his easy Reign,
And where his Queen her Seat of Empire chose,
And to the fabled Goddess Temples rose,
In Cyprus liv'd, long since, a virtuous Pair,
The brave Philander, and Cydippe fair;
Of whom the Muse records the mutual Flame,
The patient Hero, and the constant Dame.
Young Men, and Virgins, to my Tale draw near,
Attend a Song fit for a vestal Ear;
Approach, ye Parents, who, for sordid Gain,
Would to detested Bands the Fair constrain;
Approach, and from Agenor's Story see
How curs'd the Nuptials, where not Hearts agree:
And thou, fair Annandale, a-while attend,
Thou sweet Inspirer, and the Poet's Friend;
Where Beauty, like thy own, and Virtue shine,
Indulge the Muse, and make the Poem thine.
Where Love extended once his easy Reign,
And where his Queen her Seat of Empire chose,
And to the fabled Goddess Temples rose,
In Cyprus liv'd, long since, a virtuous Pair,
The brave Philander, and Cydippe fair;
Of whom the Muse records the mutual Flame,
The patient Hero, and the constant Dame.
Young Men, and Virgins, to my Tale draw near,
Attend a Song fit for a vestal Ear;
Approach, ye Parents, who, for sordid Gain,
Would to detested Bands the Fair constrain;
Approach, and from Agenor's Story see
How curs'd the Nuptials, where not Hearts agree:
And thou, fair Annandale, a-while attend,
Thou sweet Inspirer, and the Poet's Friend;
32
Indulge the Muse, and make the Poem thine.
Two Friends in Cyprus liv'd, Philander one,
The other Dion, rich Agenor's Son;
Their Friendship early in their Youth began,
Encreasing dayly as they rose to Man;
Their blooming Virtues had to each their Charms,
Young Heroes both renown'd in Feats of Arms:
And now the Labours of the Battel end,
Dion, but Half alive without his Friend,
Invites him to his Father's House a Guest;
Philander, near the Partner of his Breast,
Had all he wish'd; each in the other bless'd.
Tho in Philander's Heart, large Dion's Share,
He was not long without a Rival there.
His Sister in his Friend has rais'd a Flame,
A Virgin chast, and yet a Cyprian Dame,
Cydippe, carv'd in ev'ry myrtle Grove,
And call'd the Beauty of the Land of Love.
The other Dion, rich Agenor's Son;
Their Friendship early in their Youth began,
Encreasing dayly as they rose to Man;
Their blooming Virtues had to each their Charms,
Young Heroes both renown'd in Feats of Arms:
And now the Labours of the Battel end,
Dion, but Half alive without his Friend,
Invites him to his Father's House a Guest;
Philander, near the Partner of his Breast,
Had all he wish'd; each in the other bless'd.
Tho in Philander's Heart, large Dion's Share,
He was not long without a Rival there.
His Sister in his Friend has rais'd a Flame,
A Virgin chast, and yet a Cyprian Dame,
Cydippe, carv'd in ev'ry myrtle Grove,
And call'd the Beauty of the Land of Love.
His Passion long the Warrior had conceal'd,
Nor to the Maid herself his Mind reveal'd:
The nicests Thoughts, which Honour could inspire,
The Lover acts by, and corrects his Fire;
Unjust he thinks, should not the Sire approve,
To tempt a virgin Heart by Force of Love.
Her Brother, and his Friend, the best, he chose,
To whom he should the Secret first disclose.
With tenderest Concern the Brother hear'd,
But from his Father's Temper much he fear'd,
Rash, covetous, and testy, from his Youth,
And always headstrong, tho oppos'd by Truth;
His Friend by Nature mild, of gentlest Kind,
And only rich, there truly rich, in Mind.
Nor to the Maid herself his Mind reveal'd:
The nicests Thoughts, which Honour could inspire,
The Lover acts by, and corrects his Fire;
33
To tempt a virgin Heart by Force of Love.
Her Brother, and his Friend, the best, he chose,
To whom he should the Secret first disclose.
With tenderest Concern the Brother hear'd,
But from his Father's Temper much he fear'd,
Rash, covetous, and testy, from his Youth,
And always headstrong, tho oppos'd by Truth;
His Friend by Nature mild, of gentlest Kind,
And only rich, there truly rich, in Mind.
Dion, as Prudence taught, Philander leaves,
To try the Fair, how she his Love receives.
Cydippe pensive and alone he found,
With her bright Eyes fix'd stedfast on the Ground;
On her right Hand her rosy Cheek was lay'd,
All in the Posture of a love-sick Maid:
Before the Likeness of the Cyprian Queen,
So thoughtful was the Maid, he stood unseen.
From ev'ry Circumstance he judg'd her Mind,
And, long before he hear'd, her Case divin'd.
He nam'd his Friend, and gently rais'd her Head,
At which a Blush of Love her Cheeks o'erspread:
When of his Visit he the Cause had told,
These Words the Purport of her Mind unfold:
Think you too early I my Heart incline
To Love, forgive me, for the Cause is thine;
Oft' as I've hear'd you, eager to commend,
Dwell on the Virtues of your absent Friend,
I wish'd, whene'er it is ordain'd by Fate
I should exchange in Life my virgin State,
Kind Heav'n, in Pity to my Vows, may give
Such Virtues to the Man with whom I live;
But, since Philander to our Father came,
I feel the Dawnings of a virgin Flame:
Tho blind to what Degree my Lot is cast,
I hope my early Love will be my last.
To try the Fair, how she his Love receives.
Cydippe pensive and alone he found,
With her bright Eyes fix'd stedfast on the Ground;
On her right Hand her rosy Cheek was lay'd,
All in the Posture of a love-sick Maid:
Before the Likeness of the Cyprian Queen,
So thoughtful was the Maid, he stood unseen.
From ev'ry Circumstance he judg'd her Mind,
And, long before he hear'd, her Case divin'd.
He nam'd his Friend, and gently rais'd her Head,
At which a Blush of Love her Cheeks o'erspread:
When of his Visit he the Cause had told,
These Words the Purport of her Mind unfold:
34
To Love, forgive me, for the Cause is thine;
Oft' as I've hear'd you, eager to commend,
Dwell on the Virtues of your absent Friend,
I wish'd, whene'er it is ordain'd by Fate
I should exchange in Life my virgin State,
Kind Heav'n, in Pity to my Vows, may give
Such Virtues to the Man with whom I live;
But, since Philander to our Father came,
I feel the Dawnings of a virgin Flame:
Tho blind to what Degree my Lot is cast,
I hope my early Love will be my last.
The Brother hear'd with Pleasure, and approv'd,
Each worthy by the other to be lov'd,
Then, hasting first his faithful Friend to cheer,
Told him she listen'd with a willing Ear;
From him in Transport to his Sire he ran,
To intercede for the deserving Man.
He urg'd his Virtues, and his Form divine,
How high descended of a noble Line,
In Council wise a sinking Land to save,
In War the bravest, and among the brave.
The Father hear'd, silent a while he stood,
Smiling within at Virtue, and at Blood:
He, long before resolv'd, had doom'd the Fair
To proud Agathocles, a wealthy Heir;
Whose Sire, immensely rich in Land and Gold,
In Bribes, in Perjury, in Rapine, old,
Had all bequeath'd, when he his Race had run,
To the dear Likeness of himself his Son.
Each worthy by the other to be lov'd,
Then, hasting first his faithful Friend to cheer,
Told him she listen'd with a willing Ear;
From him in Transport to his Sire he ran,
To intercede for the deserving Man.
He urg'd his Virtues, and his Form divine,
How high descended of a noble Line,
In Council wise a sinking Land to save,
In War the bravest, and among the brave.
The Father hear'd, silent a while he stood,
Smiling within at Virtue, and at Blood:
35
To proud Agathocles, a wealthy Heir;
Whose Sire, immensely rich in Land and Gold,
In Bribes, in Perjury, in Rapine, old,
Had all bequeath'd, when he his Race had run,
To the dear Likeness of himself his Son.
While Dion pleads, and from a Soul sincere,
The Cause of Love, before a Judge severe,
The Lovers, conscious of their mutual Flame,
By Chance, together opportunely came:
Philander view'd her, and approach'd with Awe;
Love press'd him on, nor could the Nymph withdraw:
And now the soft Exchange of Hearts began,
Betwixt the fair one and the godlike Man:
The Victors both an equal Triumph share,
The conquer'd Hero, and the vanquish'd Fair.
While Scenes of Paradise their Thoughts employ,
While from their Breasts arise the Sighs of Joy,
While from their Lips such tender Accents flow,
As only Lovers speak, or wish to know,
Agenor's Mandate calls the Fair away,
And at his House forbids Philander's Stay:
And next for proud Agathocles he sends,
And to his Care the wretched Fair commends.
My future Son, he cry'd, and gave her Hand,
Take this an Earnest of a stricter Band,
Then turning to the Maid, a Parent's Curse
Be thine, and more, if Ought on Earth be worse,
When you refuse in Hymen's Rites to join
With him thy Father has alloted thine.
He ended thus, and with a Brow severe.
The Virgin, aw'd by Duty and by Fear,
First turn'd, and wip'd away the falling Tear,
And then reply'd. To him who gave me Breath,
The Hour my Duty ceases, welcome Death.
The Sire, displeas'd not with her Words, retir'd:
The human Brute, who view'd her Charms unfir'd,
By native Dulness free from Love's soft Pow'r,
Lik'd, or dislik'd, according to the Dow'r.
The Cause of Love, before a Judge severe,
The Lovers, conscious of their mutual Flame,
By Chance, together opportunely came:
Philander view'd her, and approach'd with Awe;
Love press'd him on, nor could the Nymph withdraw:
And now the soft Exchange of Hearts began,
Betwixt the fair one and the godlike Man:
The Victors both an equal Triumph share,
The conquer'd Hero, and the vanquish'd Fair.
While Scenes of Paradise their Thoughts employ,
While from their Breasts arise the Sighs of Joy,
While from their Lips such tender Accents flow,
As only Lovers speak, or wish to know,
Agenor's Mandate calls the Fair away,
And at his House forbids Philander's Stay:
And next for proud Agathocles he sends,
And to his Care the wretched Fair commends.
36
Take this an Earnest of a stricter Band,
Then turning to the Maid, a Parent's Curse
Be thine, and more, if Ought on Earth be worse,
When you refuse in Hymen's Rites to join
With him thy Father has alloted thine.
He ended thus, and with a Brow severe.
The Virgin, aw'd by Duty and by Fear,
First turn'd, and wip'd away the falling Tear,
And then reply'd. To him who gave me Breath,
The Hour my Duty ceases, welcome Death.
The Sire, displeas'd not with her Words, retir'd:
The human Brute, who view'd her Charms unfir'd,
By native Dulness free from Love's soft Pow'r,
Lik'd, or dislik'd, according to the Dow'r.
While poor Cydippe, in the dang'rous State,
To lose her Love, or meet a Parent's Hate,
Seeks by her Vows, to her distracting Grief,
From the fair Goddess of the Isle, Relief,
Dion, in Pity to their virtuous Love,
Himself a Brother, and a Friend, to prove,
Contrives their Meeting in a neighb'ring Grove.
He still the happy Moment hopes to find,
To turn to Reason old Agenor's Mind;
Or should the Sire persist, he wisely knew,
To Reason only was Obedience due.
To lose her Love, or meet a Parent's Hate,
Seeks by her Vows, to her distracting Grief,
From the fair Goddess of the Isle, Relief,
Dion, in Pity to their virtuous Love,
Himself a Brother, and a Friend, to prove,
Contrives their Meeting in a neighb'ring Grove.
He still the happy Moment hopes to find,
To turn to Reason old Agenor's Mind;
37
To Reason only was Obedience due.
The Scene to which the faithful Pair retreat,
At a small Distance from Agenor's Seat,
With Myrtle, and with fragrant Jess'mine, blows,
And sheds the Sweetness of the damasc Rose;
And there the Orange, of a golden Hue,
Breathes to the Smell, and glitters to the View;
The Sweets of Vi'lets rise where'er they rove:
Hence it is call'd the aromatic Grove.
While thro the Boughs the winged Natives fly
Warbling, a silver Stream runs murm'ring by.
Hither, with Virtue arm'd, the Lovers came,
To sigh their mutual and unspoted Flame;
But they enjoy'd not long the blissful State,
By Jealousy pursued, and envious Hate.
At a small Distance from Agenor's Seat,
With Myrtle, and with fragrant Jess'mine, blows,
And sheds the Sweetness of the damasc Rose;
And there the Orange, of a golden Hue,
Breathes to the Smell, and glitters to the View;
The Sweets of Vi'lets rise where'er they rove:
Hence it is call'd the aromatic Grove.
While thro the Boughs the winged Natives fly
Warbling, a silver Stream runs murm'ring by.
Hither, with Virtue arm'd, the Lovers came,
To sigh their mutual and unspoted Flame;
But they enjoy'd not long the blissful State,
By Jealousy pursued, and envious Hate.
Agathocles felt not of Love the Pow'r,
But languish'd dayly for the promis'd Dow'r;
Hence the dire Rancour of his Heart began
To him he fear'd, in Love, the happyer Man.
Spys he employ'd the Lover's Steps to trace;
Th'appointed Hour he knew, and usual Place.
But languish'd dayly for the promis'd Dow'r;
Hence the dire Rancour of his Heart began
To him he fear'd, in Love, the happyer Man.
Spys he employ'd the Lover's Steps to trace;
Th'appointed Hour he knew, and usual Place.
38
In an illfated Day Philander led
The virgin Charmer to the vi'let Bed;
As, former Vows repeated, fresh they made,
In Thought secure beneath the orange Shade,
An Arrow flew, and from a Hand unseen,
And crimson'd with the Lover's Blood the Green.
Cydippe fill'd with Shrieks the neighb'ring Plains,
And gather'd to the Place the Nymphs and Swains;
The Nymphs and Swains around astonish'd stand;
They know the Youth, and curse the barb'rous Hand:
They know, and much lament, the lovely Pair,
The brave Philander, and Cydippe fair.
The Hero to their Shed the Swains convey'd,
The Nymphs with Tears support the fainting Maid.
Soon to her Father's Ears the Rumour flys,
That by a Shaft unknown Philander dys:
He hopes, and, cruel! thence enjoys the Smart,
That Time will rase his Image from her Heart.
The virgin Charmer to the vi'let Bed;
As, former Vows repeated, fresh they made,
In Thought secure beneath the orange Shade,
An Arrow flew, and from a Hand unseen,
And crimson'd with the Lover's Blood the Green.
Cydippe fill'd with Shrieks the neighb'ring Plains,
And gather'd to the Place the Nymphs and Swains;
The Nymphs and Swains around astonish'd stand;
They know the Youth, and curse the barb'rous Hand:
They know, and much lament, the lovely Pair,
The brave Philander, and Cydippe fair.
The Hero to their Shed the Swains convey'd,
The Nymphs with Tears support the fainting Maid.
Soon to her Father's Ears the Rumour flys,
That by a Shaft unknown Philander dys:
He hopes, and, cruel! thence enjoys the Smart,
That Time will rase his Image from her Heart.
Now of her Fate the wretched Maid complains,
And feels of hopeless Love the sharpest Pains;
A thousand Thoughts against her Peace conspire,
Croud in her Mind, as Fuel feeds the Fire;
The Grove, the orange Shade, the vi'let Bed,
The native Blue now blushing stain'd with Red:
Now the pale Ghost screaming forsakes the Day;
She sickens at the Thought, and dys away.
And feels of hopeless Love the sharpest Pains;
A thousand Thoughts against her Peace conspire,
Croud in her Mind, as Fuel feeds the Fire;
The Grove, the orange Shade, the vi'let Bed,
The native Blue now blushing stain'd with Red:
39
She sickens at the Thought, and dys away.
Soon as the first, the dismal, Shock was o'er,
And she was say'd to live, and scarcely more,
Her Sire, affecting now the tender Man,
Thus from the Softness of his Heart began,
Daughter, if 'tis your Wish that Name should last,
Repent, as I forgive, thy Follys pass'd;
Prepare thyself, since I have fix'd the Hour
When I shall wed thee with an ample Dow'r:
Ten Days I grant thee more, from hence their Date:
I wait no Answer; be my Will thy Fate.
And she was say'd to live, and scarcely more,
Her Sire, affecting now the tender Man,
Thus from the Softness of his Heart began,
Daughter, if 'tis your Wish that Name should last,
Repent, as I forgive, thy Follys pass'd;
Prepare thyself, since I have fix'd the Hour
When I shall wed thee with an ample Dow'r:
Ten Days I grant thee more, from hence their Date:
I wait no Answer; be my Will thy Fate.
Dion, who knew with Grief th'appointed Day,
Advis'd the lovely Mourner to obey,
Till the last Moment bad her not despair,
But to the Pow'rs divine prefer the Pray'r,
The Pow'rs divine her Sorrows might relieve,
Nor unrewarded let her Virtue grieve:
Doubt not, my Fair, he cry'd, an Hour to find
Both to your Virtue, and your Wishes, kind.
He ended here, but had he told her more,
Her virgin Blood had never stain'd the Floor,
With Patience she had stay'd till he had us'd
The Means to rescue Innocence abus'd.
Advis'd the lovely Mourner to obey,
Till the last Moment bad her not despair,
But to the Pow'rs divine prefer the Pray'r,
The Pow'rs divine her Sorrows might relieve,
Nor unrewarded let her Virtue grieve:
Doubt not, my Fair, he cry'd, an Hour to find
Both to your Virtue, and your Wishes, kind.
He ended here, but had he told her more,
Her virgin Blood had never stain'd the Floor,
40
The Means to rescue Innocence abus'd.
The Maid, to Duty and to Love resign'd,
Conceals in Silence her distracted Mind:
Fix'd her Resolves as Fate, she waits the Day,
Nor lets her Looks, till then, her Heart betray:
And when the much expected Sun arose,
That saw the End, Cydippe, of thy Woes,
Agathocles appear'd, in all his Pride,
To take Possession of the promis'd Bride.
Her Father, Brother, both attend the Maid;
The Nymph proceeds in virgin White aray'd.
The Temple old Agenor, strange to tell!
To enter thrice assay'd, and thrice he fell;
Hence Dion would foresee th'approaching Fate,
And warn his Father 'e're it was too late;
But all in vain; he will no longer stay,
But see the Rites perform'd without Delay:
And now the wretched Bride, the constant Fair,
Of Hope itself bereft, in wild Despair,
A Ponyard drew, conceal'd beneath her Vest,
And, turning to her Father, pierc'd her Breast:
The Brother, who already felt the Smart,
The Weapon seiz'd before it reach'd her Heart.
Conceals in Silence her distracted Mind:
Fix'd her Resolves as Fate, she waits the Day,
Nor lets her Looks, till then, her Heart betray:
And when the much expected Sun arose,
That saw the End, Cydippe, of thy Woes,
Agathocles appear'd, in all his Pride,
To take Possession of the promis'd Bride.
Her Father, Brother, both attend the Maid;
The Nymph proceeds in virgin White aray'd.
The Temple old Agenor, strange to tell!
To enter thrice assay'd, and thrice he fell;
Hence Dion would foresee th'approaching Fate,
And warn his Father 'e're it was too late;
But all in vain; he will no longer stay,
But see the Rites perform'd without Delay:
And now the wretched Bride, the constant Fair,
Of Hope itself bereft, in wild Despair,
A Ponyard drew, conceal'd beneath her Vest,
And, turning to her Father, pierc'd her Breast:
The Brother, who already felt the Smart,
The Weapon seiz'd before it reach'd her Heart.
41
Just at the Entrance of the Temple stand
The brave Philander and his armed Band,
To bear away, each stedfast in his Cause,
His own by plighted Vows, and Nature's Laws:
Shrieks echo'd from within, at which he flew
Quick to the Altar, where he bled anew;
The Wound he suffer'd from his Rival's Dart
Was slight, compar'd to this, that pierc'd his Heart.
As in her Lover's Arms Cydippe lay,
Charm'd by his Voice again to view the Day,
In his Designs, the stupid Bridegroom, foil'd,
Mutt'ring retir'd, as from a Bargain spoil'd.
Agenor feels inutterable Woes:
Now his wrong Judgement in the Brute he chose,
Philander's Virtues, and reported Death,
In which he joy'd, his Child thought void of Breath,
Accuse his Soul; his silver Locks he tore,
And throw'd his aged Breast against the Floor:
Deeply he groan'd his last, and rose no more.
The pious Tear the Friend and Brother shed;
And they, whom once he wrong'd, bewail'd him dead;
With Rev'rence they perform his Obsequys,
And bear their Sorrows as beseem the wise.
The brave Philander and his armed Band,
To bear away, each stedfast in his Cause,
His own by plighted Vows, and Nature's Laws:
Shrieks echo'd from within, at which he flew
Quick to the Altar, where he bled anew;
The Wound he suffer'd from his Rival's Dart
Was slight, compar'd to this, that pierc'd his Heart.
As in her Lover's Arms Cydippe lay,
Charm'd by his Voice again to view the Day,
In his Designs, the stupid Bridegroom, foil'd,
Mutt'ring retir'd, as from a Bargain spoil'd.
Agenor feels inutterable Woes:
Now his wrong Judgement in the Brute he chose,
Philander's Virtues, and reported Death,
In which he joy'd, his Child thought void of Breath,
Accuse his Soul; his silver Locks he tore,
And throw'd his aged Breast against the Floor:
Deeply he groan'd his last, and rose no more.
The pious Tear the Friend and Brother shed;
And they, whom once he wrong'd, bewail'd him dead;
With Rev'rence they perform his Obsequys,
And bear their Sorrows as beseem the wise.
42
Soon as the Maid was from her Wound restor'd,
Her all she yielded to her plighted Lord:
Thrice twenty Seasons bless'd the virtuous Pair,
The brave Philander, and Cydippe fair.
Her all she yielded to her plighted Lord:
Thrice twenty Seasons bless'd the virtuous Pair,
The brave Philander, and Cydippe fair.
43
WILL. SOMERS, A TALE.
When the eighth Henry rul'd with iron Sway,
And taught his Wives and Subjects to obey,
When Conclaves prov'd in vain fam'd Tudor's Foes,
The Temples totter'd, and Will. Somers rose,
A short squad Figure, with a wadling Pace,
Quick Eyes, large Nose, and almost round his Face,
Thick were his Lips, and double was his Chin,
Now grave, now merry with a simple Grin.
And taught his Wives and Subjects to obey,
When Conclaves prov'd in vain fam'd Tudor's Foes,
The Temples totter'd, and Will. Somers rose,
A short squad Figure, with a wadling Pace,
Quick Eyes, large Nose, and almost round his Face,
Thick were his Lips, and double was his Chin,
Now grave, now merry with a simple Grin.
Much in the Inns of Court he lov'd to dwell,
And tippled with the Clerks of Clerkenwell,
He laugh'd, and learn'd their Jokes, what Jokes they had,
And Quarter-quibbles made his Heart right glad.
And tippled with the Clerks of Clerkenwell,
He laugh'd, and learn'd their Jokes, what Jokes they had,
And Quarter-quibbles made his Heart right glad.
44
Among the Wits our Hero gain'd a Place;
Such were the Merits of his drolling Face!
They hear'd him talk, and chuckle to his Fill,
And never fail'd to join the Laugh with Will;
Pleas'd he the Laugh prolong'd, the Laughers bless'd,
Nor saw himself the Jester and the Jest.
Such were the Merits of his drolling Face!
They hear'd him talk, and chuckle to his Fill,
And never fail'd to join the Laugh with Will;
Pleas'd he the Laugh prolong'd, the Laughers bless'd,
Nor saw himself the Jester and the Jest.
Once in a Fit cry'd the facetious Wight,
None well can be a Wit that can not write.
Then from the mould'ring Page he cull'd the Flow'r
Of Chaucer, Lydgate, learned More, and Gow'r.
Will lov'd his Country, and disdain'd to roam
For Learning farther than his native Home.
In Thought he rises as the greatest great,
And scribbles Poems, and Essays of State;
Which rais'd him, by Degrees, to such Renown,
His Name was known to ev'ry Wit in Town!
So his Discendants wise provide their Stock
From Dryden, Temple, Addison, and Locke.
None well can be a Wit that can not write.
Then from the mould'ring Page he cull'd the Flow'r
Of Chaucer, Lydgate, learned More, and Gow'r.
Will lov'd his Country, and disdain'd to roam
For Learning farther than his native Home.
In Thought he rises as the greatest great,
And scribbles Poems, and Essays of State;
Which rais'd him, by Degrees, to such Renown,
His Name was known to ev'ry Wit in Town!
So his Discendants wise provide their Stock
From Dryden, Temple, Addison, and Locke.
Will now frequents the Court, where, with Delight,
The King observ'd so new, so odd, a Sight,
And, when inform'd in what he plac'd his Skill,
He was resolv'd to crack a Joke with Will.
Each Face, he cry'd, in this bright Round survey;
And answer what I ask without Delay.
Of Cheats who seems the greatest in the Ring?
Will look'd about, and say'd, God save the King.
Henceforth the Monarch took him to his Court,
Grac'd with a Pension, for his royal Sport.
Will bow'd; the Courtiers smil'd; and with a Grin
Will inly mumbled let those laugh who win.
The King observ'd so new, so odd, a Sight,
And, when inform'd in what he plac'd his Skill,
He was resolv'd to crack a Joke with Will.
45
And answer what I ask without Delay.
Of Cheats who seems the greatest in the Ring?
Will look'd about, and say'd, God save the King.
Henceforth the Monarch took him to his Court,
Grac'd with a Pension, for his royal Sport.
Will bow'd; the Courtiers smil'd; and with a Grin
Will inly mumbled let those laugh who win.
47
A RHAPSODY ON Virtue and Pleasure, TO JAMES REYNOLDS, Esq; Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer.
49
When Virtue from the busy World retires,
After a glorious Race, the Muse admires;
Her ev'ry Step with curious Eyes she views,
And with immortal Praise the Tract pursues.
If she retreats poetic Shades among,
Where Virgil was inspir'd, and Horace sung,
(The Land of Wit and Wisdom Ages pass'd,)
Where Tully wrote, and Shaftesb'ry breath'd his last,
Or if to Asiatic Plains she flys,
To the rich Climes where eastern Odours rise,
Let her to Kilda's northern Island go,
Crown'd, like Olympus, with eternal Snow,
High on whatever Hill she makes her Bed,
Or in whatever Vale she hides her Head,
Let her beneath whatever Sky repair,
The Muse shall follow, and attend her there.
After a glorious Race, the Muse admires;
Her ev'ry Step with curious Eyes she views,
And with immortal Praise the Tract pursues.
If she retreats poetic Shades among,
Where Virgil was inspir'd, and Horace sung,
(The Land of Wit and Wisdom Ages pass'd,)
Where Tully wrote, and Shaftesb'ry breath'd his last,
Or if to Asiatic Plains she flys,
To the rich Climes where eastern Odours rise,
Let her to Kilda's northern Island go,
Crown'd, like Olympus, with eternal Snow,
50
Or in whatever Vale she hides her Head,
Let her beneath whatever Sky repair,
The Muse shall follow, and attend her there.
Reynolds, for thee, whom Suffolk Fields invite
To letter'd Ease, and Solitude's Delight,
For thee I meditate the grateful Lay,
To Justice due, what Justice bids me pay.
To letter'd Ease, and Solitude's Delight,
For thee I meditate the grateful Lay,
To Justice due, what Justice bids me pay.
Let the gay Youth indulge his am'rous Smart,
And languish to subdue the virgin Heart,
Rifle the sweetest Flow'rs, in Beauty's Pride,
For which their thousands sigh'd, and hundreds dy'd,
Thro Life's short Vigour let the Lover live
Possess'd of ev'ry Joy that Love can give.
Thro wild Ambition's Field let others flame,
Whose Love is Glory, and whose Passion Fame,
Pour on relentless, like a rapid Flood,
And reap the Harvest which was sow'd in Blood,
Harness the Steeds to the triumphant Car,
Drag at the Wheels the earthly Gods of War,
The Conqu'ror's Brow with crimson'd Laurel crown,
By Slaughter planted, and miscall'd Renown.
How false the Joys which from these Fountains rise!
A pallid Glory to the good and wise!
How true the Joys which spring from virtuous Deeds,
Where breaks no tender Heart, nor Honour bleeds!
A greatly virtuous Act unsully'd shines,
The Glory brightens, and the Joy refines.
And languish to subdue the virgin Heart,
Rifle the sweetest Flow'rs, in Beauty's Pride,
For which their thousands sigh'd, and hundreds dy'd,
Thro Life's short Vigour let the Lover live
Possess'd of ev'ry Joy that Love can give.
51
Whose Love is Glory, and whose Passion Fame,
Pour on relentless, like a rapid Flood,
And reap the Harvest which was sow'd in Blood,
Harness the Steeds to the triumphant Car,
Drag at the Wheels the earthly Gods of War,
The Conqu'ror's Brow with crimson'd Laurel crown,
By Slaughter planted, and miscall'd Renown.
How false the Joys which from these Fountains rise!
A pallid Glory to the good and wise!
How true the Joys which spring from virtuous Deeds,
Where breaks no tender Heart, nor Honour bleeds!
A greatly virtuous Act unsully'd shines,
The Glory brightens, and the Joy refines.
Not youthful Ammon in his Blaze of Day,
When Virgins sought, and Monarchs own'd, his Sway,
Knew Half the Bliss by Socrates possess'd,
That takes her Dwelling in the virtuous Breast.
Say what is Virtue, crys the sceptic Sage;
This Virtue is, in ev'ry Land and Age,
With Pleasure to relieve the Wretch from Pain,
To cloath the naked, and to count it Gain;
When to the hungry we extend our Food,
Our Appetite's indulg'd in doing Good.
When Beauty charms us with a luring Eye,
And throws her Darts at all Beholders nigh,
When in our Pow'r we see the Maid, or Wife,
Upon whose Truth, on whose unblemish'd Life,
Depends a Parent's, or a Husband's, Bliss,
'Tis Virtue then to shun the glowing Kiss;
This Virtue is, but such as few can reach:
Some Men of God are gloating while they preach.
When Virgins sought, and Monarchs own'd, his Sway,
Knew Half the Bliss by Socrates possess'd,
That takes her Dwelling in the virtuous Breast.
Say what is Virtue, crys the sceptic Sage;
This Virtue is, in ev'ry Land and Age,
With Pleasure to relieve the Wretch from Pain,
To cloath the naked, and to count it Gain;
When to the hungry we extend our Food,
Our Appetite's indulg'd in doing Good.
52
And throws her Darts at all Beholders nigh,
When in our Pow'r we see the Maid, or Wife,
Upon whose Truth, on whose unblemish'd Life,
Depends a Parent's, or a Husband's, Bliss,
'Tis Virtue then to shun the glowing Kiss;
This Virtue is, but such as few can reach:
Some Men of God are gloating while they preach.
What never-fading Laurels Scipio gains!
A Conquest greater than a thousand Spains!
The mighty Man, all other Men above,
Amidst his Triumphs drags the Chains of Love.
A Captive heav'nly fair, in whom was seen
All that was ever feign'd of Beauty's Queen,
O'er the great Leader reigns without Controul,
Is ever in his Eye, and fills his Soul:
And what the dreadful Warrior can restrain?
Why rages still the Fire thro ev'ry Vein?
With unaffected Charms, her flowing Hair,
And what is decent of her Bosom bare,
The Nymph divine before the Victor stands,
And no superior Pow'r to hold his Hands:
But, lo! he turns, and views a princely Form,
Sunk and depress'd, like Flow'rs beneath a Storm,
His Visage pale, defac'd with many a Scar,
Which Love had wrought, and the rough Hand of War;
Yet Majesty shin'd thro Misfortune's Shroud,
As shines the Sun behind a wint'ry Cloud.
“See,” crys th'illustrious Youth, “great Roman see
“The Fate of Love, the Fate of War, in me:
“I, that 'e'rewhile in royal State could ride
“Thro Ranks of Subjects and Dominions wide,
“Am now in Chains your wretched Captive led,
“To see my Bride perhaps ascend your Bed.”
He paus'd awhile, to wipe the weeping Eye,
And give a Passage to the rising Sigh:
Then crys the Youth, “if princely Cares can move,
“And if your Heart has ever bled for Love,
“Plunder my Houses, and my Kingdom seize,
“Dispose of all as shall the Victor please;
“But give me back what I esteem divine,
“What by our Vows and mutual Love is mine,
“My ever-lov'd, as yet my virgin, Bride,
“That stands dejected by my Conqu'ror's Side.”
A Conquest greater than a thousand Spains!
The mighty Man, all other Men above,
Amidst his Triumphs drags the Chains of Love.
A Captive heav'nly fair, in whom was seen
All that was ever feign'd of Beauty's Queen,
O'er the great Leader reigns without Controul,
Is ever in his Eye, and fills his Soul:
And what the dreadful Warrior can restrain?
Why rages still the Fire thro ev'ry Vein?
With unaffected Charms, her flowing Hair,
And what is decent of her Bosom bare,
53
And no superior Pow'r to hold his Hands:
But, lo! he turns, and views a princely Form,
Sunk and depress'd, like Flow'rs beneath a Storm,
His Visage pale, defac'd with many a Scar,
Which Love had wrought, and the rough Hand of War;
Yet Majesty shin'd thro Misfortune's Shroud,
As shines the Sun behind a wint'ry Cloud.
“See,” crys th'illustrious Youth, “great Roman see
“The Fate of Love, the Fate of War, in me:
“I, that 'e'rewhile in royal State could ride
“Thro Ranks of Subjects and Dominions wide,
“Am now in Chains your wretched Captive led,
“To see my Bride perhaps ascend your Bed.”
He paus'd awhile, to wipe the weeping Eye,
And give a Passage to the rising Sigh:
Then crys the Youth, “if princely Cares can move,
“And if your Heart has ever bled for Love,
“Plunder my Houses, and my Kingdom seize,
“Dispose of all as shall the Victor please;
“But give me back what I esteem divine,
“What by our Vows and mutual Love is mine,
“My ever-lov'd, as yet my virgin, Bride,
“That stands dejected by my Conqu'ror's Side.”
54
The gallant Chief, who loves beyond all Bounds,
Feels from the Prince's Words a thousand Wounds;
A siercer War now rages in his Breast
Than when in Fields of Fight by Legions press'd:
The little winged God is loth to part
With his Dominion o'er so great a Heart:
He strives to gain a Conquest by Surprise,
And plays his Light'ning from her radiant Eyes:
The Sight of him whom dead she thought before,
Whom her Fears told her she should see no more,
Disarms the Foe of Beauty fell Despair,
Bids the Cheek bloom, and fairer makes the Fair.
Now to the Conqu'ror's Eyes a Prospect shines,
Worth the vast Purchase of the di'mond Mines,
The Bed of Love, luxuriant of Delights,
Where Youth and Beauty join the secret Rites!
But Virtue, always at our Hero's Side,
With Wisdom comes, her ever-faithful Guide:
In their true Light they shew the Joys of Love,
When gain'd by Virtue, they're all Price above;
Rais'd on another's Woe, acquir'd by Vice,
And are not mutual, they're below all Price.
The Roman acts the greatly glorious Part;
He tugs the Arrow from his bleeding Heart,
With his own Hands unbinds the Prince's Chains,
And bids him think no more of former Pains:
“Your conquer'd Land,” he crys, “and Bride possess,
“And be my Blessing that I others bless:
“To your fond Arms your Bliss I thus restore:”
Then turn'd the Chief, and ne'er beheld her more.
Thus Scipio acted, by no Bible taught,
But Nature's Book, which God himself has wrote.
Feels from the Prince's Words a thousand Wounds;
A siercer War now rages in his Breast
Than when in Fields of Fight by Legions press'd:
The little winged God is loth to part
With his Dominion o'er so great a Heart:
He strives to gain a Conquest by Surprise,
And plays his Light'ning from her radiant Eyes:
The Sight of him whom dead she thought before,
Whom her Fears told her she should see no more,
Disarms the Foe of Beauty fell Despair,
Bids the Cheek bloom, and fairer makes the Fair.
Now to the Conqu'ror's Eyes a Prospect shines,
Worth the vast Purchase of the di'mond Mines,
The Bed of Love, luxuriant of Delights,
Where Youth and Beauty join the secret Rites!
But Virtue, always at our Hero's Side,
With Wisdom comes, her ever-faithful Guide:
In their true Light they shew the Joys of Love,
When gain'd by Virtue, they're all Price above;
Rais'd on another's Woe, acquir'd by Vice,
And are not mutual, they're below all Price.
The Roman acts the greatly glorious Part;
He tugs the Arrow from his bleeding Heart,
With his own Hands unbinds the Prince's Chains,
And bids him think no more of former Pains:
55
“And be my Blessing that I others bless:
“To your fond Arms your Bliss I thus restore:”
Then turn'd the Chief, and ne'er beheld her more.
Thus Scipio acted, by no Bible taught,
But Nature's Book, which God himself has wrote.
Ye Sons of Virtue here your Off'rings bring,
And all ye Sons of Verse who know to sing;
Pluck all, ye Nymphs, the Evergreens which bloom;
With ev'ry fragrant Herb adorn his Tomb;
With Laurels crown the Bust, crown it with Bays,
And sing the Song of everlasting Praise.
And all ye Sons of Verse who know to sing;
Pluck all, ye Nymphs, the Evergreens which bloom;
With ev'ry fragrant Herb adorn his Tomb;
With Laurels crown the Bust, crown it with Bays,
And sing the Song of everlasting Praise.
Forget not in the Verse the noble Mind,
That cherish'd Worth where e'er he Worth could find;
Who Fate alike, and Cæsar's Frowns, defy'd,
When for Redress to him th'unhappy cry'd;
Who to the wrong'd open'd his friendly Gate,
And succour'd all the greatly injur'd Great;
Before whose Eyes Folly could never stand,
Nor dar'd Oppression to uplift her Hand:
The Love of all, thro Life, was his Reward,
And Virtue, in the worst of Times, his Guard.
For him their Vows to Jove the People send,
And Cæsar wanted Atticus his Friend.
That cherish'd Worth where e'er he Worth could find;
Who Fate alike, and Cæsar's Frowns, defy'd,
When for Redress to him th'unhappy cry'd;
Who to the wrong'd open'd his friendly Gate,
And succour'd all the greatly injur'd Great;
Before whose Eyes Folly could never stand,
Nor dar'd Oppression to uplift her Hand:
The Love of all, thro Life, was his Reward,
And Virtue, in the worst of Times, his Guard.
56
And Cæsar wanted Atticus his Friend.
Ye Princes by destructive Passions led,
Who mount without a Blush th'adult'rous Bed,
Who hear your Subjects all around complain
Of Wrongs, repeated Wrongs, on Land and Main,
While all your Counsels are yourselves to please,
And while ye batten in inglorious Ease,
'Tis Virtue only can your Crowns adorn:
O! learn to merit that to which ye're born!
Think of th'illustrious dead, whose ev'ry Name
Is borne triumphant on the Wings of Fame:
In ev'ry Corner of the Earth they're known,
And all Eternity to come's their own:
And, O! ye Sons who next to Empire stand,
Heirs to Dominion over Sea and Land,
Waste not the Hours of Youth in shameful Jars,
Wage with a Father no domestic Wars;
Let it be never say'd ye go to School
To the pert Coxcomb, and delib'rate Fool:
Seek not the Praise of such who gain no Praise;
Like Nero dance, nor fiddle, out your Days:
Attend the friendly Voice! 'tis Glory calls
To shine in Council, and to scale the Walls.
Shake the rapacious Statesman off, the Slave
Whom Gold can buy; shake off the Fool and Knave.
Turn o'er the sacred Volume of the Laws,
By your Forefathers made in Virtue's Cause:
See what obnoxious Vices still remain,
Which there's no Law, no Bridle, to restrain;
Study to make the Nation's Freedom sure,
The Lives and Propertys of all secure:
In doing these ye act the princely Part,
And build your Empires in the People's Heart;
No Guards ye then shall need, where-e'er ye go;
There is no Danger where there is no Foe.
These are the Virtues of exalted Souls,
Which no mean Care, nor abject Fear, controuls.
Who mount without a Blush th'adult'rous Bed,
Who hear your Subjects all around complain
Of Wrongs, repeated Wrongs, on Land and Main,
While all your Counsels are yourselves to please,
And while ye batten in inglorious Ease,
'Tis Virtue only can your Crowns adorn:
O! learn to merit that to which ye're born!
Think of th'illustrious dead, whose ev'ry Name
Is borne triumphant on the Wings of Fame:
In ev'ry Corner of the Earth they're known,
And all Eternity to come's their own:
And, O! ye Sons who next to Empire stand,
Heirs to Dominion over Sea and Land,
Waste not the Hours of Youth in shameful Jars,
Wage with a Father no domestic Wars;
Let it be never say'd ye go to School
To the pert Coxcomb, and delib'rate Fool:
Seek not the Praise of such who gain no Praise;
Like Nero dance, nor fiddle, out your Days:
Attend the friendly Voice! 'tis Glory calls
To shine in Council, and to scale the Walls.
57
Whom Gold can buy; shake off the Fool and Knave.
Turn o'er the sacred Volume of the Laws,
By your Forefathers made in Virtue's Cause:
See what obnoxious Vices still remain,
Which there's no Law, no Bridle, to restrain;
Study to make the Nation's Freedom sure,
The Lives and Propertys of all secure:
In doing these ye act the princely Part,
And build your Empires in the People's Heart;
No Guards ye then shall need, where-e'er ye go;
There is no Danger where there is no Foe.
These are the Virtues of exalted Souls,
Which no mean Care, nor abject Fear, controuls.
The glorious Opportunity's not giv'n
To all, like Brutus, to apply to Heav'n
Before the People, who astonish'd stand,
To drive a Tarquin out, and free the Land.
Who in an humble Walk of Life are hurl'd,
With Talents to adorn, and rule, the World,
And such there are, deny'd by Stars unkind
The Seasons to exert the noble Mind,
Should watch Occasions, and attend the Hours,
And catch the Moments, to indulge their Pow'rs:
Can ye not give a groaning Kingdom Rest?
Then help the injur'd Wife, or Maid distress'd:
First with your Friends who want divide your Store,
And open wide your hospitable Door:
Is this too much? Is Fate a Niggard here?
And, if you give, is Charity too dear?
Then give Advice, Advice Relief affords:
Pour in the Balm of comfortable Words.
Virtue, that seldom sleeps, herself reveals,
Or in the giving Hand, or Heart that feels.
To all, like Brutus, to apply to Heav'n
Before the People, who astonish'd stand,
To drive a Tarquin out, and free the Land.
Who in an humble Walk of Life are hurl'd,
With Talents to adorn, and rule, the World,
And such there are, deny'd by Stars unkind
The Seasons to exert the noble Mind,
Should watch Occasions, and attend the Hours,
And catch the Moments, to indulge their Pow'rs:
58
Then help the injur'd Wife, or Maid distress'd:
First with your Friends who want divide your Store,
And open wide your hospitable Door:
Is this too much? Is Fate a Niggard here?
And, if you give, is Charity too dear?
Then give Advice, Advice Relief affords:
Pour in the Balm of comfortable Words.
Virtue, that seldom sleeps, herself reveals,
Or in the giving Hand, or Heart that feels.
All is not Virtue which Men Virtue call;
Enthusiastic Fools will give up all:
Is to the needy one of these a Friend?
He only lends to Heav'n as Us'rers lend:
Believ'd he not that God would doubly pay,
He would not give a single Groat away:
He sees not for himself; nor can he see;
Nor acts he thus, because it thus should be:
These are the Fools, the Madmen these at best,
Who render their Religion but a Jest.
What? Give up all, give all I have, ye say:
To follow what, give all I have away?
'Tis not the Cry of God, nor Nature's Cry:
Is Mankind dearer to myself than I?
Dearest to me the nearest are in Life;
Dear are my Children, dear my blameless Wife.
Enthusiastic Fools will give up all:
Is to the needy one of these a Friend?
He only lends to Heav'n as Us'rers lend:
Believ'd he not that God would doubly pay,
He would not give a single Groat away:
He sees not for himself; nor can he see;
Nor acts he thus, because it thus should be:
These are the Fools, the Madmen these at best,
Who render their Religion but a Jest.
What? Give up all, give all I have, ye say:
To follow what, give all I have away?
'Tis not the Cry of God, nor Nature's Cry:
Is Mankind dearer to myself than I?
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Dear are my Children, dear my blameless Wife.
Of all who prostitute fair Virtue's Name,
None ridicule her more, or more can shame,
Than those, with Fortune's Favours richly clad,
Who are good Men because they are not bad.
This has in Bags two hundred thousand clear,
And that in Land ten thousand Pounds a Year:
No Murders they, and they no Thefts, commit,
Nor scandalise their Neighbours with their Wit;
They neither give, nor spend, to wrong their Heirs;
They pay their Debts, believe, and go to Pray'rs:
To the worst Vice, to Avarice, these Slaves,
These negative good Men, are horrid Knaves.
Receive a Tale, these Monsters to expose,
In homely Verse, which Æsop told in Prose.
None ridicule her more, or more can shame,
Than those, with Fortune's Favours richly clad,
Who are good Men because they are not bad.
This has in Bags two hundred thousand clear,
And that in Land ten thousand Pounds a Year:
No Murders they, and they no Thefts, commit,
Nor scandalise their Neighbours with their Wit;
They neither give, nor spend, to wrong their Heirs;
They pay their Debts, believe, and go to Pray'rs:
To the worst Vice, to Avarice, these Slaves,
These negative good Men, are horrid Knaves.
Receive a Tale, these Monsters to expose,
In homely Verse, which Æsop told in Prose.
An ugly Mongrel in a Manger lay,
Well fill'd with Oats, the Rack above with Hay,
Where in his Stall confin'd a gallant Steed,
Swift in the Race, and of a gen'rous Breed,
Stood pinch'd with Hunger, yet deny'd to eat
By the curs'd Cur, who could not taste the Meat.
Such are the Whelps of Fortune who refuse
To spare a Part of what they can not use,
The Sons of Chance, Humanity's Disgrace:
Out, out, ye Dogs, and give the worthyer Place.
Well fill'd with Oats, the Rack above with Hay,
Where in his Stall confin'd a gallant Steed,
Swift in the Race, and of a gen'rous Breed,
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By the curs'd Cur, who could not taste the Meat.
Such are the Whelps of Fortune who refuse
To spare a Part of what they can not use,
The Sons of Chance, Humanity's Disgrace:
Out, out, ye Dogs, and give the worthyer Place.
Sweet are the Pleasures of the bounteous Soul!
He fears no Poyson lurking in the Bowl:
Where-e'er he goes they wish him there to stay;
For Discontent before him flys away:
All Eyes, which see him, see him with Delight;
His Virtue is his Guard by Day and Night:
The little faithful Ministers of Sleep,
Whene'er his Eyes are clos'd, their Vigils keep;
They drive all Images of Horror thence,
And none admit ingrateful to the Sense:
Peaceful his Slumbers are; and, if he dreams,
Thro flow'ry Meads he walks by chrystal Streams:
O'er Hills he flys, unbounded in his Sight,
And meets with Nothing to obstruct his Flight;
At Will he views the ev'ry pleasing Scene,
Gardens and Groves of everlasting Green:
And when he wakes he wakes to sweet Content,
The fair Reflection of a Life well spent.
He fears no Poyson lurking in the Bowl:
Where-e'er he goes they wish him there to stay;
For Discontent before him flys away:
All Eyes, which see him, see him with Delight;
His Virtue is his Guard by Day and Night:
The little faithful Ministers of Sleep,
Whene'er his Eyes are clos'd, their Vigils keep;
They drive all Images of Horror thence,
And none admit ingrateful to the Sense:
Peaceful his Slumbers are; and, if he dreams,
Thro flow'ry Meads he walks by chrystal Streams:
O'er Hills he flys, unbounded in his Sight,
And meets with Nothing to obstruct his Flight;
At Will he views the ev'ry pleasing Scene,
Gardens and Groves of everlasting Green:
And when he wakes he wakes to sweet Content,
The fair Reflection of a Life well spent.
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These are the Pleasures, these the Joys divine,
Which Scipio's were, and, Reynolds, now are thine;
Thine is the Blessing which to few belong,
Th'unruffled Mind, and thine th'immortal Song.
Which Scipio's were, and, Reynolds, now are thine;
Thine is the Blessing which to few belong,
Th'unruffled Mind, and thine th'immortal Song.
St. Kilda is the most western of the northwest Isles of Scotland: the Description which is given of it has something extraordinary and poetical in it. This Island is fenced all round with steep Rocks, excepting a Bay that is south-east, which is not a Harbour fit to receive a Ship; therefore it is almost impossible to land but in a Calm, and then it must be by climbing. The Soil is not unfruitful, and there is great Plenty of Fish and Fowl. The few Inhabitants, as they are by Nature separated from the World, and consequently know Nothing of the Arts of Luxury and Gain, are an innocent People. They have no Money among them, but deal in Exchange of Commoditys. Here is an Epitomy of the World as painted by the Poets in its State of Infancy and Innocence!
| Mr. Cooke's Original Poems | |