University of Virginia Library

SONNETS, PRESENTED WITH THE FIRST IMPRESSION OF POEMS TO THESPIA.

M,DCC,LXXXI.

I. To Dr. GLASS.

Glass, who thy proper dignity of soul
Consulting, independently hast run
The race of reason; scorning the controul
Of vulgar prejudice, nor ever won
To humour fools; rejecting little arts,
Which often subjugate inferior hearts:
Having to learning, long experience join'd,
From dry antiquity's obscurer store
The brighter portion cull'd, and well refined
The mass confused with all of modern lore;
Adapting physic to the truest scale
Which human nature can! what curious tale
Shall I devise, for sending rhimes to thee?—
And yet, not sent, would my own mind be free?

II. To Mr. PITFIELD.

Pitfield, who on a length of years well-spent
Contemplative, or active, canst reflect
With secret pleasure; ever duly bent
With choicest care, and happiest, to select
Thy books, amusements, friends, a liberal plan
Hath aye been thine, a course exalting man.
Yet, the soft passion unindulged, might give
A doubt, if strains like these could touch thy ear,
Had not, (or errs the muse?) a virtue warm
Guarding thy heart, forbid it's entrance there,
Fraternal love. —Had not thy breast alive
To pity, alway felt it's influence kind,
Still true to generous friendships' nice alarm,
And with wide scope embracing all mankind.

III. To Mr. PATCH.

Amid the constant hurry of his time,
Devoted ever to the public good,
Shall I to Patch transmit the love-taught rhime?
On his retirement shall the muse intrude?
The soul of vigorous, manly sense possest,
Shall (tho resined) these light productions please?
Sprung haply from the weak, tho feeling breast?
Trifling, tho deck'd perchance with grace and ease?
Yet round the oak the pliant ivy twines,
His stately trunk not unadorn'd appears;
The lofty elm supports the tendrill'd vines,
Nor less admired his branching top he rears.
So mental intellect, however strong,
May, undebased, approve the tender song.

IV. To Mr. GIBBS.

Much-valued Gibbs! whom (tho thou didst not pay
Devotion to the muse) in early youth
The same sensations which create my lay
Haply inspired; which still approved by truth,
By virtue, nature, thy maturer breast
Adorn, where every thought humane is placed,
But in friend, husband, father, most confest.
With thy attention shall these lines be graced?
Wilt thou the paths of youth and love retread,
While their delightful scenes again appear,
Thou, and the softer partner of thy bed?
And surely never purer steps were there.
Yes, tread again their paths, their scenes review:
And from yourselves, pronounce them painted true.

V. To Mr. CODRINGTON.

O Codrington, to whom the impassion'd lyre
Was never strung in vain! whose faithful soul,
And correspondent passions take the alarm;
Whom pity melts, whom love and transport warm,
Who wishest not the ideas to controul
Which it's celestial notes can well inspire.
Whom the same amiable emotions give
(Tho doom'd ingratitude and vice to find)
Promoting every social good to live;
Who (though unmeriting) still view'st mankind
With fond affection's eye: strains such as these
From thee are sure of welcome; strains where youth
Yet uncorrupted, all it's soul displays,
And suffering love, and firm unshaken truth.

VI. To Lord Viscount COURTENAY.

Courtenay! whom e'en in these degenerate days
The Country charms; viewing with fixt delight
The varied landscape stretcht before thy sight,
And fond of rural pleasures merit'st praise!
To build, to plant, to feed the numerous race
Of poor be thine! Or in thy castled dome
Survey each filial, and maternal grace,
While courts might envy thy more tranquil home.
Let not this ruin'd nation cast a cloud
O'er the serene ideas of thy mind.
Such is the will of Heaven, when great and proud
In wild excess, all empires have declined.
The joys still thine, let not thy soul refuse.
And lo! the tribute of the grateful muse!

VII. To the DEAN of EXETER.

Mills! who with equal honour to the voice
Of those who call'd thee to the learned chair,
And of thyself, art seated by their choice,
Studious to make antiquity thy care.
Yet not it's wilds alone engross thy mind,
Thee polisht life, and thee the polisht strain
Delights; the treasure of the muse's reign,
When they in Greece or antient Rome reclined
Beneath the laurel shade, and tuned their lyre.
Simplicity was their's, who ever sings
What her heart dictates, with unlabour'd fire,
While nature smiling waves her kindred wings.
This modern lay thy candid soul shall bear,
Well-pleased to trace a faint resemblance here.

VIII. To Chancellor QUICKE.

Critics have long pronounced our rugged clime,
For the more tender notes of love, unfit;
The nervous is allow'd us, the sublime,
Humour unrivall'd, and quick-pointed wit.
Hence hath the Muse of Elegy repined,
Nor dared pursue the emotions of her mind.
Say, Quicke, if reason this opinion frame?
But while so partial I have ever found
Thy voice to me, so undisposed to blame,
Thy verdict would perhaps be deem'd unsound.
Yet, who shall judge, if not the few whose life
Hath been untainted by corruption's train?
Removed from dissipation, folly, strife,
The guilty great, and luxury's odious reign?

IX. To Archdeacon SLEECH.

Sleech, to the generous voice of friendship, true!
Nor, tho declining in the vale of age,
Coldly-neglectful of the muses' page,
These traces read; which, not in classic lore
Unversed, in early youth I fondly drew;
Nor yet in riper manhood uninspired,
While I the daughter of thy friend admired,
And as I more have known, have valued more.
Yes, to thy partial soul I will avow,
That when soft-blushing in her bridal dress,
No truer pleasure in my bosom rose,
Than what with ardour I experience now.
So much can virtue charm, and mildness bless,
So, nursed by time, sincere affection grows.

X. To JAMES WHITE, Esq.

When Luxury hath pass'd it's narrower bounds,
And salutary limits, changed we find
The character, and the collective mind
Of states, while ignorance with vice abounds.
Hence, to the distant provinces, retires
From the vile capital, insulted taste;
There real poetry ne'er lights it's fires,
Or genius fashion-tutor'd runs to waste,
Profit it's only aim, or short-lived fame.
The distant provinces, where nature still
Resides, where virtue for protection flies,
Cherish the muse; the bard there takes his quill,
And writes to judgment's unpolluted eyes;
Amid whose sons, White! she inserts thy name.

XI. To Mr. JACKSON.

Jackson! whose taste from nature's fountain springs,
Whence thy own stream of harmony proceeds;
Steering aloof, on firm and vigorous wings,
From vulgar sentiments, and vulgar deeds,
Offspring of prejudice; whose voice tho taught
By seeming critic wisdom, and around
Re-echoed by the multitude, thy thought
Warps not, despising each unhallow'd sound.
To thee these strains I send, unmoved by fear;
For by the same pure waves I too have stray'd
(Unless deceived) it's notes have pierced my ear;
While on it's banks young love with fancy stray'd,
And all those forms which charm the feeling heart,
But seen thro clouds, and wooed in vain by art.

XII. To J. B. CHOLWICH, Esq.

Thou lovest the muse; and mid her circle small
Of friends, thy soul her mutual friendship shares.
Not, Cholwich, vested in her tragic pall,
As when she bade the sympathetic tears
Start from thy melting eye; or with the torch
Of indignation, kindled in thy breast
The generous flame of warm resentful ire,
She comes. Less gorgeous now, more simply drest,
And taught by love, within his temple's porch
These notes she breathed, responsive to his lyre;
Notes to her partial votary justly dear.
Nor, form'd for ease, and sweet domestic life.
Too spirited to cringe, for public strife
Too virtuous, shall they fail to engage thy ear.

XIII. To Mr. J. SPURWAY.

Spurway, whose early virtues caught my mind,
Where Isis thro her classic region strays;
By native warmth to generous deeds inclined,
With delicacy fraught, with honour's rays
Adorn'd; a favourite of the blue-eyed maid;
To whom the muses ne'er refused their aid
Duely invoked. —Oh! since, supremely tried
In undeserved affliction's rugged ways!
Till thy benignant star propitious shined,
And mild philosophy his balm applied
Healing each wound corrosive. To thy hand
These elegiac lays I justly send,
For thou from me such tribute mightst demand,
Who know thy liberal heart, and stile thee friend.

XIV. To Mr. J. CHURCHILL.

Churchill, long fix'd my friend, whose partial eye
First saw my infant muse attempt to fly
On Latian wing; or on the plumes she gain'd
From her own native language: to the sight
How dull those plumes! Tho she essaying strain'd
Her every nerve, how low her utmost height!
Not that she here attempts to soar sublime.
Yet may it entertain thy mind, to trace
Colours more varied, with more truth display'd,
Nature, improved by judgment's happier grace,
Love, in the vest of purer taste array'd
Nor is the muse of elegy so mean
As not to claim a portion of thy time,
Nor hath thy friend debased her tender strain.

XV. To Mrs. DOWNMAN.

Dear to my heart! from whom my being came!
To whose assiduous zeal, and watchful mind,
The preservation of life's new-born flame
I owe. Who well deservest my grateful praise
For more exalted gifts; the step of youth
Guiding to moral virtue, to the ways
Of justice, mercy, honour, candour, truth.
To whom is due, (by thee at first inclined)
Whatever elevates thy son above
Earth's creeping race, the soul-enchanting fire
Of poetry, the unlimited desire
Of fame, integrity, and constant love;
Whether they mildly beam, or strongly shine,
(Taught by thy precepts) all his strains are thine.

XVI. To Archdeacon MOORE.

Is there, whom verbal knowledge may suffice
To read, but profit not by antient lore?
Studiously dull? A scholar, but unwise?
Whose judgment cannot separate the dross
From the pure ore? Of mind, and manners gross,
Illiberal, pert, o'erbearing, boastful, vain?
Such art not thou; far from thy presence, Moore,
Let pedantry retire, and fix her reign:
Her sons, and wisdom's offspring ill agree.
Thy bosom, Learning with politeness join'd
Illumes; the graces of humanity:
Converse with books, and converse with mankind;
No labouring theorist, in practice wrong,
Friend to the ingenuous arts, and chasten'd song.

XVII. To Lieutenant-Colonel SIMCOE.

Simcoe, howe'er in weak illiberal days
Merit may toil in vain, and valour bleed,
Denied by prejudiee their well-earn'd meed;
Yet, mindful of her office high of yore,
The Muse her virid garland shall prepare
And gird the intwisted foliage round their hair:
Tune with sincerest voice her notes of praise,
Bid glory open her refulgent store,
While truth and virtue sanctify her lays,
Read, and approved till time shall be no more.
Thy gallant acts, and each intrepid deed
Tis her's to adorn. Nor thou, each softer air
Refuse; the strains which she to love could yield,
While thou wert harrass'd in the strifeful field.

XVIII. To Mr. BENT.

Bent, with whom hand in hand, I trod the way
Which to Minerva's pillar'd temple led,
When boyish fancy ruled, wild, airy, gay,
E'er taste, or judgment, on my mind had shed
Their liberal gifts, e'er love itself was known.
With whom by Isis' stream, her shores along,
I roved, attentive to the muses' song,
With riper soul. Whom, when to manhood grown,
The links of union to my bosom chain'd,
Tho now intruding sickness hath restrain'd
Our pleasing intercourse; this page receive.
We walk'd with science thro' her fragrant bowers;
Now mid this garland of poetic flowers,
The branch of lasting friendship let me weave.

XIX. To Mrs. ANDREW.

With complimental, or with friendly strains,
Shall I these notes of love to others give?
And thee forget, from whom my Thespia sprung,
Haply the guardian power by which I live?
No gentle Dame, thou shalt not be unsung
By him, whose soul is formed of grateful kind.
Not for thy noble ancestry, whose stem
Is graced with royal or imperial name;
But for thy own superior qualities.
Goodness of heart, which kings and courts might shame,
Meekness, simplicity no art which tries,
Reservedness, modesty the female gem,
Conjugal love, which faithless thought disdains,
While all devolved, I in thy daughter find.

XX. To Mr. HOLE.

Hole, in whose youthful mind the seeds were sown
Of poesy, which duly taking root,
Have, (though in times base and unworthy) grown,
Flourish'd and borne no indecorous fruit.
These elegiac lays thy eyes shall scan,
Nor with fastidious glance. The tender breast
And all the soft propensities of man
Are thine. Tho most the heroic numbers charm,
By thee, my friend, is every muse carest;
Thy fancy their delightful visions warm;
Thine are the rural haunts, and solitude
Which fosters still enthusiastic thought,
Retirement which admits not folly rude,
And scenes by love and virtue ever sought.

XXI. To Mr. WOOD.

Wood, who when first my muse essay'd her flight,
And on chaste plume, thro the polluted air
Winnow'd her way; in calumny's despite,
And the vile manners of a carping age
Wert not afraid thy judgment to declare,
And praise in classic notes, my tuneful page!
This suited well the freedom of thy soul,
Which, when convinced, from truth's attractive shrine
No force can turn; despising base controul,
Soaring above a sphere, unjustly thine.
View still, unprejudiced, the tender lay!
Which, hid from the wild scenes of noise and folly,
I as a tribute, only mean to pay
To love, to purged taste, and friendship holy.

XXII. To E. DREWE, Esq.

Plumed with authority, tho malice strove
To stop thy ardour in it's bold career,
Nor saw, well-pleased, it's rancorous efforts fail;
Yet Drewe! while fame her laurels spreads above
Thy candid brow, while honour drops a tear,
While sighs of sympathy from valour steal;
While nobly-conscious on the ensanguined ground
Memory reflects; while every honest wound
And e'en thy sovereign's words, a solace prove,
Detraction quell, and falsehood's arts confound:
Unblushing mingle with the peaceful train!
Love, friendship, flourish far from crimson strife,
The polish'd virtues, the best joys of life,
The harmonious muse, and sweetly flowing strain.

XXIII. To Mrs. ILBERT.

Thine Ilbert! is the warmly-feeling heart,
Whence springs the gentle sympathising sigh,
The ingenuous blush unknown to fraudful art,
And tear which glitters in the expressive eye.
Thou wilt require no comment to the strains,
In which (yet not ungraceful) nature reigns.
Connubial happiness was likewise thine;
Ah! why did fate the bond of union tear?
More strongly round thy children therefore twine
Thy arms, and center every feeling there.
Thee conscious honour guides, pure, virtuous love;
See where each duteous son, each daughter bends!
Who to the kind maternal soul will prove
The truest confidants, the steadiest friends.

XXIV. To Mr. ANDREW.

Connubial love with mutual ardour blest,
It's beauteous progeny disporting round;
An income, which life's real comforts yields;
A decent mansion; small, but verdant fields;
Friendship; and social mirth by temperance crown'd;
True practic piety, in priests, the best;
Heart-warming gratitude, which ne'er repays
A patron's gifts with base or fawning praise;
A patron who such meanness would detest
Adding to relative, the name of friend.
Thus circumstanced, my Brother! with content,
With thankfulness for every bounty sent,
The muse to scenes like these shall often tend,
Scenes, where with joy her footstep ever strays.

XXV. To J. RICHARDS, Esq.

Still lasts this odious war; time swiftly flies;
We idly waste our treasure and our blood;
New dangers threaten; foes on foes arise:
While dissipation, like a torrent flood,
Swells o'er it's banks, and covers all the land.
How few the Wise! How small the Patriot Band!
Our boasted constitution is no more;
Corruption reigns with arbitrary sway;
Yet still our footsteps loiter as before,
And murmuring at our slavery, here we stay.
Nor thou for Switzerland preparest thy flight,
Nor have I strove America to gain;
Contented thou, in words with knaves to fight,
And I to frame the soft and tender strain.

XXVI. To Miss E. WALKER.

Accept these strains inspired by love sincere;
Strains, which thy real Friends conjointly give,
Who ever shall esteem thy welfare dear;
And with them thanks, to kindness due, receive!
For when black clouds obscured my Thespia's sight,
And envious hid the cheerful beams of Heaven;
When from each darling object well-nigh riven,
Methought I saw the dreary realms of night,
Death's meager form, the joyless house of clay;
Then didst thou strive to render grief more light,
And the perplexing burthen take away
Of every care domestic. —In thy breast
Still be the warmer sentiments carest,
Which (though unthank'd) can well themselves repay.

XXVII. To Mr. STACEY.

Stacey! with whom, while through it's channels flow'd
The purple tide of youth in swift career,
While health on every object round bestow'd
Those charms, which languid else, and blank appear;
With whom the hours by social converse gay
Urged on, have forward past with rapid flight,
Till unexpected came eve's milder ray,
And the star rose, clear harbinger of night:
While wit, and frolic humour, pun, or jest,
Tied mirth and laughter to the festive board:
With old wine crown'd, cull'd from the choicest hoard.
Though I no more perhaps may be thy guest,
Thou mine, (so inauspicious health ordains)
With hospitable smile receive my strains!

XXVIII. To Mr. D. WILLIAMS.

Williams, thou seest true poetry destroy'd,
The weak mind caught by novelties instead;
Fame, for a day, by plagiarists enjoy'd,
Who scruple not from the full veins to bleed
Our lusty antients; envy with keen eyes
Watchful by timely ridicule to cast
A blot on genius, while the town denies
(Too indolent to judge) his claim to praise:
The Muses of the Drama, shackled fast
In lucre's bonds, or by the vain self-love
Of wretched managers, forbid the bays;
While they, and shallow farce-wrights only, prove
How poor, how basely frivolous the times,
In which I print, but publish not my rhimes.

XXIX. To Mr. SYMONDS.

Irksome the employ, nor to be wisht his fate,
Who taking unfledged childhood by the hand,
Must lead with ceaseless care the mingled band
Docile or stupid, meek or obstinate,
Thro grammar's barren road to classic ground.
Care oft neglected, not consider'd right,
For seldom is the grateful pupil found.
Viewing thy toil in it's deserved light,
My old preceptor I at length repay
With the best gift I can, the Muses' lay,
By him first guided toward their prizeless store.
And let me, Symonds, thee congratulate,
Now teaching only truth's celestial lore,
And blest with a calm evening of thy day.

XXX. To Mr. S. CODRINGTON.

Thy voice is surely nature's; for thy mind
Unhackney'd in the sordid paths of men,
Must from it's genuine feelings prompt thy pen,
Which with the warmth of youth imparting praise
Haply beyond what stricter justice might,
Yet from no selfish motive traced the lays
Which, (nor would I conceal it) charm my sight,
And sweetest flattery bring, tho undesign'd.
Yes, Offspring of my Friend! these strains of thine
Unforced, and unaffected, strike my heart
With truer pleasure, than where dazzling shine
More glaring tints, the colourings of art.
These notes receive, due to taste pure and free,
To the sincere, the virtuous—due to thee.

XXXI. To J. P. TAYLOR, Esq.

Taylor, whose merits I have known, and prize!
Who fostering qualities of noble kind,
Which from the nicest sense of honour rise,
With which the graces deck the chosen mind:
Hast cherish'd youthful learning's classic store,
(Too often from the soldier's precincts chaced)
Imagination's ever-pleasing lore
Soothing each anxious thought, and liberal taste,
And virtuous love whose pure ideal train
Still shielded thee from folly light and vain!
Accept this page; and to thy Charlotte's ear
Reading the impassion'd numbers, tell the maid
My Thespia no fictitious dress array'd;
Their's sister souls, my verse, like thine, sincere.

XXXII. To Mr. BLACKALL.

Not having struck, for me, the lyre in vain,
Go Muse, where'er the powers of health reside,
Whether by fountain brim, on hill, or plain,
In forest wild, or by the roaring tide
Of the salt deep! tune each pathetic string,
Let them with sweetest energy resound!
The prayer of conjugal affection bring!
Shew all her tender progeny around,
And take from them notes which might pierce the ear
Of the grim lioness, or rugged bear,
Nay even senseless things, to pity sway!
Lead on the genial powers! and bid them shed
Nature's all-healing balm on Blackall's head;
Else, how with smiles shall he approve thy lay!