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 | The whole works (1729) |  |
9
TO THE EARL OF SCARBOROUGH.
From my House in Bury St. Edmond's, Octob. 13. 1727.
At Court Unknown, or, what is Worse, I fear
Known only not to have a Patron There;
I Live, My Lord, with an inglorious Fate,
In Country-Quarters Hid, or This Retreat.
Yet when, revisiting my little Nest,
My Wings at liberty, my Cares at rest,
In chearful Innocence I sit and sing;
Methinks I'm Happier than the Happiest King.
But peevish Thoughts, alas! sometimes invade
The soft Recesses of my Fav'rite Shade.
Whoe'er hath Merit, still hath some Design;
And Virtue, when Neglected, will Repine.
The Muse too takes in This Disgrace a Part;
Pretends Her Own, as well as My Desert:
If doubly Arm'd You can't Advance, 'tis Hard:
What! not succeed as Soldier, nor as Bard?
Strait to the Palace She resolves to Hie:
But Heav'n knows how This Stranger must Apply.
Known only not to have a Patron There;
I Live, My Lord, with an inglorious Fate,
In Country-Quarters Hid, or This Retreat.
Yet when, revisiting my little Nest,
My Wings at liberty, my Cares at rest,
10
Methinks I'm Happier than the Happiest King.
But peevish Thoughts, alas! sometimes invade
The soft Recesses of my Fav'rite Shade.
Whoe'er hath Merit, still hath some Design;
And Virtue, when Neglected, will Repine.
The Muse too takes in This Disgrace a Part;
Pretends Her Own, as well as My Desert:
If doubly Arm'd You can't Advance, 'tis Hard:
What! not succeed as Soldier, nor as Bard?
Strait to the Palace She resolves to Hie:
But Heav'n knows how This Stranger must Apply.
If Scarb'rough yet some lucky Hour wou'd Chuse,
(Sure All are not Unlucky to the Muse)
To recommend This Orphan to the Throne;
The Cause can't Fail, which He vouchsafes to Own.
Whilst afar off She Blushing, Trembling, lies,
The King, My Lord, may bid the Virgin Rise,
And She, like Esther, thus, find Favour in His Eyes.
(Sure All are not Unlucky to the Muse)
To recommend This Orphan to the Throne;
The Cause can't Fail, which He vouchsafes to Own.
Whilst afar off She Blushing, Trembling, lies,
The King, My Lord, may bid the Virgin Rise,
And She, like Esther, thus, find Favour in His Eyes.
11
TO THE KING.
While Cam and Isis at Your Royal Feet
Offer'd, Great Sir, th'immortal Fruits of Wit;
While Rev'rend Bards proclaim'd your Sacred Fame,
And the Young Laureat Tribe invok'd your Name;
At humble Distance from th'Harmonious Throng,
To gentle Strains I tun'd some Rural Song,
Whose unambitious Airs, at best, pretend
To cheer in Solitude a pensive Friend:
Profane it seem'd in Me to join the Choir,
And with rude Hands attempt Apollo's Lyre.
Offer'd, Great Sir, th'immortal Fruits of Wit;
While Rev'rend Bards proclaim'd your Sacred Fame,
And the Young Laureat Tribe invok'd your Name;
At humble Distance from th'Harmonious Throng,
To gentle Strains I tun'd some Rural Song,
Whose unambitious Airs, at best, pretend
To cheer in Solitude a pensive Friend:
Profane it seem'd in Me to join the Choir,
And with rude Hands attempt Apollo's Lyre.
But since You hourly spread your Gracious Light,
And chase, where-e'er You Go, the Clouds of Night;
Since your auspicious Rays diffus'd on All,
Sustain the Great, and animate the Small,
The most Remote your Infl'ence shou'd confess,
All Hearts shou'd gratulate, Each Tongue shou'd bless.
After th'Applause of Nobler Poets, then
Vouchsafe t'accept the Homage of his Pen,
Whose Bosom glows with an unusual Flame,
While Loyalty inspires, and You're the Theme;
Who ravish'd sees the Joyful Times retriev'd,
When Your Blest Sire, and Mighty William liv'd.
In You Their diff'rent Virtues are Compleat;
Gentle as George, as Mighty William Great.
And chase, where-e'er You Go, the Clouds of Night;
Since your auspicious Rays diffus'd on All,
Sustain the Great, and animate the Small,
12
All Hearts shou'd gratulate, Each Tongue shou'd bless.
After th'Applause of Nobler Poets, then
Vouchsafe t'accept the Homage of his Pen,
Whose Bosom glows with an unusual Flame,
While Loyalty inspires, and You're the Theme;
Who ravish'd sees the Joyful Times retriev'd,
When Your Blest Sire, and Mighty William liv'd.
In You Their diff'rent Virtues are Compleat;
Gentle as George, as Mighty William Great.
Not Phaeton-like, by rash Ambition hurl'd,
Too Young You Drove the Chariot of the World;
But Form'd by Nature, and Improv'd by Pains,
Explor'd the Road, e'er yet You shook the Reins.
Too Young You Drove the Chariot of the World;
But Form'd by Nature, and Improv'd by Pains,
Explor'd the Road, e'er yet You shook the Reins.
For Empire Born, but Rais'd by just Degrees,
Experience taught You both to Rule and Please;
And like a skill'd Physician, wisely-sure,
You Felt the Nation's Pulse, You meant to Cure.
Experience taught You both to Rule and Please;
And like a skill'd Physician, wisely-sure,
You Felt the Nation's Pulse, You meant to Cure.
13
Believe me, Sir, (and Frown not too Severe,
That thus the Muse familiar greets your Ear)
No Method better can Secure your Throne,
Than still to Know your Subjects, and be Known.
The Gen'rous Britons, Honest, Open, Bold,
Ill bear that Courtiers shou'd Their King withhold:
With Veneration they His Presence Wait,
And think His Person truly makes His State.
Shou'd now the Faithless doubt Your Right Divine,
And, as the Jews of old, demand a Sign;
What Ampler can of God's Vice gerent be,
Than so much Mildness with such Majesty!
That thus the Muse familiar greets your Ear)
No Method better can Secure your Throne,
Than still to Know your Subjects, and be Known.
The Gen'rous Britons, Honest, Open, Bold,
Ill bear that Courtiers shou'd Their King withhold:
With Veneration they His Presence Wait,
And think His Person truly makes His State.
Shou'd now the Faithless doubt Your Right Divine,
And, as the Jews of old, demand a Sign;
What Ampler can of God's Vice gerent be,
Than so much Mildness with such Majesty!
Revolving those Unhappy Kingdoms Fate,
Where Depredations make the Sov'raign Great;
Where Impious Slaves by Adulation rise,
And Kings are Flatter'd into Deities;
At once both Prince and People we Deplore,
Nor know which God Permits to suffer more:
The Monarch's blinded by that Incense-smoke;
And the Gall'd Subject groans beneath the Yoke.
But You, Great Prince! by Law maintain your Sway,
And We by Duty and by Choice Obey.
Where Depredations make the Sov'raign Great;
Where Impious Slaves by Adulation rise,
And Kings are Flatter'd into Deities;
At once both Prince and People we Deplore,
Nor know which God Permits to suffer more:
14
And the Gall'd Subject groans beneath the Yoke.
But You, Great Prince! by Law maintain your Sway,
And We by Duty and by Choice Obey.
Sov'raign of Hearts! Whose Dread, yet lov'd, Commands
Extend o'er distant Seas and various Lands,
What Other Province fairer Tribute Yields
Of flowing Wealth, than fruitful Albion's Fields?
While You with Justice, Sir, and Mercy Reign,
You Shine not on a Barren Land in vain.
What nobler Sight can entertain your Eyes,
Than a Glad Nation's willing Sacrifice?
Which Glorying in a Monarch, Brave and Good,
For Him exhausts her Treasures and her Blood.
Her Sons to Freedom born, with Plenty fed,
Eat not in servile Fear precarious Bread:
Rich in their Father's, or their Own Increase,
To War's rough Storms prefer the Calms of Peace:
Yet Arm'd ne'er fail to Scourge their Country's Foes,
And Scorn all Chains but what Themselves impose.
Extend o'er distant Seas and various Lands,
What Other Province fairer Tribute Yields
Of flowing Wealth, than fruitful Albion's Fields?
While You with Justice, Sir, and Mercy Reign,
You Shine not on a Barren Land in vain.
What nobler Sight can entertain your Eyes,
Than a Glad Nation's willing Sacrifice?
Which Glorying in a Monarch, Brave and Good,
For Him exhausts her Treasures and her Blood.
Her Sons to Freedom born, with Plenty fed,
Eat not in servile Fear precarious Bread:
Rich in their Father's, or their Own Increase,
To War's rough Storms prefer the Calms of Peace:
15
And Scorn all Chains but what Themselves impose.
Sooth'd by your Care, and Carolina's Smile;
The Factions cease, which lately Griev'd our Isle:
And under future Ills She ne'er can Faint,
Supported by a Hero and a Saint.
But Heaven propitious seems to have Design'd
Our Bliss not only Great, but Unconfin'd:
While FRED'RICK, and a long and glorious Train
Of Royal Issue shall o'er Britain Reign;
While Princely Virgins, with collat'ral Grace,
Wear Bridal Crowns, still Destin'd to Your Race.
The Factions cease, which lately Griev'd our Isle:
And under future Ills She ne'er can Faint,
Supported by a Hero and a Saint.
But Heaven propitious seems to have Design'd
Our Bliss not only Great, but Unconfin'd:
While FRED'RICK, and a long and glorious Train
Of Royal Issue shall o'er Britain Reign;
While Princely Virgins, with collat'ral Grace,
Wear Bridal Crowns, still Destin'd to Your Race.
147
TRANSLATIONS FROM Catullus, Tibullus, &c.
To LESBIA.
Ille mî par esse Deo videtur,
Ille, si fas est, superare Divos.
Catull. Carmin. XXIX.
Ille, si fas est, superare Divos.
Catull. Carmin. XXIX.
Blest as th' Immortal Gods, and far more Blest,
(Their careful Providence disturbs Their Rest)
Is the fond Youth, who, gazing on Thy Face,
Adores each dawning Smile, each rising Grace;
148
Whose Speech is Tuneful as the SYREN's Song!
Struck with the pow'rful Magick You dispense,
My Soul's disarm'd of ev'ry Guardian Sense.
A liquid Fire, piercing as Light'ning's Flame,
Darts through my Veins, and loosens all my Frame.
My languid Eyes, and fault'ring Voice confess
That NATURE faints beneath the sweet Excess.
Wrapt in Amaze, Confus'd, Intranc'd I lye,
Lost in soft Transports of Extatick Joy.
Wanton CATULLUS! idly dost Thou Rave!
Art Thou then sunk to be a Woman's Slave?
Sloth and Luxurious Ease are Dang'rous Things.
Beware—they oft have ruin'd mighty Kings.
Those Suns (when Love does once th' Ascendant get)
Who Rose in Glory, in Dishonour Set.
149
The Fourth ELEGY of the Second Book of Tibullus.
Hic mihi servitium video, dominamque paratam.
Jam mihi libertas illa paterna vale.
Jam mihi libertas illa paterna vale.
I see my Fate— I Own the Tyrant Dame—
Freedom adieu! That vain Paternal Claim.
But Hard's the Bondage that the Slave constrains,
Whom LOVE, like Me, for ever binds in Chains!
Offend, or Merit, equal is my Smart.
Cease, cease thy Tortures; spare a bleeding Heart.
Better, than thus in sad Despair to moan,
Transform'd on some bleak Mountain to a Stone,
Or on the naked Beach a Rock, sustain
The Storms of Heav'n, or Fury of the Main!
My Days no Peace, My Nights no Comfort know.
Each Hour's imbitter'd with the Dew of Woe.
My tender ELEGIES in tuneful Pray'r
Have oft assail'd the unrelenting Fair:
But Deaf to Musick's soft Perswasive Pow'r,
No Charm can melt Her but a Golden Show'r.
Farewell then PHŒBUS, and the Muses' Quire!
'Twas not to Sing of Wars I tun'd my Lyre;
Nor to Describe the Travails of the Sun;
And swift-revolving Labours of the Moon.
One Wish Alone invok'd your sacred Aid—
To smooth my Passage to the scornful Maid.
But since Wealth only can Admittance gain,
By Glorious Mischief Riches I'll obtain.
Murther—or Rob—yes Rifle ev'ry Shrine;
And my first Violence, VENUS, be on Thine!
Thou! that Assign'd the mercenary Jilt;
Inspir'd—and Pleas'd beheld the thriving Guilt.
Curst be the Man (His Pride hath Fatal been)
Who first display'd th' Emerald's sprightly Green
The Tyrian Dye, or Coan Bombacine!
Freedom adieu! That vain Paternal Claim.
But Hard's the Bondage that the Slave constrains,
Whom LOVE, like Me, for ever binds in Chains!
Offend, or Merit, equal is my Smart.
Cease, cease thy Tortures; spare a bleeding Heart.
Better, than thus in sad Despair to moan,
Transform'd on some bleak Mountain to a Stone,
Or on the naked Beach a Rock, sustain
The Storms of Heav'n, or Fury of the Main!
150
Each Hour's imbitter'd with the Dew of Woe.
My tender ELEGIES in tuneful Pray'r
Have oft assail'd the unrelenting Fair:
But Deaf to Musick's soft Perswasive Pow'r,
No Charm can melt Her but a Golden Show'r.
Farewell then PHŒBUS, and the Muses' Quire!
'Twas not to Sing of Wars I tun'd my Lyre;
Nor to Describe the Travails of the Sun;
And swift-revolving Labours of the Moon.
One Wish Alone invok'd your sacred Aid—
To smooth my Passage to the scornful Maid.
But since Wealth only can Admittance gain,
By Glorious Mischief Riches I'll obtain.
Murther—or Rob—yes Rifle ev'ry Shrine;
And my first Violence, VENUS, be on Thine!
Thou! that Assign'd the mercenary Jilt;
Inspir'd—and Pleas'd beheld the thriving Guilt.
Curst be the Man (His Pride hath Fatal been)
Who first display'd th' Emerald's sprightly Green
The Tyrian Dye, or Coan Bombacine!
151
These are the Baits that Tempt the Fickle
Sex;
And Lovers Joys with Rival Cares Perplex.
Thus Women Learn't (by Truth secur'd Before)
With Dogs to Guard, with Bolts to Lock the Door.
Presents, alas! are Passports still o'course;
No Dogs then Bark, no Bolts resist their Force.
The Plagues are endless that afflict Mankind,
When Heav'n trusts Beauty to a Venal Mind.
Hence Broils ensue; Hence slighted Youths Blaspheme:
Hence CUPID's grown so Infamous a Name.
But may the Wretch who meanly can Despise
For sordid Pelf True Love (the noblest Prize)
See in fierce vengeful Flames her Treasures blaze;
Or Winds disperse the Heaps her Treach'ries raise.
And when she Dies, neglected will she Fall;
By None Regretted, who had Cheated All.
Far diff'rent Fate the gen'rous Nymph attends,
Whom Kindness, and whom Constancy commends.
Belov'd while Young; Esteem'd when past her Bloom;
In Age Rever'd; and Worshipp'd in the Tomb.
Some Good old Man, Remindful of the Charms
That once had made Him Happy in Her Arms,
Yearly shall Visit her Distinguish'd Urn,
Fresh Garlands strow, or Grateful Odours burn.
Just is the Cause—but ah how Vain to Plead!
For LOVE, at last, will have His Laws obey'd.
With all my Spleen (should NEMESIS Command)
Content I'd sell th' old Mansion Seat, and Land.
Nay more, could All the Drugs THESSALIA bore,
Or wild MÆDEA brew'd on PONTUS' Shore,
Be Mix'd together in one baneful Cup,
To gain a Smile from Her, I'd Drink it up.
And Lovers Joys with Rival Cares Perplex.
Thus Women Learn't (by Truth secur'd Before)
With Dogs to Guard, with Bolts to Lock the Door.
Presents, alas! are Passports still o'course;
No Dogs then Bark, no Bolts resist their Force.
The Plagues are endless that afflict Mankind,
When Heav'n trusts Beauty to a Venal Mind.
Hence Broils ensue; Hence slighted Youths Blaspheme:
Hence CUPID's grown so Infamous a Name.
But may the Wretch who meanly can Despise
For sordid Pelf True Love (the noblest Prize)
See in fierce vengeful Flames her Treasures blaze;
Or Winds disperse the Heaps her Treach'ries raise.
And when she Dies, neglected will she Fall;
By None Regretted, who had Cheated All.
Far diff'rent Fate the gen'rous Nymph attends,
Whom Kindness, and whom Constancy commends.
152
In Age Rever'd; and Worshipp'd in the Tomb.
Some Good old Man, Remindful of the Charms
That once had made Him Happy in Her Arms,
Yearly shall Visit her Distinguish'd Urn,
Fresh Garlands strow, or Grateful Odours burn.
Just is the Cause—but ah how Vain to Plead!
For LOVE, at last, will have His Laws obey'd.
With all my Spleen (should NEMESIS Command)
Content I'd sell th' old Mansion Seat, and Land.
Nay more, could All the Drugs THESSALIA bore,
Or wild MÆDEA brew'd on PONTUS' Shore,
Be Mix'd together in one baneful Cup,
To gain a Smile from Her, I'd Drink it up.
153
The Thirteenth ELEGY of the Fourth Book of Tibullus.
To His MISTRESS.
Nulla tuum nobis subducet femina lectum.
Hoc primùm juncta est fœdere nostra Venus.
Hoc primùm juncta est fœdere nostra Venus.
Think me not False to the First Vows I made;
Nor that some Fairer She may wrong Thy Bed.
The Boasted Arts of All the Sex are Vain:
Their Smiles no Pleasure give, their Frowns no Pain.
154
A Thousand more, perhaps, are Charm'd, like Me;
And O! I wish (let Love the Wish attone)
That Thou wer't Charming in my Eyes Alone!
Vain-glorious Fops, of Envy'd Blessings Proud,
Expose their Treasure to the Rival Crowd;
Delight in idle Show, and empty Noise:
The Wise in Silence brood upon their Joys.
To Forest Wilds I cou'd with Thee retreat,
Where never Path was worn by Human Feet.
No Clime can low'r, where your Bright Looks appear;
No Place seem Desart, when my Love is there.
Nay, I attest Thy JUNO's sacred Pow'r,
(JUNO the Guardian of the Nuptial Bow'r,)
Tho' Tempted by some Beauty of the Skies,
The Heav'n that Beauty profer'd I'd Despise.
What have I said? Fool that I was to Swear,
Or fondly satisfy thy Jealous Fear!
155
(Ah Babling Tongue that did my Heart betray!)
No Hopes of Liberty to Me remain:
But I, a Slave Profess'd, must Drag your Chain.
Lo VENUS! at thy Altar Bound I lye.
O Gentle Goddess Guard Thy Votary!
156
THE NOONING.
Æstus erat, mediamque dies exeger at horam:
Apposui medio membra levando toro.
Apposui medio membra levando toro.
At Noon I laid me down in Bed to Rest.
The Curtains of my Window, slightly drawn,
Let in a doubtful Beam, that look'd like Dawn;
157
Or Twilight twinkling at the Close of Day.
Such pretty Masquerades of Light and Shade
Suit with the Blushes of a Wishing Maid;
And serve, with Decency, to usher in
Ladies who dread the Shame, but love the Sin.
CORINNA lo! appear'd, in loose Array,
Adown Her Neck her comely Tresses stray:
Like Great SEMIRIMIS Her Figure shew'd;
Like LAIS smiled, as Lovely and as Lewd.
I seiz'd Her Gown, and broke thro' that Defense;
(The slender Outwork of Unguarded Sense)
At first she struggled; but 'twas plain to see,
She Fought for Honour, not for Victory.
Stript of Her Robe, and Naked to my View,
How Faultless was Her Make! Her Shape how True!
What Arms I saw and felt! What Plump round Breasts!
And how they Heav'd! — as Longing to be Prest.
158
Beneath Her slender Waste! The Rest — suppose.
Beauty and Youth in their full Vigour shone;
And close I Clasp'd Her Body to my Own.
Spent with Excess of Joy Intranc'd We Lay:
Give me such Noons, ye Gods, to ev'ry Day.
159
The LOVER Militant.
Militat omnis amans, & habet sua castra Cupido:
Attice, crede mihi; militat omnis amans.
Attice, crede mihi; militat omnis amans.
Trust me, Dear Friend, the Parallel will hold.
In Both their Camps alike succeed the Young:
Love Courts the Gay, and Vict'ry Crowns the Strong.
The Old in vain their Useless Weapons weild,
Fumblers in Bed, and Cripples in the Field.
152
And None should dare to Woo, who cannot War.
With Frequent Duty, and with Watching spent,
(The Lover at the Door, the Soldier at the Tent)
On their cold Posts Both lie whole whole Nights Awake;
And often, long and toilsome Marches make.
O'er Hills, through Floods, in Cruel Frost and Snow,
They seek a Mistress, or Pursue a Foe.
No Distance tires, no Hazard can Affright;
The Danger serves but to Provoke the Fight.
In hostile Camps the Chiefs employ their Spies:
And Lovers watch their Rival Lovers Eyes.
Forts are Approach'd by Mine, or Took by Storm:
Ladies Won — Sword in Hand, or else in Form.
Your active Partisans, in Ambush laid,
Surpriz'd in Sleep their Enemies invade:
(As by Finesse the GREEKS did once Destroy
The Troops that RHESUS brought to Succour TROY.
159
While the dull Husband snores, the Wife engage.
Yet sometimes Both Defeated of their Aim,
Repuls'd by Guards, Retire with Loss, and Shame.
Doubtful alike's the Fate of Arms and Love:
The Vanquish'd oft, at last, the Victors prove.
Disgrace befalls as well the Great as Small;
And Those scarce Rise, you'd swear could never Fall.
Let None then Think that Love's a Sport for Boys,
He must Drudge hard, Who gains its utmost Joys.
160
THE RING.
A Present to His Mistress.
Annule, formosæ digitum vincture puellæ,
In quo censendum nil, mihi dantis amor.
In quo censendum nil, mihi dantis amor.
Not for Thy Value, but the Donor's Love.
Go little Ring, and while the wanton Maid
Well-pleas'd surveys Thee on Her Joint display'd,
Tell Her, Thy Circle was contriv'd with Art,
The Type of One That fits a Better Part.
161
O how I wish my — Person in Thy Place!
Then I should oft Her pretty Bubbies feel;
And sometimes too, perhaps, might lower steal,
Slide off her Finger down her glowing Breast,
An Unsuspected, but a Busie Guest.
Or when She seal'd some tender Billet-doux,
And wet the Gem to make th' Impression true,
Admitted to those Charming Lips of Bliss
In rosie Dew I'd snatch a Luscious Kiss.
A Part in any Office let me share:
But to be laid aside — I could not bear:
My Orb contracted to a narrow'r Space
Would closer Cling, nor quit its strict Embrace.
You need, Dear Life, no Scruples entertain:
My Figure's no Disgrace, my Weight no Pain.
Drest, or Undrest, You still may keep Me on;
And ev'n in Bed, or Bathing wear This Stone.
But yet, methinks, if Naked You appear'd,
The Ring wou'd soon into a Man be rear'd;
162
And the Bold Lover act without Disguise.
Come, This is Trifling — Little Gift Depart,
And tell Her that Thou bear'st with Thee My Heart.
163
ON THE DEATH of TIBULLUS.
Memnona si mater, mater ploravit Achillem,
Et tangunt magnas tristia fata Deas;
Et tangunt magnas tristia fata Deas;
If
THETIS Wept, Her Son ACHILLES Slain;
And Human Ills can give Immortals Pain;
O Sable ELEGY! Thy Tresses loose—
Too justly now That Name becomes the Muse.
Thy Glory lost, Thy Harmony Deplore—
The Gentle Soft TIBULLUS is no more.
See! the poor Boy, the Child of VENUS Mourns!
His Smother'd Torch no longer Blazing Burns.
His Empty Quiver hangs Revers'd—and, lo!
He droops His Wings, and breaks His useless Bow,
And beats his naked Breast, in rage of Woe.
Bedew'd with Tears his Locks o'erspread his Eyes,
And his Dear little Heart e'en bursts with Sighs.
In such sad Plight, with such a Piteous Moan
He Wail'd the Trojan Chief his Mother's Son.
Nor does the Goddess less Her Grief express,
ADONIS' Fate scarce gave her more Distress.
And Human Ills can give Immortals Pain;
O Sable ELEGY! Thy Tresses loose—
Too justly now That Name becomes the Muse.
164
The Gentle Soft TIBULLUS is no more.
See! the poor Boy, the Child of VENUS Mourns!
His Smother'd Torch no longer Blazing Burns.
His Empty Quiver hangs Revers'd—and, lo!
He droops His Wings, and breaks His useless Bow,
And beats his naked Breast, in rage of Woe.
Bedew'd with Tears his Locks o'erspread his Eyes,
And his Dear little Heart e'en bursts with Sighs.
In such sad Plight, with such a Piteous Moan
He Wail'd the Trojan Chief his Mother's Son.
Nor does the Goddess less Her Grief express,
ADONIS' Fate scarce gave her more Distress.
Why do They Flatter Us with Mighty Words?
Stile Us Divine? Of Fame the Sov'reign Lords?
Frail Deities, alas! but of a Day,
Whom Death's cold Hand soon turns to Common Clay.
Say, what Avail'd it to the
Bard of THRACE
His Boasted Skill? or His Cœlestial Race?
That He and LINUS own'd One Heav'nly Sire?
That Beasts grew Tame Admonish'd by His Lyre?
Ah LINUS! LINUS! in Condoling Strains
The Lofty Pines Reply, the Sire Complains.
Add We to His the Great Mæonian Name,
Whose Fruitful Fount, feeds each Poetick Stream,
Ev'n He could not the least Exemption have.
His Works indeed still Triumph o'er the Grave.
In Them, tho' long since ruin'd, TROY survives;
And Chaste PENELOPE's Example lives.
Thy Name too DELIA, NEMESIS and Thine,
Alike Recorded shall alike too Shine.
Thou DELIA who his earliest Love didst share,
And Thou sweet NEMESIS his latest Care.
But, what's the Fruit now of Our Pious Fears?
Our Daily Sacrifice? Our Nightly Prayers?
If Good Men suffer thus (Forgive me JOVE)
Who can Believe a Providence Above?
Nor Faith, nor Purity can stop Our Doom:
Death drags Us from the Altar to the Tomb.
Is Verse Thy Pride? See! where TIBULLUS lyes—
How small an Urn will Those Remains suffice.
And have then Fun'ral Flames without controul
Laid Waste the Temple of that Tuneful Soul?
O Perish, Perish the Rever'd Abodes,
The Glitt'ring Temples of the Faithless Gods,
Who Patient could Behold the Guilty Scene,
That drew ev'n Tears from Beauty's Tyrant Queen.
Stile Us Divine? Of Fame the Sov'reign Lords?
Frail Deities, alas! but of a Day,
Whom Death's cold Hand soon turns to Common Clay.
165
His Boasted Skill? or His Cœlestial Race?
That He and LINUS own'd One Heav'nly Sire?
That Beasts grew Tame Admonish'd by His Lyre?
Ah LINUS! LINUS! in Condoling Strains
The Lofty Pines Reply, the Sire Complains.
Add We to His the Great Mæonian Name,
Whose Fruitful Fount, feeds each Poetick Stream,
Ev'n He could not the least Exemption have.
His Works indeed still Triumph o'er the Grave.
In Them, tho' long since ruin'd, TROY survives;
And Chaste PENELOPE's Example lives.
Thy Name too DELIA, NEMESIS and Thine,
Alike Recorded shall alike too Shine.
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And Thou sweet NEMESIS his latest Care.
But, what's the Fruit now of Our Pious Fears?
Our Daily Sacrifice? Our Nightly Prayers?
If Good Men suffer thus (Forgive me JOVE)
Who can Believe a Providence Above?
Nor Faith, nor Purity can stop Our Doom:
Death drags Us from the Altar to the Tomb.
Is Verse Thy Pride? See! where TIBULLUS lyes—
How small an Urn will Those Remains suffice.
And have then Fun'ral Flames without controul
Laid Waste the Temple of that Tuneful Soul?
O Perish, Perish the Rever'd Abodes,
The Glitt'ring Temples of the Faithless Gods,
Who Patient could Behold the Guilty Scene,
That drew ev'n Tears from Beauty's Tyrant Queen.
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Yet thus 'twas Better, in his Native Land
To meet his Fate, than on a Foreign Strand,
Huddled in Dirt by some Phœacian Hand.
His Mother here Her kind Concern could shew;
Close his Dim Eyes, and Give a last Adieu:
His Sister Testifie Her tender Care
With Hands Uplifted, and Dishevel'd Hair:
And the Fair Partners in His Heart too prove
Rivals in Sorrow as before in Love.
DÆLIA, Departing from the Mournful Train,
Cry'd, “Hapless Object of my Present Pain!
“I Charm'd Thee once, nor Charm'd Thee then in vain;
“Vigour and Joy Danc'd sparkling in thy Eyes.”
Stung with the Thought, Proud NEMESIS Replies:
“Boast not the Sallies of his roving Youth:
“ His Last Faint Dying Grasp Confirm'd His Truth.”
To meet his Fate, than on a Foreign Strand,
Huddled in Dirt by some Phœacian Hand.
His Mother here Her kind Concern could shew;
Close his Dim Eyes, and Give a last Adieu:
His Sister Testifie Her tender Care
With Hands Uplifted, and Dishevel'd Hair:
And the Fair Partners in His Heart too prove
Rivals in Sorrow as before in Love.
DÆLIA, Departing from the Mournful Train,
Cry'd, “Hapless Object of my Present Pain!
“I Charm'd Thee once, nor Charm'd Thee then in vain;
“Vigour and Joy Danc'd sparkling in thy Eyes.”
Stung with the Thought, Proud NEMESIS Replies:
168
“ His Last Faint Dying Grasp Confirm'd His Truth.”
If, when the Body's Dead, the Spirit flies
To seek new Seats, and more Indulgent Skies,
TIBULLUS sure will That Elysium find
Where Dwell the Brave, the Virtuous, and the Kind.
There Learn'd CATULLUS shall Salute His Ghost,
And Gen'rous CALVUS meet Him on the Coast.
There GALLUS too (if
Violated Fame
Compell'd the Heroe to that sad Extream)
Well-pleas'd shall entertain the Gentle Guest
Who now augments the Number of the Blest.
And here may no rude Hand disturb His Bones.
Light fall the Cov'ring Earth, and Decent lye the Stones.
To seek new Seats, and more Indulgent Skies,
TIBULLUS sure will That Elysium find
Where Dwell the Brave, the Virtuous, and the Kind.
There Learn'd CATULLUS shall Salute His Ghost,
And Gen'rous CALVUS meet Him on the Coast.
169
Compell'd the Heroe to that sad Extream)
Well-pleas'd shall entertain the Gentle Guest
Who now augments the Number of the Blest.
And here may no rude Hand disturb His Bones.
Light fall the Cov'ring Earth, and Decent lye the Stones.
The Name of One of the MUSES as well as of That Kind of POESY over which She Presided, and in which TIBULLUS excelled.
Instead of Ælinon, as it is usually Printed, it should be αι λινον, i. e. ah Linon. LINUS was Son of APOLLO, and Instructed ORPHEUS in Musick: But notwithstanding His high Descent and extraordinary Talents, Perish'd like a Common Mortal.
TIBULLUS attending MESSELLA in his Expedition to the EAST, was seiz'd with a Violent Sickness, and had like to have Died in the Island of Corfu, formerly called Phænicia. See Tibull. Lib. I. Eleg. III.
TIBULLUS in his First Elegy, the Latter Part of which is Addressed to DELIA, makes her a very fond Insinuation of his Constancy in these Two Beautiful Lines:
Te Spectem Suprema mihi cum venerit hora,
Te teneam morient deficiente manu.
Te teneam morient deficiente manu.
OVID artfully introduceth NEMESIS repeating the Last of Them in a kind of Triumph over Her Rival, who had, 'tis probable, been Neglected for some time by Her Lover, while the other Enjoyed those very Marks of his Endearment which she had been flattered with the Hopes of.
CATULLUS, although He Died very Young, had the Reputation not only of Great Wit, but of Excellent Learning, and that in the Opinion of the most Learned, and which may still seem more Extraordinary, in That of the most Witty of the Age in which He lived.
If Violated Fame, &c. To make this Passage Familiar to the ENGLISH Reader, it will be necessary to enter a little into the History of GALLUS. He was a Person whom AUGUSTUS had raised from a Private Condition to the highest Degree of Trust and Power. He was afterwards Accused of having Abused his Master's Favour, not only by an Arbitrary Administration, and great Oppression in ÆGYPT, over which Kingdom He had been sent to Preside, when it was reduced into a Province; but also by an Insolent and Neglectful Behaviour towards the EMPEROR Himself, especially if He happened to be Heated with Wine. The Malice of his Enemies, and his own imprudent Conduct at length Disgraced Him. And (as the Ingratitude of One Man is generally Punished by the Treachery of Another) his Bosom-Friend and most Intimate Companion. VALERIUS LARGUS, was the Chief Instrument in his Prosecution and Ruin. His Resentment of the severe Proceedings in the SENATE against him. (They having Condemned HIM to Banishment, and his ESTATE to Confiscation) and the Indignation he conceived at the base Treatment he met with from ONE he had so much Caressed and Obliged, tempted him to lay violent Hands upon Himself. AUGUSTUS expressed His Concern for his Death in a Style worthy so Great and so Gracious a PRINCE; and, in a sort of Rebuke to the SENATE for their Harsh Sentence, Complained of His hard Fate, who Alone, said He, was not Allowed to Chastise the Failings of His FRIENDS after his own Manner. GALLUS was a most Accomplished ROMAN, and is Celebrated by VIRGIL and all the Best POETS of his Age. The Judicious will observe, that though OVID touches upon this Subject with great Delicacy, yet in those Days it was thought no Crime to do Honour to the Memory of a Fallen COURTIER, who had many Shining and Valuable Qualities.
171
TO HIS Grace the Duke of ARGYLL; WITH THE Life of Pomponius Atticus.
The Muse, that Scorns to Flatter, or Defame,
In ev'ry Change of Fortune still the Same;
That, Careless how the Factious Crowd Divide,
Courts not their Folly, nor their Leader's Pride;
To Thee, ARGYLL! who wer't Her earliest Praise,
Aspires once more Her Faithful Voice to raise:
Nor Fears the Strain can Unharmonious be,
That Sings of ATTICUS, and Sings to Thee.
Viewing This Image of ROME's Fav'rite Son,
Pleas'd She Beheld Some Features Like Your Own.
Like Thee He Liv'd Untainted in an Age
Deform'd with Crimes, and Mad with Civil Rage.
Like Thee He firmly to the Laws Adher'd,
Yet more by Prudence than by Party Steer'd.
Like Thee He Learn'd Ambition to Despise,
Yet Gaz'd on Glory with a Lover's Eyes.
Like Thee when Rais'd by Favour, or Success,
Desert He Cherish'd; and Reliev'd Distress.
Like Thee Disdaining each low Vulgar End,
Confess'd the Patriot, and Avow'd the Friend.
Like Thee He met—ah Worst of Human Wrongs!
Ungrateful Hearts, and false Invidious Tongues.
But pass We That Severe Remembrance by.
The Palms Oppress'd shoot faster to the Sky.
In ev'ry Change of Fortune still the Same;
That, Careless how the Factious Crowd Divide,
Courts not their Folly, nor their Leader's Pride;
To Thee, ARGYLL! who wer't Her earliest Praise,
Aspires once more Her Faithful Voice to raise:
172
That Sings of ATTICUS, and Sings to Thee.
Viewing This Image of ROME's Fav'rite Son,
Pleas'd She Beheld Some Features Like Your Own.
Like Thee He Liv'd Untainted in an Age
Deform'd with Crimes, and Mad with Civil Rage.
Like Thee He firmly to the Laws Adher'd,
Yet more by Prudence than by Party Steer'd.
Like Thee He Learn'd Ambition to Despise,
Yet Gaz'd on Glory with a Lover's Eyes.
Like Thee when Rais'd by Favour, or Success,
Desert He Cherish'd; and Reliev'd Distress.
Like Thee Disdaining each low Vulgar End,
Confess'd the Patriot, and Avow'd the Friend.
Like Thee He met—ah Worst of Human Wrongs!
Ungrateful Hearts, and false Invidious Tongues.
But pass We That Severe Remembrance by.
The Palms Oppress'd shoot faster to the Sky.
173
O Fam'd in in Council! as Renown'd in Fight!
Contemplate here this Old Illustrious Knight;
In all Events Superior to His Fate;
Divinely Good, as Eminently Great:
Whose Gen'rous Exit shew'd Him to Excell
No less in Dying than in Living well.
How Few in Those last Conflicts do We find
But Sink beneath the Burthen of their Mind?
Tho' Valour Guards the Tent, or State the Door,
The Scene soon changes in That Dreadful Hour.
Each Guilty Thought will then press rudely in,
Like CÆSAR Stab'd by our own Darling Sin.
But He knew Nothing to Alarm His Soul:
No Clouds of Vice His Sunshine did Controul:
With undiminish'd Lustre He Retreats,
And as He mildly Rose, as calmly Sets.
Contemplate here this Old Illustrious Knight;
In all Events Superior to His Fate;
Divinely Good, as Eminently Great:
Whose Gen'rous Exit shew'd Him to Excell
No less in Dying than in Living well.
How Few in Those last Conflicts do We find
But Sink beneath the Burthen of their Mind?
Tho' Valour Guards the Tent, or State the Door,
The Scene soon changes in That Dreadful Hour.
Each Guilty Thought will then press rudely in,
Like CÆSAR Stab'd by our own Darling Sin.
But He knew Nothing to Alarm His Soul:
No Clouds of Vice His Sunshine did Controul:
With undiminish'd Lustre He Retreats,
And as He mildly Rose, as calmly Sets.
174
Shall then some Pedant Scribe, or Rev'rend Drone
That dully Nods upon a Pulpit-Throne,
Who meanly Merit by Profession Scan,
Exclude from Heaven this Just, this Pious Man?
Sure Faith Alone is but a Weak Pretence;
And Want of Charity is Want of Sense.
The Barren Fig-tree was of right Accurst,
But the Fair Fruitful Vine for Use was Nurst.
That dully Nods upon a Pulpit-Throne,
Who meanly Merit by Profession Scan,
Exclude from Heaven this Just, this Pious Man?
Sure Faith Alone is but a Weak Pretence;
And Want of Charity is Want of Sense.
The Barren Fig-tree was of right Accurst,
But the Fair Fruitful Vine for Use was Nurst.
Give Me Thou Power
Immortal! and Unchang'd!
Whose Care Paternal has through Ages rang'd;
(Christian or Pagan, Both Thy Influence felt,
Whose Bounty is to All Thy Creatures dealt)
Give Me to Travel o'er those Realms of Light,
Where EPICTETUS shines serenely Bright;
Where VARRO and POMPONIUS lead the Way;
Who Follow Virtue ne'er can Go astray.
Whose Care Paternal has through Ages rang'd;
(Christian or Pagan, Both Thy Influence felt,
Whose Bounty is to All Thy Creatures dealt)
Give Me to Travel o'er those Realms of Light,
Where EPICTETUS shines serenely Bright;
Where VARRO and POMPONIUS lead the Way;
Who Follow Virtue ne'er can Go astray.
175
PROLOGUE To the TRAGEDY of Sir Walter Raleigh.
Struck with each Ancient Greek or Roman Name,Blindly We Pay Devotion to Their Fame.
Their Boasted Chiefs in Partial Lights are shown:
Neglect, or Envy, still Attends Our Own.
Poets and Priests, the People to Deceive,
Form Gods and Heroes Neither do Believe.
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He brings Unquestion'd Wonders to Your View.
An English Martyr shall Ascend the Stage,
To Shame the Last, and Warn the Present Age.
The Tragic Scene with moving Art will tell
How Brave He Fought — how Wrong'd the Soldier Fell.
Ambition is a Mistress Few enjoy!
False to Our Hopes, and to Our Wishes Coy;
The Bold She Baffles, and Defeats the Strong;
And All are Ruin'd Who Pursue Her long.
Yet so Bewitching are Her Fatal Charms,
We think it Heav'n to Dye within Her Arms.
Thus RALEIGH Thought—and in the Glorious Strife
Immortal Honour gain'd—but lost His Life.
Jealous of Virtue that was so Sublime,
His Country Damn'd His Merit as a Crime.
The Traytor's Doom did on the Patriot Wait:
He Sav'd—and then He Perish'd by the State.
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(Unhappy Kings! They See with Others Eyes)
Weakly Consented to the Guilty Deed,
And made Three Kingdoms in their Champion Bleed.
BRITONS, by This Example Taught, Unite!
Wound not the Publick out of Private Spight.
To Great Atchievements Just Rewards allow;
Nor tear the Lawrel from the Victor's Brow.
Exert Your Vigour in the Nation's Cause;
But Grudge no Rival His Deserv'd Applause.
Safely We may Defy MADRID or ROME,
If no Sly GUNDAMOR Prevails at Home.
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