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Pipe on, thon sweetest of th’ Arcadian-train, In chaste endearments, innocently gay,
Now up the chalky mazes of yon hill,
And, wide, their rural luxury display! [spires, Come then Iantbe! milder than the Spring, Woods, dales, and flocks, and herds, and cots and And grateful as the rosy mouth of May,
Villas of learned clerks, and gentle squires; O come; the birds the hymn of Nature sing, The villa of a friend the eye-sight never tires. Enchanting-wild, from every bush and spray: Swell th' green gems and teem along the vine,
If e'er to thee and Venus, May, I strung A fragrant promise of the future wine,
The gladsome lyre, when livelood 8 swell’d my The spirits to exalt, the genius to refine !
And Eden's nymphs and Isis' damsels sung Let us our steps direct where father-Thames, In tender elegy, and pastoral-strains'; In silver windings draws his humid train, Collect and shed thyself on Theron's bowr's, And pours, where'er he rolls his naval-stream, O green his gar lens, O perfume his flow'rs, Pomp on the city, plenty o'er the plain.
O bless his morning-walks and sooth his ev'ning. Or by the banks of Isis shall we stray,
hours. (Ah why so long from Isis banks away!) Where thousand damsels dance, and thousand Long, Theron, with thy Annabell enjoy shepherds play.
The walks of Nature, still to Virtue kind,
For sacred solitude can never cloy,
O very long may Hymen's golden chain
Then soar, at length, to Heaven ! nor pray, O Along the dew-bright parterres let us rove,
Muse, in vain. Or taste the odours of the mazy-grove:
In solitary silence sweetly tir'd,
Of living fountain, of the wood-bind-shade,
Thy bounty, in his verse, shall certes be repaid.
Thy softest plenitude of beauties shed, With line of silk, with book of barbed steel, Thick as the winter-stars, or summer-flow'rs; Beneath this oaken umbrage let us lay,
Albed the tuneful master (ah !) be dead. And from the water's crystal-bosom steal To Colin next he taught my youth to sing, Upon the grassy bank the finny prey :
My reed to warble, to resound my string: The perch, with purple speckled manifold; The king of shepherds he, of poets he the king. The eel, in silver labyrinth self-roll’d, And carp, all burnish'd o'er with drops of scaly Hail, happy scenes, where Joy wou'd choose to gold.
Hail, golden days, which Saturn deems his own; Or shall the meads invite, with Iris-hues
Hail, music, which the Muses scant 3 excel; And Nature's pencil gay-diversify'd,
Hail, flow'rets, not unworthy Venus' crown, (For vow the Sun bas lick'd away the dews) Ye linnets, larks, ye thrushes, nightingales; Fair-flushing and bedeck'd like virgin-bride? Ye hills, ye plains, ye groves, ye streams, ye gales, Thither, (for they invite us) we'll repair,
Ye ever-happy scenes ! all you, your poet hails. Collect and weave (whate'er is sweet and fair) A posy for thy breast, a garland for thy hair. All-bail to thee, O May! the crown of all !
The recompense and glory of my song: Fair is the lily clad in balmy snow;
Ne small the recompense, ne glory small, Sweet is the rose, of Spring the smiling eye; If gentle ladies, and the tuneful-throng, Nipt by the winds, their heads the lilies bow; With lover's myrtle, and with poet's bay Cropt by the hand, the roses fade and die.
Fairly bedight*, approve the simple lay, Tho now in pride of youth and beauty drest, And think on Thomalin whene'er they hail thee, Otbink, lanthe, cruel Time lays waste
May! The roses of the cheek, the lilies of the breast.
8 Liveliness. Weep nut; but, rather taught by this, improve 9 Stella; sive Amores: Elegiarum Tres Libri. The present freshness of thy springing prime: Written in the year 1736. Bestow thy graces on the god of love,
' Six pastorals: written in the year 1734. Too precious for the wither'd arms of Time.
itho' i Scarcely. 4 Adorned.
And hollow wailings, through the damps of night, THE NEW LYRE.
Responsive wound the ear. The sprightly pow'rs
Of musical enchantment wave their wings,
And seek the fragrant groves and purple fields, I STRUNG my lyre, when Love appear'd,
Where Pleasure rolls her honey-trickling streams, Demanding a light-wanton lay:
Of blooming Health and laughter-dimpled Joy. “ Christ!" I began—the trifler heard,
Me other scenes than laughing Joy, and Health And shook his wings, and pass'd away.
High-blooming, purple-living fields and groves,
Fragrant with Spring, invite. Too long the Muse, The strings rebellious to my haud
Ah! much too long, a libertine diffus'd Refuse to charm : in vain I sue,
On Pleasure's rosy lap, has, idly, breath'd The strings are mute to my den..und
Love-sighing elegies, and pastoral-strains, I broke the old, and form'd a new.
The soft seducers of our youthful hours,
Soothing away the vigour of the mind, “ Christ !" I began: the sacred lyre
And energy of virtue. But farewel, Responsive swelld with notes divine,
Ye myrtle walks, ye lily-inantied meads, And warm'd me with seraphic-fire:
Of Paphos, and the fount of Acidale, Sweet Jesus, I am only thine!
Where, oft, in suinmer, Grecian fables tell,
The daughters of Eurynome and Jove, O wake to life this springing grace,
Thalia and her sister-Graces cool And water with thy heavenly dew:
Their glowing features, at the noontide hour, Display the glories of thy face,
Farewel!-But come, Urania, from thy bow'rs My spirit and my heart renew!
Of everlasting day; O condescend
To lead thy votary (with rapt'rous zeal Direct my soul, direct my hand:
Adoring Nature's God, the great Three-One!) O blessed change ! thy pow'r I feel :
To Salem; where the shepherd-monarch wak'd My numbers flow at my command,
The sacred breath of melody, and swellid My strings with holy raptures swell.
His harp, to angels' kindred notes attun'd,
With music worthy Heaven! O bathe my breast, And, you, whose pious pains unfold
With praises burning, in the morning-dews, Those truths, receive this tribute due;
Which sparkle, Sion, on thy holy hill. You once endur'd my Muse of old,
The prophets, eagle-ey'd, celestial maid,
Those poets of the sky! were taught to chant
While, from the whirlwind, God's all-glorious
Bursts on the tingling ears of Job: the writ (voice IN FIVE BOOKS.
Of Moses, meek in spirit, but his thoughts
Lofty as Heav'n's blue arch. My humble hopes BOOK I.
Aspire but to the alpha of his song; The Lord comfort him, when he lieth sick upon Where, rolld in ashes, digging for a grave, his bed; make thou all his bed in his sickness. More earnest than the covetous for gold
Psalıns. Or hidden treasures crusted o'er with boils,
And roaring in the bitterness of soul,
And heart-sick pain, the man of Uz complains, ARGUMENT.
Themes correspondent to thy servant's theine. Subject proposed. The folly of employing poetry
I sing to you, ye sons of men ! of dust, on wanton or trifling subjects. Invocation of Urania. Reflections on the instability of life Say rather: what is man, who proudly lifts
His brow audacious, as confronting Heav'n, itself: frailness of youth, beauty, and health. The suddenness and first attacks of a distemper, But moulded clay? an animated heap
And tramples, with disdain, his mother Earth, in particular of the small pox. Moral and re
Of dust, that shortly shall to dust return? ligious observations resulting from sickness.
We dream of shadows, when we talk of life, Of Pelops' shoulder, of Pythagoras' thigh,
Of Surius's saints, and Ovid's gods; Of days with pain acquainted, and of nights Mere tales to cheat our children with to rest; Unconscious of the healing balms of sleep, And, when the tale is told, they sink to sleep, That burn in restless agonies away;
Death's image! so inane is mortal-man! Of Sickness, and its family of woes,
Man's but a vapour, toss'd by every wind, The fellest enemies of life, I sing,
The child of smoke, which in a moment flies, Horizon'd close in darkness. While I touch And, sinking into nothing, disappears. The ebon-instrument, of solemn tone,
Man's a brisk bubble floating on the waves Pluckt from the cypress' melancholy boughs, Of wide eternity: he dances now Which, derpoing, shade the house of mourning, Gay-gilded by the Sun (tho' empty proud ;) groar.s
Phantastically fine! and pow he drops
In a broad sheet of waters deep involv'd · He lent me a MS. discourse on these words and gives bis place to others. 0, ye sons “ Old things are passed away, and lo! all things Of vanity, remember, and be wise ! arc become new."
Man is a flow'r, which in the morning, fair
his day-spring, swelling from its slender stem, And hate of being.–Poor Ianthe wept In virgin-modesty, and sweet reserve,
In bitterness, and took me by the hand Lays out its blushing beauties to the day, Compassionately kind: “ Alas!” she cry'd, As Gideon's fleece, full with the dews of Heav'n. “ What sudden change is this?” (Again she wept.) But if some ruder gale, or nipping wind,
Say, can Ianthe prove the source of pain Disastrous, blow too hard, it, weeping, mourns To Thomalin? forbid it, gracious Heav'n!” In robes of darkness; it reclines its head
No, beauteous innocence! as soon the rose In languid softness; withers every grace;
Shall poison with its balm; as soon the dove And ere the er’ning-star the west inflames, Become a white dissembler, and the stream It falls into the portion of those weeds
With lulling murmurs, creeping thro' the grove, Which, with a careless hand, we cast away - Offend the shepherd's slumber"-Scarcemy tongue Ye thoughtless fair-ones, moralize my song! These faultring accents stammerd, down I sink,
Thy pulse beats music; thou art high in health; And a lethargic stupor steeps my sense The rather tremble. When the least we fear, In dall oblivion: till returning pain, When Folly lulls us on her couch of down, Too faithful monitor and dire disease And vine and lutes and odours fiil the sense Bid me remember, pleasure is a dream, With their soft affluence of bewitching joys; That health has eagle's wings, nor tarries long. When years of rapture in thy fancy glow
New horrours rise. For in my pricking veins To entertain thy youth ; a sudden burst
I feel the forky flame: the rapid food
Boils in tumultuary eddies round
Its bursting channels. Parching thirst, anon, Much more than precepts, learn to know thy end. Drinks up the vital maze, as Simois dry,
The day was Valentine's: when lovers' wounds Or Xanthus, by the arm-ignipotent, Afresh begin to bleed, and sighs to warm
With a red torrent of involving flames The chilly rigour of relenting skies :
Exhausted; when Achilles with their floods Sacred the day to innocence and mirth,
Wag'd more than mortal war: the god of fire The festival of youth! in seeming health
Wide o'er the waters pour'd th’ inundant blaze, (As custom bids) I hail'd the year's fair morn, The shriuking waters to the bottom boil And with its earliest purple braid my brows, And biss in ruin. O! ye rivers, roll The violet, or primrose, breathing sweets Your cooling crystal o'er my burning breast, New to the sense, lanthe by my side,
For Ætna rages here! ye snows descend; More lovely than the season! rais'd her voice, Bind me in icy chains, ye northern winds, Observant of his rites, in festal lays,
And mitigate the furies of the fire ! And thus addrest the patron of the Spring :
Good Heav'n! what hoards of unrepented guilt “ Hail, Valentine! at thy approach benign, Have drawn this vengeance down, have rais'd this Profuse of gems, the boson of the Earth
To lash me with his flames? But, 0, forgive (fiend Her fragrant stores unfoids: the fields rejoice, My rashness, that dares blame thy just decrees. And, in the infancy of plenty, sinile :
It is thy rod: I kiss it with my heart,
With fruits of goodness: not, like Moses, turn Those happy lorers, who record thy praise. A serpent; or, to tempt me to accuse
“ Hail, Valentine ! at thy approach benign, The kind oppression of thy righteous hand, Iohaling genial raptures from the Sun,
Or, sting me to despair.—Affliction, hail! The plumy nations swell the song of joy, Thou school of virtue! open wide thy gates, Thy soaring choiristers! the lark, the thrush, Thy gates of ebony! Yet, O, correct And all th' aerial people, from the wren
Thy servant, but with judgment, not in wrath, And linnet to the eagle, feel the stings
But with thy mercy, Lord! thy stripes will heal. Of amorous delight, and sing thy praise.
Thus without heresy, afflictions prove
In health we have no time to visit Truth: With equal tires, and purity of truth,
Health's the disease of morals: few in health Consenting, blushes while she chants thy praise.” Turn o'er the volumes which will make us wise. So sung lanthe: to my heart I prest
What are ye, now, ye tuneful triflers ! once Her spotless sweetness : when, (with wonder, hear!) | The eager solace of my easy hours, Thu' she shone smiling by, the torpid pow'rs Ye dear deluders or of Greece or Rome, Of heaviness weigh'd down my beamless eyes, Anacreon, Horace, Virgil, Homer, what? And press'd them into pight. The dews of death The gay, the bright, the sober, the sublime ? Hung, clammy, on my forehead, like the damps And ye of softer strain, ye amorous fools, Of midnight sepulchres; which, silent, op'd Correctly indolent, and sweetly vain, By weeping widows, or by friendship’s hand, Tibullus, Ovid, and the female-verse Yann hideous on the Moon, and blast the stars Of her, who, plunging from Leucadia's heights, With pestilential reek. My head is torn Extinguish'd, with her life, her hopeless fires, With pangs insufferable, pulsive starts,
Or rose a swan, as love-struck Fancy deem'd. And pungent aches, gliding thro' the brain, Who wou'd not, in these hours of wisdom, give To madness hurrying the tormented sense, A Vatican of wits for one saint Paul?
Dare Tully, with the golden mouth of Greece, Ajax; and, to dignify the sentiment, he puts it With Chrysostom in rhet'ric-thunder join,
into the mouth of Ulysses : Advent'rous, now ? as soon the feeble sound, Salmoneus, of thy brazen bridge contends
Ορω γαρ ημας εδεν οντας αλλο πλην With Jove's etherial peal, and bursting roar
Ειδωλ' οσοι περ ζωμέν, η κεψην σκιαν. Fulminous, rending Earth, o'erturning air,
The scholiast observes, that he borrowed the senAnd shaking Heav'n. Or shall the pointed pen
timent from Pindar. Of Corduba', with hostile labour bend
P. 38. We dream, &c. Of Pelops' shoulder Its sentences obscure against the force OF Hierom's noble fire? as soon the Moon,
The poets feign that Tantalus served up bis With blunted horn, dares pour her pallid beam
son Pelops to the table of the gods: they reAgainst the boundless majesty of day,
united the fragments, and formed his shoulder, The Sun's refulgent throne; when, high, in noon
which was lost, of ivory. Ovid. Met. Lib. vi. He kindles up the Earth to light and joy.
Humeroque Pelops insignis eburno. My best instructor, Sickness, shuts the eye
Virg. Georg. iii. From Vanity; she draws the curtains round
I shall add this beautiful passage from Tibullus: The couch, nor gives admittance to the world: But to Harpocrates consigns the door,
Carmina ni sint, And, sil nt, whispers me that “ life is vain.”
Ex humero Pelopis non nituisset ebur. If life be vain, on what shall man depend !
Lib. i. Eleg. 4. Depend on Virtue. Virtue is a rock
P. 38. Of Pythagoras' thigh. Which stands for ever; braves the frowning flood,
This is told with so much humour by Mr. And rears its awful brow, direct, to Heaven.
Addison in one of his finest works, that I rather Tho' Virtue save not from the grave, she gives
choose to give an authority from him, than any Her votaries to the stars; she plucks the sting
of the ancients. “ The next man astonished the From the grim king of terrours; smoothes the bed
whole table with bis appearance: he was slow, Of anguish, and bids Death, tho dreadful, smile.
solemn and silent, in his behaviour, and wore Death smiles on Virtue: and his visage, black,
a raiment curiously wrought with bieroglyphics. Yet comely seems. A Christian scorns the bounds
As he came into the middle of the room, he throw Where limited Creation said to Time,
back the skirt of it, and discovered a golden “ Here I have end." Rapt'rous, he looks beyond thigh. Socrates, at the sight of it, declared against Or time or space; he triumphs o'er decay; And fills eternity: the next to God.
keeping company with any who were not made of Besh and blood; and therefore desired Diogenes
the Laertian to lead him to the apartment allotted NOTES AND ALLUSIONS.
the fabulous heroes, and worthies of dubious exPage 38. PLUCKT from the cypress, &c.
The Table of Fame, Tatler, Vol. II. No. 81. Thus Horace:
Barbiton hic paries habebit. Lib. jii. Ode 26. P. 38. Of Surius's saints. And a greater than Horace in lyric poetry, the Surius writ the voluminous legend of the Romish royal psalmist, represents the same image:
saints, in six volumes in folio. Dr. Donne in his As for our harps we hanged them up, upon the Satyrs has given him this character: trees that are therein. Psalm cxxxvii. 2.
outlie either P. 38. Paphos, a city of Cyprus; formerly Jovius, or Surius, or both together. Sat. 4. dedicated to Venus.
P. 39. lanthe by my side. Acidale. A fountain in Orchomenus, a city of
Sickness being a subject so disagreeable in itBaotia, where the Graces were supposed to bathe
self to human nature, it was thought necessary, themselves. The genealozy of the Graces is very
as fable is the soul of poetry, to relieve the imadiversely related. But Hesiod says, they were
gination with the following, and some other epithe offspring of Jupiter and Eurynome. Theog. sodes. For to describe the anguish of a distemper
Page 38. Burst on the tingling ears of Job, &c. without a mixture of some more pleasing inci. The book of Job is ascribed to various authors, and tender reader.
dents, would, no doubt, disgust every good-natured and amongst the rest to Moses. I am proud to observe that Dr. Young has strengthened this P. 40. Salmoncus, of thy brazen bridge, &c. opinion in his notes to bis admirable poem on
Salmoneus king of Elis, a province in the question may be found in Pole's Synopsis Critic. Peloponnesus. He was so arrogant as to affect Job. Most of the arguments on each side of the / s in the beginning of his notes on the book of Job: being thought a god: for which end he built a and in Mr. S. Wesley's curious dissertation on
bridge of brass, by driving over which in his
chariot, he endeavoured to make himself be bethe same subject.
lieved the Thunderer. But Jupiter, enraged at P. 38. We dream of shadows, when we talk of his impiety, struck him dead with a real thunder
Vidi crudeles dantem Salmonea pænas, ανθρωποι Pind. Pith. Ode 8.
Dum fiammas Jovis & sonitus imitatur Olympia Sophocles has much the same thought in his Demens qui nimbos, & non imitabile fulmea
Ære & cornipedum cursu imitarat equorum. "Seneca was born at Corduba in Spain.
Virg. Æn. Lib. 4.
P. 40. And to Harpocrates consigns the door. Which, humid, dim the mirror of the mind;
The angry gods with flame o’erwhelming Troy,
Neptune and Pallas) not in vain, I'll sing Si quicquam tacite commissum est fido ab amico, The mystic terrours of this gloomy reign: Me anum esse invenies illorum jure sacratum, And, led by her, with daugerous courage press Corneli, & factum esse puta Harpocratein. Through dreary paths, and haurts, by inortal 100€
Rare visited; unless by thee, I ween, Hence Erasmus, Lib. Adas. tells us, that re
Father of Fancy, of descriptive verse, dere Harpocratem is the same as mutum red. And shadowy beings, gentle Edmund, hight dere. So Catullus in another place:
Spenser! the sweetest of the tuneful thronz,
Or recent, or of eld'. Creative bard,
Thy springs unlock, expand thy fairy scenes, Ovid describes him in the same manner, with | Thy unexhausted stores of fancy spread, ont taking notice of his name, amongst the at- And with thy images enrich my sung. tendants of Isis:
Come, flertford?! with the Muse, a while, vouchQuique premit vocem, digiteqne silentia suadet. (The softer virtues melting in thy breast, (sate.
Metam. Lib. ix. The tender graces glowing in thy form) This description entirely agrees with the seve
Vouchsafe, in all the beauty of distress, nl medals and statues of Harpocrates, which the There lend a charm to Sorrow, smooth her brow,
To take a silent walk among the tombs: learned antiquary Gisb. Cuperus exhibits in his And sparkle through her tears in shining woe. laborious dissertation on that subject, printed As when the dove", (thy emblem, matchless dame! with Monumenta Antiqua, But upon another account likewise, Harpocrates Spread all its colours o'er the boundless deep,
For beauty, innocence, and truth are thine) may justly be appointed to attend upen the sick; (Empyreal radiance quivering round the glovin) for he is numbered amongst the salutary gods, Chaos reform'd, and bade distraction smile! who assisted in extreme dangers; as appears from Artemidorus, Oneir. L. ii. c. 44. where, after Sublimely mournful: to the eye it seems
Deep in a desert-vale, a palace frowns
The graces of the Seasons never knew
Of flushing Spring, with purple gay, invests purpose, has these remarkable words:
Its blighted plains; nor Summer's radiant hand Peserebantur Ægypti, præter cætera numina Profusive, scatters o'er its beletul fields maximè Isin & Osirin, ac horum sive Harpo- | The rich abundance of her glorious days; cratem, tanquam latricos genios.
And golden Autumn here forgets to reign.
Here only hemlock, and whatever weeds
And choke the ground unballow'd. But the soil Dis ases dire, of which a monstrous crew
Refuses to embrace the kindly seeds Before thee shall appear.
Of healing vegetation, sage, and rue,
In Virgil's rural page. The bitter ycw,
The church-yard's shade! and cypress' wither'd Reflections. Invocation of the genius of Spenser. In formidable ranks surround its courts [arms
Apostrophe to the dutchess of Somerset. The With umbrage dun; administ'ring a roof Palace of Disease. War. Intemperance. Me- To birds of ominous portent; the bat, Jancholy. Fever. Consumption, Small-pox. The raven boding death, the screaming owl Complaint on the death of lord Beauchamp. Of heavy wing, while serpents, rustling, hiss,
And croaking toals the odious concert aid.
The peevish East, the rheumy South, the North Death was not man's inheritance, but life Pregnant with storms, are all the winds that blow: Immortal, but a Paradise of bliss,
While, distant far, the pure Etesian-gales, Cafading beauty, and eternal spring,
And western-breezes ian the spicy beds (The cloudless blaze of Innocence's reign:) Of Araby the blest, or shake their balm The gifts of God's right-hand! till monstrous Sin, O'er fair Britannia's pains, and wake her flow'rs. The inotly child of Satan and of Hell,
Eternal damps, and deadly humours, drawn Invited dire Disease into the world,
In pois'nous exhalations from the deep,
Conglomerated into solid night,
· The present dutchess of Somerset. Yet tho' to human sight invisible,
3 The Platonists suppose that Love, or tile. If she, whom i implore, Urania, deign,
cel stial Venus (of whom the dove is likewise au With euphrasy to purge away the mists
embl...) created the world out of chaos.
THE PALACE OF DISEASE.