 | A collection of original poems and translations |  |
107
In Praise of Water. A. D. 1736.
Perish then Bacchus, and his darling Vine,And bold Lycurgus, let thy Task be mine,
And freely I'll the Godhead's Wrath endure,
Whatever Wounds he gives my Theme can cure;
And arm'd with Water I'll maintain the Field,
'Gainst him who made the Earth-born Giants yield.
For sure Apollo will my Cause avow,
Who taught Castalia's temp'rate Fount to flow,
Who only drinks of Aganippe's Stream,
That knows no Warmth but from his own pure Beam.
Hail then, ye limpid Streams, that sweetly glide,
Daughters of Pinsley's ever-flowing Tide.
But from your Sire in happy Error speed
Pleas'd to be lost in Kingsland's verdant Mead;
109
Since Maro's dead, but tuneful Gallus lives:
And, as you sweetly murm'ring glide along,
Repays each Murmur with a sweeter Song;
Nor is the Price beyond the Gifts you bring,
Tho' sweet as Orpheus' self he tunes the String;
Soft Pleasures sport along the Shores you lave,
And Health comes rolling on in ev'ry Wave.
Let golden Tagus boast his flowing Wealth:
Base Dross, what art thou, when compar'd with Health?
Let him too boast the Vines that round him stand,
And with their Clusters redden all the Land,
Bless the near Influence of the Mid-day Star,
And think the Grape inspires his Sons to War.
Vain Boast! for Strangers would his Vintage flow,
And for proud Spain his Purple Harvests grow,
Did not the temp'rate North its succour lend,
And Britain's watry Sons his Realms defend.
111
That drunken Bacchus was to Mars a Friend;
True Courage needs no adscititious Charm,
Be the Head coolest when the Heart's most warm.
No drunken Heroe e'er maintain'd his Ground,
'Twas Water kept Achilles free from Wound,
By that inspir'd the naked Spartan stood,
And made a second Bath of hostile Blood.
As vainly do their Legends strive to prove
That Bacchus is a pow'rful Friend to Love.
What should endear the Swain to Venus' Arms
But that fair Element which gave her Charms?
How gain'd the rugged Mars the temp'rate Dame
But that from Thrace the temp'rate Godhead came?
And who e'er Bacchus for a Lover took
But one poor Girl whom all the World forsook?
That Bacchus is a pow'rful Friend to Love.
What should endear the Swain to Venus' Arms
But that fair Element which gave her Charms?
How gain'd the rugged Mars the temp'rate Dame
But that from Thrace the temp'rate Godhead came?
And who e'er Bacchus for a Lover took
But one poor Girl whom all the World forsook?
Then to th' inspiring Streams, ye Swains, retire;
'Tis Water gives the active Youth desire,
And, cool itself, gives Heroes all their Fire.
'Tis Water gives the active Youth desire,
And, cool itself, gives Heroes all their Fire.
| A collection of original poems and translations | |