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Poems and Songs

by Thomas Flatman. The Fourth Edition with many Additions and Amendments

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To my Friend Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN Upon the Publication of his POEMS.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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To my Friend Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN Upon the Publication of his POEMS.

I.

As when a Prince his Standard do's erect,
And calls his Subjects to the Field,
From such as early take his side,
And readily obedience yield,
He is instructed where he may suspect,
And where he safely may confide;
So mighty Friend;
That you may see
A perfect evidence of Loyalty,
No business I pretend;
From all th' Incumbrances of humane life,
From nourishing the sinful peoples strife,
And the increasing weaknesses of Age.


II.

Domestick Care, the Minds incurable Disease
I am resolv'd I will forget,
Ah! could I hope the restless pain
Would now intirely cease,
And never more return again,
My thoughts I would in other order set;
By more than protestations I would show,
Not the Sum total only of the Debt,
But the particulars of all I owe.

III.

This I would do: But what will our desire avail
When active heat and vigour fail?
'Tis well thou hast more youthful Combatants than I,
Right able to protect thy Immortality:
If Envy should attaque thy spotless name,
(And that attaques the best of things
And into rigid Censure brings
The most undoubted Registers of Fame)


Their fond Artillery let them dispence,
Piercing Wit and Murd'ring Eloquence,
Noble Conceit and manly Sence,
Charming Numbers let 'em shine
And dazle dead in ev'ry line
The most malicious of thy Foes,
Though Hell it self should offer to oppose;
I (thy decrepit Subject) only can resign
The little life of Art is left, to ransom thine:
Fumbling's as bad in Poetry,
And as Ridiculous, as 'tis in Gallantry:
But if a Dart I may prevent,
Which at my Friend's repute was meant
Let them then direct at Me;
By dying in so just a War,
I possibly may share
In thy Infallible Eternity.


IV.

But dearest Friend
(Before it be too late)
Let us a while expostulate,
What heat of Glory call'd you on,
Your learned Empire to extend
Beyond the Limits of your own Dominion?
At home, you were already crown'd with Bayes:
Why Foreign Trophies do you seek to raise?
Poets Arcana's have of Government,
And tho' the Homagers of your own Continent
Out of a Sense of duty do submit,
Yet Publick Print, a jealousie creates
And intimates a lay'd design
Unto the Neighb'ring Potentates.
Now into all your secret Arts they pry,
And weigh each hint by rules of policy,
Offensive Leagues they twine,
In Councils, Rota's, and Cabals they sit,
Each Petty Burgess thinks it fit
The Corporation should combine,


Against the Universal Monarchy of Wit,
And streight declare for quite abjuring it.

V.

Hence then must you prepare for an Invasion:
Tho not from such as are reclaim'd by Education;
In the main points all European Wits agree,
All allow Order, Art, and Rules of Decency,
And to be absolutely perfect, ne're was yet
A Beauty such, or such a Wit.
I fear the Pagan and the Barbarous,
A Nation quite Antipodes to us;
The Infidel unletter'd Crew (I mean)
Who call that only Wit,
Which is indeed but the Reverse of it;
Creatures in whom Civility ne're shone,
But (unto Nature's contradiction)
It is their Glory to be so obscene,
You'ld think the Legion of th' unclean
Were from the Swine, (to which they were condemn'd) releas'd.
And had these verier Swine, (than them) possest.


VI.

If these should an advantage take
And on thy Fame a Depredation make,
You must submit to the unhappiness;
These are the common Enemies of our Belief and Art,
And by hostility possest
The World's much greater part:
All things with them are measur'd by success:
If the Battel be not won;
If the Author do not sell;
Into their dull capacities it will not sink,
They cannot with deliberation think
How bravely the Commander led them on,
No nor wherein the Book was written well:
When, ('tis a thing impossible to do,)
He cannot find his Army courage, (Sir) nor you
Your Readers, Learning, Wit, and Judgment too.
Robert Thompson