 | A collection of original poems and translations |  |
29
A JOURNEY TO HOUGHTON,
The Seat of the Right Hon. Robert Walpole, Earl of Orford, in the County of Norfolk.
A POEM.
Sweet Nymphs, that dwell on Pindus' verdant Side,
And o'er the Woods, without a Blush, preside,
Celestial Muses, deign your Bard a Lay,
As on the winding Banks of Yare I stray.
Yet if the Nymphs from Pindus scorn to bow,
Nor deign to listen to a Voice so low;
Their Pride I will repay, and in Despite,
While such my Theme, of all the Muses write.
And o'er the Woods, without a Blush, preside,
Celestial Muses, deign your Bard a Lay,
As on the winding Banks of Yare I stray.
Yet if the Nymphs from Pindus scorn to bow,
Nor deign to listen to a Voice so low;
Their Pride I will repay, and in Despite,
While such my Theme, of all the Muses write.
30
Recall we then, for still 'twill please, to mind
The Morn we left dull Norwith Smoke behind,
When, as the lofty Spire just sunk from View,
To a fair verdant water'd Vale we drew;
Where 'midst fair Liberty's all-joyous Plains
Pop'ry still seems to hug her galling Chains.
The Dragon in Hesperian Gardens old
Thus slumbring lay, and tasted not the Gold;
Thus, 'midst th' eternal Spring Judæa keeps,
The lazy Poison of Aspholtus sleeps.
The Morn we left dull Norwith Smoke behind,
When, as the lofty Spire just sunk from View,
To a fair verdant water'd Vale we drew;
Where 'midst fair Liberty's all-joyous Plains
Pop'ry still seems to hug her galling Chains.
The Dragon in Hesperian Gardens old
Thus slumbring lay, and tasted not the Gold;
Thus, 'midst th' eternal Spring Judæa keeps,
The lazy Poison of Aspholtus sleeps.
Bend then, my Muse, thy flight to Weston's Plains,
(No Verse can flow where Papal Slav'ry reigns)
Weston! whose Groves not envy Pindus' Shade,
Nor blest with Ridley, want Apollo's Aid.
Here Virtue reigns, and o'er the fruitful Land
Religion walks, with Freedom Hand in Hand;
His little Flock the Pious Priest informs,
And ev'ry Breast with Heav'n-born Doctrine warms,
Soft flows his Stream of Eloquence along,
And Truths Divine come mended from his Tongue.
Here the known Bounty of the Place we blest,
And to our Number join'd the Chearful Priest.
Thro' ancient Elmham next our Way we take,
And gravely nodding wise Reflections make;
How strongest Things destructive Time o'erturns,
And the waste Town its ravish'd Mitre mourns;
Mitre! repeats the Priest with simp'ring Leer,
'Twill fit at Norwich full as well as here.
(No Verse can flow where Papal Slav'ry reigns)
Weston! whose Groves not envy Pindus' Shade,
Nor blest with Ridley, want Apollo's Aid.
Here Virtue reigns, and o'er the fruitful Land
Religion walks, with Freedom Hand in Hand;
His little Flock the Pious Priest informs,
And ev'ry Breast with Heav'n-born Doctrine warms,
31
And Truths Divine come mended from his Tongue.
Here the known Bounty of the Place we blest,
And to our Number join'd the Chearful Priest.
Thro' ancient Elmham next our Way we take,
And gravely nodding wise Reflections make;
How strongest Things destructive Time o'erturns,
And the waste Town its ravish'd Mitre mourns;
Mitre! repeats the Priest with simp'ring Leer,
'Twill fit at Norwich full as well as here.
But now, my Muse, in Blushes hide thy Face,
Nor deign the next vile Town in Verse a Place,
Unless thouc anst indite in Blackmore's Strain,
And say, we call'd full hungry at the Swan,
But found not Hay for Horse, nor Meat for Man.
Dire Hunger! that with Meagre Visage stalks,
And never fails to cross the Poet's Walks,
But three short Miles soon brought us bounteous Aid,
And Mileham's Fulness Brisley's Want o'er paid,
See! the gay Unicorn the Wood adorn,
Fair sign of Plenty with his Iv'ry Horn!
Here Ceres spread her Fruits with lavish Hand,
And Bacchus laughing waited our Command.
Nor deign the next vile Town in Verse a Place,
Unless thouc anst indite in Blackmore's Strain,
And say, we call'd full hungry at the Swan,
But found not Hay for Horse, nor Meat for Man.
Dire Hunger! that with Meagre Visage stalks,
And never fails to cross the Poet's Walks,
32
And Mileham's Fulness Brisley's Want o'er paid,
See! the gay Unicorn the Wood adorn,
Fair sign of Plenty with his Iv'ry Horn!
Here Ceres spread her Fruits with lavish Hand,
And Bacchus laughing waited our Command.
Hence pleas'd and satisfied we take our Road,
And sometimes laugh and talk, but oftner nod.
Yet this soft Indolence not long we kept,
But wak'd to see where others faster slept;
Where Coke's remains beneath the Marble rot,
His Cases and Distinctions all forgot;
His Body honour'd and to Fame consign'd,
For Virtues flowing from th' immortal Mind.
What wou'd avail this sumptuous Mass of Stone,
Were he not from his Works for ever known?
Let the Survivors of such great Men's Dust,
Ne'er think to add to Virtue by a Bust;
If false, Posterity will find the Lie,
If true, without it, it will never die,
But thro' succeeding Ages shine the same,
Or from some Leicester catch a brighter Flame.
And sometimes laugh and talk, but oftner nod.
Yet this soft Indolence not long we kept,
But wak'd to see where others faster slept;
Where Coke's remains beneath the Marble rot,
His Cases and Distinctions all forgot;
His Body honour'd and to Fame consign'd,
For Virtues flowing from th' immortal Mind.
33
Were he not from his Works for ever known?
Let the Survivors of such great Men's Dust,
Ne'er think to add to Virtue by a Bust;
If false, Posterity will find the Lie,
If true, without it, it will never die,
But thro' succeeding Ages shine the same,
Or from some Leicester catch a brighter Flame.
But farewell Death, and Tombs, and mould'ring Urns,
Our Eye with Joy on neighb'ring Raynham turns;
Where Pleasures undecaying seem to dwell,
Such as the Happy in Elysium feel,
Where Heroes, Statesmen, and the virtuous Croud,
Receive the great Reward of being Good.
Such Pleasures ev'n on Earth had Heav'n ordain'd,
For him who once our tott'ring State sustain'd;
Who join'd the glorious Freedom-loving Crew,
Fixt to great Cæsar what was Cæsar's Due,
And then, Dictator-like, to Fields withdrew.
Fair ran the Current of his Age, serene
As the pure Lake that bounds the various Scene.
Here whate'er Nature beauteous boasts we find,
Charming when sep'rate, but more charming join'd,
Pleasures, tho' chang'd, we meet where'er we rove,
On Hill, in Dale, on Plain, in shady Grove;
Here swell the Hillocks crown'd with golden Grain,
There, at their Feet, fair flows the liquid Plain,
O'er those the Larks extend their labour'd Note,
On this the Swans in snowy Grandeur float.
Our Eye with Joy on neighb'ring Raynham turns;
Where Pleasures undecaying seem to dwell,
Such as the Happy in Elysium feel,
Where Heroes, Statesmen, and the virtuous Croud,
Receive the great Reward of being Good.
Such Pleasures ev'n on Earth had Heav'n ordain'd,
For him who once our tott'ring State sustain'd;
34
Fixt to great Cæsar what was Cæsar's Due,
And then, Dictator-like, to Fields withdrew.
Fair ran the Current of his Age, serene
As the pure Lake that bounds the various Scene.
Here whate'er Nature beauteous boasts we find,
Charming when sep'rate, but more charming join'd,
Pleasures, tho' chang'd, we meet where'er we rove,
On Hill, in Dale, on Plain, in shady Grove;
Here swell the Hillocks crown'd with golden Grain,
There, at their Feet, fair flows the liquid Plain,
O'er those the Larks extend their labour'd Note,
On this the Swans in snowy Grandeur float.
To Houghton then we take our pleasing Way,
Thrice happy Bound'ry of a well-spent Day;
Here chearful Plenty met the wearied Guest,
And splendid Welcome doubly crown'd our Rest.
Thrice happy Bound'ry of a well-spent Day;
Here chearful Plenty met the wearied Guest,
And splendid Welcome doubly crown'd our Rest.
35
Thou then, Apollo, aid the Poet's lay,
Thy Beams gave Lustre to the following Day;
When in one House more Beauties join'd we found,
Than e'er thou feest in all thy glorious Round;
Where Walpole plac'd with curious happy Cost,
Whate'er Magnificence or Taste can boast,
Where, in what Building noblest has, we find
Preserv'd, what Painting liveliest e'er designed.
See! Sculpture too her Beauties here disclose,
Such as old Phidias taught and Rysbrack knows.
Laocoon here in Pain still seems to breath,
While round his Limbs the pois'nous Serpents wreath,
Life strugling seems thro ev'ry Limb to pass,
And dying Torments animate the Brass.
Thy Beams gave Lustre to the following Day;
When in one House more Beauties join'd we found,
Than e'er thou feest in all thy glorious Round;
Where Walpole plac'd with curious happy Cost,
Whate'er Magnificence or Taste can boast,
Where, in what Building noblest has, we find
Preserv'd, what Painting liveliest e'er designed.
See! Sculpture too her Beauties here disclose,
Such as old Phidias taught and Rysbrack knows.
Laocoon here in Pain still seems to breath,
While round his Limbs the pois'nous Serpents wreath,
Life strugling seems thro ev'ry Limb to pass,
And dying Torments animate the Brass.
The Pencil's Pow'r the proud Salon displays,
And struck with Wonder on the Paint we gaze.
And struck with Wonder on the Paint we gaze.
36
See! the proud Rabbins
at the sumptuous Board,
Frown on the Wretch who kneels before her Lord,
And the rich Unguent, in Devotion meet,
Pours, mixt with Tears, on her Redeemer's Feet.
In vain with Hypocritic Rage they glow,
While Mercy smooths the Heav'nly Stranger's Brow,
He the true Penitent with Ease descries,
Sees the Heart speaking in the melting Eyes,
Bids ev'ry Tear with full Effect to stream,
And from his Vengeance all her Sins redeem.
Frown on the Wretch who kneels before her Lord,
And the rich Unguent, in Devotion meet,
Pours, mixt with Tears, on her Redeemer's Feet.
In vain with Hypocritic Rage they glow,
While Mercy smooths the Heav'nly Stranger's Brow,
He the true Penitent with Ease descries,
Sees the Heart speaking in the melting Eyes,
Bids ev'ry Tear with full Effect to stream,
And from his Vengeance all her Sins redeem.
On the next
Cloth behold Vandyke display,
Celestial Innocence, immortal Day,
His Pencil here no more with Nature vies,
Above her plastic Pow'r his Genius flies;
Soars on Promethean Wing aloft, and there
Steals Forms which Heav'n-born Cherubs only wear;
Pours Airs divine into the human Frame,
Darts thro' his Childrens Eyes Seraphic Flame,
While o'er the sacred Forms such Beauties reign,
As not belie the Saint-hood they contain.
Celestial Innocence, immortal Day,
His Pencil here no more with Nature vies,
Above her plastic Pow'r his Genius flies;
37
Steals Forms which Heav'n-born Cherubs only wear;
Pours Airs divine into the human Frame,
Darts thro' his Childrens Eyes Seraphic Flame,
While o'er the sacred Forms such Beauties reign,
As not belie the Saint-hood they contain.
Behold! where
Stephen fainting yields his Breath,
By great Le Sueur again condemn'd to Death;
With strange Surprize we view the horrid Deed,
And then to Pity melted turn the Head,
Lest, as Spectators of the Martyr's Fall,
We innocently share the Crime of Saul.
Here too Albani's Pencil charms the Eye;
Morellio here unfolds the azure Sky,
Sweet modest Charms the Virgin's Cheek adorn,
To Heav'n, on Wings of smiling Seraphs born.
By great Le Sueur again condemn'd to Death;
With strange Surprize we view the horrid Deed,
And then to Pity melted turn the Head,
Lest, as Spectators of the Martyr's Fall,
We innocently share the Crime of Saul.
Here too Albani's Pencil charms the Eye;
Morellio here unfolds the azure Sky,
Sweet modest Charms the Virgin's Cheek adorn,
To Heav'n, on Wings of smiling Seraphs born.
38
The next gay Room is known by Carlo's
Name,
Fair Mausoleum of Maratti's Fame!
Such Strokes, such equal Charms each Picture boasts
We venture not to say which pleases most.
Thus on the Galaxy with Joy we gaze,
Nor know which Star emits the brightest Rays.
Yet if beyond himself he ever flew,
If e'er beyond a Mortal's touch he drew,
Amidst the Glow that from that Purple breaks,
Look on yon Pope , nor wonder if he speaks.
With length of Days and Fame Maratti blest,
Ne'er wept departed Genius from his Breast;
But when just drooping, sinking to the Ground,
Spread sportive Loves, and laughing Cherubs round;
E'en Death approaching, smil'd, and made a stand,
And gently stole the Pencil from his Hand.
Thus falls the Sun, and, as he fades away,
Gilds all th' Horizon with a parting Ray.
Fair Mausoleum of Maratti's Fame!
Such Strokes, such equal Charms each Picture boasts
We venture not to say which pleases most.
Thus on the Galaxy with Joy we gaze,
Nor know which Star emits the brightest Rays.
Yet if beyond himself he ever flew,
If e'er beyond a Mortal's touch he drew,
Amidst the Glow that from that Purple breaks,
Look on yon Pope , nor wonder if he speaks.
With length of Days and Fame Maratti blest,
Ne'er wept departed Genius from his Breast;
But when just drooping, sinking to the Ground,
Spread sportive Loves, and laughing Cherubs round;
E'en Death approaching, smil'd, and made a stand,
And gently stole the Pencil from his Hand.
39
Gilds all th' Horizon with a parting Ray.
Next on the gorgeous Cabinet we gaze,
Which the full Elegance of Paint displays,
In strong Expressions of each Masters Mind,
The various Beauties of this Art we find;
Here vast Invention, there the just Design,
Here the bold Stroke, and there the perfect Line,
With Ease unequal'd here the Drawing flows,
And there inimitable Colour glows.
With Summer here the Cloth Bassano warms,
There locks the World in Winter's hoary Arms,
On the warm View we look with pleas'd amaze,
Then turn to Frost, and shudder as we gaze.
Which the full Elegance of Paint displays,
In strong Expressions of each Masters Mind,
The various Beauties of this Art we find;
Here vast Invention, there the just Design,
Here the bold Stroke, and there the perfect Line,
With Ease unequal'd here the Drawing flows,
And there inimitable Colour glows.
With Summer here the Cloth Bassano warms,
There locks the World in Winter's hoary Arms,
On the warm View we look with pleas'd amaze,
Then turn to Frost, and shudder as we gaze.
Mirth unrestrain'd in Rusticks humble Cells
On chearful Teniers' laughing Canvas dwells,
Nor ever are his warm Expressions faint,
But laughing we enjoy the Comic Paint;
'Till Scenes more horrid break upon our Eye,
Effects of Borgognone's too cruel Joy.
Strong was his Fancy, and his Genius good,
But bred in Camps, he mix'd his Tints in Blood;
Alternate bore the Pencil and the Sword,
And the same Hands that fought, the Fight record.
On chearful Teniers' laughing Canvas dwells,
40
But laughing we enjoy the Comic Paint;
'Till Scenes more horrid break upon our Eye,
Effects of Borgognone's too cruel Joy.
Strong was his Fancy, and his Genius good,
But bred in Camps, he mix'd his Tints in Blood;
Alternate bore the Pencil and the Sword,
And the same Hands that fought, the Fight record.
But lo! and let the pious Tear be shed,
On the sad Cloth the World's Great Master dead.
The Mother see! in Grief amazing drown'd,
And Sorrow more than mortal spread around.
What striking Attitudes! what strong Relief!
We see, we wonder at, we feel the Grief.
Who cou'd such Pow'r of speaking Paint employ?
Own, Parma, own thy darling Son with Joy;
Still to his Memory fresh Trophies rear,
Whose Life, insatiate War itself cou'd spare.
No Arms he needed 'midst the fatal Strife,
But to his potent Pencil ow'd his Life,
The wond'ring Soldier dropp'd the lifted Sword,
Nor stain'd those Hands he only not ador'd.
On the sad Cloth the World's Great Master dead.
The Mother see! in Grief amazing drown'd,
And Sorrow more than mortal spread around.
What striking Attitudes! what strong Relief!
We see, we wonder at, we feel the Grief.
Who cou'd such Pow'r of speaking Paint employ?
Own, Parma, own thy darling Son with Joy;
Still to his Memory fresh Trophies rear,
Whose Life, insatiate War itself cou'd spare.
41
But to his potent Pencil ow'd his Life,
The wond'ring Soldier dropp'd the lifted Sword,
Nor stain'd those Hands he only not ador'd.
Now, as Æneas in the Stygian Glades
Wond'ring beheld departed Heroes Shades,
Amidst the Forms of Worthies dead we range,
By eternizing Paint preserv'd from Change.
Here Law and Learning dwell in Wandesford's Face,
While valiant Whartons shine with martial Grace;
And the soft Females of the Race declare
That these no braver were, than those were fair;
In garter'd Glory drest here Danby stands
And Laud with Air imperious still commands.
Wond'ring beheld departed Heroes Shades,
Amidst the Forms of Worthies dead we range,
By eternizing Paint preserv'd from Change.
Here Law and Learning dwell in Wandesford's Face,
While valiant Whartons shine with martial Grace;
And the soft Females of the Race declare
That these no braver were, than those were fair;
In garter'd Glory drest here Danby stands
And Laud with Air imperious still commands.
42
The next great
Form with melancholy Eye,
And inauspicious Valour seems to sigh.
Peace to his Soul! howe'er 'gainst Right he fought,
Be in his dreadful Doom his Sin forgot;
Too much misled to leave his Honour clear,
Too wretched not to claim a gen'rous Tear!
A Wretch, to Virtue's still a sacred thing!
How much more sacred then, a murder'd King!
But be our Wrath, as it deserves, apply'd
To his Two Guides, still closest to his Side,
Laud and the Queen, whose fatal Conduct shew,
What bigot Zeal, and headstrong Pride cou'd do.
And inauspicious Valour seems to sigh.
Peace to his Soul! howe'er 'gainst Right he fought,
Be in his dreadful Doom his Sin forgot;
Too much misled to leave his Honour clear,
Too wretched not to claim a gen'rous Tear!
A Wretch, to Virtue's still a sacred thing!
How much more sacred then, a murder'd King!
But be our Wrath, as it deserves, apply'd
To his Two Guides, still closest to his Side,
Laud and the Queen, whose fatal Conduct shew,
What bigot Zeal, and headstrong Pride cou'd do.
But see where Kneller
now our Eye commands
To pictur'd Kings, familiar to his Hands
Kings to support a free-born People made,
Kings that but rul'd to bless the Lands they sway'd.
Sov'reigns, whose inoppressive Pow'r has shown
Freedom and Monarchy, well-join'd, are One.
To pictur'd Kings, familiar to his Hands
Kings to support a free-born People made,
Kings that but rul'd to bless the Lands they sway'd.
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Freedom and Monarchy, well-join'd, are One.
See mighty William's
fierce determin'd Eye,
Freedom to save, or in her Cause to die;
As when on Boyne's important Banks he stood,
And, as his Deeds surpriz'd the swelling Flood,
All torn and mangled false Religion fled,
And crush'd Oppression snarl'd beneath his Tread.
Freedom to save, or in her Cause to die;
As when on Boyne's important Banks he stood,
And, as his Deeds surpriz'd the swelling Flood,
All torn and mangled false Religion fled,
And crush'd Oppression snarl'd beneath his Tread.
Next, in the steddy Lines of
Brunswick's Face,
Majestick manly Honesty we trace;
Pleas'd, as on Sarum's Plain with glad accord,
When willing Thousands hail'd their new-come Lord,
And (far beyond a Tyrant's baleful Glee)
The King rejoic'd to find his People free.
Good Prince, whose Age forsook thy native Land
To bless our Albion with thy mild Command,
Long may this sacred Form of Thee remain,
Here plac'd by him whose Counsels bless'd thy Reign,
And ever may his Sons with Joy relate,
That He as Faithful was as Thou wert Great.
Majestick manly Honesty we trace;
Pleas'd, as on Sarum's Plain with glad accord,
When willing Thousands hail'd their new-come Lord,
And (far beyond a Tyrant's baleful Glee)
The King rejoic'd to find his People free.
Good Prince, whose Age forsook thy native Land
To bless our Albion with thy mild Command,
44
Here plac'd by him whose Counsels bless'd thy Reign,
And ever may his Sons with Joy relate,
That He as Faithful was as Thou wert Great.
But now, my Muse, to sob'rer Pomp descend,
And to the cool Arcade my Steps attend.
Here, when the Summer Sun spreads round his Ray,
Beneath the bending Arch young Zephyrs play,
And, when it farther from our Orb retires,
Old Vulcan smiling lights his chearful Fires.
Hither the jolly Hunter's Crew resort,
Talk o'er the Day, and re-enjoy their Sport.
Here too, with Brow unbent, and cheerful Air,
The mighty Statesman oft forgot his Care;
Knew Friendship's Joys, and still attentive hung,
On Pelham, Edgcumbe, Devonshire, or Young,
In Senates form'd or private Life to please,
There shar'd his Toil, and here partook his Ease.
And to the cool Arcade my Steps attend.
Here, when the Summer Sun spreads round his Ray,
Beneath the bending Arch young Zephyrs play,
And, when it farther from our Orb retires,
Old Vulcan smiling lights his chearful Fires.
Hither the jolly Hunter's Crew resort,
Talk o'er the Day, and re-enjoy their Sport.
Here too, with Brow unbent, and cheerful Air,
The mighty Statesman oft forgot his Care;
Knew Friendship's Joys, and still attentive hung,
On Pelham, Edgcumbe, Devonshire, or Young,
In Senates form'd or private Life to please,
There shar'd his Toil, and here partook his Ease.
45
Here be thy stay, my Muse, tho' pleas'd, not long,
Thy Sister Painting claims again my Song,
Where thron'd in State the Goddess we descry
As the gay Gall'ry opens on our Eye.
Here in her utmost Pomp well-pleas'd she reigns,
Nor weeps her absent Rome or Lombard plains;
Here the great Masters Genius still survives
Breaths in the Paint, and on the Canvas lives.
What e'er in Nature's forming Pow'r is plac'd,
Fair to the Eye and luscious to the Taste,
Is by our cheated Sense with Joy perceiv'd,
Nor but by touching are we undeceiv'd.
Pausing and loath to be convinc'd we stand,
Lest the fair Fruit should suffer from our Hand,
Lest the press'd Plum our ruder touch should own,
Or swelling Peach bewail its injur'd down;
Less dare we to the Fish or Fowl draw near,
Tho' tempting, strongly guarded they appear,
Frighted we scarce can brook the horrid Looks
Of Dogs, and snarling Cats, and swearing Cooks.
What Strokes, what Colours Sneyders could command!
How great the Power of Rubens' daring Hand!
Immortal Rubens! whose capacious Mind,
Of the vast Art to no one Part confin'd,
Pierc'd like the Sun's quick Beam, all Nature thro';
And whatsoe'er the Goddess form'd he drew.
See! Mola next the Roman Deeds displays,
That bid our Hearts be Patriot as we gaze.
Here Julio's wond'rous Buildings still appear,
And swelling Domes still seem to rise in Air.
Thy Sister Painting claims again my Song,
Where thron'd in State the Goddess we descry
As the gay Gall'ry opens on our Eye.
Here in her utmost Pomp well-pleas'd she reigns,
Nor weeps her absent Rome or Lombard plains;
Here the great Masters Genius still survives
Breaths in the Paint, and on the Canvas lives.
What e'er in Nature's forming Pow'r is plac'd,
Fair to the Eye and luscious to the Taste,
Is by our cheated Sense with Joy perceiv'd,
Nor but by touching are we undeceiv'd.
Pausing and loath to be convinc'd we stand,
Lest the fair Fruit should suffer from our Hand,
Lest the press'd Plum our ruder touch should own,
Or swelling Peach bewail its injur'd down;
46
Tho' tempting, strongly guarded they appear,
Frighted we scarce can brook the horrid Looks
Of Dogs, and snarling Cats, and swearing Cooks.
What Strokes, what Colours Sneyders could command!
How great the Power of Rubens' daring Hand!
Immortal Rubens! whose capacious Mind,
Of the vast Art to no one Part confin'd,
Pierc'd like the Sun's quick Beam, all Nature thro';
And whatsoe'er the Goddess form'd he drew.
See! Mola next the Roman Deeds displays,
That bid our Hearts be Patriot as we gaze.
Here Julio's wond'rous Buildings still appear,
And swelling Domes still seem to rise in Air.
Great Shade of
Poussin! from the Muse receive;
All the renown a Verse, like hers, can give.
Genius sublime! to reach thy soaring Praise,
A Muse like Maro's should renew her Lays;
Rival of Raphael! such thy wond'rous Line,
'Tis next to his; and only not divine.
All the renown a Verse, like hers, can give.
47
A Muse like Maro's should renew her Lays;
Rival of Raphael! such thy wond'rous Line,
'Tis next to his; and only not divine.
Ye Maids, employ'd in spotless Vesta's sight,
Lend me a Beam of your Eternal Light;
Full on yon' Picture throw the sacred Ray,
And high Imperial Chastity display.
See! the great Roman on his martial Throne,
Outdo what e'er in War his Arms had done,
See him rise far beyond a Soldier's Fame,
And Afric's Victor but a second Name.
Valiant and Great he trod the Field of Blood,
But here is Virtuous, Bountiful, and Good;
Resists the utmost Pow'r of Female Charms,
Feels all their Force, yet gives 'em from his Arms,
And Lord of all the Passions of his Breast,
Defeats e'en Love, and makes his Rival blest.
Wonderful Strokes, that thro' the Eye impart,
Such various Motions to the human Heart!
Thro' it a Thousand floating Passions move,
We pity, wonder, weep, rejoice and love.
Lend me a Beam of your Eternal Light;
Full on yon' Picture throw the sacred Ray,
And high Imperial Chastity display.
See! the great Roman on his martial Throne,
Outdo what e'er in War his Arms had done,
See him rise far beyond a Soldier's Fame,
And Afric's Victor but a second Name.
Valiant and Great he trod the Field of Blood,
But here is Virtuous, Bountiful, and Good;
Resists the utmost Pow'r of Female Charms,
Feels all their Force, yet gives 'em from his Arms,
And Lord of all the Passions of his Breast,
Defeats e'en Love, and makes his Rival blest.
48
Such various Motions to the human Heart!
Thro' it a Thousand floating Passions move,
We pity, wonder, weep, rejoice and love.
The moral Tale thus exquisitely told,
His Colours now diviner Truths unfold;
At Horeb's Rock in sacred Awe we stand,
And pencil'd Miracles our Faith command.
The mighty Law-giver his Rod displays,
And the tough Flint his potent Touch obeys;
Quick into Streams dissolves the solid Stone,
And floats the Waste with Waters not its own.
See there the shrivel'd Cheek, or languid Eye,
Swell into Health, or lighten into Joy;
As eager, crouding in the Draught they join,
Reviving Thousands bless the Stroke Divine.
But thou, fair Damsel, with distinguish'd Worth,
Emblem of filial Piety, stand forth.
Forgot her own consuming inward Fire,
She lifts untouch'd the Vessel to her Sire;
With the cool Draught his heaving Breast relieves,
And, as she sooths his Pain, her own deceives.
His Colours now diviner Truths unfold;
At Horeb's Rock in sacred Awe we stand,
And pencil'd Miracles our Faith command.
The mighty Law-giver his Rod displays,
And the tough Flint his potent Touch obeys;
Quick into Streams dissolves the solid Stone,
And floats the Waste with Waters not its own.
See there the shrivel'd Cheek, or languid Eye,
Swell into Health, or lighten into Joy;
As eager, crouding in the Draught they join,
Reviving Thousands bless the Stroke Divine.
But thou, fair Damsel, with distinguish'd Worth,
Emblem of filial Piety, stand forth.
49
She lifts untouch'd the Vessel to her Sire;
With the cool Draught his heaving Breast relieves,
And, as she sooths his Pain, her own deceives.
With
Scenes too sad Salvator strives to please,
Since what creates our Wonder spoils our Ease;
We give the wretched Prodigal a Tear,
And wish his kind forgiving Father near.
Since what creates our Wonder spoils our Ease;
We give the wretched Prodigal a Tear,
And wish his kind forgiving Father near.
As on Avernus' Banks the Heroe stood,
Scar'd at the dreary Darkness of the Wood,
'Till thro' the Leaves fair shot th' auspicious Light,
And with the branching Gold reliev'd his Sight;
So rescu'd from the horrid Scene we stand,
By the sweet Effluence of Guido's Hand.
Soft to the Sight his ev'ry Colour flows,
As to the Scent the Fragrance of the Rose.
Pure Beams of Light around the Virgin play,
Clad in the Brightness of celestial Day;
Be as they may the Broils of fierce Divines,
Pure and unspotted here at least she shines.
Scar'd at the dreary Darkness of the Wood,
'Till thro' the Leaves fair shot th' auspicious Light,
And with the branching Gold reliev'd his Sight;
So rescu'd from the horrid Scene we stand,
By the sweet Effluence of Guido's Hand.
50
As to the Scent the Fragrance of the Rose.
Pure Beams of Light around the Virgin play,
Clad in the Brightness of celestial Day;
Be as they may the Broils of fierce Divines,
Pure and unspotted here at least she shines.
Thee too,
Lorraine, the well pleas'd Muse shou'd name,
Nor e'er forget Domenichini's Fame,
But sudden Sorrow stops the flowing Line,
And not one Smile is found among the Nine.
Behold where all the Charms that Heav'n could give,
Blended in one sweet Form still seem to live;
Then sink to Tears, nor stop the bursting Groan,
When thou art told that all those Charms are gone.
Relentless Death still forcing to the Grave
The Good, the Fair, the Virtuous, and the Brave,
Here the whole Malice of his Pow'r put on,
And aim'd a Dart that slew them all in one.
How Fair, how Good, how Virtuous was the Dame,
A thousand Hearts in Anguish still proclaim,
How brave her Soul, against all Fear how try'd,
Sad fatal Proof she gave us when she dy'd.
Nor e'er forget Domenichini's Fame,
But sudden Sorrow stops the flowing Line,
And not one Smile is found among the Nine.
Behold where all the Charms that Heav'n could give,
Blended in one sweet Form still seem to live;
51
When thou art told that all those Charms are gone.
Relentless Death still forcing to the Grave
The Good, the Fair, the Virtuous, and the Brave,
Here the whole Malice of his Pow'r put on,
And aim'd a Dart that slew them all in one.
How Fair, how Good, how Virtuous was the Dame,
A thousand Hearts in Anguish still proclaim,
How brave her Soul, against all Fear how try'd,
Sad fatal Proof she gave us when she dy'd.
Thou then, my Friend, no farther Verse demand,
Full swells my Breast, and trembling shakes my Hand,
And these sad Lines conclude my mournful Lay,
Since we too once must fall to Death a Prey,
May we like Walpole meet the fatal Day.
Full swells my Breast, and trembling shakes my Hand,
And these sad Lines conclude my mournful Lay,
Since we too once must fall to Death a Prey,
May we like Walpole meet the fatal Day.
a Village, in the Church of which is the Burial Place, of the noble Family of Coke, and a very fine marble Monument of the Right Honourable Sir Edward Coke Lord Chief Justice of the Kings Bench in the Reign of King James I. and Ancestor to the present Right Honourable Thomas Earl of Leicester.
The Picture of Mary Magdalen washing Christ's Feet, by Sir Peter Paul Rubens, born at Antwerp 1577. and died 1640.
The holy Family with a Dance of Angels, by Sir Anthony Vandike a Scholar of Rubens, born at Antwerp, 1599. and died 1641.
The Green-Velvet Drawing is called the Carlo-Marat Room, from being fill'd with Pictures of that Master and his Scholars.
Carlo Maratti was born at Rome, 1625, was a Scholar of Andrea Sacchi and died 1713.
The Bassans, Father and Sons, were very eminent Landskape Painters, about the Middle and towards the End of the sixteenth Century.
Francis Mazzuoli, commonly called Parmegiano, was born 1504. and died 1540. There is a Story of this Master at the taking of Parma, like that of Archimedes, and also like that of Protogenes, at the taking of Rhodes, while he was painting his famous Ialysus.
In the Yellow Drawing are Portraits by Vandyke, of Lord Chief Baron Wandesford, Lord and Lady Wharton, their Daughters, Archbishop Laud, King Charles the First and his Queen. The Portrait of the Earl of Danby, now hangs in the Great Parlour.
Here are the Stories of Scipio's Continence, and of Moses striking the Rock, by Nicolò Poussin, born 1594, and died 1665.
A very capital Picture of the Prodigal Son on his Knees at Prayers amidst the Herd of Swine, by Salvator Rosa, born 1614, and died 1673.
| A collection of original poems and translations | |