"Thy facred line he did but once repeat,
"And laid the ftorm, and cool'd the raging heat."
Thy heavenly notes, like angels' mutic cheer,
Departing fouls, and footh the dying ear.
An aged peafant, on his latek bed,
With'd for a friend fome godly book to read;
The pious grandson thy known handle takes,
And (eyes lift up this favory lecture makes:
Great A, he gravely read; th' important found
The empty walls and hallow roof rebound:
Th' expiring ancient rear'd his drooping head,
And thank'd his stars that Hodge had learn'd to
read.

Great B, the younker bauls; O heavenly breath!
What ghoftly comforts in the hour of death!
What hopes I feel! great C, pronounc'd the boy;
The grandfire dies with extafy of joy.

Yet in fome lands fuch ignorance abounds,
Whole parishes fcarce know thy useful founds.
Of Effex hundreds fame gives this report,
But fame, I ween, ys many things in fport.
Scarce lives the man to whom thou 'rt quite un-
known,

Though few th' extent of thy vaft empire own.
Whatever wonders magic spells can do
On earth, in air, in fea, in fhades below;
What words profound and dark wife Mahomet
fpoke,

When his old cow an angel's figure took ;
What strong enchantments fage Canidia knew,
Or Horace fung, fierce monfters to fubdue,
O mighty book, are all contain'd in you!
All human arts, and every fcience meet,
Within the limits of thy fingle sheet:
From thy vaft root all learning's branches grow,
And all her streams from thy deep fountain flow.
And, lo! while thus thy wonders I indite,
Infpir'd I feel the power of which I write ;
The gentler gout his former rage forgets,
Lefs frequent now, and lefs fevere the fits:
Loofe grew the chains which bound my useless
feet;

Stiffness and pain from every joint retreat ;
Surprising ftrength comes every moment on,
I ftand, I step, I walk, and now Irun.
Here let me ceafe, my hobbling numbers ftop,
And at thy handle hang my crutches up.

THERISTES; OR, THE LORDLING, THE GRANDSON OF A BRICKLAYER, GREAT

T

GRANDSON OF A BUTCHER.

HERISTES of amphibious breed,
Motley fruit of Mongrel iced:

By the dam from Lordlings iprung,
By the fire cxhal'd from dung :

Think on every vice in both,

Look on him, and fee their growth.

View him on the mother's fide, Fill'd with falfehood, fpleen, and pride, Politive and over-bearing, Changing ftill, and still adhering, Spitefu!, peevish, rude, untoward : Fierce in tongue, in heart a coward: When his friends he most is hard on, Crining comes to beg their pardon; * Votiva Tabula. Hos.

Reputation ever tearing,

Ever dearest friendship fwearing.
Judgment weak, and paffion ftrong;
Always various, always wrong:
Provocation never waits,
Where he loves, or where he hates.
Talks whate'er comes in his head,
Wishes it were all unfaid.

Let me now the vices trace,
From his father's fcoundrel race,
Who could give the looby fuch airs?
Were they mafons? Were they butchers?
Herald lend the Mufe an aniwer,
From his atavus and grandfire;
This was dexterous at his trowel,
That was bred to kill a cow well:
Hence the greafy clumfy mein,
In his dreís and figure feen:
Hence that mean and fordid foul,
Like his body, rank and foul:
Hence that wild fufpicious peep,
Like a rogue that steals a fheep:
Hence he learn'd the butcher's guile,
How to cut a throat and fmile :
Like a butcher doom'd for life,
In his mouth to wear his knife.
Hence he draws his daily food,
From his tenant's vital blood.

Laftly, let his gifts be try'd,
Borrow'd from the mafon-fide
Some, perhaps, may think him able
In the ftate to build a Babel;
Could we place him in a station
To deftroy the old foundation.
True, indeed, I thould be gladder
Could he learn to mount a ladder.
May he at his latter end

Mount alive, and dead defcend.
In him tell me, which prevail,
Female vices most, or male?
Wha produc'd them, can you tell ?
Human race, or imp of hell?

Where fhining beauty makes her soft retreat,
Enjoying all thofe graces, uncontrol'd,
Which nobleft youths would die but to behold;

Added by the express direction of Dr. Johnfen; by whom they were originally appended to his life of Tickell, with this introduction: "The "two poems which follow would have been in"ferted in the Collection, if the compilers could "have obtained copies of them. To complete "the poetical works of Tickell, they are here copied from the Select Collection of Mifcellaneous poems, 1780." N.

66

§ Richard, fecond lord vifcount Lonfdale, He died of the mall pox, Dec. 1, 1713. N.

Whil

Whilst you inhabit Lowther's awful pile,
A ftructure worthy of the founder's toil;
Amaz'd we see the former * Lonsdale thine
In each defcendant of his noble line :
But moft tranfported and furpriz'd we view
His ancient glories all reviv'd in you,
Where charms and virtues join their equal grace,
Your fathe, s godlike foul, your mother's lovely
face.

Me Fortune and kind Heaven's indulgent care To famous Oxford and the Mufes bear,

Where, of all ranks, the blooming youths combine

To pay due homage to the mighty Nine,
And fnatch, with fmiling joy, the laurel crown,
Due to the learned honours of the gown.
Here I, the meanest of the tuneful throng,
Delude the time with an unhallow'd fong,
Which thus my thanks to much-lov'd Oxford pays,
In no ungrateful, though unartful lays.

Where fhall firft the beauteous fcene disclose, And all the gay variety expose?

For wherefoe er I turn my wondering eyes,
Afpiring towers and verdant groves arife,
Inmortal greens the fmiling plains array,
And mazy rivers murmur all the way.

O might your eyes behold each sparkling dome,

And freely o'er the bounteous profpect roam,
Lefsravifh'd your own Lowther you'd furvey,
Though pomp and ftate the costly seat display,
Where Art fo nicely has adorn'd the place,
That Nature's aid might feem an ufclefs grace;
Yet Nature's fimiles fuch various charms impart,
That vain and needlefs are the ftrokes of art.
In equal ftate our rifing ftructures fhine,
Fram'd by fuch rules, and form'd by fuch defign,
That here, at once furpriz'd and pleas'd, we view
Old Athens io and conquer'd in the new;
More fweet our fhades, more fit our bright abodes
For warbling Mufes and infpiring Gods.
Great Vanbrook's felf might own each artful
draught

Equal to models in his curious thought,
Nor fcorn a fabric by our plans to frame,
Or in immortal labours fing their fame;
Both ways he faves them from deftroying fate,
If he but praise them, or but imitate.

See, where the facred †Sheldon's haughty dome
Rivals the stately pomp of ancient Rome,
Whofe form, fo great and noble, feems defign'd
T'exprefs the grandeur of its founder's mind.
Here, in one lofty building, we bekoli
Whate'er the Latian pride could boast of old.
True, no dire combats feed the favage eye,
And strew the fand with fportive cruelty;

But, more adorn'd with what the muse inspires,
It far outfhines their bloody theatres.
Delightful scene! when here, in equal verse,
The youthful bards their godlike Queen rehearse,
To Churchill's wreaths Apollo's laurel join,
And fing the plains of Hockfiet and Judoign.
Next let the Mufe record our Bodley's feat §,
Nor aim at Numbers, like the fubject, great :
All hail, thou fabrick, facred to the Nine,
Thy fame immortal, and thy form divine!
Who to thy praife attempts the dangerous flight,
Should in thy various tongues be taught to write;
His verfe, like thee, a lofty dress fhould wear,
And breathe the genius which inhabits there;
Thy proper lays alone can make thee live,
And pay that fame, which first thyself didst give.
So fountains, which through fecret channels flow,
And pour above the floods they take below,
Back to their Father Ocean urge their way,
And to the fea, the ftreams it gave, repay.

No more we fear the military rage,
Nurs'd up in fome obfcure barbarian age;
Nor dread the ruin of our arts divine,
From thick-fcull'd heroes of the Gothic line,
Though pale the Romans faw thofe arms advance,
And wept their learning loft in ignorance.
Let brutal rage around its terrors spread,
The living murder, and confume the dead,
In impious fires let nobleft writings burn,
And with their authors share a common urn;
Only, ye Fates, our lov'd Bodleian spare,
Be IT, and Learning's felf fhall be your care,
Here every art and every grace thall join,
Collected Pacebus here alone fhall fhine,
Each other feat be dark, and this be all divine.
Thus when the Greeks imperial Troy defac'd,
And to the ground its fatal wall debas'd,
In vain they burn the work of hands divine,
And vow deftruction to the D-rdan line,
Whilft good ncas flies th' unequal wars,
And, with his guardian gods, lülus bears,
Old Troy for ever ftands in him alone,
And all the Phrygian kings furvive in one.
Here ftill prefides each fage's reverend shade,
In foft repofe and eafy grandeur laid;

}

heir deathlefs works forbid their fame to die, Nor time itself their perfons fhall destroy, Prefery'd within the living gallery †. What greater gift could bounteous heaven bestow, Than to be feen above, and read below? With deep refpe&t 1 bend my duteous head ;To fee the faithful likeness of the dead; But O! what Mufe can equal warmth impart ? The Painter's skill tranfcends the Poet's art. When round the pictur'd Founders I defery, With goodness foft, and great with majefty, So much of life the artful colours give, Scarce more within their Colleges they live;

And pleafing tumults combat in my foul; An-humble awe my downcaft eyes betray, And only less than adoration pay.

Sir John Vanbrugh. N. The Theatre. T.

The Bodleian Library. T. The picture Gallery. T.

Such

Such were the Roman Fathers, when o'ercome, hey faw the Gauls infult o'er conquered Rome; Each captive feem'd the haughty victor's lord, And proftrate chiefs their awful flaves ader'd.

Such art as this adorns your Lowther's hall,
Where feafting Gods caroufe upon the wall,
The near, which creating paint fupplies,
Intoxicates each pleas'd fpectator's eyes;
Who view, amaz'd, the figures heavenly fair,
And think they breathe the true Elyfian air.
With trokes fo bold, great Verrio's hand has
drawn

The Gods in dwellings brighter than their own.
Fir'd with a thoufand raptures, I behold
What lively features grac'd cach Bard of o14;
Such lips, I think, did guide his charming tongue,
In fuch an air as this the poet fung;
Such eyes as thefe glow d with the facred fire,
And hands like thefe employ'd the vocal lyre.
Quite ravish'd, I purfue ea h image o'er,
And farce admire their dethlefs labours more.
See where the gloomy Scaliger appears,
Each fhade is critick, and each feature fneers;
The artful Ben fo fmartly ftrikes the eye,
I more than fee a fancy'd ro. edy;

The muddy Scotus crowns the motley fhew,
And metaphyficks cloud his wrinkled brow;
But diftant awe invades my beating breaft,
To fee great Ormond in the paint expreft;
With fear 1 view the figure from afar,
Which barns with noble ardeur for the war;
But near approaches free my doubting mind,
To view fuch fweetnefs with fuch grandeur join'd.
Here ftudious heads the graver tablet fhews,
And there with martial warmth the pictureglows;
The blooming youth here boasts a brighter hue,
And painted virgins far outfhine the true.

Hail, Colours, which with Nature bear a ftrife,
And only want a voice to perf & life!
The wondering firanger nakes a fudden fand,
And pays low homage to the lovely band;
Within each frame a real Fair believes,
And vainly thinks the mimic canvass lives;
Til', undeceiv'd he quits th' enchanting fhew,
Pleas'd with the art though he laments it too.
So when his Juno bold Ixion woo'd,
And aim'd at pleafures worthy of a god,
A beauteous cloud was form'd by angry Jove,
Fit to invite, though not indulge his love;
The Mortal thought he faw his Goddess fhine,
And all the lying graces look d divine;
But when with heat he clafp'd her fancy'd charms,
The empty vat our baulk'd his cager arms.
Loth to depart, I leave th inviting feene,
Yet fearce forbear to view it o'er again;
Bus ftill new objects give a new delight,
And various profpects blefs the wandering fight.
Aloft in ftate the airy towers arife,

And with new luftre d. ck the wondering fkies;
to what height the fchools afcending reach,
Built with that art which they alone can teach;
The lofty dome expands her ipacious gate,
Where all the decent graces jointly wait;
In every shape the God of Art reforts,
And crouds of fages fill th' extended courts.

With wonders fraught, the bright Museum fer, Itfelf the greatest curiofity! Where Nature's choiceft treafure, all combin'd, Delight at once, and quite confound the mind; Ten thoufand fplendors ftrike the dazzled eye, And form on earth another galaxy.

Here colleges in fweet confufion rife,
There temples feem to reach their native fkies;
Spires, towers, and groves, conipole the va iss
thew,

And mingled profpecs charm the doubting view;
Who can deny their character divine,
Without reip.endent, and inipir'd within!
But, fince above my weak and artless lays,
Let their own poets fing the r equal praife.

One labour more my grateful verfe renews,
And rears aloft the low-defcending Mufe;
The building, parent of my young effays,
Afks in return a tributary praife.

Pillars Sublime bear up the learned weight,
And antique Sages tread the pompous height;
Whilt guardian Mufes fhade the happy piles,
And all around diffufe propicious inules.
Here Lancaster, adorn'd with every grace,
Stands chief in merit, as the chief in place:
To his lov d name out earlieft lays belong,
The theme at once, and patron of our fong.
Long may he o'er his much-lov'd Queen's prefide,
Our arts encourage, and our counfers guide;
Till after-ages, fill'd with glad furprize,
Behold his image all majeftic rife,
Where now in pomp a venerable band,
Princes and Queens, and holy Fathers, ftand.
Good Fgglesfield † claims homage from the eye,
And the hard stone feems foft with piety;
The mighty monarchs ftill the fame appear,
And every marble frown provokes the war;
Whilft rugged rocks, mark'd with Philippa's face,
Soften to charms, and glow with new-born grace.
A fight lefs noble did the warriors yield,
Transform'd to flatues by the Gorgon fhield
Distorting fear the coward's form confest,
And fury feem'd to heave the hero's breaft;
The hifelels rocks each various thought betray'd,
And all the foul was in the tone dilplay'd.

Too high, my verte, has been thy daring flight,
Thy fofter numbers now the groves invite,
Where filent fhades provoke the fpeaking lyre,
And chearful obj &s happy fongs infpire,
At once beflow rewards, and thoughts infufe,
Compofe a garland, and fupply a Muse.

Behold around, and fee the living green n native colours paints a blooming icene; h eternal buds no deadly inter fear, But fcorn the coideft feafon of the year; Apollo fare will blefs the happy place, Which his own Daphne condefcends to grace; For here the everlafting laurels grow, In every rotto, and on every brow, Profpects fo gay demand a Congreve's ftrains, o call the gods and nymphs upon the plains;

Queen's College Library,

Robert Egglesfield, B, D, the founder, 1340. Par

Pan yields his empire o'er the fylvan throng,
Picas'd to fubmit to his fuperior fong;
Great Denham's genius looks with rapture down,
And Spenter's fhade refigns the rural crown.
Fill'd with great thoughts, a thowfand Sages

rove,

Through every field and folitary grove;
Whole fouls, afcending an exalted height,
Out-foar the drooping Mufe's vulgar flight,
That longs to fee her darling votaries laid
Beneath the covert of fome gentle fhade,
Where purling ftreams and warbling birds confpire
To rid th' enchantment of the trembling lyre.
Bear me, fome God, to Chrift-Church, royal feat,
And lay me foftly in the green retreat,
Where Aldrich holds o'er Wit the fovereign

power.

And crowns the Poets which he taught before.
To Aldrich Britain owes her tuneful Boyle,
The nobleft trophy of the conquer'd ifle;
Who adds new warmth to our poetic fire,
And gives to England the Hibernian lyre.
Philips, by Phoebus and his Aldrich taught,
Sings with that heat wherewith his Churchill
fought,

Unfetter'd. in great Milton's frain he writes,
Like Milton's angels whilft his hero fights;
Purfues the Bard, whilft he with honour can,
Equals the Poet, and excels the man.

O'er all the plains, the ftreams, and woods around,

The pleafing lays of fweeteft Bards refound;
A faithful echo every note returns,
And liftening River-Gods neglect their urns.
When Codrington and Steele their verfe unrein,
And form an easy, unaffected ftrain,

A double wreathe of laurel binds their brow,
As they are poets and are warriors too.
Trapp's lofty fcenes in gentle numbers flow,
Like Dryden great, as foft as moving Rowe.
When youthful Harrifon,† with tuneful skill,
Makes Woodstock Park fcarce yield to Cooper's

Hill;

Old Chaucer from th' Elyfian Fields looks down,
And fees at length a genius like his own;
Charm'd with his lays, which reach the fhades be-

low

Tair Rofamonda intermits her woe,
Forgets the anguish of an injur'd foul,
The fatal poignard, and invenom'd bowl.

Apollo fmiles on Magd'len's peaceful bowers,
Perfumes the air, and paints the grot with flowers,
Where Yalden learn'd to gain the myrtle crown,
And every Mufe was fond of Addifon.
Applauded man! for weightier truft defign'd,
For once difdain not to unbend thy mind:
Thy mother Ifis and her groves rehearse,
A fubject not unworthy of thy verfe;
So Latian Fields will ceafe to boat thy praise,
And yield to Oxford, painted in thy lays:
And when the age to come, from envy free,
What thou to Virgil giv'ft fhall give to thee,
*The great benefactor to All-fouls College. N.
Of whom, fee Sele& Collection.

Ifis, immortal by the Poet's fkill,

66

Shall, in the fmooth defcription, murmur still †;” New beauties fhall adorn our sylvan scene, And in thy numbers grow for ever green. Danby's fam'd gift fuch verfe as thine requires, Exalted raptures, and celeftial fires; Apollo here fhould plenteously impart, As well his finging, as his curing art; Nature herfelf the healing garden loves, Which kindly her declining strength improves, Baffles the ftroke of unrelenting death, Can break his arrows, and can blunt his teeth. How fweet the landfkip! where, in living trees, Here frowns a vegetable Hercules! There fam'd chilles learns to live again, And looks yet angry in the mimic scene; Here artful birds, with blooming arbours fhew, Seem to fly higher, whilft they upwards grow, From the fame leaves both arms and warriors rife, And every bough a different charm fupplics.

So when ou. world the great Creator made, And, unadorn'd, the fluggish chaos laid, Horror and Beauty own'd their fire the fame, And Form itfelt from Parent Matter came, That lumpish mals alone was fource of all, And Bards and Themes had one original.

In vain the groves demand my longer stay, The gentle His wafts the Mule away; With eafe the river guides her wandering ftream, And haftes to mingle with uxorious Thame, Attempting Poets on her banks lie down, And quaff, infpir'd, the bitter Helicon, Harmonious fireams adorn their various themes, Sweet as the banks, and flowing as the ftreams. Blefs'd we, whom bounteous Fortune here has

thrown,

And made the various bleffings all our own!
Nor crowns, nor globes, the pageantry of late,
Upon our humble, eafy flumbers wait;
Nor aught that is Ambi ion's lofty theme
Disturbs our fleep, and guilds the gaudy dream.
Touch'd by no ills which vex th' unhappy great,
We only read the changes in the ftate,
Triumphant Marlborough's arms at diftance hear,
And learn from Fame the rough events of war;
With pointed rhymes the Gallic tyrant pierce,
And make the cannon thunder in our verse

See how the matchlefsyouth their hours improve,
And in the glorious way to knowledge move!
Eager for fame, prevent the rifing fun,
And watch the midnight labours of the moon.
Not tender years their bold atte opts reftrain,
Who leave dull time, and haften into man,
Pure to the foul, and pleafing to the eyes,
Like angels youthful, and like angels wife.

Some learn the mighty deed of ages gone, And, by the lives of her es, form their own; Now viewthe Granique choak dwith heaps of flain, And warring worlds on the Phatfalian plain;

Letter from Italy, by Mr. Addifon. T.

The Phyfic garden at Oxford. This hint was happily taken up in 1713, by Dr, Evans. See Select Collection, 1780.

Now