A collection of poems on various subjects including the theatre, a didactic essay; in the course of which are pointed out, the rocks and shoals to which deluded adventurers are inevitably exposed. Ornamented with cuts and illustrated with notes, original letters and curious incidental anecdotes [by Samuel Whyte] |
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| III. | EPISTLE III. TO JOSEPH COOPER WALKER, ESQ. |
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 | A collection of poems on various subjects |  |
156
EPISTLE III. TO JOSEPH COOPER WALKER, ESQ.
MEMBER OF THE ROYAL IRISH ACADEMY, FELLOW OF THE LITERARY AND ANTIQUARIAN SOCIETY OF PERTH, AND HONORARY MEMBER OF THE ETRUSCAN ACADEMY OF CORTONA, ON READING HIS MEMOIRS OF THE IRISH BARDS.
FRIDAY, MARCH XXVIITH, MDCCLXXXIX.
With keen research, and penetrating eyes,
While you pervade the shades where science lies,
And, vers'd in ancient and historic lore,
The manly records of our sires explore;
Their customs, manners, habits, language trace,
To truth add lustre, and to wisdom grace;
The hidden treasures of times past unfold,
And even their very dross transmute to gold:
While thus, when crowds, at time and health's expence,
Provoke derision, you exalt your sense;
The veil of dark antiquity remove,
Our minds irradiate, and our taste improve,
And, fill'd with patriot zeal, the deeds rehearse
Of chieftains mighty and renown'd in verse;
I, to a bard's great name who can't aspire,
Smit with congenial feelings, touch the lyre;
Call'd forth by thee my voice impartial raise,
Less to record than testify thy praise.
Thy own rich page, from imperfection free,
Embalms thy fame and needs no aid from me.
While you pervade the shades where science lies,
And, vers'd in ancient and historic lore,
The manly records of our sires explore;
Their customs, manners, habits, language trace,
To truth add lustre, and to wisdom grace;
The hidden treasures of times past unfold,
And even their very dross transmute to gold:
While thus, when crowds, at time and health's expence,
Provoke derision, you exalt your sense;
The veil of dark antiquity remove,
Our minds irradiate, and our taste improve,
And, fill'd with patriot zeal, the deeds rehearse
Of chieftains mighty and renown'd in verse;
157
Smit with congenial feelings, touch the lyre;
Call'd forth by thee my voice impartial raise,
Less to record than testify thy praise.
Thy own rich page, from imperfection free,
Embalms thy fame and needs no aid from me.
O! had I leisure for the just design,
And talents ample as the theme were mine,
Not thy bright name alone, the charter'd band,
That bless with learning's beams their native land,
And gave her claim among the nations birth,
The last in effort though not least in worth,
Should all, if minstrelsy distinction give,
While truth with merit dwells applauded live.
But worn with toil and circumscrib'd in time,
Ill suits my lot the laurel'd haunts of rhyme;
Though fancy sometimes fluttering on the wing,
Tempts my rash hand the soothing harp to string,
In ceaseless tumults each vibration drown'd,
Emits, if any, but a feeble found:
Some happier genius hence, for song admir'd,
May catch the hint, and, as of old inspir'd,
To distant ages make the worthies known,
And, with his country's glory, fix his own.
Here all my hopes and my ambition end;
Suffice it me to be approv'd thy friend.
And talents ample as the theme were mine,
Not thy bright name alone, the charter'd band,
That bless with learning's beams their native land,
And gave her claim among the nations birth,
The last in effort though not least in worth,
Should all, if minstrelsy distinction give,
While truth with merit dwells applauded live.
But worn with toil and circumscrib'd in time,
Ill suits my lot the laurel'd haunts of rhyme;
Though fancy sometimes fluttering on the wing,
Tempts my rash hand the soothing harp to string,
In ceaseless tumults each vibration drown'd,
Emits, if any, but a feeble found:
Some happier genius hence, for song admir'd,
May catch the hint, and, as of old inspir'd,
To distant ages make the worthies known,
And, with his country's glory, fix his own.
Here all my hopes and my ambition end;
Suffice it me to be approv'd thy friend.
| A collection of poems on various subjects | |