Obrazy na stronie
PDF
ePub
[ocr errors]

race.

Hence, all ye impious slaves, that bow

At one wide view his eye surveys
To idol Justs, or altars raise,

His works, in every distant clime;
And to false heroes give fantastic praise !

He shifts the seasons, months, and days, And hence, ye gods, who to a crime your spurious The short-liv'd offspring of revolving Time; beings owe!

By turns they die, by turns are born. But hear, O Heaven, and Earth, and Seas profound ! Now cheerful Spring the circle leads, Hear, ye fathom'd Deeps below,

And strows with flowers the smiling meads; And let your echoing vaults repeat the sound; Gay Summer next, whom russet robes adorn, Let Nature, trembling all around,

And waving fields of yellow corn; Attend her Master's awful name,

Then Autumn, who with lavish stores the lap of From whom Heaven, Earth, and Seas, and all the Nature spreads; wide Creation came.

Decrepit Winter, laggard in the dance,

(Like feeble Age oppress'd with pain) He spoke the great command; and Light, A heavy season does maintain, Heaven's eldest-born and fairest child,

With driving snows, and winds, and rain;
Flash'd in the lowering face of ancient Night, Till Spring, recruited to advance,
And, pleas'd with its own birth, serenely smil'd. The various year rolls round again.

The sons of Morning, on the wing,
Hovering in choirs, his praises sung,

But who, thou great Ador'd! who can withstand When, from the unbounded vacuous space,

The terrours of thy lifted hand, A beauteous rising World they saw,

When, long provok'd, thy wrath awakes, When Nature show'd her yet unfinish'd face,

And conscious Nature to her centre shakes? And Motion took th' establish'd law

Rais'd by thy voice, the thunder flies, To roll the various globes on high;

Hurling pale Pear and wild Confusion round, When Time was taught his infant wings to try,

How dreadful is th' inimitable sound, And from the barrier sprung to his appointed

The shock of Earth and Seas, and labour of the

Skies!

Then where's Ambition's haughty crest? Supreme, Almighty, still the same!

Where the gay head of wanton Pride? 'Tis he, the great inspiring Mind,

See! tyrants fall, and wish the opening ground, *That animates and moves this universal frame, Would take them quick to shades of rest, Present at once in all, and by no place confin'd. And in their common parent's breast, Not Heaven itself can bound his sway;

From thee, their bury'd forms for ever hide! Beyond th' untravell'd limits of the sky,

In vain-for all the elements conspire, Invisible to mortal eye,

The shatter'd Earth, the rushing Sea, He dwells in uncreated day.

Tempestuous Air, and raging Fire, Without beginning, without end; 'tis he

To punish vile mankind, and fight for thee; That fiils th' unmeasurd growing orb of vast im- Nor Death itself can intercept the blow, mensity.

Eternal is the guilt, and without end the woe
What power but his can rule the changeful Main, O Cyrus! Alexander! Julius! all
And wake the sleeping Storin, or its loud rage re- Ye înighty Lords, that ever rul'd this ball!
strain ?

Once gods of Earth, the living destinies,
When Winds their gather'd forces try,

That made a hundred nations bow ! And the chaf’d Ocean proudly swells in vain, Where's your extent of empire now! His voice reclaims th' impetuous roar;

Say, where preserv'd your phantom Glory lies In murinuring tides th'abated billows fly,

Can brass the fleeting thing secure? And the spent tempest dies upon the shore.

Enshrin'd in temples does it stay? The meteor world is his, Heaven's wintry store, Or in huge amphitheatres endure The moulded hail, the feather'd snow;

The rage of rolling Time, and scorn decay? The summer breeze, the soft refreshing shower, Ah, no! the mouldering monuments of Fame The loose divided cloud, and many-colour'd bow; Your vain deluded hopes betray, The crooked lightning darts around,

Nor show th' ambitious founder's name, His sovereign orders to fulfil;

Mix'd with yourselves in the same mass of clay, The shooting flame obeys th' Eternal will,

Launch'd from his hand, instructed where to kill, Proceed, my Muse! Time's wasting thread pursue, Or rive the mountain oak, or blast th' unshelter'd

And see, at last, th' unravell'd clue,

When cities sink, and kingdoms are no more, ground.

And weary Nature shall her work give o'er. Yet, pleas'd to bless, indulgent to supply,

· Behold th' Almighty Judge on high! He, with a father's tender care,

See in his hand the book of Fate ! Supports the numerous family

Myriads of spirits fill the sky That peoples earth, and sea, and air.

Tattend, with dread solemnity, From Nature's giant race, th' enormous elephant, The World's last scene, and Time's concluding Down to the insect worm and creeping ant;

date. From th' eagle, sovereign of the sky,

The feeble race of short-livid Vanity, * To each inferior feather'd brood;

And sickly Pomp, at once shall die! From crowns and purple majesty,

Foul Guilt to midnight caves will shrink away, To humble shepherds on the plain,

Look back, and tremble in her flight, liis hand unseen, divides to all their food,

And curse at Heaven's pursuing light, And the whole world of life sustains.

Surrounded with the vengeance of that day,

How will you then, ye impious, 'scape your doom, When tlırice six hundred times the circling Suz Self-judg'd, abandon'd, overcome?

His annual race shall through the Zodiac run, Your clouds of painted bliss shall melt before your An'isle remote his monument shall rear, sight.

And every generous Briton pay a tear:”
Yet shall you not the giddy chase refrain,

Nor hope more solid bliss t' obtain,
Nor once repeat the joys you knew before;

ADVICE TO MR. POPE,
But sigh, a long eternity of pain,
Tost in an ocean of desire, yet never find a shore. ON HIS INTENDED TRANSLATION OF ROMER'S ILIAD,

1714. But see where the mild Sovereign sits prepard His better subjects to reward!

0 'Thou, who with a happy genius born, Where am I now! what power divine

Canst tuneful verse in flowing numbers turn, Transports me! what immortal splendours shine! Crown'd on thy Windsor's plains with early bars,

Torrents of glory that oppress the sight! Be early wise, nor trust to barren praise. What joys, celestial King! thy throne surround! Blind was the bard that sung Achilles' rage, The Sun, who, with thy borrow'd bcams so bright,

He sug, and begg'd, and curs'd th' ungiving age: Sees not his peer in all the starry round,

If Britain bis translated song would hear, Would here, diminish’d, fade away,

First take the gold-then charm the listening tar; Like his pale sister of the night,

So shall thy father Homer smile to see When she resigns her delegated light,

His pension paid-though late, and paid to thee Lost in the blaze of day. Here wonder only can take place;

Then, Muse, th' adventurous flight forbear! These mystic scenes thou canst no farther trace; Hope may come boundless future bliss embrace,

THE MEMORY OF MILTON. But what, or when, or how, or where,

HOMER'S DESCRIPTION OF HIMSELF, UNDER THE CH ** Are mazes all, which Fancy runs in vain;

RACTER OF DEMODOCHUS THE MUSICIAN, AT Nor can the narrow cells of human brain

FEAST OF KING ALCINOUS. The vast immeasurable thought contain.

FROM THE EIGHTH BOOK OF THE ODYSSEYS.
The Muse with transport lord him; yet, to fill

His various lot, she biendid good with ill;
TO MR. ADDISON,

Depriv’d him of his eyes, but did impart
The heavenly gift of song, and all the tuneful art.

TO

THE

ON HIS TRAGEDY OF CATO.

WITH THE TRAGEDY OF CATO,

Thougy Cato shines in Virgil's epic song,
Prescribing laws among th' Elysian throng;
Though Lucan's verse, exalted by his name,

TO A LADY,
O'er gods themselves has rais'd the hero's fame;
The Roman stage did ne'er bis image see,

Two shining maids this happy work displays;
Drawn at full length; a task reserv'd for thee.
By thee we view the finish'd figure rise,

Fach mores our rapture, both divide our praise ; And awful march before our ravish'd eyes;

In Marcja, we her godlike father trace; We hear his voice, asserting Virtue's cause;

While Lucia triumphis with each softer grace. His fate, renew'd, our deep attention draws,

One strikes with awe, and one gives chaste delight: Excites, by turns, our various hopes and fears,

That bright as lightning, this serene as light. And all the patriot in thy scene appears.

Yet by the Muse the shadow'd forins were wrought,

And both are creatures of the poet's thought. On Tyber's bank thy thought was first inspir'd;

In her that animates these lines, we view 'Twas there, to some indulgent grove retird,

The wonder greater, the description true; Rome's ancient fortunes rolling in thy mind,

Each living virtue, every grace combind, Thy happy Muse this manly work design'd:

And Marcia's worth with Lucia's sweetness join'd Or, in a dream, thou saw'st Rome's genius stand, And, leading Cato in his sacred hand,

Had she been born ally'd to Cato's name, Toint out th’immortal subject of thy lays,

Numidia's prince had felt a real fame; And ask this labour to record his praise.

And pouring his resistless troops from far,

With bolder deeds had turn'd the doubtful war; 'Tis done the hero lives and charms our 'age! Cæsar had fled before his conquering arms, While nobler morals grace the British stage. And Roman Muscs sung her beauty's charms Great Shakespeare's ghost, the solemn strain to

hear, (Methinks I see the laureld shade appear!) Will hover o'er the scene, and, wondering, view

A FRAGMENT. His favourite Brutus rival'd thus by you. Such Roman greatness in each action shines, PROMISCUOUS crowds to worthless riches born, Such Roman eloquence adorns your lines,

Thy pencil paints, 'tis true, yet paints with scoru. That sure the Sibyls books this year foretold, Sornetimes the fool, by Nature left half-made, And in some mystic leaf was found enroll’d, Mov d by some happy instinct, asks thy aid, “ Rome, turn thy mournful eyes from Afric's shore, To give his face to reason some pretence, Nor in her sands thy Cato's tomb explore! And raise his looks with supplemental senses

FIRST VOICE.

SERENATA FOR TWO VOICES,

HORATIUS.
ON THE MARRIAGE OF THE

IN LIBRO PRIMO EPISTOLARUM.
RIGHT HON. THE LORD COBHAM TO MRS. DIMIDIUM facti, qui cæpit, habet. Sapere aude:
ANNE HALSEY.

Incipe. Vivendi rectè qui prorogat huram,

Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis : at ille
DUETTO.

Labitur & labetur in omne volubilis ævum.
Ware th' harmonious voice and string,
Lore and Hymen's triumph sing.

TRANSLATED.
Sounds with secret charms combining,

To-MORROW cheats us all. Why dost thou stay In melodious union joining,

And leare undone what should be done to day? Best the wondrous joys can tell,

Begin--the present minute's in thy power ;
That in hearts united dwell.

But still t adjourn, and wait a fitter hour,
RECITATIVE.

Is like the clown, who at some river's side
Expecting stands, in hopes the running tide

Will all ere long be past-Fool! not to know
To Foung Victoria's happy fame,

It still has flow'd the same, and will for ever flow. Well may the Arts a trophy raise,

Music grows sweeter in her praise,
And osu'd by her, with rapture speaks her name.
To touch the brave Cleander's heart,

ON A COLLAR
The Graces all in her conspire;
Lure arms her with his surest dart,

PRESENTED FOR HAPPY CILL, 1712.
Apollo with his lyre.

Thow little farourite of the fair!

When thou these golden ban is shalt wear, The listening Muses, all around her,

The hand that binds them softly kiss, Think 'tis Phabus' strains they hear:

With conscious joy, and own thy bliss. Ar Cupid, drawing near to wound her,

Proud of his chain, who would not be
Drops his bow, and stands to hear.

A slave, to gain her smiles, like thee?
RECITATIVE.

SECOND VOICE.
While crowds of rivals, with despair,

THE CHARACTER OF THE
Slent aimire, or vainly court the fair;

LADY HENRIETTA CAVENDISH HOLLES, Behold the happy conquest of her eyes, A hero is the glorious prize!

1712-13. In courts, in camps, through distant realms reCleander comes-- Victoria, see, [nown'd,

Suct early wisdom, such a lovely face, He comes, with British honour crown'd;

Such modest greatness, such attractive grace; Lore leads his cager steps to thee.

Wit, beauty, goorlness, charity, and truth,

The riper sense of age, the bloom of youth!
AIR,

Whence is it, that in one fair piece we find
In tender sighs he silence breaks,

These various beauties of the female kind : The fair his fame approves.

Sure but in one such different charms agree, Gunzenting blushes warm her cheeks,

And Henrietta is that phenix-she. She smiles,-she yields,--she loves.

RECITATIVE.

AIR.

FIRST VOICE.

TRUTI, HONOUR, HONESTY.

THE MOTTO CHOSEN BY THE RIGHT HON, THL

Now Hymen at the altar stands,
Ani while he joins their faithful hands,
Behold! by ardent vows drawn down,
Immortal Concord, heavenly bright,
Array'd in robes of purest light,
Descends, th' auspicious rites to crown.
Her golden harp the goddess brings;

Its magic sound
Commands a sudden silence all around,
Ani strains prophetic thus attune the strings.

LADY HENRIETTA CAVENDISH HOLLES.
In thee, bright maid, though all the virtues shine,
With rival beams, and every grace is thine,
Yet three, distinguish'd by thy early voice,
Excite our praise, and well deserve thy choice.
Immortal Truth in Heaven itself displays
Her charms celestial born, and purest rays,
Which thence in streams, like golden sunshine, flow,
And shed their light on minds like yours below.

DUETTO.

I FOICE. The swain his nymph possessing,
TOICE.

The nymph her swain caressing, 1 and 2. Shall still improve the blessing.

For ever kind and true.
While rolling years are fying,
Love, Hymen's lamp supplying,
With fuel never dying,
Shall still the flame renew.

tore.

1 This lady, also celebrated by Mr. Prior in a beautiful oce, called Colin's Mistake, was afterwards married to Edward earl of Oxford, and was mother of the present dutchess dowager of Porto lande

Fair Honour, next in beauty and in grace,

Yet stone and brass our hopes betray, Shines in her turn, and claims the second place; Age steals the mimic forms and characters away. She fills the well-born soul with noble fires,

In vain, O Egypt, to the wondering skies, And generous thoughts and godlike acts inspires. With giant pride, thy pyramids arise; Then Honesty, with native air, succeeds,

Whate'er their vast and gloomy vaults contain, Plain is her look, unartful are her deeds;

No names distinct of their great dead remain. And, just alike to friends and foes, she draws

Beneath the mass confus'), iu heaps thy monarchs The bounds of right and wrong, nor errs from equal

Unknown, and blended in mortality. [lie, laws.

To Death ourselves and all our works we owe. From Hearen this scale of virtne thus descends

But is there nought, ( Muse, can save By just degrees, and thy full choice defends.

Our memories from larkness and the grave, So when, in visionary trains, by night

And some short after-life bestow ? Attending angels bless'd good Jacob's sight,

“ That task is mine," the Muse replies, The mystic ladder thus appear'd to rise',

And, hark! she tunes the sacred lyre! Its foot on earth, its summit in the skies.

Verse is the last of human works that dies,

When Virtue does the song inspire.
Then look, Eliza, happy saint, look down!

Pause from immortal joys awhile
HYMN.

To hear, and gracious, with a smile,
SUNG BY THE CHILDREN OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL, AT THE

The dedicated numbers own;

Say, how in thy life's scanty space,
ENTRY OF KING GEORGE

So short a space, so wondrous bright,
INTO LONDON, 1714.

Bright as a summer's day, short as a summer's night, Hear us, O God, this joyful day!

Could'st thou find room for every crowded grace? Whole natjons join their voice,

As if thy thrifty soul foreknew, To thee united thanks to pay,

Like a wise envoy, Heaven's intent,

Soon to recall whom it had sent, And in thy strength rejoice.

And all its task resolv'd at once to do. For led by thee, O King of Kings!

Or wert thou but a traveller below, Our sovereign George we sce;

That hither didst awhile repair, Thy hand the royal blessing brings,

Curious our customs and our laws to know? He comes, he reigns, by thee!

And, sickening in our grosser air,

And tirid of vain repeated sights, Plenteous of grace, pour from above

Our foolish cares, our false delights, Thy favours on his head;

Back to thy native seats would'st go? Truth, Mercy, Righteousness, and Love,

Oh! since to us thou wilt no more return, As guards around himn spread.

Permit thy friends, the faithful fow, With length of days, and glory crown'd,

Who best thy numerous virtues knew,
With wealth and fair increase,

Themselves, not thee, to mourn.
Let him abroad be tar renown'd,
Still blest at home with peace.

Now, pensive Muse, enlarge thy flight!
(By turns the pensive Muses love
The hilly heights and shady grove)
Behold where, swelling to the sight,

Balls, a fair structure, graceful stands!
A MONUMENTAL ODE,

And from yon verdant rising brow

Sees Hertford's ancient town, and lands,

Where Nature's hand, in slow meanders, leads MRS. ELIZABETH HUGHES,

The Lee's clear stream its course to flow LATE WIFE OF

Through flowery vales, and moisten’d meads,

And far around in beauteous prospects spreads EDWARD HUGHES, ESQ.

Her map of plenty all below.
OF HERTINGFORDBURY, IN THE COUNTY OF HERTFORD, 'Twas here—and sacred be the spot of earth!

AND DAUGHTER OF RICHARD HARRISON, ESQ. OF Eliza's soul, born first above,
BALLS, IN THE SAME COUNTY.

Descended to an humbler birth,

And with a mortal's frailties strove.
OBUT 15 NOV. MDCCXIV.

So, on some towering peak that meets the sky, See! how those dropping monuments decay !

When missive Seraphs downward fly,
Frail mansions of the silent dead,

They stop, and for awhile alight,
Whose souls, to uncorrupting regions fled,

Put off their rays celestial-bright, With a wise scorn their mouldering dust survey.

Then take some milder form familiar to our eye, Their tombs are rais'd from dust as well as they; For see! to dust they both return,

Swiftly her infant virtues grew :

Water'd hy Heaven's peculiar care,
And Time consumes alike the ashes and the urn.

Her morning bloon was doubly fair,
We ask the sculptor's art in vain

Like Summer's day-break, when we see To make us for a space ourselver survive;

The fresh-iropp'd stores of rosy dew In Parian stone we proudly breathe again,

(Transparent beauties of the daun) Or seen in ligur'd brass to live

Spread v'er the grass their cobreb-faus,

TO THE MEMORY OF

Or hang moist pearls on every tree.

Send me to Whigs as true and hearty, Pleas'd with the lovely sight, awhile

As ever pity'd poor Maccarty; Her friends behold, and joyful smile,

Let Townshend, Sunderland, be there, Not think the Sun's exhaling ray

Or Robin Walpole in the chair; WiH change the scene ere noon of day, Or send me to a club of Tories, Dry up the glistering drops, and draw those dews That damn and curse at Marlborough's glor'es. away.

And drink-but sure none such there are !

The Devil, the pope, and rebel Mar; Yet first, to fill her orb of life,

Yet still my loyalty I'll boast, Behold, in each relation dear,

King George shall ever be iny toast; The pious saint, the duteous child appear, l'nbrib'd his glorious cause I'll own, The tender sister, and the faithful wife.

And fearless scorn each traitor's frown.
Alas! but must one circlet of the year

l'nite in bliss, in grief divide
The destin'd bridegroom and the bride?
Stop, gegerous youth, the gathering tear,
That, as you read these lines or hear,

A FR.1GMENT. Perhaps may start, and seem to say, O say, ye saints, who sbine in realms above, “ That short-liv'd year was but a day!”

And tune your harps to sing eternal love, Forbcar-nor fruitless sorrowings now employ, When shall my voice attain your high degree; Think she was lent awhile, not given,

When shall my soul, froin clouds of sorrow free, (Such was th' appointed will of Heaven) Hear your celestial song, and aid the harmony? Then, grateful, call that year an age of virtuous

joy.

APOLLO AND DAPHNE.

AN ALLUSION TO HORACE.

A MASQUE.

BOOK I.

ODE XXII.

SET TO MUSIC BY DR. PT PUSCH.

AND PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL IN DRURY

LANE.

Protinus alter amat; fugit altera nomen amantis.

Ovid.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.
Apollo .

MRS. MARGARITA
Duphne .

MRS. BARBIER.
Peneus

MR. TURYER.
Doris .

MRS. WILLIS.

SCENE, THE VALLEY OF TEMPE, IN THESSALY.

APOLLO AND DAPHNE.

THE FIRST SCENE IS A RIVER.

PRINTED AT THE BREAKING OUT OF THE REBELLION

IN THE YEAR 1715.
The man that loves his king and nation,
And shuns each vile association,
That trusts his honest deeds i' th' light,
Nor meets in dark cabals, by night,
With fools, who, after much debate,
Get themselves hang'd, and save the state,
Seeds not his hall with weapons store ;
Nor dreads each rapping at bis door;
Nor sculks, in fear of being known,
Or hides bis guilt in parson's gown;
Nor wants, to guard his generous heart,
The poniard or the poison'd dart;
And, but for ornament and pride,
A sword of lath might cross his side.

If o'er St. James's park he stray,
He stops not, pausing in his way;
Nor pulls his hat down o'er his face,
Nor starts, looks back, and mends his pace:
Or if he ramble to the Tower,
He knows no crime, and dreads no power,
But thence returning, free as wind,
Smiles at the bars he left behind.
Thus, as I loiter'd ť other day,
Humming- every month was May-
And, thoughtless how my time I squander'd,
From Whitehall, through the Cockpit wanderd,
A messenger with surly eye
View'd me quite round, and yet pass'd by.
No sharper look or rougher mien
'In Scoctish higblands e'er was secn;
Nor ale and brandy ever bred
More pimpled cheeks, or nose more red;
And yet, with both bands in my breast,
Careless I walk'd, nor shunn'a the beast.

Place me among a hundred spies,
Let all the room be ears and eyes;
Or search my pocket-books and papers,
No word or line sball give me vapours.

VOL X,

Pencus, a river-god, appears on a bed of rushes,

leaning on his urn. He rises and comes forward,
his head crowned with rushes and flowers, a rece!
in his hand.

PENEL'S.
How long must Peneus chide in vain

His daughter's coyness and disdain?
Through Teinpe's pleasant vales and bowers
As my full ur its current pours,
In every plain, from every grove

I hear the sighs of slighted love;
And on my rushy banks the Sylvans cry

Why ever cruel, Daphne, why?
But see she comes, the beauteous cause;
Daphne, my just commands attend,

Hear me, thy father and thy friend,
And yield at last to Love and Hymen's laws.

DAPHNE.
O Peneus, urge this cruel suit no inore;
Hare I nyt tu Diana swore ?

E

« PoprzedniaDalej »