Poems on Several Occasions by Samuel Wesley. The Second Edition, with Additions |
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A PINDARICK ODE TO THE Right Hon. the Earl of Oxford.
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
169
A PINDARICK ODE TO THE Right Hon. the Earl of Oxford.
WRITTEN Soon after the Lady Margaret Harley was Recovered from a Fever.
I
When Cowley to his native IsleImported the Dircæan Song,
And high as Pindar rais'd his Stile,
As bold and spirited and strong,
The Judging Few the Strain admire
Unheard before in modern Lands,
And Ignorance condemns the Lyre
Which only Learning understands.
II
Not quite compleat the Poet rose,Inferior in his Numbers still;
Rugged the rapid Torrent flows,
By nothing limited but Will.
Th' audacious Verse no Fetters bind,
But wild as Air and unconfin'd,
He leaves the Theban Swan behind.
170
III
Sacred to Devil-Gods the SportsThat claim'd the Græcian Lays;
The Briton truer Virtue courts,
Yet, ah! his Lyrick Praise
We find unworthy Objects share,
We meet Assassin Brutus there.
I
No smiling Murderer be here,By whom the better Tyrant dies,
But Faith and Constancy appear,
And Harley's envied Virtue rise.
What Time ungrateful Party strove
T' insult the Dust of Anna dead;
And Thunder of an earthly Jove
Was pointed at his fearless Head:
II
His Country's Love no Foes repress,No Cæsar threat'ning from afar,
More nobly valiant in his Peace,
Than bravest Veterans in their War.
Steady he steers the Commonweal,
Tho' S*******n's Rage ordain'd to feel,
And Fury of a Guiscard's Steel.
III
Imperial Wrath intensely burn,And angry Senates low'r;
And mean-soul'd Faction Merit spurn
With Insolence of Pow'r.
So Providence with gracious Care
Rewards an Oxford by his Heir.
171
I
Hail, heav'n-born Piety! unknownWhere mad Ambition taints the Mind:
The Son usurps his Father's Throne;
The Father, by Resentment blind,
To Death or Bonds his Son consigns;
Both loudly pleading Publick Good:
And oft th' unbaptiz'd Sultan shines
In Purple of his Kindred Blood.
II
Not Kingdoms, from a Sire obtain'd,Can filial Jealousy remove;
See Savoy by his Son enchain'd,
Depos'd from Liberty and Love,
Nor need we roam so far to see
Gay guilty glitt'ring Great Ones free
From Nature and from Piety.
III
Where Love the Balm of Life we miss,What Station can be blest?
Nor highest Pomp affords us Bliss,
Nor softest Pillows Rest.
If Love Domestick smiles not there,
How poor the Garter and the Star!
I
Unmingled Pleasure, whence there springsNo Evil, Fate forbids below;
Diseases fruitful Autumn brings,
Fevers in fairest Sunshine glow:
172
A Fire wide-wasting through the Veins;
And Terrors of a Daughter's Death
Make happiest Parents suffer Pains.
II
Its Anguish either Breast conceal'd,Proportion'd as the Fever grows,
Throbb'd as the vital Current swell'd,
And panted as the Pulses rose.
Untented silent-wounding Smart,
Mead, who from Death can wrench the Dart,
Could ne'er yet reach it by his Art.
III
May each, the dreaded Danger past,Grateful their Hours employ,
To welcome coming Good, and taste
Vicissitude of Joy:
Joy, that may long as Life remain,
And great as their forgotten Pain.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |