University of Virginia Library

VERSES

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN ADDRESSED TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF PORTLAND, CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY, ETC. ON HIS INSTALLATION, 1793.

In evil hour, and with unhallowed voice
Profaning the pure gift of Poesy,
Did he begin to sing, he first who sung
Of arms, and combats, and the proud array
Of warriors on the embattled plain, and rais'd
The aspiring spirit to hopes of fair renown
By deeds of violence. For since that time
The imperious victor, oft, unsatisfied
With bloody spoil and tyrannous conquest, dares
To challenge fame and honour; and too oft
The Poet bending low to lawless power
Hath paid unseemly reverence, yea, and brought
Streams, clearest of the Aonian fount, to wash
Blood-stain'd ambition. If the stroke of war
Fell certain on the guilty head, none else;
If they that make the cause might taste the effect,
And drink themselves the bitter cup they mix,
Then might the Bard (though child of Peace) delight
To twine fresh wreaths around the conqueror's brow,
Or haply strike his high-toned harp to swell
The trumpet's martial sound, and bid them on,
Whom Justice arms for vengeance: but, alas!
That undistinguishing and deathful storm
Beats heaviest on the exposed innocent;
And they that stir its fury, while it raves,
Stand at safe distance; send their mandate forth
Unto the mortal ministers that wait
To do their bidding. Ah, who then regards
The widow's tears, the friendless orphan's cry,
And famine, and the ghastly train of war?
That follow at the dogged heels of war?
They in the pomp and pride of victory
Rejoicing, o'er the desolated earth,
As at an altar wet with human blood,
And flaming with the fire of cities burnt,
Sing their mad hymns of triumph, hymns to God
O'er the destruction of his gracious works,
Hymns to the Father o'er his slaughter'd sons.
Detested be their sword, abhorr'd their name,
And scorn'd the tongues that praise them! Happier, Thou,
Of Peace and Science friend, hast held thy course
Blameless and pure, and such is thy renown.
And let that secret voice within thy breast
Approve thee; then shall those high sounds of praise
Which thou hast heard, be as sweet harmony,
Beyond this concave to the starry sphere
Ascending, where the spirits of the blest
Hear it well-pleas'd. For Fame can enter heaven,
If Truth and Virtue lead her; else forbid,
She rises not above this earthly spot;
And then her voice, transient and valueless,
Speaks only to the herd. With other praise,
And worthier duty may she tend on thee;
Follow thee still with honour, such as Time
Shall never violate, and with just applause,
Such as the wise and good might love to share.