Poems and Plays by Mr. Jerningham. In Four Volumes ... The Ninth Edition |
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TO THE LATE Earl of CHESTERFIELD. |
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 | Poems and Plays |  |
184
TO THE LATE Earl of CHESTERFIELD.
Reclin'd beneath thy shade, Blackheath!
From politics and strife apart;
His temples twin'd with laurel-wreath,
And Virtue smiling at his heart:
From politics and strife apart;
His temples twin'd with laurel-wreath,
And Virtue smiling at his heart:
Will Chesterfield the Muse allow
To break upon his still retreat;
To view if health still smooths his brow,
And prints his grove with willing feet?
To break upon his still retreat;
To view if health still smooths his brow,
And prints his grove with willing feet?
'Twas this awak'd the present theme,
And bade it reach thy distant ear;
Where, if no rays of Genius beam,
Sincerity at least is there.
And bade it reach thy distant ear;
Where, if no rays of Genius beam,
Sincerity at least is there.
185
May pale Disease fly far aloof,
O'er venal domes its flag display;
And Health beneath thy peaceful roof
Add lustre to thy evening ray!
O'er venal domes its flag display;
And Health beneath thy peaceful roof
Add lustre to thy evening ray!
If this my fervent wish be crown'd,
I'll dress with flow'rs the godhead's shrine:—
Nor thou, with Wisdom's chaplet bound,
At any absent gift repine.
I'll dress with flow'rs the godhead's shrine:—
Nor thou, with Wisdom's chaplet bound,
At any absent gift repine.
What tho' thou dost not grace a throne,
While subjects bend the supple knee;
No other king the Muses own,
And Science lifts her eye to thee.
While subjects bend the supple knee;
No other king the Muses own,
And Science lifts her eye to thee.
Tho' Deafness, by a doom severe,
Steals from thy ear the murm'ring rill,
Or Philomel's delightful air;
E'en deem not this a partial ill.
Steals from thy ear the murm'ring rill,
Or Philomel's delightful air;
E'en deem not this a partial ill.
186
Ah! if anew thine ear was strung,
Awake to ev'ry voice around;
Thy praises, by the many sung,
Would stun thee with the choral sound.
Awake to ev'ry voice around;
Thy praises, by the many sung,
Would stun thee with the choral sound.
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