Poems upon several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Chaucer, as Fame in Deathless Annals sings,
Successively was Laureat to Three Kings:
Apollo did Himself his Priest ordain,
And made Him Flamen of Their Triple Reign;
In Love and Arms He grac'd the British Throne,
Increas'd Their Laurels much, but more His own;

In Honour's Chase They lagg'd behind His Thought;
The Bard wrote bolder than His Heroes fought.

Such were His Praises;—Such His Honours now,
Which, on Himself, Himself could best bestow.
His Glorious Works must far extend His Name;
Immortal Wit demands Immortal Fame:
His faithful Structures of facetious Rhime,
Secure, withstand the fiercest Shocks of Time;
And cruel Saturn has that Mercy shown,
To spare His Children, who devour'd his own.

But tho' the Muses may elude the Rage
And ineffectual Batteries of Age,
The tuneful Choir can no Protection bring,
Or guard the Nest, where they first learn'd to Sing.
What Phœbus, and the Nine in vain pursue,
Is a peculiar Task reserv'd for You:
Wise Heaven's Design is by Your Care fulfill'd;
You in few Days the Sacred Walls rebuild,

And to its former Dignity restore,
What many Ages scarce destroy'd before;
You, and the Muse each other's Wrongs repair;
The Muse is Your's, and You the Muse's Care.

Our Ancient Father of the British Song,
In Dryden late reviv'd, again grows young:
His Tales are there in freshest Language told,
Like Coins new-stamp'd on old Spur-royal Gold.
You, and His Muse Applauses justly claim,
Both gen'rous Benefactors to His Fame;
The pleasing Task on either Part is great,
Dryden improves His Rhimes, and You His Seat.

The Muses, and the Muse-inspiring God,
Shall now revisit Their belov'd Abode;
While Cytherea, and Her nightly Train
Of smiling Graces, bless the flow'ry Plain.

Fair Venus the Mysterious Dance shall lead,
Light-tripping Elves their airy Measures tread,
And leave Fantastick Rounds in ev'ry Fairy Mead.
No Fire shall wander with delusive Light,
No grisly Ghost, no Forms obscene affright,
Or discompose the Revels of the Night:
Pleasure with Mirth, and Laughter here shall stay,
The Night to shorten, and prolong the Day.
Hark! how the Birds from their Poetick Throats,
Sing more divinely, and in sweeter Notes;
Rivals they strive each other to excel,
And ev'ry Thrush is here a Philomel:
Their great Instructor's Lays employ each Tongue,
By Chaucer taught, of Chaucer is their Song.

Old Greece, and Rome religiously are said
To glean the Reliques of their mighty Dead;

With learned Care their Antiquaries sought
The smallest Fragments which their Poets wrote;
Pieces that with diviner Fires were warm'd,
Oracular the Sense, and ev'ry Word was charm'd.
Thus You preserve (so knowing Fate ordains)
This venerable Mansion's great Remains:
Monarchs may Louvres, Princes Blenheims raise;
Their Fame is louder, but more just Your Praise:
The more important Labours better please
Of building Temples, than proud Palaces.

Threat'ning the Skies This lofty Fabrick stands,
And all below the distant Plain commands:
High, without Pride, Majestick, without State,
Strong in Decay, amidst its Ruins, Great.

Thy fruitful Walls with equal Pride produce
The Warrior-Hero, and recording Muse.

Lavish of Fame, we're by Thy Story taught
How Chaucer sung, and Boys His Valour fought.
But (O!)—'twou'd grieve a Loyal Muse to sing
Of Men, and Arms rebellious to their King;
Of curs'd Newburian Fields,—whose guilty Plain
Rose hilly with the Numbers of the Slain:
By an unequal Fate, and Fortune's Crime,
Falkland was snatch'd from hence before his Time;
The Hero perish'd in the Bloom of Youth,
In Letters old, in Loyalty, and Truth:
Pity the Gods his Life refus'd to spare;
But Heav'n impatient seem'd till He was there.
Honour he lov'd; bright Honour that proceeds
From Virtuous Actions, and Heroick Deeds:
His dauntless Heart in Arms conceiv'd no Fear,
Except to be far off, and not to hear
When Honour call'd, and Glorious Danger near.

Knowledge He sought—but not in Courts to rise;
He was ambitious—only to be wise:
Such great Accomplishments the Chief engross't,
To save Him, Empires had been cheaply lost.
Here fell Carnarvan, an Illustrious Name,
In Blood superior, and his Match in Fame:
He fell,—to vulgar Hands resign'd his Breath;
Ingloriously he fell,—but dy'd a Glorious Death.

From hence a tow'ring Palace may be seen,
The promis'd Court of a Bohemian Queen;
The spacious Building, ample Walls, contain
More Land than bounds a Petty Prince's Reign.
The Sun that daily runs th' Ethereal Round,
With weary'd Steps surveys the vast Extent of Ground.
Had Dido been with such Dominions blest,
She had not lost so soon her Trojan Guest;

The faithless Hero had not prov'd unkind,
Nor rudely left the weeping Fair behind.
In this stupendous Pile we find express'd
The large Ideas of a Princely Breast:
But gilded Roofs no Pattern can afford,
Or form an Image of their present Lord;
Well-fashion'd Marbles Life to others give,
But His superior Worth makes Marbles live;
Does the more gen'rous Monuments impart
Of open Hands, and an unbounded Heart.

With secret Pleasure I am now convey'd,
To seek fair Benham's hospitable Shade,
Whose Beauties, like a blushing Virgin, fly
The common View, nor court the publick Eye:
Noble, yet plain, with unaffected Grace,
Resembling well the Masters of the Place.

Here They in Peace enjoy unenvy'd Wealth,
Unbroken Slumbers, and unphysick'd Health.
Their equal Souls by Sympathy are grown
In Wills, Affections, and strict Friendship, one;
And like two Strings that warble the same Note,
By Turns resound an Unison of Thought.

When you shall consecrate the hallow'd Shrine
With Jolly Songs, and Goblets crown'd with Wine,
My Friends shall in the Dithyrambick Chorus joyn;
Whilst Chaucer's Shade shall answer from below,
Mix with the Pomp, and grace the solemn Show.
And if the fam'd Amphions wond'rous Lyre,
Would graciously assist the chearful Quire,
His charming Lays might teach you to repair
The nodding Ruins with a Grecian Air:
Who by his chorded Shells enchanting Sound,
Made Marble Quarries heave, and burst the Ground;

Then from a rude, and indigested Heap,
Into a new, and beauteous Order leap.
In num'rous Figures rang'd, they danc'd along,
To City's form'd by his attractive Song,
The willing Stones into the Wall were wrought,
Harmoniously proportion'd to each Note;
And thus by Verse in Architecture skill'd,
Without an Artist, taught themselves to build.

O could my Muse in Epick Numbers write,
Some famous Tale, like that of Chaucer's Knight,
You, Sir, the noble Palamon should be,
Your beauteous Consort the fair Emely.