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A POEM ON
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 fies;
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, CHICTLY WITH RELATION TO THE SIEGES :
And whirl the torn battalions to the skies.
Thus earthquakes, rumbling with a thundering WITH THE PRAISE OP PEACE AND RETIREMENT.
sound, WRITTEN IN 1710.
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.
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 plac'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 syivan 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,
And shoot malignant gleams from pole to pole; Majestic ruins, awful in decay! Thy very dust, though undistinguish'd trod,
"Tween worlds and worlds they move, and from their
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 Serene, while engines from the hostile tower To spurn the ashes of the glorious dead.
Rain from their brazen mouths an iron shower; See! the Britannic lions wave in air !
While turbid fiery sinoke obscures the day,
Hews thro' the deathtul breach his desperate way; See! mighty Marlborough breathing death and war! Trom Albion's shores, at Anna's high commands,
Sure Jove descending joins the inartial 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 god descends; Level'd the structures of inperial Troy; He mounts his iron car; with fury burns;
Here angry Neptune hurld his vengeful mace, The car, fierce-rattling, thunders as it turns; There Jove o'erturn'd it from its inmost basc: Gloomy he grasps his adamantine shield,
Though brave, yet vanquished, she confessd 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 loriours risc? 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, Determinid valvur 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 music of the war;
And undismay'd by Death, the foe invades From the drawn swords effulgent fames arise, Through dreadful horrorus of infernal shades! Flash o'er the plains, and lighten to the skies; The heavens above, the fields and foods beneath, Glare formidably bright, and shine with death;
VARIATIONS. In fiery storms descends a murderous shower,
Ev'n the stern souls of heroes feel dismay; Thick flash the lightnings, fierce the thunders roar,
Proud temples nod, asp ring towers give way. As when in wrathful inood almighty Jove
Dreadfui it mounts, tempestuous in its flight, Aims his dire bolts red-bissing from above;
It sinks, it falls, Earth groans beneath its right. Through the sing'd air, with unresiste: sway,
Th’imprison') 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,
scars ! Nor careless dream of subterranean foes,
Or li ten till the raptur'd soul takes wings,
Charm me, ye sacred leaves”, with loftier themes, Wrap towers, walls, men, in fire, in blood, in death.
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; His wandering flock, and tunes the sprightly reed: Here through the flowery walks of Eden rove, Till from some rifted chasm the billows risé,
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, Bear me, ye friendly powers, to gentler scenes, Or gaze on visions from the throne of Heaven. To shady bowers, and never-fading greens ! Where the shrill trumpet never sounds alarms,
But nobler yet, far nobler scenes advance ! Nor martial din is heard, Ror clash of arms;
Why leap the mountains ? why the forests dance ? Hail, ye soft seats ! ye limpid springs and floods ! Why flashes glory from the golden spheres? Ye flowery meads, ye vales, and woods!
Rejoice, O Earth, a God, a Got appears! Ye limpij floods, that ever murmuring flow! A God, a God, descending angels sing, Ye verdant neads, where fowers eternal blow! And mighty Seraphs shout, Bebold your King! Ye shady vales, where Zephyrs ever play! Hail, virgin-born! Lift, lift, ye blind, your eyes! Ye woods, where little warblers tune their lay! Sing, oh! ye dumb! and on! ye dead, arise !
Tremble, ye gates of Hell! in noblest strains Here grant me, Heaven, to end my peaceful days, Tell it aloud, ye Heavens! the Saviour reigns! And steal myself from life by slow decays ;
Thus lonely, thoughtful, may I run the race Draw health from food the temperate garden yields, of transient life, in vio unuseful ease! From fruit or herb the bounty of the fields ;
Enjoy each hour, nor as it flects avay, Nor let the loaded table groan beneath
Think life too short, and yet too long the day; Slain animals, the horrid feast of Death :
Of right observant, while the soul attends With age unknown to pain or sorrow blest,
Each duty, and makes Heaven and angels friends, To the dark grave retiring as to rest;
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 While my freed soul departs without a groan,
In Conquest, that destruction of mankird! And, joyful, wings her flight to worlds unknown.
Unenvy'd may your laurels ever grow, Ye gloomy grots ! ye awful solemn cells, That never flourish but in human woe, Where holy thoughtfal Contemplation dwells, If never Earth the wreath triumphal bears, Guard me from splendid cares, and tiresome state, Till drench'd in heroes' blood, or orphans' tears. That pompous misery of being great!
Let Ganges from afar to slaughter train Happy! if by the wise and learn'd belov’d;
His sable warriors on th' embattled plain; But happiest above all, if self-approv'd !
Let Volga's sons in iron squadrons rise, Content with ease; ambitious to despise
And pour in millions from her frozen skies : Illustrious Vanity, and glorious Vice!
Thou, gentle Thames, flow thou in peaceful streams, Come, thou chaste maid, here ever let me stray, While the calm hours steal unperceived away;
Bid thy bold sons restrain their martial flames. Here court the Muses, while the Sun on high
In thy own laurel's shade, great Marlborough, Flames in the vault of Heaven, and fires the sky: There charm the thoughts of conquer'd worlds
saway: Or wbile the night's dark wings this globe sur
Guardian of England! born to scourge her foes, round, And the pale Moon begins her solemn round,
Speak, and thy word gives half the world repose ; Bid my free soal to starry orbs repair,
Sink down, ye hills; eternal rocks, subside ; Those radiant worlds that foat in ambient air,
Vanish, ye forts; thou, Ocean, drain thy tide:
We safety boast, defended by thy fame, And with a regular confusion stray
And armiria the terrour of tliy name!
Now tix o'er Anna's throne thy victor blade.
War, be thou chain'd! ye streams of blood, be Reclin'd in silence on a mossy bed,
stay'd! Consult the learned volumes of the dead;
Though wild Ambition her just vengeance feels, Fall'a realms and empires in description view,
She wars to save, and where she strikes, she heals. Live'o'er past times, and build whole worlds anew; So Pallas with her javelin smote the ground, Or from the bursting tombs in fancy raise And peaceful olives flourish'd from the wound. The sons of Fame, who liv'd in ancient days : And lo! with haughty stalk the warrior treads! Siera legislators, frowning, lift their heads !
· 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, BARON OF EYRE, WARDEN, CHIEF JUSTICE, AND JUSTICE Pleas'd he beholds the bright delusion play,
IN EYRE OF ALL HIS MAJESTY'S FORESTS, CHASES, 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 brakesz
Yet obstinate in wrong he toils to stray, -owcón σοι τούτο δίδωμι
With many a weary stride, o'er many a painful way: Mnuch
Odyssey, lib. 15. So man pursues the phantom of his brain,
And buys his disappointment with his pain : O
THOU, whose virtues sanctify thy state I At length when years invidiously destroy O great, without the vices of the great!
The power to taste the long-expected joy, Form'd by a dignity of mind to please,
Then Fortune envious sheds her golden show'ss, To think, to act with elegance and ease 8 !
Malignly smiles, and curses him with stores. Say, wilt thou listen while I tune the string, And sing to thee, who gav'st me ease to sing ?
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; Yet lowly shepherds sing to mighty Jove :
Ambrosial ointments o'er their ashes shed, And mighty Jove attends the shepherds' vows,
And scatter useless roses on the dead; And gracious what his suppliants ask bestows:
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 far remov'd from the mistaking eye ;
Shalt flourish on the fair-one's breast,
Shalt grace her hand, or deck her hair,
The flower most swect, 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,
Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose !
But thou, fair nymph, thyself survey
In this sweet offspring of a day:
That miracle of face must fail;
Thy charms are s«eet, but charms are frail ;
Swift as the short-liv'd flo'ter they fiy,
At morn they bloom, at evening die:
Though Sickness yet a while forbears, When Merit pleads, you meet it, and embrace,
Yet Time destroys what Sickness spares. And give the favour lustre by the grace;
Now Helen lives alone in fame, So Phæbus to his warmth a glory joins,
And Cleopatra 's but a name. Blessing the world, and while he blesses shines.
Tine must indent that heavenly brow,
And thou must be, what they are now. 1 The lord Cornwallis, in a most obliging manner, recoinmended the author to the rectory of This moral to the fair disclose, Pulham..
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 flow! 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 case 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 ląves, but my Belinda here, Where beauty with dumb eloquence persuades,
Where passions are beheld in picture wrought,
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 : Lore 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 more 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 limpid fountain we descry Ye fair, that would victorious prove,
The faint resemblance of the glittering sky; Seem but half kind, when most you lave: 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 Had Danaë the young, the fair,
Th'exalted skies in nobler beauties move; Reen free and unconfin'd as air,
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,
σιριέσαι γυναικών Eidss cioè ogiras.
Odyssey, lib. 18.
Tull. in Arateis.
TO MR, POPE,
ON HIS WORKS. 1726,
If aught on Earth, when once this breath is fled,
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 ;
Thus when thy draughts, O Raphael, Time in- This labour past, of heavenly subjects sing,
To hear from Earth such heart-felt raptures rise,
Or, nobly rising in fair Virtue's cause,
From thy own life transcribe th' unerring laws;
Teach a bad world beneath her sway to bend,
To verse like thine fierce savages attend,
And men more fierce! When Orpheus tunes the lay.
Ev'n tiends, relenting, hear their rage away.
PART OF THE TENTH BOOK OP
THE ILIANS OF HOMER.
IN THE STYLE OF MILTON.
Sleep shed his softest balm ; restless alone
Atrides lay, and cares revolv'd on cares.
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,
With flaming wings on lightnings lightnings play:
So while Atrides meditates the war,
Sighs after sighs burst from his manly breast,
And sinake his inmost soul : round o'er the fields
To Troy he turns his eyes, and round beholds
A thousand fires blaze dreadful; through his ears The slow verse heaves, and the clogg'd words scarce
Passes the direful symphony of war,
Of fife, or pipe, and the loud hum of hosts
Strikes him dismay'd: now o'er the Grecian tents
Rends the fair curl in sacrifice to Jove,
And his brave heart heaves with imperial woes.
A robe he threw, and on his royal feet
Glitter'd th' embroider'd sandals: o'er his back
A dreadful ornament, a lion's spoils,
With hideous grace down to his ankles hring;
Fierce in his hand he grasp'd a glittering spear.
Sleep from his temples fled, his generous heart
Felt all his people's woes, who in his cause
Territic clad his limbs, a brazen helm
Beam'd on his head, and in his hand a speas.
Forth from his tent the royal Spartan strode
To wake the king of mon; hiin vak'd he found
Clasping his polish'd arms; with rising joy
The heroes meet, the Spartan thus begun:
Why thus in arms, my prince? Send'st thou some *The author translated eight bookso the Odyssey.
'To view the Trojan hust? Alas! I fear (spy
Lest the most dauntless sons of glorious War "See the 16th Odyssey, Ver. 186, and 4 10. Shrink at the bold design! This task demands