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To show him in an insect or a flow'r
And, as thou would'st th' advancement of thine heir Such microscopic proof of skill and pow'r,
In all good faculties beneath his care, As, hid from ages past, God now displays,
Respect, as is but rational and jnst,
A man deem'd worthy of so dear a trust.
From youthful folly than the same neglect?
A flat and fatal negative obtains
That instant upon all his future pains ;
Are a stream chok'd, or trickling to no end.
Doom him not then to solitary meals ; Whose fair example may at once inspire
But recollect, that he has sense, and feels; A wish to copy, what he must admire.
And that, possessor of a soul refin'd, Such knowledge gain'd betimes, and which appears, An upright heart, and cultivated mind, Though solid, not too weighty for his years,
His post not mean, his talents not unknown, Sweet in itself, and not forbidding sport,
He deems it bard to vegetate alone. When health demands it, of athletic sort,
And, if admitted at thy board he sit, Would make him-what some lovely boys have Account him no just mark for idle wit; been,
Offend not him, whom modesty restrains And more than one perhaps that I have seen
From repartee, with jokes that he disdains; An evidence and reprehension both
Much less transfix his feelings with an oath; Of the mere school-boy's lean and tardy growth. Nor frown, unless he vanish with the cloth. Art thou a man professionally tied,
And, trust me, his utility may reach With all thy faculties elsewhere applied,
To more than he is hir'd or bound to teach; Too busy to intend a meaner care,
Much trash unutter'd, and some ills undone,
But, if thy table be indeed unclean,
The World accounts an honourable man,
Because forsooth thy courage has been tried, Heard to articulate like other men :
And stood the test, perhaps, on the wrong side ! No jester, and yet lively in discourse,
Though thou hadst never grace enough to prove,
Or hast thou a polite, card.playing wife,
Flies, wing'd with joy, to some coach-crowded door;
And thrice in ev'ry winter throngs thine own Wise for himself and his few friends alone
With half the chariots and sedans in town, In him thy well-appointed proxy see,
Thyself, meanwhile, e'en shifting as thou mayst; Arm'd for a work too difficult for thee;
Not very sober though, nor very chaste:
If not a scene of pleasure, a mere blank,
Though mercy for thyself thou canst have vone,
Hear Nature plead, show mercy to thy son. Safe under such a wing, the boy shall show
Sav'd from his home, where ev'ry day brings forth
Some mischief fatal to his future worth,
Within some pious pastor's humble cot,
The most seducing, and the oft'nest seen) For since (80 fashion dictates) all, who claim
May never more be stamp'd upon his breast, A higher than a mere plebeian fame,
Nor yet perhaps incurably impress’d. Find it expedient, come what mischief may,
Where early rest makes early rising sure, To entertain a thief or two in pay,
Disease or comes not, or finds easy cure, (And they that can afford th' expense of more, Prevented much by diet neat and plain ; Some half-a-dozen and some half-a-score,)
Or, if it enter, soon starv'd out again : Great cause occurs, to save him from a band
Where all th' attention of his faithful host, So sure to spoil him, and so near at band;
Discreetly limited to two at most, A point secur'd, if once he be supplied
May raise such fruits as shall reward his care,
And not at last evaporate in air:
Serene, and to his duties much inclin'd,
Not occupied in day.dreams, as at home, Conducted on a manageable scale,
Of pleasures past, or follies yet to come, And schools, that have outliv'd all just esteem,
His virtuous toil may terminate at last Exchang'd for the secure domestic scheme.
In settled habit and decided taste.But, having found him, be thou duke or earl,
But whom do I advise ? the fashion-led, Show thou hast sense enongh to prize the pearl, Tb' incorrigibly wrong, the deaf and dead,
Whom care and cool deliberation suit
To you, then, tenants of life's middle state,
What character, what turn thou wilt assume
Si te fortè meæ gravis uret sarcina chartæ,
Hor. Lib. i. Epist. 13.
A. You told me, I remember, “ Glory, built Is worth, with all it's gold and glittring store,
Just what the toy will sell for, and no more.
Oh! bright occasions of dispensing good, Stark naught, because corrapt in their design.” How seldom us’d, how little understood ! Strange doctrine this! that without scruple tears To pour in Virtue's lap ber just reward; The laurel, that the very lightning spares;
Keep Vice restrain'd behind a double guard ; Brings down the warrior's trophy to the dust,
To quell the faction, that affronts the throne,
By silent magnanimity alone;
Watch ev'ry beam Philosophy imparts;
To give Religion her unbridl'd scope, To him, that fights with justice on his side.
Nor judge by statute a believer's hope ; Let laurels, drench'd in pure Parnassian dews, With close fidelity and love unfeign'd Reward his mem'ry, dear to ev'ry Muse,
To keep the matrimonial bond unstain'd ; Who, with a courage of unshaken root,
Covetous only of a virtuous praise ; In honour's field advancing his firm foot,
His life a lesson to the land he sways; Plants it upon the line that Justice draws,
To touch the sword with conscientious awe, And will prevail or perish in her cause.
Nor draw it but when duty bids him draw; "T is to the virtues of such men man owes
To sheath it in the peace-restoring close His portion in the good that Heav'n bestows.
With joy beyond what victory bestows;
Blest country, where these kingly glories shine!
A. Guard what you say ; the patriotic tribe
The worth of his three kingdoms I defy, That takes not fire at their heroic deeds,
To lure me to the baseness of a lie : Unworthy of the blessings of the brave,
And, of all lies, (be that one poet's boast,) Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
The lie that flatters I abhor the most. But let eternal infamy pursue
Those arts be theirs, who hate his gentle reign, The wretch to nonght but his ambition true,
But he that loves him bas no need to feign. Who, for the sake of filling with one blast
A. Your smooth euloginm to one crown address’d, The post-horns of all Europe, lays her waste.
Seems to imply a censure on the rest. Think yourself station'd on a tow'ring rock,
B. Quevedo, as he tells his sober tale, To see a people scatter'd like a flock,
Ask’d, when in Hell, to see the royal jail; Some royal mastiff panting at their heels,
Approv'd their method in all other things; With all the savage thirst a tiger feels;
“ But where, good sir, do you confine your kings ?” Then view him self-proclaim'd in a gazette
“ There,” said his guide, “ the group is full in view." Chief monster that has plagu'd the nations yet. “ Indeed !” replied the don, “ there are but few." The globe and sceptre in such hands misplac'd, His black interpreter the charge disdain'dThose ensigns of dominion, how disgrac'd !
“ Few, fellow!-there are all that ever reigu’d.”
I grant the sarcasm is too severe,
And the Sixth Edward's, grace th' historic page.
By their own conduct they must stand or fall. Maintaining yours, you cannot theirs condemn,
B. True. While they live, the courtly laureat pays Who think, or seem to think, man made for them. His quit-rent ode, his pepper-corn of praise; B. Seldom, alas ! the pow'r of logic reigns
And many a dunce, whose fingers itch to write, With much sufficiency in royal brains;
Adds, as he can, his tributary mite : Such reas'ning falls like an inverted con
A subject's faults a subject may proclaim, Wanting it's proper base to stand upon.
A monarch's errours are forbidden game! Man made for kings ! those optics are but dim Thus free from censure, overaw'd by fear, That tell you so-say, rather they for him.
And prais'd for virtues, that they scorn to wear,
The fleeting forms of majesty engage
Then leave their crimes for history to scan,
And ask with busy scorn, “ Was this the man ?”
I pity kings, whom Worship waits apon
Gen'rals, who will not conquer when they may, Obsequious from the cradle to the throne ;
Firm friends to peace, to pleasure, and good pay : Before whose infant eyes the flatt'rer bows,
When Freedom, wounded almost to despair, And binds a wreath about their baby brows;
Though Discontent alone can find out where; Whom Education stiffens into state,
When themes like these employ the poet's tongue, And Death awakens from that dream too late.
I hear as mute as if a syren sung.
Or tell me, if you can, what pow'r maintains
That were a theme might animate the dead,
And move the lips of poets cast in lead. If smiling peeresses, and simp'ring peers,
B. The cause, though worth the search,, may yet Encompassing his throne a few short years ;
elude If the gilt carriage and the pamper'd steed,
Conjecture and remark, however shrewd.
Who seek it in his climate and his frame.
With stern severity deals out the year. While condescending majesty looks on;
Winter invades the spring, and often pours If monarchy consist in such base things,
A chilling flood on summer's drooping flow'rs; Sighing, I say again, “ I pity kings !”
Unwelcome vapoars quench autumnal beams, To be suspected, thwarted, and withstood,
Ungenial blasts attending curl the streams:. Ev'n when he labours for his country's good;
The peasants urge their harvest, ply the fork To see a band, call'd patriot for no cause,
With double toil, and shiver at their work; But that they catch at popular applause,
Thus with a rigour, for his good design'd, Careless of all th' anxiety he feels,
She rears her fav'rite man of all mankind. Hook disappointment on the public wheels;
His form robust and of elastic tone, With all their flippant fluency of tongue,
Proportion'd well, half muscle and half bone, Most confident, when palpably most wrong:
Supplies with warm activity and force If this be kingly, then farewell for me
A mind well-lodg'd, and masculine of course. All kingship ; and may I be poor and free!
Hence Liberty, sweet Liberty inspires To be the Table-Talk of clubs up stairs,
And keeps alive his fierce but noble fires. To which th' unwash'd artificer repairs,
Patient of constitutional controul, T' indulge his genius, after long fatigue,
He bears it with meek manliness of soul; By diving into cabinet-intrigue;
But if Authority grow wanton, woe
One step beyond the bound'ry of the laws
Thus proud Prerogative, not much rever'd,
Is seldom felt, though sometimes seen and heard, And in reality to find no friend;
And in his cage, like parrot fine and gay, If he indulge a cultivated taste,
Is kept to strut, look big, and talk away. His gallries with the works of art well grac'd,
Born in a climate softer far than ours, To hear it call'd extravagance and waste ;
Not form'd like us, with such Herculean pow'rs, If these attendants, and if such as these,
The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk, Must follow royalty, then welcome ease ;
Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk, However humble and confin'd the sphere,
Is always happy, reign whoever may,
A. Thus men, whose thoughts contemplative have He drinks his simple bev'rage with a gust;
And, feasting on an onion and a crust,
We never feel the alacrity and joy, Of dreaming study and pedantic rust,
With which he shouts and carols Vive le Roy ! And prate and preach about what others prove, Fill'd with as much true merriment and glee, As if the world and they were hand and glove. As if he heard his king say—“ Slave, be free." Leave kingly backs to cope with kingly cares;
Thus happiness depends, as Nature shows, They have their weight to carry, subjects theirs ; Less on exterior things than most suppose. Poets, of all men, ever least regret
Vigilant over all that he has made, Increasing taxes and the nation's debt.
Kind Providence attends with gracious aid; Could you contrive the payment, and rehearse Bids equity throughout his work prevail, The mighty plan, oracular, in verse,
And weighs the nations in an even scale ; No bard, howe'er majestic, old or new,
He can encourage Slav'ry to a smile, Should claim my fix'd attention more than you. And fill with discontent a British isle. B. Not Brindly nor Bridewater would essay
A. Freemen and slave then, if the case be such, To turn the course of Hellicon that way;
Stand on a level : and you prove too much: Nor would the Nine consent the sacred tide
If all men indiscriminately share Should purl amidst the traffic of Cheapside.
His fost'ring power and tutelary care, Or tinkle in 'Change Alley, to amuse
As well be yok'd by Despotism's band, The leathern ears of stock jobbers and Jews.
As dwell at large in Britain's charter'd land. A. Vouchsafe, at least, to pitch the key of rhyme B. No. Freedom has a thousand charms to show, To themes more pertinent, if less sublime.
That slaves, howe'er contented, never know. When ministers and ministerial arts;
The mind attains beneath her happy reign Patriots, who love good places at their hearts; The growth, that Nature meant she should attain; When admirals, extoll’d for standing still,
The varied fields of science, ever new, Or doing nothing with a deal of skill ;
Op'ning and wider op'ning on her view,
She ventures onward with a prosp'rons force,
The country's need have scantily applied, While no base fear impedes her in her course.
And the last left the scene, when Chatham died. Religion, richest favour of the skies,
B. Not so--the virtue still adorns our age, Stands most reveal'd before the freemen's eyes;
Though the chief actor died upon the stage. No shades of superstition blot the day,
In him Demosthenes was heard again; Liberty chases all that gloom away;
Liberty taught him her Athenian strain;
She cloth'd him with authority and awe,
His speech, bis form, his action, full of grace,
And all his country beaming in his face, Courage in arms, and ever prompt to show
He stood, as some inimitable hand His manly forehead to the fiercest foe;
Would strive to make a Paul or Tully stand. Glorious in war, but for the sake of peace,
No sycophant or slave, that dar'd oppose His spirits rising as his toils increase,
Her sacred cause, but trembled when he rose; Guards well what arts and industry have won,
And ev'ry venal stickler for the yoke And freedom claims him for her first-born son.
Felt himself crush'd at the first word he spoke. Slaves fight for wliat were better cast away
Such men are rais'd to station and command, The chain that binds them, and a tyrant's sway;
When Providence means mercy to a land. But they, that fight for freedom, undertake
He speaks, and they appear; to him they owe The noblest cause mankind can have at stake;
Skill to direct, and strength to strike the blow; Religion, virtue, truth, whate'er we call
To manage with address, to seize with pow'r
The crisis of a dark decisive hour.
So Gideon earn'd a victory not bis own;
Subservieney his praise, and that alone. Genins is thine, and thou art Fancy's nurse ;
· Poor England! thou art a devoted deer, Lost without thee th' ennobling pow'rs of verse;
Beset with every ill but that of fear. Heroic song from thy free touch acquires
The nations hunt; all mark thee for a prey; It's clearest tone, the rapture it inspires :
They swarm around thee, and thou stand'st at bay, Place me where Winter breathes bis keenest air,
Undaunted still, though wearied and perplex'd, And I will sing, if Liberty be there;
Once Chatham say'd thee: but who saves thee
next? And I will sing at Liberty's dear feet, In Afric's torrid clime, or India's fiercest heat.
Alas! the tide of pleasure sweeps along A. Sing where you please; in such a cause I grant
All that should be the boast of British song. An English poet's privilege to rant:
'T is not the wreath, that once adorn'd thy brow, But is not Freedom--at least is not ours
The prize of bappier times, will serve thee now. Too apt to play the wanton with her pow'rs,
Our ancestry, a gallant, Christian race, Grow freakish, and, o'erleaping ev'ry mound,
Patterns of ev'ry virtue, ev'ry grace, Spread anarchy and terrour all around ?
Confess'd a God: they kneeld before they fought, B. Agreed. But would you sell or slay your horse
And prais'd him in the victories he wrought, For bounding and curvetting in his course?
Now from the dust of ancient days bring forth Or if, when ridden with a careless rein,
Their sober zeal, integrity, and worth ; He break away, and seek the distant plain ?
Courage ungrac'd by these, affronts the skies,
Is but the fire without the sacrifice.
Not more invigorates life's noblest part,
Than Virtue quickens with a warmth divine Not skulk or put on a prudential mask,
The pow'rs, that Sin has brought to a decline. As if their duty were a desp’rate task;
A. Th'inestimable Estimate of Brown Let active Laws apply the needful curb,
Rose like a paper-kite, and charm'd the town; To guard the Peace, that Riot would disturb;
But measures plann'd and executed well, And Liberty, preserv'd from wild excess,
Shifted the wind that rais'd it, and it fell. Shall raise no feuds for armies to snppress.
He trod the very self-same ground you tread, When Tumult lately burst his prison-door,
And Victory refuted all he said. And set plebeian thousands in a roar ;
B. And yet his judgment was not fram'd amiss When he usurp'd Authority's just place,
if it err'd, was merely this And dar'd to look his master in the face ;
He thought the dying hour already come, When the rude rabble's watchword was- Destroy ! And a complete recov'ry struck him dumb. And blazing London seem'd a second Troy;
But that effeminacy, folly, lust, Liberty blush'd, and hung her drooping head,
Enervate and enfeeble, and needs must; Beheld their progress with the deepest dread;
And that a nation shamefully debas'd, Blush'd, that effects like these she should produce,
Will be despis'd, and trampled on at last, Worse than the deeds of galley-slaves broke loose.
Unless sweet Penitence her pow'rs renew, She loses in such storms her very name,
Is truth, if History itself be true. And fierce Licentiousness should bear the blame.
There is a time, and Justice marks the date, Incomparable gem! thy worth untold;
For long-forbearing Clemency to wait; Cheap though blood-bought, and thrown away when
That hour elaps'd, th' incurable revolt sold;
Is punish'd, and down comes the thunderbolt. May no foes ravish thee, and no false friend
If Mercy then put by the threatning blow, Betray thee, while professing to defend !
Must she perform the same kind office now 3 Prize it, ye ministers; ye monarchs, spare;
May shel and, if offended Heav'n be still Ye patriots, guard it with a miser's care.
Accessible, and pray'r prevail, she will. A. Patriots, alas ! the few that have been found, 'T is not, however, insolence and noise, Where most they flourish, apon English ground,
l'he tempest of tumultuary joys,