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TO MR. ADDISON,
Had not your Mufe in her immortal strain,
Describ’d the glorious toils on Blenheim's plain, OCCASIONED BY KIS PURCHASING AN ESTATE Ev’n Marlborough might have, fought, and
Dormer bled in vain. "En erit unquam
When honour calls, and the just cause inspires, « Ille dies, mihi cum liceat tua dicere facta !
Britain's bold fons to emulate their fires; * En erit, ut liceat totum mihi ferre per orbem,
Your Muse these great examples thall supply, * Sola Sophocleo sua carmina digna cothurno !"
Like that to conquer, or like this to die.
Contending nations ancient Homer claim,
And Mantua glories in her Maro's name; O the gay town where guilty pleasurereigns, Our happier toil the prize shall yield to none, The wise good man prefers our humble Ardenna’s groves fall boast an Addison. plains:
Ye lilvan powers, and all ye rural sods, Negle&ted honours on his merit wait,
That guard these peaceful shades, and bles Hre he retires when courted to be
abodes; The world resizning for this calm retreat. For your new zuelt your choicest gifts prepare, Hissoul with wisdom's choicest treasuresfraught, Exceed his wishes, and prevent his prayer; Here proves in practice each lublimer thought,
Grant him, propitious, freedom, health, and And lives by rules his happy pen has taught.
Great Bard! how shall my worthless Muse af And as his virtues, le: his stores increase.
His lavihh hand no deity shall mourn,
To reach your praise, without your sacred fire ? The pious bard fhall make a just return;
From the judicious critic's piercing eyes,
In lasting verse eternal altars raise,
To the best-natur'd man secure the flies.
And over-pay your bounty with his praise. When panting virtue her last efforts made, Tune every reed, touch every string, yo You brought your Clio to the virgin's aid;
fwains, Pr-lumptuous Folly blund, and Vice withdrew,
Welcome the Stranger to these happy plains, To ver.geance yielding her abandon'd crew.
With hymns of joy in folemn pomp attend,
Tis true, confederate wits their forces join,
Apollo's darling, and the Muses' friend.
Parnafius labours in the work divine :
Ye there we read with too impatient eyes,
Ye nymphs, that haunt the streams and shady And hunt for you through every dark disguise;
groves, la vain your modesty that tanie conceals,
Forget a while to mourn your absent loves; Which every thought, which every word, re
in song and sportive dance your joy proclaini, veals,
In yielding blushes own your rifing flame: With like success bright Beauty's Goddess trics
Be kind, ye nymphs, nor let him figh in vain. To reil immortal charnis from mortal eyes;
Each land remote your curious eye has view'd, Her graceful port, and her celestial mien,
That Grecian arts, or Roman arms fubdu'd, To ocr brave fun betray the Cyprian queen ; Search every region, every distant foil, Odours divine perfunze her rosy breait,
With pleasing labour and intructive toil: She glides along the plain in majesty confess'd. Say then, accomplish'd Bard! What god inclin'd Hari was the talk, and worthy your great mind,
To these our humble plains your generous To please at once, and to reformn mankind :
mind? Yet, when you write, Truth charms with such Nor would you deign in Latian fields to dwell, address,
Which none know better, or describe so well. Peads Virtue's caute with such becoming grace,
In vain ambrosial fruits invite your stay, His own fond heart the guilty wretch betrays,
In vain the myrtle groves obftru&t your way, He yields delighted, and convinc'd obeys : And ductileftrcama that round the borders stray. You touch our follies with so nice a skill, Your wiser choice prefers this (pot of earth, Nature and hahit prompe in vain to ill.
Distinguish'd by th' immortal Shakespear's Nor can it lessen the Spectator's praise,
birth; That fro:n your friendly hand he wears the Where through the vales the fair Avona glides, tays;
And nourishe's the glebe with fattening tides; His creat design all ages fall commend,
Flora's rich gists dock all the verdant loil, Lue more his happy choice in such a friend. And plenty crowns the happy farmer's toil. So the fair queen of night the world relieves, Here, on the painted borders of the food, Nor at the sun's fuperior honour grieves, The babe was born; his bed with roses frow'd : Froud to reflect the glories fhe receives.
Here in an ancient venerable donie, When dark oblivion is the warrior's lot, Oppress'd with griet, we view the poet's tomb. His merits censur'd, and his wounds forgot ; Angels unseen watch o'er his hallow'd urn, When burnih'd helns and giided armour rust, And in loft elegies complaining mourn : And each proud trophy links in common duit: While the bless'd fiint, in lottier ftrains above, Fresh blooming honoursdeck the poet's brows, Reveals the wonder of eternal love. He shares the mighty bleflings he beltows, The heavens, delighted in his cuneful lays, His spreading lame enlarges di it dows.
With Glent joy attend their Maker's praise. Vol. V.
In heaven he sings; on earth your Mufe supplies
Th’important loss, and heals our weeping eyes.
Corredly great, fie niclts each flinty heart,
With equal genins, but superior art.
Hail, happy pair! ordain'd by turns to biefs,
And save a sinking nation in distress.
By great examples to reform the crowd,
Aivake their zeal, and warm their frozen blood.
When Brutus strikes for liberty and laws,
Nor spares a father in his country's causes
Justice levere applauds the cruel deed,
A tyrant suffers, and the world is freed,
But, when we see the godlike Cato blecdn
The nation weeps; and from thy fate, oh Rome!
Learns to prevent their own impending doom.
Where is the wretch' a worthless life can prize,
When Senates are no more, and Cato dies?
Indulgent forrow, and a pleasing pain,
Heaves in each breast, and beats in every vein.
Th'expiring patriot animates the crowd,
Bold they dem and their ancient rights aloud,
The dear-bonghe purchase of their father's blood.
Fair Liberty her head majettic rears,
Ten thousand bleflings in her bofoni bears ;
Serene Ne smiles, revealing all her charms,
And calls her free-born youth to glorious arms.
Faction's repellid, and grumbling leaves her prey,)
Forlorn Me fits, and dreads the fatal day,
When eastern gaies shall sweep her hopes away.
fuch ardent zeal your Muse alone could raile,
aljone seward it with immortal praise.
Ages to come shall celebrate your fame,
And rescucd Briton bless the poet's name.
So when the dreaded powers of Sparta fail'd,
Tyrtæus and Athenian wit prevail'd,
Too weak the laws by wise Lycurgus made,
And rules severe without the Muses' aid :
He touch'd the trembling strings, the poet's song
Reviv'd the faint, and made the feeble Itrong;
Recall’d the living to the dusty plain,
And to a better life restor'd the flain.
The vi&or-host amaz'd, with horror view'd
Th' assembling troops, and all the war renew'd;
To more than mortal courage quit the field,
And to their focs th' unfinilli'd trophies yield.
Bow low, ye bards, at his exalted throđe,
And lay your labours at his feet;
Capacious soul! whose boundless thoughts survey
Heaven, hell, earth, fea;
Lo! where th' çmbattled gods appear,
The mountains from their seats they tear,
And shake th’empyreal heavens with impious wa,
Yet, nor shall Milton's ghost repine
At all the honours we bestow
On Addison's deserving brow,
By whom convinc'd, we own his work divine,
Whofe skilful pen has done his merit right,
And set the jewel in a fairer light.
Enliven’d by his bright Essay
tiach flowery scene appears more gay,
New beauties spring in Eden's fertile proves,
And by his culture Paradise improves.
Garth, by Apollo doubly bless’d,
Is by the god entire possess'd :
Aze, unwilling to depart,
Begs life from his prevailing skill;
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 extensive bounty claim,
With joy the ready Muse attends,
Immortal honours she bestows,
A gift the Muse alone can give ;
She crowns the glorious victor's brows,
And bids expiring virtue live.
Nymphs yet unborn shall melt with amorousflame
That Congreve's lays inspire;
And Philips warm the gentle swains
To love and sofc defire.
Ah! hun, ye fair, the dangerous sourds,
Alas! each moving accent wounds,
The sparks conceal'd revive again
The god restor'd, resumes his reigai,
in killing joys and pleasing pain.
Thus does each bard in different garb appear,
Each Muse has her peculiar air,
And in propriety of dress becomes more fair;
To each, impartial Providence
Well-chofen gifts bestows,
He varies his munificence,
And in divided streams the heavenly bleffing
11. If we look back on ages past and gone,
When infant Time his race begun,
The distant view fill lessens to our light,
Obscur'd in clouds, and veil'd in shades of night
The Muse alone can the dark scenes display,
Enlarge the prospect, and disclose the day.
"Tis the the records of times past explores,
And the dead hero to new life restores,
To the brave man who for his country died,
Eredts a lasting pyramid,
Supports his dignity and fame,
When mouldering pillars drop his name.
In sull proportion leads her warrior forth,
Discovers his neglected worth,
What though majestic Milton stands alonc
Brighteas his deeds, by envisus ruft o'ercast, T'improve the present age, and vindicate the past. Did not the Muse our crying wrongs repeat,
Ages to come no more should know
Of Lewis by oppression great
Than we of Nimrod now :
The meteor should but blaze and dic, Depriv'd of the reward of endless infamy. Ev'o that brave chief, who see the nations free,
The greatest name the world can boast,
Without the Muse's aid shall be
Sunk in the tide of time, and in oblivion loft.
The sculptor's hand may make the marble live,
Or the bold pencil trace
The wonders of that lovely face,
Where every charm, and every grace,
That man can wish, or heaven can give,
In happy union join'd, confess
The hero born to conquer, and to bless.
Yet vain, alas! is every art,
Till the great work the Muse compleat,
And everlasting fame impart.
That soars aloft, above the reach of fate.
Hail, happy bard! on whom the gods bestow
A fenius equal to the vast design,
Whose thoughts sublime in caly numbers filow,
While Marlborough’s virtues animate cach line,
How shall our trembling souls survey
The horrors of each bloody day;
The wreaking carnage of the plain
Incumber'd with the mighty slain,
The strange variety of death,
And the sad murmurs of departing breath?
Scamander's streamsfhall yield to Danube'sflood,
To the dark bofom of the deep pursued
By Giercer flames, and stain'd with nobler blood.
The gods shall arm on either side,
Th’important quarrel to decide;
The grand event embroil the realnis above,
Ard faction revel in the court of Jove;
While heaven, and earth, and fea, and air,
Shall feel the mighty shock and labour of the war.
Virtue conceal'd obscurely dies,
Lost in the mean disguise of abject sloth, depress'd, unknown. Rough in its native bed the unwrought diamond
Till chance, or art, reveal its worth;
And call its latept glories forth;
But when its raciant charms are view'd,
Becomes the idol of the crowd,
And adds new lullre to the monarch's crown.
What British harp can lie unitrung,
When Stanhope's fame demands a song ? Upward, ye Mules, take your wanton flight,
Tune every lyre to Stanhope's praise,
Exert your most triumphant lays, Nor suffer such heroic deeds to link in endless
The golden Tagus shall forget to flow,
And Ebro leave its channel dry,
Ere Stanhope's name to time thall bow,
and lost in dark oblivion lic. Where shall thc Muse begin her airy fight?
Where first direct her dubious way;
Lost in variety of light,
And dazzled in excels of day?
Wililon and valour, probity and truth,
At once upon the labouriny fancy throng,
The conduct of old age, the fire of youth,
United in one breast perplex the poet's song.
Those virtues which dispers'd and rare
The gods too thriftily bestow'l,
And scatter'd co an.ure the crowd,
When former heroes were their care;
T'exert at once their power divine,
In thee, brave chief, collected thine.
So from each lovely bloomi g face
Th' ambitious arrilt stole a grace.
When in one finith'd piece he trove
To paint th'all-glorious Queen of Love.
Thy provident urbiafs'd mind
Knowing in arts of peace and war,
With indefatigable care,
Labours the good of hụman kind :
Erect in dangers, modest in success,
Corruption's everlasting base,
Where injur'd merit finds redress,
And worthlefs viiiains wait in vain.
Though fawning knaves besiege thy gate,
And court the honest man they hate;
Thy steady virtue charges through,
Alike unerring to fubdue,
As when on Almanara's plain the scatter'd
Vain are th' attacks of force or art,
Where C:çlar's arm dcfinds a Cato's heart.
Oh! could thy generous foul dispense Through this unrightcous age its sacred influence
Coud the base crowd from thy example learn
To trample on their impious gifts with scorn,
With ihane confounded to behold
A nation for a trifle fold,
Dejected fenates frould no more
· Their champion's ablence nourn,
Contendiny boroughs bould thy name return;
Thy boid Philippicks should restore
Britannia's wealth, and power, and fame.
Nor liberty be dein'd an empty name,
While tyrants trembled on a forcign fhore.
No swelling titles, pomp, and state,
The trappings of a magistrate,
Can dignity, a llave, or make a traitor great.
For, careless of external shew,
Sage Nature dictates whom t'obey,
And we the ready homage pay,
Which co superior gifts we owe.
Merit like thine repuls u an empire gains,
And virtue, though negle&cd, regns.
The wretch is indigent and poor,
Who brocating sita o'cr his ill getton store ;
Trembling with guilt, and haunted by his fin,
He feels the rigid judge within.
But they alone arc biefs'd, who wisely know
T'enjoy the little which the gods beftow,
Proud of their glorious wants, disdain
To barter honelty for gain;
No other ill but shame they fear,
And scorn to purchase lise too dear :
Profusely lavih of their blood,
For their dear friends or country's good, if Britain conquer, can rejoice in death. And in triumphant thouts relign their breath.
My humble Muse, among the crowd,
Her joyful Pæans sings aloud.
Could I but with Mæonian flight
Sublimely soar through fields of light,
Alove the stars thy name should thine,
Nor great Machaon's rival thine!
But father Phæbus, who has done
So much for thee his favourite son,
His other gifis on me bestows
With partial lands, nor hears my vows:
Oh! let a grateful heart supply,
What the penurious powers deny!
TO DR. MACKENZIE. THOU, whose penetrating mind,
Whose heart benevolent, and kind,
Its ever present in distress;
Glad to preserve, and proud to bless :
Oh! Icave not Arden's faithful grove,
On Caledonian hills to rove.
But hear our fond united prayer,
Nor force a county to despair
Let homicides in Warwick-lane,
With hecatombs of victims slain,
Butcher for knighthood, and for gain ;
While thou pursuest a nobler aim,
Declining interest for fame.
Wherec'er thy Maker's image dwells,'
In gilded roofs, or sinoky cells,
The fanie thy zeal: c'erjoy'd to save
Thy fellow-creature from the grave:
For well thy soul can understand
The poor man's call is God's command;
No frail, no tranfient qood, his fec;
But heaven, and bless'd eternity.
Nor are thy labours here in vain.
The pleasure over-pays the pain.
Truc happiness (if understood)
Consists alone, in doing good;
Spcak, all ye wise, can God bestow,
Or man a greater pleasure know?
See where the grateful father bows!
Histears confess how much he owes :
His son, the darling of his heart,
Restor'd by your prevailing art;
His house, his name, redeem'd by you,
His ancient honours bloom anew.
But oh! what idioms can express
The vast transcendant happiness
The faithful husband feels ? his wife,
his better half, recall'd co life:
See, with what rapture! see him view
Thc hatter'd f ame rebuilt by you!
See health rekindling in her eyes!
See baffled death give up his prize!
Tell me, my friend, canst thou forbear,
in this gay scene to claim a share ?
Docs not thy blood store swiftly flow?
Thy heart with secret transports glow?
Health, lifc, by heaven's indulgence sent,
And thou the glorious instrument !
Safe in thy art, no ills we fear, Thy hand shall plant El fium here ; Pale Sickness fhali thy triumphs own, Andr ddy health exalt her throne. The fair, renewd in all her charms, Shall fly to thy protecting arms; Wich gracious smiles repay thy care, And leave her lovers in despair. While multitudes applaud and bless Their great asylum in distress,
THE WIFE. MPERIAL Jove (as poets sung of old)
Was coupled to a more imperial fcold, A jealous, termagant, insulting jade, And more observant than a wither'd maid : She watch'd his waters with unweary'd eyes, And chac'd the god through cvery sly disguise, Out-brav'd his thunder with her louder voice, And shook the poles with everlasting neise. At midnight revels when the gollips met, He was the theme of their eternal chat: This alk'd what form great Jove would next d3
vise, And when his godship would again Taurise? That hinted at the wanton life he led With Leda, and with baby Ganynrede: Scandals and lies went merrily about, With heavenly lambs-wool and nectarial stout. Home the returns erect with luft and pride, At bed and board alike unsatisfy'd; The hen-peck'd God her angry presence fies, Or at her feet the paflive thunderer lies, In vain : still more the raves, still more the storms And heaven's high vaults echo her loud alarms: To Bacchus, merry blade, the god repairs, To drown in nectar his domestic cares, The Fury thither too pursues thc chace, Palls the rich juice, and poisons every glass; Wine, that makes cowards brave, the dying
strong, Is a poor' cordial'gainst a woman's tongue. To arms! to arms! th' impetuous Fury crics, The jolly God th’impending ruin flies: His trembling tigers hide their fearful heads, Scar'd at a fierceness which their own cxceeds; Bottles aloft like bursting bombs resound; And smoking spout their liquid ruin round; Like storms of hail the scatter'd fragments fly, Bruis'd bowls and broken glass obscure the sky; Tables, and chairs, and stools together hurld, With universal wreck check all the nether world. Such was the clamour, such grcat Jove's fur
prize, When by gigantic hands the mountains rise, To wrest his thunder, and invade the skics. Who could not envy Jove's eternal life, And wish for godhead clogg'd with such a wife? If e'er it be my wayward fate to wed, Avert, ye powers, a Juno from my bed!
Let her be foolish, ugly, crooked, old,
Let her be whore, or any thing but fcold!
With prayers incessant for my lot I crave
The quiet cuckold not the hen-peck'd slave ;
Or give me peace on earth, or give it in the
In Memory of the Rey. Mr. MOORE. Fhumble birth, but of more humble mind,
A fair and equal friend to all mankind.
Paties and fects, by fierce divisions torn,
Forget their hatred, and consent to mourn;
Their hearts unite in undillembled woe,
ini in de common stream their locrows flow.
Each part in life with equal grace he bore,
Ibliging to the rich, a fächer to the poor.
frova linful riots filently he fled,
Bat came unbidden to the fick man's bed.
Manners and men he knew, and when to press
The poor man's cause, and plead it with fuccele.
to penal laws hc str etch'd, but won by love
Is hearers' hearts, unwilling to repreve.
Phun four rebukes and harder language fạil, 7
old with a lucky jent, or merry tale,
Per fubborn souls in Virtue's causo prevail,
Whene'er he preach'd, the throng attentive flood,
Pealed with manna, and celestial fuod:
ketught them how to live and how to die;
Nor did his actions give his words the lye.
G., happy toul, fublimely take thy flight
Through to clús of æther, in long tracks of light,
Ite guckt of angels, range froin place to place,
And view thy great Redeemer face to face.
jck God eterna: source of power and love !
Who we lament on earth, give us above;
Oh! grant us our companion and vur friend,
in bliss without alloy, and without end !
But oh! my friend, I fing in vain,
No doggrel can relieve my pain ;
Since thoni art gone my heart's defire,
And heaven, and earth, and (ca con zire,
Tonake my miseries compleat;
Where shall a wretched hip retreat ?
What Thalla drooping mortaldo,
Who pincs for sunshine and for you?
If in the dark alcove I dream,
And you, or Phillis, is my theme,
While love or friendihip warnı my soul,
My fins are burning to a coal.:
If rais'd to speculations high,
I gaze the stars and spang.cd sky,
With heart devout and wonderiny eye,
Amaz'd I view ft range globcs of light,
Meteors with borrid lultre bright,
My guilty.trembliap foul affright.
To mother earth's prolific bed,
Pensive i roop my giddy head,
From thence too all my hopes are fied,
Nor flowers, nor grais, vor ihrubs appear,
Todeck the liniling inlant yer;
But blits my tender blotioms wound,
And defo acion raigns around.
If fea ward my k thoughts I bend,
O where will iny millortunes end?
My loyal foul distracted mcets
Atlainted dukes, and * Spanish ficets.
Thusjarring elements unite,
Pregnant with wron 6, and arm’d with spight,
Successive mischicks every hour
On my devoted head they pour.
Whate'er I do, wherei'er Igo,
'Tis til an endless scene of w'oc.
'Tis thus disconfolate I mouru,
I faint, I die, till thy return;
'Till thy briik wie and humorous vein,
Restore me to myself again.
Let others vajaly seek for cafe,
From Galen and Hippocrates,
I fcorn such naufcous aids as these.
Hafte then, my dear, unbrib'd attend,
The best clixir is a friend.
EPITAPH Upon HUGH LUMBER, Husbandman, IN Cottages and homely cells,
True Piety neglected dweils ; will callid to heaven, her native seat, Where the good man alone is great
t: Tis then his humble dust fall rise, 4od view his Judge with joyful eyes ; Waile haughty tyrants fhrink afraid, And call the mountains to their aid.
THE HIP. TO WILLIAM COLMORE, Esq. The Day after the great Meteor, in March 1715. THIS dismal morn, when east winds blow,
TO A LADY,
M ho made me a present of a Silver Pen.
'Tis all a grateful heart can do.
If c'er my soul the Mule inspire
With raptures and poetic fire,
Your kind munificence I ll praise,
To you a thousand altars ra se:
Jove shall defcend in goldun rain,
Or jie a swan ; but ling in vain.
Phæbus the wilty and the gay,
Shall quit the chariot of the day,
70 bulk in your superior ray.
Your charms shall every got subdue,
And every goddess envy you.
Add this but to your bounty's store,
This one great boon, Tak no more :
O gracious * An invafion from Spain was then expecled.
With face most sorrowfully grim,
And head oppress’d with wind and whim,
Grave as an owl, and just as witty,
To thee lewang my doleful ditty ;
And in mine own dull rhymes would find
Mulc to footbe my refless nind :