Who fears bright Glory's awful face to see,
And shuns renown as much as infamy;
But bless'd is he who exercis'd in cares
To private leisure publick virtue bears,
Who tranquil ends the race he nobly run,
And decks repose with trophies Labour won.
Him Honour follows to the secret shade,
And crowns propitious his declining head;
In his retreats their harps the Muses string,
For him in lays unbought spontaneous sing;
Friendship and Truth on all his moments wait,
Pleas'd with retirement better than with state; 30
And round the bow'r where humbly great he lies
Fair olives bloom or verdant laurels rise.
So when thy country shall no more demand
The needful aid of thy sustaining hand,
When Peace restor'd shall on her downy wing 35
Secure repose and careless leisure bring,
Then to the shades of learned ease retir'd,
The world forgetting, by the world admir'd,
Among thy books and friends thou shalt
Contemplative and quiet happiness,
Pleas'd to review a life in honour spent,
And painful merit paid with sweet content.
Yet tho' thy hours unclogg'd with sorrow roll,
Tho' Wisdom call and Science feed thy soul,
One dearer bliss remains to be possest
That only can improve and crown the rest.-
Permit thy friend this secret to reveal,
Which thy own heart perhaps would better tell:
G
The point to which our sweetest passions move
Is to be truly lov'd and fondly love.
This is the charm that smooths the troubled breast,
Friend of our health and author of our rest,
Bids ev'ry gloomy vexing passion fly,
And tunes each jarring string to harmony.
Ev'n while I write the name of Love inspires
More pleasing thoughts and more enliv`ning fires,
Beneath his pow'r my raptur'd fancy glows,
And ev'ry tender verse more sweetly flows.
Dull is the privilege of living free;
Our hearts were never form'd for liberty:
Some beauteous image well imprinted there
Can best defend them from consuming care.
In vain to groves and gardens we retire,
And Nature in her rural works admire ;
Tho' grateful these, yet these but faintly charm; 65
They may delight us but can never warm.
May some fair eyes, my Friend! thy bosom fire
With pleasing pangs of ever-gay desire,
And teach thee that soft science which alone
Still to thy searching mind rests slightly known.
Thy soul tho' great is tender and refin'd,
To friendship sensible, to love inclin'd,
And therefore long thou canst not arm thy breast
Against the entrance of so sweet a guest.
Hear what th' inspiring Muses bid me tell,
For Heav'n shall ratify what they reveal:
“A chosen bride shall in thy arms be plac'd,
"With all th' attractive charms of beauty grac'd,
"Whose wit and virtue shall thy own express,
"Distinguish'd only by their softer dress:
"Thy greatness she or thy retreat shall share,
"Sweeten tranquillity or soften care;
"Her smiles the taste of ev'ry joy shall raise, "And add new pleasure to renown and praise, 84 "Till charm'd you own the truth my verse would "That happiness is near ally'd to love." [prove,
TO BE WRITTEN UNDER A PICTURE OF MR.POYNTZ.
SUCH is thy form, O Poyntz! but who shall find
A hand or colours to express thy mind?
A mind unmov'd by ev'ry vulgar fear
In a false world that dares to be sincere ;
Wise without art, without ambition great,
Tho' firm yet pliant, active tho' sedate:
With all the richest stores of learning fraught,
Yet better still by native prudence taught :
That fond the griefs of the distress'd to heal
Can pity frailties it could never feel;
That when Misfortune su'd ne'er sought to know
What sect, what party, whether friend or foe;
That fix'd on equal virtue's temp’rate laws,
Despises calumny and shuns applause;
That to its own perfections singly blind
Would for another think this praise design'd. 16
IMMORTAL Bard! for whom each Muse has wove
The fairest garlands of th' Aonian grove,
Preserv'd our drooping genius to restore
When Addison and Congreve are no more,
After so many stars extinct in night,
The darken'd age's last remaining light!
To thee from Latian realms this verse is writ,
Inspir'd by memory of ancient wit:
For now no more these climes their influence boast,
Fall'n is their glory and their virtue lost;
From tyrants and from priests the Muses fly,
Daughters of Reason and of Liberty.
Nor Baie now nor Umbria's plain they love,
Nor on the banks of Nar or Mincio rove;
To Thames's flow'ry borders they retire,
And kindle in thy breast the Roman fire.
So in the shades where cheer'd with summer rays
Melodious linnets warbled sprightly lays,
Soon as the faded falling leaves complain
Of gloomy Winter's unauspicious reign,
No tuneful voice is heard of joy or love,
But mournful silence saddens all the grove.
Unhappy Italy! whose alter'd state
Has felt the worst severity of Fate.
Not that barbarian hands her fasces broke,
And bow'd her haughty neck beneath their yoke,
Nor that her palaces to earth are thrown,
Her cities desert and her fields unsown;
But that her ancient spirit is decay'd,
That sacred Wisdom from her bounds is fled, 30
That there the source of science flows no more,
Whence its rich streams supply'd the world before.
Illustrious Names that once in Latium shin'd,
Born to instruct and to command mankind,
Chiefs by whose virtue mighty Rome was rais'd,35
And Poets, who those chiefs sublimely prais'd!
Oft' I the traces you have left explore,
Your ashes visit and your urns adore,
Oft' kiss with lips devout some mould'ring stone
With ivy's venerable shade o'ergrown,
Those hallow'd ruins better pleas'd to see
Than all the pomp of modern luxury.
As late on Virgil's tomb fresh flow'rs I strow'd,
While with th' inspiring Muse my bosom glow'd,
Crown'd with eternal bays my ravish'd eyes
Beheld the poet's awful form arise:
"Stranger!" he said," whose pious hand haspaid "These grateful rites to my attentive shade, "When thou shalt breathe thy happy native air, "To Pope this message from his master bear: 50 "Great Bard! whose numbers I myself inspire, "To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre, "If high exalted on the throne of Wit "Near me and Homer thou aspire to sit,
|