An Heroic Epistle to the Rev. Richard Watson ... Enriched with elaborate Notes, and very learned References [by T. J. Mathias] |
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 | An Heroic Epistle to the Rev. Richard Watson |  |
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AN HEROIC EPISTLE, &c.
Thou, that with theologic glory crown'd,
With Granta's hallow'd tiar circled round,
Survey'st aloft in professorial chair
The storms engendred in politic air;
Tho' veil'd in clouded majesty, thy rays
Still dart too lustrous for the vulgar gaze;
Thee I approach! tho' Dukes before thy shrine
With mitred Fathers in prostration join.
Oh, while my muse essays th' aspiring theme,
With temper'd radiance on her labours beam;
Lest she thy fierce meridian fervors mourn,
And, like the Persian, shou'd adore—but burn.
With Granta's hallow'd tiar circled round,
Survey'st aloft in professorial chair
The storms engendred in politic air;
Tho' veil'd in clouded majesty, thy rays
Still dart too lustrous for the vulgar gaze;
8
With mitred Fathers in prostration join.
Oh, while my muse essays th' aspiring theme,
With temper'd radiance on her labours beam;
Lest she thy fierce meridian fervors mourn,
And, like the Persian, shou'd adore—but burn.
Nor thou o'erlook, with supercilious frown
This humble tribute of a bard unknown;
For such the temper of these hapless times,
Fools only trust their titles with their rhymes;
Proud of some little fame, whate'er it be,
Knight, or Esquire, A. M. or L. L. D.
This humble tribute of a bard unknown;
For such the temper of these hapless times,
Fools only trust their titles with their rhymes;
Proud of some little fame, whate'er it be,
Knight, or Esquire, A. M. or L. L. D.
9
Fir'd with his country's wrongs, when Junius hurl'd
His patriot thunder o'er a courtier world;
When, with each meaner, pension'd, minion lord
Thy Grafton trembled at his fiscal board;
A Roman own'd the more than Roman strain—
But Draper's well-meant signature was vain.
Macgreggor bade Sir William's deathless name
Stand aye recorded in the rolls of Fame;
For Him, for Yven-ming, and sage Li-Tsong,
Pour'd the full tide of energetic song;
Struck with a magic hand the genuine chords,
Gave strength to wit, and thrilling power to words.
His patriot thunder o'er a courtier world;
When, with each meaner, pension'd, minion lord
Thy Grafton trembled at his fiscal board;
A Roman own'd the more than Roman strain—
But Draper's well-meant signature was vain.
Macgreggor bade Sir William's deathless name
Stand aye recorded in the rolls of Fame;
10
Pour'd the full tide of energetic song;
Struck with a magic hand the genuine chords,
Gave strength to wit, and thrilling power to words.
Yet think not here, with undiscerning rage
I'd tear each honest author from his page.
When late the woe-begone Britannia mourn'd,
And saw her Roscius “quietly inurn'd;”
Of all her sons, rose Sheridan alone!
He spoke a Nation's feelings in his own;
Hung the poetic tablet on his hearse,
Stood forth confest, and dignified the verse.
I'd tear each honest author from his page.
When late the woe-begone Britannia mourn'd,
And saw her Roscius “quietly inurn'd;”
Of all her sons, rose Sheridan alone!
He spoke a Nation's feelings in his own;
11
Stood forth confest, and dignified the verse.
But lighter themes a lighter care demand,
Nor asks each subject for a finish'd hand.
When Fashion's motley Wreath young T*ck*l wove,
And vied with Gloster's dean for Tucker's love;
Tho' keen the sense, and musical the lays,
He fear'd t' anticipate his future praise.
Nor asks each subject for a finish'd hand.
When Fashion's motley Wreath young T*ck*l wove,
And vied with Gloster's dean for Tucker's love;
Tho' keen the sense, and musical the lays,
He fear'd t' anticipate his future praise.
Me, tho' no fortune gilds, no genius fires,
Nor Brinsley's wit, nor Greggor's muse inspires;
Tho', nor the Polar, nor great Brunswick's star
Guide my lone course ypointing from afar;
Tho' round my Richard's temples lambent play
No beams from Britain's king, or rich Cathay;
Yet will I burst my chain, in prudence' spite,
And dare assert my long-neglected right.
Heavens! can I view indignant, yet supine,
E'en snuffy Pinchy rais'd to heights divine?
Say, shall Sir William's bard, well-bronz'd Shebbeare,
Ring in the fragment of thy Tory ear
His studied pomp of phrase and accents big?
Rise, muse, and vindicate the Christian Whig!
The Proteus Hill shone forth in Churchill's line:
The Proteus Watson shall illumine mine.
Nor Brinsley's wit, nor Greggor's muse inspires;
Tho', nor the Polar, nor great Brunswick's star
Guide my lone course ypointing from afar;
12
No beams from Britain's king, or rich Cathay;
Yet will I burst my chain, in prudence' spite,
And dare assert my long-neglected right.
Heavens! can I view indignant, yet supine,
E'en snuffy Pinchy rais'd to heights divine?
Say, shall Sir William's bard, well-bronz'd Shebbeare,
Ring in the fragment of thy Tory ear
13
Rise, muse, and vindicate the Christian Whig!
The Proteus Hill shone forth in Churchill's line:
The Proteus Watson shall illumine mine.
How shall I trace thee, various as thou art,
Thro' all the windings of thy head and heart?
How shall I stile thee, in this laggard age,
Chemist, Archdeacon, or Professor sage?
Thee, fire, air, earth, thy ministers, obey,
And own reluctant thy arch-chemic sway:
Thro' church, thro' state, in halcyon calm or storm,
Thou “runn'st perpetual circle multiform.”
'Tis thus in Burke's unequall'd page we find
The British Sov'reign shifting like the wind:
Full-orb'd at first, o'er James's favour'd ground,
His undivided glory spreads around;
“Shorn of his beams,” on Snowdon's misty height,
The Prince of Gallia meets the wond'ring sight;
Dwindled and shrivell'd in the northern air,
Behold him next a Duke of Lancaster!
Westward proceed—that character he drops,
And on your steps the Earl of Cestria pops:
Again he rises as Lancastria's Count;
But when the pilgrim winds o'er Edgecombe's Mount,
The King, the Count, the Earl—all disappear,
And Cornwall's Duke concludes the strange career!
Thro' all the windings of thy head and heart?
How shall I stile thee, in this laggard age,
Chemist, Archdeacon, or Professor sage?
14
And own reluctant thy arch-chemic sway:
Thro' church, thro' state, in halcyon calm or storm,
Thou “runn'st perpetual circle multiform.”
'Tis thus in Burke's unequall'd page we find
The British Sov'reign shifting like the wind:
Full-orb'd at first, o'er James's favour'd ground,
His undivided glory spreads around;
15
The Prince of Gallia meets the wond'ring sight;
Dwindled and shrivell'd in the northern air,
Behold him next a Duke of Lancaster!
Westward proceed—that character he drops,
And on your steps the Earl of Cestria pops:
Again he rises as Lancastria's Count;
But when the pilgrim winds o'er Edgecombe's Mount,
The King, the Count, the Earl—all disappear,
And Cornwall's Duke concludes the strange career!
When first your name adorn'd the college-roll,
A generous ardour seiz'd your opening soul:
From paths severe, by honest fame inspir'd,
No pleasure lur'd you, and no labour tir'd;
Calm, tho' aspiring, eager, and yet cool;
“Strong without rage; without o'erflowing full:”
While you with Julian impetus prest on,
Science in vain oppos'd her Rubicon.
Your judgment with the lunar influence vied,
Temp'ring below your learning's mighty tide.
You, their Cornutus, purpled youth addrest,
And sunk well-pleas'd in your Socratic breast;
Majestic Henry glanc'd propitious down,
And lilied Edward bless'd the peaceful gown.
A generous ardour seiz'd your opening soul:
From paths severe, by honest fame inspir'd,
No pleasure lur'd you, and no labour tir'd;
Calm, tho' aspiring, eager, and yet cool;
“Strong without rage; without o'erflowing full:”
While you with Julian impetus prest on,
Science in vain oppos'd her Rubicon.
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Temp'ring below your learning's mighty tide.
You, their Cornutus, purpled youth addrest,
And sunk well-pleas'd in your Socratic breast;
Majestic Henry glanc'd propitious down,
And lilied Edward bless'd the peaceful gown.
When Chemia claim'd your philosophic aid,
You deftly ply'd th' unutterable trade;
Scann'd her defects, and with a Bacon's skill
Wielded the massy elements at will.
Nature invites:—to caverns deep you hied,
And pierc'd the tracts to mortal ken denied:
Fearless, alone, thro' Cornwall's mineral night,
Your professorial vans you spread for flight;
There, with insatiate, jealous eyes explore
Each crude consistence and metallic ore:
When lo! escap'd from that obscure sojourn,
The grimy circle hail your safe return;
Eager they press, they shout, they stare, they gape,
And view a Watson, as we view an ape!
“Our auricles percuss'd by fame sonorous,
“Your mirabundous acts had brought before us,”
When Granta call'd you to her calm retreats,
Nigh founder'd in such subterranean feats.
Your o'erfraught breast now labour'd with its store:
With novel truths, scarce faintly guess'd before,
Enlarg'd your Chemia's ancient narrow bounds,
And added length to vulgar English sounds;
Nor rested here; but at your magic glance,
From either Zone portentous forms advance!
Caffres with apron-bellies from the Cape,
Moon-ey'd Albinos, and of dreaded shape
The Orang-Outang stalks from Java's woods,
With dwarfs that quake on Zembla's frozen floods;
The goodly groupe grin round with mutual stare,
And wonder who the devil brought them there!
You deftly ply'd th' unutterable trade;
Scann'd her defects, and with a Bacon's skill
Wielded the massy elements at will.
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And pierc'd the tracts to mortal ken denied:
Fearless, alone, thro' Cornwall's mineral night,
Your professorial vans you spread for flight;
There, with insatiate, jealous eyes explore
Each crude consistence and metallic ore:
When lo! escap'd from that obscure sojourn,
The grimy circle hail your safe return;
Eager they press, they shout, they stare, they gape,
And view a Watson, as we view an ape!
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“Your mirabundous acts had brought before us,”
When Granta call'd you to her calm retreats,
Nigh founder'd in such subterranean feats.
Your o'erfraught breast now labour'd with its store:
With novel truths, scarce faintly guess'd before,
Enlarg'd your Chemia's ancient narrow bounds,
And added length to vulgar English sounds;
19
From either Zone portentous forms advance!
Caffres with apron-bellies from the Cape,
Moon-ey'd Albinos, and of dreaded shape
20
With dwarfs that quake on Zembla's frozen floods;
The goodly groupe grin round with mutual stare,
And wonder who the devil brought them there!
Change, change the notes: with solemn strains and slow,
In diapason let the numbers flow!
He comes! He comes! the ermin'd robe prepare,
And high exalt him in the mystic chair!
With should'ring haste see gown'd Impatience throng—
Hark! o'er the dome what thunder rolls along!
While from his lips in theologic fume
Verbocinations Latial despume.
Hear from thy moth-worn case, Aquinas, hear,
Thy long-lost Latin drink with greedy ear:
Bright Scotus calls, and flutt'ring thro' the schools,
Dim metaphysic forms wave high their dusky cowls!
In diapason let the numbers flow!
He comes! He comes! the ermin'd robe prepare,
And high exalt him in the mystic chair!
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Hark! o'er the dome what thunder rolls along!
While from his lips in theologic fume
Verbocinations Latial despume.
Hear from thy moth-worn case, Aquinas, hear,
Thy long-lost Latin drink with greedy ear:
Bright Scotus calls, and flutt'ring thro' the schools,
Dim metaphysic forms wave high their dusky cowls!
22
But why should you be deeply cogitating
Our State's naufrageous and periclitating?
Tho' hush'd in grim repose, with bristled hair,
Old England's Lion couches in his lair;
She smiles, my Richard, with undaunted heart,
While you so nobly play her Lion's part;
“Rend with tremendous sound our ears asunder”
With France, Spain, Ireland, and Canadian thunder:
But should the Duke enraptur'd bid you roar
In louder rattling accents than before;
Yet ah! relent—those rumbling words may tear
The tender labyrinth of soft Wrottesly's ear!
Our State's naufrageous and periclitating?
Tho' hush'd in grim repose, with bristled hair,
Old England's Lion couches in his lair;
She smiles, my Richard, with undaunted heart,
While you so nobly play her Lion's part;
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With France, Spain, Ireland, and Canadian thunder:
But should the Duke enraptur'd bid you roar
In louder rattling accents than before;
Yet ah! relent—those rumbling words may tear
The tender labyrinth of soft Wrottesly's ear!
Attend, e'er yet too late, Discretion's voice;
That Gospel first you chose, be still your choice:
Then from your high-rais'd throne energic call
To penitence and faith with sainted Paul;
The state to Edmund leave, who knows the ground;
Lest deeds like yours Fame's postern trump should sound.
The chiefs of willow'd Academe survey;
How each one plan pursues, one constant way.
See Tully's fire from Granta's Ulpian breaks,
And Celsus still in aged Plumtree speaks:
Mark cloister'd Gl---n, with well-extended foot,
Wrapt up in Rowley and his red surtout;
Nor George, nor North, nor Fox, his cares engage,
But P---r---y's roll, and Warton's glossing page:
While Atwood dares the philosophic war;
“His spear a sun-beam, and his shield a star.”
That Gospel first you chose, be still your choice:
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To penitence and faith with sainted Paul;
The state to Edmund leave, who knows the ground;
Lest deeds like yours Fame's postern trump should sound.
The chiefs of willow'd Academe survey;
How each one plan pursues, one constant way.
See Tully's fire from Granta's Ulpian breaks,
And Celsus still in aged Plumtree speaks:
Mark cloister'd Gl---n, with well-extended foot,
Wrapt up in Rowley and his red surtout;
25
But P---r---y's roll, and Warton's glossing page:
While Atwood dares the philosophic war;
“His spear a sun-beam, and his shield a star.”
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In vain I call—Ambition seems to say,
“Arise, the cloud-veil'd presence lights your way;
“Fear not, tho' hostile tempests idly rave,
“The potent rod divides the blushing wave:
“Pass on, great champion of your country's cause,
“Prop of her church, and bulwark of her laws!
“Lo Marah streams nectareous o'er the plain,
“And all around heav'n's dulcet dew-drops rain:
“With bold, intrepid strides pursue your plan,
“And dare do all that may become my man!”
“Arise, the cloud-veil'd presence lights your way;
“Fear not, tho' hostile tempests idly rave,
“The potent rod divides the blushing wave:
“Pass on, great champion of your country's cause,
“Prop of her church, and bulwark of her laws!
“Lo Marah streams nectareous o'er the plain,
“And all around heav'n's dulcet dew-drops rain:
“With bold, intrepid strides pursue your plan,
“And dare do all that may become my man!”
Thus erst the wily Florentine essay'd,
Whose glowing pen the tyrant Prince portray'd;
With spirit-stirring eloquence to break
The bands of peace, to bid Lorenzo wake
The sleeping instruments of mortal war,
And under semblance just spread desolation far.
Whose glowing pen the tyrant Prince portray'd;
With spirit-stirring eloquence to break
The bands of peace, to bid Lorenzo wake
The sleeping instruments of mortal war,
And under semblance just spread desolation far.
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If strains like these should urge you to explore
The waves that beat upon the world's high shore,
Those dangerous paths a Wolsey trod before;
Reflect how oft humility has thrown
Her snow-white surplice o'er the heart's black gown.
Should e'en kind Fortune to her suppliant yield,
And grant that crosier which you burn to wield;
Shou'd you, sublime in the prelatic chair,
Forget in full-blown pride what once you were;
Refuse to act great Lowth's or Porteous' part,
And on the forefront of an honest heart
With them, in sun-bright characters record
Unsullied Holiness to Heav'n's dread Lord—
Yet condescend this worldly truth to know,
And bind it high upon your mitred brow;
—The slippery path Ambition's sons prepare,
May lead to Lambeth, or—the K**g knows where.
The waves that beat upon the world's high shore,
Those dangerous paths a Wolsey trod before;
Reflect how oft humility has thrown
Her snow-white surplice o'er the heart's black gown.
Should e'en kind Fortune to her suppliant yield,
And grant that crosier which you burn to wield;
Shou'd you, sublime in the prelatic chair,
Forget in full-blown pride what once you were;
Refuse to act great Lowth's or Porteous' part,
And on the forefront of an honest heart
With them, in sun-bright characters record
Unsullied Holiness to Heav'n's dread Lord—
Yet condescend this worldly truth to know,
And bind it high upon your mitred brow;
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May lead to Lambeth, or—the K**g knows where.
FINIS.
| An Heroic Epistle to the Rev. Richard Watson | |