Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

30 Mhall my death, my faithful paflion prove, Rhyming, I'd mount, like Dennis, heretofore, And my heart die a martyr to my love.

Blufter as loudly, and as proudly foar.
TO MR. EUSDEN,

Well may such poets rise a tow'ring height,

Who have no chought to intercept their fights Defiring bis Correllions on a Poem". Nor need they fcar to tumble from the skies, DEAR SIR,

For those can never fall, who never rise. Ir what a grateful heart can give,

But shall I with collected theft profane May meet a kind reception, this receive ;

The great, the bless'd, the venerable name! To these low, humble lines, a while unbend, Shall I with murd'rers to the altar fly, And let the critic soften to the friend;

Not through religious zeal, but infainy, Let human candor aid thy judging art,

As Blackmore sought in Job a fan&uary ! And thy head ever didate from thy heart !

Forbid it, Heav'n-- choose an humbler fate, Fond to be thought a candidate for fame, Nor would be wicked, to be vainly great. My muse, ambitious, takes a lofty aim ;

Let me in lowlier scenes a while delight, But, ah ! too bold her with, too large her vicw, With cooling judgment meditate the flight ; Unless approv'd, unless inspir'd by you;

Then, worthy Sir, if time confirm my thought,
Unless you tune her notes, in vain the fings, The tribute, if 'tis worthy, shall be brought ;
Unless you aid, in vain the spreads her wings; With double ardour I'll the task pursue,
Aw'd by your word, she'll, blushing own her fault, Tofing of Heaven, and fing to you.
Disclaiming each extravagance of thought ;
Nature, and art, at once, like you, dispense,

TO MR. HEDGES,
And ripen fancy into strength of fense.
Thus, tender trees, with flowers luxuriant smile,

Or Reading bis Latin Ode to Dr. Broxbolme.
Walte their vain fap, ungrateful to their foil; UNSKILL'D in Greek and Roman tongue,
Till some wise hand, with kind corre&ive care, Which words are short, and which are long,
Prune their gay pride, and bid their branches bear : To thee these home-spun lines I send,
Then fruits, and flowers, promiscuously abound, Not as a scholar, but a friend.
Teem from the froke, and blossom from the wound.

Here I might show from wise example,
Sidney-College, Jan. 27. 1725-6.

In work elaborate and ample,
W. Pattison.

That Homer, though he writ in Greek,

Writ what his mother taughthim speak ;
AN APOLOGY TO MR. BEL.L.

Horace and Virgil's learned Latin,
Clurior in tenebris fi latuiffet, erat.

Was what, when boys, they us’d to prate in. SIR,

That all fam'd bards, except the Dutch, Ir I my tributary lays refuse,

(If there were ever any such) o blame not me, but blame che conscious muse! Have writ the poems, they excel in, For when commanding duty bids me ling, In the same congue they learn’d to spell in. She stops my voice, and breaks the jarring Aring; To thee alone, with greatest case, And when I would the pleasing task renew, 'Tis granted, in all ways, to please ; The awsul Roman rises to my view,

And, by a gift from heaven miraculous, Let those, says he, who aim in all they write,

All lingua's are to thee vernacula's : At once to mingle profit, and delight;

That Horace felf had fcarcely known,
Their theme exactly to their measures fit,

Thy thoughts, or language from his own.
Nor vainly hope to vise above their wit :
Who looks aloft, will surely tread awry,

Many a lad returns from fchool,
And may mistake a marl pit for the sky.

A Latin, Greek, and Hebrew fool;

In arts and knowledge still a block, Yet, like the rest, I can my tribute bring,

Though deeply fkill'd io bie, bec, boc. Like some perhaps in spite of nature fing :

Heavy they tread the up-hill way, Raofack each common author, and from thence

O'er craggy rocks, and found'ring clay, Profane good ancient phrase with modern sense.

Till weary with their road, they stop In rapine rich, laboriously dull,

Just at the mountain's lofty top; Witty, but just enough to how a fool;

Still poring on the barren ground, How could I langwith in a rural song,

View not the beauteous prospect round; And tag the tadpole-pastoral along?

Which, hid beneath the summit, lies How sweetly should the tuneful murmurs creep, Cone-alid from low and vulgar eyes, Ånd lull the ravish'd reader fast asleep?

And which alone can amply pay The blasted oaks should then more juftly fear,

The toil and drudgery of the way: My rhyming fury, than the thunder's scar.

From hence they might with transport view' How could I, wing'd with fplay-foot lyrics fly, All that the ancient sages knew; Like hag, on broomitick, through the troubled | What they perform'd, and what they thought, tky!

How Tully spoke, and Cæfar fought ;

While manners of a world unknown • Refameni to Henry.

Should guide their youth, and form their own;

While bright cramples lead to fame,

The Greeks for her alone had Arove, And vicius teach to fly their shame.

And Paris had been falle to love. Yet we might spare the mighty pains

Thus taught, and thus inspir'd, I write In searching ancient dark remains;

What friendship, and what love indite; Since greater worthies rise at home,

Free from each modern witling's vice, And Britain scorns to yield to Rome.

Envy and flander, flattery, lies, Augustus' reign, renown'd for peace,

To please our pride, or gain our end; For learning, wit, and wealth's increase; Each jest should sacrifice a friend ; No more we envy, while our land

While one's ill-nature joins to praise Is doubly bless'd from George's hand.

What th' other's malice dully says; Ammon's success, and Cæsar's mind,

In peace my harmless minutes pass, To form victorious Marlbro' join'd;

'Twixe business, beauty, and a glass; Demosthenes', and Tully's fame,

Nor want I aught, my soul to cheer, Must yield to Walpole's grcater name;

But thee, co join in pleasure here ; Fa&ion, and strife, to hear his voice,

Thus may I live, till life fall end,
Are dumb, and cease their jarring noise ::

And love my mistreso; country, friend!
Whole senates bow their yielding minds,
Like woods before the southern wiods ;

TO A FRIEND,
Free from deceit, and servile art,..

Diffuading him from loving a certain Lady. He speaks the didates of his heart; His congue enchants, his counsel leads;

Ir aught a kindly caution can impart, Peace enters first, then wealth succeeds:

Be this, not love, imprinted on thy heart; His virtues through the land confess'd,

Let every line a well-known truth commend, While thus he soothes us to be bleft.

And, where you doubt the poet, trust the friend; If to new scenes .we turn our view,

Let vanquish'd reason re-assume the field,

And to the true, the fictious goddess yield.
And learning, arts, and wit pursue,
Our land can furnish men of fame,

What Homer fcigns, when fierce Tydides (trore To eclipse the Greek, and Roman name.

Inspir'd by Pallas, with the queen of love; Locke shall inftrud, and forín our youth,

But shows the weakness of vain beauty's ärt, And teach their underst, ndings truth.

Whilst wisdom's facted influencé arms the heart : Vice shall look pale, and virtue thrive,

Yet, green in age, unvers'd in female wiles, Humanity; and friendship live;

Each specious show our easy fight beguiles; While Addison our miorals rules,

Gay courting scenes the early path adorn, And proves all villains to be fools.

And blooming beauty paints our youthful morn; Newton shall lead our ravish'd souls,

Our heedless pleasures with false obje&s rise, Through boundless worlds beyond the poles;

Blind to the black’ning cloud, and gathering kics From far to star direct our way,

But, ah! niethinks, I hear thec, lighing, say, As certain, and as fix'd as they:

Such charms invite! so flowery smiles the way! Examples were buc vain to prove,

Resolv'd, fair beauty's lovely maze i'll runOur nation's boast, our country's love.

Who might not thus? who would not be undone: A land of patriots brave, and free,

O stay, rafh youth! beware, be timely wise, While all mankind ars Naves but we!

Lurk'd in thac labyrinth, another moniter lies: To what a height true wit can reach,

How weak were female snares, bow vain each Let Waller, and let Congreve teach;

wile, And if we needs must write by rules,

Did not our eyes our hood-wink'd minds beguile? Without th' assistance of the schools,

Like grofo idolaters, we form the power, In flowing verse, and lines well-wrought,

Then, the dull image, as a god, adore ; What Horace, what Quintilian thought,

Breath'd in soft fighs, our pleading fouls impart, Join'd with a little mother wit,

And, for the victim, sacrifice our heart : Roscommon, and our Pope have writ.

Hence, Celia rules, the tyrant of thy breast, The fair, who best the mase infpire,

In all the seeming Deity confeft;

Hence, when she speaks, there's music in the found, Who warm the heart, and tune the lyte,

Hence, when the looks, her eyes like lightning Superior to all former dames;

wound: Inhabit now the banks of Thames :

But, to thy reason's eģe, the scene display, Th' Egyptian queen, the ancient's boalt,

And the proud phantom-goddess fades away; For whom the well-foughe world was lost,

No more her immortality remains,
Tell me, dear Hedges, thou canst tell,
Thou know'st the dead, and living well,

Unless preserv'd in thy immortal Krains.
Could she her haughty charms compare

Grant we, thy Celia's charms superior fine, With her, who represents her here?

Or, in the lover's language, look divine; Old Homer's theme, the Grecian dame,

Yet, is each charm to her alone confin'd? Who set whole nations in a flame,

Or canst thou judge, by partial passion blind! No more had been the beauteous prize

Still, will each faithful, love-alluring grace, Had they behold Lavinia's eyes :

Beam in her eye, and brighcca up ber face!

İn, the blue fummit of some mountain's height, Surprising scenes attract our fight,
Wrapt in gay clouds, deludes the distant fight; And turn displeasure to delight;
But, as with gazing eyes we draw more near, , The savages forsake their place,
Fades the false scene, and the rough rocles appear. And yield to nobler human race.

Nor outward form thy easy thought controul,
But be the look an index to the ful;

An Natura incendat Monftrum? Nog. For, when old nature fram'd the faithless fair,

Translated from the Carm. Quad.
From every work the goddess call'd a share;

Press'd with a load of poverty and years,
In heav'nly beauty bade her face excel,
But made her heart the treasury of hell :

How strange a progidy the wretch appears;
Hence, pride, and lust, and jealous fury grow,

Whofecrembling limbs, and surrow'd brows reveal,

The noxious witch, foc to the public weal;
The Springs of sorrow, and the seeds of woe :
Thus brothels with a painted angel shine,

Who gathers herbs by moonlight, and alarms Whild latent devils enambush'd, lurk within.

The neighb'ring villages with magic charms:

To her imagin'd spells dire woes succeed, Nor think, my Damon, that I ralhly blanje The geo'rnus courser lothes the flow'ry mead; Thy too good nature, thy too generous Aame; Spurning the glebe around the field he flies, Like chine, my vidim'd heart, the pangs has bore, Forsakes his dappled mares, repines, and dies. But, (ah, delightsul change!) endures no more ; Yet, 0 : for oft che thought disturbs my reft,

From infants tender throats (what nurses say

There numbers fall to wond'ring cars convey) 'lis bard to heal a love-envenom'd breast; So soft each arrow steals upon our heart,

Sharp pins and needles tear their bloody way. Ie glides a feather, but it grows a dart.

From heifers stubborn teats the trickling store Yet, would thou from increasing ills be free,

Of milky nedar now descends no more ;

Dame Baucis erudges to the fields in vain,
Pursue my precepts, and resolve like me,
When the false fyren singles out her man,

Few drops, alas: her stinted pails contain.

Oft the malicious hag is seen to fly, Tips the lewd leer, or flaps the firting fan; o thun th' infection (wift, vi&orious, fly,

Through the large convex of the nether sky;

Upborn by magic staff the rides secure,
She smiles a ruin, and the looks a lie:
But, mutt some lovely, some divinely fair,

(Superior to the giddy whirlwinds power.) Sweeten this draught of life, and soothe thy care;

Advent'rous, o'er the pathless welkin strays,

Mocks the rude winds, and in the tempest plays. Let the gay mufe relieve thy sickening pain, And form a brighter Venus of the brain : [grieve, Now dwindled to an hare, the scours in view, Then shalt thou scorn those charms that made thee Now tir'd, the beagle's eager speed eludes,

While the full cry her circling maze pursue ; And by the fair illusion learn to live.

In puzzling thickets loft, or trackless woods : So Israel's sons, by poisonous serpents fung, The baffled hunters for the witch inquire, Aloft in air, a mimic serpent hung ;

Now safely seated by the kitchen fire; Fix'd on the fight, the fad afflicted train

Hid in grimalkin's form, with fullen pride, Gaz'd into health, and look'd away their pain. Demure me fits, and licks her tabby side. Sidney-Coll. Feb. 19. 5725-6.

Whence knows she thus to vary her disguise,

And in a borrow'd hape deceive our eyes?
ON A PAINTED LADY,

She, whom the restless course of time made old, Celia's fair, the charming toalt,

(Time thar distorts the fairelt human mould) May of each perfe&ion boatt ;

Though a poor simple soul as ever liv'd, What penurious nature owes,

Is by the vulgar as a witch receiv'd. Art more liberal bellows:

Thus monsters in our mind alone exist, Bids a fresher blush arise,

We give 'em birth, and shape them as we lift. Keener lightning arm her eyes; Adds, or animates a grace,

TO MR. ROCHE,
And wakes the wonders of her face :

Upon bis translating the foregoing Piece.
The blushing tindures (miling flow,
To see how cunningly they grow;

To praise unknown, unknowing to commend, To see how all the beaus adore

Distinguishes the critic from the friend : Cælia, mortal now no more,

Such was my juft applause when public fame New created by their power.

Proclaim'd your merit, but conceal'd your nance Thus che fairest (wcetel place,

Like Egypt we ador'd the teeming flood, Once uncultivated was;

And bless'd the latent author of our good. Where parterres their flowers disclose,

No more shall filly tales the world deceive, Bulhes, brakes, and briars rose;

No more the fillier world those tales believe : Thorns with pointed horror stood,

Each wither'd crone shall live and die unblam'd, And arm'd the borders of the wood;

Aod be no more a witch or wizard nam's : But since the workman's pow'rful hand

No public grievances infelt her case, -ubdu'd, and civiliz'd the land;

But innocently the may stink in peace. Tun'd the corrents to cascades,

The only prodigy which now appears, and softco'd forests inco luades,

Is such a genius so beyond its years.

For this a rettless fhade I rove
TO A WRETCHED POETASTER; Be warnd by my pitiful fate!

Betimes, betimes renounce your love.
That went into mourning to counterfeit his fifter's death.

Nor ponder this leflon too late!
In vain, poor fustian fop, you dress and write, So may good angels guard thy neep.--
Begot in nature's scorn, and wit's despite ;

But I to the falle-hcarted naid
For sure she made thee only for a rule,

Will glide, and through the curtains peep; To form a coycomb, and a canting fool;

There show her the man she betray'd. In vain you tag dull miserable rhyme,

She cannot, sure, she cannot see And make it with your shambling legs to chime;

So wretched an object unmov'd! The muse you may pursue in nature's spite,

At least, I think, she'll pity me,
But never overcake her tow'ring flight;

More truly than ever she lov'd.
In this you're only right, so smart in black,
For then, you show your soul, upon your back.

Farewell ---but, go to yonder cave,
As the fiy peasant hangs a breathless crow,

Where my bones to the ravens lie bare ;

Inhume them kindly in a grave,
To scare the verinin from the corn below;
So fortune sets thee in a * world of wit,

And my fame from afpersers, O clear! To keep fools like thyself froni tating it.

I trembled as the spectre spoke, Of old, we read Amphion's facred song,

And larting, awak'd with the fright,

While the hoarse night bird's hollow croak, Could draw dull blocks and senseless stones along;

Presented the fivering (p'rit.
The same effcct among thy books we see,
For they draw blocks, as dall, in drawing thee. A sudden chillness freez'd my breast,

My soul in a terror was fied ;
Thy wit, and money, both are of a length,
Both stol'n, dependant on cach other's strength;

Fainting, I sunk, henumb'd oppressid,

And dreamt that Beliza was dead.
But soon thy filter shall resume her breath,
And to thy muse, and thee give furer death ; When soon, for now the dawning light
Then, those black enligns of her wish'd-for fate,

Be-jeweli'd the dew-dropping rale, May mourn thy transient wit, and lost estate. A youth came posting through the night ;

To tell me the fore-boded tale. Wrote at Appleby School, 1723.

The maid was dead--my fears were just, SONG,

I arose, and foon found out the cave,

Prepar'd an urn, then mix'd their dust, 'Twas in the solemn noon of night,

And weeping laid both in a grave.
As I lay by a murmuring stream,
Betray'd by fancy's sweet delight,

FROM LONDON TO CAMERIDGE. Amus'd by an amorous dream.

AN EPISTLE TO MR. ROCHE.
When straight I heard, or seem'd to hear,
From an ivy's dark reverend Shade,

SIR,
A folemn sound afTault inine ear,

Yours, I receiv'd, with mighty pleasure, And heavily pierce the thick glade.

Attended with my learned* treasure;

And had I Burkett's knack, and time,
But soon a faint pale form appear'd,
Like a shade on a moon-fhiny wall;

I'd fhoe my muse's feet with rhyme,

I'd send you such a pack of news,
To it's gor'd breast it's band it scar'd,
And utter'd this sorrowful call.

Nay, make an hackney of my muse :

Prove logically Pupe a foolt, O pity me kind hearted (wain!

Sagely denounce great Shakspeare dull, For you knew, ah too well! the false maid; To both preser good Master Fenton, She lov'd me first, first sooth'd my pain,

Or, in a moment's sime invent one; She fooch'd it, but then she betray'd !

But for necesity you know, Depress'd with anguish, rage, and grick,

One's self might stand-in flate quo. i fatally fought out this grove,

But hang it, l've no turn for fa:ire, Here rafhly cut the thread of life,

Besides, 'ris quite against my nature; And ended all hopes of my love!

For criticisms! piaw the bottle But yet, though beauty cannot please,

The devil take your Aristotle : And, though I'm now tafteicis of charms, Give me a sparkling foaming glass, 'Twill rob me of eternal reft,

As bright and clever as my lais; To think her enjoy'd in thy arms.

Thus let ns dance an endless round,

Till one or t'other throws me down.
Yet once, I think, thou wert my friend,
Till the friend in the rival was lost,

But now to talk a little serious,
O kindly let the rival end.

Nor vainly light, nor yet mysterious; Nor farther torment a poor ghost:

Books received * Meaning bis books,

t in arswer to Burkcit's afferting these tends.

[ocr errors]

Pray how do Cambridge matters stand ?

But search the world : and if you can How fare the brethren of the band?

In town or country find that man, For now I think on’t in your last,

To your opinion I'll descend, Thofe things were negligently pass'd;

If not, I hope, you'll hear your friend. Bue in your next, pray let me know,

Well, for that's nearest, go to court, If you can come to town or no;

Begin your search, I wish you sport : For solitary here I stay,

His Honour, Lordship, and his Grace, Impatient at your long delay;

All mighty men! in mighty place!
Molt indolently spend my time,

But how are all those honours gain'd?
Or sleep, or drink, or idly rhyme;
Now lay new models for a poem,

Those inighty places, how obtain'd?

How? why by interest and favour, Then in a moment's time undo 'em ;

Then let me note, Sir, by your leave here; For faich the tuneful tribe negled me,

Those dignities 'tis plainly shown, While you are absent to direct me.

Are but another's, not their own; But, if you'll come, then in a trice,

Soon got, they may as soon be lost,
Alifted by your good advice;

While whim and fancy rule the roast;
I'll polish my poetic store,
And fish for trouts in metaphor;

And very plainly, by the bye,

Belong as much to you or I.
To Thames' ferene retreats repair,
And finish my fix cantos there * ;

But if they're bob'd by church or state,
My pleasurable labours done,

You say they've got a great eitate :
Subscribe, your servant Pattison.

A great estate! by whom? or how?
Lord, Sir! you're too inquis'tive now..

Job's father's dead, he's eldest son,
TO THE SAME.

Just come to age, lo all's his own ;
WHILE you, my dear, sit moap'd in college,

What would you more? but lend your ear, And lose your wie in search of knowledge,

And in a moment you thall hear; Reitrain'd by tutors, aw'd by doctors,

Your 'íquire has wealth, and therefore parts ! And watch'd by supercilious proctors;

Is great at court, deep vers’d in arts : I make the prelent day my own,

Yet whilst his stock of wealth and sense, And dedicate it to the town:

Is due to men or providence; As how? why thus; here's just a piece

He lives ! --but on another's pence! And this is all, my pleasure's price;

And while he grows the richer, yet With this l'll get politely drunk,

He only runs the more in debt; With this I'll get lome courtly punk,

Hence logically I could show, Not one of your damn'd common whores,

The more we have, the more we owe; That ply it at your merchant's doors;

But time's too precious thus to spend, But one, ay, such a one ! so fine!

And see we're at our journey's end--You bards would call her fome divine...

Here, o delicious ! take the glass--Some --but a rapture here encroaches,

O fill it higher! name the lassa. Time spends--- you captain of the coaches!

Now make a fool, as tale shaji bless us, Here master--- Where? why to the Rose,

Of Aristotle, and of Crvsus. (A place that every body knows.)

TO MR. MITCHELL,
But now we've got a moment's talk,
As folks tell stories as they walk;

Upon bis poetical petition to the Honourable Sir Robert For once I'll be as dull and sober,

Walpole. As if I'd guzzled fat odober.

Back, scribbler, to thy Caledonian plains, I know you, and twenty more,

Cold as thy genius, barren as thy brains; If once poetically---poor;

To those inhofpitable mountains show, Would as and frown, be hipp'd, and snivel, A cursed rhyming itch they never knew; And curfe your forcune to the devil;

Nor think to read thy ledures here; for know, Whilft I, all gay, and debonair,

We never take dictators from the plough: Till I must feel, would nothing fear.

Then peaceably betimes resign thy quill, Riches are joys indeed---I want 'em,

Scotland to British power is subject ftill ; And I'll thank fortune if the'll grant 'em;

While Congreve with a just politeness warms, Ef not---why I'm the richer ftill--

While eafy Pope with flowing music charms; No, no, you mean the poorer Will...

While witty Swift shall every muse adorn, The richer, Sir, I say again,

And Dennis scourge the fools he does not scorn ; And thus the matter I'll explain.

While Philips' verse delights the lift'ning swains, Those mortals, happy, you'll allow,

And Steele declines the praise his merit gains ; Who nothing borrow, nothing owe?

While Fenton's fadly-pleasing numbers move,

And Granville kindles up a nobler love. He bad a design of writing a form upon angling, While happy we these tuneful bards can hear, n for cantes.

Nu foreign jargon thall debauch our ear. VuL. VIII.

[ocr errors]
« AnteriorContinuar »