The Poetical Works Of the Right Honourable Charles [Montagu] Late Earl of Halifax. With His Lordship's Life including the History of his Times. The Second Edition |
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 | The Poetical Works Of the Right Honourable Charles [Montagu] |  |
1
ON THE Earl of HALIFAX's POEMS.
By Mr.
Addison.
I'm tir'd with Rhyming, and wou'd fain give o'er,
But Justice still demands one Labour more:
The Noble Montague remains un-nam'd,
For Wit, for Humour, and for Judgment fam'd;
2
In Numbers such as Dorset's self might use.
How negligently Graceful he unreins
His Verse, and writes in loose Familiar Strains;
How Nassau's God-like Acts adorn his Lines,
And all the Heroe in full Glory shines.
We see his Army set in just Array,
And Boyne's dy'd Waves run Purple to the Sea.
Nor Simois choak'd with Men, and Arms, and Blood;
Nor rapid Xanthus Celebrated Flood,
Shall longer be the Poet's highest Themes,
Tho' Gods and Heroes fought, promiscuous in their Streams.
But now, to Nassau's Secret Councils rais'd,
He Aids the Heroe, whom before he Prais'd.
See, An Account of the greatest English-Poets. In the 4th Volume of Miscellany Poems, publish'd Ann. 1694.
POEMS ON Several Occasions.
By the Right Honourable Charles Earl of Halifax.
1
On the Death of his Most Sacred Majesty King Charles II.
Farewel, Great Charles, Monarch of Blest Renown,
The best Good Man that ever fill'd a Throne:
Whom Nature, as her highest Pattern, wrought,
And mixt both Sexes Virtues in one Draught.
Wisdom for Councils, Bravery in War,
With all the mild Good-Nature of the Fair.
The Woman's Sweetness, temper'd Manly Wit,
And Loving Power, did crown'd with Meekness sit;
His awful Person Reverence engag'd,
Which mild Address and Tenderness asswag'd:
Thus the Almighty Gracious King above,
Does both command our Fear, and win our Love.
The best Good Man that ever fill'd a Throne:
Whom Nature, as her highest Pattern, wrought,
And mixt both Sexes Virtues in one Draught.
2
With all the mild Good-Nature of the Fair.
The Woman's Sweetness, temper'd Manly Wit,
And Loving Power, did crown'd with Meekness sit;
His awful Person Reverence engag'd,
Which mild Address and Tenderness asswag'd:
Thus the Almighty Gracious King above,
Does both command our Fear, and win our Love.
With Wonders born, by Miracles preserv'd,
A Heavenly Host the Infant's Cradle serv'd.
And Men his healing Empire's Omen read,
When Sun with Stars, and Day with Night, agreed.
His Youth for Valorous Patience was renown'd,
Like David, Persecuted first, then Crown'd.
Lov'd in all Courts, admir'd where e're he came,
At once our Nation's Glory, and its Shame:
They blest the Isle, where such great Spirits dwell,
Abhorr'd the Men, that could such Worth expel.
To spare our Lives, he meekly did defeat
Those Sauls, whom wandring Asses made so great;
Waiting till Heaven's Election should be shown,
And the Almighty should his Unction own.
And own he did—His powerful Arm display'd,
And Israel, the Belov'd of God, obey'd;
Call'd by his Peoples Tears, He came, He eas'd
The Groaning Nation, the Black Storms appeas'd;
Did greater Blessings, than He took, afford,
England it self was more, than He, restor'd.
Unhappy Albion, by strange Ills opprest,
In various Fevers tost, could find no Rest:
Quite spent and wearied, to His Arms she fled,
And rested on His Shoulders, her fair bending Head.
A Heavenly Host the Infant's Cradle serv'd.
And Men his healing Empire's Omen read,
When Sun with Stars, and Day with Night, agreed.
His Youth for Valorous Patience was renown'd,
Like David, Persecuted first, then Crown'd.
Lov'd in all Courts, admir'd where e're he came,
At once our Nation's Glory, and its Shame:
They blest the Isle, where such great Spirits dwell,
Abhorr'd the Men, that could such Worth expel.
3
Those Sauls, whom wandring Asses made so great;
Waiting till Heaven's Election should be shown,
And the Almighty should his Unction own.
And own he did—His powerful Arm display'd,
And Israel, the Belov'd of God, obey'd;
Call'd by his Peoples Tears, He came, He eas'd
The Groaning Nation, the Black Storms appeas'd;
Did greater Blessings, than He took, afford,
England it self was more, than He, restor'd.
Unhappy Albion, by strange Ills opprest,
In various Fevers tost, could find no Rest:
Quite spent and wearied, to His Arms she fled,
And rested on His Shoulders, her fair bending Head.
In Conquests mild, He came from Exile kind,
No Climes, no Provocations, chang'd his Mind:
No Malice show'd, no Hate, Revenge, or Pride,
But rul'd as meekly, as His Father dy'd.
Eas'd us from endless Wars, made Discords cease,
Restor'd to Quiet, and maintain'd in Peace:
A mighty Series of new Time began,
And rowling Years in joyful Circles ran.
Then Wealth the City, Bus'ness fill'd the Port,
To Mirth our Tumults turn'd, our Wars to Sport:
Then Learning flourish'd, blooming Arts did spring,
And the glad Muses prun'd their drooping Wing.
Then did our flying Towers Improvement know,
Who now command as far, as Winds can blow.
With Canvass Wings round all the Globe they fly,
And, built by Charles's Art, all Storms defy:
To ev'ry Coast with ready Sails are hurl'd,
Fill us with Wealth, and with our Fame the World:
From whose Distractions Seas do us divide;
Their Riches here in floating Castles ride.
We reap the Swarthy Indian's Sweat and Toil,
Their Fruit, without the Mischiefs of their Soil.
Here in cool Shades their Gold and Pearls receive,
Free from the Heat, which does their Lustre give.
In Persian Silks, eat Eastern Spice; secure
From burning Fluxes, and their Calenture.
Under our Vines upon the peaceful Shore,
We see all Europe tost, hear Tempests roar,
Rapine, Sword, Wars, and Famine rage abroad,
While Charles their Host, like Jove from Ida, aw'd;
Us from our Foes, and from our selves did shield,
Our Towns from Tumults, and from Arms the Field.
For when bold Factions Goodness could disdain,
Unwillingly He us'd a straiter Rein:
In the still gentle Voice He lov'd to speak,
But could with Thunder harden'd Rebels break.
Yet though they wak'd the Laws, His tender Mind
Was undisturb'd, in Wrath severely kind.
Tempting His Power, and urging to assume;
Thus Jove in Love did Semele consume.
As the stout Oak, when round his Trunk the Vine
Does in soft Wreaths and amorous Foldings twine,
Easy and slight appears: the Winds from far
Summon their noisy Forces to the War;
But though so gentle seems his outward Form,
His hidden Strength out-braves the loudest Storm:
Firmer he stands, and boldly keeps the Field,
Showing stout Minds, when unprovok'd, are mild.
So when the Good Man made the Crowd presume,
He show'd himself, and did the King assume:
For Goodness in Excess may be a Sin,
Justice must tame, whom Mercy cannot win.
Thus Winter fixes the unstable Sea,
And teaches restless Water Constancy,
Which under the warm Influence of bright Days,
The fickle Motion of each Blast obeys.
To bridle Factions, stop Rebellion's Course,
By easy Methods, vanquish without Force,
Relieve the Good, bold stubborn Foes subdue,
Mildness in Wrath, Meekness in Anger shew,
Were Arts Great Charles's Prudence only knew.
To fright the Bad, thus awful Thunder rolls;
While the bright Bow secures the Faithful Souls.
No Climes, no Provocations, chang'd his Mind:
No Malice show'd, no Hate, Revenge, or Pride,
But rul'd as meekly, as His Father dy'd.
4
Restor'd to Quiet, and maintain'd in Peace:
A mighty Series of new Time began,
And rowling Years in joyful Circles ran.
Then Wealth the City, Bus'ness fill'd the Port,
To Mirth our Tumults turn'd, our Wars to Sport:
Then Learning flourish'd, blooming Arts did spring,
And the glad Muses prun'd their drooping Wing.
Then did our flying Towers Improvement know,
Who now command as far, as Winds can blow.
With Canvass Wings round all the Globe they fly,
And, built by Charles's Art, all Storms defy:
To ev'ry Coast with ready Sails are hurl'd,
Fill us with Wealth, and with our Fame the World:
From whose Distractions Seas do us divide;
Their Riches here in floating Castles ride.
We reap the Swarthy Indian's Sweat and Toil,
Their Fruit, without the Mischiefs of their Soil.
Here in cool Shades their Gold and Pearls receive,
Free from the Heat, which does their Lustre give.
5
From burning Fluxes, and their Calenture.
Under our Vines upon the peaceful Shore,
We see all Europe tost, hear Tempests roar,
Rapine, Sword, Wars, and Famine rage abroad,
While Charles their Host, like Jove from Ida, aw'd;
Us from our Foes, and from our selves did shield,
Our Towns from Tumults, and from Arms the Field.
For when bold Factions Goodness could disdain,
Unwillingly He us'd a straiter Rein:
In the still gentle Voice He lov'd to speak,
But could with Thunder harden'd Rebels break.
Yet though they wak'd the Laws, His tender Mind
Was undisturb'd, in Wrath severely kind.
Tempting His Power, and urging to assume;
Thus Jove in Love did Semele consume.
As the stout Oak, when round his Trunk the Vine
Does in soft Wreaths and amorous Foldings twine,
Easy and slight appears: the Winds from far
Summon their noisy Forces to the War;
6
His hidden Strength out-braves the loudest Storm:
Firmer he stands, and boldly keeps the Field,
Showing stout Minds, when unprovok'd, are mild.
So when the Good Man made the Crowd presume,
He show'd himself, and did the King assume:
For Goodness in Excess may be a Sin,
Justice must tame, whom Mercy cannot win.
Thus Winter fixes the unstable Sea,
And teaches restless Water Constancy,
Which under the warm Influence of bright Days,
The fickle Motion of each Blast obeys.
To bridle Factions, stop Rebellion's Course,
By easy Methods, vanquish without Force,
Relieve the Good, bold stubborn Foes subdue,
Mildness in Wrath, Meekness in Anger shew,
Were Arts Great Charles's Prudence only knew.
To fright the Bad, thus awful Thunder rolls;
While the bright Bow secures the Faithful Souls.
7
Such is thy Glory, Charles, thy lasting Name,
Brighter than our proud Neighbour's guilty Fame:
More Noble than the Spoils that Battels yield,
Or all the empty Triumphs of the Field.
'Tis less to conquer, than to make Wars cease,
And without Fighting, awe the World to Peace:
For proudest Triumphs from Contempt arise;
The Vanquish'd first the Conqueror's Arms despise:
Won Ensigns are the gaudy Marks of Scorn,
They brave the Victor first, and then adorn.
But peaceful Monarchs reign like Gods; while none
Dispute, all Love, Bless, Reverence their Throne.
Tygers, and Bears, with all the savage Host,
May Boldness, Strength, and daring Conquest boast;
But the sweet Passions of a Generous Mind,
Are the Prerogative of Human Kind;
The God-like Image, on our Clay imprest,
The darling Attribute which Heaven loves best:
In Charles, so Good a Man and King, we see
A double Image of the Deity.
Oh! had He more resembled it! Oh, why
Was He not still more like, and cou'd not dye?
Now do our Thoughts alone enjoy His Name,
And faint Ideas of our Blessing frame!
In Thames, the Ocean's Darling, England's Pride,
The pleasing Emblem of His Reign does glide:
Thames the Support, and Glory of our Isle,
Richer than Tagus, or Ægyptian Nile.
Though no rich Sand in him, no Pearls are found,
Yet Fields rejoice, his Meadows laugh around;
Less Wealth his Bosom holds, less guilty Stores,
For he exhausts himself, t'enrich the Shores.
Mild and Serene the peaceful Current flows,
No angry Foam, no raging Surges knows:
No dreadful Wreck upon his Banks appears,
His Crystal Stream unstain'd by Widows Tears,
His Chanel strong and easy, deep and clear.
No arbitrary Inundations sweep
The Plowman's Hopes, and Life, into the Deep;
The even Waters the old Limits keep.
But oh! he ebbs, the smiling Waves decay,
(For ever, lovely Stream, for ever stay!)
To the Black Sea his silent Course does bend,
Where the best Streams, the longest Rivers, end.
His spotless Waves there undistinguish'd pass,
None see, how clear, how bounteous, sweet, he was.
No Difference now (though late so much) is seen,
'Twixt him, fierce Rhine, and the impetuous Seyne.
Brighter than our proud Neighbour's guilty Fame:
More Noble than the Spoils that Battels yield,
Or all the empty Triumphs of the Field.
'Tis less to conquer, than to make Wars cease,
And without Fighting, awe the World to Peace:
For proudest Triumphs from Contempt arise;
The Vanquish'd first the Conqueror's Arms despise:
Won Ensigns are the gaudy Marks of Scorn,
They brave the Victor first, and then adorn.
But peaceful Monarchs reign like Gods; while none
Dispute, all Love, Bless, Reverence their Throne.
Tygers, and Bears, with all the savage Host,
May Boldness, Strength, and daring Conquest boast;
But the sweet Passions of a Generous Mind,
Are the Prerogative of Human Kind;
The God-like Image, on our Clay imprest,
The darling Attribute which Heaven loves best:
8
A double Image of the Deity.
Oh! had He more resembled it! Oh, why
Was He not still more like, and cou'd not dye?
Now do our Thoughts alone enjoy His Name,
And faint Ideas of our Blessing frame!
In Thames, the Ocean's Darling, England's Pride,
The pleasing Emblem of His Reign does glide:
Thames the Support, and Glory of our Isle,
Richer than Tagus, or Ægyptian Nile.
Though no rich Sand in him, no Pearls are found,
Yet Fields rejoice, his Meadows laugh around;
Less Wealth his Bosom holds, less guilty Stores,
For he exhausts himself, t'enrich the Shores.
Mild and Serene the peaceful Current flows,
No angry Foam, no raging Surges knows:
No dreadful Wreck upon his Banks appears,
His Crystal Stream unstain'd by Widows Tears,
His Chanel strong and easy, deep and clear.
9
The Plowman's Hopes, and Life, into the Deep;
The even Waters the old Limits keep.
But oh! he ebbs, the smiling Waves decay,
(For ever, lovely Stream, for ever stay!)
To the Black Sea his silent Course does bend,
Where the best Streams, the longest Rivers, end.
His spotless Waves there undistinguish'd pass,
None see, how clear, how bounteous, sweet, he was.
No Difference now (though late so much) is seen,
'Twixt him, fierce Rhine, and the impetuous Seyne.
But lo! the joyful Tide our Hopes restores,
And dancing Waves extend the wid'ning Shores.
James is our Charles in all Things but in Name:
Thus Thames is daily lost, yet still the same.
And dancing Waves extend the wid'ning Shores.
James is our Charles in all Things but in Name:
Thus Thames is daily lost, yet still the same.
10
THE MAN of HONOUR.
Not all the Threats or Favours of a Crown,
A Prince's Whisper, or a Tyrant's Frown,
Can awe the Spirit, or allure the Mind
Of him, who to strict Honour is inclin'd.
Though all the Pomp and Pleasure that does wait
On publick Places, and Affairs of State,
Shou'd fondly court him to be Base and Great;
With even Passions, and with settled Face,
He would remove the Harlot's false Embrace.
A Prince's Whisper, or a Tyrant's Frown,
Can awe the Spirit, or allure the Mind
Of him, who to strict Honour is inclin'd.
Though all the Pomp and Pleasure that does wait
On publick Places, and Affairs of State,
Shou'd fondly court him to be Base and Great;
With even Passions, and with settled Face,
He would remove the Harlot's false Embrace.
Tho' all the Storms and Tempests should arise,
That Church-Magicians in their Cells devise,
And from their settled Basis Nations tear,
He wou'd unmov'd the mighty Ruin bear;
Secure in Innocence contemn 'em all,
And decently array'd in Honours, fall.
That Church-Magicians in their Cells devise,
11
He wou'd unmov'd the mighty Ruin bear;
Secure in Innocence contemn 'em all,
And decently array'd in Honours, fall.
For this, Brave Shrewsbury and Lumly's Name
Shall stand the foremost in the List of Fame,
Who first with steddy Minds the Current broke,
And to the suppliant Monarch boldly spoke:
Shall stand the foremost in the List of Fame,
Who first with steddy Minds the Current broke,
And to the suppliant Monarch boldly spoke:
‘Great Sir, renown'd for Constancy, how just
‘Have we obey'd the Crown, and serv'd our Trust,
‘Espous'd your Cause and Interest in Distress,
‘Your self must witness, and our Foes confess!
‘Permit us then ill Fortune to accuse,
‘That you at last unhappy Councils use,
‘And ask the only thing we must refuse.
‘Our Lives and Fortunes freely we'll expose,
‘Honour alone we cannot, must not lose:
‘Honour, that Spark of the Celestial Fire,
‘That above Nature makes Mankind aspire;
‘Enobles the rude Passions of our Frame,
‘With Thirst of Glory, and Desire of Fame;
‘The richest Treasure of a generous Breast,
‘That gives the Stamp and Standard to the rest.
‘Wit, Strength, and Courage, are wild dangerous Force,
‘Unless this softens and directs their Course;
‘And would you rob us of the noblest Part,
‘Accept a Sacrifice without a Heart?
‘'Tis much beneath the Greatness of a Throne,
‘To take the Casket when the Jewel's gone;
‘Debauch our Principles, corrupt our Race,
‘And teach the Nobles to be False and Base;
‘What Confidence can you in them repose,
‘Who e're they serve you, all their Value lose?
‘Who once enslave their Conscience to their Lust,
‘Have lost their Reins, and can no more be Just.
‘Have we obey'd the Crown, and serv'd our Trust,
‘Espous'd your Cause and Interest in Distress,
‘Your self must witness, and our Foes confess!
‘Permit us then ill Fortune to accuse,
‘That you at last unhappy Councils use,
‘And ask the only thing we must refuse.
‘Our Lives and Fortunes freely we'll expose,
‘Honour alone we cannot, must not lose:
12
‘That above Nature makes Mankind aspire;
‘Enobles the rude Passions of our Frame,
‘With Thirst of Glory, and Desire of Fame;
‘The richest Treasure of a generous Breast,
‘That gives the Stamp and Standard to the rest.
‘Wit, Strength, and Courage, are wild dangerous Force,
‘Unless this softens and directs their Course;
‘And would you rob us of the noblest Part,
‘Accept a Sacrifice without a Heart?
‘'Tis much beneath the Greatness of a Throne,
‘To take the Casket when the Jewel's gone;
‘Debauch our Principles, corrupt our Race,
‘And teach the Nobles to be False and Base;
‘What Confidence can you in them repose,
‘Who e're they serve you, all their Value lose?
‘Who once enslave their Conscience to their Lust,
‘Have lost their Reins, and can no more be Just.
13
‘Of Honour, Men at first like Women nice,
‘Raise Maiden Scruples at unpractis'd Vice;
‘Their modest Nature curbs the struggling Flame,
‘And stifles what they wish to act, with Shame:
‘But once this Fence thrown down, when they perceive
‘That they may taste forbidden Fruit and live;
‘They stop not here their Course, but safely in,
‘Grow Strong, Luxuriant, and Bold in Sin;
‘True to no Principles, press forward still,
‘And only bound by Appetite their Will:
‘Now fawn and flatter, while this Tide prevails,
‘But shift with every veering Blast their Sails.
‘Mark those that meanly truckle to your Power,
‘They once deserted, and chang'd Sides before,
‘And would to morrow Mahomet adore!
‘On higher Springs true Men of Honour move,
‘Free is their Service, and unbought their Love:
‘When Danger calls, and Honour leads the Way,
‘With Joy they follow, and with Pride obey:
‘When the Rebellious Foe came rolling on,
‘And shook with gathering Multitudes the Throne,
‘Where were the Minions then? What Arms, what Force,
‘Cou'd they oppose to stop the Torrent's Course?
‘Raise Maiden Scruples at unpractis'd Vice;
‘Their modest Nature curbs the struggling Flame,
‘And stifles what they wish to act, with Shame:
‘But once this Fence thrown down, when they perceive
‘That they may taste forbidden Fruit and live;
‘They stop not here their Course, but safely in,
‘Grow Strong, Luxuriant, and Bold in Sin;
‘True to no Principles, press forward still,
‘And only bound by Appetite their Will:
‘Now fawn and flatter, while this Tide prevails,
‘But shift with every veering Blast their Sails.
‘Mark those that meanly truckle to your Power,
‘They once deserted, and chang'd Sides before,
‘And would to morrow Mahomet adore!
‘On higher Springs true Men of Honour move,
‘Free is their Service, and unbought their Love:
‘When Danger calls, and Honour leads the Way,
‘With Joy they follow, and with Pride obey:
14
‘And shook with gathering Multitudes the Throne,
‘Where were the Minions then? What Arms, what Force,
‘Cou'd they oppose to stop the Torrent's Course?
‘Then Pembroke, then the Nobles firmly stood,
‘Free of their Lives, and lavish of their Blood;
‘But when your Orders to mean Ends decline,
‘With the same Constancy they all resign.
‘Free of their Lives, and lavish of their Blood;
‘But when your Orders to mean Ends decline,
‘With the same Constancy they all resign.
Thus spake the Youth, who open'd first the way,
And was the Phosphorous to the dawning Day;
Follow'd by a more glorious splendid Host,
Than any Age, or any Realm can boast:
So great their Fame, so numerous their Train,
To name were endless, and to praise in vain;
But Herbert, and great Oxford merit more,
Bold is their Flight, and more sublime they soar;
So high their Virtue as yet wants a Name,
Exceeding Wonder, and surpassing Fame:
Rise, Glorious Church, erect thy Radiant Head,
The Storm is past, th' Impending Tempest fled:
Had Fate decreed thy Ruin or Disgrace,
It had not giv'n such Sons so brave a Race.
When for Destruction Heav'n a Realm designs,
The Symptoms first appear in slavish Minds:
These Men would prop a sinking Nation's Weight,
Stop falling Vengeance, and reverse ev'n Fate.
Let other Nations boast their fruitful Soil,
Their fragrant Spices, their rich Wine and Oil;
In breathing Colours, and in living Paint
Let them excel, their Mastery we grant.
But to instruct the Mind, to arm the Soul
With Virtue, which no Dangers can controul;
Exalt the Thought, a speedy Courage lend,
That Horror cannot shake, or Pleasure bend:
These are the English Arts, these we profess,
To be the same in Mis'ry and Success;
To teach Oppressors Law, assist the Good,
Relieve the Wretched, and subdue the Proud.
Such are our Souls: But what doth Worth avail,
When Kings commit to hungry Priests the Scale?
All Merit's light when they dispose the Weight,
Who either would embroil, or rule the State;
Defame those Heroes who their Yoke refuse,
And blast that Honesty they cannot use;
The Strength and Safety of the Crown destroy,
And the King's Power against himself employ;
Affront his Friends, deprive him of the Brave;
Bereft of these, he must become their Slave.
Men, like our Money, come the most in Play,
For being base, and of a coarse Allay.
The richest Medals, and the purest Gold,
Of native Value, and exactest Mould,
By Worth conceal'd, in private Closets shine,
For vulgar Use too precious, and too fine;
Whilst Tin and Copper with new stamping bright,
Coin of base Metal, counterfeit and light,
Do all the Bus'ness of the Nation's Turn,
Rais'd in Contempt, us'd and employ'd in Scorn:
So shining Virtues are for Courts too bright,
Whose guilty Actions fly the searching Light;
Rich in themselves, disdaining to aspire,
Great without Pomp, they willingly retire;
Give place to Fools, whose rash misjudging Sense
Increases the weak Measures of their Prince;
Prone to admire, and flatter him in Ease,
They study not his Good, but how to please;
They blindly and implicitly run on,
Nor see those Dangers which the other shun:
Who slow to act, each Bus'ness duly weigh,
Advise with Freedom, and with Care obey;
With Wisdom fatal to their Interest, strive
To make their Monarch lov'd, and Nation thrive.
Such have no place where Priests and Women reign,
Who love fierce Drivers, and a looser Rein.
And was the Phosphorous to the dawning Day;
Follow'd by a more glorious splendid Host,
Than any Age, or any Realm can boast:
So great their Fame, so numerous their Train,
To name were endless, and to praise in vain;
But Herbert, and great Oxford merit more,
Bold is their Flight, and more sublime they soar;
15
Exceeding Wonder, and surpassing Fame:
Rise, Glorious Church, erect thy Radiant Head,
The Storm is past, th' Impending Tempest fled:
Had Fate decreed thy Ruin or Disgrace,
It had not giv'n such Sons so brave a Race.
When for Destruction Heav'n a Realm designs,
The Symptoms first appear in slavish Minds:
These Men would prop a sinking Nation's Weight,
Stop falling Vengeance, and reverse ev'n Fate.
Let other Nations boast their fruitful Soil,
Their fragrant Spices, their rich Wine and Oil;
In breathing Colours, and in living Paint
Let them excel, their Mastery we grant.
But to instruct the Mind, to arm the Soul
With Virtue, which no Dangers can controul;
Exalt the Thought, a speedy Courage lend,
That Horror cannot shake, or Pleasure bend:
These are the English Arts, these we profess,
To be the same in Mis'ry and Success;
16
Relieve the Wretched, and subdue the Proud.
Such are our Souls: But what doth Worth avail,
When Kings commit to hungry Priests the Scale?
All Merit's light when they dispose the Weight,
Who either would embroil, or rule the State;
Defame those Heroes who their Yoke refuse,
And blast that Honesty they cannot use;
The Strength and Safety of the Crown destroy,
And the King's Power against himself employ;
Affront his Friends, deprive him of the Brave;
Bereft of these, he must become their Slave.
Men, like our Money, come the most in Play,
For being base, and of a coarse Allay.
The richest Medals, and the purest Gold,
Of native Value, and exactest Mould,
By Worth conceal'd, in private Closets shine,
For vulgar Use too precious, and too fine;
Whilst Tin and Copper with new stamping bright,
Coin of base Metal, counterfeit and light,
17
Rais'd in Contempt, us'd and employ'd in Scorn:
So shining Virtues are for Courts too bright,
Whose guilty Actions fly the searching Light;
Rich in themselves, disdaining to aspire,
Great without Pomp, they willingly retire;
Give place to Fools, whose rash misjudging Sense
Increases the weak Measures of their Prince;
Prone to admire, and flatter him in Ease,
They study not his Good, but how to please;
They blindly and implicitly run on,
Nor see those Dangers which the other shun:
Who slow to act, each Bus'ness duly weigh,
Advise with Freedom, and with Care obey;
With Wisdom fatal to their Interest, strive
To make their Monarch lov'd, and Nation thrive.
Such have no place where Priests and Women reign,
Who love fierce Drivers, and a looser Rein.
18
An EPISTLE To the Right Honourable CHARLES Earl of Dorset and Middlesex.
Occasion'd by His Majesty's Victory in IRELAND.
What? Shall the King the Nation's Genius raise,
And make us Rival our Great Edward's Days;
Yet not one Muse, worthy a Conq'ror's Name,
Attend his Triumphs, and Record his Fame!
Oh, Dorset! You alone this Fault can mend,
The Muses Darling, Confident, and Friend?
The Poets are your Charge, and, if unfit,
You should be fin'd to furnish abler Wit;
Oblig'd to quit your Ease, and draw agen,
To paint the Greatest Heroe, the Best Pen.
And make us Rival our Great Edward's Days;
Yet not one Muse, worthy a Conq'ror's Name,
Attend his Triumphs, and Record his Fame!
Oh, Dorset! You alone this Fault can mend,
The Muses Darling, Confident, and Friend?
The Poets are your Charge, and, if unfit,
You should be fin'd to furnish abler Wit;
19
To paint the Greatest Heroe, the Best Pen.
A Heroe, who thus early does out-shine
The Ancient Honours of his Glorious Line;
And, soaring more sublimely to Renown,
The Mem'ry of their pious Triumphs drown:
Whose Actions are deliver'd o'er to Fame,
As Types, and Figures of his greater Name.
The Ancient Honours of his Glorious Line;
And, soaring more sublimely to Renown,
The Mem'ry of their pious Triumphs drown:
Whose Actions are deliver'd o'er to Fame,
As Types, and Figures of his greater Name.
When Fate some mighty Genius has design'd,
For the Relief, and Wonder of Mankind,
Nature takes Time to answer the Intent,
And climbs, by slow Degrees, the steep Ascent:
She toils, and labours with the growing Weight,
And watches carefully the Steps of Fate;
'Till all the Seeds of Providence unite,
To set the Heroe in a happy Light;
Then, in a lucky and propitious Hour,
Exerts her Force, and calls forth all her Pow'r.
For the Relief, and Wonder of Mankind,
Nature takes Time to answer the Intent,
And climbs, by slow Degrees, the steep Ascent:
She toils, and labours with the growing Weight,
And watches carefully the Steps of Fate;
'Till all the Seeds of Providence unite,
To set the Heroe in a happy Light;
Then, in a lucky and propitious Hour,
Exerts her Force, and calls forth all her Pow'r.
20
In Nassau's Race she made this long Essay;
Heroes and Patriots prepar'd the Way,
And promis'd, in their Dawn, this brighter Day;
A Publick Sp'rit distinguish'd all the Line,
Successive Virtues in each Branch did shine,
'Till this last Glory rose, and Crown'd the great Design.
Heroes and Patriots prepar'd the Way,
And promis'd, in their Dawn, this brighter Day;
A Publick Sp'rit distinguish'd all the Line,
Successive Virtues in each Branch did shine,
'Till this last Glory rose, and Crown'd the great Design.
Blest be his Name! and peaceful lie his Grave,
Who durst his Native Soil, lost Holland, save!
But William's Genius takes a wider Scope,
And gives the injur'd, in all Kingdoms, Hope:
Born to subdue insulting Tyrant's Rage,
The Ornament, and Terror, of the Age;
The Refuge, where afflicted Nations find
Relief from those Oppressors of Mankind,
Whom Laws restrain not, and no Oaths can bind.
Him, their Deliv'rer Europe does confess,
All Tongues extol, and all Religions bless;
The Po, the Danube, Bœtis, and the Rhine,
United in his Praise, their Wonder join:
While, in the Publick Cause, he takes the Field,
And shelter'd Nations fight behind his Shield.
His Foes themselves dare not Applause refuse:
Who durst his Native Soil, lost Holland, save!
But William's Genius takes a wider Scope,
And gives the injur'd, in all Kingdoms, Hope:
Born to subdue insulting Tyrant's Rage,
The Ornament, and Terror, of the Age;
The Refuge, where afflicted Nations find
Relief from those Oppressors of Mankind,
Whom Laws restrain not, and no Oaths can bind.
Him, their Deliv'rer Europe does confess,
All Tongues extol, and all Religions bless;
21
United in his Praise, their Wonder join:
While, in the Publick Cause, he takes the Field,
And shelter'd Nations fight behind his Shield.
His Foes themselves dare not Applause refuse:
And shall such Actions want a Faithful Muse?
Poets have this to boast; Without their Aid,
The freshest Lawrels, nipp'd by Malice, fade,
And Virtue to Oblivion is betray'd:
The proudest Honours have a narrow Date,
Unless they vindicate their Names from Fate.
Poets have this to boast; Without their Aid,
The freshest Lawrels, nipp'd by Malice, fade,
And Virtue to Oblivion is betray'd:
The proudest Honours have a narrow Date,
Unless they vindicate their Names from Fate.
But who is equal to sustain the Part!
D---n has Numbers, but he wants a Heart;
Enjoyn'd a Penance (which is too severe
For playing once the Fool) to persevere.
Others, who knew the Trade, have laid it down;
And, looking round, I find you stand alone.
D---n has Numbers, but he wants a Heart;
Enjoyn'd a Penance (which is too severe
For playing once the Fool) to persevere.
Others, who knew the Trade, have laid it down;
And, looking round, I find you stand alone.
22
How, Sir! can you, or any English Muse,
Our Country's Fame, our Monarch's Arms, refuse?
Our Country's Fame, our Monarch's Arms, refuse?
'Tis not my Want of Gratitude, but Skill,
Makes me decline what I can ne'er fulfil:
I cannot sing of Conquests, as I ought,
And my Breath fails to swell a lofty Note.
I know my Compass, and my Muse's Size,
She loves to Sport and Play, but dares not rise;
Idly affects, in this familiar Way,
In easy Numbers loosely to convey,
What mutual Friendship wou'd at Distance say.
Makes me decline what I can ne'er fulfil:
I cannot sing of Conquests, as I ought,
And my Breath fails to swell a lofty Note.
I know my Compass, and my Muse's Size,
She loves to Sport and Play, but dares not rise;
Idly affects, in this familiar Way,
In easy Numbers loosely to convey,
What mutual Friendship wou'd at Distance say.
Poets assume another Tone and Voice,
When Victory's their Theme, and Arms their Choice.
To follow Heroes in the Chace of Fame,
Asks Force, and Heat, and Fancy wing'd with Flame.
What Words can paint the Royal Warrior's Face?
What Colours can the Figure boldly raise?
When cover'd o'er with comely Dust and Smoke,
He pierc'd the Foe, and thickest Squadrons broke?
His bleeding Arm, still painful with the Sore,
Which, in his Peoples Cause, the Pious Father bore:
Whom, cleaving through the Troops a Glorious Way,
Not the united Force of France, and Hell, cou'd stay.
When Victory's their Theme, and Arms their Choice.
To follow Heroes in the Chace of Fame,
Asks Force, and Heat, and Fancy wing'd with Flame.
What Words can paint the Royal Warrior's Face?
What Colours can the Figure boldly raise?
23
He pierc'd the Foe, and thickest Squadrons broke?
His bleeding Arm, still painful with the Sore,
Which, in his Peoples Cause, the Pious Father bore:
Whom, cleaving through the Troops a Glorious Way,
Not the united Force of France, and Hell, cou'd stay.
Oh, Dorset! I am rais'd! I'm all on fire!
And, if my Strength could answer my Desire,
In Speaking Paint this Figure should be seen,
Like Jove his Grandeur, and like Mars his Mien;
And Gods descending should adorn the Scene.
And, if my Strength could answer my Desire,
In Speaking Paint this Figure should be seen,
Like Jove his Grandeur, and like Mars his Mien;
And Gods descending should adorn the Scene.
See, See! Upon the Banks of Boyne he stands,
By his own View adjusting his Commands;
Calm and serene the Armed Coast surveys,
And, in cool Thoughts, the diff'rent Chances weighs:
Then, fir'd with Fame, and eager of Renown,
Resolves to end the War, and fix the Throne.
From Wing to Wing the Squadrons bending stand,
And close their Ranks to meet their King's Command;
The Drums and Trumpets sleep, the sprightly Noise
Of neighing Steeds, and Canons louder Voice,
Suspended in Attention, banish far
All Hostile Sounds, and hush the Din of War:
The silent Troops stretch forth an eager Look,
List'ning with Joy, while thus their Gen'ral spoke.
By his own View adjusting his Commands;
Calm and serene the Armed Coast surveys,
And, in cool Thoughts, the diff'rent Chances weighs:
Then, fir'd with Fame, and eager of Renown,
Resolves to end the War, and fix the Throne.
24
And close their Ranks to meet their King's Command;
The Drums and Trumpets sleep, the sprightly Noise
Of neighing Steeds, and Canons louder Voice,
Suspended in Attention, banish far
All Hostile Sounds, and hush the Din of War:
The silent Troops stretch forth an eager Look,
List'ning with Joy, while thus their Gen'ral spoke.
‘Come, Fellow-Soldiers, Follow me once more,
‘And fix the Fate of Europe on that Shore;
‘Your Courage only waits from me the Word,
‘But England's Happiness commands my Sword:
‘In Her Defence I ev'ry Part will bear,
‘The Soldier's Danger, and the Prince's Care,
‘And envy any Arm an equal Share.
‘Set all that's dear to Men before your Sight,
‘For Laws, Religion, Liberty, we fight;
‘To save your Wives from Rape, your Towns from Flame,
‘Redeem your Country sold, and vindicate her Name:
‘At whose Request and timely Call I rose,
‘To tempt my Fate, and all my Hopes expose;
‘Struggled with adverse Storms, and Winter-Seas,
‘That in my Labours you might find your Ease.
‘Let other Monarchs dictate from afar,
‘And write the empty Triumphs of their War,
‘In lazy Palaces supinely rust;
‘My Sword shall justify my Peoples Trust.
‘For which—But I your Victory delay;
‘Come on; I, and my Genius lead the Way.
‘And fix the Fate of Europe on that Shore;
‘Your Courage only waits from me the Word,
‘But England's Happiness commands my Sword:
‘In Her Defence I ev'ry Part will bear,
‘The Soldier's Danger, and the Prince's Care,
‘And envy any Arm an equal Share.
‘Set all that's dear to Men before your Sight,
‘For Laws, Religion, Liberty, we fight;
‘To save your Wives from Rape, your Towns from Flame,
‘Redeem your Country sold, and vindicate her Name:
25
‘To tempt my Fate, and all my Hopes expose;
‘Struggled with adverse Storms, and Winter-Seas,
‘That in my Labours you might find your Ease.
‘Let other Monarchs dictate from afar,
‘And write the empty Triumphs of their War,
‘In lazy Palaces supinely rust;
‘My Sword shall justify my Peoples Trust.
‘For which—But I your Victory delay;
‘Come on; I, and my Genius lead the Way.
He said: New Life and Joy ran through the Host,
And Sense of Danger in their Wonder lost;
Precipitate they plunge into the Flood,
In vain the Waves, the Banks, the Men withstood.
The King leads on, the King does all inflame,
The King—and carries Millions in the Name.
And Sense of Danger in their Wonder lost;
Precipitate they plunge into the Flood,
In vain the Waves, the Banks, the Men withstood.
The King leads on, the King does all inflame,
The King—and carries Millions in the Name.
As when the swelling Ocean bursts his Bounds,
And, foaming, overwhelms the neighb'ring Grounds,
The roaring Deluge, rushing headlong on,
Sweeps Cities in its Course, and bears whole Forests down;
So on the Foe the firm Batallions prest,
And He, like the Tenth Wave, drove on the rest;
Fierce, Gallant, Young, he shot thro' ev'ry Place,
Urging their Flight, and hurrying on the Chace,
He hung upon their Rear, or lighten'd in their Face.
And, foaming, overwhelms the neighb'ring Grounds,
26
Sweeps Cities in its Course, and bears whole Forests down;
So on the Foe the firm Batallions prest,
And He, like the Tenth Wave, drove on the rest;
Fierce, Gallant, Young, he shot thro' ev'ry Place,
Urging their Flight, and hurrying on the Chace,
He hung upon their Rear, or lighten'd in their Face.
Stop! stop! brave Prince! Allay that Gen'rous Flame,
Enough is giv'n to England, and to Fame.
Remember, Sir, you in the Center stand,
Europe's divided Int'rests you command,
All their Designs uniting in your Hand:
Down from your Throne descends the Golden Chain,
Which does the Fabrick of our World sustain;
That once dissolv'd by any Fatal Stroke,
The Scheme of all our Happiness is broke.
Enough is giv'n to England, and to Fame.
Remember, Sir, you in the Center stand,
Europe's divided Int'rests you command,
All their Designs uniting in your Hand:
Down from your Throne descends the Golden Chain,
Which does the Fabrick of our World sustain;
That once dissolv'd by any Fatal Stroke,
The Scheme of all our Happiness is broke.
Stop! stop! brave Prince! Fleets may repair again,
And routed Armies rally on the Plain,
But Ages are requir'd to raise so Great a Man!
Hear, how the Waves of French Ambition roar,
Disdaining Bounds, and breaking on the Shore,
Which you, ordain'd to curb their wild-destructive Pow'r,
That Strength remov'd; Again, again, they flow,
Lay Europe waste, nor Laws, nor Limits know.
And routed Armies rally on the Plain,
But Ages are requir'd to raise so Great a Man!
27
Disdaining Bounds, and breaking on the Shore,
Which you, ordain'd to curb their wild-destructive Pow'r,
That Strength remov'd; Again, again, they flow,
Lay Europe waste, nor Laws, nor Limits know.
Stop! stop! brave Prince!—What, does your Muse, Sir, faint?
Proceed, persue his Conquests—Faith, I can't:
My Spirits sink, and will no longer bear;
Rapture and Fury carry'd me thus far
Transported and amaz'd—
That Rage once spent, I can no more sustain
Your Flights, your Energies, and Tragic Strain,
But fall back to my Nat'ral Pace again;
In humble Verse provoking you to Rhime,
I wish there were more Dorsets at this Time.
Proceed, persue his Conquests—Faith, I can't:
My Spirits sink, and will no longer bear;
Rapture and Fury carry'd me thus far
Transported and amaz'd—
That Rage once spent, I can no more sustain
Your Flights, your Energies, and Tragic Strain,
But fall back to my Nat'ral Pace again;
In humble Verse provoking you to Rhime,
I wish there were more Dorsets at this Time.
Oh! if in France this Heroe had been born,
What Glittering Tinsel wou'd his Acts adorn!
There 'tis Immortal Fame, and High Renown,
To steal a Country, and to buy a Town:
Their Triumphs are o'er Kings and Kingdoms sold,
And Captive Virtue led in Chains of Gold.
If Courage cou'd, like Courts, be kept in Pay,
What Sums wou'd Lewis give, that France might say,
That Vict'ry follow'd where he led the Way?
He all his Conquests wou'd for this refund,
And take th' Equivalent, a Glorious Wound.
Then, what Advice, to spread his real Fame,
Wou'd pass between Versailles and Nostredame?
Their Plays, their Songs, wou'd dwell upon his Wound,
And Operas repeat no other Sound;
Boyne wou'd, for Ages, be the Painter's Theme,
The Goblin's Labour, and the Poet's Dream;
The wounded Arm wou'd furnish all their Rooms,
And bleed for ever Scarlet in the Looms:
Boileau with this wou'd plume his artful Pen:
And can your Muse be silent? Think again.
What Glittering Tinsel wou'd his Acts adorn!
28
To steal a Country, and to buy a Town:
Their Triumphs are o'er Kings and Kingdoms sold,
And Captive Virtue led in Chains of Gold.
If Courage cou'd, like Courts, be kept in Pay,
What Sums wou'd Lewis give, that France might say,
That Vict'ry follow'd where he led the Way?
He all his Conquests wou'd for this refund,
And take th' Equivalent, a Glorious Wound.
Then, what Advice, to spread his real Fame,
Wou'd pass between Versailles and Nostredame?
Their Plays, their Songs, wou'd dwell upon his Wound,
And Operas repeat no other Sound;
Boyne wou'd, for Ages, be the Painter's Theme,
The Goblin's Labour, and the Poet's Dream;
The wounded Arm wou'd furnish all their Rooms,
And bleed for ever Scarlet in the Looms:
Boileau with this wou'd plume his artful Pen:
And can your Muse be silent? Think again.
29
Spare your Advice; and since you have begun,
Finish your own Design; the Work is done.
Finish your own Design; the Work is done.
Done! Nothing's done: Not the dead Colours laid,
And the most Glorious Scenes stand undisplay'd:
A Thousand Gen'rous Actions close the Rear;
A Thousand Virtues, still behind, stand crowding to appear.
And the most Glorious Scenes stand undisplay'd:
A Thousand Gen'rous Actions close the Rear;
A Thousand Virtues, still behind, stand crowding to appear.
The Queen her self, the Charming Queen shou'd grace
The Noble Piece, and in an artful Place,
Soften War's Horror with her lovely Face.
Who can omit the Queen's auspicious Smile,
The Pride of the Fair Sex, the Goddess of our Isle?
Who can forget, what all admir'd of late,
Her Fears for him, her Prudence for the State?
Dissembling Cares, she smooth'd her Looks with Grace,
Doubts in her Heart, and Pleasure in her Face.
As Danger did approach, her Spirits rose,
And, putting on the King, dismay'd his Foes.
Now, all in Joy, she gilds the chearful Court,
In ev'ry Glance descending Angels sport.
As on the Hills of Cynthus, or the Meads
Of cool Eurotas, when Diana leads
The Chorus of her Nymphs, who there advance
A Thousand shining Maids, and form the Dance:
The stately Goddess, with a graceful Pride,
Sweet and Majestic, does the Figure guide;
Treading in just and easy Measures round
(The silver Arrows on her Shoulder sound)
She walks above them All. Such is the Scene
Of the Bright Circle, and the Brighter Queen.
The Noble Piece, and in an artful Place,
Soften War's Horror with her lovely Face.
Who can omit the Queen's auspicious Smile,
The Pride of the Fair Sex, the Goddess of our Isle?
Who can forget, what all admir'd of late,
Her Fears for him, her Prudence for the State?
Dissembling Cares, she smooth'd her Looks with Grace,
Doubts in her Heart, and Pleasure in her Face.
As Danger did approach, her Spirits rose,
And, putting on the King, dismay'd his Foes.
30
In ev'ry Glance descending Angels sport.
As on the Hills of Cynthus, or the Meads
Of cool Eurotas, when Diana leads
The Chorus of her Nymphs, who there advance
A Thousand shining Maids, and form the Dance:
The stately Goddess, with a graceful Pride,
Sweet and Majestic, does the Figure guide;
Treading in just and easy Measures round
(The silver Arrows on her Shoulder sound)
She walks above them All. Such is the Scene
Of the Bright Circle, and the Brighter Queen.
These Subjects do, my Lord, your Skill command,
These none may touch with an Unhallow'd Hand:
Tender the Strokes must be, and nicely writ,
Disguis'd Encomiums must be hid in Wit,
Which Modesty, like theirs, will e'er admit,
Who made no other Steps to such a Throne,
But to Deserve, and to Receive, the Crown.
These none may touch with an Unhallow'd Hand:
Tender the Strokes must be, and nicely writ,
Disguis'd Encomiums must be hid in Wit,
Which Modesty, like theirs, will e'er admit,
Who made no other Steps to such a Throne,
But to Deserve, and to Receive, the Crown.
75
An EPISTLE TO Joseph Addison, Esq;
Occasion'd by the Death Of the Right Honourable CHARLES, Late Earl of HALIFAX.
And shall Great Halifax resign to Fate,
And not one Bard upon his Ashes wait?
Or is with Him all Inspiration fled,
And lie the Muses with their Patron Dead?
Convince us, Addison, his Spirit reigns
Breathing again in thy Immortal Strains:
To Thee the list'ning World impartial bends,
Since Halifax and Envy now are Friends.
And not one Bard upon his Ashes wait?
Or is with Him all Inspiration fled,
And lie the Muses with their Patron Dead?
Convince us, Addison, his Spirit reigns
Breathing again in thy Immortal Strains:
76
Since Halifax and Envy now are Friends.
Me deeply smit with Love of Nature's Laws,
The Vital Union, and Dissolving Cause,
His Worth transports beyond this fleeting Frame,
To tell how Dying Patriots live in Fame;
Virtues like his, the meanest Bard can raise;
And 'tis Ambition but to strive to praise.
The Vital Union, and Dissolving Cause,
His Worth transports beyond this fleeting Frame,
To tell how Dying Patriots live in Fame;
Virtues like his, the meanest Bard can raise;
And 'tis Ambition but to strive to praise.
When Scenes of Action are obscure and low,
Nature moves silent, and advances slow;
Defers to distant Days, and Ages fit,
The Pow'rs of Genius, and the Fires of Wit.
She suits her Times of Wonder to her Men,
And to a Cæsar gives a Virgil's Pen:
When Toils are destin'd for the Brave or Wise,
A Nassau, and a Montague arise.
Nature moves silent, and advances slow;
Defers to distant Days, and Ages fit,
The Pow'rs of Genius, and the Fires of Wit.
She suits her Times of Wonder to her Men,
And to a Cæsar gives a Virgil's Pen:
When Toils are destin'd for the Brave or Wise,
A Nassau, and a Montague arise.
77
Yet Virtue often sullen and retir'd,
Shines to her self, nor cares to be admir'd;
Distrusting Fortune, or by Fears betray'd,
Round her own Merit casts an Envious Shade.
The Patriot-Soul with warmer Notions fir'd,
Or by some secret Providence inspir'd,
Waits with Impatience for the Publick Voice,
And owes his useful Greatness to his Choice;
Ev'n when excluded from more Noble Views,
Some lower Tract of Glory still persues.
Thus Philip's Son Arbela yet unfought,
With the Great Stag yrite in private thought:
Thus Julius once to Eloquence laid Claim,
And Halifax first chose the Poets Fame.
Shines to her self, nor cares to be admir'd;
Distrusting Fortune, or by Fears betray'd,
Round her own Merit casts an Envious Shade.
The Patriot-Soul with warmer Notions fir'd,
Or by some secret Providence inspir'd,
Waits with Impatience for the Publick Voice,
And owes his useful Greatness to his Choice;
Ev'n when excluded from more Noble Views,
Some lower Tract of Glory still persues.
Thus Philip's Son Arbela yet unfought,
With the Great Stag yrite in private thought:
Thus Julius once to Eloquence laid Claim,
And Halifax first chose the Poets Fame.
O Addison! assert the Poet-Race,
And save the Kindred Muses from Disgrace.
Say, by the Pow'rs of heav'nly Numbers taught,
How Monarchs govern'd, and how Heroes fought,
When yet Morality in Verse was sung,
And Lyres by none but hallow'd Fingers strung;
When Bards unpractis'd in the Arts of Praise,
Flatter'd no Tyrants in their servile Lays,
And scorn'd to gild in prostituted Rhimes,
An Ox---d's Treasons, or a Bourbon's Crimes.
They chose their Themes like Halifax and You,
Selected Spirits, and the Virtuous Few,
Who founded Laws or banish'd Faith restor'd,
Or for their Country drew the righteous Sword,
Fit Objects to employ the Voice Divine
Of Cato's, Nassau's, or of Brunswick's Line.
And save the Kindred Muses from Disgrace.
Say, by the Pow'rs of heav'nly Numbers taught,
How Monarchs govern'd, and how Heroes fought,
78
And Lyres by none but hallow'd Fingers strung;
When Bards unpractis'd in the Arts of Praise,
Flatter'd no Tyrants in their servile Lays,
And scorn'd to gild in prostituted Rhimes,
An Ox---d's Treasons, or a Bourbon's Crimes.
They chose their Themes like Halifax and You,
Selected Spirits, and the Virtuous Few,
Who founded Laws or banish'd Faith restor'd,
Or for their Country drew the righteous Sword,
Fit Objects to employ the Voice Divine
Of Cato's, Nassau's, or of Brunswick's Line.
Fir'd with these Names the Muse ambitious tow'rs,
Fond of her Theme, forgetful of her Pow'rs;
But soon she falters, and to you resigns
The Rival Majesty of Virgil's Lines;
Content, if her inferior rude Essays
Hurt not his Ashes, whom they meant to praise.
Fond of her Theme, forgetful of her Pow'rs;
But soon she falters, and to you resigns
The Rival Majesty of Virgil's Lines;
Content, if her inferior rude Essays
Hurt not his Ashes, whom they meant to praise.
79
Ye murm'ring Sons of Phœbus, call no more
The Banks of Helicon a Barren Shore;
The Gods their Favourites thence to Honours bring,
And kindly raise them on the Muses Wing.
There Montague with secret Rapture warm'd,
At Charles's Urn the list'ning Shepherds charm'd;
So much the God indulg'd the youthful Lays,
Spenser might own the Song, and Sidney praise;
So well he shar'd the Character he writ,
The gentlest Manners, and the strongest Wit.
The Banks of Helicon a Barren Shore;
The Gods their Favourites thence to Honours bring,
And kindly raise them on the Muses Wing.
There Montague with secret Rapture warm'd,
At Charles's Urn the list'ning Shepherds charm'd;
So much the God indulg'd the youthful Lays,
Spenser might own the Song, and Sidney praise;
So well he shar'd the Character he writ,
The gentlest Manners, and the strongest Wit.
Succeeding Days require no pious Strain;
For ah! what Tongue can sing when Tyrants reign?
Who wake the String, or tune the sprightly Reeds,
To Notes of Pleasure, when his Country bleeds?
Apollo, then no more thy Sons inspire,
Then blast the Hand that dares provoke the Lyre,
Or stain their Actions with unhallow'd Rhimes,
And Bavius's and D---y's damn their Times.
For ah! what Tongue can sing when Tyrants reign?
Who wake the String, or tune the sprightly Reeds,
To Notes of Pleasure, when his Country bleeds?
Apollo, then no more thy Sons inspire,
Then blast the Hand that dares provoke the Lyre,
80
And Bavius's and D---y's damn their Times.
But see! the Clouds of Romish Night disperse,
And William gives a brighter Theme for Verse:
As a Brave Champion half his Force conceals,
'Till he some new uncommon Impulse feels,
Then meets an Object worthy of the Fight,
And puts forth all the Wonders of his Might;
His Foes stand trembling, and his Friends admire,
Where slept the hidden Strength and secret Fire:
Thus Halifax's Muse, till William came,
Check'd half her Vigour, and restrain'd her Flame;
Then soaring boldly with no middle Wing,
O'er Earth and Seas persu'd the Godlike King,
Fill'd with new Fury ev'ry glowing Line,
And found a Second Zanthus in the Boyne.
And William gives a brighter Theme for Verse:
As a Brave Champion half his Force conceals,
'Till he some new uncommon Impulse feels,
Then meets an Object worthy of the Fight,
And puts forth all the Wonders of his Might;
His Foes stand trembling, and his Friends admire,
Where slept the hidden Strength and secret Fire:
Thus Halifax's Muse, till William came,
Check'd half her Vigour, and restrain'd her Flame;
Then soaring boldly with no middle Wing,
O'er Earth and Seas persu'd the Godlike King,
Fill'd with new Fury ev'ry glowing Line,
And found a Second Zanthus in the Boyne.
81
Ye Pow'rs! how just, how num'rous is that Song!
How rich the Fancy, and the Vein how strong!
The hurried Reader with the Poet flies,
Yet looks on all he pass'd with longing Eyes,
At ev'ry Prospect equal Passions burn,
Pleas'd he proceeds, yet wishes to return.
How rich the Fancy, and the Vein how strong!
The hurried Reader with the Poet flies,
Yet looks on all he pass'd with longing Eyes,
At ev'ry Prospect equal Passions burn,
Pleas'd he proceeds, yet wishes to return.
Here, Britons, see what different Spirit reigns
In Free-born Muses, and in Slavish Strains:
Observe how artful Boileau sweats and toils,
To plume his Demi-God with borrow'd Spoils;
From Cæsar, or Æneas, steals a Grace,
And forms from Ancient Draughts a Modern Face.
In Free-born Muses, and in Slavish Strains:
Observe how artful Boileau sweats and toils,
To plume his Demi-God with borrow'd Spoils;
From Cæsar, or Æneas, steals a Grace,
And forms from Ancient Draughts a Modern Face.
While Montague secure, without Controul
Fix'd on the Greatness of his Hero's Soul,
Trusts to his Theme his Numbers to inspire,
With proper Raptures, and Poetic Fire.
Fix'd on the Greatness of his Hero's Soul,
82
With proper Raptures, and Poetic Fire.
But, Sir, methinks I hear you check the Song;
That dwells upon his meanest Praise too long,
And bid me trace with a superior Quill,
The Patriot's Wisdom, and the Statesman's Skill.
O! take the mighty Task, for You alone
Can charm in Language equal to his own;
Describe him form'd with ev'ry Grace to please,
Expressive Spirit, Fluency and Ease:
Expert in wise Assemblies to preside,
The doubtful Senate's Oracle, and Guide;
Whose Eloquence, without the formal Art,
Flow'd to convince the Head, and warm the Heart.
Say, when fierce Murmurs, and Contention rose,
(For Virtue finds in ev'ry Reign its Foes,)
His Soul an equal Firmness still maintain'd,
Compos'd their Tumults, and their Heats restrain'd.
That dwells upon his meanest Praise too long,
And bid me trace with a superior Quill,
The Patriot's Wisdom, and the Statesman's Skill.
O! take the mighty Task, for You alone
Can charm in Language equal to his own;
Describe him form'd with ev'ry Grace to please,
Expressive Spirit, Fluency and Ease:
Expert in wise Assemblies to preside,
The doubtful Senate's Oracle, and Guide;
Whose Eloquence, without the formal Art,
Flow'd to convince the Head, and warm the Heart.
Say, when fierce Murmurs, and Contention rose,
(For Virtue finds in ev'ry Reign its Foes,)
His Soul an equal Firmness still maintain'd,
Compos'd their Tumults, and their Heats restrain'd.
83
Or paint Him, watchful over future Fates,
The Turns and Moments of contending States,
Directing where Britannia's Sword should sway
Her dreadful Edge, and where her Thunder play:
Consulting still in each important Aim,
His Country's Safety, and his Monarch's Fame.
The Turns and Moments of contending States,
Directing where Britannia's Sword should sway
Her dreadful Edge, and where her Thunder play:
Consulting still in each important Aim,
His Country's Safety, and his Monarch's Fame.
These Publick Actions be thy juster Choice;
Then, Addison, inspire some second Voice,
To trace his less ambitious Scenes of Life;
Retir'd from Noisy Crouds, and Civil Strife;
Where the free Soul unbends her self to please
In Social Virtues, and in Letter'd Ease;
Where chearful Looks, and friendly Speech give Birth
To wise Enjoyments, and Socratic Mirth.
Then, Addison, inspire some second Voice,
To trace his less ambitious Scenes of Life;
Retir'd from Noisy Crouds, and Civil Strife;
Where the free Soul unbends her self to please
In Social Virtues, and in Letter'd Ease;
Where chearful Looks, and friendly Speech give Birth
To wise Enjoyments, and Socratic Mirth.
For ever, Hampton, Sacred be thy Tow'rs,
Spring fresh thy Greens, and flourish thick thy Bow'rs;
There, still defended by indulgent Skies,
The Warriour's Wreath, and Poet's Garland rise!
These Scenes with deep Regard, Ye Sages, grace;
Ye Bards, with solemn Honours mark the Place;
Raise it as high in Ages yet to come,
As Chaucer's Grove, or Tully's Tusculum.
Then, while Posterity their Acts display,
The Gen'rous Briton shall with Rapture say,
‘These Shades, absolv'd from War, Great William sought,
‘And Halifax in those Recesses thought.
Spring fresh thy Greens, and flourish thick thy Bow'rs;
84
The Warriour's Wreath, and Poet's Garland rise!
These Scenes with deep Regard, Ye Sages, grace;
Ye Bards, with solemn Honours mark the Place;
Raise it as high in Ages yet to come,
As Chaucer's Grove, or Tully's Tusculum.
Then, while Posterity their Acts display,
The Gen'rous Briton shall with Rapture say,
‘These Shades, absolv'd from War, Great William sought,
‘And Halifax in those Recesses thought.
When Sixteen barren Centuries were past,
This Second Great Mæcenas came at last;
In whom Example, and Protection join'd,
All Sciences improv'd, all Arts refin'd,
And made our stubborn English Sense submit
To the just Culture of Athenian Wit.
This Second Great Mæcenas came at last;
In whom Example, and Protection join'd,
All Sciences improv'd, all Arts refin'd,
And made our stubborn English Sense submit
To the just Culture of Athenian Wit.
85
To Thee, Blest Genius! thy Britannia owes
That Learning in a purer Channel flows;
That Vice no more the Price of Virtue reaps,
Nor modest Want in silent Sorrow weeps;
That Glory courts the Wise, the Good, the Strong,
And only virtuous Merit lives in Song.
That Learning in a purer Channel flows;
That Vice no more the Price of Virtue reaps,
Nor modest Want in silent Sorrow weeps;
That Glory courts the Wise, the Good, the Strong,
And only virtuous Merit lives in Song.
Rest then, Great Soul! secure of deathless Fame!
Blest be thy Dust, and sacred be thy Name!
Be it invok'd in all our future Lays,
With Lasting Honour, and Religious Praise,
'Till Cato's Works with Liberty expire,
Or Newton's die in falling Worlds of Fire.
Blest be thy Dust, and sacred be thy Name!
Be it invok'd in all our future Lays,
With Lasting Honour, and Religious Praise,
'Till Cato's Works with Liberty expire,
Or Newton's die in falling Worlds of Fire.
FINIS.
86
ODE ON THE MARRIAGE Of Her Royal Highness The Princess Anne, AND Prince George of Denmark.
87
I.
Whilst black Designs (that direful Work of Fate)Distract the lab'ring State;
Whilst (like the Sea) around loud Discords roar,
Breaking their Fury on the frighted Shoar;
And England does like brave Vienna stand,
Besieg'd by Infidels on either Hand?
What means this peaceful Train? this pompous Sight?
What means this Royal beauteous Pair?
This Troop of Youths, and Virgins heav'nly fair?
That does at once astonish and delight.
Great Charles and his Illustrious Brother here,
No bold Assassinate need fear,
Here is no harmful Weapon found,
Nothing but Cupid's Darts, and Beauty here can wound.
88
II.
How grateful does this Scene appearTo us, who might too justly fear
We never should have seen again
Ought bright, but Armour on the Plain?
Ne'er in their chearful Garb t'have seen the Fair,
While all with melting Eyes, and wild dishevel'd Hair,
Had mourn'd their Brothers, Sons, and Husbands slain.
These dusky Shadows make this Scene more bright,
The Horror adds to the Delight.
This glorious Pomp our Spirits chears; from hence
We lucky Omens take, new Happiness commence.
III.
Thus when the gathering Clouds a Storm prepare,And their black Force Associate in the Air;
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Who with kind Warmth and powerful Rays,
Them to that envy'd Height,
From their mean native Earth did raise.)
A thoughtful Sadness sits on all,
Expecting where the full charg'd Clouds will fall:
But if the Heav'nly Bow
Deck'd like a gawdy Bride appears,
And all her various Robes displays,
Painted by th' conq'ring Sun's triumphant Rays,
It Mortals drooping Spirits chears,
Fresh Joy, new Light, each Visage wears:
Again the Seaman trusts the Main,
The jocund Swains their Coverts leave again:
Again, in pleasant warbl'ing Notes,
The chearful Poets of the Wood extend their tuneful Throats.
90
IV.
Then, then, my Muse, raise with the Lyre thy Voice,And with thy Lays make Fields and Woods rejoyce:
For lo! the heav'nly Pledge appears,
And in bright Characters the Promise bears:
The factious Deluge shall prevail no more,
In vain they foam, in vain they rage,
Buffet in vain the unmov'd Shore,
Her Charms, and Charles's Power, their Fury shall asswage.
See! see! how decently the bashful Bride
Does bear her Conquests, with how little Pride
She views that Prince, the Captive of her Charms,
Who made the North with Fear to quake,
And did that powerful Empire shake;
Before whose Arms, when great Gustavus led,
The frighted Roman Eagles fled.
V.
Whatever then was his Desire,His Cannons did command in Fire:
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His Love in tim'rous Sighs he breaths,
While all his Spoils, and glorious Wreaths
Of Lawrel, at her Feet the vanquish'd Warrior lays.
Great Prince! by that Submission you'll gain more
Than e'er your haughty Courage won before;
Here on your Knees a greater Trophy gain,
Than that you brought from Lunsden's famous Plain;
Where, when your Brother fired with Success,
Too daringly upon the Foe did press,
And was a Captive made; then you alone
Did with your single Arm support the Throne.
Your generous Breast with Fury boiling o'er,
Like Lightning thro' their scatter'd Troops you flew,
And from th' amazed Foe the Royal Prize in Triumph bore.
VI.
You have your Ancestors in this one Act outdone,Tho' their successful Arms did this whole Isle o'er-run.
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You, to enjoy one spotless as your Fame.
Before them, as they march'd, the Country fled,
And back behind them threw
Their Curses as they flew:
On the bleak Shore, expecting you, they stand,
And with glad Shouts conduct to Land:
Thro' gaping Crowds you're forc'd to press your way,
While Virgins sigh, the young Men shout, and old ones pray.
And with this beauteous Lady you may gain
(This Lady that alone
Of greater Value is than any Throne)
Without that Rapine, Guilt, and Hate,
By a calm and even Fate,
That Empire, which they did so short a while maintain.
| The Poetical Works Of the Right Honourable Charles [Montagu] | |