Dafhing the fpumy waves with equal oars, And spreading all their shrouds: the makes the 125
Inviting every gale, nor yet forgets
To clear her deck, and tell th' infulting foe, In peals of thunder, Britons cannot fear. So flies the hern purfu'd, but fighting flies. Warm grows the conflict, every nerve's employ'd; Now through the yielding element they foar, Afpiring high, then fink at once, and rove In tracklefs mazes through the troubled fky. No reft, no peace. The falcon hovering flies Balanc'd in air, and confidently bold Hangs o'er him like a cloud, then aims her blow 135 Full at his deftin'd head. The watchful hern Shoots from her like a blazing meteor fwift That gilds the night, eludes her talons keen And pointed beak, and gains a length of way. Obferve th' attentive crowd; all hearts are fix'd On this important war, and pleasing hope Glows in each breaft. The vulgar and the great, Equally happy now, with freedom share The common joy. The fhepherd-boy forgets 145 His bleating care; the labouring hind lets fall His grain unfown; in tranfport loft, he robs Th' expecting furrow, and in wild amaze The gazing village point their eyes to heaven. Where is the tongue can speak the falconer's cares, "Twixt hopes and fears, as in a tempeft toft? His fluttering heart, his varying cheeks confefs His inward woe. Now like a wearied stag, That stands at bay, the hern pro okes their rage; Clofe by his languid wings, in downy plumes 155 Covers his fatal beak, and cautious hides The well-diffembled fraud. The falcon darts 1ike lightning from above, and in her breaft Receives her latent death; down plump fhe fails Bounding from earth, and with her trickling gore Defiles her gaudy plumage. See, alas! The falconer in defpair, his favourite bird Dead at his feet, as of his dearest friend He weeps her fate; he meditates revenge, He ftorms, he foams, he gives a loose to rage: Nor wants he long the means; the hern fatigu'd, Borne down by numbers yields, and prone on
He drops: his cruel foes wheeling around Infult at will. The vengeful falconer flies Swift as an arrow fhooting to their aid; Then muttering inward curfes breaks his wings, And fixes in the ground his hated beak; Eces with malignaut joy the victors proud Smear'd with his blood, and on his marrow feaft. Unhappy bird! our father's prime delight! Who fenc'd thine eyrie round with facred laws. Nor mighty princes now difdain to wear Thy waving creft, the mark of high command, With gold, and pearl, and brilliant gems adorn'd. Now, if the crystal stream delight thee more, Sportfman, lead on, where through the reedy
Th' infinuating waters filter'd ftray
In many a winding maze The wild-durk there Gluts on the fattening oufe, or steals the fpawn Of teeming fhoals, her 'more delicious feaft. 185
Sport wanton, and amuse our wondering eyes How do the fun-beams on the glassy plain With varioufly-reflected changing rays! The murmuring ftream falutes the flowery mead That glows with fragrance; nature all around Confents to blefs. What fluggard now would fink His bags untold for this tranfporting scene? In beds of down? what mifer would not leave Falconer, take care, oppofe thy well-train'd fteed, And flily stalk; unhood thy falcon bold, 193 Obferve at feed the unfufpecting team Paddling with oary feet: he's leen, they fly. Now at full fpeed the falconer fpurs away T'affift his favourite hawk, fhe from the reft Has fingled out the mallard young and gay, 200 Whofe green and azure brightens in the fun. Swift as the wind that fweeps the defert plain, With feet, wings, beak, he cuts the liquid fky: Behoves him now both oar and fail; for fee Th' unequal foe gains on him as he flies. Long holds th' aerial courfe; they rife, they fall, Now fkim in circling rings, then stretch away With all their force, till at one fatal stroke The vigorous hawk, exerting every nerve, Trufs'd in mid-air bears down her captive prey, 'Tis well on earth they fall; for oft the duck The kind protecting flood: if haply then Miftrufts her coward wings, and feeks again The falcon rafh aim a decifive blow, And fpring to gripe her floating prey; at once Pops up her head fecure; then views her foe She dives beneath, and near fome ofier's root Juft in the grafping of her fond defires, And in full pride of triumph, whelm'd beneath The gliding ftream. Ah! where are now, proud bird!
Thy gioffy plumage, and thy filken crest ? Thy fately trappings, and thy filver bells, Say, tyrant of the fkies! Wouldst thou not now Exchange with thy but late defponding foe Thy dreadful talons, and thy polifh'd beak, 225 For her web-feet defpis'd? How happy they! Who, when gay pleasure courts, and fortune fmiles,
Fear the reverse, with caution tread thofe paths Where roles grow, but wily vipers creep!
These are expensive joys, fit for the great 230 Of large domains poffefs'd: enough for me To boaft the gentle fpar-hawk on my fift, Or fly the partridge from the briftly field, Retrieve the covey with my busy train, Or with my foaring hobby dare the lark.
But, if the fhady woods my cares employ, In queft of feather'd game, my spaniels beat Puzzling th' entangled copfe; and from the brake Push forth the whirring pheafant; high in air He waves his varied plumes, fretching away 240 With hafty wing. Soou from th' uplifted tube O'ertakes him; and with many a giddy whirl The mimic thunder bursts, the leaden death To earth he falls, and at my feet expires.
When autumn fmiles, all-beauteous in decay, And paints each chequer'd grove with various hues;
My fetter ranges in the new-fhorn fields,
His nofe in air erect; from ridge to ridge Panting he bounds, his quarter'd ground divides In equal intervals, nor carelefs leaves One inch untry'd. At length the tainted gales His noftrils wide inhale; quick joy elates His beating heart, which, aw'd by difcipline Severe, he dares not own; but cautious creeps Low cowering, ftep by step; at last attains His proper diftance; there he ftops at once, And points with his inftru&ive nofe upon The trembling prey. On wings of wind upborn The floating net unfolded flies; then drops, And the poor fluttering captives rife in vain. 260 Or haply on fome river's cooling bank, Patiently mufing all intent I ftand
To hook the fcaly glutton. See! down finks My cork, that faithful Monitor; his weight My taper angle bends; furpriz'd, amaz'd, He glitters in the fun, and firuggling pants Fer liberty, till in the purer air
He breathes no more. Such are our pleafing cares, And sweet amusements, fuch each bufy drudge Envioys mult with, and all the wife enjoy.
Thus, moft illuftrious Prince, have I prefum'd my obfcure fojourn to fing at eafe
Rural delights, the joy, and fweet repast
Of noble mind: and now perchance every Untimely fing; fince from yon neighbouring hore The grumbling thunder rolls; calm peace alarm'd Starts from her couch, and the rude din of war Sounds harfh in every ear. But righteous heaven! Britain deferted, friendlefs, and alone, Will not as yet defpair: fhine but in arms, O Prince, belov'd by all! patron profefs'd Of liberty! with every virtue crown'd!
I conn'd each line with joyous care, As I can fuch from fun to fun; And, like the glutton o'er his fare Delicious, thought-them too foon done. The witty smile, nature and art,
In all your numbers fo combine,
As to complete their juft defert,
And grace them with uncommon fhine. Delighted we your Mufe regard,
When he like Pindar's spreads her wings; And virtue, being its own reward, Expreffes by the Sifter Springs. Emotions tender croud the mind, When with the royal bard you go, To figh in notes divinely kind,
"The mighty fall n on mount Gilbo." Much furely was the virgin's joy,,
Who with the Iliad had your lays; For e'er, and fince the fiege of Troy, We all delight in love and praife. Thefe heaven-born paffions, fuch defire, I never yet could think a crime, But first-rate virtues which inspire
The foul to reach at the fublime.
But often men miftake the way,
And pump for fame by empty boast, Like your "gilt Afs," who food to bray, Till in a flame his tail he loft.
th' incurious Bencher" hits, With his own tail, fo tight and clean, 280 That, while I read, freams gufh, by fits Of hearty laughter, from my cen. Old Chaucer, bard of vaft ingine,
Milions fhall crowd her fraud, and her white
Ver. 103. The place where the hern takes his fand, watching his prey.
Ver. 169. This is done to prevent his hurting the hawk: they generally alfo break their legs. Ver. 172. The reward of the hawk made of the brains, marrow, and blood, which they call in Italian, Seppa.
Ver. 174. No man was permitted to fhoot within 600 yards of the eyrie, or neft of an hørn, under great penalties.
Ver. 176. The hern's top worn at coronations here, and by the great men in Afia in their turbans.
Fontaine and Prior, who have fung Blyth tales the beft; had they heard thine On Lob, they'd own'd themselves out-done. The plot's purfued with fo much glee,
The too officious "Dog and Priest," The "Squire opprefs'd," I own for me, I never heard a better jeft.
Pope well defcrib'd an Omber Game,
King revenging Captive Queen;" He merits; but had won more fame, If author of your "Bowling-green." You paint your parties, play each bowl,
30 natural, just, and with fuch ease, That, while I read, upon my fou!!
I wonder how I chance to pleafe. Yet I have pleas'd, and please the best; And fure to me laurels belong, Since British fair, and 'mongit the beft, Somervile's confort likes my fong.
Ravish'd I heard th harmonious fair Sing, like a dweller of the fky, My verfes with a Scotian air;
Then fants were not fo biest as I. In her the valued charms unite; She really is what all would feem, Gracefully handfome, wife and fweet! 'lis merit to have her cfteem.
Or faithful Ariftides, fent, For being juft, to banishment, He writ the rigid fentence down, He pitied the mifguided clown: Or him, who, when brib'd orators milled The factious tribes, to hofile Sparta fled; The vile ingrateful crowd, Proclaim'd their impious joy aloud, But foon the fools difcover'd to their coft, Athens in Alcibiades was loft. Or, if a Roman name delight thee more, The great Dictator's fate deplore, Camillus against noify faction bold, In victories and triumphs old. Ungrateful Rome!
Punish'd by heaven's averging doom, Soon fhall thy ardent vows invite him home, The mighty chieftain foon recall, To prop the falling capitol,
And fave his country from the perjur'd Gaul, Search, Mufe, the dark records of time, And every fhameful story trace, Black with injuftice and difgrace, When glorious merit was a crime; Yet thefe, all thefe, but faintly can exprefs Folly without excufe, and madness in excefs.
The nobleft object that out our eyes can blefs, Is the brave man triumphant in distress;
Above the reach of partial fate, Above the vulgar's praife or hate, Whom no feign'd fmiles can raife, no frowns deprefs.
View him, ye Britons, on the naked fhore, Refolv'd to truft your faithlefs vows no more, That mighty man! who for ten glorious years Surpafs'd our hopes, prevented all our prayers. A name, in every clime renown`d,
By nations blefs'd, by monarchs crown'd. In folemn jubilees our days we spent, Our hearts exulting in each grand event.
Factions applaud the man they hate,
And with regret, to pay their painful homage
Fly, goddefs, fly this inaufpicious place; Spurn at the vile degenerate race, Attend the glorious exile, and proclaim In other climes his lafting fame, Where honeft hearts, unknowing to forget The bleffings from his arms receiv'd, Confefs with joy the mighty debt, Their altars refcued, and their gods reliev'd. IV.
Nor fails the hero to a clime unknown, Cities preferv'd, their great deliverer own: Impatient crowds about him prefs, And with fincere devotion blefs. Those plains, of ten years war the bloody ftage, (Where panting nations ftruggled to be free And life exchang'd for liberty) Retain the marks of ftern Bellona's rage. The doubtful hind miftakes the field His fruitlefs toil fo lately till'd: Here deep intrenchments funk, and vales appear, The vain retreats of Gallic fear; There now-created hills deform the plain, Big with the carnage of the flain: Thefe monuments, when faction's spight Has fpit its poifonous foam in vain, To endlefs ages fhall proclaim The matchlefs warrior's might.
The graves of flaughter'd foes fhall do his valour right.
Thefe when the curious traveller Amaz'd fhall view, and with attentive care Trace the fad foothieps of deftructive war; Succeffive bards fhali tell,
How Marlborough fought, how gasping tyrants fell.
Alternate chiefs confefs'd the victor's fame, Pleas'd and excus'd in their fucceffor's fhame. In every change, in every form,
The Proteus felt his conquering arm : Convinc'd of weaknefs, in extreme-despair, They lurk'd behind their lines, and wag'd a lazy
Nor lines nor forts conld calm the foldier's fear, Surpriz'd he found a Marlborough there. Nature, nor art, his eager rage withstood, He meafur'd diftant plains, he forc'd the rapid flood,
He fought, he conquer'd, he pursued. In years advanc'd, with youthful vigour warm', The work of ages in a day perform'd: When kindly gleams diffolve the winter fnows From Alpine hills, with fuch impetuous hafte
The icy torrent flows;
In vain the rocks oppofe, drives along enlarg'd, and lays the region waste.
Stop, goddess, thy prefumptuous flight, Nor foar to fuch a dangerous height, Raile not the ghost of his departed fame, To pierce our confcious fouls with guilty fhame: But tune thy harp to hambler lays, Nor meditate offenfive praife.
O the gay town where guilty pleasure reigns, The wife good man prefers our humble plains:
Neglected honours on his merit wait,
Here he retires when courted to be great, The world refining for this calm retreat. His foul with wifdom's choiceft treasures fraught, Here proves in practice each fublimer thought, And lives by rules his happy pen has taught.
Great Bard how shall my worthless Muse af- pire
To reach your praife, without your facred fire? From the judicious eritic's piercing eyes, To the beft-natur'd man fecure fhe flies.
When panting virtue her last efforts made, You brought your Clio to the virgin's aid; Prumptuous Folly bluf'd, and Vice withdrew, To vengeance yielding her abandon'd crew. 'Fis true, confederate wits their forces join, Parnaffus labours in the work divine: Yet thefe we read with too impatient eyes, And hunt for you through every dark difguife; In vain your modefty that name conceals, Which every thought, which every word, re- veals,
With like fuccefs bright Beauty's Goddess tries To veil immortal charms from mortal eyes; Her graceful port, and her celestial mien, To her brave fon betray the Cyprian queen ; Odours divine perfume her rofy breait, She glides along the plain in majesty confefs'd. Hard was the talk, and worthy your great mind, To please at once, and to reform mankind: Yet, when you write, Truth charms with fuch addrefs,
Pleads Virtue's caufe with fuch becoming grace, His own fond heart the guilty wretch betrays, He yields delighted, and convinc'd obeys: You touch our follies with fo nice a skill, Nature and habit prompt in vain to ill. Nor can it leffen the Spectator's praise,
Had not your Mufe in her immortal strain, Defcrib'd the glorious toils on Blenheim's plain, Ev'n Marlborough might have, fought, and Dormer bled in vain.
When honour calls, and the juft caufe infptres, Britain's bold fons to emulate their fires; Your Mufe thefe great examples fhall fupply, Like that to conquer, or like this to die. Contending nations ancient Homer claim, And Mantua glories in her Maro's name; Our happier foil the prize fhall yield to none, Ardenna's groves fall boast an Addison. Ye filvan powers, and all ye rural gods, That guard these peaceful fhades, and bleft abodes;
For your new gueft your choiceft gifts prepare, Exceed his wishes, and prevent his prayer; Grant him, propitious, freedom, health, and peace,
And as his virtues, let his ftores increase. His lavish hand no deity fhall mourn, The pious bard fhall make a juft return; In lafting verfe eternal altars raife, And over-pay your bounty with his praise.
Tune every reed, touch every string, ye fwains,
Welcome the franger to thefe happy plains, With hymns of joy in folemn pomp attend, Apollo's darling, and the Mufes' friend.
Ye nymphs, that haunt the ftreams and shady
Forget a while to mourn your abfent loves; In fong and sportive dance your joy proclaim, In yielding blufhes own your rifing flame: Be kind, ye nymphs, nor let him sigh in vain.
Fach land remote your curious eye has view'd, That Grecian arts, or Roman arms fubdu'd, Search every region, every distant foil, With pleafing labour and instructive toil: Say then, accomplish'd Bard! What god inclin'd To thefe our humble plains your generous mind?
Nor would you deign in Latian fields to dwell, Which none know better, or defcribe fo well. In vain ambrofial fruits invite your stay,
In vain the myrtle groves obftru& your way, And ductile streams that round the borders ftray. Your wifer choice prefers this fpot of earth, Diftinguish'd by th' immortal Shakespear's birth;
That from your friendly hand he wears the Where through the vales the fair Avona glides,
His great defign all ages fhall commend, But more his happy choice in fuch a friend. So the fair queen of night the world relieves, Nor at the fun's fuperior honour grieves, Proud to reflect the glories the receives.
When dark oblivion is the warrior's lot, His merits cenfur'd, and his wounds forgot; When burnish'd helms and gilded armour ruft, And each proud trophy finks in common duft: Fresh blooming honoursdeck the poet's brows, He fhares the mighty bleflings he bestows, His spreading lame enlarges as it flows.
And nourishes the glebe with fattening tides; Flora's rich gifts deck all the verdant foil, And plenty crowns the happy farmer's toil. Here, on the painted borders of the flood, The babe was born; his bed with roses strow'd: Here in an ancient venerable dome, Opprefs'd with grief, we view the poet's tomb. Angels unfeen watch o'er his hallow'd urn, And in foft elegies complaining mourn : While the blefs'd faint, in loftier ftrains above, Reveals the wonder of eternal love. The heavens, delighted in his tuneful lays, With filent joy attend their Maker's praise. X
In heaven he fings; on earth your Muse supplies Th' important lofs, and heals our weeping eyes. Correctly great, fhe melts each flinty heart, With equal genius, but fuperior art. Hail, happy pair! ordain'd by turns to b'cfs, And fave a finking nation in diftrefs. By great examples to reform the crowd, Awake their zeal, and warm their frozen blood. When Brutus ftrikes for liberty and laws, Nor fpares a father in his country's caufe Juftice fevere applauds the cruel deed, A tyrant fuffers, and the world is freed, But, when we fee the godlike Cato bleed, The nation weeps; and from thy fate, oh Rome! Learns to prevent their own impending doom. Where is the wretch a worthlefs life can prize, When Senates are no more, and Cato dies? Indulgent forrow, and a pleasing pain, Heaves in cach breaft, and beats in every vein. Th' expiring patriot animates the crowd, Bold they demend their ancient rights aloud, The dear-bought purchase of their father's blood. Fair Liberty her head majestic rears, Ten thoufand bleffings in her bofom bears; Serene the fmiles, revealing all her charms, And calls her free-born youth to glorious arms. Faction'srepell'd, and grumbling leaves her prey,) Forlorn fhe fits, and dreads the fatal day, When eastern gaies fhall sweep her hopes away. Such ardent zeal your Mufe alone could raife, Alone reward it with immortal praise. Ages to come fhall celebrate your fame, And refcued Briton blefs the poet's name. So when the dreaded powers of Sparta fail'd, Tyrtæus and Athenian wit prevail'd, Too weak the laws by wife Lycurgus made, And rules fevere without the Mufes' aid: He touch'd the trembling ftrings, the poet's fong Reviv'd the faint, and made the feeble strong; Recall'd the living to the dufty plain, And to a better life reftor'd the flain. The victor-host amaz'd, with horror view'd Th' affembling troops, and all the war renew'd; To more than mortal courage quit the field. And to their focs th' unfinish'd trophies yield.
Bow low, ye bards, at his exalted throne, And lay your labours at his feet; Capacious foul! whofe boundless thoughts furvey Heaven, hell, earth, fea;
Lo! where the embattled gods appear,
The mountains from their feats they tear, And shake th'empyreal heavens with impious war, Yet, nor fhall Milton's ghoft repine
At all the honours we beftow
On Addison's deserving brow,
By whom convinc'd, we own his work divine, Whofe fkiiful pen has done his merit right, And fet the jewel in a fairer light.
Enliven'd by his bright Effay
Each flowery scene appears more gay, New beauties fpring in Eden's fertile groves, And by his culture Paradife improves. Garth, by Apoflo doubly blefs'd, Is by the god entire poffefs'd: Age, unwilling to depart, Begs life from his prevailing fkill; Youth, reviving from his art, Borrows its charms and power to kill : But when the patriot's injur'd fame, His country's honour, or his friends, A more extenfive bounty claim, With joy the ready Mufe attends, Immortal honours the bestows,
A gift the Mufe alone can give ;
She crowns the glorious victor's brows, And bids expiring virtue live.
Nymphs yet unborn fhall meit with amorous flames That Congreve's lays inspire;
And Philips warm the gentle fwains
To love and foft defire.
Ah! fhun, ye fair, the dangerous founds, Alas! each moving accent wounds,
The fparks conceal'd revive again The god reftor'd, refumes his reign, in ki ling joys and pleafing pain.
Thus does each bard in different garb appear, Each Mufe has her peculiar air, And in propriety of drefs becomes more fair; To sach, impartial Providence
Well-chofen gifts bestows,
He varies his munificence, And in divided ftreams the heavenly bleffing flows.
If we look back on ages paft and gone, When infant Time his race begun, The diftant view ftill leffens to our fight, Obfcur'd in clouds, and veil'd in fhades of night. The Mufe alone can the dark scenes difplay, Enlarge the profpect, and disclose the day. 'Tis the the records of times paft explores, And the dead hero to new life restores, To the brave man who for his country died, Erects a lafting pyramid,
Supports his dignity and fame, When mouldering pillars drop his name. In full proportion leads her warrior forth, Difcovers his neglected worth,
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