The Works of Hildebrand Jacob ... Containing Poems on Various Subjects, and Occasions; With the Fatal Constancy, a Tragedy; and Several Pieces in Prose. The Greatest Part Never Before Publish'd |
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 | The Works of Hildebrand Jacob |  |
150
Providence.
Plato
, and Socrates were not
So happy, as the empty Sot,
Whose Vanity still pleads his Cause,
Who never doubts, or makes a Pause;
But firmly thinks that best, he has,
And smiles at ev'ry Thing, he says.
So happy, as the empty Sot,
Whose Vanity still pleads his Cause,
Who never doubts, or makes a Pause;
But firmly thinks that best, he has,
And smiles at ev'ry Thing, he says.
If Hamor finds, his Voice is good,
His wretched Daubs well understood;
If Bays will ne'er suspect his Wit,
Spite of the Hisses from the Pit,
Must it not fairly be confest,
Whate'er we think, that these are blest?
His wretched Daubs well understood;
If Bays will ne'er suspect his Wit,
Spite of the Hisses from the Pit,
Must it not fairly be confest,
Whate'er we think, that these are blest?
Thrice happy Fools! whose bare Pretence
Supplies the Want of Excellence:
And who, tho' Nature gave ye none,
Can stamp Perfections of your own,
Which, like base Coin in some poor State,
Passes at home. O equal Fate!
Philosophers deduce, from hence,
The Mildness of your Providence;
For shou'd you let these Coxcombs see
Their naked, true Deformity,
They'd break the Mirrour, like the Ape,
Who Started at his filthy Shape.
Supplies the Want of Excellence:
151
Can stamp Perfections of your own,
Which, like base Coin in some poor State,
Passes at home. O equal Fate!
Philosophers deduce, from hence,
The Mildness of your Providence;
For shou'd you let these Coxcombs see
Their naked, true Deformity,
They'd break the Mirrour, like the Ape,
Who Started at his filthy Shape.
152
To a Friend,
who turn'd Roman Catholic upon Marriage.
Strange Force of Beauty to controulThe Mind, and catch the sinking Soul!
Fond Proselyte! you plainly prove
No Jesuit can preach like Love,
Nor all the Doctors of Sorbonne
E'er do, what Laura's Smiles have done.
153
Phillis waking.
I
Who wakes me from a Dream of Love?Whose gentle Whispers do I hear?
Whence comes the balmy Kiss I prove?
Who sighs?—my Strephon sure is near!
II
What panting Bosom presses mine?Who kills me with Delights unknown?
'Tis Strephon, or some Pow'r Divine!
Strephon! it cou'd be thee alone!
154
ÆNIGMA.
Soft Dream of Virgins! happy Matron's Pride!
You Peace restore, you Empires can divide,
More powerful than Friendship's sacred Tye,
Riches, Ambition, or Philosophy!
You Peace restore, you Empires can divide,
More powerful than Friendship's sacred Tye,
Riches, Ambition, or Philosophy!
Tho' blind, yet bold; tho' dumb, you teach to speak,
In Action strong, and thro' your Triumphs weak;
Eager, as hasty Torrents, when controul'd;
When unresisted, whimsically cold.
In Action strong, and thro' your Triumphs weak;
Eager, as hasty Torrents, when controul'd;
When unresisted, whimsically cold.
That you are just, your very Foes agree,
Partial to neither Sex, and no Degree;
But visit both the Wealthy, and the Poor,
And knock, like equal Death, at ev'ry Door.
Nor do you swell, vain glorious, with Success;
But, after Conquest still retir'd, and less,
The Hero, and the Sage at once confess.
Partial to neither Sex, and no Degree;
But visit both the Wealthy, and the Poor,
And knock, like equal Death, at ev'ry Door.
Nor do you swell, vain glorious, with Success;
But, after Conquest still retir'd, and less,
The Hero, and the Sage at once confess.
155
ÆNIGMA.
Vile Instrument! but useful still;A Damp to Joy, a Guard from Ill;
Scorn'd by the Bold; by Sages priz'd;
But, when most friendly, most despis'd.
As Monarchs, in Intrigues of State,
Are forc'd to trust the Knaves they hate,
And, when the dirty Work is o'er,
Regard the sordid Tools no more;
E'en so, when thou hast serv'd our Turn,
We cast thee forth, or let thee burn.
156
To S. D---
Had I the Eagle's piercing Sight;The rapid Dove's unwearied Flight:
Cou'd I my Love to love excite;
Like her receive, and give Delight:
Cou'd I be secret as the Night;
Convince all Parties of the Right;
For ever quell my Foes in Fight;
Dare, all I cou'd; say, all I might;
Like you, renowned Poet, write;
I then shou'd be a happy Wight!
157
To two young Ladies,
who retir'd to live together.
What strange Device is this ye've made,The Bonds of Hymen to evade,
And drive alone a sep'rate Trade?
Mourn then, ye Beaux, mourn every Swain!
The Arts of Love ye Learn in vain:
The Fair are to the Fair grown true,
And Beauty does it self subdue!
158
To Daphne.
Daphne , you'd fain be cross and rude,And Pass in earnest for a Prude;
Still calling on the Pow'rs above,
To hinder you, from what you love.
Fond Self-Tormentor, 'tis in vain!
You was not born for Virtue's Chain!
Your heaving Breast too well reveals
The Struggle which poor Honour feels.
So ill you act th' affected Part,
With so much Truth, so little Art,
That 'tis meer Folly, to delay
What you must grant another Day.
159
L'Allegro.
Hail, Comus, God of Feasts! severe
Minerva shall not enter here.
Who wou'd be sage, since Fools are blest,
For ever smiling, and caress'd?
Minerva shall not enter here.
Who wou'd be sage, since Fools are blest,
For ever smiling, and caress'd?
Hence, Doubt! curs'd Reason's worst Disease!
Ridiculous Desire to Please!
Pale Diffidence, and modest Shame,
Be gone! we'll not be Slaves to Fame
For an uncertain, empty Name!
Ridiculous Desire to Please!
Pale Diffidence, and modest Shame,
Be gone! we'll not be Slaves to Fame
For an uncertain, empty Name!
Philosophers! who Learning prize,
And hold, 'tis happy, to be wise,
Why in vain Arts wou'd ye excel
Since Ignorance will do as well?
Why all this Labour to succeed,
These needless Pains, since 'tis agreed,
That thoughtless Hamor's empty Brain
Affords him, what ye'll scarce obtain
From all these Books, on which ye pore?
Believe me, never Trust them more,
And give your fond Inquiries o'er.
Far better 'tis like him to pass
Your cheerful Mornings at the Glass,
And doat upon an ugly Face.
Throw by these Volumes! spread the Board
With all the Elements afford!
Bid Cloë, blooming Nymph, advance,
To lead, with Smiles, the sprightly Dance,
And lot the useful Follys reign,
Ye strive so madly to restrain!
And hold, 'tis happy, to be wise,
Why in vain Arts wou'd ye excel
Since Ignorance will do as well?
Why all this Labour to succeed,
These needless Pains, since 'tis agreed,
160
Affords him, what ye'll scarce obtain
From all these Books, on which ye pore?
Believe me, never Trust them more,
And give your fond Inquiries o'er.
Far better 'tis like him to pass
Your cheerful Mornings at the Glass,
And doat upon an ugly Face.
Throw by these Volumes! spread the Board
With all the Elements afford!
Bid Cloë, blooming Nymph, advance,
To lead, with Smiles, the sprightly Dance,
And lot the useful Follys reign,
Ye strive so madly to restrain!
They cheat Themselves, who wou'd be Grave;
Seneca was a wealthy Knave,
His Morals a proud Stoick's Tale:
Self-Love, and Pride can never fail.
Who wou'd his Vanities redress,
But steals from his own Happiness,
Seneca was a wealthy Knave,
His Morals a proud Stoick's Tale:
Self-Love, and Pride can never fail.
Who wou'd his Vanities redress,
But steals from his own Happiness,
161
If to true Wisdom ye'd aspire,
Implicitely your Selves admire!
This, Friends, is to be wise, and blest!
Meer Imposition all the rest.
Implicitely your Selves admire!
This, Friends, is to be wise, and blest!
Meer Imposition all the rest.
Then welcome, Comus! bring along
Your Torch, and serenading Song;
And shou'd the Fair refuse to rise,
We'll force our Way, and seize the Prize.
Your Torch, and serenading Song;
And shou'd the Fair refuse to rise,
We'll force our Way, and seize the Prize.
| The Works of Hildebrand Jacob | |