 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
TO The Right Honourable HENRY Earl of Clarendon and Rochester.
Forgive the Muse, if (yet unknown to Fame)
She seeks Protection from your Lordship's Name;
Weak in herself, she dares not hope to stand,
Unless supported by an abler Hand:
So creep the Ringlets of the tender Vine
Round some tall Elm, and all their Curls entwine,
Sweetly luxuriant by this Aid they rise,
And shoot their swelling Clusters to the Skies.
O! sweet as these could but my Numbers flow!
Could but my Verse to such full-Ripeness grow!
Then might I hope, nor hope in vain to see
The best of Patrons and of Friends in Thee:
But ah! my Lord! I know my self too well,
These Lines, these artless Lines my Weakness tell:
What Beauty must those Numbers recommend,
That fondly hope a Clarendon their Friend!
Bright in Each manly Grace must they appear,
Free as their Patron's Mien, and as his Virtues clear.
She seeks Protection from your Lordship's Name;
Unless supported by an abler Hand:
So creep the Ringlets of the tender Vine
Round some tall Elm, and all their Curls entwine,
Sweetly luxuriant by this Aid they rise,
And shoot their swelling Clusters to the Skies.
O! sweet as these could but my Numbers flow!
Could but my Verse to such full-Ripeness grow!
Then might I hope, nor hope in vain to see
The best of Patrons and of Friends in Thee:
But ah! my Lord! I know my self too well,
These Lines, these artless Lines my Weakness tell:
What Beauty must those Numbers recommend,
That fondly hope a Clarendon their Friend!
Bright in Each manly Grace must they appear,
Free as their Patron's Mien, and as his Virtues clear.
Poets were born the Great-Man's Paths to view,
And give the Patriot all a Patriot's Due;
To scan his Actions with impartial Eyes,
And yield him, what the Jealous World denies;
To trace his Footsteps to the Verge of Life,
Thro' Fortune's Maze, and the rough World of Strife;
And, as the glimmering Lamp of Life decays,
To Shade his Twilight Walks with Verdant Bays;
To the dark Vault attend his sacred Herse.
And sing his Triumphs in a Deathless Verse.
And give the Patriot all a Patriot's Due;
And yield him, what the Jealous World denies;
To trace his Footsteps to the Verge of Life,
Thro' Fortune's Maze, and the rough World of Strife;
And, as the glimmering Lamp of Life decays,
To Shade his Twilight Walks with Verdant Bays;
To the dark Vault attend his sacred Herse.
And sing his Triumphs in a Deathless Verse.
To Pollio Virgil's modest Lyre was strung,
And what Mæcenas favour'd, Horace sung:
Thou! in whom all their Virtues brighter shine,
Exert that Candour, which alone is Thine;
And spare the Blushes of my Virgin-Muse,
Who dares not hope for more than your Excuse.
And what Mæcenas favour'd, Horace sung:
Thou! in whom all their Virtues brighter shine,
Exert that Candour, which alone is Thine;
And spare the Blushes of my Virgin-Muse,
Who dares not hope for more than your Excuse.
Tho' all the Spirit of the Roman Lyre
Breaths not in mine, nor does my Breast inspire;
Yet let me boast the Sanction of a Name,
So Truly-Great in all the Rolls of Fame;
Yet let me boast (tho' low my Numbers be)
“Nor fear to tell, that Clarendon is He.
Breaths not in mine, nor does my Breast inspire;
So Truly-Great in all the Rolls of Fame;
Yet let me boast (tho' low my Numbers be)
“Nor fear to tell, that Clarendon is He.
George Woodward.
[What Words can fair Hortilia's Charms express?]
What Words can fair Hortilia's Charms express?Happy! could fair Hortilia charm us less!
How can I praise those dear, resistless Charms!
Those gently-heaving Breasts! those swelling Arms!
Those flowing Ringlets, that conspire to deck
The breathing Marble of her Iv'ry Neck!
Those pretty, pouting Lips! that killing Air!
That Mien, peculiar to the matchless Fair!
Those dimply Checks, where kindling Blushes rise!
And the soft Languish of her lovesick Eyes!
Sure Nature ne'er in One such Beauty joyn'd!
Happy the Nymph! whose winning Virtues grace
The transient Glories of so fair a Face.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |