Made wise by thee, whose happy style conveys
The purest morals in the softest lays;
As angels once, so now we mortals bold
Shall climb the ladder Jacob view'd of old;
The kind reforming Muse shall lead the way
To the bright regions of eternal day.
ON THE FIRST EDITION OF HIS SEASONS.'
So bright, so dark, upon an April day
The sun darts forth, or hides his various
So high, so low, the lark aspiring sings,
Or drops 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 I write,
Severely kind, by envy sour'd or spite;
Nor would I rob thy brows to grace my own;
Such arts are to my honest soul unknown.
I read thee over as a friend should read,
Grieved when you fail, o'erjoy'd when you succeed.
Why should thy Muse, born so divinely fair,
Want the reforming toilet's daily care?
Dress the gay maid, improve each native grace,
And call forth all the glories of her face:
Studiously plain, and elegantly clean,
With unaffected speech and easy mien,
The' accomplish'd nymph, in all her best attire,
Courts shall applaud, and prostrate crowds admire,
Discreetly daring, with a stiffen'd rein,
Firm in thy seat, the flying steed restrain.
Though few thy faults, who can perfection boast? Spots in the sun are in his lustre lost;
Yet even those spots expunge with patient care,
Nor fondly the minutest error spare:
For kind and wise, the parent who reproves
The slightest blemish in the child he loves.
Read Philips much, consider Milton more;
But from their dross extract the purer ore.
To coin new words, or 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 shalt thou be the nation's joy and pride:
The rhyming, 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 refined, so just, so great,
In Britain's isle shall fix the Muses' seat,
And new Parnassus shall at home create:
Rules from thy works, each future bard shall draw,
Thy works, above the critic's nicer law,
And rich in brilliant gems without a flaw.
THE EARL OF HALIFAX;
WITH THE FABLE OF THE TWO SPRINGS.'
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 from them received the happy plan,
And taught the brute to pedagogue the man.
The matron Truth appears with better grace,
When well-wrought fables veil her reverend face:
Dry precept may instruct, but can't delight,
While pleasing fictions all our powers excite.
Our busy minds each faculty employ,
And range around, and start their game with joy;
Pleas'd with the chase, make the rich prey their
And glory in the conquests they have won.
Fable alone can crown the poet's brow,
Upon his works immortal charms bestow;
And 'twere a sin that method to disprove
Which Heaven has fix'd by sanctions from above.
My humble Muse in calm retirement roves
Near mossy fountains, and near shady groves;
Yet there, even there, her loyal hands would raise
Some rural trophy to her monarch's praise;
Instruct those fountains and those groves to show
What copious blessings from his bounty flow;
While flowers and shrubs bless his propitious aid,
His urn refreshing, or protecting shade.
Great friend of humankind! 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 lawless way,
And o'er the ravaged world extend their sway:
"Tis thine, great George! to guard thy favourite isle
From open force, and every secret wile,
To raise the' oppress'd, to make the captives smile;
To pay just Heaven what righteous monarchs owe,
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 blissful seats, where Thame and Isis join!
Lovely retirement of the sacred Nine!
Parent of arts, and once my sweet abode,
Can ye forget the blessings he bestow'd!
Can sophistry prevail against that prince
Whose mercy and beneficence convince ?
Oh! touch each tuneful string, let
every Muse
From all her stores her noblest pæans choose;
Pay what she can in tributary lays,
And to his virtue grant 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 never blast,
But ages yet to come shall join the past,
And Brunswick's glory with the world shall last.
Quo non præstantior alter
Ære ciere viros, Martemque accendere cantu. VIRG.
A PARTY of hussars, of late
For prog and plunder scower'd the plains,
Some French gens d'armes surprised and beat,
And brought their trumpeter in chains.
In doleful plight the' unhappy bard
For quarter begg'd on bended knee,
'Pity, Messieurs! in truth 'tis hard
To kill a harmless enemy:
These hands, of slaughter innocent,
Ne'er brandish'd the destructive sword;
To you or yours no hurt I meant;
O! take a poor musician's word.'
But the stern foe, with generous rage,
'Scoundrel! (replied) thou first shalt die,
Who, urging others to engage,
From fame and danger basely fly.
'The brave by law of arms we spare, Thou by the hangman shalt expire; 'Tis just, and not at all severe,
To stop the breath that blew the fire.'
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