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" En erit, ut liceat totum mihi ferre per orbem, Our happier foil the prize shall yield to none, " Sola Sophocleo cua carmina digna cothurno!" Ardenna's groves shall boast an Addison.
Virg. Ye silvan powers, and all ye rural gods,
That guard these peaceful shades, and blest abodes; To the gay town where guilty pleasure reigns, For your new guest your choicest gifts prepare, The wise good man prefers our humble plains:
Exceed his wishes, and prevent his prayer; Neglected honours on his merit wait,
Grant him, propitious, freedom, health, and peace, Here he retires when courted to be great,
And as his virtues, fet his stores increale.
His lavish hand no deity shall mourni,
Great bard: how thall my worthless mule aspire Tune every reed, touch every string, ye fwains,
With hymns of joy in solemn pomp attend To the best narur'd man secure she flies.
Apollo's darling, and the muses' friend. (groves, When panting virtue her last efforts made, Ye nymphs, that haunt the streams and shady You brought your Clio to the virgin's aid; Forget a while co mourn your absent loves; Presumptuous folly blush'd, and vice withdrew, In song and sportive dance your joy proclaim, To vengeance yielding her abandon'd crew. In yielding blushes own your riling flame : 'Tis true, confederate wits their forces join, Be kind, ye nymphs, nor let him ligh in vain. Parpaffus labours in the work divine :
Each land remote your curious eye has view'd, Yet these we read with too impatient eyes, That Grecian arts, or Roman armis fubdu'd, And hont for you through every dark disguise ; Search every region, every distant soil, In vain your modelty that name conceals, With pleasing labour and instructive toil: Which every thought, which every word, reveals, Say then, accomplish'd bard! What god inclin’d? With like fuccefs bright beauty's goddels cries To these our humble plains your generous mind; To veil immortal charms from mortal cyes; Nor would you deign in Latian fields to dwell, Her graceful port, and her celestial mien,
Which oone know better, or describe fo well. To her brave son betray the Cyprian queen;
In vain ambrofial fruits invite your stay, Odours divine perfume her roly breast,
In vain the myrtle groves obstruct your way, She glides along the plain in majesty confess'd. And ductile streams that round the borders stray. Hard was the talk, and worthy your great mind, Your wifer choice prefers this spot of earth, To please at once, and to reform mankind : Distinguilhi'd by th' immortal Shakspeare's birth; Yet, when you write, truth charms with such ad Where through the vales the fair Avona glides, dress,
And nourishes the glebe with fattening tides; Pleads virtue's cause with such becoming grace, Flora's rich gifts deck all the verdant foil, His own fond heart the guilty wretch betrays, And plenty crowns the happy farmer's toil. He yields delighted, and convinc'd oheys: Here, on the painted borders of the flood, Vriu touch our follies with so nice a skill,
The babe was born; his bed with roses (trow'd : Nature and habit prompt in vain to ill.
Here in an ancient venerable dome, Nor can it lessen the Spectator's praise,
Oppress'd with grief, we view the poet's tomb. That from your friendly hand he' wears the bays; Angels unseen watch o'er his hallow'd urn, His great design all ages shall comnund,
And in soft elegies cuniplaining inourn! Bur mure his happy choice in such a friend. While the bless'd laine, in loftier Itrains above, So the fair queen of night the world relieves, Reveals the wonders of eternal love Nor at the fup's superior honour grieves,
The heavens, de'ighted in his cuneful lays, Proud to reflect the glories she recrives.
With silent joy attend thcir Maker's praise. When dark oblivion is the warrior's lot, In heaven he fings; on earth your mufe supplies His merits censur'd, and his wounds forgot: Th' important lofs, and heals our weeping eyes, When burnish'a helms and gilded armour rust, Correctly grca', she melts each flin'y heart, And each proud trophy links in common dust : With equal genius, but fuperior art. Fresh blooming honours deck the poet's brows, Hail, harpy pair ordain'd by turns to bless, He shares the mighty blessings he best wo And save a sinking nation in dittress. His spreading fame enlarges as it flov/s.
By great examples to reform the crowd, Hid not your muse in her immortal strain
Awake their zeal, and warm their frozen blood. Describ'd the glorious toils on Blenheim's plain, When Brurus strikes for liberty and laws, Even Marlborough might have fought and Dor. Nor spares a father in his country's cause; mner bled in vain.
Justice fevere applauds the cruel deed, When honour calls, and the just cause inspires, A tyrant Juffers, and the world is freed, Britain's bold suns to c:nulate their fires;
But, when we see the godlike Cato bleed, Your muse these great examples fhall fupply, The nation weeps; and from thy fate, oh Rome: Like that to conquer. or like this to die.
Learnst prevent her own impending doom. Contending nations anticne Homer claim,
Where is the wretch a worthless life can prize, And Mancua glories in her Maro's name; When fenates are no more, and Cato dies?
BOOK IV. ODE IX.
Indulgent forrow, and a pleasing pain,
Age, unwilling to depart,
Youth, reviving from his art,
His country's honour, or his friends,
A more extensive bounty claim, Serene she smiles, revealing all her charms,
With joy the ready muse attends, And calls her free born youth to glorious arms. Immortal honours the bestows, Faction's repelld, and grumbling leaves her prey, A gift the muse alone can give ; Forlorn she fits, and dreads the fatal day,
She crowns the glorious victor's brows, When eastern gales shall sweep her hopes away. and bids expiring virtue live. Such ardent zeal your mufe alone could raise, Nymphs yet unborn shall melt with amorous flames Alone reward it with immortal praise.
That Congreve's lays inspire; Ages to come shall celebrate your fame,
And Philips warm the gentle swains
To love and soft defire.
Alas, each moving accent wounds!
The god restor'd, resumes his reign, He touch'd the trembling Itrings, the poet's song In killing joys and pleasing pain. Reviv'd the faint, and made the feeble strong ; Thus does each bard in different garð appear, Recall’d the living to the dusty plain,
Each muse has her peculiar air, And to a better life reli or'd the flain.
And in propriety of dress becomes more fair ; The victor-host amaz'd, with horror view'd'
To each, impartial Providence Th’affembling troops, and all the war renewid ; Well-chosen gifts bestows, 'To more than mortal courage quit the field,
He varies his munificence,
If we look back on ages past and gone,
When infant Time his race begun,
Obscur'd in clouds, and veil'd in shades of nighi. Inforibed to the Rişlt Hencurable James Stanbope, Esg. The muse alone can the dark scenes display,
ene of bis Maj/ly's principal Secretaries of State, af Enlarge the prosped, and disclose the day. terwards Earl jianbope.
'Tis Me the records of times past explores, Born near Avona's winding stream
And the dead hero to new life restores, I touch the trembling lyre,
To the brave man who for his country died, No vulgar thoughts, no vulgar theme,
Ereas a lasting pyramid, Shall the bold muse inspire.
Supports his dignity and fame, 'Tis immortality's her aim;
When mouldering pillars drop his name. Sublime the mounts the skies,
In full proportion leads her warrior forth, She climbs the steep ascent to fame,
Discovers his negleded worth, Nor ever shall want force to rise,
Brightens his deeds, by envious ru't o'erca?, While the supports her flight with Stanhope's name.
T'improve the present age, and vindicate the fafi, What though majestic Milton stands alone
Did not the muse our crying wrongs repcat, Inimitably great!
Ages to come no more thould know Bow low, ye bards, at his exalted throne,
of Lewis by oppression great
Than we of Nimrod now :
The meteor should but blaze and die,
Depriv'd of the reward of endless infamy. Lo, where th'embattled gods appear,
Ev'n that brave chief, who let the nations free, The mountains from their seats they tear,
The greatest name the word can boasi, And shake th' empyreal henvens with impious war!
Without the muse's aid, shall be Yet, nor thall Milton's ghost repine
Sunk in the side of time, and in oblivion loft. At all the honours we beftow
The sculptor's hand may make the marble live, On Addison's Jeferving brow,
Or the bold pencil trace By whom convinc'd, we own his work divine,
The wonders of that lovely face, Whose skilful pen has done his merit right,
Where every charm, and every grace, And set the jewel in a fairer light.
That man can with, or heaven can give, Enliven'd by his bright eflay
In happy union join’d, confess Each flowery scene appears more gay,
The hero born to conquer, and to bless. New beauties spring in Eden's fertile groves,
Yet vain, alas! is every art, And by his cul: ure paradife in proves.
Till the great work the muse complete, Garth, by Apollo doubly bk bil,
And evcilalting fame impart, Is by the god vtire pro di
That soars aloft, above the reach of fate.
Hail, happy bard! on whom the gods bestow
Though fawning knaves besiege thy gate, A genius equal to the valt design,
And court the honest man they hate; Whole thoughes Sublime in caly numbers flow,
Thy steady virtue charges through, While Marlborough's virtues animate each line.
Alike unerring to subdue, How shall our trembling fouls survey
As when on Almanara's plain the scatter'd squa. The horrors of each bloudy day;
drons flew. The wreaking carnage of the plain
Vain are th' attacks of force or art, Incumber'd with the mighty flain,
Where Cielar's arm defends a Cato's heart. The ftrange variety of death,
Oh! could thy generous foul dispense And the rai murmurs of departing breath? Through this unrighteous age its facred influence; Scamander's Itreams thall yield to Danube's Could the base crowd from thy example learn flood,
To trample on their impious gifts with scorn, To the dark boron of the deep pursued
With thame confounded to behold By fiercer flames, and stain'd with nobler blood.
A na'ion for a trifle fold, The gods thail arm on either side,
Dejected fenaces fou!d no more Th'important quarrel to decide;
Their champion's absence mourn, The gran i event embroil the realms above,
Contenling boroughs should thy name return; And faction revel in the court of Jove;
Thy bold Pailippics should restore While heaven, and earth, and lea, and air,
Britannia's wealth, and power, and fame, Shall feel the mighty ihock and labour of the war. Nor liberty be deem'd an empty name, Virtue conceal'd obfcurely dies,
While tyrants trembled on a foreign shore. Lost in the mean disguise
No swelling titles, pomp, and state,
For, careless of external fhow,
Sage nature dictates whom t'obey, But when its radiant charms are view'd,
And we the ready homage pay, Becomes the idol of the crowd,
Which to superior gifts we owe. And adds new lustre to the monarch's crown.
Merit like thine repuls'd an einpire gains, What British harp can lie un trung,
And virtue, though neglected, rcigas. When Stanhope's fame demands a long?
The wretch is indigent and poor, Upward, ye mures, take your wanton flight,
Who brooding fits o'er his ill-gotten store; Tune every lyre to S:anhope's praise,
Trembling with guilt, and haunted by his fio, Exert your most triumphant lays,
He feels the rigid judge within. Nor suffer such heroic deeds to fink in endless night.
But they alone are bless'd, who wisely know The golden Tagus shall forget to flow,
T'' enjoy the little which the gods bestow, And Ebro leave its channel dry,
Proud of their glorious wants, disdain Ere Stanhope's name to time shall bow,
To barter honesty for gain; And lost in dark oblivion lie.
No other ill but Thame they fear, Where thall the mufe begin her airy flight?
And scorn to purchase lise too dear : Where first direct her dubious way?
Profusely laviih of their blood, Loft in variety of light,
For their dear friends or country's good, And dazzled in excess of day?
Jf Britain conquer, can rejoice in death, Wisdom and valour, probity and truth,
And in triumphant shouts refiga their breathe At once upon the labouring fancy throng,
The conduct of old age, the fire of youth,
TO DR. MACKENZIE.
O trou, whose penetrating mind,
Whole heart benevolent, and kind, When former heroes were their care;
lis ever present in distress, T'exert at once their power divine,
Glad to preserve, and proud to bless : In thee, brave chief, collected fine.
Oh! lave not Arden's faithful grove, Su from each lovely blooming face
On Caledonian hills to rove; TH' ambitious artist stole a grace,
But hear our fond united prayer, When in one finilh'd piece he strove
Nor force a county to de!pair. paint th' all-glorious queen of love.
Let homicides in Warwick-lane, Thy provident unbiass'd inind
With hecatombs of victims llain, Knowing in arts of peace and war,
Butcher for knighthood, and for gain; With indefatigable care,
While thou purliest a nobler aim, Labours the good of human kind:
Declining interest for fame. Erect in dangers, model in success,
Where'er thy Maker's image dwells, Corruption's everlasting bang,
In gilded roofs, or imuky cel's, Where injur'd merit finds redress,
The fanie chy zeal : o'erjy'd to five And worthles villian, wait in vain.
Thy fellow-crcature from the grave :
For well thy foul can understand
This afk'd what form great Jove would next desise, The poor man's call is God's command;
And when his godfhip would again Taurise ! No frail, no tranfient good, his fee ;
That hinted at the wanton life he led But heaven, and bless'd eternity.
With Leda, and with baby Ganymede : Nor are thy labours here in vain,
Scandals and lies went merrily about, The pleasure over-pays the pain.
With heavenly lambs-wool, and nectarial stout. True happiness (if understood)
Home lhe returns crect with lust and pride, Conlifts alone, in doing good;
At bed and board alike unsatisfy'd ; Speak, all ye wise, cani God bestow,
The hen-peck'd god her angry presence fies, Oi man a greater pleasure know?
Or at her feet the passive thunderer lies, See where the grateful father bows!
In vain : ftill more the raves, still nore the storms, His tears confess how much he owes :
And heaven's high vaules echo her loud alarms : His son, the darling of his heart,
To Bacchus, merry blade, the god repairs, Restor'd by your prevailing art;
To drown in nectar his domestic cares, His house, his name, redeem'd by you,
The fury thither too pursues the chase, His ancient honours bloom anew.
Palls the rich juice, and poifons every glass; Bút oh! what idioms can express
Wine, that makes cowards brave, the dying strong, The vast transcendant happiness
Is a poor cordial 'gainst a woman's tongue. The faithful husband feels? his wife,
To arms! to arms! th' impetuous fury cries, His better half, recall'd to life :
The jolly god th' impending ruin flies: See, with what rapture! see him view
His trembling tigers hide their fearful heads, The shatter'd frame rebuilt by you !
Scar'd at a fierceness which their own exceeds; See health rekindling in her eyes !
Bottles aloft like burstiag bombs resound; Srée baffled death give up his prize!
And smoking (pout their liquid ruig round; Tell me, my friend, canst thou forbear,
Like storms of hail the scatter'd fragments fly, In this gay scene to claim a sbare ?
Bruis'd bowls and broken glass obscure the sky; Does not thy blood more swiftly flow?
Tables, and chairs, and stools, together hurid, Thy heart with secret transports glow?
With universal wreck fright all the nether world. Health, life, by heaven's indulgence sent,
Such was the clamour, such great Jove's surprise, And thou the glorious inftrument!
When by gigantic hands the mountains rife, Safe in thy art, no ills we fear,
To wrest his thunder, and invade the skics. Thy fand shall plant Elysium here;
Who would not envy Jove eternal life, Pale sickness shall thy triumphs own,
And with for godhead clogg'd with such a wife! And ruddy health exalt her throne.
If e'er it be my wayward face to wed, The fair, renew'd in all her charms,
Avere, ye powers, a Juno from my bed! Shall fly to thy protecting arms;
Let her be foolish, ugly, crooked, old, With gracious smiles repay thy care,
Let her be whore, or any thing but scold! And leave her lovers in despair.
With prayers incessant for my lot I crave While multitudes applaud and bless
The quiet cuckold, not the hen-peck'd Nave; Their great asylum in distress,
Or give me peace on earth, or give it in the My humble muse, among the crowd,
grave! Her joyful Pæans sings aloud. Could i but with Mæonian flight
IN MEMORY OF THE REV, MR. MOORE Sublimely foar through fields of light,
Or humble birth, but of more humble mind, Above the fars thy name Mould thine,
By learning much, by virtue more refin'd, Nor great Machaon's rival thine !
A fair and equal friend to all mankind. But father Phæbus, who has done
Parties and lects, by fierce divisions torn, So niuch for thee his favourite son,
Forget their hatred, and confent to mourn ; His other gifts on me bestows
Their hearts unite in undiffembled woe, With partial hands, nor hears my vows :
And in one common stream their sorrows flow. Oh! let a grateful heart supply,
Each part in life with equal grace he bore, What the penurious powers deny!
Obliging to the rich, a father to the poor.
From @pful riots silently he fled,
But came unbidden to the lick man's bed,
Manners and men he knew, and when to prefe IMPERIAL Jove (as poets sung of old)
The poor man's cause, and plead it with success. Was coupled to a more imperial scold,
No penal laws he stretch'd, but won by love A joalous, termagant, insulting jade,
His hearers' hearts, unwilling to reprove. And more observant than a wither'd maid : When four rebukes and harsher language fail, She watch'd his waters with unweary'd eyes. Could with a lucky jeft, or merry tale, And chas'd the god through every fly disguise, O'er stubborn souls in virtue's cause prevail. Out brav'd his thunder with her louder voice, Whene'er he preach'd, the throng attentive stood, And shook the poles with everlasting noise. Feafted with manna, and celestial food : At midnight revels when the gossips niet, He taught them how to live, and bow to die ; He was the theore of their eternal chat :
Nor did his adions give his words the lye.
Go, happy coul! sublimely take thy fight Succellive mischieis every hour
'Tis ftillan endleis scene of wo.
Restore me to myself again.
Let others vainly seek for ease,
Brom Galen and Hippocrates,
I fcorn such nauseous aids as these.
Halte then, my dear, unbrib'd attend,
The best élixir is a friend.
TO A LADY,
Wbo made me a Present of a Silver Pena And view his judge with joyful eyes;
FAIR-ONE, accept the thanks I owe, While haughty tyrants shrink afraid,
'Tis all a grateful heart can do. Aud call the mountains to their aid.
If e'er my soul the muse inspire
With raptures and poetic fire, THE HIP. TO WILLIAM COLMORE, ESQ. Your kind munificence I'll praise, The Lay after i be great Meteor, in March 1715. To you a thousand altars raise :
Jove fall descend in golden rain, This dismal morn, when call winds blow,
Or die a, swan; but ling in vain. And every languid pulse beats low,
Phæbus the witty and the gay, With face molt forrowfully grim,
Shall quit the chariot of the day, And head oppress’d with wind and whim, ro balk in your superior ray. Grave as an owl, and just as witty,
Your charms hall every god subdue, To thee I twang my dolcful ditty;
And every goddess envy you. And in mine own dull rhymes would find
Add this but to your bounty's store, Music to soothe my reftlels mind :
This one great boon, I ak no more: Buc oh! my friend, I fing in vain,
O gracious nymph, be kind as fair, No doggrel can relieve my pain;
Nor with disdain neglect my prayer, Since thou art gone my heart's desire,
So shall your goodness be confessid, And heaven, and earth, and sea conspire,
And I your llave entirely bless'd ; To make my miseries complete;
This peni no vulgar cheme shall stain. Where fhall a wretched Hip retreat ?
The noblest palm your gift shall gain,
To write to you, nor write in vain.
Presenting to a Lady e White Rose and a Red ar tbs
Tenth of June.
Ir this pale role offend your fight, li rais'd to speculations high,
It in yout bosom wear; I gaze the bars and spangled sky,
'Twill blush to find itself less white, With heart devour and wondering eye,
And turn Lancastrian there.
But, Celia, should the red be chose,
With gay vermilion bright; To mother carth's prolific bed,
'Twould ficken at each blush chat glows, Pensive I stoop my giddy head,
And in despair curn white. From thence too all my hopes are fled.
Let politicians idly prate, Nor flowers, nor grass, nor shrubs appear,
Their Babels build in vain; To deck the smiling infant year;
As uncontrolable as fate,
Imperial Love shall reign.
Each haughty faction shall obey,
And whigs and tories join, 0! where will my misfortunes end ?
Submit to your despotic (way,
Confess your right divine.
Yet this, my gracious monarch, own, Pregnant with wrongs, and arm'd with spight; They're tyrants that oppress;
'Tis meray must support your throne, * An invasion from Spain was sben expeeled.
And 'uis liks beaven to bless. TOL. VIII.