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Three poems

I. To the Right Honourable the Lord High-Chancellor of Great Britain; on His Lordship's being created Earl of Macclesfield. II. To the Right Honourable the Lord Parker; on his return from his travels. III. To the same, the Right Honourable the Lord Parker; on his marriage with Mrs. Mary Lane. All written by L. Eusden
 

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To the Right Honourable the Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain; On His being Created EARL of MACCLESFIELD.

------ Dubiis quis Litibus addere finem
Justior, & mersum latebris educere Verum?
Claud.

Desert, oft hid in Shades, when Monarchs trace,
And unknown Excellence with Titles grace,
Malicious Tongues the Fav'rite's Actions scan,
Eager to check, and damp the soaring Man.
But Envy here in dumb Confusion lies,
She from new Merit sees new Honours rise.
If some brave Soldier the high Walls had won,
None ask'd, why CÆSAR gave the Mural-Crown.
Virtue's long-winding Temple first was past,
The gilded Dome of Honour shone the last.
One is th'Applause, here ev'n pleas'd Factions sing
The worthy Subject, and the bounteous King.
How shall I paint the Circle of thy Praise?
Thy Youth blaz'd bright, still brighter grew the Blaze.
Prophetic GRANTA with a Mother's Joy
Saw Greatness omen'd in the manly Boy,

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Who mad'st thy Studies thy belov'd Concern,
Nor could She teach so fast, as Thou would'st learn.
Thee, Thee with Pride these Seats their own declare,
Which the blest TRIADE's Name majestick bear:
Still absent Thee our Groves, and Muses mourn,
Still sighing Echoes the sad Sound return,
And CAM with Tears supplies his streaming Urn.
The Boy-Age past, the sprightly Youth was shown,
Early distinguish'd in the Pleading-Gown.
How quick t'explore the Hinges of each Cause,
And loose with Ease the Knots of twisted Laws!
Such Industry thro' Arts would force its Way,
Tho' Titan had refus'd his better Clay:
But with so bright a Genius Thou wast born,
As well might look on Industry with Scorn.
Whene'er Thou spak'st, so melting was thy Tongue,
That ev'n thy list'ning Foes not thought Thee long.
They the sweet Pleader own'd, tho' to their Cost,
While by his Sweetness they their Suit had lost.
By slow Degrees some gain at last a Name,
And on the Verge of Life arrive at Fame:
In Thee surprizing Happiness was seen,
Mature in Glory, when in Years but green.
Thus, blest with richer Soil, and warmer Skies,
Peruvian Gardens Northern Fruits despise;
Ripe Melons in four Months with pain We raise,
Delicious There they grow in thirty Days.
While-e'er a God-like Soul shall Chains detest,
And Love of Freedom fire a British Breast,
So long His Praise shall British Annals tell,
Who rescu'd beauteous Liberty so well.
The finish'd Orator they will record,
When Words each Action, Actions grac'd each Word.
Such was the Music of Thy Eloquence,
It would have pleas'd without the Nerves of Sense:
Yet with such Nerves of Sense all Parts were strung,
They had flow'd sweet from a Barbarian Tongue.

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At TULLY's Voice the Heart of MOLO bled,
Tears, for his GREECE outvy'd, the Rhodian shed:
TULLY, if living, would share MOLO's Doom,
And weeping mourn in Thee his conquer'd ROME.
I pass the Steps to thy exalted State,
And at once view Thee in Meridian Height.
Oft has that glorious Station been supply'd
By those who bloom'd their Country's Darling Pride.
With great Fore-runners to contend in Fame
Shews the Mind's Greatness, and a Heav'n-born Flame:
Thy daring Soul pursues still nobler Ends,
And first it rivals Virtues, next transcends.
For Arts, for Learning, the Renown'd must yield,
And VERULAM be lost in MACCLESFIELD.
When the PEDALII solemnly adore
Their Gods, they Justice in their Land implore;
This comprehensive Boon is their Request,
They, blest with Justice, are for ever blest.
If to those Indians thou wert known, their Pray'r
Would be to Heav'n, that Heav'n thy Life would spare,
And thither Thee transplant to rule the State;
Or would a Ruler there, like Thee, create.
A deathless Piece may some new TITIAN give,
Bid Thee and Justice in one Canvass live:
Or shall the Sculptor's Hand, thy Acts to tell,
TRAJAN's proud Column in nice Art excel?
Where with his glitt'ring Troops encompass'd round,
Swift from the Warrior-Horse he leaps a-ground,
Up-lifts the drooping Dame:—Her Plaints were long,
Patient He heard 'em, and redress'd her Wrong.
The curious Chissel has the Passions shown,
Grief glooms, and Joy smiles in th'enliven'd Stone.
Here each rough Vet'ran, touch'd with Woe, appears,
And silent melts in undissembl'd Tears:
Just CÆSAR! there glad Legions shout around,
And we with sweet Delusion hear the Sound.
But see! the pleasing Theme of future Times,
A youthful PARKER shines in foreign Climes,

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Who travels with such Stores of Learning fraught,
As few have ever from long Travels brought.
O! may I hail the Day, when He shall come
Adorn'd with Arts of various Nations home!
When Thou shalt view with Pride confest thy Son,
While CICERO was not in his MARCUS known.
He to thy Fame shall gloriously aspire,
And full reflect the Lustre of his Sire.
Thee, wond'rous Man! the Muse delighted sings,
And with Ambition strikes the Vocal Strings.
She owns, she fiercely burns thy Smiles to gain,
Who art no Stranger to th'Aönian Train.
Thy Friendship GARTH with ADDISON could share,
And HUGHES and ROWE were thy peculiar Care.
O! deeply vers'd in Mysteries divine,
Scorn not the Bard, who scorns the fabl'd NINE;
Who from APOLLO's guilty Altars flies,
And vows to Heav'n a purer Sacrifice,
To the true GOD who consecrates his Lays,
That founded All Things, and that All Things sways:
The Poet's Laurels He ordains to grow,
And, when they fade, can fadeless Wreaths bestow.
But I, too lavish of thy Time, prolong
Untuneful Numbers, and an artless Song.
Anxious with different Views of EUROPE's State,
GEORGE and his Counsellors thy Counsels wait.
ASTRÆA on my Verse begins to frown;
I hear the Widows sigh, and Orphans groan.
I dare no more pursue th'inviting Strain,
Lest, while thy list'ning Ears I, pleas'd, detain,
I give to Thousands, by thy Absence, Pain.
Cambridge, January 24, 1721/22.

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To the Right Honourable the LORD PARKER; ON HIS Return from His Travels.

Nectite jam lætæ candentia fila sorores.
Statius.

The Muse, that trac'd Thee in far distant Climes,
And sung thy Sire in proud, ambitious Rhimes,
The Table of her Vow, these Numbers brings,
And, with thy Safety pleas'd, thy Welcome sings.
If grateful to soft Babes the Mother's Breast,
To weary'd Hinds if grateful balmy Rest,
If TITAN's Beams to those beneath the Pole,
Or Sounds of Conquest to the Heroe's Soul,
Or to the loving Swain his Fair One's Smile,
Then art Thou grateful to thy native Isle.
Fair Liberty, with her delightful Train
Of Arts and Plenty, Thou review'st again;
A Goddess of a sweet, attractive Mien,
Rarely, ah! rarely in thy Travels seen!
Say, to thy Eyes what Countries yet have show'd
A Court so glorious, or a King so good?

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Here both the Ruler, and the Rul'd agree
To form an universal Harmony.
The People's Welfare is the Sov'raign's Will,
That Will with Pride his Ministers fulfil;
Great GEORGE inspires, and animates the whole,
They the mov'd Organs, He the moving Soul.
Thus at SEGOVIA (wond'rous to behold!)
An Engine spreads, and prints, and cuts the Gold:
The ductile Ingot, by degrees more fine,
This Part distends; that, figuring, stamps the Coin:
A Third, in rouling, pares the shining Plate,
And trims it to due Shape, and standard Weight:
The various Springs are all in Motion seen,
But 'tis one Water moves the vast Machine.
With diff'rent Glories diff'rent Lands are blest,
In Paint soft ITALY excels the rest:
Yet with her Paint the curious Indian vies
In feather'd Imag'ry, and genuine Dies.
There Birds, beyond the Peacock's gawdy Shew,
Spread brighter Colours, Iris, than thy Bow.
Their Coats imbibe the Sun's deep-painting Rays,
And MONTEZUMA's Palace seem'd to blaze,
While bold FERNANDO, dumb with Wonder, spy'd
Dead Southern Monarchs rang'd in plumy Pride:
The flowing Robes true Majesty maintain'd
With Purple, which a heav'nly Tincture stain'd;
Not wrought with Art, so elegantly fine,
The speaking Figures in rich Arras shine,
So justly inter-spers'd are Shades with Light,
That the nice-mingl'd Plumes deceive the Sight;
In haughty Frowns the big, black Heroes live,
Not RAPHAEL's Hand a sprightlier Warmth could give,
Nor GUIDO's Pencil nobler Airs impart,
Nor TITIAN's Strokes steal swifter on the Heart:
These downy Pictures bloom for ever young,
Than Paint more beauteous, and than Paint more strong.
But let th'Italian Canvass vital glow,
And FLORIDA her woven Plumage show;

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Let foreign Chissels soften Rocks to Life,
And boast, they rival Nature in the Strife;
In Arts of War BRITANNIA braves the Field,
Alike in Arts of Peace untaught to yield.
Freedom, her Product, her learn'd Sons excites
To happier Views, and more exalted Flights:
They make, by still improving what was known,
All Climes, all Ages, and all Tongues their Own.
The Greecian Muses their old Dresses scorn,
And Roman Poets seem in Albion born.
In vain for Sciences would Britons roam,
They find the World epitomiz'd at Home.
Thro' whate'er Regions Thee thy Travels drew,
Those Regions envious of thy Country grew.
They look'd, and look'd again, and own'd Thee Young,
And silent wonder'd, whence such Learning sprung.
If Thou for Arts distinguish'd shin'st so soon,
What Glories must adorn thy Manhood's Noon?
Such Brightness has the Copy, they begin
To think, how bright is then the Origin!
Fain would I the tumultuous Joys unfold,
Which in thy glorious Father's Bosom roul'd,
When he beheld his Darling Pride again
Safe from strange Lands, and Dangers of the Main,
Beheld in Thee renew'd his youthful Frame,
The same thy Motions, and thy Looks the same;
He clasp'd Thee close, and gave a silent Kiss,
And sunk beneath the mighty Flow of Bliss:
A Torrent of Delight oppress'd his Sense;
Then first his Tongue knew Want of Eloquence.
He hop'd, he wish'd to see Thy Fame advance,
For Merit follows not Inheritance:
His Hopes, his Wishes He transcended found,
In Thee with ripen'd, in-born Virtues crown'd.
Illustrious Ancestors turn pale to see
A grov'ling, dark, degen'rate Progeny:
AUGUSTUS wept, and gave no Burial-Room
To both th'inglorious JULIA'S in his Tomb:

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Brave AFRICANUS SCIPIO too disdain'd,
When SCIPIO lay by Cowardise enchain'd.
But Thee sublime Paternal Trains of Light
Urge on to Greatness, and provoke thy Flight;
Thy Breast burns fierce with emulating Fires,
And from new Praises to new Praise aspires.
The World expects (I prophesie afore)
Much from Thee, and Thou still wilt answer more.
The Muse last strays, where the soft Graces sport,
Views the bright Ring, and traverses the Court.
Some foreign Climates boast a warmer Sun,
But BRITAIN never was in Nymphs out-shone.
Happy the Fair, who shall to Love encline
A Heart so gen'rous, and so true as Thine.
Thou, yet untouch'd, shalt feel th'Idalian Boy,
Know pleasing Trouble, and a painful Joy.
Thy King, thy Country earnestly demand
From Thee a Lineage by the Nuptial-Band.
Thou ow'st of PARKERS a long, num'rous Race,
Patriots, to yield at once Defence, and Grace;
Who with new Arts may future Times adorn,
And counsel British Monarchs yet un-born.
Cambridge, August 25, 1722.

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To the Right Honourable the LORD PARKER On His Marriage with Mrs. MARY LANE.

------ Quippe hæc Concordia Vobis,
Hic Amor est: ------
------ Ite per Annos,
Sæculaque, & priscæ Titulos præcedite Famæ!
Statius.

Again, my Muse, the Lyre to PARKER string,
Again, in Transport, thy lov'd PARKER sing!
Awhile forbear to sound in mournful Strains
Brave Heroes gasping on Judëan Plains:
For softer Conquests quit the martial Throng,
'Tis HYMEN calls Thee from great TASSO's Song.
The wish'd-for Days their Courses have begun,
(Ye Days, for ever in white Order run!
For ever, PHOEBUS, Years on Years display
As sweet and lovely, as the Bridal Day!)
The Time is come, the Time we long'd to see,
And Marriage all our Hopes shall crown in Thee;
Thy future Race our ev'ry Wish employ:
A PARKER's Nuptials grow a Nation's Joy.

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Here, could I with a Roman Genius flow,
In lively Colours the rich Scene should glow.
No ruffling Winds should vex the cloudless Sky,
But Zephyrs breathe as soft, as Lovers sigh.
SATYRS and frisking FAUNS should quit the Woods,
And sportive NAIDS dance upon the Floods.
The Torch of HYMEN should aloft be born,
And Gods and Goddesses the Pomp adorn.
A fragrant Garland, see! divinely made,
Swift HERMES brings from the Mænalian Shade.
See EVAN! see APOLLO's beauteous Face!
Both shine immortal with a bloomy Grace.
Once CYTHERËA, pierc'd by DIOMED,
Mov'd not JOVE's Pity, tho' to JOVE she fled:
Since that, in genial Triumphs she delights,
In milder Conflicts, and more pleasing Fights.
Behold her Chariot, drawn with glossy Doves!
Behold her Train of little, flying Loves!
Hither they wing their Way t'unload their Freight,
Each, labouring, pants beneath some precious Weight;
These to the Bride with Indian Treasures come,
Those bear the Spoils of Ocean's rifl'd Womb:
Diamonds, and Pearls, and Amethysts we view,
With Iacinths yellow, and with Sapphires blue.
Th'unchanging Em'rald's Verdure all approve,
Delightful Emblem of unchanging Love.
Now the whole Paphian Throng employ'd is seen,
Obedient to the Nods of Beauty's Queen.
Some deck the Gates, and Myrtles twine around,
Or with Sabëan Odours strew the Ground.
Some pour Ambrosial Streams, whilst others light
A thousand golden Lamps, and chase the Night.
The Nymphs attend with Cannisters of Flow'rs,
And smiling Pleasure leads the dancing Hours.
Sudden two Rosie Wreaths drop from above;
Accept the heav'nly Gifts, which Concord wove.
The busie Graces, all assisting, stand,
Each plies her Office with a dext'rous Hand:

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They dress the lovely Maid, in every Part,
With seeming Negligence, but study'd Art.
Great JUNO, moving with majestick Pride,
Conducts her darling Charge, the beauteous Bride.
VENUS her powerful Cestos brought with Care,
Kindly to lend new Glories to the Fair,
But found th'enchanting Girdle needless there.
There native Sweetness, which no Verse can tell,
Un-artful Looks, and soft Deportment dwell,
Un-sully'd Innocence, and sprightly Youth,
Eternal Love, join'd with eternal Truth.
How on her Face the varying Blushes rise!
How quick bright Gleams shoot trembling from her Eyes!
Lillies may spring, and opening Roses blow,
And to her Cheeks their Rival Colours show;
Not the fair Lilly, nor the Rosie Dye
Can with her Mind's un-fading Beauties vie.
O Bridegroom! by propitious Fates decreed,
Where others fail'd of Conquest, to succeed!
With ATALANTA thus rash Lovers strove,
But 'twas HIPPOMENES first gain'd her Love;
'Twas Love alone her airy Swiftness stay'd;
The golden Fruit had never stopp'd the Maid.
Oft foreign Nymphs, by too vain Passions led,
Have secret wish'd to share thy Nuptial Bed;
Oft pray'd, that CUPID's Pow'r thy Heart would melt,
That Thou might'st feel the Tortures, They had felt.
The God comply'd:—The Love-sick PARKER mourn'd,
But not for you, alas! ye Nymphs, He burn'd.
The God, for your Revenge, gave fiery Pain;
But PARKER could not love, and love in vain.
Yet many a Day, and many a sleepless Night
Sighing He past, a Stranger to Delight.
At length embolden'd He his Flame confest,
His Looks, his Accents mov'd the Charmer's Breast,
So languish'd He awhile, for ever to be blest.
Hail wedded Love! of Joys the Source sincere!
Un-pall'd by present Grief, or future Fear.

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Thy Raptures roul on Raptures without End,
While lawless Pleasures racking Pains attend.
In EDEN's blissful Earth Thou took'st thy Rise,
And still in every Land can'st make a PARADISE.
Thrice happy Pair! the weary'd, fainting Muse
Receives new Transports from fresh, opening Views.
She sees a long, un-born, Patrician Race,
Who their own great Fore-fathers proudly trace,
Nor for Examples of bright Virtue roam,
But find enough to emulate at Home.
The Prospect here how infinitely sweet,
When Youth weds Youth, and blooming Ages meet!
Unlike the Practice of declining Beaus,
Who, spent in shameless Revels, want Repose:
Sick of a vitious World they seek a Wife,
And providently take a Nurse for Life.
Beauty with Vigour should be still ally'd,
In Heaven, ALCIDES, HEBE was thy Bride.
Illustrious Youth! for public Glories born,
This Bridal Song with wonted Smiles adorn.
The Critic's Sting is in thy Candour lost,
Thou, who can'st spy most Faults, forgiv'st the most.
Wit, poiz'd with Judgment, in thy Soul combines,
And Learning always with Good-nature shines.
Oft Bards, who strive to raise some Fav'rite Name,
Relie on Hear-say, and thence build a Fame;
Or bid their Fancies rove without Restraint,
And give him all the Beauties they can paint.
But I Thy Virtues never can display
In a false Lustre, and too bright a Day:
These Eyes have seen the Wonders of thy Youth,
And I sing boldly, what I sing with Truth.
Cambridge, October 9, 1722.
FINIS.