 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
53
The Campaign of Valencia.
‘Oh! let me speak it with a Roman spirit!
‘We were receiv'd, like undone prodigals
‘By curs'd ingrateful stewards, with cold looks,
‘Who still got all by those poor wretches ruin:
‘Like malefactors at the hands of justice.
‘If thus receiv'd! How paid our long arrears?
‘Why—as entrusted misers pay the rights
‘Of helpless orphans, or the widow's tears.
‘O soldier! for to thee, to thee, I speak it,
‘Bawds for the drudgery of citizens wives
‘Would better pay debilitated stallions.’
‘We were receiv'd, like undone prodigals
‘By curs'd ingrateful stewards, with cold looks,
‘Who still got all by those poor wretches ruin:
‘Like malefactors at the hands of justice.
‘If thus receiv'd! How paid our long arrears?
‘Why—as entrusted misers pay the rights
‘Of helpless orphans, or the widow's tears.
‘O soldier! for to thee, to thee, I speak it,
‘Bawds for the drudgery of citizens wives
‘Would better pay debilitated stallions.’
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The Campaign of Valencia.
To vindicate an injur'd patriot's name,
And from the blast of envy guard his fame;
For this each honest muse should prune her wing,
And teach our bards heroic worth to sing:
Nor longer prostitute their venal lines
To varnish o'er a Sylla's dark designs;
To flatter statesmen in their fulsome lays,
Like Gazetteers their wond'rous conduct praise,
Make war's dire conflicts cease at their command,
And peaceful olives grace each happy land.
And from the blast of envy guard his fame;
For this each honest muse should prune her wing,
And teach our bards heroic worth to sing:
Nor longer prostitute their venal lines
To varnish o'er a Sylla's dark designs;
To flatter statesmen in their fulsome lays,
Like Gazetteers their wond'rous conduct praise,
Make war's dire conflicts cease at their command,
And peaceful olives grace each happy land.
Far from such sordid arts the muses strive
To make a British hero's fame survive,
Great Peterborough's glory to recite,
To set his merit in a blaze of light,
Too long conceal'd in thickest clouds of night.
Here fiction need not seek for fancy's aid,
Nor call with rapture on Pierian maid;
In truth's plain dress great actions brightest shine,
Nor borrow lustre from an artful line.
To make a British hero's fame survive,
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To set his merit in a blaze of light,
Too long conceal'd in thickest clouds of night.
Here fiction need not seek for fancy's aid,
Nor call with rapture on Pierian maid;
In truth's plain dress great actions brightest shine,
Nor borrow lustre from an artful line.
When France aspiring to extend her sway,
And make the vassal world her laws obey,
Projected schemes, in an ill-omen'd hour,
To gain her monarch universal pow'r;
To fix the crown of Spain on Lewis' head,
And make all Europe his ambition dread:
(Designs, like these, the Bourbon race inspire,
And monarchy becomes their sole desire.)
The love of pleasure and inglorious ease,
The court of Venus could no longer please;
Bellona's rage their ardent thoughts employ,
And make their bosoms glow with horrid joy.
Now swift-wing'd Fame, attended by Report,
Declar'd their schemes to the Iberian court.
Struck with amazement at the fatal news,
Charles trembled at their vast unbounded views;
Revolv'd within his mind the dire event,
And to the camp disclos'd their bold intent.
Thro' all his realms a panic fear was spread;
And horror smil'd to see the nation's dread.
And make the vassal world her laws obey,
Projected schemes, in an ill-omen'd hour,
To gain her monarch universal pow'r;
To fix the crown of Spain on Lewis' head,
And make all Europe his ambition dread:
(Designs, like these, the Bourbon race inspire,
And monarchy becomes their sole desire.)
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The court of Venus could no longer please;
Bellona's rage their ardent thoughts employ,
And make their bosoms glow with horrid joy.
Now swift-wing'd Fame, attended by Report,
Declar'd their schemes to the Iberian court.
Struck with amazement at the fatal news,
Charles trembled at their vast unbounded views;
Revolv'd within his mind the dire event,
And to the camp disclos'd their bold intent.
Thro' all his realms a panic fear was spread;
And horror smil'd to see the nation's dread.
Now Charles in solemn council held debate
Against the pride of France to guard the state.
Each, with a noble thirst of glory fir'd,
To have the conduct of the war requir'd;
Their naked breasts expos'd to public sight,
Show'd the rough scars receiv'd in open fight:
Till thus he spoke, ‘Let emulation cease,
‘And reason each aspiring thought appease!
‘You seem to thirst for glory, not for blood,
‘Preferring honours to your country's good:
‘Have you forgotten Peterborough's care,
‘His conduct in the Barcelona war?
‘By what nice stratagem the fort was won,
‘When such superior force possess'd the town!
‘Ingratitude would brand the crown of Spain,
‘Did not he lead our army to the plain:
‘France has already felt his dire alarms,
‘Sure vengeance follows his destructive arms,
‘Death, rage, and slaughter wait on his command,
‘And crouch for fell employment from his hand.’
Against the pride of France to guard the state.
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To have the conduct of the war requir'd;
Their naked breasts expos'd to public sight,
Show'd the rough scars receiv'd in open fight:
Till thus he spoke, ‘Let emulation cease,
‘And reason each aspiring thought appease!
‘You seem to thirst for glory, not for blood,
‘Preferring honours to your country's good:
‘Have you forgotten Peterborough's care,
‘His conduct in the Barcelona war?
‘By what nice stratagem the fort was won,
‘When such superior force possess'd the town!
‘Ingratitude would brand the crown of Spain,
‘Did not he lead our army to the plain:
‘France has already felt his dire alarms,
‘Sure vengeance follows his destructive arms,
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‘And crouch for fell employment from his hand.’
Each Spaniard, conscious of superior worth,
Declin'd the leading of their army forth,
To Peterborough's care the task resign'd,
To crush ambition by the Gods design'd.
Their choice confirm'd, ambassadors were sent
To Mordaunt, to reveal the King's intent,
‘That the late armies whom he thought subdu'd,
‘And with unweary'd diligence pursu'd,
‘Rally'd their scatter'd forces in the flight,
‘And burn'd impatient for a second fight.’
Encamp'd before Mattheo's walls, the foe
Threaten'd to lay her haughty turrets low;
To vanquish'd slaves no quarter to afford,
But give them up to the destructive sword.
Great Peterborough's soul was mov'd with grief,
And vow'd with utmost speed to bring relief;
Already touch'd with pity seem'd to hear
The orphan's cry, and mourn each widow's tear.
Declin'd the leading of their army forth,
To Peterborough's care the task resign'd,
To crush ambition by the Gods design'd.
Their choice confirm'd, ambassadors were sent
To Mordaunt, to reveal the King's intent,
‘That the late armies whom he thought subdu'd,
‘And with unweary'd diligence pursu'd,
‘Rally'd their scatter'd forces in the flight,
‘And burn'd impatient for a second fight.’
Encamp'd before Mattheo's walls, the foe
Threaten'd to lay her haughty turrets low;
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But give them up to the destructive sword.
Great Peterborough's soul was mov'd with grief,
And vow'd with utmost speed to bring relief;
Already touch'd with pity seem'd to hear
The orphan's cry, and mourn each widow's tear.
No thirst of fond ambition to be great,
To swell in pomp, and shine a wretch in state,
Rous'd him to arms, or drew him to the field:
But to make each invasive tyrant yield;
To save the weak from the oppressor's force,
And let impartial justice take her course.
When generous motives such a hero move,
The welfare of mankind his actions prove;
Contending nations join in his applause,
Whose glorious deeds support the common cause.
To swell in pomp, and shine a wretch in state,
Rous'd him to arms, or drew him to the field:
But to make each invasive tyrant yield;
To save the weak from the oppressor's force,
And let impartial justice take her course.
When generous motives such a hero move,
The welfare of mankind his actions prove;
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Whose glorious deeds support the common cause.
When dangers threaten, and impending fate
Charg'd with destruction, hovers o'er a state,
'Tis then the godlike qualities, that form
A hero, struggle with the rising storm:
In peace a N---s rides in Neptune' car,
But Vernon guides the thunder of the war.
Charg'd with destruction, hovers o'er a state,
'Tis then the godlike qualities, that form
A hero, struggle with the rising storm:
In peace a N---s rides in Neptune' car,
But Vernon guides the thunder of the war.
Thus when rebellion rear'd her impious head,
The sport of France and Rome, the nation's dread,
Our Generals abash'd, no longer stood
Before these sons of rapine bath'd in blood;
Till the brave genius of our isle arose
To check the rapid progress of our foes;
To drive these upstart warriors from the land,
Who fled before the youth's victorious hand:
But, when they breathe again their native air,
Their drooping hopes revive from dark despair;
Their scatter'd forces, near the banks of Spey,
Resolve to stand the fortune of the day,
Where mighty Cumberland, ordain'd by fate
To scourge rebellion, and preserve the state,
Swift thro' their thickest ranks like lightning flew,
And vanquish'd with his arms the rebel crew.
The sport of France and Rome, the nation's dread,
Our Generals abash'd, no longer stood
Before these sons of rapine bath'd in blood;
Till the brave genius of our isle arose
To check the rapid progress of our foes;
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Who fled before the youth's victorious hand:
But, when they breathe again their native air,
Their drooping hopes revive from dark despair;
Their scatter'd forces, near the banks of Spey,
Resolve to stand the fortune of the day,
Where mighty Cumberland, ordain'd by fate
To scourge rebellion, and preserve the state,
Swift thro' their thickest ranks like lightning flew,
And vanquish'd with his arms the rebel crew.
Thus England, rescu'd from the foulest shame
That ever tainted her victorious name,
With loud repeated shouts resounds his praise,
Whose valour could her sinking glory raise;
Applauding senates show their just regard,
And with rich gifts his blooming worth reward.
That ever tainted her victorious name,
With loud repeated shouts resounds his praise,
Whose valour could her sinking glory raise;
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And with rich gifts his blooming worth reward.
What anxious cares revolve within his breast
To raise the weak, and succour the distress'd?
His firm associates pensive round him wait
To hold on liberty's dear cause debate.
When thus great Peterborough silence broke,
‘Iberia shudders at the Gallic yoke,
‘Before Matthéo's walls aspiring France
‘With fresh recruited troops their arms advance;
‘And should that town surrender (dreadful thought)
‘Or by their swords be to submission brought,
‘How would that conquest further their design,
‘And cloud the glory of the Austrian line?
‘As floods, let loose from their determin'd bound,
‘With deluges the fertile fields surround;
‘So would their forces, rushing o'er the plain,
‘Extend their conquest thro' the realms of Spain.
‘By force, our army never can oppose
‘The pow'rs that strengthen our united foes;
‘Their crouded legions cover all the strand,
‘And strike a sudden terror o'er the land:
‘Affrighted nations dread extended sway,
‘For fear their kingdoms should become a prey.
‘To stop the torrent of this rapid flood,
‘E'en envy would confess a public good:
‘What then remains, but stratagems to try,
‘And not upon our army's strength rely?
‘Matthéo's walls with dismal cries abound,
‘And fell despair reverberates the sound;
‘Bereft of hope, their gates expanded wide
‘Will yield a passage to the hostile tide,
‘Unless our couriers can the town persuade
‘To wait in firm expectance of our aid.’
Assembled warriors his designs approve,
And bless the counsel of the man they love.
To raise the weak, and succour the distress'd?
His firm associates pensive round him wait
To hold on liberty's dear cause debate.
When thus great Peterborough silence broke,
‘Iberia shudders at the Gallic yoke,
‘Before Matthéo's walls aspiring France
‘With fresh recruited troops their arms advance;
‘And should that town surrender (dreadful thought)
‘Or by their swords be to submission brought,
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‘And cloud the glory of the Austrian line?
‘As floods, let loose from their determin'd bound,
‘With deluges the fertile fields surround;
‘So would their forces, rushing o'er the plain,
‘Extend their conquest thro' the realms of Spain.
‘By force, our army never can oppose
‘The pow'rs that strengthen our united foes;
‘Their crouded legions cover all the strand,
‘And strike a sudden terror o'er the land:
‘Affrighted nations dread extended sway,
‘For fear their kingdoms should become a prey.
‘To stop the torrent of this rapid flood,
‘E'en envy would confess a public good:
‘What then remains, but stratagems to try,
‘And not upon our army's strength rely?
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‘And fell despair reverberates the sound;
‘Bereft of hope, their gates expanded wide
‘Will yield a passage to the hostile tide,
‘Unless our couriers can the town persuade
‘To wait in firm expectance of our aid.’
Assembled warriors his designs approve,
And bless the counsel of the man they love.
Now couriers, swift in speed as rapid fire,
With chearful hopes their fainting souls inspire,
Who spread among their troops a false report,
That to his standard strong allies resort,
And the next dawn of morning would disclose
Numbers superior to his vaunting foes.
With chearful hopes their fainting souls inspire,
Who spread among their troops a false report,
That to his standard strong allies resort,
And the next dawn of morning would disclose
Numbers superior to his vaunting foes.
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Soon as the sun, from his meridian height
Declining, left his empire to the night,
Our army marches on with silent pace
Thro' sable darkness to the destin'd place:
Within Traguera's walls his forces lay,
Big with expectance of approaching day.
Declining, left his empire to the night,
Our army marches on with silent pace
Thro' sable darkness to the destin'd place:
Within Traguera's walls his forces lay,
Big with expectance of approaching day.
Great Peterborough scorn'd inglorious rest,
While bold invaders all the land infest;
The dire event of war His mind employs,
Averse to pleasure and its fleeting joys.
The hardy soldiers, spent with rugged toil,
In golden dreams enjoy the wish'd-for spoil.
While bold invaders all the land infest;
The dire event of war His mind employs,
Averse to pleasure and its fleeting joys.
The hardy soldiers, spent with rugged toil,
In golden dreams enjoy the wish'd-for spoil.
Soon as the morn in purple dawn arose,
Each warrior started from his soft repose;
His valiant troops, in martial pomp array'd,
Their ensigns to the adverse host display'd.
With horror struck, They scarce believe their eyes,
Unmanly fears in every breast arise;
And thus the Gallic Chief his troops bespoke:
‘How shall we ward this unexpected stroke?
‘Curse on the Spanish monarch's shrewd design
‘To chuse a hero from the British line,
‘Whose conduct artful stratagems can frame,
‘And with determin'd sword observance claim!
‘Should we, like the rebellious sons of Jove,
‘(Who rose in arms against the pow'rs above)
‘Presume the thunder of the foe to stand,
‘While under Peterborough's brave command?
‘What fortune could the boldest think to share,
‘But death, destruction, horror, or despair?
‘Then let us fly from this impending blow,
‘Nor glut with slaughter the devouring foe!’
Confed'rate hosts approve his fears, and fly
Swift as Jove's lightning darting thro' the sky;
Fear gave them wings: by cowardice betray'd,
They seek in distant regions further aid.
Each warrior started from his soft repose;
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Their ensigns to the adverse host display'd.
With horror struck, They scarce believe their eyes,
Unmanly fears in every breast arise;
And thus the Gallic Chief his troops bespoke:
‘How shall we ward this unexpected stroke?
‘Curse on the Spanish monarch's shrewd design
‘To chuse a hero from the British line,
‘Whose conduct artful stratagems can frame,
‘And with determin'd sword observance claim!
‘Should we, like the rebellious sons of Jove,
‘(Who rose in arms against the pow'rs above)
‘Presume the thunder of the foe to stand,
‘While under Peterborough's brave command?
‘What fortune could the boldest think to share,
‘But death, destruction, horror, or despair?
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‘Nor glut with slaughter the devouring foe!’
Confed'rate hosts approve his fears, and fly
Swift as Jove's lightning darting thro' the sky;
Fear gave them wings: by cowardice betray'd,
They seek in distant regions further aid.
Great Peterborough's soul disdain'd to own
An easy conquest without slaughter won.
His murm'ring soldiers curse their dastard host,
To have the glory of the battle lost.
Matthéo's walls with thund'ring cannons roar;
No sad complaints their wretched state deplore;
Exulting joy sits smiling in each face,
Despair and meagre famine fly the place;
Congratulating crouds the victor meet,
And prostrate fall before the hero's feet;
Their eyes, o'erflowing with a generous tear,
The guardian of their liberties revere.
An easy conquest without slaughter won.
His murm'ring soldiers curse their dastard host,
To have the glory of the battle lost.
Matthéo's walls with thund'ring cannons roar;
No sad complaints their wretched state deplore;
Exulting joy sits smiling in each face,
Despair and meagre famine fly the place;
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And prostrate fall before the hero's feet;
Their eyes, o'erflowing with a generous tear,
The guardian of their liberties revere.
While joyful acclamations rend the skies,
And Spain on Peterborough's care relies,
Advice arrives, that other cities dread
The common foe, and wish him at their head;
That Anjou's forces laid the country waste,
Their churches raz'd, and images defac'd;
Whose oath decreed the Bourbon line should reign,
And Charles in exile mourn his conquer'd Spain;
That a dark gloom of horror seizes all,
And France's slaughter'd sons for vengeance call;
That Catalonia saw their troops from far,
And trembled at the distant din of war.
And Spain on Peterborough's care relies,
Advice arrives, that other cities dread
The common foe, and wish him at their head;
That Anjou's forces laid the country waste,
Their churches raz'd, and images defac'd;
Whose oath decreed the Bourbon line should reign,
And Charles in exile mourn his conquer'd Spain;
That a dark gloom of horror seizes all,
And France's slaughter'd sons for vengeance call;
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And trembled at the distant din of war.
So when our English fleet has plow'd the main,
The product of some foreign clime to gain,
With riches fraught, in sight of harbour sails,
Their canvas wings distent with happy gales;
The billows roar, and sudden storms arise;
Thick clouds of darkness spread before their eyes;
They view, with longing hopes, the neighb'ring strand,
And fear a shipwreck in the sight of land.
Great Peterborough's soul by danger try'd,
Not on his numbers, but his cause rely'd;
Summon'd a council, and with steady thought,
What conduct should be follow'd, wisely sought.
The product of some foreign clime to gain,
With riches fraught, in sight of harbour sails,
Their canvas wings distent with happy gales;
The billows roar, and sudden storms arise;
Thick clouds of darkness spread before their eyes;
They view, with longing hopes, the neighb'ring strand,
And fear a shipwreck in the sight of land.
Great Peterborough's soul by danger try'd,
Not on his numbers, but his cause rely'd;
Summon'd a council, and with steady thought,
What conduct should be follow'd, wisely sought.
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Some in debate with earnest zeal declare
Valencia, for the bloody scene of war;
While others Catalonia's fate deplore,
Which conquest would increase their growing pow'r.
Thus various sentiments their hearts divide,
But Peterborough's thoughts their actions guide:
When thus the hero spoke, ‘Your monarch's life
‘Demands our presence, and concludes the strife;
‘If my resolve determine the debate,
‘We should assist the Catalonian state:
‘Report confirms, that, by the close of night,
‘To Nules the vanquish'd urg'd their rapid flight,
‘Which disaffected town receives those slaves,
‘And Gallic troops from English fury saves;
‘Scorns to be subject to your Austrian liege,
‘Well fortify'd to stand a vigorous siege:
‘Should our strong engines, like Jove's thunder, make
‘Their turrets from their firm foundations shake,
‘Numbers superior to our troops remain
‘To stand an open battle on the plain:
‘Yet Nules we must with violence assail,
‘And lay their turrets equal with the vale.
‘Perhaps these sons of war, with swift-wing'd flight
‘Who shunn'd the danger of a glorious fight,
‘Curs'd from their birth with an aspiring mind,
‘By nature slaves to tyranny design'd!
‘Who bear war's rugged discipline and toil,
‘Not for the hopes of liberty,—but spoil;
‘When they behold our troops in just array
‘Against the walls intrepid urge their way,
‘Life blasted with contempt may sooner chuse,
‘Than dare to prosecute ambition's views.’
Tho' some the rashness of his counsel blame,
Yet more with shouts their loud assent proclaim;
Nor did his bold conjectures prove in vain.
Soon as his army glitter'd on the plain,
Their dastard forces left the trembling town,
And all alliances with Nules disown.
But what did this avail? Their strengthen'd tow'rs
Could stand secure against united pow'rs.
What then remains? With long fatigues o'ercome,
His soldiers, wishing for their native home,
In moving terms with earnest zeal implore,
To view with longing eyes the British shore.
Firm to his purpose, Peterborough thought,
That conquest with his blood was cheaply bought;
Collected in himself, resolv'd alone
By a bold stratagem to gain the town;
Then to their gates like war's intrepid God,
Secure of fate, in martial pomp he rode.
Valencia, for the bloody scene of war;
While others Catalonia's fate deplore,
Which conquest would increase their growing pow'r.
Thus various sentiments their hearts divide,
But Peterborough's thoughts their actions guide:
When thus the hero spoke, ‘Your monarch's life
‘Demands our presence, and concludes the strife;
‘If my resolve determine the debate,
‘We should assist the Catalonian state:
‘Report confirms, that, by the close of night,
‘To Nules the vanquish'd urg'd their rapid flight,
‘Which disaffected town receives those slaves,
‘And Gallic troops from English fury saves;
‘Scorns to be subject to your Austrian liege,
‘Well fortify'd to stand a vigorous siege:
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‘Their turrets from their firm foundations shake,
‘Numbers superior to our troops remain
‘To stand an open battle on the plain:
‘Yet Nules we must with violence assail,
‘And lay their turrets equal with the vale.
‘Perhaps these sons of war, with swift-wing'd flight
‘Who shunn'd the danger of a glorious fight,
‘Curs'd from their birth with an aspiring mind,
‘By nature slaves to tyranny design'd!
‘Who bear war's rugged discipline and toil,
‘Not for the hopes of liberty,—but spoil;
‘When they behold our troops in just array
‘Against the walls intrepid urge their way,
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‘Than dare to prosecute ambition's views.’
Tho' some the rashness of his counsel blame,
Yet more with shouts their loud assent proclaim;
Nor did his bold conjectures prove in vain.
Soon as his army glitter'd on the plain,
Their dastard forces left the trembling town,
And all alliances with Nules disown.
But what did this avail? Their strengthen'd tow'rs
Could stand secure against united pow'rs.
What then remains? With long fatigues o'ercome,
His soldiers, wishing for their native home,
In moving terms with earnest zeal implore,
To view with longing eyes the British shore.
Firm to his purpose, Peterborough thought,
That conquest with his blood was cheaply bought;
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By a bold stratagem to gain the town;
Then to their gates like war's intrepid God,
Secure of fate, in martial pomp he rode.
The foe, astonish'd at the bold design,
Shudder'd with fear, nor dar'd to pass the line:
When thus the godlike hero silence broke,
And to their frighten'd host in thunder spoke:
‘Inhabitants of this defenceless town,
‘Who build your safety on a false renown,
‘Let not my troops for an admission wait:
‘Within six minutes ope the city gate!
‘Else, at the dreadful period of that time,
‘Destructive vengeance shall o'ertake your crime.
Shudder'd with fear, nor dar'd to pass the line:
When thus the godlike hero silence broke,
And to their frighten'd host in thunder spoke:
‘Inhabitants of this defenceless town,
‘Who build your safety on a false renown,
‘Let not my troops for an admission wait:
‘Within six minutes ope the city gate!
‘Else, at the dreadful period of that time,
‘Destructive vengeance shall o'ertake your crime.
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Selected priests unfold the dismal tale,
And sudden fears o'er reason's pow'r prevail;
Alternate passions in their bosoms rise,
And floods of tears run gushing from their eyes:
When thus their chief determin'd, ‘'Tis too late
‘To check his conquests, or support our state;
‘Then swift as thought the tenfold barrier burst,
‘And let us to the victor's mercy trust.’
And sudden fears o'er reason's pow'r prevail;
Alternate passions in their bosoms rise,
And floods of tears run gushing from their eyes:
When thus their chief determin'd, ‘'Tis too late
‘To check his conquests, or support our state;
‘Then swift as thought the tenfold barrier burst,
‘And let us to the victor's mercy trust.’
Now all their gates expanded wide behold,
As if their magistrates the city sold.
In awful pomp their pensive forces stand,
And beg him not to sacrifice the land,
Like vanquish'd senators of ancient Rome,
When the proud victor spoke their fatal doom.
As if their magistrates the city sold.
In awful pomp their pensive forces stand,
And beg him not to sacrifice the land,
Like vanquish'd senators of ancient Rome,
When the proud victor spoke their fatal doom.
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Touch'd with compassion at the moving sight,
He rais'd the suppliant, did the orphan right;
To brutal lust no virgin fell a prey,
No soldiers plunder'd with a tyrant's sway;
But all their hero's bright example take,
And the sad captives joyful subjects make.
He rais'd the suppliant, did the orphan right;
To brutal lust no virgin fell a prey,
No soldiers plunder'd with a tyrant's sway;
But all their hero's bright example take,
And the sad captives joyful subjects make.
How with so weak an army to maintain
The conquests, which his stratagems obtain,
Requir'd e'en Peterborough's utmost care
To prove successful in a future war.
By his command such false reports were spread,
That thousands were pursuing those that fled:
Thus by his conduct, and intrepid law,
Almost alone he kept the world in awe.
The conquests, which his stratagems obtain,
Requir'd e'en Peterborough's utmost care
To prove successful in a future war.
By his command such false reports were spread,
That thousands were pursuing those that fled:
Thus by his conduct, and intrepid law,
Almost alone he kept the world in awe.
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But now reflecting in his anxious mind,
How many various toils remain behind;
His harrass'd troops with labour worn away,
Without supplies, his cavalry's decay:
Necessities like these demand relief,
And break the slumbers of our anxious chief.
How many various toils remain behind;
His harrass'd troops with labour worn away,
Without supplies, his cavalry's decay:
Necessities like these demand relief,
And break the slumbers of our anxious chief.
Yet, by his happy conduct in a town,
Which scarcely did the victor's triumph own,
He form'd a cavalry, then march'd away,
To meet some forces which at distance lay.
His officers on Oropesa's plain
Had long expected his return in vain,
When from afar their longing eyes behold
Their much-lov'd hero clad in burnish'd gold;
Reviving hopes their drooping spirits warm,
And distant dangers have the pow'r to charm:
As he approach'd, they ran with eager pace
To clasp their general in a close embrace;
With joy reciprocal their bosoms beat;
For absence makes the pleasure more compleat.
Which scarcely did the victor's triumph own,
He form'd a cavalry, then march'd away,
To meet some forces which at distance lay.
His officers on Oropesa's plain
Had long expected his return in vain,
When from afar their longing eyes behold
Their much-lov'd hero clad in burnish'd gold;
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And distant dangers have the pow'r to charm:
As he approach'd, they ran with eager pace
To clasp their general in a close embrace;
With joy reciprocal their bosoms beat;
For absence makes the pleasure more compleat.
But now severer thoughts the chief engage
To guard Valencia from their hostile rage:
Saguntum's walls his destin'd march oppose,
The strongest bulwark of his vanquish'd foes;
Before its feet the foaming surges roar,
And Neptune with his trident guards the shore,
With mountains on each side encompass'd round,
Which fortify the city like a mound:
These must be pass'd, and with incessant pain
The soldiers strive the steep ascent to gain.
One stratagem remains to speed his course,
Which may supply the want of hostile force.
To guard Valencia from their hostile rage:
Saguntum's walls his destin'd march oppose,
The strongest bulwark of his vanquish'd foes;
Before its feet the foaming surges roar,
And Neptune with his trident guards the shore,
With mountains on each side encompass'd round,
Which fortify the city like a mound:
78
The soldiers strive the steep ascent to gain.
One stratagem remains to speed his course,
Which may supply the want of hostile force.
The swiftest couriers by command were sent
To seek Mahoni at his royal tent,
To whisper in his ear, the victor thought
That peace might flourish without battles fought,
If both should on parole of honour meet,
And of the public welfare fairly treat.
To seek Mahoni at his royal tent,
To whisper in his ear, the victor thought
That peace might flourish without battles fought,
If both should on parole of honour meet,
And of the public welfare fairly treat.
The terms accepted, at the place assign'd
They meet, by sacred laws of nations join'd:
When thus great Peterborough spoke, ‘No more
‘Let slaughter bathe her hands in human gore!
‘But let us chuse some gentler means to save
‘Our hardy legions from the dreary grave!
‘We come not to plunge nations in despair,
‘But, like a storm, to purge infected air.
‘Should you resist, and in a bold design
‘Think your troops able to encounter mine,
‘No laws of friendship could preserve the town;
‘Your rashness makes the bloody deed your own.
‘Have you forgotten, when your army fought
‘With some success, and conquest dearly bought?
‘With what a waste of death they strow'd the plain,
‘While cruelty drove on with loosen'd rein:
‘Then yield a passage! lest your soldiers feel
‘The bloody wounds of our avenging steel.’
They meet, by sacred laws of nations join'd:
When thus great Peterborough spoke, ‘No more
‘Let slaughter bathe her hands in human gore!
79
‘Our hardy legions from the dreary grave!
‘We come not to plunge nations in despair,
‘But, like a storm, to purge infected air.
‘Should you resist, and in a bold design
‘Think your troops able to encounter mine,
‘No laws of friendship could preserve the town;
‘Your rashness makes the bloody deed your own.
‘Have you forgotten, when your army fought
‘With some success, and conquest dearly bought?
‘With what a waste of death they strow'd the plain,
‘While cruelty drove on with loosen'd rein:
‘Then yield a passage! lest your soldiers feel
‘The bloody wounds of our avenging steel.’
80
When thus Mahoni spoke, ‘Illustrious peer!
‘'Tis not in menaces to make us fear:
‘We own thy great exploits, and, tho' our stars
‘Have doom'd us not confed'rates in the wars,
‘Still, by a sympathy of souls divine,
‘My reason must applaud thy great design,
‘To strive to make contending nations cease,
‘And fix mankind in honourable peace:
‘But what would the malicious world report?
‘My name must stand the censure of a court,
‘Where servile slaves in mean dependance wait
‘To blast the rising merit of the great:
‘But let impartial justice hold the scale,
‘Should I resist, your forces must prevail;
‘When night has to her sable noon arose,
‘Your pow'rs may pass, nor shall my troops oppose.
‘Thus prudence bids me sacrifice my fame,
‘And for my country's service suffer shame.’
‘'Tis not in menaces to make us fear:
‘We own thy great exploits, and, tho' our stars
‘Have doom'd us not confed'rates in the wars,
‘Still, by a sympathy of souls divine,
‘My reason must applaud thy great design,
‘To strive to make contending nations cease,
‘And fix mankind in honourable peace:
‘But what would the malicious world report?
‘My name must stand the censure of a court,
‘Where servile slaves in mean dependance wait
‘To blast the rising merit of the great:
‘But let impartial justice hold the scale,
‘Should I resist, your forces must prevail;
‘When night has to her sable noon arose,
‘Your pow'rs may pass, nor shall my troops oppose.
81
‘And for my country's service suffer shame.’
Thus, by the nicer conduct of the brain,
He gain'd a passage to Valencia's plain.
What ardent transports in their bosoms glow'd,
When they beheld from far their guardian God?
Joyful as angels when by fiends dismay'd
The great Messiah thunder'd to their aid.
E'en stern ecclesiasticks laid aside
(To welcome him) their ruling passion, pride;
Gaz'd on his form, in admiration lost,
And strove with zeal who should applaud him most.
He gain'd a passage to Valencia's plain.
What ardent transports in their bosoms glow'd,
When they beheld from far their guardian God?
Joyful as angels when by fiends dismay'd
The great Messiah thunder'd to their aid.
E'en stern ecclesiasticks laid aside
(To welcome him) their ruling passion, pride;
Gaz'd on his form, in admiration lost,
And strove with zeal who should applaud him most.
Thus by his conduct, and incessant toil,
He reap'd the victory without the spoil:
The house of Austria seated on a
throne
By conquests, which a British subject won.
Great is his glory, greater England's shame,
To blast with censure that illustrious name.
While crouds revile (mean refuse of a court)
The guardian of their laws, their chief support:
When merit finds from princes no regard,
'Tis then that virtue is its own reward.
He reap'd the victory without the spoil:
82
By conquests, which a British subject won.
Great is his glory, greater England's shame,
To blast with censure that illustrious name.
While crouds revile (mean refuse of a court)
The guardian of their laws, their chief support:
When merit finds from princes no regard,
'Tis then that virtue is its own reward.
May some auspicious bard arise to save
Those great exploits from time's eternal grave!
When Barcelona rung with loud alarms,
And felt the force of his victorious arms;
A city deem'd impregnable by all
Till the astonish'd world beheld her fall.
But pining envy, sick to hear his praise,
Strove by false tales to blast his spreading bays.
Still by mean arts each action was defam'd,
His merit lessen'd, and his conduct blam'd.
Those great exploits from time's eternal grave!
When Barcelona rung with loud alarms,
And felt the force of his victorious arms;
A city deem'd impregnable by all
Till the astonish'd world beheld her fall.
83
Strove by false tales to blast his spreading bays.
Still by mean arts each action was defam'd,
His merit lessen'd, and his conduct blam'd.
But should all poetry with Pope expire,
And none presume to touch the sacred lyre,
These servile times no glorious deeds produce,
Worthy the fame of an immortal muse:
Ambassadors are sent, and treaties made,
Arm'd squadrons fitted out, and pensions paid;
Pacific armies bluster thro' the land,
And admirals,—to keep the peace,—command;
Tho' nations hale us Neptune of the sea,
Yet Spain like Æolus usurps the sway.
But such the spirit of the laureat's odes,
His glowing lines can make mere mortals Gods:
Sound thro' the world Britannia's high renown,
And make France tremble if our Cæsar frown.
And none presume to touch the sacred lyre,
These servile times no glorious deeds produce,
Worthy the fame of an immortal muse:
Ambassadors are sent, and treaties made,
Arm'd squadrons fitted out, and pensions paid;
Pacific armies bluster thro' the land,
And admirals,—to keep the peace,—command;
84
Yet Spain like Æolus usurps the sway.
But such the spirit of the laureat's odes,
His glowing lines can make mere mortals Gods:
Sound thro' the world Britannia's high renown,
And make France tremble if our Cæsar frown.
How hard a fate to sacrifice thy blood,
O Peterborough, for the public good!
To bear the toils of war in foreign climes,
And when return'd,—to stand the charge of crimes!
But, while old England's genius rears her head,
Still shall you strike in distant nations dread.
Those honours you deserve, let others claim!
Posterity will bless your glorious name,
And future times reward your injur'd fame.
O Peterborough, for the public good!
To bear the toils of war in foreign climes,
And when return'd,—to stand the charge of crimes!
But, while old England's genius rears her head,
Still shall you strike in distant nations dread.
Those honours you deserve, let others claim!
Posterity will bless your glorious name,
And future times reward your injur'd fame.
Soon after the battle of Culloden, which was the sixteenth of April, 1746, the parliament gave an additional sum of twenty-five thousand a year to the Duke, for his signal service in extirpating the rebellion.
These lines were writ some years ago, when the nation severely felt the truth of them, notwithstanding the poem appears to be of a later date by some passages since inserted.
85
On the Death of the Reverend Mr. John Bingham, Student of Christ-Church in Oxford.
Erat homo ingeniosus, acutus, & acer, qui plurimum & salis haberet, & fellis, nec candoris minus.
Pliny's Epistles.
Tho' vain the tributary tears we shed
For friends in exile, or untimely dead;
When men distinguish'd for their merit die,
The muses love to sing their elegy;
In humble strains the mournful theme pursue,
And give to friendship rigid virtue's due.
For friends in exile, or untimely dead;
When men distinguish'd for their merit die,
The muses love to sing their elegy;
In humble strains the mournful theme pursue,
And give to friendship rigid virtue's due.
What honest nature dictates void of art,
With eyes o'erflowing and a bleeding heart,
Free from the labour'd ornament of verse,
Shall pay the tribute due to Bingham's hearse.
Oh could these lines (illustrious shade) restore
Life to those virtues, which are now no more!
E'en C--- would bless the sacred nine,
And own their inspiration was divine.
86
Shall pay the tribute due to Bingham's hearse.
Oh could these lines (illustrious shade) restore
Life to those virtues, which are now no more!
E'en C--- would bless the sacred nine,
And own their inspiration was divine.
In dawn of life so strong thy merit shone,
Mankind could scarce expect a brighter noon:
Sure Oxford universal sorrow wears,
And Isis' stream increases with her tears;
Such was her grief, when Milton's son expir'd,
A rising genius by the world admir'd.
Mankind could scarce expect a brighter noon:
Sure Oxford universal sorrow wears,
And Isis' stream increases with her tears;
Such was her grief, when Milton's son expir'd,
A rising genius by the world admir'd.
87
Too partial fate will let the fool and knave
Drag in contempt their beings to the grave;
But like a tyrant labours to destroy
All that excel in worth, or give us joy,
Who shine like meteors glorious in their birth,
But soon in blazing ruins sink to earth.
Drag in contempt their beings to the grave;
But like a tyrant labours to destroy
All that excel in worth, or give us joy,
Who shine like meteors glorious in their birth,
But soon in blazing ruins sink to earth.
So good Marcellus perish'd in his bloom,
The rising hope and ornament of Rome,
With every shining quality adorn'd,
Like thee, by men of worth and virtue mourn'd.
The rising hope and ornament of Rome,
With every shining quality adorn'd,
Like thee, by men of worth and virtue mourn'd.
What art can reach, or science can define,
Among philosophers, or wits, to shine,
Without the help of flattery, was thine.
Among philosophers, or wits, to shine,
Without the help of flattery, was thine.
88
Youth's giddy sons, or age severely wise,
From thy sweet converse could instructed rise.
Bless'd with a genius for each science fit,
With strength of judgment and a ready wit:
Thy copious talents would our envy move,
Had not thy sweet behaviour won our love.
Firm to his principles, to honour just,
Faithful as guardian angels to their trust;
He gave his friends and enemies their due,
Above their praises and their censure too.
From thy sweet converse could instructed rise.
Bless'd with a genius for each science fit,
With strength of judgment and a ready wit:
Thy copious talents would our envy move,
Had not thy sweet behaviour won our love.
Firm to his principles, to honour just,
Faithful as guardian angels to their trust;
He gave his friends and enemies their due,
Above their praises and their censure too.
Severe in morals, honest without art,
An able head, and incorrupted heart;
Possess'd of little, with a chearful mind
He relish'd life, and was in death resign'd:
The gay tranquillity, the heart-felt joy,
Were his, which fortune never could destroy.
The best companion, the sincerest friend,
Rever'd in life, lamented in his end.
How few like him in early youth approv'd,
Admir'd by enemies, by friends belov'd!
Such is the merit of an honest fame,
And such the character his virtues claim.
An able head, and incorrupted heart;
Possess'd of little, with a chearful mind
He relish'd life, and was in death resign'd:
89
Were his, which fortune never could destroy.
The best companion, the sincerest friend,
Rever'd in life, lamented in his end.
How few like him in early youth approv'd,
Admir'd by enemies, by friends belov'd!
Such is the merit of an honest fame,
And such the character his virtues claim.
Sometimes in converse o'er the midnight bowl,
When wine unfolds the secrets of the soul,
When absent friends our grateful thoughts engage,
Or beauties that adorn and charm this age,
His sacred image damps my rising mirth,
And gives to sad reflections hateful birth;
Imagination paints the pleasure past,
But so refin'd a bliss could never last;
On every word each guest enraptur'd hung,
And bless'd the genius that inspir'd his tongue.
When wine unfolds the secrets of the soul,
When absent friends our grateful thoughts engage,
Or beauties that adorn and charm this age,
His sacred image damps my rising mirth,
And gives to sad reflections hateful birth;
90
But so refin'd a bliss could never last;
On every word each guest enraptur'd hung,
And bless'd the genius that inspir'd his tongue.
Now women, wine, nor mirth have pow'r to move,
The friend that shares my soul, or fair I love;
His dear remembrance strikes my troubled mind,
And casts all other pleasures far behind;
Then let the pensive muse resign her pen,
And weep no longer o'er the best of men.
The friend that shares my soul, or fair I love;
His dear remembrance strikes my troubled mind,
And casts all other pleasures far behind;
Then let the pensive muse resign her pen,
And weep no longer o'er the best of men.
91
On the Death of the Right Honourable Lord Castlecomer in 1736.
Farewel thou blooming hope of Albion's isle,
Whose converse could the cares of life beguile!
Enrich'd with lively wit, with arts adorn'd,
In the first scene of youth, admir'd and mourn'd;
Whom Heaven repenting thought a gift too great,
And early snatch'd thee to a better state;
Where souls like thine, of an exalted kind,
From every mean and vulgar thought refin'd,
Dwell in pure regions of immortal joy,
Where nothing can the high-wrought bliss destroy;
Where injur'd innocence kind angels guard,
And slighted virtue meets a sure reward.
Whose converse could the cares of life beguile!
Enrich'd with lively wit, with arts adorn'd,
In the first scene of youth, admir'd and mourn'd;
Whom Heaven repenting thought a gift too great,
And early snatch'd thee to a better state;
Where souls like thine, of an exalted kind,
From every mean and vulgar thought refin'd,
Dwell in pure regions of immortal joy,
Where nothing can the high-wrought bliss destroy;
Where injur'd innocence kind angels guard,
And slighted virtue meets a sure reward.
92
Lamented youth! What tears of sorrow flow?
How every pensive bosom heaves with woe?
While all whose breasts the tuneful nine inspire,
Tho' dumb with grief, yet touch the moving lyre;
In melancholy numbers void of art,
Speak the sad language of an aching heart.
How every pensive bosom heaves with woe?
While all whose breasts the tuneful nine inspire,
Tho' dumb with grief, yet touch the moving lyre;
In melancholy numbers void of art,
Speak the sad language of an aching heart.
Since the frail sisters cut thy slender thread,
And you are rank'd among th' illustrious dead;
Now every coxcomb's fond ambition ends,
Whom vanity, or fortune, made your friends;
When the mean tribe of slaves no longer wait
To croud like parasites your palace-gate;
The sacred muse, to friendship ever dear,
O'er thy cold ashes sheds a grateful tear:
'Tis her's to pay the last sad tribute due
To celebrated worth in friends like you;
In humble strains to make their merit known,
Or mark their virtues on the sculptur'd stone.
And you are rank'd among th' illustrious dead;
Now every coxcomb's fond ambition ends,
Whom vanity, or fortune, made your friends;
When the mean tribe of slaves no longer wait
To croud like parasites your palace-gate;
The sacred muse, to friendship ever dear,
O'er thy cold ashes sheds a grateful tear:
93
To celebrated worth in friends like you;
In humble strains to make their merit known,
Or mark their virtues on the sculptur'd stone.
Wandsford farewel! in whom kind nature join'd
Whatever could instruct, or charm the mind;
With learning candour, modesty with truth,
The sage's wisdom with the fire of youth;
Whose affability and winning air
Could entertain a friend, or please the fair;
Who made stern honour all his actions guide;
Tho' nobly born, without one spark of pride;
Whose glory on its own foundation stood,
And claim'd no merit from descent of blood.
When the gay scene of fleeting life is oe'r,
And the world's vanities delight no more,
The parting soul reflecting on thy death
Shall yield with greater joy her latest breath;
Without one struggle bid the world adieu,
And wing her flight to happiness and you.
Whatever could instruct, or charm the mind;
With learning candour, modesty with truth,
The sage's wisdom with the fire of youth;
Whose affability and winning air
Could entertain a friend, or please the fair;
Who made stern honour all his actions guide;
Tho' nobly born, without one spark of pride;
Whose glory on its own foundation stood,
And claim'd no merit from descent of blood.
94
And the world's vanities delight no more,
The parting soul reflecting on thy death
Shall yield with greater joy her latest breath;
Without one struggle bid the world adieu,
And wing her flight to happiness and you.
The third Ode of the Second Book of Horace,
addressed to my Friend Charles Beaumont.
Whatever fortune, Beaumont, is thy lot,
This moral maxim never be forgot!
Whether the fickle Goddess smile, or low'r,
To rise superior to her boasted pow'r,
And spite of fate enjoy the present hour.
But, if she shift the variable scene,
With the same calm preserve the golden mean.
Whether our days are spent in gloomy care,
Or bless'd in revels with the wanton fair;
Whether we curb each sally of the soul,
Or feast our genius o'er the flowing bowl,
Time measures out our lives with equal pace,
Till every mortal runs his destin'd race.
This moral maxim never be forgot!
95
To rise superior to her boasted pow'r,
And spite of fate enjoy the present hour.
But, if she shift the variable scene,
With the same calm preserve the golden mean.
Whether our days are spent in gloomy care,
Or bless'd in revels with the wanton fair;
96
Or feast our genius o'er the flowing bowl,
Time measures out our lives with equal pace,
Till every mortal runs his destin'd race.
Where the tall pine and poplar branch unite,
And without heat admit the friendly light;
Where silver streams in clear meanders glide,
And gently murmur as they roll their tide:
There let some Ganymede fresh chaplets bring,
The short-liv'd glories of the blooming spring;
There in gay converse, while the fates permit,
Indulge the joys of wine, and flights of wit:
For soon you must resign the purchas'd grove,
The stately fabric, and the nymph you love.
Your cumulated riches prove the share
Of some detested wife, or spend-thrift heir.
And without heat admit the friendly light;
Where silver streams in clear meanders glide,
And gently murmur as they roll their tide:
97
The short-liv'd glories of the blooming spring;
There in gay converse, while the fates permit,
Indulge the joys of wine, and flights of wit:
For soon you must resign the purchas'd grove,
The stately fabric, and the nymph you love.
Your cumulated riches prove the share
Of some detested wife, or spend-thrift heir.
98
What!—tho' we vainly should derive our blood
From distant chronicles beyond the flood;
Or with humility confess it run
From some mean parent to his meaner son;
The same impartial fate o'erwhelms us all:
Fools, knaves, and heroes, undistinguihs'd fall.
From distant chronicles beyond the flood;
Or with humility confess it run
From some mean parent to his meaner son;
99
Fools, knaves, and heroes, undistinguihs'd fall.
The Eleventh Ode of the Second Book of Horace,
addressed to a Gentleman at Cambridge.
What makes the haughty Spaniards rise in arms,
And France aspiring kindle war's alarms:
While hostile armies in dire conflict join,
And slaughter bath'd in blood defiles the Rhine?
And France aspiring kindle war's alarms:
While hostile armies in dire conflict join,
And slaughter bath'd in blood defiles the Rhine?
100
Ask not, my friend! but with the sprightly bowl
Chear the sad anguish of your drooping soul;
Nor let the protect of a future ill
Restrain your pleasure, or controul your will.
The blooming beauty of your youth will fly,
As sudden storms o'ercast the clearest sky;
Cold hoary age succeeds with aching pains,
And chills the sprightly blood within your veins:
Then every wanton hope, and gay desire,
Will with declining youth too soon expire;
E'en sleep, that solace to a troubled breast,
Flies from old age, nor lulls its cares to rest.
Fair Henry's blooming charms too soon will fade,
And waining beauty bring Philander aid;
Tho' wanton love now revels in her eye,
And rash admirers gaze, tho' sure to die.
Check not with thought the gay desires of youth,
In quest of lucre, or in search of truth!
Chear the sad anguish of your drooping soul;
Nor let the protect of a future ill
Restrain your pleasure, or controul your will.
The blooming beauty of your youth will fly,
As sudden storms o'ercast the clearest sky;
Cold hoary age succeeds with aching pains,
And chills the sprightly blood within your veins:
Then every wanton hope, and gay desire,
Will with declining youth too soon expire;
101
Flies from old age, nor lulls its cares to rest.
Fair Henry's blooming charms too soon will fade,
And waining beauty bring Philander aid;
Tho' wanton love now revels in her eye,
And rash admirers gaze, tho' sure to die.
Check not with thought the gay desires of youth,
In quest of lucre, or in search of truth!
102
But in high spirits fill the sparkling glass,
And drink a bumper to some fav'rite lass!
'Tis wine that dissipates the cares of life,
A perjur'd mistress, or a scolding wife;
A jealous friend, a mean insulting foe,
And every moving circumstance of woe.
What youth will temperate the heated wine,
And make it fit to drink, before we dine?
And drink a bumper to some fav'rite lass!
'Tis wine that dissipates the cares of life,
A perjur'd mistress, or a scolding wife;
A jealous friend, a mean insulting foe,
And every moving circumstance of woe.
What youth will temperate the heated wine,
And make it fit to drink, before we dine?
103
Or beckon with another harlot's fan
Across the Mall to gay lascivious Man?
Nor let the wanton stay to curl her hair,
Decently lewd, and negligently fair;
But let the syren bring her artful lyre,
To raise our passions, and increase their fire.
Thus pleasure shall improve each fleeting hour,
And fix our happiness within our pow'r.
Across the Mall to gay lascivious Man?
Nor let the wanton stay to curl her hair,
Decently lewd, and negligently fair;
But let the syren bring her artful lyre,
To raise our passions, and increase their fire.
Thus pleasure shall improve each fleeting hour,
And fix our happiness within our pow'r.
104
An Epistle to the Honourable Henry Bathurst, Esq;
Member of Parliament for Cirencester in Gloucestershire.
To thee, dear Bathurst, this epistle's sent
To tell you how my leisure hours are spent;
To show what passions in my bosom roll,
Unfold my heart, and open all my soul.
To tell you how my leisure hours are spent;
To show what passions in my bosom roll,
Unfold my heart, and open all my soul.
You know I held it always for a rule,
To loath a villain, and despise a fool;
Nor court the vulgar for their weak applause,
To sooth my vanity, or aid my cause.
To loath a villain, and despise a fool;
Nor court the vulgar for their weak applause,
To sooth my vanity, or aid my cause.
Still the same course my steady soul pursues,
Firm to my friend, my mistress, and the muse:
Nor can o'er midnight lamps with thought grow pale,
To tell the world what wretched mortals ail;
What foul disease is working in their veins,
When the sick groan beneath their racking pains.
Firm to my friend, my mistress, and the muse:
105
To tell the world what wretched mortals ail;
What foul disease is working in their veins,
When the sick groan beneath their racking pains.
Hippocrates and Galen are not read,
But Horace, Ovid, Virgil, in their stead;
And Juvenal, whose manly spirit glows
With sharp-edg'd satyr against virtue's foes:
Vice flies before him, while his honest page
Paints in strong colours a corrupted age;
A Messalina, reeking from the stews,
Improves the force of his satyric muse;
In vain her actions seek the gloom of night,
Drawn by his pen in an immortal light.
But Horace, Ovid, Virgil, in their stead;
And Juvenal, whose manly spirit glows
With sharp-edg'd satyr against virtue's foes:
Vice flies before him, while his honest page
Paints in strong colours a corrupted age;
A Messalina, reeking from the stews,
Improves the force of his satyric muse;
In vain her actions seek the gloom of night,
Drawn by his pen in an immortal light.
106
Since human life's extent is scarce a span,
And few the transitory joys of man;
How vain their toil, who spend their early days
In painful study for immortal praise?
Who search the Grecian, and the Roman store,
And the vast depth of sciences explore;
Not that the mind should be to virtue wrought,
To raise the soul, or elevate the thought;
To make mankind with equal scorn abhor
The ridicule of want, and pride of pow'r;
But like mean wretches prostitute their parts,
To serve weak heads, or base corrupted hearts;
To sooth ambition, or to flatter pride,
And make the lust of gold their actions guide;
To sell their country's glory for a post,
Enjoy the spoil, nor mourn their honour lost:
When such the motives, their superior sense
Proves a mere bawd to some despotic prince.
And few the transitory joys of man;
How vain their toil, who spend their early days
In painful study for immortal praise?
Who search the Grecian, and the Roman store,
And the vast depth of sciences explore;
Not that the mind should be to virtue wrought,
To raise the soul, or elevate the thought;
To make mankind with equal scorn abhor
The ridicule of want, and pride of pow'r;
But like mean wretches prostitute their parts,
To serve weak heads, or base corrupted hearts;
To sooth ambition, or to flatter pride,
And make the lust of gold their actions guide;
To sell their country's glory for a post,
Enjoy the spoil, nor mourn their honour lost:
107
Proves a mere bawd to some despotic prince.
As women to whom lavish nature gave
Charms that can make the coldest heart their slave,
When once they deviate from virtue's rules,
And sacrifice their modesty to fools,
Each added beauty makes their guilt the more;
For still the fairest is the greatest whore.
Charms that can make the coldest heart their slave,
When once they deviate from virtue's rules,
And sacrifice their modesty to fools,
Each added beauty makes their guilt the more;
For still the fairest is the greatest whore.
While your bark fails life's navigable stream,
Let your just principles remain the same!
Let strictest honour be your firm support,
And for a pension scorn to cringe at court!
Fearless of censure act a Roman part,
And boldly speak the dictates of your heart;
Long may you live to make your virtues known,
And prove your country's interest your own.
Let your just principles remain the same!
Let strictest honour be your firm support,
And for a pension scorn to cringe at court!
Fearless of censure act a Roman part,
And boldly speak the dictates of your heart;
108
And prove your country's interest your own.
Peterhouse, Cambridge, April 14, 1737.
Paul's-Walden.
A Poem addressed to my Uncle, Edward Gilbert, Esq.
While stretch'd at ease beneath thy sylvan shade,
I call the sacred muses to my aid,
Where lavish nature charms the ravish'd sight,
To set her beauties in the fairest light;
Accept the tribute of a grateful heart,
Who loaths the varnish of the courtier's art;
But, were my genius equal to my will,
Thy green retreat should rival Cowper's-hill.
Far from the noisy tumult of the great,
Curs'd with no mean dependance on the state,
You,— to your rural solitude retire,
And shun the follies which the world admire;
With books and exercise the time beguile,
And with a taste improve the stubborn soil,
Where nature and industrious art combine
With social aid each other to refine.
I call the sacred muses to my aid,
Where lavish nature charms the ravish'd sight,
To set her beauties in the fairest light;
Accept the tribute of a grateful heart,
Who loaths the varnish of the courtier's art;
But, were my genius equal to my will,
Thy green retreat should rival Cowper's-hill.
109
Curs'd with no mean dependance on the state,
You,— to your rural solitude retire,
And shun the follies which the world admire;
With books and exercise the time beguile,
And with a taste improve the stubborn soil,
Where nature and industrious art combine
With social aid each other to refine.
How pleasing is the change? Where lately stood
A desart's wild uncultivated wood,
Where loathsome weeds and rugged brambles grew,
A fair creation rises to the view;
So from old Chaos, wrap'd in gloomy night,
A paradise was open'd to the sight.
How vain the toil of rude magnificence,
To level mountains at a vast expence;
Except a taste with equal lustre shine
Throughout, and animate the whole design?
Else stately temples rise in dreary vales,
And ships in verdant trees expand their sails;
Birds, tygers, elephants,— a motley crew,
While heroes fight, and giants frown in yew;
Where art and nature foolishly contend
To frustrate,— not promote each other's end.
A desart's wild uncultivated wood,
Where loathsome weeds and rugged brambles grew,
A fair creation rises to the view;
So from old Chaos, wrap'd in gloomy night,
A paradise was open'd to the sight.
110
To level mountains at a vast expence;
Except a taste with equal lustre shine
Throughout, and animate the whole design?
Else stately temples rise in dreary vales,
And ships in verdant trees expand their sails;
Birds, tygers, elephants,— a motley crew,
While heroes fight, and giants frown in yew;
Where art and nature foolishly contend
To frustrate,— not promote each other's end.
On a small hill a decent fabric stands,
Which gives a bounded prospect o'er the lands;
Where waving fields of golden corn appear,
The smiling product of the fruitful year.
From thence behold a level verdant plain,
Smooth as the surface of a halcyon main:
Then circling walks their leafy shades extend,
Which seem to puzzled strangers without end;
Till some new scenes attract the wond'ring eyes,
And with a gay variety surprize.
Which gives a bounded prospect o'er the lands;
Where waving fields of golden corn appear,
The smiling product of the fruitful year.
111
Smooth as the surface of a halcyon main:
Then circling walks their leafy shades extend,
Which seem to puzzled strangers without end;
Till some new scenes attract the wond'ring eyes,
And with a gay variety surprize.
Swift o'er the plain tho' rapid whirlwinds sweep,
Like sudden tempests o'er the troubled deep;
From the rough northern blast secure you walk,
And scarce a murmur interrupts your talk.
Lest thro' the various windings of the grove
Your footsteps tire, arises an alcove;
There seated, thro' a vista of the wood,
Your wand'ring eye surveys a gentle flood,
Where (pleasing sight) the sun's refulgent beam
Glides o'er the surface of the silver stream.
Like sudden tempests o'er the troubled deep;
From the rough northern blast secure you walk,
And scarce a murmur interrupts your talk.
Lest thro' the various windings of the grove
Your footsteps tire, arises an alcove;
There seated, thro' a vista of the wood,
Your wand'ring eye surveys a gentle flood,
112
Glides o'er the surface of the silver stream.
As you thro' various paths the walk pursue,
A hermitage arises to the view;
Not built to vy with Carolina's taste,
Polish'd with art, with learned busto's grac'd;
But unadorn'd, as suits a hermit's state,
Where he might live content, and bless his fate.
A hermitage arises to the view;
Not built to vy with Carolina's taste,
Polish'd with art, with learned busto's grac'd;
But unadorn'd, as suits a hermit's state,
Where he might live content, and bless his fate.
While thro' the mazy labyrinth you rove,
The path conducts you to an orange grove,
Where golden-colour'd fruit suspend the trees,
And fragrant odours scent the wasting breeze.
Not far beneath, a lucid fountain plays,
Whose stream reflects the sun's departing rays.
To change the scene, yet please with taste polite,
An amphitheatre's majestic height
By slow degrees above the wood ascends,
And a clear prospect all around extends.
When the green hill your winding footsteps gain,
A temple overlooks the distant plain.
The path conducts you to an orange grove,
Where golden-colour'd fruit suspend the trees,
And fragrant odours scent the wasting breeze.
Not far beneath, a lucid fountain plays,
Whose stream reflects the sun's departing rays.
113
An amphitheatre's majestic height
By slow degrees above the wood ascends,
And a clear prospect all around extends.
When the green hill your winding footsteps gain,
A temple overlooks the distant plain.
On a large terras a pavilion stands,
The curious work of celebrated hands.
Within the dome is elegantly wrought
The pictur'd labour of the artist's thought:
Immortal bards from him new fame receive,
And to the pleas'd spectator seem to live.
First Cowley's image rises to the view,
Who charms with sprightly wit for ever new;
Who weary with the follies of the great,
To study nature sought a calm retreat;
And left the busy world to knaves and fools,
In search of happiness by wisdom's rules.
Next Virgil's awful form, in whose strong lines
The Roman genius in full splendor shines;
Whose flowing verses sooth'd Augustus' ear,
And made the fair Octavia drop a tear,
When he bewail'd o'er young Marcellus' tomb,
His country's hope, who perish'd in his bloom.
Great Dryden next, whose lofty genius rose
Above the party-malice of his foes;
Who, with a Juvenal's satirick rage,
Lash'd the bold vice of a licentious age;
Who rescu'd Virgil from the shameful brand
Fix'd on him by a vile translator's hand;
And made him in an English dress appear,
Which Virgil living would not blush to wear.
Immortal Shakespear next, whose bosom glow'd
With the full inspiration of the God.
What nature taught, her faithful poet drew,
And open'd all her treasures to our view.
Dan. Prior next, a merry bard, succeeds,
Whom scarce a critic without laughter reads.
He tells a merry tale with so much ease,
As cannot fail the splenetic to please:
Yet with what energy his lines rehearse
Great Churchill's triumphs in his sounding verse?
How bless'd his talent! who, with various art,
On every subject captivates the heart.
What numbers can poetic fancy chuse
To paint the vigour of a Milton's muse?
Who scorns the bounds of earth, and tow'ring soars
Above the stars, and distant worlds explores;
To foreign climates of his fame we boast;
And mourn the less that paradise was lost.
Next Homer's image rises to the sight,
His eyes like Milton's veil'd in shades of night.
Illustrious bard! for ever in his prime,
Age after age, who triumphs over time.
When Alexander read, the hero wept,
(And laid him by his pillow when he slept)
That no such genius in all Greece arose
To sing of conquests o'er his prostrate foes,
And consecrate in verse his glorious name
To late posterity, the boast of fame.
Peculiar beauties to each bard belong,
And Orpheus finishes the tuneful throng:
But hark!—the solemn organ's swelling note
Strikes on the sense, and sooths each troubled thought.
Swift o'er the keys Belinda's fingers move,
While fair Cecilia listens from above.
The curious work of celebrated hands.
Within the dome is elegantly wrought
The pictur'd labour of the artist's thought:
Immortal bards from him new fame receive,
And to the pleas'd spectator seem to live.
First Cowley's image rises to the view,
Who charms with sprightly wit for ever new;
114
To study nature sought a calm retreat;
And left the busy world to knaves and fools,
In search of happiness by wisdom's rules.
Next Virgil's awful form, in whose strong lines
The Roman genius in full splendor shines;
Whose flowing verses sooth'd Augustus' ear,
And made the fair Octavia drop a tear,
When he bewail'd o'er young Marcellus' tomb,
His country's hope, who perish'd in his bloom.
Great Dryden next, whose lofty genius rose
Above the party-malice of his foes;
Who, with a Juvenal's satirick rage,
Lash'd the bold vice of a licentious age;
Who rescu'd Virgil from the shameful brand
Fix'd on him by a vile translator's hand;
115
Which Virgil living would not blush to wear.
Immortal Shakespear next, whose bosom glow'd
With the full inspiration of the God.
What nature taught, her faithful poet drew,
And open'd all her treasures to our view.
Dan. Prior next, a merry bard, succeeds,
Whom scarce a critic without laughter reads.
He tells a merry tale with so much ease,
As cannot fail the splenetic to please:
Yet with what energy his lines rehearse
Great Churchill's triumphs in his sounding verse?
How bless'd his talent! who, with various art,
On every subject captivates the heart.
What numbers can poetic fancy chuse
To paint the vigour of a Milton's muse?
116
Above the stars, and distant worlds explores;
To foreign climates of his fame we boast;
And mourn the less that paradise was lost.
Next Homer's image rises to the sight,
His eyes like Milton's veil'd in shades of night.
Illustrious bard! for ever in his prime,
Age after age, who triumphs over time.
When Alexander read, the hero wept,
(And laid him by his pillow when he slept)
That no such genius in all Greece arose
To sing of conquests o'er his prostrate foes,
And consecrate in verse his glorious name
To late posterity, the boast of fame.
117
And Orpheus finishes the tuneful throng:
But hark!—the solemn organ's swelling note
Strikes on the sense, and sooths each troubled thought.
Swift o'er the keys Belinda's fingers move,
While fair Cecilia listens from above.
As ancient poets sing, when Orpheus play'd,
The savage beasts forsook the rural shade;
E'en the fierce tyger innocently stood
Close by the lamb, nor drank his vital blood;
And ravish'd with the music of his song
Inanimated forests danc'd along:
But this fair nymph has the peculiar art
To charm the list'ning ear, and touch the heart;
Not brutes, but men, attentive round her stand,
And bless the genius that directs her hand.
The savage beasts forsook the rural shade;
E'en the fierce tyger innocently stood
Close by the lamb, nor drank his vital blood;
And ravish'd with the music of his song
Inanimated forests danc'd along:
But this fair nymph has the peculiar art
To charm the list'ning ear, and touch the heart;
118
And bless the genius that directs her hand.
A terras walk extends for ever green,
And opens to the sight a various scene.
When the bright sun withdraws his parting rays,
And quenches in the sea his fiery blaze,
There you may walk uncover'd by the trees,
O'er the smooth blade, and catch the cooling breeze.
But, if the scorching dog-star's sultry heat
With beams intense upon your temples beat,
Thro' the wood's shady mazes you return,
Secure from piercing rays, tho' Sirius burn.
And opens to the sight a various scene.
When the bright sun withdraws his parting rays,
And quenches in the sea his fiery blaze,
There you may walk uncover'd by the trees,
O'er the smooth blade, and catch the cooling breeze.
But, if the scorching dog-star's sultry heat
With beams intense upon your temples beat,
119
Secure from piercing rays, tho' Sirius burn.
A palace for the busy race of bees
Arises next, with various art to please,
Which, rugged like the fragment of a rock,
Preserves them from a sudden tempest's shock.
A female regent o'er the state presides,
And with impartial sway her kingdom guides.
Unlike to other courts, here subjects thrive,
Not by vain birth,— but merit in the hive;
No private lust of gain, or deadly hate,
No rage of party-faction rends the state:
Each little insect breathes a patriot soul,
Not for himself he labours,— but the whole.
Arises next, with various art to please,
Which, rugged like the fragment of a rock,
Preserves them from a sudden tempest's shock.
A female regent o'er the state presides,
And with impartial sway her kingdom guides.
Unlike to other courts, here subjects thrive,
Not by vain birth,— but merit in the hive;
No private lust of gain, or deadly hate,
No rage of party-faction rends the state:
Each little insect breathes a patriot soul,
Not for himself he labours,— but the whole.
120
To terminate the view where vista's end,
Light statues from their pedestals ascend:
Such the great artist's skill, their limbs appear
In just proportion, and their features clear;
The various passions in their visage glow,
And o'er each lively form a lustre throw.—
Light statues from their pedestals ascend:
Such the great artist's skill, their limbs appear
In just proportion, and their features clear;
The various passions in their visage glow,
And o'er each lively form a lustre throw.—
But now the fates have chang'd the scene of bliss:
Belinda marry'd equal to Your wish,
Of every noble quality possess'd,
To make a parent, or a husband bless'd;
Whose merit will his happiness improve,
To find a fair so worthy of his love:
Where Gibside pours her fragrant sweets around,
We seem to tread upon enchanted ground;
There pendant woods adorn the river's side,
Whose purling streams in gentle murmurs glide:
In the bleak north, What blooming groves appear?
What harmony delights the ravish'd ear?
Where elegance and taste with art unite,
To form so fine a scene to charm the sight.
Long may you live these pleasures to enjoy,
Which give true happiness, yet never cloy.
Belinda marry'd equal to Your wish,
Of every noble quality possess'd,
To make a parent, or a husband bless'd;
Whose merit will his happiness improve,
To find a fair so worthy of his love:
Where Gibside pours her fragrant sweets around,
We seem to tread upon enchanted ground;
121
Whose purling streams in gentle murmurs glide:
In the bleak north, What blooming groves appear?
What harmony delights the ravish'd ear?
Where elegance and taste with art unite,
To form so fine a scene to charm the sight.
Long may you live these pleasures to enjoy,
Which give true happiness, yet never cloy.
I shall here insert the objection an ingenious friend made to this passage, and leave the determination of it to the public, to wit, ‘This passage (if I am not mistaken) seems to me to be an Anticlimax; you mentioned before the power of Orpheus's music over beasts and the inanimate creation; and afterwards, when you would commend a lady's execution on the organ, you say she has not power to charm brutes but men; which to me falls infinitely short of the excellency of Orpheus.’— I think you are mistaken, and that it is paying the lady a greater compliment to say, that she is approved of by men of taste,— than brutes.
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