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BY EARL HARDWICKE.
Fame heard with pleasure—straight replied,
LETTER TO EARL HARDWICKE:
OCCASIONED BY THE FORF.COING VERSES.
A Thousand thanks to your lordship for your addition to my verses. If you can write such extempore, it is well for other poets, that you chose to be lord chancellor, rather than laureat. They explain to me a vision I had the night before.
Methought I saw before my feet,
HYMEN TO ELIZA.
Macam, before your feet I lay
For you alone I now thmk fit
Dear child, let Hymen not beguile
READING MISS CARTER'S POEMS
Such were the notes that struck the wondering ear
Of silent Night, when, on the verdant banks
Of Siloe's hallow'd brook, celestial harps,
According to seraphic voices, sung
Glory to God on hi^h, and on the earth
Peace and good-will to men /.—Resume the lyre,
Chauntress divine, and every Briton call
Its melody to hear—so shall thy strains,
More powerful than the song of Orpheus, tame
The savage heart of brutal Vice, and bend
At pure Religion's shrine the stubborn knees
Of bold Impiety.—Greece shall no more
Of Lesbian Snppho boast, whose wanton Muse,
Like a false Syren, while she charm'd, sedue'd
To guilt and ruin. For the sacred head
Of Britain's poetess, the Virtues twine
A nobler wreath, by them from Eden's grove
Unfading gather'd, and direct the hand
Of to fix it on her brows.
The gods, on thrones celestial seated,
By Jove, with bowls of nectar heated,
All on Mount Edgceunibe turn'd their eyes;
"That place is mine," great Neptune cries:
"Behold! how proud o'er all the main
Those stately turrets seem to rc'gn!
No views so grand on Farth you see!
The master too belongs to me:
I grant hiin my domain to share,
I bid his hand my trident bear."
"The sea is your's, but mind the land," Pallas replies; "by me were plann'd Those towers, that hospital, those docks, That tort, which crowns those island rocks: The lady too is of my choir, I taught her hand to touch the lyre;
INVITATION....TO COLONEL DRUMGOLD....EPITAPH.
With every charm her mind I grae'd,
u Hold, madam," interrupted Venus, "The lady must he shard between us: And surely mine is yonder grove, So fine, so dark, so fit for love; Trees, such as in th' Idaiian glade, Or Cyprian lawn, my palace shade."
Then Oreads, Dryads, Naiads, came; Each nymph alleg'd her lawful claim.
But Jove, to finish the debate, Thus spoke, and what he speaks is fate: "Nor god nor goddess, great or small, That dwelling his or her's may call; I made Mount Edgecumhe for you all."
TO THE DOWAGER DUTCHESS 1i'a let' I M OS.
Whin Peace shall, on her downy wing,
Dicmcotn, whose ancestors from Alhion's shore
Their conquering standards to Hihcmia hore,
Though now thy valour, to thy country lost,
Shines in the foremost ranks of Gallia's host,
Think not that France shall horrow all thy fame—
From British sires deriv'd thy genins came:
It* force, its energy, to these it ow'd,
But the fair polish Gallia's clime hestow'd:
The Graces there each ruder thought refin'd,
And liveliest wit with soundest sense comhin'd.
They taught in sportive Fancy's gay attire
To dress the gravest of th' Aonian choir,
And gave to soher Wisdom's wrinkled cheek
The smile that dwells in Hehe's dimple sleek.
Pay to each realm the debt that each may ask:
Be thine, and thine ajone, the pleasing task,
In purest elegance of Gallic phrase
To clothe the spirit of the British lays.
Thus every flower which every Muse's hand
Has rais'd profuse in Britain's favourite land,
By thee transplanted to the hanks of Seine,
In sweetest native odours shall retain.
And when thv nohle friend, with olive crown'd,
hi Concord's golden chain has firmly hound
The rival nations, thou for hoth Shalt raise
The grateful song to his immortal praise.
Alhion shall think she hears her Prior sing;
And France, that lioileau strikes the tuneful string,
Then shalt thou tell what various talents join'd,
Adorn, emhellish, and exalt his mind;
Learning and wit, with sweet politeness grae'd;
Wisdom hy guile or ennning undehas'd;
By pride unsullied, genuine dignity;
A nohler and suhlime simplicity.
Such in thy verse shall Nivernois he shown:
France shall with joy the fair resemhlance own;
And Alhion sighing hid her sons aspire
To imitate the merit they admire.
EPITAPH ON CAPTAIN GRKNVILLE';
KILLED IN LORD ANSON'S ENCACEMCNT IN I747.
Ye weeping Muses, Graces, Virtues, tell
WRITTEN AT ETON-SCHOOL, I729.
Tett me, ye sons of Phrehus, what is this
i These verses having heen originally written when the author was in opposition, concluded thus, (much better, perhaps, than at present):
But nohler far, and greater is the praise
But some years after, when his lordship was with ministry, he erased these four lines. See Gent . Malf. vol. xlix. p. 60I. A.
SOME ADDITIONAL STANZAS
ASTOLFO'S VOYAGE TO THE MOON,
When now Astolfo, stor'd within a vase,
He tum'd his eyes towards another place, Where, closely cork'd, imiiiiniber'd bottles lay.
Of finest crystal were those bottles made, Yet what was there enclos'd he could not see:
Wherefore in humble wise the saint he pray'd,
"A wondrous thing it is," the saint replied,
An airy essence, not to be descried,
Subtle and thin, that Maidenhead is hight
"From Earth each day in troops they hither come,
And fill each hole and corner of the Moon; For they are never easy while at home,
Nor ever owner thought them gone too soon.
"When here arriv'd, they are in bottles pent,
And hard it is a prison to invent,
"Those that to young and wanton girls belong
So spake the saint, and wonder seiz'd the knight,
Virginities, that close confm'd he thought
But much his wrath increas'd, when he espied
"Ah, false and treacherous fugitive!" he cried, "Little I deem'd that I should meet thee here.
"Did not thy owner, when we parted last, Promise to keep thee safe for me alone?
Scarce of our absence three short months are past, And thou already from thy post art flown.
"Be not enrag'd," replied th' apostle kind—
Take it away; and, when thou hast a mind,
"Thanks, holy father!" quoth the joyous knight, "The Moon shall be no loser by your grace:
Let me but have the use on't for a night,
TO A YOUNG LADY.
WITH THE TRAOEDY OF VENICE PRESERVED.
In tender Otway's moving scenes we find
In wretched Jaffier, we with pity view
But she, who urg'd him to that pious deed, Who knew so well the patriot's cause to plead, Whose conquering love her country's safety won, Was, by that fatal love, herself undone. 1 " Hence may we learn, what passion fain would hide, That Hymen's bands by prudence should be tied, Venus in vain the wedded pair would crown, If angry Fortune on their union frown: Soon will the flattering dreams of joys be o'er, And cloy'd imagination cheat no more; Then, waking to the sense of lasting pain, With mutual tears the bridal couch they stain: And that fond love, which should afford relief, Does but augment the anguish of their gTicf: While both could easier their own sorrows bear, Than the sad knowledge of each other's care."
May all the joys in Love and Fortune's power Kindly combine to grace your nuptial hour! On each glad day may plenty shower delight. And warmest rapture bless each welcome night! May Heaven, that gave you Belvidera's charms, Destine some happier Jaffier to your arms, Whose bliss misfortune never may allay, Whose fondness never may through care decay; Whose wealth may place you in the fairest light, And force each modest beauty into sight! So shall no anxious want your peace destroy, No tempest crush the tender buds of joy; But all your hours in one gay circle move, Nor Reason ever disagree with Love!
Tell me, my heart, fond slave of hopeless love,
1 The twelve following lines, with some small variations, already have been printed in Advice to a Lady, p. 175; but, as lord Lyttelton chose to introduce them here, it was thought more eligible to repeat these few lines, than to suppress the rest of the poem.
INSCRIPTION....SULPICIA TO CERINTIIUS.
Canst thou exclude that hahitant divine,
0 Waller! Petrarch! you who tun'd the lyre
FOR A BUST OF LADY SUFFOLK; DESIGNED TO BE SET UP IN A WOOD AT STOWS.
He« wit and beauty for a court were made: But truth and goodness fit her for a shade.
SULPICIA TO CERINTHUS,
IN HER SICKNESS.
Sat, my Cerinthus, does thy tender breast
SULPICIA TO CERINTHUS.
I 'h weary of this tedious dull deceit;
CAWS SPEECH TO LABIENUS,
IN TITe NINTH BOOE OF LUCAN.
(Quid quaeri, Lahiene, juhes, 4cc.)
What, Lahieous, would thy fond desire,
Fix'd in my heart these constant truths I hear, And Ammon cannot write them deeper there.
Our souls, allied to God, within them feel The secret dictates of the almighty will: This is his voice, he this our oracle. When first his hreath the seeds of life instill'd. All that we ought to know was then reveal'd. Nor can we think the omnipresent mind Has truth to Lihya's desert sands confin'd, There, known to few, ohscur'd, and lost, to lie—I Is there a temple of the Deity, Except earth, sea, and air, yon azure pole; And chief, his holiest shrine, the virtuous soul? Where'er the eye can pierce, the feet can move, This wide, this houndless universe is Jove. Let ahject minds, that douht hecause they fear. With pious awe tojuggling priests repair; I credit not what lying prophets tell— Death is the only certain oracle. Cowards and hrave must die one destin'd hour— This Jove has told; he needs uot tell us more.
TO MR. GLOVER; ON HIS POEM OF LEONIDAS.
Go on, my friend, the noble task pursue,
Hence, wretched nation, all thy woes arise,
O people, far unlike the Grecian race,
Rouze, Britons, rouze! if sense of shame be weak,
And thou, great poet, in whose nervous lines
TO WILLIAM PITT, ES2UIRE,
ON HIS LOSING HIS COMMISSION,
Love had thy virtues mark'd thee out for fame,
PROLOGUE TO THOMSONS CORIOLANUS.
SPOKEN BY MR. Q.I'IN.
I Come not here your candour to implore For scenes, whose author is, alas! no more;
lie wants no advocate his cause to plead;You will yourselves he patrons of the dead. No party his henevolence confin'd,
No sect—alike it flow'd to all mankind. He lov'd his friends (forgive this gushing tear: Alas! I feel I am no actor here) He lov'd his friends with such a warmth of heart, So clear of interest, so devoid of art, Such generous friendship, such unshaken zeal, No words can speak it: but our tears may tell.— O candid truth, O faith without a stain, O manners gently firm, and nobly plain, O sympathizing love of othera' hliss,
Where will you find another breast like his?Such was the man—the poet well you know: Oft has he touch'd your hearts with tender woe:Oft in this crowded house, with just applause, You heard him teach fair Virtue's purest laws;For his chaste Museemploy'd her heaven-taught lyre
None but the nohlest passions to inspire, Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, One line, which dying he could wish to hlot.
'Oh! may to-night your favourable doom Another laurel add, to grace his tomh: Whilst he, superior now to praise or hlame, Hears not the feeble voice of human fame.
Yet, if to those whom most on Earth he lov'd,
EPILOGUE TO LILLO'S ELMERICK.
You, who, supreme o'er every work of wit,