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A POEM ON
WITH THE PRAISE OP PEACE AND RETIREMENT.
Though pale the cheek, yet swear it glows So rush the globes with many a fiery round,
Tear up the rock, or rend the stedfast mound. Praise them for praise is always true,
Death shakes aloft her dart, and o'er her prey Though with both eyes the cheat they view. Stalks with dire joy, and marks in blood her way; From hateful truths the virgin flies;
Mountains of heroes slain deform the ground, But the false-sex is caught with lies.
The shape of man half bury'd in the wound:
cleaves, THE SEAT OF WAR IN FLANDERS,
Her entrails tremble, and her bosom heaves ;
Sudden in bursts of fire eruptions rise,
And whirl the torn battalions to the skies.
Shake the firm world, and rend the cleaving ground;
Rocks, hills, and groves, are tost into the sky, Secessus mei non desidiæ nomen, sed tranquillita- And in one mighty ruin nations die. tis accipiant.
Plin. See! through th' encumber'd air the ponderous
Bears magazines of Death within its womb; (bomb Happy, thou Flandria, on whose fertile plains,
The glowing orb displays a blazing train, In wanton pride luxurious Plenty reigns;
And darts bright horrour through th'ethereal plain; Happy! had Heaven bestow'd one blessing more,
" It mounts tempestuous, and with hideous sound And piac'd thee distant from the Gallic power!
Wheels down the heavens, and thunders v'er the But now in vain thy lawns attract the view,
ground: They but invite the victor to subdue:
Th' imprison'd Deaths rush dreadful in a blaze, War, horrid War, the sylvan scene invades,
And mow a thousand lives, a thousand ways; (arise And angry trumpets pierce the woodland shades ;
© Earth floats with blood, while spreading flames Here shatter'd towers, proud works of many an age, From palaces, and domes, and kindle half the skies. Lie dreadful monuments of human rage; There palaces and hallow'd domes display
Thus terribly in air the comets roll, Majestic ruins, awful in decay!
And shoot malignant gleams from pole to pole;
"I'ween worlds and worlds they move, and from their Thy very dust, though undistinguish'd trod,
hair Compos'd, perhaps, some hero, great and good, Who nobly for his country lost his blood !
Shake the blue Plague, the Pestilence, and War. Ev'n with the grave, the haughty spoilers war, But who is he, who stern bestrides the plain, And Death's dark mansions wide disclose to air: Who drives triumphant o'er huge hills of slain ; O'er kings and saints insulting stalk, nor dread Serené, while engines from the hostile tower To spurn the ashes of the glorious dead.
Ram froin their brazen mouths an iron shower ; See! the Britannic lions wave in air !
While turbid fiery sinoke obscures the day, See! mighty Marlborough breathing death and war!
Hews thro' the deathtul breach his desperate way; Irom Albion's shores, at Anna's high commands,
Sare Jove descending joins the martial toil; The dauntless hero pours his martial bands.
Or is it Marlborough, or the great Argyle? As when in wrath stern Mars the Thunderer sends Thus, when the Grecians, furious to destroy, To scourge his foes; in pomp the descends;
Level'd the structures of imperial Troy; He mounts his iron car; with fury burns;
Here angry Neptune hurld his rengeful mace, The car, fierce-rattling, thunders as it turns; There Jove o'erturn'd it from its inmost base: Gloomy he grasps his adamantine shield,
Though brave, yet vanquished, she confess’d the And scatters armies o'er th' ensanguin'd field:
odds; With delegated wrath thus Marlborough glows, Her sons were beroes, but they fought with gods. In vengeance rushing on his country's focs.
Ah! what new horrours rise? In deep array See! round the hostile towers embattled stands
The squadrons form! aloft the standards play! His banner'd host, embodied bands by bands !
The captains draw the sword ! on every brow Hark! the shrill trumpet sends a mortal sound, Deterinin'd valuur lowers! the trumpets blow! And prancing horses shake the solid ground; See! the brave Briton delves the cavern'd ground The surly drums beat terrible afar,
Through the hard entrails of the stubborn mound ! With all the dreadful inusic of the war;
And undismay'd by Death, the foe invades From the drawn swords effulgent flames arise,
Through dreadful horrorus of infernal shade's ! Flash o'er the plains, and lighten to the skies; The heaven above, the fields and foods beneath, Glare formidably bright, and shine with death; In fiery storms descends a murderous shower,
's Ev'n the stern souls of heroes feel dismay; Thiek sash the lightnings, fierce the thunders roar,
Proud tempics nod, asp ring towers give way. As when in wrathful mood almighty Jove
Dreadful it mounts, tempestuous in its flight, Aims his dire bolts red-hissing from above;
It sinks, it falls, Earth groans beneath its weight. Through the sing'd air, with unresisted sway,
Th'imprison's Deaths rusb out in smoke and fire, The forky vengeance rends its faming way,
The mighty bleed, heaps crush'd on heaps expire. And, while the firmament with thunder roars, From their foundations hurls imperial towers: The barriers burst, wide-spreading flames arise.
In vain the wall's broad base deep-rooted lies, I see proud victors in triumphal cars,
Or li ten till the raptur'd soul takes wings,
Charm me, ye sacred leaves', with loftier themes
With opening Heavens, and angels rob'd in flames:
Ye restless passions, while I read, be aw'd :
Here I behold how infant Time began,
How the dust mov'd and quicken'd into man;
Court the soft breeze, or range the spicy grove; And, foaming, burst tumultuous to the skies;
There tred on hallow'd ground where angels tiod, Then, roaring dreadful o'er the delug'd plain, And reverend patriarchs talk'd as friends with Sweep herds and hinds in thunder to the main.
Or hear the voice to slumbering prophets given,
But nobler yet, far nobler scenes advance !
Why leap the mountains ? why the forests dance?
Why flashes glory from the golden spheres?
Rejoice, O Earth, a God, a Gal appears!
A God, a God, descending angels sing,
Hail, virgin-born! Lift, lift, ye blind, your eyes!
Tremble, ye gates of Hell ! in noblest strains
Thus lonely, thoughtful, may I run the race
Enjoy each hour, nor as it flects away,
Think life too short, and yet too long the day ;
Of right observant, while the soul attends
Each duty, and makes Heaven and angels friends,
And thou, fair Peace, from the wild floods of war While gently with one sigh this mortal frame
Come dove-like, and thy blooming olive bear; Dissolving turus to ashes, whence it came;
Tell me, ye victors, what strange charms ye tind
In Conquest, that destruction of mankind!
Unenvy'd may your laurels ever grow,
Let Ganges from afar to slaughter train
His sable warriors on th' embattled plain ;
Let Volga's sons in iron squadrons rise,
And pour in millions from her frozen skies :
Thou, gentle Thames, flow thou in peaceful streams,
Bid thy bold sons restrain their martial flames.
In thy own laurel's shade, great Mariborough, Flames in the vault of Heaven, and fires the sky :
saway: Or while the night's dark wings this globe sur
There charm the thoughts of conquer'd worlds
Guardian of England! born to scourge her foes, round,
Speak, and thy word gives half the world repose ;
Sink down, ye bilis; eternal rocks, subside ;
Vanish, ye forts; thou, Ocean, drain thy tide:
We safety boast, defended by thy faine,
And armies in the tertour of thy name!
Now fix o'er Anna's throne thy victor blade.
War, be thou chain'd! ye streams of blood, be
stay'd! Consult the learned volumes of the dead;
Though wild Ambition her just vengeance feels,
She wars to save, and where she strikes, she heals.
And peaceful olives flourish'd from the wound.
· The Holy Scriptures.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
Against our reason fondly we believe,
As the faint traveller, when Night invades,
Sees a false light relieve the ambient shades,
But the false guide shines only to betray: PARKS, AND WARRENS, ON THE SOUTH SIDE op Swift he pursues, yet still the path mistakes,
O'er dangerous marshes, or through thorny brakes;
Yet obstinate in wrong he toils to stray, -δώρόν τοι τούτο δίδωμι
With many a weary stride, o'er many a painful way: Μνημα
Odyssey, lib. 15. So man pursues the phantom of his brain,
And buys his disappointment with his pain :
The power to taste the long-expected joy,
Then Fortune envious sheds her golden show'rs, To think, to act with elegance and ease 8 !
Malignly smiles, and curses him with stores.
Thus o'er the urns of friends departed weep. Unskill'd in verse, I haunt the silent grove;
The mournful kindred, and fond vigils keep;
Ambrosial ointments o'er their ashes shed,
And scatter useless roses on the dead;
And when no more avail the world's delights, So by thy favour may the Muse be crown'd,
The spicy odours, and the solemn rites, And plant her laurels in more fruitful ground ;
With fruitless pomp they deck the senseless tombs, The grateful Muse shall in return bestow
And waste profusely floods of vain perfumes. Her spreading laurels to adorn thy brow,
Thus, guarded by the tree of Jove, a flower Shoots from the earth, nor fears th' inclement And, when the fury of the storm is laid, (shower;
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE LADY JANE WHARTON,
The winter's past, the tempests fly,
Soft gales breathe gently through the sky, Thus, when an angel views mankind distrest,
The lark sweet warbling on the wing He feels compassion pleading in his breast;
Salutes the gay return of Spring: Instant the heavenly guardian cleaves the skies,
The silver dews, the vernal showers,
Call forth a bloomy waste of flowers;
Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose !
Thou, beauteous flower, a welcome guest, Though fur remov'd from the mistaking eye ;
Shalt nourish on the fair-one's breast,
Shalt grace her hand, or deck her hair,
The flower most sweet, the nymph most fair.
Breathe soft, ye winds! be calm, ye skies ! • Firm to thy king, and to thy country brave;
Arise, ye flowery race, arise ! Loyal, yet free; a subject, not a slave;
And haste thy beauties to disclose, Say, &c.
Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose ! • Few know to ask, or decently receive; And fewer still with dignity to give :
But thou, fair nymph, thyself survey If earn'd by flattery, gifts of highest price
In this sweet offspring of a day :
That miracle of face must fail;
Thy charms are sweet, but charms are frail ;
Swift as the short-liv'd florer they fiy,
At morn they bloom, at evening die:
Yet 'Time destroys what Sickness spares. And give the favour lustre by the grace;
Now Helen lives alone in fame, So Phabus to his warmth a glory joins,
And Cleopatra 's but a name. Blessing the world, and while he blesses shines.
Time must indent that heavenly brow,
And thou must be, what they are now. 1 The lord Cornwallis, in a most obliging manner, recommended the author to the rectory of This moral to the fair disclose, Pulhain
Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose
BELINDA AT THE BATH.
Think then, O fairest of the fairer race,
What fatal beauties arm thy heavenly face, While in these fountains bright Belinda laves, Whose very shadow can such flames inspire; She adds new virtues to the healing waves : We see 'tis paint, and yet we feel 'tis fire. Thus in Bethesda's pool an angel stood,
See! with false life the lovely image glows, Bad the soft waters heal, and blest the food :
And every wondrous grace transplanted shows; But from her eye such bright destruction flies, Patally fair the new creation reigns, In vain they fow! for her, the lover dies. Charms in her shape, and multiplies our pains:
No more let Tagus boast, whose beds unfold Hence the fond youth, that ease by absence found, A shining treasure of all-conquering gold ! Views the dear form, and bleeds at every wound; No more the Po?! whose wandering waters stray, Thus the bright Venus, though to Heaven she soard, In mazy errours, through the starry way: Reign'd in her image, by the world ador'd. Henceforth these springs superior honours share ; Oh! wondrous power of mingled light and shades! There Venus laves, but my Belinda here,
Where beauty with dumb eloquence persuades,
Rare art! on whose command all nature waits!
It copies all Omnipotence creates :
Here crown'd with mountains earth expanded lies, AN ODE.
There the proud seas with all their billows rise : Love is a noble rich repast,
If life be drawn, responsive to the thought But seldom should the lover taste;
The breathing figures live throughout the draught; When the kind fair no more restrains,
The mimic bird in skies fictitious moves,
Or fancied beasts in imitated groves : The glutton surfeits, and disdains.
Ev'n Heaven it climbs; and from the forming hands To move the nymph, he tears bestows,
An angel here, and there a Townshend ? stands. He rainly sighs, he falsely vows : The tears deceive, the vows betray;
Yet, painter, yet, though Art with Nature strive, He conquers, and contemns the prey.
Though ev'n the lovely phantom seem alive,
Submit thy vanquish'd art! and own the draught, Thus Ammon's son with fierce delight
Though fair, defective, and a beauteous fault : Smild at the terrours of the fight;
Charms, such as hers, iniinitably great, The thoughts of conquest charm'd his eyes,
He only can express, that can create, He conquer'd, and he wept the prize,
Couldst thou extract the whiteness of the snow, Love, like a prospect, with delight
Or of its colours rob the heavenly bow, Sveetly deceives the distant sight,
Yet would her beauty triumph o'er thy skill, Where the tir'd travellers survey,
Lovely in thee, herself more lovely still ! O'er hanging rooks, a dangerous way.
Thus in the lipid fountain we descry Ye fair, that would victorious prove,
The faint resemblance of the glittering sky; Seem but half kind, when most you love:
Another Sun displays his lessen'd beams, Damon parsues, if Celia flies;
Another Heaven adorns the enlighten'd streams: But when her love is barn, his dies.
But though the scene be fair, yet high above
Th’exalted skies in nobler beauties move;
There the true Heaven's eternal lamps display Pree from the guards and brazen tower,
A deluge of inimitable day, She'd ne'er been worth a golden show'r,
TO THE HONOURABLE
MRS, ELIZABETH TOWNSHEND,
ON HER PICTURE, AT RAINHAM,
ripieni yumaan Είδος σ' άδι φρένας.
Odyssey, lib. 18.
TO MR. POPE,
ON HIS WORKS. 1726,
If aught on Earth, when once this breath is fled,
Eridanum cernes in parte locatum cæli.
Tull. in Arateis, Gurgite sidereo subterluit Oriona, Claud,
Now lady Cornwallis,
Shakespeare, rejoice! his hand thy page refines, Nor longer in his heavy eye-ball shin'd
With royal robes, and bid him shine in gold; Prun'd by his care, thy laurels loftier grow, Touch'd by your hand, his manly frame improves And bloom afresh on thy immortal brow. (vades, With air divine, and like a god he moves.
Thus when thy draughts, O Raphael, Time in- This labour past, of heavenly subjects sing, And the bold figure froin the canvas fades; While hovering angels listen on the wing; A rival hand recalls from every part
To hear from Earth such heart-felt raptures rise, Some latent grace, and equals art with art; As, when they sing, suspended hold the skies : Transported we survey the dubious strife,
Or, nobly rising in fair Virtue's cause, While the fair image starts again to life.
From thy own life transcribe th' unerring laws; How long untun'd ha:) Homer's sacred lyre
Teach a bad world beneath her sway to bend, Jarrd grating discord, all extinct his fire!
To verse like thine fierce savages attend,
Ev'n fiends, relenting, hear their rage away.
PART OF THE TENTH BOOK OP
THE ILIARS OF HOMER.
IN THE STYLE OF MILTON.
Sleep shed his softest balm ; restless alone Tremble the towers of Heaven ; Earth rocks her Atrides lay, and cares revolvid on cares.
coasts ; And gloomy Pluto shakes with all his ghosts.
As when with rising vengeance gloomy Jove
Pours down a wat'ry deluge, or in storms
Of hail or snow commands the goary jaws
Of War to roar; through all the kindling skies, Toss the wild waves, and thunder in the skies;
With flaming wings on lightnings lightnings play:
So while Atrides meditates the war,
Sighs after sighs, burst from his manly breast,
And shake his inmost soul : round o'er the fields How twangs the bow, when with a jarring spring The whizzing arrows vanish from the string !
To Troy he turns his eyes, and round beholds When giants strain, some rock’s vast weight to shove,
A thousand fires blaze dreadful; through his ears
Passes the direful symphony of war, The slow verse heaves, and the clogg'd words scarce
Of fife, or pipe, and the loud hum of hosts move; But when from high it rolls with many a bound,
Strikes him dismay’d: now o'er the Grecian tents Jumping it thundering whirls, and rushes to the
His eyes he rolls; now from his royal head
Rends the fair curl in sacrifice to Jove, ground: Swift for's the verse, when winged lightnings fly,
And his brave heart heaves with iinperial woes. Dart from the dazzled view, and flash along the sky; Thus groans the thoughtful king; at length resolves Thus, like the radiant God who sheds the day, To seek the Pylian sage, in wise debate The vale you paint, or guild the azure way; To ripen high designs, and from the sword And, while with erery there the verse complics, Preserve his banded legions. Pale and sad Sink without groveling; without rashness, rise. tprose the monarch : instant o'er his breast
A robe he threw, and on his royal feet Proceed, great bard, awake th' harmonious
Glitter'd th' einbroider'd sandals: o'er his back Be ours all Homer, still Ulysses sing! (string, Ev'n I, the meanest of the Muses' train,
A dreadful ornament, a lion's spoils, Infam'd by thec, attempt a nobler strain ;
With hideous grace down to his ankles hung;
Fierce in his hand he grasp'd a glittering spear. Advent'rous waken the Maonian lyre, Tund by your hand, and sing as you inspire : With equal care was Menelaus toss'd : So, arm'd by great Achilles for the fight,
Sleep from his teinples fled, his generous heart Patroclus conquer'd in Achilles' might.
Felt all his people's woes, who in his cause like theirs our friendship! and I boast iny name Stemw'd the proud main, and nubiy stood in aims To thine united, for thy friendship's famne.
Confronting Death: a leopard's spotted spoils
Tcrrific clad his limbs, a brazen helm
Beam'it on his head, and in his hand a spear. Sach as he wanderd o'er his native coast,
Forth from his tent the royal Spartan strode Shrunk by the wand', and all the hero lost;
To wakr the king of men; hiin wak'd he found O'er his smooth skin a bark of wiinkles spread,
Clasping his polish'd arıns; with rising joy Old-age disgrac'd the honours of his head;
The beroe: meet, the Spartan thus begun:
“Why thus in arms, inv prinec? Send'st thou some *The author translaudeight books or the Odyssey.
To view the Trojan host? Alas! I fear (spy
Lest the most dauntless sons of glorious War “See the 16th Odyssey, ver. 186, and 470. Shrink at the bold design! This task demands