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Her public wounds bound up, her credit high,
Her commerce spreading sails in ev'ry sky,
The pleasing scene recalls my theme again,
And 'shows the madness of ambitious men,
Who, fond of bloodshed, draw the murd'ring
sword,

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And burn to give mankind a single lord.

The follies past are of a private kind,
Their sphere is small, their mischief is confin'd:
But daring men there are (awake my Muse!
And raise thy verse) who bolder phrenzy choose;
Who, stung by glory, rave and bound
away;
The world theirfriend, and human kindtheir prey.
The Grecian chief, th' enthusiast of his pride,
With Rage and Terror stalking by his side,
Raves round the globe; be soars into a god!
Stand fast, Olympus! and sustain his nod.
The pest divine in horrid grandeur reigns,
And thrives on mankind's miseries and pains.
What slaughter'd hosts! what cities in a blaze!
What wasted countries! and what crimson seas!
With orphans' tears his impious bowl o'erflows,
And cries of kingdoms lull him to repose.

And cannot thrice ten hundred years unpraise
The boist'rous boy, and blast his guilty bays?
Why want we then encomiums on the storm,
Or famine, or volcano? they perform
Their mighty deeds; they, hero-like, can slay,
And spread their ample deserts in a day.
O great alliance! O divine renown!
With dearth and pestilence to share the crown.
When men extol a wild destroyer's name,
Earth's Builder and Preserver they blaspheme.
One to destroy is murder by the law;
And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe.
To murder thousands take a specious name,
War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame.
When after battle I the field have seen [men,
Spread o'er the ghastly shapes, which once were
A nation crush'd! a nation of the brave!
A realm of death! and on this side the grave!
Are there, said I, who from this sad survey,
This human chaos, carry smiles away?
How did my heart with indignation rise!
How honest nature swell'd into my eyes!
How was I shock'd, to think the hero's trade
Of such materials fame and triumph made!

How guilty these! yet not less guilty they
Who reach false glory by a smoother way;
Who wrap destruction up in gentle words,
Andbows, andsmiles,morefatal thantheirswords;
Who stifle nature, and subsist on art;
Who coin the face, and petrify the heart;
All real kindness for the show discard,
As marble polish'd and as marble hard;
Who do for gold what Christians do thro' grace,
With open arms their enemies embrace;"
Who give a nod when broken hearts repine;
The thinnest food on which a wretch can dine,"
Or if they serve you, serve you disinclin'd;
And in their height of kindness are unkind.
Such courtiers were, and such again may be,
Walpole, when men forgot to copy thee.
Here cease, my Muse! the catalogue is writ,
Nor one more candidate for fame admit ;

Tho' disappointed thousands justly blame
Thy partial pen, and boast an equal claim,
Be this their comfort fools omitted here
May furnish laughter or another year.
Then let Crispino, who was ne'er refus'd
The justice yet of being well abus'd,
With patience wait, and be content to reign
The pink of puppies in some future strain;

Some future strain, in whichthe Muse shalltell
How science dwindles, and how volumes swell;
How commentators each dark passage shun,
And hold their farthing candle to the sun;
How tortur'd texts to speak our sense aremade,
And ev'ry vice is to the scripture laid;

How miserssqueezea young volumptuous peer,
His sins to Lucifer not half so dear;

How Versus is less qualified to steal
With sword and pistol, than with wax and seal;
How lawyers' fees to such excess are run,
That clients are redress'd till they 're undone;
How one man's anguish is another's sport,
And ev'n denials cost us dear at court;
How man eternally false judgements makes,
And all his joys and sorrows are mistakes.

This swarm of themes that settles on my pen,
Which I, like summer-flies, shake off again,
Let others sing; to whom my weak essay
But sounds a prelude, and points out their prey.
That duty done, I hasten to complete
My own designs; for Tonson's at the gate.

The love of fame, in its effects survey'd,
The Muse; has sung be now the cause display'd,
Since so diffusive and so wide its sway,
What is this Pow'r whom all mankind obey?

Shot from above, by Heav'ns indulgence came
This gen'rons ardor, this unconquer'd flame,
To warm, to raise, to deify mankind,
Still burning brightest in the noblest mind.
By large-soul'd men, for thirst of fame renown'd,
Wise laws were fram'd, and secret arts were
found;

Desire of praise first broke the patriot's rest,
And made a bulwark of the warrior's breast;
It bids Argyle in fields and senates shine:
What more can prove its origin divine?

But, oh! this passion planted in the soul,
On eagles wings to mount her to the pole,
The flaming minister of virtue meant,
Set

up false gods, and wrong'd her high descent,
Ambition, hence, exerts a doubtful force,
Of blots and beauties an alternate source;
Hence Gildon rails, the raven of the pit,
Who thrives upon the carcases of wit:
And in art-loving Scarborough is seen
How kind a patron Pollio might have been.
Pursuit of fame with pedants fills our schools,
And into coxcombs burnishes our fools;
Pursuit of fame makes solid learning bright,
And Newton lifts above a mortal height:
That key of nature, by whose wit she clears
Her long, long secrets of five thousand
years.

Would you then fully comprehend the whole
Why, and in what degrees, Pride sways the soul?
(For, tho' in all not equally she reigns)
Awake to knowledge, and attend my strains.

Ye

Ye doctors! hear the doctrine I disclose,
As true as if 'twere writ in dullest prose;
As if a letter'd dunce had said, " 'tis right,"
And imprimatur usher'd it to light.

To glorious deeds this passion fires the mind,
And closer draws the ties of humankind,
Confirms society; since what we prize,
As our chief blessing, must from others rise.
Ambition in the truly noble mind,
With sister-virtue is for ever join'd;
As in fam'd Lucrece, who with equal dread
From guilt, and shame, by her last conduct fled;
Her virtue long rebell'd in firm disdain,
And the sword pointed at her heart in vain;
But, when the slave was threaten'd to be laid
Dead by her side, her love of fame obey'd.

In meaner minds ambition works alone; But with such art puts virtue's aspect on, That not more like in feature, and in mien, The god and mortal in the comic scene *. False Julius, ambush'd in his fair disguise, Soon made the Roman liberties his prize,

No mask in basest minds ambition wears,
Bat in full light prick up her ass's ears;
All I have sung are instances of this,
And prove my theme unfolded, not amiss.
Ye vain! desist from your erroneous strife;
Be wise, and quit the false sublime of life.
The true ambition there alone resides,
Where justice vindicates, and wisdom guides;
Where inward dignity joins outward state,
Our purpose good, as our achievement great;
Where public blessings public praise attend,
Where glory is our motive, not our end. [view,
Wouldst thou be fam'd? have those high deeds in
Brave men would act, tho' scandal should ensue.
Behold a prince whom no swoln thoughts in-
Aame:

No pride of thrones, no fever after fame;
But when the welfare of mankind inspires,
And death in view to dear-bought glory fires,
Proud conquest then, then regal pomps delight:
Then crimes, then triumphs, sparkle in his sight;
Tumult and noise are dear, which with them bring
His people's blessings to their ardent king:
But, when those great heroic motives cease,
His swelling soul subsides to native peace;
From tedious grandeur's faded charms withdraws,
A sudden foe to splendor and applause,
Greatly deferring his arrears of fame,
Till men and angels jointly shout his name.
O pride celestial, which can pride disdain !
O blest ambition, which can ne'er be vain!

From one fam'd Alpine hill, which props the
In whose deep womb unfathom'd waters lie, [sky,
Here burst the Rhone and sounding Po,there shine
In infant rills the Danube and the Rhine;
From the rich store one fruitful urn supplies,
Whole kingdoms smile, a thousand harvests rise.
In Brunswick such a source the Muse adores,
Which public blessings thro' half Europe pours,

Amphytrion.

When his heart burns with such a god-like aim
Angels and George are rivals for the fame;
George, who in foes can soft affections raise,
And charm envenom'd Satire into praise.

Nor human rage alone his pow'r perceives,
But the mad winds and the tumultuous wayest.
Even storms (death's fiercest ministers!) forbear,
And, in their own wild empire, learn to spare.
Thus nature's self, supporting man's decree,
Styles Britain's Sovereign, Sovereign of the Sea,
While sea and air, great Brunswick! shook our

state,

And sported with a king's and kingdom's fate,
Depriv'd of what she lov'd, and press'd with fear
Of ever losing what she held most dear,
How did Britannia, like Achillest, weep,
And tell her sorrows to the kindred deep!
Hang o'er the floods, and in devotion warm,
Strive for thee with the surge, and fight the
storm!

What felt thy Walpole, pilot of the realm?
Our Palinurus & slept not at the helm,
His eyes ne'er clos'd; long since inur'd to wake,
And outwatch ev'ry star, for Brunswick's sake,
By thwarting passions tost, by cares opprest,
He found thy tempest pictur'd in his breast.
But now what joys that gloom of heart dispel,
No pow'rs of language-but his own, can tell;
His own, which Nature, and the Graces form,
At will to raise or hush the civil storm.

$52. The Castle of Indolence. An Allegorical Poem. THOMSON.

The Castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!

We liv'd right jollily.

O MORTAL man, who livest here by toil,
Do not complain of this thy hard estate :
That like an emmet thou must ever moil,
Is a sad sentence of an antient date;
And, certes, there is for it reason great;
For, tho'sometimes it makes thee weepandwail,
And curse thy star, and early drudge and late;
Withouten that would come an heavier bale,
Loose life, unruly passions, and diseases pale.
In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,

With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,
A most enchanting wizard did abide,
Than whoma fiend more fell is no where found.
It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground:
And there a season atween June and May,
Half prankt with spring, with summer half
imbrown'd,

A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, Noliving wight could work,ne cared even for play. Was nought around but images of rest : Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between And flow`ry beds that shumb'rous influence kest,

The King in danger by sea. S Ecce Deus ramum Lethæo rore madentem, &c.

Hom. II. lib. 1. VIRG. 1. V.

From

From poppies breath'd; and beds of pleasant|

green,

Where never yet was creeping creature seen Meantime unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd,

And hurled every where their waters sheen; That, as they bicker'd thro' the sunny glade, Tho' restless still themselves, a lulling murmur

made.

Join'd to the prattle of the parling rills Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud-bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale; And now and then sweet Philomelwouldwail, Or Stock-doves 'plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep: Yet all these sounds yblent inclin'd all to sleep. Full in the passage of the vale above,

A sable, silent, solemn forest stood; [move, Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to As idleness, fancied in her dreaming mood: And up the hills on either side a wood Of blackening pines, ay waving to and fro, Sent forth a sleepy horror thro' the blood; And where this valley winded out below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.

A pleasing land of drowsy head it was,

Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer sky; There eke the soft delights that witchingly Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast, And calm the pleasures, always hover'd nigh, But whate'er smack'd of noyance, or unrest, Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious nest. The landscape such, inspiring perfect ease, Where Indolence (for so the wizard bight) Close hid his castle 'mid embow'ring trees, That halfshutoutthebeams of Phoebus bright, And made a kind of checquer'd day and night: Meanwhile, unceasing at the inassy gate, Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked wight Was plac'd; and, to his lute, of cruel fate And labor harsh complain'd, lamenting man's

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What youthful bride can equal her array “Who can with her for easy pleasure vie? "From mead to meadwith gentlewing to stray, "From flow'r to flow'r on balmy gales to fly, "Is all she hath to do beneath the radiant sky. "Behold the merry minstrels of the morn, "The swarming songsters of the carelessgrove, Ten thousand throats! that from the flower"ing thorn

"Hymn their good God, and carolsweetoflore, "Such grateful kindly raptures them emove: "They neither plough nor sow; ne, fit for flail, "E'er to the barn the nodding sheaves they "drove ;

"Yet theirs each harvest dancing in the gale, "Whatever crowns the hill, or smiles along the "Vale.

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"Outcast of nature, man! the wretched thrall "Of bitter-dropping sweat, of sweltry pain, "Of cares that eat away thy heart with gall, "And of the vices, an inhuman train, "That all proceed from savage thirst of gain: "For when hard-hearted interest first began "To poison earth, Astrea left the plain; "Guile, violence, and murder, seis'd on man, And, for soft milky streams, with blood the "rivers ran.

"Come ye who still the cumbrous load of life "Push hard up hill; but, as the farthest steep "You trust to gain, and put an end to strife, "Down thunders back the stone with mighty

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"sweep,

"And hurls your labors to the valley deep, "For ever vain; come, and withouten fee I in oblivion will your sorrows steep, "Your cares, your toils; will steep you in a sea "Of full delight: oh coine, ye weary wights to "me!

"With me you need not rise at early dawn, “To pass the joyless day in various sounds; "Or, louting low, on upstart fortune fawn, "And sell fair honor for some paltry pounds: "Or thro' the city take your dirty rounds, “To cheat, and dun, and lie, and visit pay, "Now flattering base, now giving secret "wounds;

"Or proul in courts of law for human prey, "In venal senate thieve, or rob on broad highway.

66

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"No cocks with me to rustic labor call, "From village on to village sounding clear; "To tardy swains no shrill'd-voic'd matrons squall; [ear; "No dogs, no babes, no wives, to stun your "No hammers thump; no horrid blacksmith [start, "No noisy tradesmen your sweet slumbers "With sounds that are a misery to hear: "But all is calm, as would delight the heart "Of Sybarite of old, all nature and all art. "Here nought but candor reigns, indulgent [down.

fear;

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ease,

"Good-natur'd lounging, saunt'ring up and

They

"They who are pleas'd themselves must always please;

66

"On others ways they never squint a frown, Nor heed what haps in hamlet or in town. “Thus, from the source of tender indolence, "With milky blood the heart is overflown, "Is sooth'd and sweeten'd by the social sense: "For int'rest, envy, pride, and strife are banish'd hence.

"What, what is virtue, but repose of mind? "A pure ethereal calm, that knows no storm; "Above the reach of wild ambition's wind, "Above those passions that this world deform, "And torture man, a proud malignant worm! But here instead, soft gales of passion play, "And gently stir the heart, thereby to form "A quicker sense of joy; as breezes stray "Across th' enliven❜d skies, and make them "still more gay.

"The best of men have ever lov'd repose; "They hate to mingle in the filthy fray; "Where the soul sours, and gradual rancor "grows,

"Embitter'd more from peevish day to day. "Ev'n those whom fame has lent herfairestray, "The most renown'd of worthy wights of yore, "From a base world at last have stol'n away. "So Scipio, to the soft Cumæan shore "Retiring, tasted joy he never knew before. "But if a little exercise you choose,

"Some zest for ease, 'tis not forbidden here. "Amid the groves you may indulge the Muse; "Or tend the blooms, and deck the vernal

"year;

"Or softly stealing, with your watery gear,

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Along the brooks, the crimson-spotted fry "You may delude: the whilst amus'd you hear "Now the hoarse stream, and now the ze"phyr's sigh,

"Attuned to the birds and woodland melody. "O grievous folly! to heap up estate, "Losing the days you see beneath the sun; "When,sudden,comes blindunrelentingfate, "And gives the untasted portion you have won "With ruthless toil, and many a wretch un"done, [reign, "To those who mock you gone to Pluto's "There with sad ghosts to pine, and shadows

"dun:

"But sure it is of vanities most vain, [tain." "To toil for what you here untoiling may ob

Heceas'd. Butstill theirtremblingearsretain'd The deep vibrations of his 'witching song; That by a kind of magic pow'r constrain'd To enter in, pell-mell, the list'ning throng. Heapspour'donheaps, andyetthey slipp'd along. In silent ease; as when beneath the beam Of summer moons, the distant woods among, Or by some flood all silver'd with the gleam, The soft embodied fays thro' airy portal stream. By the smooth demon so it order'd was, And here his baneful bounty first began:

Tho' some there were who would not further And his alluring baits suspected han. [pass, The wise distrust the too fair spoken man; Yet through the gate they cast a wishful eye Not to move on, forsooth, is all they can; For, do their very best, they cannot fly; But often each way look, and often sorely sigh. When this the watchful wicked wizard saw, Withsuddenspringheleap'duponthemstraight, And, soon as touch'd by his unhallow'd paws They found themselves within the cursed gate; Full hard to be repass'd, like that of fate. Not stronger were of old the giant crew Who sought to pull high Jove from regal state; Certes, who bides his grasp, will that encounter Tho' feeble wretch he seem'd of sallow hue,

rue.

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Wak'd by the crowd, slow from his bench arose A comely full-spread porter, swoln with sleep; His calm, broad, thoughtless aspect breath'd repose,

And in sweet torpor he was plunged deep,
He could himself from ceaseless yawning keep:
While o'er his eyes the drowsy liquor ran,
Thro' which his half-wak'd soul would
faintly peep.

Androus'dhimselfasmuchas rouse himself he can.
Then taking his black staff, he call'd his man,
The lad leap'd lightly at his master's call,
He was, to weet, a little roguish page,
Save sleep and play who minded not at all,
Like most the untaught striplings of his age.
This boy he kept each band to disengage,
Garters, and buckles, task for him unfit,
But ill-becoming his grave personage,
And which his portly paunch would not
this same limber page to all performed it.
permit;
Meantime the master-porter wide display'd
Great store of caps, of slippers, and of gowns;
Wherewith he those who enter'd in array'd,
Loose as the breeze that plays along the downs,
And waves the summer-woods when evening
frowns.

So

O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But ev'ry flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And heightens ease with grace. This done,
right fain,

Sir porter sat him down, and turn'd to sleep again.
Thus easy rob'd, they to the fountain sped,
That in the middle of the court up-threw
A stream, high spouting from its liquid bed,
And falling back again in drizzly dew:
There

There each deep draughts, as deep he thirsted drew.

It was a fountain of Nepenthe rare (grew, Whence, as Dan Homer sings, huge pleasaunce And sweet oblivion of vile earthly care; Fair gladsome waking thoughts, and joyous dreams more fair.

This rite perform'd, all inly pleas'd and still, Withouten tromp was proclamation made:

Ye sons of Indolence, do what you will; And wander where you list,thro' hallorglade! "Be no man's pleasure for another's staid; "Let each as likes him best his hours employ; "And curs'd be he who minds his neigh

"bour's trade!

"Here dwells kind ease and unreproving joy: "He little merits bliss who others can annoy." Straight of these endless nuinbers, swarming round,

As thick as idle motes in sunny ray, Not one eftsoons in view was to be found, But ev'ry man stroll'd off his own glad way. Wide o'er this ample court's blank area, With all the lodges that thereto pertain'd, No living creature could be seen to stray; While solitude and perfect silence reign'd: So that to think you dream'd you almost was constrain'd.

As when a shepherd of the * Hebrid Isles, Plac'd far amid the melancholy main, (Whether it be lone fancy hini beguiles, Or that aërial beings sometimes deign To stand, embodied, to our senses plain) Sees on the naked hill, or valley low, The whilst in ocean Phoebus dips in wain, A vast assembly moving to and fro: Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrous show.

Ye gods of quiet and of sleep profound, Whose soft dominion o'er this castle sways, And all the wildly silent places round, Forgive me if my trembling pen displays What never yet was sung in mortal lays. But how shall I attempt such arduous string. I who have spent my nights and nightly days In this soul-deadening place, loose loitering? Ah! how shall I for this uprear my moulted wing? Come on, my Muse, nor stoop to low despair Thou imp of Jove, touch'd by celestial fire! Thou yet shalt sing of war, and actions fair, Which the bold sons of Britain will inspire; Of antient bards thou yet shall sweep the lyre; Thou yet shalt tread the tragic pall the stage, Paint love's enchanting woes, the hero's ire, The sages calm, the patriot's noble rage, Dashingcorruptiondownthro'ev'ry worthless age. The doors, that knew no shrill alarming bell, Ne cursed knocker plied by villain's hand, Self-open'd into halls, where, who can tell What elegance and grandeur wide expand,

The pride of Turkey and of Persian land? Soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread, And couches stretch around in seemly band; And endless pillows rise to prop the head; So that each spacious room was one full-swelling bed.

And every where huge cover'd tables stood, With wines high flavor'd and rich viands crown'd;

Whatever sprightly juice or tasteful food On the green bosom of this earth are found, And all old ocean genders in his round: Some hand unseen these silently display'd, Ev'n undemanded by a sign or sound: You need but wish; and instantly obey'd, Fair rang'd the dishes rose, and thick the glasses play'd.

Here freedom reign'd without the least alloy; Nor gossip's tale, nor antient maiden's gall, Nor saintly spleen, durst murmur at our joy, And with envenom'd tongue our pleasures pall. For why? there was but one great rule for all; To wit, that each should work his own desire, And eat, drink, study, sleep, as it may fall, Or melt the time in love, or wake the lyre, And carol what, unbid, the Muses might inspire. The rooms with costly tapestry were hung, Where was enwoven many a gentle tale; Such as of old the rural poets sung,

Or of Arcadian or Sicilian vale:
Reclining lovers, in the lonely dale,
Pour'd forth at large the sweetly tortur'd heart,
Or, sighing tender passion, sweld the gale,
And taught charni'd'echotoresoundtheir smart;
While flocks, woods, streams, around repose
and peace impart.

Those pleas'd the most, where, by a cunning
Depainted was the patriarchal age; [hand,
WhattimeDan Abraham left the Chaldeeland,
And pastur'd on from verdant stage to stage,
Where fields and fountains fresh could best
engage.

Toil was not then. Of nothing took they heed,
But with wild beasts the sylvan war to wage,
And o'er vast plains their herds and flocks to

feed:

Blest sons of Nature they! true golden age indeed! Sometimes the pencil, in cool airy halls, Bade the gay bloom of vernal landscapes rise, Or autumn's varied shades imbrown the walls: Now the black tempest strikes th' astonish'd

eyes;

Now down the steep the flashing torrent flies;
The trembling sun now plays o'er ocean blue,
And now rude mountains frown amid the skies;
Whate'er Lorrain light-touch'd with softning
hue

Or savage rosa dash'd, or learned Poussin drew.
Each sound too here to languishment inclin'd,
Lull'd the weak bosom, and induced case,

Those islands on the western coast of Scotland, called the Hebrides.

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