The Works of William Mason :: :: University of Virginia Library

Here pause, fair Fancy, in thy flow'ry way
The varied verse, the imitative lay
Reject awhile; discard each fabling dream;
Paternal praise be now thy nobler theme;
And if the Muse, who through the realms of song
Gave Pope, now mute, to lead the tuneful throng,
In whose warm heart with mingling fervour shone
The glowing Poet and the tender Son,
His duteous heart and filial feelings pour
Through every artless line, I ask no more.

Enough for me, if he, whose name I bear,
With wonted candour bend his partial ear;

173

Enough, if he who always lov'd to blend
Advice with smiles, the father with the friend,
Accept the verse, how vain soe'er it prove,
Which aims to pay its tribute to the love,
That ever blest me since my course began,
From tender childhood to the dawn of man;
Nor in that course did e'er one boon refuse,
A son might ask, and innocence might use.

Can I forget, when first my infant ear
Caught each new melody it chanc'd to hear,
How prompt to foster seeds, that nature sow'd,
A master skill'd his gen'rous care bestow'd,
To teach how concord and how discord meet,
And form one strain methodically sweet?

Alike when active Fancy tried to trace
The rural landscape, or impassion'd face,
How to my aid he brought each written rule,
And free design of Painting's various school?

How, when my thoughts first flow'd in tinkling chime,
He smooth'd the verse, reform'd each faulty rhyme,
Nor check'd the Muse, just waking, in the strain,
Lest love of verse should quench the love of gain,
But smil'd assenting, fann'd the kindling fire,
And sunk the critic in the partial sire?

174

Much thanks for these; for arts like these have pow'r
To grace the chearful, sooth the peusive hour.
These shall dispense their calm, yet lively, joys,
When study pauses, or when business cloys;
Nor one dull hour drawl sullenly along,
While paint can please, or harmony, or song.

Thro' graver science now my steps to guide,
As years advance, see Marg'ret's dome supply'd
Her arching cloysters and her glimm'ring groves,
All, study claims, all, contemplation loves,
Are amply given; and, if I wish for more,
The town expands, and Thames, thy splendid shore!
Here free to rove, here feast my mind and eyes,
“Here catch the manners living as they rise,”
Here men with books impartially compare,
Learn what they should be, smile at what they are;
For Vanity, the world's despotic queen,
Ere we can know her truly, must be seen;
And if plain sense her steady glass supplies,
The more we see, the more we shall despise.

Permit me then, my Sire, awhile to view,
Thro' that clear perspective, her motley crew;
Nor fear thy son, by Fashion's frippery smit,
Should shun the Christian and pursue the Wit:
But sated quite, relinquishing with joy
Those vain delights, that soon as tasted cloy;

175

Each passion cool'd, that boils the tide of youth,
Each error purg'd, that dims the sight of truth,
O! may no wish for more his bosom own,
But all his manners speak him all thy son.

For, know, each academic duty paid,
Soon will he haste to his paternal shade;
There, fraught (great task) with Reason's nerve to tame
That hydra of the soul the thirst of fame;
His youthful breast, by years mature refin'd,
May shine the mirror of thy blameless mind,
And, free from public, as domestic, strife,
Slide thro' the tranquil stream of private life;
Yet, still alive to ev'ry social call,
Glow with that charity, which feels for all.

There too to truths divine may he aspire,
Wing'd and conducted by his practis'd Sire:
Pursue his flight, upborn on Faith's strong plume,
Nor fear of youthful Icarus the doom,
From Falsehood's maze sav'd by his guiding clue,
Rise as he rises, keep him still in view,
The Minotaur of Vice beneath him hurl'd,
And 'scap'd that worst of labyrinths, the World.

First printed 1797.

Alluding to Musæus and the two foregoing imitations of Milton, which the Author was then composing, but had not quite finished.