« ПредишнаНапред »
Then Maurus in his proper sphere might shine,
And these proud numbers grace great William's sign,
* This is the man, this the Nassovian, whom
I nam'd the brave deliverer to come.
But now the driving gales suspend the rain,
We mount our steeds, and Devon's city gain,
Hail, happy native land! But I forbear,
What other counties must with envy hear.
Occasioned by the arrival of her
ADAM, to all your censures I submit,
And frankly own I should long since have
You told me, filence would be thought a crime,
And kindly strove to teaze me into rhyme:
No more let trifling themes your muse employ,
Nor lavish verse to paint a female toy;
No more on plains with rural damsels sport,
But sing the glories of the British court.
By your commands and inclination sway'a,
I call'd th' unwilling muses to my aid;
Resolv'd to write, the noble theme I chose,
And to the Princess thus the poem rofe.
Aid me, bright Phæbus; aid, ye facred nine:
Exalt my genius, and my verse refine.
My strains with Carolina's name I grace,
The lovely parent of our Royal race.
Breath soft, ye winds, ye waves, in silence pleep;
Let profp rous breezes wanton o'er the deep,
Swell the white fails, and with the ftreamers play,
To waft her gently o'er the watry way.
Here I to Neptune form'd a pompous pray'r,
To rein the winds, and guard the royal fair;
Bid the blue Tritons found their twisted fhells,
And call’d the Nereids from their pearly cells.
Thus my warm zeal had drawn the muse along Yet knew no method to conduct her fong: 'I then refolv'd fome model to pursue, Perus’d French criticks, and began anew.
Long open panegyrick drags at beft,
And praise is only praife when well address'd.
Strait, Horace for some lucky Ode I fought:
And all along I trac'd him thought by thought:
This new performance to a friend I fhow'd;
For shame, says he, what imitate an Ode!
I'd rather ballads write, and Grubftreet lays,
Than pillage Cafar for my patron's praise :
One common fate all imitators share,
To save mince-pyes, and cap the grocer's ware.
Vex'd at the charge, I to the flames commit
Rhymes, fimilies, lord's names, and ends of wit;
In blotted stanza's scraps of odes expire,
And fuftian mounts in pyramids of fire.
Ladies, to you I next inscrib'd my lay,
And writ a letter in familiar way:
For still impatient till the Princess came,
You from description with'd to know the dame.
Each day my pleasing labour larger grew,
For still new graces open'd to my view.
Twelve lines ran on to introduce the theme,
And then I thus pursu'd the growing scheme.
Beauty and wit were fure by nature join'd,
And charms are emanations of the mind;
The foul transpiercing through the shining frame,
„Forms all the graces of the Princely Dame:
Benevolence her conversation guides,
Smiles on her cheek, and in her eye resides.
Such harmony upon her tongue is found,
As sofiens English to Italian found:
Yet in those founds such sentiments appear,
As charm the judgment, while they footh the ear.
Religion's chearful flame her bosome warms, Calms all ber hours, and brightens all her charms. Henceforth, ye fair, at Chapel mind your pray'rs, Nor catch
eyes with artful airs; Reftrain your laoks, kneel more and whisper less, Nor most devoutly criticize on dress.
From her form alt your characters of life,
The tender mother, and the faithful wife.
Oft have I seex her little infant train,
The lovely promise of a future reign;
Observ'd with pleasure evary dawning grace,
And all the mother op'ning in their face:
The fon Mall add new honours to the line,
And early with paternal virtues shine.'
When be the sale of Audenard repeats,
His little heart with emulation beats ;