 | A collection of original poems and translations |  |
328
To the Rev. T. T. D. D.
By a Friend.
French
Pow'r, and weak Allies, and War and Want—
No more of that, my Friend; you touch a String
That hurts my Ear. All Politicks apart,
Except a gen'rous Wish, a glowing Pray'r
For British Welfare, Commerce, Glory, Peace.
Give Party to the Winds. It is a Word,
A Phantom Sound, by which the cunning Great
Whistle to their Dependants. A Decoy,
To gull th' Unwary; where the Master stands
Encouraging his Minions, his train'd Birds,
Fed and caress'd their Species to betray.
See with what hollow Blandishment and Art,
They lead the winged Captives to the Snare;
Fools! that in open Æther might have soar'd,
Free, as the Air they cut; sipt purest Rills,
Din'd with the Thames, or bath'd in crystal Lakes.
No more of that, my Friend; you touch a String
That hurts my Ear. All Politicks apart,
Except a gen'rous Wish, a glowing Pray'r
For British Welfare, Commerce, Glory, Peace.
Give Party to the Winds. It is a Word,
A Phantom Sound, by which the cunning Great
Whistle to their Dependants. A Decoy,
To gull th' Unwary; where the Master stands
Encouraging his Minions, his train'd Birds,
Fed and caress'd their Species to betray.
See with what hollow Blandishment and Art,
They lead the winged Captives to the Snare;
Fools! that in open Æther might have soar'd,
Free, as the Air they cut; sipt purest Rills,
Din'd with the Thames, or bath'd in crystal Lakes.
329
We wear no Badges, no Dependance own:
Who truly loves thee, dearest Liberty,
A silken Fetter will uneasy fit.
Who truly loves thee, dearest Liberty,
A silken Fetter will uneasy fit.
Heav'n knows, it is not Insolence that speaks
The Tribute of Respect, to Greatness due,
Not the brib'd Sycophant more willing pays.
Still, still, as much of Party be retain'd,
As Principle requires, and Sense directs;
Else our vain Bark, without a Rudder, floats
The Scorn and Pastime of each veering Gale.
The Tribute of Respect, to Greatness due,
Not the brib'd Sycophant more willing pays.
Still, still, as much of Party be retain'd,
As Principle requires, and Sense directs;
Else our vain Bark, without a Rudder, floats
The Scorn and Pastime of each veering Gale.
This gentle Ev'ning let the Sun descend
Untroubled: while it paints your ambient Hills
With faded Lustre, and a sweet Farewel,—
Here is our Seat:—That Castle opposite,
Proud of its woody Brow, adorns the Scene.
Untroubled: while it paints your ambient Hills
With faded Lustre, and a sweet Farewel,—
Here is our Seat:—That Castle opposite,
Proud of its woody Brow, adorns the Scene.
Dictate, O! vers'd in Books and just of Taste,
Dictate the pleasing Theme of our Discourse.
Shall we trace Science from her Eastern Home
Chaldæan? or the Banks of Nile, where Thebes,
Nursing her Daughter Arts, majestic stood,
And pour'd forth Knowledge from a hundred Gates?
There first the Marble learn'd to mimick Form,
The pillar'd Temple rose; and Pyramids,
Whose undecaying Grandeur laughs at Time:
Birth-Place of Letters; where the Sun was shewn
His radiant Way, and Heav'ns were taught to roll.
There too the Muses tun'd their earliest Lyre,
Warbling soft Numbers to Serapis' Ear;
'Till chas'd by Tyrants, or a milder Clime
Inviting, they remov'd with Pilgrim Harps
And all their Band of Harmony to Greece.
Dictate the pleasing Theme of our Discourse.
Shall we trace Science from her Eastern Home
330
Nursing her Daughter Arts, majestic stood,
And pour'd forth Knowledge from a hundred Gates?
There first the Marble learn'd to mimick Form,
The pillar'd Temple rose; and Pyramids,
Whose undecaying Grandeur laughs at Time:
Birth-Place of Letters; where the Sun was shewn
His radiant Way, and Heav'ns were taught to roll.
There too the Muses tun'd their earliest Lyre,
Warbling soft Numbers to Serapis' Ear;
'Till chas'd by Tyrants, or a milder Clime
Inviting, they remov'd with Pilgrim Harps
And all their Band of Harmony to Greece.
As when a Flock of Linnets, if perchance
Deliver'd from the Falcon's Talon, fly
With trembling Wing to cover; and renew
Their Notes: tell ev'ry Bush of their Escape,
And trill their merry Thanks to Liberty.
Deliver'd from the Falcon's Talon, fly
With trembling Wing to cover; and renew
Their Notes: tell ev'ry Bush of their Escape,
And trill their merry Thanks to Liberty.
331
The tuneful Tribe, pleas'd with their new Abode,
Polish'd the rude Inhabitants, whence Tales
Of list'ning Woods, and Rocks that danc'd to Sound.
Hear the full Chorus lifting Hymns to Jove!
Linus and Orpheus catch the Strain; and all
The raptur'd Audience utter loud Applause.
Polish'd the rude Inhabitants, whence Tales
Of list'ning Woods, and Rocks that danc'd to Sound.
Hear the full Chorus lifting Hymns to Jove!
Linus and Orpheus catch the Strain; and all
The raptur'd Audience utter loud Applause.
A Song, believe me, was no Trifle Then;
Weighty the Muses' Task, and wide her Sway:
Her's was Religion, the resounding Fanes
Echo'd her Language; Polity was her's,
And the World bow'd to Legislative Verse.
Weighty the Muses' Task, and wide her Sway:
Her's was Religion, the resounding Fanes
Echo'd her Language; Polity was her's,
And the World bow'd to Legislative Verse.
As States encreas'd, and Governments were form'd,
Her Aid less useful, she retir'd to Grots
And shady Bow'rs, content to teach and please.
Under her Laurel frequent Bards repos'd;
Voluble Pindar troll'd his rapid Song,
Or Sappho breath'd her spirited Complaint:
Here the Stage-Buskin, there the Lyrick Choir,
And Homer's epick Trumpet. Happy Greece!
Blest in her Offspring! Seat of Eloquence,
Of Arms, and Reason; Patriot—Virtue's Seat!
Did the Sun thither dart uncommon Rays!
Did some presiding Genius hover o'er
That animated Soil with brooding Wings!
The sad Reverse might start a gentle Tear;
Go search in Athens for Herself, Enquire
Where are her Orators, her Sages, now:
Her Arsenal o'erturn'd, her Walls in Dust,
But far less ruin'd, than her Soul decay'd.
The Stone, inscrib'd to Socrates, debas'd
To prop a reeling Cot. Minerva's Shrine
Possess'd by those, who never heard her Name.
Upon the Mount, where old Musæus sung,
Sits the gruff turban'd Captain, and exacts
Harsh Tribute: on the Spot, where Plato taught
His heav'nly Strains sublime, a stupid Turk
Is preaching Ignorance and Mahomet.
Her Aid less useful, she retir'd to Grots
And shady Bow'rs, content to teach and please.
Under her Laurel frequent Bards repos'd;
Voluble Pindar troll'd his rapid Song,
Or Sappho breath'd her spirited Complaint:
Here the Stage-Buskin, there the Lyrick Choir,
And Homer's epick Trumpet. Happy Greece!
332
Of Arms, and Reason; Patriot—Virtue's Seat!
Did the Sun thither dart uncommon Rays!
Did some presiding Genius hover o'er
That animated Soil with brooding Wings!
The sad Reverse might start a gentle Tear;
Go search in Athens for Herself, Enquire
Where are her Orators, her Sages, now:
Her Arsenal o'erturn'd, her Walls in Dust,
But far less ruin'd, than her Soul decay'd.
The Stone, inscrib'd to Socrates, debas'd
To prop a reeling Cot. Minerva's Shrine
Possess'd by those, who never heard her Name.
Upon the Mount, where old Musæus sung,
Sits the gruff turban'd Captain, and exacts
Harsh Tribute: on the Spot, where Plato taught
His heav'nly Strains sublime, a stupid Turk
Is preaching Ignorance and Mahomet.
Turn next to Rome: is that the Clime, the Place,
Where once, as Fame reports, Augustus liv'd?
What Magick has transform'd her? shrunk her Nerves!
A wither'd Laurel! and a mould'ring Arch!—
Could the pure Crimson Tide, the noblest Blood,
That ever flow'd, to such a Puddle turn?
She ends, like her long Appian, in a Marsh;
Or Jordan's River pouring his clear Urn
Into the black Asphaltus' slimy Lap.
Patrons of Wit, and Victors of Mankind,
Bards, Warriors, Worthies (Revolution Strange!)
Are Pimps, and Fidlers, Mountebanks and Monks.
In Tully's Bee-Hive, Magazine of Sweets,
The lazy Drones are buzzing or asleep.—
Where once, as Fame reports, Augustus liv'd?
333
A wither'd Laurel! and a mould'ring Arch!—
Could the pure Crimson Tide, the noblest Blood,
That ever flow'd, to such a Puddle turn?
She ends, like her long Appian, in a Marsh;
Or Jordan's River pouring his clear Urn
Into the black Asphaltus' slimy Lap.
Patrons of Wit, and Victors of Mankind,
Bards, Warriors, Worthies (Revolution Strange!)
Are Pimps, and Fidlers, Mountebanks and Monks.
In Tully's Bee-Hive, Magazine of Sweets,
The lazy Drones are buzzing or asleep.—
But we forgive the Living for the Dead,
Indebted more to Rome, than we can pay:
Of a long Dearth Prophetick, she laid in
A Feast for Ages.—O thou Banquet nice!
Where the Soul riots with secure Excess.
What felt Delight! what pleasing useful Hours
Repeated owe we to her letter'd Sons?
We, by their Favour, Tiber's Walks enjoy,
Their Temples trace, and share their noble Games;
Enter the crowded Theatre at Will,
Go to the Forum, hear the Consul plead;
Are present in the thund'ring Capitol
When Tully speaks.—At softer Hours attend
Harmonious Virgil to his Mantuan Farm
Or Bajan: and with happy Horace talk
In Myrtle Groves by Teverone's Cascade.
Indebted more to Rome, than we can pay:
Of a long Dearth Prophetick, she laid in
A Feast for Ages.—O thou Banquet nice!
Where the Soul riots with secure Excess.
What felt Delight! what pleasing useful Hours
Repeated owe we to her letter'd Sons?
We, by their Favour, Tiber's Walks enjoy,
334
Enter the crowded Theatre at Will,
Go to the Forum, hear the Consul plead;
Are present in the thund'ring Capitol
When Tully speaks.—At softer Hours attend
Harmonious Virgil to his Mantuan Farm
Or Bajan: and with happy Horace talk
In Myrtle Groves by Teverone's Cascade.
Hail precious Pages! that amuse and teach,
Exalt the Genius, and improve the Breast.
Ye sage Historians, all your Stores unfold,
Reach your clear steady Mirror;—in that Glass
The Forms of Good and Ill are well pourtray'd.
Exalt the Genius, and improve the Breast.
Ye sage Historians, all your Stores unfold,
Reach your clear steady Mirror;—in that Glass
The Forms of Good and Ill are well pourtray'd.
But chiefly thou, divine Philosophy,
Shed thy blest Influence; with thy Train appear
Of Graces mild; far be the Stoick boast,
The Cynick's Snarl, and churlish Pedantry.
Bright Visitant, if not too high my Wish,
Come in the lovely Dress you wore, a Guest
At Plato's Table; or at Tusculum,
The Roman Feasting his selected Friends.
Tamer of Pride! at thy serene Rebuke
See crouching Insolence; Spleen and Revenge
Before thy shining Taper disappear.
Tutor of human Life! auspicious Guide!
Whose faithful Clue unravels ev'ry Maze,
Whose Conduct smooths the roughest Paths: whose Voice
Controlls each Storm, and bids the Roar be still.
O condescend to gild my darksome Roof;
Let me know thee,—the Delphic Oracle
Is then obey'd,—and I shall know myself.
Shed thy blest Influence; with thy Train appear
Of Graces mild; far be the Stoick boast,
The Cynick's Snarl, and churlish Pedantry.
Bright Visitant, if not too high my Wish,
Come in the lovely Dress you wore, a Guest
335
The Roman Feasting his selected Friends.
Tamer of Pride! at thy serene Rebuke
See crouching Insolence; Spleen and Revenge
Before thy shining Taper disappear.
Tutor of human Life! auspicious Guide!
Whose faithful Clue unravels ev'ry Maze,
Whose Conduct smooths the roughest Paths: whose Voice
Controlls each Storm, and bids the Roar be still.
O condescend to gild my darksome Roof;
Let me know thee,—the Delphic Oracle
Is then obey'd,—and I shall know myself.
| A collection of original poems and translations | |