*In ftupid indolence my life is spent,

Supinely calm, and dully innocent:

"Unbleft I wear my useless time away;

Of conquer'd towns, and glorying in the name
Of that aufpicious field, where Churchill's fword
Vanquish'd the might of Gallia, and chartis'd

"Sleep (wretched maid!) all night, and dream al Rebel Bavar.-Majestic in its ftrength,

day;

"Go at fet hours to dinner and to prayer

(For duilnefs ever muit be regular.) "Now with mamma at tedious whift I play ; "Now without scandal drink infipid tea; "Or in the garden breathe the country air, "Secure from meeting any tempter there;

Stands the proud dome, and speaks its great defign.
Hail, happy chief, whofe valour could deferve
Reward fo glorious! grateful nation, hail,
Who paid'ft his service with so rich a meed!
Which most shall I admire, which worthieft praise,
The hero or the people? Honour doubts,
And weighs their virtues in an equal scale,

"From books to work, from work to books, I rove, Not thus Germania pays th' uncancel'd debt

"And am (alas!) at leifure to improve!-
"Is this the life a Beauty ought to lead?
"Were eyes fo radiant only made to read?

"Thefe fingers, at whofe touch ev'n age would
glow,

"Are these of use for nothing but to sew ?
"Sure erring Nature never could defign
"To form a housewife in a mould like mine!
"O Venus, queen and guardian of the fair,
"Attend propitious to thy votary's prayer :
"Let me revifit the dear town again:
"Let me be feen !-could I that wish obtain,
All other wishes my own power would gain.”

BLENHEIM.

Of Gratitude to us-Blush, Cæfar, blush,
When thou behold'st these towers; ingrate, to thee
A monument of shame! Canft thou forget
Whence they are nam'd, and what an English arm
Did for thy throne that day? But we disdain
Or to upbraid or imitate thy guilt.

Still thy obdurate heart against the sense
Of obligation infinite; and know,
Britain, like Heaven, protects à thankless world
For her own glory, nor expects reward.

Pleas'd with the noble theme, her task the Mufe
Purfues untir'd, and through the palace roves
With ever-new delight. The tapestry rich
With gold, and gay with all the beauteous paint
Of various-colour'd filks, difpos'd with skill,
Attracts her curious eye. Here Ifter rolls
His purple wave; and there the Granick flood
With paffing fquadrons foams: here hardy Gaul
Flies from the fword of Britain; there to Greece
Effeminate Perfia yields.—In arms oppos'd,
Marlborough and Alexander vie for fame
With glorious competition; equal both

Written at the UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, In valour and in fortune: but their praise

IN THE YEAR 1727.

ARENT of arts, whofe skilful hand taught

PARE!

firft

The towering pile to rife, and form'd the plan
With fair proportion; archite&t divine.
Minerva; thee to my adventurous lyre
Affiftant I invoke, that means to fing
Blenheim, proud monument of British fame,
Thy glorious work! for thou the lofty towers
Didft to his virtue raife, whom oft thy fhield
In peril guarded, and thy wisdom fteer'd
Through all the ftorms of war.-Thee too I call,
Thalia, fylvan Mufe, who lov'ft to rove
Along the fhady paths and verdant bowers
Of Woodstock's happy grove: there tuning sweet
Thy rural pipe, while all the Dryad train
Attentive liften; let thy warbling song
Paint with melodious praise the pleating scene,
And equal these to Pindus' honour'd fhades.
When Europe freed, confefs'd the faving power
Of Marlborough's hand; Britain, who fent him

forth

Chief of Confederate hosts, to fight the caufe
Of Liberty and Juftice, grateful rais'd
This palace, facred to her leader's fame:
A trophy of fuccefs; with spoils adorn'd
VOL. VII,

Be different, for with different views they fought;
This to fubdue, and that to free mankind.

Now, through the stately portals issuing forth,
The Mufe to fofter glories turns, and feeks
The woodland fhade, delighted. Not the vale
Of Tempe fam'd in fong, or Ida's grove,
Such beauty boasts. Amid the mazy gloom
Of this romantic wilderness once flood
The bower of Rosamonda, hapless fair,
Sacred to grief and Love; the crystal fount
In which the us'd to bathe her beauteous limbs,
Still warbling flows, pleas'd to reflect the face
Of Spencer, lovely maid, when tir'd she fits
Befide its flowery brink, and views those charms
Which only Rofamond could once excell.
But fee where, flowing with a nobler stream,
A limpid lake of purest waters rolls
Beneath the wide-ftretch'd arch, ftupendous work,
Through which the Danube might collected pour
His fpacious urn! Silent a while and smooth
The current glides, till with an headlong force
Broke and diforder'd, down the steep it falls
In loud cascades; the filver-sparkling foam
Glitters relucent in the dancing ray.

In these retreats repos'd the mighty foul
Of Churchill, from the toils of war and ftate,
Splendidly private, and the tranquil joy
Of contemplation felt, while Blenheim's dome
Triumphal ever in his mind renew'd

U u

The

Gave a companion to his fofter hours,
With whom converfing, he forgot all change
Of fortune, or of state, and in her mind
Found greatness equal to his own, and lov'd
Himfelf in her -Thus each by cach'admir'd,
In mutual honour, mutual fondness join'd:
Like two fair ftars, with intermingled light,
In friendly union they together shone,
Aiding each other's brightness, till the cloud
Of night eternal quench'd the beams of one.
Theey Churchill, firft the ruthlefs hand of death
Tore from thy confort's fide, and call'd thee hence
To the fublimer feats of joy and love;
Where fate again fhall join her foul to thine,
Who now, regardful of thy fame, ere&s
The column to thy praife, and fooths her woe
With pious honours to thy facred name
Immortal. Lo! where, towering in the height
Of yon aerial pillar, proudly stands
Thy image, like a guardian god, fublime,
And awes the fubject plain : beneath his feet,
The German eagles fpread their wings; his hand
Grafps Victory, its flave. Such was thy brow
Majeftic, fuch thy martial port, when Gaul
Fled from thy frown, and in the Danube fought
A refuge from thy fword.-There, where the field
Was deepest ftain'd with gore, on Hochfet's plain,
The theatre of thy glory, once was rais'd
A meaner trophy, by the Imperial hand;
Extorted gratitude! which now the rage
Of malice impotent, befeeming ill

A regal breast, has level'd to the ground:
Mean infult! This, with better aufpices,
Shall ftand on British earth to tell the world

Among the demi-gods, deign to defend
This thy abode, while prefent here below,
And facred ftill to thy immortal fame,
With tutelary care. Preferve it fafe
From Time's destroying hand, and cruel stroke
Of factious Envy's more relentlefs rage.
Here may, long ages hence, the British youth,
When honour calls them to the field of war,
Behold the trophies which thy valour rais'd;
The proud reward of thy fuccefsful toils
For Europe's freedom, and Britannia's fame;
That fir'd with generous envy, they may dare
To emulate thy deeds.-So fhall thy name,
Dear to thy country, still inspire her fons
With martial virtue; and to high attempts
Excite their arms, till other battles won,
And nations fav'd, new monuments require,
And other Blenheims shall adorn the land.

TO THE

REVEREND DR. AYSCOUGH,

AT OXFORD.

WRITTEN FROM PARIS IN THE YEAR 1728.

AY, dearest friend, bow roll thy hours away?
What pleafing study cheats the tedious day?
Doft thou the facred volumes oft explore
Of wife Antiquity's immortal lore,
Where virtue, by the charms of wit refin'd,
At once exalts and polishes the mind?
How different from our modern guilty art,
Which pleafes only to corrupt the heart;
Whofe curft refinements odious vice adorn,
And teach to honour what we ought to scorn?
Doft thou in fage hiftorians joy to fee
How Roman greatnefs rofe with liberty:
How the fame hands that tyrants dură control

How Marlborough fought, for whom, and how re- Their empire fretch'd from Atlas to the Pole ;

paid

His fervices. Nor fhall the constant love
Of her who rais'd this monument be loft
In dark oblivion: that shall be the theme
Of future Bards in ages yet unborn,

Infpir'd with Chaucer's fire, who in these groves
First tun'd the British harp, and little deem'd
His humble dwelling fhould the neighbour be

Till wealth and conquefl into slaves refin'd
The proud luxurious masters of mankind?
Doft thou in letter'd Greece each charm admire,
Each grace, each virtue, Freedom could inspire;
Yet in her troubled ftate fee all the woes,
And all the crimes, that giddy Faction knows ;
Till, rent by parties, by corruption fold,
Or weakly careless, or too rafhly bold,

Of Blenheim, houfe fuperb; to which the throngShe funk beneath a mitigated doom,
Of travellers approaching fhall not pafs
His roof unnoted, but refpe&ful hail
With reverence due. Such honour does the Mufe
Obtain her favourites.But the noble pile
(My theme) demands my voice.-O fhade ador'd,
Marlborough! who now above the starry fphere
Dwell'ft in the palaces of heaven, enthron'd

The flave and tutorefs of protecting Rome?
Does calm Philofophy her aid impart
To guide the paffions, and to mend the heart?
Taught by her precepts, haft thou learnt the end
To which alone the wife their studies bend; -
For which alone by nature were defign'd
The powers of thought--to benefit-mankind?

Not,

Not, like a cloyfter'd drone, to read and dose,
In undeferving, undeferv'd, repofe;
But Reafon's influence to diffufe; to clear
Th' enlighten'd world of every gloomy fear;
Difpel the mists of error, and unbind
Thofe pedant chains that clog the freeborn mind.
Happy who thus his leifure can employ !
He knows the pureft hours of tranquil joy;
Nor vext with pangs that bufier bofoms tear,
Nor loft to focial virtue's pleafing care;
Safe in the port, yet labouring to sustain
Thofe who ftill float on the tempestuous main.
So Locke the days of ftudious quiet fpent;
So Boyle in wifdom found divine content;
So Cambray, worthier of a happier doom,
The virtuous flave of Louis and of Rome.

Good Wor'fter thus fupports his drooping

age,

Far from court-flattery, far from party-rage;
He, who in youth a tyrant's frown defy'd,
Firm and intrepid on his country's fide,
Her boldest champion then, and now her mildest
guide!

O generous warmth! O fanctity divine!

To emulate his worth, my friend, be thine:
Learn from his life the duties of the gown;
Learn, not to flatter, nor infult the crown;
Nor bafely fervile, court the guilty great,
Nor, raise the church a rivál to the state:
To error mild, to vice alone fevere,
Seek not to spread the law of love by fear.
The priest who plagues the world can

mend:

never

No foe to man was e'er to God a friend.
Let reafon and let virtue faith maintain ;
All force but theirs is impious, weak, and vam.
Me other cares in other climes engage,
Cares that become my birth, and fuit my age;
In various knowledge to improve my youth,
And conquer prejudice, worst foe to truth;
By foreign arts domestic faults to mend,
Enlarge my notions, and my views extend;
The useful science of the world to know,
Which books can never teach, or pedants show.
A nation here I pity and admire,
Whom nobleft fentiments of glory fire,
Yet taught, by cuftom's force and bigot fear,
To ferve with pride, and boaft the yoke they bear:
Whofe nobles, born to cringe and to command,
(In courts a mean, in camps a generous band,)
From each low tool of power, content receive
Thofe laws, their dreaded arms to Europe give.
Whose people (vain in want, in bondage bleft;
Though plunder'd, gay; industrious, though
preft)

With happy follies rife above their fate,
The jeft and envy of each wifer state.

Yet here the Mufes deign'd a while to sport
In the fhort fun-fhine of a favouring court:

⚫ Bp. Hough.

Here Boileau, ftrong in fenfe and sharp in wit,
Who, from the ancients, like the ancients writ,
Permiffion gain'd inferior vice to blame,
By flattering incenfe to his master's fame."
Here Moliere, firft of comic wits, excell'd
Whate'er Athenian theatres beheld;

By keen, yet decent, fatire fkill'd to pleafe,
With morals mirth uniting, ftrength with eafc.
Now, charm'd, I hear the bold Corneille infpire
Heroic thoughts, with Shakespear's, force and
fire!

Now fweet Racine, with milder influence, move
The foften'd heart to pity and to love.

With mingled pain and pleasure, I furvey
The pompous works of arbitrary fway;
Proud palaces, that drain'd the fubjects' ftore,
Rais'd on the ruins of th' oppreft and poor;
Where ev'n mute walls are taught to flatter state,
And painted triumphs ftyle Ambition GREAT.
With more delight thofe pleafing shades I view,
Where Condé from an envious court withdrew ti
Where, fick of glory, faction, power, and pride,
(Sure judge how empty all, who all had tried ')
Beneath his palms the weary chief repos'd,
And life's great fcene in quiet virtue clos'd.

With thame that other fam'd retreat I fee,
Adorn'd by art, difgrac'd by luxury ‡ :
Where Orleans wafted every vacant hour,
In the wild riot of unbounded power;
Where feverish debauch and impious love
Stain'd the mad table and the guilty grove.

With these amufements is thy friend detain'd,
Pleas'd and inftructed in a foreign land;
Yet oft a tender with recals my mind
From prefent joys to dearer left behind?
O native ifle, fair Freedom's happiest seat!
At thought of thee, my bounding pulfes beat;
At thought of thee, my heart impatient burns,
And all my country on my foul returns.
When fhall I fee thy fields, whofe plenteous grain,
No power can ravish from th' industrious swain?
When kifs, with pious love, the facred earth
That gave a Burleigh or a Ruffel birth?
When, in the fhade of laws, that long have flood,
Propt by their care, or ftrengthen'd by their blood,
Of fearlefs independence wifely vain,
The proudes slave of Bourbon's race difdain ?
Yet, oh! what doubt, what fad prefaging
voice,

Whifpers within, and bids me not rejoice;
Bids me contemplate every state around,
From fultry Spain to Norway's icy bound;
Bids their loft rights, their ruin'd glories fee;
op-And tells me, Thefe, like England, once were
free!

ΑΝ

EPISTLE TO MR. POPE,

FROM ROME, 1730.

"No more let meaner satire dim the rays
"That flow majestic from thy nobler bays;
"In all the flowery paths of Findus stray,
"But fhun that thorny, that unpleafing way;
"Nor, when each foft engaging Mufe is thine,
"Addrefs the least attractive of the Nine.

"Of thee more worthy were thy task, to raise
"A lafting column to thy country's praife;
"To fing the land, which yet alo..e can boast
"That liberty corrupted Rome has loft;

MMORTAL bard! for whom each Mufe has" Where Science in the arms of Peace is laid,

TMMOR

wove

The fairest garlands of th' Aonian grove ;
Preferv'd our drooping genius to restore,
When Addison and Congreve are no more;
After so many stars extinct in night,
The darken'd age's last remaining light!
To thee from Latian realms this verfe is writ,
Infpir'd by memory of antient wit;
For now no more these climes their influence
Fall'n in their glory, and their virtue loft;
From tyrants, and from priefts, the Mufes fly,
Daughters of Reason and of Liberty!
Nor Baiæ now, nor Umbria's plain they love,
Nor on the banks of Nar or Mincio rove;
To Thames's flowery borders they retire,
And kindle in thy breast the Roman fire.

197

"And plants her palm beneath the one's fhade. "Such was the theme for which my lyre i ftrung,

Such was the people whose exploits ! fung; "Brave, yet refin'd, for arms and arts renown'd, "With different bays by Mars and Phoebus crown'd; "Dauntless oppofers of tyrannic fway,

"But pleas'd a mild Augustus to obey.

boast,"

So in the fhades, where, chear'd with summer rays,
Melodious linnets warbled sprightly lays,
Soon as the faded, falling leaves complain
Of gloomy Winter's inaufpicious reign,
No tuneful voice is heard of joy or love,
But mournful filence faddens all the grove.
Unhappy Italy! whofe alter'd ftate
Has felt the worst severity of fate:
Not that barbarian hands her fafces broke,

And bow'd her haughty neck beneath their yoke ;
Nor that her palaces to earth are thrown,
Her cities defart, and her fields unfown;
But that her ancient spirit is decay'd,

That facred wisdom from her bounds is fled;
That there the fource of fcience flows no more,
Whence its rich streams supplied the world before.

"If these commands fubmiffive thou receive, Immortal and unblam'd thy name shall live, Envy to black Cocytus fhall retire; "And howl with Furies in tormenting fire; "Approving Time fhall confecrate thy lays, "And join the patriot's to the poet's praise."*_

то

LORD HERVEY." 1

IN THE YEAR 1730. FROM WORCESTERSHIRE,

Strenua nos exercet inertia: navibus atque "Quadrigis petimus bene vivere: quod petis, hic eft;

“Eft Ulubrus, animus fi te non deficit æquis.”

HOR.

AVOURITE of Venus and the tuneful Nine,

Illuftrious names! that once in Latium hin'd, Follio, by Nature form'd in courts to fhine,

Born to instruct, and to command mankind;
Chiefs, by whofe virtue mighty Rome was rais'd,
And poets, who those chiefs fublimely prais'd;
Oft I the traces you have left explore,

Your ashes vifit, and your urns adore ;

Wilt thou once more a kind attention lend,
To thy long abfent and forgotten friend;
Who, after feas and mountains wander'd o'er,
Return'd at length to his own native shore,

Oft kifs, with lips devout, some mouldering stone, From all that's gay retir'd, and all that's great,

With ivy's venerable shade o'ergrown ;`
Those horrid ruins better pleas'd to fee
Than all the pomp of modern luxury.

As late on Virgil's tomb fresh flowers I ftrow'd,
While with th' inspiring Muse my bosom glow'd,
Crown'd with eternal bays, my ravish'd eyes
Beheld the poet's awful form arife:

"Stranger, he faid, whose piouš hand has paid *Thefe grateful rites to my attentive shade, "When thou shalt breathe thy happy native air, "To Pope this meffage from his master bear:

"Great bard, whose numbers I myself inspire, "To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre, "If, high exalted on the throne of wit, "Near me and Homer thou aspire to fit,

Beneath the fhades of his paternal seat,
Has found that happiness he fought in vain
On the fam❜d banks of Tiber and of Seine?

'Tis not to view the well-proportion'd pile,
The charms of Titian's and of Raphael's (tile,
At foft Italian founds to melt away;
Or in the fragrant groves of myrtle stray;
That lulls the tumults of the foul to reft,
Or makes the fond poffefior truly bleft.
In our own breafts the fource of pleasure lies,
Still open, and ftill flowing to the wife;
Not forc'd by toilsome art and wild defire
Beyond the bounds of nature to aspire,
But, in its proper channels gliding fair;
A common benefit, which all may share.