The Works of Soame Jenyns ... In Four Volumes. Including Several Pieces Never Before Published. To Which are Prefixed, Short Sketches of the History of the Author's Family, and also of his Life; By Charles Nalson Cole |
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THE FIRST EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE, IMITATED. |
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 | The Works of Soame Jenyns |  |
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THE FIRST EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE, IMITATED.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE PHILIP, LORD HARDWICKE, Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1748.
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Whilst you, my lord, such various toils sustain,
Preside o'er Britain's Peers, her laws explain,
With ev'ry virtue ev'ry heart engage,
And live the bright example of the age,
With tedious verse to trespass on your time,
Is sure impertinence, if not a crime.
Preside o'er Britain's Peers, her laws explain,
With ev'ry virtue ev'ry heart engage,
And live the bright example of the age,
With tedious verse to trespass on your time,
Is sure impertinence, if not a crime.
All the fam'd heroes, statesmen, admirals,
Who after death within the sacred walls
Of Westminster with kings have been receiv'd,
Met with but sorry treatment, while they liv'd;
And tho' they labour'd in their country's cause,
With arms defended her, and form'd with laws,
Yet ever mourn'd they till'd a barren soil,
And left the world ungrateful to their toil.
Ev'n He, who long the House of Com**ns led,
That Hydra dire, with many a gaping head,
Found by experience, to his latest breath,
Envy could only be subdu'd by death.
Great men whilst living must expect disgraces,
Dead they're ador'd—when none desire their places.
Who after death within the sacred walls
Of Westminster with kings have been receiv'd,
Met with but sorry treatment, while they liv'd;
And tho' they labour'd in their country's cause,
With arms defended her, and form'd with laws,
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And left the world ungrateful to their toil.
Ev'n He, who long the House of Com**ns led,
That Hydra dire, with many a gaping head,
Found by experience, to his latest breath,
Envy could only be subdu'd by death.
Great men whilst living must expect disgraces,
Dead they're ador'd—when none desire their places.
This common fate, my lord, attends not you,
Above all equal, and all envy too;
With such unrivall'd eminence you shine,
That in this truth alone all parties join,
The seat of justice in no former reign
Was e'er so greatly fill'd, nor ever can again.
Above all equal, and all envy too;
With such unrivall'd eminence you shine,
That in this truth alone all parties join,
The seat of justice in no former reign
Was e'er so greatly fill'd, nor ever can again.
But tho' the people are so just to you,
To none besides will they allow their due,
No minister approve, who is not dead,
Nor till h'has lost it, own he had a head;
Yet such respect they bear to ancient things,
They've some for former ministers and kings;
And, with a kind of superstitious awe,
Deem Magna Charta still a sacred law.
To none besides will they allow their due,
No minister approve, who is not dead,
Nor till h'has lost it, own he had a head;
Yet such respect they bear to ancient things,
They've some for former ministers and kings;
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Deem Magna Charta still a sacred law.
But, if because the government was best
Of old in France, when freedom she possest,
In the same scale resolv'd to weigh our own,
England's we judge was so, who then had none;
Into most strange absurdities we fall,
Unworthy to be reason'd with at all.
Brought to perfection in these days we see
All arts, and their great parent Liberty;
With skill profound we sing, eat, dress, and dance,
And in each goût polite, excel ev'n France.
Of old in France, when freedom she possest,
In the same scale resolv'd to weigh our own,
England's we judge was so, who then had none;
Into most strange absurdities we fall,
Unworthy to be reason'd with at all.
Brought to perfection in these days we see
All arts, and their great parent Liberty;
With skill profound we sing, eat, dress, and dance,
And in each goût polite, excel ev'n France.
If age of ministers is then the test,
And, as of wines, the oldest are the best,
Let's try and fix some æra, if we can,
When good ones were extinct, and bad began:
Are they all wicked since Eliza's days?
Did none in Charles', or James's merit praise?
Or are they knaves but since the Revolution?
If none of these are facts then all's confusion;
And by the self-same rule one cannot fail,
To pluck each hair out singly from the tail.
Wise Cecil, lov'd by people and by prince,
As often broke his word as any since:
Of Arthur's days we almost nothing know,
Yet sing their praise, because they're long ago.
And, as of wines, the oldest are the best,
Let's try and fix some æra, if we can,
When good ones were extinct, and bad began:
Are they all wicked since Eliza's days?
Did none in Charles', or James's merit praise?
Or are they knaves but since the Revolution?
If none of these are facts then all's confusion;
And by the self-same rule one cannot fail,
To pluck each hair out singly from the tail.
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As often broke his word as any since:
Of Arthur's days we almost nothing know,
Yet sing their praise, because they're long ago.
Oft as 'tis doubted in their several ways
Which of past orators best merit praise,
We find it to decide extremely hard,
If Harley's head deserv'd the most regard,
Or Windham's tongue, or Jekyl's patriot heart,
Old Shippen's gravity, or Walpole's art.
These were ador'd by all with whom they voted,
And in the fullest houses still are quoted;
These have been fam'd from Anna's days till ours,
When Pelham has improv'd, with unknown pow'rs,
The art of ministerial eloquence,
By adding honest truth to nervous sense.
Oft are the vulgar wrong, yet sometimes right;
The late rebellion in the truest light
By chance they saw; but were not once so wise,
Unknown, unheard, in damning the excise:
If former reigns they fancy had no fault,
I think their judgment is not worth a groat:
But if they frankly own their politics,
Like ours, might have some blunders, and some tricks,
With such impartial sentiments I join,
And their opinions tally just with mine.
Which of past orators best merit praise,
We find it to decide extremely hard,
If Harley's head deserv'd the most regard,
Or Windham's tongue, or Jekyl's patriot heart,
Old Shippen's gravity, or Walpole's art.
These were ador'd by all with whom they voted,
And in the fullest houses still are quoted;
These have been fam'd from Anna's days till ours,
When Pelham has improv'd, with unknown pow'rs,
The art of ministerial eloquence,
By adding honest truth to nervous sense.
Oft are the vulgar wrong, yet sometimes right;
The late rebellion in the truest light
By chance they saw; but were not once so wise,
Unknown, unheard, in damning the excise:
If former reigns they fancy had no fault,
I think their judgment is not worth a groat:
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Like ours, might have some blunders, and some tricks,
With such impartial sentiments I join,
And their opinions tally just with mine.
I would by no means church or king destroy,
And yet the doctrines, taught me when a boy
By Crab the curate, now seem wond'rous odd,
That either came immediately from God:
In all the writings of those high-flown ages
You meet with now and then some scatter'd pages
Wrote with some spirit and with sense enough;
These sell the book, the rest is wretched stuff:
I'm quite provok'd, when principles, tho' true,
Must stand impeach'd by fools, because they're new.
Should I but question, only for a joke,
If all was flow'rs, when pompous Hanmer spoke,
If things went right, when St. John trod the stage,
How the old Tories all would storm and rage!
They shun conviction, or because a truth
Confess'd in age implies they err'd in youth;
Or that they scorn to learn of junior wits:
What!—to be taught by Lytteltons and Pitts.
And yet the doctrines, taught me when a boy
By Crab the curate, now seem wond'rous odd,
That either came immediately from God:
In all the writings of those high-flown ages
You meet with now and then some scatter'd pages
Wrote with some spirit and with sense enough;
These sell the book, the rest is wretched stuff:
I'm quite provok'd, when principles, tho' true,
Must stand impeach'd by fools, because they're new.
Should I but question, only for a joke,
If all was flow'rs, when pompous Hanmer spoke,
If things went right, when St. John trod the stage,
How the old Tories all would storm and rage!
They shun conviction, or because a truth
Confess'd in age implies they err'd in youth;
Or that they scorn to learn of junior wits:
What!—to be taught by Lytteltons and Pitts.
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When angry patriots, or in prose or rhymes,
Extol the virtuous deeds of former times,
They only mean the present to disgrace,
And look with envious hate on all in place:
But had the patriots of those ancient days
Play'd the same game for profit, or for praise,
The trade, tho' now so flourishing and new,
Had long been ruin'd and the nation too.
Extol the virtuous deeds of former times,
They only mean the present to disgrace,
And look with envious hate on all in place:
But had the patriots of those ancient days
Play'd the same game for profit, or for praise,
The trade, tho' now so flourishing and new,
Had long been ruin'd and the nation too.
England, when once of peace and wealth possest,
Began to think frugality a jest,
So grew polite; hence all her well-bred heirs
Gamesters and jockies turn'd, and cricket-play'rs;
Pictures and busts in ev'ry house were seen;
What should have paid the butcher, bought Poussin;
Now operas, now plays were all the fashion,
Then whist became the bus'ness of the nation,
That, like a froward child, in wanton play
Now cries for toys, then tosses them away;
Each hour we chang'd our pleasures, dress, and diet;
These were the blest effects of being quiet.
Began to think frugality a jest,
So grew polite; hence all her well-bred heirs
Gamesters and jockies turn'd, and cricket-play'rs;
Pictures and busts in ev'ry house were seen;
What should have paid the butcher, bought Poussin;
Now operas, now plays were all the fashion,
Then whist became the bus'ness of the nation,
That, like a froward child, in wanton play
Now cries for toys, then tosses them away;
Each hour we chang'd our pleasures, dress, and diet;
These were the blest effects of being quiet.
Not thus behav'd the true old English 'squire,
He smok'd his pipe each morn by his own fire,
There justice to dispense was ever willing,
And for his warrants pick'd up many a shilling:
To teach his younger neighbours always glad,
Where for their corn best markets might be had,
And from experienc'd age as glad to learn,
How to defraud unseen the parson's barn.
He smok'd his pipe each morn by his own fire,
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And for his warrants pick'd up many a shilling:
To teach his younger neighbours always glad,
Where for their corn best markets might be had,
And from experienc'd age as glad to learn,
How to defraud unseen the parson's barn.
But now the world's quite alter'd, all are bent
To leave their seats, and fly to parliament:
Old men and boys in this alone agree,
And, vainly courting popularity,
Ply their obstrep'rous voters all night long
With bumpers, toasts, and now and then a song:
Ev'n I, who swear these follies I despise,
Than statesmen, or their porters, tell more lies;
And, for the fashion-sake, in spite of nature,
Commence sometimes a most important creature,
Busy as Car---w rave for ink and quills,
And stuff my head and pockets full of bills.
To leave their seats, and fly to parliament:
Old men and boys in this alone agree,
And, vainly courting popularity,
Ply their obstrep'rous voters all night long
With bumpers, toasts, and now and then a song:
Ev'n I, who swear these follies I despise,
Than statesmen, or their porters, tell more lies;
And, for the fashion-sake, in spite of nature,
Commence sometimes a most important creature,
Busy as Car---w rave for ink and quills,
And stuff my head and pockets full of bills.
Few land-men go to sea unless they're prest,
And quacks in all professions are a jest;
None dare to kill, except most learn'd physicians:
Learn'd, or unlearn'd, we all are politicians.
There's not a soul but thinks, could he be sent,
H'has parts enough to shine in parliament.
And quacks in all professions are a jest;
None dare to kill, except most learn'd physicians:
Learn'd, or unlearn'd, we all are politicians.
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H'has parts enough to shine in parliament.
Tho' many ills this modern taste produces,
Yet still, my lord, 'tis not without its uses;
These minor politicians are a kind
Not much to selfish avarice inclin'd;
Do but allow them with applause to speak,
They little care, tho' all their tenants break;
They form intrigues with no man's wife, or daughter,
And live on pudding, chicken-broth, and water;
Fierce Jacobites, as far as blust'ring words,
But loth in any cause to draw their swords.
Yet still, my lord, 'tis not without its uses;
These minor politicians are a kind
Not much to selfish avarice inclin'd;
Do but allow them with applause to speak,
They little care, tho' all their tenants break;
They form intrigues with no man's wife, or daughter,
And live on pudding, chicken-broth, and water;
Fierce Jacobites, as far as blust'ring words,
But loth in any cause to draw their swords.
Were smaller matters worthy of attention,
A thousand other uses I could mention;
For instance, in each monthly magazine
Their essays and orations still are seen,
And magazines teach boys and girls to read,
And are the canons of each tradesman's creed;
Apprentices they serve to entertain,
Instead of smutty tales, and plays profane;
Instruct them how their passions to command,
And to hate none—but those who rule the land:
Facts they record, births, marriages, and deaths,
Sometimes receipts for claps, and stinking breaths.
A thousand other uses I could mention;
For instance, in each monthly magazine
Their essays and orations still are seen,
And magazines teach boys and girls to read,
And are the canons of each tradesman's creed;
Apprentices they serve to entertain,
Instead of smutty tales, and plays profane;
Instruct them how their passions to command,
And to hate none—but those who rule the land:
99
Sometimes receipts for claps, and stinking breaths.
When with her brothers miss comes up to town,
How for each play can she afford a crown?
Where find diversions gratis, and yet pretty,
Unless she goes to church, or a committee?
And sure committees better entertain,
Than hearing a dull parson pray for rain,
Or whining beg deliverance from battle,
Dangers, and sins, and sickness amongst cattle;
At church she hears with unattentive ear
The pray'rs for peace, and for a plenteous year,
But here quite charm'd with so much wit and sense,
She falls a victim soon to eloquence;
Well may she fall, since eloquence has power
To govern both the upper house and lower.
How for each play can she afford a crown?
Where find diversions gratis, and yet pretty,
Unless she goes to church, or a committee?
And sure committees better entertain,
Than hearing a dull parson pray for rain,
Or whining beg deliverance from battle,
Dangers, and sins, and sickness amongst cattle;
At church she hears with unattentive ear
The pray'rs for peace, and for a plenteous year,
But here quite charm'd with so much wit and sense,
She falls a victim soon to eloquence;
Well may she fall, since eloquence has power
To govern both the upper house and lower.
Our ancient gentry, frugal, bold, and rough,
Were farmers, yet liv'd happily enough;
They, when in barns their corn was safely laid,
For harvest-homes great entertainments made,
The well-rubb'd tables crack'd with beef and pork,
And all the supper shar'd who shar'd the work;
This gave freeholders first a taste for eating,
And was the source of all election-treating;
A while their jests, tho' merry, yet were wise,
And they took none but decent liberties.
Brandy and punch at length such riots bred,
No sober family could sleep in bed:
All were alarm'd, ev'n those who had no hurt
Call'd in the law, to stop such dang'rous sport.
Rich citizens at length new arts brought down
With ready cash, to win each country town;
This less disorders caus'd than downright drink,
Freemen grew civil, and began to think;
But still all canvassing produc'd confusion,
The relics of its rustic institution.
Were farmers, yet liv'd happily enough;
They, when in barns their corn was safely laid,
For harvest-homes great entertainments made,
The well-rubb'd tables crack'd with beef and pork,
And all the supper shar'd who shar'd the work;
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And was the source of all election-treating;
A while their jests, tho' merry, yet were wise,
And they took none but decent liberties.
Brandy and punch at length such riots bred,
No sober family could sleep in bed:
All were alarm'd, ev'n those who had no hurt
Call'd in the law, to stop such dang'rous sport.
Rich citizens at length new arts brought down
With ready cash, to win each country town;
This less disorders caus'd than downright drink,
Freemen grew civil, and began to think;
But still all canvassing produc'd confusion,
The relics of its rustic institution.
'Tis but of late, since thirty years of peace
To useful sciences have giv'n increase,
That we've inquir'd how Rome's lost sons of old
Barter'd their liberties for feasts and gold;
What treats proud Sylla, Cæsar, Crassus gave,
And try'd, like them, to buy each hungry knave;
Nor try'd in vain; too fortunately bold
Many have purchas'd votes, and many sold;
No laws can now amend this venal land,
That dreads the touch of a reforming hand.
To useful sciences have giv'n increase,
That we've inquir'd how Rome's lost sons of old
Barter'd their liberties for feasts and gold;
What treats proud Sylla, Cæsar, Crassus gave,
And try'd, like them, to buy each hungry knave;
Nor try'd in vain; too fortunately bold
Many have purchas'd votes, and many sold;
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That dreads the touch of a reforming hand.
Some think an int'rest may be form'd with ease,
Because the vulgar we must chiefly please;
But for that reason 'tis the harder task,
For such will neither pardon grant, nor ask.
See how Sir W---, master of this art,
By different methods wins each C---n heart.
He tells raw youths, that whoring is no harm,
And teaches their attentive sires to farm;
To his own table lovingly invites
Insidious pimps, and hungry parasites:
Sometimes in slippers, and a morning gown,
He pays his early visits round a town,
At ev'ry house relates his stories over,
Of place-bills, taxes, turnips, and Hanover;
If tales will money save, and business do,
It matters little, are they false or true.
Because the vulgar we must chiefly please;
But for that reason 'tis the harder task,
For such will neither pardon grant, nor ask.
See how Sir W---, master of this art,
By different methods wins each C---n heart.
He tells raw youths, that whoring is no harm,
And teaches their attentive sires to farm;
To his own table lovingly invites
Insidious pimps, and hungry parasites:
Sometimes in slippers, and a morning gown,
He pays his early visits round a town,
At ev'ry house relates his stories over,
Of place-bills, taxes, turnips, and Hanover;
If tales will money save, and business do,
It matters little, are they false or true.
Whoe'er prefers a clam'rous mob's applause
To his own conscience, or his country's cause,
Is soon elated, and as soon cast down
By ev'ry drunken cobler's smile, or frown;
So small a matter can depress or raise
A mind that's meanly covetous of praise:
But if my quiet must dependent be
On the vain breath of popularity,
A wind each hour to diff'rent quarters veering,
Adieu, say I, to all electioneering.
To his own conscience, or his country's cause,
Is soon elated, and as soon cast down
By ev'ry drunken cobler's smile, or frown;
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A mind that's meanly covetous of praise:
But if my quiet must dependent be
On the vain breath of popularity,
A wind each hour to diff'rent quarters veering,
Adieu, say I, to all electioneering.
The boldest orator it disconcerts,
To find the many, tho' of meanest parts,
Illit'rate, squabbling, discontented prigs,
Fitter t'attend a boxing-match at Figg's,
To all good sense and reason shut their ears,
Yet take delight in S*d*m's bulls and bears.
To find the many, tho' of meanest parts,
Illit'rate, squabbling, discontented prigs,
Fitter t'attend a boxing-match at Figg's,
To all good sense and reason shut their ears,
Yet take delight in S*d*m's bulls and bears.
Young knights now sent from many a distant shire
Are better pleas'd with what they see than hear;
Their joy's to view his majesty approach,
Drawn by eight milk-white steeds in gilded coach,
The pageant show and bustle to behold,
The guards both horse and foot lac'd o'er with gold,
The rich insignia from the Tower brought down,
The iv'ry scepter and the radiant crown.
The mob huzza, the thund'ring cannons roar,
And business is delay'd at least an hour;
The Speaker calls indeed to mind what passes,
But might as well read orders to deaf asses.
Are better pleas'd with what they see than hear;
Their joy's to view his majesty approach,
Drawn by eight milk-white steeds in gilded coach,
The pageant show and bustle to behold,
The guards both horse and foot lac'd o'er with gold,
The rich insignia from the Tower brought down,
The iv'ry scepter and the radiant crown.
The mob huzza, the thund'ring cannons roar,
And business is delay'd at least an hour;
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But might as well read orders to deaf asses.
But now see honest V--- rise to joke!
The house all laugh; What says he? has he spoke?
No not a word. Then whence this sudden mirth?
His phyz foretels some jest's approaching birth.
The house all laugh; What says he? has he spoke?
No not a word. Then whence this sudden mirth?
His phyz foretels some jest's approaching birth.
But lest I seem these orators to wrong,
Envious because I share no gift of tongue,
Is there a Man whose eloquence has pow'r
To clear the fullest house in half an hour,
Who now appears to rave and now to weep,
Who sometimes makes us swear, and sometimes sleep,
Now fills our heads with false alarms from France,
Then conjurer like to India bids us dance?
All eulogies on him we own are true,
For surely he does all that man can do.
Envious because I share no gift of tongue,
Is there a Man whose eloquence has pow'r
To clear the fullest house in half an hour,
Who now appears to rave and now to weep,
Who sometimes makes us swear, and sometimes sleep,
Now fills our heads with false alarms from France,
Then conjurer like to India bids us dance?
All eulogies on him we own are true,
For surely he does all that man can do.
But whilst, my lord, these makers of our laws,
Thus speak themselves into the world's applause,
Let bards, for such attempts too modest, share
What more they prize, your patronage and care,
If you would spur them up the muse's hill,
Or ask their aid your library to fill.
We poets are, in ev'ry age and nation,
A most absurd, wrong-headed generation;
This in a thousand instances is shown,
(Myself as guilty as the rest I own)
As when on you our nonsense we impose,
Tir'd with the nonsense you have heard in prose;
When we're offended, if some honest friend
Presumes one unharmonious verse to mend;
When undesir'd our labours we repeat,
Grieve they're no more regarded by the Great,
And fancy, should You once but see our faces,
You'd bid us write, and pay us all with places.
Thus speak themselves into the world's applause,
Let bards, for such attempts too modest, share
What more they prize, your patronage and care,
If you would spur them up the muse's hill,
Or ask their aid your library to fill.
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A most absurd, wrong-headed generation;
This in a thousand instances is shown,
(Myself as guilty as the rest I own)
As when on you our nonsense we impose,
Tir'd with the nonsense you have heard in prose;
When we're offended, if some honest friend
Presumes one unharmonious verse to mend;
When undesir'd our labours we repeat,
Grieve they're no more regarded by the Great,
And fancy, should You once but see our faces,
You'd bid us write, and pay us all with places.
'Tis your's, my lord, to form the soul to verse,
Who have such num'rous virtues to rehearse;
Great Alexander once, in ancient days,
Paid Choerilus for daubing him with praise;
And yet the same fam'd hero made a law,
None but Apelles should his picture draw;
None but Lysippus cast his royal head
In brass: it had been treason if in lead;
A prince he was in valour ne'er surpass'd,
And had in painting too perhaps some taste;
But as to verse, undoubted is the matter,
He must be dull, as a Dutch commentator.
Who have such num'rous virtues to rehearse;
Great Alexander once, in ancient days,
Paid Choerilus for daubing him with praise;
And yet the same fam'd hero made a law,
None but Apelles should his picture draw;
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In brass: it had been treason if in lead;
A prince he was in valour ne'er surpass'd,
And had in painting too perhaps some taste;
But as to verse, undoubted is the matter,
He must be dull, as a Dutch commentator.
But you, my lord, a fav'rite of the muse,
Would chuse good poets, were there good to chuse;
You know they paint the great man's soul as like,
As can his features Kneller, or Vandyke.
Had I such pow'r, I never would compose
Such creeping lines as these, nor verse, nor prose;
But rather try to celebrate your praise,
And with your just encomiums swell my lays:
Had I a genius equal to my will,
Gladly would I exert my utmost skill
To consecrate to fame Britannia's land
Receiving law from your impartial hand;
By your wise counsels once more pow'rful made,
Her fleets rever'd, and flourishing her trade;
Exhausted nations trembling at her sword,
And Peace long wish'd-for to the world restor'd.
Would chuse good poets, were there good to chuse;
You know they paint the great man's soul as like,
As can his features Kneller, or Vandyke.
Had I such pow'r, I never would compose
Such creeping lines as these, nor verse, nor prose;
But rather try to celebrate your praise,
And with your just encomiums swell my lays:
Had I a genius equal to my will,
Gladly would I exert my utmost skill
To consecrate to fame Britannia's land
Receiving law from your impartial hand;
By your wise counsels once more pow'rful made,
Her fleets rever'd, and flourishing her trade;
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And Peace long wish'd-for to the world restor'd.
But your true greatness suffers no such praise,
My verse would sink the theme it meant to raise;
Unequal to the task would surely meet
Deserv'd contempt, and each presumptuous sheet
Could serve for nothing, scrawl'd with lines so simple,
Unless to wrap up sugar-loaves for Wimple.
My verse would sink the theme it meant to raise;
Unequal to the task would surely meet
Deserv'd contempt, and each presumptuous sheet
Could serve for nothing, scrawl'd with lines so simple,
Unless to wrap up sugar-loaves for Wimple.
| The Works of Soame Jenyns | |