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POETS, 

OWPER; 

TED, 

L  AND  CRITICAL, 

lANSLATIONS. 


-IVES 

^ERS.  F.S.A. 


.UME8. 


MBRVILB, 
iVAOE, 

virr. 


.  AND  C.  RIVINGTON  i    W.  OTEID6E  4ND  ffOM 
ONi    T.  PAYNE  I    O.  ROBINSON;    WILKIE  AND 
M  (   J.  WALKER  ;  VERNOR.  ROOD,  ABTD  SHARPE 
i    COTHELL  AND  MARTIN:   CLARKE  AND  SONS 
IND  DAVIES;  J.  BARKER;  JOHN  RiqHARDSON 
URRAY ;  W.  MILLER  ;  i.  AND  A.  ARCH  ;  BLACK. 
J.  MACKINLAY;  J.  UATCUARD;   R.  H.  EVANS  r 
AND  W.  WYNNES   AND  W.  ORACE.     DRICHTOM 


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THE 

WORKS 


OTTHS 


ENGLISH    POETS, 

FROM  CHAUCER  TO  COWPERi 


IMCLinMIIO  THB 


SERIES  EDITED, 


WITH 


PREFACES,  BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  CRITICAL, 

BY  DR.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON: 


THE  MOST  APPROVED  TRANSLATIONS. 


TRC 


ADDITIONAL  LIVES 
BY  ALEXANDER  CHALMERS,  F.S.A. 


IN  TWENTY-ONE  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  XI. 


LAN8DOWNB» 
YALDBN» 
^TICKELL, 
HAMMOND^ 


-SOMSRVILBy 
SAVAGE, 
SWIFT. 


LONDON: 

rtOmD  POft  J.  JOHNBONt  J.  NICHOLS  AND  SON  ;  R.  BALDWIN ;  F.  AND  C  RIVINGTON :  W.  OTEIDOE  AND  ffON 
Lim  AND  BOTHEBT:  R.  PAULDBE  AND  SONj  O.  NICOL  AND  SON)  T.  PAYNE;  O.  ROBINSON;  WUXIE  AND 
lOBniW>ll  i  C.  DAVm ;  T.  BGERTON ;  SCATCHCRD  AND  LETTERBfAN  t  J.  WALKER  ;  VERNOR,  ROOD,  AND  SHARPS ; 
I.  LEA;  J.  NVNN }  LACUNOrON^  ALLEN,  AND  CO. ;  J.  STOCKDALE;  CUTHELL  AND  MARTIN ;  CLARKE  AND  SONS ; 
J.  WHrrS  AND  CO.  I  UmONAN,  HVRST,  RBES,  AND  ORNE  t  CADELL  AND  DAVIFS ;  J.  BARKER ;  JPUN  RiqUARDSON ; 
J.  M.  RICHARDtON;  J.  CARPENTER ;  B.  CROSBY  ;  E.  JEFFERYi  J.  UVRRAY ;  W.  MILLER  ;  J.  AND  A.  ARCH  ;  BLACK. 
FABRY.  AND  KIWOBDRY;  J.  BOOKER i  %  BAGSTRR;  J.  HARDING;  J.  MACKINLAY}  J.  HATCUARD;  R.  H.  EVANS r 
■ATmWB  AND  LEIOHi  J.  MAWMAN  ;  J.BOOTH}  J.  ASPERNE;  P.  AND  W.  WYNNBi  AND  W.  ORACC.  DRICHTON 
ARD  SOU  AT  ^*Mfi«o",  AND  WILSON  AND  SON  AT  YORK. 


1810. 


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c.  WHitrrKOUAis.  wnvtr, 

Omi»«U  Street,  Loodou. 


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CONTENTS. 


VOL.  XJ. 


POEMS  OF  LANSDOWNE. 


Pane 

THE  Author's  Life»  by  Dr,  Jobnion  3 
Preface    9 

To  the  Earl  of  Peterborough,  cm  bis  haj^y 
Aoeofnpt'lshment  of  the  Marriage  between 
his  royal  Higbuessaod  the. Princess  Mary 
lyErte.  of  Modena 11 

Spoken  by  the  Author,  being  then  not  twelve 
Years  of  Age,  to  her  royal  Highness  the 
Dutchess  of  York,  at  Trinity  College  in 
Cambridge  12 

To  the  King,  in  the  first  Year  of  bis  Majesty's 
Retgn   ....«..., ib. 

To  the  King ib. 

To  the  King    lb. 

To  the  Author,  on  his  foregoing  Verses  to  the 
King.     By  Mr.  Edmund  WaHer ib. 

Answer.    To  Mr.  Waller ...     ib. 

To  the  immortal  Memory  of  Mr.  Edmund 
Waller,  upon>his  Death IS 

To  Myra.    Laring  at  fint  Sight  ib 

To  Myra ib. 

Song.    To  Myra ib. 

Ao  Iroitatioo  of  the  second  Chorus  in  the  se- 
cond Act  of  Seneca's  Tbyestes  a '..    ib. 

A  loyal  Eabovtatiob.  Written  in  the  Year 
1688 ...* 14 

Verses  sent  to  the  Author,  in  his  Retireroetit. 
Written  by  Mra.Elis«bcth  Hfggons.. ib. 

Occ^ooed  by  the  foregoing  Venes.  Written 
in  the  Year  1690    ib. 

floogv — ^Love  is  by  Fancy  led  about  15 

Beauty  and  Law.    A  poetical  Pleading    ib. 

Lady  Hyde  ....^..« 17 

Lady  Hyde  having  the  Small-POK,  soon  after 
the  Recovery  of  Mrs.  Mohun ib. 

The  DMtcheis  of  — ,  unseasonably  surprised 
in  the  Embraces  of  her  Lord ib. 

To  Flavia.  Written  on  her  Garden  m  the 
North ib 

To  the  same:  her  Gardens  having  escaped  a 
Flood  that  had  laid  all  the  Country  round 
underwater ib. 


Pa«e 

To  my  Friend  Dr.  Garth.     In  his  Sickness  ...  IS 

To  my  dear  Kinsman,  Charles  Lord  Lans- 
downe,  upon  the  Bombardment  of  tbe  Town 
of  Granville,  in  Normandy,  by  the  English 

Fl^.et ib. 

Lady  Hyde,  sitting  at  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller's 

for  her  Picture    ib. 

To  Mrs.  Granville,  of  Wotton  in  Buckiogbam- 

tihircj  afterwards  I^dy  Conway  ib. 

To  Mre.  Afra  Behn ib. 

The  Desertion 19 

Song. — ril  te  I  her  thf  ucxt  time,  said  I  ib. 

In  Praise  of  Myra , ib. 

Song.    To  Myra    ifa^ 

Myra  singing ,..  ib, 

Mvra.  At  a  Review  of  the  Guards  in  Hyde- 
Park 00 

To  Myra ib. 

The  Progiess  of  Beauty ib. 

To  the  Countess  <^Newbourg,  insisting  earnt^tly 

to  be  tuld  who  1  meant  by  Myra  2*2 

To  Myra 23 

To  Myra ib. 

To  Myra .: ib. 

Song  to  Myra Hk 

To  Myra ib. 

Soug  to  Myra ||». 

To  Myra 24 

Phyllis  drinking , lb. 

To  Myra ib. 

Ilie  Knchantment.  In  Imiution  of  Theocritus,  tb. 

The  Vision  ,  26 

Adieu  L*Amour » ib. 

I»ve 27 

Meililat  ion  on  Death ib. 

E.ssay  upon  unnatural  Flights  in  Poetry    ....  ib. 

Explanatory  Annotations  on  the  foregoing  Poem.  28 

Epigrams  and  Characters,  Jtc 30 

Inscription  for  a  Figure  representing  the  God 

of  Love... ib. 

Definition  of  Love , ib^ 


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vi  CONTENTS. 

Pl?C 

Wom«ii    30 

The  Relief  < ib. 

Sent  to  Garinda  with  a  Novel,  entitled,  Les 

Malheure  de  TAmour ib. 

Written  in  her  Prayer-Book ib. 

9ong  to  the  same. — In  vain  a  thousand  slaves 

havetry'd ib. 

On  the  same lb. 

Her  Name ib. 


Cleora..... 

aoe 

Mrs.  Clavering,  singing 

Song. — ^The  happiest  mortals  once  were  we ... 

The  wild  Boar's  Defence -v^ 

For  Liberality « 

Corinna    

Cloe 

A  Receipt  for  Vapours  

On  an  ili-favoured  Lord ». 

Qoe 


On  the  same   

Corinna    ^ .' 

Cloe  perfuming  herself  

Belinda    

Impromptu  written  under  a  Picture  of  the 

Countess  of  Sandwich^  drawn  in  man's  Habit. 
To  my  Friend  Mr.  John  Dryden,  on  his  several 

excellent  Translations  of  the  ancient  Poets . 

Drinking  Song  to  Sleep ; 

tfritten  upon  a  drinking  Glass  under  Mrs. 

Hare's  Name 

Under  the  Dutchess  of  Bolton's 

Under  the  Lady  Harper's 


ib. 
31 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
lb. 
ib. 
32 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 
ib. 

33 

ib. 
ib. 

ib. 
ib. 
ib. 


Under  the  Lady  Mary  Villier's  Name 34 

Cupid  disarmed.  To  the  Princess  lyAuvergnei  ib. 

Explication  in  French    ib. 

Bacchus  disarmed.    To  Mrs.  Laura  Dillon, 

now  Lady  Falkland    ib. 

Thjrrsis  and  Delia.    Song  in  Dialogue H>. 

A  Latin-  Inscription  on  a  Medal  for  Lewis  XIV. 

ofFranoe ib. 

Englished,  and  applied  to  Queen  Anne iU 

Uixanda's  Prophecy.     Spoken  by  Way  of 

Epilogue  to  the  British  Enchantera  35 

Prologue  to  the  British  Enchanters  ib. 

Another  Epilogue,  designed  for  the  same ib. 

Prohigue  to  Mr.  Bevil  Higgon's  excellent  Tra- 

TOdy,  called  the  Generous  Conqueror  ib. 

Epilogue  to  the  Jew  of  Venice 36 

Probgue  to  the  She-Gallants;    or  once  a 

Lover,  and  always  a  Lover    s...  ib. 

'Ode  on  Uie  present  Corruption  of  Mankind  . ..  ib. 

Fortune.    Epigram ^ 37 

Character  of  Mr.  Wycheriey ib. 

Verses  written  in  a  iieaf  of  the  Author's  Poems, 

presented  to  the  Queen ib. 

Written  in  a  Leaf  of  the  same  Poems,  pre- 
sented to  the  Princess  Royal ib. 

Written  on  a  Window  in  the  Tower,  where  Sir 

Robert  Walpole  bad  been  confined ib. 

Peleus  and  Thetis.    A  Masque,  set  to  Music,  ib. 

Preface  to  the  British  Enchanters...'. 40 

The  British  Enchanters ;    or,  no  Magic  like 

Love,  a  dramatic  Poem 42 

Epilogue,  by  the  right  honourable  Joseph  Ad-  ^ 

dison,  Esq. 56 


POEMS  OF  YALDEN. 


The  Author's  Life,  by  Dr.  Johnson   59 

Against  immoderate  Grief 63 

Hymn  to  the  Morning.    In  Praise  of  tight ...    ib. 

Hymn  to  Darkness 64 

Human  Life.    Supposed  to  be  spoken  by  an 

Epicure    65 

A^inst  Enjoyment « 66 

The  Curse  of  Babylon.  Isaiah,  Chap.  xiii.  pa- 
raphrased     • *' ib. 

To  Mr.  Coogreve :    an  epistolary  Ode,  occa- 
sioned by  the  Old  Bachelor 67 

The  Insect  against  Bulk 68 

To  hb  Friend  Captain  Chamberlain,  in   bve 
with  a  Lady  he  had  taken  in  an  Algerine 

Prize  at  Sea ib. 

To  Mr.  Watson,  on  his  ^hemeris  of  the  Ce- 
lestial Motions,  presented  to  her  Majesty...    69 
The  Rape  of  Theutilla.    ImiUted  from  the 

Latin  of  Famianus  Strada ib 

An  Ode  for  St  Cecilia's  Day.  1693  71 

The  Force  of  Jealousy.    To  a  Lady  asking  if 
her  Sex  was  as  sensible  of  that  Passion  as 

Man  ib. 

To  his  peijured  Mistress     72 

Imitation  of  Horace.  Book  i.  Ode  xxH 73 

^troolns's  Request  to  Achilles  fbr  his  Arms. 
Aixati^XeA  Jtpm  the  Beginning  of  the  six- 
*.tc5:nt^1Uad^.llIoaicr..r.;.l ib. 

*  "    *     *       -    •^ci :- : 


On  the  reprinting  M)lton*6  prose  Works  with 

his  Poems    74 

To  Sir  Humphry  Mackworth :  on  the  Mines, 

late  of  Sir  Carberry  Price ib. 

Grid's  Art  of  Love.    Book  the  Second 75 

An  Essay  on  the  Character  of  Sir  W.  Aston. ..  82 

To  the  Memory  of  a  fisir  young  Lady,  1 697 ...  85 

ToMjrra.    Written  in  her  Cleopatra   ib. 

Advice  to  a  Lover  .^  i&. 

On  Che  Cum^uest  of  Namur.   A  Pindaric  Ode.  ib. 

isop  AT  comrr ;  oa,  sbuct  mblis,  1702. 

Fable  I.  The  River  and  the  Fountains 87 

II.  The  Iion*s  Treaty  of  Partition  88 

IH.  The  blind  Woman  and  her  Doctors.,  ib. 

IV.  The  Satyr's  Address    89 

V.  The  Farmer  and  his  Dog ;....  ib. 

VL  The  Fox  and  Bramble ib. 

Vn.  The  Fox  and  Weaz'.e  90 

VIH.  An  Owl  and  th^  Sun  ib. 

IX.  The  Sea  and  the  Banks ib. 

X.  The  Nightingale  and  Cuckow 91 

XI.  The  Sun  and  the  Wmd  ib. 

Xlf.  The  Boar  and  Forest 92 

XI  n.  The  Fox  and  Flies   ib. 

XIV.  The  Bear  and  Mountebank    ib. 

XV.  The  Peacock  proclaimed  King  93 

XVfb  A  Lacmic  condemned; ib* 


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CONTENTS. 


vu 


POEMS  OF  TICKELL. 


The  Author's  Life,  by  Br.  Johnaou    97 

On  Queen  Caroline's  lebuilding  the  Lodgings 
of  the  filack  Prince  and  Henry  V.  at  Qoeen's 
College,  Cambridge ..^ 101 

To  the  sQpposed  Anibat  of  the  Spectator ib. 

A  Poem,  to  bis  Evcellency  the  Lord' Privy- 
Seal,  on  the  Prospect  of  Peace  102 

To  Mr.  Addison,  on  his  Opera  of  Rosamondp..  106 

To  the  same;  on  his  Tragedy  of  Cato ib. 

The  Boyal  Progress ib. 

Aa  Imitation  of  the  Prophecy  of  Nereus.  From 
Borace/Book  ii.  Ode  XV 108 

An  Epistle  from  a  Lady  in  England  to  a  Gen- 
tleman at  Avignon  ib. 

An  Ode,  occasioned  by  bis  Excellency  the  Earl 
of  Stanhope's  Voyage  to  France,  1718 110 

Proiofne  to  the  University  of  Oxfqrd,  1713...    ib. 

TboDghts  occasioned  by  the  Sight  of  an  origi- 
nal Picture  of  King  Charles  L  taken  at  the 
Time  of  his  Trial     Ill 

A  Fragment  of  a  Foemon  Hunting  ib. 

To  Apollo  making  Love.  From  Monsieor  Fon- 
tenclle 112 


Pa|ir 

The  fatal  Curiosity , w.  113 

To  a  lady,  with  a  ]t>escription  of  the  Phenix..  ib. 
A  Description  of  the  Phenix.  From  Claudian.  iby 
Verses  to  Mrs.  Lowther  on  her  Marriage  .1....  1 14 

To  a  Lady.    With  a  Present  of  Flowers  ib. 

On  a  lady's  Picture.   To  Gilfred  Lawson,  Esq.    ib. 

Part  of  the  fourth  Book  of  Locan 115 

Dedication  to  the  first  Book  of  Homer^  Hind..  116 

The  first  Book  of  the  Iliad ib. 

To  the  Eari  of  Warwick,  on  the  Death  of  Mr. 

Addison    ......••y«T*.*«^.<» **•...••...•.•.  122 

Colin  and  Lucy.   /A  BaUad^' ib. 

To  Mr.  Godfrey  Kheller,  at  his  country  Seat.  123 

On  the  Death  of  the  Earl  of  Cadogan  ib. 

An  Ode  inscribed  to  the  Earl  of  Sonderiand  at 

Windsor  124 

Kensington  Garden ib. 

To  a  Lady  before  Marriage   128 

A  Poem  in  Praise  of  the  Horn-Book 129 

Theristes ;  or,  the  Lordling,  the  Grandson  of 

a  Bricklayer,  great  Grandson  of  a  Butcher.  130 
Oxford:  a  Poem ib. 


POEMS  OF  HAMMOND. 


the  Author's  Life,  by  br.  Johnson    137 

Prefiice,  by  Lord  Chesterfield 139 

lOVB  BLEOISS. 

L  On  his  iiilliDg  in  love  with  Nenea   141 

IL  Unable  to  satisfy  the  covetous  Temper 
of  Nirsea,  he  intends  to  make aCam- 
paign,  and  try,  if  possible,  to  foiget 

her...... ib. 

IIL  He  upbraids  and  threatens  the  Avarice 

of  Neraea,  and  resolves  to  quit  her  ...  142 

IV.  Tj>  his  Frieml,  written  tinder  the  Con- 

fineraient  of  a  long  Indisposition  ib. 

V.  The  Lover  is  at  fif«t  introduced  speak- 

ing to  bis  Servant,  he  afterwards  ad- 
dresses himself  to  his  Mistress,  and  at 
last  there  is  a  supposed  Interview  be- 
tween them  ib. 

TU  He  a4)ures  Delia  to  pity  him,  by  their 
Friendship  with  Cselia,  who  was  lately 
dead  .,« *....* ,»  143 


VIL  On  Delia's  being^in  the  Coontry,  whero 
he  supposes  she  sta3r8  to  see  the  Har- 
vest   145 

VIIL  He  despairs  that  he  shall  ever  possess 

Delia il>. 

IX.  He  has  lost  Delia ib. 

X.  On  Delia's  Birth-day  144 

XL  Against  Lovers  gohig  to  War,  in  which 

he  philosophically  prefers  Love  and 
Delia  to  the  more  serious  Vanities  of 

the  World ib. 

XIL  To  Delia  ,.    ib. 

XIII.  He  imagines  himself  married  to  Delia, 

and  that,  content  with  each  other, 
they  are  retired  into  the  Country    ...    ib. 

XIV.  To  Delia  145 

XV.  To  Mr.  George  Grcnville    Ib. 

XVL  To  Miss  Ditfhwood  146 

Prologue  to  Lillo^s  Etmerie   ....^ ib. 


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TUl 


CONTENTS. 


POEMS  OF  SOMERFILE. 


The  Author's  Life,  by  Dr.  Johnaon    149 

Preface  to  the  Chase  151 

To  William  Somervile,  Esq.  od  his  Poem  called 

th#iCha»e 154 

To  the  Author  of  the  Chase   ib. 

TbeChase.    Book  1 155 

Jl    158 

Iir 16'2 

IV 166 

Uobbinot,  or  the  Rural  Games.     A  Batles4)ue 

Poem.    Inscribed  to  Mr.  Uosarth    171 

Preface IT*^ 

Canto  1 174 

II 176 

HI ; 180 

Field  Sports.    Addressed  to  bis  royal  Uigh- 

oess  the  Prince. 
Adfertisement 184 

OCCASIONAL  POIMS,  TaAMSLATIOlCS,  FABLES,  AKB 
TALIS* 

To  William  Somervlle,  Esq.  on  reading  seve- 
ral of  bis  excellent  Poems,  by  Allan  Ram- 
sey    187 

An  Ode,  humbly  inscribed  to  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough  upon  his  Removal  from  all 
his  Places 188 

Ode,  occasioDed  by  the  Duke  of  Marlborough's 
embarking  for  Ostend.    An.  1713 189 

To  Mr.  Addisoa,  occasioned  by  his  purchasing 
an  EsUte  in  Warwickshire    190 

An  Imitation  of  Horace,  Book  ir.  Ode  ix 192 

To  Dr.  Mackenzie  193 

The  Wife 194 

In  Memory  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Moore  ib. 

Epitaph  upon  Hugh  Lumber,  Husbandman  »     ib. 

The  Hip.  To  William  Colmore,  Esq.  The 
Day  after  the  great  Meteor,  in  March,  1715.  ib. 

To  a  Lady,  who  made  me  a  Present  of  a  sil- 
ver Pen    195 

Presenting  to  a  Lady  a  white  Rose  and  a  Red, 
on  the  tenth  of  June  ib. 

The  Bowling-Green ib. 

The  LamentatioQ  of  Darid  over  Saul  aud  Jo- 
nathan   197 

To  a  young  Lady,  with  the  Iliad  of  Homer 
translated    198 

An  Epistle  to  Allan  Ramsey  ib. 

Answer  to  the  above  Epbtle.  By  Allan  Ram- 
sey    199 

To  Allao  Ramsey,  upon  his  publishing  a  se- 
cond Volume  of  Poems  5200 

To  the  Author  of  the  Essay  on  Man 201 

Epistle  to  Mr.  Thomson,  on  the  first  Edition 
of  his  Seasons ib. 

To  the  right  honourable  Lady  Anne  Coventry. 
Upon  viewing  her  fine  Chimoey-Piece  of 
Shell-work  ib. 

Address  to  his  elbow  Chair,  new  ck>thed  202 

Song. — As  o'er  Asteria's  fields  I  rove    ib. 

Paraphrase  upon  a  French  Soog  ib. 


Hodibras  and  Milton  reconciled.  To  Sir  Adol- 

phusOugbton 203 

Upon  Miranda's  leaving  the  Country  ib. 

ToPhyllb * lb. 

To  the  right  honourable  the  Earl  of  Halifax, 

with  the  Fable  of  the  two  Springs «(U 

A  Song  for  the  Lute   ib. 

The  Coquet « ib. 

The  superannuated  Lover ib. 

Advice  to  the  Ladies 203 

Anacreontic.    To  Cloe  drinking    ib. 

To  a  discarded  Toast ib. 

The  petjured  Mistress.    From  Horace,  Epod. 

XV.  ad  Neseram   ib. 

To  a  young  Lady,  who  spent  the  Night  in 
Tears,  upon  a  Report  that  her  Brother  was 

U»'fight  a  Duel  next  Morning    ib. 

To  Dr.  M—  readmg  Mathematics    206 

From  Martial,  Kpig.  xlvii ib- 

To  a  Oeutlemao,  who  married  his  last  Mis- 
tress.    From  Horace,  Book  iii.  Ode  ix ib. 

A  dainty  new  Ballad,  occanoned  by  a  Clergy- 
man's Widow  of  seventy  Years  of  Age  being 

married  to  a  young  Excisendan ib. 

Canidia*s  Epithalamium.    Upon  the  same  ...  2tn 

Hunting  Song ib. 

A  Translation  of  Horace^  Ep.  x 208 

The  Miser's  Speech.     From  Horace,  E{iod.  ii.  ib. 

Fable  I.  The  captive  Trumpeter  20* 

II.  The  bald-paled  Welshman  and  the 

Fly 210 

I H.  The  Ant  and  the  Fly    tb, 

IV.  The  Wolf,  the  Fox,  and  the  Ape    ...  21  I 

V.  The  Dog  and  the  Bear ib. 

VI.  The  wounded  Man  and  the  Swarm  of 

Flies ib. 

VIL  The  Wolf  and  the  Dog  ibw 

VIIJ.  The  Oyster 212 

IX.  The  Sheep  and  the  Bush    tb. 

X.  The  Frog's  Choice  ib. 

XI.  Liberty  and  Love ;  or,  the  two  Spar- 
rows   213 

XII.  The  two  Springs 214 

XIII.  Tlie  bald  Batchebr:  being  a  Para- 

phrase upon  the  second  Fable  in 

the  second  Book  of  Pbednis   215 

XIV.  The  Fortune-Hlinter   217 

The  Devil  outwitted.    A  Tale 225 

The  officious  Messenger.    A  Tale ih. 

The  inquisitive  Bridegroom.    A  Tale    227 

Bacchus  triumphant.    A  Tale  228 

ITie  Night-Walker  reclaimed.    A  Tale    , 2«9 

The  happy  Disappointment.    A  Talc    232 

A  Padlock  for  the  Mouth 235 

The  wise  Builder.    ATalc ib. 

TbetrueUseoftheLooking-Olas^s.    A  Tale..  234 
Mahomet  Ali  Beg ;  or,  the  faitbf^il  Minister 

of  State   ,.     ib. 

The  sweet-scented  Miser    237 

The  incurious  Bencher  238 

The  busy  Indolent.   A  Tale ib. 

The  Yeoman  of  Kent    A  Tale 239 

The  happy  Lunatic.    To  Doctor  M— ,  a  Tale.  240 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CONTENTS. 


in. 


POEMS  OF  SAVAGE. 


Paie 

The  Aothor't  Iife»  by  Dr.  Johnson .243 

Dedication  '. 298 

Tlie  Wanderer:  a  Visioo.     In  five  Cantos. 

Canto  I ,.... 301 

IL 504 

m 307 

IV 309 

V.  311 

Preface  to  the  Bastard 317 

TheBasUrd 318 

HUCBLLAMIOVS  IVBMf. 

Venes  occasioned  by  the  right  bonourabk  the 
Lady  Visoountess  TyrcoonePs  Recovery  at 

Bath 319 

An  Epistle  to  the  right  honourable  Sir  Robert 

Walpole  320 

The  Volontcer  Laareat: 
Na  L  A  Poem  on  her  Majesty  *s  Birth-day, 

1731-2   321 

II.  On  her  Majesty's  Birth-day,  1732-3.  322 

III.  On  her  Majesty's  Birt»i-day,  1734-5.     ib. 

IV.  On  her  Majesty's  Birth-day,  1735-6.  323 
V.  On  her  Majesty's  Birth-day,  1736-7.  324 

VL  A  Poem  sacred  to  the  Memory  of  her 
late  Majesty,  humbly  addressed  to 
his  Majesty  ^^«. ib. 

Of  ^blic  Spirit  in  regard  to  public  Works : 
an  Epistle  to  his  royal  Highness  Frederic 
Prince  of  Wales  325 

To  Mr.  John  Dyer,  a  Painter,  advising  him 
to  draw  a  certain  noble  and  illustrious  Per- 
son   327 

Verses  sent  to  Aaron  Hill,  Esq.  with  the  Tra- 
gedy of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  expecting 
him  to  correct  it 328 

Prologue  spoken  at  the  Revival  of  Shakspeare's 
Kmg  Henry  the  Sixth , ib* 

The  Animalcule :  a  Tale.  Occasioned  by  his 
Grace  the  Duke  of  Rutland's  receiving  the 
Small 'Pox  by  Inoculation '.    ib. 

To  Mrs.  Eliz.  Haywood,  on  her  Novel,  called 
The  Rash  RMolve 329 


Page 

An  Apology  to  Brillante,  for  harli^  long  omit-  . 
ted  writing  in  Verse.  In  Imitation  of  a  C€r->^ 
tain  Mimic  of  Anacreon .r329 

An  Epistle  to  Mrs.  Otd6eld  of  the  Theatre- 
Royal   330 

Verses  occasioned  by  reading-Mr.  Aaron  Hill's 
Poem,  called  Gideon • ib. 

To  the  right  honourable  Bessy,  Countess  of 
Rochford,  Daughter  of  the  late  Earl  Rivers, 
when  with  Child 331 

To  the  excellent  Miranda,  Consort  of  Aaron 
Hill,  Esq.  on  reading  her  Poems  ib. 

Verses  to  a  young  Lady ^.  ib. 

The  Gentleman.  Addressed  to  Jobu  Jolliffe, 
Esq „ ib. 

Character  of  the  Rev.  James  Foster 332 

The  Poet*s  Dependance  on  a  Statesman  ib. 

An  Epistle  to  Damon  and  Delia 333 

To  Miss  M—  H— ,  sent  with  Mr.  Pope's  Works,   ib. 

On  the  Recovery  of  a  Lady  of  Quality  from 
the  Small-Pbx ib. 

The  Friend.     An  Epistle  to  Aaron  Hill,  E'q...  334 

Au  Epistle  to  Mr.  John  Dyer,  Author  of  Gron- 
ger  HiU 335 

Verses  occasioned  by  the  Vice  Principal  of  St. 
Mary  Hall,  Oxford,  being  presented  by  the 
honourable  Mrs.  Knight  to  the  living'  of 
Godsfield  in  Essex ib. 

Fulvia:  a  Poem ib. 

Epitaph  on  a  young  Lady  336 

The  Genius  of  Liberty,  a  Poem ib. 

EGrseco  Ruf 337 

The  foregoing  Lines  paraphrased  ib. 

The  Emptoyment  of  Beauty.  Addressed  to 
Mrs.  Bridget  Johnes,  a  young  widow  Lady 
of  Llanelly  in  Caermarthenshire iIk 

Sent  to  Mrs.  Bridget  Jones,  with  the  Wanderer  338 

On  false  Historians.    A  Satire  ib. 

A  Character 339 

Epitaph  on  Mn  Jones,  Grandmother  to  Mrs. 
Bridget  Jones  of  Llanelly  in  Caermarthen- 
shire  .^ ib. 

Valentine's  Day,  a  Fbem,  addressed  to  a  yobng 
widow  Lady     ib. 

To  John  Powell,  Esq.  Barrister  at  Law 341 

London  and  Bristol  delineated ib. 


POEMS  OF  SWIFT. 


TliaAiittior'iLlle,byDr.JiQhnf(»   .... 345 

Ode  to  the  bonoorable  Sir  William  Temple...  367 
Ode  to  IQng  William,  on  his  SocceMea  in  Ire- 
land   .'..«... 369 

Ode  to  the  Athenian  Society ib. 

Written  in  n  Lady's  ivory  Table-Book»:  1699 .  372 

Vn.  Harria's  Petition,  1699 ib. 

A  Ballad  on  the  Game  of  Traffic 373 

ABallad»t»tbeTaaeoftbeCatPttfie  .*«...    ib. 


Tbe-DiiGovery  .^.. .^..  ..  374 

The  Problem  that  my  Lord  Berkley  stinks  when 

he  is  in  Love ib. 

DeacrifAion  of  a  Salamander,  1706 375 

To  the  Earl  of  Pet^borow,  wh6  commanded 

the  British  Forces  in  Spafai ib. 

On  the  Union  376 

On  Mrs.  Biddy  Floyd:   or,  the  Receipt  to 

form  a  BeaQty«...«.»......«»..«v...... ....«.«••••    ib» 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CONTENTS. 


Pise 

Apollo  outwitted.    To  the  honoarable  Mn. 
Fioch,  afterwards  Countess  of  Wiocbelaea, 
'  under  her  Name  of  Ardelia 376 

Vanbrugh's  House,  built  from  the  Ruins  of 
Whitehall,  1706 377 

Riddle  on  a  Fan  378 

Answer ; ib. 

Riddle  on  a  Beau - ib. 

Answer ib. 

Vanbrugh's  House  ib. 

Baucis  and  Pbifemon.  On  the  ever-lamented 
Loss  of  the  two  Yew-trees  in  the  Parish  of 
Chilthorue,  Somerset,  1708    ib. 

Elegy  oil  the  supposed  Death  of  Partridge,  the 
Almanack  Makef,  1708 380 

The  Epitaph    381 

Merlin's  Prophecy,  1709   ib. 

A  Description  of  the  Morning,  1709 ib. 

A  Description  of  a  city  Shower,  in  Imitation 
of  VirgiPs  Georgics,  1710 ib. 

On  the  Littte-Honse  by  the  Church-yard  of 
Castleoock,  1710 382 

The  Virtues  of  Sid  Hamet  the  Magician's  Rod, 
1710 ib. 

Atlas  i  or,  the  Minister  of  SUte.  To  the  Lord 
Treasurer  Oxford,  1710 383 

A  town  Eclogue,  1710'.  Scene,  the  Royal 
Exchange « ib. 

Epitaph.  Inscribed  on  a  marble  Tablet,  in 
Berkley  Church -384 

The  Fableof  Midas,  1711  ib. 

An  Excellent  new  Song.  Being  the  intended 
Speech  of  a  famous  Orator  against  Peace  •  385 

The  Windsor  Prophecy,  1711    ib. 

Epigram  extempore. —  On  Britain  Europe's 
safety  lies    386 

Epigram,1712.->-As  Thomas  was  cudgel'd  one 
diay  by  his  wife  ib. 

Corinna,  171S lb. 

Toland*s  Invitation  to  Dismal,  to  dine  with  the 
Calves-Head  Club.  Imitated  from  Horace, 
Lib.  i.  Epist.  v ^ ib. 

Peace  and  Dunkirk :  being  an  excellent  new 
Song  upon  the  Surrender  of  Dunkirk  to 
General  Hill,  1712 387 

Horace,  Book  i.  Ep.  vii.  Addressed  to  the 
Earl  of  Oxford,  1713 ib. 

The  Author  upon  Itimself,  1713  389 

The  Faggot.  Written  when  the  Ministry  were 
at  variance,  1713 390 

Catullus  de  Lesbia ib. 

Epigram  from  the  French ib. 

On  a  Curate*s  Complaint  of  hard  Duty    ib. 

A  true  and  fisithful  Inventory  of  the  Goods 
belonging  to  Dr.  Swift,  Vicar  of  Loncor, 
upon  lending  his  House  to  the  Bishop  of 
Meath,  till  his  Palace  was  rebuilt 391 

Cademus  and  Vanessa,  1713 ib. 

To  Love   397 

Ode  to  Spring,  by  a  Lady 398 

Odeto  Wisdom,  by  the  same   «..^ ib. 

A  Rebos.    By  V«M»a ib. 

The  Dean*£  Answer.........^..  ., ...».•     ib. 

Horace,  B.  ii«  Ode  i..pawyhi<Bod.  Addrosaod 
to  Ricbaid  Steele,  Esq.  1714 ib. 

Horace,  Book  i*  Ep.  ▼.  Mm  Denoii  tiM  Skel- 
tering Poet*s  Inviution  to  Richasd  Steak, 
the  sedndad  Pftrty-Writor,  and  Membefi 
to  come  and  live  with  him  in  the  Mint,  17 14.  399 


Pagtf 

To  Lord  Harley,  on  his  Marriage,  1713 401 1 

In  Sickness.     Written  in  Ireland,  October,  ' 

ni4 « :    ib. 

The  Fable  of  the  Bitches.  Written  in  the  Year 
1715,  on  an  Attempt  to  repeal  the  Test  Act  402 

Horace,  Book  iii.  Ode  ii.  To  the  Earl  of 
Oxford  late  Lord  Treasurer.  Sent  to  him 
when  m  the  Tower,  1617  ib. 

Phillis ;  or,  the  Progress  of  Lore,  1*716    lb. 

Ad  Amicum  eruditum  Thoroam  Sheridan, 
1717 » 403 

Horace,  Book  iv.  Ode  ix.  Addressed  to  Abp. 
King,  1718  404 

To  Mr.  Delany,  Nov.  10,  1718 ib. 

A  left-handed  LeUer  to  Dr.  Sheridan,  1718  ...  405 

A  Motto  for  Mr.  Jason  Hasard,  Woollen  Draper 
in  Dublin ;  whose  sign  was  the  Golden  Fleece     ib. 

To  Dr.  Sheridan,  1718 ib. 

Stella's  Birth-day,  March  13,  1718-19 406 

Dr.  Sheridan  to  Dr.  Swift,  1719 ib. 

The  Dean*s  Answer ib. 

Stella's  Birth-day,  1720 ib. 

To  Stella,  who  collected  and  transcribed  his 
Poems,  1720    407 

To  Stella,  visiting  me  in  my  Sickness,  1720  ...  408 

An  Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Demar,  the  Usurcrj 
who  died  the  6tfa  of  July,  1720 409 

Epitaph  on  a  Miser...., ib. 

To  Mrs.  Houghton  of  Bormount.  Upon  prais- 
ing her  Husband  to  Dr.  Swift ib. 

Verses  written  on  a  Wrodow,  at  the  Deanery 
House,  St.Patrick^s ib. 

On  another  Window ib. 

Apollo  to  the  Dean,  1720  ib. 

News  fhmi  Parnassus,  b^Dr.  Delany  410 

The  Run  upon  the  Bankers,  1720 ^11 

The  Description  of  an  Irish  Feast,  transUted 
almost  literally  out  of  the  original  Irish  ...    ib. 

An  excellent  new  Song  on  a  seditious  Pam- 
phlet, 1720 412 

The  Progress  of  Beauty,  1720 ib. 

The  Progress  of  Poetry 413 

The  South-Sea  Project,  1721 414 

The  Dog  and  Shadow 415 

To  a  Friend,  who  had  been  much  abused  in 
many  different  Libels ib. 

Billet  to  the  Company  of  Players 416 

The  Prologue  ib. 

Epigram ib. 

Prologue  to  a  Play  for  the  Benefit  of  the  dis- 
treneid  Weavers.    By  Dr.  Sheridan ib. 

Epilogue  by  the  Dean    '417 

A  Poem  by  Dr.  Delany,  on  the  preceding  Pro- 
logue and  Epilogue ib. 

On  Oaulstown  House.    By  Dr.  Delany  ib. 

The  Country  Life.    Part  of  a  Summer  spent 

at  Gaulstown  House  418 

.Thomas  Sheridan,  Clerk  to  George  Nim-Dan- 
Dean,  Esq.  July  15th,  1721,  at  Night  419 

George  Nim-Dan-Dean's  Answer  ib. 

Geocge  NimJ>aa  Psatfs  Invitation  to  Tbenas 
Sheridan  ^ ib. 

To  OeM^  NinHDan-OoM,  Esq.  upon  his  Jn- 
comparable  Vetses.  By  Dr.  Ddany,  in  Sbe- 
ridanVName 420 

To  Mr.  TbauMS  Sbaridaii.  Upon  his  Verses 
writt^inarcles.  By  Dr.  Swift ib. 

On  Dr.  Sheridan's  orcnlar  Verses.  By  Mr* 
George  Sochfoii ;-....  4St 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CONTINTS. 


Pafe 
On  Dta  JadocHi's  PidorCy  cut  ia  Silk  a«d 

Fftper.  ByDelany .% 421 

On  tW  flame  Fieture.    By  ShcridMi ib. 

On  the  flune  Picture.    BySoehfort  ib. 

On  the  same  Picture    By  Swift ib. 

Dan  JackflOB*8  Defence  428 

Mr.  Bocbforfs  Reply ib. 

Dr.  XMnny's  Reply t ^^ 

McticUq's  Reply , ib. 

A  Rejoinder,  by  tiM  Dean,  in  Jackson's  Name  ib. 
AaDther  Rejoinder  by  tbe  Dean,  in  Jackson's 

Name  424 

8heridan*8  Submission.     By  the  Dean  ib. 

To  the  Rev.  Daniel  Jackson ;  to  be  humbly 

presented  by  Mr.  Sheridan  in  Person,  with 

Reipeot,  Care,  and  Speed ib. 

To  Dr.  Sheridan,  on  bis  Art  of  Punning   425 

Stella  to  Dr.  Swift,  on  his  Birth-day,  Nor.  30, 

1721 ib. 

To  Stella,  on  her  Birth-day,  1721-2 ib. 

On  the  great  buried  Bottle.    By  Dr.  Delany  .  426 

Epitaph.     By  the  same ib. 

Stella's  Birth-day.    A  great  Bottle  of  Wine. 

king  buried,  being  that  Day  dug  up,  1722-3  ib. 
Asatirical  £l^y  on  the  Death  of  a  late  famous 

General    ..« ib. 

Dean  Smedley*;  Petition  lotheDokeof Grafton  427 

The  Dnke*8  Answer.    By  Dr.  Swift   428 

Verses  by  Stella ib. 

Jealousy.     By  the  same ib. 

Dr.  Delany's  Villa ib. 

-On  one  of  the  Windows  at  DelviUe  .., 429 

Carberiae  Rupes,  in  Oomitatu  Corgagenfti,1723.  ib. 
Carbery  Rocks.  Translated  by  Dr.  Dunkin  ...  ib. 
Upon  the  horrid  Pbt  dispovered  by  Harlequin, 

the  Bishop  of  Rochester's  French  Dog.  In  a 

Dialogue  between  a  Whig  and  a  Troy,  1 723*  ib. 
Stella  at  Wood  Park,  a  House  of  Charles  Foid, 

Esq.  near  Dublin 430 

Ogpy  of  the  Birth-day  Verses,  on  Mr.  Ford...  '431 

Joan  cndgek  Ned 432 

A  quibbling  Elegy,  on  Judge  Boat  ib. 

Pethox  theGreat ib. 

Mary  the  Cookmaid's  Letter  to  Dr.  Sheridan, 

1723 433 

A  new-year*s  Gift  for  Bee.    1723-4  434 

Dingly  and  Brent    A  Song  ib. 

To  Stella.  1 723-4.    Written  on  the  Day  of  her 

Birth,  but  not  on  the  Subject,  when  I  was 

sick  in  Bed  ^.    ib. 

On  Dreams.     An  Imitation  of  Petronius  ib. 

Whitshed's  Motto  on  his  Coach 435 

Sent  by  Dr.  Delany  to  Dr.  Swift,  in  order  to  be 

admitted  to  speak  to  him  when  he  was  deaf    ib. 

The  Answer  ..^. •..,.    ib. 

A  quiet  Life  and  a  good  Name.    To  a  Friend 

who  married  a  Shrew  ...^ ^ 436 

Hie  Birth  of  manly  Virtue.  Inscribed  to  Loid 

Carteret ib. 

Verses  on  the  upright  Judge  who  concV^mned 

the  Drapier*s  Printer 437 

On  the  same ib. 

On  the  same.  (The  Judge  speaks) ib. 


«ttM4s,  n  na.  swirr  aw 


flu  FauMos,  wErmN  m  ea* 
TIM  1794. 


L  On  a  Pen 
aOnGold  . 


ib. 

438 


Pace 

III.  By  hie  exalted  high  in  place  438 

IV.  Ou  the  Posteriors ib. 

V.  On  a  Horn ,..-     ib. 

VI.  On  a  Corkscrew.. 439 

VII.  The  Gulf  of  all  human  PossessioBs  ...    ib. 

VIIL  Louisa  to  Strephon 440 

IX.  Deprived  of  root  and  branch  and  rind    ib. 

X.  On  the  Moon ib. 

XI.  OnaCircle ^ 441 

XII.  On  Ink  ib. 

Xm.  On  the  five  Senses ib. 

Xrv.  Fontinella  to  Florinda ib. 

XV.  On  an  Echo   ibw 

XVI.  On  a  Shadow  in  a  Glass  .'  442 

XVII.  Most  things  by  me  do  rise  and  fall  ...    ib. 

XVIII.  On  Time ib. 

XIX.  On  theGaltews  ib. 

XX.  On  the  Vowels  ib. 

XXI.  On  Snow ib. 

XXII.  On  a  Cannon ib. 

XXIII.  On  a  Pair  of  Dice 443 

XXIV.  Ou  a  Candle.    To  Lady  Carteret ib. 

XXV.  To  Lady  Carteret    By  Dr.  Delany...    ib. 

Answered  by  Dr.  Swift  ib* 

A  Receipt  to  restore  Stella's  Youth,  1724-5 ...    ib. 

SteUa's  Birth-day,  1724-5 4U 

An  Epigram  ou  Wood's  brass  Money i^ 

A  Simile  on  our  Want  of  Silver ;  and  our  only 

Way  to  remedy  it,  1725 ib* 

Wood  an  Insect,  1725 445 

On  Wood  the  Ironmonger,  1725  ib. 

Will  Wood"^  Petition  to.the  People  of  Iceland    ib. 

A  new  Song  on  Wood's  Halfpence 446 

A  serious  Poem  upon  William  Wood^  Brasier, 

Tinker,  Uardwaremao,  Coiner,  Founder,  and 

Squire ^ 447 

ToDr.  Sheridan.  Dec.  14.  1719,  at  9  at  Night  ib. 
To  Quilca,  a  country  House  of  Dr.  Sheridan, 

in  no  very  good  Repair,  1725 448 

The  Blessmgs  of  a  counUy  ^^^   ib* 

The  Plagues  of  a  country  Dfe  ib. 

Dr.  Sheridan  to  Dr.  Swift  ^ ib. 

Dr.  Swift^s  Answer ib. 

A  Portrait  ftoA  the  Life ib. 

Upon  stealmg  a  Crown  when  the  Dean  was 

asleep.    By  Dr.  Sheridan  .,  449 

The  Draa's  Answer, ••.. ib. 

The  Storm.    Minerva's  Petition ib. 

Ode  on  Science    450 

Stella's  Birth-day    ib. 

Horace,  Book  i.  Ode  xiv.    Paraphrased,  and 

inscribed  to  Ireland 451 

Verses  on  the  sudden  drying  up  of  St.  Patricks 

Well,  near  Trinity  Goll4«»  Dnblm,  1726  ...  ib. 
On  Reading  Dr.  Young's  Satires  called  the 

Universal  Passion,  by  which  he  means  Pride, 

1726 453 

The  Dog  and  the  Thief,  1726. ib. 

Advice  to  the  Gn^Street  vaise  Writer^  1726  ib. 
To  a  Lady,  who  desired  tiM  Author  to  write 

some  Venes  upon  her  in  the  heroic  Style «..  454 
A  young  lady's  Complaint  for  the  Stoy  of  the 

Dean  in  England... 456 

A  Letter  to  the  Dean  when  in  England,  17^.    ib. 

Palinedia.    Horace,  Book  i.  Ode  avi  45T 

Bte's  Birth-day,  November  8, 1726 ib. 

On  the  Collar  of  Tiger,  Mrs.  Dingley's  Lap- 

Dog 458 


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xU 


CONTENTS. 


Pagt 


kPIGRAlIt  OW  WIKMWS.      HOST  OP  TRBM  WBimN  IN 
1126. 

I.  On  ft  Window  at  an  Inn  ....« 458 

II.  At  an  Inn  in  England  ib. 

IIL  Another ib. 

IV.  AtChester ib. 

V.  Another,  in  Chester ib. 

VI.  Another,  at  Holyhead .' Ib. 

VII.  Another,  written  npon  a  Window  where 

there  was  no  Writing  befort  ib. 

VUU  On  seeing  Verses  written  npon  Windows 

at  Inns ib. 

IX.  Another ib. 

X.  Another * ib. 

To  Janus,  on  New-year's  Day    ib. 

A  pastoral  Dialogue,  written  after  the  News  of 

tlie  King's  Death,  between  Richmond  Lodge 

and  Marble  Hill 459 

Desire  and  Possession,  1727  460 

On  Censure,  1727    ib. 

The  Furniture  of  a  woman's  Mind,1727 461 

Clever  Tom  Flinch  going  to  be  hanged,  1727  .  ib. 
Dr.  Swift  to  Mr.  Pope,  while  he  was  writing 

theDnnciad ib. 

A  love  Poem  from  a  Physician  to  his  Mis-    ' 

tress 462 

Dean  Swift  at  Sir  Arthur  Acheson's  in  the 

North  of  Ireland ib 

On  a  very  oM  Glass  at  Market  Hill ib. 

On  cutting  down  the  old  Thorn  at  Market 

Hill ib. 

Cantata.— >Ih  harmony  would  you  excel   463 

Epitaph  at  Berkley,  Gloucestershire 464 

My  Lady's  Lamentation  and  Complaint  against 

the  Dean % ,, ib. 

A  pastoral  Dialogue,  1728 .' 465 

On  the  five  Ladies  at  Sot's  Hole,  with  the 

Doctor  at  their  Head ib. 

The  five  Ladies'  Answer  to  the  Beau  with  the 

Wig  and  Wings  at  bis  Head  466 

The  Beau*s  Reply  to  the  five  Ladies'  Answer .  ib. 
The  Journal  of  a  modem  Lady.     In  a  Letter 

to  a  Penon  of  Quality,  1728 ib. 

A   Dialogue    between    mad    Mollinix    and 

Timothy  468 

Tim  and  the  Fables 470 

Tom  Mullinix  and  Dick 471 

Dick.    A  Maggot   ib. 

Clad  all  in  brown.  To  Dick.    Imitated  from 

Cowley  ib. 

Dick's  Variety 472 

An  Epitaph  on  General  Gorges  and  Lady 

Meath  ib. 

Verses  on  I  know  not  what ib. 

Dr.  Swift's  Complaint  of  his  own  Deafhess. 

With  an  Auswer ib. 

Dr.  Swift  to  himself  on  St  Cecilia's  Day ib. 

On  Paddy's  Character  of  the  Intelligencer  ...  473 
Parody  on  a  Character  of  Dean  Smedley. 

Written  in  Latin  by  hioMelf ib. 

Paolus.    By  Mr.  Lindsay ib. 

The  Answer.    By  Dr.  Swift 474 

A  Dialogue  between  an  eminent  Lawyer  and 

Dr.  Jonathan  Swift,  D.  S.  P.  D.    In  allusion 

to  Horace,  Book  ii.  Sat.  i    475 

On  burning  a  dull  Poem,  1629 ib. 


Fits 

An  Epiftk  to  bit  Excellency  John  Lord  Carteret 
ByDr.  Delany,  1729 475 

An  Epistle  upon  an  Epistle  from  a  .certain 
Doctor  to  a  certain  great  Lord.    Being  a       * 
Christmas-Box  for  Dr.  Delany  476 

A  Libd  on  the  reverend  Dr.  Delany  and  bit 
Excellency  John  Lord  Caiteret,  1729  4TV 

To  Dr.  Delany,  on  the  Libels  written  against 
him  .' 479 

Directions  for  mrting  a  Birth-day  Song  430 

Bouts  Rim^,  on  Signora  Domitilla   482 

Helter  Skelter ;  or,  the  Hoe  and  Cry  after  the 
A ttomies,  upon  th^ir  Riding  the  Circuit 483 

The  Logician's  refuted ib. 

The  Puppet-show    ib. 

The  grand  Question  debated ;  whether  Hamil- 
ton's Bawn  should  be  turned  into  a  Barrack 
or  a  Malt-house,  1729    484 

To  Dean  Swift.    By  Sir  Arthur  Acheeon  486 

DraptePs  Hill  ib. 

The  Dean's  Reasons  for  not  building  atOra^ 
pier's  Hill...|. ib. 

A  Panegyric  on  the  Dean,  in  the  Person  of  a 
Lady  in  the  North   487 

Twelve  Articles    490 

The  Revolution  at  Market  Hill,  1730   ib. 

Traulus.  A  Dialogue  between  Tom  and  Robin, 
1730 - 491 

Traulus.    The  Second  Part   492 

Robin  and  Harry ib. 

ToBetty  the  Grizette,  1730 493 

Death  and  Daphne.  To  an  ai^eable  young 
Lady,  but  extremely  lean,  1730 lb. 

Daphne 494 

The  Pheasant  and  the  Lark.  A  Fable,  by  Dr. 
Delany lb. 

Ans\H:r  to  Dr.  Delany's  Fable  of  the  Pheasant 
andtheLark 496 

On  the  Irish  Club ib. 

The  Progress  of  Marrioge  497 

An  excellent  new  Ballad;  or,  the  true  English 
Dean  to  be  hanged  for  a  Rape 498 

Ou  Stephen  Duck.  TbeThresher  and  Favourite 
Poet.    A  Quibbling  Epigram 499 

The  Lady's  Dressing-room,  1730  ib. 

The  Power  of  Time 500 

On  Mr.  Pulteney's  being  put  out  of  the  Coun- 
cil, 1731    , ib. 

Epitaph  on  Frederic  Duke  of  Schomberg ib. 

Cassinus  and  Peter.  A  tragical  Elegy,  1731...  501 

A  beautiful  young  Nymph  going  to  Bed.  Writ- 
ten for  the  Honour  of  the  Fair-Sex 502 

Strephon  and  Chloe,  1731  ib. 

Apollo;  or,  a  Problem  solved   504 

The  Place  of  the  Damned,  1731 505 

Judas,  1731  lb. 

An  Epistle  to  Mr.  Gay,  1731 ib. 

On  the  Irish  Bishops,  1713 506 

On  the  Death  of  Dr.  Swift 507 

An  Epistle  to  two  Friends.  To  Dr.  Helsham 
and  Dr.  Sheridan 511 

Dr.  Helsham'b  Answer ib. 

Epigram  oo  the  Busts  in  Richmond  HermiUge, 
1732 .;..  512 

Another »». 

A  Conclusion  drawn  from  the  above  E^iigramt, 
and  sent  to  the  Drapier  ib. 

Dr.  Swift't  Answer ib. 

To  the  reverend  Dr.  Swift,  with  a  Present  of  t 


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CONTENTS. 


Page 
paper  Book  findy  bound,  on  bit  Birth-day, 
Norember  30,    1732.      By  John  Earl  of 
Orrery 512 

Veno  left  with  a  silver  Standish  on  the  Dean 
of  St.  Patrick's  Desk  on  bis  Birth-day.  By 
Dr.  Delany  513 

Verses  occasioned  by  the  fbrej^oin^  Presents  .    ib. 

The  Beast^ft  Confession  to  the  Priest  On  ob- 
serring  how  most  Men  mistake  their  own 
Intents,  1732  ib. 

Adrice  to  a  Parson 515 

The  Parson's  Case ib. 

The  Hardship  upon  the  Ladies  ib. 

A  k>Te  Song,  in  the  modem  Taste,  1733  ib. 

On  the  Words,  Brother  Protestants  and  Fellow 
Christians,  so  fiunfliarly  used  by  the  Advo- 
cates for  the  Repeal  of  the  Test  Act  in  Ire- 
land, 1733    ib. 

Tbe  Yahoo's  Overthrow;  or,  the  Kevan  Baly's 
new  Ballad,  upon  Sergeant  Kite's  insulting 
the  Dean  516 

On  the  Archbishop  of  Cashel  and  Bettesworth.  517 

On  Poetry:  a  Rhap*>dy,  1733 ib. 

Hoimoe,  Book  i.  Ode  xix.  imitated.  To  Hnm- 
pbrej  French,  Esq 521 

A  new  Simile  for  the  Ladies.  By  Dr.  Sheridan, 
1733 ib. 

Answer.     By  Dr.  Swift  522 

A  Vindication  of  the  Libel :  or,  a  new  Ballad, 
written  by  a  Shoe-Boy,  or  an  Attorney  wlio 
was  formerly  a  Shoe-Boy  523 

A  ftiendly  Apology  for  a  certain  Justice  of 
Peace,  by  way  of  Defence  of  Hartley  Hutch- 
ii-oo,'Esq 524 

Dr.  Sheridan's  Ballad  on  Balljrspelhn   ib. 

Answer.     By  Dr.  Swift  525 

Horace,  Part  of  Book  i.  Sat.  vi.  imitated ib. 


XIU 

On  a  Priutcr*s  being  sent  to  Newgate  526 

The  Day  of  Judgment    ib. 

Verses  sent  to  the  Dean  on  his  Birth-day,  with 

Pine*s  Horace,  finely  hound.  ByDr.J.Sican    ib. 

On  Psyche    ib. 

The  Dean  and  Duke,  1734 527 

On  Dr.  Rundie,  Bishop  of  Derry  ib. 

Epigram. — Friend  Bundle  fell,  with  grievous 

bump    ib. 

A  Character,  Panegyric,  and  Description  of  the 

Legion-C!ub ib. 

An  Apology,  &c 529 

The  Dean's  Manner  of  living 531 

VBSSIS  MADl  FOR  FtLVVT  WOMIK,  &C. 

Apples ib. 

Asparagus ib. 

Onions ib. 

Oysters ib. 

Herrings    ib. 

Oranges    ib. 

On  Rover,  a  lady's  Spaniel.  Instructions  to 
a  Painter ib. 

Ay  and  No:  a  Tale  from  Dublin,  1737  532 

Dr.  Swift's  Answer  to  a  ftfepd's  Question ib. 

Apollo's  Edict .'. ib. 

Epigram. — Behold  a  proof  of  Irish  sense 533 

Epigrams,  occasioned  by  Dr.  Swift's  intended 
,  Hospital  for  Idiots  and  Lunatics    iK 

On  the  Dean  of  St  Patrick's  Birth-day,  Nov. 
30,  St.  Andrew's  Day ib. 

Epistle  to  Robert  Nugent,  Esq.  with  a  Picture 
of  Dean  Swift     By  Dr.  Dunkin 534 

Inscription  intended  for  a  Monument,  1765  ...  535 

Epigram  occasioned  by  the  above  Inscription,    ib. 


c.  Wbttttoffasai,  Prioter,  Goswdl  Street,  London, 


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THE 


POEMS 


GEORGE   GRANVILLE, 
LORD  LANSDOWNE. 


VOL.  XI.  B 


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THE 

LIFE  OF  GRANVILLE, 

BF  DR.  JOHNSON. 


yjw  GBOROfi  OftANviLLfi,  OF,  as  odiers  write,  Greenville,  or  Grenville,  afterwards 
lord  Lansdowne  of  Bideford  in  the  county  of  Devon,  less  is  known  than  his  name  and 
li%h  rank  might  give  reason  to  expect.  He  was  bom  about  l667»  the  son  of  Bernard 
GreenviUe,  who  was  entrusted  by  Monk  with  the  most  private  transactions  of  the 
Restoration,  and  the  grandson  of  sir  Bevil  Greenv31e,  who  died  in  the  king^s  cause,  at 
the  battle  of  Lansdowne. 

His  eariy  education  was  superintended  l^  sir  William  EUis;  and  his  progress  was 
such,  that  before  the  age  of  twdve  he  was  sent  to  Cambridge^  where  he  pronounced 
a  copy  of  his  own  verses  to  the  princess  Mary  d'Est^  of  Modena,  then  dutchess  of 
York,  when  she  visited  the  university. 

At  ^  accession  of  king  James,  being  now  at  eighteen,  he  again  exerted  his  poetical 
powers,  and  addressed  the  new  monarch  in  three  riiort  pieces,  of  which  the  .first  hi  pro- 
fime,  and  the  two  others  such  as  a  boy  might  be  expected  to  produce ;  but  he  was 
eonuuended  by  old  Waller,  who  perhaps  was  pleased  to  find  himself  imitated  in  six 
lines,  which,  though  they  begin  with  nonsense  and  end  with  dulness,  excited  in  the 
y<mng  author  a  rapture  of  acknowledgemept, 

In  numbers  such  as  Waller's  sdf  migfat  use. 

k  was  probably  about  this  time  that  he  wrote  the  poem  to  the  earl  of  Peterborough, 
iqion  his  accmnpliskment  of  the  duke  of  Yorii's  marriage  with  the  princess  of  Modena, 
whose  charms  appear  to  have  gained  a  strong  prevalence  over  his  imagination,  and 
upon  whom  nothing  ever  has  been  charged  but  imprudent  piety,  an  intemperate  and 
mi^ided  zeal  for  the  propagation  of  popery. 

However  iaithfiil  Granville  might  have  been  to  the  king,  or  however  enamoured  of 
the  queen,  he  has  left  no  reason  for  supposing,  that  he  approved  either  the  artifices  or 
the  violence*  with  which  the  king's  religion  was  insinuated  or  obtruded.  He  endeavoured 
to  be  true  at  once  to  the  king  and  to  the  church. 

Of  this  regulated  loyalty  he  has  transmitted  to  posterity  a  sufficient  proof,  in  the 
letter  which  he  wrote  to  his  fiither  about  a  month  bdbre  the  prince  of  Orange  lauded. 

1  To  Trimty  College.  By  tbe  tmivenity  regi^cr  it  apppears,  that  he  was  admitted  to  his  master's 
dcfcee  m  1679  ;  we  must,  therefore,  set  the  year  of  his  birth  some  years  back.    H, 


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4  LIFE  OF  GRANVILLE. 

"  Mar,  near  Doncastcr,  Oct.  6,  1688. 
*'  To  the  honourable  Mr.  Barnard  Granville,  at  the  earl  of  Bathe's,  St.  James's. 

«  Sib, 

*'  Your  having  no  prospect  of  obtaining  a  commission  for  me  can  no  way  alter  or 
cool  my  desire,  at  this  important  juncture,  to  venture  my  life,  in  some  manner  or  other,  ' 
for  my  king  and  my  country. 

"  I  cannot  bear  living  under  the  reproach  of  lying  obscure  and  idle  in  a  country  re- 
tirement, when  every  man  who  has  the  least  sense  of  honour  should  be  preparing  for 
the  field. 

"  You  may  remember,  sir,  with  what  reluctance  I  submitted  to  your  commands 
upon  Monmouth's  rebellion,  when  no  importunity  could  prevail  with  you  to  permit  me 
to  leave  the  academy:  I  was  too  young  to  be  hazarded ;  but,  give  me  leave  to  sav,  it 
is  glorious  at  any  age  to  die  for  one*s  country,  and>  the  sooner,  the  noUer  tiie 
sacrifice. 

*<  I  am  now  older  by  three  years.  My  uncle  Bathe  was  not  so  old  when  he  was  lefk 
among  the  shiin  at  the  battle  of  Newbury ;  nor  you  yourself,  sir,  when  you  made  your 
escape  from  your  tutor^s,  to  job  your  brother  at  the  defence  of  SdUy. 

**  The  samofcause  has  now  come  round  about  again.  The  king  has  been  misled; 
let  those  who  have  misled  him  be  answerable  for  it  Nobody  can  deny  but  be  is 
sacred  in  his  own  person ;  and  it  is  every  honest  man's  duty  to  defend  it 

**  You  are  pleased  to  say,  it  is  yet  doubtful  if  the  Hollanders  are  rash  enough  to 
make  such  an  attempt;  but,  be  that  as  it  will,  I.beg  leave  to  insist  upon  it,  that  I  mi^ 
be  presented  to  his  migesty,  as  one  whose  utmost  ambition  it  is  to  devote  his  life  to  his 
service,  and  my  country's,  after  the  example  of  all  my  ancestors. 

**  The  gentry,  assembled  at  York  to  agree  upon  the  choice  of  representatives  for 
the  county,  have  prepared  an  address,  to  assure  his  mayesty  they  are  ready  to  sacrifice 
their  lives  and  fortunes  for  him  upon  this  and  all  other  occasions ;  but  at  the  same 
time  they  humbly  beseech  liun  to  give  them  such  magistrates  as  may  be  agreeable  to 
the  laws  of  the  land ;  for,  at  present,  there  is  no  authority  to  which  they  can  legally 
submit. 

"  They  have  been  beating  up  for  volunteers  at  York  and  the  towns  adjacent,  to 
supply  the  regiments  at  Hull ;  but  nobody  will  list. 

"  By  what  I  can  hear,  every  body  wishes  well  to  the  king;  but  they  would  be  glad 
hb  ministers  were  hanged. 

*'  The  vnnds  continue  so  contrary,  that  no  landing  can  be  so  soon  as  was  appre- 
hended ;  therefore  I  may  hope,  with  your  leave  and  assistance,  to  be  in  readiness  before 
any  action  can  begin.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  most  humbly  and  most  earnestly  to  add  Xhh 
one  act  of  indulgence  more  to  so  many  other  testimonies  which  I  have  constantly  re- 
ceived of  your  goodness ;  and  be  pleased  to  believe  me  always,  with  the  utmost  duty 
and  submission,  sir,  * 

"  your  most  dutiful  son, 

**  and  most  obedient  servant, 

«  Geo.  Granville.** 


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LIFE  OP  GftANVILLE.  .    5 

niroagh  the  whole  reign  of  king  William  he  is  supposed  to  have  lived  in  litetary 
retiremeiit,  and  indeed  had  for  some  time  few  other  pleasures  hut  those  of  study  in  his 
power.  He  was»  as  the  biographers  observe,  the  younger  son  of  a  younger  brother ;  a 
deaoHunation  by  which  our  ancestors  proverbially  expressed  the  lowest  state  of  penury 
and  dependence.  He  is  said,  however,  to  have  preserved  himself  at  this  time  from 
diigrace  and  difficulties  by  (economy,  which  he  forgot  or  neglected  in  hfe  more  ad- 
vanced, and  in  better  fortune. 

About  thb  time  he  became  enamoured  of  the  countess  of  Newburgh,  whom  he  has 
ceiehntted  with  so  much  ardour  by  the  name  of  Mira.  He  wrote  verses  to  her  before 
he  was  Ihree-and-twenty,  and  may  be  forgiven  if  he  regarded  the  face  more  than  the 
nnod.     Poets  are  somethnes  m  too  much  haste  to  praise. 

In  the  time  of  his  retirement  it  is  probable  that  he  composed  Ills  dramatick  pieces, 
the  She-Gallants  (acted  1696),  which  he  revised  and  called.  Once  a  Lover  and  always 
a  Lover ;  The  Jew  of  Venice,  altered  from  Shakespeare's  Merchant  of  Venice  (169S) ; 
Heroick  Love,  a  tragedy  (17OI);  The  British  Enchanters  (1706),  a  dramatick  poem ; 
and  Peleus  and  Thetis,  a  masque,  written  to  accompany  The  Jew  of  Venice. 

Tlie  comedies,  which  he  has  not  printed  in  his  own  edition  of  his  works,  I  never 
saw:  Once  a  Lover  and  ahrays  a  Lover  is  said  to  be  in  a  great  degree  mdec^nt  and 
gross.  Graavflle  could  not  admire  without  bigotry;  he  copied  the  wrong  as  well  as 
the  right  from  his  roasters,  and  may  be  supposed  to  have  learned  obscentty  from 
Wycbericy,  as  he  learned  mythology  from  Waller. 

.  In  his  Jew  of  Venice,  as  Rowe  remarks,  the  chaiader  of  Shylock  is  made  comic, 
and  we  are  prompted  to  laughter  instead  of  detestation. 

It  is  evident,  Uiat  Heroick  Love  was  written,  and  presented  on  the  stage,  before  the. 
death  of  Dryden.  It  is  a  mythological  tragedy,  upon  the  love  of  Agamemnon  and 
Chryseis,  and  therefore  easily  sunk  into  neglect,  though  praised  in  verse  by  Drydei^ 
and  in  proae  by  Pope. 

It  is  conduded  by  the  wise  Ulysses  with  this  speech : 

Fite  holds  the  ftringi,  and  mea  lifctt  children  move 
But  as  they  >re  led ;  rocoen  it  from  above. 

At  the  accession  of  queen  Anne,  havmg  his  fortune  unproved  by  bequests  from  his 
frther,  and  his  unde  the  earl  of  Bath,  he  was  chosen  into  parliament  for  Fowey.  He 
soon  after  engaged  in  a  jomt  transition  of  the  Invectives  against  Philip,  with  a  de- 
^gOt  sttiely  weak  and  puerile^  of  turning  the  thunder  of  Demosthenes  upon  the  head 
of  Lewis. 

He  afterwards  (in  UOG)  had  hb  esUte  agam  augmented  by  an  mheritance  from  his' 
elder  brother,  snr  Bev^  Grenville,  who,  as  he  returned  from  the  government  of 
Barbadoes,  died  at  sea.  He  continued  to  serve  m  parliament;  and,..m  the  ninth  year 
of  queen  Anne,  was  chosen  knight  of  the  shire  for  ComwalL 

At  the  memorable  change  of  the  ministry  (1710),  he  was  made  secretary  at  war,  in 
the  place  of  Mr.  Robert  Walpole. 

Next  year,  when  the  violence  of  party  made  twelve  peers  in  a  day,  Mr.  Granville 
became  lord  Lansdowne  baron  Bideford,  by  a  promotion  justly  remarked  to  be  not 


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6  UFE  OF  GRANVILLE. 

inTidious^  because  he  was  the  heir  of  a  family  in  ^ndiich  two  peerages,  that  of  the  earl 
of  Bath,  and  lord  Granville  of  Potheiidge,  had  lately  become  extinct  Being  now  high 
in  the  queen's  £ivonr,  he  (1712)  was  appointed  comptroller  of  the  household,  and  a 
privy  counsdior;  and  to  hb  other  honours  was  added  the  dedication  of  Pope'« 
Windsor  Forest      He  was  advanced  next  year  to  be  treasurer  of  the  household. 

Of  these  favours  he  soon  lost  all  but  his  title ;  for  at  the  accession  of  long  Geoi^ 
bis  place  was  given  to  the  earl  of  Cholmondeley,  and  he  was  persecuted  with  the  rest 
of  his  party.  Having  protested  against  the  bill  for  attainting  Onnond  and  Bohngbroke, 
he  was,  after  the  insurrection  In  Scotland,  seized  Sept  26,  1715>  as  a  suqiected  man, 
and  confined  in  the  Tower  till  Feb.  8,  1717,  when  he  was  at  last  released,  and  restored 
to  his  seat  in  parliament;  where  (l7l9)  he  'made  a  veiy  ardent  and  anhnaited  speech 
agamst  the  repeal  of  the, Bill  to  prevent  Occasional  Conformity,  which,  however, 
though  it  was  then  printed,  he  has  not  inserted  into  his  works. 

.  Some  time  afterwards  (about  1722X  bemg  perhaps  embarrassed  by  his  profusion,  he 
went  into  foreign  countries,  with  the  usual  pretence  of  recovering  his  health.  lo  thift 
state  of  leisure  and  retirement  he  received  the  first  volume  of  Burnet's  history,  of  whieb 
he  cannot  be  su|^>osed  to  have  q)proved  the  general  tendency,  and  where  he  thought 
himself  able  to  detect  some  particular  fidsehoods.  He  therefore  undertook  the  vindi- 
eation  of  general  Monk  from  some  calumnies  of  Dr.  Burnet,  and  some  misrepresentaticHis 
of  Mr.^&cbard.  This  was  answered  dvilly  by  Mr. Thomas  Burnet  and  OkbiiMi;  and 
more  roughly  by  Dr.  Colbatch. 

His  other  historical  performance  is  a  defence  of  his  relation,  air  Richard  Greenville^ 
whom  lord  Clarendon  has  shown  in  a  form  very  unamiable.  So  ttMtch  b  urged  in  tliia 
apology  to  justify  many  Actions  that  have  been  represented  as  culpable,  and  to  palhnte 
^  rest,  that  the  reader  is  reconciled  for  the  greater  part ;  and  it  b  made  very  probable 
tiiat  Clarendon  was  by  penonal  enmity  di^>06ed  to  think  the  worst  of  Greenville,  as 
Greenville  was  also  very  willing  to  think  the  worst  of  Clarendon.  The»  pieces  were 
published  at  hb  return  to  England. 

Being  now  desirous  to  conclude  hb  labours,  and  enjoy  hb  reputation,  he  published 
^1 732)  a  very  beautiful  and  ^lendid  edition  of  hb  woriu,  in  which  he  omitted  what  he 
disapproved,  and  enlarged  what  seemed  deficient. 

He  now  went  to  court,  and  was  kindly  received  by  queen  Caroline ;  to  whom  and  to 
the  priilcess  Anne  he  presented  hb  works,  with  verses  on  the  blank  leaves,  with  which 
he  concluded  his  poetical  labour^. 

He  died  in  Hanover-square,  Jan.  30,  1735,  having  a  few  days  before  buried  his 
wife,  the  lady  Anne  VilHers,  widow  to  Mr.  Thynne,  by  whom  he  had  four  datighters, 
but  no  son. 

Writers  commonly  derive  their  reputation  from  their  works ;  but  there  are  works 
which  owe'theur  reputation  to  the  chahicter  of  the  writer.  The  public  sometimes  has 
its  favourites,  whom  it  rewards  for  one  spedes  of  excettence  with  the  honours  due  to 
another.  From  him  whom  we  reverence  for  his  beneficence  we  do  not  willingly  with- 
hold file  praise  of  genius;  a  man  of  exalted  merit  becomes  at  once  an  accomplished 
writer,  as  a  |)eanty  finds  no  great  difficulty  in  passing  for  a  wit 

Granville  was  a  man  illustrious  by  his  hirA,  and  therefore  attracted  notice ;  since  he 
is  by  Pope  styled  "  the  polite,*  he  must  hfi  supposed  elegant  in  hb  manners,  and  gene- 


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UPE  OF  GRANVILLE.  7 

nDy  kyved;  he  was  in  tones  of  contest  and  turbulence  steady  to  his  party,  and  obtained 
that  esteem,  which  u  ahvays  conferred  upon  firmness  and  consistency.  With  those 
advantages,  having  learned  the  art  of  versifying,  he  declared  hunself  a  poet ;  and  his 
daim  to  the  laurel  was  allowed. 

But  by  a  critic  of  a  later  generation,  who  takes  up  hb  book  without  any  favourable 
prejudices,  the  praise  already  received  will  be  thought  sufficient ;  for  his  works  do  not 
show  him  to  have  had  much  comprehension  from  nature,  or  illumination  from  learning. 
He  seems  to  have  had  no  ambition  above  the  imitation  of  Waller,  of  whom  he  has 
copied  the  faults,  and  very  httle  more.  He  is  for  ever  amusing  himself  with  the 
poerilities  of  mythology ;  his  king  is  Jupiter,  who,  if  the  queen  brings  no  children,  has 
a  barren  Juno.  The  queen  p  compounded  of  Juno,  Venus,  and  Minerva.  His  poem 
OD  the  dutdiess  of  Grafton's  law-suit,  after  having  rattled  awhile  with  Juno  and  Pallas, 
Mars  and  Alcides,  Cassiope,  Niobe,  and  the  Propetides,  Hercules,  Minos,  and  Rhada* 
manthus,  at  last  concludes  its  folly  with  proianeness. 

His  verses  to  Myra,  which  are  most  frequently  mentioned,  have  little  in  them  of 
eitber  art  or  nature,  of  the  sentiments  of  a  lover,  or  the  knguage  of  a  poet:  there  may 
be  found,  now  and  then,  a  haf^r  effort;  but  they  are  conamonly  feeble  and  unaffect- 
ing,  or  forced  and  extravagant 

His  Uttle  pieces  are  seldom  either  sprightly  or  elegant,  either  keen  or  weighty. 
They  are  trifles  written  by  idleness,  and  published  by  vanity.  But  his  Prologues  and 
Epflogues  have  a  just  daim  to  praise. 

The  Progress  of  Beauty  seems  one  of  his  most  elaborate  pieces,  and  is  not 
deficient  in  q^lendour  and  gaiety ;  but  the  merit  of  original  thought  is  wanting.  Its 
highest  praise  is  the  ^irit  with  which  he  celebrates  king  James's  consort,  when  she  was 
a  queen  no  longer. 

The  Essay  on  unnatural  Fligfats  in  Poetry  is  not  inelegant  nor  injudicious,  and  has 
something  of  vigour  beyond  most  of  his  other  performances:  his  precepts  are  just,  and 
his  cautions  proper ;  they  are  indeed  not  new,  but  in  a  didactic  poem  novelty  is  to  be 
expected  only  in  the  ornaments  and  iUustrations.  His  poetical  precepts  are  accom- 
pmied  with  agreeable  and  instructive  notes. 

The  masque  of  Peleus  and  Thetis  has  here  and  there  a  pretty  line  i  but  it  is  not 
always  melodious,  and  the  conclusion  is  wretched. 

In  his  British  Enchanters  he  has  bidden  defiance  to  all  chronology,  by  confounding 
the  inconsistent  manners  of  different  ages;  but  the  dialogue  has  often  the  air  of 
Dryden's  rhyming  plays;  and  his  songs  are  lively,  though  not  very  correct.  This  is,  I 
think,  far  the  best  of  hb  works ;  for,  if  it  has  many  faults,  it  has  likewise  passages  which 
are  at  least  pretty,  though  they  do  not  rise  to  any  high  degree  oi  excellence. 


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PREFACE. 


At  iBy  Tttam,  after  near  ten  years  abeence,  I  found  aevaral  editionf  had  been  pubbshed  of  Veffei  and 
Foemi,  &€«.  under  my  name,  but  to  maimed  and  inqperfect  at  would  haTe  put  me  out  of  coontenanoe, 
kad  not  the  public  reoeh«d  them  with  such  distinguishing  candour,  even  under  all  those  disadyantages. 

As  it  is  plain,  from  their  seterd  subjects,  that  they  were  composed  for  the  most  part  in  the  eariiest 
tiBK  of  my  ^tpearance  in  the  world,  I  can  attribute  that  indulgence  to  do  other  consideration  but  a 
geueious  q^Smrance  at  youthftd  follies. 

80  fofourable  a  reception,  however,  led  me,  in  this  time  of  leisure  and  retbement,  to  examine  upon 
idiat  foundation  I  had  been  so  much  obliged  to  the  publics  and  in  that  examination  I  have  disoorered 
sndi  strange  variatiooB  from  the  original  writing,  as  can  no  way  be  accounted  for  but  from  the  neg- 
figeoce,  ignorance,  or  oonceitedness  of  different  transcribers  from  surreptitious  copies :  many  tilings 
attributed  to  myself,  of  which,  by  notbdonging  to  me,  it  would  be  unjust  to  assume  the  merit;  and  as 
many  attributed  to  others,  which,  by  belongmg  to  me,  would  be  as  much  unjust  to  leave  them  to  the 


To  rectify  tiierefore  all  past  mistakes,  and  to  prevent  all  future  impositions,  I  have  been  prevailed 
upon  to  give  way  to  this  present  publication;  disowning  whatever  has  been,  or  may  hereafter  be  pub- 
&hed  in  my  name,  hot  what  has  the  sanction  of  being  printed  by  BCr.  Jacob  Tonson  and  Mr.  Lawton 
Gilliver;  cacqitii^  twooomedies,  entitled.  Once  a  Lover  and  ahrays  a  Lover;  and.  The  Jew  of  Venice, 
altered  from  Sbakeqpear. 

As  these  poems  seem  to  b^in  where  Mr.  Waller  left  off,  though  for  unequal  and  short  of  so  inimitable 
an  original ;  they  may,  however,  be  permitted  to  remam  to  posterity  as  a  foithfnl  roister  of  the  reigning 
beauties  in  the  suoceedmg  age. 

Upon  that  merit  akme  the  author  prraomes  to  reoommend  them  to  the  patronage  of  the  foir  sex. 

LANSDOfVNE. 


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POEMS 


OP 


GEORGE  GRANHLLE,   LORD  LANSDOfFNE. 


THE  EARL  OF  PETERBOROUGH, 

OS  BIS  BArrr'ACCOMrLISHMEMT  OF  THK  MARRIACB 
BrrWBBH  BIS  EOYAL  BIGBNB8I  AND  THE  PRINCESS 
MART  D'ESTB,  or  MODRVA.  WRITTSN  SEVERAL  YEARS 
AFTER,  IN  IMITATION  OPTHS  STYLE  OF  MR. WALLER. 

HIS  Juno  barren  in  unfruitful  joys, 
Our  Britfad)  Jove  his  nuptial  hours  emplojrB : 
So  FaU  ordains,  that  all  our  hopes  may  be, 
And  all  our  proapect,  gallant  York,  m  thee. 

By  the  same  wish  aspirii^  queens  are  led, 
Each  languishing  to  mount  his  royal  bed ; 
His  joalhf  his  wisdom,  and  hp  early  fame 
Create  in  every  breast  a  rivnl^aioat 
Remotest  kii^  nt  tremhDng  on.  their  throoflSy 
As  if  no  distance  oonld  secure  their  crowns; 
Fearing  his  Yakmr,  wisely  they  oontend 
To  bribe  with  beauty  so  renown'd  a  friend. 
Beauty  the  price,  there  need  no  other  arts, 
Lof«  is  the  surest  bait  for  heross  hearts : 
Kor  can  the  fair  conceal  as  high  conoem. 
To  see  the  prince,  for  whom,'  unseen,  they  bum. 

Brare  York,  attending  to  the  general  voice. 
At  leogth  resolves  to  mtdce  the  wish'd-fbr  choice. 
To  noble  Mordaont,  generous  and  just, 
Of  his  great  heart,  he  gives  the  .sacred  trust : 
''Thy  choice,"  said  he,  "  shall  ?relJ  direct  that  heart. 
Where  thou,  my  best  belov'd,  hast  such  a  part. 
In  oooncil  oft,  and  oft  in  battle  try'd. 
Betwixt  thy  master,  and  the  world  decide." 

The  chosen  Mercury  prepares  t*obey 
This  high  command.     Gently,  ye  winds,  convey. 
And  with  auspicious  gales  his  safety  wait. 
On  whom  depend  Great  Britain's  hopos  and  fiite. 
So  Jason,  with  bis  Argonauts,  from  Greece 
To  Qiolcos  sail'd,  to  seek  the  Gqlden  Fleece. 
As  when  tlie  goddesses  came,  down  of  old 
On  Ida's  hifl,  so  many  ages  told, 
With  gifts  their  young  Dardanian  judge  they  try'd. 
And  each  bade  high  to  win  him  V>  l^cr  side  ; 


So  tempt  they  him,  and  emulonsly  vie 
To  bribe  a  voice,  thatempims  would  not  buy  $ 
With  balk  and  basquets,  his  pi««s*d  seiMe  they  bait. 
And  queens  and  kings  upon  his  pleasures  waiL 

Th*  impaftial  judge  surveys  with  vast  deli|^ 
AH  that  the  Sun  surrounds  of  hv  and  bri^t. 
Then,  strictly  just,  ^he,  with  adoring  eyes. 
To  radiant  Ea^  gives  the  ift>3ral  prize. 
Of  antique  stock  her  high^denettt  she  brings. 
Bom  to  renew  the  race  of  Britam*s  kings ; 
Who  could  deserve,  like  her,  in  whom  we  see 
United,  all  that  Paris  found  in  three. 
O  equal  pair  !  when  both  were  set  above 
All  other  merit,  but  each  other's  kive. 

Welcome,  bright  princess,  to  Great  Britain's  shore. 
As  Berecynthia  to  high  Heaven,  who  bore 
That  shining  race  of  goddesses  and  gods 
That  mi*d  the  skies,  and  rui'd  the  blest  abodes: 
From  thee,  my  Muse  ejq>ects  as  noble  themes. 
Another  Mars  and  Jove,  another  James ; 
Our  future  hqjes,  all  from  thy  womb  arise ; 
Our  present  joy  and  safety,  f^m  yuur  eyes. 
Those  charming  eyes,  which  shine  to  reconcile 
To  liarmony  and  peaoe,  our  stubborn  isle. 
On  brazen  Memnon,  Pheebus  casts  a  ray. 
And  the  tough  metal  so  salutes  the  day. 

The  British  dame,  fkm^  fbr  resistless  grace, 
Contends  not  now,  but  for  the  second  place. 
Our  love  suspended,  we  neglect  the  fiur 
For  whom  we  bom*d,  to  gaze  adoring  here. 
So  san^  the  Syrens  with  enchanthig  sound, 
Enticii^  all  to  listen  and  be  drown'd ; 
Till  Orphens  ravish'd  in  a  noMer  strain, 
They  ceas'd  to  sing,  or,  singing,  charm'd  in  vain. 

This  blest  alliance,  Peterborough,  may 
Th'  indebted  nation  bounteously  repay ; 
Thy  statues,  fur  the  genres  of  our  land. 
With  palm  adom'd,  on  every  threshold  stand. 

♦  ♦  *  *  Utinam  modb  dicere  possem 
Carmina  digna  PeA :  Cert^  est  Dea  carmine  digna. 


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12 


LANSDOWNES  POEMS. 


SPOCBN  BV  THE  AUTHOR, 

lElMG  THEN  NOT  TWELVE  VEAEt  OP  ACE, 

TO 

HER  ROTAL  HIGRHESS 

THE  DUTCHESS  OF  YORK, 

AT  TRINITY   COLLEGE   IN  CAMBRIDGE. 

When  join^  in  one,  the  good,  the  fair,  the  great, 

Defcend  to  view  the  Muses'  humble  seat. 

Though  in  mean  lines,  they  their  vast  joys  declare, 

Yet  for  sincerity  and  truth,  they  dare    ^^^  H   "r   f 

With  your  own  Tasso's  mighty  self  com  jiare. 

Then,  bright  and  merciful  as  Ueav'n,  receive 

From  them  such  praises,  as  to  Heav*n  they  give. 

Their  praises  for  that  gratle  influence, 

Which  those  auspicious  lights,  your  eyes,  dispense; 

Those  radiant  eyes,  whose  irre^ess  flame 

Strike!  Envy  dm\r,~aad  keefs  Sodition  tame :   ^ 

They  can*to  gaimg  tnnhliM^  grre  law,  -  -  * '    * 

Convert  the  factious,  and  the  rebel  awe  ; 

They  conouer  for  the  duke;  where-e*er  you  tread, 

Milhons  of  proselytes,  behind  are  led ; 

Throu£^  crowds  oi  new-made  converts  stSlI  yon  go, 

Pleas'd  send  triumphant  at  the  glorious  show. 

Happy  that  prince  who  has  in  you  obtained 

A  greater  conquest  than  his  arms  e'er  gain'd. 

With  all  War's  rage,  he  may  abroad  o'ercome. 

But  Love  's  a  genUei^  victory  at  home  ; 

Securely  here,  he  on  that  face  relies. 

Lay*  by  bos  anas','  and  conqoen  with  your  eyed. 

And  all  the  gVortous  aCtknrof  his  life 

Thinks  well  rewanled,  blest  with  such  a  wife. 


to 
THE  KING 


in  th4  first  year  o*  his  majesty's  reign. 

May  all  thy  yean,  like  this^  auspicious  be. 
And  bring  thee  crowns,  and  peace,  and  victory ! 
Scarce  hadst  thou  time  t'undieath  thy  oonqu'ring 
It  did  but  glitter,  and  the  rebels  fled :         n>lade, 
Thy  sword,  the  nfoguard  of  thy  brother's  throne, 
Is  now  as  much  the  bulwark  of  thy  own. 
Aw'd  by  thy  fame,  the  trembling  natiow  send 
Tbrooi^hout  the  worid,  tb  eourt  so  firm  a  friend. 
The  guilty  senates,  that  refus'd  thy  sway. 
Repent  their  ctnne,  and  hasten  to  obey; 
Tribute  they  raise,  and  vows  and  off'rings  bring, 
Confess  their  |phren^,  and  coniirm  their  king. 
Who  with,  their  venom  overq>read  thy  soil. 
Those  scocpionB  of  the  state,  present  their  oil. 
So  the  world's  Saviour,  like  a  mortal  dre^» 
AHhoui^  by  daily  mirRcles  cbnfast, 
Accus'd  of  evil  doctrine  by  the  Jews, 
The  giddy  crowd  their  rightful  prince  refuse ; 
But  when  they  saw  such  terrour  in  the  skies. 
The  temple  rent,  their  Idng  in  glory  rise ; 
Seiz'd  with  amaze,  they  own'd  their  lawful  Lord, 
And  struck  with  guilt,  bow'd,  tremU'd,  andador'd. 


So  Jove  suspends  his  sul]jeet  wof!d  to  doom. 
Which,  would  he  please  to  thunder,  he'd  consume. 
O !  could  the  ghosts  of  mighty  heroes  dead. 
Return  on  Eaith,  and  quit  th'  El>'sian  shade  ! 
Brutus  to  James  would  trust  the  people's  cause ; 
Thy  justice  is  a  stronger  guard  than  laws. 
Marius  and  Sylla  wotUd  resign  to  thee. 
Nor  Oesar  and  great  Pompey  rivals  be ; 
Or  rivals  only,  who  should  best  obey, 
And  Cato  give  his  voice  for  regal  sway. 


"' V  < 


TO 

THE£ING. 

Tno*  train'd  m  arms,  and  leam'd  in  martial  arts. 
Thou  choosest,  not  to  conquer  men,  but  hearts  j 
Expecting  nations  for  thy  triumphs  wait. 
But  thou  prefer'st  the  name  of  jvst  to  great. 


TO 

THE  KING. 


Heroes  of  old,  by  rapine,  and  by  spoil, 
In  search  of  fame,  did  all  the  world  embroil  ; 
Thus  to  their  gods  each  then  ally'd  his  name. 
This  mrang  from  Jove,  and^  that  finom  Titan  came : 
With  iqttjd  Valour,  and  the  same  success. 
Dread  king,  might'st  thou  the  universe  oppress ; 
But  Christian  laws  constrain  thy  martial  pride, 
Peace  is  thy  choice,  and  Piety  thy  guide ; 
By  thy  lexample  kings  are  taught  to  sway, 
Heroes  to  fight,  and  samts  may  learn  to  pray. 

From  gods  descended,  and  of  race  divme, 
Nestor  in  council,  and  Ulysses  shine ; 
But  in  a  day  of  tKattle,  all  would  yield 
To  the  fierce  master  of  the  seven-fold  shield : 
Their  very  deities  were  grsc'd  no  more. 
Mars  had  the  courage,  Jove  the  thunder  bore. 
But  all  perfections  meet  in  James  alone, 
And  Bntaih^  kiii^'is'all  the  Gods  in  one. 


TO 

THE  AUTHOR, 

OK  fita  MRfcOOINO  VERSES  TO  THE  KING. 
BY  MR.  EDMUND  WALLER. 

An  early  plant,  wfaidi  such  a  blossom  bears, 
And  shows  a  g^fllttt'so  beyond  his  years, 
A  judgment  that  cbm  make  so  fah-  a  choice, 
So  high  a  sobjedt  to  employ  his  voice, 
Still  as  it  grows,  how  sweetly  will  he  sin|: 
The  growbg  greatness  of  our  matchless  king. 


ANSfTER. 

TO  MR.  WALLER, 

When  into  libya  the  young  Grecian  came. 
To  talk  with  Hammon,  and  consult  for  feme ; 
When  from  the  sacred  tripod  where  he  stood, 
The  prie^  m^ir'd,  sainted  hhn  a  God ; 
Scarce  such  a  joy  that  haughty  victor  knew, 
Thus  own'd  by  Heaven,  as  I,  thus  prais'd  by  yovu 
Whoe'er  their  names  can  m  thy  numbers  show. 
Have  more  thaii  empire,  and  immortal  grow  j 
Ages  to  come  shall  scorn  the  pow'rs  of  old. 
When  in  thy  verse,  of  greater  gods  they  're  told  j 
Our  beauteous  queen,  and  royal  James's  name. 
For  Jove  and  Juno  shiall  be  plac'd  by  Fame ; 
Thy  Charles  fat  Neptune  shall  the  seas  command, 
And  Sacarissa  shall  for  Venus  stand : 
Greece  shall  no  kmger  boast,  nor  haughty  Rome, 
But  think  from  Britain  all  the  gods  did  come. 


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TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  WALLER -..SONG. 


IS 


TO  THE  IMMORTAL  MEMORY  OP 

MIL  EDMUND  WALLER, 

UPON  HIS  DEATH. 

As4KE  paitakmg  of  celestial  fire, 

Poets  and  heroes  to  renown  aspire,  ' 

•nil,  crown'd  with  honour,  and  hnmortal  name, 

By  wit,  or  yaloar,  led  to  equal  feme,   • 

They  mmgle  wijth  the  gods  who  breath'd  the  noble 

flame. 
Tb  hig^  exploits,  the  praises  that  belong 
Live,  but  as  noorisb'd  by  the  poet*s  song. 

A  tree  of  lifd  is  sacred  poetry. 
Sweet  is  the  fruit,  and  tempting  to  the  eye; 
Many  there  are,  who  nibble  without  leave, 
But  none,  who  are  not  bom  to  taste,  sunrire. 

Waller  shall  nercp  die,  of  life  secure, 
As  long  as  Fame,  or  aged  Time  endure, 
Waller,  the  Muses'  darting,  free  to  taste 
Of  all  thdr  stores,  the  master  of  the  feast; 
Not  like  old  Adam,  stinted  in  his  choice, 
But  loitl  of  aU  the  spacioas  Paradise. 

Tboee  foes  to  virtue,  fortune  and  maiddnd, 
fkv^Qg  his  feme,  once,  to  do  justice  johi'd  ; 
No  caixHUg  critic  interrupts  his  praise; 
No  rival  strives,  but  for  a  seeond  place  5 
No  want  coutrain'd  (the  writer's  usual  fete) 
A  poet  with  a  plentiful  estate ; 
The  fint  of  mortals  wfao^  befoie  the  tomb, 
9ferodL  that  pemicbos  monster.  Envy,  dumb  ; 
Blafice  and  Pride,  those  savages,  disarmed ; 
Not  Orpheus  with  sudi  powerful  magic  charm'd. 
Scarce  m  the  grave  cam  we  allow  him  more. 
Than  livii^  we  agreed  to  give  before. 

His  noble  Muse  employ'd  her  generous  rage 
In  crowning  virtue,  aeoming  to  engage 
The  vice  and  follies  of  an  impious  age. 
No  satyr  lurks  withm  this  hallow'd  ground, 
Butnym^  and  heroiBes,kuigsandgodsabound; 
Glory,  and  arms,  and  love,  is  all  the  sound. 
His  Eden  with  no  serpent  is  defll'd. 
But  an  is  gay,  delicious  all,  and  mild. 

Mistaken  men  his  Muse  of  flattery  blame, 
Adommg  twice  an  impious  tyrant's  name ; 
We  raise  our  own,  by  giving  feme  to  foes, 
The  vakxir  that  he  prais'd,  he  did  oppose. 

Nor  were  his  thoughts  to  poetry  confin'd. 
Hie  state  vui  business  shar'd  his  ample  mind ; 
As  all  the  feir  were  captives  to  his  wit. 
So  seitttes  to  his  wisdom  would  submit ; 
His  voice  so  soft,  his  eloquence  so  strong, 
LBec  Cato's  was  his  speech,  like  Ovid's  was  his  song. 

Oar  Briti^  kings  are  rais'd  above  the  bene. 
Immortal  made,  in  his  immortal  verse ; 
No  more  are  Mars  and  Jove  poetic  themes. 
Bat  the  ceMial  Charles's,  and  just  James : 
Jono  and  Pallas,  all  the  shinmg  race 
Of  heavenly  beauties,  to  the  queen  give  place ; 
Gear,  like  her  brow,  and  graoeftil,  was  his  song. 
Great,  Bke  her  nund,  and  like  her  virtue  strong. 

Parent  of  gods,  who  dost  to  gods  remove. 
Where  art  thou  plac'd  ?  And  which  tbv  seat  above  ? 
Waller,  the  god  of  verse,  we  wiU  proclaim. 
Not  Phttbos  now,  but  Waller  be  his  name ; 
Of  joyful  bulls,  the  sweet  seraphic  choir 
Acknowledge  thee  their  oracle  and  sire ; 
The  Spheres  do  homage,  and  the  Muses  sing 
Waller,  the  god  of  verse,  who  was  the  king. 


TO 

MYRA. 

LOVING  AT  Viarr  sight. 

No  warning  of  th'  iq»proaching  flame. 
Swiftly,  like  sudden  death,  it  came ; 
like  travellers,  by  light'ning  kiird, 
I  burnt  the  moment  I  beheld. 

In  whom  so  many  charms  are  plac'd. 
Is  with  a  mind  as  nobly  grac'd ; 
The  case  so  shining  to  behold. 
Is  fill'd  with  richest  gems,  and  gold. 

To  what  my  e3res  admir'd  before, 
I  add  a  thousand  graces  more ; 
And  Fancy  bbws  into  a  flame. 
The  spark  that  from  her  beauty  came. 

The  object  thus  improv'd  by  thought. 
By  my  own  image  I  am  caught.; 
Pygmalion  so,  with  fetal  art, 
PoUsh'd  the  form  that  stung  his  heart. 


TO 

MYRA. 

Wash'o,  and  made  wise  by  others  flame, 
I  fled  from  whence  such  mischiefe  came. 
Shunning  the  sex,  that  kills  at  sight, 
I  souc^t  my  safety  in  my  flight 

But,  ah !  in  vain  from  Fato  I  fly. 
For  first,  or  bst,  as  all  must  die ; 
So  tis  as  mndi  decreed  above. 
That  first,  or  last,  we  all  must  love. 

My  heart,  which  stood  so  long  the  shock 
Of  winds  and  waves,  like  some  firm  rock. 
By  one  bright  spark  from  Myra  thrown. 
Is  into  flame,  like  powder,  blown. 


SONG. 

TO  MYRA. 

Foolish  Love,  begone,  said  I, 

Vain  are  thy  attempts  on  me ; 
Thy  soft  alhirementi  I  defy. 
Women,  those  feir  dissemblers,  fly. 

My  heart  was  never  made  fbr  thee. 
Love  heard,  and  strught  prepar'd  a  dart ; 

Myra,  revepge  my  cause,  said  he : 
Too  sure  'twas  shot,  I  feel  the  smart. 
It  rends  my  brain,  and  tears  my  heart ; 

O  Love  !  my  conqueror,  pity  me. 


AN  IMITATION 

OF  TMB  SlOOim  CllOaOS  III 
THE  SECOND  ACT  OF  IKNECA'S  Tm'ErTCt, 

When  will  the  gods,  propitious  to  our  prayers, 
Compose  our  frictions,  and  conchide  our  wars  ? 
Ye  sons  of  Inachus,  repent  the  niilt 
Of  crowns  usurp'd,  and  blood  of  parents  spilt ; 
For  impious  greatness,  vengeance  is  in  store; 
Short  is, the  date  of  all  Ul-gotten  power. 
Give  eair,  ambitious  princes,  and  be  wise ; 
listen,,  and  learo  wherein  true  greatness  lies : 


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14 


LANSDOWNE'S  POEMS. 


Place  not  yovar  pride  in  roofc  that  shine  with  gems. 

In  purple  robes,  nor  sparkling  diadems  ^ 

Nor  in  dominion,  nor  extent  of  land : 

He*8  only  great,  who  can  himself  command, 

IMiose  guard  is  peaceful  innocence,  whose  ^uide 

Is  faithful  reason ;  who  is  void  cf  pride. 

Checking  ambition  ;  nor  is  idly  vain 

Of  the  fiilse  incense  of  a  popular  train ; 

Who,  without  strife,  or  envy,  can  behold 

His  neighbour's  plenty,  and  his  heaps  of  gold ; 

Nor  covets  other  wealth,  but  what  we  find 

In  the  possessions  of  a  virtuous  mind. 

Fearless  he  sees,  who  is  with  virtue  crowned. 
The  tempest  rage,  and  hears  the  thunder  sound  ^ 
Ever  the  same,  let  Fortune  smile  or  fmwn. 
On  the  red  scaiSbld,  or  the  blazing  throne ; 
Serenely,  as  he  liv'd,  resigns  his  breath, 
Meets  Destray  half  way,  nor  shrinks  at  Death. 

Ye  sovereign  lords,  who  sit  like  gods  in  state, 
Awing  the  world,  and  bustlmg  to  be  great; 
Lords  but  in  title,  vassals  in  effect, 
Whom  lust  oontrools,  and  wikl  desires  direct : 
The  reins  of  empire  but  such  hands  disgrace, 
Where  Passion,  a  blind  driver,  guides  the  race. 

What  is  this  Fame,  thus  crowded  round  with 
slaves? 
The  breath  of  fools,  the  bait  of  flattering  knaves : 
An  honest  heart,  a  conscience  free  from  blame. 
Not  of  great  acts,  but  good,  give  me  the  name : 
In  vain  we  {^ant,  we  build,  our  stores  mcrease. 
If  conscience  roots  up  all  our  inward  peace. 
What  need  of  anus,  or  instruments  of  war. 
Or  battering  engines  that  destroy  from  hr  ? 
The  greatest  king,  and  conqueror  is  he. 
Who  lord  of  his  own  appetites  can  be ; 
Blest  with  a  pow'r  that  nothmg  can  destroy. 
And  all  have  equal  freedom  to  enjoy. 

Wliom  worklly  luxury,  and  pomps  allure, 
Hiey  tread  on  ice,  and  find  no  footing  sure; 
Place  me,  ye  powers  !  in  some  obscure  retreat, 
O  !  keep  me  innocent,  make  others  great : 
In  quiet  shades,  content  with  rural  ^rts. 
Give  me  a  life  remote  from  guilty  courts, 
"V^'here,  free  from  hopes  or  ffears,  ita  humble  ease, 
l^nhcard  of,  I  may  live  and  die  in  peace. 

Happy  the  man,  who,  thus  retir'd  firom  sight. 
Studies  himself,  and  seeks  no  other  light : 
Btit  most  unhappy  he,  who  sits  on  high, 
Kxposed  to  every  tongue  and  every  eye ; 
^V|io<te  follies  blazed  about,  to  all  arc  known, 
Uut  are  a  secret  to  himself  alone : 
Worse  is  an  evil  fame,  much  worse  than  none. 


A  LOYAL  EXHORTATION. 
wtrmv  ra  •nil  TXAt  1688. 

Op  kings  dethroned,  and  blood  of  brethren  spilt, 
In  vain,  O  Britain  I  youM  avert  the  guilt ; 
If  crimes,  which  your  forefathers  blush'd  to  own, 
Repeated,  call  for  heavier  vengeance  down. 

Tremble,  yt  people,  who  yoor  kings  diitrf, 
Tremble,  ye  kings,  for  people  y<M  oppreM ; 
Th'  Fltemal  see^,  arm'd  with  hi*  forky  rods. 
The  ris«  and  £dl  oC  empire  's  from  the  ggds. 


PERSE8 


SBKT  TO  THE  AUTBOE   IN   HIS  RmiBMSKT. 

wirrrsM  ir  mis.  Elizabeth  bicgons. 

I. 

Why,  Granville,  is  thy  life  to  shades  oonfin*(i. 

Thou  whom  tiie  gods  designed 
In  public  to  do  credit  to  mankind  ? 
Why  sleeps  the  noble  ardour  of  thy  blood. 

Which  from  thy  ancestors,  so.  many  ages  post. 
From  RoUo  down  to  Bevil  flow'd. 

And  then  appeared  again  at  last  ? 
In  thee,  when  thy  victorious  lance 
Bore  the  disputed  prize  fipom  all  the  youth  of  France* 

U. 
In  the  first  trials  which  are  made  for  fomc. 
Those  to  whom  Fate  success  denies,- 

If,  taking  counsel  from  their  shame. 
They  modestly  retreat,  are  wife. 

But  why  should  you  who  still  succeed, 

'm^etber  with  graceful  art  you  lead 
The  fiery  barb,  or  with  as  graceful  motion  treadf 

In  shining  balls,  where  aU  agree 

To  give  the  highest  praise  to  thee. 
Such  harmony  in  every  motion  '»/ound. 
As  art  oould  ne'er  ezpress  by  any  sound. 

III. 
So  \cff*d  and  prais'd,  whom  all  admire. 

Why,  why  should  yon  from  courts  and  camps  n^ 
If  Mjnra  is  unkind,  if  it  can  be,  [tire  ^ 

That  any  ii3ni^  can  be  unkhid  to  tiMe ; 
If  pensive  made  by  love,  you  thus  retire, 
Aintke  your  Mose,  and  string  your  Ijrre ; 

Your  tendier  song,  and  your  melodious  strain. 
Can  never  be  addrest  in  vain ;  f^fi^ 

She  needs  must  love,  and  we  shall  have  you  back. 


OCCASIONED  BY  THE  POREGOINO 
VERSES. 

WUrTTEN  IK  THE  YEAE  1690. 

Cease,  temptiiig  Siren,  cease  thy  flattering  strain. 
Sweet  is  thy  charming  song,  but  sung  in  vain : 
When  the  winds  blow,  atMl  loud  the  tempests  rowr^ 
What  fool  would  trust  the  waves,  and  quit  the  shore  ^ 
Eariy,  and  vain,  into  the  world  I  came. 
Big  with  fiEilse  hopes,  and  eager  after  fiune ; 
Till  looking  round  me,  ere  the  race  b^^an. 
Madmen,  and  giddy  fbo!s»  w«re  all  that  ran; 
Reclahn'd  betimes,  I  drom  the  lists  retire. 
And  thank  the  godb,  who  my  retreat  inspire^ 
In  happier  times  our  ancestors  were  bred, 
Whea  virtue  was  the  only  path  to  tread : 
Oive  me,  ye  gods !  but  the  same  road  to  fome. 
Whatever  my  fothers  dar*d,  I  dare  the  same. 
Chang'd  is  the  scene,  some  baneful  phmet  rules 
An  impkms  world,  contrived  for  knaves  and  fbols» 
Look  now  around,  and  with  impartial  eyes 
Consider,  and  examine  all  who  rise; 
Wei(^  well  their  actions,  and  their  treacherous  enda^ 
How  Oreatneis  grows,  and  by  what  steps  ascends  ; 
What  murdon,  treasons,  perjuries,  deMit; 
How  many  cn»h'd,  to  make  one  monster  great. 
Would  you  comroaod  ?  Have  fortune  in  your  power  ^ 
Hug  when  you  stab,  and  smile  when  you  devour  > 


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SONG  •..BEAUTY  AND  LAW. 


Be  bloody,  taihe,  flatter,  fonwear,  and  lie> 
Turn  pander,  pihic,  parasite,  or  spy ; 
Such  tfanving  arts  may  your  wish'd  purpose  bring, 
A  minister  at  least,  peibaps  a  king. 

Fortune,  we  most  oqjuidy  partial  call, 
A  mistress  free,  who  bids  alike  to  all ; 
Bui  on  such  terms  as  only  suit'the  bast, 
'Haaaar  de^es  and  shuns  the  ibul  embrace. 
The  honest  man,  who  starves  and  is  undone, 
Kot  Fortune,  but  his  virtue  keeps  him  down. 
Had  Cato  bent  beneath  the  conquering  cause. 
He  migfat  have  liv*d  to  give  new  senates  laws  ; 
Bat  on  vile  terms  disdaining  to  be  great, 
He  perish*d  by  his  choice,  and  not  his  fete. 
Honours  and  life,  th'  usurper  bids,  and  all 
That  vain  mistaken  men  good-fortune  call, 
Virtoe  fitrfoids,  and  sets  befoie  his  eyes 
Ad  honest  death,  which  he  accepts,  and  diet: 

0  gkMrioiis  resolution !  Noble  pnde ! 

More  honoured,  than  the  tyrant  liv'd,  he  dyM ; 
More  lov'd,  more  prais'd,  more  envy'd  inhisdooni, 
Than  Canar  trampling  on  the  rights  of  Rome. 
The  virtuous  nothing  fear,  but  life  with  shame, 
And  death  's  a  pleasant  road  that  hsads  to  feme. 
On  bones,  and  scraps  of  dogs,  let  me  be  fed. 
My  limbs  uncovered,  and  expos'd  my  head 
To  bleakest  colds,  a  kennel  be  my  bed. 
This,  and  all  other  martjrrdom  fer  thee. 
Seems  gknious,  all,  thrice  beauteous  Honesty ! 
Judge  me,  ye  powers !  let  Fortune  tempi  or  feosm, 

1  stand  preparM,  my  honour  is  my  own. 

Ye  great  disturbers,  who  in  emUess  noise. 
In  bfeod  said  rapine  seek  unnatural  joys ; 
For  what  is  all  this  bustle,  but  to  shun 
Those  thoughts  with  which  you  dare  not  be  akme  ? 
Ai  men  in  misery,  opprest  with  care, 
Sttk  in  the  rage  of  wme  to  drown  despair. 
Let  others  fif^t,  and  eat  their  bread  in  blood. 
Regardless  if  thd  cause  be  bad  or  good  ; 
Or  cringe  in  courts,  depending  on  the  nods 
Of  strutting  pigmies  who  would  pass  for  gods. 
For  me,  mqnwrtis'd  in  the  courtiers  sclxml. 
Who  loathe  a  knave,  and  tremble  at  a  fool ; 
Who  honour  generous  Wycherley  opprest, 
Poesest  of  little,  wurthy  of  the  best, 
Rich  in  himself,  in  virtoe,  that  outriiines 
All  but  the  fame  of  his  immortal  lines. 
More  than  tlie  wealthiest  lord,  who  helps  to  drain 
The  fesnish'd  land,  and  rolls  in  impious  gain : 
What  can  1  hope  in  courts  ?  Or  how  succeed  ? 
Tigers  and  wohres  shall  in  the  ocean  breed. 
The  whale  and  dolphin  fetten  on  the  mead, 
Aiid  every  element  exchange  its  kind, 
£re  thriving  Honesty  in  courts  we  find.        ^  a 

Happy  the  man,  of  mortals  hap^est  he,    /  V 
Whose  quiet  mind  from  vain  desires  is  free ;     ' 
Whom  neither  hopes  deceive,  nor  fears  torment,    • 
But  lives  at  peace,  within  himself  content. 
In  thought,  or  act,  accountable  to  none, 
But  to  himseK,  and  to  the  gods  alone : 
O  sweetness  of  cuntent !  seraphic  joy ! 
Which  nothing  wants,  and  nothing  can  destroy. 

Where  dwells  this  Peace,  this  freedom  of  the  mhid  ? 
Where,  but  in  shades  remote  from  human  kind  | 
In  flowery  vales,  where  nymphs  and  abtipfaerds  meet, 
But  never  comes  within  the  palace  gate 
Farewel  then  citie.^,  courts,  and  camps,  farewel. 
Welcome,  ye  groves,  here  let  me  ever  dwell, 


13 

Ftoin  caTes,  fiom  business,  and  mankind  remove, 
All  but  the  Muses,  and  inspiring  Love : 
How  sweet  the  mom  !  How  gentle  is  the  night ! 
How  calm  the  evening !  And  the  day  how  bright ! 

From  hence,  as  froni  a  hill,  I  view  below 
The  crowded  world,  a  mighty  wood  in  sliow. 
Where  several  wanderers  travel  day  and  night. 
By  different  paths,  and  none  are  in  the  right. 


SONG. 


Love  is  by  Fancy  led  about 

From  hope  to  fear,  from  joy  to  doubt ; 

Whom  we  now  an  angvl  call. 
Divinely  graced  in  every  feature. 
Straight 's  a  deform'd,  a  perjured  creature  ; 

Love  and  hate  are  Fancy  all. 

Tis  but  as  Fancy  shall  present 
Objects  of  grief,  or  of  content. 

That  the  lover  's  blest,  or  dies :  . 
Visions  of  mighty  pain,  or  pleasure, 
Imagin'd  want,  imagined  treasure. 

All  in  powerful  Fancy  lies. 


BEAUTY  AND  LAW. 

A  POSnCAL  PLtADING. 

Kfaig  Charies  U.  having  made  a  grant  of  the  rever- 
sion of  an  office  m  the  court  of  King's-Bench,  to 
his  son  the  duke  of  Orafton;  the  Ion)  chief 
justice  Upng  claim  to  it,  as  a  perquisite  legally 
belongmg  to  his  office,  the  cause  came  to  be 
heard  before  the  house  of  lords,  between  the 
dutchess,  relict  of  the  saki  duke,  and  the  chief 
JQStwe. 

Thb  princes  sat :  Beauty  and  Law  contend ; 
The  queen  of  Love  will  her  own  cause  defend : 
Secure  she  looks,  as  certain  none  can  see 
Such  Beauty  plead,  and  not  her  captive  be. 
What  need  of  words  with  such  commandmg  eyes  > 
<*  Must  I  then  speak?  O  Heavens!  *'  the  charmer  crios; 
"  O  barbarous  clime  !  where  Beauty  borrows  aid 
From  Eloquence,  to  charm,  or  to  persuade  ! 
Will  discord  never  leave  with  envious  care 
To  raise  debate  ?  But  discord  governs  here. 
To  Juno,  Pallas,  wisdom,  feme,  and  power. 
Long  since  prefierrM,  what  trial  needs  there  more  ? 
Confessed  to  sight,  three  goddesses  descend 
On  Ida*8  hill,  and  for  a  prize  contend ; 
Nobly  they  bid,  and  lavishly  pursue 
A  gpft,  that  only  could  be  Beauty's  due : 
Honours  and  wealth  the  generous  judge  denies, 
And  gives  the  triumph  to  the  brightest  eyes. 
Such  precedents  are  numberiess,  we  draw 
Our  right  from  custom ;  custom  is  a  law 
As  hi§^  as  Heaven,  as  wide  as  seas  or  land ; 
As  ancient  as  the  world  is  ^our  command. 
Mars  and  Alcides  would-  this  plea  allow : 
Bmty  was'ever  absolute  till  now. 
It  is  enough  that  1  pronounce  it  mine, 
And,  right  or  wrong,  he  should  his  claim  resign  » 
Not  bears  nor  tigers  sure  so  savage  are. 
As  these  ill-manner'd  monsten  of  the  bar. 


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16 


LANSDOWNE'S  POEMS. 


"  Loud  Rmnoitr  >  hat  p«t)claimM  anymph  dnrine. 
Whose  matchless  form,  to  cowmtarbalaiioe  mine, 
By  dint  of  beauty  shall  extort  year  grace: 
I^et  her  appear,  this  rival,  face  to  filoe ; 
Let  eyes  to  eyes  oppos'd  this  strife  decide ; 
Now,  when  I  tighten,  let  her  beams  be  tryVL 
Was 't  a  vain  promise,  and  a  gownman's  lie  } 
Or  stands  she  here,  nnmaric'd,  when  I  am  by  ? 
So  Heav*n  was  moik%  and  once  all  Elys  round 
Another  Jopiter  was  said  to  aoond ; 
On  brazen  floors  the  royal  actor  tries 
To  ape  the  thunder  latUing  in  the  skies ; 
A  brandished  torch,  with  emulating  blaze, 
Affiscts  the  forky  tightnmg*s  pointed  rays : 
Thus  borne  aloft,  triumphantly  he  rode 
Through  crowds  of  worshippers,  and  acts  the  god. 
The  sire  omnipotent  prepares  the  brand, 
By  Vulcan  wrought,  and  arms  his  potent  hand ; 
Then  flaming  hurb  it  hissmg  from  above. 
And  in  the  vast  abyss  confounds  the  mhnic  Jove. 
Presumptuous  wretch  1  with  mortal  art  to  dare 
Immortal  power,  and  brave  the  thunderer ! 

"  C^asiope,  preferring  with  disdain, 
Her  dauj^ter  to  the  Nernds,  they  complain ; 
The  daughter,  for  the  mother's  guilty  scorn. 
Is  doomed  to  be  devoured  ;  the  mother  's  borne 
Above  the  doads,  where,  by  hnmortal  light. 
Reversed  she  shines,  exposed  to  human  stght. 
And  to  a  shameful  posture  is  oonfln'd. 
As  an  eternal  terrour  to  mankmd. 
Did  thus  the  gods  such  private  nynftphs  respect  ? 
What  vengeance  mi^  the  queen  of  Love  eiqpect } 

"  But  grant  such  arbitrary  j^leas  are  vain, 
Wav*d  let  them  be ;  mere  justice  shall  obtain. 
Who  to  a  husband  justlier  can  succeed. 
Than  the  soft  partner  of  bis  nuptial  bed ; 
Or  to  a  father's  right  lay  stronger  claim. 
Than  the  dear  youth  in  whom  surviyefi  his  name  ? 
Behold  that  youth,  consider  whence  he  springs^ 
And  in  his  royal  veins  respect  your  kings : 
Immortal  Jove,  upon  a  mortal  she. 
Begat  his  shre :  Second  from  Jove  is  he* 

"  Well-did  the  father  blindly  flght  your  cause. 
Following  the  cry— of  liberty  and  Laws, 
If  by  those  laws,  for  which  he  lost  his  life  ^, 
You  spoil,  ungratefully,  the  son  and  wife. 

*'  What  nc^  I  more  ?  'Tis  trea«oa  to  dispute : 
The  grant  was  rc^  ;  that  decides  the  suit 
Shall  vulgar  laws  imperial  power  constrain  ? 
Kings,  and  the  gods,  can  never  act  in  vaiu." 

She  finished  tore,  the  queen  of  every  grace, 
I)i8dain  vermilioning  her  heavenly  foce : 
Our  hearts  take  fire,  and  all  in  tumult-rise. 
And  one  wish  sparkles  in  a  thousand  eyes. 
O !  might  some  champion  finish  these  debates ! 
My  sword  shall  end,  what  now  my  pen  relates. 
Up  rose  the  judge,  on  each  side  bending  low, 
A  crafty  smUe  accompanies  his  bow ; 
Ulysses  like,  a  gentle  pause  he  makes. 
Then,  raising  by  degrees  his  voice,  he  speaks. 

1  A  report  spread  of  a  beautifal  young  lady,  niece 
to  the  lord  chief  justice,  who  would  appear  at  the 
bar  of  the  house  of  lords,  and  eclipse  the  charms 
of  the  dutchess  of  Grafton:  no  such  lady  was  seen 
there,  nor  perhaps  ever  in  any  part  of  the  world. 

s  The  duke  of  Grafton,  slain  at  the  siege  of  Cork 
in  Ireland,  about  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution. 


*'  In  you,  my  lords,  who  judge  $  and  all  whohear, 
Methinks  I  read  3Hmr  wishes  for  the  foir  } 
Nor  can  I  wonder,  even  I  contend 
'With  inward  pain,  unwilling  to  offend ; 
Unhappy!  thus  oblig'd  to  a  defence. 
That  may  displease  such  heavenly  excellence. 
Might  we  the  laws  on  any  terms  abuse. 
So  bright  an  influence  were  the  best  excuse ; 
Let  Niobe*s  3  just  fete,  the  vile  disgrace 
Of  the  Propoetides'  *  polluted  race; 
Let  death,  or  shame,  or  lunacy  surprize. 
Who  dare  to  match  the  lustre  of  those  eyes ! 
Aloud  the  feirest  of  the  sex  complain 
Of  ci^itives  lost,  and  loves  invok'd  in  vam ; 
At  her  appearance  all  their  glory  ^ids. 
And  not  a  star,  but  sets,  when  she  ascends. 

"  Where  Love  presides,  still  may  she  bear  the 
But  jigid  Law  has  neither  ears  nor  eyes :     [prizes 
Charms,  to  which  Mars  and  Hercules  would  bow, 
Minos  and  Rhadamanthus  ^  disavow. 
Justice,  by  nothing  bias'd,  or  inclin'd. 
Deaf  to  persuasion,  to  temptation  blind. 
Determines  without  fevour,  and  the  Uws 
O*eriook  the  parties,  to  decide  the  cause. 
What  then  avails  it,  that  a  beardless  boy 
Took  a  rash  fancy  for  a  female  toy  ? 
Hi'  msuHed  Argives,  with  a  numerous  host. 
Pursue  revenge,  and  seek  the  Dardan  coast; 
Hiough  the  gods  built,  and  though  the  gods  defend 
Those  lofty  towers,  tiie  hostile  (Greeks  ascend  ; 
Nor  leave  they,  tiU  the  towQ  in  ashes  lies. 
And  all  the  race  of  royal  Priam  dies : 
The  queen  of  Paphos,  ^  mixmg  in  the  fray. 
Rallies  the  troops,  and  urges  on  the  day  i 
In  perKm,  in  the  foremost  ranks  she  stands. 
Provokes  the  charge,  directs,  assists,  commands  ^ 
Stem  Diomed^  advancing  high  in  air. 
His  lofty  javelin  strikes  the  heavenly  feir ; 
The  vaulted  skies  with  her  loud  shrieks  resound. 
And  high  Olympus  trembles  at  the  wound. 
In  causes  just,  would  all  the  gods  oppoat^ 
'Twere  honest  to  dispute ;  soCatodiose. 
Dismiss  that  plea,  and  what  shall  blood  avail  ? 
If  beauty  is  deny'd,  shall  birth  prevail  i 
Blood,  Md  high  deeda»  in  distant  ages  done. 
Are  our  fbrefiither^s  merit,  net  our  own. 
Might  none  a  just  possession  be  allow'd. 
But  who  could  bring  desert,  or  boast  of  blood. 
What  numbers,  even  here,  might  be  condemn'd, 
Strip'd,  and  despoil'd  of  all,  revil'd,  cootemn'd  ? 
Take  a  just  view,  how  many  may  remark. 
Who  now 's  a  peer,  his  grandsire  Was  a  cler^ : 
Some  few  i%main,  eimobled  by  the  sword 
In  Gothic  times :  but  now,  to  be  my  lord. 
Study  the  law,  nor  do  these  robes  despise; 
Honour  the  gown,  from  whence  your  honours  rise. 

3  Niobe  turned  into  a  stone  for  presuming  to  com- 
pare herself  with  Diana. 

*  Propoetides,  certain  virgins,  who,  for  afironting 
Venus,  were  condemned  to  open  prostitution,  and 
afterwards  turned  into  stone. 

^  Minos  and  Rhadamanthus,  famous  legislators, 
who  for  their  strict  administration  of  justice,  were 
after  their  deaths  made  chief  judges  in  the  infernal 
r^ions. 

*  Venus. 


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TO  LADY  HYDE.. .TO  FLAVIA. 


17 


Those  fnnM  dicteton,  nho  subdtiM  the  friobe, 
Garc  the  precedence  to  the  peaceful  robe  j 
The  mighty  Julius,  pleadiug  at  the  bar, 
Was  greater,  than  when,  thundering  m  the  war. 
He  conquered  nations :  Tis  of  more  renown 
To  sare  a  client,  than  to  storm  a  town. 

**  How  dear  to  Britain  are  her  darling  laws ! 
What  blood  has  she  not  lavished  in  their  cause ! 
Kiogs  are  like  common  slaves  to  slaughter  led,  , 
Or  wander  through  the  world  to  beg  their  bread. 
When  regal  power  aspires  above  the  laws, 
A  private  wrong  beoon^es  a  public  cause.'' 

He  spoke.    The  nobles  difiier,  and  divide, 
Some  join  with  Law,  and  some  with  Beauty  side. 
Mofdtumt,  though  once  her  slave,  insults  the  fair. 
Whose  fetters  twas  bis  pride,  in  jrouth,  to  wear : 
So  Lucifer,  revohmg,  brav'd  the  power 
Whom  he  was  wont  to  worship  and  implore. 
Like  impious  is  their  rag<e,  who  liave  in  chase 
A  new  Omnipotence  in  Grafton's  face. 
But  Rochester,  undaunted,  just,  and  wise, 
Asserts  the  goddess  mth  the  charming  eves  ; 
And  O !  may  Beauty  never  want  reward 
For  thee,  her  noMe  champion,  and  her  gftaard. 
Beanty  triumphs,  and  Law  submitting  lies. 
The  tyrant,  tam'd,  aloud  for  mercy  cries ; 
Cooqoest  can  never  feil  in  radiant  Qrafton's  eyes. 


LADY  HYDE  K 

Whbn  fem'd  Apelles  soa|^  to  (rame 

Sbipe  ixnage  of  th*  Idalian  dame,         ^    • 

To  furnish  graces  for  the  piece, 

fie  summoned  all  the  nymphs  of  Qreece ; 

So  many  mortab  were  combined 

To  show  bow  one  imoxntal  shin'd. 

H^  Hyde  thus  sat  by  prcoy  too. 
As  Venus  then  was  said  to  do, 
Venus  herself,  and  all  the  train ! 
Of  goddesses  had  summoned  been ; 
The  painter  must  have  searched  the  skies,. 
To  match  the  laitre  of  her  eyes. 

Comparing  then,  while  thus  we  view 
The  ancient  Venus,  and  the  new ; 
In  her  we  many  mortals  see, 
Aa  many  goddesses  in  thee. 


LADY  HYDE 

•^     HAVIHG  THf  SMALL  fOX,  SOON  APTSa  THE 
SBCOVCEY  OP  MRS.  MOHUN. 

ScAica  could  the  general  joy  for  Mohon  appear. 
But  new  attempts  show  other  dangers  near ; 
Beauty  's  attack'd  in  her  imperiid  fort. 
Where  all  her  Loves  and  Graces  kept  their  oomt^ 
In  her  chief  residence,  besieg'd  at  last. 
Laments  to  see  her  fairest  fields  laid  waste. 

On  things  immortal,  all  attempts  are  vahi ; 
Tyrant  Disease,  tis  lots  of  time  and  pain ; 
Glut  thy  wild  rage,  and  load  thee  with  rich  prize 
Tom  from  her  cheeks,  her  fragrant  lips,  and  eyes : 
Let  her  but  live ;  as  much  vermilion  take, 
Ai  might  an  Hefen,  or  a  Venus  make ; 

'  Afterwards  comtten  of  QsreBdoB  and  Rochester. 
VOL.  XL 


Like  Thetis,  ^he  shall  frustrate  thy  vain  rape. 
And  in  variety  of  charms  escape. 

The  twinkling  stars  drop  numberless  each  night, 
Yet  shines  the  radiant  firmai^ent  as  bright ;  , 
So  from  the  ocean  should  we  rivers  drain. 
Still  would  enough  to  drown  the  work!  remain. 


THE  DUTCHESS  OF***, 

UMSSASOyABLr-SUtPHIZBD  IN  THE  EMSEACSS  09 

^     HER  Loan. 

pAttEST  Zellnda,  cease  to  chide,  or  grieve ; 
Nor  blush  at  jojrs  that  only  you  can  giye ;, 
Who  with  bold   eyes  surveyed   those   matehlesi 
Is  punish'd,  seeing  in  another's  arms :        [charms 
With  greedy  loi»ks  he  views  eacli  naked  part, 
Joy  feeds  his  eyes,  but  Envy  tears  bis  heart. 
So  caught  was  Mars,  and.  Mercury  aloud 
Proclaim'd  his  grief,  tl\at  he  was  not  tlie  god  ; 
So  to  be  caught,  was  every  god's  desire : 
Nor  less  than  Venus,  can  Zelinda  lire. 
Forgive  him  then,  thou  more  than  heavenly  fair. 
Forgive  his  rashness,  punish'd  by  despair ; 
All  that  we  know,  which  wretehed  mortals  feel 
In  those  sad  regions  where  the  tortur'd  dwell. 
Is,  that  they  see  the  raptures  of  the  bless'd. 
And  view  the  joys  which  they  must  never  taste. 


TO 

FLAVIA. 

WaiTrEW  OM  REE  GAEOEK  IN  THE  NOETB. 

What  charm  is  this,  that  in  the  midst  of  snow. 
Of  storms,  and  blasu,  the  choicest  fruits  do  grow  ? 
Melons  on  beds  of  ice  are  taught  to  bear. 
And  strangers  to  the  Sun,  yet  ripen  here ; 
On  frozen  ground  the  sweetest  flowers  arise, 
Unaeen  by  any  light,  but  Flavia's  oyes ; 
Where-e'er  she  treads,  beneath  the  Charmer's  feet 
The  rose,  the  jess'mine,  and  the  lilies  meet ; 
Where>e'er  she  looks,  behold  some  sudden  birth 
Adorns  the  trees,  and  fructifies  the  earth ; 
In  midst  of  mouutains,  and  unfruitful  ground. 
As  rich  an  Eden  as  the  first  is  found. 
In  this  new  Paradise  the  goddess  reigns 
In  sovereign  stato,  and  mocks  the  lover*s  pains  ; 
Beneath  those  beams  that  scorch  us  from  her  eyei^ 
Her  snowy  bosom  stUl^unmelted  lies ; 
Love  from  her  lips  spreads  all  his  odours  round. 
But  bears  on  ice,  and  springs  from  firozen  ground. 
So  cold  the  clime  that  can  such  wonders  bear. 
The  garden  seems  an  emblem  of  the  £ur. 


to 
THE  SAMEi 

SEE  OAEOBNS   RAVINO  ESCAPED  A  FLOOD  THAT  HAD 
LAID  ALL  THE  COUNTmV  SOUND  UNDEE  WaTEE* 

What  hands  divine  have  planted  and  protect, 
Tlie  torrent  spares,  and  deluges  respect ; 
So  when  the  waters  o'er  the  world  were  spread. 
Covering  each  oak,  and  every  mountain's  head, 
•fte  chosen  patriarch  saiPd  within  his  ark. 
Nor  might  the  waves  o'erwhclm  the  facsad  baik. 
C 


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IS 


LANSDOWNP^S  POEMS. 


The  charminip  Tlavta  is  no  less,  we  find. 
The  fiivourite  of  Heaven,  than  of  mankind ; 
The  gods,  like  mals,  imitate  our  care. 
And  vie  with  mortals  to  oMtge  the  fair ; 
These  fitvonrs  thus  bestow*d  on  her  alone. 
Are  but  tiie  homa^  which  they  send  her  down. 

O  Flavia !  may  thy  virtue  from  above 
Be  CKOwn'd  with  blessings,  endless  as  my  love. 


My  miEKD  DJL  GARTH. 

IN  BIS  SICKNESS. 

Maqhaon  sick,  in  every  hce  we  ^ind 
Mis  danger  is  the  danger  of  mankind ; 
Whose  ait  protecting,  Nature  Coukl  expire 
But  by  a  deluge,  or  the  general  fire. 
More  lives  he  saves.  Uian  perish  in  our  wars. 
And  iaster  thaA  a  plague  destro]rB,  repairs. 
Tlie  hold  caroliser,  and  adventurous  dame. 
Nor  fear  the  fever,  nor  refuse  the  flame ; 
Safe  in  his  skill,  from  all  restraints  set  free, 
6ut  conscious  shame,  remorse,  or  ^iety. 

^  Sire  of  all  arts  »,  defend  thy  darlmg  son ; 
O  !  sate  the  man  whose  life  's  so  much  our  own !  * 
On  whom,  like  Atlas,  the  whole  world 's  reclin'd. 
And  Ly  restoring  Garth,  preserve  mankind. 


TO  MY  DEAR  ElNSMAN, 

CHARLES  LORD  LANSDOWNE, 

UPON  THE  BOMBARDMENT  OP 

THE  TOWN  OF  GRANVILLE  IN  NORMANDY 

BY  THE  ENGLISH  FLEET. 

Tho*  built  by  gods,  consume  by  hostile  flame, 
Troy  bury*d  lies,  yet  lives  the  Trojan  name ; 
And  so  shall  thine,  though  with  these  walls  were  lost 
All  the  records  our  ancestors  could  boast. 
Ft*  Lathim  conqner*d,  and  for  Tumus  slain, 
jFjieas  lives,  though  not  one  stone  remain 
Where  he  arose :  nor  art  thou  less  renown'd 
For  thy  loud  trhimf^  On  Hungarian  ground. 

Those  arms,  2  which  for  nine  centuries  had  brav*d 
The  wrath  of  I1me,  on  antiqtte  stone  engravM, 
Now  torn  by  mortars,  stand  yet  undeiac*d 
i  )n  nobler  trophies,  by  thy  valour  rais'd : 
Safe  on  thy  eagle's  ^  wings  they  soar  above 
The  rage  of  war,  or  thunder  to  remove, 
Bortfe  \3f  the  bird  of  Oesar,  and  of  Jove^ 


LADY  HYDE, 

sirrmc  at  sir  Godfrey  knbller's 

FOR  HER  VicTURK. 

While  Kneller,  with  inimitable  art, 

AtttempCi  that  &ce  whose  print 's  on  every  heart, 

1  Apollo,  god  of  poetry  and  physic 

s  The  Granville  arms  still  remaining  at  that  time 
on  one  of  the  gates  of  the  town. 

3  He  was  created  a  count  of  the  Empire,  the  fa- 
mily arms  to  be  borne  for  ever  upon  the  breast  of 
the  imperial  spread  ea^ 


The  poet,  with  a  pencil  less  oonfin*d. 

Shall  paint  her  virtaes)  and  describe  her  miiWi 

Unlock  the  shirine,  and  to  the  sight  unfold  > 

The  secret  gems,  and  all  the  jnwaod  gold. 

Two  only  patterns  do  the  Muses  name. 

Of  perfect  beauty,  but  of  guilty  £ame  ; 

A  Venus  and  an  Helen  have  been  seen. 

Both  peijur'd  wives,  the  goddess  and  the  queen  : 

In  this,  the  third,  are  reconcil'd  at  last 

Those  jarring  attributes  of  fetr  and  chaste. 

With  graces  that  attract,  but  not  ensnare. 

Divinely  good,  as  she's  divinely  f^ur; 

With  beauty,  not  afl^ted,  vain,  lior  proud  ; 

With  greatness,  easy,  affid>le,  and  good : 

Others,  by  guilty  artifice,  and  arts 

Of  promised  kindness,  practise  on  our  hearts^ 

With  expectation  blow  the  passion  up ; 

She  fens  the  fire,  without  one  gale  of  hope. 

Like  the  chaste  Moon,  she  shines  to  all  mankind. 

But  to  Endymion  b  her  love  oonfin'd. 

What  cruel  destiny  on  Beauty  waits. 

When  on  one  face  depend  so  many  fates ! 

Oblig'd  by  honour  to  relieve  but  one. 

Unhappy  men  by  thousands  are  undone. 


MRS,  GRANVILLE, 

OF  WOTTON  IN  BUCKINGHAMSHIRft;* 
AFTERWARDS  LADY  CONWAY. 

Love,  like  a  tjnrant  whom  no  laws  coostrain. 
Now  for  some  a^es  kept  the  world  in  pain  ; 
Beauty  by  vast  destructions  got  renown. 
And  Ipvers  only  by  their  rage  were  known. 
But  Granville,  more  auspicious  to  mankind. 
Conquering  the  heart,  as  much  instructs  the  miild ; 
Blest  in  th6  fate  of  her  victorious  eyes. 
Seeing,  we  love ;  and  hearing,  we  grow  mat : 
So  Rome  for  wisdom,  as  for  conquest  fem*d. 
Improved  with  art^,  whom  she  by  arms  had  tam*d. 
Above  the  clouds  is  placM  this  glorious  light. 
Nothing  lies  hid  from  her  enquiring  sight ; 
Athens  and  Rome  for  arts  restored  rejoice. 
Their  language  takes  new  music  from  her  voice  ^ 
learning  and  Lo\-e,  in  the  same  seat  we  find. 
So  bright  her  eyes,  and  so  adom'd  lier  mind. 

Long  had  Minena  govem'd  in  the  skies. 
But  now  descends,  confest  to  human  eyes  ; 
Behold  in  Granville  that  inspiring  queen. 
Whom  learned  Athens  so  ador>d  unseen. 


MRS.  AFRA  BEHK. 
Two  warriar  chiefs  *  the  voice  of  Fame  divide. 
Who  best  deserv'd,  not  Plutarch  could  decide : 
Behold  two  mightier  conquerors  appear. 
Some  for  your  wit,  some  for  your  eyes  declare  ; 
Debates  lyiae,  which  captivates  us  most. 
And  none  can  tell  the  charm  by  which  he 's  lost. 
The  bow  and  quiver  does  Diana  bear ; 
Venus  the  dove ;  Pallas  the  shield  anid  spear  : 
Poets  such  emblems  to  their  gods  assign. 
Hearts  bleeding  by  the  dart  and  pen  be  thine. 

'*  Alexander  and  Cxsar. 


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THE  DESERTION... SONG. 


19 


*FHE  DESERTION. 

Now  flf ,  Discretion,  to  my  aid, 

See  haughty  Myn,  fiur  and  bright. 
In  an  the  pomp  of  Love  arrayed ; 
Ah  !  bow  I  tremble  at  the  sight  1 
She  comes,  she  comes—before  her  al( 
Msmkind  does  prostrate  fall. 
Lore,  a  destroyer  fierce  and  young. 
Adveot'rous,  terrible,  and  strong, 
Cnd  and  rash,  deligfatmg  still  to  vex, 

Sparing  nor  age  nor  sex, 
Cbmmands  in  chief ;  well  fortify'd  he  lies, 
And  from  herlips,  her  cheepcs  and  eyes. 
All  opposition  he  defies. 
Reason,  Love*s  old  invete>>^te  foe. 
Scarce  ever  reoondl'd  till  now. 
Reason  assists  her  too. 
A  vise  commander  he,  for  council  fit ; 
But  nice  and  coy,  nor  has  been  seen  to  sit 
Iq  modem  synod,  nor  appeared  of  late 
In  courts,  nor  camps,  nor  m  affairs  of  state ; 
Reason  proclaims  them  all  his  foes. 
Who  such  resistless  charms  oppose.* 
My  very  bosom  friends  make  war 
Withm  my  breast,  and  in  her  interests  are ; 
Esteem  and  Judgment  with  strong  Fancy  join 
To  court,  and  call  the  fiur  invader  in ; 
My  darling  favourite  Inclination  too, 
'  All,  all  conspiring  with  the  foe. 
Ah !  whither  shall  I  fly  to  hide 
My  weakness  from  the  conqu'rot-'s  pride  ? 
Now,  now.  Discretion,  be  my  guide. 
But  see,  this  mighty  Archimedes  too. 
Surrenders  now. 
Presuming  longerto  resist. 
His  very  name 
Discretion  must  disclaim ; 
Fblly  and  Madness  only  would  persist. 


80NO. 


I'll  tdl  her  the  next  time,  said  I : 

In  vam  !  in  vain  !  for  when  I  try. 
Upon  my  timorous  tongue  the  trembling  accents  die. 

Alas !  a  thousand  thousand  fears 

StiO  overawe  when  she  appears !  [in  tears. 

My  breath  is  ^pent  in  sighs,  my  eyes  are  drown'd 


m     PEAISB    OF 

MYIU. 


ToHE,  tune  thy  lyre,  begm  my  Muse, 
What  nymph,  what  queen,  what  goddess  wilt  thou 
choose? 
Whose  praises  sing  ?  What  charmer's  name 
IVansmit  immortal  down  to  Fame  ? 
Strike,  strike  thy  springs,  let  Echo  take  the  sound. 
And  bear  it  &r,  to  all  the  mountains  round ; 
Pmdtts  again  shall  hear,  again  rejoice. 
And  Hemus  too,  as  when  th'  enchantmg  voice 
Of  tuneful  Orpheus  charm'd  the  grove, 
Tbiigfat  oaks  to  dance,  and  made  the  cedan  move. 


Nor  Venus,  nor  Diana  will  we  name ; 
Myra  is  Venus  and  Diana  too, 
All  that  was  feign'd  of  them,  appIyM  to  her,  is  true  ; 
Then  smg,  my  Muse,  let  Myra  be  our  theme. 

As  when  the  shepherds  would  a  garland  make. 
They  search  with  care  the  fragrant  meadows 
round, 
Plucking  but  here  and  there,  and  only  take 
The  choicest  flow'rs  with  which  some  nymph  is 
crown'd : 

In  framing  Myra  so  divinely  fiur. 
Nature  has  taken  the  same  care } 
All  that  is  lovely,  noble,  good,  we  see,  , 

All,  beauteous  M}Ta,  all  bound  up  in  thee. 
Where  Myra  is,  there  is  the  queen  of  Love, 
Th'  Arcadian  pastures,  and  th'  Idalian  grove. 
Let  Myra  dance,  so  charming  is  her  mien» 
In  every  movement  every  grace  is  seen ; 
Let  Myra  sing,  the  notes  so  sweetly  wound. 
The  Syrens  would  be  silent  at  the  sound. 
Place  me  on  mountains  of  eternal  snow. 
Where  all  is  ice,  all  wint^  winds  that  blow  ; 
Or  cast  me  underneath  the  burning  line. 

Where  everlasting  Sun  does  shine ; 
Where  all  is  scorch'd — ^whatever  you  decree. 

Ye  gods!  Where^r  I  shall  bO) 
Myra  shall  still  be  lov'd,  and  still  ador'd  by  me. 


SONG. 

TO   MYRA. 


Why,  cruel  creature,  why  so  bent 

To  vex  a  tender  heart  ? 
To  gold  and  title  you  relent. 

Love  throws  in  vain  his  dart. 

IL 
Let  glittering  fbols  in  courts  be  great ; 

For  pay,  let  armies  move ; 
Beauty  should  have  no  oUier  bait 

But  gentle  vows,  and  love. 

in. 

If  on  those  endless  charms  jrou  lay 

The  value  that  *s  their  due. 
Kings  are  themselves  too  poor  to  pay, 

A  thousand  worlds  too  few. 
IV. 
But  if  a  passion  without  vice. 

Without  disguise  or  art. 
Ah  Myra  1  if  true  love 's  jrour  price, 

Behokl  it  in  my  heart. 


MYRA  SINGING. 


The  Syrens,  once  deluded,  vainly 'charm'd, 
Ty'd  to  the  mast,  Ulysses  saiPd  unharmM ; 
Had  M3rra's  voice  entic'd  his  listening  ear. 
The  Gieek  had  stopt,  and  would  have  dy*d  to  hear. 
When  Myra  sings,  we  seek  th'  enchanting  sound, 
And  bless  the  notes  that  do  so  sweetly  wound. 
What  music  needs  must  dwell  upon  that  tongue. 
Whose  speech  is  tunefld  as  another V  song ! 
C2 


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20 


LANSDOWNE'S  POEMS- 


Such  btrmany  !  such  wit !  a  hce  to  £ur ! 
So  man  J  pointed  arrows  who  can  bear } 
Who  from  her  wit,  or  from  her  beauty  fliei, 
If  with  her  Toioe  she  orertakes  him,  dies. 

Like  soldiers  so  in  battle  we  succeed, 
One  peril  'scaping,  by  another  bleed ; 
In  vain  the  dart,  or  glittering  sword  we  shun, 
Condenm*d  to  perish  by  the  siaugbt'ring  gun. 


MYIU. 

AT  A  aSTIBW  OP  THE  OUARDf   IV   ■TDt-fAtK. 

Let  m^mer  beauties  conquer  singly  still, 
But  haughty  Myra  will  by  thoussinds  kill ; 
Through  anned  ranks  triumphantly  she  drives, 
And  with  one  glance  commands  a  thousand  li>'e8 : 
The'trembling  heroes,  nor  resist,  nor  fly, 
But  at  the  b^  of  all  their  squadrons  die. 


TO 

MYRA. 


Natuee,  indulgent,  provident  and  kind. 
In  all  things  that  ekoel,  tome  use  designed ; 
The  radiant  Sun,  of  every  heavenly  fight 
The  first,,  (did  Myra  not  dispute  that  right) 
Sends  from  above  ten  thousand  blessings  down ; 
Nor  b  he  set  so  high  for  show  alone, 
His  beams  reviving  with  auspicious  fire. 
Freely  we  all  ci^y  what  all  admire : 
The  Moon  and  stars,  those  ^thful  guides  of  night. 
Are  placM  to  help,  not  entertain  the  sight : 
Plants,  fruits,  and  flowers  the  fertile  fields  produce, 
Kot  for  vain  ornament,  but  wholesome  use ; 
Health  they  restore,  and  nourishment  they  give. 
We  see  with  pleasure,  but  we  taste  to  live. 

Then  think  pot,  Myra,  that  thy  form  was  meant 
More  to  create  desire,  than  to  content ; 
Would  the  just  Gods  so  many  charms  provide 
Only  to  gratify  a  mortal's  pride  ? 
Would  tiMjy  have  form'd  thee  so  above  thy  sex. 
Only  to  play  the  tyrant,  and  to  vex  ? 
*Tis  impious  pleasure  to  delight  in  harm. 
And  Beauty  should  be  kind,  as  well  as  charm. 


THE 

PROGRESS  OF  BEAUTY, 

The  God  of  day  descending  from  above, 
Mixt  with  the  sea,  and  got  the  queen  of  Love. 
Beauty,  that  fires  the  world,  't«as  tit  should  rise 
From  him  alone  who  lights  the  stars  and  skies. 
In  Cyprus  long,  by  oicn  and  gods  obey'd, 
The  lover's  toil  she  gratefully  repaid, 
Promiscuous  blessings  to  her  slaves  assign'd, 
And  taught  the  woijd  that  Beauty  should  be  kind. 
Learn  by  this  pattern,  all  ye  fair,  to  charm, 
Bright  be  your  beams,  but  without  scorching  warm. 
'    Helen  was  next  from  Greece  to  Phrygia  brought, 
Witli  much  expense  of  blood  and  empire  sought : 
Beauty  and  Love  the  noblest  cause  afford, 
That  can  try  valour,  or  employ  the  sword. 
Not  men  alone  incited  by  her  charms, 
But  Hea>^u  'sconcemid,  and  all  the  gods  take  arms. 


The  happy  Trojan  gloriously  ponest^ 

Enjoys  the  dame,  and  leaves  to  Fate  the  rest 

Your  cold  reflections,  moralisU,  forbear, 

His  title 's  best  who  best  can  please  the  fair. 

And  now  the  gods,  in  pity  to  the  cares, 

The  fierce  desires,  distractions,  and  despairs 

Of  tortured  men,  while  Beauty  was  confin*d, 

Resolv'd  to  multiply  the  cliarming  kind. 

Greece  was  the  land  where  this  bright  race  b^uot 

And  saw  k  thousand  rivals  to  the  Sun. 

Hence  followed  arts,  while  each  employed  bis  care 

In  new  productions  to  delight  the  fkir : 

To  bright  Aspasia  Socrates  retir'd. 

His  wisdom  grew  but  as  his  love  in^ir'd ; 

Those  rocks  and  oUcs,  which  such  emotions^f^ 

Were  cruel  maids  whom  Orpheus  taaght  to  melt ; 

Music,  and  songs,  and  every  way  to  njove 

The  ravishM  heart,  were  seeds  and  plants  of  love. 

The  gods,  enticed  by  so  divine  a  birth. 
Descend  from  Heaven  to  this  new  heaven  on  £arth  } 
Thy  wit,  O  Mercury, 's  no  defence  from  Love ; 
Nor  Mars,  thy  Urget;  nor  thy  thunder,  Jove. 
The  mad  immortals  in  a  thousand  shapes. 
Range  the  wide  globe;   some  yield,  some  sofier 
Invaded,  or  deceived,  not-ene  escapes.  [lapes. 

The  wife,  though  a  bright  goddess,  thus  gives  place 
To  mortal  concubines  of  fresh  embrace; 
By  such  examples  were  we  taught  to  see 
The  life  and  soul  of  Love,  is  sweet  variety. 

In  tho^  first  times,  ere  charmhig  womankind 
ReformM  their  pleasures,  polishing  the  mind. 
Rude  were  their  revels,  and  obscene  their  joys. 
The  broils  of  drunkards,  and  the  lust  of  boys ; 
Phoebus  laments  for  Hyacinthus  dead. 
And  Juno,  jealous,  storms  at  Ganymod. 
Return,  my  Muse,  and  close  that  odious  scene. 
Nor  stain  thy  verse  with  images  unclean ; 
Of  Beauty  sing,  her  shining  progress  view. 
From  clime  to  clime  the  dazzling  light  pursue. 
Tell  how  the  goddess  spread,  and  huw  in  empirt 
grew. 

Let  others  govern,  or  defend  the  state, 
Plead  at  the  bar,  or  manage  a  debate, 
fn  lofty  arts  and  sciences  excel. 
Or  in  proud  domes  employ  their  boasted  skill. 
To  marble  and  to  brass  such  features  give. 
The  metal  and  the  stone  may  seem  to  live; 
Descril)e  the  stars,  and  planetary  way, 
And  trace  the  footsteps  of  Eternal  Day : 
Be  this,  my  Muse,  thy  pleasure  and  thy  care, 
A  slave  to  Beauty,  to  r^rd  the  fair. 
Still  wand' ring  in  love's  sweet  delicious  maxe. 
To  sing  the  triumphs  of  some  heavenly  face. 
Of  lovely  dames,  who  with  a  smile  or  firown 
Subdue  the  proud,  the  suppliant  lover  crown. 
From  Venus  down  to  Myra  bring  thy  song. 
To  thee  alone  such  tender  tasks  belong. 

From  Greece  to  Afric,  Beauty  takes  her  flight. 
And  ripens  with  her  near  approach  to  light : 
Frown  not,  ye  fair,  to  hear  of  swarthy  damei» 
With  radiant  eyes,  that  take  unerring  aims ; 
Beauty  to  no  complexion  is  confin'd, 
Is  of  all  colours,  and  by  none  defined; 
Jewels  that  shine,  in  gold  or  silver  set. 
As  precious  and  as  s]Mrkling  are  in  jet. 
Here  Cleopatra,  with  a  liberal  heart, 
Bounteous  of  love,  improved  the  joy  with  art, 
The  first  who  gave  recruited  slaves  to  know 
That  the  rich  pearl  was  o^more  um  than  ihov^ 


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THE  PROGRESS  OF  BEAUTY. 


21 


Who  with  hj^  meatf ,  or  a  luxuiioiif  draught. 
Kept  ky^  for  ever  flowing,  and-  full  fraught. 
JubQS  and  Anthony,  those  lords  of  all. 
Each  in  his  turn  present  thi^  cooqner'd  ball ; 
Those  dreadfiil  eagles,  that  had  fao'd  the  light 
From  pole  to  pole,  ^1  dazzled  at  her  sight : 
Nor  was  her  death  less  glorious  than  her  life, 
A  constant  mistress,  and  a  fiuthful  wife; 
Her  dying  truth  some  generous  tears  would  cost. 
Had  not  her  £ite  in^irM  the  World  well  Lost  > ; 
With  secret  pride  the  ravish'd  Muses  riew 
The  image  of  that  death  which  Dryden  drew. 

Pleas'd  in  such  happy  climates,  warm  and  bright. 
Lore  for  some  ages  reveirdwith  delight ; 
The  martial  Moors  in  gallantry  refin'd. 
Invent  new  arts  to  make  their  charmers  kmd  ; 
See  in  the  lists,  by  golden  barriers  bound, 
In  warlike  ranks  they  wait  the  trumpet's  sound ; 
Some  lore-derice  is  wrought  on  every  sword. 
And  every  ribbon  bears  some  mystic  word. 
As  when  we  see  the  winged  Winds  engage. 
Mounted  on  coursers,  foaming  flame  and  rage, 
Rustlmg  from  every  quarter  of  the  sky^. 
North,  east,  and  west,  in  aify  swiftness  vie  ; 
One  Qoud  repulsed,  new  combatants  prepare 
To  meet  as  fierce,  «ad  form  a  thundering  war ; 
So  when  the  trumpet  sounding,  gives  the  sign, 
The  justling  chie&  in  rude  rencounter  join, 
So  meet,  and  so  renew  the  dextrous  fight. 
Each  hit  beholder  trembUng  for  her  Ipught  y 
Still  as  one  foils,  another  rushes  in. 
And  all  must  be  overcome,  or  none  can  win. 
The  victor,  from  the  shining  dame,  whose  eyes 
Aided  his  conquering  arm,  receives  a  precious  prize. 

Thus  flourished  Love,  and  Beauty  reignVi  in  state, 
TiU  the  proud  Spaniard  gave  these  glories  date ; 
past  is  the  gallantry,  the  fome  remains, 
lYansmitted  safe  in  Dryden's  loily  scenes  4 
Granada  >  lost,  beheld  her  pomps  restored. 
And  Almahide  ',  once  more  by  kings  ador'd^ 

Love,  driven  thence,  to  colder  Britain  flies. 
And  with  bright  nymphs  the  distant  Sun  supplies  : 
IMoances,  which  relate  the  dreadful  fights. 
The  loves  and  prowess  of  adventVous  imights. 
To  anhnate  their  rage,  a  kiss,  record, 
From  Britain's  fairest  nymph  was  the  reward ; 
Thus  ancient  to  Love's  empire  was  the  claim 
Of  British  Beauty,  and  so  wide  the  fome. 
Which,  like  our  flag  upon  the  fcas,  gives  law 
By  right  avow'd,  and  keeps  the  world  in  awe^ 

Our  gallant  kings,  of  whom  large  annsls  prove 
The  mighty  deeds,  stand  as  reoown'd  for  love ; 
A  monarch's  right  o'er  Beauty  they  may  claim. 
Lords  of  that  ocean  from  whence  Beauty  came. 
.  Thy  Rosamond,  great  Henry,  on  the  stage. 
By  a  late  Muse  presented  in  our  age. 
With  aking  hearts,  and  flowing  eyes  we  view. 
While  that  dissembled  death  presents  the  tme 
In  Bracegirdlc  «  the  persons  so  agree. 
That  all  seems  real  the  spectators  see. 

>  All  for  Love;  or, The  Worid  well  Lost :  writ- 
ten by  Mr.  Dryden. 

^The  Conquest  of  Granada,  written  l^   Mr., 
Dryden. 

3  The  part  of  Almahide,  performed  by  Mcf. 
Beanor  Gwyn,  mistress  |o  king  Charles  XL 
*  A  fomoos  actress. 


Of  Soots  and  Gauls  defeated,  and  their  kmgs. 
Thy  captives,  Edward,  Fame  for  ever  sings ; 
Like  thy  high  deeds,  thy  noble  loves  are  prais'd. 
Who  hast  to  Love  the  noblest  trophy  reis  d : 
Thy  statues,  Venus,  though  by  Phidias^s  hand, 
DesignM  immortal,  yet  no  longer  stand ; 
The  magic  of  thy  shin'mg  zone  is  part. 
But  Salisbury's  garter  shall  for  ever  last. 
Which,  through  the  world  by  living  monarchswom. 
Adds  grace  to  sceptres,  and  does  orowns^adom. 

If  such  tiieir  fame  who  gave  these  rights  divine 
To  sacred  Love,  O  !  what  dishonour's  thine, 
Forgetful  queen,  who  sever'd  that  bright  hcad^ 
Which  charm'd  two  mighty  monarchs  to  her  bed  ? 
Hadst  thou  been  bom  a  man,  thou  hadst  not  err'd. 
Thy  fhme  had  liv'd,  and  Beauty  been  preferr'd ; 
But  O  !  what  mighty  magic  can  assuage 
A  woman's  envy,  and  a  bigot's  rage  ? 

Lovetir'd  at  lengthy  Love,  that  delights  fo  smile. 
Flying  fkom  seenes  of  horrour  «,  quits  our  isle. 
With  Charles,  the  Cufuds  and  the  Graces  gone. 
In  eaile  live,  for  Love  and  Charles  were  one ; 
With  Charl^he  wanders,  and  for  Charles  he  mourns. 
But  O !  how  fierce  the  joj  when  Charles  returns  I 
As  eager  flames,  with  opposition  pent. 
Break  out  impetuous  when  they  find  a  vent; 
As  a  fierce  torrent,  boan^  on  his  race. 
Forcing  his  way,  rolls  with  redoubled  pace ; 
From  the  loud  palace  to  the  silent  grove. 
All,  by  the  king's  example,  live  and  love ; 
The  Muses  with  diviner  voices  sing ; 
And  aB  rejoice  to  please  the  godlike  king. 

Then  Waller  is  immortal  vcne  proclaims 
The  shming  court,  and  all  the  glittering  dames ; 
Thy  beauty,  Sidney  »,  like  Achillea'  swocd. 
Resistless,  stands  upon  as  sure  record ; 
The  fiercest  hero,  and  the  brightest  dame. 
Both  sung  alike,  shall  have  their  fate  the  Same. 

And  now,  my  Mns«,  a  nobler  flight  prepare, 
And  sing  so  loud  that  Heaven  and  Earth  may  hear^ 
Behold  from  Italy  an  awfol  ray 
Of  heavenly  light  illuminates  the  day. 
Northward  she  bends,  nugestically  bright. 
And  here  she  fixes  her  hnperial  light 
Be  bokl,  be  boU,  my  Muse,  nor  fear  to  raise 
Thy  voice  to  her  who  was  thy  earliest  praise  ; 
What  though  the  sullen  Fates  refose  to  shine. 
Or  frown  severe  on  thy  audacious  line. 
Keep  thy  bright  theme  within  thy  steady  sight. 
The  cknids  AaH  fly  before  the  dazzling  light. 
And  everlasting  day  direct  thy  lofty  flight 
Thou  who  has  never  yet  put  on  divgulte 
To  flatter  faction,  or  descend  to  vice ; 
Let  no  vain  fear  thy  generous  ardour  tame. 
But  stand  erect,  and  sound  as  loud  as  Fame^ 

As  when  our  eye  some  prospect  would  pursue. 
Descending  from  a  hill,  looks  round  to  view. 
Passes  o'er  lawns  and  meadows  till  it  gains 
Some  favourite  spot,  and,  fixing,  there  remains : 
With  equal  rapture  my  transported  Must 
Flies  other  objects,  this  bright  theme  to  choose. 

Queen  of  our  hearts,  and  charmer  of  our  sight, 
A  monarch's  pride,  his  glory  and  delight, 

'Mury  queen  of  Scots,  beheaded  by  queen 
Elizabeth. 

^  The  Rdiellion;  and  death  of  king  Charles  I. 

*»  The  lady  Dorothy  Sidney,  celebrated  by  Mr. 
Waller  undtr  the  name  of  Sacharissa. 


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LANSDOWNE'S  POEMS. 


Prmcew  ador'd  and  lov^d  I  if  verse  can  give   , 
A  deathless  nane,  thipe  shall  for  ever  Ihre; 
Invok'd  where-e*er  the  British  Uon  roars. 
Extended  as  the  seas  that  gird  the  British  shores. 
The  wise  immortals  in  their  seats  above. 
To  croiwn  their  labours,  still  appointed  Love ; 
Phcebus  enjoyed  the  goddess  of  the  sea, 
Alctdes  had  Omphole,  James  has  thee. 
O  happy  James !  content  thy  mighty  mind, 

•  Grudge  not  the  world,  for  still  thy  queen  is  kind. 
To  lie  but  at  whose  feet  more  glory  brings. 
Than  'tis  to  tread  on  sceptres,  and  on  kings : 
Secure  of  empire  in  that  beauteous  breast. 
Who  would  not  give  their  crowns  to  be  so  blest  ? 

'  Was  Helen  half  so  fair,  so  form'd  for  joy. 
Well  chose  the  Trojan,  and  well  burnt  was  Ttoy. 
But  ah  !  what  strangei  vicsasitudes  of  fate, 
What  chance  attends  on  every  worldly  s^te } 
As  when  the  skies  were  sacked,  the  conquerM  gods, 
Compell'd  from  Heaven,  forsook  their  blest  abodes; 
Wandering  in  woods,  they  hid  from  den  to  den. 
And  sought  their  safety  in  the  shapes  of  men: 
As  when  the  winds  with  kindling  flames  conspire. 
The  blaze  mcreases,  as  they  fon  the  fire ; 
From  roof  to  roof  the  burning  torrent  pours, 
Kor  spares  the  palace,  nor  the  k)ftie8t  towers : 
Or,  as  the  stately  pine,  erecting  high 
Her  lofty  branches,  shooUng  to  the  sky. 
If  riven  by  the  thunderbolt  of  Jove, 
Down  foils  at  once  the  pride^of  all  the  grove. 
Level  with  lowest  shrubs  lies  the  tall  head. 
That,  rear'd  ak>ft,  as  to  the  clouds  was  spread. 
So******* 

•  But  cease,  my  Muse,  thy  colours  are  too  foint. 
Hide  with  a  veil  those  griefs  which  none  can  paint; 
This  Sun  is  set.*~But  see  in  bright  array 

What  hosts  of  heavenly  light  recruit  the  day. 
Love,  m  a  shining  galaxy,  appears 
Triumphant  still,  and  Grafton  leads  the  stars. 
Ten  thousand  Loves,  ten  thousand  several  ways 
Invade  adoring  crowds,  who  die  to  gaze ; 
Her  eyes  resi^iess  as  the  Syrens*  voice, 
So  sweet 's  the  charm,  we  m^e  our  fote  our  choice. 
Who  most  resembles  her  let  next  be  nam'd, 
Villiers  ',.for  wisdom  and  deep  judgment  fom*d, 
Of  a  high  race,  victorious  Beaiity  brings 
To  grace  our  courts,  and  captivate  our  kings. 

With  what  delight  my  Muse  to  Sandwich  flies ! 
Whose  wit  is  piercing  as  her  sparkling  eyes : 
Ah  !  how  she  mounts,  and  spreads  her  airy  wings, 
And  tunes  her  voice,  when  she  of  Ormood  sings  ! 
Of  radiant  Ormond,  only  fit  to  be 
The  successor  of  beauteous  Ossory. 

Richmond 's  a  title,  that  but  nam'd,  implies 
Majestic  graces,  and  victorious  eyes ; 
Fair  Villiers  first,  then  h^ghty  Stuart  came. 
And  Brudenal  now  no  less  adorns  the  name. 
Dorset  already  is  inmiortal  made 
In  Prior's  verse,  nor  needs  a  second  aid. 

By  Bentinck  and  fhir  Rutenberg  ms  find. 
That  Btuuty 'to  no  climate  is  confin'd. 

Rupert,  of  royal  Uoad,  with  modest  grace. 
Blushes  to  hear  the  triumphs  of  her  fa^ 

Not  Helen  with  St  Albans  miffht  compare : 
Nor  let  the  Muse  omit  Scroop,  Holms,  and  Haro: 
'  Hyde,  Venus  is ;  the  Graces  are  Riklare. 

1  Countess  of  Orkney. 


Soft  and  delieioas  as  a  soutbera  dcy, 
Are  Paihwood's  smiles;  when  Damley  *  (rcmut 

we  die. 
Careless,  but  jti  secure  of  conqoeft  still, 
Lu'son  3,  nnaiming,  never  fails  to  kill ; 
Guiltless  of  pride  to  captivate,  or  shine. 
Bright  without  art,  she  wounds  without  design : 
But  Wyndham  hkc  a  tyrant  throws  the  dart. 
And  takes  a  cruel  pleasure  in  the  smart, 
Froud  of  the  ravage  that  her  beauties  nuJce, 
Delights  in  wounds,  and  kills  for  killing  sake  ; 
Asserting  the  dominion  of  her  eyes. 
As  heroes  fight  for  gk)ry,  not  for  prize. 

The  skilful  Muse*s  earliest  care  has  t 
The  praise  of  ocver-foding  Bffazarine ; 
The  Poet  *  and  his  theme,  in  spite  dVmt, 
For  ever  young,  enjoy  an  endlev  prime. 
With  charms  so  numerous  Myra  does  surprize. 
The  lover  knows  not  by  which  dart  he  dies ; 
So  thick  the  volley,  aid  the  wound  so  sure. 
No  flight  can  save,  no  remedy  can  cure. 

Yet  ^  Uawning  in  her  in&ncy  of  light, 
O  see  !  another  Brudend,  heavenly  bright. 
Bom  to  fulfil  the  glories  of  her  Ime, 
And  fix  Love's  empire  in  that  race  divine. 

Fain  would  my  Muse  to  Cecil  ^  bend  her  sight. 
But  turns  astonished  from  the  dazzling  light. 
Nor  dares  attempt  to  climb  the  steepy  flight. 

O  Kneller !  like  thy  pictures  were  my  song. 
Clear  like  thy  paint,  nid  like  thy  pencil  strong ; 
These  matchless  Beauties  should  recorded  boi, 
Immortal  in  my  verse,  as  in  thy  Gallery  "'. 


TO  THB 

COUNTESS  OF  NEfTBOURG, 

INSISTING  1£ARNESTLY  TO  IE  TOLD  WHO  I  MEANT 
BT    MYRA. 

With  Myra's  Charms,  and  my  extreme  despaur. 
Long  had  my  Muse  amaz'd  the  reader's  ear. 
My  friends,  with  pity,  heard  the  moumfbl  sound. 
And  all  enquired  ttom  whence  the  fatal  wound ; 
Th'  astonished  world  behekl  an  endless  flame, 
Ne*er  to  be  quench'd,  unknowing  whence  it  came : 
So  scattered  fire  from  soorch'd  Vesuvius  flies. 
Unknown  the  source  from  whence  those  flames  arise: 
.£g3rptian  Nile  so  spreads  its  waten  round,  ^ 

O^rflowing  for  and  near,  its  head  unfound. 

Myra  herself,  touch'd  with  the  moving  song, 
Would  needs  be  toM  to  whom  those  plaints  beloog; 
My  timorous  tongue,  qot  daring  to  confess. 
Trembling  to  name,  would  foin  hare  had  her  guess; 
Impatient  of  excuse,  she  urges  still, 
Persists  in  her  demand,  she  must,  she  will  j 
If  silent,  I  am  threatened  with  her  hate ; 
If  I  obey — Ah  !  what  may  be  my  fote  ? 
Uncertain  to  conceal,  or  to  unfold ; 
Slie  smiles— the  goddess  smiles— and  I  grow  bold. 

^Lady  Catherine  Damley ,  ■  dutcbess  of  Biick« 
ingham. 

3  Lady  Gower. 

*  Monsieur  St  Evreroont 

5  Lady  Molyneux. 

.^  Lady  Ranelagh. 

"^  The  Gallery  of  Beauties  in  Hampton-Cowty 
drawaby  «ir  Qod&ey  Kneller* 


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SOSGS  to  MYRAu 


2S 


My  yom%  to  Mjrra,  all  were  meant  to  tbee, 
TIm  pnbe,  the  lofe»  the  inatcble»  constancy. 
Tvas  thus  of  oM,  when  atl  th'  immortal  dames 
Weie  grac*d  by  poets,  each  with  sevenU  names  -, 
Tor  Vemn,  Cjrtberea  was  in^rok*d  | 
AHais  for  Fallas,  to'nritoilia  smokU 
Such  names  were  theirs ;  and  thoa  the  roost  divine. 
Most  IotM  of  hearty  beauties— Myra  's  thi^ 


MYRA. 
L 

So  calm,  and  so  serene,  l)ut  now, 

What  means  this  chunge  on  Myra's  brow } 

Her  aguish  lov^  now  glows  and  burns. 

Then  chills  and  shakes,  and  the  cold  €X  returns. 

U. 
Modi'd  with  dehiding  looks  and  smiles; 

When  on  her  pity  I  depend. 
My  aiiy  hope  die  soon  b^^es, 

And  laughs  to  toe  my  torments  nearer  end, 
IIL 

So  up  the  steepy  hill,  with  pain, 

The  weighty  stone  is  rolPd  m  vain. 
Which,  havmg  touched  the  top,  recoils, 
And  leaves  the  laborer  to  renew  his  toils. 


TO 

MYUJ. 

Lost  in  a  labjnrinth  of  doubts  and  joys, 

Whom  now  her  smiles  revived,  her  scorn  deitroyi : 

She  will,  and  she  will  not,  she  giants,  denies. 

Consents,  retracts,  adv&nces,  and  then  flies, 

Approvhig,  and  rejecting  in  a  breath, 

Now  profTring  mercy,  now  presenting  death. 

Thus  hoping,  thus  despairing,  never  sure. 

How  various  are  the  torments  I  endure  ! 

4>uel  estate  of  doubt !  Ah,  Myra,  try 

Once  to  resolve— or  let  me  live>  or  die. 


TO 

MVRA.     . 
I. 
TaouGRTFUL  nights,  and  restless  waking, 

Oh,  the  pains  that  we  endure ! 
Broken  fsith,  unkind  forsaking, 
Ever  doubting,  never  sure. 

11- 
Hopes  deceiving,  vaho  endeavours. 

What  a  race  has  Love  to  run  ! 
False  protesting,  fleeting  fikvours,^ 

Ev'ry,  ev*ry  way  undone. 
IIL 
SbU  complahung,  and  defending. 

Both  to  love,  yet  not  agree ; 
Fears  tormenting,  passion  rending, 

Ob!  the  pangs  of  jealousy! 
IV. 
From  Mcb  painftil  ways  of  Irving, 

Ah!  bow  sweet,  ooold  Love  be  fre^! 
StSl  prawntmg,  still  receiving, 

Ikroe^  ipy&artai  eoilacy . 


SONG  TO  MYRA. 

Why  should  a  heart  so  tender,  break  ? 

O  Myra !  give  its  anguish  ea^e ; 
The  use  of  beauty  you  mistake, 
^  Not  meant  to  vex,  but  please. 
Those  lips  for  smiling  were  design*d ; 

That  bosom  to  be  prest ; 
Your  eyes  to  languish,  and  look  kind ; 

For  amorous  arms,  your  waist. 
Each  thing  has  its  appointed  right, 

Established  by  the  pow*rs  above, 
The  Sun  to  give  us  warmth,  and  light, 

Myra  to  kindle  love. 


TO 

MYRA. 


SiiccE  truth  and  constancy  are  vain. 
Since  neither  love,  nor  sense  of  pain. 
Nor  force  of  reason  can  persuade. 
Then  let  example  be  obey'd. 

In  courts  and  cities,  could  you  see 
How  well  the  wanton  fools  agree ; 
Were  all  the  curtains  drawn,  you'd  find 
Not  one,  perhaps,  but  who  is  kind. 

Minerva,  naked  from  above. 
With  Venus,  and  the  wife  of  Jove, 
Exposing  ev*ry  beauty  bare, 
D^cended  to  the  Trojan  heir ; 
Yet  this  was  she  whom  poets  name 
Goddess  of  Chastity  and  Fame.  * 

Penelope,  her  lord  away, 
Gave  am'rous  audiences  all  day  ; 
Now  round  the  bowl  th^  suitors  iH, 
With  wine,  provoking  mirth  and  wit. 
Then  down  they  take  the  stubborn  bow, 
Their  strength,  it  seems,  she  needs  must  know. 
Thus  twenty  cheerful  wihters  past. 
She  's  yet  immortalizVl  for  chaste. 

Smile  Myra,  then,  reward  my  flame, 
And  be  as  much  secure  of  feme ; 
By  all  those  matchless  beauties  fir'd. 
By  my  own  ovUchless  love  inipir'd ; 
So  wiU  I  sing,  such  wonders  write, 
That  when  th'  astonish'd  world  shall  cite 
A  nymph  of  spotless  worth  and  feme, 
Myra  shall  be  th'  immortal  i 


SONG  TQ  MYRA. 

FoaiAKXM  of  my  kindly  stars. 

Within  this  melancholy  grove 
I  waste  my  days  and  ni^ts  in  teaif» 

A  victim  to  ingiateful  Love. 
The  happy  still  untimely  end. 

Death  flies  from  grief,  or  why  should  I 
So  many  hours  in  nrrow  spend, 

Wishmg,  alas  1  in  vam  to  die  ? 
Ye  powers,  take  pity  of  my  p*in. 

This,  only  this  is  my  desire ; 
Ah  1  take  from  Myra  her  disdain, 

O  let  me  with  this  sigh  oqpire. 


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u 


LANSDOWNES  POEMS. 


TO 

MYRA. 


Wn«K  wilt  thou  break,  my  stnbbon  heart  i 

0  Death  !  how  slow  to  take  my  part ! 
Whatercr  I  parsae,  denies, 

Death,  Death  itself,  like  Myia,  files. 

'    II. 
Love  jand  Despair,  like  twins,  possest 
At  the  same  fatal  birth  my  breast ; 
No  hope  could  be,  her  scorn  was  all 
That  to  my  destin'd  lot  could  fell. 

III. 

1  thought,  alas  ?  that  Love  could  dwell 
But  in  warm  climes,  where  no  snow  fell ; 
Like  plants,  tliat  kindly  heat  requke, 
To  be  maintained  by  constant  fire : 

IV. 
That  without  hope,  twou*d  die  bs  soon, 
A  little  hope — but  I  have  none : 
On  air  the  poor  Camelions  thrive, 
Deny'd  e'en  that,  my  love  can  live, 

V. 

As  toughest  trees  in  storms  are  bred. 
And  grow  in  spite  of  winds,  and  spread 
The  more  the  tempest  tears  and  shakes 
My  love,  the  deeper  root  it  takes. 

VL 
Despair,  that  aconite  docs  prove, 
And  certain  death,  to  others*  love; 
That  poison,  never  yet  withstood, 
Does  nourish  mine,  and  turns  to  food. 

VIL 
O  !  for  what  crime  is  my  torn  heart 
Condemn  d  to  suffer  deathless  smart  ? 
Like  sad  Prometheus,  thus  to  \{e 
la  endless  pain,  and  never  die. 


PHYLUS  DRIKKING. 
L 

While  Phyllis  is  drmkmg,  love  and  wine  in  alli- 
ance, 
With  forces  united,  bid  resistless  defiance. 
By  the  touch  of  her  lips  the  wine  sparkles  higher. 
And  her  eyes,  by  her  drinking,  redouble  their  fire. 

IL 

Her  cheeks  glow  the  brighter,  recruiting  their 

colour. 
As  flowers  by  sprinkling  revive  with  fresh  odour; 
Each  dart  dipt   in  wine  gives  a  wound  borond 

curing. 
And  the  liquor,  like  oil,  make^  tha  flame  more 

enduring. 

Ul. 

Then  Phyllis,  beg?n,  let  <Mir  raptures  abound, 
Aud  a  kiss,  and  a  glass,  be  still  going  ftNmd, 
Relieving  each  other,  our  pleasures  ire  lasting,       I 
And  we  never  are  cloyed,  yet  «re  tver  a  tasting! 


MYRA. 


Psepar'd  to  rail,  resolved  to  part, 
When  I  approached  the  perjur'd^r. 

What  b  it  awes  my  timorous  heart  ? 
Why  does  my  tongue  forbear  ? 

n. 

With  the  least  glance,  a  little  kind, 
Such  wond*rous  pow*r  have  Myra's  charms^ 

Sh§  calms  my  doubts,  enslaves  my  mind. 
And  all  my  rage  disarms. 

in. 

Forgetful  of  her  broken  vows, 
AVhcn  gazing  on  that  form  divine. 

Her  injured  vassal  trembling  bows. 
Nor  dares  her  slave  repine. 


Mn 


THE  ENCJffANTMBNT. 

IN  IMrTATlON  or  THBOCftlTUS. 


iz,  mbc  the  philters,  quick— she  flies,  8h«  flies; 
Deaf  to  my  call,  regardless  of  my  cries. 
Are  VOWS  SO  vain?  could  oaths  so  feeble  prove  ? 
Ah  !  with  what  eatfe  she  breaks  those  chains  of  Lore ! 
Whom  Love  with  all  his  ferca  had  bound  in  vain. 
Let  charms  compel,  and  magic  rites  regain. 
Begin,  begin,  the  mystic  ^lls  prepare. 
Bring  Myra  back,  my  perjured  wanderer. 
Queen  of  the  night,  bright  empress  of  the  stai^ 
The  friend  of  Love,  assist  a  lover's  cares  | 
And  thou,  'nifemal  Hecate,  be  nigh, 
At  whose  approach  fierce  wolves  affirigl^  fly : 
Dark  tombs  disckse  their  dead,  and  ^Uow  crier 
Echo  from  under  gnmnd — Arise,  arise. 
B^n,  begin,  the  mystic  ^lls  prepare. 
Bring  Myra  back,  my  pegur»d  wanderer. 
As,  crackling  in  the  fire,  this  laurel  liee, 
3o,  struggling  in  love's  flame,  her  lover  dies ; 
It  bursts,  and  in  a  blaze  of  light  expires. 
So  may  she  bum,  but  with  more  lasting  fires. 
Begin,  begin,  the  mystic  spells  prepare. 
Bring  Myra  back,  my  pegur^d  wanderer. 
As  the  wax  melts,  which  to  the  flame  I  hoM, 
So  may  she  melt,  and  never  more  grow  cold. 
Tough  ir'n  wiH  jrieki,  and  stubborn  marble  ran; 
And  hardest  hearts  by  k>ve  are  melted  down. 
Begin,  begm,  the  mystic  spells  prepare. 
Bring  Myra  back,  my  peijur'd  wanderer. 
As  with  impetuous  motion  whirling  round, 
This  maigic  wheel  still  moves,  yet  keeps  its  ground. 
Ever  returning,  so  may  she  come  back, 
And  never  more  the  appointed  round  forsake. 
Be^n,  begin,  the  mystic  spells  prepare. 
Bring  Myra  back,  my  per|ur»d  wanderer. 
Diana,  hail !  all  hail !  most  welcome  thou, 
To  whom  th'  infernal  king  and  judges  bow ; 
O  thou,  whose  heart  the  power  of  Hen  disarms. 
Upon  a  faithless  woman  try  thy  charms. 
Hark !  the  dogs  howl,  she  comes,  the  goddess  oomes, 
Sound  the  loud  trump,  and  beat  our  brazen  drums. 
Begin,  begin,  the  m3rttie  spalls  prapare. 
Bring  Myra  back,^  my  pei^d  waaderer. 
How  calm  's  the  sky  1  how  QwUstufb'd  the  dec^l. 
Nature  is  husht,  the  very  tOBpRtfs  ele^  j 


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THE  ENCHANTMENT. 


SS 


The  drovff  wiacb  breafhe  gently  thro*  the  treei, 
And  sleat  od  the  beach,  repose  the  seas : 
Lore  only  wakes ;  the  stonn  that  tears  my  hreast 
For  ever  rages,  and  distracts  my  rest : 
OLove!  relentless  Lore !  tyrant  accurst. 
In  deserts  bred,  by  cruel  tigers  nurs'd ! 
Begin,'  begin,  the  mystic  ipells  prepare, 
Brnig  Myra  back,  my  p^ur'd  wanderer. 
This  ribbon,  that  once  bound'her  lovely  waist, 
0  that  my  arms  might  gird  her  there  as  £ist ! 
Smiling  ihe  gave  it,  and  I  pris'd  it  more 
Than  the  rich  zone  the  Idalian  goddess  wore : 
This  ribbon,  this  lov*d  relict  of  the  fiiir, 
So  kist,  and  so  preserv'd — thus — thus  I  tear. ' 

0  Lore  I  why  dost  thou  thus  delight  to  rend 

Uj  soul  with  pain  ?  Ah !  why  torment  thy  friend  ? 
Begin,  begin,  the  mystic  spells  prepare. 
Bring  Myia  back,  my  perjur'd  wanderer. 
Thrice  have  I  saccific*d,  and,  prostrate,  thrice 
Ador'd :  assist,  ye  powers,  the  sacrifice. 
Whse*er  be  is  whom  now  the  fair  beguiles 
With  guilty  glances,  and  wiUi  peijur'd  smiles^ 
MaUgnant  vapours  blast  his  impious  head. 
Ye  lightnings  scorch  him,  thunder  strike  him  dead; 
horror  oC  conscience  all  his  slumbers  break. 
Distract  his  rest,  as  love  keeps  me  awake ; 
If  married,  may  his  wife  an  Helen  be. 
And  coia'd,  and  scorned,  like  Menelans,  he. 
B^in,  begin,  the  mystic  spells  prepare, 
Brmg  Myra  back,  my  perjured  wanderer. 
These  powerful  drops,  thrice  on  the  threriiold  pour. 
And  batbep  with  this  enchanted  juice,  her  door. 
That  door  where  no  admittance  now  is  found. 
But  where  my  soul  is  ever  hovering  round. 
Haste,  and  obey ;  and  binding  be  the  spell : 
Here  ends  my  charm ;  O  Love !  succeed  it  wellt 
By  force  of  magic,  stop  the  fl3ring  fur, 
Brmg  Myra  badk,  my  peijur'd  wanderer. 
ThouVt  now  alone,  and  painful  is  restrahit. 
Ease  thy  prest  heart,  and  give  thy  sorrows  vent : 
Whence  sprang,  and  how  be^an  these  grieft,  declare ; 
How  nmcb  thy  love,  how  cruel  thy  despair. 
Ye  Moon  and  Stars,  by  whose  auspicious  light 

1  haunt  these  groves,  and  waste  the  tedious  night ! 
Tell,  for  you  know  the  burthen  of  my  heart. 
Its  kiUing  anguish,  and  its  secret  smart. 

Too  late  for  hope,  for  my  repose  too  soon 
I  saw,  and  kyv'd :  Her  heart  engaged,  was  gone ; 
A  happier  man  poswss'd  iriiom  I  adore ; 
O I  I  dioald  ne'er  have  seen,  or  seen  before. 
Tell,  for  yon  know  the  burthen  of  my  heart, 
Its  kiUing  anguish,  and  its  secret  smart 
What  shall  I  do  ?  SbaM  I  in  silence  bear, 
Dertniy  myself,  or  kill  the  ravi^ier } 
Die,  wretched  lover,  die;  but  O !  beware, 
Hurt  not  the  man  who  is  beloved  by  her ; 
Wait  for  a  better  hour,  and  trust  thy  Fate, 
Thou  seek*it  her  love,  beget  not  then  her  hate. 
Tell,  for  you  know  the  burthen  of  my  heart, 
Its^DlBi^  anguish,  and  its  secret  smart. 
My  life  consuming  with  eternal  grief, 
Tnm  beibs,  and  spells,  I  sed[  a  vain  relief; 
To  every  wise  magician  I  repah' 
In  vain,  ibr  stiU  I  love,  and  I  deq>air«  ' 
Grce,  Medea,  and  the  Sybils'  books, 
Contain  not  half  th'  enchantment  of  her  looks. 
Tell,  for  you  know  the  burthen  of  my  hotfty 
.  Jti  \S£aag  wnpurii,  and  its  secrst  smart 


As  melted  gold  preserves  its  weight  the  same. 
So  burnt  my  love,  nor  wasted  in  the  flame. 
And  now,  unable  to  support  the  strife, 
A  glimmering  hope  recalls  dqmrting  life : 
My  rival  dying,  I  no  longer  grieve, 
Since  I  may  ask,  and  she  with  honour  give. 
Tell,  for  you  know  the  burthen  of  my  heart. 
Its  killing  anguish,  and  its  secret  smart 
W^itness,  yt  Hours,  with  what  unwearied  care. 
From  place  to  place  I  still  punu'd  the  fair; 
Nor  was  occasion  to  reveal  my  flame. 
Slow  to 'toy  succour,  for  it  kindly  came, 
It  came,  it  came,  that  moment  of  deli^^ 
O  gods  !  and  how  I  trembled  at  the  sight ! 
Tell,  for  you  know  the  burthen  of  my  heart* 
Its  killing  anguish,  and  its  secret  smart 
Dismayed,  and  motionless,  confiis'd,  amaz'd. 
Trembling  I  stood,  and  terrify*d  I  gaz'd ; 
My  faultering  tongue  in  vam  for  utterance  try'd. 
Faint  was  my  voice,  my  thoughts  abortive  dy'd. 
Or  in  weak  sounds,  and  broken  accents  came. 
Imperfect,  as  discourses  in  a  dream. 
Tell,  for  you  know  the  burthen  of  my  heart. 
Its  killing  anguish,  and  its  secret  smart 
Soon  she  divin'd  what  this  confusion  meant. 
And  guessM  with  ease  the  cause  b(  my  complaint 
My  tongue  emboldening  as  her  looks  were  mild. 
At  length  I  told  my  griefe — and  still  she  smil'd. 
O  S3rren  !  Syren  ?  fair  dcluder,  say 
Why  would  you  tempt  to  'trust,  arai  then  betray  ? 
So  foithless  now,  why  gave  you  hopes  before  ? 
Alas !  you  should  have  been  less  kind,  or  more. 
Tell,  for  you  know  the  burthen  of  my  heart. 
Its  killing  anguish,  and  its  secret  smart 
Secure  of  innocence,  I  seek  to  know 
From  whence  this  change,  and  my  misfortunes  grow. 
Rumour  is  loud,  and  every  voice  proclaims 
Her  violated  faith,  and  conscious  flames : 
Can  this  be  true  ?  Ah  !  flattering  mischief  speak; 
Could  3^u  make  vows,  and  in  a  moment  break? 
And  can  the  space  so  very  narrow  be 
Betwixt  a  woman's  oath,  and  perjury  ? 

0  Jealousy !  all  other  ills  at  first 

My  love  essajr'd,  but  thou  art  sure  the  worst 
Tell,  for  you  know  the  burthen  of  my  heart. 
Its  killing  anguish,  and  its  secret  smart 
Ungrateful  Myra !  urge  me  thus  no  more. 
Nor  thmk  me  tame,  that  once  so  long  I  bore  ; 
If  passion,  dire  re>''enge,  or  black  despao'. 
Should  once  prevail  beyond  what  man  can  bear. 
Who  knows  what  I — ?  Ah  !  feeble  rage,  and  vain ! 
With  how  secure  a  brow  she  mocks  my  pain : 
Thy  heart,  fond  lover,  does  thy  threats  belie. 
Canst  thou  hurt  her,  for  whom  thou  yet  wouldst  die  ? 
Nor  durst  she  thus  thy  just  res^tment  brave. 
But  that  she  kuq^s  how  much  thy  soul 's  her  slave. 

But  see  !  Aurora,  rising  with  the  Sun, 
Dissolves  my  charm,  and  frees  th'  eiMihaxited  Moon  ; 
My  spells  no  longer  bind  at  sight  of  day. 
And  young  Endymion  calls  his  love  away : 
Love  '8  the  reward  of  all,  on  Earth,  in  Heaven, 
And  for  a  plague  to  me  alone  was  given : 
But  ills  not  to  be  shnnn'd,  we  must  endure. 
Death,  and  a  broken  heart  's  a  ready  cure. 
Cjmthia,  forewell,  go  rest  thy  wearied  light, 

1  must  for  ever  wak&^-We'li  meet  again  at  night 


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9S 


LANSDOWNE*S  POEMS. 


THE  VISION. 


and  music  *8  in  the 


In  lancly  walki,  distracted  by  despair, 
Shupning  mankind,  and  torn  with  killing  care, 
My  eyes  o'erflowing,  and  my  frantic  mind 
Racked  with  wild  tliOughts,  swelling  with  sighs  the- 

wind; 
Through  paths  untrodden,  day  and  night  I  rove. 
Mourning  the  fate  of  my  succejisless  love. 
Who  most  desire  to  live,  untimely  fidl. 
But  when  we  beg  to  die,  Death  flies  our  call  j 
Adonis  dies,  and  torn  is  the  lovM  breast 
In  midst  of  joy,  where  Vemis  wont  to  rest  j 
That  fate,  which  cruel  seem'd  to  him,  would  be 
Pity,  relief,  and  happ'mess  tx)  me. 
When  will  my  sorrows  end  ?  in  vain,  in  vain 
I  call  to  Heaven,  and  tell  the  gods  my  pain  j 
The  gods,  averse,  like  Myra,  to  my  prayer. 
Consent  to  doom,  whom  she  denies  to  spare. 
Why  do  I  seek  for  foreign  ipds,  when  I 
Bear  ready  by  my  side  the  power  to  die  ? 
Be  keen,  my  sword,  and  serve  thy  master  well, 
Hal  wounds  with  wounds,  and  love  with  death 

repel. 
Straight  up  I  rose,  and  to  my  aking  breast. 
My  bosom  bare,  the  ready  point  I  prest ; 
When  lo  !  astonigh*d,  an  unusual  light 
Pierc'd  the  thick  shade,  and  all  around  grew  bright; 
-My  dazzled  eyes  a  radiant  form  behold. 
Splendid  wjth  light,  Uke  beams  of  burning  gold  ; 
£temat  ra3rs  his  shining  temples  grace ; 
Eternal  youth  sat  blooming  on  his  face. 
Tremblmg  I  listen,  prostrate  on  the  ground, 
Hb  breath  perfumes  the  grove,  and  music  *a 
sound  *. 
•*  Cease,  k)vcr,  cease,  thy  tender  heart  to  vex. 
In  fruitless  plaints  of  an  ungrateful  sex. 
In  Fate*8  eternal  volumes  it  is  wiit, 
That  women  ever  shall  be  foes  to  wit. 
With  proper  arts  their  sickly  minds  command. 
And  please  *em  with  the  things  they  understand  ; 
With  noisy  fopperies  their  hearts  assail. 
Renounce  all  sense;  how  should  thy  songs  prevail. 
When  I,  the  god  of  wit,  so  oft  could  foil  ? 
Remember  me,  and  in  my  story  find 
How  vainly  merit  pleads  to  womankind : 
I,  by  whom  all  things  shine,  who  tune  the  spheres, 
Create  the  day,  and  gild  the  night  with  stars ; 
Whose  youUi  and  beauty,  from  all  ages  past, 
Sprang  with  the  world,  and  with  the  world  shall  last 
How  oft  with  fruitless  tears  have  1  implor'd 
Dngratefiil  nymphs,  and  though  a  god,  adorM  ? 
When  could  my  wit,  my  beauty,  or  my  youth. 
More  a  hard  heart  ?  or,  mov'd,  secure  its  truth  ? 
"  Here  a  proud  nymph,with  painful  steps  I  chase, 
The  wuids  out-flying  in  our  nimble  race ; 
Stay,  Daphne,  stay.— In  vain,  in  vain  I  try 
To  stop  her  speed,  redoubling  at  my  cry. 
O'er  craggy  rocks,  and  rugged  hills  she  climbs, 
And  tears  on  pointed  flints  her  tender  limbs  : 
TUl  caught  at  length,  just  as  my  arms  I  fold, 
Tum*d  to  a  tree  she  yet  escapes  my  hol'd. 

««  In  my  next  love,  a  difi'*rent  fate  I  find, 
Ah !  which  if  wone,  the  false,  or  the  unkind  ? 

1  Apollo. 


Forgetting  Daphne,  I  Coronb  «  cho», 

A  kinder  nymph — ^too  kind  for  my  repose  s 

The  joys  I  give,  but  more  provoke  her  breaal. 

She  keeps  a  private  dmdge  to  quench  tiie  rrtt  j 

How,  and  with  whom,  the  very  birds  proclahi^ 

Her  black  pollution,  and  reveal  my  shame. 

Hard  lot  of  beauty!  fatally  be«tow»d. 

Or  given  to  the  false,  or  to  the  proud ; 

By  different  ways  they  bring  us  emial  pain. 

The  false  betray  us,  and  the  proud  disdain. 

Scom'd  and  abusM,  from  mortal  loves  1  fly,  ^ 

To  seek  more  truth  in  my  own  native  sky. 

Venus,  the  fairest  of  immortal  loves. 

Bright  as  my  beams,  and  gentle  as  her  dov<(S, 

With  glowing  eyes,  oonfesnng  warm  desires. 

She  summons  Heaven  and  Earth  to  quench  her  fires* 

Me  she  excludes ;  and  I  in  vain  adore. 

Who  neither  god  nor  roan  refus'd  befors; 

Vulcan,  the  very  monster  of  the  dries, 

Vulcan  she  takes,  the  god  of  wit  denies. 

**  Then  cease  to  murmtH'  at  thy  Mjrra's  pridCji 
Whimsy,  not  Reason,  is  the  female  guide ; 
The  fate,  of  which  thehr  master  does  oocnplmin. 
Is  of  bad  omen  to  th'  insph^  train. 
What  vows  have  faird?  Haik  how  Catullus  mowns. 
How  Ovid  weeps,  and  slighted  Oallus  bums ; 
In  melting  strains  see  gentle  Waller  bleed, 
l'nmov»d  she  beard,  what  none  unmov*d  «an  read. 
And  thou,  who  oft  with  such  ambitious  choice. 
Hast  rais»d  to  Myra  thy  aspiring  voice. 
What  profit  thy  neglected  aseal  repays  ? 
Ah  what  return?  Ungrateful  to  thy  praise  ? 

"  Change,  change  thy  style,  with  mortal  rage  re- 
Unjust  disdain,  and  pride  oppose  to  scorn ;      [turn 
Search  all  the  secrets  of  the  fair  and  ycmng. 
And  then  proclaim,  soon  shall  they  bribe  thy  tongue^ 
The  sharp  detractor  with  success  assails. 
Sure  to  be  gentle  to  the  man  that  rails ; 
Women,  like  cowards,  tame  to  the  severe. 
Are  only  fierce  when  they  discover  (ear.** 

Thus  spake  the  god ;  and  upward  mounts  in  arr. 
In  just  resentment  of  his  past  despair. 
Provoked  to  Vengeance,  to  my  aid  I  caM 
The  Furies  round,  and  dip  my  pen  m  gaR : 
Not  one  shall  *soape  of  all  the  cocenmg  sex, 
Vex'd  shall  they  be,  who  so  delight  to  vex. 
In  vain  1  try,  in  vain  to  vengeance  move 
My  gentle  Mtise,  so  us'd  to  tender  love ;    ■ 
Such  magic  rules  my  heart,  whatever  I  write 
Turns  all  to  soft  complaint,  and  amoroos  flight. 
"  Begone,  food  thoughts,  begone,  be  bold,"  said  I, 
"  Satire  's  thy  theme**— In  vain  agaro  I  tiy. 
So  charmmg  M3rre  to  each  sense  appears, 
My  soul  adores,  my  rage  dissolves  in  tears. 

So  the  gall'd  lion,  smarting  with  h»  wound. 
Threatens  his  foes,  and  makes  the  forest  soand. 
With  his  strong  teeth-  he  bites  tiie  bloody  dart, 
And  teare  his  side  with  more  provpkmg  smart. 
Till,  having  spent  his  voice  in  firuiiless  cries, 
He  lays  him  down,  breaks  his  prood  heart,  and  dies. 


ADIEU  VAMOVR. 
Herb  end  my  chains,  and  thraldom  cease, 
If  not  in  joy,  Y\\  live  at  least  m  peace  5 

s  A  nymph  beloved  by  Apollo,  but  at  the  same 
time  had  a  private  mtrigue  with  ooe  Isctus,  whith 
was  djscorend  by  a  Crow. 


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LOVE  •..ESSAY. 


9Siice  for  the  pleasures  of  an  hoar. 
We  must  endure  an  age  of 'pain, 

VU  be  dui  abject  thing  no  more, 
Jjowt,  ghre  me  back  my  heart  agam. 
DesgeiiT  tormented  first  my  breast. 
Now  Falsehood,  a  more  cruel  guest; 
O  !  for  the  peace  of  humankind,  • 

Make  %oinen  longer  true,  or  sooner  Und  ; 
With  jostioe,  or  with  mercy  reign, 

OJLove?  or  give  me  back  my  heart  agam. 


To  lore,  is  to  be  doom'd  on  Earth  to  feel 
What  after  death  the  tortur'd  meet  tp  Hell : 
The  vulture  dipping  io  Prometheus'  side 
His  bloody  beak,  with  his  torn  Kyer  dy'd. 
Is  Love.     The  stone  that  labours  up  the  hill, 
MockiQg  the  labourer's  toil  retunaing  still,  ^ 

Is  Love.    Those  streams  where  tantali^  is  ciirst 
To  ait,  and  never  drink,  with  endless  thirst : 
Those  ioaden  boughs  that  with  their  burthen  bend 
To  court  his  taste,  and  yet  escape  his  hand. 
All  this  is  Love,  that  to  dissembled  joys 
Invites  vain  men,  with  real  grief  d^Aroys, 


MEDITATION  OK  DEATH, 
L 
EvovcH,  enough,  my  Soul,  of  worldly  noise ; 

Of  aery  pomps,  and  fleeting  joys ; 
What  does  this  busy  vorld  provide  at  best. 

But  brittle  goods  that  break  like  glass. 
Bat  poison'd  sweets,  a  troubled  feast. 
And  pleasures  like  the  winds,  that  in  a  moment  pass  ? 
/Thy  thoughts  to  nobler  meditations  give,\    . 
\jfcid  study  how  to  die,  not  how  to  liv^,^   ' 
IL 
How  frail  is  beauty  ?  Ah  !  how  vain. 

And  how  short-liv*d  those  glories  are, 
That  vex  our  nights  and  days  with  pam. 

And  break  our  hearts  with  care  ! 
In  dust  we  no  distinction  see, 
Sodk  Helen  is,  such,  Myra,  thou  mtet  be. 

IIL 
How  short  if  life  ?  why  wiO  vaiif  oonitieis  toil. 
And  crowd  a  vainer  monarch,  for  a  sraik  ? 
What  is  that  monarch,  but  a  mortal  man, 
His  crown  a  pageant,  and  his  life  a  span  ? 
Whh  a41  his  guards  and  his  dominions,  he 
Must  sicken  too,  and  die  as  well  as  we. 

IV. 
Those  boasted  names  of  conquerors  and  kings 
Are  svallow'd  and  become  forgotten  things : 
One  destitt'd  period  men  in  common  have, 
The  great,  the  base,  the  coward,  and  the  brave, 
AO  ibod  aUke  for  worms,  companions  in  the  grave. 
The  prnice  and  parasite  tog^er  lie, 
^FkatuQe  can  exalt,  bt^  Death  will  climb  as  high. 


ESSAY 

VfOn  pNMATOEAL  FtlCBTS  IN  POBTKT. 

At  when  some  image  of  a  charmmg  fooe 
la  liring  pamt,  an  artist  triei  to  trace. 


n 


He  carefully  consults  each  beauteous  line. 

Adjusting  to  his  object,  his  design. 

We  praise  the  piece,  and  give  the  painter  feme. 

But  as  the  just  resemblauce  speaks  the  dame. 

Poets,  are  limners  of  another  kind. 

To  copy  out  ideas  in  the  mhid ; 

Words  are  the  paint  by  which  their  thoughts  are 

And  Nature  sits,  the  object  to  be  drawn ;     [shown. 

The  written  picture  we  applaud,  or  blame. 

But  as  the  due  proportions  are  the  same. 

Who  driven  with  ungovernable  fire. 
Or  void  of  art,  beyond  these  bounds  aspire. 
Gigantic  forms,  and  monstrous  births  alone 
Produce,  which  Nature,  shock'd,  disdains  to  own. 
By  true  reflexion  I  would  see  my  fiice. 
Why  brings  the  fool  a  magnifymg  glass  ? 
faj  "  But  Poetry  in  fiction  takes  delight. 
And  mounthuBf  in  bold  figinres  out  of  sight. 
Leaves  Truth  behind,  in  her  audacious  flight: 
FaWes  and  metophors,  that  always  lie. 
And  rash  hyperboles  tiiat  soar  so  high. 
And  every  ornament  of  verse  must  die.*' 
Mistake  me  not:  no  figures  I  exclude. 
And  but  forbid  intemperance,  not  food. 
Who  would  with  care  some  happy  fiction  frame. 
So  municks  Truth,  it  looks  the  very  same ; 
Not  rais'd  to  force,  or  feignM  in  Nature's  scorn. 
But  meant  to  grace,  illustrate,  and  adorn. 
Important  truths  still  let  your  febles  hold. 
And  moral  mysteries  with  art  unfold. 
Ladies  and  beaux  to  please,  is  all  the  task. 
But  the  sharp  critic  will  instruction  ask. 

fbj  M  veils  transparent'cover,  but  not  hidc^ 
Such  metaphors  appear  when  right  aj^ly'd ; 
When  thro'  the  phrase  we  plamly  see  the  sense, 
Troth,  where  the  meaning's  obvious,  will  dispense  ^ 
The  reader  what  in  reason  's  due,  believes. 
Nor  can  we  call  that  felse,  which  not  deceives. 

fcj  Hyperboles,  so  darfaig  and  so  bold. 
Disdaining  bounds,  are  yet  fy  rules  control'd 
Above  the  clouds,  but  still  within  our  sight. 
They  mount  with  Truth,  and  make  a  tow»ring  flight. 
Presenting  things  impossible  to  view. 
They  wander  thro*  incredible  to  true : 
Falsehoods  thus  mix'd,  like  metals  are  refin'd. 
And  truth,  like  silver,  leaves  the  dross  behmd. 

Thus  Poetry  has  ample  space  to  soar. 
Nor  needs  forbidden  regions  to  explore : 
^h  vaunts  as  his,  who  can  with  patience  read. 
Who  thus  describes  his  hero  slain  and  dead  : 
(dj  *«  Kill'd  as  he  was  1,  insensible  of  death. 

He  still  fights  on,  and  scorns  to  yield  fiis  breath.'* 
The  noisy  cnlverin,  o'erchai^'d,  lets  fly, 
And  bursts  unahning  in  the  rended  sky : 
Such  frantic  flights  are  like  a  madman's  dieam. 
And  Nature  suflers  hi  the  wild  extreme. 

The  <»ptive  OEUiibal  weigh'd  down  with  chains. 
Yet  braves  his  foes,  reviles,  provokes,  disdains. 
Of  nature  fierce,  untameable,  and  proud^ 
He  grins  defiance  at  the  gaping  crowd. 
And  tpeat  at  last,  and  speechless  as  he  lies. 
With  kwks  still  threatning,  mocks  their  rage  and 
This  IS  the  utmost  stretch  that  Nature  can,    [dies  • 
And  all  beyond  is  fulsome,  false,  and  vam. 

Qeaoty's  the  theme;  some  nymph  divinely  fair 
Excitttthc  Muse :  let  truth  be  ^ven  there : 
As  painters  flatter,  so  may  poets  too. 
But  to  resemblance  must  be  ever  true. 
'  Ariofto. 


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» 


LANSDOWNE'S  POEMS. 


(e)  *<  The  1  day  thtt  ihe  w»  born,  tbe  Cypniin 
queen 
Had  like  tluLve  dy 'd  tkro*  envy  and  thro'  ipleen ; 
The  Graces  in  a  hurry  left  the  skies 
To  have  the  honour  to  attend  her  eyes ; 
And  Love,.  destMurmp  in  her  heart  a  place. 
Would  needs  take  np  his  lodgtnj^  in  her  face." 
Tbo'  wrote  by  great  CornelUe,  soch  lines  as  these^ 
Such  civil  nonsense  sure  couU  never  please. 
Waller,  the  be^  uf  all  th'  impir'd  train. 
To  melt  the  £ur,  instructs  the  dymg  swain. 

(f)  The  RoiDan  wit  '^,  who  impiously  divides 
His  hero  and  hn  godk  to  diif'rent  sides, 

I  would  condemn,  but  that,  in  spite  of  sense, 
Th'  admiring  world  still  stands  in  his  defimce. 
How  oft,  abs !  the  best  of  men  in  vain 
Contend  for  btessings  which  the  worst  obtain ! 
The  gods,  permitting  traitors  to  succeed. 
Become  not  parties  in  an  impious  deed  : 
And  by  the  tyrant's  mnrder,  we  may  find 
That  Cato  and  the  gods  were  of  a  mind. 

Thus  forcing  truth  with  such  ppepostVous  praise, 
Our  characters  we  lessen;  when  weM  raise : 
Like  castles  buik  by  magic  ait  m  air, 
TVt  vanish  at  approach,  soch  thoughts  appear^ 
But  rais'd  on  truth,  by  some  judicious  hand. 
As  on  a  rock  they  shall  for  ages  stand. 

(g)  Our  King  ^  returned,  and  banished  peace  re- 
The  Muse  ran  mad  to  see  her  exil'd  lord  j    [stor»d. 
On  the  crack'd  stage  the  bedlam  heroes  roar'd, 
And  sarce  could  speak  one  reasonable  wonl$ 
Bryden  himself,  to  please  a  ftantic  age. 

Was  forced  to  let  his  judgment  8to<^  to  rage. 
To  a  wild  audience  he  conformed  his  voice, 
Comply 'd  to  custom,  but  not  err'd  by  chotoe: 
Deem  then  the  peopled,  not  the  writer's  sin, 
Alroansor's  rage,  and  rants  of  Maximin ; 
That  fury  spent  in  each  elaboraCte  piece. 
He  vies  for  feme  with  ancient  Rome  and  Greece. 

First  Mulgrave*  rose,    Roscommon  next,  like 
light. 
To  ckar  our  darkness,  and  to  guide  our  Oight ; 
With  steady  judgment,  and  in  lofty  sounds, 
They  gave  us  patterns,  and  they  set  us  bounds ; 
The  Stagirite  and  Horace  laid  aside, 
Infonn'd  by  them,  we  need  no  foreign  guide : 
Who  seek  from  poetry  a  lasting  name. 
May  hi  their  lessons  lean  the  road  to  feme : 
But  let  the  bold  adventurer  be  sure 
That  every  line  the  test  of  truth  endure  ^ 
On  this  foundation  may  the  febrio  rise, 
Tirm  and  unshaken,  till  it  touch  the  skies. 

Rom  pulpits  banish'd,  from  the  court,  from  lore, 
Forsaken  Truth  seeks  sheker  m  the  grove ; 
Cheri^,  ye  Muses !  the  neglected  feir, 
A»wi  take  into  your  train  th'  abanilon*d  wanderer. 


EXPLAlfATORY  ANNOTATIONS 

ON  TBI 

FOREGOING  POEM. 

fa)  The  poetic  world  is  nothmg  bot  fiction ;  Par- 
Bassu$,  P^asus,  and  the  Muses,  pure  imagination 

iComeiHe'^        ^Locan.        3  Khig  Charlies  IL 
♦Earl  of  Mulgrave's  Essay  upon  Poetry 5  and 
Lord  Roscommon's  upon  translated  Verse. 


and  chinuera :  but  being  howavar  «  sjffttm  i 
sally  agreed  on,  all  that  has  or  OMy  be  costixied  or 
invented  upon  this  foundation,  acoordiog  tawrtiBe, 
shall  be  reputed  as  truth;  but  whataoeviar  liiall 
diminish  from,  or  exceed  the  just  pioportioas  of 
nature,  shall  be  rejected  as  felse,  and  pass  for  ex- 
travagance ;  as  dwarfe  and  giants,  for  monsters, 

(bj  \^lK!n  Homar,  mentioning  AcbiUaf>  tanvs 
him  a  lion,  this  is  a  metaphor*  and  the  meaoiBg  is 
obvious  axid  true,  though  the  literal  sense  bo  fiUst, 
the  poet  intenduig  thereby  to  give  his  reader  some 
ideaof  the  strength  and  fortitnde  of  his  hero.  Had 
he  said,  that  wolf,  or  that  bear,  this  had  been  felse, 
by  presenting  an  image  not  conformable  to  the  na- 
ture and  character  of  a  hero,  &c. 

(cj  Hyperboles  are  of  diverse  sorts,  and  the 
manner  of  introducing  them  is  different :  seme  arc 
as  it  wero  naturalized  and  established  by  a  custo- 
mary way  of  expression ;  as  when  we  say,  such  a 
one  is  as  swift  as  the  wind,  whiter  than  snow,  or  the 
like.  Homer,  speakmg  of  Nereus,  calls  him  beauty 
itsel£  Martial,  of  Zoilus,  lewdness  itself.  Soth 
hyperboles  lie  indeed,  but  deceive  ns  not;  and 
therefore  Seneca  terms  them  Kes  that  remSty  con- 
duct our  imagination  to  truths,  and  have  an  intel- 
ligible signification,  though  the  expression  be 
strained  beyond  credibility.  Custom  has  likewise 
femilarisod  another  way  for  hyperboles,  for  exam- 
ple, by  irony  f  as  when  we  say  of  some  infemous 
woman,  she's  a  civil  person,  where  the  meaning  is 
to  be  Uken  quite  opposite  to  the  latter.  These  few 
figurn  are  mentioned  only  for  example  sake ;  it 
will  be  understood  tfiat  all  others  are  to  be  1:^ 
with  the  like  care  and  discretion. 

(dj  I  needed  not  to  have  travelled  so  far  for  an 
extravagant  flight;    I  remember   one  of  Briti^ 
growth  of  the  like  nature : 
See  those  dead  bodies  hence  convey'd  with  care, 
life  may  perhaps  return— with  change  of  air. 

But  I  choose  rather  to  correct  gently,  by  foreiga 
examples,  hoping  that  such  as  are  conscious  of  the 
hke  excesses  will  take  the  hint,  and  secretly  reprove 
themselves.  It  may  be  possible  for  some  tempeis 
to  maintain  rage  and  indignation  to  the  last  gasp , 
but  the  soul  axid  body  once  parted,  there  mnst  ne- 
cessarily be  a  determination  of  action. 
QOttdonnqne  ostendis  mihi  sic  incredulua  odL 
I  cannot  forbear  quoting  on  this  occasioii,  as  an 
example  for  the  present  purpose,  two  noUe  Inics  of 
Jasper  Main**,  in  the  collection  of  the  Oxftifd  Vciscs 
imnted  hi  the  year  1643,  upon  the  death  of  my 
grandiiBither,  sir  Bevil  Oran^nlle,  dam  in  the  heat  <^ 
action  at  the  battle  of  Laasdowne.  The  poet,  after 
having  described  the  fight,  the  sohiiers  animi^by 
the  example  of  their  lender,  and  enraged  at  his 
death  tbns  concludes : 

Thus  he  being  slain,  his  iiction  fought  anew. 
And  the  dead  conq;uer'd,  whilst  the  living  slew. 

This  is  agreeable  to  truth,  and  withm  fSht  v,,^,. 
of  nature :  it  is  thus  only  that  the  dead  can  act 

(e)  liejourqu'ellaniquitv  Venus  bienqn'imffior^ 

telle, 
Pensa  mourir  de  honte,  en  la  voyant  si  bdle, 
Les  Graces  a  Penvi  desoeiidireni  det  cieax 
Pour  avoir  rhoBtur  d^aocoo^agiier  ses  yeiB» 


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AWS0TATI0N8. 


t9 


fit  rAmoar,  qui  ne  pikt  efltrer  dans  son  courage, 
Veuhxt  oMiiuhneBt  loger  sur  sob  visas^e. 
TOi  is  a  lover's  tooriplioii  of  his  wattwm,  by  tiie 
frest  Corneille ;  eml,  U  tie  aire,  luad  polite  as  any 
tiinscanlpe.   Letany  body  turn  ov«r  Waller,  and 
be  will  see  how  much  more  naturaUy  and  delioately 
the  &2glish  anthor  treats  the  article  of  love,  than 
this  celebrated  Frenchman.    I  would  notj  however, 
be  thought  by  any  derogatory  ({uotation  to  take 
fivm  the  merit  of  a  writer,  whose  reputation  is  so 
QiMversally  and  so  justly  establishad  in  all  aattons; 
but  as  I  said  before,  I  mther  choose,  where  any 
fulB^  ac%i  toba  found,  to  oonect  my  own  ceuntry- 
men  by  foreign  examples,  than  to  provoke  them  by 
iastances  drawn  from  their  otenvritinjcs.  Humanum 
fiterrare.     I  cannot  forbear  one  quotation  more 
from  another  celebrated  French  author.     It  is  an 
epigram  upon  a  monument  for  Francis  I.  long  of 
Fruce,  by  way  of  qncstioD  and  answer,  which  in 
English  is  verbatim  thus : 
Under  this  marUe,  who  lies  buried  here  ? 
Francis  the  Great,  a  king  beyond  coifapare. 
Why  has  so  great  a  k^ng  so  small  a  stone  ? 
Of  that  great  king  here's  but  the  heart  alone. 
Then  of  this  conqueror  here  lies  but  part  ? 
Mo — here  he  lies  a//— for  he  was  all  heart. 
The  author  ipras  a  Gascon,  to  whom  I  can  properly 
appose  nobody  so  well  as  a  Welchman,  for  which 
purpose  I  am  farther  furnished  from  the  foremen- 
tioned  collection  of  Oxford  Venes,  with  an  epigram 
I7  Martin  LluelUn  upon  the  same  sutyect,  which  I 
remember  to  have  hc»ird  often  rq;>e8ted  to  me  when 
I  was  a  boy.     Besides,  from  whence  can  we  draw 
better  examples  than  from  the  very  seat  and  nursery 
«f  the  Muses? 
Thus  datn,  thy  valiant- ancestor  >  did  lie, 
When  his  one  bark  a  navy  did  defy ; 
When  nofw  encompassed  round,  he  victor  stood. 
And  bath'd  his  pinnace  in  his  conquering  blood, 
TiU,  all  the  purple  current  dry^d  and  spent, 
He  fm,  and  made  the  waves  his  monument. 
Where  shall  the  next  famM  Granville's  ashes 

stand? 
Thy  grandsre's  fills  the  sea,  and  thine  the  land^ 
I  cannot  say  the  two  last  lines,  in  which  consists  the 
sting  or  point  of  the  epigram,  are  strictly  conform- 
able to  the  rule  herein  set  down :  the  word  ashes, 
metaphorically,  can  signify  nothing  bwt  fame ;  which 
is  mere  sound,  and  can  fill  no  space  cither  of  land 
or  sea:  the  Welchman,  however,  must  be  aJloAed 
to  have  out-done  the  Gascon.  The  follacy  of  the 
French  epigram  appears  at  first  sight  j  but  the 
English  strikes  the  nmcy,  suspends  and  dazzles  the 
ju4gment,  and  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  pass 
under  the  shelter  of  those  daring  hyperboles,  which, 
by  presenting  an  obvious  meaning,  make  thek  way, 
according  to  Seneca,  through  the  incredible  to  true. 

ff)  Victrix  causa  Deis  ptacuit,  sed  victa  Catoni. 
The  conseat  of  sotnany  siges  having  established  the 
reputatkm  of  this  line,  it  may  perhaps  be  presump- 
tion to  attack  it;  butitisnottobe  supposed  that 

1  Sir  HJchard  Granvitte,  nce-«dmtra1  of  Eng- 
land, fai  the  reign  of  queen  Elisabeth,  maintained 
a  fight  with  his  nngle  ship  against  the  whole  Ar- 
mada  of  Spam,  conastipg  of  fif^-three  of  their  best 

■en  of  wan 


Cato,  who  is  described  to  have  been  a  man  of  rigid 
monds  and  strict  devotion,  more  resendiling  the 
gods  than  men,  would  have  chosen  any  party  m 
opposition  to  those  gods,  whom  he  professed  to 
adore.  The  poet  would  give  us  to  understand,  that 
his  hero  was  too  righteous  a  person  to  accompany 
the  divinities  themsely^  in  an  unjust  cause ;  but  to 
represent  a  mortal  man  to  be  either  wiser  or  juster 
than  the  Deity,  may  show  the  impiety  of  the  writer, 
but  add  nothing  to  the  merit  of  the  hero ;  neither 
reason  nor  religion  wMl  allow  it,  and  it  is  impos- 
sible for  a  corrupt  being  to  be  more  excellent  than 
a  divine :  success  implies  permission,  and  not  ap- 
probation }  to  place  the  gods  always  on  the  thriv- 
ing  siile,  is  to  make  them  partakers  of  all  successful 
wickedness:  to  judge  right,  we  must  wait  for  the 
conclusion  of  the  action ;  the  catastrophe  will  best 
decide  on  which 'Aide  is  Providenoe,  and  the  violent 
death  of  Cesar  acquits  the  gods  from  being  com* 
panions  of  his  usurpation. 

Lucan  was  a  determined  republican;  no  wonder 
he  was  a  free-thinker. 

(g)  Mr.  Dryden,  in  one  of  his  prolognes,  has 
these  two  lines : 

He's  bound  to  please,  not  to  write  wdl,  and  knowi 
There  is  a  mode  m  plays,  as  well  as  clothes. 
From  whence  it  is  plain  where  he  has  exposed  him* 
self  to  the  critics;  he  was  forced  to  follow  the 
fashion  to  humour  an  audience,  and  not  to  please 
himself.  A  hard  sacrifice  to  make  for  present  subsist* 
ence,  especially  for  such  as  would  have  thehr  writings 
live  as  well  as  themselves.  Nor  can  the  poet  whose 
labours  are  his  daily  bread,  be  delivered  from  this 
cruel  necessity,  unless  some  more  certam  encourage- 
ment can  be  provided  than  the  bare  uncertain  proAla 
of  a  third  day,  and  the  theatre  be  put  under  some 
more  impartial  management  than  the  jurisdiction 
of  players.  Who  write  to  live,  must  unavoidably 
comply  with  their  taste  by  whose  approbation  they 
subsist ;  some  generous  prince,  or  prime  minister 
like  Richlieu,  can  only  find  a  remedy.  In  his 
Epistle  Dedicatory  to  the  Spanish  Friar,  this  in- 
comparable poet  thus  censures  himself: 

"  I  remember  some  verses  of  my  own,  A^ximm 
and  Almanzor,  which  cry  vengeance  upon  me  for 
their  extravagance,  4cc.  All  I  can  say  for  those 
passages,  which  are  I  hope  not  many,  is,  that  I 
knew  they  were  bad  enough  to  please,  even  when  I 
wrote  them ;  but  I  repent  of  them  among  my  sms: 
and  if  any  of  their  fellows  intrude  by  chance  into 
my  present  writings,  I  draw  a  stroke  over  these 
Dalilahs  of  the  theatre,  and  am  resolved  I  will 
settle  myself  no  reputation  by  the  applause  of 
fools :  *tis  not  that  I  am  mortified  to  all  amlytion^ 
but  I  scorn  as  much  to  take  it  from  half-witted 
judges,  as  I  should  to  raise  an  estate  by  cheating 
of  bubbles:  neither  do  I  discommend  the  lofty 
style  in  tragedy,  which  is  pompous  and  magnifi- 
cent ;  but  nothing  is  truly  niblime^  that  is  not  just 
and  proper." 

This  may  stand  as  an  unanswerable  apology  for 
Mr.  Dryden,  agahist  his  critics ;  and  likewise  for 
an  unquestionable  authority  to  confirm  those  prin* 
ciples  which  the  foregomtr  poem  pretends  to  lay 
down,  for  nothing  can  be  just  and  proper  but  what 
is  built  upon  tmtlu 


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30 


LANSDOWNE'S  POENfS. 


EPIGRAMS  ASD  CHARACTERS,  d^a 

IKSCftlFnOH  FOR  A  FIGUKK  mEPKBlKKnNO  TBI 
GOD  OF   LOVE. 

Whob'sr  thou  art,  thy  lord  and  master  see. 
Thou  wast  my  slave,  thou  art^  or  thou  shalt  be. 


y 


DBFIMITIOM  OF  LOTS. 


Love  is  begot  by  Fancy;  bred 
By  Ignorance,  by  Expectation  fed, 
Destroyed  by  Knowledge,  and,  at  best. 
Lost  in  the  moment  tis  possessed. 


Women  to  cards  may  be  compared;  we  play 
A  round  or  two,  when  us*d  we  throw  away, 
Take  a  fresh  pack  ;  nor  is  it  worth  our  giiering^ 
Who  cuts  or  shuffles  with  our  diity  leaving. 

TUB  BELIEF. 

Of  two  reliefe  to  ease  a  love-sick  mind, 
Flavia  prescribes  deq>air ;  I  urge,  be  kind : 
Flavia,  be  kind,  the  remedy  's  as  sure, 
Tis  tlve  most  pleitBant,  and  the  quickest  cure. 

SBNT  TO  CLABIKi>A   WrTH  A  NOVEL,   ENTITLED, 
LBS  MALHEUBS  DE  L*AMOUB. 

Haste  to  Oarinda,  and  reveal 
Whatever  pains  poor  lovers  feel ; 
When  that  is  done,  then  tell  the  fair 
That  1  endure  much  more  for  her : 
WhoM  truly  know  Love's  power  or  smart. 
Must  view  her  eyes,  and  read  my  heart. 

WBriTEM  IN  BEB  PBAYBB-BOOK. 

In  vain,  Clarinda,  night  and  day 
For  pity  to  the  gods  you  pray ;  / 

What  arrogance  on  Heav'n  to  call 
For  that  which  you  deny  to  all ! 

SONG   TO  THE   SAME. 

I 

In  vain  a  thousand  slaves  have  try'd 
To  overcome  Clarinda*s  pride : 

Pity  pleading. 

Love  persuading, 
When  her  icy  heart  is  thaw'd. 
Honour  chides,  and  straight  she*s  aw'd. 

Foolish  creature, 

Follow  Nature, 
Wast^  not  thus  your  prime  ; 

Youth  's  a  treasure. 

Love  *s  a  pleasure. 
Both  destroyed  by  Time. 

OK  Ttfk  SAMB. 

Clarinda,  with  a  haughty  grace. 
In  scornful  postures  sets  her  fiice. 
And  looks  as  she  were  bom  alone 
-  To  give  ns  love,  and  take  finom  none. 
Tho'^  I  adore  to  that  degree, 
Clarinda,  I  would  die  for  thee. 
If  you're  too  proud  to  ease  my  pain, 
1  am  too  proud  for  your  disdain. 


HBI  VAMB. 


Guess,  and  I'll  frankly  own  her  name 
Whose  eyes  have  kindled  such  a  flame  ; 
The  %Miltan  or  the  Cyprian  queen 
Had  ne'er  been  sung,  had  die  been  seen. 
Who  set  the  very  gods  at  war. 
Were  but  feint  images  of  her. 
Believe  me,  for  by  Heav'ns  tis  true ! 
The  Sun  in  all  his  ample  view 
Sees  nothing  half  so  feir  or  bright. 
Not  even  his  own  reflected  light 
So  sweet  a  fece  !  such  graceful  mien  f ' 
Who  can  this  be  ?«— 'TIS  Uowabo— or  Ballbbmv. 


CLEORA. 

Cleoba  has  her  wish,  she  weds  a  peer. 
Her  weighty  train  two  pages  scarce  can  bear  j 
Persia,  and  both  the  Indies  must  provide. 
To  grace  her  pomp,  and  gratify  her  pride; 
Of  rich  brocade  a  shming  robe  she  wears. 
And  gems  surround  her  lovely  neck,  like  stars  ; 
Drawn  by  she  greys,  of  the  proud  Belgian  khid. 
With  a  long  tram  of  litery  beaux  belund. 
She  charms  the  park,  and  sets  all  hearts  on  fii«. 
The  lady's  envy,  and  the  men's  deaie 
Beholding  thus,  **  O  happy  as  a  queen !" 
Wecryj  but  shift  the  gaudy  flattering  scene  ; 
View  her  at  home,  in  her  domestic  hj^t ; 
For  thither  she  must  come,  at  least  at  night: 
What  has  she  there }  A  surly  ill-bred  lord. 
Who  chides,  and  snaps  her  up  at  every  word; ' 
A  brutal  sot,  who  while  riie  liolds  his  head. 
With  drunken  filth  bedaubs  the  mqittBl  bed ; 
Sick  to  the  heart,  she  breathes  the  nauseous  fome 
Of  odious  steams,  that  poison  all  the  room  j 
Weeping  aU  night  the  trembUng  creature  lies. 
And  oocmts  the  tedious  houni  when  she  may  rise  : 
But  most  she  fears,  lest  waking  she  should  find. 
To  make  amends,  the  monster  would  be  kind: 
Those  matchless  beauties,  worthy  of  a  god, ' 
Must  bear,  iho'  much  averse,  the  loathsome  load : 
What  then  may  be  the  chance  that  next  ensues  ^  * 
Some  vile  disease,  fresh  reeking  from  the  stews  ; 
The  secret  venom  circlmg  m  her  veips. 
Works  thro'  her  skin,  and  bursts  in  bloatmg  stains  • 
Her  cheeks  their  freshness  lose,  and  wonted  grao^ 
And  an  unusual  paleness  spreads  her  fece ; 
Her  eyes  grow  dhn,  and  h«r  corrupted  breath 
Tainting  her  gums,  infects  her  iv»ry  teeth ! 
Of  sharp  nocturnal  anguish  she  complains. 
And,  guiltless  of  the  cause,  relates  her  pains. 
The  conscious  husband,  whom  like  sympt6ms  seize 
Charges  on  her  the  guilt  of  their  disease  j  ' 

Aflfccting  fiiry  acts  a  madman's  part. 
He'll  rip  the  fetal  secret  fiom  her  heart; 
Bids  her  confess,  calls  her  ten  thousand  names  • 
In  vam  she  kneels,  she  weeps,  protesto,  exclainu  5 
Scarce  with  her  life  she  'scapes,  expos'd  to  shame. 
In  body  tortnr'd,  murder'd  m  her  feme  ; 
Rots  with  a  vile  adulteress's  name. 
Abandon'd  by  her  friends,  without  defence. 
And  happy  only  in  her  umocence. 

Such  is  the  vengeance  the  just  gods  provide; 
For  those  who  barter  liberty  for  pride. 
Who  ^impiously  invoke  the  powers  above 
To  witness  to  felse  vows  of  mutual  love. 


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cloe..x;orinKA. 


81 


Tl^attcandb  of  poor  Qeorat  may  be  found, 
Soch  litnbaiids,  and  such  wretched  wives  abound. 

Ye  guardian  powers !  the  arbiters  of  bliss, 
iVeserre  Clarinda  from  a  fate  like  this ; 
Yoa  fcvmM  harfiur,  not  any  grace  denjr'd, 
Sot  ^ave,  alas  f  a  spark  too  much  of  pride. 
Reform  tiiat  fiuUng,  and  protect  her  still ; 
O  aawe  her  from  the  curse  of  choosing  ill ! 
l>eem  it  not  envy,  or  a  jealous  care, 
Tlittt  moves  tiiese  wishes,  or  provokes  this  prayer ; 
Tbougb  worse  than  death  I  dread  to  see  thos^  charms 
Allotted  to  some  hraaer  mortal's  arms, 
Xonnenting  thought  f  yet  could  I  bear  that  pain. 
Or  any  HI,  but  hearing  her  complain ; 
Intent  on  her,  my  love  finrgets  hb  own, 
Kor  frames  one  wish,  but  for  her  sake  alone ; 
WlMom^er  the  gods  have  destin'd  to  prefer, 
Tbey  oamiot  maka  nw  wretched,  Uessing  her. 


CLOE. 

IicrATmrr  with  desire,  at  last 
I  weotur'd  to  lay  forms  a»de ; 

TwBs  1  was  tnodest,  not  she  chaste, 
€3oey  so  gently  press'd,  comply'd. 

With  idle  awe,  an  amorous  fool, 
I  gaz'd  upon  her  eyes  with  iear ; 

Say,  Love,  bow  came  your  slave  so  dull^ 
To  read  no  better  there  ? 

Thus  to  oorsdves  the  greatest  fbes, 
Afthowgh  the  nymph  be  well  inchn'd ; 

For  want  of  oourage  to  propose. 
By  our  own  foUy  she  's  unkind. 


MRS.  CLAVERING  >. 
snromo. 

Wtfnc  we  behold  her  angel  face ; 

Or  when  sibe  sings  with  heavenly  grace. 

In  what  we  hear,  or  what  we  see. 

So  taTishing  's  the  harmony, 

The  melting  soul,  in  rap^re  lost. 
Knows  not  which  charm  enchants  it 


Sonnds  that  made  hills  aiid  rocks  rejoice, 
Ampibion's  tule,  the  Syrens*  voice, 
Woodets  with  pain  received  for  true. 
At  once  find  credit,  and  renew; 

No  charms  like  Chvering's  voice  surprize, 

EEoept  the  magic  of  her  eyes. 


SONG. 

Tra  happiest  martals  once  were  we^ 

I  krr'd  My  ra,  BIyra  me ; 
Eadi  desirous  of  the  blesBing, 
Nothing  wanting  but  possessing  ; 

I  kfw^d  Myra,  Myra  me, 

Tbe  happiest  mortals  once  were  we. 

Bat  since  cruel  fiUes  dissever, 

Tom  from  love^  and  torn  for  ever. 


Afterwards  lady  Cowper* 


Tortures  end  me, 

Death  befriend  me ; 
Of  all  pains,  the  greatest  paid« 
Is  to  love,  and  love  in  vain. 


THE  WILD  BOAR'S  DEFENCE. 

A  BoAa  who  had  enjoy'd  a  happy  reign 
For  many  a  year,  and  fed  on  many  a  man« 
Cali'd  to  account,  softening  his  savage  eyes, 
Thus  suppliant,  pleads  his  cause  before  he  dies. 

For  what  am  I  condemned  ?  My  crime 's  no  more 
To  eat  a  man,  than  yours  to  eat  a  boar : 
We  seek  not  you,  but  take  what  chance  providesi 
Nature,  and  mere  necessity  our  guides. 
You  murder  us  in  sport,  then  dish  us  up 
For  drunken  feasts,  a  relish  for  the  cup : 
We  lengthen  not  our  meals ;  but  you  must  feast. 
Gorge  tUl  your  bellies  burst-»-pray  who  *s  the  beast  ? 
With  your  humanity  you  keep  a  fuss. 
But  are  in  truth  worse  brutes  than  all  of  us  : 
We  prey  not  on  our  kind,  but  you,  dear  brother. 
Most  bristly  of  all  beasts,  devour  each  other : 
Kings  worry  kings,  neighbour  with  neighbour  strives. 
Fathers  and  sons,  friends,  brothers,  husbands,  wives. 
By  fraud  or  force,  by  poison,  sword,  or  gun. 
Destroy  each  other,  every  mother's  son. 


FOR  LIBERALITY. 

Though  safe  thou  think*st  thy  treasure  lies, 

Hidden  in  chests  from  human  eyes, 

A  fire  may  come,  and  it  may  be 

Bury*d,  my  friend,  as  far  from  thee. 

Thy  vessel  that  yon  ocean  stems. 

Loaded  with  golden  dust,  and  gem^, 

Purcbas'd  with  so  much  pains  and  cost. 

Yet  in  a  tempest  may  be  lost. 

Pimp6,  whores,  and  bawds,  a  thankless  crew. 

Priests,  pickpockets,  and  lawyers  too, 

All  help  by  several  ways  to  drain, 

Thanking  themselves  for  what  they  gain : 

The  liberal  are  secure  alone, 

For  what  we  frankly  give,  for  ever  is  our  own. 


CORINNA. 

CoRiNNA,  in  the  bloom  of  youth 

Was  coy  to  every  lover, 
Regardless  of  the  tenderest  truth. 

No  soft  complaint  could  move  her. 

Mankind  was  hers,  all  at  her  feet 

Lay  prostrate  and  adoring. 
The  witty,  handsome,  rich,  and  great. 

In  vain  alike  imploring. 

But  now  grown  old,  she  would  repair 
Her  loss  of  time,  and  pleasure ; 

With  willing  eyes,  and  wanton  air. 
Inviting  every  gazer. 

But  love  *s  a  summer  flower,  that  dies 
With  the  first  weather*s  changiug, 

Tbe  lover,  like  the  swallow,  flies 
From  sun  to  sun,  still  ranging. 


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Myn,  let  this  cfxaniple  move 
Your  foolish  heart  to  reason  ; 

Yoath  is  the  proper  time  for  lov6» 
And  age  is  virtue's  season. 


CLOE. 

Bright  as  the  day,  and,  like  the  morning,  £vr. 
Such  Uoe  i»— and  common  as  the  air. 


LANSDOWNE'S  1»0EMS. 


A  RECEIPT  FOR  VAPOURS. 

•*  Why  pines  my  dear  ?"  To  Fulvia  his  young  bride, 
Who  weeping  sat,  thus  aged  Comns  cry*d. 
**  Alas  !"  ssjd  she,  **  such  visions  breeJc  my  rest. 
The  strangest  thoughts !  I  think  I  am  posseM  : 
My  symptoms  I  have  told  to  men  of  skill, 
And  if  I  would---they  say — I  might  be  well.*' 
■  «*  Take  their  advice,"  said  he,  **  my  poor  dear 
1*11  buy  at  any  rate  thy  precious  life."  [wife, 

Blushing,  she  would  excuse,  but  all  m  vain, 
A  doctor  must  be  fetched  to  ease  her  pain. 
Haid  pressed,  she  yields :  from  White's,  or  Will's, 

or  Tom's, 
No  matter  which,  he  's  summon'd,  and  he  comes. 
The  careful  husband,  with  a  kind  embrace 
Entreats  his  care :  then  bows,  and  quits  the  place : 
For  little  ailments  oft  attend  the  fiiir. 
Not  decent  for  a  husband's  eye,  or  ear. 
Something  the  dame  would  say :  the  ready  knight 
Prevents  her  speech — *'  Here''s  that  shall  set  you 

right, 
Madam,"  said  he — with  that,  the  doors  made  close. 
He  gives  deliciously  the  healing  dose. 
•*  Aks !"  she  cries :  "  ah  me  !  O  cruel  cure ! 
Bid  ever  woman  yet  like  me  endure  ?" 
The  work  perform'd,  up  rising  gay  and  light. 
Old  Comus  is  caird  in  to  see  the  sight ; 
A  sprightly  red  vermillion  's  all  her  face, 
And  her  eyes  languish  with  unusual  grace: 
With  tears  of  joy  fresh  gushing  from  his  eyes, 
"  O  wond'rous  power  of  art !"  old  Comus  cries } 
**  Amazing  change  !  astonishing  success  ! 
Thrice-  happy  I !  What  a  brave  Doctor  's  this  ! 
Maids,  wives,  and  widows,  with  such  whims  opprest, 
May  thus  find  certain  ease. — Probatum  est." 


ON  AN  ILL-FAVOURED  LORD. 

That  Macro's  looks  are  good,  let  no  man  doubt. 
Which  I,  his  friend  and  servant — ^thus  make  out 
In  every  line  of  his  perfidious  fiace. 
The  secret  malice  of  his  heart  we  trace  j 
So  fair  the  warning,  an4  so  plainly  writ. 
Let  none  condemn  the  light  that  shows  a  pit 
Codes,  whose  face  finds  credit  for  his  heart. 
Who  can  escape  so  smooth  a  vilbin's  art  ? 
Adom'd  with  every  grace  that  can  persuade. 
Seeing  we  trust,  though  sure  to  be  betray  d  j 
His  looks  are  snares :  but  Macro's  cry  *'  Beware, 
BcHcve  not,  though  ten  thousand  oaths  he  swear  j" 
If  thou'rt  deceiv'd,  observing  uell  this  rule, 
Kot  Macro  is  the  knave,  but  thou  the  fboU 
In  this  one  point,  he  and  his  looks  agree. 
As  they  betray  their  master— so  did  be. 


CLOS. 

Cloe's  the  tfonder  of  her  sex, 

Tis  well  her  heart  is  tendo*, 
How  might  such  killing  eyes  perplex. 

With  Virtue  to  defend  her  ? 
But  Nature,  graciously  incUn'd 

With  liberal  hand  to  please  us, 
Has  to  her  boundless  beaoty  join'd 

A  boundless  bent  to  ease  ua. 


ON  THE  SAME. 

Or  injur'd  fame^  aud  mighty  wiongi  receirM, 

Cloe  complauis,  and  wond'rously  '•  mggnew'd  : 

That  finee,  and  lavish  of  a  beauteous  fece. 

The  fairest,  and  the  foulest  of  her  race. 

She's  mine,  or  thine,  and,  atroUing  up  and  doviv 

Sucks  in  more  filth,  than  any  sink  in  town, 

I  not  deny :  This  I  have  nid,  tis  true ; 

What  wrong  !  to  give  so  bright  a  «yii^  her  4at. 


CORINNA. 


So  well  Oorinna  likes  the  joy. 
She  vows  she*ll  never  more  be  ooy. 
She  drinks  eternal  draughts  of  pleasure ; 
Eternal  draughts  do  not  aoffloe, 
**  O !  giv«  me,  give  me  more,"  slw  tnm^ 
<*  'TIS  all  too  little,  little  HMSore." 
Thus  wisely  she  makes  up  for  time 
Mispent,  while  youth  was  in  its  prime : 
So  travellers,  who  waste  the  day,  , 

Careful  and  cautious  of  their  way. 
Noting  at  length  the  setting  Sun, 
They  mend  their  pace  as  night  comes  on. 
Double  their  speed  to  reach  then*  hm. 
And  whip  and  ^mr  through  thick  and  thm^ 


CLOE  PERFUMING  HERSELF. 

Believe  me,  Cloe,  those  perfumes  that  cost 
Such  sums  to  sweeten  thee.  Is  treasure  kwt; 
Not  ail  Arabia  would  sufficient  be. 
Thou  smell'st  not  of  thy  sweets,  they  stoak  of  thee. 


BELINDA. 

Belinda's  pride 's  an  arrant  cheat 

A  foolish  artifice  to  blind ; 
Some  honest  glance,  that  scorns  daeeit, 

Does  still  reveal  her  native  mind. 


With  look  demure,  and  forc'd  < 

She  idly  acts  the  saint ; 
We  see  through  this  disguise  as  plnin. 

As  we  distinguish  paint 

So  have  I  seen  grave  fools  design. 
With  formal  looks  to  pass  for  wise; 

But  Nature  is  a  light  will  shine. 
And  break  tiuough  all  disguise. 


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IMPROMPTU . .  i ;  DftlNfttNG  SONG. 


13 


ll^ROMPTU, 

Irtil'i'fN  VSDSR  A  PICTDRB  OP  THS  COUHTIH  OP 
SAXDVflCU,  IMUWN  IN  MAN'S  HABIT. 

Whin  Sandwich  m  ber  sex's  garb  we  see, 
The  queen  of  beaitty  then  she  seems  to  be  ; 
Now  fair  Adonis  in  this  male  disgnise, 
Or  little  Cugjd  with  his  mother's  eyes* 
No  style  of  empire  cbang'd  by  this  remove. 
Who  flecm'd  tbe  goddess^  seems  the  god  of  lote. 


TO   MY   PRIEND 

MIL  JOHN  DRYDEN, 

W  Uia  S&VERAL  fiXCELLBlVT  TRANSLATIONS  OP  THS 
ANCIENT   POETS. 

As  flowers,  transplanted  IVom  a  aouthern  ilqr» 
But  hardly  bear,  or  in  the  raising  die, 
MissiDg  their  native  sun,  at  best  retam 
But  a  fiunt  odour,  and  survive  with  pain : 
Thus  ancient  wit,  in  modem  nupibers  taught, 
lilEanting  the  warmth  with  which  its  author  wrote. 
Is  a  dead  image,  and  a  senseless  draught 
While  we  transfuse,  the  nimble  spirit  flies. 
Escapes  unseen,  evaporates,  and  dies. 
Who  then  to  copy  Roman  wit  desire. 
Most  imitate  with  Roman  force  and  fire. 
In  elegance  of  style,  and  phrase  the  same, 
And  in  the  sparkling  genius,  and  the  flame; 
Whence  we  conclude  from  thy  translated  song. 
So  just,  so  smooth,  »o  soft,  and  yet  so  strong ; 
Celestial  poet !  soul  of  harmony ! 
That  every  genius  was  revivM  in  thee. 
Thy  trumpet  sounds,  the  dead  are  rais'd  to  light. 
Never  to  die,  and  take  to  Heaven  their  flight; 
Beck'd  in  thy  verse,  as  clad  with  rays  th^  ihme. 
All  glorify  d,  immortal,  and  divme. 

As  Britain  in  rich  soQ,  abounding  wide, 
Foniish'd  for  use,  for  luxury,  and  pride. 
Yet  spreads  her  wanton  sails  on  every  shore 
For  foreign  wealth,  insatiate  still  of  more, 
To  her  own  wool  the  silks  of  Asia  joins, 
And  to  her  plenteous  harvests,  Indian  minfis : 
So  Dryden,  not  contented  with  the  fiarae 
Of  his  own  works,  though  an  immortal  name. 
To  lands  remote,  sends  ibith  his  learned  Muse, 
The  noblest  seeds  of  foreign  wit  to  choose ; 
Feasting  our  sense  so  many  various  ways. 
Sty,  ist  thy  bounty,  or  thy  thirst  of  praise  ? 
That  by  comparing  others,  all  might  see. 
Who  most  exoell'd,  are  yet  exceli'd  by  thea 


MORNING  HYMN. 

TO   TBI   DUTCHESS  Of   BAMILTOII. 

Awake,  brisht  Hamilton,  arise, 

Goddess  of  love,  and  of  the  day ; 
Awake,  disclose  thy  radiant  eyes. 

And  show  the  Sun  a  brighter  rsy. 
Phcebos  in  vain  calls  forth  the  flushing  mora. 
He  but  creates  the  day  wi»ch  you  adorn. 
The  lark,  that  wont  with  waiUmg  throat 

Early  to  salute  the  skies. 
Or  rieqps,  or  else  suspends  bis  nots, 

I>isclaiinine  day  till  yo«   rii^ 

VOL  XL 


Goddess  awake,  thy  beams  disptajr^ 

Restore  the  universe  to  light; 
When  Hamilton  appears,  then  dawns  the  day*; 

And  when  she  disappears,  begins  the  night. 

Lovers,  who  watchful  vigils  keep, 

(For  lovers  never,  never  sleep) 

Wait  for  the  rising  of  thb  fair. 

To  offer  songs  and  hymns  of  prayer;    • 
Like  Persians  to  the  Sun, 

Even  life,  and  death,  and  fate  are  there: 

For  in  the  rolls  of  ancient  dettiny, 
Th'  inevitable  book,  twas  noted  down. 

The  dying  should  revive,  the  living  die, 
As  Hamilton  shall  smile,  as  Hamilton  shall  frown  \ 

CHORUS. 

Awake  bright  Hamilton,  arise. 

Goddess  of  love,  and  of  the  day. 
Awake,  disclose  thy  radiant  eyes, 
.And  shew  the  Sun  a  brighter  ray. 
Phoebus  in  vain  calls  forth  the  blushing  mom. 
He  but  creates  the  day,  which  yon  adorn.         • 


DRINKING  SONG  TO  SLEEP* 

GasAT  god  of  sleep,  since  it  must  be. 
That  we  must  give  some  hours  to  thee. 
Invade  me  not  while  the  free  bowl 
Glows  in  my  cheeks,  and  warms  my  soul ; 
That  be  my  only  time  to  snore, 
When  I  can  laugh,  and  drink  no  more ; 
Short,  very  short  be  then  thy  reign. 
For  I'm  in  haste  to  laugh  and  dnnk  again* 

But  Q  !  if,  melting  in  my  arms, 
'*ln  some  soft  dream,  with  all  her  charms. 
The  nymph  belovM  should  then  surprise. 
And  grant  what  waking  she  denies ; 
Then,  gentle  Slumber,  pr'ythee  stay. 
Slowly,  ah  !  slowly  bring  the  day. 
Let  no  r*de  noise  my  bliss  destroy. 
Such  sweet  delusion  's  real  joy. 


VraiTTEN  UPON  A   DRINKIKC   CLASS   UN0fift 

If  its:  HARE'S  NAME. 

The  gods  of  wine,  and  wit,  and  love  prepare, 
Wth  chearful  bowls,  to  celebrate  the  lair : 
Love  is  enjoin'd  to  name  his  favourite  toast, 
And  Hare's  the  goddess  that  delights  him  most; 
Phoebus  approves,  and  bids  the  trumpet  sound. 
And  Bacchus  in  a  bumper  sends  it  round. 


UNDER  THE  DUTCHESS  OF  BOLTON^S. 

Love's  keenest  darts  axe  radiant  Bolton's  care. 
Which  the  bright  goddess  poisons  with  d«ipidr : 
The  god  of  wme  the  dire  eflbci  foresees, 
And  sends  the  juice  that  gives  the  lovsr  tas^ 
.  I 

UNDER  THE  LADY  HARPER'S. 
To  Harper,  sprightly,  yomig,  and  gay. 
Sweet  as  the  rosy  mom  in  May, 
FiU  to  the  brim,  I'll  drink  it  up 
Tbtbe  laA  drop,  were  poison  in  the  cup^ 
\     » 


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34 


Lansdow>x's  poems. 


tf.VDEE  TWE 

LADY  MARY  riLLIER>S  KAMR 
If  I  not  love  you,  Villiers,  more 
Than  ever  mortal  lov'd  before. 
With  such  a  passion  fixt  and  sure. 
As  even  possession  could  not  cure. 
Never  to  cease  but  with  my  breath  ; 
May  then  this  bumper  be  my  death. 


CUPID  DISARMED. 

to   THE   VRiNCESS   D^AUVBECNE. 

Cupid,  delighting  to  be  near  her, 

Chann'd  to  behold  her,  charmed  to  hear  her, 

As  he  stood  gazing  on  hi^r  face, 

Enchanted  with  each  matchless  graces 

Jjost  in  the  trance,  he  drops  the  dart. 

Which  never  feils  to  reach  the  heart : 

She  seizes  it,  and  arms  her  hand, 

**  *Ti8  thus  I  Love  himself  command  j 

Now  tremble,  cruel  boy,  she  said, 

For  all  the  mischief  you  have  made.*' 

The  god,  recovering  his  surprise, 
Trusts  to  his  wings,  away  he  flies. 
Swift  as  an  arrow  cuts  the  wind. 
And  leaves  his  whole  artUlery  behind. 
Princess,  r^ore  the  boy  his  useless  darts. 
With  surer  charms  ywi  captivate  our  hearts  ; 
Love's  captives  oft  their  liberty  regain, 
Death  only  can  release  us  from  your  chain. 


»X?I.iCATIOIf    IN   FKEKCn. 

cupiDON  desarm£ 

tkntt.   FOIR    MADAME    I^   PRINCES8B   d'aUVERGNB. 

CupiDON,  prcnant  plasir  dc  se  trouvcr  tofijours 
aupres  d'elle ;  charm6  de  la  voir,  charm^  de 
Tentendre ;  comme  il  admiroit  un  jour  ses  graces 
inimitables,  dans  cette  distraction  de  son  ame  &  de 
ses  sens,  il  laissa  tomber  c6  dard  fatal  quii  ne 
manqu^  Jartiis  dc  pcrcer  lea  coeurs.  Elle  le  ra- 
masse  soudaio,  &  s'armatit  la  belle  main, 

"  C'est  ainsi,»dit  elle,  "qucjemerendmaitresse 
de  TAmtiwr,  trrmblez,  enfant  malin,  je  veux 
vanger  tons  les  maux  que  tu  as  fait." 

1x5  dieu  etonne,  revenant  de  sa  surprize,  se  fiant 
a  scs  ailes,  s'echappe,  &  s'envole  vite  comme  une 
fleche  qui  fend  Tair,  &  lui  kusse  la  ponession  de 
toute  son  artillerie. 

Princcsse,  rcndez  lui  ses  nrmcs  qui  vous  sont 

tnutiles : 
t&  Nature  vous  a  donnce  dcs  charmes  pluspuissants : 
les  captives  de  l- Amour  smivent  recouvrent  la  liberty  • 
11  n'y  a  que  la  Mort  seule  qui  puisse  afiranchir  les 

votres. 


BACCHUS  DISARMED. 

TO  MRS.  I  AURA  DILLON,  NOW  LADY  FALKLAND. 

Bacchi'h  to  arms  !  the  enomy  »s  at  hand, 
lAura  appears  -,  stand  to  your  glasses,  stand, 


The  god  of  love,  the  god  of  rmc  deies, 
Behold  him  in  full  march,  in  Laura's  eyeiT 
Baicchus  to  arms !   and  to  resist  the  dart. 
Each  with  a  faithful  brimmer  guard  his  h^rt^ 
Fly,  Bacchus,  fly,  there's  treason  in.the  c»^, 
For  Lflve  comes  pouring  in  with  every  drop  | 
I  feel  hhn  in  my  heart,  my  blood,  my  brain^ 
Fly,  Bacchus,  fly,  resisttance  is  in  vain. 
Or  craving  quarter,  crown  a  friendly  bowl 
To  Laura's  health,  and  give  up  all  thy  souL 


THYRSIS  AND  DELIA. 

SONG  IN  DULOOtjE. 
THYRStt. 

Delia,  how  long  must  I  dcspai^ 

And  tax  you  with  disdain ; 
Still  to  my  tender  love  severe. 

Untouched  when  I  complain  ? 

DELIA. 

When  men  of  eqtial  merit  love  us. 

And  do  with  equal  ardour  sue, 
Thyrsis,  you  know  but  one  must  move  us> 

Can  I  Be  your's  and  Strcphon's  too  ? 
My  eyes  view  both  with  mighty  pleasure, 

Impartial  to  your  high  desert. 
To  b<^  alike,  osteem  I  measure. 

To  one  alone  can  give  my  heart* 

THYRStS. 

Mysterious  giiide  of  inclination. 

Tell  me,  tyrant,  why  am  I 
With  equal  merit,  equal  passioq. 

Thus  the  victim  chosen  to  di«r 
Why  am  I 

The  victim  chosen  to  die  ? 

DBUA. 

On  Fate  alone  depends  success. 

And  Fiancy,  Reason  over-rules. 
Or  why  should  Virtue  ever  miss 

Reward,  so  often  given  to  fools  ? 
'Tis  not  the  valiant,  nor  the  witty. 

But  who  alone  is  bom  to  please; 
Love  does  predestinate  our  pity, 

"VVe  choose  but  whom  he  first  decreet. 


A  LATIN  INSCRIPTION 

t)N  A  MEDAL  FOR  LEWIS  XIT.  OF  FRANCE. 

Proximus  &  similis  regnas,  Ludovice,  tonantj. 
Vim  summam,  summa  cimi  pietate,  geris, 

Magnus  es  expansis  alis,  s6d  maximus  armia, 
Protegis  hinc  Angloa,  Teutones  inde  feris. 

Quin  coeAnt  toto  Titania  foedera  Rheno, 
Ilia  aquilam  tantilm,  Oallia  fulmen  habeL 


aNCLISHED,    AND    APPLIED    tO 

SUEEN  ANNE. 

Next  to  the  Thunderer  let  Anna  stand. 
In  piety  supreme,  a«  in  commaod  j 


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tftOLOGUES. .....  EPILOGUES. 


3# 


Ihcm^A  for  ▼ictorioas  aims  and  generous  aid, 
Young  Anstria^s  refbge,  and  fierce  Bourixm's  dread. 
Titanian  leagues  in  vain  shall  brave  the  Rhine, 
%Vlien  to  the  eagle,  you  the  thunder  join. 


URGANDA'S  PROPHECY. 

SPOKEN   BY   WAY    OP   EPILOGUE   AT  THE 
FIRST  REPEESENTATION  OP 

THE  BRITISH  ENCHANTERS. 

VaopiicTic  finy  rolls  within  my  breast. 
And  as  at  Delphop,  when  the  foaming  priest 
Full  of  hit  god,  proclaims  the  distant  doom 
Of  kings  unborn,  and  nations  yet  to  come; 
My  labouring  mind  so  struggles  to  unfold 
On  BrHish  groimd  a  future  age  of  gold ; 
But  lest  incredulous  you  hear — behold : 

Here  a  scene  representing  the  quibm,  and  the  several 
triumphs  qfher  majesty* s  reign, 

Hi^  on  a  throne  appears  the  martial  queen, 
WHh  grace  sublime,  and  with  imperial  mien; 
dnrYeying  round  her,  with  impartial  eyes, 
Whom  to  protect,  or  whom  she  shall  chastise. 
Next  to  her  side,  victorious  Marlbro*  stands. 
Waiting,  observant  of  her  dread  commands; 
The  queen  ordains,  and,  like  Alcides,  he 
Obeys,  and  executes  her  high  decree. 
In  every  line  of  her  auspicious  face 
Soft  Mercy  smiles,  adomM  with  every  grace ; 
So  angels  look,  and  so  when  Heaven  decrees, 
They  scourge  the  world  to  piety  and  peace. 

Empreai  and  conqu'ror,  hail !  thee  Fates  ordain 
O'er  all  the  willmg  world  sole  arbitress  to  reign ; 
To  no  one  people  are  thy  laws  confinM, 
Great  Britain*8  queen,  but  guardian  of  mankind; 
Sure  hope  of  all  who  dire  oppression  bear, 
For  all  th»  oppressed  become  thy  instant  care. 
Nations  of  conquest  proud,  thou  tam*st  to  free. 
Denouncing  war,  presenting  liberty; 
The  victor  to  the  vanquished  yields  a  prize, 
For  in  thy  triumf^  their  redemption  lies; 
Freedom  and  peace,  for  ravished  fame  you  ghre. 
Invade  to  bless,  and  conquer  to  relieve. 
So  the  Sun  scorches,  and  revives  by  turns, 
Bequiting  with  rich  metals  where  he  bums. 

Tau^t  by  this  great  example  to  be  just. 
Succeeding  kings  shall  well  ^fil  their  trust; 
Bitoord,  and  war,  and  t3nnBnny  shall  cease. 
And  jarring  nations  be  contpell'd  to  peace ; 
Princes  and  states,  like  subjects  shall  agree 
To  troft  her  power,  sale  in  her  piety. 


No  such  convulsive  pangs  it  tkill  require. 
To  write  the  pretty  things  which  you  admire. 

Our  author  then,  to  please  you,  in  your  way. 
Presents  you  now  a  bauble  of  a  play ; 
In  jingling  rhyme,  well  fbrtify'd  and  strong. 
He  fights  entrenched  o*er  head  and  ears  iu  song. 
If  here  and  there  some  evil-fated  line. 
Should  chance  through  inadvertency  to  shine» 
I^orgive  him,  beaux,  h6  means  you  no  ottVnce, 
But  begs  you  for  the  love  of  song  and  dauce. 
To  pardon  all  the  poetry  apd  sense. 


ANOTHER 

EPILOGUE, 

DESIGNED   FOR   THE   SAME. 

Wit  once,  like  Beauty,  without  art  or  dress, 

Naked,  and  unadom'cl,  could  find  success. 

Till  by  fruition,  novelty  destroy'd. 

The  n]nnph  must  find  new  charms  to  be  enpfod* 

As  by  his  equipage  the  man  you  prize. 

And  ladies  must  have  gems  beside  their  eyes : 

So  fiwes  it  too  with  pla3rs ;  in  vain  we  write,-- 

Unless  the  music  and  the  dance  invite. 

Scarce  Hamlet  clean  the  charges  of  the  night. 

Would  you  but  fix  some  standard  bow  to  move. 

We  would  transform  to  any  thing  you  love ; 

Judge  oiu"  desire  by  our  cost  and  pains. 

Sure  the  expense,  uncertain  are  the  gain^. 

But  though  we  fetch  from  Italy  and  France 

Our  fopperies  of  tune,  and  mode  of  dance. 

Our  sturdy  Britons  scorn  to  borrow  sense  i 

However  to  foreign  fashions  we  submit, 

siUl  every  fop  prefars  his  mother  wit. 

In  only  wit  this  constancy  is  shown, 

For  never  was  that  arrant  changeling  known. 

Who  for  another's  sense  would  quit  his  own. 

Our  author  would  excuse  these  3routhful  scenes. 
Begotten  at  his  entrance  in  his  teens : 
Some  childish  ftincies  may  approve  the  toy. 
Some  like  the  Muse  the  more  for  being  a  boy; 
And  ladies  should  be  pleasM,  if  not  content. 
To  find  so  young  a  thing,  not  wholly  impotent* 
Our  stage-reformers  too  he  would  disarm. 
In  charity  so  cold,  in  zeal  so  warm ; 
And  therefore  to  atone  for  stage  abuses,  * 
And  gain  the  ehureh-indulgence  for  the  Muses, 
He  gives  his  thirds^-to  charitable  uses. 


PROLOGUE 

TO 

THB  BRITISH  ENCHANTERS. 

Porrs  by  observation  find  it  true, 
Td  harder  much  to  please  themselves  than  yoo ; 
To  weave  a  plot,  to  work  and  to  refme 
A  laboured  scene ;  to  polish  every  line 
Jndfmient  must  sweat,  and  feel  a  mother's  P«ms : 
Vain  fools  !  thus  to  disturb  and  rack  their  mint, 
When  more  indulgent  to  the  writer's  e«K^ 
Y«o  an  too  good  to  be  to  hard  to  pleast| 


PROLOGUE 

TO  ME.  BBVIL  HICCON's  EXCELLENT  TRAOEDTi 
CALLED 

THE  GENEROUS  CONQUEROR. 

Your  comic  writer  is  a  common  foe. 
None  can  mtrigue  in  peace,  or  be  a  beau. 
Nor  wanton  wife,  nor  widow  can  be  sped. 
Not  even  Rossel  ^  can  inter  the  dead, 
But  straight  this  censor,  in  his  whun.of  wit, 
Stript,  and  presents  you  naked  to  the  pit. 

>  Russel,  a  funous  undertaker  for  funerals ;  al- 
luding to  a  comedy  written  by  sir  Richard  Steele, 
entiUed  The  FmnnO. 


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thtis  critics  rfkOQia,  liK^thM,  be  branded  foei, 
Who  for  the  poison  only  suck  the  rose ; 
Snarling  and  carph^,  withoot  wH  or  senae, 
Impoeefa  miarakes,  oHfflookmg  exbellence  i 
As  if ,to  every  fep  it  anight  bjoag, 
Like  aenaton  to  censure,  right  or  wrong. 

But  generous  minds  have  more  heroic  views, 
And  love  and  honour  are  the  themes  they  choose. 
From  yon  bright  Heaven  »  our  author  fetched  hb 
And  paints  the  passions  that  your  eyes  inspire :  [fire. 
Full  of  that  flame,  his  tender  scenes  be  warms. 
And  frames  his  foddess  by  your  matchless  channs* 


MPtLOaUB 

to 

THE  JEW  OF  VfiNlCE. 

£acm  in  his  torn,  the  poet  *,  and  the  priest  3, 
Have  view»d  the  stage,  but  like  fiilse  prophets 
The  man  of  zeal,  in  his  religious  rage,        [guess'd. 
Would  silence  poets,  and  reduce  the  stage ; 
The  poet,  rashly  to  get  clear,  retorts 
On  kings  the  scandal,  and  bespatters  courts. 
Both  err :  for,  without  mincing,  to  be  plain. 
The  guilt's  your  own  of  every  odious  scene : 
The  present  time  still  gives  the  stage  its  mede^ 
The  vices  that  you  practise,  we  explode ; 
We  hold  the  glass,  and  but  reflect  your  shame, 
like  Spartans,  by  exposing,  to  reclaim. 
The  scribler,  pinched  with  hunger,  writes  to  dine, 
And  to  your  genius  nuist  conmrm  hb  Ihie ; 
Not  lewd  by  choice,  but  merely  to  submit : 
Would  yon  encourage  sense,  sense  would  be  writ 
Good  plays  we  try,  which,  after  the  first  day. 
Unseen  we  act,  and  to  bare  benches  play ; 
Plain  sense,  which  pleased  your  sires  an  age  ago^      I 
Is  lost,  without  the  garniture  of  show :  i 

At  vast  expense  we  labour  to  our  ruiq, 
And  court  3ronr  favour  with  our  own  undoing; 
A  war  of  profit  mitigates  the  evil, 
But  to  be  tax'd  and  beaten— is  the  deviL 
How  was  the  scene  fbrlom,  and  how  despi^'d. 
When  Tiraon,  without  music,  moralized  ? 
Shakespeare^  sublime  in  vain  enticed  the  throng. 
Without  the  aid  ofPurcel's  syren  song. 
*    In  the  same  antkjue  loom  the^  scenes  were 

wrought,  ' 

KmbeTIish'd  with  good  morals,  and  just  thought ; 
True  Nature  in  her  noblest  light  you  see, 
F.re  yet  debauched,  by  modem  gallantry. 
To  trifling  jests,  and  fydsorae  ribaldry. 
What  rust  remains  upon  the  shining  mass. 


UN^DOWKt'S  I^OEMS. 


Antk)uity  must  privilege  to  pass. 
Tis  Shakespeare^s  play,  and  if  these 


carry, 


scenes  mis' 


let  Gormon  *  take  the  stage— or  Lady  Mary  \ 


PROLOVtfE! 


fHE  SHE-GAIXANTSj 
on 

ON  CI  A  tOV^  AHH  ALWAYS  A  LOVttU 

As  quiet  menarchs  that  on  peaceful  thrones 
In  sports  and  revels  long  had  reign'd  like  jdrones^ 
Rouzing  at  length,  reflect  with  guilt  and  shame. 
That  not  one  stroke  had  yet  been  given  for  lame  j. 
Wars  they  denounce,  and  to  redeem  the  past. 
To  bold  attem^,  and  rugged  labburs  haste : 
Our  po^  so,  with  like  concern  reviews 
The  youthful  follies  of  a  kyve^ck  Muse ; 
To  amourous  toils,  and  to  the  silent  grtive. 
To  Beanty's  snares,  and  to  deccdtfttf  Love 
He  bids  farewel ;  his  shield  and  lance  prepares. 
And  mounts  the  stage,  to  bid  immortal  wars, 
t   Vice,  Hke  some  monster,  suffering  none  t'escape^ 
Has  seiz'd  the  town,  and  varies  still  her  8hiq>e: 
Here,  like  some  genera],  she  struts  in  state. 
While  crouds  in  red  and  Uue  her  orders  wait; 
There,  like  some  pensive  statesnian  treads  demure^ 
And  smiles  and  hugs,  to  make  destruction  sure : 
Now  under  high  commodes,  with  looks  erect, 
Barefi^c'd  devours,  in  gaudy  ooloure  deck'd; 
Then  in  a  vizard,  to  avoid  grimace, 
AUows  all  freedom,  but  to  see  the  feice. 
In  pulpits  and  at  bar  she  wears  a  gown. 
In  camps  ■  sword,  in  palaces  a  crown. 
Resolv'd  to  eombat  with  this  motley  beast 
Our  poet  comes  to  strike  one  stroke  at  least. 

His  glass  he  means  not  for  this  jilt  or  beau. 
Some  features  of  you  all  he  means  to  show. 
On  chosen  heads,  nor  lets  the  thunder  fell. 
But  acatters  his  artillery--at  all. 

Yet  to  the  fair  he  fain  would  quarter  show. 
His  tender  heart  recoils  at  every  blow; 
If  unawares  he  gives  too  smart  a  stroke. 
He  means  but  te  correct,  and  not  provide 


ODE 

OK  THE 


'Td^Tjadies. 

*  Mr.  Dryden^s  Prologue  to  the  Pilgrimr 
.3  Mr.  Collier's  View  of  the  Stages 

<  A  ^mous  prize-fighter. 

*  A  famous  rope-dancer  so  mXki^^ 


PRESENT  OORRUPTK>X  OP  MANKIK^^ 
rysctrsBD  to  tsb  loan  Falkland. 

Rcnown'd  for  anns  and  arts,.in  war  and  peace. 
My  kmsman,   and  toy  friendl  from  w&ence  th# 
curse 

Entail'd  on  mscn,  stiU  to  gnm  wwse  an*  werac? 

Each  age,  industrious  to  invent  new  crimes, 
^ves  to  outdo  m  guilt  preceding  times; 
But  no«;  we»re  so  improved  in  aU  that's  bad. 
We  shall  leave  noCfaiag  for  our  sons  to  add. 

That  id<^.  Gold,  possesses  every  heart. 
To  cheat,  defraud,  and  undermine,  is  art  • 
Virtue  is  folly;  conscience  is  ajeat ;  ' 
Rehgion  gafai,  or  prieitciBft  at  the  best. 

Yo«rgP»testfiie,iaytmrpwf«ng«end;    ^^ 


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EPIGRAMS .PELEUS  AND  TOETIS. 


sr 


Th«  toal  resignM,  noguarded,  «id  secnre, 
The  wound  Is  deepest,  and  the  stroke  most  sure. 

Justice  is  bought  and  sold ;  the  bench,  the  bar 
Plead  and  decide ; .  but  Gold's  th*  interpreter* 
Pemicioas  metal !  thrice  accurst  be  he 
Who  found  thee  first;  all  evils  spring  from  thee. 

Sires  sell  their  Bon$,  and  sons  ihehr  sires  betray: 
And  senates  vote,  as  armies  fight,  for  pay; 
The  wife  no  longer  is.  restrained  by  shame. 
But  has  the  hu^umd's  leave  to  play  the  game, 

Biseas'd,  decrepit,  from  the  mixt  embrace 
Bucceeds,  of  spurious  mold,  a  puny  race; 
From  such  danders  what  can  Britain  hope^ 
And  where,  O  Liberty  1  is  now  thy  prop  ? 

Not  snch  the  men  who  bent  the  stubborn  bow^ 
And  learnt  m  rugged  sports  to  dare  a  foe : 
Not  such  the  teen  who  fill'd  with  heaps  of  slain 
FamM  Agincourt  and  Cretsy's  bkody  plain. 

Haughty  Britannia  then,  inur'd  to  toil, 
^iraed  fw  and  near  the  terrorus  of  her  isle; 
iVue  to  herself,  and  to  the  public  weal. 
No  Gallic  gold  could  blunt  the  British  steel. 

Not  much  unlike,  when  thon  m  arms  wer*t  seen, 
Eager  lor  glory  on  th'  embattled  green. 
When  Stanhope  led  thee  through  the  heats  of  Spam, 
To  die  in  purple  Ahnanara's  plain. 

The  rescued  empire,  and  the  Gaul  8ubdu*dy 
In  Anna's  reign,  our  ancient  feme  renewed : 
What  Britons  ^ould,  when  justly  rcNis'd  to  war, 
l4t  Blenheim  speak,  and  witness  QJbraltar, 


FORTUNE, 

EHGtAM. 

Whin  Fortune  seems  to  smile.  His  then  I  fear 
Some  lurking  ill,  and  hidden  mischief  near : 
IVd  to  her  frowns,  I  stand  upgo  my  guard. 
And  ann*d  in  virtue,  keep  my  soul  piepar'i 
Fickle  and  false  to  others  she  niay  be, 
4  can  complain,. ...  but  of  her  coDBtanpy. 

Virtatem  h  m^ 

Fortunam  ex  aliis  .  .  ». , 


CHARACTER  OF  MR,  JVYCHERLEY  U 

Op  all  our  modem  wits,  none  seems  to  me 
Onoe  to  have  touoh'd  upon  true  comedy, 
lot  hasty  ShadweU,  and  slow  Wycherley, 

1  This  character*  however  just  m  otiier  parti- 
cultrs,  yet  is  ii^urious  in  one ;  Mr.  Wycherley  be- 
ing Kfiresented  as  a  laborious  writer,  which  every 
nan  who  has  the  least  personal  knowledge  of  him 
can  cooBtradict 

Tboae  indeed,  who  form  their  judgment  only 
IpBhii  vsitiBgs,  ni^y  tf  ^  to  ipiigini  so  many 


Siadweirs  unfinished  works  do  yet  impart 
Great  proo6  of  Nature's  force,  Uiougli  none  of  Art ; 
But  Wycherley  earns  b^rd  whatever  he  gains, 
He  wants  no  judgment,  and  hespares  no  pains,  &c 
Lord  Roc|)ester's  Ppems* 


VERSES 

Wtrmsi   IN   A   LEAP  OP  THE   AUTHOa'S  fOEMf^ 
PRESENTED  TO  THE  QUBBN. 

THE  MUSE'S  LAST  DYfNQ  SONGr 
A  Mvss  exphring,  who,  with  earliest  voie^. 
Made  kings  and  queens,  and  Beauty's  ehanns  bsf 

choice; 
Now  on  her  death-bed,  this  last  homage  pays, 
O  Queen  !  to  thee  t  accept  l^er  dying  lays.  • 
So,  at  th'  approach  of  Death,  the  cygnet  tries 
To  warble  one  note  moie— and  nnging  dies. 
Hail,  mighty  qiieen !  whose  powerfiil  smile  alone 
Commands  subjection,  and  secures  the  throne ; 
Contending  parties,  and  plebeian  rage, 
Had  puzzled  Lqyalty  for  half  an  age  : 
Conquering  our  hearts,  3rou  end  the  long  disputi^ 
AU>  who  have  ^yes,  confess  yon  absolute. 
To  Tory  doctrines,  even  WMgs  resign. 
And  in'your  person  own  a  right  divine. 
Thus  sang  the  Muse,  in  her  last  moments  fif^ 
With  QaroUna's  praise— and  then  ejq^Mr'd. 


warrrxN  ik  a  lsap  op  tub  samb  POPOt 

PRBIBNTBD  TO  TBI  PaiN'ClSS  aeVAL. 

Wheh  we'd  exalt  some  heavenly  feir. 

To  some  bright  goddess  we  compare : 

Minerva,  wisdom  ;  Jiuio,  grace ; 

And  Venus  furnishes  the  face : 

In  royal  Anne's  bright  form  is  seeui 

A^liat  comprehends  them  all— The  queen. 


wftrrTBii  ojf  a  window  in  thi  towbe,  wniae  sia 

aOBBRT  WALPOLE  HAD  BEEN  CONFINED. 

Goop  unexpecteti,  evil  unforeseen. 
Appear  by  turns,  as  Fortune  shifts  the  scene  t 
Some,  rais'd  aloft,  come  tumbling  down  amain, 
And  f^  S0  hard,  they  bound  and  rise  again. 


mtEUS  AND  THETIS, 

A   IU9QV6,   SET  TO   MUSIC, 

THE  ARGUMENT. 
Peleus,  in  love  with  Thetis,  by  the  assistance  of 
Pffyteut  obliDDi  |ier  &voiir ;  but  Jupiter  inter- 
admirable  rsdectiopM,  suoh  dhrersity  qf  images  and 
chaiacters,  such  strict  inquiries  hito  nature,  such 
close  observations  on  the  sfrv^ral  humours,  manners, 
and  affections  cf  ^^1  ruaks  aod  degrees  of  men,  and, 
as  it  were,  so  true  and  so  perfect  a  dissection  of 
humankind,  delivered  with  so  much  .pointed  wit 
i^nd  finrce  of  e^Qvesuem,  could  bf  no  other  than  thf 


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38 


LANSDOWNE-S  POEMS. 


poeing,  Meus  hi  despair  consuKs  Promethens, 
famous  for  his  skill  in  astrology ;  upon  whose 
prophecy,  that  the  son  bom  of  Thetis  should 
prove  greater  than  his  fiither,  Jupiter  desists. 
The  prophecy  was  afterwards  venfied  in  the 
birth  of  Achilles,  the  son  of  Peleus. 

PERSONS  IN  THE  MASQUE. 

Jupiter.  PROMETHSUi. 

Peleus.  Thetis. 

.  The  Scene  repreienU  mount  Caucasus;  Prometheus 
appears  chahCd  to  a  rock,  a  vulture  gnawing  his 
breait,  « Peleus  «n<«rv  addrgst'mg  himse^  to  Pro- 
metheus. 

PSLEUt. 

Condemned  on  Caucasus  to  lie. 

Still  to  be  dying,  not  to  die, 

With  certain  pain,  uncertain  of  relief. 

True  embleiTi  of  a  wretched  lover's  grief ! 

To  whose  inspecting  eye  'tis  given 
To  view  the  planetary  way. 
To  penetrate  eternal  day,        ' 

And  to  revolve  the  starry  heaven. 

To  thee,  Prometheus,  I  complain. 

And  bring  a  heart  as  fiill  of  pain. 

PROMETHEUS. 

From  Jnpiter  spring  all  our  woes, 

Thetis  is  Jove's,  who  once  was  thine : 
^is  vain,  O  Peleus,  to  oppose 

Thy  torturer,  and  mine. 
Contented  with  despair, 
Resign  the  fair, 
Resign,  resign. 
Or  wretched  man,  prepare 
For  change  of  torments,  great  as  mine. 


In  change  of  torment  wonld  be  ease ; 

Could  you  divine  what  lovers  bear. 
Even  you,  Prometheus,  would  confess 

There  is  no  vulture  like  despair. 

work  of  extraordinary  diligence  and  application : 
wheroas  others,  who  have  the  happiness  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  the  author,  as  well  as  his  writings, 
are  able  to  affirm  these  happy  performances  were 
due  to  his  infinite  genius  and  natural  penetration. 
IVc  owe  the  pleasure  and  advantage  of  having  been 
so  well  entertained  and  instructeid  by  him  to  his 
facility  of  doing  it ;  for,  if  I  mistake  him  not  ex- 
tremely, had  it  l>een  a  trouble  to  him  to  write,  he 
would  have  spared  himself  that  trouble.  What  he 
has  (lerfonnol  would  indeed  have  been  difficult  for 
another ;  but  the  club  which  a  man  of  ordinary 
Kt/o  could  not  lift,  was  bdt  a  walking-stick  for 
Hennilcs. 

Mr.  Wycherley,  in  his  writings,  has  been  the 
sharpest  satirist  of  his  time ;  but,  in  his  nature,  he 
ha^  all  the  softness  of  the  tenderest  dispositions : 
in  his  writings  he  is  severe,  bold,  undertakmg ;  in 
his  nature,  gentle,  modest,  inoffensive ;  he  makes 
wsc  of  his  satire  as  a  man  truly  brave  of  his  courage, 
only  upon  public  occasions  and  for  public  good. 
Hf  compassionates  the  wounds  he  is  under  a  ne- 
cesvity  to  probe,  or,  like  a  good-natured  conqnerer, 
^evcs  at  the  occasions  that  provoke  him  to  make 
•u^h  ha\'ock. 

The^e  are  who  object  to  his  yernficatlon ;  but  a 


ptoteEiifBirs. 
Cease,  cruel  vulture,  to  deyour, 

riLBUS. 

Cease,  cruel  Thetis,  to  disdain. 

Thetii  entering,  they  repeat  togetkir^ 
Cease,  cruel  vulture,  to  devour. 
Cease,  cruel  Thetis,  to  disdain. 

THFriS. 

Peleus,  unjustly  3rou  complain. 

PROMETHEUS   and  tELEV; 

Cease,  cruel  vulture,  to  devour. 
Cease,  cruel  Thetis,  to  disdain. 
thbtis. 

Peleus,  unjustly  you  complain. 

The  gods,  alas  !  no  refuge  find 
From  ilb  resistless  Fates  ordain : 

I  still  am  true — a^d  would  be  kind. 

PELEUS. 

To  love  and  to  languish 
To  sigh  and  complain. 
How  cruel  *8  the  anguish  ! 
How  tonnenting  's  the  pain ! 
Suing, 
Pursuing, 
Flying, 
Denying, 
O  the  curse  of  disdain. 
How  tonnenting 's  the  pain ! 
TqIovc,  4cc 

THETIS. 

Accursed  Jealousy ! 
Thou  jaundice  in  the  lover's  ejre. 
Through  which  all  objects  false  we  see^ 

Accursed  jealousy !  • 
Thy  rival,  Peleus,  rules  the  sky. 

Yet  I  so  prize  thy  love. 
With  Peleus  I  would  choose  to  die. 
Rather  than  reign  with  Jove. 

diamond  is  not  less  a  diamond  (or  not  being  polish** 
ed.  Versification  is  in  poetry  what  oolooring  is  ii| 
painting,  a  beautiful  ornament;  but  if  the  propor- 
tions are  just,  the  posture  true,  the  figure  lM>ld» 
and  the  resemblance  according  to  nature,  though.' 
the  coloun  should  happen  to  be  rough,  or  care^ 
lessly  laid  on,  yet  may  the  piece  be  of  inestimable 
\^Iue ;  whereas  the  finest  and  the  nicest  colouring 
art  can  invent,  is  biit  labour  in  vain,  where  the  rest 
is  wanting.  Our  present  writers  indeed,  for  the 
most  part,  seem  to  lay  the  whole  stress  of  their  en- 
deavours upon  the  harmony  of  words ;  but  then, 
like  eunuchs,  they  sacrifice  their  manhood  for  a 
voice,  and  reduce  onr  poetry  to  be  like  echo,  no- 
thing b\it  sound. 

In  Mr.  Wycherley,  every  thing  is  masculine  ; 
his  Muse  is  not  led  forth  as  to  a  review,  but  as  ti^ 
a  battle ;  not  adorned  for  parade,  but  execution  ; 
he  would  be  tried  by  the  sharpness  of  his  blade, 
and  not  by  the  finery ;  like  your  heroes  of  anti- 
quity, he  charges  in  iron,  and  seems  to  despise  all 
ornament  but  intrinsic  merit ;  and  like  those  he-' 
roes  has  therefore  added  another  name  to  his  own, 
and  by  the  unanimous  consent  of  his  cotempora- 
ries,   is  distincfuished  by  the  just  appellation  of 


Manly  Wycherley. 


umvowNE, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


PELEUS  AND  THETIS. 


?> 


S  clop  9f  thunder;   Jupiter  appears,    deicending 
upon  hit  eagle. 
But  see,  the  mighty  thunderer  's  here ; 

Tremble  Peleiis,  tremble,  fly  ; 
The  thunderer  !  the  mighty  thunderer ! 
TVemble,  Pelens,  tremble,  fly. 

A  full  ckonu  qf  voices  and  instruments  €U  Jupiter 
is  descending. 


But  see,  the  mighty  thunderer  *s  here  j 
Tremble  Peleus,  tremble,  fly ; 

The  thunderer  !  the  mighty  thunderer ! 
Tremble^  Peleus,  tremble,  fly, 

Jupiter  being  descended^ 


Presumptuous  slave,  rival  to  Jove, 

Horn  dar*f(t  thou,  mortal,  thus  defy 
A  goddess  with  audacious  love. 
And  irritate  a  god  with  jealousy  ? 
Presumptuous  mortal — ^hencc— * 
Tremble  at  onmipotence. 


Arm'd  with  love,  and  Thetis  by, 

I  fear  no  odds 

Of  men  oj  gods, 
But  Jove  himself  defy. 
Jove,  lay  thy  thunder  down ; 

Arm'd  with  love,  and  Thetis  by, 
^Tiere  is  more  terrour  in  her  frown. 
And  flercer  lightening  in  her  eye  ^ 

I  fear  no  odds 

Of  men  or  gods. 
But  Jove  himself  defy. 

juprrEa. 

$ring  me  lighfning,  give  me  thunder, 
Haste,  ye  Cyclops,  with  your  forked  rod«, 
This  rebel  Lovp  braves  all  the  gods. 

Bring  me  lightening,  give  me  thunder. 

Peleus  and  Thetis,  holding  fast  by  onf 

fore  may  ktU,  but  ne*er  shall  sunder.    [anotJ^er, 

JUPITER. 

Bring  me  light'mng,  give  me  thunder.. 

PXtBVg   and  THETIS. 

Jove  may  kill,  but  ne'er  shall  sunder. 

THBTi^  to  juprrBa. 
Thy  love  still  arm'd  with  fiite. 
Is  dreadful  as  thy  hate  : 
O  might  it  prove  to  me. 
So  gentle  peleus  were  but  free ; 
O  might  it  prove  to  me 
fa  &tal  as  to  k»t  consuming  Semele  | 
Thy  love  still  arm*d  with  &tc. 
Is  dreadful  as  thy  hate. 

nOMETHEUS  to  JOPfFER. 

Son  of  Saturn,  take  advice 
From  one  whom  thy  severe  decree 

|Ia^  fumish'd  leisure  to  grow  wise : 
Thou  rul*st  the  gods,  but  Fate  rules  tbetk, 

/  [the   PtOPHECT.] 

Whoe'er  th*  immortal  maid  compressing, 
(ball  taste  j^,  and  reap  tbe  blcfsiDgi 


Thus  th'  unerring  stars  advise  i 
From  that  auspicious  night  an  heir  jhaltrisf^ 

Paternal  glories  to  eflface 

The  most  illustrious  of  his  race, 
Tho*  sprang  from  him  who  rules  the  skies. 

JUPITER    [Apart.']  / 
Shall  then  the  son  of  Saturn  be  undone. 
Like  Saturn,  by  an  impious  son  ? 
Justly  th*  impartial  Fates  conspire, 
Dooming  that  son  to  be  the  sire 

Of  such  another  son. 
Conscious  of  ills  that  I  have  done. 
My  fears  to  prudence  shall  advise ; 
And  guilt  that  made  me  great,  shall  make  me  wise. 

The  fatal  blessing  I  resign ; 
Peleus,  take  the  maid  divine : 

[Giving  her  to  Peleus. 
Jove  consenting  she  is  thine ; 
The  faUl  blessing  I  resign. 

[Joins  their  hands, 

PELEVS. 

Heav'n  had  been  lost,  had  I  been  Jove. 
There  U  no  Heav'n,  there  is  no  Heav'n  but  lo^••• 

PELEUS  and  thbtis,  together. 
There  is  no  Heav'n  but  love. 

No,  no,  no. 
There  is  no  Heav'n  but  love. 

JUPITBR  to  PROMETHEUS, 

And  thou,  the  stars  interprtter, 

Tis  just  I  set  thee  free. 

Who  giv'st  me  liberty: 
Arise,  and  be  thy  self  a  star. 

»Tis  just  I  scjt  thee  frep, 

Wno  giv'st  me  liberty. 

[Hie  vulture  dr^s  dead  <^t  the  feet  of  Pro- 
ipctheus,  Ku  chains  drop  off  and  he  is  bornf 
up  t0  Heaven  xath  Jupiter  to  a  loud  fiour 
rish  of  all  the  instruments, 

[Peleus  und  'pietis  run  into  each  others  armsjf 

PELEUS. 

Fly,  fly  to  nrjy  arms,  to  my  arms. 
Goddess  o^  immortal  charms  ! 
To  my  arms,  to  my  arms,  fly,  fly. 
Goddess  of  transporting  joy  ! 

But  t4)  gaze 

On  thy  face. 
Thy  gentle  hand  thus  pressing. 
Is  heav'nly,  heav'niy  blessmg. 

O  my  soul  ! 
Whither,  whither  art  thou  flying  ? 
Lost  in  sweet  tumultuous  dymg. 
Whither,  whither  art  thou  flying, 

O  m^  squl ! 

TRBTIS. 

You  trembla,  Peleus— So  do  I^ 

Ah  stay!  and  we'll  together  die. 

Immortal,  and  of  race  divine. 

My  soul  shall  take  its  flight  with  thhie  : 

Ltfe  disiolving  in  delight, 

Heaving  breasts,  and  swimming  sight, 

Falf  ring  speech,  and  gasping  breath. 

Symptoms  of  delicious  death. 

Life  dissolving  in  delight, 

M}r  s^ul  i|  ready^  for  the  fligl^t. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


40 


LANSDOWNE'S  POEMS. 


Omy  fooL 
Whither,  whither  art  thou  flymg  ? 
Ixxt  ia  sweet  tumultoous  d3nzig, 
Whither,  whither  art  thou  flying, 

O  my  soul ! 

Pblbvi  and  Thitm  botk  together  repeat 

O  my  soul ! 
Whither,  whither  art  thou  flying? 
Lost  in  sweet  tumultuous  d3^rng» 
Whither,  whither  ait  thou  flying, 

O  mytoul ! 

Gboius  qf  oil  the  voices  and  instrumenU,  tinging 
and  dancing. 

When  the  storm  is  blown  over, 

How  blest  is  the  swam. 
Who  begins  to  discover 

An  end  of  his  pain  ! 
When  the  storm,  &c. 

[The  mask  concludes  with  a  variety  i^daneet,'] 


*  THE 

BRITISH  ENCHANTERS  s 

OR, 

KO  MAGIC  LIKE  LOVE, 

A 

Dramatic  Poem. 

WITH 
SCCNEt,  MACHINES,  MUSIC,  Aim  OSCOEATIOKS. 

THE  PREFACE, 

Or  aU  public  spectacles,  that  which  should  pro- 
perly be  called  an  Op£Iu,  is  calculated  to  give  the 
highest  dcii^ht.  There  is  hardly  any  art  but  what 
is  required  to  furnish  towards  the  entertainment ; 
and  tikcre  is  something  or  other  to  be  prorided  that 
may  touch  every  sense,  and  please  every  palate. 

The  poet  h^  a  two-fold  task  upon  his  hands  in 
the  dramatic,  and  the  lyric:  the  architect,  the 
painter,  the  composer,  the  actor,  the  singer,  the 
datfcer,  &c  have  each  of  them  their  several  employ- 
ments in  the  preparation,  and  in  the  execution. 

The  same  materials  indeed,  in  different  hands, 
wilt  have  diflSerent  success;  all  depends  upon  a  skil- 
ful mixture  of  the  various  ingredients :  a  bad  arti^ 
will  make  but  a  meer  hodge-podge  with  the  same 
materials  that  one  of  a  good  taste  shall  prq>are  an 
excellent  oho. 

The  seasoning  most  be  senflo ;  unless  there  is 
wherewithal  to  please  the  understanding,  the  eye 
imd  the  ear  will  soon  grow  tired. 

The  French  opera  is  perfect  in  the  decorations, 
the  dancing,  and  magmficence;  the  Italian  excels 
in  the  music  and  voices;  but  the  drama  falls  short 
in  both. 

An  English  stomach  re<piires  something  solid  and 
substantial,  and  will  rise  hungry  from  a  regale  of 
nothing  but  sweet-meats. 

An  opera  is  a  kind  of  ambigu :  the  tabic  is  finely 
ilkiminatcfl,  adorned  with  flowers  and  fruits,  and 
every  thing  that  the  season  a£brds  fira^rant  or  de- 


ll|^l|kftil  to  the  eve  or  ^e  odour  ^  but  unless  tliere  iw 
something  too  for  the  appetite,  'tis  odds  but  the 
guests  break  tgp  dinatisfied. 

It  is  incumbent  upon  the  poet  akme  to  provide 
for  that,  in  the  choice  of  h»  fable,  the  conduct  of 
his  pkjt,  the  harmony  of  his  numbers,  the  elevatioa 
of  his  sentiments,  and  the  justness  of  his  chaxacteis* 
In  this  consists  the  solid  sind  the  suhstantiaL 

The  nature  of  this  entertainment  requires  the  plot 
to  be  formed  upon  some  story  in  which  entthaxiten 
and  magicians  have  a  principal  part :  in  our  modeni 
heroic  poems,  they  supply  the  place  of  the  gods 
with  the  ancients,  and  make  a  much  more  natural 
appearance  by  being  mortals,  with  the  differeiic«r 
only  of  being  endowed  with  supematurali  power. 

The  characters  should  be  great  and  illustrious  ; 
the  figure  the  actor  makes  upon  Ok  stage  is  one 
part  ojp  the  ornament ;  by  consequence  the  senti- 
ments must  be  suitable  to  the  characters  in  which 
love  and  honour  will  have  the  principal  share. 

The  dialogue,  which  in  the  French  and  Italian  is 
set  to  notes,  and  sung,  I  would  have  pronounced  ; 
if  the  numbers  are  of  thonselves  harmonious,  there 
will  be  no  need  of  music  to  set  them  ofl*;  a  good 
verse,  well  pronounced,  is  in  itself  musical ;  and 
speech  is  certainly  more  natural  for  discourse,  thaa 
singing. 

Can  any  thmg  be  more  prepo^rons  than  to  be- 
hold Cato,  Julius  Ca?sar,  and  Alexander  the  Great, 
strutting  upon  the  stairo  in  the  figure  of  songsters, 
personated  by  eouuchs  ? 

The  singing  tiierefore  should  be  wholly  applied 
to  the  lyncal  part  of  the  entertainment,  which,  by 
being  fretd  from  a  tiresome,  unnatural  recitative, 
must  certainly  administer  more  n^isonabic  pleasure. 

The  several  parts  of  the  entertainment  should  be 
so  suited  to  relieve  one  another,  as  to  be  tedious  in 
none ;  and  the  comiection  should  be  such,  that  not 
one  should  be  able  to  subsist  without  tlie  other ;  like 
embrcpder^,  so  fixt  and  wTous^t  into  ttie  sul  urtauee, 
that  no  part  of  the  ornament  could  be  removed, 
without  tearing  the  stu£ 

To  introduce  singing  and  dancing,  by  head  and 
shoulders,  no  way  relative  to  the  aetion,  does  noi 
turn  a  play  into  an  opera ;  though  that  title  is  now 
promiscuously  given  to  every  feroe  sprinkled  hcie 
and  there  wit^  a  song  and  a  dance. 

The  richest  lace,  ridiculously  set  on,  will  make 
but  a  fool*s  coat. 

I  will  not  take  upon  me  to  criticise  what  has  ap- 
peared of  this  kind  on  the  English  stage  :  me  have 
several  poems  under  the  name  of  Dramatic  Operas 
by  the  best  hands ;  but  in  my  opinion  the  subjects 
for  the  most  part  have  been  improperly  chosen  • 
Mr.  Addison's  Rosamond,  and  Mr.  0>ngre%'c's  Sel 
mele,  though  excellent  in  their  kind,  are  rather 
masques,  than  operas. 

As  I  cannot  help  being  concerned  for  the  honour 
of  my  country,  even  in  the  minutest  things,  I  am 
for  epdcavouring  to  out-do  our  oeighboun  in  per-, 
formances  of  all  kinds. 

TLos  if  the  splendour  of  the  French  opera,  and 
the  harmony  of  the  Italian,  were  so  skilfully  inter* 
woven  with  the  charms  of  poetry,  upon  a  regular 
dramatic  botU>%  as  to  instruct,  aj  well  at  deUffat, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  BRTHSH  ENCHANTERS. 


41 


lo  toprow  the  nbd,  n  veil  as  ravish  the  s^nse, 
tiioe  can  be  no  doubt  but  such  an  addkkm  would 
cotiUe  car  English  oipen,  to  the  preference  of  all 
ocben.  The  third  part  of  the  encoaragement,  of 
vbidk  we  have  been  so  liberal  to  foreigners  for  a 
canoeit  of  music  only,  mis-caU*d  an  opera,  would 
store  than  ^kct  it 

In  the  constnictioo  of  the  following  poem,  the 
puthor  has  endeavoured  to  set  an  example  to  his 
roles;  precepts  are  best  explained  by  examples;  an 
abler  hand  might  have  executed  it  better.  How- 
em-,  it  may  serve  for  a  model  to  be  improved  upon, 
vhen  we  grow  weary  of  scenes  of  low  life,  and  return 
to  a  taste  of  more  generous^  pleasures. 

We  are  reproached  by  foreigners  with  such  tm- 
nstural  irr^ularities  in  our  dramatic  pieces,  as  are 
shocking  to  all  other  nations  ;  even  a  Swiss  has 
pb];^  the  critic  upon  us,  without  considering  they 
are  as  little  approved  by  the  judicious  in  our  own. 
A  strsnger  who  is  ignorant  of  the  language^  and  in- 
capable of  judging  of  the  sentiments,  condemns  by 
the  eye,  and  concludes  what  he  hears  to  be  as  ex- 
trsTagant  as  what  he  sees.  When  CEdipus  breaks 
bis  neck  out  of  a  balcony,  and  Jocasta  appears  in 
her  bed,  murdering  herself  and  her  children,  instead 
of  moving  terrour,  or  compassion,  such  spectacles 
only  fill  the  spectator  with  h6rr^r :  no  wonder  if 
itrangers  are  shocked  at  such  sights,  and  conclude 
ns  a  nation  hardly  yet  civilized,  that  can  seem  feo 
delight  in  them.  T6  remove  this  reproach,  it  is 
much  to  be  wished  our  scenes  were  less  bloody,  and 
the  sword  and  dagger  more  oat  of  foshion.  To 
iDake  some  amends  for  this  exclusion,  I  would  be 
less  severe  as  to  the  rigour  of  some  other  laws 
coaeted  by  the  masters,  though  it  is  ahrmys  ad- 
riseable  to  keep  as  dose  to  them  at  possible  ; 
but  rdbnnatioos  are  not  to  be  brooght  abmit  all  at 
«Dce. 

It  may  happen,  that  the  mture  of  certain  subjects 
proper  for  moving  t^  passions  may  require  a  little 
more  latitude,  and  then,  without  oHenoeto  the  critics, 
sure  there  may  be  room  for  a  sa\'mg  in  equity  from 
the  sevep^  d  the  common  law  df  Parnassus,  as 
veil  as  of  iie  King's  Bench.  To  sacri6oe  a  princi- 
pal beauty,  upoa  which  the  success  of  the  whole  may 
depend,  is  bemg  too  strictly  tied  down ;  in  such  a 
€sie,  SDmmum  jus  may  be  summa  injuria. 

Comeille  himself  complains  of  findii^  his  genras 
fften  cramped  by  his  own  rules :  "  There  is  infinite 
difierence  (sa3rs  he;  between  speculation  and  prac- 
^ :  let  the  severest  critic  msdce  the  trial,  he  will 
be  convinced  by  his  own  experience,  that  upon  cer- 
^  occasions  too  strict  an  adherence  to  the  letter 
of  the  law  shall  exclude  a  bright  Of^Kntunity  of 
lining;,  or  touching  the  passions.  Where  the  brou^h 
»  of  little  moment,  or  can  be  contrived  to  be  as  it 
^^  imperceptible  in  the  representation,  a  gentle 
J^pcnsation  migfat  be  allowed,"  To  those  little 
uivedcnis  he  attributes  the  snocess  of  his  Cid :  but 
the  rigid  legislators  of  the  academy  handled  him  so 
"ooghly  for  it,  that  he  never  durst  make  the  venture 
■p™,  nor  none  who  have  followed  him.  Thus 
PW'Ooed,  the  French  Muse  must  always  flutter,  like 
"  Iwd  with  the  wmgs  cut,  uicapable  of  a  lofty 

JThcjbsiogQe  of  their  tragedief  is  under  the  same 
''^  '~i  m  tti*  ^OQfltTDCtioni  vfi  A  discoozse^  but 


I 


an  oration;  not  speaking,  butdeclahning;  not  free, 
natural,  and  easy,  as  conversation  should  be,  but 
precise,  set,  formal  argumcntin^,  pro  and  con,  liti 
disputants  in  a  school  In  writing,  like  dress,  is  it 
not  possible  to  be  too  exact,  too  starched,  and  too 
formal  ?  Pleasing  negligence  X  have  seen :  who 
ever  saw  pleasing  formality  ? 

In  a  word,  all  extremes  are  to  be  avoided.  T<» 
be  a  French  puritan  in  the  drama,  or  an  English 
Utitudinarian,  is  taking  diflerent  paths  to  be  butl^ 
out  of  the  road.  If  the  British  Muse  is  too  unrulj', 
the  French  is  too  tame  ;  one  wants  a  curb,  the  other 
a  spar. 

By  pleading  for  sonic  little  relaxation  from  the 
utmost  severity  of  the  rules,  where  the  subject  may 
seem  to  require  it,  I  am  not  bespeaking  any  such 
indulgence  for  the  present  performance :  though 
the  ancients  have  left  us  no  pattern  to  follow  of 
this  species  of  tragedy,  I  perceive,  upoa  exami- 
nation,  that  I  haVe  been  attentive  to  tlieir  strictest 


The  unities  are  religiously  observed :  the  place 
is  the  same,  varied  only  into  dilTerent  prospects  by 
the  power  of  enchantment :  all  the  incidents  foil 
naturally  within  the  very  time  of  representation : 
the  plot  is  one  principal  action,  and  of  that  kind 
which  introduces  variety  of  turns  and  changes,  all 
tending  to  the  same  point :  the  ornaments  and  de^ 
corations  are  of  a  piece  with  it,  so  that  one  could 
not  well  subsist  without  the  other :  e^•ery  act  con- 
cludes with  some  unexpected  revolution :  and  in  tlie 
end,  vice  is  punished,  virtue  rewarded,  and  the 
moral  is  instructive. 

Rhyme,  which  I  would  by  no  means  admit  into 
the  dialogue  of  graver  tragedy,  seems  to  me  the 
most  proper  style  for  representations  of  this  heroic 
romantic  kind,  and  best  adapted  to  accompany 
music.  The  solemn  language  of  a  haughty  tyrant 
will  by  no  means  become  a  passionate  lover,  and 
tendiNr  sentiments  require  the  softest  colouring. 

The  theme  must  govern  the  ^le;  every  thought, 
every  character,  every  subject  of  a  different  nature, 
must  speak  a  different  language.  An  humble  lover's 
gentle  address  to  his  mistress  would  rumble  strange- 
ly  in  the  Miltonic  dialect ;  and  the  soft  harmony  of 
Mr.  Waller's  numbers  would  as  ill  become  the 
mouths  of  Lucifer  and  Beebsebub.  The  terrible, 
and  the  tender,  must  be  set  to  different  notes  of 
music. 

To  conclude.  This  dramatic  attempt  was  tlie 
first  essay  of  a  very  infont  Muse,  rather  as  a  task 
at  such  hours  as  were  free  from  other  exercises,  than 
any  way  meant  for  public  entertainmenl :  but  Mr, 
Bettertouy  having  had  a  casual  sight  of  it  many 
years  after  it  was  written,  begged  it  for  the  stage, 
where  it  found  so  favourable  a  receptkm,  as  to  have 
an  uninterrupted  run  of  at  least  forty  daj-s.  The 
separation  of  the  principal  actors,  which  soon  fol- 
lowed, and  the  introduction  of  the  Italian  opera, 
put  a  stop  to  its  farther  appearance. 

Hsul  it  been  composed  at  a  riper  time  of  life,  the 
faults  might  have  lieen  fewer :  however,  upon  re- 
vising it  now,  at  so  great  a  distance  of  time,  with 
a  cooler  judgment  than  the  first  conceptions  of 
youth  will  allow,  1  cant^ot  absolutely  say,  wripsiss* 


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43 


LANSDOWNES  POEMS. 


PJERSOXS  NAMES. 
MEN. 
Citirs,  a  British  kinf^^  father  to  OHftna. 

CoNSTAKTius,  a  Roman  emperor,  designed  for  mar- 
riage with  Oriana. 
Amax>is  OF  Oavl.o  famous  knight  adventurer,  in 
iove  u:ilh  Oriana. 

his    companion,  in  love  with  Cori- 
sanda. 

a  aricked  enchanter,  enemy  to  Amadis. 
a  Roman  of  the  emperor^s  train. 

WOMEN. 
in  love  tvith  Amadis,    but  given    in 

marriage  Ut  Constantius.. 
betrothed  to  Florestan. 
good  enchantress,  friend  to  Amadis. 
sister  to  Arcalau& 
an  attendant  to  Urganda. 

Troops  of  magicians  attending  the  several  enchan- 
ier*%  Knights  and  ladies,  captives.  Men  and 
teomen  attending  the  British  court.  PriestSy  or 
Druid*.  Romans  attending  CoDStantius.  Singer*, 
dancers,  A'c. 

$C£2(E  the  king^s  palace,  and  part*  adjacent,  in- 
habited by  the  different  enchanters. 


Florestan, 

AaCALAUS, 
I.UCIUS, 


Oriana, 

corisanda, 
Urganda, 
Arcabon, 
Delu, 


ACT  L      SCENE  I. 

The  curtain  rises  to  a  symphony  qf  all  sorts  qf  in- 
struments  of  music.  The  scene  represents  an  en- 
chanted  grave,  adomecl  and  beautified  Xi:ith  foun- 
tains, statues,  £^c. 

pi^gaikla  and  Delia  performing  some  solemn  ce- 
remony of  enchantment. 

A  full  stage  qf  singers  and  dancers, 

VRGAN0A. 

©ouND,  sound,  ye  winds,  the  rended  clouds  divide, 
FrigUt  back  the  priest,  ^nd  save  a  trembling  bride. 
Assist  an  injwr'd  lover's  faithful  love  : 
An  inJHr'd  lover's  cause  is  worthy  Jove. 

DELIA. 

Succejssfu!  is  our  charm :  the  temple  shakes. 
The  altar  nods,  th*  astopish'd  priest  forsakes  [side. 
The  hallow'd  shrine,  starts  from  the  bridegroom's 
Breaks  off  the  rites,  and  leaves  the  kpot  uqty'd. 

URGANDA. 

Ye  sweet  musicians  of  the  sky. 
Hither,  hither,  hither,  fly,  fly. 
And  wth  enchanting  notes  all  magic  else  supply. 
[I'rsanda  and  Delia  retire  doian  the  scene,  uaving 
their  enchanted  rods,  as  continuing  the  ceremony. 

Full  chorus  of  instruments  and  voices. 
Sound  the  trumpet,  touch  the  lute. 
Strike  the  lyre,  inspire  the  flute ; 
|n  harmony. 
Celestial  harmony, 
All  magic  cliarms  are  found ; 
Sound  the  trumpet,  sound. 

Iffere  tMst^tuu  leap  from  their  pedestals,  ^form 
variety  of  dances,       • 


Chorus  of  singers  qfter  the  ^nce. 
Music  so  charms,  and  does  so  sweetly  womi^ 
'  That  ev'ry  sense  is  ravish'd  yf\\)\  the  sound, 
A  single  voice^ 

When  nymphs  are  coy. 

And  fly  from  joy, 
The  shepherd  takes  his  reed  | 

He  plays  a  tune. 

She  stops  as  soon, 
And  straight  they  are  agreed* 

The  battle  near. 

When  cowards  fear. 
The  drum  and  trumpet  sounds  j 

Their  cotu-age  warms. 

They  rush  to  arras. 
And  brave  a  thousand  woundf. 

CHORUS. 

By  harmony  our  souls  are  sway'd ; 

By  harmony  the  world  was  made. 

A  second  dance, — Singers  ag(un  advanc^ 

A  single  voice. 
When  with  adoring  looks  we  gaze 
On  bright  Oriana's  heavenly  fecc. 
In  e\''ry  glance,  and  ev'ry  grace, 
WTiat  is  it  that  we  see, 

But  harmony. 
Celestial  harmony ! 
Our  ravish'd  hearts  leap  up  to  meet 
The  music  of  her  eyes. 
The  music  of  her  eyes, 
And  dance  around  her  feet. 

Full  chorus  qf  voices  and  instruments,  as  at  Jirst^ 
Sound  the  trumpet,  touch  the  lute. 
Strike  the  lyre,  inspire  the  flute  ^ 
In  harmony. 
Celestial  harmony. 
All  magic  charms  are  found  ; 
Sound  the  .trumpet,  sound. 

A  third  dance, 
Urganda  and  Delia  come  fomar^ 

VRGANDA. 

This  care  for  Amadis,  ye  gods,  approve. 
For  what 's  a  soldier's  recompence  but  love  ? 
When  forr'd  from  Britain,  call'd  to  distant  war. 
His  vanqulsh'd  heart  remain'd  a  captive  here  ; 
Oriana's  eyes  that  glorious  conquest  made. 
Nor  was  his  love  imgratcfiilly  repaid. 

DELIA. 

By  Arcabon,  like  hostile  Juno,  crost. 
And,  like  .£neas,  driv'n  from  coast  to  coast. 
The  wand'ring  hero  wou'd  return  too  late, 
Charg'd  by  Oriana  with  the  crimes  of  Fat«  j 
Who  anxious  of  neglect,  suspecting  change. 
Consults  her  pride,  and  meditates  revenge. 

VRGANDA. 

Just  in  the  moment,  when  resentment  fires, 
A  charming  rival  tempts,  a  rugged  king  requires  j 
Love  yields  at  last,  thus  combated  by  pride, 
And  she  submits  to  be  the  Roman's  bride. 


Did  not  your  art  with  timely  charms  prork^ 
Oriana  were  hji  wife,  and  not  |us  brid?. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  BRITISH  ENCHANTERS. 


45 


In  ancient  tlmef,  ere  chivalry  was  known 
The  mfont  world  with  monsters  overgrown, 
CentaoTS  and  fciants,  nurst  with  human  blood, 
Jind  dire  magicians,  an  infernal  brogd, 
Vez*d  raf>n  uid  gods :  but  most  the  fair  complain 
Of  violated  loves,  and  lovers  slain. 
To  shdter  innocence,  and  injur'd  right, 
SSie  nations  all  elect  some  patron -knight. 
Sworn  to  be  true  to  love,  and  slaves  to  fame, 
And  many  a  valiant  chief  enrolls  his  name  ; 
By  shining  marks  distinguished  they  appear,' 
AdA  \-arious  orders  various  ensigns  wear. 
Bound  by  strict  oaths,  to  serve  the  brightest  eyes, 
Not  more  they  strive  for  glory,  than  the  prize  ; 
While  to  invite  the  toil,  the  feirest  dame 
Of  Britain  is. the  boldest  champion's  claim. 

IVELIA. 

Of  all  who  hi  this  race  of  fame  delight, 
'Brave  Amadis  is  own'd  the  hardy 'st  knight. 
Nor  Theseus,  nor  Alcides,  ventur'd  more. 
Nor  he  so  fam'd,  who,  bath'd  in  monstei's  gore, 
t'pon  his  crested  helm  the  trampled  dragon  bore. 

CKGAHOA. 

Aldan,  that  black  enchanter,  whose  dire  arts 
JufilarM  our  knights,  and  broke  oar  virgins'  hearts, 
Met  spear  to  spear,  his  great  delivering  hand 
Slew  the  destroyer,  and  redeemed  the  land  ; 
Far  from  thy  breast  all  care  and  grief  remove, 
Oriana's  thine,  by  conquest  as  by  love, 

PELIA. 

But  haughty  Arcabon,  of  Ardan's  blood. 
And  Arcalaus,  foes  alike  to  good, 
Gluttons  in  murder,  wanton  to  destroy. 
Their  fatal  arts  as  impiously  employ : 
Heirs  to  their  brother's  mischiefs,  and  sworn  foes 
To  Amadis,  their  magic  they  oppose 
Afainst  bis  love  and  life. 

UaCAKDA, 

With  equal  care, 
Their  vengeance  to  prevent,  we  thus  prepare. 
Behold  the  time,  when  tender  lo^c  shall  be 
Nor  vext  with  doubt,  nor  prest  with  tyranny. 
The  lore-sick  hero  shall  ftom  camps  remove. 
To  reap  reward  :  the  hero's  pay  is  love. 
The  tasks  of  glory  painful  are,  and  hard, 
But  ah !  how  blest,  how  sweet  is  the  reward  ! 

^  the. retires,  chorus  of  all  the  voices  and  instru- 
ments repeat^ 
Sound  the  trumpet,  touch  the  lute, 
Strike  the  lyre,  in^ire  the  aute| 
In  hannony. 
Celestial  harmony, 
All  magic  charms  are  found  | 
j^pmid  the  trampet,  sound. 


SCENE   IL 


7jk«  Soen^  changtt  to  ike  inside  nf  a  magnificent 
temple,  KingCeWnty  and  the  British  court, 
Men  and  nomen  magrnficently  dressed  in  painted 
dibits f  after  the  ancient  manner.  The  priests  and 
dru'tds  in  their  solemnities,  seeming  in  eonfujion, 
'^iPhcittg  ifietr  idols,  «nd  t/tUing  their  a^s  in 


order.  Thunder  and  Itghtening,  In  thefmsoJ^ 
timcy  Constantius,  Oriana,  and  Corisaoda,  coisf 
funuardm 

CONSTANTIUS. 

I^vEBs  consult  not  stars,  nor  search  the  sSdei, 
But  seek  their  sentence  in  their  charmer's  eyet. 
Careless  of  thunder  from  the  cloudt?  that  t^ressk^ 
My  only  omens  from  your  looks  I  take ; 
When  my  Oriana  smih";,  from  thence  I  date 
My  future  hope  ;  and  when  she  frowns,  my  fete; 

on  IAN  A. 

Cease,  prince,  the  anger  of  the  godsrto  move^ 
Tis  now  become  a  crime  to  mention  love. 
Our  holy  men  interpreting  the  voice 
Of  Heaven  in  wrath,  forewarn  th'  iU-omen'd  choice, 

CONSTANTroS. 

Strange  rules  for  constancy  your  priests  denB% 
If  love  and  hate  must  rary  with  your  skies. 
From  such  vile  servitude  set  reason  free  ; 
The  gods  in  every  circumstance  agree 
To  stiit  our  union,  pointing  out  to  me  ; 
In  this  right  hand  the  sceptre  that  they  place. 
For  me  to  guide,  was  meant  for  you  to  grace. 
Thou  best  and  fairest  of  the  beauteous  lund. 
Accept  that  empire  which  the  gods  design'd. 
And  be  the  charming  mistress  of  mankind. 

CORISANOA. 

Niq>tlals  of  form,  of  interest,  or  of  state. 
Those  seeds  of  pride,  are  fruitful  in  debate  ; 
Let  happy  men  for  generous  love  declare. 
And  choose  the  gentle  virgm,  chaste,  and  feirs 
liCt  women  to  superior  fortune  bom. 
For  naked  virtue,  all  temptations  scorn ; 
The  charm 's  immortal  to  a  gallant  mind. 
If  gratitude  cement  whom  love  has  join'd. 
And  Providence,  not  niggardly,  but  wise. 
Here  lavishly  bestows,  and  there  denies. 
That  by  each  other's  virtue  we  may  rise. 
Weak  the  bare  tie  of  man  and  wife  we  find. 
But  friend  ^nd  benefector  always  bind. 

The  King  advances,  followed  by  priests  and  trmn^ 

KING. 

Our  priests  recover :  Twas  a  holy  cheat  j 
Lead  back  the  bride,  the  ceremonies  wait. 

ORIANA. 

What  Heaven  forbids 


Twas  ignorance  of  my  will. 
Our  priests  are  better  Uught :  what  now  is  ill. 
Shall,  when  I  please,  be  gmxl  j  and  none  shall  dara 
Preach  or  expound,  but  what  their  king  would  hear. 
[Priests  bow  profoundly  low. 
Ere  they  interpret,  let  'em  mark  my  nod. 
My  voice  their  thunder,  this  right  arm  their  god. 

{lAJoJiing  sternly  at  *em,  they  bow  again  as  b^ore* 
Prince  take  your  bride, 

ORUNA. 

Tvere  impious  now  to  suffer  him  my  hand. 

[Housing  her  hand^ 

KING. 

How  dar'st  thon  disobey,  when  I  command  ? 
Mind,  mind  her  not,  nor  be  disturb'd  at  teari, 
A  counterfeited  qnalm  of  bridal  feara: 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


44 


LANSDOWNE'S  POEMS. 


You  *d  sec,  could  you  her  inward  motions  watcb, 
Fcigninjj  delay,  she  wishes  for  dis]>atch ; 
Into  a  woman's  meaning  would  you  look. 
Then  read  her  backward,  like  a  wizard's  book. 
Piieste,  to  your  charge — back  to  your  office  go, 

[^Spoken  xeith  a  ttern,  imperitnu  air.     PrietU 
retire,  obsequiously  boxcing,  as  before, 

ORIANA. 

Th'  obedience  that  is  due,  and  which  I  owe. 
Dread  sir,  shall  ever  be  observed  by  qie ; 
It  is  not  to  dispute  your  high  decree 
That  thus  1  kneel,  but  humbly  to  implore 
One  moment's  short  suspence ;    I  own  your  power, 
And  I  submit     Grant  but  this  small  delay. 
And  ms  the  prince  decides,  Oriana  shall  obey. 
coNtTAinnos. 

I  have  no  will  but  what  your  eye*  ordaioi 
Pcstin'd  to  love,  as  they  are  doom'4  to  reigOt 
KING.     [Aside. 

Into  what  hands,  ye  gods  !  have  ye  resigned 
Your  world  ?  Are  these  the  masters  of  mankind  ? 
Tliese  supple  Romans  teach  our  women  scorn ; 
I  thank  ye,  gods,  that  I  *m  a  Briton  bom. 
{To  them.^  .-^gree  these  trifles  in  a  short  debate. 
No  more  dela>'s;  1  am  not  us*d  to  wait. 

[King  Celius  retires  back  into  the  temple, 

Oriana,  Constantius,  and  Corisanda;  qfter  a 
short  pause. 


Your  stars  and  mine  have  chosen  yon,  to  prove 
The  noblest  way  how  generous  men  should  love  ; 
All  boast  their  flames,  but  yet  no  wonaan  ^nd 
A  passion,  where  self-love  was  not  the  ground. 
Slaves  we  are  made,  by  false  pretences  caught. 
The  Briton  in  my  soid  disdains  the  thought, 

CONSTAKnUS. 

So  much,  so  tenderly  your  slave  adores, 
He  has  no  thought  of  happiness,  but  yours^ 

OBIAMA. 

Vows  maybe  feigned,  nor  shall  mere  words  prevail, 
I  must  have  proofe,  but  proofs  that  cannot  fail. 
By  arms,  \iy  honour,  and  by  all  that 's  dear 
To  heroes,  or  expecting  lovers,  swear. 

CONSTANTIUS, 

Needs  there  an  oath  ?  and  can  Oriana  say. 
Thus  I  command,  and  doubt  if  I  *11  obey  ? 

ORIANA* 

Prepare  then,. prince,  to  bear  a  secret  told. 
WHiich  shame  wotUd  shun,  and  blushing  I  unfold. 
But  dangers  pressing,  cowards  will  grow  bold  ; 
Know — then^-I  love. 

coMSTAKTius.      [£cg«rfy. 

Can  you  command  despair,  yet  love  confess  ? 
Apd  curse  with  the  same  breath  with  which  you  bless  } 

OKI  ANA,    {disdainfully  putting  Arm  Ojf, 

Mistake  me  not — that  I  do  love,  is  true. 
But  flatter  not  yourself,  it  is  not  ^ou.  ^ 
coNSTANTius,      [Sfortiug, 

Forbid  it,  gods !  recall  the  fkUl  breath 
'\^'hlch  QK>k£  that  word,  the  louiid  is  instant  d^ith. 


eauMA. 
Too  late  to  be  recalled,  or  to  dtny,    ' 
I  own  the  fatal  truth— 4f  one  most  die. 
You  are  the  judge ;  say,  is  it  you— or  I  } 
A  messenger  from  ths  tempU, 

MSSSEKCEm. 

The  king  is  much  displeased  at  this  delay. 
CONSTANTIUS,  yjcalking  about  ina\ 
And  let  him  wait,  while  'tis  my  wiU  to  stay. 

OftlANA* 

Bear  back  a  gentler  answer :  we  'H  obey. 

lEjiit  pussfnger, 

CONSTANTIUS, 

Hence  ev«ry  sound  that 's  eilfttr  soft,  or  kind; 

0  for  a  war  like  that  within  my  mind ! 
Say,  flatterer,  say,  ah  I  fair  deluder,  speak. 
Answer  me  this,  ere  yet  my  heart  shall  br^; 
Since  thus  engag'd,  you  never  could  intend 
Your  love,  why  was  I  flatter'd  with  your  hand  I 

oauNA. 
To  what  a  &ther  and  a  king  thmks  fit, 
A  daughter  and  a  subject  must  submit. 
Think  not  from  tyranny  that  love  can  groir; 

1  am  a  slave,  and  yon  have  made  me  so. 
Those  chains  which  duty  hath  put  on,  reniotv| 
Slaves  may  obey,  but  they  can  never  lore. 

CONSTANTIUS. 

Cruel  Oriana,  much  you  wroqg  my  flame. 
To  think  that  I  could  lay  so  harsh  a  daim. 
Love  is  a  subject  to  hhnself  alone. 
And  knows  no  other  empire  but  his  own ; 
No  ties  can  bind,  which  from  constraint  arise^ 
Where  either  's  forc'd,  all  obligatioD  dies. 

0  fatal  law  !  requiring  to  resign 

The  object  lov'd ;  or  hated,  keep  her  mine. 

OiiANA.     [Soothingly. 
Accuse  me  not  of  hate ;  with  equal  eyes 

1  judge  your  merit,  and  your  virtue  prise : 
Friendship,  esteem,  be  yours ;  bereft  before 
Of  all  my  love,  what  can  I  offer  more  ? 
Your  rival's  image  in  yoor  worth  I  view. 
And  what  I  lov'd  m  bun,  esteem  in  you ; 

Had  your  complaint  been  flnt,  it  might  have  movVI} 
He  then  had  been  esteemed,  and  you  bcIovM : 
Then  blame  me  not,  since  what  decides  your  hte. 
Is  that  you  pleaded  last,  and  came  too  late. 

CQPISANDA. 

Hard  fate  of  merit !  Fortune  holds  the  scale. 
And  still  throws  in  the  weight  that  must  pre\-ail ! 
Your  rival  is  not  of  more  charms  possest, 
A  grain  of  be^er  luck  has  made  h^m  blest. 

CONSTANTIUS.       [^mfe. 

To  love,  aod  have  the  power  to  possess. 
And  yet  resign,  can  Nature  yield  to  this : 
Shall  Natutci,  erring  from  her  first  command, 
Self-preseiration,  fall  by  her  o«m  hand  ? 
By  tM^  own  sM:t,  the  springs  of  life  destroy. 
The  prindplts,  and  behig  of  her  joy  ^ 
Tormenting  thought  1  Can  Nature  then  appiov« 
Blessings  obtained,  by  cursing  those  we  love. 
Possessing,  she  is  lost— renounong — I —  [die. 

Whei^  's  Umq  the  doubt  JE-'Die,  4ie»  CowtantioH 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  BRITISH  £NCHANT£ltS. 


45 


Honour,  and  Love,  ye  tynuift3, 1  obey, 
Wbere-e'er  your  ernel  call  direeis  my  way  ; 
To  shame,  to  chains,  or  to  a  certahi  gnxe, 
Lead  on,  uopityix^  pndc9    beheld  your  sUtcw 


TlMNigli  lore  be  wanUng  to  relieve  yoor  care, 
dory  nay  make  amends,  with  fame  in  war ; 
Hoooor  *s  the  aoblesl  cbaoe,  pursue  that  ii^aiiie, 
And  rBCom)9en8e  the  loss  of  love  with  fame  ; 
If  still  against  such  aids  your  love  nrc\'ails. 
Yet  absence  is  a  cure  that  seldom  foils. 

eoKSTAirrrus. 

Tynmac  Hsnonr !  what  amends  canst  thou 
E'er  make  my  heart,  by  flattering  my  brow  ? 
Vain  race  of  famfi^  unles  the  conquest  pro¥« 
In  search  of  beauty,  to  conclude  in  love. 
Frail  hope  of  aids !  for  time  or  chance  to  give. 
That  lore,  which,  spite  of  cruelty,  can  live ! 
From  your  disdain,  since  no  relief  I  find, 
I  must  love  absent,  whom  I  love  unkind ; 
Though  seas  divide  us,  and  though  moimtains  part, 
Hiat  fatal  form  will  ever  haunt  my  heart. 
O  dire  reverse  of  hojse,  which  I  endure, 
From  sure  possession,  to  despair  as  sure  I 
Farewel,  Oriana — ^yet,  ere  I  remove, 
Can  you  refase  one  tear  to  bleeding  love  } 
Ah !  no,  take  heed— tarn,  turn  those  eyes  sway. 
The  charm  's  so  strong,  I  shall  for  ever  stay. 
Princes,  rejoice*— 4br  your  next  news  shall  be, 
Cotantius  diet    to  set  Oriana  free. 

[Exeunt  severally. 


ACT  IL       SCENE   t 

Tie  Scene,  a  thick  wooded  forett,  the  treet  loaded 
toitk  military  entigns  and  trophies,  A  rich  pa^ 
wlion  makes  the  point  of  view  at  the  further  end* 

Arcalaus  and  Arcabon. 


EscHANTfiEss,  say — whenee  such  repCetf  as  these  ? 
Thou  answer^st  love,  I  speak  of  Amadis. 


Swiftly  he  pass'cl,  and,  as  in  sport  pursu'd 
The  savage  herd,  and  scowerM  through  the  wood  ; 
Tigers  and  wolves  in  vain  his  stroke  withstand. 
Out  down,  like  poppies,  bythe  reaper's  hand  ; 
Like  Mars  he  luok'd,  as  terrible  and  strong ; 
like  Jove,  majestic  ;  like  ApoUo,  young. 
With  an  their  attributes  divinely  grac'd, 
lod  sure  their  thunder  in  his  arm  was  plac'dL 

AKCALAU9. 

Whopass'd?  Wholook'd?    , 


Ah!  there 's  the  fatal  wound, 
Which  tears  my  heart-strings— but  he  sbaU  be 
Tesj.ye  infema]s,.if  there  's  power  in  ait,  [found ; 
Tboe  arms  shall  hoM  him,  as  he  grasps  my  heart, 
Sball  I,  who  can  draw  down  the  Sfoon,  and  keef 
^  stars  confined,  enchant  the  boisterous  deep, 
Bid  Boreas  hah,  make  hiQs  and  forqfH  mote, 
ten  I 


AICALAUS. 

Be  made  a  whining  fool  to  love  7 
Suspend  these  follies,  and  let  rage  surmouM, 
A  brother's  death  requires  a  strict  account ; 
To  day,  to  day,  perhaps  this  very  hour. 
This  moment,  now,  the  murdVer  *8  in  our  powV* 
I.eave  I»vc  in  cottages  and  cells  to  reign, 
With  n3rmphs  obscure,  and  with  the  lowly  swain  ; 
^Vho  wasto  their  days  and  strength  m  such  short 
Are  fools,  who  barter  Me  and  fame  for  toys,    [joys 

ARCABON. 

They're  fools  who  preach  we  waste  dur  days  and 
strength. 
What  is  a  life,  whose  only  charm  is  length  ; 
Give  me  a  life  that's  short,  aud  wing'd  with  joy, 
A  life  of  love,  whose  minutes  never  cloy  : 
What  is  an  age  m  dull  renown  drudg'd  o'er ; 
One  little  single  hour  of  love  is  more.     . 

An  attendant  enters  hastily,  and  whlspen  ArcalamL 

AaCALAVS. 

See  it  performM — and  thou  shaft  be, 
Black  minister  of  Hell^a  god  to  me. 

[Attendant  Jlies  away  through  (he  air* 
He  ooiiies,  he  comes,  just  ready  to  be  oangfat, 
Here  Axdsai  foil,  here,  on  this  fotal  spot 
Our  brother  dy»d ;  here  ftow'd  that  precious  gore. 
The  purple  flc«d,  swhich  cries  aloud  fbr  more : 
Think  on  that  image,  see  him  on  the  gitnind. 
His  life  and  feme  both  bury'd  in  one  wound  : 
Thmk  on  the  murtherer,  with  insulting  pride 
Tearing  the  weapon  from  his  bleeding  side ; 
Oh  thmk 

ARCA«ON. 

What  need  these  bloody  nnages  to  move  ? 
Revenge  I  will,  and  ronld  secure  my  love : 
Why  should  I  of  a  frailty  shameful  be, 
From  winch  no  qiortal  yet  was  ever  free  ? 
Not  fierce  Medea,  mistress  of  our  art. 
Nor  Circe,  nor  Calypso  'scap*d  the  smart 
If  Hell  has  power,  both  paadons  I  will  please. 
My  vengeance  and  my  love  shall  both  have  ease 
lead  on,  m^ician,  make  revenue  secure, 
My  hand  »8  as  ready,  and  8hall"strike  as  sure. 

[They  go  of, 

Oriana  and  (MsasidsL  entering  from  the  hwer  pat^ 
<lf  the  scene, 

OKIANA. 

Thrioe  happy  they,  who  thus  ii^  silent  grovc^ 
From  courts  retired,  possess  their  peaceful  lovev 
Of  royal  maids,  how  wretched  is  the  fete. 
Bom  only  to  be  victims  of  the  state ; 
Our  hopes,  our  wishes,  all  our  passions  ty*d 
For  public  use ;  the  slaves  of  others  pride. 
Here  let  us  wait  th'  event ,  on  which  alone 
Dq>ends  my  peace,  I  tremble  till  'tis  known. 

CORISAKDA. 

So  generous  this  emperor's  love  does  seem, 
TVould  justify  a  change,  to  change  for  him, 

ORfANA. 

Alas!  thoaknow*st  not  men,  their  oaths,  and  ar^ 
Of  feigning  troth,  with  treason  in  their  hearts. 
Who  now  »s  adored,  may  the  next  hour  displease. 
At  first  their  cure,  and  after  their  disease 

[flourish  of  music  as  in  thefore^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


46 


UNSDOWNES  POtMS. 


eoitrsAVDA. 

Oft  we  hare  Iieard'such  airy  sounds  as  these 
Salnte  us  as  we  pass. 

£nter  several  of  Arcalaus*  magicians  singing  and 
'dancings  representing  shepherds,  shepherdesses, 
and  paisans. 

A  shepherdf  singing. 
Follow  ye  nymphs  and  shepherds  all, 
Come  celebrate  the  festival. 
And  merrily  sing,  and  sport,  and  play. 
For  'tis  Oriana's  nuptial  day. 

A  dance   of  shepherds  and  shepherdesses.      Then  a 
shepherdess,  addressing  to  Oriana,  sings. 

Queen  of  Britain,  and  of  love. 
Be  happy  as  the  blest  above ; 
Graces  numberless  attend  thee, 
The  gods  as  many  blessings  send  thee  : 
Be  happy  as  the  blest  above. 
Queen  of  Britain,  and  of  love. 

A  rural  dance  of  pa't'sans. 

[Exeunt  dancing* 

ORIAHA. 

Preposterons  nuptials  !  that  fill  every  breart 
With  joy,  but  only  her's  who  should  be  bkst 

CORISAKDA. 

Sore  some  magician  keeps  his  revels  here : 
Pkincess  retire,  there  may  be  danger  near. 

[^Flourish  qfsqft  music  at  a  distance. 

OBIANA. 

What  danger  in  such  gentle  notes  can  be  ? 
Thou  friend  to  love,  thrice  powerful  harmony, 
ni  follow  thee,  play  on- 
Music  *8  the  balm  of  love,  to  charm  despair. 
Suspends  the  smart,  and  softens  every  care- 

lExeunl  down  the  scene,  following  the  music, 

Arcalans  enters  with  an  attendant,  observing  them 
as  theif  walk  down  into  the  forest. 

ARCAtAUS. 

Fmish  the  rest,  and  then  be  free  as  air : 
My  eyes  ne'er  yet  beheld  a  form  so  fair. 
Happy  bevowl  my  wish,  I  go  to  prove 
At  once,  the  joj*s  of  sweet  revenge  8nd  love. 

IfValks  down  the  scene  qfter  them. 

Enter  Amadis  and  Florestan. 

AMADIS. 

Mistake  me  not— no— Amadis  shaU  die. 
If  she  is  pleas'd.  but  not  disturb  her  joy  ; 
Kice  honour  still  engages  to  requite 
False  mistres«^,  and  friends,  with  slight  for  slight: 
But  if,  like  mine,  the  stubborn  heart  retain 
A  wilful  tenderness,  the  brave  must  feign. 
In  private  grief,  but  with  a  oareless  scorn 
In  public,  seem  to  triumph,  not  to  mourn. 

FLORESTAN. 

Hard  is  tjie  task,  in  love  or  grief,  to  feign ; 
When  passion  is  sincere,  it  will  complain  : 
Doubts  which  from  rumour  rise,  you  slHmld  suspend; 
From  evil  tongues  what  virtue  can  defend  ? 
In  love,  who  injures  by  a  rash  distrust, 
li  the  aggressor,  and  the  first  unjust. 


If  she  is  true,  why  all  this  nuptial  noSt^y 
Still  echoing  as  we  pass  her  guilty  joys  ? 
Who  to  a  woman  trusts  his  peace  of  mind. 
Trusts  a  frail  ba^k,  with  a  tempestuous  wind. 
Thus  to  Ulysses,  on  the  Stygian  coast 
His  fate  inquiring,  spake  Atrides'  ghost ; 
*'  Of  all  the  plagues  with  which  the  world  is  conC^ 
Of  every  ill,  a  woman  is  the  worst ; 
Trust  not  a  woman." — Well  niight  h*  adVise, 
\^lio  perish'd  by  his  wife's  aduHeries^r 

FtORESTAN. 

Thus  in  despair,  what  most  we  love,  we  wrongv 
Not  Heaven  escapes  the  impious  atheist's  tongue^ 

AMADfS. 

Fnticinsr  crocodiles,  whose  tea»  are  death, 
S^nrens,  who  murder  with  enchanting  breath : 
Like  Egypt's  temples,  dazzling  to  the  sight. 
Pompously  deck'd,  all  gaudy,  gay,  and  bright ; 
With- glittering  gold,  and  iparkling  gems  they  shme. 
But  apes  and  monkies  are  the  gods  within. 
rLomarTAN. 

My  love  attends  with  pain,  while  yoo  panne 
This  angry  theme  ;«— I  have  a  mistieas  too  i 
The  faultless  form  no  secret  stains  disgrace^ 
A  beauteous  mind  unblemish'd  as  her  face  ; 
Not  painted  and  adom'd  to  varnish  sin. 
Without  all  Bitgei,  all  divme  within ; 
By  truth  maintaining  what  by  love  flhe  got ; 
A  heaven  without  a  cloud,  a  sun  without  a  spot. 
AMADIS.      [Embracing  Jam* 

Forgive  the  visions  of  my  frantick  brain. 
Far  fi^  the  man  I  love  be  all  such  pain  : 
By  the  immortal  gods  I  swear,  my  friend. 
The  Fates  to  me  no  greater  joy  could  send. 
Than  that  your  labours  meet  a  prosperous  end. 
Af^cf  so  many  glorious  toils,  that  you 
Have  found  a  mistress  beautiful  and  true. 

ORIANA  and  coRisANDA.     [IVitkouu 
Help,  help,  oh  !  Heavens,  help 

AMADIS. 

What  criea  arc  these  ? 

FLORESTAN.. 

It  seem'd  the  call  of  Beauty  in  distress. 
Of  sa\'age  beasts  and  men,  a  monstrous  brood 
Possess  this  land*—— 

ORIANA    and  CORISANDA. 

Help,  help 

AMADIS. 

Again  the  cry  *s  renewM. 
Draw  both  our  swords,  aud  fly  with  speed  to  safe; 
Th'  oppress'd  have  a  sure  refuge  in  the  brave. 

[Exeunt,  drawing  their  swords* 
Oriana  and  Corisanda  cross  the  stage,  pursued  5y  a 
party  qf  Arcalaus'  magicians, 

ORIANA   and  CORISAMDA. 

Help,  help 

PARTY-. 

Pursue,  pursno 

Florestan  crosses  the  stage  following  the  pfini^ 
An^us  fghting  and  retreating  b^ifte  Aioadit. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  BRITISH  BNCHANTERS. 


47 


AftCALAVt. 

Hmni  rta'st  upon  thy  fate :  mcMtal  foif>ear, 
A  more  than  mortal  rules  the  regioiis  here. 

AMADIS. 

Think  not  my  tword  shall  give  the  least  reprieve^ 
Twere  cruelty  to  let  such  monsterB  lire. 
Floicstan  re-enUri  retreating  before  another  party ^ 
it  seized^  disarmed^  and  carried  off. 

AUCALAVt. 

Yet  pause,  and  be  advb'd ;  avoid  thy  fete ; 
li^Ttbout  thy  life,  my  vengeance  is  complete : 
^boU  thy  fnend  boime  to  eternal  chains, 
JUmembcT  Aiiian  now,  and  count  thy  gains. 

AMADlS. 

Like  Ardan's  be  thy  fete,  unpitied  fell : 
Thus  I  'U  at  ooce  revenge,  and  free  them  alL 
Fi^y  Arcalaus  still  retreating.       A  sudden  sound 
ef  imstrmments  expressing  terrour  and  korrour,  with 
thunder  at  the  same  time.     Monsters  and  demons 
rite  from  under  the  stage,  while  others  Jfy  down 
from  above  crossing  to  and  fro  in  confusion,  during 
tckieh  the  stage  is  darkened.      Ofi  a  sudden  a 
fomrish  of  contrary  music  succeeds  ;  the  sky  clears, 
and  the  whole  scene  changes  to  a  delightful  vale, 
Amadis  appearing  leaning  on  his  sword,  surround' 
-H  by  shepherds  and  shepherdesses,  who  with  songs, 
music  and  dances,  perform  the  following  enchant- 
'     9enL 

To  be  sung  in  full  chorus. 
Love,  creator  Love,  appear. 

Attend  and  bear; 
Appear,  appear,  appear. 

A  single  voice, 
Ixjvc,  creator  Jxrre, 
Parent  of  Heaven  and  Earth, 

Delight  of  gods  above  $ 
To  thee  all  nature  owes  her  birth  ;     • 
Love,  creator  Love, 

Another  single  voice. 
^  thatin  ambient  air  does  mojm. 

Or  teems  on  fertile  fields  below. 
Or  sparkles  in  the  skies  above. 

Or  does  in  rolling  waters  flow, 
4^ng  from  the  seeds  which  thou  dost  iow^ 

Une,  creator  Love. 
cHoauf. 
Better  in  love  a  slavo  to  be. 
Than  with  the  widest  empire  free. 

AAMCE. 

ODl  TO  oucoiin* 

A  nitgle  toice, 
Whea  Love's  away  then  Discord  reigm. 
The  Furies  he  unchains. 
Bids  JEolas  unbind 
The  northern  wind, 
Thst  fetter'd  lay  in  caves, 
And  nxA  up  trees,  and  plough  the  plams : 

Old  Ocean  firets  and  raves, 
from  their  deep  roots  the  rocks  he  tean. 
Wide  deluges  lets  fly. 
That  dash  against  the  sky. 
And  seem  to  drown  the  stars; 


Th'  assaulted  clouds  return  the  shodt. 
Blue  light'nings  singe  the  waves. 
And  thunder  rends  the  rock. 
Then  Jove  usurps  his  fether's  crown. 

Instructing  mortals  to  aspire  ; 
The  fether  would  destroy  the  son. 

The  son  dethiunes  the  sire. 
The  Titans,  to  r^am  their  right. 
Prepare  to  try  a  second  Fight, 
Briareus  arms  his  hundred  hands, 
And  marches  forth  the  bold  gigantic  bandi. 
Pelion  upon  Ossa  thrown. 
Steep  Olympus  they  invade, 

Gods  and  giants  tuml>le  down. 
And  Mars  is  foiled  by  Eocclade. 
Horror,  confusion,  dreadful  ire. 
Daggers,  poison,  sword  and  fire, 
To  execute  the  destined  wrath  conspires 
The  Furies  loose  their  snaky  rods. 
And  lash  both  men  and  gods. 

Chorus  repeat  the  last  stanza^ 
Then  Symphony  for  Love. 

A  single  voice. 

Bnt  when  liove  bids  Discord  cease. 

The  jarring  seeds  unite  in  peace  ; 

O  the  pleasures  past  expressing  ! 

O  the  rapture  of  possessing ! 

Melting,  djing,  heavenly  blessing, 

O  the  rapture  of  possessing ! 

Hail  to  Love,  and  welcome  joy ! 

HaU  to  the  delicious  boy  ! 
In  Csrprus  first  the  god  was  known, 

Then  wandering,  wandering  o*erthe  maiV 

He  in  Britannia  fix'd  his  reign. 
And  in  Oriana's  eyes  his  throne. 
A  full  chorus. 

Hail  to  Love,  and  welcome  joy  ! 

Hail  to  the  delicious  boy ! 

See  the  Sun  from  Love  returning. 

Love  *s  the  flame  in  which  he 's  burning. 

Hail  to  love,  the  softest  pleasure ; 

Love  and  Beauty  reign  for  ever. 


TTien  to  be  sung  by   a    shepherdess  addressing  her* 
self  lo  Amadis. 
Now  mortal  prepare, 

For  thy  fate  is  at  hand ; 
Now  mortftl  prepare, 
Andsurmdcr. 
For  Love  shall  arise. 

Whom  no  power  can  withstand. 
Who  rules  from  the  skies 

To  the  centre. 
Now  mortal  prepare, 

For  thy  fete  is  at  hand  ; 
Now  mortal  prepare. 
And  surrender. 
Cboius  repeat, 
"Saw  mortal  prepare,  kc. 

During  the  chorus,  Oriana  appears  rhing  from  uii« 
der  the  stage,  reposed  upon  a  machine  represent^ 
ing  a  bed  cf  f  otters.  The  chorus  ended,  she 
rises,  and  comes  forward. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


M 


LAKSDOWNE'S  VOtStS. 


Id  what  enchanted  regions  am  I  lost 
Am  I  alive  >  Or  wander  here  a  ghost  > 
Art  thou  too  dead  ? — [SUtrt*  at  the  tight  qfAmadiM. 


Where-e*er  you  are,  the  realms  of  bliss  must  btj 
I  see  my  goddess,  and  'tis  heaven  to  see. 

[Throwing  away  hit  ttvord^  it  teized  and  bound* 
Stand  off,  and  give  me  way 


No,  keep  him  there, 
Tb'  ungrateful  traitor,  let  him  not  come  neox' : 
Convey  the  wretch  where  Sisjrphus  atones 
For  crimes  enormous,  and  where  Tityiis  groans. 
With  robbers,  and  with  murd'rers  let  him  prove 
Immortal  pains— for  he  has  munler'd  love. 

AMADIS, 

Have  I  dome  this  ?— 

OaiAHA* 

Base  and  per6dious  man ! 
Let  me  be  heard,  and  answer  if  you  can. 
Was  it  your  lo\'e,  when  trembling  by  your  side 
1  wept,  and  I  implor'd,  and  almost  dy'd. 
Urging  your  stay :  Was  it  your  love  that  bore 
Your  faithless  vessel  fhm  the  British  shore  ? 
What  said  I  not,  upon  the  ftital  night 
"When  you  avow*d  your  meditated  flight  ? 
Was  it  your  love  that  prompted  you  to  part, 
To  leave  me  dying,  and  to  break  my  heart  } 
See  whom  you  fled,  inhuman  and  ingrate. 
Repent  your  folly—but  repent  too  late. 

AMADIS. 

Mistaken  princess ;  by  the  stars  above, 
Tlte  powers  below,  and  by  immortal  Jove 
Unwillhig  and  compelPd 

OaiAHA. 

UnwilVng  and  compelPd  !  vain,  vain  pretence 
For  base  neglect,  and  cold  mdifierence 
Was  it  your  love,  when  by  those  stars  above, 
Tliose  powers  below,  and  that  Immortal  Jove, 
You  vow*d,  before  the  first  revolving  Moon, 
You  would  return  ?^Did  you  return  ? — The  Sun 
Thrice  rouild  the  circled  globe  was  seen  to  move. 
You  neither  came,  nor  sent— was  this  your  tovB  ? 

AMADIS. 

Thric^  has  that  Sun  beheld  me  on  your  ooas!. 
By  tempest  beaten,  and  in  shipwrecks  lost 

OtUHA. 

And  yet  you  chose  tfaoae  perils  of  the  tea. 
Of  rocks,  and  storms-^or  any  thing    but  me. 
The  raging  ocean,  and  ttie  winter  wind. 
Touched  at  my  passion,  with  my  wishes  join'd. 
No  image,  but  of  certain  fate,  appeared* 
Less  I  your  absence,  than  your  danger,  fear'd; 
In  vain  they  threatened,  axid  I  sued  in  vtaxk. 
More  deaf  than  storms,  more  cruel  than  the  main; 
No  prayer,  nor  gentle  message  could  prevail 
To  wait  a  calmer  sky,  or  softer  gale ; 
You  brav*d  the  danger,  and  ^espa^d  the  love, 
Nor  death  could  terrify,  nor  pasinon  move. 

AMADIS. 

Of  our  inst  lives,  the  pleasore,  and  tbc  piao» 
Tix'd  in  my  sool,  for  ever  ihail  remain. 


Recall  more  gently  ny  Qnlitppy  8iai«, 

And  change  my  crime,  not  on  my  choice,  hut  §U/&  s 

In  mortal  breast,  si/re,  honour  never  wag'd 

So  dire  a  war,  nor  love  more  fiercely  rag*d : 

You  saw  my  torment,  and  you  knew  my  beait^ 

TwBS  infomy  to  stay,  twas  death  to  jtart. 

OaiANA. 

In  vain  you  M  cover,  with  the  thirst  of  fsm^ 
And  honour's  call,  an  odious  traitor's  name : 
Could  honour  such  vile  perfidy  approve  ? 
Is  it  no  honour  to  be  true  to  love  f 
O  Venus  !  parent  of  the  Trojan  race. 
In  Britain  too,  some  renmants  found  a  place  ; 
From  Brute  descending  in  a  line  direct. 
Within  these  veins  thy  favourite  Uood  respect ; 
Mother  of  Love,  by  men  and  gods  rever'd. 
Confirm  these  vows,  and  let  this  prayer  be  hesrd. 
The  Briton  to  the  Gaul  hencefbrth  shall  bear 
Immortal  hatred,  and  eternal  war ; 
Nor  league,  nor  commerce,  let  the  nations  kaom. 
But  seeds  of  everlasting  discord  grow ; 
With  fire  and  sword  the  faithless  race  pursue. 
This  vengeance  to  my  injured  love  is  due : 
Rise  from  our  ashes  some  avenging  hand. 
To  curb  their  tyrants,  and  invade  their  land  ; 
Waves  fight  with  waves,  and  shores  with  sii(M«s  en* 
And  let  our  sons  inherit  the  same  rage.         [g^fe, 

AMADIS. 

Might  I  be  heard  one  word  hi  my  defence 

OaiAKA. 

No,  not  a  word.    What  specious  fbrc'd  pretcn»e 
Would  you  invent,  to  gild  a  weak  defence  r 
To  false  .£neas,  when  twas  giv'n  by  Fate 
To  tread  the  paths  of  death,and  view  the  Stygian  state. 
Forsaken  Dido  was  the  first  that  stood 
To  strike  his  eye,  her  bosom  bath'd  in  blood 
Fi^esh  from  her  wound :  pale  horronr  and  affiigfat 
Seiz'd  the  false  man,  confounded  at  the  sight. 
Trembling  he  gaz'd,  and  some  foint  words  he  spokB^ 
Some  tears  he  shed,  which,  with  disdainful  look, 
Unmov'd  she  heard,  and  saw,  nor  heeded  more 
Than  the  firm  rock,  when  faithless  tempests  roar. 
With  one  last  look,  hb  fhlseness  she  upbraids. 
Then  sullenly  retires,  and  seeks  eternal  shades. 
Lead  me,  O  lead  me  where  the  bleeding  queen. 
With  just  reproaches  loads  perfidious  men, 
Banish'd  from  joy,  fVom  enipire,  and  from  Kgfcl, 
In  death  involve  me,  and  in  endless  night. 
But  kteep^that  obioiis  objeotp-^rom  my  si^it. 

[ExiL 
£flif #r  Arealaus, 
AacALAtrs. 

With  her  last  woids,  she  aign'd  his  djringbreat]^ 
Convey  him  strai^t  to  tortures,  and  to  dnth. 

AMADIS. 

Let  me  not  peiMi  wiUi  a  traitor^  name. 
Naked,  unarm'd,  and  single  as  I  am  ; 
Loose  this  right  hand— — 

AaCALAUS. 

Hence  to  his  fete  the  valiant  boaster  bear* 

[8mh  under  the  stage  with  him. 
For  him,  let  our  inferinl  priest  prepare 
Their  knives,  their  coeds,  and  altars— but  fbr  her 
Soft  beds,  and  flowery  banks,  and  fVagrant  bowei% 
Muiic,  and  songs^^and  ail  tboae  meltiof  powai* 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  SKmsH  enchanteJrs. 


*9 


WithwliiehljoYellSMils  on  hearts,  and  tunes  the  mind 

To  tenderUfesa  and  yielding 

ftq)erior  eharms,  enchant  us  to  be  land.         [ExiL 
7%«  act  concludes  with  ddncing.  ' 


ACT  IIL    SCENE  I. 
AicalaQS  and  Arcabon,  meeting, 

AKCALAUt. 

WtLcom  as  after  daricness  chearful  light. 
Or  to  the  weary  wanderer  downy  night: 
Smile,  smile  my  Arcabon,  for  ever  smile. 
And  with  thy  ipayett  looks  reward  my  toil. 
That  sullen  air  but  ill  becomes  thee  now, 
Seeft  thoo  not  glorions  conquest  on  my  brow  } 


AKCABOlf. 

Beady  or  in  chains }  be  quick  in  thy  reply. 

AaCALAUf. 

He  lives,  my  Arcabon,  but  lives-to  die. 
The  gnawing  vu^^ure,  and  the  restless  wheel, 
8haU  be  dd^ht,  to  what  the  wretch  shall  feeL 

ARCABON. 

Ooddeas  of  dire  revenge,  Erinnys,  rise^ 
With  pleakure  grace  thy  lips,  with  joy  thy  eyes ; 
^  Smile  like  the  queen  of  Love,  and  strip  the  rocks 
^  Of  pearls  and  gems,  to  deck  thy  jet^r  l<^s; 
With  chearful  tunes^sgnise  ttiy  hoDOw  throat, 
And  emulate  the  lark  and  Unnet's  note. 
Let  Emry^  self  r^ce,  Oespah-  be  gay, 
Bu*  Rage  and  Murder  shall  triumph  to  day. 

AKCALAVS. 

Arise,  O  Ardan,  from  the  hoUow  womb 
Of  Earth,  arise,  btirst  from  thy  brazen  tomb. 
Bear  witness  to  the  vengance  we  prepare, 
Rgoice,  and  rest  for  ever  void  of  care. 


Pbito,  arise,  iiifernal  king,  release 
Tby  tortor'd  slaves,  and  let  the  damn*d  have  peace, 
But  double  all  their  paini»  on  Amadis. 

ARCALACS. 

Momrn  aU  ye  Heavens,  above  yon  azure  plain 
Let  grief  abound,  and  lamentation  reign, 
Tlie  tfaonderer  with  tears  bedew  his  sky, 
For  Amadis,  hit  champion  's  doomed  to  die. 

ARCABOX. 

Death  be  my  care ;  for  to  complcat  his  woe, 
The  slave  shall  perish  by^  a  woman's  blow ; 
Thus  each  by  turns  shall  his  dire  vow  fiilfil, 
Twas  thine  to  vanqubh,  and  *tts  mine  to  kUl. 

ARCALAUS. 

So  look'd  Medea,  when  her  rival  bride, 
Upon  her  nuptial  day,  consuming  dy'd : 
O  never  more  let  love  dls<^ise  a  face 
By  rage  adom*d  with  such  triiunphant  grace. 

AtCABON. 

In  sweet  revenge  inferior  joys  are  lost, 
Abd  Love  lies  shipwrecked  on  the  stormy  coast ; 
Rage  rules  all  other  passions  in  my  breast, 
And,  s^nlliag  like  a  torrent,  drowns  the  rest  [hors, 
Should  tiiis  curt'd  wrelch,  whom  most  my  soul  ah- 

VOL,  XL 


Prove  the  dear  man,  whom  most  my  soul  adores, 
J^ve  should  in  vain  defend  him  with  his  dart. 
Through  all  his  charms  I  'd  stab  him  to  the  hear. 

{^Exeunt. 


SCENE  IL 


Enter  Celius,  Coostantius,  Lucius  a  Roman,  and 
a  numerous  attendance  0/ Britons. 

KING. 

From  contracts  signed,  and  articles  agreed. 
With  British  faith  it  suits  not  to  recede :  * 
How  may  the  world  interpret  such  neglect, 
And  on  her  beauty,  or  her  fame,  reflect  ? 
Roman,  consider  well  what  course  you  run. 
Resolve  to  be  my  prisoner,  or  my  son. 
If  this  sounds  rude,  then  know,  we  Britons  slight 
Those  supple  arts  which  foreigners  del'.irht. 
Nor  stand  on  forms  to  vindicate  our  right 

[Exit  King  and  attendants. 

LUCIUS. 

Happy  extremity !  now,  prince,  be  blest, 
Of  all  you  love,  and  all  you  wish  possest ; 
No  censure  you  incur,  constrainM  to  choose, 
Possest  at  once  of  pleasure,  and  excuse. 

CONSTANTIUS. 

If  for  myself  alone  I  would  possess,    * 
'Twere  sensual  joy,  and  brutal  haopincss. 
When  most  we  love,  einbracing  and  embracM, 
The  particle  sublime  of  blfas  is  placed 
In  raptures,  that  we  feel  the  ravishM  charmer  taste. 
Oriana,  no — though  certain  death  it  be, 
I  '11  keep  my  word — I  *11  die,  or  set  thee  free. 
Haste,  Lucius,  haste,  sound  loud  our  trumpets,  call 
Our  guard  to  arms,  though  few,  they  're  Romans 
Now  tremble,  savage  king,  a  Roman  hand         [alj. 
Shall  ne'er  be  bound,  that  can  a  sword  command. 

As  they  go  of,  re-enter  king    Celius,  attended  as 
before. 


Not  to  be  found  !  she  must,  she  shall  be  found ; 
Disperse  out  parties,  search  our  kingdoms  round ; 
Follow  Constantius,  seize  him,  torture,  kill ; 
Traitor  !  what  vengeance  I  can  have,  I  will. 
Well  have  thy  gods,  O  Rome  !  secured  tby  peace. 
Planted  behind  so  many  lands  and  seas, 
Or  thou  shouldst  feel  roe,  city,  in  thy  fall, 
More  dreadful  than  the  Samnite,  or  the  Gaul. 
But  to  supply  and  recompence  this  want. 
Hear,  O  ye  guartliaui>  of  our  isle,  and  grant 
That  wrath  may  rise,  and  strife  immortal  come 
Betwhct  the  gods  of  Britain,  and  of  Rome. 

lExeunt, 


SCENE  IIL 


The  Scene  changes  to  a  scene  of  tombs  and  dungeons^ 
men  and  toomen  chained  in  rows,  epposUe  to  one 
another.  In  the  front  of  the  captnes,  Florestan 
and  Corisanda*  ^  A  mognijicent  monument  erected 
to  the  memorif  tf  Adan,  with  this  inscription  t» 
large  Utters  qf^^fMi 

^R£VEKGB    IS   V|^*0,    RBST  OUllfrr,   CENTLl    IHADR, 
T|l^   LIVING    S^ALL    SI    «»Ttr.S»   TltL   *T1S    HAD. 


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50 


^AMSOOWNEfS  POEMS. 


A  giuad  ^  dewimu.    Kotslto*  immic. 


To  he  ttmg  hy  m  t&pAw  kmg. 
Look  down,  3fv  powtt,  look  down, 
^ad  caul  a  pi^fing  ey<e 
UpoD  m  moBwehl  mSmrj. 
Look  dowBy  look  down, 
AvvngOy  afvogOy  avenge 
ASroiitoa  luiyofiy. 
ly  who  bot  now  on  throneii  of  gold, 
Gsva  laws  to  kingdomt  nnoontroul'd. 
To  ompira  bom, 
ntm  flnpire  torn, 
A  wrokched  slave, 
A  wretched  slave, 
Am  now  of  slaves  the  soorm 
Alas!  the  smiles  of  Foitnne  prove 
At  variahle,  as  women's  love. 

By  a  captive  looer^ 
The  happiest  mortals  onoe  were  we, 
V  lov'd  Myra,  Myra  me  | 
£Bch  desmms  of  the  blessmg. 
Nothing  waMing  but  I 
I  tov'd  Myn,  Myra  me, 
The  happiest  mortals  once  were  we. 
But  since  cruel  Fates  dissever, 
Tom  from  love,  and  torn  for  ever, 
Tortnres  end  me. 
Death  beftiend  me : 
Of  all  pains,  the  greatest  pain, 
b  to  love,  sod  loi^e  in  vain. 

By  a  ctp^ve  iiUr^ne* 
Pla^nens  not  with  idle  stories, 
Whmhig  loves,  and  senseless  glories  | 
What  are  lovers,  what  are  kmgs  ? 
What  at  best  but  slavish  things. 
Free  I  Wd^  as  Nature  made  me. 
No  proud  beavty  durst  invade  me. 
No  r^>eUious  slaveabetrajr'd  me, 
Firee  I  liv'd,  as  Nature  n^^  me. 

Each  by  turns,  as  sense  inspired  roe, 
Bacchus,  Ceres,  Venus,  fir'd  roe ; 
I  alone  have  lost  t^ue  pleasure ; 
Freedom  is  the  only  treasure. 

Ckonu  Iff  detmms. 
Cease,  ye  slaves,  jrour  fruitless  grieTing, 
No,  no. 
The  powers  below 
No  pity  know ; 
Cease,  ye  slaves,  your  fruitless  grieving. 
A  dance  of  demons  insulting  the  prisonerf. 

vLoaBSTAM  to  CoTisanda. 
To  taste  of  pain,  and  yet  to  gaM  on  thee. 
To  meet,  and  yet  to  mourn,  but  ill  agree. 
Well  may  tiie  brave  contend,  the  wise  contrive. 
In  vain  against  their  stars  the  destined  strive. 

COIISAHBA. 

So  to  tfa'  appointed  grove  the  featherM  pair , 
Fly  chirping  on,  unmindful  of  the  snare, 
Ihumiag  love,  and  wing*d  with  amorous  thought. 
The  wanton  oouple  in  one  tsril  are  caught, 
la  the  aune  cage  in  moumAd  notes  complain 
Of  the  sama  ^B,  and  cume  ^M^dious  man. 

A  CAPTITB,      *'*7i 

O  Heavens,  take  pity  of  our  pains^ 
Peath  is  a  milder  faU  thaa  <^ms. 


ecends  in  a  ekariot  drawn  tkwugk  ike  air  ky  dra- 
gons,  guarded  by htfemalspiriit^  SheaUglUtamd 
comes  forward,  armed  with  a  dagger  in  ker 
hand. 


Your  vows  have  reach'd  the  gods,  your  < 
Have  the  same  date    ■  ■■  [and  1 

Prepare  ror  nreedom,  for  I  farmg  yondea^ 
He  who  so  oft  has  'scap*d  th*  assaults  of  hell, 
Whom  yet  no  charms  oodd  bind,  no  force  eoold 
By  whom  so  many  bold  enchanters  fell,        Di|mD* 
Amadis,  Amadis,  this  joyful  day. 
Your  guardian  deity 's  himaelf  our  prey. 
From  aU  thehr  dimgeons  let  our  captbet  oomi^ 
Idle  spectators  of  their  hero's  doom. 

FUmrith  oS  hud  instruments  of  dhert  lorCt.'  Othat^ 
dungeons  open,  and  dieeooer  more  cif^tivet,  Mnm^ 
dh  chainea  to  an  altar,  infernal  priests  on  mcA 
side  qf  him  with  knkoes  up-^fted  ready  for  ike 

starts  and  steps, 

AftCABOir. 

Thou  dy'st— What  strange  and  what  resiatleaa 
With  aecret  force,  arrests  my  lifted  ^|nn  ?  [chanig 
What  ait  thon,  who  with  mere  than  magic  ait. 
Dost  make  my  hand  nniuthfol  to  my  hnit } 

AMADIS. 

One,  who,  disdaining  mercy,  ioei  to  die; 
I  ask  not  life,  for  life  were  cruelty. 
Of  an  the  wretched,  search  the  woM  aronndt 
A  more  unhappy  never  can  be  found ; 
Let  loose  thy  rage,  like  an  avenging  god. 
Fain  would  my  soul,  encumber'd,  cast  her  loadt 
,  AicABON.      [Aside, 

In  every  line  and  feature  of  that  feoe. 
The  dear  enchanter  of  my  soul  I  trace : 
My  brother !  had  my  fether  too  been  slain. 
The  blood  of  my  whole  race  should  plead  in 
The  ties  of  nature  do  but  weakly  move. 
The  strongest  tie  of  nature,  is  in  love. 


O  Florestan !  I  see  those  chains  with  i 
Which  I  couki  not  prevent — O  stain  to  tome ' 
O  Honour  lost  for  ever!  Theseus  fell. 
But  Hercules  remain*d  unconquer'd  stiH, 
And  freed  his  fHend — ^What  man  could  do— I  di^ 
Nor  was  I  overpowcr'd,  but  betray'd. 
O  my  lov'd  friend  I  with  better  giace  we  stood 
In  arms  rq>ellrog  Death,  wading  m  blood 
To  victories;  the  manly  limb  that  trod 
Firm  and  erect,  beneath  a  treble  load 
Of  ponderous  mail,  these  sharoefUl  bonds  disdaia^ 
And  sinks  beneath  th'  inglorious  weight  of  chams^ 

VLOKEtTAIf. 

Were  shall  the  brave  and  good  for  refuge  ruiy 
When  to  be  virtuous,  is  to  be  undone  ? 

ARCABON. 

He  spoke — and  every  accent  to  my  heart 
Gave  a  fresh  wound,  and  was  another  dart : 
He  weeps  !  but  reddening  at  the  tears  that  fiU^ 
Is  it  for  these  ?  Be  quick,  and  free  them  alL 
Let  every  captive  be  rele«s*d  from  chains  a 
Bow  is  it  that  1  love,  if  he  complains  } 


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THE  mtinSH  ENCHANTERS. 


51 


i  cwy  8iwf»  vtd  wtty  inxious  care,  - 
IGi  with  ilie  MM  and  winds,  breed  tempeits  there : 
flbribean  yoar  stfingi,  to  joyful  measures  more, 
And  eveiy  voice  soQnd  liborty  and  Love. 

Fbmntk  qf  mU  tktwuuk;  ike  ehahu  ai  once  fail 
ef  fnm  all  the  eafiUvet,    AKabon  freet  iliBadis 

O^onu  qf  ail  ike  captivee, 

Uberty!  LibeitsrI 

^A  tingle  voice. 
Antf  am,  tiie  generous  Britons  ciy^ 
Let  OS  lire  free,  or  let  us  die; 
Tnunpets  sounding,  banners  flybag. 
Braving  ^rants^  chains  defyhig, 
jbm,  arm,  the  generous  Britons  csy, 
Lsi  us  lire  firee,  or  let  us  die; 

libefty!  liberty! 

Chottu  Ttpeotf 
lihoty!  Ifteity! 

Ano^Ur  single  voice* 
Happy  isle,  an  joys  possening, 

CKme  resembling  Hearen  above, 
Rcedom  His  that  crowns  thy  blesdng, 

land  of  Liberty  and  Lore ! 
When  thy  nymphs,  to  cure  complaining, 

Set  tbonselves  and  lovers  f^ 
In  the  blessing  of  obtahnng, 
jUil  bow  sweet  is  Liberty ! 
Dance  qf  eapOves,  expressing  joy  for  libertjf. 

Aicabon  ksmng  JMd  Amadis,  ikey  come  forward 
iogeiker}  Ike  reti  standing  in  rows  on  each  side 
efOie  theatre^  hoaing  as  they  advance, 

AKCASOK.    '  ' 

When  rage,  Ukemme,  makes  such  a  sudden  pause, 
Metfainks  *twere  easy  to  divine  the  cause : 
Hie'duUest  warrior,  in  a  lady's  fuse. 
The  sem  meaning  of  a  bhish  may  trace. 
When  short-breath'd  sighs,  and  catching  glanoes, 
ftom  dying  esres,  reveal  the  kind  mtent  [sent 

Let  Gkiry  share,  but  not  possess  you  whole. 
Lota  is  the  darlhig  tranqxirt  of  the  souL 

AMADIS. 

Tlie  lords  of  Fate,  who  all  our  lots  decree, 
Have  destined  Fame,  no  other  chance  for  me  ; 
H y  sullen  stars  m  that  rough  circle  move  ; 
The  hqppy  only  ara  reserved  for  love. 

AaCABOV. 

The  stars  which  you  reproach,  my  art  can  Ibroe, 
I  can  direct  them  to  a  kinder  course : 
IVust  to  my  charms,  the  present  time  improve. 
Meet  and  precious  are  the  hours  of  love. 
Unguarded  see  the  vugin  treasure  sUnd, 
<^ad  of  the  theft,  to  court  the  robber's  hand  ; 
fiooour,  ha  wonted  watch  ik>  longer  keeps, 
ieize  quiddy,  soldier,  while  the  dragon  sleeps. 

AMAOff. 

Bnchanting  are  your  looks,  less  magic  lies 
h  your  mysterious  art,  than  in  your  eyes ; 
&ieh  mdtmg  lai^uage  claims  a  soft  return, 
FHy  the  hopeless  flames  in  which  I  bum ; 
Fast  bond  already,  and  not  free  to  choose, 
I  prise  tiie  blesring  ftited  to  refasa* 


AKCABON.    lAiide, 
Those  formal  lovers  be  for  ever  curst. 
Who  fettered  free-bom  Love  with  Honour  first. 
Who  through  fentastic  laws  are  virtue's  foob. 
And  against  nature  .will  be  slaves  to  rules. 
ITo  hmu]  Your  captive  friends  have  freedom  from 

this  hour, 
Rgoice  for  them,  but  for  thyself  much  more: 
Sublimer  blessings  are  reserved  for  thee. 
Whom  Love  invites  to  be  possessed  of  me. 
Hie  shipwrecked  Greeks,  cast  on  J!Eca*s  sho0, 
With  trembling  steps  the  dubious  coast  ezpkirs^ 
Who  first  arrive,  in  vain  for  pity  plead. 
Transformed  to  beasts,  a  vile  and  monstrous  breed ; 
But  when  Ulysses  with  superior  mein  [queen, 

^pproach>d  the  throne  where  sat  th*  enchantress 
Pteas'd  with  a  presence  that  invades  her  chaims« 
She  takes  the  bold  adveot'rer  in  her  arms. 
Up  to  her  bed  Ae  leads  the  conqueror  on. 
Where  he  ei^oys  the  daughter  of  the  Son. 

She  leads  Amadis  out  Florestan  and  Gorisanda, 
and  the  released  cap^tvos  only  remain,  FhnaHaa 
and  Oorisanda  run  into  each  other* t  arms. 

rLoacfTAK. 
In  this  enchanting  circle  let  me  be^ 

For  ever  and  for  ever  bennd  to  thee. 

COaiSAlOIA. 

Soul  of  my  soul,  and  charmer  of  my  lieart, 
F^om  these  embraces  let  us  never  part. 

FLOaSSTAN. 

Never,  O  never — In  some  safe  retreat. 
Far  firom  the  ndse  and  tumults  of  the  great. 
Secure  and  happy  on  each  other's  breast, 
Withm  each  other's  ama  we  '11  ever  rest; 
Those  e3pes  shall  make  my  days  serene  and  bright. 
These  aims,  thus  dreHng  round  me,- bless  the  nieht. 
\^Exeunt  Flor.  -and  Co^w 

The  remmning  ctfOves  expreu  their  joy  for  liherkf 
by  smging  and  dancing. 
Chorus  qf  all  the  captives  together, 
TV)  Fortune  give  immortal  praise, 
Fortnne  deposes,  and  can  raiiie. 
Fortune  the  captives  chains  do^  break. 
And  brings  de^Muring  exiles  back ; 
However  low  this  hour  we  foil. 
One  lucky  moment  may  mend  alL 
The  ad  coneludee  with  variety  qf  daiues,  ' 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  L 
Aicabon  and  Arcalaus.' 


Of  women  tyrants  tis  the  common  doom^ 
Each  haughtily  sets  out  in  beauty*s  bloomy 
Till,  late  repenting,  to  redeem  the  pas^ 
You  turn  abandon'd  prostitutes  at  last 

ABCABON. 

Who  hate  declares,  is  sure  of  hate  agahi ; 
Rage  begets  rage,  disdam  provokes  disdbm : 
Why,  why  alas!  should  love  less  mutual  prove? 
Why  is  not  love  returned  with  equal  love  ? 
S2 


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it 


LANSDOWNE'S  POfeMS. 


AtCALAOIb 


Blenngt  iHien  cbei^  or  oeitain,  ire  detprae  j 
From  sore  ponesNOD  what  denre  can  rise } 
Ltfve,  like  ambition,  dies  as  'tis  enjoy'd, 
By  doubt  provok'd,  by  certainty  destroyed. 

ABCABON. 

To  govern  love,  alas !  what  woman  can  ? 
Yet  tis  an  easy  province  for  a  man. 
Why  am  I  then  of  hope  abandoned  quite  ? 
There  is  a  cure— I  M  ask  it— if  I  might 
Forgive  me,  brother,  if  I  pry  too  far, 
I  've  learnt  my  rival  is  your  prisoner  here ; 
Utbatbetnie 

ARCALAUS. 

What  thenoe  would  you  infer?  ISuHify. 

ARCABON. 

What  but  her  death— WHen  Amadis  is  free 
From  bo|^  of  her — there  may  be  hope  for  me. 

ARCALAtiS. 

Thou  dond  to  his  bright  Juno-«-Fool — shall  fte 
Who  has  lor>d  her,  ever  descend  to  thee  ? 

ARCAIOH. 

Much  vainer  fool  art  thou    (  where  are  those 
charttis               :' 
That  are  to  tampi  a  princess  to  thy  arms  ? 
Thoa  Vulcan  to  Oriaiia's  Mars 

ARCALAUS. 

But  yet 
This  Vulcan  has  that  Mars  within  his  net 
Your  counsel  comes  too  late,  for  tts  deoieed. 
To  make  the  woman  sure,  the  man  shall  bleed. 

[Exit  surlily, 

ARCABON. 

First  perish  thou;  earth»  air,  and  seas,  and  sky. 
Confounded  in  one  heap  of  chaos  lie, 
And  every  other  .living  cre^itnre  die. 
I  bum,  I  bum ;  the  storm  that 's  in  my  mind 
Kindles  my  heart,  like  fires  provok'd  Irf  #ind: 
Love  and  resentment,  wishes  and  disdain. 
Blow  all  at  once,  like  winds  that  plough  tite  main. 
Furies !  Alecto !  aid  my  just  design : 
But  if,  averse  to  mercy,  you  decUne 
The  pious  task,  assist  me,  powers  divine ; 
Just  gods,  and  thou  their  king,  imperial  Jove, 
Strike  whom  you  please,  but  save  the  man  I  love. 

lExU, 


SCENE    11. 


T%e  Scene  ehanget  io  the  representation  of  a  fine 

farden  ;  Oriana  ekting  pemiveUf  in  a  pieasani 
ower  towards  the  loxeer  end  of  the  scene.  Soft 
music  puling.  Arealaus  enters^  addressing  himself 
retpectfuUtf  to  her.  She  rises;  they  ttdvance  slowly 
foulards  the  front  of  the  stage,  seeming  in  mute 
discourse f  t'M  the  music  ceases. 

•    Aicalans  and  Oriana. 

ARCAIJiUt. 

Or  freedom  lost,  unjustly  yxm  comphun. 
Bom  to  command,  where-e»er  you  come  you  reign; 
No  fetters  here  you  wear,  but  others  bind, 
And  not  a  prison,  but  an  empiit  find. 


eauiiA, 
Death  I  expect,  and  t  desire  it  toay 
Tis  all  the  mercy  to  be  wMi*d  from  3^11. 
To  die,  is  to  be  free:  Oh  let  me  find 
A  spMy  deith— that  freedom  would  be  khidL 

ARCALAVS. 

Too  cruel  to  suspect  such  usage  meant. 
Here  is  no  death,  but  what  your  e3res  present:. 

0  may  they  r^.  those  arbiters  of 'ftitc, 
ImnMNtal,  as  the  Troves  whidi  they  create. 
We  know  the  cause  of  this  preposteruus  grief. 
And  we  should  pity,  were  there  no  relief : 
Pne  lover  lost,  have  you  not  millions  more  ? " 
Can  you  complain  or  want,  whom  all  adore  ? 

All  hearts  are  yours;  even  mine,  that,  fierce  and  f^^c. 
Ranging  at  large,  disdainM  captivity, 
Cau^t  by  your  charms,  the  savage  trembKng  fies. 
And,  prostrate  in  his  chain,  for  mercy  dies. 

ORIANA* 

Bespect  is  limited  to  power  alone. 
Beauty  distressed,  like  kings  finom  ei^rfre  thrown. 

Each  insolent  mvades 

How  art  thou  changed  \  ah,  wretched  princess !   now. 
When  every  slave  that  foves,  dares  tell  thee  bo? 

ARCAI.AI7S. 

If  I  do  love,  the  ^It  is  in  3roar  eyes, 
Blame  tliem  who  wound,  and  not  your  slave  whodieti 
If  we  may  love,  then  sure  we  may  declare ; 
If  we  naay  not,  ah  !  why  are  j'ou  so  foir  ? 
Who  can  unmov'd  bdiold  that  heavenly  foce« 
Those  radiant  eyes,  and  that  resistless  grace  > 

ORIANAt 

Pluck  out  these  eyes,  revenge  thee  oa  my  lhc«L 
Tear  off  my  cheeks,  androot  up  every  grace. 
Disfigure,  kill  me,  kill  me  instandy  t 
Thus  may*st  thou  free  thj-self  at  once,  and  me. 

ARCALAUS. 

Such  strange  commands  *twere  impious  to  obe%% 

1  would  revenge  niyhtlf  a  gentler  way. 

[Offering  to  take  her  hand,  she  snakes  it 
uway  disdaihfuliy. 

ORIANA. 

Some  whiriwind  bear  me  from  this  odioos  placa, 
Earth  open  wide,  and  biuy  my  disgrace ; 
Save  me,  ye  powers,  from'  violence  and  shame. 
Assist  my  virtue,  and  protect  my  fome. 
ARCALAUS.      [Aside. 

Love,  with  submission,  first  begins  in  ooura^ 
But  when  that  fails,  a  sure  reserve  is  forec : 
The  nicest  dames  who  our  embraces  shun. 
Wait  only  a  pretence--and  force  is  one : 
She  who  through  frailty  yields,  dishonour  gains 
But  she  that 's  forc'd,  her  innocence  i^tains :    ^ 
Debtors  and  slaves  for  favours  they  bestow. 
Invading,  we  are  free,  and  nothmg  owe. 
No  ties  of  love  or  gratitude  constrain. 
But  as  we  like,  we  leave->or  come  aeain. 

ItshaUbeso. ^ 

{Joker.-]  SincesofterargumentehaveprofMiovmin. 
Force  is  the  last,  resist  it  if  you  can. 

[He  seizes  her,  she  breaks  frvm  kirn. 

ORIANA. 

Help— help— ye  Gods ! 


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THE  BRITISH  ENCHANTERS. 


5S 


AlCAtAVS. 

Wbo  vitth  sucli  oonfii^  can  resist  donrBy 
With  what  m  rage  she  'U  kfte  wbea  nptures  fire! 
Bdiold  m  cbaiiis  your  vauquishM  minioD  lies, 
Atd  if  icir  ngtlMAg  but  this  scorn,  he  dies. 


Sscocered  in  chains,  Arcalaus  advancing 
to  stab  Am,  Arcabon  enters  in  the  instant  and 
offers  to  stab  Oriaoa. 

ARCABOK. 

Strike  boldly,  murd'rer,  strike  him  to  the  ground, 
Whfle  thus  my  daicger  answers  erery  wound. 
By  whal  new  magic  is  thy  vengeance  charm'd  ? 
Trembles  thy  hand  before  a  maQ  unarmM? 

ORIAMA. 

Strike,  my  deliverer,  *tis  a  friendly  stroke, 
I  shun  €bec  not,  but  rather  would  provoke : 
Peath  to  the  wretched  is  an  end  of  care. 
But  yet,  methJnks,  he  might  that  victim  spare. 

[hnnttng  to  Amadis. 

AMADIt. 

Burst,  burst  these  chains :  justgods^  can  you  look 
down, 
On  such  distress,  like  idle  lookers-on  ? 
My  soul,  611  now,  no  dangers  could  aflHght, 
But  treinbles  like  a  coward's,  at  this  sight 

AtCABOir. 

So  passionate  !  but  I  'II  revcuge  it  here 

ARCAtAUS. 

Hold,  Pury^-BOr  1  strike  as  home— forbear-     ■  ■ 

.Arcabon  *(fering  to  stab  Oriana,  Aroalaiia  does  the 
same  to  Amadis  ;  both  wiih-hoU  their  blow, 

Tfttmftets,  kettle-dntms,  and  xearlike  instrtimtnU  cf 
all  kindsy  resound  frum  all  parts  qf  the  theatre, 
Urganda  enters  hastily  uith  a  numerous  trmn, 
AxcaXanAandkxcaixmsurprisedt  retire  to  the  oppo- 
-eite  side  qf  the  stage, 

VRCAVDA. 

To  arm^,  to  arms,  ye  spirits  of  the  air. 
Ye  inaiRrdians  of  the  brave,  and  of  the  fiur. 
Leave  your  bright  mansions,  and  in  arms  appear. 

Warlike  music  sounds  a  charge ;  Spirits  descend  in 
elonds  ;  some  continue  in  the  air  playing  upon  in- 
struments qf  zcar^  others  remain  ranged  in  order 
of  batik  ;  others  descend  upon  the  stage,  ranging 
themselves  %  Amadis,  u/hom  Ur^nda.  frees,  giving 
him  a  sieord.    Oriana  likemse  is  freed, 

AlCA^Otl. 

Fly  qnipk,  ye  demons,  front  your  black  abodes, 
>lnd  t^r  anc^r  combat  with  the  gods ; 
Blue  fires,  and  pestilential  fumes ^se, 
And  fiaming  fountains  spout  against  the  skies ; 
From  their  broad  roots  these  oaks  and  cedars  tear. 
Bom  like  my  love,  and  rage  like  my  despair.    » 

Trumpets  sound  on  ArcabonV  side,  which  are  an- 
fleered  on  Urganda'i.  The  grove  appears  in  an 
intant  all  in  a  fame  ;  fountuint  from  below  cast 
vpfire  as  in  spouts  $  a  rain  of  fire  from  above; 
the  sl^  darkened ;  demons  range  themselves  on 
tie  stage  by  Arcalam  and  Arcabon;  other  de- 
mons face  Urganda ;  sphits  in  thA  air  $  martial 
instrumants  soundine  from  sports  qf  the  theatre  ,- 
Arcalaus  advances  bqfore  his  partj^,  with  hit  smord 
davn^  to  Aw^l^^b. 


Let  Heaven  and  Hell  stand  neuter,  while  we  try, 
On  equal  terms,  which  of  u»  twQ  bhali  die« 

Arcalaus  and  Amadis  engage  at  the  head*  qf  their 
parties  ;  a  fght  at  the  sgme  time  in  the  air,  and 
upon  the  stajie ;  all  sorts  of  loud  instruments  sound* 
ing  ;  Arcalaus  falU  ;  the  demons,  somefiu  away 
through  the  air,  others  sink  under-ground,  with 
horrible  cries. 


Sound  tunes  of  triumph,  all  ye  winds,  and  bear 
Your  notes  aloft,  that  Heaven  and  Earth  may  bear ; 
And  tbou,  O  Sun  !  shine  out  serene  and  gay. 
And  bright,  at  when  the  giants  lost  the  day. 

Tunes  qf  triumph ;  the  sky  clears  ;  the  grovf  returns 
to  its  first  prospect,  A  large  ball  qf  fire  represent' 
ing  the  figure  of  the  Sun  descends  gradudlfy  to  the 
stage  ;  Amadis  apbroaching  Oriana  respectfully  ; 
Arcabon  stands  sullen  and  observing, 

AMADts^  *     [  To  Oriana. 
"While  Amadis  Oriana's  Idve  possest,  • 
Secure  of  empire  in  that  beauteous  breast, 
Not  Jove,  the  king  of  gods,  lil^e  Amadis  vat  blest. 

ORIANA. 

WhHe  to  Oriana  Amadis  was  true. 
Nor  wandering  flames  to  distant  climates  drew. 
No  heaven,  but  only  love,  the  pleas*d  Oriana  knew. 

AMADIS. 

That  heaven  of  love,  alas !  is  mine  no  more. 
Braving  those  powers  by  whom  she  falsely  swore ; 
She  to  Constantids  would  those  charms  resign. 
If  oaths  couM  bind,  that  should  be  only  mina 

ORIAVA.      , 

WKh  a  feignM  falsehood  yon  M  evade  your  pa^ 
Of  guilt,  and  tux  a  tender  faithful  heart : 
X^liile  by  such  ways  you  'd  hide  a  conscious  flame, 
The  only  virtue  you  have  left,  is  shame. 

[Turning  disdainfully  from  him, 
AMADIS.     [Approaching  tenderly. 
But  should  this  injur*d  vassal  yuu  suspect 
Prme  true — ^Ah  !  what  return  might  he  expect. 

ORIANA.  [lieiuming  to  him  with    , 
an  uir  qf  tenderness. 
Though  brave  Constantius  cliarms  with  every  a|t^ 
Tliat  can  entice  a  tender  virgin's  heart, 
Whether  he  t»hines  for  glory,  or  delight,         , 
To  tempt  ambition,  or  enchant  the  sight. 
Were  Amadis  restored  to  my  esteem, 
I  would  reject  a  deitj' — for  him. 

AMADIS. 

Though  false  as  watery  bubliles  blown  by  wind, 
Fi'xt  in  my  soul,  and  nioted  in  my  mind, 
I  love  tlriana,  faithless  and  unkind. 
O  were  she  kind,  and  faithful,  n<  she  's  fair ! 
For  her  alone  I  M  live— and  die  for  her. 

URGANDA. 

Adjourn  these  murmurs  of  returning  love, 
And  from  this  scene  of  rage  and  fate  remove. 

[7b  Arcabon. 
Thy  empire,  Arcabon,  concludes  this  hour, 
hort  if  the  date  of  all  flagitious  power : 


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$^ 


LANSDOWNES  POEMS. 


Spar'd  bethy  life,  that  thoa  fOMf^  Wnog  bear 
The  torments  of  the  damn'd  m  thy  despair. 

[To  Ornna  and  Amadis* 
Where  zephyrs  only  breathe  in  myrtle  groves, 
There  will  I  lead  yon  to  debate  yoor  lovies. 

The  machifu  repreteiUmg  tht  figure  qf  the  Sim 
opens  and  appeart  to  be  a  chariot  r^ulgenl  with 
rt^,  tMgn\flcent^  gilt  and  adorned^  tnth  amve- 
nient  eeaU^  to  ukch  Urganda  conducti  Oriana ; 
Araadis/oiiomiig,  Arcabon  etopt  him  by  the  robe. 

ABCABON. 

What,  not  one  look  ?  not  one  dissembting^mile, 
To  thank  me  for  your  life  ?  or  to  beguile 
Despair  ?  Cold  and  ungratefnl  as  thou  art, 
Hence  from  my  sight  for  e?er,  and  my  heart. 

[Letting  go  her  hold  xvith  an  mr  qf  contempt. 
Back,  soldier,  to  the  camp,  thy  proper  q>here, 
Stick  to  thy  trade,  dull  hero,  follow  war  ^ 
Useless  to  women        thou  mere  image,  meant 
To  raise  desire— and  then  to  disappoint. 

Amadis  tdkee  Mt  place  in  Urganda'^  ehariot^  which 
rises  graduallg  in  the  ahr,  not  mate  disappeartng 
till  the  close  qfAicahoaU  speech 

80  ready  to  be  gone— «— Barbarian,  stay. 

He  's  gone,  and  lore  returns,  and  pride  ntes  way. 

0  stay,  come  backr— Horrour  and  Hell !  1  born  I 

1  rage !  I  rave !  I  die  ! ^Return,  return  ! 

Eternal  racks  my  tortur'd  bosom  tear. 
Vultures  with  endless  pangs  are  gnawing  there ; 

Fury !  Distraction 1  am  all  detpmr, 

Burainf:  with  love,  may'st  thou  ne'er  aim  at  bliss, 
3at  thunder  ^lakB  thy  fimbs,  and  lightening  blast 

thy  kiss; 
While  pale,  aghast,  a  spectre  I  stand  by, 
Plaas*d  at  the  terrours  that  distract  thy  joy ! 
Phigoe  of  my  life  1  thy  impotence  shall  be 
A  curse  to  her«  wors^than  thy  soorn  to  me. 

[Exit. 

CttOftUS. 

First  voice. 
The  battle's  done, 
Onr  wars  are  over. 
The  battle  's  done. 
Let  laurels  crown 
Whom  ruggM  steel  did  cover. 
^  Second  ootce. 

Let  myrtles  too 
Bring  peace  for  ever, 
Lrt  myrtles  too 
Adocn  the  brow, 
niat  bent  beneath  the  warDke  beaver. 

A  fuO  chorus  <ff  all  the  voices  and  insttuments* 

Let  trumpets  and  tymbaJs, 
Let  atabals  and  C3rmbals, 
Lat  dmms  and  hautboys  give  over; 
But  let  flutes, 
And  let  lutes 
Omr  passions  excite 
To  gentler  delight, 
AaA  every  Bfars  be  a  k>ver. 
Doacif,  with  which  the  act  concludes* 


ACT  V.  iCBNS  L 
Scene,  Urganda**  eiuhmUtd  p&koe. 
The  scenes  an  adorned  and  diversified  with  ihoeevw^ 
ral  representations  of  the  adventures  mid  expUitB 
qf  heroes  and  heroinas :  a  learge  piece  facing  ikef 
front,  refresenting  their  apotliBOsii,  ar  fsai^lio* 
among  the  gqds. 

Amadis  aiu2  Oiiaaa. 


Iv  my  esteem  be  well  deserves  a  pfit. 

He  shares  my  praise,  but  yon  hive  all  my  haait  r 

When  equal  virtues  in  the  scales  are  tiy*dy 

And  justice  against  neither  can  decide  ; 

When  judgment  thus  perplexM,  tagpeadg  the  chctoSy 

Fancy  must  speak,  and  give  the  castmg  voice : 

Much  to  his  love,  much  to  his  merit 's  due. 

But  powetfbl  hiclination  was  for  yon. 

AMADIS. 

Thou  hast  no  equAl,  a  siq;>eri«N'  ray 
Unrival'd  as  the  light  that  rales  the  day. 
ShoukI  Fame  solicit  me  with  all  her  ehams^ 
Not  blooming  laurels  nor  victorious  arms 
Should  purchase  but  a  grain  of  the  deh^A, 
A  moment  from  the  raptures  of  this  ni^. 

OBIAMA.  / 

Wrong  not  my  virtoe,  to  suppose  that  I 
Can  grant  to  love,  what  duty  must  deny  ; 
A  fether's  will  is  wanting,  and  my  breast 
Is  ruPd  by  Olory,  thou^  by  Love  possest : 
Ratherthan  be  another's,  I  wouki  die  ; 
Nor  can  be  yours,  till  duty  shall  comply* 

AMADIS. 

Hard  rules,  whkh  thus  the  noblest  knves  engaftt. 
To  wait  the  peevish  humours  of  old  age  ! 
Think  not  the  lawfulness  of  love  consists 
In  parents  wilte,  or  in  the  forms  of  priests; 
Such  are  but  Uoens'd  rapes,  which  vengeanee  dai^fw 
From  Heav'n,  howe'er  approved  by  human  law. 
Marriage  the  happiest  bond  of  kyve  mifht  be. 
If  hands  were  only  join'd,  when  hearts  agree. 
Enter  Urganda,  Corisanda,  Florestan,  and  attend^ 

ants  to  Urganda. 

UaCAlfDA. 


Here  faithful  lovers  to  sure  jcnrs  1 
The  soft  retreat  of  Glory  and  or  Love, 
By  Fate  prepared,  to  crown  the  happy  hoois 
Of  mighty  longs,  and  fiunous  conquerors  : 
Here,  gallant  prince,  let  all  your  labours  end  ; 
Before,  I  gave  a  mistress  ;  now,  a  friend  ; 
The  greatest  blesnngs  which  the  gods  can  send. 

[Presenting  Florestan. 

AMADIS. 

O  Florestan !  there  was  but  thus  to  meet. 
Thus  to  embrace,  to  make  my  joys  corapleat  | 
The  sight  of  thee  does  such  vast  tran^MMts  braed. 
As  scares  the  ecstaciesof  love  eiceed. 

FLOazSTAM. 

Ifbeyond  kve  or  glory  is  a  taste 
Of  pleasure,  it  is  sure  in  friendship  plao'd. 

OftlAlfA. 

My  Corisanda  too !  [Embraang  htr. 

Net  Florestan  cQuld  fly  with  greater  haste 
To  take  thee  m  his  arms— O  welcome  to  mr  breast, 
Astothykiver'i 


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day! 

•0 


THEpmnsH 

O  joypoiqpleat! 
nioudi  ■iiO'lovon  mscli 


ENCHANTERS. 


55 


Ofor»  to  Hm  ^ 

phunes  tbe  nuBy  and  «eek  the 


Nr  tMr  ^ad  Buteiy  and  000  eternal  lofw. 
amAdu. 
OnoraftaDf  bleat  at  thoQ  doit  doMnre, 
1V>  tee  Um  Met  ava  kind,  wlthoot  reserve. 
My  j<nra  are  not  to  fiiU ;  tbongh  Love  woold  yield, 
KeroaHoooiir  staadt  hit  gronnd,  and  keepe  the  field; 
Nature  vitliintediic*d»  in  vam  befriendt, 
While  Honour,  i^tb  Ut  guard  of  Pride,  defends : 
O  Nature  I  lirail,  and  ftndty  in  thy  ftame, 
JniBfflliBiy  wishet.  Honour  must  condemn  i 
Or  O I  too  rigid  Axioar,  that  to  iMod, 
WbenNatnre  promptt,  and  when  De^  is  kind. 

Ent€r  AMCsM€f»  eondueiing  Covitaiitius,  her  gar- 
mtnit  lotrngf  and  hair  dtMeveOed^  seeming  frantic, 
Gommumus  in  deep  memrmng. 

ABCABON. 

This  Roman,  is  the  places  Tit  magic  ground. 
Hid  by  enchantment,  by  eachantment  found, 
fichold  than  at  our  view  dissolve  in  fear. 
Two  anniea,  are  two  lovers  in  despair ; 
Proceed,  be  bold,  and,  scorning:  to  enh^tt, 
Wnk  aU  her  str^sgUngs  feign'd,iier  criet  deoeit; 
Kill  him,  and  ravish  hop—for  so  wouM  I, 
Were  I  a  man— or  rather  let  both  die. 
The  r^pe  may  please — rr 
Each  was  ditdam'd ;  to  equal  rage  retign 
Thy  heart,  and  let  it  bum  and  blaze  like  mine. 
Tis  sweet  to  love,  but  when  with  scorn  we  meet, 
Kevei^  supplies  the  lots  with  joys  as  great. 

A  ekariot  descends  swiftly,  into  wMch  she  enters  at 
dke  foUovDing  Ones, 

l^  to  th*  etherial  Heavens,  where  gods  reside, 
Lo !  thus  I  fly,  to  thunder  on  thy  side. 


A  dep  qf  thunder.     The  chariot  mounts  in 
and  vanishes  with  her* 


the 


COMSTAICnUS. 


Ply  where  tliou  wilt,  but  not  to  Uest  abodes. 
For  sore,  where-e'r  thou  art,  there  are  no  gods. 
[Addrusing  htmself  ^  Oriana. 
I  come  not  here  an  object  to  affri^t, 
Orto  mcdest,  but  add  to  your  delight 
Behold  a  prince  expiring  in  your  view. 
Whose  life 's  a  burthen  to  himself,  and  you. 
fstt  sad  the  king  aD  other  means  denv 
To  set  yon  free,  but  that  Constantius  die. 
A  Roman  arm  had  play'd  a  Roman  part. 
But  tis  prevented  by  my  breaking  heart; 
I  thaok  ye,  gods,  nor  think  my  doom  severe, 
KcagDing  life,  on  any  ten^  for  her. 

VaCAMOA. 

What  cnieldettmy  on  Beauty  waitt,    . 
When  on  one  £sce  dependt  to  many  fetet  1 
coavrAimus. 

Make  room,  ye  BecH,  whose  devoted  breath 
Sscar'd  your  country's  happmess  by  death ; 


I  oome  a  sacrifice  no  lest  renownr  d. 
The  cause  as  glorious,  and  as  sure  the  wound. 
OLove!  with  all  thy  sweets  let  her  be  blest, 
Hiy  reign  be  gende  in  that  beauteous  breast. 
Though  thy  malignant  beams,  vrith  deadly  force, 
Have  soorch*d  my  joys,  and  in  their  baneful  course 
Withered  each  plant,  and  dry'd  up  every  source  j 
Ah !  to  Oriana  shine  less  fo^  bright, 
CSierish  her  heart,  and  nourish  her  ddi^t, 
Restnun  each  cruel  influence  that  destrojrs. 
Bless  all  her  days,  and  ripen  all  her  joys. 

Oriana  we^r/tf,  and  shews  concern;  AmadiM  addressing 
himseff  to  Constantius. 


Were  Fortune  us'd  to  smile  upon  desert. 
Love  had  been  yours,  to  die  had  been  my  part : 
Thus  Fate  divides  the  prize;  though  Beauty's  mine. 
Yet  Psme,  our  other  mistress,  is  more  thine. 

[Oonstanthis  looinng  sternly  upon  him. 
Disdain  not,  gallant  prince,  a  ri^'s  praise. 
Whom  your  high  worth  thus  humbles  to  coofest 
In  every  thing  but  fove,  he  merits  lets. 

COHSTAMTinS. 

Art  thou  that  rival  then?  O  kiUing  shame  I 
And  has  he  view*d  me  thus,  so  weak,  so  tame  ? 
Like  a  soom'd  captive  prortrate  at  lUs  side. 
To  grace  his  triumph,  and  delip^t  his  pride  ? 
O  tis  too  much !  and  Nature  in  disdain 
Turns  back  ftom  death,  and,  firing  every  vein. 
Reddens  with  rage,  and  kindles  Itte  again. 
Be  firm  my  soul,  quick  from  this  scene  remove. 
Or  madness  else  may  be  too  strong  for  love. 
Spent  as  I  am,  and  wearied  with  tl^  weight 
<>rburthenhig  life—I  could  reverse  my  fete. 
Thus  planted-^etand  thy  everlasting  bar 

Siezes  him,  holding  a  dagger  at  his  breast;  Ama- 
dis  does  the  same,  each  holding  a  dagger  read^  to 
strike. 

But  for  Oriana's  sake  tis  better  here. 

Stahs  himu^;  AmadSi  throvos  away  his  dagger,  and 
supports  him :  they  ail  help. 

OftZAlTA. 

live,  generous  prince,  such  vutue  ne'er  thouM  die« 

OOMSTANTIDS. 

I  've  liv'd  enough,  of  all  I  wish,  possest. 
If  dying— I  may  leave  Oriana  ble^ 
The  last  warm  drop  forsakes  my  bleeding  heart ; 
O  Jjove  1  hnw  sure  a  murderer  thou  art.       [D'V* 
OBIAMA.       [fVeeping^ 

There  breaks  the  noblest  heart  that   ver  bum'd 
In  flames  of  love,  for  ever  to  be  moum'd. 

AMADIt. 

lavish  to  him,  you  wrong  an  equal  flame ; 
Had  he  been  lov'd,  my  heart  had  done  the  same. 

rLOIESTAM. 

O  emperor !  all  ages  roust  agree. 
Such,  but  pnore  happy,  should  all  Idvers  be. 
vaoAMOA.      [7b  Oriana. 
No  lover  now  throughout  the  world  remains. 
But  Amadis,  deservins  of  your  chains. 
Remove  that  moumliu  object  from  the  sight 

ICarry  off  the  body 


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LANSDOWNE'^  F0£MS. 


Ere  yon  bright  beams  are  shado%*d  o'er  with  night, 
The  stubborn  king  shall  license  your  delight; 
The  torch,  already  bright  with  nuptial  fire. 
Shall  bring  you  to  the  bridegroom  you  desre ; 
And  Honour,  which  so  long  has  kept  in  donbt. 
Be  better  pleas'd  to  yield,  than  to  hold  out 

Bourish  qf  all  the  nuttic.  The  stage  fUs  wtk 
singers  and  dancers,  in  the  habits  qf  heroes  and 
heroines, 

Urganda  conducts  Amadis,  Oria^^  ^c  (o  a  seat 
'    during  the  following  entertainment. 

First  voice. 
Make  room  for  the  combat,  make  room ; 

Sound  the  tnunpet  and  drum ; 
A  fiurer  than  Vemis  prepares 
To  encounter  a  greater  than  Mars. 
The  gods,  of  desire,  take  part  in  the  fray, 
And  Love 'sits  like  Jove  to  decide  the  great  day. 
Make  room  for  the  combat,  make  room ; 
Sound  the  tnmipet  and  drum. 
Second  u»ce. 
Give  the  word  to  begin. 
Let  the  combatants  in. 
The  challenger  enters  all  gk>rious;     - 
But  Love  has  decreed 
Though  Beauty  may  bleed. 
Yet  Beauty  shall  still  be  victorious. 

CHoaus. 
Make  room  for  thte  combat,  make  room ; 
Sound  the  trumpet  and  drum. 

Here  tm  parties  etUer  from  the  opposiU  sides  qf  the 
theatre,  armed  at  all  points,  marching  in  tvarlike 
order.  And  then  dance  several  Pyrrie  or  martial 
dances,  with  sivords  and  bucklers ;  which  ended, 
the  singers  again  advance* 

To  be  sung. 

Help!  help!  th*  unpractised  conqueror  cries ; 

He  faints,  befalls;  help!  help!  Ah  me!  he  dies: 
Gently  she  tries  to  raise  "his  head 
And  weeps,  alas  !  to  think  him  dead. 
Sound,  sound  a  charge — 'tis  war  again  ; 
Again  he  fights,  again  is  slam ;  , 

Again,  again,  help  !  help  !  she  cries 

He  £unt8,  he  folk,  help  I  help  1  Ah  me !  he  dies. 
Dance  of  heroes  and  heroines. 


Another  dance  <^  h§f04t  and  heroines. 
Then  a  full  cboros  qf  all  the   voices  and  inm 
siruments. 
Be  true,  all  ye  lovers,  wbaie'er  you  endure ; 
Though  cruel  the  pain  is,  how  sweet  is  the  core  1 

In  the  hour  of  possessing, 

8o  dtvine  is  the  Ueaiof .  1 

That  mm  ■nment's  obtaminf  , 

Pays  an  age  of  complaining. 
Be  tvne,  all  ye  krvers,  wbate'er  yoo  endore ; 
Though  cruel  the  pain  is,  how  sweet  is  the  ome ! 

Here  folhws  oairieUf  of  dances,  tohh  vA>db  ike  en- 
tertainment  conc&Sng,  Amadis,  Orhna,  Kc,  rise 
and  come  forvoerd, 

AMADIS. 

So  Phoebus  mounts  triumphant  in  the  skiea. 
The  clouds  disperse,  and  gloomy  horrour  Aiea  j 
Daricness  gives  place  to  the  victorious  tight. 
And  all  around  is  gay,  and  all  around  is  bright 

OtUKA. 

Our  present  joys  are  sweeter  fur  past  pain  s 
To  Love  and  Heaven,  by  suffering  we  attain. 

UIOAKDA. 

Whatever  the  virtuDui  and  the  just  endm^ 
Slow  the  reward  may  be,  but  always  sure. 

A  triumphant  fowrish  of  all  this  imtrumeni^  ara/ft 
which  the  play  concludes* 


Then  singers  again  come  forward. 
To  be  sung, 

Happy  pair. 

Free  from  care, 
Ei^oy  the  blessing 
Offfweetpossessiiig;  ' 

Free  fit>m  care, 

Happy  pair. 
Love  inviting. 
Souls  uniting; 

Desiring, 

Expiring; 
Enjoy  the  blessing 
Of  sweet  possessing ; 

Free  firom  care, 

Happy  pair. 


EPILOGUE, 

BY  TRI 


aiCHT  KONOUIABLS  JOSEPR   ADBISOIT,   UQ ; 


^VlrEN  Orpheus  tunM  his  pipe  with  pleasing  woe, 
Rivers  forgot  to  run,  and  winds  to  blow ; 
While  list'oing  forests  covered,  as  he  play'd. 
The  soft  musiciaa  in  a  moving  shade. 
That  this  nights  strains  the  same  succes  may  find. 
The  force  of  magic  is  to  beauty  join'd : 
WTiere  sounding  strings,  and  artful  v<noes  &U, 
The  charming  rod,  and  muttered  spells  prevaiL 
Let  sage  Ukganda  wave  the  circUng  wand 
On  barren  mountains,  or,a  waste  of  sand. 
The  desert  smiles,  the  woods  begin  to  grow. 
The  birds  to  warble,  and  the  springs  to  flow. 

The  same  dull  sights  in  the  same  landskip  mixt. 
Scenes  of  still  life,  and  points  for  ever  flxt, 
A  tedious  pleasure  oo  the  mind  bestow, 
And  pall  the  sense  with  one  continued  show : 
But  as  our  two  magicians  try  their  skill. 
The  vision  varies,  tho'  the  place  stands  still ; 
While  the  same  spot  its  gaudy  form  renews, 
ShifUng  the  prospect  to  a  thousand  views. 
Thus  (without  unity  of  place  transgressed) 
Th*  enchanter  turns  the  critic  to  a  jest 

But  howBoe'er  to  please  jrour  wand'ring  eyes. 
Bright  objects  disappear,  and  brighter  rise : 
There's  none  can  make  amends  for  k)6t  delight. 
While  from  that  chnde  i  we  ^rert  your  si^t 


iThe  ladies. 


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THE 


POEMS 


DR,   YALDEN. 


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THB 

LIFE  OF  YALDEN, 

BV  DJt.  JOHNSON. 


Thoiiab  Yaldbn,  die  sixth  son  of  Mr.  John  Tildeiit  of  Su^ez,  wm  bom  k 
the  dty  of  Eauter  m  l671.  Having  been  educated  m  the  gramnuu^tchool  belonghig 
to  Magdalen  Coll^mOxfi»d»hewat  in  l^,altfie  age  of  nineleen,  admitted  com- 
aMNier  of  M^^dakn  Hdl»  under  the  tuition  of  Jonah  Pullen,  a  man  whose  name  il 
ilHI  remembered  in  the  univenity.  He  became  next  year  one  of  the  schofaovof  Mag- 
dalen CoUege»  where  he  was  distinguished  bj  a  lucky  aecident> 

It  was  his  tum»  one  day^  to  pronounce  a  declamation ;  and  Dr.  Hough|  theptesidenl^ 
happening  to  attend,  thought  the  composition  too  good  to  be  the  speaker's.  Some 
time  after»  the  doctor  findbg  him  a  little  irregularly  busy  in  the  libnuy»  set  him  an  ex- 
ercise for  punishment;  and,  tfud  he  m%ht  not  be  deceived  by  any  artifice,  locked  the 
door.  Yalden,  as  it  happen^  had  been  lately  reading  on  the  subject  given,  and  pro- 
duced with  little  diflkultjT  a  composition  which  so  pleased  the  president,  that  he  tM- 
Um  his  former  suspicions,  and  promised  to  favour  him. 

Among  his  contemporaries  in  the  college  were  Addison  and  Sacheverell,  men  who 
were  in  those  times  fi^ds,  and  who  both  adopted  Yalden  to  their  iiUimacy.  Yaklcn 
continued,  throughout  his  life,  to  think  as  probably  he  thought  at  first,  yet  did  not  for* 
ieit  the  fiiendship  of  Addison. 

When  Namur  was  taken  by  king  William,  Yalden  made  an  ode.  There  never  wu 
any  reign  more  celebrated  by  the  poets  than  that  of  Williani,  who  had  very  little  m* 
gard  for  song  hhnself,  but  happened  to  employ  mmisters,  who  pleased  themselves  with 
the  praise  of  patronage. 

Of  this  ode  mention  is  made  in  a  humourous  poem  of  that  time,  called  The  Oxford 
Laorcat;  in  which,  after  many  claims  had  been  nmde  and  rejected,  Yaldten  is  repre*' 
Mated  as  demandug  the  laurel,  and  as  being  called  to  his  trial,  instead  of  receiviag  a 
ieward« 

Hk  crime  WM  for  l>eing  a  felon  in  vene. 

And  presenting  hii  theft  to  the  king ; 
The  first  was  a  trick  not  uncommon  or  scarce, 

Bot  the  last  was  ,an  impudent  thmg : 
Yet  what  he  had  stoPn  was  so  little  worth  stealmg, 

They  ibr^ve  him  the  damage  and  cost; 
Had  he  U'en  the  whole  ode,  as  he  took  it  piece-mealiikg. 

They  had  fin'd  him  hot  ten-penoe  at  most. 

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«•  UFE  OF  YALDEN. 

The  poet  whom  he  was  charged  with  robbing  was  Congreve. 

He  wrote  another  poem  on  the  death  of  the  duke  of  Gloucester, 

In  1700  he  became  fellow  of  the  college;  and  next  year,  entering  into  orders,  was 
presented  by  the  society  with  a  living  in  Warwickshire  \  consistent  with  his  feliowsh^, 
and  chosen  lecturer  of  moral  phflosc^y,  a  very  honourable  office^ 

On  the  accession  of  queen  Anne  he  wrote  another  poem ,  and  is  said>  by  tije  anthor 
of  the  Biographia,  to  have  dedared  himself  of  the  party  wh«  had  the  honourable  dis- 
tinction of  high-churchmen. 

In  1706  he  was  received  mto  the  family  of  the  duke  of  Beaufort  Next  year  he 
became  doctor  in  divinity,  and  soon  after  resigned  his  fellowship,  and  lecture ;  and,  as 
a  token  of  his  gratitude,  gave  the  college  a  {Ncture  of  their  founder. 

He  was  made  rector  of  Chalton  and  Cleanville  ^,  two  adjoining  towns  and  benefices 
in  Herifocdshire ;  and  bad  the  prebends,  or  sinecures,  of  Peans,  Hains,  and  Pendica, 
in  Devonshire.  He  had  before  ^  been  chosen,  in  1698,  preacher  of  BrideweH  hospital, 
upoD  the  resigniatioa  of  Dr.  Atterbury  ^ 

From  this  time  he  seems  to  have  led  a  quiet  -and  inofiebsive  life,  till  the  damoor  was 
raised  about  Atterbury's  plot  Every  leyal  eye  vmn  owtke  ^atch  ^'abeHors  or  par- 
lakers  of  the  horrid  conspiracy;  and  Dr.  Yalden,  luctlng  eome  ac<}iiilintance  with  the 
bishop,  and  being  famiharly  conversant  with  Kelly,  his  secretary,  fell  under  susptdon, 
and  was  taken  into  custody. 

Upon  hu  examination  he  was  charged  with  a  dangerous  correspondence  with  Kelly. 
The  correspondence  he  acknowledged ;  hot  maintained,  that  it  had  no  treaseznUe 
tendency.  His  papers  were  seieed ;  but  nothing  was  ibond  that  couM  ^x  a  trime  npoo 
hfan,  except  two  words  in  his  pocket-book,  **  thoroughpaced  doctrine."  Tliis  expressioo 
the  iraagmation  of  his  examiners  had  impregnated  with  treason,  and  the  doctor  was  en- 
joined to  explam  them.  Thus  pressed,  he  told  them,  that  the  words  had  lain  unheeded 
in  his  pocket-book  from  the  time  of  queen  Anne,  add  that  he  was  ashamed  to  give  an 
account  of  tfaeni';  but  the  truth  was,  that  he  had  gratifted  his  curiosity  one  day,  by 
hearing  Danid  Burgess  in  the  pulpit,  and  those  words  were  a  memorial  hint  <»f  a  re^ 
markable  sentence  by  which  he  warned  his  congregation  to  '*^  beware  of  thorough-' 
paced  doctrine,  that  doctrine,  whkh,  coming  m  at  one  ear,  paces  through  the  headg^ 
and  goes  out  at  the  other.'' 

Nothing  wor^e  than  this  appearing  in  his  papers,  and  no  evidence  arising  agamst  hidi^ 
he  was  set  at  liberty. 

It  will  not  be  suf^sed  that  a  man  of  this  character  attained  high  dignities  in  the 
church ;  but  he  still  retained  the  friendship,  and  frequented  the  conversation,  of  a  very 
numerous  and  splendid  set  of  acquaintance.     He  died  July  1$,  1736,  'm  the  6fith  year 

of  his  age. 

Of  his  poems,  many  are  of  that  utegular  kind,  which,  when  he  formed  his  poetical 
character,  was  supposed  to  be  Pindaric.      Having  fixed  his  attention  on  Cowley  as  a 

X  The  vicarage  of  Wttlougfaby,  which  he  resigned  in  1708.  N. 
s  This  preferment  was  given  him  by  the  duke  of  Beaufort.  JV. 
s  Not  till  long  after.  N, 

*  Dr.  Attorbury  retained  the  office  of  preacher  at  Bridewell  till  his  promotion  to  the  bishopric  of 
Roehester.    Dr.  Yalden  succc^ed  him  as  preacher  in  June,  1713.  A*. 


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LIFE  OF  YALDEN.  6l 

tnodeU  be  has  attempted  m  some  sort  to  rival  him,  and  has  written  a  Hymn  to  Dark- 
nessy  cfidently  as  a  counter^part  to  Cowley^s  Hymn  to  Light. 

This  hymn  seems  to  be  his  t>est  performance,  and  is,  for  the  most  part,  iiuagmed 
with  great  vigomr,  and  expressed  with  great  propriety.  I  will  not  transcribe  it  The  seven 
first  stancas  are  good ;  but  the  third,  fourth,  and  seventh,  are  the  best :  the  eighth 
teems  to  nivolve  a  contradiction ;  the  tentli  is  exquisitely  beautifiil ;  the  thirteenth,  four- 
tettitb,  and  fifteenth,  are  partly  mythological,  and  partly  religious,  and  therefore  not 
suitable  to  each  other:   he  might  better  have  made  the  whole  merely  philosophical. 

There  are  two  stanzas  in  this  poem  where  Yalden  may  be  suspected,  though  hardly 
conrided,  of  having  consulted  the  Hymnus  ad  Umbram  of  Wowerus,  in  the  sixth 
itaiua^  which  answers  in  some  sort  to  these  lines : 

Ilia  suo  pneest  noctaniis  nnmine  tacrit^- 
Perque  viae  errare  Doris  dat  spectra  figuris, 
Manesque  excitoe  medios  ululare  per  agrof 
Sub  noctem,  et  qaefta  notos  oomplere  penatet. 

Ami  agam,  at  the  concluMon : 

nia  suo  leiuam  sedudit  corpore  toko 
Hand  numeraiis  jugi  fugientia  secula  lapm ; 
Ergo  ubi  postremum  mundi  compage  soluti 
Hanc  renun  molem  suprema  absumpterit  boia, 
Ipta  level  cioeres  anbe  amplectetur  opaci, 
£t  prifco  imperio  rursuf  dominabitur  vmbiu. 

Hb  Hynm  to  Light  is  not  equal  to  the  other.  He  seems  to  think  that  there  b  an 
East  absolute  and  positive  where  the  Morning  rises. 

In  the  last  stansa,  having  mentioned  the  sudden  eruption  of  new-created  light,  he 
»ys. 

Awhile  th*  Almighty  wond'ring  stood. 

He  ought  to  have  remembered,  that  infinite  knowledge  can  never  wonder.  All  wonder 
is  the  effect  of  novelty  upon  ignorance. 

Of  his  other  poenis  it  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  they  deserve  perusal,  though  they  are 
not  always  exactly  polished,  though  the  rhymes  are  sometimes  very  ill  sorted,  and 
though  his  fisiults  seem  rather  the  omissions  of  idleness  than  the  negligencies  of  en- 
thusiasni. 


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POEMS 


OF 


DR.   YALDEN. 


ASAIHtt 

IMMODBRATB  GRIEF, 
rojk  rovnQ  lady  wumo. 


AH  out  XX  miTATIOIf  OF  CASimiB. 


CootD  mounifel  d|^  or  floods  of  teais,  prerent 
The  ills,  unhappy  men  lament : 
GoaM  sll  the  anguish  of  my  mind 

RoDove  my  cares,  or  make  but  Fortune  kind ; 
Soon  1  'd  the  grateful  tribute  pay. 
And  weep  my  troubled  thoughts  away : 

To  weaMi  and  pleasure  every  sigh  prefer, 

And  more  than  gems  esteem  each  fiUIing  tear. 

But,  since  insahai^  cares  are  most  inclm'd 
To  triumph  o^er  tii'  afflicted  mind  ; 
Sinoe  sighs  can  yieM  us  no  relief, 

And  tears,  like  fruitful  showers,  but  nourish  grief; 
Then  cease,  hir  mourner,  to  complain. 
Nor  lavish  such  bright  streams  in  vain. 

But  still  with  chearful  thoughts  thy  cares  beguile. 

And  tempt  tiiy  better  fortunes  with  a  smile. 

The  generous  mind  is  by  its  sufTerings  known. 
Which  no  affliction  tramples  down ; 
But  when  oppress'd  will  upward  move, 

i|Nmi  down  its  clog  of  cares,  and  soar  above, 
llnis  the  young  royal  eagle  tries 
On  the  sun-beuns  his  tender  eyes, 

And,  if  he  shrinks  not  at  th'  oflensive  light. 

He 's  then  for  empire  fit,  and  takes  his  soaring  fli^it, 

TboQgfa  cares  asmuH  thy  breast  on  every  side. 
Yet  bravely  stem  th'  impetuous  tide : 
No  tributarv  tears  to  Fortune  pay,        , 

Kor  add  to  any  loss  a  nobler  day  ; 


But  wMi  kind  hopos  support  tiiy  ndiid. 

And  think  thy  better  lot  behind : 
Aniddst  aflUctions  let  thy  soal  be  great, 
And  show  thou  dar'st  deserve  a  better  9ttte. 
Then,  lovely  moaner,  wipe  those  tears  away^ 

And  cares  that  urge  thee  to  decay ; 

like  ravenous  Age  thy  charms  th^  wasle^ 
Wrinkle  thy  yoathfbl  brow,  and  bkxmung  beauties 

Bat  keep  thy  kxiks  and  mmd  serene,     [blast 

All  gay  without,  all  calm  within ; 
For  Fate  is  aw*d,  and  adverse  Fortunes  fly 
A  chearfid  look,  and  fm  unconquer'd  eye. 


HYMN  TO  THE  MORNING. 

IN   PftAISE   OP   LIGHT. 

Pammt  of  Bay  !  whose  beauteous  beams  of  hght 
Sprh^  from  the  darksome  womb  of  Night, 
And  midst  their  native  horrours  show. 

Like  gems  adorning  of  the  Negro's  brow: 
Not  HeavVs  £Eur  bow  can  equal  thee. 
In  all  its  gaudy  drapery ; 

Thou  first  essay  of  hght,  and  pledge  of  ^y  1 

That  usher'st  in  the  Sun,  and  still  prepai'st  its  way. 

Bival  of  Shade,  eternal  spring  of  light ! 
Thou  art  the  genume  source  o^  it : 
From  thy  bright  unexhausted  womb. 

The  beauteous  race  of  Days  and  Seasons  comew 
Thy  beauty  ages  Cannot  wrong. 
But,  spight  of  Time,  thoa  'rt  ever  young : 

Thou  art  alone  Heaven*s  modest  virgin  light. 

Whose  face  a  veil  of  blushes  hides  from  humansight 

Like  some  ^r  bride  thou  risest  from  thy  bed, 
And  dost  around  thy  lustre  spread; 
.  Around  the  universe  dispense 

New  life  to  all,  and  quickening  influence. 


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64 


^ALDEN'S  POEMS. 


With  gloomy  nnikt  thy  riTil  Night 
Beholds  thv  glorious  dawn  of  light : 
Kot  all  the  wealth  she  views  in  mines  below 
Can  match  thy  brighter  beams,  or  equal  lustre  show. 

At  thy  approach,  Kature  erects  her  head. 

The  smiling  Universe  is  glad; 

The  drowsy  Earth  aAd  $e«a  awake. 
And  from  thy  beams,  new  life  and  vigour  talce : 

When  thy  more  chearfbl  rays  ^pear, 

Ev*n  Quilt  and  women  cease  to  fear : 
Horrour,  Despair,  an4  all  the  sons  of  Night 
Ilotire  before  thy  beams,  and  take  their  hasty  flight. 

To  thee,  the  grateful  East  their  altars  raise, 
And  sing  with  early  hymns  thy  praise ; 
Thou  dost  their  happy  soil  bestow, 

Enrich  the  Heavens  above,  and  Earth  below : 
Thou  risest  in  the  fragrant  East,  , 
like  the  lair  Phccnix  firom  her  baliny  best : 

No  altBif  of  the  gods  can  equal  thine,         [shrine ! 

The  Air 's  thy  richest  incense,  the  whole  land  thy 

But  yet  thy  fadii^  glories  soon  decay. 

I'hine  's  but  a  momentary  stay ; 

Too  soon  thou  'rt  ravish'd  from  our  sight. 
Borne  down  the  stream  of  day,  and  overwhelmed  with 

Hiy  beams  to  their  own  ruin  haste,        [light. 

They  're  fram'4  too  exquisite  to  last: 
Thme  is  a  glorious,  but  a  short-livM  states 
Pity  so  fair  a  birth  should  yield  so  soon  to  Fate ! 

Before  th'  Almighty  Ar6st  framed  the  sky. 

Or  gave  the  £arth^it•  hi&rmony. 

His  first  cominand  was  lor  thy  light : 
He  view*d  the  lovelv  birth,  and  blessed  it: 

In  purple  swaddling-bands  it  stnigglmg  lay, 

Not  yK  maturely  bright  for  day : 
Old  Chaos  then  a  chearful  smile  put  on,  [own 

And,  from  thy  beauteous  form,  did  first  presage  its 

'*  Let  thejre  be  Tfj^ht !"  the  gh?at  Creator  said,     * 
His  word  the  actiA-c  child  obey'd : 
Night  did  her  teeming  womb  disclose ; 

And  then  the  bliishi»icM<»ni,  its  brightest  olBspriog, 
Awhile  th*  Almighty  wondering  viei»'d,  [rosks 
And  tlien  himself  pronouiic'd  it  good : 

'*  With  Night,"  said  he,  *•  divkleth' imperials* ay; 

Thou  uiy  first  laliour  art,  and  thou  shalt  blesa»  the 
Day'^ 


'  JIYMS  TO  DARKXESS. 

Dabkniss,  thou  first  great  parent  of  us  all. 

Thou  art  our  great  original : 

Since  from  thy  universal  womb 
Does  all  thou  shad*st  below,  thy  numerous  of&pring, 
come. 

Thy  wondrous  birth  is  ev'n  to  Time  unknown. 
Or,  like  Eternity,  thou  Mst  none ; 
Whilst  Light  did  its  first  berog  owe 

Unto  that  awful  shade  it  dares  to  rival  now. 

Say,  m  what  distant  region  dott  thoa  dwell, 

To  reason  inaccessible  ? 

From  form  and  duller  matter  fVee, 
Thou  soar^  above  the  reach  of  man's  pluksopby. 


Involved  in  thee,  we  first  receive  our  breafh, 
ThoQ  art  our  reftige  too  in  death. 
Great  monarch  of  the  grave  and  womb,  [c 

Where-e'er  our  souls  shall  go,  to  thee  our  bodiet 

The  silent  Globe  is  struck  with  awful  fiemr. 
When  thy  mijestic  shades  appear: 
Thou  dost  compose  the  Air  ud  Sea, 

And  Earth  a  sabbath  keeps,  sacred  to  Rest  and  tbeew 

In  thy  serener  riiades  our  ghosts  delight, 
^  AhA  court  themnbrage  of  the  Night; 
Iif  vaidts  and  gloomy  caves  they  stray. 
But  fly  the  Mommg's  beams,  and  sicken  at  the  Day* 

Though  solid  bodies  dare  exclude  the  li|^ 

Nor  will  the  brightest  ray  admit ; 

No  substance  can  thy  force  repel, 
Thou  reign'st  in  depths  below,  dost  in  the  centre  dwdL 

The  sparkling  gems,  and  Ore  in  mmes  below. 
To  thee  their  beauteous  lustre  owe; 
Though  fbrm'd  within  the  womb  of  Nigbt, 

Bright  as  tlieir  sire  tliey  fihitte,with  native  rays  oAght 

When  thou  dost  raise  thy  venerable  head. 

And  art  tn  genuine  Night  array'd. 

Thy  Negro  beauties  then  delight ;        [bfigbt. 
Beauties,  like  poUsk'd  jet,  with  their  own  dmikneM 

Thou  dost  thy  smiles  impartially  bestow. 
And  know'st  no  di£fereiK»  here  below : 
All  things  appear  the  same  by  thee. 

Though  Light  distinction  makes,  thougiv'st  equality. 

Thou,  Darkness,  art  the  lover's  kind  retreat. 
And  dost  the  imptial  joys  oomplcat; 
Hioa  dost  inspire  thm.  with  thy  shade,  [maid. 

Giv'st  vigour  to  the  youth,  and  warm'flt  the  yielding 

Calm  as  the  blesi'd  above  the  anchorites  dwell. 
Within  their  peaccibl  gloomy  celL 
Their  minds  with  heaverUy  joys  are  fiU'd ; 

The  pleasures  Light  deny,  thy  slmdet  for  ever  yield} 

,  In  caves  of  Night,  the  oracles  Of  old 
Did  all  their  mysteries  unfold : 
Darkness  did  first  Religion  grace, 
Gave  terrours  to  the  God,and  reverence  to  the  place. 


\yhGB  the  Almighty  did  on  Horeb  i 

Thy  shades  encios'd  the  hnUow'd  land: 
In  clouds  of  Night  he  was  array'd. 

And  venerable  Darkness  his  pavilion  made. 

When  he  appear'd  arm*d  m  his  power  and  might. 

He  veird  the  beatific  Light  j 

When  terrible  with  majesty. 
In  tempests  he  gave  laws,  and  dad  hhnself  in  tbee^ 

Ere  the  fooodation  of  the  Eartti  was  laid. 
Or  brighter  fiirmament  was  made; 
Ere  matter,  time,  or  place,  was  known. 

Thou,  monarc^  Darkness,  sway'dst  these  spacious 
realms  alone. 

But,  now  the  Moontthongh  gay  with  bsmowM  light) 
Invades  thy  scanty  lot  of  Night, 
By  rebel  subjects  thou  'rt  betray'd. 

The  anarchy  of  Stars  depose  their  monarch  Shade. 

Yet  fiiding  IJght  its  empire  must  resign. 
And  Nature's  power  submit  to  thine: 

A  J  ^^^^^pal  ruin  shall  erect  thy  throne. 

And  FWe  confix  thy  kingdom  eveiinorr^y  owa. 


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HUMAN  UFE. 


65 


BUMjiK  LIFE, 

•VPPOt«»  to  IS  tPOKBH  BY   AN   BPICDKE. 

W    XMITATIOM  or  THX    tlCOND    CHATTU  OF  TBI 

WtSOOM   OF  SOLOMOH. 

TO  THE  IjOKD  HUNSDON. 

A  PINOABIC  OX»B. 

Tbbb  will  penurious  Heaven  uo  more  allow  ? 

No  more  od  its  own  darling  Man  bestow  ? 
d  it  for  tfats  be  lord  of  all  ^pears. 

And  his  great  Maker's  ima^  bears  ? 

To  toil  beneath  a  wretched  state. 

Oppress^  with  miseries  and  fate; 

Beneath  hb  painful  burthen  groan. 
And  in  this  beaten  road  of  life  drudge  ou  ! 

Amidst  our  laboors,  we  possets 

No  kind  allays  of  happiness : 

No  softening  joys  can  call  our  own,    . 

Tb  make  this  bitter  drug  go  down ; 

Whilst  Death  an  easy  conquest  gains. 
And  the  insatiate  Grare  in  endless  triumj^  reigns. 
With  throea  and  pangs  into  the  world  we  come^ 

Hie  cuiie  and  burthen  of  the  womb  : 

Nor  wretched  to  ourselves  alone. 
Our  mothen*  labours  introduce  our  own. 
In  cries  and  tears  our  infiuicy  we  waste. 

Those  sad  prophetic  tears,  that  flow 

By  instinct  of  our  future  woe  : 
iad  ev*n  our  dawn  of  life  with  sorrows  overcast 

Thus  we  toil  out  a  restless  age. 

Each  his  laborious  part  must  have, 
Down  from  the  monarch  to  the  slave, 
ict  o'er  this  fiuce  of  life,  then  drop  beneath  the  stage. 

Ftom  our  first  drawing  vital  breath. 

From  our  Qrst  starting  from  the  womb, 

Until  we  reach  the  d^n'd  tomb. 
We  all  are  posting  on  to  the  dark  goal  of  death, 
life,  like  a  cloud  that  fleets  befbre  the  wind. 
No  mark,  no  kind  impression,  leaves  behind, 

Tis  scattered  like  the  winds  that  blow, 
BoBterous  as  them,  full  as  inconstant  too,      fga 
That  know  not  whence  they  come,  nor  where  they 

Here  we're  detained  a  while,  and  then 

Bec(Mne  originals  again  : 
Thne  diaU  a  man  to  his  first  self  restore. 
And  make  him  entire  nothing,  all  he  was  before. 
No  part  of  us,  no  remnant,  shall  survive ! 
And  yet  we  impudently  say,  we  live ! 
No !  we  but  ebb  into  ourselves  again, 
Ani  only  come  to  be,  as  we  had  never  been. 

^y,  learned  Sage,  thou  that  art  mighty  wise ! 

Unriddle  me  these  mysteries ; 

What  is  the  soul,  the  vital  heat, 

That  our  mean  frame  does  animate  ? 

What  is  our  breath,  the  breath  of  man, 
tliat  buoys  his  nature  up,  and  does  evhi  life  sustain  ? 

Is  it  not  air,  an  empty  fume, 

A  fire  that  does  itself  consume ; 

A  warmth  that  in  a  heart  is  bred, 
A  hmbent  flame  witii  heat  and  motion  fed  ? 

^Elingniih  that,  thetwhole  is  gone, 

This  boasted  scene  of  life  is  done  : 

Away  the  phantom  takes  its  flight, 
I^^oui'd  toa  loatbiopie  grave,  and  aaataml  night, 
VOL.  XL 


The  soul  th'  immortal  part  we  boast, 
-  In  one  consuming  minute  's  lost ; 
To  its  first  source  it  nrast  repair. 
Scatter  with  winds,  and  flow  with  common  air. 
Whilst  the  fall'n  body,  by  a  swift  decay. 

Resolves  into  its  native  day  : 
For  dust  and  ashes  are  its  second  birth) 
And  that  inoorporates  too  with  its  great  parent,  £aith.  ^ 

Nor  shall  our  names  our  memories  survive, 

Alas,  no  part  of  man  can  live ! 

The  empty  blasts  of  fame  shall  die, 
And  even  thos^  oothings«taste  mortality. 
In  vain  to  future  ages  we  transmit 
Heroic  acts,  and  monuments  of  wit : 

In  vain  we  dear4x>ught  honours  leava. 
To  make  our  ashes  gky,  and  furnish  out  a  gravie. 

Ah,  treacherous  Inunortality  !  ^ 

For  tl^  our  stock  of  youth  we  waste. 

And  urge  on  life,  that  ebbs  too  fast. 
To  purchase  .thee  with  blood,  the  valiant  fly; 
And,  to  survive  m  fame,  the  great  and  glorious  die. 
Lavish  of  life,  they  squander  this  estate. 

And  for  a  poor  reversion  wait : 
Bankrupts  and  misers  to  themselves  they  grow. 
Embitter  wretched  hfe  with  toils  and  woe,  [how. 
To  hoard  up  endless  feme,  they  know  not  where  or 

Ah,  think,  my  friends,  how  swift  the  minutes  haste  1 
The  present  day  entirely  is  our  own 
Then  sieze  the  blessing  ere  'tis  gone : 
To-morrow,  fetal  sound !  smce  this  may  be  our  last^ 
Why  do  we  boast  of  3rears,  and  sum  up  days  \ 
'TIS  all  imaginary  spac^  : 
To-day,  to-day,  is  our  inheritance, 
^Tis  all  penurious  Fate  will  give 
Posterity  Ml  to-morrow  live,  [hence. 

Our  sons  crowd  on  behind,  our  children  drive  us 
With  garlands  then  your  temples  crown, 
.    And  lie  on  beds  of  roses  down  : 
Beds  of  roses  we'll  prepare, 
Roses  that  our  emblems  are ; 
A  while  they  flourish  on  the  bough, 
And  drink  large  draughts  of  heavenly  dew  t 
like  us  they  smile,  are  young  and  gay. 
And,  like  us  too,  are  tenants  for  a  day,      [away. 
Since  with  Night's  blasting  breath  they  vanish  swift 

Bring  cheerful  wine,  and  costly  sweets  prepare  i 
Tis  more  than  frenzy  now  to  spare: 
Let  cares  and  business  wait  a  while  ; 
Old  age  affords  a  thinking  mterval : 
Or,  if  they  must  a  longer  hearing  have. 
Bid  them  attend  below,  adjourn  into  the  grave. 
Then  gay  and  sprightly  wine  produce. 
Wines  that  wit  and  mirth  infuse : 
That  feed,  like  oil,  th'  expiring  flame,  [frame. 
Revive  our  drooping  souls,  .and  prop  this  tottering 
That,  when  the  grave  our  boduss  has  engrois^d. 
When  virtues  riiall  forgotten  lie^ 
With  all  their  boasted  piety. 
Honours  and  titles,  like  ourselves,  be  lost  £ 
Then  our  recorded  vice  shall  flourish  on. 
And  our  inunortal  riots  be  for  ever  known. 

This,  this,  is  what  we  ought  to  do. 
The  great  design,  the  grand  af&ir  below  I 
Since  bounteous  Nature^s  placed  our  steward  here. 
Then  man  his  grandeur  should  maintain. 
And  in  excess  of  pleasure  reign. 
Keep  up  hit  character,  and  lord  of  all  apptar. 
P 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ IC 


66 


YALDEN'S  POEMS. 


AGAINST  ENJOYMENT. 


Wb  love  and  hate,  as  restless  monarehs  fight, 
Who  boldly  dare  iiiTade  another's  right : 
Yet,  when  through  all  the  dangerous  toils  they've  run, 
JgiM^ly  quH  the  conquests  they  have  won  ; 
ThofACharming  hopes,  that  maJde  them  valiant  grow, 
Pall'd  with/eijoyment,  make  them  cowards  now. 

Our  painoiis  only  form  our  happiness, 
Hopes  still  enlarge,  as  fears  contract  it  less^ 
Hope  with  a  gatMly  prospect  feeds  the  eye, 
Sooths  every  sense,  does  with  each  wish  comply  ; 
But  false  Ei\)oyment  the  kind  guide  destroys. 
We  lose  the  passion  in  the  treacherous  joys. 
tike  the  gay  lilk-worm,  when  it  pleases  most. 
In  that  ungrateful  web  it  spun,  *tis  lost . 

FruitiDn  only  cloys  the  appetite  ; 
More  does  the  conquest,,  than  the  prize  delight : 
One  victory  gain  d,  another  fills  ihe  mind. 
Our  restless  wishes  cannot  be  cunfin'd. 
Like  boisterous  waves,  no  settled  bounds  they  know, 
•Fix'd  at  no  point,  but  always  ebb  or  flow. 

Who  mort  expects,  eiyo3rs  the  pleasure  most, 
^Tis  rab*d  by  wishes,  by  fruition  lost : 
We  're  c'harm'd  with  distant  views  of  happiness. 
But  near  approaches  make  the  prospect  less. 
Wishes,  like  painted  laoAscspa,  best  delight. 
Whilst  distance  recommends  them  to  the  sight : 
Placed  afar  off,  tliey  beautiful  appear ; 
But  show  their  coarse  and  nauseous  colours,  near. 

Thus. the  fiunM  Midas,  when  he  found  his  store 
Increasing  still,  and  would  admit  of  more, 
With  eager  arms  his  swelling  bags  he  pressed  j 
And  estpectation  only  made  htm  bless*d  : 
But,  when  a  boundless  treasure  he  enjoy'd, 
And  every  wish  was  with  fruition  cloy'd  : 
Then,  danm'd  to  heaps,  and  surfeited  with  ore. 
He  cyr8*d  that  gold  he  doated  on  before 


THE  CURSE  OF  BABYLON. 

ISAUDy  GRAF.  XIH.   rABAPHaASIO. 

A  PINDARIC  ODE. 

Now  let  the  fhtal  banner  be  displayed  ? 
Upon  some  lofty  mountain's  top 
Go  set  the  dreadfiU  standard  up ! 
.And  all  aiwmd  the  hUls  the  bloody  signals  spread. 
For,  lo,  the  numerous  hosts  of  Heaven  appear  I 
Th'  embattled  legions  of  the  sky. 
With  all  their  dread  artillery. 
Draw  forth  in  bright  array,  »«>«*  ""i^  In  the  air. 
Why  do  the  raounUhia  tremble  with  Oie  noise, 
And  vallies echo  bs^tbehr voice? 
The  hills  tumultuonf  grow  and  loud, 
The  hi  lis  that  groan  beneath  the  gathcri^multitude. 
Wide  as  the  poles  of  Heaven**  ^dai^ 
So  far 's  the  dreadful  «miiiooai|ent : 
Kincdoms  and  nations  at  WicaU^ipear, 
(Pafev^the  Ix*dof  H08tscomiii«wl»i»P«««  t^^ 


Stort  from  thy  lethargy,  thou  drowsy  layl^ 
Awake,  and  hear  his  dread  commaiid ! 
Thy  black  tempestuous  day  comes  towering  oi^ 
O  fiital  light  !  O  inauspicious  hour  ! 
Was  ever  such  a  day  before ! 
So  stain'd  with  bfood,  by  marks  of  vengeance  known. 
Nature  shall  from  her  steady  course  remove. 
The  well-flx'd  lilarth  be  from  its  basis  rejit. 
Convulsions  shake  the  firmanient ; 
Horroor  seize  all  below,  confusion  reign  above. 
The  stars  of  Heaven  shall  sicken  at  the  sight. 
Nor  shall  the  planets  yield  their  light: 
But  from  the  wretched  objftct  fly,  ^ 

And,  hke  ejctinguishM  tapers,  quit  the  daiken'dskyr 
lie  rising  Sun,  as  he  was  cunscious  too. 
As  he  the  fatal  business  knew, 
A  deep,  a  bloody  red  shall  stam. 
And  at  his  early  dawn  shall  set  in  night  agam. 

To  the  destroymg  sword  I '  ve  said,  "  Go  fbrth. 

Go,  fiilly  execute  my  wrath ! 
Command  my  boats,  my  willing  armies  lead ; 
For  this  rebellious  land  and  all  therein  shall  bleed.'' 
They  shall  not  grieve  me  more,  no  more  transgress  j 

I  will  consume  the  stubborn  race: 
Yet  brutes  aad  savages  I  justly  spare; 

Useless  is  all  my  vengeance  there; 
Ungratefiil  man  *•  the  greater  monster  far. 
On  guiltless  beasts  I  will  the  land  bestow. 

To  them  th*  inheritance  shall  go ; 
Thoae  elder  brothers  now  shall  lord  it  here  bdow : 
And,  if  some  poor  remains  escape  behind. 

Some  relics  left  of  lost  mankind ; 
Th'  astonish'd  herds  shall  in  their  cities  cry. 
When  they  behold  a  man,  "  Lo,  there  »8  a  prodigy  !" 

The  Medes  I  call  to  my  assisUnce  here, 

A  people  that  delight  in  war ! 
A  generous  race  of  men,  a  nation  free 
From  vicious  eisr  and  Persian  luxury. 
Silver  is  despicable  in  their  eyes. 
Contemn  d  the  useless  metal  lies  : 
Their  conquering  iron  they  prefer  before 
Tlie  finest  gold,  ev'n  Ophir's  tempting  ore. 
By  these  the  land  shall  be  subdued. 
Abroad  their  bows  shall  overcome. 
Their  swords  and  flames  destroy  at  home  ; 
For  neither  sex  nor  age  shall  be  exempt  from  blood. 
The  nobles  and  the  princes  of  tliy  state 
Shall  on  the  victor's  triumphs  wait  : 
And  those  that  from  the  battle  fled 
Sliall  be,  with  chains  oppressed,  in  cruel  bondage  led. 

I  '11  viat  their  distress  with  plagues  and  miseries. 
The  throes  that  womens'  labours  wait, 
Convttlnve  pangs,  and  bloody  sweat. 
Their  beauty  shall  consume,  and  vital  spirits  seize. 
The  ravish'd  virgins  shall  be  home  away. 
And  their  dishowmr'd  wives  be  led 
To  the  insulting  victor's  bed. 
To  brutal  lusts  expos'd,  to  fury  (eft  a  prey. 
Kor  shall  the  teeming  womb  afford 
Its  forming  births  a  refuge  from  the  sword  ; 
The  sword,  that  shall  their  pangs  increase. 
And  all  the  throes  of  travail  curse  with  bamennen. 
The  in&nU  shall  expire  with  their  first  bceath« 

And  only  live  in  pangs  of  deatii ; 
live  but  with  early  cries  to  cur^  the  light. 
And,  at  the  dawuof  life,  sa  in  eternal  night. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ErtSTOLARY  ODE. 


67 


E9*n  Babylon^  adoni'd  with  etery  grace. 

Hie  beauty  of  the  universe : 
Glory  cfutioiit!  tl^  ChaMaean' pride» 
•   Andjoyofall  th' admiring  vorU  beside: 
Tboo,  Babylon  ?  before  whose  throne 
The  empires  of  the  EarUi  fiiU  down  | 
The  prostrate  nations  homage  pay. 
And  vassal  princes  of  the  world  obey  : 
Shalt  in  the  dust  be  trampled  low : 
Alject  and  low  upon  the  Earth  be  laid. 
And  deep  in  rains  hide  thy  ignomhuoos  head. 
Thy  strong  amazing  walls,  whose  inqnoos  height 

The  cIo«ids  conceal  fit>m  human  sight ; 
That  proudly  now  their  pdish'd  turrets  rear. 

Which  bright  as  neighbouring  stars  appear. 
Dousing  glories  round  th'  enlightened  air. 
In  flam^  shall  downwards  to  their  centre  fly, 
And  de^  within  the  Earth,  as  their  fonndationf,  lie.' 

Thy  beauteous  palaces  (though  now  thy  pride)  ! 
SbaU  be  in  heaps  ofashes  hid  : 
•  In  vast  surprizing  heaps  shall  lie. 
And  er^  their  ruins  bear  the  pomp  of  nujesty. 
No  bold  inhabitant  dudl  dare 
Thy  rasM  foundations  to  repair : 
Ko  pitjring  hand  eiah  thy  atgect  state  ; 
Ko!  to  sncceedmg  times  thou  must  remain 

An  horrid  exemplary  scene. 
And  lie  from  age  to  age  ruin*d  and  desolate. 
Thy  &I1  *s  decreed  (amazing  turn  of  fate !) 
Low  as  Gomorrah*s  wretched  state  : 
Thou,  Babylon,  shalt  be  Kke  Sodom  curst. 
Destroyed  by  flames  from  Heaven,  and  thy  moie 
bonung  hut. 
The  day  t  at  hand,  when  hi  thy  fruitful  soil 
No  labourer  shall  reap,  no  mower  toil : 
His  tent  the  wandering  Arab  shall  not  spread, 

Kor  make  thy  cursed  ground  his  bed  ^ 
lliough  fiunt  with  travel,  though  opprest  wilh 
He  to  his  drooping  herds  shall  cry  aloud,  [thirst, 
'<Taste  not  of  that  embittered  flood, 
Taste  not  Euphrates*  streams,  they're  poisonous  all, 
and  curst" 
Tlie  diepherd  to  his  wandering  flocks  shall  say. 

When  o*er  thy  battlements  they  stray. 
When  in  thy  pahices  they  graze, 
**  Ah,  fly,  unhappy  flocks !  fly  this  infections  place.'' 
Whilst  the  sad  traveller,  that  passes  on. 

Shall  ask,  ''Lo,  where  is  Babylon  ?" 
And  when  he  has  thy  small  remainder  found,  ' 
^nuO  say,  'Mllflyfiromhence,  'tb  sure  accursed 
ground." 

Then  shall  the  savages  and  beasts  of  prey 
From  their  deserted  monotidns  haste  away  ; 
Every  obscene  and  Tulgar  beast 
Shall  be  to  Babykm  a  guest : 
Her  marble  roo&,  and  every  cedar  room, 
Shall  dens  and  caves  of  state  to  nobler  brutes  become. 
Thy  courts  of  justice,  and  tribunals  too, 
(O  irony  to  call  them  so  !) 
«  There,  where  the  tyrant  and  oppressoi  bore 
The  spoib  of  innocence  and  blood  before  j 
There  shall  the  wolf  and  savage  tiger  meet, 
A^|ripiiMf  vulture  shall  iqipear  in  state,  [great 
There  bmb  of  prey  shall  rule,  and  ravenous  bouts  be 
Those  unoorrnpted  diall  remain. 
Those  shall  akne  their  genuine  use  retam. 
There  Vjolence  shall  thrive,  Rapine  and  Fraud  sbaU 
reign. 


Then  shall  the  melancholy  Satyrs  grdttn, 

Cer  their  lamented  Babylon ;    ^ 
'  And  ghosts  that  glide  with  herrour  by. 
To  view  where  their  unhury'd  bodies  lie, 
Widi  dolefo]  cries  shall  fiU  the  air. 
And  with  amazement  strike  th'  affirighted  traveller. 
There  the  obscener  birds  of  night. 
Bods  that  in  gloomy  shades  deli^ 
Siall  solitude  enjoy,  live  undisturbed  by  light    ' 
All  the  ill  omens  of  the  air 
Shidl  scream  their  loud  presages  there. 
But  let  them  all  thenr  dire  predictioos  teU, 
Secure  in  ills,  and  fortiiyd  with  woe. 

Heaven  shall  in  vain  its  f\iture  veageance  show: 
For  thou  art  happily  insensible, 

Beneath  the  reach  of  miseries  fell,       f  fear. 
Thou  need*st  no  desohition  dread,  no  greater  curKt 


TO  ' 

Aflt  CONGREVE: 
AN  EPISTOLARY  ODE; 

1693. 

OCCASIONED  BY  THI   "  OLD  lACHBLOR.*' 

Fam'd  wits  and  beauties  share  this  common  fot^ 
To  stand  expos'd  to  public  love  and  hate, 
In  every  breast  they  different  passions  raise. 
At  once  our  envy,  and  our  praise. 
For  when,  like  you,  some  noble  youth  appears. 
For  wit  and  humour  fom'd  above  his  years ; 
Each  emulous  Muse,  that  views  the  laurel  won. 
Must  praise  the  worth  so  much  transcends  theii^ 
own' 
,And,  while  his  fiune  they  envy,  add  to  his  renown, 
But  sure,  like  yon,  no  youth  couhl  please. 
Nor  at  his  first  attempt  boast  such  success  : 
^¥here  dl  mankind  have  fieul^d,  you  glories  won  ; 
Triumphant  are  in  this  alone« 
In  this,  have  all  the  bards  of  old  out-done. 

Then  may *st  thou  rule  our  stage  in  triumj^  long ! 

May>it  thou  its  iijur'd  fome  revive. 
And  matchless  proofr  of  wit  and  humour  give, 
Refotming  with  thy  scenes,  and  charming  with  thy 
And  though  a  curse  ill-Gited  wit  pursues,  [song  ! 
And  waits  the  fotal  dowry  of  a  Muse  : 
Yet  may  thy  rising  footunes  be 
Secure  from  all  the  blasts  of  poetry  i 
As  thy  own  laurels  flourishing  appear,        [foar  ! 
XJnsuUy'd  stiQ  with  cares,  nor  clogg*d  with  hope  and 
As  from  its  wants,  be  from  its  rices  free,. 

From  nauseous  servile  flattery  i 
Nor  to  a  p«tron  prostitute  thy  mhid, 
Thougli  like  Augustus  great,  as  fom'd  Mccenas  kind. 

Though  gi«at  in  feme  1  believe  me,  generous 
TonUi, 
Believe  this  oft-ezpeiienc*d  truth,         [worth. 
From  hun  that  kpows  thy  virtues,  and  admirertheir 
Though  thott'it  ahov«  what  vulgar  poets  fear. 

Trust  not  the  ungrateful  world  too  fer ; 
Trust  not  the  smilef  of  the  inconstant  town ; 
Trust  not  the  pteodits  of  a  theatre  [Uutre; 

(Which  Durfey  shall  with  thee  and  t^ryden 
Nor  to  a  stage's  hiterest  sacrifice  thy  own. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


-    «?8 


YALDEN^  POEMS. 


Thy  genios,  that^s  for  nobler  thingf  desigii'd, 

May  at  loose  hours  oblige  mankind  : 
Then,  great  as  is  thy  feme,  thy  fortunes  raise. 
Join  thriving  interest  to  thy  barren  bajrs. 

And  teach  the  world  to  envy,  as  thou  dott  to  praise. 
The  world,  that  does  like  common  whores  embrace, 
Injurious  Atjll  to  those  it  does  caress  : 
Injurious  as  the  tamted  breath  of  Fame, 

That  blast!  a  poet's  fertiAics,  while  it  sounds  his  name. 

Wheh  first  a  Muse  inflames  some  youthful  breast, 
Like  an  unpractised  virgin,  still  she  's  kind  : 
Adom*d  with  graces  then,  and  beauties  blest, 
She  charms  the  ear  with  fame,  with  raptures  fills  the 

mind. 
Tlten  from  all  cares  the  hippy  youth  is  free, 
But  those  of  love  and  poetry  : 
Cares,  still  allay'd  with  pleasing  charms, 
That  crown  the  head  with-  bays,  with  beauty  fill  the 
But  all  a  woman's  frailties  soon  she  shows,  [arms. 
Too  soon  a  stale  domestic  creature  grows : 
Then,  wedded  to  a  Muse  that's  nauseous  grown 
"We  loath  what  we  enjoy,  drudge  when  the  pleasure's 
For,  tempted  with  imaginary  bays,  [gone. 

Fed  with  immortal  hopes  and  empty  praise» 
He  Fame  pursues,  that  feir  and  treacherous  bait, 
"Grows  wise  when  he  *b  undone,  repents  when  'tis  too 
late. 

Small  are  the  trophies  of  his  boasted  ba3rs, 
The  great  man's  promise  for  his  flattering  toil. 
Fame  hi  reversion,  and  the  public  smile, 
All  vainer  than  his  hopes,  uncertain  as  his  praise. 
'Twas  thus  in  mournful  numbers  heretofore. 
Neglected  Spenser  did  his  fete  deplore  : 
Long  did  his  injured  Muse  complain, 
Admir'd  in  midst  (^  wants,  and  charming  still  in  vain. 
Long  did  the  generous  Cowley  mourn. 
And  long  oblig'd  the  age  without  return. 
Deny'd  what  every  wretch  obtains  of  Fate, 
An  hinnble  roof  and  an  obscure  retreat, 
Coodemn'd  to  needy  feme,  and  to  be  miserably  ^reat 
Thus  did  the  world  thy  great  fore-fathere  use  ; 

Thus  all  th'  Inspired  hards  before 
Bid  their  hereditary  ills  deplore  j 
Fwjm  tuneful  Chaucer's  down  to  thy  own  Dryden's 
Muse. 

Yet  pleas'd  with  gaudy  ruin  youth  will  on. 
As  proud  by  public  feme  to  be  undone  ; 
Pleas'd,  though  he  does  the  worst  of  labours  chuse, 
To  serve  a  barlKirous  age,  and  an  ungrateful  Muse. 
Sinoe  Dryden's  self,  to  Wit's  great  empire  bom. 

Whose  genius  and  exalted  name 
Triumph  with  all  the  spoils  of  Wit  and  Fame, 
Must,  'midst  the  kmd  applause,  hit  barren  laurels 
^oum. 
Ev'n  that  fem'd  man,  mhom  aD  the  world  admires. 
Whom  every  Grace  adorns,  and  Muse  inspires, 
like  the  great  injured  Taaso,  shows 
Triumphant  in  the  midit  of  woes  ; 
In  an  his  wants,  m^iestic  still  ^)pears, 
Cbamioig  the  age  to  whtcb  he  owes  his  cares. 
And  cberiihiBff  thatMuae  whose  fetal  cune  he  betrs. 


THE   iNSEdr. 

agaikst  bulk. 
Inest  sua  gratia  parvii^ 

Wheei  greatness  is  to  Nature's  works  dfloy'd. 
In  worth  and  beauty  it  is  well  supply^d  : 
In  a  small  space  the  more  perfection  's  thowi^ 
And  what  is  exquisite  in  little 's  done. 
Thus  beams,  contracted  in  a  narrow  gfeis. 
To  flames  convert  their  larger  useless  rayi. 

Tis  Nature's  smallest  products  pleaae  the  tf. 
Whilst  greater  births  pass  unregai^ed  by ; 
Her  monsters  seem  a  violence  to  sight ; 
They  're  form'd  for  terroar,  insects  ,to  delight. 
Thus,  when  she  nicely  frames  a  piece  of  art. 
Fine  are  her  strokes,  and  small  in  every  pari  ; 
No  labour  can  she  boast  more  wonderfol 
Than  to  inform  an  atom  with  a  soul ; 
To  animate  her  little  beauteous  fly. 
And  doath  it  in  her  gaudiest  drapery* 

Thus  does  the  little  epigram  delist, 
Aad  charm  us  with  its  miniature  of  wit ; 
Whilst  tedious  authors  give  the  reader  paiuy 
Weary  his  thoughts,  and  make  him  toil  in  vain| 
When  in  less  volumes  we  more  pleasure  find. 
And  what  diverts,  still  best  informs  the  mmd. 

Tis  the  small  insect  looks  correct  and  fair. 
And  seems  the  product  of  her  nicest  care. 
When,  wcary'd  out  with  the  stupendous  weight 
Of  forming  prodigies  and  brutes  of  state. 
Then  she  the  insect  frames,  her  master-piece. 
Made  for  diversion,  and  design'd  to  please. 
Thus  Archimedes,  in  his  oystal  sphere, 
Seem'd  to  correct  the  world's  Artificer  : 
Whilst  the  large  globe  moves  round  with  long  delay. 
His  beauteous  orbs  in  nimbler  circles  play : 
This  seem'd  the  nobler  labour  of  the  two. 
Great  was  th^  sphere  above,  but  fine  below. 

Thus  smallest  things  have  a  peculiar  grace, 
The  great  w'  admire,  but  'tis  the  little  please ; 
Then,  since  the  least  so  beautifully  show, 
B*  advis'd  in  time,  my  Muae,  and  learn  to  know 
A  Poet's  lines  should  be  correct  and  few. 


TO  ais  paiKWO 
CAPTAIff  CHAMBERLAIN. 

VH  LOTS  WrrU  a  LAHY  RB  had  TAltSN  IN  AK  ALGK^ 
aiNB.PKIZB   AT   BIA. 

IN  ALLUSION  TO  HORACE;  B.  ii.  OD.  4. 

"Tis  no  disgrace,  brave  youth,  to  own 

By  a  fair  slaveyou  are  undone : 
Why  dost  thou  blush  to  hear  that  name^ 

And  stifle  thus  a  generous  flame  ? 
Did  not  the  feirBriaiis  beretolbce 

With  powerful  charmti  lubdoe  ? 
What  though  a  captive,  still  sha  bore 
Those  eyes  that  freedom  could  restore. 
And  make  her  haughty  lord  the  proofl  Achilles,  boW; 
Stem  Ajax.  though  renown'd  in  arms, 
Did  yield  to  bright  Tecmessa's  charms  i 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


TO  MR.  WATSON. 


69 


And  all  tlie  korelt  b«  b«d  won 
As  trophies  at  ber  leet  were  thrown. 

WbM,  baaiitifb]  in  tears,  be  viewM  the  moonuDgiairy 
The  hero  felt  her  power  t 
Tboogh  great  in  oamps  and  fierce  in  war. 
Her  sufter  looks  he  could  not  bear, 

TroudiobeoGaie  ber  slave,  though  late  ber  cooqnaror. 

When  beauty  in  distress  appears, 
An  irresistless  charm  it  .bears  : 
In  every  breast  does  pity  move. 
Pity,  the  tenderest  part  of  love. 
Imidst  his  triumphs  great  Atrides  sued,         ^ 
Unto  a  weeping  maid  : 
Though  Troy  was  by  bis  arms  subdued, 
And  Greece  the  bloody  trophies  yiew'd. 
Yet  at  a  captive's  feet  th*  imploring  victor  laid. 

Hunk  not  thy  charming  maid  can  be 
Of  a  bate  stock,  and  mean  degree ; 
Her  diape,  her  air,  her  every  grace, 
A  more  than  vulgar  birth  confess  : 

Yet,  jrea,  my  friend,  with  royal  blood  slie  's  great. 
Sprang  from  some  monarches  bed  ; 
Now  mourns  her  family's  hard  fkte,         ^ 
Her  mighty  fell  and  abject  state, 

And  her  illustrious  race  conceals  with  noble  pride, 

^,  thrak  not  an  ignoble  house 
Could  such  a  heroine  produce  ; 
Nor  think  snch  generous  ^ghtly  bkxid 
Covdd  flow  from  the  corrupted  crtywd  ; 
But  view  ber  courage,  her  undaunted  mind, 
And  soul  with  virtues  crown'd ; 
**"  Where  dazslhag  interest  cannot  blind, 

Var  youth  nor  gold  admittance  find,   [ground. 
'  But  still  her  honour's  fix'd,  and  virtue  kpeps  its 
View  wen  her  great  majestic  air. 
And  modest  looks  divinely  fehr ; 
Too  bright  fer  fency  to  improve. 
And  worthy  of  thy  noblest  love. 
Bot  yet  suspect  not  tby  officious  friend. 
All  jealous  thoughts  remove  ; 
Though  I  with  youths  heat  commend. 
For  thee  I  all  my  wishes  send. 
And  if  ahe  m^as  thea  Uest,  'tis  all  I  ask  of  Love  i 


TO  MR.    WATSON, 

cm  BIS  aniMiais   op  tvi  cblbstial   motions^ 

fajtssMTEo  TO  Hxa  MAJsmr. 

Arr,  when  in  fbll  perfbetion,  is  design'd 
To  please  the  eye,  or  to  inform  the  mind  : 
This  nobler  piece  performs  the  double  part. 
With  graceful  beauty  and  instructive  art. 
Since  the  great  Archhuedee*  sphere  was  lost. 
The  noblest  labour  fini^'d  it  coidd  boast ; 
Mo  genevon^  hand  durst  that  fam'd  model  trace, 
Which  Greece  admir'd,  and  Room  could  only  praisa* 
This  you,  with  greater  lustre,  have  restored. 
And  taught  those  arts  we  ignorantly  ador'd ; 
Motion  in  lull  perfection  here  you  've  sbuw«. 
And  what  mankiad  despaired  to  reach,  have  dona. 

In  artful  frames  your  heavenly  bodies  move, 
Scarce  brighter  in  their  beauteous  orbs  above  ; 
And  stars,  depriv'd  of  all  malignant  flames, 
hfctt  oomt  ih$  «yf  wit)i  oiore  wmpukm  beams  i 


In  gracefbl  order  the  just  phmets  rbe. 
And  here  complete  their  circles  in  the  skies ; 
Here  's  the  full  concert  of  revolving  spheres. 
And  Heaven  in  bright  epitome  appears. 

With  charms  the  ancients  did  invade  the  Moon, 
And  from  her  orb  compelled  her  struggling  down  j 
But  here  she's  taught  a  nobler  change  by  you, 
And  moves  with  pride  in  this  bright  sphere  below : 
While  your  celestial  bodies  thus  I  view. 
They  give  me  bright  ideas  of  the  true  ; 
Inspired  by  them,  my  thouglits  darp  upward  move. 
And  visit  regions  of  the  blest  above. 

Thttsfirom  your  hand  w'  admire  the  globe  ni  small, 
A  copy  feir  as  its  op^nal : 
This  labour  's  to  the  whole  creation  just. 
Second  to  none,  and  rival  to  the  first 
The  artful  q>ring,  like  the  diffusive  soul. 
Informs  the  machine,  and  directs  the  whole  : 
Like  Nature's  self,  it  fills  the  spacious  throne. 
And  unoonfin'd  sways  the  fair  orbs  alone ; 
Th'  unaotive  parts  with  awful  silence  wait. 
And  from  its  nod  their  birth  of  motion  date : 
Like  Chaos,  they  obey  the  powerfiil  call. 
Move  to  its  SQund,  and  into  measuresfbUf 


THE 

RAPE  OF  THEXJTILLA: 

IMITATID  PaOM  THE  LATIN  OF  PAMtAWUS  STBADA* 
THE    IMTaODUCTORT   AEGUMEVT. 

TheutUla,  a  fair  young  virgin,  who,  to  avoid  the 
addresses  of  those  many  admirers  her  beauty  drew 
about  her,  assi^med  the  habit  of  a  religious  order, 
and  wholly  withdrew  herself  from  the  eye  and 
converse  of  the  world  :  but  the  common  report  of 
her  fateauty  had  so  inflamed  Amalis  (a  young 
person  of  quality)  with  love,  that  one  night,  in  a 
debauch  of  wine,  he  commands  his  servants  to 
force  ber  dormitory,  and  bear  olf,  though  by  vio- 
lence, the  lovely  votaress ;  which  liaving  success* 
fully  performed,  they  bring  Theutilla  to  their 
eaqiecting  lord's  apartinent,  the  scene  of  the  en- 
suing poem, 

SooM  as  the  tjrrant  her  bright  form  surveyed. 
He  grew  inflamed  with  the  fair  captive  maid  : 
A  graceful  sorrow  in  her  looks  she  bears. 
Lovely  with  grief,  and  beautiful  in  tears  ; 
Her  mein  and  air  resistless  charms  impart. 
Forcing  an  easy  passage  to  his  heart : 
liong  hie  devours  her  beauties  with  his  eyes, 
While  through  his  glowing  veins  th'  infection  flies 't 
Swifter  than  lightning  to  his  breast  it  came,  - 
Like  that,  a  feir^  but  a  destructive  flame. 
Yet  she,  though  in  her  young  and  blooming  state, 
Possest  a  soul,  beyond  a  virgin's,  great ; 
No  charms  of  youth  her  colder  bosom  move. 
Chaste  were  her  thoughts,  and  most  averse  to  love ; 
And  as  some  timorous  hind  in  toils  betray 'd. 
Thus  in  his  arms  strove  the  resisting  maid  ; 
Thus  did  she  combat  with  his  strict  embrace. 
And  spura'd  the  guilty  cause  of  her  disgrace. 
Revenge  she  courted,  but  despaired  to  find 
A  strength  and  vigour  actual  to  ber  nind  ^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC  ' 


70 


YALDEN^  POEMS. 


While  checks  of  shame  her  willing  hands  testrain, 

Since  all  a  irirfrin^s  force  is  her  disdain : 

Yet  her  reaves  are  nobly  fix'd  to  die 

Rather  than  violate  her  chastity. 

Than  break  her  vows  to  Hearen,  than  blot  her  fiune, 

Or  soil  her  beauties  with  a  lustful  flame. 

The  night  from  its  meridian  did  decline. 
An  hoar  pn^itioiis  to  the  black  design : 
When  sleep  and  rest  their  peaceful  laws  maintain. 
And  o'er  the  globe  b'  infectious  silence  reign ; 
While  death-like  slumbert  eveiy  bosom  seize. 
Unbend  our  minds,  and  weary'd  bodies  ease : 
Now  fbndvAmaUs  finds  his  drooping  breast 
Heary  with  wine,  with  amorous  cares  opprest ; 
Not  all  the  joys  e9q[>ecting  lovers  feel 
Can  from  his  breast  the  drowsy  charm  repel ; 
In  vain  from  Wme  his  passion  seeks  redress, 
Whose  treacherous  flfrce  the  flame  it  raised  betrays : 
Weak  and  unnerv>d  his  useless  limbs  became. 
Bending  beneath  their  ill-eupported  frame ; 
Vanquished  by  that  repoae  from  which  he  flies. 
Now  slumbers  close  his  unconsenting  eyes. 
But  sad  ThentiUa's  cares  admit  no  rest. 
Repose  is  banished  from  her  mournful  breast ; 
A  faithful  giMdPd  does  ii^r'd  virtue  keep. 
And  from  her  weary  linibs  repulses  sleqp. 
Ofl  she  reflects  with  borrour  on  the  rape. 
Oft  tries  each  avenue  fbr  her  escape ; 
Though  still  repulse  upon  repulse  she  beats 
And  finds  no  passage  but  Ibr  ligfas  and  teers : 
Then,  with  the  wimess  of  her  soul  let  loose. 
And  all  the  fmy  that  her  wrongs  infuse ; 
She  weeps»  she  raves,  she  rends  her  flofv^ag  hahr, 
Wild  m  her  grief,  and  raghng  with  despair. 
At  length  her  restless  thoughts  an  utterance  find, 
And  vent  the  anguish  of  her  labouring  mind : 
*  Whilst  all  dissolv'd  in  calmer  teais  she  said, 
*'  Shall  I  again  be  to  his  arms  betra3r'd  ! 
Again  the  toil  of  loathed  embraces  bear, 
And  for  some  blacker  scene  of  lust  prepare  ?' 
First  may  his  bed  my  guiltless  grave  become. 
His  marble  roof  my  unpolluted  tomb  ; 
Then,  just  to  honour,  and  unstain'd  in  fione^ 
The  um  that  hides  my  dust  conceals  my  shame. 
Heaven  gave  me  virtue,  woman's  frail  defence. 
And  beauty  to  molest  that  innocence : 
In  vain  I  call  my  viirtue  to  my  aid. 
When  thus  by  treacherous  beauty  Pm  betray>d. 
Yet  to  this  hour  my  breast  no  crime  has  known. 
But,  coldly  chaste,  with  virgin  brightness  shone. 
As  now  usully'd  by  a  winter's  sun. 
Not  arte,  nor  ruder  force  of  men  prevaQ'd, 
My  tears  found  pity,  when  my  language  fail'd. 
Ofl  have  these  violated  locks  been  torn. 
And  nijur*d  face  their  savage  fury  home  j 
Oft  have  my  bloody  robes  their  crimes  confest, 
And  pointed  daggers  glittered  at  my  j>reast ; 
Y^t  free  from  guilt,  I  found  some  happier  charm 
I'o  vanquish  lust,  and  wildest  rage  disarm. 
But  ah  !  the  greatest  labour 's  yet  behind ; 
No  tears  can  soften  this  obdurate  mmd ; 
No  prayers  hiexorable  pity  move. 
Or  guaid  me  from  the  worst  of  ruins.  Love  : 
Though  sleep  and  wine  allow  this  k'md  reprieve. 
Yet  to  the  youth  they  »11  strength  and  fury  give  ; 
Th^  wretched  maid  !  Aen  think  what  artifice, 
What  charm,  shall  rescue  from  his  nerv'd  embrace  i 
When  with  supplies  of  vigour  next  he  storms, 
And  e\-eiy  dictate  of  his  lost  performs. 


"  But  yon,  blest  Power,  that  onli  a  ^ripttHi  iiame^ 
Protect  my  virtue,  and  defend  my  fame. 
From  powerful  lurt,  and  the  reproach  of  shame  ; 
If  1  a  ^ict  religious  lifo  have  led. 
Drunk  the  cold  stream,  and  made  the  earth  my  bed ! 
If  from  the  world  a  chaste  recluse  1  live. 
Redress  my  wrongs,  and  generous  succour  give } 
Allay  this  raging  tempest  of  my  mind, 
A  virgin  should  be  to  a  virgm  kind : 
Prostrate  with  tears  from  yon  I  beg  defence. 
Or  take  my  life,  or  guard  ray  innocence." 

While  thus  the  afflicted  beiuty  pray'd,  she  ^y'd 
A  fatal  dagger  by  Amalis'  side : 
"  This  weapon's  mine !"  she  cries,  (tiien  grasp'd  it 

fast) 
And  now  the  lustful  tyrant  sleeps  his  last"        ' 
With  eager  hand  the  pointed  steel  she  draws, 
Ev'n  miuder  pleases  in  so  just  a  cause  ; 
Nor  foars,  nor  dangen,  now  resistance  make. 
Since  honour,  life,  and  dearer  fame,  's  at  stake. 

Yet  m  her  breast  does  kind  compassion  plead. 
And  fills  her  soul  with  borrour  of  the  deed ; 
Her  sex's  tenderness  resumes  its  place,  , 
And  ^reads  in  conscioas  blushes  o'er  her  foce. 
Now  stung  with  the  remorse  of  guilt,  she  cries, 
**  Ah,  frantic  girl,  what  wild  attempt  is  this  ! 
Think,  thinks  Theutilla,  on  the  murderer's  doom^ 
And  tremble  at  a  punishment  to  oooie :  • 
Stain  not  thy  virgin  hands  with  gvuhy  blood. 
And  dread  to  be  so  crimhuilly  good. 
Lay  both  thy  courage  and  thy  weapon  down. 
Nor  fly  to  auia  a  inaid  must  blush  to  own ; 
Nor  arms,  nor  valour,  with  thy  sex  agree. 
They  wound  thy  fome,  and  taint  thy  modesty^ 
Thus  diflerent  fMssioos  combat  in  her  mind. 
Oft  she  's  to  pity,  ofl  to  rage  inclin'd  : 
Now  from  her  haiid  the  hated  weapon 's  cast. 
Then  seiz'd  again  with  more  impetuous  haste: 
Unflx'd  her  wishes,  her  resolves  are  vain. 
What  she  attempts,  she  straight  rejects  again  ; 
Her  looks,  the  emblems  of  her  thoughts,  appear 
Vary'd  with  rage,  with  pity,  and  d^pair : 
Alone  her  fears  incline  to  no  extreme. 
Equally  poiz'd  betwixt  revenge  and  shame. 
At  length,  with  more  prevailing  rage  possest. 
Her  jealous  honour  steels  her  daring  breast : 
The  thoughts  of  injur'd  fame  new  courage  gave. 
And  nicer  virtue  now  confirms  her  brave. 
Then  the  fam'd  Judith  her  whole  mind  emplojrs. 
Urges  her  hand,  and  sooths  the  fotal  choice : 
This  great  example  pleas'd,  inflamVl  by  this. 
With  wild  disorder  to  the  youth  she  flies ; 
One  hand  she  wreaths  within  his  flowing  hair. 
The  other  does  the  ready  weapon  bear  : 
"  Now  guide  me  (cries)  fair  Hebrew,  now  look  down. 
And  pity  labours  thou  hast  undergone. 
Direct  the  hand  that  takes  thy  path  to  fome. 
And  be  propitious  to  a  vnpn's  name, 
Wliose  glory 's  but  a  refuge  from  her  shame  !" 
Thus  rais'd  by  hopes,  and  arm'd  with  courage  now. 
She  with  undaunted  looks  directs  the  blow  : 
JDeep  in  his  breast  the  spacious  wound  she  made. 
And  to  his  heart  dispatch'd  th'  unerring  blade. 

^lien  their  expiring  ford  the  servanto  heard. 
Whose  dying  groans  the  fiOal  act  declaHd, 
like  a  fierce  torrent,  with  no  bounds  they  're  stay 'd. 
But  vent  their  rage  on  the  defenceless  maid  : 
Not  virtue,  jrouth,  nor  beauty  in  distress. 
Can  move  their  savage  breastt  to  tendemefs; 


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ODE  FOR  ST.  CECTUA'S  DAY. 


71 


But  death  with  hornd  torments  they  prepare. 
And  to  her  late  tk*  undaunted  virgin  bear. 
Tortores  and  death  seem  lovely  in  her  eyes. 
Since  she  to  hoooor  &lls  a  sacrifice : 
Amidst  her  snflhrings,  still  her  mind  is  great^ 
And  Iree  firom  guilt,  she  triomphs  o'er  her  fiite. 

But  Heaven,  that 's  snffering  virtue^  sure  reward, 
tefts  its  power,  and  is  itself  her  guard : 
Amalis,  coneeioua  of  his  black  oflence, 
Kow  feels  remorse  for  her  wrong'd  mnocence ; 
Hmxii^  now  be  's  stmggUng  in  the  pangs  of  death. 
And  all  lifs^e  porple  stream  is  ebbing  forth. 
Yet,  raising  op  his  pale  and  drooping  head. 
He  leooUecta  bis  qwits  as  they  fled, 
And,  with  hie  lattreauuns  of  voice,  he  said,    [strain, 
**  Spare  the  cfaasle  maid,  voor  impious  hands  re- 
Nor  beaoty  with  snch  nisotcace  prophane : 
Learn  by  my  Cite  wrong*d  nmooence  to  spare, 
Snce  iigor'd  vhrto^  's  Heaven's  peculiar  care." 

But  yoQ,  brave  virgin,  now  shall  stand  enroli'd 
Amoagtt  the  noblest  heroines  of  old : 
Thy  fiun'd  attempt,  and  edebratad  hand. 
Shall  lasting  trophies  of  thy  glory  stand : 
And,  if  my  vem  the  just  reward  can  give, 
Tbeotilla*s  name  shall  to  new  ages  live. 
For  to  thy  sex  thou  hast  new  honoors  won. 
And  France  now  boasts  a  Judith  of  its  own. 


jiN  ODE  FOR  ST.  CECIUA^S  DAY. 

1693, 

BsGiv,  and  strike  th'  harmonious  lyre  ! 
Let  the  loud  instraments  prepare 
To  raise  our  souls,  and  charm  Abe  ear. 

With  joys  which  Music  only  can  inspire  : 
Hark  bow  the  willing  strings  obey ! 
To  consecrate  this  happy  day, 

fiacred  to  Music,  Love,  and  blest  Cecilia. 
In  lofty  nuipbers,  tuneful  lays. 

We  11  cel^rate  the  virgin's  praise  : 

Her  skilful  hand  first  Uught  our  strings  to  move, 
To  her  tbis  sacred  art  we  owe. 
Who  first  anticipated  Heaven  below,     [above. 

And  piay'd  the  hymns  on  Karth,  that  she  now  sings 

What  moving  charms  eachtoneful  voice  contains. 
Charms  that  through  the  willing  ear 
A  tide  of  pleasing  raptares  l^ear,  [veins, 

And  with  diffusive  joys,  run  thrilling  thrott|^  our 
The  listening  soul  does  sympathize. 
And  with  each  vary 'd  note  compli^ : 
While  gsty  and  sprightly  airs  delight. 
Then,  free  finom  cares,  and  uncoofin'd, 

I^  takes,  in  pleasing  ecstasies,  its  flight 

With  mournful  sounds,  a  sadder  garb  it  wears. 
Indulges  grief,  and  gives  a  loose  to  tears. 

Hone  *s  the  language  of  the  blest  above. 
No  voice  but  Music*s€an  express 
The  joyt  that  happy  souls  posses, 

Kor  in  just  raptures  tell  the  wond'rous  power  of  loveu 
Tis  Nature's  dialect,  designed 
Tocharm,  and  to  instruct  the  mind. 

Music's  an  universal  good  I 
Hiat  does  dispenae  iu  joys  around. 
In  all  the  elegance  of  sound, 
Xi  Wby  men  ndmir*d^  by  angebnnderstoo^ 


Let  every  restless  passion  cease  to  move  ! 
And  each  tumultuous  thought  obey 
The  happy  influence  of  this  day. 
For  Music's  unity  and  love. 
Music  's  the  soft  mdulger  of  the  mind. 

The  kind  diverter  of  our  care, 
The  surest  refuge  mournful  gcief  can  find  ^ 
A  cordial  to  the  breast,  and  charm  to  every  ear. 
Thus,  when  the  prophet  struck  his  tuneful  Ijrre, 
Saul's  evil  genius  did  retire : 
In  vain  were  remedies  apply'd. 
In  vain  all  other  arts  were  try'd  : 
His  hand  and  voice  alone  the  charm  oonld  And, 
To  heal  his  body,  and  compose  his  mind. 

Kow  let  the  trumpet's  louder  voice  proclaim 

A  solemn  jubilee  : 
For  ever  sacred  let  it  be, 
To  skilful  Jubal's,  and  Cecilia's  name. 

Great  Jnbal,  author  of  our  lays, 
Who  first  the  hidden  charms  of  Music  found  ; 

And  through  their  airy  paths  did  trace 

The  secret  springs  of  sound. 

When  from  his  hollow  cborded  shell 

The  soft  melodious  accents  fbU, 

With  wonder  and  delight  he  play'd. 
While  tiie  harmonious  strings  his  skilful  hand  obey'dir 
But  foir  Cecilia  to  a  pitch  divine 

Improv'd  her  artful  lajrs  : 
When  to  the  organ  she  her  voice  did  join, . 

In  the  Almighty's  praise ; 
Then  choirs  of  lirtening  angels  stood  around, 
Admir'd  her  art,  and  blest  the  heavenly  sound* 

Her  praise  alone  no  tongue  can  nuwh, 

But  in  the  strains  herself  dkl  teach : 

Then  let  the  voice  and  lyre  combine. 

And  in  a  tuneful  concert  join ; 

For  Music 's  her  reward  and  care. 
Above  sh'  enjoys  it,  and  protects  it  befe, 

CtANO  CROftUf, 

Then  kindly  treat  this  happy  day. 
And  grateful  honours  to  Oecilia  pay  : 
To  her  these  lov'd  harmonious  rites  belong, 
To  her  that  tunes  our  strings,  and  still  inspires  our 

song. 


THE  FORCE  OF  JEAf/)im. 

TO  A  LADT  ASKINO  IV  Hit  SIX  WAS  AS  SXKSULB 
OP  THAT  fASSlOH  AS  MAM. 

AN  ALLUSION  TO 
O !  quam  cruentus  foeminas  stimulat  dolor  t 
SsMSCA,  HercuUt  OtUtut^ 

What  raging  thoughts  transport   the    woman's 
That  is  with  kve  and  jealousy  possest !       [breaat. 
More  with  revenge,  than  soft  desires  she  burns. 
Whose  slighted  passion  meets  no  kind  returns; 
That  courts  the  youA  with  long-neglected  duuniy 
And  folds  her  rival  happy  in  his  arms  ! 

Dread  Scylla's  rocks  tis  safier  to  engage, 
And  trust  a  storm,  than  her  destructive  rage  : 
Not  waves,  contending  with  a  boisterous  whid» 
Threaten  so  loud,  as  her  tempestuous  mind  : 
For  seas  grow  calm,  and  raging  storms  abate| 
But  most  inqpUcable'i  a  woman's  bate : 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


72 


YALDEWS  POEMS. 


Tigers  and  savages  less  wUd  appear, 

Than  that  fond  wretch  abandoned  to  despair. 

Such  were  the  transports  Dejanira  felt. 
Stung  with  a  rival's  charms,  and  husband^s  guilt : 
With  su(^h  despair  she  view'd  the  captive  mud, 
Whose  fatal  love  her  Hercules  betrayM  5 
Th'  unchaste  Idle,  but  divinely  fair  ! 
In  love  triumphant,  though  a  slave  in  war ;   . 
By  nature  lewd,  and  formed  for  soft  delight. 
Gay  as  the  spring,  and  fair  as  beams  of  light ; 
Whose  blooming  youth  would  wildest  rage  disarm. 
And  every  eye,  but  a  fierce  rival's,  charm. 

Foc'd  with  her  grief  the  royal  matron  stood. 
When  the  fair  captive  in  his  arms  she  view'd : 
With  what  regret  her  beauties  »he  surveyed,         ^ 
And  curst  the  power  of  the  too  lovely  maid. 
That  r^'d  the  joys  of  her  abandon'd  bed  ! 
Her  furious  looks  with  wild  disorder  glow, 
Looks  that  her  envy  and  resentment  show  ! 
To  blast  that  &ir  detested  form  she  tries. 
And  lightning  darts  from  her  distoi-ted  ^yes. 

Then  o'er  the  palace  of  false  Hercules, 
With  clamour  and  imjpetuous  rage  she  flies ; 
Late  a  dear  witness  of  their  mutual  flame. 
But  now  th'  unhappy  object  of  her  shame ; 
Whose  conscious  roof  can  yield  her  no  relief, 
But  with  polluted  joys  upbraids  her  grief. 

Nor  can  the  spacious  court  contahi  her  now ; 
It  grows  a  scene  too  narrow  for  her  woe. 
loose  and  undrest  all  day  she  strays  alone. 
Does  her  abode  and  lov'd  companions  shun. 
In  woods  complains,  and  sighs  in  every  grove. 
The  mournful  tale  of  her  fi^saken  love. 
Her  thoughts  to  all  th*  extremes  of  frenzy  fly, 
Vaiy,  but  cannot  ease  her  misery  : 
Whilst  in  her  IgCks  the  lively  forms  appear. 
Of  envy,  fondness,  fiiry,  and  despair. 

Her  rage  no  constant  face  of  sorrow  wears. 
Oft  scon^l  smiles  succeed  loud  sighs  and  tears; 
Oft  o'er  her  face  the  rising  blushes  spread, 
Her  glowiog  eyeball?  turn  witii  fury  red  : 
Then  pale  and  wan  her  altered  looks  appear. 
Paler  than  Guilt,  and  drooping  with  d^pair. 
A  tide  of  passions  ^>b  and  flow  within, 
And  oft  she  shifU  the  melancholy  scene : 
Does  all  th'  excess  of  woman's  finry  show. 
And  yields  a  large  variety  of  woe. 

Now,  calm  as  infants  at  the  mother's  breast,. 
Her  grief  in  softest  murmurs  is  exprest : 
She  speaks  the  tenderest  things  that  pity  move. 
Kind  are  her  looks,  and  languishing  with  love. 
Then,  loud  as  storms,  and  raging  as  the  wind. 
She  gives  a  loose  to  her  disiemper'd  mind : 
Wi^  shridtt  and  groans  she  fills  the  air  around, 
And  makes  the  palace  her  loud  griefs  resound. 

Wild  with  her  wrongs,  she  like  a  fury  strays, 
A  fury,  more  than  wife  of  Hercules  : 
Her  motion,  looks,  and  voice,  proclaim  her  woes  ; 
While  nghs,  and  broken  words,  her  wilder  thoughts 


TO  mS  PERJURED  MISTRESS, 

Kox  erat.  It  oodo  iulgdwt  Lima  sereno,  Uc 

It  was  one  eveniog,  when  the  rising  Moon 
Amidst  W  tram  of  stan  distinctly  shone  ; 


Serene  and  eafan  was  the  invitfaif  night. 
And  Heaven  sppear'd  in  all  its  lustre  bri^  ; 
When  you,  Nesera,  you,  my  peijur'd  fair. 
Did,  to  abuse  the  gods  sind  me,  prepare. ' 
Twas  then  you  swore— *re«Mmi)er,  fcithlc«  masd. 
With  what  endearing  arts  you  then  betmy'd : 
Remember  all  the  tender  things  that  past, . 
When  round  my  neck^your  willing  an 
The  circling  ivys,  when  the  oaks  tfaey  join. 
Seem  loose,  and  coy,  to  those  fond  armsof  thma. 

.  •*  Believe,"  you  cry'd,  *'  this  solenm  ^ 
The  uoblest  pledge  that  Love  und  I  can  give ; 
Or,  if  there 's  ought  o(iore  sacred  here  bdov. 
Let  that  confirm  my  oath  to  Heaven  and  yoiL, 
If  e'er  my  breast  a  guilty  flame  receives. 
Or  covets  jo3rs  but  what  thy  presence  gives  ; 
May  every  injnr*d  power  assert  thy  cause. 
And  Love  avenge  his  vkdated  laws  : 
While  croel  beasts  of  prey  infest  the  plain. 
And  tempests  rage  upon  the  foithless  main ; 
While  sighs  and  tears  shall  listemng  virgins  oiovtt  | 
So  long,  ye  powers,  will  fond  Neasra  tove." 

Ah,  faithless  charmer,  lovely  peijur'd  maid  I 
Are  thus  my  vows  and  generous  flam^  repaid  } 
Repeated  slights  \  have  too  tamely  bore, 
Still  doated  on,  and  sdll  been  wrong'd  the  mose. 
Why  do  I  listen  to  that  Syren's  voice. 
Love  ev'n  thy  crimes,  and  fly  to  guilty  joys  ? 
Thy  fatal  eyes  my  best  resolves  betray. 
My  fury  melts  in  soft  desires  away  : 
Each  look,^ach  glance,  for  all  tfiy  crimes  aUxM* 
Elude  my  rage,  and  I'm  again  undone. 

But  if  my  injur'd  soul  dares  yet  be  brave. 
Unless  I'  m  fond  of  shame,  confirm'd  a  slave, 
I  will  be  deaf  to  that  enchanting  tongue. 
Nor  on  thy  beauties  gaze  away  my  wrong. 
At  length  I  '11  loath  each  prostituted  grace. 
Nor  court  the  leavings  of  a  cloy'd  embrace  j 
But  show,  with  manJy  rage,  my  soul 's  above 
The  coW  returns  of  thy  exhausted  love. 
Tlien  thou  sba  It  justly  RKMirn  at  my  disdain, 
Fmd  all  thy  arts  and  all  thy  charms  in  vain  : 
Shalt  mourn,  whilst  I,  with  nobler  flames,  purso^ 
Some  nymph  as  fair,  though  not  unjust,  as  yoju  ^ 
Whose  wit  and  beauty  shall  like  thine  excel. 
But  fiir  surpass  in  truth,  and  loving  welL 

But  wretched  thou,  whoe'er  my  rival  art. 
That  fondly  boasts  an  empire  o'er  her  heart  j 
Thou  that  enjoy'st  the  feir  mconstant  prize. 
And  vainly  triumph'st  with  my  victories  | 
Unenvy'd  now,  o'er  all  her  beauties  rove. 
Enjoy  thy  ruin,  and  Neera's  love  : 
Though  wealth  and  honours  grace  thy  nobler  biith. 
To  bribe  her  love,  and  fix  a  wandering  fiiith  ; 
Though  every  grace  and  every  virtue  join, 
T*  enrich  t)iy  mind,  and  make  thy  form  divine  : 
Yet,  blest  with  endless  charms,  too  soon  yoa'Unn^ 
The  treacheries  of  false  Neasra's  love. 
Lost  and  abandon'd  by  th*  ungrateful  fhir. 
Like  me  you  'II  love,  be  injured  and  despair. 
When  left  th'  unhappy  object  of  her  scorn. 
Then  shall  I  smile  to  see  the  victor  moniii, 
Langfa  at  thy  fate,  and  trimnph  iii  my  tor»; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


IMITATION. . .  •  PATROCLUSS  REQUEST, 


73 


mrr^TioN  of  horace, 

900k   I.      ODB  XXII, 

Integer  Tits,  &c  ^ 

Tu  man  tlwt'*t  vneomipt;  and  free  fram  guilt. 
That  the  temorse  of  secret  crimes  iie*er  felt : 
Whose  breast  was  ne'er  debauch^  with  an. 

But  finds  all  calm,  and  all  at  peace  within : 
In  his  integrity  secure. 
He  fears  no  danger,  oreads  no  power : 
XJsdeas  are  arms  for  his  defence, 

That  keq»  a  feithfui  gnard  of  hmocenoe, 

Secure  the  happy  iipiocent  may  rove. 

The  care  of  every  power  above; 

Although  unarm'd  he  wanders  Q*er 
The  treacherous  Libya's  sands,  and  feithlen  shore: 

Though  o'er  the  inhospitable  brows 

Of  savage  Caucasus  be  goes  ; 

Through  Alrick's  flames,  Diro'  Scj^thia's  snows. 
Or  vhere  Hydai^Ms,  fisim^d  for  monsters,  4ows, 

^  as,  within  an  unfrequented  grove, 
I  tnnM  my  willing  lyre  to  love, 
With  pleasing  amorous  thoughts  betray^ 

Beyond  my  bounds  insensible  I  stray'd  i 
A  wolf  that  view'd  me  fled  away. 
He  fled  from  his  defenceless  prey  I 
When  I  invoked  Maria's  aid, 

ikhoogh  tmann'd,  the  trembling  monster  fled, 

Kot  Damua^  teeming  sands,  nor  barbarous  shore, 

Per  such  a  dreadful  native  bore. 

Nor  Afric's  nursing  caves  brought  fertli 

00  fleroe  a  beast,  of  such  amazing  growth  ; 
Yet  vain  did  ail  his  fury  prove 
Agahist  a  breast  that 's  arm'd  wSth  love  ; 

1%on^  absent,  feir  Maria's  name 

Sobdoesthe  fierce,  and  makes  the  savage  tame, 

Coamiit  me  now  to  that  abandon'd  place 
Where  chearfiil  light  withdraws  its  rays ; 
Vo  beams  on  barren  Nature  smile, 

Kor  fruitful  winds  refresh  th'  intemperate  soil ; 
But  tempests,  with  eternal  frtirts, 
Still  rage  around  the  gloomy  coast : 
Whilst  angry  Jove  infests  the  air, 

iod,  black  wi^  clouds,  deforms  the  sullen  year. 

Or  pboe  me  now  ben^th  the  torrid  zone, 
Tb  live  a  borderer  on  the  Sun  : 
Send  me  to  scorchhig  sands,  whose  heat 

Ooarfs  the  destructive  soil  from  human  feet: 
Yet  there  I  '11  sing  Maria's  name. 
And  sport,  uninjur'd,  'midst  the  flame : 

Maria's  name  !  that  will  create,  ev*n  there, 

A  mildfr  diniate,  and  more  temp^sate  air. 


,  PAT&OCLVS*S  RESVEST  TO  ACHILLES 
FOR  HIS  ARMS. 

WlTATin  flOM  TBI  BlOnfNIKO  Or  TBI   SIXTBSNTH 
ILIAD  or  UQMSI. 

PmKB  Achilles,  with  compassion  mov'd, 
"nuM  to  Patrodus  spake,  his  best-btlov'd. 


**  Why  like  a  tender  giri  dust  thou  complain  ! 
That  strives  to  reach  the  mother's  breast  in  vain  ; 
Mourns  by  her  side,  her  knees  embraces  fast. 
Hangs  on  her  robes,  and  interrupts  her  baste  ; 
Yet,  when  with  fondness  to  her  arms  she 's  rais'd. 
Still  mourns  and  weeps,  and  will  not  be  appeas'd  I 
Thus  my  Patroclus  in  his  grief  appears, 
Thus  like  a  froward  giri  profuse  of  tears, 

"  Fromr  Phthia  dost  thou  moumful  tidings  hear, 
And  to  thy  friend  some  fatal  message  bear  ? 
Thy  valiant  father  (if  we  Fame  believe) 
The  good  Menaetius,  he  is  yet  alire  ; 
And  Peleus,  though  in  his  declining  days, 
Reigns  o^er  his  Myrmidons  in  health  and  pe^ot  c 
Yet,  as  their  latest  obsequies  we  paid. 
Thou  moum'st  them  living,  as  already  dead. 

"  Or  thus  with  tears  the  Grecian  host  deplpie. 
That  with  their  navy  perish  on  the  shore  ; 
And  with  compassion  their  misfortunes. view. 
The  just  reward  to  guilt  and  felsehood  due  ? 
Impartial  Heaven  avenges  thus  my  wrongs 
Nor  suffers  crimes  to  go  unpunished  long. 
R«veal  the  cause  so  much  a^cts  thy  mind. 
Nor  thus  conceal  thy  sorrows  from  thy  friend.** 
When,  gently  rais'mg  up  his  drooping  head. 
Thus,  with  a  sigh,  the  sad  Patroclus  said, 
"  Godlike  Achilles,  Pel&us'  valiant  son ! 
Of  all  our  chiefe,  the  greatest  in  renown;. 
Upbraid  not  thus  th'  afilict^d  with  their  woesi 
Nor  triumph  now  the  Greeks  susUin  such  loss  I 
To  pity  let  thy  generous  breast  incline; 
And  show  thy  mind  is  like  thy  birth  divine. 
For  all  the  valiant  leaders  of  their  host. 
Or  wounded  lie,  or  are  in  battle  lost 
Ulysses  great  m  arms,  and  Diomede, 
Languish  with  wounds,  and  in  the  navy  bleed  : 
This  common  (ate  great  Agamemnon  shares. 
And  stern  Eurypylus,  renown'd  in  wars. 
Whilst  powerful  drugs  th'  experienc'd  artists  try. 
And  to  their  wounds  apt  remedies  apply. 
Easing  th'  afflicted  heroes  with  their  skili; 
Thy  breast  alone  remains  implacable! 

"  What,  will  thy  fury  thus  for  ever  last ! 
Let  present  woes  atone  for  injuries  past : 
How  can  thy  soul  retain  such  lasting  hate  ! 
Thy  virtues  are  as  useless  as  they  're  great 
What  injur'd  friend  from  thee  shall  hope  redren. 
That  will  not  aid  the  Greeks  in  such  distress  ? 
Useless  is  all  the  valour  that  you  boast, 
Deform'd  with  rage,  with  sullen  fury  lost 
,  "  Could  cruelty  Uke  thine  from  Peleus  come. 
Or  be  the  ofbpring  of  fair  Thetis'  womb  !       [forth. 
Thee  raging  seas,   thee  boisterous  waves  brought 
And  to  obdurate  rocks  thou  ow'st  thy  birth  ! 
Thy  stubborn  nature  still  retains  their  kind. 
So  hard  thy  heart,  so  savage  is  thy  mind. 

"  But,  if  thy  boding  breast  admits  of  fear. 
Or  dreads  what  sacred  oracles  declare  ! 
What  awful  Thetb  in  the  courts  above 
Received  from  the  unerring  mouth  of  Jove  I 
If  so — let  me  the  threatening  dangers  fjBu;e, 
And  head  the  warlike  squadrons  in  thy  place  : 
Whilst  me  thy  valiant  Myrmidons  obey. 
We  yet  may  turn  the  fortune  of  the  day. 
Let  me  in  thy  distinguish'd  arras  appear. 
With  all  thy  dreadful  equipage  of  war  ; 
That  when  the  Trojans  our  approaches  view 
Deceiv'd,  they  shall  retreat,  and  think  »tis  you. 

**  Thus,  from  the  rage  of  an  insulting  host, 
We  may  retrieve  tl^t  fame  the  Greaks  have  kMt* 


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74 


YALDEN'S  POEMS. 


Vtgorous  and  freth»  th*  imaqiial  6ght  reiMV, 
And  fipom  our  navy  force  the  drooping  foe ; 
•O'er  baraasM  men  an  easy  conquest  gain, 
iLnd  dr\ve  the  Thuaqs  to  their  walls  again,*' 


OH  TBI  KB-PBINTIKO 

yiLTOS*S  PROSE  WORKS 
wrrn  his  poems, 

WRITTEM  IN  HIS  PARADISB  LOST, 

These  sacred  lines  with  wonder  we  peruse 
And  praise  the  flights  pf  a  seraphic  Muse, 
Till  thy  seditious  prose  provd'.*^  our  rage, 
And  soils  the  heauties  of  thy  brightest  page. 
Til  us  here  we  see  transporting  scenes  arise, 
Heaven's  radiant  host,  and  opening  Paradise; 
Then  trembling  view  the  dread  abyss  beneath, 
Hell's  horrid  mansions,  and  the  rodms  of  Death. 

Whilst  here  thy  bold  majestic  numbers  rise, 
And  range  th»  embattled  legions  of  the  skies, 
With  armtfes  fill  the  azure  plahis  of  light. 
And  paint  the  lively  terrours  of  the  fight> 
We  own  the  poet  worthy  to  rehearse 
HeavenV  lasting  triumphs  in  immortal  verse  : 
But  when  thy  impious  mercenary  pen 
Insults  the  best  of  princes,  best  of  men, 
Our  admiration  turns  to  just  disdain. 
And  we  revoke  the  fond  applause  again. 

Like  the  felVn  angels  in  their  happy  state. 
Thou  shar'dst  their  nature,  insolence,  and  fate  : 
To  harps  divine,  immortal  hynms  ^ey  sung. 
As  sweet  thy  Toice,  as  sweet  thy  lyre  was  strung. 
As  they  did  rebels  to  th*  Almighty  grow. 
So  thou  prophan'st  his  image  here  below. 
Apostate  band !  may  not  thy  guilty  ghost, 
Discover  to  its  own  eternal  cost. 
That  as  they  Heaven,  thou  Paradife  hast  lost ! 


SIR  HUMPHRY  MACKWORTH: 

OM  THE  MIXES,  LATE  OF  SIB  CABBEBT  nilCB. 

What  spacious  veins  enrich  the  British  soil; 
The  various  ores,  and  skilful  miner's  toil ; 
How  ripening,  metals  lie  conceaPd  in  Earth, 
And  teeming  Natiire  forms  the  wondrous  birth  ; 
My  useful  verse,  the  first,  transmits  to  fame. 
In  numbers  tun'd,  and  no  nnhallow'd  flame. 

O  generous  Mackworth  !  could  the  Muse  inipart 
A  labour  worthy  thy  auspicious  art ; 
Like  thee  succeed  in  paths  untrod  before. 
And  secret  treasures  of  the  land  explore. 
Apolb's  self  should  on  the  labour  smile. 
And  Oelphos  quit  for  Britain's  fruitful  isle. 

Wliere  fair  Sabrina  flows  around  the  coast. 
And  aged  Dovey  in  the  ocean  's  lost. 
Her  lofty  hrows  unconquei^'d  Britain  reait. 
And  fencM  with  rocks  impregnable  appears  : 
Which  like  the  well-fix'd  bars  of  Nature  show. 
To  guard  the  treasures  she  conceals  below. 
For  Earth,  distorted  with  her  pregnant  womb. 
Heaves  up  to  give  the  forming  embryo  room  : 


Hence  vast  escresceoees  of  hiln  arise. 
And  mountahis  swell  to  a  portentous  size: 
Louring  and  black  the  rugged  coast  appears. 
The  sullen  Earth  a  gkxmiy  sorfiux  trears ; 
Yet  all  beneath,  deep  at  the  centie,  shtnes 
With  native  wealth,  and  more  than  India's  mineSf 
Thus  erring  Nature  her  defecti  aoppliet, 
Indulgent  oift  to  what  bar  som  despbe  : 
Oft  in  a  rude,  vnfinidiM  form,  we  find 
The  nobleit  treasure  of  a  generous  mind. 

Thrice  happy  land  !  from  whoae  indnlgeat  womb. 
Such  un»hausted  stores  of  richea  come  ! 
By  Heaven  belov'd !  fbrm'd  by  ampicions  Fate, 
To 'be  aboye  thy  neigfabouring  nalioos  great ! 
Its  golden  sands  no  more  shall  Tagus  boast. 
In  Dovey's  flood  his  rival'd  empire 's  lost ; 
Whose  waters  now  a  nobler  fund  niaintajii. 
To  humUf  France,  and  check  the  pride  of  Spsiar 
Like  Eg3rpt*8  Nile  the  bounteous  current  shows. 
Dispersing  blessings  wheresoever  it  flows  ^ 
WIkmc  native  treasure 's  able  to  repair 
The  long  expenses  of  our  Gallic  war. 

The  ancient  Britons  are  a  hardy  race, 
Averse  to  luxury  and  slothful  ease  ; 
Their  necks  beneath  a  foreign  yoke  ne'er  bow*d. 
In  w^  unoonquer^d,  and  of  freedom  proud ; 
With  minds  resolv'd  they  lasting  toils  endure, 
Unmhc'd  their  language,  and  their  manners  parek 
Wisely  does  Nature  such  an  ofliipring  chuse. 
Brave  to  ddeod  her  wealth,  and  slow  to  use; 
Mliere  thhst  of  enipire  ne'er  UDflames  their  veins. 
Nor  avarice,  nor  wild  ambition  reigns  : 
But  low  in  mines,  they  oonstant  toils  reotw. 
And  through  the  Earth  their  branehing  vems  poTiiM. 
As  when  some  nvy  on  th'  Iberian  coast, 
Chas'd  by  the  winds,  is  in  the  ocean  lost ; 
To  Neptune's  realms  a  new  supply  it  brings. 
The  strength  designed  of  Emt)pean  kings  : 
Contending  divers  would  the  wreck  regm. 
And  make  reprisals  on  the  grasping  main  : 
Wild  m  pursuit  they  are  endangervd  more. 
Than  when  they  combated  the  storms  befbre. 
The  miner  thus  through  perils  digs  his  way, 
Equal  to  theirs,  and  deeper  than  the  sea  ! 
Drawing,  in  pestilential  steams,  his  breath, 
Resolv'd  to  conquer,  though  he  combats  Death. 
Night's  gloomy  realms  his  pointed  steel  invades. 
The  courts  of  Pluto,  and  infsmal  shades  : 
He  cuts  through  mountains,  subterraneous  lakes. 
Plying  his  wqrk,  each  nervous  stroke  he  takes 
liOOsens  the  earth,  and  the  whole  cavern  shakes. 
Thus,  with  his  brawny  arms,  the  Cyclops  stands. 
To  fbrm  Jove's  lightning,  with  imlifted  hands. 
The  ponderous  hammer  with  a  rorce  descends. 
Loud  as  the  thunder  which  his  art  intends ; 
And  as  he  strikes,  with  each  resistless  bkiw 
The  anvil  yields,  and  Etna  groans  below. 

Thy  fam'd  inventions,  Mackworth,  moBt<adotit 
The  miner's  art,  and  make  the  best  return  : 
Thy  speedy  sails,  and  use^l  engines,  show 
A  genius  richer  than  the  mines  below. 
Thousands  of  slaves  nnskiird  Peru  mamtalns'; 
The  hands  that  labour  still  exhaust  the  gams  : 
The  winds,  thy  slaves,  then-  useful  succour  join. 
Convey  thy  ore,  and  labour  at  thy  mina  ; 
Instructed  by  thy  arts,  a  power  they  find 
To  vanquish  realms,  where  once  they  lay  confine 

Downward,  my  Muse,  dhect  thy  steepy  flight. 
Where  smiling  shades  axid  heauteous  realms  invite  | 


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sot  HUMPHET  MACKWORTH. 


75 


I  fint  of  Brittfh  baidi  ta^fckb  tbee  down, 
And fint  with ireahh  tby  graceful  temples  crown; 
l>roagfa  duk  rptresfts  punue  the  wnidiiig  ore, 
South  Natnre't  depths,  and  tWw  her  homidlest 
The  lecfet  came  in  tnnefiil  measures  sing,  [store  ; 
Hot  sMials  first  are  fram'd,  and  whence  they  spring. 
Whsfter  the  actiire  Sun,  with  ohymic  flames, 
Throo^  poroos  eaith  transmits  his  genial  be^ms; 
With  best  impregnating  the  womb  of  night, 
The  offjpving  shines  with  its  paternal  lif^  : 
On  Britein's  isle  propitioudy  he  shines, 
THilth  joy  descends,  and  labours  in  her  mines, 
OriHiether,  urg'd  by  subterraneous  flames, 
Ihe  esith  fenneBts,  and  flows  m  liqnid  streams ; 
PorfM  fiom  their  dross,  the  nobleir  pacts  refine, 
Beodve  new  Conns,  and  with  finesh  beauties  shine. 
Tims  ihiid  parts,  unknofwfaag  how  to  bum. 
With  cold  ooQgaal'd,  to  solid  metals  turn  2 
For  metals  only  fimn  derourmg  flame 
Preierre  their  beauty,  and  return  the  same 
Boih  ut  and  force  the  weU-wruught  mass  d 
And  'midst  the  fire  its  native  form  retains. 
Or  whether  by  creation  first  they  qirung. 
When  yet  unpois'd  the  world's  great  fsbrie  hung  : 
Metab  the  basb  of  the  Earth  were  made. 
The  ban  on  which  its  fis*d  foundation 's  laid : 
AH  second  causes  they  disdain  to  own. 
And  bom  th'  Ahnighty*s  fiit  sprung  alone. 

Nstore  in  ^acious  beds  presertes  her  store. 
And  keeps  unmix'd  tiie  well-coaqpacted  ore  ; 
The  ipresding  root  a  i|nmerottS  race  maintamt 
Of  bfaadung  limbs,  and  for-eitended  veins  : 
Tbv,  fitin  its  watery  store,  a  spring  supplies 
IV  leaser  streams,  that  round  its  fouotatn  rise ; 
Wliicfa  bounding  out  in  fiiir  meanders  |^y, 
And  o'er  the  meads  in  difierent  currents  stray. 

Hethinln  I  see  the  rounded  metal  spread, 
Tp  be  ennobled  with  our  monarch's  head  : 
Aboat  the  globe  th'  admired  coin  shall  run. 
And  Biske  the  circle  of  its  parent  Sun. 

Ho*  are  thy  reidms,  triumphant  Britain,  blest ! 
^BriehM  with  more  than  all  the  distant  West  ! 
Thy  mn,  no  more  betra3r'd  with  hopes  of  gain, 
ftsll  teoqit  the  dangers  of  a  faithless  main, 
Tnffic  no  more  abroad  for  foreign  spoil, 
Sspplied  with  richer  from  their  native  soil 
1\>  Oowey'i  flood  shall  numerous  traders  come, 
tBpbfd  to  fetch  the  British  bullion  home. 
To  pay  their  tributes  to  its  bounteous  shore, 
Betorning  laden  with  the  Cambrian  ore. 
Ber  absent  fleet  IHitosi's  race  shall  mourn, 
And  viih  ia  vain  to  see  our  sails  return ; 
^  BBKit  heaping  up  their  iisdess  store, 
Stan'4  viih  their  wealth,  amidst  their  riches  poor, 
Wbii»4'er  the  British  banners  are  <liq>lay'd. 
The  mppKant  nataoos  shall  implore  our  i^  : 
Tin,  tbfls  conqwll'd,  the  greater  worlds  confess 
l^nnnlres  oUig'd,  and  sucoour'd  by  the  less. 

fi(w  Cambria's  minss  were  ^  her  oApring 

^HioB  iscred  verse  transmits  the  story  down : 
Mcrim,  a  bard  of  tbe  inspired  train, 
W^h  mystic  anmbers  charra'd  the  Bri6di  plain  ; 
Bdof  d  by  Phoebus,  and  the  tuneibl  Nrae, 
Hiiangvassaared,  and  bis  art  divine  ; 
Aioi  Sshrioa's  fruitftil  banks  he  stood, 
Hii^wdroBS  verse  restrain'd  the  listening  flood ; 
fhemcant'sbri^  goddess  rais'd  her  awftil  head. 
Aid  lo  bcr  ^vs  the  artlol  ibephsid  led. 


Her  swift-decending  steps  the  youth  pursues. 
And  rich  in  ore  the  spacioiis  mountain  views. 
In  beds  distinct  the  wellTang'd  metals  lay. 
Dispersing  rays,  and  counterfeiting  day. 
The  silver,  shedding  beams  of  orient  light^ 
Struck  with  tOQ  fierce  a  glare  his  aching  sight  | 
Like  rising  flames  the  ruddy  copper  show'd. 
And  spread  its  blushes  o*er  the  fUrk  abode  : 
Profuse  of  rajrs,  and  with  unrival'd  beams. 
The  liquid  silver  flow'd  in  restless  streams  : 
Nor  India's  sparkling  gems  are  half  so  bright, 
Nor  waves  above,  that  shine  with  heavenly  light ; 
When  thus  the  Goddess  spake:  "Harmonious  youth, 
Hever'd  for  numbers  fraught  with  sacred  truth  ! 
BeloT'd  by  Heaven  1  attend  while  I  relate 
The  fixM  decree,  and  dark  events  of  Fate. 
CoDceal'd  .these  treasures  lie  in  Nature's  womb. 
For  future  times,  and  ages  yet  to  come. 
When  many  long  revolvmg  years  are  run, 
A  Mro  shaU  ascend  the  British  throne, 
Whose  numerous  triumphs  shall  Augusta  grace. 
In  arms  renown'd,  ador'd  for  plenteous  peace. 
Benestii  his  sway  a  generous  youth  shall  rise. 
With  virtues  bl^  in  happy  coupcils  wise  ; 
Rich  with  the  spoils  of  Learning's  various  store, 
Commandmg  arts,  yet  still  acquiring  more. 
He,  with  success,  shall  enter  this  abode. 
And  Nature  trace  in  paths  before  untrod ; 
The  smiling  offiipring  from  her  womb  remove. 
And  with  her  entrails  glad  the  realms  above. 

**  O  youth  reserv'd  by  more  auspicious  fate. 
With  fiun'd  improvements  to  oblige  the  state ! 
By  wars  empoverish'd,  Albion  mourns  no  more. 
Thy  well-wrought  mines  forbid  her  to  be  poor  : 
The  Karth,  thy  great  exchequer,  ready  lies. 
Which  all  defect  of  iailii^  funds  supplies ; 
Thou  Shalt  a  nation's  pressing  wants  relieve. 
Not  war  can  lavish  more  than  thou  canst  give," 

This,  Mackworth,  fixes  thy  immortal  name. 
The  Muse's  darling,  and  the  boast  of  fame  ; 
No  greater  virtues  on  record  shall  stand. 
Than  thus  with  arts  tO  grace,  with  wealth  enrich  the 
land. 


OVID'S  ART  OF  LOVE* 

BOOK  THB  SECOND  K 

Now  lo  PaBan  sing  !  now  wreaths  prepare  ! 
And  with  repeated  los  fill  the  air  : 
The  prey  is  fall'n  in  my  successful  toils. 
My  artful  nets  enclose  the  lovely  spoib  : 
My  numbers  now,  ye  smiling  lovers,  crown. 
And  make  your  poet  deathless  in  renown  : 
With  lasting  feme  my  verse  shall  be  enrolled. 
And  I  preferred  to  all  the  bards  of  old. 
Thus  Paris  from  the  warlike  Spartans  bore 
Their  ravish'd  bride  ;  to  Ida*s  distant  shore 
Victorious  Pelops  thus  in  triumph  drove 
The  vanquished  maid,  and  thus  enjoy'd  bis  love. 

I  The  first  book  of  Ovid*s  Art  of  Lovie,   is 
printed  in  this  collection,  among  the  poems  of  Mr. 
Dryden  ;  the  third,  among  those  of  Mr.Congreve:  • 
Mr.  Pope's  hand-writmg  enables  us  to  ascribe  the 
second  to  Dr.  Yiilden.iV: 


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T6' 


YALDEN9  POEMS. 


Stay,  etfpr  youth  *.  yoar  bark  's  but  onder  sail ; 
The  distant  port  requiret  a  prosperous  gale. 
*Ti8  not  enough  the  3rielding  beauty  'a  found, 
And  with  my  aid  your  artfd  passion  crovn'd  ; 
The  conquests  our  successful  conduct  gained. 
With  art  must  be  secured,  by  arts  ipaintaic'd. 
The  glory's  more  to  guard,  than  wm  the  prize ; 
There  all  the  toil  and  threatenuig  danger  lies. 
If  ever,  Cupid,  now  indulgent  prove, 
O  Ventis !  aid  ;  thou  chsutning  queen  of  love  ! 
Kind  Erato,  let  thy  auspicious  name 
Inspire  the  work,  and  raise  my  generous  flame. 
The  labour  *s  great  !  a  method  I  design 
For  Love  ;  and  will  the  fetter*d  god  confine : 
The  god  that  roves  the  spaoious  workl  around, 
{n  every  clime,  and  distant  region  found  ; 
Active  and  light,  his  wings  elude  oqr  gnard. 
And  to  confine  a  deity  is  hard  : 
His  guest  from  flight  Mmos  enclos'd  aroand. 
Yet  he  with  wings  a  daring  passage  found. 
Thus  Daedalus  her  ofispring  first  ooi^'d 
Who  with  a  bull  in  lewd  embraces  joined  : 
Her  teeming  won^b  the  horrid  crime  confeM^ly 
Big  with  a  human  bull,  half  man,  half  beast. 
Said  he,  "  Just  Minos,  best  of  human-kind, 
Thy  mercy  let  a  prostrate  exile  find. 
.  By  fates  compelPd  my  native  shores  to  fly, 
Permit  me,  where  I  durst  not  live,  to  die. 
Enlarge  my  son,  if  yon  n^ect  my  tears. 
And  show  compassion  to  his  blooming  years  ] 
Let  not  the  youth  a  long  confinement  moorq. 
Oh  free  the  son,  or  let  his  sire  return  J" 
Thus  he  implor'd,  but  still  implor'd  in  vain, 
Nor  could  the  fr^om  that  he  sought,  obtain, 
Convinc'd  at  length  ;  "  Now,  Dndalus,"  he  cry*d, 
**  Here  's  subject  for  thy  art  that 's  yet  untry'd, 
Minos  the  earth  commands,  and  guards  the  sea, 
No  pass  the  land  affords,  the  deep  no  way  : 
Heaven 's  only  free,  we'll  Heaven's  auspicious  height 
Attempt  to  pass,  where  kinder  fates  jnvite ! 
Favour,  ye  powers  above,  my  daring  flight  ; 
Misfortunes  ofl  prove  to  invention  kind. 
Instruct  our  wit,  and  aid^the  labouring  mind ; 
Foir  who  can  credit  men,  in  wild  despair. 
Should  force  a  passage  through  the  yielding  air  !" 
Feathers  for  wings  designed  the  artist  chose. 
And  bound  with  thread  his  forming  pinions  close  : 
With  tempered  wax  the 'pointed  ends  he  wrought. 
And  to  perfection  his  new  labours  brought. 
The  finished  wings  his  smiling  ofi&pring  views, 
Admires  the  work,  not  conscious  of  their  use  : 
To  whom  the  father  said,  **  Observe  arisrht. 
Observe,  my  son,  these  instruments  of  flight. 
In  vain  the  tyrant  our  escape  retards. 
The  heavens  he  caimot,  all  but  heaven  he  guards  : 
Though  earth  and  seas  elude  thy  father's  care. 
These  mngi  shall  waft  us  through  the  spacious  air. 
Nor  shall  my  son  celestial  signs  survey. 
Far  from  the  radiant  Vhpn  take  your  way  : 
Or  where  Bootes  ^e  chill'd  north  commands. 
And  with  his  fancbion  dread  Orion  stands; 
ril  go  before,  me  still  retain  in  sight, 
Wbere-e»er  I  lead,  securely  make  your  flight. 
For  should  we  upward  soar  too  near  the  Son, 
Dissolved  with  heat,  the  Uonid  wax  will  run  : 
Or  near  the  seas  an  humbler  flight  maintain, 
Our  plumes  will  sufifer  by  the  steaming  main. 
A  medium  keep,  the  winds  observe  aright : 
The  wmds  will  aid  your  advantageous  flight,*' 


He  caution'd  thus,  and  thai  taftrmM  hta  km§. 
As  carefbl  birds  instract  their  tender  young  : 
The  ^treading  wings  tbm  to  his  rtumldett  bound. 
His  body  pois'd,  and  rab'd  him  from  the  groaod. 
PrqMur'd  for  flight,  hit  aged  arms  embrace 
The  tender  yoirth,  whHst  tears  overflow  his  face, 
A  hill  there  was,  firom  whence  the  amdoos  pair 
^issay'd  theh-  wings,  and  forth  thay  laandi'd  in  air  | 
Now  his  expanded  plumes  the  artist  pHea, 
Regfutls  his  son,  and  leads  along  the  skies  ; 
Pleas'd  with  the  novelty  of  flight,  the  boy 
Bounds  m  the  air,  and  upwards  springs  with  jfff* 
The  angler  views  them  fVtun  the  distant  strand. 
And  qnits  the  labours  of  his  trembling  hand. 
Samoa  they  pass,  and  Naxos  in  their  flight. 
And  DeloB,  with  Apollo's  presence  brif^ 
NcMT  on  their  right  Lebinthos'  shores  tiiey  issnd. 
For  fhiitful  lakes  and  shady  gnivea  remmMi 
When  the  aspiring  boy  forgot  his  fears. 
Rash  with  hot  youth  and  unexperkuc'd  years  i 
Upwards  be  soar'd,  maintain*d  a  lofty  moke. 
And  his  directing  fiithei's  way  forsock. 
The  wax,  of  heat  niq)attent,  mdted  ran, 
Nor  could  his  wmgs  sustain  thai  Maze  oif  son. 
From  Heaven  he  views  the  fatal  depths  below. 
Whilst  kill^g  fears  prevent  the  distant  blow. 
His  strugglmg  arms  now  no  assistance  find. 
Nor  poise  the  body,  nor  leceiVe  the  whkl. 
Falling,  his  fiither  he  hnplores  ra  vain. 
To  aid  his  flight,  and  sinking  limbs  sustain  f 
His  name  invokes,  titt  the  e3Q>iring  sound 
Far  in  the  floods  with  Icarus  was  drown'd. 
The  parent  mourns,  a  parent  now  no  mors. 
And  seeks  the  absent  youtii  on  every  shore  ; 
"  Where  's  my  lov*d  son,  my  Icarus  I"  hn  csissi 
'*  Say  m  what  distant  region  of  the  skies. 
Or  faithless  clime,  the  youthful  wanderer  flici  V* 
Then  view'd  his  pmions  seatter'd  o'er  the  sti^am. 
The  shore  his  bones  reoeiv'd,  the  w^^9t§  his  nasK, 
Minos  with  walls  attempted  to  detain 
His  flying  guests,  but  did  attempt  in  vain  : 
Yet  the  wing'd  god  shall  to  oor  rules  submit. 
And  Cupid  yield  to  more  prevailing  wit. 

Thesaslian  arts  m  vain  rash  lovers  use. 
In  vain  with  drugs  the  scornful  maid  abosa : 
The  skilful'st  potions  ineffectual  prove. 
Useless  are  miagic  remedies  in  love : 
Could  charms  prevail,  Ciroe  bad  provM  her  ait. 
And  fond  Medea  fix'd  her  Jason's  heart 
Nor  tempt  with  philters  the  disdahrfnl  dame  ; 
They  rage  mspire,  create  a  frantic  flaoM  : 
Abstein  from  guilt,^  all  vicious  arts  reanave^ 
And  make  yo<ur  passion  worthy  of  her  lova. 
Distnm  your  empty  form  and  boasted  €aoa  j 
,  The  nymph  engage  a  thousand  nobler  ways ; 
To  fix  her  vanquish'd  heart  enthrely  tbina, 
AccompliA'd  graces  to  your  native  join. 
Beauty  's  but  frail,  a  charm  that  soon  daeacya. 
Its  lustre  fiules  as  rolling  yeats  increase, 
And  age  still  triumphs  o'er  the  rum'd  iboe. 
This  truth  the  fiur,  hut  short-ttvVl  Hly  Oiam, 
And  prickels  that  survive  the  Ihded  rase. 
Learn,  lovely  boy,  be  witii  instroctiou  wise  ! 
Beauty  and  youth  mis-qient  are  past  advkse. 
Then  cultivate  thy  mind  witii  wit  and  fame. 
Those  lasting  charms  survive  the  funeral  fiama^ 

With  arts  and  sciences  your  breast  loipvofay 
Of  high  import  are  laaguages  inlova; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


OVID'S  ART  OF  LOVE. 


7T 


Itie&iB'^  Ulfws  «*s  not  fiur  nor  yoang, 
Bat  ek)queiil  and  ehanmng:  with  his  tongot  s 
And  yet  for  him  eontendmg  beauties  strove, 
ind  every  aea  nymph  sought  the  hero's  lore. 
Calypso  mooni'd  when  he  forsook  her  shores^ 
And  whh  tad  waves  detttn'd  his  hasty  oais. 
Oft  Ae  inqnk'd  of  mhiHi  Uhmi's  hte, 
Makiof  him  oft  the  wondroos  tale  relate ;  [frame, 
Which  with  suck  grace  his  florid  tongoe -could 
Hie  story  slili  vras  new,  though  stall  the  same^ 
Kow  standing  on  the  khores,  '*  again  declare,'* 
Calypso  Gry'd,  **  yoor  fiun'd  eiqploits  in  war.'^ 
He  with  a  wand,  a  slender  wand  he  bore, 
Defineates  every  action  on  the  shore.  [sand : 

"  Hete^Troy,**  says  he,  then  draws  the  waUs  in 
"  There  Simota  flows,  here  my  battalions  stand. 
A  field  tbera  wna,  (and  then  describes  the  field) 
Where  Dolon,  vrith  rewards  deoeiv'd,  we  kill'd« 
Just  thos  intxesMsh'd  imagine  Rhesus  lies, 
And  here  we  make  his  miike  steeds  oor  prize.'* 
Much  he  described,  when  a  destructive  wavn 
Wash^  ofl^the  slender  Troy,  and,  rolling,  gave 
To  Bhent  and  his  tents  one  ooomion  grave. 
long  with  deli^  hia  channing  tongue  die  heard. 
The  wcU-raiaVl  paaskm  m  her  looks  appear'd  : 
The  goddess  weeps  to  view  his  spreading  sails, 
So  much  a  soldier  with  tiie  sex  prevails. 
Distmst  thy  form,  fond  youth,  and  kam  to  know. 
There  *B  more  reqnir'd  in  tove  than  empty  show.   - 
With  just  diadaia  she  treats  the  haughty  mind, 
lis  complaisance  that  makes  a  beaoty  kind. 
Ihe  hawk  we  hate  that  ahvays  Ihes  in  arms^ 
Thersging  wolf  that  every  flkxdt  alarms  : 
But  the  mihl  swallow  none  with  toils  infosts. 
And  none  the  soft  Chaonian  bird  molests. 
B^tes  aivoid,  and  nide  contention  sfann  ; 
A  woman 's  with  submissive  language  won. 
Lst  the  wife  rail,  and  injur'd  hiutaid  swear, 
Soch  freedoms  are  allow'd  tiie  mBrr3r'd  pair : 
Bisooid  and  strife  to  nuptial  beds  belong, 
The  portion  jnatifies  a  clamorous  tongue. 
With- tender  vows  the  yieldmg  meid  endear^ 
And  let  her  only  sighs  and  wnbes  hear. 
Contrive  with  worda  and  aetioDi  to  dehi^ 
Still  charm  her  ear,  and  still  oblige  her  sight, 

I  no  instructions  to  the  rich  impart. 
He  needs  not,  that  presents,  ray  osdess  art  t 
The  giving  lover 's  handsome,  valiant,  wise. 
His  ha{^  fortune  is  above  advioe. 
1  to  the  needy  shig  ;  though  poor,  I  love. 
And  wanting  weahfa,  with  meltoig  language  move. 
His  honour  storms  a  stabbom  damsel's  door  ; 
I  ^m  cautious  to  aflront,  because  1  'm  poor. 
With  pleasing  arts  I  court,  with  arts  posse  si  ; 
Or  if  I  'ra  bounteous,  tis  in  pnmuses. 
Eusg'd,  I  ruffled  once  Gorfama^s  hair, 
Long  was  1  banished  by  the  iii§ur'd  feir  ; 
teo^  mournful  nights  for  thii  oonsum'd  alone, 
^  could  my  tears  the  fhrious  maid  atone. 
Weeping,  she  vow'd,  a  suit  of  point  I  tore ; 
^thely  the  wow'd,  but  I  must  purchase  more. 
Mske  not  TOUT  guilty  master's  crime  your  own, 
Bot  by  my  punishment  my  errour  shun  i 
Indecent  fury  from  her  si^t  remove. 
No  paoion  let  your  mistress  know,  but  love. 

Yet  if  the  haughty  nymph  's  uidcind  and  coy. 
Or  shuns  your  sight ;  have  patience,  and  ei^oy. 
By  slow  degrees  we  bend  the  stubborn  bow; 
^'^^  fiMce  roHits,  with  art  wiU  pliant  grow. 


In  Tain  we  stem  a  torrent's  ra{nd  force. 
But  swim  with  ease,  complying  with  its  course. 
By  gentler  arts  we  savage  beasts  reclaim. 
And  lions,  bulls,  and  furious  tigers  tame. 
Fiercely  Atlanta  o*er  the  forest  rov'd. 
Cruel  and  wild,  and  yet  at  last  she  fov'd. 
Melanion  long  deplor'd  his  hopeless  flame. 
And  weeping  in  the  woods  pursued  the  scomfol 
On  his  submissive  neck  her  toik  he  wore,    [dame  : 
And  with  his  mistress  chased  the  dreadful  boar. 
Arm'd  to  the  woods  I  bid  you  not  repair. 
Nor  follow  over  hills  the  savage  fair  : 
My  soft  ii^unctions  less  severe  you  '11  find. 
Easy  to  learn,  and  fram'd  to  every  mind. 
Her  wishes  never,  nor  her  will  withstand  :    . 
Submit,  you  conquer ;  serve,  and  you  '11  command. 
Her  words  approve,  deny  what  she  denies  ;  [spise : 
Like,  where  she  likes ;   and  where  she  scorns,  de- 
Laugh  when  she  smiles :  when  sad,  dissolve  m  tears  ; 
Let  every  gesture  sympathize  with  hers. 
If  she  delights,  as  women  will,  in  play. 
Her  stakes  return,  your  ready  losmgs  pay.   . 
When  she  's  at  cards,  or  rattling  dice  she  throws^ 
Connive  at  cheats,  and  generously  lose. 
A  smiluig  winner  let  the  ujrmph  remain. 
Let  3rour  pleas'd  mistress  every  conquest  gain. 
In  heat,  with  an  umbrella  r«idy  stand  ; 
When  walkmg,  offer  your  officious  hand. 
Her  tremblrag  hands,  though  you  sustam  the  C6M| 
Cherish,  and  to  your  warmer  bosom  hold. 
Think  no  infterior  office  a  disgrace ; 
No  action,  that  a  mistress  gains,  is  base. 
The  hero,  that  eluded  Juno's  spite. 
And  every  monster  overcame  in  fi§^  ; 
That  past  so  many  bloody  labours  o'er. 
And  well  deserv'd  that  Heav'n  whose  weight  he  bote, 
Amidst  lonhm  damsels  carding  stands. 
And  gra^  the  distaff' wKh  obedient  hands  ; 
In  all  commands  the  haughty  dame  obeys  ; 
And  who  disdains  to  act  like  Hercules  ? 
If  she  's  at  law,  be  sure  commend  the  laws. 
Solicit  with  the  judge,  or  plead  her  catise. 
With  patience  at  the  assignation  wait 
Early  appear.,  attend  her  coming  late. 
Whene'er  she  wants  a  messei^r,  away. 
And.  her  commands  with  flsrmg  faet  obey. 
When  late  from  supper  she  's  returning  home. 
And  calls  her  servant,  as  a  servant  come. 
She  for  the  country  ah*  retires  from  town. 
You  want  a  coach,  or  horse,  why  foot  it  down  ? 
£^  not  the  sultry  season  of  the  year. 
The  falling  snows,  or  constant  rain  deter. 
Love  is  a  warfare  ;  an  ignoble  sloth  . 
Seems  equally  contemptible  in  both  : 
In  both  are  watchings,  duels,  anxious  carea. 
The  soldier  thus,  and  thus  the  lover  feres ; 
With  rain  he»s  drench'd,  with  pierdng  tempeCta 

shakes. 
And  on  the  colder  earth  his  lodging  takes. 
FBioe  says,  that  Phcebos  kept  Admetus'  heid. 
And  coarsely  in  an  humble  cottage  fer*d  ; 
No  servile  c^ces  the  god  denjr'd  ; 
Learn  this  ye  lovers,  and  renounce  your  pride. 

When  all  excess  is  to  your  mistress  haid. 
When  every  door  secured,  and  whidow  barr'd  ; 
The  roof  untile,  some  de^>erate  passage  find ; 
You  cannot  be  too  bold  to  make  her  kind  : 
Oh,  how  she'll  clasp  you  when  the  danger'^  o'er. 
And  vahie  yourdeservms  pessioo  more  ! 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


rs 


tALDEN^  POEMSi 


Thus  thn)ugfa  ttit  boitlMOut  teM  Leaoder  vatp^d^ 
Not  to  pdlFen,  bat  show  how  much  be  kn^ 

Nor  blushing  think  how  Urn  you  ooodeioend 
To  court  her  makb,  and  make  each  fiave  your 

friend : 
Each  by  tbeir  names  &miliarly  tahit«, 
And  beg  tbem  to  promote  your  amorous  suit 
Perhaps  a  brib^  *8  reqoir'd  j  your  bounty  sbov, 
And  from  your  tlender'fbrtnne  part  peHaom. 
A  double  bribe  the  chamber-maid  secures ; 
And  when  the  favorite 's  gain'd,  the  frtr  it  yomr't: 
She  n\  add  to  every  thing  you  do,  a  grace. 
And  watch  the  wanton  hours,  and  time  her  praise. 
When  servants  merry  make,  and  feast  and  pby. 
Then  give  her  something  to  keep  holiday. 
Betain  tbem  every  one,  the  porter  most. 
And  her  who  nightly  guards  the  happy  coast 

I  no  profuse  nor  costly  gifU  commend. 
But  choose  and  time  it  well,  whate*er  you  send. 
Provide  the  product  of  the  early  year. 
And  let  your  boy  the  rural  present  bear  ; 
Tell  her  'twa»  fresh,  and  from  your  manor  brought. 
Though  stale,  and  in  the  6nburt>  market  bought: 
The  first  ripe  cluster  let  your  mistress  eat. 
With  chesnuts,  melons,  and  fair  peaches  treat; 
Some  larger  fish,  or  choicer  fowl  present, 
Tliey  recoQunend  your  panion,  where  they  *re  sent 
TIs  with  these  arts  the  childless  miser*s  caught. 
Thus  future  legacies  are  basely  bought : 
But  may  hb  name  with  infiuny  be  curst. 
That  practised  them  on  love,  and  woman  first ! 

In  tender  sonnets  most  your  flame  rehearse. 
But  who,  alas !  of  late  are  mov>d  by  verse? 
Women  a  wealthy-treatmg  fool  admire. 
Applaud  your  wit,  but  costly  gifts  require. 
This  is  the  golden  age,  all  worship  gold, 
RoDOurs  are  purchas  d,  Love  and  Beauty  sold : 
Should  Homer  come  with  his  harmonkms  train. 
And  not  present.  Homer's  tam*d  out  aga'm. 
Some  of  the  sex  have  sense,  their  number 's  small; 
Most  ignorant,  yet  vain  pretenders  all: 
Platter  aright,  smooth  empty  stanzas  send  j 
They  seldom  sense,  but  sound  andrhjrine  commend. 
ShouM  you  with  art  compose  each  jmlishM  line. 
And  make  her,  like  your  numbers,  all  divine : 
Yet  she  'D  a  treat,  or  worthless  toy  prefer 
To  all  the  i  omiortal  poet's  boasted  care. 
Bat  be  that  covets  to  retain  her  heart. 
Let  him  apply  his  flattery  with  ait: 
With  lasting  laptnreson  her  beaular  gaze. 
And  make  her  ferm  the  sut^ectof  hispraiap. 
Purple  eommend,  when  she's  in  purple  drsss'd ; 
In  scarlet,  swear  she  kwks  inscarlet  best: 
imcfd  in  goM,  her  graceful  mien  adore, 
Vofwmg  those  eyes  transcend  the  sparkling  ore. 
With  prudence  place  eadi  compUmieni  aright, 
Tbongh  clad  in  crape,  let  homdy  crape  delight 
In  sorted  colours,  praise  a  vary'd  dress  ; 
In  night-cloaths,  or  commode,  let  either  please. 
Or  when  she  coinbs,  or  when  she  curb  her  hair, 
Ooimnend  her  curioos  ait  and  gallant  ahr. 
Singmg,  her  voice,  dancing,  her  0tep  admire: 
Applaod  when  she  desists,  and  still  desire : 
LetaD  her  words  and  actions  wonder  raise. 
View  her  with  nqptnres,  and  with  raptures  praise. 
Pierce  as  Medusa  thou^  your  mistress  prove. 
These  arts  will  teach  the  stubborn  beauty  love. 

Be  cautious  lest  you  over-act  your  put. 
And  temper  your  hypocrisy  with  art 


let  no  fiUse  aolioll  give  3^oar  words  the  lie. 
For,  ondeoeiv^d^  she  's  ever  after  shy. 
In  Autumn  oft,  when  the  luxurioos  year 
Purples  the  grape,  and  shows  the  vintage  near  f 
When  suHiy  heats,  when  coUer  blasts  arise. 
And  bodies  laagoiBh  with  inconstant  albea: 
If  vitious  hoaven  infSocts  her  tender  veins. 
And  in  her  tainted  blood  some  fever  reigna; 
Then  your  kind  voifs,  your  pious  care  besta^ 
The  blessings  yon  expect  to  reap,  then  sow : 
Think  nothhig  nauseous  in  her  looth'd  disease. 
But  with  your  ready  hand  contrive  to  pleoae  s 
Weep  in  her  sight,  then  fonder  kisses  give. 
And  let  her  burning  lips  yoar  tears  re(»ve« 
Much  for  her  saflBty  vow,  but  biider  speak. 
Let  the  nsrmph  hear  the  lavish  vows  yon  niakeu 
As  health  returns,  so  let  your  joys  appear. 
Oft  smile  with  hope,  and  oft  confess  yovrfbasu 
This  in  her  breast  remains,  these  pleasing  chnims 
Secure  a  passage  to  her  grateful  armsr 
Reach  nothing  nauseous  to  her  taste  or  sight, 
OfRcious  only  when  you  most  delight : 
Nor  bitterilimnghts,  nor  hated  medicines  give  : 
Let  her  finom  rivals  what  she  loaths  receive,     [shore. 
Those  prosperous  winds  that  launch'd  our  bark  horn 
When  out  at  sea  assist  its  coarse  no  more : 
Time  will  your  knowledge  in  our  art  improve, 
X3ive  strength  and  vigour  to  your  formmg  kWa. 
The  dreadful  bull  was  hot  a  calf  when  young  ; 
The  lofty  oak  but  firom  an  acorn  sprung : 
From  narrow  springs  the  nobkst  currents  Ikm, 
But  swell  their  floc^  and  spread  thcai  as  tfaey  go. 
Be  conversant  with  love,  no  toils  refuse. 
And  conquer  all  fatigues  with  fiequemtose. 
Still  let  her  hear  your  sighs,  yoar  passion  view. 
And  night  and  day  the  flying  maad  pursue. 
Then  pause  awhile;  by  fallow  fields  we  gain  ; 
A  thuity  soil  receives  the  weloooie  rain. 
Phyllis  was  calm  while  with  Demophoon  hleas^ 
His  absenoe  wounded  most  her  raging  bisait : 
Thus  his  chaste  consort  for  Ulysses  ham*d. 
And  Laodamia  thps  her  abatot  husband  moomMt 
With  speed  return,  you  'to  ruin^  by  delays. 
Some  happy  youth  may  aooii  supply  your  place. 
When  Sparta's  prince  was  flam  his  Helen  gone, 
Goukl  Helen  be  content  to  lie  alone  ? 
She  in  his  bed  reoehr^  her  amorous  guest. 
And  nightly  dasp'd  him  %o  her  panting  breast 
Unthindking  cuckold,  to  a  pro)*erb  blind  ! 
What  trust  a  beau  and  a  firir  wi^  behind  ! 
Let  fbrioos  hawks  thy  trembling  turtles  keep. 
And  to  the  mountain  wolves  commit  thy  sheiepi 
Helen  is  guiltless,  and  her  lover's  crime 
Bat  what  yourself  wouM  act  another  time ! 
The  youth  was  pressing,  tiie  dull  husband  gone. 
Let  every  woman  make  the  oaae  her  own : 
Who  could  a  prince,  by  Venus  sent,  refuit  ? 
The  cuckold's  nogh^ence  is  her  excuse. 

But  not  the  fbmmng  boar  whom  spears  summnd^ 
Revenging  on  tiie  dogs  his  mortal  wound. 
Nor  lioness,  whose  young  receive  the  brnst. 
Nor  viper  by  unwary  footsteps  prest. 
Nor  drunkard  by  th'  Aonian  god  possest. 
Transcend  the  woman's  rage,  by  fbry  led. 
To  find  a  rival  m  her  mjar'd  bed. 
With  firo  and  sword  she  flies,  the  finsaticdama 
Disdams  the  thoughts  of  tenderness  or  shame. 
Her  oflEipring's  bkiod  enrag'd  Medea  ^nH, 
A  crueimother,  for  the  fother's  guilt 


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ovnys  ART  lOP  love. 


79 


Aad  Prosne^  iiiird«oUtig  Ivirf  pKvres, 
That  dire  revenge  punoes  neglected  loves. 
Where  sacred  ties  of  honour  are  destroy*d, 
Such  ernmn  cautious  Bovers  must  aroid. 
Think  not  my  precepta  constancy  ei^oiii, 
Veoosavert!  ttrnoi>ler '8myi}e«fn.  ^ 

At  laiige  enjoy,  conceal  your  passion  well, 
Norose  the  modish  vanity  to  tell : 
Avoid  prfSfwting  of  suspM^ted  toys. 
Nor  to  an  hour  confine  your  vaned  jo3rs  : 
Desert  the  shades  you  (hd  Irequent  before, 
Nor  make  them  conscious  to  a  new  amour* 
The  npufb,  irtien  she  betrays,  disdains  your  guilt, 
AndbysQch  fidsdiood  taught,  she  learns  to  jilt 
While  with  a  wife  Atrides  liv'd  content,  .   . 

Their  loves  were  mutual,  and  she  ionocent : 
Bot  when  inflam'd  with  every  charming  face, 
HerleediKjBS  still  maintam*d  an  equal  paice. 
Cfarjses,  as  Fame  bad  told  her,  pray*d  in  vaiii| 
Nor  coidd  by  gifts  his  captive  girl  obtain ; 
Mborofbl  Briseis,  thy  complaints  she  heard. 
And  how  his  lost  the  tedious  war  deferred. 
TUs  tamely  hesofd,  but  with  resentment  view*d 
The  victor  by  his  beautiotts  slave  subdued : 
With  rage  she  saw  her  own  neglected  charms. 
And  took  JEgisthns  to  her  iijurM  arms. 
T\>  hot  and  shame  by  his  enmplel^. 
Who  dnsi  ao  opeidy  profime  her  bed. 

What  fOQ  eoDoeal,  her  more  observing  eye 
Fnhaps  betrays :  with  oaths  the  h^  deny. 
And  bolAy  give  her  jealousy  the  lie ; 
Not  too  snbmisBive  seem,  nor  over-Und ; 
That  are  the  tymptoms  of  a  guilty  mind : 
But  no  caresses,  no  endearments  spare, 
Agoymentpac^Ses  the  angry  £ur.     . 
llMe  are  that  strong  provoking  potions  praise. 
And  nature  with  pemicioQS  med 'cines  reise: 
Nor  drags,  nor  herbs,  wiD  what  you  fiuicy  prove, 
Aad  I  pronounce  them  poisonous  all  in  love. 
SoBM  pepper  bnns'd  witii  seeds  of  nettles  join. 
And  elaiy  steep  in  bowls  of  mellow  wine : 
Venos  is  most  averse  to  ibrc'd  delights, 
fictortsd  flamea  poUote  her  genial  rites. 
With  fishes  qpawn  thy  feeble  nerves  recruit, 
Aad  with  eiingo*s  hot  salacious  root : 
The  goddess  worshipp'd  by  th*  Erycian  swains 
Megan's  white  shidkt,  so  fiuni,  disdains. 
Nev  eggs  they  take,  and  hooey's  liquid  juice. 
And  leaves  and  apples  of  the  pine  infuse. 
Prescribe  no  more,  my  Iduse,  nor  medicines  give: 
Beaoty  and  youth  need  no  provocative. 

You  that  cooccaPd  your  secret  crimes  before 
t'roclum  them  now,  now  publish  each  amour. 
Nor  tax  me  with  inconstancy  $  we  find 
The  driving  baiiL  requires  a  veering  wind ; 
Nov  northern  blasts  we  court,  now  southern  gales. 
And  every  point  befriends'our  shifted  sails. 
Thus  chariot-drivers  with  a  flowing  rein 
IKfed  theb  steads,  then  curb  them  in  again. 
Indulgence  oft  corrupts  the  faithless  dame, 
SecoDs  firom  rivals  ahe  neglects  your  flame : 
The  Bund  without  variety  yt  dov^d. 
And  oaoseates  pleasures  it  has  long  enjoyed. 
But  ss  ^  fire,  whose  wasted  strength  decUnei, 
Converts  to  ashes,  and  but  faintly  shines; 
Vhensubhnr^  brought,  the  spreading  flames rttOrD, 
Andgkmbg  embers  with  fredi^\iTy  bum : 
A  rival  thus  the  ungrateful  maid  reclaims, 
Bevives  de^,  and  feeds  her  dying  flames : 


'  Oft  make  her  jealous,  give  your  fondness  o'er. 
And  teaze  her  often  with  some  new  ^mour. 
Happy,  thrice  happy  youth,  with  pleasures  blest. 
Too  great,  too  exquisite  to  be  exprest. 
That  view'st  the  anguish  of  her  jealous  breast ! 
Whene'er  thy  guilt  the  slighted  beauty  knows, 
She  swoons ;  her  voice,  and  then  her  colour  goes. 
Oft  would  my  furious  nymph,  in  burning  rage. 
Assault  my  locks,  and  with  her  nails  engage  : 
Then  how  she'd  weep,  what  piercing  glances  cast ! 
And  vow  to  hate  the  per{ur*d  wretch  at  last 
I^t  not  your  mistress  long  jrour  falsehood  mourn  ; 
Negleeted  fondness  will  to  fury  turn : 
But  kindly  clasp  her  in  your  arms  again. 
And  on  your  breast  her  drooping  head  sustain  i 
Whilst  weeping  kiss,  amidst,  her  tears  enjoy. 
And  with  excess  of  bliss  her  rage  destroy. 
Let  her  awhile  lament,  awhile  complam. 
Then  die  with  pleasure,  as  she  died  with  pain. 
Enjoyment  cures  her  with  its  powerful  charms. 
She  '11  sign  a  pardon  in  your  active  arms. 

First  nature  lay  an  undigested  mass. 
Heaven,  earth,  and  ocean,  wore  one  conmion  face  r 
Then  vaulted  heaven  was  fiam'd,  waves  earth  enclos'4$' 
And  Chaos  was  hi  beauteous  form  disposed ; 
The  beasts  inliabit  woods,  the  birds  the  air, 
And  to  the  floods  the  scaly  fry  repair. 
Mankind  alone  ei^*d  no  certam  place. 
On  rapine  liv'd  a  rode  unpdish'd  race : 
Caves  were  their  houses,  herijs  their  food  and  bed. 
Whilst  each  a  savage  from  the  other  fled. 
Love  first  disarm'd  the  fierceness  of  their  mind. 
And  in  one  bed  the  men  and  women  join'd. 
The  youth  was  eager,  but  unskilled  in  joy, 
Nor  was  the  unexperienc'd  virgin  coy  ! 
Tliey  knew  no  courtship,  no  instructor  found, 
Yet  they  e^joy'd,  and  bless'd  the  pleasmg  wound. 
The  birds  Vith  consorts  propagate  their  kind. 
And  sporting  fish  their  finny  beauties  find : 
In  amorous  folds  the  wanton  seipents  twine. 
And  dogs  with  their  salacious  females  join. 
The  lusty  bull  delights  his  frisking  dames. 
And  more  lascivious  goat  her  male  inflames. 
Mares  furious  grow  with  love,  their  boundaries  force, 
Plungmg  through  waves  to  meet  the  neighing  hone. 
Go  on  brave  youth,  thy  generous  vigour  try. 
To  the  resenting  maid  this  charm  apply : 
Love's  softening  pleasures  every  grwf  remove. 
There's  nothing  that  can  make  your  peace  like  love. 
From4rug8  and  philtres  no  redreas  you  '11  find. 
But  nature  with  your  mistress  will  be  kind. 
The  love  that's  uncoostrain'd  will  kmg  endure, 
Machaon's  art  was  false,  but  mine  is  sure. 

Whilst  thus  I  sung,  inflam'd  with  nobler  fire, 
I  heard  the  great  Apollo*s  tuneful  lyre ; 
His  hand  a  branch  of  spreadmg  laurel  bore. 
And  on  his  head  a  laurel  wreath  he  wore ; 
Around  he  cast  diffusive  ra3rs  of  light. 
Confessing  all  the  god  to  human  sight 
**  Thou  master  of  lascivious  arts,"  he  said, 
'*  To  my  frequented  fane  thy  pupils  lead : 
And  there,  inscrib'd  in  characters  of  gold. 
This  celebrated  sentence  you  '11  behold. 
*  Pint  know  yourself  ;'  who  to  hunself  is  known. 
Shall  love  with  conduct,  and  his  wishes  crown. 
Where  Nature  has  a  handsome  face  bestow'd, 
Or  graceful  sliape,  let  both  be  often  showed  : 
Let  men  of  wit  and  humour  silence  shun« 
T&e  artist  sing,  and  soldier  bluster  on : 


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so 


YALDEN^  POEMS. 


Of  long  harangues,  ye  eloqtieDt,  take  heed, 
Nor  thy  damii*d  woiis,  thou  teazing  poet,  read.** 
Thtw  Pho&bus  spake :  a  just  obedience  give. 
And  these  injunctions  from  a  god  receive. 

I  mysteries  unfbld ;  to  my  advice 
Attend,  ye  vulgar  lovers,  and  grow  wise. 
The  thriving  grain  in  harvest  often  foils : 
.  Oft  prosperous  winds  turn  adverse  to  our  sails : 
Tew  are  the  pleasures,  though  the  toils  are  great : 
With  patience  must  submissive  lovers  wait 
What  hares  on  Athos,  bees  on  Hybla  feed. 
Or  berries  on  the  circling  ivy  breed ; 
As  shells  on  sandy  shores,  as  stars  above, 
So  numerous  are  the  sure  fatigues  of  love. 
Hie  lady^s  gone  abroad,  you  're  told ;  though  seen, 
Distrust  your  eyes,  believe  her  not  within. 
Her  lodgings  on  the  promisM  night  are  close ; 
Kesent  it  not,  but  on  the  earth  repose. 
Her  maid  will  cry,  with  an  insulting  tone, 
••  What  makes  you  saunter  here  ?  you  sot,  begone." 
With  moving  words  the  cruel  nymph  entreat. 
And  place  your  garland  on  the  bolted  gate. 

Why  do  I  light  and  vulgar  precepts  use  ? 
A  nobler  sutject  now  inspires  niy  Muse : 
Approaching  joys  1  smg ;  ye  youths  draw  near, 
L»ten  ye  happy  lovers  and  give  ear : 
The  labour  's  great,  and  daring  is  my  song. 
Labours  and  great  attempts  to  Love  belong. 
As  from  the  sacred  oracles  of  Jove 
Beceive  these  grand  mysterious  truths  in  love. 
Look  down  when  she  the  ogling  spark  invites, 
Kor  touch  the  conscious  tablets  when  she  writes. 
Appear  not  iealous  though  she  *s  much  from  home. 
Let  her  at  {Measure  go,  unquestioned  come. 
TTilf  crafty  husband  to  their  wives  permit, 
And  learn  when  she  *s  engaged  to  wink  at  it. 
I  my  own  frailties  modestly  confess ; 
And,  bhishing,  give  those  precepts  I  transgress ; 
Shall  I,  with  patience  the  known  signal  h^r, 
Retire,  and  leave  a  happy  rival  there  ! 
What !  tamely  suffer  the  provoking  wrong. 
And  be  afraid  to  use  my  hands  or  tongue ! 
Corinna's  husband  kiss'd  her  in  my  sight ; 
I  bfeat  the  saucy  fool,  and  seized  my  right, 
I  like  a  fury  for  my  nymph  engage. 
And  like  a  mad-man,  when  I  miss  her,  rage. 
My  passion  still  prevails,  convinced  I  yield  ! 
He  that  submits  to  this  is  better  skiird. 

Expose  not,  though  you  find  her  guilty  flame. 
Lest  she  abandon  modesty  and  shame  : 
Conceal  her  faults,  no  secret  crimes  upbraid; 
Nothing  '•  80  fond  as  a  suspected  maid, 
Discovered  love  increases  unth  despair. 
When  both  alike  the  guilt  and  scandal  share : 
All  sense  of  modesty  they  lose  in  time. 
Whilst  each  encourages  the  other's  crime. 

In  Heaven  this  story 's  fam'd  above  the  rest. 
Amongst  th'  immortal  drolls  a  standing  jest : 
How  Vulcan  two  transgressing  lovers  caught. 
And  every  god  a  pleas'd  spectator,  brought 
Great  Mars  for  Venus  fblt  a  guilty  flame. 
Neglected  war,  and  own'd  a  lover's  name ; 
To  his  desires  the  queen  of  Love  inclined ; 
No  nymph  in  Heaven 's  so  willing,  none  so  kind. 
Oft  the  fascivKMis  fair,  with  scornful  pride. 
Would  Vulcan's  foot  and  sooty  hands  deride. 
Yet  both  with  deceucv  their  passion  bore. 
And  modestly  oonceu'd  the  close  amour. 


But  by  the  Son  betray'<i  b  tlieSr  embnoe, 

(For  what  escapes  the  Sun's  observing  rays  i 

He  told  th'  affronted  god  of  his  disgrace. 

Ah  foolish  Sun  !  and  much  nnskill'd  m  kire. 

Thou  hast  an  ill  example  set  above  I 

Nevdr  a  fair  oflendiiig  nymph  betray. 

She  '11  gratefully  obl^  you  every  way ;  ' 

The  crafty  spoose  around  his  bed  prepares 

Nets  that  deceive  the  eye,  and  secret  snaress 

A  joiuney  feigns,  th*  impatient  lovers  met. 

And  naked  were  expos'd  in  Vulcan's  net< 

The  gods  deride  the  criminals  in  efaaini^ 

And  scarce  from  tears  the  qoeen  of  Love  reft«n»i» 

Nor  could  her  hands  conceal  her  guilty  ftoe« 

She  wants  that  cover  for  another  place. 

To  surly  Mars  a  gay  spectator  sM, 

"  Why  so  uneasy  in  that  envy^d  bed  ? 

On  me.transfer  your  chains;  1  '|1  f^reely  coma 

For  your  release,  and  suffer  in  your  room.*' 

At  length,  kind  Neptune,  freed  by  tfay  desires^ 

Mars  goes  for  Crete,  to  Paphos  she  retires. 

Their  loves  augmented  with  revengeful  fiics : 

Now  conversant  with  infamy  and  shame. 

They  set  no  bounds  to  their  lit^entioos  flame. 

But,  honest  Vulcan,  what  waa  thy  pretence^ 

To  act  so  much  unlike  a  god  of  semto  ? 

They  sin  in  public,  you  the  shame  repent, 

Convinc'd  that  loves  increase  with  poBishment. 

Though  in  your  power,  a  rival  ne*er  ea^Mse, 

Never  hb  intercqyted  jojrs  disclose: 

This  I  command,  Venus  commands  the  same. 

Who  hates  the  snares  she  once  sustain'd  witli  t 

What  impious  wretch  will-Ceres^  rites  i 
Or  Juno's  solemn  mysteries  disclose  I 
His  witty  torments  Tantalus  deserves. 
That  thirsts  in  waves,  and  viewmg  banqoets  sLusan 
But  Venus  most  in  secrecy  delights  ; 
Away,  ye  bablers,  from  her  sUent  rites ! 
No  pomp  her  mysteries  attends,  no  noise  f 
No  soundhig  brass  prodaims  the  latent  joyi. 
With  folded  arms  the  happy  pair  possess. 
Nor  should  the  fond  betraying  tongue  confess 
Those  raptures,  which  no  language  cm  eapreMk 
When  naked  Venus  cast  her  robes  aside. 
The  parts  obscene  her  hands  extended  hide : 
No  girl  on  propagating  beasts  will  gaxe. 
But  hangs  her  h^,  and  turns  away  her  face* 
We  darken*d  beds  and  doors  for  love  provide; 
What  nature  cannot,  decent  habits  bide, 
Ix>ve  darkness  courts,  at  most  a  glinmering  lig^ 
To  raise  our  joys,  and  just  oblige  the  sight. 
Ere  happy  men  beneath  a  roof  were  laid, 
When  oaks  provided  them  with  food  and  shades 
Some  gloomy  cave  reoeiv'd  the  wanton  pair  ; 
For  light  too  modest,  and  unshaded  air ! 
From  public  view  they  decently  retir'd. 
And  secretly  perfbrm'd  what  love  inqiir'd. 
Now  scarce  a  modish  fop  about  the  town« 
Butboasts  with  whom,  how  oft,  andwhere  tsras  done) 
They  taste  no  pleasure,  relish  no  ddight. 
Till  they  recount  what  pass'd  the  happy  nif^t. 
But  men  of  honour  always  thought  it  base. 
To  prostitute  each  kinder  nymph's  embraoe  r 
To  blast  her  fame,  and  vaiidy  hurt  his  own. 
And  furnish  scandal  for  a  lewd  lampoon. 
And  here  I  must  some  guilty  arts  acensa. 
And  dismgenuous  shifts  that  lovers  use, 
To  wrong  the  chaste,  and  innocent  abuse* 


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OVID'S  ART  OF  LOVE. 


11 


Warn  long  re|iuls>d  they  find  tfa^  couttship  VBin, 
Her  chaitbcter  with  infiuny  they  stain: 
Deny^d  her  person,  they  debauch  her  ftme, 
Aad  brand  her  imioceDce  with  pablic  shame. 
Go,  jealous  fool,  the  injur'd  beauty  guard, 
let  every  door  he  lock'd  and  wladaw  barr'd ! 
The  sufbring  nymph  remams  espos'd  to  wrcsog; 
Her  name 's  a  prostitute  to  every  tongue; 
For  malice  will  with  joy  the  lie  receive, 
Bepoft,  and  what  it  widies  true,  believe. 

With  care  conceal  whatever  defects  yta  find, 
To  all  her  fiuitts  seem  like  a  lover  blind. 
Naked  Andromeda  when  Perseus  viewed. 
He  saw  her  fisults,  but  yet  pronounc'd  them  good. 
Andromache  was  tall,  yet  some  report 
Her  Hector  was  so  blizid,  he  thought  her  short. 
At  firrt  what 's  nauseous,  lessens  by  degrees. 
Young  loves  are  nice,  and  difficult  to  please. 
The  infiuit  plant,  that  bears  a  tender  rind. 
Keels  to  and  fro  with  every  breath  of  wind: 
Bat  shooting  upward  to  a  tree  at  last, 
It  ttems  the  storm,  and  braves  the  stitwigcst  hlaft 
Time  will  defects  sind  blemishes  endear. 
And  make  them  lovely  to  your  eyes  appear: 
UiiDsoal  scents  at  first  may  give  ofience; 
Time  reconciles  them  to  the  vanquished  sense : 
Her  vices  soften  with  some  kinder  phrase; 
If  she  is  swarthy  as  the  Negro's  fiu», 
GUI  it  a  graceful  brown,  and  that  complexion  {nraise. 
The  ruddy  lass  most  be  like  Venus  fiur. 
Or  like  MJnervB  that  has  yellow  hair. 
If  pale  and  meagre,  praise  her  shape  and  youth, 
Active  when  small,  when  grots  she 's  phunp  and 
Every  excess  by  softening  terms  disguise,  [smooth. 
And  in  some  neighhouring  virtue  hide  each  vice. 

Nor  ask  her  age,  consult  no  register, 
tender  whose  reign  she 's  bom,  or  what 's  the  year. 
If  fedoig  yonth  checkers  her  hair  with  white, 
Acperience  makes  her  perfect  in  delight; 
In  her  embrace  sublimer  joys  arefoimdy 
A  finijtful  soil,  and  cuHivatal  ground  1 
The  hours  enjoy  whilst  jrouth  and  pleasures  last, 
•Age  hurries  on,  and  Desith  pursues  too  fest. 
Or  plough  the  seas,  or  cultivate  the  land. 
Or  wield  the  sword  in  thy  adventurous  hand: 
Or  much  in  love  thy  nervous  strength  empky, 
Bmbraoe  the  feir,  the  grateful  maid  ei\joy; 
Pleasure  and  wealth  reward  thy  pleasing  pains. 
The  labour 's  great,  but  greater  far  the  gains. 
•Add  their  aq>erience  in  affiurs  of  love, 
for  years  and  practice  do  alike  improve; 
TWr  arts  repair  the  injuries  of  time, 
And  still  preseire  them  in  their  chamung  prime: 
In  vary'd  ways  they  act  the  pleasure  o^er, 
Not  pictured  postures  can  instruct  you  more, 
^cy  want  no  courtship  to  provoke  delight, 
But  meet  yonr  warmth  with  eager  appetite: 
Oire  me  enjoyment,  when  the  willmg  dame 
OkwB  with  desires,  and  bums  with  equal  flame. 
Ilove  to  hear  the  soft  transporting  joys, 
Tbe  frequent  sighs,  the  tender  murmuring  voice: 
To  see  her  eyes  with  vary'd  pleasure  move, 
™  all  the  nymph  confess  the  power  of  love, 
]^^nre's  not  thus  indulgent  to  the  young, 
*JjMe  joys  alone  to  riper  years  belong  : 
Who  youth  enjoys,  drinks  crude  unrndy  wom^ 
J^ege  your  girt  and  qmgbtly  juice  reftie, 
"WW  their  fweets^  ilMl  jdmJ^  ttie  taite  dtvhie. 

VOL  XI. 


To  Helen  who  'd  Hermione  prefer. 
Or  Gorg^  think  beyond  her  mother  foir: 
But  he  that  covets  tbe  experienced  dame, 
Shall  crown  his  joys,  and  triumph  in  his  flame. 

One  conscious  bed  receives  the  happy  pair: 
Retire,  my  Muse  ;  the  door  demands  thy  care. 
What  charming  words,  what  tender  things  are  said  t 
What  language  flows  without  thy  useless  aid ! 
There  shall  the  roving  hand  emplojrment  find. 
Inspire  new  flames,  and  make  ev'n  virgins  kind. 
Thus  Hector  did  Andromache  delight. 
Hector  in  love  victorious,  as  in  fight 
When  weary  from  the  field  Achilles  came. 
Thus  with  delays  he  rais'd  Briseis'  flame : 
Ah,  could  those  arms,  those  fetal  hands  delight, 
Inspire  kind  thoughts,  and  raise  thy  appetite ! 
Couldst  thou,  fond  maid,  be  charmM  with  his  em- 
brace, 
Stani'd  with  the  blood  of  half  thy  royal  race  ? 

Nor  yet  with  speed  the  fleeting  pleasures  waste,  . 
StiU  moderate  your  love's  impetuous  haste : 
The  bashful  virgin,  though  appearing  coy. 
Detains  your  hand,  and  hugs  the  proflfer'd  joy. 
Then  view  her  eyes  with  humid  lustre  bright. 
Sparkling  with  rage,  and  trembling  with  delight? 
Her  kind  complaints,  her  melting  accents  hear. 
The  eye  she  charms,  and  wounds  the  listening  ear. 
Desert  not  then  the  clasping  nymph's  embrace. 
But  with  her  love  mamtain  an  equal  pace : 
Raise  to  her  heights  the  transports  of  your  soul„ 
And  fly  united  to  the  happy  goal. 
Observe  these  precepts  when,  with  leisure  blcjt. 
No  threatening  fears  your  private  hours  molest ; 
When  danger  's  near,  your  active  force  employ. 
And  urge  with  eager  speed  the  hasty  joy : 
Then  ply  your  oars,  then  practise  this  advice, 
And  strain  with  whip  and  spur,  to  gain  the  prize. 

The  woric's  complete :  triumphant  palms  prepare. 
With  flowery  wreaths  adorn  my  flowmg  hair. 
As  to  the  Greeks  was  Podalirius'  art. 
To  heal  with  med'cmes  the  afflicted  part: 
Nestor's  advice,  Achilles'  arms  in  field, 
Automedon  for  ehariot-drivhig  skili'd; 
As  Chalchas  could  explain  the  mystic  bird. 
And  Telemon  could  wield  the  brandish'd  sword: 
Such  to  the  town  my  fem'd  instructions  prove, 
So  much  am  I  renown'd  for  arts  of  love: 
Me  every  youth  shall  praise,  extol  my  name, 
And  o'er  the  globe  dtflfuse  my  lastmg  feme. 
I  arms  provide  against  the  scomfiil  fair; 
Thus  Vulcan  arm'd  Achilles  for  the  war. 
Whatever  youth  shall  with  my  aid  o'ercome. 
And  lead  his  Amazon  in  triumph  home; 
Let  him  that  conquers,  and  enjoys  the  dame. 
In  gratitude  for  his  instructed  flame. 
Inscribe  the  spoils  with  my  auspicious  name. 

The  tender  girls  my  precepts  next  demand: 
Them  I  commit  t»  a  more  ijLilful  hand. 


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82 


YALDEN^  POEMS. 


AK  tSSAT  OM  TUB  CRAlACTll  OP 

SIR    WILLOUGHBY   ASTON, 
LATE  OF  ASTON  IN  CHESHIRE, 

1704, 

to  THE   tADY  CUE  WE   OF  UTKINTOH. 
MADAM, 

As  when  the  eagle,  with  a  parent's  love, 
Picparea  her  young  to  Tisit  realms  above  : 
With  heaven's  full  lustre  she  allures  him  on. 
First  to  admire,  and  then  approach  the  Sun  ; 
Unweary'd  he  surveys  the  ori)  of  light, 
Charm'd  by  the  object  to  maintam  his  flight 

To  you  th'  aspiring  Muse  her  labour  brings, 
Thus'tries  its  fiite,  and  thus  expands  her  wings  : 
Tempted  to  gaze  on  your  auspicious  light, 
Thb  hasty  buth  to  you  directs  its  flight ; 
*rhe  beauties  of  your  mind  transported  views, 
Admiring  sings,  and  pleased  her  flight  pursues. 

Permit  these  loose,  unfinished  Imes  to  claim 
The  fchid  protectiOD  of  your  parent's  name  : 
Though  void  of  ornaments,  and  every  grace. 
Accept  the  piece,  as  sacred  to  your  race. 
Where  you  behold  your  great  fbre-£sthers  fame. 
And  trace  the  springs  from  whence  your  virtues 

came : 
Survey  the  triumphs,  and  the  honours  view, 
That  by  a  long  descent  devolve  on  you. 

In  vain  the  Muse  her  vanquish'd  pencil  tries. 
Where  unexhausted  stores  of  beauty  rise  : 
Lan<aiid  and  fiunt  her  labours  must  appear. 
Whilst  3rou  transcend  her  fimrest  character. 
So  bright  in  you  your  father's  graces  shine. 
And  all  the  virtues  of  your  ancient  line ; 
That  none  wHh  pleasure  can  the  copy  view, 
Whilst  the  original  survives  in  you. 


What  man  tenown'd !  what  British  worthy*s  praise 
Insphres  the  Muse  !  and  consecrates  her  lays  ! 
Record  thy  Aston's  celdmted  name. 
Display  his  virtues,  and  transmit  his  fame. 
Illustrious  actions  to  thy  care  belong. 
And  form  the  beauties  of  heroic  song: 
None  e'er  appeared  with  so  iinmcrse  a  store, 
Nor  ever  grac'd  harmoidous  nnmbrrs  more. 

Nor  stain,  my  Muse,  with  thy  officious  tears, 
The  bright  example  for  flucceedmg  years: 
Whilst  othen  in  dejected  notes  complain, 
Sublime  thy  ioog,  attempt  a  nobler  strain. 
With  verse  assuage  his  pious  offqiring's  care. 
And  cafan  the  sorrows  of  the  weeping  foir : 
Dispel  the  shad '«  ihat  Fate  untimely  spread, 
And  cease  to  nranra  for  the  immortal  dead. 

Where  outstretched  Britain  in  the  ocean 's  lost. 
And  Dee  and  rapid  Mersey  bound  the  coast ; 
There  hills  arise  with  sylvan  honours  crown'd. 
There  friiitftil  vales  and  shady  streams  abound : 
Not  Median  groves,  nor  Tempees  boasted  pUin, 
Nor  where  Pactolus'  sands  emich  the  main. 
Can  yield  a  prospect  £sirer  to  the  sight. 
Nor  charm  with  scenes  of  more  august  delist. 

Here  Lupus  and  his  wariike  chi&  obtam'd 
Imperial  sway,  and  great  in  honoun  reign'd : 
Deriving  titles  from  their  swords  alone. 
Their  laws  preserved,  and  liberties  their  own. 


As  when  two  swelUng  floods  their  w^ves  oppote. 
Nor  would  confound  the  urns  from  whence  they 
But  by  degrees  uniting  in  a  stream,  [roae  : 

Foiget  their  fountains,  and  become  the  same. 
Thus  strove  th«  Britains  with  the  Norman  race. 
Fierce  with  their  wrongs,  and  conscious  of  disgr^  s 
But  when  the  fury  of  their  arms  was  o'er. 
Whom  thirst  of  empire  had  engaged  before. 
Now  Friendship  binds,  and  Love  unites  the  moicw 
From  whom  a  long  descent  of  worthies  dime. 
Just  to  the  glories  of  thefar  martial  Une : 
Admiring  Fame  their  matchless  force  recortlSy 
Their  bounteous  minds,  and  hospitable  boaidt. 
Where  Weever  hastens  to  receive  the  Dane, 
Refipeshing  with  united  streams  the  plam; 
A  rising  ftibric,  with,  majestic  grace. 
Demands  the  tribute  of  thy  lofty  praise  : 
There  Aston  stands  conspicuous  to  the  siglit| 
To  Aston,  Muse,  direct  ^y  pleasing  flight  1 
Prom  for  the  pompous  edifi^  behold. 
Just  the  proportions,  and  the  structure  boUL 
Beauty  is  there  with  elegance  expren'd, 
Improv'd  with  art,  with  native  grandeur  blesi*d# 
What  nobler  object  could  the  worthy  find. 
To  signalize  the  greatness  of  his  mind. 
Than  to  adorn,  with  so  august  a  frame, 
The  place  that  gave  his  ancestors  a  name? 

Delightful  scene  !  thy  patron*s  early  cart. 
Who  rais'd  thee  up  magn^cently  foir ! 
He  form'd  thy  beauties,  and  increased  thy  stove. 
Great  in  thyself,  but  m  thy  founder  more. 

From  generous  Hudard,  whose  \ictorioii8  wmxd 
Made  Aston  stoop  beneath  a  foreign  lord. 
Twenty  successive  chiefs  descended  down; 
Illustrious  all,  and  matchless  m  renown. 
When  injured  barons  durst  by  arms  restrain 
Their  sovereign's  pride,  on  the  embattled  plain; 
And  rival  roses,  with  impetuous  rage, 
Involv'd  in  blood  the  next  descending  age  : 
Or  when  abroad  we  nobler  conquests  sought. 
For  empire  shwe,  for  Fame  and  Beauty  fought; 
Tiieir  great  exploits  oiu*  British  annals  grace^ 
And  ancient  bards  immortalize  the  race. 
No  lineage  can  a  nobler  subject  yield. 
Nor  oftener  shar'd  the  triumphs  of  the  field : 
Renown'd  in  war,  by  arts  endear'd  to  fome. 
Worthy  thehr  high  descent,  and  glorious  name. 

But  though  so  many  pious  worthies  join. 
To  form  the  lustre  of  a  noble  line : 
Pass  not,  ungrateful  njrmph,  neglected  by 
A  shade  reoown*d  !  a  name  that  cannot  die  I 
His  father's  fame  with  awful  steps  pursue. 
And  raise  thy  flight  wi^  the  transporting  view. 
^Vhcn  loud  Sedition  call'd  him  early  forth. 
To  merit  wreaths,  and  signalize  his  worth; 
His  bounteous  mmd  supply 'd  the  royal  part 
With  flowing  fortunes,  and  a  faithfol  heart 
His  sword  and  pen  were  drawn  in  just  defenoa 
Of  sufiering  prelates,  and  an  injur'd  prince : 
And  as  some  midnight  wolf,  by  hunger  press*^ 
With  boundless  fury  would  the  plains  iimt; 
But  if  he  hears  the  lion's  awfol  voice, 
His  head  he  couches,  and  contracts  his  pain  t 
Thus  raging  Faction  murmur'd  m  its  d^ 
Restrain'd  and  aw'd  by  his  subTuner  pen : 
And  when  RebelRon  reared  its  guilty  head. 
Before  his  arms  the  vanquish'd  monster  fled. 

Immortal  vhade  !  to  endless  ages  rest ! 
With  joys,  that  never  rebel  tasted,  bless'd: 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ON  SIR  WILLOUGHBY  ASTON. 


9$ 


Ai  dMaipioB  Ibr  the  sacred'st  race  of  men, 
Aooqit  this  tribute  finom  a  grateful  pen ; 
ISrm  to  the  church,  and  lo3ral  to  the  crown 
h  moie  than  ftjne,  and  sanctifies  renown. 

Nor  wonder  then  so  maoy  graces  join'd, 
Td  Ibnn  the  perfect  beauties  of  his  mind : 
He  fiom  his  ancestors  derir'd  them  down, 
IiQwoving  Tirtues  by  descent  his  own. 

And  fint  thy  Aston's  matchless  form^  survey, 
Piram  early  youth  to  nature's  last  decay : 
The  lively  features  of  his  beauty  trace. 
And  give  each  liniment  its  native  grace. 

Gtandeor  and  sweetness  m  his  person  jom'd, 
August  his  presence,  and  his  aspect  kind ; 
His  lofty  stature,  and  distmguish'd  raie^, 
Goofess'dthe  greatness  of  a  soul  within; 
fv  generous  natures  purify  their  clay. 
And  o'er  the  body  spread  a  ludd  ray  : 
Through  every  part  tnformmg  spirits  fly, 
Disdain  restraint,  and  sparkle  at  the  eye. 
&i^  general  histre,  such  resistless  grace, 
His  limbs  adom'd,  and  triumphed  m  his  face, 

fiat  as  the  Earth  in  her  capacious  veins 
Hie  qpleadid  treasure  of  her  mmes  oontahis : 
With  £Mling  flowers  she  paints  the  surface  o'er, 
Aot  inward  shines  with  uneadiausted  store; 
So  lordy  forms  are  on  mankind  bestow'd. 
Only  to  dignify  the  soul's  abode : 
Withhi  the  beams  of  sparkling  wit  we  find, 
Tbecfaarmsof  sense,  and  treasures  of  the  mind.  . 
lodnlgent  Nature  thus  her  bounty  show'd, 
Hus  every  shining  faculty  bestow'd : 
With  stores  enridi'd  his  intellectual  seat. 
And  fonn'd  the  histre  of  his  mind  compleat. 

Where  aged  Cham  in  fiun'd  meanders  flows. 
His  early  youth  a  soft  retirement  chose, 
To  rest  beneath  the  venerable  shade, 
Where  Spenser  song,  and  Cowley's  Muse  was  laid. 
Pnpitiotts  Nature  had  prepar'd  before, 
A  mind  tenacious  of  the  Inmed  store  | 
The  flowing  springs  of  knowledge  to  receive, 
And  take  inqpressions  fint  as  art  could  give. 

Auspicious  Cham  !  not  all  thy  boasted  race 
Of  tunefiil  youths,  that  celebrate  thy  praise ; 
That  in  the  various  spheres  of  learning  shine, 
Bebr'd  by  Phoebus  and  the  sacred  Nhie; 
With  nobier  wreaths  did  e'er  thy  temples  crown. 
Or  add,  like  him,  to  thy  diifus'd  renown. 

And  neid  the  flowing  robe  employ'd  his  care. 
And  bulky  volumes  of  the  painful  bar : 
Though  wealth  and  fhme  the  toilsome  search  attend, 
Yet  he  pursued  it  for  a  nobler  end. 
Obseore  and  intricate  our  laws  appear,         [clear : 
Pop)cx|d  with  comments  that  should  make  them 
His  justice  through  the  gkxMny  mists  survey'd, 
And  Reason  found  by  subtleties  betray'd ; 
With  Ekiquenoe  be  smoothed  the  rugged  way. 
And  scitter'd  shades  with  Judgment's  piercing  ray. 

He  Nature  m  her  dark  recesses  sought, 
And  with  Philooophy  sublim'd  his  thought 
h  all  the  various  puts  of  learning  skiH'd, 
™t  Grecian  sages,  or  the  Roman,  yield : 
He  from  the  andents  drain'd  their  richest  store, 
^eflmog  still  with  wit  the  sparklmg  ore. 
™  did  he  want  the  lyre's  harmonious  sound, 
Whose  pleasmg  accents  all  his  laboun  crown'd : 
^^tonefnl  lyre,  that  charms  us  with  delight, 
^>pe)i  our  cares,  and  glads  the  tedious  night ; 
Ul^^nms  our  pamons,  calms  our  furious  rage, 
"^  joy  of  youth,  and  tht  relief  of  age. 


His  piercing  fiumlties,  serenely  bright. 
Let  inward  to  the  soul  distincter  light : 
His  senses  exquisite,  and  reawn  sound, 
Surmounted  all  the  dbstades  they  fuund. 
In  knowledge  versed,  in  learning's  depths  profbund* 

Nor  were  his  hours  to  books  alone  confin'd^ 
His  person  was  accomplish'd  as  his  mind  : 
He  us'd  his  weapons  with  admir'd  success, 
Exceird  in  courtship,  and  a  kind  address. 
Whether  hie  urg'd  the  couner  to  his  speed, 
Or  tempered  with  his  skill,  the  fiery  steed  ; 
When  foaming  at  the  ring  he  spurns  the  sands, 
Repeats  his  stroke,  and  .launches  as  be  stands ; 
With  grateful  gesture  he  did  each  command. 
And  ply'd  his  reins  with  an  instructive  hand. 
Or  whether,  to  the  sportive  dance  inclined. 
In  lively  measures  he  the  concert  join'd  : 
None  ever  mov'd  with  morv  majestic  pace, 
Show'd  greater  art,  or  more  becx>ming  grace. 

His  flowing  wit,  with  solid  judgment  joined. 
Talents  unit^  rarely  in  a  mind. 
Had  all  the  graces  and  engaging  art. 
That  charm  the  ear  and  captivate  the  heart. 
No  pointed  satire,  nor  morose  disdain, 
Allay'd  the  pleasure  of  his  words  with  pain  : 
His  inoffensive  tongue,  from  slander  fifee. 
From  Fkittery's  vice,  or  blasted  Cahimny  ; 
Knew  all  the  ^rings  that  secret  passions  more, 
Raise  admiration,  or  inspire  with  love. 

Sententious  and  instructive  his  discourse, 
He  urg'd  his  reasons  with  resistless  force. 
A  lively  eloquence  adom'd  his  thought. 
And  happy  turns  of  wit  occui^d  unsought : 
Expressive  words  his  flowing  sense  conveyed. 
Just  were  his  thoughts,  and  powerful  to  persuade. 

But,  goddess,  now  a  nobler  scene  survey. 
Expand  thy  wings,  thy  brightest  charms  display ! 
What  various  beauties  here  distract  thy  sight ! 
What  virtues  that  surmount  thy  towering  flight ! 
As  nameless  stars,  that  form  the  galaxy, 
With  undistmguish*d  lustre  gild  the  sky  ; 
So  shone  the  graces  that  adom'd  his  mind. 
And  with  concenter'd  rays  their  beauties  join'd  : 
Whose  lucid  numbers  but  repel  thy  sight. 
And,  thus  united,  form  one  glorious  orb  of  light. 

Hi$  riper  years  to  wisdom  he  applyd. 
Each  path  pursued,  and  every  conquest  try'd  : 
Wisdom,  the  darlmg  attribute  alone. 
By  which  th'  Almighty's  more  distinctly  known, 
And,  when  contracted  to  a  narrow  span, 
Becomes  the  noblest  fkculty  of  man.  [chace. 

Through  books  he  trac'd  her  in  the   pleasing 
Ransack'd  then:  stores,  and  still  maintain'd  Uts  pace. 
With  crowds,  and  busy  men,  he  strove  to  find 
The  flying  £sir,  the  object  of  his  mind  : 
Through  specious  arts,  through  all  tlicirvain  disguise. 
He  saw;  distinguish'd,  and  obtained  the  prize. 

His  mind,  with  each  superior  talent  ftaugbt, 
For  councils  fbrm'd  his  euterprizing  thought : 
Quick  of  dispatdi,  discreet  in  every  trust, 
Rigidly  hontat,  and  severely  just 
Though  kindness  m  his  generous  bosom  reign'd. 
The  dignity  of  pow'r  he  still  maintain'd : 
None  e'er  discharg'd  affiiirs  with  more  address, 
Serv'd  better  public  posts,  or  sought  them  less. 
His  constancy  appear'd  in  every  state, 
Fix'd  and  unmov'd  as  the  decrees  of  fate : 
No  fluctuating  doubts  his  mind  distress'd. 
Nor  shook  the  strong  foundations  of  his  breaft 


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H 


YALDEN«  POEMS. 


His  resolution  bore  him  still  above 
The  rash  effects  of  enmity  or  love : 
Firm  on  the  basis  of  himself  he  stood. 
Of  right  tenacious,  permanent  in  good. 

Hence  flowed  a  courage  unallay^d  with  fear, 
A  mind  undaunted,  and  a  conscience  clear : 
'^^^ith  innocence  and  virtue  lor  a  guide. 
Successfully  he  stem*d  th'  impetuous  tide. 
Intrepid  thus  he  revolutions  lx>re> 
Kor  deviated  from  paths  he  trod  before : 
The  power  of  Fortune  still  disdain'd  to  oim, 
Kor  courted  smiles,  nor  sunk  beneath  her  firown. 

He  serv  d  his  country,  with  r^aids  above 
Hie  common  viewg  of  mercenary  love  : 
His  passion  such,  if  not  extended  more. 
Am  pious  Romans  to  their  Latium  bore. 
No  specious  kindness  popularly  ieign'd. 
By  interest  rais*d  or  with  ambitkio  stained : 
The  tender  piety  his  actions  show'd, 
From  duty  sprung,  from  fond  affscUon  flowed. 

Untainted  with  the  stain  of  either  vice. 
Of  lavish  waste,  or  grasping  avarice : 
Nor  squandered  wealth,  nor  with  a  sordid  breast 
Condemned  to  hoards  the  treasures  be  possessed. 
His  hospitable  roof,  with  plenty  Stored, 
Eiyoy'd  the  blessings  of  a  smiling  board : 
Heav*n,  that  had  bless'd  hhn  with  a  large  increase. 
Gave  him  a  soul  deservmg  to  possess. 

The  father's  loyalty  descended  down, 
£ndear*d  by  suffnings,  to  his  ekiest  son. 
As  Hannibal  pursued  the  Roman  state. 
With  double  porticos  of  his  father's  bate: 
Such  fixM  aversion  in  his  bosom  sprung, 
And  armM  his  soul  against  am  factions,  3roa9g: 
A  murdered  prince,  and  slaughtered  parent's  fate. 
On  the  rebellious  race  entail'd  his  hate : 
Firm  to  the  crown  his  duty  he  retained. 
And  o'er  his  heart  his  rightful  monarch  fdgn'd. 

View  beauties  yet  of  a  sublimer  kind. 
The  heavenly  offipring  of  a  pious  mind : 
Charms  that  from  innocenoe  and  virtue  flow. 
That  to  religion  all  their  splendour  owe ; 
Where  no  obscuring  qiots  their  lustre  hide. 
By  crimes  untaiifted,  undeform'd  with  pnde. 

Bless'd  Cliarity,  the  pure  etherial  ray. 
That  Heaven  itself  does  to  our  breasts  eonvey ; 
In  larger  portions  to  his  bosom  came. 
And  o'er  his  soul  difius'd  a  stronger  flam& 
In  him  the  wretched  alwajrs  found  relief. 
Patron  of  want,  redresser  of  their  grief: 
To  him  th'  afflicted  never  sued  in  vain. 
He  felt  their  miseries,  and  eas'd  their  pam. 
}n  mkist  of  plenty  free  from  sensual  vice. 
Nor  more  indulged  than  nature  would  suffice  i 
The  calm  and  equal  temper  of  his  soul 
Bid  every  guilty  appetite  control ; 
\Mthin  their  womb  the  vicious  seeds  snppress'd. 
And  strangled  forming  passions  in  his  breast* 
The  Church  in  him  enjoy'd  a  faithful  son, 
Wliose  duty  with  his  early  years  begun : 
A  virtuous  lif<^  his  just  obedience  show'd. 
And  from  religion  his  affection  flow'd  } 
Ixmg  application  fix'd  his  heart  secure. 
He  search'd  her  doctrines,  and  he  found  them  pure. 

The  Liturgy  employ'd  his  daily  care. 
His  public  worship,  and  his  private  prayer : 
To  all  its  rites  conformity  he  paid. 
The  service  ]ov*d^  and  discipline  obej'd. 


[ahe^. 


Such  strong  devotioo,  soch  celesfial  Aro, 
Inflam'd  his  heart,  and  did  his  breast  in^oe  ; 
As  if  religion  had  engroas'd  the  whole. 
And  Heaven  remain'd  the  object  of  his  sooL 

Descend,  my  Muse ;  here  stop  thy  pleasing  flight 
For  mournful  prospects,  gloomy  shades  of  nagbt. 
Attend  the  last  exphring  scene  oi  life, 
A  painful  conflk^  and  unequal  strife : 
Whefe  Nature  languishes  beneath  the  weigtat 
Of  racking  torments,  and  approadung  late. 
With  matchless  patience,  and  nndannted  i 
He  bore  his  anguish,  and  hb  soul  reaign'd: 
As  he  the  glorious  prospect  kept  in  view. 
And  our  old  worki  rejected  for  the  new. 

The  bounteous  Heavens  their  frnitliil 
And  chaste  Lnchia  crown'd  his  nuptial  bed : 
From  whence  a  fair  and  numerous  oflbprmf  < 
The  happy  pledges  of  a  mutual  flame. 
From  warlike  Hudard,  founder  of  his  race, 
TWenty  renown'd  descents  his  lineage  grace  : 
And  from  his  loins  conqilete  the  number  i 
For  every  ancestor  a  smiling  jroung. 

The  happy  husband  of  a  matchless  dame, 
Endear'd  by  virtues,  and  unblemish'd  fame  : 
No  guilty  passion  ever  claim'd  a  part. 
The  consort  of  his  bed  engross'd  bis  heait. 
As  two  fair  tapers  bum  with  equal  flame. 
Their  heat  proportkm'd  and  their  light  the  i 
And  though  by  slow  degrees  they  both  cledine» 
Both  to  the  last  with  the  same  luitre  shine  : 
Such  equal  flames  inqMr'd  the  happy  pair. 
Mutual  their  passkms,  and  the  same  their  cava : 
Though  years  expir'd,  and  youth  oonsnm'd  wmtf. 
Their  fond  affections  never  felt  deeay. 

As  when  the  Sun  our  hemisphere  rengna* 
He  leaves  us  light,  and  by  refiectkm  ahines^ 
And  when  the  gloomy  interval  is  o'er. 
He  rises  bright  and  glorious  as  before : 
Such  likeness  in  his  successor  we  find, 
I  lieft  as  the  image  of  himself  bdiind ; 
With  all  the  virtues  of  hb  mce  endued, 
I  The  happy  father  's  in  the  son  renew'd. 

Methinks  I  see  a  pompous  tomb  arise. 
Beauteous  the  form,  magnificient  the  size : 
Enchas'd  with  ore,  with  well-wrought  maiMe  madl% 
Worthy  the  artist,  and  the  glorioos  shade. 
Crowds  of  officious  ai^ls  weep  aroond. 
With  lamps  extinguished,  and  their  robes  unbound  f 
With  heads  redin'd,  and  drooping  wings  they  moonv 
Form'd  to  sustain,  and  grace  the  ponderous  urn. 

In  abject  postures,  and  a  flowing  dress. 
Postures  that  love  and  tenderness  esqwess. 
The  sacred  Nine  surround  the  spacious  tomb^ 
And  spread  infectious  sorrows  o^  the  dome  ^ 
Their  lyres  unstrung  are  thrown  neglected  by* 
And  scatter'd  wreaths  m  just  disorder  lie. 
High  in  the  midst  is  his  effigies  plac'd. 
The  boast  of  art,  with  every  beauty  grac'dk 
Advandag  age  in  every  line  appears. 
And  shades  his  brow  with  honoorable  yeatss 
Just  to  his  form,  his  looks  dissembled  rigfal^ 
With  joy  detain  the  fond  spectator's  s^t. 
Descending  Phoebus  crowns  the  upper  aoeae^ 
His  arm  extended  with  triumphant  greeq. 
The  sacred  wreath  around  his  biows  to  ptaft^ 
And  shedding  on  him  the  paternal  ray& 
In  vain,  alas !  we  mausoleums  rais^ 
Statues  erect,  and  pyramkis  of  pcaisat 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


A  BoUerindnimieiit  remains  behind. 
The  titvlyriaamge  of  his  generous  mind, 
The  Mered  pile  r«is*d  by  his  pious  care, 
Magnifioent  with  cost,  with  order  (air ; 
AAoaed  with  aU  that  lavish  art  could  gtre, 
To  late  poBtienty  riiall  make  him  lire. 
lUs  iSiall  dilRue  hia  celebrated  name, 
Moie  than  the  hmidred  tongues  of  bo^  Fame : 
His  maniofy  from  dait  oUiyion  save, 
ffaide  hia  fisie,  and  triumph  o*er  the  grave. 


TO  MYRA. . . .  ADVICE  TO  A  LOVER.  85 

No  prostrate  wretch,  before  the  shrine 

Of  some  lov*d  saint  tSbote, 
E'er  thonght  his  goddess  mora  divine. 

Or  paid  nxMre  awful  love. 
Still  the  diadainful  nymph  looked  dow9 

With  coy  insulting  pride ; 
Recehr'd  mv  passion  with  a  frown. 

Or  tnm'd  her  head  aside. 
Then  Cupid  whiq[>ered  in  my  ear, 

"  Use  more  prevailing  charms ; 
You  modest  whynfaig  fool,  draw  near. 

And  clasp  her  in  jrour  arms. 
With  eager  kisses  tempt  the  maid. 

From  Cynthia*8  feet  depart; 
The  lips  he  briskly  must  invade, 

That  would  possess  the  heart.*' 
With  that  I  shook  off  all  the  sUve, 

My  better  fortunes  tried ; 
When  Cynthia  in  a  moment  gava 

What  she  for  years  denied. 


TOTBB  MBMOftY  OF 

A  FAIR  YOUNG  LADY, 

1697. 

Whbii  black  with  shades  this  mourning  vault  ^ipeait, 
And  the  relenting  marble  flows  with  tears ; 
Think  then  what  grieft  a  pareirt*s  bosom  wound. 
Whose  £it»l  loss  enrieh*d  this  hallowed  ground. 

Strew  lilies  here,  and  myrtle  wreaths  prepare, 
To  crown  the  fiiding  triumphs  of  the  fair : 
Here  Uooming  youth  and  charming  beauties  lie. 
Till  Earth  resigns  them  to  their  native  Ay  j 
like  chtBa  laid  for  ages  to  refine. 
And  make  her  body,  like  the  soul,  divroe. 

Umningled  may  the  fragrant  dust  remain. 
Kg  commoB  earth  the  sacred  sweets  prophane  ; 
But  let  her  om  preserve  its  virgm  store, 
Ctate  snd  vBsnlly'dassbe  liv'd  before ! 


TO  MYRA; 

wirxTEH  IN  Baa  cleopatra« 

Hiai,  lofftij  Myra,  you  behold 
ThewQoders  Beauty  wrought  of  old. 
In  every  moamfiil  page  appears 
The  nymi^*s  disdaw,  and  lover's  tears. 
Wlnlst  these  feign*d  tragic  tales  you  view. 
Fondly  you  weep,  and  think  them  true ; 
Luneat  the  hero's  dighted  flame, 
Yet  praise  the  fiur  ungrateful  dame. 

For  youths  unknown  no  longer  grieve. 
But  rather  heal  the  wounds  you  give ; 
The  dacves  your  esres  have  ruined,  mourn, 
And  pity  flames  with  which  your  lovers  bum. 

Oh,  hadst  thon  liv'd  in  former  days. 
Thus  Fame  had  song  lov'd  M3rra's  praise  : 
Tlie  triumphs  of  thy  haughty  reign. 
Thy  matchless  form  and  cold  disdain : 
Thy  beaoties  had  remain'd  as  long 
The  tiieme  of  every  poet's  song : 
Then  Myra's  conquests  had  been  wrote. 
And  Cleopatra  died  forgot. 


ADVICE  TO  A  LOVER. 


Fot  many  mMoccessfol  yean. 

At  Qnithia's  feet  flay; 
Battering  them  often  with  my  tearSj 

)  lifh'dy  but  duist  not  pray. 


OW  TBI 

CONQUEST  OF  SAMUR^ 
A  PINDARIC  ODI^ 

HUMBLY   IVSCaiBED 
TO  HIS  MOST  S4CKBD  AND  VlCTOtlOUS 
I  MAJESTY ; 

1695. 

Onc«  more,  my  Muse,  resume  thy  lyre  ! 
Ofheroes,  arms,  and  lofty  triumphs  sing : 
Strike,  boldly  strike  th'  unpractised  string; 
TIs  William's  aota  my  soaring  thoughts  inspire. 

And  animate  my  breast  with  nobler  fire. 
Hy  daring  hand  the  willing  Ijrre  obeys. 

Untaught  it  sonnds  the  hero's  praise : 
Each  tuneftil  string  repeats  the  victor's  name 
And  echoes  back  £e  loud  applause  of  Fame. 
No  longer.  Muse,  tlie  blot  Maria  mourn. 
With  trophies  now  her  brighter  shrine  adorn : 
Now  sing  her  hero's  fame  in  lofty  strains. 
Worthy  the  captive  Mase,  and  Namur's  ranqniih'd 
pUins. 

Nature  ne*er  brought  a  fierce  destroyer  forth, 

Of  that  portentious  size  and  growth  : 
But  still,  to  poize  the  balance  of  the  age, 
She  introduced  a  hero  on  cbe  stage. 
Injurious  Lewis  like  a  torrent  grows, 
A  rapid  torrent  that  the  bank  o'erflows. 
And  robs  our  western  worid  of  its  repose ; 
In  vain  the  imperial  eagle  stq^  his  course. 
In  vain  confederate  arms  oppise : 
On  you  (great  prince  ! )  the  infested  nations  wait^ 
And  from  your  sword  attend  a  milder  fate* 
The  injur'd  Belgians  William's  aid  implore, 

A  numerous  army  wastes  their  shore  : 
Embark,  my  Muse,  upon  the  British  fleet. 

And  on  the  ready  hero  wait. 
He  flies,  like  Jove  to  meet  the  Theban  dame. 

When  arm'd  with  lightning's  printed  flame. 
And  in  his  hand  th'  avenging  thunder  bore  : 
The  terrour  of  his  ensigns  ^  confess  his  power. 


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86 


YALDEN'S  POEMS. 


Quick  of  dispaf^,  prerenting  fen. 
As  cowards  cantioiis,  bolder  thut  despair : 
Silent,  yet  swift  jeU(  light,  his  active  soul 
Reaves  at  oo<^e.tbe  barriers  and  the  distant  goal. 
Wh9t  labour  will  the  hero  cbuffe  1 
What  flOtiob  worthy  of  a  Muse  ! 
T  ein^loy-tiiie  huiMfred  busy  tongues  of  Fame, 
Animate  her  hondred  mouths  too  few  to  sound  bis 
name.        . 
Nftmuf's  the J[dtfl  in  Honour's  race. 
Tempting  lhej>ri«e,  but  ^tal  is  tbfi  chase : 
At  once  a  lovely  ansl- amazing  sighl^ 
Strikipg  the  eye  with  terrour  and  delight. 
F6nnd^  on  r6ck8  the  imperial  fortress  stands, 
Andfali  around  the  distant  plain  commands : 
Beauty  and  strength  their  utmost  force  impart, 
Tis  wrought  by  Nature,  and  improved  with  art ; 
An  awfiil  pile  !  immoveable  as  Fate, 
Fix'dlikc  the  solid  rock  that  proudly  bears  its  weight 
A  thousand  brazen  mouths  the  walls  surround. 
That  Tomit  flames,  with  ftital  fury  wound  : 
lit  ath  shines  with  terrourthro^  each  smoking  cloud. 
Like  lightning  swift,  and  as  the  thunder  loud. 
Not  the  famM  Golchean  fleece  could  boast 
5o  dread  a  guard,  so  terrible  an  host : 
Nassau  attempts  a  nobler  enterprize. 
The  danger  ^s  more,  and  richer  is  the  prize ; 
Alone  his  arms  can  such  a  power  jengage,   [rage. 
Destroy  with  fiercer  flames,  and  thunder  back  their 
Why  are  the  rapid  Sambre*s  streams  so  slow  | 

llie  tardy  Mase  fbrgeU  to  flow  : 
Their  lagging  waves  upon  the  turrets  gaze, 
Proud  to  reflect  their  Namur*s  awful  ftice  ; 
Whilst  to  th'  astonished  shores  they  tell. 
Those  wondraus  walls  are  inaccessible. 

The  htty  Dion  towers,  fbr  beauty  fiun'd, 
And  sacred  walls,  though  rais'd  by  hands  divine. 

Though  mercenary  gods  her  turrets  fram'd. 
In  strength  and  form  inferior  were  to  thhie ; 
tValls,  that  nor  Grecian  anns,  nor  arts  oouM  gain, 
And  the  divhie  Achilles  storm  in^vain. 
Your  greater  arms,  Nassau,  were  then  unknown, 

Where'er  your  belkywing  engines  shake, 
Where'er  your  more  destnictive  bombs  are  thrown. 
Nature  and  Art  in  vain  resistance  make. 
Nor  durst  the  powers  that  built  defend  their  shat- 
ter'dtown. 
Two  rival  armies  now  possess  the  field. 

In  all  the  horrid  pomp  of  war : 
With  shining  arms  and  brighter  heroes  far. 
Though  both  with  diflerentlooks,and  different  passions 
Betwixt  both  hosU  the  stake  of  honour  lies,  [fiU'd. 
The  object  that  employs  their  arms  and  eyes 
How  to  defend  or  how  to  gain  the  prize. 
The  Britfrns  are  a  warlike  race, 
^         In  arms  expert,  and  fhra'd  fbr  arts  in  peace : 
Your  matchless  deeds,  Nassau,  they  miitate. 
Like  you  they  death  pursue,  and  mshoncertahafiite. 
Not  all  the  bellowmg  engines  of  the  war. 
Amidst  the  storm  can  British  mrods  afinght : 

Nor  sulphur's  blasting  flames  deter. 
That  glare  thro'  clouds  of  smoke  with  horrid  light; 
Though  bullets  there  descend  in  scalding  showers. 
And  those  the  cannon  spare,  the  ambusht  flane 
devours. 
In  fatal  caverns  now  the  teemmg  Earth 

Labours  with  a  destructive  birth : 
The  loud  volcanos  s  etch  their  flaming  jawi , 
And  every  dreadfu  Wast  a  host  destroys; 


This  wreck  of  war  the  upper  regions  shart. 
Whilst  arms,  and  men,  and  rocks  lie  scattar'd  ia  the 
Yet  death  in  every  form  the  Britons  hoe,       [mir* 

And  march  with  an  imdaunted  p«oe : 

Their  fiuthle»  steps  to  various  ruins  lead, 

Hiey  walk  in  sepulchres,  on  graves  they  treMl  $ 

Whilst  rocks  and  mountains  rooted  firom  the 

ground,  [wound. 

Inter  the  hosts  they  slay,  are  tombs  to  those  they 

With  horrid  groans  distorted  Nature 's  rent. 
Loud  as  the  peals  that  shake  the  firmament : 
Whilst  roaring  ordinance  confirm  the  sound* 
And  mimic  thunder  bellows  under  ground. 
Thus  on  Trinacria's  mournful  shores. 
With  ruin  big  the  raging  Etna  roars : 
The  rising  smoke  ob^res  the  darken'd  sky. 
Whilst  high  as  Heaven  its  flaming  entrails  fly  t 
Mountains  and  rocks  its  fiiry  hurls  around, 
%>reading  with  ruins  o'er  the  desolate  ground. 

Whence  spring  those  flowing  rays  of  light  I 
That  pierce  through  war*s  obscurer  night } 
Or  does  the  suppliant  flag  display 
Its  cheerful  beams  of  white  ? 
See !  like  the  phosphorus  of  peace. 
The  shades  retire  before  those  sacred  rays. 
Which  mtroduce  the  bright  victorious  day. 
The  trumpet's  interceding  voice  1  hear. 
Now  6cit  and  tun*d  unto  the  ear: 
The  drums  in  gentler  parlees  beat. 
The  drums  and  trumpets  both  entreat; 
Whilst  war's  alarms  are  charm'd  with  mu9c's 

voice. 
And  all  the  bloody  scene  of  death  withdraws. 

Fam'd  Bouflflers"  self  consents  to  fear, 
Ev'n  BouflSers  dreads  the  British  thuoderer : 
He  sues  fbr  mercy  whilst  he  feels  his  power. 
And  with  a  trembling  hand  subscribes  him  conqueror. 

And  here3rour  worthies  shall  yourtriumphs  grace. 
In  war  your  guard,  your  ornaments  in  peace : 
Heroes  are  William's  and  the  Muse's  care. 
Partake  their  labours,  and  their  laurels  shaie. 

Let  willing  Fame  her  trumpet  sound. 
Great  Ormond's  name  shall  all  her  breath  emfdoyy 

And  fill  the  eclioing  shores  with  joy : 
Whilst  each  oflicious  whtd  conveys  the  sound. 
And  wafts  it  all  the  attentive  world  around. 
In  bloody  camps  be  early  gain'd  renown. 
Early  the  distant  goal  of  honour  won : 
What  tolls,  what  labours,  has  the  hero  bore? 
Not  the  fam'd  Ossory  encountered  more : 
Of  whom  the  Belgic  plains  such  wonders  teU, 
Who  liv'd  so  lov'd  and  so  lamented  fell. 
Triumphant  prince !  thou  patron  of  the  Muse, 

Unweary'd  thee  she  sing8,thy  acts  with  wonder  views  : 
Renown'd  hi  war !  thy  Rhedecina's  pride ! 
Thou  dost  o'er  wit,  and  glorious  camps  preside  ^ 
To  thee  the  care  <^  arnuPand  arts  belong. 

Whose  fiime  shall  live  to  ages  in  heroic  song. 

For  all  thy  victories  in  war. 
You  valiant  Cutts,  th'  oflicious  Muses  oowd. 
For  you  triumphant  wreaths  prqiare. 
Immortal  as  yomr  fame,  and  fiur  as  your  renown. 
Wdl  dki  you  execute  your  great  command. 
And  scatter  deaths  with  adestiuctive  hand  : 
What  wonders  did  your  sword  perfoim^ 
When  urging  on  the  fatal  stOHn, 
Undaunted,  undismay'd ! 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


FABLES. 


87 


Up  to  tiift  walls  oidoiM  with  flames  you  led, 
Aad  ofverlook'd  the  works  on  mig:hty  heaps  of  dead. 
In  yon  the  hero  and  the  poet  meet. 
Your  sword  is  filial,  but  your  numbers  sweet 
Wben  m  Bfaria's  praiie  your  lyre  was  strung, 
Yoa  cbarm*d  the  heavenly  nymph  to  whom  you 

Ob  honour !  more  than  all  thy  bays,  [sung. 
Than  all  the  trophies  fame  and  conquest  raise, 
^  "vw  cbarm'd  Marians  breast,  and  gain'd  Maria's 
praise. 
Indulge  one  grateful  labour  more,  my  Muse, 

A  sut:ject  Friendship  bids  thee  chuse : 
Let  Codrii^g;ton's  lov*d  name  inspire  thy  thought. 
With  such  a  warmth  and  vigour  as  he  fought : 
In  vain  thou  dost  of  arms  and  triumphs  sing, 
Unle«  he  crown  thy  verie,  and  tune  thy  sounding 
string. 
Vktorious  youth !  your  pmrweirs  greatest  pride, 
Whom  gtorious  arms,  and  learned  arts  divide : 
Whilst  imitating  great  Nassau  you  ^ght, 
His  person  guard,  and  conquer'io  his  sight : 
Too  swift  for  Fame  your  early  triumphs  grow. 
And  groves  of  laurel  shade  your  youthful  brow. 
In  yiMi  the  Muses  and  the  Graces  join. 
The  glorious  palm,  and  deathl«>ss  laurels  thine : 
Like  Phoebus'  self  your  charming  Muse  hath  sung 
Like  his  your  warlike  bow  and  tundPul  lyre  is  strung^ 
Bat  who  fiun*d  William's  valour  dares  express. 
No  Muse  can  soar  so  high,  nor  fiuicy  paint 

Each  image  will  appear  too  faint :      [verse. 
Too  weak 's  the  pencil's  art,  and  all  the  pow'r  of 

How  calm  he  look'd,  and  how  serene ! 
Amidst  the  bloody  labours  of  the  field  : 
Unmov'd  be  views  the  bullets  round  him  fly, 

And  dangers  move  with  horrour  by ; 
Whilst  judgment  sway'd  his  nobler  rage  within, 
And  his  presaging  brow  with  hopes  of  conquest  smil'd. 
His  chearfiil  kKiks  a  gayer  dress  put  on. 

His  eyes  with  decent  fury  shone : 
Dangers  Imt  serv'd  to  heighten  every  grace, 
And  add  an  awfiil  terrour  to  the  hero's  face. 

Where'er  in  arms  the  great  Nassau  appears, 
Th'  extreme  of  action  's  there : 
Himself  the  thickest  danger  shares, 
Himself  th*  informing  soul  that  animates  the  war. 
Heroes  of  oM  in  wondrous  armour  fought. 

By  some  immortal  artict  wrought : 
AchtHfis*  arms,  and  Ajax*  seven  fold  shield. 
Were  proof  against  the  dangers  of  the  field. 
But  greater  William  dares  his  breast  expose 

Unarm*d,  unguarded  to  his  foes ; 
A  thousand  deaths  and  ruins  round  him  fled. 
But  durst  not  vioUte  his  sacred  head : 
For  angeb  guard  the  prinoe's  lifo  and  throne, 
Who  Ibr  hi*  enjpjre's  safety  thus  neglects  his  own. 
Had  he  in  ages  past  the  seqptre  sway*d, 
When  sacrpd  rjtes  were  unto  heroes  paiid ; 
His  statue  had  on  every  altar  stood, 
Hb  court  a  temple  been,  his  greater  self  a  god. ' 
Now  tune  thy  Ijrre,  my  Muse,  now  raise  thy  voice* 
Let  Albion  hear,  her  distant  shores  rejoice : 
Thy  solemn  pceans  now  prepare. 
Sweet  as  the  hymns  that  fiird  the  air, 
Whte  Phoebus'  self  retum'd  the  Python*s  conqueror. 
When  every  grove,  with  a  triumphant  song. 
Confessed  the  victor  as  he  pass'd  along, 
Whilst  with  the  trophies  every  hill  was  crown'd, 
And  every  echoing  vale  dispersed  his  fome  around  : 


Am  loud  the  British  shores  their  voices  ra'se, 
And  thus  united  sing  the  godlike  William's  praise.     . 
Wluit  the  fam'd  Merlin's  sacred  verse  of  old, 
And  Nostradamus  prophetic  lines  foretold  | 

To  thee,  oh  happy  Albion  's  shown. 
And  in  Nassau,  the  promise  is  out-done. 
Behold  a  prince  indulgent  Heaven  has  sent. 

Thy  boundless  wishes  to  content : 
A  prophet  great  indeed,  whose  powerful  hand 
Shall  vajiquish  hosts  of  plagues,  and  heal  the  groan- 
ing land. 

The  great  Nassau  now  leads  thy  armies  forth. 
And  shows  the  world  the  British  worth : 

Beneath  his  conduct  they  securely  fight. 
Their  cloud  by  day,  their  guardian  flame  by  night. 

His  bounty  too  shall  every  bard  inspire. 

Reward  their  labours,  and  protect  their  Ijrre; 

For  poets  are  to  warlike  princes  dear. 

And  they  are  valiant  William's  care : 

His  victories  instruct  them  how  to  write,       [wit,. 
William  *!  the  glorious  theme  and  patron  of  their 


ESOP  AT  COURT. 

01, 

SELECT  FABLES. 

1702. 

Vendidit  hie  auro  patriam .... 
fixit  leges  pretio  atque  refixit. 

EiOP  TO  Tn£  KlNO. 


Viae.  JEn, 


VicToaiovs  prince  !  fonn'd  for  mipremc  coounand, 
V^'brthy  the  empire  of  the  seas  and  land ! 
Whilst  impious  Faction  swells  with  native  pride. 
Parties  distract  the  state,  and  chiirch  divide ! 
And  senseless  libels,  with  audacious  style. 
Insult  thy  senate,  and  thy  power  revile ! 
Vouchsafe  to  hear  th'  adminxl  truths  of  old. 
Which  birds  and  beasts  in  sportive  titles  unfold ; 
To  curb  the  insolent,  advance  the  gjod. 
And  quell  the  ragings  of  the  multitude 
O  fam'd  for  arms,  and  matchless  in  renown ! 
Permit  old  y£sop  to  approach  thy  throne  : 
To  you  the  labours  of  his  Muse  belong; 
Accept  the  humble,  but  instructive,  song. 

FABLE    L 

THE  aiVER   AND  TUC  POVNTAI!<S. 

A  arvES,  insolent  with  pride, 
The  Fountain  and  its  Springs  defied ; 
That  Fountain,  from  whose  watery  bed 
Th'  ungrateful  Flood  was  daily  fed. 

'  '  thus  the  rabble  Waves  began: 
"  We're  the  delight  of  gods  an  1  man ! 
How  charming  do  our  tanks  appear  ! 
How  swift  the  stream,  the  flood  how  clear ! 

"  See  how,  by  Nature's  bounty  strong, 
We  V hirl  our  legion  n-a^es  akmg : 
In  soft  meanders  winding  play. 
And  glitter  in  the  face  of  day. 


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88 


YALDEN«  POEMS. 


"  Bwt  thoti,  poor  FotmtMQ,  liUy  soul ! 
Thy  head  absconding  in  a  hole, 
Run'st  meddling  on  from  place  to  place, 
Aaharo*d  to  show  thy  dirty  face ; 
In  rocks  and  gloomy  carenw  found. 
Thou  creep'st  inglorions  under  ground : 
D*  you  hear  ?  henceforth  your  lords  obey ! 
We  the  grand  Waves  assume  the  sway." 

**  Well,  anpry  sirs,  the  Fountain  cry'd, 
And  how  *s  your  streams  to  be  supply *d  ? 
Yc  senseless  fools,  that  would  command. 
Should  I  withdraw  my  bounteous  hand. 
Or  backward  turn  my  watery  store, 
llmt  hour  you  *d  cease,  and  be  no  more. 
Go  ask  that  blustering  fop  the  Wind, 
That  puts  this  whimsy  in  yuur  mind. 
And  makes  your  factious  surges  rise, 
If  he  'U  recruit  you  with  supplies. 

"  And  when  to  native  mud  yon  turn. 
Such  as  a  common -sewer  would  scorn. 
Too  late  you  Ml  curse  this  frantic  whim, 
\Mien  carriers'  steeds  shall  piss  a  nobler  ttream. 

THE    MORAL. 

Unhappy  Britain  !  I  deplore  thy  fate. 
When  juries  packM,  and  bribed,  insult  thy  ftate : 
like  waves  tumultuous,  insolently  wise. 
They  tutor  kings,  and  senators  advise; 
Whilst  old  republicans  direct  the  stream, 
Not  France  and  Rome,  but  monarchy  's  tbdr  aim: 
Fools  rode  by  knaves  !  and  paid  as  they  deserve, 
Deqns'd  whilst  us*d !  then  left  to  hang  or  starve. 

FABLB    II. 

TBB   tI0JI*S  TRBATT  Of  rAlTmOV. 

A  MiGBTT  Lkm  heretofore. 

Of  monstrous  paws  and  dreadful  ro«r. 

Was  bent  npon  a  chase : 
^  Inviting  friends  and  near  allies 

Frankly  to  share  the  sport  and  prae. 

During  the  hunting-^Mice. 
The  Ljmx  and  royal  Panther  came. 
The  Boar  and  Wolf  of  Wolfingham, 

The  articles  were  these  : 
Share  and  share  like,  wbate'er  they  goC, 
The  dividend  upon  the  spot. 

And  so  depart  in  peace. 
A  royal  Hart,  delicious  meat ! 
Destm'd  by  inaiipicious  Fate, 

Was  stsirted  for  the  game: 
The  hunters  run  him  one  and  all. 
The  chase  was  long,  and,  at  the  fid!. 

Each  enter'd  with  his  claim. 
One  lov'd  a  haunch,  and  one  a  side. 
This  ate  it  powder*d,  t*  o<her  dried. 

Each  for  his  share  alone  : 
Old  Grey-beard  then  began  to  roar. 
The  whiskers  twiri'd,  bully'd,  and  swore. 

The  Hart  was  all  his  own. 
•*  And  thus  I  prove  my  title  good; 
My  friend  deceased  sprung  from  our  Uood, 

Half's  mme  as  we  »re  ally'd: 
My  Takrar  clahns  the  oth^  part; 
In  short,  I  love  a  hunted  Hart : 

And  who  dues  noiw  divide  ? " 


The  bilk'd  oonfbdenites  tfiey  stare. 
And  cry'd,  '*  OM  gentleman,  deal  &nv 

For  once  be  just  and  true." 
Quoth  he,  and  looking  woodrons  gram^ 
*'  Behold  my  paws,  the  word  is  mmn; 

And  so  messieurs,  adieu !" 

TBI   MOKAt. 

Tyrants  can  only  be  rettraha'd  hy  might. 
Power's  their  conscience,  and  the  sword  their  liglilt : 
Allies  they  court,  to  compass  private  ends. 
But  abthe  dividend  disclaim  their  friends. 
Yet  boast  not,  France,  of  thy  successful  fraud,^ 
MahitainM  by  blood,  a  torment  whilst  ei^oy^ : 
Imperial  Cessr  drives  the  storm  akx^. 
And  Nanau's  arms  avenge  the  public  wioi^ 

FABLE    IIL 

TBB   BLIND  WOMAN  AND  HEB  SOCTOBi. 

A  WBALTHT  matron,  now  grown  old. 

Was  weak  in  every  part  : 
Afflicted  sore  with  rheums  and  cM, 

Yet  pretty  sound  at  heart. 
'But  most  her  eyes  began  to  fail. 

Deprived  of  needful  light : 
Nor  could  her  spectacles  avail. 

To  rectify  their  sight 

Receipts  she  try'd,  she  doctors' foe*d. 

And  tpu'd  fbr  no  advice 
Of  men  of  skill,  or  quacks  for  need 

That  practise  on  sore  eyes. 

Salves  they  daub*d  on,  and  plaisten  both* 

And  this,  and  that  was  done : 
Then  flannels,  and  a  fimehead-ckith. 

To  bind  and  keep  them  on. 
Her  house,  though  small,  was  fumish'd  neit. 

And  every  room  did  shine 
With  pictures,  tapestry,  and  plate. 

All  rich,  and  wondrous  fine. 
Whilst  they  kept  blind  the  silly  soul. 

Their  hands  found  work  enough  ! 
They  pilfered  plate,  and  goods  they  stole^ 

Till  all  was  carry'd  ofil 
When  they  undanun'd  their  patient's  eyey^ 

And  "  now  pray  how  »s  jrour  sight  ?" 
Cries  t*  other,  "  this  was  my  advice, 

I  knew  't  would  set  you  right :" 
Like  a  stuck  pig  the  woman  star'd. 

And  up  and  down  she  run  : 
With  naked  house  and  walls  quite  scar'd. 

She  found  herself  undone. 
*•  Doctors,  quoth  she,  your  cure 's  my  pain« 

For  what  are  eyes  to  me: 
Bring  salves  and  fbiehead^rloths  again, 

I  've  nothing  left  to  see.* 

THB   MOBAX.. 

See,  iijur'd  Britain,  thy  unhappy  case. 

Thou  patient  with  distempered  eyes : 
State-quaais  but  nourish  the  disesue. 

And  thrive  by  treacherous  advice. 
If  food  of  the  expensive  pam. 

When  eighteen  millions  run  on  tcon: 
Let  them  dap  muiBers  on  agahi. 

And  phyac  thee  of  eighteen  moret 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ThBLES. 


t9 


PABLE    IV. 
T^  satyr's  addeess. 
Tin  Satjm  of  the  woodland  soil, 

HMMght  politiciaiis  then, 
Their  ears  pnck*d  up,  ihek  noses  riioit. 

And  brows  adoni*d  like  aUennen ; 
^fith  asses  hooft,  great  goggle  eyes, 
ibid  anqple  chins  of  Be-*m's  size. 

To  Jonre  tript  up  with  an  address. 

In  &T0ttr  of  the  plains : 
That  it  woold  please  him  to  suppress 

An  heats  and  coMs, his  winds  and  rains; 
The  Sun  that  he  'd  extinguish  too, 
ibid  in  the  skies  hang  something  new. 

**  My  wise  reforming  friends,  quoth  Jove^ 

Oar  elements  are  good  ! 
We  manage  for  the  hest  above, 

HiDugh  not  so  rightly  understood  ; 
Bat  mice  such  profound  squires  are  sent. 
We  11  treat  you  like  the  cream  of  Kent*' 
Then  Jore  brou|^  out  etherial  fire 

In  agiHclttfoig-dish: 
The  qwitling  flame  they  all  admire, 

Twas  fine,  they  vow'd,  as  heart  could  wish  t 
They  gap'd,  they  grin'd,  they  jumped  about ! 
Jofe,  giw  us  that,  the  Sun  put  out ! 
The  chazming  flames  they  all  embrace. 

Which,  urg'd  by  Nature's  laws. 
Their  shaggy  hides  set  in  a  Maze, 

Aral  soundly  singed  their  paws ; 
In  comers  tbea  tbey  sneak'd  with  terronr  dumb. 
And  o'er  th*  immortal  paTements  scud  it  home. 

THI  MOKA^ 

Host  senseless  are  oar  modem  Whiggish  tools, 
Beneath  the  dignity  of  British  fools  ! 
Witii  beef  resolved,  and  fortify*d  with  ale. 
They  censure  monarchs,  and  at  senates  rail ; 
So  eagerly  to  public  mischief  ran, 
Hist  they  fiprent  the  hands,  which  loo  them  on. 
O  tme  machines  !  and  heads  devoid  of  brains ! 
Affront  that  senate  which  your  rights  maintains ! 
Thus  ideots  sport  with  power,  and  flames  embrace, 
TUl  smarting  FoUy  glares  them  in  the  foce. 

FABLE  V. 

TAB   FAKIfXa  AMD  BIS  DOG. 

TBBts  dweh  a  Farmer  in  the  west. 

As  we  Vein  story  told  ; 
Whose  herds  were  large  and  flocks  the  best 

That  ever  lin*d  a  fold. 

Arm'd  with  a  staff,  his  russet  coa^ 

And  Towser  by  his  side. 
Early  and  late  he  tun*d  his  throat 

And  every  wolf  defy*d. 

UiVd  Towser  was  his  hearths  delight, 

In  cringe  and  fowning  skilPd, 
iatmsted  with  the  flocks  by  night. 

And  guardian  of  the  field. 

**  Towser,  quoth  he,  I  'm  for  a  fidr  ; 

Be  regent  in  my  room : 
Pray  of  my  tender  flocks  take  care^ 

Aadkeqpall  safe  at  home. 


I  know  thee  waldiftil,  just,  and  bivM^ 

Right  woi«hy  vnch  a  plaoe : 
No  wily  fox  shstU  thee  deceit. 

Nor  wolf  dare  «b0w  1u8  fooe." 
But  ne'er  did  wolves  a  fok*  infest. 

At  regent  Towser's  rate : 
He  din'd  and  supp'd  upon  the  besl^ 

And  frequent  breaj^ttsts  ate. 

The  Fiarmer  dl  recdvM  adiwse. 

And  laugh'd  at-tfie  icport : 
But  comhig  on  him  by  surprize. 

Just  found  him  at  the  sport 
*•  Ingrateful  beast,  quoth  he,  what 

That  bloody 'mouth  and  paws  ? 
I  know  the  base,  the  treacherous  stains^ 

Thy  breach  of  tmst  and  laws. 

The  fruits  of  my  past  huve  I  see: 

Roger,  the  halter  bring ; 
E'en  truss  him  on  that  pippin  tree^ 

And  let  friend  Towser  swfaig. 

I  'n  spare  tbt  fiunish'd  wolf  and  foi. 

That  ne*er  my  bounty  knew : 
But,  as  the  guardian  of  my  flocks^^ 

This  neckckith  is  your  due." 

THB   MOBAL. 

When  mmisters  their  prince  abuse. 

And  on  the  subjects  prey: 
With  ancient  monarchs  twas  in  uie. 

To  send  them  Towsei^  way. 

FABLE    VL 

THB   POX  AND  BBA1CBLB« 

Rbb,  an  old  poacher  after  game. 

Saw  grapes  look  tempting  fine: 

But,  now  grown  impotent  and  lame. 

Could  not  conunand  the  vine  ; 

His  lips  he  lick*d,  stood  ogling  with  his  eyes, 

Strained  at  a  running  jump,  but  miss'd  the  prise  t 

Quoth  he,  <*  that  honest  Bush  haid-by 

Bfigbt  give  afriend  a  lift : 
In  troth'  its  curtesy  I  '11  try. 
And  venture  for  a  shift" 
Without  more  words  he  bounces  to  the  top. 
But  gor'd  and  wounded  is  oompell'd  to  drop. 
Down  Reynard  came,  batter'd  and  tore^ 

He  blow*d  and  lick'd  his  paws : 
Then  mutter'd  to  himself  and  swore. 
Cursing  the  fatal  cause;  [stakes  iooniy 

"  Damn'd  rascal  shrub,"  quoth  he,  '*  whom  hedgo* 
Beneath  a  fbrs-bush,  or  the  scoundrel  thorn ! 

«  Good  words,  friend  Ren,"  the  Bosh  reply'<|» 

"  Here  no  incroacher  *scapes : 
Those  Foxes  that  on  brambles  ride 
Love  thorns,  as  well  as  grapes ; 
But  better  language  would  your  mouth  becone  s 
If  you  must  curse,  go  curse  the  fool  at  home.'* 

THB  MORAt. 

Who  first  offend,  then  in  disputes  engage, 
iShould  check  their  passions  and  indecent  rage  : 
But  peevish  age,  of  weak  resentments  proud. 
Like  woman  *s  ^tubboni,  impotent,  and  lou^ 


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YALDEire  POEMS. 


m-maiiiieri  nefcr  ftnnd  a  juit  prataioe. 
And  rode  esprenioDS  ibewa  burren  teaie : 
But,  when  high  Uithdesoendf  to  mean  abofe. 
The  crime  rant  fooleity  and  finds  no  eicuie. 

FABLE  Vn. 

TBB  POX  AMD  WXASLB. 

90  TM  LATl  BONOVBABLB    TBB  OOMMIfaiOHBBft  OF 
TBB  PRIZI-OPPICB. 

A  VBBor  Weizle  heretofore, 
Very  Fspacioat,  lank,  and  poor. 
That  had  no  place,  small  oombigs-in. 
And  liv*d  m  terrour  of  the  gm; 
Nor  got  a  morsel  to  his  bole, 
But  what  he  either  begged  or  stole  ; 
One  nighty  a  foraging  for  prey. 
He  found  a  store-hoose  in  his  way : 
Each  cranny  tbei|  he  nimbly  past. 
With  lantern  jaws  and  slender  waist; 
And  made  long  time  his  quarters  good. 
On  slanghter'd  mice  and  wheaten  food. 

But  growing  corpulent  and  round. 
Too  small  the  widest  chink  was  found : 
And  now  he  saueesM  and  thurst  in  vain. 
For  liberty  and  home  agahk 

AFox  that  chanc'd  to  stroll  that  way, 
For  meditation^s  sake,  or  prey. 
Stood  grinning  at  him  for  a  while. 
With  rogueish  looks  and  sneering  smile ; 
And  though  he  shrewdly  gave  a  guess. 
Yet  adiM  him  how  and  what*s  the  case; 
And  why  his  Weazleship  would  keep 
In  durance  vile,  and  play  boh-peep. 

QQOth  he,  "  Alack,  sir,  I  was  lean. 
Haggard  and  poor,  when  I  came  in: 
A  dbeleton,  mete  skin  and  bone  ! 
Though  now  so  gross  and  bulky  grown. 
That  with  good  cbear  and  dainties  fed. 
My  rump  is  bigger  than  my  head. 
But  if  a  helping  paw  you  Ml  lend. 
To  force  aboard  and  serve  a  irieiid ; 
So  fain  I  would  my  bacon  save, 
1 11  kiss  your  foot  and  live  your  slave." 

Quoth  Ren,  «  We  doctors  hold  it  best. 
After  a  long  debauch,  to  fost : 
Then  as  for  discipline,  tis  fit. 
You  take  a  quantum  sufficit 
SladLen  with  abstinence  your  skin. 
And  you  'D  return  as  y<m  got  in : 
For,  till  each  oollop  you  rdhmd. 
You  *re  like  to  quarter  in  LobVpound.** 

TBB  MORAL. 

Ganr,  no  naore  in  foreign  camps  eipose 
Your  sacred  life,  to  Britain's  generous  foes: 
Thy  dread  tribunal  now  erect  at  home. 
And,  arm'd  with  vengeance,  to  her  rescue  come. 

In  power  her  basest  enemies  remain, 
Oppress  thy  subjects,  and  thy  treasures  dram : 
With  sums  immense  they  raise  their  fortunes  high, 
Thou^  aimies  starve,  and  fleets  neglected  lie. 

Bane  of  the  war !  curse  of  thy  martial  mgn ! 
You  share  the  toil  and  dangers,  they  the  gain : 
To  justice  then  the  known  offenders  bring. 
Avenge  thy  people,  and  assert  the  king. 


FABLE  Via 

AXf  OWL  ABB  TBB  SUB* 

A  SAucT  buffle-headed  Owl 

One  morning  on  the  Sun  fell  foul. 

Because  it  made  him  blind: 
But  by  his  sophistry  you  11  guess 
Him  not  of  the  Athenian  race. 

But  a  more  modem  kind. 
The  mora  was  fragrant,  cool,  and  bright^ 
The  Sun  illustrious  with  his  light. 

Dispensing  warmth  to  all : 
Madge  on  a  pinnacle  was  got. 
Sputtering  and  hooting  like  a  sot. 

And  thus  began  the  brawl 
"  D'ye  hear,  you  prince  of  red-fac'd  fools ! 
Hot-headed  poppy !  ibe  to  owls  \ 

Why  this  offoisive  bkize  ? 
Behhid  some  cloud  go  sneak  aside, 
Your  carbuncles  and  rabies  hide. 

And  quench  that  flaming  face. 

"  When  Pm  a  taking  the  fi^sh  air. 
Whip  m  my  eyes  you  come  full  glare. 

And  so  much  rudeness  show  ! 
I  wonder  when  the  modest  Moon 
Would  serve  an  Owl  as  you  have  done, 

Or  tan  and  bura  one  so  \'* 
Bright  Phcebus  smiPd  at  what  was  s%id. 
And  cry»d,  "  Tis  wcU,  sir  Logger-head 

You've  neither  sense  nor  shame  ! 
Because  a  blinkmg  fool  can't  bear 
An  object  ao  transcending  feir. 

The  Sun  must  take  the  blame. 
Shall  I  the  universe  benight. 
And  rob  the  fa^ur^d  world  of  light. 

Because  you  rail  and  scowl ; 
When  birds  of  the  most  abject  sort 
Deride  and  gnu  you  fbr  their  sport. 

And  treat  you  like  an  Owl  ?*> 

TBB   MOBAL. 

Who  libel  senates,  and  traduce  the  great. 
Measure  the  public  good  by  private  hate  : 
Interest 'stheirrale  of  love;  fierce  to  oppose 
All  whom  superior  virtue  makes  their  fbo. 

Thy  merits,  Rochester  «,  thus  give  offence; 
The  guilty  faction  hates  discerning  sense :        [find. 
Thus Harleys, Seymour', Howe  ^  and Mackworth 
Great  eyesores  to  the  loud  rapacious  kind ; 
But,  whilst  ra  holes  addressing  Owls  repine. 
Bright  as  the  Sun  their  patriot  nfines  will  shine. 

FABLE    IX. 

TBB  SEA  AND  TBE  BANKS. 

As  out  at  sea  a  raflUng  gale  it  blew, 
And  clouds  o*ercast  the  gloomy  skies : 
The  surges  they  began  to  rise. 

And  terrify  the  sailors,  jocund  crew. 


>  Laurence  Hyde,  earl  of  Rochester,  was 
lord-lieutenant  of  Ireland.  See  an  account  of 
in  the  Supplement  to  Swift    N, 

«  Afterwards  earl  of  Oxford.    JV. 

5  Charles  Scjnmour,  duke  of  Somerset    N. 

^JohnHowe,  esq;  of  famous  memory.    X 


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FABLES. 


91 


nb  to  the  wantoo  biDows  VM  bat  sport, 

Tbey  roftr^d  and  gambol'd  it  alooig. 

Hub  was  the  burthen  of  their  soQg, 
They'd  have  a  storm,  and  show  good  reaton  Ibr^ 
Then  a  firesb  maggot  takes  them  in  the  head. 

To  have  one  merry  jaunt  on  shore: 

They  'd  not  be  fetter'd^up,  they  swore, 
Bat  thus  to  the  insulted  mar|^  said : 
'*  Hey,  slogs !  d'  ye  hear,  ye  lazy  hotmds ! 

Open  to  right  and  left !  make  way. 

And  give  free  passage  to  the  Sea, 
Down  with  your  ramparts  and  obstructing  moonds. 
"  See  how  they  stir !  awake,  ye  brutes  I 

And  let  us  have  one  frisk  at  land ; 

Or,  'zbud,  we  '11  wash  you  into  sand, 
WHbont  the  tedious  form  of  long  disputes.** 
'*  Hold !  soft  and  fair !  the  Banks  reply'd;  we^ 

In  honour,  to  make  good  our  post:  [bound. 

And  will,  for  all  your  windy  boast. 
As  barriers  to  the  Sea  uiaintain  our  ground. 
"  Go,  kxd  it  in  your  watery  realms,  the  Main ! 

There  rage  and  bluster  as  you  please. 

Licentious  in  your  native  Seas, 
Bat  not  an  inch  as  trespassers  youHl  gain. 
"  So,  my  fierce  mutineers,  be  jogging  home ! 

For  if  yon  dare  invade  our  coast. 

You  'U  run  your  heads  against  a  post, 
And  shamefully  retire  in  empty  foam.** 

THB    MORAL. 

Though  Discord  forms  the  elements  for  war. 
Their  well-pois'd  strength  prevents  the  fatal  jar : 
Haraionious  Nature  sets  the  balance  right. 
And  each  compels  the  other  to  unite. 

In  empire  thus  true  union  is  maintain*d. 
Each  power  's  by  a  subordinate  restrained : 
But  when,  like  raging  waves,  they  overflow 
Their  staled  bounds,  and  on  the  weaker  grow. 
Thrice  happy  realms!  where  there  are  patriots  found, 
Todieck  invaders,  and  maintain  their  ground. 

FABLE    X. 

TBI   NIGHTIKCALB   AUD    CUCKOW. 

Atuhcpul  Kigfatingale,  whose  warbling  throat 

Was  form'd  for  lofty  sOng, 
With  every  sweet  harmonious  note 

He  charmed  the  listening  throng : 
The  hooting  Cuckow  was  displeas  d  akme, 
Coodemn'd  his  manner,  and  extolfd  her  own. 
**  This  screaming  fop,  quoth  she,  that  scares 

All  creatures  with  his  din ; 
When  folks  are  listening  to  my  airs. 

Forsooth  he 's  putting  in. 
Here 's  such  a  chattering  kept,  and  odious  noise, 
My  tang's  quite  ^rd  with  his  confounded  voice." 
The  injured  songster  modestly  rep1y*d ; 

'*  Since  you  perform  so  fine. 
The  contest  let  some  judge  decide, 

And  try  your  skill  with  mine ; 
Ysnqoiib'd,  1  *U  your  superior  genius  own.*' 
The  Cuckow  shook  her  head,  and  cry*d  *twat  done, 
A  iqiemo  ploddmg  Ass  that  graa*d  the  plain 

Was  foe  ai|  umpire  chose : 
The  Nightingale  advanced  his  stram. 

And  chaim'd  with  every  close. 


The  CockflMr*s  note  was  one  mvrary 'd  tone, 
Exeeedmg  hoarse^  yet  pleased,  she  roared  itoik 
Appeal  was  made ;  the  judge  this  KSlcMe  gaive^ 

**  You,  shrah,  Nightin^ak  ! 
Of  music  you  some  smatterings  have. 

And  may  m  time  do  well ; 
But  for  substantia]  song,  I  needs  must  ny. 
My  friend,  the  Cuckow,  bean  the  bell  away  » 

THE  MOaAL. 

Mackworth  >,  who  reads  thy  well-digested  Jimm, 
Where  eloqucpce  with  nervous  reason  Mais, 
Sees  art  and  judgment  flow  through  every  page^ 
The  patriot*s  zeal  free  from  hidecent  rage; 
So  pure  thy  style,  thy  manners  so  iefin*d. 
Your  pen  transmits  the  candour  of  your  mind. 

Yet  happier  he  that  has  the  answer  wrote. 
In  penury  of  sense,  and  dearth  of  thought : 
Whilst  Asses  judge,  and  Faction  claims  a  vole^ 
Abusive  nonsense  is  th'  admired  note : 
Where  want  of  art  and  manners  merit  pnise^ 
He  robs  the  CnckoRRr  of  her  andent  bays. 

FABLE    XL 

THB  SUM  AND  TBB  WIVBu 

Tbb  Sun  and  Wind  one  day  fell  out 
In  matters  they  discoursed  about. 

Old  Boreas,  in  a  rage. 
Called  the  Sun  fool,  and  swore  he  ly*d. 
Spit  in  his  face,  his  power  defy^d. 

And  dar'd  him  to  engage. 
Quoth  he,  "  Yon  goes  a  traveller. 
With  formal  cloak  and  looks  demure, 

The  wbiggish  signs  of  grace : 
Who  fairly  oflf  the  cloak  can  fbroe, 
From  one  so  stiff,  proud,  and  morose. 

Deserves  the  upper  place." 
With  that  the  Wind  began  to  rise. 
Blustered  and  storm*d  it  through  the  skies. 

Making  a  dismal  roar : 
The  non-con  wrapped  his  cloak  about, 
Trudg*d  on,  resoh'd  to  weather  t  out. 

And  see  the  tempest  o^er. 
The  storm  being  spent,  with  piercing  rayi^ 
Full  on  his  shoulders  Phoebus  plays. 

Which  soon  the  zealot  folt ; 
Aside  the  cumberous  cloak  was  thrown, 
Pantmg  and  faint,  he  laid  him  down. 

More  decently  to  melt 

The  Sun  then  ask'd  his  blustering  friend. 
If  ferther  yet  he  durst  contend, 

And  try  some  other  way : 
But,  conscious  of  so  plain  a  truth. 
He  put  his  flnger  in  his  mottth, 

Without  a  word  to  say. 

THB   MOBAL. 

Your  Whigs  dbgrac'd,  like  bullies  of  the  town. 
Libel  and  rail,  the  more  they  're  tumbled  down : 
Superior  merit  still  prevails  at  last. 
The  fury  of  their  fSeeble  storm  is  past 

>  Sir  Humphry  Mackworth,  to  whom  Yalden  ad- 
dressed an  eiicdlent  poetical  epistle  On  the  Mniet 
late  of  Sir  Gubery  Price,  p.  74. — SirHumphry  wiolt 
some  poUtkal  painphletB  about  this  tune,    if. 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


5« 


YALDEN?  POEMS. 


But  when  the  mtte  dbrts  Hb  pieidng  rtyi, 
Factioa  imbnttODi,  and  rebates  Hs  pace : 
The  liypooiilie  cloak  is  tiresome  fbond, 
And  the  ftint  zealot  pants  upon  the  ground. 

FABLE    XIL 

m  SOAR  AND  FOtlfT. 

A  Lxow ,  generous  and  breve. 

For  wars  renown'd,  belov'd  in  peace; 

His  lands  in  royal  bounties  gave. 
And  treasures  much  impaired  by  acts  of  grace. 

His  ministers  wholf  reahns  obtain*d ; 

And  courtiers,  mu<^  inclined  to  want. 

His  manors  begg*d,  and  forfeits  gain'd. 
With  patents  to  confirm  the  royal  grant* 

The  Boar,  to  shew  a  subject's  Iov«» 

Crav*d  for  the  public  good  a  boon. 

His  ancient  forest  to  improve. 
By  felling  trees,  and  cutting  timber  down. 

"  Alcoves  and  shady  walks,  quefeh  he. 

Are  laid  aside,  become  a  jtxk. ; 

Yourvistos  lefty,  wide,  and  free. 
Are  k  la  mode,  and  only  in  request"  ' 

The  grant  being  ^passM,  the  ravenous  Boar, 

A  desert  of  the  forest  made : 

Up  by  the  roots  vast  oaks  he  tore. 
And  low  on  earth  the  princely  cedars  laid. 

This  act  of  violence  and  wrong 

Alamm*d  all  the  savage  race ; 

With  loud  complaints  to  court  they  tinong, 
Siripp^  of  their  shades,  and  ancient  resting-place. 

With  generous  rage  the  lion  shook. 

And  vow>d  the  Boar  should  dearly  pay  ; 

"  I  hate,  quoth  he,  a  down-cast  look. 
That  robs  the  public  in  a  Iriendly  way. 

**  Unhappy  groves,  my  empire's  pride  I 

Ixiiv*d  solitudes,  ye  shades  divine  f 

The  rage  of  tempests  ye  defy'd, 
Condean'd  to  perish  by  a  sordid  swine. 

**  Ye  rural  deitieB,  and  powers  unknown^ 

What  can  so  great  a  loss  suffice ! 

If  a  hung  brawner  will  atone, 
Aooqpt  friead  Ghudcy  for  a  sacrifice.*' 

TBI   MOEAL. 

The  British  oak 's  our  nation's  strength  and  pride, 
WHh  which  triumphant  o^er  the  main  we  ride ; 
Insulting  foes  are  by  our  navies  aw*d, 
A  guard  at  home,  our  dreaded  power  abroad. 

like  druids  then  your  forests  sacred  keep. 
Preserve  with  them  3rour  empire  of  the  dte^ 
Subjects  their  prince's  bounty  oft  abuse. 
And  spoil  the  public  for  their  private  use; 
But  no  rapacious  hand  should  dare  defeoe. 
The  royal  stores  of  a  well-timber>d  chase, 

FABLE    Xm. 

TBS  POZ  AUD  FLIM. 

At  erafty  Reynard  strove  to  swim 
The  torrent  of  a  rapid  stream. 

To  gain  the  ferther  side : 
Before  the  middle  space  was  pastp 
A  whirlmg  eddy  caught  him  n^t, 
'     ^kmn  with  the  tide. 


With  vain  effixts  and  stmgglfa^  tpm^ 
Half  drown'd,  yet  forc'd  to  be  content. 

Poor  Ren  a  soaking  lay; 
HH  some  kind  ebb  should  set  hiim  free, 
Or  chanee  restore  that  liberty 

The  waved  had  took  away. 
A  swarm  of  ha1f-starv*d  haggard  fliei, 
With  fury  seized  the  floating  prize, 

By  raging  hunger  led ; 
With  many  a  curse  and  bitter  groan. 
He  shook  his  sides,  and  wish'd  them  gone» 

Whilst  pleateously  they  ftxL 
A  Hedge-hog  saw  his  evil  plight; 
Touch'd  with  compassion  at  the  sight. 

Quoth  he,  <*  To  show  I  'm  civil, 
I  '11  brush  those  swigging  dogs  eway. 
That  on  thy  bfood  remorseless  prey. 

And  send  them  to  the  Devil." 
"  No,  courteous  sir,  the  Fox  reply'd. 
Let  them  infest  and  gore  my  hide. 

With  their  insatiate  thhvt; 
Since  I  such  fetal  wounds  sustain. 
Twill  jrield  some  pleasure  midst  the  pam> 

To  see  the  blood  hounds  bunt" 

THS   MOtAL;    nOM  HOrraADAMVS. 

Le  sang  du  juste  IkLondresfera  santff 
Brusler  par  feu,  Ate 

Thus  guilty  Britain  to  her  Thames  eonplaiiw, 
"  With  royal  blood  defird,  O  cleanse  my  stains ! 
Whenceplaguesarise!  whence  dire  contagions  come  f 
And  flames  that  my  Augusta's  pride  consume ! " 

*<  In  vain,"  saith  Thames;  «  the  regicidat  breo| 
Will  swarm  again,  by  them  thy  land  shall  bleed : 
Extremest  curse !  but  so  just  Heaven  decreed ! 
Republicans  diall  Britain's  treasures  drain. 
Betray  her  monarch,  and  her  church  prophane! 
Till,  gorg'd  with  spoils,  with  biood  the  leeches  bmlw 
Or  Tyburn  add  the  second  to  the  first" 

FABLE  XIV. 

TBE   BlAa  AND  MOmrrXBAIfK. 

Treks  liv'd  a  quack  in  high  repute. 
By  virtue  of  a  velvet  suit. 

And  celebrated  bill ; 
As  for  his  knowledge,  *tis  allow>d, 
He  had  enough  to  cheat  the  crowd. 

And  that 's  good  modem  skilL 
Once  as  this  orator  hdd  forth 
On  topics  of  his  medicines'  worth. 

And  wondrous  cures  they  wrought; 
Though  not  a  word  they  understood. 
His  eloquence  so  charm'd  the  crowd. 

That  still  they  gap'd  and  bought, 
Midst  bis  harangue,  one  day  it  chanced, 
Tom  Dove  «  the  Bear  that  way  advanc'd. 

In  procession  to  his  stake; 
The  rabble  quit  their  doctor  straight. 
And  with  huzzas  on  Bruin  wait. 

Who  thus  the  chief  bespake: 
"  D*  ye  hear,  ye  pack  of  bawling  fonts, 
Oompos'd  of  vermin,  stink,  and  clouts, 

Why  all  this  noise  and  do } 
Though  through  my  nose  a  ring  is  got. 
And  here  I  'm  baited  like  a  sot. 

Still  I  resemble  you. 

1  TomDofehubeencelebratedbyDiydeoaiidKiiv. 


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FABLES. 


98 


*  Olwcrve  tiiat  Moantebaiikiiig  <bol> 
P^erchM  yonder  on  his  tbree-l^g^d  stool, 

WHh  poisonoiis  drugs  to  sell ; 
See  o^erhis  shoulder  how  he  sneert. 
Three  hours  to  lug  you  by  the  ears, 

Yet  pleases  wondrous  i^U. 
^  With  fulsome  lyes  and  stupid  stnfl^ 
He  cheats  and  banters  you  enough. 

Yet  there  ye  flock  by  shoals ; 
Bui  if  by  chance  a  bear 's  brought  out; 
At  him  ye  hollow,  laugh,  and  shout. 

And  who 's  the  greater  fools  } 
**  So,  brother  monsters,  foce  about. 
The  quack,  your  keeper,  wants  his  rout; 

For,  underneath  the  rose. 
Another  sort  of  brutes  there  are, 
Beaidesa  stupid  Russian  bean 
That 's  misled  by  the  nose.** 

THE  MOftAL. 

HI  mhnsters,  like  quacks,  the  crowd  deceive, 
Defimud  them  for  their  good ;  and  they  believe : 
At  France  md  Rome  th^  rail  with  qpecious  arts, 
And,  whilst  they  cheat  the  vulgar,  gain  their  hearts. 

But  if  sagacious  Bruin  smellt  them  out. 
Their  frauds  exposing  to  the  injured  rout ; 
To  mischief  prone,  implacable,  and  strong. 
Ten  thousand  tongues  and  hands  revenge  the  wrong. 

FABLE  XT. 

TflS   PEACOCK  nOCLAlMBD  KlRU. 

A  VoLTums,  old  and  ledile  grown. 
Took  up  and  much reformM  his  life; 
His  beak  decay'd,  and  talons  gone. 
Yet  still  he  relish'd  noise  and  strife : 
Once  a  young  Peacodi  to  the  birds  brought  forth, 
On  his  high  Inrth  harangued,  and  bloommg  worth. 
**  Ihe  isles  and  watery  realm,"  said  he, 
"  This  hopeful  monaroh  shall  command ! 
His  sceptreto  depend pn  me. 
And  rule  the  tributary  land ; 
Rcservmg  only  for  our  royal  use, 
Whate'er  the  seas  and  fertile  coasts  produce.** 

The  Peacock,  a  pert  dapper  spark. 
Made  the  sagacious  Vulture's  choice ; 
His  title  and  descent,  though  dark, 
Sbon  gaiaM  the  whde  assembly's  voice. 
The  Pyc  except,  a  member  of  the  board. 
Who,  midst  their  acclamations,  crav'd  a  word. 
**  His  highness*  merits  and  desert," 
Quoth  he,  <'  tis  needless  to  dispute! 
In  giving  empires  we  'ro  too  pert. 
With  nether  right  nor  power  to  do 't; 
Ten  've  made  a  Peacock  king:  pray  now  His  done. 
What  champioii  hero  conducts  him  to  his  throne, 
*'  Where  Uie  Imperial  Eagle  reigns, 
Renown'd  for  arms  and  wiurlike  might. 
Who  such  a  fireble  youth  disdains, 
And  Tnhorei  dares  ei^age hi  fight? 


Therefore,  messieurs,  it  is  my  private  voice. 
That  the  possessor  first  approve  our  choice." 

THE  MORAL. 

Caesar,  that  prinoe  betra3rs  his  fears^ 
Who  styles  thee  monaroh  in  the  field. 
But,  when  thy  army  disappears, 
To  weak  pretenders  will  thy  titles  yield* 

But  wiser  politicians  say. 
True  conduct  is  not  so  much  showiv 
In  giving  others*  realms  away. 
As  in  ddfending  well  their  own. 

FABLE  XVL 

A   LACONIC  COMDEMMB*. 

A  8A0B  Laconic,  truly  wise. 
Whose  conversation  was  concise, 

Train'd  up  in  rigid  schools ; 
Once,  when  a  single  word  would  do^ 
Had  lavishly  made  use  of  two. 

In  high  contempt  of  rules. 

A  bill  against  him  was  preferT*d, 
The  charge  by  evidence  averr*d. 

That  fully  prov*d  the  feet: 
The  judges  aggravate  the  crime. 
In  words  as  few,  and  little  time. 

As  answer'd  men  compact. 
Quoth  one,  "  The  being  too  verbose 
A  misdemeanor  is  so  gross. 
Of  that  pernicious  kind ! 
The  punishment  must  reach  your  sense^ 
And  reason  smart  for  this  offence. 

By  torturing  your  mind. 
"  Read  Jura  Populi  o*cr  twice, 
Pittis  and  Bunyan,  books  of  price, 

koA.  Oat8*8  modest  vein  : 
Read  Baxter's  volumes,  TindaVs  works, 
Yorkshire  Petish  with  that  of  Bucks, 

True  cant  and  libel  strain, 
**  For  solid  nonsense,  thoughtless  word^ 
llie  Vindication  of  the  Lords, 

That  answers  Mackworth's  State : 
Read  first  ai^  secoud  paragraph, 
If  posrible  drudge  on  through  half, 

Your  crime  you  *11  expiate." 
The  wretch  with  strong  convulsions  shook^ 
Despair  and  anguish  in  his  look. 
To  Heaven  fir  mercy  cry*d : 
Quoth  he,  ««  Send  gibbets,  racks,  or  wheal, 
Algiers  and  gallies  please  me  wdl. 

Such  torments  I  *11  abide. 
«  But  damn  me  not  for  one  ofilenoe. 
To  volumes  unally'd  to  sense. 
Vainly  to  waste  my  breath : 
That  answer  to  the  Commons*  Rights 
With  labour*d  dulhiess  so  affrights. 
The  thoughts  are  worse  than  death,* 


ur  Of  TiuaQra  POEMS. 


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Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE 


POEMS 


THOMAS  TICKELL. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE 

LIFE  OF  TICKELL. 

BY  DR.  JOHNSON. 


1  HOMAS  nCKELU  the  son  of  the  reveraid  Richard  Tickell,  was  bora  io  l586 
at  Bridekirk  in  Cumberland ;  and  in  April  1701  became  a  member  of  Queen's  Col- 
lege in  Oxford;  in  17O8  he  was  made  master  of  arts.;  and,  two  years  afterwards,  was 
chosen  fellow ;  for  which,  as  he  did  not  comply  with  the  statutes  by  taking  orders,  he 
obtained  a  dispensation  from  the  crown.  He  held  his  fellowship  till  1726,  and  then 
vacated  it,  by  marrymg,  in  that  year,  at  Dublin. 

Tickell  was  not  one  of  those  scholars  who  wear  away  their  lives  in  closets ;  he  entered 
early  into  the  world,  and  was  long  busy  in  public  affairs ;  in  which  he  was  initiated 
under  the  patronage  of  Addison,  whose  notice  he  is  said  to  have  gained  by  his  verset 
in  praise  of  Rosamond. 

To  those  verses  it  would  not  have  been  just  to  deny  regard ;  for  they  contain  some 
of  the  moat  elegant  encomiastic  strams;  and,  among  the  innumerable  poems  of  the 
same  kind,  it  will  be  hard  to  find  one  with  which  they  need  to  fear  a  comparison. 
It  way  deserve  observation,  that  when  Pq>e  wrote  long  afterwards  in  praise  of  Addi- 
SCO,  be  has  coined,  at  least  has  resembled,  TickelL 

Let  joy  Mhite  fiur  Rotunooda'S  shade. 
And  wreathf  of  myrtk  crown  tbe  lovely  maid. 
While  DOW  perhaps  wHh  IMdo*i  ghost  she  lores, 
And  bean  and  tdb  the  story  of  their  lores. 
Alike  they  moam,  alike  they  bless  their  fate,  i 

Since  Lore,  which  made  them  wretched,  makes  them  great 
Nor  longer  that  relentless  doom  bemoan. 
Which  gamM  a  Viigil  and  an  Addison. 

TICSSLU 

Then  fntme  ages  with  deHgfat  shall  sea 
Hofw  Plato's,  Bacon%  Newton's  looks  agrse  ; 
Or  m  fiur  series  laurel'd  bards  be  diown, 
A  Virgil  there,  and  here  an  Addison. 

pon; 
Re  produced  another  piece  of  the  same  land  at  the  qipearance  of  Cato,  with  equal 
lUl,  but  not  equal  happiness. 

When  the  mmisters  of  queen  Anne  were  negotiating  with  France,  TSckdl  published 
The  Prospect  of  Peace,  a  poem,  of  which  the  tendency  was  to  redaha  the  nation  from 
the  pride  <tfcoiiqacst  io  tiie  plemrei  of  tranquOlity.     How  &r  TickeD^  whom  Swift 
VOL.  XL  H 


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98  LIFE  OF  nCKELL. 

afterwards  mentioiHed  as  Whiggissimus,  had  then  connected  himself  with  any  party,  I 
know  not ;  this  poem  certainly  did  not  flatter  tfie  practices,  or  promote  the  opinioiis,  of 
the  men  by  whom  he  was  afterwards  befriended. 

Mr.  Addison,  howeiter  he  hated  the  men  then  in  power,  suffered  hb  friendshq>  to 
prevail  over  his  public  spirit,  and  gave  in  the  Spectator  such  praises  o(  Tickell*s  poem* 
that  when,  after  having,  long  wished  to  peruse  it,  I  laid  hxM  on  it  at  kst,  I  thoi^t  it 
unequal  to  the  honours  which  it  had  received,  and  found  it  a  piece  to  be  approved 
rather  than  admired.  But  the  hope  excked  by  a  work  of  genius,  being  general  and 
indefinite,  is  rarely  gratified.  It  was  read  at  that  time  with  so  much  favour,  that  six 
editions  were  sold. 

At  the  arrival  of  king  George  he  sung  The  Royal  Progress;  which, being  inserted  in 
Ihe  Spectator,  is  well  known;  andofwhichitisjusttosay,  that  it  b  neither  high  nor  lonu 

The  poetical  incident  of  most  importance  in  Tickell's  life  was  his  publication  of  the 
first  book  of  the  Iliad,  as  translated  by  himself,  an  apparent  opposition  to  Pope's  Homer^ 
of  which  the  first  part  made  its  entrance  into  the  world  at  the  same  time. 

Addison  declared  that  the  rival  versbns  were  both  good ;  but  that  TickeH's  wai  Ih^ 
)>est  that  ever  was  made ;  and  with  Addison,  the  wits,  his  adherents  and  followers,  were 
certain  to  concur.  Pope  does  not  q)pear  to  have  l>een  much  dismayed ;  ''  for,"  says  he, 
«« I  have  the  town,  that  is,  the  mob  on  my  side."  But  he  remarks,  "  that  it  is  common 
for  the  smaller  party  to  make  up  b  diligence  what  they  want  in  numbers;  he  appjda 
to  the  people  as  his  proper  judges;  and,  if  they  are  not  inclined  to  condemn  faim,  Ik  m 
m  little  care  about  the  high-flyers  at  Button^s." 

Pope  did  not  long  think  Addison  an  impartial  judge ;  for  he  considered  him  as  the 
writer  of  Tickell's  version.  The  reasons  for  his  su^icion  I  will  Kterally  transcribe 'fitnn 
Mr.  Spence's  Collection. 

**  There  -had  been  a  coldness  (said  Mr.  Pope)  between  Mr.  Addison  and  me  for  some 
time;  and  we  had  not  been  in  company  together,  for  a* good  while,  any  where  but  at 
Button's  cofl^house,  where  I  used  to  see  him  almost  every  day. — On  his  meeting  me 
there,  one  day  in  particular,  he  took  me«ide,  and  said  he  should  be  glad  to  dine  with 
me,  at  such  a  tavern,  if  I  staid  tiH  thosepeople  were  gone  ^udgell  and  Philips).  We 
went  accordingly ;  and  after  dinner  Mr.  Addison  said,  '  That  he  had  wanted  for  some  time 
to  tdSk  with  me ;  that  his  friend  Tickell  had  formeriy,  whilst  at  Oxford,  transUted  the 
first  book  of  the  Iliad-;  that  he  designed  to  prmt  it,  and  had  desired  him  to  look  it  over ; 
that  he  must  therefore  beg  that  I  would  not  desire  him  to  look  over  my  first  book, 
because,  if  he  did,  it  would  thvpe  the  air  of  double-dealing.'  I  assured  him,  that  I 
did  not  at  all  take  it  ill  of  Mr.  Tickdl  that  he  was  geing  to  publish  his  translation ; 
that  he  certainly  had  as  much  right  to  translate  any  author  as  myself;  and  that  pub* 
lishing  both  was  entering  on  a  fair  stage.  I  then  added,  that  I  would  not  desire  him  to 
look  over  my  first  book  of  the  Iliad,  because  he  had  looked  over  Mr.  Tickell's;  but  could 
wish  to  have  the  benefit  <tf  his  observations  on  the  aeoond,  which  I  had  then  finished, 
and  which  Mr.  Tickell  had  not  touched  upon.  Accordingly  I  sent  him  the  feeond 
book  the  iie&t  mbmiiig;  and  Mr.  AddiMn  a  few  days  after  relumed  it,  with  very  h^ 
commendiitiens.  Soon  after  it  was  ncneMily  knownthat  Mr.  Tickell  waspublishing  the 
^first  book  of  ^  Iliad,  I  met  Dr.  Yow^m  the  street;  and  upon  our  fidKoig  mto  that 
subject*  the  Doctor  expressed  a  great  deal  of  suiprize  at  TickeU's  having  had  suiak  a  trans- 


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LIFE  OF  TICKELL^  99 

htkm  M  long  by  him.  He  8»d,  thai  it  was  inconceivable  to  him,  and  that  there  must  ^ 
be  MMne  mistake  in  the  matter;  that  each  used  to  communicate  to  the  otiier  whatever 
vetoes  they  wrote,  even  to  the  least  things ;  that  Hd^ell  could  not  have  been  busied  in 
80  long  a  work  there  without  his  knowing  somethmg  of  the  matter ;  and  that  he  bad* 
never  beard  a  single  word  of  it  till  on  this  occasion.  The  surprise  of  Dr.  Young,  together 
with  what  Steele  has  said  against  Tickell  in  relation  to  this  afiair,  make  it  highly  proba- 
ble that  tiiete  was  some  underhand  dealing  in  that  business ;  and  indeed  Tickell  him- 
•d(  who  is  a  very  fair  worthy  man,  has  since,  in  a  manner  as  good  as  owned  it  to  me. 
When  it  was  introduced  into  a  conversation  between  Mr.  Tickell  and  Mr.  Pope,  by  a 
third  person,  Tickell  did  not  deny  it;  which,  considering  hb  honour  and  zeal  for  his 
departed  friend,  was  the  same  as  owning  it'' 

Upon  these  suspicions,  with  which  Dr.  Warburton  hints  that  other  drcumstancescon« 
cured.  Pope  ahvays  in  his  Art  of  Sinkmg  quotes  this  book  as  the  work  of  Addison. 

To  compare  the  two  translations  would  be  tedious ;  the  palm  is  now  given  universally 
to  Pope ;  but  I  think  the  first  lines  of  Tickell's  were  rather  to  be  preferred;  and  Pope  ' 
teems  to  have  smce  borrowed  something  from  them  in  the  correction  of  his  own. 

When  the  Hanover  succession  was  disputed,  Tickell  gave  what  assistance  hb  pen 
would  supply.  His  Letter  to  Avignon  stands  high  among  party-poems ;  it  expresses 
contempt  without  coarseness,  and  superiority  without  insolence.  It  had  the  success 
wfakh  it  deserved,  Jbeing  five  times  printed. 

He  was  now  inthnately  united  to  Mr.  Addison,  who,  when  he  went  into  Ireland  as 
secretary  to  the  lord  Sunderland,  took  him  thither  and  employed  him  m  public  busi* 
Dcas;  and  when  (1717)  afterwards  he  rose  to  be  secretary  of  state,  made  him  under- 
secretary.  Their  friendship  seems  to  have  continued  without  abatement;  for,  when 
Addison  died,  he  left  him  the  charge  of  publishing  his  works,  with  a  solemn  recom- 
meodatioa  to  the  patronage  of  Craggs. 

To  these  works  he  prefixed  an  elegy  on  the  author,  which  could  owe  none  of  its 
beauties  to  Uie  assistance  which  might  be  suspected  to  have  strengthened  or  embellished 
bis  earlier  coiiqM>sitioiis ;  but  neither  he  nor  Addison  ever  produced  nobler  lines  than 
are  contained  m  the  thurd  and  fourth  paragraphs ;  nor  is  a  more  sublime  or  more  elegant 
frmeral-poem  to  be  found  in  the  whole  compass  of  English  literature. 

He  vfas  afterwards  (about  1725)  made  secretary  to  the  Lords  Justices  of  Ireland,  a 
place  of  great  honour;  in  which  he  continued  till  1740,  when  he.  died  on  the  twenty 
tfairdofApriiatBath. 

Of  the  poems  yet  unmentioned  the  longest  is  Kensington  Gardens,  of  which  the  ver- 
sificatioD  is  smooth  and  elegant,  but  the  fiction  unskilfully  conqpounded  of  Grecian  dei- 
ties and  Gothk  fairies.  Neither  species  of  those  exploded  beings  could  have  done 
much ;  and,  when  they  are  brought  together,  they  only  make  each  other  contemptible. 
To  Tickdl,  however,  cannot  be  refiised  a  high  place  among  the  minor  poets ;  nor  should 
it  lie  forgotten  that  be  was  one  of  the  contributors  to  the  Spectator.  With  req)ect  to 
Us  personal  character,  he  is  said  to  have  been  a  man  of  gay  conversation,  at  least  a  tem« 
petite  lover  of  wine  and  company,  and  in  his  domestic  relations  without  censure 


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POEMS 


OF 


THOMAS  TICKELL. 


oa 
SVEEir  CAROLINE'S 

ftnVIL1>tlN»  TBB    LODOIMOS    OP    TBB  BLACK  PBUfCB, 
AKD  BBUBT  ▼.   AT  aVUIt't- COLLBOB,  OZrOBD. 

nmERE  bold  «nd  gnoefbl  tonB,  Mcore  of  fiime, 
^^   The  pile,  DOir  worthy  great  Pliilipp«*i  name, 
Marie  that  old  rain,  gothic  and  imoouth. 
Where  the  Black  Edward  paM'd  his  beaidlen  yooth ; 
And  the  Fifth  Henrf,  for  hia  flnt  renown, 
Oat«tiippVi  each  rival  in  aftodent's  gown. 

In  th^  ooane  age  were  prinoet  food  to  dwell 
With  meagre  moi^  and  haunt  the  silent  cell : 
SmA  from  the  monarch's  to  the  Moseys  ooort, 
Tbdrmealswerefrngal,  and  their  sleeps  were  short; 
To  coach  at  cmlfea-tiroe  they  thoagfat  no  scorn. 
And  fipoae  at  matins  etery  wmterHnom  $ 
They  read,  an  early  book,  the  starry  frame. 
And  htf^d  each  constellation  by  its  name ; 
Art  alter  art  still  dawning  to  their  yiew. 
And  their  mind  opening  as  their  statnre  grew. 

Yet,  whose  ripe  manhood  spread  our  fiune  so  ftu", 
fisgea  in  peace,  and  demi-gods  in  war  ! 
Wbo,  stem  in  fight,  made  echoing  Cress!  ring. 
And,  mild  in  conquest,  sert'd  his  captive  king ! 
Who  gain'd,  at  Agincoort,  the  victor's  bays  $ 
Kor  took  himself,  but  gave  good  Heaven,  the  praise! 
Tby  nurselings,  ancient  dome !  to  virtue  form*d ; 
To  merey  listening,  whilst  in  fields  they  storm'd : 
fierce  to  the  fierce;  and  warm  th'opprest  to  save; 
Through  life  rever*d,  and  worshipM  in  the  grave ! 

In  tenfoU  pride  the  mouldering  roofs  shall  shine. 
The  stately  work  of  bounteous  Caroline ; 
And  blest  Philippa,  with  unenvious  eyes. 
From  Heaven  b^oU  her  rivaPs  £ibric  rise. 
If  still,  bright  satot,  this  spot  deserves  thy  cate^ 
Incfine  thee  to  th*  ambitious  Muse*s  prayer: 
0,  oould'st  tbaa  win  young  William*8  bloom  to  grace 
pis  mother's  walls,  and  fill  thy  Edward's  place. 
How  would  that  genius,  whose  propitious  wings 
Have  here  twioe  hover'd  o'er  the  sons  of  khigs, 
Dtac0od  triumphant  to  bis  ancient  sei^ 
'M4  take  m  ofaMge  a  third  Pkntagenet ! 


TO  TUB  IVPPOSBD 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  SPECTATOR. 

Ik  courts  licentious,  and  a  shaiheless  stage. 
How  long  the  war  shall  wit  with  virtue  wage  ? 
F^nohanted  by  this  prostituted  &ir,  , 

Our  jrouth  run  headlong  in  the  fiiUl  snare; 
In  hdght  of  rapture  clasp  unheeded  puns. 
And  suck  pollution  through  their  tingling  veins? 

Thy  spotless  thoughts  unshock'd  the  priest  may 
And  ikd  pure  vestal  in  her  bosom  wear.         [hear; 
To  conscious  blushes  and  diminished  pride. 
Thy  glass  betrajrs  what  treacherous  love  would  hide  ; 
Nor  harsh  thy  precepts,  but  infused  by  stealth, 
Pleas'd  while  they  cure,  and  cheat  us  into  health. 
Thy  works  in  Chioe*s  toilet  gam  a  part. 
And  with  his  tailor  share  the  fupling's  heart : 
Lash'd  in  thy  satire,  the  penurious  cit 
Laughs  at  himself,  and  finds  no  harm  in  wit : 
From  felon  gamesters  the  raw  squire  is  free. 
And  Britain  owes  her  rescued  oaks  to  thee. 
His  miss  the  frolic  viscount,dreads  to  toast. 
Or  his  thud  cure  the  shallow  Templar  boast ; 
And  the  ra^h  fool,  who  scorn'd  the  beaten  road. 
Dares  quake  at  thunder,  and  confess  his  God.     ' 

The  brainless  stripling,  who,  expell'd  the  town^ 
Damn'd  the  stiff  college  and  pedantic  gowiS, 
Aw*d  by  thy  name,  is  dumb,  and  thrice  a  week 
Spells  uncouth  Latin,  and  pretends  to  Greek. 
A  sauntering  tribe  !  such,  bom  to  wide  estates^ 
With  yea  and  no  m  senates  hold  debates : 
At  length  despis'd  each  to  his  fields  retires. 
First  with  the  dogs,  and  kmg  amidst  the  squires; 
From  pert  to  stupid,  sinks  supinely  down. 
In  jrouth  a  coifiomb,  and  in  age  a  clown. 

Sudi  readers  scorn'd,  thou  wing'st  thy  daring 
flight, 
Above  the  stars,  and  tread'st  the  fields  of  light; 
Fame,  Heaven  and  Hell,  are  thy  exalted  theme. 
And  visions  such  as  Jove  himse^  might  dream  ; 
Man  Bunk  to  slavery,  though  to  gloi^  born, 
Heaven*8  pride  when  upright,  and  deprav'd  his  i 

Si^ch  hints  alone  could  British  Virgil  lend, 
And  tlMH)  atone  doerve  from  such  a  friend| 


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TICKELL'S  POEMS. 


A  debt  so  borrowed  is  illtutriout  sluAie, 
And  fame  when  shared  with  him  is  double  fiune. 
So,  flashed  witli  sweets  by  Beaaty's  queen  bestow'd, 
With  more  than  mortal  charms  £neas  glow'd : 
Such  generous  strifes  Eugene  and  Marlborough  try, 
And  as  in  glory,  so  in  friendship  vie. 

Permit  these  lines  by  thee  to  live — ^nor  blam« 
A  Muse  that  pants  and  languishes  for  famt ; 
That  fears  to  siik  when  humbler  themes  she  singi. 
Lost  in  the  mass  of  mean  forgotten  things : 
Received  by  thee,  I  pn^hesy,  my  rhyman. 
The  praise  of  virgins  in  succeeding  tones : 
Mix*d  with  thy  works,  their  life  no  bounds  shall  see. 
But  stand  protected,  as  inspnr'd,  by  thee. 

I  So  some  weak  shoot,  which  else  would  peorly  liaB) 
Jove's  tree  adopts,  aiyi  Uftdhim  to  ^e  skies  j 
Through  the  new  pupil  fostering  juices  flow. 
Thrust  forth  the  gems,  and  give  the  flowers  to  blow 
Aloft ;  iomioital  reigns  the  plant  unknown. 
With  borrow'd  life,  and  vigour  not  bis  own. 


A  POEM, 


TO   HIS  EXCELLBNCT  THE   LOBD  P11IVT-8£AL, 

ON  THE  PROSPECT  OF  PEACE. 

....  Sacerdos 
.    l^nde  super  mitram,  &  felicl  comptus  oliva. 

Virg. 
TO  THE  LORD  PRIVY  SEAL. 

CoNTEKDiNc  kiugs,  and  fields  of  death,  too  long 
flave  been  the  subject  of  the  British  song. 
Who  hath  not  read  of  famM  Ramillia's  plain, 
Bavaria's  fall,  and  Danube  choak'd  with  slain ! 
Exhausted  themes !  a  gentler  note  I  raise^ 
And  sing  returning  peace  in  softer  lays. 
Their  fury  quellM,  and  martial  rage  allayM^ 
I  wait  our  heroes  in  the  sylvan  shade : 
Disbanding  hosts  are  imag'd  to  my  mind. 
And  warring  powent  in  friendly  leagues  combin'd» 
While  ease  and  pleasure  make  the  nations  smile. 
And  Heaven  and  Anna  bless  Britannia's  isle. 

Well  sends  our  quecu  her  mitred  Bristol  forth. 
For  ea'ly  counsels  fam'd,  and  long-tryM  worth; 
Who,  thirty  roirmg  years,  had  oft  withheld 
The  Swede  and  Saxon  from  the  dusty  field ; 
Completely  form'd  to  heal  the  Christian  wounds. 
To  nam^  the  kings,  and  give  eaeh  kingdom  bounds  | 
The  fiice  of  ravaged  Nature  to  repair. 
By  leagues  to  soften  Earth,  and  Heaven  by  prayer. 
To  gain  by  love,  where  rage  and  slaughter  fiul. 
And  make  the  crosier  o'er  the  sword  prevail. 

So  when  g^at  Moses,  with  Jehovah's  wand. 
Had  scatter*d  plagues  o'er  stubborn  Pharaoh's  land. 
Now  spread  an  host  of  locusts  round  the  shore. 
Now  turned  Nile's  fattening  stieams  to  putrid  gore  ; 
Plenty  and  gladness  mark'd  the  priest  of  God, 
Ahd  sudden  ahnonds  shot  fVom  Aaron's  rod. 

O  thou,  fipom  whom  these  bounteous  blessings  flow. 
To  whom,  as  chief,  the  hopes  of  peace  we  Owe, 
(For  next  to  thee,  the  man  whom  kines  contend 
To  style  companion,  and  to  make  their  fiiend^ 
Great  Strafford,  rich  in  every  courtly  gr^e. 
With  joyful  pride  accepts  the  second  place) 
From  Britain's  isle,  and  Isis'  sacred  sprisg, 
One  hour,  oh  \  fi^tcnx^lule  the  Muies  sing.' 


Thoil^  mhiistart  of  mighty  monaidif  wwktp 
With  beating  hearts  to  learn  their  masters'  hte. 
One  hour  forbear  to  speak  thy  {{ueen's  oommawfa. 
Nor  think  the  world,  thy  charge,  neglected  stands ; 
The  Uissful  prospects,  in  my  verse  dwpiay'd 
May  lure  the  stubborn,  the  deceived  persuade: 
£v*ft  thou  to  peace  shalt  speedier  urge  the  way> 
And  mtae  he  hastened  by  this  aboit  delay. 

ON  THE  PROSPECT  OF  PEACE, 

THE  haughty  Oaul,  in  ten  campaigns  o'eithioini. 
Now  ceas'd  to  think  the  western  world  his  own. 
Oft  had  he  moum'd  his  boasting  leaders  bound. 
And  his  proud  buhraiks  smoking  on  the  ground  : 
In  vam  with  powirt  renew'd  he  fili'd  the  plain. 
Made  timorous  vows,  and  brib'd  the' saints  in  vain  | 
As  oft  his  legions  did  the  fight  decline, 
Lurk'd  in  the  trench,  and  skulk'd  behind  the  line. 
Before  his  eyes  the  fancied  javelin  gleams. 
At  feasts  be  starts,  and  seems  dethroned  in  dresmasi 
On  glory  past  reflects  with  secret  p^ 
On  mmes  exhausted,  and  on  milliotis  slain. 

To  Britain's  qneen  the  sccpter'd  suppliant  beodi. 
To  her  his  crowns  and  iAfiInt  raoe  commends. 
Who  grieves  her  lame  with  Christian  Wood  to  bay. 
Nor  asks  for  glory  at  a  price  so  high. 
At  her  deeree,  the  war  saspeoded  studs, 
And  Britain's  heroes  bold  their  lifted  bands. 
Their  open  brows  no  threatening  fro^vns  disguisa^ 
But  gentlef  passions  ^arkle  in  tlieif  eyes. 
The  Gauls,  who  never  in  their  ooorts  ooukl  ftaX 
Such  tempered  fire  with  manly  beauty  join'd, 
Ikmbt  if  they  *!«  those,  wham,  dreadful  ta  the  view; 
In  forms  so  fieroe  then- fearfUlaBeaes  drew  I  • 
At  whose  dire  names  ten  tbotnand  widows  parest 
Their  helpless  orphans  dinfii^  to  t^  bieait 
In  silflot  rspCiue  eaeh  his  foe  surreys ; 
They  vow  firm  firimdship,  and  give  mutual  praise^ 
Brave  minds,  howe'er  at  war,  are  secret  friends; 
Their  generous  discord  with  the  battle  ends; 
In  peace  they  wooder  whence  dissensioa  rose. 
And  ask  how  soub  so  like  oooid  e'er  be  foes. 

Methinhs  I  hear  mors  friendly  shouts  reboond^ 
And  social  clarions  mfac  their  sprightly  sonad. 
Tho  British  flags  are  fVnrI'd,  her  troops  disband. 
And  scatter>dan&ier  seek  their  native  land. 
The  hardy  veteran,  jwoud  of  many  a  scar. 
The  manly  channs  and  hoooors  of  the  war. 
Who  hop*d  to  share  his  fiiends'  iUnstriotls  doem« 
And  in  the  battle  find  asohlier's  tomb, 
leans  on  his  spear  to  take  his  &reweU  vi«w, 
«And,  sighing,  bids  the  glorious  camp  adieu. 

Ye  generous  fair,  receive  the  brave  witlMRiaas^ 
0*eipay  their  sleeplew  nights,  and  croWn  their  toila  ; 
Soft  beauty  is  the  gallant  soMier's  due. 
For  you  they  ooaquer,  and  they  bleed  for  you. 
In  vain  proud  Gaul  with  boastihl  Spain  con^iiie% 
When  English  vakwr  English  beaaty  fires  ; 
The  nations  dread  your  eyes,  and  kmgB  despair 
Of  cbiefe  so  brave,  till  they  have  nymph*  so&ir. 

See  the  food  wt^s  in  tears  of  transport  drown'd^ 
Hugs  her  roughlord,  and  weeps  o'er  evtsry  woun4«. 
Hangs  (m  the  lips  that  fields  of  blood  rekte. 
And  smiles,  or  trembles,  at  his  various  fefcs* 
Near  the  full  bowl  he  draws  the  faney'd  Hne, 
And  marks  feign'd  treBcheala  the  flowing  win. 
Then  sets  tit  inmted Jixt  beface  kts  eyesy 
And  mines^  that  whirl'd  battalions  to  the  skies : 


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ON  THE  PROSPECF  OP  PEACE. 


va 


nifuttitf  nstfiDmif  prognly  turn  piilo^ 
Aui  beg  again  to  hear  the  dreadftil  tale. 

Sudi  dire  achievements  migB  the  bard,  that  tellt 
Of  pa]ft«7'd  dam^,  bold  knig^,  and  magic  apells. 
Where  whole  brigades  onc^  cfaampioii*t  arms  o'er- 

tbrov. 
And  cleare  a  giant  at  a  random  blow. 
Say  paymms  vile,  that  force  the  fair,  and  tame 
The  goblin's  fury,  and  the  dragon^  fhime. 

Oar  eager  youth  to  distant,  nations  run^ 
To  visit  fiekis,  their  valiant  fttbers  won ; 
P^om  Raiidria's  shore  their  comitry's  fiune  theytnee« 
TOl  hr  Oermania  shows  her  blasted  hce. 
Th' exalting- Briton  asks  his  mourafVil  goide^ 
Where  his  hard  fate  the  lost  Bavaria  try'd : 
Where  Stepney  graved  the  stone  to  Anna's  fame. 
Ho  points  to  Blenheim,  once  a  vulgar  name ; 
Here  fled  the  Hooseholdj  there  di<l  Tallard  yield, 
Here  Marlboroagh  tum'd  the  fortune  of  the  field. 
On  those  steep  banks,  near  Dauobe's  raging  flood : 
The  Qanis  thrice  started  back,  and  trembli^  stood : 
When,  Chorchill's  arm  perceived,  they  stood  not  long. 
But  plung'd  amidst  the  waves,  a  desperate  ^rong, 
Ckowds  whelm'd  on  crowds  dash*d  widie  the  watery- 
Anddrove  the  current  to  its  distant  head.        [bed. 

As,  when  by  Raphael's,  or  byKneller's  hands 
A  warlike  courser  on  the  canvas  stands, 
Soeh  as  on  Landen  bleeding  Oimond  bore. 
Or  set  young  Ammon  on  the  Granic  shore ; 
If  chance  a  generous  steed  the  work  behold. 
He  snorts,  be  neighs,  he  chumps  the  foamy  gokl : 
So,  Hocstet  seen^  tumultuous  passions  roll. 
And  hints  of  glory  fire  the  Briton^s  soul. 
Id  finicy'd  fights  he  sees  the  troops  engage. 
And  all  the  tempest  of  the  battle  rage. 

Charm  nie,y  e  powers,  with  scenes  less  nobly  bright, 
Far  humbler  tiionghts  th*  inglorious  Muse  delist. 
Content  to  see  the  honours  of  the  field 
By  plough-shares  levell'd,  or  in  flowen  conceal'd. 
O'er  sbatter'd  walls  may  creefung  ivy  twme. 
And  grass^uzuriant  clothe  the  hamuess  mine. 
Tune  flocks  ascend  the  breach  without  a  wound, 
Orcrop  the  bastion,  now  a  fruitful  ground; 
While  shepherds  sleep,  along  the  rampard  laid. 
Or  pipe  beneatir  the  formidable  shade. 

Who  was  the  man  ?  Oblivioo  Mast  hlsname. 
Torn  out,  and  blotted  from  the  list  of  Fame  ! 
Who,  food  of  lawless  rule,  and  proudly  brave, 
Knt  sunk  the  filial  suligect  to  a  slave, 
His  neighbour's  realms  by  firauds  hnkingly  gahi'd. 
In  guiltless  blood  the  sacred  ermine  stain'd, 
laid  schemes  for  death,  to  slaughter  tum'd  his  heart, 
And  fitted  mnrder  to  the  rules  of  art 

Ah !  curst  Ambition,  to  thy  lures  we  owe 
All  the  great  ilb,  that  mortals  bear  below. 
Cant  by  the  hind,  when  to  the  spoil  he  yields 
Hit  year's  whole  sweat,  and  vainly  ripen'd  fields; 
Corst  by  the  maid,  torn  from  her  lover's  side,   < 
When  left  a  widow,  though  not  yet  a  bride; 
By  mothers  curst,  when  floods  of  tears  they  shed. 
And  scatter  useless  roses  on  the  dead. 
Oh,  sacred  Bristol !  then,  what  dangers  prove 
The  arts,  thou  smil'st  on  with  paternal  love  ? 
Then,  miit  with  rubbish  by  the  brutal  foes. 
In  vain  the  marble  breathes,  the  canvasglows;  ^ 
To  sbades  obscure  the  glittering  sword  pursues 
The  gentle  poet,  and  defenceless  Muse. 
A  voice  likcvthine,  alone,  might  then  asswage 
^  vaRior*s  fiiry,  and  control  his  rafpe; 


To  hear  thee  speak,  might  the*  fieroe  Vandal  stand, 
And  flmer  the  brandish'd  sabre  from  his  hand. 

Far  hence  be  driven  to  ^oythia's  stormy  shot* 
The  drum's  harsh  music,  and  the  cannon's  roar; 
Let  grim  Bellona  haunt  the  lawless  plain. 
Where  Tartar  clans  and  grizly  Oossacks  reign; 
Let  the  steoi'd  Turk  be  deaf  to  naatrons*  crie^ 
See  vh-gins  ravish  d  with  rdeotleas  eyes. 
To  death  grey  heads  aiid.srailing  mnmts  doom« 
Nor  spare  the  promise  of  the  pregiMnt  womb» 
O'er  wasted  kingdoms  spread  his  wide  command. 
The  mvige  lord  of  an  unpeopled  land. 

Her  guiltless  ^ory  just  Britannia  draws 
From  pnre  religioa,  and  impartial  laws. 
To  Europe's  womids  a  mother's  aid  she  bring9. 
And  holds  in  equal  scales  the  rival  kings: 
Her  generous  sons  in  choicest  gifts  aboandy 
Alike  in  arms,  alike  in  arts  jenown'd. 

As  when  sweet  Venus  (so  the  fible  iiiigs) 
Awak'd  by  Nereids,  from  the  ocean  springs. 
With  smiles  die  sees  the  threatening  billows  rise. 
Spreads  smooth  tfaesui:ge,and  clears  the  louring  skiei^ 
light,  o*er  the  deep,  with  fluttering  Cupids  crofini'd. 
The  peariy  couch  and  silver  turtles  bound; 
Her  tresses  shed  ambrosial  odours  round* 

Amidst  the  world  of  waves  so  stands  sereoa 
Britannia's  isle,  the  ocean's  statdy queen; 
In  vain  the  nations  have  conspired  her  fall. 
Her  trench  the  sea,  and  fleets  her  floating  wall  t 
Defenceless  barks,  her  powerfid  navy  near. 
Have  only  w^ves  and  hurricanes  to  fear. 
What  bold  invader,  or  what  land  opprest. 
Hath  not  her  anger  quell'd,  her  aid  redrest ! 
Say,  where  have  e'er  her  unioB-crosses  sail'd. 
But  much  her  arms,  her  justice  more  prevail*d ! 
Her  labours  are,  to  plead  th'  Almighty's  cause. 
Her  pride  te  teach  th'  untam'd  barbarian  laws  ; 
Who  conquers  wins  by  brutal  strength  the  prises 
But  'tis  a  godlike  work  to  civilise. 

Have  we  fiorgot  how  from  great  Russia's  throne 
l\»e  king,  whose  power  half  Europe's  regions  own. 
Whose  scqitre  waving,  with  one  shout  rush  forth 
In  swarms  the  hamess'd  millions  of  the  north. 
Through  realms  of  ice  pursued  his  tedious  way 
To  court  our  friendship,  and  our  fome  survey ! 
Hence  the  rich  prize  of  usefol  arts  he  bore. 
And  round  his  empire  spread  the  lesumed  store : 
(T'  adorn  old  reabns  is  tnore  than  new  to  nuse. 
His  country's  parent  is  a  monarch's  praise.) 
His  bands  now  march  in  just  array  to  war. 
And  Caspian  ^phs  unusual  navies  bear;    " 
With  Runick  lays  Smolensko's  forests  ring. 
And  wondering  Volga  hears  the  Muses  sing. 
Did  not  thepamted  kings  of  India  greet 
Our  queen,  and  lay  their  sceptres  at  h&t  feet? 
Chiefii  who  full  bowls  of  hostile  blood  had  quaflTd, 
Fant'd  for  the  javelin,  and  envenom'd  shaft. 
Whose  haughty  brows  made  savages  adore. 
Nor  bow'd  to  less  than  stars  or  sun  before. 
Her  pitying  smile  accepts  their  supfdiant  claim, 
And  adds  foiu*  monarchs  to  the  Christian  name. 

Blest  use  of  power!  O  virtuous  pride  in  kings! 
And  like  his  bounty,  whence  dominion  qmngs  I 
Which  o*er  new  worlds  makes  Heaven's  indulgence 
And  ranges  myriads  under  laws  divine !        [shine. 
Well  bought  with  all  that  those  sweet  regions  hold^ 
With  groves  of  spices,  and  with  mines  of  gold* 

Fearless  eur  merchant  now  pursues^  his  gain^ 
And  rooms  securely  o'er  the  boundless  main. 


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104 


TICKELL'S  POEMS. 


Now  o'er  his  head  Che  pokr  Bear  he  tpies. 
And  freezing  spangles  of  the  I^pland  skies  ; 
Now  swells  his  canvas  to  the  sultry  line, 
With  glittering  spoils  where  Indian  grottos  shine. 
Where  fumes  of  incense  glad  the  southern  seas. 
And  wafted  citron  scents  the  balmy  breeze. 
Here  nearer  suns  prepare  the  ripening  gem, 
To  grace  great  Anne's  imperial  diadem, 
And  here  the  ore,  whose  melted  mass  Shall  yield 
On  faithful  coins  each  memorable  field, 
Which,  mix*d  with  medals  of  hnmortal  Rome, 
May  clear  diq;>utes,  and  teach  the  times  to  come. 

In  circling  beams  shall  godlike  Anna  glow, 
And  ChurchilPs  sword  hang  o'er  the  prostrate  foe ; 
In  comely  wounds  shall  bleeding  worthies  stand, 
Webb^s  firm  platoon,  and  Lumley's  faithful  band. 
Bold  Mofdaunt  in  Ibeiian  trophies  drert. 
And  Cani^ibell^s  dragon  on  bis  dauntless  breast. 
Great  Onnond's  de^  on  Vigo*s  spoils  enroU'd, 
And  Ouiscard's  knife  on  Harley*s  Chili  gokl. 
And  if  the  Muse,  O  Bristol,  might  decree. 
Here  Oranyille  noted  by  the  lyre  should  be. 
The  lyre  for  Oraaville,  and  the  cross  for  thee. 

Such  are  the  hononn  grateful  Britam  pays; 
So  patriots  merit,  and  so  monarchs  praise. 
O'er  distant  times  such  records  shall  prevail. 
When  English  numbers,  antiquated,  fiiil : 
A  trifling  song  the  Muse  can  only  yiekl. 
And  sooth  her  soldiers  panting  from  the  field. 
To  sweet  retirements  see  them  safe  convey'd, 
And  raise  their  battles  in  the  rural  shade. 
From  fields  of  death  to  Woodstock's  peaceful  glooms, 
(The  poet's  haunt)  Britannia's  hero  comes-* 
Begin  my  Muse,  and  softly  touch  the  string : 
Here  Henry  lov'd;  and  Chaucer  leam'd  to  smg. 

Hail,  fabled  grotto !  hail,  Elysian  soil ! 
Thou  fiurest  spot  of  fair  Britannia's  isle ! 
Where  kings  of  old,  conceal'd,  forgot  the  throne. 
And  Beauty  was  content  to  shine  unknown ; 
Where  Love  and  War  by  turns  pavilions  rear, 
And  Henry's  bowers  near  Blenheim's  dome  appear; 
The  weary'd  champion  lull  in  soft  alcoves, 
7*be  noblest  boast  of  thy  romantic  groves. 
Oft,  if  the  Muse  presage,  shall  he  be  seen 
By  Rosamonda  fleeting  o'er  the  green, 
In  dreams  be  haii'd  by  heroes'  mighty  shades. 
And  hear  old  Chaucer  warble  through  the  glades. 
O'er  the  fam'd  echoing  vaults  his  name  shall  bound. 
And  hill  to  hill  reflect  the  fiivourite  sound. 

Here,  here  at  least  thy  love  for  arms  give  o'er. 
Nor,  one  world  conquer'd,  fondly  wish  fbr  more. 
Vice  of  great  souls  fUone!  O  thirst  of  fame! 
The  Muse  admires  it,  while  she  strives  to  blame. 
Tny  toils  be  now  to  chase  the  bounding  deer. 
Or  view  the  coursers  stretch  in  wild  career. 
This  lovely  scene  shall  sooth  thy  soul  to  rest. 
And  wear  each  dreadful  image  from  thy  breast 
With  pleasure,  by  thy  conquests  shalt  thou  see 
Th  V  queen  triumphant,  and  all  Europe  firee. 
No  cares  henceforth  shall  thy  repose  destroy, 
B  Jt  what  thou  giv'st  the  world,  thyself  enjoy. 

Sweet  Solitude !  when  life's  gay  hours  are  past 
Howe'er  we  range,  in  thee  we  fix  at  last : 
T'>^  through  tempestuous  seas  (the  voyage  o'er) 
Pale  we  look  back,  and  bless  thy  friendly  shore. 
Our  own  strict  judges  our  past  Kfe  we  s(»Ln, 
And  ask  if  glory  hath  enlarged  the  span : 
If  bright  the  pm^tect,  we  the  grave  4eiy, 
Trust  future  ages,  and  contented  die. 


Whep  strangely  from  far  distill  dimes  rfwll  I 
To  view  the  pomp  of  thb  triumphant  dome. 
Where,  rear'd  aloft,  disseinbled  trophies  stand. 
And  breathing  labours  of  the  sculptor's  hand. 
Where  Kneller's  art  shall  paint  the  Aymg  Gaul, 
And  Bourbon's  woes  shall  fill  the  story'd  wall ; 
Heirs  of  thy  blood  shall  o'er  their  bounteous  boml  - 
Fix  JBurope's  guard,  thy  monumental  sword. 
Banners  that  oft  have  wav'd  on  conquer'd  walls. 
And  trumps,  that  drown'd  the  groans  of  gasping 

Oauls. 
Fair  dames  shall  oft,  with  curious  eye,  ezploie 
The  costly  robes  that  slaughter'd  generals  wore, 
Rich  trappings  from  the  Danube's  whirlpools  broogbty 
(Hesperian  nuns  the  gorgeous  broidery  wrought) 
Belts  stiff  with  gold,  the  Boian  horseman's  pnde, 
Anii  Gaul's  fair  flowers,  in  human  crimson  dy'd. 
Of  Churchill's  jrace  perhaps  some  lovely  boy 
Shall  mark  the  bumish'd  steel  that  hangs  un  high. 
Shall  gaze  transported  on  its  glittering  charms. 
And  reach  it  struggling  with  unequal  arms. 
By  signs  thednun'stumultuoiu  sound  request. 
Then  seek,  in  starts,  the  hushmg  mother's  breast. 

So  in  the  painter's  animated  frame. 
Where  Mars  embraces  the  soft  Paphian  dame, 
Th^  little  Loves  in  sport  his  ^suchion  wield, 
Orjoin  their  strength  to  heave  his  ponderous  shield: 
One  strokes  the  plume  in  T]rtion*s  gore  embrued. 
And  one  the  spear,  that  reeks  with  Typhon's  blood: 
Another's  in&nt  brows  the  helm  sustain. 
He  nods  his  crest,  and  frights  the  shrielUng  train. 

Thus,  the  rude  tempest  of  the  field  o'o^lown. 
Shall  whiter  rounds  of  smiling  yean  roll  on. 
Our  victors,  blest  in  peace,  foiget  their  wars, 
Ei\ioy  past  dangers,  and  absolve  the  stars. 
But,  oh !  what  sorrows  shall  bedew  your  urns. 
Ye  honour'd  shades,  whom  widow 'd  Albioa  mooms ! 
If  your  thin  forms  yet  discontented  moan. 
And  Wunt  the  mangled  mansions,  once  your  own  ; 
Behold  what  flowers  the  pious  Muses  straw. 
And  tears,  which  in  the  midst  of  triumph  flow  ; 
Cypress  and  bajrs  your  envy'd  brows  surround. 
Your  names  the  t^er  matron's  heart  shall  wound. 
And  the  soft  maid  grow  pensive  at  the  sound. 

Accept,  great  Anne,  the  tears  their  memory  drawi. 
Who  nobly  pcrish'd  in  their  sovereign's  cause: 
For  thou  in  pity  bid 'st  the  war  give  o'er, 
Moum'st  thy  shiin  heroes,  nor  wilt  venture  more. 
Vast  price  of  blood  on  each  victorious  day ! 
(But  Europe's  fireedom  doth  that  price  repay.) 
Lamented  triumphs  !  when  one  b^th  must  tell 
Tliat  Marlborough  conquer'd,  and  that  Dormer  felL 

Great  queeu  !    whose  name  strikes  haughty  mo» 
narchs  pale. 
On  whose  just  sceptre  hangs  Europa's  scale. 
Whose  arm  like  Mercy  woimds,  decides  like  Fate, 
On  whose  decree  the  nations  anxious  wait : 
From  Albion's  cliffs  thy  widc-ext^ed  hand 
Shall  o'er  the  main  to  fiir  Peru  command ; 
So  vast  a  tract  whose  wide  domain  shall  run. 
Its  circling  skies  shall  see  no  setting  suiu 
lliee,  thee  en  hundred  languages  shall  claim. 
And  savage  Indians  tnvear  by.  Anna's  name; 
The  line  and  poles  shall  own  thy  rightful  sway. 
And  thy  commands  the  serer'd  globe  obey. 

Round  the  vast  ball  thy  new  dominions  cham 
The  watery  kingdoms,  and  control  the  main ', 
Magellan's  straits  to  Gibraltar  they  join. 
Across  the  seas  a  formidable  line  -, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ON  THE  PROSPEC?r  OF  PEACE. 


105 


Tte  li^  of  adrone  Oanl  we  feur  no  more, 
BDipl6M*cl  we  Dankirk,  now  a  guiltlets  shore ; 
In  tain  great  Neptune  tore  the  oarroir  pound, 
And  meaot  his  vateis  for  Britannia's  bcrand; 
Her  giant  genius  takes,  a  mighty  stride, 
And  sets  hm  foot  beyond  the  encroaching  tide  ; 
On  either  bank  the  nud  its  master  knows. 
And  in  (he  midst  the  sobiect  ocean  flows. 

So  near  proud  Rhodes,  across  the  raging  flood, 
fltupeodous  form !  the  vast  CoUmsus  stood, 
(While  at  one  foot  their  thronging  gaUies  ride, 
A  whole  hour's  sail  scarce  reach  the  further  side) 
Betwixt  his  brazen  thi^,  in  loose  array. 
Ten  thousand  streamers  on  the  billows  play. 

By  Barley's  counsels,  Dunkirk,  now  restor'd 
To  Britain's  empire,  owns  her  ancient  lord. 
In  him  transfused  his  godlike  fether  reigns, 
Kich  in  the  blood  winch  swell'd  that  patriot's  veins, 
Who,  boldly  foithful,  met  his  sovereign's  frown. 
And  soom'd  for  gold  to  yield  th'  important  town. 
His  son  was  bom  the  ravish'd  prey  to  claim, 
And  FVanoe  still  trembles  at  an  Harley's  name. 

A  fort  so  dreadful  to  our  English  shore. 
Our  fleets  scarce  fear'd  the  sands  or  tempesb  more, 
Whose  rast  expenses  to  such  sums  amount. 
That  the  tax'd  Claul  scarce  furnished  out  th'  account, 
Whose  walls  such  bulwarks,  such  vast  towers  restrain, 
Its  weakest  ramparts  are  the  rocks  and  main. 
His  boast  gre«t  Louis  jrields,  and  cheaply  buys 
Thy  friendship,  Anna,  with  the  mighty  prize. 
Holland  repining,  and  in  grief  cast  down. 
Sees  the  new  glories  of  the  British  crown : 
Ah !  may  they  ne'er  provoke  thee  to  the  fight. 
Nor  foes,  more  dreadful  than  the  Gaul,  inrite. 
Soon  may  they  hold  the  olive,  soon  asswage 
llieir  secret  murmurs,  nor  call  forth  thy  rage 
To  rend  their  banks,  and  pour,  at  one  command, 
lliy  realm,  the  sea,  o'er  their  precarious  land. 

Henceforth  be  thine,  vice-gerent  of  the  skies, 
Seon^'d  worth  to  i;aise,  and  vice  in  robes  chastise. 
To  dry  the  orphan's  tears,  and  from  the  bar, 
Oiaoe  the  brib'd  judge,  and  hush  the  wordy  war. 
Deny  the  curst  blasphemer's  tongue  to  rage. 
And  torn  God's  fury  from  an  impious  age. 
Blest  change !  the  soldier's  lato  destroying  hand 
Shall  rear  new  temples  in  his  native  land ; 
Jfistaken  zealots  shall  with  fear  behold. 
And  beg  admittaoce  in  our  sacred  fold ; 
On  her  own  works  the  pious  queen  shall  smile. 
And  torn  her  cares  upon  her  fovourito  isle. 

So  the  keen  bolt  a  warrior  angel  aims, 
Array'd  in  clouds,  and  wrapt  in  mantling  flames ; 
He  bears  a  temp^  on  his  sounding  wings. 
And  his  red  arm  the  forky  vengeance  flings ; 
At  length.  Heaven's  wrath  appeas'd,  he  quits  the  war. 
To  roll  his  orb,  and  guide  his  dc^tin'd  star, 
T»  shed  kmd  fote,  and  lucky  hours  bestow, 
Aod  smile  propitioas  on  the  woHd  below. 

Around  thy  throne  shall  faithftil  nobles  wait,  • 
Hiese  guard  the  church,  and  those  direct  the  state. 
To  Bristol,  graceful  in  maternal  tears, 
The  Oiurch  her  towery  forehead  gently  rears ; 
She  begs  her  pious  son  t'  assert  her  cause 
Belend  her  rights,  and  reenforce  her  laws. 
With  holy  zed  the  sacred  work  begm. 
To  bend  the  stubborn,  and  thie  meek  to  win. 

Oar  Oxford's  eari  in  carefol  thought  shall  stand. 
To  ruse  his  queen,  and  save  a  Biuking  land. 


The  wealthiest  glebe  to  ravenous  Spaniards  known  ^ 
He  marks,  and  makes  the  golden  world  our  own. 
Content  with  hands  unsoil'd  to  guard  the  prize. 
And  keep  the  store  with  undesiring  eyes. 

So  round  the  tree,  that  bore  Hesperian  gold. 
The  sacred  wateh  lay  cuH'd  in  many  a  fokl. 
His  eyes  up-rearing  to  th'  untasted  prey. 
The  sleepless  guardian  wasted  life  away. 

Beneath  the  peaceful  olives,  rais'd  by  yoo. 
Her  ancient  pride,  shall  every  art  renew, 
(The  arts  with  you  fam'd  Harcourt  shall  defend,' 
And  courtly  Bolingbroke  the  Muse's  friend.) 
With  piercing  eye.  some  search  where  Nature  playi. 
And  trace  the  wanton  through  her  darksome  maze. 
Whence  health  from  herbs;  from  seeds  bow  grovet 
How  vital  streams  in  circling  eddies  run.     [begun. 
Some  teach  why  round  the  Sun  the  spheres  advance. 
In  the  tix*d  measures  of  their  mystic  dance. 
How  tides,  when  heav'd  by  pressing  muons,  o'erflow. 
And  sun-bom  Iris  paints  her  showery  bow. 
In  happy  chains  our  daring  language  bound. 
Shall  sport  no  more  in  arbitrary  sound. 
But  buskin'd  bards  henceforth  shall  wisely  rage. 
And  Grecian  plans  reform  Britannia's  stage : 
Till  Congreve  bids  her  smile,  Augusta  stimds 
And  longs  to  weep  when  flowing  Rowe  commands. 
Britain's  Spectators  shall  their  strength  oombiiia 
To  mend  our  monds  and  our  taste  n-fine, 
Fight  virtue's  cause,  stand  up  m  wit's  defence. 
Win  us  from  vice,  and  laugh  us  into  sfici 
Nor,  Prior,  bast  thou  hush'd  the  trump  In  vain. 
Thy  l3rre  shall  now  revive  her  mirthful  strain. 
New  tales  shall  now  be  told  ;  if  right  I  see, 
The  soul  of  Giaucer  is  restored  in  thee. 
Gaith,  in  majestic  numbers,  to  the  stars 
Shall  raise  mock  heroes,  and  fantastic  wars ; 
Like  the  young  spreading  laurel,  Pope,thy  namt 
Shoots  up  with  strength,  and  rises  into  fame  ; 
With  Philips  shall  the  peaceful  vaJlies  ring. 
And  Britain  hear  a  second  Speaker  sing. 
That  much-lov*d  youtb.whomUtrecht's  walls  confine. 
To  Bristol's  praises  shall  his  Straflford's  join: 
He  too,  from  whum  attentive  Oxford  draws 
Rules  for  just  thinking,  and  poetic  laws, 
To  growing  bards  his  learned  aid  shall  lend. 
The  strictest  critic,  and  the  kindest  friend. 
Ev'n  mine,  a  bashful  Muse,  whose  rude  essayr    ■ 
Scarce  hope  for  pardon,  not  aispire  to  praise, 
Cherish'd  by  you,  in  time  may  grow  to  fome, 
And  mine  survive  with  Bristol's  glorious  name. 

Fir'd  with  the  views  this  glittering  scene  display!^ 
And  srait  with  passion  for  my  country's  praiae. 
My  artlf>ss  reed  attempts  this  lofty  theme. 
Where  sacred  Isis  rolls  her  ancient  stream ; 
In  cloister'd  domes,  the  great  Philippa's  pride,  [sidf^ 
Where  licaming  blooms  ^hile  Fame  and  Worth  pre* 
Where  the  fifth  Henry  arts  and  arms  was  tauglit. 
And  Edward  fonii'd  his  Cressy,  yet  unfought, 
Wliere  laurel'd  bards  have  struck  the  warbling  ftnngi^ 
The  seat  of  saj^es,  and  the  nurse  of  kings. 
Here  thy  commands,  O  T^ncaster,  inflame 
My  eager  breast  to  raise  the  British  name, 
ITrge  on  my  soul,  with  no  ignoble  pride. 
To  woo  the  Muse,  whom  Addison  ei\)oy'd. 
See  that  bold  swan  to  Heaven  sublimely  cotTi 
Pursue  at  disUnce,  and  his  steps  adkira. 


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io8 


TICKCLUS  POEMS. 


Td 

MR.  ADDISON, 

OK  Bit 

OPERA  OF  ROSAMONIX 

: . . . .  Ne  Ibrtfc  podori 
Sit  tibi  Musa  lyr»  lolen,  k  cantor  ApoUo. 

T- 1  Opera  first  Italian  masters  taught, 
Knrich'd  with  songs,  but  innocent  of  thongfat  | 
Bntannia*s  learned  theatre  disdains 
Melodious  trifles,  and  enervate  strabs ; 
And  blushes,  on  her  injnr'd  stage  to  see 
Nonsense  well-tun'd,  and  sweet  stupidity. 

No  charms  are  wanting  to  thy  artful  song, 
Sbft  as  Corelli,  and  as  Virgil  strong. 
From  words  so  sweet  new  grace  the  notes  receive, 
And  Music  borrows  helps,  she  U8*d  to  give. 
Thy  style  hath  matched  what  ancient  Hoteans  knew. 
Thy  flowing  numbers  far  excel  the  new. 
Their  cadence  in  such  easy  sound  convey*d. 
The  height  of  thought  may  seem  superfluous  aid; 
Y^t  in  such  charms  the  noble  thoughts  abound. 
That  needless  seem  the  sweets  of  easy  sound. 

landscapes  how  gay  the  bowery  grotto  yields. 
Which  thought  creates,  and  lavish  fsncy  builds  I 
What  art  can  trace  the  visionary  scenes, 
The  flowery  groves,  and  everlasting  greens. 
The  babbling  sounds  that  mimic  echo  plays. 
The  fairy  shade,  and  its  eternal  maze  ? 
Nature  and  Art  in  all  their  charms  combined. 
And  all  Elyshun  to  one  view  confin'd ! 
No  ftirther  could  imagination  roam,  [dome. 

Tift  Vanbnigh  fram'd,  and  Marlborough  raisM  the 

Ten  thousand  pangs  my  anxious  bosom  tear. 
When  drownM  m  tears  1  sea  th*  imploring  fiur ; 
When  twrd9  less  soft  the  moving  words  supply, 
A, seeming  justice  dooms  the  nymph  to  die ; 
But  here  she  begs,  nor  can  she  beg  in  vain 
(In  dirges  thus  expiring  swans  complain) ; 
Each  verse  so  swells  expressive  of  her  woes. 
And  every  tear  in  hues  so  mournful  flows; 
We,  spite  of  fame,  her  fate  reversM  believe, 
0*erlbok  her  crim^  and  think  she  ought  to  live. 

liCt  joy  salute  fair  Rosamonda*s  shade, 
And  wreaths  of  myrtle  crown  the  lovely  maid. 
While  now  perhaps  with  Dido'ff  ghost  she  roves, 
'And  hears  and  tells  the  story  of  their  loves. 
Alike  they  mourn,  alike  they  bless  their  fate. 
Since  Love,  which  made  them  wretched,  makes  them 
Nor  kmger  that  relentless  doom  bemoan,        [great 
Which  gained  a  Virgil,  and  an  Addison. 

Accept,  great  monarch  of  the  British  lays, 
The  tribute  song  an  humble  subject  pays. 
So  tries  the  artless  lark  her  eariy  flight^ 
•And  soars,  to  hail  the  god  of  verse  and  light 
Unrivaird,  as  nnmatch'd,  be  still  thy  fame. 
And  thy  own  laurels  shade  thy  envy'd  name : 
Thy  name,  the  boast  of  all  the  tuneful  quire. 
Shall  tremble  on  the  strings  of  every  lyre; 
While  the  channM  reader  with  thythought  complies, 
Feelt  corresponding  joys  or  sorrows  rise, 
'And  views  tiiy  Rosamond  with  Henry*s  eyes. 


If9 

THE,  SAME; 
ov  ■» 
TRAGEDY  OF  CATa 

Too  long  hath  love  eogrossM  Britannia's  staf^ 
And  sunk  to  softness  all  our  tragic  rage: 
By  that  alone  did  empires  &11  or  rise. 
And  fkte  depended  on  a  fair-one's  eye^ 
The  sweet  mfection,  mixt  with  dangerous  art. 
Debased  our  manhood,  while  it  sooth'd  the  hdart. 
Yon  scorn  to  raise  a  grief  thyself  must  blame. 
Nor  flrom  our  weakness  steal  a  vulgar  hmt : 
A  patriot's  fall  may  justly  melt  the  mind, 
And  tears  flow  nobly,  shed  for  all  mankind. 

How  do  our  souls  with  generous  pleasure  fjlcm  I 
Our  hearts  exulting,  while  our  eyes  overflow. 
When  thy  firm  hero  stands  beneath  the  weight 
Of  all  his  suffering  venerably  great ; 
Rome's  poor  remains  still  sheltering  by  his  nde. 
With  conscious  virtue,  and  becoming  pride  1 
The  aged  oak  thus  rears  his  head  in  air. 
His  sap  exhausted,  and  his  branches  bare  ; 
'Midst  storms  and  earthquakes,he  maintains  his  stat^ 
Pixt  deep  m  earth,  and  fastened  by  his  weight : 
His  naked  boughs  still  lend  the  shepherds  aid. 
And  his  old  trunk  prefects  an  awful  shade. 

Amidst  the  jojrs  triumphant  peace  bestows. 
Our  patriots  sadden  at  his  glorious  woes; 
Awhile  they  let  the  worid's  great  business  waita 
Anxious  for  Rome,  and  sigh  for  Cato^s  fate. 
Here  taught  how  ancient  heroes  rose  to  feme. 
Our  Britons  crowd,  and  catch  the  Roman  flame* 
Where  states  and  senates  well  might  lend  an  ear. 
And  kings  and  priests  without  a  blush  appear. 

France  boasts  no  more,  but,  fearful  to  engage^ 
Now  first  pays  homage  to  her  rival's  stage. 
Hastes  to  learn  thee,  and  learning  shall  8ul|qvt 
Alike  to  British  arms,  and  British  wit : 
No  more  shell  wonder,  forc'd  to  do  us  right. 
Who  think  like  Romans,  could  like  Romans  fig)it«. 

Thy  Oxford  smiles  this  glorious  work  to  see. 
And  fondly  triumphs  in  a  son  like  thee. 
The  senates,  consuls,  and  the  gods  of  Rome, 
Like  old  acquaintance  at  their  native  home. 
In  thee  we  find :  each  deed,  each  word  expreM, 
And  every  thought  that  swellM  a  Roman  breast. 
We  trace  each  hint  that  could  thy  soiU  inspire 
With  Virgil's  judgement,  and  with  Lucan's  fire  ; 
We  know  thy  worth,  and,  give  us  leave  to  boast. 
We  most  admire,  because  we  know  thee  most. 


THE  ROYAL  PROGRESS, 

Whbk  Brunswick  first  appear'd,  each  honest  hearty 

Intent  on  verse,  disdainM  the  rules  of  art ; 

For  him  the  songsters,  in  unmeasur*d  odes. 

Debased  Alcides,  and  dethroned  the  gods. 

In  golden  chains  the  kings  of  India  led. 

Or  rent  the  turban  from  the  saltan's  head. 

One,  in  old  fables,  and  the  pagan  strain. 

With  nymphs  andtntons,  wafts  him  o'er  the  mam| 

Another  draws  fierce  Lucifer  in  arms 

And  fills  th'  infemal  region  with  alanm; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  ROYAL  l>ROOR£SS. 


for 


A  uura  swucGS  some  dnndf  to  raretn 
Eacb  fiitare  trUiinph,  from  his  dreary  celL 
Eipkxkd  fiuocies !  that  in  vain  deodre, 
WhOe  the  mfaxl  nauseate^  what  she  canH  beliere. 
H 7  Muse  th'  expected  hero  shall  pursue 
fnxBk  dime-to  cKme,  and  keep  him  still  h)  view  ; 
His  shining  march  descrihe  in  ftithfiil  Ia3rs, 
Content  to  paint  him,  nor  presume  to  praise ; 
Their  channs,  if  charms  they  have,  the  truth  supplies, 
And  from  the  theme  milaboor'd  beauties  rise. 

By  k>n|;uig^  nations  for  the  throne  designed. 
And  call'd  to  guard  the  rights  of  human-kind  ; 
With  secret  grief  his  god-like  soul  repines, 
And  Britain*s  crown  with  joyless  lustre  shines. 
While  prayen  and  tears  his  destm'd  progress  stay, 
And  crowds  of  moumeia  choke  their  sovereign's  way. 
Not  so  he  marchM,  when  hostile  squadrons  stood 
In  scenes  of  death,  and  fir'd  his  generous  blood  ^ 
When  his  hot  courser  paw'd  th'  Hungarian  phun. 
And  adverse  legions  stood  the  shock  in  vain. 
ffis  frontiers  past,  the  Belgian  bounds  he  views, 
And  croBB  the  level  fields  his  march  pursues. 
Here,  pleas'd  the  land  of  freedom  to  survey, 
fie  greatly  scorns  the  thirst  of  boundless  sway. 
O'er  the  tfam  soil,  with  silent  joy.  he  spies 
Transplanted  woods,  and  borrowNd  verdure  rise  ; 
Where  every  meadow,  won  with  toil  and  blood 
FhMn  haughty  t3rrants  and  the  raging  flood. 
With  fntit  and  flowers  the  careiVil  hind  supplies. 
And  clothes  the  marshes  in  a  rich  disguise. 
Such  wealth  for  frugal  hands  doth  Heaven  decree, 
Ai>d  SQch  thy  gifts,  celestial  Liberty ! 

Through  stately  towns,  and  many  a  fertile  plain. 
The  pomp  advances  to  the  neighbouring  main, 
Whde  nations  croud  around  with  joyful  cries. 
And  view  the  hero  with  msatiate  eyes. 

In  Haga's  towers  he  waits  till  eastern  gales 
PropitkNis  rise  to  swell  the  British  sails. 
Hither  the  fome  of  England's  monarch  brings 
The  vows  and  friendships  of  the  neighbouring  kings ; 
Mature  in  wisdom,  his  extensive  mind 
I^kes  in  the  blanded  interests  of  mankind^ 
The  world's  great  patriot  Calm  thy  anxious  breast, 
Secure  in  him,  O  Europe,  take  thy  rest; 
Henceforth  thy  kingdoms  shall  remain  oonfin'd 
By  rocks  or  streams,  the  mounds  which  Heaven  de- 
signed; 
The  Alps  their  new-made  monarch  shall  restrain. 
Hot  shall  thy  hills,  Pirene,  rise  in  vain. 

But  see !  to  Britain's  isle  the  squadrons  stand, 
And  leave  the  sinking  towers,  and  lessening  land. 
The  royal  bark  bounds  o'er  the  floating  plain, 
Breaks  through  the  billows,  and  divides  the  main. , 
O'er  the  vast  deep,  great  monarch,  dart  thine  eyes, 
A  watery  prospect  bounded  by  the  skies : 
Ten  thousand  vessels,  from  ten  thousand  shores. 
Bring  gums  and  gold,  and  either  India's  stores : 
Befaotd  the  tributes  hastening  to  thy  throne. 
And  see  the  wide  horizon  all  thy  own. 

Still  is  it  thine ;  though  now  the  chearful  crew 
tiul  Albion's  clifis ;  just  whitening  to  the  view. 
Before  the  wind  with  swelling  sails  they  ride, 
TU  Hiames  receives  them  in  his  oj^ening  tide. 
The  Boonarch  hears  the  thundering  peals  aniond, 
Fkom  trembling  woods  and  echoing  hills  rebound. 
Nor  misses  yet,  amid  the  d^albning  train, 
Tbe  roarings  of  the  hoarse-resounding  main. 

As  in  the  flood  he  sails,  fttkui  cither  side 
He  views  bit  kingdom  in  hb  rural  pnde ; 


A  various  leeue  the  Wide-spread  lan^beape  3^elds,- 
Cer  rich  enckwures  and  luxuriant  fields ; 
A  lowing  herd  each  fertile  pasture  fills, 
And  distant  flocks  stray  o'er  a  thousand  hills; 
Fair  Greenwich,  hid  in  woods,  with  new  delight 
Shade^  above  shade,  now  rises  to  the  sight ; 
His  woods  ordain'd  to  visit  every  shore. 
And  guard  the  island  which  they  grac'd  before* 

The  Sun  now  rolling  down  the  western  way, 
A  blaze  of  fires  renews  the  fodhig  day ; 
Unnarober'd  barks  the  regal  barge  infuld. 
Brightening  the  twilight  irith  its  beamy  gold  | 
Less  thick  the  finny  iboalf ,  a  oountless  fry. 
Before  tbe  whale  or  kingly  dolphin  fly. 
In  one  vast  shout  he  sedcs  the  crouded  strand. 
And  in  a  peal  of  thunder  gains  tbe  land. 

Welcome,  great  stranger,  to  our  longing  ejros, 
Oh !  kmg  detir%  adopted  Albion  cries. 
For  thee  the  East  breldh'd  out  a  prosperous  breezi^ 
Bright  were  the  suns,  and  gently  swell'd  the  seas. 
Thy  presence  did  each  doubtful  heart  compose. 
And  factJODB  wonder'd  that  they  once  were  foes. 
That  joyful  day  they  lost  each  hostile  kiame. 
The  same  their  aspect,  and  their  voice  the  same. 

So  two  fair  twms,  whose  features  were  design'd 
At  one  soft  moment  in  the  mother's  mind. 
Show  each  the  other  with  reflected  grace, 
And  the  same  beauties  bloom  in  either  foce  ; 
The  puzzled  ^strangers  which  is  which  inquire; 
Delusion  gratefrU  to  the  smiling  sire. 

From  that  fan-  hill  ^  where  hoarysages  boast 
To  name  the  stars,  and  count  the  heavenly  host. 
By  the  next  dawn  doth  great  Augusta  rise. 
Proud  town  !  tbe  noblest  scene  beneath  the  skies.' 
O'er  Thames  her  thousand  spires  their  lustre  shed. 
And  a  vast  navy  hides  his  ample  bed, 
A  floating  forest    From  the  distant  strand  . 
A  line  of  golden  carrs  strikes  o'er  the  land : 
Britannia's  peers  in  pomp  and  rich  array, 
Before  their  king  triiunphant,  lead  the  way.  . 
Far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  the  gaudy  train,* 
A  bright  procession,  shines  along  the  plain. 

So,  haply  through  the  heaven's  wide  pathless  waya 
A  comet  draws  a  long  extended  bla^e ; 
From  east  to  west  bums  through  tbe  ethereal  frame. 
And  half  heaven's  convex  glittera  with  the  flame. 

Now  to  the  regal  towers  securely  brought,     , 
He  plans  Britannia's  glories  in  his  thought; 
Resumes  the  delegated  power  he  gave. 
Rewards  tbd  faithful,  and  restores  the  brave. 
Whom  shall  the  Muse  from  out  the  shining  throng 
Select,  to  heighten  and  adorn  her  song  ? 
Thee,  Halifox.     To  thy  capacious  mind, 
O  man  approv'd,  is  Britain's  wealth  consign'd. 
Her  coin,  while  Nassau  fought,  debas'd  and  rude. 
By  thee  in  beauty  and  in  truth  renew'd, 
An  arduous  work !  again  thy  charge  we  see. 
And  thy  own  care  once  more  returns  to  thee. 
O !  form'd  in  every  scene  to  awe  and  please, 
Mix  wit  with  pomp,  and  dignity  with  ease : 
Though  calPd  to  shine  aloft,  thou  \rilt  not  scorn 
To  smile  on  arts  thyself  did  once  adorn  : 
For  this  thy  name  succeeding  time  shall  praise,    . 
And  envy  less  thy  garter,  than  thy  bays. 

The  Muse,  if  fir'd  with  thy  enUvening  beams. 
Perhaps  shall  aim  at  mora  exalted  themes. 
Record  our  monarch  in  a  nobler  strain. 
And  sing  the  opcuiog  wonders  of  his  reign ; 

'  Mr.  Flamstead's  house. 


^Digitized  by  V^OOQlC 


lOS 


nCKELL'S  POEMS. 


Bn'gfit  Ouroliiui*s  heaTenly  b«uiti«s  tnce. 

Her  Tsliant  cooscrrt,  and  his  Uooming  race. 

A  train  of  kings  their  fruitful  love  suppUes, 

A  glorious  scene  to  Albion^s  ravish'd  eyes ; 

Who  sees  by  Brunswick^s  hand  her  sceptre  sway'd, 

And  through  his  line  &om'  age  to  age  convey'd. 


AN  miTATWN 

or  THs  pftOPBECT  or  yiaivs. 

FROM  HORACE.    BOOK  IL  ODE  XV. 

JXoam  hisigne,  recens,  adhuc 

Indictom  ore  alio :  nonsecutrnjugis 

£k  aomnis  stupet  Euias 

Hebmm  pro^Mciens,  &  nive  Caiwlidam 

Thracen,  ac  pede  baibaro 
Lustratam  Rhodopen>  Hor. 

At  Mar  his  round  one  morning  took, 
(Whom  some  call  earl,  and  tome  call  dnke) 
.  And  his  new  brethren  of  the  blade, 
ShiTering  with  fear  and  frost,  surrey'd, 
On  Perth's  bleak  hills  he  chanc'd  to  spy 
An  aged  wimrd  six  foot  high, 
With  bristled  hair  and  visage  blighted,  | 

Wall-ey'd,  bare-hauhch*d,  and  secood-sigfated. 

The  grizly  sage  in  tiiought  profound 
Behe|d  the  chief  with  back  so  round. 
Then  roird  his  eye-balls  to  and  fro 
O'er  his  paternal  hills  of  snow. 
And  into  these  tremendous  speeches 
«  Broke  forth  the  prophet  without  breeches. 
«  Into  what  ills  betray'd,  by  thee. 
This  anciqrt  kingdom  do  I  see  ! 
Her  realms  un-peopled  and  furlora ! 
Wae'sme!  that  ever  thou  wert  bom ! 
Proud  Englidi  loons  (our  clans  o'ercome) 
On  Scottish  pads  shall  amble  home| 
I  see  them  drest  in  bonnets  blue 
(The  spoib  of  thy  rebellious  crew) ; 
I  see  the  tai^get  cast  away. 
And  cheqner'd  plaid  become  their  prey, 
The  chequer'd  plaid  to  make  a  gown 
For  many  a  lass  in  London  town. 

**  In  vain  thy  hungry  mountaineers 
Come  forth  in  all  thy  warlike  geers, 
Tlie  shield,  the  pistcA,  durk,  and  dagger. 
In  which  they  daily  wont  to  swagger. 
And  oft  have  sally'd  out  to  pillage 
The  hen-roosts  of  some  peaceful  village. 
Or,  while  thehr  neighbours  were  asleep. 
Have  carry'd  off  a  low-land  sheep. 

**  M  hat  boots  thy  high-born  host  of  beggars, 
Mac-leans,  Mac-kenzies,  and  Mac-gregors, 
With  popish  cut-throats,  peijur'd  ruffians, 
And  Foster's  troop  of  raggamuffins  ? 

*'  In  vain  thy  lads  around  thee  bandy, 
Inflam'd  with  bag-pipe  and  with  brandy. 
Doth  not  bold  Sutherland  the  trusty. 
With  heart  so  true,  and  voice  so  rusty, 
(A  loyal  soul)  thy  troops  affirigfat. 
While  hoarsely  he  demands  the  fight  ? 
Dost  thou  not  generous  Hay  dread. 
The  bravest  hand,  the  wisest  head  ? 
Unrhiunted  dost  thou  hear  th'  alarms 
Of  huaiy  Athol  sheathed  in  arms  } 


**  Douglas,  who  dnwi  his  finease  damm 
From  Thanes  and  peers  of  high  renoim. 
Fiery,  and  yoi]mg,  and  uncontrol'd* 
With  kmghts,  and  squire^  and  barooa  bok!* 
(His  noble  houshoM-band)  advances^ 
And  on  the  milk-white  couraer  pranoea^ 
Thee  For&r  to  the  combat  dares. 
Grown  swarthy  in  Ibenan  wars; 
And  Monroe,  kindled  into  rage. 
Sourly  defies  thee  to  engage ; 
He'll  rout  thy  foot,  though  ne'er  so  maoyv 
And  horse  to  boot---if  thou  hadst  any. 

•'  But  see  Argyll,  with  watchful  eyes^ 
Lodg'd  in  his  deep  entrenchments  lies, 
CouchM  like  a  lion  in  thy  way. 
He  waits  to  qpring  upon  his  prey ; 
While,  like  a  herd  of  tunorous  deer. 
Thy  army  shakes  and  pants  with  foar. 
Led  by  their  doughty  general*s  skill. 
From  firith  to  frith,  from  hill  to  hill. 

"  Is  thus  thy  haughty  promise  paid 
That  to  the  Chevalier  was  made. 
When  thou  didst  oaths  and  duty  barter. 
For  dukedom,  generalship,  and  gaiter? 
Three  moons  thy  Jemmy  shall  command^ 
With  Highland  scqitre  in  his  hand. 
Too  good  for  his  pretended  birth, 
. . .  Then  down  shall  fiedl  the  king  of  Perth. 

*^*Tis  so  decreed:  for  George  shall  reigiv 
And  traitors  be  forsworn  in  vain. 
Heaven  shall  for  ever  on  him  smile. 
And  bless  him  still  with  an  Arir^ll. 
While  thou,  pursued  by  vengeral  foes, 
Condemn'd  to  barren  rocks  ioA  snows. 
And  hinder'd  passing  Inverlpcky, 
Shall  bum  the  dan,  and  curse  poor  Jocky.** 


AN  EPISTLE 


raoM  ▲  LADT  m  bnolaito  to  a  cBinxtMAir  Af 

AVIGWOJf. 

To  thee,  dear  rover,  and  thy  vanquish'd  fnends» 

The  health,  she  wants,  thy  gentle  Chloe  sends. 

Though  much  you  suffsr,  think  I  suffer  more, 

Worse  than  an  exile  on  my  native  shore. 

Companions  in  your  master's  flight  jron  nmo, 

Uncnry'd  by  your  haughty  foes  at  home  ; 

For  ever  near  the  royal  outlaw's  side 

You  share  his  fortunes,  and  his  hopes  divide. 

On  glorious  schemes,  aind  thoughts  of  empire  dweO, 

And  with  imaginary  titles  swell. 

Say,  for  thou  know'st  I  own  his  sacred  line,    . 
The  passive  doctrine,  and  the  right  divine. 
Say,  what  new  succours  does  the  chief  prepare  I 
The  strength  of  armies?  or  the  force  of  prayer  ? 
Does  he  from  Heaven  or  Earth  his  hopes  derive? 
From  saints  departed,  or  from  priests  alive  ?  [stuid, 
Nor  saints  nor  priests  can  Brunswick's  troops  vitk- 
And  beads  drop  useless  through  the  zealot's  hsod; 
Heaven  to  our  vows  may  future  kingdoms  ove. 
But  skill  and  courage  win  the  crowns  below. 

Ere  to  thy  cause,  and  thee,  my  heart  tnclin'd, 
Or  love  to  party  had  seduc*d  my  mind. 
In  fomale  joys  I  took  a  dull  delight, 
Siejsjt  all  the  mom,  and  punted  half  the  nigfat: 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ANEFISHTLE. 


109 


BttI  ttyv,  witli  feaiv  and  pobnc  csret  posMity 
The  chuich,  the  church,  for  ever  breekt  my  rest 
The  posthoy^  on  my  pillovr  I  explore, 
And  sift  the  ae^s  of  every  foreijrn  shore, 
Stodkms  to  find  new  friends,  and  new  aU'tes ; 
Wh^  armies  march  from  Sweden  in  disguise; 
How  Spain  prepares  her  banners  to  unfold, 
And  Rome  deals  out  her  blessings,  and  her  goldt 
Then  o'er  ^the  map  my  finger,  taught  to  stray, 
Cron  many  a  region  marks  the  winding  way; 
Yiouk  sea  to  sea,  finom  realm  to  realm  I  rove. 
And  grow  a  mere  geographer  by  lo^ : 
Bat  stiU  Avignon,  and  the  pleasing  coast 
That  holds  thee  banishM,  claims  my  care  the  most: 
Oft  CO  the  well-known  spot  I  fix  my  eyes. 
And  span  the  distance  that  between  us  lies. 

Let  not  our  James,  though  foil'd  in  arms,  despair, 
WMbt  on  his  side  he  reckons  half  the  fiur : 
In  Bntain'e  lomAj  isle  a  shining  throng 
War  in  his  cause,  a  thousand  beauties  strong. 
Th'  unthiiddng  victors  vainly  boast  their  powers; 
le  tbein  the  musket,  while  the  tongue  is  ours. 
We  reason  with  such  fluency  and  fire, 
The  heanx  we  baffle,  and  the  learned  tiie, 
Ag^mst  her  prelates  plead  the  church's  cause. 
And  from  our  judges  vindicate  the  laws. 
Then  mowm  not,  hapless  prince,  thy  kingdoms  lost ; 
A  crown,  though  late,  thy  sacred  brows  may  boast; 
Heaven  seems  through  us  thy  empire  to  decree; 
Ihsse  who  win  hearts,  have  given  their  hearts  to  thee. 

Hast  thou  not  heard  that  when,  profusely  gay. 
Our  well-drest  rivals  grac'd  their  sovereign's  day, 
We  stubborn  damsels  met  the  public  view 
In  loathsome  wormwood,  and  repenting  rae  ? 
WW  Whig  but  trembled,  when  our  mtless  band 
In  virgin  rotes  whitened  half  the  land  f 
Who  can  fofget  what  fears  the  foe  nossest. 
When  oaken-boughs  marked  every  loyal  bnsastf 
Los  •car'd  than  Medway'sstream  the  Norman  stood. 
When  cross  the  plain  he  spy'd  a  mardUng  wood. 
Till,  near  at  band,  a  gleam  of  swords  betray'd 
The  youth  of  Kent  beneath  its  wandering  shade  ? 

Those  who  the  succours  of  the  fiur  despise. 
May  find  that  we  have  hails  as  well  as  eyes. 
Thy  female  bards,  O  prince  by  fortune  crost. 
At  leait  more  courage  than  thy  men  can  boast : 
Our  sex  has  dar'd  the  mug-bouse  chiefii  to  meet. 
And  purchased  fame  in  many  a  well-fought  street 
Fkom  Drury-Lane,  the  region  of  renown. 
The  land  of  love,  the  Pap^  of  the  town. 
Fair  patriots  sallying  oft  have  put  to  flight 
With  all  their  poles  the  guardians  of  the  night. 
And  bore,  with  screams  cf  triumph,  to  their  side 
The  leader's  staff  in  all  its  pamted  pride. 
Nov  fears  the  hawker  in  her  warbling  note 
To  vend  the  discontented  statesman's  thought, 
ThoQgh  red  with  stripes,  and  recent  from  the  thong, 
Bore  smitten  for  the  tove  of  sacred  song. 
The  tuneful  sisters  still  pursue  their  trade, 
like  Philomela  darkling  in  the  shade. 
FoorTVoU  attei^  forgetful  of  a  fere. 
And  hums  in  concert  o'er  his  easy  chair. 

Meanwhile,  regardless  of  the  royal  cause. 
His  sword  for  Jamet  no  brother  spverdgn  draws. 
The  pope  himself,  surrounded  with  aburms. 
To  France  bis  bulls,  to  Corfu  sends  his  arms. 
And  though  he  hears  his  dariing  son's  oomplaiBt, 
Can  hardly  spare  one  tutelary  saint. 
But  Tifts  them  all  to  guard  hif  own  abodeg^ 
Aodi^  ready  mooey  coins  his  gods. 


The  danndess  Swede,  pttttbed  by  vengelUl  foe% 
Scarce  keeps  his  own  hereditary  snows ; 
Nor  must  the  friendly  roof  of  kind  Lorrain 
With  feasts  regale  our  garter'd  youth  agafai. 
Safe,  Bar-le-Doc,  within  thy  silent  gprove 
The  pheasant  now  may  perph,  the  Imre  may  rove  ; 
The  knight,  who  anns  unerring  from  a&r, 
Th*  adventurous  knight,  now  quits  the  sylvan  war  t 
Thy  brinded  boars  may  slumber  undismay'd. 
Or  grunt  secure  beneath  the  chesnut  shade. 
Inconstant  Orleans  (still  we  mourn  the  day. 
That  trusted  Orleans  with  imperial  sway) 
Far  o'er  the  Alps  our  helpless  monarch  sends. 
Far  from  the  call  of  his  desponding  friends. 
Such  are  the  terms,  to  gain  Britannia's  grace ! 
And  such  the  terrours  of  the  Brunswick  race  1 

Was  it  for  this  the  Sun's  whole  lustre  feil'd. 
And  sudden  midnight  o'er  the  Moon  prevailVl  1 
For  this  did  Heaven  display  to  mortal  eyes 
Aerial  knights  and  combats  in  the  skies ! 
Was  it  for  this  Northumbrian  streams  lodk'd  red ! 
And  Thames  driv*n  backward  show*d  his  secret  bed  i 
False  auguries !  th'  insulting  victor's  scorn ! 
Ev'n  our  own  prodigies  ag^nst  us  turn  ! 
O  portents  conrtrued  on  our  side  in  vain ! 
Let  never  Tory  trust  ecfipse  again ! 
Run  dear,  ye  foiintatns !  be  at  peace,  ye  does ! 
And,  Thames,  henceforth  to  thy  green horders  rise! 

To  Rome  then  must  the  rojil  wanderer  go. 
And  fell  a  suppliant  at  the  papal  toe  ? 
His  life  in  sloth  inglorious  must  he  wear. 
One  half  in  luxury,  and  one  in  prayer  ? 
His  mind  perhaps  at  length  debauch'd  with  ease^ 
The  profier'd  purple  and  the  hat  may  please. 
Shall  he,  whose  ancient  patriarchal  race 
To  mighty  Nimrod  in  one  hne  we  trace. 
In  solemn  conclave  sit,  devoid  of  thought. 
And  poll  for  pobts  of  feith  his  trusty  vote  t 
Be  summon'd  to  his  stall  in  time  of  need, 
And  with  his  casting  suffrage  fix  a  creed  I 
Shall  he  in  robes  on  stated  days  appear. 
And  English  heretics  curse  once  a  3rear ! 
Garnet  and  Faux  shall  he  with  prayers  invoke, 
Andbegthat  Smithfield  piles  once  more  may  smoke  t 
Forbid  it,  Heaven !  my  soul,  to  ftiry  wrought. 
Turns  almost  Hanoverian  at  the  thought 

From  James  and  Rome  I  feel  my  heart  decline^ 
And  fear,  O  Brunswick,  'twill  be  wholly  thine  ; 
Yet  still  his  share  thy  rival  will  contest. 
And  still  the  double  claim  divides  my  breast 
The  fete  of  James  with  pit]ring  eyes  I  view. 
And  wish  my  homage  were  not  Brunswick^  due : 
To  James  my  passion  and  my  weakness  gmde. 
But  reason  sways  me  to  the  victor's  side. 
Though  griev'd  I  speak  it,  let  the  truth  appear  1 
You  know  my  language,  and  my  heart,  sincere^ 
In  vain  did  felsehood  his  feir  feme  disgrace  ? 
What  force  had  felsehood,  whenhe  show'd  hisfeoarl 
In  vain  to  war  our  boastful  clans  were  led ; 
Heaps  driv*n  on  heaps,  In  the  dire  shuck  they  fled: 
France  shuns  his  wrath,  nor  raises  to  our  tibmmt 
A  second  Dunkirk  in  another  name : 
In  Britain's  fiinds  their  wealth  all  Europe  throws, 
Aud  up  the  Thames  the  world's  abundance  flows: 
Spite  of  feign'd  fean  and  artificial  cries. 
The  pious  town  sees  fif^  churches  rise : 
The  hero  triumphs  as  his  worth  is  known. 
And  sits  more  firmly  on  his  shaken  throne. 

To  my  sad  thought  no  beam  of  hope  appeari 
Through  the  long  prospect  of  suooeedii^  y  • 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


H9 


TICKBUJ9  roms. 


The  son,  wpiriogiohkMmi^t  fmit. 
Shows  all  his  sire :  anothsr  and  the  sama. 
He,  blest  ii^  lorely  Caroliim's  anas, 
To  future  ^les  piopagates  her  cfaiurms  t 
With  pain  and  joy  at  strife,  I  often  trsoe 
The  miogladparaDU  in  each  daughter's  i$o$i 
Half  sickening  at  the  s^t,  too  well  I  spy 
The  father's  spirit  through  the  mother's  ey« : 
In  rain  new  thoughts  of  rage  I  entertain* 
And  strive  to  hate  their  innoeenee  in  vaia. 
Oprincess!  happy  hy  thy  foes confest ! 
Blest  m  thy  husband  !  hi  thy  chiklrea  Meat ! 
As  they  from  thee,  from  them  new  beauties  bam. 
While  Europe  lasts,  shall  Europe's  thrones  «deni. 
Tran^jlanted  to  each  court,  in  times  to  come. 
Thy  smile  celestial  and  unfading  bloom, 
Oreat  Austria's  sons  with  softer  lines  shall  grace. 
And  smooth  the  frowns  of  Bourbon's  hewghty  moe. 
The  fair  descendants  ofthy  sacred  bed. 
Wide-branching  o'er  the  western  worid  shall  sproad, 
Like  the  fam*d  Banian  tree, whose  pliant  shoot 
'To  earthward  bending  of  itself  takes  root. 
Till,  like  their  mother  plant,  ten  thousand  stand 
In  verdant  arches  en  the  £^ile  land ; 
Beneath  her  shade  the  tawny  Indians  rove. 
Or  hunt,  at  Ujrge,  through  the  wide  echoiqg  grove. 

O  thou,  to  whom  these  mournful  lines  I  send. 
My  promised  husband,  and  my  dearest  friend ; 
Smce  Heav^  appoints  this  fevour'd  race  to  reign. 
And  blood  has  dreoch'd  the  Scottish  fields  in  vain ; 
Must  I  be  wretched,  and  thy  flight  partake? 
Or  wilt  not  thou,  for  thy  lov*d  Chloe's  sake, 
Tir'd  out  at  length,  submit  to  fate's  decree } 
If  not  to  Brunswick,  O  return  to  me ! 
Prostrate  before  the  victor's  meroy  bend : 
What  spsires  whole  thousaivls,  may  to  thee  extend. 
Should  blinded  friends  thy  doubtful  conduct  hJame, 
Great  Brunswick's  virtue  shall  secure  thy  fiune : 
Say  these  invite  thee  to  approach  his  throne, 
2nd  own  the  monarch,  Heaven  VQuchsafes  to  own: 
The  -world,  convinced,  thy  reasons  will  approve; 
Say  this  to  them;  but  iw^ar  to  me 'twas  k)ve. 


AN  ODB, 

occASioHsn  BY    HIS    nccetLSNcr   the   barl   of 

STAKHOPB'S  VOTAGB  to  fEANCS,   1718. 

Idem 
Pacis  eraa  mediusque  belli.  Hor. 

Fair  daughter  once  of  Whidsor's  woods ! 
In  safety  o'er  the  rolling  floods, 
Britannia's  boast  fusd  diffliiig'oMne, 
Big  with  the  fiite  of  Europe,  bear. 
May  wfaidB  prcwitious  on  his  way 
The  minister  of  peace  convey; 
Nor  rebel  wave,  nor  rismg  storm, 
Oveat  George's  Ikpild  realms  delbnn. 

Our  vows  are  heard.    Thy  crowded  safls 
Already  swell  with  western  gales  i 
Already  Albion's  coast  retires. 
And  Calais  multiplies  her  spires : 
At  ienj^tb  has  royal  Orleans  prest. 
With  open  arms,  the  well-known  guest ; 
Befbre  in  sacred  friendship  joio'd. 
And  now  in  comisels  for  msLukind : 

Whilst  his  clear  schemes  our  patriot 
And  plans  the  threaten'^  world's  repose. 


I  They  6x  eaeh  haughty  mouvflli*!  dooHi 
I  Aqd  bless  whole  ages  yet  to  OQBie. 
Henceforth  great  Bmnswiek  shall  deevse 
What  flag  must  awe  the  Tyrrhene  sea ; 
From  whom  the  Ttascan  grape  shaU  gloir. 
And  fruitful  Aretbusa  flow. 

See  in  firm  leagues  with  Thames  combine 
The  Seine,  t^  Maese,  and  distant  Bhine ! 
Nor,  Ebro,  let  thy  single  rage 
With  half  the  warring  world  engage. 
Oh!  call  to  mind  thy  thousands  slain. 
And  Almanara'a  fatsj  plahi ; 
While  yet  the  dallic  terrourt  sleep. 
Nor  Biitahi  thunders  fkom  the  deep. 


PROLOGUE 
Te  TBI  tnrmnsrnr  or  ozpoao, 

1713. 

What  kings  henoefortli  shall  reign,  what  states  h9 
Is  fixt  at  length  by  Anna's  just  decree:  ffie^ 

Whose  brows  the  Muse's  sacred  wreath  shaU  fit 
Is  left  to  yen;  the  arbiters  of  wit 
With  beating  hearts  the  rival  poets  wait. 
Till  you,  Athenians,  shall  decide  their  fiOe ; 
Secure,  when  to  these  learned  seats  they  cone. 
Of  equal  judgment,  and  impartial  doom. 

Poor  is  the  pUyer's  feme,  whose  whole  renowv 
Is  but  the  praise  of  a  capricious  town  j 
While^  with  mock-majesty,  and  fency'd  power. 
He  struts  in  robes,  the  raonardi  of  an  hour. 
Oft  wide  of  nature  must  he  act  a  part. 
Make  love  in  tropes,  hi  bombast  break  his  heafti 
In  turn  and  simile  resign  his  breadi, 
And  rfiyme  and  quibbie  m  the  pangs  of  death. 
We  Mush,  when  plays  like  these  reeeive  applanae^ 
And  laugh,  m  secret,  at  tiie  tears  we  cause  ;  • 
With  honest  scorn  our  own  sucosm  disdsdn, 
A  worthless  honour,  and  inglorioos  gain. 

No  trifling  scenes  at  Oxford  shall  i^»pem> ; 
Well,  what  we  blush  to  act,  may  you  to  hear. 
To  you  our  fam'd,  our  standard  phi3r8  we  bring. 
The  work  of  poets,  whom  you  taught  to  smg : 
Though  crown'd  with  fame,  they  dare  not  thmk  k 
Nor  take  the  laurel  till  bestow'd  by  you.         fdue. 
Great  Cato's  self,  the  gkjry  of  the  stage, 
Who  diarms,  corrects,  exalts,  and  fires  the  age. 
Begs  here  he  may  be  try'd  by  Roman  laws ; 
To  you,  O  fiithen,  he  submits  his  cause ; 
He  resU  not  k  the  paople*s  general  voice, 
TiU  you,  the  senate,  have  confirm'd  his  chokie. 

Fine  is  the  secret,  delicate  the  art. 
To  wmd  the  jpaasionB,  and  command  the  heart : 
For  fimcy'd  nis  to  fcrce  our  teaie  to  flow, 
AimI  make  the  generous  soul  ink>vewith  woet 
To  raise  the  shades  of  heroes  to  our  view; 
Rebuild  faU'n  empires,  and  okl  time  renew. 
How  hard  the  task !  how  rare  the  godhke  rage  I 
None  should  presume  to  dictate  for  the  stagew 
But  such  as  boast  a  great  extensive  mind, 
RnicA^by  Nature,  and  by  Art  refin'd; 
Whairem  the  ancient  stores  their  knowledge  biinfc 
And  tasted  eaity  of  the  Muses'  spring.  ^* 

May  none  pretend  upon  her  throne  to  sit, 
^  such  as,  sprung  fVom  ymi,  are  bom  to  wit : 

S;!!!^-  L^'^.Jf^ll^  lawless  cWm  we  alight: 
Yours  IS  the  old  hereditary  right. 


Digitized  by  CnOOQlC 


THOUGHTS A  FRAGMENT. 


lit 


THOUGHTS 

•OCAHOKtB  8T  THX  SIGHT  OF  AM  ORtClVAL  FICTVM 
OF 

KINO  CHARLES  L 

T4KIV  AT  THB  TIMB  OF  BU  TIllAU 
ITftCltlSSD  TO 

GEORGE  CLARKE,  Emu 

....  Aofimini  pictura  pascit  inani 
Mtdta^emensy  kagogue  hmnectflt  flnmine  ▼ultunu 

Vim. 

Cah  Ibis  be  be !  eoaM  CbaHes,  the  good,  tbe  greaty 
Be  sonk  bj  Hcsven  to  such  m  difmal  state  ! 
Mam  meagre,  }Mde,  neglected,  worn  with  eare ! 
What  ateady  Mdaest,  and  aogust  despair ! 
In  those  miA  eyes  the  grief  of  years  I  traee. 
And  aorrovr  seems  aequainted  with  that  lace. 
Tears,  which  h»  heart  disdained,  from  me  o'erflofw, 
Tims  tosuTfey  God's  substitute  bdow. 
In  solemn  anguish,  and  migestie  woe. 

When  i^Pd  of  empire  if  vmhallowM  handf. 
Sold  by  his  slaves,  and  held  m  impious  bands ; 
Sent  from,  what  oft  had  sweeten*d  amdous  life,  ^ 
His  hapless  children,  md  his  bosom  wife; 
DoemM  for  the  &ith,  plebeian  rage  to  stand, 
AndfiiH  a  "fictim  for  the  gmlty  Ifuad ; 
Then  thus  was  seen,  abandon'd  and  forlorn. 
The  king,  the  ftther,  end  the  saint  to  moum.-^ 
Bow  coukTst  thou,  artist,  then  thy  skill  display? 
Thy  steady  hands  thy  sav^pe  heart  betray : 
Hear  thy  bold  woA  the  sbumM  spectators  iaint, 
Kor  see  unmor'd,  what  thou  tmmovM.could'st  painL 
Wbnt  brings  to  mind  each  various  scene  of  woe, 
Th*  insulting  judge,  the  solemn-mocldnf  show. 
The  horrid  sentence,  and  accursed  blow. 

Where  then,  just  Heaven,  was  thy  unactive  hand, 
Thy  idle  Ihunder,  and  thy  lingering  brand  ! 
Tby  adamantine  shield,  thy  angel  wings. 
And  the  great  genii  of  anotnted  kings ! 
Treason  and  frsod  shall  thus  the  stars  regard ! 
And  injnr'd  virtue  meet  this  sad  reward  ! 
So  sad,  TMOt  like,  can  Timers  bid  records  tell. 
Though  Pompey'bled,  and  poor  Darius  foil. 
All  names  but  one  too  low — that  one  too  high : 
An  parallels  are  wrongs,  or  blasj^my* 

O  Power  Supreme  !  How  secret  are  thy  wa3rs !    t 
Yet  man,  vain  man,  would  tmce  the  mystic  maze, 
With  foolish  wisdom,  arguing,  charge  his  God, 
His  balance  hold,  aud  gruide  his  angry  rod; 
Kew.BMuld  thespheres,  and  mend  the  sky's  design. 
And  sound  tb*  immense  with  bis  jhort  scanty  line. 
Do  thou,  my  sonl,  the  destined  period  wait. 
When  God  shall  solve  ^e  dark  decrees  of  fote, 
ffis  now  uaequal  dispcnsatioDS  cleav. 
And  make  all  wise  and  beautifol  appear; 
When  sufibrii^  saints  aloft  in  beams  shall  glosv 
And  prosperous  irattors  gnash  tbeb  teeth  below. 

9aeh  boding  thou^jbts  did  guilty  conscienoe  dart, 
A  pledge  of  Hell  to  dying  Cromwell's  heart: 
ThsB  this  pide  image  sesmM  f  invade  bis  room, 
Qas'd  him  to  stone,  and  wam'd  bin  to  tbe  tomb. 
While  thunders  roll,  and  nimble  lightnings  play, 
Ahd  the  storm  wings  his  spotted  soul  away,    [mand 
A  blast  more  bounteous  ne'er  did  Heaven  com- 
To  scatter  blesstngs  o'er  the  British  land. 
Hot  that  more  kind,  which  dash'd  the  pride  of  Spam, 
Asd  wfairl'd  her  crusb'd  Armada  round  the  main; 


Not  those  mors  kind,  wbkk  guide  our  floatk« 

towers. 
Waft  gums  and  gold,  and  made  for  India  oust 
That  only  hinder,  which  to  Britain's  shore 
Did  mitres,  crowns,  .and  Stuart's  race  restore. 
Renewed  the  ohurch,  reversed  the  kingdom's  dooo^ 
And  brought  with  Charies  an  Anna  yet  to  come. 

O  Clarke,  to  whom  a  Stuart  trusts  her  reign 
O'er  Albion's  fleets,  and  delegates  tbe  main ; 
Dear,  as  the  fokh  thy  loyal  heart  hath  sworn. 
Transmit  this  piece  to  ages  yet  unborn. 
This  sight  shall  damp  the  raging  ruffian's  breast^ 
The  poison  spill,  and  half-drawn  sword  arrest; 
To  sofo  compassion  sti^bbom  traitors  bend, 
Aad^  one  dcstroy'd,  a  Uiousand  kings  defond. 


Ji  FRAGMENT 

or 

A  POEM  ON  HUNTING. 

Dons  cano  divAm,  laetas  venantibus  artes, 
Auspicio,  Diana,  tuo  Gratiusi 

HoaiBs  and  hounds,  their  care,  their  various  race, 
The  numerous  beasts,  that  range  tbe  rural  cbase, 
The  huntsman^  chosen  scenes,  his  friendly  stars. 
The  laws  and  glory  of  the  sylvan  wars, 
I  first  in  British  verse  preMme  to  raise ; 
A  venturous  rival  of  the  Roman  praise. 
Let  me,  chaste  queen  of  woods,  thy  aid  obtain. 
Bring  here  thy  ligfat-foetnymphs,andsprightlytraln: 
If  of^  o'er  lawns,  thy  care  prevents  the  day 
To  rouse  the  foe,  and  press  the  boundhig  prey, 
Woo  thine  own  Phoebus  in  the  task  to  join. 
And  grant  me  gennis  for  the  bold  design. 
In  this  soft  shade,  O  sooth  the  warrior's  fire. 
And  fit  his  bow-string  to  the  tremblint^  lyre; 
And  teach,  while  thus  their  arts  and  arms  we  sing. 
The  groves  to  echo,  and  the  vales  to  ring. 
♦        ♦♦#♦♦♦« 

Thy  care  be  first  the  various  gifts  to  trace. 
The  minds  and  genius  of  the  latrant  race. 
In  powers  distinct  thedifierent  clans  excel. 
In  sight,  or  swiftness,  or  sagacious  smell ; 
By  wiles  ungenerous  some  surprise  tbe  prey. 
And  some  by  courage  win  the  doubtful  day. 
Seest  thou  the  gaze-hound !  how  with  glance  severe 
From  the  close  herd  he  marks  the  dcstin'd  deer ! 
How  every  nerve  the  greyhound's  stretch  displays, 
The  hare  preventing  in  her  airy  maze ; 
Tbe  luckless  prey  how  treacherous  tumblers  gain, 
And  dauntless  wolf-dogs  shake  the  lion's  mane ; 
O'er  all,  the  blood-hoimd  boasts  superior  skill, 
To  scent,  to  view,  to  tum,«ad  boldly  kill ! 
His  fellows'  vain  alarms  rejects  with  scorn. 
True  to  the  master's  voice,  and  learned  honu 
His  nostrik  oft,  if  ancient  Fame  mng  true, 
Trace  the  sly  felon  through  the  tainted  dew ; 
Once  snuifd,  he  follows  with  unaltered  aim. 
Nor  odours  lure  him  from  the  chosen  game ; 
Deep  mouth'd  he  thunders,  and  iuflam'd  he  viewsi 
Springs  on  relentless,  and  to  death  pursues. 

Some  hounds  of  maimers  vile  (nor  less  we  find 
Of  fops  in  hounds,  than  in  the  reasonrag  kind) 
PufTd  with  conceit  run  gladd'ng  o'er  the  plain, 
And  fipom  the  scent  divert  tbe  wiser  train ; 
For  the  foe's  footsteps  fondly  snuff  their  own. 
And  mar  the  music  with  their  senseless  tone ; 


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112 


mCKELL'S  POEMS. 


Start  9t  Uie  tUrtiogpnf,  or  rasOmgr  wind, 
And,  hot  at  first,  inglorious  lag  behind. 
A  sauntering  tribe !  may  such  mv  foes  disgreoe ! 
CKve  me,  ye  gods,  to  breed  the  nobler  race. 
Nor  grieve  thoa  to  attend,  while  truths  unknown 
I  si^,  and  make  Athenian  arts  our  own. 

Dck  thou  in  hounds  aspire  to  deathless'  fame  ? 
Learn  well  their  lineage  ioA  their  ancient  stem. 
Each  tribe  with  joy  old  rustic  heralds  trace. 
And  sing  the  chosen  worthies  of  their  race ; 
How  his  sire*s  features  in  the  son  werespy'd, 
MThen  Die  was  made  the  rigorous  Ringwuod's  bride. 
Less  sure  thick  lips  the  fate  of  Austria  doom. 
Or  eagle  noses  rulM  almighty  Rome. 

Good  shape  to  Tarious  khids  old  bards  confine. 
Some  praise  the  Greek,  and  some  the  Roman  line ; 
And  dogs  to  beauty  make  as  diffisring  claims. 
Am  Albion's  hymphi,  and  India's  jetty  dames. 
Immense  to  name  their  lands,  to  mark  their  boands. 
And  paint  the  theusand  fiimilies  of  hounds: 
First  count  the  sands,  the  drops  where  oceans  flow. 
Or  Gauls  by  Marlborough  sent  to  shades  below. 
The  task  be  nunc,  to  teach  Britannia's  swains, 
My  mucb-kyWd  coiintry,  and  my  native  plaim. 

Such  be  the  dog,  I  charge,  thou  meanest  to  train, 
His  back  is  crooked,  and  his  belly  plain. 
Of  fillet  stretch'd,  and  huge  of  haunch  behind, 
A  tapering  tail,  that  nimbly  cuts  the  wind ; 
TVusB-thi^'d,  straight-ham'd,  and  fox-like  fiMrm'd 

h»  paw, 
lATge-leg'd,  dry  soPd,  and  of  protended  claw. 
His  flat,  wide  nostrils  snuff  the  savory  steam. 
And  from  his  eyes  he  shoots  pemickms  gleam  ; 
liiddling  his  head,  and  prone  to  earth  his  view. 
With  ears  and  chest  that  dash  the  morning  dew : 
He  best  to  stem  the  flood,  to  leapthe  bound. 
And  charm  the  Dryads  with  his  voice  profound  $ 
To  pay  large  tribute  to  his  weary  lord, 
And  crown  the  sylvan  hero's  plenteous  board. 

The  matron  bitch  whose  womb  shall  beitproduce 
The  hopes  and  fortune  of  th'  illustrious  house. 
Derived  from  noble,  but  from  foreign  seed, 
For  various  nature  loaths  incestuous  breed, 
Is  like  the  sire  throughout    Nor  yet  displease 
Large  flanks,  and  ribs,  to  give  the  teemer  ease. 

In  Spring  let  loose  thy  pairs.      Then  all  things 
prove 
The  stings  of  pleasure,  and  the  pangs  of  love : 
Ediereal  Jove  then  glads,  with  genial  showers. 
Earth's  mighty  womb,  and  strews  her  lap  with 

flowers. 
Hence  juices  mount,  and  buds,  embolden'd,  try 
More  kindly  breezes,  and  a  softer  sky : 
Kind  Venus  revels.     Hark  !  on  every  bough. 
In  lulling  strains  tl^e  feathered  warblers  woo. 
Fell  tigers  soften  in  th'  infectious  flames. 
And  lions  fiiwning,  court  their  brinded  dames : 
Great  Love  pervades  the  deep ;  to  please  his  mate. 
The  whale,    in    gambols,    moves*  his  monstrous 

wei^t, 
Heav'd  by  bis  wayward  mirth  old  Ocean  roars, 
And  scatter  d  navies  bulge  on  distant  shores. 

All  Nature  smiles ;  come  now,  nor  fear,  my  love. 
To  taste  the  odours  of  the  woodbine  grove, 
To  pass  the  eveniuflr  glooms  in  harmless  play, 
And,  sweetly  swearing,  languish  life  away. 
An  altar,  bound  with  recent  dower*,  I  rear 
f^  tipee,  bast  aeason  of  the  various  year  j 


All  hail!  such  days  in  beanteous  older  ran. 
So  swift,  so  sweet,  when  first  the  world  began, 
In  Eden's  bowers,  when  man's  great  sire  aaign^ 
The  names  and  natures  of  the  brutal  kind. 
Then  lamb  and  lion  friendly  walked  their  round. 
And  hares,  undaunted,  lick'd  the  fbndlmg'  hoond  9 
Wondrous  to  tell !  but  when,  with  luckless  band. 
Our  daring  mother  broke  the  sole  command. 
Then  Want  and  Envy  brought  their  meagre  tram. 
ThenWrath  camte  down,and  Death  had  leave  toreign: 
Hence  foxes  earth'd,  and  wolves  abhor'd  the  day. 
And  hungry  churis  ensnaHd  the  nightly  prey  ; 
Rnde  arte  at  first;  but  witty  Want  refln'd 
The  huntsman's  wiles,  and  Famine  fbrm*d  the  mind. 

Bold  Nimrod  fint  the  lion's  trophies  wore. 
The  panther  bound,  and  hmc'd  the  bristlmg  bosr^ 
He  taught  to  turn  the  hare,  to  bay  the  deer. 
And  whisel  the  courser  in  his  mid  career : 
Ah  !  had  he  there  restrain'd  his  tyrant  band ! 
Let  me,  ye  powers,  an  humbler  wreath  demand, . 
No  pomps  I  ask,  which  crowns  and  sceptres  yield. 
Nor  dangerous  laurels  hi  the  dusty  field  ; 
Fast  by  the  forest,  and  the  limpid  spring, 
pive  me  the  warfore  of  the  woods  to  smg. 
To  breed  my  whelps,  and  healtfaftil  press  the  gaoM^ 
A  mean,  inglorious,  but  a  guiltless  name. 

And  now  thy  female  hem  in  ample  womb 
The  bane  of  hares,  and  triumphs  yet  to  come. 
No  sport,  I  ween,  nor  blast  of  sprightly  horn. 
Should  tempt  me  then  to  hurt  the  whelps  unbontL 
Unlock'd,  in  coven  let  her  freely  run. 
To  range  thy  courte,  and  bask  before  the  Sun; 
Near  thy  full  table  let  the  fovourite  stand, 
Strok'd  by  thy  son's,  or  blooming  daughter's  hand. 
Caress,  indulge,  by  arts  the  matron  bride, 
T  improvf  her  breed,  and  teem  a  vigorous  tribe. 

So,  if  small  things  may  be  compared  with  great. 
And  Nature's  works  the  Muses  imitate, 
So,  stretch'd  m  shadea,  and  lull'd  by  muimuriiy 

streams. 
Great  Maro's  breast  reoeiv'd  the  heavenly  dreuMk 
Recluse,  serene,  the  mnauig  prophet  lay. 
Till  thoughts  in  emlnyo,  ripening,  burst  their  way. 
Hence  bees  in  state,  and  fbanung  coursers  oome. 
Heroes,  and  gods,  and  walls  of  lofty  ^lome. 


TO  APOLLO  MAKING  LOVB. 

rtOM  MOMSIBUa  PONTtlfBLLB. 

I  AM,  cry'd  AppUo,  when  Daphne  be  woo^d. 
And  panting  for  breath,  the  coy  vngm  purniad,* 
When  his  wisdom,  in  manner  most  amfrfe,  expceg| 
The  long  list  of  the  graces  his  godship  pceaest : 
I'm  the  god  of  sweet  song,  and  hispirer  of  lays  ; 
Nor  for  lap,  nor  sweet  song,  the  fair  fugitive  stayy  ; 
I'm  the  god  of  the  harp — stop  my  fairest— m  vain  ; 
Nor  the  harp,  nor  the  harper,  ctmld  fi^h  her  again. 
Every  plant,  every  flower,  and  their  virtues  I  know, 
God  of  light  I'm  above,  and  of  physic  below :  [fost; 
At  the  dreadful  word  physic,  the  nymph  fled  nu 
At  the  £Aital  word  physic  the  doubled  her  haste. 


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THE  PHENIX. 


113^ 


Thoa  fond  godof  wiidom,  then,  alter  thy 'phrase, 
Kd  her  tW  the  young  bloom,  and  thy  ravishing  rays, 
Tdl  her  less  of  thy  knowledge,  and  more  of  thy 

charms, 
And,  my  life  for  %  the  damsel  will  fly  to  thy  arms. 


THE  FATAL  Cl^RWSlTT, 

Much  had  I  heard  of  fair  Francelia*t  name. 
The  larish  praises  of  the  bahler,  Fame  : 
I  thoQf^fat  them  such,  and  went  prepared  to  pry. 
And  trace  the  chaimer,  with  a  critic's  eye ; 
Resolv*d  to  find  some  fkult,  before  un8py*d. 
And  disappointed,  if  but  satisfy'd. 

Love  pierc'd  the  vassal  heart,  that  durst  rebel, 
And  where  a  judge  was  meant,  a  victim  fell : 
On  thoae  dear  eyes,  with  sweet  perdition  gay, 
I  ?az'd,  at  once,  my  pride  and  soul  away ; 
All  o'er*I  felt  the  luscbus  poison  run, 
And,  in  a  look,  the  hasty  conquest  won. 

Thus  the  fond  moth  around  the  taper  pla3rs. 
And  sports  ahd  flutters  near  the  treacherous  blaze ; 
Ravished  with  joy,  he  wings  his  eager  flight, 
Nor  dreams  of  ruin  in  so  clear  a  light ; 
He  tempts  his  fate,  and  courts  a  glorious  doom, 
A  bright  destruction,  and  a  shining  tomb. 


TO  A  LADY: 

WrrB   A  DBSCaiPTION   or  TRB   PHENIX. 

Lavish  of  wit,  and  bold,  appear  the  lines. 
Where  QaudJad's  genius  in  the  Pheniz  shmes  ; 
A  thousand  ways  each  brilliant  point  is  tum*d. 
And  tlie  gay  poem,  like  its  theme,  adom'd : 
A  tale  more  strange  ne'er  grac'd  the  poet*s  art. 
Nor  e*er  did  fiction  phiy  so  wild  a  part. 

Each  fabled  charm  in  matchless  Celia  meets, 
The  heavenly  colours,  and  ambrosial  sweets; 
lit*r  lirgin  bosom  chaster  fires  supplies, 
And  beams  more  piefcing  guard  her  kindred  eyes. 
O'erflowtng  wit  th'  imagined  wonder  drew. 
But  fertile  fancy  ne'er  can  reaeh  the  true. 

Now  buds  your  youth,  your  cheeks  their  bloom 
The  untainted  lily,  and  unfolding  rose ;     [disclose. 
Ease  in  your  mien,  and  sweetness  in  your  face. 
You  i^»eak  a  Syren,  and  you  move  a  Grace ; 
Nor  time  shall  urge  these  beauties  to  decay. 
While  virtue  gives,  what  years  shall  steal  away : 
The  fair,  whose  youth  can  boa^  the  worth  of  age. 
In  age  shall  with  the  charms  of  youth  engage ; 
In  every  change  still  lovely,  still  the  same, 
A  £urer  Fbenix  in  a  pxirer  flame. 


A   DESCRIPTION   OP 

THE  PHENIX. 

FROM  CLAUOIAK. 

Im  Qtmost  ocean  lies  a  lovely  isle. 
Where  Spring  still  bfeoms,  and  pnreens  for  ever  smile, 
Which  aees  tfa<  Sun  pat  on  his  first  array, 
And  hears  hit  paotinf  steeds  bring  on  the  day; 
When,  from  the  deep,  they  rush  with  rapid  force. 
And  whirl  aloft,  to  run  thdr  glorious  course ; 
VOL.  XI. 


When  first  appear  the  ruddy  streaks  of  light, 
And  glimmering  beams  dispel  the  parting  night. 

In  these  soft  shades,  ui^rest  by  human  feet. 
The  happy  Phenix  keeps  his  balmy  «eat. 
Far  from  the  world  disjoin'd  j  he  reigns  alone. 
Alike  the  empire,  and  its  king  unknown. 
A  god-like  bird  !  whose  endless  round  of  years 
Out-lasts  the  stara,  and  tires  tbe  circling  spheres; 
Not  us'd  like  vulgar  birds  to  eat  his  fill, 
Or  drink  the  cr^-stal  of  the  mum^uring  rill ; 
But  fed  with  warmth  from  Titan's  purer  ray, 
And  slak'd  by  streams  which  eastern  seat  convey ; 
Still  he  renews  bis  life  in  these  abodes, 
Contemiis  the  power  of  Fate,  and  mates  the  gods. 
His  fiery  eyes  shoot  forth  a  glittering  ray. 
And  round  his  bead  ten  thousand  gbries  play; 
High  on  his  crest,  a  star  celestial  bright 
Divides  the  darkness  with  its  piercing  light ; 
His  legs  are  stain*d  with  purple's  lively  dye. 
His  azure  wings  the  fleeting  winds  out-fly ; 
Soft  plumes  of  cheerful  blue  his  limbs  infold. 
Enriched  with  spangles,  and  bedropt  with  gold. 

Begot  by  none  himself,  begetting  none, 
Sire  of  himself  he  is,  and  of  himself  the  son  ; 
His  life  in  fhiitful  death  renews  his  date. 
And  kind  destruction  but  prolongs  his  fate : 
Ev'n  in  the  grave  new  strength  bis  limbs  receive. 
And  on  the  funeral  pile  begin  to  live. 
For  when  a  thousand  times  the  summer  Sun 
His  bending  race  has  on  the  zodiac  nm, 
And  when  as  oft  the  vernal  signs  have  roll'd. 
As  oft  the  wintery  brought  the  numbing  cold ; 
Then  drops  the  bird,  worn  out  with  aged  cares. 
And  bends  beneath  the  mighty  load  of  years. 

So  falls  the  stately  pine,  that  proudly  grew. 
The  shade  and  glory  of  the  mountain's  brow. 
When  pierc'd  by  blasts,  and  spouting  clouds  o'er- 
It,  slowly  sinking,  nods  its  tottering  head,    [spread, 
Put  dies  by  winds,  and  part  by  sickly  rains. 
And  wasting  age  destroys  the  poor  remains. 

Then,  as  the  silver  empress  of  the  night, 
Cer-clouded,  glimmers  in  a  fsinter  light. 
So  froz'n  with  age,  and  shut  from  light's  supplies. 
In  lazy  rounds  scarce  roll  his  feeble  eyes,  [nown'd. 
And  those  fleet  wings,  for  strength  and  speed  re- 
Scarce  rear  th*' inactive  lumber  from  the  ground. 

Mysterious  aits  a  second  time  create 
The  bird,  prophetic  of  approaching  fote. 
Pil'd  on  a  heap  Sabsean  herbs  he  lays, 
Parch'd  by  his  sire  the  Sun's  intensest  rajrs  ; 
The  pile  design'd  to  form  his  funeral  scene 
He  wraps  in  covers  of  a  fragrant  green. 
And  bids  his  spicy  heap  at  once  become 
A  grave  destructive,  and  a  teeming  womb. 

On  the  rich  bed  the  djring  wonder  lies. 
Imploring  Phoebus  with  persuasive  cries. 
To  dart  upon  him  in  collc^cted  rays. 
And  new-create  him  in  a  'deadly  bteze. 

The  god  beholds  the  suppliant  from  afar, 
And  stops  the  progress  of  his  heavenly  carr.  [bum, 
"  O  thou,"  says  he,  *'  whom  harmless  fires  shall 
Thy  age  the  flame  to  second  youth^  shall  turn. 
An  Infant's  cradle  is  thy  funeral  urn. 
Thou,  on  whom  Heaven  hasfix'd  th'  ambiguous  doom 
To  live  by  ruin,  and  by  death  to  bloom, 
I  Thy  life,  thy  strength,  thy  lovely  form  renew. 
And  with  fresh  beauties  doubly  charm  the  view." 

Thus  speaking,  'midst  the  aromatic  bed 
Ajgolden  beam  he  tosses  from  his  head ; 


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TICKELL'S  POEMS. 


Swift  as  desire,  the  shining  ruin  flies, 
And  straight  devours  the  willing  sacrifice^ 
Who  hastes  to  perish  hi  the  fertile  fire. 
Sink  into  strength,  and  into  life  expire. 

In  flames  the  circUng  odours  mount  on  high. 
Perfume  the  air,  and  glitter  in  the  sky. 
The  Moon  and  Stars,  amazM,  retard  their  flight. 
And  Nature  startles  at  the  doubtful  sight ; 
For,  whilst  the  pregnant  urn  with  fury  glows. 
The  goddess  labours  with  a  mother's  throes. 
Yet  joys  to  cherish,  in  the  friendly  flames, 
The  noblest  product  of  the  skill  she  claims. 

Th'  enhvening  dust  its  head  begins  to  rear, 
And  on  the  ashes  sprouting  plumes  appear ; 
In  the  dead  bird  reviving  vigour  reigns, 
And  life  returning  revels  in  his  veins  : 
A  new-bom  Phenix  starting  from  the  flame. 
Obtains  at  once  a  son's,  and  father's  name^ 
And  the  great  change  of  double  life  displays, 
Jn  the  short  moment  of  one  transient  blaze. 

On  his  new  pinions  to  the  Nile  he  bends. 
And  to  the  gods  his  parent  Urn  commends. 
To  Egypt  bearing,  with  majestic  pride. 
The  bsdmy  nest,  where  first  he  liv'd  and  dy'd. 
Birds  of  all  kinds  admire  th'  unusal  sight. 
And  grace  the  triumph  of  his  infant  flight ; 
In  crowds  unnumber'd  round  their  chief  they  fly, 
Oppress  the  air,  and  cloud  the  spacious  skyi 
Nor  dares  the  fiercest  of  the  winged  race 
Obstruct  his  journey  through  th'  ethereal  space  ; 
The  hawk  and  eagle  useless  wars  forbear, 
For^:o  their  courage,  and  consent  to  fear ; 
The  feather'd  nations' humble  homage  bring. 
And  Mess  the  gaudy  flight  of  their  ambrosial  king. 

Less  glittering  pomp  does  Parthia's  monarch  yield. 
Commanding  legions  to  the  dusty  field ; 
Though  sparkling  jewels  on  his  helm  abound. 
And  ro3ral  gold  his  awful  head  surround  ; 
Though  rich  embroidery  paint  his  purple  vest. 
And  his  steed  bound  in  costly  trappings  drest, 
Plcas'd  in  the  battle's  dreadful  van  to  ride. 
In  graceful  grandeur,  and  imperial  pride. 

Fam'd  for  the  worehip  of  the  Sun,  there  stands 
A  sacred  fane  in  Egypt's  fruitful  lands. 
Hewn  from  the  Theban  mountain's  rocky  womb 
An  hundred  columns  rear  the  marble  dome ; 
Hither,  'tis  said,  he  brings  the  precious  load, 
A  grateful  offering  to  the  beamy  god  ; 
Upon  whose  altar's  consecrated  blaze 
The  seeds  and  relics  of  himself  he  lays. 
Whence  flaming  incense  makes  the  temple  shiue. 
And  the  glad  altars  breathe  perfumes  diviue. 
The  wafted  smell  to  far  Pelusiiim  flies. 
To  chear  old  Ocean,  and  enrich  the  skie9. 
With  nectar's  sweets  to  make  the  nations  smile, 
And  scent  the  seven-fold  channels  of  the  Nile. 

Thrice  happy  Phenjx !  Heaven's  peculiar  care 
Has  made  thyself  th>-selPs  survivmg  heir ; 
By  Death  thy  deathless  vigour  is  supply'd. 
Which  sinks  to  rum  all  the  world  beside ; 
Thy  age,  not  thee,  assisting  Phoebus  bums. 
And  vital  flames  light  up  thy  funeral  urns. 
Whatever  events  have  been,  thy  eyes  survey, 
And  thou  art  fixt,  while  ages  roll  away  ; 
Thou  saw'flt  when  raging  Ocean  burst  his  bed, 
0*er-top*d  the  mountains,  and  the  earth  o'er-spread ; 
When  the  rash  youth  inflam'd  the  high  abodes, 
Soorch'd  up  the  skies,  and  scar'd  the  deathless  gods. 


When  Nature  ceases,  thou  shalt  still  remain. 
Nor  second  Chaos  bound  thy  endless  reign ; 
Fate's  tyrant  laws  thy  happier  lot  shall  brave. 
Baffle  Destmction,  and  elude  the  Grave. 


VERSES 
TO  MRS.  LOWTHER 

ON   HER    MARIUGS. 
PROIC   MEKAOB. 

The  greatest  swain  that  treads  th'  Arcadian  gtove. 
Our  shepherds  envy,  and  our  virgins  love. 
His  charming  n3rmph,  his  softer  fair  obtabSf 
The  bright  Diana  of  our  flowery  plains; 
He,  'midst  the  graceful,  of  superior  grace. 
And  she  the  loveliest  of  the  loveliest  race. 

Thy  fruitful  influence,  guardian  Juno,  shec^ 
And  crown  the  pleasures  of  the  genial  bed  : 
Raise  thence,  their  future  joy,  a  smiling  heir, 
Brave  as  the  father,  as  the  mother  fair. 
Well  may'st  thou  shower  thy  choicest  gifts  on  tbote. 
Who  boldly  rival  thy  most  hated  foes ; 
The  vigorous  bridegroom  with  Alcides  vie^ 
And  the  fiiir  bride  has  Cytherea's  eyes. 


TO  A  LADY; 

WITH   A   PRESENT   OF   PLOWERSW 

The  fragrant  painting  of  our  flowery  fields. 
The  choicest  stores  t^  youthful  Stunmer  yields 
Strepbon  to  fair  Elisa  hath  convey'd, 
The  sweetest  garland  to  the  sweetest  maid. 
O  cheer  the  flowers,  my  fair,  and  let  them  rest 
On  the  Elysium  of  thy  snowy  breast, 
And  there  regale  the  smell,  and  charm  the  view^ 
With  richer  odours,  and  a  lovelier  hue. 
Learn  hence,  nor  fear  a  flatterer  in  the  flower. 
Thy  form  divine,  and  beauty*s  matchless  power : 
Faint,  near  thy  cheeks,  the  bright  carnation  glotR-s, 
And  thy  ripe  lips  out-blush  the  opening  rose  : 
The  lily's  snow  betrays  less  purt  a  light, 
Lost  in  thy  bosom's  more  unsullied  white ; 
And  wreaths  of  jasmine  shed  perfuthefl,  beneath 
Th'  ambrosial  incense  of  tl.y  balmy  breath. 

Ten  thousand  beauties  grrico  the  rival  pair. 
How  fair  the  chaplet,  and  tJie  nymph  how  fair! 
But  ah  !  too  soon  these  fleeting  charms  decay. 
The  fading  lustre  of  one  hastening  day. 
This  night  shall  see  the  gaudy  wrrath  decline. 
The  roses  wither,  and  the  lilies  pine. 

The  garland's  fkte  to  thine  shall  be  apply'd. 
And  what  advance  thy  form,  shall  check  thy  pride: 
Be  wise,  my  fair,  the  present  hour  Improve, 
Let  joy  be  now,  and  now  a  waste  of  love ; 
Each  drooping  Uoom  shall  plead  thy  just  excuse. 
And  that  which  show'd  thy  beauty,  show  its  us«. 


ON  A  LADY'S  PICTURE: 

TO  OILPRSB   LAWSOK,   BSa.. 

As  Damon  Chloe's  painted  form  8urvey*d, 
He  sigh'd,  and  languish'd  for  the  jilting  shade : 
For  Cupid  taught  the  artist  hand  its  grao^ 
And  Venus  wanton'd  in  th9  mimie  fiua* 


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FOURTH  BOOK  OP  LUCAN. 


115 


Now  he  tmroents  a  look  so  fiilsely  fair, 
And  almost  damns,  what  yet  resembles  her ; 
Now  he  devoors  it,  with  his  longing  eyes ; 
Now  sated,  from  the  lotely  phantom  flies. 
Yet  bams  to  look  agam,  yet  looks  again,  and  dies. 
Her  ivory  neck  his  lips  presume  to  kiss. 
And  his  bold  hands  the  swelling  bosom  pren ; 
The  swain  drinks  in  deep  draughts  of  vain  desire, 
Mehs  without  heat,  and  bums  in  iancy*d  fire. 

Shange  power  of  paint !  thou  nice  creator  art ! 
What  k^  inspires,  may  life  itself  impart. 
Strock  with  like  wounds,  of  old,  Pyginalion  pray'd, 
And  hugg'd  to  life  his  artificial  maid ; 
Otsp,  new  PsrgmalioD,  clasp  the  seeming  charms, 
Per^ps  er'n  now  th*  enlivening  image  warms. 
Destined  to  crown  thy  joys,  and  revel  in  thy  arms : 
Thy  arms,  which  shall  with  fire  so  fierce  invade, 
That  die  at  once  diall  be,  and  cease  to  be  a  maid. 


PART  OF  THR 

FOURTH  BOOK  OF  LUCAN. 

Cesar,  having  resolved  to  give  battle  to  Petreius  and 
Afranius,Pompey's  lieutenants  in  Spain,encamped 
near  the  enemy  m  the  ^me  field.  The  behaviour 
of  their  soldiers,  at  their  seeing  and  knowing  one 
another,  is  the  subject  of  the  rollowing  verses. 

Theii  ancient  friends,  as  now  they  nearer  drew. 
Prepared  for  fight  the  wondering  soldiers  knew ; 
Brother  with  brother,  in  unnatural  strife. 
And  the  son  armM  against  the  fether*s  hfe : 
Curst  civil  war  !  then  conscience  first  was  felt. 
And  the  tough  veteran's  heart  began  to  melt. 
Fix'd  in  dumb  sorrow  all  at  once  they  stand, 
Then  wave,'a  pledge  of  peace,  the  guiltless  hand ; 
To  vent  ten  thousand  straggling  passions  move. 
The  stings  of  nature,  and  the  pangs  of  love. 
All  order  broken,  wide  their  arms  they  throw. 
And  run,  with  transport,  to  the  longing  foe : 
Here  the  long-lost  acquaintance  neighbours  claim. 
There  an  old  friend  recalls  his  comrade's  name. 
Youths,  who  in  arts  beneath  one  tutor  grew, 
Rome  rent  in  twain,  and  kindred  hosts  they  view. 

Tears  wet  their  impious  arms,  a  fond  relief. 
And  kisses,  broke  by  sobs,  the  words  of  grief; 
Though  yet  no  blood  was  spilt,  each  anxious  mind 
With  horrour  thinks  on  what  his  rage  design'd. 
Ah !  generous  youths,  why  thus,  with  fruitless  pain, 
Best  ye  those  breasts  ?  why  gush  those  eyes  in  vain  ? 
Why  bUme  ye  Heaven,and  charge  yoitf  guilt  onFate? 
Why  dread  ttie  tyrant,  whom  jrourselves  make  great  ? 
Bidt  he  the  trumpet  sound  ?  the  trumpet  slight 
Bids  he  the  standards  move  ?  refuse  the  fight 
VoQr  generals,  left  by  you,  will  love  again  . 
A  son  and  father,  when  they  're  private  men. 

Kind  Concord,  heavenly  bom  1  whoseblissful  reign 
Hoklt  this  vast  globe  in  one  surrounding  chain. 
Whose  laws  the  jarring  elements  control, 
And  knit  each  atom  close  from  pole  to  pole ; 
Sool  of  the  world  !  and  kfve's  eternal  ^Mring ! 
'This  lucky  hour,  thy  aid  fair  goddess  bring  ! 
This  hicky  hour,  ere  aggravated  crimes 
Retp  guilt  on  guilt,  and  doubly  stain  the  times. 
No  veU  henceforth  for  sin,  for  pardon  none ; 
"TW  know  their  duty,  now  their  friends  are  known. 
Vain  wish !  from  bk)od  short  must  tM  respite  be. 
New  crimes,  by  love  inhanc'd,  this  night  shall  see : 
S«ch  is  the  wiU  of  Fate,  and  such  the  hard  decree. 


Twas  peace.   From  either  camp,  now  void  of  fJear 
The  soldiers  mingling  chearful  feasts  prepare  : 
On  the  green  sod  the  friendly  bowls  were  crown'd. 
And  hasty  banquets  piPd  upon  the  ground  : 
Around  the  fire  they  talk ;  one  shows  his  scars. 
One  tella  what  chance  first  led  him  to  the  wars  I    -' 
Their  stories  o'er  the  tedious  night  prevail. 
And  the  mute  circle  listens  to  the  tale ;  [hate, 

TTiey  own  they  fought,  but  swear  they  ne'er  could  . 
Deny  their  guilt,  and  lay  the  blame  on  Fate ; 
Their  love  revives,  to  make  them  guiltier  grow, 
A  short-liv'd  blessing,  but  to  heighten  woe. 

When  to  Petreius  first  the  news  was  told, 
The  jealous  general  thought  his  legions  sold. 
Swift  with  the  guards,  his  head-strong  fury  drew» 
From  out  h'ls  camp  he  drives  the  hostile  crew ; 
Cuts  clasping  friends  asunder  with  his  sword. 
And  stains  with  blood  each  hospitable  board. 

Then  thus  his  wrath  breaks  out,  **  O  i  lost  to  fame ! 
Oh  !  felse  to  Pompey,  and  the  Roman  name ! 
Can  ye  not  conquer,  ye  degenerate  bands  ? 
Oh  !  die  at  least ;  'tis  all  that  Rome  demarvls. 
What !  will  ye  own,  while  ye  can  wield  the  sword» 
A  rebel  standard,^and  usurping  lord  ? 
Shall  he  be  sued  to  take  you  into  place 
Amongst  his  slaves,  and  grant  you  equal  grace  ? 
What?  shall  my  life  be  begg'd  ?  inglorions thought  1 
And  life  abhorr'd,  on  such  conditions  bought ! 
The  toils  we  bear,  my  friend,  are  not  for  life, 
Too  mean  a  prize  in  such  a  dreadfiil  strife ; 
But  peace  wouM  lead  tu  servitude  and  shame,  '^ 

A  £ur  amusement,  apd  a  specious  name. 
Never  had  man  explor'd  the  iron  ore, 
Mark  d  out  the  trench,  or  rais'd  the  lofty  to^er. 
Ne'er  had  the  steed  in  harness  sought  the  plain, 
Or  fleets  encounter'd  on  th'  unstable  main ; 
Were  life,  were  breath,  with  fame  to  be  compared 
Or  peace  to  glorious  liberty  preferr'd. 
By  guilty  oaths  the  hostile  army  bound. 
Holds  fost  its  impious  faith,  and  stands  its  ground  ; 
Are  you  perfidious,  who  espouse  the  laws. 
And  traitors  only  in  a  righteous  cause  ? 
Oh  shame !  in  vain  through  lutions  far  and  wide. 
Thou  caU'st  the  crowding  monarchs  to  thy  side, 
Fall'n  Pompey  !  while  thy  legions  here  betray 
Thy  cheap-boui^t  life,  and  treat  thy  fame  away.** 

He  ended  fierce.    The  soklier's  rage  returns. 
His  blood  flies  upward,  and  his  bosom  boms. 

So,  haply  tam'd,  the  tiger  bears  his  bands. 
Less  grimly  growls,  and  licks  his  keeper's  hands  ; 
But  if  by  chance  he  tastes  forbidden  gore, 
He  yells  amain,  and  makes  his  dungeon  roar. 
He  glares,  he  fbams,  he  aims  a  desperate  bound. 
And  his  pale  master  flies  the  dangerous  ground. 

Now  deeds  are  done,  which  man  might  charge 
On  stubborn  Fate,  or  undieceming  Night,      [aright 
Had  not  their  guilt  the  lawless  soldiers  known. 
And  made  the  whole  malignity  their  own. 
The  beds,  the  plenteous  tables,  float  with  gore. 
And  breasts  are  stabb'd,  that  were  embrac'd  before-: 
Pity  awhile  their  hands  finom  slaughter  kept; 
Inward  they  groan'd,  and,  as  they  drew,  they  wept : 
But  every  blow  their  wavering  rage  assures^ 
In  murder  hardens,  and  to  blood  inures,     [descry. 
Crowds  charge  on  crowds,  nor  friends  their  firieods 
But  sires  by  sons,  and  sons  by  fathers  die. 
Black,  monstrous  rage  !  each,  with  victorious  cries. 
Drags  his  slain  friend  before  the  general's  eyes. 
Exults  in  guilt,  that  throws  the  only  shame 
On  Pompey's  cause,  and  blots  the  Roman  name. 


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TICKELL'S  POEMS. 


THB   Pilar  BOOK   OF 

HOMER'S  ILIAD. 


THE   DEDICATION. 

Wbbn  I' first  entered  upon  thii  transktion,  I  ^as 
ambitioiu  of  dedicating  it  to  the  earl  of  Halifax ; 
but  being  prevented  from  doing  myself  thilt  honour, 
by  the  unspeakable  lots  which  our  coun^  hath  bus- 
tamed  m  the  death  of  that  ejctraordinary  person,  I 
hope  I  shall  not  be  blamed  for  presuming  to  make  a 
dedication  of  it  to  his  memory.  The  greatness  of 
his  name  will  justify  a  practice  altogether  nnoom- 
mon,  and  may  gain  favour  towards  a  work,  which 
(if  it  had  deserved  his  patronage)  is  perhaps  the  only 
one  inscribed  to  his  lordship,  that  will  escape  being 
rewarded  by  him.  ^ 

I  might  have  one  advantage  from  such  a  dedi- 
cation, that  nothing,  I  could  say  in  it,  would  be 
suspected  of  flattery.  Besides  that  the  world  would 
take  a  pleaBure  in  hearing  those  things  Baid  of  this 
great  roan,  now  he  is  dead,  which  he  himself  would 
have  been  offended  at  when  living..  But  though  I 
am  sensible,  so  amiable  and  exalted  a  character 
would  be  very  acceptable  to  the  public,  were  I  able 
to  draw  it  in  its  full  extent ;  I  should  be  censured 
very  deservedly,  should  1  venture  upon  an  under- 
taking, to  which  1  am>  by  no  means  equaL 

His  consummate  knowledge  in  all  kinds  of  busi- 
ness, his  winning  eloquence  in  public  assemblies, 
his  active  zeal  for  the  good  of  his  country,  and  the 
share  he  had  in  conveying  the  supreme  power  to  an 
illustrious  family  famous  for  being  friends  to  man- 
kind, are  subjects  easy  to  be  enlarged  upon,  but 
incapable  of  being  exhausted.  Ihe  nature  of  the 
fo^owing  performance  more  directiy  leads  me  to 
lament  the  misfortune,  which  hath  befallen  the 
learned  world,  by  the  death  of  so  generous  and  nni- 
vcrsal  a  patron. 

He  rested  not  in  a  barren  admiration  of  the  polite 
arts,  wberein  lie  himself  was  so  great  a  master ; 
but  was  acted  by  that  humanity  they  naturally 
inspire:  which  gave  rise  to  many  excellent  wri- 
ters, who  have  cost  a  light  upon  the  age  in  which 
he  lived,  and  will  distinguish  it  to  posterity.  It  is 
well  known,  that  very  few  celebrated  pieces  have 
been  published  for  several  years^  but  what  were 
cither  promoted  by  his  encouragement,  or  supported 
by  his  approbation,  or  recompensed  by  his  bounty. 
And  if  the  sitccefision  of  men,  who  excel  in  most  of 
the  refined  arts  should  not  continue ;  though  some 
may  impute  it  to  a. decay  of  genius  in  our  country- 
men ;    those,  who  are  unaoqiiainted  with  his  lord- 


ship*s  character,  will  know  more  justiy  how  tm 
account  for  it. 

Tlie  cause  of  liberty  will  receive  no  small  advan- 
tage in  future  times,  when  it  shall  be  observed  that 
the  earl  of  Halifuc  was  one  of  the  patnots  who  wei* 
at  the  head  of  it  $  and  that  most  of  those,  who  were 
eminent  in  the  several  parts  of  polite  or  useful  kara- 
ing,  were  by  his  influence  and  nramplp  engaged 
in  the  same  interest 

1  hope  therefore  the  public  will  excuse  my  ambs- 
tioD  for  thus  intruding  into  the  number  of  those 
applauded  men,  who  have  paid  him  this  kind  of 
homage:  especially  since  1  am  also  prompted  to 
it  by  gratitude,  for  the  protection  with  which  he  had 
begun  to  honour  me ;  and  do  it  at  a  time,  when  ba 
cannot  suffer  by  the  importunity  of  my  acknowledg- 
ments. 


TO  THE  RBABBB. 

I  MVrr  infbrm  the  reader,  that  when  I  began  thiB 
first  book,  I  had  some  thoughts  of  translating  tfaa 
whole  niad :  but  had  the  pleasure  of  being  diverted 
from  that  design,  by  finding  the  work  was  fidlen 
hito  a  moch  abler  hand.  I  would  not  therefore  be 
thought  to  havt*  any  other  view  in  publishing  tMs 
soiaU  specimen  of  Homer^s  Iliad,  than  to  bespeak,  if 
possible,  the  fovour  of  the  publie  to  a  translation  of 
Homer*s  Odysseis,  wherein  I  have  already  made 
some  progress. 


THE  FIRST  BOOK  OF  THE  ILIAD. 

AcHiLLRs*  fiital  wrath,  wh*»nce  discord  rose, 
That  brought  the  sons  of  Greece  unnumber*d  woes, 
()  goddess,  sirnr.     Full  many  a  hero's  ghtist 
Was  driven  untimely  to  th*  infernal  coa>;t. 
While  in  promiscuotix  heaps  their  hndirs  lay^ 
A  fi'ast  for  dogs,  rimI  every  bird  of  prey. 
So  did  the  sire  of  gods  and  men  fulfil 
His  stedfost  purpose,  and  almighty  will ; 
What  time  the  haughty  chiefs  their  jaiv  begun, 
Atridcs,  king  of  men,  and  Peleus'  godlike  son. 

What  god  in  strife  the  princes  did  engage } 
Apollo  biuning  with  vmdictive  rage 
A^inst  the  scornful  king,  whose  impinits  pride 
His  priest  dishonoured,  and  his  power  deiy'd. 
Hence  swift  contagion,  by  the  ^*8  commands, 
Swept  thro' the  camp,  and  thinned  the  Grecian  bands. 

For,  wealth  immense  the  holy  Chryses  bore, 
(His  daughter's  ransom)  to  the  tented  shore : 
His  sceptre  stretrhhig  forth^the  golden  rod. 
Hung  round  with  hallow*d  garlands  of  hb  god. 
Of  all  the  hurt,  of  every  princely  chief. 
But  fir>t  of  Atreus'  sons  he  begg'd  relief:    , 


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117 


**  Great  Atreni' sons  and  wariiks  Ore^  attend. 
8q  may  th*  immortal  gods  your  cauae  bef riend. 
So  may  jrou  Priam'k  lofty  bulwarks  bum, 
And  rich  in  gisLthfii'd  spoils  to  Greece  return, 
As  for  these  gifts  my  daughter  you  bestour, 
And  reverence  due  to  great  ApoUo  show, 
Jowe*9  fiiTourite  offiipring,  terrible  in  war, 
Who  sends  his  shafts  unerring  from  afar.' 

Hioughout  the  host  consenting  murmurs  rise, 
Tbe  priest  to  reverence,  and  give  back  the  prize ; 
When  the  great  king,  incens*d,  his  silence  broke 
bi  words  reproachful,  and  thus  sternly  spoke : 

Hence,  dotard,  from  my  sight    Nor  ever  more 
i^>proach,  I  warn  thee,  this  forbidden  shore ; 
hek.  thou  stretch  forth,  my  fury  to  restrain, 
The  wreath*  And  sceptre  of  thy  god,  in  vain. 
The  captive  maid  I  never  will  resign, 
Till  age  overtakes  her,  1  have  vow'd  her  mine. 
To  distant  Argon  shall  the  fair  be  led  : 
She  shall ;  to  ply  the  kxmi,  and  grace  my  bed. 
Begone,  ere  evil  intercept  thy  way. 
H^ice  on  thy  life :  nor  urge  roe  by  thy  stay." 

He  ended  frowning.    Speechless  and  dismayed. 
The  aged  sire  his  stem  command  obey'd. 
Silent  he  pass'd,  amid  the  deafening  roar 
Of  tumbling  billows,  on  the  lonely  shore; 
Far  from  the  camp  he  passed:  then  suppliant  stood; 
And  thns  the  hoary  priest  invok'd  his  god : 

"  Dread  warrior  with  the  silver  bow,  give  ear. 
Patron  of  Cbrysa  and  of  Gila,  hear. 
To  thee  the  guard  of  Teoedos belongs; 
Propitious  Smintheus  !  Oh  !  redress  my  wrongi* 
If  e'er  withm  thy  fiwie,  with  wreaths  adora'd. 
The  £at  of  bulls  and  well-fed  goats  I  bum'd, 
O  •  hear  my  prayer.    Let  Greece  thy  fury  know. 
And  with  thy  shafts  avenge  thy  servant's  woe." 

ApoUo  heard  his  injured  suppliant's  cry. 
Down  rush'd  the  vengeful  warrior  from  the  sky ; 
Across  his  breast  the  glittering  bow  he  slung, 
And  at  his  back  the  well-stor*d  quiver  hung : 
(His  arrows  rattled,  as  he  urgM  his  flight) 
In  ckxids  he  flew,  conceal  d  from  mortal  sight; 
Then  took  his  stand,  the  well-aim'd  shaft  to  throw ; 
Fierce  sprung  the  string,  and  twang'd  the  silver  bow. 
"Die  dugs  and  mules  his  first  keen  arrow  slew ; 
Amid  the  ranks  the  next  more  fiital  flew, 
A  deathful  dart     The  funeral  piles  around 
For  ever  bl^'d  on  the  de\'oted  ground. 

Nine  days  entire  he  vex'd  th*  erabattied  host. 
The  tenth,  Achilles  through  the  wiodinjir  coast 
SuinmonM  a  council,  by  the  queen's  comuiand 
Who  wields  Heaven's  sceptre  in  her  snowy  hand ; 
She  moum'd  her  favourite  Greeks,  who  now  enclose 
The  hero,  swiftly  speaking  as  he  rose: 

**  What  now,  O  Atreus'  son,  remains  in  view. 
But  o'er  the  deep  our  wanderings  to  renew, 
Doom*d  to  destruction,  while  our  wasu^  powers 
The  sword  and  pestilence  at  once  devours  ? 
Why  haste  we  not  some  prophet's  skill  to  prove. 
Or  seek  by  dreams  ?  (for  dreams  descend  from  Jove. ) 
•What  moves  Apollo's  rage  let  him  expl^n, 
What  vow  withheld,  what  hecatomb  unslain  t 
And  if  the  bloud  of  lambs  and  goats  can  pay 
The  price  for  guilt,  and  turn  this  curse  away  ?" 

Thus  he.     And  next  the  reverend  Calchas  rose, 
Thetr  gmde  to  Ilton  whom  the  Grecians  chose ; 
The  prince  of  augurs,  whose  enlightened  eye 
Could  things  past,  present,  and  to  come,  descry : 


Such  wisdom  Phcebus  gave.    He  thus  began, 
His  speech  addressing  <o  the  godlike  man : 

"  Me  then  command'st  thou,  lov'd  of  Jb^,  to  show 
What  moves  the  god  that  bends  the  dreadful  bow? 
First  plight  thy  faith  thy  ready  help  to  lend, 
By  words  to  M  me,  or  by  arras  defend. 
For  I  foresee  his  rage,  whose  ample  sway 
The  Argian  powers  and  sceptred  chiefs  obey. 
The  wrath  of  kings  what  subject  can  oppose  ? 
Deep  in  their  brents  the  smother'd  vengeance  glows^ 
Still  watchful  to  distroy.     Swear,  valiant  youth, 
Swear,  wilt  thou  guard  me,  if  I  speak  the  truth?'* 

To  this  Achilles  swift  replies:  **  Be  bold. 
Disclose,  what  Phoebus  tells  thee,  uncontroi'd. 
By  him,  who,  listenmg  to  thy  powerful  prayer. 
Reveals  the  secret,  I  devoutly  swear. 
That,  while  these  eyes  behold  the  light,  no  hand 
Shall  dare  to  wrong  thee  oft  this  crowded  strand. 
Not  Atreus'  son :  though  now  himself  he  boast 
The  king  of  men,  and  sovereign  of  the  host." 

Then  boldly  he.     "  Nor  don  the  god  complam 
Of  vows  withheld,  or  hecatombs  unslaiiL 
Chiyseis  to  her  awftd  sire  refiis'd. 
The  gifb  rejected,  and  the  priest  abus'd. 
Call  down  these  judgments,  and  fbr  more  they  call, 
Just  ready  on  th'  exhausted  camp  to  fall ; 
Till  ransom-free  the  damsel  is  bcstow*d. 
And  hecatombs  are  sent  to  sooth  the  god. 
To  Chrysa  sent     Perhaps  Apollo's  rage 
The  gifts  may  expiate,  and  the  priest  assuage." 

He  spoke  and  sat     When,  with  an  angry  frown. 
The  chief  of  kings  upstarted  from  his  throne. 
Disdain  and  vengeance  in  his  bosom  rise, 
Ixmr  in  his  brows,  and  sparkle  m  his  eyes : 
Full  at  the  priest  their  fiery  orbs  he  bent. 
And  all  at  once  his  fiiry  found  a  i^ent 

"  Augur  of  ills,  (for  never  good  to  me 
Did  that  most  inau^>ibious  voice  decree) 
For  ever  ready  to  denounce  my  woes, 
When  Greece  is  punish'd,  I  am  still  the  cause; 
And  now  when  Phcebus  spreads  his  plagues  abroad. 
And  wastes  our  camp,  'tis  I  provoke  the  god, 
Because  my  blooming  captive  I  detain. 
And  the  larige  ransom  is  prodnc'd  in  vain. 
Pond  of  the  maid,  my  queen,  in  beauty's  pride. 
Ne'er  cbarm'd  me  more,  a  virgin  and  a  bride ; 
Not  Clytssmneatra  boasts  a  nobler  race, 
A  sweeter  temper,  or  a  lovelier  &ce. 
In  works  of  female  skill  hath  more  command. 
Or  guides  the  needle  with  a  nicer  hand. 
Yet  she  shall  go.    Tliefsir  our  peace  shall  bay : 
Better  I  suffer,  than  my  people  die. 
But  mark  me  well.    See  instantly  prepared  ' 

A  full  equivalent,  a  new  reward. 
Nor  is  it  meet,  while  each  enjoys  his  share. 
Your  chief  shoukl  lose  his  portion  of  the  war  t 
In  vain  your  chief;  whilst  the  dear  prize,  I  boast, 
|s  wrested  from  me,  and  fbr  ever  k«t," 

To  whom  the  pwift  pursuer  quick  replv'd : 
*^  Oh  sunk  in  avarice,  and  swolnwith  pnde  ! 
How  shall  Uie  Greeks,  though  large  of  soul  they  W, 
Collect  their  sever'd  spoilfi,  a  heap  for  thee 
To  search  anew,  and  cull  the  choicest  share 
Amid  the  mighty  harvest  of  the  war  ? 
Tlien  yield  thy  captive  to  the  god  resign 'd, 
Assur'd  a  tenfold  recompense  to  find. 
When  Jove*s  decree  shadl  throw  proud  llion  down. 
And  give  to  plunder  the  devoted  town." 


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TICKELL'S  POEMS. 


"  Think  not,"  Atrides  answerM,  "though  thou 
Graceful  in  beauty,  Uke  the  powers  dhrioe,  [shine, 
Think  not,  thy  wiles,  in  specious  words  convc3^d, 
%oip  i|s  <6i9n  purpose  shsdl  my  soul  dissuade. 
Must  I  flone  bereft  sit  down  with  shame, 
And  ^o^  insulting  keep  thy  captive  dame? 
If,  as  I  ask,  the  large-soul'd  Greeks  consent 
Full  recompense  to  give,  I  stand  content 
If  not :  a  prize  I  shall  myself  decree. 
From  him,  or  him,  or  else  perliaps  firam  thee. 
While  the  proud  prince,  despoil'd,  shall  rage  in  vain. 
But  break  we  here.    The  rest  let  tbne  escplam. 
Launch  now  a  well-trim'd  galley  firom  the  shore, 
Witli  hands  experienc'd  at  the  bending  oar : 
Enclose  the  hecatomb ;  and  then  with  care 
To  the  .high  deck  convey  the  captive  fair. 
The  sacred  bark  let  sage  Ulysses  giude, 
Or  i\jax,  or  Idomeneus*,  preskie : 
Or  thou,  O  mighty  man,  the  chief  shalt  be. 
And  who  more  fit  to  soothe  the  god  than  thee  V 

"  Shameless,  and  poor  of  soul,"  the  prince  replies. 
And  on  the  monarch  casts  his  scornful  eyes, 
**  ^Tiat  Greek  henceforth  will  march  at  thy  com- 
In  search  of  danger  on  the  doubtftil  strand  ?  [mand 
Who  in  the  fiace  of  day  provoke  the  fight. 
Or  tempt  the  secret  ambush  of  the  night  ? 
Not  I,  be  sure.     Henceforward  I  am  free. 
For  ne'er  was  Priam's  house  a  ibe  to  me. 
Far  from  tlieir  inroads,  in  ray  pastures  feed 
The  lowmg  heifer,  and  the  pamper'd  steed. 
On  Phthia's  hills  our  fruits  securely  grow, 
And  ripen  careless  of  the  distant  foe. 
Between  whose  realms  and  our  Thessalian  shore 
Unnumber'd  mountains  rise,  and  bilkms  roar. 
For  thine,  and  for  thy  baffleid  brother's  fame. 
Across  those  seas,  diadawfnl  man,  I  came ; 
Yet,  insolent !  by  arbitrary  sway 
Thou  talk'st  of  seizing  on  my  rightful  prey, 
The  prize  whose  purchase  toiis'and  dangers  cost, 
And  given  by  suffrage  of  the  Grecian  host. 
What  town,  when  sacked  by  our  victorious  bands, 
But  still  brought  wealth  to  those  rapacious  hands  ? 
\ro  me,  ^hus  scom'd,  contented  dost  thou  field 
My  share  of  blood  in  the  tumultuous  field  ; 
But  still  th^  flower  of  all  the  spoil  is  thine ;     ^ 
Ther^  claim'st  thou  noost.     Nor- o'er  dkl  I  repine. 
Whate'er  was  giv'n  I  took,  and  thought  it  best, 
With  slaughter  tir'd,  and  panting  after  rest 
To  Phthia  now,  for  I  shall  fight  no  more, 
My  ships  their  crooked  prows  shall  turn  fVom  shore. 
When  1  am  scom'd,  I  think  I  well  foresee 
"Uliat  spoilt  and  pillage  will  be  won  by  thee. ' 

"  Hence  !'*  cry'd  the  monarch,  "  hence  !  without 
fcteJay," 
Think  not,  vain  man  !  my  vok»  shall  urge  thy  stay* 
Others  thou  leav'st,  to  the  great  cause  inclined, 
A  league  of  kings  thou  leav'st,  and  Jove  behind. 
Of  all  the  chiefe  dost  thou  oppose  me  most : 
Outrage  and  uproar  are  thy  only  boast 
Discord  and  jars  thy  joy.     But  learn  to  know. 
If  thou  art  strong,  'tis  Jove  hath  made  thee  so. 
Go,  at  thy  pleasure.    None  will  stop  thy  way. 
Go,  bid  thy  base-bom  Myrmidons  (Aey. 
Thou,  nor  thy  rage,  shall  my  resolves  subdue ; 
I  fix  my  purpose,  and  my  threats  renew. 
Snce  'tis  decreed  ^must  the  maid  restore, 
A  ship  shall  waft  her  to  th*  offended  power  ; 
But  ^r  Briseis,  thy  alkitted  prize. 
Myself  will  seize,  sjid  seize  before  thy  eyes : 


That  thou  and  each  audacious  man  may  see. 
How  vain  the  rash  attempt  to  cope  with  me,^ 

Stung  to  the  soul,  tumultuous  thoughts  begaa 
This  way  and  that  to  rend  the  godlike  man. 
To  force  a  passive  with  his  falchion  drawn, 
And  hurl  th'  nnperial  boaster  finom  his  throne. 
He  now  resolves :  and  now  resolves  agabi 
To  quell  his  fbry,  and  his  arm  restram. 
While  thus  by  turns  his  rage  and  reason  8way*d, 
And  half  unsheath'd  he  heM  the  flittering  blade; 
That  moment,  Juno,  whose  impartial  eye 
Watch'd  o'er  them  both,  sent  Pallas  from  the  dcy  : 
She  flew,  and  caught  his  yellow  hair  behind, 
(To  him  alone  the  radiant  goddess  shin*d.) 
Sudden  he  tum'd,  and  started  with  surprize ; 
Rage  and  revenge  flashM  dreadful  in  his  eyes. 

Then  thus  with  hasty  words :  "O !  heavenly-bom^ 
Com'st  thou  to  see  proud  Agamemnon's  scorn  ? 
But  thou  shalt  see  (my  sword  shall  make  it  good) 
This  glutted  sand  smoke  with  the  tyrant  s  blood." 

"  To  sooth  thy  soul'*  the  blue-ey'd  maid  replies, 
"  (If  thou  obey  my  voice)  I  left  the  skies,  [mand ! 
Heaven's  queen,  who  fiivours  both,  gave  this  com- 
Suppress  thy  wrath,  and  stay  thy  vengeful  hand. 
Be  all  thy  rage  in  tauntful  words  exprest; 
But  guiltless  let  the  thirsty  falchion  rest 
Mark  what  I  speak.    An  hour  is  on  its  way. 
When  gifts  tenfold  for  this  affront  shall  pay. 
Suppress  thy  wrath ;  and  Heaven  and  me  obey. 

llien  he :  **  I  yield ;  though  with  reluctant  mind. 
Who  yields  to  Heaven  shall  Heaven  propitious  find.*' 
The  silver  hilt  close-grasping,  at  the  word, 
Deep  in  the  sheath  he  plung'd  his  mighty  sword. 
The  goddess,  turning,  darted  from  his  sight. 
And  reach'd  Olympus  in  a  moment's  fli^t 

But  fierce  Achilles,  in  a  thundering  tone. 
Throws  out  his  wrath,  and  goes  impetuous  on : 

"  Valiant  with  wine,  and  furious  from  the  bowl  * 
Thou  fieroe-look'd  talker  with  a  coward  soul ! 
War's  glorious  peril  ever  slow  to  share : 
Aloof  thou  view'st  the  field ;  for  Death  is  there, 
'Tis  greater  far  tliis  peaceful  camp  to  sway, 
And  peel  the  Greeks,  at  will,  who  disobey  : 
A  tyrant  lord  o'er  slaves  to  earth  debas'd; 
For,  had  they  souls,  this  outrage  were  thy  last 
But,  thou,  my  fix'd,  my  final  purpose  hear. 
By  this  dread  sceptre  solemly  I  swear : 
By  this  (which,  once  from  out  the  forest  torn. 
No  leaf  nor  shade  shall  ever  more  adorn ; 
Which  never  more  its  verdure  must  renew, 
Lopp'd  from  the  vital  stem,  whence  first  it  grew: 
But  given  ^y  Jove  the  sons  of  men  to  awe, 
Now  sways  the  nations,  and  confirms  the  law) 
A  day  shall  come,  when  for  this  hour's  disdain 
The  Greeks  shall  wish  for  me,  and  wish  in  vain ; 
Nor  thou,  though  griev'd,  the  wanted  aid  afford. 
When  heaps  on  heaps  shall  fall  by  Hector's  sword  r 
Too  late  with  anguish  shall  thy  heart  be  torn. 
That  the  first  Greek  was  made  the  public  scorn-" 

He  said.    And,  mounting  with  a  furious  bound. 
He  dash'd  his  studded  sceptre  on  the  ground; 
Then  sat    Afcrides,  eager  to  reply, 
On  the  fierce  champion  glanc'd  a  vengeful  eye. 

'Twas  then,  the  madding  monarchs  to  compose. 
The  Pylhm  prince,  the  smooth-speech'd  Nestor  rose. 
His  tongue  dropp'd  honey.     Full  of  days  was  he  ; 
Two  ages  past,  he  liv'd  the  third  to  see: 
And,  his  first  race  of  subjects  long  decay'd, 
O'er  their  sons'  sons  a  peaoefixl  sceptre  sway'd. 


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119 


««  Alas'for  Greece!^'  he  cries,  "and  with  what  joy 
Shall  Priam  hear,  and  every  son  of  Troy  ! 
That  you,  the  first  in  wisdom  as  in  wars. 
Waste  your  great  souls  in  poor  ignoble  jars ! 
Goto!  yo«i  both  are  young.    Yet  oft  revered 
Greater  tiian  you  have  the  wifce  Nestor  herfrd. 
Their  equals  never  shall  these  eyes  behold : 
GBoeas  the  just,  Pirithous  the  bold, 
Eiadtus,  I>r3ras,  bom  to  high  command. 
Shepherds  of  men,  and  rulers  of  the  land, 
Thoeus  nnrivaVd  in  his  sire*s  abodes, 
And  mighty  Polypheme,  a  match  for  gods. 
They,  greatest  names  that  ancient  story  knows. 
In  mortal  conflict  met  as  dreadful  Ibes : 
Fearless  thro*  rocks  and  wilds  their  prey  pursued. 
And  the  hu^e  double  Centaur  race  subdued. 
With  them  my  early  youth  was  pleas'd  to  roam 
Through  regions,  far  from  my  sweet  native  home ; 
They  calPd  me  to  the  wars.     No  living  hand 
Gcmld  match  their  valour,or  theirstrength  withstand  ; 
Yet  wont  they  oft  my  sage  advice  to  hear. 
Then  listen  both,  with  an  attentive  ear. 
Seize  not  thou,  king  of  men,  the  beauteous  slave, 
Th'  allotted  prize  the  Grecian  voices  gave. 
Nor  thou,  Pellde?,  in  a  threatening  tone 
Urge  hhn  tb  wrath,  who  fills  that  sacred  throue. 
The  king  of  forty  kings,  and  honour*d  more 
By  mighty  Jove,  than  e'er  was  king  before. 
Brave  though  thou  art,  and  of  a  race  divine. 
Thou  must  obey  a  power  more  great  than  thine. 
And  thou,  O  king,  forbear.     Myself  will  sue 
Great  Thetis*  son  his  vengeance  to  subdue  : 
Gwat  Thetis*  valiant  son,  our  country's  boast. 
The  shield  and  bulwark  of  the  Grecian  host" 

"  Wise  are  thy  words,  O  sire,"  the  king  began, 
"  But  what  can  satiate  this  aspiring  man  ? 
Unbounded  power  he  claims  o'er  human-kind. 
And  hopes  for  slaves,  I  trust  he  ne'er  shajl  find. 
Shall  we,  because  the  gods  have  form'd  him  strong. 
Bear  the  lewd  language  of  his  lawless  tongue  !•* 

"  If  aw'd  by  thee,  the  Greeks  might  well  despise 
My  name,"  the  prince,  precipitate,  replies, 
"  In  vaha  thoo  nodd'st  from  thy  imperial  throne. 
Thy  vassals  seek  elsewhere :  for  I  am  none. 
But  break  we  here.    The  fahr,  though  justly  mine, 
With  sword  undrawn  1  purpose  to  resign. 
On  aught  bende,  I  once  for  all  command. 
Lay  not,  I  charge  thee,  thy  presumptuous  hand. 
Come  not  within  my  reach,  nor  dare  advance. 
Or  thy  heart's  blood  shall  reek  upon  my  lancc.^* 

Thus  both  in  foul  debate  prolonged  the  day. 
The  council  broke,  each  takes  his  separate  way. 
Achilles  seeks  his  tent  with  restless  mind  ^ 
Patroclus  and  his  train  move  slow  behind. 

Mean  time,  a  bark  ^^as  haul'd  along  the  sand, 
Twice  ten  selected  Greeks,  a  brawny  band. 
Tug  the  tough  oars,  at  the  great  kmg's  command. 
The  gifts,  the  hecatomb,  the  captive  fair, 
Are  all  intrusted  to  Ulysses'  care. 
They  mount  the  deck.    The  vessel  takes  its  flight, 
Boimds  o'er  the  surge,  aud  lessens  to  the  sight. 

Next  he  ordains  along  the  winding  coast 
By  hallow'd  rites  to  purify  the  host, 
A  herd  of  chosen  victims  they  provide. 
And  cast  their  offiils  on  the  briny  tide. 
Fat  bulls  and  goats  to  great  Apollo  die. 
In  doods  the  savory  steam  ascends  the  sky. 

The  Greeks  to  Heaven  their  solemn  vows  add  rest  j 
^  dire  reven^  roU'd  in  the  monarch's  br^a^ 


Obsequious  at  his  call  two  heralds  stand: 
To  them  in  frowns  he  gives  this  harsh  command. 
'*  Ye  heralds,  to  Achilles'  tent  repair; 
Thence  swift  the  female  slave  Briseis  bear. 
With  arms,  if  disobey'd,  myself  will  come. 
Bid  him  resign  her,  or  he  tempts  his  doom." 

The  heralds,  though  unwillingly,  obey. 
Along  the  sea-beat  shore  they  speed  their  way? 
And,  now  the  Myrmidonian  quarter  past. 
At  his  tent-door  they  find  the  hero  plac'd. 
Disturbed  the  solemn  messengers  he  saw : 
They  too  stood  silent,  with  respectful  awe, 
Before  the  royal  youth,  they  neither  spoke. 
He  guess'd  their  message,  and  the  silence  broker    ' 

"  Ye  miuisters  of  gods  and  men,  draw  near. 
Not  you,  but  him  whose  heralds  ye  appear, 
Robb'd  of  my  right  I  blame.    Patroclus,  bring 
The  damsel  forth  for  this  disdainful  king. 
But  ye,  my  wrongs,  O  hei-aJds,  bear  in  mind^ 
And  clear  mc  to  the  gods  and  all  mankind, 
Ev'n  to  your  thoughtless  king ;  if  ever  more 
My  aid  be  wanted  on  the  hostile  shore. 
Thoughtless  he  is,  nor  knows  his  certain  doom. 
Blind  to  the  past,  nor  sees  the  woes  to  come. 
His  best  defence  thus  rashly  to  forego,  - 
And  leave  a  naked  army  to  the  foe." 

He  ceas'd.    Patroclus  his  dear  friend  obey'd. 
And  usher'd  in  the  lovely  weeping  maid. 
Sore  sigh'd  she,  as  the  heralds  tock  her  hand. 
And  oft  look'd  hack  slow-moving  o'er  the  strand* 

The  widow'd  hero,  when  the  hxr  was  gone. 
Far  from  his  friends  sat  bath'd  in  tears  alone. 
On  the  cold  beach  he  sat,  and  fix'd  his  eyes 
Where  black  with  storms  the  curling  billows  lise. 
And  as  the  sea  wide-rolling  he  surveyed, 
With  out-stretch'd  arms  to  his  fond  mother  pray'd  : 

'*  Since  to  short  life  thy  hapless  son  was  bom. 
Great  Jove  stands  l;>oimd  by  promise  to  adorn 
His  stinted  course,  with  an  immortal  name. 
Is  this  the  great  amends  ?  the  promis'd  fame  ? 
The  son  of  Atreus,  proud  of  lawless  sway, 
Demands,  possesses,  and  ei^oys  my  prey." 

Near  her  old  sire  enthron'd,  she  heard  him  weep 
From  the  low  silent  caverns  of  the  deep  : 
Then  in  a  morning  mifit  her  head  she  rears,  . 
Sits  by  her  son,  and  singles  tears  witji  tears; 
Close  grasps  her  darling's  baud.     "  My  son,"  she 
crie^,  f  eyes  ? 

**  Why  heaves  thy  heart  ?  and  why  overflow  thy 
Oh  tell  me,  tell  thy  mother  all  thy  care, 
I'iiat  both  may  know  it,  am)  that  both  may  share."* 

"  Oh  !  goddess !"  cry'd  he,  witli  au  inward  groaiig 
"  Thou  know'st  it  all :  to  thee  are  all  things  known* 
I'Tetian  Thebes  \^  e  s^ck'd,  their  ransack'd  towen, 
The  plunder  of  a  people,  all  was  ours. 
We  stood  agreed  tbc  booty  to  divide. 
Chryseis  rosy-chec;k'd,  and  glossy-ey'd, 
Fell  to  the  king;  but  holy  Chryses  bore 
Vast  gifts  of  ran^m,  to  the  tented  shore ; 
His  sceptre  stretching  forth  (the  golden  rod 
Hung  round  with  hallow'd  garlands  of  lus  godj 
Of  all  the  host,  of  every  princely  chief. 
But  first  of  Atreus'  sous,  he  begg'd  relief. 
Throughout  the  host  consenting  murmurs  ran. 
To  yield  her  to  the  venerable  man ; 
But  the  harsh  king  deny'd  to  do  him  right. 
And  drove  the  trembling  prpphet  from  his  sight. 
Apollo  heard  his  injur'a  suppliant's  cry, 
And  dealt  his  arrows  through  th'  infected  sky; 


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J  20 


TIGKELL'S  POEMS. 


The  swift  contagion,  sent  by  his  commands, 
Streptthro*  the  camp,  and  thinned  the  Grecian  bands. 
The  gnilty  cause  a  sacred  ausrtir  showed, 
And  I  first  mov'd  to  mitigate  the  god. 
At  this  the  tyrant  stormed,  and  vengeance  vow*d ; 
And  now  too  soon  hath  made  his  threatnings  good. 
Chryseifs  first  with  gifts  to  Chrysa  sent,     ^ 
His  heralds  came  this  moment  to  my  tciit,  \ 
And  bore  Briseis  thence,  my  beauteous  slave, 
Th*  allotted  prize,  which  the  leaguM  Grev-ian.<;  gave. 
Thou  goddess,  then,  and  thou,  1  know,  hast  power, 
For  thine  own  son  the  might  of  Jove  implore. 
Oft  in  my  father's  house  Vye  heard  thee  tell, 
When  sudden  fears  on  Heaven's  great  monarch  fell, 
Thy  aid  the  rebel  deities  o'ercame. 
And  sav'd  the  mighty  Thunderer  fh>m  shame. 
Pallas,  and  Neptune,  and  great  Juno,  bound 
The  sire  m  chains,  and  bem'd  thehr  sovereign  round. 
Thy  voice,  O  goddess,  broke  their  idle  bands, 
And  calPd  the  giant  of  the  hundred  hands, 
The  prodigy,  whom  Hearen  and  Earth  revere, 
Briaieus  nam'd  above,  £geon  here. 
His  father  Neptune  he  in  strength  surpassed; 
At  Jove's  right  hand  his  hideous  form  he  plac'd, 
Proud  of  his  might    The  gods  with  secret  dread, 
Beheld  the  huge  enormous  shape  and  fled. 
Remind  him  then :  for  well  thou  know'st  the  art : 
'  Go,  clasp  his  knees,  and  melt  his  mighty  heart. 
Let  the  driven  Argians,  hunted  o'er  the  plain. 
Seek  the  last  verge  of  this  tempestuous  main : 
There  let  them  perish,  void  of  all  relief, 
My  wrongs  remember,  and  enjoy  their  chief. 
Too  late  with  anguish  shall  his  heart  be  torn. 
That  the  first  Greek  was  made  the  public  scorn." 

Then  she  (with  tears  her  azure  eyes  ran  o'er:) 
"  Why  bore  I  thee !  or  nourish'd,  when  I  bore ! 
Blest,  if  within  thy  tent,  and  free  from  strife. 
Thou  might'st  possess  thy  poor  remains  of  life. 
Thy  death  approaching  now  the  Fates  foreshow ; 
Short  is  thy  destined  term,  and  fiill  of  woe. 
Ill-fated  thou !  apd  oh  unhappy  I !        . 
But  hepee  to  the  celestial  courts  I  fly. 
Where,  hid  in  snow,  to  Heaven  Olympus  swells. 
And  Jove,  rejoicing  in  his  thunder,  dwells. 
Mean  time,  my  son,  indulge  thy  just  disdain : 
Vent  all  thy  rage,  and  shun  the  hostile  plain. 
Till  Jove  returns.     Last  night  my  waves  he  cross'd. 
And  sought  the  distant  Ethiopian  coast: 
Along  the  skies  his  radiant  course  he  iteer'd. 
Behind  him  all  the  train  of  gods  appear'd, 
A  bright  pn)ce88ion.    To  the  holy  feast 
Of  blameless  men  he  goes  a  grateful  guest. 
To  Heaven  he  comes,  when  twice  six  days  are  o'er ! 
Then  shall  his  voice  the  sire  of  gods  implore, 
Then  to  my  lofty  mansion  will  I  pass, 
Founded  on  rocks  of  ever-during  brass : 
There  will  I  clasp  his  knees  with  wonted  art, 
Kor  doubt,  my  son,  but  I  shall  melt  his  heart" 

She  ceas'd :  and  left  him  lost  in  doubtful  care, 
And  bent  on  vengeance  for  the  ravish'd  fair. 

But,  safie  arriv'd  near  Chrysa's  sacred  strand, 
The  sage  U]3r86es  now  advanc'd  to  land. 
Along  the  coast  he  shoots  with  swelling  gales, 
Then  lowers  the  lofty  mast,  and  fiirls  the  sails ; 
Next  plies  to  port  with  many  a  well-tim'd  oar. 
And  drops  his  anchors  near  the  faithful  shore. 
The  bark  now  fix'd  amidst  the  rolling  tide, 
Cbryiei*  follows  her  oqierieiic'd  guMe: 


The  gifts  to  Phoebus  from  the  Grecian  host, 
A  herd  of  bulls  went  bellowing  o'er  th«  coast 
To  the  god's  £uie,  high  looking  o'er  tlie  laud. 
He  led,  and  near  the  altar  took  his  stand. 
Then  gave  her  to  the  J03rful  father's  hand. 

**  AH  hail !  Atrides  sets  thy  daughter  fre^. 
Sends  olTerings  to  thy  god,  and  gifts  to  thee 
But  thou  entreat  the  power,  whose  dreadful  swaT 
Afflicts  his  camp,  and  sweeps  his  host  aw-aj'.  ' 

He  said,  and  gave  her.     The  fond  f.ith;r  suiil'd 
With  secret  rapture,  and  embrac'd  his tliild. 

The  victims  now  they  range  in  chosen  band.^, 
And  offer  gifts  with  unpolluted  hands : 
When  with  loud  >x)ice,  and  arms  up-rcar*d  in  air. 
The  hoary  priest  pref  rr  d  this  powerful  prayrr : 

"  Dread  warrior  with  the  silver  bow,  give  car, 
Patron  of  Chry^  and  of  Cilia,  hear. 
About  this  dome  thou  walk'st  thy  constant  round  : 
Still  have  my  vows  thy  |K>wer  propitious  found.. 
Rous'd  by  my  prayers  ev'n  now  thy  vengeance  bums. 
And  smit  by  thee,  the  Grecian  army  mourns. 
Hear  me  once  more ;  and  let  the  i>uppliant  foe 
Avert  thy  wrath,  and  slack  thy  dreadful  bow." 

He  pray'd  j  and  great  Apollo  heard  his  prayer. 
TTie  suppliants  now  their  votive  rites  prepare : 
Amidst  the  flames  they  cast  the  hallow'd  bread. 
And  heaven-ward  turn  each  victim's  de^n'd  head  ; 
Next  slay  the  fatted  bulls,  their  skins  divide. 
And  from  each  carcase  rend  the  smokiog  hide ; 
On  every  limb  large  rolls  of  fiit  bestow. 
And  chosen  morsels  round  the  offerings  straw : 
Mystenous  rites.     Then  on  the  fire  divine 
The  great  high  priest  pours  forth  the  ruddy  wine; 
Himself  the  offering  bums.    On  either  hand 
A  troop  of  youths,  in  decent  order,  stand. 
On  sharpened  forks,  obedient  to  the  si;^. 
They  turn  the  tasteful  fragments  in  the  fire. 
Adorn  the  feast,  see  every  dish  welUstor'd, 
And  serve  the  plenteous  messes  to  the  board.  [mu!«. 

When  now  the  various  feasts  had  chear'd  their 
With  sparkling  wines  tbcy  crown  the  generous  bowls. 
The  first  libations  to  Apollo  pay» 
And  solemnize  with  sacred  hymns  tlic  day : 
His  praise  in  lo  Psans  loud  they  sing. 
And  sooth  the  rage  of  the  far-shooting  king. 
At  evening,  through  the  shore  dispers'd,  they  sicop, 
Hush'd  by  the  di^nt  roarings  of  the  deep. 

When  now,  ascending  from  the  shades  of  night, 
Aurora  glow'd  in  all  her  rosy  light. 
The  daughter  of  the  dawn :  th'  awaken'd  crew 
Back  to  the  Greeks  enoamp'd  their  course  renew. 
The  breezes  freshen:  for  with  friendly  gales 
Apollo  swell'd  their  wide,  distended,  sails : 
Gleft  by  the  rapid  prow,  the  waves  divide. 
And  in  hoarse  murmurs  break  on  either  side. 
In  safety  to  the  destined  port  they  passed, 
And  fix  their  bark  with  grappling  haulsers  fast ; 
Then  dragg'd  her  farther,  on  the  dry-land  coast, 
Regain'd  their  tents,  and  mingled  in  tiie  host 

But  fierce  Achilles,  still  on  vengeance  bent. 
Cherish  d  his  wratli,  and  madden  d  in  his  tent 
Hi'  assembled  chici^  he  shunned  with  high  diadain, 
A  band  of  kings :  nor  sought  the  hostile  plain ; 
But  long'd  to  hear  the  distant  troops  engage 
The  strife  grow  doubtfiil,  and  the  battle  rage. 

Twelve  days  were  past ;  and  now  th'  etherial  train, 
Jove  at  their  head,  to  Heaven  returned  again : 
When  Thetis,  from  the  deep  prepar  d  to  rise. 
Shot  through  a  big-twoln  wave,  andx>icrc'd  the  skifc 


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ILIAD,  BooE  L 


121 


At  early  mom  tht  readiNl  the  realms  above, 
IV  court  of  gods,  the  residence  of  Jove. 

On  the  top-point  Of  high  Olympus^  crown'd 
With  hills  oo  hills,  hhn  ^r  apart  sl^  Ibund, 
Above  the  resL    The  Earth  beneath  displayed 
(A  boundleas  prospect)  his  broad  eye  survey  d. 
Her  left  band  grasp'd  his  knees,  her  right  she  reared, 
And  touched  with  blandishinent  hb  awful  beard ; 
Then,  suppliant,  with  submissive  voice  implor'd 
OM  Saturn's  son,  the  god  by  gods  ador'd : 

"  If  e*er,  by  rebel  deities  opprest, 
My  aid  reliev'd  thee,  grant  this  one  request. 
Sace  to  short  life  my  hapless  son  was  bom, 
Bo  thou  with  imme  the  scsnty  space  adpm. 
Ponish  the  kti^  of  men,  whose  lawless  sway  ' 
Hath  shamM  the  youth,  and  seized  his  destin'd  prey. 
Awhile  let  Troy  prevail,  that  Greece  may  grieve, 
Aad  doubled  honours  to  my  oflbpring  give.*' 

She  said.    The  god  vouchsaf  d  not  to  reply 
(A  de^  Sttspeoee  sat  in  his  thoughtful  eye) : 
Oaoe  more  around  his  knees  the  goddess  dung, 
And  to  soft  accents  ibrm'd  her  artful  tongue : 

"  Oh  speak.     Or  grant  me,  or  deny  my  prayer, 
lear  not  to  speak,  w^  I  am  doom'd  to  bear  ; 
That  1  may  know,  if  thou  my  prayer  deny, 
Tlie  most  despia'd  of  all  the  gods  am  I." 

With  a  deep  sigh  the  Thunderhig  Power  replies : 
To  what  a  height  will  Juno's  anger  rise  ! 
Still  doth  her  voice  before  the  gods  upbraid 
My  partial  hand,  that  gives  the  Trojans  aid. 
I  grrat  thy  suit.     But.  hence !  depart  unseen, 
And  shun  the  sight  of  Heaven's  suspidotts  queen. 
Bcjlieve  my  nod,  the  great,  the  certain  sign. 
When  Jove  propitious  hears  the  powers  divine  j 
The  agtt  that  ratifies  my  hig^  command, 
llntthusIwiU:  and  what  I  will  riuOl  stand." 
This  said,  his  kingly  brow  the  sire  inclin'd ; 
Thelaige  black  euris  foil  awM  from  behind, 
Thick  shadovhig  the  stem  forehead  of  ^  god : 
Olympos  trembled  at  th*  almighty  nod. 

The  goddess  smil*d :  and,  with  a  sudden  leap, 
From  the  high  mountain  plung'd  into  the  deep. 

Bat  Jove  repair'd  to  his  celestial  towers : 
And,  as  he  rose,  up-roae  the  immortal  powers. 
In  raqks,  on  either  side,  th*  assembly  cast, 
Bow'd  down,  and  did  oteisance  as  he  passed. 

To  him  enthron'd  (for  whispering  she  had  seen 
C^oee  at  his  kocest  the  silver-footed  queen, 
Dsoght^  of  him,  who,  low  beneath  the  tides. 
Aged  and  hoary  in  the  deep  resides) 
Big  with  invectives,  Juoo  sUence  broke, 
And  thus,  opprobious  her  resentments  spoke : 

"  Falfe  Jove  !  what  [goddess  whispering  did  1  see  ? 
0  fond  of  coui»els,  still  conceal'd  from  me ! 
To  me  neglected,  thou  wilt  ne'er  impart 
<^  single  thought  of  thy  close-eover'd  heart." 

To  whom  the  sire  of  gods  and  men  reply'd ; 
"  Strive  not  to  find,  what  1  decree  to  hide. 
I-aborions  were  the  search,  and  vain  the  strife. 
Vain  ev'n  for  thee,  my  sister  and  my  wife. 
The  thoughts  and  counsels  proper  to  declare, 
Nor  god  nor  mortal  shall  before  thee  share : 
Bnt,  what  my  secret  wisdom  shall  ordain, 
Think  not  to  reach,  for  know  the  thought  were  vain." 

"  Dread  Saturo^s  son,  why  so  severe  ?"  replies 
The  goddess  of  the  lains^  naajestic  eyes. 
"Thy  own  dark  thoughts  at  pleasure  hide,  or  show; 
^Ver  have  I  ask'd,  nor  naw  a^rt  to  know. 


Nor  yet  my  fears  are  vain,  nor  came  unseen 
To  thy  high  throne,  the  silver-footed  queen. 
Daughter  of  him,  who  Ipw  beneath  the  tid^ 
Aged  and  hoary  in  the  deep  resides. 
Thy  nod  assures  me  she  was  not  dcny'd  : 
And  Greece  must  perish  ^r  a  madman's  pride." 

To  whom  the  god,  whose  hand  the  tempest  forms. 
Drives  clouds  on  clouds,  and  blackens  Heaven  with 

storms. 
Thus  wrathful  answer'd :  "  Do^  thou  still  complain? 
Perplev'd  for  ever,  and  perplex'd  in  vain ! 
Should'st  thou  disclose  the  dark  event  to  come  ! 
How  wilt  thou  stop  the  irrevocable  doom  ! 
This  serves  the  more  to  sharpen  my  disdain ; 
.\nd  woes  foreseen  but  lengthen  out  thy  pain. 
Be  silent  then.     Disputenot  my  command; 
Nor  tempt  the  force  of  this  superior  hand ; 
Lest  all  the  gods,  around  thee  leagued,  engage 
In  vain  to  shield  thee  from  my  kindled  rage." 

Mute  and  abash'd  she  sat  without  reply. 
And  downward  tum'd  her  large  majestic  eye. 
Nor  further  durst  the  offended  sire  provoke : 
The  gods  around  him  trembled,  as  be  spoke. 
When  Vulcan,  for  his  mother  sore  distress'd, 
Tura'd  orator,  and  thus  his  speech  addrest ; 

"  Hard  is  our  fate,  if  men  of  mortal  line 
Stir  up  debate  among  the  powers  divine. 
If  things  on  Earth  disturb  the  blest  abodes. 
And  mar  th*  ambrosial  banquet  of  the  gods ! 
Then  let  my  mother  once  be  ral'd  by  me. 
Though  much  more  wise  than  I  pretend  to  be ; 
Let  me  advise  her  ^lenrto  obey, 
And  due  submission  to  our  fother  {)ay. 
Nor  force  again  his  gloomy  rage  to  rise, 
lU-tim'd,  and  damp  the  revds  of  the  skies. 
For  should  he  toss  her  from  th'  Ol3rmpian  hill. 
Who  could  resist  the  mighty  monarch's  will  ? 
Then  thou  to  love  the  Tliunderer  reconcile. 
And  tempt  him  kindly  on  us  all  to  smile," 

He  said :  and  in  his  tottering  hands  up-bore 
A  double  goblet,  fill'd,  and  foaming  o'er. 

"  Sit  down,  dear  mother,  with  a  heart  content. 
Nor  urge  a  more  disgraceful  punishment. 
Which  if  great  Jove  inflict,  poor  I,  dismay'd. 
Must  stand  aloof,  nor  dare  to  give  thee  aid. 
Great  Jove  shall  reign  for  ever,  uncontrol'd: 
Remember,  when  I  took  thy  part  of  old. 
Caught' by  the  heel  he  swung  me  round  on  high. 
And  li^dlung  hurl'd  me  from  tli'  ethereal  sky : 
From  mom  to  noon  I  foil,  from  noon  to  night ; 
Till  pitch'd  on  Lemnos,  a  most  piteous  sight, 
The  Sintians  hardly  could  my  breath  recall. 
Giddy  and  gasping  with  the  dreadful  falL" 

She  smird :  and,  smiling,  her  white  arm  display'd 
To  reach  the  bowl  her  aukward  son  convey'd. 
From  right  to  left  the  generous  bowl  he  crown'd. 
And  dealt  the  ro^y  nectar  fairly  round. 
The  gods  laugh'd  out,  unweary'd,  as  they  spy*d 
The  busy  skinker  hop  from  side  to  side. 

Thus,  feasting  to  the  full,  they  pass'd  away. 
In  blisftil  banquets,  all  the  live-long  day. 
Nor  wanted  melody.     With  heaveidy  art 
The  Muses  sung;  each  Muse  perform'd  her  pari. 
Alternate  warbling ;  while  the  golden  lyre. 
Touch 'd  by  Apollo,  led  the  vocal  choir. 
The  Sun  at  length  declined,  when  every  guest 
Sought  Im  briglit  palace,  and  withdrew  to  rest ; 
Each  had  his  palace  on  th'  Olympian  hill, 
A  master-piece  of  Vulcan's  matchless  skill* 


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12? 


TICiCELLlS.BOEMS. 


Ev'n  he,  the  god,  who  Heaven's  gieat  sceptie  tways, 
And  frowns  amid  the  lightning's  dreadful  blaze, 
His  bed  of  state  ascending,  lay  compos'd ; 
His  eyes  a  sweet  refreshing  slumber  clos'd : 
And  at  his  side,  all  glorious  to  behold. 
Was  Juno  lodg'd  in  her  alcove  of  gold. 


THE  EARL  OF  WARWICK, 

ON  THB 

DEATH  OF  MR.  ADDISON. 

If,  dimib  too  long,  the  drooping  Muse  hath  stayed. 

And  left  her  debt  to  Addison  unpaid. 

Blame  not  her  silence,  Warwick,  but  bemoan. 

And  judge,  oh  judge,  my  bosom  by  your  own. 

What  mourner  ever  felt  poetic  fires ! 

Slow  comes  the  verse  that  real  woe  inspires : 

Grief  unaffected  suits  but  ill  with  art. 

Or  flowing  numbers  with  a  bleeding  heart 

Can  I  forget  the  dismal  night  that  gave 
My  soul's  b^  part  for  ever  to  the  grave ! 
Hqw  silent  did  his  old  companions  tread. 
By  midnight  lamps,  the  mansions  of  the  dead. 
Through  breathing  statues,  then  unheeded  things, 
Through  rows  of  warriors,  and  through  walks  ofkings! 
What  awe  did  the  slow  solemn  knell  inspire; 
The  pealing  organ,  and  the  pausing  choir; 
The  duties  by  the  lawn-rob*d  prelate  pay'd  ; 
And  the  last  words  that  dust  to  dust  convey'd ! 
While  speechless  o'er  thy  closing  grave  we  bend. 
Accept  these  tears,  thou  dear  departed  friend. 
Oh,  gone  for  ever;  take  this  long  adieu; 
And  steep  in  peace,  next  thy  lov'd  Montague. 
To  strew  fresh  laurels,  let  the  task  be  mme, 
A  frequent  pilgrim,  at  thy  sac  red  shrjne ; 
Mine  with  true  sighs  thy  absence  to  bemoan. 
And  grave  with  faithfiil  epitaphs  thy  stone. 
If  e'er  from  me  thy  lov'd  memorial  part. 
May  shame  afflict  this  ahenated  heart; 
Of  thee  forgetful  if  I  form  a  song. 
My  lyre  be  broken,  and  untun'd  my  tongue. 
My  grief  be  doubled  from  thy  image  free. 
And  mirth  a  torment,  unchastis'd  by  thee. 

Oft  let  rae  range  the  gloomy  aisks  alone. 
Sad  Iu3tury !  to  vulgar  minds  unknown, 
Along  the  walls  where  speaking  marbles  show 
What  worthies  form  the  hallow'd  mould  below ; 
Proud  names,  who  once  the  reins  of  empire  held  ; 
In  arms  who  triumph'd ;  or  in  arts  excell'd ; 
Chiefs,  grac'd  with  scars,  and  prodigal  of  blood ; 
Stem  patriots,  who  for  sacred  freedom  stood; 
Just  men,  by  whom  impartial  laws  were  given ; 
And  saints  who  taught,  and  led,  the  way  to  Heaven; 
N^'er  to  these  chambers,  where  the  mighty  rest. 
Since  their  foundation,  came  a  nobler  guest; 
Nor  e'er  was  to  the  bowere  of  bliss  convey'd 
A  fairer  spirit  or  more  welcome  shade. 

In  what  new  region,  to  the  just  as&ign'd. 
What  new  employments  please  th'  unbody'd  mind  ? 
A  winged  Virtue,  through  th'  etherial  sky, 
From  world  to  world  unweary'd  doea  he  fly  ? 
Or  curious  trace  the  long  laborious  maze 
Of  Heaven's  decrees,  where  wondering  angels  gaze  ? 
Does  he  delight  to  hear  bold  seraphs  tell 
How  Michael  battl'd,  and  the  dragon  fell; 


Or,  mix^  with  milder  dierufain,  to  glov 
In  hymns  of  love,  not  ill  essay'd  below  } 
Or  dost  thou  warn  poor  mortals  left  behind, 
A  task  well-suited  to  thy  gentle  iniiid? 
Oh  !  if  sometones  thy  sp^less  form  detoend : 
To  me,  thy  aid,  thou  guardian  genhis,  lend ! 
When  rage  misguides  me,  or  when  fiear  aknns. 
When  pun  distresses,  or  when  pleasure  chamu. 
In  silent  whisperings  purer  thoughts  impart. 
And  turn  from  ill,  a  frail  and  feeble  heart; 
Lead  through  the  paths  thy  vhrtae  trod  before^ 
Till  bliss  shall  join,  nor  death  can  part  us  more. 

That  awfiil  form,  which,  so  the  Heavens  deem. 
Must  still  be  lov'd  andstUl  d^Wd  by  me; 
In  nightly  visions  seldom  foib  to  rise. 
Or,  rous'd  by  Fancy,  meets  my  wakhig  eyes. 
If  business  calls,  or  crouded  courts  invite, 
Th'  unblenush'd  statesman  seems  tostrikemy  nglit; 
If  in  the  stage  I  seek  to  sooth  my  care, 
I  meet  his  soul  which  breathes  in  Cato  there  ; 
If  pensive  to  the  rural  shades  I  rove. 
His  shape  o'ertakes  me  in  the  lonely  grove; 
*Tw»s  there  of  just  and  good  he  reasoned  strong^, 
Clear'4  some  great trtHh,  or  rsis'dsomeseriouesoiig? 
There  patient  sfaowHi  us  the  wise  course  tiystder, 
A  candid  censbr,  and  a  friend  severe; 
There  taught  us  how  to  live ;  and  (oh !  too  hig^ 
The  price  for  knowledge)  taught  tis  how  to  die. 

ThouHiU,who8e  brow  theantique  structures  grace, 
Rear'd  by  bold  chiefii  of  Warwick's  noble  race. 
Why,  once  so  bv'd^  when-e'er  thy  bower  a{qpean» 
O'er  my  dim  eye-balk  glance  Ibe  iodden  tears  ! 
How  sweet  were  once  thy  prespecis  frsshaSMllUr. 
Thy  stopnog  walks,  and  ui^lnted  air ! 
How  sweet  the  glooDos  beneath  thy  aged  treee. 
Thy  noon^tide  shadow,  andthy  evenmg  broese  I 
His  image  thy  forsaken  bowers  Yestore ; 
Thy  walks  and  airy  prospects  charm  no  more  ; 
No  more  the  summer  in  thy  glooms  allsy'd. 
Thy  evening  breezes,  and  thy  noon-day  shades 
From  other  hills,  however  Fortune  frown^; 
Some  refiige  in  the  Muse's  art  I  found ; 
Reluctbnt  now  I  touch  the  trembling  string. 
Bereft  of  him,  who  taught  me  how  to  sing; 
And  these  sad  accents,  murmnr'd  o'er  his  urn. 
Betray  that  absence,  they  attempt  to  mourn. 
O  ! .  must  I  than  (now  fresh  my  bosom  bleeds. 
And  Craggs  in  death  to  Addison  succeeds) 
The  verse,  begun  to  one  lost  friend,  prolong. 
And  weep  a  second  in  th'  unfinish'd  song ! 

These  works  divme,  which,  on  his  death-bed  laki. 
To  thee,  O,  Craggs,  th'  expiring  sage  conrey'd. 
Great,  but  ill-omen'd,  monument  of  fiime. 
Nor  he  surriv'd  to  give,  nor  thou  to  dahn. 
Swift  after  him  thy  social  spirit  flies. 
And  close  to  his,  how  soon  !  thy  cofifai  lies. 
Blest  pair  !  whose  union  future  bards  shall  tell 
In  future  tongues :  each  other's  boast !  farewel, 
Farewel !  whom  johi'd  in  fame,  in  friendship  try'd. 
No  chance  could  sever,  nor  the  grave  divide. 


COLIN  AND  LUCY. 

A  BALLAD. 

Op  Leinster,  fam'd  for  maidens  fair. 
Bright  Lucy  was  the  grace; 

Nor  e'er  did  Liffy's  limpid  i 
Reflect  so  sweet  a  face 


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COLIN  AND  LUCY..., .TO  SIR  O.  KNELLEIL 


lt^ 


Till  lacldem  love,  and  pining  caie, 

Impair'd  her  rosy  hue, 
Ber  coni  lips,  and  damask  cheeks. 

And  eyes  of  glossy  blue. 

Oh  !  have  you  seen  a  lily  pale. 

When  belting  rams  descend? 
So  droop'd  the  slow-consuming  maid. 

Her  life  novr  near  its  end. 
By  Lacy  wam'd,  of  flattering  swains       * 

Take  heed,  ye  easy  lair : 
Of  vengeance  due  to  broken  vows, 

Ye  peijinr'd  swains,  beware. 
Three  times,  all  in  the  dead  of  night, 

A  bell  was  heard  to  ring; 
And  shriekii^  at  her  window  thrice, 

The  raveti  flapM  his  wing. 
Too  well  the  love -lorn  maiden  knew 

The  solonn  boding  sound : 
And  thus,  in  dying  words,  bespoke 

The  virgins  weeping  round : 
**  I  hear  a  voice,  you  cannot  hear« 

Which  says,  I  must  not  stay  } 
I  see  a  hand,  you  cannot  see. 

Which  beckons  me  away. 
By  a  fiUse  heart,  and  broken  vows, 

In  early  youth  I  die : 
Was  I  to  blame,  because  hb  bride 

Was  thrice  as  rich  as  I  ? 
"  Ah,  Colin !  give  not  her  thy  vowiy 

Vows  due  to  me  alone : 
Nor  thoo,  fond  maid,  receive  his  kia^ 

Nor  think  him  ail  thy  own. 
To-morrow,  in  the  church  to  wed, 

hnpatieiit,  both  prepare ! 
But  know,  fond  msjd ;  and  know,  fidse  man. 

That  Lucy  will  be  tiieie ! 
"  .Then  bear  my  oorse,  my  oontrades,  bear. 

This  bridegroom  blithe  to  meet. 
He  in  his  wedding-trim  so  gay, 

I  in  my  winding-sheeL" 
She  spoke,  she  d3r'd,  her  corse  was  borne, 

The  bridegroom  blithe  to  meet. 
He  in  his  welding  trim  so  gay. 

She  m  her  winding-sheet. 

Then  what  were  per3nr*d  Colin's  thoughts  ? 

How  were  these  nuptials  kept  ? 
The  bridesmen  flock*d  round  Lucy  dead. 

And  an  the  village  wept 
Confusion,  shame,  remorse,  despair. 

At  once  his  bosom  swell : 
The  damps  of  death  bedew'd  his  brow,- 

He  riiook,  he  groanM,  he  fell. 
From  the  vain  bride,  ah,  bride  no  naore  ! 

The  var3ring  crimson  fled, 
Wben,  stretched  before  her  rival's  corse, 

She  saw  her  husband  dead. 
Then  to  his  Lucy's  new-miade  grave, 

Convey'd  by  trembHog  swains, 
One  mookl  with  her,  beneath  one  sod. 

Forever  be  remams. 
Oft  at  this  grave,  the  coukapt  hind 

And  plighted  nnaid  are  seen  $ 
With  garlands  gay,  and  troe-love  knots. 

They  deck  the  sacred  green  : 
^»t,  swain  forsworn,  whoe'er  thou  art. 

This  hallow'd  spot  forbear ; 
Itemcmber  Colin's  dreadful  (ate, 

And  fear  to  meet  him  there. 


Sm  aODFRBY  KSELLER, 

AT  HIS  COUNTRT  SBAT. 

To  Whitton's  shades,  and  Hounslow's  airy  plain. 
Thou,  Kneller,  tak'st  thy  summer  flights  in  vain. 
In  vain  thy  wish  gives  all  thy  rural  hours 
To  the  fiur  villa,  and  well-onler'd  bowers; 
To  court  thy  pencfl  early  at  thy  gates. 
Ambition  knocks,  and  fleeting  Beauty  waits  ; 
The  boastful  Muse,  of  others'  fame  so  sure. 
Implores  thy  aid  to  make  her  own  secure; 
The  great,  the  fair,  and,  if  aught  nobler  be. 
Aught  more  belov'd,  the  Arts  solicit  thee. 

How  canst  thou  hope  to  fly  the  world,  in  vain 
From  Europe  sever'd  by  the  circling  main ; 
Sought  by  the  kings  of  every  distant  land. 
And  every  hero  worthy  of  thy  hand  ? 
Hast  thou  forgot  that  mighty  Bourbon  fear'd 
He  still  was  mortal^  till  thy  draught  appcar'd  ? 
That  Cosmo  chose  thy  glowing  form  to  place. 
Amidst  her  masters  of  the  Lombard  race  ? 
See,  on  her  Titian's  and  her  Guidu's  urns. 
Her  falling  arts  forlorn  Hesperia  mourns  ; 
While  Britain  wins  each  garland  from  her  brow. 
Her  wit  and  freedomfirst,  her  painting  now. 

Let  the  faint  copier,  on  old  Tiber's  shore, 
Nor  mean  the  task,  each  breathing  bust  explore, 
Line  after  line,  with  painful  patience  trace. 
This  Roman  grandeur,  that  Athenian  grace ; 
Vain  care  of  parts ;  ilj  impotent  of  soul, 
Th'  industrious  workman  foils  to  warm  the  whole. 
Each  theft  betra3rs  the  marble  whence  it  came. 
And  a  cold  statue  stiffens  in  the  frame. 
Thee  Nature  taught,  nor  Art  her  aid  deny'd, 
The  kindest  mistress,  and  the  surest  guide. 
To  catch  a  likeness  at  one  piercing  sight. 
And  place  the  foirest  in  the  fairest  ligpht; 
Ere  yet  thy  pencil  tries  her  nicer  toils. 
Or  on  thy  palette  lie  the  blendid  oils. 
Thy  carelen  chalk  has  half  achiev*d  thy  art. 
And  her  just  image  makes  Oeora  start. 

A  mind  that  grasps  the  whole  is  rarely  found, 
Hatf  leam'd,  half  painters,  and  half  wits  abound  ; 
Few,  like  thy  genius,  at  proportion  aim. 
All  great,  all  graceful,  and  throughout  the  sameu       > 

Such  be  thy  life,  O  since  the  glorious  rage 
That  fir'dthy  youth,  flames  unsubdued  by  age  ! 
Though  wealth,  nor  fame,now  touch  thy  sated  mind. 
Still  tinge  the  canvas,  bounteous  to  mankind; 
Since  after  thee  may  rise  an  impious  line. 
Coarse  manglers  of  the  human  face  divine, 
Paint  on,  till  Fate  dissolve  thy  mortal  part. 
And  live  and  die  the  n)onarch  of  thy  art. 


OV  THE  DEATH  OP 

THE  EARL  OF  CADOGAN. 

Of  Marlborough's  captains,  and  Eugenie's  friends. 

The  last,  Cadogan,  to  the  grave  descends : 

Low  lies  each  hand,  whence  Blenheim^s  glory  sprung. 

The  chie&  who  conquer'd,  and  the  haras  who  sung. 

From  his  cold  corse  though  every  friend  be  fled, 

Lo  !  Envy  waits,  that  lover  of  the  dead : 

Thus  did  she  feign  o^er  Nassau's  hearse  to  mourn; 

Thus  wept  insidious,  Qmrcbill,  o'er  thy  nm; 


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l'?4 


TICKELL'S  POEMS. 


To  blast  the  living,  gave  the  dead  their  due. 
And  wreaths,  herself  had  tamted,  trimmfd  anew. 
Thou,  yet  unnam'd  to  fill  his  empty  place. 
And  lead  to  war  thy  coantry*s  growing  race. 
Take  every  wish  a  Briti^  heart  can  frame. 
Add  palm  to  palm,  and  rise  finom  feme  to  fame. 

An  hour  must  come,  when  thou  shalt  hear  with 
Thyself  ti4(cluc*d,  and  curse  a  thankless  age :  [rage 
Nor  yet  for  this  declme  the  generous  strife. 
These  ills,  brave  man,  shall  quit  thee  with  thy  life, 
Alive  though  stained  by  every  abject  slave. 
Secure  of  feme  imd  justice  in  the  grave. 
Ah  !  no— -when  once  the  mortal  yields  to  Fate, 
The  blast  of  Fame's  sweet  trumpet  sounds  too  late. 
Too  late  to  stay  the  spirit  on  its  flight, 
Or  sooth  the  new  inhabitant  of  light; 
Who  hears  regardless,  while  fond  man,  distressed. 
Hangs  on  the  absent,  and  laments  the  blest 

•Farewcl  then  Fame,  ill  sought  thro'  fields  and 
Farew^l  unfaithful  promiser  of  good :  [blood, 

niiou  music,  warbling  to  the  deafened  ear ! 
I'hou  incense  wasted  on  the  funeral  bier ! 
Through  life  pursued  in  vain,  by  death  obtain'd. 
When  9sk*d  deny'd  us,  and  when  given  disdain*cL 


jiN  ODE 

INSCaiBBD  TO 

THE  EARL  OF  SUNDERLAND 

AT  WINDSOR. 

Thou  Dome,  where  Edward  first  enrolled 
His  red-cross  knights  and  barons  bold, 
AVbose  vacant  seats,  by  Virtue  bought. 
Ambitious  emperors  hat«  sought : 
Where  Britain's  foremost  names  are  found, 
In  peace  belov'd,  in  war  renowned. 
Who  made  the  hostile  nations  moan, 
I  Or  brought  a  blessing  on  their  own : 

Once  more  a  son  of  Spencer  waits, 
A  name  familiar  to  thy  gates ; 
Sprung  from  the  chief  whose  prowess  gain'd 
The  Garter  while  thy  founder  reign'd. 
He  ofierM  here  his  dinted  shield. 
The  dread  of  Gauls  in  Cressi's  field. 
Which,  in  thy  high-arch'd  temple  rais'd, 
For  four  lon^  centuries  hath  blaz'd. 

These  seats  our  sires,  a  hardy  kind, 
To  the  fierce  sons  of  war  confined. 
The  flower  of  chivalry,  who  drew 
With  sinew'd  arm  the  stubborn  yew  : 
Or  with  heav'd  poleax  clear'd  the  field  j 
Or  who,  m  justs  and  tourneys  skilPd, 
Before  their  ladies'  eyes  renowned. 
Threw  horse  and  honKsman  to  the  ground. 

In  after-times,  as  courts  refin'd. 
Our  patriots  in  the  list  were  jom*d. 
Not  only  Warwick  stainM  with  blood, 
Or  Marlborough  near  the  Danube's  flood, 
Have  in  their  crimson  crosses  glow'd  ; 
But,  on  just  lawgivers  bestow'd. 
These  emblems  Cecil  did  invest. 
And  gleam'd  on  wise  Godolphin's  breast. 

So  Greece,  ere  arts  began  to  rise, 
Fix'd  huge  Orion  in  the  skies,  , 


And  stem  Alcides,'  fem*d  m  wan. 
Bespangled  with  a  thousand  stars ; 
TiD  lette^d  Athens  round  the  pde 
Made  gentler  constellations  roll ; 
In  the  blue  heavens  the  lyre  she  strung. 
And  near  the  Maid  the  Balance  >  hung. 
Then,  Spencer,  mount  amid  the  band, ' 
Where  knights  and  kings  promiscuous  stand* 
What  though  the  hero's  flame  repressed 
Bums  calmly  in  thy  generous  breast ! 
Yet  who  more  dauntless  to  oppose 
In  doubtful  days  our  home-bred  foes  ! 
Who  rais'd  his  oountry's  wealth  so  high, 
Or  view'd  with  less  desiring  ej'e  ! 

The  sage,  who,  large  of  soul,  surveys 
The  globe,  and  aJl  its  empires  weighs. 
Watchful  the  various  climes  to  guide. 
Which  seas,  and  tongues,  and  faiths,  di^ide^ 
A  nobler  name  in  Wmdsor's  shrine 
Shall  leave,  if  right  the  Muse  divine. 
Than  sprung  of  old,  abhorr'd  and  vain. 
From  ravag'd  realms  and  myriads  slain. 

Why  praise  we,  prodigal  of  feme. 
The  rage  that  sets  the  world  on  flame  ? 
My  guiltless  Muse  his  brow  shall  bind 
Whose  godlike  bounty  spares  mankind. 
For  those,  whom  bloody  garlands  crown. 
Hie  brass  may  breathe,  the  marble  frown. 
To  him  through  every  rescued  land. 
Ten  thousand  living  trophies  stand. 


KENSINGTON  GjiRDEH. 

....Campos,  ubiTrqjafiiit  Viig. 

Whbie  Kensington,  high  o'er  the  neighbooring 

lands 
Midst  greens  and  sweets,  a  rc^l  fabric,  stands. 
And  sees  each  spring,  luxuriant  in  her  bowen, 
A  snow  of  blosBoms,  and  a  wild  offlowers. 
The  dtfmes  of  Britain  oft  in  crowds  r^air 
To  gravel  walks,  and  unpolluted  air.' 
Here,  while  the  town  in  damps  and  darkness  lies. 
They  breathe  in  sun-shine,  and  see  azure  skies  ; 
Each  walk,  with  robes  of  various  d3res  beqiready 
Seems  from  alar  a  moving  tulip-bed. 
Where  rich  brocades  and  glossy  damasla  glow. 
And  chints,  the  rival  of  the  showery  bow. 

Here  England's  daughter,  darting  of  the  larul. 
Sometimes,  surrounded  with  her  virgin  band. 
Gleams  through  the  shades.  She,  towering  o'er  the 
Stands  fairest  of  the  feirer  kind  confost,  [rest, 

Form'd  to  gain  hearts,thatBrunswick's  cause  dcny*d. 
And  charm  a  pec^  to  her  fether's  side. 

long  have  these  groves  to  royal  guests  been  known. 
Nor  Nassau  first  prefer'd  them  to  a  thitme. 
Ere  Norman  banners  wav'd  in  British  air; 
Ere  lordly  Hubba  with  the  golden  hair 
Pour'd  in  his  Danes ;  ere  elder  Julhis  came  j 
Or  Dardan  Bmtus  gave  our  ble  a  name  5 
A  prince  of  Albkm's  lineage  grac'd  the  wood. 
The  scene  of  wars,  and  stain'd  with  lovers'  blood. 

You,who  thro'  gazing  crowds,  your  captive  throng, 
Throw  pangs  and  passions,  as  you  move  along. 
Turn  on  the  left,  ye  fair,  your  radiant  eyes, 
W*herc  all  unlevel'd  the  gay  garden  lies : 
>  Names  of  constellations. 


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KENSINGTON  GARDEN. 


12i 


K  generous  anguish  for  mnother^t  pains 
Ere  hesT*d  your  hemrts,  or  shiYerM  through  your 
Louk  down  attentive  on  the  pleasing  dale,     [veins, 
And  listen  to  my  melancholy  tale. 

That  boUow  space,  were  now  in  living  rows    , 
Line  above  line  the  yew's  sad  vMure  grows, 
Was,  ere  the  planter's  hand  its  beauty  gave, 
A  commoii  pit,  a  rude  un&shion'd  cave. 
The  landscape  now  so  sweet  we  well  may  praise : 
But  &r,  far  sweeter  in  its  ancient  days. 
Far  sveeter  was  it,  when  its  peopled  ground 
With  ^ry  domes  and  datzlmg  towers  was  crown'd. 
Where  in  the  midst  those  verdant  pillars  spring. 
Rose  the  proud  palace  of  the  Elfin  king; 
For  every  edge  of  vegetable  green, 
In  happier  years  a  crowded  street  was  seen ; 
Kor  all  those  leaves  that  now  the  prospect  grace. 
Could  match  the  numbers  of  its  pygmy  race. 
What  urg*d  this  mighty  empire  to  its  &te, 
A  tale  of  woe  and  wonder,  I  relate. 

When  Albion  ruPd  the  land,  whose  lineage  came 
From  Neptune  mingling  with  a  noortal  dame. 
Their  midnight  pranks  the  sprightly  fauies  play'd 
On  every  hiB,  and  dancM  in  every  shade. 
Bat,  foes  to  sun-shine,  most  they  took  delight 
In  dells  and  dales  conceal*d  from  human  sight : 
lihere  hewM  their  houses  in  the  archmg  rock; 
Or  scoop'd  the  boeom  of  the  blfsted  oak; 
Or  heaitl,  o'ershadow'd  by  some  shelving  hiU^ 
The  distant  murmurs  of  Uie  foiling  rilL 
They,  rich  in  piKier'd  spoils,  hidnlg'd  their  mirth, 
And  pity*d  the  huge  wretched  sons  of  Earth* 
Kv'n  now,  'tis  said,  the  hinds  o'erhear  their  strain. 
And  strive  to  view  their  airy  forms  in  vain : 
Tbey  to  their  cells  at  man's  approach  repair. 
Like  the  shy  leveret,  or  the  mother-hare. 
The  whilst  poor  mortals  startle  at  the  sound 
Of  uiiscen  foot^ieps  on  the  haunted  ground. 

Amkl  this  garden,  then%ith  woods  o'ergrown, 
Stryd  the  k)vM  seat  of  royal  Oberon. 
Fr»mi  every  rc^'ion  to  his  palace-gate 
Carat*  peers  and  princes  of  the  foiry  state, 
MTx>,  rank'd  in  council  round  the  sacred  shade, 
Their  monan-Vs  will  and  great  behests  obey'd. 
From  Tlianip^'  fair  baiik«,  by  lofty  towers  adom'd, 
^Vith  l'»-»'l^  of  plun<U'r  «>ft  h«  rhiefii  returned  : 
Ht-nt-e  in  pnnid  n>b**«,  and  coUmrs  bright  and  gay, 
Sh*MK'  ewry  knight  awl  every  lovely  fay. 
MTiocVr  nn  Powt-ll's  dazzling  stage  disphiy'd, 
>Iath  fam  d  kinif  Pepin  and  his  court  soney'd, 
May  gae^,  if  old  by  modem  things  we  trace, 
Tlio  pomp  an>\  splendour  of  the  fairy -race. 

By  ma;dc  fenc'd,  by  spolU  encompassM  round, 
No  mortal  touch *d  this  interdicted  ground ; 
No  mortal  entcr'd,  those  alone  who  came 
Stol'n  from  the  couch  f»f  some  terrestrial  dame  : 
For  oft  of  babes  they  rcjbbM  the  matron's  bed, 
And  left  some  sickly  ehan)reling  in  their  stead. 

It  chanc'd  a  youth  of  Albion's  royal  blood 
Was  foster'd  here,  the  wonder  of  the  wood. 
Milkah  for  wiles  above  her  peers  renown'd. 
Beep  ski]  I'd  in  charms  and  many  a  mystic  sound. 
As  through  the  regal  dome  ^he  sought  for  prey, 
Observed  the  infant  Albion  where  he  lay 
In  mantles  broider'd  o'er  with  georgeous  pride. 
And  stole  him  firora  the  sleeping  mother's  side. 
Who  now  but  Milkah  triumphs  in  her  mind  ! 
4b,  wretched  nymph,  to  future  evils  blind  ! 


The  time  shall  come  when  thou  shalt  dearly  pay 
The  theft,  hard-heaited  !  of  that  guilty  day : 
Thou  in  thy  turn  shah  like  the  aueen  repine. 
And  all  her  sorrows  doubled  shall  be  thine : 
He  who  adorns  thy  house,  the  lovely  boy 
Who  now  adorns  it,  shall  at  length  destroy. 

Two  hundred  nooons  in  their  pale  course  had  seen 
The  gay-rob'd  fairies  glinmicr  on  the  green, 
And  AlbkMi  now  had  reach'd  in  youthful  prime 
To  nineteen  years,  as  mortals  measure  time. 
Flush'd'wiith  resistless  charms  be  fir'd  to  love 
Each  njrmph  and  little  Dryad  of  the  grove  ; 
For  skilful  Milkah  spar'd  not  to  employ 
Her  utmost  art  to  rear  the  princely  boy ; 
Each  supple  limb  she  swath'd,  and  tender  bone. 
And  to  the  Elfin  standard  kept  him  down  ; 
She  robb'd  dwarf-elders  of  their  fragrant  fruit. 
And  fed  him  early  with  the  daisy's  root. 
Whence  through  his  veins  the  powerful  juices  ran. 
And  form'd  in  beauteous  miniature  tlie  man. 
Yet  still,  two  inches  taller  than  tlie  rest. 
His  lofty  port  his  human  birth  confbst ; 
A  foot  in>height,  how  stately  did  he  show ! 
How  look  superior  on  the  crowd  below ! 
What  knight  like  him  coukl  toss  the  rushy  lance ! 
Who  move  to  graceful  in  the  mazy  dance ! 
A  shape  so  nice,  or  features  half  so  fair. 
What  elf  could  boast !  or  such  a  flow  of  hair  I 
Bright  Kenna  saw,  a  princess  bom  to  leigpn. 
And  felt  the  charmer  bum  in  every  vein. 
She,  heiress  to  this  empire's  potent  lord, 
Prais'd  like  the  stars,  and  next  the  Moon  ador'd. 
She,  whom  at  distance  thrones  and  princedoms 
To  whom  proud  Oriel  and  Azviriel  sued,      [view'd. 
In  her  high  palace  languish'd,  void  of  joy. 
And  pin'd  in  secret  for  a  mortal  boy. 

He  too  was  smitten,  and  discreetly  strove 
By  courtly  deeds  to  gain  the  virgin's  love. 
For  her  he  cull'd  the  fairest  flower  that  grew, 
Ere  morning  suns  had  drain'd  their  fragrant  dew ; 
He  chas'd  the  hornet  in  his  mid-day  flight. 
And  brought  her  gkyw-wormsjn  the  noon  of  night; 
When  on  ripe  fruits  she  cast  a  wishmg  eye, 
Did  ever  Albion  think  the  tree  too  high  ! 
He  show'd  her  where  the  preg^nt  goldfim^h  hung. 
And  the  wren-mother  brooding  o'er  her  yiMmg ; 
To  her  th'  inscription  on  their  egg»  he  read, 
(Admire,  ye  clerks,  the  youth  whom  Milkah  bred) 
To  her  he  show'd  each  hetb  of  virtuous  juice. 
Their  powers  distinguisfa'd,  and  describ'd  their  use : 
All  vpin  their  powers,  alas  !  to  Kenna  prove. 
And  well  sung  Ovid,  "  There's  no  herb  for  love." 

As  when  a  ghost,  enlarg'd  from  realms  below, 
Seeks  its  old  friend  to  tell  some  secret  wi»e. 
The  poor  shade  shivering  »tands,  and  mdstuot  break 
His  painful  silence,  till  the  mortal  speak  : 
So  far'd  it  with  the  little  love-sick  maid,  ^ 

Forbid  to  utter,  what  her  eyes  betray'd. 
He  saw  her  anguish,  and  revcal'd  his  flame, 
And  spar'd  the  blushes  of  the  tougue-ty*d  dame. 
The  day  would  fail  me,  shoukl  I  reckon  o'er 
The  sighs  tliey  lavish'd,  and  the  oaths  they  swore 
In  words  so  melting,  that  compar'd  with  those 
The  nicest  co«utship  of  terrestrial  beaux 
Would  sound  like  compliments,  from  country  clowns 
To  red  cheek'd  sweet-hearts  in  their  home-spun 

AH  in  a  lawn  of  many  a  various  hue         [gowns. 
A  bed  of  flowers  (a  fairy  forest)  grew ; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


126 


•nCKELL'S  POEMS. 


Twas  here  one  noon,  the  gaudiest  of  the  May, 
The  still,  the  secret,  silent,  hour  c€  day. 
Beneath  a  lofty  tulip's  ample  shade 
Sat  the  young  lover  and  th'  immortal  maidL 
They  thought  all  ^ries  slept,  ah,  luckless  pair ! 
Hid,  but  hi  vain,  in  the  Sun's  noon-tide  glare  ! 
When  Albion,  leaning  on  his  Kenna's  breast. 
Thus  all  the  softness  ofhis  soul  exprest : 

"  All  things  arehush'd.  The  Sun's  meridian  rays 
Veil  the  horizon  in  one  migphty  blaze : 
Nor  moon  nor  star  in  Heaven's  blue  arch  is  seen 
With  kindly  rays  to  silver  o'er  the  green. 
Grateful  to  fairy  eyes  ;  they  secret  take 
Their  rest,  and  only  wretched  mortals  wake. 
This  dead  of  day  I  fly  to  thee  alone, 
A  world  to  me,  a  multitude  in  one. 
Oh,  sweet  as  dew-drops  on  these  flowery  lawns, 
When  the  sky  opens,  and  the  evening  dawns  ! 
Straight  as  the  pink,  that  towers  so  high  in  air. 
Soft  as  the  blow-bell !  as  the  daisy,  fair  ! 
Blest  be  the  hour,  when  first  I  was  convey'd 
An  infant  captive  to  this  blissful  shade !     , 
And  blest  the  hand  that  did  my  form  refine. 
And  shrunk  my  stature  to  a  match  with  thine ! 
Glad  I  for  thee  renounce  my  royal  birth. 
And  all  the  giant-daughters  of  the  Earth. 
Thou,  if  thy  breast  with  equal  ardour  bum. 
Renounce  thy  kind,  and  love  for  love  return. 
So  from  us  two,  combin'd  by  nuptial  ties, 
A  race  unknown  of  demi-gods  shall  rise. 

0  speak,  my  love  !  my  vows  with  vows  repay. 
And  sweetly  swear  my  rising  fears  away." 

To  whom  (the  shining  azure  of  her  eyes 
More  brighten'd)  thus  th'  enamour'd  maid  replies : 
'*  By  all  the  stars,  and  first  the  glorious  Moon, 

1  swear,  and  by  the  head  of  Oberon, 

A  dreadful  oath  !  no  prince  of  flEury  line 

Shall  e'er  in  wedlock  pliglit  his  vows  with  mine. 

Where-e'er  my  footsteps  in  the  dance  are  seen. 

May  toadstools  rise,  ami  mildews  blast  the  green, 

May  the  keen  east-wind  blight  my  favourite  flowers, 

And  snakes  and  spotted  adders  haunt  my  bowers. 

Confin'd  whole  ages  in  an  hemlock  shade 

There  rather  pine  I  a  neglected  maid. 

Or  worse,  exil'd  from  Cjnthia's  gentle  rays. 

Parch  in  the  sun  a  thousand  summer-days, 

Hian  any  prince,  a  prince  of  fairy  line, 

In  sacred  wedlock  plight  his  vows  with  mine." 

She  ended :  and  with  lips  of  rosy  hue 
Dipp'd  five  times  over  in  ambrosial  dew. 
Stifled  his  words.    When,  from  his  covert  rear'd. 
The  frowning  brow  of  Oberon  appear'd.       [sight ! ) 
A  sun-flower's  trunk  was  near,  whence  (killing 
The  monarch  issued,  half  an  ell  in  height: 
Full  on  the  pair  a  fiirious  look  he  cast. 
Nor  spoke  ;  but  gave  his  bugle-horn  a  blast. 
That  through  the  woodland  echoed  far  and  wide. 
And  drew  a  swarm  of  subjects  to  his  side. 
A  hundred  chosen  knights,  in  war  rcnown'd. 
Drive  Albion  banish'd  from  the  sacred  ground  ; 
And  twice  ten  myriads  guard  the  bright  abodes. 
Where  the  proud  king,  amidst  his  demi-gods. 
For  Kenna's  sudden  bndal  bids  prepare. 
And  to  Azuriel  gives  the  weeping  fair. 

•If  fsme  in  arms,  with  ancient  birth  combin'd, 
A  faultless  beauty,  and  a  spotless  mind. 
To  love  and  praise  can  generous  souls  incline. 
That  love,  Azwriel,  and  that  praise,  was  thine. 


Blood  only  less  th^  royal  fillM  thy  reins. 

Proud  was  thy  roof,  and  lai^  thy  fair  domains^ 

Where  now  the  skies  high  Holland-House  invade^ 

And  short-liv'd  Warwick  sadden'd  all  the  shades. 

Thy  dwelling  stood :  nor  did  in  him  aflfoid 

A  nobler  owner,  or  a  lovelier  lord. 

For  thee  a  hundred  fields  produced  their  store. 

And  by  thy  name  ten  thousand  vassals  swore  ; 

So  (ov'd  thy  name,  that,  at  their  monarch's  dioice^ 

All  fury  shouted  with  a  general  vmce. 

Oriel  alone  a  secret  rage  supprest. 
That  from  his  bosom  heav'd  the  golden  vest 
Along  the  banks  of  Thame  his  empire  ran. 
Wide  was  his  ranjge,  and  populous  his  clan. 
When  cleanly  servants,  if  we  trust  old  tales. 
Beside  their  wages  had  good  fairy  vails. 
Whole  heaps  of  silver  tokens,  nightly  paid. 
The  careful  wife,  or  the  neat  dairy-maid. 
Sunk  not  his  stores.  With  smiles  and  powerful  bribe* 
He  gain'd  the  leaders  of  his  neighbour  tribes. 
And  erc  the  night  the  face  of  Heaven  bad  changed. 
Beneath  his  banners  half  the  fairies  rang'd. 

Meanwhile,  driven  back  to  Earth,  a  lonely  way 
The  chearless  Albion  wander'd  half  tlie  day,  [thorns 
A  long,  long  journey,  choak'd  with  brakes  and 
Ill-measur'd  by  ten  thousand  barley-corns. 
Tir'd  out  at  length  a  spreading  stream  he  spy'd 
Fed  by  old  Thame,  a  daughter  of  the  tide  :     [fame 
'Twas  then  a  spreading  stream,    though  now,  its 
Obscnr'd,  it  bears  the  Creek's  inglorious  name. 
And  creeps,  as  through  contracted  bounds  it  strays, 
A  leap  for  boys  in  these  degenerate  days. 

On  the  clear  crystal's  verdant  bank  he  stood,     / 
And  thrice  look'd  backward  on  the  fatal  wood. 
And  thrice  he  groan'd,  and  thrice  he  beat  his  breast. 
And  thus  in  tears  his  kindred  gods  addrest. 

**  If  true,  ye  watery  powers,  my  lineage  came 
From  Neptune  mingling  with  a  mortal  dame ; 
Down  to  his  court,  with  coral  garlands  crown'd. 
Through  all  your  grottoes  waft  my  plaintive  sound, 
And  urge  the  god,  whose  trident  shakes  the  Earth, 
To  grace  his  offspring,  and  assert  my  birth." 

He  said.     A  gentle  Naiad  heard  his  prayer. 
And,  touch 'd  with  pity  for  a  lover's  care. 
Shoots  to  the  sea,  where  low  beneath  the  tides 
Old  Neptune  in  th'  unfathom'd  deep  resides. 
Rouz'd  at  the  news,  the  sea's  stem  sultan  svore 
Revenge,  ana  scarce  from  present  arms  forbore  ; 
But  first  the  nymph  his  harbinger  he  sends. 
And  to  her  care  the  favourite  boy  commends. 

As  thro'  the  Thames  her  backward  course  she 
Driv'n  up  his  current  by  the  refluent  tides,  [guides^ 
Along  his  banks  the  pygmy  legions  spread 
She  spies,  and  haughty  Oriel  at  their  head. 
Soon  with  wrong'd  Albion*s  name  the  host  she  firei. 
And  counts  the  ocean's  god,  among  his  sires ; 
"  The  ocean's  god,  by  whom  shall  be  o'erthrown, 
(Styx  heard  his  oath)  the  tyrant  Oberon. 
See  here  beneath  a  toadstool's  deadly  gloom 
Lies  Albion :  him  the  Fates  your  lesider  doom. 
Hear,  and  obey ;  'tis  Neptune's  powerful  call. 
By  him  Azuriel  and  his  king  shall  fall." 

She  said.  They  bow'd :  and  on  their  shields  up-boc« 
With  shouts  their  new  saluted  emperor. 
£*en  Oriel  sniil'd  :  at  least  to  smile  he  strove. 
And  hopes  of  vengeance  triumph'd  over  love. 

See  now  the  mourner  of  the  lonely  shade 
By  gods  protected,  and  by  hosts  obey'd. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


K£N»NQTON  OARDEN. 


127 


A  tlmre,  a  ch^f,  by  fickle  Fortune's  play> 
In  the  short  course  of  one  revolving  day. 
What  woDder  if  the  youth,  so  strangely  blest. 
Felt  his  heart  flutter  in  his  little  breast ! 
His  thick  embattled  troops,  with  secret  pride. 
He  views  extended  half  an  acre  wide; 
More  light  be  treads,  more  tall  he  seems  to  rise. 
And  struts  a  straw-breadth  nearer  to  the  skies. 

O  for  thy  Muse,  great  Bard  > ,  whose  lofty  strains 
In  battle  join*d  the  Pygmies  and  the  Cranes ; 
Each  gaudy  knight,  had  I  that  warmth  divine. 
Each  colour'd  legion  in  my  verae  should  shine. 
But  ain^ile  I,  and  innocent  of  art. 
The  tale,  that  sooth'd  my  in^t  years,  impart. 
The  tale  I  heard  whole  winter-eves,  untir*d, 
And  snig  the  battles,  that  my  nurse  inspired. 

Now  the  shrill  corn-pipes,  echoing  loud  to  arms. 
To  rank  and  file  reduce  the  straggling  swarms. 
Thick  rows  of  spears  at  once,  with  sudden  glare, 
A  grove  of  needles,  glitter  in  the  air; 
Loose  in  the  winds  small  ribbon-streamers  flow. 
Dipt  in  all  colours  of  the  heavenly-bow. 
And  the  gay  host,  that  now  its  march  pursues. 
Gleams  o'er  the  meadows  in  a  thousand  hues. 

On  Buda's  plains  thus  formidably  bright, 
Shone  Asia's  sons,  a  pleasing  dreadful  sight. 
In  various  robes  their  silken  troops  were  seen. 
The  blue,  the  red,  and  pn^het's  sacred  green : 
When  bloommg  Brunswick,  near  the  Danube's  flood, 
First  stain'd  his  maiden  sword  in  Turkish  blood. 

Unseen  and  silent  march  the  skiw  brigades 
Hirougfa  pathless  wilds,  and  unfrequented  shades. 
In  hope  already  vanqxxigh'd  by  surprise. 
In  Albion's  power  the  feiry  empire  lies ; 
Already  has  he  seiz'd  on  Kenna's  charms. 
Aid  the  glad  beauty  trembles  in  his  arms. 

The  marqh  concludes :  and  now  in  prospect  near, 
Biit  fenc'd  with  arms,  the  hostile  towers  appear. 
For  Oberon,  or  Druids  falsely  sing. 
Wore  his  prime  vi?^ier  in  a  magic  ring, 
A  subtle  spright,  that  opening  plots  foretold 
By  sodden  dimness  on  the  beamy  gold. 
Heoce,  in  a  creseot  form'd,  his  legions  bright 
With  beating  bosoms  watted  for  the  fight ; 
To  cbar^  their  foes  they  march,  a  glittering  band. 
And  in  their  van  doth  bold  Azuriel  stand. 

What  rage  that  hour  did  Albion's  soul  possess, 
Tjet  chiefs  imagine,  and  let  lovcqs  guess  ! 
Forth  issuing  from  his  ranks,  that  strove  in  vain 
To  ch^k  his  course,  athwart  the  dreadful  plain 
He  strides  indignant :  and  with  haughty  cries 
To  iongle  fight  the  fairy  prince  defi^. 

Forbear!  rash  youth,  th'  unequal  war  to  try ; 
^V,  sprui^  from  mortals,  with  immortals  vie. 
No  god  stands  ready  to  avert  thy  doom. 
Nor  yet  thy  grandsire  of  the  waves  is  come. 
My  words  are  vain — ^no  words  the  wretch  can  move, 
By  Beauty  dazzled,  and  bewitch'd  by  Love : 
He  longs,  he  bums,  to  win  the  glorious  prize, 
And  sees  no  danger,  while  he  sees  her  eyes. 

Now  firom  each  host  the  eager  warrioiy  start. 
And  furious  Albion  flings  his  hasty  dart, 
Twas  featber'd  ftnom  the  bee's  transparent  wing, 
And  its  shaft  ended  in  a  hornet's  sting ; 
But,  tost  in  rage,  it  flew  without  a  wound. 
High  o'er  the  foe,  and  guiltless  pierc'd  the  gronixL 
Not  so  AzorieFs :  with  unerring  aim, 
TstDsar  the  needle-pointed  javelin  cauM, 

I  Mr.  Addison. 


Drove  through  the  seven-fold  shield,  and  silken  vest* 
And  lightly  ras'd  the  lover's  ivory  breast. 
Rouz'd  at  the  smart,  and  rising  to  the  blow. 
With  his  keen  sword  he  cleaves  his  fairy  foe, 
Sheer  from  the  shoulder  to  the  waste  he  cleaves. 
And  of  one  arm  the  tottering  trunk  bereaves. 

His  useless  steel  brave  Albion  wields  no  more. 
But  sternly  smiles,  and  thinks  the  6ombat  o'er : 
So  had  it  been,  had  aught  of  mortal  strain. 
Or  less  than  fiiiry,  felt  the  deadly  pain. 
But  empyreal  forms,  howe'er  in  fight 
Gash'd  and  dismember'd,  easily  unite. 
As  some  frail  cup  of  China's  purest  mold. 
With  azure  vamish'd,  and  bedropt  with  gold. 
Though  broke,  if  cur'd  by  some  nice  virgin's  hands. 
In  its  old  strength  and  pristine  beauty  stands ; 
The  tumnlts  of  the  boiling  bohea  braves. 
And  holds  secure  the  coffee's  sable  waves  : 
So  did  Azuriefs  arm,  if  Fame  say  true. 
Rejoin  the  vital  trunk  whence  fii-st  it  grew ; 
And,  whilst  in  wonder  fix'd  poor  Albion  stood, 
Plung'd  the  curs'd  sabre  in  his  heart's  warm  blood. 
The  golden  broidery,  tender  Milkah  wove. 
The  breast,  to  Kenna  sacred  and  to  Love, 
Lie  rent  axiid  mangled :  and  the  gaping  wound 
Pours  out  a  flood  of  purple  on  the  ground. 
The  jetty  lustre  sickens  in  his  eyes : 
On  his  cokl  cheeks  the  bloomy  freshness  dies ; 
**  Oh  Kenna,  Kenna,''  thrice  he  try'd  to  say, 
«  Kenna,  farewel !"  and  sigh'd  his  soul  away. 

His  fall  the  Dryads  with  loud  shrieks  deplore, 
By  sister  Naiads  echo'd  from  the  shore. 
Thence  down  to  Neptune's  secret  realms  convey'd. 
Through  grotts,  and  glooms,  and  many  a  coral  shade. 
The  sea's  great  sire,  with  looks  denouncing  war. 
The  trident  shakes,  and  mounts  the  pearly  car : 
With  one  stem  firown  the  wide-spread  deep  deforms. 
And  works  the  madding  ocean  into  storms. 
O'er  foaming  mountains,  and  through  bursting  tides. 
Now  high,  now  low,  the  bounding  chariot  rides, 
Till  through  the  Thames  in  a  loud  whirlwind's  roar 
It  shoots,  and  lands  him  on  the  destin'd  shore. 

Now  fix'd  on  earth  his  towering  stature  stood. 
Hung  o'er  the  mountains,  and  o'erlook'd  the  wood. 
To  Brumpton's  grove  one  ample  stride  he  took, 
(The  valleys  trembled,  and  the  forests  shook) 
The  next  huge  step  reach'd  the  devoted  shade. 
Where  choak'd  in  blood  was  wretched  Albion  laid : 
Where  now  the  vanquish'd,  with  the  victors  join'd. 
Beneath  the  regal  banners  stood  combin'd. 

Th'  embattled  dwarfs  with  rage  and  scorn  he  past. 
And  on  their  town  his  eye  vindictive  cast. 
In  deep  foundations  his  strong  trident  cleaves. 
And  high  in  air  th'  up-rooted  empire  heaves ; 
On  his  broad  enghie  the  vast  ruin  hung, 
Which  on  the  foe  with  force  divine  he  fluni? : 
Aghast  the  legions,  in  th'  approaching  shade, 
Th*  inverted  ^ires  and  rocking  domes  sun'ey'd, 
Thzit,  downward  tumbUng  on  the  host  below, 
Crush'd  the  whole  nation  at  one  dreadful  blow. 
Towers,  arms,  nymphs,  warriors,  are  together  lost. 
And  a  whole  empire  falls  to  sooth  said  Albion's  ghost 

Such  was  the  period,  long  restrain'd  by  Fate, 
And  such  the  downfall  of  the  fairy  state. 
This  dale,  a  pleasing  region,  not  nnblest. 
This  dale  possest  they ;  and  had  still  possest ; 
Had  not  Uieir  monarch,  with  a  father's  pride, 
Rent  from  her  lord  th'  inviolable  bride. 
Rash  to  dissolve  the  contract  seai'd  above. 
The  solemn  vows  and  sacred  bonds  of  love. 


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,128 


TICKELL'S  pomes. 


Now,  where  his  elvei  so  sprightly  danc'd  ^e  round. 
No  violet  breathes,  nor  daisy  paints  the  ground. 
His  towers  and  people  fill  one  common  grave, 
A  shapeless  ruin,  and  a  barren  cave. 

Beneath  huge  hills  of  nnokJng?  piles  he  lay 
StunnM  and  confounded  a  whole  summer's  day, 
At  length  awak'd  (for  what  can  long  restrain 
l^nbody'd  spirits  !)  but  awak*d  in  pain : 
And  as  he  saw  the  desolated  wood, 
And  the  dark  den  where  once  his  empire  stood. 
Grief  chilPd  his  heart :  to  his  half-open*d  eyes 
In  every  oak  a  Neptune  seera'd  to  rise : 
He  fled :  and  left,  with  all  his  trembling  peers. 
The  long  possession  of  a  thousand  years. 

Through  bush,  through  brake,  through  groves,  and 
,    gloomy  dales,  [vales, 

Through  dank  and  dry,  o'er  streams  and  flowery 
Direct  they  fled;  but  often  look'd  behind, 
And  stopt  and  started  at  each  rustling  wind. 
Wing'd  with  like  fear,  his  abdicated  bands 
Dispense  and  wander  into  difierent  lands. 
Part  hid  beneath  the  Peak's  deep  caverns  lie. 
In  silent  glooms,  impervious  to  the  sky  ; 
Part  on  ikir  Avon's  margin  seek  repose,  ' 

Whose  stream  o'er  Britain's  midmost  region  flows, 
Where  formidable  Neptune  never  came. 
And  seas  and  oceans  are  but  known  by  faunt ; 
Some  to  dark  woods  and  secret  shade  retreat: 
And  some  on  mountains  choose  thehr  airy  seat. 
There  haply  by  the  ruddy  damsel  seen. 
Or  shepherd-boy,  they  featly  foot  the  green. 
While  from  their  steps  a  circling  verdure  qfmngt ; 
But  fly  from  towns,  and  dread  the  courts  cdT  kings. 

Mean-while  said  Kenna,  loth  to  quit  the  grove. 
Hung  o'er  the  body  of  her  breathless  love, 
Ti7'd  every  art,  (vain  arts  !)  to  change  his  doom, 
And  vow'd  (vain  vows  !)  to  join  him  in  the  tomb. 
What  could  she  do  ?  the  Fates  alike  deny 
The  dead  to  live,  or  fiiiry  forms  to  die. 

An  herb  there  grows  (the  same  old  Homer  ^  tells 
Ulysses  bore  to  rival  Circe's  spells) 
Its  root  is  ebon^black,  but  sends  to  light 
A  stem  that  bends  with  flowrets  milky  white, 
Moly  the  plant,  which  gods  and  fairies  know. 
But  secret  kept  from  mortal  men  below. 
On  his  pale  limbs  its  virtuous  juice -she  shed. 
And  murmur'd  mystic  numbers  o'er  the  dead. 
When  lo  !  the  little  shape  by  magic  power  . 
Grew  less  and  less,  contracted  to  a  flower ; 
A  flower,  that  first  in  this  sweet  garden  smil'd. 
To  virgins  sacred,  and  the  Soow-drop  styl'd. 

The  new-bom  plant  with  sweet  regret  she  view'd, 
Warm'd  with  her  sighs,  and  with  her  tears  bedew'd, 
ItB  ripen'd  seeds  from  bank  to  hank  cunvey'd. 
And  with  her  lover  whiten'd  half  the  shade. 
Thus  won  from  death  each  qpring  she  sees  him  grow. 
And  glorious  in  the  v^eCable  snow. 
Which  now  increas'd  through  wideBiritamiia'^plaini, 
Its  parent's  warmth  and  spotless  name  retains. 
First  leader  of  the  flowery  race  aspires, 
And  foremost  catches  the  Sun's  g^iial  fins, 
'Mid  frosts  and  snows  triumphant  dares  appear. 
Mingles  the  seasons,  and  leaids  on  the  year. 

Deserted  now  of  all  the  pigmy  race. 
Nor  man  nor  fairy  touch'd  this  guilty  place. 
In  heaps  on  heaps,  for  many  a  rolling  age. 
It  lay  accurs'd,  the  mark  of  Neptune's  rage, 

» Odyss.  Lib.  x. 


T!I1  great  Nasfou  recloath'd  the  deseH  sba^ 
Thence  sacred  to  Britannia's  monarchs  made. 
*Tw9B  then  the  green-rob'd  nynq»h,  fiur   Kenna, 

came, 
(Kenna  that  gave  the  neigbKonring  town  its  oame.) 
Proud  when  she  saw  th'  ennobled  garden  shine. 
With  nymphs  and  heroes  of  her  lover's  Ihac, 
She  vow'd  to  grace  the  mannons  once  her  own. 
And  picture  out  in  plants  the  fairy  town. 
To  far-&m'd  Wise  her  flight  unseen  she  aped. 
And  with  gay  prospects  fiH'd  the  crafbrnan's  head. 
Soft  in  his  fancy  drew  a  pleasing  scheme, 
And\plann'd  that  landscape  in  a  m<krning  dremm. 

With  the  sweet  view  the  sire  of  gardens  fir'dy 
Attempts  the  labour  by  the  njrmph  inspir'dy 
The  walls  and  streets  in  rows  of  yew  designs. 
And  forms  the  town  in  all  its  ancient  fines  ; 
The  comer  trees  he  lifts  more  high  in  air. 
And  girds  the  palace  with  a  verdant  square ; 
Nor  knows,  while  round  he  views  the  rising  scenes. 
He  builds  8  city  as  he  plants  his  greens. 

With  a  sad  pleasure  the  aerial  maid 
This  image  of  her  ancient  realms  survey'd. 
How  chang'd,  how  fall'n  fit)m  its  prime^-al  pnde ! 
Yet  here  each  moon,  the  hour  her  lover  dy'd. 
Each  moon  his  solemn  obsequies  she  pays, 
And  leads  the  danoe  beneath  pale  Cynthia's  rays ; 
Plaas'd  in  these  shades  to  head  her  fsury  train. 
And  graoe  the  groves  where  Albion's  kinsmen  reign.. 


TO 

A  LADY  BEFORE  MARRIAGE^ 

Oh  !  form'd  by  Natnre,  and  refin'd  by  Art, 
With  charms  to  win,  and  sense  to  fix  the  heart ! 
By  thousands  sought,  Clotilda,  canst  thou  free 
Thy  croud  of  captives  and  descend  to  me  ? 
Content  in  shades  obscure  to  waste  thy  life, 
A  hidden  bestuty  and  a  country  wife. 
O  !  listen  while  thy  summers  are  my  (heme. 
Ah  !  sooth  thy  partner  in  his  waking:  dream  ! 
In  some  small  hamlet  on  the  lonely  plain,  J^train  ^ 
Uliere  Thames,  through  meadows,  rolb  his  mazy 
Or  where  high  Windsor,  thick  with  greens  array '«i. 
Waves  his  old  oaks,  and  spreads  his  ample  shade. 
Fancy  has  figur'd  out  our  calm  retreat; 
Already  round  the  visionary  seat 
Our  limes  b^^  to  shoot,  our  flowers  to  spring. 
The  brooks  to  murranr,  and  the  birds  to  sing. 
Where  dost  thou  lie,  thou  thinly-peopled  green  > 
Tliou  nameless  lawn,  and  village  yet  unseen  ? 
Where  sons,  contented  nf ith  their  native  ground. 
Ne'er  travell'd  fiuther  than  ten  finrlongs  round ; 
And  the  tann'd  peasant,  and  his  raddy  bride. 
Were  bom  together,  ai^  together  di^. 
Where  eariy  larks  best  tell  the  morning  light. 
And  only  Philomel  disturbs  the  night, 
'Midst  gardens  here  my  humble  pile  shall  rise. 
With  8weet%  surrounded  of  ten  thousand  dies ; 
All  savage  where  th'  embroider'd  gardens  end. 
The  hannt  of  echoes,  shall  my  woods  ascend ; 
And  oh !  if  Heaven  th'  ambitious  thought  approve, 
A  rill  shall  Warble  cross  the  gloomy  grove, 
A  little  riH,  o'er  pebbly  beds  convey'd. 
Gush  down  the  steep,  and  glitter  through  the  glade. 
What  chearing  scents  those  bordering  banks  exhals  t 
How  loud  that  heifer  lows  from  yonder  vale ! 


Digitized  by  VjOO^IC 


THE  HORtMIOOK. 


14^ 


HtdfOfVtti  «ichtetfa0r*d  mioflrel  of  thetky. 
Hero  lettne  tnoe  bneiitb  the  purpled  morn* 
The  deep-mootM  bee^,  end  the  sprightly  honi| 
Or  hne  the  trout  with  weU  di»embled  fliee, 
Or  fetch  the  flattering  pectridge  from  the  sfciet. 
Ifer  riieU  thy  hand  diedam  to  crop  the  vine, 
ne  downy  peach,  or  flttveorM  nectarine  ; 
<^  VDb  the  bee-hiire  of  its  golden  hoard, 
ilad  bf«r  til'  nnboogfat  hnniriance  to  thy  board. 
Somethnes  my  books  by  day  shall  UII  the  hoars, 
While  firom  thy  needle  rise  the  silken  lowers, 
And  thou,  by  turns,  to  ease  my  feeble  sight, 
IKflnme  the  iFoiume,  and  deceive  the  night 
Oh !  when  I  mark  thy  twhikling  eyes  oppresty 
Soft  wfaiipering,  let  me  warn  my  love  to  rest; 
Thsa  wat<^  thee,  ohaim'd,  whOe  sleep  locks  ef«ry 


And  to  sweet  Heaven  commend  thy  Innocenoe. 
Thos  reign*d  our  fethers  o^  the  mral  fold. 
Wise,  hale,  and  honest  in  the  days  of  old; 
TBI  eomts  arose,  where  sobstance  pays  for  Aow, 
Aad  spedous  joys  are  bought  with  real  woe. 
See  Flam^speodants,  large,  weU-spread,  and  right, 
The  ear  that  wears  them  hears  a  fool  each  night : 
Maik  how  the  embroider*d  oolooel  «eaks  away, 
Td  ihui  the  withering  dame  that  m«le  Urn  gay ; 
Tliat  knave,  to  gam  a^itle,  lost  hkfiime; 
Thatf«ii>d  hia  credit  by  a  daughter^  shame; 
This  eanomb^  ribband  cost  hfan  half  his  land, 
^oaks,  nnnuitiber«d,  bought  that  fool  a  wand. 
Bmd  man,  as  all  his  sorrows  were  too  few, 
Acquires  strange  wants  that  nature  never  knew, 
Bf  midnight  lamps  he  emulates  the  day, 
Aad  sleeps,  perverse,  the  dieaiful  suns  away ; 
AtMD  goblets  high-embost,  his  wfaie  muA  glide, 
Romd  his  doe'd  stghi  the  gorgeous  curtam  slide; 
rnita  ere  their  time  to  grace  his  pomp  must  rise, 
Aad  three  untasted  courses  glut  his  eyes. 
For  this  are  natore's  gentle  calls  withstood, 
»e  voice  of  ooosdence,  epd  the  bonds  of  blood| 
Tm  wiedom  thy  reward  for  every  pain, 
Aad  tiiis  gay  glory  all  thy  mighty  gauk 
niv  phairtoms  woo»d  and  scom*d  from  age  to  age, 
we  bards  began  to  bugh,  and  priests  to  rage. 
And  yi*,  juit  curse  on  man's  aspiriag  kind, 
rrone  to  ambition,  to  example  blind, 
Ow  children's  children  shaU  our  steps  pursue. 
And  the  tame  errours  be  for  ever  new. 
«sn  while  hi  hope  a  gnihless  country  swain, 
JJy  reed  with  warbUngs  chears  the  hnagfaiM  phun. 
«a  humbly  fhades,  where  truth  and  silence  dwett ! 
»e  noisy  town  and  feithless  court  ferewell  1 
Jwvell  ambition,  once  my  darling  flame ! 
jT^e^um  of  hicro^  and  the  charm  of  feme ! 
jnufe's by-road,  that  whids through  paths m^nown, 
Mfdasrs,  though  nnmber'd,  shall  be  all  my  own. 
HwsAan  they  end,  (O!  might  they  twice  begin) 
And  aU  be  white  the  mes  mtend  to  via. 


A  roBis^iii  nUISB  09 

TBB  JUORN^BOOM. 

^wtw  WDia  A  Frr  WF  tmi  oovt. 

'^  n^gBa  pattsnt,  noe  non  nisi  hidicra 

!* - Podagih  hiBCotia  fecit 

|**|i!  tncient  Book,.|Msl veiiereble ood^ 
^^ttins^  first  c»dle,ldift  last  ibode ! 
▼Oi.  XI. 


Tne  huge  iiimnmibetM  iponmei  lAiRi  ^o  see^ 
By  lazy  plagiaries  are  slol'n  from  thee. 
Yet  fatare  times,  to  thy  su£Bcieot  store. 
Shall  ne'er  presume  to  add  one  letter  mora 

Thee  will  I  sing,  in  comely  wafaiscot  booad^ 
And  ffolden  ve^  enclosing  thee  around; 
The  feithful  horn  before,  from  age  to  age. 
Preserving  thy  invaluable  page ; 
Bdund,  thy  patron  saint  in  armour  ihines^ 
With  sword  and  lance,  to  guard  thy  sacred  Gnet: 
Beneath  his  courser's  feet  the  dragon  lies 
IVansfix'd;  his  Mood  thy  scarlet  cover  ^et; 
Th'  nstnictive  handle  *s  *tthe  bottom  flx'd, 
Lest  wrangling  critics  should  pervet^  the  test 

Or  if  to  gmger-bread  thou  shaH  descend. 
And  liquorish  learning  to  thy  babes  extend ; 
Or  sugar'd  plane,  o^erspreid  with  beaten  wM, 
Does  the  sweet  treasure  of  thy  letters  hold ; 
Thou  still  shah  be  my  sonf—— Apollo's  choir 
I  scorn  t' invoke;  Cadmus  my  verse  inspire : 
Twas  Oadmns  who  the  ferst  maCerials  brought 
Of  all  the  leamiog  which  has  since  been  taug^ 
Soon  made  oompleat!  for  mortals  ne'er  shall  kn0W 
Bfore  than  contain'd  of  old  the  Christ-cross  row; 
What  masters  dictate,  or  what  doctors  preach. 
Wise  matrons  henoe,  e'en  to  oorchildren  teach : 
But  as  the  name  of  every  plant  and  flower 
(So  common  that  each  peasant  knows  its  power) 
Physicians  hi  mysterious  cant  eipress, 
T  amuse  the  patient,  and  enhance  their  fees  ; 
So  from  the  letters  of  our  native  tongne, 
Put  m  Greek  scrawls,  n  mystery  too  is  9ppBm$, 
Sbhools  are  erected,  puazling  grammars  made. 
And  artftd  men  strfte  out  a  gainfbl  trade; 
Strange  characters  adorn  the  learned  gat^. 
And  heedless  youth  catch  at  ^idiining  bait;   ' 
The  pr^nant  boys  the  noby  charms  declare. 
And  Tan's,  and  Delta's  >,  make  their  motheis  stare; 
Hi'  micommon  sounds  amase  the  vulgar  ear. 
And  what 's  uncommon  never  costs  too  dear. 
Yet  in  all  tongues  the  Horn-book  is  the  same, 
tkug^tby  the  Grecian  master,  or  the  Etagfishdame. 

But  how  shall  I  thy  endless  virtues  tell. 
In  which  thou  doist  all  other  books  exoell  ? 
No  greasy  thumbs  thy  notless  leaf  can  soil. 
Nor  crooked  dogs-ears  thy  smooth  comers  spoil ; 
In  Idle  pagpBS  no  errata  stand. 
To  tell  the  blunders  of  the  printer's  hand : 
No  fralsome  dedication  here  is  writ. 
Nor  flattering  verw,  to  praise  the  aothoHs  wit  s 
the  margin  with  no  tedSous  notes  is  vex*d. 
Nor  various  reading  to  oonfound  the  text: 
All  parties  in  thy  literal  saoie  agree. 
Thou  perfect  centre  of  concordancy  I 
Search  we  the  records  of  an  ancient  date,  ' 
Or  read  what  modem  histories  rehtte. 
They  all  proclaim  what  wondeo  have  been  doM 
By  the  plain  letten  taken  as  they  run : 
'*  Too  high  the  floods  of  passion  us'd  to  roQ, 
And  rend  the  Roman  yooih's  impatient  soul; 
His  hasty  anger  frimish'd  scenes  of  blood, 
And  frequent  deaths  of  worthy  men  ensued : 
In  vam  were  all  the  weaker  methods  try'd. 
None  could  snflke  to  stem  the  fiirious  tide, 
Hiy  sacred  line  he  did  hot  once  r^eat. 
And  laid  the  storm,  and  cooTd  the  im^  heat  i,» 

>  The  Greek  letteit  T,  A. 
<The  advice  given  ^  Angnst«i»  by 
^  stole  phtlospphar. 

K 


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lid 


nCKBLL'S  POEMS. 


Thy  hatvcdf  notefy  fike  Mgvlt^  mnrie,  ebetr 
Beptftiiigfoiilf,  and  aooth  the  dviog  ear* 
An  aged  pe8«nt»  on  his  latest  bed, 
Wish'd  ibr  a  friend  loiiie  godly  book  to  read; 
The  pioaf  crandfoo  thy  known  handle  takes. 
And  (eyeeuft  np)  this  savory  lecture  makes: 
<*  Great  V*  he  gravoly  read;  the  hnportant  found 
The  empty  walls  and  haUow  roof  rebound: 
Th'  expiring  ancient  rear'd  his  droot>ing  head, 
And  thank'd  his  stars  that  Hodge  had  leam'd  to  read. 
««OfeatB,>'theyoanker  bawls;  O  heavenly  breath! 
What  ghostly  comforts  in  the  hoar  of  death  f 
Wbath<^peslM!  <« Great C,»pbQaoimc'dthe«oy; 
The  grandsire  dies  with  extasy  of  joy. 

Yet  in  some  lands  soch  ignorance  abounds. 
Whole  parnhes  scarce  kn^  thy  asefiil  sounds. 
Of  EsMX  hundreds  Fune  gifes  this  report, 
3But  FuM,  Iween,  says  many  thmgs  in  ^ort. 
Scarce  lives  the  nan  to  whom  tbou  'rt  quite  un- 
known. 
Though  few  th'  extent  of  thy  vtst  empire  own. 
Whatever  wonders  magic  qpdls  can  do 
On  earth,  in  air,  in  sea,  b  shades  below; 
What  words  profound  and  dark  wise  Mahomet  qpokn. 
When  has  old  cow  an  angels  figure  took; 
What  strong  enchantoMots  sage  Gsnidia  knew. 
Or  Horace  sung,  fieroe  mensters  to  subdue, 

0  mighty  Book,  are  all  oontainM  in  you  1 
All  human  arts,  and  every  science  nuBet, 
Within  the  UmitB  of  thy  single  sheet : 

FhNn  thy  vast  root  all  leanung*s'lMran6hes  grow. 
And  all  her  streams  finom  thy  deq^  fountain  flow. 
And,  k>  t  while  thus  thy  wonders  I  indit^ 
liBspir'd  I  foel  the  power  of  whidL  I  write  ; 
The  genUer  gout  his  focmer  rage  forgets. 
Less  fimiaent  now,  and  less  severe  the  fits : 
Loose  grew  the  <diains  which  bound  my  useless  foot ; 
SMffiMSs  and  pain  from  every  joint  retreat; 
Surprising  stiength  oomes  evecy  moment  on» 

1  stand,  I  step,  I  walk,  and  now  I  ran. 

Here  tot  me  cease,  my  hobbling  numbers'^  step» 
iMat  thy  handle  >  hang  my  crutches  up. 


THERISTESi  oa,  THE  LORDlMG, 

tWM    OaANDSOW    or    A  BftlCKLAYlft,    GfttAT  GSAKn- 
son  or  A  BOTCBSa. 

Tatatms  of  amphibious  breed. 
Motley  finut  of  mongrel  seed : 
By  the  dam  from  lordHngs  sprung. 
By  the  sn«  exhal'd  from  dung : 
Think  on  every  vice  in  both. 
Look  on  him,  and  see  their  growth. 

VWm  him  on  the  mother's  side, 
FUl'd  with  folsehood,  spleen,  and  pride. 
Positive  and  over-bearing, 
Chansing  still,  and  still  adhering, 
spiteful,  peevish,  rude,  untoward, 
fierce  in  tongue,  in  heart  a  coward ; 
When  his  friends  he  most  is  hard  on, 
Cringmg  comes  to  bc^  their  pardon ; 
Reputation  ever  tearing. 
Ever  ^oarest  friendship  swearing ; 
Judginent  weak,  and  passion  strong; 
Always  various,  always  wrong; 


1  VotivaTahola. 


ftor. 


Where  he  loves,  or  where  he  hitei| 
Talks  whatever  oomes  in  hb  head,  • 

Wishee  it  were  all  unsaid. 

Let  me  now  the  vices*  trace. 
From  his  fother*s  scoundrel  race. 
Who  could  give  the  looby  such  airs? 
Were  they  masons  ?  Were  they  butchen  F 
Herald  lend  the  Muse  an  answer, 
FhNn  hii  atavus  and  grandsire ! 
This  wai  dexterous  at  his  trowel. 
That  was  bred  to  kill  a  cow  well  t 
Hence  the  greasy  clumsy  mien. 
In  his  dreis  and  figure  seen : 
Henoe  that  mean  and  sordid  soul^ 
Like  his  body,  rank  and  fool: 
Henoe  that  wild  suspickius  peep. 
Like  a  rogue  that  steals  a  sheep : 
Hence  he  leam'd  thebutdM's  guiK 
How  to  cut  a  throat  and  smile : 
Like  a  botcher  doom'd  for  hfe. 
In  his  mouth  to  wear  his  knifoi 
Hence  he  draws  his  daily  food, 
Fh>m  his  teoaiit*s  vital  blood. 

LasUy,  let  his  gifts  be  try'd. 
Borrowed  from  the  mason-side. 
Some,  perhaps,  may  thmk  himaUn 
In  the  state  to  build  a  Babel; 
Gould  we  place  him  in  a  stataoel 
To  destroy  the  old  foundation.. 
True,  hideed,  I  should  be  gladder 
Could  he  learn  to  mount  a  laddeiv 
May  he  at  his  latter  end 
Mount  alive,  and  dead  descend. 
In  him  tell  me,  whidi  prevail, 
Pemale  vices  most,  or  male  ? 
What  produc'd  them,  oan  you  tdlf 
Human  race,  or  in^  of  Hdl  ? 


OXFORp: 

A  POEM  I. 

nrscautn  to  toan  tensnALx  ' , 

1707. 

Unum  opus  est  intacta  palladis^ttrbem 
Csrminf  perpetuo  celebrar»—  '^ 

Hor.  I  Od.  7. . 

WHitrr  you,  my  kwd,  adorn  that  stately  seat, 
Whereshining  Beauty  makes  her  soft  retreat, 
Eiyoying  all  those  graces,  unoontnd'd, 
Whidi  noblest  3^oaths  would  die  but  to  behold  ; 
Whilst  yon  inhabit  Lowther's  awfbl  pile, 
A  stmctnre  worthy  of  the  founder's  toil ; 

I  Added  by  the  expresi  direction  c^ Dr.  Johnson; 
Inr  whom  they  were  originally  appended  to  his  life 
of  Tickell,  with  this  introduction:  ''The  two  poems 
wlUoh  follow  would  have  been  inserted  in  the  collec- 
tion, if  the  compilers  oould  have  obtained  oepies  of 
them.  To  oooqilete  the  poetical  works  of  TIckdl, 
they  are  here  copied  from  the  Select  Oollectioa  of 
Misoellaneous  Poems,  1780.»    N. 

<  lUchard,  second  ford  viscount  LonedtU  Bt 
diadofthesmaU-poK,Decl,  171X    H.     ' 


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OXFORD. 


131 


Jama^d  we  see  the  former  Lonsdale  3  shine 

In  each  descendant  of  his  noble  line : 

Bat  meet  transported  and  surpriz'd  we  view 

His  aocieiit  gbries  all  revivM  in.  you, 

Whefe  charms  and  virtues  join  their  equal  grace, 

Your  Cither's  godlike  soul,  your  mother's  lovely  fiuie. 

Me  Fortune  and  kind  Heaven*s  indulgent  care 
To  fiunous  Oxford  and  the  Muses  bear. 
Where,  of  all  ranks,  the  blooming  youths  combine 
To  pay  due  homage  to  the  mighty  Nine, 
And  snatch,  with  smiling  joy,  the  laurel  crown. 
Due  to  the  learned  honours  of  the  gown. 
Here  1,  the  meanest  of  the  tuneful  throng, 
Ddnde  the  time  with  an  unhallow'd  song. 
Which  thus  my  thanks  to  much-lov'd  O^ord  pa]^ 
In  no  ungrateful,  though  unartful  lays. 

Where  shall  I  first  the  beauteous  scene  disclose, 
And  all  the  gay  variety  expose  ? 
For  wheresoe'er  I  turn  my  wondering  eyes, 
Aspiring  towers  and  verdant  gruves  arise. 
Immortal  greens  the  smiling  plains  array. 
And  mazy  rivers  murmur  all  the  way^ 

O !  might  your  eyes  behold  each  sparkling  dome. 
And  fredy  o'er  the  beauteous  prospect  roam, 
lesl  ravtshM  your  own  Lowther  you'd  survey, 
Thoogh  pomp  and  state  the  costly  seat  display. 
Where  Art  so  nicely  has  adorn'd  the  place, 
That  Nature's  aid  might  seem  an  use&»s  grace; 
Yet  Nature's  smiles  such  various  charms  impart, 
Ukat  vaip  and  needless  are  the  strokes  of  Ait. 
In  equal  state  our  rising  structures  shine, 
Finam'd  by  such  rules,  and  fbrm'd  by  such  design. 
That  here,  at  once  surpriz'd  and  pleas'd,  we  view 
CNd  Athens  lost  and  conquer'd  iu  the  new ; 
Moreimreet  our  shades,  more  fit  our  bright  abodes 
For  warbling  Muses  and  inspiring  OodSi     [dranght 
Great  Vanbrook's  *  self  might  own  each  aitful 
Equal  to  models  in  his  curious  thought, 
Nor  soom  a  fabric  by  our  plans  to  frame. 
Or  m  immortal  labours  sing  their  lame; 
Both  ways  he  saves  them  from  destroying  Fate, 
If  he  but  praise  them,  or  but  imitate. 

See,  where  the  sacred  Sheldon's  ^  haughty  dome 
Rivals  the  stately  pomp  of  ancient  Rome, 
Whose  form,  so  great  and  noble,  seems  design'd 
T*  express  the  grandeur  of  its  fbunder's  mmd. 
Here,  m  one  lofty  buildmg,  we  heboid 
Whatever  the  Latian  pride  could  boast  of  old. 
IVue,  DO  dire  combats  feed  the  savage  eye. 
And  strew  the  sand  with  spoitive  cr^ty ; 
But,  more  adom'd  with  what  the  Muse  impirei, 
It  &r  ootbhines  their  bloody  theatres, 
lielightful  scene !  when  here,  in  equal  verse. 
The  youthful  bards  their  godlike  queen  rehearse, 
Tp  Oiurqhiirs  wreaths  Apollo's  laurel  join. 
And  smg  the  plains  of  Hockstet  and  Judoign. 

Next  let  the  Muse  record  our  Bodley's  seat  ^, 
Nor  aim  at  numbers,  like  the  subject,  great : 
AU  hail,  thou  &bric,  sacred  to  the  Nine, 
Thy  fiune  immortal,  and  thy  form  divine  f 

•  Sh-  John  Lowther,  one  of  the  early  promoten  of 
Uie  Revolution,  was  constituted  vice-chamberlam 
^king  WUIiam  and  queen  Mary  on  their  advance- 
meat  to  the  throne ;  created  baron  Lowther  and 
visoooiit  Lonsdale,  May  29,  1696;  and  appomted 
lord  privy.teal  in  1699.  He  died  July  10, 1700.  N. 

«%rJohn  Vanbrugh.  N.  ^  The  Theatre.  T 
«TheBodlmiiIibfii7*    71 


Who  to  thy  praise  attempts  the  danferoiis  flight. 
Should  in  thy  various  tongues  be  taught  to  write; 
His  verse, 'like  thee,  a  lofty  dress  should  wear. 
And  breathe  the  genius  which  mhabits  there  ; 
Thy  proper  lajrs  alone  can  make  thee  live. 
And  pay  that  £une,  which  first  thyself  didst  give. 
So  fountains,  which  through  secret  channels  flow. 
And  pour  above  the  floods  they  take  hekiw. 
Back  to  their  father  Ocean  urge  their  way. 
And  to  the  sea,  the  streams  it  gave,  repay. 

No  more  we  fear  the  military  rage, 
Nurs'd  up  in  some  obscure  barbarian  age  | 
Nor  dread  the  ruin  of  our, arts  divine, 
Prom  thick-skull'd  heroes  of  the  Gothic  line, 
Though  pale  the  Romans  saw  those  arras  advance^ 
And  wept  their  learning  lost  in  igoonmcew 
Let  bnUal  rage  around  its  terrours  spTMd^ 
The  living  murder,  and  consume  the  dead. 
In  impious  fires  let  noblest  writings  bum. 
And  with  their  authors  shaie  a  oommon  urn; 
Only,  ye  Fates,  our  lov'd  Bodleian  qpate. 
Be  IT,  and  Learning's  self  sbaU  be  your  care. 
Here  every  art  and  every  gmce  shaU  join, 
Collected  Phmbua  here  alone  shall  sfeJne, 
Each  other  seat  be  dark,  and  this  be  all  dtviae. 
Thus  when  the  Greeks  imperial  Tfoy  defoc'd. 
And  to  the  ground  its  fatal  wallstlebas'd, 
In  vara  they  bum  the  work  of  hands  div^. 
And  vow  destruction  to  the  Dardan  Uaa, 
Whikt  good  .£neas  flies  th'  unequal  wart. 
And,  Vith  his  guardian  gods,  liilus  heirs. 
Old  Troy  for  ever  stands  in  him  akme^ 
And  all  the  Phrygian  kings  survive  in  anew 

Here  still  presides  each  sage's  reverend  diade. 
In  soft  repose  and  easy  granteor  laid  ; 
Their  deathless  works  forbid  thehr  fome  to  die» 
Nor  Tune  itself  their  persoM  shall  de^«y, 
preserv'd  within  the  living  gallery ''. 
What  greater  gift  ooukl  bounteous  Heaveo  besCoir, 
Than  to  be  seen  above,  and  read  below^ 
With  de^  respect  I  bend  my  duteous  head. 
To  see  the  fkithfiii  libansss  of  the  dead; 
But  O  !  what  Muse  can  equal  warmth  impait> 
The  painter's  skill  traoMends  the  poet^  art 
When  round  the  pictur'd  founders  I  descry. 
With  goodness  soft,  and  great  with  nu^esty. 
So  much  of  life  the  artfol  ooioun  give. 
Scarce  more  within  their  colleges  they  live; 
My  blood  b^ns  in  wilder  rounds  to  roll. 
And  pleasing  tumults  combat  in  my  soul ; 
An  humble  awe  my  downcast  eyes  betray. 
And  only  less  than  adoration  pay. 
Such  were  the  Roman  Fathers,  whoi,  o^eroome^ 
They  saw  the  Gauls  insult  o'er  conquer'd  Rome; 
Each  captive  seem'd  the  haughty  vietoi's  lord. 
And  prostrate  chiefs  their  awfiil  slaves  adoPd. 

Such  art  as  this  adorns  jrour  Lowther's  JnU, 
Where  feasting  gods  caroiise  upon  the  wall ; ' 
The  nectar,  which  creating  paint  supplies, 
Intooucates eaqh  pleas'd  spectator's  eyes; 
Who  view,  amaa'd,  the  figures  heavcaly  foir. 
And  think  they  breathe  the  tnw  Eljrsian  air. 
With  strokes  so  bold,  great  Verrio's  hand  has  drvm 
The  gods  in  dwellings  brighter  than  their  own. 

Fir'd  with  a  thouHod  raplxires,^  I  behold. 
What  lively  features  grae'd  each  bard  of  old  ; 
Such  lips,  I  think,  did  guide  his  charmfaif  tongue. 
In  such  an  air  as  this  the  poet  sung; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


18S 


nCKELL'S  POEM& 


flnoh  efM  at  Umw  fjkm^d  wMi  the  tacred  fire. 
And  buidt  tflw  these  eaqpky'd  the  vocal  lyre. 
Quite  raviih'd,  I  pamie  eedi  fanage  o'er. 
And  scarce  admire  their  dcathlewlaboari  mora. 
See  where  the  gloomy  Scaliger  appean. 
Each  shade  is  critiCy  and  each  feature  sneers  ; 
The  artftil  Ben  so  smartly  strikes  the  eje, 
I  more  than  see  a  fency'd  comedy; 
The  muddy  Sootns  erown^  the  motley  diovy 
And  metaphysios  ckad  his  wrfaikled  brow. 
But  distant  awe  invades  my  beatfaig  breast, 
To  see  great  Ormond  m  tiM  paint  exprest; 
With  fear  I  view  the  figure  from  afer. 
Which  bums  with  noble  ardour  for  the  war  s 
But  near  approaches  free  my  doubting  mind, . 
To  view  sttdi  iweetocss  with  such  grandeur  join'd. 

Here  studious  heads  the  graver  tablet  shows. 
And  there  with  martial  waimlh  the  picture  g^oars ; 
The  blooming  youth  here  boasts  a  brighter  hue. 
And  painted  virgms  fer  outilune  the  true. 

Hail,  Colottrs,  which  irith  Nature  bear  a  strife. 
And  only  want  a  voice  to  perfect  life ! 
The  wondering  etranger  makes  a  soddi 
And  pays  low  hoina|e  to  the  lovely  band  ; 
Witliin  each  ftmme  a  real  frur  believes. 
And  vainly  thinks  the  mimic  canvass  lives ; 
Till,  undeoeiv'd,  he  quits  th*  enchanting  shew, 
Pleas'd  with  the  art,  though  he  laments  it  too. 

So  when  his  June  boU  Ixion  woo'd. 
And  aim^d  at  pleasnres  worthy  of  a  god» 
Abeai^teous  ctond  was  fetm'd  by  angry  Jove, 
Kt  to  invite,  ttough  not  nidiilge  his  kive ; 
The  mortal  thought  he  saw  his  goddess  shine. 
And  all  the  lymg  graces  lookM  divine; 
But  whso  with  heat  he  ehwp'd  her  fenoied  charms. 
The  empty  vapour  banlk'd  his  eager  anna. 

Loth  to  depart,  1  leave  th*  inviting  scene, 
Yet  scarce  forbear  to  view  it  o'er  again ; 
But  still  new  ol^ecU  give  a  new  deligfat. 
And  vaiiotts  prospects  Mess  the  wandering  right 

Aloft  in  state  the  airy  towers  arise. 
And  with  new  histre  deck  the  wondering  skies ! 
Lo!  to  what  height  the  sdwols  asoendn^  reach. 
Built  with  that,  art  whidi  they  ahme  can  teach  ; 
The  lofty  dome  eaqiands  her  spacious  gate. 
Where  sdl  the  decent  graces  jointly  wait ; 
In  every  shape  the  god  of  art  resorts. 
And  crouds  of  sages  fill  th*  extended  courts. 

With  wonders  fraught  the  bright  Museum  see. 
Itself  th^  greatest  curiosity ! 
Where  Nature's  oboioest  treasure,  all  oombb'd. 
Delight  at  onoe,  and  quite  coufound  the  mind  ; 
Ten  thousand  qpl^ndours  strike  the  daaaled  eye. 
And  form  on  Baith  another  galaxy. 

Hers  coU^pes  in  sweet  confrislon  rise. 
There  temples  sesm  to  reach  their  native  ikies  ; 
Spires,iOlvers,  and  groves,  compose  the  various  shew. 
And  mfagled  prospects  charm  the  doubting  view; 
Who  can  deny  their  characters  divine, 
'  Without  resplendent,  and  inspir*d  withfai } 
But,  smce  above  my  weak  and  artless  lays. 
Let  their  own  poets  sing  their  equal  praise. 

One  labour  more  my  patefril  verse  renews^ 
And  rears  aloft  the  knr-descendhig  Muse; 
The  building*,  parent  of  my  young  essays. 
Asks  in  return  a  tributary  praise. 

>  Queen's  College  library.  See  the  Poem  on 
Queen  Caroline's  rebuilding  the  Lodgings  of  the 
Black  Prince  and  Henry  V.  p.  101,  the  other  of  the 
•<twopoems*'aUudsdtoinp.  130»    N, 


PiUais  sublime  bear  up  the  learned  wri^ 
And  antk|ue  sages  tread  the  pompous  height; 
Whilst  guardian  Muses  shade  the  h^ipy  pOe^ 
And  all  around  diffuse  promtious  smiles. 
Here  Lancaster,  adora'd  with  eveqr  grace. 
Stands  chief  hi  merit,  as  the  chief  m  placet 
To  his  lov'd  name  our  earliest  lays  belong. 
The  theme  at  once,  and  patron  of  our  song. 
Loi^  may  he  o'er  his  mudi-tov'd  Queen's  preasda^ 
Our  arts  encourage,  and  our  counseb  guide  ; 
T1U  after-ages,  fill'd  with  glad  surprise, 
Behohl  his  image  all  majem  rise. 
Where  now  in  pomp  a  venerable  band. 
Princes  and  queens  and  holy  frtthers,  stand. 
Good  Egglesfield9  chums  homage  from  the  eye. 
And  the  hard  sfone  seems  soft  with  piety  $ 
The  mighty  monarohs  still  the  same  appear. 
And  every  marble  fr^own  provokes  the  war; 
Whilst  rugged  rocks,  mark'd  with  Philippe's  &ce. 
Soften  to  charms,  and  glow  with  new4)oni  grace. 
A  sight  less  noble  did  the  warriors  yield, 
Transfofm'd  to  statoes  by  the  Gor^  shield; 
Distorting  fear  the  coward's  form  confest. 
And  friry  seemM  to  heave  the  hero^  breast; 
The  KfelesB  rocks  each  various  thought  betrv^^ 
And  idl  the  soul  was  m  the  stone  diiplay'd. 

Too  hi^  my  verse,  has  been  thy  danng  ffi^d; 
Thy  softer  numbers  now  the  groves  invite^ 
Where  silent  shades  provoke  the  speaking  lyitff 
And  i^ieariul  d^eoCs  happy  songs  mspire. 
At  onoe  bestow  rewards,  and  thmights  inftiss. 
Compose  a  garland,  and  Supply  a  Muse. 

Bdiold  around,  and  see  the  living  green 
In  native  cokmrs  paints  a  blooming  scene  ; 
Th*  eternal  bods  no  deadly  Wmter  fear, 
But  soom  the  coldest  season  of  the  year  ; 
Apollo  sure  w31  Mess  the  happy  place, 
WhkHi  his  own  Dsphne  condescends  to  graoe^ 
For  here  the  everlasting  laurds  grow. 
In  every  grotto,  and  on  every  brow. 
Prospects  so  gay  demand  a  Congreve's  strains. 
To  ^11  the  gods  and  nymphs  upon  the  plains  ; 
Pan  yields  his  empire  o'er  the  sylvan  throng, 
Pleas'd  to  submit  to  his  superior  song ; 
Great  Denham's  genius  looks  with  rapture  down. 
And  Spenser*s  shade  resigns  the  rural  crown. 

Fill'd  with  great  thoughts,  a  thousand  sages  rove 
Through  every  fiekl  and  solitary  grove ; 
Whose  souls,  ascending  an  exalted  height. 
Out-soar  the  droopmg  Muse's  vulgar  flight. 
That  longs  to  see  her  darliug  votaries  laid 
Beneath  the  oovert  of  some  gentle  shade. 
Where  purling  streems  and  wari>lmg  birds  conspire 
To  aid  th'  enchantments  of  the  trembling  lyire. 

Bear  me,  some  god,  to  Christ-Church,  royal  seat. 
And  lay  me  softly  hi  the  green  retreat, 
MThere  Akfaich  holds  o'er  Wit  the  sormini  power. 
And  crowns  tiie  poets  which  he  tauefat  before. 
To  Aldrich  Britain  owes  her  tunefru  Boyle, 
The  noblest  trophy  of  the  oooquerM  isle  ; 
Who  adds  new  warmth  to  our  poetic  fire. 
And  gives  to  England  the  Hibernian  lyre. 
Philips,  by  Phosbtts  and  his  Aldridi  taught, 
Stegs  with  that  heat  wherewith  his  Chm^  foi^ 
Unfetter'd,  m  great  Milton's  stram  he  writes, 
like  Mihon'S  angels  whilst  his  hero  fights  ; 
Pursues  the  bard,  whilst  he  with  honour  caiV 
Bqiuals  the  poet,  and  eaoels  the  I 


9  Robwt  Bk^asfiild,  a  a  the  foondsr,  ld4a  y. 


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OXFORD. 


155 


0^«r all tiiep1uM,teitr8tiiit» and  wood!  araoiia, 
Tbe  pleurag  Uyt  of  tireeteit  baids  ntoonil ; 
A  fiuthlol  echo  every  OGte  ivftnnify 
And  Uateoiog  mer-godiiiegleot  their  onifi 
When  CbdrngtoQ  '  and  Steele  thor  TRie  imrafai. 
And  form  an  easy,  iiniflbrtwl  itrainy 
A  double  wreath  of  lamel  bindt  their  bioir. 
As  they  are  poets  and  tie  warriori  too. 
IVapp's  lofty  scenes  in  gentle  munbeis  floify 
like  Drjfden  great,  as  soft  as  moving  Rowe. 
When 'youthful  Harrison  < .  with  tnnefol  skill 
Makes  Woodstock ParkscaroeyiddtoCoopees  Hill; 
Old  Chancer  from  th'  Ehrsian  Fields  looks  down. 
And  sees  at  length  a  gemits like  his  own;   . 
Chann'd  wUh  his  lays,  which  reach  the  shades  befcsr, 
Vsir  Rosamonda  intermits  her  woe, 
Foigets  tlie  anguish  of  an  iojur'd  sonl, 
The  fistal  poignard,  and  envenom'd  bowL 

Apollo  smiks  on  Magd*len*s  peaceful  bowsn. 
Perfumes  the  air,  and  paints  the  grot  with  floaefs, 
Where  Yalden  (eam'd  to  gam  the  mjrrtle  erown. 
And  every  Muse  was  fbnd  of  Addisoo. 
Applauded  man !  for  weightier  trusts  deagoM, 
For  once  disdain  not  to  unbend  thy  mind ; 
Thy  mother  Isis  and  her  groves  rehearse, 
A  sttttfect  not  unworthy  of  thy  verse ; 
So  Latian  fields  will  cease  to  boast  thy  praise. 
And  yield  to  Oxford,  painted  in  thy  li^ : 
And  when  the  age  to  come,  firom  envy  free. 
What  thou  to  Virgil  giv*st  shaU  give  to  thee/ 
Isis,  immortal  by  the  poet*a  dull, 
*'  Shall,  in  the  smooth  description,  murmur  still  3  •» 
Neir  beauties  shall  adorn  our  sylvan  scene. 
And  in  thy  nmnbers  grow  for  ever  green. 

Danby's  iam*d  gift  *  sach  verse  as  thine  requhas, 
ficalted  raptnres,  and  celestial  Ares; 
Apollo  here  should  plenteoosty  impart, 
M  well  his  singing,  as  bis  curing  art ; 
Nature  herself  the  healing  garden  loves. 
Which  kindly  her  declining  strength  improves. 
Baffles  tbe  strokes  of  unrelenting  Death, 
Gin  break  his  arrows,  and  can  blunt  hb  teeth. 
'How  sweet  the  landscape !  where,  in  living  trees. 
Here  frowns  a  vegetable  Hercules ! 
There  &m'd  Achilles  learns  to  live  again ; 
And  looks  yet  angry  in  tbe  mimic  scene ; 
Qere  artful  btpds»  which  blooming  arbours  show 
Seem  to  fly  higher,  whilst  they  upwards  grow, 
From  the  same  leaves  both  arms  and  warriors  rise, 
And  erery  bough  a  different  charm  supplies. 
So  when  our  worid  the  preat  Creator  made. 
And,  unadom'd,  the  sluggish  chaos  laid, 
Hornour  and  B^uty  own'd  their  sire  the  same. 
And  Form  itself  from  Parent  Matter  came. 
That  lumpish  mass  alone  was  source  of  all, 
And  Bards  and  Themes  had  one  original. 

In  vain  the  groves  demand  my  longer  stay. 
The  gentle  Isis  wafts  the  Muse  aWay ; 
^ith  ease  the  river  guides  her  wandering  stream, 
And  hastes  to  mingle  with  uxonous  Thame, 

'  The  great  benefector  to  All-souls  College.    K, 

*  Of  whom,  see  Select  Cdlectioo*  vol  iv.  p.  180. 

N. 
'  Letter  from  Italy,,  by  Mr.  Addisoo.     T. 

*  The  Physic-garden  at  Oxford.  This  hint  was 
Wpily  taken  up  in  1713,  by  Dr.  Evans.  See  Select 
CoUecUoD,  1780,  vol.  iii.  p.  145.    A'. 


AUempting  peats  fltt  her  barib  lie  dowii» 
And  quafl^  HMpled,  the  better  HdiooD, 
HarnsookMs  strams  adorn  tiiehr  vaiioos  themes, 
Sweet  as  the  hanks,  and  flonrnig  as  the  streams. 

Bless'd  we,  whom  bounteous  Fortone  here  hae 
thrown. 
And  made  the  various  Uesungs  aU  our  own  I 
Nor  crowns,  nor  globes,  the  pageantry  of  slate^ 
Upon  onr  humble,  easy  slumbers  wait; 
Nor  aught  that  is  AmbitMMi's  lolfy  theme 
Disturbs  oar  sleep,  and  gikia  tbe  gaady  dream. 
Tonch'd  by  no  ills  whwh  vac  th*  nnha^  gieel. 
We  only  read  the  dumges  in  the  state, 
Trinrnphant  Marlberoogh's  arras  at  distance  hear* 
And  learn  flfom  Fame  the  rough  events  of  war  $ 
With  pointed  rhymes  the  GaUks  tyrant  pierost 
And  make  the  cannon  thunder  in  onr  vene. 

See  how  the  matchless  youth  their  hours  improve. 
And  hi  the  glorious  way  to  knowledge  move  I 
Eager  for  ftune,  prevent  the  rishug  Sun, 
And  watch  the  nudnight  labours  of  the  Moon. 
Not  tender  years  thefar  bold  attenqics  restrafai. 
Who  leave  dull  Time,  and  hasten  into  man. 
Pure  to  the  soul,  and  pleashig  to  the  eym, 
like  angels  youUifbl,  and  h*ke  angels  wise. 

Some  learn  the  mighty  deeds  of  ages  gone, 
And,  by  the  Kves  of  heroes,  ibrm  ttaenr  own; 
Nov  view  the  Oramque  Giioak*d  with  heaps  of  slain. 
And  warring  worlds  on  the  Pharsalian  plain; 
Now  hear  th^  trumpets  chmgonr  fmm  afar. 
And  all  ^  dreadful  harmony  of  war; 
Now  trace  those  secret  tricks  that  lost  a  stale. 
And  search  the  fine-spun  arts  that  made  it  great. 
Correct  those  errours  that  its  rum  bred. 
And  bid  some  Kmg-lost  empire  rear  its  aaoieat  head. 

Others,  to  whom  persuasive  arts  hehmg, 
(Words  m  their  k>oks,  and  musie  on  their  tongne) 
Instructed  by  the  wit  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
Learn  richly  to  adorn  their  native  home ; 
Whilst  listening  crowds  confess  the  sweet  smprise. 
With  pleasure  in  th^r  breasts,  and  wonder  in  thdr 
eyes. 

Here  curious  minds  the  latent  seeds  disdoee. 
And  Nature's  darkest  labyrinths  oqpose ; 
Whilst  greater  souls  the  dislant  worlds  descry, 
Pierce  to  the  out-st^etehM  borders  of  the  tky,  [eye. 
Enlarge  the  searching  mind,  and  broad  expand  the 

O  you,  whose  rising  years  so  great  began. 
In  whose  bright  youth  I  read  the  shinmg  man, 
O  Lonsdale,  know  what  noblest  mhxls  a(^;>rove. 
The  thoughts  they  cherish,  and  the  hearts  they  kfve : 
Let  these  examples  your  young  bosom  fire. 
And  bid  your  soul  to  boundless  height  aspire. 
Methinks  I  itee  yov  in  our  shades  rethr'd. 
Alike  admiring,  and  by  all  admir'd : 
Your  eloquence  now  charms  my  ravish'd  ear. 
Which  future  senates  shall  trannorted  hear. 
Now  moumfhl  verse  inspires  a  pleasing  woe. 
And  now  your  cheeks  with  warnke  fury  glow. 
Whilst  on  the  paper  faney*d  fiekls  appear. 
And  prospects  of  imaginary  war; 
Your  martial  soul  sees  Hockstet*s  fatal  plain. 
Or  fights  the  fam*d  Ramilia  o'er  again. 

But  I  in  vam  these  lofty  names  rehearse. 
Above  the  faint  attempts  of  humble  verse. 
Which  Garth  should  in  immortal  strains  dengn. 
Or  Addison  exalt  with  warmth  divine ; 
A  meaner  sung  my  tender  voice  reqmres. 
And  fisinter  lays  confess  the  feinter  fires. 


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134 


TICKELL'S  POEMS.' 


By  Natareflttetf  iior  an  hidnbte  theme, 
A  painted  prospect,  or  a  mannnrmg  ftream, 
1*0  tune  a  valgar  note  in  Echo's  praiee, 
Whilst  £cho*s  self  resounds  the  flattering  lays; 
Or,  whilst  I  tell  how  Myra*8  charms  surprise, 
.  Faint  rosesoo  her  cheeks,  and  suns  within  her  eyes. 
>    O,  did  proportioned  height  to  me  belong,  ' 

Great  Anna's  name  should  grace  th*  ambitious  song ; 
Illustrious  dames  should  round  their  queen  resort, 
And  Lonsdale's  mother  crown  the  splaodid  court ; 
Her  noble  son  dioi^  boast  no  vulgar  place,  .^ 
But  share  the  ancient  honours  of  bis  race ; 
Whilst  each  lair  daughter's  face  and  conquering  eyes 
To  Venus  only  should  submit  the  prize. 
O  matchless  beauties !  more  than  heavenly  fiur. 
Your  looks  resistless,  and  divine  your  air. 
Lot  your  bright  ejres  their  bounteous  bes^  diffiise, 
And  no  fond  Bard  shall  ask  an  useless  Muse; 
Hieir  kindling  rays  excite  a  noble  fire, 
Give  beauty  to  the  song,  and  music  to  the  l3rre. 

This  charming  theme  1  ever  could  pursue. 
And  think  the  inspiration  ever  new. 
Did  not  the  god  my  wandering  pen  refllram; 
And  bring  me  to  his  Oxford  b^^  again. 

Oxford,  the  goddess  Muse^s  native  home. 
Inspired  lik^  Athen;;,  and  adom*d  like  Rome ! 
Hadst  thou  of  old  been  Learning's  fiam'd  retreat, 
AndjMigan  Muses  ch'«e  thy  lovely  seat, 
O,  bow  uidtounded  had  their  fiction  been  ! 
What  fiuicy'd  visions  had  adorn'd  the  acene  1 
Upon  each  hill  a  sylvan  Pan  had  stood, 
And  every  thicket  boasted  of  a  god ; 
Satyrs  haA  frisk'd  in  each  poetic  grove. 
And  nol  a  sream  without  its  nymphs  could  move ; 
Each  summit  had  the  train  of  Muses  show'd, 
And  Hippocrene  in  every  fountain  flowed ; 
The  tales,  adorn'd  with  each  poetic  grace. 
Had  kiok'd  almoit  as  cfaanninf  as  the  place. 


Even  now  we  bear  Hie  woiM  with^mispofti  own 
Those  fictions  by  more  wondrous  truths  onidaiie; 
Here  pure  Eusmia  keeps  her  holy  seat. 
And  Themis  smiles  from  Heaven  on  this  re(rat ; 
Our  chaster  Oiaces  own  refin*d  desires. 
And  all  our  Muses  bum  with  vestal  fires ; 
Whilst  guardian-angels  4|ur  ApoUos  stand, 
Scattering  rich  &voui«  with  a  bounteous  hand. 
To  bless  the  happy  air,  and  sanctify  the  land. 

O  pleasing  shades !  O  ever-green  retreats ! 
Ye  learned  grottoes  !  and  ye  sacred  seats  ! 
Never  may  jrou  poKter  arts  refuse, 
But  entertain  in  peace  the  bashfol  Muse ! 
So  may  you  be  kind  Heaven's  distingnish'd  care. 
And  may  your  fame  be  lasting,  as  'tis  foir ! 
Let  greater  Bards  on  fam'd  Parnassus  dream. 
Or  taste  th'  inspir'd  Heliconian  stream ; 
Yet,  whilst  our  Oxford  is  the  bless'd  abode 
Of  every  Muse,  and  every  tuneful  god, 
Pamastu^  owns  Hs  honours  for  outdone. 
And  Isis  boasts  more  Bards  than  Hdicoo. 

A  thousand  blessings  I  to  Oxford  owe. 
But  you,  my  Lord,  th'  Inspiring  Muse  bestow ; 
Orac'd  with  your  name  th'  unpoltsh'd  poem  shinet. 
You  guard  its  foults,  and  consecrate  the  lines, 
O  might  3rou  here  meet  my  deshriiig  eyes. 
My  drooping  song  to  nobler  heights  would  rise : 
Or  might  I  come  to  breathe  3rour  northerv^  air. 
Yet  should  I  find  an  equal  pleasure  there ; 
Your  presence  would  the  harsher  climate  soothe. 
Hush  every  wind,  and  every  mountain  smooth  ; 
WouM  bid  the  groves  in  springing  pomp  arise. 
And  open  charming  vista's  to  the  e3res ; 
Would  make  my  trifling  veAe  be  heard  around. 
And  sportive  Echo  play  the  em^  sound : 
With  you  I  should  a  better  Phoebus  find, 
And  own  in  you  alone  the  charais  of  Oxfoid  jo-' 


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THE 


POEMS 


JAMES  HAMMONP. 


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THE 

LIFE  OF  HAMMOND- 

BT  DR.  jaHNSON. 


Of  Mr.  HAMMONI^  thoui^  bebe  wdl  remembered  as  a  man  esteemed  and  caressed 
^  tbe  clfgaat  and  tbe  great,  I  was  al  firsi  iMe  to  obtain  no  oilier  memorials  t^ 
as  are  ai^fBed  bj  a  book  called  Ca>ber^s  Lhes  of  the  Poets;  of  which  I  take  tUs 
oppmtnuRy  lo  tertify»  that  H  was  net  written,  nor,  I  l>eliefe,  ever  seen,  by  either  of  the 
Gbbers;  batwastbe  woritof  RobertShids^anatinrdf  Scothmd,amanofveryacota 
mdmlandhig^  thooi^  with  little  schohstic  edncatioo,  who,  not  long  after  the  piibli* 
CBtiooofliiswork,diedkiliNMloaofaeoasnmptkNL  His  life  was  Yirtooas,  apd  his 
and  was  pknis.  TbeophSns  Gbber,  tfien  a  prisoner  for  debt,  imparted,  as  I  was  tokk 
his  naaw  for  ten  guineas.    The  manuscript  of  ^ueb  is  now  in  my  possesskm. 

I  hate  shice  found,  that  Mr.  Shiels,  though  he  was  no  negligent  inquirer,  had  been 
misled  by  felse  accounts;  for  he  rebte^  that  James  Hammond,  the  author  of  the  Ele» 
gpes,  was  the  son  of  a  Turkey  merchant,  and  had  some  office  at  the  prince  of  Wales's 
court,  till  love  of  a  lady,  whose  name  was  Dashwood,  for  a  time  disordered  his  under* 
standing.    He  was  unextniguishably  aoMAous,  and  his  mistress  inexorably  crueL 

Of  this  narrative,  part  is  true,  and  part  felse.  He  was  the  second  son  of  Anthony 
Hammond,  a  man  of  note  among  the  wits,  poets,  and  parliamentary  orators,  m  the 
begfaming  of  this  eentury,  who  was  allied  to  Sr  Robert  Walpole  by  marrymg  his  sister  K 
He  was  bom  about  1710^  and  educated  at  Westminster^chool;  but  it  does  not  qipear 
that  he  was  of  any  university  '.  He  was  equeny  to  the  prince  of  Wales,  and  seems  to 
have  comie  very  esriy  mto  publk  notice,  and  to  have  bieoi  (hstinguished  by  those  whoso 
ftiendsUp  pi^udiced  manldnd  at  that  time  in  fiivoor  of  the  man  on  whom  they  wc«a 
bertowed;  for  he  was  the  conqiamon of  Cobham,  Lyttelton,  and  ChesterfieM.  He  it 
laid  to  have  divided  his  life  between  pleasure  and  books;  in  his  retirement  foigettiag 
the  town,  and  in  his  gaiety  losing  the  student.  Of  liis  literary  hours  all  the  effects  ara 
here  exhibited,  of  which  the  Elegies  wer^  written  very  early,  and  the  Prologue  not  loqg 
before  his  death. 

In  1741,  he  was  diosen  mto  parliament  forlVurom  Cornwall,  probably  one  of  those 
who  were  elected  by  the  prince's  mfluence;  and  died  next  year  in  June  at  Stowe,  tta 
fioBons  seat  of  lord  Cobham.  His  mistress  long  oudived  him,  and  in  1779  died  uk 
laarried.  The  character  which  her  lover  bequeathed  her  vrai^  mdeed,  not  likely  to 
attract  courtship. 

>  Thii  aoooint  is  ftiO  erroneoiis.  Jamei  Hammoiri,  our  ftotlior,  wm  oTa  difierent  haStf^  4w  Mooal 
Nn  of  Antbooy  Hammond,  of  SomenlyuD-pfaioe,  m  the  ooimty  of  Hiroiingdon,  E«|.  ges  Gent  Mifi 
>iiiL  LVa  pw  78a  ,IL 

sUr-ColeghcihimtoOttiibridge.    MSS.  AthsuB  Gnftab.  In  Mih.  Brit    C 

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138  LIFE  OF  HABfMOND. 

The  Elegies  were  published  after  his  death ;  and  while  the  writer^s  name  wail 
bred  with  fondness,  they  were  read  with  a  resolution  to  admire  them« 

The  recommendatory  preface  of  the  editor,  who  was  then  believed,  and  u  now 
affirmed  by  Dr.  Maty,  to  be  the  earl  of  Chesterfield,  raised  strong  prejudices  ia  tbdr 
favour. 

But  of  the  prefacer,  whoever  he  wils,  it  may  be  reasonably  amjpecUd  that  he  never 
read  the  poems;  for  he  professes  to  value  them  for  a  veiy  high  species  of  exoellenoe^ 
and  recommends  them  as  the  genuine  effiisions  of  the  mind,  which  expresses  a  real  ptso 
sion  in  the  language  of  nature.  But  the  truth  is,  these  el^;ies  have  neither  passioii, 
nature,  nor  manners.  Where  there  is  fiction,  there  b  no  passion:  he  tlut  de»^ 
cribes  himself  as  a  shepherd,  and  his  NesKra  or  Delia  as  a  shepherdess,  and  talks  of  goats 
and  l^rabs,  feels  no  passion.  He  that  courts  his  mistress  with  Roman  ianigcry  deserves 
to  \o$e  her;  for  she  may  with  good  reason  suq>ect  his  smcerity.  %p>fMffid'  h««  ffir 
jaituBieota  drawn  from  nature,  and  few  images  from  modem  life.  He  produces  nothing 
but  frigid  pedantiy.  U  would  be  ^ard  to  find  in  jail  biii  pfoductions  three  stameas  that 
deserve  to  be  remembered.  ,        .       •  *   .. 

like  other  lover^  he  threatens  the  laii^  with  dying;  and  wM;  tb^dudl  foUowt 

Wilt  tbou  in  tears  Uiy  kfrtr?k  oocie  attend, .  .•     . 

With  cjTM  averted  Ugbt  thc^folemotpgne. 
TiU  all  around  the  doleful  flames  asoen^ 

Then  slowly  sinkiog,  by  degree^  expire  ?       , 
To  tooth  the  hoveriiig  soul  be  thine  the  care. 

With  plaintive  cries  to  lead  the  mournful  band} 
In  sable  weeds  the  gokleii  vase  to  bear. 

And  cull  my  asbes  with  thy  tianbllDg  hand  I 
Panchaia*8  odobft  be  their  costly  least, 

And  aU  the  pride  of  Asia's  fragrant  3rear, 
Give  them  the  treasurefi  of  the  ^^rthest  East, 

And,  what  is  «till  more  precious,  give  thy  tear, 

Surely  no  blame  can  fall  upon  a  nymph  who  r^ected  a  swain  of  so  little  meaning. 

HisTerses  are  not  rugged,  but  they  have  no  sweetness ;  they  never  glide  in  a  stream 
of  melody.  Why  Hammond  or  o|her  writers  have  thought  the  ^trahi  of  ten  syl- 
lableti  elegiac^  it  is  difiicuit  to  tdL  The  character  of  the  elegy  is  geutieness  and  tennity ; 
but  this  stanca  has  been  pronounced  by  Dryden,  whose  knowledge  of  fjighsh  meti«  was 
not  iocoosidemble,  to  be  the  most  magnifioept  of  all  the  measures  which  our  language 
affords. 


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PREFACE. 

BY  LORD  CHESTERFIELD. 

Tn  fbUoving  Elegies  were  wrote  b^^  a  yoang  gentleman  lately  dead,  and  justly  lamented. 

if  he  bad  never  declared  hit  intentions  coDcermng  their  publication^  a  friend  of  bis,  into  whose  hands 
tky  folly  determined  to  publish  them,  in  the  persuasion,  that  they  would  neither  be  unwelcome  to  the 
pnbfic,  nor  ii^arioui  to  the  memory  of  their  author.  The  reader  must  decide,  whether  this  determina* 
tioB  was  the  result  of  just  judgement,  or  partial  frieoddiip ;  for  the  editor  feels,  and  avows  so  much  o^ 
lltt  latter,  that  he  gives  up  all  pretensions  to  the  former. 

The  Author  compoied  them  ten  years  ago;  before  be  wastwo  and  twenty  years  old;  an  age  when  fohcy 
sad  iftvc'"^*^^  commonly  riot,  at  the  eipence  of  judgement  and  correctness,  neither  of  which  seem  want- 
isgbere.  But  sincere  in  his  love  as  in  his  friendship,  be  wrote  to  his  mistresses,  u  be  spoke  to  his  friendt, 
nothing  bat  the  true  genume  sentiments  of  hisheart;  hesatedowntowrite  what  he' thought,  not  to  think 
whst  he  should  write ;  itwas  nature  and  sentiment  only  that  dictated  to  a  real  mistress,  >ot  youths> 
fol  snd  poetic  foncy,  to  an  imaginary  one.  Elegy  therefore  speaks  here  her  own,  proper,  native  lan- 
guage, the  unaffected  pluntive  language  of  the  teuder  passions ;  the  true  elegiac  dignity  and  simplicity 
tie  picsei-ved,  and  united,  the  one  without  pride,  the  other  vrithout  meanness,  Tibullus  seems  to  have  - 
been  the  model  our  author  judiciously  preferred  to  Ovid ;  the  former  writing  directly  from  the  heart, 
to  the  heart ;  the  latter  too  often  yielding  and  addressing  himself  to  the  imagination. 

Tkt  undissipated  youth  of  the  author,  allowed  him  time  to  apply  himself  to  the  best  masters,  the 
aadeDts,  and  bis  part^  enabled  hhn  to  make  the  best  use  of  tiiem ;  for  upon  those  great  models  of  solid 
soMs  and  virtue,  he  formed  not  only  his  genius,  but  his  beart,  both  well  prepared  by  nature  to  adopt, 
sad  adorn  the  resemblance.  Me  admired  that  justness,  that  noble  smiplicity  of  thought  and  eipression, 
which  have  distii^uisbed,  and  preserved  their  writings  to  this  day;  but  he  revered  that  love  of  their 
comitry,  that  contempt  of  riches,  that  sacredoess  of  friendship,  and  all  those  heroic  and  social  virtues, 
which  marked  them  out  as  the  objects  of  the  veneration,  thougb  not  the  imitation,  of  succeeding  ages>; 
lad  be  looked  back  with  a  kind  of  religious  awe  and  deKght,  upon  those*^orious  and  happy  times  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  when  wisdom,  virtue,  and  liberty  formed  the  only  triumvirates,  ere  luxury  invited 
corruption  to  taint,,  or  corruption  Introduced  slavery  to  destroy,  all  public  and  private  virtues.  In 
ttsse  sentimeats  he  ltved>  and  would  have  lived,  even  m  these  times;  in  these  sentiments  he  died— 4>ut  m 
I  too    Ut  noo  erapta  a  diis  immortalibua  rita,  sed  doaata  mors  esse  videatur. 


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POEMS 


OF 


JAMES  HAMMOND. 


LOVE  ELEGIES. 

Virginlbat  pqerisqne  canta 
FIKflT  PRINTED  IN  1743. 


sLBGnrL 

on  iif  rALLino  m  lotb  wm  mbjra. 

FAREWELL  that  libettj  oar  fiitheit  gmte. 
Id  ymn  they  gave,  thor  loiia  reo«hr*d  in  Tain: 
I  Mv  Nesra,  udher  initaiitalafa» 
Though  bora  a  Britoo,  hugg*d  the  aemle  chain. 
Hflr  oaage  wtUX  repays  niy  coward  heart. 
MMnly  the  trinmphs  in  ber  lover't  Bhame, 
No  healing  joy  reuevei  his  constant  smait. 
No  smile  of  love  rewards  the  kiss  of  fime. 


Ob,  that  to  fed  these  killing  pangs  no  more, 
Ob  Seythian  hills  I  lay  a  senseless  stane» 
Was  fix*d  a  rock  anudst  the  watery  roar. 
And  in  the  vast  Atlantk:  stood  alone, 
idieo,  ye  Mnses,  or  my  passion  aki. 
Why  abookl  I  loiter  by  yonr  kfle  sprmg  ? 
My  Iramble  foice  would  more  one  only  maid, 
I  the  trides  whwh  I  smg. 


Ido  not  ask  tiie  lofty  epic  strain. 
Nor  ftrive  to  paint  the  wonders  of  the  qihert ; 
I  only  sing  one  cruel  maki  to  gain, 
Adieu,  ye  Mnses,  if  she  will  not  hear. 
No  more  in  useless  innocenoe  PU  nine, 
Smoe  gnihy  presents  win  the  greedy  feir, 
rU  tsar  its  honours  from  the  broken  shrine. 
Bat  chiefly  thine,  O  Venus!  willltear. 

Dsoshfd  by  tiiee,  I  kyv'd  a  beanteoos  maid. 
Who  bends  on  sordid  goU  her  low  desires: 
Nor  wofth  nor  passkm  can  her  heart  persuadey 
Bat  LofnoMist  act  what  Avarioe  requires. 

VaviM  who  ifait,  the  charm  of  nature  kMt, 
Wdh  lyrian  punde  soiPd  the  aoowy  sheep  ; 
Uionsiser  still  who  sens  and  mountains  erost. 
To  dig  the  rock,  and  search  the  peaiiy  de^ : 

Tbsse  ooiUy  toys  oor  nUy  ihir  suipfise. 
The  rimnng  fcllies  dicat  their  feeble  w^ 
lasv  hearts,  secure  in  trifles,  lore  deipise, 
TSs  fain  to  court  them,  but  more  vain  to  write. 
Why  did  the  gods  oonoeal  the  little  nund. 
And  eaitidy  thongfats  beneath  a  heavenly  bee  ; 
ioifot  the  worth  that  dignifies  mankind, 
Tit  OMoth  and  poliriiio  ea^  o«lward  giaot  > 


Hence  all  the  blame  that  Lore  and  Venus  bear. 
Hence  pleasure  short,  and  anguish  ever  long. 
Hence  tears  and  sighs,  and  hence  the  peevish  feir« 
The  froward  lover— hence  this  an^  song. 

ELEGfy    IL 

Unable  to  satisfy  the  covetous  Ismper  of  Nena,  1M 
intends  to  make  a  campaign,  and  try,  if  posrihieu 
tofefgether.  ^ 

Adibv,  ye  walls,  that  guard  my  crud  fiifar. 

No  more  PU  sit  in  rosy  fetters  bound. 

My  limbs  have  learnt  the  weight  of  arms  to  bear. 

My  rfNising  spirits  foel  the  trumpet's  sound. 

Few  are  the  nuuds  that  now  on  merit  smile. 

On  spoil  and  war  is  bent  this  iron  age  : 

Yet  pain  and  death  attend  on  war  and  spoi^ 

Unsated  vengeance  and  remorseless  rage. 

To  purchase  spoil,  even  kive  iti^  is  sold. 

Her  lover's  heart  is  least  Neera's  care. 

And  I  through  war  must  seek  detested  gold. 

Not  for  myself,  but  for  my  venal  feir : 

That,  while  she  bends  beneath  the  weight  of  diesi^ 

The  stiffen^  robe  may  spoil  her  easy  mien  { 

And  art  mistaken  make  her  beauty  less. 

While  still  it  hkles  some  graces  better  seen. 

But  if  such  toys  can  win  her  tovely  smile. 

Hers  be  the  wealth  of  Tagus'  golden  sand. 

Hen  the  bright  gems  that  glow  in  Jodia's  soil. 

Hers  the  black  sons  of  Afric*s  sultry  buid. 

To  please  her  eve  let  every  loom 'contend. 

For  her  be  rifled  Ocean's  pearly  bed. 

But  where,  alas  !  would  idle  feney  tend. 

And  soothe  with  dreams  a  youthful  poet*S  bend  } 

Let  others  buy  the  cold  unlovii^  makl. 

In  forc'd  embraces  act  the  tyrant's  pstrt, 

Wliile  I  their  selfish  luxury  upbrak^  . 

And  scorn  the  person  where  I  doubt  the  heail 

Thns  warm'd  by  pride,  I  think  I  to^  no  more^ 

And  hide  in  threats  the  wiaWieis  of  my  mind  > 

In  vam, — though  Reason  fly  the  hated  door. 

Yet  Love,  the  coward  Love,  stUl  lap  behmd. 


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14t 


HAMMOND'S  POEMS. 


ELEGY    nt 

He  npbmidfl  and  tbreatent  the  avirioe  of  Vemn, 

and  resolvet  to  quit  her. 
SaouLD  Jove  deacend  in  floods  of  liquid  ore. 
And  golden  torrcntaatream  from  evwy  part. 
That  craving  bosom  still  woold  heave  for  jnoie. 
Not  all  the  gods  conW  satisfy  thy  heart: 
But  may  thy  folly,  which  can  thus  diadam 
My  hoofst  love,  the  mighty  wrong  repay. 
May  midnight  fire  involve  thy  sordid  gain. 
And  on  the  shining  heaps  of  rapine  prey : 
May  all  the  youths,  like  me,  by  love  deceived. 
Not  quench  the  ruin,  but  applaud  thetfoom  ; 
And,  when  thowdy'st,  may  not  aiie  henit be  griev'd, 
May  not  one  tear  bedew  the  lonely  tomb. 
But  the  deserving,  tender,  generous  maM, 
Whose  only  care  is  her  poor  lover's  mind. 
Though  ruthless  age  may  bid  her  beauty  fode. 
In  every  friend  to  love,  a  friend  shall  find : 
And,  when  the  lamp  of  Cfo  will  bum  no  mofe. 
When  dead  she  seems  aa  m  a  gentle  sleep. 
The  pitying  neig^ibour  shall  her  loss  deplore. 
And  round  the  bier  assembled  lovers  weep : 
With  flowery  garlands,  each  revolving  year. 
Shall  stiow  the  ^ve  where  truth  and  softness  rest. 
Then  home  returning,  drop  the  pioqs  tear, 
And  bid  the  turf  lie  easy  on  her  breast 

ELEGY    IV. 

To  his  friend,  written  under  the  coofinemeot  of  a 
long  fndisposition. 

WaiLB  calm  you  sit  beneath  your  secret  shade, 
And  lose  in  plea»ng  thought  the  summer-day. 
Or  tempt  the  wish  of  some  anpractis'd  maid, 
Whose  heart  at  once  ihclmes  and  foars  to  stray : 
The  sprightly  vigour  of  my  youth  is  fled, 
'  Lonely  and  sick,  on  death  is  all  my  thought, 
Oh,  spave,  Persephone,  this  guiltless  head. 
Love,  too  much  love,  is  all  thy  suppliant's  &ult 
Ko  virgin's  easy  foith  I  e'er  betray'd. 
My  tongue  ne'er  boasted  of  m  fetgn'd  embrace ; 
No  poisons  in  the  cup  have  I  conyey'd. 
Nor  v^'d  destmctkRi  with  a  friendly  foce : 
No  secret  horrours  gnaw  this  quiet  breast, 
This  pious  hand  ne'er  robb'd  the  sacred  fone, 
I  ne'er  disturfo'd  the  gods'  eternal  rest 
With  curses  loud,— but  oft  have  pray'd  m  vain. 
K^stealth  of  Tfane  hat  thinn'd  my  flowmg  hairy 
Nor  Ase  jret  bent  me  with  his  iron  hand : 
Ah!  imy  so  soon  the  tender  blossom  tear ! 
Ere  autumn  yet  the  ripen'd  fruit  demand  } 
Ye  gods,  whoe'er  fai  gloomy  shades  below, 
Now  slowly  tread  your  mdanchoty  round  ;     , 
Now  wandering  view  the  paleful  rivers  flow. 
And  musing  hearken  to  then-  solemn  sound : 
O,  let  me  still  eefofy  the  chearfrd  day, 
Tni,  many  years  unheeded  o'er  me  itril'd, 
Pleaa'd  in  my  age,  I  trifle  life  away, 
And  tell  how  mudi  we  lov'd,  ere  Tgrew  old. 
But  yoo,  who  now,  with  festive  garlands  crowned. 
In  chase  of  pleasure  the  gay  moments  spend. 
By  quick  emoyment  heal  love's  pleasmg  wound. 
And  fritv^  nv  nothing  but  your  absent  frimd* 


ELEOY     V. 

The  lover  it  at  fliat  intlndueed  spealdng  to  Ur  tar* 
vant,  he  aftenrards  addresses  himsdf  to  his  nii»> 
tress,  and  at  last  there  is  n  supposed  intorrkw 
between  than. 

Wrni  wfaie,  more  wme,  deceive  thy  maalar^  enn^ 
TiU  creeping  slumber  sooihe  his  trooblad  I 
Let  not  a  whisper  stir  the  silent  air. 
If  hapless  love  a  while  consent  to  rest 

Untoward  guards  beset  my  Cynthia's  dooit» 
And  cruel  locks  th'  imprison'd  feir  conceal, 
Mav  lightnings  blast  whom  love  in  vain  hiqp] 
And  Jove's  own  thunder  rive  those  boHa  of  s^eaL 
Ah,  gentle  door,  attend  my  humble  call. 
Nor  let  thy  sounding  hinge  our  theft*  betray. 
So  all  my  curses  for  from  thee  shall  foil. 
We  angry  lovers  mean  not  half  we  say. 
Remember  now  the  flowery  wreaths  I  gave^ 
When  first  I  told  thee  of  my  bold  deairea. 
Nor  thou,  O  Cynthia,  fear  the  watchful  sUve, 
Venus  will  fovour  what  herself  inspires. 

She  guides  the  youth  who  see  not  where  tteylfW^^ 

She  shows  the  virgm  how  to  turn  the  door. 

Softly  to  steal  from  off  her  silent  bed. 

And  not  a  step  betray  her  on  the  floor. 

The  feariess  lover  wants  no  beam  of  light. 

The  robber  knows  him,  nor  obstructs  his  way. 

Sacred  he  wanders  through  the  pathless  mght^ 

Belongs  to  Venus,  and  can  never  stray. 

I  scorn  the  chilling  wind,  and  beating  rain. 

Nor  heed  cold  watc^iings  on  the  dewy  ground. 

If  all  the  hardships  I  for  love  sustain. 

With  love's  victorious  joys  at  last  be  crawi^d : 

With  sudden  step  let  none  our  bliss  smpiise. 
Or  check  the  freedom  of  secure  delight- 
Rash  man  beware,  and  shut  thy  curious  eyc^ 
Lest  angry  Venus  snatch  their  guilty  sighL 
But  shouldst  thou  see,  th'  important  secret  hide. 
Though  questkm'd  1^  the  powers  of  Earth  Mid 

Heaven, 
The  prating  tongue  shall  love's  revenge  abUe^ 
Still  sue  for  grace,  and  never  be  forgiven. 
A  wizard-dame,  the  lover's  ancient  friend. 
With  magic  charm  has  deaft  thy  hu^iand's  ear. 
At  her  command  I  saw  the  stars  descend. 
And  winged  ligfatmngs  stop  in  mid  career. 
I  saw  her  stamp,  and  cleave  the  solid  ground. 
While  gastly  q>ectres  round  us  wildly  roam;' 
I  saw  them  hearicen  to  her  potent  sound. 
Till,  scar'dat  day,  they  sought  their  dreary  home. 
At  her  rommand  the  vigorous  summer  pines. 
And  wintery  cloods  obscure  the  hopeftd  year; 
At  headstrong  bidding,  gloomy  winter  shmea. 
And  vernal  roses  on  the  snows  appear. 
She  gave  these  charms,  whidi  I  on  tl^ee  bestow, 
They  dim  the  eye,  and  dull  the  jealous  mind, 
Form^  they  make  a  husband  nodung  know. 
For  me^  and  only  me,  they  make  him  blind : 
But  what  did  most  tii^s  foithfrd  heart  suipria^ 
She  boasted  that  her  skill  could  set  it  free : 
This  foithftil  heart  the  boasted  freedom  flict; 
Hoar  could  it  ventu^  to  abandon  thee  ? 


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tX>VE  BLfiGIfiS^ 


ELBGfY    Vt 


Be  adjoret  Bdia  to  pity  him,  by  their'  frim^bbip 
with  Celia,  who  mn  lately  dead. 

IViootAinM  wottM:  teek  the  kotiiig  peaoeofdoiidiy 
And  in  that  hnbour  shmi  the  efeofm  of  «are» 
Offldooa  hope  atill  holda  the  fleetiiig  breatfap 
She  tsMt  them  8tUl,-^To-aion«w  win  be  fijr. 
She  teOf  mo,  Ddia,  I  shall  thee  obtato. 
Bat  can  I  listen  to  her  tfrea  song,  [chain, 

VflM  seven  slow  months  have  dragged  my  painful 
So  long  thy  loTer,  and  despis'd  so  long? 
By  an  the  joys  thy  dearest  Gelia.  gave, 
lit  not  her  oDoe-lov'd  friend  nipi^  bum  ; 
So  may  her  ashes  find  a  peaceful  grave, 
And  sleep  nninjur'd  in  their  sacred  urn. 
To  her  I  first  avowM  my  tioHmNis  Same, 
She  nure'd  my  hopes,  andtanghtme  how  to  sue^ 
She  stiU  would  pi^  what  the  wise  might  btamOy 
And  feel  Ibr  weakness  which  she  never  knew^ 
Ah,  do  not  grieve  the  dear  lamented  shade. 
That  hovemig  round  us  aU  my  snffijiinga  hears. 
She  is  my  saint,— to  her  my.  iMrajrers  are  made. 
With  oft  repeated  giftst  of  flowers  and  tears : , 

To  her  sad^mb  at  midnigbt  I  reyve. 

And  lonely  sitting  by  the  silent  stoae, 

I  teU  it  aU  the  gnc^my  wrongs  inspire^ 

Hie  marble  image  seems  to  hrar  my  moan : 

Thy  friend's  pale  ghost  shall  vex  Ay  sleepleR  bed, 

And  stand  be&M  thee  all  in  virgin  white ; 

That  rutblesB  bosom  wiU  distmb  the  dead. 

And  caU  Ibrth  pity  firom  eternal  night : 

Cease,  cmd  man,  the  mournful  theme  forbear, 
Though  much  thou  sufier,  to  thyself  complains 
Ah,  to  recal  the  sad  remembrMioe  spare, 
One  tear  from  her  is'more  than  an  thy  pain.  , 

KLBOY    VII. 

On  Delia's  bong  in  the  country,  where  he  sqiposos 
she  stays  to  see  the  harveaL 

Kow  Delia  breatheahi  woods  the  fragrant  air, 
DttU  are  the  hearts  that  stiH  in  town  remain; 
Venus  herself  attends  on  Delia  there. 
And  Cupid  sports  amid  the  sylvan  tram. 
Oh,  with  what  joy,  my  DeKa  to  behold, 
Pd  press  the  spade,  or  wieM  the  weighty  prong, 
Guide  thedow  pkmgh-share  thro*  the  8ti^)boni  mold. 
And  patient  goad  the  loitering  ox  along : 
Hie  scorching  heats  Td  carelessly  despise. 
Nor  heedtiie  blisters  on  my  tender  hand ; 
The  great  ApdUo  wore  the  same  disguise, 
Ubs  me  aolwhwd  to  love's  supreme  command* 
Kb  healing  heibs  could  sooth  their  master's  pain. 
The  art  or  physic  lost,  and  useless  lay. 
To  Peneus*  stieam,  and  Tempe's  shady  plain, 
X  He  drove  his  herds  beneath  the  noon-tide  ray : 

Oft  with  a  bleating  lamb  m  either  arm. 
His  blodiing  sister  saw  him  pace  along; 
Oft  wookl  Us  voice  the  ^lent  yalley  charm. 
Tin  lowing  oaeeq  broke  the  tender  song. 
MThere  are  his  triumphs  }  where  his  warlike  toil  ? 
Where  by  his  darto  the  crested  Pithon  slain  ? 
Where  are  his  Delphi?  his  delit^tfbl  irie  ^ 
The  god  hiBMaif  V  grown  a  pottage  swain. 


145 

O,  Ceres !  m  your  golden  fields  no  more, 
With  harvest's  chearful  pomp,  my  fair  detain,— 
Think  what  for  lost  Proserpina  you  bcnre. 
And  in  a  mother's  angwsh  leeil  my  pain. . 
Our  wiser  fiUhers  left  their  fields  unsown, 
Their  food  was  acorns,  love  their  sole  employ. 
They  met,  they  l&'d,  taey  staid  but  till  alone. 
And  in  each  vaUey  se  itch'd  the  honest  joy. 
No  wakeful  guard,  no  doors  to  stop  desire. 
Thrice  happy  times !— But,  oh !  I  fondly  rave. 
Lead  me  to  DdBa,  aU  her  eyes  inspire 
Pn  da—ril  plough,  or  dig  as  Delia's  slave. 

ELEGY    VilL 
H^  despairs  that  he  shall  ever  possess  Delia; 

Ah,  what  avails  thy  lover's  pious  oore  ? 
His  Lavish  incense  clouds  the  sky  in  vain, 
Nor  wealth  nor  greatuf^ss  was  hw  idle  prayer. 
For  thee  alone  he  prayM,  thee  hop'd  to  gain : 
With  thee  I  hop'd  to  waste  the  pleasing  day. 
Till  in  thy  arms  air  age  of  joy  was  pa^ 
Then,  old  with  love,  insensibly  decay. 
And  on  thy  bosom  gently  breathe  my  last 
I  scorn  the  Lydiai)  river  *s  godden  wave.  * 

And  all  the  vulgar  charms  of  human  life, 
I  only  ask  to  live  my  Delia's  slave, 
And,  when  I  long  have  serv'd  her,  call  her  wife : 
I  only  ask,  of  her  I  love  possCst, 
To  sink,  o'ercofpe  with  bliss,  in  safo  repoae. 
To  strain  her  yielding  beauties  to  my  breart. 
And  kiss  her  wearied  eye-lids  tiU  they  close. 
Attend,  O  Juno  1.  with  thy  tober  ear. 
Attend,  gay  Veni^s,  parent  of  desire; 
This  one  fond  wish,  i£  jrou  refuse  to  bear. 
Oh,  let  me  with  this  sigh  of  love  expire. 

BLEGY  IX. 
He  has  lost  Delia. 

Hs  who  could  first  two  gentle  hearts  unbind. 

And  rob  a  lover  of  his  weepiug  £ilr. 

Hard  was  the  man,  but  harder,  in  my  mind,  - 

The  lover  still,  who  dy'd  not  of  despair : 

With  mean  disguise  let  others  nature  hide, 

And  mhnic  rhtue  with  the  paint  of  art, 

I  aoom  the  cheat  of  reason's  foolish  pride. 

And  boast  the  graceful  weakness  of  my  hearL 

The  more  I  think,  the  more  I  fbel  my  pam. 

And  learn  the  more  each  heavenly  charm  to  prize  ; 

While  fools,  too  light  for  passion,  safe  remain. 

And  dull  sensation  keeps  the  stupid  wise. 

Sbd  is  my  day,  and  sad  my  lingering  night. 
When,  wrapt  in  silent  grief,  I  weep  alone, 
Delia  is  ksst,  and  all  my  past  delight 
Is  now  the  source  of  unavailing  moan. 
Where  is  the  wit  that  heighten'd  beauty's,  charms  i 
Where  is  the  fhcethat  fed  my  longing  eyes  ?, 
Where  is  the  shape  that  might  have  blest  my  arms  ? 
Where  are^hoae  hopes  relentless  Fate  denies  ? 
When  spent  with  endless  grief  I  die  at  last, 
Delia  may  come,  and  see  my  poor  renuufis,— • 
Oh,  Delia !  after  such  an  absence  past, 
Ganat  thou  still  love,  and  not  forget  my  pains  ? 
wot  thou  in  tears  thy  lover's  corse  attend. 
With  eyes  averted  li|^t  the  solemn  pyre, 


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lU 


HAMM OMiyS  POEMS. 


Tffl  aB  mi»a  te  diMUl  ftMMt  aMend^ 
TlMH  tloirtT  flaking,  by  dflgraet  eqm  ) 
To  moUm  th«  iKyveriiiK  aool,  be  tluiie  ^  ew0» 
Witii  plaraUf  e  eiiet  to  ledi  tlw  OKmniRil  bttd» 
In  tfldUfl  weeds  tlie  goktan  tiM  to  bear, 
Jod  oon  my  aabfli  with  thy  tieiDbliqg  band  1 

Pancbaia*!  odom  be  their  ooftly  fnBt» 
And  all  the  piide  of  Ami's  fkagiantyear; 
Oive  them  the  treasnres  ef  the  fiurthesi  East, 
And,  what  is  sttU  moire  preckms,  8^  thy  tear* 
Dyitt  for  thee,  HMna  is  in  death  a  pride. 
Let  all  the  werid  thy  hapless  lover  kn6w. 
No  sUent  am  the  noble  passion  hide, 
But  deeply  gimTsn  tfaos  my  snffisrings  diow : 

«*  Here  lies  a  yoQth,  home  down  with  lofie  and  ears^ 
He  oould  not  kng  bU  Delia's  loss  abide, 
Joy  left  bis  bosom  with  the  paitmg  ftir. 
And  when  ha  dwit  no  longer  hope,  be  dy'd." 

EUBOYX. 
On  Dalit's  bii^^y. 

t^ts^y,  wWch  saw  my  Ddia's  beanty  lise, 
Shan  more  than  an  oar  sacred  days  be  Nest, 
The  world  enamoar>d  ofber  lovely  eyes, 
ahaU  glow  as  good  and  fentle  as  her  breast 

By  Oloorgaardied  sighs,  and  hid  desires, 
Oh,  may  oar  gailtless  love  be  stfll  the  same ! 
I  bam,  and  glory  in  the  plea^  fires, 
]£  Delia's  bosom  diare  the  nmtnal  flame. 

Thoa  happy  geiuus  of  her  natal  boar, 
AoottA  her  mcense,  if  her  thoughts  be  kmd ; 
Bat  let  her  coait  hi  vain  thy  angry  powers 
IT  aU  oar  vows  are  blotted  Drom  her  nund. 

And  thoo,  O  Venus,  bear  mv  r^fateoos  prayer. 
Or  Wpd  the  shepherdess,  or  loose  the  swain. 
Yet  rather  ginid  them  both  with  eqaal  care. 
And  let  them  die  together  m.thy  chahi  s 
What  1  demand,  perhaps  her  iieart  desirss, 
But  virgin  fears  her  nicer  tongoe  reiCratn ; 
The  secret  thought,  which  bhnhfnglovc  imsAm, 
The  oooscioas  eye  am  f aU  aa  wttU  eiplahi. 

ELEGY  XL 

Against  tovors  going  to  war,  in  whidi  he  philoso* 
phicaUy  mefeis  love  and  Delia  totho-moieseri* 
COS  vanities  of  the  woild. 


Ttot  man  who  sharpen'd  first  the  warlike  steel. 
How  fell  and  deadly  was  his  iron  hearty 
He  gave  the  wound  enooontering  nations  feel. 
And  Dsath  grew  stronger  by  bis  fetal  ait  I 

Yet  not  from  steel  debate  and  battle  rose, 
n>  gold  o'ettams  the  even  scale  of  life, 
UMale  is  free  to  an,  and  none  were  fees, 
Tin  partial  Imrary  began  the  itrife. 
Let  spoil  and  victory  adorn  the  bold, 
While  I  inglorioas  neither  hope  nor  fear, 
Perish  the  thirst  of  honour,  thirst  or  goid, 
fire  Ibr  my  absence  Ddia  lose  a  tear : 
Why  should  the  lover  qoit  his  pleasfaig  home^ 
In  search  of  danger  on  some  fereifli  ground ; 
thr  from  his  v^B^faig  feir  nngratdiil  roam, 
And  nh  hi  tvoiy  iHeke  adonble  wonod  ? 


Ah-  oetter  fisr,  oenoaia  hIB  i 
With  cbearfol  friends  todramthe  splMtfy'bfVl^ 
T»  ^  the  beaoties  of  my  dadidii  mttd, 
And  en  the  sweet  Ufla  feast  my  fool : 

Then  frill  oT  love  to  att  he^  <diaitoe  rtlta^ 
And  feld  her  bhnhiiv  to  my  eager  bieast, 
Tdl,  <|aite  o^eroome  wift  sofrnssi,  with  de«f% 
Like  me  shB  pants,  she  fetttto,  and  ihd»  to  m^ 

BLBOY  XIL 
TbDolia. 

No  second  love  shaU  e'er  my  art  smprlie^ 
This  solemn  league  did  first  our  paanon  bind  ? 
Thou,  only  thou,  canst  please  thy  lover^  eye^ 
Thy  voice  alone  ami  soothe  his  troibtod  mini 

Ob,  that  thy  dkanHs  were  only  fiur  to  nMb 
Diq;>lease  aU  others,  and  secure  my  rest. 
No  need  of  envy,— let  me  happy  be^ 
I  little  oar^  that  others  know  me  blest 

Witii  thee  In  gloomy  deserts  let  me  dwdl, 
Where  never  human  feotst^  maifd  the  f 
Thou,  light  of  life,  an  daikness  canM  eqp 
And  seem  a  world  irith  solitnde  aroond. 

I  say  too  much— my  heedlesB  words  restore^ 
My  tongue  undoes  me  in  this  kivb^  hour ; 
Thou  know*st  thy  slrength,andthenceinsul^niore^ 
Win  make  me  feel  the  weight  or  en  thy  power  t 

Whate>er  I  fed,  thy  slave  I  wtU  rema». 
Nor  fiy  the  buitben  I  am  ferm'd  to  bes«v 

In  chains  rU  sit  me  down  at  Venae' fime,    

Sbe  knows  my  wrongs,  and  wiU  regard  my  pfajer. 

ELEGY  XUL 

lie  imagnies  Umself  married  to  Delia,  and  tfial^ 
content  with  each  odier,  they  are  retired  fflfto  the 


Lot  otters  boast  their  heaps  of  shnung  gold. 
And  view  their  fields,  with  waving  plenty  crowii'4* 
Whom  nsighbonring  foes  m  constant  terronrlmM, 
And  trampeti  break  their  slumbers,  i 
WhUe  cahnlv  poor  I  trifle  fife  I 
Eqjoy  sweet  leisure  by  my  chei 
No  wanton  hope  my  ouiet  shan  betray. 
But,  cheq[>ly  blest,  Vu  soora  each  vttn 
With  timely  care  Pn  sow  mv  Utye  fidd. 
And  plant  my  orohard  with  Its  master^  hand. 
Nor  bhnh  to  spread  the  hay,  the  hook  to  wield. 
Or  range  my  sheaves  along  the  oamiy  land. 
If  late  at  dink,  wliUe  carelessly  I  rooai, 
I  meet  a  stroffing  kid,  or  bleatmg  lamfa^ 
Under  my  arm  I'U  bring  the  wanderer  |iQdi^ 
And  not  a  Vttle  chide  its  thoogbtlsm  di^ 

What  Joy^to  hear  the  tempest  howl  m  VoK 
And  chip  a  fearfrd  mistress  to  my  breast  f 
Or  InU'd  to  slumber  by  the  beating  mfaa, 
Seonre  and  happy,  sink  at  last  to  rest } 
Or,  if  the  Son  in  flaming  Leo  ride^ 
By  shady  liveis  indolently  stray. 
And  with  my  Delia,  wolkii^  «!•  bv  slds^ 
Hear  how  they  mnrmnr,  as  they  ^deaiway^ 
What  joy  towind  along  the  oool  iilrent^ 
To  stop,  and  gaze  on  Delia  OS  I  go  ? 
To  mingle  fwest  discourse  witii  kiiles  sweet. 
And  teodi  my  lovdy  scholar  oU  i  kaon  ^ 


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LOVE  ELEGIES. 


145 


Thus  plets'd  attieart,  and  not  with  fancy's  dreatn> 
Id  silent  happiness  I  rest  unknown ; 
Content  wHh  what  I  am,  not  what  I  seem, 
1  live  for  Delia  and  myself  alone. 
Ah,  foolish  man,  who  thus  of  her  possest, 
Could  float  and  wander  with  ambition's  wind, 
And  if  ha  outward  trappings  spoke  him  blest, 
Not  heed  the  sickness  of  his  conscious  mind ! 

With  her  I  scorn  the  idle  breath  of  praise. 

Nor  trust  to  happiness  that  *8  not  our  own ; 

The  sraile  of  fortime  might  suspicion  raise. 

But  here  I  know  that  1  am  lov*d  alone. 

Stanhope,  in  wisdom  as  in  wit  divine, 

May  rise,  and  plead  Britanma's  glorious  cause. 

With  steady  rein  h  s  eager  wit  confinr  ^ 

While  manly  sense  the  deep  attention  draws. 

Let  Stanhope  speak  his  listening  country's  wrongs. 

My  humble  voice  shall  please  one  partial  maid ; 

For-her  alone  I  pen  my  tender  song, 

Securely  sitting  in  his  friendly  shade. 

Stanhope  shall  come,  and  grace  bis  rural  friend, 

Delia  shall  wonder  at  her  noble  guest. 

With  blushihjr  awe  the  riper  fruit  conunend. 

And  for  her  husband's  patron  cull  the  best. 

Hers  be  the  care  of  all  my  little  train. 

While  I  with  tender  indolence  ankbl^t. 

The  favourite  subject  of  her  gentle  reign. 

By  love  alone  distinguish'd  from  the  rest 

For  her  I'll  yoke  my  oxen  to  the  plough. 

In  gkxnny  forests  tend  my  lonely  flock ; 

For  her  a  goat-herd  climb  the  mountain's  brow. 

And  sleep  extended  on  the  n^ed  rock : 

Ah,  what  avails  to  press  the  stately  bed. 

And  far  firom  her  'midst  tasteless  grandeur  weep, 

By  marble  fuimtains  lay  the  pensive  head. 

And,  while  they  murmur,  strive  in  vain  to  sleep  ? 

Delia  alone  can  please,  and  never  tire, 

Exceed  the  paint  of  thought  in  true  delight ; 

With  her,  eqjoyment  wakens  new  desire, 

And  equal  rapture  glows  through  every  night : 

Beaoty  and  worth  in  her  alike  contend. 

To  charm  the  fancy,  and  to  fix  the  mind; 

In  her,  my  wife,  my  mistress,  and  my  friend, 

I  taste  the  joys  of  sense  and  reason  join'd. 

On  her  I'll  gaze,  when  others  loves  are  o'er, 

And  dying  press  her  with  my  clay-cold  hand — 

Thou  weep'st  already,  'as  I  were  no  more, 

Korean  that  gentle  breast  the  thought  withstand. 

Oh,  when  1  die,  my  latest  moments  spare, 

Kor  let  thy  grief  with  sharper  torments  kill. 

Wound  not  thy  ^heeks,  nor  hurt  that  flowing  hair, 

Though  I  am  dead,  my  soul  shall  love  thee  still : 

Oh,  quit  the  room,  oh,  quit  the  deathful  bed, 

Or  thou  wilt  die,  so  tender  is  thy  heart ; 

Oh,  leave  me,  Delia,  ere  thou  see  me  dead, 

These  weeping  friends  will  do  thy  mournful  part : 

Let  them,  extended  on  the  decent  bier. 

Convey  the  corse  in  melancholy  state. 

Through  all  the  village  spread  the  tender  tear, 

While  pitying  maids  our  wondrous  lo\es  relate. 

ELEGY    XIV. 
To  Delia. 

What  scenes  of  bliss  my  raptur'd  fancy  fram'd, 
In  some  lone  spot  with  Peace  and  thee  rwtird  ! 
VOL.  XI. 


Though  reason  then  my  sanguine  fondness  blam'd, 

1  still  believ'd  what  flattenug  love  iiispir'd  : 

But  now  my  wrongs  have  taught  my  humbled  mind. 

To  dangerous  bliss  no  longer  tfy  pretend, 

In  bool^  a  calm,  but  iix/d  content  to  find. 

Safe  joys,  that  On  ourselves  alone  depend : 

With  them  the  gentle  mon»ents  1  beguile. 
In  learned  ease,  and  elegant  delicjht ; 
Compare  the  b^iuties  erf"  each  ditlerent  style. 
Each  various  ray  of  wit's  diffusive  light : 
Now  mark  the  strength  of  Milton's  sacred  lines. 
Sense  rais'd  by  genius,  fancy  rul'd  by  art, 
Where  all  the  ^ory  of  the  Godhead  shines. 
And  earliest  innocence  enchants  the  heart. 

Now,  fir'd  bj'  Pope  dnd  Virtue,  leave  the  age 
In  low  pursuit  of  self-undoing  wrong, 
And  tcace  the  author  through  his  moral  page, 
Whose  blameless  life  still  answers  to  hb  song. 
If  time  and  books  my  lingering  pain  can  heal. 
And  reason  fix  its  empire  o'er  my  heart. 
My  patriot  breast  a  noble  wannth  shall  feel,     ^ 
And  glow  with  love,  where  weakness  has  no  part 

Thy  heart,  O  Lyttelton,  shall  be  my  guide. 
Its  fire  shall  warm  me,  and  its  worth  improve  ; 
Thy  heart,  above  all  envy,  and  all  pride. 
Firm  as  man's  sense,  lypd  soft  as  woman's  love. 
And  you,  O  West,  with  her  your  partner  dear. 
Whom  social  mirth  and  useful  sen^e  commend, 
W^'th  learning's  feast  my  drooping  mind  shidl  chear. 
Glad  to  escape  from  love  to  such  a  friend. 
But  why,  so  long  my  weaker  heart  deceive  ? 
Ah,  still  I  love,  in  pride  and  reason's  spite. 
No  books,  alas !  my  painful  thoughts  relieve. 
And  while  I  threat,  this  Elegy  I  write. 

ELEGY    XV. 
To  Mr.  George  Grenville. 

Oh,  fbnn'd  alike  to  serve  us,  and  to  please  ; 
Polite  with  honesty,  and  leam'd  with  ease  ; 
With  heart  to  act,  with  genius  to  retire  ; 
Open,  yet  wise  ;  though  geutle,  full,  of  fire  : 
With  thee  I  scorn  the  low  constraint  of  art. 
Nor  fear  to  trust  the  follies  of  my  heart  ; 
Hear  then  frosn  wliai  my  long  despair  arose. 
The  faithful  story  of  a  lover's  wofs. 
When,  in  a  sober  mdanelioly  hour, 
Refluc'd  by  sleekness  under  reason's  power, 
I  view'd  my  state,  too  littler  weijrh'd  Ixifore, 
And  liove  himst-jf  could  fiatter  me  no  more, 
My  Delia's  liop^s  I  would  no  more  deceive,    [Icav^; 
But  whom   my   i)assion  hurt,   thnnigh   friendship 
I  chotjc  the  coldest  words  my  heart  to  hide. 
And  cure  hir  sex's  weakness  through  its  pride : 
The  prudence  which  1  taught,  I  ill  pursued. 
The  charm  my  reason  broke,  my  heart  renew 'd  : 
Again  submissive  to  her  feet  I  came. 
And  prov'd  too  well  my  passion  by  my  shame; 
While  she,  stH^ure  in  coldness,  or  disdain, 
rt>r^ot  mv  love,  or  triumph'd  in  its  pain, 
l^eican  with  hiu;hcr  vicv*s  iier  thons;hts  to  raise, 
Atul  scorn'd  the  humble  poet  of  her  praise  : 
r^he  let  ea'li    ittle  lie  o'er  tnith  prevail. 
And  strenutlicn'd  by  her  faith  eaih  gToundless  tale, 
llcUev'd  the  e:rosse<;t  arts  that  malieo  try'd. 
Nor  oner  io  tht)up;iit  was  on  her  lo%'er'8  side  : 
Oh,  where  Wtre  then  the  scenes  of  fancied  life  ? 
Uh,  where  the  tViend,  the  uiu?trev'«5,  and  the  wife  ' 


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146 


HAMMONiyS  POEMSi. 


Her  >  ci«rs  oi  promis'd  love  were  quickly  past. 
Nut  tv  »  revolvinjf  moons  could  see  them  last.— 
1\i  Stow's  delightful  scenes  I  now  repair. 
In  G>bham's  smilft  to  lose  tho  gloom  of  care  ! 
Nur  fear  tliat  he  my  weakness  should  despise, 
In  nature  learnetl,  and  humanely  wise : 
There  Pitt,  in  maimers  soft,  in  fViernlship  warm, 
W  rh  m.ld  ads  ice  my  listening  grief  shall  chann, 
Wjtb  sense  to  counsel,  and  with  wit  to  please, 
A  Roman's  virtue  with  a  courtier's  ea^e. 
Kor  you,  my  triend,  whose  heart  is  still  at  rest, 
Cuntemn  the  huniau  ueakncss  of  my  breast; 
'  Keason  may  elude  the  faults  she  camK>t  cure. 
And  pams,  which  lonj;  we  sc(»rn'd,  we  oft  endure  ; 
Though  wiser  cares  employ  your  studious  mj^, 
Fomrd  with  a  soul  so  elegantly  kind, 
Your  breast  may  lose  the  calm  it  long  has  known. 
And  learn  my  woes  to  pity,  by  its  own. 

ELEGY    XVI. 
To  Miss  Dashwoodf 

0  SAY,  thou  dear  possessor  of  my  breast, 
Wnere  's  now  my  boasted  liberty  and  rest ! 
"U'h'^re  the  gay  Mvvnents  which  1  once  have  known  ! 
O,  where  that  heart  I  frilly  thought  my  own! 
From  place  to  place  I  solitary  roam, 

4broad  uneasy,  not  content  at  homo. 

1  scorn  the  be:iuties  coiiinion  eyes  a^lore; 

The  more  I  view  them,  feel  thy  w«^rth  the  more; 
Unmov'd  I  hear  them  speak,  or  see  them  fair, 
And  only  thmk  on  thee  who  art  not  there. 
In  va«n  would  bo-jka  their  formal  succour  lend. 
Nor  Wit  nor  wisdom  can  relieve  tlieir  friend ; 
Wit  can't  deceive  the  pain  1  now  endure, 
And  A  i^oin  shows  tiie  ill  without  the  cure. 
Viien  r'ix>m  tliv  si^ht  I  waste  the  tedious  diy, 
A  thousand  «;chc,nes  I  form,  and  tKin?;sto  say; 
But  wh<^n  tliy  pre«'nfe  gives  the  time  I  seek, 
My  heart  s  so  fill,  I  *i>h,  bat  canno*  s  eik. 

And  could  1  sj>e:tk  with  eloqtience  and  ease. 
Till  now  no*  studious  of  the  art  to  i)!«'dsc. 
Could  I,  at  woman  who  so  oft  exclnln), 
Exi>os  ■    nor  bhivh)  th"  trlum'»h  and  my  shame, 
Abjui^  tn  .«»  mivj.n^  I  m7  luuly  pri/'d. 
And  conr^  tli.H  stx  I  ff»,  !'-hly  despisM, 
Own  thou  iiist  soften'd  my  o'>rl urate  mind. 
And  thus  reveng'd  the  wrongs  of  womankind : 


Lost  were  my  words,  and  firuitless  all  my  pada* 
In  vain  to  tell  tbee,  all  I  write  in  vain ; 
My  humble  sighB  shall  only  reach  thy  ears. 
And  all  my  eloquence  shall  be  my  tears. 

And  now  (for  more  I  never  must  pretend) 
Hear  me  not  as  thy  lover,  but  thy  friend  ; 
Thousands  will  fain  thy  little  heart  ensnare. 
For  without  danger  none  like  thee  are  fair  ; 
But  wisely  choose  who  best  deserves  thy  flame,^ 
So  shall  the  choice  itself  become  thy  feme  ; 
Nor  yet  despise,  though  void  of  winning  'art. 
The  plain  and  honest  courtship  of  tbe  heart : 
The  skilful  tongue  in  Love's  persuasive  lore. 
Though  less  it  feels,  will  please  and  flatter  more. 
And,  meanly  learned  in  that  guilty  trade. 
Can  long  abuse  a  fond,  unthinking  maid. 
And  since  their  lips  so  knowing  to  deceive. 
Thy  unexperienc'd  youth  might  soon  believe  ; 
And  since  their  tears,  in  false  submission  drest. 
Might  thaw  the  icy  coldness  of  thy  breast  ; 
O  !  shut  thine  eyes  to  such  deceitiiil  woe  : 
Caught  by  tbe  beauty  of  thy  outward  show, 
Ltk^  me  they  do  not  love,  whatever  they  ^eem. 
Like  me — with  passion  founded  on  esteem. 


PROLOGUE 

TO 

LILLO'S  ELMERIC  i  . 

No  laboured  scenes  to  night  adorn  our  staire, 
Lillo's  plain  sense  would  here  the' heart  enga^ 
fie  knew  no  art,  no  rule  ;  but  warmly  thought 
From  passion's  force,  and  as  he  felt,  he  wrote. 
His  Barnwell  once  no  critic's  test  could  bear. 
Yet  from  each  eye  still  draws  the  natural  tear. 
With  generous  candour  hear  his  latest  strains. 
And  let  kind  pity  shelter  his  remains. 
Deprest  by  want,  afflicted  by  disease, 
Dying  he  wrote,  and  dying  wish'd  to  please. 
Oh,  may  that  wish  be  now  humanely  paid. 
And  no  harsh  critic  vex  his  gentle  shade. 
'Tis  yours  his  unsupported  fame  to  save. 
And  bid  one  laurel  grace  his  humble  grave. 

*  See  the  epilogue  to  this  tragedy  among  the 
poems  of  lord  Lyttelton.  In  the  Life*  of  Ijllo  how- 
ever, that  epilogue  is  confidently  ascribed  to  Mr. 
Hammond. 


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THE 


POEMS 


OF 


WILLIAM  SOAfERVILE. 


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TOE 

LIFE  OF  SOMERVILE^ 

BY  DR.  JOHNSON. 


Of  Mr.  SOM£RVIL£'8  life  I  ub  Bot  aUe  to  say  any  tihing  thai  can  iaikfy  curiosity. 

He  was  a gvndmiaii  whose  estate  was  io  Warwickshire;  his  bcHise,  where  he  was 
born  in  1 692  is  called  Edston,  a  seat  inherited  from  a  long  line  of  ancestors;  for  he 
was  said  to  be  of  the  first  fimHiy  in  Us  ooaaty.  He  tells  of  himself,  that  he  was  bora 
Bear  the  Avob^s  banks.  He  was  bred  at  Winchester-scfaooU  and  was  elected  fellow,  of 
New  College.  It  does  not  appear  that  in  the  places  of  his  education  h^  exhibited  any 
ancoBunon  proofe  of  genhis  or  literature.  His  powcfrs  were  first  displayed  in  the  coim- 
try,  where  he  was  distmguished  as  a  poet,  a  gentkaian,  and  a  skiifiil  and  useful  justice 
of  the  peace. 

Of  the  close  of  his  life,  those  whom  his  poems  have  delighted,  will  read  with  pain  the 
foUowmg  account,  copied  from  the  letters  of  his  friend  Shenstone,  by  whom  he  was  too 
much  resembled. 

«  — Our  old  friend  Somervile  is  dead !  I  did  not  imagine  I  could  have  been  so  sorry 
as  I  find  myself  on  this  occasion. — Sublatum  quserimus.  I  can  now  excuse  all  his  foi- 
bles ;  impute  them  to  age,  and  to  distress  of  circumstances :  the  last  of  these  considerations 
wrings  my  very  soul  to  think  on.  For  a  man  of  high  spirit,  conscio^  ofjiaving  (at  least 
in  one  production)  generally  pleased  the  woild,  to  be  plagued  and  threatened  by 
wretches  that  are  low  in  every  sense ;  to  be  forced  to  drink  himself  into  pains  of  the 
body,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  pains  of  the  mind,  is  a  misery/' 

He  died  July  19,  IZ^S,  and  was  buried  at  Wotten,  near  Henley  on  Arden. 

His  distresses  need  not  be  much  pitied :  his  estate  is  said  to  have  been  fifteen  hundred 
a  year,  which  by  his  death  devolved  to  lord  Somervile  of  Scotland.  His  mother 
indeed,  who  lived  till  ninety,  had  a  jointure  of  six  hundred. 

It  is  with  regret  that  I  find  myself  not  better  enabled  to  exhibit  memorials  of  a  wri- 
ter, who  at  least  must  be  allowed  to  have  set  a  good  example  to  men  of  his  own  class, 
by  devoting  part  of  his  time  to  elegant  knowledge ;  and  who  has  shown,  by  the  subjects 
which  his  poetry  has  adorned,  that  it  is  practicable  to  be  at  once  a  skilful  sportsman 
and  a  man  of  letters. 

Somervile  has  tried  many  modes  of  poetry ;  and  though  perhaps  he  has  not  in  any 
reached  such  excellence  as  to  raise  much  envy,  it  may  commonly  be  said  at  least,  that 


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156  UFE  OF  SOMERVILE- 

**  he  writes  very  well  for  a  gentleman."  His  serious  pieces  are  sometimes  elevated,  and 
his  trifles  are  sometimes  elegant.  In  his  verses  to  Addison^  the  couplet  which  mentions 
Clio  is  written  with  the  most  exquisite  delicacy  of  praise ;  it  exhibits  one  of  those  hap|>j 
strokes  tliat  are  seldom  attained.  In  his  Odes  to  Marlborough  there  are  beautiful  lines; 
but  in  the  second  Ode  he  shows  that  he  Iqiew  little  of  his  hero^  when  he  talks  of  his 
private  vurtues*  His  subjects  are  commonly  such  as  require  no  great  depth  of  thought 
or  energy  of  expression.  His  Fables  are  generally  stale,  and  therefore  excite  no  curio- 
sity. Of  hb  favourite.  The  Two  Springs,  the  fiction  is  unnatural,  and  the  moral  incon- 
sequential. In  his  Tales  there  b  too  much  coarseness,  with  too  little  care 'of  language, 
'  and  not  sufficient  rapidity  of  narration. 

Hb  great  work  b  hb  Chase,  which  he, undertook  in  hb  maturer  age,  when  his  ear 
was  ilnproved  to  the  approbation  of  blank  verse,  of  which  however  hb  two  first  lines 
gave  a  bad  specimen.  To  thb  poem  praise  cannot  be  totally  denied.  He  b  allowed 
by  sportsmen  to  write  with  great  intelligence  of  hb  subject,  which  b  the  first  requisite 
to  excellence ;  and  though  it  b  impossible  to  interest  the  common  readers  of  verse  in 
the  dangers  or  pleasures  of  the  chase,  he  has  done  all  that  transition  and  variety  could 
easily  effect ;  and  has  with  great  propriety  enlarged  hb  plan  by  th^  modes  of  hunting 
used  in  other  countries. 

With  still  less  judgment  did  he  chuse  blank  verse  as  the  vehicle  of  Rural  Sports.  If 
blank  verse  be  not  tumid  and  gorgeous,  it  b  crippled  prose ;  and  familiar  images  in 
laboured  language  have  notliing  to  r^ecommend  them  but  absurd  novelty,  which,  want- 
ing the  attractions  of  Nature,  cannot  please  long.  One  excellence  of  The  S{4^idid 
Shilling  is,  that  it  b  short    Dbguise  can  gratify  no  longer  than  it  decdves. 


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POEMS 


OF 


WILLIAM  SOMERVILE. 


THE   CHASE. 

A  POEM. 

Nee  tibi  cura  canum  fiierit  postrema. 

Virg.  Oeorg.  iiL 

Romanis  solenne  viritopiis,  utile  fame, 

Vitsque,  et  membris. 

Hor.  1  £p.  xviiL 


PREFACE. 


THE  old  and  infirm  have  at  least  this  privilege,  that  they  can  recal  to  their  minds  those  scenes  of  joy 
in  which  they  once  delighted,  and  rumhiate  over  their  past  pleasures,  with  a  satisfaction  almost 
equal  to  the  firet  ei^oyment.  For  those  ideas,  to  which  any  agreeable  sensation  is  annexed,  are  ea^^ily 
excited ;  as  leavmg  behind  the  most  strong  and  permanent  impressions.  The  amusemeots  of  our  youth 
are  the  boast  and  comfort  of  our  decUning  years.  The  ancients  carried  this  notion  even  yet  further,  and 
sunrased  their  heroes  m  the  Elysian  Fields  were  fond  of  the  yer^  same  diversions  they  exercised  on 
•rth.    Death  itself  could  not  wean  them  from  the  accustomed  sports  and  gayetks  of  life. 

Pars  in  gramineis  exercent  membra  jwlastris  j 
Contendunt  ludo,  ct  fulvi  luctantur  aren4 : 
Pars  pedibus  plaudunt  choreas,  et  carmina  dicunL 
Arma  procul,  currusque  viriim  miratiur  inanes. 
Stant  terrA  defixas  hastas,  passimque  soluti 
Per  campum  pascuntur  equi/    Quae  gratia  curr^ , 
Armorumque  ftiit  vivis,  quae  cura  nitentes 
Pascere  equos,  eadem  sequitur  tellure  repostos. 

Virg.  .£neid.  vi. 

Part  on  the  grassy  cirque  their  pliant  limbs 
In  wrestling  exercise,  or  on  the  sands  , 

y  Struggling  dispute  the  prize.     Part  lead  the  ring, 

Or  swell  the  chorus  with  alternate  Jays. 


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15«  '  SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 

The  chief  their  arms  admires,  their  empty  caw, 
Their  lances  fix  d  m  earth.     Tb'  unbamess'd  steedf 
Graze  unrestrained ;  horses,  and  cars,  and  arms, 
All  the  same  fond  desiitis,  and  pleasing  cares, 
Still  bamit  their  shades,  alld  after  death  survive. 

I  hope  therefore  I  may  be  indulged  (even  by  the  more  grave  and  censorious  part  of  mankind)  if  at  my 
leisure  hours,  I  run  over,  ii\  my  elbow-chair,  some  of  those  chases,  which  ^ere  once  the  delight  of  a 
more  vigorous  age.  It  is  an  entertaining,  and  (as  I  conceive)  a  very  innocent  amusement.  The  result 
of  these  rambling  imaginations  will  be  found  in  the  following  poem  ;  which  if  equally  diverting  to  my 
readers,  as  to  myself,  I  shall  have  gained  my  end.  I  have  intermixed  the  preceptive  parts  with  so  many 
descriptions  and  digressions  in  the  Georgic  manner,  that  I  hope  they  will  >not  be  tedious.  I  am  sure 
tliey  are  very  necessary  to  be  well  understood  by  any  gentleman,  who  would  enjoy  this  noble  sport  in 
full  perfection.  In  this  at  least  I  may  comfort  myself,  that  I  cannot  trespass  upon  their  patience  more 
than  Markbam,  Blome,  asd  the  other  prose  writers  upon  this  subject. 

It  is  most  certam,  that  hunting  was  the  exercise  of  the  greatest  heroes  in  ant)<|uity.  By  this  they 
formed  themselves  for  war ;' and  their  exploits  against  wild  beasts  were  a  prelude  to  their  other  vic- 
tories. Xenophon  says,  that  almost  all  the  ancient  heroes,  Nestor,  Theseus,  Castor,  Pollux,  Ulysses, 
Diomedes,  Achilles,  &c.  were  fuJnl^i  uvmytgim,  disciples  of  hunting ;  being  taught  carefully  that  art,  as 
what  would  be  highly  serviceable  to  them  in  military  discipline.  Xen.  Cynegetic  And  Pliny  observes^ 
those  who  were  designed  for  great  captains,  were  first 'taught  certare  cum  fiigacibus  feris  corsu,  com 
audacibus  robore,  cum  callidis  astu-.  to  contest  with  the  swiftest  wild  beasts,  in  speed;  with  the 
boldest,  in  strength ;  with  the  most  cunning,  in  craft  and  subtilty.  Plin.  Panegyr.  And  the  Roman 
emperors,  in  those  monuments  they  erected  to  transmit  their  actions  to  future  ages,  made  no  scruple 
to  join  the  glories  of  the  chase  to  their  most  celebrated  triumphs.  Neither  were  there  poets  wanting 
to  do  justice  to  this  heroic  exercise.  Beside  that  of  Oppian  in  Greek,  we  have  several  poems  in 
I^tin  upon  hunting.    Gratius  was  contemporary  with  Ovid ;  as  appears  by  this  verse  j 

Aptaque  venanti  Gratius  axma  dabit. 

Lib.  iv.  Foot 
Gratius  shall  arm  the  huntsman  for  the  chase. 

But  of  his  works  only  some  fragments  remain.  There  are  many  Others  of  more  modem  date. 
Amongst  these  Nemesianus,  who  seems  very  much  superior  to  Gratius,  though  of  a  more  degenerate 
age.  But  only  a  fragment  of  his  first  book  is  preserved.  We  might  indeed  have  expected  to  have  seen  it 
treated  more  at  large  by  Virgil  in  his  third  Georgic,  since  it  is  expressly  part  of  his  subject  But  be 
has  favoured  us  only  with  ten  verses ;  and  what  he  says  of  dogs,  relates  wholly  to  greyhounds  and 
mai>tifis. 

Veloces  Spartos  catjxlos,  acremque  molostfum.. 

Georg.  iiL 

The  greyhound  swift,  and  mastifi^s  furious  breed. 

And  he  directs  us  to  feed  them  with  botter^miUL  Pasce  sero  piagui.  He  ha%  it  is  trne,  touched  upon 
the  chase  in  the  4th  and  7th  b  tuks  of  the  £neid«  But  it  is  evkieoty  that  the  art  of  hunting  is  very 
different  bow.  from  what  it  was  in  his  days,  and  very  much  akered  and  maproved  in  these  latter 
ages.-  It  does  not  appear  to  me,  thht  the  ancients  had  any  notion  of  pursomg  wild  beasts  by  the  scent 
only,  with  a  regular  and  weU-diiciptiBad  pack  of  hounds;  and  therefore  they  mast  have  passed  for 
poachers  ^mongst  our  modem  sportsmen.  The  muster-roll  given  us  by  Ovid,  in  his  story  of  Actieon,  is 
of  all  sorts  of  dogs,  and  of  all  countries.  And 'the  description  of  the  ancient 'hunting,  as  we  find  it 
in  the  antiquities  of  Pera  de  Montfisucon,  taken  from  the  sepulchre  of  the  Nasos,  and  the  arch  of 
Constantine,  has  not  the  least  trace  of  the  manner  now  in  use. 

Whenever  the  ancients  mention  dogs  following  by  the  scent,  they  mean  no  more  than  finding  out  the 
game  by  the  nose  of  one  single  dog.  This  was  as  much  as  they  knew  of  the  odora  canum  vis.  Thus 
Nemesianus  ^ys, 

Odorato  noscunt  vestigia  prato, 
Atque  etiam  ieporum^secreta  cubilia  monstnuot. 

They  challenge  on  the  mead  the  recent  stains^ 
And  trail  the  hare  unto  her  secret  form* 


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THE  CHASE.  15S 

Oppisn  has  a  long  description  of  these  dogs  m  his  first  book,  from  ver.  479  to  526.  And  here, 
tbougfa  he  seems  to  describe  the  hunting  of  the  hare  by  the  scent  through  many  turnings  and  windings ; 
yet  he  really  says  no  more,  than  that  one  of  those  hounds,  which  he  calls  ix^nwryi^,  finds  out  the  game. 
For  he  follows  the  scent  no  further  than  the  hare*s  form ;  from  whence,  after  he  has  started  her,  he 
pOTsnes  her  by  sight  I  am  indebted  for  these  two  last  remarks  to  a  reverend  and  very  learned  gen- 
tleman, whose  judgment  in  the  belles  lettres  nobody  disputes,  and  whose  approbation  gave  me  the  assu- 
rance to  publish  this  poem. 

Oppian  also  observes,  that  the  best  sort  of  these  finders  were  brought  from  Britain ;  this  island 
having  always  been  famous  (as  it  is  at  this  day)  for  the  best  breed  of  hounds,  for  persons  the  best 
ikilled  in  the  art  of  hunting,  and  for  horses  the  most  enduring  to  follow  the  chase.  Jt  is  therefore 
itrange,  that  none  of  our  pbets  have  yet  thought  it  worth  their  while  to  treat  of  this  subject ;  which  is 
withoxit  doubt  very  noble  in  itself,  and  very  well  adapted  to  receive  the  most  beautiful  turns  of  poetry. 
Periiaps  our  poets  have  no  great  genius  for  hunting.  Yet  I  hope,  my  brethren  of  the  couples,  by  en- 
oooraging  this  first,  but  imperfect,  essay,  will  show  the  world  they  have  at  least  some  taste  for  poetry. 

The  ancients  esteemed  hunting,  not  only  as  a  manly  and  warlike  exercise,  but  as  highly  con- 
iative  to  health.  The  famous  Galen  recommends  it  above  all  others,  as  not  only  exercising  th^body, 
but  giving  deUght  and  entertainment  to  the  mind.  And  he  caUs  the  inveotori  of  this  art  wisa  meot 
and  well  skilled  m  human  nataxe.    Lib.  de  parvae  pilse  excrcitio. 

The  gentlemen,' who  are  fond  of  a  gingle  at  the  close  of  every  verse,  and  tbyik  no  poem  truly  mu- 
ncal  but  what  is  in  rhyme,  will  here  find  themselves  disappointed.  If  they  be  pleased  to  read  over  the 
ihOft  preface  before  the  Paradise  Lost,  Mr.  Smith's  poem  in  memory  of  his  friend  Mr.  John  Pbilipg,  and 
the  Archbishop  of  Cambray's  letter  to  Monsieur  Fontenelle,  they  may  probably  be  of  another  opinion. 
For  my  own  part,  I  shall  not  be  ashamed  to  follow  the  example  of  Milton,  Philips,  Thomson^  and  all 
oar  best  tragic  writers. 

Some  few  terms  of  art  are  dispersed  here  and  there ;  but  such  only  as  ave  abaohitely  requisite  to 
explain  my  subject.  I  hope  in  this  the  critics  will  excuse  me ;  for  I  am  humbly  of  opinion,  that  the 
affectation,  and  not  ^e  necessary  use,  is  the  proper  object  of  their  censiue.  ^ 

But  I  have  done.  I  know  the  unpatience  of  my  brethren^  when  a  fine  day,  and  the  concert  of  the 
lEennel,  invite  them  alvoad.  I  shftU  therefore  leave  my  reader  to  such  diversion  as  he  may  find  in  the 
poemit8d£. 

fin  age,  segaes, 
Rumpe  moras ;  vocat  ingentj  olamore  Cithoeron* 
,,  Taygetique  canes,  domitrixque  Epideiiroi  equorum; 

£t  vox  assensu  nemormn  ingeminata  renmgit. 

Virg.  Qeorg.  iii. 

^  Hark,  away, 

Cast  fiir  behind  the  lingering  cares  of  life. 
Cithasron  calls  alood,  and  in  full  cry 
Thy  hounds,  Taygetus.    Epidaurus  trairik 
For  us  the  generous  steed ;  the  hunter's  shout«g 
And  cbearing  cries,  astenthig  woods  return. 


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154 


SOMERVILE^  POEMS, 


H^ILUAM  SOMERVILE,  Esq. 

ON  Hit  POBM  C 41.1.10 

THE  CHASE. 

While  you,  sir,  gain  the  8teq>  ascent  to  hme, 
And  honours  doe  to  deathless  merit  claim; 
To  a  weak  Muse  a  kind  indulgence  lend, 
Fond  with  just  praise  your  labours  to  commend. 
And  tell  tSae  world  that  Somervile's  her  friend. 
Her  incense,  guiltless  of  the  forms  of  art. 
Breathes  all  the  huntsman's  honesty  of  heart; 
Whose  fancy  still  the  pleasing  scene  retains 
Of  Ednc's  villa,  and  Ardenna's  plains  : 
Joys  which  from  change  superior  charms  receiv'd. 
The  horn  hoarse  sounding  by  the  Ijrre  relievM : 
When  the  day,  crown'd  with  rural  chaste  delight, « 
Resigns  obsequious  to  the  festive  night ; 
The  festive  night  awakes  th'  harmonious  lay. 
And  in  sweet  verse  recounts  the  triumphs  of  the  day. 
Strange !  that  the  British  Muse  should  leave  so 
long. 
The  Chase,  the  sport  of  Britain's  kings,  unsung ! 
DistinguishU  land  !  by  Heaven  mdulg'd  to  breed 
The  stout,  sagacious  hound,  and  generous  steed  ; 
In  vain !  while  yet  no  bard  adom'd  our  isle. 
To  celebrate  the  glorious  sylvan  toil. 
For  this  what  darling  son  shall  feel  thy  fire, 
God  of  th'  unerring  bow,  and  tuneful  lyre  ? 
Our  vows  are  heard — Atteod^ye  vocal  throngs 
Somervile  meditates  th'  adventurous  song. 
Bold  to  attempt,  and  happy  to  excel. 
His  numerous  verse  the  huntsman's  art  shall  telL 
From  him,  ye  British  youths,  a  vigoruiis  race, 
Imbibe  the  various  science  of  the  chase  j 
,  And  while  the  well-plann'd  system  you  admire. 
Know  Brunswick  only  could-the  work  inspire; 
A  Georgic  Muse  awaits  Augustan  days,'  [bays. 

And  Somerfiles  will  ling,  when  Frederics  give  the 

John  Nueom. 


THE  AUTHOR 

of 
THE  CHASE. 
Okcb  more,  my  friend,  I  touch  the  trembling  lyie. 
And  in  my  bosom  feel  poetic  fire. 
For  thee  1  quit  the  law's  more  rugged  ways. 
To  pay  my  humble  tribote  to  thy  lajrs. 
What,  though  I  daily  turn  each  learned  sage. 
And  labour  through  the  unenlightened  page  : 
Wak'd  by  thy  lines,  the  borrowed  flames  I  feel. 
As  flints  give  fire  when  aided  by  the  steeL 
Though  in  sulphureous  clouds  of  smoke  confii^d. 
Thy  rural  scenes  spring  fresh  into  my  mind. 
Thy  genius  in  such  colours  paints  the  chane. 
The  real  to  fictitious  jo3rs  give  place. 
When  the  wild  music  charms  my  ravish'd  ear. 
How  dull,  how  tastelt^  Handel's  notes  appear  ! 
Ev'n  Farinelii's  self  the  palm  resigns. 
He  yields— but  to  the  music  nf  thy  lines. 
If  friends  to  poetry  can  yet  be  found. 
Who  without  blushing  sense  prefer  to  sound  ; 
Then  let  this  soft,  this  soul-enfeebling  band. 
These  warbling  minstrels,  quit  the  beggar'd  land. 
They  but  a  momentary  joy  impart, 
Tis  you,  who  touch  the  soul,  and  warm  the  heart. 
How  tempting  do  thy  sylvan  sports  appear ! 
fiv'n  wild  Ambition  miglit  vouchafe  an  ear. 
Might  her  fond  lust  of  power  a  while  compose. 
And  gladly  change  it  for  thy  sweet  repose*  '    . 

No  fierce,  unruly  senates,  threaten  here. 
No  axe,  no  scaffold,  to  the  view  appear,  , 

No  envy,  disappointment,  and  despair. 
Here,  blest  vicissitude,  whene'er  you  please. 
You  step  from  exercise  to  learned  ease : 
Turn  o'er  each  classic  page,  each  beauty  trace. 
The  mind  unwearied  in  the  pleasing  chase. 
oK  !  would  kind  Heaven  such  happiness  bestoir, 
1^  fools,  let  knaves,  be  masters  hoe  below. 
Grandeur  and  place,  those  baits  to  catch  the  wise. 
And  all  their  pageant  train,  I  pity  and  despise. 

J.  Teacy. 


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THE   CHASE. 


BOOK    L 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

The  solject  proposed.  Address  to  h»  ro3ral  high- 
ne»  the  prince.  The  origin  of  hunting.  The 
rode  aad  unpolished  manner  of  the  first  hunters. 
Beasts  at  first  hunted  for  food  and  sacrifice. 
The  grant  made  by  God  to  man  of  the  beasts,  &c. 
The  regular  manner  of  hunting  first  brought  into 
this  island  by  the  Normans.  The  best  hounds 
•nd  best  hones  bred  here.  The  advanUge  of 
this  exercise  to  us,  as  islanders.  Address  to 
gentlemen  of  estates.  Situation  of  the  kennel 
and  its  several  courts.  The  dirersiun  and  em- 
plo3rment  of  hounds  in  the  kennel.  The  different 
sorts  of  hounds  for  each  different  chase.  De- 
scriptioo  of  a  perfect  hound.  Of  sizing  and  sort- 
ing of  hounds,  the  middle-sized  hound  recom- 
mended. Of  the  large  deep-mouthed  hound  for 
hunting  the  stag  and  otter.  Of  the  lime-hound ; 
their  use  on  the  borders  of  England  and  Scotland. 
A  physical  account  of  scents.  Of  good  and  bad 
scenting  days.  A  short  admonition  to  my  bre- 
thren of  the  couples. 

Thx  Chase  1  sing,  hounds,  and  their  various  breed, 
And  no  less  various  use.    O  thou,  great  prince  ! 
Whom  Cambria's  towering  hills  procUim  their  lord, 
Deign  thou  to  hear  my  bold,  instructive  song. 
While  grateful  citizens  with  pompons  show. 
Rear  the  triomphal  arch,  rich  with  th*  exploits 
Of  thy  illustrious  house ;  while  virgins  pave 
lliy  way  with  flowers,  and,  as  the  royal  youth 
Passing  they  view,  admire  and  siicb  in  vain ; 
While  crowded  theatres,  too  fondly  proud 
Of  their  exotic  minstrels,  and  shrill  pipes. 
The  price  of  manhood,  hail  thee  with  a  song. 
And  airs  soft-warbling  ;  my  hoarse-sounding  horn 
Invites  thee  to  the  ChauK,  the  sport  of  kings ; 
Image  of  war,  without  its  guilt     The  Muse 
Akift  on  wing  shall  soar,  copduct  with  care 
Thy  ibanung  courser  o'er  the  steepy  rock, 
Or  on  the  river  bank  receive  thee  safe, 
Light4)oandfng  o'er  the  wave,  from  shore  to  shore. 
Be  thou  our  great  protector,  gracious  youth  ! 
And  if,  in  future  times,  some  envious  prince. 
Careless  of  right,  and  guileful,  should  invade 
Thy  Britain's  comroei*ce,  or  shouM  strive  in  vain 
To  wrest  the  balance  from  thy  equal  hand  ; 
Thy  hunter-train,  in  cheaHul  green  array'd, 
(A  band  undaunted,  and  inur'd  to  toils) 
Siall  compass  thee  around,  die  at  thy  feet,    > 
Or  hew  thy  passage  through  th'  embattled  foe. 
And  clear  thy  way  to  fiune :  inspired  by  thee 
The  nobler  chase  of  gkny  shall  pursue  [death. 

Through  fire,  and  smoke,  and  blood,  and  fields  of 

Nature,  in  her  productions  slow,  aq;rires 
By  just  degrees  to  reach  perfection's  height : 
So  mimic  Art  works  leisurely,  till  Time 
Improve  the  piece,  or  wise  Experience  eive 
The  proper  fiinishing.     When  Nimrpd  bold, 
Tbat  mighty  hunter,  first  made  war  on  beasts. 
And  stain'd  the  woodland-green  with  purple  dye, 


New,  and  unpoHsh*d  was  the  huntsman's  art ; 

No  stated  rule,  his  wanton  vill  lijs  guide. 

With  clubs  and  stones,  rude  implements  of  war. 

He  arm'd  his  savage  bands,  a  multitude 

Untrain'd ;  of  twining  osiers  formed,  they  pitch 

Their  artless  toils,  then  range  the  desert  hills. 

And  scower  the  plains  below;  the  trembling  herd 

Start  at  th'  unusual  sound,  and  clamorous  shout 

Unheard  before ;  surpris'd,  alas !  to  find         ( lr>rd, 

Man  now  their  foe,  whom  erst  they  de^m'd  their 

But  mild  and  gentle,  and  by  whom  as  yet 

Secure  they  graz'd.     Death  stretches  o'er  the  plain 

Widc'Wasting,  and  grim  slaughter  red  with  blood : 

Urg'd  on  by  hunger  keen,  th^  wound,  they  kill. 

Their  rage  licentious  knows  no  bound  ;  at  last, 

Kncumber'd  with  their  spoils,  joyful  they  bear 

Upon  their  shoulders  broad  the  bleeding  prey. 

Part  on  their  altars  smoke  a  sacrifice 

To  that  all-gracious  Power,  whose  bounteous  hand 

Supports  his  wide  creation ;  what  remains 

On  livttig  coals  they  broil,  inelegant 

Of  taste,  nor  skill'd  as  yet  in  nicer  arts 

Of  pamper'd  luxury.     Devodon  pure, 

And  strong  necessity,  thus  first  began 

The  chase  of  beasts  :  though  bloody  was  the  deed. 

Yet  without  guilt     For  the  green  herb  alone 

Unequal  to  sustain  man's  labouring  race, 

Now  every  movmg  thing  that  liv'd  on  Earth 

Was  granted  him  for  food  ».     So  just  is  Heaven, 

To  give  us  in  proportion  to  our  wants. 

Or  chance  or  industry  in  after-tinte 
Some  few  improvements  made,  but  short  as  y(»t 
Of  due  perfection.     In  this  isle  remote 
Our  painted  ancestors  were  slow  to  learn. 
To  arms  devote,  of  the  politer  arts 
Nor  skill'd  nor  studious ;  till  firom  Neustria's  coasts 
Victorious  William,  to  more  decent  rules 
Subdu'd  our  Saxon  fathers,  taught  to  speak 
The  proper  dialect,  with  horn  and  voice 
To  cheer  the  busy  hound,  who&e  well-knswn  cry 
His  listening  peers  approve  with  joint  acclaim. 
From  him  successive  huntsmen  leam'd  to  join 
In  bloody  social  leagues,  the  multitude 
Di^pers'd ;  to  size,  to  sort  their  various  tribes; 
To  rear,  feed,  hunt,  and  discipline  the  pack.  * 

Hail,  happy  Britain  I  highly  favour'd  isle. 
And  Heaven's  peculiar  care  !  To  thee  'tis  given 
To  train  the  sprightly  steed,  more  fleet  than  those 
Begot  by  winds,  or  the  celestial  breed 
That  bore  the  great  Pelides  through  the  press 
Of  heroes  arm'd,  and  broke  their  crowded  ranks  ; 
Which,  proudly  neiehing,  with  the  Sun  b^ns 
Cheerful  his  course  ?  and  ere  his  beams  declin'>, 
Has  measur'd  half  thy  suHace  unfiitigu'd. 
In  thee  alone,  fair  land  of  liberty  ! 
Is  bred  the  perfect  hound,  in  scent  and  speed 
As  yet  uiirivaird,  while  in  other  climes 
Their  virtue  fails,  a  weak  degenerate  Vace. 
In  vain  mali^n^Ant  steams  and  winter  fbgs 
Load  the  dull  air,  and  hover  round  our  coasts, 

1  Oen.  chap.  ix.  ver.  3. 


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156 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


The  huDtsman  ever  gay,  robust,  and  bold. 

Defies  the  noxious  vapour,  and  confides 

In  Uiis  delightful  exercise,  to  rajse 

Uis  drooping  herd,  and  cheer  his  heart  with  joy. 

Ye  vigorous  youths,  by  smiling  Fortune  blest 
\nth  large  demesnes,  hereditary  wealth, 
Heap'd  copious  by  your  wise  fore -fathers*  care, , 
Hear  and  attend  !  while  I  the  means  reveal 
T'  enjoy  those  pleasures,  for  the  weak  too  strong. 
Too  coj>tly  for  the  poor :  To  rein  the  steed 
Swill-stretching  o'er  the  plain,  to  chcar  the  pack 
Opening  in  consorts  of  harmonious  joy. 
But  breathing  death.  What  though  the  gripe  severe 
Of  brazen-fisted  Time,«nd  slow  disease 
Creeping  through  every  vein,  and  nerve  unstrung, 
Afflict  uiy  shatter'd  frame,  undaunted  still, 
Fix'd  as  a  mountain  ash,  that  braves  the  bolt* 
Of  angry  Jove ;  though  blasted,  yet  unfallen  j 
Still  cau  my  soul  in  Fancy's  minourview 
Deeds  glorious  once,  recal  the  joyous  scene 
In  all  its  splendours  deck'd,  o'er  the  full  bovl 
Recount  my  triumphs  past,  urge  others  on 
With  hand  and  voice,  and  point  the  winding  w^y : 
PleasM  with  thwt  social  sweet  garrulity. 
The  poor  disbanded  veteran's  sole  delight. 

First  let  the  kennel  be  the  huntsman's  care, 
Ul)on  some  little  eminence  erect. 
And  fronting  to  the  ruddy  dawn  ^  its  courts 
On  either  hand  wide  opening  to  receive 
The  Sun's  all-cheanng  beams,  wheu  mild  he  shines. 
And  gilds  the  mountain  tops.     For  much  the  pack 
(Rous'd  from  their  dark  alcoves)  delight  to  stretch 
And  bask  in  his  invigorating  ray : 
Wam'd  by  the  streammg  Ught  and  merry  lark. 
Forth  rush  the  jolly  clan ;  with  tuneful  throats 
They  carol  loud,  and  in  grand  chorus  join'd 
Salute  the  new-bom  day.     For  not  alone 
The  vegetable  world,  but  men  and  brutes 
Own  his  reviving  influence,  and  joy 
At  his  approach.     Fountain  of  light !  if  chance 
Some  envious  cloud  veil  thy  refulgent  bnw. 
In  vain  the  Muses  aid ;  untouched,  imstrung. 
Lies  my  muCe  harp,  and  thy  desponding  hard 
Sit^  darkly  uuising  oVrth'  unfinished  lay. 

Let  no  Corinthian  pillars  prop  the  dome, 
A  vain  expense,  on  charitable  deeds 
Better  dispos'd,  to  clothe  the  tattejr'd  wretch. 
Who  shrinks  beneath  the  blast,  to  feed  the  poor, 
Pinch 'd  with  afflictive  want.   For  use,  not  state, 
<Tit»cefully  plain,  let  each  apartment  rise. 
O'er  all  let  cleanliness  preside,  no  scraps 
Bestrew  tlie  pavement,  and  no  half-pick'd  bones 
To  kindle  fierce  debate,  or  to  disgust 
That  nicer  sense,  on  which  the  sportsman's  hope, 
And  all  his  future  triumphs,  must  depend. 
Soon  as  the  growling  pack  with  eager  joy 
Have  lapp'd  th^r  smoking  viands,  mom  or  eve. 
From  the  full  cistern  lead  the  ductile  streams. 
To  wash  thy  court  well  pav'd,  nor  spare  thy  pains. 
For  much  to  heakh  will  cleanliness  avail. 
Seek'st  thou  for  hounds  to  cJimb  the  rocky  steep. 
And  brosh  th*  entai^led  covert,  whose  nice  scent 
O'er  greasy  fallows  and  frequented  roads 
Can  pick  the  dubious  way  ?  Banish  far  off 
Each  noisome  stench,  let  no  o^nsive  smell 
Invade  thy  wide  enclosure,  but  admit 
The  nitrous  air  and  purifying  breeze. 

Water  and  shade  no  less  demand  thy  care  : 
In  a  large  square  tb*  adjacent  field  enclose. 


There  plant  in  equal  ranks  the  spieadnig  elni^ 
Or  fragrant  lime ;  most  happy  thy  d^ign^ 
If  at  the  bottom  of  thy  spacious  court, 
A  large  canal,  fed  by  the  crystal  brook. 
From  its  transparent  bosom  shall  reflect 
Downward  thy  structure  and  inverted  grove. 
Here  when  the  Sun's  too  potent  gleams  annoy 
The  crowded  kennel,  and  the  drooping  pack. 
Restless,  and  fiunt,  loll  their  luunoisten'd  tongoe% 
And  drop  their  feeble  tails,  to  cooler  shades 
Lead  forth  the  panting  tribe  ;  soon  shalt  thon  find 
The  cordial  breeze  their  fainting  hearts  revive : 
Tumultuous  soon  the^  plunge  into  the  stream. 
There  lave  their  reeking  sides,  with  greedy  joy 
Gulp  down  the  flying  wave,  this  way  and  that 
From  shore  to  shore  they  swim,  Vhile  clamour  knd 
And  wild  uproar  torments  the  troubled  flood: 
Then  on  the  sumiy  bank  they  roll  and  stretch 
Their  dripping  limbs,  or  else  in  wanton  rings 
Coursing  around,  pursumg  and  pursued. 
The  merry  multitude  disporting  play. 

But  here  with  watchful  and  observant  eye. 
Attend  their  frolics,  which  too  often  end 
In  bloody  broils  and  death.     High  o'er  thy  head 
Wave  thy  resounding  whip,  and  with  a  voice 
Fierce-menacing  o'er-rule  the  stem  debate. 
And  quench  their  kindling  rage ;  for  oft  in  sport 
Begun,  combat  ensues,  growling  they  snarl, 
Tlien  on  their  haunches  rear'd,  rampant  they  seize 
Each  other's  throat«»  with  teeth  and  claws  in  gore 
Besmear'd,  they  wound,  they  tear,  till  on  the  ground, 
Panting,  half  dead  the  cooquer'd  champion  lies: 
Then  sudden  all  the  baso^  ignoble  crowd 
lioud-clamouring  seize  the  helpless  worried  wretcbf 
And,  thiniting  for  his  blood,  drag  different  ways 
His  mangled  carcass  on  th'  eosax^uin'd  plain. 
O  breasts  of  pity  void  !  t'  oppress  the  weak. 
To  point  your  vengence  at  the  friendless  Head, 
And  with  one  mutual  pry  insult  the  fall'n  \ 
Emblem  too  just  of  man's  degeuerate  race. 

Others  apart,  by  native  instinct  led. 
Knowing  instmctor  !  'mong  the  ranker  grass 
Cull  each  salubrious  plant,  with  bitter  juice 
ConoocCive  stor'd,  and  potent  to  allay 
F^ach  vicious  ferment.    Thus  the  band  divine 
Of  Providence,  beneficent  and  kind 
To  all  his  creatures,  for  the  brutes  prescribes 
A  ready  remedy,  and  is  himself 
Their  great  physician.    Now  grown  stiff  with  age, 
And  many  a  painlul  chase,  the  ^se  old  hound. 
Regardless  of  the  frolic  pack,  attends 
His  master's  side,  or  slumbers  at  bis  ease 
Beneath  the  l>ending  shade ;  there  many  a  ring 
Runs  o'er  in  dreams ;  now  on  the  doubthil  foil 
Puzzles  perplex'd,  or  doubles  intricate 
"Cautious  unfolds,  then,  wing'd  with  all  his  speed. 
Bounds  o'er  the  lawn  to  seize,  his  panting  prey. 
And  in  imperfect  whimperings  speaks  his  joy. 

A  difierent  hound  for  every  diiSarent  chase 
Select  with  judgment;  nor  the  timorous  hare 
O'ermatch'd  d^troy,  but  leave  that  vile  ofoioe 
To  the  mean,  murderous,  coursing  crew  ;  inteoC 
On  blood  and  ipoil.  O  blast  then:  hopes  just  Heaven! 
And  all  their  painful  drudgeries  repay 
With  disappomtment  and  severe  remorse. 
But  husband  thou  thy  pleasures,  and  give  scope 
To  all  her  subtle  play:  by  Nature  led 
A  thousand  shifts  she  tries ;  t'  imravel  these 
Th'  industrious  beagle  twisb  his  wavii^  tail. 


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THE  CHASE. 


157 


nroai^  aW  ber  labyrinthg  pannes,  and  rings 
Her  dutefol  knell.  See  ther^  with  cooYitenance  blithe, 
And  with  a  courtly  grin,  the  fawning  hound 
Salutes  tiiee  cowering,  his  wide  opening  nose 
Upward  he  carls,  and  his  large  sloe-black  eyes 
Melt  in  soft  blandishments,  and  humble  joy ; 
His  gloesy  skin,  or  yellow-pied,  or  blue, 
In  lights  or  shades  by  Nature*s  pencil  drawn. 
Reflects  the  various  tints ;  his  ears  and  legs 
Fleckt  here  and  there,  in  gay  enamelled  pride, 
TUval  the  speckled  pard ;  his  rush  grown-tail 
O'er  his  btoad  4iack  bends  in  an  ample  arch ; 


On  shoulders  clean,  upright  and  firm  he  stands; 
thighs, 


HU  found  cat  foot,  strait  iSma,  and  wide-spread 


And  his  low -dropping  chest,  confess  his  speed, 
ICs  strength,  his  wind,  or  on  the  steepy  hdl. 
Or  far-extended  plain ;  hi  every  part 
So  well  proportioned,  that  the  nicer  skill 
Of  Phidias  himself  can*t  blame  thy  choice. 
Of  such  compose  thy  pack.     But  here  a  mean 
Observe,  nor  the  large  hound  prefer,  of  size 
Gigantic ;  he  in  the  thick-woven  covert 
Painfully  tags,  or  in  the  thorny  brake 
Tom  and  eml^rrass'd  bleeds ;  But  if  too  small. 
The  pigmy  brood  in  every  furrow  swims ; 
Moird  in  the  clogging  clay,  panting  they  lag 
Behind  inglorious ;  or  else  dirvering  creep 
BenumbM  and  faint  beneath  the  sheltering  thorn. 
For  hounds  of  middle  size,  active  and  strong. 
Will  better  aniwer  all  thy  varkms  ends. 
And  crown  thy  pleasing  labours  with  success. 
As  some  brave  captain,  curious  and  exact. 
By  his  fix*d  standard  forms  in  equal  ranks 
ffis  gay  battalion,  as  one  man  they  moffc 
Step  after  step,  their  size  the  same,  their  arms 
Far-gleaming,  dart  the  same  united  blaze : 
Reviewing  generals  his  merit  own ;  " 

How  regular !  how  just !     And  all  his  cares 
Are  weH  repaid,  if  mighty  George  approve. 
Soinodel  thou  thy  pack,  if  honour  touch 
Thy  generous  soal,  and  the  woHd's  just  applause. 
But  above  all  take  heed,  nor  mix  thy  hounds 
Of  different  kinds;  diicordant  sounds  shall  grate 
Thy  ears  offended,  and  a  lagging  line 
Of  babbling  curs  disgrace  thy  broken  pack. 
But  if  the  amphibious  otter  be  thy  chase, 
Or  stately  stag,  that  o^er  the  woodland  reigns ; 
Or  if  the  harmonioas  thunder  of  the  field 
Delight  thy  ravished  ears;  the  deep-flew 'd  hound 
Jketd  up  with  care,  strong,  heavy,  slow,  but  sure ; 
Whose  ears  down-hanging  firnn  his  thick  round  head 
Shall  sweep  the  morning  dew,  whose  clanging  voice 
Awake  the  roontitaia  Echo  in  her  cell. 
And  shake  the  forests :  The  bold  Talbot  kind 
Of  these  the  prime ;  at  white  as  Alpine  snows ; 
And  great  their  nse  of  old.     Upon  the  banks 
Of  Tweed,  slow  winding  throuflth  the  vale,  the  seat. 
Of  war  and  rapine  once,  ere  Britons  knew 
The  sweets  of  peace,  or  Anna's  dread  commands 
To  lasting  leagues  ihe  haughty  rivals  aw»d. 
There  dwelt  a  piffering  race ;  well  train'd  and  skillM 
In  all  the  my^eriei  of  theft,  the  spoil 
Their  only  substance,  feuds  and  war  their  sport : 
Not  more  expert  ra  every  fraudful  art 
The  arch  felon  *  was  of  old,  who  by  the  tail 
l^rew  back  his  lowing  prize:  in  vain  his  wiles, 

*  Cacns,  Virg.  Ma,  Kb.  vifi. 


In  vain  the  shelter  of  the  covering  rock. 
In  vain  the  sooty  clf>ud,  and  ruddy  flames 
That  issued  from  his  mouth  ;  for  soon  he  paid 
His  forfeit  life  :  a  debt  how  justly  due 
To  wrong'd  Alcides,  and  avenjfiiig  Heaven  ! 
Veil'd  in  the  shades  of  night  ther  for^  the  stream, 
TTien  prowling  far  and  near,  whatever  they  seize 
Becomes  their  prey :  nor  flocks  nor  herds  are  safe. 
Nor  stalls  protect  the  steer,  nor  strong -bai^'d  doori 
Secure  the  favourite  horse.     Soon  as  the  mom 
Reveals  his  wrongs,  with  ghastly  visage  wan 
The  plundered  owner  stands,,  and  from  his  lips 
A  thousand  thronging  curses  burst  their  way ; 
He  calls  his  stout  allies,  and  in  a  line 
His'^thful  hound  he  leads,  then  with  a  voice 
That  utters  loud  his  rage,  attentive  cheers  : 
Soon  the  sagacous  brute,  his  curling  tail 
Flourish 'd  in  air,  low  bending  plies  around 
His  busy  nose,  the  steaminir  vapour  snufls 
Inquisitive,  nor  leaves  one  turf  untried, 
Till,  conscious  of  the  recent  stains,  his  heart 
Beats  quick ;  his  snuflling  nose,  his  active  tail. 
Attest  his  joy ;  then  with  deep  opening  m<5uth. 
That  makes  the  welkin  tremble,  he  proclaims 
Th*  audacious  felon ;  foot  by  foot  he  marks 
His  winding  way,  while  all  the  listening  crowd 
Applaud  his  reasonings.     O'er  the  watery  ford. 
Dry  sandy  heaths,  and  stony  barren  hdls, 
0*er  beaten  paths,  with  men  and  beasts  distain'd^ 
Unerring  he  pursues ;  till  at  the  cot 
Arriv'd,  and  seizing  by  his  guilty  throat 
The  ckitifvile,  redeems  the  captive  prey; 
So  exquisitely  delicate  his  sense ! 

Shoidd  some  more  curious  sportsman  here  inquiiw 
Whence  this  sagacity,  this  wondrous  power 
Of  tracing  step  by  step,  or  man  or  brute  ? 
What  guide  invisible  points  out  their  way. 
O'er  tlie  dank  marsh,  bleak  hill,  and  sandy  plain  } 
Tlie  courteous  Muse  shall  the  dark  cause  reveal. 
The  blood  that  from  the  heart  incessant  rolls 
In  many  a  crimson  tide,  then  here  and  there 
In  smaller  rills  diq>arted,  as  it  flows 
Propeird,  the  serous  particles  ^ade 
Through  th*  open  pores,  and  with  the  ambient  air 
Entangling  mix.     As  fuming  vapours  rise. 
And  hang  upon  the  gently  purling  brook. 
There  by  th*  incumbent  atmosphere  compressed : 
The  panting  Chase  gn>ws  warmer  as  he  flies. 
And  through  the  net-work  of  the  skin  perspires; 
Leaves  a  long-streaming  trail  behind,  which  by 
The  cooler  air  condens'd,  remains,  unless 
By  some  rude  storm  dispers'd,  or  rarificd 
By  the  meredian  Sun's  intenser  heat. 
To  every  shrub  the  warm  efliluvia  cling. 
Hang  on  the  grass,  impregnate  earth  and  skies. 
With  n^jstrils  opening  wide,  o'er  hill,  o'er  dale 
The  vigorous  hounds  pursue,  with  every  breath 
Inhale  the  grateful  steam,  quick  pleasures  sting 
Their  tingling  nerx'cs,  while  they  their  tlianks  repay. 
And  in  triumphant  meUxly  confess 
The  titillating  joy.     Thus  on  the  air 
Depend  the  hunter's  hopes.     When  ruddy  streaks  < 
At  eve  forebo<le  a  blustering  stormy  day. 
Or  lowering  clouds  blacken  the  mountain's  brow. 
When  nipping  frosts,  and  the  keen  bitmg  blasts 
Of  the  dfy  parching  east,  menace  the  trees 
With  tender  blossoms  teeming,  kindly  spare 
Thy  sifceping  pack,  in  their  warm  beds  of  straw 
Low-sinking  at  their  ease;  lidtlcis  they  shrink 


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15S 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


Into  some  dark  recess,  nor  bear  thy  voice 
Though  oft  invoked ;  or  haply  if  thy  call 
Ttouse  up  the  slumbering  tribe,  with  heavy  eyes 
GlazM,  lifetess,  dull,  downward  they  drop  thei^  tails 
Inverted ;  high  on  their  bent  backs  erect 
Their  pointed  bristles  stare,  or  'mong  the  tufts 
Of  ranker  weeds,  each  stomach  healing  plant 
Curious  they  crop,  sick,  spiritless,  forlorn. 
These  inauspicious  days,  on  other  cares 
Employ  thy  precious  hours ;  th*  improving  friend 
With  open  arms  embrace,  and  from  his  lips 
Olean  science,  season'd  with  good  natur*d  wit.  , 
But  if  the  inclement  skies  and  angry  Jove 
Forbid  the  pleasing  intercourse,  thy  book^ 
Invite  thy,  reatly  hand,  each  sacred  page 
Rich  with  the  wise  remarks  of  heroes  old. 
Converse  familiar  with  th*  illXistrious  dead ; 
W'itli  great  examples  of  old  Greece  or  Rome, 
Enlarge  thy  free-tx)m  heart,  and  bless  kind  Heaven, 
That  Britain  yet  enjoys  dear  Liberty, 
That  balm  of  life,  that  sweetest  blessing,  cheap 
Though  pnrchas'd  with  our  blood.  Well-bred,  polite, 
Credit  thy  calling.     See  !  how  mean,  how  low, 
The  bookless  sauntering  youth,  proud  of  the  skut 
That  dignifies  his  cap,  his  flourish'd  belt, 
And  rusty  couples  gingling  by  his  side. 
Be  thou  of  f'ther  mould ;  and  know  that  such 
Transp  rting  pleasures  were  by  Heaven  ordained 
Wisdom's  relief,  and  Virtue's  great  reward. 


BOOK  II. 

THE   AROUM£Nt/ 

Of  the  power  of  instinct  in  brutes .  Two  remarkable 
histances  in  the  hunting  of  the  roebuck,  and  in  the 
hare  g«>ing  to  seat  in  the  morning.  Of  the  variety 
of  seats  or  forms  of  the  bare,  according  to  the 
change  of  the  season,  weather,  or  wind.  Description 
of  the  hare-hunting  in  all  its  parts,  interspersed 
with  rules  to  be  observed  by  those  who  follow  that 
chase.  Transition  to  the  Asiatic  way  of  hunting, 
particularly  the  magnificent  manner  of  the  Great 
Mogul,  and  other  Tartarian  princes,  taken  from 
Monsieur  Bemier,  and  the  history  of  Gengiscan 
the  Great.  Concludes  with  a  short  reproof  of 
tyrants  and  oppressors  of  mankind. 

Kor  will  it  less  delight  th*  attentive  sag^ 
T'  observe  that  Instinct,  which  unerring  guides 
The  brutal  race,  which  mimics  reason's  lore, 
And  oft  transcends :  Heaven-taught,  the  roe-buck 
Loiters  at  ease  before  the  driving  pack  [swift 

And  mocks  their  vain  pursuit;  nor  far  he  flies. 
But  checks  his  ardour,  till  the  steaming  scent 
That  freshens  on  the  blade  provokes  their  rage. 
UrgM  to  their  speed,  his  weak  deluded  foes 
5>oon  flag  fatigued ;  strain^  to  excess  each  nerve. 
Each  slacken'd  sinew  fails  ;  they  pant,  they  foam; 
Then  o'er  the  lawn  he  bounds,  o'er  the  high  hills 
Stretches  secure,  and  leaves  the  scatter'd  crowd 
To  puzzle  in  the  distant  vale  below, 

'Tis  Instinct  that  directs  the  jealous  hare 
To  chuse  her  soft  abode.    With  step  reversed 
She  forms  the  doubling  maze ;  then,  ere  tlie  mom 
Peeps  through  the  clouds,  leaps  to  her  close  recess. 

As  wandering  shepherds  on  th'  Arabian  plains  y^ 
No  settled  residence  observe,  but  shift 
Their  moving  camp,  now,  on  some  cooler  hiU 
With  cedars  crown'd,  court  the  refreshing  breeze^ 


And  then,  belour,  where  trickKng  itreams  didil 
From  some  penurious  source,  their  thirst  allay. 
And  feed  their  Minting  flocks :  so  the  wise  hmres 
Oft  quit  their  seats,  lest  some  more  curious  eye 
Should  mark  their  haunts,  and  by  dark  trea^jerooA 

wiles 
Plot  their  destruction ;  or  perchance  in  hopos 
Of  plenteous  forage,  near  the  ranker  mead. 
Or  matted  blade,  wary  and  close  they  siL 
When  spring  shines  forth,  season  of  love  and  joy. 
In  the  moist  marsh,  'mong  beds  of  rushes  hid. 
They  cool  their  boiling  blood.   When  summer  suns 
Bake  the  cleft  earth,  to  thick  wide-waving  fields 
Of  com  full-grown,  tifty  l^ad  their  helpless  youo^  : 
But  when  autunmal  torrents  and  fierce  rains 
Deluge  the  vale,  in  the  dry  crambling  bank 
Their  forms  they  deWe,  and  cautiously  avoid 
The  dripping  covert :  yet  when  winter's  coW 
Their  limbs  benumbs,  thither  with  speed  retoni'd 
In  the  long  grass  they  skulk,  or  shrinking  creep 
Among  tlie  wither'd  leaves,  thus  changing  still. 
As  fancy  prompts  them,  or  as  food  invites.    > 
But  every  season  carefully  observed, 
Th'  inconstant  winds,  th'  fickle  element. 
The  ^ise  experienc'd  huntsman  soon  may  find 
His  subtle,  various  game,  nor  waste  in  vain 
His  tedious  hours,  till  his  impatient  hounds, 
With  disappointment  vex'd,  each  springing  laik 
Babbling  pursue,  far  scatter'd  o'er  the  fields. 

Now  gulden  Autumn  firom  her  open  lap  ,    ' 

Her  fragrant  bounties  showers ;  the  fields  afe  shorn  ; 
Inwardly  smiling,  the  proud  f^armer  views 
The  rising  pyramids  tliat  grace  his  yard. 
And  counts  his  large  increase;  his  bams  arestor'd 
And  groanmg  staddles  bend  beneath  their  load. 
All  now  is  firee  as  air,  and  the  gay  pick 
In  the  rough  bristly  stubbles  range  unblam'd  ; 
No  widow's  tears  o'erflow,  no  secret  curse 
Swells  in  the  farmer's  breast,  which  his  pale  Ups      * 
Trembling  conceal,  by  his  fierce  landlord  aw'd; 
But  courteous  now  he  levels  every  fence. 
Joins  in  tlie  common  cry,  and  halloos  loud, 
Charmed  with  the  rattling  thunder  of  the  field. 
Oh  bear  nie,  some  kind  power  invisible ! 
To  that  extended  lawn,  where  the  gay  court 
View  the  swift  racers,  stretching  to  the  goal ; 
Games  more  renown'd,  and  a  ^r  nobler  train. 
Than  proud  Elean  fields  could  boast  of  old. 
Oh  !  were  a  Theban  lyre  not  wanting  here,    * 
And  Pindar's  voice,  to  do  their  merit  right ! 
Or  to  those  spacious  plains,  where  the  strain'deye 
In  the  wide  prospect  lost,  beholds  at  last 
Sarum's  proud  spire,  that  o'er  the  hills  ascends. 
And  pierces  through  the  clouds.     Or  to  thy  downs. 
Fair  Ootswold,  where  the  well  breath'd  beagle  climbs 
With  matchless  speed,  thy  green  aspirmg  brow^ 
And  leaves  the  lagging  multitude  behind.  v^ 

Hail,  gentle  Dawn  I  mild  blushing  goddess,  bail !  xl 
Rejoic'd  I  see  thy  purple  mantle  spread  ) 

O'er  half  the  skies,  gems  pave  thy  radiant  way. 
And  orient  pearls  from  every  shnib  depend. 
Farewell,  Cleora;  here  deep  sunk  in  down 
Slumber  secure,  with  happy  dreams  amus'd. 
Till  grateful  steams  shall  tempt  thee  to  receive 
Thy  early  meal,  or  thy  oflicious  maids. 
The  toilet  placM,  shall  urge  thee  to  perform 
Th'  important  work.     Me  other  joys  invite. 
The  bora  sonorious  calls,  the  pack  awak'd 
Their  mattins  chaunt,  nor  brook  my  long  delay. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  CHASE. 


159 


My  courser  bean  tbeir  voice ;  see  there,  with  ears 
And  tail  erect,  Deishing  he  paws  the  ground; 
Fierce  rapture  kindles  in  his  .reddening  eyes. 
And  boils  in  every  veio.     As  captive  boys 
Co«*d  by  the  ruling  rod  and  haughty  frowns 
Of  pedagogues  severe,  from  their  hard  tasks 
If  ODce  dismissed,  no  Umits  can  contain 
The  tumult  rais'd  within  their  little  breasts. 
But  give  a  loose  to  all  their  frolic  play : 
So  fix>in  their  kennel  rush  the  joyous  pack  ; 
A  thousand  wanton  gaieties  express 
Thar  inward  extasy,  their  pleasing  q>ort 
Once  more  indulged,  and  liberty  restored. 
The  rising  Sun,  that  o*er  th'  horizon  peeps. 
As  many  colours  from  their  glossy  skins 
Beaming  reflects,  as  paint  the  various  bow 
When  April  showers  descend.     Delightful  scene ! 
Where  all  around  is  gay,  men,  horses,  dogs. 
And  in  each  smiling  countenance  appears 
Fresh  blooming  health,  and  universal  joy. 

Huntsman  lead  on !  behind  the  clustering  pack 
Submiss  attend,  hear  with  respect  thy  whip 
Loud-clanging,  and  thy  harsher  voice  obey : 
Spare  not  the  straggling  cur  tliat  wildly  roves; 
But  let  thy  brisk  assistant  on  hi>  back 
Imprint  thy  just  reseutments;  let  each  lash 
Bite  to  the  qwck,  till  howling  he  return, 
And  whining  creep  amid  the  treiribling  crowd. 

Here  on  this  verdant  spot,  where  Nature  kind 
With  double  blesssings  crowns  the  fanner's  hopes ; 
Where  flowers  autumnal  spring,  and  the  rank  mead 
Affords  the  wandering  hares  a  rich  repast ; 
Throw  ofi"  thy  ready  pack.  See,  where  they  spread. 
And  range  around,  and  dash  the  glittering  dew. 
If  some  staunch  hound,  with  his  authentic  voice. 
Avow  the  recent  trail,  the  justling  tribe 
Attend  his  call,  then  with  one  mutual  cry, 
Thewelcome  news  confirm,  and  echoing  hills 
Beppat  the  pleasing  tale.     See  how  they  thiead 
The  brakes,  and  up  yon  furrow  drive  along  ! 
But  quick  they  back  recoil,  and  wisely  check 
Their  eager  baste ;  then  o'er  the  fellow 'd  ground 
How  leisurely  they  work,  and  many  a  pause 
TTi'  harmonious  concert  breaks;  till  more  assured 
With  joy  redoubled  the  low  vallies  ring* 
What  artful  labyrinths  perplex  their  way ! 
Ah!  there  she  lie*;  how  close:  she  pants,  she  doubts 
If  now  she  lives;  she  trembles  as  she  sits,  > 
With  horrour  seiz'd.    Tlie  wither'd  grass  that  clings 
Around  her  head,  of  the  same  russet  hue 
Almost  deceived  my  sig'it,  had  not  her  eyes 
With  life  full-beaming  her  vain  wjles  betray *d. 
At  distance  draw  thy  pack,  let  all  be  hush'd. 
No  clamour  loud,  no  frantic  joy  be  heard. 
Lest  the  wild  hound  run  gadding  o'er  the  plain 
l^ntractable,  nor  hear  thy  chiding  voice. 
Now  gently  put  her  off;  see  how  direct 
To  her  known  mew  she  fli»ts  !  Here,  huntsman,  bring 
(But  without  hurry)  all  thy  jolly  hounds, 
And  calmly  lay  them  in.     How  low  they  stoop. 
And  seem  to  pluugli  the  ground  !  then  all  at  once 
With  greedy  nostrils  suutf  the  fuming  steam 
That  glads  their  fluttering  hearts.  As  wind^  let  loose 
Prom  the  dark  caverns  of  the  blustering  cod, 
They  burst  away,  and  sweep  the  dewy  lawn. 
Hope  gives  them  wings  while  she's  spurr'd  on  by  fear. 
The  welkin  rings,  men,  dogs,  hills,  r»>cks,  and  woods. 
In  the  full  concert  join.     Now,  my  brave  youths, 
^pp'd  for  tl^e  chase,  give  all  your  souls  to  joy ! 


See  how  their  coursers,  than  the  mountain  roe 
More  fleet,  the  verdant  carpet  skim,  thick  clouds 
Snorting  they  breathe,  their  shining  hoofs  scarce  print 
The  grass  unbruis'd ;  with  emulation  firM 
They  strain  to  lead  the  field,  top  the  barr*d  gate, 
0*er  the  deap  ditch  exulting  bound,  and  brush 
The  thorny-twining  hedge  :   the  riders  bend 
O'er  their  arch'd  necks ;  with  steady  hands,  by  turns 
Indulge  their  speed,  or  moderate  their  rage. 
Where  are  their  sorrows,  disappointments,  wrongs. 
Vexations,  sickness,  cares  ?  All,  all  are  gone. 
And  ,with  the  panting  winds  lag  far  behind. 

Huntsman !  her  gait  observe ;  if  in  wide  rings 
She  wheel  her  mazy  way,  in  the  same  round 
Persisting  still,  she  'H  foil  the  beaten  track. 
But  if  she  fly,  and  with  the  fevouring  wind 
Urge  her  bold  course ;  less  intricate  thy  task  : 
Push  on  thy  pack.     Like  some  poor  exil'd  wretch. 
The  frighted  Chase  ]ezves  her  late  dear  abodes. 
O'er  plains  remote  she  stretches  far  away. 
Ah  !  never  to  return  !  For  greedy  Death 
Hovering  exults,  secure  to  seize  his  prey. 

Hark !  from  yon  covert,  where  those  towering  oakA , 
Above  the  humble  copse  aspiring  rise, 
What  glorious  triumphs  burst  in  every  gale 
Upon  our  ravish'd  ears !  The  hunters  shout, 
The  clanging  horns  swell  their  sweet-winding  notes. 
The  pack  wide  opening  load  the  trembling  air 
With  various  melody ;  from  tree  to  tree 
The  propagated  cry  redoubling  bounds. 
And  winged  zephyrs  waft  the  floating  joy 
Througli  all  the  regions  near :  afflictive  birch 
No  more  the  school-boy  dn^ads,  his  prison  broke. 
Scampering  he  flies,  nor  heeds  his  master's  call ; 
The  weary  traveller  forgets  his  road, 
And  climbs  th'  adjaceiit  hill ;  the  ploughman  leaves 
Th'  unfinished  furrow ;  nor  his  bleating  flocks 
Are  now  the  shepherd's  joy  !  men,  boy<,  aad  girls. 
Desert  th'  unpeopled  village;  and  wild  crowds* 
Spread  o*er  the  plain,  by  the  sweet  frenzy  seiz'd. 
Lix>k,  how  she  pants  !  and  o'er  yon  opening  glade 
Slips  glancing  by  !  while,  at  the  further  end. 
The  puzzling  pack  unravel  wile  by  wile, 
Maze  within  maze.     The  covert's  utmost  bound      x 
Slily  she  skirts ;  behind  them  cautious  creeps 
Anil  in  that  very  track,  so  lately  stain'd 
By  all  the  steamhig  crowd,  seems  to  pursue* 
Tlie  foe  she  flies.     liCt  cavillci's  deny 
Tliat  brut<'s  have  n  ason ;  sure  'tis  something  more, 
'Tis  Ht  aven  directs,  and  stratagems  in'^pires 
Bi  yonfi  the  short  extent  of  human  thought. 
But  hold — 1  see  her  from  the  covert  bi  eak  ; 
Sdd  on  yon  I'ttle  eminence  she  sits ; 
Intent  she  lis,  ens  Mith  one  ear  erect. 
Pondering,  and  doubtful  what  new  course  to  take. 
And  how  t  escape  the  fierce  blood-thirsty  crew. 
That  still  urge  on,  and  still  in  vollies  loud 
Insult  her  woes,  ami  mock  her  sore  distress. 
As  now  in  louder  peals  the  h>aded  winds 
Bring  on  the  gathering  storm,  her  fears  prevail. 
And  o'er  the  plain,  and  o'er  the  mountain's  ridge. 
Away  she  flies  ;  nor  ships  with  wind  and  tide. 
And  all  their  cauvass  wings,  scud  half  so  fast. 
Once  more,  ye  jovial  train,  your  courage  try. 
And  each  cUan  cotireei's  speed.     We  scour  along^ 
In  pleasing  hnrry  and  conifusion  tost; 
Oblivion  U>  be  wish'd.     The  patient  pack 
Hang  on  the  scent  unweary'd,  up  they  climbs, 
And  ardent  we  pursue;  our  labouring  steeds 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


1(50 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


We  press,  we  grore;  till  once  the  summit  gainM, 
Painfully  panting ;  there  we  breathe  a  while  j 
Then,  like  a  foaming  torrent,  jjouring  down 
Precipitant,  we  smoke  along  the  vale. 
Happy  the  man  who  with  unrivall'd  speed 
Can  pass  his  fellows,  and  ^ith  pleasure  view 
The  5tnijrcling  pack ;  how  in  the  rapid  course 
Alternate  they  preside,  and  jostling  push 
To  guide  the  dubious  scent  j  how  giddy  youth 
Oft  babbling  errs,  by  wiser  age  reprov'd; 
How,  niggard  of  bis  strength,  the  wise  old  hound 
Hangs  in  the  rear,  till  some  important  point 
Rouse  all  his  diligence,  or  till  the  chase 
Sinking  he  finds :  then  to  the  head  he  springs 
With  thirst  of  glory  fir'd,  and  wins  the  prize. 
Hunbsman,  take  1  eed  ;  they  stop  in  fuU  career. 
Yon  crowding  flocks,  that  at  a  distance  gaze, 
Have  haply  foil'd  ^the  turf.     See !  that  old  hound. 
How  busily  he  works,  but  dares  not  trust 
His  doubtftil  sen-je;  draw  yet  a  wider  ring. 
Hark  !  now  again  the  chorus  fills.     As  bells 
Sally  d  a  while,  at  once  their  peal  renew, 
And  high  in  air  the  tuneful  thunder  rolls. 
See,  how  they  toss,  with  animated  rage 
Recovering  all  they  iost ! — That  eager  haste 

.  Some  doubling  wile  foreshows. — Ah  !  yet  once  more 
Tl^ey're  check'd, — hold  back  with  speed — on  eitlier 

hand 
TTiey  flourish  round — ev'n  yet  persi*,t^-Tis  right. 
Away  they  spring;  the  rustling  stubbles  bend 
Beneath  the  driving  storm.     Now  the  poor  Chase 
Begins  U)  flag,  to  her  last  shifts  reduc'd. 
From  brake  to  brake  she  flics,  and  visits  all 
Her  well-known  haunts,w  here  once  she  rang'd  secure. 
With  love  and  plenty  blest    >>ee  !  there  she  goes, 

,  She  reels  along,  and  by  her  gait  betrays 
Her  inward  weakness.     See,  how  black  she  l^ks ! 
The  sweat,that  clogs  th'obstructed  pores,scarce  leaves 
A  languid  scent.     And  now  in  open  view 
See,  see,  she  flies  !'each  eager  hound  exerts 
His  utmost  speed,  and  stretches  every  nerve. 
How  quick  she  turns  !  their  gaping  jaws  eludes. 
And  yet  a  mement  lives ;  till,  round  enclos'd 
By  atl  the  greedy  pack,  with  infant  screams 
She  yields  her  breath,  and  there  reluctant  dies. 
So  when  the  furious  Bacchanals  assail'd 
Threiciau  Orpheus,  poor  ill-fated  bard  ! 

-  Loud  was  the  cry ;  hills,  woods,  and  Hebnis^  banks, 
Retum'd  their  clamorous  rage ;  distress'd  he  flies, 
Shifting  from  place  to  place,  but  flies  in  vain ; 
For  eager  they  pursue,  till  panting,  faint. 
By  noisy  multitudes  o'erpower'd,  he  sinks 
To  the  relentless  crowd  a  bleeding  prey. 

The  huntsman  now,  a  deep  incision  made. 
Shakes  out  with  hands  impure,  and  dashes  down 
Her  reeking^entrails  and  yet  quivering  heart. 
These  claim  the  pack,  the  bloody  perquisite 
For  all  th*;lr  toils.     Stretch 'd  oji  the  ground  she  lies 
A  mangled  corse ;  in  her  dim  glaricg  eyes 
Cold  Oeath  exults,  and  stifteus  vm  ry  limb. 
Aw'd  by  the  threatening  whip,  the  furious  hounds 
Around  her  bay  ;  or  at  their  masti'r's  foot. 
Each  happy  favourite  courts  bis  kind  applause, 
With  humble  adulation  cowering  low. 
All  now  is  joy.       With  che^  ks  full-blown  they  wind 
Her  solemn  dir^ic,  while  the  loud-oj^ning  pack 
The  concert  swe'l,  and  hilL>  and  dales  return    . 
The  sadly-pleasing  sounds.    Tlius  the  poor  hare, 
A  puny,  dastard  animal,  but  vers'd 


In  subtle  wiles,  diverts  the  youthful  tnfii. 
But  ifthy  proud,  aspiring  soul  disdains 
So  mean  a  prey,  delighted  with  the  pomp. 
Magnificence,  and  grandeur  of  the  chase; 
Hear  what  the  Muse  from  faithfarrecords  sings. 
Why  on  the  banks  of  Gemna,  Indian  stream. 
Line  within  line,  rise  the  pavilions  p^;oud, 
Their  silken  streamers  waving  in  the  wind? 
Why  neighs  the  warrior  horse  ?  From  tent  to  tent. 
Why  press  in  crouds  the  buzzing  multitude  ? 
Why  shines  the  polish'd  helm,  and  pointed  lance, 
This  way  and  that  far  beaming  o*er  the  plain  ? 
Nor  Visapour  nor  Golconda  rebel ; 
Nor  the  great  Sophy,  with  his  numerous  host. 
Lays  waste  the  provinces ;  nor  glory  fires 
To  rob  and  to  d<\stroy,  beneath  the  name 
And  specious  guise  of  war,     A  nobler  cause 
Calls  Aurengzebe  to  arms.     No  cities  sack'd. 
No  mother's  tears,  no  helpless  orphan's  cries. 
No  violated  leagues,  with  sharp  remorse 
Shall  sting  the  conscious  victor:  but  mankirid 
Shall  hail  him  good  and  just.     For  'tis  on  beasti 
He  draws  his  vengeftil  sword  !  on  beasts  of  prey 
Full-fed  with  human  gore.     See,  see,  he  comes  ? 
Imperial  Dehli,  opening  wide  her  gates, 
Pours  out  her  thronging  legions,  bright  in  arms. 
And  all  the  pomp  of  war.     Before  them  sound 
Clarions  and  trumpets,  breathing  martial  airs. 
And  bold  defianoe.     High  upon  his  throne. 
Borne  on  the  back  of  his  proud  elephant. 
Sits  tlie  great  chief  of  Tamur's  glorious  race  \ 
SubUuie  he  sits,  amid  the  radiant  blaze 
Of  gems  sfnd  g  )ld.     Omrahs  about  hhn  crowd, 
And  rein  th*  Arabian  steed,  and  watch  his  nod: 
And  potent  rajahs,  who  themselves  preside 
O'er  realms  of  wide  extent ;  but  here  submiss 
Their  homage  pay,  alternate  kings  and  slaves. 
Next  these,  with  prying  eunuchs  girt  aiOund, 
The  fair  sultanas  of  his  court :  a  troop 
Of  chosen  beauties,  but  with  care  conceaVd 
From  each  intrusive  eye  j  one  look  is  death. 
Ah  cruel  eastern  law  !  (had  kings  a  power 
But  equal  to  their  wild  tyrannic  will) 
To  rob  us  of  the  Sun's  afl-chearing  ray. 
Were  less  severe.     The  vulgar  close  the  march, 
Slaves  and  artificers  •  and  Dehli  mourns 
Her  empty  and  dcpf)p\dated  streets. 
Now  at  the  camp  arriv'd,  with  stem  re^-iew, 
Through  groves  of  spears,  from  file  to  file  he  dartl 
His  sharp  experienced  eye  ;  their  order  marks. 
Each  in  his  station  rang'd,  exact  and  firm. 
Till  in  the  boundless  line  his  sight  is  lost. 
Not  greater  multitudes  in  ariiis  appear'd 
On  these  extended  plains,  when  Ammon's  son 
With  mighty  Poms  in  dread  battle  join'd. 
The  vassal  world  the  prize.     Nor  was  that  host 
More  numerous  of  old,  which  the  great  king  * 
Pour'd  out  on  Greece  from  all  th'  unpeopled  East, 
That  bridff'd  the  Hellespont  from  shore  to  shore. 
And  drank  the  rivers  dry.     Mean  while  in  troopi 
The  busy  hunter-train  mark  out  the  grmiud, 
A  wide  circumference,  full  many  a  league 
In  compass  round ;  woods,  rivers,  hilk,  and  plains, 
I.arge  provinces ;  enough  to  gi-atify 
Ambition's  highest  aim,  could  reason  bound 
Man's  erring  will.     Now  sit  in  close  divan'  ^ 
The  mighty  chiefs  of  tliis  prodigious  host, 

1  Xerxes, 


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THE  CHASE. 


161 


Re  fltn  til*  titftHie  high-emiDeiit  pretideg. 

Gives  oat  his  mandates  proud,  laws  of  the  chase. 

From  aodeQt  records  drawn.     With  reverence  low. 

And  prostrate  at  his  (eet,  the  chte&  receive 

His  irreversihle  decrees,  from  which 

To  vary  is  to  die.     Then  his  brave  bands 

Each  to  his  station  leads ;  encamping  round, 

Tm  the  wide  circle  is  completely  formM. 

Where  decent  order  reigns,  what  these  conmumd. 

Those  eacecute  with  speed,  and  punctual  care. 

In  all  the  strictest  discipline  of  war : 

As  if  some  watchful  foe,  whii  bold  insult. 

Hong  lowering  o'er  their  camp.    The  h^  resolve. 

That  flies  00  wings  through  ail  th'  encircfing  line, 

Each  motioo  steen,  and  animates  the  whole. 

So  by  the  Sun's  attraCtire  power  controTd, 

The  planets  in  tbetr  spheres  roll  round  his  orb : 

Od  9dl  he  shmes,  and  rules  the  great  machine^^ 

Ere  yet  the  morn  diKpds  the  leetiog  mists, 
The  figna]  given  by  the  loud  trumpet^s  voice, 
Nov  h^  in  mir  th'  imperial  standard  waves, 
EmUazon'd  rich  with  gold,  and  glittering  gems. 
And  Hke  a  sheet  of  fire,  throu^  the  dun  gloom 
Streaming  meteorouj.    The  soldiers*  shouts. 
And  all  the  brazen  instruments  of  war. 
With  mutaal  clamour,  and  united  din. 
Fill  the  large  concave.    While  from  camp  to  camp 
They  catdi  the  varied  sounds,  floating  in  air, 
Bond  all  the  wide  drcumference,  tigers  fell 
Shrink  at  the  noise,  deq>  in  his  gloomy  den 
The  lion  starts,  and  morsels  yet  unchew'd 
Drop  from  his  tremblmg  jaws.    Now  all  at  once 
Onward  the]r  march  eoibattled,  to  the  sound 
Of  martial  harmony  ;  fifes,  comets,  drums, 
TlMt  ronze  the  sleepy  soul  to  arms,  and  bdd 
Heroic  de^fls.    In  parties  here  and  there 
DetachM  o'er  hill  and  dale,  the  hunters  range 
Inquisitive ;  strong  dogs,  that  match  in  fight 
The  boldeit  brute,  around  their  masters  wait, 
A  fiuthfnl  goerd.    No  haunt  unsearch'd,  they  drive 
From  every  covert,  and  from  every  den. 
The  lurking  savages.    Incessant  shouts 
Re-echo  throu|^  the  woods,  and  kindling  fires 
Oleam  fhnn  the  mountain  tops ;  the  forest  seems 
One  minglwy  blaze  :  like  flocks  of  sheep  they  fly 
£^ire  the  flaming  brand  :  fierce  lions,  pards. 
Boats,  tigers,  bears  and  wolves  ;  a  dr^j^  crew 
Of  grim  blood-thirsty  foes  ;  growling  along. 
They  stalk  in^gnant ;  but  fierce  vengeance  still 
Hai^  pealhog  on  their  rear,  and  pointed  qpears 
Present  immeidiate  death.    Soon  as  the  Night 
Wnqit  in  her  sable  veil  forbids  the  chase. 
They  pitch  their  tents,  in  even  ranks,  around 
The  carding  camp.  The  guards  are  plac'd,  and  fires 
At  proper  distances  ascending  rise. 
And  paint  th'  horizon  with  their  ruddy  light 
So  roond  some  islands  shore  of  large  extent. 
Amid  die  floaniy  honroun  of  the  night. 
The  bOlosrs  bre^ung  on  the  pointed  rocks. 
Seem  all  one  flame,  and.the  bright  chrcuit  wide 
AppcMs  m  hirfwarit  of  iurroonding  fire. 
What  drendfnl  bowlines,  and  what  hideous  roar, 
Diiturb  those  peacefol  shades  !  where  erst  the  bird 
Tint  gkMlB  the  night  had  cheer'd  the  listening  groves 
With  sweet  comptaunii^B.  Through  the  silentgloom 
Oft  they  the  gnar^  asnil  ;*  as  oft  repell'd 
They  fly  reluctant,  with  holfboiling  rage 
Slung  to  the  qukk,  and  mad  with  wild  despair*. 
Thna  day  by  day  they  itill  the  chaie  renew, 

VOL.  XL 


At  night  encamp ;  till  now  in  streighter  bounds 
The  circle  lessens,  and  the  beasts  perceive 
The  wall  that  hems  theoi  hi  on  every  side. 
And  now  their  fury  bursts,  aivl  knows  no  mean  ; 
From  man  they  turn,  and  point  their  ill-judg*d  rage 
Against  their  fellow-brutes.    With  teeth  aud  claws 
The  civil  war  begins;  grappling  they  tear, 
lions  OQ  tigers  prey,  aud  bears  on  wolves : 
Horrible  discord !  till  the  crowd  behind 
Shouting  purMie,  and  part  the  bloody  fray. 
At  once  their  wrath  subsides ;  tame  as  the  lamb 
The  lion  hangs  his  head,  the  furious  paid, 
Cow'd  and  subdued,  flies  from  the  fietce  of  man. 
Nor  bears  one  glance  of  his  commanding  eye. 
So  abject  is  a  tyrant  i^  distress ! 

At  last,  within  the  narrow  plain  confinM, 
A  listed  field,  markM  out  for  bloody  deeds. 
An  amphitheatre  more  gloQous  for  i>eeps> 

Than  ancient  Rome  could  boast,  they  crowd  in 
Dismayed,  and  quite  appalVd.     In  meet  array, 
Sheath'd  in  refulgent  arms,  a  noble  band 
Advance;  great  lords  of  high  imperial  blood. 
Early  resolved  t»  assert  their  royal  race. 
And  prove  by  glorious  deeds  their  valour's  growth 
Mature,  ere  yet  the  callow  down  has  spread 
Its  curling  shade.    On  boM  Arabian  steeds 
With4ecent  pride  they  sit,  that  fearless  hear 
The  lion's  dreadJii]  roar;  and  down  the  rock 
Swift-Shooting  plunge,  or  o'er  the  mountain's  ridge 
Stretching  along,  the  greedy  tiger  leave 
Panting  behrod.    On  foot  their  faithfiil  slaves 
With  javelins  ann'd  attend ;  each  watch^l  eye 
Ffac'd  on  his  3routhful  care,  for  him  alone 
He  fears,  and,  to  redeem  his  life,  unmov'd 
Would  lose  his  own.    The  mighty  Aurengzebe, 
From  his  high-elevated  throne,  beholds 
His  blooming  race ;  revolving  in  his  mind 
What  once  he  was,  m  his  gay  spring  of  life, 
When  vigour  strung  his  nerves.     Parental  joy 
Melts  in  his  eye,  and  flushes  in  his  cheek. 
Now  the  loud  trumpet  sounds  a  charge.  The  shouts 
Of  eager  hosts,  through  all  the  circling  Une, 
And  the  wild  bowlings  of  the  beasts  within 
Rend  wide  the  welkin ;  fligbti  of  ant>ws,  wing»d 
With  death,  and  javelins  lanch'd  from  every  arm 
Gall  sore  the  brutal  bands,  with  many  a  wound   ' 
Gor'd  through  and  through.    Despair  at  last  pre- 
When  fainting  Nature  shrinks,  and  rouses  all  [vails 
Their  drooping  courage.    Swell'd  with  furious  rage! 
Their  eyes  dart  fire ;  and  on  the  youthful  band 
They  rush  implacable.    They  their  broad  shieMs 
Quick  interpose ;  on  each  devoted  head 
Their  flaihing  fidchions,  as  the  bolts  of  Jove, 
Descend  unerring.    Prostrate  on  the  ground 
The  grinning  monstera  lie,  and  their  fbul  gore 
Defiles  the  verdant  plain.    Nor  idle  stand 
The  trusty  sUves;  with  pointed  spears  they  pierce 
Through  their  tough  hides;  or  at  thei?  gaping 
An  easier  passage  find.  The  king  of  brutes  [moutli 
In  broken  roarings  breathes  his  last ;  the  bear 
Grumbles  hi  death ;  nor  can  his  spotted  skin. 
Though  sleek  it  shine,  with  varied  beauties  gay 
Save  the  proud  pard  from  unrelenUng  fate.       * 
The  battle  bleeds,  grim  Slaughter  ntrides  along, 
Gluttmg  her  greedy  jaws,  grins  o'er  her  prey  : 
Men,  horses,  dogs,  fierce  beasts  of  every  kind, 
A  strange  promiscuous  carnage,  drenched  in  b'ood 
And  heaps  on  heaps  amass'd.    What  yet  remain 
Alive,  with  vain  anmlt  contend  to  break 

M  *• 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


W2 


SOMERVIUI'S  POEMS. 


Th'  impenetrable  line.    Others,  whom  fear 
Inspires  with  self-preserving  wiles,  beneath 
The  bodies  of  the  slain  for  shelter  creep. 
Aghast  they  fly,  or  hide  their  headi  dispersed,  [work 
And  now  perchance  (had  Heaven  but  pleased)  the 
Of  death  had  been  compteat ;  and  Aurengzebe 
By  one  dread  frown  extinguished  half  their  race. 
When  lo !  the  bright  sultanas  of  his  court 
Appear,  and  to  his  ravish'd  eyes  display 
Those  charms  but  rarely  to  the  day  reveal'd. 

Lowly  they  bend,  and  humbly  sue,  to  save 
The  vanquished  host     What  mortal  can  deny 
When  suppliant  Beauty  begs  ?  At  his  command. 
Opening  to  right  and  left,  the  well-train'd  troops 
LoAve  a  large  void  for  their  retreating  foes. 
Away  they  fly,  on  wings  of  fear  upborn. 
To  seek  on  distant  hills  their  late  abodes. 

Ye  proud  oppressors,  whose  vain  hearts  exult 
In  wantonness  of  power,  *gainst  the  brute  race. 
Fierce  robbers  like  yourselves,  a  guiltless  war 
Wage  uncontrol'd:    here  quench  your  thirst  of 

blood; 
But  learn  from  Aurengzebe  to  spare  mankind. 


BOOK  III. 


THE  AEGUMBNT. 

Of  king  Edgar,  and  his  imposing  a  tribute  of  wolves' 
heads  upon  the  kings  of  Wales :  from  hence  a 
transition  to  fox-hnnting,  which  is  described  in 
all  its  parts.  Censure  of  An  over -numerous  pack. 
Of  the  several  engines  to  destroy  foxes  and  other 
wild  beasts.  The  steel-trap  described,  and  the 
manner  of  using  it  Description  of  the  pitftdl  for 
the  lion ;  and  another  for  the  elephant  The 
ancient  way  of  hunting  the  tiger  with  a  mirror. 
The  Arabian  manner  of  hunting  the  wild  boar. 
Description  of  the  royal  stag-chase  at  Windsor 
Forest  Concludes  with  an  address  to  his  Miyesty, 
and  an  eulogy  upon  mercy. 

In  Albion's  isle,  when  glorious  Edgar  reign'd. 
He,  wisely  provident,  from  her  white  clifis 
lAuch'd  half  her  forests,  and  with  numerous  fleets 
Cuver'd  his  wide  domain  :  there  proudly  rode 
Ix)rd  of  the  deep,  the  great  prerogative 
Of  British  monarchs.     Each  invader  bold, 
Dane  and  Norwegian,  at  a  distance  gaz'd. 
And,  disappointed,  gnasb'd  his  teeth  in  vain. 
He  scour'd  the  seas  and  to  remotest  shores 
With  swelling  sails  the  trembling  corsair  fled. 
Rich  commerce  flourished  ;  and  with  busy  oars 
Dash'd  the  resounding  surge.     Nor  less  at  land 
His  royal  cares ;  wise,  potent,  gracious  prince  ! 
His  subjects  from  their  cruel  foes  he  sav'd. 
And  from  rapacious  savages  their  flocks  :         [paid 
Cambria*s  proud  kings  (though   with  reluctance) 
Their  tributary  wolves  ;  head  after  head. 
In  full  account,  till  the  woods  yield  no  more. 
And  all  the  ravenous  race  extinct  is  lost 
In  fertile  pastures,  more  securely  grazed 
The  social  troops  ;  and  soon  their  large  increase 
With  curling  fleeces  whitenM  all  the  plains. 
But  yet,  alas  !  the  wily  fux  remained, 
A  subtle,  pilfering  foe,  prowling  around 
In  midnight  shades,  and  wakefni  to  destroy. 
In  the  full  fold,  the  poor  defenceless  lamb, 
5>eiz'd  by  his  guileful  arts,  with  sweet  warm  blood 
Supplies  a  rich  repast    The  mournful  ewe. 


Her  dearest  treaimne  lost,  through  the  dun  uigfat 
Wanders  perplexed,  and  darkling  bleats  in  vain  : 
While  in  th*  adjacent  bush,  poor  Philomel, 
(Herself  a  parent  once,  till  wanton  chnris 
De^poiPd  her  nest)  joins  in  her  loud  laments. 
With  sweeter  notes,  and  more  melodious  woe 

For  these  nocturnal  thieves,  huntsman,  prepare 
Thy  sharpest  vengeance.     Oh  !  how  glorious  'tit 
To  right  th*  oppressM,  and  bring  the  felon  vile 
To  just  disgrace  !  Ere  yet  the  morning  peep. 
Or  stars  retire  from  the  first  blush  of  day. 
With  thy  far-echoing  voice  alarm  thy  pack. 
And  rouse  thy  bold  compeers.    Then  to  the  coptCy 
Thick  with  entangling  grass,  or  prickly  furze. 
With  silence  lead  thy  many  coloured  hounds. 
In  all  their  beauty's  pride.    See !  how  they  range 
Dispersed,  how  busily  this  way,  and  that. 
They  cross,  examining  with  curious  nose 
Each  likely  haunt.     Hark !  on  the  drag  I  bear 
Their  doubtful  notes,  preluding  to  a  cry 
More  nobly  full,  and  sweli'd  with  every  mouth. 
As  straggling  armies,  at  the  trumpet's  voice. 
Press  to  their  standard ;  hither  all  repair. 
And  hurry  through  the  woods ;  with  hasty  step 
Rustling,  and  fiill  of  hope;  now  driven  on  heaps 
They  push,  they  strive;  while  from  his   kennel 

sneaks 
The  conscious  villam.    See !  he  skulks  along. 
Sleek  at  the  shepherd's  cost,  and  plump  with  i 
Purioin'd.    So  thrive  the  wicked  here  below. 
Though  high  his  brush  he  bear,  though  tipC  with 
It  gaily  shine  ;  yet  ere  the  Sun  declined         [white 
Recal  the  shades  of  night,  the  pamper  d  rogue 
Shall  rue  his  fate  revers*d,  and  at  his  heeb 
Behold  the  just  avenger,  swift  to  seize 
His  forfoit  head,  and  thirsting  for  his  Uopd.  [hearts 

Heavens !  what  melodious  strains  !  how  beat  our 
Big  with  tumultuous  joy  !  the  loaded  gales 
Breathe  harmony ;  iad  as  the  tempest  drives 
From  wood  to  wood,  through  every  dark  recess 
The  forest  thunders,  and  the  mountains  shake. 
The  chords  swells ;  less  various,  and  less  sweet. 
The  trilling  notes,  when  in  those  very  gproves. 
The  feather'd  choristers  salute  the  Spring, 
And  every  bush  in  concert  joins ;  or  when 
The  maste-r^s  hand,  in  modulated  air. 
Bids  the  loud  organ  breathe,  and  all  the  powers 
Of  music  in  one  instrument  combine. 
An  universal  minstrelsy.     And  now 
In  vain  each  earth  he  tries,  the  doors  are  bair'd 
Impregnable,  nor  is  the  covert  safe ; 
He  pants  for  purer  air.     Hark  !  what  loud  shoots 
Re-echo  through  the  groves  !  he  breaks  away. 
Shrill  horns  proclaim  his  flight    Each  straggling 

hound 
Strains  o'er  the  lawn  to  reach  the  distant  pack. 
Tis  triumph  all  and  joy.    Now,  my  brave  youths^ 
Now  give  a  loose  to  the  clean  generous  steed  ; 
Flourish  the  whip,  nor  spare  the  galling  spur; 
But,  in  the  madness  of  delight,  forget 
Your  fears.     Far  o'er  the  rocky  hills  we  range. 
And  dangerous  our  course ;  but  in  the  brave 
True  courage  never  fails.     In  vain  the  stream 
In  fbaming  eddies  whiris ;  in  vain  the  ditch 
Wide-gaping  threatens  death.    The  craggy  steeps 
Where  the  poor  dizzy  shepherd  crawls  irith  care. 
And  clings  to  every  twig,  givea  us  no  pain ; 
But  down  we  sweep,  as  stoops  the  folcon  bold 
To  pounce  his  piey.    Then  up  th'  c^ipoiieiit  hil^ 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


THE  CHASE. 


lS3 


B7  the  swift  motkm  slan^r,  we  mount  aloft: 
So  ships  m  whiter-seas  now  sliding?  sink 
Adown  the  steepy  wave,  then  tossM  on  high 
Hide  on  the  billows,  and  defy  the  storm.        [Chase 
What  lengths  we  pass !  where  will  the  wandering 
Lead  us  bewildered !  smooth  as  swallows  skim 
The  new -shorn  mead,  and  far  more  swift,  we  fly. 
See  my  brave  pack ;  how  to  the  head  they  press. 
Jostling  in  close  array,  then  more  diffuse 
ObHqoely  wheel,  while  from  their  opening  months 
The  vollied  thunder  breaks.     So  when  the  cranes 
Their  annual  Tojrage  steer,  with  wanton  wing 
Their  figure  oft  they  change,  and  their  loud  clang 
From  cload  to  clood  rebounds.     How  far  behind 
The  hunter-crew,  wide-strasrgling  o'er  the  plain  ! 
The  panting  courser  now  with  trembling  nerves 
Begins  to  reel ;  orj?'d  by  the  goring  spur, 
Makes  many  a  faint  effort :  he  snorts,  he  foams, 
The  big  round  drops  run  trickling  down  his  sides. 
With  sweat  and  blood  distain'd.    Ix)ok  back  and  view 
The  strange  confusion  of  the  vale  below, 
Where  sour  vexation  reigns ;  see  yon  poor  Jade  ! 
In  vain  th'  hnpatient  rider  f^ets  and  swears ; 
With  galling  spurs  harrows  his  mangled  sides  ; 
He  can  no  more :  his  st^  unpliant  limbs 
Rooted  in  earth,  uunov'd  and  ftx*d  he  stands, 
For  every  croel  curse  returns  a  groan, 
And  lobs,  and  fiiints,  and  dies.     Who  without  grief 
Can  view  that  pamperM  steed,  his  master's  joy. 
His  minion,  and  his  daily  care,  well  cloath'd. 
Well  fed  with  every  nicer  cate ;  no  cost. 
No  labour  spar'd ;  who,  when  the  fl3nng  Chase 
Broke  from  the  copse,  without  a  rival  led 
The  numerous  train:  now  a  sad  spectacle 
Of  pride  brought  low,  and  humbl'd  insolence, 
Dnwe  like  a  pannier^d  ass,  and  scourg'd  along. 
"HTiile  these,  with  loosen'd  reins  and  dangling  heels, 
Haog  on  their  reeling  palfreys,  that  scarce  bear 
Their  weights :  another  in  the  treacherous  bog 
Lies  floundering    half   ingulph'd.      What    biting 

thoughts 
Tormeot  th'  abandon*d  crew !  Old  age  laments 
His  vigoor  spent :  the  tall,  pi  amp,  brawny  youth 
Curies  his  cumberous  bulk ;  and  envies  now 
The  short  pygmean  race,  he  whilom  kenn'd 
With  proud  tnsniting  leer.     A  chosen  few 
Akme  the  sport  enjoy,  nor  droop  beneath      [height 
Their  pleasing  toils.     Here,  huntsman,  from  this 
Observe  yon  birds  of  prey ;  if  I  can  judge, 
1%  there  the  villain  lurks :  they  hover  round 
And  claim  him  as  their  own.     Was  I  not  right  ? 
See !  there  he  creeps  along;  his  brush  he  drags. 
And  sweeps  the  mire  impure ;  from  his  wide  jaws 
His  tongue  nnmoisten'd  hangs ;  symptoms  too  sore 
Of  sudden  death.     Ha  !  yet  he  flies,  nor  yields 
To  Wack  despair.   But  one  loose  more,  and  all 
His  vrileii  are  vain.    Hark  !  through  yon  village  now 
The  rattling  clamour  rings.    The  bams,  the  cots, 
And  leafless  elms  return  the  joyous  sounds. 
Through  every  homestall,  and  through  every  yard. 
His  midnight  walks,  panting,  forlorn,  he  flies  ; 
Through  every  bole  he  sneaks,  through  every  jakes 
Plunging  be  wades  besmear'd,  and  fondly  hopes 
hi  a  superior  stench  to  lose  his  own  : 
But,  fiiithful  to  the  track,  th*  unerring  honnds 
With  peals  of  echoing  vengeance  close  pursue. 
And  now  distress'd,  no  sheltering  covert  near. 
Into  the  hen -roost  creeps,  whose  walls  with  gore 
I>i>tam*d  attest  bif  guilt.    There,  villain,  there 


Expect  thy  fate  deserv'd.    And  soon  from  thence 
The  pack  inquisitive,  with  clamour  loud, 
Drag  out  their  trembling  prize  ;  and  on  his  blood 
With  greedy  transport  feast.     In  l)older  notes 
Each  sounding  horn  proclaims  the  felon  dead : 
And  all  th'  assembled  village  shouts  for  joy. 
The  farmer,  who  beholds  his  mortal  fue 
Stretch'd  at  his  feet,  applauds  the  glorious  deed^ 
And  grateful  calls  us  to  a  short  repast : 
In  the  full  glass  the  liquid  amljier  smiles,  ^ 

Our  native  product;  and  his  good  old  mate 
With  choicest  viands  heaps  the  liberal  board. 
To  crown  our  triumphs,  and  reward  our  toils. 

Here  mustth'  instructive  Muse  (but  with  respect) 
Ceusure  that  numerous  pack,  that  crowd  of  state. 
With  which  the  vain  profiision  of  the  great 
Givers  the  lawn,  and  shakes  the  trembling  copse. 
Pompous  encumbrance  !  A  magnificence 
Useless,  vexatious !  For  the  wily  fox. 
Safe  in  th'  increasing  number  of  his  ibes, 
Kens  well  the  great  advantage :  slinks  behind. 
And  slyly  creeps  through  the  same  beaten  track. 
And  hunts  them  step  by  step :  then  views,  e^ap'd. 
With  inward  extasy,  the  panting  throng 
In  their  own  footsteps  puzzled,  foiPd,  and  lost. 
So  when  proud  eastern  kings  summon  to  arms 
Their  gaudy  legions,  from  far  distant  climes 
They  flock  in  crowds,  unpeopling  half  a  world : 
But  when  the  day  of  battle  calls  them  forth 
To  charge  the  well-train'd  foe,  a  band  compact 
Of  chosen  veterans ;  they  press  blindly  on. 
In  heaps  confus'd  by  their  own  weapons  fall, 
A  smoaking  carnage  scatter'd  o'er  the  plain. 

Nor  hounds  alone  this  noxious  brood  destroy : 
The  plunder'd  warrencr  full  many  a  wile 
Devises  to  entrap  his  greedy  foe. 
Fat  with  nocturnal  spoils.     At  close  of  day. 
With  silence  drags  his  trail ;  then  from  the  ground 
Pares  thin  the  close-graz'd  turf,  there  with  nice 
Covers  the  latent  death,  with  curious  springs  [hand 
Prepared  to  fly  at  once,  whene'er  the  tread 
Of  man  or  beast  unwarily  shall  press 
The  yielding  surface.     By  th'  indented  steel 
With  gripe  tenacious  held,  the  felon  grins. 
And  struggles,  but  in  vain :  yet  oft  'tis  known. 
When  jevcry  art  has  fail'd,  the  captive  fox 
Has  shar'd  the  woundethjoint,  and  with  a  limb 
Compounded  for  his  life.     But,  if  perchance 
In  the  deep  pitfall  plung'd,  there  's  no  escape; 
But  unrepriov'd  he  dies,  and  blcach'd  in  air. 
The  jest  of  clowns*,  his  reeking  carcass  hangs. 

Of  these  are  various  kinds  ;  not  even  the  king 
Of  brutes  evades  this  deep  devouring  grave : 
But,  by  the  wily  African  betrayHl, 
Heedless  of  fiite,  within  its  gaping  jaws 
Expires  indignant     When  the  orient  beam 
With  blushes  paints  the  dawn  ;  and  all  the  race 
Carnivorous,  with  blood  fulF-gorg'd,  retire 
Into  their  darksom  cells,  there  satiate  snore 
O'er  dripping  ofials,  and  the  mangled  limbs 
Of  men  and  beasts ;  the  painful  forester 
Climbs  the  high  hills,  whose  proud  aspiring  top9 
With  the  tall  cedar  crown'd,  and  taper  fir, 
Assail  the  clouds.    There  'mong  the  craggy  rocks. 
And  thickets  intricate,  trembling  he  views 
His  footsteps  in  the  sand  ;  the  dismal  road 
And  avenue  to  Death.     Hither  he  calls 
His  watchful  bands ;  and  low  into  the  ground 
A  pit  they  siuK>  full  many  a  fiithom  deep. 


Digitized  by  CjOOQ IC 


lS4 


SOMEKVILE'S  POEMS. 


Then  in  the  midst  a  column  high  is  rear'd. 
The  but  of  some  &ir  tree ;  upon  whose  top 
A  lamb  is  placM,  just  tavishM  from  bis  da^ 
And  next  a  wall  they  build,  with  stones  and  eaith 
Encircling  round,  and  hiding  from  all  view 
*rhe  dreadful  precipice.    Now  when  the  shades 
Of  night  hang  lowering  o'er  the  mountain's  brow  ; 
And  hunger  keen,  and  pungent  thirst  of  blood, 
Bouze  up  the  ebthful  beast,  he  shakes  his  sides. 
Slow-rising  from  his  lair,  and  stretches  wide 
His  ravenous  paws,  with  recent  gore  distain*d. 
The  forests  tremble,  as  he  ruars  aloud. 
Impatient  to  destroy.    O'eijoy'd  he  hears 
The  bleating  innocent,  that  claims  in  vain 
The  shepherd's  care,  and  seeks  with  piteous  moan 
The  fbodftil  teat  j  himself  alas!  designed 
Another's  meal.    For  now  the  greedy  brute 
"Ulnds  him  from  far;  and  leaping  o'er  the  mound 
To  seize  his  tremblmg  prey,  headlong  is  plung'd 
Into  the  deep  abyss.    Prostrate  he  lies 
Astunn'd  and  impotent     Ah!  what  avail 
Thine  eye-balls  flashing  fire,  thy  length  of  tail. 
That  lashes  thy  broad  sides,  thy  jaws  besmcar'd 
With  blood  and  ofials  crude,  thy  shaggy  mane 
The  terrour  of  the  woods,  thy  stately  port. 
And  bulk  enormous,  since  by  stratagem 
Thy  strength  is  foil'd  ?  Unequal  is  the  strife^ 
When  sovereign  reason  combats  brutal  rage* 

On  distant  Ethiopia's  sun-burnt  coasts. 
The  black  inhabitants  a  pitfall  frame. 
But  of  a  di^rent  kind,  and  different  use. 
With  slender  poles  the  wide  capacious  mouth. 
And  hurdles  slight,  they  close ;  o'er  these  is  spread 
A -floor  of  verdant  turf,  with  all  its  flowers 
Snuling  delusive,  and  from  strictest  search 
Concealing  the  deep  grave  that  yawns  below. 
Then  boughs  of  trees  they  cut,  with  tempting  fruit 
Of  various  kinds  surcharg'd  ;  the  downy  peach. 
The  clustering  vine,  and  of  bright  golden  rind 
The  fragrant  orange.    Soon  as  evening  grey 
Advances  slow,  besprinkling  all  aiound 
With  kind  refreshing  dews  the  thirsty  glebe. 
The  stately  elephant  from  the  close  shade 
With  step  majestic  strides,  eager  to  taste 
The  cooler  breeze,  that  from  the  sea-beat  shore 
Delightful  breathes,  or  in  the  limpid  stoeam   . 
To  lave  his  panting  sides ;  joyous  he  scents 
The  rich  repast,  unweeting  of  the  death 
That  lurks  withm.    And  soon  he  sportmg  breaks 
The  brittle  boughs,  and  greedily  devours 
The  fniit  delicious.    Ah  !  too  deariy  bought  j 
Hie  price  is  life.    For  now  the  treacherous  turf 
Trembling  gives  way  ;  and  the  unwieldy  beast. 
Self-sinking,  drops  into  the  dark  profound. 
So  wlien  dilated  vapours,  struggling,  heave 
Th'  incumbent  earth ;  if  chance  the  cavem'd  gronnd 
Shrinking  subside,  and  thf  thin  surfiue  yield, 
D^wn  sinks  at  once  the  ponderous  dome,  ingiilph'd 
With  all  its  towers.    Subtle,  delusive  man  ! 
How  various  are  thy  wiles  !  artful  to  kill 
Thy  savage  foes,. a  dull  unthinkmg  race ! 
Fiecee  from  bis  lair,  springs  fbrth  the  speckled  paid 
Hiirsting  for  blood,  and  eager  to  destroy ; 
The  huntsman  flies,  but  to  bis  flight  alone 
Confides  not :  at  convenient  distance  fi^d, 
A  polish'd  mirror  stops  in  full  career 
The  furious  brute  :  he  there  his  image  views  ; 
Spots  against  spots  with  rage  improving  glow  ; 
Another  pard  bis  bristly  whiskeiv  curls^ 


Grins  as  he  grins,  fieree-menaciog,  and  wid» 
Distends  his  opening  paws ;  himself  against 
Himself  opposed,  and  with  dread  vengeance  arm'd. 
The  huntsman,  now  secure,  with  fiital  aim 
Directs  the  pointed  spear,  by  which  transfix'd 
He  dies,  and  with  him  dies  the  rival  shade. 
Thus  man  innumerous  engines  forms,  t'  assaU 
Tlie  savage  kind ;  but  moo^t  the  docile  hoaeg 
Swift  and  confederate  with  man,  annoys 
His  brethren  of  the  plains ;  without  whose  aid 
The  hunter's  arts  are  vam,  unskill'd  to  wage 
With  the  more  active  brutes  an  equal  war. 
But  home  by  him,  without  the  well-train'd  padf* 
Man  dares  his  foe,  on  wings  of  wind  secure. 

Him  the  fierce  Arab  mounts,  and,  with  his  troop 
Of  bold  compeers,  ranges  the  deserts  wild. 
Where,  by  the  magnet's  aid,  the  traveller 
Steers  his  untrodden  course ;  yet  oft  op  land 
Is  wrecked,  in  the  high-rolling  waves  of  sand 
Immerst  aqd  lost    While  these  intrepid  bands. 
Safe  in  their  horses  ^eed,  out-fly  the  storm,  Q*^* 
And  scouring  round,  make  men  ajjMl  hearts  their 
The  grisly  boar  is  singled  from  his  herd. 
As  large  as  that  in  Erimanthian  woods, 
A  match  for  Hercules.    Round  hnn  they  fly 
In  circles  wide  ;  and  each  in  paasing^sends 
His  feather'd  death  into  his  brawny  sides. 
But  perilous  th'  attempt    For  if  the  staed 
Haply  too  near  approach ;  or  the  loose  earth 
His  footing  fidl,  the  watchful  angry  beast 
Th' advantage  spies ;  and  at  one  sidekmg  glance 
Rips  up  his  groin.    Wounded,  he  rears  ah^ 
And,  plunging,  frt>m  his  back  the  rider  hurts 
Precipitant;  then  bleeding  spurns  the  ground* 
And  drags  his  reeking  entrails  o'ei*  the  plain. 
Mean  while  the  suriy  monster  trots  along. 
But  with  unequal  speed ;  for  still  they  wound. 
Swift-wheeling  in  the  spacious  ring.    A  wood 
Of  darts  upon  his  back  he  bears;  adown 
His  tortur'd  sides,  the  crimson  torrents  roll 
From  many  a  gaping  font    And  now  at  last 
Staggering  he  falls,  in  blood  and  foam  expires. 

But  whither  roves  my  devious  Muse,  intent 
On  antkpie  tales  ?  While  yet  the  royal  stag 
Unsung  remains.    Tread  with  respectful  awe 
Windsor's  green  glades;  where  Denham,tanefulbaid, 
Charm'd  once  the  listenmg  Dryads,  with  his  song 
SubUmely  sweet    O!  grant  me,  sacred  shade. 
To  glean  submiss  what  thy  full  sickle  leaves. 

The  morning  Sun,  that  gilds  with  trembling  rayi 
Windsor's  high  towers,  beholds  the  courtly  tram 
Mount  for  the  chase,  nor  views  in  all  his  cosusa 
A  scene  so  gay:  heroic,  noble  youths. 
In  arts  and  arms  renown'd,  and  lovely  nymphs 
The  fairest  of  this  isle,  where  Beauty  dwelb 
Delighted,  and  deserts  he^  I^hian  grove 
For  our  more  favour'd  shades :  in  proud  paiads 
These  shine  magnificent,  and  press  around 
The  royal  happy  pair.    Great  in  themselves^ 
They  smile  superior;  of  external  show 
Regardless,  while  their  inbred  vhrtnes  give 
A  lustre  to  their  power,  and  grace  their  court 
With  real  splendours,  fiu-  above  the  pomp 
Of  eastern  kings,  in  all  their  tinsel  pride, 
like  troops  of  Amazons,  the  female  band 
Prance  round  their  cars,  not  in  refulgent  armi 
Asthoseofold;  unskiU'd  to  wield  the  swoid. 
Or  bend  the  bow,  these  kill  with  surer  ainu 
The  royal  oaring,  fiurert  of  the  fiur» 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  CHASE. 


16S 


Jjtta  oo  ui6  fpfCBuici  tniD*    Amis*  Bi0f6  bn|pit 

Than  smmiiAr  sans,  or  as  the  lightniag  keeo, 

With  nreMtihle  eflblgence  ann'd, 

Kres  every  heart.    He  most  be  more  than  man. 

Who  QneoDcem'd  can  bear  the  piercing  ray. 

Amelia,  milder  than  the  biushiDg  dawn. 

With  mntet  engaging  air,  but  equal  power. 

Insensibly  tabdues,  and  in  soft  chains 

Her  willing  captives  leads.     Illustrious  maids. 

Ever  triomphttit  J  whose  victorious  charms, 

Witiioat  the  needless  aid  of  high  descent. 

Had  aw*d  mankind,  and  taught  the  world*s  great 

lonk 
To  bow  and  sue  for  grace.    But  who  is  he 
Aesh  as  a  ro8e4N]d  newly  blown,  and  hk 
Ab  opening  lilies ;  on  whom  every  eye 
With  joy  and  admiration  dwells  ?  See,  see. 
He  reins  his  docile  barb  with  manly  grace. 
Is  it  Adonis  for  the  chase  arrajr^d  ? 
Or  Britain's  second  hqpe  ?  Hai],  blooming  youth  ! 
May  all  your  virtues  with  your  years  improve. 
Till  in  consummate  worth,  you  shine  the  pride 
Of  these  our  days,  and  to  succeeding  times 
A  bright  example.    As  his  guard  of  mutes 
On  the  great  sultan  wait,  with  eyes  deject. 
And  fix*d  on  earth,  no  Voice,  no  sound  is  heard 
Within  the  wide  serail,  but  all  b  hushM, 
And  awful  silence  reigns ;  thus  stand  the  pack 
Mute  and  unmov*d,  and  cowering  low  to  earth, 
While  pass  the  gUttering  court,  and  royal  pair : 
So  disciplin*d  those  hounds,  and  so  reserved, 
Whose  honour  'tis  to  glad  the  hearts  of  kings. 
But  soon  the  winding  bom,  and  huntsman's  voice. 
Let  loose  the  general  chorus ;  far  around 
Joy  spreads  its  wings,  and  the  gay  morning  smiles. 

Unharbofur'dnow  the  royal  stag  forsakes 
His  wonted  lair  ;  he  shakes  his  dappled  sides. 
And  tosses  high  his  beamy  head,  the  copse 
Beneath  his  antlers  bends.    What  doubling  shifts 
He  tries !  not  more  the  wily  hare ;  in  these 
Would  still  persist,  did  not  the  full-mouth'd  pack 
With  dreadful  concert  thunder  in  his  rear. 
The  woods  reply,  the  hunter's  chearing  shouts 
Float  through  the  glades,  and  the  wide  forest  rings. 
How  merrily  they  chant !  their  nostrils  deep 
Inhale  the  grateful  steam.     Such  is  the  cry. 
And  such  th'  harmonious  din,  the  soldier  deems 
Tbe  battle  kindling,  and  the  statesman  grave 
Forgets  his  weighty  cares ;  each  age,  each  sex. 
In  the  wild  transport  joins ;  luxuriant  joy. 
And  pleasure  in  excess,  sparkling  exult 
On  every  brow,  and  revel  unrestratn'd. 
How  happy  art  thou,  man,  when  thou  'rt  no  more 
Thyself !  when  all  tbe  pangs  that  grind  thy  soul. 
In  rapture  and  in  sweet  oblivion  lost. 
Yield  a  short  mterval  and  ease  from  pam  * 

See  tbe  swift  courser  strains,  his  shhung  hoofr 
Securely  beat  thesdid  ground.    Who  now 
The  dangerous  pit&U  f^ars,  with  tangling  heath 
High-overgrown  }  or  who  the  quivering  bog 
Soft-yielduig  to  the  step?  All  now  is  plain. 
Flam  as  tbe  strand  sea-UvM,  that  stretches  far 
Beneath  the  rocky  shore.     Glades  crossing  glades 
The  forest  opens  to  our  wondering  view  : 
Such  was  the  king*s  command.    Let  tyrants  fieroe 
Lay  waste  the  work! ;  his  the  more  glorious  put 
To  check  their  pride;  and  when  the  brazen  voice 
Of  war  is  hush'd  (as  erst  victorious  Rome) 
T  employ  his  ftatkm'd  legioQi  in  tbe  wocki 


Of  peace;  to  smooth  the  ragged  wildemess. 
To  drain  tbe  stagnate  fen,  to  raise  the  slope 
Depending  road,  and  to  make  gay  the  face 
Of  Nature,  with  th'  embellishments  of  Art. 

How  melts  my  beating  heart !  as  I  behold 
Each  lovely  nymph,  our  island's  boast  and  pride. 
Push  on  the  generous  steed,  that  strokes  along 
O'er  rough,  o'er  smooth,  nor  heeds  the  steepy  bill. 
Nor  fauhers  in  th'  extended  vale  below : 
Their  i^rments  loosely  wavmg  in  the  wind. 
And  aU  the  flush  of  beauty  in  their  cheeks ! 
While  at  their  sides  their  pensive  lovers  wait. 
Direct  their  dubious  course ;  now  chill'd  with  fear 
Solicitous,  and  now  with  love  inflam'd. 
O  !  grant,  indulgent  Heaven,  no  rising  storm 
May  darken  with  black  wings  this  glorious  scene  f 
ShcNildsome  malignadt  power  thus  damp  our  joys, 
'Vain  were  the  gloomy  cave,  such  as  of  old     , 
Betray'd  to  lawless  love  the  Tyrian  queen. 
For  Britain's  virtuous  nymphs  are  chaste  as  fair. 
Spotless,  unblam'd,  with  equal  triumph  reign 
In  the  dun  gloom,  as  in  tbe  blaze  of  day. 

Now  the  blown  stag,  through  woods,  bogs,roads,  Pid 
Has  measur'd  half  the  forest ;  but  alas !     [streams 
He  flies  in  vain,  he  flies  not  firora  his  fiears. 
Though  for  he  cast  the  lingering  pack  behind. 
His  haggard  fancy  still  with  horrour  views 
The  fell  destroyer;  still  the  fatal  cry 
Insults  his  ears,  and  wounds  bis  trembling  heart. 
So  the  poor  fury-haunted  wretch  (his  bstnds 
In  guiltless  blood  distam'd)  still  seems  to  hear 
The  djring  shrieks ;  and  the  pale  threatening  gfaoA 
Moves  ka  he  moves,  and  as  he  flies,  pursues. 
See  here  his  slot ;  up  yon  green  hill  he  climbs. 
Pants  on  its  brow  a  while,  sadly  looks  back 
Oh  his  pursuers,  covering  all  the  plain ; 
But  wrung  with  anguish,  bears  not  long  the  sight. 
Shoots  down  the  steep,  and  sweats  along  the  vale 
There  mingles  with  the  herd,  where  once  hereign'd 
Proud  monarch  of  the  groves,  whose  clashing  beam 
His  rivals  aw'd,  and  whose  exalted  power 
Was  still  rewarded  with  successfol  love; 
But  the  base  herd  have  leam'd  the  ways  of  men. 
Averse  they  fly,  or  with  rebellious  aim 
Chase himfrom thence:  needlesstheirimpionsdfeed. 
The  huntsman  knows  him  by  a  thousand  marks. 
Black,  and  imbost ;  nor  are  his  hounds  deceiv'd  j 
Too  well  distinguish  these,  and  never  leave 
Their  once  devoted  foe ;  fomiliar  grows 
His  scent,  and  strong  their  appetite  to  kilL 
Again  he  flies,  and  with  redoubled  speed 
Skims  o'er  the  lawn ;  still  the  tenacious  cresr 
Hang  on  the  track,  aloud  demand  their  prey. 
And  push  him  many  a  league.     If  haply  then 
Too  for  escap'dy  and  the  gay  courtly  train 
Behmd  are  cast ,  the  huntsman's  clangmg  whip 
Stops  full  their  bold  career ;  passive  they  stand, 
Unmov'd,  an  humble,  an  obsequious  crowd. 
As  if  by  stern  Medusa  gaz'd  to  stones. 
So  at  their  general's  voice  whole  armies  halt 
In  full  pursuit,  and  check  their  thirst  of  blood. 
Soon  at  the  king's  command,  like  hasty  streams 
Damm'd  up  a  while,  they  foam,  and  po«r  along 
With  fresh  recruited  might.    The  stag,  who  hop'd 
His  foes  were  lost,  now  once  more  hears  astuim'd 
The  dreadful  din ;  he  shivers  every  limb. 
He  starts,  he  bounds ;  each  bush  presents  a  foe. 
Press'd  by  the  fresh  relay,  no  pause  allow'd. 
Breathless,  and  fomt,  he  faujt^  in  his  pace, 

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SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


And  lifU  his  treary  limbf  with  pain»  that  scarce 
Sustain  their  load :  he  pants,  be  sobs  appalled  ! 
Drops  down  his  heavy  head  to  earth,  beneath 
His  cumbrous  beams  oppressed.     But  if  perchance 
Some  prying  c^ye  surprize  him  ;  soon  be  rears 
Erect  his  towering  front,  boundis  o'er  the  lawn 
"U'ith  ill-dissembled  vigour,  to  amuse 
The  knowing  forester ;  who  inly  smiles 
At  hi^  weak  shifts  and  unavailing  frauds. 
So  midnight  tapers  waste  their  last  remains, 
Shine  forth  a  while,  and  as  they  blaze  expire. 
From  wood  to  wood  redoubling  thunders  roll. 
And  bellow  throuirh  the  vales  ;  the  moving  storm 
Thickens  amain,  and  loud  triumphant  shouts. 
And  horns  shrill-warbling  in  each  glade,  prelude 
To  his  approaching  fate.     And  now  in  view 
With  hobbling  gait,  and  high,  exerts  aniaz'd 
What  strength  is  left :  to  the  last  dregs  of  life 
Keduc'd,  his  spirits  fail,  on  every  side 
Hemm'd  in,  besiegd ;  not  the  least  openhag  left 
To  gleaming  hope,  th*  unhappy's  last  reserve. 
Where  shall  he  turn  ?  or  whither  fly  ?  Drspair 
G've» courage  to  the  weak.     Resolved  to  die, 
He  fears  no  more,  but  rushes  on  his  foes, 
And  deals  his  deaths  around ;  beneath  his  feet 
These  groveling  lie,  those  by  his  antlers  gor'd 
Defile  th'  ensanguined  plain.     Ah  !  see  distress^ 
He  stands  at  bey  against  yon  knotty  trunk. 
That  covers  well  his  rear,  his  front  presents 
An  host  of  foes.     O !  shun,  ye  noble  train. 
The  rude  encounter,  and  believe  }'our  livea 
Your  country's  due  alone.     As  now  aloof 
They  wing  around,  he  finds  his  soul  uprais'd. 
To  dare  some  great  exploit ;  \%e  charges  home 
Upon  the  broken  pack,  that  on  each  skle 
Fly  diverse ;  then  as  o'er  the  turf  he  strains. 
He  vents  the  cooling  stream,  and  up  the  breeze 
'  Urges  bis  course  with  equal  violence : 
Then  takes  the  soil,  and  plunges  in  the  flood 
Precipitant ;  down  the  mid-stream  he  wafls 
Along,  till  (like  a  ship  distress'd,  that  runs 
Into  some  winding  creek)  cloae  to  the  verge 
Of  a  small  island,  for  his  weary  feet 
Sure  anchorage  he  finds,  there  skulks  immers'd. 
His  nose  alone  above  the  wave  draws  in 
The  vital  air ;  all  else  beneath  the  flood 
Concealed,  and  lost,  deceives  each  prying  eye 
Of  man  or  brute.      In  vain  the  crowding  pack 
Draw  on  the  margin  of  the  stream,  or  cut 
The  liquid  wave  with  oary  feet,  that  move 
In  equal  time.    The  gliding  waters  leave 
No  trace  behind,  and  his  contracted  pores 
But  sparingly  perspire :  the  huntsman  strains 
His  labouring  lungs,  and  pufis  his  cheeks  in  vain : 
At  length  a  blond-hound  bold,  studious  to  kill. 
And  exquisite  of  sense,  winds  him  from  far ; 
Headlong  he  leap6  into  the  flood,  his  mouth 
Loud  opening  spends  amain,  and  his  wide  throat 
Swells  every  note  with  joy;  then  fearless  dives 
Beneath  the  wave,  hangs  on  his  haunch,  and  wounds 
Th*  unhappy  brute,  that  flounders  in  the  stream 
Sorely  distress'd,  and  stnigglnig  strives  to  mount 
The  steepy  shore.     Haply  once  more  escap'd. 
Again  he  stands  at  bay,  amid  the  groves 
Of  willows,  bending  low  their  downy  heads. 
Outrageous  transport  fires  the  greedy  pack ; 
These  swim  the  deep,  and  those  crawl  up  with  pain 
The  slippery  bank,  while  others  on  firm  land 
Kngage ;  the  stag  repels  each  bokl  assault. 


Maintains  his  pott,  ahd  wounds  for  wmmds  tvtnroiL 
As  when  some  wily  corsair  boards  a  ship 
Full-freighted,  or  from  Afric's  golden  coasts. 
Or  India's  wealthy  strand,  his  bloody  crew 
Upon  her  deck  he  slings ;  these  in  the  deep 
Drop  short,  and  swim  to  reach  her  stnepy  sidea , 
And  clinging  climb  aloft ;  while  those  on  board 
Urge  on  the  work  of  Fate ;  the  master  bold 
Press'd  to  his  lai>t  retreat,  bravely  resolves 
To  sink  his  wealth  beneath  the  whelming  wave. 
His  wealth,  his  foes,  nor  unreveng'd  to  die. 
So  fares  it  with  the  stag  :  so  he  resolves 
To  p'.unge  at  once  into  the  flood  below. 
Himself,  his  foes,  in  one  deep  gulph  tmmers'd. 
Ere  yet  he  executes  this  dire  intent. 
In  wild  disorder  once  more  views  the  light; 
Beneath  a  weight  of  woe  he  groans  distress'd. 
The  tears  run  trickling  down  his  hairy  cheeks ; 
He  weeps,  nor  weeps  in  vain.     The  king  beholds 
His  wretched  plight,  and  tenderness  innate 
Moves  his  great  souU   Soon  at  his  high  conAnaiMl 
Rebuk'd,  the  disappointed,  hungry  pack. 
Retire  submiss,  and  grumMing  quit  their  prey. 

Great  Prince  !  from  thee  what  may  thy  subjects 
So  kind,  and  so  beneficent  to  brutes  ?  [hope  ; 

O  Mercy,  heavenly  bom  !  sweet  attribute  \ 
Thou  great,  thou  best  prerogative  of  power ! 
Justice  may  guard  the  throne,  but,  join'd  with  thee. 
On  rocks  oif  adamaut  it  stands  secure. 
And  braves  the  storm  beneath  ;  soon  as  thy  smiles 
Gild  the  rough  deep,  the  foaming  waves  subside^ 
And  all  the  noisy  tumult  sinks  in  peace. 


BOOK  IV. 


THE   AHOUMENT. 

Of  the  necessity  of  destroying  some  beasts,  and  pre- 
serving others  for  the  use  of  man.  Of  breeding  of 
hounds ;  the  season  for  th*s  business.  The  choice 
of  the  dog,  of  great  moment  Of  the  litter  of 
whelps.  Of  the  number  to  be  reared.  Of  setting 
them  out  to  their  se^'eral  walks.  Care  to  be  taken 
to  prevent  their  hunting  too  soon.  Of  entering 
the  whelps.  Of  breaking  them  fix«n  running  at 
sheep.  Of  the  diseases  of  hounds.  Of  their  age. 
Of  madness ;  two  sorts  of  it  described,  the  dumb 
and  outrageous  madness:  its  dreadful  effects. 
Burning  of  the  wound  recommended  as  prevent- 
ing all  ill  consequence?.  The  infectious  hounds  to 
be  separated,  and  fed  apart.  Hie  vanity  of  trust- 
ing to  the  many  infallible  cures  for  this  malady. 
The  dismal  effects  of  the  biting  of  a  mad  dog,  upon 
man,  desc  ribed .  Description  of  the  otter  hunting. 
The  conclusion. 

Whatb'br  of  earth  is  fbrm'd,  to  earth  returns 
Dissolv'd :  the  various  objects  we  behold. 
Plants,  animals,  this  wlxile  material  mass. 
Are  ever  changing,  ever  new.     The  soul 
Of  man  alone,  that  particle  divine. 
Escapes  the  wreck  of  worlds,  when  all  things  fail. 
Hence  great  the  distance  'twixt  the  beasts  that  perish, 
And  God's  bright  image,  man's  immortal  race. 
The  brute  creation  are  his  property, 
Subservient  to  his  will,  and  for  him  made. 
As  hurtful  these  he  kills,  as  useful  those 
Preserves ;  their  sole  and  arbitrary  king. 
Should  he  not  kill,  as  errt  the  Samian  sage 
Taught  unadvis'd,  and  Indian  brachmans  now 


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Jl3  ▼ainlf  pireadi ;  the  teeming  rttvenoos  brutes 
Migbt  fill  the  scanty  space  of  this  terrene. 
Encumbering  all  the  fdobe :  should  not  his  care 
Impro^  his  growing  stock,  their  kinds  might  fail, 
Man  might  once  more  on  roots  and  aooms  feed, 
And  through  the  deserts  range,  shiTering,  fbrlom. 
Quite  destitute  of  every  solace  dear. 
And  every  smiling  gaiety  of  life. 

The  prudent  huntsman  therefore  will  supply 
With  annual  targe  recruits  his  broken  pack, 
And  propagate  their  kind.    As  from  tiie  root 
Fresh  scions  still  spring  forth  and  daily  yield 
New  blooming  honours  to  the  parent-tree. 
Far  shall  his  paok  be  fam'd,  far  sought  his  breed, 
And  princes  at  their  tables  feast  those  hounds 
His  hand  presents,  an  acceptable  boon. 

Ere  yet  the  Sun  through  the  bright  Ram  has  urg'd 
Hb  steepy  course,  or  mother  Earth  unbound 
Her  frozen  bosom  to  the  Western  gale ; 
When  feather'd  troops,  their  social  leagues  dissoly'd, 
Select  their  mates,  and  on  the  leafless  elm 
The  noisy  rook  builds  high  her  wicker  nest, 
Jfark  well  the  wanton  females  of  thy  pack. 
That  curl  their  taper  tails,  and  frisking  court 
Their  pyebald  mates  enamour'd;  their  red  eyes 
Flash  fires  impure ;  nor  rest^  nor  food  they  take. 
Graded  by  furious  love.     In  seperate  cells 
Confine  them  now,  test  bloody  civil  wars 
Annoy  thy  peaceful  state.     If  left  at  large, 
The  growling  rivals  in  dread  battle  join. 
And  rude  encounter ;  on  Scaroander^s  streams 
Heroes  of  old  with  far  less  fiiry  fought 
For  the  bright  Spartan  dame,  their  valour's  prize. 
Mangled  and  torn  thy  fovourite  hounds  shall  lie, 
StretcbM  on  the  ground ;  thy  kennel  shall  appear 
A  field  of  blood :  like  some  unhappy  town 
hi  civil  broib  oonfus'd,  while  Discord  shakes 
Her  bloody  scourge  aloft,  fierce  parties  rage. 
Staining  their  impious  hands  in  mutual  death. 
And  still  the  best  beloved,  and  bravest  fa\\ : 
Such  are  the  dire  effects  of  lawless  love. 

Huntsman  !  these  ills  by  timely  prudent  care 
Prevent :  for  every  longing  dame  select 
Some  happy  paramour ;  to  him  alone 
hi  leagues  connubial  join.    Consider  well 
His  lineage;  what  his  fiithers  did  of  old. 
Chiefs  of  the  pack,  and  first  to  climb  the  rock. 
Or  plunge  into  the  deep,  or  tread  the  brake 
With  thorn  sharp-pointed,plash*d,and  briarsinwoven, 
Observe  with  care  his  shape,  sort,  colour,  size. 
Nor  will  sagacious  huntsmen  less  regard  ^ 

His  inward  habits:  the  vain  babbler  shun. 
Ever  loquacious,  ever  in  the  wrong. 
His  foolish  offspring  shall  ofiend  thy  ears 
With  false  alarms,  and  loud  impertinence. 
Nor  less  the  shifting  cur  avoid,  that  breaks 
Olasive  from  the  pack ;  to  the  next  hedge 
Devious  be  strays,  there  every  muse  he  tries : 
if  haply  then  he  cross  the  steaming  scent. 
Away  he  flies  vain-glorious ;  and  exults 
As  of  the  pack  supreme,  and  in  his  speed 
And  strength  unrivalPd.     Lo !  cast  for  behind 
His  vex*d  associates  pant,  and  labouring  strain 
To  climb  the  steep  ascent     Soon  as  they  reach 
Th'  insulting  boa^r,  his  felse  courage  fails. 
Behind  he  lags,  doomM  to  the  fatal  noose, 
His  master^s  hate,  and  scorn  of  all  the  field. 
What  can  from  such  be  hop*d,  but  a  base  brood 
Of  (toward  ours,  a  frantic,  vagrant  race  ? 


When  now  the  third  revolving  Moon  appears. 
With  sharpened  horns,  above  th^  horizon's  brink. 
Without  Lucina*s  aid,  expect  thy  hopes 
Are  amply  crown*d ;  short  pangs  produce  to  light 
The  smoking  litter ;  crawling  helpless,  blind. 
Nature  their  guide,  they  seek  the  poutmg  teat 
That  plenteous  streams.    Soon  as  the  tender  dam 
Has  form*d  them  with  her  tongue,  with  pleasure  view 
The  marks  of  their  renown'd  progenitors. 
Sure  pledge  of  triumphs  yet  to  come.     All  these 
Select  with  joy;  but  to  the  merciless  flood 
Expose  the  dwindling  refuse,  nor  overload 
Th*  indulgent  mother.     If  tliy  heart  relent. 
Unwilling  to  destroy,  a  nurse  provide. 
And  to  the  foster -parent  give  the  care 
Of  thy  superfluous  brood;  sheMl  cherish  kind 
The  aJien  offspring ;  pleas'd  thou  shalt  behold 
Her  tenderness,  and  hospitable  love. 

If  frolic  now  and  playful  they  desert 
Their  gloomy  cell,  and  on  the  verdant  turf. 
With  nerves  improv'd,  pursue  the  mimic  chase. 
Coursing  around;  unto  the  choicest  friends 
Commit  thy  valued  prze :  the  rustic  dames 
Shall  at  thy  kennel  wait,  and  m  their  laps 
Receive  tliy  growing  hopes,  with  many  a  kiss 
Caress,  and  dignify  their  little  charge 
With  some  gfeat  title,  and  resounding  nam^ 
Of  high  import.     But  cautious  here  obsen'e 
To  check  their  youthful  ardour,  nor  permit 
The  unexperienced  younker,  immature. 
Alone  to  range  the  woods,  or  haunt  the  brakes 
Where  dodging,  conies  sport ;  his  nerves  unstrung. 
And  strength  unequal ;  the  laborious  chase  , 
Shall  stint  his  growth,  and  bis  rash  forward  yoath 
Contract  suoh  vicious  habits,  as  thy  care 
And  late  correction  never  shall  reclaim. 

When  to  full  strength  arrived,  mature  and  bold^ 
Conduct  them  to  the  field  j  not  all  at  once. 
But  as  thy  cooler  prudence  shall  direct. 
Select  a  few,  and  form  them  by  degrees 
To  stricter  discipline.     With  these  consort 
The  stanch  and  steady  sages  of  thy  pack 
By  \Qn%  experience  vers'd  in  all  the  wiles. 
And  subtle  doublings  of  the  various  Chase. 
Easy  the  lesson  of  the  youthful  train 
When  instinct  prompts,  and  when  example  guides* 
If  the  too  forward  younker  at  the  head 
Press  boldly  on  in  wanton  sportive  mood. 
Correct  his  haste,  and  let  him  feel  abash'd 
The  ruling  whip.     But  if  he  stoop  behind 
In  wary  modest  guise,  to  his  own  nose 
Confiding  sure ;  give  him  full  scope  to  work 
His  winding  way,  an^l  with  thy  voice  applaud 
His  patience,  and  his  oare;  soon  shalt  thpu  view 
The  hopeful  pupil  leader  of  his  tribe. 
And  all  the  listening  pack  attend  his  call. 

Oft  lead  them  forth  where  wanton  lambkins  play^ 
And  bleating  dams  with  jealous  eyes  6bscrve 
Their  tender  care.     If  at  the  crowding  flock 
He  bay  presumptuous,  or  with  eager  haste 
Pursue  them  scatter'd  o  er  the  verdant  plain 
In  Lhe  foul  fact  attached,  to  the  strong  ram 
Tie  fast  the  rash  offender.    See  !  at  first 
His  hom'd  companion,  fearful  and  amaz'd. 
Shall  drae:  him  trembling  o'er  the  rugged  ground^  . 
Then,  witli  his  load  fatigu'd,  shall  turn  a-head. 
And  with  his  curl'd  hard  front  incessant  peal 
The  panting  wretch  ;  till,  breathless  and  astunn*d. 
Stretched  ou  the  turf  he  lie.    Then  spare  not  thou 


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The  twnuog  whip,  bat  ply  his  Ueeding  tides 
Lash  after  lash,  and  with  thy  threatening  votce, 
Harsb-echoiog  from  the  hills,  inculcate  loud 
His  vile  offence.    Sooner  shall  trembling  doves 
Escap'd  the  hawk's  sharp  talons,  in  mid  air. 
Assail  their  dangerous  foe,  than  he  once  more 
Disturb  the  peaceful  flocks.     In  tender  age 
Thus  youth  is  tram'd ;  as  curious  artists  bend 
The  taper  pliant  twig,  dt  potters  form 
Their  soft  and  ductile  clay  tb  various  shapes. 

Nor  is  't  enough  to  breed ;  but  to  preserve. 
Must  be  the  huntsman's  care.    The   stanch  did 

hounds, 
Guides  of  thy  pack,  though  but  in  number  few. 
Are  yet  of  great  account ;  shall  oft  untie 
The  Oordian  knot,  when  reason  at  a  stand 
Puzzling  is  lost,  and  all  thy  art  is  vain. 
O'er  clogging  fallows,  o'er  dry  plaster'd  roads 
O'er  fleated  meads,  o'er  plains  with  flocks  distain'd 
Rank  •scenting,  these  must  lead  the  dubious  way. 
As  party-chiefis  in  senates  who  preside. 
With  pleaded  reason  and  with  well-tum'd  speech. 
Conduct  the  staring  multitude ;  so  these 
Direct  the  pack,  who  with  joint  cry  approve, 
And  loudly  boost  discoveries  not  their  own, 

Unnamber'd  aiccidents,  and  various  ills, 
Attend  thy  pack,  hang  hovering  o'er  their  heads, 
And  point  the  way  that  leads  to  Death's  dark  cave.' 
Short  is  their  span;  few  at  the  date  arrive 
Of  ancient  Argus  in  old  Homer's  song 
So  highly  honour'd :  kind,  sagacious  brute  I 
Not  ev'n  Miuerva's  wisdom  could  conceal 
Thy  much-lov'd  master  from  thy  nicer  sense. 
Djnng  his  lord  he  own'd,  view'd  him  all  o'er 
With  eager  eyes,  then  clos'd  those  eyes,  well  pleas'd. 

Of  lesser  ills  the  Muse  declines  to  sing. 
Nor  stoops  so  low ;  of  these  each  groom  can  tell 
The  proper  remedy.     But  O  !  what  care. 
What  prudence,  can  prevent  madness,  the  worst 
Of  maladies  ?  Terrific  pest  I  that  blasts 
The  huntsman's  hopes,  and  desolation  spreads 
Through  all  th'  unpeopled  kennel  unrestrain'd, 
More  fata\  than  th'  envenom'd  viper's  bite; 
Or  that  Apulian  spider's  poisonous  sting, 
Heal'd  by  the  pleasing  antidote  of  sounds. 

When  Sinus  reigns,  and  the  Sun's  parching  beams 
Bake  the  dry  gaping  surface,  visit  thou 
Each  ev'n  and  mom,  with  quick  observant  eye. 
Thy  panting  pack.     If,  in  dark  sullen  mood. 
The  glouting  hound  refuse  his  wonted  meal, 
Retiring  to  some  close,  obscure  retreat. 
Gloomy,  disconsolate :  with  q[>eed  remove 
The  poor  infectious  wretch,  and  in  strong  chams 
Bind  hi.n  inspected.    Thus  that  dire  disease 
"UTiich  art  can't  cure,  wise  caution  may  prevent 

But,  this  neglected,  soon  expect  a  change, 
A  dismal  change,  coldfusion,  frenzy,  death. 
Or  in  some  dark  recess  the  sensel^  brute 
Sits  sadly  pining  ;j^eep  melancholy. 
And  black  despair,  npon  his  clouded  brow 
Hang  lowering ;  from  his  balf  opening  jaws 
The  clammy  venom,  and  infectious  firoth. 
Distilling  fall ;  and  from  his  lungs  inflam'd, 
Malignant  vapours  taint  the  ambient  air. 
Breathing  perdition :  his  dim  eyes  are  glaz*d, 
He  droops  his  pensive  head,  his  trembling  limbs 
No  more  support  his  weight;  abject  he  lies. 
Dumb,  spiritless,  benumb'd ;  till  Death  at  last 
Gracious  attends,  and  kindly  brings  relief. 


Or,  if  ontrageoui  gnMm,  hAM^  alts! 
A  yet  more  dreadful  scene ;  his  glarnsg  ey«^ 
Redden  with  fury,  like  some  angry  bow 
Churning  be  foams ;  and  on  his  ba^ k  erectf 
His  pointed  bristles  rise ;  his  tail  hicnrv'd 
He  drops,  and  with  harsh  broken  howlmgs  i 
The  poison-tainted  air ;  with  rough  hoarse  voice 
Incessant  bajrs,  and  snnflb  the  infectious  breese; 
This  way  and  that  he  stares  aghast,  and  starts. 
At  his  own  shade :  jealous,  as  if  he  deem'd 
The  worid  his  ibes.     If  haply  towards  the  stream 
He  cast  his  roving  eye,  cold  horrour  chills 
His  soul;  averse  he  flies,  trembling,  appaU'd. 
Now  frantic  to  the  kennel's  utmost  verge 
Raving  be  runs,  and  deals  destruction  round. 
The  pick  fly  diverse ;  for  whate'er  he  meets 
Vengeful  he  bites,  and  every  bite  is  death. 

If  now  perchance  through  the  weak  fence  esc^^ 
Far  up  the  wind  he  roves,  with  open  mouth 
Inhales  the  cooling  breeze;  nor  man,  nor  beast. 
He  spares  implac^le.    The  hunter-horBe, 
Once  kind  associate  of  his  sylvan  toils, 
(Who  haply  now  without  the  kennel's  mound 
Crops  the  rank  mead,  and  listening  hears  with  joy 
The  cheering  cry,  that  mom  and  eve  salutes 
His  raptur'd  sense)  a  wretched  victim  fells. 
Unhappy  quadruped  !  no  more,  alas ! 
Shall  thy  food  master  with  his  voice  applaud 
Thy  gentleness,  thy  speed ;  or  with  his  hand 
Stroke  thy  soft  dappled  sides,  as  he  each  day 
Visits  thy  stall,  well  pleas'd ;  no  more  shalt  tboa 
With  sprightly  neighings,  to  the  windmg  bora. 
And  the  loud  opening  pack  in  concert  join'd. 
Glad  his  proud  head.     For  oh !  the  secret  wound 
Rankling  inflame^  he  bites  the  ground,  and  dies ! 
Hence  to  the  village  with  pernicious  haste 
Baleful  he  bends  his  course :  the  village  flies 
Alarm'd ;  the  tender  mother  in  her  arms 
Hugs  close  the  trembling  babe ;  the  doors  are  barr'd^ 
And  flying  curs,  by  native  instinct  taught. 
Shun  the  contagious  bane ;  the  rustic  bands 
Hurry  to  arms,  the  mde  militia  seize 
Whate'er  at  hand  they  find^  clubs,  forks,  or  gunsy 
From  every  quarter  charge  the  furious  foie. 
In  wild  disorder,  and  uncouth  array : 
Till,  now  with  wounds  on  wounds  oppress'd  and  gor*d. 
At  one  short  poisonous  gasp  he  breathes  his  last. 

Hence  to  the  kennel,  Muse,  return,  and  view 
With  heavy  heart  that  hospital  of  woe ; 
Where  Horrour  stalks  at  large.!  insatiate  Death 
Sits  growlmg  o'er  his  prey:  each  hour  presents 
A  diflerent  scene  of  ruin  and  distress. 
How  busy  art  thou.  Fate !  and  how  severe 
Thy  pointed  wrath !  the  dying  and  the  dead 
Promiscuous  lie;  o'er  these  the  living  fight 
In  one  eternal  broil ;  not  conscious  why 
Nor  yet  with  whom.    So  dmnkards,  in  thenr  cups. 
Spare  not  their  friends,  while  senselc^  squidtble 
reigns. 

Huntsman !  it  much  behoves  thee  to  avoid 
The  perilous  debate !  Ah!  Touseupall 
Thy  vigilance,  aod  tread  the  treacherous  ground 
With  careful  step.    Tliy  fires  unquench'd  preserve. 
As  erst  the  vestal  flames;  the  pointed  steel 
In  the  hot  embers  hide ;  and  if  surpriz'd 
Thou  feelst  the  deadly  bite,  quick  urge  it  home 
Into  the  recent  sore,  and  cauterize 
The  wmmd ;  spare  not  thy  flesh,  nor  dread  th'  event : 
Vulcan  shall  save  when  JEsculapius  faille 


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THE  CHASE. 


1^9 


Be«e  thooldfliefaioirinf  MiisereeoiiiitthemeaiM 
To  stop  this  growing  plague.    And  here,  bias ! 
Each  band  praseots  a  sovereign  cure,  and  boasts 
In&lliMsty,  but  boasts  in  vain. 
On  tbis  depend,  each  to  bis  separate  seat 
Confine,  in  fetters  boond ;  give  each  his  mesi 
Apart,  his  range  in  open  air ;  and  then 
If  deadly  sTrnptoms  to  thy  grief  appear. 
Devote  the  wretch,  and  let  him  gi^itly  &11, 
A  generous  victiin  for  the  public  weal. 

Sng,  philoaophic  Hose,  the  dire  effects 
Of  this  contagious  bite  on  hapless  man. 
The  rustic  swains,  by  long  tradition  taught 
Of  leeches  old,  as  soon  as  they  perceive 
The  bite  impressed,  to  the  sea  coasts  repair. 
Phmg'd  in  the  briny  flood,  th'  unhappy  youth 
Now  joomeya  home  secure;  but  soon  shall  wish 
The  seas  as  yet  had  covert  him  beneath 
The  Ihaming  surge,  full  many  a  fiaithom  deep. 
A  £Kte  more  dismal,  and  superior  ills 
Hang  o*er  his  head  devoted.     When  the  Moon, 
Closing  her  monthly  round,  returns  again 
To  glad  the  night ;  or  when  full-orb'd  she  shines 
High  in  the  vault  of  Heaven ;  the  lurUng  pest 
B^m  the  dire  assault.    The  poisonous  ibam 
Through  the  deep  wound  instilled  with  hostile  rage. 
And  all  its  fiery  particles  saline, 
Invades  th' arterial  fluid :  whose  red  wdves 
Tempestuous  heave,  and,  their  cohesion  broke. 
Fermenting  boil ;  intestine  war  ensues. 
And  order  to  confusion  turns  embroiI*d. 
Now  the  distended  vessels  scarce  contain 
The  wild  uproar,  but  press  each  weaker  part 
Unable  to  resist:  the  tender  brain 
And  stomach  snffisr  most;  convulsions  shake 
Ifis  trembling  nerves,  and  wandering  pungent  pains 
Pinch  sore  the  sleepless  wretch ;  his  fluttering  pulse 
Oft  intermits ;  pensive,  and  sad,  he  mourns 
His  cruel  fiite,  and  to  hb  weephig  friends 
laments  in  vain ;  to  hasty  anger  prone, 
Besents  each  slight  offience,  walks  with  quick  step, 
And  wildly  stares ;  at  last  with  boundless  sway 
The  tyrant  frenzy  reigns :  for  as  the  dog 
(Whose  fetal  bite  convey'd  th»  infectious  bane) 
Baving  he  foams,  and  howls,  and  barks,  and  bites, 
Like  agitations  in  his  boiling  blood 
Present  like  species  to  his  troubled  mind; 
His  nature  and  his  actions  all  canine. 
So  (as  old  Homer  sung)  th*  associates  wild 
Of  wandering  Ithacus,  by  Circe's  charms 
To  swine  transform'd,  ran  grunting  thro*  the  groves, 
Dreadfel  example  to  a  wicked  world  ! 
See  there  distressed  he  lies  !  parch»d  up  with  thirst, 
Bot  dares  not  drink.    Till  now  at  last  his  soul 
Tkemblmg  escapes,  ber  noisome  dungeon  leaves^ 
And  to  some  purer  region  wings  away. 

One  labour  yet  remains,  celestial  Maid ! 
Another  element  demands  thy  song. 
No  more  o'er  craggy  steep,  through  coverts  thick 
With  pointed  thorn,  and  bijers  intricate, 
Urge  on  with  bom  and  voice  the  painful  pack : 
But  skim  with  wanton  wing  the  irriguous  vale, 
^^^tctt  winding  streams  amid  the  flowery  meads 
Perpetual  glide  along ;  and  undermine 
The  cavem'd  banks,  by  the  tenacious  roots 
W  hoary  willows  arch*d ;  gloomy  retreat 
W  the  bright  scaly  kind ;  where  they  at  will 
^  the  green  watery  reed  their  pa«rture  graze, 
^**ck  the  moist  soil,  or  slumber  at  their  ease. 


Rock*d  by  the  restless  brodk,  that  draws  aslope 
Its  humid  train,  and  laves  their  dark  abodes. 
Where  rages  not  Oppression }  Where,  alas ! 
Is  Innocence  secure  ?  Rapine  and  Spoil 
Haunt  ev>i  the  lowest  deeps ;  seas  have  their  sharks. 
Rivers  and  ponds  enclose  the  ravenous  pike; 
He  in  his  turn  becomes  a  prey;  on  him 
Th'  amphibious  otter  feasts.    Just  is  his  fete 
Deserved :  but  tyrants  know  no  bounds ;  nor  spearr 
That  bristle  on  his  back,  defend  the  perch 
From  his  wide  greedy  jaws;  norbumish'd  mail 
The  yellow  carp ;  nor  all  his  arts  can  save 
Til*  insinuating  eel,  that  hides  his  head 
Beneath  the  sUmy  mud ;  nor  yet  escapes 
The  crimson-spotted  trout,  the  river's  pride. 
And  besuty  of  the  stream.     Without  remorse, 
This  midnight  pillager,  ranging  around. 
Insatiate  swallows  alL    The  owner  mourns 
Th*  unpeopled  rivulet,  and  gladly  hears 
The  huntsman's  early  call,  and  sees  with  joy 
The  jovial  crew,  that  march  upon  its  banks 
In  gay  parade,  with  bearded  bmces  arm'd. 

The  subtle  spoiler,  of  the  beaver  kind. 
Far  off  perhaps,  where  ancient  alders  shade 
The  deep  still  pool,  within  some  hollow  trunk 
Contrives  his  wicker  couch :  whenbe  he  surveyt 
His  long  purlieu,  lord  of  the  stream,  and  all 
The  finny  shoals  his  own.    But  3rou,  brave  youdis. 
Dispute  the  felon's  claim ;  try  every  root. 
And  every  reedy  bank ;  encourage  all 
The  busy  spreading  pack,  that  fearless  plunge 
Into  the  flood,  and  cross  the  rapid  stream. 
Bid  rocks  and  caves,  and  each  resounding  shore. 
Proclaim  your  bold  defiance ;  loudly  raise 
Each  cheering  voice,  till  distant  hills  repeat 
The  triumphs  of  the  vale.     On  the  soft  sand 
See  there  his  seal  impressed  !  and  on  that  bank 
Behold  the  glittering  spoils,  half  eaten  fish. 
Scales,  fins,  and  bones,  the  leavings  of  his  feast 
Ah  !  on  that  yielding  sag-bed,  see,  once  more 
His  seal  I  view.    0*er  yon  dank  rushy  marsh 
The  sly  goose-footed  prowler  bends  his  course, 
And  seeks  the  distant  shallows.    Huntsman,  bring 
Thy  eager  pack,  and  trail  him  to  his  couch. 
Hark !  the  loud  peal  begins,  the  clamorous  joy. 
The  gallant  chiding,  loads  the  trembling  air. 

Ye  Naiads  feir,  who  o'er  these  floods  preside. 
Raise  up  your  dripping  heads  above  the  wave. 
And  bear  our  melody.    Th*  harmonious  notes 
Float  with  the  stream ;  and  every  winding  creek 
And  hollow  rock,  that  o'er  the  dimpling  flood 
Nods  pendant,  still  improve  from  shore  to  shore 
Our  sweet  reiterated  pys.    What  shouts  !    [sounds 
What  clamour   loud!    What  gay  heart-cheering 
Urge  through  the  breathing  t^ass  their  mazy  way ! 
Nor  quires  of  TYitons  glad  with  sprightlier  strains 
The  dancing  billows,  when  proud  Neptune  rides 
In  triumph  o*cr  the  deep.    How  greedily 
They  snuff  the  fishy  steam,  that  to  each  blade 
Rank-scenting  clinch  !  See  !  how  the  morning  dews 
They  sweep,  that  from  their  feet  besprinkling  drop 
Dispers'd,  and  leave  a  track  oblique  behind. 
Now  on  firm  land  they  range ;  then  in  the  flood 
They  plunge  tumultuous ;  or  through  reedy  pools 
Rustling  they  work  their  way :  no  hole  escapes 
Their  curious  search.     With  quick  sensation  now 
The  fumin*  vapour  stings ;  flutter  their  hearts, 
And  joy  redoubled  bursts  from  every  mouth 
In  louder  symphonies.     Yon  hollow  trunk. 


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170 


SOMERYILE'S  POEMS. 


Tbat  with  iti  hoary  head  inctirvM  salutes 

The  pasMDg  wave,  must  be  the  tyrant's  fort. 

And  dread  abode.     How  these  impatient  climb, 

While  others  at  the  root  in<;essant  bay  ! 

Tbey  put  him  down.     See,  there  he  drires  along ! 

Th*  ascending  bubbles  mark  his  gloom^  way. 

Quick  tix  the  nets,  and  cut  otf  his  retreat 

Into  the  siieitering  deeps.     Ah !  there  he  vents  ! 

The  pack  plunge  headlong,  and  protended  spears 

Menace  destruction :  while  the  troubled  surge 

Indignant  foams,  and  all  the  scaly  kind, 

Aftrighted,  hide  their  heads.     Wild  tumult  reigns, 

And  loud  upn)ar.     Ah,  there  once  more  he  vents  ! 

See,  that  bold  hound  has  seized  him  !  down  they  sink 

Together  lost :  but  soon  shall  he  repent 

His  rash  assault.     See,  there  escap'd,  be  flies 

Half-drown'd,  and  clambers,  up  the  slippery  bank 

"With  ouze  and  blood  distain'd.     Of  all  the  brutes, 

Whether  by  Nature  fbnn*d,  or  by  long  use. 

Tills  artful  diver  best  can  bear  the  want 

Of  vital  air.     Unequal  is  the  fight. 

Beneath  the  whelming  element     Yet  there 

He  lives  not  long  ;  but  respiration  needs 

At  proper  intervals.     Again  he  vents  ; 

Again  the  crowd  attack.     That  spear  has  piercM 

Bis  neck  ^  the  crimson  waves  confess  tlie  wound. 

FixM  is  the  bearded  lance,  unwelcome  guest. 

Where'er  he  flies ;  with  him  it  sinks  beneath. 

With  him  it  mounts  ;  sure  guide  to  every  fbew 

Inly  he  groans;  nor  can  his  tender  wound 

Bear  the  cold  stream.     Lo  !  to  yon  sedgy  bank 

Be  creeps  disconsolate :  his  numerous  foes 

Surround  him,  bounds,  and  men.   Pierc'd  thro'  and 

tliro'. 
Or  pointed  spears  they  lift  him  high  in  air  ; 
Wr^ing  he  hangs,  and  grins,  and  bites  in  vain  : 
Bid  the  loud  horns,  in  gayly-n^uhling  strains. 
Proclaim  the  felon's  fate ;  he  dies,  he  dies. 

Rejoice,  ye  scaly  tribes,  and  leaping  dance 
ATxwe  the  wave,  in  sign  of  liberty 
Kestor'd  ;  the  cruel  tyrant  is  no  more. 
Kejoice  secure  and  bless'd ;  did  not  as  yet 
Bcmain,  some  of  your  own  rapacious  kind ; 
And  man,  fierce  man,  with  all  his  various  wiles. 
'  O  happy  !  if  ye  knew  your  happy  state, 
To  rangers  of  the  fields;  whom  Nature  boon 
Cheers  with  her  smiles,  and  every  element 
Conspires  to  bless.     What,  if  no  heroes  frown    - 
From  marble  pedestals  ;  nor  Raphael's  works, 
Kor  Titian's  lively  tints,  adorn  our  walls  ? 
Yet  these  the  meanest  of  us  may  behold  ; 
And  at  another's  cost  may  feast  at  will 
Our  wondering  eyes  ;  what  can  the  owner  more  ? 
But  vain,  alas  \  is  wealth,  notgrac'd  with  power. 
The -flowery  landscape,  and  the  gilded  dome. 
And  vistas  opening  to  the  wearied  eye, 


Through  all  his  wide  domain ;  the  planted  gnfte^ 
The  shrubby  wilderness,  with  its  gay  choir 
Of  warbling  birds,  can't  lull  to  soft  repose 
Th'  ambitious  wretch,  whose  discontented  9oal 
U  harrow'd  day  and  night ;  he  mourns,  he  pineSy 
Until  his  prince's  fieivour  makes  him-great. 
See,  there  he  comes,  th'  exalted  idol  comes  ! 
The  circle  's  fbrm'd,  and  all  his  &wning  slaves 
Devoutly  bow  to  earth ;  fipom  every  moutli 
The  nauseous  flattery  flows,  which  he  retiinis 
With  promises,  that  die  as  soon  as  bom. 
Vile  intercourse  !  where  virtue  has  no  placse. 
Frown  but  the  monarch  ;  all  his  glories  fade  ; 
He  mingles  with  the  throng,  outcast,  undooe. 
The  pageant  of  a  day  ;  without  one  friend 
To  soothe  his  tortur'd  mind  ;  all,  all  are  fled. 
For,  though  they  bask'd  in  his  meridian  ray. 
The  insects  vanish,  as  his  beams  Recline. 

Not  such  our  friends;  for  here  no  dark  design. 
No  wicked  iaterest,  bribes  the  venal  heart ; 
But  inclination  to  our  bosom  leads. 
And  weds  them  there  for  life  ;  our  social  cups 
Smile,  as  we  smile;  open,  and  unreserv'd. 
We  speak  our  inmost  souls  ;  good-humonr,  nxirlfay 
Soft  complaisance,  and  wit  from  malice  free. 
Smooth  every  brow,  and  glow  on  every  cheek. 

O  happiness  sincere  \  what  wretch  would  gpnoan 
Beneath  the  galling  load  of  power,  or  walk 
Upon  the  slippery  pavements  of  the  great. 
Who  thus  could  reign,  unenvyM  and  secure  ? 

Ye  guardian  powers  who  msdce  mankind  your  care* 
Give  me  to  know  wise  Nature's  hidden  deaths 
Trace  each  mysterous  cause,  with  judgment  read 
Th'  expanded  volume,  and  submiss  adore 
That  great  creative  Will,  who  at  a  word 
Spoke  forth  the  wondrous  scene.     But  if  my  loal 
To  this  gross  clay  confin'd  flutters  on  Earth 
W*^ith  less  ambitious  wing  ;  unskill'd  to  range 
From  orb  to  orb,  where  Newton  leads  the  way  ; 
And  view  with  piercing  eyes  the  grand  machine. 
Worlds  above  worlds ;  subservient  to  his  voice. 
Who,  veil'd  in  clouded  majesty,  alone 
Gives  light  to  all ;  bids  the  great  system  move. 
And  changeful  seasons, in  their  tuntf  advance, 
UnmovM,  uncbaUf^'d,  himself:  yet  this  at  least 
Grant  me  propitious,  an  inglorious  life, 
Calm  aud  serene,  nor  lost  in  false  pursuite 
Of  mealth  ur  honours  ;  but  enough  to  raise 
My  drooping  friends,  preventing  modert  Want 
That  dares  not  s-tk.     And  if,  to  c-rown  ray  joys. 
Ye  grant  me  health,  that,  ruddy  in  my  cheeks, 
Blooms  in  my   life's  decline;    fields,  woods,  and 

streauis, 
Fach  towering  hill,  each  humble  vale  below. 
Shall  hear  my  chearing  voice,  my  hounds  shall  wake 
The  lazy  Mom,  and  glad  th'  horizon  round. 


I 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


HOBBINOLi  OE  THE  RURAL  GAMES. 


A  BURLESaUE  POEM. 


IN  BLANK  VERSE. 


Nec  nun  animi  dubius,  veibit  ea  vinoere  *wg""Pi 
Qahm  nt,  et  anguitii  hone  ad^eie  rebus  booorenu 
Sed  me  Parnassi  deserta  per  ardua  diUcii 
Baptat  Anior.    Juvat  ire  jugis,  qu^  nulla  priomm 
Ciilaitam  molli  diverUtur  orbita  dbo. 

Vurg.  Georg.  10k  i 


TO 

MR.  HOGARTH. 


Permit  me,  sir,  to  make  choice  of  you  for  my  patron,  being  the  greatest 
master  in  the  burlesque  way.  In  this  indeed  you  have  some  advantage  of 
your  poetical  brethren,  that  you  paint  to  the  eye ;  yet  remember,  sir,  that 
we  give  speech  and  motion,  and  a  greater  variety  to  our  figures.  Your 
province  is  the  town  ;  leave  me  a  small  outride  in  the  country,  and  I  shall 
be  content.  In  this,  at  least,  let  us  both  agree,  to  make  vice  and  folly  the 
object  of  our  ridicule ;  aud  we  cannot  fail  to  be  of  some  service  to  man* 
kind.    I  am^ 

sir, 

your  admirer,  and 

most  humble  servant, 

W.S. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


17«  SOMERVILE-S  POEMS. 


PREFACE. 


"^OTHING  is  more  common  than  for  xa  poor  bards,  when  we  hate  aoqoired  a  little  lepntation,  !• 
^^  print  ourselves  into  di^^race.  We  climb  the  Aoman  moant  with  difficnlty  and  toil ;  we  receive 
the  bays  fiMP  which  we  languished  J  tiU,  grasping  still  at  more,  we  lose  oor  hold,  and  fiOl  at  oooe  to  the 
bottom. 

The  author  of  this  piece  would  not  thus  he/eh  de  te,  nor  would  he  be  murdered  by  penons  im- 
known.  But  as  he  is  satisfied,  that  there  are  many  haperfect  copies  of  this  trifle  dispersed  abroad,  and 
as  he  is  credibly  informed,  that  he  shall  soon  be  exposed  to  view  in  such  an  attitude,  as  he  woold  not 
care  to  appear  in ;  he  thhiks  it  most  prudent  in  this  desperate  case  to  throw  himself  on  the  mercy  of  the 
public,  and  offer  this  whimsical  work  a  voluntary  sacrifice,  in  hope  that  he  stands  a  better  chance  fi>r 
their  indulgence,  now  it  has  received  hit  last  hand,  than  when  curtailed  and  mangled  by  othen. 

The  poets  of  almost  all  nations  have  oelebrsited  the  games  of  their  several  countries.  Homer  began, 
and  all  the  mimic  tribe  followed  the  example  of  that  great  &ther  of  poetry.  Even  our  own  Milton, 
who  laid  his  scene  beyond  the  limits  of  tlite  snblnnary  world,  has  found  room  for  descriptions  of  this  sort, 
and  has  performed  it  in  a  more  sublime  manner  than  tsof  who  went  before  him.  His,  indeed,  are 
sports ;  but  they  are  the  sports  ef  angels.  This  genUeman  has  endeavoured  to  do  justice  to  his 
countrjrmen,  the  British  freeholders,  who,  when  dressed  in  their  holiday  clothes,  are  by  no  means 
persons  of  a  despicable  figure ;  but  eat  and  drink  as  plentifully,  and  fight  as  heartily,  as  the  greatest 
hero  in  the  Iliad.  There  is  also  some  use  in  descriptions  of  this  nature,  since  nothing  gives  us  a 
clearer  idea  of  the  genius  t>f  a  nation,  than  their  sports  and  diversions.  If  we  see  people  dancmg,  even 
in  wooden  shoes,  and  a  fiddle  always  at  their  heels,  we  are  Soon  convinced  of  the  levity  and  volatile 
spirit  of  those  merry  slaves.  The  famous  bull-feasts  are  an  evident  token  of  the  Quixotism  and  romantic 
taste  of  the  Spaniards.  And  a  country-wake  is  too  sad  an  image  of  the  hifirmities  of  our  own  pegple : 
we  see  nothing  but  broken  heads,  botties  flying  about,  tables  overturned,  outrageous  drunkenness, 
and  eternal  squabble. 

Thus  much  of  the  subject;  itnuTynotbe  improper  to  touch  a  little  upon  the  style.  One  of  tiie  greatest 
poets  and  most  candid  critics  of  this  age  has  informed  us,  thatthereare  two  sorts  of  burlesque.  Be  pleased 
to  take  it  in  his  own  words,  Spectatfnr,  Numb.  242.  "  Burlesque  (says  he)  is  of  two  kinds.  The  first 
represents  mean  persons  in  the  accoutrements  of  heroes ;  the  other,  great  persons  acting  and  speak- 
ing like  the  basest  among  the  people.  Don  Quixote  is  an  instance  of  the  fiirst,  and  Luciaa's  gods  of  the 
fecond.  It  is  a  dispute  among  the  critics,  whether  buiksque  rank  best  in  heroic,  like  the  Dispetvaiy; 
or^  in  doggrel,  like  that  of  Hudibras.  I  think,  where  the  low  character  is  to  be  raised,  the  heroic  is 
the  most  proper  measure ;  but  when  an  h<^rO  is  to  be  pulled  down  and  degraded,  it  is  best  done  in 
doggreL*'  Thus  fkr  Mr.  Addison.  If  therefore  the  heroic  is  the  proper  measure  where  the  bw  cha- 
racter is  to  be  raised,  Milton's  style  must  be  very  proper  in  the  subject  here  treated  of;  becaniB 
it  raises  the  low  character  more  than  is  possible  to  be  done  under  the  restraint  of  ihyme;  and  the  ri- 
dicule chiefly  consisU  in  raising  tlu4  low  character.  I  beg  leave  to  refer  to  the  authority  of  Mr.  Smith, 
in  his  poem  lipon  the  death  of  Mr.  John  Philips.  The  whole  passage  is  so  very  fine,  and  gives  sodear 
an  idea  pf  his  manner  of  writing,  Oat  the  reader  win  not  thmk  his  labour  loet  m  running  it  over. 

But  here  it  may  be  objected,  that  this  manner  of  writing  contradicts  the  rule  m  Hotaoe : 
Versibus  expcm  tragicis  res  oomica  non  vult 
Monneur  Boileau,  in  his  dissertation  upon  the  Jooonde  of  de  la  Fontaine,  quotes  this  passage  in  Ho- 
race, and  obser^'es.  Que  comme  il  n*y  a  rien  de  plus  froid,  que  de  center  une  chose  grande  en  stile 
has,  aussi  n'y  a-t-il  de  plus  ridicule,  que  de-raconter  une  histoire  comique  et  absuide  en  termes  graves 
et  serieux.  But  then  he  justiy  adds  this  exception  to  the  general  rule  in  Horace ;  k  moins  que  ca 
serieux  ne  soit  affsctft  tont  exprte  pour  rendre  la  chtae  encore  plus  burlesque.  If  the  observation 
of  that  celebrated  critic.  Monsieur  Dacier^  is  true^  Horace  himielf,  in  the  same  ^istletothePkoi^aiid 


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PREFACE  TO  HOBBINOL.  ITS 

not  far  distant  from  the  rale  here  mentioiied,  haft  aimed  to  improre  the  burlesque  by  the  help  of  the 
ndiliiiie^  in  his  note  upon  this  verse : 

DebemurmortiiioeDOttmque;  sivereceptua 
Terr4  Neptunus— 
And  xxpaa  the  five  following  verses  has  this  general  remark:  Toutcs  ccs  expressions  nobles  qn'  Horace 
mw^m^  dans  ees  six  vers  servent  a  rendre  plus  plaisante  cette  chute : 
Ke  dum  verbornm  stet  honos.-^-^ 
C^  rien  ne  oontribue  tant  au  ridieuU  que  le  gr^^^    He  indeed  would  be  severe  upon  himself  alone, 
«1»  should  censure  this  way  of  writing,  when  he  must  plainly  see,  that  it  is  affected  on  purpose,  only 
to  raise  the  ridicule,  and  give  the  reader  a  more  agreeaUe  entertainment    Nothing  can  improve  a 
merry  *tale  so  much,  as  its  being  delivered  with  a  grave  and  serious  air.    Our  miaginations  are 
^neably  surprised,  and  food  of  a  pleasure  so  little  expected.      Whereas  he,  who  would  bespeak  our 
Uu^iter  by  an  alBMted  grimace  and  ridiculoos  gestures,  must  play  his  part  very  well  indeed,  or  he  will 
Ian  short  of  the  idea  he  has  raised^    It  is  trne,  Virgil  was  very  sensible  that  it  was  difficult  thus  to 
derate  a  low  and  mean  sulject : 

Nee  sum  animi  dulnns,  verbis  ea  vinoere  magnum 
Quam  sit,  et  anguslis  huno  addere  rebus  honoiem. 
But  tells  us  fiv  oov  eneonragement  in  another  plaoe, 

lu  tenui  labor,  at  tenuis  non  gloria,  si  quern 
Numiua  lava  sinunt,  auditque  vocatns  Apollo. 
Ifr.  Addisoa  ts  of  the  same  opinion,  and  adds,  that  the  difficulty  is  very  much  increased  by  writing  In 
i^ynV  verse.  "  The  English  and  French  (says  be)  who  always  use  the  same  words  m  verse  as  in  ordi- 
any  conversation,  are  fofced  to  rake  their  language  with  metaphors  and  figures,  or  by  the  pompousnesa 
of  the  whole  phrase  to  wear  offany  littleness,  that  iqppears  in  the  particular  parts  that  compose  it 
This  makes  our  blank  verse,  where  there  b  no  rhyme  to  support  the  expression,  extremely  difficult 
tosnchasarenotmastenof  the  tongue;  especially  when  they  write  upon  low  nttjects.*'  Remarks 
upon  Italy  p.  99*  But  there  is  even  yet  a  greater  difficulty  bdiind :  the  writer  in  this  kind  of  bur- 
lescnie  must  not  only  keep  np  the  pomp  and  dignity  of  the  style,  but  an  artful  sneer -should  appear 
through  the  whole  work;  and  every  man  wiU  judge,  that  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  blend  together  the  hero 
and  the  harlequin. 

If  aoy  person  should  want  a  key  to  this  poem,  his  curionty  shall  be  gratified :  I  shall,  in  pla'm  words, 
Idl  him,  "  It  is  a  satire^  agamst  the  homry,  the  pride,  the  wantonness,  and  quarrelsome  temper,  of 
the  nnddlmg  sort  of  people."  As  these  are  the  proper  and  genuine  cause  of  that  bare-faced  kna- 
very, and  almost  universal  poverty,  which  reign  without  control  m  every  place ;  and  as  to  these 
W9  ove  oor  many  bankrupt  iarmers,  our  trade  decayed,  and  lands  uncultivated ;  the  author  has 
ftason  to  hope,  that  no  honest  man,  who  loves  his  country, .will  thmk  this  short  reproof  out  of  season: 
for,  peihape,  this  merry  way  of  bantering  men  hito  virtue  may  have  a  better  effect  than  the  most  sen- 
ma  admonitiaiM  i  since  many,  who  are  praiud  to  be  thou^t  immoral,  are  not  very  fond  of  bein^ 
rificuloaa. 


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174 


SOMERVILE*S  POEMS. 


HOBBINOL. 


CANTO  L 

THB   ARGUMENT. 

Proposition.     Invocation  addressed  to  Mr.   John 
Phillips,  author  of  the  Cider  Poem  and  Splendid 
Shilling.     Description  of  the  Vale  of  Eveshaift. 
The  seat  of  Hobbinol ;  Hobbinol  a  great  man  in 
his  village,  seated  in  his  wicker  smoking  his  pipe, 
has  one  only  son.     Young  HobbinoPs  education, 
bred  upxrith  Ganderetta  his  near  relation.  Young 
Hobbinol  and  Ganderetta  chosen  king  and  queen 
of  May.     Her  dress  and  attendants.     The  May- 
games.     TWangdillo  the  fiddler,  his   character. 
The  dancing.     Ganderetta's  extraordinary  per- 
formance.    Bagpipes  good  music  in  the  Highlands. 
Milonides,  master  of  the  ring,  disciplines  the 
mob;  proclaims  the  several  prizes.     His  speech. 
Pastorel  takes  up  the  belt     His  character,  his 
heroic  figure,  his  confidence.     Hobbinol,  by  per- 
mission of  Ganderetta,   accepts   the  challenge, 
vaults  into  the  ring.     His  honourable  beha^nour 
escapes  a  scowering.    Ganderetta*s  agony.    Pas 
torel  foiled.    Ganderetta  not  a  little  pleased. 

What  old  Menalces  at  bis  feast  reveaVd 
I  sing,  strange  feats  of  ancient  prowess,  deeds. 
Of  high  renown,  while  all  his  listening  guests 
With  eager  joy  received  the  pleasing  tale. 

O  thou  1  !  who  late  on  Vaga*s  flowerv  banks 
Slumbering  secure,  with  Stirom  »  well  bcdew»d. 
Fallacious  cask,  in  sacred  dreams  were  taught 
By  antient  seers,  and  Merlin  prophet  old, 
To  raise  ignoble  themes  with  strains  sublime. 
Be  thou  my  guide ;  while  I  thy  track  pursue 
With  wing  unequal,  through  the  wide  expanse 
Adventurous  range,  and  emulate  thy  flights. . 

In  that  rich  vale  3  where  with  Dobunian  <  fields 
0)mavian  *  borders  meet,  fisir  fem'd  of  old 
For  Montfort's  6  hapless  fate,  undaunted  carl; 
Where  from  her  fruitful  um  Avona  pours 
Her  kindly  torrent  on  the  thirsty  glebe. 
And  pillages  the  hills  t'enrich  the  plains ; 
On  whose  luxuriant  banks  flowers  of  all  hues 
Start  up  spontaneous ;  and  the  teeming  soil 
With  hasty  shoots  prevents  its  owner's  prayer: 
The  pampered  wanton  steer,  of  the  sharp  axe 
Regardless,  that  o'er  his  devoted  head 
Hangs  menacing,  crc^  his  del  cious  bane. 
Nor  knows  the  price  is  life ;  with  envious  eye 
His  labouring  yoke-fellow  beholds  his  plight. 
And  deems  him  blest,  while  on  his  languid  neck 
In  solemn  sloth  he  tugs  the  lingering  plough. 
So  blind  are  mortals,  of  each  other's  state 
Mis-judging,  self-deceiv*d.    Here,  as  supreme. 
Stem  hobbinol  in  rural  plenty  reigns 
O'er  wide-extended  fields,  his  large  domam. 


»  Mr.  John  Philips.  «  Strong  Herefordshire  cider. 
3  Vale  of  Evesham.        <  Gloucestershire. 
*  Worcestershire.  ^         [ham. 

6  Simon  de  Moatfort,  killed  at  the  battle  of  Eves 


Th'  obsequious  villagm,  with  looks  b«u« 
Observant  of  his  eye,  or  when  with  seed 
T  impregnate  Earth's  fet  womb,  or  when  to  brine 
Witii  clamorous  joy  the  beanled  harvest  home. 

Here,  when  the  distant  Sun  lengthens  the  n^fata. 
When  the  keen  frosts  the  shivering  farmer  warn 
To  broach  his  mellow  cask,  and  frequent  blasts 
Instruct  the  crackling  billets  how  to  blaze. 
In  his  warm  wicker-chair,  whose  pliant  tirigi 
In  close  embraces  join'd,  with  spacious  arch 
Vault  his  thick-woven  roof,  the  bloated  churl 
Loiters  in  state,  each  arm  reclin'd  is  prop'd 
With  yielding  pillows  of  the  softest  down. 
In  mind  composed,  from  short  coeval  tube 
He  sucks  the  vapours  bland,  thick  curling  ckradr 
Of  smoke  around  his  reeking  temples  play  ; 
Joyous  he  sits,  and,  impotent  of  thought, 
PuflQj  away  care  and  sorrow  from  his  heart. 
How  vain  the  pomp  of  kings  •  Look  down,  ye  great» 
And  view  with  envious  eye  the  downy  nest, 
\Vhere  soft  Repose,  and  calm  Contentment  dwell, 
Unbnb'd  by  wealth,  and  unrestrain'd  by  power. 

One  son  alone  had  blest  his  bridal  bed. 
Whom  good  Calista  bore,  nor  long  survived 
To  share  a  mother's  joy,  but  left  the  babe 
To  his  paternal  care.     An  orphan  niece 
Near  the  same  time  his  dying  brother  sent. 
To  claim  his  kind  support     The  helpless  pdr 
In  the  same  cradle  slept,  nurs'd  up  with  cai« 
By  the  same  tender  hand,  on  the  same  breasts 
Alternate  hung  with  joy ;  till  reason  dawn'd. 
And  a  new  light  broke  out  by  slow  degrees : 
Then  on  the  floor  the  pretty  wantons  play'd. 
Gladding  the  farmer's  heart  with  growing  hopes. 
And  pleasures  erst  unfelt.    Whene'er  with  cares 
Oppress'd,  when  wearied,  or  alone  he  doz'd. 
Their  harmless  prattle  sooth'd  his  troubled  souL 
Say,  Hobbinol,  what  extasies  of  joy 
ThrilPd  through  thy  veins,  when,  climbiBg  for  a  ki«. 
With  little  palms  they  strok'd  thy  grizly  beani. 
Or  round  thy  wicker  whiri'd  their  rattling  care  ? 
Thus  from  their  eariiest  days  bred  up,  and  train'd. 
To  mutual  fondness,  with  their  stature  ?rew 
The  thriving  passion.     What  love  can  decay 
That  roots  so  deep  !  Now  ripening  manhood  curPd 
On  the  gay  stripling's  chin ;  her  panting  breasts. 
And  trembling  blushes  glowing  on  her  cheeks. 
Her  secret  wish  betray'd.     She  at  each  mart 
All  eyes  attracted  j  but  her  faithful  shade. 
Young  Hobbinol,  ne'er  wander'd.  from  lier  side.' 
A  frown  from  him  dash'd  every  rival's  hopes. 
For  he,  like  Peleus'  son,  was  prone  to  rage. 
Inexorable,  swift  like  him  of  foot 
With  ease  could  overtake  his  dastaid  foe, 
Norspar'dthesuppliantwretch.  Andnowappitmch'd 
Those  merry  days,  when  all  the  nymphs  and  swains 
In  solemn  festivals  and  rural  sports. 
Pay  their  glad  homage  to  the  blooming  Spring.  J 
Young  Hobbinol  by  joint  consent  is  rais'd         / 
T'  imperial  dignity,  and  in  his  hand  ^ 

Bright  Ganderetta  tripped  the  jovial  queen 
Of  Maia's  gaudy  month,  profuse  of  flowers* 


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HOBBINOL. 


175 


From  each  enameli'df  mead  th'  attendant  nymphs, 
Losded  with  odorous  spoils,  from  these  select 
Each  flower  of  gorgeous  dye,  and  garlands  weave 
Of  party-colo«r*d  sweets;  each  busy  hand 
Adorns  the  jocund  queen :  in  her  loose  hair. 
That  to  the  winds  in  wanton  ringlets  plays, 
The  tailed  Cowslips  breathe  their  foint  perfumes. 
On  her  refulgent  brow,  as  crystal  clear, 
As  Parian  marble  smooth.  Narcissus  hangs 
His  drooping  head,  and  views  his  image  there, 
Unhappy  flower  !  Pansies  of  various  hue. 
Iris,  and  Hyacinth,  and  Asphodel, 
To  deck  the  nymph,  their  richest  liveries  wear. 
And  lavishM  all  their  pride.     Not  Florals  self 
More  lovely  smiles,  when  to  the  dawning  year 
Her  opening  boeom  heavenly  fragrance  breathes. 
See  on  yon  verdant  lawn,  the  gathering  crowd 
Thickens  amain ;  the  buxom  nymphs  advance 
Ushered  by  jolly  clowns  :  distinctions  cease,  ' 
Lost  in  the  common  joy,  and  the  bold  slave 
Leans  on  his  wealthy  master,  unreprovM : 
The  sick  no  pains  can  feel,  no  wants  the  poor. 
Bound  his  (bnd  mother's  neck  the  smiling  babe 
Exulting  clings ;    hard  by,  de<Jrepit  age, 
Prop'd  on  his  staff,  with  anxious  thought  revolves 
His  pleasures  past,  and  casts  his  grave  remarks 
Among  the  heedless  throng.     The  vigorous  youth 
Strips  for  the  combat,  hopeful  to  subdue 
The  fair-one's  long  disdain,  by  valour  now 
Glad  to  convince  her  coy  erroneous  heart. 
And  prove  his  merit  equal  to  her  charms. 
SqU  pity  pleads  his  cause ;  blushing  she  views 
His  brawny  limi>s,  and  his  undaunted  eye. 
That  looks  a  proud  defiance  on  his  foes, 
Keaolv'd  and  obstinately  firm  he  stands ; 
Dtanger  nor  death  he  fears,  while  the  rich  prize 
Is  victory  and  love.     On  the  large  bough 
Of  a  thick-spreading  elm  Twangdillo  sits : 
One  leg  on  Ister's  banks  the  hardy  swain 
Left  uodismay'd,  Bellona's  lightnmg  scorch'd 
His  manly  visage,  but  in  pity  left 
One  eye  secure.     He  many  a  painful  bruise 
Intrepid  felt,  and  many  a  gaping  wound. 
For  brown  Kate's  sake,  and  for  his  country's  weal : 
Yet  still  the  meny  bard  without  rogret 
Bears  his  own  ills,  and  with  his  sounding  shell. 
And  comic  ph3rz,  relie\-es  his  drooping  friends. 
Htrk,  from  aloft  his  tortur'd  cat-gut  squeals, 
He  tickles  every  string,  to  every  note 
He  bends  his  pliant  neck,  his  single  eye 
Tvinkles  with  joy,  his  active  stump  beats  time : 
Let  but  this  subtle  artist  softly  touch 
The  trembling  chords,  the  fieiint  expiring  swain 
Trembles  no  less,  and  the  fond  yielding  maid 
It  tweedled  into  love.     See  with  what  pomp 
The  gaudy  bands  advance  in  trim  array  ! 
I^J^  beats  in  every  vein,  from  every  eye 
I>arts  his  contagious  fiames.     They  frisk,  they  bound 
Now  to  brisk  airs,  and  to  the  speaking  strings : 
Attentive,  in  mid-way  the  sexes  meet ; 
Joyous  their  adverse  fronts  they  close,  and  press 
To  strict  embrace,  as  resolute  to  force 
And  storm  a  passage  to  each  other's  heart : 
Till  by  the  varying  notes  forewarned  back  they 
^«coil  disparted  :  each  with  longing  eyes 
'*««ues  his  mate  retiring,  till  again 
1^  blended  sexes  mbc ;  then  hand  in  hand 
Past  lock'd,  around  they  fly,  or  nimbly  wheel 
h  mazes  intricate.    The  jocund  troop. 


Pleas'd  with  their  grateful  toil,  incessant  shake 
Their  uncouth  brawny  limbs,  aiKl  knock  their  heels 
Sonorous ;  down  each  brow  the  tricklhig  balm 
In  torrents  flows,  exhaling  sweets  refresh 
The  gazing  crowd,  and  heavenly  fragrance  fills 
The  circuit  wide.     So  danc'd  in  days  of  yore. 
When  Orpheus  play*d  a  lesson  to  the  brutes. 
The  listening  savages ;  the  speckled  pard 
Dandled  the  kid,  and  with  the  bounding  roe 
The  lion  gamboVd.     But  what  heavenly  Muse 
With  equal  lajrs  shall  Ganderetta  sing, 
When,  goddess-like,  she  skims  the  verdant  plain. 
Gracefully  gliding  ?  Every  ravish'd  eye 
The  nymph  attracts,  and  every  heart  she  wounds. 
The  most,  transported  Hobbinol !  Lo,  now. 
Now  to  thy  opening  arms  she  skuds  along. 
With  yielding  blushes  glowing  on  her  cheeks ; 
And  eyes  that  sweetly  languish ;  but  too  soon. 
Too  soon,  alas  !  she  flies  thy  vain  embrace. 
But  flies  to  be  pursued ;  nimbly  she  trips. 
And  darts  a  glance  so  tender  as  she  turns, 
That,  with  new  hopes  relieved,  thy  joys  revive. 
Thy  stature's  rais'd,  and  thou  art  more  than  man. 
Thy  stately  port,  and  more  majestic  air, 
And  ever}'  sprightly  motion  spades  thy  love. 

To  the  loud  bag-pipe's  solemn  voice  attend. 
Whose  rising  winds  proclaim  a  storm  is  nigh. 
Haimonious  blasts  !  that  warm  the  frozen  blood 
Of  Caledonia's  sons  to  love  or  war, 
And  cheer  their  drooping  hearts,  robb'd  of  theSun*s 
Enlivening  ray,  that  o'er  the  snowy  Alps 
Reluctant  peeps,  and  speeds  to  better  climas. 

Forthwith  in  hoary  majesty  appear 
One  of  gigantic  size,  but  visage  wan» 
Milonides  the  strong,  renown'd  of  old 
For  feats  of  arms,  but,  bending  now  with  years, 
ttis  trunk  unwieldy  from  the  verdant  turf 
He  rears  deliberate,  and  with  his  plant 
Of  toughest  virgin  oak  in  rising  aids 
His  trembling  limbs ;  his  bald  and  wrinkled  front, 
Entrench'd  with  many  a  glorious  scar,  bespeaks 
Submissive  reverence.     He  with  countenance  grim 
Boasts  his  past  deeds,  and  with  redoubled  strokes 
Marshals- the  crowd,  and  forms  the  circle  wide. 
Stem  arbiter  !  like  some  huge  rock  he  stands. 
That  breaks  th'  incumbent  waves;  they  thronging 

press 
In  troops  confus'd,  and  rear  their  fbammg  heads 
Each  above  each,  but  firom  superior  force 
Shrinking  repel  I'd,  compose  of  stateliest  view 
A  liquid  theatre.     With  hands  uplift. 
And  voice  Stentorian,  he  proclaims  aloud 
Each  rural  prize.     "  To  him  whose  active  foot 
Foils  his  bold  foe,  and  rivets  him  to  earth, 
This  pair  of  gloves,  by  curious  virgin  hands 
Embroider'd,  seam'd  with  silk,  andfring'd  with  gold. 
To  him,  who  best  the  stubborn  hilts  can  wield. 
And  bloody  marks  of  his  displeasure  leave 
On  his  opponent's  head,  this  beaver  white. 
With  silver  edging  grac'd,  and  scarlet  plume. 
Ye  taper  maidens  !    whose  impetuous  speed 
Outflies  the  roe,  nor  bends  the  tender  grass, 
See  here  this  prize,  this  rich  lac'd  smock  behold. 
White  as  your  bosoms,  as  your  kisses  soft     [grace 
Blest  nymph !  whom  bounteous  Heaven's  peculiar 
Allots  this  pompous  vest,  and  worthy  deems 
To  win  a  virgin,  and  to  wear  a  bride." 

TTie  gifts  refulgent  dazzle  all  the  crowd. 
In  speechless  admiration  fix'd,  unmov'd. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


176 


SOMERVILE*S  POEMS. 


£T*n  he  who  now  eadi  glorkms  pahn  displays, 
Jn  millea  silence  views  his  batter'd  limbs. 
And  sighs  his  vigour  spent.     Not  so  appdl'd 
Young  Pastorel,  for  active  strength  reoown'd: 
Him  fda  bore,  a  mountain  shepherdess ; 
On  the  bleak  woald  the  new-bom  infant  lay, 
ExposM  to  winter  snows,  and  northern  blasts 
Severe.    As  heroes  old,  who  from  great  Jove 
Derive  their  proud  descent,  so  might  he  boast 
His  line  paternal :  but  be  thoiif  my  Muse  I 
No  leaky  blab,  nor  painful  umbt-age  give 
To  wealthy  'squire,  or  doughty  knight,  or  peer 
Of  high  degree^  Him  every  shouting  ring 
In  triumph  crowned,  him  every  champion  fear'd^ 
Prom  Kiftsgate  » to  remotest  Henbury  * . 
High  in  the  midst  the  brawny  wrestler  stands, 
A  stately  towering  object  ^  the  tough  belt 
Measures  his  ample  breast,  and  shades  around 
His  shoulders  4road ;  proudly  secure  he  kens 
'h\e  tempting  prize,  in  his  presumptuous  thought 
Already  gain'd ;  with  partial  look  the  crowd 
Approve  his  claim.    But  Hobbinol,  enrog'd 
To  see  th'  important  gifts  so  cheaply  won. 
And  uncontested  hcooure  tamely  loA, 
With  lowly  reverence  thus  accosts  his  queen. 
"  Fair  goddess !  be  propitious  to  my  vows ; 
Smile  on  thy  slave,  nor  Hercules  himself 
Shall  rob  us  of  this  palm :  that  boaster  vain 
Far  other  port  shall  learn.*'    She,  with  a  look 
That  pierc'd  his  inmost  soul,  smiling  applauds 
His  generous  ardour,  with  aspiring  hope 
Distends  his  breast,  and  stirs  the  man  within : 
Yet  much,  alas !  she  fears,  for  much  she  loves. 
So  from  her  arms  the  Paphian  queen  dismiss*d 
The  warrior  god  on  glorious  slaughter  bent, 
Provok'd  his  rage,  and  with  her  eyes  inilam'd 
Her  haughty  paraanour.     Swift  as  the  winds 
Dispel  the  fleeting  mists,  at  once  he  strips 
His  royal  robes;  and  with  a  frawn  that  chiird 
The  blood  of  the  proud  youth,  active  he  bounds 
High  o'er  the  heads  of  multitudes  reclin'd : 
But,  as  beseem'd  one,  whose  plain  honest  heait. 
Nor  passion  foul,  nor  malice  daik  as  Hell, 
But  honour  pure,  and  love  divine,  had  fir'd. 
His  hand  presenting,  on  his  sturdy  foe 
Disdainfully  he  smiles;  then,  quick  as  thought,  ' 
With  his  left-hand  the  belt,  and  with  his  right 
His  shoulder  seiz'd  fast  griping ;  his  right-foot 
Essay'd  the  champion's  strength :  but  firm  he  stood, 
Fix'd  as  a  mountain-ash,  and  in  his  turn 
Repaid  the  bold  affront ;  his  homy  fist 
Fast  on  his  back  he  clos*d,  and  shook  in  ahr 
The  cumberous  load.    Kor  rest,  nor  pause  allow'd. 
Their  watchful  eyes  instruct  their  bu^  feet ; 
They  pant,  they  heave ;  each  serve,  each  sinew  H 

strain'd, 
Oras];Hng  they  close,  beneath  each  painful  gripe 
The  livid  tumours  rise,  in  briny  streams 
The  sweat  distils,  and  from  their  batter'd  shins 
The  clotted  gore  distams  the  beaten  ground. 
Each  swain  his  wish,  each  trembling  nymph  concesJs 
Her  secret  dread ;  while  every  panting  breast 
Alternate  fears  and  hopes  depress  or  raise. 
Thus  long  in  dubious  scale  the  contest  hnag, 
Till  Pastorel,  impatient  of  delay. 
Collecting  all  his  force,  a  furious  stroke 
At  his  left  ancle  aim'd ;  'twas  death  to  fall, 

>Two  hundreds  la  Qkieastersfainh 


To  stand  impossible.    O  Gaaderetlm ! 

What  horrours  seize  thy  soul !  on  thy  psk  < 

The  roses  fy/Ae.    But  wavering  long  in  air. 

Nor  firm  on  foot,  nor  as  yet  wholly  fallen, 

On  his  right  knee  he  slip'd,  and  nimbly  'scap'd 

The  foul  disgrace.    Thus  on  the  slacken'd  rope 

The  wingy-fboted  artist,  frail  support ! 

Stands  tottering ;  now  in  dreadful  shrieks  the  crowd 

Lament  his  sudden  fate,  and  yield  him  lost : 

He  on  his  hams,  or  on  his  brawny  rump. 

Sliding  secure,  derides  their  vain  distress. 

Up  starts  the  vigorous  Hobbinol  undismay'd. 

From  mother  Earth  hke  old  Antsus  rais'd 

With  might  redoubled.    Clamour  and  applause 

Shake  all  the  neighbouring  hills,  Avona's  banks 

Return  him  loud  acclaim:  with  ardent  eyes. 

Fierce  as  a  tiger  rushing  from  his  lair. 

He  grasn'd  the  wrist  of  his  insulting  fbe. 

Then  with  quick  wheel  oblique  his  shoulder  point 

Beneath  his  breast  he  fix'd,  and  whirrd  ak)ft 

High  o'er  his  head  the  ^irawling  3routh  he  flneg  : 

The  hollow  ground  rebellow'd  as  he  folL 

The  crowd  press  forward  with  tumultuous  din  ; 

Those  to  relieve  their  faint  expiring  friend. 

With  gratulations  these.  Hands,  tongues,  and  caps^ 

Outrageous  joy  proclaim,  shrill  fiddles  squeak. 

Hoarse  bag-pipes  roar,  and  Ganderetta  oniles. 


CANTO  IL 


THE  ARGUMENT. 


The  fray.  Tonsorio,  Colin,  HiMerbrand,  Cuddy, 
Qndaraxa,  Talgol,  Avaro,  Cubbin,  CoUakin, 
Mundungo.  Sir  Rhadamanth  the  justice,  at- 
tended with  his  guards,  comes  to  quell  the  fray. 
Rhadamanth's  speech.  Tumult  appeas'd.  Ooiv 
gonius  the  butcher  takes  up  the  hilts;  his  cfaasreo 
ter.  The  Kiflsgatians  ooostemation  r  look  wist- 
fully on  Hobbmol:  his  speech.  The  cudgel- 
playing;  Ooiigonius  knock'd  down,  foils  upoe 
Twangdillo;  his  distress;  his  lamentation  over  kls 
broken  fiddle. 

Long  while  an  universal  hubbub  loud. 

Deafening  each  ear,  had  drown'd  each  accent  mild  ; 

Till  biting  taunts  and  harsh  opprobrious  words 

Vile  utterance  found.  How  weak  are  human  ndnds  f 

How  impotent  to  stem  the  swellmg  tide. 

And  without  insolence  enjoy  success ! 

The  vale^tnhabitants,  proud,  and  elate 

With  victory,  know  no  restraint,  but  give 

A  loose  to  joy.    Their  champion  HobMnol 

Vaunting  they  raise,  above  that  earUi-bom  race 

Of  giants  old,  who,  pilmg  hills  on  hills, 

Pelion  on  Ossa,  with  rebellious  aim 

Mada  war  on  Jove.    The  sturdy  mountahleers. 

Who  saw  their  mightiest  foll'n,  and  in  his  fUl 

Their  honours  past  impair'd,  their  trophies,  won 

By  their  proud  fothers,  who  with  scorn  look*d  down 

Upon  the  subject  Vale,  sullied,  despoii'd. 

And  levelM  with  the  dost,  no  longer  bear 

The  keen  reproach.    But  as  when  sudden  fire 

Seizes  the  ripen'd  grain,  whose  bending  ean 

Invite  the  reaper's  hand,  the  furious  god 

In  sdbty  triumph  dreadftil  rides,  upborn 

On  wings  of  wind,  that  with  destnu*tive  breath 

Feed  the  fierce  flames ;  from  ridge  to  ridge  he  bounds 

Wide-wasthag,  and  pernicious  ruin  spr^uls : 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


HOBBINOL. 


177 


!iotlmrogh  the  crowd  ftt>m  breast  to  breast  swift  flew  { 

Hie  propajcated  rage;  loud  vollied  oaths, 

like  thuoder  bursting  from  a  cloud,  gave  signs 

Of  tnrath  awak'd.     Prompt  fury  soon  supplied 

With  arms  uncouth ;  and  tough  well-season'd  plants, 

Weighty  with  lead  infused,  on  either  hoitt 

Pall  thick,  and  heary ;  stools  in  pieces  rent, 

jUid  chairs,  and  forms,  and  batter'd  bowls,  are  hnrlM 

With  fell  intent ;  like  bombs  the  bottles  fly 

Hissing  in  air,  thehr  sharp-edg'd  fragmenfts  drencVd 

Id  the  warm  spouting  gore ;  heaps  driven  un  heaps 

Promiscuous  lie.    Tonsorio  now  a^vancM 

On  the  rough  edge  of  battle :  his  broad  front         * 

Seoeath  hit  shining  helm  secure,  as  erst 

Was  thine,  Mambrino,  stout  Iberian  knight ! 

Jk6ed  the  rattling  storm,  that  on  his  head 

Fell  famocent.     A  table's  ragged  frame 

In  his  risfet-band  be  bore,  Herculean  club  ! 

Crowds,  push*d  on  crowds,  before  his  potent  arm, 

Fled  ignominious ;  havock,  and  dismay, 

Hung  on  their  rear.     Colhn,  a' merry  swain, 

Blithe  as  the  soaring  lark,  as  sweet  the  strains 

Of  his  soft  warbling*  lips,  that  whistling  cheer 

Hh  labouring  team,  they  toss  their  he^^  well  pleas'd. 

In  gaudy  plumage  deck'd,  with  stem  disdain 

fi^eld  this  victor  proud ;  his  generous  soul 

Brook'd  not  the  foul  disgrace.    High  oer  his  head 

His  ponderous  plough -staff  in  both  hands  he  raised ; 

Erect  he  stood,  and  stretching  every  nerve. 

As  from  a  forceful  engine,  down  it  ^11 

Upon  his  hollowed  helm,  that  yielding  sunk 

Beneath  the  blow,  and  with  its  sharpenM  edge 

Sheared  both  his  ears,  they  on  his  shoulders  broad 

Hong  ragged.    Quick  as  thought,  the  vigorous  youth 

Shortening  his  staff,  the  Other  end  he  darts 

Into  his  gapmg  jaws.    Tonsorio  fled 

Sore  maim*d ;  with  pounded  teeth  and  clotted  gore 

Half-cboak'd,  he  fled ;  with  him  the  host  retired. 

Companions  of  his  shaime  ;  all  but  the  stout. 

And  erst  uncooquer'd  Hildebrand,  brave  man  ! 

Bold  champion  of  the  hills !  thy  weighty  blows 

Our  fkthers  felt  dtsmayM ;  to  keep  thy  post 

Unmov'd,  whilom  thy  valour's  choice,  now  sad 

Necessity  compels ;  decrepit  now 

With  age,  and  stiff  with  honourable  wounds. 

He  stands  unterrifyM :  one  cruU^  sustains 

His  frame  majestic,  th'  other  in  his  hand 

He  wields  tremendons ;  like  a  mountain  boar 

In  toOt  enclos'd  he  dares  hit  circling  foes. 

They  shrink  aloof,  or  soon  with  shame  repent 

Ihe  rssh  assault ;  the  mstic  heroes  fall 

In  heaps  around.    Cnddy,  a  dextrous  youth. 

When  force  was  vain,  on  frandful  art  rely'd : 

Clote  to  the  ground  low-cowering,  tmperreiv'd, 

Ctutious  he  crept,  and  with  his  crooked  bill 

Cot  sheer  ttuj  friul  support,  prop  of  his  age : 

Keeiing  a  while  be  stood,  and  menacM  fierce 

IV  insidious  swam,  reluctant  now  at  length 

^dl  prone,  and  ploughed  the  dust.    So  the  tall  oak. 

Old  mooareh  of  the  groves,  that  long  had  stood 

"The  shock  of  warring  winds  and  the  red  bolts 

Of  angry  Jove,  shorn  of  his  leafy  shade 

At  Itit^  and  inwardly  decay*d,  if  chance 

The  crnel  woodman  spy  the  fViendly  spur, 

Ws  only  hold ;  that  severed,  soon  he  nods, 

^  shakes  th'  encumbered  mountain  as  he  falls. 

When  manly  valour  fhif  d,  a  female  arm 
IKcAor'dthefighL    Afe  in  th' adjacent  booth 

VOL  XL 


Black  C^odaraxa's  busy  hand  prepared 
The  smoaky  viands,  she  beheld,  abashM, 
The  routed  host,  and  all  her  daistard  friends 
Far  scattered  o*er  the  plain ;  their  shameful  flight 
OrievM  her  proud  heart,  for,  hurried  i^ith  the  stream, 
Ev'n  Talgol  too  had  fled,  her  darling  boy. 
A  flaming  brand  from  off  the  glowing  hearth 
The  greasy  heroine  snatched ;  o'er  her  pale  foea 
The  threatening  mete5r  shone,  brandished  in  air. 
Or  round  their  heads  in  ruddy  circles  played. 
Across  the  prostrate  Hildebrand  she  strode. 
Dreadfully  bright :  the  multitude  appaird 
Fled  different  ways,  their  beards,  their  hair  in  flamei . 
Imprudent  she  pursued,  till  on  the  brink 
Of  the  next  pool,  with  force  united  press*d, 
And  waving  rouud  with  huge  two-handed  sway 
Her  blazing  arms,  into  the  muddy  lake 
The  bold  virago  fell.     Dire  was  the  fray 
Between  the  warring  elements ;  of  old 
Thus  Mulciber,  and  Tvanthus,  Dardan  stream^ 
In  hideous  battle  joined.     Just  sinking  now 
Into  the  boiling  deep,  with  suppliant  hands 
She  begg'd  for  life  j  black  ouse  and  filth  obsccn* 
Hung  in  her  matted  hair^  the  shouting  crowd 
Insult  her  woes,  and,  proud  of  their  success. 
The  dripping  Amazon  m  triumph  lead. 
Now,  like  a  gathering  Storm,  the  rally'd  troops 
Blackened  the  plain.   Young  Talcrol  from  their  fron^ 
With  a  fond  lover's  haste,  swift  as  the  hind. 
That,  by  the  huntsman's  voice  alarm'd,  had  fled. 
Panting  returns,  and  seeks  the  gloomy  brake^ 
Where  her  dear  fawn  lay  hid,  into  the  booth 
Impatient  nish'd.     Rut  when  the  fatal  tale 
He  heard,  the  dearest  treasure  of  his  soul 
Purloin'd,  his  Cindy  lost ;  stiffened  and  pale 
A  while  he  stood ;  his  kindling  ire  at  length 
Burst  forth  implacable,  and  injur'd  love 
Shot  lightning  from  his  eyes ;  a  spit  he  seiz*d. 
Just  reeking  from  the  fat  surloin,  a  long. 
Unwieldy  spear;  then  with  impetuous  rage 
Pressed  forward  on  th'  embattled  host,  that  shrunk 
At  his  approach.    The  rich  Avaro  first. 
His  fleshy  rump  bor*d  with  dishonest  wounds. 
Fled  bellowing :  nor  Could  his  numerous  flocks. 
Nor  all  th'  aspiring  pjrramids  that  grace 
His  yard  well  stor'd,  save  the  penurious  clown. 
Here  Cubbin  fell,  and  there  young  CoUakin, 
Nor  his  fond  mother's  prayers  nor  ardent  vows 
Of  love-sick  maids  could  move  relentless  Fate. 
Where'er  he  rag'd,  with  his  far-beaming  lance 
He  thinn'd  their  ranks,  and  all  their  battle  swerv'd 
With  many  an  inroad  goar'd.    Then  cast  around 
His  furious  eyes,  if  haply  he  might  find 
The  captive  fair ;  her  in  the  dust  he  spy'd 
Groveling,  disconsolate ;  those  locks,  that,  erst 
So  bright,  shone  like  the  polish'd  jet,  defil'd 
With  mire  impure;  thither  with  eager  haste 
He  ran,  he  flew.     But  when  the  wretched  maid 
Prostrate  he  view'd,  deform'd  with  gaping  wounds 
And  weltering  In  her  blood,  his  trembling  hand 
Soon  dropp'd  the  dreaded  lance ;  on  her  pale  chccKj 
Ghastly  he  gaz'd,  nor  felt  the  pealing  storm, 
That  on  his  bare  defenceless  brow  fell  thick 
From  every  arm :  o'erpower'd  at  last,  down  sunk 
His  drooping  head,  on  her  cold  breast  rwlin'd. 
Hail,  faithful  pair  !  if  ought  my  verse  avail, 
Nor  Envy's  spite  nor  Time  bhall  e>r  eflace 
The  recorda  of  your  fame;  bliad  British  har^ 


K 


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178 


SOMERVILE*S  POEMS. 


Id  ages  yet  tO  come,  od  festal  days 
Shall  chant  this  mournful  tale,whiie  listening  x\3nnpfa8 
Lament  aruund,  and  every  generous  heart 
With  active  valour  glows,  and  virtuous  love. 
How  blind  is  popular  fury  !  how  perverse, 
When  broils  intestine  rage,  and  force  controls 
Reason  and  law !  As  the  torn  vessel  sinks. 
Between  the  burst  of  adverse  waves  overwhelmed  j 
So  &res  it  with  the  neutral  head,  between 
Contending  parties  bruis'd,  incessant  peal'd 
With  random  strokes  that  undiscemin,?  fall ; 
Guiltless  he  suffers  most,  who  least  ofiends. 
Mundungo,  from  the  bloody  field  retired. 
Close  in  a  comer  plied  the  peaceful  boni ; 
Incurious  he,  and  thoughtless  of  events, 
Now  deemed  himself  conceaPd,  wrapt  in  the  cloud 
That  issued  from  his  mouth,  and  the  thick  fogs 
That  hung  upon  his  brows ;  but  hostile  rage 
Inquisitive  found  out  the  rusty  swain. 
His  short  black  tube  down  his  furrM  throat  impell*d^ 
Stags^ering  he  reePd,  and  with  tenacious  gripe 
The  bulky  jorden,  that  before  him  stood, 
Seiz'd  felling ;  that  its  liquid  freight  disgoi^'d 
Upon  the  prostrate  clown ;  floundering  he  lay 
Beneath  the  muddy  beverage  whelm'd,  so  late 
His  prime  delight    Thus  the  luxurious  wasp. 
Voracious  insect,  by  the  fragrant  dregs 
Allured,  and  in  the  viscous  nectar  plung*d, 
Hb  filmy  pennons  struggling  flaps  in  vam. 
Lost  in  a  flood  of  sweets.    Still  o*er  the  plain 
Fierce  onset,  and  tumultuous  battle  sprcEul; 
And  now  they  fall,  and  now  they  rise,  incens'd 
With  animated  rage,  while  nought  around 
Is  heard,  but  clamour,  shout,  and  female  cries. 
And  curses  mix'd  with  groans.     Discord  on  high 
Shook  her  infernal  scourge,  and  o*er  their  beads 
ScreamM  with  mairgoant  joy;  when  lo!  between 
The  warring  hosts  appear'd  sage  Rbadamanth, 
A  kdlght  of  high  renown.     Nor  Quixote  bold. 
Nor  Amadis  of  Gaul,  nor  Hudibras, 
Mirror  of  knighthood,  e*er  could  vie  with  thee, 
dreat  sultan  of  the  vale  1  thy  front  severe. 
As  humble  Indians  to  their  pagods  bow. 
The  clowns  submiss  approach.     Themis  to  thee 
Commits  her  golden  badance,  where  she  weighs 
Th*  abandon'd  orphan's  sighs,  the  widow's  tears ; 
By  thee  gives  sure  redress,  comforts  the  heart 
Oppiess'd  with  woe,  anc^  rears  tlie  suppliant  knee. 
Each  bold  offender  hides  his  guilty  head, 
Astonish'd,  when  thy  delegated  arm 
Draws  her  vindictive  sword;  at  thy  command. 
Stem  minister  of  power  supreme  !  each  ward 
Sends  forth  her  brawny  myrmidons,  their  clubs 
Blazon'd  with  royal  amis ;  dtspatchful  haste 
Sits  earnest  on  each  brow,  and  public  care. 
Encompassed  round  with  these  liis  dreadfiil  g^uards, 
'  He  spurr'd  his  sober  steed,  grizzled  with  age, 
And  venerably  dull ;  his  stirrups  stretch'd 
Beneath  the  knightly  load;  one  hand  he  fix'd 
Upon  his  saddle-bow,  the  other  palm 
Before  him  spread,  like  some  grav^  orator 
tn  Athens,  or  free  Rome,  when  eloquence 
Subdued  mankhid,  and  all  the  listening  crowd 
Hung  by  their  ears  on  his  persuasKe  tongue, 
fie  thus  the  jarring  multitude  addressed.        [flower 
"  Neighbours,  and  friends,  and  countrymen,  the 
Of  Kiftsgate  !  ah  !  what  means  this  impious  broil  ? 
Is  then  the  haughty  Gaul  no  more  your  care  > 
Are  Landen's  plains  so  souu  fbrgot,  that  thus 


Ye  spill  that  blood  inglorious,  waste  thatstroDigtt, 
Which,  well  employed,  once  more  might  haTe  com- 
The  stripling  Anjou  to  a  shameful  flight  ?       [pett'd 
Or,^y  your  great  fore&thers  taught,  have  fix'd 
The  British  standard  on  Lutetian  towers  ? 

0  sight  odious,  detestable !  O  times 
Degenerate,  of  ancient  honour  void  ! 
This  fact  so  foul,  so  riotous,  insults 

All  law,  all  bovereign  power,  and  calls  ahmd 
For  vengeance ;  but,  my  friends !  too  well  ye  katM 
How  slow  this  arm  to^unish,  and  how  bleeds 
This  heart,  when  forc'd  on  rigorous  extremes. 
•O  cduntrymen  !  all,  all,  can  testify 
My  vigilance,  my  care  fyr  public  good. 

1  am  the  man,  who  by  your  own  free  choice 
Select  from  all  the  trib^,  in  senates  rul'd 
Each  warm  debate,  and  emptied  all  my  storM 
Of  ancient  science  in  my  country's  cause. 
Wise  Tacitus,  of  penetration  deep. 

Each  secret  spring  reveal'd ;  Thuamis  bold 
Breath'd  liberty,  and  all  the  mighty  dead, 
Rais'd  at  my  (»dl,  the  British  rights  confirm'd; 
While  Musgrave,  How,  and  Seymour  sneer'd  in  rabk 
I  am  the  man,  who  from  the  bench  exalt 
This  voice,  still  grateful  to  your  ears,  this  ftke 
Which  breathes  for  you  alone.  Where  is  the  wrdUik 
Distress'd,  who  in  the  cobwebs  of  the  law 
Entangled,  and  in  subtle  problems  lost. 
Seeks  not  to  me  for  aid !  In  shoals  they  < 
Neglected,  feeless  clients,  nor  return 
Unedify'd^  scarce  greater  multitudes 
At  Delphi  sought  the  god,  to  learn  their  finte 
From  bis  dark  oracles.    I  am  the  man, 
Whose  watchful  providence  beyodld  the  date 
Of  this  frail  life  extends,  tu  future  times 
Beneficent ;  my  useful  schemes  shall  steer 
The  common-weal  in  a^  yet  to  come. 
Your  children's  children,  taught  by  me,  shall  kMf 
Their  rights  mviolable :  and  as  Rome 
The  Sibyl's  sacred  books,  tho'  wrote  on  leaves 
And  scattered  o'er  the  ground,  with  pious  awe 
Collected ;  so  your  sons  shall  glean  with  care 
My  hallow'd  fragments,  every  scrip  divine 
Consult  intent,  of  more  intrinsic  worth 
Than  half  a  Vatican.^  Hear  me,  my  friends  I 
Hear  me,  my  countrjrmen  i  Oh  suffer  not 
This  hoary  head,  employ'd  for  you  alone. 
To  sink  with  sorrow  to  the  grave."    He  spake^ 
And  veil'd  his  bonnet  to  the  crowd.    As  when 
The  sovereign  of  the  floods  o'er  the  rough  deep 
His  awful  trident  shakes,  its  fury  falls. 
The  warring  billows  on  each  hand  retire 
And  foam,  and  rage  no  more.    All  now  is  biish'4 
The  multitude  appeas'd  ;  a  chearfu)  dawn 
Smiles  on  the  fields,  the  waving  throng  snbsidest 
And  the  loud  tempest  sinks^  b^:alm'd  in  peace. 
Goigonius  now  with  haughty  strides  advanc'd^ 
A  gauntlet  seiz'd,  firm  on  his  guard  he  stood 
A  formidable  foe,  and  dealt  in  air 
His  empty  blows,  a  prelude  to  the  6ghi, 
Slaughter  his  trade ;  full  many  a  panqper'd  OS 
Fell  by  his  fatal  hand,  the  bulky  beast 
Dragg'd  by  his  horns,  oft  at  one  d^Iy  blow» 
His  iron  first  descending  crosh'd  his  skull» 
And  left  him  spuming  on  the  bloody  floor. 
While  at  his  feet  the  guiltl^s  axe  was  laid. 
In  dubious  fight  of  late  one  eye  he  lost, 
Bor'd  from  its  orb,  and  the  next  gUacinf  strokt 
Bruis'd  sore  the  rising  arch,  and  bent  bis  nose^ 


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HOBBINOL. 


179 


Kithksi  he  trmmph'd  on  the  well-fought  ita^ 

Hockleian  hero !  Nor  was  more  deform'd 

The  Cyclops  blind,  nor  of  inbre  monstrous  size. 

Nor  his  voed  orb  m(>re  dreadful  to  behold, 

Weeping  the  putrid  gore,  severe  revenge 

Of  subtle  ithacus.     Terribly  gay 

In  hb  bufi' doublet,  larded  o*cr  with  fat 

Of  •huighter'd  brutes,  the  well-oiPd  cbampkm  shone. 

Sternly  he  gazM  around,  with  many  a  frown 

Fierce  menacing,  pn>vok'd  the  tardy  foe. 

For  now  each  c  jonbatant,  that  erst  so  bold 

Vai:Dted  his  majly  deeiU,  in  pensive  mood 

H'lng  down  hia  head,  and  fix*d  on  earth  his  eyes. 

Pale  and  dismayed.     On  H^binol  at  last 

Intent  they  gaze,  in  him  alone  their  hope. 

Each  eye  ^icits  him,  each  panting  heart 

Joins  in  the  silent  suit     Soon  he  perceiy'd 

Their  secret  wish,  and  eas'd  their  doubting  minds. 

"  Ye  men  of  Kiftsgate!  wboee  wide  spreading  fiune 
In  ancient  dttyn  were  sung  from  shore  to  shore. 
To  British  bards  <^  old  a  copious  theme ; 
Too  weU^las !  in  your  pale  cheeks  I  view 
Tour  dastard  souls.     O  mean,  degenerate  race; 
But  since  on  me  ye  call,  each  suppliant  eye 
Invites  my  auvereign  aid,  lo !  here  I  come. 
The  bahrark  of  your  fiiime,  tho*  scarce  my  brows 
Are  dry  from  glorious  toils,  just  now  achieved. 
To  vindicate  your  worth,    ho !  here  I  swear^ 
By  all  my  great  forefiithers*  feir  renown, 
^  that  illustrious  wicker,  where  they  sat 
In  comely  pride,  and  in  trimnphaot  sloth 
Gave  law  to  passive  clowns  ;  or  on  this  Q>ot 
In  glory's  prime,  yoong  Hobbinol  expires, 
And  from  his  dearest  Ganderetta's  arms 
Sinks  to  Death's  ootd"  embrace ;  or  by  this  hand 
That  stranger,  big  with  imolence,  shall  fall 
Prone  on  the  gpnound,  and  do  your  honour  right.'' 

Foitiiwith  the  hilts  he  seiz'd ;  but  on  bis  arm 
Fond  Ganderetta  hong,  and  round  his  neck 
Curi'd  in  a  soft  embrace.     Honour  and  love 
Adoobtfbl  contest  wag*d,  but  from  her  soon 
Re  spnmg  relentless,  all  her  tears  were  vain. 
Yet  oft  he  turned,  oft  sigh'd,  thus  pleasing  n^  : 

**  m  should  I  merit  these  imperial  robc^ 
Ensigns  of  majesty,  by  general  voice 
Conferred,  should  pam,  or  death  itaelf,  avail 
To  shake  the  steady  pnrnose  of  my  soul.         [man 
Peace,  fair-one  !  peace !  Heaven  will  protect  the 
By  thee  held  dear,  and  crown  thy  generous  love." 
'  Her  from  the  listed  field  the  matrons  sage 
Beluctaat  drew,  and  with  fair  speeches  80<ith'd. 

Now  front  to  front  the  fiearle5«  champions  meet ; 
f^orgootos,  like  a  tower,  whose  doody  top 
Invades  the  skies,  stood  lowering;  far  beneath 
The  strippfing  Hobbinol  with  careful  eye 
Each  opening  scans,  and  each  unguarded  space 
Measares  intent.    While,  neglig«atly  bold. 
The  bulky  combatant,  whose  heart  elate 
IWsdain'd  bis  pnny  foe,  now  fondly  deem'd 
•At  one  decisive  stroke  to  win,  unhurt, 
An  sasy  victory ;  down  came  at  once 
The  prmderous  plant,  with  fell  malicioas  rage, 
Aim'd  at  his  h^  direct ;  bat  the  tough  hilts, 
S»iftinterpo8'd,  elude  his  eA>rt  vain. 
"Hie  caotimis  Hobbinol,  with  ready  feet, 
Kow  shifts  luB  ground,  retreating :  then  agam 
Adraneeabold,  and  h»  unguarded  shhis 
^"tkii  secure  :  each  well-directed  blow, 
KtestothaciwdlK,  thick  as  the  fOiinf  hail. 


The  strokes  redoubled  peal  his  hollow  sides: 
The  multitude,  amaz'd  with  horror,  view 
The  rattling  storm,  shrink  back  at  every  blow, 
And  seem  to  feel  hu  wounds ;  inly  he  groaned, 
And  gnashed  his  teetb,  and  from  his  blood -shot  eye 
Red  lightning  flashM ;  the  fierce  tumultuous  raga 
Shook  all  hb  mighty  fabric.     Once  again  ^ 
Erect  he  stands,  collected,  and  rcsolv'd 
To  Conquer,  or  to  die :  swift  as  the  bolt 
Of  angry  Jove,  the  weighty  plant  descends : 
But  wary  Hobbinol,  whose  watchful  eye  , 
Perceiv'd  his  kind  intent,  sUp'd  on  one  side 
Declining ;  the  vain  stroke  from  such  an  height. 
With  such  a  force  impellM,  headlong  drew  down 
Th'  unwieldy  champion  r  on  the  solid  grannd 
He  fell  rebounding  breathless,  and  astunn'd. 
His  trunk  ejctended  lay  ;  sore  maimM  finom  out 
His  heaving  breast,  he  belcbM  a  crimson  flood* 
Full  leisurely  he  rose,  but  ooosoious  shame 
Of  honour  lost  his  failing  strength  renewed. 
Ra^,  and  revenge,  and  ever-during  hate, 
Blackened  his  stormy  front ;  rash,  furious,  blind. 
And  lavish  of  his  bkod,  of  random  strokes 
He  laid  on  load ;  without  design  or  art 
Onward  he  press'd  outrageous,  while  his  foe 
Encircling  wheels,  or  inch  by  inch  retires. 
Wise  niggard  of  his  strength.     Yet  all  thy  care^* 
O  Hobbinol ;  avail  d  not  to  prevent 
One  hapless  blow ;  o*er  his  strong  guard  the  plaal 
Lapp'd  pliant,  and  its  knotty  point  impress'd 
His  nervous  ohiiie  !  he  wreaui'd  htm  to  and  ft9 
Convolved,  yet,  thus  distressed,  intrepid  bora 
His  hilts  aloft,  and  guarded  wcH  his  head. 
So  when  th'  unwary  clown,  with  hasty  step,     . 
Crushes  the  folded  snake,  her  wounded  parts 
Groveling  she  trails  along,  but  her  high  crest 
Erect  she  bears;  in  all  its  speckled  pride, 
She  swells  inOam'd,  and  with  her  furky  tongue 
Threatens  destruction.     With  like  eager  hastr, 
Th*  impatient  Hobbinol,  whom  excessive  pain    ^ 
Stung  to  his  heart,  a  speedy  vengeance  vow'd. 
Nor  wanted  long  the  means ;  a  feint  he  made 
Witli  well -dissembled  guile,  his  batter'd  shins 
Mark'd  with  his  eyes,  and  menaced  with  his  plant, 
Gorgonius,  whose  long-suffering  legs  scarce  bora 
His  cumbrous  bulk,  to  his  supporters  frail 
Ind argent,  soon  the  fi-iendly  hilts  oppos'd ; 
Betray*d,  deceivM,  on  his  unguarded  crest 
IThe  stroke  delusive  fell ;  a  dismal  groan 
Burst  from  his  hollow  chest ;  his  trembling  haudi 
Forsook  the  hilts,  across  the  spacious  ring 
Backward  he  reelM,  the  crowd  affrighted  fly 
T  escape  the  falling  ruin.     But,  alas  ! 
Twas  thy  hard  fate,  Twangdillo !  to  receive 
His  ponderous  trunk ;  on  thee,  on  helpless  thee. 
Headlong  and  heavy,  the  foul  monster  fell. 
Beneath  a  mountain's  weight,  th'  unhappy  bard 
Lay  prostrate,  nor  was  more  renown*d  thy  song, 
O  seer  of  Thrace  !  nor  more  severe  thy  fitc. 
His  vocal  shell,  the  solace  and  support 
Of  wretched  age,  gave  one  melodious  scream; 
Andm  a  thousand  fragments  strew'd  the  plain. 
The  nymphs,  sure  friends  to  his  harmonious  miilll^ 
Fly  to  his  aid,  his  hairj'  breast  expose 
To  each  refreshing  gale,  and  with  soft  hafi^s 
His  temples  chafe  ;  at  tlieir  persuasive  t')uch 
His  fleeting  soul  returns;  upon  his  nimp 
He  sat  disconsolate  ;  but  when,  alas ! 
He  view'd  the  i»etter*d  fragments,  down  agala 


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180 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


Hemink  expiring;  by  their  friendly  care 
Once  more  revivM,  he  thrice  assayM  to  speak, 
And  thrice  the  rising  sobs  his  voice  subdued : 
Till  thus  at  last  his  wretched  plif^ht  he  moom*d. 

**  Sweet  instrument  of  mirth  !  sole  comfort  left 
To  my  declining  years  !  whose  sprightly  notes 
Restor'd  my  vi^ur,  and  renewed  my  bloom, 
Soft  healing  balm  to  every  wounded  heart ! 
Bespairint:,  dying  swains,  fmm  the  cold  ground 
Upraised  by  thee,  at  thy  melodious  call. 
With  ravishM  ears  received  the  flowing  joy. 
Gay  pleasantry,  and  care-beguiling  joke. 
Thy  sure  attendants  were,  and  at  thy  voice 
All  nature  smiPd.     But,  oh,  this  hand  no  more 
Shall  touch  thy  wanton  strings,  no  more  with  lay^ 
Alternate,  from  oblivion  dark  redeem 
The  mighty  dead,  and  vindicate  their  fame. 
Vain  are  thy  toils,  O  Hobbinol !  and  all 
Thy  triumphs  vain.  Who  shall  record,  brave  man  ! 
Thy  bold  exploits  ?  who  shall  tby  grandeur  tell, 
Supreme  of  Kiftsgate  ?  See  thy  faithful  bard, 
Beipoil'd,  undone.     O  cover  me,  ye  hill  ! 
Whose  vocal  clifts  were  taught  my  joyous  song. 
Or  thou,  fiwr  nj'mph,  Avona,  on  whose  banks 
The  frolic  crowd,  led  by  my  numerous  strains. 
Their  oi>oes  kept,  and  frisk'd  it  o'er  the  green. 
Jocund  and  gay,  while  thy  remurmuring  streams 
I>ancMby,  wellpleasU  Oh !  let  thy  friendly  waves 
Overwhelm  a  wreteh,  and  hide  this  hcadaccurs'd  I" 

So  plains  the  restless  Philomel,  her  nest, 
And  callow  young,  the  tender  gnwing  hope 
Of  future  harmony,  and  frail  return 
Por  all  her  cares,  to  barbarous  churls  a  prey ; 
Darkling  she  sings,  the  woods  repeat  faner  moan. 


CANTO  III. 


TBE  ARGUMENT. 


Cood  eating  expedient  for  heroes.     Homer  praised 
for  keeping  a  table.    Hobbinol  triumphant  Gan- 
derctta's  bill  of  fare.     Panegyric  upon  ale.   Gos- 
siping over  a  bottle.     Compliment  to  Mr.  John 
Philips.     Gandcrctta*s  perpjexity  discovered  by 
Hobbinol  ;    his  consolatory  sfH^ech  ;    compares 
himself  to  Guy  earl  of  Waruick.     (iandet-ctta, 
encouraged,   strij  s   for   the   race  ;  her  amiable 
fipirc.     Fusca  the  gipsey,  hot  diity  figure.    Ta- 
bitha,  her  great  reputation  f  jr  speed ;  hired  to 
the    di«^'nting    academy   at  Tewkesbury,      A 
short  account  of  Gamaliel  the  master,  and  his 
hopeful  scholars.     Tabitha  carries  weight.     'Vhe 
snioek  race.     Tabltba's  fall.     Fiisca's  short  tri- 
umph, her  humiliation,     f  Janderetta's  matchless 
»p*»ed.     Hobbinol   lays   tlie   prize   at   her  feet 
Their  mutual  triumph.     The  vicissitude  of  hu- 
man affairs,  exprrienced  by  Hobbyi  •'.     Mojwa, 
fomurly  his  servant,  with  her  two  children,  ap- 
pears to  him.     Mopsa's  speech  ;  assaults  Gande- 
r(rtta  ;  her  flight     Hobbinol's  prodigious  fright  i 
is  taken  into  custody  by  constables,  and  dragged 
to  sir  Rbadamanth*s. 
THour.n  some  of  old,  and  some  of  modem  dale. 
Penurious,  their  victorious  heva&i  fed 
With  barren  praise  alone  ;  yet  thou,  my  Muse ! 
Benevolent,  witii  more  indulgent  eyes 
Behold  tR»  immortal  Hobbinol ;  reward 
Witii  du«  reguletneut  UU  tiiuaiphant  t«ilt. 


Let  Qubtote's  hardy  codrage,  and  renowv. 
With  Sancho's  prudent  care  be  meetly  joiii*d« 

O  thou  of  bards  supreme,  MsBonides ! 
What  well-fed  heroes  grace  thy  hallow'd  page 
Laden  with  glorious  spoils,  and  gay  with  Mood 
Of  slaughtered  hosts,  the  victor  chief  returns. 
Whole  Troy  before  him  fled,  and  men  and  goda 
^ppos'd  in  vain  :  for  the  brave  man,  whose  arm 
RepelPd  his  country's  wrongs,  ey*n  he,  the  greait 
Atrides,  king  of  kings,  ev*n  he  prepares 
With  his  own  royal  hand  the  sumptuous  fSeast* 
Full  to  the  brim,  the  brazen  cauldrons  smoke^ 
Through  all  the  busy  camp  the  risrog  blaze 
Attest  their  joy ;  heroes  and  kings  fbrego 
Their  state  and  pride,  and  at  his  elbow  wait 
Obsequious.     On  a  polish'd  charger  placM, 
The  bulky  chine  with  plenteous  fat  inlak!. 
Of  golden  hue,  magnificently  shines. 
The  choicest  noorsels  severM  to  the  gods, 
The  hero  next,  well  paid  for  all  his  wouiidSy 
The  rich  repast  divides  with  Jove ;  from  out 
The  sparkling  bow|  he  draws  the  generous  vine, 
Unmbc'd,  unmeasured ;  with  nnstinted  joy 
His  heart  overflows.     In  like  triumphant  port 
Sat  the  victorious  Hobbinol ;  the  crowd 
Transported  view,  and  bless  their  glorious  chiefs 
All  KHtsgate  sounds  his  praise  with  joint  acclainft. 
Him  every  voice,  him  every  knee  oonfoss. 
In  merit,  as  in  right,  their  king.     Upoo 
Their  flowery  turf,  Earth's  painted  lap,  are  tp^emA 
The  rural  dainties ;  such  as  Nature  boon 
Presents  with  lavish  hand,  or  such  as  owe 
To  Ganderetta*s  care  their  grateful  taste, 
Delicious.     For  she  long  since  prepared 
To  celebrate  this  day,  and  with  good  cheer 
To  grace  his  triumphs.    Crystal  gooseberries 
Are  piFd  on  heaps;  in  vain  the  parent  tree 
DeteoAs  her  lusdous  fruit  with  pointed  spears. 
The  ruby  tinctured  corinth  clustering  hangs. 
And  emulates  the  grape ;  green  codlings  float 
In  dulcet  creams ;  nor  wants  the  last  ]Fear*s  storey 
The  hardy  nut,  in  solki  mail  secure. 
Impregnable  to  winter  frosts,  repays 
Its  hoarder's  care.    The  custard's  jellied  flood 
Impatient  youth,  with  greedy  joy,  devours. " 
Cheesecakes  and  pies,  in  various  forms  uprais'd. 
In  well-built  pyramids,  aspiring  stand. 
Black  hams,aiid  tongues  that  speechless  can  persuade 
To  ply  the  brisk  carouse,  and  cheer  the  soul 
With  jovial  draughts.     Nor  docs  the  jolly  god 
Deny  his  precious  gifts ;  here  jocund  swains, 
In  uncouth  mirth  delighted,  sporting  quaff 
Tiieir  native  beverage ;  in  the  brimming  glass 
The  liquid  amber  smiles.     Britoqs,  no  more 
Dread  your  invading  foes;  let  the  false  Gaul, 
Of  rule  insatiate,  potent  to  deceive. 
And  great  by  subtile  wiles,  from  the  adverse  i 
Pour  forth  his  numerous  hosts ;  Iberia !  join 
Thy  towering  fleets,  once  more  aloft  display 
Thy  consecrated  banners,  fill  thy  sails 
With  prayers  and  vo«'s,  roost  formidably  stroqf 
In  holy  trumpery,  let  old  Ocean  groan 
Iteneath  the  proud  Armada,  vamly  deemM 
Invincible ;  yet  fruitless  all  their  toils, 
Vain  every  rash  efibrt,  while  our  fat  gleb^   - 
O  badey>grain  productive,  still  supplies 
The  flowing  treasure,  and  with  simns  immense 
Supports  tlie  throne;  while  this  rich  cordial  i 
The  faqser^i  courage,  arms  his  stubbani  so«i 


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HOBBINOL. 


181 


With  oatiTe  honour,  and  rensUeasrage. 

Ilms  Taunt  the  crowd,  each  freeborn  heart  o'erfltiwi 

With  Britam's  gknry,  and  his  coantry*s  lore. 

Here,  hi  a  merry  knot  combined,  the  n3naiphs 
Four  oat  meUtfloous  streams,  the  bafany  spoils 
Of  the  laborious  l^.    The  modest  maid 
But  coyly  sips,  and  blushing  drinks,-  abash'd : 
Each  k»Ter  with  observant  eye  beholds 
Her  graceful  shame,  and  at  her  glowing  cheeks 
Bekindles  all  his  ftres :  but  matrons  sage. 
Better  experienc'd,  and  instructed  well 
In  Dudiught  mysteries,  and  feast-rites  old. 
Grasp  the  capacious  bowl ;  nor  cease  to  draw 
The  spumy  nectar.     Healths  of  gay  import 
J\j  merrily  about;  now  Scandal  sly, 
Inrinuathig,  gilds  the  specious  tale 
With  treacherous  praise,  and  ^th  a  double  &ce 
Ambiguous  Wantonness  demurely  sneers, 
Till  circting  brimmers  every  veil  withdraw, 
Aad  dauntless  Impudence  appears  unraask'd. 
Others  apart,  in  the  cool  shade  retired, 
Silarmn  cider  quaff,  by  that  great  bard 
Emobled,  who  first  taught  my  groveling  Muse 
To  mount  aerial.     O !  could  I  but  raise 
My  feeble  voice  to  his  exalted  strains. 
Or  to  the  height  of  this  great  argument. 
The  generous  liquid  in  aach  line  should  bound 
Spirituous,  nor  oppressive  cork  subdue 
Iti  foaming  rage ;  but,  to  the  lofty  theme 
Vnequal,  Muse,  decline  the  pleasing  task. 

Thus  they  luxurious,  on  the  grassy  turf 
Refell'd  at  large:  while  nought  around  was  heard 
Bat  miith  conras'd,  and  undistinguished  joy, 
And  laughter  &r  resounding ;  serious  Care 
Found  here  no  place,  to  Oandeiftta's  breast 
Betiring ;  there  with  hopes  and  fears  perplex'd 
Her  fluotaating  mind.     Hence  the  soft  sigh 
Escapes  unheeded,  spight  of  all  her  art ; 
The  trembfing  blushes  on  her  lovely  cheeks 
Ahemate  ebb  and  fl<||r ;  from  the  full  glass 
She  flies  abstemknis,  shuns'th*  untasted  fbast : 
But  careful  Hobbinol,  whose  anunons  eye 
From  her's  ne'er  wandered,  haunting  still  the  place 
Where  his  dear  treasure  lay,  discovered  soon 
Her  secret  woe,  and  bore  a  lover's  part. 
Compassion  melts  his  sohl,  her  gkming  cheeks 
He  kiss'd,  enamoured,  and  her  panting  heart 
He  pressed  to  his ;  then  with  these  soothing  words. 
Tenderly  smiling,  her  faint  hopes  reviv'd. 

"  Courage,  my  fair  \  the  splended  prize  is  thine. 
Inblgent  Fortune  will  not  daimp  our  joys, 
Nor  Uast  the  glories  of  this  happy  day. 
Hear  roe,  ye  swains !  ye  men  of  iGftsgate !  hear : 
Thoogh  great  the  honours  by  your  hands  conferred, 
"Hiese  royal  ornaments,  though  great  the  force 
Of  this  puissant  arm,  as  all  must  own 
Who  saw  this  day  the  bold  Gorgonius  fall; 
Yet  were  1  more  renown'd  for  feats  of  arms, 
•And  knightly  prowess,  than  that  mighty  Guy, 
So  fam'd  in  antique  song,  Warwick's  great  earl. 
Who  dew  the  giant  Colbrand,  in  fierce  fight 
Maintain'd  a  summer's  day,  and  freed  this  realm 
From  Danish  vassalage ;  his  ponderous  sword. 
And  massy  spear,  attest  the  glorious  deed ; 
?^  less  his  hospitable  soul  is  seen 
hi  that  capacious  cauldron,  whose  large  freight 
Might  feast  a  province;  yet  were  I  like  him, 
!)»  nation's  pride,  like  h'uii  I  could  forego 
All  euthiy  grau^eur^  wander  thioi^  the  world 


A  jocund  pilgrim,  in  the  lonesome  den, 

And  rocky  cave,  with  these  my  royal  hands 

Scoop  the  cold  streams,  with  herbs  and  roots  content. 

Mean  sustenance  ;  could  I  by  this  but  oain 

For  the  dear  fair,  the  prize  her  heart  desires. 

Believe  me,  charming  maid !  I  'd  be  a  worm , 

The  meanest  insect,  and  the  lowest  thing 

The  world  despises,  to  enchance  thy  fame." 

So  cheered  he  his  fair  queen,  and  she  was  checr*d. 

Now  with  a  noble  confidence  inspir'd, 
Her  looks  assure  success ;  now  stripp'd  of  all 
Her  cumbrous  vestments,  Beauty's  v^m  disguise, 
She  shines  unclouded  in  her  native  charms. 
Her  plaited  hair  behind  her  in  a  brede 
Hung  careless,  with  becoming  grace  each  blush 
Varied  her  cheeks,  than  the  gay  rising  dawn 
More  lovely,  when  the  new-bom  light  salutes 
The  joyful  Karth,  impviq>Unjr  half  the  skies. 
Her  heaving  breast,  through  the  thin  covering  view'd. 
FixM  each  beholder*s  eye ;  her  taper  thisrhs. 
And  lineaments  exact,  would  mock  the  skill 
Of  Phidias ;  Nature  alone  can  form 
Such  due  proportion.    To  compare  with  her. 
Oread,  or  Dryad,  or  of  Delia's  train, 
Fair  virgin  huntress,  fbr  ti.e  chase  array'd. 
With  painted  quiver  and  unerring  bow. 
Were  but  to  lessen  her  superior  mien. 
And  goddess  like  deport.     The  master's  hand. 
Rare  artisan  !  with  proper  shades  improves 
His  lively  colouring  j  so  here,  to  grace 
Her  brighter  charms,  next  her  upon  the  plain 
Fusoa  the  brown  appears,  with  greedy  eye 
Views  the  rich  prize,  her  tawny  frout  erects 
AudaciouK,  and  with  her  legs  unclean. 
Booted  with  grim,  and  with  her  freckled  skin. 
Offends  the  crowd.     She  of  the  Gip.<j»  train 
Had  wandered  long,  and  the  Sun's  scorching  rays 
Imbrown'd  her  visage  grim  ;  artful  to  view 
The  spreading  palm,  and  with  vile  cant  deocive 
The  love-sick  maid,  who  barters  all  h^r  store 
For  airy  visions  and  fallacious  hope. 
Gorgonius,  if  the  current  feme  say  true. 
Her  comrade  once,  they  many  a  merry  prank 
Together  play'd,  and  many  a  mile  had  stroll'd. 
For  him  fit  mate.     Next  Tabitha  the  tall 
Strode  o'er  the  plain,  with  huge  gigantic  pace. 
And  overlooked  the  crowd,  known  far  and  near 
For  matchless  speed  j  she  many  a  prize  had  won. 
Pride  of  that  neighbouring  mart,^  fbr  mustard  fam'd, 
Sharphrbiting  grain,  where  amicably  join 
The  sister  Hoods,  and  with  their  liquid  arms 
Greeting  embrace.     Hero  Gamaliel  sage. 
Of  Cameronian  brood,  with  ruling  rod 
Trains  up  his  babes  of  grace,  instructed  well 
in  all  the  gainful  discipline  of  prayer ; 
To  point  the  holy  leer,  by  just  degrees 
To  close  the  twinkling  eye,  t'  expand  the  palmft, 
T'  expove  the  whites,  and  with  the  sightless  ball 
To  glare  upon  the  crowd,  to  raise  or  sink 
The  docile  voice,  now  murmuring  soft  and  low 
With  inward  accent  calm,  and  tlien  again 
In  foaming  floods  of  rapturous  eloquence 
Let  loose  the  storm,  and  thunder  through  the  noso 
The  threatcn'd  vengeance  :  every  Muse  profano 
Is  banish'd  hence,  and,  Heliconian  streams 
Deserted,  the  fem'd  Leman  lake  supplies 

*  Tewkabury  in  the  vale  of  Evesham,  where  the 
Avon^rvQS  iot9  the  Severn, 


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182 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


More  plenteous  draughts,  of  more  divine  import 
Hail,  happy  youths !  on  whom  indulgent  Heaven 
Flach  grace  divine  bestows !  nor  yet  denies 
Carnal  beatitudes,  sweet  privilege 
<>f  saints  elect !  royal  prerogative ! 
1  fere  in  domestic  Cares  employ'd,  and  bound 
*J'<5  annual  servitude,  frail  Tabitha, 
Her  pristine  vigour  lost,  now  mourns  in  vain 
Her  sharpenM  visage,  and  the  sickly  qualms 
That  grieve  h«V  soul ;  a  prey  to  Loie,  while  Qmce 
Slf  pt  heedless  by  !  Yet  her  undaunted  mind 
Still  meditates  the  prize,  and  still  she  hopes. 
Beneath  the  unwieldy  load,  her  wonted  speed. 
Others  of  meaner  fame  the  stately  Muse 
Records  not ;  on  more  lofty  flights  intent, 

,    She  spurns  the  ground,  and  mountsher  native  skies. 
Room  for  the  master  of  the  nng;  ye  swains ! 
Divide  your  crowded  ranks.    See  !  there  on  high 
The  glittering  prize,  on  the  tall  standard  borne, 
Waving  in  airj  before  him  march  in  files 
Tlie  rural  minstrelsy,  the  rattling  drum 
Of  solemn  sound,  and  th*  animating  horn, 
Each  huntsman's  joy  j  the  tabor  and  the  pipe, 
Companion  dear  at  feasts,  wljose  cheaHiil  notes 
Give  life  and  motion  to  th'  unwieldy  clown. 
Ev'n  Age  revives,  and  the  pale  pnking  maid 
Feels  ruddy  health  rekindling  on  her  cheeks. 
And  with  new  vigour  trips  it  o'er  the  plain. 
Counting  each  careful  step,  he  paces  o'er 
The  allotted  ground,  and  fixes  at  the  goal 
His  standard,  there  himself  majestic  swells 
StretchM  in  a  line,  the  panting  rivals  wait 
Th*  expected,  signal,  with  impatient  eyes 
Measure  the  space  t>etwecn,  and  in  conceit 
Already  grasp  the  warm-contested  prize. 
Now  all  at  once  rush  forward  to  the  goal, 
And  step  by  step,  and  side  by  side,  they  ply 
Their  ba^y  feet,  and  leave  the  crowd  behind. 
Quick  heaves  each  breast,  and  quick  they  shoot  along. 
Thro*  the  divided  air,  and  bound  it  oVr  the  phiin. 
To  this,  to  that,  capricious  Fortune  deals 
Short  hopes,  short  fears,  and  momentary  joy. 
The  breathless  throng  with  open  throats  pursue. 
And  broken  accents  shout  imperfect  praise. 
Such  noise  confiis'd  is  beard,  such  wild  uproar. 
When  on  the  main  the  swelling  surges  rise, 
Dash  o^er  the  rocks,  and,  hurrying  through  the  flood. 
Drive  on  each  other^s  backs,  and  crowd  the  strand. 

.  Before  the  rest  tall  Tabitha  was  seen. 
Stretching  amam,  and  whirling  o'er  the  field ; 
Swift  as  the  shooting  star  that  gilds  the  night 
With  rapid  transient  blaze,  she  runs,  she' flies; 
Sudden  she  stops,  nor  longer  4;an  endure 
The  painful  course,  but  drooping  sinks  away. 
And,  like  that  fidling  meteor,  there  she  lies 
A  jelly  coki  on  earth.     Fusca,  with  joy, 
Beh«ild  her  wretched  plight ;  o*er  the  ^le  corse 
Insulting  bounds !  Hope  gave  her  wings,  ajad  now. 
Exerting  all  her  speed,  step  after  step. 
At  Ganderetta's  elbow  urg'd  her  way. 
Her  shoulder  pressing,  and  with  poisonous  breath 
Tainting  her  ivorj*  neck.     Long  while  had  held 
The  sharp  contest,  had  not  propitious  Heaven, 
With  partial  hands,  to  such  transcendent  charms 
Dispensed  its  fiivours.     For  as'o'er  the  green 
The  careless  gipsy,  with  incautious  speed, 

.  Push'd  forward,  and  her  rival  fair  had  reached 
Ulth  equal  pace,  and  only  no^o'erpass'd; 
Haply  she  treads,  where  late  th$  merry  train, 


In  wasteful  luxury,  and  wanton  joy, 

lavish  had  spilt  the  ckler's  frothy  flood, 

And  mead  with  custard  mix'd.  '  Sorpriz'd,  appalT^ 

And  in  the  treacherous  puddle  struggling  long. 

She  slipped,  she  fell,  upon  her  back  supine 

Extendi  lay ;  the  laughing  multitude 

With  noi^y  scorn  approv'd  lier  just  disgrace. 

As  the  sleek  leveret  skims  before  the  pack. 

So  flies  the  nymph,  and  so  the  crowd  pursue. 

Borne  on  the  wings  of  wind,  the  dear  one  fliei^    ' 

Swift  as  the  various  goddess,  nor  less  bright 

In  beauty's  prune,  when  through  the  yielding  air 

She  darts  along,  and  with  refracted  nys 

Paints  the  gay  clouds ;  celestial  messenger. 

Charged  with  the  high  behests  of  Heaven*8  great 

Her  at  the  goal  witli  open  -arms  received     [quem  1 

Fond  Hobbinol ;  with  active  leap  he  seized 

The  costly  prize,  ana  laid  it  at  her  feet. 

Then  pausing  stood,  dumb  with  excess  of  joy. 

Expressive  silence  I  for  each  tender  glance 

Betray'd  the  raptures  that  his  tongue  conceeVd. 

Less  mute  the  crowd,  in  echoing  shoots,  applaud 

Her  speed,  her  beauty,  his  obaequioas  kyve. 

Upon  a  little  oninence,  whose  top 
0*erkx>k'd  the  plain,  a  steep,  but  short  ascent. 
Placed  in  a  cliair  of  state,  with  garlands  crowii*d» 
And  loaded  with  the  fragrance  of  the  spring. 
Fair  Ganderetta  shone,  like  mother  Eve 
In  her  gay  sylvan  lodge :  delicious  bower ! 
Where  Nature^s  wanton  hand,  above  the  readk 
Of  rule,  or  art,  had  lavished  all  her  store,  / 
To  deck  the  flowery  rpof :  and  at  her  side. 
Imperial  Hobbinol,  with  finont  sublime, 
Great  as  a  Roman  consul,  just  retum*d 
From  cities  sack'd/^nd  provinces  laid  waste^ 
In  his  paternal  wicker  sat,  enthron'd. 
With  eager  eyes  the  crowd  about  them  press. 
Ambitious  to  behold  the  happy  pair. 
Each  voice,  each  instrument,  proclaims  their  joy 
With  loiid^  vehemence;  such  noise  is  heaxd. 
Such  a  tumultuous*  din,  when,%t  the  call 
Of  Britain^s  sovereign,  the  rustic  bands 
Overspread  the  fields;  the  subile  candidates 
Dissembled  homage  pay,  and  court  the  fools 
Whom  they  despise ;  each  proud  majestic  down 
Looks  big,  and  shouts  amain,  mad  with  the  tasfee 
Of  power  supreme,  frail  empire  of  a  day  ! 
That  with  the  setting  Sun  extinct  is  lost. 

Nor  is  thy  grandeur,  mighty  Hobbinol ! 
Of  longer  date.     Short  is,  alas !  the  reign 
Of  mortal  pnde :  we  pby  our  parts  a  while 
And  strut  upon  the  stage;  the  scene  is  changed. 
And  oflers  us  a  dungeon  for  a  throne. 
Wretched  vicissitude !  for,  after  all       i 
His  tinsel  dreams  of  empire  and  renown. 
Fortune,  capricious  dame,  withdraws  at  once 
The  goodly  prospect,  to  his  eyes  presents 
Her,  whom  his  concious  soul  abhorr*d,  and  feared. 
Lo !  pushing  through  the  crowd,  a  meagre  form. 
With  hasty  step,  and  visage  mcompoe'd  ! 
Wildly  she  star'd;  Rage  sparkled  in  her  eyes. 
And  Poverty  sat  shrinking  on  ^er  cheeks. 
Yet  through  the  cloud  that  Jiung  upon  her  brovs^ 
A  faded  lustre  broke,  that  dimly  shone 
Shorn  of  its  beams,  the  ruins  of  a  fooe. 
Impaired  by  time,  and  shatter'd  by  misfortunes. 
A  froward  babe  hung  at  her  flabby  breast, 
And  tugg'd  for  life ;  but  wept,  with  hideous  i 
His  frustrate  hopes,  and  unavailing  pains. 


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HOBBINOL. 


18S 


AnoUier  &tr  her  bending  thoolder  peep'd, 
Swaddled  arooDd  vHh  rags  of  various  hoe. 
He  kflos  his  comrade^twin  with  envioos  eye, 
As  of  his  share  defrauded ;  then  aiuain 
He  also  screams,  and  to  his  brother's  cries 
In  (Ideliil  concert  joins  bb  Joud  laments. 
O  dire  effect  of  lawless  love !  O  sting 
Of  pleasure  past!  As  when  a-full-frdght  sh^ 
Blest  in  a  rich  return  of  pearls  or  gold. 
Or  fragrant  spice,  or  silks  of  costly  dye. 
Makes  to  the  wish*d-ibr  port  with  swelling  sails. 
And  all  her  gaudy  trim  di^lay'd ;  o*erjoyM 
The  noaster  smiles ;  but  if  from  some  small  creek, 
A  larking  corsair  the  rich  quarry  spies,    . 
With  sdl  her  sails  bears  down  upon  her  prey. 
And  peals  of  thunder  from  her  hollow  sides 
Check  his  triumphant  course ;  aghast  he  stands, 
Stiffiso'd  with  fear,  unable  to  resist. 
And  impotent  to  fly ;  all  his  ibnd  hopes 
Are  dash*d  at  once  !  nought,  now,  alas !  remains 
Bat  the  sad  choice  of  slavery  or  death ! 
So  fiur>d  it  with  the  hapless  Hobbinol, 
In  the  fiill  blaze  of  his  triumphant  joy 
Surpm'd  by  her,  whose  dreadful  face  alone 
CoiUdAake  his  sted£sst  soul    In  vam  he  turns. 
And  shifts  his  place  averse ;  she  haunts  him  still 
And  glares  upon  him,  with  her  haggard  eyes, 
That  fiercely  spoke  her  wrongs.  Words  swell'd  with 

sighs 

At  length  burst  forth,  and  thus  she  storms  enrag'd. 
"Kaow'8tthounotme?£dteman!  nottoknowme 
Argoes  thyself  unknowing  of  thyself, 
PwflPd  op  with  pride,  and  bknted  with  success. 
Is  in^nr'd  Mopsa  then  so  soon  fbrgot; 
Thoo  knew'st  me  onoe,  ah !  woe  is  me !  thou  didst 
But  if  Isiboriaus  days  uxl  sleepless  nights. 
If  hunger,  cold,  contempt,  and  penury. 
Inseparable  guests,  have  thus  disguis*d 
Thy  OQce-bdov'd,  thy  handmaid  dear ;  if  thine 
And  Fortune's  fWmns  have  blasted  all  my  charms ; 
If  here  no  roses  grow,  no  lilies  bloom. 
Nor  rear  then*  heads  on  this  neglected  fiice ; 
If  throagh  the  world  I  range  a  slighted  shade, 
The^ghost  of  what  I  was,  fbrkMrn,  unknown; 
At  least  know  these.  See;  this  sweet  simpering  babe, 
I>ear  image  of  thyself  ^  tea !  how  it  sprunts 


With  Joy  at  thy  approach  !  see,  how  it  gilds 
Its  soft  smooth  face,  with  false  paternal  smiles  ! 
Native  deceit,  firom  thee,  base  man,  deriv'd ! 
Or  view  this  other  elf,  in  every  art 
Of  smiling  fraud,  in  e%'ery  treacherous  leer. 
The  very  Hobbinol !  Ah  !  cruel  man ! 
Wicked,  ingrate !  And  could'st  thou  then  so  soon. 
So  soon  forget  that  pleasing  fotal  night. 
When  me,  beneath  the  flowery  thorn  surpriz'd. 
Thy  artful  wiles  betray'd  ?  was  there  a  star. 
By  which  thou  didst  not  swear?  was  there  a  curse, 
A  phigue  on  Earth,  thou  didiit  not  then  invoke 
On  that  devoted  head ;  if  e'er  thy  heart 
Prov'd  haggard  to  my  love,  if  e'er  thy  hand 
Declin'd  the  nuptial  bond  ?  But,  oh  !  too  well. 
Too  well,  alas  !  my  throbbing  breast  perceiv'd 
The  black  impending  storm ;  the  conscious  Moon 
Veird  in  a  sable  cloud  her  modest  &ce. 
And  boding  owls  ^roclaim'd  the  dire  event. 
And  yet  I  love  thee. — Oh  !  could'st  thou  behold 
That  image  dwelliug  in  my  heart !  But  why. 
Why  waste  1  here  these  unavailing  tears  ? 
On  this  thy  nunion,  on  tliis  tawdry  thing. 
On  this  gay  victim,  thus  with  garlands  6rown'd, 
All,  all  my  vengeance  £dl !  ye  lightnings,  blast 
Tbat  face  aocurs'd,  the  source  of  all  my  woe  ! 
Arm,  arm,  ye  Furies  !  arm  ;  all  Hell  break  loose  1 
While  thus  I  lead  you  to  my  just  revenge, 
And  thus  '—Up  sUrU  th'  astonish'd  Hobbinol 
To  save  his.better  halt     "  Fly,  fly,"  he  cries, 
"  Fly,  my  dear  life,  the  flend's  mailicous  rage." 
Borne  on  the  wings  of  ft  ar,  away  she  bounds. 
And  m  the  neighbouring  village  pants  forlorn. 
So  the  couTS'd  hare  to  the  close  covert  flies, 
Still  trembling,  tliough  secure.    Poor  Hobbinol 
More  grievous  ills  attend:  araund  him  press 
A  multitcide,  with  huge  Herculean  clubs. 
Terrific  band  !  the  royal  mandate  these 
Insulting  show :  arrested,  and  amaz'd. 
Half  dead  he  stands ;  no  friends  dare  interpose. 
But  bow  dejected  to  th'  imperial  scroll : 
Such  is  the  force  of  law.    While  conscious  s 
Sits  heavy  on  his  brow,  they  view  the  wretch 
To  Rhadamanth's  august  tribunal  dragged. 
Good  Rhadamanth !  to  every  wanton  cbwm 
Severe^  indulgent  to  himself  alone. 


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FIELD-SPORTS; 
A  P()EM. 

HUMBLY   ADDBES8SD  TO 

HIS  ROYAL  HIGHNESS  THE  PRINCE. 

Haec  incondita  solus 

Montibus,  &  sylvis,  studio  jactaSat  inani. 

Virg.  Ed.  ii^ 

First  printed  in  1742. 


ADVERTISEMENT, 

The  several  acts  of  parliament  in  favour  of  falconry  are  an  evident  proof  of  that  high  esteem  our 
ancestors  had  conceived  for  this  noble  diversion.  Our  neighbours,  France,  Germany,  Italy,  and  all  the 
rest  of  Europe,  have  seemed  to  vie  with  one  another,  who  should  pay  the  greatest  honours  to  the  coura* 
geous  felcon.  Princes  and  states  were  her  protectors;  and  men  of  the  greatest  genius,  and  meet  accom- 
plished in  all  sorts  of  literature,  with  pleasure  carried  the  hawk  on  theh-  fists,  feut  the  princes  of  Asia, 
Turks,  Tartafs,  Persians,  Indians,  &c.  have  greatly  out-done  us  Europeans  in  the  splendour  and  magnifi* 
coice  of  their  field-paradeS,  both  as  huntsmen  and  falconers.  For  though  the  description  of  flying  at 
the  stag  and  other  wild  beasts  with  eagles  may  be  thought  a  little  incredible,  yet  permit  me  to  assure 
the  reader,  that  it  is  no  fiction,  but  a  real  fact  All  the  ancient  books  of  falconry  give  us  an  account  oi 
it,  and  the  relations  of  travellers  confirm  it  But  what  I  think  puts  it  out  of  all  dispute,  is  the  descrip- 
tion the  famous  Monsieur  de  Thou  has  given  us  in  his  Latin  poem,  De  Re  Accipitrari&,  lately 
reprinted  at  Venice  in  1735,  with  an  Italian  translation  and  notes. 

Hoc  studio  Hacmonii  circumsonat  aula  tyranni, 
Tercentum  illi  cquites,  quoties  venabula  poscit, 
Totpeditcs  adsunt:  longo  nemus  omne  remugit 
Latrantiim  occursu,  venatorumque  repulsis 

Vocibus ;  heic  gemini,  neque  enim  satis  esse  ferendo  • 

Unus  tanto  oneri  possit,  cedente  petauro 
Circum  aqutlam  gestant,  aliam  totidem  inde  ministri 
Impositam  subeunt :  qpiarum  minor  ilia  volucri 
Ore  canum  voces  fingit,  nemora  avia  complens 
Terrore  ingenti :  latebris  tum  excita  repentfe 
Infelix  fera  prorumpit :  ruit  altera  demiim 
Sublimis  compar  magno  stridore  per  auras ; 
Involat  inque  oculos  &  provolat,  atque  capaces 
Expaudens  per  inane  sinus,  caligine  densd, 
Horribilique  supervolitans  coclum  obruit  umbrA. 
Nee  minor  intcrei  obsistit :  sublin'is  ut  ilU, 
H«c  humilis  sic  terga  volans  premit  &  latus  urget : 
Neve  gradum  referat  retr6,  &  vestigia  vertat, 
Seu  caprea  aut  cervus  sese  tuHtobvius  illis, 
Kostro  atque  ungue  minax  vetat,  &  cum  compare  vires 
Altemat  socias,  artemque  remunerat  arte. 
Nee  mora,  nee  requies :  funis  exterrita  tantis 
Donee  hi  insidias  cscc4  convalle  locatas 
Precipitet  rabidis  fera  mox  laniando  roolossis. 

1  am  very  mtich  obliged  to  those  gentlemen  who  have  read  with  fiivour  my  poem  upon  hunting :  theif 
goodness  has  encouraged  me  t6  make  this  short  supplement  to  the  Chase,  and  in  this  poem  to  give  then 
seme  account  of  all  the  more  polite  entertainments  of  the  field. 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


FIELD  SPORTS. 


TUB  ARCVMBKT. 

Introduction.  Description  of  dying  at  the  stag  with 
•aglesy  after  the  manner  of  the  A5iatic  princes. 
Description  of  hem-hawking.  Of  flying  at  the 
rirer.  Partridge-hawking.  Daring  the  lark  with 
an  bobby  just  mentioned.  Shooting  flying.  Sett- 
ing.    Angling.    Conclusion. 

Omci  more,  great  prince,  permit  an  humble  bard 
Prostrate  to  pay  hit  homage  at  yomr  feet; 
Then,  like  the  morning  lark  from  the  low  ground 
Towering  aloft,  sublime  to  soar,  and  sing ; 
Sing  the  heart-cheering  pleasure  of  the  fleMb, 
The  choice  delight  of  heroes  and  of  kings. 

In  earlier  times,  monaichs  of  eastern  race 
In  their  ftilf  blaze  of  pride,  as  story  tells, 
Trained  up  th*  imperial  eagle,  sacred  bird  ! 
Hooded,  with  jinglrag  bells,  she  perch'd  on  high  j 
Not  as  when  erst  on  golden  wings  she  led 
The  Roman  legions  o'er  the  conquered  globe. 
Mankind  'her  quarry ;  but  a  docile  slave, 
TamM  to  the  lure,-and  careful  to  attend 
Her  master's  voice.    BehoM  the  man  renowned. 
Abbas  the  Great  (whom  all  his  Owning  slaves 
Deem'd  king  of  kings ;  vain  fools !  They  sure  forgot 
Greater  Leonidas,  and  those  iatol  Straits  »    f  heaps, 
Blood-stain'd,  where  slaugbter'd  Persians  fell  on 
A  dreadful  carnage !)  See  his  numerous  host 
Spread  wide  the  plams,  and  in  their  front  upborne, 
Each  on  her  perch,  that  bends  beneath  her  weight, 
Two  sister  eagles,  stately  ponderous  birds  ! 
The  air  *s  a  desert,  and  the  feather'd  race 
Fly  to  the  neighbouring  coverts'  dark  retreats. 
The  royal  pair  on  wing,  tljis  whirls  around 
In  ciicles  wide,  or  like  the  swallow  skims 
The  rosset  plain,  and  mimics  as  she  flies 
(By  many  a  sleepless  night  instructed  well) 
TTie  hound's  loud  openings,  or  the  spaniel's  quest 
What  cannot  wa^efbl  indnstry  subdue  ! 
Mean  while  that  mounts  on  high,  and  seems  to  view 
A  Mack  ascending  cloud ;  when  pierc'd  the  gloom 
Of  T»poare  dabk  condens'd,  the  Sun's  bright  beams 
Pam  not  her  sight:  she  with  expanded  sails 
Works  through  th'  etherial  fluid ;  then  perhaps 
^  through  a  break  of  clouds  this  self-pois'd  orb 
Hard  by  her  hand-maid  Moon.     She  looks  beneath 
Contemptuous,  and  beholds  from  far  this  Earth, 
This  mole-hill  Earth,  and  all  its  busy  ants 
labouring  for  life,  which  lasts  so  short  a  day 
J««t  blazing  and  extinct     So  thou,  my  soul. 
That  breath  of  life,  which  all  men  must  perceive 
jot  Done.distinctly  know,  when  once  cscap'd 
From  this  poor  helpless  cor^,  and  when  on  high 
wne  on  angelic  wings,  look  down  with  scorn 
Onthismean  lessening  world,  and  knaves  grown  rich, 
^y  chance,  or  fraud,  or  insolence  of  power. 
«o»  from  her  highest  pitch,  by  quick  degrees, 
With  less  ambition  nearer  Earth  slie  tends, 
AJyet  scarce  visible  ;  and  high  in  air 


*  Straits  ofThennopyla3.    See  the  story  of  Xerxes. 


Pois'd  on  extended  wings,  with  sharper  kern 
Attentive  marks  whate'cr  is  done  below. 
Thus  some  wise  general  from  a  rising  ground 
Obfterves  th'  embattled  foe,  where  serried  raids 
Forbid  access,  or  where  their  order  loose 
Invites  th'  attack,  and  points  the  way  to  fate. 
All  now  is  tumult,  each  heart  swells  with  joy. 
The  fiUconers  shout,  and  the  wide  concave  ringi. 
Tremble  the  forests  round,  the  joyous  cries 
Float  thro'  the  vales;  and  rocks,  and  woods,  andhiUs 
Return  the  varied  sounds.     Forth  bursts  the  stag. 
Nor  trusts  the  mazes  of  his  deep  recess  : 
Fear  hid  him  close,  strange  inconsistent  guide ! 
Now  hurries  him  aghast  with  busy  feet 
Far  o'er  the  spacious  plain ;  he  pants  to  reach 
The  mountain's  brow,  or  with  unsteady  step 
To  climb  the  craggy  cliff:  the  grey-hounds  strain 
Behind  to  pinch  his  haunch,  who  scarce  evades 
Their  gaping  jaws.     One  eagle  wheeling  flies 
In  airy  labyrinths,  or  with  easier  wing 
Skims  by  his  side,  and  stuns  his  patient  ear 
With  hideous  cries,  then  peals  his  forehead  broad. 
Or  at  his  eyes  her  fatal  malice  aims. 
The  other,  like  the  bolt  of  angry  Heaven, 
Darts  down  at  once,  and  fixes  on  his  back 
Her  griping  talons,  ploughing  with  her  beak 
His  pamper'd  chine ;  the  blood,  and  sweat  distill'd 
From  many  a  dripping  furrow,  stains  the  soU. 
Who  pities  not  this  fury-haunted  wretch 
Embarrass'd  thus,  on  every  side  distress'd  ? 
Death  will  relieve  him :    for  the  greyhounds  fierce. 
Seizing  their  prey,  soon  drag  him  to  tlie  ground : 
Groaning  he  falls ;  with  eyes  that  swim  in  teaiv 
He  l6oks  on  man,  chief  author  of  his  woe. 
And  weeps,  and  dies.    The  grandees  press  around 
To  dip  their  sabres  in  his  boiling  blood; 
Unseemly  joy  !  'Tis  barbarous  to  insult 
A  fallen  foe.     The  dogs,  and  birds  of  prey 
Insatiate,  on  his  re'eking  bowels  feast, 
But  the  stem  falconer  claims  the  lion's  share. 
Such  are  the  sports  of  kings,  and  better  far 
Than  royal  robbery,  and  tlie  bloody  jaws 
Of  all-devouring  war.     Each  animal. 
By  natural  Instinct  tiught,  spares  his  own  kind  : 
But  man,  the  tyrant  man,  revels  at  large. 
Free -hooter  uarestmin'd,  destroys  at  will  ' 
The  whole  creau'on,  men  and  beasts  his  prey 
These  for  his  pleasure,  for  his  ^^loiy  those.     ' 
Next  will  I  sing  the  ^-aliaut  falcon's  fame, 
Aerial  fights,  where  no  confederate  brute* 
Joins  in  the  bloody  fray ;  but  bird  with  bird 
Justs  in  mid-air.     Lo!  at  his  siege  «  the  hern. 
Upon  the  bank  of  some  small  purling  brook 
Observant  stands  to  tike  his  scaly  prize,     ' 
Himself  another's  game.     For  mark  behind 
The  wily  falconer  creeps ;  his  grazing  horse 
C^Miceals  the  treacherpus  foe,  and  on  his  fist 
Th'  unhooded  falcon  sits :  with  eager  eyes 
She  meditates  her  prey,  and,  in  her  wild 


«  The  place  where  the  hern  takes  his  stand,  watch- 
ing hb  prey^v 


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185 


SOMERVILES  POEMS. 


CoDcdt,  already  plumes  the  dying  bird. 
Up  springs  the  hern,  redoubUng  every  stroke^ 
Conscious  of  danger  stretches  far  away. 
With  busy  pennons  and  projected  beak. 
Piercing  th'  opponent  clouds :  the  folcon  swift 
Pollows  at  speed,  mounts  as  he  mounts,  for  hope 
Gives  vigour  to  her  wings.     Another  soon 
Strains  aftt^r  to  support  the  bold  attack. 
Perhaps  a  third.    As  in  some  winding  creek. 
On  prond  Iberia's  shore,  the  corsairs  sly 
JLurk  waiting  to  surprize  a  British  sail. 
Full-freighted  from  Hetruria's  friendly  porta, 
Or  rich  Byzantium ;  after  her  they  skud. 
Bashing  the  spumy  waves  with  equal  oars. 
And  spreading  all  their  shrouds:  ^he  makes  the  mam 
Inviting  every  gale,  nor  yet  forgets 
To  clear  her  deck,  and  tell  th'  insulting  foe. 
In  peals  of  thunder,  Britons  cannot  fear. 
So  tf  ies  the  hem  pursu'd,  but  fighting  flies. 
Warm  grows  the  conflict,  every  nerve*s  employ'dj 
Kow  through  the  yielding  element  they  soar 
Aspiring  high,  then  sink  at  once,  and  rove 
In  trackless  mazes  through  the  troubled  sky* 
Ko  rest,  no  peace.    The  falcon  hovering  iies 
BalancM  in  air,  and  confidently  bold 
Hangs  o*er  him  like  a  cloud,  then  aims  her  bk^r 
Full  at  his  destin'd  head.    The  watchful  hem 
Shoots  from  her  like  a  blazing  meteor  swift 
That  gilds  the  niglit,  eludes  her  talons  keen 
And  pointed  beak,  and  gains  a  length  of  way. 
Observe  th*  attentive  crowd ;  all  hearts  are  fix*d 
On  this  important  war,  and  pleasing  hope 
Glows  in  each  breast    The  vulgar  and  the  great. 
Equally  happy  now,  with  fireedom  share 
Th6  common  joy.    The  shepherd-boy  forgets 
His  bloating  care ;  the  labouring  hind  lets  fall 
His  grain  unsown ;  in  transport  lost,  he  robs 
Th*  expecting  furrow,  and  in  wild  amaze 
The  gazing  vdlage  point  their  eyes  to  Heaven. 
Where  is  the  tongue  can  speak  tlie  falconer's  cares, 
"Twurt  hopes  and  fears,  as  in  a  tempest  tost  ? 
His  fluttering  heart,  his  varying  cheeks  confess 
His  inward  woe.    Now  like  a  wearied  stag. 
That  stands  at  bay,  the  hem  provokes  their  rage  j 
Close  by  his  languid  wiag,  in  dowpy  plumes 
Covers  his  fatal  beak,  and  cautious  hides 
The  well-dissembled  fraud.    The  falcon  darts 
lake  lightning  from  above,  and  in  her  breast 
Receives  the  latent  death ;  down  plum  she  falls 
Bounding  from  earth,  and  with  her  tricklmg  gore 
Defiles  her  gaudy  plumage.    See,  alas ! 
The  folconer  in  despair,  his  favourite  bird 
Dead  at  his  feet,  as  of  his  dearest  friend 
He  weeps  her  fiitc ;  he  meditates  revenge, 
He  storms,  he  foams,  he  gives  a  loose  to  rage : 
Nor  wants  he  long  the  means ;  the  hem  fatigued. 
Borne  down  by  numbers  yields,  and  prone  on  earth 
He  drops :  his  crael  foes  wheeling  around 
Insult  at  will.    The  vengeful  falconer  flies 
Swift  as  an  arrow  shooting  to  their  aid ; 
Then  muttering  inward  curses  breaks  his  wings  \ 
And  fixes  in  the  gronnd  his  hated  beak ; 
Sees  with  malignant  joy  the  victors  proud 
Smeared  with  his  blood,  and  on  his  marrow  feast.  * 

3  This  is  done  to  prevent  his  hurting  the  hawk: 
they  generally  also  break  their  legs. 

*  I'he  reward  of  the  hawk  made  of  the  brains, 
marrow,  and  blood,  which  they  call  m  Italian,  soppm. 


Unhappy  bird !  onr  fiithers*  prime  delight ! 
Who  fenc'd  thine  ejrrie  round  with  sacred  lavi*. 
Nor  mighty  princes  now  disdain  to  wear 
Thy  waving  crest  ^,  the  mark  of  high  command. 
With  gold,  and  pearl,  and  brilliant  gems  adorD*d. 

Now,  if  the  crystal  stream  deUght  thee  more. 
Sportsman,  lead  on,  where  through  the  reedy  bank 
Th'  insinuating  waters  filtered  stray 
In  many  a  winding  maze.    The  wild-dock  thera     • 
Gluts  on  the  fiutening  ouse,  or  steals  the  spawn 
Of  teeming  shoals,  her  more  delicioos  feast. 
How  do  the  sun-beams  on  the  glassy  plain 
Sport  wanton,  and  amuse  our  wondenng  eyei 
With  variously-reflected  changing  rays ! 
The  murmuring  stream  salutes  the  flowery  meiMl 
That  gkiws  with  fragrance;  Nature  all  aroood 
Consents  to- bless.    What  sluggard  now  would  mah 
In  beds  of  down  ?  what  noiser  would  not  leave 
His  bags  untold  for  this  transporting  scene  ? 
Falconer,  take  care,  oppose  thy  well-trained  steed^ 
And  slily  stalk ;  unbood  thy  falcon  boM, 
Observe  at  feed  the  unsuspecting  team 
Paddling  with  oary  feet :  he's  seen,  they  fly. 
Now  at  fiill  speed  the  falconer  spurs  away 
T*  assist  his  favourite  hawk,  she  from  the  resi 
Has  singled  out  the  mallard  young  and  gay. 
Whose  green  and  azure  brightens  in  the  Sun. 
Swift  as  the  wind  that  sweeps  the  desert  plahi. 
With  feet,  wings,  beak,  he  cuts  the  fiqokl  sky: 
Behoves  him  now  both  oar  and  sail ;  for  see 
Th'  unequal  foe  gains  on  him  as  he  flies. 
Long  holds  th'  aerial  course;  they  rise,  they  fidl. 
Now  skim  in  circling  rings,  then  stretch  away 
With  all  their  force,  tUl  at  one  fatal  stroke 
The  vigorous  hawk,  exerting  every  nerve. 
Trussed  in  mid^-air  bears  down  her  captive  prey. 
'Tis  well  on  earth  they  fall ;  for  oft  the  duck 
Mistrusts  her  coward  whigs,  and  seeks  again 
The  kind  protecting  flood :  if  haply  then 
The  falcon  rash  aim  a  decisive  blow. 
And  spring  to  gripe  her  floating  prey;  at  once 
She  dives  beneath,  and  near  some  osier's  root 
Pops  up  her  head  secure ;  then  vfews  her  foe 
Just  in  the  grasping  of  her  fond  desires, 
And  in  fiill  pride  of  t^umph,  whelm*d  beneath 
The  gliding  stream.  Ah  i  where  are  now,  proud  bird  f 
Thy  stately  trappings,  and  thy  silver  bells 
Thy  glossy  plumage,  and  thy  silken  crest } 
Say,  tyrant  of  the  skies !  wouldst  tlkoa  not  ninr 
Exchange  with  thy  but  late  desponding  foe 
Thy  dreadful  talons,  and  thy  polish'd  beak. 
For  her  web  feet  despis'd  ?     How  happy  they ! 
Who,  when  gay  pleasure  courts,  and  fortune  i 
Fear  the  reverse,  with  caution  tread  those  paths 
^\Tiere  roses  grow,  but  wily  vipers  creep ! 

These  are  expensive  joys,  fit  for  the  great 
Of  large  domains  possessed :  enough  for  mo 
To  boast  the  gentle  spar-hawk  on  my  fist. 
Or  fly  the  partridge  from  the  bristly  field. 
Retrieve  the  covey  with  my  busy  train. 
Of  with  my  soaring  hobby  dare  the  lark. 

But,  if  the  shady  woods  my  cares  employ 
In  quest  of  feather'd  game,  my  spaniels  beat 

&  No  man  was  permitted  to  shoot  within  600  yards 
of  the  eyrie,  or  nest  of  an  hera,  under  great  penal- 
ties. 

*  The  hem's  top  wom  atooronatkms here,  wadbf 
the  great  men  in  Asia  in  then:  turbans. 


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'FuzzUag  Uk*  enbmgM  oofiae,  and  from  the  btake 
pQifa  forth  the  whirriiig  pheaiant.    High  in  ahr 
He  waves  his  ▼aried  plames,  stretching  away 
With  hasty  whig :  soon  fifom  th*  uplift  tube 
The  mimic  thunder  bunts,  the  leaden  death 
Overtakes  him ;  and  with  manj  a  giddy  whirl 
To  earth  he  fidb,  and  at  my  feet  exphres. 

When  Autumn  smiles,  alUbeauteous  in  decay. 
And  paints  each  chequer'd  grove  with  various  hues; 
My  setter  raq^es  m  the  new-shorn  fields, 
Hia  nose  in  air  erect ;  from  ridge  to  ridge 
Panting  be  bounds,  hb  quartered  ground  divides 
In  equal  intervak,  nor  careless  leaves 
One  inch  ontry'd.    At  length  the  tainted  gales 
His  nostrils  wide  inhale ;  quick  joy  elates 
His  beating  heart,  which,  aw'd  by  discipline 
Severe,  he  dares  not  own ;  but  cautiou?  creeps 
Low-oowering,  step  by  st^ ;  at  last  attains 
His  proper  dkilatee;  there  he  stops  at  once. 
And  points  with  his  instructive  nose  upon 
The  trembling  prey.     On  wings  of  wind  upborn 
The  floating  net  unfolded  flies ;  then  drops. 
And  the  poor  fluttering  captives  rise  in  jrain* 

Or  haply  on  some  river's  cooling  bank, 
Patiently  muaing,  all  intent  X  stand 


FIEUMPORTS.     .  isr 

To  hook  the  siiily  glntbon.    See!  downni&f 
My  cork,  that:  faithful  monitor;  his  weight 
My  taper  angle  bends;  surpris'd,  amaz'd. 
He  glitters  in  the  son  and  struggling  pants 
For  liberty,  till  in  the  purer  air 
He  breathes  no  more.    Such  are  our  pleading  cares. 
And  sweet  am  usements,  such  each  busy  drudge 
Envious  must  wish,  and  all  the  wise  enjoy. 

Thus,  most  illustrious  prince,  have  1  presum*d 
In  my  obscure  sojourn  to  sing  at  ease 
Rural  delights,  the  .ioy,  and  sweet  repast 
Of  every  noble  mind :  and  now  perchance 
Untimely  sing  ;  since  from  yon  neighbouring  shcire 
The  grumbling  thunder  rolls;  calm  Peace  alarm'd  ' 
Starts  from  her  couch,  and  '^he  rude  din  of  War 
Sounds  harsh  in  every  ear.  But,  righteous  Heaven! 
Britain  deserted,  friendless,  and  alone. 
Will  not  as  yet  despair :  shine  but  in  arms, 
O  prince,  belov'd  by  all !  patron  professed 
Of  liberty !  with  every  virtue  crown'd  • 
Millions  shall  crowd  heriitrand ;  and  her  white  cliffi^ 
As  Teneriff,  or  Atlas  firm,  defy 
The  break  of  seas,  and  malice  of  her  foes ; 
Nor  the  proud  Gaul  prerail  where  Caesar  fiul'd./ 


OCCASIONAL  POEMS,  TRANSLATIONS^ 
FABLES,  AND  TALES. 


Dum  nihil  habemus  majus,  calamo  ludimos. 

Pfaxd. 


WILLIAM  SOMERVILE. 

or  WAHWICKSHIHE,  SSQ; 
•H  mSADIirC  SEVEaAL  OF  Bit  EXCBLLSirr  POEMS. 

BT  ALLAN  RAMSAY. 

Sii,  1  have  read,  and  much  admire, 

Your  Mu»e*s  gay  and  easy  flow, 
Wann*d  with  thaf  tnie  Idalian  fire 

That  gives  the  bright  and  chcarful  glow. 
I  Gonn'd  each  line  with  joyous  care. 

As  I  can  such  fift>m  sun  to  sun ; 
And,  like  the  glutton  o'er  his  fare 

DeBcious,  thought  them  too  soon  dene. 
The  witty  smile,  nature  and  art, 

la  all  your  numbers  so  combine. 
As  to  complete  their  just  desert. 

And  grace  them  with  uncommon  shine. 
Delighted  we  your  Muse  regard, 

When  she  like  Pindar's  spreads  her  wings ; 
And  virtue,  being  its  own  reward. 

Expresses  >y  th«  Sister  Springs. 


Emotions  tender  crowd  the  mind^ 

When  with  the  rriyal  bard  you  go. 
To  sigh  in  notes  divinely  kind, 

"  The  mighty  fall'tt  on  mount  Gilbo.'» 
Much  stirely  was  t^c  virgin's  joy. 

Who  with  the  11  ad  had  your  lays; 
For  e*er,  and  since  the  siege  of  Troy, 

We  all  delight  in  love  and  praise. 
These  heaven-bora  passions,  such  desir^ 

I  never  yet  couVd  think  a  crime ; 
But  first-rate  virtoes,  which  inspire 

The  foul  to  reach  at  the  sublime. 
But  often  men  mistake  the  way, 

And  pump  for  fame  by  empty  boast. 
Like  your  gilt  A  is,  who  stood  to  bray,  c 

Till  in  a  flame  his  tail  he  lost 
Him  th'  incurious  Bencher  hits, 

With  his  own  tale,  so  tight  and  clean. 
That,  while  I  rrtad,  streams  gush,  by  fiU 

Of  hearty  laughter,  from  my  een. 
Old  Chaucer,  lard  of  vast  ingine, 

Fontaine  ami  Prior,  who  have  sung 
BIyth  tales  tho  best;  had  they  heard  thine 

On  Lob,  they'd  own'd  themselv^  out4on0. 


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1S8 

The  plot's  pnrtued  with  so  moeh  glc«, 

The  too  officious  dog  and  priest^ 
The  squire  oppressed,  I  own  for  me, 

I  never  heard  a  better  jest 
Pope  well  described  an  Ombre  Game; 

And  king  revenging  captive  queen  j 
He  merits ;  but  had  won  more  fame. 

If  author  of  your  Bowling-green. 
You  paint  your  parties,  play  each  bcwl. 

So  natural,  just,  and  with  such  ease. 
That,  while  I  read,  upon  my  soul ! 

1  wonder  how  I  chance  to  please. 
Yet  I  have  pleas'd,  and  please  the  b«st  i 

And  sure  to  me  laurels  belong, 
Since  British  fSair,  and.  'mongst  the  best, 

Somervile's  consort  likes  my  song. 
Ravished  I  heard  th'  harmonioos  fair 

Sing,  like  a  dweller  of  the  sky. 
My  verses  with  a  Scotian  air ; 

Then  saints  were  not  so  blest  as  L 
In  her  the  valued  charms  unite ; 

She  really  is  what  all  would  seem. 
Gracefully  handsome,  wise  and  sweet : 

Tis  merit  to  have  her  esteem. 
Your  noble  kinsman,  her  lov*d  mate. 

Whose  worth  claims  all  die  world's  respect, 
Met  in  her  love  a  smiling  fate, 

Which  has,  and  must  have,  good  effect. 
You  both  from  one  great  lineage  spring. 

Both  from  de  Somervile,  who  came 
With  William,  England's  conquering  king. 

To  win  fair  plains,  and  laiting  lame. 
Whichnour  he  left  to  's  eldet^t  son ; 

That  first-bom  chief  you  r  jpresent : 
His  second  came  to  Caledon, 

From  whom  our  Somer'le  talccs  descent 
On  him  and  you  may  Fate  be;tow 

Sweet  balmy  health  and  ch'^rful  fire, 
As  long  's  ye  'd  wish  tt)  live  betow, 

Still  blest  with  all  you  would  desire. 

0  sir !  oblige  the  world,  and  spnad 
In  print  those  and  your  other  lays ; 

This  shall  be  better'd  while  they  read, 
And  after-ages  sound  your  praise. 

1  could  enlarge — but  if  1  should 

On  what  you  *ve  wrote,  my  oc'e  would  run 
Too  great  a  length — Your  thoughts  so  croud. 

To  note  them  all,  I'd  ne'er  have  done. 
Accept  this  offering  of  a  Muse, 

Who  on  her  Pictland  hills  ne*er  tires : 
Kor  should  (when  worth  invites)  refuse 

To  sing  the  person  she  admires. 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS, 


AN  ODE. 


HUMBLY  IKtCRliBD  TO  THE    DUKE    Of   MARLBOROUGH, 
UPON  HIS  REMOVAL  FROM  ALL  UJS  PLACES. 

Virtus  repulsJE  nescia  sordidse 
Intaminatis  fulget  honoribus, 
Nee  sumit,  aut  ponK  secures, 

Arbitrio  popufaris  anne.  Hor. 

When,  in  meridian  glory  bright. 

You  shine  with  more  illiistrious  rays. 
Above  the  Miu>«*s  weaker  flight, 
Above  the  poet^  praise. 


In  vam  the  goddeti  nuHmU  hArnaiive  ddef. 
In  vain,  with  feeble  wings,  attempts  to  rise  ; 
Im  vam  she  ;toUs  to  do  h«-  hero  right, 
iMt  in  excess  of  day,  and  boundless  tracks  cf  light; 
The  Theban  swan  with  daring  wmgs,  ' — 

And  force  impetuoos,  soars  on  high. 
Above  the  clouds  sublimely  lings. 
Above  the  reach  of  mortal  eye' 
But  what,  alas !  wouM  Pindar  *£, 
Were  his  bold  Mnse  to  sing  <^  vou  i 
Can  Chromius'  strength  be  m^d  with  yoon  > 
Can  mimic  fights  and  sportivi  war 
With  Scheilembergh's  demolished  towers, 
Or  Blenheim's  bloody  field  compare  ? 
The  bard  would  blush  at  Thcron's  speed. 
When  Marlborough  moimts  the  fiery  steed; 
And  the  despairing  foe  *s  pursued 
Through  towns  and  provinces  subdued. 
Fopd  poet,  spare  thy  empty  boast. 
In  vain  thy  chariots  raise  so  great  a  dust ; 
See  Britain's  hero  with  whole  armies  flics, 
To  execute  his  vast  designs. 
To  pass  the  Scheld,  to  force  the  lines, 
Swift  as  thy  smoking  car,  to  win  th'  Olympic  prbe. 
But  now,  when,  with  diminish'd  light. 
And  beams  more  tolerably  bright. 
With  less  of  grandeur  and  surprise. 
Mild  you  descend  to  mortal  eyes ; 
Your  setting  glories  charm  us  more. 
Than  all  your  dazzlmg  pomp  before. 
Your  worth  is  better  understood. 
The  hero  more  distinctly  view*d. 
Glad  we  behold  him  not  so  great  as  good. 
True  Virtue's  amiable  fece 
Improves,  when  shaded  by  disgrace; 
A  lively  sense  of  conscious  worth. 
Calls  all  her  hidden  beauties  foith ; ' 
I)airts  through  the  gloom  a  lovely  ray. 
And,  by  hor  own  intrinsic  light,  creates  a  nobler  day. 

Let  fickle  Chance  with  partial  hands  divide 
Her  gaudy  pomp,  her  tinsel  pride ; 
Who  to  her  knaves  and  fOols  supplies 
Those  favours  which  the  brave  despis^ 
l«t  Faction  raise  the  sau^y  crowd. 
And  call  her  multitude  to  arms  ; 
Let  Envy's  vipers  hiss  aloud. 
And  rouze  all  HeU  with  dir^  alarms  -^ 
Go, shake  the  rocks,  and  bid  the  hills  remove  ; 
Yet  still  the  hero's  qiind  shall  be 
Unchangeable,  resolv'd,  and  free, 
Fix'd  on  its  base,  firm  as  the  throne  of  Jove. 
Britons,  look  back,  on  those  auspicious  days. 
On  Ister's  banks  when  your  great  leader  stood. 
And  with  your  gasping  foes  encumber'd  all  the  flcod^ 
Or  when  Kamillia's  bloody  plain 
Wks  fatten'd  with  the  mighty  slain  ; 
Or  when  Blaregnia's  ramparts  were  assail'd. 
With  force  that  Heaven  itself  had  scal'd^ 
Did  then  reviling  pens  profiine 

Your  Marlborough's  sacred  name  ? 
Did  noisy  tribunes  then  debauch  the  crowd  ? 
Did  their  unrighteous  votes  blaspheme  aloud  I 

Did  mercenary  tools  conspire 
To  curse  the  hero  whom  their  foes  admire  ? 
No  !— The  contending  nations  sung  his  praise  ; 
Wliile  bards  of  every  clime 
Exert  their  most  triumphant  lays. 
No  thought  too  great,  no  diction  too  aubliioe. 


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ODE. 


189 


ftail,  gloTiDatpHiiee!  *^  not  for  tSiee  we  griere. 

For  thy  invalnerable  fame 

No  dimmntion  oan  receive. 

Thou,  mighty  man !  art  still  the  same. 

Thy  pumr  goM  ehides  the  flame ; 
Thb  fiery  trial  makes  thy  virtue  shine. 
And  penecotion  crowns  thy  brows  with  rays  ^vine. 
But  what,  alas !  shall  feinting  Eorope  do  ? 
How  stand  the  shock  of  her  hnperioos  foe  ? 

What  successor  shall  bear  the  weight 

Of  all  our  cares?  and  prop  the  state? 

Since  thou  oor  Atlas  art  remov'd, 
O  best  dewrving  chief !  and  therefore  best  beloy'd  ? 

To  your  own  Blenheim's  blissful  seat. 

From  this  ungrateful  world  retreat; 
A  gift  unequal  to  that  hero's  worth,  [fort  h, 

Who  from  the  peaceful  Thames  led  our  bold  Britons 

To  free  Uie  Danube  and  the  Rhine ;  * 

Who  by  the  thunder  of  his  arms 

Shook  tiie  proud  Rhone  with  loud  alarms, 
4nd  raised  a  tempest  in  the  trembling  Seine. 

After  the  long  fatiguM  of  war, 

Repose  yourenvy'd  virtues  here; 

Enjoy,  my  lord,  the  sweet  repast 

Of  all  your  glorious  toils, 

A  pleasure  that  shall  ever  last. 

The  mighty  comfort  that  proceeds 

From  the  just  sense  of  virtuous  deeds,    [spoils. 
Content  with  endless  fame,  contemn  the  meaner 

Pomona  calls,  and  Pan  mvites, 

To  rural  pleasures,  chaste  delights; 

The  orange  and  the  citron  grove 

Will  by  your  hand  alone  hnprove ; 

Would  fein  their  gaudy  liveries  wear. 
And  wait  your  presence  to  revive  the  year. 

In  this  Elysium,  more  than  blest, 

Laugh  at  the  vulgar's  senseless  hate. 

The  politician's  vain  deceit. 

The  fowning  knave,  the  proud  ingrate. 

Revolve  in  your  capacious  breast 

The  various  unforeseen  events. 

And  unexpected  accidents,  [great. 

That  change  the  flatt'ring  scene,  and  overturn  the 

Frail  are  our  hopes,  and  short  the  date 

Of  grandeur's  transitory  state. 

C6rinthian  brass  shall  melt  away. 

And  Parian  marble  shall  decay ; 
The  vast  Colossus,  that  on  either  short 

Exulting  stood,  is  now  no  more; 

Arts  and  artificers  shall  die. 

And  in  one  common  ruin  lie. 
Behold  ydur  own  majestic  palace  rise. 

In  haste  to  emulate  the  skies ; 

The  gilded  globes,  the  pointed  spires : 
-  See  the  proud  dome's  ambitious  height, 

Emblem  of  power  and  pompous  state. 
Above  the  clouds  aspires : 

Yet  Vulcan*s  spight,  or  angry  Jove, 

May  soon  its  towering  pride  reprove. 

Its  painted  glories  soon  ei&ce, 
Divide  the  ponderous  roof,  and  shake  the  solid  base. 
Material  stmctures  must  submit  to  Fate. 
But  virtue  which  alone  is  truly  great, 

Virtue  like  yours,  my  lord,  shall  b« 

Secure  of  immortality. 

Nor  fofeign  force,  nor  fiu:tious  rage. 

Nor  envy,  nor  devouring  age. 

Your  lasting  glory  shall  impaii, 

Tint  ahaU  iayit<nioui  truths  dcolari. 


And  woria  kf  darlmess  shall  disclose ; 

This  blessini:  is  reserv'd  for  you 
T  outlive  the  trophies  to  your  merit  due« 

And  malice  of  your  foes. 
If  glorious  actidns,  in  a  glorious  cause^ 

If  valour  n^ligent  of  praise. 
Deserving,  jret  retiring  firom  applause. 
In  generous  minds  can  great  ideas  raise  s 
If  Europe  sav'd,  and  Uberty  restored. 
By  steady  conduct,  and  a  prosperous  sword^ 
Can  claim  in  free-bom  souls  a  just  esteem; 

Britahi's  victorious  chief  shall  be 

Rever'd  by  late  posterity, 
The  hero's  pattern,  and  the  poet's  theniew 


ODE, 


occAiiOMBD  ar  thb  duke  of  marlborouoh^ 

SMBAKKING   FOK  OSTSKD,  AN.    1712. 


Interque  moerentes  amicos 
.Egregius  properavit  exuL 


[lor« 


Yi  poweis,  who  nile  the  boundless  deep. 
Whose  dre^d  commands  the  wmds  obey. 

To  roll  the  waters  on  a  heap. 
Or  smooth  the  liquid  way : 
Propitious  hear  Britaimia's  prayer, 
Britannia's  hope  is  now  your  care,   ' 
Whom  oft  to  yonder  distant  shore^ 
Your  hospitable  billows  bore, 
When  Europe  in  distress  implored 
Relief  from  his  victorious  sWord ; 
Who,  when  the  mighty  Work  was  done, 
Tsrrants  repeird  and  battles  won. 

On  your  glad  waves,  proud  of  the  glorious  load. 
Thro*  these  your  watery  realms,  in  yearly  triumph 
To  winds  and  seas,  distress'd  he  flies,       [rode. 
From  storms  at  land,  and  faction's  spight :     ' 
Though  the  more  fickle  crowd  denies, 

The  winds,  the  seas,  shall  do  his  virtue  right 
Be  husht,  ye  winds  !  be  still,  ye  seas  I 
Ye  billows  sleep  at  ease. 
And  m  your  rocky  caverns  rest ! 

Let  all  be  calm  as  the  great  haro's  breast^ 
Here  no  unruly  passions  reign. 
Nor  servile  fsar,  nor  proud  (lisdain. 
Each  wilder  lust  is  banish'd  hence. 
Where  gentle  love  presides,  and  mild  benevolence 
Here  no  gloomy  cares  arisei, 
Conscioas  honour  still  supplies. 
Friendly  hope,  and  peace  of  mind. 
Such  as  djring  martyrs  find. 

Serene  withid,  no  guilt  he  knows. 
While  all  his  wrongs  sit  heavy  on  bis  foet. 
Say,  Muse,  what  hero  shall  I  f  ing. 

What  great  example  bring. 
To  parallel  this  mighty  wrongs 
And  with  his  graceful  woes  adorn  ifiy  song  f 
Shall  brave  Themistocles  appear 
Before  the  haughty  Persian's  throne  > 
While  conquer'd  chiefs  confein  their  (^gur. 
And  shattered  fleets  bis  triunfi|*hs  ovrn ; 

In  admiration  fix'd,  the  monarali  stood. 

With  secret  joy,  his  glorious  prize  he  view'd. 
Of  more  intrinsic  worth  than  provinces  subdued. 
Or  faithful  Aristides,  sent, 
For  being  just,  to  baaisbHieit, 


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m 


SOMERVILES  POEMS. 


He  writ  tiie  ri^d  fentence  do#a. 

He  pitied  the  misguided  down. 
Or  bim>  who,  wheo  brib*d  orators  misled 
The  iictious  tribes,  to  hostile  Sparta  fled  ; 
The  vile  ingrateftil  crowd, 

Proclaim'd  their  impious  jof  aloud. 
But  soon  the  fools  disc(nrer*d  to  their  cost^ 
Athens  in  Alcibtades  was  lost. 
Or,  if  a  Roman  name  delight  thee  more. 

The  great  Dictator's  &te  deplore, 
CamiHus  against  noisy  faction  bold^ 

In  victories  and  triumphs  okL 
Ungrateful  Rome ! 

Ptinish'd  by  Heaven's  avenging  doom, 
Soon  shall  thy  ardent  votrs  invite  him  home. 

The  mighty  cbieflain  toch  recall. 

To  prop  the  falling  capit  jI,  » 
And  save  his  country  from  the  peijur'd  Gaul. 

Search,  Muse,  the  dark  records  of  time. 

And  every  shameful  story  trace. 

Black  with  mjustice  and  disgrace, 

T^lien  glorious  merit  was  a  crime  j 
Yet  these,  all  these,  but  faintly  can  express 
Folly  without  excuse,  and  madness  in  excess. 

The  noblest  object  that  our  eyes  can  bless. 
Is  the  brave  man  trium^jhant  io  distren ; 

Above  the  reach  of  partial  Fate, 
'    Above  the  vulgar's  praise  or  hate,       fdepress. 
Whom  no  feign'd  smiles  can  raise,  no  real  fW>wns 
View  him,  ye  Britons,  on  the  naked  shore, 
Besolv'd  to  trust  your  faithless  vows  no  more. 
That  mii'hty  man !  who  for  ten  glorious  years 
Surpasji'd  our  hopes,  prevented  all  our  prayers. 

A  name,  io  every  clime  renown'd. 

By  nat'ons  bless'd,  by  monarchs  crown'd. 
In  solemn  jiibilees  our  days  we  spent. 
Our  hearts  exulting  in  each  grand  event. 

Factions  a|>plaud  the  man  they  hate, 
iind  with  regret,  to  pay  their  painful  homage  wait 

Have  I  not  teeu  this  crowded  shore. 

With  mnltitvcie)  all  cover'd  o'er? 

While  hills  and  proves  their  joy  proclaim. 

And  echoing  rocks  return  his  name. 
Attentive  on  the  lovely  form  they  gaze : 

He  with  a  cheftrful  smile, 
<jlad  to  revisit  this  hif^  parent  isle. 
Flies  from  their  incemie,  and  escapes  their  praise. 

Yes,  Britons,  view  him  still  unmov'd, 
Unchaag'd,  though  less  belov'd. 
His  generous  soul  no  deep  resentment  fires, 
But,  blushing  for  his  country's  crimes,  the  kind  good 
man  retires. 
Ev'n  now  he  fights  for  this  devoted  isle. 
And  labours  t»  preserve  his  native  soil. 
Diverts  the  vdigeance  which  just  Heaven  prepares, 
Accus'd,  disarm'd,  protects  us  with  his  prayers. 
Obdnrate  heaits !  cannot  such  merit  move  ? 
The  hem's  vaiiur,  nor  the  patriot's  lo%*e  ? 
Fly,  goddess,  fly  this  inauspicious  place: 

S^um  at  tht  •  vile  degenerate  race. 
Attend  the  gld  ious  exile,  and  proclaim 

In  other  clin  «es  his  lastingfiime, 
Where  honest  I  earts,  unknowing  to  forget 

The  blessings  from  his  arms  receiv'd. 

Confess  with  ;ioy  the  mii^ty  debt, 
-  Their  altars  lesc  ued,  and  their  gods  relicv'd. 

Nor  sails  the  he^  ^  to  a  dime  unknown. 
Cities  preserT'<i^  \  their  $tmt  deUvsrer  osm  i 


Impatiest  crowds  about  bidi  prtsi^ 

And  with  sincere  devotion  bless. 
Those  p1a'n<!,  of  ten  years  war  the  bloody  itafe^ 
(Where  panting  nations  struggled  to  be  freis 

And  !ife  oxehang'd  for  liberty) 
Retain  the  marks  of  stern  BeUona's  rage. 

The  doubtful  hind  mistakes  the  fiekl 

His  fruitless  toil  so  lately  tilVd : 
Here  deep  intrenchments  sunk,  and  vales  appear* 

The  vain  retreats  of  OalHc  lear ; 
There -new-created  hills  deform  the  plain. 

Big  with  the  carnage  of  the  slain : 

These  monuments,  when  Faction's  spigbt 

Has  spit  its  poisonous  foam  in  vain. 

To  enilesti  ages  shall  proclaim 

The  matchles  warrior's  might  [right. 

The  graves  of  slaughtered  foes  shall  do  his  raloar 

These  when  the^curious  traveller 
Ama;s'd  shall  view,  and  with  attentive  care 
Ti-ace  the  sad  footsteps  of  destructive  War; 

Successive  bards  shall  tell. 
How  Marl!x>rough  fought,  how  gasping  tyrants  felL 
Alternate  chiefs  confeSi*d  the  victor's  fame, 
Pleas'd  and  excus'd  in  ther successor's  shame. 

In  every  change,  in  every  farm. 

The  Proteus  felt  bis  conquering  arm : 
Convinc'd  of  weakness,  in  extrtme  despair. 
They  lurk'd  behind  their  lines,and  waged  a  lazy  war. 
Nor  lines  nor  forts  could  calm  the  soldier's  fear» 

Surpriz'd  ho  found  a  Marlborough  there. 
Nature,  nor  Art,  his  eager  ragj  withstood. 
He  measured  <listant plains,  he  forc'd  the  rapid  flood. 

He  f  jiight,  he  conquer  d,  he  pursued. 
In  years  advanc'd,  with  youthf\il  vigour  warm'd^ 
The  work  of  ages  in  a  day  perfurm'd. 
When  kindly  gleams  dissolve  the  winter  snows 
From  Alpine  hills,  with  such  impetuous  haste 
The  icy  torrent  flows ; 
In  vain  the  rocks  oppose, . 
It  drives  along  enlarg'd,  and  lays  the  regions  waste. 

Stop,  goddess,  thy  presumptuous  flight. 

Nor  soar  to  such  a  dangerous  height, 
Raise  oot'the  ghost  of  his  departed  fame. 
To  pierce  our  conscious  souk  with  guilty  i' 

But  tune  thy  harp  to  humbler  lays. 

Nor  meditate  ofiensive  praise. 


TO 

MIL  ADDISON, 


OCCASIOKBD  BT  HIS   rUaCUASnW  All  BSTAtTB   III 
WARWICKniBI. 

— ^En  ertt  umpiam 
Blc  dies,  mihi  cum  liceat  ti»  dicere  facta ! 
Fji  erit,  ut  liceat  totum  mihi  ferre  per  orbem 
Sola  S(^hocleo  tua  carmina  digna  coth«mo! 

Wxf. 

To  the  gay  town  where  guilty  pleasure  reigns, 
The  wne  good  man  prefers  our  bumble  plams: 
Neglected  honours  on  his  merit  wait. 
Here  he  retires  wlien  courted  to  be  great. 
The  world  resigning  for  this  calm  retreat 
His  soul  with  wisdom's  choicest  treasure*  firangfat. 
Here  proves  in  practice  each  subhmer  thought. 
And  lives  by  rules  bis  happy  pen  has  taught 

Great  bard  !  bow  shall  my  worthless  Muse  aspire 
To  reach  your  praise*  witlKwt  your  SKred  Are  ^ 


.  Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


TO  MR.  ADDISON. 


<9t 


Viram  flwjoJbeioot  eritie*s  piercing  eyes, 
Tb  the  be^natur'd  man  secme  she  flies. 

When  panting  Virtue  her  last  efforts  made, 
Tou  brought  your  Clio  to  the  virgin's  aid ; 
Presumptuous  Folly  blushed,  and  Vice  withdrew. 
To  Ycngeance  3^elding  her  abandonNi  crew. 
lis  tree,  ooofederate  wits  their  forqes  join, 
Piamassus  labours  in  the  work  divine : 
Yet  these  we  read  with  too  impatient  eyes. 
And  hunt  for  you  through  every  dark  disguise; 
In  vaju  your  modesty  that  name  conceals. 
Which  every  thought,  which  every  word,  reveals, 
With  like  success  bright  Beauty's  goddess  tries 
To  veil  immortal  charms  from  mortal  eyes ; 
Her  gtaceful  port,  and  her  celestial  mien. 
To  her  brave  son  betray  the  Cyprian  queen; 
Odouts  divine  perfume  her  rosy  breast. 
She  glides  along  the  plain  in  majesty  confessed. 
Hard  was  the  task,  and  worthy  your  great  nund. 
To  please  at  once,  and  to  reform  mankind : 
Yet,  when  you  write.  Truth  charms  with  such  address. 
Pleads  Virtue's  cause  with  such  becoming  grace. 
His  own  fond  heart  the  guilty  wretch  betrays. 
He  yields  delighted,  and  convinced  obeys : 
You  touch  our  follies  with  so  nice  a  skUl^ 
Nature  and  habit  prompt  in  vain  to  ilL 
Kor  can  it  lessen  the  Spectator's  praise. 
That  finom  your  friendly  hand  he  wears  the  btys ; 
His  great  design  all  ages  shall  commend. 
But  more  his  happy  choice  in  such  a  friend. 
So  the  fair  queen  of  night  the  world  relieves, 
Kor  at  the  Sun's  superior  honour  grieves. 
Proud  to  reflect  the  glories  she  receives. 

When  dark  oblivion  is  the  warrior's  lot. 
His  merits  cen.'iur'd,  and  his  wounds  forgot; 
When  bumish*d  helms  and  gilded-armour  rust. 
And  each  proud  trophy  sinks  in  common  dust : 
Fresh  blooming  honours  deck  the  poet's  brows. 
He  shares  the  mighty  blessings  he  bestows. 
His  spreading  fame  enlarges  as  it  flows. 
Had  not  your  Muse  in  her  immortal  strain 
Described  the  glorious  toils  on  Blenheim^s  plain, 
Ev'n  Marlborough  might  have  fought,  and  Dormer 

bled  in  vain. 
When  honour  calls,  and  the  just  cause  inspires, 
Britain^s  bold  sons  to  emulate  their  sires ; 
Your  Muse  these  great  examples  shall  supply, 
like  that  to  cooqiter,  or  like  this  to  die. 
Cbnitending  nations  antient  Homer  claim. 
And  Mantua  glories  in  her  Maro's  name ; 
Our  happier  soQ  the  prize  shall  yield  to  none, 
Aidenna's  groves  shall  boast  an  Addison. 
Ye  silvan  powers,  and  all  ye  rural  gods. 
That  guard  these  peaceful  shades,  and  blest  abodes; 
Bor  your  new  guest  your  choicest  gifb  prepare, 
Exceed  his  wishes,  and  prevent  his  prayer ; 
GruDt  bhn,  propitious,  freedom,  health,  and  peace. 
And  as  his  virtues,  let  his  stores  increase. 
His  lavish  hand  no  deity  shall  mourn. 
The  pious  bard  shall  ma)^  a  just  return; 
In  lasthig  verse  eternal  altars  raise. 
And  over-pay  your  bounty  with  his  praise. 

Tune  every  reed,  touch  every  string,  ye  swaiof, 
m^elcome  the  stranger  to  these  happy  plains. 
With  hymns  of  joy  in  solemn  pomp  attend 
Apollo's  darling,  and  the  Mdses'  friend.       [groves. 
Ye  nymphs,  that  haunt  the  streams  and  diady 
fMfel  a  m\^  to  xnoiim your  absent  loves; 


Tn  song  and  sportive  dance  yonr  joy  poelatm. 
In  yielding  blushes  own  your  rising  fhmie: 
Be  kind,  ye  njrmphs,  nor  let  him  sigh  in  vain. 

Each  land  remote  your  curious  feye  bos  view'd^ 
That  Grecian  arts,  or  Roman  arms  subdu'd, 
Search'd  every  region,  every  distant  sf»il, 
With  pleasing  labour  and  instructive  toil : 
Say  then,  aooomplish'd  bard !  what  god  inclin'd 
To  these  our  humble  plains  your  generous  mind  t 
Nor  would  you  deign  in  Latian  fields  to  dwell. 
Which  none  know  better,  or  describe  so  welL 
In  vain  ambrosial  fniits  invite  your  stay. 
In  vain  the  myrtle  groves  obstruct  your  way. 
And  ductile  streams  that  round  the  borders  stray. 
Your  wiser  choice  prefers  this  spot  of  Earth, 
Distinguish'd  by  th'  immortal 'fihakes^ear's  birth; 
Where  through  the  vales  the  fair  Avona  glides^ 
And  nourishes  the  glebe  with. fattening  tides; 
Flora's  rich  gifts  deck  all  the  verdant  soil. 
And  plenty  crowns  the  happy  farmer's  toil. 
Here,  on  the  painted  borders  of  the  flood, 
The  babe  was  bom  ;  his  bed  with  roses  strow'd: 
Here  in  an  ancient  venerable  dome, 
Oppress'd  with  grief,  we  view  the  poet's  tondk 
Angels  unseen  watch  o>r  his  hallow'd  urn. 
And  in  saft  elegies  complaininrr  mourn : 
While  the  bless'd  saint,  in  loftier  strains  above. 
Reveals  the  wonders  of  eternal  love. 
The  Heavens,  delighted  in  his  tuneful  lays. 
With  silent  joy  attend  their  Maker's  praise. 
In  Heaven  be  smgs ;  on  Earth  your  Muse  suppfieg 
Th'  important- loss,  and  heals  onr  weeping  eyes. 
Correctly  great,  she  melts  each  flinty  heart. 
With  equal  genius,  but  superior  art 
Hail,  happy  pair !  ordain'd  by  turns  to  Mess, 
And  save  a  smking  nation  in  distress. 
By  great  examples,  to  reform  the  crowd. 
Awake  their  zeal,  and  warm  their  fri«en  blood. 
When  Brutus  strikes  fbrliberty  and  laws. 
Nor  spares  a  father  in  his  country's  cause; 
Justice  severe  applauds  the  cruel  deed, 
A  tyjrant  suffers,  and  the  world  is  freed. 
But,  when  we  see  the  godlike  Cato  ble^, 
The  nation  weeps ;  and  from  thy  fate,  oh  Rome ! 
Learns  to  prevent  her  own  impending  doom. 
Where  is  the  wretch  a  worthless  life  can  prize, 
When  senates  are  no  more,  and  Cato  dies  ? 
Indulgent  sorrow,  and  a  pleasing  pain, 
Heaves  in  each  breast,  and  beats  in  every  vein. 
Th'  expiring  patriot  animates  the  crowd, 
Bold  they  demand  their  ambient  rights' aloud, 
The  dear-bought  purchase  of  their  fethen'  blood. 
Fair  Liberty  her  head  majestic  rears. 
Ten  thousimd  blessings  in  her  bosom  bears ; 
Serene  she  smiles,  revealing  all  her  charms, 
And  calls  her  firee-bom  youth  to  glorious  arms. 
Faction  »s  repell'd,  and  rmmbling  leaves  her  prey. 
Forlorn  she  sits,  and  drenls  the  fatal  day, 
When  eastern  gales  shall  sweep  her  hopes  away. 
Such  ardent  zeal  your  Muse  alone  couid  raise. 
Alone  Veward  it  with  immortal  praise. 
Ages  to  come  shall  celebrate  your  fame. 
And  rescued  Britain  Wess  the  poet's  name. 
So  when  the  dreaded  powers  of  Sparta  faiPd, 
TyrtSBus  and  Athenian  wit  prevail'd. 
Too  weak  the  laws  by  wise  Lycurgua  made. 
And  rules  severe  without  the  Muses^aid : 
He  touch'd  the  trembling  strings,  the  poet's  9m% 
Rtviv'd  the  faint,  and  made  the  feeble  strong^ 


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192 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


Itecall'd  the  living  Co  the  dusty  plalo. 
And  to  a  better  life  restored  the  slain. 
The  victor-host  amazed,  with  horror  view'd 
Tb*  assembling  troops,  and  all  the  war  renewed  ) 
To  more  than  mortal  courage  quit  the  field, 
And  to  their  foes  th*  unfinished  trophies  yield. 


AN 

IMITATION  OF  HORACE, 

BOOK  IV.    ODK  IX^ 

INSCRIBED  TO 

•rRB  kiGRt  HONOOBABLB  JAMBS  ITATmOPe,   BSQ.   OKI 

OF  HIS  MAJESTV'S  fRIKCIPAL   SBCBBTABIBS  OF   STATE, 

APTBRWABD8  EARL  STANMOPB. 

BpxK  near  Avona's  windmg  stream 

I  touch  thf  (fembling  lyre, 
No  Tulgai  thoughts,  no  vulgar  theme. 

Shall  (he  bold  Muse  inspire. 
*Ti8  immorlality  *s  her  aim  j 

Sublime  she  mounts  the  skies. 
She  climbs  the  steep  ascent  to  fisune, 
Nor  ever  shall  want  force  to  rise, 
White  she  supports  her  flight  with  Stanhope's  name. 
What  though  m^estic  Milton  stands  alone 

Inimitably  great ! 
Bow  low,  ye  bards,  at  his  exalted  throne, 

And  lay  your  Ialx>urs  at  his  feet ; 
Capacious  soul !  whose  boundless  thoughts  survey 
Heaven,  Hell,  earth,  sea ;  i 

Lo  !  where  th'  embattled  gods  appear. 
The  mountains  from  their  seats  they  tear, 
And  shake  th'  empyreal  Heavens  with  impious  war. 
Yet,  nor  shall  Milton's  ghost  repine 
At  all  the  honours  we  b^ow 
On  Addison's  deserving  brow. 
By  whom  convinc'd,   we  own  his  work  divine. 
Whose  skilful  pen  has  done  his  merit  right. 
And  set  the  jewel  in  a  fairer  light 
Enliven'd  by  his  bright  EsSay 
Each  flowery  scene  appears  more  gay. 
New  beauties  spring  in  Eden's  fertile  groves 
And  by  his  culture  Paradise  improves. 
Garth,  by  Apollo  doubly  bless'd. 
Is  hy  the  god  entire  possess'd  : 

Age,  unwilling  to^depart, 
Begs  life  from  his  prevailing  skill ; 

Youth,  reviving  from  his  art^ 
Borrows  its  charms  and  power  to  kill : 
But  when  the  patriot's  iijur'd  fame,  * 
His  country's  honour,  or  his  friends, 
A  more  extensive  bounty  claim. 
With  joy  the  ready  Muse  attends. 
Immortal  honours  she  bestows, 
A  gift  the  Muse  alone  can  give ; 
She  crowns  the  glorious  victor's  brows. 
And  bids  expiring  Virtue  Uve. 
K]rniphs  yet  unborn  shall  melt  with  amorous  llames 
That  Congreve's  lays  inspire  ; 
And  Philips  warm  the  gentle  ^waios 

To  love  and  soft  desire. 
Ah  !  shun,  yeiair,the  dangerous  founds, 
Alas  !  each  moving  accent  wounds, 
The  sparks  conceal'd  revive  again, 
The  jnod  restor'd  resumes  his  reign. 
In  IdUing  jo>'s  and  pleasing  pain.       * 


Hius  does  each  bard  in  diftrent  gaib  tppmr. 
Each  Muse  has  her  peculiar  air. 
And  in  propriety  of  dress  becomes  more  £ur  ^ 
To  each,  impartial  Providence 

Well-chosen  gifts  bestows. 
He  varies  his  munificence. 
And  in  divided  streams  the  heavenly  blaning  flows. 

If  we  look  back  on  ages  past  and  gone. 

When  in&nt  Time  his  race  begun. 
The  distant  view  still  lessens  to  our  sight, 
Obscur'd  in  clouds,  and  veil'd  in  shades  of  nig&f 
The  Muse  alone  can  the  dark  scenes  display, 
Enlarge  the  prospect,  and  disclose  the  day. 
Tb  she  the  records  of  times  past  explores. 
And  the  dead  hero  to  new  life  restores. 
To  the  brave  man  who  for  his  country  died. 
Erects  a  lasting  pyramid, 
Supports  his  dignity  and  fame. 
When  mouldering  pillars  drop  his  name. 
In  full  proportion  leads  her  warrior  forth. 

Discovers  his  neglected  worth. 
Brightens  his  deeds,  by  envioos  rust  o'ercast, 
T*  improve  the  present  age,  and  vmdicate  the  past* 
Did  not  the  Muse  our  crying  wrongs  repeat, 
As^es  to  Come  ho  more  should  know 
Of  Lewis  by  oppression  great 

Than  we  of  Nimrod  now : 
The  meteor  should  but  blaze  and  die, 
DeprivM  of  the  reward  of  endless  infamy. 
Ev'n  that  brave  chief,  who  set  the  nations  fr«e. 
The  greatest  name  the  world  can  boast, 
Without  the  Muse's  aid,  shall  be 
Sunk  in  the  tide  of  time,  and  in  oblivion  lost. 
The  sculptor's  hand  may  make  the  marble  live. 
Or  the  bold  pencil  trace 
The  wonders  of  that  lovely  face. 
Where  every  charm,  and  e%'ery  grace. 
That  man  can  wish,  or  Heaven  can  give. 
In  happy  tfnion  join'd,  confess 
The  hero  bom  to  conquer,  and  to  bless^ 
Yet  vain,  alas  !  is  every  art. 
Till  the  great  work  the  Muse  complete. 
And  everlasting  Fame  impart. 
That  soars  aloft,  above  the  reach  of  Fate. 
Hail,  happy  bard  !  on  whom  the  gods  bestow 
A  genius  equal  to  the  vast  design. 
Whose  thoughts  sublime  in  easy  numbers  flow. 
While  Mariborough's  Virtues  animate  each  lm& 
How  shall  our  trembling  souls  survey 
TTie  horrours  of  each  bloddy  day ; 
The  wreaking  carnage  of  the  plain 
Encumber'd  with  the  mighty  slain, 
The  strange  variety  of  death. 
And  the  sad  murmurs  of  departing  breath  ? 
Scamander's  streams  shall  yield  to  Danube's  flood. 
To  the  dark  bosom  of  the  deep  pursued 
By  fiercer  flames,  and  stain'd  with  nobler  blood. 
The  gods  shall  arm  on  cither  side, 
Th'  important  quarrel  to  deckle ; 
The  grand  event  embroil  the  realms  above. 
And  Faction  revel  in  the  court  of  Jove ; 

While  Heaven,  and  earth,  and  sea,  and  air. 
Shall  feel  the  mighty  shock  and  labour  of  the  war. 

Virtue  conceal'd  obscurely  dies. 

Lost  in  the  mean  disguise 
Of  abject  sloth,  depressed,  unknown. 
Rough  m  its  native  bed  the  unwrotight  diamond  lies| 
Till  chance,  or  art,  reveal  its  worth 
And  call  its  latent  glories  forth  ; 


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TO  DR.  MACKENZIE. 


Bat  when  its  radSont  charrat  are  viewed. 
Becomes  the  idol  of  the  crowd, 
And  adds  new  lustre  tQ  the  monarch's  crown. 
What  British  harp  can  lie  unstniog. 
When  Stanhope's  fame  demands  a  wng  ? 
Upwrarxl,  ye  Muses,  take  your  wanton  fll^t, 
Tone  every  I  \  re  to  Stanhope's  praise,  . 
Eacert  your  most  triumphant  Ia3r8, 
Mor  sofier  such  heroic  deeds  to  sink  in  endless 
The  goldoi  Tagus  shall  forget  to  flow, 
Jknd  Ebro  leave  its  cbazmel  dry. 
Ere  Stanhope's  name  to  time  shall  bpw. 
And  lost  in  dark  oblivion  lie. 
Where  shall  the  Muse  begin  her  airy  flight ; 
Where  first  direct  her  dubious  way  j 
Lost  in  variety  of  light,  « 

And  dazzled  in  excess  of  day ;       * 
Wisdom  and  valour,  probity  and  truth. 
At  once  upon  the  labouring  fancy  throng. 
The  cODd^ct  of  old  age,  the'  fire  of  youth, 
Untol  in  one  breast  perplex  the  poet's  song. 
Those  virtues  which  dispers'd  andtare 
The  gods  too  thriftily  bestow'd. 
And  scatter'd  to  amuse  the  crowd. 
When  furmer  heroes  were  their  care  ; 
T*  exert  at  once  their  power  divine. 
In  thee,  brave  chief,  collected  shine. 
So  from  eac^  lovely  blooming  &ce 
Th'  ambitious  artist  stole  a  grace. 
When  in  one  finish'd  piece  he  strove 
To  paint  th'  all-glorious  queen  of  love. 
Thy  provident  unbiassed  mind. 
Knowing  in  arts  of  peace  and  war. 
With  inde^tigable  care, 
Lal:oars  the  good  of  human  kind : 
Siect  'n  dangers,  modest  in  success^ 
Corruption's  everlasting  bane, 
Where  injur'd  merit  finds  redress, 
iind  worthless  villains  wait  in  vain. 
Though  fawning  knaves  besiege  thy  gate. 
And  court  the  honed  man  they  hate ; 
Thy  steady  virtue  charges  through, 
Alike  unerring  to  subdue. 
As  when  on  Almanara's  plain  the  scatter'd  squa- 
drons flew. 
Vain  are  th'  attacks  of  force  or  art. 
Where  Cxsar*s  arm  defends  a  Cato's  heart 
*  Oh !  could  thy  generoi\s  soul  dispense 
Tfirough  this  unrighteous  age  its  sacred  influence ; 
Gould  the  base  crowd  from  thy  example  learn 
To  trample  on  their  impious  gifts  with  scorii. 
With  shame  confounded  to  behold 
A  nation  for  a  trifle  sold,  * 
I>eieGted  senates  should  no  more 
Their  champion's  absence  mourn. 
Contending  boroughs  should  thy  name  return ; 
Thy  bold  Philippics  should  restore 
Britannia's  wealth,  and  power,  and  fame, 
Kor  Ub^rty  be  deem'd  an  empty  name, 
While  tyrants  trembled  on  a  foreign  shore. 
No  swelling  titles,  pomp,  and  state. 
The  trapphigs  of  a  magistrate, 
Cm  dignify  a  slave,  or  make  a  traitor  great. 
For,  careleBB  of  external  show. 
Sage  Natiire  dk^tes  whom  f  obey. 
And  we  the  ready  homage  pay. 
Which  to  superior  gifts  we  owe. 
Iferit  like  thine  repols'd  an  empire  gaim^ 
And  virtoe^  thoiudk  negtected,  xeigos. 


193 


The  wretch  is  kidigent  and  poor. 
Who  brooding  sits  o'er  hij?.  ill-gotten  store ; 
Trembling  with  guilt,  and  haunted  by  his  sin. 

He  feels  the  rigid  judge,  within. 
But  they  alone  are  blessM  who  wisely  know 
T*  enjoy  the  little  which  the  gods  bestow. 

Proud  o^their  glorbus  wants,  disdain 

To  barter  honesty  for  gain  j 
'  No  other  ill  but  shame  they  fear, 

And  scorn  to  purchase  life  too  dear : 

Profusely  lavish  of  ^ir  blood, 

Pdr  their  dear  friends  or  country's  good. 
If  Britam  conquer,  can  rejoice  in  death, 
And  in  triumphant  shouts  resign  their  breath. 


TO  DR.  MACKENZIE. 

O  motf,  whose  penetrating  mind. 
Whose  heart  benevolent,  and  kind. 
Is  ever  present  in  distress ; 
Glad  to  preserve,  and  proud  to  bless : 
Oh !  leave  not  Arden's  faithful  grove. 
On  Caledonian  hills  to  rove. 
But  hear  our  fond  united  prayer. 
Nor  force  a  county  to  despair. 

Let  homicides  in  }Varwick-lane 
With  hecatombs  of  victims  slain. 
Butcher  for  knighthood,  and  for  gain  ; 
While  thou  pursu'st  a  nobler  aim. 
Declining  intertst  for  iame. 
Wheree'er  thy  Maker's  image  dwells. 
In  gilded  roo^,  or  smoky  cells. 
The  same  thy  zeal :  o'erjey'd  to  sava 
Thy  fellow-creature  fyom  the  grave : 
For  well  thy  soul  can  understand 
The  poor  man's  call  is  God's  command  j  ' 
No  fhiil,  no  transient  good,  his  fee  ; 
But  Heaven,  and  bless'd  eternity. 
Nor  are  thy  labourn  here  in  vain. 
The  pleasure  over-pays  the  pain. 
True  happmess  (if  understood) 
Consists  alone,  in  doing  good ; 
Speak»  all  ye  wise,  can  God  bestow^ 
Or  man  a  greater  pleasure  know  ?^ 
See  where  the  grati^ful  father  bows  f 
His  tears  confess  how  much  he  ow^ : 
His  son,  the  darling  of  his  heart, 
Restor'd  by  your  prevailing  art ; 
His  house,  his  name,  redeem 'd  by  you. 
His  ancient  honours  blcx>m  anew. 
But  oh  !  what  idioms  can  express 
TTie  vast  transeendent  happiness 
The  fhithful  husband  feels  ?  his  wife^ 
His  better  half,  recall'd  to  life  i 
See,  with  whit  rapture !  see  "him  view 
The  shatter'd  frame  rebuilt  by  you  \ 
See  health  rekindling  in  her  eyes  ! 
See  batfled  Death  give  up  his  prize  I 
Tell  me,  my  friend,  canst  thou  forbear. 
In  this  gay  scene  to  claim  a  share } 
Does  not  thy  blood  more  swiftly  flow  ; 
Thy  heart  with  secret  transports  glow  > 
H^hh,  life,  by  Heaven's  indulgence  sent. 
And  thou  the  glorious  instrument ! 
Safe  In  thy  art,  no  ills  we  fear, 
Thy  hand  shall  plant  £l3rsium  here; 
Pale  Sickness  shall  thy  triumphs  own. 
And  ruddy  He^dth  exalt  her  throne. 


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194 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


The  fair,  renewed  in  all  her  charms, 
Shall  fly  to  thy  protecting  arms 
With  gracious  smiles  repay  thy  care. 
And  leave  her  lovers  in  despair. 
While  multitudes  applaud  and  bless 
Their  great  asylum  in  distress. 
My  humble  Muse,  among  the  crowd,* 
lier  joyful  Pceans  sings  aloud. 
Could  I  but  with  MsDonian  flight 
JSublimely  soar  through  fields  of  light, 
Above  the  stars  thy  name  should  shine, 
Kor  g^reat  Machaon's  rival  thine  ! 
But  father  Phoebus,  who  has  done 
So  much  for  thee,  bis  favourite  son. 
His  other  gifts  on  me  bestows 
With  partial  hands,  nor  hears  my  vows : 
Oh  !  let  a  grateful  heart  supply. 
What  the  penurious  powers  deny ! 


THE  WIFE. 


Imperial  Jove  (as  poets  song  of  old) 
Was  coupled  to  a  more  imperial  scofd, 

A  jealous,  termagant,  insulting  jade, 

And  more  observant  than  a  withered  maid : 

She  watched  his  waters  with  unweary*d  eyes 

And  chas'd  the  god  through  every  sly  disguise, 

Out-brav'd  bb  thunder  with  her  louder  voice. 

And  shook  the  pqles  with  everlasting  noise. 

At  midnight  rc\'el9  when  the  gossips  met. 

He  was  tlie  theme  of  their  eternal  chat : 

This  ask'd  what  form  great  iove  would  next  devise, 

.  Aud  when  his  godsbip  would  again  Taurise  ? 
That  hinted  at  the  wanton  life  ho  led 
With  Leda,  and  with  baby  Ganymede : 
Scandals  and  lies  went  merrily  about, 
With  heavenly  lambs-wool,  and  nectarial  stoat 

Home  she  returns  erect  with  lui»t  and  pride. 

At  bed  and  board  alike  unsatisfy 'd ; 

The  ben-peck'd  god  her  angry  presence  flies. 

Or  jit  her  feet  the  passive  thunderer  lies. 

In  vain  :  still  more  she  raves,  still  more  she  storms. 

And  Heaven's  high  vaults  echo  her  loud  alarms : 

To  Bacchus,  merry  blade,  the  god  repairs. 

To  drown  in  nectar  his  domestic  cares. 

The  fury  thither  too  pursues  the  chase. 

Palls  the  rich  juice,  and  poisons  every  glass ; 

Wine,  that  makes  cowards  brave,  the  dying  strong, 

Is  a  poor  cordial  'gainst  a  woman's  tongue. 

To  arms !  to  arms  !  th'  impetuous  fury  cries, 

llie  jolly  god  th*  impending  ruin  flies : 

His  trembling  timers  hide  their  fearful  heads, 

Scar'd  at  a  fierceness  which  their  own  exceeds  j ' 

Bottles  aloft,  like  burstmg  bombs,  resound  ; 

And,  smoking,  spout  their  liquid  ruin  round ; 

like  storms  of  hail  the  scattered  fragnoents  fly, 

BruisM  bowls  and  broken  glass  obscure  the  sky  j^ 

Tables  and  chairs,  and  stools,  together  huri'd, 

Witli  universal  wreck  fright  all  tlie  nether  world. 

Suoli  was  the  clamour,  such  great  Jove's  surprise^ 

When  by  gigantic  hands  the  mountains  rise. 

To  wrest  his  thunder,  and  invade  the  skies. 

W>o  wonld  not  envy  Jove  eternal  life. 

And  wish  for  godhead  clogg'd  with  such  a  wife  ? 

If  e'er  it  be  my  wayward  fiite  to  wed. 

Avert,  ye  powers,  a  Juno  from  my  bed ! 

l^t  her  be  foolish,  ugly,  crooked,  old, 

L/Ct  her  be  whore,  or  any  thing  but  scold ! 


With prairers  incessant fbr my  kAI crate 

The  (^uet  cuckold;  not  the  hen-peck'd  slave; 

Or  give  me  peace  od  Earth,  qr  give  it  m  the  fgn^m  f 


IK  MBMOftY  OF  TBI 

REV,  MIL  MOORE. 

Op  humble  birth,  but  of  more  humble  mind. 
By  learning  much,  by  virtue  more  lefin'd^ 
A  fair  and  equal  friend  to  all  mankind. 
Parties  and  sects,  by  fierce  divisions  torn. 
Forget  their  hatrad,  and  consent  tomooni; 
Their  hearts  unite  in  undissemUed  woe^ 
And  in  one  common  stream  their  torrowi  flow:* 
Each  part  Hi  life  with  eoual  grace  he  bote, 
ObUging  to  the  rich,  a  nither  to  the  poor. 
From  sinful  riots  silently  he  fled, 
Bnt  came  unbidden  to  the  sick  man's  bed. 
Manners  and  men  he  knew,  and  when  to  pietf 
The  poor  man's  cause,  and  plead  it  with  lUCCfHi 
No  pienal  laws  he  stretch'd,  but  won  by  love 
His  hearers'  hearts,  unwilling  to  reprove. 
When  sour  rebukes  and  harsher  langoage  fiul» 
Could  with  a  lucky  jest,'  or  merry  tale. 
O'er  stubborn  souls  in  Virtoe's  cause  prmiL 
Whene'er  he  preachM,  the  throng  attentive  ^ooig 
Feasted  with  manna,  and  celestial  food : 
He  taught  them  how  to  live,  and  how  to  Sit ; 
Nor  did  his  actions  give  his  words  the  lye. 

Go  happy  soul !  sublimely  take  thy  fli{^ 
Through  fields  of  ether,  m  long  tracks  of  light. 
The  guest  of  angels;  range  firom  ptaoe  to  plM^ 
And  view  thy  great  Redeemer  fece  to  fece. 

Just  God !  eternal  source  of  power  and  love  I 
Whom  we  lament  on  Earth,  give  us  above  ; 
Oh  !  g^rant  us  our  companion  and  our  friend. 
In  bliss  without  alloy,  and  without  end ! 


EPITAPH 

UPON  HUGH  LUMBia,  BUSBAKDMAM. 

In  Cottages  and  homely  cells. 
True  Piety  neglected  dwells : 
Till  call'd  to  Heaven,  her  native  seat. 
Where  the  good  man  alone  is  great : 
'TIS  then  this  humble  dust  shall  rise. 
And  view  his  Judge  with  jojrful  eyes ; 
While  Iiaughty  tyrants  shrink  afiraid. 
And  call  the  mountains  to  theur  aid. 


THE  HIP. 

TO  WILLIAM    COLMOaS,   ESQ.       TBS  DAT  AFTIK  < 
GREAT  METBOR,  IN  II ABC H   1715. 

This  dismal  mom,  when  east  windB  \Aow, 

And  every  languid  pulse  beats  low, 

With  face  most  sorrowfully  grim. 

And  head  oppress'd  with  wind  and  whim, 

Grave  as  an  owl,  and  just  as  witty. 

To  thee  I  twang  my  doleful  ditty ; 

And  in  mine  own  dull  rhymes  would  find 

Music  to  soothe  my  restless  mind : 

But  oh !  my  friend,  I  sing  in  vain. 

No  doggrel  can  relieve  my  pain  ; 

Since  thuu  art  gone  iny  heart's  desire, 

Aod  Heaven^  and  Earthy  and  Sea  cco^piie^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC, 


^o 


TftE  BOWUNG-GREE^f. 


195 


make  my  miseries  compleat; 
Where  shall  a  wretched  Hip  retreat  ? 
What  shall  a  droopmg  mortal  do. 
Who  pines  for  sonshiue  and  for  yon  ? 
If  in  the  dark  alcove  1  dream, 
And  yon,  or  Phillis,  is  my  theme, 
While  love  or  friendship  warm  my  soul. 
My  shins  are  burning  to  a  coal. 
V  rais'd  to  speculations  high, 
I  gaze  the  stars  and  spangled  sky. 
With  heart  devout  and  wondering  eye, 
Amaz*d  1  view  strange  globes  of  ligbt^ 
Meteors  with  horrid  liistre  bright, 
My  guilty  trembling  soul  affright. 
To  mother  Earth's  prolttic  bed. 
Pensive  I  stoop  my  giddy  head. 
Prom  thence  too  all  my  hopes  are  fled. 
Kor  flowers,  nor  grass,  nor  shrubs  aftpear. 
To  deck  the  smiling  hifant  year  ; 
Bat  blasts  my  tender  blosioms  wound, 
And  desolation  reigns  around. 
If  sea-ward  my  dark  thoughts  I  bend, 
O !  where  will  my  misfortunes  end  ? 
My  loyal  sbul  distracted  meets 
A^ainted  dukes,  and  Spanish  fleets.  '    .     ^ 
Thus  jarring  elements  unite; 
Pregnant  whh  wrongs,  and  arm^d  with  spite^  ^ 
Successive  mischiefs  every  hour 
On  my  devoted  head  they  pour. 
Whatever  I  do,  wheree*er  I  go, 
lis  still  an  eixlless  scene  of  woe. 
lis  thus  disconsolate  I  mourn, 
I  fiiint,  I  die,  till  thy  return : 
Till  thy  brisk  wit,  and  humorous  vein. 
Restore  me  to  mjrself  again. 
Let  others  vainly  seek  V)r  ease. 
From  (Saleri  and  Hippocrates, 
I  scorn  such  nauseous  aids  as  tbese. 
Haste  then,  my  dear,  unbrib'd  attend. 
The  best  elixir  is  a  friend. 


TO  A  LADY, 

yino  MADE  MB  A  niESEMT  OP  A  SILVIft  PSll. 

Fah-omk,  accept  the  thanks  I  owe, 
Tb  all  a  grateml  heart  can  do. 
If  e'er  my  sonl  the  Muse  inspire 
With  raptures  and  poetic  fire. 
Your  kind  munificence  Til  praise. 
To  yoa  a  thousand  altars  raise : 
4ove  shall  descend  in  goi^  n  rain. 
Or  die  a  swan;  but  sing  in  vain. 
Phoebus  the  witty  and  the  gay,, 
Shall  quit  the  chariot  of  the  day. 
To  bask  in  your  superior  my. 
Your  charms  shall  every  god  subdue. 
And  every  goddess  envy  you. 
Add  this  but  to  your  bounty's  store. 
This  one  great  boon,  I  ask  no  more : 
fl  gracious  nymph,  be  kind  as  fair, 
Uor  with  disdain  neglect  my  prayer. 
So  shall  your  goodness  be  confes^'d, 
Jbi4  1  your  slave  entirely  bless'd : 
lliis  pen  no  vulgar  theme  shall  stain. 
The  noblest  palm  your  gift  shall  gain, 
To  write  to  you,  nor  write  in  vam. 

'  4b  nnrMkn  (h»  Spsm  was  Umq  oq^ecM. 


rKSSBMTINO  TO  A  LAnV  A  WrflTB   KOSl  AiTD  A  tSD  WH 
THE  TENTH  OF  JUNE. 

If  this  pale  rose  ofieiid  3rour  sight, 

It  in  your  bosom  wear ; 
Twill  bli«5h  to  find  itself  less  white. 

And  turn  Lancastrian  there. 
But,  Celia,  should  the  red  be  chose, 

With  gay  vermilion  bright ; 
.    Twould  sicken  at  each  blush  that  glows, 

And  in  despair  turn  white. 
Let  politicians  idly  prate, 

Their  Babels  build  in  vain  ; 
As  unoontrolable  as  Fate, 

Imperial  Love  shall  reign. 
Each  haughty  fiu^n  shall  obey 

And  AfVhigs  and  Tories  join. 
Submit  to  your  despotic  sway. 

Confess  your  right  divine. 
Yet  this,  my  gracious  monarch,  own, 

They're  tyrants  that  oppress ; 
Tis  mercy  must  support  your  throne. 

And  'tis  like  Heaven  to  bless. 


THE  BOfFLING-GREEK. 

WasRS  feir  Sabrina's  wandering  currents  flow, 
A  large  smooth  plain  extends  its  verdant  brow. 
Here  every  mom  while  fruitful  vapours  feed 
The  swellmg  blade,  and  bless  the  smoaking  mead, 
A  cruel  tyrant  reigns :  like  Time,  the  swain 
Whets  his  unrighteous  scythe,  and  shaves  the  plain* 
Beneath  each  stroke  the  peeping  flowers  decays 
And  all  th'  unripen'd  crop  is  swept  away. 
The  heavy  roller  next  he  tugs  along, 
Whifs  his  shbrt  pipe,  or  roars  a  rural  song. 
With  curious  eye  then  the  press'd  turf  he  views. 
And  every  rising  prominence  subdues. 
.     Now  when  each  craving  stomach  was  well-stor'd 
And  Church  and  King  had  travell'd  round  the  boaid| 
Hither  at  Fortune's  shrine  to  pay  then*  court. 
With  eager  hopes  the  motley  tribe  resort ; 
Attomies  spruce,  in  their  pUte-buttou'd  frocks. 
And  rosy  parsons,  fat,  awl  orthodox : 
Of  every  sect,  whigs,  papists,  and  high-flyers, 
Comutcx]  aldermen,  and  hen  peeked  squires : 
Fox-hunters,  quacks,  scribblers  in  verse  and  prose. 
And  half-pay  captains,  and  half-witted  beaux : 
On  the  green  cirque  the  ready  racers  stand, 
Dispos'd  in  pairs,  and  tempt  the  bowler's  hand  r 
Each  polish'd  sphere  does  his  round  brother  own. 
The  twms  distinguish'd  by  their  marks  are  known* 
As  the  strong  rein  guides  the  well-manag'd  horse. 
Here  weighty  lead  iniiis'd  directs  their  course. 
These  in  the  ready  road  drive  on  with  speed 
But  those  in  crooked  paths  more  artfully  succeeds' 
So  the  tall  ship  that  makes  some  dangerous  bay. 
With  a  sMe  wind  obliqtkely  slopes  her  way, 
Lo !  there  the  silver  tumbler  fot'd  on  high. 
The  victor's  prize,  inviting  every  eye  ! 
The  champions,  or  consent,  or  chance  divide. 
While  each  man  thinks  his  own  the  surer  side, 
And  the  jack  leads,  the  skilful  bowler's  guide. 

Bendo  strip'd  first,  from  foreign  coasts  be  btoughjb 
A  chaos  of  receipts,  and  anarchy  of  thought ; 
Where  the  tumultuous  whims  to  friction  prone^ 
StiU  jutUed  mvQUch  R«aicm  from  her  ^hiVi^ ; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


^96 


80MERVILE  S  POEMS. 


More  dUQ^roas  than  the  porcopinels  his  qaill, 
Inur'd  toVlaughter,  and  secure  to  kill. 
Let  hx)se,  just  Heaven !  each  vinilent  disease. 
But  save  us  firom  such  murderers  as-these : 
MS^ht  Bendo  lire  but  half  a  patriarch's  age» 
Tfa*'  unpeopled  world  would  sink  beneath  his  rage : 
Kbrneed,  t'  appease  the  just  Creator's  ire, 
A  second  deluge  or  consuming  fire. 
He  winks  one  eye,  and  knits  his  brow  serere, 
Tben  from  his  hand  lancbes  the  flying  sphere  | 
Oat  of  the  green  the  guiltless  wood  he  hurl'd, 
Swift  as  bis  patients  from  this  nether  world  : 
Then  grinn'd  malignant,  but  the  jocund  crowd 
Peride  his  senseless  rage,  and  shmt  aloud. 

Ntixt,  Zadoc,  tis  thy  turn,  imperious  priest ! 
Still  late  at  church,  but  early  at  a  feast 
No  turkej'-cock  appears  with  better  grace. 
His  garments  black,  vermilion  paints  his  face  ; 
His  wattles  hang  upon  his  stiflfenM  band. 
His  platter  feet  upon  the  trigger  stand, 
He  grasps  the  bowl  in  his  rough  brawny  hand. 
Then  squatting  down,  with  his  grey  gc^e  eyei 
He  takes  his  aim,  and  at  the  mark  it  flies.  ^ 
Zadoc  pursues,  and  wabbles  o'er  the  plain, 
But  shakes  his  strutting  paunch,  and  ambles  on  in 
For,  oh !  wide-erring  to  the  left  it  glides,       [vain ', 
The  inmate  lead  the  lighter  wood  misguides. 
He  sharp  reprooft  with  kind  entreaties  joins. 
Then  on  the  counter  side  with  pain  reclines. 
As  if  he  meant  to  regulate  its  course. 
By  power  attracti\'c,  and  magnetic  force: 
Now  almost  in  despair,  he  raves,  he  storms, 
Writhes  his  unwieldy  trunk  in  various  forms : 
Unhappy  Proteus  !  still  in  vain  he  tries 
A  thousand  shapes,  the  bow]  erroneous  flies. 
Deaf  to  his  prayers,  regardless  of  his  cries. 
His  pofllng  cheek*  with  rising  rage  inflame, 
And  all  his  sparkling  rubies  glow  with  shame. 

Beodo's  proud  }ieart,proof  against  Fortune's  frown, 
Besolvcs  once  more  to  make  the  prize  his  own : 
Cautious  he  plods,  surveying  all  the  green. 
And  measures  with  his  eye  the  space  between. 
But,  as  on  him  'twas  a  peculiar  curse, 
To  fid)  from  one  extreme  into  a  worse  ; 
Conscious  of  too  much  vigour,'  now  for  fear 
He  should  exceed,  at  hand  he  checks  the  sphere. 
Soon  as  he  found  its  languid  force  decay. 
And  the  too  weak  impression  die  away  ; 
Quick  after  it  he  skuds,  urges  behmd 
Step  after  step,  and  now,  with  anxious  mind. 
Hangs  oVr  the  bowl,  slow^reeping  an  the  plain. 
And  ehides  its  foint  efforts,  and  bawls  amain. 
Then  on  the  gu'dtless  green  the  bhime  to  lay. 
Curses  t\w  mountains  that  obstruct  hit  way; 
Brazens  it  out  with  an  audacious  hce. 
His  insolence  improving  by  disgrace. 

Zadoc,  who  now  with  three  black  mugs  had  cbecr'd 
His  drooping  heart,  and  his  sunk  spirits  rcar'd. 
Advances  to  the  trigg  with  solemn  pace. 
And  ruddy  Hope  sits  blooming  on  his  face. 
The  bowl  he  poisd,  with  pain  his  hams  he  bends. 
On  well -chose  ground  unto  the  mark  it  tends : 
Each  adverse  heart  pants  with  unusual  fear. 
With  joy  he  follows  the  propitious  sphere ; 
Alas !  liow  frail  is  every  mortal  scheme ! 
Wt»  build  on  sand,  our  happiness  a  dream. 
Bendo's  short  bowl  stops  the  proud  vic^or't  coune, 
Purioins  his  fame,  and  deadens  all  its  force. 
At  BeiKk)  from  each  comer  of  his  eyes 
He^darts  maligoant  rays,  thea  muttering  fliof 


Into  the  bower ;  there,  panfciDg  and  half  den^ 
In  thick  mundungus  douds  he  hides  his  bead. 

Muse,  raise  thy  voice,  to  win  the  gkxious  prill^ 
Bid  all  the  fury  of  the  battle  rise : 
These  but  the  light^um'd  champiom  of  the  fields 
See  Qriper  there !  a  veteran  well  skill'd; 
This  aUe  pilot  knows  to  steer  a  cause 
ThQoogh  all  the  rocks  and.  shallows  of  the  laws « 
Or  if  tis  wreck'd,  his  trembling  client  saves 
On  the  next  plank,  and  disappomts  the  waveiL 
In  this,  at  least,  all  histories  agree. 
That,  though  he  lost  his  cause,  he  sav'd  his  fee;. 
When  the  hi  client  looks  m  jovial  pli^it. 
How  complaisant  the  man !  ehch  point  how  i^jbif 
But  if  th'  abandoned  orphan  puts  his  case. 
And  Poverty  sits  shrinking  on  his  face. 
How  like  a  cur  he  snarls !  when  at  the  door 
For  broken  scraps  he  quarrels  with  the  poor* 
The  farmer's  oracle,  when  rent-day  's  near. 
And  landlords,  by  forbearance,  are  severe; 
\Vhen  huntsmen  trespass,  or  his  neighbour's  twin^ 
Or  tatter'd  crape  extorts  byrigfat  divine. 
Him  all  the  rich  their  contrioutions  pay. 
Him  all  the  poor  with  aching  hearts  obey : 
He  in  his  swanskm  doublet  struts  along, 
Now  begs,  and  now  rebukes,  the  presnng  fhroof. 
A  passage  clear'd,  he  takes  his  aim  #ith  care. 
And  gently  firom  his  hand  lets  loose  the  sphere  : 
Smooth  as  a  swallow  o'er  the  plain  it  flies. 
While  he  pursues  its  track  with  eager  eyes  ; 
Its  hopeful  course  approved,  he  shouts  aloud. 
Claps  both  his  hands,  andjustlesthroughtheciow^ 
Hovering  a  while,  soon  at  the  mark  it  stood. 
Hung  o'er  inclin'd,  and  fondly  kiss'd  the  wood^ 
Loud  is  th'  applause  of  every  bettmg  friend. 
And  peals  of  clamorous  joy  the  concave  rend* 
But  in  each  hostile  fisce,  a  dismal  gloom 
Appears,  the  sad  presage  of  loss  to  come  ; 
'Mong  these,  Trebellius,  with  a  mournful  air 
Of  lived  hue  Just  dying  with  de^iair, 
ShuflSes  about,  skrews  his  cbop-follen  foce. 
And  no  whipp'd  giggso  often  shifts  his  place. 
Then  gives  his  sage  advice  with  wondroos-ddl^ 
Which  no  man  ever  heeds,  or  ever  will : 
Yet  he  persists,  instructing  to  confound. 
And  with  his  cane  points  out  the  dubious  gronnA* 

Strong  Nimrod  ngw,  fresh  as  the  rising  dawB 
Appears,  his  sinewy  limbs,  and  solid  brawn. 
The  ga/ing  crowd  admires.    He  nor  in  coorts 
Delights,  nor  pompous  balls ;  but  rural  sporti 
Are  his  soul's  joy.    At  the  hom'siMisk  alarms 
He  shakes  th'  unwilling  Phillis  from  his  anns^ 
Mounts  with  the  Sun,  he^  his  hold  career. 
To  chase  the  wily  fox,  or  rambling  deer. 
.So  Hercules,  by  Juno*s  dread  command. 
From  savage  beasts  and  monsters  freed  the  land. 
Hark !  from  the  covert  of  yon  gloomy  brak^ 
Harmoqious  thunder  rolls,  the  forests  shake  : 
Men,  boys,  and  dogs,  nnpatient  for  the  ehaae. 
Tumultuous  transports  flush  in  every  fece  ; 
With  ears  erect  the  courser  paws  the  ground. 
Hills,  vales,  and  Mkm  nxdcs,  with  cheering  erte 

resound: 
Drive  down  the  precipice  (brave  youths)  with  ipeed^ 
Boundo'ertheriverbanks,and  smoke  along  the  metd^ 
But  whither  would  the  devious  Muse  pursue 
The  pleasing  theme,  and  my  past  joys  renew  ^ 
Another  labour  now  demands  thy  song, 
Stretoh'd  in  two  ranks,  behold  th*  etpo^inc  thl0ii|^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  LAMENTATION  OF  DAVID. 


*9r 


JteMoModpdMUieiplierc  hStmnlkedmr 
Bick  Gke  an  arroir  in  the  Parthian  yew,       (ileir: 
TIkb  laDchM  the  whirling  globe,  and  fall  as  swiftiC 
Bowb  dash'd  on  bowls  oonfoonded  all  the  plain. 
Safe  stood  the  foe,  wcU-coTer'd  by  his  train. 
AsMiulted  tyrants  thns  their  guard  defends, 
Eacaping  Irjr  the  rain  of  their  friends. 
But  DOW,  he  stands  eKpos*d,  their  ofder  broke. 
And  seems  to  dread  the  next  decisrre  stroke. 
So  at  some  bloody  siege,  the  ponderous  ball 
Batten  with  ceaseless  rage  the  crambling  wall, 
(A  breach  onee  made)  soon  galls  the  naked  town, 
Kiots  in  Mood,  and  heaps  on  heaps  are  thrown. 

Each  avenoe  thns  cleared,  with  aching  heart 
Griper  behek),  exerting  all  his  art ; 
Once  more  rnoltes  to  check  his  furious  foe, 
^kKk  np  the  passage,  and  elude  the  bkiw. 
With  cautious  hand,  and  with  lev  force,  he  threw 
The  well-pois'd  sphere,  that  gently  circling  flew^ 
But  stopping  short,  coTer*d  the  mark  from  view. 
So  little  Tenoer  on  the  well-fought  field. 
Securely  skulk'd  behind  his  brother's  shield. 

Nimiod,  m  dangers  bcdd,  irtiose  heart  elate, 
Kor  courted  Fbrtune's  smiles,  nor  fear'd  her  hate, 
Perplex'd,  but  not  discourag'd,  walk*d  around, 
With  curiousejre  examined  all  the  ground ; 
Not  the  least  opening  in  the  firont  was  found. 
Sideway  he  leans,  declining  to  the  right. 
And  mukB  his  way,  and  moderates  his  might 
Smootb-gUding  o*er  the  pl«n,  th*  obedient  sphere 
Held  on  its  dubious  road,  whUe  hope  and  fear 
Aheraate  ebb*d  and  flowed  in  every  breast : 
Kow  rolling  nearer  to  the  mark  it  press*d ; 
Thai  chang'd  its  coorse,  by  the  strong  biass  rein'd, 
And  on  the  foe  discharged  the  force  that  yet  remained. 
Smart  was  the  stroke,  away  the  rival  fled. 
Hie  bold  intruder  triumph*d  in  his  stead. 

Victorious  Nimrod  seiz*d  the  glittering  prise, 
Shoutsof  outrageous  joy  invade  the  skies; 
Hands,  tongues,  and  caps,  exalt  the  victor's  fame, 
$abrina's  banks  return  him  loud  acclaim. 


LAMENTATION  OF  DAVID 

Of  XE  SA0L  AND  JONATHAN. 

PtosTBATC  on  earth  the  bleeding  warrior  lies. 
And  IsraePs  beauty  on  the  mountains  dies ; 
How  are  the  mighty  fallen ! 
Hush'd  be  my, sorrows,  gently  feU  my  tears. 
Lest  my  sad  tale  should  reach  the  aliens  cars : 
Bkl  Fame  be  dumb,  and  tremble  to  proclaim 
In  heathen  Gath,  or  Ascalon,  our  shame ; 
Lest  proud  Philistaa,  lest  oAr  haughty  foe. 
With  impious  scorn  insult  our  solemn  woe. 

O  Gilboa !  ye  hills  aspiring  high. 
The  last  sad  scenS  of  Isniel's  tragedjr : 
No  fettening  dews  be  on  thy  lawns  distilled, 
Ko  kindly  showers  refresh  ^e  thirsty  field  ; 
Ko  halbw'd  fruits  thy  barren  soil  shall  raise, 
Ko  spotless  kids  that  on  our  altars  blaze ; 
Lonc»ome  and  wild  shall  thy  bleak  summits  rile, 
Accursed  by  men,  and  hateful  to  the  skies. 
On  thee  the  shields  of  mighty  warriors  lay, 
Thi  ibiekl  of  Saolwaa  vilely  cast  away; 


llie  Lord's  anointed.  Said !  his  sacred  blood  i 
Distain'd  thy  brow,  and  swell'd  the  commor  piood. 
How  are  the  mighty  fallen ! 

Wheree*er  their  bands  the  royal  heroes  h  J^, 
The  combat  thickened,  and  the  mighty  bled    ; 
The  slaughter^  hosts  beneath  their  falchions  '  di<V 
And  wing'd  with  death  unerring  arrows  fly  | 
Unknowing  to  return,  still  urge  the  foe. 
As  Fbte  i^tiate  and  as  sure  the  blow. 
The  son,  who  next  his  conquering  fiither  fought,.'. ' 
Repeats  the  wonders  his  example  taught : 
Eager  his  sire's  illustrious  steps  to  trace. 
And  by  heroic  deeds  a^tert  his  race. 

The  royal  ei^le  thns  her  ripening  brood 
Trains  to  the  quarry,  ami  directs  to  blood : 
His  darling  thus,  the  forest  monarch  rears, 
A  firm  assodate  for  his  future  ware ; 
In  union  terrible,  they  seize  the  prey. 
The  mountains  tremble,  and  the  woods  obey. 

In  peace  united,  as  in  war  combined, 
Were  Jonathan's  and  Saul's  affections  join'd. 
Paternal  grace  with  filial  duty  vy'd. 
And  love  the  toot  of  nature  olosar  ty'd. 
Ev'n  Fate  relents,  reveres  the  sacred  band. 
And  imdivided  bids  their  friendship  stand.  . 
From  Earth  to  Heaven  enlafg'd,  their  joys  improve^ 
Still  fairer,  brighter  still  they  shine  above. 
Blest  in  a  long  eternity  of  love. 

Daughters  of  Israel,  o'er  the  ro3ral  um 
Wail  and  lament ;  the  king,  the  father,  mourn. 
Oh  !  now  at  least  indulge  a  pious  woe, 
'TIS  all  the  dead  receive,  the  living  can  bestow. 
Ca4  off  3rour  rich  attire  and  proud  array, 
Let  undisaembled  sorrows  cloud  the  day : 
Those  ornaments  victorious  Saul  bestowed. 
With  gold  your  necks,  your  robes  with  purple  glow'd : 
Quit  crowns,  and  garlands,  for  the  sable  weed, 
Tu  songs  of  triumph  let  dumb  grief  succeed 
Let  all  our  grateful  hearts  for  our  dead  patron  bked. 
How  are  the  mighty  &UenJ 

Though  thus  distressed,  though  thus  o'enrhelm'd 
with  grief, 
light  is  the  burthen  that  admits  relief; 
My  labouring  soul  superior  woes  oppress, 
Nor  rolling  time  can  heal,  nor  Fate  redress. 
Another  Saul  your  sorrows  can  remove. 
No  second  Jonathan  shall  bless  my  love, 
s  O  Jonathan  !  my  friend,  my  brother  dear ! 
Eyes,  stream  afresh,  and  call  forth  every  tear : 
Swell,  my  sad  ^eart,  each  faultering  pulse  beat  low, 
Down  sink  my  head  beneath  tiiis  weight  of  woe : 
Hear  my  laments,  ye  hills !  ye  woods,  rrtum 
My  ceaseless  groans;  with  me,  ye  turtles,  mourn! 
How  pleasant  hast  thou  been !  each  lovely  (?race. 
Each  3routhful  charm,  sate  blooming  on  thy  face : 
Joy  from  thine  eyes  m  radiant  glories  spnmg. 
And  manna  dropt  from  thy  persuasive  ^)ngue, 
WitoesB,greatHeax'n!  (froniyou  tbt>se  ardours  came) 
How  wonderful  his  (ove  !  the  kindest  dame 
Lov'd  not  like  him,  nor  felt  to  warm  a  flame. 
No  earthly  passion  to  such  height  aspires. 
And  seraphs  only  bum  with  purer  tires. 
In  vain,  while  honour  calls  to  glcffious  arms, 
And  Israel's  cause  the  pious  patriot  wanns  : 
In  vain,  while  deaths  promiscuous  fly  b^low, 
Nor  youth  can  bribe,  nor  virtue  ward  the  blow. 


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19S 


SOMERVILE'S  POESfS. 


YOUNG  LADY, 

WITH  THS  ILIAD  OP  HOMER  TRANSLATED. 

Go,  happy  Tolame,  to  the  (air  impart 
The  secret  wishes  of  a  wodnded  heart : 
Kind  advocate  !  exert  thy  utmost  zeal, 
Describe  my  passion,  and  my  woes  reveaL 
Oft  sbah  thou  kiss  that  hand  where  roses  btoom. 
And  the  white  lily  breathe  its  rich  perfume ; 
On  thee  her  eyes  shall  shine,  thy  leaves  employ 
Each  faculty,  and  sooth  her  soul  with  joy. 
Watch  the  soft  hour,  when  peaceful  silence  reigns, 
And  Philomel  alone  like  me  complains : 
When  envious  prudes  no  longer  haunt  t;^  Bur, 
But  end  a  day  of  calumny  m  prayer : 
O'er  Quarles  or  Bonyan  nod,  in  dreams  relent. 
Without  disguise  give  all  their  passions  vent. 
And  mourn  their  withered  channs,  and  youthful 

prime  mispent. 
"^en  by  the  waxen  taper's  glimmering  light, 
With  thee  jhe  studious  maid  shall  pass  the  night ; 
Shall  feel  her  heart  beat  quick  in  every  page. 
And  tremble  at  the  stem  Pelides*  rage : 
With  horrour  view  the  half-drawn  blade  appear,] 
And  the  desponding  tjrrant  pale  with  fear ; 
-To  calm  that  soul  untamed,  sage  Nestor  fails. 
And  ev^n  celestial  wisdom  scarce  prevails. 
Then  lead  her  to  the  margin  of  the  main. 
And  let  her  hear  th'  impatient  chief  complain  ; 
TossM  with  superior  storms,  on  the  bleak  shores 
He  lies,  and  louder  than  the  billows  roars. 
Kext  the  dr^  scenes  unfold  of  war  and  blood. 
Hector  in  arms  triumphant,  Greece  subdued ; 
The  partial  gods  who  with  their  foes  conspire. 
The  dead,  the  dying,  and  the  fleet  on  fire. 
Sot  tell,  oh  !  tell, the  cause  of  all  this  woe. 
The  fatal  source  from  whence  these  mischief  flow ; 
-Tell  her  twas  love  deny*d  the  hero  fir'd. 
Deprived  of  her  whom  most  his  heart  desired. 
Not  the  dire  vengeance  of  the  thundering  Jove, 
Can  match  the  boundless  rage  of  ti\iur  d  love. 
Stop  the  fierce  torrent,  and  its  billows  rise. 
Lay  waste  the  shores,  invade  both  earth  and  skies : 
Confine  it  not,  but  let  it  gently  flow. 
It  kindly  cheers  the  smiling  plains  below. 
And  everlasting  sweets  upon  its  borders  grow. 
*    To  Troy*8  proud  wall*  the  wondering  maid  convey. 
With  pointed  spires  and  golden  turrets  gay. 
The  work  of^gods :  thence  let  the  fair  behold 
The  court  of  Priam,  ricli  in  gems  and  gold ; 
His  numerous  sons,  his  queen^s  majestic  pride, 
Th'  aspiring  domes,  th'  apartments  stretching  wide. 
Where  on  their  looms  Sidonian  virgins  wrought. 
And  weav*d  the  battles  which  their  lovers  fought. 
Here  let  her  eyes  sur\'ey  thosejatal  charms. 
The  beauteous  prize  that  set  the  world  in  arms  ; 
Through  gazing  crowds,  bright  progeny  of  Jove, 
She  walks,  and  every  panting  heart  beats  love. 
£v'n  sapl^  age  new  blossoms  at  the  sight, 
'  And  views  the  fair  destroyer  with  delight : 
Beauty  *s  vastpower,hence  to  the  nymph  makeknoiWD, 
In  Helen's  triumphs  let  her  read  her  own ; 
"Hot  blame  her  slaves,  but  lay  the  guilt  on  Pate,  . 
And  pardon  failings  which  her  channs  create. 

Rash  bard  !  forbeAr,  nor  let  thy  flattering  Muse, 
With  pleasing  vilk)iis,  thy  food  heart  abuse  ; 


Vam  are  thy^  hopes  premnqpttioat,  TBift  tiqr  pnyec^ 
Bright  is  her  image,  and  divinely  fair :  * 

But  oh !  the  goddess  hi  thy  arms  is  fleetii^;  av. 
So  dreams  th'  ambitious  man  when  rich  Tiiay, 
Or  Burgundy,  refines  his  vulgar  cUy : 
The  white  rod  trembles  in  his  potent  band. 
And  crowds  obsequious  wait  his  high  conunand; 
Upon  his  breast  he  views  the  radiant  star. 
And  giyes  the  word  around  him,  peace  or  war  : 
la  state  he  reigns,  for  one  short,  busy  night. 
But  soon  convincM  by  the  next  dawning  light. 
Curses  the  fadmg  joys  that  vanish  firom  his  si|^it» 


TO  ALLAN  RAMSAY. 

Near  fair  Avona's  silver  tide. 

Whose  waves  in  soft  meanders  glide, 

I  read,  to  the  delighted  swains. 

Your  jocund  songs  and  rural  strains. 

Smooth  as  her  streams  your  numbers  flour^ 

Your  thoughts  in  varied  beauties  show,     ' 

Like  flowers  that  on  her  borders  grow. 

While  I  survey,  with  ravish'd  eyes. 

His  friendly  grft,»  my  valued  prize, 

Where  sister  Arts,  with  charms  divine. 

In  their  full  bloom  and  beauty  shine.  • 

Alternately  my  soul  is  blest. 

Now  I  behold  my  welcome  guest. 

That  gracefiil,  that  engaging  air. 

So  dear  to  all  the  brave  and  fair. 

Nor  has  th*  tngeriio  is  artist  shown  \ 

His  outward  lineaments  alone. 

But  in  th'  expressive  draught  designed 

The  nobler  beauties  of  his  mind ; 

True  friendship,  Jove,  benevolence. 

Unstudied  wit,  and  manly  sense. 

Then  as  your  book  I  wander  o%r. 

And  feast  on  the  delicious  store 

(Like  the  laborious  busy  bee. 

Pleased  with  the  sweet  variety) 

With  equal  wonder  and  surprise, 

I  see  resembling  portraits  rise. 

Brave  Archers  march  in  bright  army^ 

In  troops  the  vulgar  line  the  way.     ' 

Here  the  droll  figures  slyly  sneer. 

Or  coxcombs  at  full  length  appear.       , 

There  woods  and  lawns,  a  rural  scene. 

And  Swains  that  gambol  on  the  greeo.* 

Your  pen  can  act  the  penciPs  part 

With  greater  genius,  fire  and  art 

Believe  me,  bard,  no  hunted  hind 
That  pants  against  the  southern  wind. 
And  seeks  the  stream  through  unknown  ways  j^ 
No  matron  in  her  teeming,  days, 
E*er  felt  such  longings,  such  desires. 
As  I  to  view  those  lofty  spires. 
Those  domes,  where  fafr  fMina  shronds 
Her  towering  head  amid  the  clouds. 
But  oh  !  what  dangers  interpose  I 
Vales  deep  with  dirt,  and  hills  with  snowt^ 
Proud  winter  floods  with  rapid  force. 
Forbid  the  pleasing  intercourse. 
But  sure  we  bards,  whose  purer  cfay. 
Nature  has  mbct  with  less  allay, 
Mig^ht  soon  find  ont^n  easier  way. 

1  liord  Somervile  was  pleased  to  send  me  his  own 
picture,  and  Mr.  Bams^'y  wocks.         Somsrtilb. 


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ALLAN  RAMSAY. 


199 


D&Ml«geiiia»rtiiiiiKJ«iiik<»lugh»^ 

And  BwHch  their  broom-rtkks  through  the  sky  ; 

Bide  post  o'er  hilU,  and  woods,  and  seas, 

Fktn  Tfaale  to  th'  Hesperides  >  ? 

And  yet  the  men  of  Gresham  own. 

That  tlus  and  stnmger  feats  are  done. 

By  a  warn  ftncy's  ^ower  alone. 

This  granted;  why  can't  yoa  and  I 

Stretch  forth  our  wings,  and  cleave  the  sky  ? 

Snce  our  poetic  brains,  yon  know, 

Than  theirs  must  more  intensely  glow. 

Did  not  the  Theban  swan  take  wing, 

Soblimely  soar,  and  sweetly  sing  ? 

And  do  not  we,  of  humbler  vein. 

Sometimes  attempt  a  loftier  stram, 

Hoimt  sheer  out  of  the  reader's  sight, 

Obscurely  lost  in  clouds  and  night? 

Then  climb  your  Pegasus  with  speed, 
rU  meet  thee  on  the  banks  of  Tweed : 
Not  as  our  fethers  did  of  yore. 
To  swell  the  flood  with  crimson  gore  ; 
lAe  the  Gadmean  murdering  brood. 
Each  thirsting  for  his  brother's  blood. 
Tor  now  all  hostile  rage  shall  cease  ; 
LolPd  in  the  downy  arms  of  Peace, 
Oar  honest  hands  and  hearts  shall  join. 
O'er  jovial  banquets,  sparkling  wine. 
Let  Peggy  at  thy  elbow  wait. 
And  I  shall  bring  my  bonny  Kate. 
Bathold--ohl  take  a  speaal  care, 
T  admit  no  pnnng  kirlonan  there  ; 
I  dread  the  penitaotial  chair. 
What  a  strange  figure  should  I  make» 
A  poor  abandoned  English  rake ; 
A  squire  well  bom,  and  six  foot  high, 
Perdk'd  in  that  sacred  pillory  ? 
Let  Spleen  and  Zeal  be  banjsh'd  tlience. 
And  troublesome  Impertinence, 
That  tdls  his  story  o'er  agam  : 

Hi-manners,  and  his  saucy  train. 

And  Self-conceit,  and  stiff-rumpt  ^ride, 

That  grin  at  all  the  world  beside; 

Tbul  Scandal,  with  a  load  of  lies. 

Intrigues,  rencounters,  prodigies, 
'  Fame's  busy  hawker,  hght  as  air, 

lliat  feeds  on  fir^ties  of  the  &ir : 

Envy,  Hypocrisy,  Deceit, 

Pierce  Party-rage,  and  warm  JDebate; 

Aid  all  the  hell«hounds  that  are  foes 

To  Friendship  and  the  world's  repose. 

But  Mirth  instead,  and  dimpling  smiles. 

And  Wit,  that  gloomy  Care  beguiles; 

And  joke,  and  pun,  and  merry  tale. 

And  toasts,  that  round  the  table  sail : 

While  Laughter,  bursting  through  the  crowd 

In  voUies,  tells  our  joys  aloud. 

Hark !  the  shrill  piper  mounts  on  high. 

The  woods,  the  streams,  the  rocks  rqdy. 

To  his  fiur-sounding  melody.     # 

BehoM  each  labouring  sqneeie  prepare 

Supplies  of  modulated  air. 

Observe  Croudero's  active  bow. 

His  head  still  noddling  to  and  fro, 

His  eye^  his  cheeks,  with  raptures  glow* 

8e^  see  the  bashful  nymphs  advance, 

To  lead  the  regulated  dance ; 

Plying  still,  the  swains  pursuing. 

Yet  with  backward  glances  wooing. 
•IteSciByiilaiidi  were  so  called  by  Oie  ancients. 


This,  this  shall  be^the  joyous  scene ; 
Nor  wanton  elves  that  skim  the  green 
Shall  be  so  blest,  so  blythe,  so  gay. 
Or  less  regard  what  dotards  say. 
My  Rose  shall  then  your  Thistle  greet. 
The  Union  shall  be  more  complete  ! 
And,  m  a  bottle  and  a  friend. 
Each  national  dispute  shall  end. 


ANSWER  TO  THE  ABOV^  EPISTLE. 

BY  ALLAN  RAMSAY. 

Sni,  I  had  your's,  and  own  my  pleasure. 

On  the  receipt,  exceeded  measure. 
You  write  with  so  much  spirit  and  glee, 
Sae  smooth,  sae  strong,  correct  and  free  ; 
That  any  he  (by  you  allow'd 
To  have  some  merit)  may  be  proud. 
If  that's  my  fault,  bear  you  the  blame, 
Wha've  lent  me  ''C  a  lift  to  fame. 
Your  ain  tours  high,  and  widens  far. 
Bright  glancing  like  the  first-rate  star. 
And  all  the  world  bestow  due  praise 
On  the  collection  of  your  lays ; 
Where  various  arts  and  turns  combine. 
Which  even  in  parts  first  poets  shine ; 
Like  Mat  and  Swift  ye  sing  with  ease. 
And  can  be  Waller  when  you  please. 
Continue,  sir,  and  shame  the  crew 
That 's  plaguM  with  having  nought  to  do. 
Whom  Fortune  in  a  merry  mood 
Has  overcharged  with  gentle  blood. 
But  has  deny'd  a  genius  fit 
For  action  or  aspiring  wit ; 
Such  kenna  how  t*  employ  their  time. 
And  think  activity  a  crime : 
Aught  they  to  either  do,  or  say. 
Or  walk,  or  write,  or  read,  or  pray  ! 
When  money,  their  Facotum,  's  able 
To  furnish  them  a  numerous  rabble. 
Who  will,  for  daily  drink  and  wages, 
Be  chairmen,  chaplains,  clerks,  and  pages  j 
Could  they,  like  you,  employ  their  hours 
In  plantihg  these  delightful  flowers. 
Which  carpet  the  poetic  fields. 
And  lasting  funds  of  pleasure  yields ; 
Nae  mair  they  *d  gaunt  and  gove  away. 
Or  sleep  or  loiter  out  the  day, 
Or  waste  the  night  damning  their  sauls      * 
In  deep  debauch,  and  bawdy  brawls ; 
Whence  po«  and  poverty  proceed 
An  early  eiW,  and  spirits  dead. 
Reverse  of  you ;— and  him  j^ou  love. 
Whose  brighter  spirit  tours  abovo 
The  mob  of  thoughtless  lords  and  beaux. 
Who  in  his  iHca  action  shows 
"  True  friendship  love,  benevolence, 
Unstudy'd  wit,  and  manly  sense." 
Allow  here  what  you  Ve  said  your  sell. 
Nought  can  b'  exprest  so  just  and  well ; 
To  him  and  her,  worthy  his  love. 
And  every  blessing  from  above, 
A  son  is  given,  God  ?ave  the  boy. 
For  theirs  and  every  SomMPs  joy. 
Ye  wanfins  round  him  take  your  plar^ 
And  raise  him  with  each  manly  grace-a 


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800 


SOMERVIIE'S  POEMS. 


Make  bis  meridian  virtues  sHine, 
To  add  fresh  histres  to  his  line : 
And  many  may  the  mother  see 
Of  such  a  lovely  t>rogeny. 

Now,  sir,  when  Boreas  nae  mair  thndt 
Hail,  snaw  and  sleet, 'frae  blacken'd  clouds^ 
While  Caledonians  bills  are  green. 
And  a*  her  stratbft  delight  the  een ; 
While  ilka  flower  with  fragrance  blowi. 
And  a*  the  year  its  beauty  shows  j 
Before  again  the  winter  lour,  , 

What  hinders  then  your  northern  tow  It 
Be  sure  of  welcome :  nor  believe 
Those  wha  an  ill  report  would  give 
To  Edinburgh  and  the  land  of  cakes. 
That  nought  what 's  necessary  la^ks. 
Here  plenty's  goddess  ft-ae  her  horn 
Ponrs  6sh  and  cattle,  claith  and  com. 
In  blyth  abundance :— and  yet  mair» 
Our  men  are  brave,  our  ladies  fair. 
Nor  will  North  Britain  yield  for  foutb 
Of  ilka  thing,  and  fellows  couth. 
To  any  but  her  sister  South.— 

True,  nig?ed  ro^s  are  cursed  dnegh. 
And  speats  aft  joar  frae  mountains  high : 
The  body  tires — ^poor  tottering  clay. 
And  likes  with  ease  at  hame  to  stay  ; 
While  Sauls  stside  warlds  at  ilka  stend. 
And  can  their  widening  views  extend. 
Mine  sees  you,  while  you  cheerfu*  roam 
On  sweet  A^X)na's  flowery  howm, 
There  recollecting,  with  full  view. 
Those  follies  which  mankind  pursue  j 
While,  conscious  of  superior  merit. 
You  rise  with  a  correcting  spirit ; 
And,  as  an  agent  of  the  gods, 
Lash  them  with  sharp  satyric  rods : 
Labour  divine  !— Next,  fbr  a  change, 
0*er  hill  and  dale  I  see  you  range. 
After  the  fox  or  whidding  hare, 
Conflnning  health  in  purest  air ; 
While  joy  frae  heights  and  dales  resounds, 
Bais'd  by  the  hola,  horn  and  hounds : 
Fatigued,  yet  pleab'd,  the  chase  out-run, 
I  see  the  friend,  and  setting  Sun, 
Invite  you  to  the  temperate  bicquor. 
Which  makes  the  blood  and  wit  flow  quicker. 
TTie  clock  strikes  twelve,  to  rest  you  bound. 
To  save  your  health  by  sleeping  sound. 
Thus  with  cool  head  and  healsome  breast 
You  see  new  day  stream  frae  the  east : 
Then  all  the  Muses  round  3rou  shine. 
Inspiring  every  thought  divine ; 
Be  long  their  aid — Your  years  and  blesses. 
Your  servant  Allan  Ramsay  wishok 


ALLAN  RAMSAY, 

«PdK  HIS  PUBLISHIMG  A  SECOND  YOLUMl  OP  POIMS. 

Hail,  Caledonian  bard  !  whose  rural  strains 
Delight  the  listening  hills,  and  cheer  the  plains  ! 
Already  polish'd  by  some  hand  divine, 
Thy  purer  ore  what  fiimaCe  can  refine  ? 
Careless  of  censure,  like  the  Sun,  shine  fbitb,  ' 
In  native  lustre,  and  intrinsic  worth* 


To  follow  Nature  is  by  rnlet  t»  write. 
She  led  the  way,  and  taught  the  Stagirite. 
From  her  the  critic's  taste,  the  poet*s  fire. 
Both  drudge  in  vain  till  she  from  Heaven  i 
By  the  same  guide  instructed  how  to  soar, 
Allan  is  now  what  Homer  was  before. 

Ye  chosen  youths !  who  dare  like  hhn  aspire; 
And  touch  with  bolder  hand  the  golden  lyre  1 
Keep  Nature  still  in  view ;  on  bet*  intent, 
CHmb  by  her  aid  the  dangerous  steep  asceat 
To  lasting  feme.    Perhaps  a  little  art 
Is  needful,  to  plane  o*er  some  rugged  part; 
But  the  most  labour'd  elegance  and  care, 
T'  arrive  at  full  perfection  most  despair. 
Alter,  blot  out,  and  write  all  o'er  again, 
Alas !  some  venial  snns  will  yet  remain. 
Indulgence  is  to  human  frailty  due, 
Ev'n  Pope  has  faults,  and  Adidison  a  few  • 
But  those,  like  mists  that  cloud  the  morning  ray. 
Are  lost  and  vanish  in  the  blaze  of  day. 
Though  some  intruding  pimple  find  a  place 
Amid  the  glories  of  Clarinda*s  face. 
We  still  love  on,  with  equal  zeal  adore. 
Nor  think  her  less  a  goddess  than  before. 
Slight  wounds  in  no  disgraceful  scars  shall  end, 
Hod'd  by  the  behn  of  some  good-natur'd  fnen^- 
In  vain  shall  cankerM  Zoilus  assail. 
While  Spence  presides,  and  Candour  holds  the  scale. 
His  generous  breast,  nor  envy  soars,  nor  spite. 
Taught  by  his  fonnder^s  motto  *  how  to  write. 
Good-manners  gukies his  pen,   Leam*d  withoutpride. 
In  dubious  pomts  not  forward  to  decide. 
If  here  and  there  uncommon  beauties  rise. 
From  flower  to  flower  he  roves  with  glad  suiprise. 
In  failings  no  malignant  pleasure  takes. 
Nor  rudely  triumphs  over  small  mistakes. 
No  nauseous  praise,  no  bitmg  taunts  offend, 
W*  expect  a  censor,  and  we  find  a  friend. 
•Poets,  improved  by  his  correctmg  care, 
Shall  hce  their  foes  with  more  undaunted  ah". 
Stripped  of  their  rags,  shall  like  Ulysses  shine. 
With  more  heroic  port,  and  grace  divine. 
No  pomp  of  learning,  and  no'  fund  of  sense. 
Can  e'er  atone  fbr  lost  benevolence. 
'May  Wykeham's  sons,  who  in  each  art  eioel. 
And  rival  antient  bards  in  writing  well. 
While  from  their  bright  examples  taught  they  mif. 
And  emulate  then-  flights  With  bolder  wing. 
From  their  own  finalities  l^m  the  humbler  part. 
Mildly  to  judge  in  gentleness  of  heart ! 

Such  critics,  Ramsay,  jealous  ibr  our  fame. 
Will  not  with  malice  insolently  blame. 
But  lur*d  by  praise  the  haggard  Muse  reelnm. 
Retouch  each  line  till  all  is  just  and  neat, 
A  whole  of  proper  parts,  a  work  almost  complete. 

So  when  some  beauteous  dame,  a  reigning  toast. 
The  flower  of  Forth,  and  proud  Edina's  boast. 
Stands  at  her  toilet  in  her  tartan  plaid,  ' 
In  all  her  richest  hr>d-geer  triihly  clad, 
The  curious  band-maid,  with  observant  eye. 
Corrects  the  swelling  hoop  that  hangs  awry  ; 
Through  every  plait  her  busy  fingers  rove. 
And  now  she  plies  below,  and  then  above. 
With  pleasing  tattle  entertains  the  fair. 
Each  ribbon  smooths,  adjusts  each  raiEMing  hair, 
TUl  the  gay  nymph  in  her  full  lostre  shhie. 
And  Homer's  Juno  was  not  half  so  fine. 


1  WilUamof  Wykefaam»  *' 


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KFISTLES. 


JOl 


%o  mi  Atmoi  09 
THE  ESSAY  ON  MAN. 


Was  ent  work  to  such  perfection  wrought ; 
How  d^aot  the  diction !  pure  the  thought ! 
Not  sparingly  adorn'd  with  scattered  rays. 
But  one  bright  beauty,  one  collected  blaze : 
So  breaks  the  day  upon  the  shades  of  night, 
Ettlnrening  all  with  one  unbounded  light. 

T6  humble  man's  proud  heart,  thy  grMt 
But  who  can  read  this  wondrous  woric  dhriney 
So  justly  plann'd,  and  so  politely  writ, 
^nA  not  be  pnmd,  and  boast  of  human  wit  ^ 
Yet  just  to  thee,  and  to  thy  precepts  tme^ 
Let  us  know  man,  and  give  to  Ood -his  due; 
His  image  we,,  but  rnixM  with  coarse  allay. 
Our  hapfrines  to  lore,  adore,  obey  | 
To  praise  him  for  each  gracious  bwfa  bestow'd. 
For  this  thy  work,  for  every  lesser  good. 
With  prostrate  hearts  before  his  throne  to  &1I» 
ibid  own  the  great  Creator  all  in  alL 

The  Muse,  which  should  instruct,  now  entertaim, 
On  trifling  subjects,  in  enervate  strains ; 
Be  it  thy  task  to  set  the  wanderer  righ^ 
Point  out  her  way  m  her  aerial  flight; 
Her  noble  mien,  her  honours  lost  restore. 
And  bid  her  deeply  think,  and  proudly  foar. 
Thy  theme  sublune,  and  easy  verse,  will  prove 
Her  high  descent,  aind  mission  from  above. 
Let  others  now  translate ;  thy  abler  pen 
Shall  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  men ; 
In  Virtue's  cause  shall  gloriously  prevail. 
When  the  bench  frowns  in  vain,  and  pulpits  fluL 
Made  wise  by  thee,  whose  ha^ypy  style  conveys 
The  purest  morals  in  the  softest  lays. 
As  angels  once,  so  now  we  mortals  bold 
Shall  climb  the  ladder  Jacob  viewed  of  old ; 
Thy  kind  reforming  Muse  shall  lead  the  way 
To  the  bright  regions  of  eternal  day. 


EPISTLE  TO  MR.  THOMSON, 

OH  TBS  FOIST  BDmON  OP  HIS  SIASOMS. 

So  bright,  so  dark,  upon  an  April  day. 

The  Sun  darts  ibrtb,or  hides  his  various  ray ; 

So  high,  so  low,  the  lark  aspiring  sings. 

Or  dicps  to  earth  again  with  folded  wings ; 

So  smooth,  so  rough,  the  sea  that  laves  our  shores. 

Smiles  in  a  calm,  or  in  a  tempest  roars. 

Believe  me,  Thomson,  tis  not  thus  1  write. 

Severely  kind,  by  envy  sour'd  or  ftpite : 

Nor  would  I  rob  thy  brows  to  grace  my  own; 

Such  arts  are  to  my  honest  soul  unknown. 

I  read  thee  over  as  a  fnend  shoukl  read, 

Griev'd  when  you  fail,  o'eijoy'd  when  you  succeed. 

Why  shoukl  thy  Muse^  bom  so  divinely  fiur. 

Want  the  refbrming  toilet's  daily  care  ? 

Dress  the  gay  maid,  improve  each  native  grace. 

And  call  forth  ail  the  glories  of  her  hce : 

Studknisly  plain,  and  elegantly  clean. 

With  unaffected  speech,  and  easy  mien, 

Th'  accomplished  njrmph,  in  all  her  best  attire, 

Omrts  diall  applaud,  and  prostrate'  crowds  admire. 

Disoeetly  darmg,  with  a  stiffened  rdn, 

film  in  thy  Nat  liie  flying  steed  rartnln* 


ThoDgh  few  thy  fisolts,  who  can  perfection  boast } 

Spots  in  the  Sun  are  in  his  lustre  lost : 

Yet  evln  those  spots  expunge  with  patient  care, 

Kor  fondly  the  minutest  errour  spare. 

For  kind  and  wise  the  parent,  who  reproves 

The  slightest  blemish  in  the  child  he  loves. 

Read  Philips  much,  consider  Milton  more ; 

Bat  from  their  dross  extract  the  purer  ore. 

To  coin  new  words,  oe  to  restore  the  old. 

In  southern  bards  is  dangerous  and  bold; 

But  rarely,  very  rarely,  will  succeed, 

When  minted  on  the  other  side  of  Tweed. 

Let  perspicuity  o*er  all  preside-- 

Soon  shait  thou  be  the  nation*s  joy  and  pride; 

llie  rldming,  jingling  tribe,  with  bells  and  song. 

Who  drive  their  limping  Pegasus  along. 

Shall  learn  from  thee  in  bolder  flights  to  rise 

To  scorn  the  beaten  road,  and  range  the  skies. 

A  genius  so  refinM,  so  just,  so  great. 

In  Britain's  isle  shall  &c  the  Muse's  .seat, 

And  new  Parnassus  shall  at  home  create : 

Rules  from  thy  works,  each  fiiture  bard  shall  draw. 

Thy  works,  above  the  critic's  nicer  law, 

And  rich  in  brilliant  gems  without  a  flaw. 


to  THE  RIGHT  HONOUSABLB 

LADY  ANNE  COVENTRY 

VPOH  VIBWIKO   HER   FINE  CHIMKET-FIICC  OF 
SHELL-WORK. 

The  greedy  merchant  ploughs  the  sea  for  gain, 
And  rides  exulting  o'er  the  watery  plain : 
While  howling  tempests,  from  their  rocky  bed. 
Indignant  break  around  his  careful  head. 

The  rojrai  fleet  the  liquid  waste  explores 
And  speaks  in  thunder  to  the  trembling  shores ; 
The  voice  of  wrath  awak'd  the  nations  hear. 
The  vanquish'd  hope,  and  the  proud  victors  fear ; 
Those  quit  their  chain,  and  these  resign  their  palm. 
While  Britain's  awful  flag  conunands  a  calm. 

The  curious  sage,  nor  gain  nor  fiime  pursues. 
With  other  eyes  the  boiling  deep  he  views ; 
Hangs  o'er  the  cliflT  inquisitive  to  know 
Th^  secret  causes  of  its  ebb  and  flow  : 
Whencel>reathe  the  wmds  tliat  ruffle  its  smooth  face. 
Or  ranks  in  classes  all  the  fishy  race. 
From  those  enormous  monsters  of  the  main. 
Who  in  their  world,  like  other  tyrants,  reign. 
To  the  poor  cockle-tribe,  that  humble  band,  , 

Who  cleave  to  rocks,  or  loiter  on  the  strand. 
Yet  ev*n  their  shells  the  forming  hand  divine 
Has,  with  distinguish'd  lustre,  taught  to  shine. 
What  bright  enamel !  and  what  various  dyes ! 
What  lively  tints  delight  our  wondering  eyes ! 
Th'  Almighty  painter  glows  in  every  line  : 
How  mean,  alas  !  is  Raphael's  bold  design. 
And  Titian's  colouring,  if  compar'd  to  thine ! 
Justly  supreme  !  let  us  thy  power  revere. 
Thou  fill'st  all  space  !  all-b^uteous  every  where  ! 
Thy  rising  Sun  with  blushes  paints  the  Mom, 
Thy  shining  lamps  the  face  of  Night  adorn  ; 
Thy  flowers  the  meads,  thy  nodding  trees  the  hills ; 
The  vales  thy  pastures  green,  and  bubblihg  rills  ;    ' 
Thy  coral  groves,  thy  rocks  that  amber  weep. 
Deck  all  the  gloom^  mansions  of  the  deep ; 
Thy  yellow  sands  distinct  with  golden  ore, 
And  theae  thy  variegated  sbtlts  the  shore 


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tot 


SOMERVILEfS  POEMS. 


To  all  thy  works  such  grandeur  hast  thoa  lent. 
And  such  extravagance  of  ornament 
For  the  false  traitor,  pmn,  this  pomp  and  shoir ! 
A  scene  3o  gay,  for  us  poor  worms  ImbIow  ! 
No-^for  thy  glory  all  these  beauties  rise. 
Yet  may  improve  the  good,  instruct  the  wise. 

You,  madam,  sprung  from  Beauforf  s  royal  line. 
Who,  lost  to  courts,  can  iu  your  closet  shine. 
Best  know  to  use  each  blessing  he  besU^ws, 
Best  know  to  praise  the  power  fix>m  whence  it  flowi. 
Shells  in  your  hand  the  Parian  rock  defy. 
On  agat,  or  i^yptian  porphyry—  •** 
More  glossy  tbey,  their  viens  of  brighter  djpe. 
See !  where  your  rising  pyramids  aspire. 
Your  guests  surprised  the  shining  pile  admire  I 
In  future  times,  if  some  great  Phidias  rise, 
Whose  chissel  with  his  mistress  Nature  vies, 
Who,  with  superior  skill,  can  lightly  trace 
In  the  hard  marble  block  the  sdlest  fiau;e : 
To  crown  this  piece,  so  elegantly  neat. 
Your  well-wruught  busto  shall  the  whole  complete  ; 
O'er  your  own  wo^k  from  age  to  age  preside. 
Its  author  once,  and  then  its  greatest  pride. 


ADDBE8S   TO   BIB 

ELBOW-CHAIR, 

MIW   CLOATBBD. 


Mr  dear  companion,  and  my  faithful  friend ! 
If  Orpheus  taught  the  listening  oaks  to  bend : 
If  stones  and  rubbish,  at  Amphion's  call, 
Banc'd  into  form,  and  built  the  Theban  wall ; 
Why  should  not  thou  attend  my  humble  la3rB, 
And  hear  my  grateful  harp  resound  thy  praise  ? 

True,  thou  aft  spruce  and  fine,  a  very  beau ; 
But  what  are  trappings  and  external  show  ? 
To  real  worth  alone  1  make  my  court ;  . 
Knaves  are  my  scorn,  and  coxcombs  are  my  spoft. 
Once  I  beheld  thee  fkr  less  trim  and  gay ; 
Bagged,  di^ointed,  and  to  worms  a  prey ; 
The  saffe  retreat  of  every  lurking  mouse  5 
Derided,  sbunn'd ;  the  lumber  of  my  house  f 
Thy  robe  how  chang'd  from  what  it  was  before ! 
Thy  velvet  robe,  which  pleased  my  sires  of  yore ! 
^T\B  thus  capricious  Fortune  wheels  us  round; 
Aloft  we  mount— then  tumble  to  the  ground. 
Yet  grateful  then,  my  constancy  I  prov*d ; 
I  knew  thy  worth ;  my  friend  in  rags  I  lov*d ; 
I  lov*d  thee  more ;  nor,  like  a  courtier,  spum'd 
My  benefactor,  wh^n  the  tide  was  tum'd. 
With  conscious  shame,  yet  frankly,  I  coni^. 
That  in  my  youthful  days — I  luv*d  thee  less. 
Where  vanity,  where  pleasure  calPd,  I  strayed  j 
And  every  wayward  appetite  obey'd. 
Btit  page  Experience  taught  me  how  to  prize 
Myself;  and  how,  this  world :  she  bade  me  rise 
To  nobler  flights  regardless  of  a  race 
Of  fectious  emmets ;  pointed  where  to  place - 
My  Wss,  and  lodgM  me  in  thy  soft  embrace. 

Here  on  thy  yielding  down  I  sit  secure ; 
And,  patiently,  what  Heaven  has  sent,  enduie  5 
From  all  the  fiatile  cares  of  business  firee ; 
Kot  fond  of  life,  but  yet  content  to  be : 
Here  mark  the  fleeting  hours ;  regret  the  past; 
And  seriously  prepare  to  meet  the  last 

So  safe  on  shore  the  pensioned  sailor  lie«; 
And  all  the  malice  of  the  6t4>niiclefiM:  • 


With  ease  of  body  bleit,  and  peaee  of  ninl; 
Pities  the  restless  crew  he  left  behind  ; 
Whilst  in  his  cell,  he  meditates  alone 
On  his  great  voyage,  to  the  world  unknowm 


8QNG. 

As  o^er  Asteria's  fields  I  rove. 

The  blisfiil  seat  of  peace  and  love. 

Ten  thousand  beauties  roond  me  rise^ 

And  mingle  pleasure  with  surprise. 

By  Nature  blest  m  every  part, 

Adom*d  with  eveiy  grace  of  Art, 

This  Paradise  of  bkx>ming  J03r8 

Each  raptiir'd  sense,  at  once,  employi* 

But  when  1  view  the  radiant  queen. 

Who  fbrm'd  this  fair  enchanting  scene  | 

Pardon,  ye  grots !  ye  crystal  floods  I 

Ye  breathing  flowers !  ye  shady  woods ! 

Your  coolness  now  no  more  invites ; 

No  more  your  murmuring  stream  delights  ^ 

Your  sweets  decay,  your  verdure  's  flown  j 

My  soul 's  intent  on  her  alone. 


rAKAPBBASB  UPOK  A 

FRENCH  SOKG. 

Venge  moi  d*une  ingraie  maitresse, 
Dieu  du  vin,  j'implore  bon  yvresse. 

Kind  relief  in  all  my  pain. 
Jolly  Bacchus!  hear  my  pra3rer. 
Vengeance  on  th'  ingrateAil  fiur ! 
In  thy  smiling  cordial  bowl, 
Drown  the  sorroWs  of  my  soul. 
All  thy  deity  employ. 
Gild  each  gloomy  thought  with  joy. 
Jolly  Bacchus !  save,  oil  ssve. 
From  the  deep  devouring  grave, 
A  poor,  despairing,  dying  sw^in* 

Haste  away. 

Haste  away. 
Lash  thy  tigers,  do  not  stay, 
Pm  undone  if  thou  delay. 
'If  I  view  those  eyes  once  more. 
Still  shall  love,  and  still  adore. 
And  be  more  wretched  than  before^ 
See  the  glory  round  her  face  ! 

See  her  move ! 

With  what  a  grace  !— 

Ye  gods  above ! 
Is  she  not  one  of  yonr  immortal  race  ?•— 
Flyt  ye  winged  Cupids,  fly. 
Dart  like  lightning  through  the  sky  : 
Would  ye  in  marble  temples  dwell. 
The  dear-one  to  my  arms  compel ; 
Bring  her  in  bands  of  myrtle  tied  ; 
Bid  her  forget,  and  bid  her  hide. 
All  her  scorn,  and  all  her  pride. 
Would  ye  that  your  slave  repay 
A  smoaking  hecatomb  each  day  | 

O  restore 
The  beauteous  goddess  I  adore  ; 
O  restore,  with  all  her  charms, 
Tht  f aithlMi  vagrant  to  my  ariM ! 


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EPISTLES, 


SOS 


fiUDIBRAS  AND  MitLTON 

JIBCONCILKD. 

TO  Sm  ADOLPHUS  OUGHTON. 

S  ffmctm  illabatttr  orbis, 
Impavidum  ferieqt  ruii^ 


^or. 


DiAA  knight,  how  great  a  drudge  it  he 
Who  would  eioel  in  poetry  ! 
Aad  yet  bow  iim  have  learnt  the  mrt, 
T*  mform  the  head,  or  touch  the  heart  I 
Sooie,  with  a  dry  and  barren  brain. 
Poor  rogues!  like  costive  lap-^ogs  ftrain ; 
While  otbert  with  a  flux  of  wit. 
The  reader  and  their  friends  boh-t 
Would  yott  (imr  Knight)  my  judgement  know  ? 
He  ttHl  writes  worst  who  writes  <o-^. 
In  this  the  mighty  secret  li^. 
To  elerate  and  to  surprise : 
Thus  fiu*  my  pen  at  random  run. 
The  fire  was  out,  the  clock  struck  one. 
When,  lo  !  strange  hollow  murmurs  from  without. 
Invade  my  ears.     In  every  quarter  rouz'd, 
The  warripg  winds  rush  from  their  rocky  caves 
TamidtQoas;  the  vapours  dank  or  dry, 
Beneath  their  standards  rang'd,  with  lowering  front 
I>Brken  the  welkin.    At  each  dreadful  shock 
Oaks,  pmes,  and  dms,  down  to  their  mother  Eartii 
Bend  low  then*  suppliant  heads :  the  ttodding  towers 
Menace  destruction,  and  old  Edrick's  house 
From  its  fbundflion  shakes.    The  bellytng  donds 
Burst  into  rain,  or  gild  their  sable  skirts 
With  flakes  of  ruddy  fire ;  fierce  elenientf 
In  ruift  reconcird  !  redoubled  peals 
Of  ceaseless  thunder  roar.    Convulsions  rend 
The  firmament    The  whole  creation  stands 
Mute  and  appalPd,  and  trembling  waits  his  doqm. 
And  nofw  perhaps,  dear  friend,  you  wonder 
In  thift  dread  scene  of  wind,  ram,  thunder^ 
What  a  poor  (cutlty  wretch  could  do ; 
Then  bou"— (for,  fiyth,  I  tell  you  tnie) 
I  water'd,  shook  my  giddy  head. 
Gravely  broke  wuid,  and  w^i^t  to  bed. 


UPON  MIRANDA'S 

LSAVniO  THE  couimT. 

Tn  Sun  departing  hides  his  head. 
The  lUy  and  the  rose  are  dead. 

The  birds  forget  to  sing  ; 
Ihe  coomg  turtles'now  no  more 
Bepeat  their  amorous  ditties  o*er. 

But  watch  th'  approaching  spring* 
For  soon  the  merry  month  of  May 
Bertoies  the  bright  all-cheering  ray  ; 

Soft  notes  charm  every  grove : 
The  flowers  ambrosial  incense  breathej 
And  all  above,  and  all  beneath,  ^ 

Is  fragrance,  joy,  and  love. 
So  when  Biiranda  hence  retires, 
Bich  shepherd  only  not  e3q>ire8 : 

How  rueful  is  the  scene  1 


How  the  dun  moments  creep  along  I 
No  sportive  dance,  nor  rural  song. 

No  gambols  on  the  green. 
Yet,  when  the  radiant  ujrmph  appears. 
Each  field  its  richest  livery  wears. 

All  nature  's  blith  and  gay ; 
The  swains  transported  with  delight. 
After  a  long  and  gloomy  night. 

Bless  the  reviving  day. 
While  thus,  indulgent  to  our  prayer, 
Kind  Heaven  permitted  us  to  shaire 

A  blessing  so  divine ;  , 

While  smiling  hope  gave  some  relief. 
And  joys  alternate  sooth*d  our  grief. 

What  shepherd  could  repine  ? 
But  now— her  fiital  loss  we  mourn. 
Never,  oh  !  never  to  letum 

To  these  deserted  plains ! 
Undone,  abandoned  to  despair, 
Alas !  tis  winter  all  the  year 

To  us  unhappy  swains. 

Ye  little  Loves,  lament  around ; 
With  empty  quivers  strew  the  ground. 

Your  bows  unbent  lay  down ; 
Harmless  your  wounds,  pointless  your  darts, 
Aqd  frail  your  empire  o'er  our  hearts. 

Till  she  your  triumphs  crown. 
Ye  Nymphs,  ye  Fawns,  complaining  sigh  ; 
Ye  Graces,  let  your  tresses  fly,    - 

The  sport  of  every  wind  i 
Ye  mimic  Ephoes,  tell  the  woods. 
Repeat  it  to  the  murmuring  floods. 

She's  gone!  she^gone!  unkind! 
Break,  shepherds,  break  each  tuneless  reed. 
Let  all  your  flocks  at  random  feed, 

Each  flowery  garland  tear ; 
Since  Wit  and  Beauty  quit  the 'plain. 
Past  pleasures  bat  enhance  our  pain. 

And  life  's  not  worth  our  tare. 


TO  PHYLLIS. 

Thovcr  close  immur*d,  poor  captive  maid  f 

Young  Danae  play'd  a  wanton's  part ; 
The  gold  that  in  her  lap  was  laid. 

Soon  found  a  passage  to  her  hesit. 
Ambitious  Semele,  beguil'd 

By  Juno's  unrelenting  hate. 
Amid  the  bright  destruction  smiPd, 

Ei^y'd  her  god,  and  dy'd  in  state. 
The  swan  on  Leda's  whiter  breast„    . 

Artful  deceiver !  nestling  lay. 
With  joy  she  clasp'd  her  downy  guest. 

Fond  of  a  bird  so  soft  and  gay. 
What  boon  can  £uthful  merit  share, 

Where  interest  reigns,  or  pride,  or  shaw  \ 
Tis  the  rich  hanker  wins  the  foir, 

Hie  garter'd  knight,  or  feather'd  beau. 
No  more  my  panting  heart  shall  beat. 

Nor  Phyllis  claim  one  parting  groan  ; 
Her  tears,  her  vows,  are  all  a  cheat, 

For  woman  loves  herself  alone. 


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i«4 


S0MERVILE9  POEMS; 


TO  TBI  »I««T  ■ONOOlAltB 

TJOE  EARL  OF  HALIFAX, 

'     WITB  THB  FABIB  OF  TBB  TWO  8PBIK0I. 

O  Halifax  !  a  name  for  ever  dear 
To  Phoebus,  and  which  all  the  Nine  revere  ; 
Accept  this  humble  pledge  of  my  esteem. 
So  justly  thine,  benevolence  my  theme. 
In  mystic  tales,  and  parables,  of  old 
Grave  eastern  seers  instructive  lessons  told ; 
Wise  Greece  firom  them  recehr'd  the  happy  pbui. 
And  taught  the  brute  to  pedagogue  the  man. 
The  matron,  Truth,  appears  with  better  grace. 
When  well-wrought  fables  veil  her  revered  face  : 
Dry  precept  may  instruct,  but  can't  dehghi. 
While  pleasing  fictions  all  our  powers  eiccite. 
Our  busy  minds  each  faculty  employ. 
And  range  around,  and  start  their  game  with  joy ; 
Pleas'^  with  the  chase,  make  the  rich  prey  thuirown. 
And  glory  in  the  conquests  they  have  won. 
Fable  alone  can  crown  the  poet's  brow. 
Upon  his  works  immortal  charms  bestow : 
And  twerc  a  sin  that  method  to  disprove. 
Which  Heaven  has  fixM  by  sanctions  from  above. 
My  humble  Muse  in  calm  retirement  roves 
Kear  mossy  fountains,  and  near  shady  groves : 
Yet  there,  ev>n  there,  her  loyal  hands  Would  raise 
Some  rural  trophy  to  her  monarch's  praise ; 
Instruct  those  fountains  and  those  groves  to  show, 
What  copious  ble^ngs  from  his  bounty  flow ; 
While  flowers  and  shrubs  bless  his  propitious  aid. 
His  urn  refreshings,  or  protecting  shade. 
Great  friend  of  human  kind  !  thy  pious  hand 
Nor  wounds  to  kill,  nor  conquers  to  command. 
Let  haughty  tyrants  of  false  glory  dream, 
Without  remorse  pursue  the  bloody  scheme ; 
To  fame  forbidden  tread  the  lawle^  way. 
And  o'er  the  ravag'd  world  extend  Iheir  sway : 
Tis  thine,  great  George,  to  guard  thy  favourite  isle 
Prom  open  force,  snd  every  secret  wile. 
To  raise  th*  oppress'd,  to  make  the  captives  smile; 
To  pay  just  Heaven  what  righteous  monarchsowe. 
And,  like  that  Heaven,  to  bless  the  world  below : 
To  build  new  temples,  to  repair  the  old. 
To  bring  the  straggling  sheep  into  the  fold, 
And  by  wise  laws  restore  an  age  of  gold. 
Ye  bhssful  seats  where  Thame  and  Isis  join. 
Lovely  retirement  of  the  sacred  Nine, 
parent  of  arts,  and  once  my  sweet^abodc. 
Can  ye  forget  the  blessings  he  bestow'd  ? 
Can  sophistry  prevail  against  that  prince. 
Whose  merty  and  beneficence  convince  ? 
Oh  !  touch  each  tuneful  string,  let  every  Muse ' 
From  all  her  stores  her  noblest  Paeans  chusc  ; 
Pay  what  she  can  in  tributary  lays. 
And  to  his  virtue  g:rant  supplies  of  praise. 
To  all  the  world  your  grateful  hearts  make  known. 
And  in  your  monarch's  fame  record  your  own. 
His  fame— which  Envy^s  breath  can  nt'ver  blast. 
But  ages  yet  to  come  shall  join  the  past. 
And  Brunswick's  glory  with  the  world  shall  last. 


A  SONO  FOR  THE  LUTE. 

Gentlt,  my  lute,  move  every  string. 
Soft  as  my  sighs,  reveal  rny  pain  ; 

While  I,  in  plaintive  numbers,  sing 
#f  slightad  VBWS,  and  cold  diwUii«. 


In  vam  her  aln,  io  tbui  ber  Bit, 

In  vain  ibe  frowM  when  I  appear; 
Thy  notes  shall  melt  her  frozen  heart  | 

She  cannot  hate,  if  she  can  hear. 
And  see  she  smiles !  through  all  the  grove* 

Triumphant  I5-Paten9  aound : 
Clap  all  your  wings,  ye  little  Loves  ; 

Ve -sportive  Graces,  dance  anmnd. 
Ye  listening  oaks,  bend  to  my  song; 
.  Not  Orpheus  played  a  nobler  lay : 
Ye  savages,  about  me  throng ; 

Ye  rocks,  and  harder  hearts,  obey. 
She  comes,  she  comes,  relenting  fiiir ! 

To  fill  with  joy  my  longing  arms; 
What  faithful  lover  can  despair. 

Who  thus  with  verse  and  music,  charms? 


THE  COSUET. 


When  tortur'd  by  the*  cruel  &ir 
And  almost  mad  with  wild  despair. 

My  fleeting  spirits  rove; 
One  cordial  g^lance  restores  bereave. 
Redeems  me  from  the  gaping  grave. 

And  soothes  my  soul  to  love. 
Thus  in  a  sea  of  doubt  Pm  tossed. 
Now  sank,  now  thrown  upon  the  coast  ^ 

What  wretch  can  long  endure 
Such  odd,  perplexing  pangs  as  these. 
When  neither  mortal  the  disease. 
Nor  yet  complete  the  cure  ? 
Proud  tyrant !  since  to  save,  or  kill. 
Depends  on  thy  capricious  will, 

This  milder  sentence  give ; 
Reverse  my  strange,  untoward  fate. 
Oh !  let  me  perish  by  thy  hate. 
Or  by  thy  kindness  live ! 


THE  SUPERANUATED  LOVER. 

DsAn  to  the  soft  delights  of  love, 

Spare  me,  O  !  spare  me,  cruel  boy ; 
Nor  seek  in  vain  that  heart  to  mo>'e, 

A^liicb  pants  no  more  with  amorous  joy. 
Of  old,  thy  faithful  hardy  swain,  * 

(When  smit  with  feir  Pastora's  charms) 
I  serv'd  thee  many  a  long  campaign. 

And  wide  I  spread  thy  conquering  arms. 
Now,  mighty  god,  dismiss  thy  slave. 

To  feeble  age  let  youth  succeed ; 
Recruit  among  the  strong  and  brave. 

And  kindly  spare  an  invalid. 
Adieu,  fond  hopes,  fantastic  cares. 

Ye  killing  joys,  ye  pleasing  pains  ! 
My  soul  for  better  guests  prepares. 

Reason  restor'd,  and  virtue  reigns. 
But  why,  my  Cloe,  t^ll  me  why  ? 

Why  trickles  down  this  silent  tear  ? 
Why  do  these  blushes  rise  and  die  ? 

Why  stand  I  mute  when  thou  art  here  ? 
Ev'n  sleep  aflK>rds  my  soul  no  rest 

Thee  bathing  In  the  stream  1  view ; 
With  thee  I  dance,  with  thee  I  feast. 

Thee  through  the  gloomy  grove  pursue. 


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THE  PERJURED  MISTRESS. 


305 


Triiimpbaiit  god  <)f  gay  desices ! 

Thy  vassal's  raging  pains  remore; 
I  bom,  I  burn,  with  fiercer  fires. 

Oh !  take  my.  life,  or  crown  my  lovt. 


ADVICE  TO  THE  LADIES. 

Who  now  regards  CSiloris,  her  tears,  and  her  whining. 
Her  sighs,  and  fond  wishes,  and  aukward  reputing  ? 
What  a  pother  is  here,  with  her^morous  glances. 
Soft  fragments  of  Ovid,  and  scrapes  of  romances ! 
A  nice  prude  at  fifteen !  and  a  romp  ii\  decay ! 
Cold  December  afTects  the  sweet  blossoms  of  May; 
To  fawn  in  her  dotage,  and  in  her  bloom  spurn  us, 
Is  to  quench  Love's  bright  torch,and  with  touchwood 

to  bum  us. 
Bdiere  me,  dear  maids,  there 's  no  way  of  evading ; 
"While  ye  pSh,  and  cry  nay,  your  roses  are  fading : 
Thoogfa  your  passion  survive,  your  beauty  will 

dwindle. 
And  our  languishing  embers  can  never  rekindle. 
Wlien  bright  in  your  zeniths  we  prostrate  before  ye. 
When  ye  set  in  a  cloud,  what  fool  will  adore  ye } 
Tben,ye  fiiir,  be  advis'd,and  snatch  the  kind  blessing. 
And  show  your  good  conduct  by  timely  pocwBaiiig; 


ASACIUQOVTIC. 

(-       TO  CLOE  naiNKntc. 

Whw,  my  dear  Cloe,  yon  resign 
One  happy  bonr  to  n^rth  and  wine, 
Kach  glass  you  drink  still  paints  your  fiMt 
With  some  new  victorious  grace : 
Channs  in  Reserve  my  soul  surprise, 
And  by  fresh  woi^ids  your  lover  diet. 
Who  can  resist  thee,  lovely  fair ! 
That  wit!  that  soft  engaging  air ! 
Hach  panting  heart  its  homage  pays, 
Aod  all  the  vassal  world  obeys. 
God  of  the  grape,  boast  now  no  mora 
Thy  triumphs  on  far  Indus*  shore : 
Each  u^l4s  weapon  now  lay  dowtt. 
Thy  tigers,  car,  and  ivy-crown ; 
Ciive  trat  this  juice  in  full  supplies, 
And  trust  thy  fame  to  Qoe's  eyes. 


DISCARDED  TOAST. 

CiLu,  confess  tis.all  in  vain. 

To  patch  the  ruins  of  thy  face ; 
Nor  of  ill-natur'd  Time  complain. 

That  robs  it  of  each  blooming  graet. 
If  Lore  no  more  shall  bend  his  bow. 

Nor  pohit  his  arrows  from  thine  eye, 
If  nolac'd  fop,  nor  feather'd  beau, 

De^lMuring  at  thy  feet  shall  die : 
Vet  still,  my  charmer,  wit  like  thint 
"  Shall  triumph  over  Age  and  Fate  i 
Hiy  setting*  beams  with  lustre  shine, 

And  rival  their  meiidiaa  heifbt. 


Beauty,  &irfiower!  soon  fiides  away. 
And  transient  are  the  joys  of  love; 

But  wit,  and  virtue,  ne*er  decay, 
Addr^d  below,  ^  bless'd  above. 


THE  PERJURED  MISTRESS. 

FtOM  HORACE  BPOD.  XV.  AD  NE^AM. 

'TWAS  night,  and  Heaven  intent  with  all  its  ey«i 

.  Gaz'd  on  the  dear  deceitful  maid ; 
A  thousand  pretty  things  she  said, 
A  thousand  artful  tricks  she  play*d. 
From  me,  deluded  me,  her  ftdsehood  to  disguise. 

She  clasp'd  me  in  her  soft  encircling  arms. 
She  pressed  her  glowing  cheek  to  mine, 
TTie  clinging  ivy,  or  the  curling  vine. 
Did  never  yet  so  closely  twine ; 
Who  could  be  man  and  bear  the  lustre  of  her  charms  } 

And  thus  she  swore :  "  By  all  the  powers  above. 
When  winter  storms  shall  cease  to  roak*. 
When  summer  suns  shall  shine  no  more, 
When  wolves  their  cruelty  give  o*er, 
Ncaera  then,  and  not  till  then,  shall  cease  to  love.V 

Ah  !  false  Nesera !  peijur'd  fair !  hutknow^ 
I  have  9f  soul  too  great  to  bear 
A  rival^s  proud  insulting  air, 
Another  may  be  found  as  foir,  [yon. 

As  fair,  ungrateful  nymph  !  and  far  more  just  than 

Shouldst  thou  repent,  and  at  my  feet  be  laid, 
Dqected,  peniteqt,  forlorn. 
And  all  thy  former  follies  mourn, 
Thy  proffered  passion  I  would  scorn : 
The  gods  shall  do  me  right  on  that  devoted  head. 

And  you,  spruce  sir,  who  insolently  gay. 
Exulting,  laugh  at  my  disgrace. 
Boast  with  vain  airs,  and  stiff  grimace. 
Your  large  estate,  your  handsome  mcc. 
Proud  of  a  fleeting  bliss,  the  pageant  of  a  day : 

You  too  shall  soon  rq>ent  this  haughty  scorn ; 
When  fickle  as  the  sea  or  wind, 
The  prostitute  shall  change  her  mmd. 
To  such  another  coxcomb  kind ; 
Then  shall  1  dap  my  wings,  and  triumph  in  my  turn 


TO  A  YOUNO  LADY, 

WHO   %n.Vr  THE  mOHT  IN  TEARS,    UPOIf    A    IKrOEip 

THAT  Maa  BioTusa  was  to  fight  a  wzl  tmv 

MIXT  MOaHIMO. 

Pastoea  weeps,  let  every  lover  mourn, 
Her  grief  is  no  less  fiital  than  her  scorn : 
Those  shining  orbs  inflict  an  equal  para. 
Overflown  with  tears,  or  pointed  with  disdain. 
When  doubts  and  fears  invade  that  tender  breast. 
Where  peace,  and  joy,  and  love  should  ever  rest; 
As  flowers  depriv'd  of  the  Sun*s  genial  ray. 
Earthward  we  bend,  and  silently  decay; 
In  spight  of  all  philosophy  can  do. 
Our  hearts  relent,  the  bursting  tortents  flow. 
We  feel  her  pains,  and  propagate  her  woe. 
Each  mournful  Muse  laments  the  weeping  fiur. 
The  Graces  all  their  comely  tresses  tear. 
Love  drags  his  wings,  and  droops  his  litUe  head. 
And  Veaua  moanis  ai  for  Adonis  daad. 


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io6 


SOMEkVtLU'S  POEMS. 


Pati^Doe,  dear  maid,  nor  wkhoat  cause  complaiD, 
O  lavish  not  those  precious  drops  in  vain : 
'  Under  the  shield  of  your  prevailing  charms,  , 
Your  happy  brother  lives  secure  from  harms. 
Your  bright  resemblance  all  my' rage  disarms. 
Your  influence  unable  to  withstand. 
The  conseioos  steel  drops  from  my  tremUmg  hand; 
I/)w  at  your  feet  the  guilty  weapon  lies, 
The  Ibe  repents,  and  the  fond  lover  dies. 
.£oea8  tfius  by  men  and  gods  pursued. 
Feeble  with  wounds,  defil'd  with  dust  and  Mood; 
Beauty's  bright  goddess  interpos'd  her  charms, 
Ajod  sav'd  the  hc^  of  Troy  from  Grecian  arms^ 


TO  DR.  M 

aiADIMO    MATBULATICS* 

Vain  onr  pursuits  of  knowledge,  vam  our  care. 
The  cost  and  labour  we  may  justly  spare. 
Death  firom  this  coarse  alloy  refines  the  mind. 
Leaves  us  at  large  t'  expatiate  unconfin'd  ; 
▲11  science  opens  to  our  wondering  eyes, 
And  the  good  man  is  in  a  moment  wise. 


FROM  MARTIAL. 


xric.  ZLvii. 


Would  you,  my  friend,  find  out  the  true  receipty 

To  live  at  ease,  and  stem  the  tide  of  Fate  ; 

The  grand  elixir  thus  you  must  infuse. 

And  thebe  ingredients  to  be  happy  chuse : 

First  an  estate,  not  got  with  toil  and  sweat. 

But  unencumbered  left,  and  free  from  debt : 

For  let  that  be  your  dull  forefather's  care. 

To  pinch  and  drudge  for  his  deserving  heir; 

Fruitful  and  rich,  in  land  that 's  sound  and  good. 

That  fills  your  bams  with  com,your  hearth  with  wood ; 

That  cold  nor  hunger  may  your  house  infest. 

While  flames  invade  the  skA»,  and  pudding  crowns 

A  quiet  mind,  serene,  and  fi'ee  from  care,    [the  feast 

Kor  puzzling  on  the  bench,  nor  noisy  at  the  bar; 

A  body  sound,  that  physic  cannot  mend; 

And  the  tv^ut  physic  of  the  mind,  a  friend. 

Equal  in  birth,  in  humour,  and  in  place. 

Thy  other  self,  distinguish'd  but  by  face; 

Whose  sympathetic  soul  takes  equal  share 

Of  all  thy  pMeasure,  and  of  all  thy  care. 

A  modest  l^^ard,  adom*d  with  men  of  sense. 

No  French  ragouts,  nor  Frendi  impertineooey 

A  merry  bottle  to  engender  wit, 

Kot  over-dos'd,  but  quantum  officii: 

Equal  the  enrour  is  in  each  excess, 

Kor  dulness  less  a  sin,  tlian  drunkenness. 

A  tender  wife  dissolving  by  thy  side. 

Easy  and  chaste,  free  from  debate  and  pride. 

Each  day  a  mistress,  and  each  night  a  bride. 

Sleep  undisturbM,  and  at  the  dawn  of  dayv 

llie  merry  horn,  that  chides  thy  tedious  stay ; 

A  horse  that 's  clean,  sure-footed,  swift,  and  sound, 

And  dogs  that  make  the  echoing  cliits  resound  ; 

That  sweep  the  dewy  plains,  out-fly  the  wind. 

And  leave  domestic  sorrows  far  behind. 

PleasM  with  thy  present  lot,  nor  grudging  at  the  past. 

Not  fearing  when  thy  time  ahaU  come,  nor  iMxnng 

^  fortbylasu 


TO  A  mmmkiii 
WHO  MARRIED  HIS  CAST  MESTilESS^ 

imOM  BOIACB,  BOOK  IH.  ODK  IX. 

jD.    Whilb  I  was  yoort,  and  yours  aSoney 

Proud,  and  transported  with  your  clianiii> 
I  envy'd  not  the  Persian  throne. 
But  reign*d  more  glorious  ni  yoor  i 
B.    While  you  were  true,  nor  Suky  fair 
Had  chas'd  poor  Bruny  from  your  1 
Not  Ilia  could  with  me  compare. 
So  fam'd,  or  so  divinely  ble^ 

P.    In  Suky^s  arms  tetranc'd  I  tie. 

So  sweetly  sings  the  wgrblmg  fair ! 
For  whom  most  willingly  I'd  die. 
Would  Fate  the  gentle  Syren  sparr. 

B,    Me  Billy  bums  with  nyitnal  fire. 

For  whom  I  'd  die,  m  whom  I  Inpe^ 
For  whom  each  moment  I  'd  eiqnre. 
Blight  he,  my  better  part,  tnrvife. 
jD.    Shoukl  I  oDce  more  my  heart  resign* 
Would  you  the  penitent  receive  ? 
Would  Suky  scornM  atone  my  crime  ; 
And  would  my  Bmhy  own  her  slaTe  ? 

J?.    Though  brighter  be  than  blazmg  star,/ 
More  fickle  thou  than  wmd  or  sea; 
With  thee,  my  kind  returnmgdear, 
I  'd  live,  oonCented  die  irith  thee. 


A  DAINTY  NEW  BALLAD 

OCCAStOMXn  BY   A  CLBRGTMAlf^S   WI^W  OF  SimCT^ 

YBABS   OF  AGS,  BBIMO  MABBIU)  TO  A  YOVM«' 

BXCUBMAN. 

Thbrc  liv'd  in  our  good  toiiri^ 
A  relict  of  the  gown, 

A  chaste  and  humble  dame; 
Who,  when  her  man  of  God 
Was  cold  as  any  clod, 

Dropt  many  a  tear  m  vain. 
But  now,  good  people,  learn  all. 
No  grief  can  be  eternal; 

Nor  is  it  meet,  I  ween. 
That  folks  should  alwa3r8  whimper/ 
There  is  a  time  to  simper, 

Ab  quickly  shall  be  seen. 
*For  Love,  that  little  urchin. 
About  thib  widow  lurching. 

Had  slilyfix'd  his  dart; 
The  silent  creeping  flame 
BoiPd  sore  in  every  vein, 

And  glow'd  about  her  heart. 
So  when  a  pipe  we  smoke. 
And  from  the  flint  provoke 

The  sparks  that  twinkling  play  ; 
The  touchwood  old  and  dry 
With  heat  begins  to  firy,  . 

And  gently  wastes  away. 

With  art  she  patched  up  Nature^ 

Reforming  every  feature,  ^ 

Restoring  every  grace : 
To  gratify  her  pride. 
She  stopp'd  each  cranny  wide. 

And  painted  ^er  her  ficK^t, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


EPITHALAMIUM HUNTING  SONG. 


20f 


Kor  red,  nor  ^e  the  w1Ute» 
Was  wuitiiig  to  invite. 

Nor  cond  lips  that  poot ; 
But,  oh  ?  in  vain  she  tries. 
With  darts  to  arm  those  eyei 

That  dimly  squint  about. 
With  order  and  with  care. 
Her  pyramid  of  hair 

Soblimely  mounts  the  sky; 
And,  that  she  might  prevail. 
She  bolstered  up  her  tail, 

With  rumps  three  stories  high* 
With  many  a  rich  perfume. 
She  parify*d  her  room. 

As  there  was  need,  no  doubt; 
fbr  on  these  warm  occasions, 
OffisDsive  exhalations 

Are  apt  to  dy  about. 
On  beds  of  roses  Ijnng, 
Bipectmg,  wishmgy  dymg. 

Thus  languish'd  for  her  lovt 
The  Cyprian  queen  of  old. 
Am  merry  bards  have  told, 

All  in  a  myrtle  grove. 
In  pale  of  mother  church. 
She  fondly  bop>d  to  lurch, 

But,  ah  me !  hop'd  in  vain; 
No  doctor  could  be  found. 
Who  tiiis  her  case  profound 

Durst  venture  to  explain. 
At  length  a  youth  full  smart. 
Who  oft  by  magic  art 

Had  div'd  in  many  a  hole  ; 
Or  kiMerkin,  or  tun. 
Or  hogshead,  'twas  all  one. 

He  'd  sound  it  with  his  pole. 
His  art,  and  eke  his  foce. 
So  suited  to  her  case, 

EngagM  her  love-sick  heart; 
Qooth  she,,  my  pretty  Diver, 
With  thee  I  'U  live  for  ever. 

And  from  thee  never  part. 
Por  thee  my  bloom  reviving. 
For  thee  freah  charms  arising. 

Shall  melt  thee  into  joy; 
Nor  doubt,  my  pretty  sweeting, 
£re  nine  months  are  compleatmg, 

To  see  a  bonny  boy. 

Ai  ye  have  seen,  no  doubt, 
A  candle  when  just  out. 

In  flames  br^  forth  again  ; 
So  ahone  this  widow  bright. 
All  Uazmg  in  despight 

Of  thieesoore  years  and  ten. 


CANWLi'S  EPITHALAMIUM. 

UPON  TBI  SAMB. 

Tim  as  malevolent,  as  oU, 

To  blast  Camdia's  face, 
(Wluch  onde  'twas  rapture  to  behold) 

With  wrinkles  and  disgrace. 

Mot  so  in  blooming  beanty  brighty 
£ach  envying  Tiigin's  pattern, 


She  reign'd  with  undisputed  right 

A  priestess  of  St  Cattem  K 
Each  sprightly  soph,  each  brawny  thrum. 

Spent  his  first  runnings  here; 
And  hoary  doctors  dribbling  come. 

To  languid  and  despair. 

Low  at  her  feet  the  prostrate  arts 

Their  humble  homage  pay ; 
To  her  the  tyrant  of  their  hearts. 

Each  bardnltrects  his  lay. 
But  now,  when  impotent  to  please, 

Alas !  she  would  be  doing ; 
Reversing  Nature's  wise  deo^es. 

She  goes  herself  a-wooing. 
Though  brib'd  with  all  her  pelf,  the  swain 

Most  aukwardly  complies; 
Press'd  to  bear  arms,  he  serves  in  pam. 

Or  from  his  colours  flies. 
Soidoes  an  ivy,  green  when  old. 

And  grouting  in  decay. 
In  juiceless,  joyless  arms  infold 

A  sapling  young  and  gay. 
Th&  thriving  plant,  if  better  joinM, 

Would  emulate  the  skies; 
But,  to  that  wither'd  trunk  confin'd^ 

Grows  sickly,  pines,  and  dies. 


HUNTING-SONG. 

BsBOLD,  my  friend,  the  rosy-finger'd  Mora, 

With  blushes  on  her  face 

Peeps  o'er  yon  azure  hill ; 

Rich  gems  the  trees  enchase. 

Pearls  from  each  bush  distil. 
Arise,  arise,  and  bail  the  light  new-bom. 

Hark !  hark !  the  merry  bom  calls,  come  away: 

Quit,  quit  thy  downy  bed ; 

Break  from  Amynta's  arms  ; 

Oh!  let  it  nc*er  be  said. 

That  all,  that  all  her  charms, 
Though  she  's  as  Venus  &ir,  can  tempt  thy  stay. 
Perplex  thy  soul  no  more  with  cares  below. 

For  what  will  pelf  avail ! 

Thy  courser  paw*  the  ground. 

Each  beagle  cocks  his  tail. 

They  spend  their  mouths  arcnmd, 
Whil^  health,  and  pleasure,  smiles  on  every  brow. 

Try,  huntsmen,  all  the  brakes,  spread  all  the  plati^ 

Now,  now,  she  's  gone  away. 

Strip,  strip,  with  speed  pursue  ; 

The  jocund  god  of  day, 

Who  fain  our  sport  would  idew. 
See,  see,  he  flogs  his  fiery  steeds  in  vain. 

Pour  dorm,  like  a  flood  from  the  hills,  brave  boyi^ 

On  the  wings  of  the  wind 

The  nrefryi^sa^les  fly; 

Dull  Sorrow  lags  behind : 

Ye  shrill  echoes,  reply ; 
Catch  each  flying  sound,  and  double  our  joys. 
Ye  rocks,  woods,  and  caves,  our  music  repeats 

The  bright  spheres  thus  above, 
.   A  gay  refulgent  train, 

>  She  was  bar-£eeper  at  the  Cattem-wheel  la  Ox- 
fold. 


'  Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


f08 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


Harmotaioiuly  more, 

CVer  yon  celestial  plain 
Like  us  whirl  along,  in  concert  to  fweet 
Vow  Puss  threads  the  brakes,  and  heavily  fli«i> 

At  the  head  of  the  pack 

Old  Rdler  bears  the  bell. 

Every  foil  he  hunts  back. 

And  aloud  rings  her  knell. 
Till,  forc'd  rato  view,  she  pants,  and  she  diet. 
In  life's  dull  round  thus  we  toil  and  we»sweat; 

Diseases,  grief,  and  pain. 

An  implacable  crew, 

While  we  double  in  vain,. 

Unrelenting  pursue, 
mi,  Quite  hunted  down,  we  yield  with  regret 
This  moment  is  ours,  c<m£b  live  while  ye  maj. 

What 's  decreed  by  dark  Fate 

Is  not  in  our  own  power. 

Since  to  morrow 's  too  late, 

Take  the  present  kind  hour : 
With  wine  cheer  the  night,  as  sports  bless  the  day. 


A  TRANSLATION i)F  HORACE,  bp.  x. 

HORACE  RECOMMEMDS  A  COUKTaV  LIF£,  AKD  DISSVAMS 
HIS  FRIEXn  FROM  AMBITIOM  AlfD  AVARICB. 

IIeai-th  to  my  friend  lost  in  the  smoky  town. 

From  him  who  breathes  in  country  air  alone. 

In  all  thiugs  else  thy  soul  and  mhie  are  one  ; 

And  like  two  aged  long  acquainted  doves,      [loves. 

T\\e  same  our  mutual  hate,  the  same  our  mutual 

Close,  and  secure,  you  keep  your  lazy  nest. 

My  wandering  thoughts  won't  let  my  pinions  rest : 

O'er  rocks,  seas,  woods,  I  take  my  wanton  flight, 

And  tach  new  object  charms  with  new  delight 

To  say  no  more,  ray  friend,  I  liv^  and  reign. 

Lord  ©f  myself:  I  've  broke  the  servile  chains 

Shook  off  with  scorn  the  trifles  you  desire. 

All  the  vam  empty  nothings  fops  admire. 

Thus  the  lean  slave  of  some  fat  pamper'd  priest 

With  greedy  eyes  at  first  views  each  luxurious  feast ; 

But,  quickly  cloy'd,  now  he  no  more  can  eat 

Their  godly  viands,  and  their  holy  meat : 

Wisely  ambitious  to  be  fi^ee  and  poor. 

Longs  for  the  homely  scraps  he  loath'd  befbre, 

Seek'st  thou  a  place  where  Nature  is  observed. 

And  cooler  Reason  may  be  mildly  heard; 

To  rural  shades  let  thy  caUn  soul  retreat. 

These  are  th'  Elysian  fields,  this  is  the  happy  teat, 

Proof  against  wiriter's  cold,  and  summer's  beat 

Here  no  invidious  care  thy  peace  annoys, 

Sleep  undisturb'd,  uninterrupted  joys ; 

,Your  marble  pavements  with  disgrace  must  yktld 

To  each  smooth  plain,  and  gay  enamel'd  field  : 

Your  muddy  aqueducts  can  ne'er  compare 

With  country  streams,  more  pure  than  city  afar } 

Our  yew  and  bays  enclos'd  in  pots  ye  prize. 

And  mimic  little  beauties  we  despise. 

The  rose  and  woodbine  marble  walls  su(^rty 

Holly  and  ivy  deck  the  gaudy  court : 

But  yet  in  vain  all  shifts  the  artist  tries, 

The  discontented  twig  but  pmes  away  and  dies. 

The  house  ye  praise  that  a  large  prospect  yiekis. 

And' view  with  b>iigipg  eyes  the  pleasure  of  the  fields; 


Tis  thus  ye  own,  ^tis  tacitly  eonflBSS, 

Th'  inimitable  charms  the  peaceful  comitiy  blev» 

In  vain  from  Nature's  roles  we  blindly  stray. 

And  push  th'  uneasy  monitrix  away : 

Still  she  returns,  nor  lets  our  conscience  rest. 

But  night  and  day  mcnlcates  what  is  best. 

Our  truest  firiend,  though  an  unwelcome  guest 

As  soon  th'  unskilful  fool  that's  blind  enough. 

To  call  rich  Indian^damask  Nonrich  stuflT, 

Shall  hecooie  rich  by  trade ;  as  he  be  wise. 

Whose  partial  soul  and  undiaceming  eyes 

Cant  at  first  sight,  and  at  each  transient  view. 

Distinguish  good  frum  bad,  or  false  from  thie. 

He  that  too  high  exalts  his  giddy  head 

When  Fortune  smiles,  if  the  jiH  firowns,  is  dead : 

Th'  aspiring  fool,  big  with  his  haughty  boast. 

Is  the  most  abject  wretch  when  all  his  hopes  are  IO0L 

Sit  loose  to  all  the  world,  nor  aoght  admire, 

Tliese  worthless  toys  too  fondly  we  desire; 

Since  when  the  dariing's  ravish'd  from  oar  heart. 

The  pleasure's  over-balanc'd  by  the  smart 

Confine  thy  thoughts,  and  bound  thy  loose  deairet. 

For  thrifty  Nature  no  great  cost  requires : 

A  healthf^  body,  and  thy  mistress  kii^ 

An  humble  cot,  sjid  a  more  humble  mixid : 

These  once  ei^oy'd,  the  world  b  all  thy  own, 

Fkom  thy  poor  cell  despise  the  tottering  thitni^ 

And  wakeful  monarchs  in  a  bed  of  down. 

The  stag  well  arm'd,  and  with  unequal  force. 

From  firuitful  meadows  chas'd  the  conquer'd  hone  ; 

The  haughty  beast  that  stomach'd  the  disgrace, 

In  meaner  pa|^are8  not  content  to  graze, 

Receives  the  ttt,  and  man's  assistance  prays. 

The  conquest  gain'd,  and  many  trophies  won, 

His  fislse  confederate  still  rode  boldly  on ; 

In  vain  the  beast  curs'd  his  perfidious  aid. 

He  plung'd,  he  rear'd,  but  nothing  could  persuade 

The  rider  firom  his  back,  or  bridle  firom  h»  head. 

Just  so  the  wretch  that  greedily  aspires, 

Unable  to  content  his  wild  desires ; 

Dreadinglhe  fatal  thought  of  being  poor. 

Loses  a  prize  worth  all  his  golden  ore. 

The  happy  freedom  he  enjoy'd  before. 

About  him  still  th*  uneasy  load  he  bears, 

Spurr'd  on  with  fruitless  hopes,  and  cuih'd  with  anx* 

ious  fears. 
The  man  whose  fortunes  fit  not  fo  his  mmd. 
The  way  to  true  content  shall  never  find ; 
If  the  shoe  pinch,  or  if  it  prove  too  wide. 
In  that  he  walks  in  pain,  in  this  he  treads  aside. 
But  you,  my  friend,  in  calm  contentment  live, 
Always  well  pleas'd  with  what  the  gods  shall  f^vej 
Let  not  base  shinmg  pelf  thy  mind  deprave. 
Tyrant  of  fools,  the  wise  man's  drudge  and  slave  j 
And  me  reprove  if  I  shall  crave  for  more. 
Or  seem  the  least  uneasy  to  be  poor. 
Thus  much  I  write,  merry,  and  free  from  cax% 
And  nothii^  Qovet,  but  thy  presence  here. 


THE  MISERY S  SPEECH. 

riOM  HORACE,  SrOD.  II. 


Happy  the  man,  who,  free  from  care. 
Manures  his  own  paternal  fields, ' 

Content,  as  his  wise  fathers  were, 
T'  enjoy  tba  crop  his  labour  yicUks 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


FABLES,  TALES,  &c 


t09 


Kbr  Qsary  jmcmeptshisbreast. 

That  barters  happu^ess  for  gain, 
Kbr  war's  alarms  disturb  bis  rest. 

Nor  hazards  of  the  fiaithless  main : 
Nor  at  the  kwd  tmnnkiioos  bar, 

Withco«ay  noise,  and  dear  debate. 
Proclaims  an  everlasting  war ; 

Nor  fiiwnt  on  viUain»  basely  fvoat. 
Bat  for  the  vine  selects  a  spouse, 

Chaste  emblem  of  (he  marriage-bed. 
Or  prunes  the  too  luxuriant  boughs, 

Anl  grafts  more  hapiqr  in  their  stead. 
Or  hears  the  lowing  herds  from  &r, 

That  Batten  on  the  fruitful  plains. 
And  ponders  with  delightful  care. 

The  prospect  ol  his  fature  gaink 
Or  shears  bis  sheep  that  round  hrm  graze. 

And  droop  beneath  their  curfing  loads ; 
Or  plunders  his  laborious  bees 

OrboJmynectiMr,  drink  of  gods  ! 
His  chearM  bead  when  Autumn  rears. 

And  bending  boughs  reward  his  pains^ 
Jbyoos  he  phicks  the  luscious  pears, 

The  purple  grape  his  finger  stains. 
Each  honest  heait  *s  a  welcome  guest, 

WiOi  tempting  fruit  his  tables  glow. 
The  gods  are  bidden  to  the  fimst. 

To  shai«  the  Uswingrthey  bestow. 
Under  an  oak's  protecting  shade. 

In  flowery  meads  profusely  gay. 
Supine  he  leans  his  peaceful  head, 

And  gently  loiters  life  awny. 
Hie  vocal  streams  Ihflt  mmrmuring  flow. 

Or  lirom  their  springs  complaining  creep. 
The  birds  that  chrrp  on  every  bough. 

Invite  his  yielding  eyes  to  sleq>. 
Bot,  when  bleak  storms  and  lowering  Jove 

Now  sadden  the  declining  year, 
Tluoogh  every  thicket,  every  grove, 

Swift  he  puisnes  the  ilyiag  deer. 
With  deep-hung  hounds  he  sweeps  the  plains  ; 

The  hills,  the  vallies,  smoak  around  : 
Hie  woods  repeat  his  pleasing  pains. 

And  Echo  propagates  the  sound. 
Or,  po^'d  by  his  victorious  spear. 

The  grisly  boar  before  him  flies, 
Betray'd  by  his  prevail'mg  fear 

Into  the  toik,  the  mqpster  dies. 
His  tofrering  fidcon  mounts  the  skies. 

And  cuts  through  clouds  his  liquid  way ; 
Or  else  with  sly  dieceit  he  tries 

To  make  the  lesser  game  his  prey. 
Who,  thns  possessed  of  solid  joy, 

Wonld  Love,  that  idle  imp,  adore  ? 
Ooe  's  coquet,  Myrtilla  's  coy, 

Ai^  Phyllis  is  a  peijur'd  whore. 
Adien,  fimtastfe  idl^  flanie  1 

Give  me  a  profitable  wife, 
A  caiefnl,  bnt  obliging  dame. 

To  soften  all  the  toils  of  life: 
Who  Shan  with  tender  care  provide. 

Against  her  weary  spouse  retnm, 
"With  plenty  see  his  board  supply'd. 

And  make  the  ciackling  bilkts  bum : 

VOL.  XL 


And  while  his  men  and  maids  repair 

To  fold  his  sheep,  to  milk  his  kine. 
With  unbought  dainties  feast  her  dear, 

And  treat  him  with  domestic  wine. 
I  view  with  (nty  and  disdain 

The  costly  trifles  cox^mbt  boast. 
Their  Bourdeaux,  Burgundy,  Champaign, 

Though  sparkling  with  the  brightest  toast* 
Pleas'd  with  somad  mannfiictnre  more. 

Than  all  the  stum  the  knarves  impose. 
When  the  vain  cully  treats  his  whore. 

At  Brawn's,  the  Mitre^  or  the  Rose. 
Let  fops  their  sickly  palates  pleftse. 

With  luxury's  expensive  store. 
And  feast  each  virulent  disease 

With  damties  from  a  foreign  shopa^ 
I,  whom  my  little  farm  supplies. 

Richly  on  Nature's  bouiAy  live; 
The  only  happy  are  the  wise, 

Content  is  all  the  gods  can  give. 

While  thus  on  wholesome  cates  I  feas^ 

Oh  !  with  what  rapture  I  behold 
My  flocks  in  comely  order  haste 

T*  enrich  with  soil  the  barren  fold ! 
The  languid  ox  approaches  slow. 

To  share  the  feod  his  labours  eam^ 
Painful  he  tugs  th'  inverted  plough. 

Nor  hnnger  quickens  his  return. 
My  wanton  swains,  uncouthly  gay. 

About  my  smiling  hearth  de^^if. 
To  sweeten  the  laborious  day. 

By  many  a  merry  ttde  at  night. 
Thus  spoke  old  Gripe,  when  bottles  tbre# 

Of  Burton  ale,  and  sea-coal  fire. 
Unlocked  his  breast :  resolv'd  to  be 

A  generous,  liunest,  country  squire. 

That  very  mght  his  money  lent, 
On  bond,  or  mortgage,  he  calPd  hi. 

With  lawful  use  of  six  per  cent : 
Next  morn,  he  put  it  out  at  ten. 


FABLE  L 

THE   CAPTIVB  TROMPETEt* 

---Quo  non  prestantior  alter 
JEre  ciere  viros,  Martemque  accendera  caatu. 


Vng, 


A  PAtTT  of  hussars  of  late 

For  prog  and  plunder  scodr'd  the  putins. 
Some  French  Gens  d*Armes  surprisM,  and  beat. 

And  brought  their  trumpeter  in  chains. 
In  doleful  plight,  th'  unhappy  bard 

For  quarter  begg'd  on  bended  knee, 
**  Pity,  Messieurs !  In  truth  tis  hard 

To  kill  a  harmless  enemy. 
*•  These  hnnds,  of  slaughter  innocent. 

Ne'er  brandished  the  destructive  swonl» 
To  you  or  yours  no  hurt  I  meant, 
"  O  take  a  tpoor  musician's  word." 
But  the  stem  fee,  with  generous  rtge, 

*<  Scoundrel  >*'  reply'd,  ^  thou  first  ^halt  die^ 
Who,  vrgmg  oUiers  to  engage, 

From  feme  and  ^aqier  basely  fiy* 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


\ 


910 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


"  The  brave  by  law  of  amw  we  spare. 
Thou  by  the  faaDgmiUi  sbalt  expire  ; 

lis  just,  and  not  at  all  severe, 

To  stop  the  breath  that  blew  the  fire. 

FABLE  II. 

THB  BALD-PATEO  VBLSHMAN,  AND  THE  FLY. 

— Qui  non  moderabitiir  irs, 
Infectum  volet  esse,  dolor  qnod  suaserit  &  mens, 
Dum  poeoas  odio  per  vim  festinat  ioidto.  Hor. 

A  SQUIRE  of  Wales^,  whose  blood  ran  higher 
Than  that  of  any  other  squire, 
Hasty  and  hot ;  whose  peevish  honour 
Keveng'd  each  slight  was  put  upon  her, 
Upon  a  mountain's  top  one  day 
Exposed  to  Sol*s  meridian  ray ; 
He  fum*d,  he  rav'd,  he  cursed,  he  swore, 
Dxhal'd  a  sea  at  every  pore : 
At  last,  such  insults  to  evade, 
iSougfat  the  next  tree's  protecting  shade  ; 
Where,  as  he  lay  dissolved  in  sweat. 
And  wip'd  off  many  a  rivulet. 
Off  in  a  pet  the  beaver  flies. 
And  flaxen  wig.  Time's  best  disguise. 
By  which,  folks  of  maturer  ages 
Vie  with  smooth  beaux,  and  ladies*  pages : 
Though  twas  a  secret  rarely  known, 
lil-natur*d  Age  had  cropt  his  crown, 
Orubb'd  all  the  covert  op,  and  now 
A  large  smooth  plain  extends  his  brow. 
Thus  as  he  lay  with  numskul  bare. 
And  courted  the  refiresbiog  air, 
Kew  persecutions  still  appear, 
A  noisy  fly  offends  his  ear. 
Alas !  what  man  of  parts  and  sense 
Could  bear  such  vile  impertinence  ) 
Yet  so  discourteous  is  our  fate, 
Tools  always  buz  about  the  great 
This  insect  now,  whose  active  spite, 
Teaz*d  him  with  never-ceasing  bite. 
With  so  much  judgment  playM  his  part. 
He  had  him  bc^  in  tierce  and  quart : 
In  vain  with  open  hands  he  tries 
To  guard  his  ears,  his  nose,  his  eyes  ; 
For  now  at  last,  fiamiliar  grown, 
He  perch'd  upon  his  worship's  crown. 
With  teeth  and  claws  his  skin  he  tore. 
And  stuff 'd  himsrif  with  human  gore, 
.  At  last,  in  manners  to  excel, 
XJntruss'd  a  point,  some  authors  telL 
But  now  what  rhetoric  could  assuage 
The  furious  squire,  stark  mad  with  rage  ? 
Impatient  at  the  foul  disgrace. 
From  insect  of  so  mean  a  race ; 
And  plotting  vengeance  on  his  foe, 
With  double  fist  he  aims  a  blow  : 
The  nimble  fly  escaped  by  flight, 
And  skip'd  from  this  unequal  fight. 
Th*  impending  stroke  with  all  its  weight 
Fell  on  his  own  beloved  pate. 
Thus  much  he  gaiuM  by  this  adventurous  deed. 
He  fbul'd.his  fingers,  and  be  broke  bis  head. 


Let  senates  hence  learn  to  preserve  their  sCate, 
And  soorn  the  fbol>  below  their  grave  debate. 
Who  by  th*  unequal  strife  grows  popular  ud  great 


Let  him  buz  on,  with  senseleag  rant  defjf 
The  wise,  the  good;  yet  still  'ib  but  a  fly. 
With  puny  foes  the  tml  's  not  worth  the  cost. 
Where  nothing  can  be  gain'd,  much  may  be  loil  s 
Let  cranes  and  pigmies  in  mock-war  engage, 
A  prey  beneath  the  generous  eagle's  rage. 
Tnie  honour  o'er  the  clouds  sublimely  wings  ; 
Young  AmmoB  sooms  to  run  with  \em  than  Idn^ 

FABLE  HL 

THE  AHT  AND  THE  FLY. 

Quem  res  plus  lumio  delectav^  fecnnds,  ^ 

Mutatse  quatient —  Hoc 

The  easeful  ant  that  meanly  fares. 

And  labours  hardly  to  supply. 
With  wholesome  cates  and  homely  tarciy 

His  numerous  working  fiunily  ; 
Upon  a  visit  met  one  day 

His  cousin  fly,  in  all  his  pride» 
A  courtier  insolent  and  gay. 

By  Goody  Maggot  near  ally*d  s 
The  humble  insect  hnmbly  bow'd. 

And  all  his  lowest  congees  paid. 
Of  an  alliance  wondrous  proud  » 

To  such  a  hufling  tearing  blade. 
The  haughty  fly  look'd  big,  and  swore 

He  knew  him  not,  nor  whence  he  came; 
Huff 'd  muoh,  and  with  impatience  bore 

The  scandal  of  so  mean  a  claim. 

"  Friend  Clodpate,  know,  tis  notthe  med« 

At  court,  to  own  such  downs  as  thee. 
Nor  is  it  civil  to  intrude 

On  flies  of  rank  and  quality. 
**  I — who,  in  joy  and  indolence. 

Converse  with  monarchs  and  grandees. 
Regaling  every  nicer  sense 

With  olios,  soups,  and  fricassees; 

'*  l^lu)  kiss  each  beauty's  bakny  lip. 

Or  gently  buz  into  her  ear. 
About  her  snowy  bosom  skip. 

And  sometimes  creep  the  lord  knows  where  !*' 
The  ant,  who  could  no  longer  bear 

His  cousin's  insolence  and  pride, 
Toss'd  up  his  head,  and  with  an  air 

Of  OMiscious  worth,  he  thus  reply'd  ; 
"  Vain  insect !  know,  the  time  will  come. 

When  the  court-sun  no  more  shall  shine. 
When  frosts  thy  gaudy  limbs  benumb, 
'    And  damps  about  thy  wings  shall  twine  ; 
**  ^Vhen  some  dark  nasty  hole  shall  hide 

And  cover  thy  neglected  head. 
When  all  this  lofty  swelling  pride 

Shall  burst,  and  shrink  into  a  shade : 
"  Take  heed,  lest  Fortune  change  the  spene : 

Some  of  thy  brethren  I  remember. 
In  June  have  mighty  princes  been. 

But  begg'd  their  bread  before  December." 


This  precious  dBsptiag  of  a  t— ^ 
Is  first  a  pimp,  and  then  a  lord ; 
Ambitious  to  be  great,  not  good. 
Forgets  his  own  dear  flesh  and  blood. 


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FABLES,  TALES,  &c. 


2n 


Blind  godde«!- wliodeliglit*stinjoka, 
O  fix  him  on  thy  lowest  spoke ; 
And  since  the  scoundrel  is  so  vain. 
Reduce  him  to  his  filth  again. 

FABLE    IV. 

THl  WOLP,   THE   POX,   AND  THE    APE. 

OodiosiECCiiiat  MoDChos,  Catalina  Gethegum. 

Juv, 
Tev  wolf  impeach'd  the  fox  of  theft, 

The  foK  the  charge  deny'd; 
To  the  grave  ape  the  case  wn  left, 

In  justice  to  decade. 
Wise  Pug  with  comely  buttocks  sate, 

And  nodded  o'er  the  laws, 
Distingnish'd  well  tbrou^  the  debate. 

And  thus  adjudg'd  the  cause: 
'*  The  goods  are  stole,  but  not  from  thee. 

Two  pickled  rogues  well  met, 
ThoQ  shah  be  hang*d  for  perjury, 

He  for  an  arrant  cheat.'' 


Hang  both,  judicious  brute,  'twas  bravely  said. 
May  Tillains  always  to  their  ruin  plead ! 
When  knaves  foil  out,  and  spitefully  accuse, 
Theie's  nothing  like  the  reconciling  noose. 
O  hemp  !  the  noblest  gift  propitious  Heaven 
To  mortals  with  a  bounteous  hand  has  given. 
To  stop  malicious  breath,  to  end  dtbe^ 
To  prop  the  shaking  throne,  and  purge  the  state. 

FABLE    V: 

TBE  DOG  AMD  THE  BEAM. 

— Ddirant  reges,  plectuntnr  Achivi, 
Seditione,  dolis,  scelere,  atque  libidine  k  irft 
Biaoos  intra  muros,  peocatur,  ^  extra.    Hor. 

Towsxa,  of  right  Hockleian  sire, 

A  dog  of  mettle  and  of  fire. 

With  Ursin  grim,  an  errant  bear, 

Maintain'd  a  long  and  dubious  war : 

Oft  Unin  on  his  back  was  tost. 

And  Towser  many  a  collop  lost ; 

Gspricious  Fortune  would  declare. 

Now  for  the  dog,  then  for  the  bear. 

Thus  having  try'd  their  courage  fiurly. 

Brave  Ursin  first  desir'd  a  parly ; 

'*  Stout  combatant"  (quoth  he)  *'  whose  might 

Fve  felt  in  many  a  bloody  fight, 

Ten  me  the  cause  of  all  this  pother. 

And  why  we  worry  one  another  ? 

"  That's  a  moot  point,"  the  cur  reply'd, 

"  Our  masters  only  can  decide. 

While  the;  and  I  our  hearts  blood  spill. 

They  prudently  their  pockeU  fiU  ; 

HaUoo  us  on  vrith  all  their  might. 

To  turn  a  penny  by  the  fight" 

^  If  that's  the  case,"  retum'd  the  bear, 

**  'TIS  time  at  last  to  end  the  war ; 

Thou  keep  thy  teeth,  and  I  my  claws. 

To  combat  in  a  nobler  cause  ; 

Sleep  in  a  whole  skin,  I  advise, 

ind  let  them  Meed,  who  gain  the  prize*" 


Parties  enrag'd  on  one  another  fall. 

The  butcher  and  the  bear-ward  pocket  all. 

FABLE    VL 

THE  WOUHDED  man,  AMD  THE  SWABM  Of  FLIES. 

£  maMs  minimum^- 

Squalid  with  wounds,  and  many  a  gaping  sore, 

A  wretched  Lazar  lay  distress'd ; 
A  swarm  of  fli^  his  bleeding  ulcers  tore. 

And  ou  his  putrid  carcass  feast 
A  courteous  traveller,  who  passed  that  way. 

And  saw  the  vile  Harpeian  brood, 
Offer'd  hb  help  the  monstrous  crew  to  slay. 

That  rioted  on  human  blood. 
"  Ah  !  gentle  sir,"  th'  unhappy  wretch  reply'd, 

"  Your  well-meantcharity  refram ;  . 
The  angry  Gdds  have  that  redress  deny'd. 

Your  goodness  woukl  mcrease  my  pain. 
**  Fat,  and  full-fed,  and  with  abundance  cloy'd. 

But  now  and  then  these  tyrants  feed ; 
But  were,  alas  !  this  pamper'd  brood  destroy'd. 

The  lean  and  hungry  would  succeed." 


The  body  politic  must  soon  decay, 
When  swarms  of  insects  on  its  vitals  prey ; 
When  blood-suckere  of  state,  a  greedy  brood. 
Feast  on  our  wounds,  and  fiitten  with  our  blood. 
What  must  we  do  in  this  severe  distress  ? 
Come,  doctor,  give  the  patient  some  redress: 
The  quacks  in  politics  a  change  advi^. 
But  cooler  counsels  should  direct  the  wise. 
'Tit  hard  indeed ;  but  better  this,  than  worse  ; 
Mistaken  blessings  prove  the  greatest  corse. 
Alas  !  what  would  our  bleeding  counfiry  gahi. 
If,  when  this  viperous  brood  at  last  is  slain, 
The  teeming  Hydra  pullulates  again ; 
Seizes  the  prey  with  more  voracious  bite. 
To  sati^  his  hungry  appetite  ? 

FABLE    VIL 

THE  WOLF  AMD  THE  DOO. 

Hunc  egoper  Sjrrtes,  Libjrasqueextrematriumphum 
Ducere  maluerim,  quam  ter  capitolia  curru 
Scandere  Pompeii,  quam  frangere  colla  Jugurthi 

t  f  ^ 


Luc. 


A  FEOWLiMo  wolf  that  sconr'd  the  plams. 
To  ease  his  hunger's  griping  pains; 
Ragged  as  courtier  in  disgrace. 
Hide-bound,  and  lean,  and  out  of  case ; 
By  chance  a  well-fed  dog  espy'd. 
And  being  kin,  and  near  ally'd. 
He  civilly  salutes.the  cur, 
"  How  do  3rou,  cuz  ?  Your  servant,  sir ! 
O  happy  fnend  !  how  gay  thy  mien  ! 
How  plump  thy  sides,  how  sleek  thy  skm  f 
THumphant  plenty  shines  all  o'er. 
And  the  fot  melts  at  every  pore  ! 
While  I,  alas  !  deoay'd  and  old. 
With  hunger  pin*d,  and  stiff"  with  cold. 
With  many  a  howl,  and  hideous  groan , 
Tell  the  relentless  woods  my  moau« 
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SOMERYILE'S  POEMS. 


Pr'ythee,  my  happy  friend  !  impart 

Thy  wondroos,  cbmung,  tbming  art" 

•*  Why,  ftuth,  ini  teU  thee  as  afnend. 

But  first  thy  surly  manners  mond  ; 

Be  complaisant,  obliging,  kind. 

And  leave  the  wolf  for  once  behind.** 

The  wolf,  whose  mouth  b^^  to  water, 

With  joy  and  rapture  galloped  after. 

When  thus  the  dog  :  **  At  bed  and  board, 

I  share  the  plenty  of  my  lord; 

From  every  guest  I  claim  a  fee. 

Who  court  my  lord  by  bribing  me  : 

In  mirth  I  revel  all  the  day, 

And  many  a  game  at  romps  I  play : 

I  fetch  and  cany,  leap  o'er  sticks, 

And  twenty  such  diverting  tricks." 

«*  »Tis  pretty,  fcith,"  the  wolf  rcplyM, 

And  on  his  neck  the  collar  spjr'd : 

He  starts,  and  without  more  ado 

He  bids  the  abject  wretch  adieu : 

"  Ei^y  your  dainties,  friend ;  to  me 

The  noblest  feast  b  liberty. 

The  famish*d  wolf  upon  these  desert  plains^ 

Is  happier  than  a  Owning  cur  in  chams. 


Thus  bravely  spoke  the  nmnse  of  ancient  Rome, 
Thus  the  starvM  Swiss,  and  hungry  GTisons  roam. 
On  barren  hills,  clad  with  eternal  snow. 
And  look  with  scorn  on  the  prim  slaves  below. 
Thus  Cato  8cap*d  by  death  the  tyrants  chains. 
And  walks  unshackled  in  th*  Elysian  plains. 
Thus,  Britons,  thus,  your  great  forefethers  stood 
For  liberty,  and  fou^t  in  seas  of  blood. 
To  barren  rocks,  and  gloomy  woods  confin'd, 
Tbeir  virtues  by  necessity  refined, 
Kor  cold,  nor  want,  nor  death,  oould  shake  their 

steady  mind. 
No  saucy  Druid  then  durst  cry  aloud. 
And  with  his  slavish  cant  debauch  the  crowd  : 
No  passive^  l^ons  in  a  scoundrel's  cause 
Pillage  a  city,  and  afironbtbe  laws. 
The  state  was  quiet,  happy,  and  serene, 
For  Boedicea  was  the  Britons'  queen ; 
Her  subjects  their  just  liberties  maintain'd, 
'And  in  her  peppfe't  hearts  the  happy  monarch 
reign'd. 

FABLE  Vin. 

>  THI  OrSTSB. 

—In  jus 
Acres  procurrupt,  magmim  ip^ctacuhim  uterque. 

Hor. 
Two  comrades,  as  grave  authora  say, 
(But  in  what  chapter,  page;  or  Ime, 
Ye  critics,  if  ye  please,  ^fitie) 
Had  found  an  oyster  in  thehriray. 

Contest  and  foul  debate  arose. 
Both  view*d  at  once  with  greedy  cyts. 
Both  challeng'd  the  delicioua  prize. 

And  high  words  soon  improved  to  blows. 

Actions  on  actions  hence  succeed. 
Each  heroes  obstinately  stout. 
Green  bags  and  parchments  fly  aboot. 

Pleadings  are  drawn^  and  counsel  fiee'd. 


The  parson  of  the  pfaoe,  foed  ntn  I 
Whose  khMl  and  charitable  haaiC 
In  human  ills  still  bore  a  part. 

Thrice  shook  his  head,  and  tfaos  begvn 

**  Neighbours  and  friends,  refer  to  me 
This  doughty  matter  ni  dispute, 
I  '11  soon  decide  th*  important  suit. 

And  finish  all  without «  fee. 


*•  Give  me  the  oyster  then— tit  \ 
He  opens  it,  and  at  one  sup 
Gulps  the  contested  trifle  op. 

And  sm'ding  gives  to  each  a  sb^ 

"  Henceforth  let  fbolirii  diKoi 
Your  oyster's  good  as  e'er  wae  cat; 
I  thank  you  for  my  dainty  treat, 

God  bless  you  both,  and  live  in  peace. 


Ye  men  of  Norfolk  and  of  Wales, 

From  this  learn  ooomion  sense; 
Nor  thrust  your  ndghbours  into  g0fl% 

For  every  slight  offence. 
Banish  those  vermin  of  debate. 

That  on  your  substance  feed; 
The  knaves,  who  now  are  serv'd  in  plat^ 

Would  starve,  if  fools  agreed. 

FABLE    IX. 

THE  SHEIP  AKO  THE  BUSB. 

Laetus  aorte  tnA  vivas  sapifnt»r.^  fibr* 

A  suKbp,  well-meaning  brute !  one  mom 

Retired  beneath  a  spreading  thorn,  .     . 

A  pealing  storm  to  shun ; 
Escap'd  indeed  botft  rain  and  wind. 
But  left,  alas  !  his  fleece  belund : 

Was  it  not  wisely  done  ? 


Beneath  the  blast  while  pliant  osiers  bend. 

The  stubborn  oak  each  ftinous  wind  shall  rend  ; 

Discreetly  yield,  and  patiently  endure. 

Such  common  evils  as  admit  no  cure. 

These  fate  ordains,  and  Hea%''n^high  wiUlHrth  sent: 

In  humble  littlenera  submit  content. 

But  those  thy  folly  brings,  in  time  prevent. 

FABLE   X. 

THE  frog's  choice. 

E^  ttfum  ya^  fc#r  mm'  i/ufAiKU-  iUum 
1^im9  ara##AXfliAv  ymf  fu^  mXyt  f;^s9». 

In  a  wild  sUte  of  nature,  loi^ 

The  frogs  at  random  liv'd. 
The  weak  a  prey  unto  the  strong. 
With  anarcBy  oppress'd  ^nd  griev'd« 

At  length  the  lawless  rout. 
Taught  l^  their  sufierings,  grew  devout : 
An  embassy  to  Jove  they  sent. 
And  begg'dhis  highness  would  bestoir 
Some  settled  form  of  govemment, 
A  king  to  rule  the  fens  below. 
Jove,  smiling,  grants  their  odd  request, 
A  king  th'  indulgent  power  bettow'd, 
(Such  as  might  suit  their  genhn  best) 


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215 


▲  beam  of  a  pradjjpoQ*  dze, 

Wkliall  Ha  cambeioui  losd. 

Came  tombling  from  the  ikies. 
The  waten  4asb  against  the  aban. 

The  hoUovr  caverns  roar ; 
fhe  focks  retnm  the  dreadfol  soandy 

CoBvulttoos  shake  the  ground. 
The  moltitiide  vith  honour  fled, 

And  in  hi«  oqgqf  bed 
Eich  skolkiog  oowaid  hid  his  bend. 

Wbeo  aU  is  now  gromi  cahn  agahi, 
jind  smoothly  glides  the  Uqoid  pkun, 
A  frog  more  resolute  and  bold, 
Feeping  with  cautk>n  from  his  hold  ; 
Reoover'd  from  his  first  sarpiize, 
As  o*er  the  wave  his  head  he  popt, 
He  saw— but  scarce  bdiev'd  his  eyes. 
On  the  same  bank  where  first  he  dropt, 

Th'  imperial  lubber  lies, 
3tretch'd  at  bis  ease,  cardess,  content : 
**  Is  this  the  monarch  Jbre  luu  sent," 
(Said  be)  *<  our  warlike  troops  to  lead  ? 
Ay !  'tis  a  glorious  prince  Indeed ! 
lij  such  an  active  general  led. 
The  routed  mice  our  arms  rtisJl  dreads 

Subdued  shall  quit  their  claim : 
Okl  Homer  shall  recant  his  lays. 
For  us  new  trophies  raise, 
fing  oar  victonous  arms,  and  jostil^  oar  hm/tJ* 
Then  laughing  impudently  loud. 
He  soon  alarm'd  the  dastard  crowd. 
The  croaking  natioiis  with  oonlempt 
Behold  the  worthless  indotonft. 
On  wings  of  winds,  swift  scandal  flies, 

libels,  lampoons,  and  lyes. 
Hoarse  treasons,  tuneless  blasphemies. 
With  active  le^>  at  last  upon  his  back  they  stride. 
And  on  the  royal  loggerbead  in  triumph  ride. 
Once  mora  to  Jove  their  prayers  addrest. 
And  once  more  Jove  grants  their  request : 
A  stork  be  sends  of  monstrous  size. 
Bed  lightning  flashing  in  his  eyes ; 
Rul'd  by  no  block,  as  heretofore. 
The  gazing  crowds  pressed  to  his  court ; 
Admire  his  stately  mien,  his  haughty  port, 

And  only  not  adore. 
Addresses  of  congratulation, 
Sent  from  each  loyal  corporation. 

Fall-freight  with  truth  and  sense, 
Exhausted  all  their  eloquence. 
But  now,  alas!  'twas  nighty  kings  must  have  meat; 
The  Grand  Vizier  first  goes  to  pot, 
Three  Bassas  next,  happy  their  lot !    ■ 
Gain'd  Paradise  by  being  eat 
"  And  this,*'  said  he,  "  and  this  is  mine. 

And  this,  by  right  divine :" 
In  short,  *lwBS  all  for  public  weal, 
HesvaikmM  hatf  a  nation  at  a  meat 
Again  they  beg  Almighty  Jove, 
This  cruel  tyrant  to  remove. 
With  fierce  resentment  in  his  eyes. 
The  frowning  Thunderer  replies  j 
"  Those  evils  which  yourselves  create. 
Bash  fools !  ye  now  repent  too  late  ; 
Hade  wretched  by  the  pnUic  voice, 
N<A  through  necessity,  but  choice  ! 
Be  gone  ! — ^Nor  wrest  from  Heaven  some  heavier 
^•«ler  bear  this,  tins  stork,  than  worst."  [curse. 


Oppressed  with  happiness,  and  sick  with  ease. 

Not  Heaven  itself  our  fickle  min  >  <  can  please. 

Fondly  we  wish,  cloy*d  with  celestial  store. 

The  leeks  and  onions  which  we  loath'd  before  : 

Still  roving,  still  dcghring,  never  pleas  d. 

With  plenty  starved,  and  ev*Q  with  health  dtseas^d^ 

With  partial  eyes>eacb  presettt  good  we  view. 

Nor  covet  what  is  best,  but'  what  is  new. 

Ye  powers  above,  who  make  roanlund  your  care. 

To  bless  the  supplicant,  rejtet  his  prayer ! 

FABLE    XL 

UBBtlT  AVD  lOVX  ;   OR,  TBI  TWO  SPARROWS. 


—Dos  est  uxoria,  lites. 

A  SPARROW  and  his  mate, 
(Believe  me,  gentle  Kate) 

Once  lov  d  like  I  and  you  ; 
With  mutual  ardour  joined. 
No  turtles  e*er  so  kind. 

So  constant,  and  so  true. 
They  bopp*d  from  ^Mray  to  spray. 
They  biird,  they  chirp  d  all  day. 

They  cuddled  close  all  night ; 
To  bliss  they  wak*d  each  mom. 
In  every  bush  and  thorn, 

Gay  scenes  of  new  delighL 
At  length  the  fowler  came, 
(The  knave  nam  orach  to  Uame) 

And  this  dear  pair  trepanned ; 
Both  in  one  cage  confin'd. 
Why,  faith  and  troth,  twaa  kind ; 

Nay,  hokl — that  must  be  scann'd. 
Fair  liberty  thus  gone. 
And  one  cooped  up  with  one, 

Twas  aukward,  new^  and  strange  3 
For  better  and  for  worse, 
O  dismal,  fiital  curse ! 

No  more  abroad  to  range. 
No  carols  now  they  sing. 
Each  droops  his  little  wing. 

And  mourns  his  cruel  fate  : 
Clouds  on  each  brow  appear. 
My  honey,  and  my  dear. 

Is  now  quite  out  of  date. 
They  pine,  Ument,  and  moan, 
Twould  melt  an  heart  of  stone. 

To  hear  their  sad  complaint : 
Nor  he  supply'd  her  wants. 
Nor  she  refrain'd  from  taunts. 

That  might  provoke  a  sainL 
Hard  words  improve  to  blows. 
For  now,  gro«(n  mortal  foes. 

They  peck,  they  scratch,  they 
The  cage  lies  on  the  floor. 
The  wires  are  stain*d  with  gore. 

It  swelb  into  a  stream. 
Dear  Kitty,  would  you  know     • 
The  cause  of  all  this  woe. 

It  is  not  hard  to  guess ; 
Whaterer  does  constrain. 
Turns  pleasure  into  pam, 

Tis  choice  akme  caa  btoi 


Ofid* 


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SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


214    ' 

When  both  no  more  ave  free. 
Insipid  I  must  be. 

And  you  lose  all  your  charms 
My  smother'd  passion  dies, 
And  evei[i  your  bright  eyes, 

Necessity  disarms. 

Then  let  us  love,  my  lair, 
But  unconstrained  as  air. 

Each  join  a  willing  heart ; 
Let  free-bom  souls  disdain 
To  wear  a  tyrants  chain. 

And  act  a  nobler  part. 
I 

FABLE    XIL 

THE  TWO  SPRINGS. 

— Errat  \ongh  mek  quidem  sententlA 

Qui  imperium  credat  gravius  esse^  aut  itabilius 

Vi  quod  fit,  quitfn  illud  quod  amiciti^  atj^ungitur. 

Ter. 

Two  sister  springs,  from  the  same  parent  hill. 

Bom  oitthe  same  propitious  day. 

Through  the  cleft  rock  distil  : 
Adown  the  reverend  mountain's  side. 

Through  groves  of  myrtle  glide. 
Or  through  the  violet  beds  obliquely  stray; 

The  Jaurel,  each  proud  victor's  crown. 

From  them  receives  her  high  renown, 
From  them  the  curling  vine 

Her  clusters  l>ig  wfth  racy  wine. 
To  them  her  oil  the  peaceful  olive  owes, 

And  her  Vermillion  blush  the  rose. 
The  gracious  streams  in  smooth  meanders  flow. 

To  every  thirsty  root  dispense 

Their  kindly  cooling  influence. 
And  Paradise  adorns  the  mountain^  brow. 

But  oh  !  the  sad  effect  of  pride ! 

These  happy  twins  at  last  divide. 

•*  Sister"  (exclaims  th*  ambitious  spring) 

What  profit  do  these  labours  bring  ?  ^ 

Always  to  give,  and  n^er  to  enjoy, 

A  fmitless  and  a  mean  employ  ! 

Stay  here  inglorious  if  you  please. 
And  loiter  out  a  life  of  indolence  and  ease : 

Go,  humble  dradge,  each  thistle  rear. 

And  nurse  each  shmb,  your  daily  care. 
While,  pouring  down  from  this  my  lofty  source, 
I  deluge  all  the  plain. 

No  dams  shall  stop  my  coarse, 

And  rocks  oppose  in  vain. 

See  where  my  foaming  billows  flow, 

Above  the  hills  my  waves  aspire. 

The  shepherds  and  their  flocks  retire, 
Asd  tallest  cedars  as  they  pass  in  sign  of  homage  bow. 

To  me  each  tributary  spiing 

Its  supplemental  stores  shaU  bring, 

With  me  the  rivers  shall  unite. 

The  lakes  beneath  my  banners  fight. 

Till  the  proud  Danube  and  the  Rhine 

Shall  own  their  &me  eclips'd  by  mine; 
Both  gods  imd  men  shall  dread  my  watery  sway. 
Nor  these  in  cities  safe,  nor  in  their  temples  they.'' 

Away  fht  haughty  boaster  flew 
Scarce  bade  her  sister  stream  a  cool  adieu. 

Her  waves  grow  turbulent  and  bold. 

Not  gently  munnuriDg  at  of  old. 


BCit  roughly  dash  agahisi  ike  tbore. 
And  toss  their  spumy  beads,  and  proudly  ton. 
The  careful  farmer  with  surprise. 
Sees  the  tumultuous  torrent  rise  ; 
With  busy  looks  the  rustic  band  appear, 
To  guard  their  growing  hopes,  the  promise  of  tbe 
All  hands  unite,  with  dams  they  bound      [year. 
The  rash  rebellious  stream  around ; 
In  vain  she  foams,  in  vain  she  raves,   • 
In  vain  she  curls  her  fieeble  waves, 
Besi^d  at  last  on  every  side. 
Her  source  exhausted  and  her  channd  dry'd, 
(Such  is  the  fate  of  impotence  and  pride  !) 
A  shaUow  pond  she  stands  confin'd. 
The  refuge  of  the  croaking  kind. 
Hushes  and  sags,  an  inbred  foe, 
Choak  up  the  muddy  pool  below  ; 

The  tyrant  Sun  on  high 
Exacts  his  usual  subsidy ; 
And  the  poor  pittance  that  remams. 
Each  gaping  cranny  drains. 
Too  late  the  fool  repents  her  haughty  boast, 
A  nameless  notlung,  in  oblivion  lost. 
Her  sister  spring,  benevolent  and  kind. 

With  joy  sees  all  around  her  blest. 
The  good  she  does,  into  her  generous  mind 
Returns  again  with  interest. 
The  farmer  oft  invokes  her  aid 
When  Sirius  nips  the  tender  blade ; 
Her  streams  a  sure  elucir  bring. 
Gay  plenty  decks  the  fields,  and  a  perpetual  spring. 
Wheree'r  the  gardener  smooChs  her  easy  way. 
Her  ductile  streams  obey. 
Courteous  aJie  visits  every  bed. 
Narcissus  rears  his  drooping  head. 
By  her  difiiisive  bounty  fed. 
Reviv'd  from  her  indulgent  urn,  - 
Sad  Hyacmth  forgets  to  mourn. 
Rich  in  the  blessings  she  bestows. 
All  nature  smiles  wheree'er  she  flowsL 
EnamourM  with  a  nymph  so  fair. 
See  where  the  river  gods  appear. 
A  nymph  so  eminently  good. 
The  joy  of  all  the  neighbourhood ; 
They  chup  her  in  their  liquid  arms. 
And  riot  in  tii'  abundance  of  her  charms,  [joirfd. 
Like  oki  Alpheus  fond,  their  wanton  streams  they 
Like  Arethusa  she,  as  lovely,  and  as  kind. 
Now  swell'd  into  a  mighty  flood. 

Her  channel  deep  and  wide, 
Still  she  persists  in  doing  good, 
Her  bounty  flows  with  every  tide. 
A  thousand  rivul^  in  her  train 
With  fertile  waves  enrich  the  plain : 
The  scaly  herd,  a  numerous  throng. 
Beneath  her  silver  billows  glide  along. 
Whose  still-increasing  shoals  supply 
The  poor  man's  wants,  the  great  one's  luxuiy : 
Here  all  the  feather'd  troops  retreat. 
Securely  ply  their  oary  feet. 
Upon  her  floating  herbage  gaze. 
And  with  their  tuneful  notes  resound  her  praise 
Here  flocks  and  herds  in  safety  feed. 
And  fatten  in  each  flowery  mead : 

No  beasts  of  prey  appear 
The  watchful  shepherd  to  beguile. 
No  monsters  of  the  deep  inhabit  here. 
Nor  the  voracious  shark,  nor  wily  crocodile  j 


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US 


But  Delia  and  her  qyniphf,  chaste  sylvan  queeo. 

By  mortak  prymg  eyes  unseen,        [green. 

Bflthe  in  her  flood,  and  sport  upon  her  borders 

Here  merchants,  careful  of  their  store, 
By  angry  billows  tost. 

Anchor  secure  beneath  her  shore, 
And  bless  the  friendly  coast. 

Soon  mighty  fleets  in  all  their  pri^e 

IViumphant  on  her  surface  ride  : 
The  bosy  trader  on  her  banks  appears, 

An  hundred  different  tongues  she  hears. 

At  last,  with  wonder  and  surprise. 

She  sees  a  stately  city  rise; 

With  joy  the  happy  flood  admires 

Hie  lol^  domes,  the  pointed  ^ires; 
The  porticos,  magnificently  great, 

Wliere  all  the  crowding  nations  meet; 

The  bridges  that  adorn  her  brow, 
Vrook  bank  to  bank  their  ample  arches  stride. 
Through  which  her  curling  waves  in  triumph  glide. 

And  in  melodious  murmurs  flow. 

Noir  grown  a  port  of  high  renown. 

The  treasure  of  the  world  her  own. 

Both  Indies,  with  their  precious  stores. 

Pay  yearly  tribute  to  her  shores. 
Hononr'd  by  all,  a  rich,  well-peopled  stream^ 
Kor  lather  Thaines  himself  of  more  esteem. 


The  power  of  kings  (if  rightly  understood) 
is  but  a  grant  from  Heaven  of  doing  good  ; 
Prood  tyrants,  who  maliciously  destroy. 
And  ride  o'er  ruins  with  malignant  joy. 
Humbled  in  dust,  soon  to  tbeir  cost  shall  know       , 
Heaven  oar  avenger,  and  mankind  their  foe ; 
Whfle  gracious  monarcbs  reap  the  good  they  sow : 
Blessing,  are  bless'd ;  far  spreads  their  just  renown. 
Consenting  nations  their  dominion  own. 
And  joyful  happy  crowds  support  their  throne. 
In  vain  the  powers  of  Earth  and  Hell  combme. 
Each  guardian  angel  shall  protect  that  line, 
Who  by  their  vutues  prove  their  right  divine. 

TABLE    XHI. 

TflK  BALO   BATCHELOa  : 

BEIKG   A    FAEAPHBASE   UPON    THE    SBCOMO   PABLB    IN 
THE  SECOND  BOOK  OP  PHXDBUS. 

Frigidas  in  Venerem  senior,  firustraque  laborem 

Ingratum  trahit :  &  si  quanido  atpnelia  ventum  est, 

Ut  quondam  in  stipulis  magnns  sine  viribus  iguis, 

Incaasnm  fiirit.  Ergo  anioMs  aevoroque  notabis 

Pnecipu^ —  Virg.  Georg.  Ub.  iii^ 

A  BATCBBi^sa,  who,  past  his  prime. 

Had  been  a  good  one  in  hb  thne, 

Jiad  scour'd  the  streets,  had  whor'd,  got  drunk. 

Had  fought  his  man,  and  kept  his  punk. 

Was  sometimes  rich,  but  oftener  poor. 

With  early  duns  about  his  door, 

Being  a  little  oflT  his  mettle, 

Thought  it  convenient  now  to  settle; 

Grew  wondrous  wise  at  forty  five, 

Kesotving  to  be  grave,  foid  thrive. 

By  chance  he  cast  his  roguish  eye 

Upon  a  dame  who  liv*d  bard  by  ; 

A  widow  debonair  and  gay, 

October  m  the  dresf  of  May  ; 


Artful  to  lay  both  red  and  white, 

Skiird  in  repairs,  and,  ev'n  in  spite 

Of  time  and  wrinkles,  kept  all  tight. 

But  he,  whose  heart  was  apt  to  rove. 

An  arrant  wanderer  in  love ; 

Brides  this  widow,  had  Miss  Kitty, 

Juicy  and  young,  eacceeding  witty : 

On  her  he  thought,  serious  or  gay. 

His  dream  by  night,  his  toast  by  day; 

He  thought,  but  not  on  her  alone, 

For  who  would  be  confined  to  one  ? 

Between  them  both  strange  work  he  made  j 

Gave  this  a  ball  or  masquerade ; 

With  that,  at  serious  ombre  play'd : 

The  self-same  compliments  he  spoke. 

The  self-same  oaths  he  swore,  he  broke ; 

Alternately  on  each  bestows 

Frail  promises  and  short-liv'd  vows. 

Variety !  kind  source  of  joy  ! 

Without  whose  aid  all  pleasures  cloy  ; 

Without  thee,  who  would  ever  prove 

The  painful  drudgeries  of  love  ? 

Without  thee,  what  indulgent  wight 

Woukl  read  what  we  in  garrets  write  ? 

But,  not  to  make  my  tale  perplexed. 

And  keep  more  closely  to  my  text ; 

Tis  fit  the  courteous  reader  know 

This  middle-aged  man  had  been  a  beau. 

But,  above  all,  his  head  of  hair 

Had  been  his  great  peculiar  care  ; 

To  which  his  serious  hours  he  lent. 

Nor  deem*d  the  precious  time  mispent» 

Twas  kmg,  and  curiing,  and  jet  black. 

Hung  to  the  middle  of  his  back ; 

Black,  did  I  say  ?  Ay,  <^ce  »twas  so. 

But  cruel  Time  had  smok'd  the  beau. 

And  powder'd  o*er  his  head  with  snow. 

As  an  old  horse  that  had  been  hard  rid. 

Or  from  his  master's  coach  discarded, 

Forc'd  in  a  tumbril  to  go  filler, 

Or  load  for  some  poor  rogue  a  miller; 

On  his  grave  noddle,  o'er  his  eyes. 

Black  hairs  and  white  promiscuous  rise  ; 

Which  chequer  o'er  his  reverend  pate. 

And  prove  the  keffel  more  sedate  : 

So  with  this  worthy  squire  it  far*d. 

Yet  be  nor  time  nor  Ubour  spar'd. 

But,  with  excessive  cost  and  pains. 

Still  made  the  best  of  his  remains. 

Each  night  beneath  his  cap  he  fiu-l'd  it. 

Each  mom  in  modish  rini?lets  curl'd  it ; 

Now  made  his  comely  tresses  shine. 

With  orange  butter,  jessamine ; 

Then  with  sweet  powder  and  perfumes 

He  purify'd  his  upper  rooms. 

So  when  a  jockey  brings  a  mare. 

Or  horse,  or  gelding,  to  a  fair. 

Though  she  be  spavin'd,  oM,  and  blind. 

With  fbunder'd  fieet,  and  broken  wind  ; 

Yet,  if  he's  master  of  his  trade, 

He'll  curry  well,  and  trim  the  jade. 

To  make  the  cheat  g »  glibly  down. 

And  bubble  some  unwary  clown. 

What  woman  made  of  flesh  and  blooJ, 

So  sweet  a  gallant  e'er  withstood  ? 

They  melt,  tliey  yield,  both,  b')th  are  smrtteoj 

The  good  old  puss,  and  the  young  kitten; 

And,  being  now  familiar  erown, 

Each  look'd  u^oa  him  as  her  own; 


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SOMERVItE'S  POEMS. 


No  longer  talkM  of  dear,  or  honey, 
But  of  plain  downright  matrimony. 
At  that  dread  word  his  worship  started, 
Aod  was  (we  may  suppose)  faint-hearted ; 
Yet,  being  resolv'cl  to  change  his  state. 
Winks  both  his  eyes,  and  trusts  to  Fate. 
But  now  new  doubts  and  scruples  rise. 
To  plague  him  with  perplexities ; 
He  knew  not  which,  alas  !  to  chuse. 
This  he  must  take,  and  that  refuse*  i 

As  when  some  idle  country  lad 
Swings  on  a  gate,  his  wooden  pad  ; 
To  right,  to  left»  he  spurs  away. 
But  neither  here  nor  there  can  stay ; 
Till,  by  the  catch  surprised,  the  lout 
His  journey  ends,  where  he  set  out : 
Ev'n  90  this  dubious  lorer  stcay'd. 
Between  the  widow  and  the  maid  i 
And,  after  swinging  to  and  fro. 
Was  just  in  epquiliirio. 
Yet  still  a  iover*s  warmth  he  shows. 
And  makes  his  visits  and  his  bows ; 
Domestic  grown,  both  here  and  there. 
Nor  Pug,  nor  Shock,  were  half  so  dear ; 
With  hteaA  and  butter,  and  with  tea. 
And  madam's  toilet,  who  but  he  ? 
Hiere  fix'd  a  patch,  or  broke  a  comb; 
At  night,  the  widow's  drawing  room* 
O  sweet  vicissitude  of  love  ! 
Who  would  covet  Heaven  above, 
Were  men  but  thus  allowed  to  rove  ? 
'  But  alas !  some  curs'd  event. 
Some  unexpected  accident. 
Humbles  our  pride,  and  shows  the  odds 
Between  frail  mortals  and  tfie  gods: 
This  by  the  sequel  wiU  appear 
A  truth  most  evident  and  clear. 
As  on  the  widow's  panting  breast 
He  bud  his  peaceful  head  to  rest. 
Dreaming  of  pleasures  yet  in  store. 
And  yyjs  he  ne'er  had  felt  before ; 
His  grizly  locks  appear  displayed. 
In  all  their  pomp  of  light  and  shade. 
**  Alas!  my  future  spouse,"  said  she, 
"  What  do  mine  eyes  astonished  see  ? 
Marriage  demands  equality. 
What  will  malicious  neighbours  say. 
Should  I,  a  widow  young  and  gay. 
Marry  a  man  both  old  and  grey  ? 
Those  hideous  hairs  !" — with  that  a  tear 
Did  in  each  crystal  sluice  appear; 
She  fetch'd  a  deep  sighfrom  her  heart. 
As  who  should  say,  Best  friends  must  part ! 
Then  mus'd  a  while :  ^  There  is  but  one, 
But  this  expedient  left  alone. 
To  save  that  dear  head  from  disgrace  ; 
Here,  Jenny,  fetch  my  tweaser-case." 
To  woric  then  went  the  treacherous  fair. 
And  grubb'd  up  here  and  there  a  hair : 
But,  as  she  meant  not  to  renew 
His  charms,  but  set  her  own  to  view. 
And  by  this  foil  more  bright  appear. 
In  3routhflil  bkibm  when  he  was  near. 
The  cunning  gipsy  nipt  away 
The  black,  but  slily  left  the  grey. 
ODaKlahl  perfidious  fair ! 
O  sex  ingenious  to  ensare  t 
How  fisHhless  all  yourdomgs  are  ! 
Whom  Nature  formM  your  lord,  your  guide. 
You  his  pieearious  po^cr  deride^ 


Tool  of  your  vanity  and  pride. 

The  squire,  who,  thus  deceived,  ne*er  < 

What  the  deceitful  traitress  meant ; 

Thrice  kiss'd  her  hand,  and  then  retired. 

With  more  exalted  thoughts  inspir'd : 

To  his  fair  Filly  next  repairs. 

With  statelier  port,  and  youthful  airs. 

"  Loid  !  sir"--(8aid  she)  «*  you're  mighty  g*y. 

But  I  must  tell  you  by  the  way. 

That  no  brood  goose  was  e*er  so  grey. 

Here,  let  this  hand  eradicate 

Those  foul  dishonours  of  your  pate." 

For  she,  poor  tlnng  !  whose  virgin  heart, 

Unskill'd  in  every  female  art. 

In  pure  simplicity  believ'd 

His  youth  might  this  way  be  retriev'd  j 

At  least  his  age  disguis'd,  and  she. 

From  spiteful  prud^,  and  censure  free; 

With  earnest  diligence  and  care, 

Grubb'd  by  the  roots  each  grizzled  hair; 

Some  few  black  hairs  she  left  behind, 

But  not  one  of  the  silver  kind. 

But  when  she  saw  what  work  she'd  made. 

His  bald  broad  front,  without  a  shade. 

And  all  bis  hatchet  fece  displayed. 

With  scarce  six  hairs  upon  a  side. 

His  large  out-spreading  Tuggs  to  hkle  ; 

She  laugh'd,  she  scream'd ;  and  Nan  and  Bev^ 

In  concert  laugh'd,  and  scream'd  no  less. 

Home  skulk'd  the  squire,  and  hid  his  fao^ 

Sore  smitten  with  the  foul  <iU8grace : 

Softly  be  knock'd,  but  trusty  John, 

Who  knew  his  hour  was  twelve,  or  one, 

Rubb'd  both  his  eyes,  and  yawn*d,  and  swoce. 

And  quickly  blunder'd  to  the  door. 

But  starting  back  at  this  disaster, 

Vow'd  that  old  Nick  had  haggM  his  masters 

The  landUdy,  in  sore  affright. 

Fell  mto  fits,  andswoon'd  ouC-right; 

The  neighbomhcbd  was  rais*d,  and  callM, 

The  maids  miscarry 'd,  children  bawi'd. 

The  cur,  whom  oft  his  bounty  fed. 

With  many  a  scrap  and  bit  of  bread  ; 

Now  own'd  him  not,  but  in  the  throng 

Growl'd  at  him  as  he  sneak'd  along. 

To  bed  he  went,  tis  true,  but  not 

Or  closed  his  eyes,  or  slept  one  jot; 

Not  Nisus  was  in  such  despair, 

Spoil 'd  of  his  krogdom  and  his  hair: 

Not  ev'n  Belinda  made  such  moan. 

When  her  dear  favourite  lock  was  gone. 

He  fum'd,  he  rav'd,  he  ours'd  amani. 

And  all  his  past  life  ran  o'er  again; 

Damn'd  every  female  bite  to  Tyburn, 

From  mother  Eve  to  mother  Wybura  ; 

Each  youthful  vanity  abjur'd. 

Whores,  box  and  dice,  aikl' claps  ill-cur^d: 

And,  having  lost  by  female  art 

This  dariing  idol  of  his  heart. 

Those  precious  locks,  that  might  out-vie 

The  trim-currd  ffod  who  lights  the  sky  ; 

Resolv'd  to  grovnlevout  and  wise. 

Or  what 's  almost  the  same^ — precise  ; 

Canted,  abd  whm'd,  and  talk'd  most  odly. 

Was  very  slovenly  and  godly 

(For  nothing  makes  devotion  keen, 

like  disappomtment  and  chagrin)  i 

In  fine,  he  set  his  house  in  orders 

And  piously  put  on  a  border. 


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«ir 


MltAL. 


1V>yOQ,  gmy  tpuAs,  wk>  waste  joor  youthful  priiBS, 

Old  JSiop  Modi  tbif  monitory  rhyme ; 

Leave,  leave,  for  shame  your  tniUs  at  Sh— er  hall, 

Aad  marry  in  good  time  or  aot  at  aU. 

Of  all  the  moDSteit  Smithfield  e'er  ocmld  Aow, 

There's  nooe  so  hideous  as  a  hatter'd  beau. 

Thist  not  the  noon  of  lift,  but  tslce  the  mom  i 

Will  Honeycomb  is  every  female's  soom. 

Let  him  be  rich,  faigfa-bon,  book-leani'd^  and  wise. 

Believe  me,  fnaids,in  every  woman's  ^res, 

lis  bade,  and  brawn,  and  smew,  wins  the  prixe^ 

PABLE    XIV. 
THB  FoaroM-HuirrtB* 

Fortuna  sesvo  lata  negofcio,  Ac 
Lndum  insolentem  Indere  perdnax 
'nransmutat  incertos  honorea^  Her. 

CANTO    L 
Some  antiian,  more  abstruse  than  wise, 
Friend^p  confine  to  stricter  ties, 
ne(|oire  exact  conxbrmityy 
Id  person,  age,  and  qnafity  i 
Thar  homonrs,  principles,  and  wit. 
Host,  like  escchequer  tallies,  hit. 
Othen,  less  scnapiHoas,  opine 
That  hands  and  hearts  in  love  may  jom. 
Though  different  indinations  sway, 
far  Nature  *s  more  in  fault  than  they. 
Whoe'er  would  sifi  tins  point  more  faHy, 
May  read  St.  Evremona  and  TuHy  ; 
With  me  the  doctrine  shall  prevail 
That  *9  d  pfopos  to  fbrm  my  tale. 

Two  brethren  (whether  twnn  or  no 
-  Imports  not  very  much  to  know) 
Together  bred ;  as  fkm'd  their  love 
As  Leda's  brats  begot  by  Jove : 
As  various  too  their  tempers  were  ; 
That  brisk,  and  froKck,  debooafa-; 
This  more  considerate  and  severe. 
While  Bob,  wi^  diligence  would  pore 
And  coo  by  heart  bis  battle-door 
Frank  play'd  at  romps  wfth  John  the  groom. 
Or  switched  his  hobby  round  tile  room. 
The  striplings  now  too  bulky  grown, 
To  make  dirt>pies,  and  lounge  at  home. 
With  aching  hearts  to  school  are  sent. 
Their  humours  still  of  various  bent : 
The  silent,  serious,  sdid  boy, 
Game  on  apace,  was  daddy's  joy, 
Construed,  and  pars'd,  and  said  his  part, 
And  got  StudP-genus  all  by  heart. 
While  Franky,  that  unlucky  rogue, 
FeU  in  with  every  whhn  m  vogue. 
Valued  not  Lilly  of  a  straw, 
A  rook  at  chuck,  a  dab  at  taw. 
His  bum  was  often  bnish'd,  youll  say, 
nis  true,  now  twice,  then  thrice  a  day : 
So  leeches  at  the  breech  are  fed. 
To  cure  vertigos  ha  the  head. 
But,  by  your  leave,  good  doctor  Firebd, 
Let  me  this  masdm  recoomiend ; 
•*  A  genius"  cant  be  forc'd ;"  nor  can 
Yon  make  an  ape  an  alderman ; 
The  patch-woriL  doublet  weN  may  suit. 
Baft  fasv  wouU  fois  become  the  brute  ? 


In  short,  tiie  case  is  very  plain. 
When  maggots  once  are  hi  the  bnuo. 
Whole  loMS  of  bircb  are  spent  m  vaiib 

Now  to  pursue  this  bo^ul  pair 
To  Oxford,  and  the  Lord  knows  where, 
Would  take  more  ink  than  1  can  sparer 
Nor  sha^l  I  here  ranratBly  scora 
The  voliunes  Bob  turn-d  o'er  and  o'er. 
The  laundresses  tum'd  up  by  Frairic, 
With  many  a  strange  inverting  prank ; 
Twould  jade  my  Muse,  though  bettw  IM, 
And  kept  hi  body-clothes  and  breads 

When  bristles  on  each  chin  began 
To  sprout,  the  promise  of  a  man. 
The  good  old  gentleman  expir'd. 
And  decently  to  Heaven  retir'd : 
The  brethren,  at  their  country  seat, 
Eqjoy'd  a  pleasant,  snog  rotiift ; 
Their  cellars  and  their  bamt  welt  storey 
And  plenty  smoaking  on  their  boaid : 
Ale  tesd  tobaeco  for  the  vicar. 
For  gentry  sometimes  better  IxpiMi* 
Judicious  Bob  had  read  all  o^er 
Each  weighty  stay'd  philosopher. 
And  therefore  rightly  uodentoo4 
The  real  from  th'  appaieat  good  j 
Substantial  bliss,  intrinsie  joys. 
From  bustle,  vanity,  and  noise; 
Could  his  own  happiness  create. 
And  bring  his  mind  to  his  estate  ; 
liv'd  in  the  same  ealm,  easy  rounds 
His  judgment  clear,  his  body  sound  ; 
Good  humour,  probity,  and  sense, 
Bepaid  with  peace  and  indolence : 
While  rakirii  Frank,  whose  active  soot 
No  bounds,  no  principle  eontrol. 
Flies  o'er  the  worid  where  pleasure  caOi, 
To  races,  masquerades,  and  balk  ; 
At  random  roves,  now  here,  now  there. 
Drinks  with  the  gay,  and  toasts  the  fWr. 
As  when  the  foU-fi»d  resty  steed 
Breaks  from  his  groom,  he  flies  with  ^lead; 
His  higfa-arch'd  neek  he  proudly  rears. 
Upon  his  back  bis  tail  he  bears. 
His  main  upon  his  shoulders  curls^ 
O'er  every  precipice  he  whirfa. 
He  plunges  in  the  ooofing  tides. 
He  laves  his  shining  pan^iered  sides. 
He  snu£&  the  females  on  the  pladn. 
And  to  his  joy  he  brings  amain. 
To  this,  to  ttet,  impetuous  flies. 
Nor  can  the  stud  bis  lust  suAce ; 
Till  nature  flags,  his  vigtAnr  spent; 
With  drooping  tail,  and  nerves  unbent^ 
The  humble  beast  returns  content, 
Waits  tamely  at  the  stable  door. 
As  tractable  as  e'er  before. 
This  was  exactly  Franky's  case ; 
When  blood  ran  high  he  liv  d  apace  ; 
But  pockets  drained,  and  every  vein, 
Look'd  silly,  and  came  home  again* 
At  length  extravagance  and, vice. 
Whoring  and  drinkmg,  box  and  dice. 
Sunk  his  exchequer ;  cares  intrude. 
And  duns  grow  troubtesome  anl  rode. 
What  measures  shall  poor  Fraidcy  takn 
To  manage  wisely  the  last  stedce. 
With  some  few  pieces  in  his  purse. 
And  half  a  doxea  b»t8  at  none  ? 


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3X8 


SOMERmE^  POEMS. 


Pensive  h6  walk*d,  lay  lonf  «4Mdy 

Now  hit  bis  nails,  then  scratched  his  head. 

At  last  resolv'd:  «  Resolv'd  !  on  what? 

There  's  not  a  penny  to  be  got; 

The  qnestion  now  remains  alone. 

Whether  'tis  best  to  liang  or  drown." 

''  Thank  you  for  that,  gocni  friendly  Deril ! 

You  »re  very  cdurteous,  very  civil  j 

Other  expedients  may  be  try'd, 

The  man  is  yoxmg,  the  world  is  wide, 

And,  as  judicious  authors  say, 

*  Every  dog  shall  have  his  day ;' 

What  if  we  ramble  for  a  while  } 

Seek  Fortune  out,  and  court  her  smile. 

Act  every  part  in  life  to  win  her. 

First  try  the  saint,  and  then  the  sinner  ; 

Press  boldly  oa;  sU^ted,  pursue  ; 

Repulsed,  again  the  diarge  renew : 

Give  her  no  rest,  attend,  entreat. 

And  stick  at  nothing  to  be  great*' 

Fir'd  with  these  thoughts,  the  jrouth  grew  vain, 

Look'd  on  the  country  with  disdain  j 

Where  Vhrtoe's  fools  her  laws  obey, 

And  dream  a  lazy  life  away ; 

Thinks  poverty  the  greatest  sia^ 

And  walks  on  thorns  till  be  begin : 

But  first  before  his  brother  laid 

The  hopeful  scheme,  and  begg'd  his  aid. 

Kind  Bob  was  much  abash'd,  to  tee 

His  brother  in  extremity, 

Reduc'd  to  rags  for  want  of  thought, 

A  beggar,  and  not  worth  a  groat, 

He  griev'd  fiiU  sore,  gave  ^ood  advice, 

Qnc^  his  authors  grave  and  wise. 

All  who  with  wliolesome  morals  treat  us. 

Old  Seneca  and  Epictetus. 

*'  What 's  my  unbapjpy  brother  dobg  ? 

Whither  rambling  ?  whom  pursuing  ? 

An  idle,  tricking,  giddy  jade, 

A  phantom,  and  a  fleeting  shade ; 

6ra8p*d  in  this  coxcomb's  arms  a  while. 
The  mlse  jilt  fawns,  then  a  fond  smile  ; 
On  that  she  leers,  he,  like  the  rest. 

Is  soon  a  bubble  and  a  jest ; 

But  live  with  me,  just  to  thyself. 

And  scorn  the  bitch,  and  all  her  pelf; 

Fortune  's  ador'd  by  fools  alone. 

The  wise  man  alwajrs  makes  his  own." 

But  tis,  alas  !  in  vain  t'  apply 

Fine  SBjrings  and  philosophy. 

Where  a  poor  youth's  o'erhcated  brain. 

Is  sold  to  interest  and  gain. 

And  pride  and  fierce  ambition  reign. 

Bob  found  it  so,  nor  did  he  strive 

To  work  the  nail  that  would  not  drive  ; 

Content  to  do  the  best  be  could, 

And  as  became  his  brotherhood. 

Gave  him  what  money  he  could  spare. 

And  kindly  paid  his  old  arrear, 

Bought  him  his  equipage  and  clothes,       < 

So  thus  supply'd  away  he  goes, 

^Pbr  London  town  he  mounts,  as  gay 

As  tailors  on  their  wedding-^y. 

Not  many  miles  upon  ^e  road, 
A  widow's  stately  mansion  stood : 
«  What  if  dame  Fortune  should  be  there  ?" 
(Said  Fhmk)  <*  'tis  ten  to  one,  I  swear : 
I  'U  try  to  find  her  in  the  crowd. 
She  loves  the  wealthy  imd  the  proud," 


Away  he  spurs,  and  at  the  door 

Stood  gallant  gentry  many  a  score, 

Penetope  had  never  more. 

Here  tortur'd  cats-gut  squeals  aiBaii^ 

Guittars  in  softer  notes  complain, 

Ai^  lutes  reveal  the  lover*s  pain. 

Frank,  with  a  careless,  easy  mien. 

Sung  her  a  song,  and  was  let  in. 

The  rest  with  envy  burst,  to  see 

The  stranger's  odd  felicitjr. 

Low  bow'd  the  footman  at  the  stairSy 

The  gentleman  at  top  appears : 

**  And  is  your  lady,  sir,  at  home  V* 

"  Pray  walk  into  the  drawing  room.** 

But  here  my  Muse  is  too  well  bred. 

To  prattle  what  was  done  or  said ; 

She  hk'd  the  youth,  his  dress,  his  fooe. 

His  calves,  his  back,  and  every  grace  z. 

Supper  was  serv'd,  and  down  they  sit,. 

Much  meat,  good  wine,  some  little  wit. 

The  grace-cup  drunk,  or  dance  or  play  i 

Frank  chose  the  last,  was  very  gay, 

Had  the  good  luck  the  board  to  strip. 

And  punted  to  her  ladyship. 

The  clock  strikes  one,  the  gentry  bow'd» 

Each  to  his  own  apartment  sbow'd  ; 

But  Franky  was  in  piteous  nuxxl. 

Slept  not  a  wink ;  he  raves,  he  dies, 

Smit  with  her  jointure  and  her  eyes. 

Restless  as  hi  a  h'on's  den, 

He  sprawl'd  and  kick'd  about  till  ten  £ 

But,  as  he  dreamt  of  future  joys. 

His  ear  was  startled  with  a  noise. 

Six  trumpets  and  a  kettle-drum  ; 

Up  in  a  hurry  flies  the  groom, 

"  Lord,  sir  !  get  dress'd,  the  colonel 's  oome : 

Your  hone  is  ready  at  the  door. 

You  may  reach  Uxbridge,  sir,  by  four.** 

Poor  Franky  must  in  haste  remove. 

With  disappomtment  vex'd,  and  lova^ 
To  dirt  absndon'd  and  despur, 

For  lace  and  feather  won  the  foir. 
Now  for  the  town  he  jogs  apace. 

With  leaky  boots  and  sun-burnt  foce; 

And,  leaving  Acton  in  his  rear. 

Began  to  b/eathe  sulphureous  air. 

Arriv'd  at  length,  the  table  spread. 

Three  bottles  drunk,  he  reels  to  bed. 

Next  mom  bis  busy  thoughts  begun. 

To  rise  and  travel  with  the  Sun ; 

Whims  heap'd  on  whims  his  head  tum*d  round. 

But  how  dame  Fortune  might  be  found. 

Was  the  momentous  grand  affair. 

His  secret  wish,  his  only  care. 

*'  Damme,"  thought  Franky  to  himself, 

"  rU  find  this  giddy  wandering  elf; 

PU  hunt  her  out  in  every  quarter. 

Till  she  bestow  the  staff  or  garter:  ' 

I  '11  visit  good  lord  Sunderland, 

Who  keeps  the  jilt  at  his  command^ 

Or  else  some  courteous  dutchess  may 

Take  pity  on  a  runaway." 

DressM  to  a  pink  to  court  he  flies. 

At  this  levee,  and  that,  he  plies ; 

Bows  in  his  rank,  an  humble  slave. 

And  meanly  fawns  on  every  knave  ; 

With  maids  of  honour  learns  to  chat. 

Fights  for  thi9  lord,  and  pimps  for  that* 


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FABLES,  TALES,  tec 


ii§ 


Fdrtone  he  floajriit  firon  place  t(>  ptooe. 
She  ledhim8tUlawi]d.gD08echaie; 
Ahvays  prepar'd  with  some  eaBCuse, 
Thebopefiil  ywankex  to  amnae  ; 
Was  hiay,  iodisp06*d,  was  gone 
To  Uamptoa-couit,  or  KeiwingtoD  ; 
Andy  mfter  all  her  wiles  and  dodgings. 
She  slipp'd  clear  off,  and  bilk'd  her  lodgingv. 
Jaded,  and  almost  in  de^air, 
A  gainester  whisper'd  m  his  ear ; 
'*  Who  would  seek  Fortune,  air,,  at  oooit  ? 
At  H — Vm  is  her  chief  resort ; 
Tis  there  her  midnigfat  hours  she  ^ends, 
It  very  graoous  to  her  friends ; 
Shows  honest  soen  the  means  dftiuiring. 
The  best,  good-natorM  goddess  liTing.** 
Away  he  trudges  with  his  rook, 
Thitms  many  a  main,  is  bit,  is  broke; 
With  dhty  knuckles,  aching  head, 
Dsoonaolate  he  meakstobed. 

CANTO  II. 

How  humble,  and  how  complaisant, 

li  a  proud  man  redac'd  to  want ! 

With  what  a  nlly,  hangmg  &oe. 

He  bears  hts  unforeseen  dtsgrtu^  I 

His  spirits  flag,  hia  pulse  beats  low. 

The  gods,  and  all  the  world  his  foe; 

To  thriring  knaves  a  ridicule, 

A  butt  to  every  wealthy  fool. 

Tor  where  is  courage,  wit,  or  sense. 

When  a  poor  rake  has  lost  his  pence  } 

Let  all  the  leam*d  say  what  they  can, 

nis  ready  money  makes  the  man  ; 

Commands  respect  wberee'er  we  go. 

And  gives  a  grace  to  all  we  da 

With  sQch  reflections  Frank  distressM, 

The  horroors  of  his  soul  expressed, 

OoDtempt,  the  basket,  and  a  jail. 

By  turns  Ins  restless  mhid  assail ; 

Aghast  the  dismal  scene  he  flies. 

And  Death  grows  pleasing  in  his  eyes : 

For  nnce  his  rhino  was  all  flown. 

To  the  last  solitary  crown. 

Who  would  not,  like  a  Roman,  dare 

To  leave  that  world  he  could  not  share  ? 

The  pistol  on  bis  table  lay, 

And  Death  fled  hovering  o*er  his  prey  ; 

There  wanted  nothing  now  to  do. 

But  touch  the  trigger,  and  adieu. 

As  he  was  saying  some  short  prayers. 

He  heard  a  wheezing  on  the  stairs, 

And  looking  out,  his  aunt  appears ; 

Who  from  Mooi^lds,  breathless  and  lame. 

To  see  her  graceless  godson  came  : 

The  salutations  being  past, 

Gouging,  and  out  of  wind,  at  last 

|a  ha  great  chair  she  took  her  place, 

"How  does  your  brother  ?  is  my  niece 

Wellmarry'd?  when  will  Robin  settle  ?» 

He  answered  all  things  to  a  tittlej 

Gave  such  content  in  every  part, 

He  gained  the  good  old  beldam's  heart* 

"  Oodiun,''  said  she,  "  alas  !  1  know 

*™«n  with  ]rou  are  but  so-so: 

Jjo  *n  come  to  town,  I  understand, 

Td  nakc  your  fbrtane  out  of  hand^ 


Your  time  and  patrimony  lost, . 

To  beg  a  place,  or  buji  a  post 

Believe  me,  godson,  I  *m  your  friend  ; 

Of  this  great  town,  this  wicked  end 

Is  ripe  for  judgment;  Satan's  seat,        f 

The  shik  of  Sin,  and  Hell  compleat. 

In  every  street  of  trulls  a  troop. 

And  every  cook-wench  wears  a  hoop  ; 

Sodom  was  less  deform'd  with  vice. 

Lewdness  of  all  kinds,  cards  and  dice.'' 

Frank  blush'd  (which,  by  the  way,  was  more 

Than  ewr  he  had  done  before) ; 

And  own*d  it  was  a  wretched  place. 

Unfit  for  any  diild  oTgrace. 

The  good  old  aunt  o'erjoy'd  to  see 

These  glimmerings  of  sanctity  I 

"  My  dear,"  said  she,  '*  this  purse  is  yooc^ 

It  cost  me  many  painful  hours; 

Take  it,  improve  it,  and  become 

By  art  and  industry  a  plumb. 

But  leave,  for  shame,  this  impious  street. 

All  over  mark'd  with  cloven  feet ; 

In  our  more  holy  quarter  live. 

Where  both  your  soul  and  stock  may  thrive; 

Where  righteous  citizens  repair. 

And  Heaven  and  Earth  the  godly  share, 

Gahi  this  by  jobbing,  that  by  prayer. 

At  Jonathan's  go  smoke  a  pipe, 

look  very  serious,  dme  on  tripe  ; 

Get  eariy  up,  late  close  3rour  eyes. 

And  leave  no  stone  untum'd  to  rise : 

Then  each  good  day  at  Saltei's-Hall 

Pray  for  a  blessing  iqion  alL" 

Lowly  the  ravish'd  Franky  bows. 
While  joy  sat  smiling  on  his  brows; 
And  without  scruple,  in  a  trice. 
He  took  her  money  and  advice. 
Not  an  extravagant  young  heir. 
Beset  with  duns,  and  in  despair. 
When  joyfol  tidings  reach  his  ear. 
And  dad  retires  by  Heaven's  commands,      i 
To  leave  his  chmk  to  better  hands; 
Not  wandering  sailors  almost  lost. 
When  they  behold  the  wish'd-fbr  coast; 
Not  culprit  when  the  knot  is  plac'd. 
And  kind  reprieve  arrives  in  haste  ; 
E'er  felt  a  joy  in  such  excess. 
As  Frank  reliev'd  from  this  distress.. 
A  thousand  antic  tricks  he  play'd. 
The  purse  he  kiss'd,  swore,  curs'd,  and  pray'd. 
Counted  the  pieces  o'er  and  o'er. 
And  hugg'd  his  unexpected  store; 
Built  stately  castles  in  the  air, 
Sopp'd  with  the  great,  enjoy'd  the  foir; 
Pick'd  out  his  title  and  his  place, 
Was  scarce  contented  with  Your  Grace. 
Sbange  visions  working  in  bis  head, 
Frantic,  half  mad,  he  stroles  to  bed ; 
Sleeps  little ;  if  he  sleeps,  he  dreams 
Of  sceptres,  and  of  diadems. 
"  Fortune,"  said  he,  "  shall  now  no  more 
Trick  and  deceive  me  as  of  yore : 
Thi^  passport  shall  admittance  gam. 
In  spite  of  all  the  jilt's  disdaia : 
'tis  this  the  tjrrant's  pride  disarms. 
And  brings  her  blushing  to  my  arms ; 
This  golden  bough  my  wish  shall  speed. 
And  to  th'  Elysian  fields  ffh?li  lead.'* 


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ii6 


SO«ilERTILBS  PCNEMS. 


Hm  mora  scarce  peepM,  but  op  he  nue. 

Impatient  huddled  on  his  clothes ; 

CaU'd  the  nert  coach,  gave  doable  pay. 

And  to  'Change- Alley  whirlVl  away. 

Tis  here  dame  Fbitnne  erery  day 

Opens  her  booth,  and  shows  her  plaf ; 

Here  laughing  sits  behhid  the  scene, 

Bances  her  puppets  here  nnseen, 

And  turns  her  whimsical  machine. 

Powel,  with  all  his  wire  and  wit. 

To  her  great  genhis  most  submit: 

Eseact  at  twelve  the  goddess  shows. 

And  Fame  aloud  her  trumpet  blows  ; 

^larrangues  the  mob  with  shams  and  lyesr 

And  bids  then-  actions  fall,  or  rise. 

Old  Chaos  here  his  throne  regains  ; 

And  here  in  odd  confusion  reigns  j 

All  order,  all  distinction  lost, 

Kow  high,  now  low,  the  fools  art  tost 

Here  lucky  coxcombs  Tainly  rear 

Their  giddy^  heads,  there  m  despair 

Sits  humbled  Pride,  with  down-<;ast  look. 

Bankrupts  restored,  aod  misers  brdie. 

Strange  figmea  here  oar  e3res  inrade, 

And  the  whole  world  mraasquerade ; 

A  carman  in  a  hat  aod  feather, 

A  lord  in  frieze,  bb  brsodies  kaHier  : 

Tom  Whiplash  in  his  ooacfa  of  staiOi 

Drawn  by  the  tits  he  drove  of  late : 

A  colraielof  the  bold  train-bands, 

Sellbg  his  equipage  and  landl. 

Hard-by  a  cobler,  bidding  UAt 

For  the  gold-chain,  and  next  lord  mayor: 

A  butcher  blustering  in  the  crowd, 

Of  his  late  purcfaas'd  'scutcheon  proud. 

Retains  his  cleaver  for  his  crest. 

His  motto  too  beneath  the  rest, 

*'  Virtue  and  merit  is  a  jest*' 

Two  toasts  with  all  their  trinkets  gone. 

Padding  the  streets  for  half-a-crown : 

A  daggled  countess  and  her  maid. 

Her  house-rent  and  her  slaves  u^dpakl, 

A  tailor's  wife  in  ridi  brocade. 

All  sects,  all  parties,  high  and  low. 

At  Foftime's  shrine  devoutly  bow  ; 

Nought  can  thdr  ardent  z&al  restrain, 

Where  each  man's  godliness  is  gain. 

Fkom  taverns,  meetmg-hooses,  stews. 

Atheists  and  Quakers,  bawds  and  Jews, 

Statesmen  and  fidlers,  beaux  and  porters. 

Blue  aprons  here,  and  tiiere  Une  garters. 

As  human  race  of  old  began 

From  stones  and  clods,  transform'd  to  man. 

So  from  ea^h  dunghiH,  strange  surprise  1 

In  troops  the  recent  gentry  rise. 

Of  mushroom  growth,  they  wildly  stare. 

And  ape  the  great  with  awkward  air : 

So  Pinkethman  upon  the  stag^. 

Mounting  his  ass  in  wariike  rage, 

mth  simpering  Dick^  for  his  page. 

In  lice's  itiad  rant,  with  monkey  ftice, 

Buriesques  the  prince  of  Ammon's  race. 

Industrious  Frank,  among  the  rest, 

Bought,  sold,  and  cavifl'd,  bawl'd  and  piess'd; 

Lodg'd  in  a  garret  on  the  spot. 

Followed  ihstiuetions  to  a  jot. 

The  praying  part  akme  forgot. 

Learnt  every  dealing  term  of  art. 

And  all  th'  ingeukmt  cant  by  heart; 


Nor  dovdited'bixt  he  toon  noUB  omI 

Dame  Fortune  complaisant  and  lDiid» 

After  her  oft  he  ealPd  akwd. 

But  sUU  ^he  vanished  in  tbe  erovd; 

Now  with  smooth  looks  aod  tempting  mStt 

The  faithless  hypocrite  beguiles  ; 

Then,  with  a  eool  and  sconrnftil  air. 

Bids  the  dehxded  wretch  despair; 

Takes  pet  without  the  least  pieteae^ 

And  wonden  at  his  insolence. 

Thus  with  her  fidde  humoun  vei^d. 

And  between  hopes  and  fears  perplei'd; 

His  patience  qmte  worn  out  at  hut 

Resolves  to  tluow  one  despciate  cast 

**  Tis  vain,"  said  he,  "  to  whine  and  wooi^ 

Tis  one  brisk  stroke  the  work  mot  do. 

Fortune  is  like  a  widow  won. 

And- truckles  to  the  bold  alone  ; 

I  'U  push  at  once  and  venture  all. 

At  least  I  shall  with  honour  ftdi** 

But,  curse  upon  the  treacheroot  jade^ 

Who  thus  his  services  repaki  ; 

When  now  he  thought  the  world  bii  oi«% 

He  bought  a  bear,  and  was  undone. 


CANTO    HI^ 

As  there  is  something  in  a  hee. 

An  air,  and  a  peooliar  grace. 

Which  boldest  pamters  canmit  trace ; 

That  more  than  feataras,  shape,  or  ha2r» 

Distinguishes  the  happy  fiur  ; 

Strikes  every  eye,  end  makes  her  kDOwn 

A  ruling  toast  throu^  aQ  the  town: 

So  in  each  action  tis  success 

That  gives  it  all  its  comeUness; 

Guards  it  from  censure  and  from  blaln^ 

Brightens  and  burnishes  our  fiune. 

For  what  is  virtue,  courage,  wi^ 

In  all  men,  but  a  lucky  hit  ? 

But,  vice  vers&,  where  this  (ails. 

The  wisest  conduct  nought  avaUs  ; 

Th0  man  of  merit  soon  shall  find 

The  worid  Jto  prosperoos  knaves  indb^d^ 

Hhnself  the  last  of  an  mankind. 

Too  true  poor  Frank  this  thesis  foond. 

Bankrupt,  despoiPd,  and  run  aground. 

In  durance  rile  detaia'd  and  lort. 

And  sll  bis  mic^bty  pr(Q«ls  crost : 

With  grief  and  slnme  at  once  opprest. 

Tears  swell  his  eyes,  and  sij^s  his  brnit^ 

A  poor,  foriora,  abandan'd  mke. 

Where  shall  he  turn  ?  what  meanrei  take  ? 

Betray'd,  deceiv'd,  and  ruin'dquite^ 

By  his  own  greedy  appetitn  ; 

He  mourns  his  fiital  lust  of  pelf. 

And  cufKs  I'ortune  and  himself; 

In  limbo  pent,  would  frun  get  free^ 

Importunate  for  liberty. 

So  when  the  watchful  hungry  moose. 

At  midnight  prowling  round  the  houa^ 

Winds  in  a  corner  toaated  cheese. 

Glad  the  luxurious  prey  to  seize ; 

With  whiskers  curi'o,  and  round  black  aya^ 

He  meditates  the  luscious  prize. 

Till  caught,  trepaun'd,  laments  too  lata 

The  rigorous  decrees  of  Fate :' 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ IC 


v^ 


1IBLI9.  TAI^a  te. 


«ei 


He  bites  the  wirK,«na6liBibt  ill  ^y»2ik     • 
The  wretched  capthre  thus  dittreBi^ 
Hie  busy  thougfats  mfkmvo  vett: 
Fond  OQ  each  prqjeet  te  depend. 
Kind  Hope  bk  oidy  fcittafbl<frieiid  ; 
Odd  wfaiiiKies  fltitiiig  in  hiB  bnin. 
He  plots,  contmes,  but  ell  in  -vahiy 
Appityres,  rgects,  and  IhhiiDi  sgain. 
As  wliflD  tibsHAiipvreck'd  wrelDn  w  toiC 
Pkoni  wave  to  wart,  and  almoet  toft. 
Beat  by  tbebaki>irsfrom  tiie  ihore, 
Betnms  half  drown^,  and  bugsoncfe  more 
The  fnendly  plank  he  gn^'d  before : 
So  Frank,  when  all  ezpJBdientt  ftdl. 
To  aa.ve  his  careaflBfrom  a  gaol. 
Bat  up  with  vefmhrand  wi&  eaie^ 
And  almost  ahtkngm  despair,  • 

Itesolves  onoe^iBore  to  make  his  covt 
To  h^  old  aimt,  his  last  resort : 
Takes  pen  m  hand,  noir  wrHei,  noMrtean^ 
Then  btots  his  paper  wiui  his  tears, 
Raonaacks  las  troobled  soid,  to  raise 
Each  teader  sentiineiit  and  phrase  ^ 


I  cfoi'v  tane'esRnve  supplies 
With  aitnil  oolouriag  and  di^nise.; 
Knd  to  hhDself,  lays  all  the  blame 
On  Foftnne,  that  capridioas  dame : 
In  short,  ii^Brms  her  all  was  lost. 
And  sends  it  by  the  pemy*post« 
Soonastheancitisluymph  had  read 
The  firtal  scrdl,  die  took  her  bed. 
Cold  palsies  seize  her  tivmbfing  head  ; 
She  groans,  she  sighs,  she  sobs,  die  smears 
Her  speetsdes  snd  beard  witb  tean; 
Her  nose,  that  wont  to  sjrmpathize 
WiUi  an  th*  o'erflownigs  of  her  eyes, 
Adown  in  pearly  drops  distils^ 
Th'  united  stream  eaeb  chasm  fills. 
Genera  now,  nor  Nants  will  do, 
Her  toothless  gums  tiieir  bold  let  go; 
And  on  tiie  ground,  O  fetal  stroke ! 
The  diort  coeval  pipe  n  broke : 
With  vapours  cboak'd,  entranced  she  lies. 
Belches,  and  prays,  and  f— ts,  and  dies. 
Bat  sleep,  that  kind  restoretive, 
RecalPd  her  soul,  and  bid  her  live ; 
With  cooler  thougths  the  case  she  weigfa'd. 
And  Inoui^t  her  reason  to  her  aid. 
Away  die  hobbles,  and  with  speed 
Resolves  to  see  the  captive  freed ; 
Wipe  off  this  stain  and  foal  disgrace. 
Ana  vindicate  her  ancient  race. 
With  her  a  sage  director  comes. 
More  weighty  than  a  brace  of  ptuoibs, 
A  good  man  in  tbecity  cant. 
Where  cadi,  not  morals,  makes  the  saint. 
T*  improve  a  genius  so  polite. 
The  cramsey  thing  was  dubb'd  a  knight  ? 
Fortune's  chief  confident  and  friend, 
Orown  fat'by  many  a  dividend ; 
And  still  her  fiivour  he  retains, 
3iy  want  of  merit  and  of  brains ! 
On  her  top  spoke  sublime  he  sits. 
The  jest  and  theme  of  sneering  wit^ : 
For  fools,  in  Fortune's  pillory  placed. 
Are  mounted  to  be  more  disgraced. 
Tlds  rich  okl  honks,  as  Woodcock  wise. 
Was  call'd  the  yoanker'to^advifs : 


I 


t 


'<  Y^Ming  man,»JBidM  "  «ftain  firoBitssM, 

While  joyful  tadings^Uess  thine  sais  ; 

Up  and  be  doing,  bey,  and  try 

To  conquer  F^hy  mdustry  ; 

For  know  that  all  of  mortal  VBoe^ 

Are  bom  to  kNses  and  disgnuie : 

Ev*n  I  broke  Hwioe,  I,  dieretafom 

A  tailor  despicably  poor. 

In  every  h<fte  Ant  shelter  crept, 

On  the  same  bulk,  boteh'd,  lous'd,  and  il^ 

With  scarce  oae  penny  to  prepare 

A  fnendly  halter  in  despair ; 

My  credit  like  my  garraent  torn, 

Thread-barie,  and  ragged,  over«woni^ 

Butsoon  I  patcb'd  it  up  a^sis^ 

These  busy  hands,  this  wosking  brain. 

Ne'er  eeas'd  from  labour,  pain»  and  i 

Till  Fortune  smil'd,  and  1  was  great. 

Now  at  each  pompous  city  foast. 

Who  but  sir  Tristram?  Every  ^est 

Re^MCtful  bows.     In  each  debate. 

My  nod  must  gi«<e  the  sentea 

On  me  prime  ministers  attend, 

And— Aislabie  *•.  my  "firiend  i 

In  embryo  each  bold  pfoyeot  lies. 

Till  my  consenting  puise  supplies. 

This  hand^— nay  do  •not  think  me  vah^ 

Soften'd  the  Swede,  and  huniblsd  Spahi. 

To  me  the  hir,  whom  all  adore. 

Address  theirpiayefe,  and  own  my  posrer  ; 

When  the  9X)0r  toast  by  break  of  day 

Has  punted  all  her  gold  away, 

Undress'd,  and  hi  her  mtive  charms. 

She  flies  to  these  indulgent  arms;  ^ 

She  curls -each  dimple  in  herlkoe 

To  wm  the  good  sir  Tristram's  grace  ; 

Ofiers  her  brilliants  with  a  smile^ 

That  might  an  anchoret  beguile  ; 

And  when  my  potent  aid  is  lent, 

Away  the  dear-one  wheels  content* 

He  that  can  money  get,  my  boy, 

Shall  every  other  good  enjoy ; 

Be  rich,  and  every  boon  receive. 

That  man  can  wish,  or  Heaven  can  give. 

Now  to  the  means,  dear  youth,  attend. 

By  which  thy  sorrows  soon  shall  end  ; 

Thy  good  old  aunt  resolves  to  bail 

Her  hopeful  godson  out  of  gaol  j 

But  what  is  freedom  to  the  poor  ? 

The  man  who  begs  from  door  to  door 

Is  free;  in  lazy  wretchedness 

He  lives,  till  Heaven  his  substance  blen ; 

But,  having  learnt  to  cog  and  chouse. 

To  cut  a  parse,  er  break  a  house, 

Then  soon  he  mends  his  own  apparel. 

Eats  boil'd  and  roost,  and  taps  his  barrel ; 

Drinks  double  bub,  with  all  his  might. 

And  hugs  his  doxy  every  night: 

Thy  sprightly  genius  ne'er  shall  lis 

Depr^d  by  want  and  penury; 

Go,  with  a  prosperous  merry  gale. 

To  the  South  Seas  adventurous  sail ; 

Fat  Plenty  dwells  on  those  rich  shoras» 

Adundance  opens  all  her  stores ; 

Ingots  and  peatls  for  beads  are  sold. 

And  rivers  glide  on  sands  of  gold; 

Profit  and  Pleasure,  hand  hi  hand, 

SmUs  on  the  Mds,  and  UsM  the  hmd  ; 


.Digitized  by  VjOOQ IC 


in 


SOMBEtVILE'S^POEIB. 


The  swuu  itnlabour'd  harveils  retp. 
Fountains  rua  wine,  and  vhoras  aie  che^»» 
Portune  is  always  true  and  kind, 
Nor  veers,  as  here,  with  every  wind; 
Kot,  as  in  these  penurious  islet. 
Retails  her  blessings  and  her  smiles ; 
But  deals  by  wholesale  with  her  friends, 
.And  gluts  them  with  her  dividends. 
Then  haste,  set  sail,  the  ship's  unmooc'd 
Aad  w&its  to  take  thee  now  on  board," 
The  youtl^  o'erjoy'd  this  project  hears. 
From  his  flock-bed  his  bead  he  reais. 
And  waters  all  his  rags  with  tears. 
In  short,  betook  his  friend's  advice, 
Pack'd  up  his  baggage  m  a  trice  ; 
Dancing  for  joy,  on  board  he  flew,  • 

With  all  PolUm  in  his  view. 


CANTO    IV. 

Behold  the  youth  just  now  set  ftee 
On  land,  immur'd  again  at  sea; 
Stow'd  with  his  cargo  in  the  bold. 
In  quest  of  other  worlds  for  goUL 
He  who  so  late  regal'd  at  ease. 
On  olios,  soups,  and  firicassees  ; 
Drank  with, the  witty  and  the  gay. 
Sparkling  Champaign,  and  rich  Tokay; 
Now  breaks  his  fest  with  Suffolk  cheese. 
And  bursts  at  noon  with  pork  and  pease; 
Instead  of  wine,  content  to  sip, ' 
With  noisy  tars,  their  nauseous  flip : 
Thehr  breath  with  chew'd  mundungus  sweet. 
Their  jests  more  Ailsome  than  their  meat. 
While  thunder  rolls,  and  storms  arise. 
He  snoring  in  his  hammock  lies  ; 
In  golden  dreams  enjoys  the  night. 
And  counts  his  bags  with  vast  delight. 
Mountains  of  gold  erect  his  throne. 
Each  precious  gem  is  now  his  own  ; 
Kind  Jove  descends  hi  golden  sl^et, 
Pactolus  murmurs  at  his  foet; 
The  sea  gives  up  its  hoarded  store. 
Possessing  all,  he  covets  more. 
O  Gokl !  attractive  Gold !  in  vain 
Honour  and  conscience  would  restrain 
Thy  boundless  universal  reign. 
To  thee  each  stubborn  virtue  bends. 
The  man  oblig'd  betrays  his  friends  ; 
The  patriot  quits  his  country's  cause* 
And  sells  her  liberty  and  laws : 
The  pious  prude 's  no  longer  nice. 
And  ev'n  lawn  sleeves  can  flatter  vice. 
At  thy  too  absolute  command, 
Thy  zealots  ransack  sea  and  land : 
Wheree'cr  th^  beams  thy  power  di^lay. 
The  swarming  insects  haste  away. 
To  bask  in  thy  refulgent  ray. 

Now  the  bold  crew  with  prosperous  wind. 
Leave  the  retreating  land  b^nd ; 
Feariess  they  quit  their  native  shore. 
And  Albion's  clifb  are  seen  no  more. 
Then  on  the  wide  Atlantic  borne. 
Their  rigging  and  their  tackle  torn  ; 
Danger  in  various  shapes  appears. 
Sudden  alarms,  and  shivering  fean. 
Here,  might  some  copious  bard  dilate 
And  show  fierce  Neptune  drawn  in  state  ; 


While  guards  of  Tritooi  obac  hii  W13V 

And  Nereids  nmnd  his  chariot'  play  ^ 

Then  bid  the  stormy  Boreas  rise,  « 

And  fbrky  lightning  cleave  the  skie»  ; 

The  ship  toig^  foundering  in  the  deqp» 

Or  bounding  o'er  the  ridgy  sta^ : 

Describe  the  monsters  of  tiie  main. 

The  Phocas,  and  their  finny  train. 

Tornados,  hurricanes,  and  rain. 

Spouts,  shoals,  and  rocks  of  dreadful  nx 

.Ajid  pirates  lurking  for  their  prize  ; 

Amazing  miracles  rehearse. 

And  turn  all  Dampier  into  veise. 

My  negligent  and  ImmMe  Muse 

Los  ambitious  aims  poimes  ; 

Content  with  more  fomiliar  phnse. 

Nor  deals  in  such  embroider'd  layi ; 

Pleas'd  if  my  rhime  just  measure  keqw. 

And  stretch'd  at  ease  my  reader  aleqps* 

Hibernian  matrons  thus  of  old. 

Their  soporific  stories  told  ; 

To  sleep  in  vain  the  patient  strove, 

Peiplex'd  with  business,  cross'd  in  love  f 

Till  soothing  tales  becalm'd  his  breast. 

And  lull'd  his  troubled  soul  to  t&L 

Suffice  it  only  to  itcite. 

They  drank  all  day,  they  snor'd  all  lof^t. 

And,  after  many  moons  were  past. 

They  made  the  wish'd-for  shores  at  last. 

Frank,  with  his  cargo  in  his  hand, 

Leap'd  joyful  on  the  goklen  strand  ; 

Open'd  his  toy-shop  in  the  port. 

Trinkets  of  various  size  and  sort; 

Bracelets  and  combs,  bodkins  aad  tw8e2erB» 

Bath-metal  rings,  and  knives,  and  scaanrt^ 

And  in  one  lucky  day  got  more 

Than  Bubble-boy  in  half  a  score  : 

For  Fortune  now,  no  longer  coy, 

Smil'd  on  her  darling  favourite  hoy  ; 

No  longer  from  his  arms  retir'd. 

But  gave  him  all  his  heart  desir'd. 

Ah  !  thoughtless  youth  !  in  time  beware. 

And  shun  the  treacherous  harlot's  snare  ; 

The  wiser  savages'  behold. 

Who  truck  not  liberty  for  gold  ; 

Proof  against  all  her  subtle  wiles. 

Regardless  of  her  frowns  or  smil^  ; 

If  frugal  Nature  want  supplies. 

The  lance  or  dart  unerring  flies : 

The  mountain  boar  their  prey  descends. 

Or  the  fat  kid  r^;ale6  their  friends ; 

The  jocund  tribe,  from  sun  to  sun. 

Feast  on  the  prize  their  valour  won. 

Cease,  babbling  Muse,  thy  vain  advice, 

Tis  thrown  away  on  Avarice : 

Bid  hungry  lions  quit  their  prey. 

Or  streams  that  down  the  mountains  stray 

Divert  their  course,  return  again, 

And  climb,  the  steep  from  whence  they.  qame. 

Unblest  with  his  ill-gotten  store, 
Th'  insatiate  youth  still  craves  for  more  ; 
To  counsel  d^,  t'  examples  blind. 
Scrapes  up  whatever  he  can  find. 
Now  master  of  a  vessel  grown. 
With  all  the  gUtteriAg  froigbt  his  oim. 
To  Fortune  still  he  makes  his  court. 
And  coasts  along  from  port  to  port. 
Each  rolling.tide  brings  fresh 'supplies. 
And  heaps  on  heaps  delight  bis  eyei^. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


tASUE^  TALES,  Sic 


Its 


Through  Panatta's  d^lidous  bay. 
The  loaded  Vessel  ploagfas  her  way; 
With  the  rich  freight  oppressM  she  saOs, 
ilnd  summons  all  the  frioidly  gales. 
FVuk  on  her  deck  triamphant  stood, 
And  viewed  the  calm  transparent  flood : 
*'  Let  book.|eani*d  sots/'  said  he,  "  adaie 
Th*  aaptring  hills  that  grace  thy  shore; 
Thy  verdant  isles,  the  groves  that  bow 
Th«^  nodding  heads,  and  shade  thy  brow  ; 
Thy  face  serene,  thy  gentle  breast. 
Where  Syrens  sing,  and  Halcyona  rest : 
Propitioos  flood !  on  me  bestow 
The  treasures  of  thy  depths  below; 
Wliich  long  inrthy  dark  womb  have  slept. 
From  age  to  age  securely  kept.'' 
Scarce  had  he  spoke,  when,  strange  surprise ! 
Th'  indignant  waves  in  mountains  rise, 
And  hurricanes  invade  the  skies ; 
The  diip  against  the  shoals  was  struck, 
And  in  a  thousand  pieces  broke ; 
But  one  poor  trusty  plank,  to  save 
Its  amaer  from  the  watery  grave : 
On  this  be  mounts,  is  cast  on  shoro. 
Half  dead,  a  bankrupt  as  before : 
Spiritleas,  fiunting,  and  alone, 
C>n  the  Inre  beach  he  makes  his  m6an. 
Then  climbs  the  ragged  rock,  t'czpltte 
If  aught  was  drivmg  to  the  shore. 
The  poor  remains  of  all  his  store : 
Witii  greedy  diligence  prepared 
To  save  whatever  the  waves  had  spaVd. 
But  oh  !  the  wretch  expects  in  vain 
ConqMSsion  fiom  the  furious  main  ; 
Men,  goods,  are  sunk.    Itfad  with  despair 
He  beat  his  breast,  he  tore  his  hair : 
Then  leaning  o'er  the  crag^  steep 
Jjook'd  down  into  the  boiling  deep ; 
Almost  resolv'd  to  cast  himself, 
And  perish  with  hb  dear,  dear  pel^ 

CANTO    V. 

1p  Heaven  the  thriving  trader  bless. 
What  fewning  crowds  about  him  press ! 
But,  if  be  fan,  distress'd  and  poor. 
His  mob  of  friends  are  seen  no  mote : 
For  all  men  bold  it  meet  to  fly 
Th'  infectious  breath  of  Poverty. 
Poor  Frank,  deserted  and  forlorn. 
Curses  the  day  that  he  was  bom : 
Each  treacherous  crony  hides  his  fkce. 
Or  starts  whene'er  be  haunts  the  place. 
His  wealth  thus  lost,  with  that  his  friends. 
On  Fortune  still  the  youth  depends : 
**  One  smile,**  said  he,  *'  can  soon  restore 
A  bankiupt  wretch,  and  give  him  more ; 
She  will  not,  sure,  refuse  her  aid  ?" 
Fallacious  hope  !  for  the  false  jade 
Thai  very  day  took  wing,  was  flown. 
And  on  her  wonted  journey  gone 
(Intent  her  costly  goods  to  sell) 
From  Panama  to  Portobel : 
Five  hundred  mules  her  baggage  beaf, 
And  groan  beneath  the  precious  ware,. 
The  goddess  rides  sublime  in  air  ; 
And  hence  conveys  a  fresh  supply. 
For  pnde,  debate,  and  luxury. 


Frank,  when  he  heard  ^'  unwelcome  news. 
Like  a  staunch  hound  the  chase  pursues. 
Takes  the  same  rout,  doubles  his  speed. 
Nor  doubts  her  help  in  time  of  need. 

O'er  the  wide  waste,  through  pathlraw  ways. 
The  solitary  pilgrim  strays  ; 
Now  on  the  swampy  desert  plain. 
Through  brakes  of  mangroves  works  with  pain; 
Then  climbs  the  hills  with  many  a  groan. 
And  melts  beneath  the  torrid  zone. 
With  berries  and  green  plantains  fbd 
On  the  parch'd  earth  he  leans  his  head  ; 
Fainting  with  thirst,  to  Heaven  he  cries. 
But  finds  no  stream  bdt  fnun  his  eyes. 
Ah,  wre^h  !  tby  vam  laments  forbear. 
And  for  a  worse  extreme  prepare  ; 
Sudden  the  lowering  storms  arise. 
The  bursting  thunder  rends  th^  skies^ 
Aslant  the  ruddy  lightning  flies ; 
Darts.through  Uie  gloom  a  transient  ray. 
And  gives  a  short,  but  dreadful  day: 
With  pealing  rain  the  woods  resound, 
Convcdstons  shake  the  solid  ground. 
Benumb'd  with  cold,  but  nuMre  with  fear. 
Strange  phantoms  to  his  nund  mear. 
The  wolves  around  him  howl  for  food. 
The  ravenfms  tigers  hunt  for  Uood, 
And  canihals  more  fierce  than  they 
(Monsters  who  make  manlund  their  prey) 
Riot  and  feast  on  human  gore, 
And,  still  insatiate,  thirsts  for  more. 
Half  dead  at  every  noise  he  bears. 
His  fancy  multiplies  his  fears ; 
Whatever  he  read  or  heard  of  obi, 
Whate'er  his  nurse  or  Crusoe  told. 
Each  tragic  scene  his  eyes  behold : 
Things  pBst  as  present  fear  ^iplies, 
Their  pains  he  bears,  their  deaths  he  die&> 

At  length  the  Son  began  to  peep. 
And  gild  thesurfiBU»  of  the  deep. 
Then  on  the  reeking  moisture  fled. 
The  scattered  clouds  before  him  fled. 
The  rivers  shrunk  into  their  bed : 
Nature  revives ;  the  feather'd  throng 
Salute  the  morning  with  a  song. 
Frank  with  his  feUow-brutes  arose. 
Yet  dreaming  still  he  saw  his  foes, 
Reeb  to  and  fro,  laments  and  grisses. 
And  starting,  doubts  if  yet  he  lives. 
At  last  his  spirits  mend  their  pace. 
And  Hope  sat  dawning  on  his  face ; 
**  Ev'n  such  is  human  life,'*  said  he, 
**  A  night  of  dread  and  misery, 
nil  Heaven  relents,  relieves  our  pain. 
And  sun-shine  day  return  again. 
O  Fortune !  who  dost  now  bestow. 
Frowning,  this  bitter  cup  of  woe. 
Do  not  thy  faithful  slave  destroy. 
But  give  th*  alternative  of  joy." 
Then  many  a  painful  step  he  takes. 
O'er  hills  and  vales, 'through  woods  and  brakas : 
No  sturdy  d&tperate  buccaneer 
E*er  suffier'd  hardships  more  sevare. 
Stubborn,  incorrigibly  blind. 
No  dangers  can  divert  his  mind  ; 
His  tedious  journey  he  pursues. 
At  last  his  eye  transported  view* 
Fair  Portobel,  whose  rising  spires 
Inflame  his  hOut  inth  new  desires. 


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fi4 


SOMEilVILFS  PGHMi. 


Secure  c£  Fortune's  gnoe,  be  miles. 

And  flattering  Hope  the  wretch  b^;uiles. 

Thotigh  nature  calls  for  sleep  and  food. 

Yet  stronger  avarice  subdued ; 

Ev'n  sbamefiil  nakedness  and  pain. 

And  thirst  and  hunger,  plead  in  vain : 

No  rest  he  gives  his  weary  feet,  < 

Fortune  heseeks  horn  street  to  street ; 

Careful  in. every  comer  pries, 

^ow  here,  now  there,  impatient  flies,  . 

Where  ever  bu^  crowds  resort. 

The  change,  the  market,  and  the  post; 

In  vain  he  turds  his  eye-balls  round. 

Fortune  was  no  where*  to  be  found  i 

The  jilt,  not  Amy  hoars  before. 

With  the  Plate-fleet  had  left  the  shoWp 

Laughs  at  the  credulous  fcol  behind. 

And  joyful  skuds  before  the  wind. 

Poor  Frank  forsaken  on  the  coast^ 

All  his  fond  bqies  at  once  are  lost. 

Aghast  the  swelling  saUs  he  views. 

And  with  his  eye  the  fleet  purssM*, 

Till,  lessenM  to  Ms  wearied  sight. 

It  leaves  him  to  despair  and  inglit 

So  when  the  fiuthleis  Theseus  fled 

The  Cretan  nymph's  deserted  bed, 

Awak*d,  at  distance  on  the  main. 

She  view'd  the  proqierons  peijnr*d  swaj% 

And  called  th'  avenging  Gods  in  vain. 

Prostrate  on  earth  till  break  of  day. 

Senseless  and  motiooless  he  lay. 

Till  tears  at  last  find  oat  tfaenr  way  I 

Gush  like  a  torrent  iiom  his  eyes. 

In  bittemeSs  of  soul  he  cries, 

**  O,  Fortune !  now  too  late  Isee« 

Top  late,  alas !  thy  traachery. 

Wretch  that  I  am,  abandoned,  lost. 

About  the  world  at  random  tort. 

Whither,  oh  whitiier shall  I  run? 

Sore  pinch'd  with  hunger,  and  i 

In  the  dark  mines  go  hide  thy  bead 

Accurs'd,  exchange  thy  sweat  for  bread. 

Skulk  under  ground,  in  Eaith*s  dark  womb 

Go  slave,  and  dig  thyself  a  tomb : 

There's  gold  enough ;  pernicious  gold ; 

To  which  long  siooe  thy  peace  was  sold  ; 

Vain  helpless  idol !  canst  thou  save 

This  shattered  oareanj  from  the  grave  ? 

Bestless  disturber  of  mankind. 

Canst  thou  give  health,  or  peaee  of  mind  ? 

Ah  no,  deceived  the  foel  shall  be 

Who  puts  his  confidence  in  thee. 

Fatally  blind,  my  native  home 

I  left,  in  this  nide  world  to  roam; 

O,  brother !  shall  I  view  no  more 

Thy  peaceftil  bowers?  foir  Albion's  shore ? 

Yes  (if  kuMl  Heaven  my  life  shall  q>are) 

Some  happy  momenls  yet  Til  share. 

In  thy  delightful  blest  retreat. 

With  thee  contemn  the  rich  sod  great; 

Redeem  my  time  mispent,  and  wait 

Till  death  relieve  th>  unfortunate." 

Adversity,  sage  -noeftd  guest. 
Severe  instructor,  but  the  best; 
It  is  from  thee  alo^e  we  know 
Justly  to  value  things  betow ; 
Right  Reason's  ever  faithful  iriend. 
To  thee  our  haughty  passions  bend ; 
Tam'd  by  thy  rod,  poo^  PrBid;.«i  last 
Repents  of  aU  his  follies  past  j 


Resign*d,  and  patient  to  anditfi 

Th/6se  ills,  which  Heaven  alone  can  caxSf 

With  vaio  pursuits  and  labours  wooit 

He  meditates  a  quick  retuni, 

Loi^  to  revisit  yet  once  moiet. 

Poor  prodigal !  his  native  ^hore. 

In  the  next  ship  for  Britain  bound. 

Glad  Frank  a  ready  passage  found; 

Nor  vessel  now,  nor  freight  his  own. 

He  fears  po  longer  Fortune's  frown; 

No  property  but  life  his  share, 

life,  a  frail  ^ood  not  worth  his  care; 

Active  and  willing  to  obey, 

A  merry  mariner  and  gay. 

He  hands  the  sails,  and  jokes  all  day. 

At  night  no  dreams  disturb  his  rest. 

No  passions  riot  in  bis  breast ; 

For,  having  nothing  left  to  lose. 

Sweet  and  unbroken  his  repose : 

And  now  fai^f  Albion's  cliffs  are  seen^ 

And  hills  with  fruitful  herbage  green  : 

His  heart  beats  quick,  the  joy  that  ties 

His  foltering  tongue  bursts  from  his  eyes. 

At  length,  thus  haiPd  the  well-known  land. 

And  kneeling  kiss'd  the  happy  strand. 

"  And  do  I  then  draw  native  air. 

After  an  age  of  toil  and  cam? 

O  welcome  parent  isle !  no  waan 

The  vagrant  shall  desevt  thy  shores 

But,  flying  to  thy  Idnd  embrace. 

Here  end  his  life's  laborious  raoa.** 

So  when  the  stag,  intent  t»  rove. 

Quits  the  safe  park  anda&skeraig  grove. 

Tops  the  high  pale,  strolls  uaoonfia'd, 

Aud  leaves  the  laxy  herd  behind. 

Blest  in  his  happy  change  a  whila, 

Oom  fiekls  and  flowery  meftdowa  smile. 

The  pamper'd  beast  enji^  the  qpoil  i 

Till  on  the  next  returning  iiOBn, 

Alarm'd,  he  he^tu  the  fetal  horn  ; 

Before  the  stanch,  blood  thirsty  hoimds. 

Panting,  o'er  hills  unknown  he  bounds. 

With  clamour  every  wood  laiQunds : 

He  creeps  the  thorny  brakes  with  pain. 

He  seeks  the  distant  stream  in  vain. 

And  now,  by  sad  experience -wise. 

To  his  dear  home  the  rambler  flies; 

His  old  enclosure  gains  onCe  more. 

And  joins  the  herd  he  scom'd  beftwe. 

Nor  are  his  labours  finished  yet. 
Hunger  and  thirst,  and  pain  and  sweat. 
And  many  a  tedious  mile  remains. 
Before  his  brother's  house  he  gains. 
Without  one  doit  his  purse  to  bless. 
Nor  very  elegant  his  dress  ; 
With  a  tarr'd  jump,  a  crooked  bat. 
Scarce  one  whole  shoe,  and  half  a  hat  ( 
From  door  to  door  the  stroller  skipp'd. 
Some  times  reliev'd,  but  oftener  whipp'd  ; 
Sun-burnt  and  raggied,  on  he  feres. 
At  last  the  mansion-house  a{qpear% 
Timdy  relief  for  all  his  cares. 
Around  he  gaz'd,  his  greedy  stg^ 
Devours  each  olgect  with  delight; 
Through  each«known  haunt  transported  nwh 
Gay  smiling  fields,  and  shady  groves. 
Once  conscious  of  his  youthful  loves. 
About  the  hospitable  gate 
Ckowds  of  dejected  wretches  wait; 


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FABLES,  TALES,  kc 


fcach  iay  kind  BoVs  diffbsjre  hand, 

CheaHd  iod  refiresh'd  the  tatter'd  traind. 

Proud  the  most  god-h*ke  joy  to  share. 

He  fed  the  hungry,  cloath'd  the  bare. 

Frank  amongst  these  his  station  chose, 

With  looks  revealing  inward  woes : 

When,  lo !  with  wonder  and  sorprize. 

He  saw  dame  Fortune  in  disguise ; 

He  saw,  bat  scarce  believM  his  eyes. 

Her  fawning  smiles,  her  tricking  air, 

Th»  egregious  hypocrite  declare; 

A  gypsy's  mantle  round  her  spread. 

Of  various  dye,  white,  yellow,  red  ! 

Strange  feats  she  promisM,  clamour'd  loud, 

And  with  her  cant  amusM  the  crowd : 

TTiere  every  day  impatient  ply*d, 

PnshM  to  get  in,  but  still  deny'd ; 

For  Bob,  who  knew  the  subtle  whore. 

Thrust  the  fidse  vagrant  from  his  door. 

But,  when  the  stranger's  face  he  vicw*d. 

With  no  decdtful  tears  bedew'd. 

His  bodmg  heart  began  to  melt, 
And  morotlian  usual  pity  felt: 
He  trac'd  his  features  o'er  and  o'er, 

That  spcke  him  better  bom,  though  poor. 

Though  clothed  in  rags,  genteel  his  mien, 
That  face  he  somewhere  must  have  seen : 
Nature  at  last  reveals  the  truth. 
He  knowr,  and  owns  the  ha^iless  youth. 
Surpris'd,  and  speechless,  both  embrace. 
And  mingling  tears  overflow  each  face ; 
Tin  Bob  thos  eas'd  his  labouring  thought. 
And  this  instructive  moral  taught 
"  Welcome,  my  brother,  to  my  longing  arms. 
Here  on  my  1x)6om  rest  secure  from  harms  ; 
See  Fortune  there,  that  felse  delusive  jade. 
To  whom  thy  prayers  and  ardent  vows  were  paid : 
She  (like  hfer  sex)  the  fond  pursuer  flies ; 
Bat  slight  the  jilt,  and  at  thy  feet  she  dies. 
Now  safe  in  port,  indulge  thyself  on  shore, 
Oh,  tempt  the  faithless  winds  and  seas  no  more  ; 
Let  unavailing  toils,  and  dangers  past, 
Tbou^  late,  this  useful  lesson  teach  at  last, 
Tme  happiness  is  only  to  be  found 
In  a  contented  mind,  a  body  sound, 
All  else  b  dream,  a  dance  on  fiiry  ground : 
While  restless  fools  each  idle  whim  pursue. 
And  still  one  wish  obtain'd  creates  a  new, 
like  froward  babes,  the  toys  they  have,  detest. 
While  itill  the  newest  trifle  pleases  best: 
I^  as,  my  brother,  rich  in  wisdom's  store. 
What  Heaven  has  lent,  enjoy,  nor  covet  more  ; 
Subdue  onr  passions,  curb  their  saucy  rage. 
And  to  oorselveB  restore  the  golden  age. 


^fiS 


THE  DEVIL  OUTfFITTED: 

A  TALE. 

A  ficAi  Uv'd  on  this  side  Trent, 
l^giooi,  leam'd,  benevolent, 
Pore  was  his  life,  in  deed,  word,  thon^it, 
A  comment  on  the  truths  he  taught : 
His  parish  large,  his  income  small, 
YetseMom  wanted  wherewithal ; 
For  against  every  merry  tide 
Madam  would  carefully  provide. 
A  painfiil  pastor ;  but  his  sheep, 
41m  !  witfam  tio  boMfidi  would  kM : 
VOL  XL 


A  scabby  flock,  that  every  day 

Run  riot«  and  would  go  astray. 

He  thump'd  his  cushion,  fretted,  vext, 

Thump'd  o'er  again  each  useful  text ; 

Rebnk'd,  exhorted,  all  in  vain. 

His  parish  was  the  more  profene : 

The  scrubs  would  have  their  wicked  will, 

And  cnnnmg  Satan  triumph'd  still. 

At  last,  when  each  expedient  fail'd. 

And  serious  measures  nought  avail 'd, 

it  came  into  his  head,  to  try 

The  force  of  wit  and  raillery. 

The  good  man  was  by  nature  gay. 

Could  gibe  and  joke,  as  well  as  pray  ; 

Not  like  some  bide-bound  folk,  who  chas« 

Each  merry  smile  firom  their  dull  face,  ^ 

And  think  pride  zeal,  ill-nature  grace. 

At  christenings  and  each  jovial  feast. 

He  singled  out  the  sinfid  beast : 

Let  his  all -pointed  arrows  fly. 

Told  thjs  and  that,  looked  very  sly. 

And  left  my  masters  to  apply. 

His  tales  were  humorous,  often  tru^ 

And  now  and  then  set  off  to  view 

With  lucky  fictions  and  sheer  wit. 

That  pierc'd,  where  truth  could  never  hit. 

The  laugh  was  always  op  his  sid^. 

While  passive  fools  by  turns  deride  ; 

And,  giggling  thus  atone  aaother. 

Each  jeering  lout  reform'd  his  brother  t 

Till  the  whole  parish  was  with  ease 

Sham'd  into  virtue  by  degrees : 

Then  be  adtis'd,  and  try  a  tale. 

When  Chrysostom  and  Austin  fliil. 


Tfll 

OFFICIOUS  MESSENGER : 

A  TALE. 

Man,  of  precarious  science  rain. 
Treats  other  creatures  with  disdain ; 
Nor  Pug  nor  Shock  have  conmion  sense. 
Nor  even  Pol  the  least  pretence. 
Though  she  prate  better  than  us  all. 
To  be  accounted  rational. 
The  brute  creation  here  below. 
It  seems,  is  Nature's  puppet-show1 
But  clock-work  all,  and  mere  machine. 
What  can  these  idle  gimcracks  mean  ; 
Ye  world-makers  of  Gresham-hall, 
Dog  Rover  shall  confute  you  all ; 
Shall  prove  that  every  reasoning  brute. 
Like  Ben- or  Ban^.can  dispute ; 
Can  apprehend,  judge,  syllogize. 
Or  like  proud  Bentley  criticize ; 
At  a  moot  pdnt,  or  odd  disaster. 
Is  often  wiser  than  his  master. 
He  may  mistake  sometimes,  tis  true. 
None  are  mfalKble  but  you. 
The  dog  whom  nothrag  can  mislead 
Must  be  a  dog  of  parts  indeed : 
But  to  my  tale;  hear  me,  tny  friend. 
And  with  due  gravity  attend. 

Rover,  as  iieralds  are  agreed. 
Well-bom,  and  of  the  setting  breed ; 
Rang'd  high,  was  stout,  of  nose  acute, 
A  very  iMm'd  and  courteous  brute. 

Q 


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Sd6 


soMERvnrs  poems. 


In  parallel  lines  hisgronnd  he  beat. 
Not  such  as  in  one  oeotre  meet. 
In  thoee  let  blundering  doctors  deal^ 
His  were  exactly  paralleL 
When  tainted  gales  the  game  betray, 
Down  close  he  sinks,  and  ^es  bis  prey* 
Though  different  passions  tempt  his  soaiI, 
True  as  the  needle  to  the  pole, 
He  keeps  his  point,  and  panting  lies 
The  floating  net  above  him  flies, 
Then,  dropping,  sweep  the  fluttering  prize. 
Nor  this  his  only  excellence : 
When  surly  farmers  took  oifenoe. 
And  the  n|nk  com  the  sport  deny'd. 
Still  fiuthfol  to  his  master*8  side, 
A  thousaiid  pretty  pranks  he  play'd. 
And  cbearful  each  command  obeyed  : 
Humble  his  mind,  though  great  his  wit. 
Would  lug  a  pig,  or  turn  the  spit ; 
Would  fetch  and  cairy,  leap  o'er  sticks. 
And  forty  such  diverting  tricks. 
Nor  Partridge,  nor  wise  Qadbury, 
Could  find  lost  goods  so  soon  as  he; 
Bid  him  go  back  a  mile  of  more. 
And'  seek  the  g^ve  you  hid  before. 
Still  his  unerring  nose  would  wind  it, 
-  If  above  ground,  was  sure  to  find  it; 
Whimpering  for  joy  his  master  gpreet. 
And  humbly  by  it  at  his  feet 

But  hold— it  cannot  be  deny'd. 
That  useful  talents  misapply'd. 
May  make  wild  work.    It  bapt  one  day^ 
Sjquire  Lobb,  his  master,  took  his  way, 
New  shav*d,  and  smug,  and  very  tight. 
To  compliment  a  neighbouring  knight; 
In  his  best  trowsers  he  appears 
(A  comely  person  for  his  years) ; 
And  clean  white  drawers,  that  many  a  day 
In  Icvender  and  rose-cakes  lay. 
Across  his  brawny  shoulders  strung. 
On  his  left  side  his  dagger  hung  ; 
Dead-doing  blade  !  a  dreadful  guest. 
Or  in  the  fteld,  or  at  the  feast. 
No  firanklin  cairing  of  a  chin^ 
At  ClirisUde,  ever  looked  so  fine. 
With  him'  obsequious  Rover  trudg'd, 
"Nor  from  his  heels  one  moment  budg'4 1 
A  while  tliey  travelled,  when  within 
Poor  Lobb  perceived  a  rumbling  din: 
Then  warring  winds,  for  want  of  vent. 
Shook  all  his  earthly  tenement. 
So  in  the  body  politic 
fFor  states  sometimes,  like  men,  are  sick) 
Dark  Faction  mutters  through  the  crowd. 
Ere  bare-fac'd  Treason  roars  alond  ; 
Whether  crude  humours  undigested 
His  labouring  entrails  had  infested. 
Or  last  m'ght*s  load  of  bottled  ale, 
Oruwa  mutinous,  was  breaking  gaol : 
The  cause  of  this  his  aukward  pain, 
Let  Johnston  or  let  H — ^th  explain ; 
Whose  learned  noses  may  discover. 
Why  nature's  stlnk-pot  thus  ran  over. 
My  province  is  th'  dTect  to  trace, 
And  give  each  point  its  proper  grace, 
Th*  eflfect,  O  lamentable  case  ! 
Long  had  he  struggled,  but  in  vain. 
The  factious  tumult  to  restrain  t 


Whatshouklhedo?  Wnwnaiyroc^ 
PressM  on,  and  it  was  time,  nodonbt, 
T*  unbutton,  and  to  let  all  out. 
The  trowsers  soon* his  will  obey ! 
Not  so  his  stubborn  drawers,  for  they. 
Beneath  his  hanging  paundi  close  ty'd. 
His  utmost  art  and  pains  defy'd: 
He  drew  his  dagger  on  the  8iK>t, 
ResolWd  to  cut  the  Gordian  knoC 
In  the  same  road  just  then  passed  by 
(Such  was  the  will  of  Destiny) 
The  courteous  curate  of  the  place. 
Good-nature  shone  o'er  all  )m  foce  ; 
Surprised  the  flaming  blade  to  view. 
And  deeming  slaughter  mustensne. 
Off  from  his  hack  himself  he  threw. 
Then  without  ceremony  seiss'd 
The  squire,  impatient  to  be  eas'd. 
**  Lord  !  master  Lobb,  who  would  have  thought 
The  fiend  had  e'er  so  strongly  wrought  ? 
Is  suicide  so  slight  a  fault  ? 
Rip  up  thy  guts,  man !  Whatr— go  quick 
To  Hell  ?  Outrageous  lunatic  ! 
But,  by  tlie  blessing,  I  '11  prevent 
With  this  right  hand,  thy  foul  intent" 
Then  gripp'd  the  dagger  fast  i  the  squire^ 
Like  Pelcus*  son,  looked  pale  with  ire  ; 
While  the  good  man  like  Pallas  stood, 
Aiid  checkM  his  eager  thirst  for  blood. 
At  last,  when  both  a  while  had  strained. 
Strength,  join'd  with  zeal,  the  conquest  gain*d> 
The  curate  in  all  points  obeyed. 
Into  the  sheath  retuips  the  blade : 
But  first  th'  unhappy  squire  he  swore, 
T'  attempt  upon  his  life  no  more. 
With  sage  advice  his  speech  he  clos'd. 
And  left  him  (as  he  thought)  compos'd^ 
But  was  it  so,  friend  Lobb ;  I  own, 
Mbfortime  seldom  comes  alone  ; 
Satan  supplies  the  swelling  tide, 
And  ills  on  ills  are  multiply'd. 
Subdued  and  all  his  measures  brok^ 
His  purpose  and  intent  mistook  ; 
Within  his  drawers,  alas !  he  found     - 
His  guts  let  out  without  a  wound : 
For,  in  the  conflict,  straining  hard. 
He  left  his  i)ostem-gate  unbarrM ; 
Most  woefully  bedawb'd,  he  moans 
His  piteoiiji  case,  he  sighs,  he  groaof. 
To  lose  his  dinner,  and  return, 
Was  very  hai-d,  not  to  be  borne: 
Hunger,  they  say,  parent  of  arts. 
Will  make  a  fool  a  map  of  parts. 
The  sharp-set  squire  resolves  at  lasty 
Whatever  befel  him  not  to  fast; 
He  musM  a  while,  chaf  d,  stra'm'd  his  w(bw 
At  last  on  this  expedient  hits ; 
To  the  next  brook  with  sober  pace 
He  teuds,  preparing  to  uncase. 
Straddling  and  muttering  all  the  way, 
.  Cursed  inwardly  th'  unlucky  day. 
The  coast  now  clear,  no  soul  in  view. 
Off  in  a  tncehis  trowsers  drew; 
More  leisurely  his  drawers,  for  cart 
And  caution  was  convenient  there : 
So  fast  the  plaister'd  birdlime  stuckf 
The  skin  came  off  at  every  pluck. 
Sorely  he  gaul'd  each  brawny  haoi^' 


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FABLES,  TALES^  ice 


22r 


Kor  other  parti  ewapM,  which  shame 
Forbids  k  bashftil  Muse  to  name. 
Kot  without  pain  the  work  achieved, 
He  icnibM  and  wasb'd  the  parts  ag^cv*d 
Tlien,  with  nice  hand  and  look  sedate, 
Foldt  up  his  drarwers,  with  their  rich  freight. 
And  hkkt  them  in  a  biteh,  at  leisure 
Reaolv'd  to  fetch  bis  hidden  treasUre : 
The  trusty  Aover  lay  hard  by, 
Obcerring  all  with  curioas  eye. 

Now  ri^d  again,  once  more  a  beau. 
And  matters  fixM  m  statu  quo. 
Brisk  as  «*8nake  in  merry  May, 
That  jost  has  cast  his  slough  away, 
Oladiome  he  capered  o'er  the  gieen. 
As  he  presum'd  both  sweet  and  clean ; 
For,  oh  !  aoMnigbt  us  mortal  elves. 
How  few  there  are  smell  out  themselves ! 
With  a  mole*s  ear,  and  eagle's  eye, 
And  with  a  blood-hound's  nose,  we  Hy 
Od  others'  fitalts  implacably. 
But  where  *b  that  car,  that  eye,  that  nose. 
Against  itMnaster  will  di>po6e  ? 
Raddy  miss  Pnie,  with  golden  hair. 
Stinks  like  a  pole-cat  or  a  bear, 
Yet  romps  about  me  every  day. 
Sweeter,  she  thinks,  than  new-made  hay, 
Lord  Plausible,  at  Tom's  and  Will's, 
Whose  poisonous  breath  in  whispers  kills, 
Still  boases  in  my  ear,  nor  knows 
What  &tal  secrets  he  bestows : 
Let  him  destroy  each  day  a  score, 
Tis  mere  chance-medley,  and  no  more* 
In  fine,  self-love  bribes  every  sense. 
And  all  at  home  is  excellence. 

The  squire  arriv'd  in  decent  plight. 
With  reverence  due  salutes  the  knight ; 
Compliments  past,  the  dinner-bell 
Rung  quick  and  loud,  harmonious  knell 
To  greedy  Lobb  !  Th'  Orphan  lyre 
Did  ne'er  sdch  rapturous  joy  inspire ; 
Though  this  the  saraj^e  throng  obey. 
That  hunger  tames  more  fierce  than  they. 
In  comely  order  now  appear, 
the  fijotmen  loaded  with  good  cheer, 
H^  ladyship  bcought  up  the  rear. 
Sifeipering  she  lisps,  **  Your  servant,  sir-* 
The  wajfB  are  bad,  one  can't  well  stir 
Abroad— or  twcse  indeed  unkhid 
To  leave  good  Mn.  Lobb  behind— 
5^  's  well,  I  hope— Master,  they  say. 
Comes  on  apace— How  's  miss,  I  pray  ?" 
Lobb  bow*d^  and  cring'd ;  and,  muttering  low, 
>Cade  for  his  chair,  would  fiiin  fell-to. 
These  weighty  points  adjusted,  soon 
My  lady  brand'ishes  her  spoon. 
I'nhappy  Lobb,  picas'd  with  his  treat, 
And  minding  nothing  but  his  meat. 
Too  near  the  fire  had  chose  his  seat: 
When,  oh  1  th*  effluvia  of  his  bum 
B^an  amain  to  scent  the  room. 
Ambrosial  sweets,  and  rich  perfUme. 
The  flickering  Cbotman  stopt  his  nose ; 
"nie  chaplain  too,  under  the  rose, 
Made  aukward  mouths ;  the*knight  took  mnff; 
Her  ladyship  hegan  to  huff ; 
"  Indeed,  sir  John— pray,  good  my  < 
Tis  wrong  to  make  yoar  kennel  here— 
I>ogi  in  their  ptace  are  good,  1  owi>— 
But  ia  the  parlooi^feh !— he  gone;*' 


l^ow  Rockwood  leaves  tii'  unfinish'd  bone, 
Banish'd  for  fellings  not  his  own ; 
No  grace  ev'n  Fidler  could  obtain. 
And  fevourite  Virgin  fawn'd  in  vam. 
Tbc  senants,  to  the  stranger  kind. 
Leave  trusty  Rover  still  liiund ; 
But  Lobb,  who  would  not  seem  to  be 
Defective  in  civility, 
And,  for  removing  of  all  doubt. 
Knitting  bishrows,  bid»  him  get  out: 
By  signs  expresses  his  command. 
And  to  the  door  points  with  his  hand.  , 
The  dog,  or  through  mistake  or  spight 
(Grave  authors  have  not  set  us  right). 
Fled  back  the  very  way  he  came. 
And  in  tlie  bush  soon  found  bis  game ; 
Brought  m  his  mouth  the  savoury  load. 
And  at  his  master's  elbow,stood. 
O  Lobb,  what  idioms  can  expsesS* 
Thy  strange  confusion  and  distress, 
\V\n:n  on  the  floor  the  drawers  display'd 
'ITie  fulsome  secret  had  bewray'd  ? 
No  traitor,  when  his  hand  and  seal 
Produc'd  his  dark  designs  reveal, 
F.'er  luok'd  with  such  a  hanging  fece. 
As  Ixtbb  half-dead  at  this  disgrace* 
Wild-staring,  thunder-struck,  and  dumb. 
While  peals  of  laughter  shake  the  room  ; 
Each  sash  thrown  up  to  let  in  air, 
The  knight  fell  backward  in  his  chair, 
Laugh'd  till  his  heart-strings  almost  bieakg 
The  chaplain  giggled  for  a  week  ; 
Her  ladyship  b^n  to  call. 
For  hartshorn,  and  h^  Abigail ; 
Tl>e  servants  chuckled  at  the  door. 
And  all  was  clamour  and  uproar. 
Rover,  who  now  began  to  quake. 
As  conscious  of  his  foul  mistake, 
Trusts  to  his  heels  to  save  his  life ; 
The  squire  sneaks  home,  and  beat8hiswi|| 


INSmsmVE  BRIDEGROOM: 


FiuvK  Plumb,  a  spark  about  the  town, 

Nc^r  weary  of  mtriguing  grown,^  . 

Thought  it  adviseable  to  wed. 

And  chuse  a  partner  of  his  bed. 

Virtuous  and  chaste — ^Aye,  right — but  where 

Is  there  a  nymph  that's  chaste  as  feir  ; 

A  blessing  to  be  priz'd,  but  rare. 

For  continence  penurious  Heaven 

With  a  too  sparing  hand  has  given; 

A  plant  but  seldom  to  be  found. 

And  thrives  but  ill  on  British  ground. 

Should  our  adventurer  haste  on  hoard. 

And  see  what  foreign  soils  afibrd  ? 

Where  watchful  dragons  guard  the  prizCa 

And  jealous  dons  have  Argus'  eyes. 

Where  the  rich  casket,  close  immur'd. 

Is  under  lock  and  key  secur'd  ? 

No — Frank,  by  long  experience  wise. 

Had  known  these  forts  took  by  surprise. 

Nature  in  spite  of  art  preyail'd. 

And  aU  their  vigilance  had  feil'd. 


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tss 


S0MERVILE9  POEMS. 


The  yoodi  was  pozzM— should  he  go 

And  scale  a  convent  ?  would  that  do  ? 

Is  nuns-flesh  always  good  and  sweet } 

Fly>blown  somethnes,  not  tit  to  eat 

Well-^e  resolves  to  do  bis  best. 

And  prudently  contrives  this  test ; 

If  the  last  favour  I  obtain, 

And  the  nymph  yield,  the  case  is  plaiu: 

ManryM,  sheMl  play  the  same  odd  prank 

With  others— she  's  na  wife  for  Frank. 

But,  could  I  find  a  female  heart 

Impregnable  to  force  or  art. 

That  all  my.  batteries  could  withstand. 

The  sap,  and  even  sword  in  hand  f 

Ye  gods !  how  happy  should  I  be, 

From  each  perplexing  thought  set  fn^ 

From  cuck^om,  and  jealousy ! 

The  project  pleased.  He  now  appears^ 

And  shines  in  all  his  killing  airs. 

And  ecery  useful  toy  preparea. 

New  opera  tunes,  and  billet-doux. 

The  clouded  cane,  and  red-heerd  shoes  ; 

l^or  the  clock-stocking  was  forgot, 

Th'  embroidcr*d  coat,  and  shoulder-knoi: 

All  that  a  woman's  heart  might  move. 

The  potent  trumpery  of  love. 

Here  importunity  prevails. 

There  tears  in  floods,  or  sighs  in  gales* 

Now,  in  the  lucky  moment  tryM, 

Low  at  his  feet  the  fair  one  dy'd, 

Bor  Strephon  would  not  be  deny*d« 

Then,  if  no  motives  c^ukl  persuade, 

A  golden  shower  debauch'd  the  maid. 

The  mistress  truckled,  and  obey'dL 

To  modesty  a  sl^am  pretence 

Gain'd  some,  others  impertineuoe ; 

But  most,  plain  dowarigfat  impudence* 

Like  Oesar,  now  he  conquered  all, 

The  vassal  sex  before  him  fall; 

Where*«r  he  march'd,  slaughter  ensued^ 

He  came,  he  saw,  and  he  subdued. 

At  length  a  stubborn  nymph  he  found. 

For  bold  Camilla  stood  her  ground ; 

Farry'd  his  thrusts  with  eqiud  art. 

And  had  him  both  in  tierce  and  quart : 

She  kept  the  hero  still  in  play, 

And  still  maintained  the  doubtful  day. 

Here  he  resolves  to  make  a  stand. 

Take  her,  and  marry  out  of  hand. 

The  jolly  priest  soon  ty'd  the  knot. 

The  luscious  t^le  was  not  ibrgot. 

Then  empty'd  both  his  pipe  and  pot 

The  posset  drunk,  the  stocking  throwi^ 

The  candles  out,  tlie  curtains  drawn, 

And  sir  and  madam  all  alone ; 

"  My  dear,"  said  he,  "  I  strove,  you  know,, 

To  taste  the  joys  you  now  bestow. 

All  my  persuasive  arts  I  try*d. 

But  still  relentless  you  deny'd ; 

Tell  me,  inexorable  fiiir, 

How  could  you,  thus  attacked,  forbear  ?*' 

**  Swear  to  forgive  what's  past,"  she  cry*d  ; 

"  The  naked  truth  shan't  be  deny'd." 

He  did ;  the  baggage  thus  reply'd : 

I)eceiv'd  so  many  times  before 

By  your  felse  sex,  1  rashly  swore, 

f%  truft  dec«itfui  man  no  mora. 


BACCHUS  TRIUMPBAim 


'*  Foa  shame,"  said  Ebony,  "  for  riiaiii^ 
Tom  Ruby,  troth,  you  're  much  to  blame, 
T6  drink  at  this  confounded  rate. 
To  guzzle  thus,  early  and  late !" 

Poor  Tom,  who  just  had  took  his  wlie^ 

And  at  the  door  his  uncle  met, 

Surprised  and  thimder-struck,  would  foiA 

Make  his  escape,  but,  oh  !  in  vain. 

Each  blush,  that  glow'd  with  an  ill  grace 

Lighted  the  flambeaux  in  his  face  ; 

No  loop-hoCe  left,  no  slight  pretence 

To  palliate  the  foul  o&nce. 

"  I  own,"  said  he,  **  I  'm  very  bad— 

A  sot^ncorrigibly  mad — 

But,  sir — I  thank  you  for  your  love. 

And  by  your  lectures  would  improves 

Yet,  give  me  leave  to  say,  the  street 

For  conference  is  not  so  meet 

Here  in  this  room — nay,  sir,  cdme  !»<«• 

Expose,  chastise  me  for  my  sm  ; 

Exert  each  trope,  your  utmost  art. 

To  touch  this  senseless,  flinty  bear^ 

I  'm  conscious  of  my  guilt,  'tis  tnie^ 

But  yet  1  know  my  frailty  too  ; 

A  slight  rebuke  will  never  da 

Urge  home  my  faults— come  in,  I  pray-f» 

Let  not  my  soul  be  cast  away." 
Wise  Ebony,  who  deeqi'd  it  good 

T*  encourage  by  all  meanshc  could 

These  first  appearances  of  grace, 

FoUow'd  up  stairs,  and  took  his  places 

The  bottle  and  the  crust  appear'd. 

And  wily  Tom  demurely  sneered 

"  My  duty,  sir !"— «« Thank  you,  kmd  Tom !" 

'*  Again,an't  please  you!"~'<  Thank  you!  GaoM^ 
"  Sorrow  is  dry— I  nnist  once  more — ^" 

<'  Nay  Tom,  I  told  you  at  the  door 

I  would  not  drink — what !  before  dinner  ?<-^ 

Not  one  glass  more,  as  1  'm  a  sinner- 
Come,  to  the  point  in  hand ;  is  t  fit 

A  man  of  3rovr  good  sense  and  wit 

Those  parts  which  Heaven  bestow'd  should  drowi^ 

A  butt  to  all  the  sots  in  town  ? 

Why  tell  me,  Tbm— What  fort  can  stand 

(Though  regular,  and  bravely  mannVl) 

If  night  and  day  the  fierce  foe  plies 

With  never-ceasing  batteries ; 

Will  there  not  be  a  breach  at  last  ?"— 

«*  Unde,  'tis  true^-forgive  what 's  past'*" 

"  But  if  nor  interest,  nor  fiune. 

Nor  health,  can  your  dull  sonl  redaim. 

Hast  not  a  conscience,  man  ?  no  tbougtt 

Of  an  hereafter  ?  dear  are  bought  » 

These  sensual  pleasures."—-**  I  relent. 

Kind  sir — but  give  your  zeal  a  vent—** 

'llien,  pouting,  bong  his  head ;  yet  still 

Took  care  his  uncle's  glass  to  fill. 

Which  as  his  burry'd  spirits  simk. 

Unwittingly,  good  man !  he  drunk« 

Each  pint,  alas !  drew  on  the  next. 

Old  Ebony  stuckto  his  text, 

6rown  warm,  like  any  angel  f , 

Till  intervening  hickups  bnke' 

The  well-strung  argument  Poor  Toas 

Was  uow  too  forward  tared  hone. 


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FABLES,  TALES,  &c. 


22fl 


l^ai  proftchmg  ft3t;  ihU  sUIl  repenting, 
Both  equally  to  drink  consenting, 
Till  both  bi^fuU  could  swill  no  more. 
And  fell  dead  drunk  upon  the  floor. 
Bacchus,  the  jolly  god,  who  sate 
Wide  straddling  o'er  bis  tun  in  state. 
Close  by  the  window  side,  from  whenc* 
He  beard  this  weighty  conference ; 
Joy  kindUog  in  his  niddy  cheeks. 
Thus  the  indulgent  godhead  ^>eaiks : 
"  Frail  mortab  know.  Reason  in  ^'aiQ 
Bebels,  and  would  dikurb  my  reign. 
See  there  the  sephister  e'erthrown. 
With  stronger  arguments  knockM  down 
Than  e'er  in  wrangling  schools  were  known  ! 
The  wine  that  sparkles  in  this  gla^ 
Soaootfas  every  brow,  gilds  every  face : 
As  vapours  when  the  Sun  appears. 
Far  hence  anxieties  and  fears :  ^ 

Grave  ermine  smiles,  lawn  sleeves  grow  ^y. 
Each  haughty  monarch  owns  my  sway, 
And  cardinals  and  popes  obey : 
Er'n  Cato  drank  his  glass,  'twas  I 
Taught  the  brave  patriot  how  to  die 
For  injtir'd  Rome  and  Liberty ; 
Twas  I  who  with  inmiortal  Uys 
Inspi^d  the  bard  that  sung  bis  praise. 
liBt  dull  unsociable  fools 
lioU  in  their  cells,  and  live  by  rules ; 
My  votaries,  in  gay  delight 
And  mirth,  shall  revel  all  the  night ; 
Act  well  their  parts  on  life's  dull  staQ:e, 
Aad  make  each  moment  worth  an  age." 


SIGHT 'WALKER  RECLAIMED: 


Ik  those  blest  da3rs  of  jubilee. 

When  pious  Charles  set  England  fret 

From  canting  and  hypocrisy ; 

Most  gradoosly  to  all  restoring 

Their  ancient  privil^e  of  whoring  ; 

There  liv'd,  but  'tis  no  matter  where. 

The  son  of  an  old  cavalier ; 

Of  ancient  lineage  was  the  squire, 

A  man  of  mettle  and  of  fire ; 

CIean-shap*d,  well-limbM,  bJack-ey'd,  and  tall. 

Made  a  good  figure  at  a  ball. 

And  only  wanted  wherewithal. 

His  pension  was  ill-paid  and  strait. 

Full  many  a  loyal  hero's  fate : 

Often  half  starv'd,  and  often  out 

At  elbows,  an  hard  case, no  doubt. 

Sometimes  perhaps  a  lucky  main 

Prudently  manag'd  in  Long-Lane 

Repaired  the  thread>bare  beau  again ; 

And  now  and  then  some  secret  favours. 

The  kind  returns  of  pious  labours, 

EorichM  the  strong  and  vigorous  lover. 

His  honour  liv'd  a  while  iu  clover. 

For  (to  «y  truth)  it  is  but  just, 

Where  all  things  are  decay'd  but  lust« 

That  ladies  of  maturer  ages 

Give  citron-water  and  good  wages. 

Thus  far  Tom  Wild  had  made  a  tbiftp 
And  got  good  helpi  at  a  dead  lift  ; 


But  John,  his  humble  meagre  slave. 

One  foot  already  in  the  grave, 

Hide-bouiid  as  one  of  Pharaoh's  kine, 

With  good  duke  Numps  was  forc'd  to  dine : 

Yet  still  the  thoughtful  serious  elf 

Would  not  be  wanting  to  himself; 

Bore  up  against  both  tide  and  wind, 

Tom'd  every  project  in  his  mind. 

And  each  expedient  weigh'd,  to  find 

A  remedy  in  this  distress. 

Some  god— (nay,  sir,  suppose  no  lew. 

For  in  this  hard  and  knotty  case, 

T  employ  a  god  is  no  disgrace  ; 

Though  Mercury  be  sent  from  Jove, 

Or  Iris  wing  it  from  above) 

Some  God,  I  say,  inspir'd  the  knave. 

His  master  and  hio)self  to  save. 

As  both  went  suppcriess  to  bed 
One  night  (first  scratching  of  his  head) 
"  Alas  !"  quoth  John,  "  sir,  tis  hard  fare 
To  suck  one's  thumb,  and  livp  on  aur^ 
To  reel  from  pillar  unto  post. 
An  empty  shade,  a  walking  ghost ; 
To  hear  one  *s  guts  make  piteous  moan^ 
Those  worst  of  duns,  and  yet  ntft  one. 
One  mouldy  scrap  to  satisjfy 
Their  craving  importunity. 
Nay — Good  your  honour  please  to  beai^ 
(And  then  the  varlct  dropt  a  tear) 
"  A  project  fonffd  In  this  dull  brain. 
Shall  set  us  all  adrift  again ; 
A  project,  sir,  nay,  let  me  tell  ye, 
Stmll  fill  your  pockets,  and  my  belly« 
Know  then,  old  Gripe  is  dead  of  lat^ 
Who  purchas'd  at  an  easy  rate. 
Your  manor-house  and  fine  estate. 
Nay,  stare  not  sir :  by  G —  *tis  true 
The  devil  for  once  has  got  his  due  : 
The  rascal  has  left  every  penny. 
To  his  old  maiden  sister  Jenny : 
Go,  clasp  the  dowdy  in  your  arms. 
Nor  want  you  bread,  though  she  want  channsi 
Cajole  the  dirty  drab,  and  then 
The  man  shall  have  bis  mare  again ; 
Clod-Hall  is  yours,  your  house,  your  rents. 
And  all  your  lands,  and  tenements." 

**Faith,  John,"  said  he,  (then  lick*d  his  diops) 
**  This  project  gives  indeed  some  hopes : 
But  cursed  hard  the  terms,  to  marry. 
To  stick  to  one  and  never  vary  5 
And  that  one  old  and  ugly  too : 
Frail  mortals,  tell  me  what  to  do  ?** 

**  For  that,'*  said  John,  **  trust  me  ;   my  treat 
Shan't  be  one  ill-dress'd  dish  of  meat ; 
Let  but  your  honour  be  my  guest. 
Variety  shall  crown  the  feast." 

«'  Tisdone,"  reply'dTom  Wrid,  "  tisdone, 
The  flag  hangs  out,  tiie  fort  is  won ; 
Ne'er  doubt  my  vigorous  attacks. 
Come  to  my  arms,  my  Sycorax  * ;  , 

Bold  in  thy  right  we  mount  our  throne. 
And  all  the  island  is  our  own." 

Well-^forth  they  rode,  both  squhre  and  Joha 
Here  might  a  florid  bard  make  knows. 
His  horse's  virtues,  and  his  own; 
A  thousand  prodigies  advance. 
Retailing  every  circumstance. 

1  See  Dryden's  Tempest,  altered  from  Sbakes* 
j[>eare. 


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SOMERVILE^S  POEMS. 


But  I,  #bo  am  not  over-nice, 
And  always  lovae  to  be  concise, 
Shall  let  the  courteoas  reader  guess 
The  squire's  accoutrements  and  dress. 

Suppose  we  ti.en  the  gentle  youth 
laid  at  her  feet,  all  love,  all  tnith ; 
Haranguing  it  in  verse  and  prose, 
A  mount  her  forehead  white  with  snows. 
Her  cheeks  the  lily  and  the  rose ; 
Her  myry  teeth,  her  coral  lips, 
Her  well-tum'd  cars,  whose  ruby  tips 
Af&rd  a  thousand  compliments,  > 

Which  he,  fond  youth,  profusely  vents : 
The  pretty  dimple  in  her  chin, 
The  den  of  Love,  who  lurks  within. 
But,  oh  !  the  lustre  of  her  eyes. 
Nor  stars,  nor  Moon,  nor  Sun  suffice. 
He  vows,  protests,  raves,  sinks,  and  dies. 
Much  of  her  breasts  he  spoke,  and  hair. 
In  terms  most  elegant  and  rare'; 
CalPd  her  the  goddess  he  ador'd. 
And  in  heroic  fustian  soared. 
^For,  though  the  youth  could  well  explain 
His  mind  in  a  more  humble  strain  ; 
Yet  Ovid  and  the  wits  agree. 
That  a  true  lover's  speech  should  be 
In  rapture 'and  in  simile. 
Imagine  now,  all  points  put  right, 
The  fiddles  tftid  the  wedding-nighty 
Each  noisy  steeple  rock'd  with  glee. 
And  every  bard  sung  merrily : 
Gay  pleasure  wanton!d  unconfin'd. 
The  men  all  drunk,  the  women  kind  : 
Clod -Hall  did  ne'er  so  fine  appear. 
Floating  in  posset  and  strong  beer. 

Come,  Muse,  thou  slattern  house -wife,  tell. 
Where  *s  our  friend  John !  I  hope  he  's  well  j 
Well  \  Ay,  as  any  man  can  be. 
With  Susan  m  the  gallery. 
Sue  was  a  lass  buxom  and  tight. 
The  chamber  maid  and  favourite ;  ' 

Juicy  and  young,  just  fit  for  man. 
Thus  the  sweet  dialogue  began. 

**  Lard,  sir,"  quoth  Sue,  "  how  bri>k,  how  gay. 
How  spruce  our  master  look'd  to-day  ! 
I'm  sure  no  king  was  e'er  so  fine, 
Ko  sun  more  gloriously  can  sliinc." 

**  Alas,  my  dear,  all  is  nut  gold 
That  glisters,  as  I  *ve  read  of  old. 
And  idl  the  wise  and  learned  say. 
The  best  is  not  without  allay." 

•*  Well,  master  John,  name  if  you  can  , 

A  more  accompiish'd  gentleman. 
Beside  (else  may  I  never  thrive) 
The  best  good-natured  squire  alive." 
(John  shrugged,  and  shook  his  head.)    "  Nay  sure 
You  1)y  your  loc^ng  so  demure 
Have  learnt  some  secret  fault ;  if  so. 
Tell  me,  good  John,  nay  pr'ythee  do. 
Tell  me,  I  say,  I  long  to  know. 
Safe  as  thy  gold  in  thy  strong  box. 
This  breast  the  dark  deposit  locks. 
Thesis  lips  no  secrets  shall  reveal" 

rr^'ell— let  me  first  affix  my  leal :" 
Then  kissM  the  soft  obliging  £wr. 
"  But  hold— now  I  must  hear  you  swear. 
By  all  your  virgin  charms,  below. 
No  mortal  e^ertbis  tale  shall  know." 

She  swore,  then  thus  the  cunning  knave,     . 
With  look  most  politic  and  grave. 


Proceeds :  "  Why— faith  and  troth,  dearfoe. 

This  jewel  has  a  flaw,  *tis  true ; 

My  master  *s  ,i?c'neroa><,  arid  all  that. 

Not  faulty  but  unfortuuaU ." 

"  Why  will  you  keep  one  in  suspence  ? 

Why  teaze  one  thus  ?'* — "  Have  patience* 

Tiie  youtli  has  failings,  there  's  no  doubt. 

And  who,  my  Suky,  is  without  ? 

But  should  you  tell — nay  that  I  dread" — 

"  By  Heaven,  and  by  my  maidenhead — 

Now  speak,  speak  quick." — "  He  who  denies 

Those  poutinj?  lips,  those  ro^'uish  eyes. 

Must  sure  be  more  than  man — tlien  know. 

My  dearest,  since  you  'II  have  it  so  ; 

My  master  Wild  not  only  talks 

Muf!h  in  his  sleep,  but  also  walks ; 

Walks  many  a  winter  night  alone, 

Tl#  way  and  tliat,  up  stairs  and  down : 

Now,  if  disturbed,  if  by  surprise 

He  *s  rous*d,  and  slumbers  quit  his  eyesj 

Lord,  how  I  tremble  !  how  1  dread 

To  speak  it !  Thrice  beneath  the  bed,, 

Alas !  to  save  my  life  I  fle<l : 

And  twice  behind  the  door  I  crept. 

And  once  out  of  the  window  leapt. 

No  ranging  bedlam  just  got  loose 

Is  half  so  mad  ;  about  the  house 

Frantic  he  runs ;  each  eye-lwill  glares. 

He  raves,  he  foams,  he  wildly  stares ; 

The  family  before  him  flies, 

Whoe'er  is  overtaken  dies. 

Opiates,  and  breath  ng  of  a  vein,. 

Scarce  settle  his  distemi>cr'd  brain. 

And  bring  him  to  himself  again. 

But,  if  not  cross'd,  if  let  alone 

To  take  his  frolic,  and  be  gone  ; 

Soon  he  returns  from  whence  he  came. 

No  lamb  more  innocent  and  tame.^" 

Thus  having  gain'd  her  point,  ta  bed 
In  haste  the  flickering  gipsy  fled ; 
The  pungent  secret  in  her  breast 
Gave  such  shag)  pang^,  she  could  not  rest : 
Prim'd,  charg'd,  and  cock'd,  her  next  desire 
Was  to  prei;ent,  and  to  give  fire. 
Sleeples.^  the  tortur'd  Susan  lay, 
Tossing  and'tumbJing  every  way. 
Impatient  tor  tbe  dawn  of  day. 
Stj  labours  in  the  sacred  shade. 
Full  of  the  god,  the  Delphic  maid : 
So  wind,  in  h\7X>condries  pent, 
Strucgles  and  heaves  to  find  a  vent ;, 
In  labyrinths  intricate  it  roars. 
Now  downward  sinks,  then  upward  soars ^ 
Th*  uneasy  patient  groans  in  vain. 
No  cordials  can  relieve  his  pain ; 
Till  at  the  postern  gate,  enlarg'd. 
The  bursting  thunder  is  discharg'd. 
At  last  Xh**.  happy  hour  was  come. 
When  calFd  into  her  lady's  room  j 
Scarce  tliree  pins  stuck  into  her  gown. 
But  out  it  bolts,  and  all  is  known. 
Nor  idle  kwig  the  secret  lie?, 
From  mouth  to  mouUi  improved  it  flies, 
Ancf  grows  amain  in  strength  and  size  i 
For  Fame,  at  first  of  pigmy  birth. 
Walks  cautiously  on  mother  Earth ;. 
But  soon  (as  ancient  bards  have  s;iid) 
In  clouds  the  giant  hides  her  head. 
To  council  now  the  gossips  went, 
^adam  herself  was  president ; 


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b?  affiur  is  bandied  pro  and  ron, 
BCtich  breath  is^  spent,  few  conquests  won« 
At  length  dame  Hobb,  to  end  the  strife. 
And  madam  Blouse  the  parson's  wife, 
In  this  with  one  consent  agree, 
Tbat,  since  th*  effect  was  lunacy 
If  waikM,  it  were  by  much  the  best, 
^ot  to  disturb  him  in  the  least : 
£▼^0  let  him  ramble  if  he  please  ; 
Troth,  'tis  a  comical  disease ; 
The  worst  is  to  himself :  when  cold 
And  shivering  he  returns,  then  fold 
The  Tairrant  in  your  arms :  be  'II  rest 
With  pleasure  on  your  glowing  breast 
Madam  approv'd  of  this  advice, 
fcsued  her  orders  in  a  trice ; 
"  That  none  henceforth  presume  to  stir, 
Or  thwart  th*  unhappy  wanderer." 

John,  when  his  master's  knock  he  beard, 
Soon  in  the  dressing-room  appear'd. 

Archly  he  look'd,  and  slily  leer'd. 

•*  What  game  ?"  says  Wild.     "  Oh  !  nerer  more. 
Pheasants  and  partridge  in  great  store  ^ 

1  wish  your  ammunition  last !" 
And  then  reveal'd  how  all  had  past 
Kext  thought  it  proper  to  explain 

Ha  plot,  toad  how  he  laid  liis  train  : 

*•  The  coast  is  clear,  sir,  go  in  peace, 

No  dragon  guards  the  golden  fleece." 
Here,  Muse,  let  sable  Night  advance, 

Describe  her  state  with  elegance ; 

Around  her  dark  pavilion  spread 

The  clouds  ;  with  poppies  crown  her  head  ; 

Note  well  her  owls,  and  bats  obscene ; 

Call  her  an  Ethiopian  queen; 

Or,  if  you  think  'twill  mend  my  tale. 

Call  her  a  widow  with  a  veil ; 

Of  spectres  and  hobgoblin^i  tell, 

Or  say  'twas  midnight,  tis  as  ^ell. 

Welt  then — "'twas  midnight,  as  was  said. 

When  Wild  starts  upright  in  his  bed. 

Leaps  out,  and»  without  more  ado. 

Takes  in  his  room  a  turn  or  two;    . 

Opening  the  door,  soon  out  he  stalks. 

And  to  the  next  apartment  walks ; 

Where  on  her  back  there  lay  poor  Sue, 

Alas  !  friend  John,  she  dreamt  of  you. 

Wak'd  wtih  the  noise,  her  master  known, 

By  moon-light  and  his  brotade  gown, 

Frighted  she  dares  not  scream,  in  bed 

She  sinks,  and  down  she  pops  her  head  ; 

The  curtains  gently  drawn,  he  springs 

Between  tlie  sheets,  then  closely  clings. 

Kow,  Muse,  relate  what  there  he  did ; 

Hold,  Impudence  ! — it  mubt  be  hid  !— 

He  dUd — as  any  man  would  do 

hi  such  a  case— Did  he  not.  Sue  ? 

Then  up  into  the  garret  flies. 

Where  Joan,  and  Dol,  and  Betty  lic^  ; 

A  leash  of  liisses  all  together. 

And  in  the  dog-days — in  hot  weather ; 

Why,  feith,  'twas  hard— he  did  his  best. 

And  left  to  Providence  the  rest. 

Cootent  the  passive  creatures  lie. 

For  who  in  duty  could  deny  ? 

Was  non-resistance  ever  thought 

By  modem  casuists  afeuk  ? 

Were  not  her  orders  strict  and  plam  ? 
Ail  itrajggliiig  dangerous  and  vain  ? 


Weil,  down  our  yonnker  trips  agam  ;    • 
Much  wishing,  as  he  reei'd  along. 
For  some  rich  cordial  warm  and  strong. 
In  bed  he  quickly  tumbled  then. 
Nor  wak'd  next  mom  till  after  ten. 
Thus  night  by  hight  he  led  his  life. 
Blessing  all  females  but  his  wife ; 
Much  work  upon  his  hands  there  lay. 
More  bills  were  drawn  than  he  could  payj 
No  lawyer  drudg'dso  hard  as  he. 
In  Easter  Term,  or  Hillary ; 
But  lawyers  labour  for  their  fee : 
Here  no  self-interest  or  gain. 
The  pleasure  balances  the  pain« 
Sq  the  great  sultan  walks  among 
His  troop  of  lasses  fiur  and  young : 
So  the  town-bull  in  Opentide, 
His  lowing  lovers  by  his  side. 
Revels  at  Urge  in  nature's  right, 
Curb'd  by  no  law,  but  appetite : 
Frisking  his  tail,  be  roves  at  pleasure, 
And  knows  no  stint,  and  keeps  no  measurt. 

But  now  the  ninth  revolving  Moon 
(Alas  !  it  came  an  age  too  soon; 
Curse  on  each  hasty  fleeting  nigpht  ?) 
Some  odd  discoveries  brought  to  light. 
Strange  tympanies  the  women  seize, 
An  epidemical  disease ; 
Madam  herself  with  these  might  pass 
Fur  a  clean-shap'd  and  taper  lass. 
*Twas  vain  to  hide  th'  apparent  load. 
For  hoops  were  not  then  a-ia-mode; 
Sue,  being  qncstion'd,  and  hard  press'd, 
Blubbermg  the  naked  truth  confessed : 
**  Were  not  your  orders  most  severe. 
That  none  should  stop  his  night-career  ? 
And  who  durst  wake  him  ?  Troth,  not  I ; 
I  was  not  then  prepar'd  to  die." 

<*  Well  Sue,  "  said  she,"  thou  shalt  have  grace, 
But  then  this  night  I  take  thy  place. 
Thou  mine,  my  night-cloaths  on  thy  head. 
Soon  shall  he  leave  thee  safe  in  bed : 
Lie  still,  and  stir  not  on.thy  hfe. 
But  do  the  penance  of  a  wife ; 
Much  pleasure  hast  thou  had ;  at  last 
lis. proper  for  thy  sins  to  fast" 

This  point  agrc^,  to  bed  she  went. 
And  Sue  crept  in,  but  ill-content ; 
Soon  as  th'  accustom'd  hour  was  come. 
The  younker  sally'd  from  his  room. 
To  Sue's  apartment  whipt  away. 
And  like  a  lion  seiz'd  his  prey ; 
She  clasp'd  him  in  her  longing  arms. 
Sharp-set,  she  feasted  on  his  charms. 
He  did  whatever  he  could ;  but  more 
Was  yet  to  do,  encore,  encore  / 
Fam  would  he  now  elope,  she  claspt 
Him  still,  no  burr  e'er  stuck  so  last 
At  length  the  mora  with  envious  light 
Discover'd  all :  in  what  sad  plight 
Poor  man,  be4ay !  abashed,  for  sham« 
He  could  not  speak,  not  ev'n  one  lame 
Excuse  was  left.    She,  with  a  grace 
That  gave  new  beauties  to  her  fitce. 
And  with  a  kind  obligmg  air, 
(Always  successful  in  the  fair) 
Thus  sooo  reliev'd  him  from  despair. 
*'  Ah  !  generous  youth,  pardon  a  ftiult. 
No  fooliiih  jealousy  has  taught ; 


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232 


SOMERyiLE*S  POEMS. 


'Tis  yonr  owq  crime,  open  as  day. 
To  your  conviction  paves  the  way. 
Ob  !  might  this  stratagem  regain 
Your  love  '  let  me  not  plead  in  vain  ; 
Something  to  gratitude  is  due. 
Have  I  not  given  all  to  von  ?'» 

Tom  star*d,  look*d  pale,  then  m  great  ha&te 
S1i;>pM  on  his  gown ;  yet  thus  at  last 
Spoke  faintly,  as  amaz'd  he  stood, 
"  1  will,  my  dear,  be  very  good." 


flAPPY  DISjiPPOlKTMENT: 


In  days  of  yore,  when  belles  and  beanx 

JLeft  masquerades  and  puppet>^ow8. 

Deserted  ombre  and  basset. 

At  Jonathan's  to  squeeze  and  sweat; 

"U'hen  sprightly  rakes,  forsook  champaign. 

The  play-house,  and  the  merry  main. 

Good  mother  tVybum  and  the  stews. 

To  smoke  with  brokers,  stink  with  Jews: 

In  fine,  when  all  the  world  run  mad 

(A  story  not  less  true  than  sad) ; 

Ked  Smart,  a  virtuous  youth,  well  known 

To  all  this  chaste  and  sober  town. 

Got  every  penny  he  could  rally, 

To  try  his  fortujie  in  Change- Alley : 

In  haste  to  loll  in  coach  and  sue, 

.Bought  bulls  and  bears,  play'd  twenty  tricks. 

Amongst  his  brotlier  lunatics. 

Transported  at  his  fint  success, 

A  thousand  whims  his  fancy  bless, 

"With  scenes  of  future  happiness. 

How  frail  are  all  our  joys  below  ! 

Mere  dazzling  meteors,  flash  and  show  ! 

Oh,  Fortune  '  false  deceitful  whore  ! 

Caught  in  thy  trap  with  thousands  more. 

He  found  his  rhino  sunk  and  gone. 

Himself  a  bankrupt,  and  undone. 

Ked  could  not  well  digest  this  change. 

Forced  in  the  world  at  large  to  range  ; 

With  Babel's  monarch  tum'd  to  grass. 

Would  it  not  break  an  heart  of  brass } 

Tis  vain  to  sob  and  hang  the lip| 

One  penny  left,  he  buys  a  slip. 

At  once  his  life  and  cares  to  loee^ 

Under  his  ear  he  fits  the  noose. 

An  hook  in  an  old  wall  he  spies. 

To  that  the  &tal  rope  he  ties : 

Like  Curtius  now,  at  one  bold  leap. 

He  plung'd  into  the  gaping  deep; 

Nor  did  he  doubt  in  Hell  to  find, 

Dealings  more  just,  and  friends  more  kmd. 

As  he  began  to  twist  and  sprawl. 

The  loosen  d  stones  break  from  the  wall^ 

Down  drops  the  rake  upon  the  spot. 

And  after  him  an  earthen  pot : 

Keeling  he  rose,  and  gaz'd  around. 

And  saw  the  crock  lie  on  the  ground ; 

Surpriz'd,  amaz'd,  at  this  odd  sight. 

Trembling,  he  broke  it  in  a  fright: 

When,  lo  !  at  once  '"^ame  pouring  fbrtl| 

Ingots,  and  pearls,  and  gems  of  worib. 


0*ei3oy*d  with  Fortune*s  kind  beqneit} 

He  took  the  birds,  but  left  the  nest ; 

And  then,  to  spy  what-might  ensue. 

Into  a  neighbouring;  wood  withdrew  j 

Nor  waited  long.     For  soon  he  sees 

A  tall  bl^ck  man  skulk  through  the  trees; 

He  knew  him  by  his  shuffling  pace. 

His  thread -bare  coat  and  hatchet  £au3e  9 

And  who  the  devil  should  it  be. 

But  sanctify'd  sir  Timothy  ! 

His  uncle  by  his  mother's  side, 

His  guardian,  and  his  faithful  guide. 

This  driveUng  knight,  with  pockets  full, 

And  proud  as  any  great  Mogul, 

For  his  wise  conduct  had  been  made 

Director  of  the  jobbing  trade: 

And  had  most  piously  drawn  in 

Poor  Ned  and  all  his  nearest  kin. 

The  greedy  fools  laiil  out  their  gold, 

And  bought  the  very  stock  he  sold ; 

Thus  the  kind  knave  convey'd  their  pelf. 

By  hocvspocus,  to  hiqiself ; 

And,  to  secure  the  spoils  he  got, 

Form'd  this  contrivance  of  the  pot. 

Here  every  night,  and  every  morn. 

Devout  as  any  monk  new  shorn,  . 

The  prostrate  hypocrite  implores 

Just  Heaven  to  bless  his  hidden  stores  ; 

But,  when  he  saw  dear  mammon  flown. 

The  plundered  hive,  the  honey  gone. 

No  jilted  bully,  no  bilk'd  hack. 

No  thief  when  beadles  flay  his  back. 

No  losing  rook,  no  carted  whore, 

No  sailor  when  the  billows  roar. 

With  such  a  grace  e'er  curs'd  and  swore, 

Then,  as  he  por'd  up(»  the  ground. 

And  turn'd  his  haggard  eyes  around. 

The  halter  at  his  feet  he  spy'd, 

"  And  is  this  all  that 's  left  ?"  he  cry'd ! 

**  Am  I  thus  paid  for  all  my  cares, 

My  lectures,  repetitions,  prayers  ? 

'Tis  well^ — there  's  something  sav'd  at  least. 

Welcome,  thou  faithful,  friendly  guetft; 

If  I  must  hang,  now  all  is  lost, 

'TIS  clieaper  at  another's  cost ; 

To  do  it  at  my  own  expense, 

Would  be  downright  extravagance.'* 

Thus  comforted,  without  a  tear, 

He  fix'd  the  noose  beneath  his  ear. 

To  the  next  bough  the  rope  he  ty'd. 

And  most  heroically  dy'd. 

Ned,  who  behind  a  spreading  tree, 

Beheld  this  tragi-comedy, 

With  hearty  curses  rung  his  knell. 

And  bid  him  thus  his  la!>t  farewell. 

"Was  it  not,  uncle,  very  kind, 

hi  me,  to  leave  the  rope  behind  ? 

A  legacy  so  well  bestow'd, 

For  all  the  gratitude  I  ow'd. 

Adieu,  sir  Tim ;  by  Heaven's  decro«. 

Soon  may  thy  brethren  follow  thee, 

In  the  same  glorious  manner  swing, 

Without  one  friend  to  cut  the  string  ; 

That  hence  rapacious  knaves  may  know. 

Justice  is  always  sure,  though  slow." 


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A  PADLOCK  FOR  THE  MOUTUi 


Jack  Dim vlb  w»  a  merry  blade, 

Young,  amorous,  witty,  and  well  -made ; 

'•  Discreet  ?"— Hold,  air— nay,  as  I  live 

My  friend,  you  're  too  inquMtive  .• 

Piscretiuii,  all  men  must  agree. 

Is  a  most  shinini^  quality, 

Which  like  leaf-gold  makes  a  great  show, 

^bid  thinly  spread  sets-off  a  beau. 

3«rt,  sir^  to  put  you  out  of  pahi. 

Our  youoker  had  not  half  a  grain, 

A  leaky  blab,  rash,  feitbless,  vain. 

The  victories  his  eyes  had  won,  x 

As  soon  as  e*er  obtained,  were  known : 

For  trophies  rear'd,  the  deed  proclaim. 

Spoils  hung  on  high  expose  the  dame^ 

4aaA  love  is  sacrificed  to  fame, 

Soch  insolence  the  sex  alarms. 

The  female  world  is  up  in  arms; 

Th'  outrageous  Bacchanals  combine,   ' 

And  brandlsh*d  tongues  in  concert  join* 

Unhappy  youth  !  where  wilt  thou  go 
T  escape  so  terrible  a  foe  ? 

Seek  shelter  on  the  Libyan  shore, 

Where  tigers  and  where  lions  roar  ? 

Sleep  oo  the  borders  of  the  Nile, 

And  trust  the  wily  crocodile  ? 

Tis  vain  to  shun  a  woman's  hate. 

Heavy  the  blow,  and  sure  as  fete. 

Phyllis  appeared  among  the  crow'd, 

Bot  not  80  talkative  ^nd  loud. 

With  sUence  and  with  care  supprest 

The  growing  vengeance  in  her  breast, 

Be«olv'd,  by  stratagem  and  art. 

To  make  the  saucy  villain  smart 

The  cunniqg  baggage  had  prepared 

Pbmatum,  of  the  finest  lard, 

With  strong  astringents  nux'd  the  mess, 

Alom,  and  vitriol,  2.  S, 

Aisenic,  and  bole.     But  I  want  time 

To  turn  all  Quincy  into  rhyme, 

Twould  make  my  diction  too  snblime. 

Her  grandaae  this  receipt  had  taught. 

Which  Bendo  firom  Grand  Cairo  brought. 

An  able  styptic  (as  *tis  ^aid) 

To  soder  a  crack*d  maidenhead. 

This  ointment  being  duly  made, 

The  jilt  upon  her  toilet  laid : 

The  sauntering  cully  soon  appears, 

As  usual,  vows,  protests,  and  swears; 

CirelesB  an  opera  tune  he  hums, 

"ondeis  her  patch-box,  breaks  her  combs. 

Ai  up  and  down  the  monkey  playM, 

j™  hand  upon  the  box  he  laid, 

TJe  &tal  box.    PleasM  with  her  wiles. 

The  treacherous  Pandora  smiles. 

"  What  »s  this  ?»  cries  Jack.  "  That  box  !"8ajd  she : 

"  Pomatum ;  what  else  should  it  be  ?" 

Bat  here  tis  fit  my  reader  knows 

2^  March,*  when  blustering  Boreas  blows^ 

«em  enemy  to  belles  and  beanx. 

His  lips  were  sore ;  rough,  pointed,  torn. 

The  coral  bristled  like  a  thorn. 

Pless'd  with  a  cure  so  d-propot, 

%iealoQS  of  to  fiur  a  for, 


The  heal'mg  ointment  thick  be  spread. 

And  every  gaping  cranny  fed. 

His  chops  begm  to  glow  and  shoot 

He  strove  to  speak,  but^  oh  1  was  mute. 

Mute  as  a  fisl^  all  he  could  strain. 

Were  some  horse  gutturals  fbrc*d  with  paiib 

He  stamps,  he  raves,  he  sobs,  he  sighs. 

The  tears  ran  trickling  from  his  eyes ; 

He  thought  but  could  not  speak  a  curs^ 

His  lips  were  drawn  into  a  purse. 

Madam  no  longer  could  contam. 

Triumphant  joy  bursts  out  amain ; 

She  laughs,  she  screams,  the  house  is  raisM, 

Through  all  the  street  th'  affiur  is  blazM : 

In  shoals  now  all  the  neighbours  come. 

Laugh  out,  and  press  into  the  room. 

Sir  Harry  Taudry  and  his  bride, 

Miss  Tulip  deckM  m  all  her  pride ; 

Wise  Madam  Froth,  and  widow  Babble,     . 

Coquettes  and  prudes,  a  mighty  rabble. 

So  great  a  concourse  ne*er  was  known 

At  SmithBeld,  when  a  monster  *s  shown  ; 

When  bears  dance  jiggs  with  comely  miei^ 

When  witty  Punch  adorns  the  teene. 

Or  frolic  Pug  plays  Hariequin. 

In  vain  he  strives  to  hide  his  head. 

In  vain  he  creeps  behind  the  bed. 

Ferreted  thence,  exposM  to  view. 

The  crowd  their  clamorous  shouts  renew : 

A  thousand  taunts,  a  thousand  jeers. 

Stark  dumb,  the  passive  creature  heanu 

No  peijur»d  villain  naiPd  on  high. 

And  pelted  in  the  pillory. 

His  fece  besmeared,  his  eyes,  his  chopt. 

With  rotten  eggs  and  tuniip-tops. 

Was  e'er  so  maulU     Phyllis,  at  last. 

To  pay  him  for  offences  past. 

With  sneering  malice  in  lier  fece. 

Thus  spcAce,  and  gave  the  coup  de  grace  i 

**  Lard  !  how  demure,  and  how  precise 

He  looks  !  silence  becomes  the  wise. 

Vile  tongue  !  its  master  to  betray. 

But  now  the  prisoner  must  obey, 

I've  lock'd  the  door,  and  keep  the  key. 

Learn  hence,  ^hat  angry  woman  can. 

When  wrong*d  by  that  false  traitor  man  ; 

Who  boasts  our  favours,  soon  or  late, 

The  treachercRis  blab  shall  feel  our  hate.^ 


THE 

fFlSE  BUILDER: 


Wise  Socrates  had  built  a  ferm, 
Little,  convenient,  snug,  and  warm. 

Secured  from  rain  and  wind : 
A  gallant  whisper'd  m  his  ear, 
**  Shall  the  great  Socrates  live  here. 

To  this  mean  cell  confin'd  ?" 
"  The  fiimitnre  »s  my  chiefest  care," 
Reply*d  the  sage ;  "  here  's  room  tosptre, 

"  Sweet  sh-,  for  1  and  you ; 
When  this  with  feithful  friends  is  filPd, 
An  ampler  palace  I  shall  build ; 

<*  Till  tben,  thii  cot  itouH  do.'^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


iH 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


THE  TltOE  VS% 

OF  THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


Tom  Carbful  had  a  son  and  keir. 

Exact  his  shape,  genteel  his.air, 

Adonis  was  not  half  so  fiiir. 

But  then,  alas !  his  daughter  Jan* 

Was  but  so-so,  a  little  plain. 

In  mam's  apartment,  as  one  day 

The  little  romp  and  hoyden  play. 

Their  faces  in  the  glass  they  Tiew'd^ 

Which  tlien  u|>on  her  toilet  stood; 

Where,  as  Narcissus  Tain,  the  boy 

B^eld  each  rising  charm  with  joy  ; 

With  partial  eyes  surveyed  himself^ 

But  for  his  sister,  poor  brown  elf, 

On  her  the  self-enaknuur'd  chit 

Was  very  lavish  of  his  wit. 

She  bore,  alas !  whatever  she  could. 

But  'twas  too  much  for^esh  and  blood  ^ 

What  female  ever  had  the  grace 

To  pardon  scandal  on  her  face  ? 

Disconsolate  away  she  flies, 

And  at  her  daddy's  feet  she  lies; 

Sighs,  sobs,  and  groans,  calls  to  her  aid. 

And  tears,  that  readily  obey'd ; 

Then  aggravates  the  vile  oftence^ 

Skerting  alt  her  eloquence : 

The  cause  th'  indulgent  father  heard. 

And  culprit  summouM  soon  appear*d  ; 

Some  tokens  of  remorse  he  show'dy 

And  prcmiisM  largely  to  ke  good. 

As  both  the  tender  father  pressed 

With  equal  ardaur  to  his  breast, 

And  smilmg  kiss'd,  "  Let  there  be  peace/* 

Said  he ;  "  let  broils  and  discord  cease : 

**  Each  day,  my  children,  thus  employ 

The  faithful  mirror';  you,  my  boy. 

Remember  that  no  vice  disgrace 

The. gift  of  Heaven,  that  beauteous  face  ; 

And  you,  my  girl,  take  special  care 

Your  want  c^  beauty  to  repair 

By  virtue,  which  alone  is  fair." 


MAHOMET  ALI  BEG  : 

Oa,  THE  FAITHFttL   MINISTER  OP  STATS. 

A  LONG  descent,  and  noble  Mood, 
Is  but  a  vain  fantastic  good. 
Unless  with  inbred  virtues  joined. 
An  honest,  brave,  and  generous  mind. 
All  that  our  ancestors  have  done. 
Nations  relieved,  and  battles  won ; 
The  trophies  of  each  bloody  field. 
Can  only  then  true  honour  3rield, 
When,  like  Argyll,  we  scorn  to  owe. 
And  pay  that  lustre  they  bestow; 
But,  if,  a  mean  degenerate  race, 
Slothfid  we  faint,  and  slack  our  pace. 
Lag  in  the  glorious  course  of  fame, 
Their  great  achievements  we  disclaim. 
Some  bold  plebeian  soon  shall  rise. 
Stretch  to  the  goal,  and  win  the  prize. 
For,  since  the  forming  hand  of  old. 
Cast  all  mankind  in  the  Mone  mold; 


Since  no  distJnguIshM  dan  is  Meat 

With  finer  porcelain  than  the  rest;  .J 

And  since  in  all  the  ruling  mind 

Is  of  the  same  celestial  kind ; 

Tis  education  shows  the  way  ; 

Each  latent  beauty  to  display ; 

Each  happy  genius  brings  to  light. 

Concealed  before  in  shades  of  night : 

So  diamonds  from  the  f^oomy  mine. 

Taught  by  the  workman's  band  to  shioe^ 

On  Cloe*s  ivory  bosom  biaze. 

Or  grace  the  crown  with  brilliant  rays. 

Merit  obecure  shall  raise  its  head. 

Though  dark  obstructing  clouds  o'erqpread^ 

Heroes,  as  yet  unsung,  shall  fight 

For  slaves  oppress^),  and  injurM  right; 

And  able  statesmen  prop  the  throne. 

To  Battle-Abbey-RoU  >  unknown. 

Sba  Abbas,  with  supreme  command^ 
In  Persia  reign'd,  and  bless'd  the  land  ^ 
A  mighty  prince,  valiant,  and  wis^ 
Expert,  with  sharp  discerning  eyes. 
To  find  true  virtue  in  disguise. 
Hunting  (it  seems)  was  his  delight. 
His  joy  by  day,  his  dream  by  night  2 
The  sport  of  all  the  brave  and  bold. 
From  Nihirod,  who,  in  days  of  old. 
Made  men  as  well  as  beasts  bis  prey. 
To  mightier  George,  who6c  milder  swa  j 
Glad  happy  crowds  with  pride  obey. 
In  quest  of  his  fierce  savage  foes. 
Before  the  Sun  the  monarch  rose. 
The  grbdy  lion  to  engage. 
By  baying  dogs  provok'd  to  rage  ; 
In  the  close  thicket  to  explore. 
And  push  fipom  thence  the  bristled  boar: 
Or  to  pursue  tlie  flying  deer,     . 
While  deep-mouth'd  liounds  the  valUes  cheer; 
And  Echo  from  repeating  hills 
His  heart  with  joy  redoubled  fills. 
'  Under  a  rock'3  projecting  shade, 
A  shepherd  boy  his  seat  bad  mad^ 
Happy  as  Croesus  on  his  throne. 
The  riches  of  the  worW  his  own* 
Content  on  nk)rtals  here  below, . 
Is  all  that  Heaven  can  bestow. 
His  crook  and  scrip  were  by  him  lai<^ 
Upon  his  oaten  pipe  he  play'd  ; 
His  flocks  securely  coochM  around. 
And  seem'd  to  listen  to  the  sound. 
Retunung  from  the  chase  one  day. 
The  king  by  chance  had  lost  his  way : 
Nor  guards,  nor  nobles,  now  attend ; 
But  one  young  lord,  his  bosom  friend. 
Now  tir*d  with  labour,  spent  with  heat. 
They  sought  this  pleasant  cool  retreat; 
The  boy  leaped  active  fipom  his  seat. 
And,  with  a  kind  obliging  grace, 
Oflfer'd  the  king  unknown  his  place. 
The  Persian  monarch,  who  so  late. 
Lord  of  the  world,  rul'd  all  in  state  ; 
On  cloth  of  gold  and  tissue  trod. 
Whole  nations  trembling  at  bis  nod ; 
With  diamonds  and  with  rubies  crown^d^ 
And  girt  with  fawning  ^aves  around  ; 

'  A  record  which  contained  the  names  of  the  cbitf 
men  that  came  over  with  the  Conqueror. 


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FABIib,  TALES,  &c. 


335 


MioM  him  now :  his  canopy 
Th'  impending  rock,  each  shrab,  aach  tree. 
That  grew  upon  Its  shaggy  brov. 
To  theif'  great  prince  ob^rvant  bow  $ 
Yield,  as  in  duty  bound,  their  aid. 
And  bless  htm  with  a  friendly  shade. 
On  the  bare  flint,  he  sits  alone, 
And,  oh  !  would  kings  this  truth  but  oaFi^ 
The  safer  and  the  nobler  thvone ! 
But  where  do  I  digress  ?  'tis  time 
To  check  this  arrogaqpe  of  rhyme. 
As  the  jodioious  monarch  view'd 
The  stripling's  air,  nor  bold  nor  rude, 
With  native  modesty  subdued ; 
The  Uush  that  glowed  hi  all  its  pride 
Then  trembled  on  his  cheeks  and  dy^d. 
He  grew  inquisitive  to  trace 
What  aoul  dwelt  m  that  lox^ely  case : 
To  every  question,  serious,  gay, 
The  youth  reply*d  without  delay ; 
Uts  answers  for  the  most  part  right. 
And  taking,  if  not  apposite : 
Uostudy'd,  unaffected  sense, 
Mix'd  with  his  native  diffidence. 
The  king  was  charmed  with  snob  a  prize. 
And  stood  with  wonder  ra  his  eyes ; 
Commits  his  treasure  to  the  care 
Of  the  young  lord  :  bids  him  not  spare 
For  cost,  or  pains,  t*  enrich  his  breast 
'       With  all  the  learning  of  the  East 

He  bow»d,  obeyed,  well-ck)ath*d,  well-fed. 
And  with  his  pMitron^s  children  bred  ; 
Still  •«rery  day  the  jrouth  improved, 
By  a31  admir*d,  by  all  belo\''d. 

Now  the  first  curling  down  began 
To  give  the  promise  of  a  man ; 
To  court  he  's  caird,  employed,  and  trained, 
lo  lower  posts,  yet  still  he  gained 
By  candour,  courtesy,  and  skill. 
The  sul^ects'^love,  the  king's  good-will. 
Employ'd  in  greater  matters  now. 
No  flatteries,  no  bribes,  could  bow 
,   His  stubborn  soul ;  truclo  his  trust, 
Rnn,  and  inexorably  j  ust. 
In  judgment  ripe,  he  soon  became 
A  Walpole,  or  a  Walsingham ; 
And,  wakeful  for  the  public  peace. 
No  dragon  ;aiards  the  goMen  fleece 
With  half  that  vigilance  and  care. 
His  busy  eyes  kenn'd  every  where, 
In  each  dark  scheme  knew  how  to  dive. 
Though  cunning  Dervises  contrive 
Their  plots,  disguised  with  shams  and  lies. 
And  cknk'd  with  real  peijurics. 
Now  high  in  rank  the  peer  is  placed. 
And  All  Be^  with  titles  grac'd ; 
^0  bonads  his  master's  bounties  know« 
His  swelling  cofiers  overflow, 
And  be  is  puzzled  to  bestow ; 
PerplexM  and  studious  to  contrive 
To  whom,  and  bow,  not  what  to  give  ; 
Hit  pious  frauds  conceal  the  name, 
And  skreen  the  modest  man  from  shame. 
^^  e'er  would  heavenly  traasures  raise, 
^ust  grant  the  boon,  escape  the  praise. 
B«t  his  immense  and  endless  gain 
No  private  charities  could  drain : 
^  public  works  he  fhc'd  his  mind, 
The  zealous  friend  of  human  kind. 


Convenient  inns  on  each  great  road, 
At  his  own  proper  costs  endowed. 
To  weary  caravans  a^rd 
Refineshment,  both  at  bed  and  board. 
From  Thames,  the  Tiber,  and  the  Rhine^ 
Nations  remote  with  Ali  dine  ;  ^ 

In  various  tongues  his  bounty  'shiest. 
While  with  surprise  the  stranger  guest 
Does  here  on  unbought  dainties  feast: 
See  stately  palaces  arise. 
And  gilded  domes  invade  the  skies.      ' 
Say,  Muse,  what  lords  inhabit  here? 
Nor  favourite  eunuch,  prince,  nor  peer  : 
The  poor,  the  lame,  the  blind,  thej^ick. 
The  ideot,  and  the  lunatic 
He  curb'd  each  river's  swelling  pride. 
O'er  the  reluctant  murmuring  tide 
From  bank  to  bank  his  bridges  stride. 
A  thousand  gracious  doeds  were  done, 
Bury'd  in  silence  and  unknown. 

At  length,  worn  out  with  years  and  can^ 
Sha  Abbas  dy'd  j  left  his  young  heir 
Sha  Sefi,  unexperienc'd,  raw. 
By  his  stem  father  kept  in  awe  ; 

To  the  seraglio's  walls  confin'd, 
Barr'd  from  the  converse  of  mankind* 

Strange  jealousy  !  a  certain  rule. 

To  breed  a  tyrant  and  a  fooL 

^tiU  All  was  prime  minister. 

But  had  not  much  his  master's  ear; 

Walk'd  on  unftiithful  slippery  ground. 

Till  an  occasion  could  be  found 

To  pick  a  quarrel ;  then,  no  doubt. 

As  is  the  mode  at  court — torn  out. 

Sha  Sefi,  among  eunuchs  bred. 

With  them  conversed,  by  them  was  led; 

Beardless,  half-men  !  in  whose  false  breasti^ 

Nor  Joy,  nor  love,  nor  friendship,  rests. 

Their  spite  and  ptnhig envydwell. 

And  rage  as  in  their  native  Hell ; 

For,  conscious  of  their  own  disgrace 

F^ch  execUence  they  would  ddjase. 

And  vent  their  spleen  on  hunum  race. 

This  Ali  found.    Strange  senseless  liea 

And  inconsistent  calumnies 

They  buz  into  \he  monarch's  ears. 

And  he  believes  all  that  he  hears* 

"  Great  prince,"  said  they,  "  Ali,  your  slaTe-* 

Whom  we  acknowledge  wise  and  brave-* 

Yet  pardon  us — we  can't  but  see 

His  boundless  pride  and  vanity: 

His  bridges  triumph  o'er  each  tide, 

In  their  own  channels  taught  to  glide 

Each  beggar,  and  each  lazy  drone. 

His  subjects  more  than  yours,  is  grown : 

And  for  a  palace  leaves  his  cell. 

Where  Xerxes  might  be  proud  to  dwell* 

His  inns  for  travellers  provide. 

Strangers  are  listed  on  his  side : 

In  his  own  house  how  grand  the  scene ! 

Tissues  and  velvets  are  too  mean, 

Cxold,  jewels,  pearls,  unheard  expense ! 

Suspected,  bold,  magnificence  ! 

MTience  can  this  flood  of  riches  flow ! 

Examine  his  aooonts  you  »ll  know : 

Your  eyfe  on  your  estchequer  cast. 
The  secret  will  come  out  at  last" 

Ali  next  mom  (fur  'twas  his  way 
To  rise  before  the  dawn  of  da)  ) 


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536 


SOMERVILE'S  POEMS. 


Went  ear]y  to  tb«  cmmeSi-^oudt 
Prostrate  on  earth,  his  kin;  adorM. 
The  king  witti  conntcoance  severe, 
liook'd  sternly  on  his  minister : 
«  All,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  told. 
Great  treasures,  both  in  gems  and  gok!^ 
Were  left,  and  trusted  to  your  care  ; 
'JItong  these,  one  gem  cxccedii^  rare, 
I  long  to  view;  which  was  (they  said) 
A  present  from  the  sultan  made, 
The  finest  that  the  world  e'er  saw. 
White,  large,  and  feir,  without  a  flaw.* 
Th»  unblemished  Ali  thus  rcply*d, 
•*  Qreat  sir !  it  cmraot  be  deny 'd, 
nis  brilliant,  beautiful  and  clear. 
The  g^reat  Mogul  has  not  its  peer. 
Please  it  your  isajesty,  to  go 
Ink)  the  treasury  below, 
You  Ml  wonder  at  its  piercing  ray. 
The  Sun  gives  not  a  nobler  day." 

Together  now  they  all  descend  ; 
Poor  Ali  had  no  other  friend. 
But  a  soul  faithful  to  its  trust. 
The  sure  asylum  of  the  just. 
In  proper  classes  now  are  seen 
The  diamonds  bright,  and  emeralds  green  ; 
Pearls,  rubies,  sapphires,  next  appear^ 
Disposed  in  rows  with  nicest  care. 
The  king  views  all  with  curious  eyes. 
Applauds  with  wonder  and  surprise, 
"riieir  order  and  peculiar  grace. 
Each  thing  adapted  to  its  place  ; 
The  rest  with  envious  leer  behold. 
And  stumble  upon  bars  of  gold. 
Kext  in  an  amber  box,  is  shown 
The  noblest  jewel  of  the  crown  : 
•*  This,  sir,"  said  he,  "  believe  your  slave. 
Is  the  fine  gem  the  sultan  gave ; 
Around  it  darts  its  beams  of  light. 
No  comet  e'er  was  half  so  bright." 
The  king  with  joy  the  gem  admires, 
Well-pleas*d,  and  half-convinc*d,  retires. 
«•  Ali,"  said  be,  "  with  you  I  dine  ; 
Your  furniture,  I  'mtold,  is  fine." 
Wise  Ali,  for  this  favour  show»d. 
Humbly  with  lowest  reverence  bow'd. 

At  AIi*s  house  now  every  hand 
Is  busy  at  their  lord's  command ; 
Where  at  th'  appointed  hour  resort 
The  king  and  ail  his  splendid  court. 
Ali  came  forth  his  prince  to  meet. 
And,  lowly  bowing,  kiss'd  his  feet. 
On  all  his  compliments  bestows. 
Civil  alike  to  friends  and  foes. 
The  king,  impatient  to  behold 
His  furniture  of  gems  and  gold. 
From  room  to  room  the  chase  pursued. 
With  curious  eyes  each  comer  view'd. 
Ransacked  th*  apartments  o'er  and  o*er. 
Each  closet  search'd,  unlocked  each  door; 
But  all  he  found  was  plain  and  coarse*  ^ 
The  meanest  Persian  scarce  had  worse  ; 
These  Ali  for  convenience  bought, 
Nor  for  expensive  trifles  sought. 
One  door  a  prying  eunuch  spy'd. 
With  bars  and  locks  well  fbrtify'd. 
And  now,  secure  to  find  the  prize, 
Show'd  it  the  king  with  joyful  eyes. 


«*  Ali,"  said  he,  *'  thateitMlel, 

Is  strong,  and  baricadoed  well. 

What  have  you  there  ?"  Ali  r^fd, 

**  Oh,  sir,  there  's  lodged  my  greateat  pfide|| 

There  are  the  gems  1  value  most. 

And  all  the  treasures  I  can  boast." 

All  now  convinced  of  his  disgrace. 
Triumph  appear'd  in  every  feoe. 
The  monarch  doubted  now  no  more; 
The  keys  are  brought,  unlocked  the  door. 
When,  lo !  upon  the  wall  i^pear 
His  shepherd's  weeds  hung  up  with  eare. 
Nor  crook  nor  scrip  was  wanting  there  ; 
Nor  pipe  that  tnn'd  his  humble  lays. 
Sweet  solace  of  his  better  days  ? 
Then,  bowing  low,  he  touched  his  breast. 
And  thus  the  wondering  king  addrest : 
**  Great  Prince  !  your  Ali  is  your  slave. 
To  you  belong  whatever  I  have^ 
Goods,  house,  are  yours,  nay  yoors  this  htmf^ 
For  speak  the  word,  and  I  am  dead  : 
These  moveables,  and  these  akxie, 
I  may  with  justice  call  my  own. 
Your  royal  sire.  Abbas  the  Great, 
'Whom  nations  prostrate  at  his  feet 
On  Earth  ador'd;  whose  soul  at  reat. 
In  Paradise  a  welcome  guest, 
Enjojrs  its  full,  and  fragraiA  bowers. 
Or  wantons  r.pon  beds  of  flowers. 
While  the  pure  stream,  in  living  riU% 
From  rocks  of  adamant  distils. 
And  black-ey'd  njrmphs  attend  his  nod. 
Fair  daughters  of  that  bl^  abode :  ^ 
By  his  command,  1  left  the  plain. 
An  humble,  but  contented  swain. 
Nor  sought  I  wealth,  nor  power,  nor  place  ; 
Ail  these  were  owing  to  Itis  grace ! 
Twas  his  mere  bounty  made  me  great. 
And  fix*d  me  here,  in  this  high  seat. 
The  mark  of  envy.     Much  he  gave. 
But  yet  of  nought  deprived  his  slave : 
He  touched  not  these.     Alas'  whose  ^lite. 
Whose  avarice,  would  these  excite } 
My  old,  hereditary  right ! 
Grant  me  but  these,  great  prince,  onoe  fDore^ 
Grant  me  the  pleasure  to  be  poor, 
TTiis  scrip,  these  homely  weeds,  I  *U  wear. 
The  bleating  flocks  shall  be  my  care; 
Th*  employ  that  did  my  yonth  engage. 
Shall  be  the  comfort  of  my  i^^e." 

The  king,  amaz'd  at  such  a  scorn 
Of  riches,  in  a  shepherd  bom  ; 
'*  How  soars  that  soul,"  said  he,"  above 
The  courtiers  hate,  or  monareh^s  love ! 
No  power  such  virtue  can  efface. 
No  jealous  malice  shall  disgrace. 
Wealth,  grandeur,  pomp,  are  a  mere  cheat. 
But  this  is  to  be  traly  great." 
While  tears  ran  trickling  down  hb  face. 
He  clasped  him  in  a  close  embrace  ; 
Tlien  caused  himself  to  be  undrest. 
And  cloath'd  him  in  his  royal  vest: 
The  greatest  honour  he  could  give. 
Or  Persian  subjects  can  receive. 


>  Such  is  the  Paradise  the  Torks  eiqpeot 


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TBE  smSETSCEirrED  MISER. 
jT BLL  me,  my  noble  geuerons  friend, 
yrttkk  what  design,  and  to  what  end. 

Do  -gmedy  fools  heap  up  with  care 

That  pelf,  which  they  want  heart  to  share  ? 

Wbai  other  pleasure  can  they  know, 

But  to  enjoy,  or  to  bertow  ? 

Acts  of  benevolence  and  love 

Gtre  tu  a  taste  of  tieaven  above  ; 

Wc  imitate  th*  immortal  powers, 

Whoac  san-«hine ,  and  whose  kindly  showert, 

Bcfinesh  the  poor  and  barren  ground,      ^ 

And  piknt  a  Paradi^  around : 

But  this  mean,  sneaking  avarice. 

Is  a  collection  of  all  vice. 

Where  this  fool  weed  bat  taints  the  place. 

Nor  virtue  grows,  nor  worth,  nor  grace ; 

The  80q1  a  desert  waste  remains. 

And  ghastly  desolation  reigns. 

But  where  will  these  grave  morals  tend  ? 

Pardon  my  zeal,  dear  courteous  friend  ; 

The  province  of  my  humbler  vein. 

Is  not  to  preach,  but  entertain. 

Gripe,  from  the  cradle  to  the  gravt. 

Was  good  for  nothing,  but  to  save; 

Mammon  his  god,  to  him  alone 

He  bow*d,  and  his  short  creed  was  known: 

On  his  tbnmb  nail  it  might  be  wrote, 

••  A  penny  sav'd  's  a  penny  goL" 

The  rich  poor  man  was  jogging  down. 

Once  on  a  time,  fiom  London  town; 
With  him  his  son,  a  handy  lad. 

To  dress  his  daddy— or  his  pad : 
AnofOng  his  dealers  he  bad  been, 
And  all  their  ready  cash  swept  clean. 
Gripe,  to  save  charges  on  the  road, 
At  each  good  house  cranunM  in  a  load ; 
With  boU'd  and  roast  his  belly  fiU'd, 
And  greedily  each  tankard  swilPd : 
Ham  savoury,  how  sweet  the  meat ! 
How  good  the  drink  when  others  treat  t 
Now  on  the  load  Gripe  trots  behind, 
Por  weighty  reasons  (as  you  '11  find)  : 
The  boy  soon  long'd  to  take  a  whet. 
His  hoiic  at  each  sign  made  a  set. 
And  he  spurred  on  with  great  regret 
Thb  the  old  man  observ'd  with  pain, 
**  Ah !  son,"  said  he,  **  the  way  to  gam 
Wealth  (our  chief  good)  is  to  absUin; 
Check  each  expensive  appetite. 
And  make  the  most  of  every  mite; 
Cbnsider  well,  my  child,  O  think 
What  numbers  are  undone  by  drink ! 
Hopeftil  young  men !  wbo  might  be  great. 
Die  well,  and  leave  a  large  estate; 
But,  by  lewd  comrades  led  astray, 
Guzzlii^,  throw  all  their  means  away. 
•IV)m  Dash,  of  parte  acute  and  rare. 
Can  split  a  fraction  to  a  hair; 
Knows  Wingate  better  than  his  creed. 
Can  draw  strong  ale,  or  a  weak  deed  ; 
By  precedente  a  hood  can  writ^ 
Or  an  indenture  tripartite ; 
Can  measure  land,  pasture,  or  woo^ 
Yet  never,  purchased  half  a  rood. 
Whom  all  these  liberal  arts  adorn. 


The  reason  need  not  fof  be  smight,  , 

For  three  pence  gain'd  he  spends  a  groat. 

There  's  Billy  Blouse,  that  merry  fellow. 

So  woadcous  witty  when  he  's  mellow; 

Ale  and  mundungus,  in  despite 

Of  nature,  make  the  down  polite. 

When  those  rich  streams  chafe  his  dull  hea^ 

What  flowers  shoot  op  in  that  hot-bed! 

His  jests,  when  fogs  his  temptes  sbrowd. 

Like  the  Sun  bursting  through  a  cloud : 

Blaze  out,  and  dazzle  all  the  crowd : 

They  laugh,  each  wag 's  exceeding  gay. 

While  he,  poor  ninny  !  jokes  away 

By  night,  whatever  be  gets  by  day. 

To  these  examples  I  might  add 

A  squire  or  two,  troth fiill  as  bad; 

Who,  doom'd  by  Heaven  for  their  sins. 

Mind  nothing  but  their  nipperkins : 

But  these,  at  this  time,  shall  suffice; 

Be  saving,  boy,  that  is,  be  wise." 

Now,  Muse,  come  hold  thy  nose,  and  tell 
What  dcleful  accident  befel;^ 
His  horse  set  hard,  an  ancient  hack,    — 
That  twice  ten  years  carry*d  a  pack. 
But  such  a  cargo  ne'er  before ; 
He  had  him  cheap,  and  kept  him  poor; 
His  bowels  stuft  with  too  mnch  meat. 
He  sat  uneasy  in  his  seat. 
And  riggled  often  to  and  fro. 
With  painful  gripings  gnaw'd  belov. 
His  distance  yet  in  hope  to  gaip. 
For  the  next  inn  he  spurs  amaii) ; 
In  baste  alights,  and  skuds  away. 
But  time  and  tide  for  no  man  stay. 
No  means  can  save  whom  Heaven  has  enia^^ 
For  out  th'  impetuous  torrent  burst 
Struck  dumb,  aghast  at  first  he  stood. 
And  scratched  his  head  in  pensive  mood: 
But,  wisely  judging  'twas  m  vain 
To  nuke  an  outcry,  and  complain^ 
Of  a  bad  bargain  mad^  theb^  . 
And  lull'd  his  troubled  soul  to  rest. 
Back  he  retum*d  with  rueful  face. 
And  shuffled  through  the  house  apaoe; 
My  landlady  screams  out  in  haste, 
"  Old  gentleman,  ho !  — ^where  so  frist  ? 
Be^re  you  go,  pray  pay  your  shot, 
This  young  man  here  has  drunk  a  pot  .** 

<*  A  pot  ;''-said  Gripe;  '<  oh,  the  young  lOftt* t 
Ah,  ruinous,  expensive  dog !" 
And,  muttering  curses  in  his  ear, 
Look*d  like  a  witch  with  hellish  leer; 
But,  finding  'twas  in  vain  to  fret, 
Pull'd  out  his  catskin,  paid  the  debt. 
This  point  adjusted,  on  they  fore. 
Ambrosial  sweete  perftime  the  air : 
The  younker,  by  the  fragrant  scent. 
Perceiving  now  how  matters  went, 
Laugh'd  inwardly,  could  scarce  conlaiq. 
And  kept  his  countenance  with  pain. 
At  last  he  cries, "  Now,  sir,  ant  pleaiey 
I  hope  you're  better  and  at  ease.'* 
Better ;  you  booby ! —  'tis  all  out" — 
**  What 's  out !"  said  he,  '*  You  drunken  lout! 
All  in  ipy  trowsers — well — no  matter — 
Not  great — th'  expense  oTsoap  and  water  ; 
This  charge — if  times  are  not  too  hani^ 
By  flOMAAgesMat  imiy  b«  repais^d: 


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But  oh  \  that  ^mn'<}  confofonded  pot ! 
Extm'agiuit,  audacious  sot ; 
This,  this  indeed,  my  soul  does  grieve. 
There  's  two-penee  lost  without  retrieve  V 


INCURIOUS  BENCHER. 

At  Jenny  Mann's,  where  heroes  meet. 
And  lay  their  laurels  at  her  feet; 
The  modem  PaUas,  at  whose  «hrine 
They  bow,  and  by  whose  aid  they  dine : 
Colonel  Brocade  among  the  rest   * 
Was  every  day  a  welcome  guest 
One  night  as  carelesriy  he  stood, 

Qiearing  his  reins  before  the  fire, 
(So  every  true-bom  Briton  should) 

Like  that,  he  chaf  d,  and  fum'd,  with  ire. 
**  Jenny,**  said  he,  "  'tis  very  hard. 
That  nb  man's  honour  can  be  spar^ ; 
If  I  but  sup  with  lady  dutchess, 
Or  play  a  game  ai  ombre,  such  is 
The  malice  of  the  world,  tis  said, 
Althouf^  hb  grace  lay  drunk  in  bed, 
Twas  I  that  caus'd  his  aching  head« 
If  madam  Doodle  would  be  witty, 
And  I  am  snmmon'd  to  the  city, 
'         To  play  at  blind-man's-buff,  or  so, 
What  won't  such  helUsh  malice  do  ? 
if  I  but  catch  her  in  a  comer. 
Hump — »tis,  *  Your  servant,  colooel  Horner  :• 
But  rot  the  sneeriiig  fops,  if  e'er 
I  prove  it,  it  shall  cost  them  dear; 
I  swear  by  this  dead-doing  blade. 
Dreadful  examples  shall  he  made: 
What-^-cant  they  drink  bohea  and  cream. 
But  (d — ^n  them)  1  must  be  their  theme  i 
Other  mans  business  let  alone. 
Why  should  not  coxcombs  mind  their  own  ?*> 

Ajid  thus  he  rav'd  with  all  his  might 
(How  insecure  from  Fortune's  spite 
Alas !  is  every  mortal  wight !) 
To  show  his  anticnt  spleen  to  Mars, 
Fierce  Vulcan  caught  him  by  the  a—. 
Stuck  to.  his  skirts,  insatiate  varlet ! 
And  fed  with  pleasure  on  the  scarlet 
Hard  by,  and  in  the  comer,  sate 
A  Bencher  grave,  with  look  sedate, 
Smoaking  his  pipe,  warm  as  a  to^ 
And  reading  over  last  week's  post; 
He  saw  the  foe  the  fori  invade. 
And  soon  smelt  out  the  breach  he  made : 
But  not  a  word — a  little  sly 
He  look'd,  'tis  true,  and  from  each  eye 
A  side-long  glance  Sometimes  he  sent. 
To  bring  him  news,  and  watch  th'  event 
At  length,  upon  that  tender  part 

Where 'Honour  lodges  (as  of  old 

Authentic  Hndibras  has  told) 
The  blustering  colonel  felt  a  smart, 
Sore  grievM  for  his  affronted  bum, 
Frisk'd,  skip'd,  and  bounc'd  about  the  room ; 
Then  turning  short,  *'  Zounds,  sir !  "  he  cries— 
**  Pox  on  him,  had  the  fool  no  eyes  ? 
What !  let  a  man  be  burnt  alive  !" 

"  I  am  not,  sir,  inquisitive" 
(Kcply'd  sir  Gravity)  "  to  know 
Whate'er  your  honour 's  pleased  to  do; 


If  you  will  bum  ^r  tail  to  tin^er^ 

Pray  what  have  I  to  do  to  hinder  ? 

Other  mens  business  let  alone. 

Why  should  not  cootcomba  mind  their  own  l^ 

Tlien,  knocking  out  his  pipe  with  care. 
Laid  down  his  penny  at  the  bar; 
And,  wrapping  round  his  frieze  surtont» 
Took  up  his  crab-tree,  and  walk'd  out 


THE 

BUSY  INDOLENTt 

A  TAIB. 

Jack  Carclbbs  was  a  man  of  parts,^ 

Well  skill'd  in  the  politer  arts, 

W^  judgment  read,  with  humour  writ : 

Among  his  friends  past  for  a  wit : 

But  lov'd  his  ease  more  than  his  meat. 

And  wonder'd  knaves  could  toil  and  cheats 

T*  expose  themselves  by  being  great 

At  no  levees  the  suppliant  bow'd. 

Nor  courted  for  ttieic  votes  the  crow  M : 

Nor  riches  nor  preCennent  sought,  » 

Did  what  he  pleas'd,  spoke  what  he  thought* 

Content  within  due  bounds  to  live. 

And  what  he  could  not  q>eiiA,  to  give : 

Would  whiff  hi*  pipe  o'er  nappy  ale. 

And  joke,  and  pun,  and  tell  his  tale; 

Reform  the  state,  lay  down  the  law. 

And  talk  of  lords  he  never  saw ; 

Fight  Marlborough's  battles  o'er  again. 

And  push  the  French  on  Blenheim's  plain  ; 

Discourse  of  Paris,  Naples,  Rome, 

Though  he  had  never  stirr'd  fhim  home : 

Tis  true  he  travell'd  with  great  care, 

The  tour  of  Europe — in  his  chair. 

Was  loth  to  part  without  his  load. 

Or  move  till  morning  peep'd  abroad. 

One  day  this  honest,  idle  rake. 
Nor  quite  asleep,  nor  well  awake. 
Was  lolling  in  hia  elbow-chair. 
And  building  castles  in  the  air. 
His  nipperkid  (the  port  was  good) 
Half  empty  at  his  elbow  stood. 
When  a  strange  noise  offends  his  ear. 
The  din  increas'd  as  it  came  near, 
And  in  his  yard  at  last  he  view'd 
Of  farmers  a  great  multitude ; 
Who  that  day,  walking  of  their  rounds, 
Had  disagreed  about  their  bounds; 
And  sure  the  difference  must  bo  wide. 
Where  each  does,  for  himself  decide. 
Volliet  of  oaths  in  vain  they  swear. 
Which  burst  like  guiltless  bombs  in  air ; 
And,  **Thou'rt  a  knave !"  and,  "  Thou'rtaa  oaf?" 
b  banded  round  with  trath  enough. 
At  length  they  mutually  agree. 
His  worship  should  be  referee. 
Which  courteous  Jack  consents  to  be  r 
Though  for  himself  he  would  not  bodge. 
Yet  for  his  friends  an  arrant  dmdge  ; 
A  conscience  of  this  point  he  mide. 
With  pleasure  readily  obey'd. 
And  shot  like4ightning  to  then-  aid. 
The  farmers,  summorrd  to  his  room, 
Boeing  with  a^ward  reverence  come. 
In  his  great  chair  his  worship  sate,^ 
A  grave  and  able  magistrate: 


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fSVence  prodaim^d,  each  clack  was  Uid, 
And  iip^wnt  tongues  with  pain  obeyed. 
In  a  shofft  speech,  he  first  computes 
The  vast  expense  of  law-disputes, 
4pd  everlasting  chancery-suits. 
Wkh  Eeal  and  warmth  he  rally'd  then 
PackM  juries,  sherifb,  tales-men ; 
And  recommended  in  the  cWse, 
Good-neighbtniriiood,  peace,  and  repose. 
Next  weight  with  care  each  man*8  pretence, 
PerusM  records,  heard  evidence, 
Observ'd,  reply'd,  hit  every  blot, 
Unravell'd  every  Gordian  knotj 
With  great  activity  and  parts, 
Infiarm'd  their  judgments,  won  their  hearts : 
And,  without  fees,  or  time  mispent. 
By  sti«igth  of  ale  and  argument, 
I)ispatch*d  them  home,  friends  and  content 

Trusty,  who  at  his  ellx)w  sate. 
And  with  surprise  heard  the  debate. 
Astonished,  could  not  but  admire 
His  strange  dexterity  and  fire ; 
His  wise  discernment  and  good  sense* 
His  quickness,  ease,  and  eloquence. 
**  Lord  !  sir,"  said  he,  "  I  canH  but  chide : 
What  useful  talents  do  you  hide ! 
In  half  an  hour  you  have  done  more 
I        Than  Puzzle  can  in  half  a  score, 
'        Witha]]  the  practice  of  the  courts. 
His  cases,  precedents,  reports." 

Jack  with  a  smile  rcply'd,  •*  Tis  troe. 
This  may  seem  odd,  my  friend,  to  you 
But  give  me  not  more  than  my  due. 
No  hungry  Judge  nods  o'er  the  laws. 
But  baicoM  to  decide  the  cause : 
Who  hands  the  oar,  and  drags  the  chain, 
WiU  struggle  to  be  free  again. 
So  lazy  men  and  indolent. 
With  cares  oppress^,  and  hnslness  ipent, 
Eiert  their  utmost  powers  and  skill. 
Work  hard:  for  what?  Why,  to  sit  still. 
They  toil,  they  sweat,  they  want  no  fee, 
¥or  ev'n  sloth  prompts  to  industry. 
Therefore,  my  friend,  I  freely  own 
All  this  address  I  now  have  shown. 
Is  mere  impatience,  and  no  more, 
To  kmnge  and  loiter  as  before  : 
life  is  a  span,  the  world  an  inn- 
Here^  sirrah,  t'other  nij^Mnrkin." 


TilE    TEOMAS    OF    KENT: 


A  TioMAif  bold  (suppose  of  Kent) 
liv*d  on  hts  own,  and  paid  no  rent; 
liluuii'd  his  own  patenal  land. 
Had  always  money  at  command. 
To  purchase  bargains,  or  to  lend, 
1**  improve  his  stock,  or  help  a  friend : 
At  Cressy  and  Poictiers  of  old; 
His  ancestors  wew  bow-men  bold ; 
Whose  good  yew4x>ws,  and  sinews  strong, 
Drew  arrows  of  a  cloth-yard  long  j 
^or  England^s  glory,  strew'd  the  plain 
With  barons,  coimts,  and  princes  slain* 
Bdov'd  by  all  the  neighbourhood, 
for  his  delight  was  doing  gogd  : 


At  every  mait  bis  word  a  law. 
Kept  aU  theshufiling  knaves  in  awe. 
How  just  b  Heaven,  and  how  true. 
To  give  to  such  desert  its  due ! 
'Us  in  authentic  legends  said, 
Two  twins  at  once  had  bless'd  his  bed  ; 
Frank  was  the  eldest,  but  the  other 
Was  honest  Numps,  his  younger  brother  ^ 
That,  with  a  face  effeminate. 
And  shape  too  fine  and  delicate. 
Took  after  his  fond  mother  Kate, 
A  franklin's  daughter.    Numps  was  rough. 
No  heart  of  oak  was  half  so  tough. 
And  true  as  steel,  to  cuff,  or  kick. 
Or  play  a  bout  at  double-stick. 
Who  but  friend  Numps?  \\liile  FhmVs  delight 
Was  more  (they  say)  to  dance,  than  fight; 
At  Whitsoo-ales  king  of  the  May, 
Among  the  maids,  brisk,  frolic,  gay. 
He  tript  it  on  each  holyday. 
Their  genius  different,  Frank  wouM  roam 
To  town;  but  Numps,  he  staid  at  home. 
The  youth  was  forward,  apt  to  learn, 
Coold  soon  an  honest  living  earn ; 
Good  company  would  always  keep. 
Was  known  to  Falstaff  in  East-cheap ; 
Threw  many  a  merry  main,  could  bully. 
And  pot  the  doctor  on  his  cully ; 
Ply*d  hard  his  work,  and  learnt  the  way. 
To  watch  all  night,  and  sleep  all  day. 
Flushed  with  success,  new  rigg'd,  and  clean. 
Polite  his  air,  genteel  his  mien : 
AccomplishM  thus  in  every  part. 
He  won  a  buxom  widow^s  heart. 
Her  fortune  narrow ;  and  too  wide, 
Alas !  lay  her  concerns,  her  pride : 
Great  as  a  dutchess,  she  would  scona 
Mean  fare,  a  gentlewoman  bom; 
Poor  and  expensive  on  my  life 
Twas  but  the  devil  of  a  wife. 
Yet  Frank,  with  what  he  won  by  night, 
A  while  liy'd  tolerably  tight ! 
And  spouse,  who  some  times  sate  till  mora 
At  cribbage,  made  a  good  return. 
While  thus  they  liv'd  from  hand  to  mouth. 
She  laid  a  bantling  to  the  youth  j 
But  whether  'twas  his  own  or  no. 
My  authors  don't  pretend  to  know. 
His  charge  enhanc'd,  tis  also  true 
A  lying-in  's  expensive  too, 
In  cradles,  whittles,  sploe-bowls,  sack, 
Whatever  the  wanton  gossips  lack; 
WTiile  scandal  thick  as  hail- shot  flies, 
Tdl  peaceful  bumpers  se^  their  eyes. 
Frank  deemed  it  prudent  to  retire, 
And  visit  the  good  man  his  sire ; 
In  the  stage-coach  he  seats  himself. 
Loaded  with  madam  and  her  elf; 
In  her  rig^t  hand  the  coral  plac'd. 
Her  lap  a  China  orange  grac'd : 
Pap  for  the  babe  was  not. forgot; 
And  lullaby's  melodious  note. 
That  warbled  in  his.  ears  all  day, 
Shocten'd  the  nigged,  tedious  way. 

Frank  to  the  mansion-honse  now  come, 
Rejoic'd  to  find  himself  at  home ; 
Neighbours  around,  and  cousins  went 
By  scores,  to  pay  their  compliment. 
The  pood  old  man  was  kind,  'tis  true, 
But  yet  a  little  shocked  to  view 


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940 


SOMERVILE'S  VOtm. 


Aaquiftt  to  fine,  ft  ngbt  ibneiC 

Bat  above  all,  the  lady  fidr 

Was  piok*d,  and  deck'd  beyond  compare; 

Scarce  a  shriere's  wife  at  an  assize 

Was  dress'd  so  fine,  so  roird  her  eyes : 

And  master  too  in  all  bis  pride. 

His  silver  rattle  by  his  side, 

Woald  shake  it  oft,  then  shrilly  screamt 

If  ore  noisy  than  tl»e  yeoman's  team ; 

With  tassels  and  with  plumes  made  proud. 

While  jingling  belk  ring  out  aloud. 

The  good  old  dame,  ravished  out-right, 

Evha  doated  on  so  gay  a  sight; 

Her  Frank,  as  gloriousastfae  mom; 

Pbor  Numps  was  look'd  upon  ifith  scent. 

With  other  eyes  the  yeoman  sage 
Beheld  each  youth;  nought  could  eqgag* 
His  wary  and  discerning  heart. 
But  sterling  worth  and  true  desert. 
At  last,  he  could  no  longer  bear 
Such  strange  sophisticated  ware ; 
He  cries  (enrag*d  at  this  odd  scene) 
"  What  can  this  foolish  cWomb  meaiiy 
Who,  like  a  pedlar  with  his  pack, 
Carries  his  riches  on  his  back  ? 
Soon  shall  this  blockhead  rink  my  rents. 
And  alienate  my  tenements. 
Which  long  have  stood  in  good  repair, 
Kor  sunk,  nor  rose,  finom  heir  to  heir  ; 
Still  the  same  rent  without  advance, 
Ifince  the  Black  Prince  first  conquered  France  : 
But  now,  alas  !  all  must  be  lost. 
And  all  my  prudent  prefects  crost. 
Brave  honest  race  t  Is  it  thus  then 
We  dwhidle  into  gentlemen  > 
But  I  Ml  prevent  this  foul  disgrace, 
This  butterfly  from  hence  1  *]1  chase." 

He  saddles  Ball  without  delay. 
To  London  town  directs  his  way  ; 
There  at  the  Herald's  Ofilce  he 
Took  out  his  coat  and  pay'd  his  fee. 
And  had  it  cheap,  as  wits  agree. 
A  lion  rampart,  stout  and  Me, 
Aigent  the  field,  the  border  sable  ; 
The  gay  escutcheon  lookM  as  fine. 
As  any  new  daub'd  country  sign. 
Thus  having  done  what  he  decreed. 
Home  he  returns  with  all  his  speed : 
*<  Here,  son,''  said  he,  "  since  you  will  ba 
A  gentleman  in  spite  of  me  ;  , 

Here,  mr,  this  gorgeous  bauble  taka, 
Haw  waU  it  wiU  bacom^  a  raka ! 


Be  what  you  seem :  this  is  your  stialV| 
But  honest  Numps  shall  be  my  heir  3 
To  him  I  '11  leave  my  whole  estate^ 
Leit  my  brave  race  degenerate* 


THE  HAPPY  LUNATIC i 

TO  DOCtOa   M  "b      A   TAUk 

Whew  saints  were  cheap  in  good  NCI's  leigi^ 

As  sinners  now'  in  Drury-Lane, 

Wrapt  up  in  mysteries  profbunid, 

A  saint  perceiv'd  his  head  turn  round  i 

Whether  the  sweet  and  savoury  wind. 

That  should  have  been  discharged  betuodp 

For  want  of  vent  had  upwards  fled, 

And  seii»d  the  fortress  of  his  head  j 

Ye  sage  philosophers,  debate : 

I  solve  no  problems  intricate. 

That  he  was  mad,  to  me  is  clear. 

Else  why  should  he,  whose  nicer  ear 

Could  never  bear  church-music  here^ 

Dream  that  he  heard  the  blest  above. 

Chanting  in  hymns  of  joy  and  love  ? 

Organs  themsel\-es,  which  were  of  yora 

The  music  of  the  scariet  whore. 

Are  now  with  transport  heard.     In  fine, 

Ravish'd  with  harmony  divine. 

All  earthly  blessings  he  defies. 

The  guest  and  favourite  of  the  skies. 

At  last,  his  too  ofllcious  firiends 

The  doctor  call,  and  he  attends; 

The  patient  cur'd,  demands  his  fee, 

"  Curse  on  thy  farting  pills  and  thcc,'» 

Reply'd  the  saint :  "  ah  !  to  my  cost 

"  1  m  cur'd;  but  where  's  the  Heaven  I  bit? 

Go,  vile  deceiver,  get  thee  hence. 

Who  'd  barter  Paradijie  for  sense  ?*» 

Ev'n  so  bemu^d  (that  is,  possest). 

With  raptures  fir'd,  and  more  than  Uestl 

In  pompous  epic,  towering  odes, 

I  strut  with  heroes,  feast  with  gods; 

Enjoy  by  turns  the  tuneful  quire. 

For  me  they  touch  each  golden  lyre. 

Happy  delusion  !  kmd  deceit ! 

Till  you,  my  friend,  reveal  the  cheat; 

Your  eye  severe,  traces. each  fault. 

Each  swelling  word,  each  tinsel  thought. 

Cur^d  of  my  frenzy,  I  despise 

Such  trifles,  stript  ctf"  their  disguise, 

Coovioc'd,  and  iniiipbly  wiat. 


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THE 


POEMS 


OF 


RICHARD  SAVAGE. 


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tiiii 
LIFE  OF  SAVAGED 

J»F  DR.  JOHNSON. 


IT  has  be^n  obseh^^d  in  all  agies,  Ihat  tbe  ad witages  of  natute  or  of  fortune  haTO 
contributed  very  little  to  the  promotion  of  happiness ;  and  that  those  whom  the  splen- 
door  of  their  rank,  or  the  extent  of  their  capacity^  have  placed  upon  the  summits  of 
faaman  life,  have  not  often  given  any  just  occasion  to  envy  in  those  who  lock  tip  to 
them  from  a  lower  station;  whether  it  be  that  apparent  superiority  incites. great 
designs,  and  great  designs  are  naturally  liable  to  fatal  miscarriages;  or  that  the  gene- 
ral lot  of  mankind  is  misery,  dnd  the  misfortunes  of  those,  whose  eminence  drew^  upon 
them  an  universal  attention,  have  been  more  carefully  recorded,  because  they-  were 
more  generally  observed,  and  have  in  reality  been  only  more  conspicuous  than  those  of 
others,  not  more  frequent,  or  more  severe. 

•  That  affluence  and  power,  advantages  e&tripsic  and  adventitiotts,  and  therefore 
easily  separable  from  those  by  whom  they  are  possessed,  should  very  often  flatter  the 
mind  with  expectatbns  of  felicity  which  they  cannot  give,  raises  no  astonishment ;  but 
it  seems  rational  to  hope,  that  intellectual  greatness  should  produce  better  efiect^;  that 
minds  qualified  for  great  attainments  should  first  endeavour  their  own  benefit;  and 
that  they,  ^ho  are  most  able  to  teach  others  the  way  to  happiness^  should  with  most 
certainty  follow  it  themselves. 

*  But  this  expectation,  however  plausible,  has  been  very  frequently  disappointed. 
Tbe  heroes  of  literary  as  well  as  civil  history  have  been  very'ofbn  no  less  remaikabte 
f^rwhat  they  have  suffered,  than  for  what  they  have  achieved;  and  volumes  have 
been  written  only  to  enumerate  the  miseries  of  the  learned,  and  relate  their  unhappy 
lives,  and  untimely  deaths. 

To  these  mournful  narratives  I  am  about  to  add  the  Life  of  Richard  Savage,  a  man 
whose  writings  entitle  him  to  an  eminent  rank  in  the  classes  of  learning,  and  whose 
^misfortunes  daim  a  degree  of  compassion,  not  always  due  to  the  unhiq[>py^  as  they  were 
often  the  consequences  of  tbe  crimes  of  others,  rather  than  his  own. 

In  the  year  1697,  Anne  countess  of  Macclesfield,  having  lived  some  time  upon  very 
mieasy  terms  with  her  husband,  thought  a  public  confession  of  adultery  the  moA  obn- 

>  The  first  e^tion  of  this  interesdng  namtive,  according  to  Mr.  Bofwell,  was  pablnbed  in  1744,  by 
Bbherts.    The  fecond,  now  before  me,  bears  date  1748,  and  was-pubiiabed  by  Cafe.    Very  km  wiibff^r 
.  $ow««renad6bytlieaatbor.iifaeabe*ddedjttatbeji«seiitoo^^       C» 


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S44  UFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

OU8  and  expeditious  method  of  obtainiDg  her  liberty;  and  therefore  dedaradt  ttat  Urn 
child,  with  which  she  was  then  great,  was  begotten  by  the  earl  Rireo.  Hus,  as  maj 
be  imagined,  made  her  husband  no  less  desirous  of  a  separation  than  herself,  and  he 
prosecuted  his  design  in  the  most  efiectual  manner;  for  he  applied  not  to  the  eccle- 
siastical courts  for  a  divorce,  but  to  the  parliament  for  an  act,  by  which  his  marriage 
m^ht  be  dissolved,  the  nuptial  contract  totally  annulled,  and  the  chQdren  of  his  wtEt 
illegitimated.  This  act,  after  the  usual  deliberatioD,  he  obtained,  though  without  the 
approbation  of  some,  who  considered  marriage  as  an  afiair  only  cognizable  by  eoden- 
astical  judges  *;  and  on  March  Sd  was  separated  from  his  wife,  whose  fortune,  which 
was  very  great,  was  repaid  her,  and  who  having,  as  well  as  her  husband,  the  fibeity  of 
making  another  choice,  was  in  a  short  time  married  to  colonel  Brett 

While  the  earl  of  Macclesfield  was  prosecuting  thb  aflair,  his  wife  was,  on  the  lOtii 
of  January,  1 697-8,  delivered  of  a  son:  and  the  earl  Rivers,  by  ajqpearing  to  consider 
him  as  his  own,  left  none  any  reason  to  doubt  of  the  sincerity  of  her  declaration;  for  he 
was  his  god&flier,  and  gave  him  hb  own  name,  i^ich  was  by  his  direction  inserted  at 
tiie  regjAer  ^St  Andrew's  parish  in  Holbom,  but  unfortunately  left  him  to  the  care  of 
Ids  mother,  whom,  as  she  was  now  Set  free  from  her  husband,  he  probably  imagined 
4fcely  to  tifeat  with  gieat  ftenderoess  the  child  that  had  contributed  to  so  pleasiQg  «n 
i0vent.  It  is  not  indeed' easy  to  discover  what  motives  could  be  found  to  over4Ndaiiee 
MnX  natnrad  afiection  of  a  parent,  or  what  interest  could  be  promoted  by  neglect  or 
cmdty.  miedreadof  shame  or  of  poverty,  by  which  some  wretches  have  been  iodtod 
io  abandon  or  to  murder  their  children,  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  aflfected  a  wobub 
^ho  tad  pff<tflaiwfid  her  dimes  and  solicited  reproach,  and  on  whom  the  demenqf  of 
the  legislature  had  undeservedly  bestowed  a  fortune,  which  would  have  been  very  littie 
-tHnMnished  l^  the  expensbs  whkh  the  care  of  her  child  could  have  brought  upon  ber» 
it  wasHierefole  not  likely  that  she  would  be  wicked  without  temptation;  thatshewoiM 
look  upon  her  SOB  from  his  birth  with  a  kind  of  resentment  and  abhorrence ;  aod^ 
tarlead  of  supporting,  assisting,  and  defending  him,  del^bt  to  see  him  straggling  witk 
(■very,  <nr  that  she  would  take  every  opportunity  of  aggravating  tus  misfortunes^  and 
^balriictiBg  his  resonrces,  and  with  an  implacable  and  restless  cruelty  coidinae  ber 
persecution  from  the  first  hour  of  his  life  to  the  last. 

But  whatever  were  her  motives,  no  sooner  was  ber  son  born,  than  she  discovered  a 
lesolatioB  of  tlisowning  Um ;  and  in  a  very  short  time  removed  him  frtnn  hersigfa^  bj 
'oommittiBgiiluiiothe'oaie  of  a  poorlroman,  whom  she  directed  to  educate  hnn  as  Jier 
i«WB,  and  djjvHoed  never  to  inform  him  of  his  true  parents. 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  the  life  of  Richard  Savage.  Bom  with  a  legal  daim  to 
innour^ndto  ^fflneiioe,  ht  was  in  two  months  flleghimated  by  the  parlkunent,  and 

<  TliM  year  wm  made  fWtwriiable  hgr  tbe  -dkiokitioo  of  a  marriage  foleauiiced  ia  the  fiK)e  ef  tha 
cborcb.    Salmon's  "Ritibw. 

Dme&ftieBt. 
Because  we  conceive  that  this  ig  the  first  bill  of  that  ribtore  Chat  bath  passed,  where  tiiere  was  not  « 
dlv<Hise*fiist obtained  ia  thespiritiMLl  dxat;  which  we  look  upon  as  an  ill  prooedent,  and  4iMgr-he  of 
I  coDsequsnoe  io'tbe  future. 


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UFB  OF  SAVAGE^  ft^ 

hy  bb  nMher,  doomed  to  poverty  aad  obscttriky,  and  lancbed  upon  the 
of  life,  only  that  he  m^t  be  swallowed  by  its  quicksands,  or  dashed  upon 
its  locks. 

His  mother  conU  not  mdeed  infect  others  with  the  same  cruelty.  As  it  was  niq>o»- 
■blt  to  avoid  the  inqoifies  which  the  curiosity  or  tenderness  of  her  relations  made  after 
hn  cbOdp  she  was  obliged  to  give  some  account  of  the  measures  she  had  taken;  and 
l|cr  mother,  the  lady  Mason,  whether  in  approbation  of  her  design,  or  to  prevent  more 
criminal  oontiivances,  engaged  to  transact  with  the  nurse,  to  pay  her  for  hei^  care,  and 
to  superintend  the  education  of  the  child*  I 

In  this  dmritable  office  she  was  assisted  by  hb  godmother  Mrs.  Lloyd.  who»  while  she 
lived,  always  looked  iqpon  him  wkh  that  tenderness  which  the  barbarity  of  his  mother 
aiade  peculiarly  necessary;  but  her  death,  which  happened  in  his  tenth  year,  was  another 
of  the  mfifortunesof  hb  childhood;  for  though  she  kindly  endeavoured  to  alleviate  his 
loss  by  a  l^acy  of  three  hundred  pounds,  yet  as  he  had  none  to  prosecute  hb  claim» 
to  shdter  him  from  oppression,  or  call  in  law  to  the  assistance  of  justice,  her  will  wa$ 
abided  by  the  executors,  and  no  part  of  the  mobey  was  ever  paid. 

He  was,  however,  not  yet  wholly  abandoned.  The  lady  Mason  still  continned 
her  care,  and  directed  him  to  bepkced  at  a  small  gramma^school  near  St  Alban's» 
where  he  was  called  by  the  name  of  hb  nurse,  without  the  least  intimation  that  he  had 
%  claim  to  any  other. 

Here  he  was  initiated  m  literature,  and  passed  through  several  of  the  classes,  with 
what  rapidity  or  with  what  applause  cannot  now  be  known.  As  he  always  ^ke  with 
sespect  of  hb  master,  it  b  probable  that  the  mean  rank,  in  which  he  then  appeared, 
dad  not  hinder  hb  genius  from  being  distinguished,  or  hb  industry  from  l>eing  rewarded : 
aad  if  in  so  low  a  state  he  obtamed  distinction  and  rewards,  it  b  not  likely  that  they 
were  gained  but  by  genius  and  industry. 

It  b  v^  reascnable  to  conjecture,  that  hb  q>plication  was  equal  to  hb  abilities^ 
because  hb  inqprovement  was  more  than  proporticHied  to  the  opportunities  which  he 
enjoyed;  nor  can  it  be  doubted,  that  if  hb  earliest  j^roductions  had  been  preserved^ 
1|1»  those  of  happier  students,  we  might  in  some  have  fobnd  v^orous  salliesof  that 
q[>rightly  humour  which  distinguishes  The  Author  to  be  Let,  and  in  others  strong  touches 
iKfdhat  ardent  imagination  which  pauted  the  solemn  scenes  of  The  Wanderer. 
.  While  be  was  thus  cultivating  hb  genhis,  hb  ftther  the  earl  Rivers  was  seized  with  a 
distemper,  which  m  a  short  time  put  an  end  to  hb  life  ^  He  had  frequently  mquired 
after  his  son,  and  had  always  been  amused  with  felladous  aud  evasive  answers;  but, 
being  now  in  hb  own  o|Nnion  on  hb  death-bed,  he  thought  it  hb  du^  to  provide  for 
him  among  hb  othor  natural  children,  and  therefore  demanded  a  positive  account  of 
him,  widi  an  importunity  not  to  be  diverted  or  denied.  Hb  mother,  who  could  no 
longer  refiise  an  aaawer,  determined  at  least  to  give  such  as  should  cut  him  off  for  ever 
from  that  happmesB  whkh  competence  aflfords,  and  therefore  declared  that  he  was 
dead;  which  b  perhsqM  the  first  instance  of  a  lye  inwnted  by  a  mother  to  deprive  iier 
mm  ofa  pravbioo  whidi  wns  designed  him  Iqr  Wlher,  and  wbich  sbe  ^uld  not  ex|^ 
hmcU;  IhoH^  he  sboiU  lose  it 

•  BediedAofr  l|t|^  1718.   ft 


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246  UFE  OF  savage: 

This  was  therefore  an  act  of  wk^edness  which  could  not  be  defeated,  because  if  cookl 
npt  be  suspected ;  the  earl  did  not  imagine  there  could  exist  b  a  human  foim  a  mother 
that  Would  ruin  her  son  without  enriching  herself,  and  therefore  bestowed  upon  some 
other  person  six  thousand  pounds,  which  he  had  in  his  will  l>equeathed  to  Savage. 

The  same  cruelty  which  incited  hb  mother  to  intercept  this  provision  whkh  had 
been  intended  him,  prompted  her  in  a  short  time  to  another  project,  a  prefect  worthy 
of  such  a  diqx>sition.  She  endeavoured  to  rid  herself  from  the  danger  of  l>ekig  at  any 
time  made  knowti  to  hhn,  by  sending^im*  secretly  to  the  American  Plantations  \       '  * 

By  whose  kindness  this  scheme  was  counteracted,  or  by  whose  interpositioD  she  waa 
induced  to  lay  aside  her  design,  I  know  not;  it  is  not  improbable,  that  the  lady  Mason 
might  persuade  or  compel  her  to  desist,  or  perhaps  she  could  not  easily  find  acooHi- 
plices  wicked  enough  to  concur  in  so  cruel  an  action ;  for  it  may  be  conceived,  tbafc 
those,  who  had  by  a  long  gradation  of  guilt  hardened  their  hearts  against  the  sense  of 
common  wickedness,  would  yet  be  shocked  at  the  design  of  a  mother  to  expose  her  ton 
to  slavery  and  want,  to  expose  him  without  interest,  and  without  provocation ;  and 
Savage  might  on  this,  occasion  find  protectors  and  advocates  among  those  who  had  Ibn^  > 
traded  in  crimes,  and  whom  compassion  had  never  touched  before. 

Being  hindered,  by  whatever  means,  from  banishing  him  into  another  country,  she . 
formed  soon  after  a  scheme  for  burying  him  in  poverty  and  obscurity  in  his  own ;  and 
that  hb  station  of  life,  if  not  the  place  of  hb  residence,  might  keep  him  for  ever  at  a 
distance  from  her,  she  ordered  him  to  be  placed  with  a  shoe- maker  in  Holbom^  that,  after 
the  usual  time  of  trial,  he  might  become  hb  apprentice  \ 

It  is  generally  reported,  that  thb  project  was  for  some  time  successful^  and  that  Sa->  > 
vage  was  employed  at  the  awl  longer  than  he  was  willing  to  confess;  nor  was  it  perhaps 
any  great  advantage  to  him,  that  an  unexpected  discovery  determmed  him  to  quit  his 

occupation. 

About  this  time  hb  nurse,  who  had  always  treated  him  as  her  own  son,  died ;  and  it 
was  natural  for  him  to  take  care  of  those  effects  whkh  by  her  death  were,  as  he  inia^ 
gined,  become' hb  own;  he  therefore  went  to  her  house,  opened  her  boxes,  aind 
examined  her  papers,  among  which  he  found  some  letters  written  to  her  by  the  Iwdj, 
Mason,  which  informed  hipi  of  hb  birth,  and  the  reasons  for  which  it  was  concealed. 

He  was  no  longer  satisfied  with  the  employment  which  had  been  allotted  him,  but 
thQUght  he  had  a  right  to  share  the  affluence  of  hb  mother;  and  therefore  withbnt 
scruple  applied  to  her  as  her  son,  and  made  use  of  eveiy  art  to  awaken  her  tenderaess^ 
and  attract  her  regard.  But  neither  hb  letters,  nor  the  interpositk>n  of  those  friends 
which  his  merit  or  hb  dbtress  procured  him,  made  any  impression  upon  her  lahidi 
She  stUl  resolved  to  neglect,  though  she  could  no  longer  disown  him.  t 

It  was  to  no  purppsie  that  he  frequently  solicited  her  to  admit  him  to  seeiier:  she 
avoided  him  with  the  most  vigilant  precaution,  and  ordered  him  to  be  excluded  horn 
her  house,  by  whomsoever  he  might  be  introduced,  an4  what  reason  soever  he  might 
give  for  enterii^  it  .       . 

Savage  was  at  the  same  time  so  touched  with  the  discovery  of  hb  real  mother,  that 
it  was  Us  frequent  practice  to  walk  in  the  dark  evenings  ^  for  several  hours  before  her 

«  Savase'sPrefiuetobisMiiceUnto.  ^  See  tbe  Pbin  Dealer, 


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UFE  Ot  SAVAGE.  247 

dooiviD  bopes  of  seeiiig  her  aa  she  might  come  by  acddent  to  the  wmdow>  or  crott 
htr  apartment  with  a  candle  in  her  hand.  ' 

Bi^  an  his  assiduity  and  tenderness  were  without  effect,  for  he  conid  neither  soften 
her  he^ct  nor  open  her  hand,  and  was  reduced  to  the  utmost  miseries  of  want,  while 
be  was  endei^vouring  to  awaken  the  affecti<m  of  a  mother.  He  was  therefore  obl^;ed 
to  seek  some  other  means  of  support;  and,  hxmg  no  profession,  became  by  necessity 
an  author.  « 

At  this  time  the  attention  of  all  the  literary  world  was  engrossed  by  the  Bangoria|i 
coptroversy,  which  filled  the  press  with  pamphlets,  and  the  coffee-houses  with  di^u- 
laQts.  Of  this'  subject,  as  most  popular,  he  made  choice  for  his  first  attempt,  anct* 
without  any  other  knowledge  of  the  question  than  he  had  casually  collected  fix^m  con^ 
v^rsation,  published  a  poem  agiunst  the  bishop  ^ 

What  was  the  9uccess  or  merit  of  this  performance,  I  know  not;  it  was  probably  lost 
among  the  innumerable  pamphlets  to  which  that  dilute  gave  occask>n.  Mr.  Savage 
was  himself  in  a  litlle  time  ashamed  of  it,  and  endeavoured  to  suppress  i^  by  destroy^ 
ing  all  the  copies  that  he  could  coDect* 

-  He  then  attempted  a  more  gainful  kind  of  writmg'',  and  in  his  dghteenth  year  offered, 
tathe  stage  a  comedy,  borrowed  from  a  Spanish  plot,  which  was  refused  by  the  phyer^ 
and  was  therefore  given  by  him  to  Mr.  Bullock,  who,  having more  interest  made  some 
dight  alteratjous,  and  brought  it  upon  the  stage,  under  the  title  of  Woman 's  a  Riddle  % 
but  allowed  the  unhappy  author  no  part  of  the  profit* 

Not  discouraged  however  at  his  repulse,  he  wrote  two  years  afterwards  Love  in  a 
Veil,  another  comedy,  borrowed  likewise  from  the  Spanish,  but  with  little  better  success 
than  before ;  for  though  it  was  received  and  acted,  yet  it  appeared  so  late  in  the  year^ 
that  the  author  obtained  no  other  advantage  fit>m  it,  tlum  the  acquaintance  of  sir 
Richard  Steele  and  Mr.  Wilks,  by  whom  he  was  pitied,  caressed,  and  relieved,  ^ 

Sir  Richard  Steele,  having  declared  in  his  favour  with  all  the  ardour  of  benevolence 
which  constituted  his  character,  promoted  bis  interest  with  the  utmost  zeal,  retoted  his 
mbfortunes,  applauded  his  merit,  took  all  the  opportunities  of  recommending  him,  and 
asserted,  that  "  the  inhumanity, of  his  mother  had  given  him  a  right  to  find  every  good 
man  hb  father  K" 

Nor  was  Mr.  Savage  admitted  to  his  acquaintance  only,  but  to  hb  confidence,  of 
which  he  sometimes  related  an  instance  too  extraordinary  to  be  omitted,  as  it  affords  a 
very  just  idea  of  his  patron's  character. 

He  was  once  desired  by  sir  Richard,  with  an  aur  of  the  utmost  inq|)ortance,  to  come 
very  early  to  his  house  the  next  morning.  Mr.  Savage  came  as  he  had  promised,  found 
the  chariot  at  the  door,  and  sir  Richard  waiting  for  hun,  and  ready  to  go  out.  What 
was  intended,  and  whither  they  were  to  go.  Savage  could  not  conjecture,  and  was  not 
willing  to  inquire ;  but  immediately  seated  himself  with  sir  Richard.  The  coachman 
was  ordered  to  drive,  and  they  hurried  with  the  utmost  expedition  to  Hyde-Park  Cof> 

tf  It  was  called  The  Battle  of  the  PiuDphlets.    R. 

'f  Jacob's  Lives  of  the  1>rainatic  Poets.    Dr.  J. 

•  This  pUy  was  printed  first  ID  8?o;  and  aftenrpmkfai  Iteo^  the  flfUieditkn,    Dr.  J« 

'Plain  Dealer,    Dr.  J.  . 


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)M  UFE  or  SAVAGS. 

ner,  wfaerethey  stopped  al  t  petty  tavern,  andrelired  Ip  a  pmile  room.  SrRadnri 
then  informed  him,  that  he  intended  to  publish  a  pamphlet,  and  thit  he  had  desired  fami 
%o  come  thither  that  he  m^ht  write  for  him.  Th^  toon  sat  down  to  the  work.  Sir 
Hichard  dictated,  and  Savage  wrote,  till  the  dinner  that  had  been  ordered  vras  pal 
upon  the  table.  Savage  was  svrpiised  at  the  meiinneflB  of  the  entertMnnMol,  and  after 
some  hesitation  ventured  to  ask  for  wkie,  which  m  Richard,  not  withoot  rdiielaDoe, 
ordered  to  be  brought  They  then  finished  theur  dinner,  i^nd  proceeded  in  their  paaqrih 
let,  which  they  condnded  hi  the  aftonooa* 

Mr.  Savage  then  imagined  his  task  was  over,  and  expected  thai  sur  Richard  vroaM 
call  for  the  reckoning,  and  return  home ;  but  his  eipectations  deceived  him,  for  sir 
Riehard  told  him  that  he  was  without  mopey,  and  that  the  pamphlet  must  be  sokl  he* 
fore  the  dinner  could  be  paid  for;  and  Savage  was  therefore  obliged  to  go  and  oAer 
4heir  new  productbn  for  Mde  for  two  guineas,  which  with  some  dMkulty  he  obtamed. 
Sr  lUchard  then  returned  home,  havmg  retired  that  day  only  to  avoid  hu  creditors, 
ud  composed  the  pamphlet  only  to  discharge  his  reckomng. 

Mr.  Savage  related  another  fact  equally  uncommon,  which,  though  it  has  bo  idatiao 
ko  his  life,  ought  to  be  preserved,  ^r  Richard  Steele  having  one  day,mviied  to  his 
house  a  great  number  of  persons  of  the -first  quality,  they  were  surprised  at  tiie  mmr 
l^r  of  livenee  which  surrounded  the  table;  and  after  dinner,  when  wine  and  nmihhad 
^  them  free  from  the  observation  of  ligkl  ceremony,  one  of  themhiquired  of  sir  Ridiard| 
how  such  an  expensive  train  of  domestks  could  be  consistent  vrith  his  fbituDe.  Sir 
iRiehard  very  frankly  confessed,  that  they  were  fellows  of  whom  hewouki  very  wSlingly 
^  lid.  AndlMmgthen  asked  why  he  did  not  dischaige  diem,  declared  that  they  were 
JMdlifls,  who  had  introduced' themselves  with  an  execution,  and  whom,  since  he  eoul4 
sot  send  them  away,  he  had  thought  it  convenient  to  embelhsh  with  hveiies^  that  they 
plight  do  faUB  credit  while  they  atakl. 

His  fKends  were  diverted  with  the  expedient,  and  by  paying  the  ddit  discbaigedl 
^leff  attendance,  havmg  obliged  sor  Rkhard  to  promise  that  they  shoi^d  never  again 
find  him  graced  with  a  retinue  of  the  same  kmd. 

Under  such  a  tutor  Mr.  Savage  was  not  likely  to  learn  prudence  or  frugality; 
and  perhaps  many  of  the  misfortunes  which  the  want  of  those  virtues  brou^t  upon 
bim  in  the  foilowing  parts  of  his  life,  might  be  justly  unputed  to  so  unimproving  an 
.-example. 

Nor  did  the  kindness  of  sir  Richard  end  in  common  favours.  He  pn^xised  to  have 
efltabli^d  hkn  in  some  settled  scheme  of  life,  and  to  have  contracted  a  kind  of  alliance 
with  him,  by  marrying  him  to  a  natural  daughter,  on  whom  he  intended  to  bestow  a 
thousand  pounds.  But,  though  he  was  always  lavish  of  future  bounties,  he  conducted 
Us  affiurs  \fk  such  a  manner,  that  he  was  veiy  seldom  able  to  keep  liispromises»  or  exe- 
cute his  own  intentkms ;  and,  as  he  was  never  able  to  raise  the  sum  whkh  he  had 
offered,  the  maniaga  was  delved.  In  the  mean  time  he  vras  officbusly  informed,  that 
Mr.  Savage  had  ridiculed  him;  by  which  he  was  so  much  exasperated,  that  he  with- 
drew the  sdlowance  which  he  had  paid  hun;  and  never  afterwards  admitted  bun  to 
bis  house. 

It  is  not  imleed  unlikely  that  Savage  might  by  his  imfHrudeoce  expose  hunself  to  the 
maliee  of  a  tal^bear^f  for  hb  patifon  luul  many  follies,  whicli,,  as  bia  disoenmien^ 


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UFE  OF  SAVAGE.  S49 


bt  somedniet  incite  him  to  mention  too  ladicroasly. 
A  little  knowledge  of  the  worid  is  sufficient  to  cHsoover  that  such  weakness  is  veiy  con- 
«B0D»  and  that  there  are  few  who  do  not  sometimes^  in  tlie  wantonness  of  thoughtless 
mstii,  or  the  heat  of  transient  resentment/ speak  of  their  friends  and  benefiictorB  with 
levitj  and  contempt,  though  in  dieir  coder  mooMnts  they  want  neither  sense  of  their  kind- 
neflB^  nor  reverence  for  their  virtue;  the  ftmlt  therefore  of  Mr.  Savage  was  rather  neg- 
figeao0  ttum  ingratjtode.  But  sir  Richard  must  likewise  be  acquitted  of  severity,  for 
who  IB  there  that  can  patiently  bear  contempt  from  one  whom  he  has  relieved  and  sup- 
potted,  whose  estaUishment  he  has  laboared,  and  whose  interest  he  has  promoted) 

He  was  now  again  abandoned  to  fortune  without  any  other  friend  than  Mr.  Wilks; 
a  man,  who,  whatever  were  his  abilities  or  skill  as  an  actor,  deserves  at  least  to  be 
lemenibered  for  his  virtues '^  which  are  not  often  tobefoundin  the  world,  and  perhaps 
lesa  often  in  his  profession  than  In  odiers*  To  be  humane,  generous,  and  candid,  is  a 
Ytrj  h^  degree  of  merit  in  any  case,  but  those  qualities  deserve  still  greater  praise, 
when  they  are  found  m  that  condition  which  makes  almost  every  other  man,  for  what* 
fver  reason,  contemptuous,  insolent,  petulant,  selfish,  and  brutal. 

As  BIr.  Wilks  was  one  of  those  to  whom  calamity  seldom  complained  without  rdief, 
be  naturally  took  an  unfortunate  wit  mto  his  protection,  and  not  only  assisted  him  in 
any  casual  distresses,  bi|t  continued  an  equal  and  steady  kindness  to  the  time  of  his  death* 

By  hb  interposition  Mr*  Savage  once  obtained  from  his  mother ''  fifty  pounds,  and  a 
promise  ot  one  hundred  and  fifty  more ;  but  it  was  the  fate  of  this  unhappy  man, 
thatfewpromisesof  any  advantage  to  him  were  performed.  .His  mother  was  infectedj^ 
funoiv  others,  with  the  general  madness  of  the  South  Sea  traffic ;  and,  havuig  been 
"disiqppoinled  in  her  expectations,  refused  to  pay  what  perhaps  nothmg  but  the  proq|>eG| 
of  sudden  affluence  prompted  her  to  promise. 

Bemgthus  obliged  to  depend  upon  the  friendship  of  Mr.  M^ilks,  he  was  conseqaently 
m  assiduous  frequenter  of  the  theatres ;  and  in  a  short  time  the  amusements  of  the , 
'sta^  tod^  sqch  possession  of  his  mind,  that  he  never  was  absent  from  a  pby  in  several 
years. 

^M  it  it  a  lot!  to  TmmlriiMl  wbea  say  good  actioii  it  forgotten,  I  thmll  insert  another  instance  of  Mr. 
Wilkt't  generotity,  Tery  little  known.  Mr.  Smith,  a  gentlemtn  educated  at  Dublin,  being  hindered  by 
an  hnpedimeDt  m  hit  pronunciation  froQi  engaging  m  orders,  fbr  which  his  friends  designed  him,  left  hit 
own  country,  and  came  to  Loodoo  in  qnett  of  employment,  but  found  his  solicitationt  frnitlesi,  and  hit 
neoewitict  every  di^y  more  prcstmg.  In  thit  dittrest  he  wrote  a  tragedy,  and  offered  it  to  the  players, 
by  wbofB  it  was  fejeoted.  Thus  were  bis  last  hopes  defeated,  and  he  had  nootber  protpeot  than  of  the 
IDOtt  deplorably  poverty.  But  Mr.  Wilks  thought  his  performance,  though  not  perfect,  at  least  worthy  of 
tome  reward,  and  therefore  offiired  him  a  benefit  This  favour  he  improved  with  so  much  diligence, 
that  the  bouse  afibrded  him  a  consideFable  sum,  with  which  he  went  to  Leydeu,  applied  himself  to  the 
itndy  of  pfasrsic,  and  prosecuted  his  design  with  so  much  diligence  and  success,  that,  when  Dr.  Boeriiaave 
-as  flnrirni  fry  thr  ^Vnrimi  tfr  rnnrmmfrrl  prtrirrr  prrmff  ttr  intTTHinT  Jntirfturrin  thft  pnntim  nnd  imdy 
of  physic,  Br*  Smith  wat  one  of  thote  whom  be  aBleoted.  Hehad  aoontideiaUepemionatttledQnbill 
4t  hit  arnval,  and  watoae  of  the  duefphyvciani  at  the  Russian  Qourt.    Dr.  J. 

A  letter  ftoBi  fk.  Smith  m  Rntna  to  Mr.  Wilkt  is  printed  in  Chetwood's  History  of  the  St«ga    IL 
.    ^  «<Thi^^«^yt  Dr.  Jbhoitn, '';  write  npoo  the  aredit  of  the  antfaor  of  his  life,  which  was  ^ 
in  1*787  ;**  and  wat  a  small  pamphtet,  intend^  to  plead  hit  cause  with  the  poblio  while  under  sentence 
pfdeafth'^fertbeMHidflirsfMr.Jso^SMair.atBfllyasoii'iGo^  Ttke6d. 

|U)bcrtB.»    a 


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«0  LIFE  OFJSAVAGR 

This  constant  attendance  naturally  priocured  him  th^  acqoaintaifo^  of  Ok  pbgpa^. 
and,  among  others,  of  Mrs.  Oldlield,  nvho  w^  so  much  {leased  with  his  coBventtioB, 
and  touched  with  his  misfortunes,  that  she  allowed  him  a  settled  pension  of  Stty  pomidf 
a  year,  which  was  durmg  her  life  regularly  paid. 

That  this  act  of  generosity  may  receive  its  due  praise,  and  that  the  good,  actions  of 
Mrs.Oldfield  may  not  besnllied  hy  her  general  character,  it  is  proper  to  mention,  what 
Mr.  Savage  often  declared,  in  the  strongest  terms»  that  he  never  saw  her  alooe,  or  ia 
any  other  place  than  behind  the  scenes. 

At  her  death  he  endeavoured  to  show  his  gratitude  in  the  most  decent  manner,  by 
wearing  mourning  as  for  a  mother ;  but  did  not  celebrate  her  in  elegies  >%  becanse  be 
knew  that  too  great  a  profusion  of  praise  would  only  have  revived  those  faults  wfaidi 
his  natural  equity  did  not  allow  him  to  think  less,  because  they  were  conunitted  by  ooe 
who  fovoured  him :  but  of  which,  though  his  virtue  would  not  endeavour  to  palliilt 
them,  his  gratitude  would  not  suffer  him  to  prolong  the  memory  or  diffbse  the 
censure. 

In  his  Wanderer  he  has  indeed  taken  an  opportunity  of  mentioning  her ;  but  celet- 
brates  her  not  for  her  virtue,  but  her  beauty,  an  excellence  which  none  ever  denied  her; 
this  is  the  only  encomium  with  which  he  has  rewarded  her  liberality,  and  perhaps  he 
has  even  m  this  been  too  lavish  of  his  praise.  He  seems  to  have  thou^t,  that  never  to 
mention  his  benefactress  would  have  an  appearance  of  mgratitude,  though  to  hafe 
dedicated  any  particular  performance  to  her  memory  would  only  have  betrayed  an 
officious  partiality,  that,  without  exalting  her  character^  would  have  depressed  bis 
own. 

He  had  somethnes,  by  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Wilks,  the  advantage  of  a  benefit,  oo 
which  occasions  he  often  received  uncommon  marks  of  regard  and  compasstcm;  an^ 
was  once  told  by  the  duke  of  Dorset,  that  it  was  just  to  consider  him  as  an  injured  no- 
bleman, and  tinit  m  his  opinion  the  nobility  ought  to  thmk  themselves  obliged,  without 
solicitation,  to  take  every  opportunity  of  supporting  bun  by  their  countenance  and  patro- 
nage. But  he  had  generally  the  mortification  to  hear  that  the  whole  interest  of  his  mo- 
ther was  employed  to  frustrate  his  applications,  and  that  she  never  left  any  expedient 
mitried,  by  which  he  might  be  cut  off  from  the  posability  of  supporting  Ufe.  The  same 
disposition  she  endeavoured  to  diffuse  among  all  those  over  whom  nature  or  fortune  gate 
her  any  influence,  and  indeed  succeeded  too  well  in  her  design :  but  could  not  always 
|»opagate  her  effirontery  with  her  cruelty ;  for,  some  of  those,  whom  she  incited  against 
hhn, '  were  asham^  of  their  own  conduct,  and  boasted  of  that  relief  which  they  ne^ 
gave  him. 

In  this  censure  I  do  not  mdiscrinunatety  involve  all  his  relations ;  for  he  has  mentioned 
with  gratitude  the  humanity  of  one  lady,  whose  name  I  am  now  unable  to  recollecttand 
to  whom  therefore  I  cannot  pay  the  praises  which  she  deserves  for  having  acted  weUia 
q>po6ition  to  influence,  precept,  and  exanqde. 

The  punishment  whith  our  laws  mflict  upon  those  parents  who  murder  tbeur  mfiurti 
is  well  known,  nor  has  its  justice  ever  been  contested;  but,  if  they  destove  death  wbo 
destroy  a  child  in  its  buth,  what  pains  can  be  severe  enough  for  heir  who  foibears  to 

t^OMtwood,  however,  has  prinked  a  poem  on  her  death,  which  he  ascribei  to  Blr.^vagt.  See  fdh 
|oryort]MSIace»p.906.    E. 


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LIFE  OF  SAVAGE.  251 

te9M9  faun  onfy  to  inflict  sharper  ikiidenes  upon  him;  wh6  prolongs  bis  life  only  to 
oatoe  him  miserable ;  and  who  exposes  him,  without  care  and  without  pity,  to  the 
naliee  of  oppression,  the  caprices  of  chance,  and  the  temptations  of  poverty :  who  le-. 
oices  to  see  him  ovenvhelmed  with  calamities;  and,  when  his  own  industry,  or  the  cha<, 
rity  of  others,  has  enabled  him  to  rise  for  a  short  time  above  his  miseries,  plunges  him 
igain]iDto  his  former  distress ! 

The  kindness  of  his  friends  not  affording  him  any  constant  supply,  and  the  prospect 
of  improving  his  fortune  by  enlarging  his  acquamtance  necessarily  leading  him  to  phices 
of  expense,  he  found  it  necessary  ^  to  endeavour  once  more  at  dramatic  poetry,  for  which 
be  Was  now  better  qualified  by  a  more  extensive  knowledge,  and  longer  observation. 
Bulk  having  been  unsuccessful  in  comedy,  though  rather  for  want  of  opportui^ties  than 
geniosy  he  resolved  now  to  try  whether  he  should  not  be  more  fortunate  in  exhibiting  a 
tragedy. 

The,  story  which  he  chose  for  the  subject,  was  that  of  sir  Thonms  Overbury,  a  story 
well  adapted  to  the  stage,  though  perhaps  not  far  enough  removed  from  the  present 
age  to  admit  properly  the  fictions  necessary  to  complete  the  plan;  for  the  mind,  which 
naturally  loves  truth,  is  always  most  offended  with  the  violations  of  those  truths  of  which, 
we  are  most  certain ;  and  we  of  course  conceive  those  fiicts  most  certain,  which  ap- 
proach'nearest  to  our  own  timfe. 

Out  of  thb  story  he  formed  a  tragedy,  which,  if  the  circumstances  m  which  he  wrote 
it  be  considered,  will  afford  at  once  an  uncommon  proof  of  strength  of  genius,  and 
evenness  of  mind,  of  a  serenity  not  to  be  ruffled,  and  au  imagmation  not  to  be  sup- 
pressed. 

During  a  considerable  part  of  the  time  in  which  he  was  employed  upon  this  perform- 
ance, be  was  without  lodging,  and  often  without  meat;  nor  had  he  any  other  conveni- 
ences  for  study  than  the  fields  or  the  streets  allowed  him;  there  he  used  to  walk  and 
form  his  speeches,  and  afterwards  step  into  a  shop,  beg  for  a  few  moments  the  use  of 
the  pen  and  ink,  and  write  down  what  he  had  composed  upon  paper  whkh  he  had 
picked  up  by  accident  ^ 

If  the  performance  of  a  writer  thus  distressed  is  not  perfect,  its  faulto  ought  surely 
to  be  imputed  to  a  cause  very  different  from  want  of  genius,  and  must  rather  excite  pity 
than  provoke  censure.  , 

But  when  under  these  discouragements  the  tragedy  was  finished,  there  yet  remained 
the  labour  of  introducing  it  on  the  ?tage,  an  undertaking,  which,  to  an  ingenuous 
mind,  was  in  a  very  high  degree  vexatious  and  disgusting;  for,  having  little  interest  or 
rqratation,  he  was  obliged  to  submit  himself  wholly  to  the  players,  and  admit,  with 
whatever  reluctance,  the  emendations  of  Mr.  Gibber,  which  he  always  considered  as 
the  disgrace  of  his  performance. 

He  had  indeed  mMr.  Hill  another  critic  of  a  very  different  dass,  firom  whose  friend* 
shq>  he  received  great  assistance  on  many  occasions,  and  whom  he  never  mentioned 
bi4  with  the  utmost  tenderness  and  regard*  He  had  been  for  some  time-  distinguished 
by  him  with  very  particular,  kindness,  and  on  this  occasion  it  was  natural  toapplytohim 
as  an  author  of  an  established,  character.  He  therefore  sent  this  tragedy  to  him,  with 
tAort  copy  of  verses  ^\  m  which  he  desbed  hb  correction.    Mr.  Hill,  whose  hnmamtj 

Plnnsi^  MpriatedinthelaiecoliectioaorhiipoaBi. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


S^2  ^     tXFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

mod  poKtaMSsaregenendlykiKywii^  readil^ana^iied  with  his  request;  but  at Ii6itJ<'« 
markable  for  singularkyof  sentuneDt,  and  bold  expeiimeiitB  in  language,  Mx*  S8va|^. 
dM  not  think  his  play  much  iiiq[>roYed  by  Ins  innovationy  tmd  had  even  at  that  time  me 
courage  to  n^ect  several  passages  which  he  could  not  approve ;  and,  what  is  still  more 
hodable,  Mr.  HiU  had  the  generosity  not  to  resent  the  neglect  of  his  alterations^  bot 
wrote  the  prologue  and  epilogue,  in  which  he  touches  on  the  drcumstanoes  <rftlie  author 
with  great  tenderness. 

Aft»  ail  these  obstructions  and  compliances,  he  was  only  able  to  bring  his  pby  iqx» 
the  stage  in  the  summer,  when  the  chief  actors  had  retired,  and  the  rest  were  in  poases* 
non  of  the  house  for  their  own  advantage.  Among  these,  Mr.  Savage  was  admitted  to 
ptay  the  part  of  sir  Thomas  Overbuiy  *^  by  which  he  gained  no  great  reputation,  the 
tiieatre  being  a  province  for  which  nature  seems  not  to  have  designed  hink ;  for  neither  his 
rwx,  look,  nor  gesture,  were  such  as  were  expected  on  the  stage ;  and  he  was  so  moch 
adiamed  of  having  been  reduced  to  appear  as  a  player,  that  he  alvyays  blotted  out  his 
Mme  fit>m  the  list,  when  a  copy  of  his  tragedy  was  to  be  shown  to  his  friends. 

In  the  publkation  of  his  performance  he  was  more  successful ;  for  the  rays  of  gonns 
Aat  glhnmered  in  it,  that  glimmered  through  all  the  mists  which  poverty  and  CObber 
had  been  able  to  spread  over  it,  procured  him  the  notice  and  esteem  of  many  persons 
eminent  for  their  rank,  their  virtue,  and  their  wit. 

Of  this  play,  acted,  printed,  and  dedicated,  the  accumulated  profits  arose  to  an  hun- 
dred pounds,  which  he  thought  at  that  time  a  very  large  sum^  having  been  never 
master  of  so  much  before. 

In  the  dedication  ^^  for  which  he  received  ten  guineas,  there  is  nothing  remaikaUe. 
The  prefiue  contains  a  very  liberal  encomium  on  the  blooming  excellencies  of  Bfr. 
llieophilus  Gibber,  which  Mr.  Savage  could  not  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  see  his 
friends  about  to  read  without  snatching  the  play  out  of  their  lumds.  The  generosity  of 
Hr.  Hill  did  not  end  on  thb^occasion ;  for  afterwards,  when  Mr.  Savage*!}  neoesaitiea 
retoned,  he  encouraged  a  subscription  toaMiscellany  of  Poems  in  a  very  extraordinary 
manner,  by  publishing  his  story  ia  The  Plain  Dealer,  vrith  some  affecting  lines,  wbidi 
1m  asserts  to  have  beoi  written  by  Mr.  Savage  upon  the  treatment  received  by  him  fimn 
lus  mother,  hvjt  of  which  he  was  himself  the  author,  as  Mr.  Savage  afterwards  de- 
dared.  These  lines,  and  the  paper  "  in  which  they  were  inserted,  had  a  very  power- 
fid  effect  upon  all  but  his  mother,  whom,  by  making  her  cruelty  more  publk^  they  only 
hardened  m  her  averskm. 

Mr.  Hill  not  only  promoted  the  subscription  to  the  Miscellany,  but  fiimished.likewiie 
(he  greatest  part  of  tiie  poems  of  whkh  it  is  composed,  and  partkufaufy  The  Hsffiy 
Man,  which  h'e  published  as  a  specimen. 

The  subscriptk>ns  of  those  whom  these  papers  should  influence  to  patroniae  aeril  in 
distress,  without  apy  other  soUdtatioo,  were  directed  to  be  left  at  Button's  ceflee^KNiae  • 

35  It  was  acted  only  three  nights,  the  flnlt  on  June  12,  1725.  When  the  house  opened  ftir  the  whUer 
season  H  was  onoe  mote  perfonned  for  the  sMthor^hcuefik,  Oct  Si    jR, 

MTQHerhertTk7Bt,EH|.erHeiBfofddure.    Dr.  J. 

s''11)9Flam  Dealer  w^  a  ferk)dk^  paper,  written  by  Mr.  HiU  «Q^  Bond,  whom  $iS98e<aiW 
the  tWDContendhig  powers  of  light  and  darimcn.  They  wrote  hy  turns  each  at.  essays;  and  the  ciMr 
rioter  of  the  workwiB  ohasradMiidttrlsp  taiiss  i«  Mr.  ttIN  we^,  and  &U  jn  Hxk  Bond'ft.    Dr%  J% 


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LIFE  OF  savage:  .-  258 

Jl^Ab.  Savage  going  thither  a  few  days  afterwards,  widumt  espectatioa  of  any  effect 
nun  his  pn^sal,  found  to  his  surprise  seventy  guineas  ^^  which  had  been  sent  him  in 
Nl^oaeqvciiee  of  the  compassion  excited  by  Mr.  Hill's  pathetic  representation. 

To  this  Miscellany  he  wrote  a  preface,  in  which  he  gives  an  account  of  his  mother^! 
auelty  in  a  very  uncommon  strain  of  humour,  and  with  a  gaiety  of  imagination,  whidi 
e  socoets  of  his  subscription  probably  produced. 

The  dedicatibn  is  addressed  to  the  lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu,  whom  he  flatten 
^vithonft  reserve,  and,  to  confess  the  truth,  with  very  little  art  ^K  The  same  observation 
maj  he  extended  to  all  hb  dedications :  hb  compliments  are  constrained  and  violent*^ 
hei^>ed  together  without  the  grace  of  order,  or  the  decency  of  introduction :  he  seems 
to  bare  written  hb  panegyrics  for  the  perusal  ooiy  of  his  patrons,  and  to  imagine  that  he 
had  ad  other  task  than  to  pamper  them  with  praises  h<mever  gross,  and  that  flattery 
would  jouke  its  way  to  the  heart,  without  the  assistance  of  elegance  or  invention. 

ScKm  afterwards  the  death  of  the  king  furnished  a  general  sijdjject  forapoetical  eon* 
les^  in  wUdi  Mr.  Savage  engaged,  and  is  allowed  to  have  carried  the  prize  of  honour 
fiom  his  competitors:  but  I  know  not  whether*lie  gained  by  hb  performance  any  other 
advantage  than  the  increase  of  hb  reputation:  though  it  must  oertamly  have  been  wkh 
farther  views  that  he  prevafled  upon  liimself  to  attempt  a  qiecies  of  writing,  of  which 
aUi  ttie  topics  had  been  long  before  exhausted,  and  wUdi  was  made  at  onoediflkidtbj 
die  mnltitodes  that  had  fiiQed  in  it,  and  those  that  had  succeeded. 

He  was  now  advancing  m  reputation,  and  though  fiequendy  mvolved  in  veiy  dbtress^ 
fid  perplexities,  appeared  however  to  be  gaining  upon  mankhid,  when  both  hb  fame 
and  bb  life  were  endangered  by  an  event,  of  which  it  b  not  yet  determined  whether  it 
ought  to  be  mentioned  as  a  crime  or  a  calamity. 

On  the  20di  of  November,  1727/Mr.  Savage  came  from  Ridmiond»  where  he  then 
kklged,  that  he  might  pursue  his  studies  with  less  interruption,  with  an  intent  to  dis- 
charge another  lodging  vdiich  he  had  in  Westminster;  and  accidentally  meeting  two  gen- 
tlemen  hb  acquaintances,  whose  names  were  JVferehant  and  Gregory,  he  went  in  witjl 
fliem  to  Ji  nei^bouring  coffee-house,  and  sat  drinking  till  it  was  late,it  beinginno  tine 
of  Mr.  Savage's  life  any  part  of  hb  character  to  be  the  flrstof  the  company  that  desired 
to  sqnirate.  He  would  willmgly  have  gone  to  b^  in  the  same  house;  but  there  was 
not  room  for  the  whole  company,  and  therefore  they  agreed  to  ramble  about  the 

nTteB«iieioftliotewfa0  80gtiiaroii8lyoontribiitedtohbf«M^  baling  been  mentloQedni  a  i<>niier 
aoewnt,  ooglit  not  to  be  omitted  here.  They  were  the  dotcbets  of  CSevelaul,  lady  Cheyney,  lady 
CMtleoMun,  lady  Gower,  lady  Lechmere,  the  dutcbe*  dowager  and  dutcbess  of  Rutland,  lady 
Stiaffiwd,  the  coonten  dowager  of  Warwick,  Mrs.  Mary  Flower,  Mn.  Sofud  Noel,  duke  of  Rotla^^ 
M  Gahiiborougfa,  lord  Milt ington,  Mr.  John  Savage.    Dr.  J. 

^  This  the  foUowing  extract  ironi  it  will  prare : 
— ^'Shice  oar  omntry  has  been  hononnd  with  the  glory  of  yoor  wit,  at  elefatod  and  imBNrtal  ^  y«K 
«Q«I,  it  DO  kmger  remaim  a  donbt  whether  your  sex  have  strenglh  ef  mind  in  piqportioa  to  their  ifiee^ 
^ot.  TheAls^imethbginyovTeiietSBdistingniAedasyQiirair.-^TbeyeraasitvoQgas  tntth,  tf 
<<tp  ae  ieaion,  aa  dear  as  inaoeenc^,  and  ai  imoothag  beauty.— They  ooatain  a  nameleit  andpecnliar 
■kixtiiie  of  fefoe  and  grace,  which  is  at  enoe  to  movingly  aerene,  and  go  miyestically  lovely,  that  it  Is 
too  anuable  to  appear  any  ;where  hot  in  your  eyes  and  in  yonr  writhigt. 

^*  As  fortune  is  not  more  my  enemy  than  I  am  tiie  enemy  of  battery,  f  hnmrnnthmr  T  nan  kihmi  ^^ 
%ikAtiim  to  your  Mysh^,  beeMsellMia  isaeasQS  a.p«nhil^ 
vbealamspeskfaigofyonrcxseQiaoa.'*    Dr. /• 


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ft64  UFE  of  SAVAGit 

itreets,  IdkI  divert  themselves  whh  sach  amusements  as  should  oflTer  themselves  tat 
Vkondhg, 

In  this  walk  they  hai^ned  unluckily  to  discover  a  light  in  Rohinson's  cofiee-fabose 
Hear  Charing-cross,  and  tiierefore  went  in.  Merchant,  with  some  rudeness,  demanded 
ii  room,  and  was  tdid  that  there  was  a  good  fire  in  the  next  parlour,  which  the  com- 
pany were  ahout  to  leave,  heing  then  paying  their  reckoning.  Merchaift,  not  si^isfied 
With  this  answer,  rushed  into  the  room,  and  was  followed  by  his  companions.  He 
then  petulantly  placed  'himself  between  the  company  and  the  fire,  and  soon  after 
kicked  down  the  table.  This  produced  a  quarrel,  swords  were  drawn  on  both  sides, 
and  one  If  r.  James  Smclair  was  killed.  Savage,  having  wounded  likewise  a  maid  that 
held  him,  forced  his  way  with  Merchant  out  of  the  house ;  but  being  intimidated  and 
confused,  without  resolution  either  to  fly  or  stay,  they  were  taken  in  a  back-comt  by 
,    one  of  the  company,  and  some  soldiers,  whom  he  had  called  to  his  assistance. 

Being  secured  and  guarded  that  night,  they  were  in  the  morning  carried  before  three 
justices,  who  committed  them  to  the  gatehouse,  from  whence,  upon  the  death  of  Mn 
Sinclair,  which  happened  the  same  day,  they  were  removed  in  the  night  to  Newgate, 
where  they  were  however  treated  with  some  distinction,  exempted  from  the  ignominy 
of  chains,  and  confined,  not  among  the  common  criminals,  but  in  the  pres^rard; 

When  the  day  of  tital  came,  the  court  was  crowded  in  a  very  unusual  manner;  and 
the  public  appeared  to  interest  itself  as  in  a  cause  of  general  concern.  The  witnesses 
against  Mr.  Savage  and  hb  friends  were,  the  woman  who  kept  the  house,  which  was 
a  house  of  ill  fame,  and  her  mmd,  the  men  who  were  in  the  room  with  Mr.  Sinclair, 
and  a  woman  of  the  town,  who  had  been  drinking  with  them,  and  with  whokii  one  of 
them  had  been  seen  in  bed.  They  swore  m  general,  that  Merchant  gave  the  provoca- 
tion, which  Savage  and  Gregory  drew  their  swords  to  justify :  that  Savage  drew  first, 
and  that  he  stabbed  Smdair  when  he  was  not  in  a  posture  of  defence,  or  while 
Gregory  commanded  his  sword ;  that  afrer  he  had  giveii  the  thrust  he  turned  pale,  and 
Vould  have  retired,  but  that  the  maid  clung  round  hhn,  and  one  of  the  company  en- 
deavoured to  detain  hun,  from  whom  he  broke,  by  cutting  the  maki  on^  the  hesid,  but 
was  afterwards  taken  m  a  court. 

There  was  some  difference  m  their  depositions ;  onedid  not  see  Savage'  give  the  wound, 
another  saw  it  given  when  Sinclair  hekl  his  point  towards  the  ground ;  and  the  woman 
of  the  town  asserted,  that  she  did  not  see  Sinclair's  sword  at  all :  this  difierence  how- 
ever was  very  far  from  amountiiig  to  inconsistency ;  but  it  was  sufiident  to  show,  that 
Ihe  hurry  of  the  dispute  was  such,  that  it  was  not  easy  to  discover  the  truth  with  rdatkm 
to  particular  circumstances,  and  that  therefore  some  deductions  were  to  be  itade  from 
Ihe  credibility  of  the  testimonies. 

Smclair  had  declared  several  times  before  his  death,  that  he  received  his  wound  from 
Savage :  nor  did  Savage  at  his  trial  deny  the  fact,  but  endeavoured  partly  to  extenuate 
it,  by  urging  the  suddenness  of  tha  whole  action,  and  the  impossibility  of  any  ill  design^ 
or  premeditated  malice ;  and  partiy  to  justify  it  by  the  necessity  of  self-defence,  and  the 
haiRud  of  his  own  life,  if  he  had  lost  that  opportunity  of  giving  the  thrust :  he  observe^ 
that  neither  reason  nor  law  obliged  a  man  to  wait  for  the  blow  which  ^as  threatened* 
and  which,  if  he  diould  sufier  it,  he  might  never  be  able  to  return ;  that  it  was  always 
allowable  to  prevent  an  assault,  and  to  (reserve  life  by  taking  away  that  c .  ibe  adver* 
sary  by  whom  it  was  endangered* 

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-  Widi;ii^rd  to  the  vicdeDce  with  which  he  endeavoared  to  escape,  he  dedaied,  that 
It  was  not  his  design  to  fly  from  justice,  or  decline  a  trial,  but  to  avoid  the  expencea 
and  severities  of  a  prison;  and  that  he  urtended  to  have  appeared  at  the  bar  without 
compolnon. 

•  Tliis  defence,  which  took  up  more  than  an  hour,  was  heard  by  the  multitude  thaf 
dnonged  the  court  with  the  most  attentive  and  respectfid  silence :  those  who  thought 
he  ought  not  to  be  acquitted,  owned  that  applause  could  not  be  refused  him;  and 
those  wha  before  pitied  his  misfortunes,  now  reverenced  his  abilities. 

'  The  vritnesses  which  appeared  against  him  were  proved  to  be  persons  of  diaracters 
which  did  not  entitle  them  to  much  credit ;  a  common  Mrnmpet,  a  woman  by  whom 
itoiiiBpets  were  etttertained,  and  a  man  by  whom  they  were  supported :  and  the  cha- 
ncier of  Savage  washy  several  persoKis  of  distinction  asserted  to  be  that  of  a  modest 
miofflensive  man,  not  inclined  to  broib  or  to  insdence,  and  who  had,  to  that  time,  been 
only  known  for  hismisfiHrtunes  and  his  wit 

Had  Us  audience  been  his  judges,  he  Jnd  undoubtedly  been  acquitted ;  but  Mr. 
Tilge,,  vdio  wa^  then  upon  the  bench>  treated  him  with  hb  usuid  insolence  and  severity* 
and  vrhen  he  had  summed  up  the  evidence,  endeavoured  to  exaq[>erate  the  jury ;  as 
Mr.  Savage  used  to  rehte  it,  with  thb  eloquent  harangue : 

«'  Gendemen  of  the  juiy,  you  are  to  consider  that  Mr.  Savage  is  a  very  great  man,  a 
imidrgfeater  man  than  you  or  I,  gentlemenof  the  jury;  that  he  wears  very  fine  ddthes, 
mneh  finer  dodies  than  you  or  I,  gentlemen  of  the  jury;  that  he  has  abundance  of 
money  HI  his  pocket,  much  more  money  than  you  or  I,  gentlemen  of  the  jury:  bol 
gentfcmen  of  the  jury,  is  it  not  a  very  hard  case,  gentlemen  of  the  juiy,  that  Mr. 
Savage  should  therefore  kill  you  or  me,  gentlemen  of  the  jury  V 
'  Mr.  Savage,  hearing  hisdefence  thus  misrepresented,  and  the  men  who  were  to  decide 
Us  fide  inotod  J^ainst  him  by  invidious  comparisons,  resolutely  asserted,  that  hift  cause 
was  not  caadUiy  explamed,  and  began  to  recqMtuhte  what  he  had  before  sakl  with 
regard  to  his  condition,  and  the  necessily  of  endeavouring  to  esci^  the  espences  of 
Imprisonment.;*  but  the  judge  having  ordered  him  to  be  silent,  and  repeated  his  orders 
wiUioot  effect,  commanded  that  he  should  betaken  from  the  bar  by  force. 

*  Tbejurytbenheard  the  opinion  of  the  judge,  thai  good  characters  were  of  no  weight 
^against  positive  evidence,  though  they  might  tuni  the  scale  where  it  was  donbtliil;  and 
thatthoegh,  when  two  men  attack  each  other,  the  death  of  either  is  only  manslaughter; 
Imt  where  one  b  theaggvessor,  as  in  the  case  before  them,  and^  m  pursumce  of  Us 
first  atta<^  kiUs  the  other,  the  law  supposes  the  action,  however  sudden,  tobemalkjous* 
They  then  ddiberated  upon  their  verdict  and  determined  that  Mr.  Savage  and  Mr* 
Oregory  ware  guilty  of  murder;  and  Mr.  Merchant  who  had  no  sword,  only  of  man- 
^riati^r. 

'  Thus  ended  thi)  memoftiMe  trial,  whkh  lasted  eight  hours.  Mr.  Savage  and  Mr. 
<3ffegorywere.coiiducted  back  to  (nbon,  where  they  were  more  closely  confined,  and 
loaded  witii  vons  of  fifty  pounds  weight;  fonr  days  afterwards  they  were  sentbad^  to 
tiweonrtloreodve  sentence;  on  which  occasion  Mr.  Savagemad^asfiurasitoouldbe 
^elaiBed*in  memory,  the  following  speech : 

t  ^  It  b  now,  my  lord,^  too  hte  to  oAr  any  tfamg  by  way  of  defimce  or  vindication ; 
nor  can  we  eip€ct  ftom  yoor  lordsbqpi^  in  thb  cour^  but  the  sentence  vrfaich  the  bw 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


t/^  UFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

teqgams  jw^  ZBjnig^  to  ptoDoiuice^gBi^ 
ue  abo  pennaded,  tlwt  as  mere  mem  aod  ostWthbseat  of  iigoroinjti8tioe»  joain 
suscepUve  of  the  teader  passioos,  and  too  humaoe  not  to  eommiaefate  tbe  vasimffj 
situation  of  those,  whom  the  law  sometimes  perhaps— exacts — ^firom  yon  to  proooiiBfla 
laipoB.  No  douht  you  distinguish  between  offieoces  whidi  arise  out  of  premodilatMib 
and  a  disposition  habituated  to  vice  or  immorality»  md  transgressions^  wUch  are  Ihi 
unhaf^and  unforseen  effects  of  casual  absence  of  reason,  and  sndden  impulse  of  pM* 
sion:  we  therefore  hope  you  will  contribute  ail  you  can  to  an  extensioo  of  that  nercj^ 
which  tbe  gentlemen  of  ^  jury  hare  been  pleased  to  sbow  Mr.  Merohaat,  wiio  (aUow- 
ing  &cts  as  sworn  against  us  by  the  evidence)  has  led  us  into  this  our  odaouty.  I  iMipt 
this  will  not  be  construed  as  if  we  meant  to  reflect  iqion  that  gtntknMUiy  or  i«B0V«  wmf  ' 
tiling  from  us  upon  him,  or  that  we  repine  the  more  at  oor  fiile,  becaose  he  haa  a# 
participation  of  it :  No,  my  lord!  For  myparti  dedareaoUungeoMldmoiesoAeaaiy 
grief,  than  to  be  without  any  compam'on  in  so  great  a  misfiNrtnne  ^/ 

Mr.  Savage  had  now  no  hopes  of  life,  bat  from  the  mercy  of  the  eiowiH  which  was 
yery  eame^y  solicited  by  his  friends,  and  which*  with  whatever  diliadty  the  slaffy»af 
obtain  belief,  was  obstructed  only  by  his  mothesw 

To  pr^udice  the  queen  against  him,  she  made  use  of  an  iQcident»  which  waa  OMUf 
ted  m  the  order  of  time,  that  it  might  be  mentioned  together  vridi  the  pvoBpaaewUeli  it 
wasmade  to  serve.  Mr.  Savage,  when  he  had  discovered  his  biith,  had  an  i 
desire  to ^peak to hismi^er,  who  always  avoided  bun  mpublic,  andicfnsedhinii 
aion  into  her  house.  One  evening  waUunf^  as  itvrytf  his  custom,  in  the  stitetdiataheiB^ 
heinted,  hesaw  the  door  of  her  house  by  accident  open;  heenteredit,  i 
person  in  the  passage  to  hinder  him,  went  np  stairs  to  salute  her*  She  < 
beibie  he  could  enter  her  chamber,  akirmed  the  femily  with  die  most  distretsftJ  wnt- 
crica,  and,  when  she  had  by  her  screams  gathered  them  about  her,  eadeittd  thesn  to 
drive  6nftof  the  honae  that  villain,  who  had  forced  himself  in  iqiOn  her,  and  endeaiviOQBBd 
to  musder  her.  Savage,  who  had  attempted  with  the  most  submissive  tcpdenaaa  fto 
saAen  her  rage,  hearing  her  utter  so  detestable  an  aecnsatioo,  tiio^ght  Hfrniml  t»  w 
tire ;  and,  I  believe,  never  attempted  afterwards  to  apeak  to  her. ' 

Bui,  shocked  as  he  v?as  vrith  her  fUsbood  and  her  craelty,  he  inuigiiwid  thai  she 
hikendednoother  use4^her  lie,  than  to  s^  herself  free  from  his  embmeesand  wiliiila 
tiaB«,  and  was  vety  far  fram  suspecting  tbat^she  would  treasure  itm  her  mcioiy  mm 
instnnneatcf  future  wickedness,  or  that  «he  wooU  endeavour  for  tfab  fiditioBi 
to  deism  him  of  his  life. 

But  when  tbe  ipieen  was  solidted  for  his  pardon,  and  mfeanod  of  the  aevaee 
men!  whidi  he  had  sufiered  from  his  judgi^  jdie  anawered,  that*  iiowevcf  i 
might  be  the  manner  of  his  trial,  or  whatever  extenuation  the  action  for  which  bo  wm 
MMkmmdflnghindmit,  she  c<Mdd  not  thmk  diat  man  a  pvaper  ol^ecA  ^  the  hinges 
anen^,  wfe»  Jiad  beencafiaUe  of  jenlermg  Usjmothcr's  house  in  the  vi^  viMianJBMt 
temuednrfaec 

By^whnmAhisalrooioniiriuinwyhndiiaantansnritted  tptto 
mTcnted  had  the  front  to  relate  it;  whether:sha  jaund  wkj  one  weak  s>ingh  t»  Mrik 
at,  ordttKupt'enBngkio  concur  iitfi  bar  in  kerhaleMdei^ni  IbMirMhteHmfettRKls 

lOKr.S«vsg«^UIe» 


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LIFE  OF  SAVAGE.  t5T 

.hnsitglhen  fo  persuade  the  queen  so  strongly  of  die  trudi  of  it,  that  she  for  m 
:  dme  ceibaed  to  liear  aay  one  of  those  who  petitiooed  for  lui  life. 

Thus  had  Savage  perished  by  the  evidence  c^  a  hawd,  a  strompel,  and  fak  inodier^ 
I  noit  justice  and  compassion  procured  fakn  an  advocate  of  rank  too  great  to  be  rcject<« 
ed  unheard,  and  of  virtue  too  eminent  to  be  heard  without  being  bdieved.  His  meiH 
mi  iiis  ddaniifiesiiappened  to  reach  the  ear  of  the  countess  of  Heitford,  who  engaged 
ID  4iis  sup|)ort  with  aU  the  tenderness  that  is  excited  by  pity,  and  aH  the  aeal  which  is 
luodled  by  generosity ;  and,  demanding  an  audience  of  the  queen,  laid  before  her  the 
whole  series  of  his  mother's  cruelty,  exposed  the  improbability  of  an  accusation  by  which 
Jie  was  4diaq^  with  an  intent  to  commit  a  nmzder  that  ctkild  produce  no  advantage^ 
and  soon  convinced  bar  how  little  his  former  conduct  oould  deserve  to  be  mentioned  aa 
a  reason  for  extraordinary  severity. 

IV  interposition  <^  this  lady  was  so  sucoessfol,  thai  he  was  soon  after  admitted  lo  baiJ^ 
and,  on  the  9tb  of  March  1728,  pleaded  die  king's  pardon. 

It  is  aaftnral  to  inquire  up<m  what  motives  his  mother  ooM  persecute  him  in  a  man- 
Mtr  so  outrageous  and  implacable ;  for  what  reason  she  could  employ  aH  the  arts  a( 
malice,  arnlall  the  snares  of  calumny,  to  take  away  the  life  of  her  own  son,  of  a  soft 
Mio  neier  ii^iued  her,  who  was  never  supported  by  her  expense,  nor  obstructed  any 
poo^pect  of  pleasure  or  advantage :  why  she  would  endeavour  to  destroy  hmi  by  a  lie — 
a  lie  which  could  not  gain  credit,  but  must  vanish  of  itsdfat  the  first  momest  of  exfuni* 
nation,  and  of  which  only  this  can  be  said  to  make  it  probable,  thalitmay  be  observed 
isom  her  conduct,  that  the  aiost  execrable  criaMp  are  sometimea  oommiUed  withoak 
-appasmt  temptation* 

This  OMtlier  is  stil  alive ^',  and  may  perbapaeven  jwl,  though  her  malk)e  was  so  oAeii 
defeated,  en^oy  the  pleasure  of  reflecdng,  that  the  life  which  she  often  endeavovred  to 
destroy,  was  at  kttt  shortened  by  her  maternal  offices;  that  though  she  could  not 
tnnspqrt  her  son  to  the  plantations,  bury  him  in  the  shop  of  a  mechanic,  or  hasten  Hie 
hand  oi  the  public  executioner,  she  has  yet  had  the  satisfoctian  of  imbittering  all  hb 
hours,  and  forcing  him  mto  exigencies  that  hurried  on  his  death. 

It  is  by  no  means  necessary  to  aggravate  the  enormity  of  this  woman's  eondti^  by 
pbdng  it  in  opposition  to  that  of  the  couiitcss  of  Hertford;  ao  one  can  Ail  to  observe 
hofw  mudi  more  ansiable  it  is  to'relieve,  than  to  opprsss»  and  to  rescue  moooenoe  fnm 
destruction,  than  to  destroy  without  an  injuiy. 

BIr.  Savage,  during  his  imprisonment,  his  trial,  and  the  time  in  wfaicfa  he  lay  under 
addence  of  deaUi,  behaved  with  great  firmness  md  equality  of  mind,  and  eo^rmed 
by^iis  fortitude  the  esteem  of  those  who  before  admued  hhn  tor  his  abilities^.  The 
peoriiareapcumstuces  of  his  life  ware  made  more  generally  known  by  a  short  account*, 

SI  She  died  Oct.  11,  1733,  at  her  houae  in  Old  Bood  Street,  aged  above  fouriDore.  R, 
xit  appears  that  dariog  bis  confinement  he  wrote  a  letter  to  hit  mother,  which  he  sent  toTb^ophSus 
Cibtyer,  that  it  might  be  transmitted  to  her  through  the  means  of  Mr.  Wilks.  In  his  letter  to  Cibber 
he  A3r9— *'  A»  to  d^th,  I  am  easy,  and  dare  meet  it  like  a  maii--aU  that  toaches  me  is  the  concern 
sf  asgr^icads,  aod  a  teconcilameot  with  my  mother— I  oamiot  etcfnA  the  agony  I  fidt  when  I  wrote 
^halsMiartoher— ify«nc«&  find  any  decept  ejocuae  Ipr  ohofwing  it  to  Mrk  OldfieM,  do;  fbrlwooid 
4m^  aQ  my  friends  (and  that  admirable  lady  in  partknlar)  be  satiafiiBd  I  have  4oi^  my  do^  towax4i 
It— Dr.  Toung  to  day  sent  me  a  letter,  most  passionately  lund.'.'  i2, 
«  Written  by  My»  "BncWtif^wiia  aajtl  SMOftw, jgwrttoian,    J)r*J. 

yoi^a  s 


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158  LIFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

whicli  was  then  pubUsbed,  and  of  wbich  several  thousands  weie  in  a  few  weeks  disper- 
sed over  the  nation :  and  the  compassion  of  mankind  operated  so  powolully  in  his  fimn^ 
tliat  be  was  enabled,  by  firequent^presents,  not  only  to  ^pport  himself  bat  to  nwiff  Mr. 
Gregory  in  prison;  aml^  when  he  was  panloned and  lekased^he found  themyaberaf 
his  friends  not  lessened. 

The  nature  of  the  act  for  which  he  bad  been  tried  was  in  itself  doubtful;  of  the  eti* 
deuces  which  appeared  against  him,  the>character  of  the  man  was  not  unexcqitioaaMea 
that  of  the  woman  notoriously  infiunous;  she,  whose  testunony  chiefly  inflaenced  the 
jury  to  condenm  him,  afterwards  retracted  her  assertions.  He  alwayshimaelf  dened 
that  he  %vas  drunk,  "as  had  been  generally  reported.  Mr.  Gregory,  who  b  now  (1744) 
Ck>Uector  .of  Antigua,  is  said  to  declare  him  far.less  criminal  than  he  was  ima^inidl, 
even  by  some  who  favoured  him ;  and  Page  himself  afterwards  confessed,  that  he  had 
treated,  him  with  unoommon  rigour.  When  ail  these  particulars  aie.  rated  to^eChei^ 
perhaps  the  memory  of  Savage  may  not  b^  much  sullied  by  his  triaL 

Some  time  after  he  obtained  his  liberty,  ne  met  in  the  street  the  woman  wha  had 
Jwom  with  so  much  malignity  against  him.  She  informed  him,  that  she  was  iadittiwij 
mid,,  with  a  degree  of  confidence  not  easily  attainable,  desired  him  to  relieve  her.  He» 
instead  of  insulting  her  nusery,  and  takmg  pleasure  in  the  calamities  of  one- who  lad 
brought  his  life  into  danger,  reproved  her  gently  for  her  pei^ury ;  and  changing  tint 
•«nly  guinea  that  he  had,  divided  it  equally  between  hef  and  himself 

Hiis  ban  (iction  which  in  some  ages  would  have  made  a  saint,  and  perhaps  m  olher^ 

!%  heni,  dnd  which,  without  any  hypednilieal  encomrams,  must  be  allowed  to  be  an  in* 

stance  of  uncommon  generosity,  an  act  of  complicated  virtue ;  by  which  he  at  oooe  wp^ 

Uevedthe  poor,  conretted  the  vick>us,and  forgave  an  enemy ;  by  wfaidi  he  at  once  renuK 

;  ted  tim  stxongest  piovocations,  and  exerdsed  the  most  ardent  charily. 

Cooapassion  was  indeed  the  disUnguishipg  quality  of  Savage ;  he  newer  appeared 
Mc)iBed-to  t^jke  advantage  of  weakness,  to  attack  the  defenceless,  or  to  press  upon  the 
filUitig:  wboever.^n^  dbtressed,  was  certain  at  least  of  hb  good  wishes;  and  when  he 
could  give  no  assbtance  to  extricate  them  from  misfortunes,  heendeaivoared  to  aooth 
them  by  &ympathy  and  tenderness. 

But  when  hb  heart  was  not  softened  by  the  «^  of  misery,  he  was  aometones  obati^ 
ijaate  io:hb  resentment^  and  di4  not  quickly  lose  the  remembranoe  of  an  iiynry.  He- 
always  continued  to  speak  with  anger  of  the  iasoknce  and  partiality  of  Pa^ge^  and  n 
•hart  time  before,  hb  death  revenged  it  by  a.  satire  ^. 

It  b  tt^ural  to  inquiceinwhat  terms  Mr.  Savage  spoke  of  thb  fatal  action,  when  the 
danger  was  over,  and  he  was  under  no  necessity  of  usmg  any  art  tosethb  conckict  in  the 
.laire^t light*  He  was.not  willing  to  dwell  upon  it;  and,  if  be  transiently  mentkmed  it, 
appeared  neither  to  consider  himself  as  a  murderer,  nor  as  a  man  wholly  ftee  from  the  goStt 
of  blood  ^.  How  much  and  how  long  he  regretted  it,  appeared  in  a  poem  which  he  pub- 
Ibhed  many  years  afterwards.  On  occasion  of  a  copy  of  verses,  in  which  the  fiulinga  of 
good  men  were  recounted,  and  in  wbich  the  author  had  endeavoured  to  illustrate  hb  posi- 
tion, that  '<thebest  may  sometimes  deviatefrom  vurtnet^byanmstaneeofnuudercem- 
mitted  by  Savage  in  the  heat  of  wine.  Savage  r^narked,  that  it  was  no  very  just  represen- 
tation  of  a  good  man,  to  suppose  him  liable  to  drunkenness,  aud  disposed  in  hbriol^te 

cut  throats. 

' «« PrintM  in  the  late  collection. 
^  Id  one  of  hie  letters  he  itylvs  it .«  a  iatal  ^quarrel,  but  too  well  known,**    Z>r.  /. 


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LIFE  OF  SAVAGE*  S59 

tie  wtti  now  indeed  ift  liberty,  but  was»  as  before^  without  any  other  support  than 
tocddental  favours  and  uncertain  patronage  afforded  him ;  sources  by  which  he  was 
sometimes  Very  liberally  supplied,  and  which  at  other  times  were  suddenly  stopped ; 
•o  tlmt  he  spent  his  life  between  want  and  plenty;  or,  what  was  yet  worse,  between 
beggary  and  extravagance;  for,  as  whatever  he  received  was  the  gift  of  chance,  which 
might  as  well  favour  him  at  one  time  as  another,  he  was  tempted  to  squander  what  he 
had,  because  he  always  hoped  to  be  immediately  su{^lied. 

Anpther  caite  of  his  profusion  was  the  absurd  kindness  of  his  friends,  who  at  once 
rewarded  and  enjoyed  his  abilities,  by  treating  hkn  at  taverns,  and  habituating  him  to 
pleasures  wliidi  he  could  not  afford  to  enjoy,  and  which  he  was  not  able  to  deny  him- 
ae^  though  be  purchased  Ike  luxury  of  a  single  night  by  the  anguish  of  cold  and  hun^ 
ger  for  a  we^ 

The  experience  of  these  inconveniepces  determined  him  to  endeavour  after  some 
■ettkd  income,  which,  having  long  found  submission  and  entreaties  fruitless,  he  attempted 
to  extort  from  his  mother  by  rougher  methods.  He.  had  now,  as  be  acknowledge(](^ 
lost  that  tenderness  for  her,  which  the  whole  series  of  her  cruelty  had  not  been  able 
wholly  to  jepress,  till  he  feund,  by  the  efforts  which  she  made  for  his  destruction,  that 
she  was  not  content  with  refusing  to  assbt  him,  and  being  neutral  in  his  struggles  with 
poverty,  but  was  ready  to  snatch  every  opportunity  of  adding,  to  his  misfortunes ;  and 
that  she  wa&  to  be  considered  as  an  enemy  implacably  malicious,  whom  nothing  but 
his  blood  could  satisfy.  He  therefore  threatened  to  harass  her  with  lampoons,  and  to 
pvblish  a  copious  narrative  of  her  conduct,  unless  she  consented  to  purchase  an  exempt 
lion  from  infamy  by  allowing  him  a  pension. 

This  expedient  proved  successful.  Whether  shame  still  survived,  though  virtue  was 
extinct,  or  whether  her  relations  had  more  delicacy  than  herself,  and  imagined  that  some 
of  the  da^  which  satire  might  point  at  her  would  ^ance  upon  them ;  lord  Tyrconnel, 
whatever  were  his  motives,  upon  hb  promise  to  lay  aside  his  design  of  exposing  the 
cruelty  of  his  mother,  received  him  mto  his  family,  treated  him  as  lus  equal,  and  en* 
gaged  to  allow  him  a  pension  of  two  hundred  pounds  a  year. 

This  was  the  golden  part  of  Mr.  Savage's  life ;  and  for  some  time  he  had  no  reason 
to  c<miplain  of  fortune;  hb  appearance  was  splendid,  hb  expenses  large,  and  bb 
acquaintance  extensive.  He  was  courted  by  all  who  endeavoured  to  be  thought  men 
of  genius,  and  caressed  by  all  who  valued  themselves  upon  a  refined  taste.  To  ad- 
nure  Air.  Savage,  was  a  proof  of  discernment ;  and  to  be  acquainted  with  him,  was  a 
title  |o  poetical  reputation.  Hb  presence  was  sufficient  to  m^ke  any  place  of  public 
entertainment  popular ;  and  hb  approbation  and  example  constituted  the  fashion.  So 
powerful  n  genius,  when  it  b  invested  with  the  glitter  of  afBuence !  Men  willingly  pay 
to  fortune  that  regard  which  they  owe  to  merit,  and  are  pleased  when  they  have  aa 
opportunity  at  once  of  gratifying  their  vanity,  and  practising  their  duty. 

Thi»  interval  of  prosperity  fumbhed  him  with  opportunities  of  enlarging  hb  know- 
ledge of  human  nature,  by  contemplating  life  from  its  highest  gradations  to  its  lowest ; 
and,  iiad  he  afterwards  applied  to  dramatic  poetry,  he  would  perhaps  not  have  had 
many  superiors;  for,  as  he  never  suffered  any  scene  to  pass  before  hb  eyes  withoit 
notice,  he  had  treasured  in  his  nund  all  the  different  combinations  of  passjons>  and  the 
ionumerabk  mixtureai  of  vice  and  virtue,  which  dbtinguisb  one  character  from  another;^ 

S2 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


960  UFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

knd,  as  his  ccmceptibn  was  strong,  his  expressioiis  were  clear,  be  eaatjreceifed  imptcs- 
lions  from  objects,  and  verjr  forcibly  transmitted  tbem  to  odiers. 

Of  his  exact  observations  on  human  life  be  has  teft  a  proof,  wluch  woaki  do  hcoont 
to  the  greatest  names,  in  a  small  pamphlet,  called  The  Author  to  be  Let  ^^  where  be 
introduces  Iscariot  Hackney,  a  prostitute  scribbler,  giving  aa  acootfnt  ^  bb  birti^  hil 
education,  his  disposition,  and  morals,  habits  of  life,  and  maxims  of  conduct  Ib  the 
introduction  are  rdated  many  secret  histories  of  the  petty  writers  of  that  time,  Hnt  seme- 
times  mixed  with  ungenerous  reflections  on  their  birth,  thdr  drcmn^nee^  w  ^bow  of 
their  relations;  nor  can  it  be  denied,  that  some  passages  are  such  as  tscariet  tfaeknej 
might  himself  have  produced. 

He  was  accused  likewise  of  living  in  an  appearance  of  fnend^ip  with  SMfve  wboiA 
be  satirised,  and  of  making  use  of  the  confidence  which  he  gained  by  a  sec!«nki|f  kind- 
iiess,  to  discover  failings  B^d  expose  them :  it  must  be  confessed,  that  Mr.  Sttage's^ 
esteem  was  no  very  certain  possession,  and  that  be  would  lampoon  at  one  tine  ^oet 
whom  he  had  praised  at  another. 

It  may  be  alleged,  that  the  same  man  may  change  his  principles;  $SbA  that  lie  ytA» 
was  once  deservedly  commended  may  be  ailenvards  satirised  with  equal  JttHticc;  of; 
tiiat  the  poet  was  dazzled  with  the  appearance  of  Tirtne,  and  fomid  the  nan  wimn  ht 
bad  celebrated,  when  he  had  an  opportunity  of  examining  him  more  narrowly,  unwor- 
thy of  the  panegyric  which  he  had  too  hastily  bestowed ;  and  that,  as  a  Adse  sativt 
4>ught  to  be  recanted,  for  the  sake  of  him  whose  reputation  may  be  mjured,  fai^  pndst 
ought  likewise  to  be  obviated,  lest  the  distraction  between  vfee  and  virtue  should  be 
lost,  lest  a  bad  nan  should  be  trusted  wpon  the  credit  of  hn  encomiast,  or  lest  others 
ahouM  endeavour  to  obtain  the  like  praises  by  the  same  means. 

But  though  these  excuses  may  be  often  plausible,  and  sometimes  just,  they  are  vei^ 
aeldom  satisfactory  lo  mankind ;  and  Uie  writer  who  is  not  constant  to  liis  subject^ 
quickly  sinks  into  contempt,  his  satire  loses  its  force,  and  his  panegyric  its  value ;  and 
he  is  only  considered  at  one  time  as  a  flatterer,  and  as  a  calummator  at  another. 

To  avoid  these  imputations,  it  is  only  necessary  to  follow  the  rules  of  vhtue,  and  to 
preserve  an  unvaried  regard  to  trnth.  For  though  it  is  undoubtedly  possible  that  a 
man,  however  cautious,  may  be  sometimes  deceived  by  an  artful  appearanee  of  thftiie, 
or  by  false  evidences  of  guilty  wmch  errours  will  not  be  frequent ;  and  it  will  be  allowed, 
that  the  name  of  an  author  would  never  have  been  niade  contemptible,  had  no  man 
ever  said  what  he  did  not  think,  or  misled  others  but  when  he  %vas  himsetf  deceived. 

The  Author  to  be  Let  was  first  published  in  a  single  pamphlet,  and  afterwards  inserted 
in  a  collection  of  pieces  rekting  to  the  Dundad,  which  were  addressed  l)y  Mr.  Savage  to 
the  earl  of  Middlesex,  in  a  dedication  ^  which  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  s^,  tboagib 
lie  did  not  write  it,  and  in  which  there  are  some  positions,  that  the  true  author  would  per- 
liaps  not  have  published  Under  his  own  name,  and  on  which  Mr.  Savage  afterwtirds  re* 
fleeted  with  no  great  satisfiiction ;  the  enumeration  of  the  bad  ^fects  of  the  tmcontroled 
jh^dom  of  the  press,  and  the  assersion  that  the  lil>erties  taken'by  the  Writers  of  jouiw 
Hals  with  ''their  superiors  were  exorbitant  and  unjustifiable,''  veiy  ill  beeanie  niea,<vHio 
have  themselves  not  always  shown  the  exactest  regard  to  the  laws  of  ^bordhnktiott  in 
iheir  writings,  and  who  have  often  satirised  those  that  at  least  thought  themsdras  dveir 

Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


lif;b  of  sataoe.  %6i 

mtpmom,  as  tlwy  were  cmineiil  for  their  faereditiiy  rank,  and  employed  in  the  highest 
ofices  of  the  kingdom.  But  thn  is  only  an  instance  of  thai  partiality  which  almost 
eveiy  mm  indulges  with  r^ard  to  hiiiisdf :  the  liberty  of  the  press  is  a  blessing  when 
we  ue  mdiiied  to  write  against  others,  and  a  calamity  when  we  6nd  ourselves  over- 
borne by  the  multitude  of  our  assailants ;  as  the  power  of  the  crown  is  always  thought 
too  great  by  those  who  suffer  by  its  influence,  and  too  little  by  those  m  whose  favour 
it  is  eieited;  ai|d  a  standing  army  is  generally  accountad  necessary  by  those  who  com* 
mand,  and  dangerous  and  oppressive  by  those  who  support  it 
Mr.  Savage  was  likewise  veiy  far  from  believing  that  the  letters  annexed  to  each 
I  of  bad  poets  b  the  Bathos  were,  as  be  was  directed  to  assert,  ^  set  down  at 
I ;"  for  when  he  was  chai^^^d  by  one  of  bis  friends  with  putting  his  name  to 
such  an  improbability,  he  had  no  other  answer  to  make  than  that  ^  he  did  not  think  of 
itr  and  his  friend  had  too  much  tenderness  to  reply,  that  next  to  the  crime  of  writing 
oontfiry  to  what  he  thought,  was  that  of  writing  without  thihking. 

After  having  remarked  what  is  fiUse  in  this  dedication,  it  is  proper  that  I  observe  tiio 
imparttality  which  I  recommend,  by  declaring  what  Savage  asserted,  that  the  account 
of  the  circumstanoes  which  attended  the  publication  of  the  Dunckd,  however  strango 
and  iaoprobable,  was  exactly  true. 

The  publication  of  this  piece  at  this  time  raised  Mr.  Savage  a  great  number  of  ene- 
laies  among  those  that  were  attacked  by  Mr.  Pope,  vrith  whom  he  was  consklered  as  a 
kind  of  confederate,  and  Mom  he  was  suspected  of  supplying  wMh  private  intell^ence 
and  secret  incidents^  so  that  the  ignominy  of  an  informer  was  added  to  the  terrour  of 
a  satirist 

That  he  was  not  alt<^ther  free  from  literary  hypocrisy,  and  that  he  sometimes  spoke 
one  thing  and  wrote  another,  cannot  be  denied ;  because  be  himsielf  confessed,  tha^ 
when  he  lived  in  great  fiimiliarity  with  Dennis,  he  wrote  an  epigram  ^  against  him. 

Mr.  Savage,  how<>ver,  set  all  the  malice  of  all  the  pigmy  writers  at  defiance,  and 
thought  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Pope  cheaply  purchased  by  being  exposed  to  their  cen- 
sure and  their  hatred ;  nor  had  he  any  reason  to  repent  of  the  preference,  for  he  found 
Mr.  Pope  a  steady  and  unalienable  friend  almost  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

About  this  time,  notwithstanding  his  avowed  neutrality  with  regard  to  party,  he 
published  a  panegyric  on  sir  Robert  Walpole,  for  which  he  was  rewarded  by  him  with 
twenty  guineas ;  a  sum  not  very  large,  if  either  the  exceilenoe  of  the  performance,  or 
the  afliuence  of  the  patron,  be  considered ;  but  greater  thim  he  afterwards  obtained 
torn  a  person  of  yet  higher  rank,  and  more  desirous  m  af^warance  of  lieing  distm- 
guided  as  a  patron  of  literature. 

As  he  was  very  far  from  approvmg  the  conduct  of  sir  Robert  Walpole,  and  in  co»* 
versation  mentioned  hhn  sometimes  with  acrimony,  and  generally  vrilh  contempt;  as 

*  niis  €pis;Fam  was,  I  believt,  never  poUiflied. 

Shoakl  Deans  pnblkh  yoa  had  stabbed  yov  bradier, 
Lampoon'd  your  mooareh,  or  debauched  yoar  moUier; 
Say,  what  revenge  oo  Dennb  can  be  had» 
Too  daH  for  laughter,  for  reply  too  mad } 
On  one  so  poor  yon  cannot  take  the  law. 
On  one  so  old  yonr  sword  yon  scorn  to  draw. 
Unoag*d  then,  let  the  haiupJass  aooiter  rage, 
jsowc  indslnsi^  msrtawi^  want,  sad  sg^    J>r,J* 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


262  UFE  OF  SAVAGE- 

he  was  one  of  those  who  were  always  zealous  in  their  assertions  of  the  jostioe  of  the 
late  opposition,  jealous  of  the  rights  of  the  people,  and  alarmed  by  the  long-ooatinued 
triumph  of  the  court;  it  was  natural  to  ask  him  whabcould  induce  him  to  employ  hit 
poetry  in  praise  of  that  man  who  was,  in  bis  opinion,  an  enemy  to  liberty,  and  an  op- 
pressor of  his  country?  He  alleged,  that  he  was  then  dependent  upon  the  lordlTyrcon- 
nel,  who  was  an  implicit  follower  of  the  ministry;  and  that,  being  enjoined  by  htm,  not 
without  menaces,  to  write  in  praise  of  hb  leadei*,  he  had  not  resolution  sufficient  to 
sacrifice  the  pleasure  of  affluence  to  that  of  integrity. 

On  this,  and  on  many  other  occasions,  he  was  ready  to  lament  the  misery  of  living 
at  the  tables  of  other  men,  which  was  hb  fate  from  the  begmning  to  the  end  of  his  life; 
for  I  know  not  whether  he  ever  had,  for  three  months  together,  a  settled  habitation,  in 
which  he  could  chum  a  right  of  resklence. 

To  thb  unhappy  state  it  is  just  to  impute  much  of  the  uiconstancy  of  hb  conduct; 
for  though  a  readiness  to  comply  with  the  inclinatron  of  others  was  no  part  of  hb  mtural 
character,  yet  he  was  sometimes  obliged  to  relax  hb  obstinacy,  and  submit  hb  own 
judgment,  and  even  hb  virtue,  to  the  government  of  those  by  whom  he  was  supported: 
so  that,  if  hb  mberies  were  sometimes  the  consequences  of  hb  faults,  he  ought  not  yet 
to  be  wholly  excluded  from  compassion,  because  hb  fieuilts  were  very  often  the  e&tU 
of  his  mbfortunes.  ' 

In  this  gay  period  ^  of  hb  life,  while  he  was  surrounded  hy  affluence  and  pleasuNv 
he  published  The  Wanderer,  a  moral  poem,  of  which  the  dcmga  b  comprised  in  tbeit 
lines. 

I  fly  all  pablic  care,  all  venal  strife, 
To  try  the  rtiU,  oompar'd  with  active  life } 
To  prove,  by  these,  the  eons  of  men  may  owo 
The  fruits  of  bliss  to  bursting  clouds  of  woe  ; 
That  ev'n  calamity,  by  thought  refin*d. 
Inspirits  and  adorns  the  thinking  mind. 

And  more  distmetly  m  the  followiog  passage: 

By  woe,  the  soul  to  daring  action  swells ; 
By  woe,  in  plaintless  patience  it  excels : 
From  patience,  prudent  clear  experience  springs, 
And  trac^  knowledge  through  the  course  of  thmgs ! 
•  Thence  hope  is  formed,  thence  fortitude,  success, 

Keoown  :<^whate'er  men  covet  and  caress. 

Thb  performance  was  always  considered  by  himself  as  his  master-piece ;  and  Mr* 
Pope,  when  he  asked  hb  opinion  of  it,  told  him,  that  be  read  it  once  over,  and  was  not 
displeased  with  it ;  that  it  gave  him  more  pleasure  at  the  second  perusal,  and  delighted 
him  still  more  at  the  third. 

It  has  been  generally  objected  to  The  Wanderer,  that  the  disposition  of  the  parts  b 
urregular ;  that  the  design  is  obscure,  and  the  plan  perplexed ;  that  the  images,  however 
beautiful,  succeed  each  other  without  order ;  and  that  the  whole  performance  b  not  so 
much  a  regular  fabric,' as  a  heap  of  shining  materials  thrown  together  by  accident,  which 
strikes  rather  with  the  solemn  magnificence  of  a  stupendous  rum,  than  the  elegant 
grandeur  of  a  finished  pile. 


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XIFE  OF  SAVAGE.  26$ 

'  ThiA  Gritidflii  is  imiTena],  and  therefore  it  is  reosonaUe  to  bdieve  it  at  lea^  in  a 
ifreat  degree  just;  but  Mr.  Savage  was  always  of  a  cootrary  opinion,  and  thought  his 
drift  could  only  be  missed  by  negligence  or  stupidity,  and  that  the  whole  plan  was  legular, 
and  the  parts  distinct. 

.  It  was  never  denied  to  idbonnd  with  strong  representations  of  nature,  and  just  obser* 
nUions  upoa  life ;  and  it  may  easily  be  observed,  that  most  of  his  pictures  fanve  an  evi« 
dent  tendency  to  illustrate  his  first  great  position,  '^  that  good  is  the  consequence  of 
eviL**  The  Sua  that  bums  up  the  mountains,  fructifies  the  vales ;  the  deluge  that  rushes 
4owa  the  broken  rodts  with  dreadful  impetuosity,  b  separated  into  purling  brooks; 
and  the  rage  pf  the  hurricane  purifies  the  air. 

Sven  in  this  poem  he  has  not  been  able  to  forbear  one  touch  upon  the  cruelty  of  his 
mother,  whkh,  though  remarkably  delicate  and  tender,  is  a  proof  how  deep  an  impres- 
sion it  had  upon  his  muxL 

TUs  most  be  at  least  acknowledged,  which  ^ught  to  be  thought  equivalent  to  many 
otter  excellencies,  that  this  poem  can  promote  no  otiier  purposes  than  those  of  virtue, 
md  thai  it  is  written  with  a  very  strong  sense  of  the  effica<7  of  religion. 

But  ny  provmce  is  rather  to  give  the  history  of  Mr.  Savage'^  performances  then  to 
display  theur  beauties,  or  to  obviate  the  criticisms  which  they  have  occasioned ;  and 
thmfore  I  shall  not  dwell  upon  the  particular  passa^  which  deserve  applause ;  I  shall 
ndtber  show  the  exceUence  of  his  descriptions,  nor  expatiate  on  the  terrific  portrait  of 
suicide,  nor  point  out  the  artful  touches  by  which  he  has  distinguished  the  mteliectual 
fe^tres  of  the  rebels  who^sufier  death  in  his  last  canto.  It  is,  however,  proper  to  observe, 
that  Mr.  Savage  always  declared  the  characters  wholly  fictitious,  and  without  the  least 
allusion  to  any  real  persons  or  actions. 

>  From  a  poem  so  diligently  laboured,  and  so  successfully  finished,  it  might  be  rea* 
sonably  expected  that  he  should  have  gained  considerable  advantage;  nor  can  it  with« 
out  some  degree  of  indignation  and  concent  be  told,  that  he  sold  the  copy  for  ten 
gnineas,  of  which  he  afterwards  returned  two,  that  the  two  last  sheets  of  the  work 
might  be  reprinted,  of  which  he  had  in  his  absence  intrusted  the  correction-  to  m 
firioid,^  who  was  too  uidolent  to  perform  it  with  accuracy. 

.  A  sapenlitaous  n^ard  to  the  correction  of  his  sheets^  was  one  of  Mr.  Savage's  pecu- 
liarities: he  often  altered,  revised,  recurred  to  h»  first  reading  or  punctuation,  and 
again  adopted  the  alteration ;  he  was  dubious  and  irresolute  without  end,  as  on  a  ques* 
tioa  of^the  last  importance,  and  at  last  was  seldom  satisfied :  the  btrusion  or  omissioa 
of  a  comma  was  sufficient  to  discompose  him,  and  be  would  lament  an  errour  of  a  single 
letter  as  a  Jieavy  calamity.  In  one  of  his  letters  relating  to  an  impression  of  some 
verses,  be  remarks,  that  he  had,  with  regard  to  the  correction  of  the  proof,  "  a  spell 
upon  him ;"  and  indeed  the  anxiety  with  which  he  dwelt  upon  the  minutest  and  most 
trifling  niceties  deserved  no  other  name  iban  that  of  fascfaxettion. 
.  That  he  sokLso  valuable  a  performance  for  so  small  a  price,  was  not^o  be  hnputed 
titfaer.U)  necessity,  by  which  the  learned  and  ingenious  are  often  obliged  to  submit  to 
very. hard  conditions;  or  to  avarice,  by  which  the  bookseUers  are  frequently  incite  to- 
•piM'QSS.tbat  genius  by  which  they  are  supported;  but  to  that  intemperate  desire  of 
pleasure,  and  habitual  slaveiy  to  his  passions,  which  involved  him  in  many  perplexities. 
He  happened  at  that  time  to  be  engaged  ip  jthe  pursuit  of  some  trifling  gratificalion^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


464  UFE  OF  SAVAGE; 

$iad,  hemg  \nth<mt  fnooej  for  the  present  occasbo,  add  hm  pottfn  to  the  fim  bkM^r, 
.  and  perhaps  for  the  first  price  thfit  was  propoied>  and  would  probtUy  hate  been  ced* 
tent  Witfa  lessy  if  lesB  had  been  ofiered  hin^. 

This  poem  was  addressed  to  the  lord  l^rconnel,  not  only  m  the  first  lines,  bat  in  a 
Ibnnai  dedication  filled  with  the  highest  strains  of  pan^ric*  and  the  wannest  profes- 
sions of  latitude,  but  by  no  means  remaikable  for  cfeKcacy  of  cMidexion  or  degaael 
of  style. 

These  praises  in  a  short  time  he  fbond  himself  incKned  to  retract,  t^fng  discarded 
bjy  the  man  on  whom  he  had  bestowed  them,  and  whom  he  then  immediately  diaco^ 
"Jered  not  to  have  deserved  them.  Of  this  quarrel,  which  every  day  made  more  inttefft 
lord  Tyrconnel  and  Mr.  Savage  assigned  very  different  reasons,  lifttkrh  might  perhaps 
di  in  reality  concur,  though  they  woe  not  all  convenieol  to  be 'alleged  by  dther  party. 
Lord  Tyrconnel  afiirmed,  that  it  was  the  constant  practice  of  Mr.  Savage  to  enter  a 
tavern  with  any  company  that  proposed  it,  drink  the  most  expensive  wines  with  great 
profiision,  and  when  the  reckoning  was  demanded,  to  be  without  money :  if,  as  it  oifen 
happened,  his  company  were  wiHhig  to  defray  his  part,  die  affiiir  ended  withoiit  aliy  itt 
consequences ;  but  if  they  were  refractory,  and  expected  that  the  wnte  slMuld  he  paid 
for  by  him  that  drank  it,  his  method  of  composition  was»  to  take  them  with  hkn  to  Ids 
own  apartment,  assinne  tlte  government  of  the  house,  and  order  the  butler  in  an 
impenous  manner  to  set  the  best  wine  in  the  cellar  before  hb  company,  who  often  drank 
till  they  forgot  the  respect  due  to  the  -house  n  which  they  were  entertained,  indulged 
themselves  in  the  utmost  extnvagance  of  merriment,  practised  the  most  licentiow  fto* 
lies,  and  committed  all  the  outrages  of  drunkenness. 

Nor  was  thb  the  only  charge  which  lord  Tyrconnel  brought  against  libn :  having 
given  him  a  collection  of  valuable  books,  stamped  with  his  own  arms,  he  had  the  mor- 
tificatiou  tp  jsee  them  in  a  short  time  exposed  to  side  upon  the  stalls,  it  being  usual  witii 
Mr.  Savage,  when  he  wanted  a  small  sum,  to  take  his  books  to  the  pawnbroker. 

Whoever  was  acquainted  with  Mr.  Savage  easily  credited  both  these  accusirtioBs; 
fbr  having  been  obliged,  from  his  first  entrance  into  the  world,  to  subsist  upon  expe« 
dients,  affluence  was  not  able  to  exalt  him  above  them ;  and  so  much  was  he  delighted 
with  wine  and  conversation,  and  so  long  had  he  been  accustomed  to  hve  by  duulce, 
that  he  would  at  any  time  go  to  the  tavern  without  scruple,  and  trust  for  the  reckoning 
to  the  liberality  of  his  company,  and  frequently  of  company  to  whom  he  was  veiy  little 
known.  This  conduct  mdeed  very  seldom  drew  upon  him  those  mcooveniences  thai 
might  be  feared  by  any  other  person ;  for  his  conversation  was  so  entertaining,  and  his 
address  so  pleasing,  that  few  thought  the  pleasure  which  they  received  fwai  km  deatiy 
purchased,  by  paying  for  his  wine.  It  was  his  peculiar  hapfNness,  that  he  sctttely 
ever  foand  a  stranger,  whom  he  did  not  leave  a  frfend;  but  it  nuist  likewise  be  added, 
that  he  had  not  often  a  friend  long,  without  obliging  bbn  to  become  a  stranger. 

Mr.  Savage,  on  the  other  hand,  declared,  that  lord  IVroonnel  quarrelled  ^  with  fafan, 
because  he  would  not  subtract  from  his  own  luxury  and  extravagance  what  he  had 
inromised  to  allow  him,  and  that  Iris  resentment  was  only  a  plea  for  Hie  vh>faitioii  of  Ids 
promise.    He  assertsc^  that  he  had  done  nothing  that  ought  to  exclude  him  from  tim 

30  Hk  cocpretBioD  in  ooe  of  his  letters  was,  '*  thmt  lord  Tyroonnti  had  involTodhis  ^jrtatSiaaltlierefoia 
poorly  souc^an  oocaiionto  quarrel  witti  hftn.''    jyr.  Ji    ' 


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LIFE  OF  SAVAGE.  5M» 

9idiasleiice  whkli  be  tiioiigfat  not  so  mnch  a  ftvoor  as  a  debt,  siooe  it  was  offered  hka 
open  coDcHtioas  wliich  he  had  ilevcr  brohao;  and  that  his  only  fonk  was,  tfaatbeoonU 
not  be  supported  with  noChiog. 

He  acknowledged^  thai  lord  Tyrcoanel  often  exorled  Urn  to  regokte  his  method  of 
life,  and  not  to  spend  all  his  nights  m  tafems,  and  that  be  appeared  very  desirous  that 
he  wo«dd  pan  tboee  boars  with  hka,  whkh  be  so  fredj  bestowed  upon  others.  Tina 
demand  Mr.  Satage  consideied  as  a  oeasare  of  his  conduct,  which  he  could  never 
pstientiy  bear,  aid  whidi,  in  the  Utter  and  cooler  parts  of  his  life,  was  so  offensive  to 
him,  that  be  dedared  it  as  his  resolution,  *'  to  spom  that  friend  who  should  presume  to 
dictate  to  him;^  and  it  is  net  likely  that  in  his  earlier  yean  be  received  admonitions 
with  more  calmness. 

He  was  likewise  inclined  to  resent  such  expectations,  as  tending  to  infrmge  hb  liberty^ 
of  which  he  was  very  jealous,  whan  it  was  necessary  to  the  gratilicatiou  of  bis  passions  ; 
and  declared,  that  the  request  was  still  more  unreasonable,  as  the  company  to  which  he 
was  to  have  been  confined  was  insuppbrtably  disagreeable.  This  assersioa  affords  ano» 
tber  instaoce  of  that  inconsistency  of  his  writings  with  his  conversatioo,  which  was  so 
often  to  t>e  observed.  He  forgot  how  hr^ishly  he  had,  in  his  dedication  to  The  Wan- 
derer, eatoUed  the  dcKcaqr  «od  the  penetration,  the  humanity  and  generosity,  the  can- 
dovr  and  politeness  of  the  man,  whom,  when  he  no  longer  loved  him,  he  declared  to 
be  a  wretch  fvitlioat  anderslandng,  without  good-nature,  and  without  justice ;  of  whose 
name  he  thought  himself  obliged  to  leave  no  trace  m  any  future  edition  of  his  writii^  ; 
and  aecordkigly  Motted  it  out  of  that  copy  of  The  Wanderer  wbidi  was  in  his  hands. 

Daring  his.continuance  with  the  lord  Tyrconnel,  he  wrote  The  Triumph  of  Health  and 
Mirth,  on  the  recovery  of  lady  Tjrrconnel  from  a  languisbhig  illness.  This  perform- 
ance is  reraaifcable,  not  only  for  the  gaiety  of  the  ideas,  and  the  melody  of  the  num* 
ben,  bat  'for  the  agreeable  fiction  upon  which  it  is  formed.  Mirth,  overwhelmed 
with  sorrow  for  the  sickness  of  her  fovourite,  takes  a  fligbt  in  quest  of  her  sister 
Heakft,  whom  she  finds  redfaied  upon  the  brow  of  a  lofty  mountain,  amidst  the  fm* 
grance  of  perpetual  spring,  with  the  breezes  of  the  morning  sportbg  about  her.  Being 
seUcited  by  her  sbter  Mirth,  she  readily  promises  her  assistance,  flies  away  in  a  cloudy 
and  Impregnates  the  wiiten  of  Bath  with  new  virtues,  by  which  the  sickness  of  Belmda 
Is  relieved. 

As  the  reputation  of  his  i^lities,  the  partfeuliar  circumstances  of  his  birth  and  life,  the 
splendour  of  bis  appearance,  and  the  disthiction  which  was  for  some  time  paid  him  by 
lord  Tyrconnel,  ei^ed  hkn  to  ftmiliarity  with  penons  of  higher  rank  than  those  to 
whose  coDversatkm  he  had  been  before  admitted ;  be  did  not  fail  to  gratiiy  that  curiosi^ 
wWeh  induced  him  to  take  a  nearer  view  of  those  whom  their  birth,  their  employments^ 
or  tfaeir  fortunes,  necessarily  phiee  at  a  distance  from  the  greatest  part  of  mankind,  and 
to  examine  whether  their  merit  was  magaified  or  dfanhibhed  by  the  medium  through 
whieb  it  was  contemplated;  whether  the  splendour  with  whkh  they  daxzled  their  ad- 
nuren  was  inherent  in  themselves,  or  oidy  reflected  on  them  by  the  objects  that  sur- 
rounded them ;  and  whether  great  men  were  selected  for  faigh  stations,  or  h^  stations 
made  great  men* 

For  this  purpose  be  took  all  opportunities  of  conversug  fimuTiarly  with  those  who 
were  most  o^iqiicttous  «t  that  tiqie  for  their  power  or  their  inflneaoe;  be  watched 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


966  LIFE  OP  SAVAGR 

liieir  looser  moments,  and  examined  tbeir  domestic  behaviour,  with  that  acutenett 
which  nature  Jbad  given  him,  and  which  thetmcommon  variety  of  his  tife  had  costri- 
buted  to  increase,  and  that  inquisitiveness  which  must  always  be. produced  in  a  vigor* 
ous  mind,  by  an  absolute  freedom  from  all  pressing,  or  domestic  engagements* 

His  discernment  was  quick,  and  therefore  he  soon  found  in  every  person,  and  io 
every  affiur,  something  that  deserved  attention ;  he  was  suf^rted  by  others  without 
any  care  for  himself,  and  was  therefore  at  leisure  to  pursue  his  observations. 

More  circumstances  to  constitute  a  critic  on  human  life  could  nol  easily  ^coBcor; 
nor  md^ed  could  any  man»  who  assumed  from  acdd^tal  advantages  more  praise  than 
he  could  justly  claim  from  his  real  merit,  admit  any  acquaintance  more  dangprous  than 
that  of  Sarage :  of  whom  h'kewise  it  must  be  confessedi  that  abilities  really  exalted 
above  the  common  level,  or  virtue  refined  from  passicm*  or  proof  against  comiptioa> 
could  not  easily  fiad  an  abler  judge,  or  a  warmer  advocate. 

What  was  the  result  of  Mr.  Savage's  inquiry,  though  he  was  not  much  accustomed 
to  conceal  lus  discoveries,  it  may  not  be  entirely  safe  to  relate^  because  the  persons 
whose  characters  he  criticised  are  powerful ;  and  power  and  resentment  are  sddom 
stnmgers ;  nor  would  it  perhaps  be  wholly  just,  because  what  he  asserted  in  ommnat- 
lion  might,  though  true  m  general,  be  heightened  by  some  momentary,  u-dour  of.ima- 
ginataon,  and,  as  it  can  be  delivered  only  from  meinory,  may  be  imperfiectly  repre* 
sented ;  so  that  the  picture,  at  first  aggravated,  and  then  unskilfally  copied,  may  be 
justly  suspected  to  retain  no  great  resemUance  of  the  original. 

It  may,  however,  be  observed,  that  he  did  not  appear  to  have  formed  very  derated 
ideas  of  those  to  whom  the  administration  of  affiurs»  or  the  conduct  of  parties  has 
been  intrusted ;  who  have  been  considered  as  advocates  of  the  crown,  or  the  gmudiaiii 
of  the  people ;  and  who  have  obtained  the  most  hnplicit  confidwce,  and  the  loudest 
applauses!  Of  one  particuliar  person,  who  has  been  at  one  time  so  popular  as  to  be  gene« 
rally  esteemed,  and  at  another  so  formidable  as  to  be  universally  detested,  heobaerved^ 
that  his  acquisitions  had  been  small,  or  that  hb  capacity  was  narrow,  and  tha^  th^hdt 
range  of  his  mind  was  from  obscenity  to  politics,  and  from  potties  to  obscenity. 

But  the  opportunity  of  indulging  hb  speculations  on  great  cbaracte^rs  was.  now  iat  an 
end.  He  was  banbhed  from  the  table  of  lord  Tyrconoel,  and  tpmed  agam  adrift 
upon  the  world,  without  prospect  of  finding  quickly  any  other  harbour.  As  prudeiM 
was  not  one  of  the  virtues  by  which  he  was  distioguished,  he.  had  made  no.  proviaioa 
against  a  misfortune  like  thb.  And  though  it  b  not.to.be  imagined  buttl^t  tbe;se|Ni- 
ration  roust  for  some  time  have  be^  preceded  by  cQldoess,  peevishne^^  or  neglect, 
though  it  was  undoubtedly  the  consequence  of  accumulated  provocations  on  both  sid^; 
yet  every  one  that  knew  Savage  will  readily  believe,  that  to  him  it  was  sudden  as  a 
stroke  of  thunder;  that,  though  he  might  have  transiently  suspected  it,  he  h^d  never 
suffered  any  thought  so  unpleasing  to  sii^  into  fajs  mind ;  but;  that  he  had  driven  it 
«way  by  amusements,  or  dreams  of  A^ure  felicdy  and  affluence,  and  had  never  t^en 
aif  measures  by  which  he  might  prevent.a  precipitation  from  plenty  to  indi^oce. 

This  quarrel  and  separation,  and  the  difficulties  to  which  Mr.  I^V9ge  wi|8  exposed 
by  them,  were  soqu  known  both  to  hb  friends  and  enemies ;  nor  was  it  .long  before  h# 
perceived,  from  the  behaviour  of  both,  bow  mpch  is  fkiiifii  to  the  lustre  of  genius  by 
Ae  ornaments  of  wealth*  ..  /S   ^  •/ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


UFE  OP  SAVAGE.  lOt 

Hb  condition  did  not  appear  to  excite  much  compassion;  for  heliad  not  alwi^ 
been  careful  to  use  the  advantages  he  enjoyed  with  that  moderation  which  ou^t  t«i 
haye  been  with  more  than  usual  caution  preserved  by  him,  who  knew»  if  he  had  re^ 
fleeted,  that  he  was  only  a  dependent  on  the  bounty  of  another,  whom  he  could  expect 
to  support  him  no  longer  than  he  endeavoured  to  preserve  his  favour  by  complying  wifll 
his  inclinations,  and  whom  he  nevertheless  set  at  defiance,  and  was  continually  irritating 
by  negligence  or  encroachments. 

Examples  need  not  be  sought  at  any  great  distance  to  prove,  that  superiority  <^  finw 
tune  has  a  natural  tendency  to  kindle  pride,  and  that  pride  seldom  fails  to  exert  itself 
m  contempt  and  insult ;  and  if  this  is  often  the  effect  of  hereditary  wealth,  and  of  ho* 
nours  enjoyed  only  by  the  merit  of  others,  it  is  some  extenuation  of  any  indecent 
triumphs  to  which  this  unhappy  man  may  have  been  betrayed,  that  his  prosperity  was 
hdghtened  by  the  force  of  novelty,  and  made  more  intoxicating  by  a  sense  of  the  miseiy 
in  which  he  had  so  long  languished,  and  perhaps  of  the  insults  which  he  had  formerly 
borne,  and  which  he  might  now  think  himself  entitled  to  revenge:  It  is  too  conrnHm 
for  those  who  have  unjustly  suffered  pain,  to  inflict  it  likewise  m  th^ir  turn  with  the 
same  injustice,  and  to  imagine  that  they  have  a  right  to  treat  others  as  they  have  them- 
selves been  treated. 

That  Mr.  Savage  was  too  much  elevated  by  any  good  fortune,  b  generally  knoim  ; 
and  some  passages  of  his  Introduction  to  The  Author  to  be  Let,  sufficiently  show,  that 
he  did  not  wholly  refrain  from  such  satire,  as  he  afterwards  thought  very  unjust  when 
he  was  exposed  to  it  himself;  for,  when  he  was  afterwards  ridiculed  in  the  character 
of  a  distressed  poet,  he  very  easily  discovered,  that  distress  was  not  a  proper  subject 
for  merriment,  nor  topic  of  invective.  He  was  then  able  to  discern  that  if  misery  be 
the  iflect  of  vh-tue,  it  ought  to  be  reverenced ;  if  of  ill-fortune,  to  be  pitied ;  and  if  of 
vice,  not  to  be  insulted,  because  it  is  perhaps  itself  a  punishment  adequate  to  the  crime 
by  which  it  was  produced.  And  the  humanity  of  that  man  can  deserve  no  panegyric 
who  is  capable  of  reproaching  a  criminal  in  the  hands  of  the  executioner. 

But  these  reflections,  though  they  readily  occurred  to  him  in  the  first  and  last  parts 

of  his  life,  were,  I  am  afraid,  for  a  long  time  forgotten ;  at  least  they  were,  like  many 

other  maxims,  treasured  up  iu  his  mind  rather  for  show  than  use,  and  q>erated  veiy 

little  upon'  his  conduct,  however  elegantly  he  might  sometimes  explain,  or  however 

.  forcibly  he  might  inculcate,  them. 

His  degradation,  therefore,  from  the  condition  which  he  had  enjoyed  with  such  wan^ 
ton  thoughtlessness,  was  considered  by  many  as  an  occasion  of  triumph.  Those  who 
had  before  paid  then:  court  to  him  without  success,  soon  returned  the  contempt  which 
they  had  suffered ;  and  they  who  had  received  favours  from  him,  for  of  such  fiivours  as 
he  could  bestow  he  was  very  liberal,  did  not  always  remember  them.  So  much  more 
certain  are  the  effects  of  resentment  than  of  gratitude:  it  b  not  only  to  many  more 
pleasbg  to  recollect  those  faults  which  place  others  below  them,  than  those  virtues  by 
which  they  are  themselves  comparatively  depressed ;  but  it  is  likewiM  more  easy  to 
neglect,  than  to  recompense ;  and  (hongh  there  are  few  who  w9l  practise  a  laborious 
virtue,  there  will  never  be  vranting  multitudes  that  will  indulge  in  easy  vice. 

Savage,  however,  was  very  little  disturbed  at  the  marks  of  contempt  winch  his  ill- 
fortnne  brought  upon  Van^  from  those  whom  he  never  esteemed,  and  with  whom  hi 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


fCk  UFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

arftrcoiHideredhiiiMdfMlevdledbjaayadsnities:  ami  tbougli  it  wm  not  wttool 
«oiBe  nneasiiiess  that  1m  saw  some,  whose  Meodahip  ht  valued,  change  their  behaviaiir; 
he  jet  observed  their  coldness  without  much  emotioo,  considered  them  as  the  slaves 
^  fertane^  and  the  worshippers  of  prosperity^  and  was  more  inclined  to  despise  tiica^ 
turn  to  lament  himself* 

It  does  not  appear  that,  after  this  retam  of  his  wants,  be  found  madund  eqoaify 
fimmrable  to  him,  as  at  his  first  appearance  in  the  world.  His  stoiy,  thou^  m  nMj 
mU  less  mdancfady,  was  lest  afiecting,  because  it  was  no  longer  new ;  itthereforapco- 
CMadhiBi  no  new  friends;  and  those  that  had  formerly  relieved  him,  thought  they  aijght 
mam  eoasign  him  to  others.  He  was  now  IStewise  considered  by  many  rather  as  ctimi- 
M^,  than  as  unhappy;  for  the  friends  of  lord  Tyrcouiel,  and  of  his  mother,  wei«  so^ 
ficiently  industrious  to  publish  his  weaknesses,  which  were  indeed  very  numerous ;  and 
■olhing  was  forgotten,  that  might  make  him  either  hatefiil  or  ridtculous. 

It  cannot  but  be  imagined,  that  such  re|>resentations  of  his  faults  must  make  great 
Mtmbess  less  sensible  of  his  distress;  many,  who  had  only  an  opportunity  to  hear  one 
fart,  made  no  scruple  to  propagate  the  account  which  they  received ;  many  aasistad 
tfeir  circulation  from  malice  or  revenge;  and  perhaps  many  pretended  to  credit 
ttera,  that  they  mi^t  with  a  better  grace  withdraw  their  regard,  cm:  with^hold  their 
assirtance* 

Slivage,  however,  was  not  one  of  those  who  niiered  himself  to  be  injured  without 
fisistuuce,  nor  was  less  diligent  in  exposing  the  faults  of  lord  Tyrconnel ;  over  whom 
fteobtamed  at  least  this  advantage,  that  he  drove  him  first  to  the  practice  of  outrage  and 
iriolence;  for  he  was  so  much  provoked  by  the  wit  and  virulence  of  Savage,  that  he 
came  with  a  number  of  attendants^  that  did  no  honour  to  his  couiage,  to  beat  him  al 
m  cofiee-house.  But  it  ha(^)ened  that  he  had  leil  the*  place  a  few  minutes;  wmA  Us 
laidship  had,  without  danger,  the  pleasure  of  boasting  bow  he  would  have  treated  hiif^r 
Mr.  Savage  went  next  day  to  repay  his  visit  at  his  own  house;  but  was  |»evailcd  oo^ 
by  hb  doniestics»  to  retire  without  iasistiog  upon  seeing  him. 

Lord  Tyrconnel  was  accused  by  Mr.  Savage  of  some  actions^  whicfa  scareely  any 
provocadoBs  will  be  thought  sufficiait  to  justify;  such  as  seizing  what  he  had  ia  his 
lodgings*  and  other  instances  of  want<m  cruelty,  by  which  he  increased  the  distrass  of 
Savage,  without  any  advantage  to  hinasetf. 

These  mutual  accusations  were  retorted  on  both  skies,  for  many  years,  with  the  qt^ 
asost  d^ree  of  virulence  and  rage ;  and  time  seeaM  rather  to  augment  than  dimw^fh 
their  resentsient  That,the  anger  of  fifr.  Savage  should  be  kept  alive,  iz  not  strai^e^ 
hecause  he  felt  every  day  the  oonsequences  of  tiie  quarrel;  but  k  m^ght  leMooably 
bave  beenlioped,  that  lord  lyoonnel  might  have  rdented,  and  at  length  baie  foigol 
those  provocations,  vrhich»  however  they  migbl  have  once  inflamed  hiiq^  had  not  in 
leal^  much  hurt  him* 

The  spuit  of  Mr.  Savage  indeeed  never  suffered  faim  to  solkit  a  immriliatisw  ;  he 
letumed  reproach  for  reproach,  and  insult  for  insult;  his  superiority  of  wit  supplied 
the  disadvantages  of  his  fortune,  and  cnakkd  him  to  form  a  party,  and  pi^iadioe  great 
numbers  in  his  favour. 

But  thongh  this  n%bt  be  some  gratification  of  his  vanity,  it  affMded  very  little  relief 
to  his  neceisitiesi  and  he  was  veiy  fteqaently  redaosd  to  iftw^ftnan^  |ii^ri«|i^pi^  ^f 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


UFE  OF  SAVAGE.  1!^ 

mfSidk,  liQiwef«r,  he  never  made  eny  meaa  or  importmiate  compbufitB,  being  fbnaed 
ratHbr  to  bear  misery  f? ikh  fortitude^  than  enjoy  prosperity  with  moderation. 

He  now  tfaoa^bt  himself  again  «l  liberty  to  expose  the  cmelly  of  his  mother;  aal 
tfaerofoi^  I  believe,  abootthis  time,  published  Hie  Bastard,  a  poem  remarkable  A)c 
the  nvaeious  salties  of  Hwaght  in  the  beginniag»  where  he  makes  a  pompous  enumefir 
tioB  of  the  fomginary  adrai^ages  of  base  biith ;  and  the  pathetic  sentunents  at  &• 
end,  wbere  he  reooonts  the  real  calamities  which  he  suffered  by  the  crime  of  faia 
papents. 

The  vigour  and  spirit  of  the  verses,  the  pecutiar  circumstances  of  the  author,  die 
novelty  of  the  subject,  and  the  notoriety  of  the  story  to  which  the  allusions  are  mad^ 
INooored  this  performance  a  very  favourable  reception ;  great  numbers  were  imrna^ 
lefertdy  disperfied,  and  editions  were  multiplied  with  unusual  rapidity. 

One  cfrcnmstance  8(tlended  the  publicaitkm  which  Savage  used  to  relate  with  greal 
aalisfkclioB.  His  mother,  to  whom  the  poem  was  with  *^  4ue  reverence"  inscribed,  hi^ 
pened  then  to  be  at  Bath,  where  she  could  not  conveniently  retbe  fiom  oensure^ 
«ir  conceal  herself  from  observation;  and  no  sooner  did  the  reputation  of  the  poena 
^^in  to  spread,  than  she  heard  it  repeated  in  all  places  of  concourse ;  nor  couM  she 
enter  the  assembly-rooms,  or  cross  the  walks,  without  bemg  salnfeed  with  some  linea 
from  The  Bastard. 

This  was  perhaps  the  first  time  that  she  ever  discovered  a  sense  of  Aame,  and  mm 
this  occasion  the  power  of  wit  was  very  cons|ncttous ;  the  wretch  who  had  withoaft 
acntple  proclaimed  herself  an  adulteress,  and  who  had  first  endeavoured  to  starve  ber 
#on,  tfien  to  transport  him,  and  afterwards  to  hang  him,  was  not  able  to  bear  Hw 
*  tepresentation  of  her  own  conduct;  but  fled  from  reproach,  though  she  felt  no  pain 
from  guQt,  and  left  Balh  with  the  nlaiost  haste,  to  shelter  berself  among  the  crowda 
of  London. 

Tims  Savage  had  the  satisfiiction  of  finding,  that,  though  he  could  not  reform  his 
mother,  lie  could  punish  ber,  and  that  he  did  not  always  suffer  alone. 

The  pleasure  which  be  rpcoived  from  this  increase  of  his  poetical  reputation,  wia 
nafficient  for  some  time  to  overbalance  the  miseries  <^  want,  which  this  performanoe  . 
did  not  much  alleviate ;  ft>r  it  was  sold  for  a  very  trivial  sum  to  a  bookseller,  wImv 
tfaoogfa  the  success  was  so  uncommon  that  five  unpiessions  were  sold,  of  which  wmsiy 
were  undoubtedly  very  numerous,  had  not  generosily  sufficient  to  admit  the  unhappy 
writer,  to  any  part  of  the  profit. 

The  sale  of  tbn  poem  was  always  mentiotted  by  Savage  with  the  utmost  eievatiooof 
heart,  and  referred  to  by  him  as  an  incontestihle  proof  of  a  general  acknowledgmeiit 
of  his  abilities.  It  was  indeed  the  only  production  of  which  he  could  justly  boast  a 
feneral  receptmn. 

But  though  he  did  not  lose  the  opportunity  vrhich  suoeess  gave  him  of  setting  a  h^ 
tale  on  his  al>&hties,  but  pakl  due  deference  to  the  sufllrages  of  manUnd  when  tfaej 
were  given  in  his  favour,  he  dki  not  suffer  his  .esteem  of  b'msdf  to  depend  npoa 
oHien,  nor  found  way  thmg  sacred  m  the  voice  of  the  people  when  diey  were  indhied 
4o  oensore  Mm;  he  then  readily  showed  the  folly  of  expectmg  that  the  public  shoald 
|udge  right,  observed  how  slowfy  poetical  merit  had  oAsn  foited  its  wayhdo  the 
#add;  ha^^aotwlid  hii^withtba  apptaoft  9f  ncn  nf  judgnMit,  and  ivasamaa* 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


J70  LIFE  OP  SAVAGE. 

\?hat  disposed  to  exclude  all  fhose  from  the  character  of  men  of  jddgment  ^hd  di4 
not  applaud  him. 

But  he  was  at  other  times  more  favourable  to  mankind  than  to  think  them  bUnd  to 
the  beauties  of  his  works,  and  imputed  the  slowness  of  th^r  sale  to  other  causes :  other 
they  were  published  at  a  tune  wl^n  the  town  was  empty,  or  when  the  attentioo  of  the 
public  was  engrossed  by  some  struggle  in  the  parlmment,  or  some  other  object  of 
general  concern ;  or  they  were  by  the  neglect  of  the  publisher  nor  diligently  dispecsc<t 
or  by  his  avarice  not  advertised  with  sufficient  frequency.  Address,  or  mdustry,  or 
liberality,  was  always  wantmg ;  aud  the  blame  was  laid  rather  on  any.  person  than  the 

author. 

By  arts  like  these,  arts  which  every  man  practises  m  some  degree,  and  to  which 
too  much  of  the  little  tranquillity  of  hfe  b  to  be  ascribed.  Savage  was  always  able  to 
live  at  peace  with  himself.  Had  he  indeed  only  made  use  of  these  expedients  to  alle- 
viate the  loss  of  want  of  fortune  or  reputation,  or  any  other  advantages  which  it  b  not 
In  man's  power  to  bestow  upon  himself,  they  might  have  been  justly  mentioiied  as 
instances  of  a  philosophical  mind,  and  very  properly  proposed  to  the  mutation  of  mul- 
titudes, who,  for  want  of  diverting  their  imaginations  with  the  same  dexterity,  languish 
under  afflictions  which  might  be  easily  removed. 

It  were  doubtless  to  be  wished,  that  truth  and  reason  were  universally  prevalent ; 
that  every  thing  were  esteemed  accordmg  to  its  real  value ;  and  that  men  would  secure 
themselves  from  being  disappointed  in  their  endeavours  after  happiness,  by  f^dng  it 
only  in  vuiue,  whidi  is  always  to  be  obtained ;  but,  if  adventitious  and  foreign  pleasures 
must  be  pursued,  it  wobld  be  perhaps  of  some  benefit,  since  that  pursuit  must  frequent 
ly  be  fruitless,  if  the  practice  of  Savage  could  be  Uught,  that  foUy  might  be  an  ai^ 
dote  to  folly,  and  one  fallacy  be  obviated  by  another. 

But  the  danger  of  this  pleasing  mtoxication  must  not  be  concealed ;  nor  indeed  can 
any  one,  after  having  observed  the  life  of  Savage,  need  to  be  cautioned  agamst  it.  By 
imputing  none  of  his  miseries  to  himself,  he  continued  to  act  upon  the  same  princqriea^ 
and  to  follow  the  same  path ;  was  never  made  wiser  by  his  sufferings,  nor  preserved 
by  one  misfortune  from  falling  into  another.  He  proceeded  throu^out  his  life  t« 
tread  the  same  steps  on  the  same  circle ;  always  applauding  his  past  conduct,  or  at  least 
forgetting  it,  to  amuse  himself  with  phantoms  of  happmess,  which  were  dancing  before 
him ;  ^lid  willingly  turned  his  eyes  from  the  hght  of  reason,  when  it  would  have  dis- 
covered the  illusion,  and  shown  him,  what  he  never  wbhed  to  see,  hb  real  state. 

He  IS  even  accused,  after  having  lulled  hb  imagmation  with  those  ideal  opiates,  of 
having  tried  the  same  experiment  upon  hb  conscience ;  and,  having  accustomed  himself 
to  unpute  all  deviations  from  the  right  to  foreign  causes,  it  b  certain  that  he  was  upoa 
every  occasion  too  easily  reconciled  to  himself;  and  that  he  appeared  veiy  little  to  re- 
gret those  practices  whkh  had  impaired  hb  reputation.  The  reigmng  errour  of  hb  life 
was,  that  he  mistook  the  love  for  the  practice  of  virtue,  and  was  mdeed  not  so  much  a 
good  man,  as  the  friend  of  goodness. 

Thb  at  least  must  be  allowed  him,  that  he  always  preserved  a  strong  sense  of  the 
dignity,  the  beauty,  and  the  necessity  of  virtue;  and  that  he  never  contributed  deli* 
b^rately  to  spread  corruption  amongst  mankind.  Hb  actions,^  which  were  generally 
precipitate,  were  often  blaineable;  but  hb  writings,  behig  the  productions  of  study, 


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LIFE  OF  SAVAGE.  tfl 

mufoittrfy  tcfkded  to  the  exaUatton  of  the  mmd,  and  the'  pit)pagation  of  motality  and 
piety. 

These  writiogs  oiay  improve  mankind,  when  his  failbgs  shall  he  forgotten ;  and 
therefore  he  .must  be  tXNisidered,  upon  the  whole,  as  a  benefactor  to  the  world;  nor 
;  his  personal  example  do  any  hurt,  since  whoever  hears  of  his  faults  will  hear  of  the 
i  which  they  brought  upon  him,  and  which  would  deserve  less  pity,  had  not  his 
condign  been  such  as  made  his  £emlts  pardomiUe.  He  nuy  be  considered  as  a  child 
exposed  to  all  the  temptations  of  indigence,  at  an  age  when  resolution  was  not  yet 
strengthened  by  conviction,  nor  virtue  confirmed  by  habit;  a  drcumstante  which»  in 
fab  Bastard,  he  laments  in  a  very^  affecting  manner : 

-No  Mother's  ctre 
Shielded  my  infant  innocence  with  prayer; 
No  Father**  guardian  hand  my  youth  maintained. 
Called  forth  my  virtues,  or  from  vice  restrained. 

The  Bastard,  however  it  might  provoke  or  mortify  his  mother,  could  not  be  expected 
to  melt  her  to  compassion,  so  that  he  was  still  under  the  same  want  of  the  necessaries 
of  life ;  and  he  therefore  exerted  all  the  interest  which  his  wit,  or  his  birth,  or  his  mis- 
fortunes, could  procure,  to  obtain,  upon  the  death  of  Eusden,  the  place  of  poet  laurea^ 
and  prosecuted  his  application  with  so  much  diligence,  that  the  king  publicly  declared 
it  his  intention  to  bestow  it  upon  hbn ;  but  such  was  the  fate  of  Sav^e,  that  even  the 
king,  when  he  intended  his  advantage,  was  disappointed  in  his  schemes ;  for  the  lord 
chamberlain,  who  has  the  disposal  of  the  laurel,  as  one  of  the  appendages  of  his  ofHce^ 
either  did  not  know  the  king's  design,  or  did  not  approve  it,  or  thought  the  nomination 
of  the  laureat  an  encroachment  upon  his  rights,  >and  therefore  bestowed  the  laurel 
upon  CoUey  Cibber. 

Mr.  Savage,  thus  disappointed^  took  a  resolution  of  applying  to  the  queen»  tbat^ 
liaving  once  given  him  life,  she  would  enable  him  to  support  it,  and  therefore  published 
n  short  poem  on  her  birth  day,  to  which  he  gave  the  odd  title  of  Volunteer  Laureat 
The  event  of  this  essay  he  has  himself  related  in  the  following  letter,  which,  he  prefixed 
to  the  poem,  when  he  afterwards  reprinted  it  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine 
whence  I  have  copied  it  enture,  as  this  was  one  of  the  few  attempts  in  which  Mr.  Savage 
succeeded. 

"  Mr.  Urban, 

"  In  your  Magazine  for  February  you  published  the  last  Volunteer  Laureat,  written 
on  a  very  melancholy  occasion,  the  deatli  of  the  royal  patroness  of  arts  and  literature 
b  genera),  and  of  the  author  of  that  poem  in  particular ;  I  now  send  you  the  6rst  that 
Mr.  Savage  wrote  under  that  title. — ^This  gentleman,  notwithstanding  a  very  consi- 
derable mterest,  being,  on  the  death  of  Mr.  Eusden,  disappointed  of  the  laureat's 
place,  wrote  the  following  verses ;  which  were  no  sooner  pubhshed,  but  the  late  queen 
9ent  to  a  bookseller  for  them.  The  author  had  not  at  that  time  a  friend  either  to  get  him 
mtroduod,  or  his  poem  presented  at  court ;  yet,  such  was  the  unspeakable  goodness 
of  that  princess,  jhat,  notwithstanding  this  act  of  ceremony  was  wanting,  in  a  few  days 
after  pubfication,  Mr.  Savage  received  a  bank-bill  of  fifty  pounds,  and  a  gracious  mes- 
sage from  her  majesty,  by  the  lord  North  and  Guilford,  to  this  effect :  *  That  hejr 
jsajes^  was  highfy  pleased  with  the  verses;  that  she  took  particularly  kind  his  lines 


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fft  LIFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

there  rehting  to  the  kmg;  that  he  had  permission  to  write  annaaBy  oa  itt  stte  sok 
ject;  and  that  he  should  yearly  receive  the  like  present*  till  something  better  (wfaidi 
was  her  majesty^  intention)  could  be  done  for  him*'  After  this  he  was  p^niHed  to 
present  one  of  his  annual  poems  to  her  majesty,  h^d  the  honoor  of  Usang  her  htmip 
and  met  with  the  most  gracious  reception. 

Yours,  dec* 

Such  was  the  performance  \  and  sudi  its  reception;  a  reception,  wfaicb,  tbou^  by 
Ao  means  unkind,  was  yet  not  in  the  highest  degree  generous;  to  chain  dewn  die  ge- 
aius  of  a  writer  to  an  annual  panegyric,  showed  in  the  queen  too  much  derire  of  hear- 
ing her  own  praises,  and  a  greater  regard  to  herself  than  to  him  on  whom  her  boimty 
was  conferred.  It  was  a  kind  of  avaridons  generosity,  by  which  flattery  was  rather 
purchased  than  genius  rewarded. 

Mrs.  Oldfield  had  formerly  given  him  the  same  allowance  wiUi  much  more  heroic 
intention :  she  had  no  other  view  than  to  enable  him  to  prosecute  hjs  studies,  and  to 
aet  himself  above  the  want  of  assistance,  and  wks  contented  with  doing  good  without 
stipulating  for  encomiums. 

Mr.  Savage,  however,  was  not  at  liberty  to  make  excq>tions,  but  was  ravished  with 
Ihe  favours  which  he  had  received,  and  probably  yet  more  with  those  which  he  was 
promised:  he  considered  himself  now  as  a  jfovourite  of  the  queen,  and  did  not  doubt 
but  a  few  annual  poems  would  establrsh  him  in  some  profitable  employment 

He  therefore  assumed  the  title  of  Volunteer  Laureat,  not  without  some  reprehenskins 
from  Cibber»  who  informed  him,  that  the  title  of  Laureat  was  a  mark  of  honour  conferred 
by  the  king,  from  whom  all  honour  is  derived,  and  which  therefore  no  man  has  a  right  to 
bestow  upon  himself;  and  added,  that  he  might  with  equal  propriety  style  himself  a  volun- 
teer lord,  or  volimtaer  baronet  It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  remark  was  just ;  but  Savage 
did  not  think  any  title,  which  was  conferred  upon  Mr.  Gibber,  so  honourable  as  that  the 
usurpation  of  it  could  be  imputed  to  him  as  an  instance  of  veiy  exorbitant  vanity,  and 
therefore  contmued  to  write  under  the  same  title,  and  received  every  year  the  same  reward. 

He  did  not  appear  to  consider  these  encomiums  as  tests  of  his  abilities,  or  as  any 
tiling  more  than  annual  hints  to  the  queen  of  her  promise ;  or  acts  of  ceremony,  l>y 
the  performance  of  whkh  he  was  entitled  to  his  pension;  and  therefore  did  not  labour 
them  with  great  diligence,  or  print  more  than  fifty  each  year,  except  that  for  some  of 
ihe  last  years  he  regukrly  mserted  them  in  The  Ghentleman's  Magarine^  by  which  they 
were  dispersed  over  the  kingdom. 

Of  some  of  them  he  had  hunself  so  low  an  opinion  that  he  mteiided  to  omit  them  in 
the  collection  of  poems,  for  which  he  printed  proposals,  and  solicited  subscriptioos; 
nor  can  it  seem  strange,  that,  bebg  confined  to  the  same  subject,  he  should  he  at  some 
limes  indolent,  and  at  others  unsuccessful ;  that  he  should  sometimes  delay  a  disagree- 
able task  till  it  was  too  late  to  perform  it  well;  or  that  he  should  sometunes  repeat  the 

same  sentiment  on  the  same  occasion,  or  at  others  be  misled  by  an  attempt  after  DOMky 
to  forced  conceptions  and  fiir-fetched  images. 

He  wrote  indeed  with  a  double  intention,  which  supplied  bun  «Hth  some  varisty; 

for  hb  business  was,  to  praise  the  queen  for  the.fiivours  which  he  had  received,  and  to 

complain  to  her  of  the  delay  of  those  which  she  had  promised:  in  some  of  hii  wmu 

»  n»  poem  Is  i»sft9d  la  the  pi^MDt  coUectioa, 

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iJtPE  OP  SAVAGE.  m 

therefore,  gratitndeispredommatit,  and  in  some  discontent ;  in  some  he  represents  liim- 
j^as  happy  in  her  patronage ;  and,  in  others,  as  disconsolate  to  find  himself  neglected. 

Her  promise,  like  other  promises  made  to  this  unfortunate  man,  was  never  performed, 
though  he  took  sufficient  care  that  it  should  not  he  forgotten.  The  publication  of  his 
VoiuDleer  Laureat  jprocuied  him  no  other  reward  than  a  regular  remittance  of  iiAy 
pouads. 

He  was  not  so  depressed  by  hn  disappointments  as  to  neglect  any  opportunity  that 
was  offisred  of  advancing  his  mterest  When  the  princess  Anne  was  married,  he  wrote 
a  poem  ^  upoa  her  departore,  only,  as  he  declared,  "because  it  was  expected  from 
hmi,^aiid  he  was  not  willing  to  bar  his  own  prospects  by  any  appearance  of  neglect. 

He  never  mentioned  any  advantage  gained  by  this  poem,  or  any  regard  that  was  paid 
to  it';  and  therefore  it  is  likely  that  it  Wbs  considered  at  court  as  an  act  of  duty,  to 
which  be  was  d)liged  by  his  dependence,  and  which  it  was  therefore  not  necessary  to 
rtward  by  any  new  fiivonr:  or  perhaps  the  queen  really  intended  his  advancement, 
and  tberefore  thought  k  superfluous  to  lavish  presents  upon  a  man  whom  she  intended 
to  eataMiBh  for  life^ 

About  this  time  not  oidy  his  hopes  were  m  danger  of  being  frustrated,  but  his  pen- 
non likewise  of  being  obstructed,  by  an  accidental  calumny.  Tlie  writer  of  The 
Bttly  CeofSBt,  a  paper  then  published  under  the  direction  of  the  ministry,  charged 
him  with  a  crime,  which  though  not  very  great  in  itself,  would  have  been  remarkably 
iaivkiioiis  in  hun,  and  might  very  Justly  have  incensed  the  queen  against  him.  He  was 
accused  by  name  of  influenciag  elections  against  the  court,  by  appearing  at  the  head 
of  a  Tory  mob ;  nor  did  the  accuser  fail  to  aggravate  his  crime,  by  representing  it -as  the 
effect  of  the  most  atrocious  ingratitude,  and  a  kind  of  rebellion  against  the  queen,  who 
bad  fint  preserved bim  from  an  infamous  death,  and  afterwards  distinguished  him  by  her 
finfovr,  and  supported  him  by  her  charity.  The  charge,  as  it  was  open  and  confide  nt,  was 
Iftewiie  by  good  fortune  very  pertieular.  The  place  of  the  transaction  was  mentioned, 
md  tbe  whole  series  of  the  rioter's  conduct  related.  This  exactness  made  Mr.  Savage's 
vindicatM>n  easy ;  for  he  never  had  in  his  life  seen  the  place  which  was  declared  to  be 
tbe  seeue  of  te  wickedness,  nor  ever  had  been  present  m  any  town  when  its  represen- 
tatives vreM  cbeeeu.  This  answer  he  therefore  made  haste  to  publish,  with  all  the  cir- 
cumstaoces  necessary  to  make  it  credible ;  and  very  reasonably  demanded  that  the  ac- 
cusation should  be  retracted  in  the  same  paper,  that  he  might  no  longer  sufier  the 
imputation  of  sedition  and  ingratitude.  Thb  demand  was  likewise  pressed  by  him  in  a 
private  letter  to  the  authdr  of  the  paper,  who,  either  trustbg  to  the  protection  of  those 
whose  defence  he  had  undertaken,  or  having  entertained  some  personal  malice  against 
Mr.  Savage,  or  fearing  lest,  by  retiraedng  so  confidoit  an  assertion,  he  should  impair 
the  credit  of  his  paper,  refused  to  give  him  that  satisfaction. 

Mr.  Savage  therefore  thought  it  necessary  to  his  own  vindication,  to  prosecute  hhn 
io  the  kmg'i  bench ;  but  as  he  did  not  find  any  ill  effttcts  from  the  accusation,  having 
lufficioitly  cleared  his  innocence,  he  thought  any  fartlier  procedure  would  have  the 
uppearance  of  revenge ;  void  therefete  wilUngiy  dropped  it. 

He  saw  soon  aflecwirds  a  process  commenced  in  the  same  court  against  himself,  on  an 
infonnation  m  which  he  was  accused  of  writing  and  publishing  an  obscene  pamphlet. 

^  Priote4  itt  M*^  present  Collect  ion. 
you  XL  T 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


tt7^  LTFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

It  was  always  Mt^  Savage's  desire  to  be  dbtinguished ;  and,  wlien  any  c6uUoftny  ic^ 
came  popular,  he  never  wanted  some  reason  for  engagbg  in  it  with  great  ardour,  and- 
appearing  at  the  bead  of  the  party  which  he  had  chosen.  As  he  was  never  celdkat«d 
for  hb  prudence,  he  had  no  sooner  taken  hb  side,  and  informed  himsdf  of  the  chief 
topics  of  the  dbpute,  than  he  took  all  opportunities  of  essertuig  and  propi^attng  hk* 
principles,  without  much  regard  to  hb  own  interest,  or  any  other  visible  design  than' 
that  of  drawing  upon  himself  the  attention  of  mankind. 

The  dbpute  between  the  bishop  of  London  and  the  chancellor  b  well  known  to' have 
been  for  some  time  the  chief  topic  of  political  conversation ;  and  therefore  Mr.  Savage, 
in  pursuance  of  lib  character,  endeavoured  to  become  conspicuous  among  the  control 
vertists  with  which  every  coffee-house  was  filled  on  that  occasion.  He  was  an  indefiiH 
tigable  opposer  of  all  the  claims  of  ecclesiastical  power,  though  he  did  not  know  os^ 
what  they  were  founded ;  and  was  therefore  no  friend  to  the  bishop  of  London*  But 
he  had  another  reason  for  appearing  as  a  warm  advocate  for  Dr.  Rundle ;  for  he  was- 
the  friend  of  Mr.  Foster  and  Mr.  Thomson,  who  were  the  friends  of  Mr.  Savage- 
Thus  remote  was  his  interest  in  the  question,  which,  however,  as  he  imagined,  cod«- 
cemed  him  so  nearly,  that  it  was  not  sufficient  to  harangue  and  dispute,  but  neccaaarj 
likewise  to  write  upon  it. 

He  therefore  engaged  with  great  ardour  in  a  new  poem,  called  by  him.  The  Progteaf 
of  a  Divine;  m  which  he  conducb  a  profligate  priest,  by  all  the  gradations  of  wicked- 
ness, from  a  poor  curacy  in  the  country  to  the  highest  preferments  of  the  church ;  and 
describes,  with  that  humour  which  wa»  natural  to  him,  and  that  knowledge  whkh  was 
extended  to  all  the  diversities  of  human  lile,  hb  behaviour  in  every  station ;  and  insi- 
uuatesi  that  this  priest,  thus  accomplished^  found  at  last  a  patron  in  the  bishop  of  liondon. 
When  he  was  asked,  by  one  of  hb  friends,,  on  what  pretence  he  could  chaige  tbe 
bbhop  with  such  an  action;  he  had  no  more  to  say  than  that  he  had  only  inverted  the 
accusatiou ;  and  that  he  thought  it  reasonable  to  believe;  that  he  who  obstruded  the 
use  of  a  good  man  without  reason,  would  for  bad  reasons'  pnNnote  the  eiallation'  of  a 
villain. 

The  clergy  were  universally  provoked  by  (hb  sathe  ;•  and  Savage,  who,  as  was  hk 
constant  practice,  had  set  hb  name  to  hb  performance,  was  censured  in  The  WeeU/ 
Miscellany  ^  with  severity,  which  be  did  not  seem'  incMned  to  forget 

^  A  itiort  satire  was  likewise  published  in  the  same  paper,  io  whfcb  wore  the  feUofwing  limi : 
For  cruel  murder  doom*d  to  bempen  death,. 
Savage  by  royal  grace  prolonged  his  breatfi. 
Well  might  you  think  he  spent  his  future  yeais^ 
In  prayer,  and  fiuting,  and  repentant  tears. 
^But,  O  vain  hope !  —the  truly  Savage  criei^ 
**  Priests,  and  their  slavish  doctrinei,  I  de^itou. 

Shall  I , 

Who  by  free-thinking  to  free  action  fir'd, 

Itt  midnight  brawls  a  deathless  name  acquir*d. 

Now  stoop  to  learn  of  ecclesiastic  men  ?— 

—  No,  arm'd  with  rhyme,  at  priests  I  *U  talse  my  aim;' 

Though  prudence  bids  me  murder  but  their  fiiae.'* 

Weekly  MisoeUimy. 

An  answer  was  puMirfied'm  Thtf  OMfemabV  ttaga^me,  writteh  by  an  anknofwn  hand,,  firoai^  whkk 

Digitized  by  VjOOQ IC 


LIPE  OP  SAVAGE.  sH 

n    .    .  .      ■  • 

^ .  fiol  a  retUild  of  idvective  was  not  thought  a  sufficient  puuishmept.    The  court  of 

king's  bench  was  therefore  mdved  against  him ;.  and  he  was  obliged  to  return  an  answer 
t5  a  cbaiige  of  obscenity.  It  was  urged  in  his  defence,  that  obscenity  was  criminal 
wiieQ .  it  was  intended  to  promote  the  practice  of  vice ;  but  that  Mr.  Savage  had  only 
wtrodooed  obscenie  ideas,  with  the  view  of  exposing  them  to  detestation,  and  of  amend- 
ing the  age  by  showing  the  deformity  of  wickedness.  This  plea  was  admitted ;  and 
^  Philip  Yorke,  who  then  presided  in  that  court,  dismissed  the  information  with  en- 
eomionis  upon  the  purity  and  excellence  of  Mr.  Savage  s  writings.  The  prosecution,, 
however,  answered  in  scjwe  measure  the  purpose  of  those  by  whom  it  was  set  on  foot ; 
for  Mr.  Savage  was  so  far  intimidated  by  it,  that,  when  the  edition  of  his  poem  was 
sold,  h^  did;  ifpt  venture  to  reprint  jt ;  so  that  it  was  in  a  short  time  forgotten,  or  for- 
gotten by  all  but  those  whom  it  ofi^ded, 

It  is  said,  that  some  endeavours  were  used  to  incense  the  queen  against  him :  but  he 
found  advocates  to  obviate  at  least  part  of  their  effect ;  for,  though  he  was  never  ac(- 
vmced,  he  still  continued  to  receive  his  pension^ 

This  poem  drew  more  infamy  upon  him  than  any  incident  of  his  fife ;  and,  as  his 
conduct  cannot  be  vindicated,  it  u  proper  to  secure  his  memory  from  reproach,  by  in- 
forming those  whom  he  made  bis  enemies,  that  he  never  intendied  to  repeat  the  pro- 
vocatioD;  and  that,  though  whenever  he  thought  he  had  ^y  reason  to  complain  of  tlie 
^ergy,  he  used  to  threaten  them  with  a  new  edition  of  The  Progress  of  a  Divine,  il 
was  hit  calm  and  settled  resolution  to  suppress  it  for  ever; 


te  foUoviog  lineB  are  selficted : 

Trai»ftirin*d  by  thoughtless  rag^  and  midnight 
From  malice  free,'  and  pushed  without  design  / 
In  equal  brawl  if  Savage  lung'd  a  thrust. 
And  brought  the  youth  a  yictim  to  the  dustf 
So  strong  the  hand  of  accident  appears,' 
The  royal  band  from  guOt  and  vengeance  clears^ 

Instead  of  wasting  '  all  thy  future  yeara,^ 
Savage,  in  prayer  and  vain  repentant  tears,' 
Exert  thy  pen  to  mend  a  vicious  age. 
To  curb  the  priest,  and  sink  his  high-church  rage ; 
To  show  what  frauds  the  holy  vestments  hide. 
The  nests  of  avarice,  lust,  and  pedant  pride : 
Then  change  the  scene,  let  merit  brightly  ^ne, 
And  round  the  patriot  twist  the  wreath  divine  ; 
The  heav'nly  guide  deliver  down  to  ftime; 
in  well-tun'd  lays  transmit  a  Foster's  name  { 
Touch  ev*ry  passion  with  harmonious  art, 
JBaalt  the  genius,  and  correct  the  heait. 
thxiB  future  tones  shall  royal  grace  extol/ 
Thus  polish^  lines  thy  present  fiune  enrol; 

—But  grant 

Maliciously  that  Savage  plung'd  the  st^ 


And  made  the  youth  its  shhung  vengeance  fed  ^ 
My  soul  abhors  tbe  act,  the  man  detests, 
a«t  lODrt  the  bigotry  in  priestly  breasts. 

Qentleman's  itmguioB,  May  1793.    Dr.  J.: 

y  2 


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irtf  LIFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

He  once  intended  to  have  made  a  better  reparation  f<ir  the  foDy  or  injnstio^ 
which  he  might  be  charged,  by  writing  another  poem  ddled  The  Progress  of  a  Free- 
thinker, whom  he  intended  to  lead  through  all  the  stages  of  vice  and  folfy,  to  convcit 
bim  from  virtue  to  wickedness,  and  from  religion  to  infidelity,  by  all  the  modish  sopUs* 
try  used  for  that  purpose ;  and  at  Ikst  to  dbmiss  him  by  his  own  band  into  the  eAtf 
world. 

That  he  did  not  execute  this  design  is  a  real  loss  to  mankind ;  for  he  was  too  mA 
acquainted  with  all  the  scenes  of  debauchery  to  have  failed  in  hb  representatiosy  of 
Ihem,  and  too  zealous  for  virtue  not  to  have  represented  them  in  such  a  mamer  ai 
should  expose  them  either  to  ridicule  or  detestation. 

But  this  plan  was,  like  others,  formed  and)laid  aside,  till  the  vigour  of  hb  inagina* 
lion  was  sptn\,  and  the  effervescence  of  invention  had  subsided;  but  soon  gave  wayt9 
tome  other  design,  whkh  pleased  by  its  novelty  for  a  while,  and  then  was  neglected  llkt 
the  former. 

He  was  still  m  his  usual  exigencies,  havmg  no  certain  suf^rt  but  the  penskMi  tOmih 
ed  him  by  the  queen,  which,  though  it  might  have  kept  an  exact  economist  from  want, 
was  very  far  from  being  sufficient  for  Mr.  Savage,  who  had  never  been  aocmtooied  to 
dismiss  any  of  his  appetites  without  the  gratification  which  they  s<^icited,  and  whom 
nothing  but  want  of  money  withheld  from  partaking  of  every  pleasQre  thai  fdl  withni 
bis  view. 

His  conduct  with  regard  to  his  pension  was  very  particular.  No  sooner  bad  he 
changed  the  bill,  than  he  vanished  from  the  sight  of  all  his  acquaintance,  and  lay  for 
some  time  out  of  the  reach  of  all  the  inqmries  that  friendship  or  curiosity  covld  make 
after  him.  At  length  he  appeared  again,  peimyless  as  before^  but  never  informed  even 
those  whom  he  seemed  to  regard  most,  where  he  had  been;  nor  was  his  retreat  ever 
discovered. 

This  was  his  constant  practice  during  the  «4iole  tinie  that  he  received  the  pension  fi^MA 
the  queen:  he  regularly  disappeared  and  returaed.  He,  mdeed,  affirmed  that  he  re- 
tired to  study,  and  that  the  money  supported  him  in  sirfitttde  for  many  months;  but 
bis  friends  dedared,  that  the  short  titde  in  which  it  was  spent  sufficiently  coafotcd  his 
own  account  of  his  conduct* 

His  politeness  and  his  wit  sliU  raised  bim  friends,  who  were  dcsirons  of  setting  him 
at  length  free  from  that  indigence  by  wUch  he  had  been  hitherto  oppressed  ;  and 
therefore  solicited  sir  Robert  Walpole  hi  Ms  ftvour  with  so  much  dumestness,  that 
they  obtained  a  promise  of  the  next  place  that  should  become  vacant,  not  exceeding 
two  hundred  pounds  a  year.  This  promise  was  made  with  an  uncommon  dedaia- 
tion,  **  that  it  was  not  the  promise  of  a  minister  to  a  petitioner,  but  of  a  friend  to  hb 
friend." 

Mr.  Savage  now  concluded  himselfset  at  vase  for  evef^aad,  as  he  observes  in  a  poem 
veritten  on  that  incident  of  hb  life,  tmsfted  and  was  trusted ;  but  sooa  found  that  hb 
confidence  was  ill-grounded,  and  thb  friendly  promise  Ivas  n<^  inviohible*  He  apent 
a  long  time  in  sohdtations,  and  at  last  despaired  and  desisted. 

He  did  not  indeed  deny  that  be  had  give*  the  minbter  4ome  reason  to  believe  that 
he  should  not  strengthen  hb  own  interest  by  advafidng  hni,  for  he  liad  taken  care  to 
diidngi)bh  bjonadf  in  cofte-bouses  as  an  advocate  for  the  ministry  of  the  last  yean  of 


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UFE  OF  SAVAGE.  S77 

i  Aiiiie»  »d  was  always  ready  to  justify  the  conduct*  and  exalt  the  character,  of 
lord  Boliogbroke,  whom  he  mentioos  with  great  regard  in  an  Epistle  upon  Authors, 
iMttb  he  wrote  about  that  timey  but  was  too  wise  to  publish,  and  of  which  only  sdme 
fagments  have  i^peared,  inserted  by  him  in  the  Magazine  aAer  his  retirement 

To  despaur  was  not,  however,  the  character  of  Savage;  when  one  patronage  failed^ 
lie  had  recourse  to  another.  The  prince  was  now  extremely  popular,  and  had  very 
liberally  rewarded  the  merit  of  some  writers  whom  Mr.  Savage  did  not  think  superior 
to  himielf ;  aod  therefore  he  resolved  to  address  a  poem  to  him. 

For  this  purpose  he  made  choice  of  a  subject  which  could  regard  only  persons  of  \b6 
li^faest  rank  and  greatest  affluence,  and  which  was  therefore  proper  for  a  poem  intended 
to  procure  the  patronage  of  a  prince ;  and,  having  retired  tor  some  time  to  Richmond, 
that  he  m%ht  prosecute  his  design  in  AiU  tranquillity,  without  the  temptations  of  pleasure, 
or  the  solicitations  of  creditors*  by  which  his  meditations  were  in  equal  danger  of  being 
^lliscoocerted,  he  produced  a  poem  On  Public  S(nrit,  with  regard  to  Public  Works.    ^ 

The  plan  of  this  poem  is  very  extensive,  and  comprises  a  multitude  of  topicks,  each 
4>f  which  might  furnish  matter  sufficient  for  a  long  performance,  and  of  which  some 
have  already  employed  more  eminent  writers ;  but,  as  he  was  perhaps  not  fully  ac- 
quainted with  the  whole  extent  of  his  own  design,  and  was  writing  to  obtam  a  supply 
of  wants  ti^o  pressing  to  admit  of  long  or  accurate  mquiries,  he  passes  negligently 
over  many  public  works*  which,  even  in  his  own  opinion,  deserved  to  be  more  elabo* 
jslely  treated. 

But,  though  be  may  sometimes  disappoint  his  reader  by  transient  touches  upon  theso 
aobjects,  which  have  ollen  been  considered,  and  therefore  naturally  raise  expectations^ 
be  must  be  allowed  amply  to  compensate  his  omissions,  by  expatiating,  in  the  conclusion 
of  his  work,  upon  a  kind  a(  beneficence  not  yet  celebrated  by  any  eminent  poet,  though 
jt  now  ai^pears  more  susceptible  of  embellishments,  more  adapted  to  exalt  the  ideas, 
and  afiect  the  passions,  than  many  of  those  which  have  hitherto  been  thought  most 
worthy  of  the  ornaments  of  verse.    The  settlement  of  colonies  in  uninhabited  coun- 
tries, the  estabUshment  of  those  in  security  whose  misfortunes  have  made  their  own 
country  no  longer  pleasmg  or  safe,  the  acquisition  of  property  without  injury  to  any, 
the  appropriation  of  the  waste  and  luxuriant  bounties  of  nature,  and  the  enjoyment  of 
those  gifts  which  Heaven  has  scattered  upon  regions  uncultivated  and  unoccupied,  cannot 
be  considered  without  giving  rise  to  a  great  number  of  pleasing  ideas,  and  bewildering 
the  imagination  in  delightful  prospects;  and  therefore,  whatever  speculations  they  may 
produce  in  those  who  have  confined  tliemselves  to  political  studies,  naturally  fixed  the 
attention,  and  excited  the  applause,  of  a  poet    The  politician,  when  he  considers  men 
driven  into  other  countries  for  shelter,  and  obliged  to  retire  to  forests  and  deserts,  and 
pass  their  lives,  and  fix  their  posterity,  in  the  remotest  comers  of  the  worid,  to  avoid 
those  hardships  whfeh  they  suffer  or  fear  in  their  native  place,  may  very  properiy  m« 
quire,  why  the  legislature  does  not  provide  a  remedy  for  these  miseries,  rather  than 
encourage  an  escape  from  them.    He  may  conclude  that  the  flight  of  every  honest  man 
is  a  loss  to  the  community;  that  those  who  are  unhappy  without  guilt  ought  to  be  re- 
lieved; and  the  life  which  is  overburthened  by  accidental  cahimities  set  at  ease  by  the 
care  of  the  public ;  and  that  those  who  have  by  misconduct  forfeited  their  claim  to 
frvour,  ought  rather.io  be  made  useful  to  the  society  which  they  have  ii\juied,  than  be 


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2f  S  LIFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

driven  from  it.  Bui  the  poet  b  employed  in  a  more  pleasing  undertaking  than  UniI  of 
proposing  laws  which,  however  just  or  expedient,  will  never  be  made ;  or  endeavouTin^ 
to  reduce  to  rational  schemes  of  government  societies  which  were  {brmed  l^  ehimrey 
and  are  conducted  by  the  private  passions  of  those  who  preside  in  them.  He  guides 
the  unhappy  fugitive,  from  want  and  persecution,  to  plenty,  quiet,  and  security,  and 
scats  him  in  scenes  of  peaceful  solitude,  and  undisturbed  repqse. 

Savage  has  not  forgotten,  amidst  the  pleasing  sentiments  which  this  prospect  of  re- 
tirement suggested  to  him,  to  censure  those  crimes  which  have  been  generally  committed 
l>y  the  discoverers  of  new  regions,  and  to  expose  the  enormous  wickedness  of  pnaking 
war  upon  barbarous  nations  t>ecause  they  cannot  resist,  and  of  invading  countries 
because  they  are  fruitful ;  of  extending  navigation  only  to  propagate  vice,  and  of  visit- 
iDg  dbtant  lands  only  to  lay  them  waste.  He  has  asserted  the  natural  equality  of 
mankind,  and  endeavoured  to  suppress  that  prid^i  which  mclines  men  to  imagine  thst 
right  is  the  consequence  of  power. 

His  description  of  the  various  miseries  which  ibroe  men  to  seek  for  refuge  m  distaot 
countries,  affords  auotlier  instance  of  his  proficiency  in  the  important  and  extensive 
study  of  human  life ;  'and  the  tenderness  wilh  which  he  recount^  them,  another  proof 
of  his  humanity  and  benevolence.  ^         . 

It  is  observable  that  the  close  of  this  poem  discovers  a  change  which  experience  bad 
made  in  Mr.  Savage's  opinions.  In  a  poem  written  by  him  io  his  youth,  and  published 
in  his  Miscellanies,  he  declares  his  contempt  of  the  contracted  views  and  narrow  pros- 
pects  ot  the  middle  state  of  life,  and  declares  his  resolution  either  tp  tower  like  the  cedar, 
or  be  trampled  like  the  shrub ;  but  in  this  poem,  though  fufdressed  to  a  prince,  ht 
mentions  this  state  of' lift;  as  coroprisiug  those  who  ought  most  to  attract  reward,  those 
who  merit  most  the  confidence  of  power  and  the  familiarity  of  greatness ;  and,  accklen- 
tally  mentioning  this  passage  to  one  of  his  friends,  declared,  that  in  his  opmion  all  the 
virtue  of  mankind  was  comprehended  in  that  state. 

In  describing  villas  and  gardens,  he  did  not  omit  to  condemn  that  absurd  custom 
which  prevails  among  the  English,  of  permitting  servants  to  receive  money  from  straoh 
gcrs  for  the  entertainment  that  they  receive,  and  therefore  inserted  in  bis  ppem  thes^ 
lines: 

But  what  the  flow'rinjr  pride  of  gardens  rart. 

However  royal,  or  however  fair, 

ff  gates,  which  to  acc«w  should  still  give  way, 

ppe  but,  likf  Peter's  pnradise,  for  pay; 

If  pcrquisited  varlets  frequent  stand, 

And  each  new  walk  must  a  new  tax  demand; 

What  foreign  eye  but  with  contempt  surveys  ?  * 

What  Muse  shiill  6rom  oblivipn  snatch  thefr  praise^ 

But  before  the  publication  of  his  performance  he  recollected,  that  the  queen  allowed 
her  garden  and  cave  at  Richmond  to  be  shown  for  money ;  and  that  die  so  openly 
countenanced  the  practice,  that  she  had  bestowed  the  privilege  of  showing  them  as  a 
place  of  profit  on  a  man,  whose  merit  she  valued  herself  upon  rewarduig,  though  she  gave 
him  only  the  liberty  of  disgracing  his  country. 

He  tlierefore  thought,  with  more  prudence  than  was  of\en  exerted  by  him,  that  the 
publication  of  these  lines  might  be  officiously  represented  a^  an  msult  upon  the  qOc|m, 


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UFE  OF  SAVAGE.  279 

lowborn  lie  owed  bit  life  and  hb  subsistence ;  and  that  tbe  propriety  of  bis  observation 
would  be  no  security  .against  the  censures  whicb  tbe  unseasonableness  of  it  might 
draw  upon  him ;  be  therefore  suppressed  tbe  passage  in  the  first  edition,  but  after  the 
queen's  death  thought  tbe  same  caution  no  longer  necessary,  and  restored  it  to  the 
proper  place. 

Tbe  poem  was,  therefore,  published  without  any  political  faults,  and  inscribed  to  the 
prince;  but  Mr.  Savage,  having  no  friend  upon  whom  he  could  prevail  to  present  it  to 
lum,  bad  no  other  method  of  attracting  his  observation  than  the  publication  of  frequent 
advertisements,  and  therefore  received  no  reward  from  bb  patron,  however  generous  on 
other  occasions. 

Tbb  disappointment  he  never  mentioned  without  indignation,  being  by  some  means 
or  other  confident  that  the  priqce  was  not  ignorant  of  hb  address  to  bun ;  and  insmu- 
ated,  that  if  any  advances  in  popularity  could  have  been  made  by  dbtinguisbing  hira« 
he  bad  not  written  ivithout  notice,  or  without  reward. 

He  was  once  hiclined  to  have  presented  bis  poem. in  person,  and  sent  to  tbe  printer 
for  a  copy  with  that  design ;  but  either  hb  opinion  changed,  or  hb  resolution  deserted 
him,  and  be  continued  to  resent  neglect  without  attempting  to  force  himself  into 
regard. 

Nor  was  tbe  public  much  more  favourable  than  hb  patron ;  for  only  seventy-two 
were  sold,  though  the  performance  was  much  commended  by  some  whose  judgment 
ID  that  kind  of  writing  is  generally  allowed.  But  Savage  easily  reconciled  himself  to 
mankind,  without  imputing  any  defect  to  hb  work,  by  observing  that  his  poem  was 
unluckOy  publbhed  two  days  after  the  prorogation  of  the  parliament,  and  by  conse- 
quence at  a  time  when  all  those  who  could  be  expected  to  regard  it  were  in  the  hurry 
of  preparing  for  their  departure,  or  engaged  in  taking  leave  of  others  upon  tbeir  dis- 
inission  from  public  affairs. 

It  must  be  however  allowed,  in  justification  of  the  public,  that  tlib  performance  b 
pot  th^  most  excellent  of  Mr.  Savage's  works ;  and  that,  though  it  cannot  be  denied  to 
^ntain  many  striking  sentiments,  majestic  lines,  and  just  observations,  it  is  in  general 
not  sufficiently  polbhed  in  tbe  language,  or  enlivened  in  the  imagery,  or  digested  in  the ' 
pbm. 

Thus  hb  poem  contributed  nothing  to  the  alleviation  of  hb  poverty,  which  was  such 
as  very  few  could  have  supported  with  equal  patience;  but  to  which,  it  must  likewise 
be  confessed,  that  few  would  have  been  exposed  who  received  punctually  fifty  pounds 
9  year ;  a  salary  which,  though  by  no  means  equal  to  the  demands  of  vanity  and  luxury* 
b  yet  found  suflicient  to  support  f^ilies  ^bove  w^ntj^  and  was  undoubtedly  more  than 
the  necessities  of  life  reqqire* 

Bqt  np  sooper  bad  he  received  hb  pension,  than  be  withdrew  to  hb  darlmg  privacy, 
^m  which  he  returned  in  a  short  time  to  his  former  dbtress,  and  for  some  part  of  the 
year  generally  lived  by  chance,  eating  only  when  be  was  mvited  to  the  tables  of  hb  ac- 
quaintances, frofu  which  the  meanness  of  hb  dress  often  excluded  him,  when  the  po- 
]itene|9  and  variety  of  bb  conversation  would  have  been  thought  a  sufficient  recompense 
for  bb  entertainment 

I^e  lodged  as  much  by  accident  as  be  dmed,  and  passed  the  night  sometimes  m  mean 
bouses»  which  are  set  open  at  night  to  any  casual  wanderers,  sometimes  in  ceUars 


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^0  LIFE  OP  SAVAGE. 

among  the  riot  and  filth  of  the  meanest  and  most  profligate  of  the  tabUe ;  and  \ 
times,  when  he  had  not  iuoney  to  support  even  the  expenses  of  these  receptacles,  walked 
about  the  streets  till  he  was  weary,  and  lay  down  in  the  summer  upon  a  bulk,  or  m 
tlie  winter,  with -his  associates  in  poverty,  among  the  ashes  of  a  glass-house. 

In  this  manner  were  passed  those  days  and  those  nights  which  nature  bad  eaaUed 
him  to  have  employed  in  elevated  speculations,  useful  studies,  or  pleasing  coovenalkm. 
On  a  bulk,  in  a  cellar^  or  in  a  glass-house,  among  thieves  and  b^gars,  was  to  be 
found  the  author  of  The  Wanderer,  the  man  of  exalted  sentiments,  extensive  views,  and 
curious  observations ;  the  man  whose  remarks  on  life  might  have  assisted  the  statesman, 
whose  ideas  of  virtue  might  Iwive  enlightened  the  moralist,  whose  eloquence  might  b«?e 
iufluenced  senates,  and  whose  delicacy  might  have  polished  courts. 

It  cannot  but  be  imagined  that  such  necessities  might  sometimes  force  him  ^pcm 
disreputable  practices;  and  it  is  probable  that  these  lines  in  The  Wanderer  weie  o^ 
casioned  by  his  reflections  on  his  own  conduct : 

Tliough  misery  leads  to  happiness,  and  trath. 

Unequal  to  the  load  this  languid  yoatb, 

(O,  let  none  censure,  if,  untried  by  grief. 

If,  amidst  woe,  untempted  by  relief) 

He  stoop'd  reluctant  to  low  arts  of  shame. 

Which  then,  ev»n  then,  he  scom'd,  and  blash'd  to  name. 

Whoever  was  acquainted  with  him  was  certain  to  be  solicited  for  small  sums,  whicb 
the  fLcquency  of  the  request  made  in  time  considerable ;  and  he  was  therefore  quickly 
si  J  mined  by  those  who  were  become  familiar  enough  to  be  trusted  with  his  necessities; 
but  his  rauibruig  niauuer  of  life,  and  constant  appearance  at  houses  of  public  resoit, 
jlways  procured  him  a  new  succession  of  friends,  whose  kindness  had  not  been  ei- 
liaustod  by  repealed  requests ;  so  that  he  was  seldom  absolutely  without  resources, 
but  had  in  his  uliuost  exigencies  this  comfort,  that  he  always  imagined  hknself  sm:€  of 

i^pcr.ly  10  lief. 

It  w  ;is  o;)strved,  that  he  always  asked  favours  of  this  kind  without  the  least  subrais- 
si  >ii  or  ;i)>p.ucnl  consciousness  of  dependence,  and  that  he  did  not  seehn  to  look  upon 
a  c(>  tj'liai'.ie  wiih  his  request  as  an  obligation  that  deserved  any  extraordinary  acknow- 
lc(i:;)i)ci:i.s;  but  a  refusal  was  resented  by  him  as  an  affront,  or  complained  of  as  an 
h\\u\\ ;  nor  did  he  readily  reconcile  himself  to  those  who  either  denied  to  lend,  or 
^ave  him  aHenvards  any  intimation  that  they  expected  to  be  repaid. 

He  was  sometimes  so  far  compassionated  by  those  who  knew  both  hb  merit  and 
disticsses,  that  they  received  Iiim  into  their  families,  but  they  soon  discovered  him  to 
be  a  very  incommodious  inmate;  for,  being  always  accustomed  to  an  irregular  man- 
ner of  Hfe,  he  could  not  confine  himself  to  any  stated  hours,  or  pay  any  regard  to 
the  rules  of  a  family,  but  would  prolong  his  conversation  till  midnight,  without  consi- 
dering that  busiuess  might  require  his  friend^s  application  in  the  morning ;  and,  when 
he  had  persuaded  himself  to  retire  to  bed,  was  not  without  equal  difficulty  caHed  up 
to  dinner ;  it  was  therefore  impossible  to  pay  him  any  distinction  without  the  ente 
subversion  of  all  economy,  a  kind  of  establbh  mentwhich,  wherever  he  went,  im 
always  appeared  ambitious  to  overthrow. 

It  must,  therefore,  be  acknowledged,  in  justification  of  mankind,  that  it  was  not 
always  by  the  negligence  or  coldness  of  bis  friends  that  Savage  was  distttessedt  but  bc^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC  , 


LIFE  OF  SAVAGE.  S81 

!  it  was  b  Teriity  very  difficult  to  preserve  him  long  in  a  stute  of  ease*  To  sup* 
ply  him  with  money  was  a  hopeless  attempt ;  for  no  sooner  did  he  see  himself  master 
of  a  smir  sufficient  to  set  him  free  from  care  for  a  day»  than  he  became  profuse  and 
hixurioiis.  When  once  he  had  entered  a  tavern,  or  engaged  in  a  scheme  of  pleasure; 
he  never  retired  till  want  o^  money. obl%ed  him  to  some  new  expedient.  If  he  w.a« 
eBtertaioed  in  a  family,  nothing  was  any  longer  to  be  regarded  there  but  amusements 
mad  j<^ty;  wherever  Savage  entered,  he  immediately  expected  that  order  and  busi- 
mas  sbouM  fly  before  him,  that  all  should  thenceforward  be  left  to  haaard^  and  that 
no  doll  priadple  of  domestic  management  should  be  opposed  to  his  incUnalion,  or  in*> 
trade  upon  his  gaiety. 

His  distresses,  however  afflictive,  never  dc^jected  him ;  in  his  lowest  state  he  wanted 
not  spirit  to  assert  the  natural  dignity  of  wit,  and  was  always  ready  to  repress  that  in- 
solence which  the  superiority  of  fortune  incited,  and  to  tranqple  on  that  reputation 
which  rose  upon  any  other  basis  than  that  of  merit:  he  never  admitted  any  gross 
Jiunilkinties,  or  submitted  tp  be  treated  otherwise  than  as  an  oquaL  Once,  when  be 
was  without  lodging,  meat,  or  clothes,  one  of  his  friends,  a  man  indeed  not  remarkable 
Smt  moderation  in  his  prosperity,  left  a  message,  that  he  desired  to  see  him  about  nine 
in  the  morai^.  Savage  knew  that  his  intention  was  to  assist  him;  but  was  very  much 
disgusted  that  he  should  presume  to  prescribe  the  hour  of  his  attendance,  and,  I  be- 
lieve, reused  to  visit  him,  and  rejected  Ins  kindness. 

The  same  iavindble  teaq>er,  whether  firmness  or  obstinacy,  appeared  m  his  conduct 
to  the  tord  Tyrconnel,  from  whom  he  very  fkequently  demanded,  that  the  allowance 
which  was  once  paid  him  should  be  restored ;  but  with  whom  he  never  i^ipear^  to 
entertain  for  a  moment  the  thought  of  solicithig  a  reconciliation,  and  whom  he  treated 
at  once  with  all  the  haughtiness  of  superiority,  and  all  the  bitterness  of  resentment. 
He  wrote  to  bin,  not  in  a  style  of  supplication  or  respect,  but  of  reproach,  menace, 
and  contempt ;  and  appeared  determined,  if  he  ever  regained  his  allowanoe,  to  hold  it 
^only  by  the  fight  of  conquest. 

As  many  more  can  discover  that  a  man  is  ridier  than  that  he  is  wiser  than  ibem* 
selves^  si^riority  ai  understanding  is  not  so  readily  acknowledged  as  that  of  fbrtuoe; 
nor  is  that  haughtiness  which  the  consciousness  of  great  abilities  incites  borne  vrith  the 
sanae  submissioa  as  the  tyranny  of  affluence ;  and  therefore  Savage,  by  asserting  his 
claim  to  deference  and  regard,  aud  by  treating  those  with  contempt  whom  better  for- 
tune animatfid  to  rebel  against  him,  did  not  fieul  to  raise  a  great  number  of  enemies  in 
the  different  classes  of  mankind.  Those  who  thought  themselves  raised  above  him  by 
the  advantages  of  riches,  hated  him  because  they  found  no  protection  from  the  petu- 
huMe  of  his  wit  Those  who  were  esteemed  for  their  writings  feared  him  as  a  critic, 
and  maligned  him  as  a  rival;  and  ahnost  all  the  smaller  wits  were  his  professed 
enemies. 

Among  these  McMfller  so  far  indulged  his  resentment  as  to  introduce  him  m  a 
larce,  and  direct  him  to  be  personated  on  the  stage,  m  a  dress  like  tfai^  wfakh  he 
then  wore;  a  mean  insult,  whkh  only  insinuated  that  Savage  had  but  one  coat,  and 
which  was  therefore  despised  by  him  rather  than  resented ;  for,  though  be  wrote  a 
konpooD  against  Miller,  he  never  printed  it:  and  as  no  other  person  ought  to  prose- 
«ate  that  revenge  fipon  which  the  person  who  was  iiyurrd  desisledylsfaallBotprescwie 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


Ut  UFE  OP  SAVAGE. 

what  Mr.  Savage  suppressed ;   of  which  the  publication  would  mdeed  have  been  • 
ponishnient  too  severe  for  so  impotent  an  assault. 

The  great  hardships  of  poverty  were  to  Savage  not  the  want  of  lodging  or  of  food, 
but  Uie  neglect  and  contempt  which  it  drew  upon  him.  He  complained  that,  as  his 
•ffiurs  grew  desperate,  he  found  his  reputation  for  capacity  visibly  decUne ;  that  hb 
opinion  in  questions  of  criticism  was  no  longer  regarded,  when  his  coat  was  out  of 
"fiuhion ;  and  that  tho^  who,  in  the  interval  of  his  prosperit}',  were  always  encourag* 
ing  bun  to  great  undertakings  by  encomiums  on  his  genius  and  assurances  of  sueceti» 
now  received  any  mention  of  his  designs  with  coldness,  thought  that  the.  subjects  on 
which  he  proposed  to  write  were  very  difficult,  and  were  ready  to  inform  him,  that 
the  event  of  a  poem  was  uncertain,  that  an  author  ought  to  employ  much  time  m 
the  consideration  of  his  plan,  and  not  presume  to  sit  down  to  write  in  confidence  of  a 
few  cursory  ideas,  and  a  superficial  knowledge;  difficulties  were  started  on  all  sides,  and 
he  was  no  longer  qualified  for  any  performance  but  The  Volunteer  Laureat. 

Yet  even  this  kind  of  contempt  never  depressed  him ;  for  he  always  preserved  a 
steady  confidence  in  his  6wn  capacity,  and  believed  nothing  above  his  reach  which  he 
should  at  any  time  earnestly  endeavour  to  attain.  He  formed  schemes  of  the  same 
kind  with  regard  to  knowledge  and  to  fortune,  and  flattered  himself  with  advances  to 
be  made  in  science,  as  with  riches,  to  be  enjoyed  in  some  distant  period  of  his  life.  For 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge  he  was  indeed  far  better  qualified  than  for  that  of  riches  s 
for  he  was  naturally  inquisitive,  and  desirous  of  the  conversation  of  those  from  whom 
jmy  information  was  to  be  obtamed,  but  by  no  means  sotidtous  to  improve  those  op- 
portunities that  were  sometimes  offered  of  raising  his  fortune ;  and  he  was  remaikably 
retentive  of  his  ideas^  which,  when  once  he  was  in  possession  of  them,  rarely  forsook 
him ;  a  quality  which  could  never  be  communicated  to  his  money. 

While  he  was  thus  wearing  out  hb  hfe  in  expectation  that  the  queen  would  some  time 
recollect  her  promise,  he  had  recourse  to  the  usual  practice  of  writers,  and  published 
proposals  for  printing  hb  works  by  subscription,  to  which  he  was  encouraged  by  the 
success  of  many  who  had  not  a  better  right  to  the  favour  of  the  public ;  but,  whateter 
was  the  reason,  he  did  not  find  the  worid  equally  uiclined  to  favour  him ;  and  be  ob^ 
served  with  some  discontent,  that,  though  he  ofiered  hb  works  at  half-a-guinea,  he  ifai 
able  to  procure  but  a  small  number  in  comparison  with  those  who  subscribed  twice  as 
much  to  Duck, 

Nor  was  it  without  indignation  that  he  saw  hb  proposals  neglected  by  the  queen, 
who  patronised  Mr.  Duck  s  with  uncommon  ardour,  and  incited  a  competition,  among 
those  who  attended  tlie  court,  who  should  most  promote  hb  interest,  and  who  shouM 
first  offer  a  subscription.  Thb  was  a  distinction  to  whidi  Mr.  Savage  made  no  scrqple 
of  asserting,  that  his  birth,  lii^  mbfortunes,  and  his  genius  gtve  a  faurer  title  than  could 
be  pleaded  by  him  on  whom  it  was  conferred^ 

Savage's  applications  were,  however,  not  universally  unsuccessful;  for  some  of  the 
nobility  countenanced  hb  design,  encouraged  his  proposals,  and  subscribed  with  great 
liberality.  He  related  of  the  duke  of  Chandos  particulariy,  that,  upon  receiving  bis 
proposals,  he  sent  hun  ten  guineas. 

But  the  money  which  hb  subscriptions  afforded  him  u*as  not  less  volatile  than  that 
whk^  i)e  received  from  hb  other  schei^es;  whenever  a  subscription  was  paki  bim,  he 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


LIFE  OF  SAYAOE.^  M9 

Mot  to  a  tavern ;  and  as  money  so  collected  n  necessarily  receired  in  small  sums,  ha 
fterer  was  able  to  send  his  poems  to  the  pfess^  but  for  many  years  continued  his  soUdtii* 
iion,  and  squandered  whatever  he  obtained. 

"This  project  of  printing  his  works  was  frequently  revived;  and  as  his  proposals  grew 
obsolete,  new  ones  were  printed  with  fresher  dates.  To  form  schemes  for  the  publican 
tion,  was  one  of  his  favourite  amusements;  nor  was  he  ever  more  at  ease  than  when, 
with  any  friend  who  readOy  fell  in  with  his  sdiemes,  he  was  adjusting  the  print,  forming 
the  advertiseaieiits,  and  regulathig  the  dbpersiou  of  his  new  edition,  which  he  really 
intended  some  time  to  publish,  and  which,  as  long  as  experience  had  shown  him  the 
impossibility  of  printing  the  volume  together,  he  at  last  determined  to  divide  into 
.%reekly  or  monthly  nxjunbeis,  that  the  profits  of  the  first  might  Supply  the  expenses  of 
the  oex|. 

Thus  he  spent  bb  time  in  mean  expedients  and  t:>rmenting  suspense,  living  for  the 
greatest  part  in  fear  of  prosecutions  from  his  creditors,  and  consequently  skulking  m 
lobsaure  parts  of  the  town,  of  which  he  was  no  stranger  to  the  remotest  comers.  But 
wherever  he  came.  Ins  address  secured  him  friends,  whom  his  necessities  soon  alienated; 
po  that  he  had,  perhapis,  a  more  numerous  acqoanitance  than  any  man  ever  before 
i^tained,  there  being  scarcely  any  person  eminent  on  any  account  to  whom  be  was  no|  . 
Imown,  or  whose  character  he  was  not  in  some  degree  able  to  delineate. 

To  the  acquisition  of  this  extensive  acquaintance  every  circumstance  •f  his  life  con- 
tributed. He  excelled  in  the  arts  of  conversation,  and  therefore  willingly  practised 
them.  He  had  seldom  any  home,  or  even  a  lodging  in  which  he  could  be  private ;  and 
therefore  was  driyen  into  public-houses  for  the  common  conveniences  of  life  and  sup- 
ports of  nature.  He  was  always  ready  to  com|>ly  with  evei^  invitation,  having  no 
employment  to  withhold  him,  and  often  no  money  to  proride  for  himself;  and  by  din- 
ing with  one  company,  he  never  fiiOed  of  obtaining  an  introduction  into  another. 

Thns  dissipated  was  his  life,  and  thus  casual  his  subsistence ;  yet  did  not  the  distrac- 
tion of  his  views  hinder  him  from  reflection,  nor  the  uncertainty  of  his  condition  depress 
hb  gaiety.  When  he  had  wandered  about  without  any  fortunate  adventure  by  which 
be  vras  led  mtp  a  tavern,  he  somethnes  retired  into  the  fields,  and  was  able  to  employ 
hb  mind  in  8tudy»  or  amqse,  it  with  pleasmg  imaginations ;  and  seldom  appeared  to  be 
melancholy,  but  when  some  sudden  mbfortune  had  just  fallen  upon  him ;  and  even  then 
in  a  few  moments  he  would  disentangle  himself  from  hb  perplexity,  adopt  the  subject 
of  conversation,  and  apply  hb  mind  wholly  to  the  objects  that  others  presented  to  it 

Thb  life,  unhappy  as  it  may  be  already  imagined,  was  yet  imbittered,  in  1738,  with 
new  calaipities.  The  death  of  the  queen  deprived  hhn  of  all  the  prospects  of  prefer- 
ment with  which  he  so  long  entertained  hb  imagination;  and,  as  sir  Robert  Walpole  had 
before  given  him  reason  to  believe  that  he  never,  intended  the  performance  of  hb  pro- 
mise,  he  was  now  abandoned  again  to  fortune.     •   ^ 

He  was,  however,  at  that  time,  supported  by  a  friend;  and  as  it  was  not  hb  custom 
to  look  out  for  distant  cahimities,  dt  to  feel  any  other  pain  than  that  which  forced  itself 
npon  hb  senses,  he  was  not  much  afilicted  at  hb  loss,  and  perhaps  comforted  himself 
that  hb  pension  would  be  now  continued  witliout  the  annual  tribute  of  a  panegyric* 

Another  expectation  contributed  likewise  to  support  him;  he  had  taken  a  resolutioQ 
to  write  a  second  tragedy  upoo  the  story  of  sir  Thomas  Ov^ib|u:^»  io  whicl^  be  pnesea- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ffn  LIFE  OF  SATAGE. 

▼edal«wlfai««rinsf(iniier|rivf^biittiiadeat^  tke  {duty  added  Mir 

ificideiits,  and  introduced  new  ofaaraeten;  m>  that  H  was  a  new  tragedy,  not  a  revival 
of  the  former. 

Many  of  iiis  irlends  Uamed  hiiii  for  not  making  dioice  of  another  subject;  bot,  ia 
^vindication  of  himself*  he  asserted,  thai  it  was  not  easy  to  find  a  better;  and  thai  he 
thougiit  it  his  interest  to  eictioguish  the  memory  of  the  first  tragedy,  which  lie  conld  enly 
do  by  wndng'one  less  defective  upon  the  same  story;  by  which  be  should  entirdy  defeat 
tile  artifice  of  the  booksellers,  who,  after  the  death  of  any  author  of  reputation,  are 
always  industrious  to  swell  his  woiks,  by  uniting  his  worst  productions  with  his  best 

In  the  cbiecution  of  this  sdieme,  however,  he  proceeded  but  slowly,  and  probably 
only  employed  fmnselfupon  it  when  he  could  find  no  other  amusement ;  but  he  pleased 
himself  with  counting  the  profits,  and  perhaps  imagined  that  the  theatrical  reputatioa 
which  he  was  about  to  acquire,  wonld  be  equivalent  to  all  that  he  had  hist  by  the  death 
•f  his  patroness. 

He  did  not,  in  confidence  of  his  approaching  riches^  neglect  the  measures  proper  la 
secure  the  continuance  of  his  pension,  though  some  of  his  fiivourers  thought  hioi  cat 
pable  for  omitting  to  write  on  her  death ;  but  on  her  birth-day  next  year,  he  gave  a 
proof  of  the  solidity  of  his  judgment,  and  the  power  of  his  genius.  He  knew  that  the 
track  of  elegy  had  been  so  long  beaten,  that  it  was  impossible  to  travel  in  it  withoal 
treading  in  the  footsteps  of  those  who  had  gone  before  him ;  and  that  therefore  k  was 
lieoessary,  that  he  might  distinguish  himself  from  the  herd  of  encomiasts,  to  find  oat 
Some  new  walk  of  funeral  panegyric, 

TliisdiflSculttaflk  he  performed  m  such  amanner,  that  his  poem  may  be  jnstiy  ranked 
among  the  best  pieces  that  the  death  of  princes  has  produced.  By  tron^uring  the 
mention  of  her  death  to  her  butb-day,  he  has  formed  a  happy  'combination  <rf  topics, 
which  any  other  man  would  have  thought  it  very  difficult  to  connect  in  one  view,  but 
which  he  has  umted  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  rdation  between  them  app^an  natural ; 
and  it  may  be  justly  said,  that  what  no  other  man  would  have  thought  on,  it  nowiqppeaii 
ifcarcely  possible  for  any  man  to  miss.  ^ 

The  beauty  of  this  pecaliar  combination  of  images  is  so  masterly,  that  it  is  suflkieol 
to  set  this  poem  above  censure;  and  therefore  it  is  not  necess{iry  to  mention  many  other 
delicate  touches  which  may  be  found  in  it,  and  which  would  deservedly  be  admired  io 
toy  other  performance. 

To  these  proofs  of  his  genius  may  be  added,  from  the  same  poem,  an  iastanee  of  his 
prudence,  an  excellence  for  which  he  was  not  so  often  distinguished ;  he  does  not  foiget 
io  remind  the  king,  in  tlie  most  delicate  and  artfol  manner,  of  continuing  hb  pension. 
'  With  regard  to  the  success  of  this  address,  he  was  for  some  time  in  suspence,  but  was 
•in  no  great  degree  solicitoos  about  it;  and  continued  his  labour  upon  his  new  tragedy 
with  great  tranquillity,  till  the  friend  who  had  for  a  consklerable  time  supported  hua, 
removing  hb  fam^y  to  another  place,  took  occasion  to  dismiss  him.  It  then  became 
necessary  to  inquire  more  diligently  what  was  detefuuned  in  his  affiir,  having  reason  to 
auspect  that  no  great  favour  was  intended  him,  because  he  had  not  nceivcd  his  poonofl 
at  the  usual  time. 

It  is  said, that  he  did  not  take  those  methods  of  retrieving  his  mteicst,  wiiieb.  weia 
•nest  Ubdy  toaoasaaili  aad  kmbs  of  those  who  weia  ea^yed  in  the  eidieq«er»  can* 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


X3FB  OF  SAVAGE.  US 

tfbocd'luraagftiosttooiiiiiefavMcDcemhisprocee^^  but  Mr.  Sange,  who  idd»m 
j«fiilated  iiB  condoet  by  the  tdvke  of  others, ^ve  way  to  his  passion,  and  demanded 
•f  sir  Robert  Walpde,  at  his  levee,  the  reason  of  the  distinction  tto#  was  made  betweea 
iniii  and  the  other  pensioners  of  the  queen,  .with  a  degree  of  roughness  which  perhaps 
lletefmiiied  him  to  withdraw  What  had  been  onlj  dehyed« 

MTfaaleTer  was  the  crime  of  which  he  was  acidised  or  suspected,  and  whatever  influ* 
«iioe  was  emptoyed  agahst  him,  he  received  soon  after  an  account  that  took  fcom  hiia 
all  hopes  of  regaining  Us  pension;  and  he  had  now  no  prospect  of  subsistence  but  iron 
Us  play,  and  he  knew  no  way  of  Uvmg  for  the  time  require  to  finish  it 

So  peculiar  were  the  misfortunes  of  .this  man,  deprived  of  an  estate  and  title  by  ak 
particular  law,ieiqMMed  aiMl  abandoned  by  a  mother,  defrauded  by  n  mother  of  a  fortune 
which  his  father  had  allotted  him,  he  entered  the  world  without  a  friend ;  and  though 
Us  abHitieiL  forced  themselves  into  esteem  and  reputaticm,  be  was  never  able  to  obtain 
•oy  real  advantage;  and  whatever  prospects  arose»  were  always  intercepted  as  he  began 
to  approach  them.  The  king's  inteotioos  in  his  favour  were  frustrated;  his  dedication 
to  the  prince,  whose  generosity  on  every  other  occasion  was  eminent,  procured  bun  no 
teward ;  sir  Robert  Walpole,  who  valued  hunself  upon  keeping  his  promise  to  other% 
broke  it  to  him  without  regret;  and  the  boonty  of  the  ijueeawas^afUr  her  death,  with* 
drawn  from  him,  and  from  him  only. 

Soch  were  his  misfortmies,  which  yet  he  bore^  not  only  with  deeency,  but  with  cheei^ 
Mness;  nor  was  his  gaiety  dooded  even  by  his  last  disappointments,  though  he  was  m 
a  short  tune  reduced  to  the  lowest  degree  of  distress,  and  often  wanted  both  lodging 
and  food.  At  this  thne  he  gave  another  mstaaoe  of  the  hisurmounlable  ohstiaa<^  of 
Usspirit;  his  clothes  weie worn  out;  andhereceivednoticcth^ata  cofte-hoo^aoine 
dotbes  and  linen  were  left  for  him:  the  person  who  sent  them  did  not^  I  believe^  iufonn 
Mralo  wbombe  was  lo  be  obliged^  that  be  mightspare  thepeiplexifyof  acknofiledging 
the  benefit;  hot  though  the  offer  was  so  6r  generous,  it  was  made  with  some  oeglecl 
of  oefenooiesk  wkfeh  Bfr.  Savage  so  much  resented,  thai  he  rafosed  the  pteseut,  and 
dedmed  to  ei^r  the  bouse  till  the  clothes  that  had  been  designed  for  him  were  taken 


His  distress  was  now  pnbtteiy  known,  and  his  friends  therefore  thought  it  proper  to 
concert  some  measures  for  his  relief;  and  one  of  them  wrote  a  le^ec  to  him,  in  which 
fceeqwessed  his  concern ** for  the  misefable  withdrawing  of  hb  penston;"  audgavehiia 
Inpes,  that  in  a  short  tinM  he  should  find  hhuself  sapfilied  with  a  competence,  ''without 
any  dq>endence  on  those  little  creatures  whkh  we  are  pleased  to  call  the  Greal.'^ 

The^^heme  proposed  for  ttiisiiappy  and  mdependent  subsistence  was,  that  be  should 
felife  hrto  Waks,  and  recdve  m  aiowance  of  fifty  pounds  a  ytar,  to  be  raised  by  « 
ittbacriptkm,  on  whk^  he  was  to  liva  privately  in  a  cheap  pbce,  withont  aspiring  ai^ 
l^re  to  afRuemJe,  or  havmg  my  fiuther  care  of  repntatioii. 

His  oftr  Mr.  Savage  gladly  accepted,  Ibongh  with  intentions  very  diffeieiit  froM 
Hme  of  his  friends ;  for  they  proposed  that  he  should  continue  an  exile  from  LondtM 
for  ever,  and  spend  aM  the  remaking  part  of  his  life  at  Swansea;  but  heilesigned  onif 
^  tite  the  opportunity,  wtuchlheiracheaieofrefed  hhn,  of  retraatng  f or  a  9bort  tirae^ 
4iat  he  migbt  prepaie  bis  phiy  for  ^kt  stage,  and  hisolher  wocks  for  the  prw»  aod  then 
letum  to  LMidoa  to  exhibit  his  tmgedy,  and  live  upon  the  profits  of  hisown  labour. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ IC 


With  fegard  to  bh  works,'  he  prqioBed  very  great  hnprovemeDtSi  which  woutdT  h«f# 
ihequired  much  time,  or  great  applicdlion ;  and,  when  he  had  finiBhed  them,  he  dttigiied. 
to  do  justice  to  his  subscribers,  by  publishiug  them  according  to  bis  proposals.  * 

As  he  was  ready  to  entertain  himself  with  fiitukre  pleasures^  be  had  planned  out  a  scheme 
of  life  for  the  country,  of  whidi  he  bad  no  knowledge  but  from  paslorals  and  soogs. 
He  imagined  that  he  should  be  tran4)6rted  to  scenes  of  floweify  felicity,  like  those  which 
One  poet  has  reflected  to  another ;  and  htad  projected  a  peipetual  round  of.  iMioceDi 
pleasures,  of  which  he  suspected  no  iuterruption  from  pride,  or  ignorance,  or  bruUlity.' 

With  these  expectations  he  was  so  enchanted,  that  when  he  was  once  gently  re-^ 
proached  by  a  friend  for  submitting  to  live  upon  a  subscription/ 1^  advised  rather  by 
li  resolute  exertion  of  bis  abDities  to  support  himself,  he  could  not  bear  to.  debar  himself 
from  the  ht<pft>in^8'  which  was  to  be  found  in  the  calm  of  a^  cottage,  or  lo^  the  oppor- 
tunity of  Ustenmg,  without  intermission,  to  the  melody  of  the  nigbUng^te,  which  he 
believed  was  to  be  heard  from  every  bramble,  and  which  he  did  nbt  fiui  to  mention  a» 
a  very  important  pkut  of  the  htfpphiess  of  a  country  life. 

While  this  scheme  was  ripenhig,  his  friends  directed  him  to  take  a  lodging  in  thc^ 
Kberties  of  the  Fleet,  that  he  might  be  secure  from  his  creditors ;  and  sent  him  every 
M6iktay  a  guinea/  wMch  he  commonly  sp«nt  before  the  next  morning,  and  trusted  aftetf 
his  usual  manner,  the  remaining  part  of  the  week  to  the  bounty  of  fortune. 

He  now  h^gan  very  sensibly  ^o  fed  the  nuseties  of  dependence.  Those  by  whom  ht 
Was  to  be  supported  began  to  preteribe  to  him  with  an  air  of  authority,  which  he  knew 
not  how  decently  to  resent,  nor  patiently  to  bear;  and  be  idon  discovered,  from  the  con- 
duct of  most  of  his  subscribers,  that  he  was  yet  in  the  hands  of  **  little  creatures." 

Of  the  insolence  that  he  was  obliged  to  sufier,  he  gave  many  instances;  of  which 
none  appeared  to  raise  his  indignation  to  a  greater  height,  than  the  method' which  wu 
taken  of  ftmaMng  him  with  clothes.  Instead  of  consulting  him;  and  allowing  him  to 
send  a  tailor  his  orclerr  for  what  they  thought  fNroper  to  allow  hhn,  they  proposed  to 
iend  for  a  f  ^lor  totakef  his*  measure,  and  then  to  consult  how  they  should  equip  him. 

Tbi^tretitment  was  not  very  delkate,  nor  was  it  such  as  Savage's  humanity  would 
have  suggested  to  him  on  a  like  occasion ;  but  it  had  scarcely  deserved  mention,  had  il 
'  ttot,  l>y  fl^flRfrcting  him  in  an  uncommon  decree,  shown  the'  peculiarity  of  his  character. 
Upon  hearing  the  design  that  was  formed,  he  came  to  (he  lodging  of  a  friend  with  thi 
most  violent  agonies  of  rage;  and,  being  asked  what  it  could  be  that  gsive  him  such 
disturbance,  he  replied  with  the  utmost  vehemence  of  indignation,  "that  they  had  sent 
for  a  tailor  to  measure  him.'' 

How  the  afiaif  ended'  was  never  inquired,  for  fear  of  renewing  his  uneasiness.  It  is 
probable  that,  upon  recollection*,  he  submitted  with  a  good'  grac^  to  what  he  could  not 
avoid,  and  that  he  discovered  no  resentment  where  he  had*  no  poWef . 

He  was,  however,  not  humbled  to  impKcit  and  universal  complianee;  fdr  when  the 
gentleman,  who  had  first  informed  him  of  the  design  to  sup|x>rt  him  by  a  subscrq>tioii, 
attempted  to  procure  a  reconciliation  with  the  lord  Tyrconnel,  he  could  by  no  meaw 
be  prevuled  jipon  to  comply  with  the  measures  that  were  proposed. 

A  letter  was  written  for  him  ^  to  sir  William  Lemon,  to  prevail  upoo  him  to  intep- 
pose  his  good  offices  with  lord  Tyrconnel,  in  which  he  solicited  sir  WiUiam's  ( 

»«lfyMr.Pope.    Dr.^ 


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UFE  OF  SAVAGE.  f  gf 

^*Ar  a  man  who  really  needed  it  as  much  as  any  man  could  well  do;''  and  informed 
bisi,  that  he  was  retiring  "  for  ever  to  a  place  where  he  should  no  more  trouble  hb 
relations,  friends,  or  enemies;"  he  confessed,  that  his  passion  had  betrayed  him  to  some 
conduct,  with  regard  to  lord  Tyrconnel,  for  which  he  could  not  but  heartily  ask  his 
pardon;  and  as  he  imagined  lord  Tyrconnel's  passion  might  be  yet  so  high  that  he 
woald  hot  ••  receive  a  letter  from  him,"  begged  that  ar  William  would  endeavour  to 
seften  bim;  and  expressed  his  hopes  tliat  he  would  comply  with  his  rec|uest,  and  that 
^  so  small  a  relation  would  not  harden  his  heart  against  him." 

That  any  man  should  presume  to  dictate  a  letter  to  him,  was  not  very  agreeable  i& 
Mr.  Savage ;  and  therefore  he  was,  before  he  had  opened  it,  not  much  inclined  to  ap- 
prove it.  But  when  he  read  it,  he  found  it  contained  seutiments  entirely  opposite  to 
his  own,  and,  as  he  asserted,  to  the  truth,  and  therefore,  instead  of  copying  it,  wrote  his' 
fnend  a  letter  full  of  masculine  resentment  and  warm  expostulations.  He  very  justly 
observed,  that  the  style  was  too  suppUcatoiy/  and  the  representation  too  abject,  and 
that  he  ought  at  least  to  have  made  him  complam  with  "  the  dignity  of  a  gentleman  in  • 
tlistress."  He  declared  that  he  would  not  write  the  paragraph  in  which  he  was  to  ask 
lord  Tyrconnel's  pardon ;  for,  **  be  despised  his  pardon>  and  therefore  could  not 
heartily,  and  would  not  hypocritically,^  ask  it.'^  He  remarked  that  his  friend  made  a 
very  unreasonable  distinction  between  himself  and  him ;  for,  says  he,  **  when  you  men- 
tion men  of  high  rank  in  your  own  character,^  they  ^re  *'  those  little  creatures  whom 
we  are  frieased  to  call  the  Great;"  but  when  yon  address  them  '*in  mme,"  no  servility 
10  sitfdently  humUe.  He  then  with  great  propriety  explamed  the  ill  consequences 
which  might  be  expected  from  such  a  letter,  which  his  relations  would  print  in. their 
•wn  defence,  and  which  would  for  ever  be  produced  as  a  full  answer  to  all  that  be 
should  allege  agauist  them ;  for  he  always  intended  to  publish  a  minute  account  of 
the  treatment  which  he  had  received.  It  is  to  be  remembered,  to  the  honour  of  the 
gentleman  by  whom  this  letter  was  drawn  up,  that  he  yielded  to  Mr.  Savage's  reasons,, 
and  agreed  that  it  ought  to  be  suppressed. 

.  AAer  many  alterations  and  delays,  a  subscription  was  at  lengdi  laised^  which  did  not 
amount  to  fifty  pounds  a  year,  though  twenty  were  paid  by  one  gentlennn  ^  y  such  was* 
6ie  generoaty  of  mankind,  that  what  had  been  done  by  a  player  without  solicitation,  • 
fonki  not  now  be  efiected  by  application  and  interest ;  and  Savage  bad  a  great  number 
to  comt  and  to  obey  for  a  pensk>n  less  than  that  which  Mrs.  Oldfield  paki  himr  without 
exacting  any  servitttiesw 

Mr.  Savage,  however,  was  satisfied,  and  willmg  to  retire,  and  was  convinced  that  the 
•Uowancc^  thoogh  scanty,  would  be  more  than  sufficient  for  him,beiognow  determined 
to  commence  a  rigid  economist^^  and  to  live  according  to  the  exactest  rules  of  frugality  ; 
far  nothing  was  in  his  opinion  more  contemptible  than  a  roan,  who,  when  he  knew  his 
income,  exceeded  it;  and  yet'he  confessedv  that  instances  of  such  folly  were  toocom- 
ason,  and  lamented  that  some  men  were  not  to  be  trusted  with  their  own  money. 

Full  of  these  salutary  resolutions,  he  left  London  in  July  1739,  having  taken  leave 
%rith  great  tendemesb  of  his  friends,  and  piieuted  from  the  author  of  this  narrative  with 
\  m  his  eyes.    He  was  furnished  with  fifteen  guineas,  and  informed  tl^t  they  would 

s*Mr.  Pop«.    A 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


SSS  UFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

be  suffidcnt,  not  only  for  the  expense  of  his  journey,  but  lor  his  fopporl  in  Wales  ftf 
6onie  tone;  and  that  there  remamed  but  little  more  of  the  first  collection.  He  pro- 
mised ^  strict  adherence  to  hb  nuuums  of  parsimony,  and  went  away  in*  the  stage  coach ; 
nor  did  his  friends  expect  to  hear  from  him  till  he  informed  them  of  his  arrival  al 
Swansea. 

But,  when  they  least  expected,  arrived  a  letter  dated  the  fourteenth  day  after  Ins 
departure,  in  whkh  he  sent  them  word,  that  he  was  yet  upon  the  road,  and  witiMMt 
money ;  and  that  he  therefore  could  not  proceed  without  a  remittance.  They  then  sent 
him  the  money  that  was  m  their  hands,  with  which  he  was  enabled  to  leadi  BrisloU 
from  whence  he  was  to  go  to  Swansea  by  water. 

At  Bristol  he  found  an  embargo  laid  upon  the  shipping,  so  that  he  couM  not  imine« 
diately  obtain  a  passage;  and  being  therefore  obliged  to  stay  th^  some  time,  be  with 
his  usual  felicity  ingratiated  himself  vrith  many  of  the  principal  inhabitants,  wasmrited 
to  theur  houses,  distinguished  at  their  public  feasts,  and  treated  with  a  regard  that  gi»* 
tified  his  vanity,  and  therefore  easily  engaged  his  afiection. 

He  began  very  early  after  his  retkement  to  comphiin  of  thecoDdnd  of  his  friends  in 
London,  and  irritated  many  of  them  so  much  by  his  letters,  that  they  withdrew,  however 
honourably,  their  contributions ;  and  it  b  believed  that  little  more  vras  paid  him  than 
tiie  tweofty  pounds  a  year,  which  were  allowed  him  by  the  gentleman  who  proposad  the 
subscriptionc 

After  some  stay  id  Bristol  he  retired  to  Swansea,  the  frface  originally  proposed  for 
his  residence,  where  he  lived  about  a  year,  very  much  dissatisfied  with  the  dimaiuticNi 
of  his  salary;  but  contracted,  as  in  other  places,  acquaintance  with  those  who  vrera 
most  distinguished  in  that  country,  among  whom  he  has  celebrated  Mr.  Possel  and 
Mrs.  Jones,  by  some  verses  which  he  inserted  in  The  Gentleman's  Biagaahie  ^. 

Here  he  completed  his  tragedy,  of  which  two  acts  were  wanting  when  he  leftLoadoa; 
and  was  desirous  of  coming  to  town,  to  bring  it  upon  the  stage.  This  des^  was  veij 
warmly  opposed;  and  he  was  advised,  by  his  diief  benefactor,  to  put  it  into  the  bandl 
of  Mr.  Thomson  and  Mr.  MaUet,  that  it  might  be  fitted  for  the  stage,  and  to  allow  his 
friends  to  receive  the  profits,  out  of  which  an  annual  pension  should  be  paid  Imd. 
•  Thisproposalfaerejected  with  the  utmost  contempt.  He  was  by  no  means  conmced 
that  the  judgment  of  those,  to  whom  he  was  required  to  submit,  was  superior  to  his 
own.  He  was  now  determined,  as  he  expressed  it,  to  be  ^  no  longer  kept  in  leading- 
strings,''  and  had  no  elevated  idea  of  *'  his  bounty,  who  proposed  to  pension  Imn  oil 
of  the  profits  of  his  own  labours." 

He  attempted  in  Wales  to  promote  a  subscription  for  his  woriu,  and  had  (mce  hopts 
of  fuccess;  but  in  a  short  time  afterwards  formed  a  resolution  of  leaving  timl  part  of 
the  country,  to  which  he  thought  it  not  reasonable  to  be  coitfned,  for  Uie  pntififiiun 
of  those  who,  having  promised  him  a  liberal  income,  had  no  sooner  bontshtd  Um  ton 
remote  comer,  than  they  reduced  his  allowance  to  a  salary  scaroelyeqnal  to.  HioiMecs* 
sities  of  Hfe. 

His  itsentment  of  this  treatment,  winch,  in  his  own  opinion  at4cast,  he  had  not  i^ 
served,  was  snch,  that  he  broke  off  all  correspondence  with  most  of  his  oonteihiitoi% 

aiBeprlnted  in  the  present  CoUeetiom 


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UFE  OF  SAVAGE.  tS9 

tDd  appeared,  to  eonsider  thetn  as  persecutors  and  oppressors ;  and  in  the  latter  part  of 
his  life  declared,  that  their  conduct  toward  him  since  his  departure  from  London  "  had 
heen  perfidiousoess  improving  on  perfidiousness,  and  inhumanity,  on  inhumanity." 

It  b  not  to  be  suf^sed  that  the  necessities  of  Mr.  Savage  did  not  sometimes  incite 
him  to  satirical  exaggerations  of  the  behaviour  of  those  by  whom  he  thought  himself  re- 
duced to  them^  But  it  must  be  granted,  that  the  diminution  of  his  allowance  was  a 
great  hardship,  and  that  those  who  withdrew  their  subscriptions  from  a  man,  who,  upon 
the  iaiih  of  their  promise,  had  gone  into  a  kind  of  bauishment,  and  abandoned  all 
those  by  whom  he  had  been  before  relieved  in  his  distresses,  will  find  it  no  easy  task  to 
vindicate  their  conduct 

It  may  be  alleged,  and  perhqis  justly,  that  he  was  petulant  and  contemptuous;  that  he 
more  frequently  reproached  his  subscribers  for  not  giving  him  more,  than  thanked  them 
for  what  he  received;  but  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  his  conduct,  and  this  is  the  worst 
charge  tliat  can  be  drawn  up  against  him»  did  them  no  real  u\jury,  and  that  it  therefore 
.  ought  rather  to  have  been  pitied  than  resented ;  at  least,  the  resentment  it  might  provoke 
ought  to  have  be^  generous  and  maiily ;  epithets  wliich  his  conduct  will  hardly  deserve^ 
that  starves  the  man  whom  he  has  persuaded  to  put  himself  into  his  power. 

It  might  have  been  reasonably  demanded  by  Savage,  that  they  should,  before  they 
bad  taken  away  what  they  promised,  have  replaced  him  in  his  former  state,  that  they 
Bhould  have  taken  no  advantages  from  the  situation  to  which  the  appearance  of  their 
kuidness  had  reduced  bun,  and  that  be  should  have  been  recalled  to  London  before  he 
was  al>andoned.  He  might  justly  represent,  that  he  ought  to  have  been  considered 
as  a  lion  in  the  toils,  and  demand  to  be  released  before  the  dogs  should  be  loosed 
upoahim. 

He  endeavoured,  indeed,  to  release  himself,  and,  with  an  intent  to  return  to  London^ 
went  to  Bristol,  where  a  repetition  of  the  kindness  which  he  had  formerly  found  invited 
him  to  stay.  He  was  not  odty  caressed  and  treated,  but  had  a  collection  made  for  him 
of  about  thirty  pounds,  with  which  it  had  been  happy  if  he  had  uaomediately  departed 
for  London ;  but  hb  negligence  did  not  sufier  huu  to  consider;  that  such  proofs  of 
kindness  were  not  often  to  be  expected,  and  that  this  ardour  of  benevolence  was  m  a 
great  degree  the  effect  of  novelty,  and  might,  probably,  be  eiery  day  less ;  and  there^ 
fore  he  took  no  care  to  improve  the  happy  tune,  but  was  encouraged  by  one  favour 
to  hope  for  another,  till  at  length  generosity  was  exhausted,  and  ofiiciousness  wearied. 

Another  part  of  his  misconduct  was  the  practice  of  prolonging  his  visits  to  unseason* 
able  hours,  and  disconcerting  all  the  families  mto  which  he  was  admitted.  Thb  was 
an  errour  in  a  place  of  commerce,  which  all  the  charnoui  of  hb  conversation  could  not 
compensate;  for  what  trader  would  purchase  such  airy  satbiaction  by  the  loss  of  solid 
gain,  which  must  be  the  consequence  of  midnight  merriment,  as  those  hours  which  were 
gained  at  night  were  generally  lost  in  the  morning  1 

,  Thus  Mr.  Savage,  after  the  curiosity  of  the  inhabitants  was  gratified,  found  the  num- 
ber of  his  friends  daily  decreasing,  periiaps  without  suspecting  for  what  reason  their 
conduct  was  altered;  for  he  still  continued  to  harass,  with  hb  nocturnal  intrusions,  tlu»# 
that  yet  countenanced  him,  and  admitted  him  to  their  houses. 

But  he  did  not  spend  all  the  time  of  hb  residence  at  Bristol  in  visits  or  at  taverns; 
^r  be  sometimes  retunied  to  hbstadki)»  and  began  several  CQwderaUfdetiy^    Whep 
VOL.  %L  V 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


2y>  LIFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

be  fdt  an  iuclination  to  write,  be  always  retired  from  the  knowledge  tthk  frieodt,  na4 
lay  bid  in  an  obscure  part  of  the  suburbs,  till  he  found  binKtelfagaiii  desirous  of  com- 
pany, to  which  it  is  likely  that  intervals  of  absence  made  him  more  wekoroe. 

He  was  always  full  of  his  design  of  returning  to  London,  to  bring  bis  tragedy 
upon  the  stage:  but,  having  neglected  to  depart  with  the  money  that  was  raised  for 
him,  he  could  not  afterwards  procure  a  sum  sufficient  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his 
journey ;  nor  perhaps  would  a  fresh  supply  have  had  any  other  effect  than,  by  putting 
bnmediate  pleasures  into  his  power,  to  have  driven  the  (lioughts  of  his  journey  out  of 
his  mind. 

While  he  was  thus  spending  the  day  in  contriving  a  scheme  lor  the  morrow,  distress 
Stole  upon  him  by  imperceptible  degrees.  His  conduct  had  already  wearied  some  of 
those  who  were  at  first  etiamoured  of  his  conversation ;  but  he  might,  perhaps,  still 
have  devolved  to  others,  whom  he  might  have  entertained  with  eqnal  success,  bad  not 
the  decay  of  his  clothes  made  it  no  longer  consistent  with  their  vanity  to  admit  him  t» 
their  tables,  or  to  associate  with  him  in  public  phices.  He  now  began  to  find  every  mad 
from  bon^e  at  whose  house  he  called ;  and  was  therefore  no  longer  able  to  procure  the 
necessaries  of  life,  but  wandered  about  the  town  slighted  and  neglected,  in  quest  of  a 
dmner,  which  he  did  not  always  obtain. 

To  complete  his  misery,  he  was  pursued  by  the  ofiicers  for  small  debts  which  he  had 
contracted ;  and  was  therefore  obliged  to  withdraw  from  the  small  number  of  frieiids 
from  whom  he  had  still  reason  to  hope  for  favours.  His  custom  was,  to  lie  m  bed  tlic 
greatest^  part  of  the  day,  and  to  go  out  in  tlie  dark  with  tlie  utmost  privacy,  and,  after 
havmg  paid  his  visit,  return  again  before  morning  to  bis  lodging,  which  was  the  garret 
of  an  obscure  inn. 

Being  thus  excluded  on  one  hand,  and  confined  on  the  other,  he  suffered  the  utmost 
extremities  of  poverty,  and  often  fiisted  so  long  that  he  was  seued  with  fiiintness,  and 
had  lost  his  appetite,  not  being  able  to  l>ear  the  smell  pf  meat,  till  the  action  of  fab 
stomach  was  restored  by  a  cordial. 

In  this  distress,  be  received  a  remittance  of  five  pounds  fW>m  London,  with  which 
he  provided  himself  a  decent  coat,  and  determined  to  go  to  London,  but  unhappily 
spent  his  money  at  a  favourite  tavern.  Thus  was  he  again  confined  ta  Bristol,  whera 
he  was  every  day  hunted  by  bailifis.  In  this  exigence  he  once  more  found  a  friend,  who 
sheltered  him  in  bis  hous^  though  at  the  usual  inconveniences  with  which  hb  company 
was  attended ;  for  he  could  neither  be  persuaded  to  go  to  bed  in  the  night,  nor  to  rise 
m  the  day. 

It  b  observable,  that  m  these  various  scenes  of  misery  he  was  always  disengaged  and 
cbeerjlul:  he  at  some  times  pursued  hb  studies;  and  at  others  continued  or  enlarged  hb 
epbtolary  correspondence ;  nor  was  he  ever  so  fiir  dejected  a^  to  endeavour  to  procure 
an  uicrease  of  hb  allowance  by  any  other  methods  than  accusations  and  reproadies. 

He  had  now  no  longer  any  hopes  of  assistance  from  hb  friends  at  Bristol,  who  as 
merchants,  and  by  consequence  sufficiently  studious  of  profit,  cannot  be  sufyosed  to 
have  looked  with  much  compassion  upon  negligence  and  extravagance,  or  to  think  any  ^ 
exceUence  equivalent  to  a  fiiult  of  such  consequence  as  neglect  of  economy.  It  b 
natural  to  imagine,  that  many  of  those,  who  would  have  rtUeved  hb  red  wants,  vmt 
dbcouraged  from  the  exeitkm  of  tfaeb  benevolence  by  observalkm  of  the  u^ 


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UFE  OP  SAVAGE.  291 

made  of  their  feyoure,  and  conviction  that  relief  would  only  be  momentary,  and  that 
the  same  necessity  would  quickly  return. 

At  last  he  quitted  tke  house  of  his  friend,  and  returned  to  hb  lodging  at  the  inn, 
still  intending  to  set  out  in  a  few  days  for  London;  but  on  the  10th  of  January  J742-3» 
having  been  at  supper  with  two  of  his  friends,  he  was  at  hb  return  to  hb  lodgings 
arrested  for  a  debt  of  about  eight  pounds^  which  he  owed  at  a  coffee-bouse,  and  con- 
ducted to  the'house  of  a  sheriff's  officer.  The  account  which  he  gives  of  this  mis-> 
fortune,  in  a  letter  to  oue  of  the  gentlemen  with  whom  he  had  supped,  is  tO|0  remark* 
able  to  be  omitted.  •  ^ 

*'  It  was  not  a  little  unfortunate  for  roe,  that  I  spent  yesterday"^  evening  with  you; 
because  the  hour  hmdered  me  from  entering  on  my  new  lodging ;  however,  I  have 
Doir  got  one,  but  such  an  one  as  I  believe  nobody  would  chuse. 

"  I  was  arrested  at  the  suit  of  Mrs.  Read,  just  as  1  was  going  up  stairs  to  bed,  at 
Mr.  Bowyer's ;  but  taken  in  so  private  a  mauner,  that  I  believe  nobody  at  the  White 
Lion  b  apprised  of  it ;  though  I  let  the  officers  know  the  strength,  or  rather  weakness^ 
of  my  pocket,  yet  they  treated  me  with  the  utmost  civility ;  and  even  when  they  con- 
ducted me  to  confinement,  it.was  in  such  a  manner,  that  I  verily  believe  I  could  hav^ 
escaped,  which  I  would  rather  be  ruined  than  have  done,  notwithstanding  the  whole 
amount  of  my  finances  was  but  three  pence  halfpenny. 

**  In  the  first  place,  I  must  iiwist,  that  you  will  industriously  conceal  this  from  Mra. 

S s»  because  I  would  not  have  her  good:nature  suffer  that  pam,  which,  I  know,  she 

would  be  apt  to  feel  on  thb  Occasion. 

**  Next,  I  conjure  you,  dear  sir,  by  all  the  ties  of  friendship,  by  no  means  to  have 
one  uneasy  thought  on  my  account ;  but  to  have  the  same  pleasantry  of  countenance, 
and  onruffied  serenity  of  mind,  which  (God  be  prabed !)  I  have  in  this,  and  have  had 
ID  a  much  severer  calamity.  Furthermore,  I  charge  you,  if  you  value  my  friend^ 
ship  as  truly  as  I  do  yoiirs,  not  to  utter,  or  even  harbour,  the  least  resentment  against 
llrs»  Read.  I  believe  she  has  ruined  me,  but  I  freely  forgive  her ;  and  (though  t 
will  never  more  have  any  intimacy  with  her)  I  would,  at  a  due  dbtance,  rather  do  her 
ao  act  of  good,  than  ill-wilL  Lastly,  (pardon  the  expression)  I  absolutely  command 
^oo  not  to  offer  me  any  pecuniary  assbtance,  nor  to  attempt  getting  me  any  from  any 
one  of  your  friends.  At  another  time,  or  on  any  other  occasion,  you  may,  dear 
friend,  be  well  assured,  I  would  rather  write  to  you  in  the  submissive  style  of  a  request^ 
than  that  of  a  peremptory  command. 

**  However,  that  my  truly  valuable  friend  may  not  think  I  am  too  proud  to  ask  a 
fiivour,  let  me  intreat  you  to  let  me  have  your  boy  to  attend  me  for  thb  day,  not  only 
for  the  sake  of  saving  me  the  expense  of  porters,  but  for  the  deUvery  of  some  letters 
to  people  whose  names  I  would  not  have  knc^^n  to  strangers. 

'*  The  civil  treatment  I  have  thus  far  met  from  those  whose  prisoner  I  am,  makes 
me  thankful  to  the  Ahnighty,  that  though  he  has  thought  fit  to  vbit  me  (oa  my  birtb<^ 
night)  10th  affliction,  yet  (such  b  hb  great  goodness!)  my  affliction  b  not  without  alle-^ 
viatiDg  circumstances.  I  murmur  not ;  but  am  all  resignation  to  the  divine  will.  As 
to  the  worid,  I  hope  that  I  shall  be  endued  by  Heaven  with  that  presence  of  mind, 
that  serene  d^nity  in  misfortune,  that  constitutes  the  character  of  a  true  nobleman ;  a 
dignity  lar  beyond  that  of  coronets;  a  nobility  arising  firom  the  just  principles  of  phi- 
losophy, refined  and  exalted  by  those  of  Christianity." 

U  U 


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S92  LIFEOFSAVAQR 

He  continued  five  days  at  the  officer^s,  in  hopes  that  he  should  be  able  la  procort 
bail,  and  avoid  the  necessity  of  going  to  prison.  The  state  in  which  he  passed  his 
time,  and  the  treatment  which  he  received,  are  very  jasUy  etpressed  by  him  in  ft 
letter  which  he  wrote  to  a  friend :  **  The  whole  day,"  says  he,  **  has  been  emfrioyed 
In  various  people's  filling  my  head  with  their  foolish  chimerical  systems,  which  ha» 
obliged  roe  coolly  (as  far  as  nature  will  admit)  to  digest,  and  accommodate  mysdf  to 
every  difierent  person's  way  of  thinking ;  hurried  from  one  wfld  system  to  another^ 
till  it  has  quite  naade  a  chaos  of  my  imagination,  and  nothing  done — promised — 
disappointed-bordered  to  send,  every  hour,  froifi  one  part  of  the  town  to  the 
other." 

When  his  friends,  who  had  hitherto  caressed  and  applauded,  found  that  to  give 
bail  and  pay  the  debt  was  the  same,  they  all  refined  to  preserve  him  from  a  praon 
at  the  expense  of  eight  pounds ;  and  therefore,  after  having  been  for  some  time  at  thcr 
^officer's  house  **  at  an  immense  expense,'^  as  he  observes  in  hb  letter,  he  was  at  length 
removed  to  Newgale. 

This  expense  he  was  enabled  to  support  by  tlie  generosity  of  Mr«  Nash  at  Bath, 
who,  upon  receiving  from  him  an  account  of  his  condition,  immediately  sent  him 
five  gumeas,  and  promised  to  promote  his  subscription  at  Bath  with  all  hi# 
interest 

By  hb  removal  to  Newgate,  he  obtained  at  least  a  freedom  from  suspense,  and  resf 

from  the  disturbing  vicissitudes  of  hope  and  disappointment:   he  now  fi>imd  that  hm 

Iriends  were  only  companions,  who  were  willmg  to  share  hb  gaiety,  but  not  to 

artake  of  his  mbfortunes ;  and  therefore  he  no  longer  expected  any  assbtance  front 

Jem. 

It  must,  however,  be  observed  of  one  gentleman^  that  he  offered  to  release  him  by 
^ying  the  debt ;  but  that  Mr.  Savage  would  not  consent,  I  suppose^  because  he  thougfal 
he  had  before  been  too  burthensome  to  him. 

He  was  ofiered  by  some  of  hb  friends  that  a  collection  should  be  made  for  hb  eor 
Jargement :  but  he  '^  treated  the  proposal,"  and  declared^  "  he  should  agam  treat  it, 
with  disdain.  As  to  writing  any  mendicant  letters,  he  had  too  big  a  spurit,  and  deleiw 
filmed  only  to  write  to  some  ministers  of  state  to  try  to  regain  hb  pension.'* 

He  continued  to  complain  ^  of  those  that  had  sent  him  into  the  country,  and-  ol^ 
jected  to  them,  that  he  had  **  lost  the  profits  of  hb  play;  which  had  been  finished 
Ahree  yeara  ;'*  and  in  another  letter  declares  hb  resolution  to  imblish  a  ptmphle^ 
Ahat  the  world  might  know  ^ow  **  he  had  been  used.*^ 

Thb  pamphlet  was  never  written ;  for  he  in  a  very  short  time  recoveied  hb  usoal  traib 
quillity,  and  cheerfully  applied  Inmself  to  more  inoffensive  studies.  He  indeed  steadilj 
4eclared,  that  he  was  promised  a  yearly  allowance  of  fifty  pounds,  and  never  receive^ 
Jialf  the  sum;  but  he  seemed  to  resign  himself  to  that  as  well  as  to  other  misfoitoncs. 
and  lose  tte  remembrance  of  it  in  hb  amusements  and  employments*  . 

The  cheerfiilness  with  which  he  bore  hb  confinequent  appears  from  thu  Ibllownif 
ictter,  which  .he  wrote^  January  the  30th,  to  one  of  hb  fijends  in  Londco. 


^  In  a  letter  after  hb  oonittBaleat    Z>r.  /. 
ti  XMtMT,  Jaa*^. 


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I 


LIFE  OF  SAVAQE.  S93 

'  ^  T  DOW  write  to  you  from  iny  confinement  in  Newgate,  where  I  have  been  ever 
«iace  Monday  last  was  se'nnight,  and  where  1  ei^oy  myself  with  much  more  tranquBr 
Gty  than  I  have  known  for  upwards  of  a  twelvemonth  past ;  having  a  room  entirely  to 
myself,  and  pursuing  the  amusement  of  my  poetical  studies,  uninterrupted,  and  agree- 
able to  my  mind.  I  thank  the  Almighty,  I  am  now  all  collected  in  myself;  and, 
though  my  person  is  in  confinement,  my  mind  cau  expatiate  on  ample  and  useful  sub- 
jects with  all  the  freedom  imaginable*  I  am  now  more  conversant  with  the  Nine  than 
ever,  and  if,  instead  of  a  Newgate-bird,  I  may  be  allowed  to  be  a  bird  of  the  Muse^ 
I  assure  you,  sir,  I  sing  very  freely  in  my  cage ;  sometimes  indeed  in  the  plaintive 
notes  of  the  nightingale  ;  but  at  others  in  the  cheerful  strains  of  the  lark." 

In  another  letter  he  observes,  that  he  ranges  from  one  subject  to  another,  without 
confining  Umielf  to  any  partkular  task ;  and  that  he  was  employed  one  week  upoa 
one  atte^ipt,  and  the  next  upon  another. 

Surely  the  fiirtitttde  of  this  man  deserves,  at  least,  to  be  mentioned  with  applause ; 
ind,  whatever  faults  may  be  imputed  to  him,  the  virtue  of  suffering  well  cannot  be 
denied  him.  The  two  powers  which,  in  the  opinion  of  Epictetus,  constituted  a  wise 
man,  are  those  of  bearing  and  forbearing ;  which  it  cannot  indeed  be  affirmed  to  have 
been  equally  possessed  by  Savage;  and  indeed  the  want  of  one  obl%ed  him  very  fre* 
quently  to  practise  the  other. 

He  was  treated  by  Mr.  Dagge,  the  keeper  of  the  prison,  with  great  humanity ;  wa 
supported  by  him  at  his  own  table,  without  any  certainty  of  recompense ;  had  w 
room  to  himself,  to  which  he  could  at  any  time  retire  from  all  disturbance ;  was 
allowed  to  stand  at  the  door  of  the  prison,  and  sometimes  taken  out  into  the  fields^^; 
$o  that  he  suffered  fewer  hardships  in  prison  than  he  had  been  accustomed  to  undergo 
m  the  greatest  part  of  his  life. 

The  keeper  dki  not  confine  his  benevolence  to  a  gentle  execution  of  hb  office,  but 
made  some  overtures  to  the  creditor  for  his  release,  though  without  effect ;  and  con* 
tmued,  during  the  whole  time  of  his  imprisonni^t,  to  treat  him  with  the  utmost  ten- 
derness and  civility. 

Virtue  is  undoubtedly  most  laudable  in  that  state  which  makes  it  most  difficult: 
and  therefote  the  humanity  of  a  gaoler  certainly  deserves  this  public  attestation ;  and 
the  man,  whose  heart  has  not  been  hardened  by  such  an  employment,  may  be  justly 
proposed  as  a  pattern  of  benevolence.  If  an  inscription  was  once  engraved  **  to  the 
honest  toU-ga|herer,T  less  honours  ought  not  to  be  paid  *'  to  the  tender  gaoler.'' 

Mr.  Savage  very  frequently  received  visits,  and  sometimes  preseub  frofaa  his  acquaioh 
lances;  but  they  dki  not  amount  to  a  subsistence,  for  the  greater  part  of  which  he 
was  indebted  to  the  generosity  of  this  keeper ;  but  these  favours,  however  they 
nigfat  endear  to  him  the  particular  persons  from  whom  he  received  them,  were  very 
fax  from  impressing  upon  his  mind  any  advantageous  ideas  of  the  people  of  BristoU 
and  therefore  he  thoi^t  he  could  not  more  properly  employ  himself  in  prison,  thaii 
)a  writmg  a  poem  called  London  and  Bristol  delineated  ^. 

».  See  thSiconfinned,  Gent  Mag.  t6LLVn.ll4a    K 

^  The  Autbor  preferred  this  title  to  that  of  LoodoA  and  Bri#Ql  tooptred  i  whicbft  wlimlitf  b% 
fVittepftBCc^l^iliteaM  to  prefix  to  itr    Dr./^ 


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494  LIFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

When  he  had  brought  this  poem  to  its  present  state,  which,  without  considering  tiie 
chasm,  is  not  perfect,  he  wrote  to  London  an  account  of  hit  design,  and  informed  Vk 
friend  ^^  that  be  was  determined  to  print  it  with  bis  name ;  but  enjoined  him  not  i^ 
communicate  his  intention  to  his  Bristol  acquaintance.  The  gentiehian,  surprised  ttl 
his  resolution,  endeavoured  to  dissuade  him  from  publishing  it,  at  least  from  prefixiiiig 
his  name ;  and  declared,  that  be  could  not  reconcile  the  injunction  of  secrecy  with 
tiis  resolution  to  own  it  at  its  first  appearance.  To  this  Mr.  Savage  returned  an  answer, 
agreeable  to  his  character,  in  the  following  terms : 

^*  I  received  yours  this  morning ;  and  not  w^bout  a  little  surprne  at  the  contents. 
To  answer  a  question  with  a  question,  you  ask  nie,  concerning  London  and  Briaftol, 
why  will  I  add  delineatedl  Why  did  Mr.  Woolaston  add  the  same  word  to  his 
Keligion  of  Nature?  I  suppose  that  it  was  his  will  and  pleasure  to  add  it  in  his  case ; 
and  it  is  mine  to  do  so  in  my  own.  You  are  pleased  to  tell  me,  that  you  understand 
iiot  why  secrecy  is  enjoined,  and  yet  I  intend  to  set  my  name  to  it.  My  answer  is — 
I  have  my  private  reasons,  which  I  am  not  obliged  to  explain  to  any  one.    Yon  doubt 

my  fitend  Mr.  S ^*  would  not  approve  of  it — And  what  is  it  to  me' whether  he 

does  or  not  ?  Do  you  imagine  that  Mr.  S is  to  dictate  to  me  1  If  any  roan  who 

calls  himself  my  friend  should  assume  such  an  air,  I  would  spurn  at  his  friendship  wiA 
contempt.  You  say,  I  seem  to  think  so  by  not  letting  him  know  it — ^And  suppose  -I 
do.  What  then  I  Perhaps  I  can  give  reasons  for  that  disapprobation,  very  foreign  from 
what  you  would  imagine.  You  go  on  in  sayii^g,  Suppose  I  should  not  put  my  name 
to  it — My  answer  is,  that  I  will  not  suppose  any  such  thing,  being  determmed  to  the 
Contrary :  neither,  sir,  would  I  have  you  suppose,  that  1  applied  to  you  for  want  of 

anotlier  press :  nor  would  I  have  you  imagine,  that  I  owe  Mr.  S obligations  which 

l^onot" 

Such  was  his  imprudence,  and  such  his  obstinate  adherence  to  his  6wn  resohitibns, 
however  absurd !  A  prisoner !  supported  by  charity !  and,  whatever  insults  he  might 
have  received  during  the  latter  part  of  his  stay  at  Bristol,  once  caressed,  esteemed,  and 
presented  with  a  liberal  collection,  he  cquld  forget  on  a  snddeq  his  danger  and  his  ob- 
ligations, to  gratify  the  petulance  of  hi$  wit,  or  the  eagerness  of  his  resentment,  and 
publish  a  satire^  by  which  he  might  reasonably  expect  that  he  should  alienate  tb^e 
who  then  supported  him,  and  provoke  those  whom  he  could 'neither  resist  nor 
escape. 

This  resolution,  from  the  execution  of  whiph  it  U  probable  thatttnly  his  deitlbcouM 
have  hindered  him,  is  sufficient  to  show,  how  much  he  disregarded  all  considenrfidos 
that  opposed  his  present  passions,  and  how  readily  he  hazarded  all  future  advantages 
for  any  inunediate  gratifications.  Whatever  was  his  predominant  inclination,  neither 
hope  nor  fear  hindered  him  fjrom  complying  with  it ;  nor  had  opposition  any  other 
effect  than  to  heighten  his  ardour,  and  irritate  his  Vehemence. 

This  perfbrmance  was  however  laid  aside,  while  he  was  employed  in  soliciting  ilahnt- 
ance  from  several  great  pefsons ;  and  one  intemititidn  succeeding  another,  hindered 
him  from  supplying  the  chasm,  afld  perhaps  from  letouching  the  other  {NUts»  which  h» 

*■     *  *  <»  This  friend  was  Mr.  Cave  the  printer.    iV; 

^  Mr.  Strong,  of  the  pQst-of&ce.    N. 


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LIFE  OF  SAVAGE.  f9^ 

ttm  iiafdly  be  imagined  to  have  fioisbed  in  his  own  opinioii ;  for  it  is  very  unequal, 
9Im1  ioae  of  the  lines  are  rather  inserted  to  rhyme  to  others,  than  to  support  or  im* 
pfove  the  sense ;   but  the  first  and  kst  parts  are  worked  up  with  great  spirit  and 


His  time  was  spent  in  the  prison  for  the  most  part  in  study,  or  in  receiving  visits; 
but  sometimes  he  descended  to  lower  amusements,  and  diverted  himself  in  the  kitchen 
with  the  conversation  of  the  criminals;  for  it  was  not  pleasing  to  him  to  be  much  with* 
^kA  company  ;^and,  though  he  was  very  capable  of  a  judicious  choice,  he  was  often 
contented  with  the  first  that  ofi^ed ;  for  this  he  was  sometimes  reproved  by  his  fri|ends 
wheloMod  him  surrounded  with  felons:  but  the  reproof  was  on  that,  as  on  other  oc- 
casions, thrown  away;  he  oootinued  to  gratify  himself,. and  to  set  very  little  valu^  on 
the  .tpimoki  of  others. 

But  here,  as  in  every  other  scene  of  his  life,  he  made  use  of  such  opportunities  as 
occmfned  of  benefiting  those  who  were  more  miserable  than  himself^  and  was  always 
ready  to,  perform  any  office  of  humanity  to  hb  feUew-prisoners. 

He  b|id  now  ceased  from  corresponding  with  any  of  his  subscribers  except  one,  who 
yti  contiaued  to  remit  him  the  twenty  pounds  a-year  which  he  had  promise^  him,  and 
by  whom  it  was  expected  that  he  would  have  been  in  a  very  short  time  enlarged,  be* 
canse  be  had  directed  the  keeper  to  inquire  after  the  state  of  his  debts. 

However,  he  took  care  to  enter  his  name  according  to  the  forms  of  the  court^^,  that 
the  creditor  might  b^  obliged  to  make  him  some  allowance,  if  he  was  continued  a 
priaoner,  and,  when  on  that  occasion  he  appeared  in  the  hall,  was  treated  with  very 
uiusual  respect. 

But  the  resentment  of  the  city  was  afterwards  raised  by  some  accounts  that  had 
been  spread  of  the  satire ;  and  he  was  uiformed  that  some  of  the  merchants  intended 
to  pay  the  allowance  which  the  law  required,  and  to  detain  him  a  prisoner  at  their 
mm  eapense.  This  he  treated  as  an  emp^  menace;  and  pechaps  might  have  hastened 
the  pobtication,  only  to  sliow  how  much  he  was  superior  to  their  insults,  had  not  all 
his  aelKmea  been  suddenly  destroyed. 

When  he  had  been  six  months  in  prisoiu  he  received  from  one  Qf  his  friends^,  in 
whose  kindness  he  had  the  greatest  confidence,  and  on  whose  assistance  he  chiefly  de- 
peaded^  a  letter,  that  contained  a  charge  of  v^  atrocious  ingratitude,  drawn  up  m 
4uch  terms  as  sudden  resentment  dictated.  Henley,  in  one  of  hb  advertisements,  had 
mentiooed  "  Pope's  trealipent  of  Sa.vage.''  Thb  was  supposed  by  Pope  to  be  the 
consequence  of  a  complaint  made  by  Savage  to  Henley,  and  was  therefore  mentioned 
by  him  with  much  resentment  Mr.  Savage  returned  a  very  solemn  protestation  of 
hb  innocence,  but  however  appeared  much  disturbed  at  the  accusation.  Some  days 
aftenraida  he  was  seised  with  a  pain  m  hb  back  and  side,  which,  as  it  was  not  violent^ 
was  not  suapected  to  be  dangerous;  but  growing  daily  more  languid  and  dejected,  on 
the  £5th  of  My  he  confined  himself  to  hb  room,  and  a  fever  seized  hb  spirits.  The 
aymploms  grew  every  day  more  formidable,  but  hb  <^ndition  did  not  enable  him  to 

«  S^  Gent  Mag.  toL  LVIL  1040.    M 

-^  Bffr.  Pope.    See  Mtne  evtnettoC  letten  from  that  gentleman  to  and  coDceniing  tfr.  Sav^^e,  in 
Baffbeaifi  Uk  of  tVyc,  9. 50g.    B. 


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igS  LIFE  OF  SAVAGE. 

procure  any  assistance.    The  last  time  that  the  keeper  saw  him  was  on  Joly  the  SIsC 

17^3',  when  Savage,  seeing  him  at  his  bed-sjde»  said,  with  an  dncommon  eaimjUma^ 

^  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  sir ;"  hut,  after  a  pause,  moved  his-  hand  in  a  am* 

lancholy  manner ;  and,  findmg  himself  unable  to  recollect  what  he  was  going  to 

municate,  said,  **  Tis  gone  T  The  keeper  soon  after  left  him ;  «nd  Hie  next 

he  died.     He  was  buried  in  the  church-yard  of  St.  Peter,  at  the  expeose  of  the 

keeper. 

Such  was  the  life  and  death  of  Richard  Savage,  a  man  equally  distinguished  hy  Ui 
virtues  and  vices ;  and  at  once  remarkable  for  hb  weakness  and  abilities. 

He  was  of  a  middle  stature,  of  a  thin  habit  of  body,  a  long  visage,  couse 
features,  and  melancholy  aspect;  of  a  grave  and  nkmly  deportment,  a  solemn  digirity 
of  mien,  but  which,  upon  a  nearer  acquaintance,  softened  into  an  engaging  eaamOB  of 
ithanbers.  His  walk  was  slow,  and  his  voice  tremulous  and  mournful*  He  was  easily 
excited  to  smiles,  but  very  seldom  provoked  to  laughter. 

tiis  mind  was  in  an  uncommon  degree  vigorous  and  active.  Hb  jndgmeat  was  ae« 
curate,  hb  apprehension  quick,  and  his  memory  so  tenacious,  that  be  was  freqae^dy 
observed  to  know  what  he  bad  learned  from  others,  in  a  short  time,  better  tlmn  tfaoae 
by  whom  he  was  informed ;  and  could  frequently  recollect  incidents,  with  all  their 
combination  of  circumstances,  which  few  would  have  regarded  at  the  present  time,  bat 
which  the  quickness  of  his  apprehension  impressed  upon  him.  He  had  the  peculiar 
felicity  that  hb  attention  never  deserted  him ;  he  was  present  to  every  otigect,  and  re- 
gardful of  the  most  trifling  occurrence^.  He  had  the  art  of  escaping  from  hb  owb  le^ 
flections,  and  accommodating  himself  to  every  new  scene. 

To  thb  quality  b  to  be  imputed  the  extent  of  hb  knowledge,  compared  with  the 
small  time  which  he  spent  in  visible  endeavours  to  acquire  it  He  mingled  in  cursory 
conversation  with  the  same  steadiness  of  attention  as  others  appl^  to  a  lecture ;  and 
amidst  the  appearance  of  thoughtleii;  gaiety,  lost  no  new  idea  that  was  started,  nor  any 
hint  that  could  be  improved.  He  had  therefore  made  in  coflfee-honses  the  same  pn>- 
liciency  as  others  in  their  closets :  and  it  is  remarkable,  that  the  writrngs  of  a:  nan  of 
little  education  and  little  reading  have  an  air  of  leammg  scarcely  to  be  found  in  any 
other  performances,  but  which  perhaps  as  often  obscures  as  embellishes  them. 

Hb  judgment  was  eminently  exact  both  with  regard  to  writings  and  to  men.  The 
knowledge  of  life  was  indeed  his  chief  attainment ;  and  it  is  not  without  soma  satisfiio- 
tion,  that  I  can  produce  the  suffra,Q;e  of  Savage  in  favour  of  human  nature,  of  which 
he  never  appeared  to  entertain  such  odk>us  ideas  as  some,  Who  perhaps  had  neither 
hb  judgment  nor  experience,  have  published,  either  in  ostentation  of  their  sagadty, 
vindication  of  their  crimes,  or  gratification  of  their  malice. 

Hb  method  of  life  particularly  qualified  him  for  conversation,  of  which  be  hnewhow 
to  practise  all  the  graces.  He  was  never  vehement  or  loud,  but  at  once  nedeat  and 
easy,  open  and  respectful;  bis  language  was  vivacious  and  elegant,  and  oqnaHy  happy 
upon  grave  or  humorous  subjects.  He  was  generally  censured  for  notkoowiDg  when 
to  retire;  but  that  was  not  the  defect^ofhb  judgment,  but  of  hb  fortune:  when  he 
left  hb  company,  he  was  fi^uently  to  spend  the  remaining- part  of  the  night  in  4he 
street,  or  at  least  was  abandoned  to  gk>omy  reflections,  which  it  b  not  strange  that  he 
delayed  as  long  as  he  could ;  and  sometimes  forgot  that  he  gave  others  paia  to  aaoj^ 
H  himself. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


LIFE  OP  SAVAGE.  "  f^ 

tt  caanotbe  mi,  Ifiat  he  nmde  use  of  hk  abilities  for  the  direction  of  his  own  eon« 
Aict;  an  irregular  and  dissipated  manner  of -life  had  made  him  the  slave  of  every  pas* 
lion  that  happened  to  be  excited  by  the  pfesence  of  its  object,  and  that  slavery  to  his 
pasrions  stdprocally'j[>rodaced  a  life  irregnkr  aad  dissipated.  He  was  not  master  of 
las  own  motions,  nor  eoiild  promise  any  thing  lor  the  next  day. 

With  regard  to  hb  economy,  nothing  can  be  added  to  the  relation  of  his  life*  He 
appeared  to  think  himself  bom  to  be  sa|HK>rted  by  others,  and  dispensed  from  all  ne* 
oessity  of  providing  for  himself ;  he  tiMltefore  never  prosecuted  uiy  sdmne  of  advan- 
tage, nor  endeavoured  even  to  secure  the  profits  which  his  writings  might  have  afford- 
ed htm.  His  temper  was,  in  consequence  of  the  dommion  of  his  passions,  imr^rfBin 
and  capricious;  he  was  eanly  engaged,  and  easily  disgusted ;  but  he  is  accused  of  re- 
taining his  hhtred  more  tenaciously  than  his^  l»enevolence. 

He  was  compassionate  l>otii  by  nature  and  principle,  and  always  ready  to  perfonn 
offices  of  humanity;  but  when  be  was  provoke,  (and  very  small  ofiences  were  suffideat 
to  provoke  him)  hef  would  prosecute  his  revenge  wkh  the  utmost  acrimony  till  his  pas* 
flion  had  subnded. 

His  friendship  was  therefore  of  litde  value;  for,  though  he  was  zealoas  in  the  sup. 
port  or  vindication  of  ^ose  whom  he  loved,  yet  H  was  ahvays  dangerous  to  tmst  him^ 
because  he  conndered  himself  as  disdbarged  by  the  first  quarrel  from  aH  ties  of  honouf 
or  gratitude ;'  and  would  betray  those  secrets  which  m  the  warmth  of  confidence  had 
been  imparted  ko  him.  This  practice  drc^  upon  him  an  universal  aocnsa^n  of  m- 
gratitnde :  nor  can  ft  be  denied  that  he  was  very  ready  to  set  himself  free  from  the  loa^  of 
an  obligation ;  for  he  could  not  bear  to  conceive  hidsself  in  a  state  of  dependence,  hk 
pride  being  equally  powerful  with  his  other  passions,  and  appearing  m  the  form  of  in- 
solence at  one  time,  and  of  vanity  at  another.  Vanity;  the  most  innocent  species  of 
pride,  was  most  fVequently  predommant:  he  could  not  easily  leave  off,  when  he  had 
once  begun  to  mention  himself  or  his  works;  nor  ever  read  his  verses  without  stealing 
his  eyes  from  the  page,  to  discovei*  in  the  faces  of  his  audience,  bow  they  were  aflfeded 
with  any  favotirite  passage.  ' 

A  kinder  name  than  that  of  vanity  ought  to  be  given  to  the  delicacy  vnlh  which  he 
was  always  careful  to  separate  his  own  merit  from  every  other  man's^  and  to  reject 
that  praise  to  which  he  had  no  claim.  He  did  not  forget,  m  nieatioiih^  Us  perfor-. 
mances,  to  mai^  every  line  that  had  been  si^^gestedbrauMmded;  and  was  soaocorate^ 
as  to  relate  that  he  owed  three  words  m  The  Wanderer  to  tlie  advice  of  his 
friends. 

His  veracity  was  questioned,  but  with  little  reason ;  his  accounts,  though  not  indeecf 
always  the  same,  were  generally  consistent  When  he  loved  any  man,  he  suppressed 
all  his  faults :  and,  when  he  had  been  ofiended  by  him,  couched  all  his  virtues :  but 
his  characters  were  generally  true,  so  far  as  he  proceeded ;  though  it  cannot  be  denied^ 
that  his  partiality  might  have  sometimes  the  efiect  of  falsehood. 

In  cases  indifferent,  he  was  zealous  for  virtue,  truth,  and  justice :  he  knew  very  well 
the  necessity  of  goodness  to  the  present  and  future  happiness  of  mankind;  nor  is  there 
perhaps  any  writer,  who  has  less  endeavoured  to  please  by  flattering  the  appetites,  or 
perverting  the  judgment. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


Jlj}8  Lira;  OF  SAVA<»E. 

As^an  andmiv  tkevefore,  wad  he  now  ceasear  to  iofliieiice  maakoKl  in  ao^  oUier  dm- 
ncter,  if  one  piece  whkb  be  faad  resolved  to  mi^ppress  be  excepb^,  he  has  ruy  Wk 
to  fear  from  tbe  strictest  moral  or  religioiis  censure.  And  tlougb  be  may  net  bi 
idtageAer  secme  against  Ibe  otyeHionsofl^  critic,  it  must  Imverer  be  ackimwleilged, 
that  bis  works,  are  the  preduotians  of  a  genias  teuly  jpoetical ;  apd«  what  many  fHttem 
j/Kko  have  been  raoKs  kmsUy  applauded  canDot  im4,  that  tbey  bave  an  oogiMi  air, 
wbi<%  has  dotfasranblailBe  of  any  for^gfiog  wiflter,  that  tbe  Tersificatioa  and  sfalimeali 
We^  cast  peeatiar  to  Ibemsehos^  which  no  man  can'  imitate  with  success,  because 
w4iat wasnatMe  in  Satage  w^fuM  ^  aimlber  be  affi^tation*  tt  must  be  confeasec^ 
that.  hiS'desori|ilien»are  striUag,  Ui^iautges  animated,  his  fictions  justly  unagined,  and 
hm  MegMiestartfiilly .pursued;  that  his  diction  is  elevated,  thou^  sometimes  lbreed» 
and  his  numbers  sonorous  and  n^|ODt^c,^  timtigb  ftequently  sluggish  and  encmnbcved 
Of  bis^yte,ibe  geoeml-fafedl  is  hai«baaBS,,and  its  general  excellence  is  dignity;  of  his 
nodmiBaH  ^«  prevailiag  beaaty  is  shiipli<i^  and  imifennity  the  prevailiiig,defect. 
.  jfor  Idiilife^iiar  farbis  wfi(ii(vooiie,  wbo  mididly  consider  his  fortune,  will  tiuak 
an  apology  either  necessary  or  difficult.  If  he  was  not  always  sufficiently  instmcted 
-an  hi»  iul^ect,  his  knowledge'  was  at  least prealer.  than  could*  have  been  attained-  by 
jalhen  int  the  saaie  stale,  if  his  wiaks  wtft  sometimes  unfinished,  accuracy  cannot 
tMBeoBbly  be  exacted  fmna  man  oppresnd  wih  want;  which  he  has  no  hope  of  i^ 
liefing  but  by  a  speedy  publication.  Tbe  insolence  and  resentment  of  which  he  is 
«ocased(Were  not  easily  tO' be. avoided  by.<fi  great. mind,  irritated  -by , perpetual  hant 
abips^  and  constminedfaoutly  to  return  Ibe  spurns  of  ctatempt,  and  rq>ress  the  inso- 
knee  of|)0O8perity;  and  vaiAy may  suwiy  be  veadiljf  pardoned  in.  him,  to  whom 
Jife  affiinbd>nO'<Hber  comfeits  than  barren  praises,  aoid  the  consciousness  of  deserving 
them. 

.  Those  anrno  proper  ^jtidya  of  his  conduct  who  have  slumbered  away  their  time  on 
the^dowtt'of  |ilenty  i.  nor  wilkany  wise  man  pi^stupe  JU>  aay,  **  Had  I  been  in  Savage's 
jOOMtttmn,  i'sbottU'bafre  lived  or,  written  better  tban  Savage." 

This  relation  will  not  be  wholly  without  its  use,  if  those,  who  languish  4inder  any 
|itii«of  bis  aafienBgs^.shali*be  enaUed^to*  fortify  thehr  patience,  byrejjli^ptingtbat  tbey 
^edionly  tfaaae  ittialions fionb which- tile  abiVties of  Sa(vs)ge  did  not  tuffpopi  him;  or 
4hiise,iwha,  ittinsiidMoe'of^sup»iorcapaoitir5  o^attajnmenta^disrfgaided  the  common 
jdaxiffiavfdife^  shall  be  rtminded,  tbai^notbmg  '^ill*  supply  the  want  of  prudence; 
«Ad)  that:  negligittice*  and*  inegldaiity,  long  eantinued* .  VNill  make  kaowlo^ge  .uaelesi^ 
wit  ridiculous,  and  genius  contemptible. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ IC* 


to  THE  RtcnT  HONO0BABL2 

JOHN  LORD  VISCOUNT  TYRCONNEt* 

Bmdh  OutUviLLs,  ntvlLoid  BaowNcowx,  Knight  of  the  Bmto. 

My  Lord, 

X  ART  of  this  poem  Tiad  the  honour  of  yoar  Lordship's  perusal  when  in 
manuscript ;  and  it  was  iio  small  pride  to  me,  when  it  met  with  approbation 
from  so  distinguishing  a  judge :  should  the  rest  find  the  like  indulgence, 
I  shall  have  no  occasion  (whatever  its  success  may  be  in  the  world)  to  re-* 
pent  the  labour  it  has  cost  me — But  my  intention  is  not  to  pursue  a  discourse 
on  my  own  performance;  no,  my  lord,  it  is  to  embrace  this  opportunity 
of  throwing  out  sentiments  that  relate  to  your  lordship^s  goodness,  the 
generosity  of  which,  give  me  leave  to  say,  I  have  greatly  experienced. 

1  offer  it  not  as  a  new  remark,  that  dependance  on  the  great,  in  former 
times,  generally  terminated  in  disappointment;  nay,  even  their  bounty  (if 
it  could  be  called  such)  was,  in  its  very  nature,  ungenerous.  It  was,  per- 
haps, with-held,  through  an  indolent  or  wilful  neglect,  till  those  who  lingered 
in  the  want  of  it,  grew  almpst  past  the  sense  of  comfort.  At  length  it  came, 
too  often,  in  a  manner  that  half  cancelled  the  obligation,  and,  perchance, 
must  have  been  acquired  too  by  some  previous  act  of  guilt  in  the  receiver, 
the  consequence  of  which  was  remorse  aod  infamy. 

But  that  I  live,  my  lord,  is  a  proof  that  dependance  on  your  lordship,  and 
the  present  ministry,  is  an  assurance  of  success.  I  am  persuaded,  <listress, 
in  many  other  instances,  affects  your  soul  with  a  compassion,  that  always 
shows  itself  in  a  manner  most  humane  and  active ;  that  to  forgive  injuries,  and 
confer  benefits,  is  your  delight ;  and  that  to  deserve  your  friendship  is  to 
deserve  the  countenance  of  the  best  of  men.  To  be  admitted  into  the  ho- 
nour of  your  lordship's  conversation  (permit  me  to  speak  but  justice)  is  to 
be  elegantly  introduced  into  the  most  instructive,  as  well  as  entertaining, 
parts  of  literature ;  it  is  to  be  furnished  with  the  finest  observations  upon 
human  nature,  and  to  receive,  from  the  most  unassuming,  sweet,  and  win- 
ning candour,  the  worthiest  and  most  polite  maxims— such  as  are  always 
enforced  by  the  actions  of  your  own  life.  I  could  also  take  notice  of  your 
many  public-spirited  services  to  your  country  in  parliament,  and  your 
constant  attachment  to  liberty,  and  the  royal,  illustrious  house  of  our  most 
gracious  sovereign ;  but  my  lord,  believe  me,  your  own  deeds  are  the 
noblest  and  fittest  orators  to  speak  your  praise,  and  will  elevate  it  far  beyond 
the  power  of  a  much  abler  writer  than  I  am.. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


iOO  DED1CATI019. 

I  will  therefore  turn  my  view  from  your  iordship^s  virtues  to.  the  kind 
influence  of  them,  which  has  been  so  lately  shed  upon  me ;  and  then,  if  my 
future  morals  and  writings  shall  gain  any  approbation  from  men  of  parts  and 
probity,  I  must  acknowledge  all  to  be  the  product  of  your  lordship's  good- 
ness to  me.    I  must,  in  fine,  say  with  Horace^ 

Quod  wpitOf  &  ^aoeo»  (a  placeo)  tuum  est 

I  am,  with  the  highest  gratitade  and  veneration* 
my  lord, 
your  lordship's  most  dutiful 
'and  devoted  servant. 


SicBARD  Savage. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


POEMS 


or 


RICHARD  SAVAGE. 


A  VISION. 

m   FIVE   CAVTOt. 

^9n\la  mail  nonrm  ml  fiiciet  iixiiNiiair«  mrflt 

Virf. 
CANTO    I. 


T  AIN  wooMinyvene^TyrcoDiiel,  boMt  thy 
Brovnkywe,  at  once  my  futiject  and  my  fttoM ! 
Ob !  eould  that  spirit,  which  thy  boiom  «aniif» 
Whose  strength  surprises,  and  vhoaa  goodness 

charms! 
That  Tariotts  worth  !  could  that  inspire  my  lays, 
Cory  should  smile,  and  Censure  learn  to  praise  i 
Yet,  though  unequal  to  asoul  like  thine, 
A  generous  sool,  approorfaing  to  divine, 
liVben  ble8B*d  bennah  such  patronage  I  write, 
Oreat  my  attempt,  though  baaardoos  my  ilight 

Cer  ample  Natuve  I  extend  my  views ; 
Mature  to  rural  scenes  invitesthe  Muse : 
Bbe  flies  all  public  care,  all  venal  strife. 
To  try  the  still,  compar'd  with  active  lifjp ; 
To  prove,  by  these  the  sons  of  men  may  owe 
The  firuits  c4r  bliss  to  bursting  clouds  of  woe; 
Thatev'n  calamity,  by  thought  refined, 
Inspirits  and  adorns  the  thinking  mind. 

Come,  Contemplation,  whose  uubonnded  gax0i 
awiit  in  a  glance,  the  coune  of  things  sttrveys } 
Who  in  thyself  the  various  view  canst  And 
Of  sea,  land,  air,  and  heaven,  and  human-kind  $ 
Whaft  tides  of  passion  in  the  bosom  roll ; 
What  thottgfato  debase,  and  what  esak  the  soul, 
Whose  peacii  paints,  obsequious  to  thr  will, 
▲n  tbousurvey'it,  with  a  creative  skill  I 
Ph!  ,l^ve  awhile  thy  lov'd,  sequestered  shade ! 
Awhile  in  wintery  wilds  vouchaaM  thy  aid  t 
Vlien  waft  me  to  some  olive,  bowery  green^ 
Where,  doath'd  in  white, thou show'stamind  serene  j 
Whflore  kind  Content  front  noise  and  court  retires^ 
jknd  sauUngiJt^  whik^^Cueee  tune  their  Iffei: 


Where  ZcphyregeMlybreatfae»  while  Sleeppfoftwi4 
To  their  soft  fiumhig  nods,  with  poppies  crownM; 
Sleep,  ona  treasure  of  bright  dreams  reolhws. 
By  thee  bestowed;  whepoe  Fsncy  coloor'd  shinea. 
And  flutters  round  his  brow  a  hovering  flight. 
Varying  her  plumes  in  visknary  light. 

TiMy  solar  flree  now  iaint  and  watery  buni» 
Juft  where  with  kse  Aqpariue  firets  his  um  1 
If  thawed,  forth  issue»  from  its  mouth  severe. 
Raw  clouds,  that  endden  all  th*  inverted  year. 

Wbetf  Frost  and  Fire  with  martial  poweis  eniag'4» 
Fh)st,  northward,  fled  the  war,  onequal  wmg*d  I 
Beneath  the  pola  his  legions  «g>4  tbeir  flight. 
And  gain*d  a  cave  profound,  and  wide  as  night.. 
0*er  cheertese  scenes  by  Desolatkin  own^d» 
High  00  an  Alp  of  k!e  he  Kts  enthfoned ! 
One  9lay-coVi  band,  hit  crystal  beard  suttaine, 
And  soeptared  one.  o'er  wind  and. tempest  vngQi^ 
0*er  stony  magaames  of  hail,  that  storm  "^ 

The  blossooi'd  fruit,  and  flowery  Spring  deform. 
His  laogukl  eyes  like  frozen  lakes  appear, 
Dim  gleaming  aOthe  light  that  wanders  here. 
I  Hie  robe  snow«wnNight,L  end.  hoar'd  with  age|  hii 
breath 
A  oitroeadamn,  that  strikes  pelrific  deeth« 

Far  hence  ll«^  ever-freez'd,  the  northern  qiain» 
That  checks,  and  renders  navigation  vain, 
That,  i^ut  against  the  Sun's  dissolving  ray, 
3catterB  the  trembUng  tkies  of  vanquishM  day. 
And  stretching  eastward  half  the  world  secure^ 
Defies  disGOfery,  and  like  time  endures ! 

Nov  Froit  sent  boreal  blasts  to  scourge  the  air, 
To  bind  the  streams,  and  leave  the  landecape  base ) 
Yet  when.  Our  west,  bis  vnlenee  declines. 
Though  here  the  brook,  or  hdie,  his  power  oonflneei 
To  rocky  pools,  to  cataracts  are  unknown 
His  chains !— to.rivers,  rapid  like  the  Rhonel 

The  foiling  Moon  cast,  cold,  a  quivering  light. 
Just  silver'd  o'er  the  snow,  and  sunk !— pale  Nigh! 
Retired.   The  dawn  m light-grey  mists aroae! 
Shrill  chants  the  cock  1— the  hungry  heifer  fows  I 
Slow  bhish  von  breaking  cloads;-p-the  Son*s  uproU'd  % 
Th*  e^fpaosive  grey  turns  exuic^  chas'd  «ittL|M^| ' 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


d02 


SAVAGE'S  POEMS. 


Wlutft-glitterifigioe,cbang'd  like  the  topaz,  gleams, 
JSeflecting  saffroo  lustre  from  his  beams. 
^     O  ContemplatioD,  teach  roe  to  explore. 
From  Britain  far  remote,  some  distant  shore ! 
Worn  sleep  a  dream  distinct  and  lively  claim ; 
-     Clear  let  the  vision  strike  the  moral  8  aim ! 
It  comes !  I  feel  it  o*cr  my  soul  serene ! 
Still  Mom  begins,  and  Frost  retains  the  scene ! 

Hark ! — the  loud  hom*s  enlivening  note  *s  begmi ! 
IVom  rock  to  vale  sweet-wandering  echoes  ran  !* 
Still  floats  the  sound  shrilUwiiiding  from  afiir ! 
Wild  beasts  astoniibM  dread  the  sylvan  war! 
Spears  to  the  Sun  in  files  embattled  play, 
March  on,  charge  briskly,  and  enjoy  the  fray ! 

'Swans,  ducks,  and  geese,  and  the  wing'd  wmter* 
Chatter  discordant  on  yon  echoing  flood  !     f  brood, 
At  Babel  thus,  when  Heaven  the  tongue  confounds, 
Sudden  a  thousand  different  jargon  sounds. 
Like  jangling  bells,  hanih  mingling,  grate  the  ear  ! 
All  stare !  all  talk !  all  mean;  but  none  cohere ! 
Mark !  wiley  fowleis  meditate  their  doom,  [glocnn  ! 
And  smoky  Fate  speeds  thundermg  thrctigh   tha 
Stopped  short,  they  cease  in  airy  rings  to  fly, 
Whirl  o'er  and  o'er,  and,  fluttering,  fell  and  die. 

Still  Fancy  wafts  me  on !  deceived  I  stand, 
Estrang'd,  adventurous  on  a  foreign  land ! 
Wide  and  more  wide  extends  the  scene  unknown ! 
Where  shall  I  torn,  a  Wanderer,  and  alone } 

From  hilly  wUds,and  depths  wheresnoirs  remain, 
My  winding  steps  up  a  steep  mountain  stnun  ! 
Eaien*d  a-top,  I  mark,  the  hills  subside. 
And  towers  aspire;  but  with  inferior  pride! 
On  this  bleak  height  tall  firs,  with  ioe-work  crowned. 
Bend*  while  their  flaky  winter  shades  the  ground  ! 
Hoarse,  and  direct,  a  Uuaterrag  north-wind  blows ! 
On  boughs,  thick-rustling,  crack  the  crisped  snosrs  f 
Tangles  of  frost  half-frin^t  the  wilder*d  eye. 
By  heat  oft  Macken'd  like  a  lowering  sky !  *'  - 
Hence  down  the  side  two  turbid  rivulets  pour^ 
And  devious  two,  in  one  huge  cataract  roar  I 
While  pleas'd  the  watery  progress  I  pursue, 
Yon  rocks  in  rough  anemblage  rush  in  view! 
In  form  an  amphitheatre  they  rise ; 
And  M  dark  gulf  in  their  broad  centre  lies. 
These  the  dim'd  sight  with  dizzy  weakness  fails, 
And  honour  o*er  the  firmest  bnun  prevails ! 
Thither  these  mountain-streams  their  passage  take, 
Headlong  foam  down,  an(|  form  a  dreadful  kke  ! 
The  lake,  high-strellmg,  so  redundant  grows. 
From  the  heap*d  store  derived,  a  river  flows; 
Which,  deepenhig,  travels  thro*  a  distant  wood,       « 
Aui,  thenoe  emerging,  meki  a  sister-flood ; 
Mingied  they  flash  on  a  wide-openmg  plain, 
And  pass  yon  city  to  the  fer-seen  main. 

60  Mend  two  souls  by  Heaven  for  union  made, 
'  And  strengthening  forward,  lend  a  mutual  aid. 
And  pVQve  in  every  traasient  turn  their  aim, 
Through  finite  Fife  to  infinite  the  same. 

Kor  ends  the  laadfcape-^-Oceaa,  to  my  sight, 
.'Feints  a  bine  arm,  where  sailing  ships  delight. 
In  prospect  lessen'd !— Now  new  rocks,  rear*dhigh, 
jMch  aeross'ridge.attd  bar  tiie  curious  eye; 
There  Kes  obscur>d  the  ripening  diamond^s  ray, 
And  theoce.  red-branching  coral  *»  rent  away. 
In  conic  form  there  getid  crystal  grows ; 
Thro*  such  the  palace-lamp,  gay  lustre  throws ! 
Lustre,  which,  through  dim  night,  as  various  plays, 
Aspby  from  yonder  inows  the  cfaangeftil  rays ! 
For  nobler  use  the  crystal's  worth  may  rise* 
If  tttbet  panitectife  bem  the  spoltaf  priM  ^ 


Thro*  these  the  beams  of  the  fer-teogthenM  9ft 
Measure  known  stars,  and  new  resnoter  spy. 
Hence  Commerce  many  a  shortenM  voyage  sleef% 
ShortenM  to  months,  the  hazard  once  of  yean; 
Hence  Halley*s  soul  ethertal  flight  essays ; 
Instructive  there  from  orb  to  oirb  she  strays ; 
Sees,  round  ne#  countless  suns,  new  S3rst^aas  roO ! 
Sues  God  in  all !  and  magnifies  the  whole  ! 
Yon  rocky  side  enriched  the  summer  scene. 
And  peasants  search  for  herbs  of  healthful  green ; 
Now  naked,  pale,  and  comfortless  it  lies,. 
Like  youth  extended  cold  in  death's  disguise. 
There,  while  without  the  sounding  tempest  swells, 
IncavM  secure  th'  exulting  eagle  dwells; 
And  there,  when  Nature  owns  prolific  spring. 
Spreads  o'er  her  yoimg  a  fondling  mother's  wing. 
Swains  on  the  coast  the  fer-fem'd  fish  descry. 
That  gives  the  fleecy  robe  the  Tyrian  dye ; 
While  shells,  a  scattered  ornament  bestow. 
The  tinctured  rivals  of  the  showery  bow. 
Yon  limeless  sands,  loo^q-driving  with  the  wtiyl. 
In  future  cauldrons  useful  texture  find. 
Till,  on  the  furnace  thrown,  the  glowing  maai 
Brightens,  and  brightening  hardens  into  glaai. 
When  winter  halcyons,  flickeriog  on  the  wave. 
Tune  their  complaints,  yon  sea  forgets  to  lave; 
Though  lash'd  by  storms, which  naval  pride  o*ertun 
The  fbaming  deep  in  spariries  seems  to  burn. 
Loud  whids  turn  Zephyrs  to  cn'arge  their  notea. 
And  each  safe  net^t  on  a  calm  surface  floats. 

Now  veers  the  wind  full  east :  and  keen,  and  sore; 
Its  cutting  influence  aches  in  every  pore ! 
How  weak  thy  fabric,  man  !-^A  puff,  thus  blown^ 
Staggers  thy  strength,  and  echoes  to  thy  groan. 
A  tooth's  minutest  n^rve  let  anguish  seize. 
Swift  kindrod  fibres  catch !  <so  firail  our  ease !) 
Pinch'd,  piero*d,  and  torn,  inflamed,  and unassuag'd. 
They  smart,  and  swell,  and  throb,  and  shoot  enrag'd ! 
From  nerve  to  nerve  fierce  flies  th*  eanilting  pain ! 
^Andarewaof  this  mighty  fabric  vain?     fglidcs! 
Now  my  blood  chills !  scarce  through  my  veins  it 
Sure  on  each  blast  a  shivering  ague  rides; 
Warn'd  let  me  this  Ueak  eminence  foraake^ 
And  to  the  vale  a  diflwrent  winding  take  I 
Half  I  descend :  my  spirits  fest  decay  ; 
A  terrace  now  relieves  my  weaiy  way. 
Close  with  thb  stage  a precipioe  combines; 
Whence  still  the  spacious  country  for  decUnes ! 
The  herds  seem  insects  m  the  distant  glades,      • 
And  men  diminish^,  as,  at  noon,  their  shades  ! 
Thicken  this  top  o>rgrown  for  walks  are  seen 
Grey  leafless  wood,  and  winter-greens  between ! 
The  reddening  berry,  deep-ting'd  holly  shows. 
And  matted  mistletoe,  the  white,  bestows ! 
Though  lost  the  banquet  of  autumnal  fruits, 
Tho*  on  broad  oaksno  vernal  nmbrsge  shoots  I 
These  boughs,  the  silencM  shivering  songstera  aedtl 
These  ibod^  berries  fill  the  hoagiy  beak. 

Beneath  appears  a  place,  all  outward  bare. 
Inward  the  dreary  mansion  of  De^r ! 
The  water  of  the  mountain^road,  half-stra/d. 
Breaks  o*er  it  wild,  and  fells  a  brown  casosde. 

Has  Nature  this  roogfa,  naked  piece  deslgnVl, 
To  hoM  inhabitants  of  mortal  kind  ? 
She  has.    Approached,  appears  a  deep  descent^ 
Which  opens  in  a  rock  a  large  extent  * 
And  hai-k  !«-^  hollow  entrance  reach*d,  I  bear 
A  tramplmgaoond  of  fbotcfteps  hastenmg  near ! 
A  death-like  chSllneas  thwarts  my  panting  breast: 
Soft!  ifaewish'do^eot standi  at  kDfthcodbft! 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  WANDERBI^-Cakto  I. 


d(tt 


Of  Tovtfi  bWfonaf-^Biit^y  with  Mfiiish  bent  ? 
Wliy  pin'd  with  0iilow  iBorks  of  disconteiit  > 
Yet  Patieooe,  labouriDg  to  beguile  his'ccuw, 
SeenM  to  raise  hope,  and  smiles  awmy  despair. 
Coanpaasion,  in  bis  eye,  surveys  my  grief, 
And  in  bis  voice  iiivites  ine  to  relief. 
"  Preventive  of  thy  call,  behold  my  baste," 
(He  says,)  *'  nor  let  wann  thanks  thy  spirits  waste ' 
AH  fear  Ibrget^— Each  portal  1  possess. 
Doty  wide-^)eos  to  receive  distress.*' 
Oblig'd,  I  follow,  by  bis  guidance  led ; 
The  vaulted  roof  re-echoing  to  our  tread  I 
And  nom  in  squar'd  divisions,  I  survey 
Chambers  secjuester^d  firom  the  glare  of  day; 
Yet  needful  lights  are  taught  to  intervene, 
^llirougfa  riftS;  each  forming  a  perspecti\^  scene. 

!•  front  a  parioiir  meets  my  entering  view ; 
Opposed,  a  room  to  sweet  refection  due. 
Here  my  diill*d  veins  are  warm*d  by  chippy  fires. 
Through  the  bor'd  rock  above,  the  smoke  expires ; 
Kemt,  o'er  a  homely  bonrd,  a  napkin 's  spread, 
CYown*d  with  a  heapy  canister  of  bread. 
A  maple  cup  is  next  dispatched  tb  bring 
The  comfort  of  the  salutary  spring : 
Nor  mount  we  absent  blessings  of  the  vhie, 
Her$  laughs  a  frugal  bowl  of  rosy  wine; 
And  savoary  cates,  upon  clear  embers  cast, 
lie  hissing,  till  snatchM  off;  a  rich  repast ! 
Soon  leap  my  spirits  with  enlivened  power, 
A*id  in  gay  converse  glides  the  feastfol  hour* 

The  Hermit,  thus  :*<  Thou  wondePst  at  thy  fare : 
On  me.  yon  city,  kind,  bestows  her  care : 
M<*skt  for  keen  famine,  and  the  generous  juice. 
That  warms  chilPd  life,  her  charities  produce : 
Accept  without  reward ;  unask'd  'twas  mine; 
Here  what  thy  health  requires,  as  free  be  thine. 
Hence  learn  that  Goo,  (who  in  the  time  of  need, 
In  frozen  deserts  can  the  raven  feed) 
Well-sought ,  will  dele^re  some  pitying  breast. 
His  second  means,  to  iticco^  man  distresL" 
He  g^us'd.  Deep  thodghtupon  his  aspect  gloomM; 
'•  hen  he,with  smile  humane,  his  voice  resum'd. 
"  I'm  just  infoa^'d,  (aad  laugh  me  not  to  scorn) 
By  one  unseen^r  thee,  thou'rt  Rnglish-bom. 
Of  England  I— To  me  the  British  sUle 
Bises,  in  dear  Memorial,  ever  great ! 
Here  stand  we  conscious :— diffidence  suspend ! 
Free  flow  our  words !— Did  ne*er  thy  Muse  extend 
To  grots,  where  Contemplation  smiles  serene. 
Where  angels  visit,  and  where  joys  convene  ? 
To  groves,  where  more  than  mortal  voices  rise, 
Catch  the  rapt  soul,  and  waft  it  to  the  skies } 
This  cave! — ^Yoo  walks! — But,  e*re  I  more  unfold. 
What  aftfiil  scenes  thy  eyes  shall  here  behold. 
Think  subjects  of  my  toil :  nor  wondering  gaze  ! 
What  cannot  Industry  completely  raise  ? 
Be  the  whole  Earth  in  one  great  landscape  found. 
By  Industry  is  all  with  beauty  crowu'd  ! 
He,  be  akme,  explores  the  mine  for  gam. 
Hues  the  haid  rock,  or  harrows  up  the  plain; 
He  forms  the  sword  to  smite ;  he  sheaths  the  steel. 
Draws  healtiifrom  herbs,  and  shows  the  balm  to  heal; 
Or  with  Ioom*d  wool  the  native  robe  supplies ; 
Or  bids  young  plants  in  future  forests  rise ; 
Or  feOs  the-mdoarch  oak,  which,  borne  away, 
Shall,  with  new  grace,  the  distant  ocean  sway; 
Hence  goMen  Commerce  views  her  wealth  increase. 
The  blissfbl  child  of  liberty  and  Peaoa. 
He  tcoopi  the  stabbom  Alps,  and,  still  etfrnloyM^ 
¥111^  wUh  aoft  fertilriiioaki,  the  tlBril  Toid ; 


Slop'd  up  id)ite  rocks,  smaB,  j^Xhw  hitt^eslt  grow^ 
And,  green  on  teimc'd  stages,  vineyards  blow  \ 
By  him  fall  mountains  to  a  level  space. 
An  isthmus  sadu,  and  sunder'd  seas  emAwace  I 
He  founds  a  city  on  tite  naked  shoi^, 
And  desolation  starve^  the  tract  no  nsore. 
Prom  the  wiUl  waves  he  won  the  Belgic  land; 
Where  wide  they  foam*d,  faertownsandtrafficsstand; 
He  clear'd,  manur'd,  enlarged  the  fiiitive  ground, 
And  firms  the  conquest  with  his  fenoeftil  mound. 
Ev'n  mid  the  watery  work!  his  Venice  rose. 
Each  fabric  there,  as  Pleasure's  seat  he  shows ! 
There  marts,  sports,  councils,  are  for  action  sought^ 
Landscapes  for  health,  and  solitude  for  thought 
What  wonder  then,  I,  by  his  potent  aid, 
A  mansion  in  a  barren  mountain  made  ? 
Part  thou  hast  view'd  !— If  further  we  otpfore. 
Let  Industry  deserve  applause  the  more. 

"  No  frowning  care  yon  blest  apartment  sees. 
There  Sleep  retires,  and  finds  a  couch  of  ease. 
Kind  dreams,  that  fly  remorse,  and  pampered  wealth. 
There  shed  the  smiles  of  mnocence  and  health. 

"  Mark  I—Here  descends  a  grot,  delightftil  seat ! 
Which  warms  e*en  winter,  tempers  summer  heat ! 
See  ! -^Gurgling  from  a  top,  a  spring  distils ! 
In  mournful  measures  wmd  the  dripping  rills ; 
8oft  ooof  of  distant  doves,  recriv'd  around. 
In  soothing  mbcture,  swell  the  watery  sound ; 
And  hence  the  streamlets  seek  the  terrace*  shade, 
Within,  without,  alike  to  all  oonvejr'd. 
Pass  on^— New  scenes,  by  my  creative  power. 
Invite  Reflection's  swoet  and  solemn  hour.'* 

We  enter'd,  where,  in  well-rangM  order,  stood 
Th'  instructive  volumes  ti  the  wise  and  good. 
'*  These  friends"  (said  he)  "  though  I  desert  man- 
Good  angeb  never  wopld  permit  behind.         pdnd. 
Each  genhis,  youth  conceals,  or  thne  displays, 
I  know ;  each  work  some  seraph  here  oonveys. 
Retirement  thus  presents  my  ^earchfnl  thought. 
What  Heaven  inspired,  and  what  the  Muse  has  talight; 
What  Ybong  satiric  and  sublime  has  writ. 
Whose  life  is  virtue,  and  whose  Muse  is  wit. 
Rapt  I  foresee  thy  Mallet's  >  early  aim 
Shine  in  full  worth,  and^hoet  at  length  to  fome. 
Sweet  foncy's  bloom  in  Fenton's  hiy  appears. 
And  the  ripe  judgment  of  instractive  years. 
In  Hill  is  all  that  generous  souk  revere. 
To  Virtue  and  the  Muse  for  ever  dear : 
And  Thomson,  in  this  praise,  thy  merit  see. 
The  tongue,  that  praises  merit,  praises  thee."  [age, 

"  Those  scorn"  (said  I)  ^*  the  vene-wright  of  their 
Vain  of  a  laboured,  languid,  useless  page ; 
To  whose  dim  faculty  the  roeannig  song 
Is  glaring,  or  obscure,  when  clear,  and  strong ; 
Who,  in  cant  phrases,  gives  a  work  disgrace ; 
His  wit,  and  oddness  of  his  tone  and  face ; 
Let  the  weak  nuhce,  nurs'd  to  an  essay,  - 
In  some  low  libel  a  mean  heart  display ; 
Those,  who  once  prais'd,  now  undeceiv'd,  despise. 
It  lives  contemn'd  a  day,  then  harmless  dies. 
Or  should  some  nobler  bard,  their  worth,  unpraise, 
Deserting  morals,  that  adorn  his  lays, 
Alas  I  too  oft  each  science  shows  the  same. 
The  great  grow  jealous  of  a  greater  name: 
Ye  bards,  the  finulty  mourn,  yet  brave  the  shock  | 
Has  not  a  Stillmgfleet  oppos'd  a  Locke  ? 
Oh,  still  proceed,  with  sacred  rapture  fliM ! 
Unenvy'd  had  be  liv'd,  if  unadnuT'd." 

1  He  hdl  tb«|  jwtarrittffi  llie  EaniAiM. 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


804 


SAVAGE'S  POfitfS^ 


"  Lrt  EnT3r,»»  he  rcpfied,<*  all  ireful  rise, 
Bavy  pursues  alone  the  brave  and  wise ; 
Maro  and  Socrates  inn>ire  her  pain. 
And  Pope,  the  mooanm  of  the  tuneful  train  ! 
To  whom  be  Nature's,  and  Britannia's  praise ! 
An  their  bright  honours  rush  into  his  lajrs ! 
And  all  that  glorious  warmth  his  lays  reveal, 
Which  only  poets,  kings,  and  patriots  fed  ! 
Though  gay  as  mirth,  as  curious  thought  sedate. 
As  elegance  polite,  as  power  elate; 
Profound  as  reason,  and  as  justice  clear; 
Soft' as  compassion,  yet  as  truth  severe ; 
As  bounty  copious,  as  persuasion  sweet ; 
tike  Nature  various,  sad  like  Art  complete; 
So  fine  her  morals,  so  sublime  her  views. 
His  life  is  almost  equalled  by  his  Muse. 

"  O  Pope !— Since  Envy  is  decreed  by  Fate, 
Since  she  pursues  alone  the  wise  and  great; 
In  one  small,  emblematic  landscape  see, 
How  vast  a  distance  'twixt  thy  foe  and  thee ! 
Truth  from  an  eminence  survejrs  our  scene 
(A  hill,  where  all  is  clear,  and  all  serene). 
Rude  earth-bred  storms  o'er  meaner  valleys  blow. 
And  wandering  mists  roll,  blackening  for  below ; 
Bark,  and  debas'd,  like  them,  is  Envy's  aim. 
And  clear,  and  eminent,  like  Truth,  thy  fame." 

Thus  I.  *' From  what  dire  cause  can  Envy  spring? 
Or  why  embosom  we  a  viper's  sting  ? 
*Tis  Envy  stings  our  darling  passion,  pride.'* 
•*  Alas !»  (the  man  of  m^ty  soul  replied) 
**  Why  chuse  wi  miseries }  Most  derive  their  birth 
From  one  bad  source— we  dread  superior  worth ; 
Profcr*d,  it  seems  a  satire  on  our  own ; 
Then  heedless  to  eieel  we  jneanly  moan : 
Then  we  abstract  our  views,  and  envy  show, 
Whence  springs  the  misery,  pride  is  doom'd  to  know. 
Thus  folly  pain  creates :  by  wisdom's  power. 
We  shun  the  weight  of  many  a  restless  hour — 
Lo !  i  meet.wnmg:  perhaps  the  wrong  I  feel 
Tends,  by  the  scheme  of  things,  to  public  weal. 
I,  of  the  whole,  am  part— the  joy  men  see, 
Must  circulate,  and  so  revolve  to  me. 
Why  should  I  then  of  private  loss  complain  ? 
Of  loss,  that  proves,  perchance,  a  brother's  gain  ? 
,  The  wind,  that  binds  one  bark  within  the  bay. 
May  waft  a  richer  freight  its  wish'd-fbr  way. 
If  rains  redundant  flood  tlie  abject  ground. 
Mountains  are  but  supplied ,  when  vsdes  are  drQwn'd ; 
If,  with  soft  moisture  swellM,  the  vale  looks  gay. 
The  ^reidure  of  the  mountain  fedes  away. 
Shall  clouds,  but  at  my  welfare's  call  descend  } 
Shall  gravity  for  me  her  laws  suspend  ? 
For  me  shall  suns  their  noon-tide  course  forbear  ? 
Or  motion  not  subsist  to  influence  air  ? 
I^t  the  means  vary,  be  they  frost  or  flame. 
Thy  end,  O  Nature !  still  remains  the  same ! 
Be  this  ttte  motive  of  a  wise  mun's  care,— 
To  shun  deserving  ills,  and  learn  to  bear." 


CANTO    II. 

Wmilb  thus  a  mind  humane,  and  wise,  he  shows. 
All  ekxiuent  of  truth  his  language  flows,  [appears; 
Youth,    though   depress'd,  through   all  his  form 
Through  all  his  sentiments  the  depth  of  yean. 
Thus  he—**  Yet  fisrther  Industry  behold, 
Which  conscious  waits  new  wonders  to  unfold, 
.  Enter  my  rhapel  next— Lo !  here  begin 
lbs  baUo  M  rites*  thai  cheok  the  gnrirth  of  no. 


When  fint  we  met,  ham  lOoAyoii  aeem'd  to  kMK^ 
My  bosom,  labouring  withthe  throbs  of  woe!  fcare^ 
Such  racking  throbs  ! — Soft !   when  I  rouse  tbos* 
On  my  chBl'd  mind  pale  Recollection. glares! 
When  moping  Frenzy  strove  my  thoughts  to  sway^ 
Here  prudent  labours  chac'd  her  power  away. 
Full,  and  rongfa-rising  from  .yon  sculptur'd  wall, 
BoM  prophets  nations  to  repentance  call  >    [groan ! 
Meek  martyrs  smile  in  flames!   gor'd  chsmpions 
A<k1  muse-like  cherubs  tune  their  harps  in  stooc  I 
Next  sbadow'd  light  a  rounding  force  bestow^ 
Swells  into  life,  and  speaking  action  grows  \ 
Here  plesising,  melancholy  subjects  find. 
To  calm,  amuse,  exalt  the  pensive  mind ! 
This  figure  tender  grie^  like  mine,  implies. 
And  semblant  thoughts,  that  earthly  pomp  despis^ 
Such  penitential  Magdalene  reveals ; 
Loose-veird,  in  negligence  of  charms  she  koeel%. 
Though  dress,  oear-stor'd,  its  vanity  supplier 
The  vanity  of  dress  unheeded  hes. 
The  sinful  world  in  sorrowing  eye.she  keep^ 
As  o'er  Jerusalem  Messiah  weeps. 
One  hand  her  bosom  smites ;  in  one  appears 
Tlie  lifted  lawn,  that  drinks  her  Mling  tears. 

"  Sitice  evil  outweighs  good,  and  sways  mankmd, 
Tnie  fortitude  assuines  the  patiettt  mind : 
Such  pror'd  Messiah's,  though  to  suffering  bom. 
To  penury,  repulse,  reproach,  aad  scorn.  ^ 

Here,  by  the  pencil,  mark  his  flight  design'd  ; 
The  weary'd  virgin  by  a  stream  reeling,. 
Who  feeds  the  child.    Her  hoiks  a  charm  express, 
A  modest  charm,  that  dignifies  distress. 
Boughs  o*er  their  heads  with  blushing  fruits  depend^ 
\^liich  angels  ta  her  busied  consort  bend. 
Hence  by  the  smiling  infiuit  seems  discem'd. 
Trifles,  concerning  Him,  all  Heaven  conoent'd. 

"  Here  ^be  transfigur'd  Son  from  earth  retires :, 
See !  the  white  form"  in  m  brigli^  cloud  aspires ! 
Full  on  his  followers  bursts  ^iood  of  rays. 
Prostrate  they  hX\  beneath  tb'  o'erwbelminf  blaze ! 
Like  iKXMi-tkle  summer-suns  the  rays  appesir, 
(Jnsuiferable,  magnificent,  and  near  ! 

'*  What  scene  of  agony  the  garden  brings ; 
The  cup  of  gall ;  the  suppliant  Kii^  of  kings ! 
The  orown  of  thorns ;  the  eross,  that  felt  bun  die ; 
These,  languid  in  the  sketch,  unfinisfa^d  he. 

*'  There,  from  the  dead,  centurions  see  hinn  rise^ 
See !  but  struck  down,  with  horrible  suiprise ! 
As  the  first  glory  seem'd  a  sun  at  noon. 
This  casts  the  silver  splendour  of  the  Bloon. 

**  Here  peopled  day,  th'  ascending  <«od  surveys ! 
The  glory  varies,  as  the  myriads  gaze ! 
Now  soften'd,  like  a  sun  at  distance  seen. 
When  throQgh  a  cloud  bright-glancmg,  yet  servoe  \ 
Now  fittt^increasing  to  the  crowd  amaz'd. 
Like  some  vast  meteor  high  m  etber  rais'd ! 

'*  My  labour,  yon  high-vaulted  alter  stains 
With  dies,  thatemuhite  etherial  plahfis. 
The  convex  glass,  which  in  that  openmg  glows. 
Mid  drcUng  rays  a  pictnr'd  Savkmr  shovrs ! 
Bright  it  collects  the  beams,  which  trembling  all« 
Back  ftom  the  God,  a  showery  radiance  fieill. 
Lightening  the  scene  beneath !  a  scene  divme  \ 
Where  saints,  clouds,  seraphs,  mtenningled  dnns  I 

"  Here  wafter-i^s,  that  play  mdodions  roawl^ 
Like  a  sweet  organ,  swell  a  lofty  sound ! 
The  solemn  notes  Ud  earthly  passkms  fly. 
Lull  all  my  cares,  and  lift  my  soul  on  high  I 

'*  This  monumental  maible— this  I  rear 
Toooe^-Ob!  svtrmourB'dl— Ofalsivar4ssrit^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  WANDEJIER^Canto  II. 


305 


He  stopt-*'p«thelie  sighs  the  pause  supply, 

And  the  prompt  tear  starta,  quivering,  on  his  eye  ! 

I  kiok'd-»-two  columns  near  the  wall  were  seeis 
An  imag'd  beauty  stretchM  at  length  between. 
>f  ear  the  wept  fair,  her  harp  Ceciiia  strung ;  . 
Leaning,  from  high,  a  listx:niug  angel  hung  I 
Friendship,  whose  tigure  at  the  feet  remam^ 
A  phcnis,  with  irradiate  crest,  sustains : 
This  £rac'd  one  palkn,  while  one  extends  t*  iiiipaTt 
Two  foreign  bands,  that  clasp  a  burqing  heart 
A  pendent  veil  two  hovering  seraphs  raise, 
Which  opening  Heaven  upon  the  roof  displays  1 
And  two,  benevolent,  less-distant,  hold 
A  vase,  collective  of  j^rfumes  uproll'd ! 
These  from  the  heart,  by  Friendship  held,  ansf% 
Odortms  as  incense  gathering  in  the  skies. 
In  the  fond  pelican  is  love  expressed, 
Wbo  opens  to  her  young  her  tender  breast. 
Two  mated  turtles  hovering  hang  in  atr. 
One  by  a  falcon  struck  !— in  wild  despair. 
The  hermit  cries—**  So  death,  alas  !  destroys 
The  tender  consort  of  my  cares  and  joys !'' 
Again  soft  tears  upon  his  «ye-lid  hung, 
Again  clieck'd  sounds  dy*d,  fluttering,  on  his  tongue. 
Too  well  his  pining  mmost  thoiight  1  know  t 
Too  weH  ev'n  »lence  telfs  the  ttory^  woe  ? 
To  his  my  sighs,  to  his  roy  tears  reply  ! 
I  stray  o*er  all  the  tomb  a  watery  eye  \ 

Kejct,  9n  the  wall,  her  scenes  of  1^  I  gaz^d. 
The  form  back  leaning,  by  a  globe  half-raisVii 
Qiembs  a  proffier'd  crown  of  ^ory  show, 
Ey*d  wistfUl  by  th'  admiring  &ir  below. 
In  actioo  eloquimt  disposed  her  hands. 
One  shows  her  breast,  in  rapture  one  expands ! 
This  the  fond  hermit  seized !— o'er  all  his  soul. 
Hie  soft,  wild,  wailing,  amorous  passion  stole  i 
In  stedfiUt  gaxe  his  eyep  her  aspect  keep, 
Then  turn  away,  awhile  d^ected  weep ; 
Then  be  reverts  them ;  bat  reverts  in  vam, 
Dimm'd  with  the  swelling  gnef  that  streams  again. 
••  Where  now  is  my  philosophy  ?"  (he  cries) 
**  My  joy,  hope,  reason,  my  Olympia  dies ! 
Wby  did  I  e*er  that  prime  of  blessings  know } 
Was  it,  ye  cruel  Fates,  t'  embitter  woe  f 
Why  would  your  bolts  not  level  Arst  my  head  i 
Why  muk  1  live  to  weep  Olympia  dead  ?  - 
—Sir,  I  had  once  a  wife  I  Fair  bloom'd  her  youth, 
Her  form  was  beauty,  and  her  soul  was  truth  ! 
Ob,  she  was  dear  \  Uow  dear,  what  words  can  say  ? 
She  dies  I — my  Heaven  at  once  is  snatcb'd  away ! 
Ah !  what  avails,  that,  by  a  lather's  care, 
I  rose  a  wealthy  and  illuatrioits  heir? 
That  early  hi  my  yotith  1  leani'd  to  prove 
Th*  instructive,  pleasing,  academic  gro^'c  ^ 
That  in  the  senate  eloquence  was  mine? 
That  vakMir  gave  me  in  the  iekl  to  shine  ? 
That  love  showered  Uesstngs  too^fisr  more  than  all 
Higli-rapt  ambitioB  e'er  couki  happy  call  ? 
Ah  ! — Wh|it  are  these,  whk:h  ev'n  the  wise  adore  ? 
Lost  it  roy  prkie  i — Olympia  is  no  more ! 
Had  f,  yepenecuting  powers !  been  bom 
The  workl*s  cold  pi^r,  cvr,  at  best,  ito  scorn  } 
Of  wealth,  of  rank,  of  kindred  warmth  beieft; 
To  want,  to  shame,  to  ruthless  censaie  left ! 
Patienee^  or  pride,  to  this,  relief  supplies  I 
Batajostwifef— 4here!  there  distractbalieil 

*<  Now  three  sad  yean  1  yield  me  aS  to  grid^ 
And  fly  the  hated  eonlbit  of  reUafi 

VOU  XL 


Though  rich,  great,  young,  I  leave  a  pompous  seat 
(My  brother's  liow)  to  seek  some  dark  retreat : 
Alid  cloistered  soHtary  tombs  I  stray, 
Despair  and  horrour  lead  the  cheerless  vay  ! 
My  sorrow  grows  to  such  a  wild  excess, 
Uie,  iujur'd  life,  mubt  wish  the  passiua  less ! 
Oljrnipia  !^ — my  Olympia 's  lost  i  (I  cry) 
Olympia  's  lost,  the  hoUow  vaults  reply  ! 
Louder  1  make  my  lamentable  moan ; 
The  swell  ing  echoes  leara  Vke  me  to  groan ;  [sweep ; 
The  ghosts  -to  scream,  as  through  looe  aisles  they 
The  shrines  to  shudder,  and  the  saints  to  weep  ! 

**  Now  grief  and  n^,  by  gathering  sighs  supprest. 
Swell  my  full  l\eart,  and  heave  my  labouring  breast ! 
With  struggling  starts,  each  vital  stnng  they  strain. 
And  strike  the  tottering  fobric  of  my  brain  ! 
O'er  my  sunk  spirits  finmns  a  vapoury  scene. 
Woe's  dark  retreat !  the  madding  maze  of  spleen  ! 
A  deep  damp  gloom  o^rsprsads  the  murky  cell ; 
Here  pinli^  thoughts  and  seeret  terrours  dwell  J 
Kcre  learn  the  great  unreal  wants  to  feign  I 
Unpleasing  truths  here  mortify  the  vain  ! 
Here  Leammg,  blinded  first,  and  then  beguil'd. 
Looks  dark  as  Ignorance,  as  Frenzy  wild  ! 
Here  first  Credulity  on  Reason  won  ! 
And  here  fiUse  Zeal  mjrsterious  rants  begun  ! 
Here  Love  impeerls  each  moment  with  a  (ear. 
And  Superstition  owes  to  Spken  her  fear ! 

"  Fantastic  lightnings,  through  the  dreary  way, 
in  swift  short  signals  &sh  the  bursting  day  I 
Above,  beneath,  -across,  around,  they  fly  ! 
A  dire  deception  strikes  the  mental  eye ! 
By  the  blue  fires,  pale  phantoms  grin  severe ! 
Shrill,  fancy'd  echoes  wound  th'  affrighted  ear ! 
Air-banish'd  spirits  flag  in  fof  s  profound. 
And,  all  obscene,  shed  baneful  damps  around ! 
Now  whispers,  trembliog  in  some  feeble  wind. 
Sigh  out  prophetic  fears,  and  freeze  the  mind ! 

*^  Loud  laughs  the  hag  ! — She  mocks  compIaEint 
Unroofs  the  den,  and  )ets4n  more  than  day.  [away. 
Swarms  of  wild  fanciea,  wing'd  in  various  flight. 
Seek  emblematic  shades,  and  mystic  light ! 
Some  drive  with  rapid  steeds  the  shinmg  car !     . 
These  nod  fipom  thrones  !  Those  thunder  in  the  war  ^ 
Till,  tir'd,  they  turn  from  the  delusive  show. 
Start  from  wild  joy,  and  fix  in  stupid  woe. 

"  Here  the  lone  hour  a  blank  of  life  displays. 
Till  now  bad  thoughts  a  fiend  more  active  nuse*) 
A  fiend  in  evil  moments  ever  nigh ! 
Death  in  her  hand,  and  fireozy  in  her  eye ! 
Her  eye  all  red,  and  sunk ! — A  robe  she  won, 
With  life's  calamities  embroider'd  o*er. 
A  mirror  in  one  hand  collective  shows, 
VaryM  and  multiply'd,  that  group  of  woes. 
This  endless  foe  to  gRoerous  toil  and  pahi 
Lolls  on  a  conch  for  ease  $  but  blls  in  vain; 
She  muses  o'er  her  woe-embroider'd  vest. 
And  self-abborrence  heightens  in  her  breuL 
To  shun  her  care,  the  force  of  sleep  she  tries. 
Still  wakes  her  mind,  tihough  skimbers  doze  her  e3ret : 
Slie  dreams,  starts,  rises,  stalks  fimn  place  to  placa, 
With  restless,  thoughtful,  inteirupted  pace ; 
ffcm  eyeu  the  Sun,  and  curses  every  ray, 
Now  the  green  ground,  where  colour  fii^es  away. 
Dim  spectres  dance.    Again  her  eye  she  rears ; 
Then  from  tha  Uood-shot  ball  wipes  purpled  tc»n| 
Then  presses  hard  her  brow,  with  mischief  ii«offa^ 
Her  brow  half  huTftiinUi  agony  of  thoitfbt  J 
X 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


506 


SAVAGE'8  POEMS. 


•  Prom  me'  (she  cries)  *  pAle  wretch,  thy  comfort 
Born  of  Despair,  and  Suicide  my  name  !       [claim, 
Why  should  thy  life  a  moment's  pain  eudure ! 
Here  fevery  objet^t  proffers  grief  a  cure.' 

She  points  where  leaves  of  hemlock  blackening  shoot ! 

*  Pear  iiot !  pluck !  eatf  (said  she)  •  the  sovereign  root! 
Then  Death,  re^ersM,  shall  bear  his  ebon  lance  ! 
Soft  o'er  thy  sight  shall  swim  the  shadowy  trance  ! 
Or  leap  yon  rock,  possess  a  watery  grave. 

And  leave  wild  sorrow  to  thewnnd  and  wave  ! 
Or  mark-^this  poniard  thus  from  misery  frees  !' 
She  wounds  her  breast ! — ^the  guilty  steel  I  seize ! 
Straight,  where  she  struck,  a  smoakmg  spring  of  gore 
Wei  Is  from  the  wound,  and  floats  the  crimsom'd  floor. 
She  faints !  she^des  !— Oalm  thoughts  the  deed  re- 
And  now,  unstartliog,  6x  the  dire  resolve ;    (volve, 
Death  drops  his  terrours,  and,  with  charming  wiles, 
Winning,  and  kind,  like  my  Olympia  smiles  ! 
He  points  the  pa^^age  to  tlie  seats  divine. 
Where  poets,  heroes,  sainted  lovers  shine  ! 
I  come,  Olympia  !-^my  rear'd  arm  exttmds ; 
Half  to  my  breast  the  threatening  point  descends ; 
Straight  thunder  rocks  the  land  !    new  lightnfbgs 
When,  lo  !  a  voice  resounds-— <  Arise !  away !  [play  I 
Away  !  nor  murmur  at  tlic  afflictive  rod ! 
Nor  tempt  the  vengeance  of  an  angry  God  ! 
Ply'st  thou  from  Providence  for  vain  relief? 
Such  ill-sought  «ase  shall  draw  avenghag  grief. 
Honour,  the  moie  obstructed,  stronger  shines,    ' 
And  zeal  by  persecution's  rage  refines. 
By  woe,  the  soul  to  daring  action  swells ; 
By  woe,  in  paintless  patience  it  excels ; 
Prom  patience  prudent,  dear  experience  springs, 
And  tracer  knowledge  through  the  course  of  things  1 
Tlience  hope  is  form-d,  thence  fortitude,  success, 
Benown : — ^whate*er  men  covet  and  caress.' 

"  Tlie  vanish'd  flend  thus  sent  a  hollow  voice. 
'  Would'st  thou  be  happy  ?  straight  be  dealb  thy 

choice. 
How  mean  are  those,  who  passively  complain ; 
AVhile  active  souls,  more  fKe,  their  fetters  strain  ! 
Though  knowledge  thme,  hope,  fortitude,  success. 
Renown  t— whatever  men  covet  and  caress ; 
On  Earth  success  must  in  its  turn  give  way, 
And  eY*n  perfection  introduce  decay. 
Never  the  wodd  of  spirits  thns-^their  rest 
Untoitch'd  !  entire !— once  happy,  ever  blest !' 

'*  Earnest  the  heavenly  vwx  responsive  cries, 
*  Oh,  listen  not  to  subttlty  unwise  ! 
Thy  guaMian  saint,  who  mourns  thy  hapless  &te. 
Heaven  grants  to  prop  thy  virtue,  ere  too  late. 
Know,  if  thou  wilt  thy  dear-lov'd  wife  deplore, 
Olympia  waits  thee  on  a  foreign  shore ; 
There  in  a  cell  thy  last  remains  he  spent ; 
Away  !  deceive  Despair,  and  find  Content !' 

**  1  beard,  obey'd .  nor  more  of  Fate  complain'd ; 
Long  seas  I  measur'd,  and  this  mountain  gain'd. 
Soon  to  a  yawning  nft,  chance  tum'd  my  way ; 
A  rien  it  prov'd.  where  a  huge  serpent  lay  ! 
Flame -ey'd  he  lay ! — he  rages  now  for  food. 
Meets  my  first  gUmce,  and  meditates  my  blood ! 
His  bul|c,  in  many  a  gathered  orb  uproll'd, 
Bears  spire  on  spire !  His  scales,  be^ropt  with  goM 
Shine  bumish'd  in  the  bud  !  such  height  they  gain, 
lliey  dart  green  lustre  on  the  distant  main  I 
Now  writh'd  in  dreadftil  slope,  he  stoops  his  creity 
Furious  to  fix  on  my  unshielded  breast ! 
Just  as  he  springs,  my  sabre  smites  the  Ibe ! 
UMdless  lie  &11b  beneath  the  unerring  bk)w  1 


Wratli  yet  remains,  though  tAmigth  his  (hbric  leaTes, 
And  the  meant  hiss  the  gasping  mouth  deceives  j 
The  lengthening  tnmk  slow-loosens  every  fold. 
Lingers  in  life :  then  stretches  stiff,  and  cokL 
Just  as  th'  inveterate  son  of  mischief  ends, 
Comtnt  a  white  dove,  and  near  the  spot  descends : 
1  hail  this  omen  !  all  bad  passions  cease. 
Like  the  slain  snake,  and  all  within  is  peace. 
"  Next,  to  Religion  this  plain  roof  I  raise ! 
In  duteous  rites  my  hallow'd  tapers  blaze ; 
1  bid  due  incense  on  my  altars  smoke  ! 
Then,  at  this  tomb,  my  promis'd  love  invoke  ! 
She  hears  !  she  comes  ! — My  heart  what  raptures 
All  my  Olympia  sparkles  in  the  form !         [waim } 
No  pale,  wan,  li\id  mark  of  death  she  bears ! 
Each  roseate  look  a  quickening  transport  wears ! 
A  robe  of  light,  high-wn»ught,  her  shape  invests ; 
Unzon'd  the  swelling  beauty  of  her  breasts  ! 
Her  auburn  hair  each  flowing  ring  resumes, 
In  her  fair  hand.  Love's  branch  of  myrtle  blooms ! 
Silent,  awhile,  each  well-known  charm  I  trace; 
Then,  thus,  (while  nearer  she  avoids  th'  embrace) 
'  Thou  dear  deceit ! — must  (  a  shade  pursue  ? 
Dazsled  I  gaze  I—thou  swimm'st  before  my  view  !• 
Dipt  in  etherial  dews,  her  bough  divine 
Sprinkles  my  eyes,  which,  strengthen'd,  bear  the 

shine: 
Still  thus  I  urge  (for  still  the  shadowy  bliss 
Shuns  the  warm  grasp,  nor  yields  the  tender  kiss) 

*  Oh,  fly  not !— fade  not ;  listen  to  love's  call ! 
Site  lives !  no  more  I  'm  man ! — I  'm  spirit  all ! 
Then  let  me  snatch  thee ! — press  thee !— take  um 

whole  ! 
Oh,  doee !— yet  closer ! — closer  to  my  soul  !* 
Twice,  round  her  waist,  my  eager  arms  entwin'd. 
And,  twice  deceiv*d,  my  frenzy  clasp'd  the  wind  ! 
Then  thus  1  rav'd-^*  Behoid  thy  husband  kneel*  • 
And  judge  !  O  judge  whilt  agonies  I  feel ! 
Oh !  be  no  longer,  if  unkind,  thus  fair; 
Take  Horror's  shape,  and  fright  me  to  despair! 
Rather  than  thus,  unfntying,  see  my  moan. 
Far  ratlier  finown,  and  fix  me  here  in  stone ! 
But  mock  not  thus !' — '  Alas'  (the  charmer  said^ 
Smiling,  and  in  her  smile  soft  radiance  play'd) 

*  Alas  !  no  more  eluded  strength  employ. 

To  clasp  a  shade !— What  more  is  mortal  joy  ? 
Man's  bliss  is,  like  his  knowledge,  but  8urmis*d^ 
One  ignorance,  the  other  pain  disguis*d  ! 
Thou  wert  (had  all  thy  wish  been  stiU  poasest) 
Supremely  curst  from  being  greatly  ble^ ; 
Pur  oh  !  so  fair,  so  dear  was  I  to  thee, 
Thou  hadii£  forgot  thy  God,  to  worship  me; 
This  he  foresaw,  and  snatch'd  me  to  the  tomb ; 
Above  I  flourish  in  unfading  bloom. 
Think  me  not  lost :  for  thee  I  Heaven  implore  1 
Thy  guardifen  angel,  though  a  wifa  no  more ! 
I,  when  abstracteid  from  this  world  you  seem. 
Hint  the  pure  thoogfat,  and  frame  the  heavenly 

dream ! 
Close  at  thy  side,  when  morning  streaks  the  air^ 
In  Music's  voice  I  wake  thy  mind  to  prayer ! 
By  me,  thy  hymns,  like  purest  inceiiBe,  rise. 
Fragrant  with  graoe,  and  pleasing  to  the  skies  I 
And  when  that  form  shall  fipom  i»  clay  refine, 
(That  only  bar  hetarixt  my  soul  and  thine  !) 
Whte  thy  lov*d  spirit  mounts  to  realms  of  lighl^ 
Then  ih«U  Olympia  aid  thy  earliest  flight ; 
Mingled  we  '11  (ame  in  raptures  that  asphn 
Beyond  all  youth,  all  moats,  and  all  deyire^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  WANDERER— Can*o  III. 


307 


8be  ended.    Still  such  sweetness  dwells  behind, 
Th*  inchanthig  voice  sitill  warbles  in  my  mind : 
But  lo  !  th'  unbodied  vision  fleets  away  !— 
— •  Stay,  mv  Olympia  ! — f  conjure  thee  stay  ! 
Yet  stay — fir  thee  my  memory  leans  to  smart ! 
Sure  every  vein  contains  a  bleeding  heart  1 
Sooner  shall  splendour  leave  the  bla^e  of  day. 
Than  love,  so  pure,  so  vast  as  mine,  deo|y  ! 
From  the  saVne  heavenly  source  its  lustre  came. 
And  ^ows,  immortal,  with  congenial  flame  I 
Ah  !^  let  me  nod  with  flres  neglected  bum ; 
Sweet  mistress  of  my  soul,  return,  return  !* 

•«  Alas  !— she*s  fled— I  traverse  now  the  place. 
Where  my  enamour'd  thoughts  her  footsteps  trace. 
Now,  o'er  the  tomb,  I  bend  ray  drooping  head. 
There  tears,  the  eloquence  of  sorrow,  shed. 
Sighs  ch«>ak  my  woitls,  unable  to  express 
The  pangs,  the  throbs  of  s|>eechless  tendinmess! 
Not  with  more  ardent,  more  transparent  flame, 
Call  dving  saints  on  their  Creator's  name, 
Thaa  I  on  her's ; — but  through  yon  yieldhig  door, 
Glides  a  new  phantom  o'er  th'  illumra'd  floor ! 
The  roof  swift  kindles  from  the  beaming  ground, 
And  floods  of  living  lustre  flfime  around  ! 
In  all  the  majesty  of  light  array'd, 
Awful  it  shines  1— 'tis  Oato's  honoured  shade  ! 
As  I  the  heavenly  visitant  pursue, 
Sublimer  glory  opens  to  my  view  ! 
He  speaks  !>-But,  oh  !  what  words  shall  dare  repeat 
His  thoughts !— They  leave  me  fir'd  with  patriot 
More  than  poetic  raptures  now  I  feel,  [heat ! 

And  own  that  godlike  passion,  public  zeal ! 
But  from  my  frailty,  it  receives  a  stain, 
I  grow,  unlike'  my  great  inspirer,  vain  ; 
And  bum,  once  more,  the  busy  world  to  know, 
And  would,  in  scenes  of  action  foremost  glow ! 
Where  proud  ambition  points  her  dazzling  rays ! 
Where  coronets  and  crowns,  attractive,  blaze ! 
When  m^  Olympia  leaves  the  realms  abox-e. 
And  Inres  me  back  to  solitary  love. 
She  tells  me  tnith,  prefers  an  humble  state. 
That  genuine  greatness  shuns  the  being  g^at  ? 
That  mean  are  those,  iR^false-term'd  honour  prize ; 
Whose  fhbrics  from  their  country's  ruin  rise ; 
Who  look  the  traitor,  like  the  patriot,  fair; 
Who,  tb  enjoy  the  vineyard,  wrong  the  heir,  [roll ! 

"  I  hear ! — through  all  my  veins  new  transports 
I  gaze !— warm  love  comes  rushing  on  mysoul : 
Ravitii'd  1  gaze  ! — again  her  charms  decay  ! 
Again  my,  manhood  to  my  grief  gives  way ! 
CatD  returns ! — Zeal  takes  her  course  to  reign ! 
Bnt  zeal  is  in  ambition  lost  agam  ! 
I'm  DOW  the  slave  of  fondness !— now  of  pride  ! 
— >By  turns  they  conquer,  and  by  turns  subside ! 
HiesetMilanc'd  each  by  each,  the  golden  mean, 
Betwixt  them  found,  gives  happiness  serene ; 
This  I'll  eiyoy !"— He  ended  !— I  reply'd, 
"  O  Hermit !  thou  art  worth  severely  try'd  ! 
But  had  nU  innate  grief  produc'd  thy.  woes. 
Men,  barbarous  men,  had  prejr'd  on  thy  tepo^. 
When  seeking  joy,  we  seldom  sorrow  miss. 
And  often  niisery  points  the  path  to  bliss. 
The  ioU,  most  worthy  of  the  thrifty  swain. 
Is  woonded  thus,  ere  trusted  with  the  grain ; 
The  strugglmg  grahi  must  work  obscure  its  way. 
Ere  the  ^it  green  springs  upward  to  the  day ; 
Up-sprung,  such  weed-like  coarseness  it  betrays. 
Flocks  on  th'  ahandon'd  blade  permissive  graze ; 
Then  shoots  the  wealth,  from  imperfectkm  clear. 
And  thus  a  grateful  hanrest  crowns  the  year.'' 


CAKTO    IIL 


Timft  free  our  social  time  from  morning  flows 
Till  rising  shades  attempt  the  day  to  close. 
Thus  my  new  friend:  "  Behold  the  light's  decay: 
Back  to  jron  city  l<'t  me  point  thy  way. 
South-west,  behhid  yon  hill,  the  sloping  Sun, 
To  ocean's  verge  his  fluent  course  has  run  : 
His  parting  eyes  a  watery  radiance  shed. 
Glance  through  the  vale,  and  tip  the  mountain's  head: 
To  which  oppos'tl,  the  shadowy  gu'fs,  below,' 
Beauteous,  reflect  the  party-colour'd  snow,    [way; 

"  Now  dance  the  stirs,  where  Vesjier  leads  the 
Yet  all  faint-glimmering  with  remains  of  day. 
Orient,  the  queen  of  night  emits  her  dawn. 
And  throws,  unseen,  her  mantle  o'er  the  lawn. 
Up  the  blue  steep,  her  crimson  orb  now  shines; 
Now  on  the  mountain-top  her  arm  reclines. 
In  a  red  crescent  seen :  her  zone  now  gleams. 
Like  Venus,  quivering  in  reflecting  streams. 
Yet  reddening,  yet  round-burning  up  the  air, 
Prom  the  white  clilf,  her  f5eet  slow  rising  glare ! 
See  !  flames,  condens'd  now  vary  her  attire  ; 
Her  fac€?,  a  broad  circumference  of  fire. 
t)ark  firs  seem  kindled  in  nocturnal  blaze ; 
Through  ranks  of  pines,  her  broken  lustre  plays. 
Here  glares,  tliere  brown-projecting  shade  bestows. 
And,  glittering,  sports  upon  the  spangled  snows. 

"  Now  silver  turn  her  beams ! — von  den  they 
The  big,  rons'd  Hon  shakes  his  brindled  main,  [gain; 
Fierce,  fleet,  gaunt  monsters,  all  prepar'd  for  gore. 
Rend  floods,  vales,  rocks,  with  wide  resounding  roar, 

0  dire  presage ! — But  fear  not  thou,  my  friend. 
Our  steps  the  guardians  of  the  just  attend. 
Homeward  1  'II  wait  thee  on — and  now  survey. 
How  men  and  spirits  chase  the  night  away  ! 

Yon  nymphs  and  swains  in  amorous  mirth  advance  ; 
To  breathing  music  moves  the  circling  dance. 
Here  the  bold  youth  in  deeds  adventurous  glow. 
Skimming  in  rapid  sleds  the  crackling  snow. 
Not  when  Tydides  won  the  funeral  race, 
Shot  his  light  car  along  in  swifter  pace. 
Here  the  glaz'd  way  with  iron  feet  they  dare. 
And  glide,  well-pois'd,  like  Mercuries  in  air. 
There  crowds,  with  stable  tread,  and  levell'd  eye. 
Lift,  and  dismiss  the  quoits,  that  whirling  fly. 
With  force  superior,  not  with  skill  so  tme. 
The  ponderous  disk  from  Roman  sinews  flew.' 
Where  neighbouring  hills  some  cloudy  sh^t  sustain, 
Preez'd  o'er  the  nether  vale  a  pensile  plain. 
Cross  the  roofd  hollow  rolls  the  massy  round. 
The  crack'd  ice  rattles,  and  the  rocks  resound  ! 
Censures,  disputes,  aud  laughs,  alternate,  rise ; 
And  deafening  clangor  thunders  up  the  skies." 

Thus,  amid  crowded  images,  serene, 
From  hour  to  hour  we  pass'd,  from  scene  to  scene. 
Fast  wore  the  night.     Full  long  we  pac'd  our  way  : 
Vain  steps  !  the  city  yet  far  distant  lay. 
While  thus  the  Hermit,  ere  my  wonder  spoke, 
Methought,  with  new  amusement,  silence  broke :  .  . 
*<  Yon  amber-hued  cascade,  which  fleecy  flies 
Through  rocks,  and  strays  aJong  the  trackless  skies. 
To  finolic  fairies  marks  the  mazy  ring ; 
Forth  to  the  dance  from  little  cells  they  spring, 
Measur'd  to  pipe  or  harp  ! — and  next  they  stand 
MarshaI'd  beneath  the  moon,  a  radiant  band  ! 
In  frost-work  now  delight  the  sportive  khid : 

1  Now  court  wild  foncy  in  the  whistling  wmd  ^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


901 


SAVAGFS  POEMS. 


*<  Mark  !  tbe  fuoerMil  be1l*t  dee^  soondlng  toll, 
To  bins,  from  misery,  calls  mme  nghteous  soul ! 
Just  freed  from  lift,  life  swift-asc('ndiD^  fire, 
GlorioiiK  it  mounts,  and  gleams  from  yonder  spire  ! 
light cia^K  its  wings! — it  views,  with  pityiqg  sight. 
The  friendly  mourner  pay  the  pious  rite ; 
The  plume  high  wrought,  that  blackening  nods  in  air; 
The  slow-pac  d  weeping  pomp ;  tlie  solemn  prayer  ; 
The  decent  tomb ;  the  verse,  that  Sorrow  gives. 
Where,  to  remembrance  sweet,  feir  VirtiMj  lives. 

Now  to  mid-heaven  the  wbitenM  Moon  inclines. 
And  shades  contract,  mark'd  out  in  clearer  lines  | 
With  noiseless  gloom  the  plains  are  delugM  o'er : 
See !«— from   the  north,  what  t^treaming  meteors 
Beneath  Bootes  springs  the  radiant  train,      [pour ! 
And  (Quiver  Uirough  the  axle  of  his  wain. 
0>r  altars  tlius,  impainted,  we  behold 
Half  chrcling  glories  shoot  in  rays  of  gold. 
Cross  ether  swift  elancc  the  vivid  (ires  ! 
As  swift  again  each  pointed  flame  retires ! 
In  Fancy's  eye  entx>untering  armies  glare, 
And  sanguine  ensigns  wave  uufurPd  in  air  ! 
Hence  the  weak  vulgar  deem  inpentliug  £ite, 
A  monarch  ruin'd,  or  unpeopled  state. 
Thus  comets,  dreadful  visitants  !  ariso 
To  them  wild  omens !  science  to  the  wise  ! 
These  mark  the  comet  to  the  Sun  incline, 
While  deep-red  flames  around  its  centre  shine ! 
While  its  fierce  rear  a  winding  trail  displa>'s. 
And  lights  all  ether  with  the  sweepy  blaze  ! 
Or  when,  compelled,  it  flies  the  torrid  zone. 
And  shoots  by  worids  unnumberM  and  unknown  ; 
By  worlds,  whose  people,  all-aghast  with  fear, 
May  view  that  minister  of  vengeance  near  ! 
TUl  now,  the  transient  glow,  remote  and  lokt, 
Decays,  and  darkens  'mid  involving  frost ! 
Or  when  it,  sunward,  ^pnks  rich  beauts  again, 
And  bums  imperious  on  th'  etherial  plain  ! 
TliC  Icarn'd'One,  curious,  eyes  it  from  afar, 
^^ikling  through  night,  a  new  illustrious  &tar  1 

The  moon,  descending,  ^w  us  now  pursue 
Th^  various  talk  : — the  city  near  in  view  ' 
«*  Here  firom  still-Jife"  (he  cries)  "  avert  thy  sight. 
And  mark  What  deeds  adorn,  or  shame  the  night ! 
But,  heedful,  each  immodest  prospect  fly ; 
Where  decency  forbids  inqiury*8  eye. 
Man  were  not  man,  writbout  love's  wanton  fire, 
But  reason's  glory  is  to  quell  desire. 
T^Tiat  are  thy  fruits,  O  Lust  ?  Short  blesrings.  boogbt 
With  long  remorse,  the  seed  of  bitter  thought ; 
Perhaps  wane  babe  to  dire  dibeases  bom, 
DoomM  for  another's  crimes,  through  life,  to  mourn ; 
Or  murdcr'd,  to  preserve  a  mother's  fame ; 
Or  cast  obscure  ;  the  child  of  want  and  Shame  ! 
False  pride !  What  vices  on  our  conduct  steals 
From  the  world's  eye  one  frailty  to  corneal ! 
Ye  cmel  mothers ! — Soft !  tho^  words  command ; 
fo  near  shall  cmelty,  and  mother  sUnd  ? 
Oin  the  dove's  bosom  snakey  venom  draw  ? 
CSan  its  foot  sharpen,  like  the  vulture's  claw  ? 
Can  the  fond  goat,  or  tender,  fleecv  dam 
Howl,  like  the  wolf,  to  tear  the  kid,  or  lamb  ? 
Yes,  there  are  mothers*'— rThere  I  fear'd  his  aim. 
And,  conscious,  trembled  at  the  commg  name ; 
Then,  with  a  sigh,  his  issuing  words  oppos'd  ! 
Straight  with  a  fall'mg  tear  the  speech  he  dos'd. 
Thrt  tendemesi,  which  ties  of  blood  deny, 
ytttfre  repwd  m^ftom  a  stnmgw'i  eye. 


Pale  grew  my  cheeks  I— JBufc  now  to  general  ffcwr' 
Our  converse  turns,  which  thuc  my  friend  renews 

"  Von  mansion,  made  by  beammg  tapers  gay« 
Orowns  the  dim  uight,  and  counterfeits  the  d^« 
From  lumin'd  windows  glancing  on  the  eye, 
Aroun'd,  athwart^  the  frisking  shadows  fly, 
Tliere  midnight  riot  spreads  illusive  joys. 
And  fortune,  health,  and  dearer  time  destroyiw 
Soon  deatft's  dark  agent  to  luxuriant  ease. 
Shall  wake  sharp  warnings  io  some  fierce  diseaso. 
O  man  !  thy  fabric  's  like  a  wcU-form'd  state ; 
Tliy  thoughts,  first  rknk'd,  were  sure  design'd  th* 
Passions  pleb^hs  are,  which  faotioo  raise ;  [great  ^ 
Wine,  like  pourM  oil,  excites  the  raging  blaze : 
Then  giddy  anarchy's  rude  triumplis  rise : 
Then  sovereign  reason  firom  her  empire  fliea : 
That  mler  once  depos'd,  wisdom  and  wit. 
To  noise  and  folly,  place  and  power  submit ; 
Tike  a  frail  hark  thy  weaken'd  mind  is  tost, 
Unsteer'd,  unbolauc'd  till  its  wealtli  is  lost. 

"  llie  miser-spirit  eyes  the  spcudthritt  beir» 
And  mourns,  too  late,  efiects  of  sordid  care. 
His  treasures  fly  to  doy  each  fawning  slave ; 
Yet  gmdge  a  stone  to  dignify  his  grave. 
For  this,  bw-thoughted  craft  his  Ufeemploy'd; 
For  this,  though  wealthy,  he  no  wealth  enjoy'd  ^ 
For  this,  he  grip'd  the  poor,  and  alnu  deny'd, 
Unfriended  liv'd,  and  uniamented  died. 
Yet  smile,  griev'd  shade  (  when  that  nnpiotperoitf 
Fast-lessens,when  gay  hours  return  no  moi«;  [vfcove 
Smile  at  thy  heir,  behokling,  in  bis  fall. 
Men  once  oblig'd,  like  him,  ungrateful  all ! 
TIten  tlKHight^nspiring  woe  h\t  heart  shall  mend^ 
And  prove  his  only  wise,  unflattering  friend. 

**  Folly  exhibits  thus  unmanly  sport. 
While  plotting  Mischief  keeps  reserv'd  her  couii^ 
Lo<!  fViwn  tiiat  mount,  in  blasting  sulphur  broke. 
Stream  flames  voluminous,  enwrapp'd  with  SBiokel 
lij  chariot  shape  they  whirl  np  yonder  towfr. 
Lean  on  its  brow,  and  like  destruction  lower  1 
From  the  black  depth  a  fiery  legion  springs  « 
Faeh  bold,  bad  spectre  claps  her  sounding  win|e»: 
And  straight  beneath  a  suaimoQ*d,  Craiterous  band. 
On  horrour  bent,  in  dark  conveutioo  stand : 
From  each  fiends  mouth  a  mddv  vapoor  flows. 
Glides  thio'  the  roof,  and  o'er  the  council  glowa? 
'Hie  villains,  close  beneath  th'  infection  pent. 
Feel,  all.posaess:d,  their  rising  galls  ferBseiit; 
And  bum  with  faction,  bate*  afl4  vengefnl  ire^ 
For  rapine,  blood,  and  devastation  dire ! 
Itut  Justice  marks  their  wajrt :  she  waves,  in  air. 
The  sword,  high-threatening-,  like  a  comet's  g&M. 

**  While  here  daric  VUbun^  bwnelf  deoetvea. 
There  studious  Honesty  our  view  relief  ea.     - 
A  feeble  tapw,  fron  yon  lonesooie  room. 
Scattering  thin  rays,  just  ffthnmeffs  thro*  the  glooaif 
There  sits  the  sapient  bard  in  museful  mood. 
And  glows  impassion'd  for  his  cemitry Y  good ! 
All  the  bright  spirits  of  the  just,  eomhin'd. 
Inform,  refine,  and  prompt  bis  towerii^  mind  I 
He  takes  the  gifted  quill  from  hands  diihie» 
Around  his  temples  rays  refulgent  shine ! 
Now  rapt!  now  roorethanmanl-^IaeehhiiclMi, 
To  view  this  speck  of  Earth  from  worids  iobliaM! 
I  lee  him  now  o'er  Natuvet  works  pceade ! 
How  clear  the  vision !  and  the  seeneliov  wide! 
IM  somiB  a  name  by  adulatieii  raise,  ' 
Of  ecaodal,  neaaer  than  «  venal  pniM  1 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  WANDERER— Canto  IV. 


sr»9 


*  Ify  Kme'  (he  cri«f)  *  a  nobler  prospect  riew  f 

*  Tbroagfa  hncy*9  vikls  some  moraPs  point  purme ! 
From  dark  deceptkn  dear-drawn  truth  display, 
Aa  fram  black  chaos  « jse  resplendent  day  ! 
Awake  compassion,  and  bid  terrour  rise ! 

Bid  humble  sorrows  strike  superior  eyes ! 
So  pamperM  power,  unconscionB  of  distress, 
May  see,  be  mov'd,  and,  bciny  mov'd,  redress.* 

*'  Ye  traitor^  tyrants,  fear  his  sting:ing  lay !    . 
Ye  powecs  unWd,  nnpityM  in  decay  ! 
Bat  know,  to  yon  sweet-bkwsomM  Fame  he  brings. 
Ye  heroes,  patriots,  and  paiemal  k'mgs ! 

*  O  Thoii,  who  form'd,  who  rais'd  the  poet's  art, 
(Voice  of  thy  will !)  mierring  force  impart  I 
If  wailing  worth  can  generous  warmth  excite, 
If  verse  can  gild  instructioo  with  delight. 
Inspire  his  honest  Muxe  with  orient  flame. 
To  rise,  to  dare,  to  reach  the  noblest  aim  1 

"  But,  O  ray  friend !  mysterious  is  our  fete ! 
How  mean  his  fortune,  though  his  mind  elate  ! 
JEneas-iike  he  passes  through  the  crowd, 
Unsonght,  unseen  beneath  misfortuue's  cloud ; 
Or  seen  with  slight  regard  t  nnpraisM  his  name : 
His  aiter^bonour,  and  our  after-shame. 
The  doom'd  desert,  to  Avarice  stands  confessed ; 
Her  eyes  averted  are,  add  steePd  her  breast* 
Envy  asquint  the  future  wonder  eyes : 
Bold  Insult,  pointing,  hoots  him  as  he  flies ; 
While  coward  Censure,  skiird  in  darker  wayi. 
Hints  sure  detraction  in  dissembled  praise  ! 
Hunger,  thirst,  rukedness,  there  grievous  fall  I 
Unjust  derision  too ! — that  tomrue  of  gall ! 
Slow  comes  Relkef^  with  no  mild  charms  enduod, 
TJsher'dby  Pride,  and  by  Rqiroach  pursued. 
Forc'd  Pity  meets  him  with  a  cold  respect, 
Unkind  as  Soom,  ungenerous  as  Neglect  ^ 

*^  Vet,  suffering  Worth !  thy  fortitude  will  shine 
Thy  foes  are  Virtue's,  and  her  friends  are  thine  I 
Patience  is  thine,  and  Peace  thy  dajrs  shall  crown ; 
Thy  treasure  Prudenqe,  and  thy  claim  Renown : 
Myriads,  unborn,  shall  mourn  thy  hapless  fate, 
And  myriads  grow,  by  thy  example,  great ! 

"  Hark !  from  tbe  watch-tower  rolls  the  ttnmpet*s 
found, 
Sweet  tbievgh  still  night,  proclaiming  safety  round  ! 
Yon  shade  iikntrious  ouits  the  realms  of  rest. 
To  aid  some  orphan  of  its  race  distrest. 
Safe  wmds  him  through  the  subterraneous  way, 
That  mines  3ron  mansion,  grown  with  ruin  grey. 
And  marks  the  wealthy,  unsuspected  grotind. 
Where,  green  with  rust,  long-bnried  cohM  abound. 
This  plaintive  ghost,  from  Earth  when  newly  fled. 
Saw  those,  thd  livhig  trusted,  wirxig  tbe  dead  ; 
He  saw,  by  fraud  abos'd,  the  lifeless  hand 
Sign  the  fislse  deed  that  alienates  his  land ; 
Heard,  oq  his  fame,  injurious  censure  thrown. 
And  mooraM  tbe  beggared  orphaa's  bitter  groan. 
GosnmissioQ'd  now  tbe  fUsehood  he  fevealf ,     ' 
To  justice  soon  th*  enabled  heir  appeals; 
Soon,  by  hi*  wealth,  ara  e<MJy  pleas  maint^in'd. 
And,  by  disoover^d  truth,  lest  right  regain'd. 

'*.  Bat  irfay  (may  some  incyuke)  why  kind  soocesSf 
Since  mystie  Heaven  gives  misery  oft  to  bleas  ? 
Thoogli  misery  leadte  to  happiness  and  troth, 
Unaqpaal  t»  tbe  load,  this  languid  youth, 
Unstrenfthen'd  vntoa  so«Rse  his  bosom  fir^d. 
And  feailul  from  bis  growing  wanta  relir'd. 
Oh.  let  not^^seasdfey  if  Cnntried  by  nWf, 


He  stoop'd  reluctant  to  low  arts  of  shame,  [name. 
Which  then,  ev'n  then  he  scom'd,  and  bhtsh^d  ttt 
Heaven  see8,tand  makes  th*  imperfect  worth  its  care. 
And  cheers  tbe  trembling  heart,  unfbrm'd  to  bear, 
Now  rising  fortune  elevates  his  mind. 
Ho  shines  undonded,  and  adorns  mankind. 

**  So  in  some  engine,  that  denies  a  vent, 
If  unrespiring  is  some  creature  pent. 
It  sickens,  droops,  and  pants,  and  gasps  for  breath. 
Sad  o'er  tbe  sight  swim  shadowy  mists  of  death  ;  , 
If  then  kind  air  pours  powerful  in  again. 
New  heats,  new  pulses  quicken  every  vein; 
From  the  cleared,  lifted,  life-rekindled  eye. 
Dispersed,  the  dark  and  dampy  vapours  fly. 
*'  From  tremblingtombs  the  ghostaof  greatness  rise, 
$nd  o'er  their  bodies  hang  with  wistful  eyes  ; 
Or  discontented  stalk,  and  mix  tiieir  bowls 
Wirh  howling  wolves,  their  screams  with  screaming 
The  inten'al  'twixt  night  and  mom  is  nigh,     [owls. 
Winter  more  nitrous  chills  the  shadow'd  sky. 
'  Springs  with  soft  heats  no  more  give  borders  green. 
Nor  smoaking  breathe  along  the  whiten'd  scene ; 
While  steamy  currents,  sweet  in  prospect,  charm 
like  veins  blue-winding  on  a  fkir-one's  arm. 

**  Now  Sleep  to  Ftocy  parts  with  half  his  power 
And  broken  slumbers  drag  the  restless  hour. 
The  murdcr'd  seems  alive,  and  ghastly  glares, 
^  And  in  dire  dreams  the  conscious  murderer  scares. 
Shows  the  yct-spouting  wound,  th'  ensanguin'd  flooi^ 
lite  walls  yet-smoaking  with  the  spatter'd  gore; 
Or  shrieks  to  dosing  Justice,  and  reveals 
The  deed,  which  fraudful  Art  from  day  conccab; 
The  delve  obscene,  where  no  suspicion  pries. 
Where  the  disfigured  corse  unsbrooded  lies ; 
The  sure,  the  striking  proof,  so  strong  maintain'd. 
Pale  Guilt  starts  self-eonvioted,  when  arraign'd. 

''  These  spirits  treason  of  its  power  divest. 
And  turn  the  peril  fh)m  the  patriot's  breast 
Those  solemn  thought  inspire,  or  bright  descend 
To  snatch  in  vision  sweet  the  dying  friend. 

*'  But  we  deceive  the  gloom,  the  maiUn  bell 
Summons  to  prayer  I— Now  breaks  th'  tnchanterS 
And  now—But  jron  fair  sphrit's  form  survey  '  [spell  \ 
Tis  she ! — Olympia  beckons  me  away  1 
,  I  haste  1 — I  fly  !— adieu  !•— and  when  you  see 
The  youth  who  bleeds  with  fondness,  thmk  on  mt: 
Tell  him  my  tale,  and  be  his  pain  carest; 
By  love  I  tortured  was,  by  love  I'm  blest 
When  woKshipp'd  woman  we  entranc'd  behold. 
We  praise  the  Maker  ra  his  fairest  mould ; 
Tbe  pride  of  nature,  harmony  combin'd. 
And  light  immortal  to  the  soul  refin'd  1 
Depriv'd  of  charming  women,  soon  we  miss 
The  prise  of  friendship,  and  the  life  of  bliss ! 
**  Still  through  the  shades  Olympia  dawning  breaks  1 
What  bloom,  what  bri^tness  lustres  o'er  her  cheeks  I 
Again  she  calls ! — I  dare  no  longer  stay ! 
A  kind  (krewell — Olympia,  I  obey.*' 

He  tum'd,  no  kiQger  in  my  sight  remain'd; 
The  mountain  he,  1  safe  the  city  gain'd. 

CANTO    IV, 

Still  o^er  my  mind  wild  Fancy  holds  her  sway. 
Still  on  strange,  visionary  land  I  stray. 
Now'  scenes  crowd  thick  !  now  indistinct  appear ! 
Swift  gUde  the  months,  and  turn  the  varjring  year ! 
Near  the  Bull's  bom  light's  rising  monatcii  dimw^ 
Now  ep  its  back  the  Pleiadas  he  thaws'l 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


310. 


SAVAGE'S  POEMS, 


Fiom  vernal  heat  pale  Winter  foro'd  to  fly^ 
Northward  retires,  yet  tunw  a  watery  eye  j 
Then  with  an  aguish  bceath  nips  infant  blouma. 
Deprives  uniulding  spring  of  rich  perfumes, 
Shakes  the  slow^irding  blood  of  human  race. 
And  in  sharp,  livid  looks  contracts  the  fticc 
Now  o'er  Norw^an  hills  he  strides  away : 
Such  slippery  |^bs  Ambiton's  steps  betray. 
Tnrnir.g,  with  sighs,  far  spiral  firs  he  sees, 
Which,  bow  obedient  to  the  southern  breeze : 
Now  from  yon  Zemblan  rock  his  crest  he  shrouds, 
like  Fame's,  obscur'd  amid  the  whitening  clouds  | 
Thence  his  lost  empire  is  with  tears  deplor'd : 
Such  tyrants  shed  o'er  liberty  restored. 
Beneath  his  eye  (that  throws  malignant  light. 
Ten  tinjes  the  measured  round  of  mortal  sight) 
A  waste,  pale  glimmering,  like  a  moon  that  wanes, 
A  wild  expanse  of  fros'^en  sea  contains. 
It  cracks ! — vast  floating  moimtains  beat  the  shore ! 
Far  off  he  hears  those  icy  ruins  roar, 
And  from  the  hideous  erash  distracted  flies, 
J. ike  one,  ^ho  feels  his  dying  infant's  cnes. 
Near,  and  more  near  tJie  rushing  torrents  sound, 
Ami  one  great  rifl  runs  through  the  vast  profound. 
Swift  as  a  shooting  meteor ;  groaning  loud, 
IJkc  deep-roird  thunder  through  a  rending  cloud. 
The  late  dark  pole  now  feels  unsetting  day : 
lu  hurricanes  of  wrath  he  whirls  his  way  ; 
O'er  many  a  polar  alp  to  Fro(>t  he  goes. 
O'er  crackling  vales,  embrown'd  with  melting  snows : 
Here  bears  stalk  tenants  of  the  baiTen  ^Kice, 
Few  men,ttnsoc*.al  those ! — a  barbarous  race  ! 
At  length  the  cave  appears  !  the  race  is  run  ; 
How  he  recounts  vast  conquests  lost  and  won, 
And  taleful  in  th'  embrace  of  Prost  remains, 
Barr'd  from  our  climes,  and  bound  in  icy  chains. 

Meanwhile  the  Sun  his  beams  on  Cancer  throws. 
Which  BOW  beneath  his  warmest  influence  glows. 
From  glowing  Cancer  fiillen,  the  king  of  day. 
Red  through  the  kuidlmg  liun  shoots  his  ray. 
The  tawny  harvest  pays  the  earlier  plough. 
And  mellowing  fruitaj^  loads  the  bending  bough. 
Tis  day-spring.     Now  green  labyrinths  1  frequent. 
Where  Wisdom  oft  retires  to  meet  Content 

The  nH)unting1ark  her  waibling  anthem  lends, 
From  note  to  note  the  ravish'd  sonl  ascoids ; 
As  thus  it  would  the  patriarch's  ladder  climb. 
By  some  good  angel  led  to  worlds  subhme : 
Oft  (legends  say)  the  snake,  with  wakened  ire, 
I  jke  Envy  rears  in  many  a  scaly  spire  j 
Then  songsters  droop,  then  yield  their  vital  gore. 
And  innocence  and  music  are  no  more. 

Mild  rides  the  Mom  in  orient  beauty  drest, 
An  azure  mantle,  and  a  purple  vest, 
Mliich,  blown  by  gales,  her  gemmy  feet  display^ 
Her  amiier  tresses  negligently  gay. 
Collected  n«>w  her  rosy  hand  they  fill, 
And,  gently  wrung,  the  pearly  dews  distil,  . 
The  sopgftil  2^hyrs,  and  the  hiughing  Hours,  fers. 
Breathe  sweet ,  and  strew  her  opening  way  with  flow- 

The  chattering  swallows  leave  their  nested  care, 
Kach  promising  retum*with  plenteous  fare, 
So  the  f  md  swain,  who  to  the  market  hies, 
StilU  with  big  hopes,  his  infant's  tender  cries. 

Yonder  two  turtles,  o'er  their  callow  brood, 
Hang  hovering,  ere  they  seek  their  guiltless  food* 
Fbndly  they  bill.     Now  to  their  morning  care, 
Uke  onr  first  parents,  part  the  amoroos  pair : 


But  ah  ! — a  pair  no  more ! — With  spreading  wiqp^r 
From  the  higb-«ounding  clifi' a. Vulture  springs; 
Steady  he  sails  along  th'  aerial  gKy, 
Swoops  down,  and  bears  yon  t'^Tioruus  dove  away. 
Start  we,  who  worse  than  vultures,  Nimrods  find, 
Men  medtattng  prey  on  human  kind  ? 

Wild  beasts  to  gloomy  dens  repace  their  way. 
Where  their  couch'd  young  demand  the  slaugbter'd 

prey. 
Rooks,  from  their  nodding  nests,  black-swarmmg  fiy^ 
And,  in  hoarse  uproar,  tell  the  fuwier  nigh. 

Now,  in  his  tabernacle  rouz'd,  the  Sun 
Is  warn'd  the  blue  etherial  steep  to  run. 
While  on  his  couch  of  floating  jasper  laid, 
Fit>m  bis  bright  eye  Sleep  ca\ls  the  dewy  shade. 
The  crystal  dome  transparent  {Hilars  raise. 
Whence,  beara'd  from  sapphires,  lixin;;  azure  pbys: 
The  liquid  floor,  in-wrought  with  pearls  divipe. 
Where  all  bis  labours  in  mosaic  shine. 
His  coronet,  a  cloud  of  silver-white ; 
His  robe  with  unconsuming  crinison  bright. 
Varied  with  gems,  all  heaven*s  coUected  store  ! 
While  his  loose  locks  descend,  a  golden  shower. 
If  to  his  steps  cumpar'd,  we  tardy  And 
The  Grecian  racers,  who  outstri(4^  the  wind. 
Fleet  to  the  glowing  race  behold  him  start ! 
Mis  quickening  eyes  a  quiver  ng  radiance  dart. 
And,  while  this  lasd  n<icturnal  flag  is  furl'd. 
Swift  into  life  and  motion  look  the  workL.  . 
'Hie  sun- flower  how  averts  her  bloomim^  check 
From  Vest,  to  view  his  eastern  lustre  break. 
What  gny,  creative,  power  his  presence  brings  ! 
Hills,  lawns,  lakes,  villages  !-*thefaee  of  UungSy 
All  night  beneath  succe»^ivc  shadows  miss'd, 
lastant  begins  in  colonic  to  exist : 
But  absent  these  from  sons  of  riot  keep, 
T^ost  in  impure,  unmeditating  sleep. 
T  unlock  his  fience,  the  ncw-risen  swain  prepares. 
And  ere  forth-driven  recounts  his  fleecy  cares ; 
When,  lo !  an.  ambush'd  wolf,  with  hunger  bold. 
Springs  at  the  prey,  and  tierce  invades  the  foki  \ 
But  by  the  pastor  not  in  vain  detied. 
Like  our  arch  foe  by  some  celestial  gukle. 

Spread  on  yon  ro<:k  th<i  sea-calf  I  survey : 
Bask'd  in  the  sun,  his  skin  reflects  the  day. 
He  sees  yon  tower -like  ship  tlie  waves  divide. 
And  slips  again  beneath  the  glassy  tide.  fen. 

The  watery  herbs,  and  sl.rubs,  and  vines,  and  flow- 
Rear  their  bent  heads,  o'ercharg'd  with.nightly  show- 
Hail,  glorious  Sun  !  to  whose  attractive  fires,  [e»» 
The  weaken'd,  vegetative  life  aspires ! 
The  juices,  wiwght  by  thy  directive  force. 
Thro'  plants,  and  trees,  perform  their  genial  coarse. 
Extend  in  root,  with  bark  unyielding  tand 
The  hearted  trunk ;   or  weave  the  branching  rind  ; 
Expand  in  leaves,  m  flowery  blossoms  shoot. 
Bleed  in  rich  gums,  and  swell  in  ripen'd  fruit. 
From  thee,  bright,  universal  power  !  began 
Instinct  in  brute,  and  geoerons  love  in  man. 

T^k'd  1  of  love  ?— -Yon  swain,  with  amorougairn 
Soft  swells  his  pipe,  to  charm  the  rural  fiur. 
She  milks  the  flocks;  then,  listening  as  he  plays. 
Steals,  in  the  running  brook,  a  conscious  gaze. 

The  tfoat,  thatdeqs  in  winter^  Ofoas'd  remanu^ 
Up-springs,  and  sunward  turns  its  crimson  < 
Tlie  tenants  of  the  warren,  vainly  chas'd ; 
Now  lur'd  to  ambient  fields  for  g^reen  repast. 
Seek  their  small  vaulted  labyrinths  ia  vain  i 
Entangling  nets  betny  ibe.  du^qpiAg  ti^  ^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  WANDERER— Canto  V, 


311 


Ued  massacres  throagb  thehr  republic  Ay, 
And  heaps  on  heaps  by  mthiess  tpanieb  die. 

The  fisher,  who  the  lonely  beach  has  strayed. 
And  all  the  live-knifl:  w|^ht  his  net-work  spi^ad. 
Drags  in,  and  bean  the  loaded  anare  away ; 
Where  flounce,  deceived,  th*  cacpiring  finny  prey. 

Near  Neptune's  temple  (Neptune's  now  no  more), 
Whoae  statue  plants  a  trident  <m  the  shore. 
In  sportiTo  rings  the  generous  dulphioa  wind, 
And  eye,  and  think  the  ivage  human-kind  t 
Dear.pleasingfriendship! — See!  the  pile  commands 
The  Tale,  and  grim  at  Superstition  stands ! 
Time's  band  there  leaves  its  print  of  mossy  green. 
With  hollows,  carv'd  for  snakes,  and  hirds  obscene. 

O  Gibbs,  whose  art  the  solemn  fane  can  raise. 
Where  God  delights  to  dweU,  and  man  to  praise ; 
When  rooulder'd  thus  the  column  falls  away, 
Like  some  great  prince  majestic  in  decay  ; 
When  Ignorance  and  Scorn  the  ground  shall  tread, 
Where  Wisdom  tutor'd,  and  Devotion  pray'd  ; 
Where  shall  thy  pompous  work  our  wonder  claim : 
What,  but  the  Muse  alone,  preserve  thy  name  ? 

The  Sun  shines,  brakeo,  through  yon  arch  that 
Thts  once-round  fabric^  half  deprived  by  years,  [rears 
Which  rose  a  stately  cokmnade,  and  crown'd 
Encircling  pillars  now  unfiuthful  found ; 
In  fracments,  these  the  fall  of  those  forebode. 
Which,  nodding,  just  up-beav«f  their  cnimbling  load. 
High,  on  yon  colanm,  which  has  batter'd  stood, 
like  somr  stripped  oak,  the  grandeur  of  the  wood. 
The  stork  inhabits  her  aeriel  nert; 
By  her  are  liberty  and  peace  carest; 
She  flies  the  realms  that  own  despotic  kings. 
And  only  spreads  o'er  (ree<bom  states  her  wings. 
The  roof  »  now  the  daw's,  or  raven's  haunt. 
And  kiotlMome  toads  in  the  dark  entrance  pant ; 
Or  snakes,  that  lurk  to  snap  the  heedless  fly, 
And  fot^  bird,  that  oft  comes  fluttering  by. 

An  aqueduct  across  yon  vale  is  laid. 
Its  channel  through  a  ruin'd  arch  betray'd ; 
Wbirl»d  down  a  steep,  rt  flies  with  torrent-force. 
Flashes,  and  roant,  and  plows  a  devious  course. 

Attracted  misu  a  golden  cloud  commence. 
While  thnmgh  bigh«colour'd  air  strike  rays  intense. 
Betwixt  two  points,  which  yon  steep  mountains  show, 
lies  a  mild  bay,  to  which  kind  breezes  flow. 
Beneath  a  grotto,  arcli'd  for  calm  retreat* 
Leads  lengthening  in  the  rock-^Be  this  my  seat. 
Heat  never  enters  here ;  but  Coolness  reigns 
0»er  zephyrs,  and  distilling,  watery  veins. 
Secluded  now  I  trace  th'  instructive  page. 
And  live  o*er  scenes  of  many  a  backward  age ; 
Through   days,  months,  years,    through  Time's 

whole  coarse  I  run. 
And  present  stand  where  Time  itself  begun. 

Ye  mighty  dead,  of  just,  distinguished  fame, 
Yonr  thooghts,  (ye  bright  instructors ! )  here  Idaim. 
Here  ancient  knowledge  opens  Nature's  springs ; 
Here  truths  historie  give  the  hearts  of  kings. 
Hence  contemplation  learns  white  hours  to  find. 
And  labours  virtue  on  th'  attentive  mind: 
O  lov'd  retnat !  thy  joys  content  bestow, 
Nor  guilt,  nor  shame,  nor  sharp  Tepentaooe  know. 
What  the  fifth  Charles  long  aim'd  in  power  to  see. 
That  happineiB  be  found  reserv'd  m  thee. 

^ow  let  me  change  the  page— Here  Tully  waeps, 
While  hi  Death's  ioy  arms  his  Tulba  sleeps, 
His  dangbter  dear  I— Retii'd  I  see  him  OKmni, 
By  all  the  fireazy  sow  of  maguisbtom. 


Wild  his  complaint !    Nor  sweeter  sorrow's  strsuns. 
When  Stpger  for  Alexis  lost  complains. 
Each  friend  condoles,  expostulates,  reproves ; 
More  than  a  father  raving  Tully  loves; 
Or  Sallust  censures  thus  ! — Unheeding  blame. 
He  scht^mes  a  temple  to  his  Tullia's  name. 
Thus  o'er  my  Hermit  once  did  grief  prevail, 
Thus  rose  Olympia's  tomb,  bis  moving  tale. 
The  sighs,  tears,^  frantic  starts,  that  banish  rest. 
And  all  the  bursting  sorrows  of  his  breast. 

But  bark  !  a  sudden  pjwer  attunes  the  air ! 
Tb'  enchanting  sound  enamour'd  breezes  bear ; 
Now  low,  BOW  high,  they  sink,  or  lift  the  song. 
Which  the  cave  echoes  sweet,  and  sweet  the  creeks 
prolong. 

I  listen'd,  gaz'd,  when,  wondrous  to  behold  ! 
From  otean  kteam'd,  a  vapour  gathering.roll'd : 
A  blue,  round  spot  on  the  mid-roof  it  came. 
Spread  broad,  and  redden'd  into  dazzling  flame. 
Full  orb'd  it  shone,  and  dimm'd  the  swimming  sights 
While  doubling  objects  damc'd  with  darkling  light* 
Amaz'd  1  stood ! — amaz'd  I  still  remabi ! 
What  earthly  power  this  wonder  can  explain 
Gradual,  at  length,  the  lustre  dies  away : 
My  ejres  restor'd,  a  mortal  form  survey. 
MyHermit-friend!  Tishe.--*' All  hail!"  (hecriesji 
"  I  dee,  and  would  allemte,  thy  surprise. 
The  vanished  meteor  was  Heaven's  message  meant. 
To  warn  thee  hence :  I  knew  the  high  intent. 
Hear  then !  in  this  seque&ter'd  cave  retir'd. 
Departed  saints  converse  with  men  inspir'd. 
Tis  sacred  ground ;  nor  can  thy  mind  endure. 
Yet  unprepar'd,  au  intcrcourK  so  pure. 
Quick  let  us  hence. — And  now  extend  thy  views 
0*er  yonder  lawn  i  there  find  the  heaven-born  Muse! 
Or  seek  her,  where  she  trusts  her  tunefiil  tale 
To  the  mid,  silent  wood,  or  vocal  vale ',       [shades. 
Where  trees  half  check  the  light  with  trembling 
Close  in  deep  glooms,  or  open  clear  in  glades  ; 
Or  where  surrounding  vistas  fieu'  descend. 
The  landscape  varied  at  each  lessening  end ; 
She,  only  she  can  mortal  thought  refine. 
And  raise  thy  voioe  to  visitants  divine." 

CANTO  V. 

We  left  the  cave.    ««  Be  Fear"  (said  I)  "  defy'd ! 
Virtue  (for  thou  art  Virtue)  is  my  guide." 
By  time-worn  steps  a  steep  ascent  we  gain. 
Whose  summit  yields  a  prospect  o*er  the  plain. 
There,  bench'd  with  turf,  an  oak  our  seat  extends. 
Whose  top  a  verdant,  branch'd  pavilion  bends. 
Vistas,  witli  ioaves,  diversify  the  scene. 
Some  pale,  some  brown,  and  some  of  lively  green. 

Now,  from  the  fidl-grown  day  a  beamy  shower 
Gleams  on  the  lake,  and  gilds  each  glossy  flower. 
Gay  insects  sparkle  in  the  genial  blaze. 
Various  as  light,  and  countless  as  its  rays: 
They  danca  on  every  stream,  and  pictur'd  play. 
Till,  by  the  watery  lacer,  snatch'd  away. 

Now,  from  yon  range  of  rocks,  strong  rays  rebound, 
Doubling  the  day  on  flowery  plains  around : 
King-cups  beneath  for-striking  ookxirs  glance. 
Bright  as  th*  etherial  glows  the  green  expanse. 
Gems  of  the  field ! — the  topaz  charms  the  sight. 
Like  these,  eflulging  yellow  streams  of  light. 
Froa^  the  same  rocks,  fall  rills  with  soften'd  force,. 
Meat  in  ypn  mead^  and  well  %  river's  source. 


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SIf 


SAVAGED  P0EM5. 


Through  her  dear  rhaimel  sbine  her  finny  shoaU, 
O'er  saAds,  like  gold,  the  liquid  crysUl  rolls. 
Dimm  4  in  yon  coarser  moor,  her  charm*  decay, 
And  shape,  through  nistling  reeds,,  a  ruffled  way. 
Near  willowK  short  and  bushy  shadows  throw: 
Now  lost,  she  seems  thit>itgh  nether  tracts  to  flow ; 
'  Yet,  at  yon  point,  wmds  out  in  silver  state. 
Like  Virtlie  from  a  labyrinth  of  fiite. 
In  lengthening  rows,  prone  from  the  mountains,  run 
The  flocks .- — their  fleeces  glistening  in  the  sun; 
Ilet  streams  they  seek,  and,  'twixt  her  noighbourins 
Kcclfaie  in  various  attitudes  of  ens**.  [trees, 

Where  the  herds  sip,  the  little  scaly  fry, 
S^wft  from  the  sliore,  in  scattenng  myriads  fly. 

Each  livery 'd  cloud,  that  roimd  th'  horizon  priows. 
Shifts  in  odd  scenes,  like  Earth,  from  whence  it  rose. 
The  bee  hums  wanton  in  yon  jasmine  bower# 
And  circling  settles,  and  despoils  the  flower. 
Melodious  there  the  ptumy  songsters  meet,  ' 
And  call  charm 'd  Fx»ho  from  her  archM  retreat 
Neat  polish'd  mansions  rise  in  prospect  gay ; 
Time-batter*d  towers  froww  awful  in  decay  j 
The  Sun  plays  glittering  on  the  rocks  and  spires. 
And  the  lawn  lightens  with  reflected  fires. 

Here  Mirth,  and  Fancy's  wanton  train  advance, 
Add  to  Kgbt  measures  turn  the  swimming  danoe. 
Sweet,  slow-pac  d  Melanchoty  next  appears, 
Pompous  in  grief,  and  eloquent  of  tears. 
Here  MHitation  shines,  in  azure  drest, 
AU-starrM  with  gems ;  a  son  adorns  her  crest 
Religion,  fo  whose  lifted,  raptur'd  eyes 
Sftraphic  hfists  descend  from  opening  skies ; 
Beauty,  who  sways  the  heart,  and  charms  the  sight ; 
Whose  tongue  is  music,  and  whose  smile  delight ; 
A^hose  brow  h  majesty ;  whose  bosom  peace  ; 
Who  bade  creation  be,  and  chaos  cease  j 
Whose  breath  perfumes  thespring ;  ^hosee^  c  divine 
Kindletl  the  Sun,. and  gave  itshght  to  shine. 
Here,  in  thy  likeness,  ftiir  Ophelia  ' ,  se^'n. 
She  throw*  kind  lu«.ti-e  o'erth*  enliven 'd  green- 
Next  her  Description,  rob'd  m  various  hues, 
Invites  attention  from  the  pensive  Muse  ! 
iW^Tuse  !— she  corner  I  reftn  <i  the  Passions  wait, 
And  Precept,  ever  winning,  wise,  and  great 
The  Mosc  !  a  tlioo^^nd  spirits  wing  the  air 
(Once  men,  who  made  like  her  mankiml  their  care) : 
Enamoured  round  her  press  th*  inspiring  throng, 
And  swell  to  ecstacy  her  solemn  song. 

Th\«  in  the  dame  each  nobler  gi-ac^  we  find, 
Fair  Wortley*s  angel-accent,  eyes,  and  mind. 
Whether  her  sight  the  dew-bright  dawn  siirvevsj 
The  noon*s  dry  heat,  or  evening's  tempCr'd  rays, 
The  hours  of  storm,  or  calm,  tin;  gleby  ground. 
The  coral'd  sea,  gemM  rock,  or  sky  profound, 
A  Rapl&ael's  lancy  animates  each  line. 
Each  imagv)  strikes  with  energy  divine  ; 
Bacon  and  Newton  in  her  thoughts  conspire; 
Nor  sweeter  than  her  voice  is  Hande^s  lyre. 

Mv  Hermit  thus.     "  She  beckons  us  away : 
Oh,  let  us  swift  the  high  behest  obey  !**        fcrost. 

Now  through  a  lan(%  which  mingling  tracts  have 
The  way  unequal,  and  the  landscape  lost, 
Wc  rove.    The  warblers  lively  tunes  essay. 
The  lark  on  wing,  the  linnet  on  the  spray. 
While  music  trembles  in  their  songful  throats. 
The  bullfinch  whistles  soft  his  flute-like  notes. 
The  bolder  blackbird  swells  sonorous  lays ; 
The  faryiog  thrush  commands  a  tuneful  maze  ; 
1  Mrs.  Oldfield. 


Each  a  wild  length, of  ntelody  pmsiMv ; 
While  the  soft  munminng,  amorous  wood-doveeoott 
And,  when  in  spring  these  melting  mbctitres  fiow. 
The  cuckoo  sends  her  unison  of  woe. 

But  as  smooth  seas  are  farrowed  by  a  storm; 
As  troubles  all  our  tranquil  ^ioys  deform  ; 
8i),  load  throiT«;h  air,  unwelcome  noises  sound, 
And  harmony^s  at  oace,  in  discord,  drowned. 
From  yon  daJrtc  cypress,  croaks  tlie  raveD*s  ay  » 
As  dissonant  th«  daw,  jay,  shattering  pie  : 
The  clamorous  crows  abandoned  carnage  seek. 
And  the  harsh  owl  shrills  out  a  sharpening  shride. 

At  the  lano'F  end  a  high-lath'd  gaiters  prefer'd^ 
To  bar  the  trespass  of  a  vagrant  herd. 
Fast  by,  a  me.igre  mendicant  we  find, 
Whose  rnf^sft  rags  hang  fiuttering  in  the  wind  s 
Years  bow  his  back,  a  staff  supports  his  tread. 
And  soft  white  hairs  sluide  thin  his  palsy*d  head. 
Poor  wretch  !— Is  this  for  charity  hia  haunt  ? 
He  meets  the  frequent  slight,  aiiid  ruthless  taunt 
On  slaves  of  guilt  oft  smiles  the  squandering  peer  ; 
But  passing  knows  not  common  bounty  here, 
^ain  thing  !  in  what  dost  thon  superior  thine  ? 
I!is  onr  first  sire :  what  race  more  ancient  thine? 
f^ess  backward  trac'd,  he  may  his  lineage  draw 
FjTom  men,  whose  influence  kept  the  world  m  awer 
Whose  worthless  sons,  like  thee,  perchance  coQSum*d 
Their  ample  store,  their  line  to  want  wnsdoom^d* 
So  tliine  may  perish,  by  the  coortie  of  things. 
While  his,  from  beggars,  re^ascend  to  kinf^ 
Now,  lazar,  as  thy  hardships  I  peruse, 
On  my  own  state  instmcted  would  1  muse. 
When  I  view  greatness,  I  my  lot  lament ; 
Compared  to  thee,  I  snatch  supreme  content 
I  might  have  felt,  did  Heaven  not  gracious  deal, 
A  fate,  which  I  must  nwum  to  tee  thee  feel. 
Bol^  soft  I  the  cripple  our  approach  descries. 
And  to  the  gate,  though  weak,  ofitcions  hies. 
I  spring  preventive,  and  unbar  the  way, 
Tl^en,  tumine,  with  a  smile  of  pity,  say, 
**  Here,  friend  ! — this  littJe  copper  alms  rcceiye. 
Instance  of  will,  without  the  power  to  give. 
Hermit,  if  here  with  pity  we  reflect, 
How  must  we  grieve,  wlien  learning  meets  neglect  ? 
When  God-I.ke  souls  endiuv  a  mean  restraint ; 
When  generons  will  is  curbM  by  tyrant  want  ? 
He  truly  feels  what  to  distress  belongs, 
U'ho  to  his  private,  adds  a  people's  wrongs ; 
Merit 's  a  mark,  at  which  disgrace  is  thrown, 
And  every  injured  virtue  is  his  own. 
Such  their  own  pangs  with  patience  here  endure. 
Yet  there  weep  wounds,  they  are  denied  to  cure  2 
Thus  rich  in  poverty,  thus  humbly  great. 
And,  though  depressed,  snperior  to  their  fiite. 
Minions  m  power,  and  misers,  >mid  their  store. 
Are  mean  in  greatness,  and  in  plenty  poor.       [aWt, 
What*8  power,  or  wealth  ?  Were  they  not  formed  for 
A  spiing  for  virtue,  and  from  wrongs  a  shade  } 
In  power  we  savage  tyranny  behold. 
And  wily  avari^  owns  polluted  gold. 
Prom  golden-sandy  her  pride  coidd  Libya  raite. 
Could  she,  who  spreads  no  pasture,  claim  oar  praiw  } 
Loath'd  wer^  her  wealth,  where  rabid  monstefs  breed; 
Where  serpents,  pamper*d  on  her  venom,  fMd, 
No  sheltery  trees  hivite  the  Wanderer*!  eye. 
No  fSroHi,  no  gram,  no  gums,  her  tracts  aujqply  ; 
On  her  vast  wilds  no  lovely  prospectv  run ; 
But  all  lies  barrco,  thengh  beneath  tht  SMa.**  - 


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THE  wanderer-Canto  v. 


315 


My  HeniHt  thiw.     •'  I  know  thy  wal  belicwi, 
*'n»  bard  rice  triumphs,  and  that  virtue  grieves  j 
Yet  oft  mlttictioa  puriOes  the  miad, 
Kind  benefits  4>ft  Aow  from  mean?  unkind. 
Were  the  whole  known,  that  we  tmcoath  snppose, 
Doabtlpss,  wmikl  beauteous  syounetry  disclose. 
1^  naked  cliff,  that  singly  rough  remains, 
hi  prospect  dignVtiea  the  fertiU*  plains ; 
Lead -colour  d  clouiH,  in  scattenng  fratpn^nts  seen, 
Shaw,  thoogh  in  broken  viewf,  the  bhie  serene. 
Severe  dlstmwes  industry  inspire ; 
Thus  eaptives  oft  eicelling  arte  acquire. 
And  boldly  struggle  through  a  state  of  shame. 
To  li^  ease,  plenty,  liberty,  and  &me. 
Sword-law  has  often  Kurope*s  balance  gainVi, 
And  one  red  victory  years  of  peace  maiAtain*d. 
We  passthrongh  wantto  weakh,  through  dismal  strife 
To  calm  content;  through  death  to  endless  life. 
Libya  thou  nam'st — Let  Afric's  wastes  appear 
Cotft  by  thww  heats,  that  froctify  the  year ; 
Yet  the  same  snns  her  orange-groves  befriend, 
Where  clustering  globes  in  shining  rows  depend. 
Here  when  fierce  beams  o'er  withering  plants  are 

roird. 
There  the  green  fruit  seems  ripen*d  into  gold 
Ev*n  scenes  that  strike  with  terrible  surprise, 
Still  prove  a  God,  jnst,  roercifol,  and  wise. 
Sad  wintery  blasts,  that  atrip  the  autumn,  bring 
The  milder  beanties  of  a  flcmery  spring, 
Ye  sulphnrons  Urea  in  jaggy  lightnings  break ; 
Ye  thnodcrs  rattle,  and  ye  nations  shake  ! 
Ye  storms  of  riving  flame  the  forest  tear ! 
Deep  crack  the  rocks  !  rent  trees  be  whirPd  in  air ! 
Reft  at  a  stroke,  some  stately  fane  we*ll  mourn ; 
}f  er  tombs  wide-shatter*d,  and  her  dead  up-torn ; 
Were  noxious  spirits  not  from  caverns  drawn 
RackM  Earth  wooM  soon  in  gulfs  enormous  yawn  : 
Then  all  were  lost ! — Or  wouW  we  floating  view 
The  balefid clood,  there  would  destruction  brew; 
Plague,  fever,  frenzy,  close-engendering  lie. 
Till  these  red  ruptures  cl«!ar  the  sullied  sky.'' 

Now  a  field  opens  to  enlarge  my  thought. 
In  parcerd  tracts  to  various  uses  wrought 
Here  hardening  ripeness  the  first  bkxmis  behold. 
There  the  last  bibssoms  spring-like  pride  unfold; 
Here  swelling  peas  on  leafy  stalks  are  seen, 
Mix'd  flowers  of  red  and  azure  shine  between ; 
Whose  weaving  beauties,  heightenM  by  the  Sun, 
in  ookmr'd  lanes  along  the  furrows  run. 
There  the  next  produce  of- a  genial  shower. 
The  bean's  firesh-blotsoros  in  a  speckled  flower ; 
Whose  morning  dews,  when  to  the  San  resign'd. 
With  undnUting  sweets  embahn  the  wind. 
"Som  daisy  plats  of  clover  square  the  plain. 
And  part  the  bearded  from  the  beardless  graio. 
There  fibrous  flax  with  verdure  binds  the  field, 
Which  on  the  kmm  shall  art^spun  labours  ykAd, 
The  mulberry,  in  fair  summer-green  arrayU, 
Fall  in  the  midst  starts  up,  a  silky  shade. 
For  human  taste  the  rich-stain*d  fmitage  bleeds ; 
The  lesf  the  silk -emitting  reptile  feeds, 
As  swans  their  down,  as  flocks  their  fleeces  leave. 
Here  worms  for  man  their  gloKy  entrails  weave. 
Hence,  to  adorn  the  flur,  in  texture  gay, 
%rigt,  fruits,  and  flowers  on  figured  vestments  play : 
Bat  Industry  prepares  them  oft  to  please 
The  gailty  pnde  of  vain,  loxnriant  ease. 

Now  fraqnent,  dusty  gales  oflfensife  blow. 
And  o*er  my  sight  a  transient  hlindneas  throw. 


Windward  we  shift      N«kr  down  th'  etherial  steep 
llie  lamp  of  day  hangs  hovering  o^er  the  deep. 
Dun  shades,  in  rocky  shapes  up  ether  roll*d, 
Pn^ect  kmg,  shaggy  points,  deep-ting'd  with  gold* 
Others  take  ftiint  th*  unripen'd  cherry's  die. 
And  paint  amusing  lamhcapes  on  the  eye. 
Their  blne-veil'd  yellow,  through  a  sky  serene 
In  swelling  mhctore  forms  a  floating  green,   [shmev, 
Streak*d   through  white  clouds  a  mild  vermilioa 
And  the  breeze  freshens,  as  the  heat  declines. 

Yon  crooked,  simny  roads  change  rising  views 
From  hrown  to  sandy  red,  and  chalky  hues. 
One  mingled  scene  another  quick  succeeds. 
Men,  chariots,  teams,  yok'd  steers,  and  prancing 

steeds. 
Which  climb,  descend,  and,  as  loud  whips  resound. 
Stretch,  sweat,  and  smoke  along  unequal  ground. 
On  wiading  Thames,  reflectin|p  radiant  beams. 
When   boats,  ships,  barges  mark  the  roughen'd 

streams. 
This  way,  and  that,  they  diflTerent  points  pursue  ; 
So  mix  the  motions,  and  sb  shifts  the  view. 
While  thus  we  throw  around  onr  gladden*d  eyes. 
The  gifts  of  Heaven  in  gay  profusion  rise ; 
Trees  rich  with  gums,  and  fruits ;  with  jewels  rocks ; 
Plains  with  flowers,  herbs,  and  planti,  and  beeves, 

and  flocks ; 
Monnfains  with  mines  ;  with  oak,  and  cedar,  woods  ; 
Quarries  with  marble,  and  with  fish  the  floods. 
In  darkening  spots,  mid  fields  of  various  dics» 
Tilth  new  manur'd,  or  nakad  fidlow  lies. 
Near  uplands  fertile  pride  enclos'd  display, 
The  green  grass  yellowing  into  scentful  hay. 
And  thick-set  hedges  fence  the  full-ear'd  oor% 
And  benies  blacken  on  the  virid  thorn. 
Mark  in  yon  heath  oppos'd  the  caltur'd  scene, 
WHd  thjrme,  pale  box,  and  firs  of  darker  green.  • 
The  native  strawberry  red-ripening  grows. 
By  nettles  guarded,  as  by  thorns  the  rose. 
There  nightingales  in  unprun'd  copses  build. 
In  shaggy  furzes  lies  the  hare  conceaPd* 
Twixt  ferns  and  thistles,  unsown  flowers  amuse. 
And  form  a  lucid  chase  of  various  hues ; 
Many  half-grey  with  dust :  confus'd  titey  lie. 
Scent  the  rich  year,  and  lead  the  wandering  eye. 

Contemplative,  we  tfead  the  flowery  plain. 
The  Muse  preceding  with  her  heavenly  train. 
When,  lo  !  the  mendicant,  so  Tate  behind. 
Strange  view !  now  journeying  in  our  front  we  find  I 
And  yet  a  view,  more  strange,  our  heed  demands : 
Touch'd  by  the  Muse's  wand  transform'd  he  stands. 
0*er  skin  late  wrinkled,  instant  beauty  spruuls  ; 
The  late-dimm'd  eye,  a  virid  lustre  sheds ; 
Hairs  once  so  thin,  now  graceful  locks  decline ; 
And  rags  now  chang'd,  in  regal  vestments  shine. 

The  Hermit  thus.    "  In  him  the  Bard  behold. 
Once  seen  by  midnight's  lamp  in  winter's  cold  ; 
Hie  Bard,  whose  want  so  multiplied  his  woes. 
He  sunk  a  mortal,  and  a  seraph  rose. 
See  ! — ^wbere  those  stately  yew-trees  darkling  grow, 
And,  waving  o'er  yon  graves,  brown  horrours  throw. 
Scornful  he  points— there,  o'er  bis  sacred  dust, 
Arise  the  sculptur'd  tomb,  and  labour'd  bust 
Vain  pomp  !  bestow'd  by  ostentatious  pride. 
Who  to  a  life  of  want  relief  deny*d." 

But  thus  the  Bard.     *•  Are  these  the  gifls  of  state? 
Gifts  unreceiv'd  ? — These  !  Ye  ungenerous  great  I 
How  was  I  treated  when  in  UfefbrJom  } 
My  claim  your  pity ;  but  my  lot  your  scorn. 


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914 


SAVAGES  POEMS. 


Why  were  my  studioot  boars  opposM  by  need  ? 
In  me  did  poverty  from  gailt  proceed  ? 
Did  I  contemporary  authors  wrong'. 
And  deem  their  worth,  but  as  they  priz*d  my  song  ? 
Did  I  sooth  vice,  or  venal  strokes  betray, 
In  the  low-purpoeM,  loud  polemic  fray  ? 
Bid  e*er  my  verse  immodest  warmth  contain. 
Or,  once-licentious,  heaiwnly  truths  profane  ? 
Never. — And  yet  when  envy  sunk  my  name. 
Who  call*d  my  shadow'd  merit  into  hme  ? 
When  undesenr»d,  a  prison's  grate  I  saw, 
What  hand  redeemed  me  from  the  wrested  law  ? 
Who  cloath*d  me  naked,  or  when  hungry  fed  ? 
Why  crushed  the  living  ?  Why  extoird  the  dead  ? — 
But  foreign  languages  adopt  my  la}'s, 
And  distant  nations  shame  you  into  praise. 
Why  should  unrelish'd  wit  these  honours  cause  } 
Custom,  not  knowledge,  dictates  your  applause : 
Or  think  you  thus  a  self-renown  to  raise. 
And  mingle  your  vain^glories  with  my  bays  ^ 
Be  yours  the  moiddering tomb ?     Be  mine  the  lay 
Immortal ! — **  Thus  he  scoflSi  the  pomp  away. 
Though  words  like  these  unlettered  pride  impeach. 
To  the  meek  heart  he  turns  with  milder  speech. 
Though  now  a  seraph,  oft  he  deigns  to  wear 
llie  face  of  human  friendship,  oft  of  care ; 
To  walk  disguis'd  an  object  of  reUef, 
A  leam'd.  good  man,  long  exercised  in  grief; 
Forlorn,  a  friendless  orphan  6ft  to  roam. 
Craving  some  kind,  some  hospitable  home ; 
Or,  like  Ulysses,  a  low  lazar  stand  ; 
Beseeching  Pity*s  eye,  and  Bounty's  hand  j 
Or,  like  Ulysses,  royal  aid  request. 
Wandering  from  court  to  court,  a  king  distrest 
Thus  varying  shapes,  the  seeming  son  of  woe 
Eyes  the  cold  heart  and  hearts  that  generous  glow : 
Then  to  the  Muse  relate  each  lordly  name, 
Who  deals  impartial  infamy  aud  fkme. 
Oft,  as  when  man  in  morUl  stote  depressed. 
His  lays  taught  virtue,  which  his  life  cunfrss'd. 
He  now  forms  visionary  scenes  below, 
Inspiring  patience  in  the  heart  of  woe  ; 
Patience,  that  softens  every  sad  extreme,    fglcam, 
That  caf^ts  '^trough  dungeon-glotuns   a   cht^rfiil 
Disarms  disease  of  pain,  mocks  slander's  sting. 
And  strips  of  terrours  thft  terrific  king, 
^'ainst  Want,  a  sourer  foe,  its  succour  lends. 
And  smiling  sees  th'  ingratitude  of  frit- nds. 

Nor  are  these  tasks  to  him  alone  consigned. 
MlHioos  invisible  befriend  mankind. 
When  watery  structures,  seen  cross  Heaven  t'  ascend, 
Arch  above  arch  in  radiant  order  beud, 
Fancy  beholds,  adown  each  glittering  side. 
Myriads  of  missionary  seraphs  glide ; 
She  sees  good  angels  genial  showers  bestow 
From  the  red  convex  of  the  dewy  bow. 
They  smile  upon  the  swam :  He  views  the  prize ; 
Then  grateful  bends j  to  bless  the  bounteous  skies. 
Some  winds  collect,  and  send  propitious  gales 
Oft  where  Britannia's  navy  spreads  her  sails ; 
There  ever  wafting,  on  the  breath  of  &me. 
Unequal^  glory  in  her  sovereign's  name,  { 

Some  teach  young  zepbjrrs  vernal  sweets  to  be«r» 
And  float  the  babny  health  on  ambient  air  } 
Zephyrs,  that  oft,  where  bvers  listen'mg  lie, 
Along  the  grove  in  melting  music  die. 
And  in  lone  caves  to  minds  poetic  roll 
Seraphic  whispers,  that  alwtnct  the  jkwU 


Some  range  the  colonn,  as  tti^  patted  fly, 
Clear-pointed  to  the  philosophic  eye ; 
The  flamrag  red,  that  pains  the  dwelling  gaxc  % 
The  stainless,  lightsome  yell«>w's  gilding  rsys; 
The  clouded  orange,  that  betwhct  them  glows. 
And  to  kind  mixture  tawny  lustre  owe^ ; 
All-cheering  green,  that  gives  the  spring  its  dye ; 
I'he  bright,  trampaft;nt  blue,  that  robes  the  sky ; 
And  indig«,  which  shaded  lii^t  displays ; 
And  violet,  which  in  the  view  decays. 
Parental  hues,  whence  others  all  proceed  ; 
An  ever-mingling,  changeful,  countkis  breed  ; 
Unravel 'd,  variegated,  lines  of  light, 
When  blended,  dazzling  in  promiscuous  white. 
Oft  through  these  bows  departed  spirits  range. 
New  to  the  skies,  admiring  at  their  change  ; 
Each  mind  a  void,  as  when  first  bom  to  eaitb, 
Behold  a  second  blank  in  second  birth ; 
Then,  as  yon  seraph  bard  fram  d  heart*  bebw. 
Each  sov*  him  here  transcendent  knowledge  show, 
New  saints  he  tutors  into  truth  refin'd. 
And  tunes  to  rapturous  love  the  new-fbrm*d  mind. 
He  swells  the  lyre,  whose  loud,  melodious  lajrs 
Call  high  Hosannas  from  the  voice  of  praise ; 
Though  one  bad  age  such  poesy  could  wrong. 
Now  worlds  around  retentive  roll  the  song  : 
Now  Ood's  high  til  rone  the  fult-jroicM  raptures  gais, 
Celestial  hosts  returning  strain  for  strain. 

Tlius  he,  who  <iuce  knew  want  without  relief, 
Sees  joys  resulting  frrjm  well -suffering  grief. 
Hark  !  while  we  talk,  a  distant  pattering  raia 
Resounds ! — St«  !  up  the  broad  etherial  plain 
Shoots  the  oright  bow  ! — ^The  seraph  flits  away  f 
The  Muse,  the  f^races  from  our  view  decay. 

Behind  yon  western  hill  the  globe  of  light 
Drops  inidden  ;  fast-pursued  by  shades  of  night 

Yon  graves  fu»m  winter-scenes  to  mind  recall 
Rebellion's  council,  and  rebellion's  fisll. 
What  fiends  ra  sulphurous,  car-like  clouds  np-flew 
What  midnight  treason  glar'd  beneath  their  view  ! 
And  now  the  traitors  rear  their  Babel-schemes, 
Big,  and  more  big,  stupendous  mischief  seems  ; 
But  Justice,  rous'd,  superior  strength  empkijrs, 
Their  scheme  wide  shatters,  and  Uieir  hope  destroys. 
Discord  she  wills ;  the  missile  ruin  flies  ; 
Sudden,  unnatural  debates  arise. 
Doubt,  mutual  jealousy,  and  dumb  ditigost. 
Dark-hinted  mutterings,  and  avow'd  distrust ; 
1*0  secret  ferment  is  each  heart  resign'd ; 
Suspicion  hovers  in  each  clouded  mind ; 
They  jar,  accus*d  accuse,  revil'd  revile. 
And  warmth  to  warmth  oppose,  and  guile  to  guile ; 
Wranglmg  they  part,  themselves  themselves  betray  « 
Each  dire  device  starts  naked  into  day ; 
They  fed  confusion  in  the  van  with  fear ; 
They  feel  the  king  of  terrours  in  the  rear. 

Of  these  were  three  by  different  motives  fir'd^ 
Ambition  one,  and  one  Revenge  inspired. 
The  third,  O  Mammom  was  thy  meaner  slavey 
Tb^u  idol  seldom  of  the  great  and  b^ve!. 

Florio,  whose  life  was  one  continued  feaal, 
His-wealtb  diminisb'd,  and  his  debts  increat'd^ 
Vaip  pomp,  and  eouipage,  his  low  desires^ 
Who  ne'er  to  intelteoual  bliss  aspires ; 
He,  to  repair  by  vice  what  vice  has  broke. 
Durst  with  bold  treasons  judgment's  rod  provoke. 
His  strength  of  mind,  by  luxury  half  dissolvVl, 
111  brooM  the  woe,  wfaered^ep  It^ttaxv^  invglv'At 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  WANDERER— Canto  V. 


515 


Re  woe^  stamps  wild,  and  to  and  fro  now  flies ; 
Now  wrings  hiti  hands,  and  sends  unmanly  cries. 
Arraigns  bis  judgv,  affirms  unjiist  be  bleeds. 
And  now  reCants,  and  now  fur  mercy  pleads ; 
Stm  blames  associates,  raves  with  inward  strife. 
Upbraids  himself;  then  thinks  alone  on  life. 
lie  folis  red  swelling,  tearful  eyes  around. 
Sore  smites  his  breast  and  sinks  upon  the  ground, 
lie  wails,  he  quite  desponds,  convulsive  lies, 
Khriuks  from  the  fancied  axe,  and  thinks  he  dies : 
Revives,  with  hojte  inquires,  stops  short  with  fear. 
Entreats  evn flattery,  nor  the  worst  will  hear ; 
The  worst,  alas,  his  doom  ! — What  friend  replies  ? 
Each  speaks  with  shaking  head,  ami  down-cast  eyes. 
One  silence  breaks,  then  pauses,  drops  a  tear : 
Nor  hope  af!brd5,  nor  quite  confirms  his  fear; 
But  what  kind  friendship  part  reserves  unknown 
Comes  thundering  in  his  keeper's  surly  tone. 
Enough  struck  through  and  through,  in  ghastly  stare. 
He  stands  tramfix'd,  the  statue  of  despair; 
Nor  aught  of  life,  nor  aught  of  death  he  knows, 
Tdl  thought  returns,  and  brings  return  of  woes : 
Now  pours  a  storm  of  grief  in  gushing  streams : 
That  past— collected  in  himself  he  seems. 
And  with  farc'd  smile  retires — His  hiient  thought 
Dark,  horrid,  as  the  prison*s  dismal  vault. 

If  with  himself  at  variance  ever-wild, 
With  ansrry  Heaven  how  stands  he  reconciVd? 
No  penitential  orisons  arise ; 
Nay,  he  obtests  the  justice  of  the  skies. 
Not  for  bis  guilt,  for  sentenced  life  he  moans ; 
His  chains  rough-clanking  to  discordant  gmans. 
To  bars  harsh -grating,  heavy-creaking  doors,' 
Hoarse-f^hoin;?  walls,  and  hollow-ringing  floors, 
To  tho!ights  more  disiionant,  far,  far  less  kind, 
One  anarchy,  one  chaos  of  the  mind. 
At  length,  ^tigued  with  grief,  on  earth  he  lies  : 
Bnt  soon  as  sleep  weighs  down  th*  unwilling  eyes, 
niad  liberty  appears,  no  damps  annoy, 
Treason  succeeds,  and  all  transforms  to  joy. 
Proud  palaces  their  glittering  stores  display  : 
Gain  he  pursues,  and  rapine  leads  the  way.  [prize  ; 
What  gold !   What  gems  ! — he  strains  to  seize  the 
Quick  from  his  touch  dissolvM,  a  cloud  it  flies. 
Conscious  he  cries — and  must  I  wake  to  weep  } 
Ah,  yet  retumy-retiim,  delusive  sleep  ! 
Sleep  comes;  but  liberty  no  more : — Unkind, 
The  dungeon-glooms  hang  heavy  on  his  mind. 
Shnll  winds  are  heard,  and  howling  demons  call  ; 
Wide-flying  portals  «*eem  nnhin|?M  to  fall : 
Then  close  with  sudden  claps ;  a  dreadful  din  ! 
He  startii,  wakes,  storms,  and  all  is  hell  withm. 

His  genius  flics — reflects  he  ni>w  on  prayer? 
Alaa  !  bad  spirits  turn  those  thoughts  to  air. 
What   shall   he  next  ?    What,  straight  rei'mquish 

breath, 
To  bar  a  public,  just,  though  shameful  death  ? 
Rash,  horrid  thought !  yet  now  afraid  to  live, 
Murdepius  he  strikes — ^may  Heaven  the  deed  forgive ! 

Why  had  bo  thus  false  spirit  to  rebel  ? 
And  why  not  fortitude  to  suffer  well  ? 
Were  bis  success,  how  terrible  the  blow  ! 
And  it  recoils  on  him  eternal  woe. 
Heaven  this  affliction  then  for  mercy  meant. 
That  a  good  end  might  close  a  Ufc  mispent. 

Where  no  kind  lips  the  hallow'd  dirge  resound. 
Far  from  the  compaasof  yon  sacred  ground ; 
Full  in  the  centre  of  three  meebng  ways, 
8tak*d  through  he  Ue8,^Wani*d  let  the  wicked  gaze. 


Nearyooder  fane,  where  Misery  sleeps  in  peace. 
Whose  spire  foist-lessens,  as  these  shades  increase, 
Ijeft  to  the  north,  whence  oft  brew'd  tempests  roll. 
Tempests,  dire  emblems,  Cosmo,  of  thy  soul ! 
There  mark  that  Cosmo,  much  for  guile  reuown'd  | 
His  grave  by  unbid  plants  of  poison  crown'd. 
When  out  A  power,  through  him  the  public  good. 
So  strong  his  factious  tribe,  suspended  stood. 
In  power,  vindictive  actions  were  his  aim. 
And  patrkHs  perish'd  by  th*  ungenerous  flame. 
If  the  best  cause  be  in  the  senate  chose, 
Ev'n  right  in  him  from  some  wrong  motive  rose. 
The  bad  he  loath'd,  and  would  the  weak  despise ; 
Yet  courted  for  dariL  ends,  and  shunu'd  the  wise. 
When  ill  his  purpose,  eloquent  his  strain; 
His  malice  had  a  look  and  voice  humane. 
His  smile,  the  signal  of  some  vile  intent, 
A  private  poniard,  or  empoison  d  scent ; 
Proud,  yet  to  popular  applause  a  slave ; 
No  friend  he  honoured,  and  no  foe  forgave. 
Hb  boons  unfrequcnt,  or  unjust  to  need ; 
The  hire  of  guilt,  of  infamy  the  meed  : 
But,  if  they  chanced  on  learned  worth  to  fiill. 
Bounty  in  him  was  ostentation  all. 
No  true  benevolence  his  thought  sublimes. 
His  noblest  actions  are  illustrious  crimes. 
Fine  parts,  which  virtue  might  have  rank'd  with  &me. 
Enhance  his  guilt,  and  magnify  his  shame. 
When  parts  in  probity  in  man  combine, 
In  wisdom*s  eye,  how  charming  must  he  shine  ? 
Let  him,  lesf  happy,  truth  at  least  impart. 
And  what  he  wants  in  genius  bear  in  heart. 

Cosmo,  as  death  draws  nigh,  no  more  conceals 
That  storm  of  passion,  which  his  nature  feels : 
He  feels  much  fear,  more  anger,  and  most  pride  ; 
But  pride  and  anger  make  all  fear  subside. 
Dauntless  he  meets  at  length  untimely  fate ; 
A  desperate  spirit !  rather  fierce,  than  great. 
Darkling  he  glides  along  the  dreary  coast, 
A  sullen,  wandering,  self-tormenting  ghost 

Where  veiny  marble  dignifies  the  ground. 
With  emblem  fair  in  sculpture  rising  round, 
Just  where  a  crossing,  lengthening  aisle  we  find. 
Full  east;  whence  God  returns  to  judge  mankind, 
Once-lov*d  Horatio  sleeps,  a  mind  elate  I 
Lamented  shade,  ambition  was  thy  fate. 
Ev*n  angels,  wondering,  oft  his  worth  snrvey*d  ; 
Behold  a  man,  like  one  of  us !  they  said. 
Straight  heard  the  Furies,  and  with  envy  glarM, 
And  to  precipitate  his  fall  pi'epar'd. 
First  Avarice  came.     In  vain  self-love  she  pressM; 
The  poor  he  pity*d  still,  and  still  redressed : 
Learning  was  his,  aud  knowledge  to  commend. 
Of  arts  a  patron,  and  of  want  a  friend. 
Next  came  Revenge :  but  h«r  essay  how  vain ! 
Not  hate,  nor  envy,  in  his  heart  remain. 
Nu  previous  malice  could  his  mind  engage. 
Malice  the  mother  of  vindictive  rage. 
No— from  his  life  his  foes  might  learn  to  five; 
He  held  it  still  a  triumph  to  forgive. 
At  length  Ambition  urg'd  his  country's  weal. 
Assuming  the  fair  look  of  public  Zeal ; 
Still  in  his  breast  so  generous  glow'd  the  flame. 
The  vice,  when  there,  a  virtue  half  became. 
His  pitying  eye  saw  millions  in  distress. 
He  deem'd  it  godlike  to  have  power  to  bless : 
Thus,  when  unguarded,  treason  stain'd  him  o  er; 
Aixi  virtue  and  content  were  then  no  more. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


9i(r 


SAVAGE'S  POEMS. 


Bot  when  to  <Jeatht»y  rigoront  jiw»tioe  doomed, 
His  genuine  spirit  saini^like  state  reKum'd, 
Oft  from  soft  penitence  distili'd  a  tear ; 
Oft  hope  in  heavenly  mercy  lightened  ftar ; 
Oft  wonid  a  drop  from  straggliniir  nature  fail. 
And  then  a  smile  of  patience  brighten  all. 

He  seeks  in  heaven  a  friend,  nor  8«eks  in  Tain. 
His  guardian  angel  swift  descends  again; 
And  resolution  thus  bespeala  a  mind 
Not  scorning  life,  yet  all  to  death  resignM ; 
— *«  Ye  chains,  fit  only  to  restrara  the  will 
Of  common,  desperate  veterans  in  ill, 
Though  rankling  on  my  limbs  ye  lie,  declare, 
D?d  e'er  my  rismg  soul  your  pressure  wear  ? 
No  ! — free  as  liberty,' arid  quick  »  light, 
To  worlds  remote  she  takes  unbounded  flight 
Ye  dungeon  glooms,  that  dim  corporeal  eycsi 
Cbuld  ye  once  blot  her  prospect  of  the  skies  ? 
No ! — from  her  clearer  sight  ye  fled  awary, 
Like  erronr,  pierc*d  by  truth's  resistless  ray. 
Ye  walls,  that  witness  my  repentant  moan  I 
Ye  eclioes,  that  to  midnight  sorrows  groan! 
Bo  I,  in  wrath,  to  you  of  fete  complain  ? 
Or  once  betrav  fear's  most  roglorions  pam  ? 
No  ! — Hail,  twice  hail  then,  ignominious  death  ! 
Behold  how  willing  glides  my  parting  breath  I 
Far  greater,  better  far— ay,  faT  rodced! 
Like  mc,  have  siifferM,  and  like  me  will  bleed. 
Apostles,  patriarchs,  prophets,  tnartyri  all, 
Like  me  once  fell,  near  murmnrM  at  their  fkU. 
Shall  I,  whose  days,  at  best,  no  ill  dcsitrnM, 
Whose  virtue  shone  not,  thoiigh  1  lovMnumkindy 
Shall  r,  now  guilty  wretch^  shall  t  rrpine  ? 
Oh,  no  !  to  justice  let  me  life  nvigu ! 
Quick,  as  a  friend,  won  Id  I  embrace  my  foe  ! 
He  taught  mc  patience  who  first  taught  me  woe ; 
But  friends  are  foes,  they  Tender  woe  severe. 
For  me  they  wail,  from  me  extort  ihe  tear. 
Not  those,  yet  alisent,  missive  griefs  contrDi ; 
These  periods  weep,  those  rave,  and  these  ccmdole ; 
At  entrance  shrieks  a  friend,  with  pale  surprise  j 
Another  panting,  prostrate,  speechless  lies ; 
One  gripes  my  hand,  one  sobs  upon  my  breart ! 
Ah,  who  can  bear  ? — it  Fhocb»,  it  murders  rest ! 
And  is  it  yours,  alas !  my  friends  to  feel  ? 
And  is  it  mine  to  comfort,  mine  to  heal  ? 
Is  mine  the  pati^-nceyyouTs  the  tM>om  strife  }. 
Ah !  would  rash  love  lore  back  my  thoughts  to  life; 
Adieu,  dear,  dangerous  mourners  I  swift  depart ! 
Ah,  fly  me !  fly  !^1  tear  ye  from  my  hearL 
"  Ye  saints,  whom  fears  of  death  could nc'ercontrol. 
In  my  last  hour  compose,  wipnort  my  soul ! 
See  my  blood  wash  repented  sin  away  ! 
Receive,  receive  me  to  eternal  day !" 

With  words  like  these  thedestin'd  hero  dies. 
While  angels  waft  his  soul  to  happier  skies. 

Distinction  now  gives  way ;  yet  on  we  talk. 
Full  darkness  deepening  o'er  the  fonnlog  waJk. 
Night  treads  not  with  light  step  the  dewy  gale. 
Nor  bright -distends  her  star-wmbroider'd  veil ; 
Her  leaden  feet,  inclement  damps  distil. 
Clouds  shut  her  face,  black  winds  her  vesture  fill ; 
An  earth-bom  meteor  lights  the  sable  skies 
Eastward  it  shoots,  andy'sunk,  fbrgotten  dies. 
So  pride,  that  rose  from  dust  to  guilty  power. 
Glares  out  in  vain ;  so  dust  shall  pride  deivonr. 

Fishers,  who  yonder  brink  by  torches  sain, 
With  toelbiultridttitestrikA  tte  ioaly  ttihu 


ist      J 


Like  snakes  in'  eagles*  daws,  in  vam  they  strive. 
When  heav'd  aloft,  and  quivering  yet  alive. 

While  herr,  methought,  our  tune  in  conver 
pasfM, 
The  Moon  clrnds  muffled,  and  the  night  wore  fast 
At  prowling  wolves  was  heard  the  masdflf s  bay  ' 
And  the  wamM  master's  arms  forbad  the  prey. 
Thus  treason  steels,  the  patriot  thus  descries, 
fiocth  sprmgsthe  monarch,  and  the  mischief  flies. 

Pale  glow.worms  glimmer*d  thixmgh  the  depth  of 
night. 
Scattering,  like  hope  through  fear,  a  doubtful  light. 
I/me  Philomela  tun*d  the  mient  grove. 
With  penaive  pleasure  listened  wakeful  Love. 
Half-dreaming  Fancy  fbrm'd  an  angePs  tongue. 
And  Pain  forgot  to  groan,  so  sweet  she  sung. 
Yhe  nigfat-CTonej' with  the  melody  alarm'd, 
Now  paus'd,  now  listened ,  and  awhile  was  charm'd  ; 
Butl^e  the  man,  whose  frequent  stubborn  will 
Resists  what  kind,  seraphic  sounds  ins-til. 
Her  heart  the  love-inspiring  voice  repel  I'd, 
Her  breast  with  agitating  mischief  swelVd  ; 
Which  closM  her  ear,  and  tempted  to  destroy 
The  tunefiil  life,  that  charms  with  virtoous  joy. 

Now  fast  we  measure  back  the  trackless  way  ; 
No  friendly  stars  directive  beams  display. 
But  lo !— a  thousand  lights  shoot  instant  rays ! 
Yon  kindling  rock  reflects  the  startling  blaze, 
I  stand  astonished — thus  the  Hermit  cries : 
"  Fear  not,  but  listen  with  cnlarpM  surprise! 
Still  must  these  hours  our  mutual  converse  claim. 
And  cease  to  echo  still  Olympiads  name ; 
Grots,  rivnlets,  groves,  Olympiads  name  forget, 
Olympia  now  no  sighing  winds  repeat. 
Can  I  be  mortal,  and  those  hours  no  more, 
Those  atnorous  hours,  that  plaint  ve  echoes  bore  ? 
A^  I  the  same  ?  Ah  no ! — Behold  a  mind, 
Unruffled,  finA,  exalted,  ami  relin'd  ! 
Late  months,  that  made  the  vr.mM  s«*asoa  gay. 
Saw  my  health  lan«?uish  oft*  in  pale  decay. 
No  racking  pain  yet  (?ave  dfsease  a  t\r»Xei ; 
No  sad,  presapeful  thought  preluded  fate : 
Yet  number *d  witc  my  df»ys— my  destiu'd  en*! 
Near, and  more  near — Nay.mery  f^r  su*p«'jid  ♦ 
I  passed  a.  weary,  lingering,  slee|»leR"»  night : 
Then  rose,  to  walk  in  morning's  parftCst  light : 
But  few  my  steps— a  feint,  and  cheerless  few  f 
RefreiJraient^from  mj  flap<riog  spirits  flew. 
When,  low,  tetir*d  broeath  a  cypress  shade, 
My  limbs  upon  a  flowery  bank  I  laid, 
Soon  by  soft-creeping,  mnrmuring  win«ls  compa^d^ 
A  slumber  pressM  my  languid  eyes — they  closed  : 
But  clOs'd  not  long^Methought  Olj'mpia  spoke  ; 
Thrice  loud  she  cAlPd,  and  thrice  the  slumber  broke. 
I  wak'd.     Forth-gliding  from  a  neighbotiring  wood, 
Full  in  my  view  the  shadowy  charmer  stood. 
Rapturous  I  started  up  to  clasp  the  shade; 
But  staggered,  fell,  and  found  my  vitals  fade: 
A  mantlmg  chillness  oVr  my  bosom  spread. 
As  if  that  instant  number^  with  the  deul. 
Her  voice  now  sent  a  far  imperfect  sound, 
Whe«  in  a  swimming  trance  m  v  pangs  were  drown'd^ 
Still  farther  off  she  calPd— W'ith  soft  surprise, 
I  turo*d^but  void  of  strength,  and  aid  to  rise  ; 
Short,  ihorter,  shorter  yet,  my  breath  I  drew: 
Then  nptpy  struggling  soul  unburtbenM  flew. 
Thus  fttkn  a  state,  where  sm  and  grief  abide, 
HcftTen  iQjBnnoQM  mt  to  mercy— thu*  Idiwt'^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  WAKDEltEIU-CAiiTO  ▼. 


«17 


Het  said,    til*  BStonuihfiieiit  with  which  I  ttart, 
\h  iiolied  ice  ruos  shivering  through  my  hcarL 
'yfirt  thou  not  aiortal  then  }**  I  cried.     But  lo I 
.9  raiincDt  lij^htens,  and  his  features  glow  ! 
t  a  shady  ringU'ts  falls  a  length  of  hair  ; 
!iblfX>iBM  his  aspect  shines,  enbrg*d  his  air. 
Id  from  his  eyes  ealiveiiiag  glories  beaiu  ; 
>iild  on  his  brow  sts  majesty  sxiprcme. 
Bri;;ht  pliimcss  of  every  dye,  that  round  himfloWy 
VJest,  robe,  and  -«riu^,  in  varied  lustre  eh^tw. 
lie  looks,  and  forward  stcpe  with  mien  divine  j 
A  grace  celestial  gives  him  all  to  shine. 
He  speaks  —Nature  is  rav'tsb*d  at  the  sound 
llie  forests  move,  and  streams  stand  listening  round ! 

Thus  he.     **  As  incomiption  I  assumed. 
As  instant  in  immortal  youth  I  blo<Mn'd  I 
Kenew*d,  and  cbang'd,  I  felt  my  vital  springs. 
With  different  lights  ilii»cem'd  the  form  of  things; 
To  earth  my  passions  fell  like  mists  away. 
And  reason  o}>cn'd  in  eternal  day. 
Swifter  than  thought  fi-om  world  to -world  1  flew. 
Celestial  knowlcdi;e  shone  in  pA^ery  view 
My  food  was  truth— what  transport  could  I  miaa  ? 
My  prospect,  all  inlinitwle  of  hliss. 
Olympia  met  me  tirst,  and,  smiling  gay, 
Onward  to  mercy  led  the  shining  way. 
As  far  transcendant  to  her  wonted  air. 
As  her  dear  wonted  self  t^  many  a  fair  I 
In  voice,  and  foim,  beauty  more  beauteous  shows. 
And  harmony  still  more  harmonioos  grows,  fcharms^ 
She  points  out  souls,  who  taught  me  friendship's 
They  gaze,  they  glow,  they  spring  into  my  arms  ! 
Well  pleas'd,  high  ancestors  my  view  command; 
Patrons  and  patriot^:  all ;  a  glorious  band ! 
Horatio  too,  by  well-born  fete  refin'd. 
Shone  out  white-rjb'd  with  saints,  a  qxKless  mind ; 
Wliat  once,  below,  ambition  made  him  miss, 
Hnmilxty  here  gainM,  a  life  of  bliss! 
Though  late,  let  sinners  then  from  sin  depart ! 
Heaven  never  yet  dcspis'd  the  contrite  heart. 
t.ast  shone,  with  sweet,  exalted  lustre  grac'd, 
The  Seraph -Bard,  in  higbe»*t  order  placM  1 
Seers,  lovers,  legislature,  prelates,  kings, 
All  raptur*d  listen,' as  he  raptur'd  ^ings. 
Sweetness  and  strength  his  look  and  lays  employ. 
Greet  smiles  with  smiles,  and  every  joy  with  joy  : 
Charmful  he  rose;  his  ever  charmfid tongue 
Joy  to  our  second  hymeneals  sung ; 
t>tUI  as  we  pa<^«M,  the  bright,  celestial  throng 
HailM  us  in  social  love  and  heavenly  long. 

"  Of  that  no  more  !  my  deathless  friendship  see  I 
I  come  an  Angel  to  the  Muse  and  thee. 
These  lights,  that  vibrate,  and  promiscuous  shine. 
Are  Emanations  all  of  forms  divine. 
And  here  tbe  Muse,  though  melted  from  thy  gaze, 
fitands  among  spirits,  mingling  rays  with  rays. 
If  thou  wunld'st  peace  attain,  my  words  attend, 
Tbe  last,  fond  words  of  thy  departed  friend  I 
True  joy's  a  seraph,  that  to  Heaven  aspires, 
Unhdrt  it  triumphs  mid*  celestial  choirs. 
But  should  no  cares  a  morul  state  molest. 
Life  were  a  state  of  ignoranoe  at  best 

•*  Know  then,  if  ills  oblige  thee  to  retirv. 
Those  ills  tofemnity  of  thought  inspire. 
Did  not  tbe  soul  abroad  for  objects  roam, 
Whence  could  she  learn  to  call  ideas  home  ? 
Jostty  to  know  thyself,  peruse  mankind; 
Ta  kii0w  thy  God,  paint  nature  on  thy  miod : 


Without  tuch  scMDce  of  the  worldly  scene. 

What  is  retirement  ?*-Einpty  pride  or  spleen : 

But  with  it  wisdom.    There  shall  cares  refine. 

Rendered  by  contemplation  half-divine. 

Trust  ap^  the  finantic,  or  mysterious  guide. 

Nor  st«op  a  captive  to  the  schoolman's  pride. 

On  Nature's  wonders  fix  alone  thy  zeal' 

Thev  dim  not  reason,  when  they  truth  rereal ; 

6o  shall  religion  in  thy  heart  endure. 

From  all  traditionarv  (alsehood  pure; 

8o  life  make  death  nmiliar  to  thy  eye^ 

So  shalt  thou  live,  as  thou  may'st  Inim  to  die ; 

And,  though  thou  view'st  thy  worst  oppressor  thrive. 

From  transient  woe,  immortal  bliss  derive. 

PareweU»Nay,  stop  the  parting  tear  I — I  go  1 

But  leave  the  Muse  thy  comforter  below.'* 

He  sakt     Instant  his  pinions  upward  soar. 

He  lessening  as  they  rise,  till  seen  no  more. 

While  Contemplation  weighed  the  mjrstic  view. 
The  Ugfats  all  vanished,  and  the  vision  dew. 


me 

BASTARD; 

iNsoaiato  wmi  all  not  ftiriaxKci  to 

MRS.  BR£TT« 

OVCl  COUSTSSS  OP  MACCLBSPIELD* 

Decet  itfsc  dare  dona  KovercaoL        Ov.  Met 


PREFACE. 


The  reader  will  easily  perceive  these  verses  were 
l>egtui,  when  my  liearf'was  gayer  than  it  has  been 
of  late  j  and  finished  m  hours  of  deepest  melan- 
choly. 

I  hope  the  world  will  do  me  the  justice  to  be- 
lieve, that  no  part  of  this  flows  from  any  real  anger 
against  the  lady,  to  whim  it  is  inscribed.  What- 
ever undeserved  severities  (  may  have  received  at 
her  hands,  would  she  deal  so  candidly  as  acknow. 
ledge  truth,  she  very  well  kuows,  by  an  experience 
of  many  years,  that  I  have  ever  behaved  myself 
towards  her,  like  one  who  thought  it  his  duty  to  sup- 
port with  patience  all  afl^ictions  from  that  quarter. 
Indeed  if  I  had  not  been  capable  of  forgiving  a 
mother,  1  must  have  blushed  to  receive  pardon  my- 
self at  the  hands  of  my  sovereign. 

Neither,  to  lav  the  tnith,  were  the  manner  of  my 
birth  all,  should  I  have  any  reason  for  complaint 
— When  I  am  a  little  dispo'*>ed  to  a  gay  turn  of 
thinking,  I  consider,  as  I  was  a  derelict  from  my 
cradle,  I  have  the  honour  of  a  lawful  claim  to 
the  best  protection  in  Europe.  For  being  a  spot  of 
earth,  to  which  nobody  pretends  a  title,  I  devolve 
naturally  upon  the  king,  as  one  of  tbe  rights  of  his 
rojralty.  While  I  presume  to  name  his  majesty, 
I  look  back,  with  confusion,  upon  the  mercy  I  hava 
lately  experienced ;  because  it  is  impossible  to  re- 
member it,  but  with  something  I  would  fern  forget, 
for  the  sake  of  my  future  peace,  and  allevivtioD  of 
<  my  past  misfortune. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


318 


SAVAGE'S  POEMS. 


I  owe  rty  life  to  the  rojral  pity,  if  a  wretch  can , 
with  propriety,  be  said  to  live,  whose  days  arc 
fewer  than  his  sorrows ;  and  to  whom  death  bad 
been  but  a  redemption  from  misery. 

But  1  will  suffer  my  pardon  as  ray  punishment, 
till  that  life,  which  has  so  graciously  been  given 
me,  shall  become  considerable  enough  not  to  be 
useless  in  his  senice  to  whom  it  was  forfeited. 
Under  influence  of  these  sentiments,  with  which 
his  majesty's  great  goodness  has  inspired  me,  I 
consider  my  loss  of  fortune  and  dignity  as  my  hap- 
piness ;  to  which,  as  1  am  bom  without  ambition, 
I  am  thrown  from  them  without  repining — Possess  • 
ing  those  advantages,  my  care  had  been,  perhaps, 
how  to  enjoy  life;  by  the  want  of  them  1  am 
taught  this  nobler  lesson,  to  study  how  to  deserve  it. 

RICHARD  SAVAGE. 


BASTARD. 

In  gaysr  hours,  when  higl)  my  fancy  ran. 

The  Muse,  exulting,  thus  her  lay  began.       [ways. 

«*  Blest  be  the  Bastard's  birth !  through  wondrous 

He  shines  eccentric  like  a  comet's  blaze ! 

No  sickly  fruit  of  faint  compliance  he  ! 

He !  stampt  in  nature's  mmtof  ectacy ! 

He  lives  to  build,  not  boAst,  a  generoiu  race  : 

No  tenth  transmitter  of  a  foolish  face : 

His  daring  hope,  no  sire's  example  bounds; 

His  first-bora  lights,  no  prejudice  confounds. 

He,  kindling  from  within,  requires  no  flame; 

He  glories  in  a  Bastard's  glowing  na^ae. 

<*  Born  to  himself,  by  no  possession  led, 
In  freedom  foster'd,  and  by  fortune  fed ; 
Nor  guides,  nor  rules,  his  sovereign  choica  control. 
His  body  independent  as  his  soul ; 
Loos'd  to  the  world's  wide  range — enjoy'd  no  aim, 
Prescrib'd  no  duty,  and  assigned  no  name :    * 
Nature's  unbounded  son,  he  stands  alone, 
His  heart  unbiass'd,  and  his  mind  his  own. 

"  O  mother,  yet  no  mother !  'tis  to  you. 
My  thanks  for  such  distinguish'd  claims  are  due, 
You,  unenslav'd  to  Nature's  narrow  laws. 
Warm  championess  for  freedom's  sacred  cause. 
From  all  the  dry  devoirs  of  blood  fmd  line. 
From  ties  maternal,  moilil  and  divine, 
Di^harg'd  my  grasping  soul ;  push'd  me  from  shore. 
And  lanch'd  me  itito  life  without  an  oar. 

**  What  had  1  lost^  if,  conjugally  kind. 
By  nature  hating,  yet  by  vows  coniBn'd, 
Uutaught  the  matrimonial  bounds  to  slight. 
And  coldly  conscious  of  a  husband's  right. 
You  had  mint-drawn  roe  with  a  form  alone, 
A  lawful  lump  of  life  by  force  your  own  ! 
Then,  while  y(yir  backward  will  retrench'd  desire. 
And  unooncumng  spirits  lent  no  fire, 
I  bad  been  bom  your  dull,  domestic  heir. 
Load  of  your  life,  and  motive  of  your  care ; 
Perhaps  been  poorly  rich,  and  meanly  great, 
The  slave  of  pomp,  a  cypher  in  the  state  ; 
Lordly  neglectful  of  a  worth  unknown. 
And  slumbering  in  a  seat,  by  chance  my  own. 

<'  Far  nobler  blessings  wait  the  Bastard's  lot ; 
Qonceiv'd  in  rapture,  and  with  fire  begot ! 


Strong  as  necessity,  he  starts  away. 

Climbs  against  wrongs,  and  brightens  into  day." 

Thus  unprophetic,  lately  mistn^ir'd, 
I  sung :  gay  fluttering  hope,  my  fancy  fir*d ; 
Inly  secure,  through  conscious  scorn  of  ill. 
Nor  taught  by  wisdom,  how  to  balance  wiU, 
Rashly  deceived,  I  saw  no  pits  to  sfann. 
But  thought  to  purpose  and  to  act  were  one ; 
Heedless  what  pointed  cares  pervert  his  way. 
Whom  caution  arms  not,  and  whom  woes  b^ray  j 
But  now,  expos'd,  and  shrinking  from  distress,  ' 
I  fly  to  shelter,  while  the  tempests  press ; 
My  Mus<*  to  grief  resigns  the  varying  tone. 
The  raptures  languish,  and  the  numbers  gruan. 

O  Memory  !  thou  soul  of  joy  and  pain  ! 
Thou  actor  of  our  passions  o'er  agam  ! 
Why  dost  thou  aggravate  the  wretch's  woe  ? 
Why  add  continuous  smart  to  every  blow  ? 
Few  are  my  joys ;  alas  I  how  soon  forgot ! 
On  that  kind  quarter  thou  invad'st  mc  not : 
While  sharp  and  numberless  my  sorrows  fall  ; 
Vet  thou  repeat'st,  and  multiply^st  them  all  > 

Is  chance  a  guilt  ?  that  my  disasteruus  heart. 
For  mischief  never  meant,  must  e\-er  smart } 
Can  self;^efence  be  shi!— Ah,  plead  no  more  ! 
What  though  no  purposed  malice  stain'd  thee  o'er  ? 
Had  Heaven  befriended  thy  unhappy  side. 
Thou  hadst  not  been  provok'd — Or  thou  badst  died. 

Fbr  be  the  guilt  of  homeshed  blood  from  all 
On  whom,  unsought,  embroiling  dangers  fall ! 
Sdll  the  pale  dead  revives,  and  lives  to  me. 
To  me !  through  Pity's  eye  condemn'd  to  see. 
Remembrance  veils  his  rage,  but  swells  his  fate; 
Griev'd  I  forgive,  and  am  grown  cool  too  latft. 
Young,  and  unthoughtful  then ;  who  knows,  one  day. 
What  ripenmg  virtues  might  have  made  their  way  ? 
He  might  have  liv*d  till  folly  died  m  shame. 
Till  kindling  wisdom  felt  a  thirst  for  fame. 
He  might  perhaps  his  country's  friend  have  ppov'd ; 
Both  happy,  generous,  candid,  and  beloy'd. 
He  might  have  sav'dsome  worth,  now  doom'd  to  fall ; 
And  I,  perchance,  m  him,  have  murder'd  all. 

O  fate  of  late  repentance  !  always  vain : 
Thy  remedies  but  lull  undymg  pain. 
Where  shall  my  hope  find  rest  ? — No  mothcr*8  care 
Shielded  my  infant  innocence  with  prayer : 
No  father's  guardian  hand  my  youth  maintain'd, 
Oall'd  forth  my  virtues,  or  from  vice  restroin'd. 
Is  it  not  thine  to  snatch  some  powerful  arm. 
First  to  advance,  then  skreeu  from  future  harm  ? 
Am  I  retura'd  from  death  to  live  in  pain  ? 
Or  would  imperial  Pity  save  in  vain  ? 
Distrdsts  it  not — What  blame  can  mercy  find. 
Which  gives  at  once  a  life,  and  rears  a  mind  > 

Mother,  miscall'd,  farewell — of  soul  severe, 
^is  sad  reflection  yet  may  force  one  tear : 
All  I  was  wretched  by  to  you  I  ow*d. 
Alone  from  strangers  every  comfort  flow'd  ? 

Lost  to  the  life  you  gave,  your  son  no  mora« 
And  now  adopted,  who  was  doom'd  before. 
New-bora,  I  may  a  nobler  mother  claim. 
But  dare  not  whisper  her  inmnortal  name; 
Supremely  lovely,  and  serenely  great ! 
Majestic  mother  of  a  kneeling  state ! 
Queen  of  a  people's  heart,  who  ne'er  befora 
Agreed — yet  now  with  one  consent  adore ! 
One  contest  yet  remains  in  this  desire, 
Who  most  ^all  give  applause,  where  all  adiAirtw  ' 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


8l> 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


VERSES 

OCCASIONED   BY 
THI  RIGHT  RONOVRABLB  TNB  LADY 

riiiCOUSTESS  TYRCONNEVS 

lECOVERY   AT    BAT«. 

Wh  Bi  E  Thames  with  pride  behoMft  Augusta*8  charms. 

And  either  India  pours  into  her  arms ; 

W'ljere  Liberty  bids  honest  arts  abound. 

And  pleasun^  dance  in  one  eternal  i^und ; 

High-tfaron*d  a^>pears  the  laughter- loving  danae. 

Goddess  of  mirth  !  Euphrosyne  her  name. 

Her,  smile  more  cheerful  than  a  vernal  mom ; 

M\  life  !  ail  bloom !  of  Youth  and  Fancy  b6nu 

Touch'd  into  joy,  what  heaits  to  her  submit ! 

She  looks  her  sire,  and  speaks  her  mother*8  wit. 
0*er  the  gay  world  the  sweet  inspirer  reigns; 

Spleen  flies,  and  Elegance  her  pomp  sustains. 

Thee,  goddess  !  thee  !  the  fair  and  young  obey; 

"U'ealth,  Wit,  Ix)vc,  Music,  all  confess  thy  sway. 

In  the  bleak  wild  ev*n  Want  by  thee  b  blessed. 

And  pampered  Pride  without  thee  pines  for  rest. 

The  rich  grow  richer,  while  in  ihee  they  End 

The  matchless  treasure  of  a  smiling  mind. 

Science  by  thee  flows  soft  in  social  ease, 

And  Virtue,  losing  rigour,  learns  to  please. 
The  goddess  summons  each  illustrious  name. 

Bids  the  gay  talk,  and  forms  th'  amnsive  game. 

Kbc,  whose  feir  throne  b  fixM  in  human  souls. 

From  joy  to  joy  her  eye  delighted  rolls. 

"  But  where*'  (she  cried)  "  b  she,  my  favorite  •  she 

Of  all  my  race,  th-;  dearest  far  to  me ! 

WlKiee  life's  the  life  of  each  refln'd  delight  ?" 

She  faii^But  no  Tyrconnel  glads  her  sight 

Swift  sunk  her  laughing  eyes  in  languid  fear ; 

Swift  rosejthe  swelling  sigh,  and  trembling  tear. 

In  kind  low  murmurs  all  the  loss  deplore  ! 
Tyrconnel  droups,  and  pleasure  is  no  more. 
The  goddess,  silent,  paused  in  museful  air; 

But  Mirth,  like  Virtue,  cannot  long  despair. 
Cele»tial-hintcd  thoughts  gay  hope  ioi^r'd. 
Smiling  she  rose,  aud  all  with  hope  were  Gr'd. 
Where  Batirs  ascending  turrets  meet  her  eyes; 
fitraight  wafted  on  the  tepid  breeze  she  flies. 
She  flies,  her  eldest  sister  Health  to  find ; 
She  flnds  her  on  the  mountain- brow  reclined. 
Arouad  her  birds  in  earliest  concert  sing ; 
Her  cheek  the  semblance  of  the  kindling  spring  | 
Fresh-tJDctur'd  like  a  summer-evening  iky. 
And  a  mild  sun  sits  smiling  in  her  eye. 
Looae  to  the  wind  her  verdant  vestmeots  flow ; 
Her  limbs  yet-recent  from  the  springs  below ; 
1*bere  oft  she  bathes^  then  peaceful  sits  secure. 
Where  every  gale  b  fragrant,  fresh,  and  pure ; 
Where  flowers  and  herbs  their  cordial  odours  bleiyi, 
A/>d  all  their  balmy  virtues  fiitft  ascend. 


u  ^  "*"'  ^'^^  ^^  •"  (^  ^'^^^  ««We8i  Cries) 

No  common  suppliant  stands  before  your  eyes. 
You,  with  whose  living  breath  the  mom  b  fraught, 
Fldsh  thefiiir  cheek,  and  point  thecheerful  thought ! 
^rength,  vigour,  wit,  deprived  of  thee,  decline  I 
Eac^  finer  sense,  that  forms  delight,  b  thine  I 
Bright  suns  by  thee  difluse  a  brighter  blaze. 
And  the  fresh  green  a  fresher  green  displays  » 
Without  thee  pleasures  die,  or  dully  cloy. 
And  life  with  thee,  however  depressed,  b  joy. 
Such  thy  vast  power !»»— The  deity  replies 
"Mirth  never  asks  a  booo.  which  Health  deniet. 
Our  mingled  gifts  transcend  imperial  wealth : 
Health  tt^ngthens  Mirth,  and  Mirth  inspirits  Health. 
These  gales,  yon  springs,  herbs,  flowers,  and  sun,  are 

mine;  ' 

Thine  is  their  smile !  be  all  their  influence  thine.»» 

Euphreayne  r^oiw-"  Thy  friendship  prove  1 
See  the  dear,  sickenmg  object  of  my  love » 
Sh^l  that  warm  heart,  so  cheerful  ev'n  in  pahi 
So  fbrm'd  to  please,  unpleasM  itself  remain  > 
Sister!   in  her  my  amile  anew  dbplay. 
And  all  the  social  world  shall  bless  thy  sway  *• 
Swift,  as  she  speaks,  Health  spreads  the  puiple 

wm^,  , 

Soars  in  the  coloured. ckwds,  and  sheds  the  spring: 
Nowbland  and  sweet  she  floats  along  in  kir ; 
Air  fpeb,  and  softening  owns  the  ethereal  h\r  » 
In  stdl  descent  she  melts  on  openrag  flowers. 
And  deep  impregnates  plants  with  genial  showers. 
The  ijenial  showers,  newwrismg  to  the  ray, 
Exale  in  roseate  clouds,  and  glad  the  day. 
Now  in  a  Zephyr's  borrow^  voice  she  sincu.  rwiraw. 
Sweeps  the  fresh  dews,  and  shakes  them  from  ^ 
Shakes  them  embahn»d ;  or,  in  a  gentle  kiss. 
Breathes  the  sure  earnest  of  awakening  bliss. 
Sapphire  feels  it,  with  a  soft  surprise, 
Glkle  through  her  veins,  and  quicken  in  her  eyes» 

Instant  in  her  own  form  the  goddess  glows. 
Where,  bubbhng  warm,  the  mineral  water  flows  : 
pen,  plungmg,  to  the  flood  new  virtue  gives ; 
Steeps  every  charm;  and  as  she  bathes,  it  lives  • 
As  from  her  locks  she  sheds  the  viul  shower, 
1  7?v^      (sh* cries)  "these  springs possUs  my 
Let  these  nnmediate  to  thy  dariing  roll       [power! 
Health,  vigour,  life,  and  gay-returning  soul. 
Thou  smil'st,  Euphlrosyne ;  and  conscious  see. 
Prompt  to  t^smile,  how  Nature  joyij  with  thee. 
All  IS  green  life  !  all  beauty  losv-bright ; 
Full  Harmony,  young  Love,  and  dear  Delight ! 
See  vernal  Hours  lead  drclmg  Joys  along » 
All  sun,  aU  bloom,  all  fragrance,  and  all  song » 
J'  Receive  thy  care !  Now  Mirth  and  Health  combine. 
Each  heart  shall  gladden,  and  each  virtue  shine. 
Quick  to  Augusta  bear  thy  prize  away ; 
There  let  her  imile  and  bid  a  world  be  gay. 


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8tO 


SAVAGE'S  POEMS. 


AK 

EPISTLE 

ro  TSB  KIOHT  HOMOURABLC 

SIR  ROBERT  WALPOLE. 

Still  let  low  wit«,  who  leiwe  nor  faonotir  prize. 
Sneer  at  all  gratitude,  all  truth  disgiiise  $ 
At  living  worth,  because  alive,  exclaim, 
losult  the  evird,  and'  the  dead  defame ! 
Such  paint,  what  pity  veils  in  private  woes. 
And  what  we  see  with  grief,  with  mirth  expose: 
Studious  to  urge— (whom  trill  mean  authors  spare  ?) 
The  child's,  the  parent's,  and  the  consort's  tear: 
Unconscious  of  what  pangs  the  heart  may  rend. 
To  lose  what  they  have  ne'er  deserved— a  friend. 
Such,  ignorant  of  focts.  invent,  relate, 
Ezpos'd  persist,  and  answer'd  still  debate : 

Such,  but  by  foils,  the  clearest  lustre  see. 
And  deem  asperaing  others,  praising  th<«. 
Far  from  these  tracks  my  honest  lays  aspire, 
And  gredt  a  generous  heart  with  generous  fire. 
Truth  be  my  guide  \  Truth,  which  thy  virtue  claims  ! 
This,  nor  the  poet,  nor  the  patron  shames ! 
When  party-minds  shall  lose  contracted  views. 
And  History  question  the  recording  Muse; 
nis  this  alone  to  after-times  must  shine, 
laA  stamp  the  poet  and  his  theme  divine. 

IxMig  has  my  Muse,  from  many  a  moundul  cause. 
Sung  with  small  power,  nor  sought  sublime  applause  j 
From  that  great  point  she  now  shall  urge  her  sOope ; 
On  that  fair  promise  rest  her  fiiture  hope; 
Where  policy,  from  state-Ulusioii  clear, 
Can  through  an  open  aspect  shine  sincere  ;. 
Where  science,  law,  and  liberty  depend. 
And  own  the  patron,  patriot,  and  the  friend ; 
(That  breast  to  feel,  that  eye  on  worth  to  gaze. 
That  smile  to  cherish,  and  that  hMid  to  raise !) 
Whose  best  of  hewf6  ber  best  of  thoughts  inflame, 
Whose  joy  is  boiyity,  and  whose  gift  is  fiunc. 

Vfhcnf4a^^\veSt  flies  Innocence  distressed  ? 
To  you,  who  dtate  oppression  from  th*  oppress'd : 
Who,  when  complaint  to  you  alone  belongs. 
Forgive  yoar  own,  though  not  a  people's  wrongs : 
Who  still  make  public  property  your  care. 
And  thence  bid  private  grief  no  more  des|jair. 

A&k  they  what  state  yoorshelteringcareshall  own  ? 
Tis  youth,  His  age,  the  cottage,  and  the  throne : 
l<Jor  can  the  prison  'scape  your  searching  eye, 
Your  ear  still  opening  to  the  captive's  cry. 
Nor  less  was  promised  from  thy  early  skill, 
Ei«  power  enfbrc'd  benevolence  of  will ! 
To  fi  lends  refin'd,  thy  private  KAeadher'd, 
By  thee  improving,  ere  by  thee  preferU         fforJ, 
Well  hadst  thou  wdgh'd  what  truth  ludi  friends  af- 
M'itb  thee  resigning,  and  with  thae  reitor'd. 
Thou  tau^'st  them  all  extensive  love  to  bear. 
And  now  mankind  with  thee  their  friendships  share. 

As  the  rich  cloud  by  due  degrees  expands, 
And  showen  down  plenty  thfek  on  sondry  lands. 
Thy  spreading  worth  in  various  bounty  fell. 
Made  genius  flourish,  and  made  art  ocoet. 

How  many,  yet  deceiv»d,  all  power  oppose  ? 
Their  fears  mcreasiiig,  as  decrease  their  woes  j 
Jealous  of  bondage,  while  they  freedom  gam, 
And  most  oblig'd,  most  eager  to  complain. 

But  well  we  count  our  bliss,  if  well  we  view, 
Wben  power  oppicsiODy  not  piotectioD^  grew ; 


View  present  ills  that  punish  distant  climes  | 
Or  bleed  in  memory  here  from  ancient  thpes. 

Mark  first  the  robe  abus'd  Religion  wore^ 
Story'd  with  griefs,  and  stain'd  with  htiman  gore ! 
What  \^toous  tortures,  engines,  fires,  reveal, 
Study'd,  empo^er'd,  and  sanctify'd  by  zeal  ? 

Stop  here,  my  Muse  I — Peculiar  woes  descry  1 
Bid  them  in  sad  succession  strike  Uiy  eye  ! 
I/>,  to  her  eye  the  sad  succession  springs  I 
She  looks,  she  weeps,  and,  as  she  weeps,  she  singB. 
See  the  duom'd  Hebrew  of  his  stores  bbreft! . 
See  holy  murder  justify  the  theft ! 
His  ravag'd  gold  some  useless  shrine  shall  raise. 
His  gems  on  superstitictus  Idols  blaze  \ 
His  wife,  his  babe,  deny'd  their  little  home. 
Stripped,  starved,  unfriended,  and  unpity'd  mnu 

Lo,  the  priest's  hand  the  wafer-god  supplies  !— 
A  king  by  consecrated  poison  dit  s  ! 

See  Learning  range  yon  broad  selhereal  plain. 
From  world  to  world,  and  god-like  Science  gan! 
Ah  !  what  avails  tlie  curious  search  sustain'd. 
The  finish'd  toil,  the  god-like  Science  gam'd  ? 
Sentenc'd  to  flames  th*  <>xpansive  wisdom  fell. 
And  truth  from  Heaven  «as  sorcery  from  Helk 

See  Reason  bid  each  mystic  wile  retire, 
Strike  out  new  ligtit  \  and  mark  l-^^^e  wise  admire ! 
Zeal  shall  such  heresy,  like  learning,  hate ; 
The  same  their  glory,  and  the  same  their  fhte. 

Lo,  from  sought  mercy,  one  his  life  recedes  ? 
Life,  worse  tlvn  death,  tliat  cruel  mercy  gives: 
The  men,  perchance,  who  wealth  and  hoooors  bore, 
Slaves  in  the  mine,  dr  ceaseless  strains  the  oar. 
So  doom'd  ore  these,  and  such,  perhaps,  our  doom, 
Own'd  we  a  prince,  avert  it  Heaveh  I  from  Blme. 

Nor  private  worth  akme  false  Zeal  assaiils  ; 
Whole  nations  blt^  when  bigotry  prevails. 
"  What  are  sworn  friendships?  What  are  kindred  ties  ? 
What's  faith  with  heresy  ?*»  (the  zealdt  cries.) 
See,  when  war  sinks,  the  thundering  cannon's  roar? 
When  wounds,  and  death,  and  discord  are  no  more  ; 
When  music  bids  undreading  joys  advance. 
Swell  the  soft  hour,  and  turn  die  swimming  dance : 
When,  to  crown  these,  the  social  spailcKng  bowl 
Lifts  the  cheer'd  sense,  avid  pours  oilt  all  the  soul ; 
Sudden  he  sends  red  massacre  abroad ; 
Faithless  to  man,  to  prove  his  feith  to  God. 
What  pure  persuasive  eloquence  dcniesL 
All-drunk  with  blood,  the  arguing  swora  fupplies; 
The  sword,  which  to  th'  a<4assin*s  hand  ll  given ! 
Th'  assassin's  hand ! — pronounc'd  the  hand  of  flMvenl 
Set  bleeds  with  sex,  an'l  mfency  with  age ; 
No  rank,  no  place,  no  \nTtue,  stops  his  rage ; 
Shall  sword,  and  flame,  and  devastation  cease. 
To  please  with  zeal,  wild  zeal !  the  God  of  Peace  ! 

Nor  less  abuse  has  scourg'd  the  cfvil  state. 
When  a  king's  will  became  a  nation's  fate. 
Enormous  power !  Nor  noble,  nor  serene; 
Now  fierce  and  cruel ;  itow  but  wild  and  mean. 
See  titles  sold,  to  raise  tV  bninst  supply ! 
Coinpell'd  the  purchase !  or  be  fhi'd,  or  biiy ! 
No  public  sphit,  guarded  well  by  laws, 
UncensurM  censures  in  his  coontry's  cause. 
See  from  the  merchant  fbrc'd  th*  unwilling  loan  1 
Who  dares  devf ,  or  deem  his  wealth  his  own  ? 
Denying,  see !  where  dungeon-damps  arise, 
Diseias*d  he  pines,  and  unassisted  dies. 
Far  more  than  massacre  that  fate  accurst  1 
As  of  all  deaths  the  lingering  is  the  worst. 

New  courts  of  censure  griev'd  with  newoflboca, 
Tax'd  without  power,  and  fin'd  without  preteoft^ 


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TH£  VOLUNTfiEfe  UUR^AT. 


»l 


l^SkplaWdy  al  itiXit  eacb  statute*^  wrested  aim, 
^11  marks  'of  merit  were  the  marks  of  shame ; 
St)  monstrous  1 — Life  .was  the  severest  grief, 
And  the  worst  death  seemM  welcome  for  relief. 

In  vain  the  subject  sought  redress  from  law, 
Ko  senate  liv*d  tlie  partial  judge  to  awe : 
Senates  w«re  void,  and  senators  conflnM 
^r  the  great  cause  of  Nature  and  mankind; 
Who  kings  superior  to  the  people  own ; 
Yet  prove  the  law  superior  to  the  throne. 

Who  can  review  without  a  generous  tear, 
A  church,  a  st«it«,  so  impious,  so  severe ; 
A  land  uocultui^d  throuj^h  polemic  jars. 
Rich  ! — ^but  with  carnage  from  intestinn  wars  ( 
The  hand  of  hidustry  employ'd  no  more. 
And  Commerce  fiymg  to  some  safer  shoire ; 
All  property  reduced,  to  Power  a  prey. 
And  Sense  and  Learning  chAsM  by  Zeal  atray  ? 
Who  honours  not  each  dear  departed  ghost, 
TTiat  strove  fiir  Liberty  so  won,  to  lost : 
So  well  regam'd  when  god-like  William  rose. 
And  6rst  entaii'd  the  blessing  George  bestows  ? 
May  Walpole  still  the  growing  triumph  imlse. 
And  bid  these  emulate  Elts»'s  days ; 
Still  serve  a  prince,  who,  o*er  his  people  great. 
As  &r  transcends  in  virtue,  as  m  state  I 

The«Muse  parsoes  thee  to  thy  rural  seat; 
Ev'n  there  sinll  Liberty  inpire  retreat. 
When  solenra  cares  in  flowing  wit  are  drowned. 
And  sportive  chat  and  social  laughs  go  round  : 
£v*n  then,  when  pausing  mirth  begins  to  hil, 
The  converse  varies  to  the  serious  tale. 
The  tale  pathetic  speaks  some  wretch  that  owes 
To  aeme  deficient  law  reltefless  woes. 
What  instant  pity  warms  thy  generous  breast  1 
How  all  the  legislator  standf  confets*d  t 
Now  springs  the  hint !  tis  now  improved  to  tbooght  I 
Now  ripe  I  and  now  to  public  welfare  brought! 
New  hUls,  which  regulating  means  bestow. 
Justice  preserve,  yet  softening  mercy  kmnr : 
Justice  shall  low  vexatious  wilei  decline, 
Andstjll  thrive  most,  when  lawyers  most  repme. 
Justice  from  jargon  shall  reftn^d  appear. 
To  knowledge  through  our  native  language  clear. 
Hence  we  may  team,  no  more  deceived  by  law. 
Whence  wealth  and  life  their  best  assurance  draw. 

The^reed  insolvent,  with  industrious  hand. 
Strives  yet  to  satisfy  the  just  demand  : 
Thus  ruthless  men,  who  would  his  powers  restrahiy 
Oft  what  severity  would  lose  obtain. 
These,  and  a  thousand  gifts,  thy  thought  acquires. 
Which  Liberty  benevolent  inspires. 
From  Ubeity  the  frniU  of  law  increase. 
Plenty,  and  joy,- and  all  the  arts  of  peace. 
Abroad  the  merchant,  while  the  tempests  rare. 
Adventurous  seib,  nor  fears  the  wind  and  wave ; 
At  home  untir^  we' find  the  auspicious  hand 
With  flocks,  and  berd8,«nd  harvests,  bless  the  land  : 
While  there,  the  peasant  glads  the  grateful  soil, 
H««e  osafk  the  shipwright,  there  the  mason  toil, 
ilew^  sfliaie,  and  rear,  magniflcent,  the  stone. 
And  give  ear  oaks  a  glory  not  their  own ! 
What  Itfe^eroaniat^  this  obeys  her  call» 
And  added  elegance  consummates  all. 
Th^s  stately  cities,  statelier  navies  rise. 
And  qiraad  «ur  grandeur  under  distant  sldeit 
Ttcm  liberty  each  nobler  so^noe  qprung, 
A  ^nooB  iMnglbteB'd,  end  a  S^pencer  saof: 

rouXk 


A  Clark  and  Locke  new  tracks  of  triiih  exploro. 
And  Newton  reaches  heights  unreached  b^re. 

What  trade  sessi  property  that  wealth  maintain^ 
Which  industry  no  longer  dreads  to  gain; 
What  tender  conscience  kneels  with  fears  resignVl, 
£i^03rs  her  worship,  and  avows  her  mind ; 
What  genius  now  from  want  to  fortune  climbs^ 
And  to  safe  science  every  thought  sublimes  j 
What  royal  power,  from  his  superior  state, 
Sees  public  happiness  his  own  create ; 
But  keitt  those  patriot-souls,  to  which  he  owes 
Of  old  each  source,  whence  now  each  blessing  flows  f 

'  Aftd  if  such  sphrit5  from  their  heaven  descend, 
And  blend^  flame,  to  point  one  glorious  end; 
Flaihe  from  one  breast,  and  thence  to  Britanishin^ 
Whut  kive,  what  praise,  O  Walpole,  then  b  thine  P 


tut 

rOLUlfTEER  LAVREAT^ 

A    PotM 

6V   HBlk 

MAJESTY'S  BlRtH-DAY,  1731.2* 
No.  L 

Twice  twenty  tedious  moons  have  fxAVd  awsy^ 
Since  llope,  kind  flatterer !  tun'd  my  pensive  lay. 
Whispering,  that  you,  who  rais*d  me  from  despair^ 
Meant,  by  your  smiles,  to  makel'rfe  worth  my  car^* 
With  pitying  hand  an  orphan's  tears  to  screen. 
And  o*er  the  mothierless  extend  the  queen.' 
Twill  be— the  prophet  guides  the  poet's  strain ! 
Grief  never  touched  a  heart  like  your's  in  vain ; 
Heaven  gave  yon  power,  because  yovL  love  to  blest ^ 
And  pity,  when  you  feel  it,  is  redress. 

Two  fathers  join'd  to  rob  my  claim  of  one  t 
My  mother  too  thought  fit  to  have  no  son ! 
The  senate  next,  whose  aid  the  helpless  own* 
Forgot  my  infant  wrongs,  and  mine  alone !' 
Yet  parents  pityless,  nor  peers  unkind. 
Nor  titles  lost,  nor  woes  mysterious  join'd. 
Strip  me  of  hope — ^by  Heav'n  thus  lowly  laid^ 
To  find  a  Pharaoh's  daughter  in  the  ^hade. 

You  cannot  hear  unmov'd,  when  wrongs  implo<<e^ 
Your  heart  is  woman,  tho'  your  mind  be  more; 
Kind,  like  the  power  who  gave  3^00  to  our  prayer^ 
You  would  not  lengthen  life  to  sharpen  cares  ; 
They,  who  a  barren  leave  to  live  bwtow, 
Snatch  but  from  death  to  sacrifice  to  woe* 
Hated  by  her  from  whom  my  life  I  drew. 
Whence  should  J  hope,if  not  from  Heaven  and  yoa? 
Nor  dare  1  groan  beneath  affliction's  rod, 
My  queen  my  mother,  and  my  finther-— God* 

The  pitying  Muses  saw  me  wit  pursue; 
A  basurd-son,  alas  !  on  that  side  too. 
Did  not  your  eyes  exalt  the  poef  s  fire. 
And  whait  the  Muse  denies,  the  queen  {nepire? 
While  rising  thus  you^  heavenly  soul  to  view, 
I  learn,  how  angels  think,  by  copying  you. 

Great  princess !  His  decreed— once  every  yesr 
I  march  oncall'd  your  Lanreat  Volunteer; 
Thus  shall  your  poet  his  low  genius  raise, 
And  charm  the  workl  with  trutihs  too  va«t  fbr  prwK 
Nor  need  1  dwell  on  glories  all  your  own, 
Sfawe  foier  means  to  tempt  y  oar  snkilei  am  kpowAj 


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ii2i 


LAVAGE'S  POEJrfS. 


Yoar  poet  sliall  Moi  your  lord  his  part, 

.And  paine  him  hi  h'w  noblest  throne^your  heart. 

Is  there  a  greatness  that  adorns  him  best, 
A  risifif  wish,  that  ripens  in  his  breast } 
Has  he  foremeant  some  distant  age  to  bless, 
Disatm  ojspression,  or  expel  distress  > 
Plans  he  some  scheme  to  reconcile  mankind. 
People  the  seas,  and  buf  y  every  wind  ? 
Would  he  by  pity  the  deceivM  reclaim. 
And  smile  contending  fisctions  into  shame  ? 
*l¥otk1d  his  example  lend  his  laws  a  weight. 
And  breathe  his  own  soft  morals  o'er  his  state  ? 
The  Mose  shall  find  it  all,  shall  make  ii  seen, 
.And  teach  the  world  his  praise,  to  charm  his  queen. 

Such  be  Che  annual  troths  my  verse  imparts 
Kor  frown,  lair  favourite  of  a  people's  hearts  !     • 
Happy  if,  placM,  |$«rchanee,  beneath  your  eye. 
My  Muse»  unpension'd,  might  her  pinions  try ; 
Fearless  to  fiiil.  whilst  yoii  indulge  her  flame. 
And  bid  fie  proudly  bbest  your  Ijiureat's  name; 
Benobled  thus  by  wreaths  my  queen  bestows, 
vi  lose  all  memory  olf  wrongs  itnd  woes. 


rOLUNTEER  LAVREAT. 

A    POEM 

OH  Hsa 

V^fJtSm  WKTH-DAY,  1733-3. 

Ab.  //. 

'?*  GaBAT  princess,  'tis  decreed!  once  every  year> 
"•*  \  march  nncalrd,  your  Laureat  Volunteer." 
60  sung  the  Muse  i  nor  sung  the  Muse  in  Vain : 
My  queen  accepts,  the  year  renews  the  strain, 
Ere  first  your  influence  shone  with  heavenly  aid. 
Each  {bought  was  terrour ;  for  each  view  was  shade. 
Fortune  to  life  each  flowery  path  deny*d ; 
No  science  learn  d  to  bloom,  no  lay  to  glide. 
Instead  of  haliow'd  hill,  or  vocal  vale, 
01*  stream,  sweet-echoing  to  the  tuneful  iaie ; 
4)amp  dens  confinM,  or  barren  deserts  spread, 
*  ^Vith  spectres  haunted,  and  the  Muses  fled  ; 
Bums  in  pensive  emblem  seem  to  rise, 
*And  a)l  was  daurk,  or  wild,  to  Fancy^s  eyes. 

Btit  hark  I  a  gladdetriog  voice  all  nature  chears  I 
Pisperse^.ye  glooms !  a  day  of  joy  appears ! 
Hail,  happy  day ! — Twas  on  thy  glorious  mom, 
-  Tbe-fixyt,  the  fSEurest  of  her  sex  was  bom  I 
How  swifl  the  chajige !  Cold,  wintery  sorrows  fly ! 
Whejne-e^er  she  looks,  delight  surrotiiids  the  eye ! 
Mild* shines  the  Son,  the  woodlands  warMe  round  I 
The  val^  sweet  echo,  sweet  the  rocks  resound  I 
In  cordial  air,  soft  fragrance  floats  ^long; 
£a9h  scene  is  verdure,  and  each  voice  is  song ! 

Shoot  from  yon  orb  divine,  ye  quickening  hiysl 
•Bouhdiess,  like  her  benevolence,  ye.  Maze  1 
flqft  emblenls  of  her  bounty,  £^11,  ye  showers  !| 
And  sweet  asce;id,  and  feir  uhfiola,  ve  flowers  I 
Y6  Tosks,  lilies,  you  we  earliest  claim, 
^whiteness,  and  in  fr^rance,  match  her  &itie  I 
'nfis  yours  to  &de,  to  fame  like  hers  iS  oue 
tJndying' sweets,  and  bloom  for  ever  hew. 
Ye  blossoms,  that  one  varied  landscape  rise, 
A$4  sa^  your  aoCBtfiU  tribtttf  to  the  iUm  I 


Diffusive  like  yon  royal  branclbcs  smile, 
Grace  the  young  year,  and  glad  the  gratdul  bISbI 
Attend,  ye  Muses!  mark  the  feathered  quires f 
Those  the  Spring  wakes,  as  you  the  queen  inspirekr^ 
O,  let  her  praise  for  ever  swell  your  song  ? 
Sweet  let  your  sacred  streams  the  notes  prolong, 
aear,  and  more  clear,  through  aU  my  lays  refine^ 
And  there  let  heaven  and  her  reflected  shine  ! 

As»  when  chill  blights  finom  vernal  suns  retire^ 
Chearfql  the  vegetative  world,  atrpire, 
Put  forth  unfolding  bloonM,  and  waving  try 
Th*  enlivening  influence  of  a  milder  sky  ; 
So  gives  her  birth  (like  yon  approaching  Sprinf^ 
The  land  to  flourish,  and  the  Muse  to  sing. 

•Twas  thus,  Zenobia,  on  Palmyra's  throne. 
In  learning,  beauty,  and  in  virtue  shone  ! 
Beneath  her  rose,  Lungimis,  in-fhy  name. 
The  poet's,  critic's,  and  tlie  patriot's  ftime ! 
Is  there  (so  high  be  you,  great  princess,  prais'd  *). 
A  woe  unpitied,  or  a  worth  unrais'd  ? 
Art  loams  to  soar  by  your  sweet  influence  tanght| 
In  life  well  cherished  ;  nor  in  death  forgot: 
In  death  as  life,  the  leam'd  your  goodness  tell  I 
Witness  the  sacred  busts  of  Richmond's  cell  1 
Sages,  who  in  unlading  light  will  shine  ; 
Who  grosp'd  at  science,  like  your  own,  divine! 

The  Muse,  who  haib  with  song  this  glorioAs  moia^ 
Now  fooks  through  days,  through  months,  throu§h 

years  unborn ; 
All  white  they  rise,  and  in  their  course  exprest 
A  king  by  k^iogs  rever'd,  by  subjects  blest  \ 
A  queen-,  wfaere-e'er  tr\ie  greatness  ^reads  in  fame| 
Where  learning  towers  beyond  her  sex's  aim  ; 
Where  pure  religion  no  extreme  can  touch. 
Of  faith  too  little,  or  of  zeal  too  much ; 
Where  these  behold,  as  on  this  bless'd  of  morns, 
What.love  protects  them,  anil  what  worth  adomt^ 
Where-e'er  diffusive  goodness  smiles,  a  queen 
Still  prais'd  with  rapture,  as  with  wonder  seen ! 

See  nation  round,  of  every  wish  poesest ! 
liie  in  each  eye,  aqd  joy  in  every  breast  ? 
Shall  1,  on.  what  I  lightly  touch'd,  explam  f 
Shall  I  (vain  thought  I)  attempt  the  finiShM  8tnut$ 
Ko  !-^let  the  poet  stop  unequal  lays. 
And.  to  the  just  historian  yieid  your  praise*-^ 


roiVNfEER  LAUREAT.  . 
A    POKM 

OK   HBR 

MAJE^'S  BIRTH-DAY,  1734^5^ 
No.  III. 

Ik  yottth  no  parent  mirsM  ray  hi^Mt  wMgs^ 
Tirai  Tmlne  to  be  inspir'd  -sdone  by  wrong*; 
Wtongs,  that  with  fife  their  fierce  attack  bd^lu^ 
Drank  infant  iters,  and  still  puntie  lil««HBi. 
tife  scarce  H  Hfie^DcjebtiQB  iiRisiDiiiie  ; 
The  power,  that  loves  in  kmely  ihiSm  ta^S^i 
Offiuihigchelek,ofutfeh(tedirte«s;        .   " 
Whose  weakened  eyes  the  wya  of  trtpetifftew 
rHs  uiliie  th^  meati,  folbiiii^ui  prhl6  to  tedij 
Who  shmis  th>  nbpf«s/d,  toftyrktifc  til^MU 
Whose  iAy 'ft  teuH,  iiM  ^vhoie  ftfft  f«fepMI 
Is  keen  as  aaom,  \ 


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329 


>^>i^  of  bettevoleiit,  oblt^iog  grace. 

Ev^  dn^»k]us  friendship  half  averts  his  fece. 

Thas  sunk  in  ^ckness,  thus  with  ^vties  opprest. 

How  ^all  the  fire  awake  within  my  breast  ? 

How  shall  the  Muse  her  flagging  pinions  raise  ? 

How  tune  her  voice  to  Caitjlina's  praise  ? 

From  jarring  thought  no  toneful  raptures  flow  ; 

These  with  fair  days  and  gentle  seasons  glow : 

Such  give  atone  'Sweet  Philounel  to  sing. 

And  PhHomel  '«  the  poet  of  the  Spring. 
But  woftt  my  soul !  see  yon  celestial  light  t 

Before  whose  lambent  lu&tre  breaks  the  night. 

It  glads  me  lilfe  the  morning  clad  in  dews, 

And  beams  reviving  from  the  vernal  Muse : 

Inspiring  joyous  peace,  ^tis  she !  'tis  she  ! 

A  stranger  long  tu  misery  and  me. 

Her  verdant  mantle  gracefully  declines, 

And,  flower-embroider'd,  as  it  varies,  shines. 
To  form  her  garland,  Zephyr,  from  his  wing, 
Throws  the  first  flowers  and  foliage  of  the  Spring; 

Her  looks  how  lovely  !  health  and  joy  have  lent 
Bloom  lo  her  cheek,  and  to  "her  brow  content. 
Behold,  sw^et-b^ming  her  etheriat  eyes  ! 
Soft  ns  the  Pleiades  o'er  the  dewy  skies. 
She  blunts  the  point  of  care,  alleviates  woes. 
And  pours  (he  balm  of  comfort  and  repose  ; 
Bids  the  heart  yield  to  virtue's  silent  call. 
And  410WS  ambition's  sons  mere  children  all ; 
Who  hunt  for  toys  which  please  with  tinsel  shine ; 
Tdt  which  they  squibble,  and  for  whkh  they  pbae. 
Oh  !  hear  her  voice,  more  mellow  than  the  gale, 
Thatbreath'd  thro*sbepherd'S(Mpe  enchants  the  vale! 
Hark !  she  invites  from  city  smoke  and  noiae» 
Vapo<irs  impure,  and  from  impurer  joys; 
From  various  evils,  that,  with  rage  comhia'd. 
Untune  the  body,  and  pollute  the  mind ; ' 
Prom  crouds,  to  whom  no  social  faith  belongs, 
Who  tread  one  circle  df  deceit  and  wroogv; 
With  whom  politeness  is  but  cWil  guile. 
And  laws  oppress,  exerted  by  the  vile. 
To  this  opposed  the  Muse  presents  the  scene  ;   ' 
Where  sylvan  plea^res  ever  smile  serene  ; 
lieasures  that  emulate  the  blest  above, 
Health,  innocence,  and  peace,  the  Muse,  and  love  j 
Pleasnres  thaft  ravi*,  while^ltemate  wrought 
By  friendly  converse,  and  abstracted  thought    ' 
These  sooth  my  thit>bbingVeast    No'toss  I  rooam; 
Though  both  from  riches  and  from  grandeur  torn. 
We«p  I  a  cniil  mother?  No— I  *ve  seen, 
Flnboi  Heaven,  a  pitying,  a  maternal  queen. 
One  gave  me  h'fe;  but  would  no  comfort  grant; 
She  more  than  fiffe  resumed  by  giving  want 
Would  she  tte  beoig  which  she  gave  destroy  ? 
My  queen  gives  life,  and  bids  me  hope  fbr  joy. 
Hoaeors  and  wealth  I  cheerfully  resign ; 
If  commence,  if  leidiied  ease  be  mine  f 
If  I  hy  mental,  hei^rtfelt  joys  be  fir'd. 
And  in  the  vale  by  all  the  Muse  inspTr'd  ♦ 

Here  cease  my  plaint — See  yon  enlivening  scenes ! 
Child  of  the  %mng !  behold  the  best  of  queens ! 
Sotoess  and  beauty  rose  thh:  heavenly  mom. 
Dawned  wisdom,  and  benevolence  was  bom. ' 
Jijff,  o'er  a  people,  in  T^  influence  rose ; 
LSke  that'  wliich  S^i^  o'er  rural  nature  throws. 
War  to  J^  peacenil  pipe  resigns  his  roar. 
Maid  broils  hi^  bi)k>«ni'on  Amie  distiiiit  shores. 
Domestic  disoofd  ^nks  ben^alh  heir  sthile, 
Aodait;,  tndtia^;  aotf  ple^,  (liidtb«tsl%- 


Lo  f  industry  surveys  with  f6aste4  eyes. 
His  due  reward,  a  plenteous  "harvest  rise  ( 
Nor  (taught  by  commerce)  joys  in  that  alone  ; 
But  sees  the  harvest  of  a  world  his  own. 
Hence  thy  just  praise,  thou  mild,  majestic  Thames  1 
Rich  river  I  richer  than  Pactolos*  streams ! 
Than  those  renowrfd  of  yote,  by  poets  rolPd 
O'er'intermhigled  pearls,  aid  sands  of  gold.     ^ 
How  glorious  thou,  when  from  old  ocean's  unii' , 
Loaded  with  India's  wealth,  %hy  waves  return  i 
Alive  thy  banks  I  along  each  bordering  lina* 
High  cultnr'd  blooms,  inviting  villas  shine  : 
AadVrhile  around  ten  thousand  beauties  glow, . 
These  ^till  o'er  those  redoubling  lustre  throw. 

"tJome  then"  (so  whispei'd  the  indulgent  Mus^ 
"Come then,  in  Richmond  groves  thy  sorrows'Iose  f 
Come  then,  and  hymn  this  day !  The  plaasmg  spene 
Shows,  in  each  view,  the  genius  of  thy  queen,'  ■ 
Hear  Nature  whispering  in  the  breeze-her  song  1 
Hear  her  sweet  warbUng  through  &e  featitei^ 

throng  ! 
Come  1  wrth  the  warbling  world  thy  notel  mute. 
And  with  the  vegetative  smile  delight  I  / 

Sure  such  a  scene  and  song  will  soon  restore  ■-> 
Lost  quiet;  and  give  bliss  unknown  befure ; 
Receive  it  grateftil,  and  adore,  when  grven. 
The  goodness  of  thy  parent  queen,  and  Hea^'en ' 
*<  With  me  each  fHlTate  virtue  lifts  the  voice  s 
While  publk:  spirit  bids  a  land  rejoipe  : 
O'er  all  th^  queen's  benevolence  desoendsy 
And  wide  o*er  all  her  vital  light  extends.  ^  . 
As  wintersoftens  into  spring,  to  3rou  ^  / 

Blooms  ft>rtnne'fl  season,  through  her  smile,  snetr^ 
Still  for  past  bounty,  le^  new  lays  impart        ^ 
The  sweet  effusions  of  a  grateful  heart !     .    ^ 
past  through  the  tel^cope  of  hope  your  eye.! 
There  goodness  infinite,  supreme,  descry ! 
Prom  him  that  ray  of  virtue  stream'd  on  Earthy 
Which  kindled  Caroline's  bright  soul  to  birth. 
Behold !  he  spreads  one  universal  spring ! 
Mortals,  transfbrm'd  to  angels,  then  shall  sing; 
Oppression  then  shall  fly  with  want  and  shamd. 
And  blessing  and  existence  be  the  Same  l" 


rOLUNTBER  LAUREAT. 

k    POEM 
OM  Bia 

MAJESTY'S  BIRT%X>AY,JT35-6t^ 
No.  ITi 

Lo !  the  mildSmi  salutes  the:opeDhig  Spring, 
And  gladdemng  Nature  calls  the  Mmie  to  smg  ; 
Gay  chirp  the  birds,  the  bloomy  sweets  exhale,    ' 
And  health,  and  song,  and  fVagrance  fill  th^  galew^ 
Yet,  mildest  suns,  tome  are  pain  severe,.      '  ^' 
And  musk^'s  self  Is  discord  to  .py  .ear ! 
I,  jocund  Spring,  unsympathi»nf,  see,  . ,«  ^    '* 
And  health,  that  comes  to  all,  comes  not  to  me. 
Deaii  heilth  once  fled,  what  spirits  can  I  fUid  ! 
What  solace  meeC^  when  fled  my  peace  of  romd  ? 
Fhxn  abseut  books  what  studious  hint  devise  ? 
|i«ii  absent  firicndf,  what  aid  to  thoogfat  can  riit  ? 


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S94 


SAVAGE'S  POEMS. 


A  g«nnsb  wWperM  in  my  ear*-"  Go  seek 
Borne  maa  of  state  ! — The  Muse  your  wrongs  may 

spealL'* 
^t  .vfll  such  listen  to  the  plaintive  strain  } 
The  happy  seldom  heed  the  vnbappy*s  pain. 
To  w^th^  to  hoooors,  wherefore  was  I  bom  } 
Why  left  to  poverty,  raptilse;  and  senm  ? . 
Why  was  1  formed  tif  elegant  desires  } 
Thought,  wbtdi  t)eyoni!  a  vulgar  flight  avptres  ! 
Why,  by  the  proud,  and  wicked,  crushed  to  earth  ? 
B^ter  the  day  of  death,  than  day  of  birth  ! 

Tliiis  i  excUum'd :  a  little  cherub  smil'd ;  [child  ! 
**  Hope,  I  am  call*d''  (said  he),  **  a  heaven-bom 
Wmhgs  son  yun  have ;  complara  you  justly  may : 
But  Irt  wild  aorrow  whirl  not  thought  away  ! 
Ko—tmstto  honour  !  that  fou  ne'er  will  stain 
From  peerage-blood,  which  fires  your  filial  vein. 
Trust  more  to  Providence !  fitan  ma  ne'er  swerve  ! 
Opoe  to  distrust,  is  never  to  deserve. 
Bid  not  this  day  a  Caroline  disclose  ? 
I  pitmiis'd  at  her  birth,  and  blessing  rose  ! 
(Blessing,  o'er  alt  ttie  iettar'd  world  to  shine. 
In  knowledge  clear,  beneficence  divine !) 
nis  hers  as  mine,  to  chase  away  despair ; 
Woe  undeseiVd  is  her  peculiar  care. 
Her  bright  benevolence  sends  me  to  grief: 
Oopirant  slieds  bounty,  and  on  wrong  relief.** 

Then  calm-ey^d  PatienoCy  bora  of  angel-kind, 
OpenM  a,  dawn  of  oomfoft  on  my  mind. 
With  her  came  Fortitude  of  god-like  air ! 
These  arm  to  conquer  ills ;  at  least  to  bear : 
AMii*d  thiis,  my  queen,  whil«  wayward  fiites  ortlain. 
My  Vlis  to  lengthen,  but  to  lengthen  pain ; 
Your  ba^,  bis  sorrows  with  a  smile  endures ; 
e'to  be  wretched  »,  to  be  made  yours. 


THX 

mUjyTEER  LAUREAT. 

AN     ODE 

OH  Bta 

MAJEWTs  BIRTH-DaV,  1736-7. 

Ah.  r, 

Te  spirht  bri^iht,  that  ether  rove, 

That  breathe  the  yemal  sooj  of  love  j 

Bid  healtb  descend  hi  balmy  dews, 

And  life  hi  every  gale  diffuse ; 
*I%at  give  tbft  flowers  to  shme,  the  birds  to  sing) 
Oh,'  glafl  tikis  itetal  day,  the  prime  of  ^nring ! 

The  rapn  ii)ow-drap  flipt  appears. 

Her  goMoi  bead  the  cracua  reaisu 

Thtf  flowery  tiribe,  pTOfbse  and  gay. 

Spread  to  Hie  mk,  iwrl^mg  ray. 
80  arts  afasdl  bloom  by  Carolhia's  smile, 
8e  shall  her  fame  waft  ftngiauceeter  the  iski 

The  warblers  varkma,  sweet  and  clear. 

From  bkwmy  sprays  salute  the  year. 

O  Muse,  awake !  ascend  and  smg  I    . 

HaH  tfaefitr  rival  of  the  Spring ! 
To  woodhmd  honouis  woodland  hymns  belong  | 
1^  her,  tbe  pride  of  art« !  the  Muse's  aang. 

Kind,  aa  of  late  her  clement  sway. 

The  season  sheds  a  tepid  ray. 

The  storms  of  Boreas  aave  no  mors ; 

9^  sfeermagf  (actim  cwse  to  roar, 


At  vernal  suns  as  wintery  tempests  6^^\ 
She,  lovely  power !  smiles  iisction  into  peaoB«» 


VOLUNTEER  LAUfUHT, 

For  the  1st  of  March,  1737-8. 
A    POEM 

SACS  so  TO  TRS  MEMOSV   OP 

HER  LATE  MAJESrV. 

■VMBLT   ADDRESSED  TO 
HIS    MAJfSlT. 

No.  VL 

Oft  has  the  Muse,  od  this  disti>igiiish*d  day, 
TimM  to  glad  harmony  the  vem.tl  lay ; 
But,  O  lamented  change !  tlie  lay  must  flow 
From  grateful  rapture  now  to  grateful  woe. 
She,  to  this  day  who  joyous  lustre  gave, 
DeHceufJft  for  ever  tf)  the  sil^t  grave. 
She,  bom  at  once  to  charm  us  and  to  m^nd. 
Of  human  race  the  pattern  and  the  friend. 

To  be  or  fondly  or  severely  kiud. 
To  check  the  rash  or  prompt* the  better  mind, 
Parents  shall  learn  from  her,  and  thus  shall  draw 
From  filial  love  alone  a  filial  awe. 
Who  seek  in  avarice  wisdom *8  art  toaave  ; 
Who  pften  squander,  yet  who  never  gave ; 
From  her  these  knew  the  righteous  mean  to  find. 
And  l\\t  mild  virtue  stole  on  half  mankind. 
The  larisb  now  caught  frugal  wisdom*s  lore ; 
Yet  still,  the  more  they  aav'd,  bestow'd  the  more.-' 
Now  misers  leam'd  at  others  woes  to  melt, 
And  saw  ami  wondered  at  the  change  they  felt. 
The  generous,  when  on  her  they  tum*d  their  vicw^ 
The  generous  ev*n  themselves  more  generous  grew, 
Learn'd  ^he  shunn'd  haunts  of  bhame-&c'd  want  to 

trace  J 
To  goodness,  delicacy,  adding  grace. 
The  conscious  cheek  na  rising  blush  confess'd. 
Nor  dwelt  one  thought  to  pain  the  modest  breast  | 
Kind  and  uioro.kind  dkl  thus  lier  bounty  shower, 
Aud  knew  no  limit  but  a  bounded  power. 
This  truth  tbe  widow's  sighs,  alas !  proclaun  ; 
For  this  the  orphan's  tears  embalm  her  fiune. 
The  wise  beheld  her  learning's  summit  gain. 
Yet  never  giddy  grow,  nor  ever  vain : 
But  Od  one  science  point  a  stedfiut  eye. 
That  science — how  to  live  and  how  to  die. 

Say,  Memory,  while  to  thy  gratefill  sight 
Arise  her  virtiies  in  unfading  light, 
WhaX  jovs  were  ours,  what  sorrows  now  remaiB  s 
Ah !  how  sublime  the  bliss !  hov  deep  tbe  pain  I 

And  thou,  bright  princess,  seated  now  on  h«glv 
Km  one,  tbe  fairest  daughter  of  the  sky> 
Wkose  warm-felt  love  is  to  all  beings  knowi^ 
l%y  sist^.Charity  !  next  her  thy  throne; 
See  at  thy  todkt^  the  Virtues  weepmglie  1 
Th^re  in  dumb  sorrow  seem  Uie  Arts  todie. 
So  wero  tbe  Sun  o'er  otlier  oihs  to  blaz^ 
And  from  our  world,  like  thee,  witliditir  Jm  J 
No  moro  to  visit  where  he  warm^  belbre. 
All  life  must  oeM^  and  Nature  be  no  more. 
Yetahalt  the  Mit^  a  heavenly  height  ^sajr 
BqwMi-^^  vaakness  mix  d  with  manal  clfty| 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


PUBLIC  SPIRIT. 


w 


Beyond  the  kut,  whicb,  though  she  bleeds  to  see. 
Though  no^er  to  be  redeemed,  the  Ion  of  tbee  ! 
Beyond  ev'n  this,  she  bails  with  joyous  lay. 
Thy  better  birth,  thy  aret  true  natal  day ; 
A  day,  that  sees  tbee  biime,  beyond  the  tomb. 
To  eodless  health,  to  youth^s  eternal  bliMin ; 
Borne  to  the  mighty  dead,  the  souls  sublime 
Of  every  femous  age,  and  every  dime ; 
To  goodj^cM  fix'd  by  truth's  unvarying  laws. 
To  bliss  that  knows  no  period,  knows  no  pause- 
Save  when  thinie  eye,  from  yonder  pure  serene^ 
Sbed«  a  soft  eye  on  this  our  gloomv  scene. 

With  me  now  liberty  and  leai-nmg  moiim, 
From  all  relief,  like  thy  '^'Y'^*  consort,  ^»m  ; 
Forwhere  can  prince  or  people  hope  relief. 
When  each  coott^nd  to  be  siipreme  in  grief? 
9o  vy'd  thy  virtue,  that  could  point  the  way, 
^  well  to  govern ;  yet  so  well  obey. 

Deign  one  look  more !  ah !  s^  thy  consort  dear 
Wishing  all  hearts,  except  his  own,  to  cheer. 
Lo !  still  he  bids  thy  wonted  bounty  flow 
To  weeping  ^mailies  of  worth  and  woe. 
He  stops  ail  tears,  however  fast  they  rise, 
Save  those  that  t^tlll  must  fall  from  grateful  eyes. 
And,  spite  of  grieft  that  so  usurp  his  mind, 
5iill  watches  o'er  the  welfare  of  mankind. 

Father  of  those,  whose  rights  thy  care  defends, 
8tiU  ofost  their  own,  when  tnost  their  sovereign's 

iiieiids ; 
Then  chiefly  brave,  from  bondage  chiefly  free, 
'When  most  they  trust,  when  most  they  copy  thee ; 
Ah'   let  the  lowest  of  thy  subjects  pay 
His  honest  heart-felt  tributary  lay ; 
In  anguish  happy,  if  permitted  here, 
One  sigh  to  vent,  to  drop  one  virtuous  tear  3 
Happier,  if  pardonM,  should  he  wildly  moon. 
And  with  a  monarch's  sorrow  mix  his  own. 


OF 

PUBLIC  SPIRIT 

IN   REGARD  TO 

PUBLIC  WORKS: 

AN   IPISfLB 
TO   HIS   ROYAL   HIGHNESS 

FREDBRIC  PRINCE  OF  WALES, 


Of  reaervoivB,  and  their  use ;  of  drmhihif  Ifens,  and 
'  building  brif^ges,  cutting  canals,  repairing  bar* 
boors,  and  stripping  inundations,  m^kii^  riven 
navigable,  building  light^bouttes^  of  agriculture, 
gardening,  and  pUntiiig  for  the  noblest  uses ;  of 
coQuneroe;  of  public  roads;  of  publiq  baikl- 
tags,  viz.  squares,  streets,  mansions^  palaces, 
courts  of  jnkice,  leDate-bouses,  theatres,  hospi- 
tals, churches,  colleges;  the  variety  of  worthiet 
produced  by  the  latter;  of  colonies,  the  slave- 
trade  censured,  ^tc 

GaaAT  Hope  of  Britain !— Heie  the  Muie  enayt 
AtlRBiDe,  which,  to  attempt  alone,  is  praise. 
Be  bar's  a  zeal  of  Public  Spirit  known ! 
A  pcinoely  «oal !— a  spirit  all  your  own  I 


Where  never  Science  beamM  a  friendly  ray» 
Where  one  vast  blank  neglected  Nature  lay  ^ 
From  Public  Spirit  there,  by  arts  emplo^*a. 
Creation,  varying,  glads  the  cheerless  void. 
Hail,  Arts !  where  safety,  troasure,  and  delight, 
On  land,  on  wave,  in  wondrons  worin  unite  I 
Those  wondrous  works,  O  Muse  1  successive  raiae^ 
And  point  their  worth,  thdr  dignity,  and  praise  1 

What  though  no  streams,  magnificenuy  play'^ 
Rise  a  proud  column,  £sU  a  grand  cascade ; 
Through  nether  pipes,  which  nobler  use  renowns^ 
Lo !  ductile  rivuleU  visit  distant  towns ! 
Now 'Vanish  fens,  whence  vapours  rise  no  more, 
Whose  agueish  iufluence  tainted  heaven  belMre^ 
The  solid  isthmus  sinks  a  watery  space. 
And  wonders,  in  new  state,  at  naval  grace. 
Where  the  flood  deepening  rolls,  or  wide  extends. 
From  ruad  to  road  yon  arch,  connectrro  bends: 
Where  ports  were  chok*d;  where  mounds,  in  vaSp,. 

arose; 
There  harbours  open,  and  there  breaches  eloae; 
To  keels,  obedient,  spreads  each  liquid  plain. 
And  bulwark  moles  repel  the  boisterous  main. 
When  the  sunk  Sjm  no  homeward  sail  befriends. 
On  the  rock^s  brow  the  light-house  kind  ascends, 
And  from  the  shoaly,  o'er  the  gnlfy  way. 
Points  to  the  pilot's  eye  the  warning  ray. 

Count  still,  my  Muse  (to  count,  what  Muse  can 
cease?) 
The  works  of  Public  Spirit,  freedom,  peace  1 
By  them  shall  plants,  in  forests,  reach  the  skies;  . 
Then  lose  their  leafy  pride,  wpd  navies  rise. 
(Navies,  which  to  invasive  foes  explain. 
Heaven  throws  not  round  us  rocks  siid  seas  in  vain)  : 
The  sail  of  commerce  in  each  sky  aspires. 
And  property  assures  what  toil  acquires. 

Who  digs  the  mine  or  quarry,  digs  with  glee; 
No  slave !— His  option  and  his  gain  are  free  : 
Him  the  same  laws  the  same  protection  yield. 
Who  plows  the  ftirrow,  or  who  owns  the  fteld. 

Unlike,  where  tyranny  the  rod  maintahis 
0*er  turfl^,  leafless,  and  unoultur'd  plains. 
Here  heihs  of  food  and  physic  plenty  showers. 
Gives  fruits  to  blush,  and  coUmri  various  flowers. 
Where  sands  or  stony  wilds  once  starv*d  the  year. 
Laughs  the  green  lawn,  and  nods  the  golden  ear : 
White  shine  the  fleecy  race,  which  &te  shall  doote 
The  feast  of  IHe,  the  treasure  of  the  loom. 

On  plains  now  hare  shall  gardens  wave  their 
groves; 
While  setSing  songsters  woo  their  fieather*d  loves* 
Where  pathless  woods  no  grateful  openings  kaeWg 
Walks  tempt  the  step,  and  vistas  court  the  view. 
See  th^  parterre  confess  expansive  day ; 
The  grot,  elusive  of  the  noon-tide  ray. 
Up  3^n  green  slope  a  length  of  terrace  Ties, 
Whence  gradual  landscapes  fede  in  distant  skiesr 
Now  the  Dine  lake  reflected  heaven  displays  ; 
Now  darkens,  regulariy-wild,  the  maze. 
Urns,  obelisks,  fanes,  statues  intervene  ; 
Now  centre,  now  commence,  or  end  the  scene. 
Lo,  proud  alcoves !  lo,  soft  sequestered  bowecil 
Retreats  of  social,  or  of  studious  hours  ( 
Rank  above  rank  here  shapely- greens  ascend; 
There  others  natively-grotesque  depend. 
The  rnde,  the  delicate,  immiagled  tell 
How  Art  wouM  Nature,  Nature  Art  excel; 
And  bow,  while  these  their  rival  charms  impaft| 
Art  brigbtois  Nat«r^  Nature,  brightens  Art» 


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32iJ 


SAVAGES  POEMS. 


Thuf ,  in  tbft  various,  yet  hannontons  space. 
Blend  order,  symmetry,  and  force,  and  grace. 
When  tbese  from  Public  Spirit  smile,  we  see 
Tree-opening  gates,  and  bowery  pleasures  free ; 
Tor  sure  great  souls  one  truth  can  never  miss, 
3Vips  i^t  communicated  is  not  bliss. 

Tbys  Public  Spirit,  liberty,  and  peace. 
Carve,  build ,  and  plant,  and  give  the  land  increase. 
From  peasant  hands  imperial  works  arise, 
And  British  hence  with  Roman  grandeur  vies ; 
Not  grandeur  that  in  pompous  whim  appears, 
That  levels  hills,  that  vales  to  mountains  rears; 
That  alters  Nature's  regulated  grace. 
Meaning  to  deck,  but  destined  to  deface. 
Though  no  proud  gates,  with  China's  taught  to  vie. 
Magnificently  useless  stpke  the  eye ; 
(U^ess,  w^ere  rocks  a  surfer  barrier  lend. 
Where  sea^  encircle,  and  where  fleets  defend ;) 
What  though  no  arch  of  triumph  is  assign *d 
To  laurel 'd  pride,  whose  sword  has  tAinn'd  mankind  ; 
Though  no  vast  wall  extends  from  coast  to  coast, 
K*>  pyramid  aspires,  sublimely  lost ; 
Yet  the  safe  road  through  rocks  shall  winding  tend, 
And  the  firm  Ca'iseway  o'er  the  clajrs  ascaid. 
lio!  stately  streets,  lo !  ample  squares  invite 
The  salutary  gale,  that  breathes  delight.  . 
Jjo !  structures  mark  the  charitable  soil 
^or  casual  ill,  ;naim*d  valour,  feeble  toil 
Worn,  but  with  care,  infirmity,  and  age ; 
The  life  here  entering,  quitting  there  the  stage : 
The  babe  of  lawU^ss  birth,  doom'd  else  to  moan, 
To  starve  or  bleed  for  errours  not  his  own  I 
Let  the  frail  mother  'scape  the  fanie  defiPd, 
If  from  the  murdering  mother  *scape  the  child! 
Oh  I  guard  his  >x>uth  from  sin's  alluring  voice ; 
From  deeds  of  dire  necessity,  not  choice  ! 
His  gnrateful  hand,  thus  never  harmful  known. 
Shall  on  the  public  welfare  build  his  own. 

Thus  worthy  crafU,  which  low -bom  life  divide, 
ivive  towns  their  opulence,  and  courts  their  pride. 
Siacred  to  pleasure  structures  rise  elate, 
To  that  still  worthy  of  the  wise  and  great 
Sacrbd  to  pleasure  then  shall  piles  ascend  ? 
Tliey  shall — wheh  pleasure  and  instniotion  blend. 
JLet  theatres  from  Public  Spirt  shine  ! 
Such  theatres,  as,  Athens,  once  were  thine  I 
See !  the  gay  Muse  of  pointed  wit  possest. 
Who  makes  the  virtuous  laugh,  the  decent  jest; 
What  though  she  mock,  she  mocks  with  holiest  SMcn, 
An^  laughs  each  favounte  folly  htto  shaAie, 
With  liberal  light  the  tragic  charms  the  age  j 
In  solemn  training  robes  she  fills  the  stage ; 
There  human  nature,  marVd  in  different  lines^ 
Alive  in  character  distinctly  shines. 
Quick  passions  change  alternate  on  her  fbce; 
Her  diction  music,  as  her  action  grace. 
Instant  we  catch  her  terrour-giving  caret, 
Pathetic  sighs,  and  pity  moving  tears ; 
Instant  we  catch  her  generous  glow  of  soul, 
Till  one  great  striking  moral  crowns  the  whole. 

Hence  in  warm  youth,  by  scenes  of  virtne  taught. 
Honour  exalts,  and  lov6  expands  the  thought ! 
Hence  pity,  to  peculiar  grief  assigned, 
Gioirs  wide  benevolence  to  all  n^ankind. 

Where  vario<is  edifice  the  land  renowns 
There  Public  Spirit  plans,  exalts,  and  crowns. 
She  cheers  the  mansion  with  the  spacious  hall. 
Bids  painting  live  al9ng  the  storied  wall. 
Seated;  she  smiling  eyes  th'  unclosing  dooft 
And  much  abie  welooinet  aU^  but  most  tlie  poor  5 


She  turns  the  pillar,  or  the  ardi  she  betrfs. 
The  choir  she  lengthens,  or  the  choir  extends  ; 
She  rears  the  tc»rer,  whose  height  the  heavens  admimi 
She  rears,  she  rounds,  she  points  the  hstening  spire  j 
At  her  comniand  the  college-roofs  ascend 
(For  Public  Spirit  stilj  is  learning's  friend). 
Stupendous  piles,  which  useful  pomp  compleats: 
Thus  rise  Religion's  and  thus  Leamibg's  seats 
There  moral  truth  and  holy  science  spring. 
And  give  the  sage  to  teach,  the  bard  to  uing  ; 
There  some  draw  heahhfrom  herbs  and  mrm;ral  veins« 
Some  search  the  syi^tems  of  the  heavenly  plains  ^  , 
Some  call  from  history  past  tiraen  to  new. 
And  others  trace  old  laws,  and  sketch  out  new  ; 
Thence  saving.rights  by  legislators  plann**d, 
And  guardian  patriots  thence  inspire  the  land. 

Now  grant,  ye  powers,  one  great,  one  food  desire^ 
And,  jgranting,  bid  a  new  Whitehall  aspire ! 
Far  let  it  lead,  by  well  pleasM  Thames  siirvey'd^ 
The  swelling  arch,  and  stately  colonnade ; 
Bids  courts  of  justice,  senate-chambers  join, 
Till  various  all  in  one  proud  work  combine ! 
Bat  now  be  all  the  generous  goddess  seen. 
When  most  diffused  she  shines,  and  roost  benign  f 
,  Ye  sons  of,misery,  attract  her  view  I 
Ye  sallow,  hollow-eyed,  and  meagre  crew? 
*Such  high  perfection  have  our  arts  attain'd. 
That  now  few  sons  of  toil  our  artj)  demand  f 
Then  to  the  public,  to  itself,  we  fear, 
Ev*n  willing  indujitry  grows  useless  hi?re. 
Are  we  too  populous  at  length  confessed. 
From  confluent  strangers  refhg'd  and  redress'd  ? 
Has  war  so  long  withdrawn  his  barbarous  train ^ 
That  peace  o'erstocks  us  with  the  sow  of  men  ? 
So  long  has  plag*ae  left  pure  the  ambient  air. 
That  want  must  prey  on  tliose  disease  wonid' spare  f 
Hence  beauteous  wretches  (beauty's  fiiul  disgrace  f ) 
Though  bom  the  pride,  the  shame  of  human  race  ^ 
Fair  wretches  hence,  who  nightly  streets  annoy. 
Live  bat  themselves  and  others  to  destroy. 
Hence  robbers  rise,  to  theft,  to  Aiurder  prone. 
First  driven  by  want,  firum  habit  desperate  growoj 
Hence  for  ow'd  trifles  oft  our  jails  contain 
(Tom  firum  mankind)  a  miserable  train ; 
Tom  firom,  in  spite  qf  Nature's  tenderest  cries^ 
Parental,  filial,  and  connubial  ties : 
The  trader,  when  on  every  side  distrest. 
Hence  flies  to  what  expedient  frauds  suggest; 
To  prop  hk  qoestion'd  credit's  tottering  state. 
Others  he  firsf  involves  to  share  \us  fete ; 
Then  for  mean  refuge  must  self-exil'd  roam 
Never  to  hope  a  friend,  nor  find  a  home. 

This  Public  Spirit  sees,  she  sees  and  feels ! 
Her  br^st  tfie  throb,  her  eye  the  tear  reveada  ; 
(The  patriot  throb  that  beats,  the  tear  that  flow* 
For  others'  welfere,  and  for  others*  woes) — 
**  And  what  can  I"  (she  said)  **  to  cure  their  griefs 
Shall  I  or  point  out  death,  or  point  relief  ^ 
Forth  shall  I  lead  them  to  some  happier  toil. 
To  oonqnest  lead  them,  and  enrich  with  spoil  ? 
Bkl  them  convulse  a  world,  make  Nature  grosi^ 
And  spill,  in  sheddhig  otbm  blood,  their  own  } 
No,  no-'Sucli  wars  do  thoa,  Ambition,  wage  I 
Go  sterilize  the  fertile  with  thy  rage  I 
Whole  natkns  to  depopulate  is  thme ; 
To  people,  culture,  and  nrotect,  be  nune  I 
Then  range  the  world,  Discofvery  (^-Straight  lie gde« 
O'er  teas,  o'er  Libya's  sands,  and  Zembla^s  siio«»  j^ 
He  settled  where  kind  rays  till  now  haVe  mil'd'  *- 
(Vain  aoiiie!]  on  aDine  luxuriant bouaek»vild^' 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


TO  MR.  DYER. 


52r 


^am  many  knIi  of  vant  mjght  here  enjoy 

What  Natore  ghres  for  age  but  to  destroy  ? 

*•  Blush,  blush,  O  Sun"  (she  cries)  **  here  rainly 

To  rise,  to  set,  to  roll  th6  seasons  round !      [fvund. 

Shall  heaven  distjl  in  devs,  descend  in  rain, 

Troni  earth  gush  fountains,  rivers  flow — in  vain  ? 

There  shall  the  watery  lives  in  myriads  stray, 

And  be,  to  be  alone  each  other's  prey  ? 

Unsought  shall  here  the  teeming  quarries  owq 

The  various  species  of  mechanic  stone  ? 

Prom  structure  this,  fix>m  stnilpture  that  confine } 

Shall  rocks  forbid  the  latent  gem  to  shine  ? 

Shall  mines,  obedient,  aid  no  artist's  care. 

Nor  give  the  martial  switrd,  and  peaceful  share  ? 

Ah  !  shall  they  never  precious  ore  unfold. 

To  smile  in  silrer,  or  to  ^ame  in  gold  ? 

Shall  here  the  vegetable  world  alone. 

For  joys,  for  various  virtues,  rest  unknown  ? 

While  food  and  physic,  plants  and  herbs  supply, 

flere  must  they  shoot  alone  to  bloom  and  die  ? 

Shall  fruits,  which  none  but  brutal  eyes  survey, 

TJntouch'd  grow  ripe,  untasted  drop  away  ? 

Shall  here  tb*  irrational,  the  savage  kind, 

Jjord  it  o*er  stores  by  Heaven  for  man  design*d. 

And  trample  what  mild  suns  benignly  raise. 

While  man  must  lose  the  use,  and  Heaven  the  praise  ? 

Shall  it  then  be  ?'' — (Indignant  here  she  rose. 

Indignant,  yet  humane,  her  bosom  glows)— 

^  Hoi  By  each  honour'd  Grecian,  Roman  name. 

By  men  for  virtue  deify'd  by  fame. 

Who  peopled  lands,  who  model'd  infant  state. 

And  then  bade  empire  be  maturely  great ; 

By  these  I  swear  (be  witness  earth  and  skies !) 

Tair  Otdibr  here  shall  from  Confusion  rise. 

Kapt,  1  a  future  colony  sur\'ey  ? 

Ccine  then,  ye  sons  of  Misery  I  come  away  f 

Let  those,  whose  sorrows  from  neglect  are  known 

(Here  taught,  compell'd,  empower'd)  neglect  atone ! 

Let  those  enjoy,  who  never  merit  woes. 

In  youth  th'  industrious  wish,  in  age  repose  ! 

Allotted  acres  (no  reluctant  soil) 

Shall  prompt  their  industry,  and  pay  tbeir  toiL 

Let  families,  long  strangers  to  delight. 

Whom  wayward  Fate  dispersed,  by  me  unite  ; 

Here  live  ei\|oying  Irfo;  see  plenty,  peace ; 

Their  lands  mcreasing  as  their  sons  increase. 

As  Nature  yet  is  found,  in  leafy  glades. 

To  intermix  the  walks  with  Kghts  and  shades  ; 

Or  aM  irith  good  and  ill,  in  chequerM  strife, 

Various  the  goddess  colours  human  life : 

80,  in  this  fortile  dime,  if  yet  are  seen 

Moors,  marshes,  cliffii,  by  turns  to  intervene  ; 

Where  eiifb,  moors,  marshes,  desolate  the  view. 

Where  haunts  the  bittern,  and  where  screams  the 

mew; 
Where  prowls  ^e  wolf,  where  roll'd  the  serpent  lies. 
Shall  solema  fanas  aad  halls  of  justice  lise. 
And  towns  shall  qpen  (all  ofjstnicture  fair !) 
To  brightening  prospects,  aiid  to  jpi^est  air ; 
Frequ^irtad  pi»4s,  and  vineyanis  jsreen  succ^. 
And  flocks  increasing  whiten  all  the  mead. 
On  science  science,  arts  on  arts  refine ; 
On  these  from  high  s4i  Heavtn  siull  snilinf  shine, 
And  Public  Spirit  here  a  people  sbow, 
Pree,  MMtienms,  p1eas*d,  and  busy  4ill  Maw. 

**  Learn,  future  natives  9f  this  promisM  land. 
What  your  forefathers  ow'd  nay  saving  hand ! 
Learn,  when  dei|)air  such  sudoen  bliss  shall  see^ 


Uo  you  the  ndghbouring  blameless  Indian  aid. 
Culture  what  he  neglecu,  ndt  his  invade. 
Bare  not,  oh  dare  not,  with  ambittoi|S  view,- 
Force  or  demand  subjection  never  due. 
Let,  by  my  specious  name,  no  tyrants  rise. 
And  cry,  while  they  enslave,  they  civilize  * 
Know,  Liberty  and  I  are  still  the  same, 
Congenial  I— ever  mingling  flame  with  flam^l 
Why  must  I  Afiric*s  sable  children  see 
Vended  for  slaves,  though  form'd  by  Nature  fref^^ 
The  namele^  tortnres  cruel  minds  invent. 
Those  to  subject,  whom  Nature  equal  meant ) 
If  these  you  dare  (albeit  unjust  socoess 
Empowers  you  now  unpunis'd  to  oppress) 
Revolving  empire  you  and  your^s  may  doom 
(Rome  all  subdued,  yet  Vandals  vanquish'd  Rome) 
Yes,  empire  may  revolve,  give  them  the  day. 
And  yoke  may  yoke,  and  blood  may  blood  repay.^ 

Thus  (ah  !  how  fkr  imequal'd  by  my  lajrs, 
Unskiird  the  heart  to  melt,  or  mind  to  nuse), 
Sublime,  benevolent,  deep,  sweetly  dear. 
Worthy  a  Thomson's  Muse,  a  Frederic's  ear, 
Thu^  spoke  the  Goddess.    Hius  I  faintly  teU 
In  what  lov'd  works  Heaven  gives  her  to  exceL 
But  who  her  sons,  that,  to  her  interest  true. 
Conversant  lead  her  to  a  prince  like  you? 
These,  sir,  salute  you  from  life's  middle  state. 
Rich  without  gold,  and  without  titles  great : 
Knowledge  of  books  and  men  ex^  tbeir  thoughly 
In  wit  accomplish'd,  though  m  wiles  untaught. 
Careless  of  whispers  meant  to  wound  their  namep 
Nor  sneer'd  nor  brib'd  from  virtue  mto  shame  ; 
In  letters  elegant,  in  honour  bright. 
They  come,  they  catch, and  they  reflect  delii^t. 

Mixing  with  these,  a  few  of  rank  are  fbund,  ' 
For  councils,  embassies,  and  camps  renown'cL 
Vers'd  in  gay  life,  in  honest  maxims  read. 
And  ever  warm  of  heart,  yet  cool  of  head. 
Prom  these  the  circling  glass  gives  wit  to  shine. 
The  bright  grow  brighter,  and  ev'n  courts  refine| 
From  these  so  gifted,  candid,  and  upright. 
Flows  knowledge,  softening  into  ease  polite. 

Happy  Uh*  men,  who  such  a  prince  can  please! 
Happy  the  prince  rever*d  by  nten  like  these  I 
His  condescensions  dignity  display. 
Grave  with  the  wise,  and  with  the  witty  gay ; 
For  him  fine  marble  in  the  quarry  lies. 
Which,  in  due  statues,  to  his  fame  shall  rise  1 
Bver  shall  Public  Spirit  beam  his  praise, 
And  the  Muse  swell  it  in  i^miortal  lays. 


MR.  JOHS  DYER,  A  PAINTER, 

ADVISliro  HIM  TO  naAW  a  CSKTAfir 

NOBLE  AND  ILLUSrrRIOUS  PERSON; 

OCCASIOMID  ST  SMIMO  HIS  PICTUftB  OF  TBI 

cELtssATSj)  Clio  '  • 

FomcivB  an  artless,  an  offioioos  firieni. 
Weak,  when  I  judge,  but  willing  to  commend 
Riirn  as  I  am,  by  no  kind  fbrtnne  rais'd, 
Deprete'd,dMCQi^  unpityM,  and  onprais'd; 
Yet,  when  these  well-known  features  i  neru^e^ 
Some  waimth  awakes— sooie  emben  oi^j/ff^ 


4«Sr«Pjr«^>i*oeaic» 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


SfS 


SAVAGE'S  POEMS. 


Ye  MuMB,  Qraoes;  tod  ye  Lore«,  appear ! 
Your  queen,  your  Venus,  and  your  Clio's  here  ! 
In  such  pure  fires  her  rising  thoughts  refine  I 
Her  eye^  with  such  commanding  sweetness  shine : 
Such  vivid  tinctures  sure  through  ether  glow. 
Stain  summer  clouds,  or  gild  the  watery  bow ; 
If  life  Pygmalioo*s  ivory  &vourite  fir'd, 
Sure  some  enamour'd  god  this  draught  inspirM ! 
Or,  if  you  rashly  caught  Promethean  flanne. 
Shade  the  sweet  thidft,  and  mar  the  heauteous  frame ! 
Yet  if  those  cheering  lights  the  prospect  fly. 
Ah  i — let  no  pleasing  view  the  loss  supply. 
Some  drefldry  den,  some  desert  waste  prepare. 
Wild  at  my  thoughts,  or  dark  as  my  despair. 

But  still,  my  friend,  still  the  sweet  object  sta3rs. 
Still  stream  your  colours  fich  with  Clio^s  rays  1 
Sure  at  each  kindling  toach  your  canvass  glows! 
Sure  the  full  form,  instinct  with  sphrit,  grows ! 
Let  tl^  dull  artist  puzzling  rules  explore. 
Dwell  on  the  face,  and  g^ze  the  features  o'eri 
You  eye  the  soul-^there  genuine  nature  find, 
You,  tnrough  the  meaning  muscles,  strike  the  mind. 

Nor  can  one  view  such  boundless  ptiwer  confine, 
AH  Nature  opens  to  an  art  like  thine  < 
Now  rural  scenes  in  simple  grandeur  rise ; 
Vales,hills,  lawns,  lakes,  and  vineyards  feast  our  eyes. 
Now  halcyon  Peace  a  smiling  aspect  wears ! 
Now  the  red  scene  with  war  aud  ruin  glares  1 
Here  Britain's  fleets  o'er  Europe's  seas  preside  ! 
There  long-lost  cities  rear  their  ancient  pride  ; 
You  from  th^  grave  can  half  redeem  the  slain. 
And  bid  great  Julius  charm  the  world  again  : 
MariL  out  Pbarsaiia's,  mark  out  Munda's  fray. 
And  image  all  the  honours  of  the  day. 

But  if  new  glories  most  our  warmth  excite  ; 
If  toils  untry'd  to  noblest  aims  invite ; 
Would  you  in  en^'y'd  pomp  nnrival'd  reign. 
Oh,  let  Horatius  grace  the  canvass  plain  I 
His  form  might  ev*n  idolatry  create, 
fn  lineage,  titles,  wealth,  and  worth  elate  I 
Empires  to  him  might  virgin  honours  owe. 
From  him  arts,  arms,  and  laws,  new  influence  know. 
For  him  kind  suns  on  fruits  and  grains  shall  shine. 
And  future  gold  lie  ripening  in  the  mine ; 
For  him  fine  marble  in  the  quarry  lies, 
Which,  in  due  statues,  to  his  fame  shal)  rise. 
Through  those  bright  features  Caesar's  spirit  trace. 
Each  conquering  sweetness,  each  imperial  grace 
All  that  is  8oft«  or  eminently  great. 
In  love,  in  war,  in  |inowledge,  or  in  state. 

Thus  shall  your  colours,  like  his  worth  anaaae ! 
Thus  shall  you  charm,  enrich'd  with  Qio's  praise  I 
Clear,  and  more  clear,  your  golden  genius  shines, 
l^Vliile  my  dim  lamp  of  life  obscure  deolines : 
Buird  in  damp  shades,  it  wastes,  imseen,  away. 
While  yours,  ^umphant,  grows  ooe  blaze  of  day , 


VERSES 

.SENT  TO 

jiJRON  HlLLy  ESS. 
WrrB  THE  Tragbdt  op  Sia  Thomas  Ove«bi;iit„ 

BXPBCTIMO   HIM   TO   COaaBCT   VT. 

As  the  soul,  stript  of  mortal  clay. 

Grows  all  divinely  feir, 
4Lnd  .boundless  rpves  the  milky  way, 

Aiul  vie^  sweet  prosj^ects  th^re^ 


This  hero,  clogg'd  with  dro^  Tmt% 
By  thee  new,  vigour  tries ; 

As  thy  correcting  hand  refines. 
Bright  scenes  around  him  rise. 

Thy  touch  brings  the  wish'd  stone  to 
So  sought,  so  long  fbretold; 

k  turns  polluted  lead  or  bnus. 
At  onoe  to  purest  fold. 


FROLOGVB 


SPOKSV   AT  THE   IKVITAl  OF 

SHAKESPEARE  s  KINO  HENRY  THE  S{XTQ» 

AT  THE   THBATftE-ROTAl   IW  BRUtY-LAVB. 

Printed  before  the  play  from  a  spurious  oopy. 

To  MiQHT  a  paitient  ear,  ye  Britons,  lend. 

And  to  your  great  forefktheit'  deeds  attend. 

Here,  cheaply  wam'd,  ye  blest  descendants,  vieW|^ 

What  ills  on  England,  Ovil  Discoid  drew. 

To  wound  the  heart,  the  martial  Muse  prepares ; 

While  the  red  scene  with  raging  slaughter  glares. 

Here,  while  a  monarch's  siiflerings  we  relate. 
Let  generous  grief  his  niin'd  grandeur  wait. 
While  Second  Richard's  blood  for  vengeance  calla^ 
Doom'd  for  his  grandsire's  guilt,  poor  Henry  iallu 
in  civil  jars  avenging  judgm<nit  blows. 
And  royal  wrongs  entail  a  people'^  woes. 
Henry  unversed  in  wiles,  more  good  than  great. 
Drew  on  by  meekness  his  disastrous  fote. 

Thus  when  you  see  this  land  by  fiiction  tost. 
Her  nobles  slain,  her  laws,  her  freedom  lost ; 
Let  this  reflection  from  the  action  flow. 
We  ne'er  from  foreign  foet  oould  ruin  know. 
Oh,  let  us  then  intestine  discord  shun. 
We  ne'er  can  be,  but  by  ourselves  undone  t 


raw 
AVIMJLCULEi 

A  TALB. 

OCOASfOKBn  BY   RIS  Gl^CB  THE   DUKE   OP  atTTLAmif 

BBCBIVINO  TUB  iMALL-POl  BV  IJIOCtltATIOlla 

In  Animalcules,  Mnse.  display 

Spiriu,  of  name  unknown  in  song  ! 

Reader,  a  kind  attention  pay. 

Nor  think  an  useful  comment  \aag^ 

Far  lest  than  nutes,  on  mitee  thcj  prey ; 

Minutest  things  my  swarms  oontata-: 
When  o'er  your  ivory  teeth  they  sway. 

Then  throb  yonr  little  nerves  with  paiQ, 

Fluids,  in  drops,  minutely  swell ; 

Tlieae  subtil  beings  each  contains; 
In  the  small  sangoine  globes  they  dwell, 

RoU  from  the  heart  and  trace  the  veina. 

Through  every  tender  tube  they  rove. 

In  finer  spirits  strike  the  brain ; 
Wind  quick  through  evefy  fibrous  grove. 
And  seekj  through  pofeB^  the  h^«r|«f>^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


TO  MRS.  HAYWOOD. 


ai9 


tt  iSbmy  with  purer  drop«  dilate, 

And  lodge  were  entity  began. 
They  actuate  with  a  genial  heat, 

And  kindle  into  future  man. 

But,  w\en  our  lives  are  Nature's  due. 

Air,  seas,  nor  fire,  their  frames  diosolft 

They  matter,  through  all  forms,  pursue. 
And  oft  to  genial  heats  revolve. 

Thns  once  an  Animalcule  prov'd. 

When  man,  a  patron  to  the  bays ; 
TTiis  patron  was  in  Greece  belav*d  ; 
Yet  frme  was  fiuthless  to  his  praise. 

I9  Rome  this  Animalcule  grew 
^      MsBcenas,  whom  the  classics  rate ! 
Among  the  Gauls,  it  provM  Ricblieu, 
In  learning,  power,  and  bounty  great. 

In  Britain,  Halifiuc  it  rose ; 

(By  Halifax,  bloom'd  Congreve's  strains)  | 
And  now  It  rediminish'd  glows. 

To  glide  through  godhke  Rutland's  veins* 

A  plague  there  is,  too  many  know ; 

Too  seldom  perfect  cures  be&l  it; 
The  Mute  may  term  it  Beauty*s  ftje ; 

In  physic,  the  Small-PoK  we  call  it 

Pirom  Turks  we  learn  this  plague  Cassuage, 
They,  by  admitting,  turn  its  course : 

Tbeir  kiss  will  tame  the  tumour's  rage  ; 
By  yiekling,  they  o'ercume  the  force. 

Thus  Rutland  did  its  touch  invite. 

While,  watchful  in  the  ambient  air. 

This  little,  guardian,  subtle  spright 
Did  with  the  poison  in  repair. 

Tb'infection  from  the  heart  it  clears  ; 

Th*in€8ction,  now  diUted  thin. 
In  pearly  pimpl^  but  appears, 

£xpeird  upon  the  surface  skin. 

And  now  it,  mouldering,  wastes  away  : 

Tis  gone  l^doom'd  to  return  no  more  I 

Our  Animalcule  keeps  its  j^y, 

And  mu^  new  labyrinths  explore. 

And  now  the  noble's  thoughts  are  seen, 
UnmarkM,  it  views  bis  heart's  desires  I 

It  now  reflects  what  it  has  been. 

And,  rapturous,  at  his  change  admires  I 

|ts  pristine  virtues  kept,  combine. 
To  be  again  in  Rutland  known  ; 

But  they,  inNners'd,  no  longer  shine. 
Nor  equiU,  nor  increase  his  own. 


MRS.  EUZ,  HAYirOOD, 
OM  naa  iiotbl,  CALimn, 
THE  RASH  RESOLVE. 

DooM*D  to  a  Ibte  which  damps  the  poet's  flame, 
A  Muse,  unfriended,  greets  thy  rising  name  1 
Unvers'd  in  tnvy%  or  in  flattery's  phrase, 
OfMrtMH  th^  flies,  yet  merit  ckiait  her  pn 


ihorpiiiifli 


Nor  will  she,  at  her  withering  wreath  rephi^ 
But  smile,  if  fiune  and  fortune  chensh  thine. 

The  Sciences  in  thy  sweet  genius  chann. 
And,  with  their  strength,  4hy  sex's  softness  anOb 
In  thy  full  figures,  paint^'s  force  we  find. 
As  music  fires,  thy  language  lifts  the  mind. 
Thy  power  gives  form,  and  touches  into  lifo 
The  passions  imag*d  in  their  bleeding  strife : 
Contrasted  strokes,  true  art  and  fancy  show, 
And  lights  and  shades  in  lively  mixture  flow. 
Hope  attacks  Fear,  and  Reason^  Love's  control. 
Jealousy  wounds,  and  Friendship  heab  the  soul : 
Black  Falsehood  wtsrs  bright  Gallantry's  disguise^ 
And  the  gilt  cloud  enchants  the  fisir-one's  eyes^ 
Thy  dames,  in  grief  and  frailties  lovely  shine. 
And  when  most  mortal  half  appear  divine. 
If,  when  some  god-like,  favourite  passioQ  sways^ 
The  willing  heart  too  fotally  obe3rs. 
Great  minds  lament  what  cruel  censure  blames. 
And  ruin'd  virtue  generous  pity  claims. 

Eliza,  still  impatient  fove's  powerful  qoeen ! 
Let  love,  soft  love,  exalt  each  swelling  seene. 
Arm'd  with  keen  wit,  in  fame's  wide  lists  advance  I 
Spain  yields  in  fiction,  in  politeness  France. 
Such  orient  Kght,  as  the  first  poets  knew,  • 
Flames  from  thy  thought,  and  brightens  every  Tiew  I 
A  strong,  a  glonous,  a  hncariantfire, 
Wluch  warms  cold  wisdom  uito  wikl  desire  f 
Thy  &ble  glows  so  rich  through  every  page, 
WhtX  moral's  force  can  the  fierce  heat  assuage  ? 

And  yet — but  say  if  ever  doom'd  to  prore 
The  sad,  the  dear  perplexities  of  love ! 
Where  seeming  transport  softens  every  pain, 
Where  fsucy'd  freedom  waits  the  winnii^  chain; 
Varying  from  pangs  to  visionary  joys. 
Sweet  is  ihe  £ste,  and  charms  as  it  destroys ! 
Say  then — if  love  to  sodden  rage  gives  way. 
Will  the  soft  passion  not  resume  its  sway  } 
Charming,  and  charm *d  can  love  from  love  retire  I 
Can  a  cold  convent  quench  th'  unwilling  fire  ? 
Precept,  if  human,  may  our  thoughts  refine. 
More  we  admhre !  but  cannot  prove  diTine. 


AM 

APOLOGY  TO  BRILLAHTE. 

POa   HAVING 

LONG  OMITTED  WRITING  IN  VERSE. 

IN    IMITATIOII   or   A   CESTAIN    MIMIC   Of  ANACaXOl^ 

Can  I  matchless  charms  recite  } 
Souroeof  ever-springing  light  I 
Could  I  count  the  vernal  flowers. 
Count  in  endless  time  the  hours  ; 
Count  the  countless  stars  above. 
Count  the  captive  hearts  of  Love  ; 
Paint  the  torture  of  hn  fire, 
Parat  the  pangs  those  eyes  inspire  I 
(Pleasmg  iprture,  thus  to  shine, 
Purify'd  by  fires  like  thine  1 
Then  Pd  strike  the  sounding  stringf 
Then  I'd  thy  perfection  sing. 

Mystie  world !— Thou  somethfaig  motel 
Wonder  of  th'  Almigfaty's  store  I 
Nature's  depths  we  oft  desery. 
Oft  the^  'f0  pieic'd  by  Lemii^'t  eye  j|. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


830 

Tbou,  if  UMmght  on  tliw  would  ^tia, 
Prov'st  (like  Uewen)  inquiry  vaim 
Cbanns  unequal'd  we  purine  I 
ChanBi  in  shiuiag  throngt  we  view  I 
KumbeHd  then  could  Nature's  be, 
l^ure's  wif  wert  poor  to  tboe. 


AH 

EPISTLB 

TO 

Mm.  OLDFIELD^ 

tV  THB  THBATRB-ROTAt. 

Wvits  to  yonr  ctoms  unequ*]  Tene  I  raite, 
Aw'd,  I  admire,  rad  tremble  as  I  praiee : 
Here  Art  and  Genius  new  reAnement  need^ 
Listening,  tbey  gaase,  and  as  they  gaze,  recede  1 
C^n  Art  or  Genius,  or  tbeir  powers  combined. 
But  from  corporeal  organs,  sketch  the  mind  ? 
When  sound  embody*d  can  with  shape  surprise^ 
The  Muse  may  emulate  your  iroice  and  eyes. 

Mark  rival  arts  perfection's  pobt pursued 
fiech  rivals  each,  hut  to  excel  in  you  1 
^e  bust  and  medal  bear  the  ineaning  facet 
And  the  proud  statue  adds  the  posture's  giaoe ! 
Jmag'd  at  length,  the  bury*d  heroine,  known, 
Still  wems  to  wound,  to  smile,  or  frown  in  atooe ! 
As  art  would  art,  or  metal  stooe  aurpass. 
Her  soul  strikes,  gleaming  through  CorinHiiaQ  brass  1 
Serene,  the  saint  in  smiling  sil^^r  shines, 
And  cherubs  ^reep  in  gold  oNer  sainted  shrines  I 
~lf  long  lost  forms  from  Baphacl's  pencil  glow^ 
VTondrous  in  warmth  the  mimic  colours  flow  ! 
Each  look,  each  aCtitnde,  new  grace  diiiplays  j 
Your  voice  and  motion  life  and  music  raise. 
Hitts  Cleopatra  in  your  charms  refines ; 
She  lives,  she  speidcs,  with  forcu  improved  she  shines ! 
Fair,  and  more  fiur,  you  wery  gimce  transmit; 
Love,  Icanmig,  beauty,  elegance,  and  wit. 
CsBsar,  the  world's  unrivall'd  master,  fir'd. 
In  her  imperial  soul,  his  own  admir'd  ! 
Philippi's  victor  wore  her  winning  chain. 
And  felt  not  empire's  loss  in  beaoty*s  gain. 
Could  tbe^e  heroes  your  bright  influence  know. 
Or  catch  the  silver  accents  as  they  flow,  '  • 
Drawn  from  dark  restliy  ycmr  enchanting  strain, 
Each  AStu^  «rere  hir'd  to  Iffe  and  lore  again.    ' 
Say,  sweet  inspirer !  were  each  annal  known. 
What  tivhig  greatness  «hkies  th^re  not  yonr  own  1 
If  the  griev'd  Muse  by  some  lov'd  empress  rose, 
New  strength,  new  grace,  it  to  your  ioflueMeowes! 
If  power  by  war  distinguish'd  height  revstfk. 
Your  nobler  pride  the  wioonds  of  fortune  4MaIs  1 
Then  could  an  emph«^  cause  demand  yeuroare» 
The  soul,  that  justly  thinks,  would  gfsaily  dare. 

Long  has  feigned  Venos  OKMied  «he  M  use's  pmise. 
You  dart,  dhrine  Ophelia  I  gcauine  rays  1 
Warm  through  those  eyes  enlivwing  raptarasmU  f 
Sweet  through  each  slnliing^Baitnre  iiieBiiisyoug»aguH 
The  soul's  bright  meanings  heighten  beauty's  Anss  j 
Your  looks,  your  thoughts,  yewr  deeds,  «stdi  «bks 
inspires! 
Knowthen,if  raak»dwHh  ■ienirehs,lis  w  jfeii  BlM>d, 
What  Fkte  declines,  you  frxiln  the  MnsedeMMsri  1 
Each  grace  that  shone  of  oM  4n  oskA  JMPid  im. 
Or  in»y  ianfAaiB  iniw  luAiiiUHpt  pm  | 


lATAfiTS  POEMf . 


Whatever  just,  emulative  thonghti  pnrsoe^ 
,  Is  all  contirm*d,  is  all  ador'd  in  you  ! 
If  godlike  bosoms  pant  for  power  to  bless 
If  'tis  a  monarch's  glory  t  >  ledress ; 
In  conscious  majesty  you  shine  serene, 
la  thought  a  heroine,  and  in  act  a  qu 


VERSES 
•ecAsioNEo  ar  KEAnnftf 
MR.  AARON  HtLVS  POF^f, 

CALLED  CIDEOK. 

The  lines  marked  tlius  * '  aro  taken  f  ixMn  Gtdeoav 

Let  other  poets  pooriy  sing 

Their  flatteries  to  the  vulgar  great  f 
Her  airy  flight  let  wandering  Fancy  wing> 

And  rival  Nature's  most  luxuriant  sture. 
To  swell  tome  monster's  pride,  who  shames  a  staAe^ 

Or  form  a  wreath  to  crown  tyrannic  power ! 
Thou,  who  inform'd'st  this  clay  with  active  fire ! 

Bo  thou,  supreme  of  powers !  my  thoughU  i 
And  with  thy  purest  heat  my  soul  mspir^ 

That  with  Hiilarius'  worth  my  verse  meir 

As  thy  lov'd  Gideon  once  set  Israel  free, 

So  he  with  sweet,  seraphic  lays 

*  Redeems  the  use  of  captive  poetry,* 

Which  first  was  form'd  to  speak  thy  glonous  jJiaise! 

Moses,  with  an  enchanting  tongue, 
Pharaoh's  just  overthrow  sublunely  sung  ? 

\^'hen  Saul  and  Jonathan  in  death  were  laid. 
Surviving  David  felt  the  softening  fire ! 

And,  by  the  Great  Almighty's  tuneful  aid, 
Wak'd  into  endless  life  his  mournful  lyre. 
Then*  diflerent  thoughts,  met  in  Hiilarius'  toog^ 
Roll  in  one  channel  more  divinely  strong  I 

With  Pindar's  fire  his  vena's  spirit  £^ 

*  Waited  in  charming  music  through  the  air;* 

Unstopt  by  clouds,  it  reaches  to  the  skies. 
And  joins  with  angels'  hatlehijahs  tbeie. 
Flows  mix'd,  and  sweetly  strikes  th*  Alinighty*s  ear. 

Rebels  should  hlnsh  when  they  his  Gk^eon  see  t 
That  Gideon  bom  to  set  his  Country  free. 

O  that  such  heroes  in  each  age  might  rise, 
Brightenmg  through  vapours  like  the  mormn^-star. 

Generous  to  triumph,  and  in  council  wise  ( 
Gentle  in  peace,  but  terrible  in  war  I 

When  Gideon,  Oreb,  Hyram^  ShimmnehiiM 
Fierce  in  the  blaze  of  war  as  they  engage ! 

Great  hard  !  what  energy,  but  tiune. 
Could  reach  the  vast^esoription  of  Iheirnfe^ 

Or  when,  to  cruel  foes  betray'd, 

Sareph  and  Hamsur  call  for  asd, 
Lost,  and  bewilder'd  m  despair. 

How  piercmg  are  the  hapless  lover's  cries? 

What  tender  Jtrokesin  melting  aiscents  rise  ! 
Oh,  what  a  master-piece  of  pity's  there  ? 

Nor  ^lodlyionh  shows  4hy  msetMBS  less. 
When,  like  kind  Heaven,  he  frees  them  frxxn  distresrf 

Hail  thou,  whose  verse,  a  livmg  image,  shines. 
In  Qidscn^eharacler  your  vtm  you  dmw  I 

Ab  these  tbe.gnoeful  patriot  •hiaes. 
We  in  thaiknge  hr^htiUhurhis  «iew ! 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  QEnmsaii/iK 


9St 


Wlien  in  thy  words  the  hremth  of  angels  floirs, 
like  gnoes-fed  spirits,  sick  in  purer  air. 

Their  earthy  soub  by  their  dull  taste  disclose  1 
Thy  dazzling  genius  shines  too  bright ! 
j^id  they,  like  spectres,  shun  the  streams  of  light 
But  while  in  shades  of  ignurance  they  stray, 
Bound  th^  rays  of  knowledge  play, 
*  And  show  thee  glittering  in  abstracted  day.' 


TO   THE 
RIGHT   H0:«0URABL1 

BESSY,  COUNTESS  OF  ROCHFORD, 

9AITCBTCK   OF  TAB    LATE   EARL   RIVERS,   WHEN    WITH 
CUILO. 

As  when  the  Son  walks  forth  in  flaming  g;o1d. 
Mean  plants  may  smile,  and  humble  flowers  unfold. 
The  low-laid  lark  the  distant  ether  wings. 
And,  as  she  soars,  her  darinjg  anthem  smgs ; 
So,  when  thy  charms  celestial  viewi  create. 
My  smiling  song  surmounts  my  gloomy  £aite. 
Thy  angcl-embryo  prompts  my  towering  lays. 
Claims  my  fond  wish,  and  fires  my  future  praise  : 
May  it,  if  male,  its  grandsire's  image  wear ; 
Or  in  its  moitber's  charms  confess  the  fair ; 
At  the  kind  birth  may  each  mild  planet  wait ; 
Soft  be  the  pain,  but  prove  the  blessing  ^eat 

Hail,  Rivers !  hallow'd  shade !  descend  from  rest  I 
X)escend  and  smile,  to  see  thy  Rochford  blest : 
Weep  not  the  scenes  through  which  my  life  must  run, 
Thuugfa  Fate,  flcet-fuoted,  scents  thy  languid  son. 
The  bar  that,  darkening,  crossed  my  crested  claim. 
Yields  at  her  charms,  and  brightens  in  t>ieir  flame : 
That  blood  which,  honoured,  in  thy  Rochford  reigns, 
In  cold  unwilling  wanderings  trac'd  my  veins. 
Want's  wintery  realm  froze  hard  around  my  view  ; 
And  scorn's  keen  blasts  a  cutting  anguish  blew. 
To  such  sad  weight  my  gathering  griefs  were  wrouglit, 
life  seem'd  not  life,  but  when  convulsed  with  thought ! 
Decreed  bene&th  a  mother's  frown  to  pine, 
Madness  were  ease,  to  misery  form'd  like  mine ! 

Yet  my  Muse  waits  thee  through  the  realms  of  da^^ 
Where  lanabent  fightnings  round  thy  temples  play. 
Sore  my  fierue  wofs  will,  like  those  fires,  refine, 
Tbof  kHe  then:  torture,  and  thus  glorious  shine  I 
And  now  the  Muse  beaven*s  milky  path  surveys. 
With  thee,  twixt  pendent  worlds,  it  wondering  strays. 
Worlds  which,  unnnn^ber'd  as  %iiy  virtues,  roll 
Kotftid  suns — fU*d,  radiant  emblems  of  thy  soul ! 
Ilence  lights  refracted  run  through  distant  skies. 
Changeful  on  azure  plains  in  quivering  dyes  1 
So  thy  mind  darted  through  its  earthy  frame, 
A  wide,  a  various,  and  a  glittering  flame. 

Now  a  new  scene  enormous  lustre  brings, 
Kow  leraphs  diade  thee  round  with  silver  wings; 
In  angel-fbrms  thou  teestthy  Rochford  shine; 
*Ui  each  sweet  fbrm  b  trac'd'her  beanteous  line ! 
finch  was  her  soul,  ere  this  selected  mould 
flprnn^  at  thy  wish,  the  sparkling  life  t'  infold  I 
So  amidst  cherubs  shone  her  son  refhi'd, 
Bre  m&nt-flesh  the  new-form'd  soul  enshrinM  I 
fo  shall  a  sequent  race  from  Rochford  rise, 
Tfteirorid'iiMirprkifl.iidcRceptottof  theilttef. 


VO  THE  EXCEL tEHT' 

MIRANDA, 

ceysoRT  OF  aarwi  uill,  esq, 

ON  RBADixG  nsa  rOEMS. 

Each  softening  charm  of  Clio's  smiling  song, 
Montague's  soul,  wbicli  shines  divinely  strong. 
These  blend,  with  graceful  ease,  to  form  thy  rhyme. 
Tender,  yet  chaste ;  sweet-sounding,  yet  subTimei 
Wisdom  and  wit  have  made  thy  works  their  care. 
Each  pas^on  glows,  refin'd  by  precept,  there : 
To  fair  Miranda's  fbrm  each  grace  is  kind ; 
The  Muses  and  the  Virtues  tune  thy  mii|d^ 


VERSES 

TO  A 

YOUNG  LADY. 

Policy,  from  me,  though  now  a  love-siok  ynotfy. 
Nay,  though  a  poet,  hc«r  the  voice  of  truth ! 
Polly,  you're  not  a  beauty,  yet  you're  pretty ; 
So  grave,  yet  gay ;  so  silly,  yet  so  wHty  ; 
A  heart  of  sofbo^,  yet  a  tongue  of  satire ; 
You  *ve  cruelty,  yet,  ev'n  with  thait,  good  nature  ; 
Now  yon  are  free,  and  now  reserv'd  awhile ; 
Now  a  forc'd  frown  betrays  a  willing  smile. 
Reproach'd  for  absence,  yet  your  sight  denyM ; 
My  tongtie  you  silence,  yet  my  silence  chide. 
How  would  you  praise  me,  should  your  sex  defome ! 
Yet,  should  they  praise,  grow  jealous,  and  ettdaiin. 
If  I  despair,  with  some  kind  kwk  you  bless  j 
But  if  1  hope,  at  once  all  hope  suppress. 
You  scorn ;  yet  should  my  passion  change,  dr  fail. 
Too  late  you'd  whimper  out  a  sofler  tale, 
You  love :  yet  from  your  lover's  wii*i  retire; 
Doubt,  yet  discern ;  deny,  and  3ret  desire. 
Such,  Polly,  are  your  sex—part  truth,  part^ctfeil. 
Some  thought,  much  whim,  and  all  aoootradictiOQ. 


THE 

GENTLEMAN. 

addressed  to 
JOHN  JOUFFE,  Esq. 

A  Deceict  mein,  and  elegance  of  dress. 

Words,  which,  at  ease,  each  whuoing  gtace  exprMt; 

A  life,  where  love,  by  wisdom  poNsb'd,  shines. 

Where  wisdom's  self  again,  by  love,  refines ; 

Where  we  to  chance  fbr  friendship  ne^-er  trust. 

Nor  ever  dread  from  sudden  Whim  disgust ; 

The  social  manners,  and  the  heart  humane  ; 

A  natore  evergreat,  and  never vnin ; 

A  wit,  that  no  licentious  peitness  knows ; 

The  senK,  that  unassummg^  candour  shows  j 

Reason,  by  narrow  principles  uncheek'd, 

Slare  to  no  party,  bigot  to -no  sect; 

Knowledge  of  various  life,  of  leammg  too  ; 

Thence  taste ;  thence  truth,  which  will  f^  latle 

Unwilling  censure,  thongh  a  judgment  df^ar  j 
A  «nie  indnlgevt, -nd  Ih^t  imtte  ttaeofaj 


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An  hnmble,  though  *n  devatpd  mind ; 

A  pride,  its  pleasure  but  to  serve  mankind : 

If  these  esteem  and  admiration  raise ; 

Give  true  delight,  and  gwn  unaattcring  pnuse, 

In  one  wished  view,  th'  accpmplish'd  man  we  sec  j 

These  graces  all  are  thine,  and  thou  art  be. 


CHARACTER 

OF  TBI 

Ret.  JAMES  FOSTER. 
♦    ♦♦♦**♦♦*♦* 


SAVAGE'S  POEMS- 


#  ♦   ♦   ♦ 

♦  *   ♦   ♦ 


TkoM  Codfflt  hear,  ye  ecclesiastic  men, 
nis  pastoral  charge  to  Webrter,  Stebbing,  Ven ; 

AttcwTye  emblems  of  your  P ;'s  mind  ! 

Hark  feith,  mark  hope,  mark  chanty,  defin  d ; 
On  terms,  whence  no  ideas  ye  can  draw. 
Pin  well  your  faith,  and  then  pionounce  it  law ; 
Firtt  wealth,  a  crosier  next,  your  hope  mflame ; 
i;S\]Schircb.power-a  power  o'er  conscience, 

claim) 
In  modes  of  worship  right  of  ^^^!^^//'.    . 
Say.  to  convert,  all  means  are  fajr  j-add,  why  ? 
TiB  charitable-let  your  power  decree, 
•Iliitpersecution  then  is  chanty; 
Call  i^son  errour ;  forms,  not  thmgs,  display  ; 
Let  moral  doctrine  to  abstnise  give  way ; 
Sink  demonstration  j  mystery  preach  alone ; 
Be  thus  religion's  friend,  and  thus  your  own. 
"      But  Foster  well  this  honest  truOi  extends— 
Where  mystery  begins,  religion  ends. 
In  him,  g«at  modem  miracle !  we  s^ 
A  priest,  from  avarice  and  ambition  tree ; 
One  whom  no  peneciitine  «P»"\fi^i.      .^ 
Whose  heart  and  tongue  benevolence  mspircf 
rcaiTiM,  not  assuming  5  eloquent,  y^  plam; 
Meek,  though  not  timorous;  consaous,  though  not 

vain;  . 

Without  craft,  reverend  5  holy,  without  cant ; 
Zealous  for  truth,  without  enthusiast  rant 
His  foith,  where  no  credulity  »  •««>, 
•rwixt  inddel  and  bigot.  »»As  the  mean , 
His  hope,  no  mitre  nulitant  on  Earth,  [^orto. 

iris  that  bright  crown,  which  Hea^  reserves  for 
A  priest,  in  charity  with  all  mankind. 
His  love  to  virtue,  not  to  sect  contin  d : 
Tnith  his  delight  5  from  bim  It  ^^^J^^f 
From  him.  who  feaf s  no  bemg,  but  his  Clod. 
i„Tm  ft^  Christi«i.  mona  light  «in  shme  5 
Not  mad  with  mystery,  but  a  sound  dmne  ; 
He  ^ns  the  wise  and  good,  with  reason's  lore  ; 

Then  sinkes  their  passions  J^'^h  p^h<^  power  ; 
Where  vice  erects  her  head,  rebukes  the  page  j  , 

Mix'd  with  rebuke,  P«~"*r^  *^*»''™f^^L*At 
Charms,  which  th'  untbinkmg  must  to  thought 

cxdtc;  ^  

T/>  I  vice  less  vickms  1  virtue  morenpngfet . 
5^m  copy,  Codex»  that  the  good  a^  wise, 
wS)»  abhor  thy  heart,  and  head  despis^ 
S^  «e  thee  mi.  though  Ute,  redeem  thy  name. 


^  «lon«y  what  else  is  damnM  to  fiune. 

But  should  some  churchman,  apeing  wit  1 
♦,^poet'i|iifetam'dbs^'-«3r,«l 


Shame  on  that  narrow  mind  so  oflen  knows. 
Which  in  one  mode  of  faith,  owns  worth  alone. 
Sneer  on,  rail,  wrangle  I  nought  this  truth  repcia— 
Virtue  is  virtue,  wheresoe'er  she  dwells ; 
And  sure,  where  learning  gives  her  light  to  shin^ 
Her's  is  all  praise — if  her*s,  'tis  Foster,  thine. 
Thee  boast  dissenters ;  we  with  pride  may  ow« 
Our  TiUotson  i  and  Rome,  her  FeoekM  V 


THE 

POETS  DEPEKDjyCE 

OK  A 

STATESMAN. 

.Some  seem  to  hint,  and  other*  proof  will  bringv 
That,  from  neglect,  my  numerous  hardships  spriHir* 
**  Seek  the  great  roan '"  they  cry — *t»  then  de- 
In  him,  if  I  court  fortune,  I  succeed.  [creAl, 

What  friends  to  second  ?  who  for  me  shouki  aoe* 
Have  interests,  partial  to  themselves,  in  view^ 
They  own  my  matchless  fotc  compassion  draws  ; 
They  all  with  well,  lament,  but  drap  my  cause. 
Ttiere  are  who  ask  no  pension,  want  no  place. 
No  title  wish,  and  would  accept  no  grace. 
Can  I  entreat,  they  should  for  me  obtain 
The  least,  who  grteatest  for  themselves  disdam  ? 
A  statesman,  knowing  this,  unkind,  will  cry, 

"  Those  love  him :    let  those  serve  him  t— why 
should  I  ?» 
Say,  shall  I  turn  where  Incrc  pomts  my  vicwi  5 

At  first  desert  my  friends,  at  length  abuse  ? 

But,  on  less  terms,  in  promise  he  complies  s 

Years  bury  years,  and  hopes  on  hopes  arise  ? 

I  trust,  am  trusted  on  my  fairy  gain ; 

And  woes  on  woes  attend,  an  endless  train. 
Be  posts  dispos'd  at  will !— I  have,  for  these. 

No  gold  to  plead,  no  impudence  to  tease. 

All  gecT«t  service  from  my  soul  I  hate ; 

All  dark  intrigues  of  pleasure,  or  of  slate. 

I  have  no  power,  election- votes  to  gam : 

No  will  to  hackney  out  polemic  stram ; 

To  shape,  as  time  shall  •  rve,  my  verse,  or  ^^  . 

To  flatter  thence,  nor  slur,  a  ooiirtier*8focs  j 

Nor  him  to  daub  with  praise,  if  I  prt^viijl  5 

Nor  shock'd  by  him  with  libels  to  assail. 

Where  these  are  not,  what  claim  to  me  belongs  ? 

Though  mine  the  Muse  and  virtue.birth  and  wrongly 
Where  lives  the  statesmanr  »  in  honour  clear. 

To  give  where  he  has  nought  to  ^pe,  nor  fear  ? 

No !— there  to  seeW,  is  but  to  find  fresh  pain : 

The  promise  broke,  renewed,  and  broke  again; 

To  be,  as  humour  deigns,  rpceiVd,  refns'd  j 

By  turns  affironted,  and  by  turns  amns'd ; 

lb  lose  that  time,  which  worthier  thoughts  require; 

To  lose  the  health,  which  should  those  tbougblK 
inspire  s 

1  In  this  character  of  the  rev.  James  Poster 
truth  guided  the  pen  of  the  muse.  Mr  Pope  paid 
a  tribute  to  the  modest  worth  of  this  excelkait  maa  J 
little  did  he  imagine  his  rev.  Annotator  wookl  m- 
dea;vour  to  convert  his  praise  into  abuse.  The  cfc»- 
racter  and  writings  of  Foster  will  be  admifed  and 
read,  when  the  works  of  the  bitter  ooptiovrnitfit^ 
are  foiy«tt(EiL    £• 


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IX)  MISS  M  .  .  .  h  . 

T6  sUrve  and  hope;  or,  like  cameriom,  fere 
Od  ministerial  feitb,  which  means  bui  air. 

Bat  still,  unclrooping,  I  the  crew  disdain, 
"Who,  or  by  jobs,  or  libels,  wcaUh  obtain. 
meet  let  me  be.  through  those,  from  want  exempt ; 
In  one  man's  favour,  in  the  world's  contempt : 
l¥0T«e  in  my  own  1— through  those,  to  posts  who 

rise. 
Themselves,  in  secret,  must  themselves  despise ; 
Vile,  and  more  vile,  till  they,  at  length,  disclaim 
Kot  sense  alone  of  glory,  but  of  shame. 
.  What  though  1  hourly  see  the  servile  herd. 

For  meanness  honoured,  and  for  guilt  prefcr'd; 

S^  $elfish  psissiop,  public  virtue  seem  ; 

And  public  virtue  an  enthusiast  dream ; 

See  favoured  felsehood,  innocence  belied. 

Meekness  depressed,  and  power-elated  pride ; 

A  scene  will  show,  all-righteous  vision,  haste  j 

The  meek  exalted,  and  the  proud  debased  I— » 

Oh,  to  be  there !— to  tread  that  friendly  shore^ 

Where  felsehood,  pride,  and  statesmen  are  no  more  I 
But  ere  indulged— ere  Fate  my  breath  shall  claim, 

A  poet  still  IB  anxious  after  feme. 

What  fiitnre  feme  would  my  ambition  crave? 

This  were  my  wish— could  ought  my  meinpry  save, 

Say,  when  in  death  my  sorrows  lie  repos'd. 

That  my  past  life  no  venal  view  di8clo5*d; 

Say,  I  well  knew,  while  in  a  sUte  obscure. 

Without  the  being  base,  the  being  poor; 

Smy,  I  bad  parts,  too  moderate  to  transcend: 

Yet  sense  to  mean,  and  virtue  not  t'  offend ; 

My  heart  supplying  what  my  heiad  denied. 
Say  that,  by  Vof*e  esteemM  1  liv'd  and  died ; 

Whose  writings  the  best  roles  to  write  could  give  j 

Wbosa  life«  the  nobler  science,  how  to  live. 


45i 


Young,  fickle,  feir,  a  levity  inbom« 

To  treat  all  sighhig  slaves  with  fli|^nt  soom  ; 

An  eye,  expressive  of  a  wandering  mind : 

Nor  this  to  read,  nor  that  to  think  inclin'd ; 

Or  when  a  book,  or  thought,  from  whim  retaidtf 

Intent  on  songs  or  novels,  dress  or  cards  ; 

CSioice  to  select  the  party  of  detight. 

To  kill  time,  thought,  and  feme,  in  frolic  flight; 

To  flutter  here,  to  flurry  there  on  wing  j 

To  talk,  to  tease,  to  simper,  or  to  sing ; 

To  prude  it,  to  coquet  it — him  to  trust, 

Wliefte  vain,  loose  life,  should  caution  or  disgnst  | 

Him  to  dislike,  whose  modest  worth  should  please.-^ 

Say,  is  your  picture  shown  in  tints  like  these  } 

Your^ !  —you  deny  it — Hear  the  poiut  then  tried, 

T^et  judgment,  truth,  the  Muse,  and  k)ve  decide; 

What  your's ! — ^Nay,  feirest  trifler,  frown  not  so  : 

Is  it  ?  the  Muse  with  doubt — Love  answers,  no : 

You  smile — Is*t  not }  Again  the  question  try  !— 

Yes,  judgment  thinks,  and  truth  will  yes,  reply. 


ro 


MISS  M  . 


H  , 


AW 

JEPISTLE 

TO 

DAMON  AND  DEUA 

HsAR  Damon,  Delia  bear,  in  candid  lays> 
Truth  without  anger,  without  flattery,  praise  I 

A  bookish  mind,  with  pedantry  unfraught. 
Oft  a  sedate,  vet  never  gloomy  thought : 
Prompt  to  rejoice,  when  others  pleasure  know. 
And  prompt  to  feel  the  pang  for  others  woe; 
To  soften  bnlts,  to  which  a  foe  is  prone. 
And,  in  a  friend's  perfection,  prase  your  own: 
A  will  sracerc,  unknown  to  selfish  views ; 
A  heart  of  love,  of  gallantry  a  Muse; 
A  delicate,  yet  not  a  jealous  mind ; 
A  passion  ever  fond,  yet  never  bliiMi, 
Okiwing  with  anaorous,  yet  with  guUtless  fint, 
Jn  ever-eager,  never  gross  desires : 
A  modert  honour,  sacred  to  contain 
Yrom  taiiXragi  vanity,  when  smiles  yon  gain  $ 
Coutant,  most  pleaaM'when  beauty  most  yoii 

please: 
filtiiKKi  I  your  pi<;t|ife>  shown  in  tmts  like  these. 

&y»  Delia  1  mnst  I  cbide.yon  or  cornmeod  ? 
flRf/ora^  I  be  jonr  flatterer  or  yqur  frieod? 

To  ^nte  ao  graces  in  a  rival  feir, 
Kor  yiwt  own  foibles  in  a  kister  spare ; 
Each  tovfer's  billet,  b^ititering,  to  reveal, 
AoA  ante  kMnm  iwft  M^iit  to  OQOCfali 


SENT  wrra 
Ma.  POPE'S  WORKS. 

Sex  female  vice  and  female  folly  here, 

Ri^llied  with  wit  polite;  or  lash'd  severe : 

Let  Pope  present  such  objects  to  our  view  j 

Such  are,  my  feir,  the  full  reverse  of  you. 

Rapt  when,  to  Loddon*s  stream  i  from  Windsoc'a 

shades. 
He  sings  the  modest  charms  of  sylvan  maids  ; 
Dter  Burford's  hills  in  memory's  eye  appear. 
And  Luddal's  spring  ^  still  murmurs  hi  my  ear: 
But  when  you  cease  to  bless  my  longing  eyes. 
Dumb  Is  the  spring,  the  joyless  prospect  dies : 
Come  then,  my  channer,  come!  here  tranqpoit 

reigns ! 
New  health,  new  youth,  inspirits  all  my  vens. 
Each  hour  let  interQOurse  of  hearts  employ. 
Thou  life  of  loveliness!  thou  soul  of  joy  I 
Love  wakes  the  birdi»— oh,  hear  each  melting  lay  I 
Love  warms  the  world— ^come  charmer,  come  away  I 
But  hark ! — immortal  Pope  resumes  the  lyre  t 
Diviner  airs,  diviner  flights,  inspire : 
Hark  where  an  angel's  language  times  the  line  ! 
See  where  the  thoughts  and  looks  of  angels  shine  I 
Here  he  p»)ur'd  all  the  music  of  your  tongue. 
And  all  your  looks  and  thoughts,  unconscious,  tun|^ 


ON  Till  aicovfciT  or 
A  LADYOF-SUAUTT 
JJIOM  THE  SMAIX  KWC 

Lqko  a  \6^d  feir  had  blefls>d  her  eottsort't  a^ 
WHh  amoroua  pride,  and  Uodistiirb'd  delight; 
Till  Death,  grown  enVious  with  repugnant  aim, 
AoWD^d  at  diehrjoys,  and  nig^d  a  tyrant*!  cfeiiii. 

}  Alhidifif  tDtftebeautifiit  ^pfinde  of  Loddi^ 
mWfaidaorFcjrect.-  ^ 


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9^ 


SAVAGE'S  PO£M^ 


He  sammona  etch  dusesie  f-~t3^  nonous  crev. 
Writhing,  in  dire  distortions,  strike  bik  view  I 
Prom'  various  plagues,  which  various  natures  know, 
Forth  rushes  l>eauty*8  feaHd  and  fervent  foe. 
Fierce  to  the  fair,  the  misiile  mischief  flies. 
The  8ang;uine  streams  in  raging  fennients  rise  ! 
It  drives,  ignipotent,  through  every  vein, 
Hangs  on  the  heart,  and  bums  aronnd  the  brain  ! 
Now  a  chill  damp  the  charmer's  lustre  dims  1 
Sad  o*er  b^  eyes  the  livid  languor  swims! 
Her  e3^es,  that  with  a  glance  oould  joy  in^|Mre, 
Like  setting  stars,  scarce  shoot  a  glimmering  lire. 
.    Here  stands  her  consort,  sore,  with  anguish,  prest. 
Grief  in  his  eye,  and  ierrour  in  his  breast 
The  Paphian  Graces,  smit  with  anxious  care. 
In  silent  sorrow  weep  the  waining  foin 
Eight  suns,  soccessire,  roll  their  fire  away, 
Ai^  eight  slow  nights  see  their  deep  shades  decay. 
While  these  revolve,  though  mute  each   Muse 

appears, 
£ach  speaking  eye  drrjps  eloquence  in  tears. 
On  the  ninth  noon,  great  Phosbus,  listenmg  bends  I 
On  the  ninth  noon,'each  voice  in  prayerascends  I— 
Great  God  of  light,  of  song,  and  phync*s  art, 
Kestore  the  languid  fair,  new  soul  nnpart  1 
Her  beauty,  wit,  and  virtue,  clakn  thy  care, 
And  thine  own  bounty's  almost  rival'd  there. 
Each -paus'd.  The  god  assents.  Would  Death  ad- 
vance? 
Phflcbus,  unseen,  arresto  the  threatening  laooe  I 
Down  horn  his  orb  a  vivid  influence  streams,^ 
And  quickening  earth  imbibes  salubrious  beams  ; 
Each  balmy  plant,  increase  of  virtue  knows. 
And  art,  inspir'^,  with  all  her  patron,  glows. 
*^he  charmer's  openhig-eye,  kind  hope,  reveals. 
Kind  hope,  her  consort's  breast  enlivening  feels. 
Each  grace  revives,  each  Muse  resumes  ^'lyre. 
Each  beauty  brightens  with  re-Iumin'd  fire. 
As  health's  auspicious  powers  gay  life  display. 
Death,  sullen  at  the  si^t,  stalks  slow  away. 


FRIEND, 

AH 


AARON  HILL  Ek|. 

O  My  lov'd  Hill,  O  then  by  Heaven  designed 
'  To  charm,  to  mcqpd,  and  to  adorn  mankhid  f 
'To  thee  my  hopes,  fears,  joys,  and  sorrows  tend. 
Thou  brother.  Cither,  nearer  yet !— thou  fnead  I 

If  woildly  friendshipB  oft  cement,  divide. 
As  interests  v^,  or  at  whims  preside; 
If  leagues  of  hnorr  borrow  frtendship's  light, 
Or  leagnes  fu^veiitie  of  all  aocial  r^: 
O  say,  my  Hill,  in  what  ptepi^ons  qihere, 
Gain  we  the  fdodd,  pure,  knowing,  and  siooert? 
Tts  wbero  the  worthy  aod  the  wite  retiros 
There  wealth  may  learn  its  use,  majr  kr>w  'mfi^i 
Tbe^  may  jroung  worth,  the  noblert  end  obtam. 
In  want  may  friende,in  fiiendfl  may  knowledM  §^ 
In  knowledge  bliss ;  Ibr  wisdoni  virtue  fbfi. 
And  J^rifhtfosiiMNrtsl  to  imiDocUl  mia^ 
^bd  tiben  my  wrongs,  if  k>ve,  like  yours,  I99p9id| 
Idryoa,  like  Tirtne,  »rc  ji^j^ffiwl  iftdf^ 


Oft  when  yon  saw  my  3r0QtIi  iHId  cntMt  knov^ 
Reproof,  soft-hioted,  taught  the  blush  to  glow. 
Young  and  unfbrm'd,  you  first  my  genhis  rais*d. 
Just  smiTd  when  faulty,  and  when  moderate  prab'd* 
Me  shon'd,  me  ruin*d,  suqh  a  mother's  rage  ! 
.You  sung,  till  pity  wept  o'er  every  page. 
You  caird  my  la3rs  and  wrongs  to  early  fame; 
Yet,  yet,  th*  obdurate  mother  felt  no  shame. 
Pierc'd  as  1  was  !  yonr  counsel  soften'd  care. 
To  ease  tum'd  anguish,  and  to  hope  despair. 
The  man  who  never  wound  aiHictive  feels. 
He  never  felt  the  balmy  worth  that  heals. 
Welcome  the  wound,  when  blest  with  such  relief  I 
For  deep  is  felt  th^  friend,  when  felt  in  gr-  t. 

From  you  shall  never,  but  with  life,  remove 
Aspiring  genius,  condescendmg  love. 
When  some,  with  cold,  superior  looks,  redress. 
Relief  seems  insult,  and  confirms  distress ; 
You,  when  you  view  the  man  with  wrongs  hesie^d^ 
While  warm  you  act  th'  obliger,  seem  th'  oblig'd. 

All-winning  mild  to  each  o(  lowly  state  ; 
To  equals  finee,  unscrvile  to  the  great; 
Greatness  yon  honour,  when  by  worth  acqnir'd  ; 
Worth  is  by  worth  in  every  rank  admir'd. 
Greatness  you  scorn,  when  titles  insult  speak ; 
Prood  to  vain  pride,  to  honoured  meekness  meek. 
Thatworthleu  bliss,  which  others  court,  you  fly; 
That  worthy  woe,  they  shun,  attracts  your  eve. 

But  shall  the  Muse  resound  alone  your  praise  | 
No— let  the  public  fr  end  exalt  her  lays ! 
O  trace  that  friend  with  me  '.—he's  yours !— he^s 

mine!— 
The  world's — beneficent  behold  him  shine ! 

Is  wealth  his  sphere  ?     If  riches,  Tike  a  tide. 
Prom  either  India  pour  their  golden  pride; 
Rich  in  good  works,  him  others  wants  employ  | 
He  gives  the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy. 
To  orphans,  prisoners,  shall  his  bounty  flow  | 
The  weeping  fiunily  of  want  and  woe. 

Is  kncwledge  his  ?  Benevolently  great. 
In  leisure  active,  and  in  care  sedate  ; 
What  aid,  his  little  wealth  perchance  denies^ 
In  each  hard  instance  his  advice  supplies. 
With  modest  truth  he  sets  the  wandering  rights 
And  gives  religion  pure,  primeval  light; 
In  love  diflTusive,  as  in  light  refin'd. 
The  liberal  emblem  of  his  Maker's  mind. 

Is  power  his  ocb  ?  He  then,  like  power  ditine. 
On  all*,  though  with  a  varied  ray,  will  shine. 
Ere  power  was  his,  the  man  he  once  carcss'd^ 
Meets  the  same  faithful  smile,  and  mutual  breasts 
But  asks  his  friend  some  dignity  of  state ; 
His  friend,  unequal  to  th'. incumbent  weight? 
Asks  it  a  stranger,  one  whom  parts  inspire 
With  all  a  pe(»ple's  welfare  would  require  } 
His  chokre  admits  no  pause ;  his  gift  will  prove 
All  private,  well  absorb'd  in  public  love. 
He  shieMs  his  country,  when  for  aid  she  calls; 
Or,  shonkl  she  flill,  with  her  he  greatly  falls : 
But,  as  pnmd  Rome,  with  guilty  conquest  crown'd^ 
^reed  uavery,  death  and  desolation  round, 
9ionld  e'er  his  country,  for  dominion's  priie, 
AifJnst  the  sons  of  men  a  fectiop  rise, 
6R)fy  inhers,  is  iniiis  eyedisgrace; 
The  friend  of  troth;  the  friend  of  humqn_raoe^ 

Thus  to  00  one,  no  seet,  no  clime  coiifti'd^' 
His  boon^ess  love  embraces  all  mankind'; 
And  all  theirvirtues  iijk  his  Tife  are  known; 
And  aU  UMir  jq^  j|ii4  tftf^yn  art  HH  vfu^ 


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TO  Mll.DYBIt 


:W5 


fhtie  9fe  ^  li^Htit,  wkera  Mands,  tiiat  friend 
coofisst  J 
Thif,  tKw  the  spmt,  which  informs  thy  breast 
Thifiagh  ftirtiroe*9cloiid  thy  genuine  worth  can  ^ine  ; 
What  woaid*st  thou  not,  wert  wealth  and  greataeis 
? 


AN 

EPISTLE 

TO 

J/r.  JOHN  DYER^ 

AUTHOR   or   GtONGAB-BILt« 

In  Answer  to  his  from  the  Country  *• 

Mow  Tarious  birds  in  melting  concert  sing, 
.And  hail  the  beauty  of  the  openiog  Spring  ; 
Now  to  thy  dreanif  the  nightingale  complains. 
Till  the  lark  wakes  thee  with  her  cheerful  strains; 
Wakes,  in  thy  verse  and  friendship  ever  kind, 
Melodiotis  comfort  to  my  jarring  mind. 

Oh,eould  my  soul  throngh  depths  of  knowledge  see, 
Could  I  read  Nature  and  mankind  like  thee, 
I  should  overcome,  or  bear  the  shocks  of  fate^ 
And  e*en  draw  envy  to  the  humblest  state. 
Thou  canst  rabe  honour  from  each  ill  e\'enk, 
praoi  ihoeki  gam  vigour,  and  from  want  content 

Think  not  li^t  poetry  my  life's  chief  care ! 
The  Muse*8  mansion  is,  at  best,  but  air ; 
But,  if  more  solid  works  my  meaning  forms, 
Th'  m)6nisb'd  stroctures  fiUl  by  fortune's  storms. 
"Oft  have  I  said  we  falsely  those  accuse. 
Whose  god-Kke  souls  life's  middle  state  refuse. 
Self-love,  I  ory*d,  there  seeks  ignoble  res^$ 
Care  Sleeps  not  oalm,  when  millions  wake  unbtest ; 
Mean  let  me  shrink,  or  spread  sweet  shade  o'er  all. 
Low  as  the  shrub,  or  as  the  cedar  tall ! — 
*Twas  vain  ^twas  wild ! —  I  sought  the  middle  state, 
^And  fsoad  the  |;ood,  and  found  the  truly  great 

Though  vefie  can  never  give  my  soul  her  aim  ; 
Though  a^on  only  claims  substantial  feme ; 
though  fete  denies  what  my  proud  wants  require, 
Yet  grant  me.  Heaven,  by  knowledge  to  aspire : 
Thus  to  inquiry  let  me  prompt  the  mind ; 
Thus  clear  «limm'd  truth,  and  bid  her  bless  mankind ; 
Prom  the  pterc'd  orphan  thns  draw  shafts  of  grief ! 
Arm  want  with  patienee,  and  teach  wealth  relief  ! 
Ta  serve  lov'd  liberty  insptre  my  breath  \ 
Or,  if  my  life  be  useless,  giant  me  death; 
Por  he,  who  useless  is  in  Kfe  survey'd. 
Burthens  that  world,  his  duty  bids  bim  aid. 

Say,  whet  have  honours  to  allure  the  mind, 
Whi<!h  he  gains  SMst,  wha  least  has  serv'd  mankind ; 
Titles,  when  worn  by  feels,  f  dare  despise; 
"YeS  they  oiakn  hom99S»  when  they  crawn  the  wise. 
When  twgh  di^ioctioe  wsarki  deserving  heirs, 
;  Dascit  still  dignifies  ihe  wark  it  wears. 
But,  who  to  bifth  alone  would  hanonrs  mn} 
JJtm\m,  if  true,  fmm  seeds  of  merit  gfawr 
Thase  traas  withswaetest  ehams  mvite  our-eyes. 
Which,  from  onrownennralkDent  fenilluldMa. 
itlU  we  kyvB  bsst  ishaS  ve  with  labour  gam, 
•  (Aatht^Mki's  ^oamibrtha  mother's  pMB. 

*  Sat  Dytf^i  Poens. 


I     Thegrsatlwnuldttotenfyiiord^e; 
Xor  stoop  to  swell  a  vain  superior's  pride  ; 
Nor.  view  an  equal's  hope  with  jeabus  eyes  ; 
Kor  crush  the  wretch  beneath  who  wailing  lies^ 
My  sympathizing  breast  his  grief  can  feel. 
And  my  eye  weep  the  wound  I  cannot  heat 
Ne'er  among  friendships  let  me  sow  debate^ 
Nor  by  another's  fell  advance  my  state  ; 
Nor  misuse  wit  against  an  absent  friend  2 
Let  nie  the  virtues  of  a  foe  defend ! 
In  wealth  and  want  true  minds  preserve  their  weights 
Meek,  though  exalted ;  though  disgrac'd,  elate : 
Generous  and  grateful,  wrong'd  or  help'd  they  live  j 
Gratefol  to  serve,  and  generous  to  forgive. 

Thb  may  they  learn,  who  close  thy  life  attend  i 
Which  dear,  in  memory,  still  instructs  thy  friend. 
Though  cruel  distance  bars  my  grosser  eye. 
My  soul,  clear  sighted,  draws  thy  virtue  nigh ; 
Thro'  her  deep  woe  that  quickening  comfort  gleams^ 
And  li|^  up  fortitude  with  firiendship's  beams» 


VERSES 

OCCASIONED  BY  THS 

Tice-PtiKciPAL  OP  St.  BiUar-HAit,  Oxvatp^ 

SEIKO  PIBSEMTBl)  ST  TRB  HONOURABLE  MES.  XNI0B7«  . 
TO  THE  LIVING  OF  GODSPIBLO  IN  ESSEZi 

Whiib  by  mean  arts  and  meaner  patrons  rise 
Priests,  whom  the  learned  and  the  good  des{^  ; 
This  sees  feir  Rmght,  in  whose  transcendent  mind^ 
Are  wisdom,  purity,  and  truth  enshrin'd. 
A  modest  merit  now  she  plans  to  lift. 
Thy  living,  Godsfield  1  feUs  her  instant  gift. 
"  Let  me"  (she  said)  **  reward  alone  the  wis^ 
And  make  the  church-revenue  Virtue's  prize. 

She  sought  the  maa  of  honest,  candid  breast^ 
In  feith,  in  works  of  goodness,  full  exprest ; 
Though  young,  yet  tutoring  academic  youth 
To  science  moral,  and  religious  truth. 
She  sought  where  the  disinterested  friend. 
The  scholar,  sage,  and  free  compankm  blend  ; 
The  pleasing  poet,  and  the  deep  divine. 
She  sought,  she  found,  and,  Hart  r  the  prise  was  thiae^ 


FULVIA: 

A   POBM. 

Let  Fulvia's  wisdom  be  a  slave  to  will. 

Her  darling  passions,  scandal  and  quadrille; 

On  friends  and  foes  her  tongue  a  tethre  known. 

Her  deeds  a  satire  on  herself  alone. 

On'her  poor  kindred  deigns  she  word  or  look  } 

Tis  cold  respect,  or  'tis  unjust  rebuke  ; 

Worse  when  goodsMtmM,  tbsm  when  most  sevare : 

The  jest  imj^re  then  pains  the  modest  ear. 

How  just  the  sceptic  !  the  divroe  how  odd  f 

What  turns  of-int  play  unuUfim  her  God ! 

The  F^tes,  my  qaarest  kindred,  foes  decree: 
FaVfini  wbanf>iqn'd  at  tl^em,  straight pifcjes.Qi^ 
She,  like  famavnlenoe,  f.  smile  bestows, 
Favours  tn  me  indulge  her  spleen  to  those. 
The  banquet  serv'd,  with  peeresses  I  sit ; 
Sh«  ttHh  my  story^  and  ftpjBa^fliji  iriW./ .  ^ 
With  nyititk  dislaste4tte«|g|  Jif  sqmA^MM^ 
It  comes,  now  homelhMss  ipore  homely  gran. 


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336 


SAVAGE'S  T0EM9. 


With  Bee-««,w  tomids,  and  noofenie  not  my  own, 
Bhe  skrews  her  features,  and  she  cracks  her  tone. 
**  How  fine  your  Bastard  (  why  so  soft  a  strain  ? 
What  such  a  mother  ?  satirise  again  !" 

Oft  I  object— but  fix'd  is  FuWia's  will— 
Ah !  though  unkhid,  she  is  my  mother  still ! 

The  verse  now  flows,  the  manuscript  she  claims. 
Tis  iam'd — ^The  fame,  each  curidns  fiur  inflames  : 
The  wiki-flre  runs ;  from  copy,  copy  grows : 
The  Brets,  alarmed,  a  separate  peace  propose. 
^18  ratified— How  altered  Fulvia's  look ! 
My  wit's  degraded,  and  my  cause  forsook. 
*fhus  she :  "  What*8  poetry  but  to  amuse  ? 
Might  I  advise^there  are  more  solid  views. *• 
With  a  cool  air  she  adds :  ''This  tale  is  old : 
Were  it  my  case,  it  should  no  more  be  told. 
Complaints — had  I  been  worthy  to  advise — 
You  know — But  when  are  wits,  like  women,  wise  ? 
True  it  may  take  ;  bnt,  think  whate»€r  you  list. 
All  love  the  satire,  none  the  satirist.^ 

I  start,  I  stare,  stand  fix*d,  then  pause  awhile  ; 
Then  hesitate,  then  ponder  well,  then  smile. 
**  Madam-*a  pension  lost— and  whereas  amends  P' 
**Sir*'(sbe  repUes)  "indee<l  you'll  lose  your  friends." 
Why  did  1  start?  'twas  but  a  change  of  wind— 
Or  the  same  thing^-the  lady  changed  her  mind. 
1  bow,  depart,  despise,  discern  her  all : 
Kanny  revisits,  and  disgracM  I  ^1. 

Let  Fulvia's  friendship  whirl  with  every  whim  I 
A  reed,  a  weather-cock,  a  shade,  a  dfeam : 
No  more  the  friendship  shall  be  now  display'd 
By  weather-cock,  or  reed,  or  dream,  or  shade ; 
To  Nanny  fix'd  unvarying  shall  it  tend. 
For  iouls,  so  formed  alike,  were  fonn'd  to  blend. 


EPITAPH 

OH   A 

YOUNG  LAITY. 

Closed  are  those  eyes,  that  beani*d  aeiaphic  foe  ; 
Cold  it  that  breast,  which  gave  the  workl  desire : 
Mute  is  the  voice  where  wmning  softness  warm*d. 
Where  music  melted,  and  where  wisdoqi  chafm'd. 
And  lively  wit,  which,  decently  confined , 
No  prude  e'er  thought  impure,  no  friend  unkmd. 
Cookl  modest  knowledge,  foir  nntrifling  youth, 
Fermasive  re«nn  and  endearing  truth, 
Could  Koooor,  shown  m  friendships  Bsost  refln'd. 
And  tense,  that  shields  th'attempted  virtnous  mind : 
The  social  iepiper  never  known  to  strife. 
The  heighteniog  graces  that  embellish  life ; 
OniM  thess  have  e'er  the  darts  of  Death  defied, 
Kever.ahf  never  had  Melinda  died ; 
Wor  can  the  die— ev'n  now  survives  her  name, 
Jnmortattz'd  by  friendship,  love,  and  fiune. 


GEmVS  OF  LIBERTY 
A  POEM. 

dCCAtlOXIB  BV  THI  DEPAaTVmt  OP  ^B  FtlMCB 
AKD   PBIMCESS  OF  OEAMOB. 

(Written  in  the  year  1734.) 

Mit»fOMfliblfioml  thefaceofNatnrtbri^t 
W^  OK  «KteBiiv«inilt  of  calai  and  light; 


Wide,  o^er  the  land,  did  horeriog  tilenee  rrjjnj 

Wide  o'er  the  blue  diffusion  of  the  main  ; 

Whenk>I  before  me,  on  the  southern  tlm. 

Stood  forth  the  power,  whom  Albioit's  sons  adore; 

Blest  Liberty  I  whose  charge  is  Albion's  isle  ; 

Whom  reason  gives  to  bloom,  and  truth  to  smile  » 

Gives  peace  to  gladden,  sheltering  law  to  spread, 

licaming  to  lift  aloft  her  laureled  head, 

Rich  hidustry  to  view,  with  pleasing  eyes. 

Her  fleets,  her  cities,  and  her  harvests  rise. 

In  curious  emblems  every  art,  exprest, 

Glow'd  firom  the  loom,  aivi  brighten'd  on  his  veaL 

Science  in  various  Ughts  attention  won, 

Wav'don  his  robe,  and  glitter'd  in  the  Sun.  [date  9 

"  My  words,"  he  cried,   "  my  words  obaerranot 
Resound,  ye  Muses ;  and  receive  them.  Fame  1 
Here  was  my  station,  when,  o'er  oirean  wide^ 
The  great,  third  William,  stretched  his  naval  pride : 
1  with  my  sacred  influence  swell'd  his  soul  ; 
Th'  ensUv*d  to  firee,  th'  enslaver  to  control. 
In  vain  did  waves  disperse,  and  winds  detain  s 
He  came,  he  sav'd  ;  m  his  was  seen  my  reign. 
How  just,  how  great,  the  plan  his  soul  design*d. 
To  humble  tyrants,  and  secure  mankhid ! 
NextjMarlborough  in  his  steps  successful  trod : 
This  godlike  plaun'd ;  that,  finish'd  like  a  god  I 
And,  while  Oppression  fled  to  realms  unluown, 
Europe  was  free,  and  Britain  glorious  shone, 

"Where  Nassau's  race  extensive  growth  display  *d. 
There  freedom  ever  found  a  sbeltering  shade. 
Still  Heaven  is  kind  I— See,  from  th*  princely  root, 
Millrons  to  bless,  the  branch  auspicious  shoot  I 
He  lives,  he  flourishes,  his  hcMOors  spread  ; 
Fair  virtnes  blooming  on  his  youthfiil  head  : 
Vinwt  him,  ye  heavenly  dews,  ye  sunny  rays. 
Into  firm  health,  fkir  feme,  and  length  of  days !" 

He  pansM,  and  castmg  o^er  the  £ep  hit  eye. 
Where  the  Ust  billow  swells  into  the  sky. 
Where,  in  gay  viioon,  round  th'  horisoo's  fine , 
The  movhig  doods  with  various  beauty  shme ; 
As  dropping  from  their  bosom,  ting'd  ifith  gold. 
Shoots  forth  a  sail,  amusive  to  beho^  f 
Lo !  while  its  light  the  glowing  wave  returns. 
Broad  like  a  sun  the  barit  approactiing  bums* 
Near,  and  more  near,  great  Nassau  soon  he  spy'd. 
And  beauteous  Anna,  Britain's  eldest  pride ! 
Thu^  spoke  the  Genius,  as  advanc*d  the  tnil.*- 
'<Hail,  blooming  hero!  high-bom  princess,  hail ! 
Thy  charms  thy  mother's  love  of  troth  display. 
Her  light  of  virtue,  and  her  beauty's  ray  j 
Her  dignity ;  which,  copying  the  divine, 
Soften'd,  through  cond^oeoskm,  learnt  to  thhie. 
Greatness  of  thought,  with  prudence  Ibr  its  guide  } 
Knowledge,  from  nature  and  fkom  art  tttpply'd  j 
To  noblest  objects  pointed  variont  ways ; 
Pbinted  by  judgment's  clear,  unerring  rays. 

**  What  manly  virtues  in  her  mhid  esccel ! 
Yet  on  her  heart  what  tender  fmmkKm  dwell  f 
For  ah  I  what  pangs  did  late  her  peace  dettroyy 
To  part  with  thee,  so  wont  to  give  her  joy ' 
How  heav'd  her  breast,  how  sadden'd  was  her  msjn  : 
All  in  the  mother  then  was  lost  the  queen. 
The  swelling  tear  then  dimm'd  her  putiiv  view. 
The  struggling  sigh  ttopp'd  siiort  her  last  ndien  ; 
Ev'n  now  thy  fancied  pcvils  fill  h»  nmid; 
The  secret  rock,  rough  wave,  and  rising  wind  t 
The  shoal,  so  treacherous,  near  tiw  temptiiV  land;. 
Th*  ingulphing  wbirlpooii  aad  the  iwalkeriof  Mid  i 


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E  GRiECO  RUF. 


tfiusciedperilf  an,  byda7,bynjght, 

tn  thoBi^ti  alanii  her,  and  in  dreami  affiright; 
3Fbr  tbee  her  heart  unoeaaog  lore  declares, 
In^doubtSy  fai  hopes,  m  wishes,  and  in  prayers  I 
Her  prmyen  are  heard ! — Forme,  tis  thine  to  brave 
The  «Mid,  the  shoal,  rock,  whiripool,  wind,  and  ware : 
Kind  SafiBty  waits,  to  waa  thee  gently  oler. 
AmmA  Joy  to  greet  thee  on  the  Belgic  shore. 
^Bfayfatoretimes,wfaentheir  fond  praise  would  tell 
How  moat  their  Csvourite  characters  excel ; 
Hovblest!howgreat!— thenmaytheirsongsdeclare. 
So  gmt !  so  blest  !*«uch  Anne  and  Nassau  were." 


£  GRJECO  RUF. 

Qui  te  ridet  beatus  est, 

Beatiof  qoi  te  audiet. 

Qui  basiat  semi-deus  est 

Qui  te  potitur  est  deus.    Buchanan. 

TBB  POaiCOWG  LOnB  PAaAraiASBD. 

Hapit  the  man,  who,  in  thy  narUing  eyes. 
His  amorous  wishes  sees,  reflecting,  play  ; 

Sees  little  laughing  cupids,  glancing,  rise, 
And,  in  soft-swimming  languor,  die  away. 

Still  happier  he !  to  whom  thy  meanmgs  roll 
In  sounds  which  lofe,  harmonious  tove,  hispire ; 

On  his  chann'd  ear  sits,  npt^  his  listening  soul. 
Till  admiratioD  form  bAetme  desire. 

Half-deity  is  he  who  warm  may  press 
Thy  lip,  soft-swelling  to  the  kindling  kiss; 

And  nwy  that  lip  assentive  warmth  exprew, 
•nil  love  draw  willing  love  to  ardent  bliss ! 

^CSji"^  ^  **"*»  ""^  circled  in  thy  arms, 

^Who,  melting  on  thy  mutual-melting  breast, 
Entranc'd  enjoys  love's  whole  luxurious  charais. 
Is  aU  a  god  !—is  of  aU  Heaven  possest 


TUS 

EMPLOYMENT  OF  BEAUTY. 
A  POEM. 

ADDaESSED  TO  MRS.  BRIDQBT  JOKES,  A  TOVNO  WIDOW- 
LADV  OF  ILAMBLLV,  CAERIIARTHEN8HIRE. 

Okce  Beauty,  wishing  food  desire  to  move, 
Cootriv'd  to  catch  the  heart  of  wandering  Love. 
Come,  purest  atoms  !  Beauty  aid  imploruii  • 
For  new  soft  texture  leave  etherial  stoi-es. 
They  come,  they  croud,  Ihey  shining  hues  unfold, 
Be  theirs  a  form,  which  Beauty's  self  shall  mould  ! 
To  mould  my  charmer's  form  she  all  app|y»d— 
Whence  Cambria  boesU  the  birth  of  Nature's  pride 

She  calls  the  Graces— Such  is  Beautv'a  state. 
Prompt,  at  her  caU,  th*  obedient  Onces  wait 
First  your  fair  feet  they  shape,  and  shape  to  please : 
Each  stands  design'd  for  dignity  and  ease. 
Firm,  on  these  curious  pedestals,  depend 
Two  poltsh'd  pillars ;  which,  as  fair,  ascend  ; 
From  well-wTought  knees,  more  fair,  more  laree, 

they  rise;  ^ 

Seen  by  the  Muse,  though  hid  ftom  mortal  eyes. 
More  polish'd  yet,  your  fabnc  each  sustains  : 
That  purest  temple  wheie  perfection  reigns, 


337 

A  small,  sweet  circle  forms  your  faultless  waist. 
By  Beauty  shap'd^  to  be  by  Love  embiac'd. 
Beyond  that  lessening  waist,  two  orbs  devise. 
What  swelling  charms,  in  fair  proportion,  rise ! 
Fresh  peeping  there,  two  blushing  buds  are  found. 
Each  like  a  rose,  which  lilies  white  surround. 
There  feeling  sense,  let  pitying  sighs  inspire. 
Till  panting  pity  swells  to  warm  desire : 
Desire,  though  warm,  is  chaste;  each  warmest  kiss, 
AU  rapture  chaste,  when  Hymen  bids  the  bliss. 
Rounding  and  soft»  twoteper  arm^descend; 
Two  snow-white  hands,  in  taper  fingers,  end. 
Lo!  cunningBeauty,  on  each  pakn,  designs 
l/>ve^  fortune  and  your  own,  in  mystic  Unesj 
And  Icwely  whiteness,  either  arm  contains. 
Diversified  withazare-wandering  veins; 
The  wandering  veins  conceal  a  generous  flood. 
The  purple  treasure  of  celestial  blood. 
Rounding  and  white  your  neck,  as  curious,  rears 
O'er  all  a  face,  where  Beauty's  self  appears. 
Her  soft  attendants  smooth  the  spotless  skin. 
And,  smoothly-oval,  turn  the  shapely  chin; 
The  shapely  chin,  to  Beauty's  rising  fiioe. 
Shall,  doubling  gently,  give  a  double'mce. 
And  soon  sweet-opening,  rosy  lips  disclose 
The  well-rang*d  teeth,  in  lily-whitening  rows ;    - 
Here  life  b  breath'd,  and  florid  life  assumes 
A_'j**'**»  ^^iQ»e  fragrance  vies  with  vernal  Mooms ; 
And  two  fiur  cheeks  give  modesty  to  raise 
A  beauteous  bhish  at  praise,  though  just  the  praise*. 
And  nature  now,  fhmi  each  kind  ray,  supplies 
Soft,  clement  smiles,  and  love-inspiring  eyes; 
New  graces,  to  those  eyes.  mUd  shades,  allow; 
Fnnge  their  fahr  lids,  and  pencil  either  brow. 
While  sense  of  vision  lights  up  orbs  so  rare. 
May  none,  but  pleasing  objects,  visit  there  ! 
Two  little  porches,  (which,  one  sense  empowers. 
To  draw  rich  scent  from  aromatic  flowers) 
In  structure  neat,  and  deck'd  with  polish'd  grace. 
Shall  equal  first,  then  heighten,  Beauty's  face. 
To  smelling  sense,  oh,  may  the  flowery  year. 
It's  first,  last,  choicest  incense,  offer  here  ! 
Transparent  next,  two  curious  crescents  bound 
The  two-fold  entrance  of  inspiring  sound. 
And,  granting  a  new  power  of  sense  to  hear, 
New  finer  organs  form  each  curious  ear ; 
Form  to  imbibe  what  most  the  soul  can  move. 
Music  and  reason,  poesy  and  love. 
Next,  on  an  open  front,  is  pleashig  wrought 
A  pensive  sweetness,  bom  of  patient  thouriit : 
Above  your  lucid  shoulders  locks  display'd. 
Prone  to  descend,  shall  soften  light  with  khade. 
All,  with  a  nameless  air  and  mein,  unite, 
And,  as  you  move,  each  movement  is  delight 
Tun'd  is  your  melting  tongue  and  equal  mind. 
At  once  by  knowledge  heighten'd  and  refin'd. 
The  Virtues  next  to  Beauty's  nod  incline  • 
For,  where  they  lend  not  light,  she  cannot  shine ; 
Let  these,.the  temperate  sense  of  taste  reveal. 
And  give,  while  nature  spreads  the  simple  mtol. 
Tha  palate  pure,  to  relish  health  design'd. 
From  luxury  as  taintless  as  your  mind. 
The  Virtues,  chastity  and  truth,  impart. 
And  mould  to  sweet  benevolence  your  heart 

Thus  Bea^y  finish>d— Thus  she  gains  the  sway. 
And  Love  stiU  foUows  where  she  leads  the  way. 
Prom  every  gift  of  Heaven,  to  charm  is  thine ; 
To  love,  to  praise,  and  to  adore,  be  mint, 


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sds 


SAVAGES  POEMS. 


»ENT  TO 

MBS.  BRIDGET  JONES, 

WITH 

THE  WANDERER. 

ALLUDING  TO  AN  EFISODB,  VBBtB  A  TOVHO  l|AN  TVtm 
HERMIT,  TOR  TRB  tOSS  Of  HIS  W|FB  OLTUPU. 

Wreh  with  4dif^t  fond  Lofve  on  BeR«ty  dveH, 
While  this  the  yovth,  and  fJbftt  tbe  fiur  tacpaat, 

P^nt  was  hii  joy  coai|»r*<i  to  wb9t  I  felt, 
^lieD  iQ  my  aDgd  Biddy's  presence  Uat. 

Tell  her,  my  Muse,  in  soft,  sad,  righing  breath. 
If  she  his  piercing  grief  can  pitjring  see, 

AVorse  than  to  him  was  his  Olympiads  death. 
From  her  each  moment's  absence  is  tome* 


FJLSE  HISTORIANS: 

A   SATIRE. 

Sure  of  all  plagues  wiUj  which  dull  prose  is  curst, 
S?andais,  from  false  historians,  spot  the  wont 
In  quest  U"  these  the  Muse  shall  first  advance. 
Bold,  to  explore  the  regioM  of  romance ; 
Romance,  caird  History— Lo !  at  once  she  skims 
The  risiooary  world  of  monkish  whiias .; 
Wher*^  fallacy,  in  i«  gends,  wildly  shinw. 
And  vengeance  iplares  from  violated  shrines ; 
Where  saints  perform  all  tricks,  and  stortle  thought 
With  many  a  miracle  that  ne'er  was  wrought ; 
Saints  that  never  liv'd,  or  such  as  justice  pamts. 
Jugglers,  on  superstition  palm'd  for  saints. 
Mere,  canooiz'd,  let  creed-mongers  be  shown. 
Red  lettered  saints,  and  red  assassins  known ; 
While  those  they  martyr'd,  such  as  angeU  rose ! 
All  black  enroled  among  religion's  foes, 
Snatch'd  by  sulphureous  clouds,  a  lie  proclaims 
Number'd  with  fiends,  and  plunged  in  endless  flames. 
History,  from  air  or  deep  draws  ^nany  a  spright, 
Such  as,  fi-om  nurse  or  priest,  might  boys  affright  j 
Or  such  as  but  o'er  feverish  slumbcrt  fly. 
And  fix  in  melancholy  frenzy's  eye. 
New  meteors  make  enthusiasUwonder  stare. 
And  image  wild  portoitoos  wars  in  air  ! 
Seers  fall  entranc'dl  some  wizard's  lawless  skill 
Now  whwls,  now  fetters  Nature's  works  at  will ! 
Thtis  History,  by  machine,  mock-epic,  seems. 
Not  from  poetic,  but  from  monkish  dreams. 
The  devil,  who  priest  and  sorcerer  must  obey, 
•  The  sorcerer  us'd  to  raise,  the  parson  lay. 
When  Echard  wav»d  hU  pen,  the  history  shows. 
The  parson  conjured,  and  the  fiend  uprose. 
A  camp  at  distance,  and  the  scene  a  wood. 
Here  enter'd  Noll,  and  there  old  Satan  stood : 
No  tail  his  rump,  his  foot  no  hoof  reveal'd  j 
Like  a  wise  cuckold,  with  his  horns  oooceal'd  : 
Not  a  gay  serpent,  glittering  to  the  eye  ;  # 

But  more  than  serpent,  or  than  hartot  fly : 
For,  lawyer -like,  a  fiend  no  wit  can  scape. 
The  demon  stands  confest  in  proper  shape ! 
Now  spreads  his  parchment,  now  is  sign'd  the  scroU  j 
Thus  Noll  gains  empire,  and  the  denl  has  Noll. 

Wondrous  historian !  thus  account  for  evil. 
And  thus  for  its  success— 'tis  aU  the  deiriL 
Thou^  nCer  that  devil  we  saw,  yet  one  wc  see,— 
One  oCan  author  sure,  awl— thou  art  he. 


But  dusky  phantoms,  filase^  nomore  pamie! 
Now  dearer  objects  q[>en— yet  untrue. 
Awful  the  genuine  historian's  name  * 
False  ooes— with  what  materials  build  they  iM»  » 
Fabrics  of  fouke,  by  dirty  in^ans  made  |0(4* 
As  nests  of  martins  are  comjpil'd  of  mud. 
Peace  be  with  Curll— with  him  I  w*ve  «U  strife. 
Who  psns each  felon's,  and  each  actor^s  life; 
Biopapby  that  cooks  the  devil's  martyis. 
And  lards  with  luscious  rapes  the  cheats  of  CbartKSp 

Materials,  which  belief  m  ga^ett^  claios, 
Loose-stfung,  run  gingling  into  Bistofj's  nave. 
Thick  as  Egyptian  clouds  of  ra'ming  flies ; 
As  thick  as  worms  where  man  coming  lies ; 
As  pests  obscene  that  haunt  the  ruin'd  pile ; 
As  monsters  floundering  in  themoddy  Nik ; 
Minutes,  memoirs,  Tiews  and  refviews  appear^ 
Where  slander  darkens  each  veccxrded  3rcar. 
In  a  past  reign  is  fe'ign^d  some  amoroos  league; 
SooMS  ring  or  letter  new  teveals  th' intrigne : 
Queens,  with  their  minions,  woric  unseemly  thinp» 
And  boys  grow  dokes,  when  catamitet  to  kings. 
Does  a  prince  die?  What  poisons  they  surmise ! 
No  royal  mortal  sure  by  nature  dies. 
Is  a  prince  bom  ?  What  birth  more  base  beljerM  > 
Or,  what's  more  strange^  his  mother  ne'ec  oonoeiv'd  ♦ 
Thus  slander  popular  o'er  truth  prevails^ 
And  easy  miods  imbiha  ro«iagitie  talas. 
Thus,  'stead  of  history,  such  attthors  raise 
Mbre  crude  wiM  novels  of  bad  hints  for  plays. 
Some  usurp  name»— an  JBnglish  garreteer. 
From  mmutes  forg*d,  is  monsieur  Metnager  '. 

Some,  while  on  good  or  ill  success  they  stare,^ 
Give  conduct  a  complexion  dark  or  fair  : 
Others,  as  little  to  hx|uiry  prone, 
Accoont  for  actions,  though  their  spring*s  unknown. 

One  statesman  Tices  has,  and  virtues  too  ; 
Hence  will  contested  character  ensue. 
View  but  the  black,  he's  fiend ;  the  bright  bu^aoao* 
He  's  angel :  view  him  aU^he>s  stiD  a  manl 
But  such  historians  all  accuse,  acquit ; 
No  virtue  these,  and  those  no  vice  admit ; 
For  either  in  a  friend  no  fenlt  will  know. 
And  neither  own  a  virtue  in  a  foe. 

Where  hear-say  knowledge  sits  on  public  names. 
And  bold  coqjecture  or  extols  or  blames. 
Spring  party  libels ;  from  whose  ashes  dead, 
A  monster,  misnani'd  History,  lifts  its  head. 
Contending  fections  croud  to  hear  its  roar  ! 
But  when  once  heard,  it  dies  to  noise  no  more. 
From  these  no  answer,  no  applanae  fiom  those. 
O'er  half  they  simper,  and  o^er  half  they  dt^e. 
So  when  in  senate,  with  egregk>os  pate. 

Perks  up  sir m  some  deep  debate  ; 

He  hems,  looks  wise,  tones  thin  his  labQuring  throaii 
To  prove  black  white,  postpone  or  palm  the  'vote : 
In  sly  contempt,  some,  *  Hear  him !  hear  him  !>  cry  ; 
Some  yawn,  some  sneer ;  none  second,  nonerqply^ 

But  dare  such miscreanti  now  rush  abroad. 
By  blanket,  cane,  pomp,  pillory,  unaw'd  ? 
Dare  they  imp  felsehood  thw,  and  plume  her  wings^ 
From  present  characters  aop  recent  thngi  ? 

>  The  Minutes  of  mons.  Mesnager ;  a  book  cal- 
culated to  vilify  the  admmistratioii  in  the  leor  last 
years  of  queen  Anne's  reign.  The  truth  it,  that  this 
libel  was  not  written  by  mons.  Mesnager,  nettber  was 
any  such  book  ever  printed  in  the  Fkeiidi  toi^^ae, 
from  which  it  is  impMently  gud  in  the  tiHt  pageto 
be.  translated.    Savage. 


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A  CHAftACTJSfi. 


a^ 


Yes  I  what  utttmtlit  (  or  trathf  in  what  diif^uiie ! 
.What  Boyen  aod  what  ddmizcms  ariKe ! 
liViHiA  ficts  fipom  all  but  them  and  slander  scieen'd ! 
Here  meets  a  ocmncil,  no  where  else  conTen'd ! 
There,  fsom  originals,  come,  thick  as  spawn, 
X^etteis  ne*er  wiote,  memorkds  never  drawn ; 
To  secret  oonferenoe  never  held  they  yoke. 
Treaties  ne'er  plann*d,  and  speeches  never  ^>oke. 
From,  Oldmixon,  thy  brow,  too  well  we  know. 
Like  sin  from  Sattan^s,  imrand  wide  thty  gu. 

In  vain  may  St  John  safe  in  conscience  sit ; 
lu  vain  with  truth  confute,  contemn  with  wit : 
Confnte,  contemn,  amid  selected  friends  $ 
There  sinks  the  jostioe,  thete  the  satire  ends, 
Hese,  though  a  century  scarce  such  leaves  unclose, 
From  mould  and  dust  the  slander  sacred  grows. 
Now-  none  reply  wh^re  all  despise  the  page ; 
But  will  dumb  scorn  deceive  no  future  age  ? 
Then,  should  dull  periods  cloud  not  seeming  fact. 
Will  DO  fine^pen  th'  nttanswer*d  lie  eitract  ? 
Well-set  in  plan,  and  polished  into  style, 
Fair  and  more  fi^r  may  fimsh'd  fraud  beguile ; 
By  erery  language  snatchM  by  thne  received, 
In  every  clime,  1^  every  age  bdiev'd  : 
low  vain  to  virtue  trust  the  great  their  name. 
When  such  theb  lot  forinfamy  or  feme  ? 


i 


CHARACTBR, 


pAia  Truth,  m  opuits  where  Justice  should  preside. 
Alike  the  judge  snd  advocate  would  guide ; 
And  these  wouM  vie  each  dobkms  poinft  to  dear* 
To  stop  the  widow's  and  aod  the  orphan's  tesf ; 
Were  all,  like  Yorke,  of  delicate  address. 
Strength  to  disoem,  aod  sweetness  to  express, 
LeamM,  just,  polite,  bom  every  heart  to  gaia,^ 
Like  Cummins  mild;  like  Fortesoue  i  homan^ 
All-eloqnent  of  truth,  divinely  known. 
So  deep,  so  clear,  all  science  is  his  own, 

Of  heart  impure,  and  impotent  of  head. 
In  history,  rhetoric,  ethics,  law,  unread  j 
How  for  unlike  such  worthies,  once  a  drudge. 
From  floundering  in  low  (rases,  rose  a  judge. 
Form'd  to  make  pleaders  laugh,his  nonsense  thunders, 
And,  on  low  juries,  breathes  contagious  blunders. 
His  brothers  blush,  because  no  blush  he  knows, 
Kor  e'er  "  one  uncomipted  finger  shows  *." 
See,  drunk  with  power,  the  circuit-loard  exprest ! 
Fnll,  in  his  eye,  his  betters  stand  contest  ^ 
Whose  wealth,  birth,  virtue,  ftom  a  tongue  so  loose, 
'Scape  not  provincial,  vile,  buffoon  abuse. 
Still  to  what  chrcutt  is  assigned  hi^  name. 
There,  swift  before  him,  flie^  tlie  warner— Fame, 
Contest  stops  short.  Consent  yields  every  cause 
To  Cost  i  Delay,  endures  them,  an^  withdraws. 
But  how  'scape  prisoners  ?  Jo  their  trial  chaiu'd, 
All,  all  diall  staiid  ooodemn*d,  who  stand  arraigned. 
0ire  guilt,  which  else.would  detestatkm  cause, 
Pr^i>dg*d  with  insult,  wonderous  pity  draws. 
But  'scapes  e'ea  Innocence  his  harsh  harangue  ? 
Alas  !-*e'e|i  hmocence  itself  most  hang  j 

1  The  hooourable  William  Fortescue,  esq ;  one  of 
the  justices  of  his  majesty's  court  of  Common 
Pleas. 

f  MThen  Page  ops  uncomipted  finger  shews. 

D.  of  Wharton. 


Mufll  hang  to  please  him,  when  of  S|:^een  possest^ 
Must  bang  to  bring  forth  an  abortive  jesti 

Why  liv  d  he  not  ere  Star-chamben  had  £ul'd, 
l^lien  fuie,  tax,  censure,  all  but  lew  prevaird$ 
Or  law,  subservient  to  some  murderous  will. 
Became  a  preoedont  to  murder  stiU  ? 
Yet  ev4i  when  patriots  did  for  trailorsbleecl. 
Was  e'er  the  jobb  to  such  a  slave  decreed, 
Whose  savage  mind  wants  aophist-art  to  dmw, 
O'er  murderV)  virtue,  spacious  veils  of  laW  > 

Wliy,  student,  when  U|e  bcnoh  yonr  youth  admits; 
Where,  thongh  the  wont,  with  the  best  rank^he  sit0{ 
Where  sound  opinions  you  attentive  writ^ 
As  once  a  Rajmiond,  now  a  Lee  to  cite, 
Wby  pause  yo«i  seomfiil  when  he  dins  the  couitT 
Note  well  his  cruel  quirks,  and  well  report 
Let  his  own  words  against  himself  point  clear 
Satire  more  sharp  than  verse  when  mort  severe. 


BPITAPJI 
ON  MRS.  JONES, 

ORAHOMOTHfia  TO  MRS.  BRmSOT  JONES,   OP  ILAMLLT 
IN  CAEIMARTHSIISIIIRE. 

In  her,  whose  relics  mark  this  sacred  earth. 
Shone  all  domestic  and  all  social  worth  : 
First,  Heaven  her  hope  with  early  oflbpriag  crown'd ; 
And  tfa^ce  a  seoood  race  rose  nomerous  ronnd. 
Heaven  to  industrious  virtue  blessing  lent, ' 
And  all  was  competence,  and  all  conteot.    . 

Though  frugal  care,  in  wisdom's  eye  sdmtr'd. 
Knew  to  preserve  what  industry  reqoir'd ; 
Yet,  at  her  board  with  decent  plenty  blest, 
The  journeying  stranger  sat  a  welcome  guest 
Prest  on  all  sides,  did  trading  neighbeors  fear 
^  Rum,  whksh  hung  o'er  exigeaoe  severe  } 
Farewell  the  friend,  who  ^ar'd  th*  assistant  kMm-*« 
A  neighboar*s  woe  or  welftre  was  her  own. 
I>id  piteous  lazards  oft  attend  her  door  i 
She  gave— farewell  the  parent  of  the  poor. 
Youtb,age,and  want,  oncacheer'd,  now  sighing  sweD^ 
Bless  her  lov'd  name,  and  weep  a  last  fkreweU, 


VALENTINE'S  DAY^ 
A  POEM 

ADDRESSBD 
TO  A  YOUMG  WIDOW  LADT. 

Aniiu,  re  rocks  that  witnessed  once  my  flame,     - 
Retum'd  my  sighs,  and  edio'd  Chloe's  name ! 
Cambria,  farewell !— my  Chloe's  charms  no  more 
Invite  my  steps  along  Uanelly's  shore; 
Ihere  no  wild  dens  conceal  voracious  foes. 
The  beach  no  fierce,  amphibious  mouster  knows; 
No  crocodile  there  flesh'd  with  prey  a|^;>ears, 
Atid  o'er  that  bleeding  prey  weeps  cruel  tears ; 
No  false  hyssna,  feignmg  human  grief. 
There  mmden  him,  whose  goodness  paeans  relief  ; 
Yet  tides,  conspiring  with  unfieuthiul  ground, 
Thoughdistan[tseen,with  treacherous  srms,8urround. 
Hiere  quicksaods,  thick  as  beauty'k  snares,  annoy. 
Look  ftur  to  tempt,  add  whom  they  teinpt,  destroy 
I  watch'd  the  seas,  I  pae'd  the  sands  with  care, 
]^K»p'd,  but  wildly  nish'd  on  beauty's  snait. 


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340 


SAVAGED  POEMS. 


Ah !— better  &r,  than  b^  that  snare  o*erpow'rdy 
Had  sands  mgulfd  me^  or  had  seas  derour'd. 

Far  ftpm  that  shore,  where  syren-beauty  dwells. 
And  Wraps  sweet  rtiin  in  resistless  spells; 
Fixxn  CambfUn  plains ;  which  Chloe's  lustre  boast. 
Me  native  England  yields  a  safer  coast 
Chloe,  fiuewell  !**Now  seas,  with  boisterous  pride. 
Divide  us,  and  will  ever  fiir  divide : 
Yet  while  each  plant,  which  vernal  youth  resumes, 
Feeb  the  green  blood  ascend  in  future  blooAu  $ 
While  little  feathered  songsters  of  the  air 
In  woodlands  tuneful  woo  and  fondly  pair. 
The  Muse  exults,  to  beauty  tunes  the  lyre. 
And  willing  Loves  the  swelling  notes  mspire. 

Sure  on  this  day,  when  hope  attains  success. 
Bright  Venus  first  did  young  Adonis  bless. 
Ber  charms  not  brighter,  Chloe,  sure  than  thine ; 
Thmgh  flush'd  his  youth,  not  more  his  warmth  than 
Sequester'd  Ht  within  a  myrtle  grove,  [mine. 

Whose  blooming  bosom  courts  retiring  love; 
Where  a  clear  sun,  the  blue  serene  displays, 
AncLtheds,  through  vernal  air,  attempered  rays ; 
Where  6owers  th«r  aromatic  incense  bring; 
And  fragrant  flourish  in  eternal  spring ; 
There  mate  to  mate  each  dove  responsive  coos. 
While  this  assents,  as  that  enamonr'd  woos ; 
There  rills  amusive,  send  from  rocks  around, 
A  solitary,  pleasing  murmuring  sound ; 
Then  form  a  limpid  lake.    The  lake  serene 
Reflects  the  wonders  of  the  blissful  scene. 
To  love  the  birds  attune  their  chirping  throats. 
And  on  each  breeze  immortal  music  floats. 
There  seated  on  a  rising  turf  n  seen, 
Graceful,  in  loose  array,  the  Cyprian  queen ; 
All  fresh  and  fair,  all  mild,  as  Ocean  gave 
The  goddess,rising  from  the  azure  wave; 
Dishevel'd  locks  distil  celestial  dews, 
And  all  her  limbs,  divine  perfumes  difVusp. 
Her  voice  so  charms,  the  plumy,  warbling  throngs. 
In  listening  wonder  lost,  suspend  their  songs. 
It  sounds^-*'  Why  loiters  my  Adonis  ?**— cry, 
**  Why  loiters  my  Adonis?" — rocks  reply. 
**  Oh,  come  away !" — they  thrice,  repeating,  say ! 
And  Echo  thrice  repeats,—"  Oh  come  away !" — 
Kind  zephyre  waft  Uiem  to  her  lover*s  ears ; 
Who,  instant  at  th*  enchanting  call,  appears. 
Her  placid  eye,  where  sparkling  joy  refines. 
Benignant,  with  alluring  lustre  shines. 
His  locks,  which,  in  loose  ringlets,  charm  the  view, 
Float  careless,  lucid  from  their  amber  hue.       i 
A  msnrtle  wreath  her  rosy  fingers  frame, 
Which,  finom  her  hand,  his  polish'd  temples  claim; 
•His  temples  fiur,  a  streaking  beauty  stains, 
As  smooth  white  marble  shines  with  azure  veins. 
He  kneel'd.    Her  snowy  hand  he  trembling  seiz'd. 
Just  lifted  to  his  lip,  and  gently  squeezM } 
'Ae  meaning  squeeze  retum*d,  love  caught  its  lore 
And  enter'd,  at  his  palm,  through  every  pore. 
Theii  swell'd  her  downy  breasts,  till  then  enclosed. 
Fast  heaving,  half-conceard  and  hiMf-expos'd: 
Soft  shiB  reclines.    He,  as  they  fatl  and  rise. 
Hangs,  hovering  o*er  them,  with  enamoured  eyes. 
And,  warm'd,  grows  wanton — As  he  thus  admir'd. 
He  pry'df  he  touch'd,  and  with  the  touch  was  iir*d. 
Hair-angry,  yet  half-pleas'd,  her  frown  beguiles 
The  boy  to  fear ;  but,  at  his  fear,  she  smiles. 
The  youth  less  timorous  and  the  fair  less  coy. 
Supinely  amorous  they  reclining  toy. 
More  amorous  still  his  sanguine  meaning  stole 
f n  wistful  glanoes,  to  her  softening  soul : 


In  her  fair  eye  her  aoftennig  tool  he  reads: 
To  freedom,  fineedom,  boon,  to  boon,  succeeds. 
With  conscious  blush,  th'  impas8ion*d   chuflMT 

bums: 
And,  blush  for  blush,  th'  impassioned  youth  returns. 
They  look,  they  languish,  sigh  with  pleasing  pain. 
And  wi^  and  gaze,  and  gaze  and  with  again. 
Twixt  her  white,  parting  bosom  steals  the  boy. 
And  more  than  hq>e  prdudes  tumultuous  joy  » 
Through  every  vein  the  vigorous  transport  ran. 
Strung  every  nerve,  and  biac'd  the  boy  to  man. 
Struggling,  yet  yielding,  half  o'erpower'd,  Ae  paats» 
Seems  to  doiy,  and  yet,  denying,  grants. 
Quick,  like  the  tendrils  of  a  curling  vine. 
Fond  limbs  with  limbs,  in  amorous  folds,  entwine. 
Lips  press  on  lips,  caressing  and  carest. 
Now  eye  darts  flame  to  eye,  and  breast  to  breast 
All  she  resigns,  as  dear  desires  incite. 
And  rapt  he  reach'd  the  brink  of  full  delight. 
Her  waist  compressed  in  his  exulting  arms, 
Hestorms,  eiqAores,and  rifles  all  her  charms; 
Clasps  in  ecstatic  bliss  th'  expiring  £ur. 
And,  thrilling,  melting,  nestling,  riots  there* 

How  long  the  rapture  lasts,  how  soon  it  fleets. 
How  oft  it  pauses,  and  how  oft  repeats ; 
What  joys  they  both  receive  and  both  bestow, 
Virgins  may  guess,  but  wives  experienced  know : 
From  joys,  like  tlxaK,  (ah,  why  deny*d  to  me  ?) 
Sprung  a  freJn,  blooming  boy,  my  Hit,  from  thee. 
May  he,  a  new  Adonis,  lift  hb  crest. 
In  all  the  florid  grace  of  youth  confest ! 
First  let  him  learn  to  lisp  your  lover's  name. 
And,  when  he  reads,  here  annual  read  my  flame. 
When  beauty  first  shall  wake  his  genial  fire. 
And  the  first  tingling  sense  excite  desire ; 
When  the  dear  object,  of  his  peace  possest. 
Gains  and  still  gams  on  his  unguarded  breast : 
Then  may  he  say,  as  he  tliis  verse  reviews. 
So  my  bright  mother  charm'd  the  poet*s  Muse. 
His  heart  thus  fluttered  oft  'twixt  doubt  and  fear, 
LightenM  with  hope,  and  sadden'd  with  despair. 
Say,  on  some  rival  diid  she  smile  too  kind  ? 
Ah,  read — what  jeakMisy  distracts  his  mind  ! 
SmiI'd  she  on  him  ?  He  imaged  rays  divine. 
And  gaz'd  and  gladdenM  with  a  love  like  mine. 
How  dwolt  her  praise  upon  his  raptur'd  tongue  ! 
Ah  !-~wben  she  frowned,  what  plaintive  nota>  be 

sung ! 
And  could  she  frown  on  him — ^Ah,  wherefore,  tell ! 
On  hhn,  whose  only  crime  was  loving  well  ? 

Thu«i  may  thy  son  his  pangs  with  mine  compare, 
Then  with  his  motlier  had  been  kind  as  fair. 
For  him  may  love  the  ni3nrtle  wreath  entwine; 
Though  the  sad  willow  suits  a  woe  like  mme ! 
Ne'er  may  the  filial  hope,  like  me,  complain  ! 
Ah !  never  sigh  and  bleed,  like  me  in  vain  !— 

When  death  affords  that  peace  which  love  denies. 
Ah,  no !— 4ar  other  scenes  my  fate  supplies ; 
When  earth  to  earth  my  Tifeless  corse  is  laid. 
And  o'er  it  hangK  the  yew  or  cypress  shade : 
When  pale  I  flit  along  the  dreary  coast. 
An  helpless  lover's  pining  plaintive  ghost ; 
Here  annual  on  this  dear  returning  day. 
While  feathered  chohrs  renew  the  melting  lay ; 
May  you,  my  fair,  when  you  these  strains  shall  see, 
Just  spare  one  sigh,  one  tear,  to  love  and  me. 
Me,  who,  in  absence  or  in  death,  adore 
lliose  heavenly  charms  I  must  h^old  no  more. 


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TO  JOHN  POWELL. 


341 


TO 

JOBS  POWELL,  Esq. 

BAMlIffTER  Am   LAW. 

Iw  me  long  absent,  loog  with  anguish  fhiught, 
Im  me,  though  silence  long  has  deaden'd  thought. 
Yet  memory  lives,  and  calls  the  Muse's  aid. 
To  anatch  our  friendship  from  oblivion's  shade. 
As  soon  the  Sun  shall  cease  the  world  to  warm. 
As  soon  Llanelly*8  hive  ^  that  world  to  charm, 
As  grateful  sense  of  goodness,  true  like  thine. 
Shall  e*er  desert  a  breast  so  warm  as  mine. 

V  When  hnag'd  Cambria  strikes  my  memory's  eye, 
(Cambria,  my  darlhig  scene  !)  I,  sighing,  cry, 
Wheae  is  my  Powell  ?  dear  associate  !~where  ? 
To  him  I  would  unbosom  every  care ; 
To  him,  who  eariy  felt,  from  beauty,  pain  j 
Gall'd  m  a  plighted,  faithless  virgin's  cham. 
At  length,  fiom  her  ungenerous  fetters,  freed, 
Again  he  loves  !  he  woos !  his  hopes  succeed  ! 
But  the  gay  bridegroom,  still  by  fortune  crost. 
Is,  mstant,  in  the  weeping  widower  lost 
Her  his  sole  joy !  her  from  his  bosom  tora. 
What  fiseling  heart,  but  learns,  like  his,  to  mourn? 
Can  nature  then,  such  sodden  shocks,  sustam  ? 
Nature  thus  struck,  all  reason  pleads  in  vun ! 
Though  late,  from  reason  yet  he  draws  relief. 
Dwells  on  her  memory ;  but  dispels  his  grief. 
Love,  wealth,  and  fome  (tjrrannic  passions  all !) 
No  more  inflame  him,  and  no  more  enthraL 
He  seeks  no  more,  in  Rufus*  hall,  renown ! 
Nor  envies  pelf  the  jargon  of  the  gown ; 
But  pleas'd  with  competence,  on  rural  plains. 
His  wisdom  courts  that  ease  his  worth  obtains. 
Would  private  jars,  which  sudden  rise,  increase  ? 
His  candour  smiles  all  discord  into  peace. 
To  party  storms  is  public  weal  resign'd } 
Each  steady  patriot-virtue  steers  his  mmd. 
Calm,  on  the  beach,  while  maddening  billows  rave. 
He  gains  philosophy  from  every  wave ; 
Sci€9Boe,  from  every  object  round,  he  draws; 
Fhmi  various  nature,  and  from  nature's  laws. 
He  lives  o'er  every  past  historic  age  ; 
He  calls  forth  ethics  from  the  fabled  page. 
Him  evangelic  truth,  to  thought  excites; 
And  him,  by  turns,  each  classic  Muse  delights. 
With  wit  welUnatur'd  ;  wit,  that  would  disdain 
A  pleasure  rising  from  another's  pain ; 
Social  to  all,  and  most  of  bliss  possest. 
When  most  he  renders  all,  around  him,  blest : 
To  unread  'squires  illiterately  gay  ; 
Among  the  leam'd,  as  learned  fiill  as  th^y ;  * 
With  the  polite,  all,  all-aocompljsh'd  ease, 
By  nature  fbrm'd,  without  deceit,  to  please. 

Thus  shmes  thy  youth ;  and  thus  my  friend,  elate 
In  bliss  as  well  as  worth,  is  truly  great. 
Me  still  should  ruthless  fate,  unjust,  expose 
Beneath  th^  clouds,  that  rain  unnumber'd  woes ; 
Me,  to  some  nobler  sphere,  should  fortune  raise, 
To  wealth  conspicuous,  and  to  Taurol'd  praise ; 
UnaHer'd  yet  be  love  and  friendship  mine  ; 
I  still  am  Chloe's,  and  I  still  am  thine. 

1  Mrs.  Bridget  Jonei. 


LONDON  AND  BRISTOL 
DELINEATED «. 


Two  sea-port  cities  marie  Britannia's  fieune. 
And  these  from  commerce  different  honours  clum. 
Whai  different  honours  shall  the  Muses  pay, 
While  one  inspire  and  one  untunes  the  lay  ? 

Now  silver  Isis  brightening  flows  along, 
Echoing  from  Oxford  shore  each  classic  song ; 
Then  weds  with  Tame;  and  these,  O  London,  see 
Swelling  with  naval  pride,  the  pride  of  thee ! 
Wide,  deep,  unsullied  Thames,  meandering  glides 
And  bears  thy  wealth  on  mild  majestic  tides. 
Thy  ships,  with  gilded  palaces  that  vie. 
In  glittering  pomp,  strike  wondering  China's  eye  j 
And  thence  returning  bear,  in  splendid  rtate. 
To  Britain's  merchants,  India's  eastern  freight. 
India,  her  treasures  from' her  western  shores. 
Due  at  thy  fset,  a  willing  tribute  pours ; 
Thy  warring  navies  distant  nations  awe. 
And  bid  the  worid  obey  thy  righteous  law. 
Thus  shine  thy  manly  sons  of  liberal  mind ; 
Thy  Change  deep-busied,  yet  as  courts  refin'd ; 
Councils,  like  senates,  that  enforce  debate. 
With  fluent  eloquence  and  reason's  weight. 
Whose  patriot  virtue,  lawless  power  controls  | 
Their  British  emulating  Roman  souls. 
Of  these  the  worthiest  still  selected  stood. 
Still  lead  the  senate,  and  still  save  the  land : 
Social,  not  selfish,  here,  O  Learning,  trace 
Thy  friends,  the  lovers  of  all  human  race ! 

In  a  dark  bottom  sunk,  O  Bristol  now. 
With  native  malice,  lift  thy  lowering  brow  I 
Then  as  some  hell-bora  sprite  in  mortal  guise. 
Borrows  the  shape  of  goodness  and  belies. 
All  fiur,  all  smug,  to  yon  proud  hall  invite. 
To  feast  all  strangers  ape  an  air  polite  I 
From  Cambria  drain'd,  or  £ngland*s  western  coast , 
Not  elegant,  yet  costly  banquets  boast  I 
Revero,  or  seem  the  stranger  to  revere  ;^ 
Praise,  fhwn,  profess,  be  all  things  but  sincere ; 
Insidious  now,  our  bosom- secrets  steal. 
And  these  with  sly  sarcastic  sneer  reveal. 
Present  we  meet  thy  suMking  treacherous  smiles ) 
The  harmless  absent  still  thy  sneer  reviles ; 
Such  as  in  thee  all  parts  superior  find. 
The  sneer  that  marks  the  fool  and  knave  combm'd ; 
When  melting  pity  would  aflbrd  relief. 
The  ruthless  sneer  that  msult  adds  to  grief. 
What  friendship  canst  thou  boast  ?  what  honours 

claim  ? 
To  thee  each  stranger  owes  an  injnr*d  name. 
What  smiles  thy  sons  most  in  their  foes  excite ! 
Thy  sons,  to  whom  all  discord  is  delight ; 
From  whom  eternal  mutual  raiUng  flows  | 
Who  in  each  other's  crimes,  their  own  expose  i 
Thy  sons,  though  crafty,  deaf  to  wisdom's  call| 
Despising  all  men,  and  despised  by  all : 
Sons,  wtule  thy  cli£&  a  ditch-like  river  laves. 
Rude  as  thy  rocks,  and  muddy  as  thy  waves, 
Of  thoughts  as  narrow  as  of  words  immcDse, 
As  full  St  turbulence  as  void  of  sense  ? 
Thee,  thee,  what  senatorial  souls  :  doro ! 
Thy  natives  sure  woukl  provp  a  stnate'^  toon. 

1  The  author  preferr'd  this  title  to  that  of  London 
and  Bristol  Compared ;  which,  when  ha  began  tha 
piece,  htmtended  to  prefix  to  i:. 


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342 


SAVAGE'S  POEMS. 


Do  strangers  deign  to  seire  thee ;  'ivhat  their  praise } 
Their  generous  services  thy  murmurs  raise. 
What  fiend  malign,  that  o*er  thy  air  presides. 
Around  from  bmst  to  breast  inherent  glides, 
4ad,  as  he  glides,  there  scatters  in  a  trice 
The  lurluDg  seeds  of  every  rank  devk%  ? 
Let  foreign  youths  to  thy  indentures  fun  ! 
Each,  each  will  prove,  in  thy  adopted  »m, 
Proud,*  pert»  and  dull — thou«:h  brilliant  once  from 

schools, 
Will  scorn  all  learning's  as  all  viitoe's  rules ; 
And,  though  by  nature  friendly,  honest,  brave, 
Turn  a  sly,  selfish,  simpering,  sharping  knave. 
Boast  petty-courts,  where  *frtead  of  fluent  ease, 
Of  eited  prfKedents  aud  learned  pleas ; 
'Stead  of  ftge.council  in  the  dubious  cause, 
Attomiet,  chattering  wild,  burlesque  the  laws— 
(So  shameless  quacks,  who  doctors*  right  invade. 
Of  jargon  and  of  poison  form  a  trade. 
So  canting  cobbers,  while  from  tubs  they  teach, 
Buffiwn  the  gospel  they  pretend  to  preach.) 
Boast  petty  courts,  whence  rules  new  rigour  draw. 
Unknown  to  Nature's  and  to  statute-law ; 
Quiirks  that  explain  all  saving  rights  away. 
To  give  th*  attorney  and  the  catchpoll  prey. 
Is  there  where  law  too  rigorous  may  deseoid. 
Or  charity  her  kindly  hsuod  extend  ^ 
lliy  courts,  that,  shut  when  pity  would  redress. 
Spontaneous  open  to  iuAict  distress. 
Try  misdemeanours !— «11  thy  wiles  employ. 
Not  to  chastise  th'  offender,  but  destroy  ; 
Bid  the  large  lawless  fine  1^  &to  foietol ; 
Bid  it  beyond  his  crime  and  fortune  sweU ; 


Cot  off  from  serrice  doe  to  kindred  blood, 
To  private  welfiu«  and  to  public  good^ 
Pitied  by  all,  but  thee,  he  sentenced  lies  ; 
Imprisoned  langu^hes,  imprisoned  dies. 
♦    ♦«*♦**#♦# 

Boast  swarming  vessels,  whose  plebeian  state 
Owes  not  to  merchants  but  mechanics  freight 
Boast  nought  but  pedlar-fieets — in  war's  alarmi^ 
Unknown  to  glory,  as  unknown  to  anna. 
Boast  thy  base  ToLscy,  >  and  thytum-spit  dogs. 
Thy  Halliers  <  horses  and  thy  human  hogs ; 
Upstarts  and  mushrooms,  proud,  relentless  hearts^ 
Thou  blank  of  sciences !  thou  dearth  of  art«( ! 
Such  foes  as  learning  once  was  doom'd  to  see ! 
Huns,  Gk>ths,  and  Vandals,  were  but  types  of  thee 

Proceed,  great  Bristol,  in  all-righteous  ways, 
And  let  one  justice  heighten  yet  thy  praise  ; 
Still  spare  the  catamite,  and  swinge  the  whcnre. 
And  be,  whatever  Gomorifaa  was  beforsu 

'  A  place  where  the  merohants  used  to  rndfett^ 
transact  tiieiraffidrs  before  the  &Gchange  was  erect- 
ed. See  Gentleman^s  Magazine,  VoL  XII  I.  p.  499* 
'  >  Halliers  ate  the  persons  who  drive  or  own  tie 
sledges  which  are  here  used  instead  ef  carts. 


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THE 


POEMS 


o? 


DR.  JONATHAN  SWIFT. 


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THE 

LIFE  OF  DR.  JONATHAN  SWIFT. 

BY  DR.  JOHNSON. 


An  account  of  Dr.  Swift  has  been  already  collected,  with  great  diligence  and  acute- 
oessy  by  Dr.  Hawkesworth,  according  to  a  teheme  which  I  laid  before  him  in  the 
intimacy  of  our  fnendship.  I  cannot  therefore  be  expected  to  say  much  of  a  life, 
OQiieemiBg  which  I  had  long  since  communicated  my  thoughts  to  a  man  capable  of 
dignil^g  his  narration  with  so  much  elegance  of  language  and  force  of  sentiment. 

JONATHAN  SWIFT  was»  aocordmg  to  an  account  said  to  be  written  by  himself, 
the  son  of  Jonathan  Swift,  an  attorney,  and  was  bom  at  Dublin  on  st.  Andrew's  day, 
16671  according  to  his  own  report,  as  delivered  by  Pope  to  Spence,  he  was  bom  at 
Leicester,  the  son  of  a  clergyman,  who  was  minister  of  a  parish  in  Herefordshire  ^ 
During  his  life  the  place  of  his  birth  was  undetermined.  He  was  contented  to  be 
called  an  Irishman  by  the  Iririi;  but  would  occasionally  call  himself  an  Englishman. 
Hie  question  may,  without  much  regret,  be  left  m  the  obscurity  in  which  he  delighted 
to  involve  it. 

Whatever  was  his  birth,  his  education  was  Irish.  He  was  sent  at  the  age  of  six  to 
the  sdiool  of  Kilkenny,  and  in  his  fifteenth  year  (1682)  was  admitted  into  the  univer- 
sity of  Dublin. 

In  his  acadenycal  studies  he  was  either  not  diligent  or  not  happy.  It  must  disap- 
yokA  everf  reader^s  expectation,  that,  when  at  the  usual  time  he  claimed  the  bachelor- 
ship of  aits,  he  was  found  by  the  examiners  too  conspicuously  deficient  for  regular 
admission,  and  obtained  his  degree  at  kst  by  special  f avow ;  a  term  used  in  that  uni- 
versity to  denote  want  of  merit. 

Of  this  disgrace  it  may  be  easily  supposed  that  he  was  much  ashamed,  and  shame 
hftd  its  proper  effect  m  producing  reformation.  He  resolved  ftt)m  that  time  to  study 
dght  hours  a  day,  and  continued  his  industry  for  seven  years,  with  what  unproveraent 
it  sufficiently  known«  This  part  of  his  story  well  deserves  to  be  remembered ;  it  may 
afford  useftd  admonition  and  powerful  encouragement  to  many  men,  whose  abilities 
have  been  made  for  a  time  useless  by  their  passions  or  pleasures,  and  who,  having  lost 
one  part  of  life  in  idleness,  are  tempted  to  throw  away  the  remainder  in  despair. 

In  this  course  of  daily  aj^cation  he  continued  three  years  longer  at  Dublin ;  and 
kk  this  time,  if  the  observation  and  memory  of  an  old  companion  may  be  trusted,  he 
diew  the  first  sketch  of  his  Tde  of  n  Tub. 

1  Mr.  Shetidan  in  hit  life  of  Swift  observes,  that  this  account  was  really  written  by  the  dean,  and 
Miw  esists  in  his  own  hand  writing  in  the  library  of  Dublin  college.    R. 
<  8pepioe*s  Anoedotei,  toL  II.  p.  973. 


fis^. 


9/ 


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346  LIFE  OF  SWIPT. 

When  be  was  about  one  and  twenty  (16SS\  being  by  the  deadi  of  6odwm  Swift  Ini 
uncle,  who  bad  supported  him,  left  without  subsistence^  he  went  to  consult  his  motbaT 
who  then  lived  at  Leicester,  about  the  future  course  of  his  life;  and  bylier  diiedioB 
solicited  the  advice  and  patronage  of  sir  William  Temple,  who  had  married  one  of 
Mrs.  Swift's  relations,  and  whose  father  sir  John  Temple,  master  of  the  nols  hi  Ireland^ 
had  lived  in  great  familiarity  of  fnendshq>  with  Godwin  Swift,  by  whom  Jonathan  had 
l)een  to  that  time  maintained. 

Temple  received  with  sufficient  kindness  the  nephew  of  his  Other's  friend,  with  whoA 
he  was,  when  they  conversed  together,  so  much  pleased  that  he  detained  bun  two  yean 
in  his  house.  Here  he  became  known  t^  kmg  WSliam,  who  somethnes  visited  Temple 
when  he  was  disabled  by  the  gout,  and,  bemg  attended  by  Swift  in  the  garden,  showed 
him  bow  to  cot  asparagus  m  the  Dutch  way. 

King  WilliaHirs  no^ns  were  all  miiitaiy;  and  he  eipfesstd  hia  Undttess  to  Swift  ly 
ofiering  to  make  htm  »  cnptiin  of  hoiat. 

VThen  Temple  remo^  to  Moor^pvkw  hetodL  Swift  with  hiito;  and  wlm  be  wn 
consuHtd  by  the  earl  of  Portland  about  tfe  eipedieBct  of  cmmjpiymg  wMb  aUn  then 
dependmg  for  ottdnng  parlhunents  triennial^  agaiasl  which  king  Wlllbni  wka  ^CktMi^ 
pp^qdked,  after  havmg  in  vain  tried  to  show  fhe  eari  that  the  fnpmA  imrcived  mMmg 
dai^roQB  to  royri  power,  he  sent  Swift  for  the  same  purpose  to  the  Uog«  Swift,  who 
probably  was  proud  of  his  employment  and  went  witii  all  the  tonfidMce  of  a  yoqng 
man,  found  h»  aiguments,  and  Us  art  of  diipbying  them,  made  totaiy  hiefclctual  by 
the  predetermination  of  the  khig;  and  need  to  Mentkm  this  disappolalment  as  hii  fnt 
imtidote  agaiast  vanity. 

Before  he  left  Iretond  he  contracted  a  disorder,  as  he  thought,  by  eating  too  nmch 
fruit  The  original  of  diseases  is  commodyobscura.  ^bnost  every  boy  eats  aa  mach 
firuit  as  ha  can  get,  wMiout  any  great  ineoniwiience.  The  disease  of  SwM  was  gkldH 
ness  vrith  deafiiesy,  which  attadted  him  from  tune  to  time,  began  yeiy  eaily^  paasaad 
Um  throngh  life,  and  lA  last  smt  him  to  the  grave,  dq>rived  of  leisisk 

Being  much  oppressed  at  Moor-paifc  by  this  grievous  mabdy,  be  wan  advised  t4  tiy 
Us  nathreav,  and  went  to  Iiehmd ;  ba|^  findmg  no  benefit,  vetamed  to  sb  WlliaaBtf  at 
vfhbse  house  be  conthmed  hii  studies^  and  is  known  to  have  read,  among  other  booh% 
Cyprian  and  Irenaeus.  He  thought  exercise  of  great  necessity,,  and  naedtoi  mn  half  a 
1^  up  and  down  a  hill  every  two  howa. 

n  is  easy  to  imagine  that  the  made  u>  whidi  bio  first  degree  was  oottfianndi  left  Um 
no  great:  fenddeis  for  the  Unimnitiy  of  I>id>lin,  and  tbavefiwe  be  raaotved  to^beooinaa 
Piaster  of  arts  at  Oxford.  IntbetastiMoDiBl  which  bepindneed,dwiraelsof  Agmea 
were  omitted;  and  hetoek  hbaaartei'sdegmClUijd^lC^  wilbantbnMpliainrt 
Itgand^s  ftiHy  oootentcd  Imn. 

While  htfhve^  with  Templei  lie  nsadaapayifi^modMt  at Ltieastnr a  fea^  visit  Be 
travelled  OB  foot^onlese  some  violenca  e#  weatker  diovii  Um  into  a  vMggon  >  aadat 
liigfatbe  woidd  go  to  a  penny  locking,  where  be  pniehnsad  einns  sheets  for  siapaiH 
This  practice  lord  Orrery  hnputes  to  his  hmali  leva  of  gr lisnsaa  mtd  vnlgarily :  sevt 
may  ascribe  it  to  his  desire  of  surveymg  human  life  throu^  all  its  varieties:  andotbcn^ 
perhaps  with  equal  probability,  to  a  passion  whkh  seems  to  have  been  dcsf^y  fixed  ia 
his  heart,  the  love  of  a  shilling.  ' 


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LIFE  OP  mttr^  ut 

hk  time  be  began  to  thhdr  flmt  bis  attendilDce  at  Moor4Mt  deserved  some  otter 
tecoinpeiise  than  tbe  pleasure,  howeTcr  mmgled  with  unprotenieiit,  of  Temple**  cei^ 
irm^tioD ;  and  grew  so  impatient,  that  (1694)  he  went  away  in  ^Kscontent. 

IVmple,  conscious  of  haiiog  given  reason  for  coraplaiat,  is  said  to  bave  made  faim 
tfepoty  master  of  tfie  roHs  m  Irebind ;  wbicb,  according  to  bis  Innsman's  account,  was 
an  <^Ge  which  he  knew  hhn  not  able  to  discharge.  Swift  therefore  resolved  to  enter 
into  tiie  church,  in  which  he  had  at  fhrst  no  higher  hopes  than  of  the  cbaplainship  to 
the  fiictory  at  Lisbon ;  but,  bemg  recommended  to  lord  Cape^  be  obtained  the  pre* 
bend  of  Kilroot  in  Connor,  of  about  a  hundred  pounds  a  year« 

Bnt  the  mfinnities  of  Temple  made  a  companion  like  Swift  so  necessary,  that  hef 
ioTited  him  back,  with  a  promise  to  procure  Imn  English  preferment  in  excbmige  for 
file  prebend,  which  he  desh-ed  him  to  resign.  With  this  request  Swift  quickly  com^ 
plied,  having  perhaps  equally  repented  their  separation,  and  they  tived  on  together 
with  mutual  satisfaction ;  and,  in  the  four  yean  ttat  passed  between  his  return  and 
Temple's  death,  it  is  probable  that  he  wrote  the  T^  of  a  Tub  and  the  Battle  of  the 
Books. 

Swift  began  early  to  tlimk,  or  to  hope,  that  he  wa^  a  poet,  and  wrote  Pindaric 
odes  to  Temple,  to  the  king,  and  to  the  Athenian  society,  a  knot  of  obscure  men  ', 
who  published  a  periodical  pamphlet  of  answers  to  questions,  sent,  or  supposed  to  be 
jent,  by  letters,  t  have  been  told  that  Dryden,  havkig  perused  these  verses^  said, 
**  Cousm  Swift,  you  wiQ  never  l>e  a  poet;"  and  that  tbb  denunciation  was  the  motive 
of  Swift's  perpetual  malevolence  to  Diyden. 

In  1699  Temple  died,  and  left  a  legacy  vrith  bis  mannscripts  to  Swift,  for  whom  be 
had  obtained  from  kmg  William  a  promise  of  the  first  prebend  that  should  be  vacant 
nt  Westminster  or  Canterbury. 

That  this  promise  might  not  be  forgotten.  Swift  dedicated  to  theking  the  posthumous 
works  with  which  he  was  intrusted :  but  neither  the  dedication,  nor  tenderness  for  the 
man  whom  he  once  had  treated  with  confidence  and  fondness,  revived  m  king  William 
tte  remembrance  of  his  promise.  Swift  awhile  attended  the  court ;  but  soon  found  his 
jolidtations  hopeless. 

He  was  then  invited  by  the  earl  of  Berkeley  to  accompany  him  into  Irdand,  as  his 
private  secretary;  but,  after  having,  done  the  busfaiess  till  their  arrival  at  Dublin,  be 
then  found  that  one  Bush  had  persuaded  die  eari  that  a  dergyttan  vras  not  a  proper 
secretary,  and  had  obtamed  the  office  for  himself.  In  a  man  lie  Swift,  such  drcum* 
mention  and  inconstancy  must  have  excited  violent  incfignation. 

But  he  had  yet  more  to  sufier.  Lord  Berkeley  had  the  disposal  of  the  deanery  of 
Deny,  and  Swift  expected  to  obtain  it;  but  by  the  secretary's  infhtence,  supposed  to 
bave  been  secured  by  a  bribe,  it  was  bestowed  on  somebody  else;  and  Swift  was  dis- 
missed with  the  livmgs  of  Laracor  and  Rathbeggin  in  the  diocese  of  Meath,  which 
together  dkl  not  equal  half  the  value  of  the  deanery. 

At  Laracor  ht  increased  tbe  parochial  duty  by  reading  pnyers  on  WediMdays  and 
IMnys,  and  performed  all  the  offlcef  of  Ins  profMon  wfidi  great  decency  and  exact- 


9  Tbt  poMiilitr  of  fhk  C90e«tigD  was  Jbbii 


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348  UFE  OP  SWIFT. 

Soon  after  his  settlement  at  Laracor»  he  invited  to  Ireland  the  unfortunate  Stella,  m 
young  woman  whose  name  was  Johnson,  the  daughter  of  the  steward  of  sir  William 
Temple,  who,  in  consideration  of  her  father's  virtues,  left  her  a  thousand  poonds. 
With  her  came*  Mrs.  Dingley,  whose  whole  fortune  was  twenty-seven  pounds  a  year  for 
her  life.  With  these  hidies  he  passed  his  hours  of  relaxation,  and  to  them  he  opcaed 
his  bosom ;  but  they  never  resided  in  the  same  house,  nor  did  he  see*  either  withoot  a 
witness.  They  lived  at  the  Parsonage,  when  Swift  vras  away ;  and,  when  he  returned, 
removed  to  a  lodging,  or  to  ihe  house  of  a  neighbouring  clergyman. 

Swift  was  not  one  of  those  minds  which  amaze  the  world  with  early  pregnancy  :  hh 
first  work,  except  his  few  poetical  essays,  was  the  Dissentions  in  Athens  and  Rome, 
published  (l  70 1 )  in  his  thirty-fourth  year.  After  its  appearance,  paying  a  visit  to  some 
bishop,  he  heard  mention  made  of  the  new  pamphlet  that  Burnet  had  written,  replete 
with  political  knowledge.  When  he  seemed  to  doubt  Burnet's  right  to  the  work,  he 
was  told  by  the  bishop,  that  he  was  **  a  young  man ;"  and,  still  persisting  to  doubt, 
that  he  was,  "  a  very  positive  young  man.^ 

Three  years  afterwards  (1704)  was  published  The  Tale  of  a  Tub:  of  this  book 
charity  may  be  persuaded  to  think  that  it  might  be  written  by  a  man  of  a  peculiar  cha- 
racter without  ill  intention ;  but  it  is  certaiuly  of  dangerous  example.  That  Swift  was 
its  author,  though  it  be  universally  believed,  was  never  owned  by  himself,  nor  very  well 
proved  by  any  evidence ;  but  no  other  claimant  can  be  produced,  and  he  did  not  deny 
it  when  archbishop  Sbarpe  and  the  dutchess  of  Somerset,  by  showing  it  to  the  queen, 
debarred  him  ftt>m  a  bbhopric. 

When  this  wild  work  first  raised  the  attention  of  the  public,  Sacheverell,  meeting 
Smalridge,  tried  to  flatter  him,  by  seeming  to  think  him  the  author ;  but  Smalridge 
answered  with  indignation,  "  Not  all  that  you  and  I  have  in  the  world,  nor  all  that  ever 
we  shall  have,  should  hire  me  to  write  the  Tale  of  a  Tub." 

The  digressions  relating  to  Wotton  and  Bentley  must  be  confessed  to  discover  want 
of  knowledge  or  want  of  integrity ;  he  did  not  understand  the  two  controversies,  or  be 
willingly  misrepresented  them.  But  wit  can  stand  its  ground  against  truth  only  a  little 
while.  The  honours  due  to  learning  have  been  justly  distributed  by  the  decision  of 
posterity. 

The  Battle  of  the  Books  is  so  like  the  Combat  des  Livres,  which  the  same  question 
concerning  the  ancients  and  modems  had  produced  in  France,  that  the  improbability  of 
such  a  coincidence  of  thoughts  without  communication  b  not,  in  my  opinion,  balanced 
by  the  anonymous  protestation  prefixed,  in  which  all  knowledge  of  the  French  book  is 
peremptorily  disowned  *. 

For  some  time  after  Swift  was  probably  employed  in  solitary  study,  gaining  the  qua- 
lifications requisite  for  future  eminence.  How  often  he  visited  England,  and  with  what 
diligence  he  attended  his  parishes,  I  know  not.  It  was  not  till  about  four  years  after- 
wards that  he  became  a  professed  author;  and  then  one  year  (1708)  produced  The 
Sentiment^  of  a  Church-of-£ngland  Man ;  the  ridicule  of  Astrology  under  the  name  of 
Bickerstaff;  the  Argument  agawst  abolishing  Christianity;  and  the  defence  of  the  Sa« 
i:ramental  Test. 

4  3^  Sberidan'f  life,  edit.  1784,  p.  525,  where  are  tome  remarks  on  this  punge.    JL 


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LIFE  OP  SWIFT.  34j 

The  Sentiments  of  a  Church-of-England  Man  is  written  ^irith  great  coolness,  modera- 
tkm,  ease  and  perspicuity.  The  Argument  against  abolishing  Christianity  is  a  veiy 
happy  and  judicious  irony.    One  passage  in  it  deserves  to  be  selected, 

'^  If  Christianity  were  once  abolisbed,Piow  could  the  free-thinkers,  the  strong  reason- 
en,  and  the  ifnea  of  profound  learning,  be  able  to  jBnd  another  subject  so  calculated,  in 
all  points,  whereon  to  diqplay  their  abilities  ?  *  What  wonderful  productions  of  wit  should 
we  be  deprived  of  from  those,  whose  genius,  by  continual  practice^  hath  been  wholly 
turned  upon  raillery  and  invectives  against  religion,  and  would  therefore  never  be  able 
to  shine,  or  distinguish  themselves,  upon  any  other  subject?  We  are  daily  complaining 
of  the  great  decline  of  wit  among  us,  and  would  take  away  the  greatest,  perhaps  the 
only,  \ojpic  we- have  left.  Who  would  ever  have  suspected  Asgill  for  a  wit,  or  Toland 
tor  a  philosopher,  if  the  inexhaustible  stock  of  Christianity  had  not  been  at  hand 
to  provide  them  vrith  materials?  What  other  subject,  through  all  art  or  nature,  could 
have  produced  Tindal  for  a  profound  author,  or  furnished  him  with  readers?  It  ii 
the  wise  choiqe  of  the  subject  that  alone  adonis  and  distinguishes  the  vnriter.  For  had 
an  hundred  such  pens  as  these  been  employed  on  the  side  of  religion,  they  would  have 
immediately  sunk  into  silence  and  oblivion." 

The  reasonableness  of  a  test  is  not  hard  to  be  proved ;  but  perhaps  it  must  be  allowed 
that  the  proper  test  has  not  been  chosen. 

The  attentk>n  paid  to  the  papers  published  under  the  name  of  Bickerstaff,  mduced 
Steele,  when  he  projected  The  TkUer,  to  assume  an  appellation  which  had  already 
ganied  possession  of  the  reader's  notice. 

In  the  year  following  he  wrote  a  Project  for  the  Advancement  of  Religion,  addressed 
to  lady  Berkeley ;  by  whose  kindness  it  is  not  unlikely  that  he  was  advanced  to  his 
benefices.  To  this  project,  which  is  formed  with  great  purity  of  intention,  and  dbplayed 
with  sprightliness  and  degauce,  it  can  only  be  objected,  that,  like  many  projects,  it  is,  if 
not  generally  impracticable,  yet  evidently  hopeless,  as  it  supposes  more  aeal,  concord,  and 
perseverance,  than  a  view  of  mankind  gives  reason  for  expecting. 

He  wrote  likewise  this  year  A  Vindication  of  Bickerstaff;  and  an  explanation  of  An 
Ancient  Prophecy,  part  written  after  the  facts,  and  the  rest  never  completed,  but  well 
planned  to  excite  amazement 

Soon  after  began  the  busy  and  important  part  of  Swift's  life.  He  was  employed 
(1710)  by  the  primate  of  Ireland  to  solicit  the  queen  for  a  remission  of  the  first  fruits 
and  twentieth  parts  to  the  Irish  clergy.  With  this  purpose  he  had  recourse  to  Mr. 
Harley,  to  whom  he  was  mentioned  as  a  man  neglected  and  oppressed  by  the  last  mi-> 
nistry,  because  he  had  refused  to  co-operate  with  some  of  their  schemes.  What  he 
had  refused  has  never  been  told ;  what  be  had  suffered  was,  I  suppose,  the  exclusion 
from  a  bishopric  by  the  remonstrances  of  Sbarpe,  whom  he  describes  as  the  **  hatmless 
tool  of6thers'  hate,"  and  whom  he  represents  as  afterwards  ''suing  for  pardon." 

Harle/s  designs  and  situation  were  such  as  made  him  glad  of  an  auxiliary  so  well 
qualified  for  his  service;  he  therefore  soon  admitted  him  to  fimiiliarity,  whether  ever  to 
confidence  some  have  made  a  doubt ;  but  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  excite  his  seal 
without  persuading  him  that  he  was  trustedi  and  not  very  easy  to  delude  him  by  fiilsci 
persuasions* 


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§6B  tim  OF  smFt. 

He  WB8  certakdy  adsiitted  to  these  nectii^  IB  ¥fi^ 
of  action  we  fuppiwed  to  have  been  fonned;  and  was  one  of  the  sixteen  i«iHislers»  or 
agents  of  the  ministry,  who  met  weekly  alt  •each  other's  houses  and  were  linked  by  ilie 
name  of  Brother. 

Beiagnot  immediately  coBsidened  as  an  obdurate  Tory^  he  conversed  indiseriautiately 
with  all  the  wits,  and  was  yet  the  frieaif  of  Steele ;  who,  in  the  Tatler,  which  begaa 
in  April  1 709,  -confesses  the  advantage  of  his  conversatioo,  and  iiientioAs  something 
contributed  by  him  to  his  paper.  But  he  was  now  immerging  iato  political  controversy; 
for  the  year  1710  produced  The  Examiner,  of  which  Siv^  wrote  thirty-three  papers. 
In  argument  he  may  be  allowed  to  have  the  advantage ;  for  where  a  wide  systen  of 
conduct,  and  the  whole  of  a  public  character,  is  laid  open  to  inquiry,  the  accuser,  hai^ag 
the  choice  of  facts,  must  be  very  unskilful  if  he  does  not  prevail ;  but,  with  regard  to 
wit»  I  am  afraid  none  of  Swift'e  papers  will  be  found  equal  to  those  by  which  Addison 
opposed  him  ^ 

He  wrote  in  the  year  1711  &  Letter  to  the  October  Ciutv  &  number  of  Tory  gen* 
tlemen  sent  from  the  country  to  parliament,  who  formed  themselves  into  a  chib,  to  the 
number  of  about  a  hundred,  aud  met  to  animate  the  aeal  and  Taise  the  expectatious  of 
each  other.  They  thought,  with  great  reason,  that  the  ministers  were  losing  oppoitu'i 
iiities :  that  suiiicient  use  was  not  made  of  the  ardour  of  the  natioa ;  they  called  loudly 
for  more  changes  and  stronger  efforts ;  and  demanded  the  paoisbment  of  part,  aud  the 
dismission  of  the  rest,  of  thos^  whom  they  considered  as  pubtic  robbers, 

Theu*  eagerness  was  not  gratified  by  the  queen«  or  by  Harley.  The  qnecti  wns 
pndiably  slow  because  she  was  afraid ;  aud  Harley  was  slow  because  be  was  doidit&il ; 
be  was  a  Tory  only  by  necessity,  or  for  convenience ;  and,  when  he  had  power  in  his 
hands,  had  no  settled  purpose  for  which  he  should  employ  it ;  forced  to  gratify  to  a 
certain  degree  the  Tories  who  supported  hun,  but  unwillmg  to  make  his  reeonctlenienl 
to  the  Whigs  utterly  desperate,  he  corresponded  at  once  with  the  two  expectants  of  the 
crown,  and  kept,  as  has  been  observed,  the  succession  undetermined.  Not  knowing 
what  to  do,  he  did  nothing ;  and,  with  the  fate  of  a  double  dealer,  at  last  he  lost  his 
power,  but  kept  his  enemies. 

Swift  seems  to  have  concurred  in  opinion  with  the  October  Club ;  but  it  was  not  in 
his  power  to  quicken  the  tardiness  of  Harley,  whom  he  slinuilated  as  much  as  he  could, 
but  with  little  effect.  He  that  knows  not  whither  to  go,  is  in  no  haste  to  move.  Har- 
ley, who  was  perhaps  not  quick  by  uatu^je,  l>ecame  yet  more  sk)w  by  irresolution ;  and 
vras  content  to  hear  that  dilatoiiness  lamented  as  natural,  which  he  applauded  in  himsdf 
aspoUtic 

Without  the  Tories,  however,  nothing  could  be  done ;  and,  as  they  were  not  to  ba 
gratified,  they  must  be  appeased ;  and  tlie  conduct  of  the  mmister,  if  it  could  not  be 
vindicated,  was  to  be  plausibly  excused. 

Early  in  the  next  year  he  published  a  Proposal  for  correctmg,  hnproving,  and  ascer-^ 
tainmg  the  English  Tongue,  in  a  letter  to  the  earl  of  Oxford;  written  without  nsch 
knowledge  of  the  general  nature  of  languid  and  without  any  accurate  mquiry  into 
the  history  of  other  tongues.    The  certauity  and  stability  which,  contrary  to  all  expe-« 

9  Mr.  Sheridan  howerer  says,  that  Addison's  last  >\liig  Examiner  was  published  Oct,  13,  171 1^  and 
Swift's  fifst  SiajDiiier,  on  the  1 0th  of  the  following  NoTeml>er.    R, 


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UFE  OF  SWffT.  .     iU 

i  be  liBpbattrimiblf,liiepteyoie»  to  aecorcbyiastiUitiqy anjuatAwny ;  tfaedeeieef 
of  which  every  man  would  have  been  willing^  and  snany  would  ha«t  been  pEOud,  to 
dieobey»  nad  which,  bdng  renewed  by  successive  elections,  wowld  in  a  AotX  time  have 
differed  fipom  itaelC 

Swift  now  attained  the  feniib  of  his  political  iinporlance;  he  piibliibe«l  (1712)  the 
Conduct  of  tiie  Allies,  ten  days  beiore  the  parliament  assenibled.    The  pnrpose  was  to 
persuade  the  nation  to  a  peace ;  and  never  had  any  writer  more' success.    The  people, 
who  had  been  amused  with  bonfires  and  triumphal  processions,  and  looked  with  idola- 
try on  the  general  and  his  friends,  who,  as  they  thought,  had  made  England  the  arbi- 
tress  of  nations,  were  confounded  between  shame  and  rage,  when  they  found  that  "mines 
bad  been  exhausted,  and  millions  destroyed,*"  to  secure  the  Dutch  or  aggraadiBe  the 
emperor,  without  any  advantage  to  ourselves ;  that  we  had  been  bribing  our  neighbours 
to  fight  their  own  quarrel ;  and  that  amongst  our  enemies  we  might  number  our  alHes. 
That  is  now  no  longer  doubted,  of  which  the  nation  was  then  fint  informed,  that 
the  war  was  unnecessarily  protracted  to  fill  the  pockets  of  Mariborough;  and  that 
it  would  have  been  continued  without  end,  if  he  could  have  continued  his  annual  plunder. 
But  Swift,  I  si^^KMC,  did  not  yet  know  what  he  has  sioce  written,  that  a  commissioB 
w4s  dmwn  whidi  would  have  appointed  him  general  for  life,  had  it  not  beo^ne  inef- 
fectual by  the  resolution  of  lord  Cowper,  who  refused  the  seal. 

**  >Vhatever  is  received,"  say  the  schoob,  "  is  received  in  proportioa  to  the  recijuent.** 
The  power  of  a  political  treatise  depends  much  upon  the  disposition  of  tlie  people ;  the 
nation  was  then  combustible,  and  a  ^rk  set  it  on  fire.  It  is  boasted,  thai  between 
November  and  January  eleven  thousand  were  sold ;  a  great  number  at  that  time,  when 
we  were  not  yet  a  nation  of  readers.  To  its  propagation  certainly  no  agency  of  power 
or  influence  was  wanting*  It  furnished  arguments  for  conversation,  speeches  for 
debate,  and  materiab  for  parliamentary  resolutions. 

Yet,  surely,  whoever  surveys  this  wonder-working  pamphlet  with  cool  perusal,  will 
confess  that  its  efficacy  was  supplied  by  the  passions  of  its  raaders ;  that  it  opemtes  by 
the  mere  weight  of  facts,  with  very  little  assbtance  from  the  hand  that  produced  them. 
This  year  (1 7 12)  he  publislied  hb  Reflections  on  the  Barrier  Treaty,  which  carries 
on  the  design  of  his  Conduct  of  the  Allies,  and  shows  how  little  regard  in  that  negotia^ 
tion  had  been  shown  to  the  interest  of  England,  and  how  much  of  the  conquered  conn* 
try  had  been  demanded  by  the  Dutch. 

This  was  followed  by  Remarks  on  the  Bisjiop  of  Samm*s  Introduction  to  his  thud 
Volume  of  the  History  of  the  Reformabon ;  a  pamphlet  which  Burnet  published  as  an 
alarm,  to  warn  the  nation  of  the  approach  of  popery.  Swift,  who  seems  to  have  dis« 
liked  the  Insbop  with  something  more  than  political  aversion,  treau  him  hke  one  whom 
he  is  glad  of  an  opportonity  to  uisult 

Swift,  being  now  the  decbred  favourite  and  supposed  confident  of  the  Tory  ministry, 
was  treated  by  all  that  depended  on  the  court  witli  the  respect  which  dependents  know 
how  to  pay.  Hesoonbqian  to  fcel  part  of  the  misery  of  greatness;  he  that  could  say 
that  he  knew  bun,  consklered  hunself  ashavmg  fortune  in  hb  power.  Commbsions, 
solicitations,  remonstrances,  crowded  about  bun;  he  was  expected  to  do  evei^  man's 
buaness,  to  procure  employment  for  one,  and  to  retain  it  for  another.  In  assbting 
those  who  addressed  hinij  he  representa  hunself  as  sufficiently  diligent;  and  desires 


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552  LIFE  OP  SWIFT.' 

to  have  others  believe^  vrhat  he  probably  believed  himseU,  that  by  his  interpositioo 
many  Whigs  of  merit,  and  amoDg  them  Addison  and  Congreve,  were  continoed  in  thdr 
places.  But  every  man  of  known  influence  has  so  many  petitions  wludi  he  cannot 
grant,  that  he  must  necessarOy  offend  more  than  he  gratifies,  as  the  preference  given  to 
one  affords  all  the  restreason  for  complaint.  **  WhenI  give  away  a  placey**  said  Lewis 
XIV.  '*  I  make  an  hundred  discontented,  and  one  ungratefiiL'' 

Much  has  been  said  of  the  equality  and  independence  whidi  he  preserved  in  his 
conversation  with  the  ministers,  of  the  frankness  of  his  remonstrances,  and  the  familia- 
rity of  hb  friendship.  In  accounts  of  this  kind  a  few  single  inddents  are  set  agauut 
the  general  tenour  of  behaviour.  No  man,  however,  can  pay  a  mor6  semle  tribute  to 
the  great,  than  by  suffering  his  liberty  in  thdr  presence  to  aggrandize  him  io  his  own 
esteem.  Between  different  ranks  of  the  community  there  is  necessarily  some  distance ; 
he  who  is  called  by  his  superior  to  pass  the  interval,  may  properly  accept  the  invitation ; 
but  petulance  and  obtrusion  are  rarely  produced  by  magnanimity,  nor  have  often  any 
nobler  cause  than  the  pride  of  importance,  and  the  malice  of  inferiority.  He  who 
knows  himself  necessary  may  set,  while  that  necessity  lasts,  a  high  value  upon. himself ; 
as,  in  a  lower  condition,  a  servant  eminently  skilful  may  be  saucy ;  but  he  is  saucy  only 
because  he  is  servile.  Swift  appears  to  have  preserved  the  kindness  of  the  great  when 
they  wanted  him  no  longer ;  and  therefore  it  must  be  allowed,  that  the  child^  freedom^ 
to  which  he  seems  enough  inclined,  was  overpowered  by  his  better  qualities. 

His  dismterestedness  has  lieen  likewise  mendoned ;  a  strain  of  heroism,  which  would 
have  been  in  Im  condition  romantic  and  superfluous.  Ecclesiastical  benefices,  when 
they  become  vacant,  must  be  given  away ;  and  the  friends  of  power  may,  if  there  be 
BO  inherent  disqualification,  reasonably  expect  them.  Swift  accepted  (1 7 1 5)  the  deaneiy 
of  St  Patrick,  the  best  preferment  that  hb  friends  could  venture  *  to  give  him.  That 
ministry  was  in  a  great  degree  supported  by  the  clergy,  who  were  not  then  reconcfled 
to  the  author  of  the  Tale  of  a  Tub,  and  would  not  without  much  discontent  and  indig- 
nation have  borne  to  see  him  installed  in  an  Englbh  cathedral. 

He  refused,  indeed,  fifty  pounds  from  lord  Oxford ;  but  lie  accepted  after- 
wards a  draught  of  a  thousand  upon  the  exchequer,  which  was  intercepted  by  the 
queen's  death,  and  which  he  resigned,  as  he  says  himself,  "  multa  gemeus,  with  many  h 
groan."  , 

In  the  midst  of  hb  power  and  his  politics,  he  kepi  a  journal  of  his  visits,  hb  walks, 
hb  interviews  with  minbters,  and  quarrels  with  his  senant,  and  transmitted  it  to  Mrs- 
Johnson,  and  Mrs.  Dmglej',  to  whom  he  knew  that  whatever  befel  him  was  interesting, 
and  no  accounts  could  l>e  too  minute.  Whether  tliese  diurnal  trifles  were  properly 
exposed  to  eyes  which  had  never  received  any  pleasure  from  the  presence  of  the  dean, 
may  be  reasonably  doubted ;  tliey  have,  however,  some  odd  attraction ;  the  reader, 
finding  frequent  mention  of  names  which  he  has  been  used  to  consider  as  important, 
goes  on  in  hope  of  information ;  and,  as  there  b  nothing  to  fatigue  attention,  if  be  ii 
disappointed  be  can  hardly  complain.  It  is  easy  to  perceive,  from  every  page,  that 
though  ambition  pressed  SwiA  into  a  life  of  bustle,  the  wish  for  a*  life  of  ease  was  always 
returning. 

^  This  emphatic  word  has  not  escaped  die  watchful  eye  of  Dr.  Warton,  who  has  placed  a  doU  ben* 
•tit.    C  ^ 


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.      IJFE  OF  SWIFP.  233 

Wt  went  t6  take  posBession  of  his  deanery  as  soon  as  he  had  obtamed  it;  but  he  was 
not  suffered  to  stay  in  kehiiid  more  than  a  fortnight  before  he  was  recalled  to  England, 
that  b^  might  reGOOcii^  lord  Oxford  and  lord  Bolingbroke,  who  began  to  look  on  one 
another  with  mafevoknce,  which  every  day  increased,  and  which  Bolingbrdce  appeared 
to  retain  in  his  last  years. 

Swift  coatmed  an  interview,  from  which  they  both  depiarted  discontented :  he  pro- 
cared  a  second,  which  only  convinced  him  that  the  feud  was  irrecondleable;  he  told 
them  his  opinion,  that  all  was  lost.  This  denunciation  was  contradicted  by  Oiiford ; 
bot  BoitDgbl-oke  whispered  that  he  was  right 

Before  this  violent  dissension  had  shattered  tlie  ministry,  Swift  had  published,,  m  Uio 
b^imring  of  the  year  (1714),  The  pubKc  Spirit  of  the  Wliigs^  in  answer  to  The  Crisb, 
a  panapliidt  for  whidi  Steele  was  expelled  from  the  house  of  commons.  Swift  was  now 
so  far  alienated  from  Steele,  as  to  think  him  no  lon^  entitled  to  decency,  and  therefore 
treats  iriln  soinetinies  with  contempt,  and  sometime  with  abhorrence. 

,  In  this  pampUet  the  Scotcb  vrere  mentioned  in  terms  so  provokrog  to  that  irriti^e 
nalioi^  that,  resohrinf  '^  not  to  lie  ofended  with  impunity,''  the  Scotch  k>rds  in  a  body 
deamnded  an  aodicbceof  the  queen,  and  solicited  reparation.  A  procbmation  was 
issued,  in  which  three  hundred  pounds  were  ofiered  for  the  discovery  of  the  author. 
Rx>m  this  storm  he  was,  as  he  relates,  '*  secured  by  a  sleight ;"  of  what  kind,  or  by 
vi4t08e  prudence  is  not  known ;  and  such  was  the  increase  of  his  reputation,  that  the 
Seottiih  '<  mrtion  applied  again  that  he  wouM  be  their  friend.'' 

H^  was  become  so  formidable  to  the  Whigs,  that  his  famiharity  with  the  miiiisters 
wa$  ckimoured  at  in  parliament,  particularly  by  two  men,  afterwards  of  great  note, 
AiBM>ie>a0d  Walpole. 

But,  by  the  disunion  of  his  great  friends,  his  importance  and  designs  were  now  at  an 
end;  and  seelng^his  services  at  last  usdess,  he  retired  about  Jun^  (1714)  into  Berkshire, 
where,  in^  the  house  of  a  friend,  he  wrote  what  was  then  suppressed,  but  has  since  ap- 
peahSK)  under  the  title  of  Free  Thoughts  on  the  present  State  of  Afiairs. 

While  he  was  waiting  in  this  retirement  for  events  which  time  or  chance  migh^  bring 
to  pass,  the  death  of  the  queen  broke  down  at  once  the  whole  system  of  Tory  politics ; 
and  nothing  remkmed  but  to  witbdntfw  from  the  implacability  of  triumphant  Whiggism, 
and'sbeMer  hhnself  in  unenvied  obscurity. 

Tbe  accounts  of  his  reception  in  Ireland,  given  by  lord  Orrery  and  Dr.  Delany,  are 
•d'tiiftrent;  that  the  credit  of  the  writers,  both  undoubtedly  veracious,  cannot  be  saved, 
but  by  supposmg,  what  I  think  is  true,  that  they  speak  of  different  times*  When  Delany 
sthf^  that  he  war  received  with  r^iect,  he  means  for  the  first  fortnight;  when  he  came 
to  take  legal  possfession;  atHi  wiietr  lord'  OrrepyteDsthat  he  was  pelted  by  thepopulace* 
be^is  tOt^nndtrMMd  ot  the  ihtie  when,  after  the  queen's  death,  he  became  a  settled 


1%^  aidiUAioi^orDnUhi'gav^  hitn  at  first  some  dbtttrbanee  in  the  eiercise  of  bis 
jofMlnfolif  blit  H'  wair'soott tf iscoWHsd,  that  between  prudehce  and  integrity  he  was 
itfdoltt^lif  ifaie  Wfbttgi  and  that,  wtaiin  be  was  ri^ht,  lA  spirit  did  not  easily  yield  to 


Having  so  lately  quitted  the  tmnults  of  a  party,  and  tbe  intrigues  of  a  court,  tbqr 
9iat%!^mHMi^u^^^  a«  the  sea  ftuctdMerm  irUte  wfadi  the  stonn  his 


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354  >  UFE  OF  SWIFT- 

ceased.  He  tiierafore '  filled  bis  hours  with  some  historical  attempts,  relating  to  Iha 
Ciiange  of  the  Ministers,  and  the  Conduct  of  the  Ministry.  He  likewise  b  said  to  hatt 
written  a  History  of  the  four  last  Years  of  queen  Anne,  which  he  began  m  her  life-time, 
and  afterwards  laboured  with  great  attention,  but  never  published.  It  was  after  his 
death  in  the  hands  of  lord  Orrery  and  Dr.  King.  A  book  under  that  title  was  pub- 
lished, with  Swift's  name,  by  Dr.  Lucas ;  of  which  I  can  only  say,  that  it  seemed  by  no 
means  to  correspond  with  the  notions  that  I  had  formed  of  it,  from  a  conversatioo 
wliicb  I  once  heard  between  the  earl  of  Orrery  and  old  Mr.  Lewis. 

Swift  now,  much  against  his  will,  commenced  Irishman  for  liie»  and  was  to,  contrive 
how  he  might  be  t)est  accommodated  in  a  country  where  he  considered  himself  as  in. a 
state  of  exile.  It  seems  that  his  first  recourse  was  to  piety.  The  thoughts  of  death 
roshed  upon  him,  at  this  time,  with  such  incessant  importunity,  that  they  took  posses- 
sion of  his  mind,  when  lie  first  waked,  for  many  years  together. 

He  opened  \m  house  by  a  public  table  two  days  a  week,  and  found  his  entertain- . 
ments  gradually  frequented  by  more  apd  more  visitants  of  learning  among  the  meo^ 
and  of  eleguuce  among  the  women.    Mr^.  Johnson  had  left  the  country,  and  lived  in 
lodgings  not  far  from  the  deanery.     On  his  public  days  she  regulated  the  table,  but  • 
appeared  at  it  as  a  mere  guest,  like  other  ladies. 

On  otlier  days  he  often  dined,  at  a  stated  price,  with  Mr.  Wortal«  a. clergyman  of 
his  cathedral,  whose  house  was  recommended  by  the  peculiar  neatness  and  i^easantiy 
of  his  wife.  To  this  frugal  mode  of  living,  he  was  first  disposed  by  care  to  pay  some 
debts  which  he  had  contracted,  and  he  continued  it  for  the  pleasure  of  accumulating 
money.  His  avarice,  however,  was  not  suffered  to  obstruct  the  claims  of  his  dignity; 
he  was  served  in  plate,  and  used  to  say  that  he  was  the  poorest  gentleman,  in  Ireland 
that  ate  upon  plate,  and  the  richest  that  lived  without  a  coach. 

How  he  spent  the  rest  of  his  time  and  how  he  employed  his  hours  of  study,  has  b^  « 
inquired  with  hopeless  curiosity.     For  who  can  give  an  account  of  anotheijfs,  sthdies  t  - 
Swift  was  not  likely  to  admit  any  to  hb  privacies,  or  to  imparl  a  aunote  account  of  his 
business  or  his  leisure. 

Soon  after  (17i6)>  in  bb  forty*uinth  year,  he  was  privately  married  to  Mrs.  Johnson, ' 
by  Dr.  Ashe,  bbhop  of  Clogber,  as  Dr.  Madden  told  me,  in  tl^  garden.  The  mar- , 
riage  made  tio  change  in  their  mode  of  life ;  they  lived  in  different  houses,  as  before; . 
DOr  did  she  ever  lodge  in  the  deanery  but  whto  Swift  was  seized  witfi  a  fit  of  gidldiness. 
"  it  would  be  difficult,^'  says  lord  Orrery,  ''  to  prove  that  they  were  ever  ^ifterwaxjdi^ 
together  without  a  thurd  person." . 

The  dean  of  St  Patridi's  lived  ina  private  manner,  known  and  regarded  only  J>y  .Us- 
friends ;  till,  about  the  year  1 720,  he,  by  a  pamphlet,  recommended  to  the  Irish  the  usd : 
and  consequently  the  improvement,  of  their  nianufiMTture.    For  a  man  to  use  the  pror 
ductions  of  hb  own  labouir  b  surely  a  natural  right,  and  to  like  best  what  he.  malni 
himself  b  a  natural  passion.  '  Bnt  to  excite  thb  passion,  and  enforce,  this  right,  appeared 
so  criminal  to  those  who  had  an  interest  in  the  Eng^sb  trade,. that.tbe  prjpter  was  in: ' 
prisoned;  and,  as  Hawkesworth  justly,  observes,  the  attention  of  the  publicising  by- 
thb  outrageous  resentment  turned  upon  the  proposal,  the  author  was  by  coqseqnanQiP^ 
made  popular. 

'  In  1723  died  B£rs..  Van  Homi^h,  a  woman  made  unhappy  by. ber  admiration  of . wit:  t 
and  ignominiously  distingubhed  by  the  name  of  Vanessa^  whoae  ooodoct  has  besn 


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LIFE  OF  SWIFT,  '  55S 

^drdilly  tu^ently  discussed,  and  whose  history  is  too  well  known  to  be  mmutely  rer 
peated.     She  was  a  young  woman  fond  of  literature,  whom  Decanu9»  the  Dean,  called 
Cadenus  by  transposition  of  the  letters,  took  pleasure  in  directing  and  mstructing ; 
lilt,  from  being  proud  of  his  praise,  she  grew  fond  of  his  person.     Swift  was  then  about 
forty-seven,  at  an  age  when  vanity  is  stcongly  excited  by  the  amorous  attention  of  a^ 
young  woman.     If  il  be  said  that  Swift  should  have  checked  a  passion  which  he  never 
meant  to  gratify,  recourse  must  be  had  to  that  .extenuation  which  he  so  much  despised, 
**  men  are  but  men :"  perhaps,  however,  he  did  not  at  first  know  his  own  mind,  and,  as 
ht  represents  himself  was  undetermined.     For  his  admission  of  her  courtship,  and  his 
indulgence  of  her  iiopes  after  his  marriage  to  Stella,  no  other  honest  pl^i  can  be  found 
than  that  he  delayed  a  disagreeable  discovery  from  time  to  time,  dreading  the  immediate 
liursts  ^f  distoess»  and  watching  for  a  favourable  moment.    She  thought  herself  neg- 
lected, and  died  of  disappointment;  having  ordered  by  her  will  the  poem  to  be  pub* 
Hshed,  in  which  Cadenus  bad  proclaimed  her  excellence,  and  confessed  his  love.    The 
cfiect  jof  the  publication  :upon  the  dean  and  Stella  is  thus  related  by  Delany : 

**  I  have  good  reason  to  .believe  that  they  both  were  greatly  shocked  and  di6ti:essed 
(though  it  nay  be  differently)  upon  this  occasion.  The  dean  made  a'  tour  to  the 
sooth  of  Ireland,  for  about  two  months,  at  this  time,  to  dissipate  hb  thoughts,  and  give 
place  to  obloquy.  And  Stella  retired  (upon  the  earnest  invitation  of  the  owner)  to  the 
house  of  a  cheerful,  generous,  good  natured  friend  of  the  dean's,  whom^  she  always 
much  loved  and  honoured.  There  my  informer  often  saw  her;  and,  I  have  reason  to 
believe,  used .  his  utmost  end^vours.  to«  relieve^ .  suj^rt,  and  amuse  her,  in  this  ^d 
aituatioii. 

**  One  little  incident  he  told  me  of  on  that  occadon  J  tiiink  I  shall  never  forget  As 
ber  friend  was  aa  hospitable,  open  hearted  man,  well-belpved,  and  largely  acquainted, 
it  happenedone  day  that  some  gentlemen  dropt  in  to  dinner,  who  were  strapgers  to 
SleUa's  sitaatioa;  and  as  the  poc;m  of  Cadenus  and  Vanessa  was  then  the  general  topic 
of  conversation,  one  of  them  said,  '  surely  that  Vanessa  must  be  an  extraordinary 
woman,  tk^t  could  inspire  the 'dean  to  write  so  £nely  upon  her.'  Mrs.  Johnson  smiled, 
and  answered,  '  that  she  thought  that  point  not  quite  so  clefir;  for  it  was  well  known 
the  dean  could  write  finely  upon  a  broomstick." 

The  great  acquisition  of  esteem  and  influence  was  made  jby  the  Diiapier's  Letters 
io'  1724.  One  Wood,  of  Wolverhampton,  in  Staffordshire,  a  man  enterprising  and 
rapacious^  had,  as  is  said,  by  a  present  to  the  dutchess  of  Munster,  obtained  a  patent, 
empoweong  him  to  coin  one  hjundced  .and  eighty  thousand  pounds  of  halfpence  and  . 
fitfthings  for  the  kingdom  of  Irehmd,  in  jyirhicb  thece  was  a  very  inconvenient  and  em- 
b^rnttiUig4)a|X€ity  of  copper  coin ;  so  that  it  was  possible  to  ryn  in^debt  upon  the  credit 
ofa  piece  of  money ;  for  the  cook  or  keeper  of  an  alehouse  could  not  refuse  to  supply 
a  ^ntn  tbat  had  silver  in  his  hand,  and  the  bny^r  ivould  not  leave  his  money  without 


The  project  was  therefore  plausible.  The  scarcity,  which  was  already  great,  Wotjod 
took  <care  to  make  greater,  by. agents, who  gathered  up  the  old  half-pence;  and  >vas 
about ;to  turuilvs  brftts^9  gQld»4>y4K>ii^g:the  treasures  of  bis.new  mint  upon  Ii^pland ; 
when  Swift,  finding  that  the  vieUd  was  delmsed  to  an  enormous  .degree,  wrQte  letter^ 
m^.the  name  of  &!•  B*  Prapier^  to  show  the  folly  of  receiving  and  the  Dii9chief  tba^ 


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m  USE  OF  swift: 

5Siust  ^le,  hj  g!'.4ftg  ^d  aftd  siirtr  for  coin  woitli  perinpt  not  •'tiiini'  girl  ^  lli 
nominal  valne. 

The  nation  wa$  alarmed  ;  the  new  coin  was-oniveisaUj  refined ;  \mi  the  goTtroon  of 
Ireland  considered  resistance  to  the  kbg's  patent  as  bighl;  criminal;  aqd  oae  Whibfa^^ 
then  chief  justice,  who  had  tried  the  prioter  of  the  former  pamphlet,  and  seal  oot  tlM 
jnry  nine  tiroes,  tiO  h;  clamour  and  menaces  ^hey  wefe  frighted  into  a  specidl  vffdift» 
now  presented  the  Dmpier,  but  conld  not  prevail  on  the  grand  jury  to  find  the  hilL 

Lord  Carteret  and  the  privy  council  published  a  i^oelamatioii,  offmng  thrae  hnn-' 
dred' pounds  for  discovering  the  author  of  the  Fourth  Letter.'  Swift  Iia4  eoooeal^ 
himself  fi-om  his  printers,  and  tmsted  only  his  butleri  who  transcribed  the  paper.  The 
man,  iftimediately  after  the  appearance  of  the  proelanalion,  itralltd  (ma  tba  1 
^nd  staid  out  all  night  and  part  of  the  next  day.  There  was  reason  enoagh  im  i 
that  he  had  l>etrayed  hb  master  for  the  reward ;  but  he  eMM  bone«  and  the  ] 
dered  hhn  to  put  off  his  Kvery,  and  leave  the  boose ;  **  foi>»''  says  be»  '^  I  koov  tiiafr 
my  life  is  in  your  power,  and  I  wilt  not  bear,  out  of  fear,  eiHtet  yoar  apMlenoe  or  tm^^ 
ligence."  The  man  excused  his  fault  with  great  avbraission,  and'%iqged  Utol  ll»mq(hl 
be  confined  in  the  house  while  it  was  in  his  power  lo  endlmgtf  his  master;  but  thedcM* 
resolutely  turned  hhn  out,  without  taking  fkrther  notke  of  liim»  tiB  lbs  tsnn  of  ^  lls» 
information  had  expired,  and  then  received  hhn  agaiu.  8oonafWrw|»dsb»6iderMii' 
him  and  the  rest  of  hb  servants  mto  hb  presence,  ndtfaoot  teWtag  hk  inleBtioasy  aocli 
badfe  them  tsdce  notice  that  theh-  fellow-'Servant  was  no  longer  RbbM  tbt  b«tlor)-bait> 
that  hb  integrity  had  made  him  Mr.  Blakeney,  terger  of  st  AitriekV;  an  cfKtcmmhom^ 
income  was  between  thirty  and  forty  pounds  a  year ;  yet  he  still  continned  fesssanm- 
years  to  serve  liis  old  master  as  hb  botler ''. 

f^mh  was  known  from  tfab  tune  by  the  appeflntion  ^The  Dean«  Ht  washonouridli 
by  the  populace  as  the  champion,  patron,  and  ins^patitor  of  l^ehmd}  and^gahwtl  iwsli. 
power  as,  considered  both  in  its  extent  and  dufation,  seareefyany  man  ban  rnrsr  citf  ajoA' 
without  grcafer  weaMi  or  higher  station. 

He  was  from  thb  miportant  year  the  oraels  of  the  tiadSiSi  and  Ibte^iddlMrftm  nVU^ 
and  by  consequence  was  ftared  and  courted  by  idF to  wfamnrihe  Itfndness  s#the4fari4i»< 
or  the  populace  was  necessary.  The  Drapier  was  a  sign ;  the'  Drapier  was  a  b«diH  nad  > 
which  way  soever  the  ey^  or  the  ear  was  fumed,  sone'tsiMOs  were  fbawd  of  tbellinn^s 
gratitude  to-  the  Drapier.  « 

The  benefit  was  md^  greatt  he  bad  resetted  Irdind  firoma  v«ry*offiie«i««M«|( 
predatory  invasion ;  and  the  popukiHy  whidibe  hiKlgaiMd  hewasd^^eStfOrlUNpi 
by appesdng  forward  and  tc^&ni  on  every ooeasioir wbHe  tbe  pnhlfe htimai^mmxp* 
posed  to  be  involred.  Nor  did  he  modi  scttipl^io  boast Ms^JnlioMtfi  fm^^  mklM$ 
upon  some  attempts  to  teguhite  the  com,  arehMshop  Bonlter,  then  oQe'^^tbe  jMiossi- 
accused  him  of  exasperating  tfie  people,  be  exculpated  fakaself  by^  si^iag' '*  U'  I'tad* 
lifted  up  my  finger,  they  would  have  torn  you  to  {^eces." 

But  the  pleasare  (tf  popttlariry  was  seoftktemipi«d<by>*donMtli*tnliNQV.  Itt. 
Jdhnson,  whose  conversatfon  was  to Mnr  tbe^greal  soAftier  of^Mr 4to^<fifb^  bigauin-' 
the  ye^r  of  the  Drapier^  trmmphtd  dedibe;  andinrt^yeam  aUcmiiA^  mii4m  hmM^ 
whh  dckness,  tfiat  her  recoveiy  vras  'consldafed  is  hopetoit 

''Anaco(Hiattomewh4di£6erentfromtfcjiisgiTeabjlfr«8]^^  tU 


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Lira  OF  SWIFF.-  |57 

'  6wift  was  then  in  Eoghuidy  and  fa^d  beey  iknited  by  lord  Bolingbroke  to  pass  Iha 
wfftter  widi  him  m  Frapoe;  but  this  caU  of  calapiity  fastened  him  to  Ireland,  wher^ 
po^iaps  bis  predtoce  eoatribuied  to  restore  her  to  imperfect  and  tottering  health. 

H«  was  DOW  so  much  at  ease,  that  (1 727)  he  returned  to  England ;  where  he  collected 
three  volmoes  of  MisceHanits  m  cootjunction  with  Pope,  who  prefixed  a  querulous  an4 
tpologelical  pidace. 

This  important  year  sent  likewise  into  the  world  CluUiver's  Travels;  a  production 
so  new  and  strange*  that  it  filled  the  reader  wi^h  a  mingled  emotion  of  merriment  and 
amatement.  Tt  was  received  with  such  avidity,  that  the  price  of  the  first  edition  was 
taised  before  the  second  coiild  ha  made ;  it  was  read  by  the  high  and  the  low,  the 
learned  and  illitarate.  Criticism  was  for  a  white  lost  in  wonder ;  no  rules  of  judgment 
were  applied  to  a  book  written  in  open  defiance  of  truth  and  reguhirity.  But  when 
distinctions  cane  to  be  roadtf,  the  part  which  gave  the  least  pleasure  was  that  which 
describes  the  Flying  Island,  and  that  which  gave  most  disgust  must  be  the  history  of 
the  Honybnhams. 

While  Swift  was  oqjeyiflg  the  reputation  of  his  new  work,  the  news  of  the  king's 
death  arrived;  and  he  kissed  the  hands  of  the  new  king  and  queen  three  days  aftev 
theur  accession. 

•  By  Afi  quetUy  whaa  «be  was  pria^^s,  he  had  been  treated  with  some  distmctjon,  and 
was  wdl  vac^ifed  by  herm  ber  exaltation ;  but  whether  she  gave  hopes  which  she  never 
took  oara  tc  satisfyror  be  farmed  tspectatioBs  which  she  never  meant  to  raise,  the  event 
was^  4hdt  he  always  aftenvards  thought  on  her  with  malevolence,  and  particulariy 
charged  ber  with  breaking  bee  promise  of  some  Inedals  which  she  engaged  to  send  him. 

I  hmom  moi  whether  sbe  bad  do^  in  ber  turn,  some  reason  for  complaint  A  letter 
wiasseiit  ber,  not  so  much  entreating,  as  requiring,  her  patronage  of  Mrs.  Barber,  an 
ingenious  Irishwoman,  who  was  then  begging  subscriptions  for  her  Poems.  To  this 
kiter  was  aubsaribed  the  aame  of  Swift,  and  it  has  all  the  appearances  of  his  diction 
smd  ieptoneM;  bat  it  was  aot  written  m  his  hand,  and  had  some  little  inq[>roprieties. 

When  ha  was  ckniged  with  thu  letter,  he  bad  hold  of  the  inaccuracies,  and  urged 
Ihe  iaipffobabilily  of  the  tcensatioB;  but  aever  denied  it :  he  shuffles  between  coward*' 
ke  and  ranao^  and  taUsa  big  when  he  says  nothing  \ 

.  He  sesBit  desirous  enough  of  leeommenciBg  courtier,  and  endeavoured  tp  gam  the 
kiariness  of  Mia.  Howltfd^  Muc^ttberiag  what  Mrs*  Masham  had  performed  m  former 
tidMt;  b«t  his  flatteries  ware»  like  tiiose  of  other  wits,  unsuccessful;  the  lady  eith^ 
fsaated  ptmet^  or  had  no  ambitioii  of  poetical  iounortality. 

He  w«5  nAmi  ttoi  long  afteiwwds  by  a  fit  of  giddiness,  and  agjun  beard  of  the 
lirhatiss  md  shu^pet  ^  Mn»  Jobas^Ma  lie  then  left  the  bouse  of  Pope,  as  k  seems, 
mAwHP^mhcm&mmy^  (hik^  "Ihdt  tw(o  sack  friends  cannot  live  together;''  and  did 
Ml  mUtM  to  hiaa  till  he  6mnd  binMolf  at  Chester. 

He  returned  to  a  home  of  sowow;,  poor  SuUa  was  smkmg  mto  the  gmve,  and»aftisr 
alanfaiiha<  da^ay  of  about  two  mim^  died  in  her  for^-fouxth  year,  on  Januaiy  28, 
I7f^   Jlov  siOfBh  he  wsihod  ber  life,  bit  papers  shoiv;  nor  can  it  be  doubted  d^^^ 
daittded  the  dfatt  ^  bet  wboaa  h»  lov»d  most,  aggravated  by  the  eofisciousness  that 
Tiirynff  hnd  hatttmud  it. 

•  It  btmtjuttice  to  the  dfltn's  memory,  to  refer  toMr<«MtiilaMNto#«f  hUklnQiattltifalq^ 
«M  the  life  or  Swift,  p.  458.    R. 


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»5i  L(FEOPSWlrt<, 

Beauty;  ana  the  po^er  of  pleasing,  the  greatest  external  advantages  tbit  wonlea  <M 
desire  or  p<»sess,  were  fatal  to  the  unfortunate  Stella.  The  man  whom  she  had  the 
Ittisfortune  to  love  was,  as  Delany  observes,  fond  of  sbgnlaiity,  and  desirous,  to  make 
k  modie  of  happiness  for  hinself,  different  from  the  general  course  of  things  and  order 
tf(  Pi'ovidence.  From  the  time  of  her  arrival  in  Ireland  he  seems  resolved  to  keep  hef 
in  his  power,  and  therefore  hindered  a  match  sufficiently  advantageous,  by  accumulating 
iinreasonable  demands,  and  prescribing  conditions  that  could  nqt  be  performed.  While 
she  was  at  her  own  disposal  he  did  not  consider  his  possession  as  secure ;  resentment, 
iimbition,  or  Caprice^  might  separate  them ;  he  was  therefore  resolved  to  make  **  assort 
ance  double  sure,"  and  to  appropriate  her  by  a  private  marriage,  to  which  he  bad 
annexed  the  expectation  of  all  the  pleasures  of  perfect  friendship,  without  the  uneasioesa 
of  conjugal  restraints  Bqt  with  this  state  poor  Stella  was  not  satisfied ;  she  never  was 
treated  as  a  wife,  and  to  the  world  she  had  the  appearance  of  a  mistress.  She  lived 
Sullenly  on,  in  hope  that  in  time  he  would  own  and  receive  her ;  but  the  time  did  not 
come  till  the  change  of  his  manners  and  deprivation  of  his  mind  made  her  tell  hini 
When  he  offered  to  actmowleitlge  her,  that  ''  it  was  too  Idte*"  She  then  gave  up  herself 
to  sorrowful  resentment^  and  died  under  the  tyranny  g(  him,  by  whom  she  was  in  the 
highest  degree  loved  and  honoured. 

What  Were  h^  claims  to  this  eccentric  tenderness,  by  which  the  laws  of  itoture  were 
violated  to  retain  her,  curiosity  will  inquire;  but  how  shall  it  be  gratitied  ?  Swift  was  a 
lover ;  his  testimony  may  be  suspected.  Delany  and  the  Irish  tew  with  Swift's  eyes» 
and  thei^fore  add  little  confirmation.  That  she  was  virtuous,  beautiful,  and  el^;aD^ 
in  a  very  high  degree,  such  admiration  from  such  a  lover  makes  it  very  probable ;  but 
she  had  not  much  literature,  for  she  could  not  speU  her  own  language ;  and  of  her  wit, 
so  loudly  vaunted,  the  smart  sayings  which  Swift  himself  has  collected  afford  no  sf^en^ 
did  specimen.  ^ 

The  reader  of  Swift's  Letter  to  a  Lady  on  her  Marriage,  may  be  allowed  to' doubt 
whether  his  opinion  of  female  excellence  ought  implicitly  to  be  admitted ;  for,  if  his 
general  thoughts  on  women  were  such  as  he  exhibits,  a  veiy  little  sense  in  a  lady 
would  enrapture,  and  a  very  little  virtue  would  astonish  him.  Stella's  supmnacy, 
therefore,  was  perhaps  only  local ;  she  tvas  great,  because  her  associates  were  little. 

In  some  Remarks  lately  published  on  the  Life  of  Swift,  his  marriage  is  mentioned  as 
fabulous,  or  doubtful:  but,  alas!  poor  Stella,  as  Dr.  Madden  told  me,  related  her  melan- 
choly story  to  Dr.  Sheridan,  when  he  attended  her  as  a  clergyman  to  prepare  her  fwc 
death;  and  Delany  mentions  it  not  with  doubt,  but  only  with  regret  Swift  heve^ 
mentioned  her  without  a  sigh.  The  rest  of  his  life  was  spent  m  Ireland,  in  a  country 
to  which  t)Ot  even  power  almost  despotic,  nor  flattery  almost  idokKtrous,  could  reconcile 
liim.  He  sometimes  vrished  to  visit  England,  but  always  foimd  some  reason  of  delqr. 
He  tells  Pope,  in  the  decline  of  life,  that  he  hopes  once  more  to  see  him :  **  but  if  not^" 
says  he,  **  we  must  part,  as  all  human  beings  have  parted." 

After  the  death  of  Stella,  his  benevolence  was  contracted,  and  his  severity  exaspera^ 
ed;  he  di-ove  his  acquaintance  from  his  table,  and  wondered  whyhe  wasdes^Hed. 
'but  he  continued  his  attention  to  the  public,  and  wrote  firom  time  to  time  such  direo 
tions,  admonitions,  or  censures,  as  the  exigency  of  afiain,  in  his  opinion,'made  proper; 
fpd  nothing  fell  £rom  bis  pen  in:vain. 


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LIFE  OF  SWIFT.  359 

'  to  «  short  poem  on  tbe  PresbyfeiiaDS,  ivhom  he  always  regarded  with  detestatioD, 
he  bestowed  one  stricture  upon  Bettesworth*  a  lawyer  eminent  for  his  insolence  to  the 
dergy,  which,  from  very  considerable  reputation,  brought  him  into  immediate  and 
uohrersal  contempt.  Bettesworth,  enraged  at  his  disgrace  and  loss,  went  to  Swift,  and 
demanded  whether  he  was  tbe  author  of  that  poem  ?  "  Mr.  Bettesworth,"  answered 
he,  '*  I  was  iu  my  youth  acquainted  with  great  lawyers,  who,  knowing  my  disposition 
to  satire,  advised  me,  that  if  any. scoundrel  or  blociihead  whom  I  had  lampooned  should 
ask,  *  Are  you  the  author  of  this  paper]'  I  should  tell  him  that  1  was  not  the  author* 
and  therefore  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Bettesworth,  that  I  am  not  the  author  of  these  lines. '^ 

Bettesworth  was  so  little  satisfied  with  this  account,  that  he  publicly  professed  hb 
resolution  of  a  violent  and  corporal  revenge ;  but  the!  nhabitants  of  St.  Patrick's  district 
erot>6died  themselves  in  the  dean's  defence.  Bettesworth  declared  in  parliament,  thtft 
Swift  had  deprived  him  of  twelve  hundred  pounds  a  year. 

Swift  was  popular  a  while  by  another  mode  of  beneficence.  He  set  aside  some  hun- 
dreds to  l>e  lent  in  small  sums  to  the  poor,  from  fiv«  shillings,  I  think,  to  five  pounds. 
He  took  no  interest,  and  only  required  that,  at  repayment,  a  small  fee  should  be  given 
to  the  accomptant:  but  he  required  that  the  day  of  promised  payment  should  be  exactly 
*kept  A  severe  and  punctilious  temper  is  ill  qualified  for  transactions  with  the  poor: 
the  day  was  often  broken,  and  the  loan  was  not  repaid.  This  might  have  been  easily 
foreseen ;  but  for  this  Swift  had  made  no  provision  of  patience  or  pity.  He  ordered 
his  debtors  to  be  sued.  A  severe  creditor  has  no  popular  character;  what  then  was 
lik^y  to  be  said  of  hhn  who  employs  the  catchpoll  under  the  appearance  of  charity  t 
The  clamour  agamst  him  was  loud,  and  the  resentment  of  the  populace  outrageous ; 
he  was  therefore  forced  to  drop  his  scheme,  and  own  the  folly  of  expecting  punctuallity 
from  the  poor  K 

His  asperity  continually  increasing,  condemned  him  to  solitude ;  and  hb  resentment 
Off  solitude  sharpened  hb  asj^rityJ  He  was  not,  however,  totally  deserted ;  some  men 
of  learning,  and  some  women  of  elegance,  often  vbited  him ;  and  he  wrote  ftom  time 
'to  time  either  verse  or  prose :  y>f  his  verses  he  ^irillbigly  gave  copies,  and  is  supposed  to 
'have  felt  no  discontent  when  he  saw  them  printed.  His  favourite  maxim  was,  **  Vive 
la  bagatelle ;"  he  thought  trifles  a  necessary  part  of  life,  and  perhaps  found  {hem  ne- 
cessary to  ^himself.  It  seems  impossible  to  him  to  be  idle,  and  hb  disorders  made  it 
dfficuh  or  dangerous  to  be  long  seriously  studious,  or  laboriously  diligent.  The  love  of 
eas^  b  always  gammg  upon  age,  and  he  had  one  temptation  to  petty  amusements 
peculiar  to  himself;  whatever  he  did  he  was  sure  to  hear  applauded ;  and  such  was  hisy 
predominance  over  all  that  approached,  that  all  their  applauses 'were  probably  sincere. 
He  that  b  much  flattered  soon  learns  to  flatter  himself;  we  are  commonly  taught  our 
'da^  by  fear  or  shame;  and  how  can  they  act  upon  the  man  who  hears  nothing  but  hb 
'ownphBsest 

As  hb  years  increased,  hb  fits  of  giddiness  and  deafness  grew  more  ftequeqt,  and  hb 
deafness  made  conversation  difficult;:  they  grew  likewise  more  severe,  till  in  1 736,  as  he  was 
^writing  a  poem' catled  The  Legion  Club,  he>as  seized  with  a  fit  so  painful^  and  so  long 

^  This  acoouDt  is  contradicted  by  Mr.  Sheridan,  who  with  great  warmth  asserts,  from  his  own  know- 
ledge, that  there  was  not  one  syllable  of  truth  in  this  whole  account  from  the  beginning  to  the  en^. 
See  life  of  ISwift,  edit.  1784;  p.  532.    H 


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96Q  UPE  OF  SWIFT. 

^coDtimied;  that  he  DeTer  after  thought  it  proper  to  attempt  any  vodi  of  Iboi^  or 
iabour. 

He  was  alwa^fs  careful  of  his  money,  and  was  therefore  no  liberal  enteitaiDer ;  bttt 
was  less  frugal  of  his  wine  than  of  his  meat.  When  his  friends  of  either  set  came  to 
him,  in  expectation  of  a  dinner,  his  custom  was  to  give  every  one  a  shilling,  tliat  they 
might  please  themselves  with  their  provision.  At  last  his  avarice  grew  too  poweifiil 
for  his  kindness ;  he  would  refuse  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  in  Ireland  no  man  vi^  whem 
he  cannot  drink. 

Having  thus  excluded  conversation,  and  desisted  from  study,  he  had  neither  business 
nor  amusement ;  for  having,  by  some  ridiculous  re3olution,  or  mad  vow,  detenniped 
never  to  wear  spectacles,  he  could  make  little  use  of  books  in  his  later  years :  his  ideas 
therefore,  being  neither  renovated  by  discourse,  nor  increased  by  reading,  wore  gr^ubi- 
ally  away,  and  leA  his  mind  vacant  to  the  vexations  of  the  hour,  tiU  at  last  his  aog^ 
was  heightened  into  madness. 

He  however  permitted  one  book  to  l>e  published,  which  had  been  the  production  of 
former  years ;  Polite  Conv^sation,  which  appeared  in  1738.  The  Directions  for  Ser- 
vants was  printed  soon  after  his  death.  These  two  performances  show  a  mind  iooea- 
santly  attentive,  and,  when  it  was  not  employed  upon  great  thiqgs»  busy  wi|b  mimile 
occurrences.  It  is  apparent  that  he  must  have  hai)  the  habit  of  ooti^g  whatever  |be  ob- 
served ;  for  such  a  number  of  particulars  could  never  have  hem  mei^M  by  Ifm 
power  of  recollection. 

He  grew  more  violent,  and  bis  mental  powers  declined  tiU(l741)it  was  foiind 
necessary  that  legal  guardians  should  be  appointed  of  his  person  and  fortune*  He  mm 
lost  distinction.  His  madness  was  compounded  of  rage  and  fttuity.  The  last  ftwae 
that  he  knew  was  that  of  Mrs.  Whiteway;  and  her  he  ceased  to  know  in  a  little  tune* 
His  meat  was  brought  him  cut  into  mouthfuUs  but  be  would  never  toudi  it  while  tbe 
servant  sSai^>  and  at  last,  aft^r  it  had  ^opd  perhaps  an  boor,  would  eat  it  w^kipg;  for 
J}f$  ^ptipued  his  old  habft,  and  was  on  his  feet  ten  hours  a  day* 

ISext  y^ar  (1742)  he  had  an  inflammatiou  in  his  left  eye,  which^welled  it  tQ  the  cine 
pf  an  egg,  with  boils  in  other  parts  ;  he  was  kept  long  waking  with  the  pain,  a;nd  was 
not  Qasijy  restrained  by  five  attendants  from  tearing  put  hjs  ^ye. 

The  tum9ttr  at  hist  subsided ;  aiid  a  sbprt  Interval  of  reafon  ensmng,  iq  wbi^i  he 
knew  bis  physjqi^  apd  bis  family,  gave  hopes  of  his  recoveiy ;  but  in  a  few  d^yv  be 
«unk  into  a  lethargic  stupidity,  motionless,  heedless^  apd  ^leechless.  But  it  is  «aid,  that, 
aftec  a  year  of  to^l  silence,  when  bis  hpusekeq)er,  on  tbip  dpth  of  Npvembei;  tokji  bi^i 
tb%t  |he  umal  l)onfires  and  iljunnnatipns  were  pi«|win|[  to  cdebrate  hit  Milhrdigr,  h^ 
mu^^^»  V  Jt  is  all  folly;  they  h^  better  let  it  alone*" 

}\  i^  remembered*  thiU  be  afterwards  q[K>ke  npw  and  then*  9r  ga^  apme  jntinurtimi 
of  a  meanmg;  but  at  last  sunk  into  perfect  silence,  whkb  contmued  till  al^Qttt  tb^  end 
of  Qctobei:,  1744>  when,  m  hif  ^yenty-eighth  y^ar,  be  fn^tm^  viAput «  *f^ai^ 

WBra  Swift  is  camidered  as  an  author,  it  is  jufH  to  estimnte  bit  ppvm  1^  tMr 
effects.  In  the  reign  of  queen  Anne  he  turned  the  stream  of  popolari^  agamsC  the 
Whigs,  andl  must  be  confessed  to  have  dictated  for  a  tiQie  the  political  opinioQS  o^tl|e 
English  nation.    In  the  suoceedmg  reign  he  delivered  la^lan^  ftpin  pli^idf  r  ai^  9HW- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


I^E  OF  SWIFT.  9$l 

jioo  ;*  asd  shoved  HM  wit,  confederated  wilb  truth,  i|ad  ^Mic|i  ^oi;?ce  ^s  upthoiity  was 
luaUe  to  resist.  He  said  truly  of  himself,  iitifX  Ixeland  "^  ii^  bis  d^htpr."  It  was 
jfromllie  tiinewhen  he  first  begao  to  patrppize  Ahe  Irish,  that  tb^  may  date  their  richos 
juad  prosperity.  He  taught  them  first  to  know  their  own  interest,  their  weight,  and 
their  «treogtli,  and  gave  .them  spirit  to  asseiit  that  equality  with  their  felloW'Suliye^ 
to  which  they  have  ever  since  been  makmg  vigorous  advances,  and  to  clfu^i  tlu^e 
rights  nvhich  ^they  have  at  last  established.  Nor  can  they  be  charged  with  ingiati- 
lude  to  their  bienef4Gtor;  for  they  reverenced  bun  as  a  guac4i^>  ^and  obeyed  him  as  a 
dactaitor. 

In  his  works  be  has  given  very  difierent  specunens  both  of  sentiments  add  expressioo. 
ills  Tale  of  a  Tub  has  little  resemblance  to  his  other  pieces.  It  exhibit^  a  vehemfoce 
and  rapidity  of  mind,  a  copiousness  of  images,  and  vivacity  of  diction,  such  as  he  after* 
waid^  never  possessed,  or  never  exerted.  It  is  of  a  n^ode  so  distinct  and  pfBodjar,  that 
it  must  be  considered  by  itself;  what  is  true  of  that,  b  not  true  of  aoy  thi^g  els^  which 
he  has  written. 

In  his  other  works  b  found  an  equable  tenour  of  easy  language,  which  nti^r  trickle 
than  flows.  Hb  delight  was  iu  simplicity.  That  he  has  in  hb  works  no  metaphor,  as 
ba^  been  said,  b  not  true ;  but  bis  few  metaphon  seem  to  be  received  rather  by  ne- 
ceasvly  than  choice.  }ia  studied  purity ;  and  though  perhaps  jail  hb  stric|tiu«s  i^ne  not 
jeimct,  yet  it  b  not  often  that  sohsdspis  cimi  be  found ;  and  whoever  depends  on  hb 
authority  may  generally  conclude  hiu^elf  safe.  Hb  senteneies  are  never  too  much 
dilated  or  contracted ;  and  it  will  not  be  ^^sy  to  find  fipy  embarrassment  in  the  con|^ 
plication  of  hb  clauses,  any  inconsequence  in  hb  connections,  or  abruptn^  i^  hb  transi- 
tions. 

Hb  style  was  well  suited  to  hb  thoughts,  which  are  never  subtilised  by  nice  H?si|\iis|- 
tioos,  decorated  by  sparkling  conceits,  elevated  by  ambitious  sentences,  or  varieg^Oed 
bf  fiur-sough^  learning.  He  pays  no  fcourt  to  the  passions ;  be  excites  nether  surprise 
lE^  admiration ;  he  always  understands  bim^lf ;  and  hb  reader  abrays  undersl^uids 
him ;  the  peruser  of  Swift  wants  little  previous  knowledge ;  it  will  be  sufficient  that  bfi 
is  acq^ntpd  with  common  words  and  common  things :  he  b  neither  required  to  mount 
^levations^  nor  to  explore  profimdities;  hb  passage  b  always  on  a  level,  along  si>|i^ 
groond,  without  a^ierities,  withput  obstCMctiqn. 

Tfab  ea^  and  safe  conveyance  of  me^nipg  it  was  Swift's  desire  to  attain,  ^ind  for 
having  atUin<Bd  he  deserves  pr^.  For  purpose  merely  didactic,  when  something  i| 
Uk  he  tQl4  that  was  not  known  before,  i|  b  th^  best  mode ;  but  ^gaipst  th^t  ioatteptioii 
hy  wlpcb  known  truths  are  ^ufiered  to  lie  neglectedi  it  makes  no  provisipp;  it  ifistiucM, 
M  4mi  not  persumle. 

By  hb  politkal  educaticm  he  was  associated  with  the  Whigs;  tn^t  kt  de^^rt^  thei|i 
1^1^  th^diBHsrl^^hpir  pimcq^y^  without  ruqning  h^to  the  coi4o|iy.^x^e|ne: 
h$  CQRlmqfHl.lhmigh^vl  bJsUfj^to  letaifitfi^diq^p^ilioi)  whicbhfia^lMip  the  Chi|ricb- 
ofrl^QlglaiH}  UfLt^  of  thhddug  oqovBioqfy  with  t^  Whlgf  of  the  s^at^Q,  and  wiM^  ^ 
Tiwitiofthachpiiobr 

He  wai  a  Amimv^  yn|ioi|f4ly  9efi|(Nis;  hcf  d^fif^tbe  prfffpi^ri^  fm4  ipamlain^ 
theh$f(wr,c«f  thectargy;  of  th^  ^^pitm  h#  ##  |io|  ivlsli  tp  i«l^^ 
iHrt  hi  4iV0f<4  thw  ti^^fC^^hP^^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


i6i  LIFE  OF  swift; 

To  his  duty  as  dean  he  was  very  attentive.  He  managed  the  revennes  ef  hu  thnttk, 
with  exact  (economy;  and  it  is  said  hy  Delany,  that  more  money  was,onder  his  diree- 
iion,  laid  out  in  repairs,  than  had  ever  been  in  the  same  time  since  its  first  ereHioD. 
Of  his  choir  he  was  eminently  careful;  and,  though'  he  neither  loved  nor  understood 
music,  took  care  that  all  the  sbgers  were  well  qualified,  admitting  none  without  the 
testittiony  of  skilfiil  judges. 

In  his  church  he  restored  the  practice  of  weekly  communion,  and  di^bated  the 
sacramental  elements  in  the  most  solemn  and  devout  manner  with  his  own  hand.  He 
came  to  church  every  morning,  preached  commonly  in  his  turn,  and  attended  the 
evening  anthem,  that  it  might  not  be  negligently  {Performed. 

He  read  the  service,  *'  rather  with  a  strong,  nervous  voice,  than  in  a  graeefiil  man- 
ner; his  voice  was  sharp  and  high-toned,  rather  than  harmonious." 

He  entered  upon  the  clerical  state  wiih  hope  to  excel  in  preaching ;  bnt  complained, 
that,  from  the  time  of  his  political  controversies,  **  he  could  only  preach  pamfihlets.** 
This  censure  of  himself,  if  judgment  be  made  from  those  sennons  which  have  been 
printed,  was  unreasonably  severe. 

The  suspicions  of  his  irreligion  proceeded  in  a  great  measure  from  hb  dread  of  fayp<>- 
crisy ;  instead  of  wbhmg  to  seem  better,  he  delighted  in  seeming  worse  than  he  was. 
He  went  in  London  to  early  prayers,  lest  he  should  be  seeit  at  church ;  he  read  prayeis 
to  his  iservants  every  morning  with  such  dexterous  secrecy,  that  Dr.  Delany  was  sis 
months  m  his  house  l>efore  he  knew  it.  He  was  not  only  carefiil  to  hide  the  good  which 
he  did,  but  willingly  incurred  the  suspicion  of  evil  which  he  did  not.  He  fc^rgot  what 
himself  had  formerly  asserted,  that  hypocrisy  is  less  mischievous  than  open  impietj. 
Dr.  Delany,  with  all  his  zeal  for  his  honour,  has  justly  condemned  this  part  of  his  cha- 
racter. 

The  person  of  Swift  had  not  many  recommendations.  He  had  a  kind  of  muddy 
complexion,  which,  though  he  washed  himself  with  oriental  scrupulosity,  did  not  look 
dear.  He  had  a  countenance  sour  and  seVere,  which  he  seldom  softened  l^  an^  ap- 
pearance of  gaiety.    He  stubbornly  resisted  any  tendency  to  laughter. 

To  his  domestics  he  was  naturally  rough ;  and  a  man  of  a  rigorous  temper,  with 
that  vigilance  of  minute  attention  which  his  works  discover,  must  have  been  a  master 
that  few  could  l>ear.  That  he  was  disposed  to  do  his  servants  good,  on  hnportant  occa- 
sions, b  no  great  mitigation ;  benefaction  can  be  but  rare,  and  tyrannic  peevishness  b 
'perpetual.  He  did  not  spare  the  servants  of  others.  Once;  when' he  dined  alode  with 
the  eari  of  Orrery,  he  said  of  one  that  waited  in  the  room,  ''That  man  has,  since  we 
sat  to  the  table,  committed  fifteen  faults."  What  the  faults  were,  lord  Ohei^,  from 
whom  I  heard  the  story,  had  not  been  attentive  enough  to  discover.  My  nnn^ber  naj 
perhaps  not  l>e  exact 

In  his"  (economy  he  practised  a  peculiar  and  offensive  parsnnony,  without  disguise  or 
apology.  The  practice  of  saving  being  once  necessary,  became  habitual,  aod'grew 
jfitM  ridiculous,  and  at  last  detestable.  "'But  hb  avarice  though  it  might 'exdude 
pleasure,  was  never  suffered  to  encroach  upon  hb  virtue.  He  >ras  frugal  by  indina- 
tion,  but  liberal  by  principle ;' and  if  the 'phrpose  to  which  he^destined'hb  little  accu- 
mulations l>e^remembered,  with  'hb  di^bution  of  occasional  ch^Urity,  it 'virill  perhaps 
appear,  that  he  only  liked  one  mode  of  expense  better^ban'anoAer,  and  saved  fneielf 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


UFE  OP  SWIFT.  S6S 

akbi  he  miglit  have  somethiDg  to  give.  He  did  not  grow  rich  by  injtfiing  his  sitecessorg^ 
but  left  both  Laracor  and  the  deanery  more  valuable  than  he  found  them.— Widi  all 
this  talk  of  his  covetousness  and  generosity,  it  should  be  remembered,  that  he  waa 
never  rich.  The  revenue  of  his  deanery  was  not  much  more  than  seven  hundred  a 
year. 

His  beneficence  was  not  graced  with  tenderness  or  civility;  he  relieved  without  pity, 
and  assbted  without  kindness ;  so  that  those  who  were  fed  by  him  could  hardly  love 
bim. 

He  made  a  rule  to  himself  to  give  but  one  juece  at  a  time,  and  therefore  always 
stored  his  pocket  with  coins  of  different  value. 

Whatever  be  did,  he  seemed  willing  to  do  in  a  manner  peculiar  to  himsdf,  without 
sufficiently  considering,  that  singularity,  as  it  implies  a  contempt  of  the  general  pnu^ce* 
is  a  kind  of  defiance  which  justly  provokes  the  hostility  of  ridicule ;  he^  therefore, 
who  indulges  peculiar  habits,  is  worse  than  others,  if  he  be  not  better. 
Of  his  humour,  a  story  told  by  Pope  *®  may  afford  a  spedmen. 
**  Dr.  Swift  has  an  odd,  blunt  way,  that  is  mistaken  by  strangers  for  ill  nature. — ^Tis 
so  odd,  that  there's  no  describing  it  but  by  facts.  I'll  tell  you  one  that  first  comes  uito 
tny  head.  One  evening,  Gay  and  I  went  to  see  him:  you  know  how  intimately  we 
were  all  acquainted.  On  our  coming  in,  *  Heyday^  gentlemen,  (says  the  doctor)  whaf  s 
the  meaning  of  this  vint?  How  came  you  to  leave  the  great  lords  that  you  are  so 
fond  of,  to  come  hither  to  see  a  poor  dean!' — *  Because  we  would  rather  see  you 
than  any  of  them/-^<  Ay,  any  one  that  did  not  know  so  well  as  I  do  might  beheve  you. 
But  since  you  are  come,  I  must  get  some  supper  fdr  you,  I  suppose.' — *-  No,  doctoi^ 
we  have  supped  already/ — *  Supped  already!  that's  unpossible!  why/tis  not  eight 
o'clock  yet. — ^That's  very  strange ;  but  if  you  had  not  supped,  I  must  have  got  some* 
thing  for  you. — Let  me  see,  what  should  I  have  had?  A  couple  of  lobsters;  ay,  that 
would  have  done  very  well ;  two  shillings — ^tarts;  a  shilling ;  but  you  will  drmk  a  glass 
of  wine  with  lAe,  though  you  supped  so  much  before  your  usual  time  only  to  spare  my 
pocketT-^'  No,  we  had  rather  talk  with  you  than  drink  with  you.' — *  But  if  you  had 
supped  with  me,  as  in  all  reason  you  ought  to  have  done,  you  must  then  have  diank 
with  me.-^A  bottle  of  wine,  two  shillings — two  and  two  is  four,  and  one  is  five;  just 
two  and  siipence  a-piece.  There,  Pope,  there's  half-a-crown  for  you,  and  there's 
another  for  you»  sn* ;  for  I  won't  save  any  thing  by  •  you,  I  am  determined.'-r-Thit 
was  all  said  and  done  with  his  usual  seriousness  on  such  occasions;  and,  in  spite  of 
every  thing  we  could  say  to  the  contrary,  he  actually  obliged  us  to  take  the  moneyi* 
In  the  intercourse  of  familiar  life,  he  mdulged  his  disposition  to  petulance  and>sar» 
cosra,  and  thought  himself  injured  if  the  licentiousness  of  his  raillery,  the  freedom  of 
hi^  censures,' or  the  petulance  of  his  frolics^  was  resented 'or  repressed.  :  He^ predomi- 
nated over- hb  companions  with  very  high  ascendancy,  and  probaUy«would.bear  none 
over  whom  he  could  not  predominate.  To  give  bun  advice  was,  in. the  style  ot  his 
fneM  Delaoy,  **  to  venture  toispeak  torhim."  This  customary  superiority  soon,  grew 
too 'delicate  for  truth;  and  Swift,  with  all;  his.  penetiatioD^.  allowed  himself  to^be  de> 
ji^ted^ith  low  flattery. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


Ml  JOfEOPSWRT. 


43m  attiMlmhA  «MiBiiBa»]M.liAitua%ftffectf  a  tt^k  of  mmffaKt,mti'4ttMik 
ffather  tfias  fiinniiiks.  This  «iithoritttii«e  asd  iwi§Mtfiial  hngnagf  be  expected  iorkt 
inaoeiined  as Av^peevliMr  BKKle  of  joeolarky :  but  be  apparantfj  AaUered  bis  4>wu  airo* 
^anee  by.aa  wnwr<  i«peBoii8Bees»«i  vfaicb  be  was  irooioal  «Bly  *olbe  resentAdy^aad 
to  the  submissive  sufiicieiitly  serious. 

ile  told  atones  with  gitat  feiicitj)f»  aod  delighted  m  doing  what  be  boew  Umsetf  to 
4o.weU;  he  vas  IhaKefore  captivated  by  Ibe  respeotfiil  silasce  of  a  steady  bsteoec;  and 
told  the  same  tales  too  ofteo. 

He  did  not,  bowaver,  ^huBi  Ibe  right  of  talkibg  aloae;  for  it  was  Us  rule,  when  be 
bad  spokeiva  minute^  to  give  room  by  a  paiise  for  any  other  speaker.  Of  tiaw,  oo  aV 
oaeasian^  be  wmmi  aaaci4)ampiitw»  and  knew  the  mioates  required  to  every  eonunoe 
cpention. 

itoDay  be  jasUy  suppaacd  dbat  tbare  was  in  his  coBEversatku],  what  appears  so  fre> 
quently  in  hb  leHen^  an  nActsAkin^  Ainuliarity  with  tbegreat/aod  ambition  of 
momentaiy  equality  soagbt  aad  eiyoyed  by  the  ne^ect  of  those  eeremoaies  which 
custom  bm  eitaUisbad  as  ibe  baniavs  bttwosn  one  order  of  society  and  another. 
This  IransgMssioo  of  irespalaijly  was  by  bonsdf  and  hb  adouaers  lenned  greatiiess  of 
aauL  But  a  gseat  miod  djsdsjos  to  bold  any  thhig  by  courtesy,  and  therefore  never 
usurps  wkit  a  laiwfnl clpUnMit  may  take  awayi  He  tiiat  encroaches  on  another's  dig^uty. 
fputs  bimaelf  10  bis  powirr;  bejs  aitbar  Jrepelied  with  bclfdess  Kidigtttty»  or  endured  by 
deroeaey^nd  coadeacenskNi* 

.  Of  Svrift's  geaeiai  babita  of  Ibioking*  if  bis  letters  can  be  supposed  k>  affbid  any 
fsMtmcef  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  aitber  loved  or  envied.  He  saesas  .to-bave  wasted 
IMmia  dtsoontent,  by  tibe  mge ct  mgleeled  pride*  and  ibe  langnisbmeat  of  iinsalhfied 
desM.  Ha  is  q«eHilou9  and  iastklious,  arrogant  and. malignant;  be  searely  qiaaks  aif 
bimsi^  bnt  wilb  indignant  IsMnentalionii^  or  of  othors  but  with  iasoleni  superiority  wbtn 
lie  is  gay,  and  anib  aagiy  oaaiMpt  when  he  is  gloomy.  Fram  the  letters  Ibot  pass 
Mween  Um  and  Bc^pe  it  mgbfc  \m  in&rred  that  they,  with  Arfaalbnolwnd  Gay,  bwd 
iagromed  att  Aha  nndenftanding  wd  virtne  of  mankinds  thatthak  merits <Uad Ibe 
woiid ;  or  that  tbene  was  no  bo|^  of  more.  They  show  the  age  involved  ift4i$rknea% 
ami  4iade  the  pidkswe  with  soUen  emulation. 

When  tb^  q^aeiai's  de^  dcove  Um  into  Irelaod,  he  mighl  be  allowed  to  regret  6r 
« tkne  the  iWtevacptian  of  bis  views^  the  eatinaliao  of  bis  h^pes,  and  bis  Section  ftonr 
gay  seenes,  nnportani  amploymeni*  and  splendid  fiiendsbips;  but  whnn  tiam  bad  ana- 

fldioalousbacattse  they  were  nselasfc    Bot  qnendnawifan  was  now  gwwni  hahilnaV  and 
he  eiiad  out  when  be  probably  bad  ceased  to  leeL    Hh  rahsniad  wailiags  prtimadfil 
BobngbrokA  that  ha  was  laidlly  willing  to  i|ah  bb  deaweiy  isr  an  Baiglish  pa^ 
Solingbiwkapfwcondattaidieiig^wbishwv  1^^  Swift  still  lalaioad  the 

yieasafe  of  eonybuaing. 

The  gte^lssl  diAcalty  that  oecars,  in  aoalyaing  bis  tkmmtAm,  is.ta  diicpnr  iQr 
^at  depravity  of  iMrilaet  ba  took  Mgbt  fa  mvalviag  idcM^  fiEolB  wb^ 
other  mmd  shrinks  with  disgust.    The  ideas  of  pleasure,  even  whoa  pimiwil«mQriali- 
ctt  the  imagmation ;  but  what  has  duease,  deformity,  and  filth,  upon  which  the  thoughts 
can  be  aUurad  to  dweUt    Ddany  is  willfaf  to  iUhk  that  Swift's  mhid  was  not  muck 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


iwn  OP  swiiT^  9«s 

tMBlMl  ^itb  Ait grM0  coftuftfen  betoe  Ui  longvUl^ tp  Fo|».  IIe><iQ8S.iK>t considai 
how  he  degrades  biji  hero,  by  making  him  at  fifty-nine  the  pufiil  oi  iwfilui^f  and 
liafak  lo  tht  waligBaBt  isflueiM^  ^  an  aaceo^aal  niuA  Bat^th^ truth  iv that OuUnrer 
had  detciflied  hi»  YaiMoa  befHetbe visit ;  and 'ba that* had fermad thos^  iraagpa  had 
VQflbaig  fUlby  to  learn* 

I  have  here  given  the  cliaracter  of  Swift  as  he  exhibits  himself  to  my  payc^ptiop^  but 
BOW  1ft  another  be  heaed  who  knew  him  batltr.  Div  Debmy  after  lopg.  acquaiataire, 
doaccibet  bim  to  lord  Orrery  ivtbese  tevms : 

"  My  locd,  when  you  comder  Swift's  siofriar^  peculiar,  and  ommI  ¥aric|piled-veiBi 
of  «it^  aWa^s  ioteodcd  rightly*  aWioOih  no|  alwayt  so  n^ltly  directed;  daligjbtftd  sa 
many  instances,  and  salutary  even  where  it  is  most  offensive ;  when  you  consider  hit 
strict  truth,  hb  fortitude  in  resisting  oppression  and  arbitrary  power ;  his  fidelity  io 
friendship ;  his  sincere  love  and  zeal  for  religion ;  his  uprightness  in  making  right  reso- 
lutions, and  hb  steadmess  in  adhering  to  them ;  hb  care  of  hb  church,  its  choir,  its 
economy,  and  its  income ;  hb  attention  to  all  those  that  preached  in  hb  cathedral,  in 
order  to  their  amendment  in  pronunciation  and  style ;  as  also  hb^emarkable  attention 
to  the  interest  of  hb  successors,  preferably  to  hb  own  present  emoluments;  his  invinci- 
ble patriotbm,  even  to  a  country  which  he  did  not  love ;  hb  very  various,  well-devised, 
well-judged,  and  extensive  charities,  throughout  hb  life;  and  hb  whole  fortune  (to  say 
nothing  of  hb  wife's)  conveyed  to  the  same  Christian  purposes  at  hb  death;  charities, 
from  which  he  could  enjoy  no  honour,  advantage,  or  satisfection  of  any  kind  in  thb 
world:  when  you  consider  hb  ironical  and  humorous,  as  well  as  hb  serious  schemes, 
for  the  promotion  of  true  religion  and  virtue ;  hb  success  ro  soliciting  for  the  first  fruits 
and  twentieths,  to  the  unspeakable  benefit  of  the  established  church  of  Ireland ;  and 
bb  felicity  (to  rate  it  no  higher)  in  giving  occasion  to  the  building  of  fifty  new  churches 
ui  London : 

*'  All  thb  conmlered,  the  character  of  hb  life  will  appear  like  that  of  hb  writings; 
they  vrill  both  bear  to  be  re-considered  and  re-exammed  with  the  utmost  attention,  and 
nlways  discover  new  beauties  and  excellencies  upon  every  examination. 

*'  They  will  bear  to  be  considered  as  the  Sun,  in  which  the  brightness  w31  hide  the 
blembhes;  and  whenever  petukmt  ignorance,  pride,  malice,  malignity,  or  envy  inter- 
poses to  cloud  or  sully  hb  lame,  I  take  upon  me  to  pronounce,  that  the  eolqise  will  not 
last  long. 

**  To  conclude — No  man  ever  deserved  better  of  any  country,  than  Swift  dkl  of  hb ; 
a  steady,  persevering,  mflexible  friend;  a  wise,  a  watchful,  and  a  faithful  counsellor, 
uider  many  severe  trials  and  bitter  persecutions,  to  the  manifest  hanrd  both  of  hb 
liberty  and  fortune. 

**  He  lived  a  blessing,  be  died  a  benefactor,  ud  hb  name  will  ever  live  an  honour^ 
to  Ireland.'' 

In  the  poetical  works  of  Dr.  Swift  there  b  not  much  upon  which  the  critic  can  tezer- 
cise  hb  powers*  They  are  often  humorous,  almost  always  light,  and  have  the  quaiitiea 
whicfa  recommend  such  compositions,  easiness  and  gaiety.  They  are,  for  the  most  paft 
what  their  author  intended.  The  dktion  b  correct,  the  munbors  are  smooth^  and  tbe 
thysEws,  exact    There  seldom  occurs  a  haid-laboured  txpiefsioD»  or  a  ledmidanl  epi- 


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866  liFE  OF  SWIFT.^ 

thet ;  all  his  verses  exemplify  his  own  definition  of  a  good  style,  they  con&t  of  **  pnper 
words  in  proper  places." 

To  divide  this  collection  into  dasses,  and  show  how  some  pieces  are  gross,  and  some 
are  trifling,  would  be  to-  tell  the  reader  what  he  knows  alraidy,  and  to  find  faults  si 
which  the  author  could  not  be  ignorant  who  certainly  wrote  often  not  to  his  judgment, 
but  his  humour. 

Itwassaid,in  a  preface  to  one  of  the  Irish  editions,  that  Swift  had  never  been  knoini 
to  take  a  single  thought  from  any  writer,  ancient  or  modem.  This  is  not  literally,  tme ; 
i>ut  perhaps  no  writer  can  easily  be  found  that  has  borrowed  so  little,  or  that  in  ail  hb 
^xcdlenciesiUMl  idl  his  ddeds,  has  so  well  maintained  liis  dvoi  to  be  considered  ai. 
i>rigin«i. 


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POEMS 


OF 


DR,  JONATHAN  SWIFT. 


ODB 

TO  THB  BOKOVKABLB 

SIR  WtLUAM  TEMPLE. 

Written  at  Moor-Park,  ^iine,  }689. 

ViETOB,  the  greatest  of  all  monarchies  * 
Till,  its  first  emperor  rebellions  man 
Deposed  from  off  his  seat. 
It  fiell,  and  broke  with  its  own  weight 
Into  amall  states  and  principalities, 
By  many  a  petty  lord  possessed. 
But  ne'er  since  seated  in  one  single  breast  f 
Tis  yon  who  most  this  land  subdue, 
The  mighty  oonqnest  's  left  for  you, 
r         The  conquest  and  diseovery  too ; 
Search  out  this  Utopian  g^^und, 
Virtoe*s  Terra  Ineognita, 
Where  none  ever  led  the  way, 
i^or  ever  since  bnt  in  descriptions  fomid, 

like  the  philosopher's  stnne, 
Wkfa  roles  to  search  it,  yet  obtained  by  none. 

We  have  too  long  been  led  astray ; 
Too  long  have  our  misguided  souls  been  taught 
With  rules  from  musty  noorals  brought, 
Tis  you  must  put  us  in  the  way;  . 

*  •  Let  us  (for  shaime  !)  no  more  be  fed 
',         With  antique  reljques  of  the  dead, 
The  gkanJHgs  of  philosophy, 
*  Philosophy,  the  lumber  of  the  schoob, 
The  roguery  of  alchemy ; 
And  we,  the  bubbled  foob, 
9peni  all  our  present  life  in  hopes  of  golden  rules. 

But  nbat  d<^  our.  proud  ignorance  learning  call  ? 

We  oddly  Plato's  paradox  make  good. 
Our  knowjedge  is  but  mere  remembrance  aUj 

Remembrance  is  our  treasure  and  our  food ; 
Nature's  feir  tfM>l^!>ook,  our  tender  souls, 
We  scrawl  o*er  all  with  old  and  empty  rules, 
5tale  memoFB^uffls  of  the  schools : 


For  Learning's  mighty  treasures  look 
In  that  deep  grave  a  book ; 
Think  that  she  there  does  all  her  treasures  hide. 

And  that  her  troubled  ghost  still  haunts  there  since 
she  dy*d. 

Confine  her  walks  to  colleges  and  schools ; 

Her  priests,  her  train,  and  followers  shew 
As  if  they  all  were  speptres  too !    • 
They  purchase  knowledge  at  th'  expense 
Of  common  breeding,  common  sense, 
And  grow  at  once  scholars  and  fools  ; 
Afiect  ill-mannerM  pedantry. 

Rudeness,  ill-nature,  incivility. 

And,  sick  with  dregs  of  knowledge  grown. 
Which  greedily  they  swallow  down. 

Still  cast  it  up,  and  nauseate  company. 

Curst  be  the  wretch  I  nay  doubly  curst! 

(If  it  may  lawful  be 
To  curse  our  greatest  enemy)     - 
Who  learnt  himself  that  heresy  first 
(Which  since  has  seized  on  all  the  rest) 
That  knowledge  forfeits  all  humanity ; 
Taught  us,  like  Spaniards  to  be  proud  and  poor. 

And  fling  our  scraps  before  our  door !       ' 
Thrice  happy  you  have  'scap'd  this  general  pest  $ 
Those  mighty  epithets,  leam*d,  good,  and  great. 
Which  we  ne'er  joined  before,  but  in  romanees  meety 
We  find  in  3rou  at  last  united  grown. 

You  cannot  be  compared  to  one : 
I  most^  tike  him  that  painted  Venus'  feoe, 
Borrow  from  every  one  a  grace  ; 
Virgil  and  'Epicui^  wiH  not  do, 

Their  courting  a  retreat  like  you. 
Unless  I  put  in  Csesar's  learning  too ; 

Your  happy  frame  at  once  controls ' 
This  great  triumvhrate  of  souls. 
Let  not  old  Rome  boast  Fabius'^fete ; 

He  savM  his  country  by  delays,  . 

But  3rou  by-peace.  - 
You  bought  it  at -a  cheaper  rate  i 
Nor  has  it  ldft<the  usual  bloody  scar. 

To  show  iticQst  its  prifit  ia  w|  ^ 


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368 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


War  I  that  mad  game  the  world  so  loves  to  play. 

And  for  it  does  bo  dearly  pay; 
For,  though  with  loss  or  victory  a  while 

Fortune  the  gamesters  does  beguile. 
Yet  at  the  last  the  box  sweepo  all  awajr. 

Only  the  laurel  got  by  peace 
No  thunder  e*er  can  blast : 
Th'  artillery  of  the  skies 
Shoots  to  the  Earth,  and  dies ; 
Nor  ever  green  and  Bourishing  'twill  last,   [cries. 
Nor  dipt  m  blood,  nor  widows*  tears,  nor  ophans' 
About  the  head  crown*d  with  these  bays. 
Like  lambent  fire  the  lightning  plays  : 
Nor,  its  triunphal  cavalcade  to  grace, 

Makes  yp  its  sojenin  traiR  with  ^th ; 
It  melts  the  sword  of  war,  yet  keeps  it  in  the  sheathJ 

Th'  wily  shifts  of  state,  those  jngglers*  tricks. 
Which  we  call  deep  designs  and  politics 
(As  in  a  theatre  ^e  ignorant  fry,      - 
Because  the  cords  escape  their  eye. 
Wonder  to  see  the  motions  fly) ; 
Methinks,  when  you  expose  the  scene, 
Down  the  ill-organ'd  engines  fisill ; 
Off  fly  the  vizards,  and  discover  all  : 

How  plain  I  see  through  the  deceit ! 
How  shalbw,  and  hbw  gross,  the  cheat ! 
Look  where  the  puUy's  tied  above  ! 
Gi«at  God  !  (said  I)  what  have  I  seen ! 
On  what  poor  engines  move 
The  thoughts  of  monarchs,  and  designs  of  states  ! 

What  petty  motives  rule  their  fates ! 
How  the  mouse  makes  the  mighty  mountain  shake ! 
The  mi|^ty  moontain^labours  with  its  birth. 
Away  the  frightened  peasants  fly, 
Scar*d  at  th'  unheard-of  prodigy, 
Sxpect  some  great  gigantic  son  of  Earth; 
Lo !  it  appears  ! 
See  how  thtv  tremble;  how  they  quake  t 
Out  starts  the  httlebeast,  and  moeks  their  idle  fiearSi 

Then  tell,  deafilmMnM  M«Mfe ! 
What  serpagt  's  that  which  stiU  resorts. 
Still  lurks  in  pala<*es  and  courts  ? 
Tdke  thy  uowonted  flight. 
And  OD  the  terrace  light 

See  where  she  lies  1 
See  how  she  rears  her  head, 
Ai^  rails,  about  her  dreadfid  eyes. 
To  drive  alJ  virtue.out,  or  look  it  dead ! 
Twas  sore  this  basilisk  sent  Temple  thence,^ 
And"  thoqf h  as  some  {HJA  said}  for  thefa*  delonce 
HaTB  worn  a  casemebt  o'er  their  ildii^ 
So  he  woe  1^  within. 
Hade  ap  of  virtue  and  transparent  umoceooe; 

AaA  though  he  d^  rpnew^d  thefigfi^ 
And  almost  got  priority  of  sighl^ 

He  ne'e^  could  overcome  hex  quite', 
(In  pieces  cut,  the  viper  still  did  re-umte)» 

Till,  at  last,  tir'd  with  kMsof  time  and  eaM. 
BcMlf'd  to^ve  hiiB4elf,.as  wettas  coonijf,  peabC* 

$ag,  bekif d  Hfml  tfae't)iaMMi  btmUkJi; 
And  in  soflie^iMiMteilM  visgia-MiiiW- 
Showthe  <leligM«r«>iM  Ni>Mte*^ieMs|  * 
Sbg  of  thy  valet,  sing  e#  Hiy  #iiedi,ni^g  of  thy 
QoptiUk'fiMHk^jfkSA'^  (Aalds; 

amnugfatymjuiwiyiijiwuikK^^ 
mm  noUe  m  «BpM  •ft'tHergiwH. 

Hoir  it  tte  Mom  luwrinit  grami  t 


Whene'er  she  takes  thb  flight. 
She  soars  clear  out  of  sight 
These  are  the  paradises  of  her  own : 
(The  Pegasus,  like  an  unruly  horse. 
Though  ne'er  so  gently  led 
To  the  [oV*d  pasture  where  be  us'd  to  feed, 
Ruiis  ^lolentily  o*er  his  ususl  course.) 
Wake  from  thy  wanton  dreams. 

Come  from  thy  dear-lov'd  streams. 
The  crooked  paths  of  wandering  Thames  ! 
Fain  the  fisiir  nymph  would  stay. 
Oft'  she  looks  back  in  vain. 
Oft*  'gainst  her  fountain  does  complain. 
And  softly  steals  in  many  windings  down, 
Af  loth  to  see  the  hated  court  and  town, 
Andf  mnrraufls  as  she  gKdes  away. 

In  this  new  happy  scene 
Are  nobler  subjects  for  your  learned  pen  ; 
Here  we  expect  from  you 
More  than  your  predecessor  Adam  knew ; 
Whatererneres  our  wonder,  or  our  sport. 
Whatever  serves  for  innocent  emblems  of  the  court; 

How  that  which  we  a  kernel  see 
(^liose  well-compacted  forms  escape  the  U^bt, 
Unpierc'd  by  the  blunt  rays  of  sight) 
Shall  ere  long  grow  into  a  tree; 
Whence  takes  it  its  increase,  and  whence  its  birth. 
Or  from  the  sun,  orfron  theair,  orfrom  the  earth. 
Where  all  the  fruitful  atoms  lie ; 
How'somfe  go  downward  to  the  root; 
Some  more  ambitious  upwards  fly, 
And  form  the  leaves^  the  braliebes,  ami  the  fruit. 
You  strove  to  cultivate  a  barren  court  in  vain, 
Your  garden  's  better  worth  youV  ndfle  pain. 
Here  manklbd^fdj^,  and  hence  mtist  rseagaib: 

Shall  I  believe  a  spirit  so  divine 

Was  cast  in  the  same  mo«iki  witk  mine } 
Why  then  does  Nttnre  so  aajastly  share^ 
Among  hfer  eUel-  sods  the  whole  cslsitei 

And  aU  her  jeMs-and  iMT  plale  f 
Poor  we !  cadelff  of  Hesiveo,  not  weith  her  care, 
Take  up  at  best  with  lumber  and-  tke  leaviogi  of  a 
fSire.! 

Some  she  bind9>pfettAie  toifae  ipadV, 

Some  to  the  drtidlialy  of  >  a  Iradek 
Some  she  doek  toEgypli&HMlMiagt'diwi;: 
Bids  us  make  biieks^  yet  aenii'iie  tolooit Mt  for 

SomesHeooMleinte^forUfotiHtry     [Unm 
To  dig  the  leaiden  mines  of  deep  philosophy : 
Me  she  has  t6  th6  Muse's  gidlie^tied',^ 
In  vafn  I  Mvt  to  choss  this  spaeil>i«^  idJOli! 
Iii  vthi'I  td^'atid  puH  th^'bit-; 
And,  when  I  alteottVeadi  tjMiMM; 
Straight  tAe'  MhsMf  XAttA  the'^mk^nin  Undi  i 

And*Ve^n{«Wii*V'"^^  "     ' 

Vniene'er  I  mourn;  1^"^" 
With  prortte  t/a*^ 


.   Then,  sir,  acoep^ifbitl 

lh(^  tTibflie  jf  aa  huEmble  iVTu^frj 
*Tis  alt  lb«f  portjLm  t-f  mjr  nig^rd  star^  ; 
ifflluTt*  t.h«?  hiddt^n  ™t1e  did  at  my  hirtTi  fnfttt^  - 
And  kiHdlftJ  first  with  indolertc??  aid-e«*l 

And,  ^in«e  too  oft  d  ebaodi'd  hj^  piW,*' 
TSs  BOW  jarwiwii  ati  incura^jfe  dhlasi?? 
In  v*io  iQ  qaencb  this  foolfeh  flf^l  trf 

In  wfsdom  aod  phnosojiliy; 


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THE  ATHENIAN  SOCIETY. 


3^9 


In  va«n  all  wholesome  herbs  I  sow, 
Where  nought  bat  weeds  will  grow. 
Wiiate'er  I  plant  (like  corn  cm  barren  earth) 
By  an  equivocal  birth 
Seeds,  and  runs  up  to  poetry. 


ODE 
TO  KING  WILLIAM^, 

OV  U18  SUCCESSES  IM  IHELAND. 

7o  purchase  kingdoms,  and  to  buy  renown, 
Are  arts  peculiar  to  dissembling  France  ; 

Yon,  mighty  monarch,  nobler  actions  crown, 
Aud  solid  virtue  does  your  name  advance. 

Your  matchless  courage  with  your  prudeoce  joins, 
The  glorious  ftructure  of  your  feme  to  raise ; 

With  its  own  light  your  dazzling  glory  shines. 
And  into  adoration  turns  our  praise. 

Had  you  by  dull  succesnon  gained  your  crown 
(Cowards  are  monarchs  by  that  title  made). 

Part  of  your  merit  Chance  wouM  call  her  own. 
And  half  your  virtues  had  been  lost  in  shade. 

Bat  now  your  worth  its  just  reward  shall  have : 
What  trophies  and  what  triumphs  are  your  due  ; 

Who  could  so  well  a  dyixtg  nation  save. 
At  once  deserve  a  crown  and  gain  it  too  ! 

You  saw  how  near  we  were  to  ruin  brons^t. 
Yon  saw  tb'  impetuous  torrent  rolling  on ; 

And  timely  on  the  coming  danger  thought. 

Which  we  could  neither  obviate,  nor  shun.         * 

Britannia  stript  from  her  sole  guard  the  laws. 
Ready  to  fkW  Rome*s  bloody  sacrifice  ; 

Yoa  ftraight  stept  in,  and  from  the  monster's  jaws 
Did  bravely  snatch  the  lovely,  helpless  prize. 

Kor  this  is  all ;  as  glorious  is  the  care 
To  preserve  conquests,  as  at  first  to  gain : 

In  this  your  virtue  claims  a  double  share, 
Which  what  it  bravely  won,  does  well  mamtain. 

Yom-  arm  has  now  ybnr  rightful  title  showed. 
An  arm  on  which  all  Europe's  hopes  depend. 

To  which  they  look  as  to  some  guardian  God, 
Hmt  must  their  doubtful  h'berty  defend. 

Amaz'd,  thy  action  at  the  Bo3me  we  see ! 

When  Schomberg  started  at  the  vast  design  r 
The  boundless  glory  all  redounds  to  thee,     [thine. 

Th*  impulse,  the  fight,  th'  event,  were  wholly 

The  brave  attempt  does  all  our  foes  disarm ; 

You  need  but  now  give  orders  and  command. 
Your  name  shall  the  remaining  work  perform. 

And  spare  the  labour  of  your  conquering  hand. 

>  With -much  pleasuve  I  here  present  to  the  pub- 
lic an  ode  which  had  been  long  sought  after  with- 
out success.  That  it  is  Swift's,  I  have  not  the  least 
doubt ;  and  it  is  more  curious,  as  being  the  second 
poem  that  he  wrote.  He  refers  to  it  in  the  second 
stanza  of  his  Ode  to  th»^  Athenian  Society,  and  ex- 
press marku  it  by  a  marginal  note,  under  the  title 
of  The  Ode  I  writ  to  the  King  in  Ireland.  See,  dso^ 
The  GeoUeman's  Journal^  July,  1629.  p.  13.  iV. 

VOL.  XL 


France  does  in  vain  her  feeble  arts  apply. 
To  interrupt  the  fortune  of  your  course  s 

Your  influence  does  the  vain  attacks  defy 
Of  secret  malice,  or  of  open  force. 

Boldly  we  hence  the  brave  commencement  date 
Of  glorious  deeds,  that  must  all  tongues  employ  : 

William 's  the  pledge  and  earnest  given  by  &te 
Of  England's  glory,  and  her  hu^  joy. 


ODE 

TO  THE 

ATHSmAN  SOCIETY. 

Moor-Park,  Peb.  14,  1691. 

As.  when  the  deluge  first  began  to  fall, 

lliat  mighty  ebb  never  to  flow  again 

(When  this  huge  body's  moisture  was  so  great. 

It  quite  overcame  the  vital  beat) ; 
That  mountain  which  was  highest,  first  of  all 
Appeared  above  the  iinivers^  main. 
To  bless  the  primitive  sailor's  weary  sight ! 
And  twas  perhaps  Parnassus,  if  in  height 

It  be  as  greaftas  tis  in  fim^. 

And  nigh  to  Heaven  as  is  its  name: 
So,  after  th'  inundation  of  a  war. 
When  Learning's  little  houshold  didembaik 
With  her  worid's  fruitful  system  in  her  sacred  ark. 

At  the  first  ebb  of  noise  and  fears, 
P'bilosophy^  exalted  head  aptiears; 
And  the  Dove-Muse  will  now  no  longer  stay, 
^t  plumes  her  silver  wings  and  flies  away ; 

And  now  a  laurel  wreath  she  brings  fnNn  fiir. 

To  crown  the  hi^y  conqueror, 

To  show  the  flood  begms  to  cease. 
And  brings  the  dear  reward  of  victory  and  peac^ 

The  eager  Muse  U)ok  wmg  upon  the  wave's  declmt, 
«  When  W^  her  cloudy  aspect  just  withdre«r, 

TIHien  the  bright  sun  of  Peace  began  to  shine. 
And  for  a  while  m  heavenly  contemplation  sat 

On  the  high  top  of  peaceful  Ararat;  [tiiat  grew. 
And  plnck'd  a  laurel  branch  (for  laarel  was  Ihe  first 
The  first  <tf  plants  after  the  thnnder,  storin,  and 

And  thence,  with  joyful  nimble  wmg,        [ram) ; 

Flew  dutifully  back  again. 
And  made  an  humble  chaplet  for  the  king  K 

And  the  Dove-Muse  is  fled  once  more 
(Glad  of  the  victory,  yet  frighten'd  at  the  war) ; 

And  now  discovers  from  a&r 

A  peaceful  and  a  flourishing  shore : 
No  sooner  did  she  land 
On  the  delightful  strand. 

Than  straight  she  sees  the  country  all  aroundT  ' 

Where  fiiUl  Neptune  rul'd  erewbile, 
Scatter'd  with  flowery  vales,  with  firaitiiil  gardens 
And  many  a  pleasant  wood !  [crown'd^ 

As  if  the  universal  Nile    ^ 

Had  rather  water'd  it  than  drown'd : 
It  seems  some  floating  piece  of  paradise, 
-  Pheserv'd  by  wonder  from  the  fl0od. 
Long  wandering  throu^  the  deep,  as,  we  are  told. 
Fam'dDeloididof  old, 

1  The  ode  I  writ  to  the  kmg  hi  Ireland.  Swift. 
Bb 


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570 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


And  the  trmnB|iorted  M^itt  imagin'd  it 
To  be  a  fitter  birtb -place  fur  the  god  of  wit. 
Or  the  tnucb-talk'd  oracular  grove  ; 
When  with  amazing  joy  she  bean 
An  unknown  music  all  around 
Charming  her  greedy  ear* 
With  many  a  heavenly  song 
Of  nature  and  of  art,  of  deep  philosophy  and  love, 
Whilst  angels  tune  the  voice,  and  God  mspires  the 
In  vain  she  catches  at  the  empty  sound  [tongue. 
In  vain  pursues  the  music  with  her  longing  eye, 

And  courts  the  wanton  echoes  as  they  fly. 
Pardon,  ye  great  unknown,  and  far-exalted  men. 
The  wild  CT^nirsions  of  a  youthful  pen  «  ; 
Forgive  a  young,  and  (almost)  Virgin-Muse, 
Whom  hlind  and  eager  curiosity 
(Yet  curiosity,  they  say. 
Is  in  her  sex  a  crime  needs  no  excuse) 

Has  forc*d  to  grope  her  uncouth  way 
After  a  mighty  Tight  that  leadi  her  wandering  eye. 
No  wonder  then  she  quits  the  narrow  path  of  sense 
For  a  dear  ramble  through  impertinence ; 
Impertinence !  the  scurvy  of  mankind. 
And  all  we  fools,  who  are  the  greater  part  of  it, 
Though  we  be  of  two  different  Actions  still. 

Both  the  good-natu'r'd  and  the  ill. 
Yet  whoresoe'er  you  look,  you'll  ahrays  find 
We  join,  like  flies  and  wasps,  in  buzsing  about  wit 
In  me,  who  am  of  the  first  sect  of  these. 
All  merit,  that  transcends  the  humble  rules 
Of  my  own  dazzled  scanty  sense, 
Begets  a  kinder  folly  and  impertinence 

Of  admiration  and  of  praise. 
And  our  good  brethren  of  the  surly  sect 

Must  eW)  all  herd  us  with  their  kindred  fools: 
For  though,  possessM  of  present  vogue,  tJ^  >ve 
Railing  a  role  of  wit,  and  obloquy  a  trade ;  [made 
Yet  the  same  want  of  brains  produces  each  eiSsct 
And  you,  whom  Pluto's  helm  does  wisely  shroud 
.   From  us  the  blind  and  thooghtiest  crowd, 
like  the  fam'd  hero  in  bis  mother's  cloud, 
I   Who  both  our  follies  and  impertinences  see, 
Do  laugh  perhaps  at  theirs,  and  pity  mine  and  mt. 

But  censure 's  tobe  understood 
Th'  authentic  mark  of  the  elect,  [and  good. 
The  public  stamp  Heaven  sets  on  all  that's  great 
Our  shallow  search  and  judgment  to  direct. 
The  war  ntethinks  has  made 
Our  wit  and  learning  narrow  as  our  trade; 
Instead  of  boldly  sailmg  far,  to  buy 
▲  stock  of  wisdom  and  phikisophy. 

We  fondly  stay  at  hom%  in  fear 
Of  every  censuring  privateer ; 
Forcing  a  wretehed  trade  by  beating  down  the  sale. 
And  selling  basely  by  retaiL 
The  wits,  I  mean  the  atheists  of  the  age, 
Whofein  would  rule  the  pulpit  as  they  do  the  st^ge ; 
Wondrous  refiners  of  philotophy. 
Of  morals  and  divinity. 
By  the  new  modish  system  of  red«oiBg  all  to  sense, 
Against  all  logic  and  ooodndHng  laws. 
Do  own  th'  eflects  of  ProvidttMe^ 
And  yel  deny  the  cause. 

t  See  Swift's  vtry  remarkable  letter  to  the 
Athenian  Society,  in  the  SuppkiiMnt  to  bis 
Woiki.    AT. 


rThis  hopeful  sect^  now  it  begins  to  ied 
,  How  little,  very  little,  do  prevail 

Their  first  and  chiefest  force 
To  censure,  to  cry  down,  and  rail, 
Xot  knowing  what,  or  where,  or  who  you  be^ 
Will  quickly  take  another  course : 
And,  by  their  never-failing  ways 
Of  solving  all  appearances  they  please. 
We  soon  shall  see  them  to  their  ancient  methods  falli 
And  straight  deny  you  to  be  men,  or  any  thing  at 
1  laugh  at  the  grave  answer  they  will  make, [all. 
Which  they  have  always  ready,  general,  and  cheap: 
»Tw  but  to  pay,  that  what  we  daily  meet, 
And  by  a  IoimI  mi^ttake 
Periiaps  imagine  to  be  wondrous  wit. 
And  think,  alas !  to  be  by  mortals  writ, 
Is  but  a  croud  of  atoms  jtistliug  in  a  heap. 

Which  from  eternal  seeds  begun, 
JuaUing  tome  thousand  years  till  ripen'd  by  the  Sun ; 
Tbey  're  now,  just  now,  as  naturally  bom. 
As  from  the  womb  of  Earth  a  fieki  of  com* 

But  as  for  poor  contented  me. 
Who  mnst  my  weakness  and  my  ignoresiee^onfeti) 
lliat  I  believe  in  much  I  ne'er  eaa  hope  to  set ; 
Methinks  I  'm  satisfy'd  to  guest. 
That  this  new,  noble,  and  delightful  scene 
bjwdnderfully  mof  d  by  some  exalted  men. 

Who  have  wel I  studied  m  the  worid  's  disease 
(That  epidemic  errour  and  depravity," 
Or. in  our  judgment  or  our  eye). 
That  what  surprises  us  can  only  please. 
We  often  search  contentedly  the  whole  world  round. 
To  make  some  great  discovery ; 
And  scorn  it  when  tis  found. 
Just  so  the  mighty  Nile  has  sufier'd  in  its  fiune, 

Because  'tis  said  (and  perhaps  only  said) 
We  've  found  a  little  inconnderable  head. 

That  feeds  the  huge  unequal  stream. 
Consider  human  folly,  and  you  'II  (Quickly  Ofwii, 

That  all  the  praises  it  can  give. 
By  which  some  fondly  boast  they  bball  forever  live. 
Won't  pay  th'  impertinence  cif  being  known : 
Else  why  should  the  fam'd  Lydian  king 
(Whom  all  the  charms  of  an  usurped  wife  and  state. 
With  all  that  power  unfelt  courts  mankind  to  be 
Did  with  new  unezperienc'd  glories  wait)  [gveet. 
Still  wear,  still  doat,  on  his  invinble  ring  I  * 

Were  I  to  form  a  regular  thought  of  Fame, 
Which  is  perhaps  as  hard  t*  imagine  right 
As  to  paint  Echo  to  the  sight ; 
I  wonkl  not  diraw  th'  idea  from  an  enifity  name; 
Because,  alas !  when  we  all  die, 
Caveless  and  ^noraat  posterity. 
Although  they  praise  the  learning  and  the  wit. 

And  though  the  title  seems  to  show 
The  name  and  man  by  whom  the  book  was  writ. 
Yet  how  shall  they  be  brought  to  know. 
Whether  that  -very  name  xras  he,  or  you,  or  I? 
I^ess  should  I  daub  it  o'er  with  transitory  praise, 

And  water-colours  of  these  days : 
l^esedays!  where  e'en  th' extravagance  of  poetr; 
Is  at  a  lots  fbr  figures  to  expfreas 
Men's  folly,  whimsies,  and  inconstancy. 
And  by  a  famt  description  makes  them  le«. 
Then  tell  us  what  is  Fame,  where  shall  we  searoh 
Look  where  exalted  Vhrtne  ami  Religkm  sit  fibr  iti 
Enthroo'd  with  heavenly  Wit! 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  ATtfENUN  SOCIETY. 


8n 


Look  wliere  you  see  ^ 

The  greatest  scorn  of  learned  Vanity  ! 
(And  then  how  much  a  nothing  is  mankind ! 
Whose  reason  is  weigh *d  down  by  popular  air. 
Who,  by  that,  i^ainly  talks  of  baffling  death  $ 
And  hopes  to  iengUien  life  by  a  transfusion  of 
breath, 
Which  yet  whoever  examines  tight  will  find 
To  be  an  art  as  tain  as  bottling  up  of  wind  !} 
And  when  you  find  out  these,  befieve  true  Fame  is 
thei^. 
Far  above  all  reward,  yet  to  which  all  is  due ; 
And  this,  ye  great  unknown !  is  only  known  in 
you. 

The  juggling  seft-god,  when  by  chance  trepan*d 
By  some  instructed  querist  sleeping  on  the  saod^ 
Impatient  of  all  answers,  straight  became 
A  stealing  brook,  and  strove  to  creep  away 

Into  his  native  sea, 
Vext  at  their  follies,  murmnr'd  in  his  stream  ; 
But,  disappointed  of  his  fond  desire. 
Would  vanilh  in  a  pyramid  of  fireC 
This  surly  slippery  god,  when  he  design*d 

To  furnish  his  escapes,  , 

Ne'er  borrowed  more  variety  of  shapes 
Than  you  to  please  and  satisfy  mankind, 
And  seem  (almost)  transform^  to  water,  flame,  and 
'  So  well  you  answer  all  phaenomena  there :     [air. 
Though  madmen  and  ^e  wits,  philosopheis  and 

fiM)Is, 
With  all  that  fiictious  or  enthuriastic  dotards  dream, 
And  all  the  incoherent  jargon  of  the  schools; 
Thou^  all  the  fumes  of  fear,  hope,  knre,  and 
shame. 
Contrive  to  shock  your  minds  with  many  a  senseless 

doubt; 
Hoobts  where  the  Delphic  god  woold  grope  in  igno- 
rance and  night. 
The  god  of  learning  and  of  light 
Would  want  a' god  himself  to  help  him  out 

Phikeophy,  as  it  before  us  lies. 
Seems  to  have  borfoiw'd  some  ungrateful  taste 
Of  doubts,  impertinence,  and  niceties. 
From  every  age  through  which  it  passed. 
But  alwajrs  with  a  stronger  relish  of  the  last 
This  beauteous  queen,  by  Heaven  designed 
To  be  the  great  original 
For  mm  to  dress  and  poHsh  his  uncourtly  mindj 
lo  what  mock  habits  have  they  put  her  since  the 
foil! 
More  oft  in  fools'  and  madmen^  hands  than  sages. 
She  seems  a  medley  of  all  ages, 
With  a  huge  fardingale  to  swell  her  fiistian  stuff, 
•  A  ntm  commode,  a  top-knot,  and  a  ruff, 
Her  fare  patched  o'er  with  modem  pedantryi 
With  a  long  sweeping  train 
Of  comments  and  disputes,  ridieukms  and  vain, 
All  of  old  cut  with  a  new  dye : 
How  soon  have  you  restor'd  her  charms^ 
And  rid  her  of  her  lumber  and  her  baoks, 
Prest  her  again  genteel  and  neat. 
And  rather  tight  than  great ! 
How  fond  we  are  to  court  her  to  our  arms ! 
How  mnch  of  Heaven  is  in  he*,  naked  looks ! 

Tbos  thedehidhig  Mnse  oft  blinds  me  to  her  wap. 
And  ev'n  my  very  thoughts  transfers 
And  ohaogeft  aS  to  beauty,  and  the  prain 
Of  tha^  proiid  tyrant  te  of  hen. 


The  rebel  Muse,  alas !  tikes  part 
But  with  my  own  rebellious  heart. 
And  you  with  fatal  and  immortal  wit  conspire 
To  fan  th'  unhappy  fire. 
Cruel  Unknown !   what  is  it  you  intend  ?  [friend  \ 
Ah !  could  you,  roulJ  you  hope  a  poet  for  your 

Rather  forgive  what  my  first  transport  said : 
May  all  the  blood,  which  slwill  by  woman's  scom 
be  shed. 
Lie  upon  you  and  on  3rour  children's  head ! 
For  you  (ah !  did  I  think  I  e'er  should  live  to  see 
The  fatal  time  when  that  could  be ! ) 
Have  evHi  increas'd  their  pride  and  cruelty. 
Woman  seems  now  above  all  vanity  grown. 
Still  boasting  of  her  groat  unknown 
Platouic  champions,  gain'd  without  one  female  wile. 
Or  the  vast  charges  of  a  smile  ; 
Which  'tis  a  shame  to  see  how  much  of  late 
You  've  taught  the  Covetous  wretches  to  o'er- 
rete. 
And  which  they  Nc  now  the  consciences  to  weigh 
In  the  same  balance  with  our  tears. 
And  with  such  scanty  wages  pay 
The  bondage  and  the  slavery  of  years.  fus. 

Let  the  vain  sex  dream  on ;  the  empire  comes  fiom 
An  1,  had  they  common  generosity, 
They  would  not  use  us  thus.        [degree. 
Well— though  you  've  reis*d  her  to  tUs  high 

Ourselves  are  raisM  as  well  fts  she; 
And,  spite  of  all  that  they  or  you  can  do, 
^Tis  pride  and  happiness  enough  to  me 
StiU  to  be  of  the  same  exalted  sex  with  yon.  - 

Alas,  how  fleeting  and  how  vain 
Is  ev'n  the  nobler  man,  our  learning  and  our  wit ! 
I  sigh  whene'er  I  think  of  it: 
As  at  the  closing  of  an  unhappy  scene 

Of  some  great  king  and  conqueror's  death, 
When  the  Md  melancholy  Muse 
StajTs  but  to  catch  his  utmost  breath. 
I  grieve,  this  nobler  work  most  happily  begun. 
So  quickly  and  so  wonderfully  carry'd  on. 
May  foil  at  last  to  interest,  folly,  and  abufe. 
There  is  a  noon-tide  in  our  lives. 
Which  still  the  sooner  it  arrives. 
Although  we  boast  our  winter-sun  looks  bright,    • 
And  foolishly  are  glad  to  see  it  at  its  height. 
Yet  so  much  sooner  comes  the  long  and  gloomy 
No  conquest  ever  yet  begun,  [night 

And  by  one  mighty  hero  carried  to  its  height. 
E'er  flonrish'd  under  a  successor  or  a  son ; 
It  lost  some  mighty  pieces  through  all  hands  it  past, 
And  vanish'd  to  an  empty  title  in  the  last 
For,  when  the  animating  mind  b  fled 
(Which  nature  never  can  retain. 
Nor  e'er  call  back  again). 
The  body,  though  gigantic,  lies  all  cold  and  dead. 

And  tiius  undoubtedly  'twill  fere, 
With  what  unhappy  men  shall  dare 
'  To  be  successors  to  these  great  unknown. 
On  Learning's  high-establish'd  throne. 
Censure,  and  Pedantry,  and  Pride, 
Numberless  nations,  stretching  for  and  wide,  [forth 
Shall  (I  foresee  it)  soon  with  Gothic  swarms  come 
From  Ignorance's  universal  North,        [mentf 
And  with  blind  mge  break  all  this  pea<kful  govern- 
Yet  shall  these  traces  of  yow  wit  remain, 
like  a  just  map,  to  tell  the  vast  extant 
Of  conquest  in  your  short  and  happy  i«ign| 

bb2 


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«72 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


And  to  all  future  mankind  shew 
Hi>w  strange  a  paradox  is  true, 
That  jnen  who  liv'd  and  dy'd  withont  a  name 
Are  the  chief  heroes  in  the  sacred  list  of  Fame. 


WllITTEN   IN   A 

LADY'S  IVORY^TABLE'BOOK,  1699. 

Pebuse  my  leaves  through  every  part. 
And  think  thou  seest  my  owner's  heart. 
Scrawled  o'er  with  trifles  thus,  and  quite 
As  hard,  as  senseless,  and  as  light ; 
Exposed  to  every  coxcomb^s  eyes. 
But  hid  with  caution  from  the  wise. 
Here  you  may  read,  "  Dear  charming  saint !" 
Beneath,  "  A  new  receipt  for  paint'* 
Here,  in  beau-spelling,  "  Tm  tel  dethj" 
There,  in  her  own,  "  For  an  el  breth  :*' 
Here,  **  Lovely  nsrmph,  pronounce  my  doom !" 
There,  "  A  safe  way  to  use  perfume  :" 
<Here,  a  page  filPd  with  billets-doux ; 
On  t»other  side,  "  Laid  out  for  shoes" — 
**  Madam,  I  die  without  your  grace'*— 
"  Item,  for  h^lf  a  yard  of  lace.** 
Who  that  had  wit  would  place  it  here, 
Por  every  peeping  fop  to  jeer; 
In  po^er  of  spittle  and  a  clout. 
Whene'er  he  please,  to  blot  it  out ; 
And  then,  to  heighten  the  disgrace. 
Clap  his  own  nonsense  in  the  place  ? 
Whoe'er  expects  to  hold  his  part 
In  sach  a  book,  and  such  a  heart. 
If  he  be  wealthy,  and  ii  fool. 
Is  in  all  points  the  fittest  tool ; 
Of  whom  it  may  be  justly  said. 
He  ^s  a  gold  pencil  tipp'd  with  lead. 


MRS.  HARRIS'S  PETITION. 

1699. 

To  their  excellencies  the  lords  justices  of  Ireland  * , 

the  humble  petition  of  Frances  Harris, 
Who  must  starve,  and  die  a  maid,  if  it  miscarries ; 

Humbly  showeth, 
That  I  went  to  warm  myself  in  lady  Betty's  s  cham- 
ber, because  I  was  cold ; 
And  I  had  in  a  purse  seven  pounds,  four  shillings,  and 

six-pence,  besides  farthings,  in  money  and 

gold: 
So,  because  I  had  been  baymg  things  for  my  lady 

last  night, 
I  was  resolv'd,  to  tell  my  money,  to  see  if  it  was 

right 
Now,  you  must  know,  because  my  trunk  has  a  very 

bad  lock. 
Therefore  all  the  money  I  have,  which,  God  knows, 

is  a  very  small  stock, 
I  keep  in  my  pocket,  ty'd  about  my  middle,  next  to 

my  smock. 

>  The  earls  of  Berkelej^and  of  Qalway. 

s  Ltdy  Betty  Berkeley,  alterwardf  Qewaioe,  ' 


So  when  I  went  to  put  up  my  parse,  as  God  wotlld 

have  it,  my  smock  was  unript, 
And,  instead  of  putting  it  into  my  pocket,  down  it 

slipt ; 
Then  the  bell  rung,  and  I  went  down  to  put  my  lady 

to  bed; 
And,  God  knows,  I  thought  my  money  was  as  safe 

as  my  maidenhead. 
So,  when  I  came  up  again,  I  found  my  pocket  fed 

very  light : 
But  when  I  search 'd,  and  mis$*d  my  purse,  Loid ! 

I  thought  I  should  have  sunk  outright 
Lord  !  madam,  sajrs  Mary,  how  d*  ye  do  ?  Indeed 

says  I,  never  worse : 
But  pray,  Mary,  can  you  tell  what  I  have  done 

with  my  purse  T" 
Lord  help  me !    said  Mary,  I  never  stirr'd  out  of 

this  place : 
Nay,  said  I,  I  had   it  in   lady  Betty's  chamber,. 

that's  a  )>lain  case. 
So  Mary  got  me  to  bed  and  cover*d  me  up  warm : 
However,  she  stole  away  my  garter%  that  I  might 

do  myself  no  harm. 
So  I  tumbled  and  toss'd  all  night,  as  you  may  very 

well  think. 
But  hardly  ever  set  my  eyes  together,  or  slqit  a 

wink* 
So  I  was  a-dream*d,  methought,  that  we  went  and 

search'd  the  folks  round. 
And  in  a  comer  of  Mrs.  Dukes's  ^  box  ty'd  in  a  rag, 

the  money  was  found. 
So  next  morning  we  told  Whittle  *.  and  be  fell  a- 

snearlni?  : 
Then  my  dame  Wadger  ^  came ;  and  she,  joa  know, 

is  thick  of  hearing. 
Damp,  said  I,  as  loud  as  I  could  bawl,  do  you  know 

what  a  los")  I  have  had  ? 
Nay,  said  she,  my  lord  Colways  ^  folks  are  all  very 

sad; 
For  my  lord  Dromedary  '^  comes  a  Tuesday  without 

fail. 
Pugh  !  satd  I,  but  that  *8  not  the  business  that  I  ail, 
Says  Cary  ^  ftays  he,  I  have  been  a  servant  this  five 

and  twenty  years,  come  spring. 
And  in  all  the  places  I  liv'd  I  never  heard  of  mch  a 

thing.  ^ 

Yes,  says  the  steward  9  I  remember,  when  I  was  at 

my  lady  Shrewsbury's, 
Such  a  thing  as  this  happened  j nit  about  the  time  of 

gooteberrits. 
So  I  went  to  the  party  suspected,  and  I  found  her 

full  of  grief, 
(Now,  you  must  know,  of  all  things  in  the  world, 

I  hate  a  thief). 
However,  I  am  resolv'd  to  bring  the  discourse  slily 

about: 
Mrs.  Dukes,  said  I,  here  *b  an  ugly  accident  has  hap- 

pen*dout: 


3  Wife  to  one  of  the  footmen. 

*  Earl  of  Berkelejrs's  valet 

^  The  old  deaf  housekeeper. 

^Galway. 

''  The  earl  of  Drogheda,  who,  with  the  primat^ 
was  to  succeed  the  two  earls. 

•CteilL  of  the  kitchen.  »  Ferris. 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


BALLADS. 


373 


Tis  not  that  I  value  the  money  three  skips  of  a 

louse  '0  J 
But  the  thing  I  stand  upon  is  the  credit  of  the 

bouse. 
Tistrae,  seven  pounds,  four  shillings,  and  six-pence, 

makes  a  great  hole  in  my  wages  : 
Besides,  as  they  say,  service,  is  no  inheritance  in  these 

ages. 
Now,  Mrs.  I>ukes>  you  know,  and  every  body  under> 

stands. 
That  though  'tis  hard  to  judge,  yet  money  can*t  go 

without  haodo. 
The  devil  take  me  !  said  she  (blessing  herself)  if 

ever  I  saw  *t ! 
So  she  roar'd  like  a  Bedlam,  as  though  I  had  calPd 

her  all  to  naught. 
So  you  know,  what  could  I  say  to  her  any  more  ? 
I  e*en  left  her,  and  came  away  as  wise  as  I  was  be- 
fore. 
Well ;  but  then  they  would  have  had  me  gone  to  the 

cunning  man  ! 
No,  said  I,  'tis  the  same  thing,  the  chaplain  will  be 

here  anon. 
So  the  chaplain  '^came  in.    Now  the  servants  say 

be  18  my  sweetheart, 
Because  he 's  always  in  my  chamber,  and  I  always 

take  his  part. 
So,  as  the  devil  would  have  it,  before  I  was  aware, 

out  I  bhinder'd, 
Parson^  said  I,  can  you  cast  a  nativiiy',  when  a  body's 

plundered } 
Qfcm,  you  must  know,  he  bates  to  be  calPd  parson 

like  the  devil.' J 
Troly,  sajrs  be,  Mrs.  Nab,  it  might  become  you  to 

be  more  civil ; 
If  3Four  money  be  gone,  as  a  learned  divine  sajrs, 

d'  ye  see ;  [me : 

YoQ  are  no  text  for  my  handling ;  so  take  that  from 
I  was  never  taken  for  a  conjurer  before,  Td  have  you 

to  know. 
Lord!  said  I,  don*t  be  angry,  I  am  sure  I  never 

thought  yon  so ; 
You  know  I  honour  tb^  doth ;  I  design  to  be  a  par- 

sonU  wife  j 
I  never  took  one  in  your  cOQi  for  a  conjurer  in  all  my 

life. 
With  that  he  twisted  his  girdle  at  me  like  a  it^,  as 

who  should  stfy. 
Now  you  may  go  bang  yourself  for  me !  and  so  went 

away. 
Well :  I  thought  I  should  have  twooo'd.  Lord  I  said 

I,whatsbaUIdo? 
I  have  loft  my  money,  and  shall  lose  my  true  love 

too! 
Then  my  lord  call*d  me :  Harry  >^,  said  my  lord, 

dont  cry  J 
111  give  yop  sometUng towards  thy  loss;  and,  says 

my  lady,  so  will  I. 
Oh  I  but,  said  I,  what  if,  after  all,  the  chaplain 

won't  come  to  9 
For  that,  be  said,  (an't  please  your  excellencies)  1 

must  petition  you.  * 

The  premisses  tenderly  oonsider'd,  I  desire  your  ex- 

celfeneies  protection. 
And  that  I  may  have  a  share  in  next  Sunday's  col- 

lectioo; 

*o  An  usual  saying  of  hers.        n  Dr  Swift. 

^  A  cant  word  of  lord  and  lady  B.  to  BArs.  Harris. 


And  over  and  above,  that  I  may  have  yoor  excellent 

cies  letter, 
With  an  order  for  the  chaplain  aforesaid,  or,  instead 

of  him,  a  better : 
And  then  your  poor  petitioner,  both  night  and  day. 
Or  the  chaplain  (for  tisbis  trade),  as  in  duty  bound, 

shall  ever  pray* 


A   BALLAD 

ON  THE  GAME  OF  TRAFFIC. 

warmN  at  the  castlb  op  Dublin  1699. 

My  lord  I,  to  find  Out  who  muft  deal. 

Delivers  cards  about. 
But  the  first  knave  does  seldom  fail 

To  find  the  doctor  out 

But  then  bis  honour  cry 'd,  Gadzooks  ! 

And  seem'd  to  knit  his  brow : 
Fbr  on  a  knave  he' never  looks 

But  h'  thinks  upon  Jack  How  A. 

My  lady,  though  she  is  no  plaver. 

Some  bungling  partner  takes. 
And,  wcdg'd  in  comer  of  a  chair. 

Takes  snuff,  and  holds  the  stakes. 

Dame  Floy'd  ^  looks  out  in  grave  suspense 

For  pair-ro3rals  and  sequents; 
But,  wisely  cautious  of  her  pence. 

The  castle  seldom  fr^uents. 

Quoth  Uerries,  fairly  putting  cases, 

I  'd  won  it  on  my  word. 
If  I  had  but  a  pair  of  aces,  x 

And  could  pick  up  a  third. 

But  Weston  has  a  new-cast  gown 

On  Sundays  to  be  fine  in, 
And»  if  she  can  but  win  a  crown, 

IVill  just  new-d3re  the  lining. 

"   With  these  is  Parson  Sunfl, 
Not  knowing  how  to  spend  his  time. 

Does  make  a  wretched  shift. 
To  deafen  them  with  puns  and  rhjrme.'* 


A  BALLAD, 

TO  TBS  TUMB  OF  THB  CUT-PUaSt  *, 

Oncb  on  a  time,  as  old  stories  rehearse, 

A  iriar  would  needs  show  his  talent  in  Latin  $ 
But  was  sorely  put  to  't  in  the  midst  of  a  vers* 
Because  he  coukl  find  bo  word  to  come  pat  in : 
Then  all  in  the  place 
He  left  a  void  space. 
And  so  went  to  bed  in  a  de^erate  case : 

1  The  eari  of  Berkeley. 

s  Paymaster  to  the  army. 

9  See  the  verses  on  this  Udy,  p.  S76. 

i  Lady  Betty  Berkeley,  finding  the  preceding  ver* 
ses  in  the  author's  room  unfinished,  wrote  under  them 
the  concluding  stanza ;  which  gave  occasioo  to 
this  ballad,  written  by  tiie  author  in  a  countorfeit 
hand,  as  if  a  thifd  poion  had  done  it 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


874 


SWIFTS  POEMS, 


When  behold  the  next  morning  a  wondeHiil  riddle  ! 

He  found  it  was  strangely  filPd  up  ra  the  middle. 

Cho.  Let  censuring  critia  then  think  vhat  they  list 

on^t;  [eusiitant  9 

Who  would  not  mrite  verses  trith  such  an 

This  pot  me  the  friar  int^  an  amazement : 

For  be  wisely  consider'd  it  must  be  a  sprite ; 
That  he  came  through  the  key-hole,,  or  in  at  the 
casement  | 
And  it  needti  must  be  one  that  conid  both  read 
and  write. 

Yet  he  did  not  know 
If  it  were  friend  or  foe, 
Or  whether  it  came  from  above  or  below : 
However,  'twas  civil  in  angel  or  elf, 
For  he  ne'er  could  have  fill'd  it  so  well  of  himself. 
Cho.  Let  censuring,  2cc. 

Even  so  master  doctor  had  puzzled  his  brains 

In  making  a  balhid  but  was  at  a  stand : 
He  had  mix'd  little  wit  with  a  great  deal  of  pains  | 
When  he  found  a  new  help  &om  invisible  hand. 
Then  good  doctor  Swift, 
Pay  thanks  for  the  gift; 
For  you  freely  must  own,  you  were  at  a  dead 
lift: 
And,  though  some  malicious  young  spirit  did  do  % 
You  tnay  know  by  the  hand  it  had  Qocfoven  foot. 
Cho.  Let  censuring,  &,c 


THE  DISCOVERY, 

When  wise  lord  Berkeley  first  came  herei 
Statesmen  and  mob  expected  wonders. 

Nor  thought  to  find  so  great  a  peer 
Ere  a  week  pasl  oommitting  blqpders^ 

Till,  on  a  day  cot  out  by  fate, 

When  folks  came  thick  to  make  their  court^ 
Put  slipt  a  mystery  of  state. 

To  give  the  town  and  country  sport 

Now  enters  Bush  ^  with  new  state  airf^ 

His  Iordsbip*s  premier  minister ; 
And  who  in  all  profound  affairs 

Is  held  as  needful  as  his  clyster  ^, 

With  head  reclining  on  his  shoulder. 
He  deals  and  hears  mysterious  chat. 

While  every  ignorant  beholder 

Asks  of  his  neighbour,  "  Who  is  that  ?"< 

With  this  he  put  up  to  my  lord. 
The  courtiers  kept  their  diittance  due. 

He  twitch'd  his  sleeve,  and  stole  a  word; 
Then  to  a  comer  both  withdrew. 

Imagine  now,  my  lofd  and  Bush 

'  Whispering  in  junto  most  pnofoond, 
like  good  king  Phyz  *  and  good  king  Ush, 
While  all  the  rest  stood  gaping  round. 

1  To  Ireland,  as  one  of  the  lords  justices. 

<  Bush,  by  some  underhand  insinnatkm,  obt^faied 
the  post  of  secretary,  which  had  been  promised  to 
Bwift, 

^  Always  taken  before  my  lord  weat  to  coandl. 

I  See  the  BeheanaL 


At  length  a  spark  not  too  well  brad. 

Of  forward  €sce  and  ear  acute, 
Advanc'd  on  tiptoe,  leaned  his  head. 

To  over-hear  the  grand  dispute : 

To  learn  what  Northern  kings  design. 

Or  firom  Whitehall  some  ne« 
Papists  disarm*d,  or  fall  of  com 

For  sure  (thought  he)  it  can*t  be  lem. 

"  My  lord,"  said  Bush,  **  a  friend  and  I, 
pisguis'd  in  two  old  thread-hare  ooats. 

Ere  morning's  dawn,  stole  out  to  spy 
How  markets  went  for  hay  and  oats.*' 

With  that  he  draws  two  handfuls  ont,  ' 
The  one  was  oats,  the  other  hay  ; 

Puts  tins  to  *s  excellency's  snout. 
And  begs  he  would  the  other  weigh. 

My  lord  seems  pleased,  but  still  directs 
By  all  means  to  bring  down  the  rates  | 

Then,  with  a  congee  circum0ex, 
BuUi,  itmiling  round  on  all,  retreats. 

Our  listener  stood  a  while  oonfus'd. 
But,  gathering  spirits,  wisely  ran  for  % 

EnragM  to  seethe  world  abused  * 
By  two  such  whispering  kings  of  Brentfard. 


THE  PROBLEM, 

TBAT  MT  LOaft^  IBRCBLCT  STtllKS,  WBBli  BE  IS  !« 

ton. 

Did  eyer  problem  thus  perplex. 

Or  more  employ,  the  female  sex  } 

So  sweet  a  passion,  who  would  think, 

Jove  ever  form'd  to  make  a  atiiik } 

Tlie  ladies  vow  and  swear,  tiiey  'U  trjr 

Whether  it  he  a  truth  or  lye. 

Lovers  fire,  it  seems,  like  inward  heat. 

Works  in  my  lord  by  stool  and  sweat. 

Which  brings  a  stink  from  every  pore. 

And  from  behind  and  from  before; 

Yet,  what  is  wonderful  to  tell  it. 

None  but  the  favourite  nymph  can  smell  it, 

Bnt  now,  to  solve  the  natural  cause 

By  sober  philosophic  laws : 

Whether  all  passions,  wlien  in  ferment. 

Work  out  as  angerdoef  in  vermm  ; 

So,  wtien  a  weazel  you  torment. 

Yon  fhMl  his  passioB  by  his  scent. 

We  read  of  kings,  who,  hi  a  fright, 

Tb6ugh  on  a  throne,  would  Mltotlb-N 

Beside  all  this,  deep  scholars  know. 

That  the  main  string  of  Cupid's  how 

Once  on  a  tiqie  was  an  a —  got ; 

Now  to  a  nobler  pffioepot, 

By  favour  or  desert  preferred 

From  giving  passage  to  a  t-— ; 

But  still,  though  fix*d  among  the  stan, 

Does  sjrmpathize  with  human  ik — . 

Thus,  when  you  feel  an  hard-bouod  breed^ 

Conclude  love's  bow-string  at  full  stretch, 

Till  the  Idnd  looseness  oomfls,aiid  thei^ 

Coochide  the  boir  retard  agaiiy. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  SALAMANDER. 


375 


And  now,  tlie  ladies  all  are  beat 
To  try  the  great  experimenty 
AmbitioM  of  a  rigent*8  heait. 
Spread  all  thehr  chamu  to  catch  a  f— ; 
Watchii^  the  first  unsavoury  wtud, 
Some  ply  before,  and  some  behind. 
My  lord,  on  fire  amidst  the  danies, 
F— ts  like  a  laurel  m  the  Qames. 
The  fan  approach  the  speaking  part. 
To  try  the  backway  to  his  heart: 
For,  as  when  we  a  gnn  discharge. 
Although  the  bore  be  ne^er  so  Urge, 
Before  the  flame' Orom  muzzle  bunt. 
Just  at  the  breech  it  flashes  first ; 
So  from  my  lord  his  passion  broke. 
He  f— d  first,  and  then  he  spoke. 

The  ladies  vanish  d  in  the  lAiother, 
To  confer  notes  with  one  another ; 
And  now  they  all  agreed  to  name 
Whom  each  one  thought  the  happy  dame. 
Onoth  Neal, «« Whatever  the  rest  may  think, 
I*m  sure  twas  I,  that  smelt  the  stink.** 
"  You  smeU  the  stink !  by  G-^  you  lye,»» 
Quoth  Rom,  *«  for  FlI  be«wom  »twas  I.*' 
*•  Ladies,**  quoth  Leveng,"  pray  forbear: 
Let*s  not  foil  out ;  we  all  had  share  ; 
And,  ijy  the  most  I  can  discover, 
|f  y  loid  'i  an  nniversal  lover,** 


DESCRIPTION 


A  SALAMAKDEtL  1706. 

FKny,  NA.  Hist,  lib«  x.  c.  67,  lib.  sdx.  c  4^ 

As  mastiff  dogs  in  modern  phrase  are 

Call*d  Pompey,  Scipio,  and  Cassar ; 

Ab  pjm  and  daws  are  often  styPd 

With  Qirhtian  nicknames,  like  a  child  j^ 

As  we  say  monsieur  to  an  ape. 

Without  offence  to  human  shape ; 

So  men  have  got,  from  bird  and  brute. 

Names  that  would  best  their  natures  suit« 

The  lion,  eagle,  fox,  and  boar. 

Were  heroes  titles  heretofore, 

Bestow'd  as  hieroglyphics  fit      \ 

To  show  thehr  valour,  strength,  or  wit : 

For  what  is  understood  byfatme. 

Besides  the  getting  of  a  name  f 

But  e'er  since  men  invented  guns, 

A  diffsrent  way  their  fancy  runs  : 

To  paint  a  hero,  we  inquire 

For  something  tfiat  will  conquer  Jff«. 

Would  you  describe  Tkirenne  or  Trump  ? 

Think  ci*  a  bucket  or  ^pump. 

Are  these  too  low  ?— then  find  out  grander^ 

Call  my  lord  Cixtts  a  Salamander. 

'TIS  well; — ^but,  since  we  hve  among 

Betcactors  with  an  evil  toogoe. 

Who  nmy  object  agaiwrt  the  tenn, 

Pliny  shall  prove  what  we  aflrm  : 

Plmy  shall  phyve,  and  we'll  apply. 

And  I  *11  bejudg*d  by6tande»4»y. 

First,  then,  our  author  has  4060*4 
This  rqytile  of  the  aevpeot  kind. 
With  gaudy  oqat  and  shining  train; 
9at  loathNme  spots  bis  body  stain: 


Out  from  some  hole  obscure  he  files. 
When  rams  descend,  and  tempests  rise. 
Till  the  Sun  clears  the  air;  and  then 
Crawls  back  neglected  to  lUs  den. 

So,  when  the  war  has  rais*d  a  storm, 
I  *ve  seen  a  snake  in  human  form. 
All  stain'd  with  infamy  and  vice. 
Leap  from  tlie  dunghill  in  a  trice. 
Burnish,  and  make  a  gaudy  show;  . 

Become  a  general,  peer,  and  beau. 
Till  peace  has  made  the  sky  serene ; 
Then  shrink  into  its  hole  again. 
"  All  this  w«  grant"— «« Why  then  look  yonder; 
Sure  that  must  be  a  Salamander  !*' 

Farther  we  are  by  Pliny  told. 
This  serpent  is  extremely  cold  j 
So  cold,  that,  put  it  in  the  fire, 
Twill  make  the  very  flames  expire : 
Besides,  it  spues  a  filthy  froth 
(Whether  through  rage  or  lust,  or  both) 
Of  matter  purulent  and  white,  . 
Which,  happeningron  the  skin  to  light. 
And  there  corrupting  to  a  wound. 
Spreads  leprosy  and  baldness  round. 

So  have  I  seen  a  batter'd  beau. 
By  age  and  claps  grown  cold  as  snow, 
Whofte  breath  or  touch,  where-e'er  he  came. 
Blew  out  love's  torch,  or  chill'd  the  flame : 
And  should  some  njrmph,  who  ne'er  was  cruet. 
Like  Charlton  cheap,  or  fam'd  Du-Rnel, 
Receive  the  filth  which  he  ejects, 
She  soon  would  -find  the  same  effects 
Her  tainted  carcase  to  pursue. 
As  from  the  Salamander's  spue ; 
A  dismal  sheddmg  of  j^ei  locks. 
And,      no  leprosy,  a  pox, 
**  Then  I  *ll  appeal  to  each  by-stander. 
If  this  ha  not  a  Salamander  ?'* 


TO  THt 

EARL  OF  PETERBORO)^, 

WBO  tOMMANOCD  tBI  lamSB  FORCIS  IN  8PAI5. 

MoaoAirro  fills  the  trump  of  fame. 
The  Christian  worlds  his  deeds  proclaim. 
And  prints  are  crooded  with  hit  name. 

In  joumies  be  outridestbe  pest. 
Sits  up  till  midnight  with  his  host. 
Talks  politics,  and  gives  the  toast ; 

Knows  every  prince  in  Europe's  fhce. 
Flies  like  a  squib  fiiom  place  to  place. 
And  travels  not,  but  runs  a  race. 

From  Paris  gazette  i-la-vMni, 
This  day  arrived,  without  his  train^ 
Mordanto  in  a  iraek  from  Spain. 

A  wesBcng'gr  comes  all  a*reek, 
Mordanto  at  Madrid  to  seek ; 
He  left  the  town  above  a  wedc 

Next  day  the  post-boy  winds  his  horn, 
And  rides  throngfa  Dover  in  the  nsoni  i 
Mordanto  's  landed  from  Leghorn. 

Mordanto  gallops  on  alone ; 
The  roads  are  with  her  followers  strown  ; 
This  breaks  •  girtb  wd  that  •  bone. 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


576 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


His  body-  actl^  as  his  mind, 
Ketaming  aonnd  in  limb  and  wind, 
Except  some  leather  lost  behind. 

A  skeleton  in  ontwai^  figure, 
His  meagre  corpse,  though  ftill  of  Tigonr, 
Would  halt  behind  him,  were  it  bigger. 

So  wonderful  his  expedition. 
When  you  have  not  the  least  suspicion. 
He's  with  you  like  an  apparition : 

Shines  in  all  climates  like  a  star; 
In  senates  bold,  and  fierce  in  war ; 
A  land  commander,  and  a  tar: 

Heroic  actions  early  bred  in, 
Ne*er  to  be  malch'd  in  modem  reading. 
But  by  his  name-sake,  Charles  •f  Swedeiv 


*  ON  THE  UNWX 

Tbs  queen  has  lately  lost  a  part 

Of  her  BKTiRBLy.tKGLisu  ^  heart; 

For  want  of  which  by  way  of  botch»      • 

She  piecM  it  up  again  with  scotch. 

Blest  revolution !  which  creates 

Divided  hearts,  united  states  I 

See  l^ow  the  double  natkni  lies; 

Uke  a  rich  coat  with  skirts  of  frize: 

As  if  a  mail,  in  making  posies. 

Should  bundle  thbtles  up  with  roses. 

Who  ever  yet  a  union  saw 

Of  kingdoms  without  feith  or  law  ^ 

Hence^rward  let  no  statesman  dare 

A  kingdom  to  a  ship  compare ; 

Lest  he  should  call  our  commonweal 

A  vessel  witli  a  double  keel : 

Which,  just  like  ours,  new  rigg*d  and  manu'd. 

And  got  about  a  league  from  land. 

By  change  of  wind  to  leeward  side. 

The  pilot  knew  not  how  to  guide. 

So  tossing  faction  will  overwhelm 

Cur  cnu(y  double-bottom*d  realm. 


MRS.  BIDDY  FLOYD: 

oa,  THE  tECBirr  to  porm  a  biautt  1. 

When  Cupid  did  his  grandsire  Jove  entreat 
To  form  some  beauty  by  a  new  receipt, 
Jove  sent,  and  found  far  in  a  country-scene 
Truth,  innocence,  good-nature,  look  serene : 
Trom  which  ingredients  first  the  dextrous  boy 
PickM  the  demure,  the  awkward,  aild  the  coy. 
The  graces  from  the  court  did  next  provide 
Breeding,  and  wit,  and  air,  and  decent  pride : 
These  Venus  cleans  from  every  spurious  grain 
Of  nice,  coquet,  affected,  pert,  and  vain. 
Jove  mix*d  up  all,  and  ,his  best  clay  employed ; 
Then  call'd  the  happy  composition  Floyd, 

1  The  motto  on  queen  Anne's  coronation  medaL 

<  An  elegant  Latin  version  of  this  little  poem  is 
in  the  sixth  volame  of  Dryden's  Miflcellames. 


APOLLO  OVrWITTED. 

TO  THE  HONOURABLE    MRS.   PINCH,  AFTBtWARD* 
COUNTESS    OP    WlKCHEtSPA,    UNDER    HER    NAME  J^ 
ABDELIA. 

Pacbbus,  now  shortening  every  shade^ 

Up  to  the  northern  tropic  came. 
And  thenoe  beheld  a  lovely  maid. 

Attending  on  a  royal  daime. 
The  god  laid  down  his  feeble  rays. 

Then  fighted  from  his  glittering  coadi  ; 
But  fenc'd  his  head  with  bis  own  bays, ' 
Before  he  durst  the  nymph  approach. 
Under  those  sacred  leaves,  secure 

From  comnum  lightning  of  the  skies. 
He  fondly  thought  he  might  endure 

The  fiashes  of  ArdeKa's  eyes. 
The  nymph,  who  oft'  had  read  in  bboks 

Of  that  bright  god  whom  bards  invoke. 
Soon  knew  Apollo  by  his  looks. 

And  guess'd  his  business  ere  he  spcke. 
He,  in  the  old  celestial  cant. 

Confessed  his  fiame,  and  swore  by  Styx, 
Whatever  she  woukl  desire,  to  grant-*- 

Bnt  wise  Ardelia  knew  his  tricks. 
Ovid  had  wam*d  her,  to  beware 

Of  stroUmg  gods,  whose  usna)  trade  is. 
Under  pretence  of  taking  air. 

To  pick  up  sublnnary  ladies.     . 
Howe'er,  she  gave  no  flat  denial 
As  havmg  malice  in  her  heart; 
And  was  resolv'd  upon  a  trial» 

To  cheat  the  god  in  his  own  art« 
"  Hear  my  request,*'  the  virgin  said ; 

«« I^  which  I  please  of  all  thfe  Nine 
Attend,  whene'er  I  want  their  aid. 
Obey  my  call,  and  only  rohie." 
By  vow  obliged,  by  passion  led. 

The  god  could  not  refuse  her  prayer : 
He  wav*d  his  wreath  thrice  o*er  her  head. 

Thrice  mutter'd  something  to  the  air. 
And  now  he  thoughtto  seia^e  his  due: 

But  she  the  charm  already  tried. 
Thalia  heard  the  call,  and  flew 

To  wait  at  bright  Ardelia's  side. 
On  sight  of  this  celestial  prude^ 

Apollo  thought  it  vain  to  stay ; 
Nor  in  her  pre^nce  durst  be  rude  ; 

But  made  his^eg,  and  went  away. 
He  bop*d  to  find  some  lucky  hour, 

Whien  on  their  queen  the  Muses  wait : 
But  Pallas  owns  Ardelia's  power ; 

For  vows  divine  are  kept  by  Fkte. 
Then,  full  of  rage,  Apollo  spoke : 

"  Deceitful  nymph  I  I  see  thy  art; 
And,  though  I  can*t  my  gifl  revoke, 

ril  disappoint  its  nobler  part 
*'  Let  stubborn  pride  possess  thee  long. 

And  be  thou  negligentof  fiune ; 
With  every  Muse  to  grace  thy  song, 

May'st  thou  despise  a  poet's  name ! 
'*  Of  modest  poets  thou  be  first ; 

To  silent  shades  repeat  thy  verse. 
Till  Fame  and  Echo  almost  burst. 
Yet  hardly^are  one  line  rehearse^ 


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VANBRUGH'S  HOUSE. 


377 


^  \  lagt,  my  TcngeMce  to  eomplete, 
Alay'st  thou  descend  to  take  renown, 
Pre^aUM  on  by  the  thing  you  hate, 
A  Whig !  and  one  that  wcare  agown  !" 


FAKBRUGH*S  HOUSE, 

■UII.T  raOM  THl  RUIUS  OF  WHITBHALL,  1706  '. 

1  n  times  of  old,  when  Time  was  young, 
And  poets  their  own  verses  sung. 
A  vers^  would  draw  a  stone  or  beam, 
That  now  would  over-load  a  team  ; 
Lead  them  a  dance  of  many  a  mile. 
Then  rear  them  to  a  goodly  pile. 
Each  number  had  its  different  power  : 
Heroic  strains  could  build  a  tower ; 
Simnets,  or  elegies  to  Chloris, 
^flight  raise  a  house  about  two  stories^ 
Alvric  ode  would  slate ;  a  catch 
Would  tile ;  an  epigram  would  thatch. 
But,  to  their  own  or  landlord's  cost. 
Now  poets  feel  this  art  is  lost. 
Not  one  of  all  our  tuneful  throng 
Can  raise  a  lodging /or  a  song : 
For  Jove  con&ider'd  well  the  case, 
Observ*d  they  grew  a  numerous  race ;  * 
And,  should  they  build  as  fast  as  write, 
*Twould  ruin  undertakers  quite. 
This  evil  therefore  to  prevent. 
He  wisely  chang*d  their  element : 
On  Earth  the  god  of  wealth  was  made 
Sole  patron  of  the  building  trade  -, 
I^eaving  the  wits  the  spacious  air. 
With  licence  to  build  catties  there : 
And,  *tis  conceived,  their  old  pretence 
To  lodge  in  garrets  comes  from  thence. 

Premising  thus,  m  modem  way. 
The  better  hairwe  have  to  say : 
Sing,  Muse,  the  house  of  poet  Van 
In  higher  strains  than  we  began. 

Van  (for  tis  fit  the  reader  know  it) 
Is  both  a  herald  and  a  poet ; 
No  wonder,  then  if  nicely  skilPd 
In  both  capacities  to  build. 
As  herald,  he  can  in  a  day 
Repair  a  house  gone  to  decay ; 
Or,  by  atchievement,  arms,  device, 
£rect  a  new  one  m  a  trice  : 
And,  as  a  poet,  be  has  skill 
To  bnUd  in  speculation  still. 
«*  Great  Jove  !"  he  cryM,"  the  art  restore 
To  build  by  verse  as  heretofore, 
Ai^  make  my  Muse  the  architect ; 
MThat  palaces  shall  we  erect  t  ' 

No  kN^  shall  forsaken  Thames 
Lunent  his  old  Whitehall  in  flames; 
A  pile  shall  from  its  ashes  rise. 
Fit  to  mvade  or  prop  the  skies." . 

Jove  smilM,  and,  like  a  gentle  god, 
Ojnseoting  with  the  usual  nod. 
Told  Van,  be  knew  his  talent  best. 
And  left  the  choice  to  his  own  breast. 
So  Van  resolv»d  to  write  a  farce  ; 
•Bat,  well  perceiving  wit  was  scarce. 
With  cunning  that  defect  supplies ; 
Takes  a  Fretkch  play  as  lawful  prize ; 

>  S^tlte  note  io  the  next  page. 


Steals  thence  his  plot  and  every  joke. 

Not  one  suspecting  Jove  would  smoke  ; 

And  (like  a  wag  set  down  to  write) 

Would  whisper  to  himself,  a  bite  ; 

Then,  from  this  motley,  ipingled  style. 

Proceeded  to  erect  his  pile. 

So  men  of  oW,  to  gain  renown,  did 

Build  Babel  with  their  tongues  confiranded. 

Jove  saw  the  cheat,  but  thought  it  best 

To  turn  the  matter  to  a  jest : 

Down  from.01ympus'  top  he  slides, 

Laughing  as  if  he  *d  burst  his  sides : 

"  Ay,"  thought  the  god,"  are  these  ytur  tricks  ? 

Why  then  old  plays  deserve  old  bricks  ; 

And,  since  you  *re  sparing  of  your  stuff. 

Your  building  shall  be  small  enough." 

He  spake,  and,  grudging,  lent  his  aid ; 

Th»  experienced  bricks,  that  knew  their  trade, 

(As  being  bricks  at  second-hand). 

Now  move,  and  now  in  order  stand. 

The  building,  as  the  poet  writ. 
Rose  in  proportion  to  his  wit : 
And  first  the  Prologue  built  a  wall 
So  wide  as  to  encompass  all. 
The  Scene  a  wood  produced,  no  more 
Than  a  few  scrubby  trees  before. 
The  Plot  as  yet  lay  deep  5  and  so 
A  cellar  next  was  dug  below : 

But  this  a  work  so  hard  was  fimnd. 
Two  Acts  it  cost  him  under  ground : 

Two  other  Acts  we  may  presume. 

Were  spent  in  building  each  a  room. 
Thus  far  advanced,  he  made  a  shift 

To  raise  a  roof  with  Act  the  Fifth. 

The  Epilogue  behind  did  frame 

A  place  not  decent  h?re  to  name. 
Now  poets  from  all  quarters  ra.i 

Tb  see  the  house  of  brother  Van; 

Looked  higli  and  low,  walk'd  often  round  i 

But  no  such  house  was  to  be  fxind. 

One  asks  the  watermen  hard-by, 

"  Where  may  the  poet's  palace  lie  ?" 

Another  of  the  Thames  mquires. 

If  he  has  seen  its  gilded  spires^ 

At  length  they  in  the  rubbish  spy 

A  thing  resembling  a  goose-pye. 

Thither  in  haste  the  poets  throng. 

And  gaze  in  silent  wonder  long, 

Tdl  one  in  raptures  thus  began 

To  praise  the  pile  and  builder  Van : 
"  Thrice  happy  poet ! ,  who  may'st  trail 

Thy  house  about  thee  like  a  snail ; 

Or,  hamess'd  to  a  nag,  at  ease 

Take  joumies  in  if  like  a  chaise ; 

Or  in  a  boat  whene'er  thou  wilt. 

Canst  make  it  serve  thee  for  a  tilt  f 

Capacious  house  !  tis  own'd  by  all 

Thou  'rt  well  contrived,  though  thou  art  small : 

For  evary  wit  in  Britain's  itl8 

May  todge  withm  thy  spacious  pOe. 

like  Bacchus  thou,  as  poets  feign. 

Thy  mother  burnt,  art  bom  again. 

Bom  like  a  phenix  from  the  flame; 
But  neither  bulk  nor  shape  the  same: 
As  animal^  of  largest  size 
Corrapt  to  maggots,  wamis,  and  flies  ; 
A  type  of  modem  wit  and  style. 
The  rubbish  of  an  ancient  pile. 
So  chymistB  boast  they  have  a  power 
Fttxn  tho  dead  ashes  of  a  flower 


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i79 

Some  fiunt  reaemUance  16  prodnoe, 
But  not  the  virtoe,  taste^  or  jutce : 
So  modern  rbymere  wisely  faiaat 
The  poetry  of  ages  post ; 
Which  after  they  have  overthrovn. 
They  from  iU  ruins  build  their  own. 


TWO  RIDDLES,  1707  K 

L    ON  A  FAN. 

From  Indians  burning  clime  I'm  brought. 

With  cooling  gates  like  Zephyrs  draught. 

Not  Iris  when  she  points  the  sky. 

Can  show  more  different  hue  than  I : 

Nor  can  she  change  her  form  to  fast ; 

I'm  now  a  sail,  and  now  a  mast : 

I  here  am  red,  and  there  am  green  | 

A  beggar  there,  and  here  a  queen. 

I  sometimes  live  in  house  of  bair^ 

And  oft*  in  hand  of  iady  Dur : 

I  please  the  young,  I  grace  the  oW, 

And  am  at  once  both  hot  and  cold : 

Say  what  I  am  then,  if  you  can, 

And  find  the  rhjrme,  and  you  *re  the  man. 


YOUR  house  of  hair,  and  lady's  hand, 
At  first  did  put  me  to  a  stand. 
I  have  it  now — 'tis  plain  enough~> 
Your  hairy  business  is  a  muJT, 
Your  engine  fraught  with  cooling  gales, 
At  once  so  like  your  masts  and  sails ; 
Your  thing  of  various  shape  and  hue. 
Must  be  some  painted  toy,  I  knew : 
And  for  the  rh3rme  to  jfou  're  the  man^ 
What  fiu  it  better  than  a/on  9 

II.    ONABEAr. 

I  *M  wealthy  and  poor, 

I  'm  empty  and  full, 
I  'm  h*jmble  and  proud, 

I  'm  witty  and  dull. 

I  »m  ibul,  and  yet  fair ; 

I  'ro  old,  and  yet  young  : 
J  lie  with^oll  K— r, 

And  toast  Mrs.  ■■ 

ANSWER,   BT  MR.  F— R. 

Ill  rigging  he  's  rich,  though  in  pocket  he  's  poor; 

He  cringes  to  courtiers,  and  oockli  to  the  cits ; 
Like  twenty  be  4hresse5,  but  looks  like  threescore ; 

He  's  a  wit  to  the  fools,  and  a  fool  to  the  wits. 
Of  wisdom  he  *s  empty,  but  full  of  conceit ; 

He  paints  and  perfumes,  whHe  he  rots  with  the 

acab;  (gait; 

*Tis  a  Beau  you  may  swear  by  his  sense  and  ho 

He  boasts  of  a  beauty,  and  lies  with  a  drab. 

1  Originally  commnnicatod  by  Swift  to  Oldiswoith, 
w1io  published  them  in  The  Muses  Mereury,  1709. 
Some  other  amusemeats  of  the  same  natme,  writ- 
ten about  1724,  nwy  be  leea  tnwne 
pages  of  this  voluma; 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


THE  HfSToar  cfr 
VAyURVGWS  HOUSE  K 

WuEN  mother  Clod  had  rose  from  plaj. 
And  caird  to  take  the  cards  away. 
Van  saw,  butsoemM  not  to  regard. 
How  Jitju  j)ick*d  every  {tinted  card. 
And,  busy  both  with  hand  and  eye. 
Soon  rear'd  a  house  two  stories  high. 
Van's  genius f  without  thought  or  lecture. 
Is  hugely  tum'd  to  architecture  : 
He  view'd  the  edifice,  and  smil'd, 
Vow'd  it  was  pretty  fbr  a  child  ^ 
It  was  so  perfect  in  its  kind. 
He  kept  the  moiel  in  his  nind. 

But,  when  he  found  the  boys  atplay» 
And  saw  them  dabbling  in  their  clay. 
He  stood  behind  a  staH  to  lurk. 
And  mark  the  progress  of  thdr  work  j^ 
WiUi  true  delight  observed  them  all 
Raking  up  mudvo  baild  a  wall. 
The  plan  he  much  admir'd,  and  took 
The  model  in  his  table4xK>k  ; 
Thought  himself  now  exactly  skill'd. 
And  so  resolv'd  a  house  to  build : 
A  real  house,  with  rooms,  and  statrs. 
Five  times  ki  least  as  big  as  theirs ; 
Taller  than  Misses  by  two  3raTds ; 
Nut  a  sham  thing  of  clay  or  cards : 
And  so  he  did  ;  for,  m  a  while, 
He  built  up  such  a  moDstroos  pile. 
That  no  two  chairmen  could  be  found 
Able  to  lift  it  from  the  ground. 
Still  at  Whitehall  it  stands  in  view. 
Just  in  the  place  wher&first  it  grew ; 
There  all  the  little  school-boys  nm. 
Envying  to  see  themselves  out-done. 

From  such  deep  rudiments  as  these^ 
Van  is  become  by  doe  degrees 
For  building  &m'd,  and  justly  reckoned, 
\i  court,  Vitruvins  the  second; 
I  No  wonder,  since  wise  authors  show 
That  best  foundations  must  be  low  : 
And  now  the  duke  has  wisely  ta'ea  him 
To  be  his  architect  at  Blenheim. 

But,  raillery  for  once  apart. 
If  this  rule  holds  in  every  crt ; 
Or,  if  his  grace  were  no  more  ^H'd  in 
The  art  of  battering.walls  than  bniMiDgr, 
We  might  expect  to  see  next  year 
A  fnoiiie-^n^man  chief  engineer ! 


BAUCIS  AND  PmLEMOS. 

ON  TH£  tVER-LAMKMTED  LOSS  OF  IVRTWO  TtW-TIICS 
IN  THE  FARlSa  OP  CBILTHORNZ,  •OMeaSBt'.    1708. 

IMrrATBD  FROM  TWt  EIOBTH  aOOK  OV  OTtD. 

In  ancient  times,  as  story  tells. 
The  saints  would  often  leave  their  celb. 
And  stroll  about,  but  hide  their  qoalky^ 
To  try  good  people's  hospitality. 

1  Dr.Swift  made  sir  John  Vanbragh  ample  ameadi 
for  the  pointed  taiUery  of  tbb  and  the  poefei  ia  th» 
preceding  page,  ia  Ihe  Preface  to  to  Miictillfniki 
1727.    N. 


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BAUCIS  AND  PHILEMON. 


^79 


It  happeoM  on  a  winter-night, 
jU  autbora  of  the  legend  write, 
Two  brotber^hennits,  sar»t8  by  trade, 
Takiog  their  tottr  in  masquerade, 
Dttguis'd  in  tatter'd  habits,  went 
To  a  small  village  down  in  Kent ; 
Where,  in  the  strollers'  cantipg  strain. 
They  begg>d  fipom  door  to  door  in  vain. 
Tried  every  tone  might  pity  win; 
Bat  not  a  soul  would  let  them  in. 

Oar  wandering  saints,  m  woful  state. 
Treated  at  this  nngodty  rate, 
Harmg  throagh  all  the  vilUge  past. 
To  a  small  cottage  came  at  last ! 
Where  dwelt  a  good  old  honest  ye'man, 
Call'd  in  the  neighboiuhoud  Philemon  | 
Who  kindly  did  these  saints  invite 
In  his  poor  hut  to  pass  the  night  2 
And  then  the  hospitable  sire 
Bid  goody  Baucis  niend  the  fire ; 
While  he  from  out  the  chinmey  took 
A  flitch  of  bacon  off  the  hook, 
And  freely  from  the  fiittest  side 
Cut  out  large  slices  to  be  fryM ; 
Then  stepped  aside  to  fetch  them  drrok» 
Fiird  a  large  jug  up  to  the  brink. 
And  saw  it  &irly  twice  go  round ; 
Yet  (what  is  wonderful  I)  they  found 
nVas  still  replenished  to  the  top, 
As  if  they  ne'er  had  touch'd  a  drop. 
The  good  old  couple  were  amaz*d. 
And  often  on  each  Otlier  gaz'd ; 
For  both  were  fHghten*d  to  the  heart. 
And  juu  began  to  cry, — **  What  ar*t  !*» 
Then  softly  tum*d  aside  to  view 
Whether  the  lights  were  burning  blue. 
The  gentle  pilgrhnt^  soon  aware  oa% 
Tokl  them  their  calling,  and  their  errand  t 
"  Good  folks  you  need  not  be  afraid. 
We  are  but  sairUt,"  the  hermits  said; 
'*  No  hurt  shall  come  to  you  or  yours : 
Bot  for  that  pack  of  churlish  boors, 
Not  fit  to  live  on  Christian  ground. 
They  and  their  house/shail  be  drown'd  ; 
Whilst  you  shall  see  your  cottage  rise. 
And  grow  a  church  before  your  eyes," 

They  scarce  had  spoke,  when  fair  and  toft 
The  roof  began  to  mount  aiofi ; 
Aloft  rose  every  beam  and  rafter ; 
The  heavy  wall  climb'd  slowly  after. 

The  chimney  widen'd,  and  grew  higher^ 
Became  a  steeple  with  a  spire. 

The  kettle  to  the  top  was  hoist, 
And  there  stood  fastened  U>  a  joist. 
Bat  with  the  upside  down,  to  show 
Its  incrination  for  below : 
In  vain  ;  for  a  soperior  force, 
Apply'd  at  bottom,  atops ito  coorie; 
Doomed  ever  in  suspense  to  dwell « 
Tis  now  no  kettle,  but  a  bell. 

A  wooden  jack,  which  had  alntit 
liost  by  disuse  the  art  to  roasty 
A  sodden  alteration  feels, 
loereas'd  by  new  intestine  wheels ; 
And,  what  exalts  the  wonder  more. 
The  number  made  the  motkm  slower :    • 
The  flier,  though  *t  had  leaden  feet, 
Tora'd  round  80  quick,  you  aoaroe  ooiilA  lao^  t » 
But,  slackened  by  some  secret  power, 
^ow  hardly  mores  an  kuh  an  boor. 


The  jack  and  chimney,  near  aUsr*^ 
Had  never  left  each  other's  side  : 
The  chimney  to  a  steeple  grown. 
The  jack  would  not  be  left  akme ; 
But,  up  against  the  steeple  rear'd. 
Became  a  clock,  and  still  adher'd ; 
And  still  its  love  to  househokl  cares. 
By  a  shrill  voice  at  noon,  declares. 
Warning  the  cook-maid  not  to  bum 
That  ruast  meat  which  it  cannot  turn. 
The  groaning-chair  began  to  crawl. 
Like  a  huge  snail,  aton^  the  wall; 
There  stuck  aloft  in  public  view. 
And,  with  small  change,  a  pulpit  grew. 

The  porringers,  that  in  a  row 
Hung  high,  and  made  a  glittering  show. 
To  a  less  noble  substance  cbaog'^ 
Were  now  but  leathern  buckets  rang*d. 

The  ballads,  pasted  00  the  wall. 
Of  Joan  of  Fraqpe,  and  English  MoU, 
Fair  Rosamond,  and  Robin  Hood, 
The  Little  Children  in  the  Wood, 
Now  seem'd  to  look  abundance  better, 
ImprovM  in  picture,  size,  and  letter  j 
And,  high  m  order  plac'd,  describe 
The  heraldry  of  every  tribe  *. 

A  beadsteitd  of  the  antique  mode, 
Compact  of  timber  many  a  load. 
Such  as  our  ancestors  did  use. 
Was  metamorphos'd  into  pews ; 

Which  still  their  ancient  nature,  keq> 

By  lodging  folks  disposM  to,sleep. 
The  cottage  by  such  fimts  as  these 

Grown  to  a  church  by  just  degrees. 

The  hermits  then  desir'd  their  host 

To  ask  for  what  he  fancy'd  roost. 

Philemon,  having  paus'd  a  while, 

Retum'd  them  thanks  in  homely  style : 

Then  said,  "  My  house  is  grown  so  fine, 

Methinks  I  still  would  call  it  mine; 

Pm  old,  and  fain  Would  live  at  ease  ? 

Make  me  the  parson,  if  you  please." 
He  spoke  and  presently  he  feels 

His  grazier^s  coat  fall  down  his  heels : 

He  sees,  yet  hardly  can  believe. 

About  each  arm  a  pudding-sleeve ; 

His  waistcoat  to  a  cassoc  grew. 

And  both  axsum'd  a  sable  hue ;  ^ 

But,  being  old,  continued  just 

As  thread-bare,  and  as  full  of  dust 

His  talk  was  now  of  tithes  and  dues  : 

He  smokM  his  pipe,  and  read  the  news ; 

Knew  how  to  preach  old  sermons  next. 

Vamped  in  the  preface  and  the  text ; 

At  christenings  well  could  act  his  part. 

And  had  the  service  aH  by  heart; 

Wished  women  might  have  children  fiast. 

And  thought  whose  son  had  iarrow'd  last ; 

Against  cJ/Aiea/ert  would  repine. 

And  stood  up  firm  lor  right  divine  ; 

Found  his  head  fiU*d  with  many  a  eystem  s 

But  classic  authon, — he  ne*er  mi8s*d  'em. 
Thus  having  furt^  d  up  a  parson. 

Dame  Baucis  next  they  play 'd  their  &ice  qq. 

Instead  of  home-spun  coift,  were  seen 

Good  pinners  edg*d  with  eolberteen; 

^  The  tribesof  Israel  are  sometimes  disiuiguisl»4 
in  country  chaicha  hy  the  ensigns  given  to  them 
by  Jacob. 


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SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Her  petticoat,  traosfbrm'd  apace, 
Became  black  sattin  0ouDC'd  witii  lace. 
Plain  Goody  would  no  longer  down ; 
'Twas  MadatHy  m  ber  program  gown. 
Philemon  waisin  great  furprise. 
And  hardly  could  believe  his  eytft, 
Amaz'd  to  see  her  look  so  prim ; 
And  she  admir'd  as  much  at  hhn. 

Thus  happy  in  their  change  of  life 
Were  several  yean  this  man  and  wife;    • 
When  on  a  day,  which  proved  their  last, 
Discourshig  o'er  old  stories  past^ 
They  went  by  chance,  amidst  their  talk. 
To  the  church-yard  to  take  a  walk ; 
When  Baucis  hastily  cry'd  out, 
"  My  dear,  I  see  your  forehead  sprout !"  [us  ? 

"  Sprout !''  quoth  the  man ;  <<  what 's  thin  you  tell 
I  hope  you  don't  believe  me  jealous  ! 
But  yet,  methinks,  I  feel  it  true ; 
And  really  yours  is  budding  too — 
Nay, — ^now  I  cannot  stir  my  foot; 
It  feels  as  if  *twere  taking  root" 

Description  wouki  but  tire  my  Muse ; 
In  short,  they  both  were  tnm*d  to  yrtw. 

Old  Goodman  Dobsou  of  the  gfeett 
Bemembers,  he  the  trees  has  seen ; 
He  HI  talk  of  them  from  noon  till  night. 
And  goes  with  folks  to  show  the  sight : 
On  Sundays,  after  evrnin^-prayer. 
He  gathers*^  all  the  parish  there ; 
Points  out  the  place  of  either  yevo  ; 
Here  Baucis,  there  Philemon,  grew  : 
Till  once  a  parson  of  our  town, 
To  mend  his  bam,  cut  Baucis  down ; 
At  which  *tis  hard  to  be  believed 
How  much  the  other  tree  was  griev*d,  - 
Grew  scrubbed,  dy*d  a-top,  was  stuntf^d ; 
So  the  next  parson  stubbed  and  burnt  i^ 


ELEGY 

ON  THB  SOPPOSBD  DEATH  OP  PARTIIOCB,  THE 
ALMAHACK-MAKBR.      1708. 

Well  ;  tis  as  Bickerstaff  has  guess'd, 
Though  we  all  took  it  for  a  jest  r 
Partridge  is  dead ;  nay  more,  he  dy'd 
lire  he  could  prove  the  good  'squire  ly'd. 
Sitange,  an  astrologer  should  die 
Without  one  wonder  in  the  sky ! 
Not  one  of  all  his  crony  stars 
To  pay  their  duty  at  his  hearse  ! 
No  meteor,  no  eclipse  appear'd  ! 
No  comet  with  a  flaming  beard  ! 
The  Sun  has  rose,  and  gone  to  bed,. 
Just  as  if  Partridge  were  not  dead ; 
Nor  hid  4iimself  behind  the  Moon, 
To  make  a  dreadful  night  at  noon. 
He  at  fit  periods  walks  through  Aries, 
However  our  earthly  motion  varies ; 
And  twice  a  year  he*U  cut  th*  equator* 
As  if  there  had  been  no  such  matter. 

Some  wits  hkve  wooder'd  what  analogy 
There  is  'twixt  codling  '  and  astrology  ; 
How  Partridge  made  his  cptks  rise, 
Fiom  a  ikoe-toU  to  reach  the  akies. 


^  Partridge  was  a  cobler. 


A  list  the  cobler's  temples  ties. 
To  keep  the  hair  out  of  his  eyes ; 
From  whence  *\m  plain,  the  diadem 
That  princes  wear,  derives  from  them  r 
And  therefore- crovnj  are  now-a-days 
Adom'd  with  golden  start  and  rays  ; 
Which  plainly  shows  the  near  alliance 
Twixt  cotling  and  the  planets  science, 

Bi^des,  that  slow-pac'd  sign  Bootes, 
As  'tis  miscaird,  we  know  not  who  tis : 
Hut  Partridge  ended  all  disputes ; 
He  knew  his  trade,  and  call'd  it  ^  boots. 

The  horned  moon,  which  heretofore 
Upon  their  shoes  the  Romans  wore. 
Whose  wideness  kept  their  toes  from  coms^ 
And  whence  we  claim  our  shoeing-homs^ 
Shows  bow  the  art  of  cabling  bears 
A  near  resemblance  to  tb<t  spheres, 

A  scrap  ksX  parchment  htmg  by  geometrf 
(A  great  refinement  in  baromeiry) 
Can,  like  the  stars,  fbretel  the  weather; 
And  what  is  parchment  else  but  leather  f" 
Which  an  astrologer  might  use 
Either  for  almanacks  or  s^t. 

Thus  Partridge  by  hb  wit  and  parts 
At  once  did  practise  both  these  arts  r 
And  as  the  boding  owl  (or  rather 
The  bat,  because  ber  wmgs  are  leather} 
Steals  firom  her  private  cell  by  night, 
And  flies  about  the  candle-light : 
So  learned  Partridge  couM  as  well 
Creep  in  the  dark  from  leathern  cell. 
And  in  his  fancy  fly  as  far 
To  peep  upon  a  twinkling  star. 

Besides,  he  could  confound  the  spheres^ 
And  set  the  planets  by  the  ears ; 
To  show  his  skill,  he  Mars  could  join 
To  Venus  in  aspect  malign  ; 
Then  call  in  Mercury  for  aid. 
And  cure  the  wounds  that  Venus  made.. 

Great  scholars  have  in  Lucian  read. 
When  Philip  king  of  Greece  was  dead, 
H  s  tout  and  yiArit  did  divide, 
And  each  part  took  a  difterent  side : 
One  rose  a  star :  the  other  fell 
Beneath,  and  mended  shoes  in  Hell. 

Tlius  Partridge  still  shines  in  each  art«, 
The  cobling  and  star-gazing  part ; 
And  is  installed  as  good  a  star 
As  any  of  the  Caesars  are. 

Triumphant  star !  some  pity  show 
On  coblers  militant  below, 
Whom  roguish  bojrs,  in  stormy  nights, 
Torment  by  pis^ng  out  their  lights ; 
Or  through  a  chink  convey  their  smoka^ 
Enclosed  artificers  to  choke. 

Thou,  high  exalted  in  tl*y  q>here. 
May'st  follow  still  thy  calling  there. 
To  thee  the  Bull  will  lend  his  hide. 
By  Phflsbus  newly  tann'd  and  dry'd ; 
— For  thee  they  Argo*s  hulk  will  tax. 
And  scrape  her  pitchy  skies  for  wax  : 
Then  Ariadne  kmdly  lends 
Her  braided  haur  to  make  the  ends : 
The  points  of  Sagittarius'  dart 
Turns  to  an  awl  by  heavenly  art ; 
And  Vulcan,  wheedled  by  his  wife. 
Will  fbi^  tor  thee  a  paring-knife. 

sseehif  aknasML^ 


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THE  MORNING. 


J8i 


l^or  want  of  room  \/f  Virgo's  mde. 
She '11  strain  a  point,  and  get  astride. 
To  take  tbee  kindly  in  btttceen ; 
And  then  the  signt  will  be  tkirieen. 

THB  EPITAPH. 

Hbu,  five  feet  deep,  lies  on  his  back, 
A  coUer,  starmonger,  and  quack  ; 
Who  to  the  ttart  in  pure  good- will' 
Does  to  his  best  look  upward  still. 
Weep,  all  you  customers  that  use 
Hia  jniUf  his  almanacks^  or  shoes : 
And  you  that  did  your  fortunes  seek. 
Step  to  his  grave  but  once  a  week  : 
This  earth  which  bears  his  body's  print. 
You'll  find  has  so  much  virtue  in  't. 
That  I  durst  pawn  my  ears  *twill  tell 
Whatever  concerns  you  full  as  well. 
In  physic,  stolen-goods,  or  love. 
As  he  himself  could,  when  above. 


MERLIN'S  PROPHECY,  1709. 

ScTSM  and  ten  addyd  to  nine. 
Of  Fraunce  her  woe  this  is  the  sygne  ; 
Tamys  riTere  twys  y-fpozen, 
Waike  sans  wetyng  shoes  ne  hozen. 
Then  contyth  (borthe,  ich  understonde, 
From  towne  of  stoffe  to  fattyn  londc. 
An  hardie  chiftan  S  woe  the  mome. 
To  Fraonce  that  evere  he  was  bom. 
Then  shall  the  fyshe  ^  beweyte  his  bosse ; 
Nor  shall  grin  berrys  ^  nu|ke  up  the  losse, 
Yonge  Symnele  *  shall  again  miscarrye ; 
And  Norways  pryd  ^  a^ain  shall  marrey : 
And  from  the  tree  ^here  blosums  feele, 
Rife  fruit  shall  come,  and  all  is  wele. 
Reaums  shall  daunce  honde  in  honde  ^, 
And  it  shall  be  mer3re  in  old  Inglonde ; 
Then  old  Inglonde  shall  be  no  more. 
And  oo  man  shall  be  sorie  therefore. 
Geryon  ''  shall  have  three  hedes  agayne, 
Tdl  Hapsburge  *  makyth  them  but  twayna. 


A   DESCIIPTION   OP 

THE  MORNING.     1709. 

Now  hardly  here  and  ihere  an  hackney  coach 
Appearing,  show'd  the  ruddy  Mom's  approach. 
Now  Betty  from  her  master's  bed  had  flowo, 
And  softly  stole  to  discompose  her  own ; 
The  slipshod  'prentice  from  his  master's  door 
Had  par*d  the  dirt,  and  sprinkled  round  the  floor. 
Now  Moll  had  ^liirPd  her  mop  with  dextrous  airs, 
Pr^MT'd  to  serab  the  entry  and  the  stairs. 
Hie  youth  with  broomy  stumps  began  to  trace 
The  kennel's  edge,  were  wheeb  had  worn  the  place. 

«  D.  of  Marlborough.     «  The  dauphin. 

•  D.  of  Berry.  *  The  young  pretender. 
3  Q.  Anne. 

*  By  the  Union. 

"^  A  king  of  Spain  slain  by  Hercules. 
*The  archduke  Charles  was  of    the  Hapsburg 
family. 


The  smalh^xml-xtam  was  heard  with  cadence  deep. 
Till  drown*d  in  shriller  notes  of  chimney-sweep. 
Duns  at  his  lordship's  gate  began  to  meet ; 
And  brick-dust  Moll  had  scream'd  through  half  the 
The  turnkey  now  his  flock  returning  sees,    [street 
Duly  let  out  a^nights  to  steal  for  fees : 
The  watchful  bailifis  take  their  silent  sUods, 
And  schooUboiys  lag  with  satchels  in  their  hands. 


A  OCSCtlPTION  OP 

A  CITY-SHOWER, 

IN  IMITATION  OP  VIRCIL's  CEORCICS.    1710. 

Carefui  observers  may  fbrtel  the  hour 

(By  sure  ^gnostics)  when  to  dread  a  shower. 

While  ram  depends,  the  pensh^  cat  gives  o'er     ' 

Her  frolics,  and  pursues  her  tail  no  more. 

Returning  home  at  night,  you  '11  iSnd  the  sink 

Strike  your  offended  sense  with  double  stink. 

If  you  be  wise,  then  go  not  far  to  dine; 

You  'U  spend  in  coach-hire  more  than  save  in  wine. 

A  coming  shower  your  shooting  corns  presage. 

Old  aches  will  throb,  your  hollow  tooth  will  rage. 

Sauntering  in  coffee-bouse  is  Dulman  seen  ; 

He  damns  the  climate,  and  complains  of  spleen . ' 

Meanwhile  the  south,  rising  with  dabbled  wings. 
A  sable  cloud  athwart  the  welkin  flings. 
That  swill'd  more  liquor  than  it  could  contain. 
And,  like  a  dmnkard,  gives  it  op  again. 
Brisk  Susan  whips  her  linen  from  the  rope. 
While  the  first  drizzling  shower  is  borne  aslope  ; 
Such  is  that  sprinkling  which  some  careless  quean 
Flirts  on  you  from  her  mop,  but  not  so  clean : 
You  fly,  invoke  the  gods  •  then,  turning,  stop 
To  rail  J  she,  singing  still  whh-h  on  her  mop.  * 
Not  yet  the  dust  bad  sHimn'd  th'  unequal  strife. 
But  aided  by  the  wind,  iot^ht  still  for  life  j 
And,  wafM  with  its  fbe  by  violent  gust, 
'Twas  doubtful  which  was  rain,  and  which  was  dust. 
Ah!  where  must  needy f  poet  seek  for  aid. 
When  dust  and  rain  at  once  his  coat  invade  ? 
Sole  coat !  where  dust  cemented  by  the  ram 
ErecU  the  nap,  and  leaves  a  cloudy  stain  I 

Now  in  contiguous  drops  the  fl«)od  comes  down 
Threatening  with  deluge  this  devoted  town.  ' 

To  shops  in  crowds  the  daggled  females  fly. 
Pretend  to  cheapen  goods,  but  nothing  buy! 
The  templar  spruce,  while  every  spout  's  abroach. 
Stays  till  'tis  fair,  yet  seems  to  call  a  coach. 
The  tuckd-up  semstress  walks  with  hasty  strides 
While  streams  ron  down  her  oil'd  umbrella's  sides. 
Here  various  kinds,  by  various  fortunes  led. 
Commence  acquaintance  underneath  a  shed*. 
Triumphant  Tories  and  desponding  Whigs 
Forget  their  fwds,  and  join  to  save  their  wigs. 
Box'd  in  a  chair,  the  beau  impatient  sits,  • 
While  spouts  ron  clattering  o'er  the  roof  by  fits 
And  ever  and  anon  with  frightful  din  * 

The  leather  sounds;  he  trembles  from  within. 
So  when  Troy  chairmen  bore  the  wooden  steed 
Pregnant  with  Greeks  impatient  to  be  freed      ' 
(Those  bully  Greeks,  who,  as  the  modems  do. 
Instead  of  paying  .chairmen,  ran  them  through) 
Laocoon  strack  the  outside  with  his  spear. 
And  each  imprisoned  hero  quak'd  for  fear. 


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382 


SWIFTS  POEMS* 


Now  from  all  parts  tbe  sireiriiig  kennels  flow, 
And  bear  their  trophies  with  them  ais  they  go :  ' 
Filths  of  all  hoes  and  odours. seem  to  tell 
What  street  thfy  sail'd  from  by  their  sight  and  smelL 
They,  as  each  torrent  drives,  with  rapid  force, 
Trom  Smithfield  or  Sit  'PolchTe's  shape  their  course. 
And  in  huge  confluence  joined  at  Snowhill  ridge. 
Fall  from  the  ctmduit  prone  to  Holbofti  bridge. 
Sweepings  from  butcben^  stalls,  dung,  guts,  and 
blood,  [mud, 

Drowned  puppies,  slinking  sprats,  all  drench'd  in 
Dead  cats,  and  ti^mip-tops,  come  tumbling  down 
the  flood. 


OK 

THE  LITTLE  HOUSE 

BY  Tflk  CHUBCB-TAKD  OP  CASTLEVOOE^      1710. 

Whobtek  pleaaeth  to  inquire 
Why  yonder  steeple  wants  a  spire. 
The  grey  old  fellow  poet  *  Joe 
The  philosophic  cause  will  show. 
Once  on  a  time  a  western  blast 
At  least  twelve  inches  overcast. 
Reckoning  roof,  weathercock,  and  all. 
Which  came  wHh  a  prodigious  fidi ; 
And  tumhig  topsy-turvy  round. 
Light  with  its  bot^m  on  the  ground  | 
For,  by  the  laws  of  gravitation, 
It  fell  into  its  proper  station. 

This  is  the  bttle  strutting  pile. 
You  see  just  by  the  church-yard  stile  ; 
The  walls  m  tumbling  gave  a  knock ; 
And  thus  the  steeple  got  a  shock; 
From  whence  the  neighbouring  fiirmer  calls 
The  steeple,  Kjtock ;  the  vicar,  WaUs  *. 

Tlie  vicar  once  a  week  creeps  in, 
Sits  with  his  knees  up  to  his  chin  ; 
Here  conns  his  notes,  and  takes  a  whet, 
TUl  the  small  ragged  flock  is  met. 

A  traveller,  who  by  did  pass. 
Observed  the  xoof  behbd  the  grass ; 
On  tiptoe  stood,  and  reared  his  snout. 
And  saw  the  parson  creeping  out ; 
Was  mudi  surpns*d  to  see  a  Crow 
Venture  to.  build  his  nest  so  low. 

A  school-boy  ran  unto  %  and  thought. 
The  crib  was  down,  the  blackbird  caught. 
A  third,  who  lost  his  way  by  night, 
Wasforc'd  for  safety  to  alight; 
And,  stepping  o*er  the  febric-roef. 
His  horse  had  like  to  spoil  his  hoof. 

Warburton  ^  took  it  in  has  noddle. 
This  building  was  designed  a  model 
Or  of  a  pigeon-house  or  oven, 
To  bake  one  loaf,  and  keep  one  dove  m. 

Then  Mrs.  Johnson  *  gave  her  verdict. 
And  every  one  was  pleased  that  heard  it : 
All  that  you  make  this  stir  about. 
Is  but  a  still  which  wants  a  spout. 
The  reverend  Dr.  Raymond  ^  gwns'd 
More  probably  than  all  the  rest  i 

1  Mr.  Beaumont  of  Trim, 
s  Arohdeacon  Wall,  a  corref^ndent  of  Swift's. 
9  Dr.  Swifi*s  curate  at  Laracor.        *  Stella. 
5  Minister  of  Trim. 


He  said,  butt^at  it  wanted  rOMtf, 
It  might  have  been  a  pigmy's  tomli 

The  doctor's  family  came  by. 
And  little  miss  began  to  cry ; 
Give  me  that  house  hi  my  own  baiid; 
Then  madam  bade  the  chariot  stand, 
Call'd  to  the  clerk,  in  manner  mild, 
'*  Pray,  reach  that  thitig  bete  to  the  child  9 
Thdt  thing,  1  mean,  among  the  kale : 
And  h^rc  's  to  buy  a  pot  tJ  ale.*' 

The  clerk  said  to  her,  in  a  heat, 
*'  '^^llat!  sell  my  master's  countiy  seat. 
Where  he  comes  every  week  from  towu  f 
He  would  not  sell  it  for  a  crown." 
Poh  !  follow,  keep  not  such  a  pother ; 
In  half  an  hour  thou  'It  mdke  another. 

Sajrs  Nancy,  «  **  I  can  make  for  im» 
A  finer  house  ten  times  than  this ; 
The  Dean  will  give  me  wUlow-stidu, 
And  Joe  my  apron-full  of  bricks." 


THE  VIBTUBt  OP 

SW  HAMET  THE  MAGIClAITSf 

ROD, 

1710 

The  rod  was  bat  a  harmless  wand, 
While  Moses  held  it  in  his  hand ; 
But,  soon  as  e'er  he  laid  it  down, 
Twas  a  devouring  serpent  grown. 

Our  great  magician,  Hamet  Sid, 
Reverses  what  the  prophet  did : 
Hb  rod  was  honest  English  wood. 
That  senseless  in  a  coroer  stood. 
Till,  metamorpbos'd  by  his  grasp. 
It  grew  an  all-devouring  asp ; 
Would  hiss,  and  sting,  and  roll,  and  twisty 
By  the  mere  virtue  of  his  fist ; 
But,  when  he  laid  it  down,  as  quick 
ResumM  the  figure  of  a  stick. 

So  to  her  midnight-feasts  the  hag 
Rides  on  a  broomstick  for  a  nag. 
That,  rais'd  by  magic  of  her  breech. 
O'er  sea  and  land  conveys  the  witch  ; 
But  with  the  mornmg-dawn  resumes 
The  peaceful  state  of  common  brooms. 

They  tell  us  something  strange  and  odA 
About  a  certain  magic  rod  ^, 
That,  bending  down  its  top,  divines 
Whene'er  the  soil  has  golden  mines  ; 
Where  there  are  none,  it  stands  erect. 
Scorning  to  show  the  least  respect. 
As  ready  was  the  xcand  qf  Sid 
To  bend  where  golden  minei  were  Wd  ^ 
in  Scottish  hills  found  precious  ore  < , 
Where  none  e'er  look'd  for  it  before  ^ 
And  "by  a  gentle  boio  divin'd. 
How  well  a  cuUyH  pone  was  Un'd  | 
To  a  forlorn  and  broken  rake 
Stood  without  motion,  like  a  stake» 

^  The  waiting  womaii. 

1  The  vtr^tt^  divina,  said  tote  atlrartud  Iff  wA- 
nerals. 
*  Supposed  to  aUode  to  the  Unioa. 


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ATLAS. 


389 


The  rod  of  Hermes  was  renowned 
For  charms  above  and  under  giound; 
To  sleep  cotild  mortal  eye-lids  fix. 
And  drive  departed  souls  to  Styx. 
l*hat  rod  was.just  a  type  of  SklN, 
Which  o'er  a  British  senate's  lids , 
Coold  scatter  (fp'mm  full  as  well. 
And  drive  as  many  souU  to  Heli. 

Sid*s  rod  was  slender,  white,  and  tall, 
Which  oft»  be  usM  to/*A  withal ; 
A  piaice  was  fabton^d  t«  the  hook, 
And  many  score  of  gudgeons  took : 
Yet  still  so  happy  was  his  fate, 
He  caught  his fsh,  and  sav'd  his  /aV. 

Sid's  brethren  of  tlie  conjuring  tribe 
A  circle  with  their  rod  describe, 
"Which  proves  a  mugtcal  redoubt 
To  keep  mijchievous  spirits  out. 
Sid's  rod  was  of  a  larger  stride, 
And  made  a  circle  thrice  as  wide. 
Where  spirits  throng'd  with  hideous  din, 
And  he  stood  there  to  take  them  in  : 
fiut  when  th'  enchanted  rod  was  Inroke, 
They  vanish'd  in  a  stinking  smoke. 

Achilles'  sceptre  was  of  wood. 
Like  Sid%  but  nothing  near  so  good ; 
That  down  horn  ancestors  divine 
Transmitted  to  the  hero's  line. 
Thence,  through  a  long  descent  of  kings. 
Came  an  hiii-lOom,  as  Homer  sings. 
Though  this  description  looks  so  big. 
That  iceptre  was  a  sapless  twig, 
Which,  from  the  fatal  day,  when  first 
It  left  the  forest  Where  Hwas  nurs'd. 
As  Homer  tells  us  o'er  and  o'er, 
Nor  leaf,  nor  fruit,  nor  blossom,  bore. 
Sid's  sceptre,  fiill  of  juice,  did  shoot 
in  golden  boughs,  and  golden  fruit ; 
And  he,  the  dragon  never  sleeping, 
Ooardod  each'feir  Hesperian  pippin. 
No  hobby-kt/rsey  with  gorgeous  top, 
The  dearest  in  Charles  Mather's  3  shop, 
Or  glittering  tinsel  of  May-fair, 
Could  with  this  rod  of  Sid  compare. 

Dear  Sid,  then,  why  wcrt  thou  so  mad 
To  break  thy  rod  like  naughty  lad  ! 
You  should  have  kiss'd  it  in  your  distress, 
And  then  returned  it  to  your  mistress  ;. 
Or  nMde  it  a  Newmarket  *  switch, 
And^.ot  a  rod  for  thy  own  breech. 
But  smce  old  Sid  has  broken  this, 
liis  next  may  be  &  rod  in  jnu. 


ATLAS; 
OR,  THE  MLNISTER  OF  STATE- 

TO  THE 

LORD  TREASURER  OXFORD.    1710. 

Atlas,  we  read  in  ancient  soag. 
Was  so  exceedm'g  tall  and  strong, 

3  Ao  emment  toyman  m  Fleet^street 

*  Lord  Godolphin  is  satirized  1^  Mr.  Pope  for  a 

•trong  attachments  to  the  tttr£       See  his  Mor»l 

EsMyi. 


He  bore  the  skies  upon  1^  back, 
Just  as  a  pedlar  does  his  pack : 
But,  as  a  pedlar  overpress'd  « 

Unloads  upon  a  stall  to  rest ; 
Or,  when  be  can  no  longer  stand, 
Desbes  a  friend  to  lend  a  hand ; 
So  Atlas,  lest  the  ponderous  spheres 
Should  sink,  and  ^11  about  his  ears. 
Got  Hercules  to  bear  the  pile. 
That  he  might  sit  and  rest  a  while. 

Yet  Hercules  was  not  so  strong. 
Nor  could  have  borne  it  half  so  long. 

Great  statesmen  are  in  this  condition; 
And  Atlas  is  a  politician, 
A  premier  minister  of  state  ; 
Alcides  one  of  second  rate. 
Suppose  then  Atlas  ne'er  so  wise ; 
Yet,  when  the  weight  of  kingdoms  lies 
Too  long  upon  his  single  shoulders. 
Sink  down  he  must,  or  find  upholder 


A  TOJFN  ECLOGUE.    1710. 
Scene,  the  soyal  bxchance. 

COKTDON. 

Now  the  keen  rigour  of  the  winter  's  o'er. 
No  hail  descends,  and  frosts  can  pinch  no  more  ; 
Wliilst  other  girls  confess  the  genial  spring. 
And  laugh  aloud,  or  amorous  ditties  sing. 
Secure  from  cold  their  lovely  necks  display. 
And  throw  each  useless  cha&ig-dish  away ; 
Why  sits  my  Phillis  discontented  here. 
Nor  feels  the  turn  of  tlie  revolving  year  ? 
Why  on  that  brow  dwell  aolrrow  and  dismay 
Where  loveswere  wont  to  sport,  and  smiles  to  play  } 

Phillis.    Ah,    Corydon^    survey  the  'Ckange 
around. 
Through  all  the  'Change  no  wretch  like  me  b  fbind : 
Alas  !  the  day  when  1,  poor  heedless  maid. 
Was  to  your  rooms  in  Lincoln's-Inn  betrayM ; 
Then  how  you  swore,  how  many  vows  you  m^de  ! 
Ye  listeniro?  Zephyrs,  that  o'erheard  his  love. 
Waft  the  soft  accents  to  the  gods  above. 
Alas!  the  day;  for  (oh,  eternal  shame !) 
I  sold  yon  handkerchiefii,  and  loft  my  fame. 

Cor.  When  I  forget  the  favour  you  bestow*d, 
Retl  herrings  shall  be  spawn'd  in  Tyburn  Road, 
Fleet-street  t^ansform'd  become  a  flowery  green. 
And  mass  be  sung  where  operas  are  seen  j 
The  wealtliy  cit,  and  the  St.  James's  beau. 
Shall  Change  their  quarters,  and  their  joys  forego; 
Stock-jobbing  this  to  Jonathan's  shall  come. 
At  the  Groom  Porter's  that  play  oflf  his  plum. 

Phil.  But  what  to  me  does  aH  that  love  avail. 
If,  while  I  doze  at  home- o'er  porter's  ale. 
Each  night  with  wine  and  wenches  you  regale  } 
My  live-long  hours  in  anxious  cares  are  past. 
And  raging  hunger  lays  my  beauty  waste. 
On  templars  spruce  ia  vain  1  glanioes  throw. 
And  with  shrill  voioe  invite  them  as  they  go. 
Expos'd  in  vain  my  glossy  ribbands  shine. 
And  unregarded  wave  upon  the  twina 
The  week  flies  rouod ;  and,  when  my  profit's  knows, 
I  hardly  clear  enough  to  change  a  crown. 

Cor.  Hard  fate  of  virtue,  thus  to  bedift(est. 
Thou  fairest  of  thy  trade,  and  far  the  best ! 


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dS4 


SWIFTS  PO£MS. 


As  fruitinen*s  stalls  the-stunmer-market  gnce. 
And  ruddy  peaches  them ;  as  first  in  place 
Plum-cake  is  seen  o*er  smaller  pastry  ware. 
And  ice  on  that;  so  Phillis  does  appear 
In  play-house  and  in  park,  above  the  rest 
Of  belles-mechanic,  elegantly  drest 

PHit.  And  yet  Crepundia,  that  conceited  fiur, 
Amidst  her  toys,  affects  a  saucy  air, 
Aiid  views  me  hourly  with  a  scomfiil  eye. 

Cor.  She.mightas  well  with  bright  Cleoravie. 

PrtiL.  With  this  large  peticoat  I  strive  in  vain 
To  hide  my  iblly  past,  and  coming  pain : 
Tis  now  no  secret ;  she,  and  fifty  more, 
Observe  the  symptoms  I  had  once  before : 
A  second  babe  at  Wapping  must  be  plac'd. 
When  I  scarce  bear  the  charges  of  the  last  [plnras, 

Cur.    What  I  could  raise  I  sent;  a  pound  olf 
Five  shillings,  and  a  coral  for  hn  gums ; 
To  morrow  I  intend  him  something  more. 

Phil.  I  sent  a  finock  and  pair  of  shoes  before.    . 

Cor.  However,  you  shall  home  with  me  to-night. 
Forget  your  cares,  and  revel  In  delight 
I  have  in  store  a  pint  or  two  of  wine,  •" 

Some  cracknels,  and  the  remnant  of  a  chine.  *     « 

And  now  on  either  side,  and  all  around. 
The  weighty  shop-boards  fall  and  bars  resound ; 
Each  ready  semstress  slips  herpattins  on. 
And  ties  her  hood,  preparing  to  be  gone. 


EPITAPH. 

mSCRIBED  oil  A  MARBLE  TABLET,  INBRRKELIT  CHURCB. 


CarolakComei  de  Bfitdey,  Vicwomefl  Dortler, 

Baro  Berfcc1er«  de  Btrkeley  Catt.  MowbriT » s^crave 

El  Bnice,  i  Nobilitaimo  ordine  Balati  Eqet, 

Vlr  ad  fCDoa  quod  spcctat  *  Proavea  uaqiicqaaque  If obiUi» 

£t  loaio,  si 'quia  a'liut  Procerom  itemmate  edUofls 

11  aniia  etiam  tain  iUostrl  ttirpi  dlgala  insignUui. 

Siqaidcn  4CulicliikO  m«ad  ordiDea  toderatl  Bclsll 

Abtocatoi  Ac  PtenipoCcntlarioi  ExtraordiDartua 

Rfbns,  oon  BriUnnic  t4DUim.  wd  toUua  fere  Europa 

(Tnoc  tenporia  pneaertim  ardoii)  per  asoea  V.  incaboit. 

aaan  fielici  dlUceotii,  fide  quaai  iotemcrall. 

Ex  iHo  diacas.  Lector,  quod,  aup^rttite  Patre, 

In  Magnataro  ordinen  adaciacl  merueril. 

Fuit  i  aanctioribai  coesiliis  A  Regi  GulieU  A  Adok  BefUwr, 

E  Prorcgibui  Hiberolc  aecundns, 

Comitatoum  Civitatunque  Clocest.  A  Briat.t>omious  Locamteocni, 

Sorrlx  A  Cloccai.  Cottoa  Rot  Vrbis  Clocest.  magnus 

Scncscana«,  Arcis  tancti  de  Briavell  CastcUaoui, 

Goardianus  Forests  deDeao. 

Pcitiqoe  ad  Turcarum  primbm,  deinde  ad  Romao.  Imperatorem 

Cum  Legatoa  Cxtraordioariui  deaignaiua  enet. 

Quo  minus  has  etiam  ornaret  prorinciaa 

obsiitit  adrersa  corporis  Taletudo. 

fed  res'ai  adhuc,  pre  quo  aordewont  cetera, 

Hooos  venis,  stabilis,  et  ret  mortl  cedere  nesditt, 

Qood  TerHatem  ErangcUctn  serio  ampkxaa ; 

Brga  Deum  pies,  erga'panperes  mnnidcos, 

Adrersbs  omncs  cquos  A  beacrolai, 

lo  Cbriaio  Jam  ptecldi  obdormic 

com  eodcn  olim  regnaturoa  uni. 

HaiBS  VUI«  April.  MDCXUX  deBaloi 

XX1V«  Scptcm.  MDCCX.  CUL  iiur  LXJl. 


THE  FABLE  OF  MWAA 

1711. 

Midas,  we  are  in  story  told, 
Turn*d  every  thhig  he  touch'dHo  gold: 
He  ckip^d  his  beard ;  the  pieces  rotmd 
Glittered  like  spangles  on  the  ground : 
A  codling,  ere  it  went  his  lip  in. 
Would  straight  become  a  golden  pippin: 
He  caird  for  drink  ;  you  saw  him  sup 
Potable  gold  in  golden  cup : 
His  empty  paunch  that  he  might  fill. 
He  sucked  his  victuali  through  a  quill : 
Uutouch*d  it  pass'd  between  his  grinders. 
Or  't  bad  been  happy  f.)r  gold-Jinders : 
He  cock'd  his  hat,  you  would  have  said 
Mambrino^s  helm  adomM  his  head : 
Whene'er  he  chanc'd  his  hands  to  lay 
On  magazinei  of  com  or  hay. 
Gold  rndy  coined  appear'd,  instead 
Of  paltry  provender  and  bread  ; 
Hence  by  wise  farmers  we  are  told. 
Old  Aoy  is  equal  to  old  gold ; 
And  hence  a  critic  tleep  maintains. 
We  leam'd  to  weigh  our  gold  by  grains. 

This  fool  has  gtk  a  lucky  Hit; 
And  people  fancyM  he  had  wit 
Two  gods  their  skill  in  music  try*d. 
And  both  chose  Midas  to  decide : 
He  against  Pho^btts'  harp  decreed. 
And  gave  it  for  Pan*s  oaten  reed : 
The  god  of  wit,  to  show  his  grudge, 
Clapt  atsei  ears  upon  the  judge  ; 
A  gWly  pair  erect  and  wide, 
Whidi  he  conld  neither  gild  nor  hide. 
And  now  the  virtue  of  bis  hands 
Was  lost  amon^  Pactolus'  sands. 
Against  whose  torrent  while  he  swims, 
Tlie  golden  scurf  peels  off  his  limbs : 
Fame  spreads  the  news,  and  people  travel 
From  far  to  gather  golden  gravel ; 
Midas,  expos'd  to  all  their  jeers. 
Had  lost  his  art,  and  ke^t  his  ears, 

THIS  tale  inclines  the  gentle  reader 
To  think  upon  a  certain  leader  ; 
To  whom,  frcjn  Midas  down,  descends 
That  virtue  in  the  fingers'  ends. 
What  else  by  perquisites  wee  meant. 
By  pensions f  biribeSf  and  three  per  cent. 
By  places  and  commissions  sold. 
Ana  tumhig  dung  itself  to  gold  f 
By  starving  in  the  midst  of  store. 
As  t'other  Midas  did  before  ? 

None  e'er  did  modem  Midas  chuse. 
Subject  or  patron  of  his  Muse, 
But  found  him  thus  their  merit  scan, 
That  Phoebus  must  give  place  to  Pan : 
He  values  not  the  poet's  praise, 
Nor  will  exchange  his  plums  Tor  bays. 
To  Pan  alone  rich  misers  call ; 
And  there  »s  the  jest,  for  Pan  is  ALt. 
Here  English  wits  will  be  to  seek, 
Howe'er,  His  all  one  in  the  Greek, 

Besides,  it  plainly  now  appears 
Our  Midas  too  ha^  aues*  ears ; 
Where  every  fool  his  month  applies » 
And  whispers  in  a  thousand  lii^ : 


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THE  WINDSOR  MlOPHESY. 


385 


Sodi  grow  delnnons  cduM  not  pas 
llirough  any  ears  but  of  an  att. 

But  gold  defiles  with  frequent  tooch ; 
There  *•  nothmg  Ibuls  the  hand  lo  much  : 
And  acfaobn  give  it  for  the  cauae 
Of  Bridah  Midas'  dirty  pawa  ; 
Which  while  the  unhte  atruve  to  aooar, 
They  wath'd  away  the  ekemc  power. 

While  he  his  titmoat  strength  apply'd. 
To  swim  against  this  popuUar  titU, 
The  golden  spoils  flew  off  apace  j  ' 

Here  fell  a  ptntkm,  there  a  pUce  ; 
The  torrent  merciless  imbibes 
Communont,  perauisitei,  and  brihee. 
By  their  own  weight  sunk  to  the  bottom  ; 
JHuck  good  may  do  them  that  have  caught  *em  f 
And  Bfidas  now  neglected  stands; 
With  attet*  eon,  and  dhrty  hand*. 


AN   EXCBLLSMT 

NEW  SONG.    1711. 

■inco  TBB  nrnniBB0  sfsicH  of 

A  FAMOUS  ORATOR  AGAINST  PRACE* . 

A»  orator  dimal  of  Nottinghamshire, 
Who  has  forty  jnears  let  out  his  conscience  to  hire. 
Out  af  zeal  for  his  country,  and  want  qf  a  place, 
Is  oocne  op,  ot  if  anus,  to  breah  the  queen*s  peace. 
He  has  vamp'd  an  old  speech ;  and  the  court,   to 

their  sorrow. 
Shall  hear  him  harangue  agaiMt  Prior  tomorrow. 
When  once  he  b^ins,  he  never  will  flinch. 
But  repeato  the  same  note  a  whole  day,  like  a  Finch. 
I  have  heard  all  the  speech  repeated  by  Hoppy, 
And,  "  mistakes  to  prevent,  I  've  obtained  a  copy." 

THE  SPEEC!!. 

WHER&AS,  noiwilhsiandmg,  I  am  m  great  pain. 
To  hear  we  are  making  a  peace  wit^ut  Spain  ; 
Bat,  most  noble  senators,  *tis  a  great  shame. 
There  diould  be  a  peace,  while  I  *m  Not-in^game, 
The  duke  show*d  me  all  his  fine  house;  and  the 
dutchess  [clutches. 

From  her  closet  bronght  ont  a  foil  purse  in  her 
I  talk'dof  a  peace,  and  they  both  gave  a  sUrt ; 
His  grace  swore  by  0--d,  and  her  grace  let  a  f— t: 
My  hng  oU-fashion'd  pocket  was  presently  cramm'd ; 
And  aoooer  dian  vote  for  a  peace  1  Ml  be  dann'd. 

Bat  some  will  cry  Turn-coat,  and  rip  up  old  sto- 
How  I  always  pretaaded  to  be  for  the  Tories,  (ries, 
I  awswer  I  the  Tories  were  in  my  good  graces. 
Till  ail  my  relations  were  pot  into  places : 
Bat  still  I  'm  in  principle  ever  the  same,       [gasne. 
And  will  quit  my  best  friends  while  I  *m  Not-tn^ 

When  1  and  some  others  subscribed  our  names 
To  m  ploC  for  expelling  my  master  king  Jametf ; 
I  wHbdrew  my  subscription  by  help  of  a  blot, 
Aai  ao  Might  discover  or  gain  by  the  plot : 

>  The  lord  treasurer  havmf  hinted  a  wish  one 
evenhig  that  a  ballad  nngfat  be  made  on  the  earl  of 
Nottingham,  this  song  was  written  and  printed  the 
next  mondng. 

VOL.  XL 


I  had  my  advantage,  and  stood  at  defiance. 
For  Daniel  was  gi>t  from  the  den  of  the  lions  : 
I  came  in  without  danger,  and  was  I  to  blame  } 
For,  rather  than  hang,  I  would  be  Not-in-game. 

I  swore  to  the  queen,  that  the  prince  of  Hanover 
During  her  sacred  life  would  never  come  over : 
I  made  use  of  a  trope  ;  that  '*an  heir  to  invite, 
Was  tike  keeping  her  monument  always  in  sight" 
But,  when  I  thought  proper,  I  altered  my  note; 
And  in  her  own  hearing  I  boldly  did  vote, 
That  her  majesty  stood  in  great  need  of  a  tutor. 
And  must  have  an  old  or  a  yonng  coadjutor : 
For  why ;  I  would  fain  have  put  all  in  a  flame. 
Because,  for  some  reasons,  T  was  Koi-in-game, 

Now  my  new  bentf actors  have  brought  me  about, 
And  I  Ml  vote  against  peace,  with  Spain,  or  without. 
Though  the  court  gives  my  nephews,  and  brothers^ 

and  cousins. 
And  all  my  whole  fomily,  pldces  by  dozens ; 
Yet,  since  I  know  where  tL  full-purse  may  be  found 
And  hardly  pay  eighteen-pence  tax  in  the  ^und ; 
Since  the  I'ories  have  thus  disappointed  my  hopes. 
And  will  neither  regard  my, figures  nor  trapes  ; 
I  Ml  speech  against  peace  while  Dismal  *s  my  name. 
And  be  a  true  Whig,  while  I  am  Not-in-game, 


THE  WINDSOR  PROPHESY  \.  1711. 

When  a  holy  black  Swede,  the  son  qf  Bob  ^, 
With  a  saint  >  at  his  chin,  and  a  seal  ^  at  his  fob. 
Shall  not  see  one  New.year*s-day  *  in  that  year^^ 
Then  let  old  England  make  good  chear: 
Windsor  ^  and  Bristow  ^  then  shall  be 
Join*d  together  in  tho  Low-eountree  \ 
Then  shall  theUll  black  Daventry  Bird^ 
Speak  against  peace  right  many  a  word  ; 
.And  some  shall  admire  his  coaying  wit. 
For  many  good  groats  his  tongue  shall  slit 
But,  spight  of  the  Harpy  that  crawls  on  all  four. 
There  shall  be  peace,  pardie,  and  war  no  more. 
But  England  must  cry  alack  and  well-a-day. 
If  the  stick  be  taken  from  the  dead  sea. 
And,  dear  England,  if  aught  I  understond. 
Beware  of  Canots  '^  from  Northusnberlond, 

>  It  IS  said  that  queen  Anne  bad  nominated  0r. 
Swift  to  an  Engflish  bishopric;  which  was  opposed 
by  J)^  Sharp,  archbishop  of  Yoric,  andthedutchesa 
of  Soilierset,  1^  had  prevailed  on  his  grace  to  go  with 
her  to  the  queen  to  lay  aside  thenominatkm,  which 
her  migeity  refosed ;  but,  the  datehess  foiling  on 
her  knees,  and  showing  the  abore  prophecy  to  her 
majesty,  the  bishopric  was  given  to  another.  See 
p.  389. 

<  Dr.  John  Robiosod,  Insbop  of  Bristol,  one  of  the 
plenipotentiaries  at  Utrecht 

3  He  was  dean  of  Windsor,  and  lord  privy-seal. 

<  The  new  stvie  (which  was  not  used  in  Great- 
Britain  and  Irelaiid  till  17M)  was  then  observed  lih 
most  puts  of  Europe.  The  bishop  set  out  from 
England  the  latter  end  ofOeoember,  O.  SL ;  and,oq 
his  arrival  et  Utrecht,  by  the  variation  of  the  ityK 
he  found  January  somewhat  advanced. 

^  Alhiding  to  ttie  deanery  and  biAopno  b^ng 
posaesMl  by  the  aune  person,  llbeft  at  l&Mht. 
'  Eaff  of  Nottingham. 
''ThedntdieMafBoiBeiiet  \ 

Cc 


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386 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


CarroU  sotim  T^ynru  ^  a  ileep  root  may  get. 

It  so  be  they  are  m  Somer  set: 

Thair  Conyngt  mark  »  thou ;  for  I  have  been  told, 

They  atsatsine  when  young,  and  poison  when  old. 

Jioot  oat  the«4e  Carrots^  O  thou  »o  ,  whose  name 

Is  backwards  and  forwards  alwayn  the  same  ; 

And  keep  close  to  tlu*e  always  that  name. 

Which  backwards  and  (brwants  ts  almost  the  tame  >  ^ 

And,  Enfrlond,  woitldst  thou  be  happy  still. 

Bury  those  CarroU  under  a  Hill '«. 


EPIGRAM  EXTEMPORE, 
%r 

DR.  SWIFT  \ 

Os  Britain  Europe*s  safety  lies^ 
Britain  is  losit  if  Harley  dies: 
Harley  depends  upon  your  skill ; 
Think  what  you  save,  or  what  you  kill. 


EPIGRAM.     1712. 

As  Thomas  was  cudgeVdone  day  by  his  wife, 
He  took  to  the  street,  and  fled  for  his  life : 
Tom's  three  dearest  friends  caine  by  in  the  squabble. 
And  savM  him  at  once  from  the  shrew  and  the  rabble ; 
Then  ventured  to  give  him  some  sober  advice — 
But  Tom  is  a  person  of  honour  so  nice. 
Too  wise  to  takecotmscl,  too  proud  to  take  warning. 
That  he  sent  to  all  three  a  challenge  next  morning  j 
Three  duels  he  fought,  thrice  ventured  his  life ; 
Went  home,  and  was  cudgePd  again  by  bis  wife. 


CORISKA.    1712. 


.    This  day  (the  year  I  dare  not  tell) 

Apollo  plavM  the  midwife^s  part ; 
Into  the  world  G>rinna  fell. 

And  he  endowM  her  with  his  art 
But  Cupid  with  a  Satyr  comes : 

Both  sotUy  to  the  cradle  creep ; 
Both  stroke  her  hands,  and  rub  her  gums. 

While  the  poor  child  lay  hst  asleep. 
Then  Cupid  thus:  "  this  little  maid, 

Of  love  shall  always  speak  and  write.** 
"  And  I  pronounce**  (the  Satyr  said) 

«  The  worid  shall  feel  her  scratch  and  bHe.** 

>  Thomas  Thjmne,  of  Longleate,  esq;  a  gentle- 
man of  very  great  estate,  married  the  above  lady 
after  the  death  of  her  first  husband,  Ueory  Caven- 
dish earl  of  O^le,  only  son  to  Henry  duke  of  New- 
castle, to  whom  she  had  been  betrothed  in  her  in- 
fancy. 

*  Coant  Koningsnuurk. 

10  Anka. 

1^  Mash  AM. 

>>  Lady  Masham's  maiden  name  was  HiU. 

1  Inscribed  to  the  physician  who  attended  Bir. 
TTarley  whilst  be  lay  wounded.  Ste  Journal  to 
Stella,  Feb*  19,1711-12.    ^• 


Her  talent  she  display'd  betimes  $ 

For  in  twice  twelve  revolving  moons. 
She  seemed  to  laugh  and  squall  m  rhym«4« 

And  all  her  gestures  were  lampoons. 
At  six  years  old  the  subtle  jade 

Stole  to  the  pantry-door,  and  found 
The  butler  with  my  lady's  miid : 

And  you  may  swear  tlie  tale  went  round* 
She  made  a  song,  how  little  miss 

Was  kiss'd  and  slobber*d  by  a  lad  : 
And  how,  when  master  went  to  p — , 

Miss  cam^  and  peep*d  at  all  he  had. 
At  twelve  a  wit  and  a  coquette ; 

Marries  for  love,  half  whore,  half  wife; 
Cuckolds,  elopes,  and  runs  in  debt ; 

Turns  authoress,  and  h  Curll*8  for  life» 


i  ^ 
*    G 

»;.it. 


TOLAND'S  INVITATION  TO  DISMAU 

TO  DINK  Wrra  THE  CALTES-READ  CLIT»  '. 

Imitated  from  Horace,  libu  I,  epist.  5.       { 

If,  dearest  Dismal,  you  for  once  can  dine 
Upon  a  shigle-dish,  and  tavern-wine, 
Toland  to  you  this  invitajlitn  sends. 
To  eat  the  calvps-head  with  your  trusty  fr«end«. 
Suspend  awhile  your  vain  ambitious  hopes. 
Leave  hunting  after  bribes,  forget  your  tropes. 
Tomorrow  we  our  mystic  f  east  prepare,  , 

Where  thou,  our  Utest  proulyte,  sbalt  share: 
When  we,  by  proper  signs  and  symbols,  tell. 
How,  by  brave  hands,  the  roy€d  traitor  fell ; 
The  meat  shall  represent  the  tyrant's  head. 
The  wine  his  blood  our  predecessors  shed ; 
Whilst  an  alluding  hymn  some  artist  sing!«. 
We  toast,  **  Confusion  to  the  race  of  kiugs  !** 
At  monarchy  we  nobly  show  our  spight. 
And  talk  xehat  fools  call  treason  all  the  night. 

Who,  by  disgraces  or  ill-fortune  sunk. 
Feels  not  his  soul  enliven'd  when  he  *s  drunk  ? 
Wine  can  clear  up  Oodolphin's  cloudy  Hice, 
And  (ill  Jack  Smith  with  hopes  to  keep  his  place : 
By  force  of  wine,  ev'n  Scarborough  is  brave, 
Hal  grows  more  pert,  and  Somers  ^ot  so  grave ; 
Wine  can  give  Portland  wit,  and  Cleveland  sense, 
Montague  learning,  Bolton  eloquence : 
t)holmondeley,  when  drunk,  can  never  lose  his  wand; 
And  Lincoln  then  imagines  he  has  land.. 

My  province  is,  to  see  that  all  be  right. 
Glasses  and  linen  clean,  and  pewter  bright ; 
From  our  mysterious  club  to  keep  out  spies. 
And  Tories  (dressed  like  waiters)  in  disguise. 
You  shall  be  coupled  as  you  best  approve. 
Seated  at  table  next  the  men  you  love. 
Sunderland,  Orford,  Boyle,  and  Richmond's  gra«y, 
Will  come;  and  Hampden  shall  have  Wa^wlei 
Wharton,  unless  prevented  by  a  whore,       [place, 
Will  hardly  foil;  and  there  is  room  for  more. 
But  I  love  elbow-room  whenever  I  drink; 
And  honest  Harry  <  is  too  apt  to  stink. 

1  This  poem,  and  that  which  follofws  it,  iretwocf 

the  penny  ptAers  mentioned  hi  9wift*s  Jonival  ts 

Stella,  Aug.  7,  1712.  They  are  there  printed  froa 

folio  copies  in  tiie  Lambeth  library.    N, 

i  Right  hon.  Henry  Boyle,  mentioned  tsrwe  bsfore. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


PEACE  AND  DUNKIRK. 


387 


Xjet  no  pretence  of  business  make  you  stay ; 
'et  take  one  word  of  counsel  by  the  way. 
.''  Guernsey  calh,  send  word  you  're  gone  abroad ; 
tie  '11  teiftse  you  with  kmg  Charles  and  bishop  Laud, 
Or  make  you  fast,  and  carry  you  to  prayers : 
Bnt,  if  he  will  break-in,  and  «a1k  up  stairs. 
Steal  by  the  back-door  out,  and  leave  him  there ; 
Then  order  Squash  to  call  a>hackney-chair. 


PEACE  AND  DUNKIRK: 

BBfKG    AN     BXCBLLKtrr    NBW     tONO    UPON    THK   8TJB- 

rbndkr  op  zhjnkirk  to  gbnbaal  hill.     171q. 

to  tub  tune  op  "  the  kino  shall  enjot  his  own 
aoaim'*. 

_  V 

Spicut  of  Dutch  friends  and  English  fbes» 

Poor  Britain  shall  have  peace  at  last : 
Holland  got  towns,  and  we  got  blows ; 
But  Dunkirk's  ours,  we  Ml  hold  it  fast : 
We  have  got  it  in  a  string, 
And  the  Whigs  may  all  go  swing. 
For  among  good  friends  I  love  to  be  plain; 
All  their  false  deluded  hopes 
Will  or  omght  to  end  in  ropes : 
But  the  queen  thall  enjoy  her  own  again, 
Sunderland  's  run  out  of  his  wits. 

And  Dismal  double-dismal  looks; 
Wharton  can  only  swear  bjr  fits. 
And  strutting  Hal  is  off  the  hooks; 
Old  Godolphm  full  of  spleen 
Made  false  moves,  and  lost  his  queen : 
Harry  look*d  fierce,  and  shook  his  ragged  mane; 
But  a  prince  of  high  renown 
Swore  he  M  rather  lose  a«rown, 
'Dutn  the  queen  shouid  enjoy  her  oum  again. 
Our  merchant-ships  may  cot  the  line. 

And  not  be  snapt  by  privateers ; 
And  commoners  who  love  good  wine, 
WHl  drink  it  now  as  well  as  peers : 
Landed-men  shall  have  their  rent,  , 
Yet  our  stocks  rise  cent  per  cent. 
Ttue  Dutch  from  hence  shall  no  more  millions  drain : 
We  *l\  bring  on  us  no  more  debts^ 
Nor  with  bankrupts  fill  gazettes; 
And  the  queen  shall  enjoy  her  own  again. 
The  towns  we  took  ne'er  did  us  good : 
What  signified  the  French  to  beat  ? 
We  spent  our  money  and  our  blood,        ' 
To  make  the  Dutchmen  proud  and  great : 
But  the  lord  of  Oxford  swears, 
Dunkirk  never  shall  be  theirs. 
The  Dutch-hearted  Whigs  may  rail  and  complain ; 
But  true  Englishmen  may  fill 
A  good  health  to  gencaral  Hill ; 
For  the  queen  now  enjoys  her  own  again. 


HORACE,  BOOK  I.  EP.  FIT, 

ADDBBSSBO  TO  THE  BABL  OP  OXPOID,    1713. 

Haklit,  the  natk)|i's  great  support, 
RetanuDg  home  one  day  from  court, 
(His  ijDVDd  with  public  cares  possessed. 
All  Europe's  business  in  his  breast) 


Oliserv'd  a pirson  near  Whitehall 
Cheapening  old  authors  on  a  stalK 
The  priest  was  pretty  well  in^case^ 
And  showM  some  humour  in  his  face ; 
Look*d  with  an  easy,  careless  mien, 
A  perfect  stranger  to  the  spleen ; 
Of  size  that  might  a  pulpit  fill. 
But  more  incUning  to  sit  stilL 
My  lord  (who,  if  a  man  may  say 't. 
Loves  mischief  better  than  his  meat) 
Was  now  disposed  to  crack  a  jest 
And  bid  friend  Lewis  >  go  in  quest, 
(This  Lewis  is  a  cunning  shaver. 
And  very  much  in  Harley's  favour) 
In  quest  who  might  this  parson  be. 
What  was  his  name,  of  what  degree ; 
If  possible,  to  learn  bis  story,    ^ 
And  whether  he  were  Whig  or  Tory. 
Lewis  his  patron's  humour  knows. 
Away  upon  his  errand  goes. 
And  quickly  did  the  matter  sift ; 
Fotmd  out  thkt  it  was  doctor  Swift, 
A  clergyman  of  special  note 
For  shunning  those  of  his  own  coat ; 
Which  made  his  brethren  of  the  gown 
Take  care  betimes  to  run  him  down : 
No  libectme,  nor  over  nice. 
Addicted  to  no  sort  of  vice. 
Went  where  he  pleas'd,  said  what  he  thought; 
Not  rich,  but  ow*d  no  man  a  groat : 
In  state  opinions  a  la  mode. 
He  bated  Wharton  like  a  toad. 
Had  given  the  faction  many  a  wound. 
And  liberd  all  thejun{o  round; 
Kept  company  with  men  of  wit. 
Who  often  father'd  what  he  writ : 
His  works  were  hawk*d  in  every  street. 
But  seldom  rose  above  a  sheet : 
Of  late  indeed  the  paper-stamp 
Did  very  much  his  genius  cramp : 
And  since  he  could  not  ajpesad.  his  fife 
He  now  intended  to  rethne. 

Said  Harley,  "  I  desire  to  know 
"  From  his  own  mouth  if  this  be  so. 
Step  to  the  doctor  straight,  and  say, 
I  M  have  him  dine  with  me  to-day." 
Swift  seem'd  to  wonder  what  he  meant. 
Nor  would  believe  my  lord  had  sent; 
So  never  pfier'd  once  to  stir ; 
But  coMly  said,  "  Your  servant,  shr  I" 
«'  Does  he  refuse  ine  ?"  Harley  cry'd; 
"  He  does,  with  insolence  and  pride.'* 

Some  few  days  after,  Harley  ^es 
The  doctor  fasteu'd  by  the  eyes 
At  Charing-cross  among  the  rout. 
Where  painted  monsters  are  hung  out : 
He  puird  the  string,  and  stopt  his  coach. 
Beckoning  the  doctor  to  approach. 

Swift,  who  could  neither  fly  nor  hide«. 
Came  sneaking  to  the  chariot  side. 
And  ofier'd  many  a  lame  excuse: 
He  never  meant  the  least  abuse— 
*'  My  lord— the  honour  you  design'd— 
Extremely  proud— but  I  had  din*d— 
I  'm  sure  I  never  sbouM  neglect- 
No  man  alive  has  nxne  respect—** 
"  Well,  Ishall  think  of  that  no  more. 
If  you  'H  be  sure  to  com6  at  fbur." 

i  Erasmus  Lewis,  esq.  the  treasurer^  lecrettry. 
Cc9^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


5S8 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


The  doctor  now  obeys  th«  smnmoM, 
Likes  both  hit  company  and  cominons  | 
Displays  hiK  talent,  sits  till  ten  $ 
Keict  day  inrited  comes  again; 
Soon  grows  domestic,  seldom  fails 
Either  at  morning  or  at  meals : 
Came  early,  and  departed  late;    . 
In  short,  the  gudgeon  took  the  bait 
My  lord  would  carry  on  the  jest, 
And  down  to  Windsor  takes  his  guest. 
Swift  much  admires  the  place  ani  air, 
And  longs  to  be  a  canon  there ; 
In  summer  round  the  park  to  ride  i 
In  winter,  never  to  reside. 
**  A  eanon  !  that 't  a  place  too  mean  j 
No  doctor,  you  shall  be  a  dtan  ; 
Two  dozen  canons  round  your  stall. 
And  you  the  tyrant  o*er  them  all : 
You  need  but  cross  the  Iriih  seas. 
To  live  in  plenty,  power,  and  ease.*' 
Poor  Swift  departs ;  and,  what  b  wone. 
With  borrow'd  money  iaiiis  purse. 
Travels  at  least  an  hundred  leagOet, 
And  suffers  numberless  ftttigues. 

Suppose  him  now  a  dean  otmplett. 
Demurely  lolling  in  his  seat ; 
The  silver  verge,  with  decent  prkle. 
Stuck  underneath  his  cushion-side : 
Suppose  him  gone  through  all  vexations, 
Patents,  instalments,  abjurations, 
First-fruits  and  tenths,  and  chapter-treats ; 
Dues,  payments,  fees,  dwnands,  and  cheats^ 
(The  wicked  laitjr's  contriving 
To  hinder  clergymen  ftnom  thriving). 
Nbw  all  the  doctor*s  money  *s  spent. 
His  tenants  wrong  him  in  his  rent ; 
Tlie  farmers,  spitefully  combined, 
Force  him  to  take  his  tithes  in  kind : 
And  Parvisol  *  discounts  arrears 
By  bills  for  taxes  and  repairs. 

Poor  Swift,  with  all  his  losses  vex*d. 
Not  knowing  where  to  turn  him  next. 
Above  a  thousand  pounds  in  debt. 
Takes  horse,  and  in  a  mighty  fret 
Rides  day  and  night  at  such  a  rate. 
He  soon  arrives  at  Harley*s  gate ; 
But  was  so  dirty,  pale,  and  thm, 
OJd  Read  3  wouM  hanby  let  him  in. 

Said  Harley,  *«  Welcome,  reverend  Oean ! 
"  What  makes  your  wonbip  look  so  lean? 
Why,  sure  you  won*t  appear  in  town 
In  that  old  wig  and  msty  gown  ? 
I  doubt  your  heart  is  set  on  pelf 
So  much,  that  you  neglect  yonrself. 
What  I  I  suppose,  now  stocks  are  high. 
You  've  some  good  purchase  hi  jrour  eye  ? 
Or  is  3rour money  out  at  use?'' — 

"  Truce,  good  my  lord,  I  b^  a  truce,»» 
(The  doctor  m  a  passion  cry*d) 
"  Your  raillery  is  Biisapply*d ; 
Experience  I  have  dearly  bought ; 
You  know  I  am  not  worth'a  groat; 
But  you  resolvM  to  have  your  josC; 
And  'twas  a  folly  to  contest ; 
Then,  since  you  have  now  done  your  worst* 
Pray  leave  me  where  3roQ  fbund  me  6r8t" 


*  The  Dean'j  agent,  a  FVenchman. 
'  The  lord  treasurer's  porter. 


9wtft> 


HORACE,  BOOK.  II  SAT.  VL 

I  'vs  often  wish*d  that  I  had  clear. 
For  life,  six  hundred  pounds  a-year, 
A  handsome  house  to  lodge  a  friend, 
A  river  at  my  garden's  end, 
A  terrace  walk,  and  half  a  rood 
Of  land  set  out  to  plant  a  wood. 

Well,  now  I  have  all  this  and  more, 
I  ask  not  to  increase  my  store  i 
'*  But  here  a  grievance  seems  to  lie, 
All  this  is  mine  but  till  I  die ; 
1  can't  but  think  'twould  sound  more  clever. 
To  me  and  to  my  heirs  for  ever. 

*'  If  I  ne'er  got  or  k>st  a  groat. 
By  any  trick,  or  any  fiiult ; 
And  if  I  pray  by  reason's  mlcs. 
And  not  like* forty  other  fools: 
As  thus,  *  Vouchsafe,  oh  gracious  Maker  * 
To  grant  me  this  and  t'other  acre ; 
Or,  If  it  be  thy  will  and  pleasure. 
Direct  my  plough  to  6nd  a  treasure  !> 
But  only  what  my  station  fits. 
And  to  be  kept  in  my  right  wits. 
Preserve,  Almighty  Providence ! 
Just  what  yon  gave  me,.oompetence : 
And  let  me  in  these  shades  compote 
Something  m  verse  as  true  as  prose ; 
Remov'd  from  all  th'  ambitions  scene. 
Nor  pnff'd  by  pride,  nor  sunk  by  spleen.** 

In  short,  I  'm  perfectly  oootoit. 
Let  me  but  live  an  this  side  Trent; 
Nor  cross  the  Channel  twice  a  year. 
To  spend  nx  months  with  statesmen  here. 

I  must  by  all  meam  come  to  town, 
*  Tis  fbr  the  service  of  the  otown. 
"  Lewis,  the  Dean  will  be  of  oat; 
Send  for  kim  op,  take  no  excoae." 
The  toil,  the  danger  of  the  seas. 
Great  muusters  ne'er  think  of  these ; 
Or  let  it  cost  five  hundred  pouiMl, 
No  matter  where  the  monay  's  found. 
It  is  bnt  so  much  more  in  debt, 
And  that  they  ne'er  oooMder'd  yet 

**  Qood  Mr.  Dean,  go  change  your  gewn. 
Let  my  lord  know  you  're  come  to  town." 
I  hurry  roe  haste  in  away* 
Not  thmking  it  is  levee-day  i 
And  find  his  honour  in  a  pound, 
Hemm'd  by  a  triple  circle  round, 
Chequer'd  with  ribbons  blue  and  green : 
How  shoukl  1  thrust  myself  between  ? 
Some  wag  observes  me  thus  perplex'd. 
And,  smilmg,  whispers  to  the  next, 
**  I  thought  the  Dean  had  been  too  proud* 
To  justle  here  among  the  croud !" 
Another,  in  a  surly  fit, 
Tells  me  I  have  more  zeal  than  wit 
"  So  eager  to  express  your  love. 
You  ne'er  consider  whom  you  shove. 
But  rudely  press  before  a  duke.*' 
1  own,  I  'm  pleas'd  with  this  rebuke* 
And  take  it  kindly  meant,  to  fehow 
What  I  desire  the  world  should  kpow, 

I  get  a  whiqier,  and  withdraw  ; 
When  twenty  fools  I  never  saw 
Gome  with  petitions  fiurlj  peiip'4* 
Desiring  I  wouH  s^and  tMr  frieid^^ 


Digitized  tiy  VjOOQ IC 


HORACE,  Book  II.  Sat.  VI. 


H9 


This  humbly  offers  oie  bis 
That  begs  my  faiterest  for  a  place-- 
A  hundred  other  men's  affiur^. 
Like  bees*  are  bamming  in  my  eafs. 
**  Tomorrow  my  appeal  comes  un; 
Without  your  help,  the  cause  is  goo©— " 
"  The  4nke  esqiects  my  lord  and  yon^ 
About  some  great  affiur,  at  two — " 
"  Pot  my  lord  Bobngbroke  in  mmd. 
To  gel  my  warrant  quickly  sign*d : 
Consider,  tis  my  first  request.'  — 
Be  satisfy'd,  Pil  da  my  best 
Then  presently  he  faHs  to  tease, 
"  You  may  for  certain,  if  yon  please | 
I  doubt  not,,  if  his  lofddnp  knew— 
And,  Mr.  Dean,  ane  woid  from  jrou— " 

Tts  (let  me  see)  thsea  yean  and  moie, 
(October  next  it  will  be  four) 
Since  Harlay  bid  Bie  firat  attend, 
And  chose  Bie  for  as  humble  friend; 
Would  take  me  in  his  coach  to  chat. 
And  question  me  of  this  and  that ; 
As,  ««  What  »8  o'clock  ?"  And,  "  How's  the  witod  ?" 
"  Whose  ehariot  's  tliat  we  left  behind  ?** 
Or  gravely  try  to  read  the  lines 
Writ  underneath  the  country  signs ; 
Or,  "  Have  you  nothhig  new  to-day 
From  Pope,  from  Pamell,  or  from  Gay  ?" 
Such  Uttle  often  entertains 
My  lord  and  me  as  fitr  as  Staines, 
As  once  a  wedc  we  traver  down 
To  Wbdsor,  and  again  to  town. 
Where  all  that  passes  nifer  not 
Might  be  proclaim'd  %t  Charing-cross. 

Yet  tome  I  know  with  envy  swell, 
Because  they  see  ma  ns'd  so  wall : 
'*  How  think  yon  of  our  friend  the  Dean } 
I  wonder  what  soow  people  mean  ? 
My  lord  and  he  are  grown  so  great, 
Alwa3rs  together,  teie  6  k'ie  ; 
What !  they  admive  htm  for  his  jokM  ?'*- 
See  but  the  ^rtune  of  some  MUn  I" 

There  ^ias  about  a  strange  report 
Of  some  express  arriv'd  at  amirt : 
I'm  stopp*d  by  all  the  fwh  I  meet. 
And  catecbis'd  in  every  street. 
**  You,  Mr.  Dean,  ftequent  the  great ; 
Inform  us,  will  the  emperor  treat? 
Or  do  the  prints  and  pqpers  lie  ?" 
faith  snr;  you  know  as  much  as  I, 
"  Ah,  doctor,  how  yon  love  to  j«t  I 
Tisnow  no  secret"-^"  I  pfotest 
Tis  one  to  me—"  Then  tell  us,  pray, 
When  an  tjkm  troops  to  have  their  pay  ?" 
And  though  I  mAmtif  declare 
I  know  no  more  than  my  lord  mayor. 
They  stand  a»ui*d,  and  think  »» grown 
The  closest  mortal  fverknowa 

Thus  m  a  sea  of  folly  toat, 
My  choicest  hours  of  lifo  aveloat ; 
Yet  always  wishing  to  ratraat,  - 
Oh,  could  1  see  my  coiratry  seatl 
There  leanmg  aeara  gentle  brook, 
9eep,  or  peruse  some  ancient  bocdc; 
And  there  in  sweet  oblivion  drown 
Those  cares  that  baunC  the  court,  and  towh  K 

'  f'StttBercgtoftMsitfire  among  PbiWrpoctna. 


THE  AUTHOR 

UPON  HIMSELF.    1713. 

lA  few  of  (he  fiTstlinet  mo  anaMfiiig.] 


By  an  old  • 


•  pursued 


A  crazy  prelate  ^ ,  and  a  royal  prude  9; 
By  dull  divines,  who  look  with  envious  eye$ 
On  every  genius  that  attempts  to  rise  j 
And,  pausing  o'er  a  pipe  with  doubtful  nod. 
Give  hints  that  poets  ne'er  believe  in  Ood : 
So  clowns  on  !x;holars  as  op  wisards  look. 
And  take  a  folio  for  a  conjuring  book. 

Swift  had  the  sin  of  wit,  no  venial  crime  | 
Nay,  'tis  afflrm'd,  he  sometimes  dealt  iu  rhyme : 
Hufl^oorand  mirth  had  place  iq  all  he  writ; 
He  recoocil'd  divinity  and  wit;  [grace : 

He  mov'd,  and  bow'd,  and  talk'd,  with  toa  mucft 
Nor  showed  the  j»arxon  in  his  gait  or  face  ; 
Despis'd  luxurious  wines  and  costly  meat. 
Yet  still  was  at  the  tablet  of  the  gr^t ; 
Frequented  lords,  saw  Mo«e  thai  taw  the  queen  ; 
At  Child's  or  Truby*s  ^  nevor  oooe  had  been ; 
Where  town  and  country  vicars  flock  in  tribes, 
Seemed  by  numbers  from  the  laymen's  gtt»e% 
And  deal  in  vices  of  the  graver  sort, 
Tobacco,  censure,  cofibe,  pride,  and  port. 

But,  after  sage  monitions  ftx>rn  his  firiends, 
His  talents  to  employ  for  nobler  ends; 
To  better  judgments  willing  to  submit, 
He  turns  to  politics  his  dmigerous  wit. 

And  now,  the  public  interest  to  support. 
By  Harley  Swift  invited  comes  to  court ; 
In  fiivour  grows  with  ministers  (Estate; 
Admitted  private,  when  superiors  wait : 
And  Harley,  not  asham'd  his  choice  to  own» 
Takes  him  to  Windsor  in  his  coach  alone. 
At  Windsor  Swift  no  sooner  can  appear. 
But  St  John  comes  and  whispers  in  his  ear ; 
Hie  waiters  stand  in  ranks;  the  yeomen  cry. 
Make  room,  as  if  a  duke  were  passing  by.    [certain 

Now  Finch 4  alarms  the  lords:    he  hears  fiir 
This  dangerous  priest  is  got  behind  the  curtain. 
Finch,  fom'd  for  tedious  elocutioo,  proves  * 
That  Swift  oils  many  a  spring  whicb  Harley  movet^ 
Walpole  and  Alslabie  ^  to  clear  the  doubt. 
Inform  the  commons,  that  the  secret 's  out : 
'*  A  certain  doctor  is  observed  of  late 
To  haunt  a  certain  minister  of  state ; 
From  whence  with  half  an  eye  we  may  diacov«r 
The  peace  is  made,  and  Peririn  must  oome  over." 

York  is  firom  Lambeth  sent  to  show  the  queen 
A  dangerous  treatise  ^  writ  against  the  q>leen  ; 
Which,  by  the  style,  the  matter,  and  the  drift, 
'Tis  thought  could  be  the  work  of  none  but  9miSL 
Poor  York !  the  harmlesstool  of  others*  bate. 
He  sues  for  pardon  *>,  and  repents  too  fate. 

I  Dr.  Sharp,  archbishop  of  York. 
*Q.  Anne. 

3  CoflRee-hoQses  much  frequented  by  the  clergy. 
<  Theearl  of  Nbttingfaam.    See  above,  p.  385. 
^Theyboth  qpote  against  him  in  the  Iioiih  of 
CDBnnous.  *  Tale  of  a  IVib^ 

''  He  sent  a  BMiagt  to  ask  Svift't  ||ti4biL 


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$90 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Now,  angry  Somerset  •  her  Tertgeance  vows 
Od  Swift*8  reproaches  for  her  ♦  *  *  ♦  ♦ 
Ffom  her  red  locks  her  mouth  with  Tenom  fills  j 
And  thtnce  into  the  royal  ear  instills. 
The  queen  incens'd,  bis  services  forsfot, 
Leaves  him  a  victifii  to  the  vengeful  Scot  *. 
Kow  through  the  realm  a  proclamation  spread, 
To  fix  a  pnce  on  his  devoted  head  ><>. 
While  innocent,  he  scorns  ignoble  flight ; 
His  watchful  friends  preserve  him  by  a  sleight 

By  Harley's  favour  once  again  he  shines  ; 
Is  now  caressed  by  candidate  divines, 
Who  change  opinions  with  the  changing  scene : 
Loid  !  how  were'they  mistaken  in  the  Oean ! 
Now  Delawarr  *»  agam  familiar  grows, 
Aod  in  Swift's  ear  thrusts  half  hi?  powder'd  dos^ 
The  Scottish  nation,  whom  he  durst  ofl<^d, 
Again  apply  that  Swift  would  be  their  friend  »*. 

By  faction  tir*d,  with  grief  he  waiu  awhile. 
His  great  contending  friends  to  reconcile, 
Performs  what  friendship,  justice,  truth,  require  ^ 
What  could  he  more,  but  decently  retire  ? 


THE  FAGGOT. 

urumm  when  the  mNisfar  wme  at  ?ABii^Kc<. 
1713. 

Observe  the  dying  fiither  speak : 

**  Try,  lads,  can  you  this  bundle  break  ?^ 

Then  bids  tl»e  youngest  of  the  six 

Take  up  a  well -bound  heap  of  sticks. 

They  thought  it  was  an  old  man's  maggot  j 

And  strove  by  turns  to  break  the  fiiggot : 

In  vain  j  the  complicated  wands 

Were  much  too  strong  for  all  their  hands. 

•«  See,"  said  the  sire,  "  how  soon  »tis  donej" 

Then  took  and  broke  them  one  by  one. 

•*  So  strong  you'll  be,  in  friendship  ty'd  ; 

So  quickly  broke,  if  you  divide. 

Keep  close  then,  boys,  and  never  quarrel :" 

Here  ends  the  fable  and  the  moral. 

This  talc  may  be  apply*d  in  few  words 
To  treasurers,  comptrollers,  stewards ; 
And -others  who  in  solemn  sort 
Appear  with  slender  wands  at  conrt ; 
Not  firmly  join'd  to  keep  their  ground,  ' 
But  lashing  one  another  round : 
WhUe  wise  men  think  they  ought  to  fight 
With  guarter-stafs,  instead  of  white ; 
Or  consUble  with  staff  of  peare 
Should  come  and  make  the  clattering  cease. 
Which  now  disturbs  the  queen  and  court, 
And  gives  the  Whigs  and  rabble  sport 

In  history  we  ne\-er  found 
The  consuls*  fascesjwere  unbound  : 
Those  Romans  were  too- wise  to  think  on  % 
£xcept  to  \rJ\  some  grand  delinquent 
How  would  they  blush  to  hear  it  said. 
The  praetor  broke  the  consul's  head , 

•  See  the  Windsor  prophecy,  p.  385. 
«The  duke  of  Argyll. 

10  For  writing  The  Public  Spirit  of  the  Whigs. 
>i  Thof)  tord  treasurer  o*"  the  household,  who 
cautiously  avoided  Swift  whilst  the  procUmation 
was  impeqdiiiig. 

13  Ht  was  visited  by  the  Scottish  lords  more  than 
tver. 


Or  consul,  in  bis  pmple  gown. 

Came  up,  and  knocked  the  prsrtor  down  f 

Come,  courtiers :  every  man  his  stack  I 
Lord  treasurer,  fiir  once  be  quick : 
And,  that  they  may  the  closer  cling. 
Take  your  Mae  ribbon  for  a  string. 
Ccxne,  trimming  Harcourt  ^ ,  bring  3roar  maoe  j 
And  squeeze  it  in,  or  quit  your  place : 
Dispatch,  or  else  that  rasod  Noirthey  * 
Will  undertake  to  do  it  for  thee : 
And,  be  assar'd,  the  court  will  find  him 
Prepared  to  leap  o^er  sticks,  or  bind  'em. 

To  oiake  the  bandfc  strong  and  sale. 
Great  Ormoivl,  lend  thy  general's  staff*: 
And,  if  the  crosier  could  becranMn'd  in, 
A  fig  for  Lechmere,  Knig,and  Uambden ! 
Vou  '11  then  defy  the  strongest  Whig 
With  both  his  hands  to  bend  a  twig ; 
Though  with  united  strength  tbey  ail  pull. 
From  Somen  down  to  Craggs  and  Waipoiau 


CATULLUS  DE  LESBJJ^ 

Lesbia  ibr  ever  on  me  rails. 
To  talk  of  me  she  never  fiiils. 
Now.  hang  me  but  for  all  her  ait, 
I  find,  that  I  have  gained  her  heaft 
My  proof  is  thus :  I  plainly  s^ 
The  case  b  just  the  same  with  me; 
I  curse  her  every  hour  sinoarely. 
Yet,  hang  me  but  I  love  her  dourly. 


EPIGRAM. 


FBOM  THE  FEBNCB  ' 


Who  can  believe  with  common  ^enaei^ 
A  hacon-sUce  gives  God  ofience  ; 
Or,  how  a  herring  hath  a  charm 
Almighty  vengeance  to  disarm  ? 
Wrapt  up  in  Majesty  divine. 
Does  he  regard  on  what  we  dine  } 


ON  A 

CURATE'S  Ce3fPLAINT 

OP  HARD  DUTT. 

I  march'd  three  miles  through  scorehbg  land. 

With  zeal  in  heait,  and  notes  in  band ; 

I  rode  four  nnore  to  Great  St  Mary, 

Using  four  legs,  when  two  were  wwury: 

To  three  feir  virgins  1  did  tie  men. 

In  the  close  hands  of  pleasing  Hymen : 

I  dipp'd  two  babes  in  holy  wi^ 

And  purify'd  their  mother  after 

Within  an  hour  and  eke  a  half, 

I  preach'd  three  congregations  deaf; 

^  Lord  chancellor. 

«  Sir  Edward  Northey,  attomey-geoetaL 

»  Written  extempofe  by  a  gentleman  who  wai 

reproved  by  some  of  his  companioDt  for  eatiog  e^p% 

and  bacon  on  a  fost-day. 


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INVENTORY  OF  GOODS. 


391 


Where  thundering  oat,  with  lang*  long-winded, 

I  chopped  80  fast,  that  few  there  minded. 

My  emblem,  the  laborious  Sun, 

Saw  all  these  mighty  labours  done 

Before  one  race  of  his  was  run* 

All  this  perfomrd  by  Robert  Hewit : 

What  mortal  else  coold  e'er  go  through  It ! 


A  TftUE  AND  FAITHFVl 

INFENTORY or  tbb  GOODS 

9BL0NCIMC  TO  DR.  tWIFT,  riCAR  OP  tARACOR  ; 

VPOM  LENDI!fG  HIS  HOUSB  TO  THE  BISHOP  OP  MBaTU, 

TILL  BIS  PALACB  WAS  RB-BUILT* 

Am  oaken,  broken  elbow-chair ; 

A  fawdle-cup,  without  an  ear ; 

A  batterM,  shattered  ash  bedstead  ; 

A  boK  of  d^l,  without  a  li<I ; 

A  pair  of  tongs,  but  out  of  joint ; 

A  back-sword  poker,  without  point ; 

A  pot  that  *s  cracked  across,  around 

*Wilb  an  okl  knotted  garter  bound ; 

An  iron  lock,  without  a  key ; 

A  wig,  wiUf  hanging  quite  grown  grey  ; 

A  curtam  won»  to  half  a  stripe ; 

A  pair  of  bellows,  without  pipe ; 

A  dish  which  might  good  meat  afibrd  once; 

An  Ovid,  and  an  old  Concordance  ; 

A  bottle-bottom,  wooden  platter. 

One  is  for  meal,  and  one  for  water  i 

There  likewise  is  a  co|^r  skillet. 

Which  runs  as  fast  oqt  as  you  fill  it ; 

Ji  candlestick,  snuff-dish,  and  save^all : 

And  thus  his  houshokl-goods  you  hare  all. 

These  to  your  lordship  as  a  friend, 

Till  you  have  built,  I  freely  lend : 

They  Ml  serve  ypur  lordship  for  a  shift; 

Why  not,  as  well  as  doctor  Swift  ? 


CADENUSaw  VANESSA^ 

WRITTBN  AT  WINDSOR,  1713. 

T^BE  shepherds  and  the  nymphs  were  seen 

Pleading  before  the  Cyprian  queen. 

The  counsel  for  the  fair  began. 

Accusing  the  fUae  creature  man. 

The  brief  with  weighty  crimes  was  charged. 

On  which  the  pleader  much  enlarged  ; 

That  Copid  now  has  lost  his  art. 

Or  blunts  the  point  of  every  dart  ;— 

His  ahar  now  no  longer  sinokes. 

His  mother's  aid  no  youth  invokes : 

This  tempts  freethipkers  to  refine. 

And  bring  in  doubt  their  powers  divine;  . 

Now  love  is  dwindled  to  intrigue. 

And  marriage  grown  a  money-league. 

1  Founded  on  an  ofier  of  marriage  made  by  Miss 
Vanbomrigh  to  Dr.  Swift,  who  wasoccasbnally  her 
|^iece|Hor,  The  lady's  unhappy  story  it  well  known. 


Which  crimes  afurcsaid  (unth  her  leave} 
Were    (as  he  humbly  did  conceive; 
Against  our  sovereign  >lady*8  peace, 
Against  the  statute  in  that  case. 
Against  her  dignity  and  crown : 
Then  pray'd  an  answer,  and  sat  down. 

The  nymphs  with  scorn  beheld  their  fbfesi 
When  the  defendant  *s  counsel  rose, 
And,  what  no  lawyer  ever  lack'd. 
With  impudence  own'd  all  the  fhct ; 
But,  what  the  gentlest  heart  would  vex, 
Laid  all  the  fault  on  t'other  sex. 
That  modem  love  is  no  such  thing 
As  what  those  ancient  poets  sing ; 
A  fire  celestial,  chaste,  refin'd, 
Conceiv'd  and  kindled  in  the  mind ; 
Which,  having  found  an  equal  flame. 
Unites,  and  both  become  the  same. 
In  different  breasts  together  bum. 
Together  both  to  ashes  turn. 
But  women  now  feel  no  such  fire. 
And  only  know  the  gross  desire. 
Their  passions  move  in  lower  spheres, 
Where'er  caprice  or  folly  steers, 
A  dog,  a  parrot,  or  an  ape. 
Or  some  worse  brate  in  human  shape. 
Ingress  the  fancies  of  the  fiur. 
The  few  soft  aKMnents  they  can  ^>are, 
From  visits  to  receive  and  pay ; 
From  scandal,  politics,  and  play ; 
From  fons,  and  flounces,  and  brocades. 
From  equipage  and  park-parades. 
From  all  <thb  thousand  female  toys. 
From  every  trifle  that  emplojrs 
The  out  or  inside  of  their  heads. 
Between  their  toileU  and  their  beds. 

In  a  dull  stream,  which  moving  slow. 
You  hardly  see  the  current  flow; 
If  a  small  breeze  obstruct  the  course. 
It  whirls  about,  for  want  of  force. 
And  in  its  luinrow  cirele  gathers 
Nothmg  but  chaff,  and  straws,  and  feathers. 
The  current  ef  a  female  mind 
Stops  thus,  and  turns  with  every  wind ; 
Thus  whirling  round  together  draws 
Fools,  fops,  and  rakes,  for  chaff  and  straws. 
Hence  we  conclude,  no  women's  hearts    • 
Are  won  by  virtue,  wit,  and  parts : 
Nor  are  the  men  of  sense  to  blame. 
For  breasts  incapable  of  flame ; 
The  feuh  must  on  the  nymphs  be  plac*(i^ 
Grown  so  cormpted  in  their  taste. 

The  pleader,  having  spoke  his  best. 
Had  witness  ready  to  attest. 
Who  feirly  coald  on  oath  despose. 
When  questions  on  the  feet  arose. 
That  every  article  was  true ; 
Not  further  these  deponents  knew  .•— 
Therefore  he  humbly  would  insist, 
The  biU  might  be  with  costs  dismbs'd. 
The  cause  appear'd  of  so  much  weight, 
That  Venus,  from  her  judgment-seat, 
Desir'd  them  not  to  talk  so  loud. 
Else  she  must  interpose  a  cloud : 
For,  if  the  heavenly  folk  should  know 
These  pleadings  m  the  courts  below. 
That  morals  here  disdain  to  love. 
She  ne'er  coold  show  her  fece  abov^^ 


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5dS 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


For  gods,  their  betters,  are  too  wise 
To  value  that  which  men  despise. 
*'  Aod  then,"  said  she,  ''my  son  aod4 
Must  stroll  in  air,^twixt  land  and  sky ; 
Or  else,  shut  out  from  heaven  and  earth, 
Fly  to  the  sea,  my  place  of  birth  ; 
There  live,  with  daggled  merrnaids  pent. 
And  keep  on  6«h  peqietual  Lenf 

But,  since  the  case  appearM  so  nice. 
She  thought  it  best  to  take  advice. 
The  Muses,  by  their  king*s  permission. 
Though  foes  to  love,  attend  the  session. 
And  on  the  right  hand  took  their  place* 
In  order;  on  t])e  kfi,  the  Graces: 
To  whom  she  might  her  doubts  propose 
On  all  emergencies  thai  rose. 
The  Muses  oft*  were  seen  to  frown  ; 
The  Graces  half-ashamM  look  down  i 
And  'twas  obseiv*<^  there  were  but  fieiir 
Of  either  sex  among  the  crew. 
Whom  she  or  her  assessors  knew. 
The  goddess  soon  began  to  see, 
Thihgs  were  not  ripe  for  a  decree ; 
And  said  she  must  consult  her  books. 
The  hcen?  Fletas,  Bractons,  Cokes. 
FirFi  to  a  dapper  clerk  she  beckc«*d. 
To  turn  to  Ovid,  book  the  second ; 
She  then  referred  than  to  a  phioe 
In  Virgil  ( mde  Didoes  ca^ :) 
As  for  Ttbullus's  reports. 
They  never  passed  for  law  in  oonrts : 
For  Cowley'r  briefii,  and  pleas  of  Waller, 
Still  their  authority  was  smaller. 

There  was  on  both  sides  much  to  say : 
She  'd  hear  the  cause  another  day. 
And  so  she  did ;  and  then  a  third 
She  heard  it — there,  she  kepi  her  word : 
But,  with  rejoinders  or  replies. 
Long  bills,  and  answers  stofTd  with  lies. 
Demur,  imparlance,  and  essoign, 
Tbe  parties  ne'er  could  issue  join : 
For  shcteen  years  the  cause  was  spun. 
And  then  stood  where  it  first  begun. 

Now,  gentle  Cli(v  t  ng  or  say. 
What  Venus  meant  by  this  delay. 
The  goddep,  much  perplexed  in  mind 
To  see  h^  empif«  thus  declin'd. 
When  fifst  this  grand  debate  aroae, 
Above  her  wisdom  to  compose. 
Conceived  a  project  in  her  head 
To  work  her  «o4s ;  which,  if  it  sped, 
Woald  show  the  merits  of  the  cause 
Far  better  than  coosultini;  lawa. 

In  a  glad  hour  Xucina's  aid 
Produced  on  Earth  a  wondrous  maid. 
On  whom  the  queep  of  1ot«  was  bent 
To  try  a  new  eiqieriment. 
She  threw  her  law-books  on  the  shelf. 
And  thus  debated  with  herself. 

**  Since  men  aUedge,  they  ne'er  can  ind 
Those  beauties  in  a  female  mind. 
Which  raise  a  fl^me  that  wiU  endura 
For  ever  uncorrupt  and  pure ; 
If  'tis  with  reason  they  complain. 
This  infant  shall  rostore  my  ceign. 
I  'il  search  where  ^ery  virtue  dwdiis^ 
From  courts  inclusive  down  to  eells : 
What  preachers  talk,  or  wtLg^  write  i 
These  I  will  gather  sind  unite, 


And  represent  them  to  mankhid 
Collected  m  that  inauit't  mmd." 

This  said,  she  pluckt^in  Heftvei^  high 
A  sprig  of  amarmntlune  Iki^efi, 
In  nectar  thrice  infiises  baya. 
Three  times  refin'd  in  Titaars  rays  ; 
Then  calls  the  Graces  to  her  aid. 
And  sprinkles  thrice  the  new-born  maid : 
From  whence  the  tender  skin  aynmf 
A  sweetness  above  all  perftunaa : 
From  whence  a  cleanliness  remakit 
Incapable  of  ootward  stains : 
From  whence  that  deceacy  of  mind. 
So  lovely  in  the  female  kind. 
Where  not  one  careless  tboqght  introdfli^ 
Less  modest  than  the  wp&sch  of  prudes  j 
Where  never  blush  was  caH'd  in  aid. 
That  spurio^  virtue  in  a  maid, 
A  virtue  but  at  second-hand ; 
They  bhish  because  they  understand. 

TYie^Sraces  next  would  act  thdr  part. 
And  show'd  but  little  of  their  art; 
Their  work  was  half  already  done. 
The  child  with  native  beauty  shone  ; 
Tbe  outward  form  no  help  reqoir'd : 
Each,  breathing  on  her  thrice,  inspii'd 
That  gentle,  soft,  engaging- aii^ 
Which  in  old  times  adoni'd  the  €ur : 
And  said,"  Vanessa  be  the  name 
By  wfafch  thon  shalt  he  known  to  ftme^ 
Vanessa,  by  the  gods  roroU'd : 
Her  name  on  Earth  shall  not  he  toM." 

But  still  the  work  was  not  caMpleU  ; 
When  Venua  thought  on  a  deceit. 
Drawn  tiy  her  dov«,  away  she  flics. 
And  finds  out  Pallas  in  the  skies. 
"  Dear  Pallas,  1  have  been  tfaii  mom 
To  see  a  lovely  hifant  bom  ; 
A  boy  in  yonder  iaie  below. 
So  like  my  own  without  his  bow. 
By  beauty  could  your  heart  l»e  won. 
You'd  swear  it  is  ApoUo's  son : 
But  it  shall  ne'er  be  said  a  child 
So  hopeful  has  by  me  been  spoil'd  ; 
I  have  enough  beades  to  spare. 
And  give  himVhony  to  your  care.** 

Wisdom  11  above  suspecting  wiles : 
The  queen  of  learning  gravely  smiles, 
Down  from  Olympns  comes  with  joy. 
Mistakes  Vaneasa  fiur  a  boy ; 
Then  sows  within  her  tender  siod 
Seeds  long  unknown  to  woman-kind  j 
Fbr  manly  bosoms  chiefly  fit. 
The  seeds  of  knowledge,  judgmaat,  m/L 
Her  soul  was  aoddaaly  endued 
With  justice,  troth,  and  lortitade  ; 
With  honour,  which  na  bicath  can 
Which  malice  must  attack  in  vain  ; 
With  open  heart  and  booatfons 
Bot  Palla»here  was  at  astaad; 
She  knew,  in  our  dqpsaerate  daya. 
Bare  virtue  could  not  live  oo  pfaisa  j 
That  meat  must  be  with  awDay  hoagh*  % 
She  therefore,  upaa  second  thougiht, 
Infus'd,  yet  as  it  were  by  stealth. 
Same  snudl  legaid  for  flats 


Of  which,  as  she  grow  ap,  thas 
A  tiactoie  ia  the  pradoit  said 


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CADENU9  ANP  VANESSA. 


49» 


8be  managed  her  estate  vitb  care. 
Yet  Uk'd  three  fbotneo  to  her  cbair. 
But,  lest  be  shoald  ueglect  hit  stadiet 
Like  a  young  heir,  the  thnfty  goddess 
(For  fear  yoaag  master  should  be  spoii'd) 
Woald  use  him  Kke  a  youoger  child  -, 
And,  after  long  computing,  found 
Tvould  come  to  just  five  thousand  pound. 

The  queen  of  love  vas  pleased,  and  proud. 
To  aee  Vanessa  thus  endow'd  : 
She  doubted  not  but  such  a  dame 
Through  every  breast  would  dart  a  flame ; 
That  every  rich  and  lofdly  swain 
With  pride  would,  drag  about  her  chain } 
That  scholars  would  forsake  their  books. 
To  study  bright  Vanessa's  looks ; 
As  she  sIdvancM,  that  woman-kind 
Would  by  her  model  form  their  mind. 
And  all  then-  condoct  would  be  try*d 
By  her,  as  an  unerrhig  guide ; 
Offending  daughters  oft*  would  hear 
Vanessa's  praise  rung  in  their  eart 
Miss  Betty,  when  she  does  a  fisult. 
Lets  fall  her  knife,  or  spills  the  salt. 
Will  thus  be  by  her  mother  chad, 
*  *  Tis  what  Vanessa  never  did !  '* 
'^  Thus  by  the  nymphs  and  swami  ador'^ 
My  power  shall  be  again  resior'd, 
Aod  happy  lovers  bless  my  reign— '^ 
So  Venus  bop'd,  but  hop'd  in  vain. 

For  when  in  time  the  martial  maid 
Found  out  the  trick  that  Venus  play*d, 
She  shakes  her  helm,  she  knits  her  brow^ 
Andy  fir  d  with  iadignatioo,  vows. 
Tomorrow,  ere  the  setting  son. 
She'd  all  undo  that  she  had  dooew 

But  m  the  poels  we  may  find 
A  wholesome  law,  time  out  of  mind* 
Had  been  confirgi'd  by  fete's  deci«i. 
That  gods,  of  whatsoe'er  degree. 
Resume  not  what  themselves  have  givs% 
Or  any  broth«r.god  hi  Heaven; 
Wluch  keeps  the  peace  among  the  godi^ 
Or  they  must  always  be  at  odds : 
And  Palks,  if  she  broke  the  laws. 
Must  yield  her  fee  the  stronger  canae  ; 
A  shame  to  one  so  minch  ador*d 
For  wisdom  at  Jove's  cottocil4x)anL 
Besides,  she  fear*d  the  queen  of  love 
Would  meet  with  better  friends  above. 
And  though  she  must  wHh  grief  redee^ 
To  see  a  mortal  virgin  deck'd 
With  graces  hitherto  unknown 
To  female  breads,  esccept  her  own ; 
Yet  she  wouM  act  as  best  became 
A  godden  of  unspotted  feme. 
She  knew,  by  augury  diving, 
Venus  wooki  fell  in  her  des%n: 
She  stady'd  well  the  pcMBt,  and  feund 
Her  foe's  conclusions  were  not  soond, 
From  premises  enoneoos  brought; 
And  therefore  the  dedactioii  'a  noag^ 
And  must  have  eentrary  eieds 
To  what  her  treacheveus  foe  e«)iecta> 

Id  proper  season  Pallas  aMets 
The  queen  of  k)ve,  whom  thus  ^he  gRiti 
(For  gods,  we  are  by  HooMr  told, 
Can  m  celestial  language  soold) : 
"  Perfidious  godden  1  but  hi  vain 
Y<m  fenB*d  this  pi<Qcet  in  yenr  bmi»; 


A  project  for  thy  talents  fit. 

With  much  deceit  and  little  wit 

Thou  hast,  as  thou  shalt  quickly  ita, 

Deceiv'd  thyself,  instead  of  me  : 

For  how  can  heavenly  wisdom  pwe 

An  instrument  to  earthly  kne  } 

Know'st  thou  not  yet,  that  men  oommente 

Thy  votaries,  for  want  of  sense  ? 

Nor  shall  Vanessa  be  the  theme 

To  manage  thy  abortive  scheme « 

Sheil  prove  the  greatest  of  thy  fees; 

And  yet  I  toook  te  interpose. 

But,  using  neither  skill  nor  foree> 

Leave  all  things  to  their  natural  coorK,** 

The  goddess  thuf  prononnc'd  her  doom  t 
When  lo !  Vanessa  in  her  bloooi 
Advanc'd,  like  Atalanta'ci  star. 
But  rarely  seen,  aod  seen  from  fev: 
In  a  new  world  with  eaulua  stept, 
Watoh'd  all  the  compaay  she  kept. 
Well  knowmg,  from  the  books  she  read,    ' 
What  dangerous  paths  young  virgins  tvsad  : 
Would  seklom  at  the  park  appear. 
Nor  saw  the  play-house  twice  a  3Fear; 
Yet,  not  inpurious,  was  inelin'd 
To  knew  the  converse  of  mankind. 

First  issued  from  perfumer's  sbops^ 
A  crowd  of  feshkmable  fops : 
They  ask'd  her,  how  she  lik'd  tl^play  ; 
Then  told  the  tattle  of  the  day  ; 
A  duel  fought  last  night  at  two. 
About  a  lady — ^you  Imow  who ; 
Mention'd  a  new  Italian  oome 
Either  firom  Mqscovy  or  Mease ; 
Gave  hints  of  who  and  who's  togeUier  ; 
Then  fell  a  talking  of  the  weather; 
Last  night  was  so  Laliimely  flqe^ 
The  ladies  walk'dtUl  alter  nhn; 
Then,  in  soft  voice  and  speech  ahswd* 
With  nonsense  every  second  wor4 
With  fuiftian  from  exploded  plays. 
They  celebrate  her  beauty's  pts^  | 
Run  o'er  their  oam  of  stufid  lies. 
And  tell  the  murders  of  her  eym» 

With  sileat  soons  YmicsM  sat. 
Scarce  listening  to  their  idle  chat ; 
Further  than  sometiioes  by  a  firowa. 
When  they  gfew  pept,  te  puH  thea 
At  last  she  spitefully  was  bent 
To  try  their  wisdom**  feN  extent ; 
And  said  she  valued  nathfaag  less 
Than  titles,  figure,  shape  and  dresa; 
That  merii  should  be  ehaeiy  plao'd 
In  judgment,  knowMge,  wit,  aadtasle; 
And  theK,  she  ofier'd  to  dispute, 
Alone  distinguish^!  man  horn  brute: 
That  present  liace  have  no  pretmee 
To  viriue,  m  the  noble  sense 
By  Greeks  and  Romans  understood. 
To  perish  for  our  country'e  good. 
Shenam'd  the  andent  heroes  rouadi^ 
ficplain'd  for  what  they  were  renown'd; 
Then  spoke  with  t'ensuici  or  applause 
Of  foreign  customs,  ritesk  and  lawe; 
Hiraugh  nature  and  through  art  she  mag^ 
And  ^praceAilly  her  sutgect  chang'd; 
In  vain !  her  hearers  had  no  share 
In  all  she  spoke,  oMept  to  stare. 
Their  judgment  was,  upon  the  wfaelt, 
—*<  That  lady  is  the  dttHctI  teal !—'» 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


S9* 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Then  tipt  their  forehead  in  a  jeer,      ^ 
As  who  shoold  say-r"  She  wants  it  here ! 
^e  may  be  hawbome,  youofc,  and  rich, 
But  none  will  bum  her  for  a  witch !" 

A  party  next  of  glittering  dames. 
From  round  the  purlieus  of  St  James, 
Came  early,  out  of  pure  good-will, 
To  see  the  girl  in  dishabille. 
Their  clamour,  'lighting  from  their  chairs. 
Grew  louder  all  the  way  up  stairs ; 
At  entrance  loudest,  where  they  found 
The  room  with  volumes  littered  round. 
Vanessa  held  Montaigne,  and  read, 
Whilst  Mrs.  Susan  oomb'd  her  head. 
They  called  for  tea  and  chocolate. 
And  fell  into  their  usual  chat. 
Discoursing,  with  important  &ce. 
On  ribbons,  fons,  and  gloves,  and  lace ; 
Show*d  patterns  just  firom  India  brought. 
And  gravely  a.<<k*d  her  what  she  thought,' 
Whether  the  red  or  green  were  best. 
And  what  they  cost }  Vanessa  guess'd. 
As  came  into  her  foncy  first ; 
Kam  d  half  the  rates,  and  lik*d  the  worst. 
To  scandal  next— <*  What  awkward  thing 
Was  that  last  Sunday  in  the  ring  ? 
Fm  sorry  Mopsa  brraks  so  fast; 
I  said,  her  lace  would  never  last 
Corinna,  with  that  yonthfol  air, 
Is  thirty,  and  a  bit  to  spare : 
Her  fondness  for  a  certain  eail 
Began  when  1  was  but  a  girl ! 
Phillis,  who  but  a  month  ago 
Was  marry*d  to  the  Tunbridge-beau, 
I  saw  coquetting  t'other  night 
In  public  with  ^t  odious  knight  !*' 

They  rally'd  next  Vanessa's  dress : 
*'  That  gown  was  made  for  old  queen  Bess.. 
Dear  madam,  let  me  see  your  bead : 
Dont  you  intend  to  put  on  red? 
A  petticoat  without  a  hoop  I 
Sure,  you  are  not  asham'd  to  stoop ! 
With  handsome  garters  at  your  knees. 
No  matter  what  a  fellow  sees."- 

Fiird  with  disdain,  with  rage  inflam'd. 
Both  of  herKlf  and  sex  asham'd. 
The  nymph  stood  silent  out  of  spite. 
Nor  would  vouchsafe  to  set  them  rig^t 
Away  the  foir  detractors  went. 
And  gave  by  turns  their  censures  vent 
She 's  not  so  handsome  in  my  eyea ; 
For  wii,  I  wonder  where  it  lies  ! 
^  She  's  feir  and  clean,  and  that 's  the  most : 
But  why  proclaim  her  for  a  toast  ? 
A  baby  fece ;  no  life,  no  airs. 
But  what  she  leam'd  at  couaitry-fiurs ; 
Scarce  knows  what  difference  is  between 
Rich  Flanders  lace  and  colberteen. 
I'll  undertake,  my  little  Nancy 
In  flounces  hath  a  better  fancy ! 
With  aU  her  wit,  1  would  not  ask 
Her  judgment,  how  to  buy  a  mask. 
We  begg'd  her  but  to  patch  her  fooe, 
^  never  hit  one  proper  place  ; 
Which  every  girl  at  five  yean  old    - 
Can  do  as  soon  as  she  is  toki 
I  own,  that  outK>f-feshion  stuff 
Becomes  the  creature  well  enough. 
The  girl  might  pass,  if  we  could  get  ber 
To  koow  the  wQrid  a  littk  better." 


(To  know  the  world  f  a  modem  phraaa 
For  visits,  ombre,  balls,  and  plays.) 

Thus,  to  the  world's  peip^ual  shame. 
The  queen  of  beauty  lost  her  aim  ; 
Too  late  with  grief  she  understood, 
Palhis  had  done  more  harm  than  good  i 
For  great  examples  are  but  vain, 
Where  ignorance  begets  disdain. 
Both  sexes  arm'd  with  guik  and  q»ite. 
Against  Vanessa's  power  unite  :  ' 

To  copy  her,  few  n3rmphi  aspired  ; 
Her  virtues  fewer  swains  admir'd. 
So  stars  beyond  a  certain  height 
Give  mortals  neither  heat  nor  light 

Yet  some  of  eitlier  sex,  endow 'd 
With  gifts  superior  to  the  crowd. 
With  virtue,  knowledge,  taste,  sind  wit, 
Sh^  condescended  to  admit : 
With  pleasing  arts  she  could  reduce 
Men's  talents  to  their  proper  use  ; 
And  with  address  each  genius  held 
To  that  wherein  it  most  esGcell^d ; 
Thus,  making  others'  wisdom  known. 
Could  please  them,  and  improve  ber  own. 
A  modest  youth  sajd  somettiing  new  ; 
She  plac'd  it  in  the  strongest  view. 
All  humble  worth  Ae  strove  to  raise; 
Would  not  be  prais'd,  yet  lov'd  to  praisOi 
The  learned  tiket  with  free  approach. 
Although  they  came  not  in  a  coa^ : 
Some  dergy  too  she  would  allow, 
Nor  quarrel'd  at  their  awkward  bow ; 
But  this  was  for  Cadenus*  sake, 
A  gownman  of  a  different  make ; 
Whom  Pallas,  once  Vanessa^  tutor. 
Had  fix'd  on  for  her  coadjutM^ 

But  Cupid,  full  of  mischief,  longs 
To  vindicate  his  mother's  wrongs. 
On  Pallas  all  attempts  are  vam: 
One  way  he  knows  to  give  her  pain  ; 
Vows  on  Vanena's  heart  to  take 
Due  vengeance,  for  her  patron's  sake. 
Those  early  seeds  by  Venus  sown. 
In  spite  of  Pallas,  now  were  nnwn ; 
And  Cupid  hop'd  they  would  m|vove 
By  time,  and  ripen  into  love. 
The  boy  made  use  of  atl  his  craft. 
In  vam  discharging  maiky  a  shaft. 
Pointed  at  cdgoels,  lords,  and  beaux : 
Cadenus  warded  off  the  blows ; 
For,  placing  still  some  book  betwixt. 
The  darts  wer^  in  the  cover  fix'd. 
Or,  often  blunted  and  reooil'd. 
On  Plutarch's  Morab  strack,  were  spoiTd, 

The  queen  of  wisdom  could  foresee, 
But  not  prevent  the  Fates'  decree : 
And  human  caution  tries  in  vain 
To  break  that  adamantine  chain. 
Vanessa,  though  by  Pallas  taught, 
By  Love  invulnerable  thought. 
Searching  in  books  for  wisdom's  aid. 
Was,  in  the  very  search,  betray'd. 

Cupid,  though  all  his  darts  were  lost. 
Yet  still  resolv'd  to  qpare  no  cost  .* 
He  could  not  answer  to  his  feme 
The  triumphs  of  that  stubborn  dame, 
A  nymph  so  hard  to  be  subdued. 
Who  neither  was  coquette  nor  prude. 
**  I  find,"  said  he,  **  she  wants  a  dosilo^ 
Both  to  adore  ber,  an4  instruct  \^ : 


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CADENUS  AND  VANESSA. 


39* 


IMl  give  her  vliaiahe  most  admires^ 

Amanfi:  those  venerable  sires, 

Cadenas  is  a  sul^cct  fit. 

Grown  old  in  politics  and  wit, 

CaressM  by  ministers  of  state. 

Of  half  onankind  the  dread  and  hatew 

Whatever  vexations  love  attend. 

She  need  no  rivals  apprehend. 

Her  sex,  with  universal  voice. 

Must  laugh  at  her  capricious  choice.'* 

Cadenus  many  things  had  writ : 
Vanessa  much  esteem'd  his  wit. 
And  calPd  for  his  poetic  works  : 
Mean  time  the  buy  in  secret  lurks ; 
And,  while  the  book  was  in  her  hand, 
llie  nrchin  from  his  private  stand 
Took  aim,  and  shot  with  all  his  strength 
A  dart  of  such  prodigious  length. 
It  pierc'd  the  feeble  volume  through. 
And  deep  transfixed  her  bosom  too. 
Some  lines,  more  moving  than  the  rest. 
Stuck  to  t^e  point  that  pierc'd  her  breast. 
And,  borne  directly  to  the  heart. 
With  pains  unknown,  increased  her  smart. 

Vanessa,  not  in  yean  a  score, 
Dreams  of  a  gown  of  forty-four  ; 
Imaginary  charms  can  find 
In  eyes  with  reading  almost  blind : 
Cadenus  now  no  more  appears 
Declined  in  health,  advanced  in  years, 
^e  fisncies  music  in  hb  tongue ; 
No  fisrther  looks,  but  thinks  him  young. 
What  mariner  is  not  afraid 
To  venture  in  a  ship  decayM  ? 
What  planter  will  attempt  to  yoke 
A  laphng  with  a  felling  oak  ? 
As  yean  increase,  she  brighter  shines : 
Cadenas  with  each  day  declines  : 
And  he  must  fell  a  prey  to  time. 
While  she  contmues  in  her  prime. 

Cadenus,  common  forms  apart. 
In  every  scene  had  kept  his  heart ; 
Had  tigh'd  and  languished,  vow'd  and  writ. 
For  pastime,  or  to  show  his  wit 
But  books,  and  time,  and  state  atffiurs. 
Had  spoiled  his  feshionable  airs : 
He' now  could  praise,  esteem,  approve. 
But  understood  not  what  was  love. 
Hb  conduct  might  have  made  him  stylM 
A  fether,  and  the  nymph  his  child. 
That  innocent  delist  he  tdbk 
T6  see  the  virgin  mind  her  book, 
Was  but  the  master^s  secret  joy 
In  school  to  hear  the  finest  boy. 
Her  knowledge  with  her  fency  grew; 
She  hourly  pressed  for  something  newj 
Ideas  came  into  her  mind 
So  fest,  his  lessons  lagged  behind ; 
She  reasoned,  without  plodding  long,  . 
Kor  ever  gave  her  judgment  wrong. 
But  now  a  sudden  change  was  wrought : 
She  minds  no  longer  what  he  taught. 
Cadenus  was  amaz'd  to  find 
Soch  marks  of  a  distracted  mind : 
For,  though  she  seem'd  to  listen  more 
To  all  he  spoke,  than  e'er  before. 
He  found  her  thoughts  would  absent  range. 
Yet  guessed  not  whence  could  spring  the  chai^ 
And  first  he  mq^estlvconjectures 
|Iis  pupil  might  be  tird  with  lectores ; 


Which  help'd  to  mortify  his  pride. 

Yet  gave  him  not  the  heart  to  chide : 

But,  in  a  mild  dejected  strain. 

At  last  he  ventured  to  complain ; 

Said,  she  should  be  no  longer  teased. 

Might  have  her  freedom  when  she  pleas'd; 

Was  now  convinced  he  acted  wrong. 

To  hide  her  from  the  world  so  long. 

And  in  dull  studies  to  engage 

One  of  her  tender  sex  and  age ; 

That  every  nymph  with  envy  own*d. 

How  she  might  shine  in  the  grand  monde; 

And  every  shepherd  was  undone 

To  see  her  cloistered  like  a  nun. 

This  was  a  visionary  scheme : 

He  wak*d,  and  found  it  but  a  dream  ; 

A  project  &r  above  his  skill ; 

For  nature  must  be  nature  still. 

If  lie  were  bolder  than  became 

A  scholar  to  a  courtly  dame. 

She  might  excuse  a  man  of  letters ; 

Thus  tutors  often  treat  their  betters : 

And,  since  his  talk  offemive  grew. 

He  came  to  take  his  last  adieu. 

Vanessa,  fill'd  with  just  disdain. 
Would  still  her  dignity  maintain. 
Instructed  from  her  early  years 
To  scorn  the  art  of  female  tears. 

Had  he  employ*d  his  time  so  long 
To  teach  her  what  was  right  and  wrong; 
Yet  could  such  notions  entertain 
That  all  his  lectures  were  in  vain  ? 
She  own*d  the  wandering  of  her  thoughts  | 
But  he  must  answer  for  her  faults. 
She  well  remembered,  to  her  cost^ 
That  all  hi^  lessons  w^re  not  lost 
Two  maxims  she  could  still  produce. 
And  sad  experience  taught  their  use ; 
That  virtue,  pleas'd  by  being  shown. 
Knows  nothing  which  it  dares  not  owq  ; 
Can  make  us  without  fear  disclose 
Our  inmost  secrets  to  our  foes : 
That  common  forms  were  not  designed 
Directors  to  a  noble  mind. 
"  Now,''  said  the  nymph,  '*  to  let  you  see 
My  actions  with  your  rules  agree ; 
That  1  can  vulgar  forms  despise. 
And  have  no  secrets  to  disguise : 
I  knew,  by  what  you  said  and  writ. 
How  dangerous  things  were  men  of  wit ; 
You  caution'd  me  against  their  charms, 
Bnt  never  gave  me  equal  arms; 
Your  lessons  found  the  weakest  part, 
Aim'd  at  the  head,  but  reach'd  the  heart ** 

Cadenus  felt  within  him  rise 
Shame,  disappointment,  guilt,  surprise. 
He  knew  not  hpw^to  reconcile 
Such  language  with  her  usual  style  : 
And  yet  her  words  were  so  expressed. 
He  could  not  hope  she  spoke  in  jest. 
His  thoughts  had  wholly  been  cont'd 
To  form  and  cultivate  her  mind. 
He  hardly  knew,  till  he  was  told. 
Whether  the  njrmph  were  ypung  or  old  j 
Had  met  her  in  a  public  place, 
Without  distinguishing  her  fecc^ : 
Much  less  could  his  dec  lining  age 
Vanessa's  earliest  thoughts  engage  ; 
And,  if  her  3routh  indifforence  met. 
His  person  must  contempt,  beget : 


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SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Or,  grant  her  pamkm  he  sincere. 
Bow  shall  his  mnocenoe  be  clear  i 
Appearances  were  all  so  strong. 
The  world  must  think  him  m  Uie  wrong  ; 
Would  say,  he  made  a  treacherous  use 
Of  wit,  to  flatter  and  seduce : 
The  town  would  swear,  he  had  betray'd 
By  magic  spells  the  harmless  maid : 
And  every  beau  would  have  bis  jokes. 
That  scholars^  were  like  other  folks  ; 
And,  when  Platonic  flights  were  over. 
The  tutor  turned  a  mortal  lover ! 
So  tender  of  the  young  and  ftiir ! 
It  s|iow*d  a  true  pateiiDal  care — 
Five  thousand  guineas  in  her  purse ! 
The  doctor  might  have  &ncy*d  worse.— 

Hardly  at  length  he  silence  broke. 
And  foulteHd  every  word  be  spoke  | 
Interpreting  her  complaisance, 
Just  as  a  man  tans  amtequeuce. 
She  rallied  well,  he  alwa3r8  knew : 
Her  manner  now  was  something  new ; 
And  what  she  spoke  was  hi  an  an: 
As  serious  as  a  tragic  p^yer. 
But  those  who  aim  at  ridicule 
Should  fix  upon  some  certain  rule. 
Which  foirly  hints  they  are  in  jest, 
Else  he  must  enter  his  protest : 
For,  let  a  man  be  ne^er  so  wise. 
He  may  be  caught  with  sober  lies ; 
A  science  which  he  never  taught. 
And,  to  be  free,  was  dearly  bought ; 
For,  take  it  in  its  proper  light, 
Tis  just  i^iat  coxcombs  call  a  biie. 

But,  not  to  dwell  on  things  minute, 
Vanessa  finished  the  dSspuie, 
Brought  weighty  argmaeots  to  prove 
That  reason  was  her  guide  in  love. 
She  thought  he  had  hnmelf  described. 
Bis  doctrines  when  she  first  imbib'd : 
What  be  had  planted  now  was  grown ; 
His  virtues  she  might  call  her  own ; 
As  he  approves,  as  he  dislikes. 
Love  or  contempt  h^r  fancy  strikes. 
Self-love,  in  nature  rooted  fast, 
Attends  us  first,  and  leaves  us  last : 
Why  she  hkes  him,  admire  not  at  her ; 
She  loves  herself,  and  that 's  the  matter. 
How  was  her  tutor  wont  to  praise 
The  geniuses  of  ancient  days ! 
(Those  authors  he  so  oft  had  nsraM, 
For  leanung,  wit,  and  wisdom,  fiim*d) 
Was  struck  with  Ibve,  esteem,  and  awe. 
For  persons  whom  he  never  saw. 
Suppose  Cadenus  flourished  then. 
He  must  adore  snch  godlike  men. 
If  one  short  volume  oonld  comprise 
All  that  was  witty,  leam'd,  and  wise, 
H<yw  would  it  be  esteemM  and  read. 
Although  Uie  writer  long  were  dead  t 
If  snch  an  author  wero  alive. 
How  all  would  for  his  friendship  strive. 
And  come  in  crowds  to  see  his  mce  f 
And  this  she  takes  to  be  her  case. 
Cadenus  answers  every  end. 
The  hook,  the  author,  and  the  friend  ; 
The  utmost  her  desires  will  reach. 
Is  Imt  to  learn  what  he  can  teach  t 
His  convene  is  a  system  fit 
AkM  to  fill  up  all  her  wit ; 


While  every  passion  of  her  mind 
In  him  is  centered  and  confin'd. 

Love  can  with  speech  inspire  a  mada. 
And  uugfat  Vanessa  to  dispute. 
This  tof^  never  toocfa'd  before, 
Displayed  her  eloquence  the  more : 
Her  knowledge,  with  snch  pains  acquir^d^ 
By  this  new  passion  grew  mspir'd  ; 
Through  this  she  made  all  ot^ects  pass. 
Which  gave  a  tincture  o'er  the  mass ; 
As  rivers,  though  they  bend  and  twine» 
Still  to  the  sea  their  course  mcline ; 
Or,  as  philosophers,  v^  find 
Some  fovourite  system  to  their  mind. 
In  every  point  to  make  it  fit. 
Will  force  alt  nature  to  submit 

Cadenus,  who  could  ne'er  snspeot 
His  lessons  would  liave  snch  effect. 
Or  be  so  artfully  apply^d. 
Insensibly  came  on  her  side. 
It  was  an  unforeseen  event ; 
Things  took  a  turn  be  never  meant. 
Whoe'er  excels  in  what  we  prize, 
Appears  a  hero  m  our  eyes : 
Each  giri,  when  pleased  with  what  is  tsonglk^ 
Will  luive  the  teacher  in  her  thought 
When  Miss  delights  in  her  spinnet, 
4  fiddler  may  a  fortune  ^; 
A  blockhead,  with  melodious  voice. 
In  boarding-schools  may  have  bis  choice  ; 
And  oil'  the  dancing-roaster's  art 
Climbs  from  the  toe  to  touch  the  hetat 
In  learning  let  a  nymph  delight. 
The  pedant  gets  a  mistress  try  t. 
Cadenus,  to  his  grief  and  shame, 
Could  scarce  oppose  Vanessa^  flame ; 
And,  though  her  arguments  were  strong; 
At  least  could  hardly  wish  them  wrong. 
Howe*er  it  came,  he  could  not  tell. 
But  sure  she  never  talk'd  so  welt 
His  pride  bmn  to  interpose; 
Preforr'd  heroie  a  crowd  of  beaux ! 
So  bright  a  nymph  to  come  unsought  f 
Such  wonder  by  his  merit  wrought ! 
'Tis  merit  nnist  with  her  prevail ! 
He  never  knew  her  judgment  fkil ! 
She  noted  all  she  ever  read  I 
And  had  a  most  dtsceming  head ! 

'TIS  an  old  maxim  in  the  schools. 
That  flattery  *s  the  food  of  fbols. 
Yet  now  and  then  your  men  of  wit 
Will  condescend  to  take  a  bit 

So,  when  Cadenus  could  not  hkle. 
Me  chose  to  justify,  his  prides  ; 
Construing  the  passien  she  had  shown. 
Much  to  her  praise,  more  to.  his  own. 
Nature  in  him  had  merit  placed. 
In  her  a  most  judicious  taste. 
Love,  hitherto  a  transient  guest. 
Ne'er  held  posKSsion  of  his  breast; 
So  long  attending  at  the  gate, 
Disdain'd  to  enter  hi  so  late. 
Lote  whj  do  we  one.  passion  call. 
When  tis  a  compound  of  them  all  ? 
Where  hot  and  cold,  where  sharp  and  sweet. 
In  all  their  equipages  meet ;  i 

Where  pleasures  mix^d  with  nains  appeas^ 
Sorrow  with  joy,  and  hope  with  fear  i 
Wherein  his  dignity  and.afB  / 
Forbid  Cadenos  to  engage. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CADENUS  AND  VANESSA. 


99r 


But  friendship,  in  ito  greatest  heifbt, 
A  ooortant,  ratknal  delight. 
On  Tictue*s  bosii  fix*(l  to  last. 
When  love  allarementa  long  are  past. 
Which  gently  warms,  hut  cannot  barn, 
He  gladly  offers  in  retnm ; 
Hit  want  of  pasuon  will  redeem 
With  gratitude,  respect,  esteem  ; 
With  that  devotion  we  bestow, 
When  goddesses  appear  below. 

While  thus  Cadenus  entertains 
Vanessa  in  exalted  strains, 
The  nymph  in  sober  words  entreats 
A  truce  with  all  sublime  conceits : 
For  why  such  raptures,  flights,  and  fiuicies. 
To  her  who  durst  not  r^  romances  ? 
(n  lofty  style  to  make  replies, 
VHiich  he  had  taught  her  to  despise  ? 
Bot  when  her  tutor  will  afiect 
Devotion,  duty,  and  respect. 
He  Curly  abdicates  the  throne ; 
The  government  is  now  her  own  ; 
He  baa  a  forfeiture  incurred ; 
She  vows  to  take  him  at  his  word. 
And  hopes  he  will  not  think  it  strange, 
If  both  should  now  their  stations  chimge. 
The  nymph  will  have  her  turn  to  he 
The  tutor  ;  ioid  tbe  papH,  he  : 
Though  she  already  can  discern 
Her  scholar  is  not  ap|  to  learn  ; 
Or  waats  capacity  to  reach 
The  science  she  designs  to  toaoh  x 
Wherem  his  genius  was  below 
The  skill  of  every  common  heaM, 
Who,  though  he  cannot  ipeH,  it  wisa 
Enough  to  read  a  lady^  eyes. 
And  will  each  accidental  glance 
Interpret  for  a  kind  advance. 

But  what  success  Vanessa  met, 
b  to  the  world  a  secret  yet. 
Whether  the  nymph,  to  pleaee  her  twain. 
Talks  in  a  high  romantie  stram ; 
Or  whether  he  at  last  desoendt 
To  act  with  lam  fleraphic«endt ; 
Or,  to  compoend  the  bosiaess,  whether 
They  teanper  love  and  books  together ; 
Most  never  to  DMmknid  be  told, 
Um  shall  the  oonscioiis  Mose  unfold. 

Meantime  the  mooinful  queen  of  love 
Led  hot  a  weary  Kfo  above. 
She  ventures  now  to  leave  the  skiet, 
Ovown  by  Vaaesea^k  conduct  wise : 
For,  though  by  one  perverse  event 
Pallas  had  erosB*d  her  lint  intent ; 
Though  her  design  was  nut  obtained  ; 
Yet  had  she  much  experience  gained. 
And  by  the  project  va'mly  try*d. 
Could  better  now  the  cautt  decide. 
She  gave  due  notice,  that  both  parties,  " 
Coram  Ttgna^proti^iUt  Mmriisy 
ShoiM  at  their  peril,  without  foil. 
Come  and  appMMr,  and  sate  their  ball. 
AU  met ;  and,  silence  thrice  proclaim'd. 
Doe  lawyer  to  each  side  was  nam*d. 
Tike  judge  disoover'd  m  her  foce 
Resentments  for  her  late  disgrace  $ 
And,  full  of  airier,  diame,  and  grM; 
Directed  them  to  miad  their  bnefv 
Nor  spend  their  time  to  show  their  readiog  ; 
She'd  have  a  swunary  proceedhigh 


She  gathered  under  every  bead 
The  sum  of  what  each  lawyer  said. 
Gave  her  own  reasons  last,  and  than 
Decreed  the  cause  against  the  ticii* 

But,  in  a  weighty  case  like  this. 
To  show  she  did  not  judge  anuss. 
Which  evil  tongues  might  else  report. 
She  made  a  speech  in  open  court. 
Wherein  she  grievously  complains, 
"  How  she  was  cheated  by  the  swains^ 
On  whose  petition  (humbly  showing. 
That  women  were  not  worth  the  wooing. 
And  that,  unless  the  sex  woukloiend. 
The  race  of  tovers  soon  must  ead) — 
She  was  at  Lord  knows  what  expense 
To  form  a  njrmph  of  wit  and  sense, 
A  model  for  her  sex  designVI, 
Who  never  could  one  lover  find. 
She  saw  her  fovour  was  misplae'd ;. 
The  fellows  had  a  wretehed  taste ; 
She  needs  must  tell  them  to  their  fofSe, 
They  were  a  stupid,  senseless  race ; 
And,  were  she  to  begin  again, 
She  *d  study  to  reform  the  men  ; 
Or  add  some  grams  of  folly  more 
To  vBomen,  than  they  had  befoir» 
To  put  them  on  an  equal  foot ; 
And  this,  or  nothing  else,  would  do  t. 
This  might  their  mutual  foncy  strike. 
Since  every  being  loves  its  like, 

'*  But  now,  repenting  what  was  done, 
She  left  all  business  to  her  son ; 
She  puts  the  world  in  his  possesrion, 
And  let  him  use  it  at  discretion.'' 

The  cryer  was  ordered  to  dIsmSsa 
The  court,  so  made  hit  last  0  yes ! 
The  goddess  would  tx>  longer  watt ; 
But«  rising  from  her  chair  of  state. 
Left  all  befow  at  six  and  seven, 
Hamess'd  her  doves,  and  flew  to  Heavea. 


TO  LOVE  K 

In  all  I  wish,  how  happy  should  I  be. 
Thou  grand  deludef  ,  were  it  noC  for  thee ! 
So  weak  thou  art,  that  fools  thy  power  despise ; 
And  yet  to  strong,  thoa  triuaph'st  a*er  the  wise. 
Thy  traps  are  laid  with  such  peculiar  ait. 
They  catch  the  cautloos,  let  the  rash  depart. 
Most  nets  are  fiU'd  by  want  of  thought  and  care : 
But  too  much  thinking  brings  nt  to  thy  sMne; 
Where,  held  by  thee,  in  slavery  we  stay. 
And  throw  the  pleasing  part  of  life  away. 
But,  what  does  most  my  hidignation  move. 
Discretion !  thou  wert  ne'er  a  friend  to  love  : 
Thy  chief  delight  b  to  defeat  those  arts. 
By  which  he  khidiei  mutual  flames  in  hearts ; 
While  the  bifaid  loitering  god  is  at  his  play, 
lliou  steal'st  his  golden-pointed  darts  away  ; 
Those  darts  which  never  foil ;  and  in  their  stead 
Coovey'st  malignant  arrono  tipt  with  lead  z 
The  heedless  god,  suj^pecting  no  deceits. 
Shoots  on,  aad  thinks  he  has  done  wondrous  feats; 
But  the  poor  nyoipli  wlio  feels  her  wlals  boni^ 
And  from  her  dt^JMaieao  And  nofetaniy 


her 


hi  lAm  ^NiiMari^i^  desk» 
death,  faithehaad-writrngof  Dr.  Swift. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


69i 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Laments,  and  rages  at  the  power  divine. 
When,  curst  Discretion !  all  the  fault  was  tbme : 
Cupid  and  Hymen  thou  hast  set  at>odds. 
And  bred  such  fends  between  those  kindred  gods. 
That  Venus  cannot  reconcile  her  eons  ; 
When  one  appears,  away  the  other  runs. 
The  former  scales,  wherein  he  U8*d  to  poise 
Love  against  love,  and  equal  joys  with  joys, 
Are  now  filPd  up  with  avarice  and  pride. 
Where  titles,  power  and  riches  still  subside. 
Then,  gentle  Venus,  to  thy  father  run. 
And  tell  him  how  thy  children  are  undone ; 
Prepare  his  bolts  to  give  one  fatal  blow, 
iLvd  strike  Discretion  to  the  shades  below. 


ODB  TO  SPRING, 

BY  A  LAW  K 

Hau.,  blushing  goddess,  beauteous  Spring, 
Who,  in  thy  jocund  train,  dost  bring 
Loves  and  graces,  smiling  hours. 
Balmy  breezes,  fragrant  flowers ; 
Come,  with  tints  of  roseate  hue, 
Nature's  faded  charms  renew.     ^ 

Yet  why  should  1  thy  presence  hail  ?  ^ 
To  me  no  more  the  breathing  gale 
Comes  fraught  with  sweets ;  no  more  the  rose 
With  such  transcendent  beauty  blows. 
As  when  Cadenus  blest  the  scene. 
And  shar*d  with  me  those  joys  serene ; 
When,  unperceiv'd,  the  lambent  fire 
Of  friendship  kindled  new  desire : 
Still  listening  to  his  tuneful  tongue. 
The  truths,  which  angels  might  have  sung. 
Divine,  imprest  their  gentle  sway, 
And  sweetly  stole  my  soul  away. 
My  guide,  instructor,  lover,  friend, 
(Dear  names !)  in  one  idea  blend  ; 
Oh !  still  coi\)oin'd,  your  incense  rise. 
And  waft  sweet  odours  to  the  skies ! 


ODE  TO  WISDOM". 

IT  THE  SAMX. 

Oh,  Pidlas!  I  invoke  thy  aid  ! 
Vouchsafe  to  hear  a  wretched  'maid, 

By  tender  love  d^prest ; 
*Tis  just  that  thou  should*8t  heal  the  smart 
Inflicted  by  thy  subtle  art. 

And  calm  my  troubled  breast 

No  random-shot  from  Cupid*s  bow. 
But  by  thy  guidance,  soft  and  slow. 

It  sunk  within  my  heart  ;^ 
Thus,  love  being  arniM  with  wisdom's  force. 
In  vain  I  try  to  stop  its  course. 

In  vain  repel  the  darL 


O  goddess !  break  the  fiital  league  ; 
Let  love,  with  folly  and  intrigue, 

I  This  and  the  next  ode  have  been  ascribed  to  Va- 


More  fit  associates  find  t 
And  thou  alone  within  my  breast, 
O !  deign  to  soothe  my  griefs  to  rest. 

And  heal  my  tortur'd  mind. 


ji  REBUS. 


Vt   VANESSA. 


Cut  the  name  of  the  man  '  who  his  mistrEsdeiiy'^ 
And  let  the  first  of  it  be  only  apply*d 
To  join  with  the  prophet  *  who  David  did  chide  5 
Then  say  what  a  horse  is  that  runs  very  fast  3; 
And  that  which  deserves  to  be  first  put  the  last ; 
Spell  all  then,  and  put  them  together,  to  find 
llie  name  and  the  virtues  of  him  I  design'd. 
like  the  Patriarch  in  Egp3rt,  he 's  vers'd  in  the  stste; 
Like  the  Prophet  in  Jewry,  he 's  free  with  the  greats 
Like  a  raoer  he  flies,  to  succour  wKb  speed 
When  his  friends  want  bis  aid,  or  desert  is  in  need. 


THE  dean's  ANIWEE. 

The  nymph  who  wrote  this  iu  an  amorous  fit, 
I  cannot  but  envy  the  pride  of  her  wit» 
Which  thus  she  will  venture  profusely  to  throw 
On  so  mean  a  design,  and  a  subject  so  low. 
For  mean  's  her  design,  and  her  subject  as  meai^ 
The  first  but  a  rebus,  the  last  but  a  dean. 
A  dean*s  but  a  parson :  and  what  is  a  r^bus  ? 
A  thitig  never  known  to  the  Muses  or  Phoebus. 
The  corruption  of  verse ;  for,  when  all  is  done, 
It  is  but  a  paraphrase  made  on  a  pun. 
But  a  genius  like  her^s  no  subject  can  stifle. 
It  shows  and  discovers  itself  through  a  trifle. 
By  reading  this  trife,  I  auickly  b^an 
To  find  her  a  great  en'/,  but  the  dean  a  small  man. 
Rich  ladies  will  furnish  their  garrets  with  stuS; 
A^liich  others  for  mantuas  would  think  fine  enough : 
So  the  xmt  that  is  lavbhly  thrown  away  here. 
Might  furnish  a  second-rate  poet  a  year. 
Thus  much  for  the  verse ;  we  procMid  to  the  next. 
Where  the  nymph  had  entirely  forsaken  her  iexti 
Her  fine  panegyrics  are  quite  out  of  season. 
And  what  she  describes  to  be  merit  is  treason : 
The  changes  which  faction  has  made  m  the  state. 
Have  put  the  deanU  politics  quite  out  of  date : 
Now  no  one  regards  what  he  utters  with  freedom. 
And,  shoold  he  wntApampkletg,  no  great  man  would 

read  'em; 
And  should  vtant  or  desert  stand  in  need  of  his  aid. 
This  rocer  would  prove  but  a  dulUfbunder'd/atf«. 


HORACE,  B.  IL  ODE  l. 
PARAPHRASED. 

ASDEBISED  to  aiCHAED  STEELE,  ESQ.  1714. 

En  qui  promittit  cives.  lubem  sibi  eune, 
Imperium  fore,  &  Italiam,  &  delubra  deoraov 
Hor.  1  Sat.  vl  34. 

Dick,  thou  'rt  resolv*d,  as  I  am  toM, 
Some  strange  arcana  to  unfold, 

xj0.9eph,        ^Naikmu        ^Swjfi. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


HORACE 


399 


And,  with  the  help  of  Backley's  pen. 
To  vamp  the  good  old  cause  again. 
Which  thou  (such  Burnet's  shrewd  advice  is) 
Mustfurhish  up,  and  nickname  Crisis. 
II10U  pompously  wilt  let  us  know 
What  all  the  world  knew  long  ago, 
(EW  since  sir  William  Gore  was  mayor 
And  Harley  filPd  the  commons'  chair) 
That  we  a  German  prince  must  own 
When  Anne  for  Heaven  resigns  her  throne. 
But,  nnore  than  that,  thou  'It  keep  a  rout 
With — who  is  in — and  who  is  out ; 
Thou  'It  rail  devoutly  at  the  peace. 
And  all  its  secret  caiues  trace, 
The  bucket-play  *twixt  Whigs  and  Tories, 
Their  ups  and  downs,  with  fifty  stories 
Of  tricks  the  lord  of  Oxford  knows. 
And  errours  of  our  plenipoes. 
Thou  Mt  tell  of  leagues  among  the  great, 
Portending  ruin  to  our  state ; 
And  of  that  dreadful  coup  d*eclat. 
Which  has  afforded  thee  much  chat. 
The  queen,  forsooth,  {despotic)  gave 
Twelve  coronets  without  thy  leave ! 
A  breach  of  liberty,  'tis  own'd, 
For  which  tio  heads  have  yet  aton'd  ! 
Believe  me,  what  thou  'st  undertaken 
May  bring  in  jeopardy  thy  bacon ; 
For  madmen,  children,  wits,  and  fools,  ^ 

Should  never  meddle  with  edg'd  tools. 
Bbt,  since  thou  'rt  got  into  the  fire. 
And  canst  not  easily  retire. 
Thou  must  no  longer  deal  m  farce, 
Nor  pump  to  cobble  wicked  verse ; 
Until  thou  Shalt  hare  eas'd  thy  conscience. 
Of  spleen,  of  politics,  and  nonsense ; 
And,  when  thou  'st  bid  adieu  to  cares. 
And  settled  Europe's  grand  afl&iirs, 
'Twill  then,  perhaps,  be  worth  thy  while 
For  Drury-lane  to  shape  thy  stile : 
**  To  make  a  pair  of  jolly  fellows, 
Thf  son  and  father  join,  to  tell  us 
How  sons  may  safely  disobey. 
And  lathers  never  should  say  nay; 
By  which  wise  conduct  they  grow  friends 
\  At  last — and  so  the  story  ends  »." 

When  first  I  knew  thee,  Dick,  thou  wert 
Renown'd  for  skill  in  Fatistus'  art  «, 
Which  made  thy  closet  much  frequented 
By  buxom  lasses — some  repented 
llieir  luckless  choice  of  husbandsr-others. 
Impatient  to  be  like  their  mothers, 
Receiv'd  from  thee  profound  directions 
How  best  to  settle  their  affections. 
Thus  thou,  a  friend  to  the  distressed, 
IKdst  in  thy  calling  do  thy  best 

But  now  the  senate  (if  things  hit. 
And  thou  at  Stockbridge  wert  not  bit) 
Must  fee)  thy  eloquence  and  fire. 
Approve  thy  schemes^  thy  wit  admire. 
Thee  with  immortal  honours  crown. 
Whilst,  patriot4ike,  Uiou  'It  strut  and  frown. 

1  ^Tbis  is  said  to  be  a  plot  of  a  comedy  with 
which  Mr.  Steele  has  long  threatened  the  town. 
Swift— In  some  particulars  it  would  apply  to  The 
ConscioQS  Lovers. 

>  There  were  some  tolerable  grounds  for  this  re- 
flection. Mr.  Steele  had  actually  a  laboratory  at 
Poplar. 


What  though  by  emmjes  'tis  said. 
The  laurel  which  adorns  thy  head. 
Must  oue  day  come  in  competition 
By  virtue  of  some  riy  petition  : 
Yet  mum  for  that ;  hope  still  the  best. 
Nor  let  such  cares  disturb  thy  rest 

Methinks  I  hear  thee  loud  as  trumpet^ 
As  bag-pipe  shrill,  or  oyster-strumpet ; 
Methinks  I  see  thee,  spruce  and  fine, 
Wi^  coat  embroider'd  richly  shine^ 
And  dazzle  all  the  idol-faces 
As  through  the  hall  thy  worship  paces ; 
(Though  this  I  speak  but  at  a  venture. 
Supposing  thou  hast  tick  with  Hunter) 
Methinks  I  see^a  black-guard  rout 
Attend  thy  coach,  and  hear  them  shout 
In  approbation  of  thy  tongue. 
Which  (in  their  style)  is  purely  hung^ 
Now !  now  you  carry  all  before  you  I 
Nor  dares  one  Jaco^te  or  Tory 
Pretend  to  answer  one  syl— table. 
Except  the  matchless  hero  Abel  '.  ■ 
What  though  her  highness  and  her  spouse 
In  Antwerp  *  keep  a  frugal  hodse. 
Yet  not  forgetful  of  a  friend. 
They  '11  soon  enable  thee  to  spend. 
If  to  Macartney  ^  thou  will  toast. 
And  to  his  ptous  patron*s  ghost. 
Now  manfully  thou  'It  run  a  tilt 
"  On  popes,  for  all  the  blood  they  »ve  spilt, 
For  massacres,  and  racks,  and  flames. 
For  lands  enrich'd  by  crimson  streams. 
For  inquisitions  taught  by  Spain, 
Of  which  the  Christian  world  complain.'* 

Dick,  we  agree— ^I's  true  thou  'st  said. 
As  that  my  Muse  is  yet  a  maid. 
But,  if  I  may  with  freedom  talk. 
All  this  is  foreign  to  thy  walk  : 
Thy  genius  has  peiliapt  a  knack 
At  trudging  in  a  beaten  track, 
But  is  for  state  affairs  aa  fit. 
As  mine  for  politics  and  wit 
Then  let  us  both  in  time  grow  wise. 
Nor  higher  than  our  talents  rise; 
To  some  snug  cellar  let 's  repair 
From  duns  and  debts,  and  drown  our  care ; 
Now  quaff  of  honest  ale  a  quart. 
Now  venture  at  a  pint  of  port. 
With  which  inspir'd,  we  '11  clubeadi  night 
Some  tender  sonnet  to  indite, 
And  with  Tom  D'Urfey,' Philips,  Dennis, 
tmoMrtalize  our  Dolls  and  Jennejrs. 


HORACE,  BOOK  L  EP.  V. 

JOHN    DBNNIS    THS    8BBLTBKINO     FOBT's    INVrTATIOll 
TO  aiCHAaO  STBBLB,TBB  SP.CLUOBO  PARTY-WBITBR, 
AND  MBMBBR,  TO  COMB  AND  LIVB  WITH  Hill  IN  TAB   , 
MINT.  1714  >. 

vrr  TO  IB  BOUND  UP  wrrR  tbb  ciists. 

If  thou' canst  lay  aside  a  spendthrift's  air. 
And  condescend  to  feed  on  homely  fare, 

3  Abel  Boper. 

*  Where  the  duke  of  Marlborough  then  resided. 

^  General  Macartney,  who  killed  duke  Hamilton. 

>  This  and  the  preceding  poem  are  printed  ^m, 

copies  in  the  Lainbeth  library,  K.  1,  2,  39,  30.  4to^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


400 


Such  as  we  mMHeit,  viCh  rugbtM  iiWlorM, 
Will,  in  defiance  of  tbe  law,  atlbrd.- 
Quit  tbf  patrols  with  Toby's  Christmas-box, 
And  oome  to  me  at  the  Two  Fighting  Cocks ; 
Since  printing  by  subscription  now  is  grown. 
The  stalest,  idlest  cheat  about  the  town ; 
And  ev*n  Oiarles  Qildon,  who,  a  papist  bred. 
Has  an  afarm  against  that  woiship  spread. 
Is  practising  those  beaten  paths  of  crui^g. 
And  for  new  leries  on  proposals  musing. 

lis  true,  that  Bloomsbury-iquare's  a  noble  place : 
But  .what  at«  krfty  buildings  in  thy  case } 
What 's  a  fine  house  embellished  to  profusion. 
Where  shoulder-dabbers  are  in  execution  ? 
Or  whence  its  timorous  tenant  seldom  sallies. 
But  apprehensive  of  insulting  bailiffs  ? 
This  once  be  mindful  of  a  friends  advice. 
And  cease  to  be  impruvidently  nice ; 
Exchange  the  prospects  that  delude  thy  sight. 
From  Highgatp's  steep  ascent,  and  Hampstead*s 

height. 
With  verdant  scenes,  thftt,  from  St  George's  field. 
More  durable  and  ^fe  enjoyments  yield. 

Here  I,  ev'n  I,  that  ne'er  till  now  could  find 
Ease  to  my  troubled  and  suspicious  mind. 
But  ever  was  with  jealousies  possessed'. 
Am  in  a  state  of  indolence  and  rest ; 
Fearful  no  more  of  Frenchmen  m  disguise. 
Nor  looking  upon  strangers  as  <Mt  spies. 
But  quite  divested  of  my  ibrmer  spleen. 
Am  unprovok'd  without  and  calm  within  : 
And  here  I  tl  wait  thy  coming»  till  the  Sufi 
S^U  its  d'mmal  course  completely  run. 
Think  not  that  thou  of  stuitly  butt  shah  fall : 
My  landlord's  cellar 's  stocked  with  beer  and  ale^ 
With  every  sort  of  malt  that  is  m  use. 
And  every  county's  geufefous  produce. 
The  ready  (for  here  Christian  faith  is  sick. 
Which  makes  us  seldom  trespass  upon  tick) 
Instantly  brings  the  choicest  Ik^nors  out. 
Whether  we  ask  for  home^brew'd  or  for  itooty 
For  mead  or  cider,  or,  with  dainties  fod, 
Rmg  for  a  fiask  or  two  of  «hite  or  red. 
Such  as  the  drawer  will  not  foil  to  swear 
Was  drunk  by  Pilkington  when  third  thne  mayor. 
That  name,  methinks,  so  popularly  known 
For  opposition  to  the  church  and  crown, 
Might  make  the  Lusitanian  grape  to  pass. 
And  almost  give  a  hmctioo  to  the  glass ; 
Especially  with  thee,  whose  hasty  zeal 
Against  the  late  rejected  commert'e-bUl 
Made  thee  rise  np,  like  an  aodacioos  eft. 
To  do  ihe  speaker  honour^  not  thyselt 

But,  if  tnou  soai'st  above  the  common  prices. 
By  virtue  of  subscription  to  thy  Crisb, 
And  nothing  can  go  down  with  thee,  but  wines 
Press'd  frdm  Borgundian  and  CampADtan  vhies, 
Vd  them  be  brought ;  for,  tbou^  I  batethe  French, 
I  lore  tiieir  Hqaon,  as  thou  tov'st  a  wench ; 
Else  thou  must  humble  thy  expensive  taste. 
And,  with  us,  bold  oooteninMiit  for  a  feast. 

The  fire's  air  ady  lighted ;  and  the  maid 
Has  a  clean  doth  npon  the  teble  laid. 
Who  never  on  a  Saturday  had  struck, 
But  for  thy  entertainment,  up  a  buck. 
Iliink  of  this  act  tifgface,  which  by  your  leatw 
Susan  would  not  hm  done  oo  JEa^er  eve,. 
Had  she  not  been  informed  over  and  over, 
Tftw  for  th'  ingefuoos  author  of  T^e  Lorer» 


SWIFTS  K)EMS. 


Cease  therefore  to  beguile  diyself  with  hoptt, 
Which  is  no  more  than  making  sandy  ropes, 
And  quit  the  vain  pursuit  of  loud  applause. 
That  must  bewilder  thee  in  faction's  cause. 
Piy'thee  what  ist  to  thee  who  guides  the  State  ? 
MThy  Dunkirk's  demolition  is  so  late  ? 
Or  why  her  majesty  thinks  fit  to  cease 
The  din  of  war,  and  hush  the  world  to  peace? 
The  clergy  too,  without  thy  aid,  can  tell 
What  texts  to  choose,  and  on  what  topics  dwcU  i 
And,  uninstructed  by  thy  babbling,  teach 
Their  flocks  celestial  happiness  to  reach. 
Rather  let  such  poor  souls  as  you  aul  I 
Say  that  the  holydays  arc  drawing  nigh. 
Ami  tbat  tomorrow's  sun  begins  the  meek. 
Which  will  abound  with  store  of  ale  and  cake. 
With  hams  of  bacon,  and  with  powder'd  beef, 
StufTd  to  give  field-itinerants  relie£  ^ 

Then  I,  who  have  within  these  prechicts  l^pt, 
,And  ne'er  beyond  the  Chimney-cweepers  stspt. 
Will  take  a  loose,  and  venture  to  be  seen. 
Since  twill  be  Sunday,  upon  Shanks's  green; 
There,  with  erected  looks  and  phrase  siMime, 
To  talk  of  unity  of  place  and  time. 
And  with  much  malice,  mix'd  with  little  satire^ 
Explode  the  wits  on  t'other  side  oth'  water. 

Why  has  my  lord  Godolphin^s  special  graoe 
Invested  me  with  a  queen VwaJter's  place. 
If  I,  debarr*d  of  festival  delights. 
Am  not  allow'd  to  spend  the  perquisites? 
He  's  but  a  short  remove  from  being  mad. 
Who  at  a  time  of  jubilee  is  sad ; 
And,  hlce  a  gripoig  usurer,  does  spare 
His  money  to  be  squander'd  by  his  heir; 
Flutter'^  away  in  liveries  and  in  coaches. 
And  washy  softs  of  feminine  debauches. 
As  fbr  my  part,  whate'er  the  world  may  thnk, 
I 'U  bid  adieu  to  gravity  and  drink; 
And  though  I  can't  put  off  a  woefol  mien. 
Will  be  dl  mirth  and  cheerfulness  within : 
Ab,  in  despight  of  a  censorious  race, 
I  most  faKontinently  suck  my  foce. 
What  mighty  prcriecte  does  not  he  demgn. 
Whose  stomach  flows,  and  brain  turns  round  wift 

wine? 
Wine,  powerful  wine,  can  thaw  the  frozen  dt. 
And  fashkm  him  to  huoKMirand  to  wit; 
Makes  even  S*^^^  to  disclose  his  ait, 
By  racking  etery  secret  finom  his  heart. 
As  he  flmgs  off  the  statesman's  sly  disguise. 
To  name  the  cuckold's  wife  with  whom  he  lies. 
Bv'n  Sarum,  when  he  quaft  it  stead  of  tsa. 
Fancies  himself  in  Cantsrbury's  see ; 
And  S*#»«**,  when  he  carousing  reeb. 
Imagines  that  he  has  refain'd  the  seab : 
W******,  by  virtue  of  its  juice,  can  fight. 
And  Stanhope  of  commissioners  make  light. 
Wine  gives  lord  William  aptitude  of  parts. 
And  swells  him  with  his  family's  deserts : 
Whom  can  it  not  wake  eloquent  of  qieech  ? 
Whom  in  extremest  poverty  not  rich ' 
Since,  by  the  means  of  the  prevailing  grape, 
Th*i^*^  can  Lechmere-s  wannth  net  only  ape, 
But,  half-seas  o'er,  by  its  inspiring  boonties^ 
Can  qualify  himself  in  several  counties. 
What  I  have  promised,  thou  mayst  rest  assur'dy 
Shall  foithfiiUy  and  gkidly  be  piocui'd. 
Nay,  I  'm  ahiady  better  than  m^  woni. 
New  plates  and  knives  adorn  the  jovial  boaid  ; 


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TO  LORD  ftARLEY. 


401 


And,  lest  thOQ  tC  tiieit  nght  shonl^tt  make  tr ry  fates, 
The  girl  has  soower'd' the  pots,  and  wash*d  the  glasses, 
Ta*en  care  90"«5ecel1eiitly  weH  to  clean  'em, 
That  thou  mavsti  see  thine  own  dear  picture  m  'em. 

Moreover,  clue  provision  has  been  made. 
That  conversation  may  not  be  betray'd ; 
I  have  no  company  but  what  is  proper 
To  sit  with  the  most  ftsj^nt  Whig  at  supper. 
There  's  not  a  man  among  them  but  must  please. 
Since  they  >te  as  ISke  each  other  as  are  peas. 
ToJand  and  Hare  have  jointly  scmt  me  word, 
They  'II  cotiiit ;  and  K^nnet  thinks  to  make  a  third. 
Provided  he  'as  nO  other  invitation, 
From  men  of  greater  quality  and  station. 
Room  will  for  Oldmfamn  and  J-^  be  left ; 
But  their  discourKS  smell  too  much  of  theft : 
There  would  be  no  abiding  in  the  room. 
Should  two  such  ignorant  pretenders  come. 
However,  by  this  trusty  bearer  write, 
If  I  should  any  other  scabs  invite ; 
Though  if  I  may  my  senous  judgment  give, 
I  'm  wholly  for  king  Charies's  number  five  : 
That  was  the  stint  in  which  that  monarch  fii^'d, 
Who  would  not  be  with  noisiness  perplex'd : 
And  that,  if  thou  'It  agree  to  thhik  it  best, 
Shall  be  our  tale  of  hc^ds,  without  one  other  guest. 

I  've  nothing  more,  now  this  is  said,  to  say. 
But  to  request  thou  'H  instantly  away. 
And  leave  the  duties  of  thy  present  post* 
To  some  well-skill'd  retainer  to  a  host; 
Doubtless  he  '11  carefully  thy  place  supply. 
And  o'er  his  grace's  horses  have  an  eye,         [once. 
While  thou,  who'st  shmk  through  postern  more  than 
Dost  by  that  means  avoid  a  crowd  of  duns, 
And,  crossing  o'er  the  Thames  at  Temple-stairs, 
LeaVst  Pbilipf  with  good  words  to  cheat  their  ears. 


TO  LORD  HURLEY, 

ON  tfIS  MAlUtlAGC,  1713. 

Amovo  the  numbers  who  employ 
Hietr  tongaes  and  pens  to  give  you  joy. 
Dear  Harley !  generous  youth,  admit      * 
What  friendship  dictates  more  than  wit. 

Forgive  me,  when  I  fondly  thought 
(By  frequent  observations  taught) 
A  spirit  so  infbrmHi  as*  yours 
Could  never  prosper  in  amours. 
The  god  of  wit,  and  light,  and  arts. 
With  all  aoqnSr'd  and  natural  parts. 
Whose  harp  could  savage  brasU  enchant. 
Was  an  unfortunate  gaHant.' 
Had  Bacchus  after  Daphne  reel'd, 
The  nymph  had  soort  been  brought  to  yield : 
Or,  h(^  embroidered  Mars  pursued, 
The  nymph  would  Wer  have  been  a  prude. 
Ten  thousand  footsteps,  full  in  view, 
Mark  out  the  wa^  where  Daphn^  flew : 
Tbr  such  is  all  die  sex's  flight. 
They  fly  from  learning,'  wit,  and  light': 
They  fly,,  and  none  can  overtake 
Bat  80in£'  gay  cotdomb,  or  a  rake^ 

How  then,  dear  Harle^,  could t  guess' 
That  yoo  should  meet,  in  love,  success } 
For,  if  tboa6«ntSeat  tatei  be  tni^ 
Phoebus  was  beautiful  as  3rou : 

VOL.  XL 


Yet  Daphne  never  slatik'd  fter  pnce. 
For  wit  and  learning  spoiTd  his  fhc^. 
And,  since  the  same  resembJancc  hiHdf 
In  gifts  wherein  you  both  exCelVd, 
I  fancy'd  every  n^nAph  wmild  niik 
From  you,  as  from  Latona^s  son. 

Then  where,  said  I,  shall  Ha'ridy  fltitf 
A  virgin  of  superior  mind. 
With  wit  and  virtuie  t»  discover. 
And  pay  the  merit  of  her  Ibver  ? 

This  character  shall  Ca'entlish  claittf^ 
Bom  to  retrieve  her  sex's  fame. 
The  chief  among  the  glittering  <irowid. 
Of  titles,  birth,  and  fortune  prOud', 
(As  fools  are  insolent  and  vain) 
Madly  aspir'd  to  wear  her  cHain  ; 
But  Pallas,  guardian  of  the  ihaid. 
Descending  to  her  charge's  aid^ 
Held  out  Medusa's  snaky  locks, 
Which  stupify'd  them  all  to  stocks.* 
The  nymph  with  indignation  view'd 
The  dull,  the  noisy,  and  the  l^d: 
For  Pallas,  with  celestial  light. 
Had  purify'd  her  mortal  sight ; 
Show'd  her  the  virtues  all  combin'd, 
Fresh  bloommg,  in  jroung  HaHey's  mlriS. 

Terrestrial  nymphs,  by  former  arts. 
Display  their  various  nets  for  hearts : 
iTheir  looks  are  all  by  method  set, 
I  When  to  be  prude,  and  when  coquette  ; 
Vet,  wanting  skill  and  power  to  dhnsc,' 
Their  only  pride  is  to  refuse. 
But,  when  a  goddess  would  bestow 
Her  love  on  some  bright  youth  below. 
Round  all  ^e  Earth  she  casts  her  eyes)' 
And  then,  descending  from  the  skies. 
Makes  choice  of  him  she  fancies  best. 
And  bids  the  ravish'd  youth  be  bless'd. 

Thus  the  bright  empress  of  the  morn 
'Chose,  for  her  spouse,  a  mortal  bom: 
The  goddess  made  advances  fint  ;- 
£lse  what  aspiring  hero  durst  ? 
Though,  like  a  virgin  of  fifteen. 
She  blushes  when  by  mortals  seen ; 
Still  blushes,  an^  with  speed  retires. 
When  Sol  pursues  her  with  ha  firfes. 

Diana  thus,  Heaven's  chastest  queien, 
pStruck  with  Endymion's  graceful  mien,- 
I>own  from  her  silver  chariot  came. 
And  to  the  shepherd  own'd  her  flame; 
]    Thns  Ca'endish,  as  Aurora  bright. 
And  chaster  than  the  queen  ofSi^t,' 
Descended  firom  her  sphere  to  find  > 
A  mortal  of  st:^}erior  kind. 


/V  sTckj^sk 


winTBM  IN  utiAim;  octOBtIk';  17 14.' 


HTis  true-^en  why  ahonld  I  repine 
To  see  my  Ufo  so  fast  declhie  } 
But  why  obacnrely  here  fdmie. 
Where  am  I  neither  lov'd  nor  known  ? 
My  state  of  health  none  care  to  le^m  ; 
My  life  is  here  no  foul's  concern : 
Atid  those  with  whom- 1  ndw  conveM^ 
Without  a  tear  will  tend  my  heaoe. 
D  D  . 


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408 

Removed  from  kind  Aibotfanot't  aid. 

Who  knows  his  art,  bat  not  bis  tradiey 

Preferring  his  regaid  for  me 

Before  his  credit  or  his  fee. 

Some  formal  visits,  looiks,  and  words. 

What  mere  humanity  affords, 

I  meet  perhaps  from  three  or  four. 

From  whom  I  once  expected  more; 

Which  those  who  tend  the  sick  for  pay 

Can  act  as  decently  as  they. 

But  no  obligiqg  tender  friend 

To  help  at  my  approaching  end. 

My  life  is  now  a  burden  grown 

To  others,  ere  it  be  my  own. 

Ye  formal  weepers  for  the  rick. 
In  your  last  offices  be  quick ; 
And  spare  my  absent  friends  the  grief 
To  hear,  yet  give  me  no  relief; 
Expired  to-day,  intomb^d  tomorrow,  .. 
When  known,  will  save  a  double  sorrow. 


THE  EABLE  OF  THE  BITCHES. 
wirmM  m  tbb  ybae  1715* 

PV  AN  ATTBMPT  TO  RBPBAL  TUB  TBST  ACT. 

A  BrrcH  that  was  full  pregnant  grown. 
By  all  the  dogs  and  cure  in  town, 
Fbding  her  ripen*d  time  was  come, 
Her  litter  teeming  from  her  womb, 
Went  here  and  there,  and  every  where. 
To  find  an  easy  place  to  lay-her. 

At  length  to  Music's  house  >  she  cam^, 
And  begg*d  like  one  both  blind  and  lame  ; 
"  My  only  friend,  my  dear,**  said  she, 
"  You  see  tis  mere  necessity 
Hath  sent  me  to  your  house  to  whelp; 
I  '11  die,  if  you  depy  your  help." 

With  fowning  whme,  and  rueful  tone, 
With  artful  righ  and  feigned  groan. 
With  ooudiant  cringe,,  and  flittering  tale, 
Smooth  Bawty  >  did  so  for  prevail. 
That  Music  gave  her  leitve  to  litter: 
Butmark  what  folfow'd— frith!  she  bit  her. 

Whole  baskets  full  of  bits  and  scraps. 
And  broth  enough  to  fill  her  pops ; 
For,  well  she  knew,  her  numerous  brood. 
For  want  of  milk,  would  suck  her  blood. 

But  when  she  thouicht  her  pains  were  done. 
And  now  'twas  high  time  to  be  gone ; 
in  civil  tcnans,— "  My  friend,"  says  she, 
^  My  house  yon  've  had  on  courtesy  ; 
And  now  I  earnestly  desire, 
That  you  would  with  your  cubs  retire: 
For,  should  you  stay  but  one  week  long^, 
I  shall  be  starv'd  with  cold  and  hunger." 

The  guest  reply'd — **  My  friend,  your  leave 
I  must  a  little  longer  crave ; 
,,3tay  till  itj  tender  cubs  can  find 
Then:  way — for  now,  you  see,  they  »re  bind ; 
But,  when  we  Ve  gafther'd  strength,  I  swear, 
We  '11  to  our  bam  again  repair." 

1  The  church  of  England. 

*  A  Scotch  name  for  a  bitch;  alluding  to  the  kh^- 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Thetimepaas*doh;  mdMoaie 
Her  kennel  once  again  to  claim ; 
But  Bawty,  lost  to  shame  and  hanour^ 
Set  all  her  cubs  at  once  upon  her  ; 
Made  her  retire,  and  quit  her  right. 
And  kradly  cry'd— "  A  bite  la  bitet» 

THB  MOIAL. 

Thus  did  the  Grecian  wooden  hoot 
Conceal  a  fetal  armed  force : 
No  sooner  brought  within  the  wa]l% 
But  Ilium  's  lost,  and  Priam  fells. 


HORACE,  BOOK  lU.  ODE  IL 

TO  THB  XABL  OF  OZFOtB,  K4TB 

toao  TBBASUiaa. 

SBKT  TO  Hllf  WHEW  IH  THB  TOWBB,  1617, 

How  blest  is  he  who  for  his  country  dies. 
Since  Death  pursues  the  coward  as  he  flies  I 
The  youth  ia  vain  would  fly  from  fate's  attad[. 
With  trembling  knees  and  terrour  at  hb  back ; 
Though  fear  sboukl  lend  him  phuons  like  the  wind. 
Yet  swifter  fate  will^eize  him  from  behind. 

Virtue  repuls'd,  yet  knows  not  to  repine. 
But  shall  with  imattainted  honour  shine ; 
Nor  stoops  to  take  the  «^^^  nor  \xft  it  dovi^ 
Just  as  the  rabble  please  to  smile  or  finown. 

Virtue,  to  crown  her  fevourites,  loves  to  txy 
Some  new  unbeaten  passage  to  the  sky ; 
Where  Jove  a  seat  among  the  gods  will  give 
To  those  who  die  for  meriting  to  live. 

Next,  faithful  silence  hath  a  sure  reward  ; 
Within  our  breast  be  every  secret  barr'd  1 
He  who  betrajrs  his  friend,  shall  never  be 
Under  one  roof,  or  in  one  ship,  with  me. 
For  who  with  traitors  would  his  safety  trust. 
Lest,  with  the  wicked,  Heaven  involve  the  just  ? 
And,  though  the  villain  'scape  awhile,  he  feels 
Slow  vengeance,  like  a  bkxm-hound,  at  his  1 


PHTLUa  i 

OB, 

THE  PROGRESS  OF  LOV^ 

1716. 

Dei poNDiMo  Phyllis  was  endued 

With  every  talent  of  a  prude : 

She  trembled  when  a  man  drew  near; 

Salute  her,  and  she  tum'd  her  ear  ; 

If  o'er  against  her  you  were  pJac'd, 

She  durst  not  look  above  your  waists    ~ 

She  'd  rather  take  you  to  her  bed. 

Than  let  you  see  her  dress  her  bead : 

In  church  yon  hear  her,  through  the  CfOH^ 

Repeat  the  oAio^iiliofi  kind : 


>  The  ensign  of  tha  fold  treasom^ 


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THE  PROGRESS  OF  LOVE. 


40» 


Ib  difirdiy  fecnreVfaSnd  her  fan. 
She  dnnt  behold  that  monster  man  ; 
lliere  jpractis'd  ho«r  to  place  her  brad, 
Jad  bit  ber  Iqpe  to  make  them  red; 
Or,  oo  the  mat  devoutly  kneeling. 
Would  1^  her  eyes  up  to  the  cieHng, 
And  heare  her  bosom  unaware; 
¥or  nea^lKianDg  heKtCL  to  wee  it  hue. 

At  length  a  lucky  kver  came. 
And  found  admHtance  to  the  dame. 
8u|yoae  all  parties  notr  agreed, 
Tim  writings  drawn,  the  lawyer  fee'd,  - 
Hie  Ticar  and  the  ring  bespoke : 
Ooea,  bow  could  soch  a  match  be  broke } 
See  then  what  mortals  place  their  bliss  m  ! 
Nest  mom  betimes  the  bride  was  missing : 
The  mother  scream*d,  the  fitther  chid  ; 
Where  can  thb  idle  wench  be  hid  ? 
KonewsofPhyll  the  bridegroom  came. 
And  thought  his  bride  had  skulked  for  shame  ; 
Because  her  lather  us'd  to  say. 
The  girl  had  such  a  btuhful  way  ! 

Now  John  the  butler  must  be  sent 
To  learn  the  road  that  Phyllis  went 
The  groom  was  wished  to  saddle  Crop; 
For  John  must  neither  light  nor  stop. 
But  find  her,  wheresoever  she  fled. 
And  bring  her  back,  alire  or  dead« 

See  here  again  the  deril  to  do ! 
For  truly  John  was  missing  too : 
Hie  horse  and  pilBon  both  were  gone  ? 
Phjrllis,  it  seems,  was  fled  with  John. 

OM  Madam,  who  went  up  to  find 
What  papers  Phyl  bad  lea  behbid, 
A  letter  on  the  toilet  sees» 
To  wy  mnuh  honour* d  father— iheBt-^ 
(Tis  always  done,  romances  tell  us. 
When  daughters  run  away  with  fellows) 
IWd  with  the  choicest  common-places. 
By  otiiers  us'd  m  the  like  cases. 
*•  That  long  ago  ti  fortune-teller 
Eaactly  said  what  now  befel  her; 
And  in  a  glass  bad  made  her  see 
A  eerving-man  qflow  degree 
It  was  her  fate,  must  be  forgiven ; 
For  marriages  were  made  in  heaven  .* 
His  pardon  begg'd  :  but,  to  be  plain, 
She*d  do  '/,  if^tteere  to  do  again  : 
Tbank'd  God,  'twas  neither  shame  nor  sin; 
For  John  was  ^me  of  honest  kin. 
Lore  nerer  thinks  of  nch  and  poor : 
She  *d  beg  with  John  from  door  to  door. 
Forgive  her,  if  it  be  a  crime; 
She  '11  never  do*t  another  time. 
She  ne'er  before  in  all  her  life 
Once  disobey'd  bun,  maid  nor  wife. 
One  ai^B^ument  she  summ'd  up  all  in. 
The  thing  was  done,  and  past  recalling ; 
And  therefore  hop*d  she  should  recover 
His  forour,  when  his  passion  *s  over. 
She  valued  not  what  others  thought  her. 
And  was— his  wtost  obedient  daughter." 

Fair  maidens,  all  attend  the  Muse, 
Who  now  the  wandering  pair  pursues  9 
Away  they  rode  in  homely  sort. 
Their  journey  long,  their  money  short ; 
The  loving  couple  well  bemir*d ; 
The  bone  and  both  the  riden  tii'd  : 


Their  victuals  bad,  their  lodging  worse  ; 
Phyl  cry'd,  and  John  began  to  cune : 
Phyl  wish'd  that  she  had  strain'd  a  limb. 
When  first  she  ventur'd  out  with  him, 
John  wish'd  that  he  had  broke  a  leg. 
When  first  for  her  he  quitted  Peg. 

But  what  adventures  more  befel  them. 
The  Muse  hath  now  no  time  to  tell  them. 
How  Johnny  wheedled,  threaten'd,  fawn'd. 
Till  Phyllis  all  her  trinkets  pawn'd : 
How  ciV  she  broke  her  marriage  vows 
In  kindness  to  maintain  her  n>ouse. 
Till  swains  unwholesome  spoird  the  trade  ; 
For  now  the  surgeons  must  be  paid. 
To  whom  those  perquisites  are  gone. 
In  Christian  justice  due  to  John. 

When  food  and  raiment  now  grew  scarce, 
Fate  put  a  period  to  the  fiuroe. 
And  with  exact  poetic  justice ; 
tor  John  was  landlord,  Phyllis  hostess ; 
They  kept,  at  Staines,  the  Old  Blue  Boar, 
Are  oat  and  dog,  and  rogiie  and  whore. 


4n  AMICUM  BRVntTVIC 

THOMAM  SHERWAK, 

1717. 

DsLicuB  Sheridan  Musarum,  dulcis  amice. 
Si  tibi  propitius  Permessi  ad  flumen  Apollo 
Occurrat,  ^u  te  mimum  convivia  rident, 
JEquivocoitque  sales  spargis,  seu  ludere  versu 
Malles ;  die,  Sheridan,  quisnam  fuit  ille  deorum. 
Que  melior  natura  orto  tibi  tradidit  artem 
Rimandi  geniom  puerorum,  atque  ima  cerebri 
Scrutandi  ?  Tibi  nascenti  ad  cunabula  Pallas 
Astitit ;  k,  dixit,  mentis  praesaga  futune, 
Heu,  puer  infelix !  nostro  sub  sidere  natus ; 
Nam  tn  pectus  eris  sine  corpora,  corporis  umbra  { 
Sed  levitate  umbram  superabis,  voce  cicadam : 
Musca  femur,  palmas  tibi  mus  dedit,  ardea  crura. 
Corpore  sed  tenui  tibi  quod  natura  negavit. 
Hoc  animi  dotes  supplebunt;  teque  docente. 
Nee  longum  tempus,  surget  tibi  docta  juventus, 
Artibus  <>gregiis  animas  instructa  novella**. 
Grex  bine  Peeonhis  venit,  ecce,  salutfer  orbi. 
Ast,  illi  causes  oraot ;  bis  insula  visa  est 
Divinam  capiti  nodo  constringere  mitram. 

Natalis  te  Jtofte  npn  fallunt  sigan,  sed  usque  ' 
Conscius,  expedias  puero  seu  Istus  Apollo 
Nascenti  amsit ;  sive  ilium  frigridns  horror 
Satumi  premit,  aut  septem  inflavere  triones. 

Quin  tu  alt^  penitusque  l&teotia  semina  cemiSj^ 
Qoseque  diu  obtondendo  olim  sub  luminis  auras 
Erumpent,  promis ;  quo  ritu  saepd  puella 
Sub  cinere  bestemo  sopitos  suscitat  ignes. 

Te  dominum  agnoscit  quocunque  sub  a^re  natus  | 
Quos  indulgentis  nitntum  custodia  matj-is 
Pessundat :  nam  sasp^  vides  in  stipite  mntrenu 

Aureus  at  ramus,  venerand«  dona  Sybills, 
JEnesb  sedes  tantiim  patefecit  Avemus ; 
Sep^  puer  tua  quem  tetigit  semel  aurea  virga 
Cbelumque  tefraiqua  videt,  noctemque  profuodaoL 


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M* 


SWIFTS  ?OEMS« 


HORACE,  BOOK  tV.  ODB  IX 

ADPW9SSB0  TO  ABP.  KIMO, 

1718. 

Virtue  conccaVd  within  our  breast 

Is  ina(;Uvity  at  best : 

But  never  «haU  the  Muse  endure 

To  l<*i  your  virtues  Ije  obscure, 

Or  suffer  envy  to  conoca! 

Your  labours  for  the  public  weal. 

"Within  your  breast  all  wisdom  lies, 

Kither  to  govern  or  advise ; 

Your  steady  soul  presen-es  her  frame 

In  good  and  evil  tiroes  the  same. 

Pale  avarice  and  lurkint;  fraud 

Stand  IB  your  sacved  presence  aw'd  ; 

Your  band  alone  from  p*\i\  abstaiw*, 

Which  dragi>  the  slavish  workl  in  cbaini* 

Ilim  for  a  happy  man  I  own, 
Wh<»e  fortune  is  not  overgrown  ; 
And  happy  he,  who  wisely  knows 
To  use  the  gifts  that  Heaven  bestows  j 
Or,  if  it  please  the  powers  divine, 
Can  sufier  want,  ana  not  rcpine« 
The  man  who,  infamy  to  shun. 
Into  the  arms  of  death  would  run, 
That  man  is  ready  to  defend 
With  life  his  country,  or  bis  firiend. 


TO  MR.  DELANV, 

Nov.  10,  1718. 


To^you,  whose  virtues^  I  must  own 
With  sbame,  I  have  tx>  lately  known  ) 
To  you»  by  art  and  nature  taught 
To  be  the  man  I  long  have  sought. 
Had  not  ill  fate,  perverse  and  blind, 
PlacM  you  in  life  too  iu  behind ; 
Or,  what  1  should  repine  at  more. 
Placed  me  in  life  too  far  before  : 
To  you  the  Muse  this  verse  bestows. 
Which  might  as  well  have  been  in  pros^  ; 
No  thought,  no  fency,  no  sublime. 
But  simple  topics  told  in  rhyme. 

Talents  for  conversat'on  fit. 
Are  humour,  breeding,  sense,  and.  wit :  • 
The  last,  as  boondless  as  the  wind. 
Is  well  cooceiv'd,  though  not  defin'd ; 
For,  sure,  by  wit  is  chiefly  meant 
Applyhsgwell  what  we  invent* 
What  humour  is,  not  all  the  tribe 
Of  logic-mongers  can  describe  ; 
Here  nature  only  acts  her  part, 
Unhelp^d  by.  practice,  books,  or  art : 
For  wit  and  humour  differ  quite; 
That  gives  surprise,  and  this  delight* 
Humour  is  odd,  grotesque,  and  mV3^ 
Only  by  aifectationrspoiPd : 
'TIS  never  by  invention  got. 
Men  have  it  when  they  know,  it  nB$^ 

Our  conversation  to  refine. 
Humour  and  wit  must  both  Qonibiiie:; 
Fh>m  both  we  learn  to  rally  well, 
^Vherein  sometimes  the  French  excel. 


Voiture,  in  various  ligfata,  displeFi. 

That  irony  which  turns  to  praise  i 

His  genius  first  found  out  the  mlfi 

For  an  obliging  ridicule  : 

He  flatters  with  pecuhar,  air 

The  brave,  the  wiUy,  and  the  fiiir : 

And  fools  would  fancy  he  intends 

A  satire,  wher^  he  most  coaoieodf* 
But,  as  a  poor  pretending  beau. 

Because  he  fain  wouk)  make  a  shoW| 

Nor  can  arrive  at  silver  lace,. 

Takes  up  with  copper  in  the  place : 

So  the  pert  dunces  of  mankind. 

Whene'er  they  would  be  thought  refin!d , 

As  if  the  diti^rence  lay  abstruse 

Twixt  raillery  and  gross  abuse ; 

To  show  their  pert*  wjH  scold  and  nuU 

Like  porters  o*er  a,  pot  of  ale 

Such  is  that  clan  of  boisterous  boats. 

Always  together  by  the  ears; 

Shrewd  fellows  and  arch  wags,  a  tribe 

That  meet  fur  nothing  but  a  gibe  j 

Who  first  run  one  another  down. 

And  then  (all  foul  of  all  the  town ; 

Skill'd  in  the  hone-laugh  and  dry  rub. 

And  calPd  by  exoellence  The  Quh, 

1  mean  your  Butler»  Dawson,  Car, 

All  special  friends,  and  always  jar* 

The  mettled  and  the  vicKMis  steed 
Difier  as  little  in  their  breed  ; 
Nay,  Voiture  is  aahke  Tom  Lejgh 
As  rudeness  is  to  repartee. 

If  what  you  said  1  wish  unspoke, 
*Twill  not  suffice  it  was  a  joke : 
Reproach  not,  though  m  jest,  a  friend. 
For  those  defS&cts  he  cannot  mend ; 
His  lineage,  calling,  shape,  or  sense. 
If  nam'd  with  scorn,  gives  just  offence. 

What  use  in  life  to  make  men  fret. 
Part  in  worse  humour  than  they  mek? 
Thus  all  society  is  lost. 
Men  laugh  at  one  another's  cost ; 
And  half  the  company  is  teas'd. 
That  came  together  to  be  pleasM : 
For  all  builbons  have  most  in  view 
To  please  themselves  by  vexing  you. 

You  wonder  now  to  see  me  write 
So  gravely  on  a  subject  light : 
Some  part  of  what  I  here  design. 
Regards  a  friend  «  of  yours  and  mines 
Who,  neither  void  of  sense  nor  wit. 
Yet  seldom  judges  what  is  fit. 
But  sallies  oft  beyond  his  bounds. 
And  takes  unmeasurable  rounds. 

When  jests  are  carried  on  too  &r. 
And  the  loud  laugh  begins  the  waiv 
You  keep  your  countenance  for  shame. 
Yet  stilt  ynu  think  your  friend  to.  blame  s 
For,  though  men  ciy  they  love  a  jest* 
Tis  but  when  others  stand  the  test ; 
And  (would  j^ou  have  th^  tvwniiit^laioivil), 
They  love  a  jest  that  iatheur  oynu. 

Yon  must,  althpvgb.tbe  point  b«s  w^ 
Bestow  your  friend  SQni^.gpod  adiricfL: 
One  hint  from  you  wiU.a^him.ri|^ 
And  teach  hi|Qj)av  to.h$bp4iJt«» 

1  Dr.  Sheridea. 


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A  LEFTHANIOS)  I^TTEEL 


405 


an  4iitti,  Ifhe  yMi,  ebserre  iHth'tere, 

Vfb6m  N>  be  htttd  <»>,  whom  to  spae; 

Kor  iiidtstiiictly  to  suppose 

All  subjects  like  Dan  Jackson's  nos^  \ 

To  study  the  obliging  jeit, 

By  reading  those  who  teach  it  best ; 

Tar  prose  I  recommend  ▼oiture's, 

For  verse  (I  speak  my  judgmeut)  yours« 

He  '11  find  the  secret  out  from  thence, 

To  rhyme  all  day  without  otfence  i 

And  I  no  more  shall  then  accuse 

The  flirts  of  his  ill-manner'd  Muse. 

If  he  be  guilty,  you  must  raend  hJrfi  j 
If  he  be  innooenti^  defend  him. 


Jl  LEhT^H^iNDED  LETTER 
TO  DH,  SHERIDAN  K     1718. 
Sn, 

Pelahy  reports  it,  and  he  has  a  shrewd  tbngae, 
That  we  both  act  the  part  of  the  down  and  co-v-dungj 
We  lye  cramming  onrselves,  and  are  ready  to  bdrst. 
Yet  still  are  no  wiser  than  we  were  at  first 
Pudet  hax  ofprohrkL,  I  freely  must  tell  ye, 
Et  did  potuuse,  et  non  potuhte  rrfelii. 
Though  Delany  advisM  yoa  to  |>lAgoe  me  no  longer. 
You  reply  and  rejoin  like  Hoadly  of  Bangor. 
I  must  now,  at  one  sitting,  pay  off  my  old  score ; 
How  many  to  answer  ^  One,  two,  three,  fonr. 
But,  because  the  three  formerare  long  ago  past, 
I  shall,  for  method  ssk^,  begin  with  the  laatt. 
You  treat  me  like  a  boy  tiiat  knocks  down  his  foo, 
Who,  ere  t'other  gets  up,  demands  the  rising  Mow. 
Yet  I  know  a  young  rogue,  that,  thrown  flat  on  tlie 

field. 
Would,  as  he  Uy  under,  cry  out,  <'  Snrrah  ?  yield." 
So  the  French, when  our  generalssonndiydidpay'em. 
Went  triumphant  to  church,  and  sang  stoutly  Te 

Deum, 
So  the  fionous  Ibm  Leigh,  when  quite  run  agrdund. 
Comes  off  by  ont-leughtng  the  company  round. 
In  every  vile  pamphlet  you  '11  read  Uxe  same  fuicies, 
Having  thus  overthrown  all  our  further  advances. 
My  o&rs  of  peace  you  rH  understood : 
Friend  Sheridan,  when  will  you  know  your  own  good? 
Twas  to  teach  '^ou  in  modester  language  your  duty ; 
For,  were  you  «  dog,  I  could  not  be  rude  t'3re ; 
As  a  good  quiet  soul,  who  no  mischief  intends 
To  a  quarrelsome  fellow,  cries,  <'  let  us  be  friends^" 
.  But  we  like  Antaeus  and  Hercules  fight ; 
The  ofteaer  yon  fiiH,  the  oftener  you  write : 
And  I  Ml  use  you  as  be  did  that  overgrown  down, 
I  'U  first  take  yon  up,  a)id  then  take  you  down : 
And,  'tis  your  own  dase,  for  you  never  can  wound 
The  worst  dunce  in  your  school,  till  he  's  beav'd 
from  the  ground. 

I  beg  your  pardon  foV  using  my  Idt-hand,  but  I 
was  in  great  hast6,  ahd  the  oUier  hand  was  employ- 

>  Which  was  afterwards  the  subjiect  of  several 
poems  by  Dr.  Swift  and  others. 

>  The  humour  of  (Ms  poem  it  psn^y  lott,  by  the 
impossibility  of  printing  it  left-handed  as  it  was 
written* 


ed  at  the  teme  lime  in  Wtitifig  ioftffe  letters  of  bnsi- 
ness. — I  will  send  ^o\x  the  rest  when  I  have  leisure  : 
but  pray  come  tb  dinner  with  the  company  you 
met  here  last* 


A  MOTTO 
FOR  Ma.  JASON  AXSAlCb, 

WbOLLEk    DRAPER    IH    IJUBLIK ; 
WHOSB  SIGN  WAS  TfiE  OOLtf£M-PL£BCB< 

Jasou,  the  valiant  pri»ice  of  Greece, 
From  Colchos  brought  the  Golden  Fleece : 
We  comb  the  wool,  refine  the  stuff. 
For  modern  Jason,  that  's  enough. 
Oh  !  could  we  tame  yon  tcatcf{ful  Dragon  \ 
Old  Jason  would  have  less  to  brag  on. 


DR.  SHERIDAN,  17:8. 

Whatever  your  predecessors  taught  us, 

I  have  a  great  esteem  for  Plautus; 

And  think  your  boys  may  gather  thete-hende 

More  wit  and  humour  than  from  Terence. 

But  as  to  comic  Aristophanes, 

The  rogue  too  vicious  and  too  prophane  is. 

I  went  in  vain  to  look  for  Kupolis 

Down  in  the  Strand  2,  just  where  the  New  Pole  is  ; 

For  1  can  tell  you  one  thing,  that  I  can 

(You  will  not  find  it  in  the  Vatican). 

He  and  Cratinus  us'd,  as  Eloraoe  says. 

To  take  his  greatest  grandees  for  asses. 

f^oets,  in  those  days,  us*d  to  venture  high  j 

But  these  are  lost  full  many  a  century. 

Thus  you  may  see,  dear  friend,  ex  pede  hence. 

My  judgment  of  the  old  comedians. 

Proceed  to  tragics :  first,  Euripides 
(An  author  where  1  sometimes  dip  a-days) 
Is  rightly  censur'd  by  the  Stagirite, 
Who  says  his  numbers  do  not  fadge  aright. 
A  friend  of  mine  that  author  despise 
So  much,  he  swears  the  very  best  piece  is. 
For  aught  he  knows,  as  bad  as  Thespis's  ; 
And  that  a  woman,  in  these  tragedies. 
Commonly  speaking,  but  a  sad  jade  is.  > 
At  least,  i  'm  well  assurM,  that  no  folk  lays 
The  weight  on  him  they  do  on  Sophocles. 
But,  above  all,  I  prefer  -^chylus, 
WTwse  moving  touches,  when  they  please,  kill  us. 

And  now  I  find  my  Muse  but  ill  able. 
To  hold  out  longer  in  trissytlable. 
I  cliose  those  rhymes  out  for  their  difficulty; 
Will  you  return  as  hard  ones  if  1  call  t'ye  ? 

>  England. 

«The  foct  may  be  true;   but  the  rliyme  co't 
me  some  trouble.    Swift 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


406 


SWIFTS  PO&HS. 


Maicb    13,  1718-19.     • 


Stbila  this  day  is  thirty-four 
(We  sha*  n*t  dispute  a  year  or  more)  : 
However,  Stella,  be  not  troubled, 
Although  thy  size  aud  years  are  doubled^ 
Since  first  I  saw  thee  at  sixteen^ 
The  brightest  virgin  <m  the  green : 
So  little  is  thy  form  dechn*d; 
Made  up  so  largely  in  thy  nund. 

Oh,  would  it  please  the  gods  to  iplii 
Thy  beauty,  size,  and  jFears,  and  wit ! 
Ko  age  could  furnish  out  a  pair 
Of  nymphs  so  graceful,  wise,  and  £ur ; 
With  half  the  lustre  of  your  eyes. 
With  half  your  wit,  your  years,  wad  size. 
And  then,  before  it  grew  too  late. 
How  should  I  beg  of  gentle  Fate 
(That  either  nymph  might  have  her  iwain) 
To  split  my  worship  too  in  twain  1 


DR.  SUERIDjiN  TO  DR.  SWIFT. 

1719. 

DsAK  Deu,  sinoe  in  cruxtt  mod.  punt  you  and  I  deal. 
Pray  why  is  a  woman  a  sieve  and  a  riddle  ? 
TIs  a  thought  that  came  intomy  noddle  this  mormng, 
la  bed  as  I  lay,  sir,  a-tossing  and  tumhig. 
You  *11  find,"  if  you  read  but  a  few  of  your  histories. 
All  women  as  Eve,  all  women  are  mysteries. 
To  fi^  out  this  riddle  I  know  you  '11  be  eager. 
And  make  every  one  of  the  sex  a  Belph^;or. 
But  that  will  not  do,  for  I  mean  to  commend  them: 
I  swear  without  jest,  I  an  honour  intend  them. 
In  a  sieve,  sir,  their  antient  extraction  I  quite  tell, 
In  a  riddle  1  give  you  their  power  and  thehr  title. 
This  I  told  you  before:  do  you  know  what  I  mean,  sir? 
"  Not  I,  by  my  troth,  sir." — ^Then^read  it  again,  sir. 
The  reason  I  send  you  these  lines  of  rhjrmes  double. 
Is  purely  through  pity,  to  save  you  the  trouble 
Of  thinlung  two  hours  for  a  rhyme  as  you  did  last ; 
When  your  Pegasus  canter'd  it  triple,  and  rid  fost. 

As  for  my  little  nag,  which  I  keep  at  Parnassus, 
With  Phcebus's  leave,  to  run  with  his  asses. 
He  goes  slow  and  sure,  and  he  never  is  jaded. 
While  your  fiery  steed  is  whipp*d,  spurred,  ba§- 
tinaded. 


THE  DEAV'S  ANSfTER. 

In  reading  your  letter  alone  in  my  hackney. 
Your  danmable  riddle  my  poor  brains  did  rack  nigh. 
And  when  with  much  labour  the  matter  1  crackt> 
I  found  you  mistaken  in  matter  of  fi^ct.  ^ 

A  woman 's  no  sieve  (for  with  that  you  begm), 
Because  she  lets  out  more  than  e'er  she  takes  m. 
And  that  she's  a  riddle,  can  never  be  right, 
For  a  riddle  is  dark,  but  a  woman  is  light. 
But,  grant  her  a  sieve,  I  can  say  something  archer : 
Pray  what  is  a  man  ?  be  's  a  fine  Imen  searcher. 

Now  tell  me  a  thing  that  wants  interpretation. 
What  name  for  a  maiid,  was  the  first  man's  dam- 


If  your  woiihip  wfll  piMieto  ttpbin  mft  Ibii  fvte 
Isw^arfrom  henoefonrard  you  shall  be  myPhoBbaa  <" 

from  my  hackney-ooech,  SepL  IT, 
1719,  past  12  at  i 


STELLA'S  MIRTH-^AT.  HM. 

All  travellen  at  flnt  nicUne 

Where-e'er  they  see  the  foirett  sign; 

And,  if  they  find  the  chambers  neat. 

And  like  the  Uquor  and  the  meal. 

Will  call  again,  and  recommend 

Tlie  Angel-inn  to  every  friend. 

What  though  the  painting  grows  deeay^ 

The  house  will  never  lose  its  trade  ] 

Nay,  though  the  treaeherous  tapster  Hmoiv 

Hangs  a  new  Angel  two  doors  from  ns^ 

As  ftoe  as  daubers'  hands  can  make  it. 

In  hopes  that  strangers  may  mistake  ii^ 

We  think  it  both  a  shame  and  sin 

To  quit  the  true  old  Angel-inn. 

Now  this  is  Stella's  case  in  foc^ 
An  onrePn  ftce  a  little  crack'd 
(Gould  poets  or  could  paintert  fix 
How  angels  look  at  thirty  m) : 
This  drew  us  in  at  first  to  find 
In  such  a  form  an  angeVt  mind  ; 
And  every  virlue  now  sonplies 
The  fointhig  rays  of  Steua's  ejtM. 
See  at  her  levee  crowding  iwams^ 
Whom  StelUTfreely  entertains 
With  breeding,  humour,  wit,  and  sense; 
And  puts  them  but  to  small  expense  ^ 
Their  mind  so  plentifoUy  fills. 
And  makes  sudi  reasonable  l^lls. 
So  little  gets  for  what  she  gives. 
We  rttUy  wonder  bow  she  lives ! 
And,  had  her  stock  been  less,  no  doubt 
She  must  have  long  ago  run  out. 

Then  who  can  think  we  '11  quit  the  place. 
When  Doll  hangs  out  a  newer  fiice  > 
Or  stop  and  light  at  doe's  head. 
With  scraps  and  leavings  to  be  fed  ? 

Then,  Cloe,  still  go  on  to  prate 
Of,thirty-six  and  thirty-eight ; 
Pursue  your  trade  of  scandal-piddng. 
Your  hints  that  Stella  b  no  chicken  ; 
Your  innuendos,  when  you  tell  us. 
That  SteHa  loves  to  Ulk  with  fellows.* 
And  let  me  warn  you  to  believe 
A  truth,  for  which  your  soul  shoold  grie%-«  ( 
That,  shoHUd  yon  live  to  see  the  day 
When  Stella's  locks  must  all  be  grey. 
When  age  must  print  a  furrow'd  trace 
On  every  featore  of  her  feoe  ; 
Though  you,  and  all  your  senseless  tribe. 
Could  art,  or  time,  or  nature  bribe. 
To  make  you  kwk  like  beauty's  queen. 
And  hold  for  ever  at  fifteen ; 
No  bloom  of  youth  can  ever  Mind 
Tlie  cracks  and  wrinkles  of  your  mind  : 
All  men  of  sense  will  pass  your  door,    -  ^./ 
And  crowd  to  Stella's  at  founcore. 

*  Fir  Of  }i,  Man-trap. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


TO  STELLA. 


4W 


TO  STELLA. 


WBO  COLLBCTID  AVD  TltANSCBUU)  Bit 
rpciis.     VfiO. 

Am,  when  a  lofty  pile  is  nki'd. 
We  never  hemr  the  workmen  prais'd, 
Who  bring  the  lime,  or  place  the  stooet ; 
But  all  a&ure  Inlgo  Jones: 
So,  if  this  pile  of  scattered  rhymes 
Should  be  a.'ppnt^'d  in  after-times ; 
If  itjboth  pleases  and  endures. 
The  merit  and  the  praise  are  yoius. 

Thou,  Stella,  wert  no  longer  young, 
When  ftrst  for  thee  my  harp  was  strung. 
Without  one  word  of  Cnpid*s  darts, 
Of  kUlmg  eyes,  or  bleeding  hearts : 
With  firendship  and  esteem  possest, 
I  ne'er  admitted  love  a  guest. 

In  all  the  habitudes  of  life. 
The  fiiend,  the  mistress,  and  the  wife, 
'Variety  we  still  pursue, 
In  pleasure  seek  for  something  new ; 
Or  else,  comparing  with  the  rest. 
Take  comfort,  that  our  own  is  beit ; 
Hie  best  we  value  by  the  worst, 
(As  tradesmen  show  their  trash  at  first) : 
But  his  pursuits  were  at  an  end. 
Whom  Stdla  choosfes  for  ^friend, 

A  poet  starving  in  a  garret, 
Cntinmg  all  topics  like  a  parrot. 
Invokes  his  mistress  and  his  Mute, 
And  stajrs  at  home  for  want  of  shoes : 
Sboold  but  his  Muse  descending  drop 
A  slice  of  bread  and  mutton-chop ; 
Or  kindly,  when  his  credit 's  out. 
Surprise  him  with  a  jnnt  of  stout ; 
Or  patch  his  broken  stockiiur-soals. 
Or  send  him  in  a  peck  of  ccmUs  ; 
Exalted  in  his  mighty  mind. 
He  flies,  and  leaves  the  stars  behind  ; 
Counts  aUl  his  labours  amply  paid. 
Adores  her  for  the  timely  a.d. 

Or,  shoukl  a  porter  make  iuquirics 
For  Chloe,  Sylvia,  Phyllis,  Iris  j 
Be  told  the  lodging,  lane,  ami  sign. 
The  bowers  that  hold  those  uymphs  divine ; 
Fair  Q>k>e  would  perhaps  be  found 
With  footmen  tippfmg  under  ground ; 
The  channing  Sylvia  beating  flax, 
Her  shoulders  mark  d  with  bloody  tnicks ; 
Bright  Phyllis  mending  ragged  smocks  -, 
And  radiant  Iris  in  the  pox. 
These  are  the  goddesses  enrol Vd 
In  Curirs  collection,  new  and  old, 
Whose  scoundrel  fathers  would  not  know  *em. 
If  they  should  meet  them  in  a  poem. 

True  poets  can  depress  and  raise. 
Are  lords  of  Infemy  and  praise ; 
They  are  not  scurrilous  in  satire. 
Nor  will  in  panegyric  flatter. 
Unjustly  poets  we  asperse ; 
Troth  shmes  the  brighter  clad  in  verse ; 
And  all  the  fictions  they  puisne. 
Do  but  msmnate  what  is  true. 

Now,  should  my  praises  owe  their  tmth 
To  beautjTy  dress,  or  paint,  or  youth. 
What  Stoics  call  witioul  our  power. 
Tbe^  00^14  not  be  iipv'd  VI  iMur : 


Twere  grafting  on  an  anmial  t^ock. 
That  must  our  expectation  mock, 
And,  making  one  luxuriant  shoot. 
Die  the  next  year  for  want  of  root : 
Befofe  I  could  my  verses  bring. 
Perhaps  yon  're  quite  another  thing. 

So  Mssrius,  when  he  drain'd  his  skull 
To  celebrate  some  suburb  trull. 
His  similies  in  order  set. 
And  every  crambo  he  could  get, 
Had  gone  through  all  the  cbmmon-placei 
Worn  oat  by  wits,  who  riiyme  on  ftices  s  - 
Before  he  could  his  poem  close. 
The  lovely  nymph  bad  lost  her  nose. 

'Your  virtnes  safely  I  commend  ; 
Hiey  on  no  accidents  depend : 
I^  maUoe  look  with  all  her  eyes. 
She  dares  not  say  the  poet  lyek 

Stella,  when  you  these  lines  transoib^ 
Lest  you  should  ta^e  them  for  a  bribe, 
Resolved  to  mortify  your  pride, 
I  '11  her«  expose  your  weaker  side. 

Your  tfmU  kindle  to  a  flame, 
Mov'd  with  the  lightest  touch  of  blame  ; 
And,  when  a  friend  in  kindness  tries 
To  show  you  where  joar  erfour  lies. 
Conviction  does  bat  more  incense ; 
Perverseness  is  your  whole  defence; 
Truth,  judgment,  wit,  give  place  to  ipightv 
Regaidless  both  of  wrong  and  ri^^  ; 
Your  virtues  all  8uq;>ended  wait 
Till  time  hath  open'd  reason's  gate  ; 
And,  what  is  worse,  your  passion  bcnda 
Its  force  against  your  nearest  friends. 
Which  manners,  decency,  and  pride. 
Have  taught  you  from  the  world  to  hide : 
In  vam  ;  for,  see,  your  friend  hath  brought 
To  public  lig^t  your  only  feult ; 
And  yet  a  fenit  we  often  find 
Mix'd  in  a  noble  generous  mmd; 
And  may  compare  to  .£tna's  fire. 
Which,  though  with  trembling,  all  admire; 
The  heat,  that  makes  the  summit  glow, 
Enrichmg  all  the  vale9  below. 
Those  who  in  wdirmer  climes  complain 
From  Phoebus'  rays  they  suffiBr.pain, 
M  ust  own  that  pain  is  largely  paid 
By  .8:enerous  wines  beneath  a  shade. 

Yet,  when  I  find  your  passions  rise. 
And  angpr  sparkling  in  your  eyes, 
1  grieve  those  spirits  should  be  speat. 
Fur  nobler  ends  by  nature  meanL 
One  passion  with  a  difierent  turn 
Makes  wit  inflame,  or  anger  burn : 
So  the  Sun*s  heat  with  different  poweia 
Ripens  the  grape,  tbe  liquors  sours^ 
Thus  AjaXf  when  with  rage  pospest 
By  Pallas  breath'd  into  his  brsast, 
Hu  valour  would  no  more  employ. 
Which  might  akme  have  conquerM  Troy^ 
But,  blinded  by  resentment,  seeks 
For  vengeance  on  his  friends  tbe  Gredn» 

You  think  this  turbulence  of  blood 
From  stagnating  preserves  the  flood. 
Which  thus  fermenting  by  degrees 
Exalts  the  sp  rits,  sinks  the  lees. 

SCella,  for  once  you  reason  wrong  ; 
For,  shoiild  this  ferment  last  too  long^ 


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408 


SWIFTS  POPfS. 


By  time  nibeidii^,  jou  m^y  fiod 
Nothing  but  acid  1e^  behind ; 
From  passion  you  may  then  be  freed, 
When  peevishness  and  spleen  succeed. 

Say,  Stella  when  you  copy  next. 
Will  you  keep  strictly  to  the  text  ? 
Dare  you  let  tlicse  reproaches  stand. 
And  to  your  failing  set  your  h»nd  ? 
Or,  if  these  lines  your  anger  fire, 
Shall  they  in  baser  flames  expire  ? 
Whene'er  they  bum,  if  burn  they  must* 
They  *11  prove  my  accusation  just. 


TO  STEIJ^A 

VlftlTlNC   HI    IN   ^Y   SICKMEtf,      (790  K 

Pallas,  obfiervins  StelU^s  wit 
Was  more  than  w  her  sex  was  fit. 
And  that  her  beauty,  soon  or  lat^. 
Might  breed  confusion  in  the  state. 
In  high  concern  for  human-kind, 
Tix'd  honour  in  her  infant  nund. 

But  (not  in  wrangKngs  to  enga^ 
With  such  a  stupid  vicious  age) 
If  honour  I  would  here  define, 
It  answers  ^ith  in  things  divtne. 
As  natural  Tiid  the  body  wariito, 
And,  scholars  teach,  the  soul  ii^orms  { 
So  honour  animates  the  nfhQle, 
And  is  the  spirit  of  the  soul 

Those  numerous  virtues  which  the  triba 
Of  tedious  moralists  describe, 
And  by  such  various  titles  call, 
True  honour  compfehends  them  all. 
Let  melauf^holy  rule  supreme, 
Cboler  preside,  or  blood,  pr  phlegm^ 
It  makes  no  difference  in  the  case, 
Nor  IS  complexion  honour's  place. 

But,  lest  we  should  for  honour  take 
1'he  drupken  quarrels  of  a  rake ; 
Or  think  it  seat^  in  a  scar. 
Or  on  a  proud  triamphal  car, 
^>r  in  the  payment  of  a  debt 
AVe  lose  with  s^aiyers  at  picquet ; 
Or  when  a  whore  ra  her  vocatbn 
Keeps  punctual  to  an  assignation  ; 
Or  that  on  which  his  lordship  swears, 
When  x-ulgar  knaveq  would  lose  their  ears ; 
Let  Stella's  fair  example  preach 
A  lesson  she  alone  can  teach. 

In  points  of  honour  to  be  try'd, 
All  passions  must  be  laid  aside ;    • 
Ask  no  advice,  but  think  alone ; 
Suppose  the  question  not  your  own. 
How  shall  I  act  ?  is  not  the  case ; 
But  how  would  Brutus  in  my  place  ? 
In  such  a  case  would  Cato  bleed  ? 
And  how  would  Socrates  proceed  ? 

Drive  all  objections  from  |rour  mind^ 
Else  you  reUpse  to  human-kind  : 
Ambition,  avarice,  and  lust. 
And  factious  rage,  and  breach  of  trust, 
And  flattery  tipt  with  nauseous  fleer. 
And  guilty  shame,  and  servile  fear, 

*  See  the  verses  on  he^  Birt^-day,  1723-4. 


Envy,  and  cruel^,  ai^d  piidf  > 
Will  in  your  tainted  heart  preside. 

Heroes  and  henanes  of  pk) 
By  honour  only  wpre  enroU'd 
An)0|ig  their  brethren  in  the  skies, 
To  which  (though  late)  diall  Stella  n^. 
Ten  thousand  oaths  upon  rocord 
Are  not  so  sacred  as  her  word  : 
The  world  shall  in  its  atoms  end. 
Ere  Stella  can  deodve  a  frieijd. 
By  honour  seated  in  her  breast 
She  still  determines  what  is  best : 
What  indignation  in  bf  r  mind 
Against  inslavers  of  mapkind  ! 
Base  kings,  and  minis^rs  of  state 
Eternal  Ejects  of  her  hate  ! 

She  thinks  that  Nature  ne'er  de9gn*4 
Courage  to  man  alone  confin'd. 
Can  cowardice  her  sex  adorn. 
Which  most  exposes  ours  to  scpm  ? 
She  wonders  where  the  charm  appeal 
In  FlorimePs  affected  fears ; 
For  Stella  never  I^^rn'd  the  art  ' 

At  proper  times  to  scream  and  star^ 
Nor  calls  up  all  the  house  at  night. 
And  swears  she  saw  a  thing  in  white. 
Dull  never  flies  to  cut  her  lace. 
Or  throw  colid  water  in  her  fecc, 
Because  she  heard  a  sudden  dnmi| 
Or  found  an  earwig  in  a  plum. 

Her  hearers  are  amaz'd  from  whence 
Proceeds  that  fund  of  wit  and  sense ; 
\^l)ich,  though  her  modesty  would  shrood^ 
Breaks  like  the  Sun  behind  a  cloud ; 
While  gracefhkiess  its  art  conceals. 
And  yet  through  every  motion  steals. 

Say,  Stella,  was  Prometheus  blind. 
And,  fbrming  you,  mistook  your  kind  I 
No ;  'twas  for  you  alone  he  stde 
The  fire  tl^t  fcnms  a  manly  soul ; 
Then,  to  complete  it  every  way. 
He  moul4ed  it  with  female  clay : 
To  that  ym  owe  the  nobler  flame. 
To  this  tae  beauty  of  your  frame. 

How  would  ingratitude  delight. 
And  how  woidd  censure  glut  her  spight. 
If  I  should  Stella's  kindness  hide 
In  silence,  or  forget  with  pride  ! 
When  pn  my  sickly  couch  I  lay. 
Impatient  both  of  night  and  day. 
Lamenting  in  unmanly  strains, 
Call'd  every  power  to  ease  my  pains  ; 
Then  Stella  ran  to  my  relief 
With  cheerful  fince  and  inward  grief; 
And,  though  by  Heaven's  severe  decree 
She  suffers  hourly  more  than  me. 
No  cruel  master  could  require, 
Frpm  slaves  employ'd  for  daily  hire. 
What  Stella,  by  her  firiendship  warm'dj, 
With  vigour  and  delight  perfbrm'd : 
My  sinking  spirits  now  supplies 
With  cordials  ui  her  hands  and  eyes  j^ 
Now  with  a  soft  and  silent  tread 
Unheard  she  nfioves  about  my  bed. 
I  see  her  taste  each  nauseous  diaught  i 
And  so  obligingly  ^m  caught, 
I  bless  the  band  from  whence  they  i^tjgfe. 
Nor  dare  distort  my  fi|ce  for  ^ame. 


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ELEGY. . .  EPITAPH,  i .  VERSES  ON  A  WINDOW. 


«V 


Best  pstterq  of  tnue  friends  !  beware : 
You  pay  too  dearlv  for  your  care, 
if,  while  your  teDdemess  secures 
My  life,  it  must  eixlanger  vours ; 
For  such  a  fool  was  never  found. 
Who  puH'd  a  palace  to  the  ground, 
Only  to  have  the  ruins  made 
MateriaU  for  an  house  decayed. 


yiN  ELEGY 


jov  Tvc  DBara  or  dsmak,  tbi  utoica; 

WHO  PIBD  THE  ^TH  OP  iVLT,  17^. 

Mmow  all  wun  hy  these  preunts.  Death  the  taoMr 
By  wortguge  hath  aecur'd  the  corpte  of  Demar  s 
Nor  can /our  hundred  thousand  sterling  pound 
Redeem  him  from  hia  prison'under  ground. 
^M  htin  might  well,  of  all  his  wealth  poHOSsM, 
Bestow,  to  buiy  him,  one  iron  ohest. 
Plutus,  the  god  of  wealth,  will  joy  to  know 
liis  fiaiithful  stewavd  in  the  shades  below. 
He  walk'd  the  streets,  and  wore  a  threadbare  eloak ; 
He  din'd  and  supp*d  at  charge  of  other  folk : 
And  by  his  looks,  had  he  heki  out  his  paUns, 
He  might  be  thought  an  object  fit  for  alms. 
So,  to  the  poor  if  he  refos'd  his  pelf. 
He  us'd  them  full  as  kindly  as  himself. 

Where'er  he  went,  he  never  saw  his  betters  ; 
Lmds^  knights,  and  squires^  were  all  his  humble 
And  under  hand  and  seal  the  Irish  nation-  [debtors; 
Ware  fofro'd  to  own  to  him  their  obligation. 

He  that  oould  once  have  half  a  kingdom  bought. 
In  half  a  minute  is  isot  worth  a  groat 
|iis  coffers  from  the  coffin  couki  not  save,, 
Kor  all  bis  int$rest  keep  him  from  the  grave. 
A  golden  monument  woukl  not  be  right, 
JBecause  we  wish  the  earth  upon  him  light. 

Oh  London  tavern  > !  thou  hast  lost  a  friend. 
Though  in  thy  walls  he  ne'er  did  farthing  spend : 
He  touched  the  pence,  when  others  touched  the  pot ; 
Tlie  naiid  that  sign'd  the  mortgage  oaid  the^hot. 

OM  as  he  w;*s,  no  vulgar  known  disease 
On  him  could  ever  boast  a  power  to  seize ; 
**  s  But,  as  he  weigh  d  his  gold,  grim  Death  in  spigbt 
pist-in  his  dart,  which  made  three  moidores  light; 
And,  as  he  saw  his  darling  money  fiul. 
Blew  his  last  breath,  to  sink  the  lightci'  scale." 
|Ie  who  so*iong  was  current,  'twould  be  strange 
If  he  should  now  be  cry^d  down  since  his  change. 

The  sexton  shall  green  sods  on  thee  bestow^ 
^las,  the  sexton  is  thy  bank^  now ! 
A  d^mal  banker  must  that  banker  be. 
Who  gives  no  bills  but  of  mortality. 


EPITjiPii  ON  A  MISER. 

Btiuutq  thia  verdant  hillock  lies 
i)eniar  the  vD<aUh^  aud  the  vase. 
His  heifSf  tJbat  he  might  safely  rest» 
Have  put  his  carcase  in  z.' chesty 
The  veqr  chsiU  m  i^uch*  they  aay» 
|Iis  oUki  ulft  his  wonfiy^  lay* 

1  A  tavern  ip  DttbUo*  whei^  Demarke|>t  hi9o^to» 
H  V^if^  tor  Uoes  Kore  writ^by  Stdia, 


And,  if  his  kms  coatinue  kind 
To  that  dear  ^  he  left  bebaod, 
J  dare  believe,  that  four  in  fiv« 
Will  think  his  better  Aa^/*  alive. 


TO  MBS.  HOUGHTON  OF  BORMOUNT^ 
UPON  PRAisiico  aaa  wjsbaho  to  dk.  swift. 

Tou  always  are  making  a  god  of  ymar  spouse ; 
But  this  neither  reason  nor  censdence  allows : 
Perhaps  you  will  say,  *tis  in  gratitisAe  due. 
And  you  adore  him,  because  he  adores  you. 
Your  anguroent's  weak,  aad  so  you  will  fiad ; 
For  you,  by  this  rule,  must  adore  all  maokhd* 


VERSES  WRITTEN  ON  A  WINDOW. 

AT  THE  DEANEY  HOUSE,  ST.  PATBXCE'Sfe 

Abb  the  guests  of  this  house  stiU  doom'd  to  be 
cheated  ?  [be  treated. 

Sure,  the  Fates  have  decreed  they  by  halves  should 
In  the  days  of  good  John  ^  if  you  came  here  to  dine. 
You  had  choice  of  good  meat,  but  no  choice  of  good 
In  Jonathan's  reign,  if  you  come  here  to  eat,  [wine. 
You  have  choice  of  good  wine,  but  no  choice  of  good 

meat 
Oh,  Jove !  then  how  fully  mi^t  all  sides  be  blest, 
Would'st  thou  but  agree  to  this  humble  request ! 
Put  both  deans  in  one ;  or,  if  that's  too  much  trouble^ 
Instead  of  the  deans,  make  the  deaory  double. 


ON  ANOTHER  WINDOWK 

A  BAED,  on  whom  Phoebus  his  spirit  bestow'd» 
Resolving  t'  acknowledge  the  bounty  he  o^'d. 
Found  out  a  new  method  at  once  of  confessiug, 
And  making  the  most  of  so  mighty  a  blessing : 
To  the  god  he'd  be  grateful ;  but  mortals  he'd  chouse^ 
By  making  his  patron  preside  in  his  house ; 
And  wisely  foresaw  this  advantage  firom  thence. 
That  the  god  would   in  honour  bear    most   of 

th'  expense : 
So  the  bard  he  finds  drink,and  leaves  Phoebus  to  treaA 
With  the  thoughts  he  inspires,  regardless  of  meat. 
Hence  they  that  come  hither  expecting  to  dine, 
Are  always  fobb'd  off  with  sheer  wit  ai^  sheer  wine; 


APOLLO  TO  THE  DEAN, 

1720. 

Right  txusty,  and  so  forth — ^we  let  you  to  know 
We  are  very  ill  us'd  by  you  mortals  below. 
For^  firsti  1  have  often  by  chemists  been  told. 
Though  1  k^iow  nothing  on  't,  it  is  I  that  make  goH^ 
Which  when  you  have  got,  you  so  carefully  hide  it^ 
That,  since  1  was  bom,  I  hardly  have  spy'd  it. 
Then  it  must  be  allow'd,  that,  whenever  I  shine, 
I  forward  the  grass,  and  I  ripen  the  vine; 

i  Dean  Sterne  was  distinguished  for  his  ho^itality^< 
*  3y  Dr.  Delaay,  i«  cupjonctloQ  with  Stdla. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


AW 


SWIFTS  P(«BIS. 


To  me  the  good  felhm  aj^ly  lor  relief 

Without  whom  they  could  get  neither  cioivliior  ht^: 

Yet  their  wine  and  their  victuals  thete  curauidgeoo 

lubbaids 
Lock  up  from  my  sight  in  cellars  and  cupboards. 
That  I  have  an  ill  eye,  they  wickedly  think. 
And  taint  all  their  meat,  and  sour  all  their  drink. 
But,  thirdly  and  lastly,  it  must  be  allowed, 
I  alone  can  inspire  the  poetical  crowd: 
This  is  gratefully  own'd  by  each  boy  in  the  ooU^^ 
Whom  if  I  inspire,  it  is  not  to  my  knowledge. 
Thia  every  pr^ender  to  ih3rme  will  admit. 
Without  troubling  his  head  about  judgment  or  wit. 
These  gentlenen  use  me  with  kindness  and  fireedom  ; 
Andasfortheirworks,whenI  please  I  may  read 'em: 
They  lie  open  on  puipose  on  counters  and  stalls ; 
^nd  the  titles  1  view,  when  I  shine  on  the  walls. 
But  a  comrade  of  yours,  that  tiattor  Delany, 
Whom  I  tor  your  sake  love  better  than  any. 
And,  of  Diy  mere  wtoium  and  sfecial  good  graee^ 
Intended  in  time  to  succeed  m  your  plaoe. 
On  Tuesday  the  tenth  seditiously  came 
With  a  certam  &lse  traitress,  one  8t4hi  by  name. 
To  the  deanry  bouse,  and  on  the  north  glass. 
Where  lor  fear  of  the  odd  I  never  can  pass. 
Then  and  there,  vi  i(  armit,  with  a  certain  utensil. 
Of  value  five  shillhigs,  in  English  a  pencil, 
tJid  maliciously,  fislsely,  and  traitorously  write. 
While  Stella  aforesaid  stood  by  with  a  light 
My  sister  had  lately  deposed  upon  oath. 
That  she  stopi  in  her  course  to  lool^  at  them  both: 
That  Stella  was  helping,  abettiuR,  and  aiding; 
And  still,  as  he  writ,  stood  nniling  and  reading: 
That  her  eyes  were  as  bright  as  myself  at  noon-day. 
But  her  graceful  black  locks  were  all  mingled  with 
And  by  Uie  description  I  certainly  know,      [grey  ; 
*Tis  the  nymph  that  I  courted  some  ten  years  ago ; 
Whom  when  I  with  the  best  of  my  talents  endued 
On  her  promise  of  yiekUiig,  she  acted  the  prude : 
That  some  verses  were  writ  with  felonious  intent. 
Direct  to  the  norik^  where  I  never  yet  went : 
That  the  letters  appeared  reversM  through  the  pane. 
But  in  Stella's  bright  eyes  they  were  plac'd  right 
Wherein  she  distinctly  could  read  *very  lioe,  [again : 
And  presently  guess  that  the  fancy  was  mine. 
j5he  can  swear  to  the  person  whom  oil  she  has  seen 
At  night  between  Cavtfn  Street  and  College  Green. 
Now  you  see  why  his  verses  so  seldom  are  shown ; 
The  reason  is  plain,  th^  aye  none  of  his  own ; 
And  observe  while  you  live,  that  no  man  is  ^hy 
To  discover  the  goods  he  came  honestly  by. 
if  I  light  on  a  thoii^^ht,  he  will  certainly  steal  it, 
/nd,  when  he  has  got  it,  finds  WBjt  to  conceal  it : 
Of  all  the  fine  things  be  keeps  in  the  dark,    ' 
There's  scarce  one  in  ten  but  what  has  my  maik  ; 
And  let  them  be  seen  by  the  world  if  he  diare, 
I  >11  make  it  appear  thait  they  're  all  stolen  ware. 
But  as  for  the  poem  he  writ  on  your  sash, 
I  thmk  I  have  now  got  him  under  my  lash; 
My  sister  transcribM  it  last  night  to  hi%  sorrow. 
And  the  public  shall  see 't,  if  1  bve  till  tomorrow. 
Through  the  zodiac  around,  it  shall  quickly  be  spread 
In  all  parts  of  the  globe  where  your  language  is  read. 
He  knows  very  well,  I  ne'er  gave  a  refiisal, 
WHen  he  ask'd  fbr  my  aid  in  the  foims  tliat  are 
But  the  secret  is  this ;  I  did  lately  intend   [usual : 
To  write  a  few  verses  on  yoa,  as  my  fnend : 
i  studied  a  fortnight,  before  I  could  find. 
At  iTode  m  my  cbifriot^a  tb6ught  to  m^  mind. 


Aliid«esolv'd  the  Mit  wiBtor  (for  Oiat  if  aiy  tiac. 
When  the  days  are  at  shortest)  to  get  it  in  iliynka; 
Till  then  it  was  lock'd  in  my  box  at  Pamassot ; 
When  that  subtle  oompaninn,  in  hopes  to iuipMS  v^ 
Conveys  out  my  pi^ier  of  hints  by  a  trick, 
(For  I  thuik  mmy  CQoscienoe  he  deals  wittiOli  NiA) 
And,  firom  my  own  stock  provided  witti  topics^ 
He  gets  to  a  window  beycmd  both  the  tropics  f 
There  out  of  my  si^  just  against  the  aerU  aoBcv 
Writesdownmyconceit8,andthencaHstfaemkiiO«B; 
And  yon,  like  a  booby,  tiie  bubble  can  iwallear  s 
No#  who  hot  JDdany  can  write  like  ApoUo  ? 
High  trsaioo  by  statote  I  yet  beie  youtii^iact^ 
He  only  stole  himts,  but  the  verse  is  oomct; 
Tbou^  the  thought  be  Apollo's,  His  finely  exprevVU* 
So  a  thief  steals  my  hone  and  has  him  wdl  dre»1d. 
Now,  whereas  the  sad  criminal  aaems  past  i 

ance, 
^e  Phoebus  thhik  fit  to  proceed  to  hb  te 
Since  Delany  has  dar'd,  like  Prometliens,  his  i 
Toclanbtoourregioii,aadtbeneetostMl  fire; 
We  order  a  vulture,  in  shape  of  tiie  ipleeB, 
To  prey  oo  lus  liver,  but  not  to  be  seen. 
And  we  order  our  subjects  ef  every  degree 
To  believe  all  his  veites  were  written  b^  ne ; 
And,  under  the  pam  of  our  highest  displeasure. 
To  call  nothing  his  but  the  ihyme  and  the  nu—uw 
And  lastly,  for  Stella,  just  out  of  her  prime, 
I  hn  too  much  revenged  already  by  tima 
In  return  to  her  sccMrn,  I  send  her  diseases. 
But  will  now  be  her  friend  whenever  she  pUaw  s 
And  the  gifts  I  best0w>d  her  wiU  find  her  a  fofvcr. 
Though  she  livse  to  be  grey  as  a  badger  all  ov«k. 


KEWSFROii  PARNASSUS, 

BT  Dt.  DBLAirr. 

Paeiussvs,  FebmaiT  the  twenty-seventh. 
The  poets  assembled  here  on  the  eleventh, 
Conven'd  by  Apollo,  who  gave  them  to  know. 
He  'd  have  a  vicegerent  in  his  empire  below  ; 
But  dedar'd  that  no  bardshould  this  honour  inherit. 
Till  the  rest  had  agreed  he  surpass'd  them  in  menc 
Now  this,  you  'II  idlow;  was  a  difficult  case. 
For  each  bard  believ'd  he  'd  a  right  to  the  place  ; 
So  finding  th*  assembly  grow  warm  m  debate. 
He  put  theoLin  mind  of  his  Phaeton's  fote : 
Twas  urg'd  to  no  purpose ;  disputes  hi^lier  noe. 
Scarce  Phoebus  himself  could  their  quarrels  com- 
TUl  at  length  he  determm'd  that  every  bard  [poae; 
Should  (each  in  his  turn)  be  patiently  heard. 

First,  one  who  believ'd  he  excelFd  in  translation, 
Founds  his  claim  on  the  do(^rine  of  map's  transmi- 
gration: 
<'  Since  the  soul  of  great  Milton  was  given  tome, 
I  hope  the  convention  will  quiddy  agree." 
Agree  ("qpoth  Apollo:  «<  from  whenpe  is  this  fool? 
Is  he  just  come  from  reading  Pythagoras  at  school) 
Be  gone  I  sir,  you  've  gotyour  subscriptions  in  tiose, 
And  giveq  m  return  neither  reason  nor  rhyme." 
To  t^  neit,  wfafhe  god,  '*  Though  now  I  woo*t 

chuse  you, 
1 11  tell  you  the  reason  for  which  I  fefbse  yon : 
Love's  goddess  has  oft  to  her  parents  oomplainM 
Of  my  fovouring  a  bard  who  her  empire  disdain'd; 
That,  at  my  histigation,  a  poem  yon  writ,       [wit; 
Which  ta  beauty  an^  youth  preferr'd  judgment  andl 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  RUN  UPON  THE  BANKERS. 


lill 


Yhtk  tD  miktt  fMft-karMt,  I  gave  the  fint  voioe, 
Inqnriog  the  firitoos  t'  approve  ef  my  choioe. 
Jove  seat  her  to  me,  her  poirer  to  try ; 
The  godde«  of  beairty  what  god  can  deny  ? 
She  fnbidfl  your  preferment  j  I  grant  her  desire. 
Appeaae  the  fiur  goddeii;    you  then  may  riie 
higher."  [ing, 

^"Hie  next  that  appeared  had  good  hopes  of  SQOoeed- 
Var  he  meritad  much  for  his  wit  and  hisbreedmg. 
Tvaa  wise  in  the  Britooi  no  favour  to.  show  him, 
fie  else  might  expect  they  should  pay  what  they 

owe  him. 
And  tfaerelbre  they  prodcDkly  chose  to  discaid 
The  patriot,  #hose  merits  they  would  not  reward. 
The  god,  with  asmile,  bad  his  fiivourite  advance, 
**  Yott  were  sent  by  Astnsa  her  envoy  to  Fhmoe : 
Yon  bent  your  ambition  to  rise  in  the  state; 
I  refuse  you  because  you  could  tkxsop  to  be  great." 

Then  a  band  who  had  been  a  successful  traasla- 
^'  The  convention  allows  me  a  versificator."  [tor. 
Says  Apollo,  **  You  mention  the  least  ,of  your 

merit; 
By  your  works  it  appears  you  have  much  of  my  wpinL 
I  esteem  you  so  wdl,  that,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
Tlie  greatest  objection  against  you  's  your  3routh : 
Then  be  not  ooocemM  you  are  now  lud  asile; 
IT  yon  live,  you  shall  certainly  one  day  preside." 

Another,  low  bendmg,  Apollo  thus  greets, 
^  Twas  I  taught  your  sutigects  to  walk  through  the 
streets."  [lore : 

<*  You  taught  them  to  wlk  !  why,  they  knew  it  be- 
Sot  give  me  the  bardthot  can  teach  them  to  toar. 
Whmver  he  claims,  'tis  his  right,  I  Ml  confess. 
Who  lately  attempted  my  style  with  success ; 
*  Who  writes  like  i^poUo  has  most  of  his  sphit. 
And  therefore  tis  just  I  distinguish  bis  merit ; 
Who  makes  it  appear,  by  all  be  has  writ, 
His  judgment  alone  can  set  bounds  to  his  wit; 
like  Viigil  correct,  with  his  own  native  ease, 
Bnt  excels  evep  VirgU  in  elegant  praise ; 
Who  admires  the  ancients,  and  knows  'tis  their  due. 
Yet  writes  in  a  manner  entirely  new ; 
^Tboogh  n(N|S  with  more  ease  their  depths  can  explore, 
Yet  whatever  he  wants  he  takes  from  my  store : 
Thon^  I  'm  fond  of  bis  virtues,  his  pride  I  can  see. 
In  scorning  to  borrow  from  any  but  me ; 
It  is  owing  to  this,  that,  like  Cynthia,  bis  lays 
Enlighten  the  woiid  by  reflecting  my  ra3rs."  [drift : 

This  said,  the  whole  audience  soon  found  out  his 
The  convention  was  sununon'd  in  fisvour  of  Swift. 


THE  RUN  UPON  THE  RdNKEHS.  1730. 

Thi  bold  encroaehers  oo  the  deep 

Gain  by  degrees  huge  tracts  of  land. 
Till  Neptune,  with  one  general  sweep, 

Toms  all  again  to  bvren  strand. 
The  multitude's  capricious  praidu 

Are  said  to  represent  the  seas  ; 
Which,  breaking  fianker*  and  the  banks, 

Besnme  their  own  whene'er  they  please* 

Mniey;  the  life-blood  of  the.nation, 
Comq[}ts  and  stagnates  inthe  veins» 

Unless  a  proper  ctrcaZsliofi 
U*  moUoo  and  ita  heat  maintains 


Because  tia  kfdhi  not  toptty, 

2nak0rt  and  aldermen  in  state 
Ukepeer*  have  leveet  every  day 

Of^duns  attending  at  th^  gate. 

We  want  our  money  on  the  nail  ; 

The  banker  's  rum'd  if  he  pajrs  x 
They  seem  to  act  an  ancient  tale  ; 

Tlie  birds  are  met  to  strip  the  jeyj; 
**  Riches,"  the  wisest.monarch  sings, 

**  Make  pmions  for  themselves  to  fly:** 
They  fly  like  bats  on  parchment  wings. 

And  geese  their  stiver  plumes  supply. 
No  money  left  for  squandering  heirs ! 

Bills  turn  the  lenders  hito  debtors : 
The  wish  of  Nero  now  is  theirs, 

'<  That  they  had  never  known  their  lettefi.1* 
Conceive  the  works  of  midnight  hags. 

Tormenting  fools  behind  their  backs  x 
Thus  bankers  o'er  their  biUft  and  bags 

Sit  squeezing  tmogef  0/ vox. - 
Conceive  the  whole  enchantment  broke ; 

The  witehes  left  in  open  an*. 
With  power  no  more  than  other  folk, 

Expos'd  with  all  their  magic  ware. 
So  powerful  are  a  banker's  bills. 

Where  creditors  demand  their  due; 
They  break  up  counters,  doors,  and  tills. 

And  leave  the  empty  chests  in  view. 

Thus  when  an  earthquake  lets  in  light 

Upon  the  god  of  goM  axMl  ^«tf, 
Unable  to  endure  the  sight. 

He  hides  within  his  darkest  cell* 
As  when  a  conjurer  takes  a  lease 

From  Satan  for  a  term  of  years. 
The  tenant 's  in  a  dismal  case. 

Whene'er  the  bloody  bond  appears. 
A  baited  banker  thus  desponds, 

Froni  his  own  hand  foresees  his  fall ; 
They  have  bis  soul,  who  have  his  bonds  j 

*Tia  like  the  writing  on  the  walL 
How  will  the  caitiff  wretoh  be  scar'd. 

When  first  he  finds  himself  awake 
At  the  last  trumpet  unprepar'd. 

And  all  his  grand  account  to  make ! 
For  in  that  universal  call 

Few  bankers  will  to  Heaven  be  mounters; 
They  Ml  cry,  **  Yeshops,  upou  us  fall ! 

Cbnoeal  and  cover  us,  ye  counters !" 
When  other  hands  the  scales  shall  hold. 

And  they  in  men  and  angels*  ^ight 
Produced  with  all  their  bills  and  gold, 

**  V^'eigh'd  in  the  balance,  and  found  lig^** 


DESCRIPTION  OF  AN  IRISH  FEAST. 

TaAMSLATsn  aiMosT  LrrsKALur  out  ot  thb  oai^ 

GIMAL  IftlSB.      1720. 

Oaouax's  noble  fere  will  ne'er  be  forgot. 

By  those  who  were  there,  or  those  who  were  not 

His  revels  to  keep,  we  sup  and  we  dine 

On  seven  scoce  sheep,  fipt  bulfocks,  and  swine. 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


41tf 


«WIFTS  rOEMS. 


Usquebaugh  to  ear  feaii  ia  ptSk  mm  bnmf^  lap. 
An  huDdred  at  leait,  mttAcmmdAv  >  «Hir  cap. 
O  there  is  the  tport !  me  nae  wHli  the41glit 
In  disorderly  sort  from  snorii^  «U  nigbt 

0  how  was  I  trick'd :  my  pipe  it  was  broke. 
My  pocket  was  picked,  I  lost  my  new  cloak. 

1  'm  rifled,  quoth  Nell,  of  mauUe  and  kercber  ^  : 
Why  then  fiire  them  weh,  the  de*el  take  the  seaitiber. 
Come,  harper  strike  up;  but,  first,  by  your  favour, 
^7f  P^^  us  a  cup :  ah  >  this  lias  some  savour. 
Orouric*s  jolly  bo3r8  ne*cr  drcaort  of  the  matter. 
Till,  rousM  by  the  noise  and  musical  c!attnr. 
They  bounce  from  their  Tiost,  no  kmger  will  tarry. 
They  rise  ready  ^dreA,  without  one  •vt-maty. 
They  dance  in  a  floniid,  cntUD^  capen  aad  ramping ; 
A  mercy  the  ground  did  not  bmvtwith  tbetr  stamp- 
The  fleer  itati  wet  witb  leapaaadwitb  jan^a,  fmff. 
While  the  water  mad  sweat  fpUsh-splath  in  their 

pumps. 
Bless  you  late  and  early,  Lao^inO'Eaaginl 
By  my  hand  ^  you  da,iioe  tarely,  Margery  Orinagin. 
Bring  straw  for  oar  bed,  shake  it  down  to  the  feet. 
Then  over  «s  spread  the  winnowing  sheet : 
To  show  I  don't  flinch,  60  the  bowl  up  again; 
Then  give  us  a  pmch  of  your  sneezing,  a  yean  * . 
Good  Lord  !  what  a  nght,  after  all  their  good  cheer. 
For  people  to  fight  m  the  midst  of  their  beer  ! 
They  rise  from  their  feast,  and  hot  are  their  brains, 
A  cubit  at  least  the  totigth  ef  their  skeans  K 
What  stabs  and  what  cats,  what  clattering  of  sticks ; 
What  strokes  ea  the  guts,  what  bastings  omI  kicks; 
With  cudgels  of  oak  weU  haiden^d  m  flame. 
An  hundred  heads  broke,  an  bondred  struck  laioe. 
You  churl,  I  Ml  maiataw  my  iather  bailt  Lusk, 
The  castle  of  Slain,  and  Carrick  Drumrusk : 
The  earl  of  Kildare  and  MoynalU  his  brother. 
As  great  as  they  are,  I  ^as  nurst  by  th^  mother. 
Afk  that  of  old  madam  ;  she  'U  tell  you  who 's  who 
As  fitf  up  as  Adam,  she  knows  it  is'  true. 
Come  down  with  that  beam,  flTcudgeh  are  scarce, 
Arblow  oo  the  weam,  or  a  kick  on  the  a— se. 


AV  EXCELLENT  NEW  SONG 

OK  A  SEDITIOUS  PAMPBLrT^  ,  1720. 
TO  THE  TCMB  OP  PACKIHaTOa's  pouvn. 

BftocASOs  and  damasks,  and  tabbies,  and  gawses. 

Are  by  Robert  Ballendne  lately  brought  over. 
With  forty  things  more :  now  hear  what  the  law  says. 
Whoe'er  will  not  wear  them,  is  not  the  king's  lover. 
Though  a  printer  and  dean 
Seditioosly  mean 
Our  true  Irish  hearts  from  old  England  to  wean ; 
We'll  buy  English  silks  for  our  wires  and  our 

daughters. 
In  spite  of  hb  deanship  and  jonmeyman  Waters. 
In  England  the  dead  in  woollen  are  clad, 

Tba  dean  and  Uapiinter  then  let  us  cry  fye  on ; 

To  be  cloth'd  like  a  carcase,  wbuld  make  a  Teague 

SinQaaliviBgdogbatUriathaBadndliom  [mad, 

1  A  wooden  vassel.  <  Handkerchief. 

^  An  Irish  oath.  *  Irish  for  a  woman* 

^  Daggers  or  short  iwonh.  . 

^  Pn^iDsaU  for  the  untrenal  use  of  Irish  numu^ 
Ikctuitt,  for  which  Waters  the  printer  was  severely 
proiecated. 


^irwhroi  tfiey  |;row  ftaHoB 
.  At.  iwarmg'of  weoHcn, 
And  all  we  poor  shop-keepers  mart  oar  lnwrnpall  ik 
Then  we  'H  boy  &iglish  aitks  for  twr  wives  aad 

our  daughters, 
in  apiie  ef  hb  deanship  and  jot^raoytaam  Wafean. 
Whoever  our  trading  with  England  wcmid  binder, 

To  mflame  both  the  nations  do  piainty  oonipirB; 
Because  Irish  Imen  will  soon  torn  to  tinder. 
And  wed  it  b  greasy,  and  qaickly  takn  %tt. 
Therefore  f  assure  yo«. 
Our  noble  grand  jury,  f  ^'^^•^  ^1*7  • 

When  they  saw  the  dean's  bodk,  they  were  in  a 
They  would  bay  Englbh  silks  for  their  wivas  aad 

then*  daughters, 
In  Sfrite  of  fab  dean^ip  and  jqurncyami  WalM. 
Thb  wicked  rogue  Waters,  who  always  b  sinni^ 
And  before  corum  nobus  so  oft  has  been  call'd. 
Henceforward  shall  print  neither  pamphlets  nor  Imm^ 
And,  if  swearing  can  do  't,  shall  be  swiagio^ 
And  as  for  the  dean,  [mairl*d : 

You  know  whokn  I  mean,  [deaa. 

If  the  printer  will  peach  him,  be  11  scarce  cone  df 
l*hen  we  '11  buy  English  silks  for  oar  wires  and  oar 

daughters. 
In  spite  of  hb  deanship  and  journeyman  Wateis* 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  REAVfTT. 

Whek  first  Diana  leavea  her  bed. 

Vapours  and  steams  her  look  disgxaee^ 
A  froway  diity-coloiir'd  red 

Sits  on  her  ctoody  wrinkled  foce: 
But  by  degrees,  when  mounted  high. 

Her  artificial  foce  appeaft 
Down  from  her  window  m  the  sky. 

Her  spots  are  gone,  her  tisage  clean. 

Tvlzt  earthly  females  and  the  Moott 

All  parallels  exactly  run : 
If  Celia  should  appear  too  soon, 

Alas,  the  nymph  would  be  uodotie ! 
To  see  her  from  her  pillow  rise, 

All  reeking  in  a  doody  steam, 
Crack'd  lips,  foul  teeth,  and  gummy  eyes. 

Poor  Strephon !  how  would  he  blaspheme ! 
Three  colours,  black,  and  red,  and  white^ 

So  graceful  in  their  proper  plaee» 
Remove  them  to  a  different  scite. 

They  form  a  frightful  hidaooa  liMa  s 
For  instance,  when  the  Illy  skips 

Into  the  precincts  of  the  rose. 
And  takes  possession  of  the  lips. 

Leaving  the  purple  to  the  noae :  i 

So  Celia  went  entire  to  bed. 

All  her  complexion  saflB  and  aOttni; 
But,  when  she  rose,  white,  bh»k,  and  red. 

Though  still  in  sight,  had  ahaagU  Hieir  groaol*.  ^ 
The  black,  whieh  wonkl  not  be  oduftft'd, 

A  more  inferior  station  seefea, 
Leavmg  the  fiery  red  behind, 

And  mingles  m  her  muddy  checks. 


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THE  BKQGKESS  OP  ?6ETRY. 


ua 


J^t  CdiA  Can  Wilh  i 

fiy  hel]^  of  peoot),  paint,  and  brusb^ 
£ach  colour  to  its  place  >aiid  use, 

And  teach,  her  Qbeek&  again  to  hluslh 
She  knows  her  «ar4r,  aelf  no  more, 

Bat  fill'd  with  admiration  stands; 
As  other  painters  oft  adore 

The  worknnumbip  of  their  own  bandar 
Thus,  after  four  importaol  boars, 

Ceiia  's  the  wondinroCher  sex : 
Say,  which  among  the  hearealy  powera 

Could  cauM  snDh.manwHous  effects  f 
Venuf,  indulgent  to  ber-Wnd, 

Gave  women  aU  their  hearta  oeuld  wish, 
When  first  she  taugh^them  where  to  find 

WhJte-lead'aockljuitaniaQ  ^  dish*  ^ 

Love  with  white-lead  eements  his  wings  t 

White-lead  waa  sent  us  to  repair 
Two  brightest,  briitleBt,  earthly  things, 

A  lady's  face,  and  Cfaina*4mi%. 

She  TentureafKyw  to  lift  the  sash ; 

The  window  is  her  proper  sph^^re : 
Ab,  lovely  nymph  !  be  not  too  rash. 

Nor  let  the  besnix.  approach  too  ueaiv  ' 

Take  pattern  by  your  tisier  star : 

Delude  at  oocf  and  bless  our  sight ; 
When  you  are  seen,  be  seen  firom  far. 

And  chiefly  choose  to  shine  by  night 
But  art  no  longer  can  prevail. 

When  the  materials  aH  are  gone ; 
The  best  mechanic  band  must  ftul. 

Where  nothing  'ft  left  to  work  upon* 
Matter,  as  wise  togiciant  say. 

Cannot  without  A  form,  sidisist ; 
And/oms,  say  I  as  well  as  they. 

Most  fkil,  if  matter  brings  no  grist 
And  this  is  fiiir  Diana's  case ; 

For  all  astrologers  maintahi. 
Each  night  a  bit  drops  off  her  face. 

When  mortals  say  she  's  in  her  wane : 
While  Partridge  ^  .iniely  shows  tha  causa 

Efficient  of  the  Moon's  decay. 
That  Cancer  with  his  poisonous  claws 

Attacks  her  in  tfaa  lattty  way  .* 
But  Gadbury,  in  art  profound. 

From  her  pala  cheeks  psetcnids  to  show, 
That  swain  Endynko^  is  not  sound. 

Or  else  tlflftrMhmry'ft  har  fa& 
But,  let  the  cause  be.whnt  it  w«ll/ 

In  half  a.iil«Blli>sliwloolBB.sotbin« 
That  Flamsteed  *  cam,  with  all  <his  sldll. 

See  but  her  fcaahnsdnnd  hsr-ohm 

Yet,  as  she  wastes,  shcgiowB<disoreet; 

Till  midoistaliiiatfec  sfaawa^ar  hand': 
So  rotting  Celia  strolls  tli»stMe^ 

When  sobewillkMaMHaubadIt 


>  Poftogali 

>  Partndge  aD4Gft(tt«ry^wrole»readi  air 
mern. 

3  A  young  sh«|pMM490& 
to  be  enamoojMid 

4  John  PlainilMd^  ^vi  oalilMlait  aslt 
xoyaL 


For  sure,  if  this  be  Luna's  fate. 

Poor  GMia,  but  ofmortal  race. 
In  vain  expects  a  longer  date 

To  the  materials  of  het  fiuie. 
When  Meixsury  her  tresses  mows. 

To  think  of  black-lted  combs  is  v^a^ 
No  painting  can  restore  ar  rwstf. 

Nor  will  her  teeth  return  again. 

Ye  powers,  who  over  love  pieside-! 

Since  mortal  beauties  drap-sa  soeii^. 
If  ye  would  haveus.wull  snpply'di, 

Send^us  new.  nymphs  with  ^nafa-innvaM 


PRqORESS  OF  POBTRS. 

Ths  fanner*s  goose,  i^  in-thestuhUtor 
Has  fed  without  resitraint  or  trouble. 
Grown  fat  with  com,  and  sitting  stiH, 
Can  scarce  get  o'er  the  bam-dOar  sill  $: 
And  hardly  waddles  forth  to  cool 
Her  belly )n  the  neighbouring' pool  4 
Nor  l^dly  cackles- at  the  door ; 
For  cackling  shows  the  goose  is  pooiv 

But,  when  she  must  be  tum'd  to  graze. 
And  round  the  barren  oommon  strays. 
Hard  exercise  and  harder  fare 
Soon  make  my  dame  grow  lank  and  spaxet 
Her  body  light,  she  tries  her  wings. 
And  scorns  the  ground,  and  upward  spring!  { 
While  all  the  parish,  as  she  flies. 
Hear  sounds  harmonious  from  the  sldess 

Such  is  the  poet  fh»h  in  pay 
(The  third  ni{^t's  piofits  of  his  play) ; 
His  moming-drauf^  till  noon  can  switt 
Among  his  brethren  of  the  qnill : 
With  good  roast  beef  his  belly  foil. 
Grown  lazy,  foggy,  fat,  and  dull. 
Deep  sunk  in  plenty  and  delight. 
What  poet  e*ercoidd  take  his  flight } 
Or,  stuff 'd  with  phlegm  up  to  the  throal,. 
What  poet  e'er  could  sing  a  note  } 
Nor  Pegasus  could  bear  the  load 
Along  the  high  celestial  road'; 
The  steed,  oppressVi,  wouM  break  his  giitb,. 
To  raise  the  lumber  fh>m  the  Earth. 

But  view  him>in  another  scene. 
When  all  his  drink  is  H^peorena^ 
His  money  spent,  his  patroos  foil. 
His  credit  out  forohaese  and^le^ 
His  two-years  coat  sa  smooth  and  ban. 
Through  every  thread  it  lets  in.atr ; 
With  hqngry  meals  his  body  pin^ 
His  guts  imd  beUyfuU-ofwiali. 
And,  like  a  jockey  for  a  race. 
His  flesh  brought  down  to  fl^^fos^caie  : 
Now  his  exalted^spiritioaths 
Encumbrances  of  food^  and  clothes  | . 
And  up  he  rises,  likb  a  vapour. 
Supported  high  on  wnigiiio^papar) 
He  singing  flies,^awlf<iy^^g  sfags; 
While  foom  below  att  iSMf  t/tntitrtoga 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4U 


SWIFTS  POEBIS. 


THE  SOUTH  SEA  PROJECT. 

mi. 

Apparent  nuri  nantes  in  -goii^te  vasto* 
JHul  virum,  tabnlapqne,  et  Trota  gaza  per 

Tb  wise  pHUotophen,  eiplain 

What  magic  makes  our  money  rke^ 
When  dropt  into  the  Southern  main ; 

Or  do  these  jugglers  cheat  onr  eyes) 
**  Pat  in  ▼our  money  iairly  told ; 

JVesto  I  be  gone--ni8  here  again: 
Ladies  and  gentlemen,  bdioId» 

Here 's  every  piece  as  big  as  ten.** 
Tbns  in  a  bason  drop  a  shilling. 

Then  fill  the  vessel  to  the  brim ; 
YoQ  shall  observe,  as  you  are  filling. 

The  ponderous  metal  seems  to  swim. 
It  rifles  boUi  in  bulk  and  height. 

Behold  it  swelling  like  a  sop ; 
The  liquid  medium  cheats  your  sight ; , 

Behold  it  mounted  to  the  top ! 
^  In  stock  three  hundred  thousand  pound ; 

I  have  in  view  a  lord's  estate ; 
My  manors  all  contiguous  round ; 

A  coach  and  s»,  and  8erv*d  in  plate  !'* 
Thus,  the  deluded  bankrupt  raves ; 

Puts  all  upon  a  desperate  bet  j 
Then  plunges  in  the  Southern  waves. 

Dipt  over  head  and  ears— in  debt. 
80,  by  a  calenture  misled, 

Th^  mariner  with  rapture  sees. 
On  the  smooth  ocean's  azure  bed, 

EnamePd  fields  and  veidant  trees : 
With  eager  haste  he  longs  to  rove 
'  In  that  fantastic  scene,  and  thiidu 
It  must  be  some  enchanted  grove ; 

And  in  he  leaps,  and  down  he  sinks. 
Five  hundred  chariots,'ju8t  bespoke, 

Are  sunk  in  these  devouring  waves, 
The  horKS  drown'd,  the  harness  broke. 

And  here  the  owneis  find  their  g^raves. 
like  Piiaraoh,  by  directon  led ; 

They  with  thcnr  spoilt  went  uife  before } 
Hit  chariots,  tombbng  out  the  dead. 

Lay  sbatter'd  on  the  Red-tea  shore, 
^ais'd  up  on  Hope's  aspiring  plumes. 

The  young  adventurer  o*er  the  deiqp 
An  eagle's  flight  and  state  assumes. 

And  scorns  the  middle-way  to  keep. 
Qpf^ter  whig*  he  takes  bis  flight, 

With  wax  ihe  father  bound  them  fast; 
The  wax  is  melted  by  the  height. 

And  down  the  towering  boy  is  cast 
A  moralist  might  here  explain 

The  rashness  of  the  Cretan  yoatb  ; 
Deacribe  his  &11  into  the  mam. 

And  from  a  &ble  form  a  truth. 
His  wingt  are  his  paternal  rent. 

He  n^ts  the  wax  at  every  flame; 
Bis  credit  sunk,  his  money  spent, 

Jn  Southern  Seat  he  leavet  Int  fUMi#. 


Yui. 


Inform  us,  yon  that  best  can  tdl,    ^ 

Why  in  3ron*  dangettms  gidph  profoond^ 
Where  hundreds  and  wh^e  thouMmdt  fdl, 

FooU  chiefly  float,  the  wite'm  dnmafd* 
So  have  I  seen  from  Severn's  brink 

A  flock  oi  geese  jump  down  togefther^ 
Swim,  where  the  bird  of  Jove  would  sii^ 

And,  swimmmg,  never  wet  a  feather. 

But,  I  aflkm,  tis  fiilse  m  ^ct, 
JDireetort  better  knew  their  toob; 

We  see  the  natkm's  credit  ciad^ 
Each  knave  hath  made  ailioaanid  foola. 

One  fool  may  from  another  win. 

And  then  get  off  with  money  storM  ; 
But,  if  a  sheSrper  once  dxnes  in. 

He  throws  at  all,  and  sweeps  the  boaid. 
As  fishes  on  each  other  prey. 

The  great  ones  swtdlowing  up  the  small; 
So  fares  it  in  the  Southern  Sea. ; 

The  whale  directors  eat  up  alL 

When  stock  is  high,  they  come  between* 

Makmg  by  second-hand  their  ofiers  ; 
Then  cunnmgly  retire  unseen. 

With  each  a  milUon  tnhis  coflbn. 
So,  when  upon  a  moon-shine  night 

An  ass  was  drinking  at  a  stream ; 
A  cloud  arose,  and  stopt  the  l^t. 

By  intercepting  eviery  beam : 
**  The  day  of  judgment  will  be  soon" 

(Cries  out  a  sage  among  the  croud)  ; 
'*  An  ass  hath  swallow'd  up  the  llloon  ! 

(The  Moon  lay  safe  behind  a  cloud).** 

Each  poor  subscriber  to  the  sea 

Sinks  down  at  once,  and  there  he  lies  ; 
Directors  fall  as  well  as  they. 

Their  &11  is  but  a  trick  to  rise. 
So  fishes,  rising  from  the  msin. 

Can  soar  wi&  moistened  wings  on  faighr 
The  moisture  dry'd,  they  sink  again. 

And  dip  their  fins  again  to  fly. 
Undone  at  play,  the  female  troops 

Come  here  their  losses  to  retrieve  ; 
Ride  o'er  the  waves  in  spacious  hoops. 

Like  Lapland  witches  in  a  sieve. 
Thus  Venus  to  the  sea  descends. 

As  poets  feign;  but  where 's  the  mo(al^ 
It  shows  the  queen  of  love  intends 

To  search  the  deep  for  pearl  and  ooraL 
The  sea  is  richer  than  the  land, 

I  heard  it  from  my-grannam's  mdsath  ;  . 
Whichf  now  I  clearly  imderstand. 

For  by  the  sea.  she  meant  the  AniUI. 

Thus  by  directors  we  are  told, 

<<  Pray,  geDtknen,  believe  your  eyes; 
Onr  ocean 's  oover'd  <»'er  with  gold. 

Look  round  and  see  hofw  thidL  it  lies :  • 
We,  gentlemen,  are  your  assisfeers, 

We  '11  come,  and  hold  you  by  die  chki^-^ 
Alas!  all  is  not  gold  that  glisters. 

Then  thousand  sink  fay  leaping  in. 
Oh!  would  these  pailriats  be  so  kind,  . 

Here  in  the  deep  to  wash  their  hasidi,  . 
Then,  like  Pactolus,  we  sbould^flnd 

The  sea  indeed  had  go^tftn  foiid^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ IC 


THE  SOUTH  SEA  PROJECT. 


4X1 


A  ildlfiBg  in  the  6alA3roa  fling; 

The  niter  takes  a  nobler  h»e» 
9y  magic  virtue  in  tbe.iipring« 

And  teenM  a  guinea  to  yoor  new. 

But,  as  a  guinea  trill  not  paw 

At  mailLet  fisr  a  fiuthing  mofet 
Sbovn  throagh  a  moHiptying-gliiss^  ^ 

Than  what  it  always  did  before : 

So  cast  it  in  the  &KM«n»  seasy 

Or  view  it  throagh  Ajobber^%  bill ; 
Pat  on  what  spectacles  you  please, 

Yonr  gumea  's  but  a  guuiea  stilL 
One  night  a  fool  into  a  brook 

Thns  from  a  hillock  looking  downt 
The  golden  start  for  guineas  took. 

And  mAmt  Cynthia  for  a  crown. 
Tlie  point  he  could  no  longer  doubt; 

He  imn,  be  leapt  into  the  ilood ; 
Ibere  sprawlM  awhile,  and  scarce  got  out, 

AH  eover'd  o'er  with  slime  and  mud. 
''  Upon  the  water  cast  thy  bread. 

And  after  man^  days  thou  'It  find  it;" 
But  gold  upon  this  ocean  qiread 

Shall  snik,  and  leave  no  mailk  bdund  it. 
There  is  a  gulph,  where  thousands  foU, 

Here  all  the  bold  adventurers  came, 
A  narrow  sound,  though  deep  as  Hdl ; 

XSiange-Alley  is  the  dreadful  name. 
Nme  times  a  day  it  ebbs  and  flows ; 

Yet  he  that  on  the  surfoce  lies. 
Without  a  pilot  seldom  knows 

The  time  it  falls,  or  when  *twiU  rise. 
Subscribers  here  by  thousands  float 

And  jostle  one  another  down ; 
Sach  MMldling  m  his  leidiy  boat; 

And  here  ^ey  fish  for  gold,  and  drowi. 
*  Now  bury'd  in  the  depth  below. 

Now  mounted  up  to  Heaven  again. 
They  reel  and  stagger  to  and  fro, 

At  their  wits  end,  like  drunken  men  i." 
Mean  time  secure  on  Qarraway  <  cliffs, 

A  savage  race  by  shipwrecks  fed. 
Lie  waitmg  for  the  founder^  ski^ 

AnA  strip  the  bodies  of  the  dead. 
But  these,  yon  say,  are  factious  lies, 

From  some  malicious  Tory's  brain  ; 
For,  where  directort  get  a  prize. 

The  Swiss  and  Dutch  whole  millioiM  drain, 
tlius,  when  by  rooks  a  ford  b  ply'd. 

Some  cuUy  often  wins  a  bet. 
By  venturing  on  the  cheating  side. 

Though  not  into  the  secret  let 
While  some  build  castles  in  the  air, 

Direetort  build  them  in  the  seas  ; 
Sititarihert  plainly  see  them  there. 

For  fools  will  see  as  wise  men  please. 
Thns  oft  by  marinen  are  shown 

(Unless  the  men  of  Kent  are  liars) 
Earl  Godwm's  castles  overflown. 

And  palaoe-roofr,  and  steeple-spores. 
Mark  where  the  sly  dirtctort  creep. 

Nor  to  the  shore  approach  too  nigh  ! 

iPsalmcviL 

*  A  coffee-house  m  'Change-AUe^.  v 


The  monsters  nestle  in  the  deep. 

To  seize  you  in  your  passing  by. 
Then,  like  the  dogs  of  Nile,  be  wise,   . 

W^  taught  by  instinct  how  to  shun 
The  crocodile,  that  lurking  lies. 

Run  as  they  drink,  and  drink  and  run. 
Anteus  oouM,  by  magic  charms. 

Recover  strength  whene'er  he  foil ; 
Alcides  held  him  in  his  arms. 

And  sent  hhn  vp  m  air  to  HelL 
Direetort,  thrown  into  the  sea. 

Recover  strength  and  vigoui;  there; 
But  may  be  tam'd  another  way, 

Sutpended  for  a  while  in  ear. 
Direetart  /  for  *tis  you  I  warn, 
.  By  long -experience  we  have  found 
What  planet  rul'd  when  you  were  bom; 

We  see  you  never  can  be  drown'd. 
Beware,  nor  over-bulky  grow. 

Nor  come  within  your  cully's  reach  ; 
For,  if  the  sea  should  sink  so  fow 

To  leave  you  dry  upon  the  beach. 
You  'U  owe  your  ruin  to  your  bulk  : 

Your  fioes  already  waiting  stand. 
To  tear  you  like  a  foundered  hulk. 

While  you  lie  helpless  on  the  sand. 
Thus,  when  a  whale  has  lost  the  tide. 

The  coasters  crowd  to  seize  the  spoil ; 
Hie  monster  mto  parts  divide. 

And  strip  the  bones,  and  melt  the  oiL 
Oh  !  may  some  wettem  tempest  sweep 

These  locxtttt  whom  our  fruits  have  fed. 
That  plagae,  dtreetort,  to  the  deep, 

Driven  from  the  South-Sea  to  the  Sfd  ! 
Bfay  he,  whum  Nature^s  laws  obey. 

Who  liftt  the  poor,  and  tinkt  the  proud, 
'*  Quiet  the  raging  of  the  tea. 

And  still  the  madness  of  the  crowd !" 
But  never  shall  our  isle  have  rest. 

Till  those  devouring  tvoine  run  dowu, 
(The  devils  leaving  the  possest) 

And  headlong  in  the  waiert  drown. 
The  nation  then  too  Ute  will  find. 

Computing  all  their  cost  and  trouble, 
Directort*  promises  but  wnid, 

SotUh-Sea  at  best  a  mighty  bubble. 


THE  DOG  AND  SHADOW. 

Oeb  cibum  portans  catulus  dum  spectat  in  undk, 
Apparet  liqmdo  praedie  meFioris  imago : 
Dum  speciosa  diu  damna  admiratur,  et  alte 
Ad  latices  inhiat,  cadit  imo  vortice  pra^ceps 
Ore  cibus,  nee  non  simulachrum  corripit  una. 
Occupat  ille  avibus  deceptis  foucibus  umbram  ; 
Illudit  species,  ac  dentibus  a($ra  mordet. 


TO  A  FRIEND, 

WaO  BAD  BBBN   MVCB  AlUSBIT  IN   MAMT 

nirrBUBifT  libbls. 

Tbb  greatest  monarch  may  be  stabb'd  by  nifl^t. 
And  fortune  help  tim  fflurdeier  in  his  flight; 


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4rC 


SWIFTS  fCfEUSs. 


The  vilest  ni0ian  iMjf  flotumit  a*  raps, 
Yet  safe  from  injitr'd  mnoeeiice  esoape ; 
And  calumny,  by  working  ander  groand 
Can,  unreveag'd,  the  greatest  merit  iround. 

What 's  to  be  done  ?  Shall  wit  and  leamiif^eboose 
To  live  obseure;  and  havt?  no  fame  to  Kjse  ? 
By  censure  frighted  out  of  honour's  road, 
Nor  dare  to  use  the  gifts  by  Heaven  bestow'd? 
Or  fearless  enter  in  through  virtue's  gate. 
And  buy  dbtinctionat  the  dearest  rate  ? 


MIZLBT 


^  TO  THE   COBIPANY   OF   PLATERf. 

Thb  enclosed  Prologne  is  formed  upeo  the  story  of 
the  secretary's  not  sofiMnf  you  to  act,  imless  yon 
would  pay  him  300/.  per  annum  ;  upoo  which  you 
got  a  licence  from  the  lord  mayor  to  act  as  strol- 
lers. 

The  Prologue  supposes,  that,  upon  your  being 
forbidden  to  act,  a  company  oi  country-strollers 
came  and  hired  the  play-house,  and  your  clothes, 
&c  to  act  in. 


THE  PROLOGUE. 

OUR  set  of  sHroUers,  wmderhig  up  and  down. 
Hearing  the  house  was  empty,  came  to  town ; 
And,  with  a  lieence  fhom  our  good  lord  mayor. 
Went  to  one  Griffith*  formerly  a.  player ; 
Him  we  persuaded,  with  a  moderate  bribe, 
To  speak  to  Elrington  and  all  the  tribe. 
To  let  ouroompaoy  supply  their  places. 
And  hire  us  out  their  scenes,  and  clothes,  and  fiicet. 
Is  not  the  truth  the  truth  ?  Look  full  oo  me ; 
I  am  not  Elrington,  ix>r  Griffith  he. 
When  we  perform,  look  sharp  among  our  crew. 
There's  not  a  creature  here  you  ever  knew. 
The  former  folks  were  servants  to  the  king ; 
We,  humble  strollers,  always  on  the  wing. 
Now,  for  my  part,  I  think  upon  the  whole. 
Rather  than  starve,  a  better  man  would  stroll. 

Stay,  let  me  see^-^Hiree  Irandred  potrods  a  year, 
For  leave  to  act  in  tonm!  Tia  plaguy  dear. 
Now,  here  's  a  warrant ;  gallants,  pleaae  to  mask. 
For  three  thirteens  and  sixpence  to  the  derk. 
Three  hundred  pounds  !  Were  I  the  price  to  fix. 
The  public  should  tjestiytrthe  actors  six. 
A  sooHre  of  guineas,  given  under-hand. 
For  a  godd  word  or  so,  we  understand. 
To  help  an  honest  lad  that 's  out  of  pbo^ 
M^y  cost  a  crown  or  so ;  a  common  cas« : 
And,  in  a  crew,  'tis  no  injustice  thought 
To  ship  a  rogue,  and  pay  him  not  a  groat 
But,  in  the  chronicles  of  former  ages. 
Who  ever  heard  of  servants  paying  wages  ? 

I  pity  Elrington  with  all  my  heart ; 
Would  he  were  here  this  night  to  act  my  part ! 
I  told  him  what  it  was  to  be  a  stroller ; 
How  free  we  acted,  and  had  no  comptroller : 
In  every  town  we  WHStoa  Mr*  May&r, 
First  get  a  licence,  then  produce  our  ware ; 
We  sound'  a  thmpet,  or  we  bent  a  drtim ; 
Huzza!  (the school-boysToar^tliepIayersara come! 
And  then  we  cry,  to  spur  the  bumpkins  on, 
QaUMMi  by  TcMiAiy  ti^KTwe'tMut  he  gout: 


t  told  him,  in  the  sMoatfiest  Way  1  OdM, 
All  this  and  more,  ytft  it  wo«ld  do  no  good« 
But  Elrjngton,  tears  ialling  from  his  ohe^i^ 
He  that  has  sho«e  wfth  Betteiton  and  WiUa, 
To  whom  our  country  has  beeir  always  dear^ 
Who  chose  to  le«ve  his  dearest  pledges  heie^ 
Owns  all  your  fovours,  here  miends  to  stay,< 
And  as  I  stroller,  act  in  every  play  : 
And  the  whole  cr^  this  resolution  tak^ 
To  live  and  die  all  strollers  for  your  sakes  i 
Not  fright^  witti  an  ignominious  name, 
For^our  displeasure  is  their  only  shame. 

A  pox  on  Rlrihgton''s  majestic  tone! 
Now  io  a  word  of  busirieSs  in  our  own. 

Gallants,  neWt  Thunday  night  will  be  our  Ust; 
Then,  without  foil,  we  pitck  up  fbr  BeUSsSt. 
lose  not  your  time,  nor  o«lr  diveitioDs  miss. 
The  next  we  ac(  riiall  be  as  goad  i»  'iiia» 


EPIGRAM. 

GsB  AT  folks^^are  of  a  filler  monld  ; 
Lord  !  how  politely  they  can  BtxAH ! 
While  a  coarse  English  tongue  will  itdi 
For  whore.and  rogtie,  and  dog  and  tttcfa* 


PROLOGUB 

TO    A  PLAT     FOR  TBB   BZlTEFrr    Ol'  tBt    titSTtlMBa 
WXAVBRS.      BY  DB;  SHEBTDAlt. 

spoRBit  BT  MR.  BLRiNeroir,     1*731. 

Great  cry  and  little  wool-^is  now  beeome 
The  plague  and  proverb  of  the  weaver^  looiB  : 
No  wool  to  work  on,  neither  weft  nor  warp  ; 
Their  pockets  empty,  and  their  stomachs  sharp. 
Provok'd,  in  lotid  complamts  to  you  they  cry : 
Ladies,  relieve  the  weavers ;  or  they  die ! 
Forsake  your  silks  for  stuffs ;  nor  think  it  strange' 
To  shift  your  clothes,  shice  you  delight  in  chaflg«. 
One  thing  with  freedom  I  'II  presume  to  ttX^ 
The  men  will  like  you  erery  bit  aft  welL 

See,  1  am  drest  from  top  to  toe  m  stuff; 
And,  by  my  troth,  1  think  I  'm  fine  eoough : 
My  wifo  admires  me  more,  and  swears  she  nsfer^ 
In  any  dress,  beheld  me  look  so  clever. 
And,  if  a  man  be  better  in  such  ware. 
What  great  advantage  must  it  give  the  fair ! 
Our  wool  from  lambs  of  innocence  proceeds : 
Silks  come  from  maggots,  callicoes  from  weeds : 
Hence  'tis  by  sad'expefielicc  that  we  find 
Ladies  in  silks  to  vapours  much  inclined— 
And  what  are  they  but  maggots  in  the  iMhtf  ?* 
For  which  1  think  it  reason  to  oonchide 
That  clotlies  may  change  our  temper  Ifte  odf  fboi' 
Chintzes  are-gBWdy,  and  ^iigage  odr  eyts 
Too  much  about  the  patty- coloorkl  dyvBi 
Although  the  lustre  is  from  you  begun. 
We  see  the  raintxiw,  and  neglect 'the  Son; 

How  sweetand  inoooenl  's  theoomtry^Mil^ 
With  small  expense  in  native  wool  array'd; 
Who  copies  from  the  fields  her  hbinely.  gieen, , 
While  by  her  shepherd  with  delight  she's  aoea) 
Should  our  fair  ladies  dress  like  her  in  woojL 
How  much  more  lovely,  and  how  be^MfaS 


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EPILOGUE- . . .  OAUUrroWN  HOUSE. 


417 


WiUKrat  ttnAr  iviSm  dtmperr,  they  M  pwn, 
Wbttst  ««»l  ««ald  he^  to  wavm  ns  into  love ! 
Then  Uke  the  fidBoot  ArgManta  of  Oreeee, 
Wa 'd  all  cootewl  t»  gAin  the  GaM«a  neoce  I 


MPILOGUE,  ]$Y  THE  DEAN, 

fVOnm  BT  M«.  MlFflTH. 

Who  dares  affirm  this  is  no  pious  age, 
When*  charity  begins  to  tread  the  sta^  ? 
When  actors,  who  at  best,  aie  hardly  sa^en. 
Will  give  a  night  of  benefit  to  weavers  ? 
9Uy— let  me  see,  how  finely  will  it  sound ! 
Impnndty  From  his  grace  i  an  hundred  pound. 
Peers,  clergy,  gentry,  all  are  bendactom  ;     ' 
And  then  comes  in  the  item  of  the  actors. 
-  Itewiy  The  actors  freely  gave  a  day — 
The  poet  had  no  nM>re  who  made  the  play. 

But  whence  this  wondrous  charity  in  fdayers? 
They  learnt  it  not  at  sermons,  or  at  prayers : 
Undler  the  rose,  since  here  are  none  but  friends, 
(To  own  the  troth)  ve  have  some  private  ends. 
Since  waiting-women,  like  exacting  jades. 
Hold  up  the  prices  of  their  old  brocades  ; 
We  'H  dress  in  mmnufn/ctuTes  made  at  hcnie* 
Equip  our  ib'ngt  and  gesurah  at  The  Comb  '. 
We  *]]rigfitmiMeath.streetiBgypt'shaughtyquaen, 
And  Antony  ahaU  court  her  in  ratteen. 
In  b^  ihelloon  shall  Hannibal  be  clad, 
iUid  Scipio  trail  an  Irish  purple  plaiiL 
In  drugget  drest,  of  thirteen  pence  a  yard, 
See  Phiup's  mm  amidst  his  Persian  guard  ; 
And  proud  Roxana,  fir'd  with  jealous  rage. 
With  fifty  yasds  of  crtfe  shaB  sweep  the  stage. 
In  short,  our  kings  and  princesses  within 
Are  all  resolvM  this  prqject  to  begin; 
And  yoo,  oor  suljects,  when  you  here  veaort, 
Mu!it  imitate  the  &shion  of  the  court. 

Oh !  could  I  see  this  au&eoce  clad  in  stuff. 
Though  money  ^&scarce,we  shouldbavettade  enough: 
But  chintte,  brocadet,  and  laee,  take  all  away. 
And  scarce  a  crown  is  left  to  see  a  pUy. 
Perhaps  yiro  wonder  whence  this  friendal^  springs 
Between  the  weaveis  and  us  play-boose  kings; 
Bat  wit  and  weaving  had  the  same  beginning  i 
Pallas  first  taught  ns  poetry  and  ipinnii^: 
And,  next,  observe  how  tbb  alliance  fits. 
For  weavers  now  are  just  as  poor  as  wits : 
Theirlmithnr  ^niU-men,  workers  for  the  stage. 
For  sorry  t/if^*  can  get  a  crown  a  page; 
But  weavers  will  be  kinder  to  the  pUyers, 
And  sell  for  twaaty-peace  a  yard  of  theirs. 
And,  to  your  knowledge,  there  is  often  less  in 
The  poet's  wit,  than  in  the  player's  dressing. 


A   POEM 
BY  BR.  DELANT, 

on  THI  niCKPIMO  nOLOOUI  AKD  IPltOOVE. 

Fonniaeo  generi  t>ib«snlnr. 

Tbs  Muses,  whom  the  richest  silks  array, 
Befcse  to  fiing  th^  shining  gvwns  away : 

1  Archbishop  Kmg. 

<  A  street  fiunous  for  W9ollco  mamifoctafm 
YOL.XL 


The  pendl  daMMS  the  TGiM  m  bright  Wosadet, 
And  gives  each  colour  to  the  pictured  maids; 
Far  above  mortal-dfesv  the  sisters  shine, 
Pride  m  thehr  Indian  robes,  and  must  be  fine. 
And  shaU  two  bards  hi  conoeit  thyme  and  huff, 
Andiret  these  Muses  with  their  play-house  sWff  ? 

The  player  in  mimic  piety  may  storm, 
Deplore  the  Oomb,  and  bid  her  heroes  arm : 
The  arbitrary  mob,  in  paltry  rage. 
May  curee  the  belles  and  chintzes  of  the  ages 
Yet  still  the  artist  worm  her  silk  shall  share. 
And  spin  her  thread  of  life  in  service  of  the  ftir. 

The  cotton-plant,  whom  satire  cannot  blast. 
Shall  bloom  the  favourite  of  these  realms,  and  laA; 
Like  yours,  ye  fair,  her  fame  from  censure  grows. 
Prevails  in  charms,  and  glares  above  her  foes : 
Yoor  mjur^d  pbnt  shall  meet  a  loud  defence. 
And  be  the  emblem  of  your  innocence. 

Some  bard,  perhaps,  whose  landlord  was  a  weaver, 
Penn'd  the  low  prologue,  to  return  a  favour : 
Some  neighbour  wit,  that  would  be  in  the  vogue, 
Work'd  with  hi*  friend,  and  wove  the  epilogue. 
Who  weaves  the  ofaaplet,  or  provides  the  bagrs. 
For  such  wool-gathering  sonnetteers  as  the«  > 
Henoe  then,  ye  homt-ipum  witlings,  that  persuade 
Miss  O^oe  to  the  fashion  of  her  naaid. 
Shall  the  voide  hoop,  that  standard  of  the  town. 
Thus  act  subservient  to  a  poplin  gown  ? 
Who'd  smell  of  wool  all  over?  Tis  enough 
The  under-petticoat  be  made  of  stuC 
Loid  !  to  \ni  wraf  t  in  fiannel  just  in  May, 
When  the  fields  dressed  in  flowers  appear  so  gay  1 
And  shall  not  miss  be^wrr'd  af  well  9\  they  ? 

In  what  weak  c«loura  woukl  the  plaid  ai^iear, 
Work'd  to  a  quilt,  or  sUidded  in  a  chair ! 
The  skh),  that  vies  with  silk,  would  fret  with  stuff; 
Or  who  couUl  bear  hi  bed  a  thing  so  rough } 
Ye  knowing  fair,  how  eminent  that  bed. 
Where  the  chintze  diamonds  with  the  silken  thread. 
Where  rustling  cniiains  call  the  curious  eye. 
And  boast  the  streaks  and  paintings  of  the  sky  ! 
Of  flocks  they'd  have  your  milky  ticking  full; 
And  all  this  for  the  benefit  of  wool ! 
"  But  where,"  say  they,  "  shall  we  beatemAheii 
weavers,  [oravers  ?» 

That  spread  oar  streets,  and  are  <nch    piteous 
The  silk-worms  (brittle  beings !)  prone  to  .fate. 
Demand  their  care  to  make  their  webs  complete: 
These  may  they  tend,  their  promises  receive; 
We  cannot  pay  too  much  for  what  they  give ! 


ON  gaulstown  hovse. 

IT  Oa.  DCIAMT  K 

Tis  so  old,  and  so  ugly,,  and  yet  aft  ooBwriwi^    . 
You  're  sometimes  in  pleasore,  though  often  in 

pain  in  t: 
*Ti8  so  large,  you  may  lodge  a  fair  fnmk  witl^ 

easein  t: 
You  may  torn  and  ^boMi  9X  your  length  if  yoa 

please  in  t : 

1  The  seat  €?  George  Bochfort,  eaq.  (fathw  to 
the  earl  of  Belvidere) ;  where  Dr.  JJwtft  and  an 
axteeidde  set  of  friends  9«it  part  of  the  faamiar  Qt 

mi. 

Si 


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41S 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


'Tw  ap  litdc,  «h«  family  IWo  in  a  press  in  %  Now  water  »8  bnmglifc»  and  dmner  •  done : 

An  J  poor  lady  Bettv  «  has  scarce  room  to  dress  hi 't :     With  **  Church  and  Kmg"  the  lady  9  gone  j 
'Ti  ^  so  cold  in  tJie  wioter»  you  can't  bear  to  lie  in  't ;    (Not  reckoning  |ialf  an  hour  ^we  paw 
And  so  hot  in^the  summer,  you  *re  ready  to  fry  in  't:     In  talking  o'er  a  moderate  gl««8)- 
Tis  80  brittle,  'twould  scarce  bear  the  weight  of  a  !  Dan,  growing  drowsy,  like  a  thief 

(,  tun ;  I  Steals  off  to  dose  away  his  beef; 

Yet  io  stanch .  (»^at  it  ke^s  out  a  great  deal  of  sun :     |  And  this  must  pass  for  reading  Hammond— 
Tis  so  craz>',  the  weather  with  ease  beats  quite    While  George  and  Dean  go  to  back-gammon. 

through  it,  [new  it.    George,  Nim,.  and  Dean,  set  out  at  four, 

And  you  're  forc'd  every  year  in  some  part  to  r©- 
»Ti8  so  ugly,  so  useful,  so  big,  and  so  little  ; 
^Tis  so  stanch,  and  lio  crazy,  so  strong,   and  so 

briUle ; 
'Jw  at  one  time  so  hot,  and  another  so  cold ; 
It  is  part  of  the  new,  and  part  oC  the  old } 
it  IS  jiuit  half  a  blesi^ini?,  and  just  half  a  curse--> 
I  wish  then,  dear  Gecurge,  it  were  better  or  worse. 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE. 

PAtT,  OP    A   SDUMCa   SPENT  AT  CACLSTOWN  -  BOCTSK. 

Thalia,  tell  in  jwber  lays,  [days; 

How  George  »,  Nim  «,  Dan  »,  Dean  *,  pass  their 

And,  should  ourXjaul8town*s  art  grow  fallow, 

Yet  negei  quis  9armiia  f>cdlu  ? 

Here  (by  tlic  way)  by  Galluj?  mean  I 

Not  Sheridan,  but  friend  Delany. 

Begin,  my  Muse.     First  from  our  bowert 

We  sally  forth  at  different  hours  ; 

At  seven  the  Dean,  in  night-gowivdre^t, 

Goei  round  the  house  to  wak3  the  rest ; 

At  nine,  grave  Nim,  and  George  facetious, 

Gb  Co  the  Dean,  to  read  Lucretius ; 

At  ten,  my  lady  corner  and  liectors. 

And  kisses  George,  and  ends  our  lectures  ; 

Awl  when  she  has  him  by  the  neck  fast, 

Halls  him,  and  scolds  us  down  to  breakfast. 

We  squander  there  an  hour  or  more, 

And  then  all  hands,  boys,  to  the  oar ; 

AM,  hett^roclite  Dan  except, 

Who  neithcT  time  nor  order  kept, 

Put,  by  peculiar  whimsies  drawn. 

Peeps  in  tl>e  ponds  to  look  for  spawn ; 

O'ersew  the  work,  or  Dra^m  *  rows. 

Or  mars  a  text,  or  mends  bis  hose ; 

Or — but  prtH«^d  we  in  onr  journal— 

At  twi),  or  after,  we  return  all :         .    . 

From  the  four  elements  assembling, 

Waru'd  by  the  bell,  all  folks  come  trembling  : 

From  {liry  parrets  some  descend. 

Some  from,tbe  Jake's  remotest  end : 

My  lord  *  nn^  Dean  the  fire  forsake ; 

Dan  leaves  the  e;rrthly  spade  and  rake  r 

The  loiterer>:  quake,  no  comer  hides  them. 

And*  lady  Bdty  soundly  chides  them. 

.    «  Qau filter  to  the  earl  of  Drogheda,  and  the 
wife  of  Mr.  Porbfbrt 

J  Mr^  Rochfort 
^     2  His  brothci^  Mr.  John  RocMbrt,  who  was  call- 
ed Nimrod,  from  his  great  attachment  to  the  ehase. 
,     ^.  Rev.  Dapicl  Jackson.  *  Dr.  Swift. 

^  A  small  boat  so  called. 
*,     c  Alt.  Rochfort's  father  was  lord  chief  boron  of 
the  exchequer  in  IrcTaiK^.  *    '  ' 


And  then  again,  boys,  to  the  oar. 

But  when  the  Sun  goes  to  the  deep, 

(Not  to  disturb  him  in  his  sleep. 

Or  make  a  rumbling  o'er  his  head. 

His  candle  out,  and  he  a-bcd) 

We  watch  his  motions  to  a  minute. 

And  leave  the  flood  when  he  goes  in  it. 

Now  stinted  in  the  shortening  day. 

We  go  to  prayers,  and  then  to  play, 

Tdi  supper  comes ;  and  after  that 

We  sit  an  hour  to  drink  and  chat 

'Tis  late — the  old  and  younger  pairs. 

By  Adam  '^  lighted,  walk  up  stairs. 

The  weary  Dean  goes  to  his  chamber  5 

And  Nim  and  Dan  to  garret  clamber. 

Sb  when  the  circle  we  have  run, 

The  curtain  falls,  and  all  is  done. 
I  might  have  mention*d  8ev*ral  fiiCts, 

like  episodes  between  the  acts ; 

And  tell  who  loses  and  who  wins. 

Who  gets  a  cold,  who  breaks  hw  shins; 

How  Dan  caught  nothing  in  his  net. 

And  how  the  boat  was  overset. 

For  brevity  I  have  retrenched 

How  in  the  lake  the  Dean  was  drendi'ds 

It  would  be  an  exploit  to  brag  on, 

How  valiant  George  rode  o'er  the  Dragon; 

How  steady  in  the  storm  he  sat, 

And  sav'd  his  oar,  but  lost  his  bat : 

How  Nim  (no  hunter  e'er  could  match  hira) 

Still  biings  us  hares,  when  ho  can  catch  them: 

How  skilfully  Dan  mends  his  nets ; 

How  fortune  fails  him  when  he  sets : 

Or  how  the  Dean  delights  to  tcx 

The  ladies*  and  lampoon  their  sex. 

I  might  have  told  how  ofl»  dean  Perrfvale 

Displays  his  pedantry  unmercifnl ; 

How  haughtily  he  cocks  his  nose. 

To  tell  what  every  school-boy  knows  | 

And  with  his  finger  and  his  thumb. 

Explaining,  strikes  opposers  dumb : 

But  now  there  needs  no  more  be  said  00 1, 

Nor  how  his  wife,  that  female  pedant, 

Shows  all  her  secrets  of  housekeeping ; 

For  candles  how  she  trucks  hpr  dripprog  ; 

Was  fbrc'd  to  send  three  miles  for  yeast. 

To  brew- her  ale,  and  raise  her  paste  ; 

Tells  every  thing  that  you  can  think  of. 

How  she  cur»d  Charly  of  the  diin-cough  ; 

What  gave  her  brats  and  pigs  the  measles^ 

And  how  her  doves  were  kdl'd  by  weasels ; 

How  Jowler  howpd,  and  what  a  fright 

She  had  with  dreaais  the  other  night 

Bat  now,  since  I  have  gone  60  far  on, 
A  wotd  or  two  of  lord  chief  barony 
And  tell  how  litUe  weight  he  sets 
On  all  whig  papers  and  gaxettei  j 
But  for  the  politics  of  Pue, 
Thinks  evciy  syllable  is  true. 

''  The  batlerl 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN. 


419 


And  since  he  owns  the  kmg  of  Sweden 
Is  dead  at  last  without  evading. 
Now  all  bis  hopes  are  in  the  Czar : 
**  Why,  Muscovy  is  not  so  far  : 
Down  the  Blade  Sea,  and  up  the  Streights, 
And  in  a  month*  he  's  at  your  gat^ ; 
Perhaps,  from  what  the  packet  brings. 
By  Christmas  we  shall  see  strange  things.''' 
Why  should  I  tell  of  ponds  and  drains. 
What  carps  we  met  with  for  our  pains ; 
Of  sparrows  tam*d,  and  nuts  innumerable 
To  choke  the  girls,  and  .to  consume  a  rabble  ? 
But  you,  who  are  a  .scholar,  knqw 
How  transient  all  things  are  below. 
How  prone  to  change  is  human  life  ! 
Last  night  arrived  Clem  8  and  his  wife — 
This  grand  event  hath  broke  our  measures ; 
Their  reign  began  with  cruel  seizures : 
The  Dean  must  with  his  quilt  supply 
The  bed  in  which  those  tyrants  lie : 
Nim  lost  his  wig-block,  Dan  his  Jordan 
(My  lady  says,  she  can^t  afford  one) ; 
Cleorge  is  half-scar'd  out  of  his  wits. 
For  Clem  gets  all  the  dainty  bits. 
Henceforth  expect  a  different  survey. 
This  house  will  soon  turn  topsy-turvey : 
They  talk  of  further  alterations. 
Which  causes  many  i|>eculations. 


THOMAS  SHERIDAN,  Clerk, 
TO  GEORGE-mM-DAN'DEAir,  ESS. 

JULY  15,  1721,  AT  NIGHT. 

I  *D  have  3rou  V  know,  George  ',  Dan  «,  Dean  ^, 

and  Nim  *, 
That  I  've  learned  how  verse  t*  compose  trim, 
Much  b^'ter  V  half  th'ii  you,  n'r  you,  nV  him. 
And  th*t  I  *d  ridicule  their  'nd  your  flara-flim. 
Ay'  b't  then,  pVhaps,  says  you,  t's-a  m'rry  whim 
With  'bundance  of  marked  notes  i'  th'  rim. 
So  tht  I  ought  n't  for  t»  be  morose  *nd  t»  look  grim, 
Think  n*t  your  'p'stle  put  m'  in  a  meagrim ; 
Though  *nrept*t'on  day,  I  *ppear  vcr'  slim, 
Th'  last  bowl  't  Helsham's  did  m'  head  t'  swim. 
So  tht  I  h'd  man'  aches  -n  'v'ry  scrubb*d  limb, 
Cause  th»  top  of  th'  bowl  I  h'd  oft  us'd  t'  skim- 
And  b'sides  D'lan'  swears  th't  I  h'd  swaUyd  sVrM 

brim- 
mers, 'nd  that  my  vis'ge  's  cover'd  o'er  with  r'd  pim- 
ples :  m Wer  though  m'  scull  wefe  (s'  tis  n't)  's 

strong  's  tim- 
ber, t'must  have  ak'd.    Th' clans  of  th'c'lledge 

Sanh'drim, 
Pres'n't  the^r  humbl'  and  'fect'nate  respects ;  that's 

t'  say,  D'lan',  'chlin,  P.  Ludl',  Die'  St'wart, 

fi'bhaifr,  capt'n  P*rr'  Wahnsl',  'nd  Longsh'nks 

TmmK 

»  Mr.  Clement  Barry. 
^Geo.  Bochfort. 
<  Mr*  Jackson. 
^Dr.Swiit  ^ 

*J.  Rochfort. 

/*  Dr.  iamet  Stppford,  afUrwards  biihqf»  of  Cl^e. 


GEORGE-'NIM'DAS'DEAN'S  A^'SJVER. 

Dear  Sheridan !  a  gentle  pair 

Of  Gaulstown  lads  (for  such  they  arc). 

Besides  a  brace  of  grave  divines. 

Adore  the  smoothness  of  thy^  lines  j 

Smooth  as  our  bason's  silver  flood, 

Ere  George  had  robb'd  it  of  its  mud  ; 

Smoother  than  Pegasus'  old  shoe,  ^ 

Ere  Vulcan  comes  to  make  him  new. 

The  board  on  which  we  set  our  a — s, 

Is  not  so  smooth  as  are  thy  verses, 

Compar'd  with  which  (and  that 's  enough) 

A  smoothing  iron  itself  is  rough. 

Nor  praise  I  less  that  circumcisioti. 

By  modem  poets  call'd  elision, 

With  which,  in  proper  station  plac'd. 

Thy  polish'd  lines  are  firmly  brac'd. 

Thus  a  wise  taylor  is  not  pinching. 

But  turns  at  every  seam  an  inch  in  ; 

Or  else,  be  sure,  your  broad-cloth  breeches 

Will  ne'er  be  smooth,  nor  hold  their  stitches. 

Thy  vei-se,  like  bricks,  defy  the  weather. 

When  smooth'd  by  rubbing  them  together  ; 

Thy  words  so  closely  wedg'd  and  short  ^re 

Like  walls,  more  lasting  without  mortar : 

By  leaving  out  the  needless  vowels. 

You  save  the  charge  of  lime  and  trowels. 

One  letter  still  another  locks, 

Each  groov'd  and  do^'etaiPd  like  a  box. 
Thy  Muse  is  tuckt-up  and  succinct ; 

In  chains  thy  syllables  are  linkf ; 

Thy  words  together  ty'd  in  small  hanks. 

Close  as  the  Macedonian  phalanx ; 

Or  like  the  umbo  of  the  Romans, 

Which  fiercest  foes  could  break  by  no  means. 

The  critic  to  his  grief  will  find. 

How  firmly  these  indentures  bind. 

So,  in  the  kindred  painter's  art, 

The  shortening  is  the  nicest  part. 

Philologers  of  future  ages. 
How  will  they  pore  upon  thy  pages  ! 
Nor  will  they  dare  to  break  the  joints. 
But  help  thee  to  be  read  with  points : 
Or  else,  to  show  their  learned  labour,  you 
May  backward  be  perus'd  like  Hebrew, 
Where  they  need  not  Jose  a  bit 
Or  of  thy  harmony  or  wit 
To  make  a  work  completely  fine. 
Number  and  weight  and  measure  join ; 
Then  all  must  grant  your  lines  are  weighty. 
Where  thirty  weigh  as  much  as  eighty. 
All  must  allow  your  numbers  more. 
Where  twenty  lines  exceed  fourscore ; 
Nor  can  we  think  your  measure  short, 
M^here  less  than  forty  fill  a  quact. 
With  Alexandrian  in  the  close, 
Long,  long,  long,  long,  like  Dan's  long  nose. 


GEORG  E'NJMrPA  N-DEA  N'S 

iNvrrATioir  to  thomas  shbridan. 

Gaulstown,  Aug.  2d,  1721.    ' 
Dear  Tom,  this  verse,  which,  however  the  begin^ 

ning  may  appear,  y^  in  the  end  *s  good  metre^ 
is  sent  to  desire  that,  when  your  August  vacation 
comes,  jomfri4ndi  you  'd  meet  h<rt* 
E  bS 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4*20 


SWIFTS  POEMS; 


For  why  sbonld  ycm  sUy  m  that  filthy  hole,  1  meao 

the  city  to  smoky  ^ 
Wbeo  you  have  not  one  friend  left  in  town,  or  at 

least  not  one  that 's  icf«y,  to  joke  w'  ye  f 
Pot,  as  fin-  honest  John  >,  though  I  'm  notsureon  % 

yet  I  'U  be  hang'd,  lest  he 
Be  gone  down  to  the  county  of  Wexford  with  that 

great  peer  the  lord  Anglesey, 
Oh !  but  £  fbii^it;  perhaps,  by  this  time,  you  may 

have  one  come  to  town,  but  I  don't  know  whether 

he  be  friend  or/(Mr, -De^if  •• 
But,  however,  if  he  be  come,  bring  him  down,  and 

you  shall  go  back  in  a  fortnight,  for  1  know  there  *8 

no  delaying  ye. 
Oh!  1  forgot  too  vfbelicTC  there  may  he  one  more: 

I  mean  that  great  fafrjoker, /ri«n<i  HeUharn^he 
That  wrote  the  prologue  «,  and  if  you  stay  with  him, 

dep^  on  't,  in  the  end,  ke  HI  sham  ye. 
Bring  down  Long  Shanks  Jim  too;    but,  now  I 

think  on  %  he  's  not  yet  come  from  €ourtown,  J 

fancy;  .  » 

For  I  heard,  a  month  ago,  that  he  waa.down  there 

n-courting  sly  Nancy.  .  .      j 

However,  bring  down  yourself,  and  yon  bnpg  down 

all ;  for,  to  say  it  toe  rnay  venture, 
Ip  thee  Dclany's  spleen,  John's  mirth,  Heteham  s 

jokes,  and  the  soft  loul  of  amorous  Jemmy,  centre, 

POSTSCKIFT. 

I  had  forgot  to  desire  you  to  bring  down  what  I  say 
you  haW,  and  you  '11  belieremeassoreasagHii, 

and  own  it ;  .,....- 

1  mean,  what  no  other  mortal  in  the  universe  can 

boast  of,  ymir  own  spirit  of  pun,  aadown  vni. 
^nd  now  I  hope  you  >ll  cxeuse  this  rhymk^,  which 

I  must  say  is  (though  written  soosewbat  at  large) 

trim  and  clean ; 
And  so  I  conclude,  wHh  humble  respects  as  usual. 

Your  most  dutifid  and  ebedient 

Ocorge*Nim-JD«s-Dean. 


TO 

QEORGE'NtM'DAN'DEJlK,  ESA. 

OPOM  HIS  mCOMPAlASLS  VsSSIS,  &C. 
ST   Ml.  WtAHY,  W  SBiaUIAll'S  MAM*  «. 

Hail,  human  compound  quadrifarimtf, 

Invincible  as  wight  Bnaieus . 

Hail '  dotibly-dooblod  nugfaty  merry  oni, 

Sronger  than  tripte-hodyd  Geryon ! 

O  may  your  vastness  deign  t»««cuit 

The  pralres  of  a  puny  Mnje, 

Unable,  in  her  utmost  flfght, 

To  reach  thy  huge  Colossian  height 

1  Supposed  to  be  Dr.  Walmsley.  ^^ 

fibSspSenbyyoiaig^itk^ 
HirtXJiytwr;  in  which  Dr.  ShendaH  (who  hadwrrt- 
S2Tp&e  for  the  occasion)  wMinoiton^cpect. 
XSdSregiously  laughed  at    Both  the  ^ 
J^  are  p^ted  m  the  Supplement  to  9wiC$ 

Works.    JV.  .    ^    1 

»  These  were  all  written  m  drcMS. 


T  attempt  to  write  Kke  tiiee  were  ftmnt!*^ 
Whose  lines  are,  Uke  thyself,  gigantic 

Yet  let  me  bless,  in  humbler  strain, 
Thy  vast,  thy  bold  Carabysian  vein, 
Pour'd  out  t'  enrich  thy  native  ide. 
As  ^ypt  wont  to  be  with  Nile. 
Oh,  how  I  joy  to  see  thee  wander. 
In  many  a  winding  loose  meander, 
In  circling  mazes,  smooth  and  supple, 
And  ending  in  a  clmk  quadruple  ; 
Loud,  yet  agreeable  withal. 
Like  rivers  rattling  in  thdr  &I1 1 
Thine,  sure,  is  poetry  divine. 
Where  wit  and  majesty  combine ; 
Where  every  line,  as  huge  as  seven^ 
If  stretcVd  in  length  would  reach  to  HearcBa 
Here  all  comparing  would  be  slandering. 
The  least  is  more  than  Alexandrine. 

Against  thy  verse  Tune  sees  with  pam. 
He  whets  his  envious  scythe  inTsin ; 
For,  though  from  thee  he  much  may  parct 
Yet  much  thou  still  will  have  to  spare. 

Thou  hast  alone  the  skill  to  foait 

With  Roman  elegance  of  tsate, 

Who  hast  of  rhymes  as  vast  resooreei       ' 
As  Pompey's  caterer  of  courses. 

Oh  thou,  of  all  the  Nine  inspiiM ! 
My  languid  soul,  with  teaching  tir^ 
How  is  it  raptur'd,  when  it  thinks 
On  thy  harmonious  sets  of  clinks ; 
Each  answering  each  in  various  rhymet, 
Like  echo  to  St  Patrick's  chimes : 

Thy  Mnse,  miyestic  in  her  rage^ 
Moves  liV.' Statira  on  the  sta^e; 
And  scarcely  can  one  page  sustain 
The  length  of  such  a  flowing  tnin: 
Her  train,  of  variegated  dye. 
Shows  like  Thaumantia*8  m  the  ^ ; 
Alike  they  glow,  alike  they  please. 
Alike  imprest  by  Phflebus*  raya. 

Thy  verie— ( Ye  gods  I  I  caunot  bear  d| 
Tu  what,  to  what  shall  I  compare  it  ? 
Tis  like,  what  1  have  oft'  beard  spoke  od» 
The  famous  statue  of  Laoooon. 
Tis  like-— O  yes,  'tis  very  like  it, 
niie  long,  long  string,  with  which  yoa  fly  luttt* 
Tis  like  what  you,  and  one  or  two  OMce, 
Koar  to  your  echo  >  in  good-humour; 
And  every  couplet  thou  hast  writ 
Conchide  like  kaUah-mkktak-wkit  \ 


WO  MR.  THOMAS  SHERWAH. 
VPOH  ■»  Tjtasu  wmrmH  w  cuctEt, 

»T  n«.  SWIFT. 

It  new  waa  knosm  ttetoinialarlrtlM«, 
By  h«MbU  oonnni^an,  went  ant  to  liwiriiflPTi : 
And,  as  to  the  subject,  our  jadoMat,  mekw^t. 
Is  this,  that  you  argue  likefoob  in  a  cirele. 
But  now  for  ynor  teiaes ;  jirfAsli^yoii,  Myn'y>t  ^ 
The  segment  so  large  twfcrt  ynqr   rtMSP  ^•* 
rfayne  tt. 


•  At  Oaolstown  there  It  a  tmf^^ifftjf  \ 


,     Digitized  by  VjOOQ IC 


DAN  JACKSON'S  PICTURE. 


421 


lliat  we  wilk  all  aboot^  Hke  abcMrae  in  a  poond, 
AaA,  bdbre  we  find  dither,  our  nuddltis  tarn  round. 
Suflkaent  it  were,  one  would  think,  in  your  mad  rant, 
7V>  give  us  your  measores  of  line  by  a  quadrant. 
Bat  we  took  our  dividerB^  and  found  your  d — n*d 
In  each  single  Terse  took  up  a  diagieter.      [metre. 
But  how,  Mr.  Shendan,  came  you  to  yentnre 
George,  Ban,  Dean,  and  Nim,  to  place  in  the 

oentrei? 
•Twill  appear,  to  yomr  cost,  you  are  faiHy  trepann*d 
For  the  chord  of  your  circle  is  now  in  their  hand ; 
The  chord,  or  the  radius,  it  ikiatters  not  whether. 
By  which  yonr  jade  Psgasus,  fixt  id  a  tether, 
Ai  her  betters  are  us'd,  shall  be  lash'd  round  the 
ring,  [string. 

Three  fellows  with  whips,  and  the  dean  holds  the 
Will  Hancock  dnckres,  you  are  out  of  your  com- 
To  encroach  on  his  art  by  writing  of  bombass  ;  [pass . 
And  has  taken  juM  now  a  firm  resolotioa 
To  answer  your  style  without  civeumkxmtion. 

Lady  Bettys  presents  you  her  serrieemosthnmble. 
And  is  not  afraid  yonr  worship  will  grumble,  [Tam  \ 
That  she  makes  of  your  verses  a  hoop  for  miss 
Which  is  all  at  present;  and  so  I  remain— 


ON  DR.  SHEHIDAIPS^ 

CnCULAl  TEMIi. 
BY  MS.  GIOROB  ROCHPOIT. 

With  music  and  poetry  equally  blest, 
A  bard  thus  Apollo  most  humbly  addrest : 
*'  Great  author  of  harmdhy,  Terses,  and  light ! 
Assisted  by  thee,  I  both  fiddle  and  write. 
Yet  unheeded  I  scrape,  or  I  scribble  all  day ; 
My  Terse  is  neglected,  my  tune  's  throiro  away. 
Thy  substitute  here,  Vice- Apollo  >,  disdains 
To  Touch  for  my  numbers,  or  list  to  my  strains.; 
Thy  manual  signet  refuses  to  put 
To  the  airs  I  produce  from  the  pen  or  the  gut. 
Be  thou  then  prophSoos,  great  Pticebus,  and  grant 
Belief,  or  reward,  to  my  merit,  or  want 
Though  the'Dean  and  Delaoytranseendently  shine, 
O  brighten  one  solo  or  sonnet  of  miiie  i       [abode : 
With  them  Tm  content  thou  sbould'st  make  thy 
But  Tisit  thy  servant  in  jig  or  hi  ode. 
Hake  one  woik  immortal ;  'tis  all  I  request" 
Apollo  look*d  pleased ;  and  resolving  to  jest, 
Reply'd,  «*  Honest  friend,  I  've  considered  thy  case ; 
Nor  dislike  thy  well-meanmg  and  humourous  fece. 
Thy  petition  I  grant:  tbe  boon  is  not  great: 
Thy  works  shall  contfone ;  and  here  's  the  receipt 
On  rondeaus  hereafter  thy  fiddle  strings  spend  t 
Write  verses  in  circles  i  they  never  8faaliead«» 


LJN  JACKSON'S  PICTURE, 

CUT  IN  SI  IK  AKD  PAnSi. 

To  feir  lady  Betty,  Dan  sat  fbt  his  picture. 

And  dcfy'd  her  to  draw  him  sooft'  as  heptqu'd  her. 

1  Their  figures  were  in  the  centre  of  the  Teoeg. 

<  The  lady  of  George  Rochfert,  esq. 

s MissThompMB,  lady  Betty^s dau^iteb- 

1  See  Apollo  to  the  DCBO,  p.  409. 


He  knew  she  *d  no  pencil  or  cdooring  by  her. 
And  therefore  he  tboaght  he  migiit  sa^el^r  defy  her. 
Cdme  sit,  says  my  lady  ;  then  whips  up  her  s^ssar* 
And  cuts  out  his  cuKcomb  in  si tk  in  a  trice,  sir. 
Oan  sat  with -attention,  and  saw  with  surprise  [eyef; 
How  she  lengthenM  his  chin,  howsheholk>w'dbir 
But  flatter'd  himself  with  a  secret  conceit. 
That  hi^  thin  jantem  jaws  all  her  art  would  d(tfMt», 
Lady  Betty  obsenr'd  it,  then  poib  out  a  pin. 
And  varies  the  grain  of  the  stuff  to  his  grin  ; 
And,  to  make  roasted  silk  to  /esemble  his  raW'booe» 
She  raised  up  a  ^u^ead  to  the  jet  of  his  jaw  bone; 
Till  at  length  in  exactest  proportion  he  n^. 
Prom  the  crown  of  his  head  ip  the  arch  of  his  nose. 
And  if  lady  Betty  had  drawn  him  with  wig  and  all« 
*Tis  certaiik  thtf  copy  had  out-done  the  origioaL 

Well  ,that*s  but  my  outside,  saysDan  with  a  vapotm  ^ 
Say  you  so,  says  nky  lady;  I  *ve  Ihi'd  it  with  pape^ 
Patr.  DeUm^MM^ 


ON  THE  SAME  PICTURE.      • 

Clabissa  draws  her  scissars  from  the  case. 
To  draw  the  lines  of  poor  Dan  Jackson*s  fece. 
One  sloping  cut  made  forehead,  nose,  and  chin  ; 
A  nick  produced  a  mouth,  and  made  him  grin. 
Such  as  in  taylors'  measure  you  have  seen. 
But  still  were  wanting  his  grimalkin  eyes. 
For  which  grey  wortftod-stocking  paint  supplies. 
Th'  unravei'd  thread  through  needle's  eye  eonvej* 
Transferred  itself  into  his  paste-board  head. 
How  came  the  scissars  to  be  thus  out-done  ? 
The  needle  had  an  eye,  and  they  had  none. 
O  wondrous  force  of  art !  now  look  at  Dan— 
You  *l\  swear  the  paste-board  was  the  better  man. 
*'  The  devil !"  says  he,  "  the  head  is  not  so  full  !** 
Indeedrit  iSi--behold  the  paper  skull. 

Tho.  Sheridan  ica{^ 


ON  THE  SAME  PICTURE. 

Dan*s  evil  genius  in  a  trice 

Had  stripped  him  of  his  coin  at  dice. 

Chloe,  observing  this  disgrace. 

On  Pam  cut  out  his  rueful  feoe. 

«•  By  O— ,"  says  Dan,  "  'tis  very  hard. 

Cut  out  at  dio^,  cut  out  at  card  ! ' 

G.  Rochfort<c«^ 


ON  THE  SAME  PICTURE. 

Whilst  you  three  merry  poets  traffic 

To  give  us  a  description  graphic 

Of  Dans*s  large  nose  m  modem  Sapphic; 

I  spend  my  time  in  making  sermon^ 

Or  writing  libels  on  the  Germans, 

Or  murmuring  at  Whigs'  preferments. 

But  when  I  would  find  rhyme  for  Rochfoit, 

And  look  in  English,  Ftooch,  and  Scotch  isr't 

At  last  I  'm  feurly  forc'd  to  botch  for 't 

Bid  lady  Betty  recollect  her. 

And  tell,  who  was  it  ooukl  direct  he 

To  draw  ttie  face  oCtuah  a  ^ectt* 


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422 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


I  inus?t  confess,  that  as  to  me,  sirs. 
Though  I  ne'er  saw  her  hold  the  scIssarF, 
I  now  conid  safely  swear  it  is  hers. 
Ti»  true,  no  nose  could  come  in  better; 
lis  a  vast  subject  stuff 'd  with  maUer, 
Which  all  may  handle,  none  can  flatter. 
Take  courage,  Dan;  this  plainly  shows. 
That  not  the  wisest  mortal  knows 
Wliat  fortune  may  befall  his  nose. 
Show  me  the  brisrUtest  Irish  toast, 
Who  from  licr  lover  e'er  could  boast 
Above  a  son  j,  or  two  at  most ; 
For  thee  three  poets  now  are  drudging  all 
To  praise  the  cheeks,  chin,  nose,  the  bridge  and  all. 
Both  of  the  picture  and  originaL 
Thy  nose's  length  and  fame  escteod 
So  far,  dear  Dau,  that  every  friend 
Tries  who  shall  have  it  by  the  end. 
And  future  poets,  as  they  rise,    * 
Shall  r^ad  with  envy  and  surprise 
Thy  nose  outshining  Ccelia's  eyes. 

Jon.  Surift. 


DAN  XACKSOX'S  DEFENCE. 

My  Terse  little  better  you  '11  find  than  my  face  is. 
A  word  to  the  vlse-^ut  pictura  poesis, 

Thrtee  merry  lads,  with  envy  stung. 
Because  Dan's  face  is  better  hung, 
CoffibiuM  in  verse  to  rhyme  it  down. 
And  in  its  place  set  up  their  owh  j 
As  if  they  'd  run  it  down  much  better 
By  number  of  their  feet  in  metre. 
Or  that  its  red  did  cause  their  spite, 
Which  made  them  draw  in  black  and  wbke. 
Be  that  as  'twill,  this  is  most  true, 
.  They  were  in$.pir'd  by  what  tliey  drew. 
Let  them  such  critics  know,  my  face 
fJives  thetn  their  comeliness  and  giace: 
WTiilst  every  line  of  face  doe*  bring 
A  line  of  grarc  to  what  they  sing. 
But  yet,  niethinks,  thoiijrh  witli  disgrace 
Both  to  the  picture  and  the  face, 
I  should  name  them  who  do  rehearse 
The  story  of  the  picture-farce ; 
The  squire,  in  French  as  hard  as  stone, 
Oi*  strong  as  rock,  that  *s  all  as  one, 
On  face,  on  cards  is  very  brisk,  sirs. 
Because  on  them  you  play  at  whisk,  Hirs. 
But  much  I  wonder,  why  my  crany 
Should  envy'd  be  by  De-e!-any  : 
And  yet  much  more,  that  half-name  sake 
Should  join  a  party  in  tlie  fpeak ; 
For  sure  I  am  It  was  not  safe 
Thus  to  abuse  his  better  half, 
As  I  shall  )rove  you,  Dan,  to  be, 
Diohim  and  coryuhctively. 
For  if  Dan  love  not  Sberiy,  can 
Sherry  be  any  .thing  to  Dan  ? 
This  is  the.  case  whene'er  you  see 
Dan  makes  nothins:  of  Sherry ; 
Or  shotdd  I>an  be  by  Sherry  o'erta'en 
Then  Dan  would  be  poor  Sherridanc  :  * 
'Tjs  hafd  then  he  should  be  decry'd 
By  Dan  with  Sherry  by  his  side. 


But,  if  the  case  nrast  be  so  hard^ 
That  ^es  suffer  by  a  card. 
Let  critics  censure,  what  care  I  ? 
Back-biters  only  we  defy : 
Faces  are  firee  from  injury. 


MiL  ROCHFORT'S  REPLY, 

Vou  say  your  face  is  better  bong 

Than  ours — ^by  what  ?  by  nose  or  tongue  ? 

In  not  explaining,  you  are  wrong 

to  us,  sir. 
Because  we  thus  most  state  the  case. 
That  yoabftve  got  a  hangrag  face, 
Th*  untimely  end  's  a  damn'd  disgrace 

of  I 
But  yet  be  not  cast  down :  I  see 
A  weaver  will  your  hangman  be ; 
You  'U  only  haog  in  tapestry 

withi 

And  then  the  ladies,  T  suppose. 
Will  praise  your  longitude  of  nose. 
For  latent  charms  within  your  cloUies 

dear  Dumy. 
Thos  will  the  ii^r  of  every  age 
From  all  parts' make  their  pilgrimage. 
Worship  thy  nose  with  pious  rage 

oC  lov]e,  sir. 
All  their  religion  will  be  spen€ 
About  thy  woven  mronnment^ 
And  not  one  orison  be  sent  , 

to  Jore,  sir- 
Von  the  famM  idol  will  become, 
As  gardens  grac'd  in  aneient  Rome, 
By  matrons  worsbip'd  in  the  gloom 

of  night. 
O  happy  Dan  !  thrice  happy  sure ! 
Thy  fame  for  ever  shall  endure. 
Who  after  death  can  love  secure 

at  sight. 
So  far  I  thought  it  was  my  duty 
To  dwelt  upon  thy  boasted  beauty ; 
Now  i  'II  proceed  a  word  or  two  t'  ye, 

in  answer 
To  that  par^  where  you  carry  on 
This  |iacadox,  that  rock  and  stoue   . 
lu  your  opinion  are  all  one. 

How  can,  sir, 
A  man  of  reasouiog  so  profound 
So  stupidly  be  nm  aground, 
As  things  so  differently  lo  eonfeund 

t*  our  senses  * 
Except  you  judg'd  them  by  the  knock 
Of  near  an  equal  hardy  block : 
Such  an  experimental  stroke 

coprioces. 
Then  might  you  be,  by  dhit  of  reason, 
A  proper  judge  on  this  occaskm  ; 
»Gainst  feeling  there  's  no  disputation, 

\    is  granted.'  • 
Therefbre  to  thy  superior  wit. 
Who  made  the  trial,  we  snbmit ; 
Thy  head  to  prove  the  truth  of  it 

we  wapted,' 


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DR.  DELANyS  REPLY. 


425 


Id  one  assertioa  yoo  're  to  Uame, 
Where  Dan  and  Sherry'  's  made  the  tame. 
Endeavoormg  to  have  your  name 

'        refin*d,  sir. 

Ton  '11  see  most  grossly  you  mistook : 
If  you  consult  your  spelling-buok, 
(The  better  half  you  say  you  took) 

you  Ul  find,  «r. 

S,  H,  E,  the — and  R,  I,  ri, 
Both  put  together  make  i^A^rry  ; 
D^  A,  N,  l>aa-— makes  up  the  three 

syUableSk 
Dan  is  but  one,  and  Sherri  two; 
Then,  sir,  your  choice  will  never  do; 
Therefore  I  *ve  tumM,  my  friend,  on  you 

the  tables.. 


DR.  DELANY'S  REPLY. 

Assist  me,  my  Muse,  whilst  1  labour  to  limn  him : 
■  Credite,  PisoiuSf  isti  tabuUt  persimiUm. 
You  look  and  you  write  with  so  different  a  grace, 
That  I  envy  your  verse,  though  I  did  not  your  fiice. 
And  to  him  that  thinks  righUy/ there  reason  enough, 
'Cause  one  is  as  smooth  as  the  other  is  rough. 

But  much  I  'm  amaz'd  you  should  thjnk  my  design 
Was  to  iliyme  down  your  nose,  or  your  Harlequm 

grin. 
Which  you  yourself  wonder  the  de*e]  should  malign. 
And  if  'tis  so  strange,  that  your  monstership*s  crany 
Should  be  envy^d  by  him,  much  less  by  Delaoy. 
Though  I  own  to  yon,  when  I  consider  it  stricter, 
I  envy  the  painter,  although  not  the  picture. 
And  justly  she 's  envjr'd,  since  a  fiend  of  Hell 
Was  never  drawn  right  but  by  her  aiid  Raphael. 

Next,  as  to  the  charge,  which  you  tell  us  is  true. 
That  we  were  inspir'd  by  the  subject  we  drew; 
Inspir'd  we  were,  and  well,  sir,  you  knew  it, 
Yet  not  by  your  nose,  "but  the  fair  one  that  drew  it : 
Had  your  nose  been  the  muse,  we  had  ne^er  been 
inspir'd,  [fir*d. 

Though  perhaps  it  might  justly  've  been  said  we  were 

As  to  the  division  of  words  in  your  staves, 
like  my  countryman's  horn-comb,  into  three  halves, 
I  meddle  not  with  t,  but  presume  to  make  merry. 
You  cali'd  Dun  one  half,  and  t*other  half  Shefry  ; 
Now  if  Dan  's  a  *alf,  as  you  call  *t  o'er  and  o'er. 
Then  it  can't  be  deny'd  that  Sherry  's  two  more : 
For  pray  give  me  leave  to  say,  sir,  for  all  you. 
That  Sherry  's  at  least  of  double  the  value. 
But  perfai^,  sir;  you  did  it  to  fill  up  the  verse : 
So  crowds  in  a  concert  (like  actors  in  farce) 
Play  two  p^rts  hi  one,  when  scrapers  are  scarce. 
But  be  that  as  'twill,  you  '11  know  more  anon,  sir,  . 
When  Sheridan  sends' to  Merry  Dau  answer. 


SHERIDAN'S  REPLY. 

Tbrsi  merry  lads  you  own  we  are ; 
Tis  very  true,  and  free  from  care ; 
But  envious  we  cannot  bear, 

believe,  8ir« 
For,  were  alT  forms  of  beauty  thine, 
Were  you  like  Nereus  soft  and  fine. 
We  should  not  in  the  least  repine, 

or  grieve,  sir. 


Then  know  from  us,  mosttheauteous  Dan, 
Thai  roughness  best  becomes  a  man ; 
Tis  women  should  be  pale  and  wan, 

'  and  taper. 

And  all  your  trifling  beaux  and  fops. 

Who  comb  their  brows,  and  sleek  their  chops. 

Are  but  the  ofiispnag  of  toy -shops, 

meer  vapour. 

We  know  your  morning-hours  you  pass 

To  cull  and  gather  out  a  face  f 

Is  this  the  way'you  take  your  glass  ? 

Forbear  it 

Those  loads  of  point  upon  your  toilet. 
Will  never  mend  yonr  face,  but  spoil  it ; 
It  looks  as  if  you  did^par-boil  it : 

Drink  claret 
Your  cheeks,  by  sleeking,  are  so  lean 
That  they  're  like  Cynthia  in  the  wane. 
Or  breast  of  goose  when  'tis  pick'd  clean, 

or  pullet 
See  what  by  drinking  you  hare  done : 
You  've  made  your  phi^  a  skeleton. 
From  the  long  distance  of  your  crown 

'  t'  your  gullet ! 


A  REJOINDER, 

BY  THE   DEAN,    IN   JACK80N*S   NAME.    ' 

Wbabieo  with  saying  grace  and  prayer, 
I  hastbn  down  to  coimtry  air. 
To  read  your  answer,  aud  prepare 

reply  to  't 

But  your  fair  lines  so  grossly  flatter. 
Pray  do  they  praise  me,  or  bespatter  ; 
It  must  suspect  you  mean  the  latter-^ 

Ah!  sly-bootl 
It  must  be  so  !  what  else,  alas. 
Can  nl^ean  by  culling  of  a  face. 
And  all  that'stuff  of  toilet,  glass, 

and  boK-comb  ? 
But  be  't  as  'twill,  t^is  you  must  grant,  • 
That  you  *re  a  dawb,  whilst  I  but  paint ;  • 
Then  which  of  us  two  is  the  quaint- 
er coxcomb? 
I  value  not  your  jokes  of  noose. 
Your  gibes,  and  all  yonr  foul  abuse, 
More  than  the  dirt  Jbeneath  my  shoes, 

nor  fear  it. 
Yet  one  thing  vexes  me,  I  own, 
Thou  sorry  scare-crow  of  skm  and  bone ; 
To  be  cail'd  lean  by  a  skeleton, 

who'd  hear  itf 
Tis  true  indeed,  to  curry  fi-iends. 
You  seem  to  praise,  to  make  amends. 
And  jret,  before  your  stanza  ends, 

-  you^out  m 
'Bout  latent  cbarms  beneath  my  clothes; 
For  every  one  that  knows  me  knows 
That  I  have  Aothiig  like  my  nose 

about  m«. 
I  pass  now  where  3  ou  fleer  and  laugh, 
'Cause  I  all  Dan  my  better  half! 
Q)i  ther  eyou'  think  you  liave  me  safe ! 

'    '  •  Btit  hold,  sir. 


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424' 


SWIFTS  POCKS. 


Is  not  a  'pg&ay  often  Ibanfl 

To  be  much  mater  than  a  'poand  ? 

By  your  good  leave,  my  molt  prolbiifid 

and  bold,  air. 
Dan  '8  noble  mettle,  Sherry  base  5 
So  Dad  *s  th^  better,  though  the  less : 
An  ounce  of  gold 's  Worth  ten  of  brass, 

dull  pedant ! 

As  to  your  speUbg,  tet  toe  see. 

If  SHE  makes  *A^,  and  RI  Dnakes  ry, 

Good  spcUing-master !  yoarcrany 

has  lead  oot. 


ANOTHER  REJOINDER, 

BT  TUC  PSAH,  IK  JACKSO)C*S  KaMB. 

Trieb  d«y8  for  answer  I  have  waited  ; 
I  thought  an  aoe  yott  Hliife'er  have  b*ted  | 
And  art  thou  forced  to  yield,.  iU-foted 

poeUiter? 

Henceforth  acimowledge,  that  a  nose 
Of  thy  dimension  's  fit  for  prose ; 
But  every  one  that  Idiows  Dan,  knows 

thy  master. 

Blush  for  ill-spelling,  for  ill-lines. 
And  6y  5*ith  hurry  to  ratnines; 
Thy  fiune,  thy  genius  now  dechnes, 

proud  boaster. 

I  hear  with  some  eoBOem  yoa  rear, 
And  fty  ng  think  to  quit  the  score 
By  clapping  billets  on  your  door 

and  poBtoy  sir. 

Thy  rum,  Tom,  K  nerer  neanfc; 

I  'm  grievM  to  bear  your  banishment. 

But  plcas'd  to  fifid  you  do  relent 

and  cry  on. 

I  maul'd  you,  whm  yea  Igok*d  so  \Mt, 
But  now  1  '11  secret  keep  3rour  stuff; 
For  know,  proatration  is  eooogl^ 

toth*l«»« 


8HERWAN*S  SUBMISSION. 

VT  WB  MAlt. 


Cede  jam,  miserss 
9i  risca  est,  ubi  tu 


ego  vapulo  taoti^n. 


Poos  Sherry,  mgloricut 
To  Dan  the  victorious. 
Presents,  as  His  fttUng, 
PetHknand  greeting. 

TO  yon  fictorivus  and  brave. 

Your  now-subdued  and  suppliant  flava 

Most  humbly  sues  for  pardon  ; 
Who  when  I  fought  still  cut  me  i(mja, 
And  irhen  I  vanished  fled  the  town, 

Pursued  and  laid  me  hard  On. 
Now  lowly  crouch'd  I  cry  peccavi. 
And  prostrate  suf^Ucate  povr  ma  vi§  : 

Your  iqArcy  I  rely  on  ; 


For  yoQ,  my  ouuquifAr  isiB  f9f  Kfe^ 
In  pardoning,  as  m  poiMhfO^ 
Will  shoi^  yonnelf  a  iKMk 

Alas!  sir,  1  had  no  design. 
But  was  nnwarily  drawtf  h> ; 

For  spite  I  ne'er  had  any : 
Twas  the  damn'd  'sqvire  witb  tl»  bac€ 
The  de'el  tbo  that  ow*d  me  a  shame. 

The  devil  and  Oelany ; 
They  tempted  me  t*  attack  yoer 
And  then,  with  wonted  wile  and 

They  Mt  me  in  the  larch : 
Unhappy  wretch  !  f»r  new,  I 
I  've  nothing  left  to  vant  my  splea» 

But  fenda  and  birch  : 
And  they,  rias !  yield  small  relief. 
Seem  rather  to  renew  my  grief; 

My  wounds  bleed  ^  anew: 
F9r  every  stioke  goes  to  my  heart. 
And  at  each  lash  1  feel  the  smart 

Oflaslilaidesiby  yon. 


TO   TUB 

MSV.  JXdNIEL  J4CSSQ»i 


TO  m 

son,  wrni  bbstbct,  cabb,  *ir»  snan. 

Dbab  Daw, 

Hebb  !itittimaq»rat»inr«li 

Otaa  penny  for  laQittRaeB ; 
Ifl  have  well  pBffbivi'd  Bay  task, 

PrBy  BBttd  me  an  aequittsiiQa^ 
Too  long  I  bore  this  weighty  paak. 

As  Hereules  the  sky ; 
Now  take  him  yon,  Dan  Attain  hMfc, 

Let  me  be  stander-by. 

Not  all  the  witty  thing*  y<m  ^peak 

In  compass  of  a  day, 
Nojt  half  the  puns  you  make  a  wo^ 

Should  bribe  his  longer  stfty. 

With  me  you  M  him  out  at  numk 

Yet  are  y#u  net  my  daktor  ; 
For,  as  he  hardly  can  be  waise, 

tne'er  om/jid  make  him  bellsr. 
He  Aymes  aad  piMM,  and  puns  aad  HiyMli, 

JustashedldbeibPa; 
And,  when  be  «s  ktfkM  a  hnodrad  IhMB, 

He  rhymes  and  pons  the  mora. 
When  rods  are  laid  00  school-boys  buns. 

The  ioort  they  frisk  and  slnp : 
The  school-boy's  top  but  louder  hums 

The  more  they  Yisa  tke  vhip* 
Thus,  a  lean  beast  beneatii  a  kMd 

(A  beast  of  Irish  breed) 
Will,  in  a  tedkms,  diity  road, 

Outgo  the  pranemg  steed. 

You  knodc  him  down  and  down  m  viii^ 

And  lay  ^im  flat  bdbre  ye  ; 
For,  soon  as  he  gets  np  agaia, 

Hft  *U  ftmty  and  cry,  l^idsria  ; 


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snUA  TO  SWIFT. 


4M 


At  etery  ttnfte  oTbubbIm  Ml: 

lis  true  be  nmt'd  and  cry'd| 
Bat  his  impenetrable  shell 

Coold  feel  no  hasm  bttida. 
The  tortoise  tbos,  with  notion  Am, 

Will  clamber  ap  a  wall  $ 
Yet,  senseless  to  the  hardest  blow. 

Gets  nothing  bat  a  fell. 
Dear  Dan,  tnen,  why  should  yon,  or  I, 

Attack  his  pericrany  ? 
Andy  since  it  is  in  vain  to  try. 

We  '11  send  him  to  0elany. 


Lean  Tom,' when  I  saw  him,  last  week,  oo  his  hone 

awry, 
Threatened  loudly  to  torn  me  to  stone  with  his  sorcery. 
But,  I  think,  little  Pan,  that,  m  tp»$lit£iwb»t<Mr 

foe  says. 
He  will  find  I  read  Orid  and  his  Metamorphosis. 
For  omitting  the  first  (where  I  make  a  oomparisoo. 
With  a  sort  of  allusioa  to  Putland  >  or  Harrison) 
Yet,  by  my  description,  you  'II  find  he  m  short  is 
A  pack  and  a  garran,  a  top  and  a  tortoise. 
So  I  hope  from  henceforward  you  ne'er  wiH  a*, 

can  I  maul 
This  teasing,  conceited,  rude,  insolent  animal } 
And,  if  this  reboke  might  torn  lo  hb  benefit, 
(For  I  pity  the  man)  1  should  be  glad  then  of  it 


TO  DJL  SBKRWAJUt 

OK  HIS  AIT  OP  yUHniNCL 

Had  I  ten  thousaivl  mfmtht  and  tongue 
Had  I  ten  thousand  pair  of  lungs. 
Ten  thousand  KtdU  with  brtaru  to  thin^ 
Ten  thousand  standiihet  citnk. 
Ten  thousand  hands  and  pens,  to  write 
Thy  praise  /  *d  study  day  and  aigAl. 

Oh  may  thy  work  for  ever  live  1 
(Dear  Tom,  a  fiiendly  zeal  forgive) 
May  no  vile  miscreant  saucy  cook 
Proume  to  tear  thy  learned  book^ 
To  singe  his  Jowl  for  nicer  gues^ 
Or  pin  it  on  the  turkey's  breast. 
Keep  it  from  pasly  w*d  or  flying. 
From  broiling  steakt  or  fattersfryingg 
From  lighting  pipe,  or  making  snuff, 
Or  casing  up  u. feather  muff; 
From  all  the  several  ways  the  groctr 
(Who  to  the  learned  world  's  a  foe,  sir) 
Has  found  in  twisting,  foiUng,  packing. 
His  brains  and  ours  at  once  a  racking^ 
And  may  it  never  curl  the  head 
Of  either  living  block  or  dead  ! 
Thus,  when  all  dangers  thi^r  hssre  past. 
Your  Ustoes;  like  leaoes  of  brass,  shall  last, 
Ko  blattiii^fnak  «  crtOc'^s  h»mtk» 
By  vile  ir^ection,  cause  their  death. 
Till  they  in/aMe#  at  last  expire. 
And  helpt9M$thii  ^qrld  <m  ff* 


1  AOndiiig  to  Ite 
490. 


STELLA  TODR,  SH7FR 

OK  HIS  ■nrm-aaY,  nov.  80,  l^t# 

St.  Patnck's  dean,  your  country's  psi4» 

My  early  and  my  only  guide. 

Let  me  among  the  rest  attend. 

Your  pupil  and  your  humble  firiind« 

To  celebrate  in  female  strains 

The  day  that  paid  your  mother's  pmk$ 

Descend  to  take  that  tribute  daa 

In  gratitude  alone  to  you. 

When  men  began  to  call  me  Uit^ 
You  inteipos'd  your  timely  oars; 
You  early  taught  me  to  deapm 
The  ogling  of  a  coiiQomb^s  eyes ; 
Show'd  where  my  judgqaent  was  vok^M^i 
Refined  my  &ncy  and  my  taita. 

Behold  that  bea^y  jo^t  daff^'d» 
Invoking  art  to  nature's  aid : 
Forsook  by  her  admiring  train* 
She  spreads  her  tatter'd  nets  in  vain : 
Short  was  her  part  upon  the  stsfsi 
Went  smoothly  on  for  half  a  page  ; 
Her  bloom  was  gone,  she  waated  art. 
As  the  scene  chang'd,  to  change  her  part  < 
She,  wham  no  lover  eoald  resist. 
Before  the  seooad  act  was  hissed. 
Saoh  is  the  fiite  of  female  race 
With  no  endowmeafes  but  a  iaee; 
Before  the  thirtieth  year  of  life, 
A  maid  forlorn,  or  haled  wife. 

Stella  to  you,  her  tutor,  owes 
That  she  has  ne'er  fcseaUed  these; 
Nor  was  a  burden  to  mankind 
With  half  her  course  of  years  behind. 
You  Uught  how  I  «M«bt  yoolh  pMlaim^ 
By  knowing  what  na*  ci|^  md  wmmgi 
How  from  my  hmrtlo  bring  mpfiw 
Of  lustra  to  my  feding  ayes  ^ 
How  soon  a  beauteous  mind  repaiit 
The  loss  of  changed  or  felling  hairs; 
How  wit  and  virtue  from  within 
Send  out  a  smptlhesM  o'er  the  ski*  s 
Your  lectures  could  my  fimcy  fix, 
A^d  I  can  pIflMe  i^  thirtji-six. 
The  sight  of  Chbe  at  fi^eeit 
Coquetting,  gives  me  not  the  qpleeo  f 
The  idol  now  of  ewmf  foot. 
Till  time  shall  make  their  pawiinsi^  ; 
Then  tumblmg  4mm  tima?a  <8spy  tpH 
WhUe  Stella  holds  her  stotien  sill. 
Oh !  turn  yona  paeaefts  iate  la«% 
Redeem  the  women^  rttmfd,  caosei 
Retrieve  lost  empire  to  onr  aei. 
That  men  may  ham  their  mbal  asiht 

Long  be  tl»  dto^  thai  gspse  yoB  bistfe 
Sacred  to  friendship,  wit,  aai  mislhi 
;  Late  dying  may  yoa  oasfc  «  shred 
;  Of  your  rich  maaHa  tf er  my  head| 
To  bear  with  digni^  asy  sonwp. 
One  day  aUme,  then  die  tomtemmt 


TOaTRLLA, 
OK  muL  BunsnnAr,  VUttrt, 
WaiLB,  Stalla,  ta  yow  lartiog-paMM^ 
The  Muse  her  anmwi  haM^yy^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4S6 

While  I  aagSfoi  inywlf  a  task 
Which  yoM  expect,  but  acorn  to  ad:  { 
If  I  perffmn  this  task  with  pain, 
Let  rae  of  partial  fate  complaiD ; 
You  every  year  the  debt  enlarge, 
1  grow  les^  equal  to  the  charge  : 
In  yoo  each  virtue  brighter  shines. 
But  my  poetic  vein  declines ; 
Bfy  harp  wiU  sco  i  in  vain  be  strung. 
And  all  your  virtues  left  unsung: 
For  none  among  the  upstart  race 
Of  poets  dare  asiume  my  place ; 
Your  worth  will  be  to  them  tniknown. 
They  must  have  Stellas  of  their  own  j 
And  thus,  my  stock  of  wit  dtvay'd, 
I  dying  leave  the  debt  unpaid. 
Unless  Delany,  as  my  heir, 
WiU  answer  for  the  whole  arrear. 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


ON  THE  GREAT  BURIED  BOTTLE. 

BY  DB.   DELAKT. 

Ampbosa,  qufle  moestum  linquis,  Istumque  revises 
Arentem  dominum,  sit  tibi  terra  levis. 

Tu  quoque  depositum  serves,  neve  opprime,  mariDor; 
Amphoranun  merjiit  tarn  pretiota  mori 


EPITAPH, 

BY  TBI   SAMB. 


Hoc  tumnlata  jacet  proles  Lenasa  sepolchro, 
Immortale  genus,  nee  peritura  jacet; 

Quin  oritura  Hemin,  matriB  coocreditur  alvo ; 
Bis  Datum  leferunt  te  quoque,  Bacche  Pater. 


STELLA'S  BIRTH-DAY. 

A  OIBAT  BOTTLB  OP  WINB,    LOKO   BtTRIBO,   BBING 
THAT  DAY  DUO  UP.       1722-3. 

Rbmly'd  my  annual  verse  tapay,  ^ 
By  duty  bound,  on  Steila^s  day, 
^uniish'd  with  paper,  pens,  and  ink, 
I  gravely  sat  me  down  to  think  ; 
I  bit  my  nails,  and  scratched  my  bead^ 
But  found  my  wH  and  fancy  fled : 
Or  if,  with  more  than  usual  pain, 
A  thought  came  slowly  from  my  biain. 
It  cost  me  liOid  knows  how  much  time 
To  shape  it  into  sense  and  rhyme  : 
And,  what  was  yet  a  greater  curse. 
Long  thinking  made  my  fiuicy  worae. 

Forsaken  by  th  'inspiring  Nine, 
I  waited  at  Apollo's  shrine : 
I  told  him  what  the  world  would  say. 
If  Stella  weris  unsung  to-day ;    • 
How  I  should  hide  my  head  for  shame. 
When  both  the  Jacks  and  Rohm  came ; 
llow  Ford  would  frown,  how  Jim  would  leer; 
How  Sheridarn  the  rogue  would  sneer. 
And  swear  it  doek  not  always  follow. 
That  iemel  'n  anno  ridU  ApoUo.  . 


I  have  assured  them  twenty  timw,' 
That  Phosbus  help'd  me  in  my  rhymes  ; 
Phoebus  inspired  me  from  above, 
And  he  and  I  were  hand  and  glove. 
But,  finding  me  so  dull  and  dry  since. 
They  Ml  call  it  all  poetic  ticenc^; 
And,  when  I  brag  of  aid  divine. 
Think  Ensden's  right  as  good  as  mine. 

Nor  do  I  ask  for  Stella's  sake ; 
Tis  my  own  credit  lies  at  stake : 
And  Stella  will  be  simg,  white  I 
Can  only  be  a  staoder-i^. 

Apollo,  having  thought  a  littfe, 
Retum'd  this  answer  to  a  tittle. 

"  Though  3rou  should  live  like  old  MettiuBalefls, 
I  furnish  bints,  and  you  shall  use  all  'om. 
You  yeariy  sing  as  she  grows  old. 
You  'd  leave  her  virtues  half  untold. 
But,  to  say  truth,  such  dulness  reigns 
Through  the  whole  set  of  Irish  <feans, 
I'm  daily  stunned  with  such  a  medley. 
Dean  W — ,  dean  D — ,  and  dean  Sniedley, 
That,  let  what  dean  soever  come. 
My  orders  are,  I  'in  not  at  home ; 
And,  if  your  voice  had  not  been  loud. 
You  must  have  pass'd  among  the  crowd. 

"  But  now,  your  danger  to  prevent. 
You  must  apply  to  Mrs.  Brent ; 
For  she,  as  priestess,  knows  the  rites 
Wherein  the  god  of  earth  delights. 
First,  nine  wajrs  looking,  let  her  stand 
With  an  old  poker  in  her  hand ; 
Let  her  describe  a  circlie  round 
In  Saunders'  cellar,  on  the  ground  r 
A  spade  let  prudent  Archy  hold, 
And  with  discretion  dig  the  mould ; 
I>et  Stella  look  with  watchful  eye, 
Rebecca,  Ford,  and  Grattans  by. 

**  Behold  the  bottle,  where  it  lies 
With  neck  elated  towards  the  skies  1 
The  god  of  winds  and  god  of  fire 
Did  to  its  wondrous  birth  conspire ; 
And  Bacchus,  fbr  the  poet's  use, 
Pour'd  in  a  strong  inspiring  juic^. 
See  !  as  you  raise  it  from  its  tonib. 
It  drags  behind  a  spacious  womb» 
And  in  the  spacious  worah  contains 
A  sovereign  medicine  for  the  brains. 

**  You  '11  find  it  icon,  if  fate  consents  ; 
If  not,  a  thousand  Mrs.  Brents, 
Ten  thousand  Archys  arm^d  with  spades. 
May  dig  in  vara  to  Pluto's  shades. 

**  From  thence  a  plenteous  di-aught  infuse^ 
And  boldly  then  invoke  the  Muse 
(But  first  let  Bohert,  on  his  knees. 
With  caution  drain  it  from  the  lees)  : 
The  Muse  will  at  your  call  appear. 
With  Stella's  praise  to  crown  the  year.** 


A  SATIRICAL  ELEGY 

ON   TAB   DEATH   OP 

A  LATE  FAMOUS  GENERAL. 

Hig  grabe !  impossible  1  what  dead  !• 
Of  old  age  too,  and  in  hiii  bed  •' 


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DEAN  SMEDLErS  PETITION. 


427 


And  eould  that  mighty  warrior  fidl. 
And  so  inglorious,  after  all ! 
Well,  since  he  's  gone,  no  matter  hoir. 
The  last  loud  trump  must  wake  him  now : 
And,  trust  me,  as  the  noise  grows  stronger. 
He  'd  wish  to  sleep  a  little  longer. 
Aod  could  he  be  indeed  so  old 
As  by  the  news-papers  we  *re  told  } 
Threescore,  1  think,  is  pretty  high ; 
THras  time  in  conscience  he  should  die ! 
This  world  he  cumbered  long  enough. 
He  burnt  his  candle  to  the  snuff; 
And  that 's  the  reason,  some  folks  think. 
He  left  behind  so  great  a  s — k. 
Behold  •his  funerai  appears, 
Nor  widow's  sighs,  nor  orphan's  tears. 
Wont  at  such  times  each  heart  to  pierce. 
Attend  the  progress  of  his  hearse. 
But  what  of  that?  his  friends  may  say. 
He  had  those  honours  io  his  d&y. 
True  to  his  profit  and  his  pride. 
He  made  them  weep  before  he  dy'd. 
Come  hither,  all  ye  empty  things  ! 
Ye  bubbles  rais'd  by  breath  of  kings ! 
Who  float  upon  the  tide  of  state ;     - 
Come  hither,  and  behold  your  i^te. 
Let  pride  be  taught  by  this  rebuke, 
How  very  mean  a  thing  's  a  diike ; 
From  all  his  ill-got  honours  flung, 
Tum'd  to  that  dirt  from  whence  he  sprang. 


DEAN  SMEDLEY'S  PETITION 

TO  THB  DOKl  OP  CRAFTOIf. 

Non  domui  aut  fundus —        Hot. 

It  was,  my  loid,  the  dejjtrous  shift 
Of  t*  other  Jonathan,  viz.  Swift  j 
But  now  St  Patrick's  saucy  dean. 
With  silver  trerge  and  surplice  clean. 
Of  Oxford,  or  of  Ormond's  grace. 
In  looser  rhym€  to  beg  a  place. 
A  place  he  got,  yclept  a  stall. 
And  eke  a  thousand  pounds  withal ; 
And,  were  he  a  less  witty  writer, 
He  might  as  well  have  got  a  mitre. 

Thus  1,  the  Jonathan  of  Clogher, 
In  humble  lays  my  thanks  to  ofller. 
Approach  yoiir  grace  with  grateful  heart. 
My  thanks  and  verse  both  void  of  ait, 
Ccmtent  with  what  your  bounty  gave. 
No  laiiger  income  do  I  crave; 
Rejoicing  that,  in  better  times, 
Grafton  requires  my  loyal  Imes. 
Proud  !  while  my  patron  is  polite, 
I  likewise  to  the  patriot  write  ! 
Proud !  that  at  onoe  I  can  commend 
King  George's  and  the  Muses*  fnend  ! 
Endear'd  to  Britain;  and  to  thee 
(Disjoin'd,  Hibemia,  by  the  sea) 
Endear'd  by  twice  three  anxious  years, 
Employ'd  in  guardian  toils  and  cares  ; 
By  love,  by  wisdom,  and  by  skill; 
For  he  has  sav'd  thee  'gainst  thy  will. 

But  where  shall  Smedley  make  his  iiest. 
And  lay  his  wandering  head  to  rest } 


Where  shall  he  find  a  decent  hoose. 
To  treat  his  friends  and  cheer  his  spouse  ? 
Oh  !  tack,  my  lord,  some  pretty  cure  i 
In  wholsojue  soil,  and-ether  pure ; 
The  garden  stor'd  with  artless  flowers. 
In  either  angle  shady  bowers. 
No  gay  parterre,  with  costly  green. 
Within  the  ambient  hedge  be  seen : 
Let  Nature  freely  take  her  course. 
Nor  fear  from  me  ungrateftil  force ; 
No  sheers  shall  check  her«8prouting  figoor. 
Nor  shape  the  yews  to  antic  figure : 
A  limpid  brook  shall  trOut  supply. 
In  May,  to  take  the  mimic  fly ; 
Round  a  small  orchard  may  it  run. 
Whose  apples  redden  to  the  sun.  i^ 

Let  all  be  snug,  and  warm,  and  neat; 
For  fifty  tum'd  a  safe  retreat 
A  little  Euston  may  it  be, 
Euston  I  'II  carve  on  every  tree. 
But  then,  to  keep  it  in  repair. 
My  lord—- /lofcc^i^  pounds  a  year 
Will  barely  do ;  but  if  your  grace 
Could  make  them  Aundi«efs— charming  place  f 
Thou  then  wouldst  show  another  fisce. 
Clogher !  far  north,  my  lord,  it  lies. 
Midst  snowy  hills,  mclement  skies  ; 
One  shivers  with  the  arctic  wind ; 
One  hears  the  ^o/or  asis  grind. 
Good  John  '  indeed,  with  beef  and  claret. 
Makes  the  place  warm  that  one  may  bear  iU 
He  has  a  purse  to  keep  a  table. 
And  eke  a  soul  as  hospitable. 
My  heart  is  good ;  but  assets  fell. 
To  fight  with  storms  of  snow  and  hail. 
Besides  the  country  's  thm  of  people. 
Who  seldom  meet  but  at  the  steeple : 
The  strapping  <lean,  that 's  gone  to  Down, 
Ne'er  nam  d  the  thing  without  a  firowu; 
When,  much  fatigu'd  with  sermon-study. 
He  felt  his  brain  grow  dull  and  muddy  ; 
No  fit  companion  could  be  found, 
To  push  the  lazy  bottle  round ; 
Sure  then,  for  want  of  better  folks 
To  pledge,  his  clerk  was  urthodox. 

Ah  !  how  uulrke  to  Gerard-street, 
,  Where  beaux  and  belles  in  parties  meet ; 
Where  gilded  chain  and  <;oache8  throng. 
And  jostle  as  they  trowl  along; 
Where  tea  and  cofi^Be  houHy  flow. 
And  gape-seed  does  in  plenty  grow ; 
And  Griz  (no  clock  more  certain)  cries. 
Exact  at  seven,  '^  Hot  mutton-pies !" 
There  lady  Luna  in  her  sphere 
Once  shone,  when  Paunceforth  was  not  near; 
But  now  she  wanes,  and,  as  tis  said. 
Keeps  sober  hours,  and  goes  txt  bt-d. 
There — but  'tis  endless  to  write  down 
All  the  amusements  of  the  town  ; 
And  spouse  will  think  herself  quite  undone. 
To  trudge  to  Connor  >  from  sweet  London; 
And  care  we  must  our  wives  to  please,  ^ 

Or  else— we  shall  be  ill  at  ease. 

You  see,  my  lord,  what  'tis  I  lack ; ' ' 
Tis  oody  some  convenient  tock, 

1  Bishop  Sterne. 

3  The  bishopric  of  Connor  is  united  to  that  of 
Down;  but  there  are  tw^  deans. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4tr 

Some p^itonage-IMta^  ^    -^  .- 
To^be  my  hte,  my  lik  refcpa^t; 
A  decent  church  close  by  its  tide. 
There  preaching,  pnying,  to  reside; 
And,  as  my  time-secmrely  roHs^ 
To  saTe  my  oim  and  ot^  souls* 


JiVK»3  ANOVBtL 


ST.  nu  awvT* 


Dbai  Smed,  I  rewltb|i  btilUaafc  liasi^ 

Where  wit  in  all  its  glory  shiaee; 

Where  comyliaealS)  wicfa  all  their  prides 

Are  by  their  nombers  digmfled  : 

1  hope  to  make  you  3ret  as  dean 

As  that  same  Viz,  St.  Patriekladeaak 

I  '11  give  thee  surplice,  verg€,ami  sM^, 

And  may  be  somdbing  else  withal ; 

And,  were  yoo  not  so  good  »  writeir» 

I-shoat^pMsent  yoa  wiih  ainitce. 

Write  worse  then,  \fyom  ewv  ht  waoi.t 

Believe  me,  tie  M#  wmf  ioriae. 

Talk  not  of  making  ^  ik$  wnU 

Ak  I  never  lay  tky  hmita  rettl 

Thai  head  to  well  with'WudomJraM§kft 

That  u>rite»9tikmii4he  ieil  ^  ihoMgMi^ 

While  othess-ra^  their  busy  braiasy 

Yoa  are  not  in  the  leasi  at  pBias. 

Down  to  your  deanry  now  iepMr» 

And  build  a  cattle  in  the  mr. 

I  *m  sure  a  man  of  your  ioa  aadte 

Can  do  it  with  a  small  egpeasft 

There  your  deartfoeue and  you togetto 

3f ay  breadM  y«nr  beHies  fuU  of  «Mcr. 

When  lady  Ima  is  your  Daighbowr,  / 

She  ni  helpiyeur  w^e  wino  sbo  's  io  labours 

Well  skiU'd  mLDNdwifc  artifieesy 

For  she  herself  MJaUi  in  pieces 

There  you  shall  see  a  raree^ehom 

Will  make  you  seen  tllia  oMrld  Msv, 

When  you  behokl  the  lailh^ay. 

As  white  as  snow*  at  briglik  as  <daf{ 

The  glitteriag^caMteltariDni  roll 

About  the  griwlhig  «pelie  pole; 

The  lordy  tmgUng  iik  yoof  ears> 

Wrought  by  the  mvsie  ef  thespfaMnes^-^ 

Your  spouse  shall  tkni  aa  lonyir  hastotv 

You  need  noliter  »uCMtai»>kolnm ; 

Kor  shaU  she  thiirii'tlwt  sl»i«tiiidDiitfi 

For  quitting  her  beloaed-Uindsiii 

When  a^*i  imlmi  ia  Iks  skiMt 

She  '11  never  thMt  of  nrallaii^pief ; 

When  you  're  advaaeU  abava^dbMs  Vit,. 

You  '11  never  tlMb  of  ^aody  QeuL 

But  ever,  ever,  live  aiaasa^ 

And  stri^  aatstiiveii  mm^wifk  ta^plaatetn 

In  her  yoo  'H  eftw  all  yam  jojm, 

And  get  ten  thoasagd  gadkidtAeyn 

Ten  thousand  girls aad- bajHyoHf'n git^ 

And  they  like  stasi»ohaH  nemanliftet ; 

While  you  and  tpout^  tmmfkaa^  ikailaotni 

Be  a  »«» tun  and  a  new  moon  : 

Nor  shall  you  strive  your  horns  t(^bM% 

lwll»fcyQtta.ihigmjibimwi>yim»Bni^ 


Ir  it  be  true,  caiestial  powers. 

That  you  have  form'd  me  Bir, 
And  yet,  in  all  my  vainest  hours. 

My  mind  has  been  my  care ; 
Then,  in  return,  1  beg  this  giace^ 

As  you  were  ever  kind. 
What  envious  Time  takes  from  my  hc^ 

Bestow  i^MMi  my  mind ! 


JEALOUSY.     BY  THE  SAME  K 

0  Shield  me  from  his  rage,  cdertial  Powess^ 
This  tyrant,  that  embitters  aH  my  boors  f 

Ah,  Love !  you  've  poorly  play'd  the  heio'a  psut^ 
You  cooqner'd,  but  you  can't  defend  my  beari. 
When  first  I  beni  beneath  your  gentle  vdgn, 

1  thought  this  monster  banisb'd  from  your  traaa; 
But  you  would  raise  him  to  support  your  throiie^' 
And  now  he  claims  your  empire  as  his  own. 

Or  tell  me,  tyrants !  have  you  both  agreed. 
That  wha«  on»  reigns,  the'oth«r  shaU  i 


DR.  DELANY'S  VILLA. 

Would  you  that  Oelville  I  describe  ? 
I  Believe  nie,  sir,  I  will  not  gibe: 
I  For  who  would  be  satirical 
lUpoo  a  thing  so  very  small } 
I     You  scarce  upon  the  borders  enter. 
Before  ywk  're  at  the  very  oentee. 
A  single  crow  can  make  it  night. 
When  o'er  your  farm  she  takes  her  flTghtt 
Yet,  m  this  narrow  con^Mi,  we 
Observe  a  vast  variety; 
Both  walks,  walls,  meadows,  and  paiteiref , 
I  Windows  and  doors,  and  rooms  and  stairs, 
(And  hills  and  dales,  and  woods  and  fields, 
I  And  hay,  and  gcass,  and  com,  it  yields; 
All  tiryour  ha^fard  brou^  so  cheap  in. 
Without  the  mowing  or  the  reaping : 
A  razor,  though  to  say  't  Fm  loth. 
Would  shave  you  and  your  meadows  both. 

Though  small  ^s  the  fimn,  yet  here  'sja 
Full  large  to  entertain  a  mouse, 
\  But  whm  a  rat  is  dreade«t  more 
Than  savage  Caledonian  boar ; 
For,  if  it 's  entered  by  a  rat, 
Hiere  is  no  room  to  bring  a  cat 

A  little  rivulet  seems  to  steal 
Down  through  a  thhig  you  call  a  va)f^ 
Like  tears  s^down  a  wrinkled  cheek. 
Like  rain  along  a  blade  of  leek;    ^ 
'  And  this  you  ^1  your  sweet  meandet^ 
Which  might  be  suck'd  up  by  a  gjpndo^ 
Could  he  but  force  his  nether  bill 
To  scoop  the  channel  of  the  rill : 
For  sure  youM  make  a  mighty  clnltn^ 
Were  it  as  big  as  city-gutter. 

Neact  come  J  to  your  kitchen-garden. 
Where  one  poor  mouse  would  mre  hatlmrA  inf 
And  found  this  garden  is  a  walk. 
No  longer  than  a.tajrloir'fe  cliid)u 

1  On  tile  pubtotiop.olCadimiUMid  Vts^ttm, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


CAB9ERLE  lODMBS. 


k  ntn  I  oMtfunc  \ivliXC'%[Mic&  is*  in  "it, 
A  fm^iX  CftigA  cound  it  ui  a  mioate. 
One  lettuce  makes  a  shift  to  squeeze 
XJp  through  a  tuft  you  otXi  your  trees ;      % 
.Andy  once  a  year,  a  single  rose 
Sleeps  from  the  bud,  but  never  blows ; 
In  vaia  then  you  expect  its  bloom ! 
It  cannot  blow,  for  want  of  room. 

In  short,  in  all  your  bop-^ted  seat, 
^There  't  nothing  but  yourseif  that 's  oasAT. 


ON  OKB  or  TMl 

WINDOIVS  AT  DifiLnUM. 

A  aAmD,  grown- 6emrons  c^Mirm^  his  f%\f. 

Built  a  houM  he  was  sure  womd  Md  none  Imt 

himself. 
This  enrag'd  god  ApdHo,  who  Mercury  sent. 
And  bid  him  go  ask  what  his  votary  meant. 
*'  Some  foe  to  my  empire  has  been  his  adviser : 
^TtB  of  dreadful  portent  when  a  poet  turns  miser ! 
Tell  him,  Hermes,  from  me,  tell  that  galijecti>f  lAiae, 
I  have  »w6m  by  the  Stjrc,  to  defeat  bis  design  | 
For  wherever  he  lives,  the  Muses  shall  reign ; 
And  the  Mosesy  he  Imows,  have  a  numerous  train." 


CARBBRIJE  nUMiS, 

IV  COMrTATU  C^RGAOBNSI.       1'4  25< 

Ecet  ing«ns  fragmen  scopuli,  quod  veKice  sudubo 
Desoper  impfdat,  luillo  fundamine  nixum 
Decidit  in  flnctas :  maria  undique  3c  uudique  saxa 
Homsono  stridere  tolant,  &  ad  «thera  m«rQUir 
Brigitur ;  trepidatqiie  suis  Ncptunus  in  undis. 
Nam,  longA  venti  rabie,  atqne  aspei^gme  crebii 
jEquorei  laticis,  specus  im&  rape  cavatur : 
Jam  fiiltara  nut,  jam  suoMaa  caeumina  nutant ; 
Jam  cadit  in  pnecqis  moles,  Sl  verbeimt  undas. 
Attonitus  credos,  hioc  d^eeisse  Tonantem 
Mootibus  impositos  montes,  &  Pelion  allum 
Jn  capita  anguinadnm  coelo  ja<mUUse  gigantam. 

Sepe  etiam  s^lunca  immaai  aperitur  hiatu 
Eaesa  h  scopulis,  it  utrinque  foramina  pandii, 
Hinc  atque  bine  a  ponto  ad  pontum  pervia  Phffiba 
Caotibus  enormd  juactis  laquearia  tecti 
Formantur;  moles  olim  ruituia  supem^ 
Fomice  aaUimi  nidos  posuere  paUunbcs, 
Inque  imo  stagni  poauere  cubilia  phocae. 

Sed,  cum  ssBvit  hyems^  &  venti,  carcere  rupto, 
Immensos  volvunt  iluctus  ad  culmina  montis ; 
Noo  obsesss  arces,  non  fi^lyiipq  vindice  dextri 
Missa  Jovis,  qnoiies  inimicas  saevit  in  nibes, 
Ensquant  sonitum  undarum,  veniente  pmcelU : 
Littora  littoribns  reboant ;  viciaia  Jati^ 
Gens  assoeta  mari,  &>  padibos  purcun«re  ropes, 
Terretur  tamen,  &  lo^g^  fugit^  arvairelinqaens. 
'  Gramioa  mim  carpunt  pcndentes  r<^  nftp^»||y^ 
Vi  salientis  aquss  de  suxnmo  pnecipitantar, 
£t  dulces  animas  into  sub  gurgite  Hnquunt. 

Piscator  terr4  non  audet  vellere  fbnemt 
Sed  latet  in  ptMa  tremebmMhis,  ^  alfiviadam 
M«iid  speraus,  Nsmmu  pse8ihnnw»iK|Mi<htifiit. 


cjRmuarBocsB. 


» BV  »a.  oviMuif. 


Lo !  from  the  tivp<>f  yonder  cliff,  that  ahronds 
Its  airy  head  amidst  the  azure  clouds. 
Hangs  a  huge  fragment ;  destitute  of  profw^ 
Prone  oa  the  waves  the  rocky  ruin  drops ; 
With  hoane  rebuff  the  swelling  seas  r^und. 
From  shore  to  shore  the  rocks  ratum  the  sound : 
The  dreadful  murmur  Heaven's  high  convex  cLeaveiv 
And  Neptune  shrinks  beneath  his  sulject  waves^ 
For  long  the  whirling -w'mds  and  beating  tides 
Had  scoop'd  a  ^mvtlt  into  its  nether  sides. 
Now  yields  the  b^se,  tfaesummits  nod,  now  wgt 
Their  headlong  eourse,  and  lash  the  sounding  surfOi 
Not  louder  noise  could  shake  the  guilty  worM, 
When  Jove  haap'd  mountainsupoo  mountaioahud'^i 
Retorting  Pelion  from  his  dread  abode. 
To  crush  Earth's  rebel-sons  beneath  the  load. 

Oft*  too  with  hideous  yawn  the  cavam  wide 
Presents  an  orifice  on  either  side, 
A  dismal  orifice,  from  fea  to  sea 
Extended,  pervious  to  the  god  of  day  t 
Uncouthly  join'd,  the  rocks  stupendous  htm 
An  arch,  the  ruin  of  efuture^storm : 
High  on  the  cliff  their  nests  the  woodqnasli  maki^ 
And  sea-calves  stable  in  the  oozy  lake. 

But  when  bleak  Winter  with  his  sullen  tain 
Awakes  the  winds  to  vex  the  watery  plain; 
When  o*er  the  craggy  steep  without  oeetrol. 
Big  with  the  blast,  the  raging  biUows  roll; 
Not  towns  bekaguer'd,  not  the  flaming  bnmH, 
Darted  from  Heaven  by  Jove*s  avenging  haaf^ 
Oft  as  on  impMMis  men  his  wrath  he  poun. 
Humbles  their  pride,  and  blasts  their  ^ilded^owam^ 
Equal  the  tumult  of  this  wild  iipniar ; 
Waves  msh  o*er  waves,  rebellows  shore  to  abog9. 
The  neighbouring  race,  though  wont  to  biave  4te 
Of  angry  sees,  and  run  along  the  rocks,       [flhod9 
Now  pale  with  terrour,  while  the  ocean  ibams. 
Fly  fiur  and  wide,  nor  trust  their  native  hemes.  > 

The  goats,  while  pendent  from  the  mmiiitMiii  Im 
The  withered  herb  mprov^dent  tb^  «ccipw 
Washed  down  the  p^pioe  anth  audden  swcq»y 
Leave  their  sweet  lives  beneath  th*  un&thom'iLdmi^ 

The  frighted  fishsr,  with  despondiag  eyei,      "" 
Tboo^  safe,  yet  trembling  in  the  hadNMir.licv 
Nor  hoping  to  btfhold  ^e  akies  ttrene. 
Wearies  with  vowi  the  mooaick  of  the  ^^^, 


UPON  THE  MOBUDWMt 

DISCOVERED  BY  aARLEQClN; 

trax  aisBOP  ar^toonnw^  hiiw»<do»  i. 

IN  A]>iALoeotB8Twgaa^wam^«MDATMir.  U'W* 

I  ask'd  a  Whig  the  other  njght, 
How  came  this  wicked  plct  to  light  ? 
He  answered,  that  a  d(^  fliflgte 
InformVI  a  minister  of  state. 
Said  I,  from  thenee  I  nothing  tamf 
For  are  not  all  infortners  so  ? 
A  villain  who  his  friend  betn^B, 
Wc  style  him  by  no  other  phraMi; 


» the  State  TMi.  f«L  vl. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


490 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Ana  M)  a  peijar^d  dog  denotes 
Porter,  and  Preudergast,  and  Oatc«, 
And  forty  Others  I  cotdd  name. 
Whig.  But,  you  muirt  know,  this  dogwasJame^ 
Tort.  A  weighty  argument  indeed ! 
Your  evkfmce  was  lame :— proceed : 
Come  help  your  iame  dog  d^er  the  style. 

Whig.  Sir,  you  mistake  me  all  this  while : 
I  mean  a  dog  (without  a  joke), 
Can  howl,  and  barkj  but  never  spoke. 

Tory.  1  m  still  to  seek,  which  dog  you  mean; 
Whether  cur  Plunkeit,  or  whelp  Skean^ 
An  English  or  an  Irish  hound ; 
Or  t'  other  puppy,  that  wa»  drowned  ; 
Or  Mason,  that  abandoned  bitch : 
Then  pray  be  free,  and  tell  me  which : 
For  every  stander-by  was  marking 
That  all  the  noise  they  made  was  barking. 
You  pay  them  well ;  the  dogs  hare  got 
TTieir  dogs-heads  in  a  porridge  pot : 
And  %was  but  just ;  for  wise  men  say. 
That  every  dog  mttrt  have  his  day. 
Dog  Walpole  laid  a  quart  of  nc>g  on  % 
He  *d  either  make  a  hog  or  dog  on  U : 
And  looked,  since  he  has|;ot  his  wish. 
As  if  he  had  throxvn  doxcn  a  dish. 
Yet  this  I  darejbretel  you  from  it. 
He  *11  soon  reh/m  to  his  own  vomit. 

Whig.  Besides,  this  horrid  plot  was  found 
By  Neynoe,  after  he  was  drown*d. 

^  Tory.  Why  then  the  proverb  is  not  right. 
Since  you  can  teach  dead  dogs  to  bite. 
Whig.  I  prov'd  my  proposition  full : 
But  Jacobifes  are  strangely  dulL 
Now  let  me  tell  you  plainly,  sir. 
Our  witness  is  a  real  cur, 
A  dog  of  spirit  for  his  years, 
Has  twice  two  legs,  two  hanging  ears  ; 
His  name  is  ffarleguinf  I  wot, 
And  that 's  a  name  in  every  plot : 
Resolved  to  save  the  British  nation. 
Though  French  by  birth  and  education  : 
His  correspondence  plainly  dated. 
Was  all  derypher*d  and  translated: 
His  answers  were  exceeding  pretty 
Before  the  s'»crct  wise  committee  : 
Confessed  as  plain  as  he  could  bark  ; 
Then  with  his  fore-foot  set  his  mark, 

Tory.  Then  all  this  while  have  I  been  bubbled, 
I  thought  ft  was  a  dbg  in  doublet : 
TTie  matter  now  no  longer  sticks; 
For  statesmen  never  want  dog-tricks. 
But  since  it  was  a  real  cur. 
And  not  a  dog  in  metaphor, 
I  give  you  joy  of  the  report, 
That  he  's  to  have  a  pbce  at  court. 

Whig.  Yes,  and  a  place  he  wilt  glow  rich  in  ; 
A  turn-spit  in  the  roval  kitehen. 
Sir.  to  be  plain,  1  tell  you%hat. 
We  had  occasion  for  a  plot : 
Andj  when  we  found  the  dog  begin  it. 
We  gue«'d  the  b$shop*s  foot  was  in  it 

Tory.  I  own,  it  was  a  dangerous  project; 
And  you  have  nrovM  it  by  dog-logic. 
Sure  suirh  intelligence  between 
A  dog  and  bishop  n^'er  was  seen. 
Till  you  began  to  change  the  breed; 
Your  bishops  'allr'artf  dogs  indeed  ! 


STELLA  AT  WOOD^PARK, 

A  HODSE  or  CHARtBS  POftOi.  ISQ.  !CIAft  ODBUV, 

1723. 

^-Cnicumque  nocere  volebat, 
VeMimenta  dabat  pretiosa. 

Don  Carlos,  in  a  merry  spight. 

Did  Stella  to  his  house  invite ; 

He  entertained  her  half  a  year 

With  generous  wines  and  costly  cheer. 

Don  Carlix  made  her  chief  director. 

That  she  might  o'er  the  servants  hector* 

lu  half  a  week  the  dame  grew  nice. 

Got  all  things  at  the  highest  price : 

Now  at  the  table-head  she  sits. 

Presented  with  the  nicest  bits: 

She  looked  on  partridges  with  scora. 

Except  they  tasted  of  the  com ; 

A  haunch  of  venison  made  her  sweat, 

t'nless  It  had  the  nghtfumette, 

Don  Carlos  earnestly  would  beg, 

"  Dear  madam,  try  this  pigeon^s  leg  ;" 

Was  happy,  when  he  could  prevail 

To  make  her  only  touch  a  quail. 

Through  candle-light  she  view'd  the  wjae. 

To  see  that  every  glass  was  fine. 

At  last,  grown  prouder  than  the  devil 

With  foeding  high  and  treatment  civil, 

Don  Carlos  now  bearan  to  find 

His  malice  work  as  he  designed. 

The  winter-sky  began  to  frown  ; 

Poor  Stella  must  pack  oflt  to  town : 

From  purling  streams  and  fountains  bubbling^ 

To  Lifly*s  stinking  tide  at  Dublin; 

From  wholesome  exercise  and  air. 

To  sossing  in  an  easy  chair ; 

From  stomach  sharp,  and  hearty  feeding. 

To  piddle  like  a  lady  breeding; 

From  ruling  there  the  household  singly. 

To  be  directed  here  by  Dingly  » ; 

From  eveiy  day  a  lordly  banquet. 

To  half  a  joints  and  God  be  thanked ; 

From  every  meal  Pontack  in  plenty. 

To  half  a  ph)t  one  day  in  twenty  ; 

From  Fold  attending  at  her  call. 

To  visits  of  —  —  — 

From  Ford  who  thinks  of  nothiing  mean. 

To  the  poor  doings  of  the  dean ; 

From  growing  richer  with  good  cheer. 

To  running-out  by  starving  here. 

But  now  arrives  the  dismal  day ; 
She  must  return  to  Ormond  Quay  K 
The  coachman  stopt ;  she  looked,  and  swofe 
The  rascal  had  mistook  the  door: 
At  coming  in,  you  saw  her  sto<^ ; 
The  entry  brushM  against  her  hoop : 
Each  moment  rising  in  her  airs. 
She  curst  the  nairow  winding  stain;   ' 
Began  a  thousand  faults  to  spy ; 
The  deling  hardly  six  feet  high  ; 
lite  smutty  wainscot  foil  of  cracks; 
And  half  the  chairs  with  broken  '^I'kfa, 
Her  quarter 's  out  at  lady-day ; 
She  vows  she  will  no  longer  sUy 

^  The  conttant  companion  of  SteUs. 
<  Where  t^  two  ladiei  Mgad. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


BIBTH.DAY  VERSFS. 


*»l 


In  lodgings  Vke  a  poor  grizette. 
While  tbere  are  lodgings  to  be  let 

Howe*er,  to  keep  her  spirits  op. 
She  sent  foi'  company  to  snp : 
When  all  the  while  you  might  remark. 
She  strove  hi  rain  to  ape  Wood-park. 
Tvo  bottles  call  a  for  (half  her  store ; 
The  cupboard  could  contain  but  four) : 
A  supper  worthy  of  herself, 
Five  nothings  in  five  plates  of  dcif. 

Thus  for  a  week  the  farce  went  on ; 
When  all  her  cotuitry  8a\'ings  g(me, 
She  fell  into  her  former  scene, 
Small  beer,  a  herring,  and  the  dean. 

Fhus  far  in  jest :  though  now,  I  fear. 
You  think  my  jesting  too  severe; 
But  poets  when  a  hmt  is  new. 
No  matter  whether  false  or  true : 
Yet  raillery  gives  no  ofience. 
Where  truth  has  not  the  least  pretence  ; 
Nor  can  be  more  secarety  placM 
Than  on  a  nymph  of  Stella's  taste. 
1  must  confess  your  wine  and  vittle 
I  was  too  hard  upon  a  little : 
Your  table  neat,  your  linen  fine ; 
And,  ihough  in  miniature,  you  shine : 
Yet,  when  you  sigh  to  leave  ^ood-park* 
The  scene,  the  welcome,  and  the  spark. 
To  languish  in  this  odious  town. 
And  pull  your  haughty  stomach  down; 
We  Uiink  you  quite  mistake  the  case. 
The  virtue  lies  not  in  the  place : 
For,  though  my  raillery  were  true, 
A  cottage  is  Wood-park  with  you. 


COPY   OP  THE 


BIRTH^DAY  VERSES 

ON  MIL  FORD. 

Cone,  be  content,  since  out  it  must. 
For  Stella  has  betrayed  her  trust ; 
And  whispering,  charged  me  not  to  say 
That  Mr.  Ford  was  bom  to-day ; 
Or,  if  at  last  I  needs  must  blab  it, 
Ao^rding  to  my  usual  habit. 
She  bid  me,  wiUi  a  serious  face. 
Be  sure  conceal  the  time  and  place  ; 
And  not  my  compliment  to  spoil, 
By  calling  this  your  native  soil ; 
Or  vex  the  ladies,  ^hen  they  knew 
That  you  are  turning  forty-two : 
But,  if  these  topics  sliall  appear 
Strong  arguments  to  keep  you  here, 
I  think,  though  you  judge  hardly  of  it. 
Good  manners  must  give  place  to  profit. 

The  nymphs  with  whom  you  first  began 
Are  each  become  a  harridan  ; 
And  Montague  so  far  decayed, 
iler  lovers  now  most  all  be  paid ; 
And  every  belle  that  since  arose 
Has  her  contemporary  beaux. 
Your  former  comrades,  once  so  bright. 
With  wl^m  you  toasted  half  the  night. 
Of  rheumatism  and  pox  complain. 
And  bid  adlet^  to  dear  champaign. 


Your  grea^  pfofeeeton,  ooce  m  pover» 
Are  now  in  exile  or  the  Tower. 
Your  foes  triumphanto'er  the  laws. 
Who  hate  your  person  and  your  cause. 
If  once  they  get  you  «>n  the  spot. 
You  must  be  guilty  of  the  plot : 
For,  true  or  fidse,  they  Ml  ne'er  iqquire. 
But  use  you  ten  times  worse  than  Prior  K 

In  London :  what  would  you  do  there  ?  ^ 
Can  you,  my  firiend,  with  patience  bear 
(Nay,  would  it  not  your  passion  raise 
Worse  than  a  pun,  or  Irish  phrase  ?) 
To  see  a  scoundrel  strut  and  hector, 
A  foot-boy  to  some  rogue  director. 
To  look  on  vice  triumphant  round. 
And  virtue  trampled  on  the  ground  ? 
Observe  where  bloody  *  *  ♦  *  *  standf 
With  torturing  engines  in  his  hands ; 
Hear  him  bla^heme,  and  swear,  and  rail. 
Threatening  the  pillory  amd  jail : 
If  this  you  think  a  plcasmg  scene. 
To  London  straight  return  again; 
Where,  you  have  told  us  from  experience. 
Are  swarms  of  bugs  and  presbyterians. 

I  ftiought  my  very  spleen'  would  burst,  * 
When  fortune  hither  drove  me  first  ^ 
Was  full  as  hard  to  please  as  you. 
Nor  persons,  names,  nor  places  knew : 
But  now'  I  act  as  other  folk. 
Like  prisonqn- when- their  jail  is  broke. 

If  you  have  London  still  at  heart, 
We  'II  make,  a  small  one  here  by  art : 
The  difference  is  not  much  betw^ 
St  James's  Park,  and  Stephen*s  Green ; 
And  Dawson-stre^t  will  serve  as  well 
To  lead  you  thither  as  Pall-MalL 
Nor  want  a  passage  through  the  palace. 
To  choke  your  si^it,  and  raise  your  malice : 
The  deanry-house  may  well  Re  mat^h'd. 
Under  correction,  with  the  Thatcht  K 
Nor  shall  f,  when  you  hither  come. 
Demand  a  crown  a  quart  for  stum. 
Then,  for  a  middle-aged  charmer, 
Stella  may  .vie  with  your  Monthermer ; 
The  *s  now  as  handsome  every  bit;. 
And  has,  a  thousand  times  her  wit 
The  desHi  and  Sheridan,  I  hope. 
Will  half  supply  a  Gay  and  Pope. 
Corbet  3,.though  yet  I  know  l>is  worth  not. 
No  doubt  will  prove  a  good  Arbuthnot 
I  throw  into  the  bargain  Tmi.; 
In  London  can  you  equal  him  ? 
What  think  you  of  my  favourite  clan, 
Robin  *  and  Jack,  and  Jack  and  Dan, 
Fellows  of  modest-worth  and  parts. 
With  cheerful  looks  and  honest  hearts  ? 

Can  you  on  Dublin  look  with  scorn  ? 
Yet  here  were  you  and  Ormond  born» 

Oh  !  were  but  you  and  I  so  wise. 
To  see  with  Robert  Orattan^s  eyes ! 
Robin  .adores  that  spot  of  eartli. 
That  literal  spot  which  gave  him  birth  ; 
And  swears,  *'  Belcamp  ^  is,  to  his  taste, 
"  As  fine  as  Hampton-court  at  leaste^' 

I  The  celebrated  poet 

^  A  famous  tavern  in  St  James's  street 

3  Dr.  Corbet,  afterwards  dean  of  St  Patrick^ 

*  R.  and  J.  Qrattan,  and  J.  and  D.  Jackson. 

^In  Fingall,  aboq^  five  miles  firom  Dublia. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4ft« 

Wben  to  yoor  Weftli  ^  ^iNJ^rtl 
The  praise  of  Italy  or  Frmnoe, 
For  graiidear,  elegmce,  and  y^, 
We  gladly  hear  yw*  «^  wxhnkt  t 
Bat  tiien,  to  come  and  keep  a  cluMeiv 
For  this  or  that  side  of  the  gutter. 
To  live  in  this  or  t'  other  isie. 
We  cannot  think  it  worth  your  whilei 
For,  take  It  kindly  or  nmim. 
The  diffsrenee  but  amounti  to  this : 
We  bury  on  oor  side  the  channel 
In  linen ;  and  on  3^00?*  in  flannel  *. 
Yon  for  the  news  are  n^er  too  le^; 
While  we,  perhaps,  may  wait  a  week : 
You  happy  folks  are  sure  to  vieet 
An  hundred  whores  in  every  street ; 
While  we  may  trace  all  Dublin  o'er 
Befoie  we  find  out  half  a  scores 

You  see  my  arguments  are  strong  ; 
I  wonder  you  held  out  ao  long: 
But,  since  you  are  convinc'd  at  last. 
We  »I1  pardon  you  for  what  is  pest. 
80— let  us  now  for  whist  prepare ; 
Twelve  pence  a  eonm,i£  you  dare. 


JO^  CVDGBUS  NEB.  1728. 

JoAM  cudgels  Ned,  yet  Ned  »«  a  buHy  5 
Will  cudgels  Bess,  yet  Will 's  a  cuUy. 
Pie  Ned  and  Bess  J  give  Will  to  Joan, 
She  dares  not  say  her  life  's  her  own. 
Die  Joan  aUd  WiU;  pve  Bess  to  IW, 
^nd  every  day  she  ambt  Mt  htaiL 


d  4imBBLiNG  Eusar, 

ON  ^DCB  BOAt.      1T23. 

To  moumfbl  ditties,  CHo,  ohkag^  tiiy  ttc«e. 
Since  cmel  fiite  hath  jttf^  ottr  juMiae  fiael. 
Why  should  \»  mk,  where  nothtogsa«n»d  to  piw, 
His  lading  fitOe,  «nd  his  baUmti  less  ? 
Toit  in  the  waves  of  this  twmpestuous  wnrld. 
At  length,  his  anchor  tat  and  eamat  ftM^'d, 
To  Lazy-hill  1  retiring  fretti  his  eoott. 
At  his  RingS*end  '  heybwW^r*  hi  thepo?*. 
With  toater  fill'd,  he  couW  no  tonger.^w«, 
The  common  death  of  many  a  stfeiig«r*a«fc 

A  post  80  fill'd  on  nature's  laws  euivsuchM  i 
benches  on  boats  are  placM,  not  boai*  iM  btmiAm. 
And  yet  our  Boat  {hem  shall  I  reconeile  it?) 
Was  both  a  Boat,  and  in  one  eenw  a  p^t, 
WKh  every  wind  he  *oirrf;a«dw«H  ostuH  ttck  ; 
Had  many  pendents y  bat  abhcwtM  n>faek  «*. 
Hc»s  gone,  ahhough  hi*f«eiidflbej^*o  b^» 
That  he  mig^t  yrt  be  lifted  by  a  r^t 

Behold  the  awftil  bench  on  wbteh  he  ml ! 
flc  was  as  hard  and  ponderous  woorf  as  that  3 
Yet,  when  his  sand  was  out,  we  find  at  last. 
That  death  has  veettet  him  witli  a  blast. 
Our  Boat  is  now  saiPd  to  the  Stygian  feny. 
There  to  supply  oW  Charon's  leaky  wherry : 

«  The  law  for  burying  in  ^Bpollen  was'«Kteiide4  to 
|j«land  in  llfSS. 

I  TVo  TiHages  near  «>e  tea. 

s  it  ^was  said  he  died  of  a  dfOpiy. 

f  AxsMtivard  font  JaccMte. 


twwarrs  Mms*^ 


Charon  m  ran  will  ftrry  mU  to  Hell ; 
A  trade  our  Boa/<  hath  practised  here  wbw^t 
And  Cerberus  hath  ready  in  his  pawt 
Both  fitch  and  brimstone,  to  til  up  hii,/?a«c 
Tet,  ^te  of  death  and  fote,  I  here  raantaiti 
We  may  place  Boc^  In  his  old  just  agai^ 
The  way  is  thus ;  and  well  deserves  your  thnfas. 
Take  the  three  atfoagest  of  his  broken  planks. 
Fix  them  on  high,  conspicuous  to  be  aeen, 
Form'd  like  the  triple-tree  near  Stephen's-gaecn  ^  ; 
And  when  we  view  it  thus  with  thief  at  end  <m% 
We'Ucry,  '< Look,  heca  *•  oar  Ami, and  ttwa % 
tht  pendant  i» 


HERElses  judge  Boat  within  a  co0n; 
Pray,  gentle-folks,  forbear  your  scoffing. 
Afoa^ajudge!  yes;  where 's the Uunder J 
A  wooden  judge  is  no  such  wonder. 
And  in  his  robes,  yon  must  agree. 
No  Boat  was  better  deckt  than  he. 
Tis  needless  to  describe  him  £uUer  ; 
In  short,  he  was  an  able  seuUer, 


PETHOX «  THE  GREAT. 

FaoM  Venus  bom,  thy  beauty  shows ; 
But  who  thy  fotber,  no  roan  kngms : 
Nor  can  the  skilful  herald  trace 
The  founder  of  thy  ancient  race  ; 
Whether  thy  temper,  full  tif  fine. 
Discovers  Vulcan  for  thy  Sine, 
The  god  who  made  Scamander  boti. 
And  round  his  margin  ting'd  Hit  soil 
(From  whence,  philosophers  agree. 
An  equal  power  descends  to  thee) ; 
Whether  nom  dreadful  Mara  you.  claim 
Tb^  high  descent  from  whence  yon  came. 
And,  as  a  proof,  show  numeiDUs  acaitf 
By  fierce  encountan  made  in  wan. 
Those  honourable  wounds  you  bore 
From  head  to  foot,  and  aUb^ore, 
And  still  the  btoody  field  frequent. 
Familiar  in  each  Itoder's  tent ; 
Or  whether  as  the  leamM  contend, 
You  from  the  neighbouring  Oaul  descend; 
Or  from  Parthenope  Che  proud. 
Where  numberless  thy  votaries  crowd; 
Whether  thy  great  forefather  came 
From  r^ms  that  bear  Vesputio*8  name 
(For  so  conjecturets  would  obtrude. 
And  from  thy  painted  skin  conclude)  ^ 
Whether,  as  Epicurus  diows. 
The  world  from  justUfig  seeds  arose. 
Which,  mingling  with  prolific  .strife 
In  chaos,  kindled  into  life : 
So  your  production  was  the  tione* 
And  from  contending  atoms  came. 

Thy  fair  hululgent  mother  caown'd 
Thy  head  with  sparkling  rubies  roqdd : 
Beneath  th^  decent  steps  the  road 
Is  all  with  precious  jewels  strowM. 
The  bird  of  Pallas  knows  his  post. 
Thee  to  attend,  where'er  thou  goest 

*  In  conden^img  Bu^efeotott,  «b« 
ft  Where  the  Dublin  g«^l«WB 
^  This  name  is  |MBly4Ki 


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MARY  THE  COOK-MAID'S  LETTER. 


4^5 


Hysantians  bcwfi,  that  on  the  clod 
Where  once  their  sultan's  horse  had  trod« 
Cjrowt  neither  grass,  nor  shrub,  nor  tree : 
The  smnie  thy  subjects  boast  of  thee. 

The  greatest  lord,  when  you  appear. 
Will  deign  your  livery  to  wear, 
In  all  the  varions  colours  seen 
Of  red  and  yellow,  blue  and  green.* 

With  half  a  word,  when  you  require, 
The  man  of  business  must  retire. 

The  haughty  minister  of  state 
With  trembling  must  thy  leisure  wait ; 
And,  while  his  late  is  in  thy  hatidi, 
The  bosiness  of  the  nation  stands. 

Thou  dar*st  the  greatest  prince  attack. 
Canst  hourly  set  him  on  the  rack ; 
And,  as  an  instance  of  his  power, 
Eocloae  him  m  a  wooden  tower,' 
With  pungent  pains  on  every  side: 
So  Reguhit  in  torments  dy'd. 

From  thee  our  youth  all  Tirtues  learn, 
I>aDgers  with  prudence  to  discern ; 
And  wall  thy  scholars  are  endued 
With  temperaDoe,  and  with  fortitude  $ 
With  patience,  which  all  ills  supports  f 
And  aeciesy  j  the  art  of  courts. 

The  glittering  beau  could  haidly  tell. 
Without  your  aid,  to  read  or  spell ;      • 
But,  having  kbg  conversed  with  yoii, 
Knowg  bow  to  writfc  a  billet-doux. 

With  what  delight,  methiikks,  1  tnoe 
Tour  blood  in  every  n6ble  race  ! 
In  whom  thy  features,  shape,  and  mieOj^ 
Are  to  the  life  distinctly  teen  ! 
The  Britons,  once  a  savage  kind. 
By  you  were  brighten'd  and  refin'd, 
Bescendanta  to  the  bartmrous  Huns, 
thth  limbs  robust,  and  vcAce  that  stuns : 
Bat  you  have  moulded  them  afresh, 
Bemov'd  the  tough  superfluous  flesh. 
Taught  them  to  naodulate  their  tongues. 
And  speak  without  the  help  of  lungs. 

Prc^us  on  you  bestow'd  the  bomi 
To  change  your  vif&ge  like  the  Moon  ; 
Yoo^iometnnes  half  a  fece  produce. 
Keep  t'  other  half  for  private  use. 

flow  fem'd  thy  conduct  in  the  fight 
With  Hennes,  son  of  Pleias  bright  I 
Out-number'd,  half  encompass'd  roQnd, 
Yon  strove  for  every  inch  of  groqnd  | 
Then,  by  a  soldierly  retreat, 
Retired  to  your  imperial  seat. 
The  victor,' when  your  steps  he  trac*d. 
Found  all  the  realms  before  him  waste ; 
You,  o*er  the  high  triumphal  arch 
pQOtific,  made  your  glorious  march  ; 
The  wondrous  arch  behind  you  fell, 
Ind  left  a  chasm  profound  as  Hell : 
You,  in  your  capitol  secur'd, 
A  siege  as  long  as  Troy  endur'd. 


MABY  THE  COOK^MAUyS  LETTER 

TO  na.  sBiamAir.    1729. 

Will,  if  ever  I  saw  such  another  man  since  my 

mother  bound  my  head  1 
Ibuagentleman !  marry  come  op !  Iwonderwher« 

you  were  bred* 
TOk    XL 


I  'm  sure  such  words  do  not  become  a  man  of  your  . 

cloth;  troths 

I  would  not  give  such  language  to  a  dog,  faith  and 
Yes,  you  call'd  my  master  a  knave  ;  ^e,  Mr.  She- 
ridan !  tis  a  shame 
For  a  parson,  who  should  know  better  things,  to 

come  out  with  such  a  name 
Knave  in  your  teeth,   Mr.  Sheridan  1    *tM  both  a 

shame  and  a  tin ; 
And  the  dean,  my  joaster,  is  an  honester  man  than 

you  and  all  your  kin : 
He  has  more  goodness  in  his  Kttle  finger,  than  you 

have  in  your  i^hole  body : 

My  master  i^  a  narsonable  man,  and  not  a  ^Modle- 

sbank*d  hoddy-duddy.  [excuse. 

And  now,  whereby  I  find  you  would  fein  ipake  an 

Because  my  master  one  day,  in  anger,  callM  you 

goose; 
Which,  and  I  am  sure  I  have  been  his  servant  Ibor 

years  since  October, 
And  he  never  called  me  woxm  than  sweet-heart,  drunk 

or  sober: 
Not  that  I  know  his  reverence  was  ever  ooncem'd 

to  my  knowledge. 
Though  you  and  your  come-rc^es  keep  him  out  so 

late  in  your  college. 
You  say  you  will  eat  grass  on  his  grave :  a  Christian 

eat  grass! 
Whereby  3rou  now  confess  yourself  to  be  a  gooae 

orap  ass: 
But  that  *s  as  much  as  to  say,  that  my  master  should 

die  before  ye , " 
Well,  well,  that 's  as  pod  pleases ;  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  *s  a  true  stcury : 
And  so  say  I  told  you  so,  and  you  may  go  tell  my 

master;  what  care  I  ? 
And  I  dont  care  who  knows  it ;  'tis  all  one  to  Mary. 
Every  body  knows  that  I  love  to  tell  truth,  and 

shame  the  devil ; 
1  am  but  a  poor  servant;  but  I  think  gentlefolks 

should  be  civil. 

Besides,  you  found  feult  with  our  victuals  one  day 

that  you  was  here :  Cyc'U'. 

I  remember  it  was  on  a  Tuesday  of  all  days  in  the 

And  Siiinnders  the  man  sa^s  you  are  always  jesting 

and  mocking : 
"  Mary,said  he,^'  (one  day  as  I  was  mending  raytnas- 

ter's  stocking) 
**  My  master  is  so  fond  of  that  minister  that  keeps 

the  school-^ 

I  thought  my  master  a  wise  man,  but  that  man 

makes  him  a  fool."  [ale 

'*  Saunders,**  said  I,  **  IwouUl  rather  thana  quart  of 

He  would  come  into  our  kitchen,  and  I  would  pin  a 

dish-clout  to  his  tail." 
And  now  1  must  go,  and  get  Saunders  to  direct 

this  letter ; 
For  I  write  but  asad  scrawl ;  but  my  sister  Marget, 

she  writes  better.  .         ^ 

Well,  but  1  must  run  and  make  the  bed,  before  my 

master  comes  from  pcayers ; 
And  see  now,  it  strikes  ten,  and  I  hear  him  coming 

up  stairs  ; 
Whereof  1  coukl  say  more  to  your  verses,  if  I  coukl 

write  written  hand : 
And  so  I  remain,  in  a  civil  way,  your  servant  to 


M.iRY. 


Ff 


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'424, 


SWIFTS  POEBI8. 


A  NEW'TBAB^S-GIFT  FOR  BMO  ' . 

1723-4, 

Returnimc  Jamis  now  prepares. 
For  Bee,  a  new  supply  of  cares. 
Sent  in  a  bag  to  doctor  Swift, 
Who  thus  displays  the  New-year's-jift. 

First,  this  large  parcel  "brings  you  tidingv 
Of  our  good  dean^s  eternal  chidings ; 
Of  Nelly's  pertness,  Robin's  leasings, 
jjaid  Sheridan's  perpetual  teasing*. 
This  box  is  cramm'd  on  mcry  side 
With  SteUa's  magisterial  pride. 
Behold  a  cage  witli  sparrows  fill'd. 
First  to  he  fondled,  then  be  killU 
Now  to  this  hamper  I  Invite  j'ou. 
With  six  imagin'd  catrs  to  fright  yon. 
Here  in  this  bundle  Janus  sends 
Concerns  by  thousamls  for  your  firicndt: 
And  here 's  a  pair  of  leathern  pt>kes. 
To  hold  your  cares  for  otlier  folks. 
Here  from  this  barrel  you  may  broach 
A  peck  of  troubles  for  a  coach. 
This  ball  of  wax  your  ears  will  darken. 
Still  to  be  curious,  never  hearken.  * 
Lest  you  the  town  may  have  less  trouble  in. 
Bring  all  yourQuilca's  *  cares  to  Dubtin, 
For  which  he  sends  this  empty  sack  ; 
And  80  take  all  Qi>ou  your  back. 


DING  LEY  AND  BRENT  K 
A  SONG, 

TO  TUB  TUNS  OF    *'  YK  COMMONS  AND  PBCtS." 

DiNCLBY  and  Brent, 

Wherever  they  went, 
K*er  minded  a  word  that  was  spoken  ; 

Whatever  was  said. 

They  ne*er  troubled  their  head. 
But  laugh'd  at  their  o«-n  silly  joking. 

Should  Solomoti  wise 

In  majesty  rise, 
And  8ho%'  them  bis  wit  and  his  leatnin^r; 

They  never  would  hear,  ' 

But  turn  the  deaf  ear. 
As  a  matter  they  bad  no  conc^  in« 

You  tell  a  good  jest. 

And  please  all  the  rest ; 
Comes  Dhigley,  and  as^s  you,  "  What  was  it  r " 

And,  curious  ta  know. 

Away  she  wifl  go 
To  seek  an  okl  rag  in  tt^e  ck)6et 


TO  STELLA.     1723-4. 

WRITTEN   ON  THE   DAT   OP  HBK   iniTH,   IVT  NOT   CM 
THE   SUBJECT,   WHEN  I  WAS  SICK  IN  BEp. 

^ToRMBNTBD  With  tncessaut  pains. 
Can  I  deivise  poetic  strains  ? 

>  Mis.  Dingley,  Stella's  firiend  and' companion. 
«  A  country-house  of  Dr.  Sheridan* 

>  Dr.  Swift's  bouse  keeper. 


Time  was,  when  I  wM  yegrly  psy^ 
My  verse  ob  Stella's  natire  di^ : 
But  now,  ooable  grown  to  write, 
I  grieve  she  ever  saw  the  light- 
Ungrateful  !  since  to  her  I  owe 
That  I  these  pains  can  onderga 
She  tends  me,  like  an  bunible  slaw; 
And,  when  indecently  I  rave. 
When  oot  my  brutish  passions  break. 
With  gall  in  every  word  I  speak. 
She  with  soft  speech,  my  anguish  cb««ri^ 
Or  melts  my  passions- down  with  tears-: 
Although  'tis  easy  to  descry 
She  wants  assistance  ttMre  than  I ; 
Vet  seems  to  feei  my  pains  aloue. 
And  is  a  Stoic  in  her  own. 
When,  among  scholars,  can  we  find 
So  soft,  and  yet  so  firm  a  luiod  } 
All  accidents  of  life  oon^ire 
To  raise  up  Stella's  virtue  higher. 
Or  else  to  iatvodtice  the  rest 
Which  bad  been  latent  in  her  breast, 
f  Jer  firmness  who  could  e'er  have  kaoira^ 
,  Had  she  not  eviis-  of  ker  own  } 
Her  kindness  who  coakl  ever  guess^ 
f lad  not  her  friends  been  in  distress  ? 
Whatever  base  returns  you  find 
From  me,  dear  Stella,  stiU  b«  kind. 
In  your  own  heart  you  'M  reap  the  fruity 
Though  I  continue  Still  a  brute. 
Uut,  when  I  oace  am  out  of  pain, 
I  promise  to  be  good  aga'm  : 
Meantime,  yuur  other  juster  firienda 
Shall  for  my  follies  make  amends  ; 
So  may  we  long  coaiiauc  tbua 
Admiring  you,  y%m  pitying  us. 


ON  DREA3fS. 

AN  txrrATiON  or  prraoNivsw 

Somnia  quie  meates  luduiit  volitaatibiis  umbris,  km 

Those  dreams  that  on  the  silent  mght  intrude. 
And  with  false  ftitting  shades  oor  minds  delode, 
Jove  never  sends  us  downward  from  the  skies; 
Nor  can  they  from  infernal  mansions  rise ; 
But  all  are  mere  productions  of  the  brain. 
And  ibols  consult  interpreters  in  vain. 

For,  when  in  bed  we  rest  our  weary  limbs. 
The  mind  unborden'd  sports  in  various  wkiiBS  ; 
The  busy  h^  with  mimic  ait  runs  o'er 
The  scenes  and  actions  of  the  day  befoce. 

The  drowsy  tynsiit,  by  bis  ninioGs  led. 
To  regal  rage  devotes  some  patriot's  head. 
With  equal  terroars,  not  with  equal  fwit. 
The  murderer  dreams  of  all  tke  blood  be  spilt 

The  soldier  smiling  bears  the  widows  crlea^- 
And  stabs  the  son  before  the  oMither's  eyes. 
With  like  remorse  his  brother  of  the  trade. 
The  butcher,  fells  the  lamb  begeath  his  blade. 

The  statesmM)  rakes  the  town  to  find  a  ploC, 
And  dreams  of  forfeitures  by  treason  got. 
Nor  less  Tom-t— d-man,  of  true  statesman  waaH 
Collects  the  city  filth  in  search  of  ^okL 

Orphans  around  his  bed  the  Iscvjrer  aees, 
And  takes  the  pkimiff's  and  defoidaiitltiiNi^ 


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DELANY  TO  SWIFT. 


43$ 


Kb  hlUm  pick-pane»  watching  for  a  job. 
Fancies  bis  finger '» in  the  cully's  fob. 

The  kind  physician  grants  the  hnsband't  prayers. 
Or  gives  relief  to  long-expecting  heirs. 
The  sleeping  hangman  ties  the  fatal  noose, 
Kor  unsbccetefiil  waits  for  dead  men's  ^hob8. 

The  grave  divine,  with  knotty  points  perpleyt, 
As  if  be  was  awake,  nods  o*er  his  text : 
While  the  sly  mountebank  attends  his  trade. 
Harangues  the  rabble,  and  is  belter  paid. 

The  hireling  senator  of  modem  days 
Bedaubs  the  guilty  ^eat  with  nauseous  praise : 
And  Diok  the  scavenger^  with  equal  grace. 
Flirts  tpom  his  cart  the  mud  in  *****  *i  hce. 


fTHITSBEJyS »  MOTTO  Olf  UE8  COACH. 

LiBEMTAS  et  natale  tolum  : 

Fine  words  I  I  wonder  where  you  stole  'em. 

CoiUd  nothing  bat  thy  chief  reproach 

Serve  for  a  motto  on  thy  coach  ? 

But  let  me  now  the  lirords  transhita : 

Natale  solum,  my  estate ; 

My  dear  estate,  how  well  I  love  it  1 

My  tenants,  if  you  doubt,  will  prove  it 

They  swear  I  am  so  kind  and  good, 

I  bag  them,  till  I  squeeze  their  blomL 

Ubertai  bean  a  large  import : 
First,  how  to  swagger  in  a  court  | 
And,  secondly,  to  show  m^  fury 
Against  an  on-complying  jury ; 
And,  thirdly,  His  a  new  invention. 
To  fovoor  Wood,  and  keep  my  pension ; 
And,  fourthly,  'tis  to  play  an  odd  trick. 
Get  the  great  seal,  and  turn  out  Broderiok; 
And,  fifthly,  (you  knovr  who  I  mean) 
To  humble  that  vexatious  dean ; 
And,  sixthly,  for  my  soul,  to  barter  it 
For  fifty  times  its  worth  to  Carteret  K 

Now,  since  your  motto  thus  you  construe, 
I  must  confess  you  've  spcAen  once  true. 
lAberttu  et  natale  solum : 
Yoa  had  good  reason,  when  you  stole  'eni« 


DR.  DELANY  TO  J)R.  SWIFT, 

W  OftDBE  TO  ME  ADM riTBD  TO  SPZAK  TO  HIM,  WHni 
Bl  WAS  DBAP.      1724. 

DtAi  sir,  I  think  'tis  doubly  bard. 
Your  ears  and  doors  should  both'  be  barr'd. 
Can  any  thing  be  more  nnkind  } 
Most  I  not  see,  *^use  you  are  blind  ? 
Methinks  a  friend  at  night  should  cheer  you, 
>  A  friend  that  loves  to  tee  and  hear  yon. 

1  The  chief  justice  who  prosecuM  the  Jtopier, 
i  Lord  Ueuten^  Qlf  ;MMi 


Why  am  I  robb*d  of  that  delight. 
When  you  cau  be  no  loser  by  't  ? 
Nay,  when  'tis  plain  (for  What  is  plahier  f) 
That,  if  you  heard,  you  *d  be  no  gainer  i 
For  sure  you  are  not  yet  to  learn. 
That  bearing  is  n^  your  concern. 
Then  be  your  doors  uo  longer  barr'd  ; 
Your  business,  sir,  is  to  be  heard. 

THE   ANSWia. 

Taa  wise  pretend  to  make  it  clear, 
Tis  no  great  km  to  lose  an  ear. 
Why  are  we  then  so  fond  of  two, 
When  by  eKperience  one  would  do  ? 

Tis  true,  say  they,  cut  off  the  head. 
And  there  's  an  end ;  the  man  is  dead  ; 
Because,  among  all  human  race. 
None  e'er  was  known  to  have  a  brace : 
But  confidently  they  maintain. 
That  where  we  find  the  members  twain. 
The  loss  of  one  is  no  such  trouble, 
Since  t*  other  will  hi  strength  be  double. 
The  limb  surviring,  you  may  swear. 
Becomes  his  brother's  lawful  heir : 
Thus,  for  a  trial,  l^t  me  beg  of 
Your  reverence  but  to  cut  one  leg  off. 
And  you  will  find,  by  this  device. 
The  other  will  be  stronger  twice; 
For  every  day  you  shall  be  gaining 
New  vigour  to  the  leg  remaining. 
So,  when  an  eye  has  lost  its  brother. 
You  see  the  better  with  the  others 
Cut  off  your  band,  and  you  may  do 
With  t'  other  hand  the  work  of  two; 
Becaose  the  soul  her  power  contracts. 
And  on  the  brother  limb  re-acts. 

But  yet  the  point  is  not  so  clear  va 
Another  case,  the  sense  of  hearing : 
Fbr,  though  the  pUce' of  either  ear 
Be  distant  as  one  head  can  bear  ; 
Yet  Galen  most  acutely  shows  yoo, 
(Consult  his  book  de  parthtm  usu) 
That  from  each  ear,  as  he  observes^ 
Hiere  creep  two  auditory  nerves. 
Not  to  be  seen  without  a  glass, 
Which  near  the  os  petrosum  pass ; 
Thence  to  the  neck ;  and  moving  thorow  there. 
One  goes  to  this,  and  one  to  t'  other  ear  ; 
Which  made  my  grand-dame  always  stitff  her  ear^ 
Both  right  and  left,  as  fellow-sufferers. 
You  see  my  learning ;  bat,  to  shorten  it. 
When  my  left  year  was  deaf  a  fortnight. 
To  t'  other  ear  1  felt  it  coming  on : 
And  thus  I  solve  this  hard  phenomenon., 

1*i8  true,  a  glass  will  bring  supplies 
To  weak,  or  old,  or  cloudy  eyes  ; 
Yoor  arms,  though  both  yoqr  eyes  were  lost. 
Would  guard  your  nose  against  a  post ; 
Without  your  legs,  two  legs  of  wood 
Are  stronger  and  almost  as  good ; 
And  as  for  hands,  there  have  been  those 
Who,  wanting  hotb,  have  us*d  their  toes  >• 
But  no  contrivance  yet  appears 
To  fhmish  artificial  ears. 

1  There  bate  bean  mitaoces  of  a  tfian*s  writing 
with  hii  fool* 


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43S 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


^UIET  LIFE  AND  A  GOOD  NAME 

TO  A  PluaiD  WBO  MAIRIEO  A  SHIMIW.    1734, 

Nell  scolded  in  so  loud  a  din, 
That  Will  durst  hardly  venture  in  ;  • 

He  maric'd  the  coiyugal  diq>ute ; 
Kell  roar'd  incessant,  Dick  sat  mute; 
But,  when  he  saw  his  friend  appear, 
Cry'd  bravely,  "  Patience,  good  my  dear !» 
At  s'ght  of  Will,  she  bawPd  no  more. 
But  hurry'dout,  and  clapp*d  the  door. 

"  Why  Dick !  the  deril  »8  in  thy  Nell," 
(Quoth  Will)  "  thy  houfe  is  worse  th%n  Hell: 
Why  what  a  peal  the  jade  has  rung ! 
D— n  her,  why  dont  you  slit  her  tongue  ) 
For  nothing  else  wiH  make  it  cease»^» 
•*  Dear  Will,  I  suffer  this  (br  peace : 
I  never  quarrel  with  my  wife; 
I  bear  it  for  a  auiet  life. 
Scripture,  you  ki>oir>  exhorts  qato  it  | 
Bids  us  to  seek  peace,  and  entue  U,*'' 

Will  went  ^n  to  visit  Dicki 
And  entering  ra  the  very  nicky 
He  saw  virago  Nell  belabour. 
With  Dick's  own  sUff,  hit  peaceful  neighbour : 
Poor  Will,  who  needs  must  interpose, 
Reoeiv*d  a  bra^  or  two  of  blows. 

But  now,  to  make  my  story  short, 
Will  drew  out  Dick  to  take  a  quart, 
**  ^^lly,  Dick,  thy  wife  has  devilish  whims ; 
Ods  buds !  wj^y  doD*t  you  break  her  limbs } 
If  she  were  mine,  and  had  svch  tricks, 
I  'd  teach  her  bo^  to  handle  sticks : 
Z— ds !  I  would  ship  her  to  Jamaioa, 
Or  truck  the  carrion  for  tohacco : 
1  'd  send  her  far  enough  away — " 
**  Dear  Will ;  but  what  would  people  say  ) 
Lord  !  I  should  get  so  ill  a  name. 
The  neighbours  round  would  cry  out  shame.** 

Dick  suffered  fot  his  peace  and  credit ; 
But  who  believ'd  him,  when  he  said  itr 
Can  he  who  makes  himself  a  slave. 
Consult  bis  peace,  or  ci^t  save  ? 
Dick  found  it  by  his  ill  success. 
His  quiet  small,  his  credit  less. 
She  serv'd  bim  at  the  usual  rate ; 
She  stunnM,  and  then  she  broke;  his  pate : 
And,  what.be  thought  the  hardest  case, 
The  parish  jeer'd  him  to  bis  face  ; 
Those  men  who  wore  the  breeches  least, 
Caird  him  a  cuckold,  fool,  and  beast 
At  home  he  was  puntudd  with  noise; 
Abroad  was  pester 'd  by  the  boys : 
within,  his  wifit  would  break  his  bones ; 
Without,  they  pelted  him  with  stones: 
TTie  *prentices  procured  a  riding  «, 
To  act  his  patience,  and  her  chiding. 

False  patience  and  mistaken  pride ! 
There  are  ten  thousand  Dicks  beside. 
Slaves  to  their  quiet  and  good  name. 
Are  us'd  like  Dick,  and  bear  the  blame. 

^  A  well-known  bomonrous  cavalcade,  m  rMiqile 
OC  a  seokimg  wife  and  btti-peckcd  husband. 


BIRTH  OF  MANLY   mtTUE. 

TMSOKIBKDTOLOKDCAaTiaBT,  1724. 

Oratior  &  pulchro  reniens  m  oorpore  virtus. 

Viig* 

Oncb  on  a  time,  a  rigbteoos  sage^ 
Gfiev'd  at  the  vices  of  the  age. 
Applied  to  Jove  with  fervent  prayer  ^ 

**  O  Jove,  if  Virtue  be  so  fair 
As  it  was  deem*d  in  former  days . 
By  Plato  and  by  Socrates, 
Whose  beauties  mortfil  eyes  escape. 
Only  for  want  of  outward  shape ; 
Make  then  its  real  excellence. 
For  onoe,  the  theme  of  bnman  sense ) 
So  shall  the  eye,  i>y  form  conf  a'd. 
Direct  and  fix  the  wandariog  mind. 
And  long-deluded  mortals  see 
With  raptare  what  they  us*d  to  flee.'* 

Jove  grants  the  prayer,  gives  Virtue  birtl^ 
And  bids  him  bless  and  in«Kl  the  earth. 
Biehold  him  blooming  freah  and  fair. 
Now  made— ye  goda--^  son  and  heir  ^ 
Ap  heir ;  and,  stranger  yet  to  hear. 
An  heir,  an  oiphan  of  a  peer ; 
But  prodigies  are  wrought,  to  prove 
Nothing  impossible  to  Jove. 

Virtue  was  for  this  sex  designed 
In  mild  reproof  to  woman-kind ;  ^ 

In  manly  form  to  let  them  see 
TTie  loveliness  of  modesty. 
The  thousand  decencies  that  shape 
With  lessened  lustre  in  their  own ; 
Which  few  had  leam'tl  enough  to  prize^ 
And  some  thought  modish  to  dei^Mse. 

To  male  his  merit  more  disc^m'd. 
He  goes  to  scbool^he  reads— is  leam'd ; 
Rais'd  high,  above  bis  birth,  by  knowledge^ 
He  shhies  distingnish'd  in  a  eolleige  ; 
Resolved  nor  bononr,  nor  estate. 
Himself  alone  should  make  him  great. 
Here  soon  fbr  every  art  renown'd. 
His  influence  is  difAisM  aroond ; 
Th'  inferior  youth,  to  leanmig  led. 
Less  to  be  fam'd  than  to  be  fed. 
Behold  the  gkny  he  has  won. 
And  Unsh  to  tee  themselves  outdona  j 
And  now,  inflam'd  with  rival  rsge. 
In  scientific  strife  engage  s 
Engnge— «nd,  in  the  glorious  strifi^ 
The  arts  new-kfaxlle  into  life. 

Here  woukl  our  hero  ever-dweUj| 
Fix'd  in  a  lonely  learned  oell ; 
Contented  to  be  truly  great. 
In  virtue's  best-belov'd  retreat  i 
Contented  he-— but  fete  ordains. 
He  now  shall  shine  in  iN4>ler  soeoae 
(Rais'd  high,  lik^  seme  celestial  fire. 
To  shine  the  more,  still  rising  hi|^u^)  ; 
Completely  fbcin*d  in  every  part. 
To  win  the  soul,  and  glad  the  heart 
The  powerful  voice,  the  grscefiil  mien. 
Lovely  alike,  or  heard  or  seen ; 
The  outward  form  and  inward  vie, 
His  soul  bright  beamiDg  finooi  his  ey« 


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Verses.....  RIDDLES. 


<Mf 


Smiobtiik^  e9trj  tct  and  air, 

\^^th  just,  and  generous,  and  wackxt, 
Accomplish'd  thus,  his  next  resort 

Is  to  the  council  and  the  court. 

Where  vtttuc  is  in  least  repute, 

And  interest  the  one  pursuit ; 

Where  right  and  xtnmg  arc  bought  and  told^ 

BarterM  n>r  beauty,  and  for  gold  | 

Here  manly  virtue,  even  here. 

Pleased  in  the  person  of  a  peer, 

A  peer;  a  scarcely-bearded  youth. 

Who  talk'd  of  justice  and  of  truth. 

Of  inAocence  the  surest  guard. 

Tales  here  forgot,  or  yet  unheard ; 

That  he  alone  desenr'd  esteem. 

Who  was  the  man  he  wisl^d  to'  seem  \ 

Caird  it  unmanly  and  unwise. 

To  lurk  behind  a  mean  disguise ; 

(Give  fraudful  vice  the  mask  and  screen, 

'Tk  virtue's  interest  to  be  seen ; ) 

C^ird  want  of  sbarae  a  want  of  sense, 

And  found,  in  blushes,  ekx)oence. 
Thus,  acting  what  he  Uugbt  so  well. 

He  drew  dumb  Merit  from  her  cell. 

Led  with  amazing  art  along 

The  bashful  dame,  and  k>os*d  her  tongu^  i 

And,  whilst  he  made  her  value  known. 
Yet  more  di^lay'd  and  raised  his  own. 

*  Thus  young,  thns  proof  to  all  temptationi. 

He  rises  to  the  highest  stations 

(For  where  high  honour  is  the  prize. 
True  virtue  has  a  right  to  rise) : 
liCt  courtly  slaves  low  bend  the  knee 
To  wealth  and  vice  ra  high  degree  : 
Exalted  worth  disdains  to  owe 
its  grandeur  to  its  greatest  foe. 

Now  nds'd  on  high,  see  Virtue  shows 
The  godlike  ends  for  which  he  rose  ; 
<For  him,  let  proud  ambition  know 
The  height  of  glory  here  below. 
Grandeur,  by  goodness  made  compleat  I 
To  bless,  is  truly  to  be  great !    ' 
He  taught  how  men  to  honour  rise, 
like  giUied  vapours  to  the  skies. 
Which,  howsoever  they  display 
Their  glory  from  the  god  of  day, 
Thehr  noblest  use  is  to  abate 
His  dangerous  excess  of  heat. 
To  shield  the  tnfiint  fruits  and  flowers. 
And  bless  the  earth  with  genial  showers. 
Now  change  the  scene;  a  nobler  car* 
Demands  him  in  a  higher  sphere  ^ : 
Distress  of  nations  calls  him  henc«, 
Permitted  so  by  Providence ; 
For  models,  made  to  mend  our  kind. 
To  no  one  clime  should  be  confin^  i 
And  manly  Virtue,  like  the  Sun, 
His  course  of  glorions  toils  should  nm; 
Alike  difibsing  in  his  flight 
Congenial  joy,  and  life,  and  light. 
Pale  Envy  sickens,  Errour  flies. 
And  Dtocord  in  his  presence  dies; 
Oppresskm  hides  with  guilty  dread^ 
And  Merit  re^  her  drooping  head  % 
The  arts  revive,  the  vallies  sing. 
And  winter  softens  into  spring : 

>  Lord  Carteret  bad  the  boooor  of  mediating 
FMoe  lot  Swadca  wiftb  DemiMik  tfid  wi^  tba  Csar. 


The  wooderiog  world,  where'er  he  moves, 
With  new  delight  looks  up  and  loves ; 
One  sex  consenting  to  admire. 
Nor  less^the  other  to  desire; 
Whilst  be,  though  seated  on  a  throne. 
Confines  -fais  love  to  one  alone ; 
Tlie  rest  condemned,  with  rival  voice 
Repining,  do  applaud  his  choice. 

Fame  now  reports,  the  Western  Isle 
Is  nmde  his  mansion  for  a  while. 
Whose  anxious  natives  night  and  day 
(Happy  beneath  his  righteous  sway)   • 
Weary  the  gods  with  ceaseless  prayer. 
To  Uess  him,  and  to  keep  him  there  j 
And  claim  it  as  a  debt  from  fate. 
Too  lately  found,  to  lose  him  late. 


VERSES 

OH  TBI  UratOBT  JU90I 
WtfO  CONDBMKBO  TBB  OaAFIlK^S  Pttima, 

Tbe  church  I  hate,  and  have  good  reason  ; 
For  there  my  grandsire  cut  his  weazand : 
He  cut  his  weazand  at  the  altar; 
I  keep  my  gullet  for  the  halter. 


ON  TH£  SABIE. 

In  church  your  grandsire  cut  his  throat : 
To  do  the  job,  too  long  he  tanyd  ; 

He  should  have  had  my  hearty  vote. 
To  cut  his  thhwt  before  he  marry'd* 


ON  THE  SAME. 

(tbb  juoob  spbaxs.) 

I'm  not  the  grandson  of  that  ass  Quin  >  j 

Nor  can  you  prove  it,  Mr.  Pasquin. 

My  giand-Jame  had  gallants  by  twenties, 

hii  bore  my  mother  by  a  *prentice. 

Hiis  when  my  grandsire  knew,  they  tell  us  b« 

In  Christ-Church  cut  his  throat  for  jealousy. 

And,  shioe  the  alderman  was  mad  you  say. 

Theft  Imust  be  so  too,  sjr  troduct. 


nWDLES, 

BY  DR.  SWIFT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS^ 
wBrmM  in  01  aiovT  tu  ybja  179k 


I.    ON  A  PEN, 

Iv  youth  enhed  hi^  In  air. 
Or  bathing  »  the  waters  fUr, 
Nature  to  form  me  took  delight 
And  cM  ny  JMdy  all  in  whit^ 

^ABald^nnan. 


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458 


SmsTS  POEMS. 


My  person  tall,  and  slender  wairt. 

On  either  side  with  fringes  jfrac'd; 

Till  me  thai  tyrant,  man,  espy'd, 

And  dragged  me  from  my  mother's  side: 

No  wonder  now  I  |o6k  90  thin ; 

The  tyrant  stript  me  to  the  skin : 

My  skin  he  flay'd,  my  hair  he  cropt^ 

At  head  and  foot  my  body  lopt; 

And  then,  with  he^art  more  hard  than  stone^ 

He  pick'd  my  marrow  from  the  bone. 

To  vex  me  more,  he  took  a  freak 

To  slit  my  tongne,  and  make  me  ^)eak: 

But,  that  which  wonderfiil  appears, 

I  speak  to  eyes,  and  not  to  ears. 

He  oft  employs  me  in  disguise. 

And  maket*  me  tell  a  thousand  lies  i 

To  me  he  chiefly  gives  in  trust 

To  please  his  malice  or  his  Inst: 

From  me  no  secret  he  can  bide  ^ 

I  see  bis  vanity  and  pride: 

And  my  delight  is  to  expose 

His  follies  to  his  greatest  foes. 

All  languages  1  can  command^ 
Yet  not  a  word  1  understand. 
Without  my  aid,  Jhe  best  divine 
In  learning  WDuid  not  know  a  line : 
The  lawyer  must  forget  his  pleading; 
The  scholar  could  not  show  his  reading. 

Nay,  man,  my  master,  is  my  slave; 
1  give  command  to  Icill  or  savej 
Can  grant  ten  thousand  pounds  a  year. 
And  make  a  beggar's  brat  a  peer. 

But,  while  I  thus  my  life  relate, 
I  only  hapten  on  my  fate. 
My  tongue  is  black,  my  mouth  is  furr'd, 
I  hardly  now  can  force  a  word. 
I  die  unpitied  and  forgot^ 
And  on  some  dunghill  left  to  rot. 


II.    ON  GOLD. 


Alc-rvlimg  tyrant  cf  the  Earth, 
To  vilest  slaves  I  owe  my  birth. 
How  i^  the  greatest  monarch  blest. 
When  in  my  gaudy  livery  dre«t! 
No  haughty  nymph  has  power  to  run 
From  me,  or  my  embraces 'shun. 
Stabb'd  to  the  heart,  condemned  to  flame, 
My  constancy  is  still  the  same. 
The  favourite  messenger  of  Jove, 
And  L^mnian  god,  consulting  strove 
To  make  me  glorious  to  the  sight 
Of  mortals,  and  the  gods*  delight. 
Soon  would  their  altars'  flame  expire. 
If  I  refus'd  to  lend  them  flee. 


m. 

Br  fate  exalted  Mgh  hi  place, 
I/>,  here  I  stand  with  double  face; 
Superior  none  on  Earth  I  find; 
But  see  below  mq  all  mankind. 
Yet,  as  it  oft  attends  the  great, 
I  almost  sink  with  my  own  vceight. 
At  every  motion  undertook, 
The  vulgar  all  cottf  ult  my  hols. 


1 1  sometimes  give  advice  in  terUhg^ 
But  never  of  toy  own  inditing. 

I  am  a  courtier  in  my  way  ; 
For  those  who  raised  me,  I  betray;  » 
And  some  give  out,  that  I  entice 
To  lust,  and  luxury,  and  dice; 
Who  punishments* on  me  inflict. 
Because  they  find  their  pockets  pickt. 

By  riding  post,  I  lose  my  health  ; 
And  only  to  get  others  wealth. 


IV.    ON  THE  POSTERIORS. 

Because  I  am  by  nature  blind, 

I  wisely  chuse  to  walk  behind  s 

However,  to  avoid  disgrace, 

I  let  no  creature  see  my  face. 

My  xcords  arc  few,  but  tfpoke  with  sense  j 

And  yet  my  speaking  gives  offence : 

Or,  if  to  whisper  I  presume. 

The  company  will  fly  the  room. 

By  all  the  world  I  am  o^est ; 

And  my  oppression  gives  them  rest. 

Through  me,  though  sore  against  my  wiQ^ 
Instructors  every  art  instil. 
By  thousands  I  am  sold  and  bought. 
Who  neither  get  nor  lose  a  groat;  • 
For  none,  alas !  by  me  can  gain. 
But  those  who  give  me  greatest  pain. 
Shall  man  presume  to  ^  my  master. 
Who  's  but  my  caterer  and  taster  9      , 
Yet,  though  I  always  have  my  will, 
I  'm  but  a  mere  dtpender  still; 
An  humble  hanger  on  at  best. 
Of  whom  all  people  make  a  jest. 

In  me  detractors  seek  to  find  . 
Two  vices  of  a  different  kind » 
I  'm  too  profuse,  some  censurers  cry  ; 
And  all  I  get,  I  Jet  it  fy  : 
While  others  give  me  many  a  cmve. 
Because  too  close  I  hold  my  purse» 
But  this  I  know,  in  cither  case 
They  dare  not  charge  me  to  my /ace. 
'Tis  true  indeed,  sometimes  I  sape. 
Sometimes  run  out  of  all  I  have  ; 
Bat,  wheh  the  year  is  at  an  end, 
Computing  what  I  get  and  spend. 
My  goings-out,  and  comtngs-in, 
I  cannot  find  I  lose  or  win;  1 

And  therefore  all  that  know  me  say, 
I  justly  keep  the  middle  Vfay. 
1  *m  always  by  my  betters  led  ; 
I  last  get  up,  and  first  a-bed  ; 
Though,  if  I  ris^  b^ore  my  time. 
The  leam'd  in  sciences  sublime 
Consult  the  ytars,  and  thenee  foretd 
Good  luck  to  those  with  whom  I  dwelt 


V.    ON  A  HORN. 
Thi  joy  of  man,  the  pride  of  bWtes, 
Domestic  sntgect  for  disputes. 
Of  plenty  thou  the  etebi^  flur, 
Adom'd  by  nymphs  with  all  their  cate  I 
I  saw  thee  raised  to  high  i^iown, 
Sapporthif  half  the  Britiih  cnmoi 


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nODLES. 


489 


And  oftm  ba»e  f  ^een  tl^e  frtee 
The  chaste  Diana^s  in&nt  fiioe; 
And  wheiMoe'er  yod  please  to  shine, 
Less  Qsciiil  is  her  light  than  thine: 
Thy  namerous  fingers  know  their  way. 
And  oft  in  CeUa's  tresses  play. 

To  place  thee  in  another  view, 
I  '11  show  the  world  strange  things  and  trae; 
What  lords  and  dames  of  high  degree 
May  justly  claim  their  birth  from  thee. 
The  soul  of  man  with  spleen  you  vex ; 
Of  spleen  you  cure  the  female  sex. 
Thee  for  a  gift  the  courtier  sends 
With  pleasure  to  his  special  friends : 
He  gives,  and,  with  a  generous  pride,. 
Contrives  all  means  the  gift  to  hide:  ^ 
Nor  oft  can  the  receiver  know. 
Whether  he  lias  the  gift  or  no. 
On  airy  wings  you  take  jronr  flight. 
And  fly  unseen  both  day  and  night; 
0>nceal  your  form  with  various  tricks; 
And  few  know  how  or  where  you  fix: 
Yet  some,  who  ne'er  bestow'd  thee,  boast 
That  they  to  others  give  thee  most. 
Mean  time,  the  wise  a  quastioa  start. 
If  thou  a  real  being  art ; 
Or  but  a  creature  of  the  brain. 
That  gives  imaginary  pain. 
But  the  sly  giver  bettor  knows  thee. 
Who  feels  true  joys  when  he  bestows  thet. 


VL    ON  A  CORKSCREW. 

TflovoR  I,  alas !  a  ^prisoner  be. 

My  trade  is  prisoners  to  set  free* 

No  slave  bis  lord's  commands  obeys 

With  such  insinuating  wasrs. 

My  genius  piercing,  sharp,  and  bright, 

Wlierein  the  men  of  wit  delight. 

The  clergy  keep  me  for  their  ease, 

And  turn  and  wind  me  as  they  please. 

A  new  and  wondrous  art  I  show 

Of  raising  spirits  from  below  ; 

In  MCttrkt  some,  and  some  in  white ; 

They  rise,  walk  round,  y^  never  fright.  ' 

In  at  each  mouth  the  spirits  pass. 

Distinctly  seen  as  through  a  glass; 

0*er  head  and  body  make  a  rout. 

And  drive  at  last  all  stcrets  out : 

And  still,  the  more  I  show  my  art. 

The  more  they  open  every  hearL 

A  greater  chemist,  none  than  I, 
Who  from  materials  hard  and  dry 
Have  taught  men  to  extract  with  skill 
More  precious  juice  than  from  a  still. 

Although  I  'm  often  out  of  ease, 
I  'm  not  asbam'd  to  show  my  /ace. 
Though  at  the  tables  of  the  great 
I  near  the  Vid^board  take  j^y  seat ; 
Yet  the  plain  'squire,  when  dinner  'J  done. 
Is  never  pleased  till  I^make  one : 
He  kindly  bids  me  near  him  stand. 
And  often  takes  roe  by  the  hand. 

I  tmoe  a  d^y  a  hun^tfg  go. 
Nor  ever  fdl  to  seize  my  foe; 
And,  when  I  have  hidi  by  the  poU, 
I  dfif  him  lyrardi  (tqbi  hii  hoUj 


Though  some  are  of  ^  stubborn  kind; 
I  'm  f  irc'd  to  leavte  a  Umb  behind- 

I  hourly  wait  some  firtal  end ; 
For  I  can  breakf  but  scorn  to  bend. 


VIL      ^ 
THE  GULPH  OF  ALL  HUMAN  POSSESSION)?. 

CoMt  hither,  and  behold  the  fruits. 

Vain  man  !  of  all  thy  va'm  pursuits. 

Take  wise  advice,  and  Look  behind,  • 

Bring  all  past  actions  to  thy  mind. 

Here  you  may  see,  as  in  a  glass,  * 

How  soon  all  human  pleasiues  pass. 

How  will  it  mortify  thy  pride. 

To  turn  the  tiue  impartial  side  1 

How  will  your  eyes  contoin  their  teats. 

When  all  the  sad  reverse  appears ! 

This  cave  within  its  womb  confines 
The  last  result  of  all  designs : 
Here  lie  deposited  the  spoils 
Of  busy  mortals*  endless  toils : 
Here,  with  an  easy  search,  we  find 
The /ou/ com</>/iunx  of  mankind. 
The  wretohed  purchase  here  behold 
Of  traitors  who  their  country  sold. 

This  gulph  insatiable  imbibes 
The  lawyer's  fees,  the  »tatesman's  bribes. 
Here,  in  their  proper  shape  and  mien. 
Fraud,  perjury,  and  guilt^  are  seen. 

Necessity,  the  tjnrant's  law. 
All  human  race  must  hither  draw  ; 
All  prompted  by  the  same  desire. 
The  vigorous  youth,  and  aged  sire. 
Behokl,  the  coward  and  the  brave. 
The  haughty  prince,  the  humble  slave. 
Physician,  lawyer,  and  divine. 
All  make  oblations  at  this  shrine. 
Some  enter  boldly,  some  by  stealth. 
And  leave  behind  their  firuitless  wealth. 
Fbr  while  the  bashful  sylvan  maid. 
Am  half  asham*d,  and  half  afraid. 
Approaching  finds  it  hard  to  part 
With  that  which  dwelt  so  near  her  heart-} 
The  courtly  dame,  unmov*d  by  fear. 
Profusely  pours  her  offerings  here. 

A  treasure  here  unlearning  lurks. 
Huge  heaps  of  never-dying  works  i 
Labours  of  many  an  ancient  sage. 
And  mUlVms  of  the  present  age. 

In  at  this  gulph  all  oflTerings  ptii. 
And  lie  an  undistinguish'd  mam* 
Deucalbn,  to  restore  mankind. 
Was  bid  to  throw  the  stones  behirtd  ; 
So  those  who  here  their  gifts  convey 
Are  fbrc'd  to  look  another  toay  ,*- 
For  few,  a  chosen  km,  must  know 
The  mysteries  that  lie  below. 

Sad  charnel-house !  a  dismal  dome, 
Vo€  which  all  mortals  leave  thehr  home  I 
The  young,  the  beautiful,  and  brave. 
Here  bury'd  in  one  common  grave ! 
Where  each  sunply  (ifdead  reoewB 
UnwholetomovM^,  offensive  dews; 
And  lo  1  the  tsriting  on  the  walls 
PoIbU  oot  vteM  iHtthJiMr  vttlMifiUlf  i 


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SWIFTS  POEMS. 


The  food  of  wo/ms  anl  beasts  obscene, 
Who  round  the  vault  luxuriant  reign. 

See  where  those  mangled  corpses  l^e, 
Condemn'd  by  female  hands  to  dieJ 
A  comely  dame,  ouce  clad  in  white, 
Lies  there  consign'd  to  endless  night  j 
By  cruel  hands  her  blood  was  spilt, 
And  yet  her  wedlt/t  wa^  all  her  guilt 

And  here  six  virgins  in  a  tomb. 
All-beauteous  offspring  of  one  womb. 
Oft  in  the  train  of  Venus  seen, 
As  fair  and  lovely  as  their  queen  : 
In  royal  garments  each  was  dres^t. 
Each  with  a  gold  and  purple  vest : 
I  saw  them  of  their  garments  stript ; 
Their  throats  were  cut,  their  bellies  ript  j 
Twice  were  they  bury*d,  twice  were  bom. 
Twice  firom  their  sepulchres  were  torn  j 
But  now  dismembered  here  are  cast, 
And  find  a  resting-place  at  last. 

Here  oft  the  curious  traveller  finds 
The  combat  of  oppoiing  winds  ; 
*And  seeks  to  learn  the  secret  cause. 
Which  alien  seems  firom  nature's  laws. 
Why  at  this  cave^^  tremendous  mouth 
He  feels  at  once  both  north  and  south  ; 
Whether  the  winds,  in  caverns  pent, 
Through  clefti  oppugnant  force  a  vent  ^ 
Or  whether,  opening  all  his  stores. 
Fierce  .Solus  in  tempest  roars. 

Yet,  from  this  mingled  mass  of  things, 
In  time  a  new  creation  springs. 
These  crude  materials  once  shall  rise 
To  fill  the  earth,  and  air  and  skies  ; 
In  various  forms  appear  again. 
Of  vegetables,  brutes,  and  men. 
So  Jo^e  pronouncM  among  the  gods, 
Olympus  trembling  as  he  nods. 


VIII.      LOUISA  »  TO  STREPHON. 

Ah  !  Strepbon,  4ioir  can  yoo  despise 
Her  who  without  thy  pity  dies  ? 
To  Strepbon  I  have  still  been  true. 
And  of  as  noble  blood  as  you  | 
Fair  issue  of  the  genial  bed, 
A  virgin  in  thy  buaom  bred ; 
Embraced  thee  closer  than  a  wife ; 
When  thee  I  leave,  I  leave  my  life. 
Why  should  my  shepherd  take  amisi^ 
That  oft  I  wake  thee  with  a  kiss } 
Yet  you  of  every  kiss  complain ; 
Ah !  is  not  love  a  pleasing  pain } 
A  pain  which  every  happy  oight 
You  cure  with  ease  and  with  delight ; 
With  pleasure,  as  the  poet  sings. 
Too  great  for  m6rtals  less  than  kings* 

Chloe,  when  on-  thy  breast  I  lie. 
Observes  me  with  revengefiil  eye : 
If  Chloe  o*er  thy  heart  prevails. 
She  '11  tear  me  with  her  desperate  nailti^ 
.^id  with  relentless  bands  destroy 
The  tender  pledges  of  our  joy. 
For  have  I  bred  a  spurious  race ; 
l^y  all  were  bom  from  thy  embfac6» 

*  This^iddle  is  sol?ed  by  an  uisfraa. 


Consider,  Sti«pboii,  what  yoo  do  ; 
For,  should  I  die  for  love  of  you, 
I  11  haunt  thy  dreams,  a  bkxidleas  gliMt| 
Arid  all  my  kin  (a  riumeroos  host. 
Who  down  direct  our  Kneage  bring 
From  victors  o'er  the  Mempbiao  Inog; 
Renown'd  in  sieges  and  campaigns,- 
^W\kO  never  fled  the  bloody  plains. 
Who  in  tempestuous  seas  can  sport. 
And  scorn  the  pleasures  of  a  court. 
From  whom  great  Sylla  found  his  doom, 
Who  scourged  to  fleath  that  scourge  of  Rooml 
Shall  on  thee  take  a  vengeance  dire ; 
Tbou,  like  Alcides,  shalt  expire^ 
When  his  envenom'd  shirt  he  wore. 
And  skin  and  fl<«h  in  pieces  tors. 
Nor  less  that  shirt,  my  rival's  gift. 
Cut  from  the  piece  that  made  her  shifty 
Shall  in  thy  dearest  blood  be  dy'd. 
And  make  thee  tear  thy  tainted  hide«^ 


DC 

Dkpriv'd  of  root,  and  branch,  and  rind. 

Yet  flowers  I  bear  of  every  kind ; 

And  such  is  my  prolific  power, 

They  bloom  in  less  than  half  an  boor; 

Yet  standers-by  may  {Mainly  see 

They  get  no  nourishment  from  me. 

My  h^  with  giddiness  goes  roond, 

And  yet  I  firmly  stand  my  ground : 

All  over  naked  I  am  seen. 

And  painted  like  an  Indian  queen. 

No  couple-beggar  in  the  land 

E'er  join'd  such  numbers  hasid  in  hand  ; 

1  join  them  fairly  with  a  ring ; 

Ntrr  can  our  parson  blame  the  thing : 

And,  though  no  marriage  words  are  spoke^ 

They  part  not  till  the  ring  »  broke  ^ 

Yet  hjrpocrite  fanatics  cry, 

I  'm  but  an  idol  rais'd  on  hi^: 

And  once  a  weaver  in  our  town, 

A  damn  d  Cromwellian,  knock'd  me  t 

I  lay  a  prisoner  twenty  years, 

And  then  the  jovial  cavaliers 

To  their  old  post  restor'd  all  three» 

I  mean  the  church,  the  king,  and  me. 


"X.    ON  THE  MOON, 

I  WITH  borrow'd  silver  shme. 
What  you  see  is  none  of  mine. 
First  I  show  you  but  a  quarter. 
Like  the  bow  that  guards  the  TVitar; 
Then  the  half,  and  then  the  whole. 
Ever  dancing  round  the  pole. 
And  what  will  raise  your  admirationy 
I  am  not  one  of  Gon's  creatioiv  ' 

But  sprung  (and  I  this  troth  maintain) 
like  Pallas^^from  ni^  ftither's  braiik 
And,  after  s^,  I  chiefly  of e 
My  beauty  to  the  shades  below. 
Must  wondrous  forms  you  tee  me  w«a|^ 
A  man,  a  woman,  lion,  bear, 
A  fish,  a  fowl,  a  clood,  a  field, 
AU^goret  HeaTen  or  Earth  can  fSeld  ; 


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lUDDLES. 


Ut 


tSIn  DAptine  ■ometimet  in  a  tree  s 
Yet  am  not  oue.of  all  you  tee. 


XI.     ONACIRCLB. 

I  'm  up  and  dovn,  and  round  about, 
Yet  all  the  vorid  can't  find  me  oat ; 
Though  hundreds  hare  employed  their  leisure. 
They  never  yet  could  find  my  measure. 
I  'B  found  almost  in  every  garden, 
Kay  in  the  compass  of  a  fiittiung. 
There  '9  neither  chariot,  coach,  nor  mill. 
Can  move  an  inch,  except  I  will 


XII.  ON  INK. 


I  AM  jet  black,  as  you  majraee. 

The  son  of  pitch,  and  gloomy  night: 
Yet  all  that  know  me  will  agree, 

1  'm  dead  except  I  live  in  light, 
ilometimes  hi  panegyric  high, 
'     Like  lofty  Pindar,  I  can  soar; 
And  raise  a  virgin  to  the  sky. 

Or  sink  her  to  a  pocky  whore^ 
My  blood  this  day  is  very  sweet. 

To  morrow  of  a  bitter  juice ;  - 
Like  milk,  'tis  cry'd  about  the  street. 

And  to  apply*d  to  different  use. 
Most  wondrous  is  my  magic  power  i 

For  with  one  colour  I  can  paint ; 
I  'II  make  the  devil  a  saint  this  hour. 

Next  make  a  devil  of  a  saint. 

Through  distant  regions  I  can  fly. 

Provide  me  but  with  paper  wingi ; 
And  fairly  show  a  reason,  why- 

There  should  be  quarrels  among  kingsi 
And,  after  all,  you  'II  think  it  odd. 

When  learned  doctors  will  dispute, 
That  I  should  point  the  word  of  God, 

And  show  whene  they  can  best  confute. 
Let  lawyers  bawl  and  strain  their  throats : 

Tis  I  that  must  the  lands  convey. 
And  strip  the  clients  to  their  coats. 

Nay,  give  their  very  souH  away. 


XIIL    ON  THE  nVE  SENSES. 

All  of  us  in  one  you  Ml  find. 
Brethren  of  a  wondrous  kind ; 
Yet  among  us  all  no  brother 
Knows  one  tittle  of  the  other/ 
We  m  frequent  councils  are, 
And  our  marks  of  things  declare, - 
Where,  to  us  unknown,  a  clerk 
Sits,  and  takes  them  in  the  dark. 
Be  *s  the  register  of  all 
In  our  ken,  both  great  and  small '; 
By  us  fbrms  hia  lawi  and  rules : 
He's  our  master,  we  his  tooh ; 
Yet  we  can  with  greatest  ease 
Tnni  and  wind  him  where  we  please. 


One  of  08  alone  can  s1e6t>, 
Yet  no  watch  the  rest  wiD  keep^ 
But  the  moment  that  he  cloees. 
Every  brother  else  reposes. 

If  wine  's  bought,  or  victuals  dresty 
One  enjoys  them  fcrr  the  rest 

Pierce  us  all  with  wounding  steel. 
One  for  all  of  us  will  feel. 

Though  ten  thousand  cannons  roar. 
Add  to  them  ten  thousand  more. 
Yet  but  one  of  us  is  found 
Who  regards  the  dreadful  aouod. 

Do  what  is  not  fit  to  tell. 
There  't  but  one  of  us  caa  smelL 


XIV.    TONTINELLA  TO  7L0RINDA. 

When  on  my  bowm  thy  bright  eyes, 

Florinda,  dart  their  heavenly  beams, 
I  feel  not  the  least  love-surpriae. 

Yet  endless  tears  flow  down  in  straama  I 
There  's  nought  so  beautiful  in  thae 
But  you  may  find  the  same  m  me. 
The  lilies  of  thy  skin  compare ; 

In  me  you  see  them  full  as  whiteu 
The  roses  of  your  cheeks,  I  dare 

Affirm,  can't  glow  to  more  delight. 
Then,  since  I  show  as  fine  a  lace. 
Can  you  reAise  a  soft  embraced 

Ah  I  lovely  nymph,  thou 'rt  hi  thy  prime  9 

And  so  am  I  whilst  thou  art  here  ; 
But  soon  will  come  the  fatal  time. 

When  all  we  see  shall  disappear. 
Tis  mine  to  make  a  just  reflection,  . 
And  yours  to  follow  my  directkm. 
Then  catch  admirers  while  yon  may  ; 

IVeat  not  your  kpren  with  disdain; 
For  time  with  beauty  flies  away. 

And  there  is  no  return  again. 
To  yon  the  sad  aooount  I  bring, 
life's  autumii  has  no  second  spring; 


XV.    ON  AN  ECHa 

Nevbe  steeping,  still  awake. 
Pleasing  most  when  most  I  speak; 
The  delight  of  old  and  young. 
Though  I  speak  without  a  tongna. 
Nought  but  one  thing  can  confiMmd  m^ 
Many  voices  joining  round  me; 
Then  I  fret,  and  rave,  and  gabble, 
like  the  labou9ers  of  Babd. 
Now  I  am  a  dog,  or  cow ; 
I  can  bark,  or  I  can  low;, 
1  can  bleat,  or  I  can  sing 
like  the  warblers  of  the  spring 
Let  the  love-aick  bard  oomiilain. 
And  I  mourn  the  cruel  pain  ; 
Let  the  happy  twain  rejoice. 
And  I  join  my  healing  voice  ; 
Both  are  welcome,  gncf  or  joy, 
I  with  either  sport  aad  toy. 
Thou^  a  lady,  I  am  ikoot, 
Drama  tfti  tnunpeii  hriaf  mt  o«tf 


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44t 

Then  I  clash,  and  roar,  anS  rattk. 
Join  is  all  the  din  of  battle. 
Joye,  with  all  his  loudest  tbonder. 
When  I  *Bi  vext,  can't  keqp  me  under  ; 
Yet  so  tender  is  my  ear. 
That  the  lowest  voice  I  fear. 
Much  I  dread  the  comtier*s  ftite^ 
When  his  merit  >  out  of  date; 
For  I  hate  a  silent  breath. 
And  a  whisper  is  my  deatii. 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


XVL    ON  A  SHADOW  IK  A  GLASS. 

Br  something  fbrmM,  I  nothing  am. 
Yet  every  thing  that  you  cah  name 
In  no  place  have  I  ever  been. 
Yet  every  where  I  may  be  seen ; 
In  all  things  fislse,  yet  always  tnie, 
I  'm  still  the  same-*-but  ever  new. 
lifeless,  life's  perfect  form  I  wear. 
Can  show  a  nose,  eye,  tongue,  or  ear. 
Yet  neither  smell,  see,  taste,  or  hear. 
All  shapes  and  features  I  can  boast. 
No  flesh,  no  bones,  no  blood— no  ghost  $ 
All  colours,  without  paint,  put  on» 
And  change  like  the  cameleon. 
Swiftly  I  come,  and  enter  there. 
Where  not  a  chmk  lets  in  the  air; 
Like  thought,  I  'm  in  a  moment  gona^ 
Nor  can  I  ever  be  alone ; 
AH  things  on  Earth  I  imitate. 
Faster  than  Nature  can  create,; 
Sometimes  miperial  robes  1  weai^ 
Anon  m  beggar's  rags  appear; 
A  giant  now,  and  straight  an  elf, 
I  »m  every  one,  but  ne'er  myself; 
KCer  sad  I  mourn,  ne'er  glad  rejoiee  ; 
I  move  my  lips,  but  want  a  voice  ; 
I  ne'er  waa  bora,  nor  e'er  can  die  ; 
Then  prythee  tell  me  what  am  L 


XVIL 

Most  things  by  me  do  rise  and  fell. 

And  as  I  |9ease  they  're  great  and  small ; 

Invading  foes,  without  resistance. 

With  ease  I  make  to  keep  their  distanee  ; 

Again,  as  I  'lb  dispos'd,  the  fee 

Will  come,  though  not  a  foot  they  gow 

Both  mountains,  woods,  «ad  hilb,  and  ndm, 

.And  gaming  goats,  and  fteeoy  Aaoks, 

And  lowing  herds,  aad  piping  swains. 

Come  dancing  to  me  o'er  the  plains. 

The  greatest  whale  that  swims  the  saa 

Does  instantly  my  power  g^. 

In  vain  from  roe  the  sailor  flies ; 

The  quickest  ship  I  can  surprise^ 

And  turn  it  as  I  have  a  mind. 

And  move  it  agamst  tide  and  wind. 

Kay,  bring  me  here  the  taUest  omhi, 

I  '11  squeeze  him  to  a  little  span ; 

Or  bring  a  tender  child  and  pliant. 

Yon  '11  see  roe  stretch  him  to  a  giait; 

Nor  shall  they  in  the  least  camplainy 

Because  my  mn^iogivflfi  DQpaiau 


XVm.    ONTOtt. 


1 


Ena  eating,  never  cloying. 
All  devouring,  all  destroying. 
Neves  finding  full  repast, 
TiU  I  eat  the  world  at  last. 


XlX.    ON  THE  GAIXOWS. 

THEtv  is  a  gate,  we  know  full  well. 

That  stands  'twixt  Heaven,  and  Earth,  and  Bd^ 

Where  many  for  a  passage  venture. 

Yet  very  few  are  fond  to  enter ; 

Although  *ti8  open  night  and  day. 

They  for  that  reason  shun  this  way : 

Both  dukes  and  k>rds  abhor  its  wood, 

They  can't  come  near  it  for  their  blood* 

What  other  way  they  take  to  go» 

Another  time  I  '11  let  you  know. 

Yet  commoners  with  gre^itest  ease 

Can  find  an  entrance  when  they  pk<ase. 

The  poorest  hither  march  in  state 

(Or  they  can  never  pass  the  gate). 

Like  Roman  generals  triumphant. 

And  then  they  take  a  torn  and  jump  oq  t. 

If  gravest  parsons  here  advance. 

They  cannot  pass  before  they  dance  ; 

There 's  not  a  soul  (hat  does  resort  here^ 

But  strips  himself  to  pay  the  porter. 


,    XX.    ON  THE  VOWELS. 

Wi  are  little  airy  creatures. 
All  of  different  voice  and  fe^res : 
One  of  us  in  glass  is  set,^ 
One  of  us  you  '11  find  hi  jet, 
T*  other  3rou  may  see  in  tm. 
And  the  fourth  a  box  within ; 
If  the  fifth  you  shoukl  puiwe^ 
It  can  never  fly  firom  you. 


XXI.    (WBNOW. 

FsoM  Heaven  I  fell,  though  haai  Earth  I  bes^: 

No  lady  alive  can  show  such  a  sldn. 

I  *m  bright  as  an  angel,  and  light  as  a  fbatfaer; 

But  heavy  and  dark,  when  you  squeeze  me  together. 

Though  candour  aqd  truth  in  my  aqpect  I  bar, 

Yet  many  poor  creatures  I  help  to  ensnare. 

Though  80  much  of  Heaven  appaats  iirmy  make^ 

The  fpulest  impresskyns  I  easily  take. 

My  parent  and  I  produce  one  another. 

The  mother  the  daughter,  the  dau^>tartliemsthy 


XXn.    ON  A  CANNON. 


BEOoiTBif,  and  born,  sad  dying  with  i 
The  terrour  of  women,  and  plnsore  oftioy% 
Like  the  fiction  of  poets  concerning  tbe  win^i 
I ''m  chiefly  unndy  ^  ' 
For  silver  and  gold  I  daott  tronUe  my  1 
But  all  I  delight  in  ispieoe»of  lead; 
Except  when  I  trade  witii  a  ship  or  a  ttmOf 
Why  then  1 1 


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EfDDLSS. 


*i* 


Ofte  property  vaact  I  wmiUi  bavt  yon  TcmailLt 
Ko  lady  was  ever  more  fond  of  a  spark ; 
The  moment  I  get  one,  my  soul 's  all  a-fire 
And  I  roar  out  my  joy,  and  m  transport  expirt. 


XXni.    ON  A  PAIR  OF  DICR 

Wb  are  little  brethren  twain, 
Arlwters  of  loss  and  gain ; 
Many  to  our  counters  run, 
Some  are  made,  and  some  undone  t 
But  men  find  it  to  their  cost, 
Tew  are  made,  but  numbere  (ost. 
Though  we  play  them  tricks  for  ever. 
Yet  tbey  always  hope  oiur  favour. 


XXIV.    ON  A  CANDLE. 

TO  L4DY  CARTEBBT. 

Op  all  inhabitants  on  Earth, 

To  man  alone  I  owe  my  birth ; 

And  yet  the  cow,  the  shcep,^the  bee^ 

Are  all  my  parents  more  Uian  he. 

I,  a  virtue  strange  and  rar^ 

Make  the  fiurest  look  more  fair ; 

And  myself,  which  yet  is  rarer. 

Growing  old,  grow  still  the  fairer. 

like  sots,  alone  I  'm  dull  enough. 

When  dos'd  with  smoke,  and  smear'd  wHb  tnuff ; 

Bat,  in  the  midst  of  mirth  and  wine, 

I  with  double  lustre  shine* 

Emblem  of  the  fair  am  I, 

Polish'd  neck,  and  radiant  eye  ; 

In  my  eye  iny  greatest  ^race. 

Emblem  of  the  Cyclops'  race ; 

Metals  I  like  them  subdue, 

SUve  like  them  to  Vulcan  too. 

Emblem  of  a  monarch  oM, 

Wise,  and  glorious  to  behold  ; 

Wasted  he  appears,  and  pale. 

Watching  for  the  public  weal : 

Einblem  of  the  ba^hfiil  dame. 

That  in  secret  feCxls  her  HidMiep 

Often  aiding  to  iknpart 

All  the  secrete  of  her  heart 

Various  is  my  bulk  and  hue ; 

Big  like  Bess,  and  small  like  Sae  ; 

Now  brown  and  bumisbM  as  a  nut» 

At  other  t?tAes  a  very  slut ; 

Often  fair,  and  soft,  and  tender, 

Taper,  taU,  and  smootli,  and  stender ; 

like  Flora  deok'd  with  various  flowers  ; 

like  Phoebus,  guardian  of  the  bourt : 

But,  whatever  be  my  dress. 

Greater  be  my  size  or  less, 

SweUhq^be  my  Bhape  or  nxMdly 

like  thyself  I  shine  in  all. 

Clooded  if  myftee  is  seen, 

M  J  oonplexion  wan  and  green« 

l^ingaid  like  a  love-sick  maid. 

Steel  aflbrdt  me  present  akL 

Soon  or  late,  ray  date  ii  dohe, 

Ai  my  thread  of  life  U  span  ; 

Yet  to  cut  the  fiital  thread 

Oft  revivw  ny  dreophig  hQi4 : 


Yet  I  perisli  ia  ny  fAn^ 
SeMom  by  the  death  of  time; 
Die  like  lovers  as  they  gaze. 
Die  for  those  I  live  to  please  $ 
Pine  unpitied  to  my  um. 
Nor  warm  the  ^ir  for  whom  I  bom^ 
Unpitied;  unlamented  tao. 
Die  like  all  that  hwk  on  you. 


XXV. 

TO  LAnr  CAKTBBBT.      BY  DK.  MLAlfT. 

I  BBACB  all  things  n^r  me,  and  fkr  offto  boot, 
Without  stretching^  a  finger,  or  stirring  a  foot; 
I  take  them  all  in  too,  to  add  to  your  wondfr. 
Though  many  and  various,  and  large  and  asunder. 
Without  jostling  or  crowding  they  pass  side  by  side. 
Through  a  woiklcnrful  wicket,  not  half  an  inch  wide  : 
Then  I  lodge  them  at  ease  in  a  veiy  large  store. 
Of  no  breadth  or  length,wlth  a  thousand  things  moMb 
All  this  I  can  do  without  witchcftift  or  charm; 
Though  sometimes,  they  say,  I  bewitch  and  do  bami* 
Though  cold,  I  inflame ;  and  though  quiet,  invade; 
And  nothing  can  shield  from  my  spell  but  a  shade. 
A  thief  that  has  robb'd  yon,  or  done  you  disgrace. 
In  magical  mirror  I  '11  show  you  his  face : 
Nay,  if  you  '11  believe  what  the  poets  have  said, 
lliey  >11  tell  you  I  kill,  and  can  callback  the  deaA 
Like  conjurers  safe  in  my  circle  I  dwell ; 
I  love  to  look  black  too,  it  heightens  my  spelL  . 
Though  my  magic  is  mighty  In  every  hue. 
Who  see  all  my  power  must  see  it  in  You. 

ANSWERED  BY  DR.  SWIFT. 

Wrra  half  an  eye  your  riddle  I  spy. 

I  observe  your  wicket  hemm'd  In  by  a  thicket. 

And  whatever  passes  is  strained  through  glassai. 

You  say  it  is-  quiet :  I  flatly  deny  it. 

It  wanders  about,  without  stirring  out ; 

No  passion  so  w^  but  gives  it  a  tweik ; 

Love,  joy,  and  devotion,  set  it  always  in  tkiOtkNk 

And  as  for  the  tragic  eSects  of  its  magic^ 

Which  you  say  it  can  kill  or  revive  At  its'wtll. 

The  dead  are  all  found,  and  revive  above  gi\>uud. 

After  all  you  have  writ,  It  cann6t  be  wit; 

Which  pUinly  does  follow,  since  it  flies  from  Apollo, 

Its  cowardice  such,  it  tries  at  a' t»uch : 

'TIS  a  perfect  milksop,  grows  drank  with  a  6xog^ 

Another  great  fault,  it  eiuinot  bear  salt : 

And  a  hair  can  disarm  it  of  every  charm. 


A  RECEIPT 

TO  tISfOtS  rfEtLA's  tOlTTH.     Tt2^S 

The  Scottish  hinds,  too)  poor  lo'hOQse 
In  frosty  nights  their  Malrin;  wn. 
While  not  a  blade  ^ifpr^BB  or  baiy 
Appears  from  Michaelraa»  feo  Mty, 
Must  let  their  cattltf  range  in-iPMlQ 
For  food  along  the  barten  plain. 
Meagre  and  laidciiMi  fitting  gtwwn. 
And  Botbiqg  kft^MtM*  iwt  bMe{ 


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SWIFTS  P0£M1 


Expos'd  to  ^ant,  and  wind,  knd  woltli^, 
Tbey  just  keep  life  and  soul  together. 
Till  summer-lowers  and  evening's  dew 
Again  the  Verdant  glebe  renew ). 
And,  as  the  vegetables  rise, 
The  famish'd  cbw  her  want  supplies  t 
Without  an  ounce  of  last  3rear's  flesh. 
Whatever  she  gains  is  young  and  fresh  | 
Grows  plump  and  round,  and  full  of  mettle^ 
As  rising  from  Medea's  kettle, 
With  youth  and  beauty  to  enchant    . 
£nropa*8  counterfeit  gallant 

Why,  Stella,  should  you  knit  your  brow^ 
If  I  compare  you  to  the  cow  ? 
Tis  just  the  case ;  for  you  have  £ut«d 
So  long,  till  all  your  flesh  is  wasted. 
And  must  against  the  wanner  days 
Be  sent  to  Quika  down  to  graze ;    . 
Where  mirth,  and  exercise,  and  air» 
Will  soon  your  appetite  repair : 
The  nutriment  will  from  within, 
llound  all  your  body,  plump  your  skin  | 
Will  agitate  the  lazy  flood. 
And  fill  your  veins  with  sprightly  blood  i 
Nor  flesh  nor  blood  will  be  the  same, 
Kor  aught  of  Stella  but  the  name  ; 
For  what  was  ever  understood. 
By  human  kind,  but  flesh  and  l^ood  i 
And  if  your  flesh  and  blood  be  new. 
You  '11  be  DO  more  the  former  you  ; 
But  for  a  blooming  nymph  will  pass, 
Just  fifteen,  oomhig  summer's  grass. 
Your  jetty  locks  with  garlands  crown'd  t 
While  all  the  'squires  for  nine  miles  round. 
Attended  by  a  brace  of  curs. 
With  jocky  boots  and  silver  sporsy 
No  less  than  justices  t^qu&ntmf 
Their  cow-boys  bearing  doaks  before  'em^ 
Shall  leave  deciding  broken  patesv 
To  ktBS  your  steps  at  Quilca  gatel 
But,  lest  yon  should  my  skill  disgrace^ 
Gome  back  beforo  your  're  out  of  case: 
For  if  to  Michaelmas  you  stay, 
The.new-bom  flesh  will  melt  away ; 
The  'squire  in  scorn  will  fly  the  house 
For  be^r  game,  and  look  for  grouse; 
But  here,  before  the  front  Can  mar  it. 
We  '11  make  it  finn  with  beef  and  claiet 


STELLA*S  BIRTN'DAYs    1734^5. 

As,  when  a  beauteous  nymph  decays, 
We  say,  she's  past  her  danciug-dajr*  i 
|3o  poets  lose  their  foet  by  time, 
And  can  no  longer  dance  in  rhyme. 
Your  annual  bard  had  rather  chose 
To  celebrate  your  birth  in  prostf : 
Yet  merry  folks,  who  want  by  chanca 
A  pair  to  make  a  country-dande, 
Csll  the  old  house^keeper,  and  gti  her 
To  fill  a  place,  for  want  of  better : 
While  Sheridan  is  off  the  hooks. 
And  firiend  Delany  at  his  books. 
That  Stella  may  avoid  di8gi:aoe» 
Once  more  the  dean  supplies  their  place* 

Beauty  and  wit,  too  sad  a  truth  1 
Kave  always  been  oonftn'd  to  jimtb; 


The  god  of  wit,  and  beaiitjr't  qdeei* 

He  twenty-one,  and  she  fifteen. 

No  poet  ever  sweetly  sung, 

tJnless  he  were,  like  Phobbus,  young  | 

Nor  ever  nymph  inspired  to  rhjrmey 

Unless,  like  Venus  in  her  prima. 

At  fifty-sa,  if  this  be  true. 

Am  I  a  poet  fit  for  you  ? 

Or,  at  the  age  of  forty-three. 

Are  you  a  subject  fit  for  me  ? 

Adieu  !  bright  wit,  and  radiant  eyes  1 

Vou  must  be  grave,  and  I  be  wise. 

Our  fote  in  tain  wfe  would  oppose : 

But  I  '11  be  still  your  friend  in  prose  i 

Esteem  and  friendship  to  express. 

Will  not  require  poetic  dress; 

And,  if  the  Muse  deny  her  aid 

Td  have  them  sung,  they  may  be  nmL 

But,  Stella,  say,  what  evil  tongue 
Reports  you  are  no  longer  3roung; 
That  Time  sits,  with  his  scythe,  to  mow 
Where  erst  sat  Cupid  with  his  bow  ; 
That  half  your  locks  are  tura'd  to  grey  t 
I  'IUre*er  believe  a  wofd  they  say. 
'Tis  true,  but  let  it  not  be  known. 
My  eyes  are  somewhat  dimmish  grown  t 
For  Nature,  always  in  the  right. 
To  your  decays  adapts  my  sight  f 
And  wrinkles  undistinguish'd  pass. 
For  {  'm  ashamed  to  use  a  glass ; 
And  till  I  see  them  with  these  eyes« 
Whoever  says  you  have  them,  lies. 

No  length  of  time  can  make  you  quit 
Honour  and  virtue,  sense  and  wit : 
Thus  yon  may  still  be  young  to  me, 
While  I  can  better  hear  than  Me. 
Oh  ne'er  may  Fortune  show  her  ^gbt. 
To  make  me  de^f,  and  mend  my  tight  f 


AN  EPIGRAM 

Off  wood's  SEASS  MOMXf . 

Caetiait  was  welcom'd  to  the  shore 

First  with  the  brasen  cannon's  roar; 

To  meet  him  neat  tlie  soldier  comes. 

With  brazen  trumps  and  brazen  drama; 

Approaching  near  the  town  he  hean 

The  brazen  bells  salute  his  ears : 

But,  when  Wood's  brass  began  to  aoimd, 

Quns,  trumfvts,  drums,  and  bells,  were  diava'^ 


A  SIMILE, 
ON  OUR  WANT  OF  SILVER: 

Aim  TBI  OMLT  WAT  TO  EtmBT  IT.      Vt^L 

As  when  of  okl  some  sorceress  threw 
O'er  the  Moon's  ikoe  a  sable  hue. 
To  drive  unseen  her  ma^ic  chair. 
At  midnight,  through  the  darken'd  air| 
Wise  people,  who  befiev'd  with  teaaoA 
That  this  eclipse  was'  out  of  season,       ^ 
Affirm'd  the  Moon  was  sick,  and  fett 
To  cure  her  by  a  tooater-^lL 


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ON  WOOD  THE  IRONMONGER, 


445 


Ten  thousand  cymbals  now  begin 
To  rend  the  sides  with  brazen  din ; 
The  cymbals'  rattling  soands  dispel 
The  cloud,  and  drive  tb6  hag  to  HelU 
The  Moon,  dehver'd  from  ber  pain, 
I>ispla3r8  her  nlver  hce  again 
(Note  here,  that  in  the  chemic  style. 
The  Moon  is  silver  kW  this  while). 

So  (if  my  simile  you  minded, 
Which  J  confess  is  too  long-winded) 
When  late  a  feminine  magician  *| 
Join'd  w|tb  a  brazen  politician, 
'bpot^d,  to  blind  the  natioq's  eyes, 
A  parchment  ^  of  prodigious  size  ^ 
Coooeafd  behind  that  ample  screen. 
There  was  no  silver  to  be  seen. 
But  to  this  parchment  let  the  Drapier 
Oppose  his  counter>obarm  of  paper. 
And  ring  Wood's  copper  in  our  ears 
So  loud  till  all  the  nation  hears ; 
-That  sound  will  make  the  parchment  shrivel, 
And  drive  the  oonjurprs  to  the  devil : 
And,  when  th^  s\f  is  grown  serene. 
Our  nlver  wU^.i^ppear  agam. 


WOOD  AN  INSECT.    1705, 

'Br  longobservatiop  I  have  understood. 
That  two  litUe  vermin  are  kin  to  Will  Wood, 
The  first  b  ao  insect  they  call  a  tcoocf-louse. 
That  folds  up  Hself  in  itself  for  a  bouse, 
As  round  as  a  ball,  without  bead,  without  tail, 
'Eneloe^d  cap^-pe  in  a  strong  coat  of  mail. 
And  thus  William  Wood  to  my  &ncy  appears 
In  fillets  of  brass  roU'd  up  to  his  ears : 
And  over  these  fillets  be  wisely  has  thrown, 
•To  keep  out  of  danger,  a  doublet  of  stone  ^. . 
The  louse  of  the  vwid  for  a  medicine  is  ua'd, 
Or  twellow'd  alive,  or  skilfully  bruis'd. 
And,  let  but  our  mother  Hibcnuia  contrive 
To  swallow  Will  Wood  either  bruis*d  or  alive. 
She  need  be  no  more  with  the  jaundice  possest. 
Or  sick  of  ohttructiims,  and  pains  in  her  ehesL 
The  ne^Ft  is  an  insect  we  call  a  wood-worm. 
That  hes  in  old  wood  Uke  a  hare  in  ber  form ! 
With  teeth  or  with  claws  it  will  bite  or  will  scratchy 
And  chambermaids  chnsten  this  worm  a  dead  watch. 
Because  like  a  watch  it  always  cries  click  : 
Then  woe  be  to  those  in  the  house  who  are  sick ; 
For,  as  sure  as  a  gun,  tbey  will  give  up  the  gfaort. 
If  the  maggot  cries  click  when  it  scratdies  the  po«(. 
But  a  kettle  of  aoalding  bat  water  injected   ^ 
InCdlibly  oorea  the  timber  afiected: 
The  omen  is  broken,  the  danger  is  over ; 
The  maggot  will  die,  and  the  sick  will  recover. 
Such  a  worm  wi^  WiU  Wood,  when  he  scratched  at 

the  door 
Of  a  governing  statesman  or  fisvourite  whore : 
The  death  of  our  nation  he  seem'd  to  foretell. 
And  the  sound  of  his  brasa  we  took  for  our  knelL 
But  now,  since  the  Drapier  hath  heartily  maul'd  him, 
I  think  the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  scald  han. 

1 A  greal  lady  was  said  to  have  been  bribfd  fa|y 
Wood. 
*  The  pataot  for  ooraing  half-poiQei 
*>HewMhigiolferdabt 


For  which  operation  there  *9  nothing  more  proper 
Than  the  liquor  he  deals  in,  his  own  meltM  oopper ; 
Unless,  like  the  Dutch,  you  rather  would  boil  - 
This  coiner  of  raps  <  in  a  cauldron  of  oil.      [foggot. 
Then  chuse  which  you  please,  and  let  each  bring  a 
Forourfear^sat  an  end  with  thedeath  of  the  maggot. 


ON  WOOD  THE  JRON-MONQBR.    1795, 

Salmonivs,  as  the  Grecian  tale  is. 
Was  a  mad  copper-amith  of  Elis  ; 
Up  at  his  forge  by  morning-peep. 
No  creature  in  the  lane  could  sleep; 
Among  a  crew  of  roystering  fellows 
Would  sit  whole  evenings  at  the  alehouse ; 
His  wife  and  children  wanted  bread. 
While  he  went  always  drunk  to  bed. 
This  vapouring  scab  miist  needs  deviie 
To  ape  the  thunder  of  the  slues : 
With  brau  two  fiery  steeds  he  shod. 
To  make  a  chittering  as  they  trod. 
Of  polish'4  Ifrau  his  flaming  car 
Like  lightning  dazzled  from  afar; 
And  up  he  mounts  into  the  box. 
And  he  must  thunder,  with  a  pm^ 
Then  furious  he  begins  his  march, 
Drives  rattling  o'er  a  brazen  arch ; 
With  squibs  and  crackers  arm'd,  to  throw 
Among  the  trembling  crowd  below. 
All  ran  to  prayers,  both  priests  and  laity. 
To  pacify  this  angry  deity : 
When  Jove,  in  pity  to  the  town. 
With  real  thunder  knock'd  him  down. 
Then  what  a  huge  delight  were  all  in. 
To  see  the  wicked  varlet  sprawling ; 
They  searched  his  pockets  on  the  place. 
And  found  his  copper  all  was  base ; 
They  laughed  at  such  an  Irish  blonder. 
To  Uke  the  noise  of  brass  for  thunder. 

The  moral  of  this  tale  is  proper, 
Apply'd  to  Wood'9  adulteT'd  copper  } 
Which,  as  he  scattered,  we  like  dolts. 
Mistook  at  first  for  thunder-bolts  ; 
Before  the  Drapier  shot  a  letter, 
(Nor  Jove  himself  cou|d  dp  it  better) 
Which,  lighthig  on  th'  impostor's  crown^ 
Like  leal  thunder  l^nock'd  him  down. 


fntL  WOOD^S  PETmOJf 

TO  THE  PEOPLE  OF  IRELAND; 

•inco  AN  azcsLLBirr  mw  sono,  sorrosso  re  as 

BlAim,  ATin  SVHO   IK  TBI  STaBBTS  OP  DUBLIN,   BY 
WII*LIAM    WOOD,    IIOH-MONGBa'AMn  ■▲LPnitilT- 
MOKGBB.      1725. 


Mr  dear  IriA  folks. 
Gome  leave  off  your  jokes, 

And  buy  up  my  half-pence  so  fiaei 
So  foir  and  so  bnght. 
They  'U  give  you  delight; 

Observe  how  they  glisten  and  fhiael 

«  Comititrleit  half-peiiQ% 


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SWIFTS  POEMS. 


T%ef  11  mA\,  to  mf  giiei; 

As  cheap  as  neck  beef, 
For  counters  at  cards  to  your  vife|  . 

And  creiy  day 

Your  children  may  play 
ajpan-farthing,  or  toss  on  the  MftL  ^ 

Come  hith<T,  and  try; 

I'  '11  teach  you  to  buy 
A  pot  of  good  ale  for  a  farthmg ) 

Come ;  three-pence  a  scoroy 

I  ask  yon  no  more, 
And  a  6g  for  the  Drapier  and  Hardiuge  >« 

When  tradesmen  have  gold, 

The  thief  will  he  bold. 
By  night  and  by  day  for  to  rob  him: 

My  copper  is  such. 

No  robbeawill  touch, 
And  so  you  may  daintily  bob  him* 

The  little  bUckguard, 

Who  gets  very  hard 
His  half-pence  for  cleaning  your  sboes| 

When  his  pockets  are  cramni'd 

With  mine  and  be  d — *d. 
He  may  swear  be  has  nothing  to  lo8«r 

Here  's  half-pence  in  plenty. 

For  one  you  *11  have  twenty, 
Hiough  thousands  are  not  worth  a  puddei^) 

Your  neighbours  will  think. 

When  your  pocket  cries  t^hink. 
You  are  grown  plaguy  rich  on  a  8uddeo« 

You  jrill  be  my  thankers, 

I  '11  make  you  my  bankers. 
As  good*as  Ben  Barton  or  Fade  *i 

For  nothing  shall  pass 

But  my  pretty  brass. 
And  then  you  Ml  be  aU  of  a  trad*. 

I  'm  a  son  of  a  .whore 

If  I  have  a  word  more 
To  say  in  this  wretched  oonditiou. 

If  my  coin  will  not  pass, 

I  must  die  like  an'  ass  j 
And  so  I  conclude  my  petition. 


J  JfEW  SONG 

OM   wood's  HALrH>BNCE. 

Tb  people  of  Ireland,  both  country  and  city, 
Come  listen  with  patience,  god  bc«r  out  my  ditty : 
At  this  time  I  *\\  chuse  to  be  wiser  than  witty. 

ifhifk  noMy  otfi  deny^ 
The  half-pence  are  coming,  the  natioii's  undoing* 
There 's  an  end  of  your  ploughing,  and  bakmg;  and 

brewing : 
•  In  short,  you  must  all  go  to  rack  and  to  ruin. 

IVkich,  &c. 

Both  high  men  and  low  meo^  and  thiok  men  and  tall 

men,  [men. 

And  rich  men  and  poor'men,aod  free  man  and  thrall 

Will  suffer:  and  this  m^n,  andthat  man,  and  all  men. 


iThe  Drapier's  printer. 


The  soldier  is  nun^d,  poor  nan !  by  hit  piqti 
His  five-pence  will  prove  but  a  farthing  a  day* 
For  meat,  or  for  drmk ;  or  he  must  run  away. 

When  he  pulls  out  his  two-pence,  the  tapster  saytvt^ 
That  ten  times  as  much  he  must  pay  for  his  shot; 
And  thus  the  poor  soldier  must  soon  go  tt^  pot 

If  he  goes  to  the  baker,  the  baker  will  buS; 
And  twenty-pence  have  for  a  two-penny  loaf, 
Theo,  dog,  rogue,  and  rascal,  and  so  Juck  and  ca& 

Hkick^kc, 
Again,  to  the  market  whenever  he  goes. 
The  bntoher  and  soldier  must  be  mortal  foes  ; 
One  cuts  off  an  ear,  and  the  other  a  nose. 

Hhiek,  ^ 
The  butcher  b  stout,  and  he  v^ues  no  swagger;  - 
A  cleaver  's  a  match  any  time  for  a  dagger. 
And  a  blue  sleeve  may  give  such  a  cuffas  may  staggo; 

Hkick,kc 
The  beggars  themselves  will  be  broke  in  a  trice, 
When  thus  their  poor  farthings  are  sunk  in  tbeii  piiesi 
When  nothing  is  left,  they  must  live  on  their  hoe. 

The  squire  possess'd  of  twelve  thousand  a  year, 

0  lord  !  what  a  mountain  his  rents  would  appear ! 
Should  he  t^e  them,  he  would  not  have  boose  room,  I 

fear,  Wkick,  *€, 

Though  at  present  he  hves  in  a  very  large  honse, 
Tl^re  would  then  not  be  room  in  it  left  fx  a  mousey 
But  the  squire  's  too  wise,  he  wUI  not  take  a  souse. 

If-^dk,  kc 
The  farmer,  who  comes  with  his  rent  in  this  cads 
IQor  taking  these  counters,  and  being  so  rash, 
Wdl  be  kkd^d  out  of  doors,  both  himalf  and  iMtiasfc. 

For,  in  all  ^e  leases  that  ever  we  hold. 

We  must  pay  our  rent  in  good  sihrer  and  gold. 

And  not  in  brass  tokens  of  such  a  base  monM, 

The  wisest  of  lawyers  all  swear,  they  wiU  wairant 
No  money  but  silver  and  gold  can  be  current :  [oaX 
And,  since  they  will  swear  it,  we  all  may  be  rars 

WhicM,  ke. 
And  I  think,  after  all,  it  would  be  very  strange 
To  give  current  money  for  base  in  excAiange, 
Ldce  a  fine  lady  swi^q^  her  moles  for  thenaMe^ 

But  read  the  king^s  patent,  and  there  yoo  will  find. 
That  no  man  need  take  them  but  who  has  a  mind. 
For  which  we  must  say  that  his  auijesty  's  kind. 

Whick,kc. 
Nosr  God  bless  the  Drapier  who  openM  our  ejres ! 

1  *m  sure,  by  his  book,  that  the  writer  is  wisfe ; 
He  sboirs  us  the  cheat  from  the  end  to  the  rise. 

Nay,  faiiher  he  shows  it  a  very  hard  oaae. 
That  this  folk>w  Wood,  of  a  very  bad  race. 
Should  of  all  the  fine  gentry  of  Ivelaod  take  places 

nwt  he  and  his  half-pence  should  come  to  wei|^ 
Our  Bol^ects  so  loyal  and  true  to  the  crown ;  [dosRt 
But  I  hope,  after  all,  tUt  they  wiU  he  bis  own. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


TO  DR.  SHERIDAN. 


44/ 


Thb  book,  I  do  ieH  you,  is  wnt  for  yoor  goods. 
And  a  very  good  book  against  Mr,  Wood's ; 
If  you  stand  true  together,  be  's  left  in  tbe  suds. 

Ye  shopmen  and  tradesmen,  and  farmers,  go  read  it. 

For  1  tiunk  in  my  soul  at  this  time  that  you  need  it ; 

Or  egad,  if  you  don*t,^there  *san  end  of  your  credit 

Which  nobodt^  can  dtujf^ 


A  SERIOUS  POEM 

UPOir   VILLUM   "WOOPj 

Brasier,  Tmker,  Uardwareman,  Coinac,  Founder, 
and  Esquire. 

Whbn  fbec  are  o'ercome  we  presenre  them  from 

slaughter. 
To  be  hextert  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water. 
Now,  although  to  draw  water  is  not  very  good  ; 
Yet  we  all  should  rejoice  to  be  hexaert  qf  kVood* 
I  own,  it  tuui  often  provok-d  me  to  mutter. 
That  a  rogue  so  obscure  should  make  su€h&  dutter : 
But  ancient  philosophers  wisely  Temack» 
That  old  rotten  Wood  wiH  sWse  in  the  dark. 
The  IteitheM  we  read,  had  godi  made  of  Wo^^ 
Who  could  do  them  do  harm,  if  they  did  them  no 
But  this  idol  Wood  may  do  us  great  evil ;     [good : 
Tbeir  gods  were  of  Woodi   but  oar  Wood  is  the 

To  cat  down  fine  Wood^  is  a  vecy  bad  thing ; 
And  yet  we  all  know  much  gold  it  will  bring. 
Then,  if  cutting  down  H<Bodbri*gs  money  good  store. 
Our  Boney  to  keep,  let  us  ciu  doven  ome  mort. 

Now  hear  an  old  talc    There  aneieotly  stood 
(I  forget  in  whajt  chnrch)  an  image  of  Wood^ 
Concerning  this  ioiag«  there  weni  a  predictioa. 
It  would  burn  a  whcfle /or«t^  ;  nar  was  it  a  fictwn. 
nVas  cut  mto  fa^^ota  and  put  to  the  ftaae. 
To  bum  an  old  friar,  one  For9*t  by  name. 
My  tale  is  a  wise  one,  if  w^  und^tood  : 
Find  you  botthe/rt«r;  and  I '11  find  tiie  Wood. 

I  hear,  among  scholars  there  is  a  great  doubt 
From  what  kind  of  tree  this  Wood  was  hewn  out 
Teague  made  a  good  pun  by  a  brogite'm  his  speech; 
And  said.  By  my  shoui,  htU  the  ton  qf  a  BaacH. 
SouM  call  him  a  TAoni,  the  curse  of  the  nation. 
As  Thorns  were  designed  to  be  frona  the  creation. 
Some  think  him  cut  out  from  the  poisonous  Ytw^ 
]3eneath  whose  ill  shade  no  plant  ever  grew. 
Some  say  be  *s  a  Birch,  a  thooght  very  odd ; 
For  none  but  a  dunet  would  oome  under  his  rod. 
But  I  HI  tell  you  the  secret;  but  pray  do  not  blab ; 
He  is  an  old  stump  cut  out  of  a  Crab  i 
And  England  has  pot  this  Crab  to  a  hard  use. 
To  cudgel  our  bones,  and  for  drink  give  us  verjuice  ; 
And  therefore  his  xeitnesses  ivutij  may  boast. 
That  none  are  more  properly  knights  of  the  Post. 

I  ne'er  could  endure  my  talent  to  smother ; 
I  told  you  one  tale,  and  I  '11  tell  you  another. 
A  Joiner,  to  €uten  a  saint  in  a  nitch, 
Bor'd  a  large  auger-hole  in  the  image's  breech ; 
3^  find'rag  the  statue  to  make  no  complaint. 
He  would  ne'er  be  convinced  it  was  a  true  saint., 
When  the  true  Wood  arrives,  as  he  soon  will,  no 

doubt, 
(For  that  'a  but  a  sham  Wood  they  carry  aboot  >) 
What  i/t(/f  he  is  made  of  you  quickly  may  find, 
Jf  you  make  th^  same  trial,  and  bore  hon  bikitd* 

&  Be  was  frequently  bvn^  in  afigy. 


I  H\  hold  you  a  groat,  when  you  xeiwible  hif  bum^ 
He  '11  bellow  as  loud  as  the  Devil  in  a  drum. 
From  me,  1  declare,  you  shall  have  no  denial  ^ 
And  thera  can  be  no  barm  in  makmg  a  trial : 
And,  when  to  the  joy  of  your  hearts  he  has  ruar*d. 
You  may  show  him  about  for  a  new  groaning  board* 

Hear  one  story  more,  and, then  I  will  stop. 
I  dreamt  Wood  was  told  he  should  die  by  a  drop; 
So  methought  he  resolved  no  liquor  to  taste. 
Fur  fear  the  Jirst  drop  might  as  well  be  his  tasL 
But  dffoaMare  like  oracles ;  'tis  hard  to  explain  'em  { 
For  it  prov'd  that  he  died  of  a  drop  at  feUlmaiuham  <• 
I  wak'd  with  delight;  and  not  without  bope. 
Very  soon  to  see  h^ood  drop  down  from  a  rope. 
How  he !  and  bow  we,  at  each  other  should  gprin  I 
'Tis  kindness  to  hold  a  friend  up  by  the  chiiL 
But  soft  !  says  the  herald ;  I  cannot  agree  ; 
For  vietat  on  metal  is  &lse  heraldry. 
Why  that  may  be  true  ;  yet  kt'ood  upon  Woodg 
I  'U  maintain  with  my  life,  is  hetaldry  good. 


TO  DR.  SHERIDAK 

Dec.  14, 1719  3,  9atmgMr 
Sit, 

k  is  impesable  to  know  by  your  letter  wbether  tl^ 
wine  is  to  be  bottled  to  morrow,  or  no. 

If  it  be,  or  be  not,  why  did  not  you,  in  plain  English^ 
tell  us  so  ? 

For  my  part,  it  was  by  mere  chance  I  came  to  sit  with 
the  ladies  *  this  night : 

And  if  they  had  not  told  me  there  was  a  letter  from 
you ;  and  your  man  Alexander  had  not  gone, 
and  come  back  from  the  deanry;  and  the  boy 
here  had  not  been  sent  to  let  Alexander  know  I 
was  here  ;  I  should  have  missed  the  letter  out- 
right 

Truly  I  don't  know  who  's  bound  to  be  sendmg  for 
corks  to  stop  your  bottles,  with  a  vengeance. 

Make  a  page  of  your  own  age,  and  send  your  man 
Alexander  to  buy  corks ;  for  Saunders  already 
has  gone  above  ten  jaunts. 

Mrs.  Dingley  and  Mrs.  Johnson  say,  truly  they  dont 
care  for  your  wife's  company,  though  they  like 
your  wine ;  but  they  had  rather  have  it  at  thdr 
own  house  to  drink  in  quiet 

However,  they  own  it  is  very  civil  in  Mr.  Sheridan  Ut 
make  the  oflier :  and  they  cannot  deny  it 

I  wish  Alexander  safe  at  St  Catharine's  to  night, 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  upon  my  word  and 
honour: 

But  I  think  it  base  in  you  to  send  a  poor  fellow  out 
so  late  at  this  time  of  year,  when  one  would  not 
turn  out  a  dog  that  one  valued  ;  1  appeal  to  your 
friend  Mr.  Connor. 

I  would  present  my  humble  Bcivicc  te  my  lady 
Mountcashel ;  but  truly  1  thought  she  would  have 
made  advances  to  have  been  acquainted  with  me, 
as  she  pretended. 

But  now  I  can  write  no  more,  for  yon  see  plainly  my 
paper  is  ended, 

1  P.  a 

I  wish,  when  jm  prated,  your  letter  yon  'd  dated: 
Much  plague  it  created.     I  scolded  wai  rated  ; 

«  Their  place  of  execution. 
3  This  b  probably  dated  too  early.  ' 

r     <  Ha>  J)m$ief*iad  Mn.  Jobmoi^  ' 


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44» 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


My tcmlitftiiieli grated;  for  joarmanllongwaiUd. 

I  diink  you  are  ftted,  like  a  bear  to  be  baited : 

Your  man  Is  belated ;  the  case  1  have  stated ; 

And  me  you  have  cheated.    My  stable  's  unslated. 

Come  back  t'  us  well  freigbte;^. 

I  remember  my  late  head ;  and  wish  you  translated. 

For  teasbg  me* 

8  P.S. 

Mrs.  Dingley  desires  me  singly  {yoa ; 

Her  serrioe  to  present  you ;  hopes  that  will  content 

But  Johnson  madam  is  grown  a  sad  dame. 

For  want  of  oonverse,  and  cannot  send  one  Terse.' 
3  P.  S. 

YoQ  Iceep  sach  a  twattUng  with  you  and  your  bot- 
tling; 

But  I  see  the  sum  total,  we  shall  neW  hare  a  bqtUe ; 

The  long  and  the  short,  we  shall  not  have  a  quart. 

I  wish  you  would  sign  %  that  we  have  a  pint 

For  all  your  collogumg,  I  'd  be  glad  of  a  knoggni : 

But  I  doubt  tis  a  sham ;  you  wont  give  us  a  dram. 

TIs  of  shine  a  month  moon-full,  you  won't  part  with 
aspoonfttl; 

And  I  must  be  nfQ>ble»  if  I  cui  fin  my  thimMe. 

You  see  I  wont  stop,  till  I  come  to  a  dfx)p  ? 

But  I  doubt  the  oracnlum  is  a  poor  supernaculum ; 

lliongh  perhaps  you  tell  it,  for  a  gra^  if  we  smell 
it. 


If  my  wife  is  not  willing  t  say  flhe  *8  a  qneaw  | 

And  my  right  to  the  cellar,  ^ad,  I'll  maiotani 

As  bravely  as  any  that  fought  at  Dunbhun : 

Go  tell  it  her  over  and  over  again. 

I  hope,  as  I  ride  to  the  town,  it  wont  rain ; 

For,  should  it,  I  fear  it  will  cool  my  hot  brain. 

Entirely  extinguish  my  poetic  vein  ; 

And  then  I  should  be  as  stupid  as  Kain,  [but  twain. 

Who  preached  on  three  heads,  though  he  mendon^ 

Now  Wardel  's  in  haste,  and  begins  to  oompUn ; 

Your  most  humble  servant,  Dear  Sir,  I  remain, 

T.S-w, 
Get  Helsham,  Walmnley,  Delany, 
And  some  Orattans,  if  there  be  any  > : 
Take  care  you  do  not  bid  too  many. 


TO  SUILCA, 

A  covmrar-HOUsi  op  xmu  sestiDAM^ 
IM  MO  VBat  coon  aaPAit.  1795. 

XsT  me  thy  properties  explain : 
A  rotten  cabbin  dropping  rain ; 
Chinraiet  with  soom  rejecting  smoke  | 
Stools,  tables,  chairs,  and  beadsteadt  broke. 
Hei«  elements  have  lost  their  nses^ 
Air  ripens  not,  nor  earth  produces  j 
In  vam  we  make  poor  Sheelah  i  toil, 
Fh«  will  not  roast  nor  water  bdl. 
Throu{^  all  the  valleys,  hills,  and  plahM^ 
The  goddess  Want  in  triumph  reigns; 
And  her  chief  officers  of  state, 
91oth,  Piit,  and  Thcfi»  around  her  wait. 


Yn  BtltSmCS  OF  £  CGOirraT  LIFK.    1*725. 

FAR  from  our  debtors;  no  Dublin  letters ( 
iTot  seen  1^  nor  betters. 


TW  fLAOVsa  OP  A  couimr  lipb. 

A  companioii  with  news  ;  a  great  want  of  shoes ; 
Eat  lean  meat,  or  chuse :  a  church  without  pewsL 
Out  horses  astray ;  no  straw,  oats  or  hay  ;rat  play. 
December  in  May ;  oiur  boys  run  away ;  all  servants 

DR.  SHERIDAN  TO  DR.  SWIFT. 

I  *»  ha*pe  yon  to  know,  as  sure  as  yon  're  deia. 
On  Thursday  my  ca»k  of  Obrien  I  *ll  (*^--  - 
1  Tba  nanfi  <)f  an  Iri3b  aervaiiti 


DR.  SfrihTS  AN^FER, 

Tna  verses  you  sent  on  the  bottling  jrour  wine 

Were,  in  every  one's  judgment,  exceedingly  fine| 

And  I  must  confess,  as  a  dean  and  divine^ 

1  think  you  hapir'd  by  the  Muses  all  nioa^ 

I  nicely  examined  them  every  line. 

And  the  worst  of  them  all  like  a  barn-door  did  ^ina« 

Ob ,  that  Jove  would  give  me  such  a  talent  as  thine  1 

With  Delany  or  Dan  I  would  scorn  to  combine. 

I  know  they  have  many  a  wicked  design ; 

And,  give  Satan  his  due,  Dan  begins  to  refine. 

Howe^ner,  I  wish,  h{*naX  eomrade  of  mine. 

You  would  really  on  lliursday  leave  SL  Catharine  ^ 

Where  1  hear  you  are  crammed  every  day  like  a  twm^ 

With  me  joa  '11  no  more  have  a  stomach  to  dine, 

Nor  after  jraur  victuals  lie  sleeping  snpiae : 

So  I  wish  you  were  toothless,  like  lord-Masserine. 

But,  were  you  as  wicked  as  lewd  Arettne, 

I  wish  yon  would  tdl  me  whioh  way  you  incline. 

If,  when  ^oa  return,  your  road  you  dont  Ime, 

On  Thursday  I  Ml  pay  my  respects  at  jruur  shiine^ 

Wherever  you  bend,  wherever  joa  twine, 

In  square,  or  b  opposite  circle,  or  trinew 

Your  beef  will  on  Thunday  be  Salter  than  brine : 

I  hope  you  have  swilPd,  with  new  milk  from  the  kins^ 

As  much  as  the  Liffee  's  outdooe  by  the  Rhine ; 

And  Dan  shall  be  with  us,  with  nose  aipiiline. 

If  you  do  not  come  back,  we  shalf  weep  out  our  eyne? 

Or  may  y«ir  gown  never  be  good  Lutherise. 

The  beef  you  have  got,  1  hear,  is  a  chine : 

But,  if  too  many  come,  your  madam  will  whhie; 

And  then  you  may  kiss  the  low  end  of  her  spmew 

But  enough  of  this  poetry  Alexandrine : 

1  hope  you  will  not  think  this  Apasfume. 


A  PORTRAIT 

PaOM  THB  LIPS. 

Comb  sit  by  my  side,  while  thia picture  I  drawp 
In  chattering  a  magpie,  in  pride  a  jackdaw  ; 
A  temper  the  devil  himself  could  not  bridle  ; 
Impertinent  mixture  of  busy  and  idle ; 
As  rude  as  a  bear,  no  mule  half  so  crabbed  ; 
She  twills  Hke  a  sow,  and  she  breeds  like  a  rabUti 
A  house  wifo  in  bed,  at  table  a  slattern ; 
For  all  an  example,  for  no  one  a  pattern. 

1  i.  «.  in  Dublin,  for  they  were  country  eheify. 
9  The  aeat  of  lady  Mountcaihel,  mu  DnbUai 


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THE  8T0RM. 


m 


Now  tell  me,  tnend  Thoains  ■,  Ford  *,  Orattao  3, 

and  merry  Dao  *, 
Has  tbifl  aoy  Ukraess  to  good  madam  Sheridan  ? 


UPON  STEALING  A  CROWN 

WHEN   THE   DEAN    WAS   ASLEEP. 
BY  DR.  SHEimAlC. 

Dbae  Dean,  shice  you  in  sleepy  wise 

Have  op'd  your  mouth,  and  dos'd  your  eyes  ; 

like  ghost,  I  glide  along  your  floor. 

And  softly  shut  the  parlour-door : 

FSor,  should  I  break  your  sweet  repose. 

Who  knows  what  money  you  might  lose ; 

Since  oftentimes  it  has  been  (bund, 

A  dream  has  given  ten  thousand  pound  ? 

Then  sleep,  my  friend ;  dear  dean,  sleep  oo. 

And  all  you  get  shall  be  jrour  own  i 

Provided  you  to  this  agree, 

That  all  y«u  lose  bekmgs  to  me. 


THE  DEAN'S  ANSfVER. 

So,  about  twelve  at  night,  the  punk 
Steals  from  the  cully  when  1^  's  drunk ; 
Nor  is  contented  with  a  treat, 
Without  her  privilege  to  cheat 
Nor  can  I  the  least  difference  find. 
But  that  jqfi  left  no  clap  behind. 
But,  jest  apart,  restore,  you  cajioo  ye. 
My  twelve  thirteens  ^  and  six-pence  ha'penny. 
To  eat  my  meat,  and  drink  my  mediicot» 
And  then  to  give  me  such  a  deadly  cut- 
But  *tis  observ*d,  that  men  in  gowns 
Are  most  inclin'd  to  plunder  croxns. 
Could  you  but  change  a  Crown  as  easy 
As  you  can  steal  one,  how  'twould  please  ye ! 
I  thought  the  hidy  at  St  Catharine's  « 
Knew  how  to  set  you  better  pattemn ; 
For  this  I  will  uot  dine  with  Aginomlihham  ^, 
And  for  his  victuals  let  a  ragman  dish  'em* 


THE  STORM: 

liIM£RVA*S   PETITION. 

Pallas,  a  godden  chaste  and  wise. 
Descending  lately  from  the  skies. 
To  Neptune  went,  and  begg'd  in  fbrm 
He  'd  give  his  orders  for  a  storm ; 
A  itonn,  to  drown  that  rascal  Horte, 
Aai  she  would  kindly  thank  him  for  t : 

>  Dr.  Thomas  Sheridan, 
s  Charies  Ford  of  Woodpark,  Esq. 
'  Reverend  John  Orattao, 
^Reverend  Daniel  Jackson. 
^  A  shilling  passeth  for  thtrteen-pe&ce  in  Ireland. 
*  Lady  Mountcashel. 

'^  Agmondisham  Vesey,  esq.  a  very  worthy  gen- 
tleman, for  whom  the  4mu  bad  a  giMt 
VOL.  XL 


A  wretoh !  whom  English  rognes,  to  spite  her» 
Had  lately  honour'd  with  a  mitre. 

The  god,  who  favoured  her  request, 
Aisur'd  her  he  would  do  his  best : 
But  Venus  bad  been  there  before. 
Pleaded  the  bishop  lov*d  a  whore. 
And  had  enlarged  her  empire  wide  ; 
He  own'd  no  deity  beside. 
At  sea  or  land,  if  e'er  you  found  liim 
Without  a  mistress,  hang  or  drown  him. 
Since  .Burnet's  death,  the  bishops*  bench, 
TiU  Horte  arrivM,  ne'er  kqyt  a  wench : 
If  Horte  must  smk.  she  grieves  to  teU  it. 
She  'It  not  have  left  one  single  prelate  , 
For,  to  say  truth,  she  did  intend  him, 
Elect  of  Cyprus  tn  eommemdam. 
And,  since  her  birth  the  ocean  gave  her. 
She  could  not  doubt  her  uncle's  fiaivour. 

Then  Proteus  urg'd  the  same  request,     < 
But  half  in  earnest,  half  in  jest ; 
Said  he—*'  Great  sovereign  of  the  main. 
To  drown  him  all  attempts  are  vain; 
Horte  can  assume  more  forms  than  I, 
A  rake,  a  bully,  pimp,  or  spy ; 
Can  creep  or  run,  or  fly  or  swim  ; 
All  n^otions  are  alike  to  him : 
Turn  hin^  adrift,  and  you  shall  find 
He  knows  to  sail  with  every  wind ; 
Or,  throw  him  overboard,  he  Ml  ride 
As  well  against,  as  with  the  tide. 
But,  Pallas,  you  've  apply'd  too  late  ; 
For  'tis  decreed,  by  Jove  and  fate. 
That  Ireland  must  be  soon  dostroy'd. 
And  who  but  Horte  can  be  employ'd  ? 
You  need  not  then  have  been  so  pert, 
In  sending  Bolton  ^  to  Clonfert. 
I  found  you  did  it,  by  your  grhmhig  ; 
Vour  business  is,  to  mind  your  spinning. 
But  how  you  came  to  interpose 
In  making  bishops,  no  one  knows : 
Or  who  regarded  your  report  f 
For  never  were  you  seen  at  court. 
And  if  3rou  must  have  your  petition. 
There  's  Berkeley  ^  in  the  same  conditions 
Look,  there  he  stands,  and  'tis  but  just. 
If  one  must  drown,  the  other  must ; 
But,  if  you  'U  leave  us  bishop  Judas, 
We  '11  give  you  Berkeley  for  Bermudas. 
Now,  if  twill  gratify  your  spite. 
To  put  him  in  a  plaguy  fright. 
Although  'tis  hardly  worth  the  cost, 
You  soon  shall  see  him  soundly  tost. 
You  'II  find  him  swear,  blaspheme,  and  damn 
(And  every  moment  teke  a  dram) 
His  ghastly  visage  with  an  air 
Of  reprobation  and^ despair : 
Or  else  some  hiding-hole  he  seeks. 
For  fear  the  rest  should  say  he  squeaks  ; 
Or,  as  Fitzpatrick  ^  did  before, 
Resolve  to  perish  with  his  whore ; 
Or  else  he  rav^,  and  roars,  aad  swears. 
And,  but  for  shame,  would  say  his  prayerik 

>  Afterwards  archbishop  of  Cashell. 

8  Dr.  George  Berkeley,  dean  of  Derry,  and  after* 
wards  bishop  of  Cloyne. 

3  Brigadier  Fitzpatrick  was  drowned  in  one  of  the 
packet-bgats  in  the  bay  of  Dublin^  in  a  great  storm 
.    Go 


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by  G00gl( 


uo 


SWIFTS  POEMS* 


Or,  wDuId  yoQ  see  his  spirits  sink, 
Belaxing  downwards  in  a  fllink  ? 
If  such  a  sight  a^  this  can  please  ye, 
Good  mada^  Pallas,  pray  be  easy, 
To  Neptune  speak,  and  he  *\\  consent ; 
But  he  '11  come  bock  the  knave  he  went." 

The  goddess  who  conceived  an  hope 
That  Horte  was  destined  to  a  rope, 
Believ'd  it  best  to  condescend 
To  spare  a  foe,  to  save  a  friend  : 
But,  fearing  Berkeley  might  be  8car*d, 
She  left  him  virtue  for  a  guard. 


ODE  ON  SCIENCE. 

Oh,  heavenly  bora !  in  deepest  dells 
If  fairest  Science  ever  dwells 
Beneath  the  mossy  cave ; 
Indulge  the  verdure  of  the  woods  j 
With  azure  beauty  gild  the  floods. 

And  flowery  carpets  lave ;  ^ 

For  melancholy  ever  reigns 
Delighted  in  the  sylvan  scenes 

With  scientiflc  (ight ; 
While  Dian,  huntress  of  the  vales, 
Seeks  lolling  sounds  and  &nning  gales, 

Though  wrapt  Irom  morUl  sight 
Yet,  goddess,  yet  the  way  explore 
With  magic  rites  and  heathen  lor« 

Obstructed  and  depressed  j 
Till  wisdom  give  the  sacred  nine. 
Untaught,  not  uninspired,  to  shine. 

By  reason's  power  redress'd. 
When  Solon  and  Lycurgus  taught 
To  moralize  the  hunum  thoogfat 

Of  mad  opinion's  maze, 
To  erring  zeal  they  gave  new  laws. 
Thy  charms,  O  liberty,  the  cause 

That  blends  cougenml  rays. 
Bid  bright  Astnea  gild  the  mom. 
Or  bid  a  hohdred  suns  be  born, 

To  hecatomb  the  year ; 
Without  thy  aid,  in  vain  the  poles. 
In  vain  the  zodiac  system  rolls, 

In  vain  thc'lonar  sphere. 
Come,  iairest  princess  of  the.  throng. 
Bring  swift  philo8c»hy  akmg 

In  metaiAiysic  dreams ; 
While  laptur'd  bards  no  more  behold 
A  vernal  age  of  purer  gold 

In  Heliconian  streams. 
Drive  thraldom  with  malignant  hand. 
To  curse  some  other  destined  land 

By  folly  led  astray : 
lerne  bear  on  azure  wing ; 
Energic  let  her  soar,  and  sing 

Thy  universal  sway. 
So,  when  Amphkin  bade  the  lyie 
To  RKwre  majestic  sound  aspire, 
Behold  the  madding  throng. 
In  Wonder  and  oblivion  droipi'd. 
To  sculpture  tura'd  by  magic  sound 
And  petrifyiog  song. 


STELLA'S  BUtTH'BAtt 

MAtcH  13,  1726w 

This  day,  whatever  the  Fates  decree. 
Shall  still  be  kept  with  joy  by  me; 
This  day  then  let  us  not  be  toW, 
That  yon  are  sick,  and  I  grown  oW  ; 
Nor  think  on  your  approaching  ills. 
And  talk  of  spwitacles  and  pills : 
Tomorrow  will  be  time  enough 
To  hear  such  mortifying  stuff. 
Yet,  since  from  reason  may  be  bitwght 
A  better  and  more  pleasing  thought, 
Which  can,  in  spite  of  all  decays, 
Support  a  few  remaining  days ; 
From  not  the  gravest  of  divine 
Accept  for  opce  some  serious  lines. 

Although  we  now  can  form  no  moc« 
Long  schemes  of  life,  as  heretofore ; 
Yet  you,  while  time  is  running  fcst. 
Can  look  with  .ioy  on  what  is  past. 
Were  future  happiness  and  paid 
A  mere  contrivance  of  the  brain  | 
As  atheists  ^rgue,  to  entice 
And  fit  their  proselytes  for  vice 
(The  only  comfort  they  propose. 
To  have  companions  in  their  woes) : 
Grant  this  the  case ;  yet  sure 'tis  hard 
That  virtue,  styPd  ito  own  reward. 
And  by  all  sages  nnderrtood 
To  be  the  chief  of  human  good. 
Should  acting  die ;  nor  leave  behind 
Some  lasting  pleasure  in  the  mind. 
Which  by  remembrance  will  assuay 
Grief,  sickness,  poverty,  and  age,   ^ 
And  sttongly  slioot  a  radiant  dart , 
To  shine  through  life's  declining  part 

Say,  Stella,  feel  you  no  content. 
Reflecting  on  a  life  well  spent ; 
Your  skilful  hand  employ'd  to  save 
Despairing  wret'^hes  ftom  the  grave ; 
And  then  supporting  with  your  store 
Tliose  whom  you  dragg'd  from  death  before 
So  Providence  on  mortals  waits. 
Preserving  what  it  first  creates. 
Your  generous  boldness  to  defend 
An  innocent  and  absent  friend ; 
'lliat  courage  which  can  make  yon  jwl 
To  merit  humbled  in  the  dost  j 
The  detestation  you  express 
For  vice  in  all  its  glittering  dress ; 
That  patience  under  tottering  pain. 
Where  stubborn  stoics  would  complain; 
Must  these  like  empty  shadows  paai. 
Or  forms  reflected  from  a  glass  \ 
Or  mere  chimeras  in  the  mind. 
That  fly,  and  leave  no  mark  behind  } 
Dot«  not  the  body  tlirive  and  grow 
By  food  of  twenty  years  ago  ? 
And,  had  it  not  been  sUll  supply^. 
It  must  a  thousand  times  have  died. 
Then  who  with  reason  can  maintaia 
That  no  eflfects  of  food  remain  ? 
And  is  not  virtue  in  mankind 
The  nutriment  that  feeds  the  mind; . 
Upheld  by  each  good  action  past. 
And  still  contmued  by  the  lart  ? 
Then,  who  with  reason  can  prer 
That  aU  eiSecti  of  tirtne  «nd  ^ 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


ttOlRACE,  toolL  t  Obti  XlV. 


iBdieve  me^  Stella,  when  yoo  show 
That  tni«  oootempt  for  things  below^ 
Nor  prize  yoiir  life  for  other  ends 
than  merely  to  oblige  your  friends ; 
Your  former  actions  claim  their  part. 
And  join  to  fortify  your  heart 
For  virtue,  m  her  daily  race, 
Like  Janus,  bears  a  double  fece ; 
Looks  back  with  joy  where  she  has  gomS, 
Apd  therefore  goes  with  courage  6h : 
She  at  your  sickly  couch  will  wait, 
And  guide  you  to  a  better  state. 

O  then,  whatever  fledven  intends^ 
Take  Dity  on  ytmr  pitying  friends  ! 
Nor  let  your  ills  affect  your  mind. 
To  fency  th^  cai^  be  uukind. 
Me,  surely  me,  you  ought  to  spare, 
Who  gladly  would  your  sutTering  share  ^ 
Or  give  my  scrap  of  life  to  you. 
And  think  it  far  beneath  your  duej 
Vou,  to  whose  care  so  oft  I  owe 
lliat  I  'm  alive  to  tell  you  so. 


HORACE,  BOOK  I.  ODE  XIV. 

^ABAtaRASED,  AND  IN8CRMe6  tO  UBLAND.       17*26. 
IHB    I7«SCB1PTI0N. 

Poor  floatnig  isle,  tost  on  ill-fortune's  waves, 
Ordained  hjfate  to  be  the  land  of  slaves ; 
Shall  nx>vbg  Delos  now  deep -rooted  stand  : 
Thou,  fix>d  of  oW,  be  now  the  moving  land  f 
Although  the  metaphor  be  worn  and  stale, 
Betwixt  a  state,  and  vessel  under  sail  i 
l«t  me  sbpnose  thee  for  a  ship  a-while, 
And  thus  address  thee  in  the  sailor's  style : 

Unhappy  ship,  thoU  art  retum*d  in  vain ; 
New  waves  shall  drive  thee  to  the  deep  agaitL 
lock  to  thyself,  and  be  no  more  the  sport 
Of  giddy  winds,  but  make  some  friendly  port 
lost  are  tlyr  oars,  that  us*d  thy  course  to  guide, 
like  foithful  counsellors,  Mi  either  side. 
Thy  "mast,  which  like  some  aged  patriot  stood 
The  single  pillar  for  his  cuuntry*s  good. 
To  lead  thee,  as  a  staff  directs  the  blind, 
BehoW  it  cracks  by  yon  rough  easiem  wind. 
Your  cable  's  burst,  and  you  must  quickly  feel 
The  waves  impetuous  enter  at  your  keel. 
Thus  commonwealths  receive  a  foreign  yoke, 
When  the  strong  cords  of  union  once  are  broke. , 
Tom  by  a  sudden  tempest  is  thy  sail,    . 
£xpanded  to  invite  a  milder  gale. 

As  when  some  writer  in  the  public  cause 
His  pen^  to  save  a  sinking  nation,  draws, 
While  all  is  calm,  bis  arguments  prevail ; 
TTie  people  s  voice  eiepands  his  paper-sail ; 
Till  power,  discharging  all  her  stormy  bags, 
Flutters  the  feet^e  pamphlet  into  rags. 
The  nation  scar'd,  the  author  doom'd  to  death. 
Who  fondly  put  his  trust  in  popular  breath* 

A  larger  sacrifice  in  vain  you  vow ; 
There  *8  not  a  power  above  will  help  you  now : 
A  nation  thus,  who  oft  Heaven's  call  n^lects. 
In  vain  from  mjnr»d  Heaven  relief  expects. 

OVilinot  avail,  when  thy  strong  sides  are  broke. 
Tluit  thy  defeat  is  ftom  tbo  Britiib  oak  | 


41) 


'  Or,  when  your  name  and  fomily  yon  boast, 
Frwn  fleets  triumphant  o'er  the  Gallic  coast. 
Such  was  leme's  claim,  as  just  as  thine. 
Her  sons  descended  from  the  British  line ; 
Her  matchless  sons,  whose  valour  still  remabt 
On  French  records  fpV  twenty  long  campaigns! 
Yet,  from  an  empress  now  a  captive  grown. 
She  sav^d  BriUnhla's  rights,  atid  lost  her  own. 

In  ships  decay'd  no  mariner  confides, 
Lur'd  by  the  gilded  stefn  and  painted  sides  i 
Yet  at  a  ball  unthitiking  fools  delight 
In  the  gay  trappings  of  a  birth-day  night : 
They  on  the  gold  brocades  and  sattins  rav'd. 
And  quite  forgot  their  country  was  ensIavU 
Dear  vessel,  still  be  to  thy  steerage  just. 
Nor  change  thy  course  wilh  every  sudden  gu^  i 
Take  supple  patriots  of  the  modehi  sort. 
Who  turn  with  every  gale  that  blows  from  court* 

Weary  and  sea-sick  when  in  thee  confined. 
Now  for  thy  safety  cares  distract  my  mind  ; 
As  those  who  long  have  stood  the  storms  of  stat« 
Retire,  ybt  still  bemoan  thekr  country's  fate. 
Beware  j  and  when  you  hear  the  surges  roar. 
Avoid  the  rocks  on  Britain's  angry  shore. 
They  lie,  alas  I  too  easy  to  be  found ; 
For  thee  &10ne  they  lie  the  island  rounds 


VERSES 

OH  THE  8UDD11C  DRTING-UP  ofr  ST.  PATllck's  WBtb, 
KEAR  TRINITT  COLLEGE,  DUBLIN.       lV26. 

By  holy  zeal  mspir'd,  and  led  by  fame. 

To  thee,  onpe  favourite  isle,  with  joy  I  came; 

What  time  the  Goth,  the  Vandal,  and  the  Hon. 

Had  my  own  native  Italy  *«  o*er-run* 

leme,  to  the  world's  remotest  parts, 

Rcitown'd  fbr  talour,  policy,  and  arti* 
Hither  from  Colchos  «,  wilh  the  ^eecy  oife| 

Jason  arriv'd  two  thousand  years  before. 
Thee,  happy  island,  Pallas  call'd  her  own. 
When  haughty  Britain  Uria  a  land  unknown  » i 
Prom  thee,  with  pride,  the  Caledonians  trac^ 
The  glorious  founder  of  their  kingly  race : 
Thy  martial  sons,  whom  now  they  dare  dteiM. 
Did  once  their  land  subdue  and  civilize : 
Tlieir  dress,  their  language,  and  the  Scottish  name. 
OMifess  the  soil  from  whence  the  victors  Came  <« 

*  Italy  was  not  propedy  the  native  place  of  St 
Patrick,  but  the  place  of  bis  education,  and  where 
he  received  his  mission ;  and  because  he  had  hia 
new  birth  there,  henOe,  by  poetical  licence,  and  by 
scripture  figure,  our  author  calls  Uiat  country  hw 
native  Italy.    Irish  En. 

«  Orpheus,  or  the  ancient  author  of  the  Greek 
poem  on  the  Ai^gonautic  expedition,  whoever  he  be 
says,  that  Jason,  who  nuumed  the  shipArgosat 
Theasa)^,  sailed  to  Ireland.     Irish  En. 

»  Tacitus,  in  the  lifo  of  Julius  Agricohi,  says,  that 
the  harbours  of  Ireland,  on  account  of  their 'com- 
merce,  were  better  known  to  the  world  than  those 
of  Britain.     Irish  Ed. 

*  The  argument  here  turns  on,  what  the  author 
of  couffe  took  for  granted,  the  present  Scots  beinff 
t)ie  descendants  of  Irish  emigrants.  This  &cC 
however  truei  wag  Aot  io  S)r,  Swift'i  tune  woer-^ 


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4,52 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Well  may  they  boa&t  that  ancient  Mood  wbkh  runs 
Within  their  veins,  who  are  thy  younger  sons  *, 
A  conquest  and  a  colony  from  thee. 
The  mother-kingdom  IdFt'her  children  free; 
From  thee  no  mark  of  slavery  they  felt : 
Not  so  with  thee  thy  base  mvaders  dealt ; 
Invited  here  to  vengeful  Morrougb^s  aid  <>, 
Those  whom  they  could  not  conquer  they  betrayed. 
Britain,  by  thee  we  fell,  ungrateful  isle ! 
Not  by  thy  valour,  but  superior  guUe : 
Britain,  with  shame,  confess  this  land  of  mine 
First  tanght  thee  human  knowledge  and  divine  '^; 
My  prelates  and  my  students,  sent  from  hence, 
Made  your  sons  converts  both  to  God  and  sense : 
N«t,Uke  the  pastors  of  thy  ravenous  breed. 
Who  come  to  fleece  the  flocks^  and  not  to  feed. 


tained  with  any  degree  of  preciuon.  Irelan4,  even 
to  this  day,  "  remiiins  superstitibusly  devoted  to  her 
ancient  hirtory,"  and  "  wraps  herself  in  the  gloom 
of  her  own  legendary  annals."  Mr.  "Uliitaker  has 
displayed  an  uncommon  fund  of  knowledge  on  this 
very  curious  subject,  both  in  his  History  of  Man- 
chMter,  and  in  The  (ienuine  History  of  the  Britons 
asserted. '  K. 

«  "  The  Scots"  (says  Dr. Robertson)  "carry  their 
pretensions  to  antiquity  as  high  as  any  of  their 
neighbours.  Relying  upim  uncertain  legends,  and 
the  traditions  of  their  bard<t,  still  more  uncertain, 
they  reckon  up  a  series  of  kings  several  ^ges  btfor^ 
the  birth  of  Christ,  and  give  a  particular  detail  of 
occurrences  which  happened  in  their  rei^s.  In 
the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century*  John  Mujor 
and  Hector  Boethius  published  their  histories  of 
Scotland  ;  the  former  a  succinct  and  dry  writer,  the 
latter  a  copious  and  florid  one  ;  and  both  equally 
credulous.  Not  many  years  after,  Buchanan  un- 
dertook the  same  work ;  and  if  his  accuracy  and 
impartiality  had  been  in  any  degree  equal  to  the 
elegance  of  his  taste,  and  to  the  purity  and  vigour 
of  his  style,  his  history  might  be  placed  on  a  level 
with  the  most  admired  compositions  of  thi;  anci&NtiH 
But,  instead  of  rejecting  the  improbable  tides  of 
chronicie-wrlters,  he  was  at  the  utmost  paiut>  to 
adorn  them,  and  hath  clothed  with  all  the  beauijrs 
and  graces  of  tiction  those  legends  which  foj  njerly 
had  only  its  wildnesh  and  extra vagani'e." — On  the 
authority  of  Buchanan  and  his  predecessors  the 
historical  part  of  this  poem  seems  foundeil,  as  well 
as  the  notes  signed  Iriikh  Ed.  some  of  which,  1  be- 
lievcj  were  written  by  the  dean  himself.     iV. 

*  In  the  reign  of  king  Henry  II.  Dcrmot  M'Mor- 
lough,  king  of  I.einster,  being  deprive*!  of  his  king- 
dom by  Roderic  0*Connor,  king  of  Connaught,  he 
hivited  the  English  over  as  auxiliaries,  and  promised 
Richard  Strangbow,  earl  of  Pembroke,  his  daughter 
and  all  his  dominions,  as  a  portion.  By  tliis  assist- 
ance, M*Morrough  recovered  his  crown,  and  Strang- 
boW  became  possessed  of  all  Leinster.     Irish  Eo. 

"J  St.  Patrick  arrived  in  Ireland  in  the  year  431, 
and  completed  the  conversion  of  the  natives,  which 
had  been  bq^un  by  Palladius  and  others.  And,  as 
bishop  Nicholton  observes,  Ireland  sooi^  became  the 
fountain  of  learning,  to  which  all  the  Western  Giris- 
tians,  as  well  as  the  English,  had  recourse,  not  only 
for  instructions  in  the  principles  of  religioii,  but  in 
all  sorts  of  literature,  viz.  Legendi  et  tcholastiae 
<rudUionti  graiiL     Isish  £d. 


Wretched  Icme  I  with  what  grief  I  tefe 
The  fatal  changes  time  hath  made  on  tiwe  t 
The  Christian  rites  I  introduced  in  vain: 
\jo !  infidelity  retum'd  again  ! 
Freedom  and  virtue  in  thy  sons  I  found. 
Who  now  in  vice  and  slavery  are  drown'd. 

By  fiiith  and  prayer,  this  crosier  m  my  t 
I  drove  the  venom'd  serpent  from  thy  land ; 
The  shepherd  in  his  bower  might  sleep  or  s^ 
Nor  dread  the  adder's  tooth,  nor  scorpioo*s  sting  •• 

With  omens  oft  I  strove  to  warn  thy  swains. 
Omens,  the  tjrpes  of  thy  impending  chains. 
I  sent  the  magpie  from  the  British  soil. 
With  restless  beak  thy  blooming  fruit  to  spoQ, 
To  din  thine  ears  with  unharmomoos  dack. 
And  haunt  thy  holy  walls  in  white  and  Mack. 
What  else  are  those  thou  secst  in  bishops'  geer. 
Who  cropi  the  nurseries  of  learning  here  ; 
Aspiring,  greedy,  full  of  senseless  prate. 
Devour  the  church,  and  chatter  to  the  state  ? 

As  you  grew  more  degenerate  and  bate, 
I  sent  you  millions  of  the  croaking  race  ; 
Emblems  of  insects  vile,  who  spread  their  spawn 
Through  all  thy  land,  in  armour,  fur,  and  lawn; 
A  nauseous  brood,  that  fills  your  senate  walls. 
And  in  the  chambers  of  your  viceroy  crawls ! 

See,  where  that;  pew  devouring  vermin  runs. 
Sent  in  my  anger  from  the  Und  of  Huns  ! 
With  harpy  claws  it  undemunes  the  ground. 
And  sudden  spreads  a  numerous  oflspring  round. 
Th'  amphibious  tyrant,  with  his  raveoou»  band. 
Drains  all  thy  lakes  of  fisb,  of  fruits  thy  land. 

Where  is  the  holy  well  that  bore  my  name  ? 
Fled  to  the  fountain  back,  fttwn  whence  it  came  I 
Fair  Freedoms  emblem  once,  which  smoothly  flows. 
And  blessings  equally  on  all  bestows. 
Here,  from  the  neighbouring  nursery  *  of  arts. 
The  students,  drinking,  rais'd  their  wit  and  poirta; 
Fleie,  for  an  age  and  more,  improved  their  vein. 
Their  Phoibus  I,  my  spring  their  Hippocrene. 
Djseourajr'd  youths!  now  all  their  hopes  muflt  filH, 
(.'oiKlemu'd  to  country  cottages  and  ale ; 
lo  foreign  prelates  make  a  slavish  court, 
Aud'bv  their  sweat  procure  a  mean  support; 
Or,  for  the  clas-sics,  read  Th»  Attomey»8  Guide  ; 
Collect  excise,  or  wait  upon  the  tide. 

Oh  !  that  1  had  been  apostle  to  the  Swiss, 
Or  hardy  Sc*>t,  or  any  land  but  this; 
CombinM  in  arms,  tlu*y  had  their  fbes  defied. 
And  kept  their  liberty,  or  bravely  died. 
Thou  still  with  tyrants  in  successioti  cuwt. 
The  last  invaders  trampling  on  the  firrt : 
Now  fondly  hope  for  some  reverse  of  fate. 
Virtue  herself  would  now  return  too  kte. 
Not  half  thy  course  of  misery  is  mn. 
Thy  greatest  evils  yet  are  scarce  begm». 
Soon  shall  thy  sons  (the  time  is  just  at  band) 
Be  alt  made  captives  in  their  native  land; 
When,  for  the  use  of  no  Hibernian  bom. 
Shall  rise  one  blade  of  grass,  one  elur  of  com} 


>  snakes,  vipers,  ortoftdg,  in  IreiiBi  9 
vere  not  known  here  ODti]  «bo«t  the 


8  There  are  nos 
and  even  frogs  were  i  . 

year  1700.  The  magpies  came  a  short  time  hitot| 
and  the  Norway  rats  sittce.    Isisa  Ed. 

»  The  university  of  Dubtin,  called  Trinity  0>*- 
lege,  was  founded  by  q[aeen  EliaMk  i&  l^U 
laisH  £d» 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ON  DR.  YOUNG'S  SATIRES. 


453 


VThttn  thellf  and  leather  thall  for  money  pass^ 
Kor  thy  oppressing  lords  afford  thee  brass  i^. 
Bat  all  torn  leasers  to  that  mongrel  breed  >', 
Who  from  thee  sprung,  yet  on  thy  vitals  feed ; 
Who  to  yon  ravenous  isle  thy  treasures  bear. 
And  waste  in  luxury  thy  harvests  there ; 
For  pride  and  ignorance  a  proverb  grown, 
The  jest  of  wits,  and  to  the  court  unknown. 
I  scorn  thy  spurious  and  degenerate  line. 
And  from  this  hour  my  patronage  resign. 


ON  READING  DR.  YOUNG'S  SATIRES 

CALLED 

THE  UNIVERSAL  PASSION, 

•T    WHICH   BE   MEANS   PEIDB. 
1736. 

If  there  be  truth  in  what  you  smg, 
Soch  |od.like  virtues  in  the  king; 
A  minisCer  ^  soAIPd  with  zeal 
And  wisdom  for  the  common-weal : 
If  he  s  who  in  the  chahr  presides 
So  steadily  the  senate  gukies : 
If  others,  whom  j^ou  make  your  theme. 
Are  seconds  m  the  glorious  scheme  : 
If  every  peer  whom  you  commend. 
To  worth  and  learning  be  a  friend : 
If  this  be  truth,  as  you  attest. 
What  land  was  ever  half  so  Uest  ? 
No  fidsehood  now  among  the  great. 
And  tradesmen  now  no  lot^  cheat ; 
Now  on  the  bench  feir  justice  shines, 
Her  scale  to  neither  side  inclires ; 
Now  pride  and  cruelty  are  flown. 
And  mercy  here  exalte  her  throne : 
For  such  is  good  example*s  power, 
It  does  ite  office  every  hour, 
Where  governors  a^  good  and  wise ; 
Or  else  the  truest  nuucim  lies  : 
For  so  we  find  all  ancieut  tages 
Decree,  that,  ad  exemplum  ref^i*, 
Throujgh  all  the  realm  his  virtues  run, 
Ripening  and  kindlm^  like  t]ip  Sun. 
If  this  be  true,  then  bow  much  more 
When  you  have  nam'd'at  least  a  score 
Of  courtiers,  each  in  their  dt^ree, 
K  possible,  as  good  as  be  ? 

Or  take  it  in  a  difiinrent  view. 
I  ask  (if  what  you  say  be  true) 
If  3rou  affirm  the  pnisent  age 
Deserves  yoar  aaltn's  keenest  rage : 
If  that  same  unhenal  pouion 
With  every  vice  hath  fiUM  tlie  natkm  i 
If  virtue  dares  not  ventnic  duwn 
A  single  step  benea^  the  erown  : 
If  clergjrmen,  to  show  their  wit. 
Praise  datskt  more  than  holy  writ: 

10  Wood's  runxms  prqjefl  in  17tt4.    laisM  Hv^ 

^>  The  absentfifs,  who  apadt  the  income  of  their 
Irish  estates,  places,  aad  pcnsioaf,  in  England* 
laisH  Ed. 

^  Sir  Robert  Wali|ila,aftefvafdi  wi  of  Oribixl. 

s  Sir  Spencer  Compton,  tlMiupeiker».«l^9nr«n}i 
tri  of  Wilmmgton. 


If  bankrupts,  when  they  are  undone. 
Into  the  senate-house  can  run, 
And  sell  their  votes  at  such  a  rate 
As  will  retrieve  a  lost  estete  : 
If  law  be  such  a  partial  whore, 
To  spare  the  ricb,  and  plague  the  poor: 
If  these  be  of  all  crimes  the  worst. 
What  land  was  ever  half  so  curst  ? 


THE  DOG  AND  THIEF.    1726. 

QuoTR  the  thief  to  the  dog, "  let  me  hito  yonr  door. 

And  I  'II  give  you  ^ese  delicate  bits."    [you  're. 
Quoth  the  ck>g,  **  I  shall  then  be  more  villain  than 

And  besides  must  be  out  df  my  wits. 
**  Your  delicate  bite  will  not  serve  me  a  meal. 

But  my  master  each  day  gives  me  bread ; 
You  'II  fly,  when  you  get  what  you  came  here  to 

And  I  must'  be  hang'd  in  your  stead."       [steal. 
The  stock-jobber  thus  firoiti  'Change-alley  goes  down. 

And  tips  you  the  freeman  a  wink ; 
"  Let  me  have  but  your  vote  to  serve  for  the  town. 

And  here  b  a  guinea  to  drink."  . 
Says  the  freeman,  "  your  gamea  to  night  would  bt 

Your  offers  of  bribery  cease :  C^Mot ! 

I  'II  vote  for  my  laqdlord,  to  whom  I  pay  rent. 

Or  elae  I  may  forfeit  my  leaa^" 
From  London  they  ^ome,  silly  people  to  choose, 

Tbeir  lands  and  their  hcea  unknown : 
Who  *d  vote  a  rogue  into  the  parlianSent-hoose, 

That  would  turn  a  man  out  of  his  own  ? 


ADVICE 


TO  THE  GRU3-STREET  VERSE-WRITBRS. 

1726. 

Ye  poets  ragged  and  forlorn, 

Down  from  your  garrets  haste; 
Ye  rhymers  dcid  as  soon  as  bom. 

Not  yet  consigned  to  paste; 
1  know  a  trick  to  make  you  thrive ; 

O,  'tis  a  quaint  device : 
Your  still-born  poems  shall  revive. 

And  »com  to  wrap  up  spice. 
Get  all  your  verses  printed  fair. 

Then  let  them  well  be  dried  ; 
And  Curll  must  have  a  special  care 

To  leave  the  margin  wide. 
Lend  the9e  to  paper-sparing  «  Pope; 

And  when  he  sits  to  write. 
No  letter  with  an  envelope 

Could  give  him  more  delight 
When  Pope  has  6ird  the  margins  round. 

Why  then  fecall  your  loan  ; 
Sell  them  to  Curll  for  fifty  pound. 

And  swear  they  are  your  own. 

J  The  original  copy  of  lA'r.  Pope's  celebrated 
translation  of  Homer  (preserved  in  the  British  Mu- 
seum) is  aimtot  entirely  written  on  the  covers  of 
letters,  and  sometimes  betwe^in  the  lines  vf  the  lei* 
ters  themselves.    N.  * 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


454 


To  A  LADY, 


SWIFTS  POExMS, 


WHO  SBSMED  THB  AUTHOB  TO  WIITB  80MB  TBBSBt 
OPON  BBR  IJJ  THB  HBROIC  STYLB. 

WBITTBN  AT  LONDON  IN  1726, 

^PTBB  venting  all  ray  spite, 
Tell  me,  what  have  I  to  write  ?  . 
Every  errour  I  could  find 
Through  the  mazes  of  your  mind. 
Have  my  busy  Muse  employed 
Till  the  company  was  cloy*d. 
Are  you  positive  ^od  fretfnl. 
Heedless,  ignorant,  forgetful  ? 
Those,  and  twenty  follies  more, 
I  have  often  told  before. 

Hearken  what  my  lady  says  : 
Have  1  nothing  then  to  piaise  ? 
IJl  it  fit?  you  to  be  witty, 
Where  a  fault  should  move  your  pity. 
If  you  think  me  too  conceited^ 
Or  to  passion  quickly  heated  ; 
If  my  wandering  head  be  less 
Set  on  reading  than  on  dress ; 
If  1  always  seem  too  dull  t*  yc  ; 
I  can  solve  the  diffi-rculty. 

You  Would  teach  me  to  be  wise  | 
Truth  and  honour  how  to  prize; 
How  to  shine  in  conversation. 
And  with  credit  fill  my  station  i 
How  to  relish  notions  high  ; 
Hour  to  live,  and  how  to  die. 

But  it  m^  decreed  by  fate-^ 
Mr.  Dean,  you  come  too  late. 
Well  I  know,  you  can  discern. 
1  am  now  too  old  to  learn  : 
Follies,  from  my  youth  instill'd. 
Have  my  soul  entirely  fillM  ; 
In  my  head  and  heart  they  centre, 
Kor  will  let  your  lessons  eqter. 

Bred  a  fondling  and  ftn  heiress, 
Brest  like  any  lady  mayoress, 
Cocker'd  by  the  servants  round, 
Was  too  good  to  touch  the  ground  : 
Thought  the  life  of  every  lady 

Should  be  one' continual  play-day 

Balls,  and  masquerades,  and  shows. 
Visits,  plays,  and  powder'd  beaux. 

Thus  you  have  my  case  at  large, 
^A  may  now  perform  your  charge. 
Those  materials  I  have  fumish'd 
When  by  you  refin'd  and  bumishd, 
^lust,  that  all  the  workL  may  know-'em. 
Be  reduced  mto  a  poenu 

But,  I  beg,  sus^sid  a  while 
That  same  paltry,  buriesque  style  | 
Drop  for  once  your  constant  rule. 
Turning  all  to  ridicule  j 
Teaching  others  how  to  ape  yon  ; 
Court  nor  parliament  can  *scape  you  2 
Treat  the  public  and  yonr  friend;s 
Both  alike,  while  neither  mends. 

Sing  my  praise  m  strain  sublime  j 
Trpat  me  not  with  doggrel  rhyme. 
*Tis  but  just  you  should  produce. 
With  eacl^  feult,  eacl^fault»s  excuse  1 
Kpt  to  publish  every  trifle, 

Aod  n)r  few  perfecOons  itiflm 


With  some  gifis  at  lettit  endow  me^ 

Which  my  very  foes  allow  roe. 

Am  I  spiteful,  proud,  unjust  ? 

Did  I  ever  break  my  trust  ? 

Which  of  all  our  modem  dames 

Censures  les^  or  less  defames } 

In  good  manners  am  I  faulty  ? 

Can  you  call  n>e  rude  or  haughty  > 

Did  1  e^e^  my  mite  withhold 

From  the  impotent  and  old  ? 

^Hien  did  ever  I  omit 

Due  regaid  fbr  men  of  wit  ? 

When  have  I  esteem  express*<} 

Fbr  a  coxcomb  gaily  dress'd  ? 

Do  I,  like  the  female  tribe,    ' 

Think  it  wit  tu  fleer  and  gibe  > 

Who  with  less  designing  ends 

Kindlier  entertahis  their  friends ; 

With  good  words,  and  countenance  sprightly. 

Strivt^  to  treat  them  n»ore  politely  ? 

Think  not  cards  my  chief  diversion : 
Tb  a  wrong,  ui^ust  aspersion : 
Never  knew  I  any  good  in  'em. 
But  to  dose  my  head  like  lawiUmMm, 
We  by  play,  as  men  by  drinking. 
Pass  onr  nights,  to  drive  out  thinkmg. 
From  my  ailments  give  me  leisure, 
I  shall  read  and  thbk  with  pleasure; 
Conversation  learn  to  relish. 
And  with  books  my  mind  embellish. 
Now,  methinks,  I  hear  yoq  cry, 
Mr.  D€»n,  you  must  reply. 
Madam,  1  allow  'tis  true  s 
All  these  praises  are  your  due. 
You,  like  some  acute  philosophei% 
Every  fnult  have  drawn  a  gloss  ove 
Placing  in  the  strongest  light     * 
All  3rour  virtues  to  my  sight. 

Though  you  lead  a  blamdess  Uip, 
Are  an  humble  prudent  wife. 
Answer  all  domestic  ends  ; 
What  IS  this  to  OS  your  friends  ? 
Though  your  children  by  a  nod 
SUnd  in  awe  without  a  rod ; 
Though,  by  your  obliging  kway, 
.  Servants  love  you,  and  obey ; 
TlKMigh  you  treat  us  with  a  smile; 
Clear  your  looks,  and  snnooth  your  8tylc| 
Load  our  plates  from  every  di^ ; 
This  is  not  the  thing  we  wish. 

Colonel may  be  your  debtor; 

We  expect  employment  better. 

You  must  learn,  if  you  would  gain  ns. 

With  good  sense  to  entertain  us. 

Scholars,  when  good  sense  detcrifaii^ 
Call  it  ttuiing  and  imbibing: 
Metaphoric  meat  and  drink 
Is  to  understand  aad  think : 
We  may  carve  for  others  thoB^I 
And  let  others  carve  for  us : 
To  discourse  and  to  attend. 
It  to  ^^  yourself  and  friend*, 
Conversation  is  but  carving; 
Curve  for  all,  yourselfb  starvii^| 
Oive  no  oMMre  to  every  guest. 
Than  he  *»  able  to  digest; 
Give  him  always  of  the  primes 
Andbutlitacat^tim^.    ^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


TO  A  LADY- 


4^5 


Cmrve  to  all  boft  just  enough  ; 

Let  them  neither  starve  Dor  utuflT: 

And,  that  you  may  have  your  due. 

Let  jroar  neighbours  carve  for  you. 

This  comparison  will  hold. 

Could  it  well  in  rhyme  be  told 

How  conversing,  listening,  thinking. 

Justly  may  resemble  drinking ; 

For  a  friend  a  glass  you  iill,  , 

What  is  this  but  to  instill  ? 

To  conclude  this  long  essay  j 
Pardon,  if  I  disobey ;       .    • 
Nor,  against  my  natural  vein^ 
Treat  you  in  heroic  strain. 
I,  as  all  the  parish  knows. 
Hardly  can  be  grave  in  prose  y  , 

Still  to  lash,  and  lashing  smile, 
111  befits  a  lofty  Ktyle. 
From  the  planet  of  my  birth 
I  encounter  vice  with  mirth. 
Wicked  ministers  of  state 
I  can  easier  scorn  than  hate : 
And  Tfiod  it  answers  right : 
Scorn  torments  them  more  than  spite. 
All  the  vices  of  a  court 
Do  but  serve  to  make  me  sport 
Were  I  in  some  foreign  realm, 
Which  all  vices  overwhelm ; 
Should  a  monkey  wear  a  crown. 
Must  I  tremble  at  his  frown  ? 
Coukl  I  not,  through  all  his  ermine. 
Spy  the  strutting,  chattering  vermin  ? 
Safely  write  a  smart  lampoon. 
To  expose  the  brisk  baboon  ^? 

When  my  Muse  officious  venture! 
On  the  nation's  representers  : 
Teaching  by  what  golden  rules 
Into  knaves  they  turn  their  fools : 
How  the  helm  is  ruPd  by  Walpole, 
At  whose  oars,  like  slaves,  they  all  pu]l| 
Let  the  vessel  split  on  shelves ;  $ 

With  the  freight  enrich  themselves : 
Safe  within  my  little  wherry, ' 
All  their  madness  makes  me  meny : 
Like  the  watermen  of  Thames, 
I  TOW  by,  and  call  them  names  ; 
Like  the  ever-laughing  sage. 
In  a  jest  I  spend  my  rage 
(Though  it  must  be  understood, 
I  would  bang  them,  if  I  could) : 
If  I  can  but  fill  my  nitch, 
I  attempt  no  higt^er  pitch ; 
Leave  to  D^Anvers  and  his  mate 
Maxims  wise  to  rule  the  state. 
Pulteney  deep,  accomplished  St  Johns, . 
Scourge  the  villains  with  a  vengeance  : 
Let  me,  though  the  smell  be  noisome, 
8trq>  their  bums;  let  Cal^s  hoise  'emi 
Th^  apply  Alecto*8  whip. 
Till  they  wriggle,  howl,  and  skip. 

Deuce  is  in  you,  Mr.  Dean  : 
What  cui  all  this  passion  mean  ? 

'  This  poem,  for  an  obvious  reason,  has  been 
nntilated  m  many  editions.  N,^ 

s  Caleb  iVAnvers  was  the  name  assumed  by 
Affihurst,  the  ostensible  writer  of  the  Craftsman. 
This  anfortunate  man  was  neglected  by  his  soble 
pttfon^anAdiediiiirwiiaadobfettnty.   if* 


Mention  courts  !  you  'II  ne'er  be  qtdet 
On  corruptions  running  riot 
And  as  it  befits  your  statfon ; 
Come  to  use  and  application: 
Nor  with  senates  keep  a  fuss. 
I  submit ,  and  answer  thus : 

If  the  machinations  brewing. 
To  complete  the  public  ruin. 
Never  once  could  have  the  power 
To  affect  me  half  an  hour ; 
Sooner  would  I  write  in  buskins. 
Mournful  elegies  on  Blueskins  \ 
If  I  laugh  at  Whig  and  Tory, ' 
I  conclude,  a  fortiori, 
All  your  eloquence  will  scarce 
Drive  me  from  my  fiivourite  farcew 
This  I  must  insist  on :  for,  as 
It  is  well  observed  by  Horace  *, 
Ridicule  hath  greater  power 
To  reform  the  world,  than  sour. 
Horses  thus,  let  jockies  judge  else, 
Switehes  better  guide  than  cudgelSj^ 
Bastings  heavy,  dry,  obtuse. 
Only  dulness  can  produce; 
While  a  little  gentle  jerking 
Sets  the  spirits  all  a-workhig^ 

llius,  I  find  it  by  experiment. 
Scolding  moves  you  less  than  merrimenti 
I  may  storm  and  rage  in  vain ; 
It  but  stupifies  your  brain. 
But  with  raillery  to  nettle. 
Sets  your  thoughts  upon  their  mettle  ; 
Gives  imagination  scc^ ; 
Never  lets  the  mind  elope; 
Drives  out  brangling  and  contention^ 
Beings  in  reason  and  invention. 
For  your  sake,  as  well  as  mine, 
I  the  lofty  style  decline. 
I  should  make  a  figure  scurvy. 
And  your  head  turn  topsy-turvy^ 

I,  who  love  to  have  a^fl|S 
Both  at  senate-house  and  khig  ; 
That  they  might  some  better  way  tread. 
To  avoid  the  publip  hatred  ; 
Thought  no  method  more  commodkNU, 
Than  to  show  their  vices  odious; 
Which  1  chose  to  make  appear. 
Not  by  anger,  but  a  sneer. 
As  my  method  of  reformrag 
Is  by  laughing,  not  by  storming 
(For  my  friends  have  always  thought 
Tenderness  my  greatest  foult)  ; 
Would  you  have  me  change  my  style  1 
Qn  your  faults  no  longer  smile; 
But,  to  pateh  up  all  our  quarrels. 
Quote  you  texts  from  Plutarch's  Morals  i 
Or  firom  Solomon  produce 
Maxims  teaching  wisdom's  use  ? 

If  I  treat  you  like  a  crown'd-faead. 
You  have  cheap  enough  compounded  |  ' 
Can  you  put-in  higher  claims, 
Than  the  owners  of  St  James  ? 
You  are  not  so  great  a  grievance. 
As  the  hirelings  of  St  ^ephen's. 


3  The  {jBunous  thief,  who,  whilst  on  hb  trial  afc 
the  Old  Bailey,  stabbed  JomttianWja    N.      ' 

4  Ridicatam  wsdfkio. 


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4S6 


SWHTS  POEMS. 


Y<m  are  of  a  lower  cUm0 
Than  my  friend  sir  Robert  BraM, 
Kone  of  these  have  mercy  found ; 
I  have  laughed,  and  lash'd  them  lyund, 
^      Have  3roo  seen  a  rocket  fly  ? 
You  would  swear  it  pierc'd  the  iky : 
It  but  reach'd  the  middle  air. 
Bursting  into  pieces  there  y 
Thousand  sparklet  £»Uing  down 
Ugfat  on  many  a  coxcomb's  crown ; 
$ee  what  mirth  the  sport  creates  ; 
Singes  hair,  but  breaks  no  pates. 
Thus,  should  I  attempt  to  cUmby 
Treat  you  in  a  style  sublime  '   . 

Such  a  rocket  is  my  Muse : 
3hould  I  lofty  numbeis  choose, 
Bre  I  reached  Parnassus'  top, 
I  should  burst,  and  bursting  drop  ) 
All  my  fire  would  fall  in  scraps ; 
Give  your  head  some  gentle  raps| 
Only  make  it  smart  awhile  : 
Then  could  1  foi;bear  to  smilit. 
When  I  found  the  tiagUng  pain 
Snteriog  warm  your  ft'igid  brain  i 
Make  you  able  upon'sigfat 
To  decide  of  wrong  and  right ; 
Talk  with  sense  whatever  you  please  on; 
Leam  to  reiu^h  truth  and  reason  ? 

Thus  we  both  shall  gain  our  prize : 
I  to  laugh,  and  you  grow  wise. 


*     A  YOUNG  LADTS  COMPLAINT 

FOR 
THC   STAT  OP  THE   DEAN   IN   BlfOLAND.       1726. 

Blow,  ye  Zephyra,  gentle  gales ; 
Gently  fill  the  swelling  sails, 
l^eptune.  with  thy  indent  long, 
Trident  three-fork'd,  trident  strong  ; 
And  ye  Nereids  fair  and  gay, 
Pairer  than  the  rose  in  May, 
Nereids  living  in  deep  caves, 
Gently  wash'd  with  gentle  waves : 
Nereids,  Neptune,  lull  asleep 
Ruffling  storms,  and  ruffled  deep ! 
All  around  in  pompous  state. 
On  this  richer  Argo  wait : 
Atgo,  bring  my  Golden  Fleece ; 
Argo,  bring  him  to  his  Greece. 
Will  Cadenus  longer  stay  ? 
Come,  Cadenus,  come  away ; 
Come  with  all  the  haste  of  love, 
Come  unto  thy  turtle-dove. 
The  ripen'd  cherry  on  the  tree 
Hangs,  and  only  bangs  for  thee ; 
lAiscious  peaphes,  mellow  pears, 
Ceres  with  her  yellow  ears. 
And  the  grape,  both  red  and  white. 
Grape  inspiring  juiit  delight ; 
All  are  ripe,  and  courting  sue 
To  be  pluck'd  and  press'd  by  you. 
Pinks  have  lost  their  blooming  red, 
Mourning  hang  tbeir  drooplnig  head; 
Every  flower  langoid  seems; 
Wants  the  ookmr  of  thy  beaow. 


Beams  of  wondrous  fbroe  and  power. 
Beams  revivmg  every  flower. 
Come,  Cadenus,  bless  once  more, 
Bksss  again  thy  native  shore; 
Bless  again  this  drooping  isle. 
Make  its  weeping  beauties  smilet 
Beauties  that  thme  absence  moon. 
Beauties  wishing  thy  return. 
Come,  Cadenus,  come  with  haste. 
Come  before  the  winter*s  blast; 
Swifter  than  the  lightning  fly  ; 
Or  I,  like  Vanessa,  die. 


A  LETTER  TO  THE  DEAN, 

WHEN   IN  SNGLAND.      17S6. 

You  will  excuse  me,  I  suppose, 
For  sending  rh^e  instead  of  proae. 
Because  hot  weather  makes  me  lazy  ; 
To  write  in  metre  is  more  easy. 

While  you  are  trudging  London  town, 
I  'm  strolling  Dublin  up  and  down ; 
While  you  converse  with  lords  and  dukes, 
I  have  their  betters  here,  my  books : 
Fix*d  in  an  elbow-chair  at  ease, 
1  choose  companions  as  I  please. 
I  'd  rather  have  one  single  shelf 
Than  all  my  friends,  except  yourself; 
For  after  all  that  can  be  said. 
Our  best  acquaintance  are  the  dead. 
While  you  're  in  raptures  with  Faustina  *  i 
I  'm  charm'd  at  home  with  our  Sheelina. 
While  you  are  starving  there  in  state, 
I  'm  cramming  here  with  butchers  meat. 
You  say,  when  with  those  lofds  you  dine,       ^ 
They  treat  you  with  the  bet>t  of  wine. 
Burgundy,  Cyprus,  and  Tokay  ; 
Why  so  can  we,  aH  well  as  they  . 
No  reason  then,  my  dear  good  dean. 
But  you  should  travel  home  again. 
What  though  you  may  n't  in  Ireland  hope 
To  lind  such  folk  as  Gay  and  Pope; 
If  you  with  rhymers  here  would  share 
But  half  the  wit  that  you  can  spare, 
I  *d  lay  twelve  egj^,  tlmt  in  twelve  days. 
You  M  make  a  dozen  of  Popes  and  Gays. 

Our  weather  *8  good,  our  kky  is  clear; 
We  've  ewry  joy,  if  you  were  here; 
So  lofty  and  so  bright  a  sky 
Was  never  seen  by  Ireland's  eye  ! 
1  think  it  fit  to  let  you  know. 
This  week  1  shall  to  Quilca  go ; 
To  see  NTFayden's  homy  brothers 
First  suck,  and  alter  bull  their  mothers; 
To  see,  alas  !  my  withered  trees  ! 
To  see  whal  all  the  country  sees ! 
My  stunted  quicks^  my  famished  beeves, 
My  servants  such  a  pack  of  thieves  ; 
My  shattered  firs,  my  blasted  oaks. 
My  house  in  common  to  all  folks  ; 
No  cabbage  for  a  single  snail, 
My  turnips,  carrots,  parsnips,  ^11 ; 
My  DO  green  peas,  my  few  green  sprouti  i 
My  mother  always  in  the  pouts  ^ 

'  Signpra  VrnvtioB,  %  fiuvom  Mittu  liqgec^ 


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PAUNODIA.  .  .  .  BECS  MRTH-DAY. 


4flr 


My  hones  nd»  or  gone  astray ; 
My  fish  all  stolen,  or  ran  away  ; 
My  mutton  lean,  my  pullets  old, 
My  poultry  stair'd,  the  corn  all  sold. 

A  man,  come  now  from  Quilca,  aasrs, 
**Tkey  We  «  stolen  the  lock*  from  aR  your  keys  :*• 
But,  what  must  firet  and  Tex  me  more. 
He  says,  **  They  stole  the  keys  before. 
Tkeif  've  std'n  the  knifes  from  all  the  forks; 
And  half  tl)e  cows  firom  half  the  stnrks." 
Kay  more,  the  fellow  swears  and  tows, 
'<  They  We  stol'n  the  sturks  from  half  the  cows:  ** 
Whh'many  more  accounts  of  woe. 
Yet,  though  the  devil  be  there,  I'll  go: 
Twixt  you  and  me  the  reason  's  cU»ury 
Because  I 've  more  yezation  bere» 


PALTSODIA. 

HOaACB,   BOOK  I.  ODB  XTT. 

GaxAT  sir,  than  Pbosbus  more  divine. 
Whose  verses  far  his  rays  out-shine. 

Look  down  upon  3ronr  quondam  foe  ; 
Oh!  let  me  never  write  agam. 
If  I  e'er  disoblige  you^  dean, 
,    Shoukl  you  compassion  show. 

Take  those  Iambics  which  I  wrote. 
When  anger  made  me  piping  hot. 

And  give  them  to  your  cook. 
To  singe  your  fowl,  or  save  your  paste. 
The  next  time  when  you  have  a  feast ; 

They  '11  save  you  many  a  book. 
To  burn  them,  you  are  not  content ; 
I  give  you  then  my  free  consent. 

To  sink  them  in  the  harbour ; 
If  not  they  '11  serve  to  set  off  blocks. 
To  roll  on  pipes,  and  twist  in  locks; 

So  give  tiiem  to  your  barber. 
Or,  when  you  next  your  physic  take, 
I  must  entreat  you  then  to  make 

A  proper  application ; 
TIs  what  I  've  done  mjrself  before. 
With  Dan's  fine  thoughts,  and  many  more, 

Who  gave  me  provocation. 
What  cannot  mighty  anfcer  do  > 
It  makes  the  weak  the  strong  pursue, 

A  goose  attack  a  swan ; 
It  makes  a  woman,  tooth  and  nait, 
Her  husband's  hands  and  face  assail. 

While  he  's  no  longer  man. 

Though  some,  we  find,  are  more  discreet. 
Before  the  world  are  wondrous  sweet. 

And  let  their  husbands  hector : 
But,  when  the  world  's  asleep  they  wake. 
That  is  the  time  they  choose  to  speak; 

Witness  the  curtain-lecture. 

Such  was  the  case  with  you,  I  find : 
All  day  you  could  oonoeal  your  mind  ; 

But  when  St.  Patrick's  chimes 
AwakM  your  Muse  (my  midnight  earse. 
When  I  engag'd  for  betteribr  worw). 

You  scolded  with  your  rhymes. 

s  They  is  the  grand  tluef  of  the  county  of  Cavan; 
for  whatever  is  stolen,  if  you  inquire  ot  a  servant 
•bos*  il;  the  «aB«6r«y  «« 3%  hsv^  Mfikn  )t» 

FAULKKSIU  ^ 


Have  done!  have  done!  lonittheArid^ 
To  you,  as  to  my  wife,  I  yidd : 

As  she  must  wear  the  brecohas  ; 
So  shall  you  wear  the  lanrel-crawB, 
Win  it,  uid  wear  it,  tis  your  owu^ 

The  poet's  only  ]'  * 


BEOS  BIRTH-DAT. 

MOVSICBBR  8,  1726. 

Tais  day,  dear  Bee,  is  thy  nativity  ; 
Had  Fate  a  luckier  one,  she  'd  give  it  ya  : 
She  chose  a  thread  of  greatest  length. 
And  doubly  twisted  it  for  strength  ; 
Nor  will  be  able  with  her  shears 
To  cut  it  off  these  fbrty  years. 
Then  who  says  oare  will  kill  a  eat  ? 
Rebecca  shows  they  're  out  in  that. 
For  she,  though  over-run  with  care. 
Continues  healthy,  fiit,  and  feiiv 

As,  if  the  gout  should  seize  Uie  hea^ 
Doctors  pronounce  the  patient  dead^ 
But,  if  they  can,  by  all  their  arts, 
Eject  it  to  th'  extremest  parts. 
They  give  the  sick  ipan  joy,  uid  pcaiir 
The  guut,  that  will  prolong  his  days;   . 
Rebecca  thus  I  gladly  greet. 
Who  drives  her  cares  to  hands  and  feet  I 
For,  though  philosophers  mainhiin 
The  limbs  are  guided  by  the  brain. 
Quite  contrary  Rebecca  's  led. 
Her  hands  and  feet  conduct  her  head. 
By  arbitrary  power  convey  her  ; 
She  ne'er  considers  why,  or  where : 
Her  hands  may  meddle,  feet  may  wander. 
Her  head  is  but  a  mere  by-stander  ; 
And  all  her  bustling  but  supplies 
The  part  of  wholsome  exercise. 
Thus  nature  hath  resolv'd  to  pay  her 
The  cat's  nine  lives,  and  eke  the  care. 

I/mg  may  she  live,  and  help  her  friends 
Whene'er  it  suits  her  private  ends ; 
Domestic  business  never  mind 
Till  cofiee  bes  her  stomach  lin'd ; 
But,  when  her  breakfast  gives  her  courage. 
Then  think  on  Stella's  chicken-porridge  ; 
I  mean  when  Tiger  ^  has  been  serv'd. 
Or  else  poor  Stella  may  be  starv'd. 

May  Bee  have  many  an  eveniqg  pap. 
With  Tiger  slabbering  in  her  lap  ; 
But  always  take  a  special  care 
She  does  not  ovtrset  the  chair  I 
"Still  be  she  curious,  never  hearken 
To  any  speech  but  Tiger^s  bacjiing  I 

And  when  she 's  in  snother  ncnns^ 
Stella  long  dead,  but  first  the  dean. 
May  fortune  and  her  cofi^  get  Jier 
Companions  that  may  please  her  better ! 
Whole  afternoons  will  sit  beside  her. 
Nor  for  neglects  or  blunden  qfaide  her, 
A  goodly  set  as  can  be  found 
Of  hearty  gossips  prating  round ; 
Fresh  feom  a  wedding  or  a  christening. 
To  teach  her  ears  the  ait  of  listening. 
And  pleasaher  man  to  hear  tham  tattle^ 
Than  the  dean  storm,  or  Stella  rattle. 

^  3frs.  Dingley's  fevourite  lap-'dof • 


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45S 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Late  be  bev  deith,  one  gentle  nod, 
When  Hermes,  waituig  with  hb  rod, 
Shall  to  Elysian  fields  invite  her ! 
'  Where  there  shall  be  no  cares  to  frij^t  hcs  I 


;       OH  THU 

COLLAR  OF  TIQEU, 

MRS.   DI}(C;.ET'8   LAF-DOG. 

pRAT  steal  me  not ;  1  'm  Mrs.  Dingley^s, 
Whose  h^rt  in  this  four-footed  thing  lies. 


EPIGRAMS  ON  WINDOWS, 

MOST  OP  THBM   VRITTEIC    IN   1726. 
L  ON   ▲   WINDOW   AT  AN   INN. 

Wb  fly  lirom  hixury  and  wealth. 
To  hardships,  in  pursuit  of  healUi ; 
From  generous  wines  and  costly  £ftre. 
And  dosing  in  an  easy  chair : 
pursue  the  goddess  Health  in  vain. 
To  find  her  in  a  country  scene. 
And  every  where  her  footsteps  traoe^ 
And  see  her  marks  in  every  &ce  j| 
And  still  her  favourites  we  meet, 
Crowding  the  roads  with  naked  leet. 
But,  oh  !  so  fiiintly  we  pursue, 
We  ne'er  can  have  her  in  full  view. 


U,    AT  AN  INN  IN  ENGLAND. 

Thb  glass,  by  lovers  nonsense  blurrM. 

Dims  and  obscures  our  sight : 
80  when  our  pasvons  loye  hath  stinr^d^ 

It  darlKiis  reason's  light. 


in.    ANOTHER. 

Tbb  church  and  clergy  here,  no  doubt. 

Are  very  near  a-kin  j 
Both  weatKer-beaten  are  without. 

And  empty  both  within. 


IV,    ATCH^STER. 


Mt  landlord  is  civil. 
But  dear  as  the  d-*l : 
Your  pockets  grow  emptyi 
.  With  nothmgto  tempt  ye< 
The  wine  is  so  sonr, 
^wiH  give  you  a  scour; 
The  b^  and  the  ale. 
Are  mingled  with  stale  | 
The  veal  is  such  carnoo, 
A  dog  would  be  weary  oik 
All  this  1  have  folt, 
Vbr  1  Ihre  on  a  smelt. 


Y.  ANOTHER,  mCHSSTBR, 


T»  ^<^>Ut  of  this  town 
Aiefidlofrewm^ 


And  strangers  delight  to  walk  round  *em  : 

But  as  for  the  dwellers, 

Botli  buyers  and  sellers. 
For  me  you  may  hang  'em,  or  drown  'em. 


VL    ANOTHER,  AT  HOLYHEAD  «. 

O  Neptoke  '  Neptune!  most  I  still 
Be  here  detainM  against  my  will  ? 
Is  this  yotir  justice*  when  I  *m  come 
Above  two  hundred  miles  from  home  ? 
O'er  mountains  steep,  o'er  dusty  plaine. 
Half  cbok'd  with  dust,  half  drown*d  with 
Only  your  godship  to  implore. 
To 'let  me  kiss  your  other  shore  } 
A  boon  so  smnll !  but  I  may  weep. 
While  you  're,  like  Bkai,  fast  asleep. 


VIL      ANOTUBS  WRITrSN  OFOM  A  WIWKIW  WBBa« 
THERE  WAS  MO  WBrriNG  BBFOaE, 

Thanks  to  my  stars,  I  onoe  can  see 
A  window  here  from  scribbling  fi«e : 
Here  no  conceited  coxcombs  pass. 
To  scratch  their  paltry  drabs  on  glaM; 
Nor  party-fool  is  calling  names. 
Or  dealing  crowns  to  George  and  James. 


VIII.      ON  SBBING  VERSES  WSriTEN  OPOM  WmSOWt 

at  inns. 

Thb  sage  who  said  he  should  be  proud 

Of  windows  in  his  breast. 
Because  he  ne'er  a  thought  allowed 

That  might  not  be  confost ; 

His  window  scrawl'd  by  Avery  rake^ 

Hb  breast  again  would  cover; 
And  fairly  bid  the  devil  take 

The  diamond  and  the  lover. 


IX.    ANOTHER. 

By  Satan  taught,  all  conjurers  knoir 
Your  mistress  in  a  glass  to  shoWi^ 

And  you  can  do  as  much  : 
In  this  the  devil  and  you  agree: 
None  e'er  made  verses  worse  than  ha^ 

And  thine  1  sftear  are  such. 


X.    ANOTHER, 

That  lovei  is  the  devil,  I  HI  prove  when  reqnir'd^ 
Those  rhymers  abundantly  show  it : 

They  swear  that  they  all  by  love  are  hupir'd. 
And  the  devil 's  a  damnable  poet. 


TO  J4SUS,  ON  NEW-YEARS^DAK 

Two-fac*d  Janus,  god  of  tmie  1 
Be  my  Pheebus  whUe  I  rhyme  ; 
To  oblige  your  crony  Swift, 
Bring  our  dame  a  new-year's-gift : 

1  These  verni  aie  signed  J-rK-v,  b«t  wnttei^  l| 
it  if  presumed,  inDr«  gwift'i  band* 


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PASTORAL  DIALOGUE. 


AS9 


fhe  lias  got  but  half  a  face : 
Jaous,  since  thou  hast  a  brace» 
To  my  lady  once  be  kind ; 
Give  her  half  thy  fiice  behjnd. 

Qod  of  time,  if  yoo  be  wise, 
IxK>k  not  with  your  fdiure  eyes  | 
What  imports  thy  forward  sight } 
Well,  if  you  codd  lose  it  quite. 
Can  you  take  delight  hi  Tiding 
7*bt8  poor  isle's  >  approaching  nun. 
When  thy  retrospection  vast 
Sees  the  glorious  ages  past  ? 
Happy  nation,  were  we  blind, 
Or  had  only  eyes  behind  ! 

**  Drown  your  morals,"  madam  orieSy 
"  I  Ml  have  none  but  forward  eyes  | 
Prudes  decay^  about  may  tack. 
Strain  their  necks  with  looking  baok. 
Give  me  time  when  coming  on : 
Who  regards  him  when  he  >  gone  ) 
By  the  dean  though  gravely  told. 
New  years  help  to  make  me  old; 
Yet  I  find  a  new  year's  lace 
Bnruishes  an  old  year's  fiice  s 
Give  mh  velvet  and  quadrille. 
I  'U  have  youth  and  beauty  stilt'* 


A  PASTORAL  DIALOGUE, 

wtrmii  Arret  tbb  mkws  op  the  kiho's  death  '. 

EiCHMOin>-LODOB  IS  a  bouse  with  a  small  park  he- 
longing  to  the  erown.  It  was  usually  granted 
by  the  crown  for  a  lease  of  years.  The  duke  of 
Ormond  was  the  last  who  had  it.  After  his  exile, 
it  was  given  to  the  prince  of  Wales  by  the  king. 
The  prince  and  princess  usually  passed  their 
summer  there.   It  is  within  a  mile  of  Richmond. 

Varble-bill  is  a  bouse  built  by  Mrs.  Howard, 
then  of  the  bed-chamber,  now  oountess  of  Snfiblk, 
and  groom  of  the  stole  to  the  qneen^  It  is  on 
the  Middlesex  side,  near  Twickenham,  where  Mr. 
Pope  lived,  and  about  two  miles  from  Richmond- 
lodge.  Mr.  Pope  was  the  contriver  of  the  gar- 
dens, lord  Herbert  the  architect,  the  dean  of 
St  Patrick's  chief  butler  and  keeper  of  the  ice- 
house. Upon  king  George's  death,  these  two 
booses  met,  and  bad  the  following  dialogue. 

Ik  spite  of  Pope,  in  spite  of  Gay, 
And  all  that  he  or  they  can  say. 
Sing  on  I  must,  and  sing  I  will 
Of  Richmond-lodge  and  Marble-hill^ 

Last  Friday  night,  as  neighbours  use^ 
This  couple  met  to  talk  of  news : 
For  by  oid  proverbs  it  appears, 
That  walls  have  tongues,  and  hedgei  ean. 

MARBLE-HILL. 

QooUi  MaiUe-hiU,  right  well  I  ween. 
Your  mistrew  now  is  grown  a  queen ; 

>  IreUnd. 

>  George  L  who  died  after  a  short  sickoesi  by 
eatmg  a  mekm,  at  Osnaburg,  m  his  way  to  Han- 
over, June  n,  1727.-»The  poem  was  carried  to 
i»urt,  and  r«f|d  to  Imi;  George  XL  and  queen  dh 


You  'II  find  it  soon  by  woeful  proof) 
She  'II  come  no  more  beneath  your  moi^ 

BICHMOND-LODGB. 

The  kingly  prophet  well  evinces. 
That  we  should  put  no  trust  in  prmcest 
My  royal  master  promis'd  me 
To  raise  me  to  a  high  degrto ; 
But  he  's  now  grown  a  king,  God  wot, 
I  fear  I  shall  be  soon  forgot. 
You  see,  when  folks  have  got  their  ends^ 
How  quickly  they  neglect  their  friends  ; 
Yet  I  may  say,  'twixt  me  and  you. 
Pray  God,  they  now  may  find  as  true  ! 

mabb£e-hill. 
My  house  was  built  but  for  a  show. 
My  lady's  empty  pockets  know ; 
And  now  she  will  not  have  a  shilling. 
To  raise  the  stairs,  or  build  the  oiellug  j 
For  all  the  courtly  madams  round  . 

Now  pay  four  shillings  in  the  pound  i 
Tis  come  to  what  i  always  thought : 
My  dame  is  hardly  worth  a  groat. 
Had  you  and  I  been  courtiers  bom. 
We  should  not  thus  have  lain  forlorn  \ 
For  those  we  dextrous  courtiers  caU» 
Can  rise  upon  their  masters' /a/// 
But  we,  unlucky  and  unwise. 
Must /a//  because  our  masters  rite, 

l^ICHMOMD-LODOB. 

My  master,  scarce  a  fortnight  since^ 
Was  grown  as  wealthy  as  a  prince; 
But  now  it  will  be  po  suoh  thing. 
For  he  Ml  be  poor  as  any  king  ; 
And  by  his  crown  will  nothing  get. 
But  like  a  kiug  to  run  in  debt. 

mabblb-bill. 

No  more  the  dean,  that  grave  divinCi 
Shall  keep  the  key  of  my  no— pwine  j; 
My  ice-house  rob,  as  heretofore. 
And  steal  my  artichokes  no  more  ^ 
Poor  Patty  Blount  no  more  be  seen 
Bedraggled  in  my  walks  so  green : 
Plump  Johnny  Gay  will  now  elope  ; 
And  here  no  more  will  dangle  Pope. 

BICHMOND-LODGB. 

Here  wont  the  dean,  when  he  's  to  seal^ 
To  spunge  a  breakfost  once  a  week ; 
To  cry  the  bread  was  stale,  and  mutter 
Complaints  against  the  roQral  bntterii 
But  now  I  fear  it  will  be  said. 
No  butter  sticks  upon  his  bread. 
We  soon  shall  find  him  full  of  spleen* 
For  want  of  tattling  to  the  queen ; 
Stonning  her  royal  ears  with  talking  ; 
His  reverence  and  her  highneu  walking  % 
Whilst  lady  Charlotte  3,  like  a  stroUer,^ 
Sits  mounted  on  the  garden-roUer. 
A  goodly  sight  to  see  her  ride 
With  ancient  Mn-mont  *  at  her  side. 
In  velvet  cap  his  head  lies  warm  ; 
His  hat  for  shpw  beneath  his  aim. 

3  Lady  Charlotte  de  Roussy,  a  French  lady. 
«  JAiUf^  de  AQnvOQt,  a  Tdtof^  man  of  ^aa%« 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4M 


SWVn  POBttB. 


iMtBiS'an.t* 


Some  South-sea  broker  iVom  the  dty 
Will  purchase  me,  the  moie  "s  thepityj 
Lay  all  my  fine  phmtations  waste. 
To  fit  them  to  his  vulgar  tastes 
Chaug'd  for  the  worse  in  ewry  part, 
lly  masker  Tope  will  break  his  heart. 

aiCHMOND-LODGB. 

In  my  own  Thames  may  I  be  dfownded. 
If  e'er  I  stoop  beneath  a  crown'd-beid : 
Except  her  magesty  preyaUs 
To  place  me  with  tlie  prinoe  of  Wales; 
And  then  shall  I  be  ^ree  from  fears. 
For  he  '11  be  prince  these  fifty  years. 
I  then  will  torn  a  eowtierioo, 
And  serve  tlie  times,  as  others  da 
Plain  loyalty,  not  built  on  hope, 
I  leave  to  your  contri*<er.  Pope  s 
None  loves  his  king  and  comitry  betta^ 
Yet  none  was  aver  less  their  debtor. 

|IAftBI,l-HII,L. 

Then  let  him  oome  and  take  a  nap 
In  summer  on  my  vsrdaot  lap; 
Prefer  our  vUlas,  were  the  Thames  is. 
To  Kensington,  or  hot  St.  James's: 
Kor  shall  I  dull  m  sileaoe  sit; 
For  *tis  to  me  he  owes  his  wit ; 
Jtf  y  groves,  my  echoes,  and  my  birds. 
Have  taught  lum  his  poetic  woids. 
TVe  gardens,  and  yon  wildernesses. 
Assist  all  poets  in  distresses. 
Him  twice  a  week  I  here  expect. 
To  rattle  Moody  *  for  neglect; 
An  idle  rogue,  who  spends  his  qoartridge 
In  tipplbg  at  the  Dog  amdtttriridge  ; 
And  I  can  hardly  get  him  down 
Three  tioMS  a  week  to  brush  my  gown. 

RICBUOND-LOOGB. 

I  pity  yon,  dear  Marble-hiU ; 
Bnt  h<^  to  see  you  flourish  stUU 
AD  happiness— and  ao  adieu. 

KARats-nrtL. 

Kind  KIdimond-lodge,  the  same  to  you. 


OmaOLE  AND  POSSESSION. 

1727. 

Ti8  strange,  wlMt^ifieram  tiwughts  inspire 
In  men.  Possession  and  Demre  * 
Think  what  they  wish  so  ^reat  a  blewing  ; 
So  disappointed  when  possessing ! 

A  moralisl  profoundly  sage 
(1  know  not  in  what  book  or  page, 
Or  whether  o'er  a  pot  Of  ale) 
Related  thus  tiie  following  tale. 

Possession,  and  Desire  his  brother, 
But  still  at  variance  with  each  other. 
Were  seen  contending  in  a  race ; 
And  kept  at  first  an  equal  pace : 
Tis  said  their  course  continued  long ; 
For  this  was  active,  that  was  strong : 

•  Ttic  ^araeiier'. 


Till  Envy,  Slander,  Slolh,  alid  IMbC^ 
Misled  them  many  a4ea9ne  aboot. 
Seduc'd  by  some  deceiving  light. 
They  take  the  wrong  way  for  the  right ; 
Through  slippery  by-reads  daik  and  desfv 
Tliey  often  climb,  and  often  creep. 

Desire,  the  swifter  of  the  two. 
Along  the  plain  like  lightoing  flew ; 
Till,  entering  on  a  broad  hif^-wi^, 
Where  powei(  and  tiiief  scattered  lay. 
He  strore  to  pick  up  all  be  foimd, 
And  by  excursions  lost  his  pound  s 
No  sooner  got,  than  with  disdain 
He  threw  them  on  the  ground  agaie$ 
And  hasted  fohvard  to  purnie 
Fresh  otgects  fiurar  to  his  view. 
In  hope  to  spring  some  noUer  gioie  ; 
But  all  he  took  was  jnrt  the  same; 
Too  scornful  now  to  stop  hb  pace. 
He  spum'd  them  in  his  rival's  fooe. 

Possession  kept  the  beaten  road. 
And  gathered  all  his  brother  strow'd; 
But  overcharg'd,  and  oat  of  wind 
Though  strong  m  limbs,  he  lagged  behlrf. 

Desire  had  now  the  goal  in  sight : 
It  was  a  tower  of  monstnMss  beif^ 
Where  on  the  summit  Fortune  stands, 
A  crown  and  sceptre  in  bar  hands ; 
Beneath,  a  chasm  as  deep  as  Hell, 
Where  nsany  a  bold  adventurer  ML 
Desire  in  rapture  gaz'd  awhile. 
And  saw  the  treacherous  goddess  smile  ; 
Bat,  as  he  elimVd  to  giasp  the  orotpn. 
She  knockVl  him  with  the  scmtre  down* 
He  tumbled  in  the  fpaifh  profonnd. 
There  duoro'd  to  whirl  an  endless  roand. 

Possession's  load  was  grown  so  great. 
He  sunk  beneath  the  cumberaus  weigfat : 
And,  as  he  now  expiring  lay. 
Flocks  every  ominous  Inrd  of  prey  ; 
llie  raven,  vulture,  owl,  and  kila. 
At  once  upon  his  carcase  Ugbt, 
And  strip  bis  hide,  and  pick  his  bones. 
Regardless  of  his  dy'mg  groans. 


ON  CENSURE.    1727. 

Ye  wise,  instnict  me  to  endure 

An  evil  which  admits  no  cure ; 

Or  how  this  evil  can  be  home. 

Which  breeds  at  once  both  hate  and  soora. 

Bare  innocence  is  no  support. 

When  you  are  tcy?d  in  Scandal^  court. 

Stand  high  in  honour,  weakh,  or  wkt 

All  others  who  infericnr  sit. 

Conceive  themselves  in  conscience  bound 

To  join,  and  drag  you  to  the  ground. 

Your  altitude  ofTexvls  the  eyes 

Of  those  who  want  the  power  to  rise. 

The  worid,  a  w'dltag  ctaoder-^ 

Inclines  to  aid  a  specious  lye ; 

Alas!  they  would  not  do  you  wrong ; 

But  all  appeavances  are  strong^ 

Yet  whence  prooeeds  this  weSght.w*  lay 
On  what  detnsffting  people  say  ? 
For  lot  epankiad  dBschai|^  t^tu  tongues 
In  venom,  till  they  burst  their  lungs. 


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THE  FURNITBItt  <JP  A  WOMAN^  MIND. 


4Ct 


Ibdr  utmost  mdKce  cimiot  iMke 
Your  heU,  or  toolb,  or  finger ake; 
Nor  tpoU  your  shape,  diitott  your  6te^ 
Or  put  one  fealnie  outof  plaee  $ 
Nor  win  you  find  your  fbituno  ank 
By  what  they  speak  or  what  they  think; 
Nor  can  ten  hundred  thousand  lyea 
Make  yon  lest  virtuous,  ieam'd,  or  wiie. 

The  most  effectual  way  to  baulk 
Their  malioe,  it— to  let  them  talk. 


THE  FURNITURE 
OF  A  WOMAN'S  BfIN0.     1797. 

A  ssT  of  phraasi  learnt  by  rote; 
A  passion  for  a  soarlet^«oat; 
When  at  a  play,  to  laug^,  or  cry> 
Yet  cannot  teU  the  reason  why ; 
Never  to  hold  her  tongue  a  minute. 
While  all  she  prates  has  nothing  in  it; 
Whole  hours  can  with  a  coxcomb  sit. 
And  take  his  nonsense  all  for  wit ; 
Her  leammg  mounts  to  read  a  song, 
But  half  the  words  pronouncing  wrong  ; 
Hath  every  repartee  in  store 
She  spoke  ten  thousand  times  before ; 
Can  ready  compliments  supply 
On  all  occasions,  cut  and  dry; 
Such  hatred  to  a  parson^s  gown. 
The  sight  will  put  her  in  a  swoon; 
For  conversation  well  endued^ 
She  calls  it  witty  to  be  rude  ; 
And,  placing  rsoUevy  ia  railiftg, 
WiU  tell  aloud  your  greatest  failffig; 
Nor  make  a  scruple  to  expose 
Your  bandy  leg,  or  crooked  nose ; 
Can  at  her  momiag  tea  run  o^er 
The  scandal  of  the  d^y  before ; 
Improving  hourly  in  her  skill 
To  cheat  and  wrangle  at  quadrille. 

In  choosing  lace,  a  critic  nice. 
Knows  to  a  groat  the  lowest  price ; 
Can  in  her  female  chibs  dispute. 
What  linen  best  the  silk  mill  suit. 
What  colours  each  complexion  match, 
And  wbBre-with  act  to  piace  a  patch. 

If  chaaee  a  JBoase  creeps  iu  her  n'l^bM, 
Can  finely  counterfeit  a  fright ; , 
So  sweetly  screams,  if  it  comes  near  her. 
She  ravishes  all  hearts  to  bear  her. 
Can  dcxtiously  her  husband  tease. 
By  taking  fits  whenever  she  please ; 
By  frequent  practice  learns  the  trick 
M  proper  seasons  to  be  sick ; 
Thinks  nothing  gives  one  airs  so  pretty. 
At  once  creating  love  and  pity. 
If  Molly  happens  to  be  careless. 
And  but  neglects  to  #arm  her  hair-laoe. 
She  gets  a  cold  us  sure  as  death, 
And  vows  she  scarce  can  fttofa  her  bnolb^ 
Admires  how  modest  women  can 
Be  so  robustious,  Tike  a  man. 

In  party,  furious  to  her  power; 
A  bitter  Whig,  or  Tory  sour  ; 
Her  arguments  directly  tend 
i^fiinsttfwi  side  she  would  defend; 


Will  prove  herself  »Tsry  1 
From  principles  the  Whigs  maintain; 
i  And,  to  defend  the  WliiM;i*b  canae^ 
Her  topics  from  the  Tories  drawi. 

O  yes  1  if  any  man  can  find 
|More  virtues  in  a  woman*s  moidy 
Let  them  be  sent  to  Mrs.  Harding  >; 
[She  'II  pay  the  charges  to  a  &rthing| 
Take  notice,  she  has  my  commisskm 
To  add  them  in  the  next  edition ; 
They  may  out-sell  a  better  thing : 
:So,halk»>boyB;  God  save  the  king! 


CLEVER  tOM  CUNGB 

UOING  TO  IB  BAWODii     1797*^ 

As  clever  Tom  Clinch,  wlule  therabble  was  bawling^ 
Rode  stately  through  Holbonm  to  die  in  his  calliui^ 
He  stopt  at  The  jQeoiise  for  a  bottle  of  sack. 
And  prooMt'd  to  pay  for  it  when  he  came  biKk. 
His  waistcoat,  and.  stockings,  and  breeches,  wem 
His  cap  had  a  new  cherry  ribband  to  tye  *t[white  ^ 
{The  niaids  to  the  doOrs  and  the  bidooiiles  nfA, 
And  said,  "  Lack^a-d^yf   he  's  a  proper  ya«ftr 

man!" 
But,  as  from  the  windows  the  liidies  he  spy'd 
like  a  beau  ro  the  box,  he  bow'd  low  on  each  side; 
And,  when  his  last  speech  the  kmd  hawkers  did  ct% 
He  swore  from  his- cart,  "  It  was  all  adama'dlye!^ 
The  hangman  for  pardon  fell  down  on  his  knee; 
Tom  gave  him  a  kick  in  the  gntd  for  his  fee : 
'Then  said,  "  I  nmstspeak  to  the  people  a  litde; 
■But  I  Ml  see  you  all  damned  before  I  will  whittie  K 
•  My  honest  friend  Wild  ^  may  he  long  hold  his  pteoc^ 
He  lengthened  my*  life  with  a  ♦hole  year  of  graoeu 
Take  courage,  d#&ar  comrades,  and  be  not  afraU^^ 
'N'or  slip  this  occasion  to  follow  yo«tr  tfade; 
My  conscience  is  clear,  and  my  sphritl  arfc  csln^ 
And  thus  I  go  off  wttboot  prayer-book  orpsahU; 
Then  follow  the  practice  of  clover  Tom  Clinch, 
Who  hong  like  a  hero,  and  never  WOCdd^ffindi.'' 


DR.  SWIFT  TO  MR.  POPB, 

WHILB    HE   WAS   WRTTtNG   THft  DOMClAfiw 

PopB  has  the  talent  weR  to  Speik^ 

Hut  not  to  reach  the  ear ; 
His  loudest  voice  is  low  and  weak^ 

The  dean  too  deaf  to  hear. 
Awhile  they  on  each  other-look. 

Then  different  studies  chuse : 
•The  dean  sits  plodding  on  a  bodk ; . 

Pope  walks,  and  courts  the  Mos^ 
Now  backs  of  letters  ♦,  though  designed 
>    For  those  who  more  wiH  need  'em, 
,Are  fill'd  with  hints,  and  interlined, 
;    Himself  can  hardly  read  'em. 

I  Widow  of  John  Harding,  the  Drapler^  prin- 
ter.   N, 

*  A  dant  word  9c/t  confessing  at  the  gaHows: 

3  The  noted  thief-catcher,  under-keeper  of  New- 
gate, who  was  hanged  for  receiving  stolen  goods. 

*  An  alli«ion  to  the  tbguhrity  meiftlbDed '  p. 

453.  ^■. 


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JlSt 

Each  atom  hy  womejoi^hi&t  rtnick 

AH  turns  and  motioiis  tries : 
Till,  in  a  lump  together  stuck 

Behold  a  poem  rise ! 
Vet  to  the  dean  his  share  allot  | 

He  claims  it  by  a  canon ; 
Thai  xcithoui  wjnch  a  thing  h  ik>ii 

Is,  cauta  sine  fuA  ntm. 
Thus,  Pope,  m  fain  yoti  boast  yolir  %ii  | 

For,  had  our  deaf  dirioe 
Been  for  your  conversation  fit. 

You  had  not  writ  a  Ime. 

Of  Sherlock  &  thus,  for  preachinf  hm*d. 

Hie  sexton  reasoned  well ; 
And  justly  half  the  merit  claimed. 

Because  be  rang  ike  bfiL 


SWIFTS  POEMS; 


A  LOVE  POEM 


ttLOU  A  nrncHM  to  bis  mistiiss. 
Varmii  AtLOWnoK  in  the  riAa  1787. 

Br  poets  we  are  well  assured 

That  love,  alas !  can  ne'er  be  cur^d: 

A  complicated  heap  of  Uls, 

Despising  bcluset  and  piUt, 

Ah  f  Chloe,  this  I  find  is  true, 

Since  first  I  gave  my  heart  to  yoo^ 

liow,  by  your  cruelty  hard-bound, 

I  strain  my  guts,  my  toion  wound. 

Kow  jealousy  my  grumbling  trpet 

Assaults  with  grating,  grinding  gripes^ 

When  pity  in  those  eyes  I  view. 

My  battels  wamblrog  make  me  spem 

"rnken  I  an  amorous  kiss  designed, 

I  btlch^d  a  hurricane  of  tnnd. 

Once  you  a  gentle  sigh  let  foil; 

Remember  bow  I  tucfd  it  all : 

What  colic  pangi  from  thence  I  fo)t> 

Had  you  but  known,  your  heart  would  melt, 

like  ruffling  win^s  in  caverns  pent. 

Till  nature  pointed  out  a  vent 

How  have  you  torn  my  heart  to  pieces 

With  maggots,  humours,  and  caprices ! 

By  which  I  got  the  haemorrhoids  ; 

And  loathsome  toorms  my  onus  voidt. 

WheneW  I  hear  a  rival  nam*d; 

I  feel  my  body  all  infiam'd  j 

Which,  breaking  out  in  bmU  and  btanes^ 

With  yellow  filth  my  linen  stains ; 

Or,  parch'd  with  unextinguishM  Uurstt 

Sniall4)eer  I  guzzle  till  I  burst : 

And  then  I  drag  a  bk)ated  corpus, 

Swell'd  with  a  dropsy,  like  a  porpoise  ; 

When,  if  1  cannot  purge  or  stale, 

I  must  be  tappVl  to  fill  apotZ. 


DEANSiriFt 
AT  SIR  ARTHUR  ACHGSON^ 

tH  TAB  MOITB  OP  lEBtAKD. 

Tab  de|p  would  visit  Bfaiket-hill  | 

Our  invitation  was  but  sbght : 
I  said— "  Why  let  him,  if  be  will  ;*> 

Aim!  so  1  bade  air  Arthur  write. 

•  Hie  dean  of  SLPatd^fotber  to  Um  bishop.  N. 


His  maonei*  woM  not  let  him  wait. 

Lost  we  should  think  oursdves  nagjteclea  } 
And  so  we  sajr  him  at  our  gate 

Three  days  before  he  was  eicpectod* 
After  a  week,  a  month,  a  quarter. 

And  day  succeeding  after  day. 
Says  not  a  word  of  his  departure. 

Though  not  a  soul  woiUd  have  him  stay« 
I  've  said  enough  to  make  him  blush, 

Methinks,  or  else  the  devil 's  in  t| 
But  he  cares  not  for  it  a  rush, 

Nor  for  my  life  wffl  tiike  tbiS  hhit. 

But  you,  my  dear,  may  let  him  know. 

In  civil  language,  if  he  sbtyS, 
How  deep  and  fool  the  roads  may  grow^ 

And  that  he  may  command  the  chaisci 

Or  you  may  say — *f  My  wife  inteftda, . 

lliough  I  should  be  e^cceeding' proud, 
litis  winter  to  hivite  some  friencb ; 

And,  sir,  I  know,  you  hate  a  crowd.'* 
Or,  '*  Mr.  dean— I  should  with  joy 

Beg  you  would  here  continue  still ; 
But  we  must  go  to  Agfanacloy  >, 

Or  Mr.  Moore  will  take  it  ilL>* 
The  house  accounts  are  daily  rising ; 

So  much  bis  stay  doth  swell  the  bills  $ 
My  dearest  life,  it  is  surprising 

How  much  Ite  eats,  liow  much  be  swills* 
His  brace  of  puppies  bow  they  stuff! 

And  they  must  have  three  meals  a  day> 
Yet  never  think  they  get  enough  ;' 

His  horses  too  eat  all  odr  bay. 
Oh !  if  I  could,  how  I  would  maul 

His  tallow-foce,  and  wamaoot^)aws» 
His  beetle-brow*,  and  eyes  of  wall, 

And  make  him  soon  give  op  the  cause ! 
Must  I  be  every  moment  chid 

With  Skinny  bonia.  Snipe,  and  Lean  *  f 
Oh  !  that  I  could  but  ooce  be  rid 

Of  this  insulting  tyrant  dean  I 


ON  A  VERY  OLD  GLASS 

AT   MABBBT-BIIU 

Frail  glass !  thou  bear'st  that  name  at  w^  as  I| 
Though  none  can  tell,  whidi  of  us  first  sbill  die. 

AMSWBBBO  BZTBMHMIB  Bt  M.  SWtFT. 

Mb  only  chance  can  kill;  thou,  firailer  creature^ 
May'st die,  like  me,  by  chance;  butmustby  naturei 


ON  CVTTINQ  DOWN  THE  OLD  THORN 

AT  MARKET-HILL »• 

At  Market-hiU,  as  well  appears. 

By  chron^  of  ancient  date. 
There  stood  for  many  hundred  yean 

A  spackms  thorn  before  the  gate« 

>  The  seat  of  Acheson  Moore,  eai). 

s  The  dean  used  to  call  lady  Achesoo  by  ^mm 


3  A  village  near  the  seat  of  sir  Arthur  Acheaooi 
where  the  dean  sometimes  made  a  long  visit  Tha 
tree,  which  was  i  remailcable  one,  was  Inndi  at* 


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CAOTATA. 


4lSt 


'fijtiMr  came  every  villafe«aMud, 

And  OD  the  boughs  her  garland  nun; ; 
And  here,  beneath  the  spreading  shade. 

Secure  frcKn  satyrs  sate  and  sung. 
Sr  Archibald  *,  that  valoroos  knight. 

The  lord  of  all  the  fruitful  plahi. 
Would  come  and  listen  with  delight  | 

For  he  was  fond  of  rural  strain. 
(Sir  Archibald,  whose  ^vourite  rtaitttf 

Shall  stand  for  ages  on  record, 
By  Scottish  bards  of  highest  ftime, 

Wise  Hawthomden  and  Stirling's  Ibrd  *.)• 

But  Time  with  iron  teeth,  I  ween, 

Has  canker'd  all  its  branches  round  j 
Ko  fruit  or  blossom  to  be  seen. 

Its  head  reclining  towards  tlie  ground. 
This  aged,  sickly,  sapless  thorn, 

Which  roust,  alas  !  no  longer  stand. 
Behold  the  cruel  dean  in  scorn 

Cuts  down  with  sacrilegious  hand. 
Dame  Nature,  when  she  saw  the  blow, 

Aftonish*d,  gave  a  dreadful  shriek  : 
And  mother  Tellus  trembled  so, 

« She  scarte  rtcover*d  in  a  week. 
The  sylvan  powers,  with  fear  perplex'd, 

Tn  prudence  and  compassion,  sent 
(For  none  could  t<^ll  whose  turn  was  next) 

Sad  omens  of  the  dire  event 
Tfie  magpie,  lighting  on  the  stock. 

Stood  chattering  with  incessant  din ; 
And  with  her  beak  gave  many  a  knock. 

To  rouse  and  warn  the  njrmph  within. 
The  owl  foresaw,  In  pensive  mood, 

TTie  ruip  of  her  ancient  seat ; 
And  fled  in  haste,  with  alt  her  brood, 

To  seek  a  more  secure  retreat 
Last  trolled  forth  the  gentle  swine. 

To  ease  her  itch  against  the  stump, 
4tad  dismally  was  heard  to  whine. 

All  as  she  scrubbed  her  measly  rump. 
The  nymph  who  dwells  in  every  tree, 

(If  all  be  true  that  poets  chant) 
Condemned  by  fate  t  supreme  decree^ 

Must  die  with  her  expiring  plant 
Thus,  when  the  gentle  Spina  found 

The  thorn  committed  to  her  care 
Receiv'd  its  last  and  deadly  wound. 

She  fled,  and  vanishM  into  air. 
Bat  fmn  the  root  a  dismal  groan 

First  issuing  struck  the  murdcrer^s  e^lrs ; 
And,  In  a  shrill  revengful  tone. 

This  prophecy  he  trembling  hears : 

fiiired  by  the  knight  Yet  the  dean,  in  one  of  his 
mkaccountable  humours,  gave  directioiis  for  rutting' 
it  down  in  the  absence  of  sir  Arthur^  who  was  ci 
courie  highly  incensed,  nor  would  see  Swift  for  j 
•qme  time  after.  By  way  of  making  his  peace,  the 
dean  wrote  this  poem ;  which  haid  the  desred  , 
effect    iV.  I 

*  Sir  Archibald  Achesoo,' lecretary  of  state  fi>r  ; 
Spiitlaod. 

^  DrummoDd  of  Hawthomden,  and  sir  WiUiam  ' 
^Iftxander  earl  of  Stirlmg,  who  were  both  friends 
to  m  ArohibaJd,  and  fianoos  for  their  poetry.  I 


"  Thou  chief  contriver  of  iliy  Ml« 

Relentless  dean,  to  mischief  born  i 
My  kindred  oh  thine  hide  shall  gall. 

Thy  gown  and  caasoc  oft  be  torn. 
'*  And  thy  confederate  dame,  who  bragt 

That  she  condemn*d  me  to  the  fire. 
Shall  rend  her  petticoats  to  rags, 

And  wound  her  legs  with  every  briery 
"  Nor  thou,  lord  Arthur  ^,  shalt  escape  | 

To  thee  I  often  calPd  in  vain. 
Against  that  assassin  in  crape : 

Yet  thou  could'st  tamely  see  me  slain  i 
•«  Nor,  when  I  felt  the  dreadful  blow. 

Or  chid  the  dean,  or  pinch'd  thy  spoowi 
Since  you  could  see  me  treated  so 

(An  old  retainer  to  your  house) : 
"  May  that  fell  dean,  by  whose  command 

Was  form*d  this  Machiavilian  plot. 
Not  leave  a  thistle  on  thy  IsmA ; 

Then  who  will  oikrn  theb  for  a  Scot  ? 

"  Pigs  and  fanatic^,  cows  and  teagues^ 

Through  all  thy  empire  I  foresee, 
To  tear  thy  hedges,  join  in  leagues, 

Sworn  to  revenge  my  thorn  and  me* 
"  And  thou,  the  wretch  ordain*d  by  fiite, 

Neal  Gahagan,  Hibernian  clown. 
With  hatchet  blimter  than  thy  pate. 

To  hack  my  hallowed  timber  down  ; 

**  When  thou,  suspended  high  in  air, . 

Dy*st  on  a  ipore  ignoble  tree 
(For  thou  shalt  steal  thy  lapdlord's  mtte)| 

Then,  bloody  caitif !  think  on  me.'* 


cantjtak 

In  harmony  would  you  excel, 

Suit  your  words  to  your  music  well^ 

For  Pegasu^  runs  every  race 

By  galloping  high,  or  level  pace, 

Or  ambling,  or  sweet  Canterburyi 

Or  with  a  down,  a  high  down  den^* 

No  Victory  he  ever  got 

By  joggling,  joggling,  jogglhig  trot; 

No  muse  harmonious  entertains 

Rough,  roistering,  rustic,  roaring  strains. 

Nor  shall  yon  twine  the  crackling  bays    ' 

By  sneaking,  sniveling  roundelays. 

New  slowly  move  your  fiddleZrtick  ; 
Now,  tantan,  tantantivi,  quick; 

<  Sir  Arthur  Acheson. 

1  This  cantata  is  printed  with  the  ininfc  In  aH 
the  London  editions  of  Swift.  Dr.  Beattie,  after 
censuring  the  practise  of  what  he  calls  "  illicit 
imitation,'*  observes,  that  '<  this  abnse  of  a  noble 
art  did  not  escape  the  satire  of  Swift ;  who  thou^ 
deaf  to  the  charms  of  music,  was  not  bUnd  to  the 
absurdity  of  musicians.  He  recommended  it  to 
Dr.  Echlin,  an  ingemoos  gentSeman  of  Ireland,  to 
compose  a  cantaU  in  ri<!Bcule  of  this  puerile 
mimicry.  Here  we  have  motkmt  hnitated,  which 
are  the  most  inharmonioas,  and  sounds  the  most 
unmusica].— In  a  word.  Swift's  cantata  may  con* 
vince  any  person^  that  taoaie^  if  only  imitiftiTCh 
woald  he  adicuknis."    if. 


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4S4 


SWIFTS  POQIS. 


Now  tmnbnni^,  shhnBtmgy  qnlfwittjf,  (|iuiuti^» 
Set  hopiDg  hearts  of  lovers  acfahig. 
Fly,  Hy,  above  the  sky, 
Bambliog,  gambling,  trollophig,  loHoping,  gallophig. 
Now  8w«ep,  sweep  tbe  deqpi. 
See  Celia,  Celia  dies. 
While  true  lovers*  63^1 
Weeping  deep,  sleeping  weep. 
Weeping  sleep,  bo  peep,  bo  peep. 


EPITAPH 

Jgt  MttSKLir,   GLOVCESnttflltC. 

Hbks  ties  tbe  earl  of  Siifiblk*s  (bol. 
Men  call*d  bun  Dicky  Pearce ; 

His  folly  serv'd  to  make  folks  laugh, 
When  wit  and  mirth  where  scarce. 

Poor  Dick,  alas !  is  dead  and  gone. 

What  signifies  to  cry  ? 
Dickys  enough  are  still  behind. 

To  laugh  at  by  and  by. 

Buried  June  18,  1728,  aged  63. 


BfY  LADY'S » 


l^MENTjiTlON  AND  COMPLAINT 

AOAINSfT  THE  DEAN. 

jvvr  28,  1728. 


Seal  never  did  man  see 
A  wretch  like  poor  Nancy, 
So  teas'd  day  and  night 
By  a  dean  wad  a  kni^t 
To  punbh  my  sins. 
Sir  Arthur  begins. 
And  gives  me  a  wipe 
With  Skmny  and  Snipe  s : 
His  malice  is  plain. 
Hallooing  the  dean. 
The  dean  never  stops 
When  he  opens  his  chqw; 
I  'm  quite  over-run 
With  rebus  and  pun. 

Before  he  came  here 
To  spnnge  for  goodoheer, 
I  sate  with  deUgfat, 
From  morning  till  night, 
With  two  bony  thumbs 
Could  rub  my  old  gums. 
Or  scratchiog  my  pose, 
And  jogging  my  toes  J 
But  at  present,  forsooth, 
I  must  not  rub  a  tooth. 
When  my  elbows  he  sees 
Held  up  by  my  knees. 
My  annS)  like  two  props 
Supporting  my  chops. 
And  just  as  I  handle  'em 
Moving  all  like  a  pendu- 
lum; 
He  trips  IIP  my  props. 
And  dowainy  ^hmdropty 

>  Lady  Acbesoa. 


From  myhead  to  myheels; 
Like    a    clock    without 

wheels; 
I  sink  in  the  spleen. 
An  useless  machine. 

If  he  had  his  will, 
I  should  never  sit  still : 
He  comes  with  bis  whims, 
I  must  move  my  limbs ; 
I  cannot  be  swet^t 
Without  using  my  feet; 
To  lengthen  my  breath. 
He  tires  me  to  death. 
By  the  worst  of  all  squires,- 
Through  bogs  and  through 

briei*, 
Where  a  cow  would  be 

•titled,'  ned, 

Pm  in  spite  of  my  heart 
And,  say  what  I  will, 
Hanl'd  up  every  hill ; 
Till,  daip^  and  tatter'd. 
My  spiritsquite  shattered, 
I  vetum  home  at  nig^it. 
And  fast,  out  of  spite  t 
For  I  *d  father  be  dead. 
Than  it  e'ccshouldbesiid, 
I  was  better  for  him 
In  BtomaGh  or  limb. 

.  But  now  to  my  diet ; 
No  eating  in  quiet. 
He 's  still  finding  fiuilt» 
Too  flour  or  tpo  salt: 

'  SSeep.462. 


The  wing  of  a  chick  1 11  dioiw  fm  tb«  way  : 

t  hardly  can  pick;  Raadsaclwuna  Aiy. 

But  trasbwithoat  mcasui^  The  wits  wiU  frequent  ye, 
I  swallow  with  pleasure.   AndtliinkyonbattweBty.'' 

Next  for  his  diversion.      Thus  was  1  drawn  isi ; 
He  rails  at  my  person :     Forgive  me  my  sin. 
What  court-breeding  this  At  break£ut  he  'U  ask 

is!  An  account  of  my  tadc 

He  takes  me  to  peioes :     Put  a  word  out  of  joint. 
From  shoulder  to  flank     Or  miss  but  a  point, 
I  'm  lean  and  am  lank  ;    He  rages  and  firets. 
My  nose,  long  and  thin,    Hn  n^anners  forgets ; 
Grows  down  to  my  chin  ;  And,  as  I  am  serious^ 
My  chin  will  not  stay.      Is  very  imperiotts. 
But  meets  it  halfway;     No  book  for  delight 
My  fingers,  prolix.  Most  come  in  my  sight ; 

Are  ten  croocked  sticks :  But,  histead  of  new  piayt. 
He  swears  my  el — ^bows    Dull  Bncon's  Essajrs, 
Are  two  iron  crows.  And  pore  every  day  on 

Or  sharp-pointed  rocks.    That  nasty  Psstheoo. 
Andwearoutmysmocla:  If  I  be  not  a  drudge, 
To*8Cape  them,  sir  Arthur  Let  all  the  world  judge. 
Is  forc'd  to  lie  further,      'Twere  better  be  blind, 
Orhis  sides  thcjTWOuldgore  Than  thus  be  oonfin'd. 
Like  tbe  tusk  of  a  boar.        But,  whilein  an  ill  tone. 
Now,  changmg  the  scene,  I  murder  poor  Miltoo, 
But  still  to  the  dean :        Tbe  dem,  you  will  swear 
He  loves  to  be  bitter  at     Is  at  study  or  prayer. 
A  lady  illiterate ;  He  's  alt  the  day  saunter- 

If  he  sees  her  but  once,        ing, 
-He  Ml  swear  she 's  a  dunce;  With  labourers  banteroBg, 
Can  tell  by  her  looks        Among  his  colleagues, 
.A  hater  of  books ;     [face  A  parcel  of  Teagoes, 
Through  each  line  of  her  (Whom  he  brings  in  m- 
Her  folly  can  trace ;  mong  us,         Qpu)* 

Which  spoils  every  feature  And  brib^  with  mundiu- 
Bestow'd  her  by  nature ;  Hail  follow,  well  met. 
But  sense  gives  a  grace    All  dirty  and  wet : 
To  the  homeliest  foce  :     Find  out,  if  you  can. 
With  books  and  reflection  Who'smaster^who'sman; 
Will  mend  the  complex- Who  makesthebestfigure, 
(A  civil  divine !         [ion :  The  dean  or  the  digger  ; 
I  suppose,  meaningmine!)  And  which  is  the  best 
No  lady  who  wants  them  At  ersckhig  a  jest 
Can  ever  be  handsome.      How  proodly  be  ulks 

I  guess  well  enough      Of  sigxags  and  walks ; 
What  he  meant  by  this  And  alt  die  day  raves 

stuff:  Of  cradles  and  caves ; 

He  haws  and  he  hums.     And  bodsts  of  his  feats. 
At  last  out  it  comes:  [ing.  His  grottos  and  seats  ; 
"What!  madam!  nowslk-  Shows  all  his  gew — gaws. 
No  reading;  nor  talking  ?  And  gapes  for  appUuse  ; 
You 're  now  in  yoitr  prime,  A  fine  occopataon 
Make  use  of  your  time.    For  one  in  his  station ! 
Consider,  liefbre  .  A  hole  where  a  rabbit 

You  come  to  three  score,  Wouki  scorn  to  inhabit. 
How  the  hussies  will  fleer  Dug  out  m  an  hour; 
Where'er  yon  appear :      He  calls  it  a  bower. 
<  That  silly  okt  puss  But,  oh  I  bow  we  lau^ 

Would  fern  be  like  us.      To  see  a  wiM  calf 
What  a  figure  she  made  Come,  driven  by  heel, 
Inhertimish'dbroeadel''  And  Ibul  the  green  flettt  | 

Andthenhegrowsnnid:  Or  ran  balter-skeltBr 
"Come,  be  a  good  child:  To  his  arbour,  for  sheherf 
If  you  ate  indi&'d  Wherft  all  goes  to  ruin 

To  polish  your  mind,        ^le  dean  has  been  doing  t- 
Be  adoiM  by  tbe  m«a      The  girls  of  tbe  Tillafe 
Till  threeMore  and  ten.    Come  ftodring  forpHhge,- 
And  kiU  with  the  epteen  PttU  dawn  .the  Aiie  facieva - 
Tbe  jades  of  sateen;       And  tbonsy  to  make  fires; 


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PASTORAL'DIALOGUE. 


4fi4 


%(*  y«t  ire  80  kbd  (For,  under  the  fOM. 

T6  leftve  eomethiog  be-  I   would  rather   choose 

hhid:  thoie);  [ye, 

KomoreiieedbeHudon^t  Ifyourwivet  will  permit 
t  smell  when  I  tread  on  *t  Come  here,  out  of  pity. 

Dear    fnend,    doctor  To  ease  a  poor  lady. 
Jeany,  And  beg  her  a  play-day. 

If  I  could  but  win  ye.       So  may  you  be  seen 
Or  Walmsley  or  Whaley,  No  more  in  the  spleen ! 
To  come  hither  daily,       May  Walmsley  give  wine, 
Shice  fortune,  my  foe>      V^®  ^  hearty  divroe ! 
Will  needs  have  it  so.       May  Whaley  disgrace 
That  f  >m,  by  her  frowns,  Doll  Daniel's  whey-iace ! 
Condemn*d     to     bladk  And    may    your    three 

go^^nis,;  Spouses 

No  squire  to  be  found       Let  you  lie   at  friend*' 
The  neighboarfaobd  round     houses  I 


A  PASTORAL  DIALOQUK  1728. 

BBftMOT.      SHISLAH. 

A  WTMPB  and  swmn,  Sbeelah  and  Dermot  bight. 
Who  wont  to  weed  the  court  of  *  Gosford  knigh^ 
While  each  with  stubbed  knife  remoT'd  the  roots. 
That  raisM  betwen  the  stones  their  daily  shoots ; 
As  at  their  work  they  sate  in  counterview, 
With  mutual  beauty  smit,  their  passioii  grew, 
ISing,  hieavenly  Muse,  in  sweetly-flowing  strain 
The  soft  endearments  of  the  nymph  and  swain. 

DsaifOT. 
My  love  to  Sheeliih  is  more  firmly  flxt. 
Than  stsongest  weeds  that  grow  these  stones  betwixt : 
My  spud  these  nettles  from  the  stones  can  part ; 
Ko  knife  so  keen  to  weed  thee  from  my  heart. 

SBBfLAU. 

My  love  for  gentle  Dermot  fester  grows, 
Than  yon  tall  dock  that  rises  to  thy  nose. 
Cot  down  the  dock,  'twill  sprout  again :  but,  oh  f 
I^ve  rooted  out,  again  will  never  grow. 

Dbrmot. 
No  more  that  brier  thy  tender  leg  shall  rake 
(I  spare  the  thisUes  for  8hr  Arthur's  .<  sake) 
Sharp  are  the  stones ;  take  thou  this  rushy  mat ; 
The  hardest  bum  wUI  bruise  with  sitting  squat 

^  SUBBLAH. 

Thy  breeches,  torn  behhid.  stand  gaphig  wide; 
This  pnttiooat  shall  save  thy  dear  backside : 
Nor  need  I  Mush ;  although  you  feel  it  wet, 
Dermot,  I  vow,  tis  nothing  else  but  sweat 

Dbrmot. 
At  an  old  stubborn  root  I  chanc'd  to  tog. 
When  the  dean  threw  me  this  tobacoo-plof : 
A  longer  ha'p'orth  never  did  1  see ; 
This,  dearest  Sheelah ,  thou  f  halt  share  wkh  me. 

Shiblah. 

In  at  tbe  pantry-door  this  mom  I  slipt,    . 
And  from  the  sheif  a  charming  crust  I  whipt : 
Dennis  '  was  out,  and  I  got  hither  safe; 
And  thou,  my  dear,  shalt  have  the  bigger  half. 

'  Shr  Arthur  Acheson 

•  Who  was  a  great  lover  of  ScotUud. 

•SirArthur»fbiitHpr. 

VOL.  a 


DsRMor. 
When  you  saw  Tady  at  long -bullets  play. 
You  sate  and  1ous*d  him  all  a  sun-shine  day. 
How  could  you,  Sheelah,  listen  to  his  tales. 
Or  crack  such  lice  as  his  betwixt  your  nails  ? 

StfBBLAH. 

When  you  with  Onah  stood  behind  a  ditch, 
T  peep'd,  and  saw  you  kiss  the  dirty  bitch. 
Dermot,  how  could  you  touch  these  nasty  shits  } 
I  aloKkst  wish'd  this  spud  were  in  your  guts. 

Dbrmot. 
If  Onah  once  I  ktss*d,  forbear  to  chide  ; 
Her  aunt 's  my  gossip  by  my  fetber's  side: 
But,  if  I  ever  touch  her  lips  again. 
May  I  be  doom'd  for  life  to  weed  In  nun  t 

SOBBLAII. 

Dermot,  I  swear,  though  Tady*s  locks  could  hoi 
Ten  thousand  lice,  fual  every  louse  was  gold! 
If  im  on  my  lap  you  never  more  shall  see  ;    . 
Or  may  I  lose  my  weeding  knife— and  thee  j 

Dbrmot. 
Oh,  could  I  earn  for  thee,  my  lovely  lass, 
A  pair  of  brogues  *  to  bear  thee  dry  to  mass  ! 
But  see^  where  Norah  with  the  sowins  comes— 
Then  let  us  rise,  and  rest  our  weary  bums. 


ON  TBB 

FIFE  LADIES  AT  SOT'S-HOLE » 
WTTH  THE  DOCTOR  «  AT  THEIR  HBAa 

W.  B.  TBB  LADIES  TRBATBD  THB  DOCTOR. 
IBNT  AS  FtOM  AN  OPPICBR  IN  T^B  ARMY*    172t. 

Fair  ladies,  number  five. 

Who,  in  your  merry  freaks. 
With  little  Tom  contrive 

To  feait  on  ale  and  steaks;  < 

While  he  sits  by  a-grinning. 

To  see  you  safe  hi  Sot*s-hole, 
Set  up  with  greasy  linen, 

And  neither  mugs  nor  pots  wholt : 
Alas !  I  never  thought 

A  priest  would  please  your  palatei 
Besides  1 11  hold  a  groat. 

He  '11  put  you  in  a  ballad; 

Where  I  shall  see  vour  feces 

On  paper  daubed  so  foul. 
They  'II  be  no  more  like  Grace^^ 

Than  Venus  like  an  owl. 

And  we  shall  take  you  rather 

To  be  a  midnight  padc 
Of  witches  met  together. 

With  Beehebnb  m  blac^ 
It  flllB  my  heart  with  woe, 

To  thnik,  such  ladies  fine 
Shall  be  redoc'd  so  tow 

To  treat  a  dull  divme. 

«  Shoes  wM^fla^  low  he^ 
1  An  alehouse  in  Dublin,  hi^ifm  fer  b«ef.4td«ky 
<Dr.  TbottMSb^ridaB. 


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4£$ 

Be  by  apanon  cheated  I 

Had  yott  been  cumung  ftagett| 
You  might  yoorselvefl  be  treated 

By  captains  and  by  mtyon* 
See  how  corruption  groviy 

While  mothers,  daughters,  aunts. 
Instead  of  oowder'd  beaux, 

From  piupits  choose  gallants  I 
If  we,  who  wear  our  wigs 

With  ian-tail  and  with  snake, 
Are  bubbled  thus  by  prigs ; 

Z— ds  1  who  would  be  a  TdUffi} 

Hadlaheartto^gfat, 

I  *d  knock  the  doctor  dofn  s 

Or  could  I  read  or  write. 
Egad  !  I  'd  we^r  a  gown. 

Then  leave  him  \jo  his  birch  ^  ; 

And  at  The  Hose  on  Sunday  j, 
The  parson  safe  at  church, 

1  'U  tre^t  y9!u  wRh  burgundy. 


THE  FIVE  LADIES*  ANSfTER 
TO  TriE  BEAU 

HITH  THl  WJC  4UP  WI|?C«  4T  Hit  U*4Jk 

Yop  little  scribbUng  bean. 

What  demon  made  you  write } 
Because  tp  write  you  know 

As  much  as  you  can  fight. 
For  cdmpliment  so  scurvy, 

^  wish  we  had  you  here; 
We'd  turn  you  topsy-t^igCT 

Into  a  mwg  ot  »#. 

You  thought  to  make  a  iarce  on 

The  man  and  place  ^e  chose  ; 
We  're  snre  a  single  parson 

Is  worth  an  hundred  beaux. 
And  you  would  make  us  yastals, 

Qood  Mr.  wig  and  wW*> 
To  silver-clocks  and  tassels : 

You  would,  yov  tbi)V  9^  thin||  I 
Because  around  your  cane 

A  nng  of  diauMttds  is  sets 
And  you,  hi  sonie  by  Wbe, 

Hi^ve  gain'd  %  paltry  grizett* ; 

Shall  we,  of  sense  r^n'd. 

Your  trifling  nonseqse  hear. 
As  noisy  as  the  wind, 

Asemptyasthe'air? 

We  hate  your  eimpty  pratUe ; 

And  vow  and  sw^  'tis  tro4»> 
There  's  more  in  one  ciMUl'f  catU^ 

Than  twenty  fops  like  yp^ 


THE  BE4V'S  VJffLY 

TO  TBI 

fpm  iJkDW^  ANSWl^ 

yfvu  tJflflf  iJOWf.  dapper  Jilack ; 
•    IsmcU  your  gown  and  cas8C((^ 

»  Dr.  SberidaB  WM  a  ichool-iMster. 


SWIFTS  POBIfai. 


As  strong  updQ  yowr  hack^ 

As  TisdaU  A  smells  of  a'sofdu 
To  write  inch  scurvy  stuff! 

Fine  ladies  never  do  *t ; 
I  know  you  well  enough^ 

And  el^e  your  cloven  foot. 
Fine  ladies,  when  they  write. 

Nor  scold,  nor  keep  a  sphitte^  ; 
Their  verses  give  delight. 

As  soft  ^  9weet  as  butter. 

But  Satan  never  saw 

Such  haggard  lines  as  theses 
They  stick  athwart  n^  maw. 

As  bad  as  Suf(41^-<il>6^>^ 


THE  JOURNAL 

OP  A   MOnBRV   lU^DT. 


IK  4  Lvrm  TO  A  raasoM  pf  auAinr.    Vl^ 

8ia, 

It  was  a  iqost  v^^rWodly  pari 
In  you,  who  ought  to  know  my  heart. 
Are  well  acauamted  with  my  zeajl 
Fori^  the  fondle  comifponveat-^ 
How  could  &  come  into  your  mtn4     > 
To  pitch  on  me,  of  all  mankind, 
Aganist  the  sex  to  writ^  a  satire. 
And  brandflp^forawoiman-hater? 
On  me,  who  think  them  all  so  tot 
They  rival  Tonus  to  a  hair ; 
Their  virtues  never  ceas'd  tn  «ing» 
Since  first  I  leam'd  to  tune  a  string } 
Methinks  1  hear  the  kdies  cry. 
Will  he  his  diameter  belie  I 
Must  never  our  misfortunes  end  i 
And  b^vewe  lost  our  only  ftiend  2 
Ah,  lovely  nymphs,  remove  your  foacv 
No  more  let  (all  those  precious  tears. 
Sooner  shall,  &c. 

[liere  are  several  v€ne$omMii«iL\ 
The  hound  be  hunted  by  the  hare. 
Than  1  turn  rebel  to  the  fiiir.     ^ 

Twas  you  engag'd  pie  fiv^tio  write, 
llien  gave  the  subject  oi^t  of  spite : 
Thejcnntalqfa  modern  dame 
Is  by  my  promise  what  you  claim,. 
My  woid  is  past,  I  most  submit ; 
And  yet,  perhaps,  you  may  be  bit. 
I  but  transcribe;  for  not  a  Une 
Of  all  the  satire  shall  be  min^ 
Compell'd  by  you  to  ta^  In  rbymei^ 
The  common  slanders  of  the  times. 
Of  modem  tmrn,  tiie  guilt  is  yours. 
And  me  my  innocence  secures. 
Unwilling  Muse,  begin  thy  lay. 
The  annals  of  a  fonude  ds^. 

By  nature,  tnrn'd  to  play  th^  ralce  wel^ 
(As  we  shall  show  yon  tn  the  sequel) 
The  modem  dame  isVak'd  by  noon 
(Soo^  authors  say,  notqoite  so  soon) 
Because,  though  sore  against  her  wiU^ 
She  sate  all  night  up  at  qnadriUe. 

>  A  clergyman  in  the  Nottii  of  iraknd,  «Im>  ksi 
made  prop«mls  of  muQage  to  SteUik 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  Lam's  JOURNAL. 


m 


She  BtifUdhM,  gapet»  unglues  ber  «yes» 
And  asksifitbe  time  to  rise; 
Of  bead-ach  and  the  spleen  complains ; 
And  then,  to  cool  her  heated  brams. 
Her  night-goim  and  ber  slippers  brought  ber^ 
Takes  a  large  dram  of  citron-water. 
Then  to  ber  glass  ;  and,  "  Betty,  praf 
Don't  I  look  frightfully  to  day  ? 
But  was  it  not  confounded  hard  ? 
Well,  if  I  ever  touch  a  card  ! 
Four  matiadoret,  and  lose  codilUi 
Depend  upon  %  I  never  wiU. 
But  run  to-Tom,  and  bid  him  fix 
The  ladies  here  to-night  by  six.'' 
'*  Madam,  the  goldsmith  waits  betew ;  ** 
He  says,  **  His  business  is  to  know 
If  you  '11  redeem  the  silver  cup 
He  keeps  in  pawn  ?'♦— "  First,  show  him  up.* 
**  Your  dressing-plate  he  '11  be  content 
To  take,  for  interest  cent,  fer  cenU 
And  li^adam,  there  's  my  lady  Spade, 
Hath  sent  this  letter  by  her  maid." 
'*  Well,  I  remember  what  she  won; 
And  hath  she  sent  so  soon  to  dun  ? 
Heie,  carry  down  those  ten  pistoles. 
My  husband  left  to  pay  for  coals : 
I  thaak  mystars,  they  all  are  light  g 
And  I  may  have  revenge  to-night" 
Kow,  loitering  o>r  her  tea  and  cream, 
fibe  enters  on  her  usual  theme ; 
Her  last  night's  ill  success  repots, 
Calls  lady  Spade  a  hundred  cheats ; 
«*  She  slipt  spadiilo  in  ber  breast. 
Then  thoiught  to  turn  it  to  a  jest : 
There  's  Mrs.  Cut  and  she  cotnbine. 
And  to  each  other  give  the  sign." 
Through  every  game  pursues  her  tal^. 
Like,  banters  o'er  their  evening  ale. 
Now  to  another  scene  give  place : 
Enter  the  folks  with  silks  and  lace : 
Fresh  nsatter  for  a  world  of  ehat. 
Right  Indian  this,  right  Mechlin  that : 
"  Observe  this  pattern ;  there  's  a  stuffy 
I  can  have  customers  enough. 
Dear  madam,  you  are  grown  so  hard-^ 
This  lace  is  worth  twelve  pounds  a  yard  : 
Madam,  if  there  be  truth  in  man, 
I  never  sold  so  cheap  a  £su«" 
This  business  of  importanite  o'er, 
And  madam  almost  dress'd  by  four  ; 
The  footasan,  in  his  iistial  phrase, 
Comes  up  with,  "  Madam,  dinner  stays,'* 
She  answers  in  her  usual  style, 
"  The  cook  must  keep  it  back  awhile  s 
I  never  can  have  time  to  dress 
No  woman  breathing  takes  up  less)  j 
I  'm  hurried  so  it  makes  me  sick  j 
I  wish  the  dinner  at  Old  Nick." 
At  table  now  she  acts  her  part, 
Has  all  the  dinner-cant  by  heart : 
"  I  thought  we  were  to  dine  akne. 
My  dear ;  for  sure,  if  I  had  known 
Thb  company  would  come  to  day'-^ 
But  really  'tis  my  spouse's  way  1 
He 's  10  unkind,  he  never  sends 
To  tell  when  he  inyites  his  friends  s 
I  wish  ye  may  but  have  enough  I" 
A«d  whale  witli  all  this  paltry  stuff 
She  sits  toi:iBenti|if  every  guest, 
Vm  giToi  bar  toi^  one  momeat'f  itsty 


In  phrases  batter'd,  stale,  asd  trite. 
Which  modem  ladies  call  polite  ; 
You  seethe  booby  husband  sit 
In  admiration  at  her  wit« 

But  let  me  now  awhile  survey 
Our  osadam  o'er  her  evening-tea; 
Surrotmded  with  her  noisy  clans 
Of  prudes,  coquettes,  and  harridans  ; 
When,  frigbtea  at  the  clamorous  crei^ 
Away  the  god  of  Silence  4ew, 
And  fair  Discretion  Idt  the  place. 
And  Modesty  with  blushing  face^ 
Now  enters  overweenbg  Pride, 
And  Scandal  ever  gapmg  wide^ 
Hypocrisy  with  frown  severe. 
Scurrility  widi  gibmg  air; 
Rude  Laughter  seeming  like  to  bwrSt, 
And  Malice  always  judging  worst; 
And  Vanity  with  packet-glass. 
And  Impudence  with  front  of  brass  $ 
And  sttidy^d  Affectation  came. 
Each  limb  and  feature  out  of  frame  ; 
While  Ignorance,  witb4>rain  of  lead. 
Flew  hovering  o'er«ach  female  head. 

Why  should  I  ask  of  thee,  my  Mus^ 
An  hundred  tongues,  as  poets  use. 
When,  to  give  .every  dame  her  due, 
An  bnndred  thousand  were  too  femi 
Or  how  shaU  J,  alas,  relate 
The  sum  of  all  their  senseless  prate. 
Their  innnendos,  hints,  and  slanders. 
Their  meanings  lewd,  and  double  entem)ras? 
Now  comes  the  general  scandal-charge^; 
What  some  invent,  the  rest  enlarge  ; 
And,  "  Madam,  if  it  be  a  lie. 
You  have  the  tale  as  cheap  as  I : 
I  must  conceal  my  author^s  name; 
But  now  'tis  known  to  common  fame.* 

Say,  foolish  females,  bold  and  blind. 
Say,  by  wliat  fiital  turn  of  mind. 
Are  you  on  vices  most  severe. 
Wherein  yourselves  have  greatest  share  } 
Thus  every  fool  herself  deludes ; 
The  prudes  condemn  the  absent  prudes: 
Mopsa,  who  stinks  her  spoose  to  death. 
Accuses  Chloe's  tainted  breath  ; 
Hircina,  rank  with  sweat,  presumes 
To  censure  PhyUis  for  perfumes; 
While  crooked  Cynthia,  sneering^  sayi 
That  Flonmel  wears  iron  stays : 
Chloe.  of  every  coxcomb  jealous. 
Admires  how  giris  can  talk  with  fellows; 
And,  full  of  indignation,  frets. 
That  women  should  be  such  coquettes : 
Iris,  for  scandal  most  notoiious. 
Cries,  "  Loixl,  the  world  is  so  censorious  i^ 
And  Rufs,  with  her  combs  of  lead. 
Whispers  that  Sappho's  hair  is  red  : 
Aura,  whose  tongue  you  hear  a  mile  hcnee^ 
Talks  half  a  day  in  praise  of  silence : 
And  Sylvia,  full  of  inward  guilt. 
Calls  Amoret  an  arrant  jilt. 

Now  voices  over  voices  rise. 
While  each  to  be  the  loudest  vies  t 
They  contr^idict,  aflinn,  dispute. 
No  single  tongue  one  moment  mute ; 
All  mad  to  speak,  and  Dooe  to  hearken. 
They  set  the  very  lap-dog  ^kingj 
Their  chattering  makes  a  louder  d^n 
Tbaa  fiah-vnrtt  o'iriv  cap  of  gin : 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


46s 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Not  schonUboys  at  a  barring-oat 
Raised  ever  such  incessant  rout  • 
The  jumbling  particles  of  matter 
In  chaos  made  not  such  a  clatter ; 
Far  less  tlie  rabble  roar  and  rail, 
When  drunk  with  sour  el«'ction'alc. 

Nor  do  they  trurt  their  tongues  alone. 
But  speak  a  langnage  of  their  own  ; 
Can  read  a  nod,  a  sbru^  a  look. 
Far  better  than  a  printed  book ; 
Convey  a  libel  in  a  frown, 
And  wink  a  reputation  down  \ 
Or,  by  the  tossing  of  the  fen, 
Describe  the  lady  and  the  man. 

But  see,  the  female  club  disbands, 
Fach  twenty  visits  on  her  hands. 
Now  all  alone  poor  madam  sits 
In  vapours  and  hysteric  fits: 
*'  And  was  no^  Tom  this  morning  sent  ? 
I  *d  lay  my  life  he  never  went : 
Past  six,  and  not  a  living  soul ! 
I  might  by  tliU  have  won  a  vole." 
A  dreadful  interval  of  spleen  ! 
How  shall  we  pass  the  time  between  ? 
**  Here,  Betty,  let  me  take  my  drops  ; 
And  feel  my  pulse,  1  know  it  stops : 
This  head  of  mine,  lord,  how  it  swims ' 
^nd  such  a  pain  in  all  my  limbs !" 
"  Dear  madam,  try  tatake  a  nap."—* 
But  now  they  hear  a  footman's  rap : 
**  Go,  run,  and  light  the  ladies  up : 
It  must  be  one  befiire  we  sup^*' 

The  table,  cards,  and  counters,  set. 
And  all  the  gamester-ladies  met, 
Her  spleen  and  fits  recover'd  quite, 
Oin*  madam  can  sft  up  all  night : 
"  Whoever  comes,  I  *m  not  withhL"— 
Qoadrille  's  the  word,  and  so  begin. 

How  can  the  Muse  her  aid  impart, 
Unskill'd  in  all  the  terms  of  art  ? 
Or  in  harmonious  numbers  put 
The  deal,  the  shuflBe,  and  the  cut  ? 
The  superstitious  whhns  relate, 
That  fill  a  female  gamester's  pate  I 
What  agony  of  soul  she  feels 
To  see  a  knave's  inverted  heels  ! 
She  draws  up  card  by  card,  to  find 
Good  fortune  peeping  from  behind  5 
With  panting  heart,  and  earnest  cye^ 
In  hope  to  see  spadiUo  rise : 
In  vain,  alas !  her  hope  is  fed ; 
She  draws  an  ace,  arid  sees  it  red ; 
In  ready  counters  never  pays, 
But  pawns  her  snuff-box,  rings,  and  key»; 
Ever  with  some  new  fancy  struck. 
Tries  twenty  charms  to  mend  her  luck. 
**  This  morning,  when  the  parson  came, 
I  tiud  I  should  not  win  a  game. 
This  odious  chair,  how  came  I  stuck  in  H  t 
I  think  I  never  had  good  luck  in  *U 
I  'm  so  uneasy  in  my  stays ; 
Your  fen  a  moment,  if  you  please. 
Stand  further,  girl,  or  get  you  gonej 
I  always  lose  when  you  look  On." 
''Lord  !  madam,  yon  have  lost  codtllt  ? 
I  never  saw  you  play  so  ill.»» 
"  Nay,  madam,  give  me  leave  to  «y, 
«Twat  yott  that  threw  the  game  away : 


When  lady  Tnokscy  play'd  a  Rmr, 

Yon  took  it  with  a  maitaddte ; 

I  saw  you  touch  your  weddmg-ring 

Before  my  lady  calf  d  a  kin? ; 

You  spoke  a  word  began  with  H, 

And  1  know  whom  you  rteant  to  teach. 

Because  yod  hdd  the  king  pf  hearts ; 

Fie,  madam,  leave  these  Kttle  arts." 

"  That 's  not  so  bad  as  one  that  nihs 

Her  chair,  to  call  the  king  of  dabs  j 

And  makes  her  partner  understand 

A  maVadore  is  in  her  hand.'' 

"  Madam,  you  hare  no  cause  ixi  floonne, 

I  swear  I  saw  you  thrice  renounce." 

"  And  tmlv,  madam,  I  know  when. 

Instead  of  five,  you  scor'd  me  ten. 

Sp,tdillo  here  has  got  a  mark ; 

A  child  may  know  it  in  the  dark  : 

I  guest  the  hand :  it  seldom  fails : 

I  wish  some  folks  would  pare  their  nails." 

While  thus  they  rail,  and  scold,  and  storw. 
It  passes  but  for  conmion  form  : 
But,  conscious  that  they  all  speak  true. 
And  give  each  other  but  their  due. 
It  never  interrupts  the  game, 
Or  makes  them  sensible  of  shame. 

The  time  too  precions  now  to  waste, 
TTie  supper  gobbled  ap  in  haste  ; 
Again  afresh  to  cards  they  nm. 
As  if  they  had  but  just  begnn. 
But  I  shall  not  again  repeat. 
How  ofl  they  squabble,  snarl,  and  cheat* 
At  last  they  hear  the  watchman  knock, 
"  A  frosty  room— past  four  o'clock." 
The  chairmen  are  not  to  be  found, 
"  Come,  let  us  play  the  other  rwwd.* 

Now  all  in  haste  they  hnddle  on 
Their  hoods,  their  cloaks,  and  get  them  gonei 
But,  first,  the  whiner  must  invite 
The  company  to  morrow  night. 

Unlucky  madam,  left  in  tears 
(Who  now  again  quadrille  Ibrswears), 
With  empty  purse,  and  aching  hcad^ 
Steads  to  her  sleep'mg  ^wuse  to  bed. 


A  DIALOOUB 

BBTWBSK 

MAD  MULLINIX  >  AND  TIMOTHY. 

1728* 

M.  I  ewK,  *tis  not  my  bread  and  butter; 

But  prythee,  Tim,  why  all  this  clutter  ? 

Why  ever  in  these  raging  fits. 

Damning  to  hell  the  Jaoobites  ? 

When,  if  you  search  the  kingdom  roimd^ 

There  »s  haidly  twenty  to  be  found  j 

No,  not  among  the  pnesU  BxtAfnars-^ 
T.  Twixt  you  and  me,  G —  d— ntbe  liaiU 
M,  The  Tories  are  gone  every  man  over 

To  our  illustrious  house  ol  Hanover  ^ 

Fnmi  all  their  coadnct  this,  is  plain  ; 

And  then— 
T,  Q.  d— n  the  lian  a^^  * 

>  A  fictitioat  name.    See  the  hMtff  «f  Hi* 
foem  ia  Qm  InteUifepoer^  Va  Tiii.    N. 


DigitizBd  by  VjOOQ IC 


A  DIALOGUE. 


469 


tMd  not  An  earl  but  Ulety  vote,  ^ 
Te  bring  in  (I  could  cut  bb  throat) 
Our  whole  accounts  of  public  debts  ? 

M.  Lord?  boir  this  frothy  coxcomb  ftets!  [asides} 

T.  Did  not  an  able  statesman  bitbop 
This  dangerous  horrid  motion  dish-up 
A* popish  craft?  did  he  not  rail  on  *t  ? 
Show  fire  and  iiiggot  in  the  tail  on  't  ? 
Proving  the  earl  a  grand  offender, 
And  hi  a  plot  for  the  pretender;  . 
'Whose  fleet,  tts  all  ovir  friends'  opinion. 
Was  then  embarking  at  Avignon  ? 

[A  few  dull  limet  are  here pyrposelif  omtied,] 

M.  These  wrangling  jars  of  whig  and  Tory 
Are  stale  and  worn  as  Troy-town  story  : 
The  wrong,  'tn  certain,  you  were  both  in. 
And  now  you  find  you  fought  for  nothing* 
Your  faction,  wlien  their  game  was  new. 
Might  want  such  noisy  fuols  as  you ; 
But  yon,  when  all  the  show  is  past, 
Rcsoire  to  stand  it  out  the  last ; 
Like  Martin  Marrall  ^  gaping  on. 
Not  minding  when  the  song  is  dooe. 
When  all  the  Bees  are  gone  to  settle, 
You  clatter  stilV  your  bnusen  kettle. 
The  leaders  whom  you  listed  under 
Havedropt  their  arms,  and  seized  the  plunder; 
And  when  the  war  is  past,  you  come 
To  rattle  in  their  ears  your  drum  : 
And  as  that  hateful  hideous  Grecian 
Tbersites  (he  w»t  yoor  relation) 
Was  more  abborr'd  and  scorn'd  by  tboat 
With  whom  be  serv'd,  than  by  bis  foes; 
So  thou  art  grown  the  detestation 
Of  all  thy  party  through  the  nation : 
Thy  peevish  and  p^petual  teasing 
With  plots,  and  Jacobites,  and  treason. 
Thy  busy,  never-meaning  face. 
Thy  screw'd-up  front,  thy  state^grimaoe. 
Thy  formal  nods,  important  sneers. 
Thy  whiq>erings  foisted  in  all  ears 
(Which  are,  whatever  you  may  think, 
But  nonsense  wrapt  np  in  a  stink). 
Have  made  thy  pretence,  in  a  true  seAse, 
To  thy  own  side  so  d — ^n'd  a  nuisance. 
That,  when  they  have  you  in  their  eye, 
As  if  the  devil  drove,  they  fly. 

T.  My  good  friend  MuUmix,  forbear; 
I  vow  to  G — ,  you  »re  too  severe. 
If  it  could  ever  yet  be  known  v 

1  took  advk»,  except  my  own. 
It  should  be  yours :  but,  d— n  my  blood  I 
I  must  pursue  the  public  good.* 
The  faction  (is  it  not  notorious  ?) 
Keck  at  the  memory  of  Glorious  3 : 
Tis  trae ;  nor  need  I  to  be  told. 
My  quondam  friends  are  grown  lo  cold. 
That  tcaroe  a  creature  can  be  found 
To  prance  with  me  the  statoe  round. 
The  public  »fiety  1  foresee, 
Henoef^fth  depMida  alone  on  me ; 
And  while  this  vital  breath  1  blow. 
Or  from  above,  or  from  beknr, 
1 11  sputter,  airaatr,  curse,'and  rail. 
The  Tories'  terrour,  acouige,  and  flaU. 

M.  Tim,  you  mistake  the  inatter  quite : 
TbeTm^!  yon  are  their  rfe^gA/; 

>  A  character  in  out  qf  Drjden's  oooMdiML 
aU^WUhMiJU. 


And  should  yon  act  a  different  part. 

Be  grave  and  wise,  'twould  break  their  heart. 

Why,  Tim,  you  have  a  taste  1  know. 

And  often  see  a  puppet-show  : 

Observe,  the  audience  is  in  pain, 

While  Punch  is  hid  b< hind  tlie  scene; 

But,  when  they  hear  bis  rusty  voice, 

With  what  impatience  they  rejoice  ! 

And  then  they  value  not  two  straws. 

How  Solomon  decides  the  cause. 

Which  the  true  mother,  which  pretender ; 

Nor  listen  to  the  witch  of  Endor. 

Should  Faustus,  with  the  devil  behind  himt 

Enter  the  stage,  they  never  mind  hib : 

If  Punch,  to  stir  their  &ncy,  shows 

In  at  the  door  bis  monsti-ous  nose. 

Then  sudden  draws  it  back  again  ; 

0  what  a  pleasure  mixt  with  pain  ! 
You  every  moment  think  an  age. 
Till  he  appears  upon  the  stage : 
And  first  his  bom  vou  see  him  clap 
Upon  the  queen  of  Sbeba's  lap : 

The  duke  of  Lorraine  drew  his  sword ; 
Punch  roaring  ran,  and  running  roar'd. 
Reviles  all  people  in  his  jargon. 
And  selh  the  king  of  Spain  a  bargahi ; 
St  George  himself  he  plays  the  wag  on^ 
And  mounts  astride  upon  the  dragon ; 
He  gets  a  thousand  thumps  and  kicks. 
Yet  cannot  leave  his  roguish  tricks; 
In  every  action  thrusts  his  nose ; 
The  reason  why,  no  mortal  knows : 
In  doleful  scenes  that  break  our  heart. 
Punch  comes,  like  you,  and  lets  a  fart. 
There  's  not  a  puppet  made  of  wood. 
But  what  would  hang  hiro,  if  they  could  ; 
While,  teasing  all,  by  all  he  's  tcasM, 
How  well  are  the  spectators  pleas'd ! 
W'ho  in  the  motion  have  no  share. 
But  purely  come  to  bear  and  stare  ; 
Have  no  concern  for  Sabra's  sake. 
Which  gets  the  better,  saint  or  snake. 
Provided  Punch  (for  there  's  the  jest) 
Be  soundly  mauPd,  and  plague  the  rest. 

Thus,  Tim,  philoeopheis  suppose. 
The  world  consists  of  puppet  shows  | 
'  Where  petulant  conceited  fellows 
Perform  the  pert  of  Punchinelk)e8 : 
So  at  this  booth,  which  we  call  Dublin, 
Thn,  thou  'rt  the  Punch  to  stir  up  trouble  hi| 
You  riggle,  fidge,  and  make  a  rout. 
Put  all  your  brother  puppets  ont; 
Run  on  in  a  perpetuaj  round. 
To  tease,  perplex,  disturb,  confound ; 
Intrude  with  monkey-grin  and  clatter. 
To  interrupt  all  serious  matter  ; 
Are  grown  the  nuisance  of  yomr  elan^ 
Who  hate  and  scorn  3rou  to  a  man : 
But  then  the  lookers-on,  the  Tories, 
You  still  divert  with  merry  stories  ; 
They  would  consent  that  all  the  di^ew 
Were  haAg'd,  before  they  »d  part  with  you. 

But  tell  me,  Tim,  upon  the  spot. 
By  all  this  toil  what  hast  thou  got  > 
If  Tories  most  have  all  the  sport, 

1  fear  yon  'U  be  disgrae'd  at  court, 

T.  Go<f  1>— n  my  blood !  I  frank  m§  letUr 
Walk  to  my  place  before  my  betters; 
And,  simple  a«  I  now  stand  here. 
Expect  in  tioM  to  be  a  potr-« 


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470 


swirrs  tomsL 


Got  f  D— n  me !  why  I  got  my  will ! 

Ne'er  bold  my  peace,  nor  ne'er  stand  still : 

I  fort  with  twenty  ladies  by  ; 

They  call  me  beast ;  ai<d  what  care  I  ? 

I  bravely  call  the  Tories,  Jacks, 

And  sons  of  whores— behind  their  backs. 

Bot^  coold  you  bring  me  once  to  think. 

That,  when  I  stmt,  and  stare,  and  stink,- 

Kerile  and  slander,  fume  and  storm. 

Betray,  make  oath,  impeaeh,  inform, 

"With  such  a  constant  loyal  zeal 

Te  senre  myself  and  commonweal. 

And  fret  the  Tories'  soul  to  death, 

I  did  but  lose  my  precious  breath ; 

And,  when  I  damn  my  soul  to  plague  'em, 

Am,  as  yAu-  may  tell  me,  but  their  may-game  ^ 

Consume  my  vitals  !  they  shall  know, 

I  am  not  to  be  treated  so : 

I  'd  rather  hang  myself  l^  half. 

Than  give  those  rascals  cause  to  taugfa.^ 

But  how,  my  friend,  can  I  endure. 
Once  so  renown'd,  to  five  obscure  ? 
No  little  boys  and  girls  to  cry, 
**  There  's  m*bable  Tim  a-passing  by  ?** 
No  more  my  dear  dellgbtful  way  tread 
Of  keepmg  up  a  party  hatred  f 
Will  none  the  Tory  dogt  pursue. 
When  through  the  streets  I  cry  halloe  9 
Must  all  my  d — ^n  me's !  bloods  and  wounds ! 
Pass  only  now  for  empty  sounds  } 
Shall  Tory  rascals  be  elected. 
Although  I  swear  them  disaffected  ? 

And,  when  I  roar,  "  A  plot,  a  plot !'' 
Will  our  own  party  mind  me  not  ? 
So  qualify'd  to  swear  and  lie, 

Will  they  not  trust  me  foe  a  «^  f 
Dear  Mullinix,  your  good  advice 

I  beg;  you  see  the  case  is  nice : 

Oh  fwere  I  eoual  in  renown, 

like  thee  to  please  this  thankless  town  f 

Or  bless'd  with  such  engaging  parts 

To  win  the  truant  school-boys'  hearts  ! 

Thy  virtues  meet  their  just  reward. 

Attended  by  the  table  guards 

Charm'd  by  thy  voice,  the  'prentice  drops 

The  snow-ball  destln'd  at  thy  chops : 

Thy  graceful  steps,  and  colonel's  air. 

Allure  the  cinder-pickiog  fair. 

M.  No  more — in  mark  of  true  affection, 

1  take  theef  under  my  protection : 

Your  parts  are  good,  'tis  not  deny'd  : 

I  wish  they  had  been  well  apply'd. 

But  npw  observe  my  council,  {xu2.J 

Adapt  your  habit  to  your  phiz  ; 

You  must  no  fonger  thus  equip  ye. 

As  Horace  sajrs,  optat  tphippia ; 

(There  's  Latin'too,  that  yoo  may  see 

How  much  improv'd  by  Dr.        ■      ). 

I  have  a  coat  at  home,  that  you  may  try  5 

Tis  just  like  this,  that  hangs  by  geometiy. 

My  bat  has  much  the  nicer  air; 

Your  block  will  fit  it  to  a  hair. 

That  wig,  I  would  not  for  the  world 

Have  it  so  formal,  and  so  curKd  ; 

*Twill  be  so  oily  and  so  sleek. 

When  I  have  lain  in  it  a  wedc 
Yoii  '11  find  it  well  prepared  to  take 
The  figure  of  toupee  and  snake. 
Thus  dress'd  alike  firoqi  top  to  toe, 
That  which  is  which  'tis  hard  to  know; 


When  first  in  public  we  tppaif; 
I  'II  lead  the  van,  you  keep  the  rmti 
Be  careful,  as  you  walk  behind  $ 
Use  all  the  talents  of  your  mind; 
Be  studious  well  to  imitate 
My  portly  DMitioo,  mien,  and  gait; 
Mark  my  address,  and  learn  my  style 
When  to  look  scornful,  when  to  smUe  ^ 
Nor  sputter  out  yoor  oaths  so  Ihst, 
Bat  keep  your  swearing  to  the  last 
Then  at  our  leisure  we  II  be  witty. 
And  in  the  streets  divert  the  dty ; 
The  ladies  fhxn  the  windows  gaping. 
The  chtMren  alhour  motions  aping; 
Your  conversation  to  refine, 
I  '11  take  you  to  some  friends  of  mfaie^ 
Choice  spiritt,  who  employ  their  paits 
To  mend  the  world  by  useful  arts  ; 
Some  cleansing  hollow  tubes,  to  spy 
Direct  the  zenith  of  the  sky  ; 
Some  have  the  city  in  their  care. 
From  noxiovs  steams  to*  purge  the  air  f 
Some  teach  us  in  these  dangerous  day» 
How  to  walk  upright  in  our  ways ; 
Some  whose  reforming  hands  engagw 
To  lash  the  lewdness  of  the  age  ^ 
Some  for  the  public  service  gt> 
Perpetual  envoys  to  and  fro. 
Whose  able  heads  support  the  w^gMr 
Of  twenty  ministers  of  state. 
We  scorn,  for  want  of  talk,  to  jabber 
Of  parties  o'er  our  bwntf-clahhtr : 
Nor  are  we  stodioos  to  inquire. 
Who  votes  for  manors,  who  for  hire  r 
Our  care  is,  to  improve  the  mind 
With  what  eoncems  all  hmnan-kimi  f 
The  various  scenes  of  mortal  lile ; 
Who  beats  her  husband,  who  his  "wife; 
Or  how  the  bully  at  a  stroke 
Knock'd  down  the  boy»  the  lantern  brokcw 
One  teHs  the  rise  of  cheese  and  oatmeal  ^ 
Another  when  be  got  a  hot  meaf; 
One  gives  advice  in  proverbs  oM, 
Instructs  us  how  to  tame  a  seoM  ; 
One  shows  how  bravely  Audodn  dy'<^ 
And  at  the  gallows  all  deny'd  ; 
How  by  the  almanac  tis  dear. 
That  herrings  will  h€  cheap  this  year. 

T.  i^ar  MulKnix  I  now  laoient 
My  precious  time  so  long  mis-speii^ 
By  nature  meant  for  nobler  ends : 
Oh,  introduce  me  ta  your  friends  ! 
For  whom  by  birth  I  was  design'd,. 
Till  politics  debas'd  my  mind  .* 
I  give  myself  entire  to  yon ; 
G— d— aihe  Whigs  and  Tories  too  >t  >^ 


TIMt  Aim  THE  FABLEM. 

My  meaning  will  be  hetl  unrawePd, 
When  Ipremite  thai  Tim  hat  irms^tL 
In  Lucas's  by  chance  there  lay 
The  fhblei  writ  by  Mr.  Qmy. 

1  Sea  an  acooiiiit  of  luni  in  tbt  htelKfiawr 
NO.X,- 


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^M  AND  DICE. 


*r* 


Head  over  here  ud  there  a  &b]e; 

And  fooiid,  as  he  the  pages  twiri'd. 

The  monkey  who  had  seen  the  world  t 

(For  Tooson  had.  to  help  the  sale. 

Prefixed  a  cut  to  every  tale.) 

The  monkey  was  completely  drest» 

The  beau  in  all  his  airs  ezprest 

TStti,  with  sorprisfc  and  pleasare  staring^ 

Ran  to  the  glass,  And  then  comparing 

His  own  sweet  figure  with  the  print, 

Distingaish'd  every  feature  in  % 

The  twist,  the  squeeze,  the  ruoip,  the  fidge  in  all> 

Just  as  they  looked  m  the  origmal, 

*'  By-^,»  says  Tim,  and  let  a  fort, 

**  Tliis  graver  understood  bis  art. 

TSs  a  true  copy,  I  *11  say  that  for  *t ) 

I  well  remember  when  I  sAt  for  t. 

Hy  very  fiioe,  as  first  I  kn^  it; 

Jost  in  this  dress  the-painter  drew  it" 

Tim,  with  his  likeness  deeply  smitten. 

Would  read  what  underneath  ina  written^ 

The  merry  tale,  with  moral  grave. 

He  now  began  to  storm  and  rave  : 

**  The  cursed  Tilliun  I  now  I  see 

This  was  a  libel  meant  at  me : 

These  scrSiUers  grow  so  bold  of  latA 

Against  us  mmisters  of  state  ! 

Sooh  Jacobites  as  he  deserve— 

I>m^n  me  1 1  say,  they  ought  to  starve«" 


TOM  MVLUmX  AJfD  DICK. 

Tom  and  Dick  had  equal  fame. 
And  both  had  equal  knowledge  ; 

Tom  oonld  write  and  spell  his  name. 
But  Dick  had  seew  the  coRege. 

Dick  a  coxcomb,  Tom  was  mad, 

And  both  alike  diverting ; 
Tom  was  held  the  merrier  lad. 

But  Dick  the  best  at  fortingw 

Dick  would  cock  his  nosf^  in  scorn. 
But  Tom  wsis  kind  and  loving  ^ 

Tom  a  foot-boy  bred  and  bom. 
Bat  Dick  was  from  an  oven. 

Dick  could  neatly  dance  a  jig^ 

But  Tom  was  best  at  borecs  ; 
Tom  would  pray  for  every  Whig, 

And  Dick  curse  all  the  Tories. 

Dick  would  make  a  woeful  noise. 

And  scold  at  an  election  ! 
Tom  buzza'd  the  blackfiruard  boys. 

And  held- them  in  sab)ection. 

Tom  could  more  with  lordly  grace, 

Dick  nimbly  skipt  the  gutter ; 
Tom  could  talk  with  solemn  face. 

But  Dick  could  better  sputter. 


Dick  WW  come  to  high  i 

Smoe  he  oommencfd  poysiBiMi  ^ 
Tom  was  held  by  aU  tbe  tows 

The  deq^  politieiMi 

-Tom  had  the  geinseiei  s^iaig, 
Has  hat  could  nicely  put  enf 


Dick  knew  belter  how  to  swbg 
His  cane  upon  a  button* 

Dick  for  repartee  was  fit. 
And  Tom  for  deep  discerning  | 

Dick  was  thought  the  brighter  wit, 
But  Tom  had  better  learning. 

Dick  with  zealous  no*s  ftod  ay'i 
Could  roar  as  loud  as  9tentor, 

In  the  house  tis  all  he  sftys  ; 
But  Tom  b  eloquenten 


DICK.   A  MAQGOT. 

As  when,  fit>m  rooting  in  a  bin. 

All  powder'd  o'er  from  tail  to  chin# 

A  lively  maggot  sallies  out. 

You  know  him  by  his  hazel  snout : 

So  when  the  grandson  of  his  grandsire 

Forth  issues  wriggling,  Dick  Drawcansir^ 

With  powder'd  rump  and  back  and  sida^ 

You  caonot  blanch  his  tawny  hide  ; 

For  tis  beyond  the  power  of  meal 

The  gipsy  visage  to  conceal: 

For,  as  he  shakes  his  wainscot  dwps^ 

Down  every  mealy  atom  drops. 

And  leaves  the  tartar  phiz,  in  show 

Like  a  fresh  t— d  just  dropt  on  snow. 


CLAD  ALL  IN  BROWN, 

TO  DICK. 

lyiTATio  raoM  cowlbt* 

Foulest  brute  that  stinks  below. 
Why  in  this  brown  dost  thou  appear  \ 

For,  wouldst  thou  make  a  fouler  show. 
Thou  must  go  naked  all  the  year. 

Fresh  from  the  mud  a  wallowing  sow^ 

Would  then  be  not  so  brown  as  thou* 

Tis  not  the  coat  that  looks  so  dun. 

His  hide  emits  a  foulness  out ; 
Mot  one  jot  better  looks  the  Sun 
Seen  from  behind  a  dirty  clout: 
So  t— ds  within  a  glass  enclose, 
The  glass  will  seem  as  brown  as  those. 

Tboo  now  one  heap  of  foulness  art. 

All  outward  and  within  is  foul. 
Condensed  filth  in  every  part. 
Thy  body  's  cloathed  like  thy  soul ; 
Thy  soul,  whieh  through  thy  hide  of  buff 
Scarce  glimmers  like  a  dying  snuffl 

Old  carted  bawds  suoh  garments  wear. 

When  pelted  alT  with  dirt  tbey  shine  ; 
SMAi  their  exaHid  bodies  ate. 
As  shrivefd  and  as  black  as  fbiloth 
If  thou  wert  in  a  cart,  I  fear 
Thou  wouldst  be  pdtad  worse  than  tiiey  Vob 

Yet,  when  we  see  thee  thus  array'd. 

The  AeighboUTS  think  it  is  but  just. 
That  thou  shooldst  take  an  hooest  timdi^ 
And  weekly  carry  out  the  dust 
Of  cteanly  houses  who  will  doubt, 
Wfaea  Diokt  dies  ^  Dttit  to  oany  out  2>» 


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4Tt 


SWIFTS  tt)EM8. 


D/CJPS  VARtETV. 


t)ott  noiformity  in  fools 

I  hate,  who  gape  and  sneer  by  rules. 

You,  JVluliinix,  and  slobbering  C— , 

IVho  eveiy  day  and  hour  the  same  are  j 

That  vulgar  talent  I  despise 

Of  pissing  in  the  rabble's  eyes« 

And  when  I  listen  io  the  noise 

Of  ideots  roaring  tp  the  boj^s  ; 

To  better  judirinents  still  submitting^ 

J  own  I  see  but  littl^  wit  in : 

Such  past4m«3i  when  our  taste  is  nice. 

Can  please  at  most  but  once  pr  twicer 

But  then  consider  Dick,  you  *I1  find 
His  genius  of  superior  kind  i 
He  never  muddlea  in  the  dirt, 
Kor  icowers  the  street  without  a  shirt : 
Thoagh  Dick,  I  dare  presume  to  say, 
Cbold  do  such  feats  as  well  as  they. 
I>ick  I  coukl  venture  every  where. 
Let  the  boya  pelt  him  if  they  dare ; 
He  'd  have  them  try*d  at  the  assizca 
For  priests  and  Jesuits  in  disguises ; 
^ear  they  were  with  the  Swedes  at  Bender, 
And  listing  troops  ier  the  pretender. 

But  Dick  can  fart,  and  danee,  and  frisky- 
No  other  monkey  half  so  brink ; 
Now  has  the  speaker  by  the  ears. 
Next  moment  in  the  house  of  peers ; 
Now  scolding  at  my  lady  £usta«e. 
Or  thrashing  baby  in  her  new  stajrs.. 
Presto !  be  gone;  with  t'  other  bop 
He  's  powdering  in  a  barber's  shop  % 
Now  at  the  anti •chamber  thrusting 
His  ix»e  to  get  the  circle  just  in, 
And-d — ns  his  bipod,  that  in  the  rear 
He  sees  one  single  Tory  there : 
Then,  woe  be  to  my  lord  lieutenant, 
Agate  be  'U  tell  bim,  and  agam  onft 


Aff  EPITAPH 


GENERAL  GORGES »  AND  LADY  MEATH  «. 

UnDBa  this  stone  lie  Dicky  and  Dolly. 
Doll  dying  first,  Dick  grew  melancholy ; 
.^or  Dick  without  Doll  thought  living  a  folly. 
Dick  lost  in  Doll  a  wife  tender  and  dear : 
But  riick  lost  by  DoU  twelve  hundred  a  year ; 
A  loss  that  Dick  iboaght  no  mortal  could  bear. 

Dick  tighM  (or  his  Doll,  and  hit  mournful  arms 
Croat i  ' 
Thought  much  of  bis  Doll,  and  the  jointure  be  lost  t 
The  first  yex'd  him  much,  the  other  vex*d  most. 

Thus  loaded  with  grief,  Dick  sighM  and  he  cryVl* 
To  live  without  both  Adl  three  days  he  try'd  ; 
But  lik'dneither  loss,  and  so  quietly  dy*d. 

Dick  left  a  pattern  Urn  will  copy  after : 
Then,  reader,  pray  shed  some  tears  of  8alt>water.; 
For  so  sad  a  tale  is  no  subject  of  laughter. 

1  Of  Kilbrue,  hi  the  county  of  Meath.    JV. 

s  Dorothy  dowager  of  Edward  earl  of  Meath.  She 
was  married  totfte  general  in  1716 ;  and  died  April 
10,1788:  bar  husband  survhred  but  two  day*.    N. 


Meath  smiles  for  thejoilktufe,  thdnglf  gottea  i 

late; 
The  son  laughs,  that  got  the  hard-gotten  estale} 
And  Cufie  ^  grins,  ibr  getting  the  Alioaot  phite. 
Here  quiet  they  lie,  hi  hopes  to  rise  one  day. 
Both  solemnly  put  in  this  hole  on  a  Snndar, 
And  here  tfest— ^fic  iran$it  gioria  mundi! 


VERSES  ON  I  KNOW  NOT  WHAJi 

My  latest  tribute  here  I  send, 
With  this  let  your  collection  end. 
Thus  I  consign  you  down  to  fame 
A  character  to  praise  or  blame : 
And,  if  the  whole  may  pass  for  tme. 
Contented  rest,  you  have  your  due. 
Give  future  times  the  satisfieM^tioo, 
To  leave  one  handle  £Mr  d«trM^ion« 


DR.  sinrr's  complaent 

ON  HIS  OWN  DEAFNESS. 

WITH   AH  AHSWEI. 
DOCTOR. 

Dbap,  giddy,  helpless,  left  alone ; 

ANSWEB. 

Except  the  first,  the  &ult-'s  your  own, 

DOCTOa. 

To  all  my  friends  a  burthen  grownr 

ANSWBR. 

Because  to  few  you  will  be  skown» 
Give  them  good  wine,  and  meat  to  stui^ 
You  may  have  company  enough. 

DOCTOR. 

No  more  I  hear  my  church's  bell. 
Than  if  it  rang  oat  for  my  kneU. 

AKSWEB. 

Then  write  and  read,  'twill  do  as  welU 

DOCTOl. 

At  thunder  now  no  more  I  start. 
Than  at  the  rumbling  of  a  cart. 

ANSWBR. 

Think  then  of  thunder  when  you  &rt. 

DOCTOR. 

And,  what 's  incredible,  alack ! 
No  more  I  hear  a  woman's  clack. 

ANSWBR. 

A  woman's  clack,  if  I  have  skill. 
Sounds  somewhat  like  a  throwster's  mill ; 
But  k)uder  than  a  bell,  or  thnnder  ; 
That  does,  1  own,  increase  my  wonder. 


DR.  SH'IFT  TO  HIMSELF, 

on 

SAINT  CEaLIA'S  DAY. 

Gravb  dean  of  St  Patrick's,  how  comes  it  to  pass 
That  you,  who  know  music  no  more  than  an  ass. 
That  you,  who  so  lately  were  writing  of  Drapiers, 
Should  lend  your  cathedral  to  playenand  serapera? 
To  act  such  an  opera  ooce  m  a  jrear,- 
So  offinsive  to  eviery  true  pratestant  ear, 

^  John  Coflfeof  Desart,  ^.  muiied  the  geaerel't 
eldest  daughter.    N. 


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PADDY.  .  .  .  PARODY.  .  .  .  PAULUS. 


47» 


^ith  Vnmpt/tt,  and  fidget,  and  orgam,  andsmging. 
Will  lure  die  pretender  and  popery  bring  in. 
Ko  protestant  prelate,  his  loidship  or  grace, 
XHirtt  there  show  his  right  or  most  reverend  face : 
fiow  would  it  pollate  their  crosiers  and  rochets 
1*0  Itttea  tonmrims,  and  qnaters,  and  cnitohets  ! 
[The  reti  is  van/tag.] 


PADDY'S  CHARACTER 

OP  THE  INTELLIGENCER ». 

As  a  thorn-bush,  or  oaken-bongh^ 
Stock  in  an  Irish  cabin^s  brow. 
Above  the  door,  at  ooantry-fair, 
Betokens  enteriainment  there  ; 
9o  bags  on  poets'  brows  have  been 
Set,  for  a  sign  of  wit  within. 
And,  as  ill  neighbours  in  the  night 
PuU  down  an  ale-bouse  bush  for  spite: 
The  laurel  so,  by  poets  worn. 
Is  by  the  teeth  of  Envy  torn  ; 
Bnvy,  a  canker-worm,  which  ieart 
Those  sacred  leaves  that  Ughtning  spares. 

And  now  t*  exemplify  this  moral : 
Tom  having  eam*d  a  twig  of  laurel 
(Which,  measiir'd  on  his  head,  was  found 
Not  kNig  enough  to  reach  half  round. 
But,  like  a  girl*s  cockade,  was  tyM, 
A  trophy,  4m  his  temple-side) ; 
Paddy  repin'd  to  aee  him  wear 
This  badge  of  honour  in  his  hair ; 
And,  thinking  this  oockade  of  wit 
Wonki  his  own  temples  better  fit. 
Forming  his  Muse  by  SmedleyM  t  model. 
Lets  dnve  at  Tom's  devoted  noddle. 
Pelts  him  by  turns  with  verse  and  prose, 
Hums  like  an  boroet  at  hb  nose, 
At  length  presumes  to  vent  his  satire  on 
The  dean.  Tool's  lionour'd  friend  and  patron* 
The  eagle  in  the  tale,  ye  know, 
Teas*d  by  a  buzzing  wasp  below. 
Took  wing  to  Jove,  and  hop'd  to  rest 
Securely  in  the  thmiderer's  breast: 
In  vain ;  ev*n  there,  to  qxNl  his  nod, 
Th0  spii^ul  insect  stung  the  fgod. 


PARODY 


CHARACTER  OF  DEAN  SMEDLEY^, 

-WmiTTBM   IM   IJ^TIV  BY  HIMSELF. 

Tbb  vnry  reverend  dean  Smedley, 
Of  duUnessy  pride,  conceit,  a  medley, 

>  Dr.  Sheridan  was  publisher  of  the  Intelli? 
genoer,  a  weekly  paper,  written  principally  by  him- 
self |  but  Dr.  Swm  occasionally  supplied  him  with 
m  letter.  Dr.Delany,  piqued  at  the  approbation  thoae 
papers  received,  attacked  them  violently  both  in 
oonversatkni  and  print;  but  unfortunately  stumbled 
OQ  some  of  the  numbers  which  the  dean  had  written, 
and  all  the  work!  admired:  whksh  gave  rise  to  these 


*  Dean  of  Ferns.    See  next  {Mem.    N. 
'Hie  origmal  it  in  the  Supplement  to  ] 


Swift.   N. 


Was  equally  alfow'd  to  shine, 

As  poet,  scholar,  and  divine  ; 

With  godliness  could  well  dispense  ; 

Would  be  a  rake,  but  wanted  sense  ; 

Would  strictly  after  truth  inquire. 

Because  he  dreaded  to  come  nigh  her« 

For  liberty  no  champwn  bolder. 

He  bated  bmliffs  at  bis  shoulder. 

To  half  the  workl  a  standingjest ; 

A  perfect  natMace  to  the  rest; 

From  many  (and  we  may  believe  him) 

Had  the  b^  wishes  they  oould  give  hiin^ 

To  all  mankind  a  constant  ftiend. 

Provided  they  had  cask  to  lend. 

One  thing  he  dkl  before  he  went  hence. 

He  left  us  a  laeomc  sentence, 

By  cutting  of  his  phrase,  and  trimmmg, 

To  prove  that  bishops  were  old  women. 

Poor  Envy  durst  not  show  her  phiz. 

She  was  so  terrified  at  his. 

Ue  waded,  without  any  shame. 

Through  thkk  and  thin  to  get  a  name^ 

Tried  every  sharping  trick  for  bread. 

And  after  all  he  seldom  sped. 

When  fortune  favoured,  he  was  nice; 

He  never  once  would  cog  the  dice : 

But,  if  she  tum*d  against  his  play. 

He  knew  to  stop  d  quatre  troise. 

Now  sound  in  nund,  and  sound  in  corpus^ 

(Says  he)  though  swdt'd  like  any  porpoise. 

He  he3r8  from  hence  at  forty-four      ^ 

fBut  by  his  leave  he  sinks  a  score} 

To  the  East^Indies,  there  to  choEt, 

Tdl  he  can  pureb  ise  an  estate ; 

Where,  after  he  has  fiU'd  his  chest. 

He'll  mount  bis  tub,  and  preach  his  best 

And  plainly  prove,  by  dint  of  text. 

This  workl  is  his,  and  thein  the  next. 

Lest  that  the  readershould  not  know 

The  bank  wheire  last  he  set  his  toe, 

Twas  Greenwich.    There  he  took  a  ship^ 

And  gave  his  creditors  the  sUp. 

But  lest  chronolojn  shonid  vary. 

Upon  the  Ides  of  February ; 

In  seventeen  hundred  eight  and  twenty^ 

To  Fort  St.  Qeoige,  a  pedlar  went  he. 

Ye  Pates,  when  all  he  gets  is  spent, 

Rbtusm  him  bbgoas  as  at  wsmt  ! 


PAVLUS. 

BY    MR.     LIWOSAr  >. 

noBLiN,  SEPT.  7,  1728. 

"AsmvB  to  crowds,  sooroh*d  with  the  summer^ 

beats, 
In  courts  the  wretched  lawjrer  toils  and  sweats ; 
While  smiling  Nature  in  her  best  attire. 
Regales  each  sense,  and  vernal  joys  inspire. 
Can  he  who  knows  that  real  good  should  please. 
Barter  for  gq}d  his  liberty  and  ease  ?''-^ 
Thus  Panlus  preach'd:— When,  entering  at  the  door» 
Upon  his  board  the  client  pours  the  ore : 
He  grasps  the  shining  gtft,  pores  o'er  the  cause, 
Forgett  the  Sun,  and  doaeth  on  the  laws. 

1  Mr.  Lindsay,  a  polite  and  elegant  scboUr,  at 
that  time  an  elegant  pleader  in  Dublin,  aT^trwards 
.one  of  the  ji^tkes  of  the  court  of  coiximon-pleas.iV. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ IC  . 


4/r4 


swings  POEMS^ 


THE  AKSfTEIU 


BY  DK.   IWrTT. 


LfHDSAY  mistakes  the  matttr  qaoM, 
And  honest  PaiUus  j«dges  right 
Then,  why  these  quarrels  to  the  Sim, 
Without  whose  aid  you  're  all  undoM  ? 
Bid  Panlus  e'er  complain  of  sweat } 
.Did  Paulus  e*et  the  4un  forget ; 
The  influence  of  whoM  goMea  bfams 
Soon  licks  up  all  unaaTovry  steams } 
The  Sun,  you  say,  his  face  hath  kist'd  i 
It  has ;  hut  then  it  greas'd  hb  fisL 
Traelawyen,  for  t^  wisest  ends, 
BaTe  always  been  Apollo's  friends. 
Not  for  his  sopericial  powers 
Of  ripening  fraits,  and  gilding  flosren  ; 
Kot  for  inspiring  poets'  braina 
With  pennyless  and  starveling  strains; 
Kot  for  his  boasted  healing  art; 
Kot  for  his  skill  to  shoot  the  dart ; 
Kor  yet  because  he  sweetly  fiddles; 
Kor  for  his  prophecies  m  riddlesi 
But  for  a  more  substantial  cruise- 
Apollo's  patron  of  the  laws ; 
Whom  Paulus  ever  must  adore. 
As  parent  of  the  golden  ore. 
By  Phoebus,  an  meestoous  birtb, 
Begot  upon  bis  gnnd-dame  Earth  ; 
By  Phoebus  first  pioduc'd  to  light ; 
By  Vulcan  fonn'd  so  round  and  bright? 
Then  offi?r'd  at  the  shrine  of  jostioe. 
By  clients  to  her  priests  and  trustees* 
Kor,  when  we  see  Astnea  stand 
With  even  balance  in  her  band. 
Must  we  suppose  ^e  hath  in  view. 
How  to  give  every  roan  his  due ; 
Her  scales  you  see  her  only  hold, 
To  weigh  her  prierts,  the  lawyera  goM. 

Now,  sbeuid  I  own  3roar  case  was  gricvoa% 
Poor  sweaty  Paulus,  who  'd  beKeve  us  ? 
1^  very  true,  and  none  denies, 
At  least  that  such  complaints  are  wise : 
Tis  wise  no  doubt,  as  clients  fat  yoo  mors. 
To  cry,  like  stateMoen.  iiiMnia  patimur !    - 
But,  since  the  truth  mest  needs  be  stretched. 
To  prove  that  lawyers  afie  so  wretched  ; 
This  paradox  I  '11  undertake, 
For  Paulus'  and  for  Lindsay's  sake; 
By  topics,  which  though  I  abomine  'em, 
May  serve  as  arguments  ad  hominem : 
Yet  I  disdan  to  offer  those 
Made  use  of  by  detracting  foes. 

J  own,  the  curses  of  mankind 
St  light  upon  a  lawyers  mhsd : 
The  clamours  of  ten  thousand  tongues 
Break  not  his  rest,  nor  hurt  his  leogi* 
I  own  his  coaacieace  always  free 
(Provided  he  has  got  his  fee) ; 
Secute  of  constant  peace  within. 
He  knows  no  guilt,  who  knows  no  sin.  « 

Yet  weU  they  merit  to  be  pitied. 
By  clients  always  over-wjguiid. 
And  thovgh  the  gospel  seens  t»  say 
What  heavy  bartbena  lawyen  lay 
Upon  the  shoulders  of  their  neigbbooi^ 
Kor  lend  a  finger  to  the  labour. 
Always  for  saving  thchr  now  bacon ; 
Kodoobty  the  text  is  here  Bfistftkei^;    • 


the  oopy  's  frlfe;  ind  mhik  k  nd^^ 
To  prove  it,  I  appeal  to  fiM:t; 
And  thus  by  demonstratioB  show 
What  buitheos  lawyers  undeigaf 
With  early  clients  at  his  door. 
Though  he  was  drunk  the  night  before^ 
And  crop-sick  with  unclubb'd-for  wine. 
The  wretch  must  be  at  court  by  nine  : 
Half  sunk  beneath  his  briefii  and  beg. 
As  ridden  by  a  midnight  heg : 
Then  from  the  bar,  harangues  the  beDCli|» 
In  £oglish  Tile,  and  Tiler  Frendu 
And  Latin,  Vilest  of  the  three ; 
And  all  for  poor  ten  moidores  fee ! 
Of  paper  how  is  be  profuse. 
With  periods  long,  in  terms  abatruae  I 
What  pains  he  takes  to  be  prolix, 
A  thousand  lines  to  stand  for  sia  1 
Of  common  sense  witboot  a  word  in  ! 
And  is  not  this  a  grievous  bordeo  } 
The  lawyer  is  a  commoa  drudge,* 
To  fight  our  cause  before  the  judge  x 
And,  what  is  yet  a  greater  ctyrse. 
Condemned  to  bear  his  client's  pone  $ 
While  he,  at  ease,  secure  and  light. 
Walks  bokUy  home  at  dead  of  night; 
When  term  is  ended,  leaves  the  towi^ 
Trots  to  his  countrjr-mansioB  down; 
And,  ifiseDcnmber'd  of  his  kMd» 
No  danger  dreads  upon  the  read; 
Despiseth  rapparees^  and  rides 
SafR  throogh  the  Newry  mouatnos' sidsAi 

Lindsay,  tis  you  hate  set  me  ois 
To  state  this  question  pro  and  esn. 
My  satire  may  offend,  'tis  tnia  ; 
However,  it  concerns  not  j€^ 
I  own,  there  may,  in  every  clan» 
Perhaps,  be  found  one  honest  men; 
Yet  link  them  dose,  in  this  they  j 
To  be  but  rascals  in  the  ham] 
Imagine  Lindsay  at  the  bar. 
He's  maCh  the  same  his  biuthfsn  nre; 
Well  taught  by  practice  to  iasbi' 
The  fundamentals  of  his  trfte  x 
And,  in  his  client's  just  < 
Must  deviate  oft  from  oo 
And  make  his  igoonmce  disoesned. 
To  get  the  name  of  eoaneil  leaned 
(As  lucus  comes  d  non  lucendo) 
And  wisely  do  as  other  men  do: 
But  shift  turn  to  a  better  scene, 
Among  his  crew  uf  rogues  in  grain; 
Surroimded  with  companions  fit. 
To  taste  his  bumoor,  sense,  and  wit^ 
Yon  *d  swear  he  never  took  a  fee. 
Nor  knew  in  law  his  A,  0,  G. 

Tts  hard,  where  duUness  overHrnlos, 
To  keep  good  sense  in  crowds  of  Ibolsw 
And  we  admire  the  man  who  saves 
His  honesty  m  crowds  of  knaves  ; 
Nor  Tislds  op  virtue,  at  discfetiol^ 
To  villains  uf  his  own  profbssioa. 
Lindsay,  yoo  know  what  pahis  joa  talii 
Iti  both,  fft  hardly  save  your  stalDs  ; 
And  will  you  venture  both  anew. 
To  sit  among  that  venal  crew. 
That  pack  of  mimic  lc|pslatDrs, 
Abaodon'd,  stupid^  tlavish  piaten  I 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


DtALOGVt 


«rs 


tor,  tt  tht  nbUe  dtnb  toA  riflt 
The  lobl  wbo  acfmrnblet  lor  a  trifle; 
tnio  ftv  hb  paioi  ii  cufPd  and  kick'df 
Drawn  through  the  dirt,  hit  pockeli  pftck'd  ; 
Yoo  OMMt  cgqMCt  the  like  difgnoe^ 
Scrminblhig  with  rogiiefl  to  get  a  place ; 
Must  kNe  the  honour  yoa  bate  gaia*d» 
Year  namerocv  lirtues  foully  statn'd ; 
Ditcl«iiii  for  ever  aU  pretence 
To  common  honerty  and  leoeei 
And  .ioin  in  friendship  with  a  rtrict  tie. 
To  M— 1, 0-y,  and  OickTigfae  K 


A  DTALOGVB 

BETWUlf 

AN  EMINENT  LAWYER  t 

Aim 

DR.  JONATHAN  SWIFT,  D.  S.  P.  D. 

m  aixunoK  to  aoiAct,  book  ii.  sat.  b 

Stmt  qoibus  in  satira,  kc. 

DR.   SWIFT. 

Suici  there  are  persons  who  complain 
There  *%  too  mnch  satire  in  my  vein  ; 
That  I  am  often  found  exceeding 
The  rules  of  raillery  and  breeding ; 
With- too  mndi  freedom  treat  my  betteis^ 
Not  sparing  eren  men  of  letters : 
You,  who  are  skilled  in  lawrerai'  lore, 
What's  your  ndvice?  Shall  I  gire  oNer  ^ 
Nor  ever  fools  or  knaves  expose 
Either  in  verse  or  humoraus  prose ; 
And,  to  avoid  all  future  ill. 
In  my  scrutoire  lock  up  my  quill  ? 


Since  you  are  ple«f*d  to  conde^end 
To  ask  the  judgment  of  a  friend. 
Your  case  con^der*d,  I  must  think 
You  should  withdraw  firom  pen  and  ink^ 
Forbear  your  poetry  and  jokes. 
And  live  Kke  other  Christian  folks ; 
Or,  if  the  Mnsee  most  inspire 
Your  foncy  with  their  pleasing  fire. 
Take  subjects  safer  for  your  wit 
Than  those  on  winch  you  lately  writ. 
Commend  the  times,  your  thoughts  correct. 
And  fbUosr  the  prevailing  sect ; 
Assert,  that  Hyde  9,  in  writing  story. 
Shows  all  the  malice  of  a  Tory ; 
While  Burnet  *,  in  his  deathless  page, 
Discovers  freedooi  without  rage. 
To  Woobton  ^  reconmiend  our  youth, 
Fbr  learning,  probi^,  and  truth  ; 

^  This  gentleman,  who  was  a  privy  camitillor, 
incurred  the  severe  displeasure  of  tha  Doas,  who 
has  taken  several  opportunities  of  otneurioghimb  /C 

<  Mr.  lindsay.     See  p.  473. 

3  Edward  Hyde,  the  first  earl  of  Ckiendon^  wte 
wrote  the  history  of  the  civil  wars.    N. 

«  The  celebrated  bishop  of  Sali^bmy.    N. 

KA  ^egaaded  clergyman  of  tiie  church  of  E»f- 
]«id,whowrgU4iriuMtthft«iim€li«itfGhiiit.  Jf. 


That  BoUe  gettka^  wlio  mdmUl 
The  chain  which  fetter  free4)om  miadi| 
Redeems  us  from  the  slavish  feats 
Which  lastad  near  two  thousand  years  ^ 
He  can  alone  the  priaithaod  humble. 
Make  gikkd  ^res  and  akais  tunblob 


Must  I  command  against  my  conspianny 
Such  stupid  blasphemy  ani  noaseoee? 
To  such  a  subject  tune  my  lyre. 
And  sing  like  one  of  MiltMi*s  choir. 
Where  devils  to  a  vale  retreat. 
And  call  the  laws  of  wisdom  fiute^ 
Lament  upon  theit*  hapless  fiifl. 
That  force  free  vhrtue  should  enthrall  } 
Or  shall  the  charms  of  wealth  and  powst 
Biahe  me  pollute  the  Muses'  bower  i 


As  from  the  tripod  of  Apollo^ 
Hear  from  my  desk  the  words  thai  fiAwrs 
"  Some,  by  liiilosophers  misled. 
Must  honour  yon  aUve  and  dead; 
And  such  as  know  what  Oreece  hath  wri^ 
Must  taste  your  irony  and  wit ; 
Whilst  most  that  are,  or  woukl  be  giea(t. 
Must  drsad  your  pen,  your  person  hate  | 
And  you  on  Drapier's  ^  hill  must  lie. 
And  there  without  a  mitre  die." 


Off  BURNING  A  DULL  Pmm 

An  ass^s  hoof  alone  can  bold 

That  poisonous  juice  which  kilb  by  cdbL 

Methought,  when  I  this  poem  read. 

No  vessel  but  an  ass's  he^ 

Such  frigid  fustian  could  contain; 

I  mean,  the  bead  without  the  bnun. 

The  cold  conceits,  the  obilling  thougUti^ 

Went  down  like  stupifying  draughts : 

I  found  my  bead  bq$an  to  swim, 

A  numbness  crept  through  every  limbw 

hi  baste,  with  imprecations  dire, 

1  threw  the  volume  in  the  fire : 

When,  (who  could  think  ?)  though  cold  as  ioc^ 

It  burnt  to  ashes  in  a  trice. 

How  could  I  more  enhance  its  fame  ? 
Though  bom  iu  snow,  it  died  in  flame* 


ANEPlSTJJi 

TO 

ms  EXCELLENCY  JOHN  LORD  CARTGEET. 

BT  mt.  DKtAinr.    1719. 

Gredis  ob  hoc,  ma,  Futar,  opee  fortUMvofaie^ 
Propter  qned,  vulgas,  crasia^iw  tnrba  i 


Mart.  Spif.  UU  ir 
Thoit  wise  and  learned  ruler  of  oar  Isle, 
Whose  guardian  care  can  all  her  griefii  beguile; 

^  In  the  county  of  Armagh,  when  Dr.  Swift,  io 
theyaac  IT^SI,  hadsome  UMa|btaof  buildin|;'aa 
appears  by  several  of  the  foMowmg  poetni.    jl 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4Wf 


^WlFt^PbEUS. 


When  next  yoar  gtuanm  tool  rtiall  ooiidesoeDd 
T  iDftnict  or  entertain  yoar  btiinble  fnetid  ; 
Whether,  retiring  from  your  weighty  charge^ 
On  mne  high  theme  yon  learnedly  eolaige  ; 
Of  all  the  ways  of  wisdom  reason  well, 
How  Richelieu  rose,  and  how  Sc^mis  fell : 
Or,  when  yoor  brow  less  thoughtfully  unbends. 
Circled  with  Swift  and  some  delighted  friends ; 
When,  mixmg  mirth  and  wisdom  with  voor  wine. 
Like  that  your  wit  shall  flow,  yoor  genius  Ame, 
Kor  with  less  praise  the  conversation  guide, 
Than  in  the  public  councils  you  decide : 
Or  when  the  dean,  long  privileged  to  rail. 
Asserts  his  friend  with  more  impetuous  zeal ; 
You  hear  (whilst  I  sit  by  abash'd  and  mute), 
With  soft  concessions  shortening  the  dispute  ; 
Then  close  with  kind  inquiries  of  my  state, 
•*  How  are  your  tithes,  and  hate  they  rose  of  late  ? 
Why,  Christ-Church  is  a  pretty  situation, 
There  are  not  many  better  in  the  nation  ! 
This,  with  your  other  things,  must  yieW  yt)u  clear 
Some  six — at  least  five  hundred  pounds  a  year.** 

Suppose,  at  such  a  time,  I  took  the  freedom 
To  sp^  these  truths  as  plamly  as  you  read  >cm 
(You  shaH  rtjoin,  my  loni,  when  I  'tc  replied. 
And,  if  you  please,  my  lady  shall  decide) : 

'*  My  lord,  I  'm  satisfied  you  meant  me  well ; 
And  that  Vm  thankful,  all  the  world  can  tell  : 
But  you  *ll  forgive  me,  if  I  own  th*  event 
Is  short,  b  yay  short,  of  yonr  intent ; 
At  least,  I  feel  some  ills  unfelt  before. 
My  income  less,  and  my  expenses  more.** 

**  How,  doctor  I  donble  vicar  I  doable  rector  1 
A  dignitary  I  with  a  city  lecture  I 
What  glebe»— what  dues— what  tithes— what  fines 

—what  rent ! 
Why,  doctor !— will  you  never  be  content  ?** 

**  Would  my  good  lord  but  cast  up  the  account. 
And  see  to  what  my  revenues  amount. 
My  titles  ample !  but  my  gain  so  snudi. 
That  one  good  vicarage  is  worth  them  all : 
And  very  wretched  sure  b  he,  that  *s  double 
In  nothing  but  his  titles  and  hb  trouble. 
Add  to  this  crying  grievance,  if  you  please. 
My  horses  founder'd  on  Fermanah  ways ; 
Ways  of  well-polish'd  and  well-pointed  stone. 
Where  every  step  endangers  every  bone  ; 
And  more  to  raise  your  pity  and  your  wonder. 
Two  churches— twelve  Hibernian  miles  asunder  I 
Witb  complicated  cunt,  I  labour  hard  in. 
Besides  whole  summers  absent  firom  my  garden  !— 
But  that  the  world  would  think  I  play'd  the  fool, 
I  M  change  with  Charley  Grattan  for  hb  school  i— 
What  fine  cascades,  what  vii^  might  I  make 
Fh(t  in  the  centra  of  th'  leroian  lake  i 
There  might  I  sail  delighted,  smooth  and  safe. 
Beneath  the  conduct  of  pny  giM)d  ib  Ralph  *: 
There  'i  not  a  better  iteerer  in  the  realm ; 
I  hope,  my  lord,  yon  'II  caU  him  to  the  Ae/ja?*— 

**  Doetoi^-a  giorions  scheme  to  ^aae  your  grief ! 
When  cuTM  are  crow,  a  school  *s  a  sure  relief 
Yon  caimol  fail  of  befaig  happy  tbtre. 
The  lake  will  be  the  LMhe  of  yoor  eare : 
The  schema  b  for  yonr  honour  and  yoor  ease; 
4iid,  doctor,  1  'U  promote  it  when  yoo  pleMo. 

1 A  free-tchool  at  ImbkUkn,  fbonded  by  Eras- 
mos  Smith,  esq.    H, 

»Sr  Ralph  Ooi«^  wte  ftbd stBliii  tte  ld»  of 
Erin.  • 


Mean-while,  allowing  thingi  below  yoor  meri^ 

Yet,  doctor,  you  've  a  pliilosophic  spirit| 

Yoor  wants  are  few^  and,  like  yoor  incoou 

And  you  Mre  enough  to  gratify  them  all  r 

You  >ve  trees,  and  fruits,  and  mots,  enough  in  store: 

And  what  wonM  a  philosopher  ^ve  more  ? 

Yon  cannot  wish  ftc  coaches,  kitchens,  ood 

"  My  lord,  1  've  not  enoogh  to  buy  nse  I 
Or  pray,  suppose  my  wants  were  all  snppUed, 
Are  there  no  wanu  I  should  regard  beside  ^ 
Whose  breast  b  so  unmanned,  as  not  to  grieve, 
Compass'd  with  miseries  he  can't  lejieve? 
Who  can  be  happy — ^who  should  wbh  to  live. 
And  want  the  godlike  happiness  to  give  ? 
(That  I  'm  a  judge  of  thb,  you  most  allow: 
I  bad  it  ODce — and  I  'm  debarred  it  now). 
Ask  your  own  heart,  my  lord,  if  thb  be  trae. 
Then  how  unblest  am  1 1  how  blest  are  you  !** 

"  *Tb  true— but,  doctor,  let  us  wave  aH  1 
Say,  if  you  bad  your  wbh,  what  yoo  'd  be  at.*» 

"  Excuse  me,  good  my  lord — I  wont  be  soanded. 
Nor  shall  your  favour  by  my  wauts  be  tM)anded. 
My  lord,  1  challenge  nothing  as  my  doe. 
Nor  is  it  fit  I  shooM  prescribe  to  you. 
Yet  this  might  S3rmmachiis  himself  avow 
(Whose  rigid  rules  arc  antiquated  now) — 
My  lord,  I  *d  wish  to  pa^  the  debts  I  oxLt — 
I  *d  wbh  besides — to  bfudd^  and  to  bestow  J* 


AN  EPISTLE  UPON  Mf  EPISTLE 

raoM 
'     A  CERTAIN  DOCTOR 

TO 

A  CERTAIN  GREAT  IjORa 
BBino  A  csaisTMAs-Box  poa  Vk.  PBLAirV* 

As  Jove  will  not  attend  on  less, 
\Vben  things  of  more  importance  press; 
Yoo  can't,  grave  sir,  believe  it  hard. 
That  yoo,  a  low  Hibernian  bard, 
Should  cool  your  heels  awhile,  and  wait 
Unanswer'd  at  your  pationH  gate : 
And  would  my  lord  vonchsafe  to  grant 
Thb  one,  poor,  hnmble  boon  1  want. 
Free  leave  to  play  hb  secretary. 
Am  Fklstaff  acted  old  king  Harry ; 
I  'd  tell  of  yours  in  rhyme  and  print  ? 
Folks  shrug,  and  cry  'J  here  *s  nottting  in  V* 
And,  after  several  readings  over. 
It  shines  most  in  the  marble  cover. 

How  could  ao  fine  a  taste  dispense. 
With  mean  degrees  of  wit  and  senee  } 
Nor  will  my  lord  so  fisr  beguile 
Hie  wise  and  teamed  of  onr  UU  $ 
To  make  it  pass  upon  the  nation. 
By  dint  of  hb  sole  approbation. 
The  task  b  arduous,  patrons  find. 
To  warp  the  tense  of  all  mankiml; 
Who  think  yoor  Muse  must  first  aspire^ 
B^  he  advance  the  doctor  higher. 

Yoo  ^re  cause  to  say  ha  meant  you  woeR: 
That  yoK  ore  thnkful,  who  sen  teUf 
For  stfll  yoo  *te  short  (which  grieves  your  apiri^ 
Of  hb  intaiti  yon  ■»»,  yoor  1 


^Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


A  UBEL. 


«fr 


Ahl  quanh  recihu,  hi  ade^, 
#«t  nil  molmt  tmk  inepte  f 
Smedlef  S  th«u  Jooatliai]  of  aogrber, 
•*  When  thoa  thy  humble  lay  dost  offer 
To  Gcafton*t  grace,  with  gratefnl  be^urt. 
Thy  thanki  rad  verse  devoid  of  art : 
Cootent  with  what  his  bounty  gave. 
No  larger  income  dost  thoo  crave.  ^' 

But  yon  nrast  have  cascades,  and  all 
feme's  lake  for  your  canal, 
Yotfr  vistoB,  barg«.>s,  and  (a  pox  on 
All  pride !)  our  speaker  for  your  conm  a 
It '»  pity  that  be  can*t  bestow  you 
Twelve  oomrooDers  in  caps  to  row  3roa. 
Thus  Edgar  prcMid,  in  days  of  yore. 
Held  monatchs  labouring  at  the  oar ; 
And,  as  be  passed,  so  swe)l*d  the  Dse, 
Knra^d,  as  Em  would  do  at  thee. 

How  difiereni  is  this  from  Soiedley  ! 
(His  name  is  up,  he  may  in  bed  lie) 
**  Who  only  asks  some  pretty  core. 
In  wholesome  soil  and  ether  pure ; 
The  garden  storM  with  artless  floweis, 
tn  either  angle  sbady  bowers : 
Ko  gay  parterre  with  costly  green 
Must  in  the  ambient  hedge  be  seen ; 
Bat  Nature  Aneely  takes  her  course, 
Kor  feass  from  hhn  ungrateful  force : 
Ko  sheers  to  check  her  sprouting  vigour, 
Or  shape  tho  y«tv«  to  antic  figure.'' 

Bat  you,  forsooth,  yonr  oU  must  squander 
On  that  poor  spot,  calFd  Dell-ville  yonder : 
And  when  you  *ve  been«t  vast  expenses 
In  whims,  paiteries,  canals,  and  fences. 
Your  asseU  fiiil,  and  cash  is  wanting  ^ 
Nor  fiutber  buildnigs,  farther  planting : 
No  wonder,  when  yon  raise  and  level. 
Think  this  wall  low,  and  that  wall  be^'el. 
Here  a  convenient  box  yon  found, 
Which  you  demolish'd  to  the  ground : 
Then  built,  then  took  op  with  your  arboor. 
And  set  the  bouse  to  Rupert  Barber. 
Yon  sprang  an  arch,  which,  in  a  scurvy 
Humour,  you  tumbled  topsy-turvy. 
You  change  a  circle  to  n  square, 
Then  to  a  circle  as  yon  were : 
Who  can  imagine  whence  the  fund  is, 
That  you  putdrtta  change  rotundis  9 

Tu  Fame  a  temple  you  erect, 
A  Flora  does  the  dome  protect ; 
Mounts,  walks,  on  high :  and  in  a  hollow 
You  place  the  Muses  and  Apollo ; 
There  shining  'midst  his  train,  to  gnm 
Your  whimsical  poetic  place. 

These  stories  were  of  okl  designed 
M  fiibles ;  but  you  have  refin'd 
The  poets'  mytbologic  dreams. 
To  real  Muses,  gods,  and  streams. 
Who  would  not  swear,  when  you  cootriw  tfans^ 
That  you  'rc  Don  Quhcote  RediVivus  ? 

Beneath,  a  dry  canal  there  lies. 
Which  only  wioter*s  rain  supplies. 
Oh !  couMst  thou,  by  some  magic  spel^ 
Hither  convey  SL  Patrick's  well ! 
Here  may  it  re*Msome  its  stream  >, 
And  take  a  greater  Patrick's  namel 

>  flee  a  Petitkm  to  the  Duke  of  dlraftoo,  p.  41^. 
•  See  Dr.  Swift's  veties  on  tl^  diy^-^ip  «l  tUi 
^3^  in  tbii  Tolyioti  m  4^h 


If  ybuT  expenses  nte  so  hl^. 
What  income  can  your  wants  supply  ? 
Yet  still  you  fancy  yon  inherit 
A  fiind  of  such  superior  merit. 
That  you  cant  fiUl  of  more  provisloa. 
All  by  my  tadfu  kind  deciskm. 
For,  the  more  livings  you  can  fish  up. 
Yon  think  you  *ll  sooner  be  n  bishop: 
That  could  not  be  my  lord's  imi€nt, 
Nor  can  it  answer  the  event 
Most  tbiidc  what  has  been  heap'd  on  you. 
To  other  sort  of  folk  was  due ; 
Rewards  too  great  fmr  yonr  flim-fiams, 
Epistlesy  tiddies,  epigrams. 

Though  now  yonr  depth  must  not  be  siwmded^ 
The  time  was,  when  you  'd  have  compounded 
For  less  than  Charley  Grattan's  school :  ^ 

Five  hundred  pound  a  3rear  's  no  fopl  f 

Take  this  advkse  then  from  year  friend  r 
To  your  ambitkm  put  an  end. 
Be  frugal,  Pat :  pay  what  you  owe^ 
Before  you  huiid  and  you  hestom, 
Be  modest;  nor  address  your  betters 
With  begging;  vam,  fiimiliar  letters. 

A  pafNage  may  be  (bund  ^  I  ^re  heard. 
In  some  old  Greek  or  Latian  bard. 
Which  says,  "  Would  crows  in  silence  eat 
'llieir  ofbls,  or  their  better  meat. 
Their  generous  fseders  not  provcjpng 
By  loud  and  onbarmonious  croaking  ; 
They  migbt,  unhurt  by  ^rf%  daws, 
live  on,  and  stuff  to  boot  their  maws.** 


A  LIBEL 

IBT  T«I  mtVIKKVB 

DR.  DELANY, 

AI|D  HIS  BXCXLLSVCr 

JOHN  LORD  CARTERET.     17W. 

DxLUDBD  mortals,  wbom  the  greai 
Choose  for  compamoof  UU  d  t^; 
Who  at  their  draners,  enfamUU^ 
Get  leave  to  sit  whene'er  3roa  will ; 
Then  boasting  tell  us  where  you  diii'd» 
And  bow  bis  A)n(rAt^  was  so  kind ; 
How  many  pleasant  things  he  spoke, 
And  how  y<m  laug^'d  at  errvrfjoke^ 
Swear  he  's  a  most  fscetxMis  man ; 
That  you  and  he  arc  cup  and  con : 
You  travel  with  a  heavy  k)ad. 
And  quite  mistake  pr^erwunV%  road. 

Suppose  my  iarrf  and  you  akine  ; 
Hint  the  least  interest  of  yonr  own. 
His  visage  drops,  be  knUts  hb  brow^ 
He  cannot  talk  <i  bqsinem  now : 
Or,  mention  bnt  a  vaoantpoff. 
He  'U  turn  it  off  with,  «  Name  yonr  tO|«(:» 
Nor  couM  the  nicest  aitlit  pafait 
A  oonntenanc0  with  more  oonstraint* 

For  as,  tb^  appetitei  to  qaench. 
Lords  keep  a  phnp  to  bring  a  wenoh  I 
So  men  of  wit  are  but  a  kM 
Of  pandan  to  a  vkaouf  nW  I 

t|Hof;Lih.«p.t«flL 


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»7» 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Who  proper  objects  ioittt  pto^ide 
To  gratify  their  lost  of  pndo. 
When,  wearied  with  intrigues  of  state. 
They  find  an  idle  hoar  to  prate. 
Then,  shall  yoo  dare  to  ask  a  place. 
You  ibrftiit  all  your  patron*%  grace. 
And  disappohit  the  sole  design 
Por  which  he  sommooM  yoo  to  ime^ 

Thus  Gongreve  spent  in  writing  plays^ 
And  one  poor  office,  half  his  days: 
While  Mootagne,  who  claim'd  the  statioii 
To  be  Maecenas  of  the  natkm. 
For  poets  open  table  kept, 
Bot  De*er  considered  where  they  slept  t 
Hiihsblf  as  rich  as  fifty  Jews, 
Was  eaay,  though  they  wanted  shoese 
And  crazy  Coogreve  scarce  could  spare 
A  shilling  to  dischaige  his  chair ; 
TiM  pniteoe  taught  him  to  appeal 
Ttom  Paean's  fire  to ^orty  zeal; 
Kot  owing  to  his  hapinr  tvIii 
The  fortunes  of  his  later  soene. 
Took  proper  pHfK^^  to  thriire ; 
And  so  might  erery  dumct  aKre.       f 

Thus  St^le,  who  ownM  wfaid  others  writ, 
Aod.flourish'd  by  hnputed  wit, 
Tirom  perib  of  a  hundred  jails 
Withdrew  to  sUrre,  and  die  in  Wales. 

Thus  Gay,  the  kwre  with  many  friefids. 
Twice  seven  long  yean  the  comri  atfecndss 
Wboy  under  tales  4XNrreying  truth. 
To  Tirtoe  form*d  a  prmal^  youth  ^ : 
Who  paid  his  courtship  with  the  crowd 
As  fiur  as  mofief/ pru2s  aOow*d; 
Rejects  a  serrile  t»A^s  place. 
And  leaves  St  James's  in  disgrace. 

Thus  Addison,  by  lords  carest. 
Was  left  in  foreico  lands  distrest ; 
Forgot  at  home,  oecame  ibr  hire 
A  travelling  tiitor  to  a  $quire : 
But  wisely  left  the  Muses*  hill. 
To  business  shapM  the  poeC%  quill, 
Let  all  bbharren  laurris  fide. 
Took  up  himself  the  courtier's  trade. 
And,  grown  a  mimtier  qfitata. 
Saw  poets  at  his  levee  wait 

Hail,  happy  Pope!  whose  geoeroos  Bind 
Betesting  all  the  statesman  kind. 
Contemning  courte,  at  coarfir  unseen, 
Befbs'd  the  visits  of  a  qoeea. 
A  tool  with  every  virtne  fraught. 
By  MgM,  prietist  or  p9H$  tsnght ; 
Whose  filial  piety  enels 
Whatever  Grecian  story  tells; 
A  genius  for  all  stations  fit. 
Whose  wuanut  tuient  is  his  oil ; 
His  heart  too  great,  thongh  CNtone  \Me, 
1\>  lick  a  nucai  ftetannan's  s(4lBe; 
Appealhig  to  the  natiatt^  taate. 
Above  the  reach  of  w«Bt  is  placed  : 
By  Homer  dead  was  tnnght  to  thrhte. 
Which  HooMT  naver  oocdd  ali««e ; 
And  sits  aloft  on  Pindas*  head, 
Despisnig  tlavet  that  mage  ftir  kmid« 

TYue  foUticiam  only  pay 
Pbr  solia  toorl^  but  aoi  ftir  pkf  ; 
Nor  ever  chuse  to  work  with  tools 
Cjprg^d  up  in  colUget  m 


^  WUliam  di^ke  of  Cttii|b«ii^«ii  toCfear|re  H. ; 


CoiMider  bow  much  IMve  ii  duk 
To  all  theh-zoiinMyiReA  than  yoiH 
At  table  you  can  Horace  quote; 
They  at  a  phieh  can  bribe  a  vote  r 
You  show  your  skill  in  Grecian  story  ; 
But  they  can  manage  Whig  and  Tory : 
You,  as  a  critic,  are  so  carious 
To  find  a  verse  in  Virgil  spurious; 
But  they  citn  smoke  the  deep  dengns^ 
When  Bolingbroke  with  Pulleney  dinea. 

Besides,  your  patron  may  upbrud  ye^ 
That  you  have  got  a  place  abeady  ; 
An  office  for  your  talents  fit. 
To  flatter,  carve,  and  show  your  wit; 
To  snuff  the  lights,  and  sthr  the  fire. 
And  get  a  <2taiurr  for  joar  hire. 
What  claim  have  you  to  ^Jac«  or  pranmi^ 
He  overpays  in  condesoension. 

But,  reverend  dodor,  yoo,  we  kaolv, 
CouM  never  condescend  so  km : 
The  viec-roy,  whom  you  now  attend. 
Would,  if  he  durst,  be  more  your  fineod  ; 
Nor  will  in  you  those  gifts  despise. 
By  which  himself  was  taught  to  rbe: 
When  he  has  rirtoe  to  retira. 
He  *11  grieve  he  did  not  raise  yon  higbery 
And  place  jrou  in  a  better  station. 
Although  it  might  have  pieas'd  the  nalaoB^ 

Thu  may  be  true    sAmittipg  still 
To  Walpole*s  more  than  royal  will ; 
And  what  condition  can  be  wont } 
He  comes  to  drahi  a  beggar^c  purm  ; 
He  comes  to  tie  our  chains  on  jMter, 
And  show  us,  Engbnd  b  our  master  z 
Caressing  knaves,  and  donees  wooing. 
To  make  them  work  theb  own  undoing* 
What  "has  be  ebe  to  bait  hb  traps. 
Or  bring  his  vermin  in,  bot  terapif 
The  o&ls  of  a  church  distrest; 
A  hungry  vicarage  at  best ; 
Or  some  reooote  mforior  pM#, 
With  forty  pounds  a  year  at  most } 

But  here  again  you  iaterposa— 
Your  favourite  lord  b  none  of  those 
Who  owe  their  rirtnes  to  tiieir  stations. 
And  characters  to  dedications : 
For  keep  him  in,  or  turn  him  oat, 
Hb  learning  none  will  cadi  in  doidit; 
His  learning,  though  a  poet  said  it 
Before  a  play,  would  kae  no  credit ; 
Nor  Pope  would  dare  deny  him  wit. 
Although  to  praise  it  PhiUips  writ 
I  own,  he  hsttes  an  action  base, 
Hb  virtues  baUling  with  hb  place  ; 
Nor  wants  a  nice  discernhig  spirit 
Betwixt  a  true  and  sporious  meiH ; 
Can  sometimes  drop  a  ooltr's  qlatm. 
And  give  up  party  to  hb  fiune. 
I  do  the  most  that/rieai£iAr|[)  can ; 
I  hate  the  vice -ray,  km  the  aiaa. 

But  you  who,  taH  yoor  fostnne  *t 
Must  be  a  ttoeetemer  by  your  trade* 
Should  swedr  be  never  meant  us  iU; 
Westtffsrsore  against  hbwiU; 
That,  if  we  cookl  hot  see  hb  heart. 
He  woukl  have  duse  a  mflder  parts 
We  rather  should  lament  hb  case. 
Who  must  obey,  or  lese  hm  place. 

SiBoe  thb  reflaciton  sKpt  yoorpeq, 
Umn  a  when  yon  write  agaift  i 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


TO  DR.  DEIANT. 


47* 


^nd,  to  QbMtntt  %  pftduet 
TluKnnt^  for  hk  ezcuMt 

**8oU>  deitroy  a  guilty  laad 
An  angti  <  tent  by  kewem^t  romamwi. 
While  be  obeys  aimigkig  will, 
Ferfaapt  may  fori  compoMtUm  ttill; 
And  WMh  the  tuk  had  been  aaogu'd 
To  spirttt  of  leas  gentle  kiodt*' 

Bot  I,  in  politics  grown  M, 
Whose  thoughts  are  of  a  <iiilinrent  qkmiMi 
Who  frgm  my  soul  sinoerdy  hate 
Both  kimgt  and  mimsifrt  of  tlo/e. 
Who  look  on  couwtt  with  stricter  eyes 
To  see  the  seeds  of  vice  arise, 
Om  lend  you  an  allosioa  fitter. 
Though  ^o/lertng  hmoet  may  call  it  kiiUr  / 
Which,  if  you  durst  but  give  it  place. 
Would  show  you  many  a  statesman**  fiice  f    ' 
Fresh  from  the  tripod  of  Apollo 
I  had  it  m  the  words  that  follow 
(Take  notice,  to  avoid  ofliance, 
J  here  except  kie  eateUence), 

<<  So,  to  effiwt  his  laonorcA's  ends, 
Prom  UeU  a  vice-r«y  devil  ascends ; 
His  budget  with  comip^oms  crammMf 
The  coatributaooB  of  the  damn*d  ; 
Which  with  unsparing  hand  he  strows 
Through  courts  and  senates  as  he  goes  ; 
And  then  at  Beelzebub's  black  kaU 
Complains  his  budg^  was  toe  smalL** 

Your  simile  may  better  shine 
|n  verse^  but  there  is  truth  in  mine, 
For  no  imaginable  things 
pan  differ  more  thim  gods  and  kings  i 
And  statesmen  by  ten  thousand  od^ 
Are  angels  just  4s  kiogs  are  gods. 


TO  DRr  DELANV^ 

OK  TUB 

LIBELS  WRFITEN  AGAINST  HIM, 

-^'ninti  ttbi  non  sit  opaci 

Oranit  arena  Tsgi.  Juv, 

A9  some  raw  youth  m  country  bred^ 
*ro  arms  by  thirst  of  honour  led. 
When  at  a  skirmish  first  he  hears 
The  bullets  whistling  round  his  ears. 
Will  duck  his  head  ^ide,  will  st^j^ 
And  feel  a  trembling  at  bis  heart,. 
Till  'scaping  oft  without  a  wouqd 
Lessens  the  terrour  of  the  sqund  ; 
Fly  bullets  now  as  thick  as  hops, 
He  runs  into  a  cannon's  chops : 
An  author  thus,  who  pants  for  fiime. 
Begins  the  world  with  fbir  and  shame  ^ 
When  first  in  print,  you  see  him  drea4 
Each  pop-gun  level'4  at  his  head : 
The  lead  von  critic's  quill  contains,. 
Is  destin'd  to  beat  out  his  bnuns : 
As  if  he  heard  loud  thunders  roll. 
Cries,  Lord,  have  mercy  on  his  soul  1 
Concluding,  that  another  shot 
WtU  strike  him  des^l  upon  the  spot, 

<Sowhea«iufelby#riDeeoiBmaiid,  9^ 

AiMktrm'i  OMnptigw 


But,  when  with  iqmbbtog,  fiashing,  poppinf^ 

He  cannot  see  one  creature  dro^fi^Bgi 

That,  missing  fire,  or  missing  aim. 

His  life  is  safe,  I  mean  his  feme  ; 

The  danger  pa^t,  takes  heart  of  grac«, 

And  looks  a  critic  in  the  fece. 
Though  splendour  gives  the  feu«st  maik 

To  poison'd  arrows  iiom  the  dark. 

Yet,  ta  yourself  when  smooth  and  rounds 

They  glance  aside  without  a  wound. 
*Ti8  said,  the  gods  try'd  all  their  art. 

How  fain  they  might  from  pleasure  part  ; 

But  little  coukl  their  streogth  avail ; 

Both  still  are  festen'd  by  the  tail. 

Thus /ame  and  cesuure  with  a  tether 

By  fete  are  always  linkM  together. 
Why  will  you  aim  to  he  preferr^ 

In  wit  before  the  common  herd ; 

And  yet  grow  mortify'd  and  vez'd 

To  pay  the  penalty  annexed  ? 
'tis  eminence  makes  envy  rise  ; 

As  feirest  fruits  attract  the  flies. 

Should  stupid  libels  grieve  your  mind» 
You  soon  a  remedy  may  find  ; 
Lie  down  obsoura  like  ctiier  folks 
Below  the  lash  of  snarlars' jokes. 

Their  faction  is  five  hundred  odds  : 
For  every  coacomb  lends  them  rods. 
And  sneers  as  learnedly  as  they. 
Like  females  o'er  their  roomiog  tea* 

You  say,  the  Muse  will  not  ceotatB, 
And  write  you  must,  or  break  a  veio. 
Then,  if  you  find  the  terms  too  havd. 
No  longer  my  adviee  regard : 
But  raise  your  fancy  on  the  wing; 
The  Irish  senate^*  praises  sing: 
How  jealous  of  the  nalion^  freedom^ 
And  for  corruptions  how  they  weed  'em  ; 
How  each  the  public  good  pursues, 
How  fer  their  hearts  from  private  views: 
Make  all  true  patriots,  up  to  shee-bo3rs^ 
Hnzza  their  brethren  at  the  Blue-boys  ; 
Thus  grown  a  member  of  the  ehuh^ 
No  longer  dread  the  rage  of  Qruh. 

How  oft  am  I  for  rhyme  to  seek ! 
To  dress  a  thought,  may  toil  a  week  : 
And  then  how  thankful  to  the  town» 
If  all  my  pains  wiH  earn-  a  esowm !' 
Whilst  every  critic  can  devour 
My  work'  and  me  in  half  an  hoor. 
Would  men  of  genius  ceofie  to  wvita^ 
The  ro.i;iies  must  die  for  want  and  epitr^ 
Must  die  for  want  of  food  and  1 
If  scandal  did  not  find  them  1 
How  cheerfully  the  hawkers  cry 
A  satire,  and  the  gentry  buy  ! 
While  my  hard-labour'd  poem  \ ' 
Unsold  upon  the  nrint^r's  lhK& 

A  genius  in  tbe*reverand<  gowa  • 
Must  ever  keep  its  owner  dama; 
TIs  an  unnatural  ooigunction. 
And  spoils  the  credit  of  the  fimctiow. 
Round  all  your  brethren  cast  your  1 
Pomt  out  ttiosurest  men  to  risai 
That  club  of  candidates  ia  Mack, 
The  least  deserving  of  the  paek^ 
Aspiring,  fectious,  fieree,  stiid  Hmdr 
With  grace  and  learaingrnneadeiw^ 
Can  turn  their  bands  tottery  job, 
Tl^  fittest  took  to.  weriv  UtBtk^^ 


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4M 


SWIPPS  POEMS. 


WtUflOOMreoinaihotitaiidljes,  ^ 

Than  suffer  mea  of  pacts  to  rise; 

They  crowd  about  preferment's  gate. 

And  press  you  down  with  all  their  wdghL 

For  as,  of  old,  mathematicians 

Ware  hy  the  vulgar  thought  magicians  ; 

So  academic  doll  ale-drinkers 

Pronounce  all  men  at  mttfree-^nkerh 

Wit,  as  the  chief  of  Tiitue's  friends. 
Disdains  to  serve  ignoble  ends. 
Observe  what  loads  of  stnpid  rhymes 
Oppress  us  in  corrupted  times: 
What  pamphlets  in  a  court's  defence 
Show  reason,  grammar,  truth,  or  sense  ? 
For  though  the  Muse  delights  in  fiction, 
She  ne'er  inspires  against  conviction. 
Then  keep  your  virtue  still  unmixt. 
And  let  not  fection  come  betwixt : 
By  party-steps  no  grandeur  climb  at,      ^ 
Though  it  would  make  you  Enarland's  pnmate : 
First  learn  the  science  to  be  dull, 
You  then  may  soon  your  conscience  lull ; 
If  not,  however  seated  high. 
Your  genius  in  your  feoe  will  fly. 

When  Jove  was  from  his  teeming  bead 
Of  wit's  fan-  goddess  bnmc^  to  be^ 
Thew  followed  at  his  lying-in 
For  after-birth  a  sootsrUn  $ 
Which,  as  the  num  pursued  to  kill. 
Attained  by  flig^  the  Muses'  hill, 
Ther«  in  the  soil  began  to  roGt, 
And  litter>d  at  Pluniassns>  foot. 
From  hence  the  critic  vermin  sprung. 
With  harpy  claws  and  poisonous  toogu«. 
Who  fetten  on  poetic  scraps. 
Too  cunning  to  be  cang^  in  traps. 
Dame  Nature,  as  the  learned  show. 
Provides  ench  animal  its  foe  r 
Hounds  hunt  the  hare ;  the  wily  fox 
Devours  your  geese,  the  wolf  your  flocks. 
Thus  envy  pleads  a  natural  claim 
To  persecute  the  Muses'  fame; 
On  poets  in  all  times  abusive, 
Ttom  Homer  down  to  Pope  mclosive. 

Yet  what  avails  it  to  complain  ? 
You  try  to  take  revenge  in  vain. 
A  rat  your  utmost  rage  defies. 
That  safe  behind  the  wainscot  lieb 
Say,  did  you  ever  know  by  sight 
In  cheese  an  hidividual  mite  ? 
Show  me  the  same  numeric  flea. 
That  bit  your  oaok  but  yesterday : 
You  then  may  boMly  go  in  quest 
To  fitti  the  Gmb-street  poet's  nest^ 
What  spunging-bouse,  in  dread  of  jail, 
Beceives  them,  while  they  wait  for  bail  i 
What  alley  they  are  nestled  in» 
To  flourish  o'er  a  cup  of  gin ; 
Fmd  the  last  garret  where  they  liy. 
Or  cellar  where  they  starve  to-day. 
Suppose  you  had  them  all  trepann'd» 
WHh  each  a  libri  ha  hb  band. 
What  punishment  would  you  inflict  ? 
Or  call  them  rogues,  or  get  them  kicktf 
These  they  have  often  try  *d  before; 
^  You  but  <jl>lige  them  so  much  mores 
Themselves  would  be  the  first  to  tell, 
Jo  make  their  |rash  the  better  selL 

You  have  been  Kbel'd— Let  us  know, 
What  Ibol  oflkiou^  loUl  you  io  2 


Will  j6a  ngud  the  h««ker^  cries, 
Who  in  his  titles  always  lies  ? 
Whate'er  the  noisy  stoondrel  says, 
It  might  be  something  in  your  pralw  i 
And  praise  bestowM  on  Ofub-street  rhymet 
Would  vex  one  more  a  tfaooaand  times. 
Till  critics  blame,  and  judges  i 
The  poet  cannot  claim  his  bays. 
On  me  when  dunces  are  satiric, 
I  take  it  for  a  panegyric. 
Hated  by  fools,  wad  fools  to  hate. 
Be  that  my  motto^  and  my /ale. 


DIRECTIONS  FOR  MAKING 

A  BIRTH-BAY  SONG. 

1729. 

To  form  a  just  and  finish'd  piece. 
Take  twenty  gods  of  Rome  or  Greece, 
Whose  godships  are  in  chief  request. 
And  fit  your  present  subject  best : 
And,  should  it  be  your  hero's  case. 
To  have  both  male  and  female  rmoe^ 
Your  business  must  be  to  provide 
A  score  of  goddesses  beside. 

Some  call  their  mooarchs  sons  of  Satnm, 
For  which  they  briug  a  modem  pattern  ; 
Because  they  might  have  heard  of  one. 
Who  often  long'd  to  eat  his  son : 
But  this,  I  think,  will  not  go  down. 
For  here  the  father  kept  his  crown. 

Why,  tbe^,  appoint  him  son  of  Jove^ 
Who  met  his  mother  ui  a  grove; 
To  this  we  freely  shall  consent. 
Well  knowing  what  the  poets  meant ; 
And  in  their  sense,  twixt  me  and  you. 
It  may  be  literally  true. 

Next,  as  the  laws  of  verse  require. 
He  must  be  greater  than  his  sire ; 
For  Jove,  as  ^ery  school-boy  knows. 
Was  able  Saturn  to  depose  : 
And  sure  no  Christian  poet  breathing 
Would  be  more  scrupulous  than  a  heatiMn  f 
Or,  if  to  blasphemy  it  tends. 
That 's  but  a  trifle  among  friends. 

Your  hero  now  another  Mars  is. 
Makes  mighty  armies  turn  their  a«-« 
Behold  his  glittering  falchion  mow 
Whole  squadrons  at  a  single  blow; 
While  victory,  with  wings  outspread. 
Flies,  like  an  eagle,  o'er  his  head ; 
His  milk-white  steed  upon  its  haunches^ 
Or  pawing  into  dead  men's  paunches : 
As  Overton  has  drawn  his  sire. 
Still  seen  o'er  many  an  ale-house  fire. 
Then  from  his  arms  hoarse  thunder  rolls^ 
As  loud  as  fifty  mustard-bowls ; 
For  thunder  still  his  arm  supplies. 
And  lightning  a1wa5rs  in  his  eyes : 
They  both  are  cheap  enough  m  coosdence. 
And  serve  to  echo  rattling  nonsense. 
The  rumbling  wor6a  march  fierce  along, 
Mitde  trebly  dreiidful  in  your  song. 

Sweet  poet,  hir'd  for  birth -day  rhymet 
To  sing  of  wars,  choose  peaoefbl  times. 
What  though,  for  fifteen  year*  «nd  n»oc% 
Jwm  bad  W^'d  hit  temple^loor  ; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


DntECnONS  FOR  MAKING  A  BIRTH-DAY  SONG. 


Ml 


TlKm^  not  m  coAee-boiise  we  read  in 
Hsth  mentioned  aimf  od  this  side  Swedeq ; 
Kor  LoodoQ  joamals,  nor  the  postmen, 
Thoogfa  fond  of  warlike  lies  as  most  men ; 
Hioa  still  with  battles  stuff  thy  bead  fiill  t 
For,  most  thy  hero  not  be  drndfnl  ? 

Dismissing  Mars,  it  next  must  follow 
Tour  conqueror  is  become  Apollo  t 
That  he  's  Apollo  is  as  plain  as 
That  Robin  Walpole  is  Macenas ; 
But  that  he  struts,  and  that  he  squints. 
You  M  know  him  by  Apollo^  prints. 
Old  Phcebus  is  but  half  as  bright. 
For  yours  can  shine  both  day  and  night. 
The  ibst,  perhaps,  may  once  an  age 
Inspire  you  with  poetic  rage ; 
Your  PhoBbtts  royal,  erery  day. 
Not  only  can  inspire,  but  pay. 

Then  make  this  new  Apollo  sit 
Sole  patron,  judge,  and  god  of  wit. 
"  How  from  his  altitude  he  stoope 
To  raise  up  rirtue  when  she  droops ; 
On  learning  how  his  bounty  flows. 
And  with  what  justice  he  bestows : 
Fair  Isis,  and  ye  banks  of  Cam  1 
Be  witness  if  1  tell  a  flam. 
What  prodigies  in  arts  we  drain. 
From  both  your  streams,  in  George's  reign. 
As  from  the  flowery  bed  of  Nile" — 
But  here  's  enough  to  show  your  style. 
Broad  innuendos,  such  as  this, 
If  well  applied,  can  hardly  miss : 
For,  when  yon  bring  your  song  in  print. 
He  'U  get  it  read,  and  Uke  the  hint, 
(It  must  be  read  before  'tis  warbled. 
The  paper  gilt,  and  cover  marbled) 
And  will  be  so  much  more  your  debtor, 
Because  he  never  knew  a  letter; 
And,  as  be  hears  his  wit  and  sense 
(To  which  he  never  made  pretence) 
Set  out  in  hyperbolic  strains, 
A  guinea  shall  reward  your  pains  t 
For  patrons  never  pay  so  well. 
As  when  they  scarce  have  leamM  to  spell. 

Neact  call  him  Neptuna :  with  his  trident 
He  rules  the  sea ;  you  see  him  ride  in  't : 
And,  if  provokM,  he  soundly  firkK  his 
Kebellious  waves  with  tDds,  like  X<?r3ces. 
He  would  have  seiz'd  the  Spannth  plate. 
Had  not  the  fleet  gone  out  too  lute ; 
And  in  their  very  ports  bcsiejre  them. 
But  that  he  would  not  disoblige  them ; 
And  make  the  rascals  pay  him  dearly 
For  those  affironU  they  give  him  yearly. 
*Tis  not  denyM,  that,  when  we  write. 
Our  mk  is  black,  our  paper  white  ; 
And,  when  we  scrawl  our  paper  o*er. 
We  blacken  what  was  white  before : 
I  think  this  practice  only  fit 
For  dealers  in  satiric  wit. 
But  3rou  some  white-lead  ink  must  get. 
And  write  on  paper  black  as  jet  $ 
Your  interest  lies  to  learn  the  knack 
Of  whitenbg  what  before  was  black. 

Thus  your  encomium,  to  be  strong. 
Must  be  applied  directly  wrong. 
A  tyrant  for  his  mercy  prmse, 
And  enmn  m  foyal  duica  with  b^yt  i 
VOL.  XL 


A  squinting  monkey  load  with  charmf, 

And  paint  a  coward  fierce  in  arms. 

Is  he  to  avarice  inclined } 

Extol  him  for  his  generous  mitid : 

And,  when  we  starve  for  want  of  conc^ 

Come  out  with  Amalthea's  horn. 

For  all  experience  this  evinces 

The  only^  art  of  pleasing  princes : 

For  princes*  love  you  should  descant 

On  virtues  which  they  know  they  want. 

One  compUment  I  had  forgot. 

But  songsters  must  omit  it  not; 

I  freely  grant  the  thought  is  old : 

Why,  then,  your  hero  must  be  told. 

In  him  such  virtues  lie  inherent. 

To  qualify  hhn  God's  vicegerent  * 

That,  with  no  title  to  inherit. 

He  must  have  been  a  king  by  merit 

Yet,  be  thefhncy  old  or  new, 

'TIS  partly  false,  and  partly  true ; 

And,  take  it  right,  it  means  no  more 

Than  George  and  William  ckum'd  before. 

Should  some  obscure  inferior  fellow. 
Like  Julius,  or  the  youth  of  Pella, 
When  all  your  list  of  gods  is  out. 
Presume  to  show  his  mortal  snout. 
And  as  a  deity  intrude. 
Because  he  had  the  world  subdued ; 
Oh,  let  hira  not  debase  your  thoughts^ 
Or  name  him  but  to  tell  his  feults.— 

Of  gods  I  only  quote  the  best. 
But  you  may  hook-in  all  the  rest 

Now,  birth -day  bard,  with  joy  proceed. 
To  praise  your  empress  and  her  breed. 
First  of  the  first,  to  vouch  your  lies. 
Bring  all  the  females  of  the  skies ; 
The  Graces,  and  their  mistress  Venus, 
Must  venture  down  to  entertain  us : 
With  bended  knees  when  they  adore  her. 
What  dowdies  they  appear  before  her ! 
Nor  shall  we  think  you  talk  at  random. 
For  Venuff  might  be  her  great-grandam : 
Six  thousand  years  has  liv'd  the  goddess. 
Your  berome  hardly  fifty  odd  is. 
Besides,  your  songsters  oft  have  shown 
That  she  hath  graces  of  her  own  ; 
Three  graces  by  Lucina  brought  her, 
Jiut  three,  and  every  grace  a  daughter. 
Here  many  a  king  his  heart  and  crown 
Shall  at  their  snowy  feet  lay  down ; 
In  royal  robes,  they  come  by  dozens : 
To  court  their  English  German  cousins : 
Besides  a  pair  of  princely  babies. 
That,  five  years  hence,  will  both  be  Hebea. 

Now  see  her  seated  in  her  throne 
With  genuine  lustre,  all  her  own  : 
Poor  Cynthia  never  shone  so  bright. 
Her  splendour  u  but  borrowed  light; 
And  only  with  her  brother  linkt 
Can  shine,  without  him  is  extinct 
But  Carolina  shines  the  clearer 
With  neither  spouse  nor  brother  near  her; 
And  darts  her  beams  o'er  both  our  bles. 
Though  George  is  gone  a  thousand  mik^ 
Thus  Berecynthia  takes  her  placo^ 
Attended  by  her  heavenly  race ; 
And  sees  a  son  in  every  god, 
Unaw'd  by  Jove's  all-abaking  no^ 


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48S 


SWlFlTS  ^OfiMS. 


Now  sing  hit  littte  highness  FrctMy, 
Who  struts  like  any  king  already : 
With  80  much  beauty,  show  me  any  makt 
That  could  resist  this  charming  Ouiymede ! 
Where  majesty  with  sweetness  vies. 
And,  like  his  fether,  early  wise. 
Then  cut  him  out  a  world  of  work, 
To  conquer  S|>ain,  aird  quell  the  Turk : 
Foretel  his  empire  crowiiM  with  hays, 
And  golden  tiihes,  and  halcyon  days ; 
And  swear  his  line  shall  rale  the  nation 
For  ever — till  the  confiagratioiiw 

But,  now  it  comes  into  my  nimd. 
We  left  a  little  dtike  behind ; 
A  Cupid  in  his  &ce  and  sixe. 
And  only  wants  to  want  his  eyes. 
Make  some  provision  for  the  yomnker, 
Fmd  him  a  kingdbm  out  to  conquer : 
Prepare  a  fleet  to  waft  htm  6*eT, 
Make  Gulliver  his  commodore ; 
Into  whose  pocket  valiant  Willy  nut, 
Will  soon  subdue  the  reahn  of  Liiliput 

A  skilful  critic  jtMtly  blames 
Hard,  tough,  crank,  guttural,  hatih,  tttf  naai^ 
The  sense  can  ne'er  be  too, icjune, 
But  smooth  your  words  to  fit  the  tnoe. 
Hanover  may  do  well  enough, 
But  George  and  Branswick  are  too  rau^h : 
Hesse -Darmstadt  makes  a  rugged  sound. 
And  Guelp  the  strongest  ear  will  ^dniid. 
In  vain  are  all  attempts  from  Germany 
To  find  out  proper  Words  for  harmony : 
And  yet  I  must  etcept  the  Rhine,       •   ♦ 
Because  it  clinks  to  Caroline. 
Hail !  queen  of  Britain,  qtieen  of  rh3rnies  ! 
Be  sung  ten  hundred  £housahd  times ! 
Too  happy  werft  the  poets'  crew. 
If  their  own  happiness  they  knew : 
Three  syllables  did  never  meet 
So  soft,  so  sliding,  and  $o  sweet : 
Nine  other  tunefol  words  hlte  that 
Would  prove  ev*ii  Homer^s  numbers  iUt 
Behold  three  beanteons  \'Owels  stand. 
With  bridegroom  liquids,  hand  in  hand  ; 
In  concord  here  fbr  ever  fixt, 
No  jarring  consonant  betwixt 

May  Caroline  continue  long, 
For  ever  fair  and  young ! — in  song. 
What  though  the  royal  cai^case  mtBt^ 
Squeezed  in  a  coffin;  turn  to  dust  ? 
Those  elements  her  name  compoie. 
Like  atoms,  are  exempt  from  blows. 

Though  Caroline  may  fill  your  gapl. 
Yet  still  yon  must  consult  your  maps  % 
Find  rivers  with  lannonieos  names, 
Sebrina,  Medway,  and  the  Thamei^ 
Britannia  long  wiN  weat*  like  steel, 
^ut  Albion's  clifis  are  ont  at  heel ; 
And  patience  can  endure  no  more 
To  hear  the  Belgic  Hon  roar. 
Give  up  the  phrase  of  hanghty  Qtni 
But  proud  iberift  aomidly  maul : 
tUartore  the  slnps  l^  Philip  taken. 
And  make  him  crouch  to  save  his  tMUxni. 
Nassau,  who  got  the  name  of  glorioQt 
Because  he  never  was  wictorioas, 
A  hanger-on  haft  always  been ; 
For  old  acquajntinrfe  hriof  biia  in* 


To  Walpole  yoattSgM  lend«  IkiBt 
But  much  I  fmf  he  H  m  dteHne ; 
And,  if  you  chance  to  come  ton  Iste, 
When  he  goes  out,  you  share  his  fate. 
And  bear  the  new  snccessor's  froWn  i 
Or,  whom  you  once  samg  u^  sfag  dnwn* 

Reject  with  scum  that  stnjnd  netien. 
To, praise  your  hem  fcr  devotion  j 
Nor  entertain  a  thought  so  ddd, 
That  princes  shonld  befieve  in  God  $ 
Bnt  follow  the  securest  rule. 
And  turn  it  all  to  rMicole : 
Tis  grown  the  choieesi  wit  at  court. 
And  gives  the  matdi  of  honour  sport. 
For,  since  they  talfc'd  with  doctor  Clarfce, 
They  now  can  venture  hi  the  dark : 
That  sound  divine  the  troth  bath  ^loke  M^ 
And  pawn*d  his  word,  HeH  is  not  iacA 
This  will  not  give  them  half  the  tiunMm 
Of  bargains  sold,  or  mmmp  doaible. 

Supposing  now  yofar  song  is  ddnei 
To  mjrnheer  Handtel  tfext  you  ran. 
Who  artfully  will  pare  and  prone 
Your  words  to  some  Italian  tnne  s 
Then  print  it  in  the  largest  letter, 
With  capitals,  the  more  the  better* 
Present  it  boldly  on  yon  knee. 
And  take  a  gukiM  fbr  yonr  fiie. 


BOUTS  RIMES. 

OH-  SIGHOBA   DOMITflLA. 

Our  school-master  may  rave  i'  th'  fil 

Of  classic  beauty  hae  £f  iila. 
Not  all  his  birch  inspires  snch  wit 

As  th*  oglmg  beams  of  DomitiUa» 
Let  nobles  toast,  in  bright  chanipaiga> 

Nymphs  higher  bom  than  Doraitilla  ; 
I  Ml  drink  her  health,  agam,  again, 

In  Berkeley's  tar,  or  sars-p«ilbu 
At  Goodmans-fields  I  »ve  much  admired 

Tlie  postures  strange  of  monsieur  Brillt  $ 
But  what  aire  they  to  the  soft  step^ 

The  gliding  air,  of  Bomitilla  } 
Virgil  has  etemiz*d  m  song 

The  flying  footsteps  of  Oamilla  : 
iSure,  as  a  prophet,  he  was  wrong  ; 

He  might  have  dreamt  of  Domitilla. 
Great  Theodose  condemned  a  town 

For  thinking  ill  of  his  Plaoilla  ; 
And  deuce  take  London,  if  tome  kaIgM 

O'  th>  city  wed  DOtDbniitilllit 
Wheeler,  sir  George,  in  travel*  Iril6, 

Gives  us  a  medal  of  PlantiDa ; 
But,  oh  t  the  empress  has  n6t  eyesi. 

Nor  lips,  nor  bi«a8t,  like  Dcmiltllkf 
Not  aU  the  wealth  of  plander'd  Italy, 

PilM  on  the  iqnles  of  king  At-tila. 
Is  worth  one  glove  (I '11  not  tdl  a  bit  a  lia) 

Or  garter,  snatched  from  Domitilla* 
Five  years  a  nymph  at  ceitalo  hsriilM^ 

Y-cleped  Harrow  of  tbe  Hill,  «^ 
— bus'd  much  my  heart,  and  WM  li  i 

T»  rerse— hi^  BOW  for  DomitiUa. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


HELT£R  SKELTER, . . .  THE  LOGICIANS  REFUTED. 


481 


Daa  Pope  conaignfrBelmflft's  watcK 
To  tbe*fiiur  sylphid  Moinn)tiU««. 

And  thus  I  offer  up  my  catch 

To  th>  foow-white  bands  of  BomitilI«. 


HELTER   SKELTER; 

OR, 
««t    BSS    AIII^  CKY    ArrBR    THE    ATTOmXIBi, 
THEIR  RtDIMG  THE  CIRCUIT. 

Now  the  active  yoong  attornies 

Briskly  travel  on  their  joumies, 

LookiDg  big  as  any  giants. 

On  the  hones  of  their  clients  ; 

LBce  ao  many  little  Marses, 

MTith  their  Utters  at  their  a— «, 

Brazen-hilted«  lately  bomish'd ; 

And  with  hamess-bockles  fumi^'4» 

And  ^th  whips  and  spnrs  so  neat, 

And  with  jockey-coats  complete. 

And  with  boots  so  very  greasy. 

And  with  saddles  eke  to  easy; 

And  with  bridles  fine  and  gay. 

Bridles  borrowed  for  a  day ; 

Bridles  destin*d  lar  to  roam. 

Ah  !  nerer,  never  to  come  homeii 

And  with  hats  so  very  big,  sir; 

And  with  powder'd  caps  and  wigs,  sir ; 

And  with  ruffles  to  be  shown, 
Cuobric  raffles  not  thehr  own ; 

And  with  Holland  shirts  so  wHte, 

Shifts  becoming  to  the  sight, 

Shirts  be-wnm^t  with  diflferent  letters. 

As  belonging  to  their  betters ; 

With  their  pret^  thiselM  boxes, 
Oottcn  from  their  dainty  dosdes; 

And  .with  rings  so  very  trim. 
Lately  taken  out  of  Um-i^ 

And  with  very  little  pence. 
And  as  very  little  sense ; 
With  some  law,  but  little  jnstiet. 
Having  stolen  from  my  hostess. 
From  the  harber  anKl  the  cutler, 
like  the  soldier  from  the  sutler  ; 
From  the  vintner  and  the  tailor. 
Like- the  felon  from  the  jailer  ; 
Into  this  and  t'  other  county, 
Livhig  on  the  public  bounty ; 
Thorough  town  and  thorough  village. 
An  to  plunder,  all  to  pillage ; 
Thorough  mountains,  thorough  vallies, 
Hioroogh  stroking  lanes  and  alleys ; 
Some  to— kiss  with  formers'  spouses, 
And  make  merry  m  their  houses ; 
Sotot  to-*tumble  country  wenches 
On  their  rushy-beds  and  benches. 
And,  if  they  begin  a  fray, 
Dnw  their  swcNids,  aod-^iyi  away  ; 
All  to  murder  equity,  - 
And  10  tak«.a  dovble  lia  I 
Till  the  people  all  are  quiet. 
And  foi«0t  to  broil  and  riot: 
Low  inpodpet,  oow'd  in  cmtng^, 
Safely  glad  to  w^  their  porridflei 
And  vacatloa  *s  over— then, 
Hey,  for  X^ndon  tpwu«iM^ 


LOGICUNS  REFUTEIX 

LooiciAsis  have  but  ill  de6n*d. 

As  rational,  the  human-kind. 

"  Reason,"  they  say,  "  belongs  to  man  ;'' 

But  let  them  prove  it  if  they  can. 

Wise  Aristotle  and  Smiglesius, 

By  ratiocinations  specious. 

Have  strove  to  prove  with  great  prectsi99^ 

With  definition  and  division, 

Hcfttto  est  ratione  praditum  : 

But,  for  my  soul,  I  cannot  credit  'em. 

And  must,  in  spite  of  them  maintain. 

That  man  and  all  his  ways  are  vain  ; 

And  that  this  boasted  lord  of  nature 

Is  both  a  weak  and  erring  creature  ; 

That  instinct  is  a  surer  guide 

Than  reason-boasting  mortals'  pride ; 

And  that  brute  beasts  are  fer  before  'eai, 

Deut  est  amimJi  brutorum. 

Who  ever  knew  an  honest  brute 

At  Uw  his  neighbour  prosecute ; 

Bring  action  for  assault  and  battery. 

Or  friend  beguile  with  lies  and  flattery? 

O'er  plains  they  nmUe  unconfin'd. 

No  politics  disturb  their  mind ; 

They  eat  their  meals,  and  take  their  ^oit, 

Nor  know  who  's  in  or  out  at  court 

They  never  to  the  levee  go. 

To  treat  as  dearest  friend,  a  fee : 

They  never  importune  his  grace. 

Nor  ever  cringe  to  men  in  place  ; 

Nor  undertake  a  dirty- job, 

Nor  draw  the  quill  to  write  fer  Bob : 

Fhiught  with  invective  they  ne^r  go 

To  folks  at  Pater-noster-row. 

No  judges,  fiddlers,  dancing-masten^ 

No  pick-pockets,  or  poetasters. 

Are  known  to  honest  quadrupeds : 

No  smgle  brute  his  fellow  leads. 

Brutes  never  meet  in  bkMidy  finy. 

Nor  cut  each  other's  throats  for  ps^. 

Of  beasts,  it  is  confessed,  the  ape 

Comes  nearest  us  in  human  shape; 

Like  man,  he  imitates  each  feshkii^ 

And  malice  is  his  ruling  passion : 

But,  both  in  n»alice  and  grimaces^ 

A  coQitier  any  ape  surpasses : 

Behold  him  humbly  cringing  waifc 

Upon  a  minister  of  state ; 

View  him  soon  after  to  ivferiors 

Aping  the  conduct  of  superiors : 

He  promises  with  equal  air, 

And  to  perform  takes  equal  caraw 

He  in  his  turn  finds  imitators : 

At  court,  tiie  porters,  lacques,  waiters^ 

Their  masteia*  manner^  sUll  contract ; 

And  footmen  lords  and  dfdLes  can  acL 

Thus,  at  the  court,  both  great  aad  imaU 

Behave^jjke;  forall^pealL 


THE  PUPPET  SaOJK 

Ths  life  of  man  to  represent 

And  turn  it  all  lo  ri^ole. 
Wit  did  Apupptt-tkojn  inveni, 

Wlvne  the  chief  apt^  ^  ^  ivA 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


484 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


The  gods  of  old  were  logs  of  wood. 
And  worship  was  to  puppets  paid ; 

In  antic  dress  the  idol  stood. 
And  priest  end  people  bowM  the  beid. 

No  wonder  then,  if  art  began 

The  simple  votaries  to  frame. 
To  shape  in  timber  fuolish  man, 

And  consecrate  the  block  to  fame. 
Fh>m  hence  poetic  fimcy  learned 

That  trees  might  rise  from  human  forms, 
The  body  to  a  trunk  be  tum'd. 

And  branches  issue  from  the  arms. 

Thus  Daedalus  and  Orid  too, 

That  man  's  a  blockhead,  have  confe^t ; 
Powel  and  Stretch  i  the  hint  pursue; 
Life  is  a  fimce,  the  world  a  jest 
The  same  great  truth  South-Sea  <  hath  prov*d 

On  that  famM  theatre,  the  alletf ; 
Where  thousands,  by  directors  mov'd. 

Are  now  sad  monuments  of  folly. 
What  Momus  was  of  old  to  Jove, 

The  same  a  Harlequin  is  now  ; 
The  former  was  bt^oon  above. 

The  latter  is  a  Punch  below. 
This  fleeting  scene  is  but  a  stage. 

Where  various  images  appear ; 
In  different  parts  of  youth  and  age 

Alike  the  prince  and  peasant  share. 
Some  draw  our  eyes  by  being  great, 

False  pomp  conceals  mere  wood  within ; 
And  legislators  rangM  iu  state 

Are  oft*  but  wisdom  in  machine. 
A  stock  may  chance  to  wear  a  crown. 

And  timber  as  a  lord  take  place ; 
A  statue  may  put  on  a  frown. 

And  cheat  us  with  a  thinking  face. 

Others  are  blindly  led  away, 

And  made  to  act  for  ends  unknown  ; 
By  the  mere  spring  of  wires  they  play. 

And  speak  in  language  not  their  own. 
Too  oft  alas !  a  scoldmg  wife 

Usurps  a  jolly  fellow's  throne : 
And  many  drink  the  cup  of  Fife, 

Mix'd  and  embittered  by  a  Joan, 
In  short,  whatever  men  pursue. 

Of  pleasure,  folly,  war,  or  lovej 
This  mimic  race  brings  all  to  view  : 

Alike  they  dress,  they  talk,  they  mo/e. 
Go  on,  great  Stretch,  with  artful  hand. 

Mortals  to  please  and  to  deride ; 
And,  when  death  breaks  thy  vital  band. 

Thou  Shalt  pot  on  a  puppeVs  pride. 
Thou  Shalt  in  praiy  wood  be  shown, 

T*hy  image  shall  preserve  thy  Hme ; 
Ages  to  come  thy  worth  shall  own. 

Point  at  thy  limbs,  and  tell  thy  nam^ 
Tell  Tom,  he  draws  a  farce  in  vain, 

Before  he  looks  in  nature's  gloss  ; 
Puns  cannot  form  a  witty  scene. 

Nor  pedantry  for  humour  pass. 
To  make  men  act  as  senseless  wood/ 

And  chatter  in  a  mystic  strain, 

1  Two  famous  puppet-show  men. 

*  See  the  poem  on  the  South-dea/p.  414. 


Is  a  mere  foroe  oo  flesh  and  blood, 
And  shows  some  errour  m  the  bnoL 

He  that  would  thus  refine  on  thee. 
And  turn  thy  stage  into  a  school. 

The  jest  of  Punch  will  ever  be. 
And  stand  oonfest  the  greater  fboL 


THE  GRAND  QUESTION  DEBATED  9 

wHrmaa 

HAmLTOM's    SAWN     SHOOLD  St     TOtklD    UTTO  A 
SAIRACK   OR   A     MALT-HOUSB.       1729* 

Tovs  spoke  to  my  lady  the  knigbt  i  full  of  care : 
**  Let  me  have  your  advice  in  a  weighty  atfiur. 
This  Hamilton's  bawn  <,  whilst  it  sti^  on  my  hMadf^ 
I  lose  by  the  house  what  I  get  by  the  land  ; 
But  how  to  dispose  of  it  to  the  best  bidder. 
For  a  barrack  ^  or  wtaU-house,  we  now  must  consider* 

*'  First,  let  me  suppose  I  make  it  a  mait-koust. 
Here  I  have  comnuted  the  profit  will  foil  t*  us; 
There's  nine  hundred  pounds  for  labour  and  grah^ 
I  increase  it  to  twelve,  so  three  hundred  remain; 
A  handsome  addition  for  wine  and  good  cheer. 
Three  difhes  a  day,  and  three  hogrtieads  a  year : 
With  a  dozen  large  vessels  my  vault  shall  be  stor'd  ; 
No  little  scrub  joint  shall  come  on  my  board  ; 
And  you  and  the  dean  no  more  sba|l  combine 
To  litint  me  at  night  to  one  bottle  of  wine; 
Nor  shall  I,  for  his  hnmour,  permit  you  to  purloin 
A  stone  and  a  quarter  of  beef  from  my  surkNn. 
If  1  make  it  a  barrack,  the  crown  is  my  tenant ! 
My  dear,  I  have  ponder^  again  and  again  on  H : 
In  poundage  and  drawbacks  I  lose  half  my  rent; 
Whatever  they  give  me,  I  must  be  content. 
Or  join  with  the  court  in  every  debate ; 
And  rather  than  that,  I  would  lose  my  estate." 
Thus  ended  the  knight ;  thus  began  his  meek  wife  : 
**  It  must,  and  it  shall  be  a  barrack,  my  life. 
I  'm  grown  a  mere  mopus ;  no  company  comes. 
But  a  rabble  of  tefiants,  and  rusty  dull  Rums  ^, 
With  parsons  what  lady  can  keep  herself  clean  } 
I  'm  all  over  daub'd  when  I  sit  by  the  dean. 
But  if  you  will  give  us  a  barrack,  my  dear. 
The  captain,  I  *m  sure,  will  always  come  here; 
I  then  shall  not  value  his  deanihip  a  straw. 
For  the  captain,  1  warrant,  will  keep  him  in  awe; 
Or  should  he  pretend  to  be  brisk  and  alert. 
Will  tell  him  that  chaplains  should  ix>t  be  so  pert ; 
That  men  of  his  coat  should  be  minding  their  prayers. 
And  not  among  ladies  to  give  themselves  airs." 

Thus  argued  ray  lady,  but  argued  in  vain  ; 
The  knight  his  opinion  resolv'd  to  maintain. 

But  Hannah  \  who  listened  to  all  that  was  past. 
And  could  not  endure  so  vulgar  a  taste, 

>  Sir  Arthur  Acheson,  at  whose  seat  this  was 
written. 

s  A  large  old  house,  two  miles  fhm  -sir  Arthor^ 
seat    F, 

^  The  anhy  in  Ireland  is  lodged  in  strong  bofld* 
mgs,  over  the  whole  kingdom,  called  barmcka,    F, 

*  A  cant  word  in  Ireland  for  a  poor  country  der* 
gyinan.    E, 

*Mjlady^waiting*«oinnb    #1 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


HAMILTON'S  BAWN. 


4S5 


As  SOM  IS  ber  ladyship  calPd  to  be  drest, 
Cry'd,  "  Madam,  why  surely  ray  master 's  poisesC 
Sue  Aithnr  the  maltster  !  how  doe  it  will  sound ! 
I  'd  rather  the  baxpn  were  sunk  under  gntond. 
But  madam,  I  gness'd  there  would  never  come  good. 
When  I  saw  him  so  often  with  Darby  and  Wood  ^. 
And  now  my  dream  's  out ;  for  I  was  a  dreamed 
That  I  saw  a  huge  rat^— O  dear,  how  I  screamed  ! 
And  after,  metbought,  I  had  lost  my  new  shoes ; 
And  Molly,  she  said,  I  should  hear  some  ill  news. 
'*  Dear  madam,  had- yon  but  the  spirit  to  tease, 
You  might  have  a  barraek  whenever  you  (dease : 
And,  madam,  I  always  believ'd  you  so  stout, 
That  for  twenty  denials  yon  woirid  not  give  out 
If  I  had  a  husband  like  him,  I  ptrtest, 
Till  he  giive  me  my  will,  I  would  give  him  no  resf ; 
And,  rather  than  come  in  the  same  pair  of  sheets 
With  such  a  cross  man,  I  would  lie  in  the  streets ; 
But,  madam,  I  beg  joa  contrive  and  invent. 
And  worry  him  out,  till  he  gives  his  consent. 
Dear  madam,  whene'er  of  a  barraek  I  think, 
An  1  were  to  be  hang*d,  I  can't  sleep  a  wink : 
For  if  a  new  crotehet  comes  into  my  bram, 
I  cant  get  it  out,  though  I  'd  never  so  fain, 
I  fancy  already  a  barrack  contrived 
At  Hamilton's  bawn,  and  the  troop  is  arrivM  | 
Of  this  to  be  sure  sir  Arthur  has  warning, 
And  waits  on  the  captain  betimes  the  next  morning. 
Now  see,  when  they  meet,  how  their  hououre  behave : 
'  Noble  captain,  your  servant'—'  sir  Arthur,  your 

slave; 
YoQ  honour  me  much'*-'  The  honour  is  mine.'— 
«  Twaa  a  sad  rainy  night'—*  But  the  morning  is 
fine.' 

•  Pray  bow  does  my  lady  ?'— *  My  wife  's  at  your 

■ervice.'— 

•  I  think  I  have  seen  her  piotnre  by  Jervas.' — 

'  Good  morrow,  good  captain.     1  '11  wait  on  jrou 

down.'—  [clown:' 

'  You  sha'nt  stir  a  foot*—'  You  'U  think  me  a 

•  For  all  the  world,  captain—'  *  Not  half  an  inch 

farther.'—  [Arthur ! 

»  You    must  be  obey'd ! '— '  Your   servant,   sir 
My  humble  respects  to  my  lady  unknown.' — 
'  1  hope  you  will  use  my  house  as  your  own.' 

"  Go  bring  me  my  smock ,  and  leave  off  your  prate. 
Thou  hast  certainly  gotten  a  cup  in  thy  pate." 

"  Pray,  madam,  be  quiet;  what  was  it  I  said  } 
You  had  like  to  have  put  it  quite  out  of  my  bead. 
Neact  day,  to  be  sure,  the  captain  will  come, 
At  the  head  of  his  troops,  with  trumpet  and  drum. 
Now,  madam,  observe  how  he  marches  in  state : 
The  man  with  the  kettle-dram  enters  the  gate : 
Dub,  dub,  adub,  dub.    The  trumpeters  follow, 
Tantara,  tantara ;  while  all  the  bo3rs  holfow. 
See  now  comes  the  captain  all  daub'd  with  gold  lace : 
O  U I  the  sweet  gentleman !  look  in  his  face ; 
And  see  how  he  rides  like  a  lord  of  the  land, 
With  the  fine  flaming  sword  that  he  holds  in  his  hand ; 
And  his  hors^  the  dear  creter,  it  prances  and  nsars ; 
With  ribbons  in  knots  at  its  tail  and  its  ears : 
At  last  comes  the  troop  by  the  word  of  command. 
Drawn  up  in  our  court;  when  the  captain  cries. 
Your  ladyship  lifts  up  the  sash  to  be  seen  [Stamo  ! 
(For  sure  I  had  dit€n*d  you  out  like  a  queen). 
The  captam,  to  show  he  is  proud  of  the  favour. 
Looks  up  to  your  window,  and  cocks  up  his  beaver 

*  Two  of  sir  Arthur's  managers.    M 


(His  beaver  is  cock'd ;  pray,  madam,  mark  that. 
For  a  captain  of  horse  ne\'er  takes  off  his  hat. 
Because  he  has  never  a  hand  that  is  idle;  [bridle.) 
For  the  right  holds  the  sword,  and  the  left  holds  th« 
Then  flourishes  thrice  his  sword  in  the  air. 
As  a  complimeut  due  to  a  lady  so  fair ; 
(How  I  tremble  to  think  of  the  blood  it  hath  spilt;) 
Then  he  lowers  down  the  point,  and  kiiues  the  hilt 
Your  ladyship  smiles,  and  thus  you  begin  : 
'  Pray,  captain,  be  pleas'd  to  alight  and  walk  hi.' 
The  captain  salutes^ou  with  congee  profound. 
And  your  ladyship  curtsies  half  way  to  the  ground. 
"  '  Kit,  run  to  your  master,  and  bid  him  come  to  us ; 
1  'm  sure  he  '11  be  proud  of  the  honour  you  do  us. 
And,  captain,  you  'II  do  us  the  favour  tor  stay. 
And  take  a  short  dinnerhere  with  us  to-day : 
You  're  heartily  welcome ;  but  as  for  good  cheer^ 
You  come  m  the  very  worst  time  of  the  year : 
If  I  had  expected  so  worthy  a  guest — ' 
"  '  Lord  !  madam  !  your  ladyship  sure  b  in  jest : 
You  banter  me,  madam;  the  kingdom  must  grant— ' 
'  Yon  officers,  captain,  are  so  complaisant !'" 

**  Hist,  hussy,  I  thmk  I  hear  somebody  coming—" 
"  No,  madam ;  'tis  only  sir  Arthur  a-hmnming. 
To  shorten  my  tale  (for  I  bate  a  long  story), 
The  captain  at  dinner  appears  in  his  glory ; 
The  dean  and  the  doctor  "^  have  humbled  their  pride. 
For  the  captain  's  entreated  to  sit  by  your  skle ; 
And,  because  he  's  their  betters,  you  carve  for  him 
The  parsons  for  envy  are  ready  to  burst        [firit; 
The  servants  amas'd  are  scarce  ever  able 
To  keep  off  their  eyes,  as  they  wait  at  the  table  ; 
And  Molly  and  I  have  thrust  in  our  nose 
To  peep  at  the  captam  all  in  his  fine  clones. 
Dear  madam,  be  sure  he  's  a  fine-spoken  man, 
Do  but  bear  on  the  clergy  how  glib  his  tongue  ran ; 
*  And,  madam,'  says  he,  *  if  such  dinners  you  give. 
You  '11  ne'er  want  for  parsons  as  long  as  you  live. 
I  ne'er  knew  a  parson  without  a  good  nose ; 
But  the  Devil 's  as  welcome  wherever  he  goes : 
G —  d — n  me !  they  bid  us  reform  and  repent. 
But,  z — s !  by  their  looks  they  never  keep  Lent 
Mister  £urate,  for  all  your  grave  kx>ks,  I  'm  afraid 
You  cast  a  sheep's  eye  on  her  ladyship's  maid : 
I  wish  fihe  would  lend  you  her  pretty  white  hand 
In  mending  yuur  cassoc,  and  smoothing  your  band. 
(For  the  dean  was  so  shabby,  and  look'd  tike  a  ninny. 
That  the  oaptain  supposed  he  was  curate  to  Jinny). 
Whenever  you  see  a  cassoc  and  gown, 
A  hnndreU  to  one  but  it  covers  a  clown. 
Observe  how  a  parson  comes  into  a  room  ; 
0 — d — n  me  !  be  hobbles  as  bnd  as  my  groom  ; 
A  scholard,  when  jiut  from  his  college  broke  loose. 
Can  hardly  tell  how  to  cry  6o  to  a  goose ; 
Your  Noveds,  and  Bluturch,  and  Omurs  *,  andstufl^ 
By  G—* ,  tlwy  don't  signify  this  pinch  of  tnuS, 
To  give  a  young  {gentleman  right  education. 
The  army  *s  the  only  good  school  in  the  nation : 
My  school-master  callM  me  a  dunce  and  a  fool. 
But  at  cufis  I  was  always  the  cock  of  the  school ; 
I  never  could  take  to  my  book  for  the  blood  o'  me. 
And  the  puppy  confessed  be  expected  no  good  o*  me* 
He  caught  me  one  morning  coquetting  his  wife  ; 
But  he  maul'd  me,  1  ne'er  was  so  maul'din  my  life  a 
So  I  took  to  the  road,  and  what  *s  very  odd. 
The  first  man  I  robb'd  was  a  parson,  by  G — » 

"^  Dr.  Jinny,  a  clergyman  in  the  neighbourhood.  JP 
*  Ovids,  Pltttarchs,  Homers. 


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4«d 


SWIFTS  WBMS. 


Jlow,  madam,  you  H\  tbhik  it  a  strange  thing  to  ear, 
^jfeut  the  sight  of  a  book  makes  me  sick  to  this  day.' 
**  Never  since  I  was  born  did  1  hear  so  mncli  wit. 
And,  madam,  I  laugh 'd  till  I  thought  I  should  split. 
&>  then  ydu  look'd  scornful,  and  ^ift  at  the  dean. 
As  who  should  say.  Now,  dm  I  skinny  and  lean  f  * 
But  he  durst  not  so  much  as  once  open  bis  lips. 
And  tlie  doc:x)r  was  plagaily  down  in  the  hips*" 
Thus  merciless  Hannah  ran  on  in  her  talk,  [walk  ?'* 
Till  she  heard  the  dean  call,  "  Will  your  ladyship 
Her  ladyship  answers,  "  I  *m  ^ust  coming  down  :*' 
Then,  turning  to  Hannah,  and  forcing  a  frown. 
Although  it  was  plain  in  her  heart  she  was  glad, 
CryM,  "  Hussy,  why  sure  the  wench  is  gone  mad  ! 
Mow  could  these  chimera*  get  into  yoqr  brains  ?— 
Come  hither,  and  take  this  old  gown  for  your  pains. 
But  the  dean,  if  this  secret  shoirid  come  to  his  ears^ 
Will  never  have  done  with  his  gibes  and  his  jeers : 
For  your  life,  not  a  word  of  the  matter,  I  charge  ye : 
Gire  me  hat  a  barrack,  a  fig  for  the  cUrgyJ** 


To  DEAN  SVrifT. 


It  in  AKTHua  AcaisoK. 


Goon  came  have  I  to  sing  and  vapoury' 
^or  I  am  landlord  to  the  Drapier :   ^ 
He  that  of  every  ear  's  the  charmer. 
Now  condescends  to  be  my  farmer, 
And  grace  my  villa  with  his  strains. 
Ijves  sueb  a  b«rd  on  British  plaint  ? 
Ko;  not  in  all  the  British  oouit ; 
For  none  but  witlings  there  resort. 
Whose  names  and  wortfis  (though  dead)  are 
Immortal  by  the  Punciad ; 
And,  sure  as  monument  of  brass. 
Then'  fame  to  futnre  times  shall  pass. 
How,  with  a  weakly  warbling  tot^ej 
Of  brazen  knight  they  i*ainly  sung: 
A  sdhject  for  their  genius  fit ; 
He  dares  defy  both  sense  and  wit. 
What  dares  be  not  ?  He  can,  we  know  it, 
A  laureat  make  that  is  no  poet ; 
A  judge,  without  the  least  pretence 
To  common  law ;  or  common  sense ; 
A  bishop  that  is  no  divine ; 
And  coxcombs  in  red  ribbons  shine  ; 
Nay,  he  can  make,  what  »s  greater  for, 
A  middle-state  twixt  peace  and  war ; 
And  say,  there  shall,  for  years  together, 
Be  peace  and  war;  and  both,  and  neither, 
llappy,  O  Market-hill  1  at  least, 
That  coort  and  courtiers  have  no  taste : 
You  never  else  had  known  the  dean. 
But,  as  of  old,  obscurely  lain ; 
All  things  gone  on  the  same  dull  track. 
And  Drapier's-hill  *  been  still  Drumlack; 
But  now  yoar  name  with  Penshurst  vies. 
And  wmg'd  with  fkme  shall  reach  the  sides* 


9  Nick-names  for  my  lady. 

1  The  dean  gave  this  name  to  a  form  called 
l)rum!ack,  which  he  rent^  of  sh-  Arthur  Achestn, 
ythote  seat  lay  between  that  and  Market-hill ;  and 
nktended  to  bmld  an  house  npoo  H,  but  aftenrarda 
ehfttged  hit  Bind*    F* 


BRAPmm  ntLL 


\Vt  give  ihe  world  to  understand. 
Our  tfarivmg  ^ean  has  purdiaaM  land  i 
A  purchase  which  will  bring  hhn  oleair 
Above  hb  rent  four  pounds  a  year-; 
Provided,  to  ittprove  the  grmmd. 
He  will  but  add  two  hundred  pQ«nd} 
And,  from  his  endless  hoarded  store. 
To  build  a  honae,  Ave  hundred  mofOb 
Siir  Arthur  too  shall  have  hit  will, 
And  call  the  manaon  Dr^erVhiH : 
That,  when  a  nation,  long  en8lav*d. 
Forgets  by  whom  it  once  was  sav'd ; 
When  none  the  Df»pier*t  praise  shall  magi 
His  signs  aloft  no  longer  swrog; 
His  medals  and  hit  printt  foigo^ten; 
And  all  hit  handkerchiefo  >  are  rotten; 
His  fomout  letters  made  waale-paper ; 
Thia  hill  may  keep  the  name  of  JDrapieri 
In  spite  of  envy,  flourish  still, 
And  Drapier^t  via  with  Cooper't  hiU« 


THE  DEAN'S  REASONS 
fcm  voT  •niUDino  at  ittA?m'8-niak 

I  wiLt  not  build  on  jronder  mount : 
And,  should  you  call  me  to  aodouat, 
Consultrog  with  mytdf  I  find 
It  wite  no  levity  of  mmd. 
Whate'er  I  prosUt'd  or  intoided. 
No  foult  of  mine,  the  tcheme  it  ended  2 
Nor  ean  3roa  tax  me  at  untteady, 
I  have  a  hundred  canaet  ready ; 
,  AH  riten  tmoe  that  flattering  time, 
*When  Drapier's-hill  appeared  in  rhj^me* 

I  am,  at  now  too  lata  I  find, 
The  greatest  cully  of  mankind : 
The  lowest  boy  in  Martm's  school 
May  turn  and  wind  me  like  a  fool. 
How  could  I  form  so  wild  a  vision. 
To  s6ek,  in  deserts,  fields  Elysian? 
To  live  in  fear,  suspicion,  variance. 
With  thieves,  fonatics,  aiMl  barbarians  t 

But  here  my  lady  will  object : 
'*  Your  deanship  ought  to  recolleot. 
That,  near  the  knight  of  Ootford  ptooVl^. 
Whom  you  allow  a  man  of  tasit. 
Your  intervab  of  time  to  spend 
With  so  conversable  a  friend. 
It  would  not  signify  a  pin 
Whatever  climate  you  were  in." 

nrit  true,  but  what  advantage  oomta 
To  me  ftom  all  a  nturer't  plumt ; 
Though  I  should  tee  him  twioe  a  da|c» 
And  am  hb  nei^bour  croas  the  waji 
If  all  my  rhetoric  matt  foil 
To  strike  lam  for  a  pot  of  A  } 

Thut,  when  the  leanied  and  the  vrita 
Gonceal  ^r  talentt  firam  oar  eyet. 
And  from  deterring  friands  with-lioid 
Their  gifts,  at  nisan  do  tbaftr  fold  ; 

>  Medalt  were  cut,  nany-vlKitt  hitDtg  np,  ^uA 
handkerchiefii  made  with  devices  in  honour  of  tha 
dean,  under  the  ittine  of  M.  B.  -Dfipier.    F. 


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A  PANEGYRIC  ON  THE  DEAN. 


*^ 


Their  knowledge  to  tbetnielves  eonfia'd 
Is  the  same  avarice  of  mind ;     ' 
^or  makes  their  conversation  better, 
Than  if  they  nerer  knew  a  letter. 
Such  is  the  iate  of  Oosfofd^s  knight, 
•ItVho  keeps  his  wisdom  out  of  sight ; 
y^oee  uncommunicatiTe  heart 
\¥iil  scarce  one  precious  word  impart : 
Still  rapt  in  speculations  deep, 
His  outward  senses  &st  asleep; 
,  'Who,  while  I  talk,  a  song  will  hum. 
Or,  with  his  fingers,  beat  the  drum  | 
.Beyond  the  skies  transports  his  mind. 
And  leaves  a  lifeless  corpse  behind. 

But,  as  tot  me,  who  ne*er  could  clamber  high. 
To  understand  Malebrancha  or  Cambiay  ; 
"Who  send  my  miad  (as  I  believe)  tess 
Than  others  do,  on  errands  sleeveless  ; 
Can  listen  to  a  tale  humdrum, 
And  with  attention  tead  Tom  Thumb  ; 
My  spurits  with  my  body  progging, 
X(ih  band  in  band  together  jogging ; 
Sunk  over  head  and  ears  in  matter, 
Kor  can  of  metaphysioi  smatter  ; 
Am  more  diverted  with  a  qnihbla, 
Tlian  dream  of  worlds  intelligible ; 
And  think  all  notions  too  abstracted 
Are  lik^  the  ravings  of  a  crackt  head  ; 
What  interooorae  of  minds  can  be 
Betwixt  the  knight  sublime  and  me. 
If  when  I  talk,  as  talk  I  must. 
It  is  but  prating  to  a  bust  ? 

Where  friendship  is  by  fistedesigB'd, 
It  forms  an  union  m  the  mind : 
But  here  1  difisr  fnm  the  knight 
In  every  point,  hke  black  and  white: 
For  none  can  say  that  ever  yet 
We  both  in  one  opinion  met; 
Not  tn  philosophy,  or  ale ; 
In  state  afiairs,  or  planting  cale; 
In  rhetoric,  or  pidung  straws ; 
In  roas^g  larks,  or  making  laws  ; 
In  public  schemes,  or  catching  flies  ; 
In  parliaments,  or  pudding-pies» 

The  neighbours  wonder  why  the  knight 
Should  in  a  country  Ufe  delight. 
Who  not  one  pleasure  entertains 
To  cheer  the  solitary  scenes : 
His  guests  are  f(^w,  his  visits  rare; 
Nor  uses  time,  nor  time  will  spare ; 
Nor  rides,  nor  walks,  nor  hunts,  nor  fowls. 
Nor  plays  at  cards,  or  dice,  or  bowb  j 
But,  seaiked  in  an  easy  chair, 
Be^Nses  exescise  and  air. 
His  rural  walks  he  ne^  adonis : 
Here  poor  Pomooa-siti  on  thorns  ; 
And  there  neglected  Flora  settles 
Her  bom  upon  a  bed  of  nettles. 

Those  thankless  and  officious  cares 
I  Qs'd  to  take  in  friends  affUrs, 
From  which  I  never  could  refrain. 
And  have  been  often  chid  m  vain  ; 
From  these  1  am  reoover'd  quite. 
At  least  in  wbat  r^rds  the  km'ght 
y  reset  ye  his  health,  his  store  uicrease ; 
May  nothing  interrupt  his  peace  ! 
Bttt  how  let  all  his  tenants  round 
^ffbrt  fliak  hit  oows,  and  afttr,  Jpona^ 


Let  every  cotteger  copspire 
To  cut  his  hedges  down  for  fire : 
The  naughty  boys  about  the  villaj^ 
His  crabs  and  sloes  may  freely  piling? : 
He  still  may  keep  a  pack  of  knaves 
To  spoil  bis  work,  and  w<»k  by  halves  x 
His  meadows  may  be  dug  by  swine. 
It  shall  be  no  concern  of  mine. 
For  why  shoujd  I  continue  still 
To  serve  a  friend  against  his  will } 


A  PANEGYRIC  ON  TIUS  fXBAN, 

IK  THE  PBaSON  OP  A   LADY   W  TBI  KOITH  '.      1730. 

Resolv'd  my  gratitude  to  show, 

Thrice  reverend  dean,  fiMrall  I  ore. 

Too  long  I  have  my  thanks  delayed. 

Your  favours  left  too  long  unpaid  ; 

But  now,  in  all  our  sex's  Jfmme, 

My  artless  Muse  shall  sing  your  ftme. 
Indulgent  you  to  fiemale  kind. 

To  all  their  w|»ker  sides  are  blind ; 

Nine  more  such  champions  as  the  dean 

Would  soon  restore  our  ancient  reiga. 

How  well,  to  win  the  ladies*  hearts. 

You  celebrate  their  wit  and  parts ! 

How  have  I  felt  my  spirits  rais*d. 

By  you  so  oft,  so  highly  praisM ! 

Transformed  by  your  ooovineing  toogna 

To  witty,  beao^ttl,  and  youqg,  ' 

I  hope  to  quit  that  aukwaid  shame, 

Aflected  by  each  vulgar  dame. 
To  modesty  a  weak  pretence ; 
And  icon  grow  pert  on  men  cf  sense  ; 
To  dkow  my  fiuse  with  scornful  air; 
Let  others  mateh  it,  if  they  dare. 

Impatient  to  be  out  of  debt,  ^ 

Oh,  may  I  never  once  foiget 
The  bard  who  humbly  deigns  to  chnse ' 
Me  for  the  sutject  of  his  Muse  I 
Behhid  my  back,  before  my  nose. 
He  sounds  my  praise  m  verse  and  prose. 

My  heart  with  emolatian  btoms 
To  inake  3rou  suitable  returns : 
My  gratitode  the  worki  shall  know  ^ 
And  see,  the  printer's  boy  below; 
Ye  hawkers  sill,  your  voices  lift  | 
•*  A  Panegyric  on  dean  Swift  l*» 
And  then,  to  mend  the  matter  stalls 
«  By  lady  Anne  of  Market^rill." 

I  thus  begin:  my  grateful  Muse 
Salutes  the  dean  in  different  views; 
Dean,  butler,  usher,  jester,  tutor  ; 
Robert  and  Darby's  2  coadjutor  : 
And,  as  yon  in  oommiasion  sit. 
To  rale  the  dahy  next  to  Kit  9. 

In  each  cqmoity  I  mean 
To  sing  your  praise^    And  first  as  dean: 
Envy  must  own,  you  understand  your 
Precedence,  and  support  your  grandeor  ; 
Nor  of  your  ntk  will  bate  an  ace. 
Except  to  give  dean  Daniel  plaoe. 

1  The  lady  of  sir  Arthur  Aebesoo. 
<  The  names  of  two  oveneerfc 
>  My  lady's  footman. 


Digitized 


by  Goo^e 


488 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


In  yoa  sach  cHgn!ty  appears; 
80  suited  to  your  state  and  yean ! 
With  ladies  what  a  strict  decorum ! 
With  what  devotion  you  adore  'em ! 
Treat  me  with  so  much  complaisance, 
As  fits  a  princess  in  romance  ! 
By  your  eicample  and  asastance, 
lie  fellows  learn  to  know  their  distance. 
Sh*  Arthur,  since  you  set  the  pattern, 
Ko  longer  calls  me  tnipe  and  slattern  f 
Kor  dares  he,  though  he  were  a  duke. 
Offend  me  with  the  least  rebuke. 

Proceed  we  to  your  preaching  «  next ; 
How  nice  you  split  the  hardest  text  1 
How  your  superior  learning  shines 
Above  our  neighbouring  dull  divines  ! 
At  Beggars*  Opera  not  so  full  pit 
Is  seen,  as  when  you  mount  our  pulpit 

Consider  now  your  conversation : 
Begardful  of  your  age  and  station. 
You  ne*er  was  known,  by  passion  stirT'd, 
To  give  the  Jeast  ofiensive  word ; 
But  still,  whene'er  you  silence  break. 
Watch  every  syllable  you  ^leak :    ^ 
Your  style  ao  clear,  and  ao  concise. 
We  never  ask  to  hear  you  twice. 
But  then,  a  parson  so  genteel. 
So  nicely  cisul  fcom  head  to  heel ; 
80  fine  a  gown,  a  band  so  dean. 
As  well  become  St  Patrick's  deai^ 
Such  reverential  awe  express,  . 

That  cow-boys  know  you  by  jronr  dresa ! 
Then,  if  our  neighbouring  friends  come  hare. 
Bow  proud  are  we  when  you  appear. 
With  such  address  and  graceful  port. 
As  clearly  shows  you  bred  at  court ! 
Now  raise  your  spirits,  Mr.  Dean, 
^  I  l^id  you  to  a  nobler  scene. 
When  to  the  vault  ycm  walk  in  state. 
In  quality  of  butler' i-ntate  ; 
You  next  to  Dennis  *  bear  the  sway : 
To  you  we  often  trust  the  key : 
Nor  can  he  judge  with  all  bis  art 
So  well,  what  bottle  holds  a  quart ; 
What  pints  may  best  for  botUes  pass. 
Just  to  give  every  man  his  glaa; 
When  proper  to  produce  the  best. 
And  what  may  serve  a  common  guest 
With  Dennis  you  did  ne'er  combine. 
Not  you,  to  steal  your  master's  wine  9 
Except  a  bottle  now  and  then, 
To  welcome  brother  servmg-men  t 
But  that  is  with  a  good  d^gn, 
To  drink  sir  Arthur's  health  and  mine  ; 
Your  master^s  honour  to  maintain. 
And  get  the  like  returns  again. 

Your  usher**  ^  post  must  next  be  handled : 
How  bless'd  am  I  by  such  a  man  led  ! 
Under  whose  wise  and  careful  guardship 
I  now  despise  fetigue  and  hardship : 
Familiar  grown  to  dirt  and  wet. 
Though  daggled  round,  I  scorn  to  fret  i 
From  you  my  chamber-damsels  learn 
My  broken  hoie  to  patch  and  deam. 

^  The  author  preached  bat  once  while  he 
there.    F. 

*  The  butler. 

*  Ht  fometimet  oMd  to  walk  with  the  lady. 


Now  as  Kjetter  I  acodt  yoa ; 
Which  never  yet  one  friend  has  loit  yov# 
You  judge  so  nicely  to  a  hair. 
How  far  to  go,  and  when  to  spare  ; 
By  long  experience  grown  so  wise^ 
Of  every  taste  to  know  the  size ; 
There  's  none  so  ignorant  or  wmdc 
To  take  ofience  at  what  you  speak  '^* 
Whene'er  you  joke,  'tiaall  a  case 
Whether  with  Dermot,  or  his  grace; 
With  Teague  O'Murpbey,  or  an  earl; 
A  dutchesSy  or  a  kitchen^rl. 
With  such  dexterity  you  fit 
Their  several  talents  with  your  wit. 
That  Moll  the  chamber-maid  can  smoke^ 
And  Oahagan  ^  take  every  joke. 

I  now  become  your  humble  suitor 
To  let  me  praise  you  as  my  tutor  K 
Poor  I,  a  savage  bred  and  bom. 
By  you  instru^ed  every  mom. 
Already  have  improv'd  so  well. 
That  I  have  almost  learnt  to  ^ell : 
The  neighbours  who  come  here  to  dine^ 
Admire  to  hear  me  speak  aojine. 

How  enviously  the  ladies  look. 
When  they  surprise  me  at  my  book ! 

And  sure  as  they  're  alive  at  night. 

As  soon  as  gone  will  show  their  spite: 

**  Good  lord !  what  can  my  lady  meaa^ 

Conversing  with  that  rusty  Dean  ! 

She  's  grown  so  nice,  and  ao  penurious. 

With  Socrates  and  Epicurius. 

How  could  9he  sit  the  live-long  day, 

Yet  never  ask  us  once  to  play  ?" 
But  I  admire  your  patience  most ; 

That  when  I  *m  duller  than  a  post. 

Nor  can  the  plabest  word  pronounce. 

You  neither  fume,  nor  fret,  nor  flounce  ( 

Are  so  indulgent,  and  ao  mild. 

As  if  I  were  a  darling  ehikL 

So  gfentle  in  your  whole  proceeding, 

That  I  could  spend  my  life  in  reading. 
You  merit  new  employments  daily : 

Our  thatcher,  ditc)ier,  gardener,  baily. 

And  to  a  genius  sa  extensive 

No  work  is  grievous  or  oflfensrre ; 

Whether  your  fruitful  fancy  lies 

To  make  for  pigs  convenient  styes ; 

Or  ponder  long  with  anxious  thought 

To  banish  rats  that  haunt  our  vault : 

Nor  have  you  grumbled,  reverend  dea% 

To  keep  otir  poultiy  sweet  and  dean ;  ' 

To  sweep  the  mansion-bouse  t|iey  dwell  in. 

And  cure  the  rank  unsavory  smelling. 
Kow  enter  as  the  dairy  hand-maid ; 

Such  charming  butter  10  never  man  made. 

Let  others  with  faiuitic  Cue  . 

Talk  of  their  milk  for  kthes  qf  grace  ; 
» 

''  The  neighbouring  ladies  were  no  great  under- 
standers  of  raillery.    F, 

8  The  clown  that  cut  down  the  old  thorn  at  Mar> 
ket^hill.    See  above,  p.  463. 

9  In  bad  weather  the  author  used  to  direct  my 
lady  in  her  reading.    J*. 

10  A  way  of  making  butter  for  breakf«8t»by  fflU 
ing  a  bottle  with  cream,  and  ih|Juoc  it  tiU  the 
butter  oomei    F. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


A  PANEGYRIC  ON  THB  DEAN. 


4»d 


Vv0M  few  tbrar  wmfling Hw..^.,,^  ...^i 
Thy  mUk  ihall  majce  ui  tubs  of  butter. 
The  bishop  with  hk/oot  may  burn  it  >S 
But  with  hit  band  the  dean  can  chum  it. 
How  are  the  •enrants  overjoyed 
To  aee  thy  deanship  thus  employed  ! 
iDftead  of  poring  on  a  book. 
Providing  butter  for  the  cook  ! 
Throe  morning-boors  you  toss  and  shake 
The  bottle  till  your  fingtm  ake : 
Hard  is  tbe  toil,  nor  small  the  art. 
The  butter  from  the  whey  to  part: 
Behold  a  frothy  substance  rise; 
Be  cautious,  or  your  bottle  flies. 
The  butter  comes,  our  fears  are  ceas'd ; 
Aad  oat  you  squeeze  an  ounce  at  least 

Yovr  reverence  thus,  with  like  success 
(Nor  is  your  skill  or  labour  less), 
When  bent  upon  some  smart  lampoon, 
Will  ton  and  turn  your  brain  till  noon ; 
Which,  in  iu  jumblings  round  the  skull. 
Dilates  and  makes  tbe  vessel  full : 
While  nothing  comes  but  froth  at  first. 
You  thmk  your  giddy  head  will  burst ; 
But,  aqneeziog  out  four  lines  in  rhyme. 
Are  largely  paid  for  all  your  time. 
But  you  have  rab'd  your  generous  mhid 
To  works  of  more  exalted  kind. 
Falladio  was  not  half  so  skilled  in 
The  grandeur  or  the  art  of  building. 
Two  temples  of  magnific  size 
JUtract  tbe  curious  traveller's  eyes. 
That  mi^t  be  envy'd  by  the  Greeks; 
Kais'd  iq>  by  you  in  twenty  weeks : 
Here  gentle  goddess  Cloacine 
Beoeives  all  ofiinings  at  her  shrine. 
In  separate  ceUs  the  he*s  and  she's 
Here  pay  their  vows  with  bended  kneetf 
For  tis  prophane  when  sexes  mingle, 
And  every  njrmph  must  enter  single. 
And  when  she  fbels  an  inward  motion^ 
Cone  ftll'd  with  reverence  and  demotion. 
The  bashful  maid,  to  hide  our  blush. 
Shall  creep  no  more  beh'md  a  busb; 
Here  unobserved  she  boldly  goes, 
As  who  should  say,  to  pluck  a  rosf. 

Ye  who  frequent  this  hallowed  scene. 
Be  not  ungrateful  to  the  dean ; 
But  duly,  ere  you  leave  your  station, 
Offnr  to  him  a  pure  libation 
Or  of  his  own  or  Smedley's  lay. 
Or  billet-doux,  or  lock  of  hay : 
And,  oh !  may  all  who  hither  come. 
Return  with  Unpolluted  thumb  ! 

Yet,  when  your  lofty  domes  I  praise, 
I^sigfato  think  of  ancient  days. 
Fermit  me  then  to  raise  my  style, 
And  sweetly  moralize  awhile. 

Thee,  bounteous  goddess  Cloacine, 
To  ten^iles  why  do  we  confine  ? 
Forbid  m  open  air  to  breathe, 
Why  are  thine  altars  fixt  beneath  ? 

When  Saturn  rul'd  the  skies  alone 
(That  ^oUkm  age  to  gM  unknown), 

"  It  is  a  oommon  saymg,  when  the  milk  bums- 
K  that  the  devU  or  the  bishop  has  set  his  foot  in  it, 
thtderUhsvingheea  called  bishop  of  HelL    F. 


This  earthly  globe,  to  thee  •aigo'd. 

Received  the  gifts  of  all  mankind. 

Ten  thousand  altars  smoking  round 

Were  built  to  thee  with  ofierings  crowned: 

And  here  thy  daily  votaries  placM 

Their  sacrifice  with  zeal  and  haste  t 

The  margin  of  a  purling  stream 

Sent  up  to  thee  a  gratctfiil  steam 

(Though  sometimes  tbou  wert  pleased  to  winl^ 

If  Naiads  swept  tbem  from  the  brink). 

Or  where  appointing  lovers  rove, 

Tbe  shelter  of  a  shady  grove  ; 

Or,  ofter'd  in  some  flowery  vale^ 

Were  wafted  by  a  gentle  gale : 

There  many  a  flower  abstmive  grew. 

The  favourite  flowers  of  yelUnw  hue; 

The  crocus,  and  the  daffiKlil, 

The  cowslip  soft,  and  sweet  jonquiL 

But  when  at  last  usurping  Jove 
Old  Saturn  from  his  empire  drove  ; 
Then  gluUony  with  greasy  paws 
Her  n^kin  pinn'd  i^  to  her  jaws^ 
With  watery  chaps,  and  wagging  chiiv 
Brac*d  like  a  drum  her  oily  skin ; 
Wedg'd  in  a  q;>acious  elbow-chair. 
And  on  her  plate  a  treble  share. 
As  if  she  ne'er  could  have  enough. 
Taught  harmless  man  to  cram  and  ■faiff^ 
She  sent  her  priest  in  wooden  shoes 
From  haughty  Gaul  to  make  ragoos  ; 
Instead  of  wholesome  bread  and  cheesy 
To  dress  their  soups  and  fricassees ; 
And,  for  our  home-bred  British  cheer, 
Botargo,  catsup,  and  caveer. 

This  bloated  harpy,  sprung  from  Hell, 
Coofin*d  thee,  goddess,  to  a  cell : 
Sprung  from  her  womb  that  impious  tine^ 
Contemners  of  thy  rights  divine. 
First,  lolling  shiA  in  woollen  cap 
Taking  her  after-dinner  nap : 
Pale  dropsjf  with  a  sallow  fiioe, 
Her  belly  burst,  and  slow  her  pace : 
And  lordly  gout,  wrapt  up  in  fur  { 
And  wheezing  asthma,  loth  to  stir : 
Voluptuous  ease,  the  child  of  xoealth. 
Infecting  thus  our  hearts  by  stealth.' 
None  seek  thee  now  in  open  air. 
To  thee  no  verdant  altars  rear ; 
But  in  Uieir  cells  and  vaults  obscene 
Present  a  sacrifice  unclean  ; 
From  whence  unsavory  vapours  rose 
Otfensivc  to  thy  nicer  nose. 
Ah  !  who,  in  our  degenerate  dajrs. 
As  nature  prompts,  his  offering  pays? 
Here  nature  never  diffimence  made 
Between  the  sceptre  and  the  spade. 

Ye  great  ones,  why  will  ye  disdain 
To  pay  your  tribute  on  the  plain } 
Why  will  you  place,  in  lazy  pride. 
Your  alUrs  near  your  couches'  side  ; 
When  from  the  homeliest  earthern  ware 
Are  sent  up  offerings  more  sincere. 
Than  whert  the  haughty  dutchess  locks 
Her  silver  vase  in  cedar-boK  ? 

Yet  some  devotion  still  remains 
Among  our  harmless  northern  swams. 
Whose  ofierings,  plac'd  in  gold^  ranks 
Adorn  oar  crystal  rifen*  buks^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


*99 

Kor  lel^fiiii  graod  tbiB^awwf  dovw,    , 
With  spiral  tops  and  oopple-orovns  $ 
Or  gikting  in  a  sooiiyiiierB 
The  fanmhle  brancbw  of  a  thon. 
Soy  poets  sing,  with  gotden  bough 
The  Trojan  hero  paid  his  toir. 

Hither,  by  luddess  arronr  led. 
The  crude  oonsistenoe  oft  I  tread : 
Here,  ivhen  my  shoes  are  out  of  oast, 
Unweeting  gild  the  tarnish^  laoe ; 
Here  by  &e  sacred  bramble  ting'd. 
My  petticoat  is  doably  fring'd. 

Be  witness  for  me,  nymph  divine,' 
I  never  robb'd  thee  with  design ; 
Nor  will  the  zealoos  Hannah  pout 
To  wash  thy  ii^r'd  ofihring  oat. 

But  stop,  ambitious  Muse,  in  time, 
Kor  dwell  on  subjects  too  gabKBie; 
In  vain  on  lofty  heels  I  tread, 
Aspiring  to  exalt  my  head  $ 
With  hoop  expanded  wide  and  light. 
In  vain  I  tempt  too  high  a  flight 

Me  Phoebos  in  a  midntght  dream 
Accosting  taid,  *'  Go  shake  yonr  cream  % 
Be  humbly  minded,  know  your  post ; 
Sweeten  your  tea,  and  watch  Tonrieait 
Thee  best  befits  a  lowly  style : 
Teach  Dennis  how  to  stir  the  geitft  13  ? 
With  Peggy  Dixon  ^*  thoughiftd  eit, 
Omtriving  for  the  pot  and  spit 
Take  down  thy  proudly  sweHing  aails. 
And  rub  thy  teeth,  and  pare  thy  nmli : 
At  nicely-carving  show  thy  wit ; 
But  ne'er  presume  to  eat  a  bit:       « 
Turn  every  way  thy  watehful  eye  j 
And  every  guest  be  sure  to  ply : 
Let  nerer  at  your  board  be  known 
An  empty  plate,  except  yonr  own. 
Be  these  thy  arts;  nor  higher  aim 
Than  what  befits  a  rural  dame. 

'*  But  Cloacina,  goddess  bright, 
Sleek  claims  her  as  his  ri|^ 

And  Smedley,  flower  of  aO  divhies. 
Shall  sing  the  dean  in  8Med]ey>s  lines." 


TWELVB  jtRTrCLES. 

L  Lbst  it  may  more  qnarrels  breed, 
I  will  ne?er  hear  you  read. 

n.  By  disputing,  I  will  never. 

To  convince  yon,  onoe  endeavour. 

HI.  When  a  parados  you  stick  to, 
I  will  never  contradict  yon. 

IV.  ^en  I  talk,  and  yon^nre  heodlesi, 
IwUlshovtiof 


SWDTS  POEMS. 


V.  When  your  speeches  ace  absurd, 
I  will  ne*er  object  a  wotd. 

Vh  When  yon  futknB  argne  wipug, 
I  will  grieve,  and  hold  my  toi^gnew 

It  In  the  boUle^tooiahe  butter.    F. 
»The  ^oBOtity  «f  4le  or  beer  brewMi  it  one 
time.    F. 
MMn.Di»ii,tfaelKNiae-k«eper.    F.  i 


VIL  Not  a  jest  or  huBoioaf  story 
Will  I  ever  tdl  before  ye : 
To  be  chidden  for  e3q>laining. 
When  yoii  quite  misbike  the  manpiggir 

VIII.  Never  more  will  I  suppose. 

You  can  taste  my  verse  or  prose. 

K.  You  no  more  at  me  shall  fret. 
While  I  teach,  and  yon  forget 

X  You  shall  never  hear  me  thunder. 
When  you  blunder  on,  and  blunder. 

XI.  Show  your  poverty  of  spirit, 

And  in  dress  place  aB  your  merit ; 
Give  yourself  ten  thousand  airs  ; 
That  with  me  shall  break  no  squares; 

XIL  Never  will  I  give  advice. 

Till  you  please  to  ask  me  thrice : 
Which  if  you  in  sooni  reject, 
Twill  be  just  as  I  expect 

Thus  we  both  shall  have  our 
And  continue  special  friends. 


THE  REVOLUTION 

AT   MARKET-HILU     173a 

From  distant  regions  Fortone  landf 
An  odd  triumvirate  of  friends  ; 
Where  Phoebus  pays  a  scanty  stipeiai. 
Where  never  3ret  a  codlin  ripen'd : 
Hither  the  frantic  goddess  draws 
Three  sufier^srs  in  a  roin'd  oaase : 
By  fiiction  banish'd,  here  unite, 
A  dean  >,  a  Spaniaid  *,  and  a  knight  ^^ 
Unite,  but  on  conditioas  cruel : 
The  dean  and  Spaniard  find  it  too  well. 
Condemned'  to  liive  in  service  hard  | 
On  either  side  his  hononr's  guard : 
The  dean,  to  guard  his  honour^  back. 
Must  build  a  castle  at  Drumkck ; 
The  ^niard,  sore  aga'mst  his  will. 
Must  raise  a  fort  at  Market-hilL 
And  thus  the  pair  of  humble  gentry 
At  north  and  ioiUh  are  posted  centry  ; 
While,  in  his  lordly  castle  fixt. 
The  knight  triumphant  raigns  betwixt  t 
And,  what  the  wretches  most  moent. 
To  be  his  slaves,  must  pay  him  rent  | 
Attend  him  daily  as  their  rikt#f> 
Decant  his  wine,  and  carve  hie  beet 
Oh,  Fortune  f  tis  a  scandal  for  thee 
To  smile  on  those  who  ave  ieast  worthy  c 
Weigh  but  the  merits  of  the  ^faree. 
His  slaves  have  ten  tioMs  fnoie  thaa-hc 

Proud  baronet  of  Nam  SeaciB  I 
The  dean  and  Spaniaid  UMvt  foproaoh  ye; 
Of  their  twd  fiunes  the  world  enough  riagt  t 
Where  are  %  services  add  saSieringa  f 
What  if  for  nothing  onoe  you  kist, 
Aganut  the  grsBbi, «  mooarohfa'ist^ 

iDr.Swtft 

*  Ool.  Hany  hoAv^  ^naarod  and  lived  lonf  i 
Spain. 
I  Sir  Arthur  Acheson. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


niAULUS. 


4»i 


What  \t  Among  ^  <Mmfftlf  trib9« 
Vou  lost  a  place,  and  sar^  a  bribe  ? 
And  tkea  in  suriy  mood  came  here 
To  fifteen  hiindied  pounds  a  year. 
And  fierce  against  the  Whigs  haiangn^  } 
You  ii6ver  rentur'd  to  be  hangM. 
How  dare  you  treat  your  betters  Umm  ? 
Are  yon  to  be  compared  with  os } 

Come,  Spaniaid,  let  us  from  (wr  fiuniM 
Call  forth  our  cottagers  to  arms  ; 
Oar  forces  let  us  both  unite. 
Attack  the  foe  at  left  and  right  $ 
From  Market-hitrs  exalted  head. 
Full  northward  let  your  troops  be  led; 
While  I  from  Dr^ner's  mount  desoeiid. 
And  to  the  south  my  sqdadions  bend. 
New.river-walk  with  friendly  shade 
Shall  keep  my  host  in  ambuscade  ; 
While  you,  from  where  the  bason  stands, 
Shall  scale  the  rampart  with  your  bands. 
Kor  need  we  doubt  the  fort  to  win  ; 
I  bold  intelligence  within. 
Troe,  lady  Anne  no  danger  fean, 
Brave  as  the  Upton  fim  she  wean  ; 
Then,  lest  upon  our  fint  attack 
Her  valiant  arm  should  force  us  back^ 
And  we  of  all  our  hopes  depriv'd  ; 
I  have  a  stratagem  cooitriT*d« 
By  these  embr  oider'd  high-heel*d  shoes 
She  shall  be  caught  as  in  a  noose; 
So  well  oontriv'd  her  toes  to  pinch. 
She  '11  not  have  power  to  stir  an  inch. 
These  gaudy  shoes  must  Hannah  place 
Direct  before  her  lady's  foce ; 
The  shoes  put  on,  our  fiuthfol  portress 
Admits  us  m,  to  storm  the  fortress ; 
While  torturM  madam  bound  renudns, 
like  Montezume,  in  golden  chams  ; 
Or  like  a  cat  with  walnuts  shod. 
Stumbling  at  every  step  she  trod. 
Sly  hunters  thus,  in  Borneo's  isle. 
To  catch  a  monkey  by  a  wile, 
Tlie  mimic  animal  amuse ; 
They  place  before  him  gloves  and  dioes ; 
Which  when  the  brute  puts  awkward  on. 
All  bis  agility  b  gone : 
In  rain  to  fnsk  or  climb  he  tries ; 
The  huntsmen  seize  the  grinning  prise. 

But  let  us  on  our  fifst  assault 
Seeore  the  larder  and  the  vault : 
The  valiant  Dennis  *  you  must  fix  on. 
And  1  '11  engage  with  Peggy  Dhcon  ^  x 
Then,  if  we  once  can  seize^  the  key 
And  chest  that  keeps  my  lady's  tea. 
They  must  surrender  at  discretion ; 
And,  soon  as  we  have  gained  possession. 
We  '11  act  as  other  conquerors  do, 
I>fvide  the  realm  between  os  two : 
^  Then  (let  roe  see)  we  '11  make  the  knight 
Our  clerk,  for  he  can  read  and  write; 
But  must  noi  think,  I  tell  him  that. 
Like  Lorimer  ^  to  wear  his  hat : 
Yet,  when  we  dine  wMiout  a  fHend, 
We  '11  place  him  at  tin  lower  end. 
Madam,  whose  skill  does  all  in  dren  Be, 
May  serve  to  wait  on  fids.  Leslie; 


<Tbe  batten 
•  TTieagtnt, 


I  TheloM&4cflqp8r« 


But,  lest  it  might  not  be  sa  prspar 
That  her  own  maid  should  over-tsp  hsTi 
To  mortify  the  creature  more, 
1^  '11  take  her  heels  ive  inches  lower. 

For  Hannah,  whemre  have  no  need  of  her  r 
Twill  be  our  interest  to  get  lid  of  her-: 
And,  when  we  ezeeute  our  plot ; 
Tis  best  to  hang  her  on  the  spot; 
As  all  your  politicians  wise 
Dispatch  the  rogues  by  whom  they  rissu 


TRjtVUJS. 

A  ^ULGGUE 


TOM  AND  ROBIN.    1730L 

THB  PnSTTAlT. 

To0i«  Sat,  Robin,  what  can  IVaulns  >  i 
By  bellowing  thus  against  the  dean  ? 
Why  does  he  call  him  paltry  scribbler. 
Papist,  and  Jacobite,  and  libeler; 
^et  cannot  prove  a  single  fisot  ? 

Robtn.  Fotgive  him,  Tom;  his  hand  is  mtdkL 

T.  What  mischief  can  the  dean  have  done  him^ 
That  Trsulus  calls  for  vengeance  on  him  ? 
Why  must  he  sputter,  spawl,  and  slaver  It 
In  vain  against  the  people's  fovourite  ^ 
Revile  that  nstion-saving  paper. 
Which  gave  the  dean  the  name  of  Drapier  f 

R,  Why,  Tom,  I  think  the  case  b  plafai; 
Party  and  mpleen  have  tnm'd  his  brsin. 

T,  Such  friendship  never  man  profost. 
The  dean  was  never  so  carest ; 
For  Traulus  kwg  his  rancour  nurs'd. 
Till,  God  knows  why,  at  last  it  burst. 
That  clumsy  outside  of  a  porter. 
How  could  it  thus  conceal  a  courtier? 

R,  I  own,  iqppearances  are  bad  ; 
Yet  still  insist  the  man  is  mad. 

T.  Yet  many  a  wretch  in  Bedlam  knows 
How  to  distinguish  friends  from  foes ; 
And,  though  pertiaps  among  the  rout 
He  wildly  flhigs  his  filth  abont. 
He  still  has  gratitude  and  sap'enoe. 
To  s^are  the  folks  that  give  him  ha'pence; 
Nor  m  their  eyes  at  rai^m  pisses. 
But  turns  aside  like  mad  Ulysses : 
While  Traulus  all  his  ordure  scatters 
To  foul  the  mail  he  chiefly  flatters. 
Whence  come  these  inconsistent  fits  } 

R.  Why,  Tom,  the  man  has  lost  his  wits. 

T,  Agreed  :  and  yet,  when  Towzer  snaps 
At  people's  heels  with  frothy  chaps,  ^ 
Hangs  down  his  head,  and  drops  his  tail. 
To  say  he  's  mad,  will  not  avail ; 
The  neighbours  all  cry,  **  Shoot  him  dead. 
Hang,  drown,  or  knock  him  on  the  head." 
So  Traulus  when  he  first  harangu'd, 
I  wonder  why  he  was  not  hang'd  ; 
For  of  the  two  without  dispute, 
Towzer  's  the  less  offsnsive  brute. 

R.  Tom,  you  mislake  the  matter  ^aitfr^ 
Your  barking  curs  will  seldom  bite ; 


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^t 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


And  tlHNigh  yoQ  lieftr  bim  itot>tiit-tiil-ter» 

lie  bttrlui  u  fast  as  he  can  atter» 

He  prates  in  spite  of  all  impediment, 

While  none  believes  that  what  he  laid  he  meant  $ 

Puts  in  his  fini^  and  his  thumb 

To  grope  for  word»,  and  out  they  come. 

He  calU  you  rogue ;  there  's  nothing  in  it, 

fie  fawns  upon  you  in  a  minute : 

'*  Begs  leave  to  rail,  but  d — n  his  blood ! 

He  only  meant  it  for  your  good : 

Hb  friendship  was  exactly  tim*d, 

He  shot  before  your  foes  were  prim'd. 

By  this  contrivancei  Mr.  Dean, 

By  G — !  I  'II  bring  you  oflf  as  clean^  «* 

Then  let  him  use  you  e'er  so  rough, 

**  Twtm  all  for  loTe,**  and  that 's  enough. 

But,  though  he  sputter  through  a  sesnon. 

It  never  makes  the  least  impression: 

Whatever  he  speaks  for  madness  goes, 

With  no  effect  on  friends  or  foes. 

T.  The  scrubbiest  cur  in  all  the  pack 
Can  set  the  mastiff  on  your  back. 
I  own  hb  madness  is  a  jest. 
If  that  were  alL    But  he  *s  pooest. 
Incarnate  with  a  thousand  imps. 
To  work  whose  ends  his  madness  pimps; 
Who  ^'cr  each  string  and  wire  preside^    i 
^lil  every  pipe,  each  motion  guide  ; 
Directing  every  vice  we  find 
In  Scripture,  to  the  devil  assigned  ; 
Sent  from  the  dark  infernal  regioii. 
In  him  they  lodge,  and  make  him  /«fioa» 
Of  brethren  he  's  a/a/M  accuser  ,* 
A  slanderer,  traitor,  and  seducer ; 
A  Owning,  base,  trepanning  liar ; 
Hie  marks  peculiar  of  his  sire. 
Or,  grant  him  but  a  drone  at  best, 
A  drone  can  raise  a  hornet's  nest 
The  dean  had  felt  thdr  stings  befbre  ; 
And  must  their  malice  ne'er  give  o'er  ? 
Still  swarm  and  buzz  about  his  nose  ? 
But  Ireland'^  friends  ne'er  wanted  foes. 
A  patriot  is  a  dangerous  post. 
When  wanted  by  his  country  most ; 
Perversely  comes  in  evil  times. 
Where  virtues  are  imputed  crimes. 
His  guilt  is  clear,  the  proofs  are  pregnant ; 
A  traitor  to  the  vices  regnant. 

What  spirit,  since  the  world  began. 
Could  aixcavs  bear  to  strive  with  man  f 
Which  God  pronounc'd,  be  never  would. 
And  soon  convinc'd  tbem  by  a  flood. 
Yet  still  the  dean  on  freedom  raves ; 
His  spirit  always  strives  with  slaves. 
Tis  time  at  last  to  spare  hi^  ink, 
And  let  them  rot,  or  hang,  or  sink. 


TRAULUS. 

THE  SBCOKD  PAKT. 

l^AULUS,  of  amphibious  breed, 
Motley  fhiit  of  mongrel  seed ; 
By  the  dam  from  lonllings  sprang. 
By  the  sire  exhal'd  from  dung : 

*  This  is  the  usual  excuse  of  TVanlus,  when  be 
abuses  you  to  qthert  with^  proyocalion.    F. 


Think  on  every  vice  in  both ; 
Look  on  him,  and  see  their  growth. 

View  him  on  the  mother's  side, 
Fill'd  with  fidsehood,  spleon,  and  pride; 
Positive  and  overbearing. 
Changing  still,  and  still  adhering  ; 
S^piteful,  peeevish,  rude,  untoward. 
Fierce  ra  tongue,  in  heart  a  oowaid  ; 
When  his  friends  be  most  is  hard  on. 
Cringing  comes  to  beg  their  pardon  I     . 
Reputation  ever  tearing, 
Ever  dearest  fnendship  swearing ; 
Judgment  weak,  and  passion  strongs 
Always  various,  alwajrs  wrong ; 
Provocation  never  waits. 
Where  he  loves,  or  where  he  hates; 
Talks  whate'er  comes  in  his  heed  ; 
Wishes  it  were  all  unsaid. 

Let  me  now  the  vices  trace, 
Fhxn  the /aM«r's  scoundrel  raoe. 
Who  could  give  the  looby  such  ain  } 
Were  they  masons,  were  they  hmtdierM$ 
Herald,  lend  the  Muse  an  answer 
From  his  ataxnu  and  grandsire : 
This  was  dextrous  at  his  trowel. 
That  was  bred  to  kill  a  oow  well  t 
Hence  the  greasy  dnmsy  mien 
In  his  dress  and  figure  seen ; 
Hence  the  mean  and  sordid  soul. 
Like  his  body,  rank  and  foul ; 
Hence  that  wild  suspicious  peep. 
Like  a  rogue  that  steals  a  theepi 
Hence  he  learnt  the  butcher's  guile^ 
How  to  cut  your  throat  and  smile  ; 
Like  a  butcher,  doom'd  for  life 
In  his  mouth  to  wear  his  knife  ,* 
Hence  he  draws  his  daily  food 
From  his  tenants*  vital  blood. 

Lastly,  let  his  gifts  he  try'd. 
Borrow  d  from  the  mason's  side : 
Some  perhaps  may  think  him  abU 
In  the  state  to  buUd  a  Babel ; 
Could  we  plaee  him  in  a  station 
To  destroy  the  o\d  foundation. 
True  indeed,  1  should  be  gladder. 
Could  be  learn  to  mount  a  ladder* 
May  he  at  bis  latter  end 
MouDt  alive,  and  dead  descend  I 

In  him  tell  me  which  prevail, 
Female  vices  most,  or  male  ? 
What  prodoc'd  him,  can  you  tell ) 
Human  race,  or  imps  of  UeU  f 


ROBIN  AND  HARRY  h 

RoBiM  to  beggars,  with  a  curse, 
Throws  the  last  shilhng  in  his  purse ; 
And,  when  the  coachman  comes  for  pay. 
The  rogue  must  call  another  day. 

Orave  Harry,  when  the  poor  are  pressing* 
Gives  them  a  penny,  and  God's  blessing; 
But,  always  careful  of  the  tnain, 
With  two-pence  left,  walks  home  in  ram. 

>  Sons  of  Dr.  Leslie.    Harry  was  aodloiitl  hk  Htf 
Spanish  service.    See  abore^  p.  490«    If. 


Digitized  by  CiOOglC 


DEATH  AND  DAPHKfi. 


49$ 


HoImii,  from  noon  to  mifi^  will  prate, 
Ruit-oiit  in  toDgoe,  as  in  estate : 
And,  ere  a  twelvemonth  and  a  day. 
Will  not  have  one  new  thing  to  fay. 
Much  talking  is  not  Harry's  vice; 
He  need  not  tell  a  story  twice : 
And,  if  he  always  be  so  thrifty. 
His  fnnd  may  last  to  five  and  fifty. 

It  so  fell  out,  thatcantioos  Harry, 
As  soldiert  nse,  for  lore  must  marry. 
And,  with  his  dame,  the  ocean  crostf 
(All  for  Love,  or  the  World  weU  Lost !) 
Repairs  a  cabm  gone  to  ruin. 
Just  big  enough  to  shelter  two  in ; 
And  in  his  house  if  any  body  come, 
Willtnake  them  welcome  to  his  modtntm  ; 
Where  goody  Julia  milks  the  cows,  , 
And  boUa  potatoes  for  her  spouse; 
Or  deams  hb  hose,  or  mends  bis  breeches. 
While  Harry  's  fencing  up  his  ditches. 

Kobin,  who  ne'er  bis  mind  could  fix 
To  live  without  a  coach  and  six. 
To  patch  his  broken  fortunes,  found 
A  mistress  worth  five  thousand  pound  ; 
Swears  be  could  get  her  in  an  hour. 
If  Oaflfer  Harry  would  endow  her  ; 
And  sell,  to  pacify  his  wrath, 
A  birth-right  for  a  mess  of  broth. 

Young  Harry,  as  all  Burope  knows. 
Was  loog  the  quintessence  of  beaux; 
But,  when  espous'd,  he  ran  the  fote 
Thai  must  a^end  the  marry'd  state ; 
From  gold  brocade  and  shining  armour. 
Was  metamorphos'd  to  a  former; 
His  grazier*8  coat  with  dirt  besmear'd  ; 
Kor  twice  a  week  will  sbwe  his  beard. 

Old  Robin,  all  his  youth  a  sloren. 
At  fifty-two,  when  he  grew  loving. 
Clad  in  a  coat  of  padnasoy, 
A  flaxen  wig,  and  waistcoat  gay, 
Powder'd  from  shoulder  down  to  flank. 
In  courtly  style  addresses  Frank  ; 
Twice  ten  years  older  than  his  wife, . 
Is  doom'd  to  be  a  beau  for  life ; 
Supplying  those  defects  by  dress. 
Which  1  must  leave  the  work!  to  giiess. 


TO  BETTY  THE  GRIZETTE.     1730. 

QuBKN  of  wit  and  beauty,  Betty ! 
Never  may  the  Muse  forget  ye  : 
How  thy  fsce  charms  every  shepherd. 
Spotted  over  like  a  leopard  ! 
And  thy  freckled  neck,  display'd, 
Emry  breeds  in  every  maid, 
Like  a  fly-blown  cake  of  tallow, 
Or  on  parchment  ink  tum'd  yellow ; 
Or  a  tawny  speckled  pippin, 
Shrivel'd  with  a  winter's  keeping. 

And,  thy  beauty  thus  dispatched. 
Let  me  praise  thy  wit  unmatch'd. 

Sets  of  phrases,  cut  and  dry. 
Evermore  thy  tongue  supply. 
And  thy  memory  is  loaded 
With  old  scraps  from  plays  exploded  « 
StockM  with  repartees  and  joka^ 
Suited  to  all  Chriitiaa  folks  i 


Shreds  of  wit,  and  semelesi  rfaymef, 
Blunder'd  out  a  thousand  times. 
Nor  wilt  thou  of  gifts  be  sparing. 
Which  can  ne'er  be  worse  for  wearing: 
Picking  wit  among  collegians. 
In  the  play-house  upper  regions  ; 
Where,  in  ejghteen-pennygaUery^ 
Irish  nymphs  learn  Irish  raillery  s 
But  thy  merit  b  thy  foil'mg. 
And  thy  raillery  is  railing. 

Thus  with  talents  well.eodned 
To  be  scurrilous  and  rude ; 
When  you  pertly  raise  your  snoot. 
Fleer,  and  gibe,  and  laugh,  and  flont| 
This  among  Hibernian  asses 
For  sheer  wit  and  humour  passes. 
Thus  indulgent  Chloe,  bit. 
Swears  you  have  a  world  of  wit. 


DEATH  AND  DAPHNE. 

TO  AN  AGREEABLE  YOUNG  LADY* 

BUT  XZTRBMBLY  LXAN.   1730. 

DcATB  went  upon  a  solemn  day 

At  Pluto's  hall  bis  court  to  pay: 

The  phantom,  having  humbly  kist 

His  grisly  monarch's  sooty  fist. 

Presented  him  the  weekly  bills 

Of  doctors,  fevers,  plagues,  and  pilla. 

Pluto,  observing  since  the  peace 

The  burial-article  decrease. 

And,  vext  to  see  affiiirs  miscarry, 

Declar'd  in  council.  Death  must  marry  2 

Vow'd  he  no  longer  could  support 

Old  bachelors  about  his  court; 

The  interest  of  his  realm  had  need 

Tliat  Death  should  get  a  numerpus  breed; 

Young  Deathlings,  who,  by  practice  1 

Proficient  in  their  father's  trade. 

With  colonies  might  stock  around 

His  large  dominions  under  ground. 

A  consult  of  coquettes  bdow 
Was  calPd,  to  rig  him  out  a  beau : 
From  her  own  h^  Megssra  takes 
A  periwig  of  twisted  snakes; 
Which  in  the  nicest  fashion  curl'd 
(Like  toupett  q( th\9  upper  worid). 
With  flour  of  sulphur  powder'd  well. 
That  graceful  on  bis  shoulders  fell  | 
An  adder  of  the  sable  kind 
In  line  direct  hung  down  behind ; 
The  owl,  the  raven,  and  the  bat, 
Clubb'd  for  a  feather  to  his  hat; 
His  coat,  an  usurer's  velvet  pall, 
Bequeath'd  to  Pluto,  corpse  and  alL 
But,  kith  his  person  to  expose 
Bare,  like  a  carcase  pickt  by  crows, 
'  A  lawyer  o'er  his  hands  and  face 
Stuck  artfully  a  parchment-case. 
No  new-fluxt  rake  show'd  foirer  skin; 
Nor  Phyllis  after  lying-in. 
With  snuff  was  fill'd  his  ebon  box 
Of  shin-bones  rotted  by  the  pox. 
Nine  spirits  of  blaspheming  rops 
With  aconite  anoint  bit  chops; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


49i 


SWOTS  POEMS. 


And  give  him  word*  of  drMdftil  ioiaif, 
G^-dd—D his  blood!  and  b-^d  anlw—aftl 

Thus  furnbh'd  out,  he  sent  his  traia 
To  take  a  honse  io  Warwick-lane : 
The  faculty,  his  humble  friendi» 
A  complimental  mesHge  sends  x 
Their  president  in  scariiet  gown 
Harangu'd,  and  welcoin'd  him  to  town* 

But  Death  had  busmess  to  dispatch  ; 
His  mind  was  rnnning  on  his  miioh. 
And,  hearing  much  of  Daphne's  fcme. 
His  majesty  of  ierrourt  came» 
Pine  as  a  eolbnel  of  the  gnards. 
To  visit  where  she  sate  at  cards: 
She,  as  he  came  into  the  room. 
Thought  him  Adonis  in  his  Uoom. 
And  now  her  heart  with  pleasore  jwnps  $ 
She  scarce  remembeis  wlMt  is  trumpa; 
For  such  a  shape  of  skin  and  bone 
Was  never  seen,  eaccept  her  own : 
Charmed  with  his  eyes,  and  chin,  and  snooty 
Her  pocket-glass  drew  slily  out ; 
And  grew  enameav'd  with  her  i4i% 
As  just  the  counterpoit  of  his. 
She  darted  many  a  private  glanoe, 
And  freely  made  the  firrt  advance; 
Was  of  her  beaOty  grown  so  vain. 
She  doubted  not  to  win  the  swaiiu 
Kothfaig  she  thought  could  sooner  gaSn  him# 
Than  with  her  wit  to  entertain  him. 
She  ask'd  about  her  fiieods  bekiw : 
Tl  is  meagre  fop,  that  batter'd  beau : 
Whether  some  lale  departed  toasts 
Had  got  gallants  among  the  gboitsl 
If  Chloe  were  a  shaiper  still 
As  great  as  ever  at  quadrille  ? 
(The  ladies  there  must  needs  be  rooks; 
^or  cards,  we  know,  are  Plato's  books !} 
If  Plorimel  had  found  her  kve. 
For  whom  she  hang'd  herself  above  ? 
How  oft  a  wedc  was  kept  a  ball 
By  PridBerpine  at  Pluto's  hall } 
She  fended  those  Elysian  shades 
Hie  sweetest  place  for  masquerades : 
How  pleasant,  on  the  banks  of  Styx, 
To  troU  it  in  a  coach  and  six  I 

What  pride  a  (Semale  heart  inflames  t 
Bow  endless  are  ambition's  ainu  1 
CMse,  haughty  nymph ;  the  Fates  decree 
Death  must  not  be  a  spouse  for  thee : 
FStr,  when  by  chance  the  meagre  shade 
Upon  thy  hand  hb  finger  laid. 
Thy  hand  as  dry  and  cold  as  lead. 
His  matiimoDial  spirit  fled ; 
He  felt  about  his  heart  a  damp. 
That  quite  extinguished  Cupid^s  lampi 
Away  the  frighted  spectve  seuds. 
And  leaves  my  lady  mthe  sods. 


DAPHNM. 

DArBKB  knoiwi,  with  equal  ease. 
How  to  vex,  airid  how  to  please  ; 
But  the  fbUy  of  her  sex 
BCakes  her  sole  delight  to  rex. 
Kever  woman  more  devis*d 
Surer  ways  to  be  despis'd  t 


Paradoxes  weakly  wietdiaf. 
Always  ouDquer*d,  never  ykUin^ 
To  diqmte,  her  chief  delight. 
With  not  one  opinion  right : 
Thick  her  arguments  she  lays  av 
And  with  cavils  combats  reaaon; 
Answers  in  decisive  way. 
Never  hears  what  you  ean  say : 
Still  her  odd  pervecseness  shews. 
Chiefly  where  she  nothmg  knows  ; 
And,  where  she  is  OMMt  fomiliar. 
Always  peevisher  and  stlliev : 
All  her  spirits  in  a  flame. 
When  she  knows  she  ^s  most  to  I 

Send  me  hence  ten  thousand  miles» 
Tnm  a  free  that  always  smiles: 
None  could  ever  act  that  part. 
But  a  Fury  in  her  heart 
Ye  who  hitm  tach  ineonsisteiics. 
To  be  easy,  keep  your  distanoe  ; 
Or  in  folly  still  befnand  her. 
But  have  no  concern  to  mend  has* 
Lose  not  time  to  contradict  faai^ 
Nor  endeavour  to  coorictheiv 
Never  take  it  in  yoor  tfaooght. 
That  shell  own,  qr  cuie  a  fiuik. 
Into  contradiction  warm  her ; 
Then,  perhaps,  you  may  refliiai  htri 
Only  take  this,  rule  along. 
Always  to  advise  her  wrong; 
And  reprove  her  when  she 's  rigfal ; 
She  may  then  grow  wise  fbr  sp^[^ 

No— ^Mt.a^ieme  will  ne'er  succesd» 
She  has  better  learnt  her  creed : 
She 's  too  cumung,  and  too  skilfol. 
When  to  yield,  and  when  be  wilftU. 
Nature  holds  her  forth  two  mirrofs. 
One  fbr  truth,  and  one  fbr  errours  e 
That  looks  hideous,  fierce,  and  linghtfal  t 
This  is  flattering  and  delightfiil : 
That  she  thrc(vs  away  as  foul ; 
Sits  by  this,  to  dress  her  souL 

Thus  you  have  the  case  in  view. 
Daphne,  'twixt  the  dean  and  you. 
Heaven  forbid  he  should  despise  tiiee  1 
But  will  never  more  advise  thee. 


THE  PHEASANT  AND  THE  LARK. 

A  FABLE  BY  OB.   pBLANV..      1730. 

— <^is  iniqqsB 
Tam  patiensjurbis,  tam  ferrstts,  «t  teneat  iiB  } 

In  ancient  times,  as  bards  indfte, 
(If  clerks  have  oonn'd  the  recoids  right) 
A  peacock  reign'd,  whose  riorious  sway 
His  sttljects  with  delight  cfbey : 
^  His  tail  was  beauteous  to  behold. 
Replete  with  goodly  eyes  and  gold 
(Fair  emblem  of  tint  monarch's  guise. 
Whose  tiain  at  oooe  is  rich  and  wise). 
And  princely  rul'd  be  many  regions. 
And  statesmen  wise,  and  valiant  legiooii 

A  pheasant  lord  >,  above  the  rest. 
With  every  grace  and  talent  blest, 

I  Lord  Carteiet,  lord  ltoMtaaatQl^M«i4r 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  PHEASANT  AND  THE  LARK. 


4>» 


Was  sent  to  iway,  with  all  his  tkilt. 

The  sceptre  of  a  oeighhoufiag  hiU  '. 

No  science  was  to  bim  unknown^ 

For  all  the  arts  w«M  all  bis  ow»  : 

In  all  the  living  taamod  veai». 

Thoagh  more  delighted  wt«h  Ae  dta4: 

For  birds,  if  ancient  tales  ba  tnn» 

Had  then  their  Popes  and  Honen  too. 

Could  read  and  write  in  prase  and  Ttise, 

And  speak  like  ♦♦•,  and  bniM  liba  P)nr«a  ^ 

He  knew  their  -voices^  asd  their  wings  ; 

Who  smoothest  soars,  wl»  sweetest  smgs  j 

Who  toils  with  ill  Jadg*d  pens  to  dinby 

And  who  attained  the  trat  sublime  : 

Their  merits  he  omU  well  dcBer3% 

He  had  so  exquiiite  an  eje ; 

And  when  that  €ait*d,  to  show  tbe«i  olenr. 

He  had  as  exquisiie  aa  eai; 

It  chaac'd,  as  OB  a  dttf  be  slniy*dy 

Beneath  an  acudemic  shade, 

He  lik'd,  amidst  a  thowsand  throats* 

The  wildness  of  a  woodkurk's  <  notes. 

And  searchM,  and  ipf*d,  and  seized  bb  pODM^ 

And  took  him  home,  and  mads  hk»  tame; 

Found  him  on  trial  tnie  and  able. 

So  che«rM  and  M  hia  at  his  taUe. 

Here  some  8hre«*d  critic  finds  I  *m  caught* 
And  cries  out,  «<  Iftttter  M  than  taught**— 
Then  jests  on  ^osie  and  itme,  and  reads 
And  jests;  and  so  my  taie  proeaeds* 

Long  had  he  study*d  in  the  wood. 
Conversing  with  the  wise  and  good  I 
His  soul  with  harmonf  hvpirMy 
With  love  of  troth  and  virtue  fli'd : 
ffis  brethren's  good  «nd  Makei^s  praist 
Were  all  the  steidy  of  his  bys; 
Were  all  his  study  in  retreat* 
And  now  employed  him  with  tbt  great 
His  friendship  was  the  sure  rasoft 
Of  nil  the  wretched  at  the  eowt; 
Bot  chiefly  merit  in  distnss 
His  greatest  blessing  tma  to  MeiB.-*- 

This  fixM  Mm  in  his  patvon^  brwt, 
Bot  fir'd  with  €«vy  afl  the  rastx 
I  mean  that  noisy  eratfaig  crew. 
Who  round  the  court  inoessaat  flew. 
And  prey'd  like  rooks,  by  pain  and  doMoi^ 
To  fill  the  maws  of  sans  and  oooains : 
«  Unmov'd  thetf  heart,  and  ddtl'd  their  Mood, 
To  every  thought  of  common  good. 
Confining  every  bepe  and  owe** 
To  their  own  low  Contracted  sphere. 
These  ran  him  down  with  cea^eleM  eiy, 
But  found  it  hard  to  tell  ytm  why. 
Till  his  own  worth  and  wit  iopply*4 
Sufficient  matter  to  deride  -. 
**  Tis  Envy's  safest,  surest  ruls^  . 
To  hide  her  rage  in  ridicule 
The  vulgar  eye  she  best  bcguik^ 
When  all  her  snakes  aro  deck'd  witii  smiles  V* 
Sardonic  smiles,  by  raaaow  faisM  1 
««  Tormented  most  w|ien  seeming  pUfls^  I'' 
Their  spite  had  more  than  half  eapM* 
Had  he  not  wrote  what  ^HkmdmAM^ 
What  morsels  had  their  malice  wai^. 
Bat  MM  he  built,  wd  phai<d»  nikl  ftatftodi 

s  Ireland. 
•jAfiw* 


How  had  his  sense  and  laaniag  gfies'd  thaB» 
But  that  his  charity  relisv>d  tfaaaa  *. 

"  At  highest  worth  ditU  malice  ret 
At  slugs  i^ute  the  fiusest  peaobas : 
Envy  defames,  as  harpies  vile 
Devour  the  food  tbey  isH  defile." 

Now  ask  the  fruit  of  all  his  fiivos 
*'  He  was  not  hitherto  a  saver^—- 
What  then  could  make  their  rage  ran  aadi 
"  Why  what  he  Ac^it,  not  what  be  bad. 

**  What  tjrrant  e'er  invented  ropes. 
Or  nusks,  or  rods,  to  punish  hopes } 
Th'  inheritance  of  hope  and  fSiune 
Is  seldom  earthly  wisdom*!  ami ; 
Or,  if  it  were,  is  not  so  small, 
But  there  is  room  enough  for  All." 

If  he  but  chance  to  breathe  a  song 
(He  seldom  sang,  aod  never  long) ; 
The  noisy,  rude,  malignant  crowd, 
Where  it  was  high,  prooouDeM  it  loud: 
Plain  truth  was  pride ;  and  what  was  sUUai^ 
Easy  and  friendly  was  fiuailiwr. 

Or,  if  he  tnn*d  his  kfty  lays^ 
With  solemn  air  to  virtue*s  pnwe> 
Alike  abusive  and  errooeons* 
They  calFd  it  hoarse  and  unhanBOMOns; 
Yet 'so  it  was  to  sonb  fika  thaks. 
Tuneless  as  Abel  to  the  baass  1 

A  rook  ^  with  harsh  malignant  caw 
Began,  was  follow*d  by  a  daw  « 
(Though  some,  who  ironkl  be  thoagbt  to  kng^ 
Are  positive  it  was  a  erow)  ; 
Jack  Daw  vras  seeooded  ^  Tit, 
Tom  T!t ''  could  write,  and  so  be  writ; 
A  tribe  of  tuneless  praters  fisUov* 
The  jay,  the  magpie,  and  the  si^low ; 
And  twenty  more  their  throats  let  loose* 
Down  to  the  witless  wadtimg  goose. 

Some  pick'd  at  him,  soose  flew,  some  fliitl«r*d 
Some  hiss'd,  some  screaln'd*  and  othan  muttaf'd  t 
The  crow,  on  carrion  wont  to  fisast* 
The  carrion  crow  condMUi^  his  taste : 
The  ruok  in  earnest  too*  not  joking* 
Swore  all  his  singing  was  bat  croakiQg. 

Some  thought  they  meant  to  show  thdr  wi^ 
Might  thmk  so  still— *<  but  that  tbey  writ*'— 
Could  it  be  spite  or  envy  ?-^<  No— 
Who  did  no  ill*  could  have  no  foe.*'— 
So  wise  iimplidty  esteem'd* 
Quite  otherwise  true  wisdom  deea'd  ; 
This  question  rightly  understood, 
*'  What  more  prorokes  than  doing  good  I 
A  soul  ennobled  and  rsfinVl 
Reproaches  every  baser  mind  : 
As  strains  exalted  and  melodiovs 
Make  evtfry  meaner  music  odkiM.''—        * 

At  length  the  nightingale  *  was  heaid, 
Fbr  voice  and  wisdom  king  rovar'd* 
Esteem'd  of  all  the  wiro  and  ^oad* 
The  guardian  genius  of  the  wioods 
He  long  in  dis^Mtant  letir^ 
Yet  not  obscur>d*  ba(t  man  adttor^ 
His  brethren's  servile  sonls  dirinininfc 
He  liv'd  hidignant  and  conplaiiiog.: 
They  now  afresh.proroke  his  oMsr 
( It  seems  the  lark  bad  ^besft  his  aoholai^ 


»Dr.T— B. 
''DnSb6iidt& 


«  Bight  fassLtt(|i*llriMb 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


4SS 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


A  fiivoorite  scholar  ahrayi  near  him, 

And  oft>  had  wakM  whole  nights  to  bear  him) : 

Enrag'd  be  canvasses  the  matter, 

Exposes  all  their  senseless  chatter, 

Shows  him  and  them  in  sach  a  light, 

Ab  more  inflames,  yet  quells  their  spite. 

They  bear  his  voice,  and  frighted  fly, 

For  rage  had  rais*<I  it  very  high : 

Sham'd  by  the  wisdom  of  his  notes, 

Hiey  hide  their  heads,  and  hnsb  their  throats. 


ANSfVER  TO  DR.  DELANVS  FABLE 

OF  THE 

PHEASANT  AND  THE  LARK. 

Ik  ancient  Umes,  the  wise  were  able 

In  proper  terms  to  write  a  fable : 

Their  teles  would  always  justly  suit 

The  characters  of  every  brute. 

The  ass  was  dull,  the  lion  brave. 

The  steg  was  swift,  the  fox  a  knave ; 

The  daw  a  thief,  the  ape  a  droll ; 

The  hound  would  scent,  the  wolf  would  prole ; 

A  pigeon  would,  if  shown  by  Asop, 

Ply  from  the  hawk,  or  pick  his  pease  op, 

Par  otherwise  a  great  divine 

Has  learnt  his  fables  to  refine : 

He  jumbles  men  and  birds  together. 

As  if  they  all  were  of  a  feather: 

You  see  him  first  the  peacock  bring. 

Against  all  rules,  to  be  a  king ; 

That  in  his  toil  he  wore  his  eyes. 

By  which  he  grew  both  rich  and  wise. 

Kow,  pray,  observe  the  doctor's  choice, 

A  peacock  chose  for  flight  and  vwce : 

Did  ever  mortal  see  a  peacock 

Attempt  a  flight  above  a  haycock  ? 

And  for  his  singing,  doctor,  you  know, 

Himself  complained  of  it  to  Juno. 

He  squalls  in  such  a  hellish  noise. 

It  frightens  all  the  village  boys. 

This  peacock  kept  a  standing  force, 

In  regiments  of  foot  and  horse ; 

Had  statesmen  too  of  every  kind, 

Who  waited  on  his  eyes  behind 

(And  this  was  thought  the  highest  post ; 

For,  rule  the  rump,  you  rule  the  roast;. 

The  doctor  names  but  one  at  present. 

And  he  of  all  birds  was  a  pheasant 

This  pheasant  was  a  man  of  wit. 

Could  read  all  books  were  ever  writ ; 

And,  when  among  companions  privy, 

Gould  quote  you  Cicero  and  Uvy. 

Birds,  as  he  says,  and  1  allow, 

Were  scholars  then,  as  we  are  now ; 

Could  read  all  volumes  up  to  (olios, 

And  feed  on  fricassees  and  olios. 

This  pheasant,  by  the  peacock's  will. 

Was  viceroy  of  a  neighbouring  hill  j 

And,  as  he  wandered  in  his  park. 

He  chanc*d  to  ^y  a  clergy  lark  ; 

Was  taken  with  his  person  outwud. 

So  prettily  he  pipk/d  It  cow  t^-d ; 

Then  in  a  net  the  pheasant  caught  him. 

And  in  his  palace  fed  and  taught  him. 

The  moral  of  the  tale  is  pleasant. 

Himself  tbe  lark,  my  lord  the  pheasant : 


A  laik  he  is,  and  mdi  4  tiilt 

As  never  came  ftom.  Noah's  aik  t 

And  though  he  had  no  other  notion. 

But  building,  planmng,  and  devolioo  $. 

Though  tis  a  maxim  yon  mdst  know. 

Who  does  no  ill,  can Jiave  no  foe; 

Yet  how  shall  I  expre«  in  worda 

The  strange  stupidity  of  birds  } 

This  lark  was  hated  in  the  wood. 

Because  he  did  his  brethren  good.  ■ 

At  last  the  nightingale  comes  in. 

To  hold  the  doctor  by  the  chin : 

We  all  can  find  out  wiukt  he  meam^ 

The  worst  of  disafiected  deans  ; 

Whose  wit  at  best  was  next  to  nooe^ 

And  now  that  little  next  is  gone. 

Against  the  court  is  always  Uabbing^, 

And  calls  the  senate-house  a  cabin  ; 

So  dull,  that,  but  for  q>leen  and  spite. 

We  ne'er  should  know  that  he  could  write  ^ 

Who  thinks  the  nation  always  err'd. 

Because  himself  is  not  preferr'd : 

His  heart  \s  through  his  libel  seen. 

Nor  could  his  malice  spare  the  queen  ; 

Who,  had  she  known  his  vile  befaavioor. 

Would  ne'er  have  shown  him  so  much  favonft 

A  noble  loni  i  bath  told  his  pranks. 

And  well  deserves  the  nation's  thanks. 

Oh !  would  the  senate  deign  to  show 

Resentment  on  this  public  foe  ; 

Our  nightingale  might  fit  a  cage. 

There  let  him  starve,  and  vent  his  rage  ; 

Or,  would  they  but  in  fetters  bind 

This  enemy  of  human-kind  I 

Harmonious  Oofiee  3,  Show  thy  zeal. 

Thy  champion  for  the  common-weal  i 

Nor  on  a  theme  like  this  repine^ 

For  once  to  wet  thy  pen  divine  i 

Bestow  that  libeler  a  lash. 

Who  daily  vends  seditious  trash ; 

Who  dares  revile  the  nation's  wisdom^ 

But  in  the  praise  of  virtue  is  dumb : 

That  scribbler  lash,  who  neither  knows 

The  turn  of  verse,  not  style  of  pnwe ; 

Wliose  malice,  for  the  worst  *  of  ends. 

Would  have  us  lose  our  English  feiendsj 

Who  never  had  one  public  thought,    - 

Nor  ever  gave  the  poor  a  groat. 

One  clincher  more,  and  I  have  done, 

I  end  my  labours  with  a  pun. 

Jove  send  this  nightingale  may  fall, 

Who  spends  his  day  and  night  m  gaUi 

So,  nightlngfl^le  and  lark,  adieu  ; 

I  see  the  greatest  owls  in  you 

That  ever  screecht,  or  ever/«ir. 


ON  THE  IRISH  CLUB., 

Ys  paltry  underlings  of  state ; 
Ye  senatbrs,  who  love  to  prate  | 
Ye  rascals  of  inferior  note, 
Who  for  a  dinner  sell  a  vote ; 

1 L.  Allen,  the  same  who  is  meant  by  IVnte 
JD.  ^. 
s  A  Dublin  garrettaer. 
9  See  a  new  song  oa  A  wditioas  puBphlct  p.  411 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  MARRIAGE. 


*sir 


Te  ptdl  of  pentoimry  peert, 
WkoM  fingers  itch  for  poefei^  eart ; 
Ye  biibopt  &r  removM  from  saints  ; 
Why  all  this  ni|(e  ?  Why  these  conpUunU? 
Why  agahnt  printers  all  this  noise  ^ 
This  sumoMiiing  of  bkckgnard  boys  ? 
Why  so  sagacious  in  your  guesses  } 
Your  eft,  and  tees,  and  arrs,  and  essesf 
Take  my  advice ;  ta  make  you  safe, 
I  know  a  shorter  way  by  half. 
The  point  is  plain :  remove  the  cause  ; 
Uefeod  your  liberties  and  laws. 
Be  sometinses  to  your  country  true. 
Have  onee  the  public  good  in  view: 
"BrrnnHy  despise  champagne  ct  ooort. 
And  ehose  to  dine  at  home  with  port  t 
IM  prelates,  by  then*  good  behaviourf 
OoBvinee  us  they  believe  a  ^vioor  ; 
^  Nor  sell  what  they  so  tlearly  bought. 
This  country,  now  their  own,  foe  nought 
Ne'er  did  a  true  satidc  3iuse 
Virtne  or  innocence  abuse ; 
And  tis  agahist  poetic  rules 
To  rail  at  men  by  natore  foob : 
But  ♦♦♦   «««#«# 


THS  PHOQRESS  OF  MARRiAGB  K 

JB/Tjnn  mm  fifty-two^ 

A  rich  divine  *  bqpan  to  woo 

A  handsome,  young,  imperious  girl« 

Nearly  related  to  an  eaii 

Her  parents  and  her  friends  eonsent^ 

The  couple  to  the  temple  went: 

They  irst  invite  the  Cyprian  queen ; 

T'was  ans^ei'd,  *<  She  would  not  be  seen  i** 

The  Grsees  next,  and  all  tboMusas^ 

Ware  bid  in  form,  but  seat  exeaaefc 

Jvno  attended  at  the  porch* 

With  fiurthing-candle  for  a  torch  j 

While  mistress  Iris  held  her  train. 

The  Med  bow  distilling  ram. 

Ttei  Hebe  came,  and  took  her  phu^ 

Bat  showed  no  more  than  half  h«r  fiu:e. 

Whatever  those  dire  forebodmgs  meant, 
Uk  HUrth  the  wedding-^lay  was  spent ; 
The  weddinf-day,  yon  taka  me  right, 
I  ptomiM  nothing  for  the  m'ght 
The  bridegroom,  drett  to  make  a  figure^ 
AMames  an  artiAeial  vigour; 
A  tfourish'd  night-eatp  on,  to  grace 
liif  niddy,  wrinkled,  smiliiY  ^we; 
like  the  fsint  red  upon  a  pippin, 
Balfwither'd  by  a  whiieff*s  keeping; 

And  thns  set  ont  this  hsqppy  pair, 
The  twain  is  rich,  the  nymph  is  foir  : 
Bnt,  whet  I  gladly  wooM  forget. 
The  swam  is  old,  the  nymph  ooqnaite^ 
Bpth  from  the  goal  together  start, 
flearoe  me  a  step  before  they  pert  I 
Ifo  eonimon  hgameat  that  binds 
The  varioni  textures  of  their  nunit; 
Tbeb  thoo^  and  actions,  hopes 
JLm  eonespondng  tlM  their  yen 


'^^ud  heroorUuspooieieaiiloOTik  M 


Her  spouse  desires  his  coffee  toon. 

She  rises  to  her  tea  at  noon. 

While  he  goes  out  to  cheapen  books. 

She  at  her  glass  consults  her  looks  ; 

While  Betty  *h  bozsrag  in  her  ear, 

'*  Lord,  what  a  dress  these  parsons  wear ! 

So  odd  a  choice  how  could  she  make  !** 

Wish'd  him  a  colonel  for  her  sake. 

Then,  on  her  fingers*  ends,  she  counts. 

Exact,  to  what  his  age  amounts. 

The  dean,  she  heard  her  uncle  say. 

Is  sixty,  if  he  be  a  day ; 

His  ruddy  cheeks  are  no  disguise  $ 

You  see  the  crows-feet  round  hit  eyei* 

At  one  she  rambles  to  the  shops. 
To  cheapen  tea,  and  talk  with  fops| 
Or  calls  a  council  of  her  maids, 
And  tradesmen,  to  compete  brocadeiw 
Her  weighty  moming-busioess  o'er. 
Sits  down  to  dinner  just  at  ftmr ; 
Minds  nothing  that  is  done  or  said. 
Her  evening-work  so  fills  her  head* 
The  dean,  who  us'd  to  dme  at  one. 
Is  maokish,  and  his  stomach  gone ; 
In  threed-hare  gown,  would  scarce  a  loose  hM^ 
Looks  like  the  chaplain  of  his  household  ; 
Beholds  her,  from  the  diaplain's  pfaMse, 
In  French  brocades,  and  Flanders  lace  e 
He  wonders  whit  employs  her  brain. 
But  never  asks,  or  asks  in  vain  ; 
His  mind  is  full  of  other  cares. 
And,  in  the  sneaking  parson's  atr^ 
Compotes,  that  half  a  parish  duet 
Will  hardly  find  his  wtfe  in  shoes. 

Canst  thou  imagine,  doll  divine. 
Twill  gain  her  love,  to  make  her  fine; 
Hath  she  no  other  wants  beside  } 
You  raise  desire,  as  well  as  pride^ 
Entidng  coxcombs  to  adore. 
And  teach  her  to  despise  thes  more. 

If  hi  her  coach  she  '11  condescend 
To  plaee  him  at  the  hinder  end. 
Her  hoop  is  hoist  above  his  nose, 
His  odkms  gown  would  soil  her  cfothet; 
And  drops  hhn  at  the^hnrch,  to  psny. 
While  she  drives  on  to  see  the  pl^. 
He,  l&e  an  ovderiy  divine. 
Comes  home  a  quarter  after  nine. 
And  meets  her  hasting  to  the  balls 
Her  chahrmen  push  him  from  the  wal^ 
He  enters  in,  sod  ^raUn  np  staors. 
And  calls  the  fomily  to  pimyen  ; 
Then  goes  ahme  to  take  his  rest 
In  bed,  where  he  cea  spare  her  bert» 
At  five  the  footmen  make  a  dm» 
Her  ladyship  is  just  come  in; 
The  masquerade  began  at  two^ 
She  stole  away  with  mnch  ad6| 
And  shall  be  chid  this  afteinoan. 
For  leaving  company  so  soon : 
She  11  say,  and-sbe  may  tmly  ley  % 
She  can^  abide  to  stay.oat  Into. 
.    But  now,  though  soaiee  a  twelvemonlh  tumfd. 
Poor  lady  Jane  has  thrice  mitcarry'd: 
|The  cause,  alas,  b qniokly  gnest; 
jllie  town  lias  whispeHd  round  the  jait. 
rThink  on  some  leinedy  In  time, 
You  find  hit  nfemoe  pa^  hii  prine^ 

li    Kk 


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49« 


SWIFTS  POEMS.  ' 


Already  dwindled  to  a  lath ; 
No  Dther  way  but  try  the  bath. 

For  Venus,  rising  fipom  the  ocean, 
Infus'd  a  strong  pn>Ufio  potion. 
That  mix'd  with  Acheloiit*  spring. 
The  homed  flood,  as  poets  sing. 
Who,  with  an  English  beauty^  smitten. 
Ran  under-ground  from  CJreece  to  Britain  ; 
The  genial  virtue  with  him  brought, 
And  gave  the  qymph  a  plenteous  draught; 
Then  fled,  and  left  his  horn  beh'md, 
For  husbands  past  their  youth  to  find : 
The  nymph,  who  still  with  passion  bum'd, 
Was  to  a  boiling  fountain  turned, 
Where  childless  wives  crowd  every  mom, 
To  drink  in  Acbeloiis*  horn. 
And  here  the  lather  often  gains 
That  title  by  another's  pains. 

Hither,  though  much  against  the  grain^ 
The  dean  has  carry'd  lady  Jane. 
He,  for  a  while,  #ould  not  consent, 
But  vow'd  bis  money  all  was  spent : 
Jlis  mouey  spent !  a  clownish  reason  i 
And  must  my  lady  slip  her  season  ? 
Tl)e  doctor,  with  a  double  fee, 
Was  brib'd  to  make  the  dean  agree. 

Here  all  diversions  of  the  place 
Are  proper  in  my  lady's  case : 
With  which  she  patiently  complies^ 
Merely  because  her  friends  advise ; 
fiis  money  and  her  time  emplojrs 
In  music,  rafl^ingrTOoms,  and  toys ; 
Or  in  the  Cross-bath  seeks  an  heir. 
Since  others  oft  have  found  one  there : 
Where  if  the  dean  by  chance  appears. 
It  shames  his  caasoc  and  Us  years. 
He  keeps  bis  distance  in  the  gaHery, 
Till  banish'd  by  some  coxcomb's  raillery; 
For  'twould  hb  character  expose. 
To  bathe  among  the  belles  and  beaux. 

So  have  1  seen,  within  a  pen. 
Young  ducklings  foster'd  by  a  hen ; 
But,  when  let  out,  they  nm  and  niuddli^ 
As  instinct  leads  them,  in  a  puddle : 
The  sober  hen,  not  born  to  swim. 
With  mournful  note  clucks  rontid  the  brim. 

The  dean,  with  all  his  best  endeavour. 
Gets  not  an  heir,  hot  gets  a  fever. 
A  victim  to  the  last  essays 
Of  vigour  in  declining  days. 
He  dies,  and  leaves  lus  noummg  mata 
(What  could  he  less  ?)  bis  whole  estate. 
^  The  widow  goes.^brongh  all  her  forms : 
Kew  lovers  now.  will  come  in  iwarms. 
Oh,  may  I  see  her  soon  dispensing 
Her  favours  to  some  broken  ensign  t 
Him  let  her  marry,  for  his  face, 
And  only  coat  of  tamisb'd  lace  ; 
To  turn  her  naked  (rat  of  doors. 
And  spend  her  jointure  on  hit  whorat ; 
But,  for  a  parting  proMnt,  leave  her 
A  rooted  pox  to  last  for  ererl 


A}f  EXCELLENT  KEW  BALLAD  t 

OR,  TRB 

TRUE  ENGLISH  DEAN  > 

TO  31  HANGID  POf  A  lUPB.   1730. 

Our  brethren  of  England,  who  love  ns  so  dear. 

And  in  all  they  do  for  us  so  kindly  do  mean, 
(A  blessing  upon  them  !)  have  sent  us  this  year. 

For  the  good  of  our  church,  a  true  English  deao. 
A  holier  priest  ne^er  was  wrapt  up  in  crape ; 
The  worst  you  can  say,  he  committed  a  rape. 
In  his  journey  to  Dublin,  he  lighted  at  Chester, 

And  there  he  grew  fond  of  apotber  man's  wife ; 
Burst  iuto  her  chamber,  and  would  have  caress'dbcar^ 

But  she  valued  her  honour  much  more  than  kct 
life. 
She  bustled  and  struggled,,  and  made  her  escapa 
To  a  room  full  of  guests,  for  fear  of  a  rape. 
The  dean  be  pursued,  to  recover  his  game ; 

And  now  to  attack  her  again  he  prepares : 
But  the  company  stood  in  defence  of  the  dame,  ^ 

They  cudgePd,  and  cuffed  him,  and  kickM  hot 
down  stairs. 
His  deanship  was  now  in  a  damnable  Bcrape, 
And  this  was  no  time  for  committing  a  rape. 
To  Dublin  he  comes,  to  the  bagnio  he  goes. 

And  orders  the  landlord  to  bring  him  a  wlioce  ^ 
No  scruple  came  on  him,  his  gown  to  expose, 

'Twas  what  all  his  life  he  had  practit'd  before. 
He  had  made  hifnself  (drunk  with  the  juice  of  the 

grape. 
And  got  a  good  clap,  but  committed  no  rape. 
The  dean,  and  his  landlord,  a  jolly  comrade, 

Resolv'd  for  a  fortnight  to  swim  in  de%ht ; 
For  why,  they  had  both  been  brought  up  to  the  tride 

Of  drinking  all  day,  and  of  whoring  all  nighty 
Hin  landlord  was  ready  lus  deanship  to  ape 
In  every  debauch  bvt  committmg  a  rape. 
This  protestant  zealot*  tftiis  Snglish  divine. 

In  church  and  in  9tate  was  of  principles  sound ; 
Was  truer  than  Steele  to  the  Hanover  line. 

And  griev'd  that  a  Tory  should  live  above  ground. 
Shall  a  subject  so  l^yal  be  hangM  by  the  nape. 
For  no  other  crime  hut  committmg  a  rape  ? 
By  old  popish  canons,  as  wis^  men  luve  peno'd  *ea^ 

Each  priest  had  a  concubine,  jure  eccletut ; 
Who  'd  be  dean  of  Fernes  without  a  commendmm  f 

And  precedents  we  can  produce,  if  it  please  yar 
Then  why  should  the  dean,  when  w}uireaareao<diesf| 
Be  put  to  the  peril  and  toil  of  a  rape  ? 
If  fortune  should  please  hut  to  take  sucli  a  erotche| . 

(To  thee  I  apply,  great  Smedley's  tuooesMir) 
To  give  thee  lavan  sleeves,  a  mitre,  and  rycket. 

Whom  wouldst  thou  resemble?  I  leave  ttee  f 
guesser. 
But  I  only  behold  thee  in  Akbertoii'f  >  shape^ 
For  jocbmjf  hang^  ;  aa  thoa  for  a  rape. 
Ah  !  dost  thou  not  envy  the  brave  colonel  ChatfrM, 

Gondemn'd  for  thy  crime  at  threesoore-and-ten  I 
T<^ha]ighim,allEngland  would  lend  him  their  gartens 

Yet  he  Href,  and  is  ready  to  ravish  agam. 

xScwbridge^deanarFenes.    K 
>A  bishop  U  Waterfoid,  of  infoawut. ci|a|» 
ttr.    M 


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THE  LADY'S  DRESSING  ROOM. 


499 


Then  throttle  thyself  with,  an  ell  of  strong  tape, 
Por  tbon  hast  not  a  groat  to  atone  for  a  rape. 
Tbe  dean  he  was  vex'd  that  bis  whores  were  so 
willing : 

He  long'd  fora  girl  that  woold  ttrngg leand  squall ; 
He  ravtsh'd  her  fairly,  and  savM  a  gniod  shilhng; 

But  here  was  tfi  pay  the  devil  and  alL 
His  troubles  and  sorrows  now  come  in  a  heap, 
And  hangM.he  must  be  fur  oonimitting  a  Tape. 
1{  maidens  are  ra\-ish*d,  it  is  their  own  choice : 

"Why  are  Aey  so  wilfal  to  struggle  with  men? 
If  they  wo«ld  but  lie  qui«t  and  stifle  their  Voice, 

No  devil  or  dean  could  ravish  them  then : 
Nor  would  there  be  need  of  a  strong  hempen  cape 
Ty'd  round  the  dean's  neck  for  committing  a  rape. 
Our  church  and  our  state  dear  England  maintains, 

For  which  all  true  protestjmt  hearts  should  beglad : 
She  sends  us  oar  bishops,  and  judges,  and  deans; 

And  better  would  give  us,  if  better  she  liad. 
But,  lord !  how  the  rabble  will  stare  and  will  gape. 
When  the  good  English  dean  'is  hang'd  up  for  a  rape. 


ON  STEPHEN  BUCK. 
THE  THRESHER  AND   FAVOURITE   POET. 

A  QUIBBLINO  SriGRAM.       1130, 

Tbb  thresher  Duck  could  o'er  the  qrieen  prevail ; 
The  proverb  say»,  nofynce  against  •faiL 
From  threshing  com  he  turns  to  threih  his  brains  ; 
For  Which  her  majesty  allows  him  grains. 
Though  'tis  confcst,  that  those  who  ever  saw 
His  poems,  think  them  alt  not  worth  a  $travo  ! 

Thrice  happy  Duck,  employed  hi  threshing  «/«^/#/ 
Thy  toH  is  lessened,  and  tliy  proGts  double. 


LADY'S  DRESSING'ROOM,    1730. 

Fnrt  hours  (and  who  can  do  it  less  in  ?) 
By  haughty  Csslia  spent  in  dressing ; 
The  goddess  from  her  chamber  issues, 
Anrny'd  fn  lace,  brocades,  and  tissues. 
Btrephon  who  foond  tbe  room  was  void^ 
And  Betty  otbenrtsc  employ 'd, 
fitole  in,  and  took  a  strict  survey 
Of  all  the  litter  as  it  lay : 
Whereof,  to  make  tbe  matter  clear, 
An  iiwtnUynf  follows  here. 

And,  first,  a  dirty  smock  appear'd, 
Btneath  the  arm-pits  well  bcsmear'd ; 
Btrepbon,  the  rogue,  displayed  it  wide. 
And  tam'd  it  round  on  every  side : 
In  aoch  a  case,  few  words  ane  best. 
And  Strephon  bids  us  guess  the  rest; 
But  swears,  how  damnably  the  men  lit 
In  calling  Oelia  iweet  and  cleanly. 

Now  listen,  while  be  next  produces 
Tlie  varioos  combs  for  various  uste; 
FUl'd-np  with  dirt  so  closely  fiitt, 
Ko  brash  could  force  a  way  betwbtt ; 
A  paste  of  composition  rare, 
pntX^  dandri^  powder,  lea^  and  hm 


A  forehead-cloth  with  oQ  upon 't 

To  smooth  tbe  wrinkles  on  her  front : 

Here  alum-flower,  to  stop  the  steams 

Exhal'd  from  sour  unsavory  streams ; 

There  night-gloves  made  of  Tripsey's  hide. 

Bequeathed  by  Tripspy  when  sbe  died  j 

V^'^ith  puppy-water,  beauty's  help, 

DistilPd  firora  Tripsey's  darling  whelp. 

Here  gallipots  and  vials  plac'd, 

Some  nird  with  washes,  some  with  paste  | 

Some  with  pomatums,  paints,  and  ^ops. 

And  ointments  good  for  scabby  chops. 

Hard-by  a  tiltby  bason  stands, 

PouI'd  with  the  scouring  of  her  hands : 

The  bason  takes  whatever  comes. 

The  scrapings  from  her  teeth  and  gums, 

A  nasty  compound  of  all  hues,  ' 

For  here  she  spits,  and  here  she  spues. 

But,  oh  !  it  tnmM  poor  Strephon's  bowel^ 
When  he  beheld  and  smelt  the  towels, 
Begumm'd,  bematter'd,  and  beslim'd, 
With  dirt,  and  sweat,  and  ear-wax  grim'd. 
No  object  Strephon*s  eye  escapes ; 
Here  petticoats  in  frowzy  heaps  ; 
Nor  be  the  handkercbiefe  forgot 
All  vamish'd  o'er  with  snuff  and  snoL 
The  stoekhigs  why  should  I  expose, 
Stain'd  with  the  moisture  of  her  toes ; 
Or  greasy  coift,  or  pinners  reeking. 
Which  CBlia  slept  at  least  a  week  in  ? 
A  pair  of  tweezers  next  he  found,       • 
To  pluck  her  brows  in  arches  round  ; 
Or  hairs  that  sink  the  forehead  low. 
Or  on  her  chin  like  bristles  grow. 

The  virtues  we  must  not  let  pass 
Of  Cilia's  magnifying-glass ; 
When  frighted  Stiephon  cast  his  eye  on  % 
It  show'd  the  visage  of  a  giant : 
A  glass  that  can  to  sight  disclose 
The  smallest  worm  in  Cslia's  nose. 
And  faithfully  direct  her  nail 
To  squeeze  it  out  from  head  to  tail ; 
F6r,  catch  it  nicely  by  the  head. 
It  must  come  out,  alive  or  dead. 
,  Why,  Strephon,  will  you  tell  the  rest  f 
And  must  you  ne^  describe  the  chest  ? 
That  careless  wench  1  no  creature  iram  her 
To  move  it  out  from  yonder  comer ! 
But  leave  it  standing  full  in  sight. 
For  you  to  exercise  your  spite  ? 
In  vain  the  workman  show'd  his  wit^ 
With  rings  and  hinges  counterfiut. 
To  make  it  seem  in  this  ditguite 
A  cabinet  to  vulgar  eyes. 
Which  Strephon  venturM  to  look  In, 
Resolv*d  to  go  through  thick  and  thtm 
He  lifts  the  lid :  there  needs  no  mor^ 
He  smelt  it  all  the  time  before. 

As,  from  within  Pandora's  bos. 
When  Epimetheus  op'd  the  looki^ 
A  sudden  universal  crew 
Of  human  evils  upward  ilew, 
He  still  was  oomforted  to  find 
That  hepe  at  last  ramain'd  behind  | 
So  Stfephon  lifting  up  tbe  bd. 
To  view  what  in  tibe  chest  was  bkl. 
The  vapours  flew  from  out  the  vent : 
But  Strephon,  cautious,  never  mean! 
Tlie  bottom  of  tbe /m  to  gnpe, 
And  foul  hb  iHodi  in  mrch  jQf  A^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


§06 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Oh  ?  i^*er  may  such  a  vile  machine 
Be  ooce  in  CaBlia's  chamber  seen  ! 
Ob  !  may  she  better  learn  to  keep 
Those  secrets  of  the  hoary  deep  *  / 

As  mutton-cutlets,  prime  if  meat  <, 
Which  though  with  art  you  salt  and  beat. 
As  laws  of  cookery  require, 
And  roast  them  at  the  clearest  fire ; 
If  from  adown  the  hopefiil  chops 
The  fat  upon  a  cinder  di«ops. 
To  stinking  smoke  it  turns  the  flame, 
Poisoning  the  flesh  from  whence  it  came. 
And  up  exhales  a  greasy  stench, 
For  which  you  curse  the  careless  wench : 
So  things  which  must  not  be  exprest. 
When  plumpt  into  the  reeking  chest. 
Send  up  an  excrenwntal  smell 
To  taint  the  parts  from  whence  they  fell ; 
The  petticoats  and  gown  perfume. 
And  waft  a  stink  round  every  room. 

Thus  finishing  his  grand  survey. 
The  swain  disgusted  slunk  away  j 
Eepeadng  in  his  amorous  fits, 
"  Oh  !  CsBlia,  C*lia,  Oelia  sh— «  !»• 
But  Vengeance,  goddess  never  sleeping. 
Soon  punish'd  Strephon  for  his  peeping  : 
His  foul  imagination  links 
Each  dame  he  tees  with  all  her  stinks  ^ 
And,  if  unsavory  odours  fly, 
Ccmceivet  a  lady  standing  by. 
All  women  his  description  fits. 
And  both  ideas  jump  like  wits; 
By  viciouf  ftincy  coupled  fast, 
And  still  appearing  in  contrast, 

I  pity  wretched  Strephon,  blind 
To  all  the  charms  of  womau-kind. 
Should  I  the  queen  of  love  refuse, 
Because  she  rose  from  stinking  ooze  } 
''To  him  that  looks  behind  the  scene, 
Statira  's  but  some  pocky  quean. 

When  Oelia  all  her  glory  show», 
If  Strephon  wouki  but  stop  his  nose, 
Who  now  so  impiously  blasphemes 
Her  ointments,  dauba,  and  paints,  and  creams, 
Her  washes,  slops,  and  every  clout. 
With  whkih  he  makes  so  foul  a  rout; 
He  toon  would  learn  to  think  like  me» 
And  Mess  his  ravish'd  eyes  to  see 
Such  order  from  confusk>n  sprung, 
9ach  gaudy  tulips  ^iy'd  fipom  dun^ 


THE  POWER  OF  TIME.    1750. 

Ip  ndther  brass  nor  m«rble  can  withstand 
The  mortal  force  of  Time's  destructive  hand  ; 
If  mountains  sink  to  vales,  if  cities  die, 
And  lessening  rivers  mourn  their  fountains  dry : 
When  my  old  cassoc  (said  a  Welsh  divine^ 
If  OQt  at  elbows;  why  should  1  repine  ? 


ON  MR.  PULTENEY'S^ 

BEING  POT  OCT  OF  THE  COUNCIL    173J. 

Sia  Robert,  weary'd  by  Will  Pulteney's  teasiop^ 
Who  interrupted  him  in  aU  his  leasmgs. 


Resolv'd  that  Will  and  he  llioiild  meet  no  more  f 
Full  in  his  face  Bob  shuts  the  council-door; 
Nor  lets  him  sit  as  'jnstii*e  on  the  bench. 
To  punish  theives,  or  lash  a  saburb-weodk 
Yet  still  St  Stephen's  ehapet  open  lies 
For  Will  to  ente^— What  shall  I  advise  ? 
£v*n  quit  the  nonss,  for  thou  too  long  hast  sat  in  *t ; 
Produce  at  last  thy  dormant  ducal  patent ; 
There,  near  thy  master's  throne  ro  shelter  plaeM* 
Let  Wilt  unheard  by  thee  his  thunder  waste. 
Yet  still  I  fear  your  work  is  done  but  half; 
For,  while  be  keeps  his  pen,  you  are  not  safe. 

Hear  an  old  fable,  and  a  ^ull  one  too ; 
It  bears  a  moral,  when  apply'd  to  you. 

A  hare  had  long  escap'o  pursuing  houndt^ 
By  often  shifting  into  distant  grounds;. 
Till,  finding  all  his  artifices  vain. 
To  save  his  life  he  leap'd  into  the  main. 
But  there,  alas  !  he  could  no  safety  find, 
A  pack  of  dog-fish  had  him  in  the  wind. 
He  scours  away ;  and,  to  avoid  the  foe. 
Descends  for  shelter  to  the  shades  below  t 
There  Cerberus  lay  watching  in  his  den 
(He  had  not  seen  a  hare  the  lord  knows  when). 
Out  bounc*d  the  mastiff  of  the  triple  bead ; 
Away  the  hare  with  double  swiftn^fled ; 
Hunted  from  earth,  and  sea,  and  Hell,  be  (liet 
(Fear  lent  him  wings)  for  safety  to  the  skies. 
How  was  the  fearful  animal  distrest ! 
Behold  a  foe  more  fierce  than  all  the  rest  I 
Sinus,  the  swiftest  of  the  heavenly  pack, 
Faird  but  an  inch  to  seize  him  by  the  back* 
He  fled  to  Earth,  but  first  it  cost  him  dear : 
He  left  his  scut  behind,  and  half  an  ear. 

Thus  was  the  hare  pursued,  though  free  from  goiltc . 
Thus,  Bob,  shalt  thou  be  maul'd,  fly  where  thou  wiML 
Then,  honest  Robin,  of  thy  corpse  beware  ; 
Thou  are  not  half  so  nimble  as  a  hare : 
Too  ponderous  is  thy  bulk  to  mount  the  sky  j 
Nor  can  you  go  to  If  ell,  before  3rou  die. 
So  keen  thy  hunters,  and  thy  scent  so  strong. 
Thy  turns  and  dtmbKngs  cannot  save  thee  long  ^ 


iMiltoOe 


t  Priou  Yhrorum. 


EPITAPH 

on 

FREDERICK  DUKE  OP  SCHOMBBRO\ 

Hie  infina  sitom  est  corp«is 

FREDERICl  DUCIS  DE  SCHOMBERO, 

ad  BUDINDAM  oocisi,  A.  D.  1690. 

BECANITS  et  CAPITULUM  maximopere  etiaqi 

atqne  etiam  petienint, 

Ut  HJEaanas  nocts  monnmentnm 

In  memoriam  pakbntis  erigendum  ourarest: 

Sed  poftqnam  per  epistolas,  per  amicoa, 

din  ao  scpi  orando  nil  profecire  ; 

*  This  hnntiqg  ended  in  the  piomotioa  both  oA 
Will  and  Bob.  Bob  was  no  longer  fiivt  minirtcf^ 
bntearlof  Orfbrd;  and  Will  was  no  lonflBr  h«  op- 
ponent, but  earl  of  Bath.    H. 

*  The  duke  was  unhappily  kille^t  in  crotsibv  ^, 
river  Boyne,  Jnly  I,  1690  j  and  ^  huivBd  a  St 
Patrick's  cathedral ;  where  the  dean  and  d»|f<|- 
erected  a  small  monument  t|^  hit  JwPpBHK|  nt^qpli^ 
owac 


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CASSINU8  AND  PCTER. 


lot 


HuDC  demum  lapidem  ipri  statiierunt, 

'  Salf em  ut  scias,  hospes, 

mHnmm  terranuD  SCONBEROCNSES  cineres 

deniescunt. 

**  Plot  potuit  fama  vittutis  aptid  alKMios, 

Quam  sanguinis  praximitaB  apud  suos." 

A.  IX  1731. 


CASS  IN  US  AND  PJRTER. 


A  TtAOICAL  ELBCT. 


1731. 


Two  C(A]ffge  sophs  of  Cambridge  growth, 

Both  special  wits,  andlovers  both. 

Conferring,  a^  they  u«d  to  meet. 

On  love,  and  books,  in  rapture  sweet  ' 

(Muse,  find  me  names  to  fit  my  metre, 

Cassmus  this,  and  t'  other  Peter)  ; 

Friend  Peter  to  Cassmus  goes. 

To  chat  awhile,  and  warm  his  nose : 

But  such  a  sight  was  never  seen. 

The  lad  lay  swalloWd  up  in  spleen. 

He  seem'dhas  just  crept  out  of  bed ; 

One  greasy  stocking  round  his  head. 

The  other  he  sat  down  to  deam 

With  threads  of  different  coloured  yam  ; 

His  breeches  torn  exposing  wide 

<A  ragged  shirt  and  tawny  hide. 

Scorch*d  were  his  shins,  his  legs  were  hire. 

But  well  embrownM  with  dirt  and  hair. 

A  rug  was  o'er  his  shoulders  thrown 

( A  rug ;  for  night-gown  he  bad  none). 

His  Jordan  stood  in  manner  fitting 

Between  bis  legs  to  spew  or  spit  in; 

His  ancient  pipe,  in  sable  dy'd. 

And  half  unsrook'd,  lay  by  his  side. 

Him  thus  accoutred  Peter  found, 
With  eyes  in  smoke  and  weeping  drown'd  ; 
The  leavings  of  bis  last  night's  pot 
On  embers  placed,  to  drink  it  hot 

"  Why,  Cassy,  thou  wilt  doze  thy  pate : 
What  makes  thee  lie  a-bed  sa  hite  ^ 
The  finch,  the  linnet,  and  the  thrush. 
Their  matins  chant  in  every  bush : 
And  1  have  heard  thee  oft'  salute 
Aurora  with  thy  early  flute. 
Heaven  send  thou  hast  not  got  the  hyps  ! 
How!  not  a  word  come  from  thy  lips  ?'* 

Then  gave  him  some  fiuniliar  thumps; 
A  coU^ge-joke,  to  cure  the  dumps. 

The  swain  at  last,  with  grief  opprest, 
Cry'd,  "Qelia  I"  thrice,  and  sigh'd  the  rest  * 

"  Dear  Cwsy,  though  to  ask  I  dread. 
Yet  ask  1  must.  Is  Caslia  dead  ?" 

"  How  happy  I,  were  that  the  wowt  ? 
But  I  was  fiOed  to  be  cant." 

"  Come,  teU  us,  has  die  pUy'd  the  whoro  ?» 

"  Oh,  Peter,  woakl  it  wero  no  more !" 

"  Why,  pbgoe  confound  her  sandy  locks  I 
flay,  has  the  small  or  greater  pox 
Sunk  down  her  nose,  or  leam'd  her  fiMse  ? 
Be  easy,  tis  a  oominoa  case.'* 

9  The  woida  that  Dr.  Swift  first  concluded  the 
epitaph  with,  were  '*  SaHem  ut  sciat  viator  indig- 
nabnndui,  qnali-fai  citttiU  tafi^i  doctotit' etnereft 


••  Oh,  Peter !  beauty's  but  avamishf 
Which  time  ami  accidents  will  tarnish : 
But  Caelia  has  contriv'd  to  blast 
Those  beauties  that  might  ever  last. 
Nor  can  imagination  gyess. 
Nor  eloquence  daiiie  express. 
How  that  uograteful  charming  maid 
My  purest  passion  has  betray'd. 
Conceive  the  most  envenom'd  dart 
To  pierce  an  injur'd  lover's  heart"  /      ^ 

"  Why,  hang  her ;  though  she  seems  80  COY, 
I  know  she  loves  the  barber's  boy." 

"  Friend  Peter,  this  I  could  excuse  ; 
For  every  nymph  ha^  leave  to  chuse; 
Nor  have  I  rea5on  to  complain. 
She  loves  a  more  deserving  swain. 
But,  oh !  how  ill  hast  thou  divin'd  ' 

A  crime  that  shocks  all  human-kind; 
A  deed  unknown  to  female  race, 
At  which  the  Sun  should  hide  his  face  I 
Advice  in  vain  you  would  apply- 
Then  leave  me  to  despair  and  die. 
Ye  kind  Arcadians,  on  my  urn 
These  elegies  and  sonnets  bum ; 
And  on  the  marble  grave  these  rhymes^ 
A  monument  to  after-times : 

•  Here  Cassy  lies,  by  Caelia  slain. 
And  dying  never  told  his  pain.' 

Vam  empty  world,  farewell.    But  hai*. 
The  loud  Cerberian  triple  bark. 
And  there— behold  Alecto  stand, 
A  whip  of  scorpions  in  her  hand. 
Lo,  Charon  from  his  leaky  wherry 
Beckoning  to  waft  me  o'er  the  ferry. 
I  come,  I  come,  Medusa !  see. 
Her  serpents  hiss  direct  at  me. 
Begone  unhand  me,  hellish  fry  : 

*  Avaunt— ye  cannot  say  tis  I  ».» " 

**  Dear  Cassy,  thou  must  purge  and  bleed; 
I  fear  thon  wilt  be  mad  indeed. 
But  now,  by  friendship's  sacred  laws, 
I  here  conjure  thee,  tell  the  cause  ; 
And  C8Blia*9  horrid  fact  relate : 
Thy  friend  would  gladly  share  thy  fete." 

*•  To  force  it  out,  my  heart  must  rend : 
Yet  when  coiyur'd  by  such  a  fiiend— 
Think,  Peter,  how  my  soul  is  rackt ! 
These  eyes,  these  eyes,  beheld  the  fact 
Now  bend  thine  ear,  since  out  it  must; 
But  when  thou  seest  me  laid  in  dust. 
The  secret  thou  sbalt  ne'er  impart. 
Not  to  the  nsrmph  that  keeps  thy  heart; 
(How  would  her  virgin  soul  bemoan 
A  crime  to  all  her  sex  unknown  f ) 
Nor  whisper  to  the  tattling  reeds 
The  blackest  of  all  female  deeds  ; 
Nor  blab  it  on  the  lonely  rocks. 
Where  Echo  sits,  and  fistening  mocks; 
Nor  let  the  Zephyrs'  treacherous  gale 
Through  Cambridge  waft  the  direftil  tale; 
Nor  to  the  chattering  feather'd  race 
Discover  Oelia's  foul  disgrace. 
But,  if  yon  feil,  my  spectre  dread, 
Attooding  nightly  round  your  bed: 
And  yet  I  dare  oooflde  in  you : 
So  take  my  secret,  and  adieu* 
Nor  wonder  how  I  lost  my  witf  t 
Oh!  C«lia,CiBlia,Csblia,8h-«!«^ 


•SMMlKtett. 


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iot 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


A  BEAVTTFUL  YOUNG  NYMPH 
GOING  TO  BED. 

UrtlTTBH   FOR  THB  HONbVR  OF  tllE   FAIR  tCX. 

CoRiTfNA,  pride  of  Drury-laDe, 
For  whom  no  shepherd  sighs  m  vain  j 
Never  did  Covent-garden  hoast 
So  bngbt  a  batterM  stroltiDg  toast  I 
No  dhinken  rake  to  pick  her  up  j 
Ko  cellar,  where  on  tick  to  sup; 
Returning  at  the  midnigiit  liour, 
Four  stories  climbing  to  her  bower ; 
Then  seated  oh  a  three- Iegg*d  chair. 
Takes  off  her  artificial  hair« 
Now  picking  out  a  crystal  eye. 
She  wipes  it  clean,  and  lays  it  by  : 
Her  eye-brows,  from  a  moune's  bide. 
Stuck  on  with  art  on  either  side, 
Pulls  off  with  care,  and  firvt  displays  *cnT, 
Then  in  a  play-book  smoothly  lays  'em  : 
Now  dextronsly  her  plampers  draws. 
That  serve  to  till  her  hollow  jaws : 
Untwists  a  wire,  and  from  her  gums 
A  set  of  teeth  completely  comes : 
Pulls  out  the  rags  contriv'd  to  prop 
Her  flabby  dogs,  and  down  they  drop. 
Proceeding  on,  the  lovely  goddess 
Unlaces  next  her  sCeel-ribb'd  bodice. 
Which,  by  the  operator's  Kkill, 
Press  down  the  lumps,  the  hollows  (ilL 
Up  goes  her  hand,  and  off  she  slips 
The  bolsters  that  supply  her  hips. 
Withgentlest  touch  she  next  explores 
Her  fthankres,  issues,  running  sores, 
££fects  of  many  a  sad  disaster : 
And  then  to  each  applies  a  plaster : 
But  mufct,  before  she  goes  to  bed. 
Rub  off  the  daubs  of  white  and  red. 
And  smooth  tbe  furrows  in  her  front 
With  greasy  paper  stuck  upon  **^ 
She  takes  a  bolus  ere  she  sleeps ; 
And  then  between  two  blankets  creeps : 
With  pains  of  lore  tormented  lies; 
Or,  if  she  chance  to  close  her  ey«s, 
<H  Bridewell  and  the  Compter  dreanu, 
And  feels  the  lash  and  faintly  screams ; 
Or,  by  a  fiuthless  bully  drawn. 
At  some  hedge-tavern  lies  in  pawn ; 
Or  to  Jamacia  Seems  transported 
Alone,  and  by  no  planter  conrted; 
Or,  near  Fleet-ditch*s  oozy  brinks, 
Sarroniided  with  a  hundred  stinks. 
Belated,  seems  on  watoh  to  lie. 
And  snap  some  cully  passing  by ; 
Or,  struck  with  fear,  her  fancy  runs 
On  watchmen,  consUbles,  and  duns. 
From  whom  she  meets  with  frequent  rubs; 
!But  never  from  religious  clubs, 
Whose  favour  she  is  sure  to  find, 
Because  she  pays  tbe^i  all  in  kind. 

Corinna  wakes.    A  dreadful  sight ! 
Behold  the  ruins  of  the  night  I 
A  wicked  rat  her  plaster  stole. 
Half  eat,  and  dragged  it  to  his  hole. 
The  crystal  eye,  alas !  was  missed  ; 
And  poss  had  on  her  plumpers  p— ss'd* 
A  yiigeoa  pick'd  her  issue-peas : 
And  Shock  her  tnnei  filPd  with  ^eA 


The  njrmph^  though  in  thh  mapgted  pCgM; 
Must  every  mom  her  limbs  unite. 
But  how  shall  I  describe  her  arts 
To  re-collect  Uie  scattered  parts  ? 
Or  show  tbe  angaisb,  toil,  and  paiij. 
Of  gathering  up  herself  again  ? 
The  bashful  Muse  will  never  bear 
In  such  a  scene  to  interfere. 
Corinna  in  tbe  roomin|:  dizcn**^. 
Who  sees,  will  sp\ie ;  who  smells,  be  potsoo'd. 


STREPIION  AND  CHLOE.  .  1131. 

Of  Chloe  all  the  town  has  rung. 

By  every  size  of  poatasung : 

So  beautiful  a  nymph  appears 

But  once  in  twenty  thousand  years  ; 

By  ^f^ature  formed  with  nicest  care, 

And  faultless  to  a  single  hair. 

Her  graceful  mein,  her  shape,  and  fhce, 

Confb;s*d  her  of  no  mortal  race : 

And  then  so  nice,  and  so  genteel } 

Snch  cleanliness  from  head  to  heel ; 

No  humonrs  gross,  or  frowzy  steams. 

No  noisome  whifi's,  or  sweaty  streains. 

Before,  behind,  above,  below,      ^> 

Orald  from  her  taintless  body  flow ; 

Would  so  discreetly  things  dispose. 

None  ever  saw  her  pluck  a  rose. 

Her  dearest  comrades  never  caught  her 

Squat  on  her  hams,  to  mske  maid*s  waters 

You  *d  swear  that  sor  divine  a  creature 

Felt  no  necessities  of  nature. 

In  summer  had  she  walk'd  the  town. 

Her  arm- pits  woiikl  not  stain  her  gown  r 

At  country-dances  not  A  noae  ^—^ 

Could  in  the  dog-days  smell  her  toes. 

Her  milk-white  hands,  both  pahns  and  backs,' 

Like  ivory  dry,  and  sofi  as  wax. 

Her  hands,  th«  softest  ever  leh. 

Though  cold  would  bum,  though  dry  would 

Dear  Venus,  hide  this  wondrous  maid, 
Ni»r  let  her  loose  to  spoil  your  trade. 
While  slie  engrosses  every  swain. 
You  but  oVr  half  the  world  can  reign. 
Think  what  a  case  all  knen  are  now  in. 
What  ogling,  sighmg,  toasthsg,  vowing  ! 
^^liat  poi^der'd  wigs  I  what  flames  and  darts  I 
What  hampers  full  of  bleeding  hearts  I 
What  sword-knots  1  what  poetic  strains  I 
What  billet-dowc,  and  clouded  canes ! 

But  Strepboo  sighed  so  loud  and  strongs 
He  blew  a  settlement  along ; 
And  bravely  drove  his  rivais  down 
With  coach  and  six,  and  house  in  towru 
Tbe  bashful  nymph  no  more  withstands^ 
Because  her  diear  papa  conmumds. 
The  charming  couple  now  unites  : 
Proceed  we  to  the  marriage-rites. 

Inanimis^  at  the  temple-porch 
Stood  Hymen  with  a  flamhag  torch  t 
The  smilmg  Cyprian  goddess  brings 
Her  infant  Loves  with  purple  wings  ; 
And  pigeons  billing,  sparrows  traadioi^ 
Fair  emblems  of  a  fruitful  wedding. 
The  Muses  next  in  order  follow. 
Conducted  by  their  squire,  Apollo : 
Then. Mercury  with  silver  tongue^ 
And  Hebe^  goddess  ever  youni^ 


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STREPHON  AND  CHLOE. 


iftOS 


iBebotd,  the  bridegroom  add  his  bride 
Walk  hand  in  hand,  and  side  by  side  i 
She  by  the  tender  Graces  drest. 
But  he  by  Mars,  in  scarlet  vest. 
The  nymph  was  cover'd  with  her Jlammeum, 
And  Ph<Kba8  sung  th'  epilAaiamium, 
And  last  to  make  the  matter  sure. 
Dune  Juno  brought  a  priest  demure. 
LAna  was  absent,  on  pretence 
Her  tame  was  not  till  nine  months  hence* 
The  rites  perform 'd,  the  xMrson  paid. 
In  state  retum'd  the  grand  parade : 
With  loud  huzza's  from  all  the  boys, 
That  now  the  pair  must  cwxon  their  joy^s 

But  still  the  hardest  part  remairis  t 
Strephon  bad  long  perplex*d  his  brv^^us, 
Uow  with  so  hrgh  a  nymph  he  lO^ght 
Demean  himself  the  wedding*r;,ght : 
For,  as  he  iriew'd  his  person  round. 
Mere  mortal  flesh  was  al*  he  found  : 
His  hand,  his  neck,  bh  mouth,  bis  feet. 
Were  duly  wash'd^  to  keep  them  sweet 
(With  other  pai^j*  that  shall  be  nameless, 
The  ladi^  d^  might  think  me  shameless). 
The  weaU*.er  and  his  love  were  hot ; 
And,  a^iould  he  struggle,  1  know  what— 
^^y,  let  it  go  if  I  mu<t  tell  it— 
^  '11  sweat,  and  then  the  nymph  may  smell  it; 

While  she,  a  goddess  dy'd  in  grain. 

Was  unsusceptible  of  stain, 

And,  Venns-Iike,  her  fragrant  skin 

£xbaPd  tonbrotia  from  within. 

Can  such  a  deity  endure 

A  mortal  human  touch  impure  ? 

How  did  the  humbled  swain  detest 

His  prickly  beard,  and  hairy  brea^ ! 

His  night-cap,  bordered  round  with  lace. 

Could  give  no  softness  to  his  face. 
Yet,  if  the  goddess  could  be  kind. 

What  endless  raptures  must  he  find  ! 

And  goddesses  have  now  and  then 

Come  down  to  visit  mortal  men  ; 

To  visit  and  to  court  them  too : 

A  certain  goddess,  God  knows  who, 

(As  in  a  book  he  heard  it  read) 

Took  colonel  Peleus  to  her  bed. 

But  what  if  he  should  lose  his  lifle 

By  venturing  on  bis  heaveuly  wife  ? 

(For  Strephon  could  remember  well. 

That  once  he  heard  a  school-boy  tell, 

How  Semele  of  mortal  race 

By  thunder  died  in  Jove*s  embrace.) 

And  what  if  daring  Strephon  dies 

By  lightn'mg  shot  from  Chloe's  eyes  > 
While  these  reflections  fiU'd  his  head. 

The  bride  was  put  in  form  to  bed : 

He  fblk)w'd,  stript,  and  in  he  crept^ 

Bat  awfully  his  distance  kept. 
Now  ponder  well,  ye  brents  dear  ; 

Forbid  your  daughters  puzzling  beer  | 

And  make  them  every  afternoon 

Forbear  their  tea,  or  drink  it  soon ; 

That,  ere  to  bed  they  venture  up. 

They  may  discharge  it  every  fiup : 

If  not,  they  must  in  evil'  plight 

Be  often  forced  to  rise  at  night 

Keep  them  to  wholesome  fbod  confin'd, 

Kor  let  fhem  taste  what  causes  wind : 

(TIs  this  the  sage  of  Samoa  means, 

Foihiddii^  bif  diidplet  beioM.) 


Oh  !  think  what  evils  mnst  ensue ; 
Miss  Moll  the  jade  wilLbt:^n  it  blue; 
And,  when  she  once  has  got  the  art^ 
She  cannot  help  it  for  her  heart  i 
But  out  it  flies,  ev*n  when  sh6  meets 
Her  bridegroom  In  the  wedding-sheets. 
Carminatwf  and  diuretic 
Will  damp  all  passion  sympathetic  : 
Af^  love  such  nieety  requires. 
One  blMsl  will  put  out  all  his  fires. 
Since  husbands  get  behind  the  scene. 
The  wife  should  study  to  be  clean ; 
Nor  give  the  smallest  room  to  guess 
The  time  when  wants  of  nature  pre»  ; 
But  after  marriage  practise  more 
Decorum  than  she  did  before ; 
To  keep  her  spouve  deluded  stilt, 
And  make  him  fancy  what  she  Will. 

In  bed  we  left^he  married  pair :  ^^ 

Tis  time  to  show  how  things  went  therey^ 
Strephon,  who  had  been  often  told     y 
lliat  fortune  still  assists  the  bold,    ' 
Resolv'd  to  make  the  first  attac^^  • 
"    But  Chk>e  drove  him  fierce! «j  heck. 
How  could  a  nymph  so  c'^,aste  as  Chlqe, 
With  Cfiustitution  colj  •md  snowy. 
Permit  a  brutish  ^an  to  touch  her  ? 
Ev»n  lambs  b-;  mstinct  fly  the  butcher. 
Resistance  ou  the  wedding'night 
Is  whaj^  our  maidens  claim  by  right: 
An^  Cbloe,  'tis  by  all  agreed, 
tVas  maid  in  thought,  and  word,  and  deed. 
Yet  some  assign  a  different  reason ;  . 
That  Strephon  chose  no  proper  season* 

Say  fair  ones,  must  J  make  a  pause. 
Or  freely  tell  the  secret  cau»e } 

Twelve  cups  of  tea  (with  grief  I  nieak) 
Had  now  constrainM  the  nymph  to  leak. 
This  point  must  needs  be  settled  first: 
The  bride  must  either  void  or  burst. 
Then  see  the  dire  efiects  of  pease  | 
Think  what  can  give  the  colic  ease. 
The  nymph,  oppressed  before,  behind. 
As  ships  are  tossM  by  waves  and  wind* 
Steals  out  her  baud,  by  nature  led. 
And  brings  a  vessel  into  bed ; 
Fair  utensil,  as  smooth  and  white 
As  Cbk)e*s  skin,  almost  as  bright. 

Strephon  who  heard  the  fuming  riU 
As  from  a  mossy  0110"  distil, 
Cry'd  out,  **  Ye  gods !  what  sound  is  this  ? 

Can  Chloe,  heavenly  Chloe, ?»♦ 

But  when  he  smelt  a  noisome  steam. 
Which  oft'  attends  that  luke^warm  stream  i 
(Salerno  both  together  joins. 
As  sovereign  medicines  for  the  lohii ;) 
And  though  contriv'd,  we  may  suppose. 
To  slip  his  ears,  yet  struck  his  nose ; 
He  found  her,  while  the  scent  increas'd. 
As  mortal  as  himself  at  least 
But  soon,  with  like  ocoasiooi  prett» 
He  boldly  sent  his  hand  in  quest 
(Inqnr'd  with  courage  firom  his  bride) 
To  reach  the  pot  on  t*  other  side ; 
And,  as  he  fill'd  the  reeking  vase, ' 
Let  fly  a  rouser  in  her  face. 

Hie  little  Cupids  hovering  ronnd, 
(As  pictures  prove,  with  garbmdt  cnmsfd) 
Abash'd  at  what  they  taw  and  heeid,       ' 
Flew  qS,  nor  ever  more  i^pe«r*4 


X 


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so* 


SWUTS  POEBiS. 


'  Adieu  to  ravbhing  ^eVighfs^  ^ 
J^^h  raptures,  and  romantic  flightf  t 
To  gM<i«9ge8  80  beaveoly  swee^ 
Expiring  shepi^^s  .t  their  feet ; 
To  silver  meads  ano  i^^^Av  bowers, 
DressM  up  with  amarantbiDe  fkjm^gt. 

How  great  a  change !  bow  quickly  i««4e  I 
They  learn  to  catl  a  spade  a  spade. 
They  soon  from  all  constraints  are  freed  ^ 
Can  see  each  other  do  their  need. 
On  box  of  cedar  sits  the  wife. 
And  makes  it  warm  for  dearest  life  ; 
And,  by  the  beastly  way  of  thinking. 
Finds  great  society  In  stinking. 
Now  Strephon  daily  entertains 
His  Chloe  in  the  homeliest  strains  ; 
And  Cbloe,  more  experienced  grown, 
With  interest  pays  him  back  his  own. 
^  maid  at  court  is  less  asbam'd, 
i°^er  for  selling  barga'ms  fam'd, 
inan  Sbvto  name  her  parts  t>ebind» 
Or  when  a.^^  to  let  out  wind. 

Fair  Decenfc,  celestial  maid  I 
Descend  from  He^^  ^o  beauty's  aid  I 
Though  beauty  may%,get  desire, 
Tis  thou  mu]»t  fan  the%wg  ^^^  . 
For  beauty,  like  supreme  douto^^ 
Is  best  supported  by  opinion: 
If  decency  bring  no  supplies, 
Opmion  fall,  and  beauty  dies. 

To  see  some  radiant  nymph  appear 
In  all  her  glittering  birth-day  gear. 
You  think  some  goddess  from  the  sky 
Descended,  ready  cut  and  dry : 
But,  ere  you  sell  yourself  to  laughter, 
Consider  well  what  may  oome  after  | 
For  fine  kleas  vanish  fiaist. 
While  all  the  gross  and  filthy  last 

O  Strephon,  ere  that  fetal  day^ 
When  Chloe  stole  your  heart  away 
Had  you  but  throagh  a  cranny  8py*d 
On  house  of  ease  your  future  bride, 
In  all  the  postures  of  her  face 
Which  nature  gires  in  such  a  caie ; 
DistortkMOS,  groanings,  strainings,  heavings ; 
*Twere  better  you  had  lick'd  her  leavings. 
Than  from  experience  find  too  late 
Your  goddess  grown  a  filthy  mate. 
Your  fancy  then  had  always  dwelt 
On  what  you  saw,  and  what  yon  smelt ;  * 
Would  still  the  same  ideas  give  ye^ 
As  when  yoo  spy'd  her  on  the  privy  ; 
And,  spite  of  Chloe^  charms  divine, 
Year  heart  had  been  as  whole  as  miiMb 

Authorities,  both  old  and  recent, 
'  Direct  tiiat  women  must  be  decent ; 
Ajid  from  the  spouse  each  blemish  hkle. 
More  than  from  all  the  world  beside. 

Unjustly  all  oar  nymphs  cnmplahi 
tlietr  empice  hokls  so  short  a  reign  ; 
Is  after  marriage  lost  so  ioon^. 
It  hardly  holds  the  booey-mooD ! 
For,  if  they  keep  not  what  they  canght. 
It  is  entirely  tbetr  own  feolt. 
They  take  possesskm  of  the  crown, 
Atid  then  throw  all  their  we^KNn  dovD : 
Though,  by  the  poUtician'a  soheme. 
Whoe'er  arrives  at  fomtr  supreme. 
Those  arts  fay  wfak^at  first  they  gam  H^ 
Tbq^  ttiU  Buiit  {nactiit  to  BMiateiB  Hr 


What  various  ways  our  femalei  falit 
To  pass  for  wits  beibroa  rake  1 
And  in  the  fmitless  search  porsoe 
All  other  methods  but  the  true ! 

Some  try  tp  learn  polite  bebavienr 
By  read'mg  hooka  against  their  Savioor  ; 
Some  call  it  wit^  to  reflect 
Oha  every  natural.defect; 
Some  show  thev  never  want  explaining. 
To  comprehend  a  donble-raeaning : 
Nt  sure  a  tell-tale  out  of  school 
is  m^ii  trits  the  greatest' fool ; 
\Vhose>i^Qk  imaginatkm  fills        ' 
Her  hearw^^nii  from  her  lips  dittib: 
You  *d  thihK^jie  ntter*d  from  behhid. 
Or  at  her  mou\  was  breaking  wind. 

Why  is  a  handwe  wife  ador'd 
By  every  coxcomb  b^  her  loid  ? 
From  yonder  poppet-ftM  ioqcure. 
Who  wisely  hides  his  woOKju^  whc  | 
Shows  Sheba*s  queen  compS^  diesl» 
And  Solomon  in  royal  vest : 
But  view  them  Ctter*d  on  the  Hoot^ 
Or  strung  on  pegs  behmd  the  door  ; 
Punch  is  exactly  of  a  piece 
With  Lorrain's  duke,  and  prinoe  of  Gmoa. 

A  prudent  builder  should  forecaat 
How  long  the  stuff  is  like  Co  last ; 
And  carefully  observe  the  ground^ 
To  buikl  on  some  foundation  soanL 
What  house,  when  its  materials  cmmbl^ 
Must  not  roevitably  tumble  ? 
What  edifk^  can  long  eodnre, 
HaUs'd  on  a  basis  nnaecare  ? 
Rash  mortals,  ere  3rou  take  a  wife. 
Contrive  3rour  pile  to  last  for  life : 
Since  beauty  scaroe  endures  a  day 
And  yooth  so  swiftly  gHdes  away ; 
Why  will  yoo  make  yourself  a  bubble; 
To  buikl  on  sand  with  hay  and  stabUe  ? 
On  sense  and  wit  your  passion  fband^ 
By  decency  cemented  round ; 
Let  prudence  with  good-nature  strife 
To  keep  esteem  and  love  alive. 
Then  come  old-asre  whene'er  it  will. 
Your  friendship  shall  continue  still : 
And  thus  a  mutual  gentle  fire 
Shall  never  but  with  life  expire. 


APOLLO; 
A  PROBLEM  SOLVEa 


1731. 


Apollo,  god  of  tight  and  wit, 
Coold  verse  inspire,  but  seldom  wrif^ 
Refin'd  aU  metali  with  Ut  looks. 
As  well  aschymistsby  thti^books: 
As  handsome  as  my  lady's  page  ; 
Sweet  five  and-twenty  was  his  age. 
His  wig  was  made  of  snmiy  rays. 
He  orown'd  his  yoothful  head  with  baysf 
Not  aU  the  oonrt  of  Heaven  could  dimp 
So  nice  and  to  complete  a  hean. 
No  betr  upon  his  first  appeaxmooa. 
With  twenty  thousand  poonds  a-yw  MMi 
Ifftr  drove,  before  he  tokl  his  land^ 
^  tot  •  ooMk  flloof  tbt  StiaaiJ 


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JUDAS.  ;  .  .  TO  MR  GAY. 

Tbe  ipokes,  ive  are  by  O^  toUU 
Were  silver,  and  the  axle  gdl4 : 
(I  own  twas  but  a  coach  and  fear, 
For  Japiter  allows  no  more ! ) 

Vet,  wfth  his  beairty,  wealth,  and  parts, 
Bnougfa  to  win  ten  tbotmnd  hwts^ 
No  migar  deity  above 
Was  so  unforionate  in  love. 

Three  weighty  ^uses  were  assigned. 
That  mof'd  the  nymphs  to  be  nnkind. 
Nine  Muses  always  waiting  round  hhD, 
Be  left  them  virgins  as  he  found  them. 
His  aui^ng  was  another  fault ; 
Pbr  he  codd  reach  to  Bin  alt: 
And,  by  the  sentiments  of  Pliny, 
Such  singers  are  like  Nicolini. 
At  last,  the  point  was  fully  clear'd  ; 
la  shorty  Apollo  had  no  beard. 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  DAMNED. 

1731. 

All  Iblki  who  pretend  to  religion  and  grtuce. 
Allow  there 's  a  Hell,  but  dispute  of  the  place : 
But,  if  Hell  may  by  logical  rules  be  defined 
The  place  oj  the  <MmnM— I  '11  tell  you  my  mind. 
Wbere-erer  the  damned  do  chiefly  abound. 
Most  certainly  there  is  Hill  to  be  found : 
Damned  poets,  damned  critics,  damn*d  blockheads, 

damn'd  knaves, 
DamnM  senators  bribM,  damnM  nrostJtute  slaves ; 
DamnM  lawyers  and  judges,  aamn*d   lords  and 

damned  vpiires  ; 
Dasnn'd  spies  and  if^fomurs,  damn*d  friends  and 

damn*d  liars  ; 
l^amnM  viUains,  corrupted  m  every  station,; 
Bataia'd  time-servinft  priests  all  over  the  nation  ; 
And  Ib*o  the  bargain  I  '11  readily  ^ve  yon 
Damn'd  \enorant  prelates  and  counsellors  privy. 
Then  let  qstio  longer  by  parsons  be  flamm'd, 
For  we  know  by  these  moribthe  place  of  the  damn'di 
And  lisLL  to  be  sure  is  at  Paris  or  Rome. 
How  happy  for  us  that  it  is  not  at  home  I 


50i 


So  could  we  see  a  set  of  new  Iscariotd 
Come  headlong  tumbling  from  their  mitred  cfaariols^ 
Each  modem  Judas  perish  tike  the  first; 
Drop  from  the  tree,  witti  all  his  bowels  borst ; 
Who  coold  forbear,  that  view'd  each  guil^  &oe. 
To  cry,  *'  Lo !  Judas  gone  to  his  own  place  i 
His  habitation  let  all  men  forsake. 
And  let  hia  bishopric  another  take  !** 


JUDAS.    1731. 


Bt  tiie  just  vengeance  of  incensed  skies. 
Poor  bi^iop  Judas  late  repenting  dies. 
The  Jews  eogag'd  him  with  a  paltry  bribe, 
Amounthig  harlly  to  a  crown  a  tribe ; 
Which  though  his  conscience  fbrc'd  hhn  to  restore 
(And*  panoDS  tell  us,  no  man  could  do  more)  ; 
Yet,  through  despair,  of  God  and  man  accun^ 
He  kMt  lut  bishopric,  and  hai^d  or  burst 
Tbose  former  ages  difler'd  much  from  this  j 
Jndas  betray'd  his  master  with  a  kiss : 
Bot  some  have  kiss'd  the  gospel  fifty  times, 
Wboae  pojory  's  the  least  of  all  their  crimes; 
Sooie  who  can  peijure  through  a  two-indi  boud. 
Yet  keep  their  bishoprics,  and  'scape  the  cord ; 
like  hemp,  which,  by  a  skilful  spinster  drawn 
T6  slender  thmds,  may  sometimes  pass  for  lawn* 

Ai  ancient  Jndaa  by  trsmigressiom  feii^ 
iiU  Ivnf  MMifT  «t  ha  mii  to  Uatti 


AN  EPISTLE  TO JiR.  GAT  K    1731. 

How  could  yon,  Gay,  disgrace  the  Muses'  train. 
To  serve  a  tasteless  court  twelve  years  in  vain  1 
Fain  would  I  think  ovur  female  friend  *  sincere. 
Till  Boh,  the  poet's  foe,  possess'd  her  ear* 
Did  female  virtue  e'er  so  high  ascend. 
To  lose  an  mch  of  favour  for  a  IHend  ? 

Say,  had  the  court  no  better  place  to  chuse 
For  thee,  than  make  a  dry-nurse  of  thy  Mose  ? 
How  cheaply  had  thy  liberty  teen  aold. 
To  squire  a  royal  girl  of  two  years  old ; 
In  leading-strings  her  infont  steps  to  gmde. 
Or  with  her  go-oart  amUe  side  by  side  \ 

But  princely  Douglas  and  his  glorious  dama 
Advanced  thy  fortune,  and  preserv'd  thy  fiune. 
Nor  Fill  your  nobler  gifts  be  misapply'd. 
When  o'er  your  patron's  treasure  you  pieaide : 
The  world  shouU  own,  hisxAiotce  was  wise  and  jusCj^ 
For  sons  of  Phasbos  never  break  thdr  trust 

Not  love  of  beauty  less  the  heart  inflames 
Of  guardian  ennuchs  to  the  sultan's  dames : 
Their  passions  ndt  more  impotent  and  cold. 
Than  those  of  poets  to  the  lust  of  gold. 
With  Paean's  purest  fire  bis  fhvourites  glow. 
The  dregs  will  serve  to  ripen  ore  below ; 
His  meanest  work :  for,  had  he  thought  it  fit 
That  wealth  should  be  the  appennage  of  wit, 
The  god  of  light  could  ne'er  have  been  so  bUni 
To  deal  it  to  the  worst  of  homan-khid. 

But  let  me  now,  for  1  can  do  it  well. 
Your  conduct  in  this  new  employ  foretell. 

And  firsts  to  make  my  observation  rig^ 
I  pUce  a  statesman  full  before  my  ngfat, 
A  bkMted  minister  in  all  his  geer, 
With  shameless  visage  and  perfidious  leer ; 
Two  rows  of  teeth  arm  each  devouring  jaw. 
And  ostrich-like  his  all-digesting  maw.  . 
My  fhncy  drags  this  monster  to  my  vieir. 
To  show  the  world  his  chief  reverse  in  yoiy 
Of  loud  unmeaning  sounds  a  rap^  flood 
Rolls  from  his  mouth  in  plenteous  streams  of  mud; 
With  these  the  court  and  senate-house  he  plies. 
Made  up  of  noise,  and  hnpudence,  and  lies. 

Now  let  me  diow  how  Bob  and  you  agrees 
You  serve  a  potent  prince,  as  well  as  he. 
The  ducal  o(»fors,  trusted  to  your  charge. 
Your  honest  care  may  fill,  perhaps  enlarges 
His  vassals  ^asy,  and  the  owner  blest. 
They  pay  a  trifle,  and  ei^  the  rest 

1  The  dean  having  been  told  by  an  hitimaielHend^ 
that  the  duke  of  Queensbury  had  employed  Mr* 
Gay  to  inspect  the  accounts  and  management  of  hit 
graioe's  receivers  and  stewards  (whkh  however . 
proved  to  be  a  mistake),  wrote  this  epbtle  to  hH 
ficiend. 

<ThtooinftHio£8QfiiflL   X 


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506 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Not  80  a  nation's  revenues  are  paid  : 
The  seiTant*t  feults  are  on  the  muter  laid. 
The  people  with  a  sigh  their  taxes  bring ; 
And,  cursing  Bob,  forget  to  bles^  the  king. 

Next  hearken,  Gay,  to  ir  hat  thy  charge  requires^ 
With  servants,  tenants,  and  the  ueighbounng  s^wes. 
Let  all  domestics  fpel  your  gentle  sway ; 
Kor  bribe,  insult,  nor  flatter,  nor  betray. 
Let  due  reward  to  merit  be  allow*d  $ 
Nor  with  your  kindred  half  Uie  palace  crowd; 
Kot  think  yourself  secure  in  doing  wrong 
By  telling  noses  voith  a  party  strong. 

Be  rich ;  but  of  your  wraith  make  no  parade ; 
At  least,  b^ore  your  master's  debts  are  paid  : 
Vor  in  a  palace,  built  unth  charge  immense, 
Preiume  to  treat  him  at  his  vu;n  expense. 
Each  former  in  the  neighboorhood  can  count 
To  what  your  lawful  perquisites  amount. 
The  tenants  poor,  the  hardness  of  the  times. 
Are  ill  excuses  for  a  servants  crimes. 
With  interest,  and  a.  premium  paid  beside, 
The  master's  pressing  wants  must  be  supply  *d ; 
With  hasty  zeal  behold  the  steward  come 
By  his  own  credit  to  advance  the  sum ; 
Who  while  th*  unrighteous  mammon  is  his  friend. 
Nay  well  conclude  his  power  will  never  end. 
A  fiuthiul  treasurer !  what  could  he  do  more  ? 
He  lends  my  lard  what  was  my  lord^s  b^ore. 

The  law  so  strictly  guards  the  monarch's  health 
That  no  physician  dares  prescribe  by  stealth : 
The  council  sit;  approve  the  doctor's  skill ; 
And  give  advice,  before  he  gives  the  pill. 
But  the  state  empiric  acts  a  safer  part ; 
Andy  while  he  poisons,  vins  the  royal  heart. 

But  bow  can  I  describe  the  ravenous  breed  t 
Then  let  me  now  by  negatives  proceed. 

Suppose  your  lord  a  trusty  servant  send 
On  weighty  business  to  some  neighbouring  friend  : 
Presume  not,  Gay,  unless  you  serve  a  drone. 
To  countermand  his  orders  by  your  own. 

Should  some  imperious  neighbour  sink  the  boats. 
And  drain  thefsh-ponds,  while  your  master  dotes  ^ 
Shall  he  upon  the  ducal  rights  intrench. 
Because  he  bribed  you  with  a  brace  of  tench  } 

Nor  from  your  lord  his  bad  condition  bide. 
To  feed  his  luxury,  or  sooth  his  pride  i 
Kor  at  an  under-rate  hit  timber  sell. 
And  with  an  oath  assure  him,  all  is  well; 
Or  sxeear  it  rotten^  and  toith  kumble  airt 
Bequest  it  qfhim  to  complete  your  stairs  : 
Nor,  when  a  mortgage  lies  on  half  his  lands, 
Onne  wi^  a  purse  of  guineas  in  your  hands. 

Have  Peter  Waters  always  in  your  mind : 
That  rogue,  of  genuine  ministerial  kind. 
Can  half  the  peerage  by  bis  arts  bewitch. 
Starve  twenty  lords  to  make  one  scottndrd  rich  ; 
And,  when  he  gravely  has  undone  a  soon, 
Ig  humbly  pray'd  to  ruin  twenty  more. 

A  dextrous  steward,  when  his  tricks  are  hvmd, 
Hush-money  sends  to  all  the  neighbonn  round  $ 
His  master,  unsuspicious  of  his  pranks, 
Pays  all  the  cost,  and  gives  the  villain  thanks. 
And  should  a  fricoid  attempt  to  set  hhn  rights 
Hit  lordship  should  impute  it  all  to  spite  ; 
Woidd  love  his  fovourite  better  than  before^ 
And  trust  his  honesty  just  so  much  more. 
Thus  fiunilies,  like  lealms,  with  equal  hte, 
^re  lunk  by  premier  ministers  qf  states 

Some,  when  an  heir  succeeds,  go  boldly  «a^ 
And,  Mibey  nWd4ji0/4ukir,  Mb^  jp» 


A  knave,  who  deep  embroild  his  lord*i  ai&Sr^ 

Will  soon  grow  necessary  to  his  heirs. 

His  policjc,  consists  in  setting  traps. 

In  fiiiding  ways  and  means  and  stopping  gape  | 

He  knows  a  thousand  tricks  whenever  he  please^ 

Though  not  to  cure,  yet  palliate  each  disease. 

In  either  case,  an  equal  chance  is  ron ; 

For,  keep  or  turn  him  out,  my  lord's  undone. 

Yon  want  a  hand  to  clear  a  filthy  smk ; 

No  cleanly  workman  can  endure  the  stiidE. 

A  strong  dilemma  in  a  desperate  case  ! 

To  act  with  in£uny,  or  quit  the  place. 

A  bungler  thus,  who  scarce  the  nail  can  bit. 
With  driving  wrong  will  make  the  pennel  split : 
Nor  dares  an  abler  workman  undertake 
To  drive  a  second,  lest  the  whole  should  break. 

In  every  court  the  parallel  will  hold  ; 
And  kings,  like  private  folks,  are  bought  and  told. 
The  ruling  rogue,  who  dreads  to  be  casbier'd. 
Contrives,  as  be  is  hated,  to  befeai^d ; 
Confounds  accounts,  perpletes  all  affairs; 
For  vengeance  more  embrmls,  than  skiU  repairer 
So  robbers  (and  their  ends  are  just  the  same)» 
To  'scape  inquiries,  leave  the  house  injlhme» 

I  knew  a  brazen  minister  of  state. 
Who  bore  for  twice  ten  years  the  public  hate. 
In  every  mouth  the  question  most  in  vogue 
Was,  fVhen  will  Utey  tutn  out  this  odious  rogue  f 
A  juncture  happened  in  his  highest  pride : 
While  he  went  robbing  on,  old  master  dy'd. 
We  tbouglit  there  now  remain*d  no  room  to  doubt^ 
His  tcork  is  done,  the  minister  must  out . 
The  court  invited  more  than  one  or  two  ; 
Will  you,  sir  Spencer  ?  or,  will  you,  or  you  f 
But  not  a  soul  his  office  durst  accept  -,      ' 
The  subtle  knave  had  all  the  plunder  swept : 
And  such  was  then  the  temper  of  the  timesy 
He  ow'd  his  preservation  to  his  crimes. 
The  candidates  observ'd  his  dirty  paws. 
Nor  found  it  difficult  to  guess  the  cause :         fliim. 
But  when  they  smelt  such  foul  corruptioTis  rouKl 
Away  they  fled,  and  lefi  him  as  they  foir.id  him. 

Thus,  when  a  greedy  sloven  once  has  tbrowQ 
His  snot  into  the  me»s,  *tis  all  his  own. 


ON  THE  IRISH  BISHOPS  K 

IT31. 

Olo  Latimer  preaching  did  fiurly  deacribe 
A  bishop,  who  rul'd  all  the  rest  <^  bis  tribe  : 
And  who  it  this  bishop  ?  and  where  does  he  dwdl  ^ 
Why  truly  tis  Satan,  arch-bitbop  of  Hell, 
And  BB  was  a  primate,  and  rb  wore  a  mitre 
Surrounded  with  jewels  of  sulphur  and  nitre. 
Htfw  nearly  this  bishop  our  bishops  resembles ! 
But  he  has  the  odds,  who  believes  and  who  iremUet, 
Gould  jou  tee  his  grim  grace,  for  a  pound  to  a  pemiy* 
You  *d  swear  it  must  be  the  baboon  of  Kilkenny : 
Poor  Satan  will  think  the  comparison  odious  ; 
I  with  I  could  find  him  out  one  more  commodioaik 
But  thit  I  am  ture,  the  most  reverend  old  dragom 
Hat  got  on  the  bench  many  bishops  snfiragui ; 
And  all  men  believe  he  resides  there  lacog. 
To  give  them  by  taint  an  invisible  jog. 

1  Oocanooed  by  thdr  endeavooring  t6  get  an  ad 
to  divide  the  chnsch-livingt  $  whiob  Ull  was  rgecftii 
Jyy  the  Iiiib  boiue  ot  oominoni. 


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ON  THE  DEATH  OF  SWIFT. 


ior 


Our  bishops,  pifCTd  up  with  wealth  and  with  pride, 
To  Hell  00  the  backs  of  the  clergy  would  ride. 
TItey  rnounttxl  and  laboured  with  whip  and  with  spur, 
In  Tain— for  the  devil  a  parson  would  stir,  [doom. 
So  the  comuioDS  unhorsed  them ;  aud  this  was  their 
On  their  crosiers  to  ride,  like  a  witch  on  a  broom. 
Though  they  gaUop*d  so  fast,  on  the  road  you  may 

find'fm, 
And  have  left  us  but  three  out  of  twenty  behind  *em> 
Lord   Bolton's  good  grace,   lord  Car,    and    lord 

Howard, 
In  ^ite  of  the  devil,  would  still  be  untoward  : 
They  came  of  good  kindred,  and  coukJ  not  endnre 
Their  former  companions  should  beg  at  their  door. 

When  Christ  wax  betray  *d  to  Pilate  tlie  prastor. 
Of  a  dozen  apostles  but  one  proved  a  traitor : 
One  traitor  alone,  and  faithfhl  eleven ; 
But  we  can  afibrd  you  six  traitors  in  seven. 
What    a  clutter  with    clippings,    dividingt,  and 
cleavings !  [leavings. 

And  the  clergy  fbisooth  must  take  up  with  their 
If  nuking  divisions  was  all  their  intent,      [meant ; 
They  've  done  it,  we  thank  them,  bit  not  at  they 
And  so  may  such  bishops  for  ever  divide^ 
That  no  hoinest  heathen  would  be  on  their  side. 
How  should  ^^e  rtjoice,  if,  like  Judas  the  first. 
Those  splitters  of  parsons  in  sunder  should  burst  t 

Now  hear  an  allusion : — A  mitre,  you  know. 
Is  divided  above,  but  united  below. 
If  this  you  consider  our  emblem  is  right ; 
The  bishops  divide^  but  the  clergy  untie. 
Should  the  bottom  be  split,  our  bishops  would  dread 
Thai  the  mitre  would  never  stick  fast  on  tlieir  head*; 
And  yet  they  have  learnt  the  chief  art  of  a  sove- 
reign. 
As  Machiavel  taught  them ;  divide^  and  ye  govern. 
But  courage,  my  lords ;  though  it  cannot  be  said 
That  one  cl4n}en  tongue  ever  sat  on  your  head ; 
I  '11  bold  you  a  groat  (and  I  wish  I  could  see  H), 
If  yoar  itockings  Were  off,  you  could  show  clovenfeet. 

"  But  bold,''  cry  the  bishops ;  "  and  give  us  fair 
Before  you  oondemn  us,  hear  what  we  can  say.  [play ; 
What  truer  affections  could  ever  be  shown. 
Than  saving  your  souls  by  damnmg  our  own  ? 
And  hare  we  not  practised  all  methods  to  gain  you ; 
With  the  tithe  of  the  tithe  of  the  tithe  to  maintain 
Provided  a  ftuid  for  building  you  spittals  ?  [you ; 
You  are  only  to  live  four  years  without  victuals." 

Content,  my  good  lords ;  but  let  us  cliange  hands; 
Fhst  take  you  our  tithes,  and  give  us  your  lands. 
So  God  Mess  the  church  and  three  of  our  mitres ; 
And  God  bleis  the  conunons,  fDr  biting  the  bittn. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  DR.  SfKIFTK 

OoCBsioned  by  reading  the  following  maxim  in 
RocbefoucauU,  Dans  1 'adversity  de  nos  meil- 
•ieurs  amis,  nous  trouvons  toujours  quelque 
chose  qui  ne  nous  d^latt  pas. 

In  the  adversity  of  oor  best  friends,  we  always 
find  something  that  doth  not  displease  us. 

As  Rochefoucanlt  hit  maxims  drew 
From  nature,  I  believe  them  true : 

>  Written  in  November,  1731.— There  are  two 
distnict  poems  on  this  subject,  one  of  them  contain- 
ing  many  ipurious  Uses.  In  what  is  here  printed^ 
tfapjenuiiie  parti  gf  both  are  fresenredf    A*. 


They  argue  no  corrupted  mind 
In  him  ;  the  fault  is  in  mankind 

lliis  maxim  more  than  all  the  rest 
Is  thought  too  base  for  hiunan  breast : 
"  In  all  distresses  of  our  friends. 
We  first  consult  our  private  ends; 
While  nature,  kindly  bent  to  ease  us, 
Points  out  some  circumstance  to  please  us.* 

if  this  perhaps  your  patience  move^ 
Let  reason  and  experience  prove. 

We  all  behold  with  envious  eyes 
Our  equals  rais'd  above  our  size. 
Who  would  not  at  a  crowd.ed  show 
Stand  high  himself,  keep  others  low  ? 
1  love  my  friend  as  well  as  yon : 
But  why  should  he  obstnict  my  view  ? 
Then  let  m^  have  the  higher  post; 
Suppose  it  but  an  inch  at  most. 
If  in  a  battle  you  should  find 
One,  whom  you  love  of  all  mankind^ 
Had  some  heroic  action  done, 
A  champion  kilPd,  or  trophy  won ; 
Rather  than  thus  be  over-topt. 
Would  you  not  wish  his  laurels  cropt? 
Dear  honest  Ned  is  in  the  gout, 
lies  rack'd  with  pain,  and  you  without  9 
How  patiently  you  hear  him  groan  ! 
How  glad  the  case  is  not  your  own  I 

What  poet  would  not  grieve  to  see 
His  brother  write  as  well  as  he  ? 
But,  rather  than  they  should  excels 
Would  wish  his  rivals  all  in  Hell  ? 

Her  end  when  emulation  misses. 
She  turns  to  envy,  stings,  and  hisses: 
The  strongest  friendship  yields  to  pride^ 
Unless  the  odds  be  on  our  side. 
Vain  human-kind  I  iiinta<^ic  race ! 
Thy  various  follies  who  can  trace  } 
SelMove,  ambition,  envy,  pride. 
Their  empire  in  our  heart  divide. 
Give  others  riches,  power,  aud  station^ 
Tis  all  to  me  an  usurpation. 
I  have  no  title  to  aspire; 
Yet,  when  you  sink,  I  seem  the  highefi 
In  Pope  I  cannot  rc^id  a  line. 
But  with  a  sigh  I  wish  it  mine: 
When  he  can  in  one  couplet  fix 
More  sense  than  I  can  do  in  six  ; 
It  gives  me  such  a  jealous  fit, 
I  cry,  "  Pox  take  him  and  his  wit  [^ 
I  grieve  to  be  outdone  by  Gay 
In  my  own  humorous  biting  way. 
Arburthnot  is  no  more  my  friend. 
Who  dares  to  irony  pretend. 
Which  I  was  bom  to  introduce, 
Refin'd  at  first,  and  show'd  its  use. 
St.  John,  as  well  as  Pulteney,  knows 
That  I  had  some  repute  for  prose  ; 
And,  till  they  drove  me  out  of  date. 
Could  maul  a  minister  of  state. 
If  they  have  mortified  my  pride. 
And  made  me  throw  my  pen  aside : 
If  with  such  talents  Heaven  hath  bleat'd  'att^ 
Have  I  not  reason  to  detest  'em  ? 

To  all  my  foes,  dear  Fortune,  send 
Thy  gifts;  but  never  to  my  friend : 
I  tamely  can  endure  the  first ; 
But  this  with  envy  makes  me  burst 

Thus  much  may  serve  by  way  of  pcoeB|j 
Proceed  we  therefore  to  our  pooow 


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ws 


SWUTS  POEMS. 


The  time  18  not  remote  when  1 

Must  by  the  course  of  nature  die ; 

When,  I  foresee,  my  special  ft'iendsi 

Will  try  to  find  their  private  ends : 

Andy  though  'tis  haidly  understood 

Which  way  my  death  can  do  them  fbod^ 

Yet  thus,  methinks,  I  hear  them  speak  t 

**  See  how  the  dean  hegins  to  break ! 

Poor  gentleman,  he  droops  apace  1 

You  plamly  find  it  ha  his  fi&ce. 

That  old  vertigo  in  his  head 

Will  never  leave  him,  till  he  's  dcad^ 

Besides,  his  memory  decays  s 

He  recollects  not  what  he  says ; 

He  cannot  call  his  friends  to  mind ; 

Forgets  the  place  where  last  he  din^d ; 

Plies  you  with  stories  o'er  and  o'er ; 

He  told  them  fifty  times  before. 

How  dues  he  fancy  we  can  sit 

To  hear  his  out-of-fashion  wit  ? 

But  he  takes  op  with  yotmger  folks, 

Who  for  his  wine  will  bear  his  jokes. 

Faith !  he  must  make  his  ftories  shorter, 

Or  change  his  comrades  once  a  quarter  ; 

In  half  the  time  he  talks  them  round. 

There  must  anotlier  set  be  found. 
**  For  poetry,  he  's  past  his  prime : 

He  takes  an  bour  to  find  a  rhyme ; 

His  fire  is  out,  his  wit  decayed. 

His  fancy  sunk,  his  Muse  a  jade. 

1  'd  have  him  throw  away  his  pen ; 

But  there  's  no  talking  to  some  men  !»• 
And  then  their  tenderness  appears 

By  adding  largely  to  my  years: 

•*  He 's  older  than  he  would  be  reckon'd. 

And  well  remembers  Charles  the  Second. 

He  hardly  drinks  a  pint  of  wine ; 

And  that,  I  doubt,  is  no  good  sign. 

His  stomach  too  begins  to  fail : 

Last  year  we  thought  him  strong  and  hale ; 

But  now  he  's  quite  another  thing : 

I  wish  he  may  hold  out  till  spring ! " 

They  hug  themselves  and  reason  thus : 

"  It  is  not  yet  so  bad  with  us  !" 
In  such  a  case,  they  talk  in  tropes, 

And  by  their  fears  express  their  hopes. 

Some  great  misfortune  to  portend, 

No  enemy  can  match  a  friend. 

With  all  the  kindness  they  profiesft, 

The  merit  of  a  lucky  guess 

(When  daily  how-d*ye's  come  of  course. 

And  servanU  answer,  '*  Worse  and  worse !") 

Would  please  them  better,  than  to  tell, 

That,  *'  God  be  prais'd,  the  dean  is  welL'* 

Irhen  be  who  prophesy'd  the  best. 

Approver  his  forenght  to  the  rest : 

'*  You  know  I  always  fear'd  the  worat^ 

And  often  told  you  so  at  first'* 

He'd  rather  choose  that  I  shonid  ^e;. 

Than  his  predictions  prove  a  lie. 

Not  one  foretells  I  shall  recover  ; 

But,  all  agree  to  give  me  over. 

Yet  should  some  neighbour  feel  a  paia 
Just  in  the  parts  where  I  complain ; 
How  many  a  message  would  he  send ! 
What  hearty  prayers  that  I  should  nendf 
Inquire  what  regunen  I  ke{M; 
What  gave  ttie  ease,  and  how  I  slept? 
And  mora  lament  when  I  was  dead, 
iSiaft  all  tbB  flMlifinraBd  ngr  bdb 


My  good  oom|Mmibns,  never  fear^ 
For,  though  yon  may  mistake  a  year. 
Though  your  prognostics  mn  too  fost. 
They  must  be  veriiy'd  at  last. 

Behokl  the  fiital  day  arrive  ! 
"  How  is  the  dean  ?"— "  He  's  just  afivc" 
Now  the  departmg  prayer  is  read  ; 
He  hardly  breatbea— The  dean  is  dead* 

Before  tke  passing-bell  b^:un. 
The  news  throogh  half  the  town  is  run. 
"  Oh  !  may  we  all  for  death  prepare  > 
What  has  be  left?  and  who  'shis  hdr  ?•* 
"  I  know  no  more  than  what  the  news  »; 
Tis  all  beqoeath'd  to  public  uses." 
"Topublieuses!  there 's  a  whim ! 
What  had  the  public  dono  for  him  ? 
Mere  envy,  avarice,  and  pride : 
He  gave  it  all^bot  first  he  dy'd. 
And  had  the  dean,  in  all  the  nation. 
No  worthy  friend,  no  poor  relation  } 
So  ready  to  do  strangers  good, 
Forgetting  his  own  flesh  and  bfood  !* 

I*k>w  Qrub-^street  wits  are  all  employ'^; 
With  elegies  the  town  is  cloy'd : 
Some  paragraph  in  every  paper. 
To  ewse  the  dean,  or  bleu  the  Drapier. 

The  doctors,  tender  of  their  fam^ 
Wisely  on  me  lay  all  the  blame. 
'*  We  must  confess,  his  case  was  nice; 
But  he  would  never  take  advice. 
Had  he  been  rul'd,  fbr  aagfat  appears. 
He  might  have  livVl  these  twenty  years  : 
For,  when  we  open'd  him,  we  found 
That  all  his  vital  parts  were  sound." 

From  Dublin  soon  to  London  spread, 
Tis  told  at  conit,  "  The  dean  is  dead.** 
And  lady  SnlR>lk  >,  in  the  spleen. 
Runs  laugfhmg  up  to  tell  the  queen. 
The  queen,  so  grack>os,  mtl|]>  and  good. 
Cries,  **  Is  he  gone  !  *tis  time  heshoukl. 
He  's  dead,  yon  say ;  then  let  him  rot 
I  'm  glad  the  medal*  ^  were  forgot 
I  promis'd  him,  I  own ;  but  when  ? 
I  only  was  the  prinoess  then : 
But  now  as  consort  of  the  king. 
You  know,  'tis  quite  another  thing.** 

Now  Chartres,  at  sir  Robert's  levee. 
Tells  with  a  sneer  the  tidhigs  heavy: 
•'  Why,  if  he  dy*d  without  his  shoes,'* 
Cries  Bob,  **  I  »m  sorry  for  the  news : 
Oh,  were  the  wretch  but  living  still. 
And  in  his  place  my  good  fhend  WUI ! 
Or  had  a  mitre  on  his  head. 
Provided  Bolingforoke  were  dead  f " 

Now  Cnril  his  shop  from  rubbish  drains  : 
Three  genuine  tomes  of  Swift's  remains ! 
And  then,  to  make  them  pass  the  glibber, 
Revis'd  by  Tibbalds,  Moore,  and  Gbber. 
He  '11  treat  me  as  he  does  my  bettors, 
Publish  my  will,  my  life,  my  letters; 
Revive  the  libels  bom  to  die : 
Which  Pone  must  bear  as  well  as  I. 

Here  sLilv  the  scene  to  represent, 
Hofw  thote  I  love  my  death  Immentk 


«M^  award,  at  onetiflMafhfMrtl^irHlittii 
d«Mi.    N. 

'  Which  the  dean  in  vain  expected,  fai  reCum  f<#* 
asttaUp^WthahadtenttDtlieprfiicail.    fL 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  SWIFT. 


fOft 


^oor  Pope  irin  griere  a  monkh,  and  Gaj 
A  week,  and  AiH^thnot^a  day. 

St  John  Uinaelf  will  scarce  forbear 
To  bite  his  pen,  and  drop  a  tear. 
The  rest  will  gire  a  shrug,  and  ay, 
*•  I  *m  sorry— >but  we  all  must  die  !" 

Indifiiereace,  dad  in  wisdom's  guiM^ 
All  foftitude  of  mind  supplies : 
For  how  can  stony  bowels  melt 
In  those  who  nei^er  pity  felt ! 
When  we  are  IsishM,  they  kiss  the  rodt 
Besigning  to  the  will  of  God. 

The  fools,  my  juniore  by  a  y^ac. 
Are  tortur'd  with  suspense  and  fear  | 
Who  wisely  thought  my  age  a  screen. 
When  death  approached,  to  stand  between : 
The  screen  reraov*d,  tlieir  he^xts  are  trembling  } 
They  mourn  for  me  without  dissembling. 

My  female  friends,  whose  tender  bearta 
Have  better  leam'd  to  act  their  parts^ 
Receive  the  news  in  doleful  dumps  : 
*'  The  dean  is  dead :  (Pray  what  is  trumps  ?) 
Then,  Lord  have  mercy  oa  his  soul ! 
(Udies  I  *U  venture  for  the  vole.) 
Six  deans,  they  say,  must  bear  thQ.paII  t 
(I  wish  I  knew  what  kmg  to  caJl.) 
Madam  your  busbai}d  i^  attend 
The  fimera!  of  so  good  a  frieuL 
Ko,  madam,  'tis  a  shocking  sight ; 
And  he  's  engaged  tomocrow  night  t 
My  lady  dnb  wHl  take  it  UL 
If  he  should  fail  her  at  quadrille. 
He  lov'd  the  dean^I  lead  a  heart) 
But  dearest  friends,  they  say,  must  part. 
His  time  was  come ;  1^  ran  his  race; 
W«  hope  he  »s  in  a  better  pl^." 
r  Why  do  we  grieve  that  frieiidfl  «b<wld  die? 
No  loss  more  easy  to  svqpply. 
One  year  ia  past ;  a  different  sceqe  1 
Ko  ^rther  mention  of  the  dean. 
Who  now,  alas !  no  more  is  miss'd. 
Than  if  he  never  did  exist. 
Where's  now  the  favourite  of  Apollo  t 
Departed : — and.  ku  worhs  nxut  follow  ,• 
Must  undergo  tl^e  common  £ate  ; 
Hit  kind  of  wit  is  out  of  date. 

Some  country  squire  tolintot  goes^ 
Inquires  for  Swiftin  verse  and  prose. 
^ys  lintot,  *'  I  haye  bear^  the  name  ; 
He  dy'd  a  year  ago." — "  The  same," 
He  searches  all  the  shop  in  vaint 
*'  Sir,  you  may  fifid  them  in  Duckrlane: 
f  sent  them,  with  a  load  of  books. 
Last  Monday  to  the  pastry-cook*s. 
To  fhncy  they  could  lire  a  year  ^  . 
I  find  yon  >re  but  a  stranger  here. 
The  dean  was  fisni^^s  in  lus  timf» 
And  had  a  kind  o^  knack  at  rhyme» 
His  way  of  writing  now  is  pas^,: 
The  town  has  got  a  better  tastM 
I  keep  no  antiq^a^cl  stuffy  . 
But  spick  and  span  I  hi^ve  enDogfa., 
Prmy,  do  but  give  me  leaye  to  shpw 'em^    ^ 
Here  's  Colley  Gibber's  birth«day  poep. , 
This  ode  you  never  yet,  have  sma, 
,By  Stephen  Duck,  i^xm  tbs  qu^«q. 
Then  here 's  a  letter,  fi^^y  pe^'d. 


It  clearly  shows  that  all  idlectioft 
On  ministers  is  disaffection. 
'Next,  here  's  sir  Robert's  vindication. 
And  Mr.  Henley*s  last  oration. 
The  hawkers  have  not  got  them  yet : 
Your  honour  pleas^  to  buy  a  set  ^ 

'*  Here  's  Wolston's  tracts,  the  t»ilfth  ^dition^ 
Tis  read  by  every  politician: 
The  country-members,  when  in  town. 
To  all  their  boroughs  send  them  down| 
You  never  met  a  thing  so  smart ; 
The  courtiers  have  them  all  by  heart : 
Those  maids  of  honour  who  can  read. 
Are  taught  to  use  than  for  their  creed* 
The  reverend  author's  good  intention 
Hath  been  rewarded  with  a  pensicm  * : 
He  doth  an  honour  to  his  gown, 
By  bravely  running  priest'Crqft  down : 
He  shows,  as  sure  as  Qod  's  in  Gloooeftet)^ 
That  Moses  was  a  grand  impostor  ; 
That  all  his  miracles  were  cheats, 
Perfbrm'd  as  jugglers  do  their  feats : 
The  church  had  never  such  a  writer  ; 
A  shame  he  hath  not  got  a  mitce ! " 

Suppose  me  dead ;  and  then  suppose 
A  club  assembled  at  the  Rose ; 
Where,  from  discourse  of  this  and  thaW 
I  grow  the  subject  of  their  chat. 
And  while  they  toss  my  name  about. 
With  &vour  some,  and  some  withoofe  | 
One,  quite  mdifferant  in  the  catlM* 
My  character  impartial  dmw«. 
'*  The  dean,  if  we  beKeve  repostt 
Was  never  ill  recciv'd  at  oouiti^ 
Although,  ironically  grave. 
He  sham'd  the  fool,  and  lash'd  tiM-luiMW^ 
To  steal  a  hint  was  nevi^  known. 
But  what  he  writ  was  all  his  oiwa.'' 

*<  Sir,  I  have  haard  another  story  r 
He  was  a  most  coitfounitd  Torp, 
And  grew,  or  he  is  much  bdy'd. 
Extremely  duU^  befbve  he  dyU" 

*'  Can  we  the  Drapier  thai  forget ; 
Is  not  our  nation  in  his  debt  ? 
Twas  he  that  writ  the  Drapiees  letters  !^^ 

•*  He  should  have  lA  tbiBo^  for  his  h$tUrsi, 
We  had  a  hundred  obUr  nmii,. 
Nor  need  depend  upon  his  ^sa*-^ 
Say  what  you  will  about  his  reading 
Yon  never  can  d^tnd  his  brndAmgi 
Who,  in  his  rolinsr  raaaiog  riol, 
Could  never  leave  the  world  in  q}ti$t^ 
Attacking,  when  he  toak  the  o^un. 
Court,  cityt  camp-^^\  one  tp  him.— » 
But  why  would  hf  ,  eaeepi  h«  tkbhn%. 
Offend  our  polrtol,  greal  sir  R^bfvt. 
Whose  coufuelt  aid  the  sompeign  pfxpay^ 
To  save  the  nation  every  hour  I 
.What  tcene^  of  evil  he  unraiwlt 
In  tatirti,  libels  ^pnf  ir^i^  i 
Not  sparing  Ymfmvkde^m  tUti^ 
But  f  oa  into  it,  liMi  a  «0lA /» 

'<  Perhaps  I  may  aUow  tha^BUh 
Had  too  much  satire  vpk^  ^Wl,. 
And  seem'd  de^imip'd  aQtta  t^m^ 
because  no  age  cQuld  jnocedfiewiiilU  . 
Yet  malice  never  was  bisaiii^^ 
ile  lash'd  tiie  Tiop^^biU  IIIM'4  tbiJMMNk. 

[   ^Wolstonlibcr^eonfoaiidedvithWoolasloi^i^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


JIO 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Ko  individaal  couM  resent. 
Where  tbousands  equally  were  meant : 
His  satire  points  at  no  defect, 
But  what  all  mortals  may  correct  i 
Por  he  abhor'd  the  senseless  tribe 
Who  call  it  humour  when  they  gibe : 
Ife  spared  a  hnmp,  or  crooked  nose, 
Whose  owners  set  not  up  for  beaux. 
True  genuine  dullness  mov*d  his  pify^ 
Unless  it  oflfer'd  to  be  witty. 
Those  who  their  ignorance  confSest, 
He  ne'er  offended  with  a  jest; 
But  laugh'd  to  hear  an  ideot  quote 
A  verse  from  Horace  leam*d  by  rote. 
Vice,  if  it  e*er  cdn  be  abash'd. 
Must  be  or  ridictiPd  or  2a$h^d. 
If  yoM  resent  it,  who  's  to  blame  ? 
He  neither  knows  you,  nor  your  name. 
Should  vice  expect  to  'scape  rebuke, 
Because  its  vwner  is  a  duke  f 
His  friendships,  still  to  few  confin'd, 
Were  always  of  the  middling  kind ; 
Ko  fools  of  rank,  or  mongrel  breed. 
Who  fain  would  pass  for  lords  hideed  : 
Where  titles  give  no  rfght  or  power. 
And  peerage  is  a  withered  flower  ; 
He  would  have  dcem'd  it  a  disgrace. 
If  such  a  wretch  had  known  his  face. 
On  rural  squires,  that  kingdom's  bane. 
He  vented  oft  his  wrath  in  vain :       j 
#««««♦«  squires  to  market  brought. 
Who  bell  their  souls  and  »»»*  for  nought : 
The  **♦*  *♦♦»  go  joyful  back, 
To  rob  the  church,  their  tenants  rack ; 
Go  snacks  with  ♦♦♦♦♦  justices. 
And  keep  the  peace  to  pi^^ip  fbes  ; 
In  every  jobb  to  have  a  sluure, 
A  jail  or  turnpike  to  repliir ; 
And  turn  f^*****  to  public  roadi 
Commodious  to  their  own  abodes.    ' 

"  He  never  thought  atthonoiir  doAe  hini. 
Because  a  peer  was  proud  to  own  him ; 
Would  rather  slip  aside,  and  choose 
To  talk  with  wits  in  dirty  shoes; 
And  «com  the  tools  with  stars  and  girten, 
So  often  seen  caressiiigChartres. 
He  never  courtM  men  in  station. 
Nor  persons  held  in  admiralion  ; 
Of  DO  man's  greatness  was  afraid, 
Because  he  sought  for  no  roan's  aid. 
Though  trusted  long  hi  great  affiiin. 
He  gave  himself  no  haughty  airs : 
Without  regarding  private  ends. 
Spent  all  his  credit  for  his  fHends; 
AsA  only  chose  the  wise  and  goud^ 
No  flatterers ;  no  allS^  in  blood : 
But  succoured  virtue  ill  distress. 
And  seldom  fail'dof  good  success ;     ' 
As  numbers  in  their  hearts  must  own. 
Who,  but  for  him,  had  been  unknowiu 

'<  He  kept  with  princes  due  decomm; 
Yet  never  stood  in  awe  befbre  'em. 
He  followed  David's  lesson  just ; 
In  princes  never  put  his  trust : 
And,  wo^  y«iu  make  him  truly  tourf 
Provoke  him  with  a  slave  in  power. 
The  Irish  senate  if  you  nim'd, 
WiOk  what  iaipatience  be  dedaiiA'd  t 


Fair  ubkktv  was  all  his  cry ; 
For  her  he  stood  prepared  to  die  ^ 
For  her  he  boldly  stood  alone; 
For  her  he  oft  cixpos^d  his  own. 
Two  kingdooDS,  just  as  fiaiction  led. 
Had  set  a  price  upon  his  head^  - 
But  not  a  traitor  could  be  found,: 
To  sell  him  for  tix  hundred  pound. 

'<  Had  he  but  spar'd  his  tongue  and  peii» 
He  might  have  rose  like  other  men : 
But  power  was  never  in  his  thought. 
And  wealth  he  valued  not  a  groat : 
Ingratitude  he  often  found, 
And  pity'd  those  who  meant  the  wotmd  ; 
But  kept  the  tenour  of  his  mind. 
To  merit  well  of  human-kind  ; 
Nor  made  a  sacrifice  of  those 
Who  still  were  true,  to  please  his  foes. 
I|e  labour'd  many  a  fruitless  hour. 
To  reconcile  his  ^ends  in  power ; 
Saw  mischief  by  a  foctiou  brewing. 
While  they  pursued  each  other's  ruin. 
But,  finding  vain  was  all  his  care,    • 
He  left  the  court  in  mere  despair. 

<*  And,  oh !  how  short  are  human  schemes  \* 
Here  ended  all  our  golden  dreams. 
What  St  John's  skill  m  state  aflairs. 
What  Ormond's  valour,  Oxford's  cares. 
To  save  their  sinking  country  lent. 
Was  all  destroy'd  by  one  event 
Too  soon  that  precious  life  was  ended. 
On  which  alone  our  weal  depended. 
When  up  a  dangerous  faction  starts^ 
With  wrath  and  vengeance  in  their  heartsi 
By  iolemn  league  and  covenant  bounds 
To  ruin,  slauj^ter,  and  oonfbfund  ; 
To  turn  religioo  to  a  foble. 
And  make  the  government  a  Babel ; 
Pervert  the  laws,  disgrace  the  gown. 
Corrupt  the  sena^  rob  the  crown  ; 
To  sacrifice  Old  England'^  glory. 
And  make  her  infamous  in  story: 
When  such  a  tempest  shook  the  land. 
How  could  unguarded  vhrtue  stand ! 
.    "  With  horrour,  grief,  da^r,  the  dean 
Beheld  the  dire  destructive  scene : 
His  friends  in  exile,  or  the  Tower, 
Himself  within  tHe  firown  of  power; 
Pursued  by  base  envenoro'd  pens. 

Far  to  the  land  of  s and  fens ; 

A  servile  race  in  folly  nurs*d| 

Who  truckle  n^  when  treated  worst 

**  By  innocence  and  resolution. 
He  bore  continual  persecutioQ ; 
While  numbers  to  preferment  rose« 
Whose  merit  was  to  he  his  foes ; 
When  tfo'n  hu  own  famiUar  friendtf 
Intent  upon  their  private  ends. 
Like  renegadoes  now  'he  fbels, 
Agahut  him  lifting  tp  their  heelf, 

"  The  dean  did,  by  his  pen>  def^ 
An  infemous  destructive  cheat ; 
Taught  fbols  thejr  interest  how  to  know. 
And  gave  them  arms  to  ward  the  bloWk 
Envy  hath  owu*d  it  was  hb  doing. 
To  save  that  hapless  land  from  ruin  ; 
While  they  who  at  the  steerage  stood. 
And  reap*d  the  profit,  tooght  his  Uoo^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


AN  EPISTLE  iro  tlV6  FRIENDS. 


ill 


*  To  save  them  from  their  evil  fiite, 
.'.  him  was  held  a  crime  of  state. 
^  wicked  monster  on  the  bench, 
^liose  fiuy  blood  could  never  quench  } 
«is  vile  and  profligate  a  villain, 
A?  modem  Scn>gg»v  or  old  Tressilian  ; 
Who  long  all  justice  had  discarded, 
Nor  feared  he  God,  nur  man  regarded  | 
Vow'd  on  the  dean  his  rage  to  vent, 
.And  make  him  of  his  zeal  repent: 
But  Heaven  his  innocence  defends. 
The  grateful  people  stand  his  frien48  ; 
Not  strains  of  law,  nor  judges'  frown, 
Nor  topics  brought  to  please  the  crown^ 
Kor  witness  hir'd,  nor  jury  picked. 
Prevail  to  bring  him  in  convict. 

'*  In  exile,  with  a  steady  heart. 
He  spent  his  life's  declining  part; 
Wiert  folly,  pride,  and  Miction  sway, 
Kemoic  from  St  John,  Pope,  and  Gay."* 

'*  Alas,  poor  dean !  his  only  scope 
Was  to  be  held  a  mtianMDojMt. 
This  into  general  odium  drew  him. 
Which  if  he  lik'd,  much  good  may  H  do  hlmm 
His  zeal  was  not  to  lash  our  crimes    '■ 
Bnt  disoonieni  against^  the  times : 
For,  had  we  made  him  dmely  offeia 
To  rat$e  hiapoff,  or///  his  coffert^ 
Perhaps  he  might  have  truckled  down. 
Like  other  brethren  of  his  gehm  ; 
Vor  jmftif  he  would  scarce  have  Ued  :— 
I  say  no  more — because  he  's  deatL'-^ 
What  writings  has  be  left  behind  ?'* 

"  I  hear  they  >re  of  a  dUferent  khndt 
A  few  in  verse ;  but  most  ioproee-^" 

"  Some  high'fown  pamphlets,  I  suppoM  :— 
All  scribbled  in  the  teorst  of  iitnes, 
^o  palliate  his  friend  Oxford's  crimes  ; 
To  praise  queen  Anne,  nay  more,  defend  her 
As  never  ftivouring  the  Pivtender : 
Or  libels  yet  cooceal'd  from  sight. 
Against  the  court  to  show  his  spite : 
Perhaps  his  travels,  part  the  third  ; 
A  lie  at  every  second  w}rd'^ 
Offensive  to  a  loyal  ear  :— 
Bnt — not  one  sermon,  you  may  swearJ" 

'^  He  knew  an  hundred  pleadng  stories 
With  all  the  turns  of  Whigs  and  Tories; 
Was  cheerful  to  his  dymg-day ; 
And  Jriends  would  let  him  have  his  way* 

"  ^  for  his  works  in  verse  or  prose, 
I  own  myself  no  judge  of  those. 
Nor  can  I  tell  what  critics  thought  them  i 
But  this  i  know,  all  people  bought  them, 
As  with  a  moral  view  design'd 
To  f  lease  and  to  reform  mankind : 
And,  if  he  often  miss'd  his  aim. 
The  world  must  own  it  to  their  shame, 
The  jnraise  is  his,  and  theirs  the  blame* 
He  gave  the  little  wealth  he  had 
To  build  a  house  for  fools  and  mad  ^ 
To  show,  by  one  satiric  touch, 
No  nation  wanted  it  so  much. 
That  kingdom  he  hath  left  hit  debtor, 
I  with  ift  soon  may  have  a  better. 
Andy  sioee  you  dread  no  further  los^, 
Mftbioki  yog  mnj/orriv*  Mt  ashes.*' 


AN  EPISTLE  TO  TWO  F^iEUDS  K 

TO  DR.  HELSH4 


8ii,  Nov.  2^  at  night,  1731. 

Wrin  I  left  you,  I  found  myselY  of  the  grapeX 

juice  sick ; 
T  'm  so  ftill  of  pity,  I  never  abuse  sick ; 
And  the  patientest  patient  that  ever  you  knew  rick. 
Both  when  I  am  purge-sick,  and  when  I  am  spew* 

sick. 
I  pitied  my  oat,  whom  1  knew  by  her  mew  sick  I 
She  mended  at  first,  but  now  she  *s  a-new  sick. 
Captain  Butler  made  some  in  the  church  black  and 

blue  sick ;  [pew-sick. 

Dean  Cross,  bad  he  preach'd',  would  have  inade  us  all 
Are  not  you,  in  a  crowd  when  you  sweat  and  stew, 

sick  ?  [ack. 

Lady  Santry  got  out  of  the  church  when  she  gre^ 
And,  as  fost  as  she  could,  to  the  deanery  fleiw  sick* 
Miss  Morice  was  (1  can  assure  you  tis  true)  sick : ' 
For,  who  wonld  not  be  in  that  numerooi  crew  sick  ?  - 
Such  music  would  make  a  fanatic  or  Jew  sick. 
Yet,  ladies  are  seldom  at  ombi  e  or  lui  sick  s  [sick. 
Nor  is  old  Nanny  Shales,  whene'er  she  does  brew. 
My  footman  came  home  from  the  church  of  a  bruise 
sick,  [task ; 

And  look'd  like  a  rake,  who  was  made  in  the  stewa 
But  you  learned  doctors  can  make  whom  you  choose 

sick : 
And  poor  I  myself  was,  when  I  withdrew,  sick ;  [tick» 
For  the  smell  of  them  made  me  like  garlic  8^  rue 
And  I  got  through  the  crowd,  though  not  let  by  » 

clue,  sick. 
You  hop'd  to  find  many  (for  that  was  your  cue)  sick| 
But  there  was  not  a  docen  (to  give  them  thdr  due) 

sick. 
And  those,  to  be  rare,  ttuck  together  like  glew,  sick* 
So  are  ladies  us  crowds,  when  tihey  squeeze  and  they 

screw,  sick^  [sick| 

You  may  find  they  are  all,  by  their  yellow  pale  hue. 
So  am  I,  when  tobacco,  like  Robin,  I  chew,  sick* 

TO  DR.  SHERIDAN. 
IF  I  write  any  more,  it  will  make  my  poor  AJ^oaa 

Slick. 

This  night  I  cama  home  with  a  very  cold  dew  fick. 
And  1  wish  I  may  soon  be  not  of  an  ague  sick ; 
Bnt  I  hope  I  shall  ne'er  be,  like  you,  of  a  shrew  sick. 
Who  often  has  made  me,  by  looking  askew,  sick. 


DR.  HKLSIIAM'S  ANSWER. 

Taa  doctor's  first  rhyme  would  make  any  Jew  sicks 
1  know  it  has  made  a  fine  lady  in  bluie  sick. 
For  which  she  is  gone  in  a  coach  to  Killbrew  sick; 
Like  a  hen  I  once  had,  from  a  fox  when  she  flew  sicki 
Last  Monday  a  lady  at  St  Patrick's  did  spew  tick, ' 
And  made  «U  the  rest  of  the  folks  in  the  pew  sick;  ^ 

^This  medley  (for  it  cannot  be  called  a  poem)  is 
given  as  a  specimen  of  those  bagateOet  for  whidi 
the  dean  hath  peihaps  been  two  severdy  censored. 
Some,  which  wer^  ftitt  move 
soppc^ssad.    if. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


tilt 


SWIFTS  POEfifS. 


The  snrgeod  who  hied  her,  his  lancet  out  drew  sick^ 
And  stopt  the  distemper,  as  heing  but  new  sick. 
The  yacht,  the  last  storm,  had  all  her  whole  crew  sick; 
Had  we  two  been  there,  it  would  have  madettend 

yoasick: 
A  lady  that  loog>d,  is  by  eating  of  glew  nok; 
XM  you  ever  know  one  m  a  very  good  Q  sick? 
I  'm  told  that  my  wife  is  by  windmg  a  clue  sick ; 
Hie  doctors  have  made  her  by  riiyme  and  by  rue  sick. 
There  's  a  gamester  in  town,  for  a  throw  that  he 
threw  sick. 
And  yet  the  old  trade  of  hb  dice  he  *n  pitrsue  sick ; 
4  've  known  an  old  miser  for  paying  his  doe  sick ; 
At  present  I  »m  grown  by  a  pmch  of  my,  shoe  »ck. 
And  what  would  you  have  me  with  verses  to  do  sick? 
Send  liiymes,  and  I  Ml  send  you  some  others  in  lue 
Of  rtiymes  I  've  a  plenty,  (sick. 

And  therefore  send  twenty. 
Answered  the  same  day  when  sent,  Nov.  23. 
I  desire  you  will  carry  both  these  to  the  doctor, 
together  wUh  his  own ;  and  let  him  know  we  are 
•ot  penons  to  he  insulted. 

'<  Can  you  match  with  me. 
Who  tend  thirty-three  ? 
You  must  get  fourteen  more, 
To  make  up  tbhty-four : 
But,  if  me  yon  can  conquer, 
1 11  own  you  a  strong  cur  >.'* 
This  morning  I  'mgrowmg  by  smellhig  of  yew  ode; 
My  brother 's  codne  over  with  gold  from  Peru  sick; 
lAst  night  1  came  home  inastormthatthenblewsick; 
This  moment  my  dog  at  a  cat  I  halloo  sick ;  [sick, 
I  bear,  from  good  hands,  that  my  poor  cousin  Hugh's 
By  quaAng  a  bottle,  and  pulling  a  screw  sick : 
And  DOW  there  's  no  more  I  can  write  (you  '11  ex- 
cuse) sick  ; 
You  see  that  I  scorn  to  mentkm  word  mustck* 
imdomybest. 
To  send  the  rest  { 
.  Without  a  jest, 
1  '11  stand  the  tesU  [n6k; 

These  lines  that  I  send  you,  I  hope  you  11  peruse 
1 11  make  you  with  writing  a  little  more  news  sick : 
huX  night  I  came  home  with  drinking  of  booze  sick ; 
Hy  carpenter  swears  that  he  11  hack  and  he  11  hew 
An  officer's  lady,  I  'm  told,  is  tattoo  sick :  [sick; 
)  *m  afraid  that  the  line  thirty-four  you  will  view 
Lprd !  I  could  write  a  dozen  more ;  .  [sk^. 
Yon  se^  've  mounted  thiity-foui^ 


•N  TWM  BViTS  >  W  atCHMOMD  BIRMrTAat^      17^2. 

Sic  sibi  lastantur  docti. 

Wm  honour  thus  by  Carolina  plac*d, 
flow  are  theM  venerable  bustoes  grac'd  t 
O  qoeeo,  wHh  more  than  regal  title  crown'dy 
lot  love  of  arts  and  piety  renown'd! 

•nie  lines  **  thos  maiked*'  were  writtea  by  Dr. 
ftrift,  at  the  bottom  of  Div  Helsham'a  twenty  lines; 
sttd  the  tbUoiviBg  fourteen  were  aftarwpfda  added  to 
t^orsaiM  paper.    If. 


How  do  the  friends  of  virtne  jof  to  880 
Her  darhng  sons  eisalted  thus  1^  thee  ! 
Nought  to  their  fome  can  now  be  added  moNi 
Rever'd  by  her  whom  aUfliaakiad  adore* 


ANOTHER. 


Lewis  the  living  learned  fed. 
And  nus*d  the  icientific  head : 
Our  frugal  queen,  to  save  her  meat. 
Exalts  the  head  that  cannot  eat 


A  COHCLUSXOir -DaAWK   tltOK   Tn    A10V8 

ANO  surr  TO  tbi  ntArist.  • 


inosAiMl 


Stvcs  Anna,  whoae  bounty  thy  merits  had  fed, 
Ere  her  own  was  laid  low^  had  exalted  thy  head; 
And  since  our  good  queen  to  the  wise  is  so  just. 
To  raise  het^i  fo|  soch  as  are  hnmbled  m  dost  i 
I  wonder,  good  man,  that  yon  are  not  envauHed  ; 
Pr'ytiiee,  go  and  be  <fead,  and  be  doubly  exalted. 


DIt  SWIFTS  ANSWER. 

Hxa  mijeity  never  shall  be  my  exaUer; 

And  yet  s^  would  raise  me,  Iknow,  bf  a  balterl- 


TO  THE  REVEREND  DR.  SWIFT. 

wrra  A  paxstNT  op  a  pAnm-aoox  fimect  bookb^ 

ON  Hii  BiaTH-nAY,  Novsioxa  30,  1738. 

BY  JOHN  EARL  OP  ORRERY. 

To  thee,  dear  Swift,  these  spoUeas  Iteves  I  sead; 

Smidl  » the  present,  but  sincere  the  fkiood. 

Think  not  so  poor  a  book  below  thy  care; 

Who  knows  the  price  that  thou  canst  make  it  benr  I 

Tlioogh  tawdry  mw,  and,  like  Tyrilla's  fece. 

The  specious  front  shines  out  with  borrowed  grace  ; 

Though  paste-boards,  glittering  Uke  a  tiniel'd  ooM^ 

A  rata  tabula  within  denote :  * 

Yet,  if  a  venal  and  corrupted  age. 

And  modern  vices,  diottld  provoke  thy  rage ; 

If,  wam'd  (Snce  more  by  their  impending  fete, 

A  shddng  country  and  an  injured  state 

Thy  great  assistance  should  again  demand. 

And  call  fbrth  reason  to  defend  the  land ; 

Then  riiall  we  view  these  sheets  with  glad  surpiii^ 

Inspired  with  thought,  and  speaking  to  our  eyes  : 

Each  vacant  space  shall  then,  enrich'd,  dispense 

True  force  of  ek)quenoe,  and  nervous  sense; 

Inform  the  judgineot,  animate  the  heart. 

And  sacred  rules  of  poUcy  unpart 

The  spangled  covering,  bri^it  with  splendid  oi% 

Shall  cheat  the  sight  with  empty  show  no  more| 

But  lead  us  faiwaid  to  those  golden  mines, 

Where  all  thy  soul  in  native  lustre  shines. 

;So  when  the  tf  surveys  some  lovely  feir. 

With  bkxmi  of  beauty  grac'd,  with  shape  and  «tr| 

Mow  is  the  rapture  heigfaten*d,  when  we  tbaX 

H«  form  oneU'd  by  ber  odflflial  Blind  i 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


THE  BEAST»  CONFESSION. 


ilM 


VBBSES 
LEFT  WITH  A  SILVER  CTANDISH 

OM  TBI  DEAN  OP  tT.  tATlICK't  DSSK 

ON  HIS  BIRTH-DAY. 

BT  2NU  OILAIIY. 

HiTBiR  from  Mexico  I  came. 
To  serve  a  proud  lemian  dame : 
"Was  loog  submitted  to  her  will  5 
At  length  she  lost  me  at  quadrille, 
Tbrough  various  shapes  I  often  pass'^ 
Still  hopmg  to  have  rest  at  last; 
And  still  ambitious  to  obtain 
Admittance  to  the  patriot  dean ; 
And  sometimes  got  within  his  door, 
But  soon  tuni*d  out  to  serve  the  poor  >; 
Not  strolling  Idleness  to  aid. 
But  honest  Industry  decay'd. 
At  length  an  artist  purcbas'd  me. 
And  wrought  me  to  the  shape  you  sei^ 

This  done,  to  Hermes  I  apply'd  i 
*'0  Hermes!  gratify  my  pride; 
Be  it  my  fate  to  serve  a  sage. 
The  greatest  genius  of  his  age : 
That  matchless  pen  let  me  supply. 
Whose  living  lines  will  never  die  !** 

**  I  grant  your  suit,"  the  god  reply»d; 
And  here  he  left  me  to  reside. 


VERSES 

OCCASIONBD  BT 

THE  FOREQOINO  PRESENTS. 

A  PAPBK-BooK  is  sent  by  Boyle, 
Too  neaUy  gilt  for  me  to  soiL 
Delany  sends  a  silver  standish, 
When  I  no  more  a  pen  can  brandish. 
Let  both  around  my  tomb  he  plac'd. 
As  trophies  of  a  Muse  deceased: 
And  let  the  friendly  lines  they  writ 
In  praise  of  long-departed  wit 
Be  grav*d  on  either  side  in  columns. 
More  to  my  praise  than  all  my  volumes, 
1  o  burst  with  eavy,  upitt,  and  rage. 
The  vandals  of  the  present  age. 


THE  BEjiSTS  CONFESSION 
TO  THE  PRIEST. 

•H   OBSiaVlNO   HOW    MOST  MEN  MISTAKl  THBIt  OWX 
TALBNTS.        1732. 

Whew  beasts  could  speak  (the  learned  say 

Tncy  still  can  do  so  every  day). 

It  seems,  they  had  religion  then. 

As  much  as  now  we  find  in  men. 

It  happened,  when  a  plague  broke  out 

(Whidi  therefore  made  them  more  devout), 

1  Alluding  to  500/.  a  year  lent  by  thf  d^n,  with- 
•otmtcre8t.topoortradeini«L    JR 
Vol.  XL 


I  The  king  of  brutes  (to  make  ft  plau^ 
Of  quadrupeds  I  only  mean) 
By  proclamation  gave  command. 
That  every  subject  in  the  land 
Should  to  the  priest  confess  their  sins  ; 
And  thus  the  pious  wolf  b^;tns : 
«*Good  fiither,  I  must  own  with  sL- 
That  often  I  have  been  to  blame : 
I  must  confess,  on  Friday  last, 
Wretch  that  I  was !  Ibrokemy&st: 
But  I  defy  the  basest  toi^e 
To  prove  1  did  my  neighbour  wrong  j 
Or  ever  went  to  seek  my  food 
By  rapine,  theft,  or  thirst  of  blood." 

The  ass,  approaching  next,  confesa'df 
That  in  his  heart  he  k>v*d  a  jest : 
A  wag  he  was,  he  needs  must  own. 
And  could  not  let  a  dunce  alone : 
Sometimes  his  friend  he  would  not  spartt^ 
And  might  perhaps  he  too  severe : 
But  yet,  the  worst  that  could  be  said. 
He  was  a  coi/ both  bom  and  bred  ; 
And,  if  it  be  a  sin  or  shame. 
Nature  alone  must  bear  the  blame  s 
One  fault  he  hath,  is  sorry  for  % 
His  ears  are  half  a  foot  too  short ; 
Which  could  he  to  the  standard  bring. 
He  *d  show  his  face  befbre  the  king : 
Then  for  his  voice,  there  's  none  disputet 
That  he  »s  the  nightingale  of  brutes. 

The  swine  with  contrite  heart  allowed. 
His  shape  and  beauty  made  him  proud  s 
In  diet  was  perhaps  too  nice 
But  gluttony  was  ne'er  his  vice  i 
In  every  turn  of  life  content. 
And  meekly  took  what  fortune  sent  s 
Inquire  through  all  the  parish  round, 
A  better  neighbour  ne'er  was  found : 
His  vigilance  might  sonte  displease; 
Tis  true,  he  hated  stoth  like  pease. 
The  mimic  ape  began  his  chatter. 
How  eril  tongues  his  life  bespatter: 
Much  of  the  censuring  worid  complain'd. 
Who  said,  his  gravity  was  feign'd  : 
Indeed  the  strictness  of  his  morals 
Hogag'd  him  in  a  hundred  quarrels : 
He  saw,  and  he  was  grieved  to  see  \ 
His  zeal  was  sometimes  indiscreet : 
He  found  bis  virtues  too  se\'ere 
For  our  corrupted  tiroes  to  bear : 
Yet  such  a  lewd  licentious  age 
Might  well  excuse  a  stoic's  rage. 

The  goat  advanced  with  decent  pace  s 
And  first  excus*d  his  youthibl  face ; 
Forgiveness  begg'd,  that  he  appeared 
(Twas  nature's  foult)  without  a  beaid. 
Tis  true,  he  was  not  much  inclined 
To  fondness  for  the  female  khid  ; 
Not,  as  his  enemies  object. 
From  chance,  or  natural  defect; 
Not  by  bis  frigid  constitution  ; 
But  through  a  pious  resolution : 
For  he  had  made  a  holy  vow 
Of  chastity,  as  monks  do  now ; 
Which  he  resolv*d  to  keep  for  ever  IwaotL 
And  strictly  too,  as  doth  his  reveraiiM  1. 

Apply  the  tale,  and  you  shall  find. 
How  just  it  suits  with  human-kind. 

AThopriwthtfCODfSNOfk 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


iU 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Some  foults  we  own :  but,  can  you  guess? 
— Why,  virtues  carried  to  excess, 
Wherewith  our  vanity  endows  us, 
Though  neither  foe  nor  friend  allows  us. 

The  lawyer  swears  (you  may  rely  oa  *t) 
He  never  squeezed  a  needy  client ; 
And  this  he  makes  his  coustant  nde ; 
For  which  his  bretijreo  call  him  fool : 
Ki.^  conscience  always  was  so  nice. 
He  freely  j^avf  the  poor  advice ; 
By  which  he  lost,  he  may  affirm, 
A  hundred  fees  last  Eai^ter-tenn. 
While  others  of  the  learned  robe 
Would  break  the  patience  of  a  Job, 
Ko  pleader  at  the  bar  could  match 
H'S  dilisrcnce  and  quick  dispatch ; 
Ne*er  kept  a  cau^je,  he  well  may  boast, 
Aliove  a  term,  or  two  al  most. 

Tlie  .crinjring  knave  who  seeks  «  place 
"Without  success,  thus  tells  his  case : 
Why  should  he  longer  mince  the  matter? 
lie  faiPd,  because  he  could  not  flatter; 
He  had  not  leam'd  to  turn  bis  coat, 
Nor  for  a  party  give  his  vote ; 
His  crime  be  quickly  understood; 
I'oo  zealous  for  the  nation*s  good : 
He  found  the  ministers  resent  it. 
Yet  could  not  for  his  heart  repent  \U 

The  chaplain  vows  he  cannot  fawn. 
Though  it  would  raise  him  to  the  lawn  : 
He  passed  his  hours  among  his  books  ; 
You  find  it  in  his  Dwjagre  looks: 
He  might,  if  he  were  worldly  wise. 
Preferment  get,  and  spare  his  eyes; 
But  own*d  he  had  a  stubborn  spirit. 
That  made  him  trust  alone  to  merit : 
Would  rise  by  merit  to  promotion ; 
Alas  !  a  mere  chimeric  notion. 

The  doctor,  if  you  will  believe  him, 
ConfcssM  a  s'm;  and  (God  forgive  him  !) 
Caird  up  at  midnight,  ran  to  save 
A  blind  old  beggar  from  the  grave ; 
But  see  how  Satan  spreads  bis  snares; 
He  quite  forgot  to  say  his  prayers. 
He  cannot  help  it  for  his  heart 
Sometimes  to  act  the  parson  s  part : 
Quotes  from  the  Bible  many  a  sentence^ 
That  moves  his  patients  to  repentance : 
And,  when  his  medicines  do  no  good. 
Supports  their  minds  with  heavenly  food^ 
At  which,  however  well  intended. 
He  hears  the  clergy,  are  offended, 
And  grown  so  bold  behind  his  back. 
To  call  him  h3rpocrite  and  quack. 
In  his  own  church  be  keeps  a  seat| 
Says  grace  before  and  after  meat ; 
And  calls,  without  affecting  airs. 
His  household  twice  a  day  to  praycrt. 
He  shuns  apothecaries'  shops. 
And  hates  to  cram  the  sick  with  slope  s 
He  scorns  to  make  his  art  a  trade, 
Kor  bribes  my  lady'^  favourite  maid  f 
Old  nurse-keepers  would  never  hire^ 
To  recommend  him  to  the  squire; 
Which  others,  whom  he  will  not  neoH^ 
Jffave  often  practised  to  their  shame 

The  statesman  tells  you,  with  a  j 
His  fault  is  to  be  too  tincert ; 
And,  having  no  sinister  ends. 
Is  sift  W  diiebfige  bis  fioends. 


The  nation*s  good,  his  master^  ti^^t 

Without  regard  to  Whig  or  Tory, 

Were  all  the  schemes  he  had  in  view; 

Yet  he  was  seconded  by  few : 

Though  some  had  spread  a  tboosaod  (jres, 

Twas  he  defeated  the  excise. 

Twas  knqjf  n,  though  he  had  borne  aspersMMV 

That  slanain^  troops  were  his  aversioo^ 

His  practise  was,  in  every  station. 

To  serve  the  king,  and  please  the  ndDun^ 

Though  bard  to  6nd  in  every  case 

The  fitter  man  to  611  a  place : 

His  promises  he  ne*er  forgot. 

But  took  memorials  on  the  spot : 

His  enemies,  for  want  of  charity. 

Said,  he  ai^'er ted  popularity : 

Tis  true,  the  people  understood. 

That  all  he  did  was  for  their  good  ; 

TT»eir  kind  affections  he  has  try'd  ; 

No  love  is  lost  on  either  side. 

He  came^  court  with  fortune  clear^ 

Which  now  he  runs  out  every  year : 

Must,  at  the  rate  that  he  goes  on. 

Inevitably  be  undone^ 

Oh !  if  his  majesty  would  please 

To  give  him  but  a  writ'  of  ease. 

Would  grant  him  licence  to  retire^ 

As  it  hath  long  b^n  his  desire, 

By  fair  accounts  it  would  be  found. 

He  's  poorer  by  ten  thousand  pound. 

He  owns,  and  hopes  st  is  no  sin. 

He  ne*er  was  partial  to  his  kin ; 

He  thought  it  base  for  men  in  stations 

To  crowd  the  court  with  their  relations: 

His  country  was  his  dearest  mother. 

And  erery  virtuous  man  his  brother; 

TTirotigh  modesty  or  awkward  shame 

(For  which  he  owns  himself  to  Mame), 

He  f  >ond  the  wisest  man  he  could. 

Without  respect  to  friends  or  blood  ; 

Nor  never  acts  on  private  vjews. 

When  he  hath  liberty-  to  choose. 

The  sharper  swore  he  hated  play. 
Except  to  pass  an  hour  away : 
And  well  he  might ;  for,  to  his  cos^ 
By  want  of  skill  be  always  lost: 
He  heard  there  was  a  club  of  cheats^ 
Who  had  contrivM  a  thousand  feats ; 
Could  change  the  stock,  or  cog  a  dye. 
And  thus  deceive  the  sharpest  eye. 
Nor  wonder  how  his  fortune  sunk  ; 
His  brothers  fleece  him  when  he  's  dm^ 

I  own  the  moral  not  exact :  , 
Besides,  the  tale  is  fahe  in  fact ; 
And  so  absord,  that  coukl  I  raise  up 
From  fields  Elysian,  fabling  iEsop, 
I  would  accuse  him  to  his  fisce 
For  libeling  the  four-foot  race. 
Cr«itures  of  every  kind  but  ours 
Well  comprehend  their  natural  powen^ 
While  we,  whom  reamm  ought  to  swajr^ 
Mistake  our  talents  every  day. 
The  ass  was  never  known  so  stupid 
To  act  the  part  of  Tray  or  Cupid; 
Nor  leiqis  upon  his  master's  lap. 
There  to  be  stroked,  and  fed  with  ptg^ 
Ai  JEsop'would  the  world  persuade  ; 
He  better  undentands  his  trade: 
Nor  oomes,  whenever  his  lady  wfaisdH| 
Alt  ctcM  ]oads»  and  feodg  <n  thisdii. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


that  author's  BManing,  I  presume,  a 
A  creature  bipes  et  imp/umit ; 
Wherein  the  moralist  desiga'd 
A  compliment  on  bntnan-ltind : 
For  here  be  owns,  that  now  and  theik 
Beaits  Auj  deg0iuif4U^  into  man. 


4DV1CE  TO  A  PARSON.    1732. 


CASE.  .  i  .  A  LOVE  SONGK  '      sia^ 

THE  HARDSHIP  UPON  THE  LADIES. 

1733. 

Pool  ladies !  though  their  business  be  to  play, 
Tis  hard  they  must  be  busy  nigbt  and  day  : 
Why  should  they  ♦-ant  the  privilege  of  men, 
Nor  take  some  small  diversions  now  and  then  } 
Had  women  been  the  makers  of  our  laws 
(And  why  they  were  not,  I  can  see  no  cause), 
The  men  should  slave  at  cards  from  mom  till  nigbL 
And  female  pleasures  be  to  read  and  write*      ' 


WotfLD  you  rise  *m  the  c*«rf  A  f  be  stupid  and  dull . 
Be  empty  of  learning,  of  in  olence  full ; 
Though  lewd  and  immoral,  be  formal  and  grave. 
In  flattery  an  artist,  in  fawning  a  slave : 
No  merit,  no  science,  no  virtue,  is  wanting 
In  faim  that 's  acconiplishM  in  crimgmg  and  canting, 
fte  studious  to  practise  true  meanness  of  spirit ; 
for  who  but  lord  Bolton  »  was  mitred  for  merit  f 
Would  you  wish  to  be  wrapt  in  a  rochet  f  m.  shorty 
Be  pa  d  and  ynSuM  «s  F-^  or  Beite  K 


THE  PARSON'S  CASEi 

That  you,  friend  Marcus,  like  a  stoic, 
Cin  wish  to  die  in  strains  heroic. 
No  real  fortitude  implies: 
Yet,  all  must  own,  thy  wish  is  wise. 
Thy  oaratc^s  place,  thy  fruitful  wi£e, 
?liy  busy  drndgiog  scene  of  li£ei. 
Thy  knaleut,  iUiterate  vicar. 
Thy  want  of  all-consoling  liquor. 
Thy  throad  bare  gown,  thy  cassoc  nen^ 
Thy  credit  sunk,  thy  money  spent. 
Thy  week  made  up  of  fasting-days. 
Thy  grate  unconscious  of  a  blaze. 
And,  to  complete  thy  other  curses. 
The  quarterly  demands  of  nurses. 
Are  ills  you  wisely  wish  to  leave. 
And  fly  for  refuge  to  the  grave : 
And,  oh,  what  virtue  you  express, 
In  wishing  such  afflictions  less  ! 

But,  now,  should  Fortune  shift  the  scene, 
And  make  thy  corateship  a  dean  ; 
Or  some  rich  bene6ce  provide. 
To  pamper  luxury  and  pride ; 
With  labour  small,  and  inconie  great; 
With  chariot  less  for  use  than  state ; 
^l^th  sweUing  scarf  and  glossy  gown, 
And  licence  to  reside  in  town  j 
To  shine,  where  all  the  gay  resort. 
At  concerts,  co6^>hou8e,  or  court. 
And  weekly  persecute  his  grace 
With  visits,  or  to  beg  a  place  j 
With  underiings  thy  flodc  to  teach. 
With  no  desire  to  pray  or  preach  j 
With  haughty  spouse  in  vesture  fine. 
With  plenteous  meals  and  generous  wipei 
Wonidst  thoa  not  wish,  in  so  much  ease. 
Thy  yeare  as  numerous  as'thy  days  ? 

<  Then  archbish<^  of  CasbelL 
'  At  tliat  tiiM  biibop  of  JKilmmt 


A  LOVE  SONG, 

til  THl  UOPSail  TASTK.      1731k 

FLtrmaiNo  spread  thy  purple  pinion^ 
Gentle  Cupid,  o*er  my  heart; 

I  a  slave  in  thy  dominions ; 
Nature  must  give  way  to  ai^ 

Mild  Arcadians,  ever  blooming, 
Nightly  nodding  o'er  your  flocki| 

See  my  weary  days  consuming 
All  beneath  yon  flowery  rocks. 

Thus  the  Cyprian  goddess  weeping   ^ 
Moum*d  Adonis,  darimg  youth  t 

I  Him  the  boar,  in  silence  creeping, 
Gor'd  with  unrelenting  tooth* 

Cynthia,  tune  harmonioos  nnmben  ( 
^  Fair  Discretion,  string  the  lyre ! 
Sooth  my  ever-wakin?  slumbers  j 
Bright  Apollo,  lend  thy  choir. 

Gloomy  Phito,  king  of  terronrs, 

ArmM  in  adamantine  chain*. 
Lead  me  to  the  crystal  mirrors 

Watering  soft  Elysian  plains. 

Mournful  cypress,  verdant  wiUo#, 

Gilding  my  Aurelia*s  brows, 
Morpheus,  hovermg  o'er  my  pillow. 

Hear  me  pay  my  dying  vows. 

Melincholy  smooth  Maeander, 

Swiftly  purling  in  a  round. 
On  thy  margin  lovers  wander, 

With  thy  flowery  chaplets  crown*|. 

Thus  when  Philomela  drooping 

Softly  seeks  her  silent  matd. 
See  the  bird  of  Judo  stooping  |    . 

Melody  resigns  to  fate. 


OK  THB  WOftOt 

BROTHER  PROTESTANTS^ 
FELLOJF  CHRISTIANS, 

so  FAIIltlAaLT  USED    IT    THl    AWroCATlf  poa  TB* 
IBFEAL  OF  THE  TBST-ACT  IN  ItXLAUD^      t733. 

An  inaodatioa,  says  the  &ble 
O'erflow'd  a  fiurocr'f  buB  vA  lt»bl«; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


519 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Whole  ricks  of  bay*  aiul  itadn  of  corn. 
Were  down  the  Hidden  current  borne  i 
While  things  of  heterogeneous  kind 
Together  float  with  tide  and  wind. 
The  generous  wheat  forgot  its  pride. 
And  sail'd  with  litter  side  by  sule ; 
Uniting  all,  to  show  their  amity, 
As  m  a  general  calamity. 
A  ball  of  new-dropt  horse^s  dung, 
Mingling  with  apples  in  the  throng, 
8aid  to  the  pippin  plump  and  prim, 
*'  See,  brother,  how  we  apples  swim." 

Thus  Lamb,  renown*d  for  cutting  corns. 
An  offer'd  fee  of  Radcliff  scorns : 
**  Not  for  the  world— we  doctors,  brother. 
Must  take  no  fees  of  one  another.** 
Thus  to  a  doui  some  curate  sloven 
Subscribe,  **  Dear  sir,  your  brother  loriog.** 
Thus  all  the  footmen,  shoe-boys,  porters. 
About  St,  James's,  cry,  "  We  courtiers.** 
Thus  H-^  in  the  house  will  prate, 
"  'sir,  we  the  mmisters  of  state.'' 
Thus  at  the  bar  the  blockhead  Bettesworth, 
Though  half  a  crown  overpays  his  sweat's  worth. 
Who  Knows  in  law  nor  text  nor  margeut, 
GUIs  Singleton  his  brother  sergeant 
And  thus  fonatic  saints,  though  neither  in 
Doctrine  nor  disciptine  our  brethren, 
Are  Brother  Protestants  and  Christians, 
As  much  as  Hebrews  and  Philistines : 
But  in  no  other  sense,  than  nature 
Has  made  a  rat  our  fbllow-creature. 
Lice  from  your  body  suck  their  food ; 
But  is  a  louse  your  flesh  aiid  bfood  ? 
Though  bom  of  human  filth  and  s^veat,  it 
May  as  wdl  be  said  man  did  beget  it : 
But  maggots  in  your  nose  and  chin 
As  well  may  claim  you  for  their  kin. 

Yet  critics  may  cJbject,  "  Why  not  ?  *» 
Since  lice  are  brediren  to  a  Scot : 
Which  made  our  swarm  of  sects  determine 
Emplojrments  for  tbei^  brother  vermin. 
But  be  they  English,  Irish,  Scottish, 
What  Protestant  can  be  so  sottish. 
While  o^er  the  church  these  clouds  ase  gathering, 
To  call  a  swarm  of  lice  his  brethren  ) 

As  Moses,  by  divine  advice. 
In  Egypt  tum'd  the  dust  to  lice ; 
And  as  our  sects,  by  all  descriptions. 
Have  hearts  more  hardeo'd  than  Egyptians ; 
As  firom  the  trodden  dust  they  spring, 
And,  tum'd  to  lice,  infest  the  king : 
For  pity's  sake,  it  would  be  just, 
Jk  rod  should  turn  them  back  to  dut^ 

Lei  folks  in  high  or  holy  stations 
Be  proud  of  owning  such  relationt; 
Let  courtiers  hug  them  in  their  botom. 
As  if  they  were  afraid  to  lose  'em : 
While  I,  with  humble  Job,  had  rather 
flay  to  corruption—'*  Thoo'rt  my  fotbtr.** 
For  be  that  has  so  littie  wit 
Ta  nourifh  vaimin,  ma^  bt  Hi. 


THE  VAHOO^M  OVEMTHBOWs 

01, 

THE  KEVAN  BALY^S  NEW  BALLAD^ 
UPON  saRoaANT  crrs's  msvLTim  nw  MAib 

TO  TM  TUNl  Of  *•  MIET  DOWK.'* 

Jolly  boys  of  St  Kevan's,  St  Patrick's,  DoDOf^ 
And  SmithfieM,  I  'U  teU  you,  if  not  toM  befote. 
How  Bettesworth,  that  booby,  and  scoundrel  m  graO^ 
Hath  insulted  us  all  by  insulting  tiie  dean. 

Knock  hhn  dovm,  dowHj  down^  knock  him  damum 
Tbe  dnn  and  his  merits  we  every  one  know  I 
But  this  skip  of  a  lawyer,  were  tiie  de'el  did  he  grow  t 
How  greater  his  merit  at  Four-courts  or  House, 
Than  the  barking  of  Towaer,  or  leap  of  a  louse  ? 

Knock  him  down,  «o» 

That  he  came  from  the  Temple,  his  mofals  dm 
show ; 
But  where  Ws  deepr  law  is,  few  mortals  yet  koofw  f 
His  rhetoric,  bombast,  siUy  jerts,  are  by  for 
More  like  to  lampooning,  thanpleadmg  at  bar. 

Knock  him  down,  oc^ 

This  pedlar,  at  speaking  and  making  of  lawa. 
Hath  met  with  returns  of  aU  sorts  but  appUuse; 
Has,  with  noise  and  odd  gestures,  been  prating  som© 

years. 
What  honester  folks  never  durst  for  thehr  ears. 

Knock  him  down,  9t^ 

Of  all  sizes  and  sorU,  the  fenatical  crew 
Are  his  Brother  Protestents,  good  men  and  tnie  ; 
Red  hat,  and  blue  bonnet,  and  turbant  !s  the  same  « 
What  the  de'el  is  t  to  him  whence  the  devil  tiiey 
came? 

Knock  Um  down,  M. 

Hobbes,  Tindal,  and  Woolston,  and  Collms,  and 
Nayler, 
And  Mugsleton,  Toland,  and  Bradley  the  taflor. 
Are  Christians  alike ;  and  it  may  be  averr'd. 
He  's  a  Christian  at  good  as  the  rest  of  the  herd. 
Knock  km  down,  &c 

He  only  the  rights  of  the  clergy  debates,  [rate* 
Their  rights !  their  importance !  We  '11  set  on  new 
On  their  tithes  at  half- nothing,  their  priesthood  at 

less: 
What 's  next  to  be  voted,  with  ease  you  may  gucM. 
Knock  hhn  down,  &c. 

At  length  his  old  master  (I  need  not  him  name) 
To  this  damnable  speaker  had  longow'd  a  shame; 
When  his  speech  came  abroad,  he  paid  him  off  deai^ 
By  leaving  him  under  the  pen  of  the  dean. 

Knock  him  down,  &C. 

He  khidled,  as  if  the  whole  satire  had  been 
The  oppression  of  virtue,  not  wages  of  sm : 
He  be^n,  as  he  brage'd,  with  a  rant  and  a  roar; 
He  bmgg'd  how  he  bouac'd,  and  ha  swore  bow  hf 
swore. 

Knock  him  down,  «c 

Though  he  cring'd  to  his  deanship  in  very  low 

strains. 

To  others  he  boasted  of  knocking  out  brains. 

And  slittmg  of  noses,  and  cropping  of  ears,  rshean. 

Whila  his  own  aiv't  xasgt  were  more  fit  for  the 

Kniotk  him  down,  9f^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ON  POETTRT. 


Sir 


On  this  weroer  of  deuw  vfaene'er  we  can  bit. 
We  '\\  dioir  turn  the  way  bow  to  crop  and  to  tlit ; 
We  '11  teacb  bkn  lome  better  addren  to  afibrd 
To  the  deui  of  dl  deans,  tboagfa  he  wears  not  a 

Knock  kim  down^  &c 

We  11  eolt  him  through  Reran,  St  Patrick's, 

Donoie, 

And  aniitbfield,  as  Rap  was  ne'er  colted  before ; 

We  11  oil  him  with  kennel,  and  powder  him  with 

A  modos  right  fit  for  insolters  of  deans.       [giains, 

Knock  him  down,  tec* 

And,  iHien  this  is  over,  we  '11  make  him  amends ; 
To  the  dean  be  shall  go;  they  shall  kiss  and  be 


But  how?  Why,  the  dean  shall  to  him  disclose 
A  face  for  to  kiss,  without  ^es,  ears,  or  nose. 

Knock  km  down,  &c. 
If  yon  say  this  if  bard  on  a  man  that  isreckon*d 
Thai  Sergeant  at  law  whom  we  call  Kite  the  second, 
Yon  mistake ;  for  a  Islave,  who  will  coax  his  supe- 
riors. 
May  beprood  to  be  lickinga  great  man's  posteriors. 
Knock  km  down,  he» 
What  care  we  how  high  runs  his  passion  or  pride  ? 
Though  his  soul  he  demises,  he  valaes  his  hide ; 
Then  fear  not4iis  tongue,  or  his  sword,  or  his  knife; 
Ht  '11  take  his  revenge  on  his  innocent  wife. 

Knock  kirn  down,  down,  down,  keep  kim  down. 


ON  TBI 

ARCHBISHOP  OF  CASHEL, 
AND  BETTESfTORTH. 

Z)n4ft  Di^,  pr'ythee  tell  by  what  passion  yon  move  ? 
The  worid  is  in  doubt,  whether  hatred  or  love; 
And,  while  at  good  Cashel  yon  rail  with  such  spite. 
They  shrewdly  suspeet  it  b  all  but  a  bite. 
Yon  certainly  know,  thongh  so  londly  you  vapour. 
His  spite  cannot  wound,  who  attempted  the  Drapier. 
Then,  pr'ythee,  reflect,  take  a  word  of  advice ; 
And,  as  your  old  wont  is,  change  sides  in  a  trice : 
On  his  virtues  hold  forth  ;  tis  the  very  best  way  ; 
And  say  of  the  man  what  all  honest  men  say. 
But  if,  still  obdurate,  your  anger  remains ; 
If  still  your  foul  bosom  more  rancour  contains ; 
Say  thai  more  than  they ;  nay,  lavishly  flatter, 
nis  your  gross  panegyrics  alone  can  bespatter : 
For  thine,  my  dear  Dick,  give  me  leave  to  speak 

plam, 
like  a  very  foul  mop,  dirty  more  than  they  clean. 


ON  POETRY: 
A  RHAPSODY.     1733. 

All  human  race  woukl  foin  be  wiis^ 
And  millions  miss  for  one  that  hits. 
Young's  universal  passion,  frido. 
Was  never  known  to  spreaa  so  widt. 
Say,  Britain,  could  you  ever  boail 
Time  poeti  in  an  age  at  most  ? 


Our  chilling  climale  hardly  beai« 
A  iprig  of  bays  in  fifty  yeara; 
While  every  fool  his  claim  alledgas. 
As  if  it  grew  m  common  hedges. 
What  reason  can  there  be  assign'd 
For  this  perveraness  in  the  mind  ? 
Brutes  find  out  where  their  talents  lie  : 
A  ^or  will  not  attempt  to  fly  ; 
A  founder'd  kone  will  oft  debate, 
Before  he  tries  a  five  banr'd  gate  ; 
A  dog  by  instinct  turns  aside. 
Who  sees  the  ditch  too  deep  and  wide. 
But  man  we  find  the  only  creature 
Who,  led  hyfoUjf,  combats  nature ; 
Who,  when  ske  loudly  pnm,  forbear, 
With  obstinacy  fixes  there ; 
And,  where  his  genius  least  hidines. 
Absurdly  bends  his  whole  designs. 

Not  entire  to  the  rising  Son 
By  valour,  conduct,  fortune  wen  ; 
Not  highest  witdom  in  debates 
For  framing  laws  to  govern  statea  ; 
Not  skill  in  scienoes  profound. 
So  large  to  grasp  the  circle  round  J 
Such  heavenly  influence  require. 
As  how  to  strike  the  Mut^t  fyre. 

Not  beggar's  brat  on  bulk  begot ; 
Not  bastard  of  a  pedlar  Scot ; 
Not  boy  brought  up  to  cleaning  sboes. 
The  spawn  of  Bridewell  or  the  stews ;    * 
Not  infants  dropt,  the  sporioos  pledg« 
Of  giptiet  littenng  under  hedges  ; 
Are  M>  dtsqualify'd  by  fate 
To  rise  in  church,  or  taw,  or  tiate. 
As  he  whom  Phcebus  in  his  ire 
Hath  blasted  with  poetic  Hit, 

What  hope  of  custom  in  the /rift 
l^liile  not  a  soul  demands  your  ware  I 
Where  you  have  nothing  to  prodnca 
For  private  lifo,  or  public  use  ? 
Court,  eihf,  cottnhy,  want  yon  not; 
You  cannot  bribe,  betray,  or  plot. 
For  poets,  law  makes  no prorisioa; 
The  wealthy  have  you  in  derision : 
Of  state  affiiirs  you  oanoot  smatter  ; 
Are  awkward  when  you  try  to  flatter : 
Your  portion,  taking  Britain  round. 
Was  just  one  annual  hundred  poond  ; 
Now  not  so  much  as  in  remainder. 
Since  Cibber  brought  in  an  attainder  ; 
For  ever  flx'd  by -right  divine 
(A  monarch's  right)  on  Orub-street  line. 

Poor  starveling  bard,  how  small  thy 
How  uopropoitioo'd  to  thy  pains ! 
And  here  a  timiie  comes  pit  in : 
Though  chickens  take  a  month  to  Mbea, 
The  guests  m  less  than  half  an  boor 
Will  more  than  half  a  score  devour. 
So,  after  toiling  twenty  days 
To  earn  a  stock  of  pence  imd  praise. 
Thy  labours,  grown  the  critic's  prey* 
Are  swallow'd  o'er  a  dish  of  tea ; 
Gone  to  be  never  heard  of  more. 
Gone  where  the  chhkent  went  bcHRore. 

How  shall  a  new  attempter  learn 
Of  different  spirits  to  discern. 
And  how  distinguish  which  is  whidi. 
The  poefa  vaip,  or  scribbhag  itcb^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


«15 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Then  bear  im  old  capeneiie*d  ^laaar 
losmictiDg  thus  a  yousg  beginner. 

Consult  yourself;  and  if  you  find 
A  powerful  impulse  ur^e  your  mind. 
Impartial  judge  within  your  breast 
What  subject  you  can  manage  best  | 
Whether  your  genius  most  inclmes 
To  satire,  praise,  or  humorons  linet. 
To  elegies  in  mournful  tone, 
Orprologue  sent  inoa  hand  unknown^ 
Then,  rising  with  Aurora's  light. 
The  Muse  in^ok'd,  sit  down  to  wiita  ; 
Blot  out,  correct,  insert,  reftne, 
,£nlarge,  diminish,  interline ; 
Be  mindful,  when  invention  Cuts, 
To  scratch  yonr  head,  and  bite  yoor  i 
Your  poem  fiaiah'd,  next  your  care 
Is  needful  to  transcribe  it  fair. 
In  modem  wit  all  printed  trash  it 
Set  off  with  numerous  breah  and  datkuH 

To  statesmen  would  yon  give  a  wipe. 
You  print  it  in  JhHc  i^n 
When  letters  are  in  rulgar  shapas, 
Tis  ten  to  one  the  wit  escapes : 
But,  i^hen  in  cafntaU  exprest. 
The  dullest  reader  smokes  the  jail  9 
th  the  perhaps  he  may  invent 
A  better  than  the  poet  meant ;. 
As  learned  commentators  view 
In  Homer  more  than  Homer  knew. 
Yoor  poem  in  ito  modidk  dress, 
6orrectly  Otted  for  the  press. 
Convey  by  penny-post  to  Lintot^ 
But  let  no  ^end  alive  look  into 't. 
If  Lintot  thinks  *twill  quit  the  cost. 
You  need  not  fear  your  labour  lost : 
And  bow  agreeably  SttrprisM 
Are  you  to  ae6  it  advertife'd ! 
The  l^wker  shows  you  one  in  print. 
As  fresh  as  farthings  from  the  mint  s 
The  product  of  your  toil  and  sweating  | 
A  bastard  of  your  own  begetting. 

Be  sure  at  Will's,  the  following  day, 
Ue  snug,  and  hear  what  critics  say  $ 
And,  if  you  find  the  general  vogue 
Pronounces  you  a  btupid  rogue. 
Damns  all  your  thoughts  as  low  and  little. 
Sit  still,  and  swallow  down  your  spittle. 
Be  silent  as  a  politician. 
Tor  talking  may  beget  suspicion : 
Or  praise  the  judgment  of  the  town^ 
And  help  yourself  to  run  it  down. 
Give  up  your  fond  paternal  pride, 
Kor  argue  on  the  weaker  side : 
Tor  poems  read  without  a  name 
We  justly  praise,  or  justly  blame  j 
And  critics  have  no  partial  views, 
Txcept  they  know  whom  they  abuse  : 
And,  since  you  ne'er  provoke  their  spite. 
Depend  upon  H  their  jodgemeut  's  right* 
But  if  you  blab,  you  are  undone : 
Consider  what  a  risk  yon  run ; 
You  lose  your  credit  all  at  onoe ; 
The  town  will  mark  3ron  hr  a  dunce; 
The  vilest  doggrel,  Grub-stieet  sends. 
Will  pass  for  yours  with  foes  and  friend*; 
And  you  must  bear  the  whole  disgrace, 
Tdl  soaie  fresh  bbckhead  takea  yoor  plac% 


Yoor  sacrct  k6|!^  your  poflili  iBfll|^ 
And  sent  in  quires  to  line  a  trunk. 
If  still  yon  l>e  disposM  to  rhyme. 
Go  try  your  hand  a  second  time. 
Again  you  fail :  yet  Safe  *s  the  word  ; 
Take  courag<e»  and  attempt  a  third* 
But  first  with  care  employ  yoor  thoogbl* 
Where  critics  marked  yoor  former  iisiuks  2 
The  trivial  turns,  the  borrow*d  wit. 
The  similes  that  nothing  fit ; 
The  cani  which  every  fool  repeats. 
Town  jests  and  coflR^-hoose  conceits  ; 
Descriptions  tedious,  flat  and  dry. 
And  introducM  the  Lord  knows  why : 
Or  where  we  find  yoor  fury  set 
Against  the  harmless  alphabet ; 
On  A*s  and  B*s  your  malice  vent. 
While  readers  wonder  whom  yon  meant ; 
A  public  or  a  private  robber, 
A  staUswuui  or  a  Sontb^sea  jo66€r| 
A  prelttU  who  no  Ood  believes  ; 
A  parliament,  or  den  of  thievea ; 
A  pick-purse  at  the  bar  or  bench  ; 
A  dutcfaeas.  or  a  snburb-wendi : 
Or  oft',  when  epithets  you  link 
In  gaping  lines  to  fill  a  chiak ; 
Like  stepping-stones  to  save  a  stride, 
In  streets  where  kennek  are  too  wide; 
Or  like  a  heel-piece,  to  support 
A  cripple  with  one  foot  too  short ; 
Or  like  a  bridge,  that  joins  a  marish 
To  moorlands  of  a  difi'erent  parish. 
So  have  I  seen  ill-coupled  hounds 
Drag  different  ways  in  miry  groonds. 
So  geographers  in  Afric  maps 
With  savage  pictures  fill  their  gapt^ 
And  o*er  unhabitable  downs 
Place  elephants  for  want  of  towns. 

But,  though  you  mies  your  third  eifaj^ 
You  need  not  throw  your  pen  away. 
Lay  now  iiside  all  thoughts  of  fame. 
To  spring  more  profitable  game. 
From  party-merit  seek  support; 
The  vilest  verse  thrives  best  at  court 
A  pamphlet  in  sir  Bpb^s  defence 
Will  never  fail  to  bring  in  pence : 
Nor  be  concerned  about  the  sale. 
He  pays  his  workmen  on  the  naiU 

A  prince,  the  moment  he  is  crown'di 
Inherits  every  virtue  round. 
As  emblems  of  the  sovereign  power. 
Like  other  baubles  in  the  Tower ; 
Is  generous,  valiant,  just,  and  wisc^ 
And  so  continues  till  be  dies : 
His  humble  ienate  this  professes, 
In  all  thdr  speeches,  votes,  addreu€t»_ 
But  once  you  fix  him  in  a  tomb. 
His  virtues  fode,  his  vices  Uoom ; 
And  each  perfection  wrong  imputed. 
Is  fully  at  his  death  confuted. 
The  loads  of  poems  in  his  praiM, 
Ascending,  make  one  funeral  blaze : 
As  soon  as  you  can  hear  bis  kDaU, 
Thn  god  on  Earth  turns  devil  in  Hall  s 
Audio!  his  ministers  of  state, 
Transformed  to  imps,  his  1«ree  wah; 
Where,  hi  the  scenes  of  endless  won 
lliey  ply  their  former  avta  bakMr  | 


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ON  POETRY. 


519 


jkhfl,  as  they  nil  in  Chamn's  boat. 
Contrive  to  bribe  the  judge's  vote ; 
'J'o  Cerberus  they  give  a  sop, 
His  triple-barking  mouth  to  stop  ; 
Or  in  the  ivory  yate  of  dreams 
Project  excise  and  Soutli-sea  schemes ; 
Or  hire  the  party-pamphleteers 
To  set  Uysiam  by  the  ears. 

Then,  poety  if  you  mean  to  thrive. 
Employ  your  Muse. on  kings  ahve; 
With  prudence  gathering  up  a  cluster 
Of  all  the  virtues  you  can  nwBter, 
Which,  formM  into  a  garland  sweet, 
Lay  humbly  at  you**  monarch's  feet ; 
"Who,  as  the  odours  reach  his  throne, 
Will  smile,  and  think  them  all  his  own  j 
For  law  aud  icorpel  both  determine 
All  virtue  s  M^e  in  royal  ermine : 
(I  mean  the  oracles  iif  both. 
Who  shall  dt:pose  it  upon  oath.) 
Yoar  garland  in  the  following?  reign. 
Change  but  the  names,  will  do  again. 

But,  if  you  think  this  trade  too  base, 
(Which  seldom  is  the  dunce's  case) 
Put  on  the  critic's  brow,  and  sit 
At  Will's  the  puny  judge  of  wit 
A  nod,  a  shrug,  a  scornful  smile. 
With  caution  us'd,  may- serf  e  a  while. 
Proceed  no  farther  in  your  part. 
Before  you  learn  the  terms  of  art; 
Por  yoa  can  never  be  too  far  gone 
In  all  our  modem  critic's  jargon  : 
Then  talk  with  more  authentic  fisce 
Of  unities  f  in  time  and  place; 
Get  scraps  of  Horace  from  your  friends. 
And  have  them  at  yonr  fingers  eodsi 
JL«am  Artstole's  rules  by  rote, 
And  at  all  hazards  boldly  quote; 
Judicious  Rymer  oft*  review. 
Wise  Dennis,  and  profound  Bossu^ 
Read  all  the  prefaces  of  Dryden, 
Por  these  our  critics  nraoh  confide  in 
(Though  merely  writ  at  first  for  fillings 
To  raise  the  volume's  price  a  shilling). 

A  forward  critic  often  dupes  us 
With  sham  quotations  peri  kupstms  ; 
And  if  we  have  not  read  Longinus, 
Will  majesterially  outshine  us. 
Then,  lest  with  Greek  he  over-run  ye. 
Procure  the  book  for  love  or  nuMiey, 
Translatad  from  Boileau's  translation,  * 
And  quote  quotation  on  quotation. 

At  Will's  you  hear  a  poem  read. 
Where  Battus,  from  the  table  head. 
Reclining  on  his  elbow-chair. 
Gives  judgement  with  decisive  air; 
To  whom  the  tribe  of  circling  wits 
As  to  an  oracle  submits. 
He  gives  directions  to  the  town. 
To  cry  it  up  or  run  it  down  ; 
Like  courtiers,  when  they  send  a  note. 
Instructing  members  how  to  vDte. 
He  seU  the  stamp  of  bad  and  good, 
Though  not  a  word  be  understood. 
Your  lesson  leam'd,  yoa  'U  be  secnrt 
Ti  get  the  name  of  connoisseur  : 
And,  when  yow  merits  once  ar€  knovo, 
Procvre  disdplet  of  your  own. 


For  poets  (yon  can  never  want  'em) 
Spread  through  Augusta  Tooobantuniy 
i^mputing  by  their  pecks  of  coals, 
Amount  to  just  nine  thousand  souls : 
These  o'er  their  proper  districts  govern. 
Of  wit  and  humour  judges  sovereign. 
In  every  street  a  Cfty>bard 
Rules,  like  an  alderman,  his  ward  ; 
His  indisputed  rights  extend 
Through  all  the  lane,  from  end  to  end ; 
The  neighbours  round  admire  his  tkrewdnets 
For  songs  of  loyalty  and  lewdness  ; 
Out-done  by  none  in  rhymmg  well, 
Althou^  he  never  leam'd  to  spell. 

Two  bordering  wits  c<intend  for  gkiiy  ; 
And  one  is  Whig,  and  one  is  Tory  : 
And  this  for  epics,  claims  the  bays. 
And  that  for  elegiac  lays : 
Some  font'd  for  numbers  soft  and  smooth^ 
By  lovers  spoke  in  Punch's  booth  ? 
And  some  as  justly  fame  extols 
For  lofty  line^  in  Smitbfield  drolls. 
Baviu9  in  Wapping  gains  renown, 
And  Maevius  reigns  o  er  Kenti^-town : 
Tigellius,  plac'd  in  Pbeelius'  car, 
From  Ludgate  shines  to  Temple^lMr : 
Harmonious  Cibber  entertains 
The  court  with  annual  birth-day  stnuns  { 
Whence  Gay  was  banish'd  in  disgrace  ; 
Where  Pope  will  never  show  his  foce ; 
Where  Young  mus^  torture  his  invontios 
To  flatter  knaves,  or  lose  his  pension. 

But  these  are  not  a  thousandth  part 
Of  jobbers  in  the  poet's  art. 
Attending  each  his  proper  station. 
And  all  in  due  subordination, 
Through  every  alley  to  be  found. 
In  garrets  high,  or  under  ground  ; 
And  when  they  join  their  ferieraniet. 
Out  skips  a  book  qf  misceUames. 
Hobbes  clearly  proves  that  every  creatnrt 
Lives  in  a  state  of  war  by  nature. 
The  greater  for  the  smallest  watch,        ' 
But  meddle  seldom  with  their  match. 
A  whale  of  moderate  size  will  draw 
A  shoal  of  herrings  down  his  maw; 
A  fox  with  geese  bis  belly  crams  ; 
A  wolf  destroys  a  thousand  Iambs : 
But  search  among  the  rhymmg  race. 
The  brave  are  worry'd  by  the  base. 
If  on  Parnassus'  top  you  ait, 
You  rarely  bite,  are  always  bit. 
Each  poet  of  inferior  size 
On  you  shall  rail  and  criticise. 
And  strive  to  tear  yoa  linb  from  limb  ( 
While  others  do  as  moctt^for  him. 

The  vermin  only  tease^and  pinch 
Their  foes  superior  by  an*incfa. 
So,  naturalists  observe,  a  flea 
Hath  smaller  fleas  that  on  him  prey  | 
And  these  have  smaller  still  to  bite  *ma. 
And  so  proceed  ad  infinitum* 
Thus  every  poet  in  his  kind 
Is  bit  by  him  that  comes  behind : 
Who,  thou^  too  little  to  be  seen, 
Can  tease,  and  gall,  and  give  the  splaai^ 
Call  dances  foob  and  sous  ef  wliores, 
lay  Qrub-fltreet  at  fltoh  oUni^  dooitf 


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520 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Extol  the  GredL  and  Roman  masters. 
And  curse  our  modern  poetasters; 
Complain,  as  many  an  ancient  bsurd  did, 
How  genius  is  no  more  rewarded ; 
How  wrong  a  taste  prevails  among  us ; 
How  much  our  ancestors  outsung  us  ; 
Can  personate  an  awkward  scorn 
For  those  who  are  not  poets  bom  ; 
And  all  their  brother-dunces  lash. 
Who  crowd  the  press  with  hourly  trash. 

O  Orub>8treet  I  how  do  I  bemoan  thee. 
Whose  graceless  children  scorn  to  own  thee ! 
Their  filial  piety  forgot, 
Ben jr  their  country,  like  a  Scot  j 
Though,  by  their  idiom  and  grimace. 
They  soon  betray  their  natiye  place. 
Yet  thou  hast  greater  cause  to  be 
Asham'd  of  than,  than  they  of  thee. 
Degenerate  from  their  ancient  brood. 
Since  first  the  court  allow*d  them  food. 

Remains  a  difficulty  still, 
Topurchase  fame  by  writing  ill. 
From  Flecknoe  down  to  Howard's  time. 
How  few  have  reached  the  iotc  sublime  I 
For  when  our  high-bom  Howard  dy'd, 
Blackmore  alone  his  place  supply'd : 
And,  lest  a  chasm  should  intervene. 
When  death  had  finish^  Blackmore's  reign. 
The  leaden  crown  devolved  to  thee. 
Great  poet  of  the  hoUov  tree. 
But  ah  !  how  unsecure  thy  throne ! 
A  thousand  bards  thy  right  disown : 
They  plot  to  turn,  in  fectious  zeal,* 
Duncenia  to  a  common  weal ; 
And  with  rebellious  arms  pretend 
An  equal  privilege  to  descend. 

In  bulk  there  are  not  moredegreea 
Fhym  elephants  to  miles  in  cheese. 
Than  what  a  curious  ^ye  may  trace 
In  creatures  of  the  rhyming  race. 
From  bad  to  worse,  and  worse,  they  fidi  j 
But  who  can  reach  the  worst  of  all  ? 
For  though,  in  nature,  depth  and  height 
Are  equally  held  infinite; 
In  poetry,  the  height  we  know ; 
*Tis  only  infinite  below. 
For  mstance  :  when  you  rashly  think. 
No  rhymer  can  like  Welsted  wok. 
His  merits  balanced,  you  shall  find 
The  laureat  leaves  him  f^i  behind. 
Concannen ,  more  aspiring  bard, 
6oani  downwards  deeper  by  a  yard. 
Smart  Jemmy  Moor  with  vigour  drops : 
The  rest  pursue  as  thick  as  hops. 
With  heads  to  points  the  gulpb  they  enter, 
linked  perpendicular  to  the  centre ; 
And,  as  their  heels  ^ted  rise. 
Their  heads  aUempt  the  ilether  skies. 

Gh^  what  indignity  and  shame. 
To  prostitute  the  Muse's  name !  \ 

By  flattering  kings,  whom  Heaven  designed 
1^  plagues  and  scourges  of  mankind; 
Bred  up  in  ignorance  and  sloth. 
And  every  vice  that  nurses  both. 

Fair  Britain,  in  thy  monarch  blest. 
Whose  virtues  bear  the  strictest  test ; 
Whom  never  fectkm  could  bespatter, 
Vor  Biioster  apr  poet  flatter  ; 


What  justice  fai  revardiog  merit ! 
What  magnanimity  of  ^hrit  \ 
What  lineaments  divine  we  trace 
Through  all  his  figure,  m^ik*  and  bee  I 
Though  peace  with  olive  bind  his  handf. 
Confessed  the  conquering  hero  stands. 
Hydaspes,  Indus,  and  the  Ganges, 
Dread  from  his  band  impending  chanfct. 
From  him  the  Tartar  and  Chinese, 
Short  by  the  knees,  entreat  for  peace. 
The  consort  of  his  throne  and  bed, 
A  perfiBCt  goddess  bora  and  bred, 
Appointed  sovereign  judge  to  sit 
On  learning,  eloquence,  and  wit* 
Our  eldest  hope,  divine  Iiilu«, 
(Late,  very  late,  oh  may  he  rule  us  1) 
What  early  manhood  has  he  shown. 
Before  his  down^  beard  Was  grown ! 
Then  think,  what  wonders  will  be  done^ 
By  going  on  as  he  begun. 
An  heir  for  Britain  to  secure 
As  long  as  Sun  and  Mooo  endure. 

The  remnant  of  the  roftX  blood 
Comes  pouring  on  me  like  a  flood  : 
Bright  goddesses,  in  number  five ; 
Duke  William,  sweetest  prince  alive. 
Now  sing  the  minister  qf  state. 
Who  shines  alone  without  a.  mate. 
Observe  with  what  majestic  port 
This  Atlas  stands  to  prop  the  court  i 
Intent  the  public  debts  to  pay, 
like  prudent  Fabius,  by  delay. 
Thou  great  vicegerent  of  the  king. 
Thy  praises  every  Muse  shall  sing  ! 
In  all  a&in  thou  sole  dbector. 
Of  wit  and  learning  chief  protector  ; 
Though  small  the  time  thou  hast  to  q^re. 
The  church  is  thy  peculiar  care. 
Of  pious  prelates  what  a  stock 
You  choose,  to  rale  the  sable  flock  1 
You  raise  the  honour  of  the  peerage. 
Proud  to  attend  you  at  the  steerage. 
You  dignify  the  noble  race. 
Content  yourself  with  humbler  place» 
Now  learning,  valour,  virtue,  sense. 
To  titles  give  the  sole  pretence. 
St  (7eorge  beheM  thee  with  delight 
Vouchsafe  to  be  an  azure  knight,' 
When  on  thy  breasts  and  sides  Herculean 
He  fix'd  the  star  and  string  cerulean. 

Say,  poet,  in  what  other  nation 
Sfaotae  ever  such  a  constellation  I 
Attend,  ye  Popes,  and  Youngs,  and  Gays, 
And  tune  your  harps,  and  straw  your  bays': 
Your  panegyrics  here  provide ; 
You  cannot  err  on  flattery's  side. 
Above  the  stars  exalt  your  style. 
You  still  are  low  ten  thousand  mile. 
On  Lewis  all  his  bards  bestowed 
Of  incense  many  a  thousand  load  ; 
But  Europe  mortify*d  his  pride. 
And  swore  the  fownmg  rasoab  ly'd. 
Yet  what  the  world  refused  to  Lewis, 
Apply'd  to  GeOTge,  exactly  true  is. 
Exactly  true  I  invidjens  poet ! 
*Tis  fifi^  thousand  times  below  it 

Translate  me  now  some  lines,  if  yon  can. 
From  Virgil,  Martiali  Ovid,  Lucan. 


Digitized  by  CjOOQIC 


HORACE,  BOOK  IV.  ODE  XIX. 


sm 


Ihej  eoold  all  povtr  in  Hasfoi  difidd, 
Aad  do  no  wrong  oo  either  fide ; 
They  teach  you  how  to  aplit  a  hair, 
Orre  Georfe  aad  Jore  an  equal  diare. 
Yet  idiy  ihoiild  we  be  lacM  to  abait  ? 
I  f  U  gnre  my  monareh  butter-weight. 
And  raaaon  good ;  lor  nM|iy  a  year 
Jore  never  inlenneddled  nve : 
Nor,  though  his  prieitt  be  duly  paid, 
Did  ever  we  dedre  hii  aid : 
We  now  can  better  do  without  him, 
flSfloe  Woolaton  gave  as  arms  to  rout  him. 


HORACE,  BOOK  IT.  ODE  XIX. 


TO  HUBfPHRY  FRENCH,  BSQ  K  IT33. 

pATiov  of  tfae  tonefhl  throng. 

Oh !  too  nice,  and  too  severe  I 
Think  not  that  my  emtntrtf  song 

Shall  displease  thy  honest  ear. 
Chosen  strains  I  proudly  bring; 

Which  the  Muse's  sacred  choir. 
When  they  gods  and  heroes  sing. 

Dictate  to  th*  harmonious  lyre. 
Indent  Homer,  princely  bard  f 

Just  precedence  still  maintains; 
With  sacred  rapture  still  are  hcaid 

Theban  Pindar's  lofty  strains. 
Still  the  old  triumphant  song. 

Which,  when  hated  tyrants  fell. 
Great  Alcseus  boldly  sung. 

Warns,  instructs,  and  pleases  welL 
Nor  has  Time*8  all-darkening  shade 

In  obscure  oblivion  press'd 
What  Anacreon  laogb'd  and  pky'd ; 

Gay  Anacreon,  drunken  pnest  I 
Gentle  Sappho,  k>ve-sick  Muse, 

Wanns  the  heart  with  amorous  fire  ; 
Still  her  tenderest  notes  infuse 

Melting  rapture,  soft  desire. 
Beauteous  Helen,  young  and  gay. 

By  a  painted  fopling  won. 
Went  not  first,  fiur  njrmpb,  astray, 

Fondly  pleas'd  to  be  undone.   • 
Nor  young  Teooer's  slaughtering  bow. 

Nor  bold  Hector's  dreadful  sword. 
Alone  the  terrours  of  the  foe, 

Sow'd  the  field  with  hostile  blood. 
Bfany  valiant  chiefe  of  old 

Greatly  liv'd  and  died,  before 
Agamemnon,  Grecian  bold, 

Wag*d  the  ten  years'  fiunous  war. 
But  their  names,  unsung,  unwept. 

Unrecorded,  lost  and  gone. 
Long  in  endless  night  have  slept. 

And  shall  now  no  more  be  known. 
Virtue,  which  the  poet's  care 

Has  not  well  consigned  to  fiune, 
lies,  as  in  the  sepulchre 

Some  old  Idng  without  a  name. 

>  Lord-mayor  of  Dublin.    N. 


^But,  O  Humphry,  great  and  free. 

While  my  tumtful  songs  are  read, 
Okl  forgetful  Tune  on  thee 

Dark  oblivkNi  ne'er  shall  Mptead, 
When  the  deep-cut  notes  shall  foda 

On  the  mouldering  Parian  stone. 
On  the  brass  no  more  be  read 

The  perishing  inscription  ; 
Fomlten  all  the  enemies. 

Envious  0        n's  cursed  spite^ 
And  P— »l'i  derogating  lies. 

Lost  and  sunk  in  Stygian  night; 
Still  thy  labour  and  thy  care. 

What  for  Dublin  thou  hast  done. 
In  full  lustre  shall  appear. 

And  outshine  th'  undouded  Snn. 
Large  thy  mhid,  and  not  untried. 

For  Hibemia  now  doth  stand ; 
Through  the  calm,  or  raging  tide. 

Safe  conducts  the  ship  to  land. 
Falsely  we  call  the  rich  man  great  j 

He  is  only  so  that  knows 
His  plentiful  or  small  estate 

Wisely  to  eqgoy  and  use. 
He,  in  wealth  or  poverty. 

Fortune's  power  alike  defies  ; 
And  folsehood  and  dishonesty 

More  than  death  abhors  uid  flies: 

Flies  firom  death !— No,  meets  it  brave, 

When  the  suflfering  so  severe 
BCay  from  dreadful  bondage  save 

Oients,  friends,  or  country  deur. 
This  the  sovereign  man,  c^)mplete  ; 

Hero;  patriot;  glorioQs;  free; 
Rich  and  wise ;  and  good  and  great^ 

Generous  Humphry,  thou  art  He. 


A  NEW  SIMILE  FOR  THE  LADIEM. 

BY  DR.  SHERIDAN.     1733* 

To  make  a  writer  mils  his  eited. 
You  've  nothing  else  to  do  but  mend* 

I  OFTEfc  try'd  in  vain  to  find 

A  iimile  for  woman-kind, 

A  timUe  I  mean  to  fit  *em. 

In  every  circumstance  to  hit  *em. 

Through  every  beast  and  bird  I  went, 

I  ransack'd  every  element ; 

And  after  peeping  th^gh  all  nature. 

To  find  so  whimsical  a  creature, 

A  cloud  presented  to  my  view. 

And  strait  this  parallel  I  drew 

Cloud*  turn  with  every  wind  about; 
They  keep  us  in  suspence  and  doubt ; 
Yet  oft  perverse,  like  wo^ian-kind. 
Are  seen  to  scud  against  the  wind : 
And  are  not  women  just  the  same  } 
For,  who  can  tell  at  what  they  aim  \ 

Clouds  keep  the  stoutest  mortals  under. 
When  bellowing  they  discharge  their  thunder : 
So  when  tb'  alarum-bell  n  rung 
Of  Xanti's  everlasting  tongue. 
The  husband  dreads  its  loudness  more 
Than  lightning's  flash,  or  thuader*s  roar. 


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m 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Chudi  weep,  ag  tliey  do^  wfthont  pMi; 
And  what  are  tears  bat  women's  ram  } 

The  cloudt  about  the  welkin  roam  $ 
And  ladies  never  stay  at  home. 

The  clouds  build  castles  in  the  air, 
A  thing  peculiar  to  the  fair  ^ 
For  all  the  schemes  of  ^eir  forecastmy 
Are  not  more  solid,  nor  ooore  lasting. 

A  cloud  is  light  by  turns,  and  dark  | 
Such  is  a  lady  with  her  spark : 
Kow  with  a  sudden  pouting  gloom 
She  seems  to  darken  all  the  room ; 
Again  sLe  *s  pleas'd,  his  fears  beguil'd. 
And  all  is  clear  when  she  has  smil'd. 
In  this  they  're  wondronsly  alike 
(I  hope  the  simile  will  strike)  j 
Though  in  the  darkest  dumps  you  ricw  them, 
Stay  but  a  moment,  you  'M  see  thre^gti  them. 

The  clouds  ai  e  apt  to  make  redeotio% 
And  frequently  produce  infection  j 
So  Cselia,  with  snuUl  prorocalion, 
Blasts  every  neighbour's  reputation* 

The  clouds  delight  in  gaudy  show 
(For  they,  like  ladies,  have  their  bow)  } 
The  gravest  matron  will  c<  niesa, 
Tbat  she  herself  is  fond  of  dress. 

Observe  the  clouds  in  pomp  array'd^ 
What  various  colours  are  display *d  ; 
The  pink,  the  rose,  the  violet's  dye, 
In  that  great  drawing-room  the  tky  ; 
HoW  do  these  differ  firom  our  graces. 
In  garden  silks,  brocades,  and  laces  ? 
Are  they  not  such  another  sight, 
Wien  met  upon  a  birth-day  ni|^  ? 

The  clouds  delight  to  change  their  faabion : 
{Dear  ladies,  be  not  in  a  passion !) 
JKor  let  this  whim  to  you  seem  strai^ie^ 
"Who  every  hour  delight  in  change* 

In  tiiem  and  you.a1ike  are  seen 
The  sullen  symptoms  of  the  spleen ; 
The  moment  thai  your  vapours  rise, 
We  fee  them  dropping  from  your  eyet. 

In  evening  fair  you  may  behold 
The  r/!oue2f'are  fring'd  with  borrow*d  goM| 
And  this  is  many  a  lady's  case. 
Who  flaunts  about  in  borrowed  lace. 

Grave  matrons  are  like  cloudt  of  snow. 
Their  words  fall  thick,  and  flOft,  and  slow  • 
While  brisk  coquettes,  like  rattling  hail. 
Our  ears  on  every  side  assail. 

CloudSy  when  tbey  intercept  our  sights 
Deprive  us  of  celestial  light : 
So  when  my  Chloe  I  pursue, 
Ko  Heaven  bei»ides  I  have  in  view. 

Thus,  on  comparison,  you  see. 
In  every  instance  tbey  agree. 
So  like,  so  very  much  the  same. 
That  one  may  go  by  t'  other's  i 
het  me  proclaim  it  then  aloud, 
Tliat  every  woman  is  a  cloud. 


AVStVEIL  BY  Dk.  8W1FT. 

Jaisimrroous  Bard !  how  coiiid  yon  daie 
A  woman  with  a  cUmd  compare  ? 
Strange  pride  and  insolence  yon  sbow 
Merior  mortals  thtrt  below. 


And  is  our  tiMMler  in  yovr  eatv 
So  frequent  or  so  loud  as  theirs; 
Alas  !  our  thunder  soon  goesxmt  t 
And  only  makes  y^u  more  de^-out. 
Then  is  not  femaie  daftter  woiae. 
That  drives  yoa  not  to  prsnf^  but  curse  f 

We  hardly  tlim>der  tlirice  a  year  j 
The  bolt  discharged,  tibe  sky  grows  clear  8 
But  every  sublunary  do»4y. 
The  more  she  scolds,  the  more  she  "s  ^Makf* 

Some  critic,  may  object,  perhaps. 
That  clvnd*  are  blam'd  for  gtring  claps  | 
But  what,  alas  !  are  claps  -ethereal, 
Coinpar'd  for  mischief  to  venereal  ? 
Can  clouds  give  buboc*,  wloers,  blotches. 
Or  from  your  noses  dig  out  notches  ? 
We  leave  the  body  sweet  and  sound  ! 
We  kill,  'tis  tnie,  but  liever  wound. 

You  know  a  cloudg  sky  bespeaks 
Fair  weather  a-hen  the  morning  breaief; 
But  women  in  a  chwly  plight 
Foretell  a  storm  to  last  till  night. 

A  cloud  in  proper  season  poors 
His  blenings  down  in  ^aicfu^sbo«eI9  ; 
But  woman  was  by  fiita  ciesif  n'd 
To  poor  down  curses  on  mankind. 

When  Sirius  o'er  the  welkin  rage% 
Our  kindly  help  his  fire  assuages  ^ 
But  woman  is  a  curst  inflamer. 
No  parish  ducking-stool  can  tame  her : 
To  kindle  strife,  dame  Nature  taught  her  ; 
Like  fire-works,  she  can  bum  hi  water. 

For  fickleness  how  durst  you  blame  us. 
Who  for  our  constancy  are  famous  } 
You  '11  see  a  cloud  in  geatle  weather 
Keep  the  same  face  an  hour  to^Uher  5 
While  women,  if  it  could  be  reckon'd. 
Change  every  feature  every  second. 

Observe  our  figure  in  a  morning. 
Of  fMil  or  fair  we  give  you  warning  ; 
But  can  you  guess  firom  woman's  air 
One  minute,  whether  foul  or  fair  ? 

Go  read  in  ancient  books  enroU'd 
What  honours  we  possess'd  of  oM. 

To  disappoint  Ixion*s  rape, 
Jove  drast  a  cUmi  in  Juoo*s  shape  ; 
Which  when  he  had  enjoy'd,  he  swore. 
No  goddess  could  have  pleas'd  htm  more^ 
No  difference  could  he  find  between 
His  cloud  and  Jove's  imperial  queen : 
His  cloud  produc'd  a  race  of  Centaurs, 
Fam'd  for  a^thousand  bold  advtetnres  ; 
From  us  descended  ab  origine. 
By  learned  authors  call'd  nubigenet. 
But  say,  what  earthly  nymph  do  yon  know. 
So  beautiful  to  pass  for  Juno  ? 

Before  JEoeas  durst  aspire 
To  court  her  majesty  of  Tyre, 
tfis  mother  begg'd  of  us  to  dress  him, 
lliat  Dido  might  the  more  caress  him  t 
A  coat  we  gave  him,  djr'd  in  grain, 
KJiaxen  wig  and  clwtded  cane 
(The  wig  was  powder'd  round  with  slee^ 
Which  fell  in  clouds  beneath  his  ffeet). 
With  which  he  made  a  tearing  show  | 
And  Dido  quickly  smoked  ike  ieatu 

Among  your  females  make  inqnirits. 
What  nymph  on  Earth  so  iUr  as  Iria^ 
With  heavenly  beauty  so  endow'df 
And  yet  her  &tber  ii  a  cAned 


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A  SIMILE  FOR  THE  LADIES. 


in 


We  dresi  her  in  m  gold  brocade. 
Befitting  Juno's  farourite  maid. 

Tis  known,  that  Socrates  th«  wise 
Ador'd  us  clouds  as  deitieti 
To  us  lie  made  his  daily  prayers. 
As  Aristophanes  declares ; 
From  Jupiter  took  all  dominion, 
And  dy'd  defending  his  opioioQ. 
By  bis  authority  'tis  plain 
You  worship  other  gods  in  vain, 
And  from  yonr  own  experience  know 
We  govern  all  things  there  below. 
You  follow  where  we  please  to  guide; 
0*er  all  your  passions  we  preside. 
Can  raise  them  up,  or  sink  them  down. 
As  we  think  fit  to  smile  or  frown : 
And,  just  as  we  dispose  your  brain. 
Are  witty,  dull,  rejoice,  complain. 

Compare  us  then  to  female  race  ! 
We,  to  whom  all  the  gods  give  place ! 
Who  better  challenge  your  allegiance^ 
Because  we  dwell  in  higher  regions ! 
You  find  the  gods  in  Homer  dwell 
In  seas  and  streams,  or  low  as  Hell : 
Ev'n  Jove,  and  Mercury  bis  pimp. 
No  higher  climb  than  mount  Olymp 
(Who  makes,  ygu  think,  Ibe  cioudi  he  pierces  ? 
He  pierce  the  dends!  he  kiss  their  a— es)  | 
While  we,  o'er  Teneriffs  placed. 
Are  k)flier  bv  a  mile  at  least : 
And,  when  Apollo  stmts  on  Pindus, 
We  see  him  from  our  kitchen-windows ; 
Or,  to  Parnassus  looking  down. 
Can  piss  upon  his  laurel  crown. 

Fate  never  formed  the  gods  to  fly ; 
In  vehicles  they  mount  the  sky : 
When  Jove  wonkl  aome  fair  nymph  inveigle. 
He  comes  full  gallop  on  his  eagle. 
Though  Venus  be  as  light  as  air. 
She  must  have  doves  to  draw  her  chair. 
Apollo  stirs  not  out  of  door 
Without  his  lacker'd  coach  and  four. 
And  jealous  Juno,  ever  snarling^ 
la  drawn  by  peacocks  in  her  berlin. 
But  we  can  fly  where'er  we  please. 
O'er  cities,  rivers,  hill,  and  seas  : 
From  east  to  west  the  world  we  roam^ 
And  in  all  climates  are  at  home ; 
With  care  provide  you,  as  we  go. 
With  sun  shine,  rain,  and  liail,  or  snow. 
You,  when  it  rains,  like  fbols,  believe 
Jove  pisses  on  you  through  a  sieve : 
An  idle  tale,  'tis  no  such  matter ; 
We  only  dip  a  spunge  in  water; 
Then  squeeze  it  close  between  our  thumbs. 
And  shake  it  well,  and  dovm  it  cornea 
As  you  shall  to  your  sorrow  know. 
We  '11  watch  your  steps  wherever  you  go ; 
And,  shice  we  find  you  walk  a-foot. 
We  'II  sotmdly  souse  your  frize-surtout. 

Tis  but  by  our  peculiar  grace. 
That  Phmbui  ever  shows  bis  face  : 
For  when  we  pleaae,  we  open  wide 
Our  curtains  bine  from  side  to  sule: 
And  then  bow  sancily  be  shows  * 
His  brazen  face  and  fiery  nose; 
And  gives  himself  a  haughty  air, 
Ai  if  he  made  the  we^er  £ur ! 


Tis  sung,  wherever  ObIIa  tntAg, 
ihe  violets  ope  their  purple  heads  $ 
The  roses  bkm,  the  cowslip  springs : 
'Tb  sung ;  but  we  know  better  thinge. 
Tis  true,  a  woman  on  her  mettle 
Will  often  piss  upon  a  nettle; 
But,  though  we  own  she  makes  it  wetter. 
The  nettle  never  thrives  the  tjetter ; 
While  we,  by  soft  prolific  showers. 
Can  every  spring  produce  you  flowers. 

Your  poets,  Chloe's  beauty  heightening, 
Compare  her  radiant  eyes  to  lightning; 
And  yet  I  hope  'twill  be  allowed, 
That  lightning  comes  but  from  a  cloud. 

But  gods  like  us  have  too  much  sense 
At  poets'  fights  to  take  offence : 
Nor  can  hyperboles  demean  us ; 
Each  drab  has  been  compar'd  to  Venus. 

We  own  your  verses  are  melodious ; 
But  such  comparisons  afe  odious. 


A  VINDICATION  OF  THE  LIBEL: 

A  VEW  BALLAD,   WKITTlIf     BY  A    SaOE-BQT,    OH  A# 
ATTORNEY   WHO   WAS   FOEMBBLT  A  8BOE-BOT, 

Qui  color  ater  erat,  none  eai  oontrarins  atrow 

Wrra  singing  of  ballads,  and  crying  of  news. 

With  whitening  of  bnckles,  and  blacking  of  shoei, 

Did  Hartley  ^  set  out,  both  shoeless  and  shiitieas. 

And  moneyless  too,  but  not  very  dirtless  j 

Two  pence  be  had  gotten  by  begging,  that  *8  all ; 

One  bought  him  a  bruih,  and  one  a  tiack  4aili 

For  clouts  at  a  Iosd  be  could  not  be  much. 

The  clothes  on  hb  back  as  being  bat  such ; ' 

Thus  vamp'd  and  accoutred,  with  clouts,  ballt  and 

He  gallantly  ventur'd  his  fortune  to  posh  :    [6rtuA» 

Vespasian  ikus,  being  hupattm'd  with  dirt^ 

H'as  omerCd  to  he  Eiome's  tmperar  for  'I. 

But  as  a  wise  fidler  b  noted,  yen.  know. 

To  have  a  good  couple  of  strings  to  one  bow; 

So  Hartley  judiciously  thongbt  it  too  little, 

I'o  live  by  the  sweat  of  hb  hands  and  hb  ipittlt: 

He  finds  out  another  profession  as  6t. 

And  strait  be  becomes  a  retailer  of  wit      [newt  I 

One  day  be  cried — **  Murders,  and  songs,  mid  great 

Another  as  loudly—"  Here  blacken  your  shoes  !" 

At  Pomvile's  <  full  often  be  fed  upon  bits. 

For  winding  of  jacks  up,  and  turning  of  spits  | 

Lick*d  all  the  plates  round,  had  many  a  grubbing^ 

And  now  and  then  got  from  the  cook-«Baid  a  drubbing 

Such  bastings  efiect  upon  km  could  have  none ; 

The  dog  will  be  patient,  that 's  struck  with  a  bon«k 

Sir  Tliomas,  observing  thb  Hartley  withal 

So  expert  and  so  active  at  brushes  and  bmll. 

Was  mov'd  with  compassion,  and  ttioaght  it  a  pity 

A  youth  should  be  lost,  that  bad  been  so  witty : 

Without  more  ado,  he  vamps  up  nsy  spark. 

And  now  we  'II  suppose  him  an  eminent  cleifc ; 

Suppose  him  an  adept  in  aUMie  degrees 

Of  scribbling  cum  dath9,  and  hodung  ef  Ibit; 

1  See  the  next  poem. 

*Sir  T.   Domvile^  patentee  of  the  Hanapevr 
ofi&ce,    N. 


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iM 


SWIFTS  P0EM8. 


SoppoK  him  a  miser,  wtkonty  per  bill ; 
Suppose  him  a  courtier— *fappose  what  yoa  will-* 
Yet  would  you  beUere,  though  I  swore  by  th6  Bible, 
That  he  took  up  two  newt-hoy t  for  crymg  the  libel  f 


A  FRIENDLY  APOLOGY 
WR  A  CERTAIN  JUCTICE  OF  PEACE, 

ST   WAT  OF  DCFBNCE  OP  BAITLET  HVTCUUI801I,  ESQ. 

But  he  by  bawling  news  about, . 
And  aptly  using  brush  and  clout^ 
A  justice  of  tbe  peace  became, 
To  punish  rcgues  who  do  the  same.      Had. 
By  JABfES  BLACK-W£LL»  Operator  lor  the  feet 

I  siMo  the  man  of  courage  try*d, 
*  O'er-mn  with  ignorance  and  pride. 
Who  boldly  hunted  out  disgrace 
With  (»nker'd  mind  and  hideous  &ce  % 
The  6r8t  who  made  (let  none  deny  it) 
Tbe  libel-tendiug  rogues  be  quiet 

Tbe  hct  was  glorious,  we  must  own. 
For  Hartley  was  before  unknown. 
CoBtemn'd  I  mean  ;^-ibr  who  would  chns* 
So  vile  a  sidject  for  the  Muse  ? 
*    nVas  onoe  the  noUest  of  his  wishes 
To  fill  his  paunch  with  scraps  from  dishes, 
For  which  he  'd  parch  before  the  grate. 
Or  wind  ihejaek*t  slow-rising  majtA 
(Such  toils  as  best  his  talents  fit), 
Or  polish  <Aoef,  or  turn  the  <pt^« 
But,  unexpectedly  grown  rich  in 
'  Squire  Domvile*s  fiimily  and  kitchea. 
He  pants  to  eternize  his  name. 
And  takes  the  dirty  road  to  fisme ; 
Believes  that  persecuting  wit 
Will  prove  the  sura>t  way  to  it  { 
So,  with  a  colonel  ^  at  his  back, 
Tbe  libel  feels  his  first  attack ;. 
He  calls  it  a  seditious  paper. 
Writ  by  another  patriot  Drapier  ; 
Then  raves  and  blunders  nonsense  thicker 
Than  aldermen  o'erdiarg'd  with  liquor  ^ 
And  all  this  with  design,  no  doubt. 
To  hear  his  praise^  hawk'd  about  t 
To  send  his  name  through  every  street. 
Which  erst  he  roam'd  with  dirty  feet  | 
Well  pleas*d  to  live  to  Aiture  times. 
Though  but  in  keen  satirie  rfajrmesL 

So  Ajaz,  who,  for  aught  we  know. 
Was  justice  many  years  ago. 
And  minding  then  no  earthly  thii^. 
But  killing  libelen  of  kings ; 
Or,  if  he  wanted  work  to  do. 
To  run  a  bawling  news-boy  through ; 
Yet  he,  when  wrapp'd  up  in  a  cloud. 
Entreated  &ther  Jova  aloud, 
Only  in  light  to  show  his  fiice, 
iWigh  it  might  tend  to  his  disgrace. 

And  so  th'  Ephesian  villam  fir'd 
Tbe  temple  which  the  world  admir'd, 
Cootemmng  death,  despising  shame. 
To  gain  an  ever-odious  name.  . 

1  Colonel  Ker,  a  mere  Scotchman,  Iteatenant- 
^onel  to  lord  Harrington's  regiment  of  dragoons, 
who  made  «  news-boy  evidenoe  against  thf  printer. 
taisB  En. 


DR.  SHERIDAN'S  BALLAD 
ON  BALLYSPELLIN  >. 

Aj.L  yoa  that  would  refine  your  bb)od« 

As  pure  as  fam'd  Uewellyn, 
By  waters  clear,  come  every  year  ; 

To  drink  at  Ballyspellin. 
Though  pox  or  itch  your  skins  enrich 

With  rubies  past  the  telling. 
Twill  clear  your  skin  before  yon  *?e  beei 

A  numth  at  Ballyspellin. 
If  lady's  cheek  be  green  as  leek 

When  she  comes  from  her  dwdfing, 
llie  kindUng  rose  within  it  glows 

When  she  's  at  Ballyspellin. 
The  sooty  brown,  who  comes  from  town, 

Grows  here  as  fair  as  Helen ; 
Then  back  she  goes,  to  kill  the  beaox 

By  dint  of  Batlyspeliin. 

Our  ladies  are  as  fresh  and  fair 

As  rose,  or  bright  duokelling; 
And  Mars  might  make  a  £ur  mistake. 

Were  be  at  Ball3r8pellin. 
We  men  submit^as  they  think  fit, 
/^  And  here  is  no  rebelling : 
Tbe  reason  's  plain ;  tbe  laifiet  reign. 

They  're  queens  at  Ballyspellin. 
By  matchless  charms, 'unconqoer'd  anm^ 

They  have  tbe  way  of  quelhng 
Such  desperate  foes  as  d^  oppose 

Their  power  at  Baltyspellin. 
Cold  water  turns  to  fire  and  bums^ 

I  know  because  I  fell  in 
A  stream  which  came  from  one  bright  dama 

Who  drank  at  Ballyspellm. 
Fine  beaux  advance,  eqnipt  for  dance. 

To  bring  their  Anne  or  Nell  in 
With  so  much  grace,  I  'm  sure  no  placa 

Can  vie  with  Ballyspellin. 
No  politics,  no  subtle  tricks. 

No  man  his  country  selling : 
We  eat,  we  drink,  we  never  think 

Of  these  at  Ballyspellin. 
The  troubled  mind,  the  puiTd  with  wind, 

Do  all  come  here  pell-mell  in; 
And  they  are  sure  to  work  their  core 

By  drinking  Ballyspellin. 
Though  dropsy  fills  you  to  the  gills. 

From  chin  to  toe  though  swelling ; 
Pour  in,  pour  out,  you  cannot  doubt 

A  cure  at  Ballyspellin. 
Death  throws  no  darts  through  all  these  parts, 

No  sextons  here  are  knelling : 
Come,  judge  and  try,  you  '11  never  dt#. 

But  live  at  Ballyspellin ; 

Except  you  feel  darts  tipt  with  steel, 

Which  here  are  every  belle  in  : 
When  from  their  eyes  sweet  ruin  fliei^ 

We  die  at  BallyspeUuu 
Oood  cheer,  sweet  Ar,  much  joy,  no  care^ 
'   Yoor  sight,  your  taste,  your  smeUh:^ 

1  A  fomous  ipa  in  the  county  of  ESOeBrnft 
irhere  the  doctor  had  been  to  drink  the  witeit  wiib 
fiavouritaLadj.    N, 


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BAtLTSPEIXIN,  .  .  .  HORACE;  Book  L  Sat.  VL 


$%$ 


^oor  earty  your  touch,  tnuuported  mmslk 
Each  day  at  Bally  tpellui. 

Vnthin  this  groond  we  all  sleep  soandy 

No  noisy  dogs  a-yelling ; 
Jbccept  you  wake,  for  Cslia's  sake. 

All  night  at  Ballyspellm. 
There  all  joa  see,  hoth  he  and  she, 

No  lady  keefM  her  cell  in ; 
Bat  all  partake  the  mirth  we  make. 

Who  drink  at  Ballyspellin. 
Iffy  rhymes  are  gone ;  I  think  I  ^re  doq^ 

Unless  I  should  bring  Hell  in ; 
But  sroce  I  'm^here  to  Heaven  so  near, 

Ican'taiBaUyqpellin! 


ANSfFER. 
BY  DR.  SWIFT.  ^ 

J^ASB  you  dispute,  you  saucy  hrute^ 

And  think  there  's  no  refelling 
Xoor  scurry  Ia3r8,  and  senseless  praisa 

You  gire  to  Ballyqieliin  ? 
powe'er  you  bounce,  I  here  pronounce, 

Your  medicine  is  repelling ; 
Your  water  *s  mod,  and  sours  the  bk)od^ 

When  drunk  at  Ballyspellin. 
Those  pocky  drabs,  to  cure  their  scabs. 

You  thither  are  compelling. 
Win  back  be  sent,  worse  than  they  went 

Fhnn  nasty  Ball3r8peliin. 
Uewellyn  why  ?  As  well  may  I 

Name  honest  doctor  Pellin ; 
So  hard  sometimes  you  tug  foir  rhymes 

To  bring  m  Ballyspellio, 
No  subject  fit  to  try  your  wit. 

When  3rou  went  colonelling, 
3ut  doll  intrigues  'twixt  jades  and  teaguea 

That  met  at  Ballyspellin. 
Pur  lasses  fiur,  say  what  you  dare. 

Who  sowing  make  witH  shelling. 
At  Market>bill  more  beaux  can  kill, 

Than  yours  at  Ballyspelliiu 

Would  I  was  wbipt,  when  Sheolah  stript 

To  wash  herself  our  well  in ; 
^A  bum  so  white  ne*er  came  in  sight. 

At  paltry  B«dlyspeliin. 

Your  roawkins  there  smocks  hempen  wear, 

Of  holland  not  an  ell  in ; 
No,  not  a  rag,  whatever  yoo  brag. 

Is  found  at  Balljrspellin, 
But  Tom  will  prate  at  any  rat<, 

All  other  nymphs  expelling  ; 
Because  he  gets  a  few  grisettea 

At  lousy  Ballyspellin. 
There's  bonny  Jane,  in  yonder  lane. 

Just  o*er  against  The  Bell-inn  ; 
Where  can  you  meet  a  lass  so  sweet. 

Bound  all  your  Ballyspellin } 
Wo  hare  a  girl  deserves  an  earl ; 

She  came  from  Rnniskillin : 

>  This  answer  was  resented  by  Dr.  Sheridan, 
an  affinont  on  himialf  and  tha  lady  he  attended 


So  fur,  so  young,  no  such  axnaag 

The  bdles  at  Ballyspellin. 
How  would  you  stare  to  see  her  there, 

Tlie  foggy  mist  dispelling. 
That  clouds  the  brows  of  every  blowia 

Who  lives  at  Ballyspellin  ! 
Now  as  I  live  I  would  not  give 

A  stiver  for  a  skellin. 
To  towse  and  kiss  the  fairest  misa 

That  leaks  at  Ballyspellin. 
Whoe'er  will  raise  such  lies  as  these 

Deserves  a  good  cudgelling; 
Who  ^Isely  boasts,  of  belles  and  toash^ 

At  dirty  Ballyspellin. 
My  rhymes,  are  gone,  to  all  but  one^ 

Which  is,  our  trees  are  felling ; 
As  proper  quite  as  those  you  write. 

To  mrce  in  Ballyspellm. 


to 


HORACE,  PART  OF  BOOK  L  SAT.  VL 

rAtAPRRASSn. 

If  noisy  Tom  *  should  in  the  senate  prate, 
"  That  he  would  answer  both  for  church  aadatste; 
And,  further  to  demonstrate  his  affectioa. 
Would  take  the  kingdom  hito  his  protection;*' 
All  mortals  must  be  curious  to  enquire. 
Who  could  this  coxcomb  be,  and  wlio  bis  sira^ 
«  What !  thou,  the  spawn  of  him  »  wh.)  shamM  oar 
That  traitor,  assassin,  informer  vile !  f  islfl^ 

Though  by  the  female  side  ^  you  proudly  bring, 
To  mend  your  breed,  the  murdeiiBr  of  a  ktng^; 
What  was  thy  g^ndsire  *  but  a  mountaineer. 
Who  held  a  cabhi  for  ten  groats  a  year ; 
Whose  master  Moore  ^  preserved  him  from  the  halter. 
For  stealing  cows ;  nor  could  he  read  the  psalter  1 
Durst  thou,  uogratefttl,  from  the  senate  chaoe 
Thy  founder's  grandson  ^,  and  usurp  his  place? 
Just  Heaven !  to  see  the  dunghill  bastard  brood 
Sunrive  in  thee,  and  make  the  proverb  good  *> ! 
Then  vote  a  worthy  citizen  *  to  jail. 
In  spite  of  justice,  and  refuse  his  bail  1** 

1  Sir  Thomas  Preodergast    laisH  Eo. 

SThe  father  of  sir  Thomas  P  ■,  who  en- 

gaged in  a  plot  to  murder  king  William  III ;  but, 
to  avoid  being  hanged,  turned  informer  against  his 
associates,  for  which  hfe  waJs  rewarded  with  a  good 
estate,  and  made  a  baronet    Ibid. 

3  Cadogan's  fomily.     Irish  Ed. 

<  A  poor  thieving  cottager,  under  Mr.  Moore^ 
condemned  at  Clonmell  assizes  to  be  hanged  for 
stealmg  cows.     Ibid. 

^  The  grandfisther  of  Guy  Moore,  esq.  who  pro- 
cured him  a  pardon.    Ibid.    . 

*  Guy  Moore  was  fairiy  elected  member  of  parli». 
ment  for  Clonniell;  but  sir  Thomas,  depending. 
upon  his  interest  with  a  certain  party  then  prevail- 
ing, and  since  known  by  the  title  of  Parson-hunters, 
petitioned  the  house  against  him ;  out  of  which  ha 
was  turned,  upon  pretence  of  bribery,  whicfathe  pay- 
ing of  his  lawful  drifts  was  then  voted  to  be.     Ibid. 

f  "  Save  a  thief  from  the  gallows,  and  he  wilt 
cut  your  throat"    Ibid. 

«  Mr.  George  Faulkner.  Sta  tha  venes  In  tfw 
foUowmgpage.    N, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


ft6 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


ON  A  PMUTTEWS 


BEING  SENT  TO  NEWGATE. 

'BtmvL  we  all  were  in  our  graves 

Than  lire  in  slavery  to  slaves. 

Worse  than  the  anarchy  at  se^,  ^ 

Where  fishes  on  each  other  prey ; 

Where  every  trout  can  make  as  high  nuaU 

0*er  his  itiferiois  a$  our  tyrants, 

And  swagger  while  the  coast  is  dear  i 

3ut,  should  a  lordly  pike  appear. 

Away  you  see  the  varlet  scud, 

Or  hide  his  coward  snout  in  mud. 

Thus,  if  a  gudgeon  meet  o  roach. 

He  diare  not  venture  to  approach  | 

Yet  still  has  impudence  to  rise, 

4nd,  like  Domitian,  leap  at  flies. 


THE  DAY  OF  JUDGl^EKTU 

With  a  whirl  of  thought  oppressed, 
I  wnk  from  reverie  to  rest 
An  horrid  vision  seiz'd  lay  head, 
I  saw  the  graves  give  up  their  dead ! 
Jove,  arm'd  with  terrourf,  terrt  the  skie^ 
And  thunder  roars,  and  ligfatniog  ties  J 
Amazed,  coofus'd,  its  £a»  unknown. 
The  world  stands  tremblhig  at  his  throne  I 
While  each  pale  sinner  hung  his  head, 
Jove  nodding,  shook  the  Heaeveni,  and  saids 
«<  Offending  race  of  humaD4dad, 
By  nature,  reasda,  learnings  hlindj 
You  who,  through  ftailty,  stepp'd  a»de; 
And  you  who  never  fell,  through  pride  ; 
You  who  in  different  secsts  were  8bamm*d» 
And  come  to  wet  each  ottier  damn'd, 
(So  aome  folk  told  you,  but  they  knew 
No  more  of  Jove's  designs  than  you) ; 
—The  world's  mad  business  now  is  o'er. 
And  I  leient  theae  pranks  no  more. 
*I  to  Mich  blockheads  set  my  wit  i 
I  damn  such  fooU !— Go,  go,  yon  're  bit,"* 


VERSES  SENT  TO  THE  DEAN 
ON  HIS  BIBTH-DAY, 

WITH   fiNl'S  HOKACS,  FlWllY  BOVMD, 

BY  DH.  J.  SICAN  «. 

«-[Honoe  speak'mg] 

y  w  »▼!  read,  sir,  in  poetic  strain, 
^w  Yams  and  the  Mantuan  swam 
Have  on  my  birth-day  been  invited 
(But  I  was  forc'd  in  vene  to  write  it) 
Vpon  a  plain  repast  to  dine, 
And  taste  ny  old  Campanian  winei 
But  I,  who  all  pnnctilioa  hate, 
Tbongh  long  fiuniliar  with  the  great,. 

»  That  this  poem  is  the  genuine  productwn  of 
ttie  dean,  lord  Chesterfield  bears  ample  testimony 
In  his  Letter  to  M.  Voltwre,  Aug.  fl7,  1752.    N. 

•  Hikingcnioos  young  gentleman  wasnnfortu- 
liately  moidaed  in  Italy.    N* 


Nor  glory  in  my  icpulatlod. 

Am  come  without  an  invitadeo  \ 

And,  though  I  'm  us'd  to  neht  FalamMi 

ril  deign  for  once  to  taste  leroian  ; 

But  fearing  that  you  might  dispute 

(Haii  1  put  on  my  common  suit) 

My  breeding  and  my  politesse, 

I  visit  in  a  birth-day  dress ; 

My  coat  of  purest  Turkey  red. 

With  gold  embroidery  richly  spread ; 

To  which  I  've  sure  as  good  pretensions 

As  Irish  lords  who  sUrve  on  pensions. 

What  though  proud  minialers  of  state 

Did  at  your  anti-chamber  wait ; 

What  though  your  Oxfords  and  your  St  JoSuM 

Have  at  your  levee  paid  attendance ; 

And  Peterborough  and  great  Ormond, 

With  many  chiefe  who  now  are  dormant, 

Have  laid  aside  the  general's  staff 

And  public  tmres,  with  you  to  laugh ; 

Yet  1  some  friends  as  good  can  name. 

Nor  less  the  darTmg  sons  of  fame ; 

For  sure  my  Pollio  and  Mtecenat 

Were  as  good  sUtesmen,  Mr.  Dean,  as 

Either  your  Bolingbroke  or  Harley, 

Though  they  made  Lewis  beg  a  parley : 

And  as  for  Mordaunt,  your  lov*d  hero, 

I  '11  match  him  with  my  Drusus  Nero. 

You  Ml  boast,  perhaps,  your  favourite  Popel 

But  Vh-gil  is  as  good,  I  hope. 

I  own  indeed  I  cant  get  any 

To  equal  Hdsham  and  Delany; 

Since  Athens  brought  forth  Socrates, 

A  Grecian  isle  Hippocrates ; 

Since  Tully  livM  before  my  time. 

And  Galen  bless'd  another  clime. 
You  ni  plead  perhaps,  at  my  request. 

To  be  admitted  as  a  gupmt, 

"  Your  htjaring  's  bad !"— -But  why  such  featit 

I  speak  to  eyes,  and  not  to  ears  i 

And  for  that  reason  wisely  took 

The  form  you  see  me  in,  a  book. 

Atuck*d  biy  slow-devouring  moths. 

By  rage  of  barbarous  Huns  and  Goths  ; 

By  Bentley's  notes,  my  deadlier  foes. 

By  Creech's  rliymes  and  Dunster's  prose  ^. 

1  found  my  boasted  wit  and  fire 

In  their  rude  hands  almost  expire : 

Yet  still  they  but  in  vain  assail'd ; 

For,  had  their  violence  prevaiPd, 

And  in  a  blast  destroyed  my  fame. 

They  would  have  partly  miss'd  their  aim; 

Since  all  my  spirit  in  thy  page 

Defies  the  Vandals  of  this  age. 

Tis  yours  to  save  these  small  remains 

From  future  pedants'  muddy  brains, 

And  fix  my  long-uncertain  fate. 

You  best  know  bow— which  way  ?— TJuiiatiT*. 


ON  PSYCHE  K 

At  two  afternoon  for  our  Psyche  inquire. 
Her  tea-kettle  's  on,  and  her  smock  at  the  fire : 
So  loitering,  so  active  J  so  busy,  so  idle  5 
Which  hath  she  most  need  of,  a  spur  or  a  bndler 

»  Mil.  Sican,  a  very  ingenkros  well  bred  lady> 
mother  t9  the  author  ofthe  preceding  poem,    iV. 


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THE  DEAN  ANI>  UUKE.  ,  ,  ON  DR.  RUNDLE. 


m 


Thai  a  greyhound  -out-nms  the  whole  p»e|c  in  a 
race,  [pJace, 

Yet  would  rathef  be  han$r>d  than  heM  leave  a  warm 
She  gives  you  such  plenty,  it  puts  yon  in  pain  ; 
But  ever  with  prudence  takes  care  of  the  main,  [bit ; 
To  please  you,  «he  knows  how  to  choose  a  nice 
For  her  taste  is  almost  as  refinM  as  her  wit 
To  oblige  a  good  friend,  she  wii:  trace  every  market. 
It  would  do  your  heart  ^ood,  to  tee  how  she  will 

cark  it 
Yet  beware  of  her  arts ;  for,  k  plainly  appears. 
She  saves  half  her  victuals  by  feeding  your  eaKB. 


THE  BEAN  AND  DUKE,    1734. 

jJamcs  Brtdgss  and  the  dean  had  long  been  friends; 
James  is  beduk*d ;  of  course  their  friendship  ends: 
But  sure  the  dean  deserves  a  sharp  rebuke, 
From  knowmg  James,  to  boast  he  knows  the  duke. 
Yet,  sincb  just  Heaven  the  duke*s  ambition  mocks. 
Since  alt  he  got  by  fraud  is  lost  by  stockn. 
His  win|:s  are  clipped :  he  tries  no  more  m  vaia 
With  bands  of  fiddlers  to  extend  bis  train. 
Since  he  no  more  can  build,  and  plant,  and  revel. 
The  duke  and  dean  seem  near  upon  a  levd. 
Oh  !  wertthounotaduke,  my  good  duke  Humphry, 
From  bailifT's  claws  thou  scarce  couldst  keep  thy 

bum  free. 
A  duke  to  know  a  dean  !  go,  smooth  Ihy  crown : 
Thy  brother  (fiir  thy  betters)  wore  a  gown. 
Well,  but  a  duke  thou  art;  so  pleas'd  the  king : 
Oh  1  would  bis  majesty  but  add  a  string ! 


DR.  RUNDLE,  BISHOP  OF  DERYK 

Make  Rundle  bishop  I  fie  for  shame ! 
An  Arian  to  usurp  the  name ! 
A  bishop  in  the  isle  of  Saints  * 
How  will  his  brethren  make  complaints !   ' 
Dare  any  of  the  mitred  host 
Confer  on  him  the  Holy  Ghost ;  ^ 
In.  mother-church  to'bree^  a  variance, 
^  coupling  Orthodox  with  Arians  ? 
Yet,  were  he  Heathen,  Turk,  or  Jew, 

{t^hat  is  there  in  it  strange  or  new  ? 
6r,  let  us  hear  the  weak  pretence 
Bis  brethren  find  to  take  offence ; 
Of  whom  there  are  but  four  at  moet. 
Who  know  there  is  an  Holy  Ghost : 
The  rest,  who  boast  they  have  conferred  i^ 
Uke  Paurs  Ephesiaps,  never  heard  it ; 
And,  when  they  gave  it,  well  'tis  known. 
They  gave  what  never  was  their  owb. 

Rundle  a  bishop  1  well  he  may ;  i 

He  *s  still  a  Christian  more  than  they. 

We  know  the  sntjeci  of  their  quarreles 
The  man  has  learning,  sense,  and  moraK 

There  is  a  reason  still  mote  weighty  | 
lis  granted  he  believes  a  I>eity  ; 


iFlWoMtQtbiaieemMr«r|rl*79M>t  H, 


Has  every  circumstanoe  to  please  us^ 
Though  fools  may  doubt  his  fiftith  in  Je80«» 
But  why  should  he  with  that  be  loaded. 
Now  twenty  years  from  court  e3q>loded  f 
And  is  not  this  objection  odd 
From  rogues  who  ne'er  believed  a  God  f 
For  liberty  a  champion  stout. 
Though  not  so  gospel-ward  devout ; 
While  others,  hither  sent  to  save  us. 
Came  but  to  plunder  and  enslave  us  ^ 
Nor  evfer  own*d  a  power  divine. 
But  Mammon  in  the  Gerinaa  line. 

Say,  bow  did  Rui|dle  undermine  'enf 
Who  show'd  a  better  jus  divinum  f 
From  ancient  canons  would  not  vaiy^ 
But  thrice  refused  episcopar'u 

Our  bishop's  predecesnr.  Magus, 
/Would  offer  all  the  sands  of  Tagus, 
Or  sell  his  children,  house,  and  hiod^ 
For  that  one  gift,  to  lay-^n  hands : 
But  all  his  gold  could  not  avail 
To  have  the  Spirit  set  to  sale. 
Said  surly  Peter,  "  Magus,  pr'y  thee. 
Be  gone :  thy  money  perii^  with  thee.* 
Were  Peter  now  alive,  perhaps 
He  might  have  found  a  score  of  cbap% 
Could  he  but  make  his  gift  appear 
In  rents  three  thousand  pounds  a  yeai;. 

Some  fancy  this  promotion  odd. 
As  not  the  handy-work  of  God  ; 
Though  e'en  the  bishops  disappointed 
Must  own  it  made  by  God's  anointed^ 
And,  well  we  know,  the  conf^6  regal 
Is  more  secure  as  well  as  l^;al ; 
Because  our  lawyers  all  agree. 
That  bishoprics  are  held  in  fee. 

Dear  Baldwin  chaste,  and  witty  Cro9t% 
How  sorely  I  lament  your  loss  ! 
That  such  a  pair  of  wealthy  ninnies 
Should  slip  your  time  of  dropping  guineatf 
For,  had  you  made  the  king  yonr  debtor* 
Your  title  had  t>een  so  OMch  betteiw 


EPIGRAM. 

Frtestd  Bundle  fell,  with  grievoai  buaf^ 

Upon  his  reverential  rump. 

Poor  rump;  thou  hadst  been  better  sped, 

Hadst  thou  been  join'd  to  Boulter's  head  ; 

A  head,  so  weighty  and  profound. 

Would  needs  have  kept  thee  from  the  fsotiod* 


A  CHARACTER,  PANEGYRIC.  491^ 
DESCRIPTION 

OF  TBI 

LEGION'CLUB.    l^m. 

As  I  stroll  the  clty^  oft>  I 
See  a  buildrag  large  and  loftf^ 
Not  a  bow-shot  from  the  ooUngsj 
Half  the  globe  from  sense  and  kiwinilfs 
By  the  prudent  arohiteet, 
Plac*d  agauMt  the  chon^  direct^ 
Making  good  my  grand-dame's  jest, 
<«  ilw  tlM  ehwqb*'«*y«a  kniKw  the  rest 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


«S8 

Ten  Of,  what  the  pile  eonkainf  ? 
liany  a  head  that  holds  no  braina. 
These  demoniacs  let  me  dub 
With  the  name  of  Legkm-cluh. 
Such  atiemblies,  you  might  swear 
Meet  when  butchers  bait  a  bear ; 
Such  a  Aoise,  and  such  harangoing, 
When  a  brother  thief  is  hanging; 
Such  a  rout  and  such  a  rabble 
Run  to  hear  Jack-pndden  gabble  ; 
Such  a  crowd  their  ordure  tbrowi 
On  a  far  less  villain's  nose. 

Could  I  from  the  building's  top 
Hmt  the  rattling  thunder  drop. 
While  the  devil  upon  the  roof 
flf  the  devil  be  thunder-prooQ 
Should  with  poker  fiery  red 
Crack  the  stones,  and  melt  the  lead  ; 
Drive  them  down  on  every  scull. 
While  the  den  of  thieves  is  foil ; 
Quite  destroy  the  harpies'  nest ; 
How  might  then  our  isle  be  blest ! 
For  divines  allow,  that  God 
Sometimes  makes  the  devil  his  rod  ; 
And  the  gospel  will  inform  us. 
He  can  punish  sins  enormous. 

Yet  should  Swift  endow  the  schools, 
For  his  lunatics  and  fools, 
WHh  a  rood  or  two  of  land  ; 
I  allow  the  pile  may  stand. 
You  perhaps  wiU  ask  me,  «  Why  so  ?'* 
But  it  is  with  thb  proviso : 
Since  the  house  is  like  lo  bst. 
Let  the  royal  grant  be  pass'd, 
That  the  club  have  right  to  dwell 
Each  within  his  proper  cell. 
With  a  passage  left  to  creep  in. 
And  a  hole  above  (or  peeping. 
Let  theiA  when  they  once  get  in. 
Sell  the  nation  for  a  pin  ; 
While  they  sit-a  pieking  straws , 
Let  them  rave  at  making  laws  ; 
While  they  never  hold  their  tongue, 
Let  them  dabble  in  their  dung : 
Let  them  form  a  grand  committee, 
How  to  plague  and  starve  the  city ; 
Let  them  stare,  and  storm,  and  irowi^ 
When  they  see  a  clergy-gown; 
Let  them,  ere  they  crack  a  louse. 
Call  for  th'  orders  of  the  house ; 
Let  them  with  their  goslmg  quills, 
Scribble  senseless  heads  of  bills. 
We  may,  while  they  strain  their  throats. 
Wipe  our  a— s  with  their  votes, 

Let  sir  Tom  ^  that  rampant  ass. 
Stuff  his  guts  with  fiax  and  grass  ; 
But  before  the  priest  he  fleeces. 
Tear  the  bible  all  to  pieces : 
M  the  parsons,  Tom,  halloo,  boy. 
Worthy  ofiiNrmg  of  a  shoe-boy. 
Footman,  traitor,  vile  seducer, 
Feijur'd  rebel,  brib'd  accuser, 
Lay  thy  paltry  privilege  a^e, 
Sprung  from  papists,  and  a  regicide  | 
lUl  a^worldng  like  a  mole. 
Raise  the  dut  about  your  hole. 

Come,  assist  me,  Muse  obedient  I 
jLet  us  try  some  new  expedient ; 

«  A  privy-amQieltor,  mtnUooed  10  p.  jsy,   ^ 


SWIFTS  POEMS. 


Shift  the  toen^  for  half  an  lioiir, 
Thne  and  place  are  in  thy  power. 
Thither,  gentle  If  use,  conduct  me; 
I  shall  ask,  and  you  mstruct  me. 

See,  the  Muse  nnbait  the  gate! 
Hark,  the  monkeys,  how  they  prate  1 

All  ye  gods  who  rale  the  soul  I 
Styx,  through  Hell  whose  waters  loU  I 
Let  me  be  allow'd  to  tell. 
What  I  heard  in  yonder  HeU 

Near  the  door  an  entrance  gapes^ 
Crowded  round  with  antic  shapes. 
Poverty,  and  Orie^  and  Care, 
Causeless  Joy,  and  true  Despair  ; 
Biscord  periwigged  with  snakes. 
See  the  dreadful  strides  she  takes! 

By  this  odious  crew  beset, 
I  began  to  rage  and  fret. 
And  resolvM  to  break  their  pate^ 
Ere  we  enter'd  at  the  gates; 
Had  not  Clio  in  the  nidt 
Whispered  me,  "  Lay  down  your  stick." 
*<  What,"  said  I,   <*  is  this  the  iii4M^AoifM  >*» 
"  These*'  she  answered,  "  are  but  shadows,** 
"  Phantoms  bodiless  and  vain. 
Empty  visions  of  the  brain." 

In  the  porch  Briareus  stands. 
Shows  a  bribe  in  all  his  hands  | 
'  Briareus  the  secretary. 
But  we  mortals  call  him  Carey. 
When  the  rogues  their  country  fleeoe. 
They  may  h^  for  pence  a^pieoe. 

Clio,  who  had  been  so  wise 
To  put-on  a  fool's  disguise. 
To  bespeak  some  approbation. 
And  be  thought,  a  near  relation. 
When  she  saw  three  hundred  bratei 
All  involved  in  wild  disputes. 
Roaring  till  their  loqgs  were  speot^ 
PaiviLSOB  or  Pakliamkiit, 
Now  a  new  misfortune  feels. 
Dreading  to  be  laid  by  th'  heels. 
Never  durrt  a  Muse  before 
Enter  that  infernal  door ; 
Clio,  stifled  with  the  smell. 
Into  spleen  and  vapours  fell. 
By  the  Stygian  steams  that  flew 
From  the  dire  infectious  crew. 
Not  the  stench  of  lake  Avemns 
Could  have  more  ofiended  her  nose  ; 
Had  she  flown  but  o*er  the  top. 
She  had  felt  her  pinions  drop. 
And  by  exhalations  dire. 
Though  a  goddess,  must  expire. 
In  a  fright  she  crept  away  ; 
Bravely  I  resolv'd  to  stay. 

When  I  saw  the  keeper  finowQ, 
Tipping  him  with  half  a  crown, 
"  Now,"  said  I,  '<  we  are  alone, 
Name  your  heroes  one  by  one. 

«  Who  is  that  hell.featur*d  bfawler  { 
Is  it  Satan  >»  *'  No,  tis  Waller." 
*'  In  what  figure  can  a  bard  dress 
Jack,  the  grandson  of  snr  Hardren  ^ 
Honest  keeper,  drive  him  further. 
In  his  looks  are  hell  and  murther; 
See  the  scowlhig  viMge  drop. 
Just  as  when  he  murdered  T— pw 
Keeper,  show  me  where  to  fix 
Oatbt  pqppy  pair  of  Dickt; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


AN  APOLOGY,  4c. 


S29 


By  their  lantern  jaws  and  leathern, 
Voa  might  swear  they  both  are  brethren : 
Dick  Ftz-Baker,  Dick  the  player. 
Old  acqakintance,  are  you  there  ? 
Dear  companionSi  hug  and  kiss. 
Toast  Old  Glorious  in  your  piss : 
Tie  them,  keeper,  in  a  tether, 
I^et  them  starve  and  stink  together ; 
Both  are  apt  to  be  unruly, 
X^ash  them  daily,  lash  them  duly  ; 
Though  ^s  hopeless  to  reclaim  them, 
Scorpion  rods  perhaps  may  tame  them* 
Keeper,  yon  old  dotard  smoke^ 

Sweetly  snoring  in  his  cloak  : 
AVho  is  he  ?  Tis  humdrum  Wynne, 

Half  encofllipass'd  by  his  kin : 
There  observe  the  tribe  of  Bingham.- 

For  he  never  fails  to  bring  *era ; 

W^ile  ha  sleeps  the  wb«)le  debate. 

They  submissive  round  him  waitj 

Yet  would  gladly  see  the  hunks 

In  his  grave,  and  search  his  trunks. 

See  they  gently  twitch  his  coat. 

Just  to  yawn  and  give  his  vote. 

Always  firm  in  his  vocation. 

For  the  court  against  the  nation. 
Those  are  A — s  Jack  and  Bob^ 

First  in  every  wicked  job. 

Son  and  brother  to  a  queer 

Brain-sick  brute,  they  call  a  peer. 

We  must  give  them  better  quarter. 

For  their  ancestor  trod  mortar. 

And  H— th,  to  boast  his  fame. 

On  a  chimney  cut  his  name. 

There  sit  Clements,  D-^cs,  and  Harrison : 

How  they  swagger  from  their  garrison  ! 

Such  a  triplet  couJd  you  tell 

Where  to  find  on  this  side  Hell  ? 

Harrison,  and  D— ks,  and  Clements, 

Keeper,  see  they  have  thchr  payments  j 

En  ery  mischief 's  in  their  hearts : 

If  they  hll,  'tis  want  of  parts. 
Bless  us,  Morean  !  art  thou  there,  man  ! 

Bless  mine  eyes  I  art  thou  the  chairman ! 

Chairman  to  your  damn'd  committee ! 

Yet  I  look  on  thee  with  pity. 

Dreadful  sight!  what  I  learned  Moifaa 

Metamorphosed  to  a  Gorgon  ? 

For  thy  horrid  looks,  I  own. 

Half  convert  m^  to  a  stone. 

Hast  thou  been  so  long  at  school, 

Now  to  turn  a  factious  tool  ? 

Alma  Mater  was  thy  mother, 

Bvery  yoong  divine  thy  brother. 

Thou,  a  disobedient  varlet. 

Treat  thy  mother  like  a  harlot ! 

Thou  ungrateful  to  thy  teachers, 

Who  are  all  grown  reverend  preftchen  ! 

Morgan,  would  it  not  surprise  one  ! 

Turn  thy  nourishment  to  poison  I 

When  you  walk  among  your  books, 

'thej  reproach  you  with  their  looks  : 

Bind  them  fast,  or  from  tfaek  shelves 

They  will  come  and  right  themsehesi 

Homer,  Plutarch,  Vurgil,  Flaccos, 

All  in  arms  prepare  to  hack  US  3 ' 

Sote  repent,  (xr  pat  to  sUugfater 

Bvery  Greek  and  Roman  author. 
VouXL 


Will  you,  m  yanr  Action's  phrase. 
Send  the  clergy  aH  to  graze. 
And,  to  make  your  project  pass. 
Leave  them  not  a  blade  of  grass  ? 

How  I  want  thee,  humorous  Hogarth ! 
Thou,  I  hear,  a  pleasant  rogue  art 
Were  but  you  and  I  acquainted. 
Every  monster  should  be  painted : 
You  should  try  your  graving-toob 
On  this  odious  groupe  of  fools ; 
Draw  the  beasts  as  I  describe  them 
From  their  features,  while  I  gibe  them  ; 
Draw  them  like ;  for  I  assure  you. 
You  will  need  no  car*-calura; 
Draw  them  so,  that  we  may  trace 
All  the  soul  in  every  fiice. 

Keeper,  I  must  now  retire. 
You  have  done  what  I  desire : 
But  I  feel  my  spirits  spent 
With  the  noise,  the  sight,  the  scent. 
**  Pray  be  patient;  you  shall  find 
Half  the  best  are  still  behind  : 
You  have  hardly  seeb  a  score : 
1  can  show  two  hundred  more." 
Keeper,  I  have  seen  enough. — 
Taking  then  a  piuch  of  snu£( 
I  concluded,  looking  round  them, 
"  May  their  god,  the  devil,  confound  them !" 


AN  APOLOGY,  &;c 

A  tADT,  wise  as  well  as  fair, 

Whose  conscience  alwajrs  was  her  care. 

Thoughtful  upon  a  point  of  moment. 

Would  have  the  text  as  well  as  comment: 

So  hearing  of  a  grave  divine. 

She  sent  to  bid  him  come  and  dine. 

But  you  must  know,  he  was  not  quite 

So  grave  as  to  be  unpolite;  -, 

Thought  human  learning  would  not  lessen 

The  dignity  of  his  pcofottion  ; 

And,  if  you  M  heard  the  man  discourse. 

Or  preach,  3rou'd  like  him  scarce  the  worse. 

He  long  had  hid  the  court  farewell. 

Retreating  silent  to  his  cell; 

Suspected  for  the  love  he  bore 

To  one  who  swayM  some  time  before  ; 

Which  made  it  more  surprising  how 

He  should  be  sent  for  thither  nov. 

Tlie  message  told,  he  gapes  and  stares^ 
And  scarce  believes  his  eyes  or  eari : 
Could  not  conceive  what  it  should  metn. 
And  fiun  would  hear  it  told  agaiiL    . 
But  then  the  'squire  so  trim  and  nice, 
Twer9  rude  to  m^ke  him  teU  it  twice: 
So  bow'd,  was  thankftil  for  the  honoor  ; 
And  would  not  fiul  to  wait  upon  her. 
His  beaver  brush'd,  his  dioes,  and  gOKm, 
Away  he  trudges  mio  town ; 
Passes  the  lower  castie-yaid  ; 
And  noiw  advancing  to  &e  guard. 
He  tremUa  at  the  thoughts  of  state  | 
For,  conscious  of  his  sheepish  gait, 
His  spirits  of  a  sudden  fiul'd  hnn ; 
He  stqpt}  and  could  not  tdl  what  ail'd  him. 
Mm 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


S50 


SWIFP8  rOEMS. 


What  was  tlie  mestage  I  receivM  } 
Why  certainly  the  captain  rav'd  ! 
To  dine  witti  her  t  and  come  at  three ! 
ImpoBnble  !  it  can  't  be  me. 
Or  may  be  t  mistook  the  word; 
My  hidy — it  must  be  my  lord, 
My  lord  's  abroad:   my  lady  too : 
What  must  th'  unhappy  doctor  do  ? 
••  Is  captain  Cracherode  here,  pray  ?" — •'  No,** 
•*  Nay,  tfceii,  'tis  time  for  me  to  go." 
Am  I  awake,  or  do  I  dream  ? 
I  'm  sure  he  calPd  me  by  my  name ; 
NamM  me  as  plain  as  he  could  speak ; 
And  yet  there  must  be  some  mlstaka 
Why  what  a  je&t  should  I  have  been. 
Had  now  my  lady  bet^n  within ! 
What  could  I  Ve  said  ?  I  'm  mighty  glad 
She  went  abroad — she  *d  thought  me  mad. 
The  hour  of  dining  now  is  past : 
Well  then,  I  Ml  e*en  go  home  and  fasi ; 
And  tiace  I  'scapM  being  made  a  acolT, 
I  think  I  *m  very  fairly  oft 
My  lady  now  returning  home. 
Calls,  "  Cracherode,  is  the  doctm*  come  ?" 
He  had  not  heard  of  hiAi — "  Pray  see, 
'Tis  now  a  quarter  aft*  three." 
The  captain  walks  about,  and  searches 
Through  all  the  rooms,  and  courts,  and  arches; 
Examines  all  the  servants  round, 
In  vain-^no  doctor  *8  to  be  found. 
My  lady  could  not  chqpse  but  wonder : 
"  Captain,  I  fear  you  've  made  some  blunder : 
But  pray,  to  morrow  go  at  ten, 
I  Mi  try  his  manners  once  again ; 
If  rudeness  l>e  the  effect  Of  knowledge. 
My  son  shall  never  see  a  college." 

The  captain  was  a  man  of  reading, 
And  much  good  sense  ai  well  as  breeding, 
Who  loath  to  blame,  or  to  incense. 
Said  little  in  his  own  defence. 
Next  day  another  message  brought : 
The  docU)r,  frighten'd  at  hit  faulty 

Is  dressM  and  stealing  through  the  crowd, 
Now  pale  as  death,  then.blash*^  and  bow'd, 
Panting— and  faultering—humm*^  and  ha'd, 

**  Her  ladyship  was  gone  abroad  ; 
The  caplaJn  too— he  did  not  know 

Whether  he  ought  to  stay  or  go  | 

Bfgg*d  she'd  forgive  him.'*     in  conclusioO, 

My  lady,  pitying  his  confusion, 

CalI'd  her  good-nature  to  relieve  hlin  : 

Told  hhn,  she  thotght  she  might  believe  htm ; 

And  would  not  only  grant  his  suit, 

But  visit  him,  and  edt  some  fruit ; 

Provided,  at  a  proper  time. 

He  told  the  real  truth  In  rhylfie. 

nVat  to  no  purpoae  to  6ppbse, 

She  *d  hear  of  no  excuse  in  proae. 

The  doctor  stood  not  to  debdte/ 

Olad  to  compound  at  any  rUte : 

So  bowing,  seemingly  comply'd ; 

Though,  if  he  durst,  he  had  denyd. 

Bat  &Bt,  resolved  to  afaow  his  taste, 

Wat  too  refin'd  to  give  a  feait : 

He  'd  treat  with  nothing  that  was 'rare « 

But  whidrag  walka  and  purar  ur ; 

Would  entertain  without  exptmse^  # 

Or  pride,  or  vain  n^gtufioenoe : 


For  well  he  knew,  to  such  i  guett 

The  ]>laine8t  meals  must  he  the  belt* 

To  stomachs  clogg'd  with  costly  fore 

Simplicity  alone  is  rare ; 

Whilst  high,  and  nice,  and  curious  meats  , 

Are  really  but  vulgar  treats. 

Instead  of  spoils  of  Persian  looms. 

The  costly  boasts  of  regal  rooms, 

Thought  it  more  courtly  and  discreet 

To  scatter  roses  at  her  feet ; 

Roses  of  richest  dye,  that  shone 

With  native  lustre,  like  her  own : 

Betuty  that  needs  oo  aid  of  art 

Tbrougll  every  sense  to  reach  the  heart* 

The  grafious  daoie,  though  well  she  kneir 

AU  this  was  nuKh  beneath  her  due, 

Uk'd  flf^ry  thing — at  least  thought  fit 

To  praise  it  par  maniere  cP  acqttit. 

Yet  she,  though  seeming  pleas*d,  can*t  be« 

The  scorchmg  Sun,  or  chilling  air; 

Disturb'd  alike  at  both  extremes. 

Whether  he  shows  or  hides  the  beams : 

Though  seeming  pleas'd  at  all  the  tees, 

Starts  at  the  ruflSing  of  the  trees ; 

And  scarce  can  speak  for  want  of  breathy 

In  half  a  walk  fatigu'd  to  death. 

The  dfx^tor  takes  his  hidt  from  hence, 

T  apologize,  his  late  offence : 

"  Madam,  the  mighty  powet  of  use 

Now  strangely  pleads  in  my  excuse : 

If  you  unus  d  have  scarcely  strength 

To  gain  this  walk's  uotoward  length  { 

If,  frighten  *d  at  a  scene  so  rude, 

Through  long  disuse  of  solitude ; 

If,  long  confined  to  fires  and  screens. 

You  dread  the  waving  of-these  greens ; 

If  you,  who  long  have  breath'd  the  fomea 

Of  city-fogs  and  crowded  rooms. 

Do  now  solicitously  shun 

The  cooler  air  and  dazzling  Son ; 

If  his  miotic  eye  you  flee. 

Learn  hence  t'  excuse  and  pity  me. 

Consider  what  it  is  to  bear 

The  powder'd  courtier's  witty  sneer; 

To  see  th'  important  man  of  dress 

Scoffing  my  coUege-awkwardness  ; 

To  be  the  strutting  comet^s  sport. 

To  run  the  gauntlet  of  the  coart, 

Wmning  my  way  by  slow  approaches. 

Through  crowds  of  coxcombs  and  of  ac 

From  the  first  fierce  cOpkaded  oentry, 

Quite  through  the  tribe  of  wahing-gentfj  f 

To  pass  so  many  crowded  stages. 

And  stand  the  starii^  of  your  pages; 

And,  after  all,  to  crown  my  spleoi. 

Be  told— You  are  not  to  be  seen : 

Or,  if  you  are,  be  fbroOd  to  bear 

The  awe  of  your  mi^iestie  air« 

And  can  I  then  be  fitalty  found. 

In  dreadmg  this  vexatious  lOond  f 

Can  it  be  strange,  if  I  eschew 

A  scene  so  glorious  and  so  new; 

Or  is  he  criminal  that  Aite 

The  Indng  loslre  of  yoQir  #ir**  ^^ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


VERSES  FOR  FRUIT  WOMEN. 


S3i 


THX 


DEAN'S  MANNER  OF  LIVING. 

On  rainy  da]^  alone  I  dine 
Upon  a  chick  and  pint  of  wine. 
On  rainy  days  I  dine  alone, 
And  pick  my  chicken  to  the  bone : 
Bat  this  my  senmnts  much  enrages, 
Ko  scraps  rensiain  to  save  hoard-wages. 
In  weather  fine  I  nothing  spend. 
But  often  spunge  upon  a  friend : 
Yet,  where  he 's  not  so  rich  as  I, 
1  pay  my  chib,  and  so  good  b'  ft. 


VERSES. 

MADE  FOR  FRUIT-WOMEN,  fcc 

APPLES. 

Com  bay  ray  fine  wares. 
Plumbs,  apples,  and  pears, 
A  hundred  a  penny. 
In  conscieooe  too  many : 
•Come,  will  you  bare  any? 
My  children  are  seven, 
I  wish  them  in  Hearen ; 
My  hHsband  a  sot, 
With  his  pipe  and  his  pot. 
Not  a  &rthing  will  gain  them. 
And  1  must  maintain  them. 


'ASPARAGUa 

ItiPS  'sparagrass. 
Fit  for  lad  or  lass. 
To  make  their  water  pass : 
Oh,  'tis  pretty  picking 
With  a  tender  chicken  I 


ONIONS. 


Com,  follow  me  by  the  anwl]« 
Here  are  delicate  onkMw  tossil ; 
I  promise  to  use  you  welL 
They  make  the  Stood  wanner  i 
You'll  fiBed  like  a  fiunier:    , 
For  this  is  every  CDok^  opiBk>n» 
Vq  saroury  disb  wHkout  «o  oniwi ; 
Bat,  left  your  kiiqing  should  bespoiP^ 
Your  onions  must  be  thron^ly  bciVA : 

Or  else  you  may  qpace 

Your  mistress  a  shareg 
The  secret  will  never  be  known; 

She  cannot  discover 

The  breath  of  ^r  lover, 
Bttt  thmk  it  as  sweet  tt  her  own. 

■  II  ui.    mn 

OYSTPK* 
CliAiiuiia  oysters  I  cry : 
My  mmnin,i)omi0  biqr* 
9q  tUvnp  and  90  fkeih^ 
Safweetisttieirteh 


No  Colchester  03rster 
Is  sweeter  and  moister: 
Your  stomaeh  they  settle. 
And  rouse  up  your  mettle ; 

They  'H  make  you  a  dad 

Of  alassor  a  lad; 

And  madam  your  wife 

They  Ml  please  to  the  life  ; 
Be  she  barren,  be  she  old. 
Be  she  slut,  or  be  she  .scold. 
Eat  my  oysters,  and  lie  near  her, 
9he  '11  b0  fruitful,  never  fear  her. 


HERRINQSl 


Bx  not  sparing. 

Leave  off  swearing. 

Bqgr  my  herring 
Fresh  from  Malahide  <, 
Better  never  was  try'd. 

Come,  eat  them  with  pore  fresh  butter  smdmostai^^ 
Their  bellies  are  soft,  and  as  white  as  a  custaid. 
Come,  sixpence  a  dozen  to  get  me  some  bread. 
Or,  like  my  own  herrings,  I  sooashall  be  dead. 


ORANGBSL 

Com  buy  my  fine  oranges,  sauce  for  your  veal, 
Andcharming  wtBn  squeezed  m  a  pot  of  brown  ate| 
Well  roasted,  wHh  sugar  and  wine  in  a  cup. 
They  'U  make  a  sweet  bofaop  wliea  gentk-folks  sup. 


ON  ROVER,  A  LADY'S  SPANIEU 
INSTRUCTIONS  TO  A  PAINTER  K 

fLipnesT  of  the  spaniel-raee. 
Painter,  with  thy  cdoon  grace : 
Draw  his  forehead  large  and  high, 
DruF  his  blue  and  humid  eye  ; 
Dnsw  his  neck  so  smooth  and  round, 
little  nsck  with  ribbands  bound  ; 
ipad  the  mutely  swelling  breast 
Where  the  kves  and  graces  rest ; 
And  tbe  spreading  even  bade. 
Soft,  and  sleek,  and  gloisy  bla«jk  | 
And  the  tail  that  genUy  twines, 
like  the  tendrils  cMfthe  vines; 
And  tbe  silky  twisted  hair, 
Shadowmg  thiek  the  o#/ba|  ear  ; 
VgloH  ears,  which,  hanging  io% 
O'er  the  veiny  temples  flow. 

With  a  proper  light  and  shade. 
Let  the  windmg  hoop  be  lakl^ 
And  withm  tiiat  arofaing  bower 
fSeeret  circle,  mystic  power) 
In  adbvfiy  slumber  place 
Hapyieit  of  thefpamd-iacej 

'NearDoblm. 

s  In  ridicule  of  PliUiqpa*t  poim  on  MtwfVutnMlL 
and  written,  it  hat  been  said.  ''tonflhXitthelndTof 
vvMiHhopiQiiltiif*  if.  ■ 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


532 

While  the  soft  perq[)iring  dame. 
Glowing  with  tht  softest  flame, 
On  the  ravish'd  favourite  pours 
Balmy  devm,  ambrosial  showers  ! 
With  tby  utmost  skill  express 
Nature  in  her  richest  dress ; 
limpid  riven  steootbdy  f^omng. 
Orchards  by  those  rivers  blowing  ; 
Curling  sKood^bine,  myrtle  shade. 
And  the" gay  enameVd  mead ; 
Wliere  the  linnetas^t  and  sing. 
Little  sporUings  of  the  spring ; 
Where  the  breathing  field  and  grove 
Sooth  the  heart,  and  kindle  love : 
H^re  for  me,  and  for  the  Muse, 
Colours  of  resemblance  chuse ; 
Make  cX  lineaments  divine, 
Daply  female  spaniels  shine, 
Vretiy/nndltngs  of  the  feir. 
Gentle  damsels,  gentle  care  ; 
But  to  one  alone  impart 
All  the  flattery  of  thy  art 
Crowd  each  feature,  crowd  each  grace, 
Which  complete  the  desperate  faice; 
Let  the  spotted  wanton  daiue 
Feel  a  new  resistless  flame  ; 
Let  the  happiest  of  his  raoe 
Win  the  fair  to  hi*  emhraee. 
But  In  shade  the  rest  conceal, 
Nor  to  sight  their  jo^  roveal, 
Lest  the  pencil  and  the  Muse 
Loose  desires  and  thoughts  infuses 


SWIFTS  POEMS- 


AY  AND  NO: 
A  TALE  FROM  DUBLIN. 


1737. 


At  Dublin's  high  feast  4Kite  primate  and  dean. 
Both  dress*d  like  divines,  with  band  and  fece  clean. 
Quoth  Hugh  of  Armagh  >,  "The  mob  is  grown  bo  W." 
"  Ay,  ay,"  ^uoth  the  dean,  "  the  cause  is  old  goM." 
"  No,  no,*'  quoth  the  primate,  "  if  causes  «e  sift. 
This  mischief  arises  from  witty  dean  Swift" 
The  smart-one  replied,  *'  There 's  no  wit  in  the  C^^ 
And  nothing  of  that  ever  troubled  your  grace. 
Though  with  your  state-sieve  your  own  noUoos  you 
A  Boulter  by  name  is  no  bolter  of  wit.  [spU^ 

It  is  matter  of  weight,  and  a  mere  mooey-jobb  j 
But  the  lower  the  coin,  the  higher  the  mob. 
Go  tell  your  friend  Bob  and  the  other  great  folk. 
That  sinking  the  coin  is  a  dangerous  joke. 
The  Irish  dear -joys  have  enough  common  sense. 
To  treat  gold  reduced  lika  Wood's  copper  pence. 
It  is  pitf  a  prelate  should  die  without  law ; 
But  if  I  say  the  wpfd — take  care  of  Afmagh  I** 


DR.  SWIFT'S  ANSWER 

TO  A  feibsd's  avBsnoK. 

Ths  furniture  that  best  doth  please 
St  Patrick's  dean,  good  sir,  are  these  f 
The  knifi^  and  fork  with  which  I  eat ; 
Atd,  VISA,  the  pot  that  boils  the  meat ; 


4I)r.  Ha#ihB«aiir. 


rte  next  to  be  preferr'd,  I  think. 
Is  the  gUss  iu  which  I  drink ; 
The  shelves  on  which  my  books  I  keep; 
And  the  bed  on  which  I  sleep ; 
An  antique  elbow-chair  between. 
Big  enough  to  hold  the  dean ; 
And  the  store  that  gives  delight 
In  the  cold  bleak  wintery  night ; 
To  these  we  add  a  thing  below. 
More  for  use  reservM  than  show : 
These  are  what  the  dean  do  please; 
All  s^perfloous  are  but  these. 


APOLLO'S  EDICT  K 

IiELAMD  is  no#  our  royal  care. 

We  lately  fix'd  our  viceroy  there. 

How  near  was  she  to  be  undone. 

Til)  jMous  love  inspired  her  son ! 

What  cannot  our  vicegerent  do^ 

As  poet  and  as  patriot  too  ? 

Let  his  success  our  subjects  sway. 

Our  inspirations  to  obey, 

And  follow  where  he  leads  the  way : 

Then  study  to  correct  your  taste ; 

Nor  beaten  paths  be  longer  trac'd. 

No  simile  shall  be  begun. 
With  rising  or  with  setting  Sun  ; 
And  let  the  secret  head  of  Nile 
Be  ever  banished  from  your  isle. 

•When  wretched  lovers  live  on  air, 
[  beg  you  'U  the  camelion  spare ; 
And,  when  you  'd  make  a  hero  grander^ 
Forget  he  's  like  a  salamander. 

No  son  of  mine  shall  dare  to  say, 
Aurora  usher^d-m  the  day. 
Or  ever  name  the  milky-way* 

You  all  agree,  I  make  no  doubt, 
Elijah's  mmntle  is  worn  out. 

The  bird  of  Jove  shall  toil  no  more 
To  teach  the  humble  wren  to  soar. 
,  Your  tragic  heroes  shall  not  ran^ 
Nor  shepherds  use  poetic  cant. 
Sliiplioity  alone  can  grace 
The  manners  of  the  rural  race. 
Theocritus  and  Philips  be 
Your  guides  to  true  simplicity. 
-   When  Damon's  «ou/«iiia^<|/tett«/t|A«^ 
i  Though  Poets  have  the  secm-sighiy 
They  shall  not  see  A  trail  of  A^. 
Nor  shall  the^vapoun  upwtvrd  rtse, 
Nor  a  new  star  adorn  the  skies : 
For  who  ein  hope  to  place  one  ther^ 
As  glorious  9s  Belinda^s  kairf 
Yet;  if  his  namejrou  'd  eternize. 
And  teust  exalt  Km  to  the  skies; 
Without  a  star,  this  may  be  ^oae  : 
So  Ttckeil  mourn'd  his  Additab. 

If  Ama's  happy  reign  you  {waise. 
Fray,  not  a  word  of  Mcypa^dsyf; 
Nor  let  my  votaries  show  their  skill 
In  apiag  lines  from  Coopet^Hill ; 

'Thispoem  was  orignMlly  written  in  17d0;  the 
latter  part  of  it  was  re-pnblithed  in  1743^  enUir 
death  of  Oie  countess  of  DoovL    N. 


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EPIGRAMS. 


iSS 


For  koow^  I  caimat  heat  to  bear 
Hie  mimicry  of  deep,  yet  clear. 

Wbeae'er  my  TJi^roy  is  addresi'd. 
Against  the  pbenix  I  protest. 
When  poets  soar  in  yonthfbl  strains. 
No  Phaeton  to  bold  the  reins. 

When  you  describe  a  lovely  girl. 
No  lips  cf  coral,  teeth  cfpearL 
Capid  shall  ne'er  mistake  another. 
However  beauteous,  for  his  mother  t 
Nor  shall  his  darts  at  ran^Iom  fly 
From  magazine  in  Cslia^  eye. 
With  wonen-componnds  1  am  doy'd, 
Which  only  pieas'd  in  Biddy  Floyd. 
For  foreign  aid,  what  need  they  roam. 
Whom  Fate  has  amply  blest  at  home  ? 

Unerring  Heaven,  with  bounteous  hand. 
Has  form'd  a  model  for  your  land. 
Whom  Jove  endowed  with  every  grace; 
The  glory  of  the  Oranard  race ; 
Now  destmM  by  the  powers  divine 
Thft  Messing  of  another  line. 
Then,  would  yon  pamt  a  matchlen  dame. 
Whom  you  'd  consign  to  endless  fame  ? 
Invoke  not  Cytherea^s  aid« 
Nor  borrow  from  the  bloe-ey'd  maid ; 
Nor  need  you  on  the  Graces  call ; — 
Take  qualities  from  Donegal. 


EPIGRAM  K 


Bbbold  !  a  proof  of  Irish  sense  1 

Here  Irish  wit  is  seen  ! 
When  nothing 's  left,  that 's  worth  defenos^ 

We  baild  a  magazine. 


EPIGRAMS, 

•CCASIOVBD  BT  DR.  tWIFT's   INTENDED  BOSPITAL  FOl 
IDIOTS  AN»  LUHATICXS. 

The  dean  must  die-^our  ideots  to  maintain. 
Perish,  ye  ideots !  and  long  live  the  dean  1 


0  Gbnius  of  Jlibemia's  state, 
Soblimely  good,  severely  great  1 
How  doth  this  latest  act  maeX 

All  you  have  done  or  wrote  so  well ! 

Satire  may  be  the  Qhild  of  spite. 

And  Faiae  might  bid  the  Drapier  write : 

1  The  dean,  is  his  lunacy,  had  some  intervals  of 
•ense ;  at  which  tirrie  his  guardian^  or  physicians, 
took  bim  out  for  the  air.  On  one  of  thei»  '^ys, 
when  they  €ame  to  th^  park.  Swift  remarked  a  new 
building,  which  he  bad  never  seen^  and  askad  whft 
it  was  designed  for.  Toiwhioh  Dr.  Kingsbury  ans- 
wered, "  That,  Mr.  Dean,  is  the  magazine  for  arms 
Old  popder,  i«r  the  locurity  of  the  ^ty.**  «<  Oh ! 
oh !"  says  the  dean,  pulling  out  his  pockM-book, 
"  let  me  take  an  item  Ot  that  This  is  worth  te- 
marking:  my  tablets,  as  Hamlet  says,  my 
tablets-Hnemory^  put  dovm  that  I'a— Which  pro- 
duced the  abovtlmai^  •ai4  t»  ha  Hm  last  be  ever 

wfott,  a; 


But  to  relieve,  and  to  endoir. 
Creatures  that  know  no|  whence  or  haw§ 
Argues  a  soul  both  good  and  wise, 
Resembling  Htm  who  rules  the  skies. 
He  to  the  thoughtful  mind  displays 
Immortal  skill  ten  thousand  ways  ; 
And,  to  complete  his  glorious  task. 
Gives  what  we  have  net  sense  to  ask  I 


Lo  !  Swift  to  ideots  bequeaths  his  store : 
Be  wise,  ye  rich !— consider  thus  the  pogrj 


ON  TSB 

DEAN  OF  ST,  PATRICK'S  BIRTH-DAY^. 

N<|V.   30,   rr.  ANDRBW'S-DAY, 

Bbtwbbn  the  hours  of  twelve  and  one 
When  half  the  world  to  rest  were  gone^ 
Entranc'd  in  softest  sleep  I  lay. 
Forgetful  of  an  anxious  day  j 
From  every  care  and  labour  free^ 
My  soul  as  calm  as  it  could  be. 

The  queen  of  dreams,  well  pleas'd  to  find 
Ao  undistuirb'd  and  vacant  mind. 
With  magic  pencil  trac'd  my  brain. 
And  there  she  drewjSt  Patrick's  dean* 
1  straight  beheld  on  either  hand 
Two  saints,  like  guardian  angels,  stand* 
And  either  claimM  him  for  then:  son  ; 
And  thus  the  high  dispute  begun. 

St  Andrew  first,  with  reason  strongs 
Msintain'd  to  him  he  did  beloog : 
"  Swift  is  my  own,  by  right  divine. 
All  bom  upon  this  day  are  mine." 

St  Patrick  said,  *'  I  own  this  true^ 
''  So  for  he  does  belong  to  you : 
But  m  my  church  he  's  bom  again, 
My  son  adopted,  and  my  dean. 
When  first  the  Chrisiian^iruth  I  spie^ 
The  poor  within  this  isle  I  fed, 
Aiid  darkest  errours  banishM  henoe. 
Made  knowledge  in  their  place  commence^ 
Nay  more,  at  my  divine  command. 
All  noxious  creaiures  fled  the  land. 
I  made  both  peace  and  plenty  smile* 
Hiberaia  was  my  favourite  isle ; 
Now  his — for  he  succeeds  to  me. 
Two  angels  cannot  more  agree. 

*'  His  joy  is,  to  relieve  the  poor  ; 
Bdiold  them  weekly  at  his  door ! 
His  knowledge  too,  in  brightest  rayf« 
He  like  the  Sun  to  all  conveys  ; 
Shows  wisdom  in  a  single  page. 
And  in  one  hour  instructs  a»agew 
Wheki  rain  lately  stood  around 
Th*  enclosures  of  my  sacred  gnmnd^ 
He  gloriously  did  interpose. 
And  savVl  it  from  mvading  foes; 
For  this  I  claim  immortal  Swift, 
As  my  own  son,  and  Heaven's  best  gift.** 

The  Caledonian  sunt  enraged, ' 
Noir  closer  In  dlq^ute  engag*d, 

1  See,  in  BvnelFt  PoeaiSa  an  d^gantoooipliaMa^ 
onthasaBMOMMMNb    ^« 


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'   8WIPFS  POEMS. 


534 

Essays  to  prove,  by  transmigratioD, 
The  dean  is  of  the  Scottbb  nation  ;  , 
And,  to  confirm  the  truth,  he  chose 
llie  loyal  sonl  of  great  Montrose, 
"  Mgntrose  and  he  are  both  the  same. 
They  only  difier  in  the  name ; 
Boib,  heroes  in  a  righteous  cause, 
Assert  their  liberties  and  laws : 
He  's  DOW  the  same,  Montrose  was  then, 
But  that  the  wmd  is  tum'4  a  p«n  ; 
A  ptn  of  90  great  power,  each  word 
l)efends  beyond  the  hero's  ncord." 

Now  words  grew  high — we  ca»^  suppose 
Immortals  ever  come  to  blows ; 
But,  lest  unruly  passion  should 
Degrade  them  into  flesh  and  blood. 
An  angel  quick  from  Heaven  de:jcends. 
And  he  at  once  the  contest  ends : 

<'  Ye  reverend  pair,  from  discord  cease, 
Ye  both  mistake  the  present  case ; 
One  kingdom  cannot  have  pretence 
To  so  much  virtue !  so  much  sense : 
Search  Heaven's  record ;  and  there  yoo  '11  find 
That  He  was  bom  for  all  mankind." 


'      EPISTLE 
TO  ROBERT  NUGENT,  ESQ. 
wrra  A  picvuEB  of  dIav  swirr. 

BY   DB.  DUNKIN  K 

To  gratify  thy  long  demre 

(So  hove  and  Piety  require). 

From  Bindon's  *  colours  yon  may  trace 

The  patriot's  venerable  face. 

The  last,  O  Nugent  I  which  hit  art 

Shall  ever  to  the  world  impart ; 

For  know,  the  prime  of  mortal  men. 

That  matchless  monarch  of  the  pen 

(Whose  labours,  like  the  genial  Sun, 

Shall  through  revolving  ages  run. 

Yet  never,  like  the  Stm,  decline. 

But  in  their  full  meridian  shine). 

That  ever-honour'd,  envied  sage. 

So  long  the  wonder  of  his  age. 

Who  cbarm'd  us  with  his  golden  strain. 

Is  not  the  shadow  of  the  dean : 

He  only  breathes  Boeotian  air— 

«<  Oh  I  what  a  falling-off  was  there  1'* 

Hibemia's  Helicon  is  dry. 
Invention,  Wit,  and  Humour  die. 
And  what  remains  against  the  storm 
Of  Malice,  but  an  empty  form  ? 
The  nodding  nuns  of  a  pile. 
That  stood  the  bulwark  of  this  isle  ; 
In  which  the  sisterhood  was  flx'd 
Of  candid  Honour,  Truth  unmix'd. 
Impartial  Reason,  Thought  profound. 
And  Charity,  diflbsing  round, 

1  This  elegant  tribote  of  gratitude,  as  it  was  writ- 
ten at  a  penod  when  all  suspicion  of  flattery  most 
vanish,  reflects  the  highest  honour  on  the  ingenious 
writer,  and  cannot  but  be  agreeable  to  the  adminnv 
4rfDr.  SwHt    JV. 

<S9QkudBiiidoii,Mq.k0eiffaratidfii«(er.    N. 


In  (^eerful  rivnlets,  the  flow. 
Of  Fortune  to  the  sods  of  wofr^ 

Such  one,  my  Nugent,  ww  thy  Swifts 
Endued  with  each  esudted  gHt. 
But,  lo !  the  pure  ssthereal  flame, 
b  darken'd  by  a  misty  steam : 
The  halm  exhausted  breathes  no  smell. 
The  rose  is  withered  ere  it  fell. 
That  godlike  supplement  cf  law, 
Which  held  the  wicked  worid  in  awe. 
And  cQidd  the  tide  of  ^Uon  stem. 
Is  but  a  shell  without  the  gem. 

Ye  sons  of  genius,  who  would  aim 
To  build  an  everlasting  fafne, 
And,  in  the  field  of  letter'd  arts, 
Display  the  trophies  of  your  part% 
To  y(#ider  mansion  turn  aside. 
And  mortify  your  growing  pride. 
Behold  the  brightest  of  the  race. 
And  Nature's  honour,  in  disgrace : 
With  humble  resignation  own. 
That  all  your  talents  are  a  loan  ^ 
By  Providence  advanc*d  for  use. 
Which  you  should  study  to  prodnoe. 
Reflect,  the  mental  stock,  alas ! 
However  current  now  it  pass. 
May  haply  be  recall'd  from  you 
Before  the  grave  demands  his  due.. 
Then,  while  your  morning-star  proceeds^ 
Direct  your  course  to  worthy  deedi^ 
In  fuller  day  discharge  your  debts; 
For,  when  your  sun  of  reason  sets. 
The  night  succeeds  ;  and  all  yonr  schemea 
Of  glory  vanish  with  yonr  dreams. 

Ah  1  where  is  now  the  supple  train 
That  dans'd  attendance  on  the  dean  ? 
Say,  where  arp  those  fiscedous  folksy 
Who  shook  with  laughter  at  his  jokes. 
And  with  attentive  r^ure  hung 
On  wisdom  dreeing  from  his  toqgue ; 
Who  look'd  with  high  disdainful  pride 
On  all  the  busy  world  beside. 
And  rated  bis  productions  more 
Than  treasures  of  PeruviaB  ore  ? 

Good  Christians !  they  with  bended  koitm 
Ingulph'd  the  wine,  but  loath  the  lees. 
Averting  (so  the  text  commands). 
With  ardent  eyes  and  op-cast  hands, 
The  cup  of  soirow  from  their  lips, 
And  fly,  like  rats  from  sinkuig  diips* 
While  some,  who  by  his  friendsliip  rOlt 
To  wealth,  in  concert  with  his  Ibes, 
Run  counter  to  their  former  track. 
Like  old  ActSMn's  horrid  padk 
Of  yeHh^  mongrels,  in  requital* 
To  riot  on  their  master's  vitals ; 
And,  where  they  cannot  blast  his  laoieli^ 
Attempt  to  rtigmatize  his  morals; 
Tbroi^  Scandal's  oiagQilying.gliias 
^s  foiUes  view,  but  virtues  pass^ 
iM  on  the  ruhu  of  his  hm0 
Erect  an  ignomroious  uane. 
So  temin  foul,  of  vile  extractiMB, 
Tkd  spasm  of  dirt  and  potrefoctioo. 
The  Bouad^  members  tt9afa9§  o'civ 
But  fix  and  fiOten  pp  afor^ . 
Hepce !  peace,  ye  wreM^  who  *eiil» 
Hit  wit,  hiB  huouHu^  cad  hit  9tf  k# 


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INSCWmON EPIGRAM. 


535 


iince  all  the  mootten  which  he  drew 
Were  only  meant  to  copy  you ; 
And,  if  the  coloura  be  not  fainter. 
Arraign  yourselves,  and  not  the  painter. 

But,  oh !  that  He,  vhogarc  him  breath, 
Dread  arbiter  of  life  and  death  ! 
That  He,  the  moving  soul  of  all. 
The  sleeping  spirit  would  recall. 
And  crown  him  with  triumphant  meeds. 
For  all  his  past  heroic  deeds. 
Id  mansions  of  unbroken  rest, 
The  bright  republic  of  the  bless'd  ! 
Irradiate  his  benighted  mind 
With  liTing  light  of  light  refin'4  ', 
And  these  the  blank  of  thought  employ 
With  objects  of  immortal  joy ! 

Yet,  while  he  drags  the  sad  remains 
Of  life,  slow-creeping  through  his  Teios, 
Above  the  Tiew««  of  private  ends. 
The  tributarv  Muse  attends. 
To  prop  his  feeble  steps,  or  shed 
Th0  pious  tear  around  bis  bed. 

So  pU^ms,  with  devout  complaints,    . 
Frequeol  the  graves  of  martyr'd  saipts. 


fnscribe  their  worth  in  artleis  lines. 
And,  in  their  stead,  embrace  their  shrines. 


INSCRIPTION 
nrrsyDRD  Fot  a  MovuMtirr.     1765. 

Sat,  to  the  Drapier't  vast  unbounded  fame. 
What  added  honours  can  the  sculptor  give  ? 
None. — 'Tis  a  sanction  from  the  DrapieHs 
Must  bid  the  sculptor  and  his  marble  live. 


EPIGILiM 

OCCASIONED  BY  THE  ABOVE   INlCBIPTION. 

Which  gave  the  Drapier  birth  two  realms  contend  ; 

And  each  asserts  her  poet,  patriot,  friend : 

Her  mitre  jealous  Britain  may  deny ; 

That  loss  lemia's  laurel  shall  supply: 

Through  life's  low  mle,  she,  grateful,  gave  him  bread ; 

iler  vocal  stones  sbdl  vunlicate  him  dertd. 

1766.     B,  N. 


END  OP  VOL.  XL 


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