Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

In friendly part a well-meant Gift receive,
The best, tho' small, that I have pow'r to give:
Boldly without reluctance lend an ear,
Nor flatt'ring Verse, nor Dedication fear,
Which only tells us what we guess'd before,
How rich the Patron, and the Bard how poor.
If wisely covetous of precious Time,
You dread the long Impertinence of Rhime,
These Lines with patience may be over-past,
My first, and what is more, perhaps my last.
From all such Danger shortly you'll be free,
If not on this side, yet beyond the Sea.

Religion first be made your utmost care,
Nor drop your native Faith in foreign Air;
Nor, like the flutt'ring Triflers of the Town,
Go forth with little, and come back with none.
Mother of Errors Rome we well may call,
Parent of too much Faith,—and none at all:
Where lying Miracles, and Monkish Dreams,
Fright thoughtless Fools to contrary Extremes:
Who their twelve Articles of Faith give o'er,
Because the Trental Creed has twenty-four:
And count the Flames of Hell a fabled Story,
Because they see the Frauds of Purgatory.

In vain you boast from Popery You are free,
If ting'd with Unbelief in Italy:
As justly desolate Marseilles may brag,
That she has no Disease, except the Plague.

Foe to their Church, O copy not their Vice,
Nor envy their Italian Liberties;
Nor aim so much in Breeding to excel,
To think it worth the Price of certain Hell.
The Devil's Lab'rers must receive their Hire;
There's no Insurance from Eternal Fire.
In Vice we Tramontanes must quit the Field,
And Wy---rn sure to Elephantis yield.
With far-fetch'd Lust our modish Closets shine,
But Britain ne'er produc'd an Aretine;
Nor vile Intrigues avow'd, as lawful Flame,
Nor e'er by Statutes authoris'd her Shame:
Tho' large Returns the Publick might take in,
From licens'd Practice of imported Sin;
Might British Rakes Dutch Musick-houses use,
And build them Roman or Venetian Stews.

Next, travel not for Nought thro' distant Lands;
Be wise, and just, and diligent as Sands,
Whose penetrating Eye distinctly sees
Religions, Governments, and Polities.
Some only learn the Diff'rence all the while
Betwixt an English and a German Mile:
What Nations Reck'nings at their Inns are least,
If Coaches or Post-Chaises travel best:
That Adria's Isles are pleasing to behold;
That Spain is hot, and Swisserland is cold.

Your Party Politicians will aspire
A little, and indeed but little, higher.
Fir'd with their Country's Love, they range abroad,
To find, by Toils, that Liberty is good.
Dauntless for this the Free-born Briton goes
O'er Danish Ice, and Pyrenean Snows.
So round the Globe on foot great Coryat strays,
To search how long the Roads, and deep the Ways;
To know where Meat was good, and Liquor fine,
How strong the Sign-post, and how gay the Sign.

Nor doat on antique Pieces, nor despise:
Oft view, but seldom purchase Rarities.
Trust not their Medals lately dug from Dust,
With modern Soil, and imitated Rust.
Your Virtuoso travels with Design
To heap up Treasures of uncurrent Coin:
Doats on the Letters round a Græcian Head,
Half raz'd; which, were they plain, he could not read:
Pays Weight for Weight, new Gold for antient Stone;
And for an Otho's Head would give his own.

Curious Abroad, forget not all the while
The matchless Beauties of your native Isle;
In British Straits what mighty Navies ride,
What Wealth flows in with each returning Tide.
Our callow Youth for Paintings visit Rome,
And know not the Cartons they left at Home.
Strange Sights o'er Alps and Appennines they seek,
But stare with Silence if you name the Peak.
The fam'd Venetian Arsenal they explore,
But slight the Arm'ry in the London Tower.

With floods of Speech the Vatican they praise,
But never heard of Bodley in their days.
Asham'd of Home, of Foreign Climes they boast,
And Thames and Humber are in Tyber lost.

When back return'd, let not your whole Discourse
Assert the Priviledge of Travellers:
Nor strange Relations of Adventures give,
Which few delight to hear, and none believe.
Throw not Your Country's Manners quite aside,
Nor taint our honest Air with foreign Pride.
An Englishman, (the Proverb tells you true)
Who turns Italian, turns a Devil too:
And none, unless distracted, would forego
The British Substance for the Gallick Show.
Own that a Man of Worth may justly shine,
Who never Paris view'd, or pass'd the Rhine:
Such was Your Grandsire, Glory of Your Name,
(O might Your Virtue merit equal Fame!)
Friend to Religion fix'd, and true to Laws,
When suff'ring Prelates prop'd the Church's Cause.
Like him accomplish'd, Britain few can boast,
And yet the narrow Seas he never cross'd.

Observe these Rules, 'till others better skill'd
More useful Lessons to your Youth shall yield.
When far from Home, or from a wiser Friend,
These Rules, tho' mean, may some assistance lend.
If aught of Common Sense I understand,
Who ne'er saw Dover Cliffs, or Calais Sand.

Sir John Powell, one of the Judges of the King's-Bench, who acquitted the Seven Bishops.