 | An Ode to the Duke of Argyll |  |
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TO THE Duke of ARGYLL.
An ODE.
I
Attend, O Cambel! nor refuseThe Tribute which a free-born Muse,
Unsought, uninfluenc'd brings!
Truth sanctifies an honest Praise;
Let the Slave blush, who tunes his Lays
For Ministers or K---s!
II
'Twas glorious Labour, when afarYou spread the horrid Front of War,
In trembling Europe's Cause.
As glorious, when exalted Sense
Pours the big Flood of Eloquence,
For Britain and her Laws.
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III
Nor yet less glorious, beaming forth,Thy Virtues cheer'd the drooping North,
A long-benighted Croud!
Like Truth's fair Messenger you spoke,
And quick the saving Radience broke,
Thro' black Corruption's Cloud.
IV
What tho' no Senate then could hear,Nor shouting Hosts salute thine Ear,
With Triumph's proud Acclaim!
Yet Virtue bade her Powers rejoice,
And Conscience sang with sweeter Voice,
Than all the Trumps of Fame.
V
Tho' Fortune shift the various Scene,Unchang'd, Determin'd, and Serene,
The Patriot shines confest.
Far, far unlike the vainly Great,
Who sullen fall from troubled State,
To plunge in gloomy Rest.
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VI
In vain shall Sloth's inglorious TribeReject the base Seducer's Bribe,
The sordid Hireling's Shame:
Whether with Ease, or Wages won,
Whether for Self, or Friend, or Son,
The Bribe is still the same.
VII
Low Prudence! narrow-minded Care!Who thrifty, hoard your separate Share,
Unvex'd with publick Pains;
When Fraud shall swell Tyrannic Power,
When lawless Rapine shall devour,
Compute your boasted Gains!
VIII
Go then, ye impotent of Soul,Produce your Freedom's vaunted Scroll,
And tame and humble wait;
'Till spurn'd the sully'd Prize shall lie,
Or in mock Triumph rais'd on high,
Proclaim some Tyrant's State!
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IX
Nor rests the great eternal Cause,On the frail Base of Human Laws,
Disjointed and perplext:
Law may a guilty Few controul,
'Tis Virtue must direct the Whole,
And mend the mortal Text.
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TO THE Earl of Marchmont.
An ODE.
I
Restrain thy Tears! the pious SonEnough hath wept the honour'd Sire;
Thy Race of Glory just begun,
It now were impious to retire:
Then spite of hard unequal Laws,
Rise in thy sinking Country's Cause!
II
Thrice happy Youth, whose first EssaysJudicious, honest, firm, and bold,
In S--- gain'd impartial Praise,
Where Reason, Honour, Faith, were s---d;
And strengthening Truth with graceful Art,
Pour'd St. John's Words, from Cobham's Heart.
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III
Strange Force of Virtue thus exprest,The Guilty catch the sacred Flame;
And honest Nature shines confest,
Thro' adverse Power, and Pride, and Shame.
Tyrants the potent Impulse own,
And they who sculk beneath a Throne.
IV
Lo! where the lash'd Offender stands,Aghast with Anger, Fear, Surprize;
And now he lifts his trembling Hands,
And now he rolls his haggard Eyes;
While all around the down-look'd Tribe,
Half wish away the tempting Bribe.
V
Yet farther still, brave Youth, proceed!Let Freedom stamp the Patriot's Page;
E're Law restrain the glorious Deed,
E're Letters sink in Gothic Rage:
And unconfin'd by Time or Place,
Write, teach, and save a better Race!
FINIS.
| An Ode to the Duke of Argyll | |