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

I sing a Prelate good, unbodied now,
Nor longer Angel of the Church below;
Enthron'd Triumphant!—May the Lines be free
From sordid Hope, and servile Flattery.
Such Views, if known, this happy Saint would move
To shake his radiant Head, and frown Above.
A gen'rous Plainness thro' the Verse be shown,
Truth without Fear, and Roughness like his Own:
Roughness, by none despis'd, by most rever'd;
By Fools avoided, and by Villains fear'd.

While Gastrell's Praises fill the hallow'd Strain,
Far hence Ye False, Ye Vicious, Ye Prophane!
Whoe'er can Virtue out of Place despise,
And sneak inglorious when Ye stoop to Rise;
Whoe'er for Int'rest have Your Honour sold,
And truck'd Your Conscience, or Your Friend for Gold:
Whoe'er with changing Factions, change Your Minds,
And veer obsequious to the shifting Winds;
Or shun to read, or reading scoff his Name,
And where you mean him Scandal, give him Fame.

Ye sacred Founts, whence Truth and Learning spring,
At once accept, and witness what I sing.

100

Mean Poet I, to bid in Numbers rise
Gastrell, the Learn'd, the Pious, and the Wise!
By Cam's and Isis' grateful Sons approv'd;
By Anne promoted, and by Harley lov'd.
Him Isis early bless'd with calm Retreat,
Where Arts ingenious fix'd their happy Seat;
Where Laud of old intrepid rul'd the Gown;
Where Fell presided, and where Aldrich shone:
Studious in Youth, here learn'd He to excell,
And gain'd the Wisdom he employ'd so well.
Whether his nervous Eloquence he show'd,
T' assert creating and presiding God,
Author and End of All; whose Will is Fate,
Almighty to Revenge, as to Create:
Or Christ, his consecrated Pen require,
Coëval Son descending from the Sire!
Whom Ransom for his Foes the Father gave,
Who liv'd to teach us, and who dy'd to save.
From Truth to Truth the solid Reas'ner goes,
Nor Fraud can scape him, nor can Force oppose;
And Earth and Hell may try their Arts in vain,
To break one Link of th' Adamantine Chain.

Hear him, when Learning seems his Voice to need,
For Academick Honours boldly plead;
Mindful of Truth, as mindless of Applause,
With Strength and Candour worthy of his Cause.
Long may those Bulwarks of Religion stand,
True to the Mitred Head, and Scepter'd Hand:
To future Times let Hyde Immortal tell,
How bravely once they stood, how nobly fell.

101

When Viper Sects our Parent Church subdu'd,
And Traytor Cromwell gorg'd himself with Blood;
Nor less distinguish'd Courage dar'd they show,
Against a diff'rent, but an equal Foe.
Their Worthies stem'd the Tide in Danger's Hour,
Against the Papal, as the Rebel Power:
In Youth, for Firmness to the Sire, undone,
In Hoary Age, ejected by the Son.
In vain each Shape the subtle Serpent tries,
With Schism would tear, with Heresy surprise,
Where Jane or Potter trac'd the latent Snare;
Where James and Beaumont fill'd the Sacred Chair,
And worthy fill'd: such Foreign Lands may stile
Justly the Glories of Britannia's Isle.
Whate'er self-praising Pedants idly say,
More proud of Ign'rance than of Learning They!
Let thrifty Atheists vote their Charters down,
Let Faction storm, and Superstition frown:
Let glitt'ring Beaus their little Wits engage,
And well-drest Vandals barbarously rage.
The more the Wise admire, convinc'd the more,
The Banks are needful when the Billows roar.

A Spoiler once possess'd the British Throne,
Who cur'd the Church's Av'rice by his own;
Scatter'd to Priests or Death or Famine round,
Reform'd the antient Temples to the Ground:
Yet Puritanick Saints some Gleanings met,
And what the Hail had spar'd, the Locusts eat,
This Anna deign'd with pitying Eye to see,
Supreme alike in Pow'r and Piety!

102

In Desarts wild the Prophet's Sons She fed,
And made the hungry Ravens bring them Bread;
And wisely lib'ral rais'd their growing Store,
Nor plunder'd from the Rich to feed the Poor.
How wide diffus'd the Charity extends,
When what the Prince begins, the Prelate ends!
For see the Loaves, which Gastrell's Hands divide,
Almost by Miracle are multiply'd.
At once by Precept and Example led,
From Breast to Breast infectious Bounty spread.
The Deists scarce from offering could withold,
And Misers wonder'd they should part with Gold;
Who grudge the smallest Mite to Churches giv'n,
And count it Loss on Earth, to gain in Heav'n.

Nor Gifts nor Wealth th' Apostles need require,
When God descending crown'd their Heads with Fire:
Subjected Nature's Course to their Commands,
Inspir'd their Lips, and acted by their Hands;
Thro' palsy'd Limbs fresh blooming Vigour shed,
And speak the Dead alive, and Living dead.
No Pow'rs like these their Successors can claim;
Tho' yet their Gospel and their God the same:
The noblest Preachers only now present
The calm still Wonder of a Life well-spent.
Such Gastrell liv'd on Duty bent alone,
Studious to profit All, but flatter None;
List'ning attentive to the Wretch's Cry,
The Griefs low-whisper'd, and the stifled Sigh:
When gath'ring Storms would touch his Soul with Fear,
Unmov'd, tho' Peals of Thunder struck his Ear:

103

Careful by Works his Faith unfeign'd to prove,
By Zeal unshaken, and unweary'd Love:
For tend'rest Love and warmest Zeal agree;
Nay, Zeal well-bounded turns to Charity,
That cheers the Faint, bright-shining from afar,
And guides to Jesus like the Wise-Men's Star.
Oh! would th' Incarnate God to Prelates give
To All like Him to write, like Him to live!
So Faith Divine might wider Beams display,
And win resistless o'er the World its Way:
So Rome the Gospel uncorrupt might own;
And haughty Pontiffs vail their Triple Crown.
The frozen North might Bishops' Thrones befriend,
And far as Thule to the Mitre bend!

Cautious and strict, what Stedfestness he show'd,
Ordaining Servants for the Courts of God!
Thither thro' him, no Feet unhallow'd came,
The Pass was guarded with a Sword of Flame.
No Criminals his awful Looks could bear,
Who fled to shelter, not to worship there:
Far let them fly, and seek in distant Lands
For less intrepid Hearts, and meaner Hands.
Nor Frown, nor Smile, nor Terror, nor Reward,
Mov'd him the Saviour's Church to disregard;
Almost as soon might Peter's Zeal have sold
His heav'nly Pow'rs for perishable Gold;
At Mammon's Beck dispens'd Ethereal Fire,
And made Apostles for a Wizard's Hire.

Some future Poet rise, the Prelate's Praise
Record sublime in ever-during Lays;

104

To deathless Ages give his Fame declar'd;
Such Heat celestial fir'd the glowing Bard,
For David's Heir his Harp when Prior strung,
Or Pope with noblest Flight Messiah sung.
His Glory thus preserv'd by Lays Divine,
In Song coëval with the World might shine;
When Gusts of Passion sink, no more to rise,
And envy mould'ring with his Ashes lies:
When Charms of present Int'rest shall decay,
And Faction's less'ning Murmurs die away:
When Virtue shall no more be deem'd a Crime,
But Truth emerging triumph over Time.
So when of Old, a Patriot great and good,
In Rome imperious or in Athens proud;
Some sore Affront to Clowns or Tribunes gave,
And scorn'd to flatter whom he fought to save;
His hated Worth they doom'd by publick Voice,
And Banishment or Death was all the Choice:
Too late convinc'd, their Rashness they deplor'd,
And whom they judg'd before, they now ador'd;
By Crowns and statues vain Repentance show'd,
And voted the Condemn'd into a God.

Gastrell the Art of Courts disdain'd to know,
And the smooth Polish of a fawning Brow;
His Tongue refus'd the subtle Stateman's Part,
And spoke the genuine Language of his Heart:
Fearless of pow'rful Anger's threat'ning Eye,
Too plain to double, and to brave to lie.
Those slavish abject Souls he scorn'd severe,
Who count Promotion never bought too dear;

105

Who ply for Years the meanest, basest Toil,
Pleas'd with a Nod, transported with a Smile:
Practise th' obeisant Cringe, th' expecting Face,
And watch each Turn of Whimsy in His Grace:
To ev'ry favour'd Liv'ry they can see,
Who crook the supple Hinges of the Knee;
Hard lab'ring on their worthless Heads to set
A Mitre Menial to a Coronet.

His Loyalty from genuine Motives flow'd,
True to his Prince, as faithful to his God:
Him solemn Oaths could tie tho' unconfin'd
By bonds of Int'rest base, or Passion blind:
By meaner Views while vulgar Subjects steer;
And fix Allegiance as they hope or fear;
Whom Rays of Favour must to Duty charm,
(Those who in Sun-shine bask may well be warm)
If plac'd on high they rule the Common-weal,
And well-paid Pensions recompense their Zeal:
But let the much-lov'd Sov'reign please to frown,
And coldly cast these zealous Servants down,
Down sinks the Weather-Glass; no more they praise,
But lose their Duty, when they lose their Place.
So common Trees their annual Dress put on,
Cheer'd by the Vernal Show'rs and Summer Sun;
While smiling Seasons last, they flourish fair,
But stormy Autumn leaves them dead or bear:
Not so the Laurel's constant Green we find,
Careless of fav'ring Sun or adverse Wind,
It holds its Leaf, when wint'ry Tempests blow,
And keeps it Verdure underneath the Snow.

106

The Prelate doom'd in Exile sad to rove,
(Forgive, Ye Great Ones, for I still must love!)
E'er yet the Thunder from its Cloud was fled,
Or lanc'd the Lightning pointed at His Head,
Found Gastrell firm an Enemy to defend;
Let Cowards leave, and Villains crush a Friend:
No conscious Guilt in common Danger ty'd,
No partial Favour warp'd him to His Side.
You that in Pomp of Grandeur strut your Hour,
In bright Meridian of an envy'd Pow'r,
Try all your Friends, of ev'ry Rank and Kind,
A Man like this amid your Thousands find:
Nor Levées throng'd his Equal can supply;
Nor Honours gain you, nor Exchequers buy!

When Loss of best-lov'd Friends ordain'd to know,
Next Pain and Guilt the greatest Ill below;
For vain the Hope which Mortal Breath supplies,
Since Oxford yields to Fate, and Anna dies!
Griev'd, not dismay'd, to Providence resign'd;
Nor Death he courted, nor at Life repin'd,
Tho' Crowds before him slept, from Toil releast,
And pious Smalridge had retir'd to Rest:
Nor fear'd, had Heav'n decreed it, to have stood
Adverse against a World, and singly good.

So brave Nassau oppos'd the Gallick Reign,
And found the Belgian Moles and Ramparts vain;
For less the Task old Ocean's Rage to guide,
Than stem the Fury of Ambition's Tide.

107

Dauntless tho' foil'd, and tho' out-number'd bold,
Unaw'd by Faction, and unbrib'd by Gold.
No Spot of Earth unfought the Hero gave,
No; 'till his Foes had earn'd it, not a Grave:
Late in the farthest Dike resolv'd to lie,
'Till Then to battle, and but There to die.