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THE GHOST OF THE OLD HOUSE OF COMMONS. 209

I seem'd (and did but seem) to fear the guards, THE DREAM.

And took for mine the Bethels and the Wards:

Anti-mornarchic heretics of state, To the pale tyrant, who to horrid graves

Immoral atheists, rich and reprobate: Condemns so many thousand helpless slaves,

But above all I got a little guide, Ungrateful we do gentle Sleep compare,

Who every ford of villany had try'd: Who, though his victories as numerous are,

None knew so well the old pernicious way, Yet from his slaves no tribute does he take, To ruin subjects, and make kings obey ; But woful cares that load men while they wake. And my small Jehu, at a furious rate, When his soft charms had eas'd my weary sight Was driving Eighty back to Forty-eight. Of all the baleful troubles of the light,

This the king knew, and was resolv'd to bear,
Dorinda came, divested of the scorn

But I mistook his patience for his fear.
Which the unequal'd maid so long had worn; All that this happy island could afford,
How oft, in vain, bad Love's great god essay'd Was sacrific'd to my voluptuous board.
To tame the stubborn heart of that bright maid ! In his whole paradise, one only tree
Yet, spite of all the pride that swells her mind, He had excepted by a strict decree;
The hunible god of Sleep can makc her kind. A sacred tree, which royal fruit did bear,
A rising blush increas'd the native store

Yet it in pieces I conspir'd to tear;
Of charms, that but too fatal were before.

Beware, my child! divinity is there. Once more present the vision to my view,

This so undid all I had done before, The sweet illusion, gentle Pate, renew!

I could attempt, and he endure no more; How kind, how lovely she, how ravish'd I !

My unprepar'd, and unrepenting breath,
Show me, blest god of Sleep, and let me die. Was snatch'd away by the swift hand of Death;

And I, with all my sins about me, hurl'd
To th' utter darkness of the lower world :
A dreadful place! which you too soon will see,

If you believe seducers more than me.
GHOST OF THE OLD HOUSE OF COMMONS,

THB

TO THE NEW ONE, APPOINTED TO MEET AT

OXFORD.

ON THB

From deepest dungeons of eternal night,

DEATH OF A LADY'S DOG.
The seats of horrour, sorrow, pains, and spite,
I have been sent to tell you, tender youth, Thou, happy creature, art secure
A seasonable and important truth.

From all the torments we endure;
I feel (but, oh! too late) that no disease

Despair, ambition, jealousy, Is like a surfeit of luxurious ease :

Lost friends, nor love, disquiet thee; And of all others, the most tempting things A sullen prudence drew thee hence Are too much wealth, and too indulgent kings. From noise, fraud, and impertinence. None ever was superlatively ill,

Though Life essay'd the surest wile,
But by degrees, with industry and skill :

Gilding itself with Laura's smile;
And some, whose meaning hath at first been fair, How didst thou scorn Life's meaner charms,
Grow knaves by use, and rebels by despair. Thou who could'st break from Laura's arms!
My time is past, and yours will soon begin, Poor Cynic ! still methinks I hear
Keep the first blossoms from the blast of sin; Thy awful murmurs in my ear;
And by the fate of my tumultuous ways,

As when on Laura's lap you lay,
Preserve yourselves, and bring serener days. Chiding the worthless crowd away.
The busy, subtle serpents of the law,

How fondly human passions turn!
Did first my mind from true obedience draw: What we then envy'd, now we mourn !
While I did limits to the king prescribe,
And took for oracles that canting tribe,
I chang'd true freedom for the name of free,
And grew seditious for variety :

EPILOGUE
All that oppos'd me were to be accus'd,
And by the laws illegally abus'd ;
The robe was summon'd, Maynard in the head,

ALEXANDER THE GREAT,
In legal murder none so deeply read;
I brought him to the bar, where once he stood,
Stain'd with the (yet unexpiated) blood
Of the brave Strafford, when three kingdoms rung You 've seen to-night the glory of the East,
With his accumulative hackney-tongue;

who all the then known world possest, Prisoners and witnesses were waiting by,

That kings in chains did son of Ammon call, These had been taught to swear, and those to die, And kingdoms thought divine, by treason fall. And to expect their arbitrary fates,

Him Fortune only favour'd for her sport ; Some for ill faces, some for good estates.

And when his conduct wanted her support, To fright the people, and alarm the town, His empire, courage, and his boasted line, Bedloe and Oates employ'd the reverend gown. Were all prov'd mortal by a slave's design. Bat while the triple mitre bore the blame, Great Charles, whose birth has promis'd milder sway, The king's three crowns were their rebellious aim: Whose awful nod all nations must obey,

TO

WHEN ACTED AT THE THEATRE IN DUBLIN.

The man,

Secur'd by higher powers, exalted stands

Forget not what my ransom cost, Above the reach of sacrilegious hands;

Nor let my dear-bought soul be lost,
Those miracles that guard his crowns declare, In storms of guilty terrour tost.

That Heaven has form'd a monarch worth their care; Thou, who for me didst feel such pain,
Born to advance the loyal, and depose
His

Whose precious blood the cross did stain,
bis brother's, and his father's foes.
own,
Faction, that once made diadems her prey,

Let not those agonies be vain. And stopt our prince in his triumphant way,

Thou, whom avenging powers obey, Fled like a mist before this radiant day.

Cancel my debt (too great to pay)
So when, in Heaven, the mighty rebels rose,

Before the sad accounting-day.
Proud, and resolv'd that empire to depose,
Angels fought first, but unsuccessful prov'd, Surrounded with amazing fears,
God kept the conquest for his best belov'd :

Whose load my soul with anguish bears,
At sight of such omnipotence they fly,

I sigh, I weep: accept my tears.
Like leaves before autumnal winds, and die.
All who before him did ascend the throne,

Thou, who wert mov'd with Mary's grief,
Labour'd to draw three restive nations on.

And, by absolving of the thief,
He boldly drives them forward without pain, Hast given me hope, now give relief.
They hear his voice, and straight obey the rein.
Such terrour speaks him destin'd to command;

Reject not my unworthy prayer,
We worship Jove with thunder in his hand;

Preserve me from that dangerous snare
Put when his mercy without power appears,

Which Death and gaping Hell prepare.
We slight bis altars, and neglect our prayers.
How weak in arms did civil Discord show !

Give my exalted soul a place
Like Saul, she struck with fury at her foe,

Among thy chosen right-hand race;

The sons of God, and heirs of grace.
When an immortal hand did ward the blow.
Her offspring, made the royal hero's scorn, From that insatiable abyss,
Like sons of Earth, all fell as soon as born:

Where flames devour, and serpents hiss,
Yet let us boast, for sure it is our pride,

Promote me to thy seat of bliss.
When with their blood our neighbour lands were dy'd,
Ireland's untainted loyalty remain'd,

Prostrate my contrite heart I rend,
Her people guiltless, and her fields unstain'd. My God, my Father, and my friend,

Do not forsake me in my end.
Well may they curse their second breath,
Who rise to a reviving death;
Thou great Creator of mankind,

Let guilty man compassion find !
DAY OF JUDGMENT.

ON THE

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AND ACTED AT THE THEATRE IN DUBLIN.

The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound
Shall through the rending tombs rebound,
And wake the nations under ground.
Nature and Death shall, with surprise,
Behold the pale offender rise,
And view the Judge with conscious eyes.
Then shall, with universal dread,
The sacred mystic book be read,
To try the living and the dead.
The Judge ascends his awful throne,
He makes each secret sin be known,
And all with shame confess their own.
O then! what interest shall I make,
To save my last important stake,
When the most just have cause to quake?
Thou mighty, formidable King,
Thou mercy's unexhausted spring,
Some comfortable pity bring!

The mighty rivals, whose destructive rage
Did the whole world in civil arms engage,
Are now agreed; and make it both their choice,
To have their fates determin’d by your voice.
Cæsar from none but you will have his doom,
He hates th’ obsequious flatteries of Rome:
He scorns, where once he ruld, now to be try'd,
And he hath rul'd in all the world beside.
When he the Thames, the Danube, and the Nile,
Had stain'd with blood, Peace flourish'd in this isle;
And you alone may boast, you never saw
Cæsar till

now,

and now can give bim law. Great Pompey too, comes as a suppliant here, But says he cannot now begin to fear: He knows your equal justice, and (to tell A Roman truth) he knows himself too well. Success, 'tis true, waited on Cæsar's side, But Pompey thinks he conquer'd when he died. His fortune, when she prov'd the most unkind, Chang'd his condition, but not Cato's minde

SIXTH ODE OF THE THIRD BOOK OF HORACE.

271 Then of what doubt can Pompey's cause admit, Let Crassus' ghost and Labienus tell Since here so many Catos judging sit.

How twice by Jove's revenge our legions fell, But you, bright nymphs, give Cæsar leave to woo, And, with unsulting pride, The greatest wonder of the world, but you ; Shining in Roman spoils, the Parthian victors ride. And hear a Muse, who has that hero taught

The Scythian and Egyptian scum To speak as generously, as e'er he fought;

Had almost ruin'd Rome, Whose eloquence from such a theme deters

While our seditions took their part, (dart. All tongues but English, and all pens but hers.

Fill each Egyptian sail, and wing'd each Scythian By the just Fates your sex is doubly blest, You conquer'd Cæsar, and you praise him best.

First, those flagitious times And you (illustrious sir') receive as due,

(Pregnant with unknown crimes) A present desting preserv'd for you.

Conspire to violate the nuptial bed,
Rome, France, and England, join their forces here, From which polluted head
To make a poem worthy of your ear.

Infectious streams of crowding sins began,
Accept it then, and on that Pompey's brow, And through the spurious breed and guilty nation ran.
Who gave so many crowns, bestow one now.

Behold a ripe and melting maid,

Bound 'prentice to the wanton trade,
Ionian artists, at a mighty price,

Instruct her in the mysteries of vice;
ROSS'S GHOST.

What nets to spread, where subtle baits to lay, SAAME of my life, disturber of my tomb,

And with an early hand they form the temper'd clay. Ba-e as thy mother's prostituted womb;

Marry'd, their lessons she improves Huffing to cowards, fawning to the brave,

By practice of adulterous loves, To knaves a fool, to credulous fools a knave,

And scorns the common mean design The king's betrayer, and the people's slave.

To take advantage of her husband's wine, Like Samuel, at thy necromantic call,

Or snatch, in some dark place,
I rise, to tell thee, God has left thee, Sanl.

A hasty illegitimate embrace.
I strove in vain th' infected blood to cure;
Streams will run muddy where the spring 's impure. No! the brib'd husband knows of all,
In all your meritorious life, we see

And bids her rise when lovers call;
Old Taaf's invincible sobriety.

Hither a merchant from the straits, Places of master of the horse, and spy,

Grown wealthy by forbidden freights, You (like Tom Howard) did at once supply:

Or city cannibal, repairs, From Sidney's blood your loyalty did spring,

Who feeds upon the flesh of heirs; You show us all your parents, but the king,

Convenient brutes, whose tributary flame From wbose too tender and too bounteous arins Pays the full price of lust, and gilds the slighted (Cohappy he who such a viper warms !

shame. As dutiful a subject as a son!)

'Twas not the spawn of such as these, To your true parent, the whole town, you run.

That dy'd with Punic blood the conquerd seas, Read, if you can, how th' old apostate fell,

And quash'd the stern Æacides; Out-do bis pride, and merit more than Hell:

Made the proud Asian monarch feel Both he and you were glorious and bright,

How weak his gold was against Europe's steel, The first and fairest of the sons of light:

Forc'd even dire Hannibal to yield; But when, like him, you offer'd at the crown,

And won the long-disputed world at Zama's fatal field. Like him, your angry father kick'd you down,

But soldiers of a rustic mould,
Rough, hardy, season'd, manly, bold.

Either they dug the stubborn ground, (sound.

Or through hewn woods their weighty strokes did THE SIXTH ODE

And after the declining Sun

Had chang'd the shadows, and their task was done, OF THE THIRD BOOK OF HORACE.

Home with their weary team they took their way, OF THE CORRUPTION OF THE TIMES.

And drown'd in friendly bowls the labour of the day. Those ills your ancestors have done,

Time sensibly all things impairs ; Romans, are now become your own;

Our fathers have been worse than theirs;
And they will cost yon dear,

And we than ours; next age will see
Unless you soon repair

A race more profligate than we
The falling temples which the gods provoke,

(With all the pains we take) have skill enough to be. And statues sully'd yet with sacrilegious smoke. Propitious Heaven, that rais'd your fathers high, For humble, grateful piety,

TRANSLATION
(As it rewarded their respect)

OP THE FOLLOWING VERSE FROM LUCAN.
Hath sharply punish'd your neglect;

All empires on the gols depend, [end. Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni. Begun by their command, at their command they

Tue gods were pleas’d to choose the conquering side, "To the lord lieutenant.

But Cato thought he conquer'd when he dy'd.

When you begin with so much pomp and show,
HORACE'S ART OF POETRY'. Why is the end so little and so low?

Be what you will, so you be still the same.
Scribendi rectè, sapere est et principium et fons. Most poets fall into the grossest faults,
I have seldom known a trick succeed, and will put By striving to be short, they grow obscure,

Deluded by a seeming excellence: none upon the reader ; but tell him plainly, that I And when they would write smoothly, they want think it could never be more seasonable than now to lay down such rules, as, if they be observed, Their spirits sink; while others, that affect

strength, will make men write more correctly, and judge A lofty style, swell to a tympany. more discreetly: but Horace must be read seriously, or not at all; for else the reader wont be some timorous wretches start at every blast, the better for him, and I shall have lost my la-Others, in love with wild variety,

And, fearing tempests, dare not leave the shore; bour. I have kept as close as I could, both to Draw boars in waves, and dolphins in a wood : the meaning and the words of the author, and Thus fear of erring, join'd with want of skill, done nothing but what I believe he would forgive Is a most certain way of erring still. if he were alive, and I have often asked myself

The meanest workman in th' Æmilian square, that question. I know this is a field,

May grave the nails, or imitate the hair, Per quem magnus equos Auruncæ flexit But cannot finish what he hath begun: Alumnus.

What can be more ridiculous than he? But with all the respect due to the name of Ben Where all the rest are scandalously ill

,

For one or two good features in a face, Jonson, to which no man pays more veneration Make it but more remarkably deform’d. than I, it cannot be denied, that the constraint of rhyme, and a literal translation, (to which Horace And often try what weight they can support,

Let poets match their subject to their strength, in this book declares himself an enemy) has made And what their shoulders are too weak to bear. him want a comment in many places. My chief care has been to write intelligibly; Method and eloquence will never fail

.

After a serious and judicious choice,
and where the Latin was obscure, I have added a
line or two to explain it.

As well the force as ornament of verse
I am below the envy of the critics ; but, if i And knowing when a Muse may be indulg'a

Consists in choosing a fit time for things, durst, I would beg them to remember, that Horace In her full fight, and when she should be curb’d. owed his favour and his fortune to the character given of him by Virgil and Varius ; that Fundanius You gain your point, when by the noble art

Words must be chosen, and be plac'd with skill : and Pollio are still valued by what Horace says of Of good connection, an unusual word them, and that, in their golden age, there was a Is made at first familiar to our ear. good understanding among the ingenious, and But if you write of things abstruse or new, those who were the most esteemed were the best Some of your own inventing may be us’d, natured.

So it be seldom and discreetly done:
But he, that hopes to have new words allow'd,

Must so derive them from the Grecian spring, If in a picture (Piso) you should see

As they may seem to flow without constraint. A handsome woman with a fish's tail,

Can an impartial reader discommend Or a man's head upon a horse's neck,

In Varius, or in Virgil, what he likes Or limbs of beasts of the most different kinds, In Plautis or Cæcilius? Why should I Cover'd with feathers of all sorts of birds,

Be envy'd for the little I invent, Would you not laugh, and think the painter mad! When Ennius and Cato's copious style Trust me, that book is as ridiculous,

Have so enrich'd, and so adorn'd our tongue ? Whose incoherent style (like sick men's dreams) Men ever had, and ever will have, leave Varies all shapes, and mixes all extremes.

To coin new words well suited to the age. Painters and poets have been still allow'd

Words are like leaves, some wither every year,
Their pencils, and their fancies unconfin'd. And every year a younger race succeeds.
This privilege we freely give and take;

Death is a tribute all things owe to Fate;
But Nature, and the common laws of sense, The Lucrine mole (Cæsar's stupendous work)
Forbid to reconcile antipathies,

Protects our navies from the raging north;
Or make a snake engender with a dove,

And (since Cethegus drain'd the Pontine lake) And hungry tigers court the tender lambs. We plough and reap where former ages row'd.

Some, that at first have promis'd mighty things, See how the Tiber (whose licentious waves Applaud themselves, when a few florid lines So often overflow'd the neighbouring fields) Shine through th' insipid dulness of the rest; Now runs a smooth and inoffensive course, Here they describe a temple, or a wood,

Confin'd by our great emperor's command : Or streams that through delightful meadows run, Yet this, and they, and all, will be forgot. And there the rainbow, or the rapid Rhine ; Why then should words challenge eternity, But they misplace them all, and crowd them in, When greatest men and greatest actions die! And are as much to seek in other things,

Use may revive the obsoletest words, As he, that only can design a tree,

And banish those that now are most in vogue; Would be to draw a shipwreck or a storm. Use is the judge, the law, and rule of speech.

Homer first taught the world in epic verse 1 Printed from Dr. Rawlinson's copy, corrected to write of great commanders and of kings. by the earl of Roscommon's own hand.

Elegies were at first design’d for grief,

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Though now we use them to express our joy: Begin not as th’ old poetaster did,
But do whose Muse we owe that sort of verse, * Troy's famous war, and Priam's fate, I sing.”
Is undecided by the men of skill.

In what will all this ostentation end?
Rage with iambics arm’d Archilochus,

The labouring mountain scarce brings forth a mouse: Numbers for dialogue and action fit,

How far is this from the Mæonian style? And favourites of the dramatic Muse:

Muse, speak the man, who, since the siege of Troy, Fierce, lofty, rapid, whose commanding sound So many towns, such change of manners saw.” Awes the tumultnous noises of the pit,

One with a flash begins, and ends in smoke,
And whose peculiar province is the stage.

The other out of smoke brings glorious light.
Gods, heroes, conquerors, Olympic crowns, And (without raising expectation high)
Love's pleasing cares, and the free joys of wine, Surprises us with daring miracles,
Are proper subjects for the lyric song.

The bloody Lestrygons, Charybdis' gulf,
Why is he honour'd with a poet's name, And frighted Greeks, who near the Etna shore,
Who neither knows nor would observe a rule; Hear Scylla bark, and Polyphemus roar.
And chooses to be ignorant and proud,

He doth not trouble us with Leda's egys,
Rather than own his ignorance, and learn? When he begins to write the Trojan war;
Let erery thing have its due place and time. Nor, writing the return of Diomed,
A comic subject loves an humble verse,

Go back as far as Meleager's death:
Thyestes scorns a low and comic style.

Nothing is idle, each judicious line
Yet Comedy sometimes may raise her voice, Insensibly acquaints us with the plot;
And Chremes be allow'd to foam and rail:

He chooses only what he can improve,
Tragedians too lay by their state to grieve ; And truth and fiction are so aptly mix'd,
Peleus and Telephus, exil'd and poor,

That all seems uniform, and of a piece. Forget their swelling and gigantic words.

Now hear what every auditor expects;
He that would have spectators share his grief, If you intend that he should stay to hear
Must write not only well, but movingly,

The epilogue, and see the curtain fall,
And raise men's passions to what height he will. Mind how our tempers alter in our years,
We weep and laugh, as we see others do:

And by that rule form all your characters.
He only makes me sad who shows the way, One that hath newly learn'd to speak and go,
And first is sad himself; then, Telephus,

Loves childish plays, is soon provok'd and pleasd, I feel the weight of your calamities,

And changes every hour his wavering inind. And fancy all your miseries my own:

A youth, that first casts off his tutor's yoke, But, if you act them ill, I sleep or laugh;

Loves horses, hounds, and sports, and exercise,
Your looks must alter, as your subject does, Prone to all vice, impatient of reproof,
From kind to fierce, from wanton to severe: Proud, careless, fond, inconstant, and profuse.
For Nature forms, and softens us within,

Gain and ambition rule our riper years,
And writes our fortune's changes in our face. And make us slaves to interest and power.
Pleasure enchants, impetuous rage transports, Old men are only walking hospitals,
And grief dejects, and wrings the tortur'd soul, Where all defects and all diseases crowd
And these are all interpreted by speech;

With restless pain, and more tormenting fear, But he whose words and fortunes disagree,

Lazy, morose, full of delays and hopes, Absurd, unpity'd, grows a public jest.

Oppress’d with riches which they dare not use;
Observe the characters of those that speak, Ill-natur'd censors of the present age,
Whether an honest servant, or a cheat,

And fond of all the follies of the past.
Or one whose blood boils in his youthful veins, Thus all the treasure of our flowing years,
Or a grave matron, or a busy nurse,

Our ebb of life for ever takes away.
Extorting merchants, careful husbandmen,

Boys must not have th' ambitious care of men, Argires or Thebans, Asians or Greeks.

Nor men the weak anxieties of age.
Follow report, or feign coherent things;

Some things are acted, others only told;
Describe Achilles, as Achilles was,

But what we hear moves less than what we see; Impatient, rash, inexorable, proud,

Spectators only have their eyes to trust, Scorning all judges, and all law but arms;

But auditors must trust their ears and you; Medea must be all revenge and blood,

Yet there are things improper for a scene, Ino all tears, Ixion all deceit,

Which men of judgment only will relate. lo most wander, and Orestes mour.

Medea must not draw her murdering knife,
If your bold Muse dare tread unbeaten paths, And spill her childrens' blood upon the stage,
And bring new characters upon the stage,

Nor Atreus there his horrid feast prepare.
Be sure you keep them up to their first height. Cadmus and Progné's metamorphosis,
New subjects are not easily explaind,

(She to a swallow turn'd, he to a snake) And you had better choose a well-known theme And wbatsoever contradicts my sense, Than trust to an invention of your own:

I hate to see, and never can believe.
For what originally others writ,

Five acts are the just measure of a play.
May be so well disguis'd, and so improv'd, Never presume to make a god appear,
That with some justice it may pa-s for yours;

But for a business worthy of a god ;
But then you must not copy trivial things, And in one scene no more than three should speak.
Nor word for word two faithfully translate,

A chorus should supply what action wants, Nor (as some servile imitators do)

And hath a generous and manly part; Prescribe at first such strict uneasy rules,

Bridles wild rage, loves rigid honesty, As you must ever slavishly observe,

And strict observance of impartial laws,
Or all the laws of decency renounce.

Sobriety, security, and peace,
VOL VIII.

T

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