 | A Collection of Miscellany poems and letters |  |
1
TO THE MEMORY OF The Illustrious Princess, ANNE Dutchess of Hamilton, Who died at her Apartments in the Palace of Holy-rood-house, August 1724.
Gone then, Illustrious Fair! And shall the MuseHer Duty to thy Memory refuse?
No, no; The Muse attends the sacred Hearse,
With the just Tribute of a native Verse:
Trembling she stands, and views the dismal Scene,
And in sad Accents thus repeats the Strain—
Gone then, illustrious Fair! The Eccho's round,
In hollow Notes, return the dying Sound.
2
Abandon Earth, and hasten to the Sky.
The mournful Nymph, and the dejected Swain,
Amaz'd, forsake the inauspicious Plain;
The feather'd Songsters, thro' the gloomy Groves,
Renounce their Musick, and disclaim their Loves.
Horrour sits brooding on th'abandon'd Shore,
And the departed Graces charm no more.
Cou'd thine Angelick Form, or glorious Race,
Have added to the Number of thy Days;
Thy matchless Beauty, and thy Princely State,
Had strove for Conquest, and disputed Fate.
Cou'd all the Virtues blended in thine Heart,
Have stood the Shock, or stopt the fatal Dart;
Then had the Tyrant aim'd his Shafts in Vain,
And the fair Saint had triumph'd on the Plain.
Fond Thoughts!
Nor durst those Shafts that heav'nly Form assail,
Nor cou'd the Tyrant o'er the Saint prevail.
Angels beheld her with a loving Eye,
All form'd for Bliss, and fitted for the Sky.
3
And point where earthly Graces match their own.
Then spoke th'Almighty!
Seraphs! Rescue the Saint from Pain and Noise,
And plant her Soul amidst your richest Joys.
The Pow'rs obey'd!
Then straight a mighty Squadron wings its Way,
And downward rides, triumphant on the Day.
The floating Host, thro' Fields of fluid Air,
Reflects new Glories on each brightned Sphere.
Those Regions past, the gay Immortal Crowd,
All flaming, o'er the regal Fabrick stood.
Just as the Fair in pious Raptures rose,
And for her Theme the Blest Messiah chose;
Lo! thro' the Dome bright Raphael softly stole,
And 'midst th'Ejaculation catch'd her Soul.
Back thro' the Air they wing their rapid Way,
And rise in louder Anthems on the Day.
Cease then, Illustrious Prince! Nor ask Relief
From this wild Rage, and Luxury of Grief.
4
Molest th'Harmonious Seraphs on their Way:
Grateful resign what God had kindly given,
Nor once dispute the Property of Heav'n.
Adieu, Great Patriot; thy Grief controul,
And let her dear Remembrance charm thy Soul.
May her soft Image in thy Bosom rest,
And sooth, but ne'er torment thy faithful Breast:
May her new Glories on her Consort shine,
And all her Joys be, by Reflexion, thine.
And let her dear Remembrance charm thy Soul.
May her soft Image in thy Bosom rest,
And sooth, but ne'er torment thy faithful Breast:
May her new Glories on her Consort shine,
And all her Joys be, by Reflexion, thine.
Thus happy mayst thou live, Illustrious Soul!
'Till, late, thy Spirit, mounting to the Pole,
Shall meet thy Spouse amidst the Realms of Day,
And melt a soft Eternity away.
'Till, late, thy Spirit, mounting to the Pole,
Shall meet thy Spouse amidst the Realms of Day,
And melt a soft Eternity away.
5
TO THE Ingenious Author of the following Poem.
As
none but Scots, in Battle, e'er defy'd
The Roman Arms, and check'd their growing Pride,
So Scotish Bards alone with equal Fame,
In Roman Lays, cou'd vye with Ancient Rome;
Equal they soar'd aloft, with boundless Flight,
And left th'Inferiour Nations out of Sight!
The Roman Arms, and check'd their growing Pride,
So Scotish Bards alone with equal Fame,
In Roman Lays, cou'd vye with Ancient Rome;
Equal they soar'd aloft, with boundless Flight,
And left th'Inferiour Nations out of Sight!
But while they triumph thus in Latin Bays,
The English Bards, in English, claim the Praise:
Pope's sprightly Genius strives to gain the Race,
And follows Homer with an equal Pace;
And matchless Add'son, in his fam'd Campaign,
Like Virgil's Hero makes his Marlbro' shine.
The English Bards, in English, claim the Praise:
Pope's sprightly Genius strives to gain the Race,
And follows Homer with an equal Pace;
And matchless Add'son, in his fam'd Campaign,
Like Virgil's Hero makes his Marlbro' shine.
Our Scotish Swains have follow'd these in vain,
Sibboleth still confess'd the native Strain:
But You, my Friend, have in your Poem shown
What Add'son's self, without a Blush, might own.
The Valiant KEITH no less than Marlbro' shines,
Above in Merit, equal in thy Lines.
Sibboleth still confess'd the native Strain:
But You, my Friend, have in your Poem shown
What Add'son's self, without a Blush, might own.
6
Above in Merit, equal in thy Lines.
Go on, my Friend, in manly Verse inspire
Our Scotish Youth with Ancient Scotish Fire;
Paint Bruce's Actions in their brillant Light,
And all the Glories of th'unequal Fight;
Here Douglas follow'd, There the English run,
And Seas of Saxon Gore swell'd Bannock-Burn.
Our Scotish Youth with Ancient Scotish Fire;
Paint Bruce's Actions in their brillant Light,
And all the Glories of th'unequal Fight;
Here Douglas follow'd, There the English run,
And Seas of Saxon Gore swell'd Bannock-Burn.
Tho' Scotia's Sons, o' late degen'rate grown,
Tamely gave up their Sov'reign and their Crown,
Inglorious Wretches! who their Country sold,
And meanly barter'd Liberty for Gold;
Slaves to the proud insulting Saxon Race,
How will they look their Fathers in the Face,
When in th'Elysian Shades? if e'er they reach that Place.
Tamely gave up their Sov'reign and their Crown,
Inglorious Wretches! who their Country sold,
And meanly barter'd Liberty for Gold;
Slaves to the proud insulting Saxon Race,
How will they look their Fathers in the Face,
When in th'Elysian Shades? if e'er they reach that Place.
Yet some there are who injur'd Albion's Right
Dare still assert, and for her Cause dare Fight;
True Fergus' Sons, of whose untainted Blood
No sordid Drop e'er stain'd the Crimson Flood:
These be thy Theme, their glorious Acts proclaim,
And Eternize thy Numbers in their Fame.
Dare still assert, and for her Cause dare Fight;
True Fergus' Sons, of whose untainted Blood
No sordid Drop e'er stain'd the Crimson Flood:
These be thy Theme, their glorious Acts proclaim,
And Eternize thy Numbers in their Fame.
GEO. DENUNE, M. D.
7
TO THE MEMORY OF The Right Honourable, WILLIAM late Earl of Kintore.
Whilst Thou, Great Soul, pursu'st Thy airy Way,
Mount'st on a Thought, and bear'st on endless Day;
Whilst, on Immortal Wing, Thou skim'st the Skies,
And view'st the whirling Orbs with vast Surprize:
Now whilst, Sublime, Thou soar'st above the Pole,
Where Matter is no more, and no more Worlds roll:
Mount'st on a Thought, and bear'st on endless Day;
Whilst, on Immortal Wing, Thou skim'st the Skies,
And view'st the whirling Orbs with vast Surprize:
Now whilst, Sublime, Thou soar'st above the Pole,
Where Matter is no more, and no more Worlds roll:
Please stoop, Great Shade, a Moment on thy Wing,
And hear an humble Bard devoutly sing.
Fain wou'd I all Thy ancient Glory trace,
And sing th'immortal Honours of Thy Race:
Conscious of native Weakness, all in vain,
An humble Muse attempts the Lofty Strain.
Whilst I the vast, the arduous Task pursue,
What Scenes of Wonder open to my View?
Glories on Glories, still successive, rise,
Whilst all th'immortal Race assert their native Skies!
Yet fondly still the Muse attempts their Fame,
And still, unequal, sinks beneath the arduous Theme.
So sprightly Pope doth all his Force engage
To reach the Heights of the Mœonian Page,
Sublime on daring Wing, thro' Paths ne'er trod,
He views Great Homer tow'ring like a God;
Fir'd with unequal Rage, he toils in vain,
And heaves, and gasps, opprest beneath the mighty Scene.
And hear an humble Bard devoutly sing.
8
And sing th'immortal Honours of Thy Race:
Conscious of native Weakness, all in vain,
An humble Muse attempts the Lofty Strain.
Whilst I the vast, the arduous Task pursue,
What Scenes of Wonder open to my View?
Glories on Glories, still successive, rise,
Whilst all th'immortal Race assert their native Skies!
Yet fondly still the Muse attempts their Fame,
And still, unequal, sinks beneath the arduous Theme.
So sprightly Pope doth all his Force engage
To reach the Heights of the Mœonian Page,
Sublime on daring Wing, thro' Paths ne'er trod,
He views Great Homer tow'ring like a God;
Fir'd with unequal Rage, he toils in vain,
And heaves, and gasps, opprest beneath the mighty Scene.
Ye Pow'rs! Be kind for once; For once inspire
A willing Genius with uncommon Fire.
And Thou, Great Shade, dart, from thy native Skie
A Smile propitious, on my feeble Lays.
I feel th'inspiring Ray!—my Spirits rowl;
And Tides of Rapture swell my lab'ring Soul.
Where shall the Muse thy Ancient Glories trace?
Back to fam'd Barry let us haste apace.
A willing Genius with uncommon Fire.
And Thou, Great Shade, dart, from thy native Skie
A Smile propitious, on my feeble Lays.
I feel th'inspiring Ray!—my Spirits rowl;
9
Where shall the Muse thy Ancient Glories trace?
Back to fam'd Barry let us haste apace.
Triumphant Sweno, insolently proud,
In all the Pomp of Lust and Rapine rode
Thro' ruin'd England, which oppos'd in vain,
And, conquer'd, tamely dragg'd th'inglorious Chain.
How did the bold successful Tyrant smile,
Hoping to bound his Conquest with the Isle?
Against the Scots his conqu'ring Arms he bends,
And Hardy Camus, to reduce them, sends.
In all the Pomp of Lust and Rapine rode
Thro' ruin'd England, which oppos'd in vain,
And, conquer'd, tamely dragg'd th'inglorious Chain.
How did the bold successful Tyrant smile,
Hoping to bound his Conquest with the Isle?
Against the Scots his conqu'ring Arms he bends,
And Hardy Camus, to reduce them, sends.
From Cimbrian Shores, in haste, the warlike Dane,
Thirsting for Glory, lanches to the Main.
Swift, with inspiring Gales, he's wafted o'er,
And, in Bodotria's Channel, seeks the Shore.
Thirsting for Glory, lanches to the Main.
Swift, with inspiring Gales, he's wafted o'er,
And, in Bodotria's Channel, seeks the Shore.
Vain Enterprize!—
In shining Steel the Scotish Squadrons stand,
And Death and Terror guard the fatal Strand.
Enrag'd, he turns, and skimming Rossia's Coasts,
On Fair Æneia's Shore he lands the Barb'rous Host:
And Death and Terror guard the fatal Strand.
Enrag'd, he turns, and skimming Rossia's Coasts,
On Fair Æneia's Shore he lands the Barb'rous Host:
10
No sooner from their Ships the Troops descend,
But Sword and Fire and Ruin waste the Land.
They all the Villages to Ashes turn,
And, with devouring Flames, the yellow Harvests burn.
Alarm'd, Great Malcolm, ere it was too late,
Hastes to prevent his sinking Country's Fate;
Straightway the Gilded Lyon waves in Air,
Round which, in Throngs, the daring Scots appear,
Their native Rights all eager to assert,
Glory and Freedom glows in ev'ry Heart.
With Care paternal, anxious Malcolm scanns
Th'Events of War, and conquer'd England's Chains.
But Sword and Fire and Ruin waste the Land.
They all the Villages to Ashes turn,
And, with devouring Flames, the yellow Harvests burn.
Alarm'd, Great Malcolm, ere it was too late,
Hastes to prevent his sinking Country's Fate;
Straightway the Gilded Lyon waves in Air,
Round which, in Throngs, the daring Scots appear,
Their native Rights all eager to assert,
Glory and Freedom glows in ev'ry Heart.
With Care paternal, anxious Malcolm scanns
Th'Events of War, and conquer'd England's Chains.
Now did the rapid Sun his Beams display,
And, mounting, darts around the dreadful Day;
The Hostile Squadrons now each other view'd,
Glitt'ring in horrid Iron; the Legions stood
In terrible Aray; Extended far
O'er Barry's direful Plains; a dreadful Length of War!
Their shining Arms reflect the blended Rays,
And flash on either Host a dismal Blaze.
Thus rang'd in steely Pomp, and deep Aray,
The eager Troops demand the bloody Day.
And, mounting, darts around the dreadful Day;
The Hostile Squadrons now each other view'd,
Glitt'ring in horrid Iron; the Legions stood
In terrible Aray; Extended far
O'er Barry's direful Plains; a dreadful Length of War!
Their shining Arms reflect the blended Rays,
And flash on either Host a dismal Blaze.
Thus rang'd in steely Pomp, and deep Aray,
The eager Troops demand the bloody Day.
11
Then streight the sprightly Trumpet, from afar,
Swelling with awful Clang, inspires the War:
And whilst the Hills the loud Alarm rebound,
Each Hero feels his Soul dilating with the Sound.
Swelling with awful Clang, inspires the War:
And whilst the Hills the loud Alarm rebound,
Each Hero feels his Soul dilating with the Sound.
But, O my Muse, what Numbers wilt thou find,
To sing the ancient Scots in Battle joyn'd?
The Signal given; Wing'd with impetuous Rage,
The Rapid Squadrons furiously engage!
So rush the warring Elements on high,
When Tides meet Tides encount'ring in the Sky;
When wat'ry Floods and Flames together roll,
And, with their hideous Roar, confound the Pole.
To sing the ancient Scots in Battle joyn'd?
The Signal given; Wing'd with impetuous Rage,
The Rapid Squadrons furiously engage!
So rush the warring Elements on high,
When Tides meet Tides encount'ring in the Sky;
When wat'ry Floods and Flames together roll,
And, with their hideous Roar, confound the Pole.
Now Hate and Glory fire their Souls by Turns,
And in full Fury all the Battle burns.
From temper'd Steel the streaming Flashes fly,
Blending a horrid Gleam, and mingling with the Day!
The Rushing Nations mix their dismal Cries,
And Shouts and dying Grones torment the Skies.
And in full Fury all the Battle burns.
From temper'd Steel the streaming Flashes fly,
Blending a horrid Gleam, and mingling with the Day!
The Rushing Nations mix their dismal Cries,
And Shouts and dying Grones torment the Skies.
With former Success flush'd th'insulting Dane,
Born on a rapid Courser, scours the Plain,
Urging the War; The Scotish Troops give Way,
Confus'd in Heaps expiring Squadrons lay,
And anxious Malcolm sees the sad declining Day.
With sudden Dread he feels his Spirits chill'd,
And Pale, and Hopeless, views the deadly Field.
Born on a rapid Courser, scours the Plain,
12
Confus'd in Heaps expiring Squadrons lay,
And anxious Malcolm sees the sad declining Day.
With sudden Dread he feels his Spirits chill'd,
And Pale, and Hopeless, views the deadly Field.
Now, Gen'rous KEITH! Now does Thy awful Name
Commence its Glory in the Rolls of Fame.
Hail, Godlike Youth! who, fir'd with gen'rous Grief,
Flew to Thy Country's, and Thy King's Relief;
Born on Revenge, Thou wing'st Thy dreadful Way,
Rushing thro' all the Havock of the Day;
Thro' Death and Ruin driv'st upon Thy Foes,
Restor'st Thy Country's Honour, and the Cause.
In Heaps expiring ly the mangled Danes,
And Hills of Carnage glut the fatal Plains.
The rapid Lochty, choak'd with Tides of Blood,
Rolls, groning, to the Sea, a Crimson Flood.
Slaughter, with clotted Hair, and pale Dismay,
Stalk ghastly o'er the Ruins of the Day.
Commence its Glory in the Rolls of Fame.
Hail, Godlike Youth! who, fir'd with gen'rous Grief,
Flew to Thy Country's, and Thy King's Relief;
Born on Revenge, Thou wing'st Thy dreadful Way,
Rushing thro' all the Havock of the Day;
Thro' Death and Ruin driv'st upon Thy Foes,
Restor'st Thy Country's Honour, and the Cause.
In Heaps expiring ly the mangled Danes,
And Hills of Carnage glut the fatal Plains.
The rapid Lochty, choak'd with Tides of Blood,
Rolls, groning, to the Sea, a Crimson Flood.
Slaughter, with clotted Hair, and pale Dismay,
Stalk ghastly o'er the Ruins of the Day.
Thus at fam'd Loncarty, when murd'ring Danes
Had drove the Scotish Legions from the Plains;
Undaunted HAY beholds the shameful Foil,
And swiftly rushing from his homely Toil,
Choaks the base Flight, and bars the Victor's Way,
And, Thund'ring with his Yoke, restores the Day.
Had drove the Scotish Legions from the Plains;
13
And swiftly rushing from his homely Toil,
Choaks the base Flight, and bars the Victor's Way,
And, Thund'ring with his Yoke, restores the Day.
Illustrious HAY! O may thy ancient Name,
Thy Country's early Pride! The Muses Theme!
Ne'er be forgotten in the List of Fame.
Bright, as Thy self, may all Thy godlike Line
For ever in the Scotish Annals shine.
Thy Country's early Pride! The Muses Theme!
Ne'er be forgotten in the List of Fame.
Bright, as Thy self, may all Thy godlike Line
For ever in the Scotish Annals shine.
Thus then, Great Keith, from rescu'd Scotland's Fate
Thy Train of ancient Honours takes its Date.
Malcolm, who strictly cou'd the Field survey,
Soon had Thy great Ancestor in his Eye;
And those high Marks of Honour straight bestows,
That justly to his Services he owes,
Which, in their native Splendour, still unstain'd,
His Godlike Sons have gloriously maintain'd.
Thy Train of ancient Honours takes its Date.
Malcolm, who strictly cou'd the Field survey,
Soon had Thy great Ancestor in his Eye;
And those high Marks of Honour straight bestows,
That justly to his Services he owes,
Which, in their native Splendour, still unstain'd,
His Godlike Sons have gloriously maintain'd.
Fain wou'd I sing each Hero of the Line,
But the vast Task controuls the just Design;
For ne'er did Fortune raise or sink the State,
But each brave KEITH still shar'd his Country's Fate.
But the vast Task controuls the just Design;
For ne'er did Fortune raise or sink the State,
But each brave KEITH still shar'd his Country's Fate.
14
Must then, Illustrious Shade, th'ungrateful Muse
Her Tribute to thy gen'rous Sire refuse?
No, no; For ever may his Glory live,
Brightned with all the Charms the Muse can give.
In Scotland ever be his Name observ'd,
Dear to her as the Honours he preserv'd.
Her Tribute to thy gen'rous Sire refuse?
No, no; For ever may his Glory live,
Brightned with all the Charms the Muse can give.
In Scotland ever be his Name observ'd,
Dear to her as the Honours he preserv'd.
Long had the Tyrant Cromwel proudly Reign'd,
And, bold in Success, Gods and Men disdain'd;
With impious Joy had seen his Conquests swell,
On Witchcraft founded, and secur'd by Hell.
Long had with Artifice, and sly Pretence,
Abus'd the Nation, and confounded Sense.
Britain of all her Rights is quite bereav'd,
And with the Sound of Liberty enslav'd.
Her Provinces o'errun, her Cities spoil'd,
Her Sov'reign butcher'd, and his Heirs exil'd.
Wrapt in his Gyant-crimes, he braves the Skies,
And Heav'n and Earth and all, but Hell, defyes.
Now wants he nothing to complete his Game,
But th'Ensigns Royal, and a Monarch's Name.
His too obsequious Friends mistake the Plot,
Balk him in This, as did thy Sire in That.
And, bold in Success, Gods and Men disdain'd;
With impious Joy had seen his Conquests swell,
On Witchcraft founded, and secur'd by Hell.
Long had with Artifice, and sly Pretence,
Abus'd the Nation, and confounded Sense.
Britain of all her Rights is quite bereav'd,
And with the Sound of Liberty enslav'd.
Her Provinces o'errun, her Cities spoil'd,
Her Sov'reign butcher'd, and his Heirs exil'd.
Wrapt in his Gyant-crimes, he braves the Skies,
And Heav'n and Earth and all, but Hell, defyes.
Now wants he nothing to complete his Game,
But th'Ensigns Royal, and a Monarch's Name.
His too obsequious Friends mistake the Plot,
Balk him in This, as did thy Sire in That.
15
Hail, wondrous Youth! Who, obstinately Good,
Unmov'd, 'midst all the Shocks of Faction stood;
Consummate Prudence in thy Youth appears,
And Manly Wisdom decks thy Childish Years.
Early, in Thee, Nature her self outran,
And form'd the Patriot before the Man.—
Unmov'd, 'midst all the Shocks of Faction stood;
Consummate Prudence in thy Youth appears,
And Manly Wisdom decks thy Childish Years.
Early, in Thee, Nature her self outran,
And form'd the Patriot before the Man.—
But now, Great Soul, Thy self, the Muse's Theme,
Her Energy commands, and all her Flame.
She views thee shining in thy double Charms,
Renown'd in Piety, as well's in Arms.
The Hero and the Saint divide her Lays,
Both she admires, and knows not where to praise.
If trac'd to thy Retirement, we shall find
Thy Moments all Devotion, all resign'd.
When Hearts like thine feel Heav'n's inspiring Rays,
They shed around no faint, no vulgar Blaze.
Uncommon Raptures thro' the Vitals roll,
And Flames of Ardour bear the mounting Soul.
Thus oft, by Pray'r, thy Mind all rais'd on High,
Was lost in Bliss, and liv'd on Extasy.
Nor stood thy Piety in this alone,
The Theory bright in the Practice shone;
Thy lib'ral Hand still dealt thy bounteous Store,
Reliev'd the Needy, and supply'd the Poor.
Her Energy commands, and all her Flame.
She views thee shining in thy double Charms,
Renown'd in Piety, as well's in Arms.
The Hero and the Saint divide her Lays,
Both she admires, and knows not where to praise.
If trac'd to thy Retirement, we shall find
Thy Moments all Devotion, all resign'd.
When Hearts like thine feel Heav'n's inspiring Rays,
They shed around no faint, no vulgar Blaze.
Uncommon Raptures thro' the Vitals roll,
And Flames of Ardour bear the mounting Soul.
Thus oft, by Pray'r, thy Mind all rais'd on High,
Was lost in Bliss, and liv'd on Extasy.
Nor stood thy Piety in this alone,
16
Thy lib'ral Hand still dealt thy bounteous Store,
Reliev'd the Needy, and supply'd the Poor.
But hark! Once more Bellona sounds to Arms,
And daring Scots are ravisht with her Charms;
Undaunted to the Field they rush in Throngs,
All eager to redress their Country's Wrongs.
Behold the Hero, with his warlike Train,
In martial Pomp, advancing to the Plain;
Unmov'd, He hears the Thund'ring Engines roar;
And, fearless, marches on thro' Tides of Gore.
Inspir'd with Rage, and with his Country's Cause,
He rushes, like a Torrent, on his Foes.
Confus'd around ly scatter'd Heaps of slain,
And Crimson Streams float o'er the Purple Plain.
And daring Scots are ravisht with her Charms;
Undaunted to the Field they rush in Throngs,
All eager to redress their Country's Wrongs.
Behold the Hero, with his warlike Train,
In martial Pomp, advancing to the Plain;
Unmov'd, He hears the Thund'ring Engines roar;
And, fearless, marches on thro' Tides of Gore.
Inspir'd with Rage, and with his Country's Cause,
He rushes, like a Torrent, on his Foes.
Confus'd around ly scatter'd Heaps of slain,
And Crimson Streams float o'er the Purple Plain.
But ah! Great George, how shall my Thoughts get free
To speak the Fullness of my Soul for Thee?
We saw Thee, when, impatient of the Rein,
Thy bounding Courser paw'd the dusty Plain;
We saw Thee rush, (and wondred at the Sight!)
Dauntless thro' all the Ruins of the Fight;
When Thy vast Soul, too prodigally Great,
Brav'd sulph'rous Storms, and Tempests wing'd with Fate!
Immortal George! we saw what Heaps of Foes
Fell Victims to thy Fury, and the Cause.—
But here the fetter'd Muse must skim the Shore;
Fain wou'd she rise, but knows she dares not soar.
To speak the Fullness of my Soul for Thee?
We saw Thee, when, impatient of the Rein,
Thy bounding Courser paw'd the dusty Plain;
We saw Thee rush, (and wondred at the Sight!)
Dauntless thro' all the Ruins of the Fight;
17
Brav'd sulph'rous Storms, and Tempests wing'd with Fate!
Immortal George! we saw what Heaps of Foes
Fell Victims to thy Fury, and the Cause.—
But here the fetter'd Muse must skim the Shore;
Fain wou'd she rise, but knows she dares not soar.
Farewell, Great Shade! But see th'Illustrious Fair
Melting in Woe, and plung'd in deep Despair,
In all her Pomp of solemn Grief appears,
Beauteous in Clouds, and Charming in her Tears!
Ah! cease, Divinely Fair, thy useless Cries,
And on thy blooming Off-spring turn thine Eyes.
Repress each rising Sigh, each pious Groan,
And view the Sire reviving in the Son:
The Son! whom ev'ry Grace conspires t'adorn,
To better Times, we hope, and softer Periods born.
Melting in Woe, and plung'd in deep Despair,
In all her Pomp of solemn Grief appears,
Beauteous in Clouds, and Charming in her Tears!
Ah! cease, Divinely Fair, thy useless Cries,
And on thy blooming Off-spring turn thine Eyes.
Repress each rising Sigh, each pious Groan,
And view the Sire reviving in the Son:
The Son! whom ev'ry Grace conspires t'adorn,
To better Times, we hope, and softer Periods born.
Farewell, Great Shade! too long, with pious Strains
Th'officious Muse thy sacred Ear detains;
Too long she fondly dwells upon thy Praise,
In artless Numbers, and unmeasur'd Lays.
Th'officious Muse thy sacred Ear detains;
Too long she fondly dwells upon thy Praise,
In artless Numbers, and unmeasur'd Lays.
18
Farewell, Illustrious Shade! pursue thy Way,
To the bright Regions of Eternal Day:
And whilst, on rapid Wing, thou bend'st thy Flight
Thro' flaming Spheres, and Tides of Purple Light,
Where thou behold'st Omnipotence on High,
Enthron'd in Splendours, and a Blaze of Day!
There, while thou roam'st in boundless Happiness,
Lost in eternal Extasies of Bliss;
Here shalt thou live Immortal in thy Fame,
And latest Ages shall applaud thy Name.
To the bright Regions of Eternal Day:
And whilst, on rapid Wing, thou bend'st thy Flight
Thro' flaming Spheres, and Tides of Purple Light,
Where thou behold'st Omnipotence on High,
Enthron'd in Splendours, and a Blaze of Day!
There, while thou roam'st in boundless Happiness,
Lost in eternal Extasies of Bliss;
Here shalt thou live Immortal in thy Fame,
And latest Ages shall applaud thy Name.
19
TO The much Honoured, Alexander Campbell, Commissary of the Castle of Edinburgh.
Well gen'rous Highland-man! We saw thy Strains,
Soft as the Breezes on Evonian Plains:
Like as the Stream that slakes the Western Roe,
We saw thy pure untainted Numbers flow.
Proud to behold Thee 'midst the Poet-Throng,
The tuneful Nine came crouding to the Song;
Phœbus himself rejoyc'd to see the Swain
Advance Superiour, to adorn the Plain.
Soft were the Sounds, when Campbell touch'd the Lyre,
And deep th'Attention of the listning Quire.
Each charming Cadence of the num'rous Song
Dy'd in th'Applauses of the wond'ring Throng.
Soft as the Breezes on Evonian Plains:
Like as the Stream that slakes the Western Roe,
We saw thy pure untainted Numbers flow.
Proud to behold Thee 'midst the Poet-Throng,
The tuneful Nine came crouding to the Song;
Phœbus himself rejoyc'd to see the Swain
Advance Superiour, to adorn the Plain.
20
And deep th'Attention of the listning Quire.
Each charming Cadence of the num'rous Song
Dy'd in th'Applauses of the wond'ring Throng.
Hail, Godlike Man! Whom tuneful Bards of old,
And all the Druids from their Cells foretold.
Bards! Who at first on Thine own Mountains Sung,
When Western Groves with runic Numbers rung.
Proud of their Son! Their airy Forms advance,
And, pois'd on Atoms, to thy Measures dance.
Joyful they see, what they had erst divin'd,
True ancient Strength, with modern Softness joyn'd.
Joyful they see Thy bold inspiring Lays
At once transcend our Envy and our Praise.
And all the Druids from their Cells foretold.
Bards! Who at first on Thine own Mountains Sung,
When Western Groves with runic Numbers rung.
Proud of their Son! Their airy Forms advance,
And, pois'd on Atoms, to thy Measures dance.
Joyful they see, what they had erst divin'd,
True ancient Strength, with modern Softness joyn'd.
Joyful they see Thy bold inspiring Lays
At once transcend our Envy and our Praise.
But tell me how Thou cam'st, Illustrious Swain!
T'observe a lonely Shepherd on the Plain?
The last and meanest of the tuneful Throng,
Poor as his Thoughts, and Artless as his Song;
Obscurely born, where chilling Tempests fly,
And Storms, incessant, sweep a Northern Sky;
In Climes, where Hyperborean Billows roar,
And beat a Bleak inhospitable Shore.—
T'observe a lonely Shepherd on the Plain?
The last and meanest of the tuneful Throng,
Poor as his Thoughts, and Artless as his Song;
Obscurely born, where chilling Tempests fly,
And Storms, incessant, sweep a Northern Sky;
21
And beat a Bleak inhospitable Shore.—
'Twas kind thus to regard a lowly Name,
Lost to all Merit, and unknown to Fame;
'Twas kinder still, to Mark him in the Throng,
To own his Numbers, and approve his Song.
Lost to all Merit, and unknown to Fame;
'Twas kinder still, to Mark him in the Throng,
To own his Numbers, and approve his Song.
Hail, Gen'rous Man! Still may Thy ancient Race,
The Camp, the Court, and Plain, unrival'd, Grace.
Behold thy Chief adorn'd with glorious Scars,
And deckt with Laurels brought from foreign Wars.
Blaregnies still resounds the Hero's Fame,
Reveres at once, and trembles at the Name.
Now fair Augusta's Court the Warriour Charms,
And Ilay shines in Arts, as he in Arms.
The Camp, the Court, and Plain, unrival'd, Grace.
Behold thy Chief adorn'd with glorious Scars,
And deckt with Laurels brought from foreign Wars.
Blaregnies still resounds the Hero's Fame,
Reveres at once, and trembles at the Name.
Now fair Augusta's Court the Warriour Charms,
And Ilay shines in Arts, as he in Arms.
A Gen'rous Campbell gives Edina Laws,
Supports the Weak, Asserts the injur'd Cause;
Beneath his Influence, the Poor oppress'd
Smiles in his Wrongs, secure to be redress'd.
Fix'd to the Right, amidst our Jarrs unmov'd,
He's fear'd by all, by all esteem'd and lov'd.
Supports the Weak, Asserts the injur'd Cause;
Beneath his Influence, the Poor oppress'd
Smiles in his Wrongs, secure to be redress'd.
Fix'd to the Right, amidst our Jarrs unmov'd,
He's fear'd by all, by all esteem'd and lov'd.
22
Farewell now, Gen'rous Swain, and pray Excuse
These fainter Sallies of a bashful Muse;
So may thy Race still rise to Arts and Arms,
And Thou possess the fair Campbella's Charms.
Campbella! late, the Boast of ev'ry Grove,
Retires now, happy in her Virgin-Love;
Blest in her faithful Swain, she quits the Shades,
And leaves to other Nymphs the lonely Glades.
Her blooming Progeny her Thoughts engage,
Advancing still in Beauty as in Age.
Still may they bloom, and, like their Parents, reign,
The future Pride and Glory of the Plain.
These fainter Sallies of a bashful Muse;
So may thy Race still rise to Arts and Arms,
And Thou possess the fair Campbella's Charms.
Campbella! late, the Boast of ev'ry Grove,
Retires now, happy in her Virgin-Love;
Blest in her faithful Swain, she quits the Shades,
And leaves to other Nymphs the lonely Glades.
Her blooming Progeny her Thoughts engage,
Advancing still in Beauty as in Age.
Still may they bloom, and, like their Parents, reign,
The future Pride and Glory of the Plain.
30
To the Ingenious Author of the following POEM.
No
, happy Man! The Bays shall not be thine;
I'll pluck 'em from thy Brows, to place on mine,
How cou'd you think I e'er wou'd quit the Field,
And undisputed Laurels tamely yield?
What tho' with Ease and Strength your Numbers flow?
In mine, sure, equal Ease and Strength I'll show.
But ah! in yours a heav'nly Train appear!
Awful their Beauties, and their Charms severe!
With Love and Reverence they strike mine Eyes,
And force me, spite o' me, to yield the Prize.
To sing of such a Heav'n, with such Success!
A Pope, or Tickel had expected less.
But stay, with the same Breath I praise and blame,
With you an equal Share of Bays I claim;
Tho' you deserve a greater Share than them.
When Envy blinds us, when misled by Pride,
Reason must yield, and Judgment cease to guide:
So if a Charioteer should drop the Rein,
Th'unruly Coursers, whom no Bit restrain,
Scour o'er the Fields, the Coach in Pieces flies;
Here ly the Wheels, and there the Coachman lies.
I'll pluck 'em from thy Brows, to place on mine,
How cou'd you think I e'er wou'd quit the Field,
And undisputed Laurels tamely yield?
What tho' with Ease and Strength your Numbers flow?
In mine, sure, equal Ease and Strength I'll show.
But ah! in yours a heav'nly Train appear!
Awful their Beauties, and their Charms severe!
With Love and Reverence they strike mine Eyes,
And force me, spite o' me, to yield the Prize.
To sing of such a Heav'n, with such Success!
A Pope, or Tickel had expected less.
But stay, with the same Breath I praise and blame,
With you an equal Share of Bays I claim;
Tho' you deserve a greater Share than them.
When Envy blinds us, when misled by Pride,
Reason must yield, and Judgment cease to guide:
31
Th'unruly Coursers, whom no Bit restrain,
Scour o'er the Fields, the Coach in Pieces flies;
Here ly the Wheels, and there the Coachman lies.
I yield, I yield! I own my self o'ercome;
The Beauties of your Verse have struck me dumb.
I'm humbly pleas'd to be the Muses Friend,
You to a nobler Title now pretend;
The bright Assembly's Poet! that's a Name
To which Apollo proudly might lay Claim.
The Beauties of your Verse have struck me dumb.
I'm humbly pleas'd to be the Muses Friend,
You to a nobler Title now pretend;
The bright Assembly's Poet! that's a Name
To which Apollo proudly might lay Claim.
32
To the Illustrious Assembly of Ladies at Edinburgh; A POEM Humbly inscrib'd, To the Right Honourable The Ladies Directresses.
Qualis in Eurotæ ripis, aut per juga Cynthi
Exercet Diana choros; quam mille secutæ
Hine atque hinc glomerantur OREADES.—
VIRG.
Exercet Diana choros; quam mille secutæ
Hine atque hinc glomerantur OREADES.—
VIRG.
Shall Heav'n o'er Albion shed so kind a Ray,
And not one Bard salute the blissful Day?
Muses attend! Our zealous Rancour scorn,
And hail, in softest Notes, the joyful Morn!
See! how the Dawn teems with a beauteous Train
Of Angel-Forms, descending on the Plain.
In Sylvan Shapes the Nymphs divine appear,
Out-bloom the Spring, and brighten all the Year.
And not one Bard salute the blissful Day?
Muses attend! Our zealous Rancour scorn,
And hail, in softest Notes, the joyful Morn!
33
Of Angel-Forms, descending on the Plain.
In Sylvan Shapes the Nymphs divine appear,
Out-bloom the Spring, and brighten all the Year.
Their sacred Souls Celestial Vertue arms;
Awful their Beauties, and severe their Charms!
By Heav'n commission'd to instruct our Dames,
Direct their Thoughts, and regulate their Flames;
To guide the unexperienc'd Virgin o'er
Those Shelves o' Life their Virtue shun'd before;
To calm our Heats, allay seditious Jars,
And finish all our dire religious Wars.
Awful their Beauties, and severe their Charms!
By Heav'n commission'd to instruct our Dames,
Direct their Thoughts, and regulate their Flames;
To guide the unexperienc'd Virgin o'er
Those Shelves o' Life their Virtue shun'd before;
To calm our Heats, allay seditious Jars,
And finish all our dire religious Wars.
Hail, happy Day! For ever white appear,
Great Festival, and Glory of our Year!
Thrice happy Day! in which kind Heav'n takes Care
T'unite all Principles amongst the Fair!
No more shall Whig and Tory kindle Wars,
Distract our Morals, and divide our Pray'rs,
Names here on Earth to diff'rent Int'rests giv'n,
But all our Int'rests are the same in Heav'n.
Great Festival, and Glory of our Year!
Thrice happy Day! in which kind Heav'n takes Care
T'unite all Principles amongst the Fair!
No more shall Whig and Tory kindle Wars,
Distract our Morals, and divide our Pray'rs,
Names here on Earth to diff'rent Int'rests giv'n,
But all our Int'rests are the same in Heav'n.
34
Hail, Goddesses! Behold th'attending Train
Of Nymphs and Swains that grace th'enamel'd Plain!
In various Pastimes roam amidst the Shades,
Sport on the Lawns, or trip alongst the Glades.
Each Goddess here her heav'nly Gifts imparts,
And fills with gen'rous Thoughts their Virgin-hearts.
Amidst Ambrosial Repasts, in the Groves,
Refines their Tastes, and all their Souls improves:
Or where the Choirs on yonder Plains advance,
And in bright Measures grace the num'rous Dance;
A guardian Goddess still attends the Fair,
Corrects their Motions, and improves their Air,
With conscious Worth their Virgin-bosoms warms,
Exalts each Grace, and doubles all their Charms!
Of Nymphs and Swains that grace th'enamel'd Plain!
In various Pastimes roam amidst the Shades,
Sport on the Lawns, or trip alongst the Glades.
Each Goddess here her heav'nly Gifts imparts,
And fills with gen'rous Thoughts their Virgin-hearts.
Amidst Ambrosial Repasts, in the Groves,
Refines their Tastes, and all their Souls improves:
Or where the Choirs on yonder Plains advance,
And in bright Measures grace the num'rous Dance;
A guardian Goddess still attends the Fair,
Corrects their Motions, and improves their Air,
With conscious Worth their Virgin-bosoms warms,
Exalts each Grace, and doubles all their Charms!
Go on, kind Guardian-Powers, let Albion's Fair
Your Thoughts employ, and be your heav'nly Care.
As the bright Stars, in shining Rounds above,
Guided by their Intelligences, move;
Inform'd by Angel-Pow'rs, unerring roll
Round the vast Circle of the azure Pole:
Guided by you, so shall our Stars below,
(That with more bright, more heav'nly Radiance glow)
The shining Rounds of Virtue nobly run,
And greatly finish what you have begun;
By you inform'd, shall grace each Scene of Life,
The lovely Virgin, and more lovely Wife.
'Till late, with yours, their Souls shall upward fly,
The Earth abandon, to adorn the Sky.
Your Thoughts employ, and be your heav'nly Care.
As the bright Stars, in shining Rounds above,
Guided by their Intelligences, move;
Inform'd by Angel-Pow'rs, unerring roll
Round the vast Circle of the azure Pole:
35
(That with more bright, more heav'nly Radiance glow)
The shining Rounds of Virtue nobly run,
And greatly finish what you have begun;
By you inform'd, shall grace each Scene of Life,
The lovely Virgin, and more lovely Wife.
'Till late, with yours, their Souls shall upward fly,
The Earth abandon, to adorn the Sky.
39
TO The MEMORY of The Right Honourable, The late Lady Blantyre: A Pastoral.
CHLOE and LEONORA.CHLOE.
Fly, Leonora, Fly the fatal Scene,
Here brooding Woes and Horrours damp the Plain:
The Spring no more the feather'd Warblers cheer,
But boding Owls and Ravens blast the Year.
40
Whither, dear Chloe, are the Graces fled,
The Nymphs and Swains, that late adorn'd the Mead?
What means this awful Silence o'er the Groves?
Once the soft Seats, and Scenes of chastest Loves!
CHLOE.
Cease, Leonora, to renew my Smart,
To wound afresh this sad, this bleeding Heart;
Back to my Soul, see! my chill'd Spirits throng,
And fault'ring Accents tremble on my Tongue.
LEONORA.
Nay, dearest Chloe, grant my fond Request,
And pour thy Woes into my faithful Breast;
For thee my Share of sorrows I'll sustain,
And learn, tho' unacquainted, to complain.
CHLOE.
No Leonora, no; I'll weep alone,
I'll mourn for ever, my Lucinda gone!
41
Now pale and breathless stretch'd upon the Plain.
LEONORA.
Lucinda dead! Ye Gods!—or did I dream?
Or did I hear my dear Lucinda's Name?
Lucinda dead!—For ever flow my Tears,
'Till my thin Form dissolve to follow her's.
CHLOE.
Yes, Leonora, we'll indulge our Woes,
And only in our Tears we'll find Repose;
Live on our Sorrows, and ask no Relief,
But from the Rage and Luxury of Grief.
LEONORA.
But see! young Strephon, in yon lonely Grove,
Dissolves in Sighs, for his departed Love;
What Floods of Tears his youthful Face distain!
Once the Delight, and Wonder of the Plain.
42
Ah, Leanora, ah! the dismal Day!
When in the Gasps of Death Lucinda lay;
How to his Lips he press'd th'expiring Fair,
To catch the Soul as it dissolv'd in Air.
LEONORA.
Tell me, my Chloe, by our Friendship, tell
Our dear Lucinda's dying last Farewell;
How she to Strephon spoke that last Adieu,
And what her dying Lips pronounc'd to you.
CHLOE.
Yes, Leonora, I'll unfold that Scene,
'Twill rouse my Woes, and wake my languid Pain;
I'll tell Thee—First when Death approach'd her Soul,
And I beheld her swimming Eye-balls rowl;
All bath'd in Tears, and plung'd in deep Despair,
Straight to a Cypress Grove I bore the Fair;
While Nymphs around, and Swains, with piteous Cries
Fill all the Woods, and rend the echoing Skies!
Th'expiring Fair cast her dim Eyes around,
43
Adieu, ye Nymphs, she said—adieu ye Swains,
And all the soft Illusion of the Plains!
Adieu, my dearest Chloe, and to you,
My dearer Strephon, a long, long Adieu!
This Strephon heard, and furious with Despair,
Forward he rush'd, and clasp'd th'expiring Fair;
O Gods, he cry'd, Relentless and Unkind!
Is my Lucinda gone, and Strephon left behind?
No, no, Lucinda! we shall never part,
Our Spirit shall be one, as is our Heart;
Strephon shall grow for ever to thy Breast,
'Till Death unites us in eternal Rest.
At Strephon's Name once more she rais'd her Eyes,
And whispering, Farewell my Strephon—Dies.
LEONORA.
Ah Chloe! drop that dismal Scene of Death,
Or 'midst my Tears I must resign my Breath;
Round my sad Heart a deadly Horrour reigns,
And my chill'd Blood stands curdl'd in my Veins.
44
Then Leonora, I beheld the Fair
Spring upward thro' the Fields of fluid Air;
Quick I beheld the Dove-like Form arise,
As from the Fun'ral Pile, and reach the Skies.
I saw an Angel-Train, in bright Aray,
On Azure Wings descending thro' the Day;
The spotless Spirit on her Way they meet,
And the fair Form with heav'nly Anthems Greet;
At last, thro' brighter Fields of Purple Light,
They soar'd, Triumphant, from my Mortal Sight.
59
EPILOGUE TO Bellum Grammaticale.
Ladies! Perhaps, you guess'd not our Intent,
So I come hear to tell ye what we meant;
As 'twere from Beachy-head, or from La Hogue,
I have return'd to speak the Epilogue.
So I come hear to tell ye what we meant;
As 'twere from Beachy-head, or from La Hogue,
I have return'd to speak the Epilogue.
Then, to be short, we have been at the Wars,
But parted with whole Skins, we thank our Stars.
Two Monarchs fell together by the Ears,
And, Ladies, I must own, I had my Fears;
A Poet and a Lover! Who wou'd thought it,
That they, of all Mankind, shou'd e're have fought it?
But parted with whole Skins, we thank our Stars.
Two Monarchs fell together by the Ears,
And, Ladies, I must own, I had my Fears;
A Poet and a Lover! Who wou'd thought it,
That they, of all Mankind, shou'd e're have fought it?
In short, the Lovers hasten to the Field,
And Cupids, Flames, and Hearts their Banners gild.
Vollies of parched Sighs inflame the Air,
Hope led the Vanguard, and the Rear Despair.
And Cupids, Flames, and Hearts their Banners gild.
60
Hope led the Vanguard, and the Rear Despair.
Upon the other Side, the Poet-Train
Their mighty Numbers pour upon the Plain.
Squadrons of Roundeliers and Rhymers stand,
Acrostics, Anagrams, a dreadful Band!
Two general Crambo's at the Front appear,
And Quarter-Master Doggrel led the Rear.
Their Ensigns very old, but nowise nice,
All torn to Rags, embroider'd o'er with Lice.
Their mighty Numbers pour upon the Plain.
Squadrons of Roundeliers and Rhymers stand,
Acrostics, Anagrams, a dreadful Band!
Two general Crambo's at the Front appear,
And Quarter-Master Doggrel led the Rear.
Their Ensigns very old, but nowise nice,
All torn to Rags, embroider'd o'er with Lice.
But thank our Stars, just ere we drew our Swords,
(Choak'd as we were with Steams of Pannic T---s;
We found the War was but a War of Words.
Our Poet-Monarch chanc'd to be a Noun,
A Garret-gotten, hungry, lousy Lown;
Guarded with Adjectives, as void of Sense,
As, generally, the Poet is of Pence;
With Pronouns, He's and She's, and Who's and Which's,
A scoundrel Race of d---n'd pedantic B---s.
(Choak'd as we were with Steams of Pannic T---s;
We found the War was but a War of Words.
Our Poet-Monarch chanc'd to be a Noun,
A Garret-gotten, hungry, lousy Lown;
Guarded with Adjectives, as void of Sense,
As, generally, the Poet is of Pence;
With Pronouns, He's and She's, and Who's and Which's,
A scoundrel Race of d---n'd pedantic B---s.
61
Again, the Lover Prince a Verb we found,
With Hopes and Fears completely guarded round;
Attended too by numerous Collections
Of Adverbs, Prepositions, Interjections,
As, Utinam, I wish—and, Hei, alace!
That e'er I saw that dear—deceitful Face.
With Hopes and Fears completely guarded round;
Attended too by numerous Collections
Of Adverbs, Prepositions, Interjections,
As, Utinam, I wish—and, Hei, alace!
That e'er I saw that dear—deceitful Face.
But Ladies, Faith, if I stay longer here,
I'll turn upon the Lover's Side, I fear,
I see such pretty Faces all around me,
That ev'ry Glance, I'll swear, begins to wound me:
Farewel then, Ladies,—Gentlemen, Adieu,
Speak well of us, and we'll speak well of you;
Our Labour asks no other Recompence,
Commend our Wit, and we'll commend your Sense.
I'll turn upon the Lover's Side, I fear,
I see such pretty Faces all around me,
That ev'ry Glance, I'll swear, begins to wound me:
Farewel then, Ladies,—Gentlemen, Adieu,
Speak well of us, and we'll speak well of you;
Our Labour asks no other Recompence,
Commend our Wit, and we'll commend your Sense.
62
TO The Much Honoured, Sir Richard Steele, A POEM.
Qui feros cultus hominum
------ Formasti catus.
Hor.
------ Formasti catus.
Hor.
As
Phebus once, when banish'd by his Sire,
Touch'd on Emathian Plains the sounding Lyre;
The Satyrs, Nymphs, and all the Sylvan Train
Hung on each Note, and drunk the Heav'nly Strain.
Admetus wonders! And the Crowd around
Melts into Sense, and softens on the Sound:
A milder Passion thrills thro' ev'ry Vein,
And Love and Music fill th'enchanted Plain.
Touch'd on Emathian Plains the sounding Lyre;
The Satyrs, Nymphs, and all the Sylvan Train
Hung on each Note, and drunk the Heav'nly Strain.
Admetus wonders! And the Crowd around
Melts into Sense, and softens on the Sound:
A milder Passion thrills thro' ev'ry Vein,
And Love and Music fill th'enchanted Plain.
63
Just so, thy Precepts from each charming Page
Break on our Souls, and soften all our Rage.
Gods! How the sweet harmonious Pages shine!
How the Thought brightens on each labour'd Line!
Before each Line a surly Passion flies,
And a rude Thought on ev'ry Period dies.
Break on our Souls, and soften all our Rage.
Gods! How the sweet harmonious Pages shine!
How the Thought brightens on each labour'd Line!
Before each Line a surly Passion flies,
And a rude Thought on ev'ry Period dies.
Immortal Steele!
To thy dear Name, what Trophies can we raise,
How paint thy Merit in our Gothic Lays?
See! on Edina's Streets the Loving Throng
Gaze joyful as thou walk'st, and softly wish along.
Our mingled Vows the Air, in Whispers, bears,
And murmur'd Blessings gently strike thine Ears.
How paint thy Merit in our Gothic Lays?
See! on Edina's Streets the Loving Throng
Gaze joyful as thou walk'st, and softly wish along.
Our mingled Vows the Air, in Whispers, bears,
And murmur'd Blessings gently strike thine Ears.
All hail, thou gen'rous Friend! Thou hast been long
The Poets Darling, and their boasted Song.
A Northern Muse, born near the freezing Sea,
Thaws into poor, but kindly Lays, for thee.
A Northern Muse wou'd fondly borrow Fame,
Rise on thy Worth, and live upon thy Name.
But here, methinks, I see thy Genius frown,
And sullen Lowrs the Ghost of Addison.
The Poets Darling, and their boasted Song.
A Northern Muse, born near the freezing Sea,
Thaws into poor, but kindly Lays, for thee.
A Northern Muse wou'd fondly borrow Fame,
Rise on thy Worth, and live upon thy Name.
64
And sullen Lowrs the Ghost of Addison.
O Addison! But stop—The mighty Name
Rises stupendous! And looks down on Fame.
That Name, which some have vainly strove to raise
On envious Merit, and detractive Praise;
Rises stupendous! And looks down on Fame.
That Name, which some have vainly strove to raise
On envious Merit, and detractive Praise;
Mean Artifice—
High on eternal Columns, see, it stands
Rear'd by his own, and Steele's immortal Hands.
Rear'd by his own, and Steele's immortal Hands.
Adieu, Great Steele! Accept those humble Lays,
Shades of thy Worth, and Outlines of thy Praise;
If Phœbus smiles upon a Northern Swain,
Perhaps his homely Muse may 'ttempt a loftier Strain.
Shades of thy Worth, and Outlines of thy Praise;
If Phœbus smiles upon a Northern Swain,
Perhaps his homely Muse may 'ttempt a loftier Strain.
76
EPILOGUE TO A PLAY Acted at HADDINGTOUN.
[Down from the Mother of all Womankind]
Down from the Mother of all Womankind,
The old cross Rib, ex traduce, we find;
So that, you see,—but further Demonstration,
A Female is a Shrew by Generation.
The old cross Rib, ex traduce, we find;
So that, you see,—but further Demonstration,
A Female is a Shrew by Generation.
Nisa, you find, was as cross-grain'd a Lass,
As e'er that froward Virgin, old Queen Bess.
When ought misgave her, then she sat all surly,
Preluding to the Future Hurly-Burly;
Then in a Trice, a loud and sudden Rattle,
Gives the first Signal to domestick Battle.
Each Corner rings with Clamour, Brawl and Splutter,
And there poor Cully sits, and dares not mutter.
As e'er that froward Virgin, old Queen Bess.
When ought misgave her, then she sat all surly,
Preluding to the Future Hurly-Burly;
Then in a Trice, a loud and sudden Rattle,
Gives the first Signal to domestick Battle.
Each Corner rings with Clamour, Brawl and Splutter,
And there poor Cully sits, and dares not mutter.
77
Ladies, attend—and drop these dread Alarms,
Consult, if not your Ease, at least your Charms.
These Gusts of Passion sudden Wrinkles bring,
And shed swift Autumn o'er your blooming Spring;
When Maids, you may be nice,—but kind and gay,
Say no—but never think one Word you say;
Your Tongues and Eyes may wage eternal War,
Each Glance a Heav'n—And ev'ry Word—Despair!
Still may the Tongue say no—But for all this—
The kinder Eyes must speak a charming—Yes!
So, Gallants, you this Lesson just shall find,
Women, by Contradiction, may be kind.
You by our Moral see (which is not evil)
A loving Wife, made of a reigning Devil.
Consult, if not your Ease, at least your Charms.
These Gusts of Passion sudden Wrinkles bring,
And shed swift Autumn o'er your blooming Spring;
When Maids, you may be nice,—but kind and gay,
Say no—but never think one Word you say;
Your Tongues and Eyes may wage eternal War,
Each Glance a Heav'n—And ev'ry Word—Despair!
Still may the Tongue say no—But for all this—
The kinder Eyes must speak a charming—Yes!
So, Gallants, you this Lesson just shall find,
Women, by Contradiction, may be kind.
You by our Moral see (which is not evil)
A loving Wife, made of a reigning Devil.
78
TO Dr. G. D. On his Translation of a Part of Catullus.
Happy! Thrice happy is the charming Maid,
Who hath a Poet to her Toils betray'd;
Obscurely might she live, obscurely dye,
Did not the Bard to her Assistance fly:
All that survives her Urn, she owes his Flame,
Whose deathless Numbers eterniz'd her Name.
Who hath a Poet to her Toils betray'd;
Obscurely might she live, obscurely dye,
Did not the Bard to her Assistance fly:
All that survives her Urn, she owes his Flame,
Whose deathless Numbers eterniz'd her Name.
This Lesbia in her fam'd Veronian found,
Nor more by him, than our soft Bard renown'd;
By thee in softer Notes sung on our Lawns,
Bright Lesbia's Praises charm the wondring Fawns!
The Satyrs, Nymphs, and all the Sylvan Train
Trip, joyful, to thy Numbers o'er the Plain:
Forgetting Food, the Flocks in Silence gaze,
And, ravish'd, listen to thy charming Lays.
How smiles Catullus on th'Elysian Plains,
To find his Lesbia live in British Strains?
To find his Love-born Songs thus wafted o'er,
And warbl'd softer on the British Shore.
Nor more by him, than our soft Bard renown'd;
By thee in softer Notes sung on our Lawns,
79
The Satyrs, Nymphs, and all the Sylvan Train
Trip, joyful, to thy Numbers o'er the Plain:
Forgetting Food, the Flocks in Silence gaze,
And, ravish'd, listen to thy charming Lays.
How smiles Catullus on th'Elysian Plains,
To find his Lesbia live in British Strains?
To find his Love-born Songs thus wafted o'er,
And warbl'd softer on the British Shore.
Fain wou'd I pay the mighty Debt I owe,
And bind the Bays on Damon's sacred Brow;
Fain wou'd my Soul on soaring Pinions rise,
And waft his Fame, in Raptures, to the Skies:
But here the God forsakes my lab'ring Breast,
And I can only pant—and wish the rest.
And bind the Bays on Damon's sacred Brow;
Fain wou'd my Soul on soaring Pinions rise,
And waft his Fame, in Raptures, to the Skies:
But here the God forsakes my lab'ring Breast,
And I can only pant—and wish the rest.
82
EPILOGUE TO A PLAY Acted at HADDINGTOUN.
[Our Play you've seen, and have approv'd our Wit]
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Our Play you've seen, and have approv'd our Wit,
And I come here to thank the gen'rous Pit.
We've top'd our Parts, and you applaud our Rage;
And Cato shines even on our youthful Stage.
And I come here to thank the gen'rous Pit.
We've top'd our Parts, and you applaud our Rage;
And Cato shines even on our youthful Stage.
But now I must beg Leave to tell a Story,
And lay the Case, just as it was, before ye;
Only because the Scene was acted heav'ly,
Allow me to be dull, and tell it gravely.
And lay the Case, just as it was, before ye;
Only because the Scene was acted heav'ly,
Allow me to be dull, and tell it gravely.
83
In Eastern Climes, a lofty Mountain stands,
Which all the Southern Scotish Coast commands.
The highest Heap of Beach I ever saw,
Our Country Swains call it North-Berwick Law.
Hard by this Law there stands an antique Town,
Fam'd for its noble Patron's learned Gown,
For honest Sauls, for Plenty and for Peace,
But more exceedingly for Solemn Geese.
These Geese, amphibious now, we understand,
Some breed by Sea, and others breed by Land.
The Land-Geese are the queerest e'er were seen,
The other Day they muster'd on the Green:
The Gander, who appears a jolly Bird,
First wav'd his Wings, and having dropt a T---d;
He thus began—Sirs, 'tis a pleasant Day,
What would you think, if we should act a Play?
The Flock consented, and they stole our Farce,
But durst not 'ttemp our Play, so they may kiss our A---
Ladies and Gallants, under due Correction,
I've told my Tale, you'll pardon the Reflection.
Which all the Southern Scotish Coast commands.
The highest Heap of Beach I ever saw,
Our Country Swains call it North-Berwick Law.
Hard by this Law there stands an antique Town,
Fam'd for its noble Patron's learned Gown,
For honest Sauls, for Plenty and for Peace,
But more exceedingly for Solemn Geese.
These Geese, amphibious now, we understand,
Some breed by Sea, and others breed by Land.
The Land-Geese are the queerest e'er were seen,
The other Day they muster'd on the Green:
The Gander, who appears a jolly Bird,
First wav'd his Wings, and having dropt a T---d;
He thus began—Sirs, 'tis a pleasant Day,
What would you think, if we should act a Play?
The Flock consented, and they stole our Farce,
But durst not 'ttemp our Play, so they may kiss our A---
Ladies and Gallants, under due Correction,
I've told my Tale, you'll pardon the Reflection.
| A Collection of Miscellany poems and letters | |