The Poetical Works of Elijah Fenton/An Epistle to Thomas Lambard, Esq.
AN EPISTLE
TO THOMAS LAMBARD, ESQ.
Omnia me tua delectant; sed maxime, maxima cum fides in amicitia,
consilium, gravitas, constantia; tum lepos, humanitas, literæ.
Cicero, Lib. xi. Ep. 27.
consilium, gravitas, constantia; tum lepos, humanitas, literæ.
Cicero, Lib. xi. Ep. 27.
Slow tho' I am to wake the sleeping lyre,
Yet should the Muse some happy song inspire,
Fit for a friend to give, and worthy thee,
That fav'rite verse to Lambard I decree:
Such may the Muse inspire, and make it prove 5
A pledge and monument of lasting love!
Mean-time intent the fairest plan to find
To form the manners and improve the mind,
Me the fam'd wits of Rome and Athens please,
By Orrery's indulgence wrapt in ease, 10
Whom all the rival Muses strive to grace
With wreaths familiar to his letter'd race:
Now Truth's bright charms employ my serious thought,
In flowing eloquence by Tully taught;
Then from the shades of Tusculum I rove, 15
And studious wander in the Grecian grove,
While wonder and delight the soul engage
To sound the depths of Plato's sacred page;
Where Science in attractive fable lies,
And, veil'd, the more invites her lover's eyes. 20
Transported thence, the flow'ry heights I gain
Of Pindus, and admire the warbling train,
Whose wings the Muse in better ages prun'd,
And their sweet harps to moral airs attun'd.
As night is tedious while, in love betray'd, 25
The wakeful youth expects the faithless maid;
As weary'd hinds accuse the ling'ring sun,
And heirs impatient wish for twenty-one;
So dull to Horace[1] did the moments glide,
'Till his free Muse her sprightly force employ'd 30
To combat vice, and follies to expose,
In easy numbers near ally'd to prose:
Guilt blush'd and trembled when she heard him sing;
He smil'd reproof, and tickled with his sting.
With such a graceful negligence exprest, 35
Wit, thus apply'd, will ever stand the test:
But he who, blindly led, by whimsy strays,
And from gross images would merit praise,
When Nature sets the noblest stores in view,
Affects to polish copper in Peru; 40
So while their seas on barren sands are cast,
The saltness of their waves offends the taste,
But when to heav'n exhal'd, in fruitful rain
And fragrant dews they fall, to cheer the swain,
Revive the fainting flow'rs, and swell the meagre grain.
Be this their care who, studious of renown, 46
Toil up th'Aonian steep to reach the crown;
Suffice it me that (having spent my prime
In picking epithets and yoking rhyme)
To steadier rule my thoughts I now compose, 50
And prize ideas clad in honest prose.
Old Dryden, emulous of Cæsar's praise,
Cover'd his baldness with immortal bays;
And Death, perhaps to spoil poetic sport,
Unkindly cut an Alexandrine short: 55
His ear had a more lasting itch than mine
For the smooth cadence of a golden line.
Should lust of verse prevail, and urge the man
To run the trifling race the boy began,
Mellow'd with sixty winters, you might see 60
My circle end in second infancy:
I might ere long an awkward humour have
To wear my bells and coral to the grave,
Or round my room alternate take a course,
Now mount my hobby, then the Muses' horse. 65
Let others wither gay, but I'd appear
With sage decorum in my easy chair;
Grave as Libanius slumb'ring o'er the laws,
Whilst gold and party zeal decide the cause.
A nobler task our riper age affords 70
Than scanning syllables and weighing words.
To make his hours in even measures flow,
Nor think some fleet too fast and some too slow;
Still equal in himself, and free to taste
The Now, without repining at the Past; 75
Nor the vain prescience of the spleen t'employ,
To pall the flavour of a promis'd joy;
To live tenacious of the golden mean,
In all events of various fate serene;
With virtue steel'd, and steady to survey 80
Age, death, disease, or want, without dismay:
These arts, my Lambard! useful in their end,
Make man to others and himself a friend.
Happiest of mortals he who, timely wise,
In the calm walks of truth his bloom enjoys; 85
With books and patrimonial plenty blest,
Health in his veins, and quiet in his breast!
Him no vain hopes attract, no fear appals,
Nor the gay servitude of courts enthrals,
Unknowing how to mask concerted guile 90
With a false cringe, or undermining smile;
His manners pure, from affectation free,
And prudence shines thro' clear simplicity.
Tho' no rich labours of the Persian loom,
Nor the nice sculptor's art, adorn his room, 95
Sleep unprovok'd will softly seal his eyes,
And innocence the want of down supplies;
Health tempers all his cups, and at his board
Reigns the cheap luxury the fields afford:
Like the great Trojan, mantled in a cloud, 100
Himself unseen, he sees the lab'ring crowd,
Where all industrious to their ruin run,
Swift to pursue what most they ought to shun.
Some, by the sordid thirst of gain controll'd,
Starve in their stores, and cheat themselves for gold,
Preserve the precious bane with anxious care, 106
In vagrant lusts to feed a lavish heir:
Others devour Ambition's glitt'ring bait,
To sweat in purple, and repine in state;
Devote their pow'rs to ev'ry wild extreme 110
For the short pageant of a pompous dream;
Nor can the mind to full perfection bring
The fruits it early promis'd in the spring,
But in a public sphere those virtues fade,
Which open'd fair and flourish'd in the shade: 115
So while the Night her ebon sceptre sways,
Her fragrant blooms the Indian plant[2] displays;
But the full day the short-liv'd beauties shun,
Elude our hopes, and sicken at the sun.
Fantastic joys in distant views appear, 120
And tempt the man to make the rash career.
Fame, pow'r, and wealth, which glitter at the goal,
Allure his eye, and fire his eager soul:
For these are ease and innocence resign'd;
For these he strips; farewell the tranquil mind! 125
Headstrong, he urges on till vigour fails,
And gray experience (but too late!) prevails:
But in his ev'ning view the hoary fool,
When the nerves slacken and the spirits cool;
When joy and blushy youth forsake his face, 130
Sicklied with age, and sour with self-disgrace;
No flavour then the sparkling cups retain,
Music is harsh, the Syren sings in vain.
To him what healing balm can art apply
Who lives diseas'd with life, and dreads to die? 135
In that last scene, by Fate in sables dress'd,
Thy pow'r, triumphant Virtue! is confess'd;
Thy Vestal flames diffuse celestial light
Thro' Death's dark vale, and vanquish total night;
Lenient of anguish, o'er the breast prevail, 140
When the gay toys of flatt'ring Fortune fail.
Such, happy Twisden! (ever be thy name
Mourn'd by the Muse, and fair in deathless fame!)
While the bright effluence of her glory shone
Were thy last hours, and such I wish my own: 145
So caffra bruis'd exhales her rich perfumes,
And incense in a fragrant cloud consumes,
Most spoil the boon that Nature's pleas'd t'impart
By too much varnish or by want of art:
By solid science all her gifts are grac'd, 150
Like gems new polish'd, and with gold enchas'd.
Votes to th' unletter'd 'squire the laws allow,
As Rome receiv'd dictators from the plough:
But arts, address, and force of genius, join
To make a Hanmer in the senate shine. 155
Yet one presiding pow'r in ev'ry breast
Receives a stronger sanction than the rest;
And they who study and discern it well
Act unrestrain'd, without design excel,
But court contempt, and err without redress, 160
Missing the master-talent they possess.
Whiston perhaps in Euclid may succeed,
But shall I trust him to reform my creed?
In sweet assemblage ev'ry blooming grace
Fix Love's bright throne in Teraminta's face, 165
With which her faultless shape and air agree,
But, wanting wit, she strives to repartee;
And, ever prone her matchless form to wrong,
Lest Envy should be dumb she lends her tongue.
By long experience D———y may, no doubt, 170
Ensnare a gudgeon, or sometimes a trout;
Yet Dryden once exclaim'd (in partial spite)
"He fish!"—because the man attempts to write.
Oh! if the water-nymphs were kind to none
But those the Muses bathe in Helicon, 175
In what far distant age would Belgia raise
One happy wit to net the British seas!
Nature permits her various gifts to fall
On various climes, nor smiles alike on all:
The Latian vales eternal verdure wear, 180
And flow'rs spontaneous crown the smiling year;
But who manures a wild Norwegian hill
To raise the jasmine or the coy jonquil?
Who finds the peach among the savage floes,
Or in bleak Scythia seeks the blushing rose? 185
Here golden grain waves o'er the teeming fields,
And there the vine her racy purple yields.
High on the cliffs the British oak ascends,
Proud to survey the seas her pow'r defends;
Her sov'reign title to the flag she proves, 190
Scornful of softer India's spicy groves.
These instances, which true in fact we find,
Apply we to the culture of the mind.
This soil, in early youth improv'd with care,
The seeds of gentle science best will bear; 195
That with more particles of flame inspir'd,
With glitt'ring arms and thirst of fame is fir'd;
Nothing of greatness in a third will grow,
But barren as it is 't will bear a beau.
If these from Nature's genial bent depart, 200
In life's dull farce to play a borrow'd part;
Should the sage dress, and flutter in the Mall,
Or leave his problems for a birth-night ball;
Should the rough homicide unsheath his pen,
And in heroics only murder men; 205
Should the soft fop forsake the lady's charms,
To face the foe with inoffensive arms,
Each would variety of acts afford,
Fit for some new Cervantes to record.
"Whither," you cry, "tends all this dry discourse?
"To prove, like Hudibras, a man's no horse? 211
"I look'd for sparkling lines, and something gay,
"To frisk my fancy with; but, sooth to say!
"From her Apollo now the Muse elopes,
"And trades in syllogisms more than tropes." 215
Faith, Sir, I see you nod, but can't forbear;
When a friend reads, in honour you must hear:
For all enthusiasts, when the fit is strong,
Indulge a volubility of tongue:
Their fury triumphs o'er the men of phlegm, 220
And, council-proof, will never baulk a theme;
So Burgess on his tripod rav'd the more
When round him half the saints began to snore.
To lead us safe th'ro' error's thorny maze
Reason exerts her pure ethereal rays; 225
But that bright daughter of eternal day
Holds in our mortal frame a dubious sway.
Tho' no lethargic fumes the brain invest,
And opiate all her active pow'rs to rest;
Tho' on that magazine no fevers seize, 230
To calcine all her beauteous images;
Yet banish'd from the realms by right her own,
Passion, a blind usurper, mounts the throne;
Or, to known good preferring specious ill,
Reason becomes a cully to the will. 235
Thus man, perversely fond to roam astray,
Hoodwinks the guide assign'd to shew the way,
And in life's voyage like the pilot fares
Who breaks the compass, and contemns the stars,
To steer by meteors, which at random fly, 240
Preluding to a tempest in the sky.
Vain of his skill, and led by various views,
Each to his end a diff'rent path pursues;
And seldom is one wretch so humble known
To think his friend's a better than his own: 245
The boldest they who least partake the light,
As game-cocks in the dark are train'd to fight.
Nor shame nor ruin can our pride abate,
But what became our choice we call our fate.
"Villain," said Zeno to his pilf'ring slave, 250
"What frugal Nature needs I freely gave;
"With thee my treasure I depos'd in trust,
"What could provoke thee now to prove unjust?"
"Sir, blame the stars," felonious culprit cry'd:
"We 'll by the statute of the stars be try'd. 255
"If their strong influence all our actions urge,
"Some are foredoom'd to steal—and some to scourge:
"The beadle must obey the Fates' decree,
"As pow'rful Destiny prevail'd with thee."
This Heathen logic seems to bear too hard 260
On me, and many a harmless modern bard:
The critics hence may think themselves decreed
To jerk the wits, and rail at all they read;
Foes to the tribe from which they trace their clan,
As monkies draw their pedigree from man; 265
To which (tho' by the breed our kind 's disgrac'd)
We grant superior elegance of taste;
But in their own defence the wits observe,
That by impulse from Heav'n they write and starve;
Their patron planet with resistless pow'r 270
Irradiates ev'ry poet's natal hour,
Engend'ring in his head a solar heat,
For which the college has no sure receipt,
Else from their garrets would they soon withdraw,
And leave the rats to revel in the straw. 275
Nothing so much intoxicates the brain
As Flatt'ry's smooth insinuating bane:
She on th' unguarded ear employs her art,
While vain self-love unlocks the yielding heart;
And reason oft' submits when both invade, 280
Without assaulted, and within betray'd.
When flatt'ry's magic mists suffuse the sight,
The don is active and the boor polite;
Her mirror shews perfection thro' the whole,
And ne'er reflects a wrinkle or a mole; 285
Each character in gay confusion lies,
And all alike are virtuous, brave, and wise:
Nor fail her fulsome arts to sooth our pride,
Tho' praise to venom turns if wrong apply'd.
Me thus she whispers while I write to you: 290
"Draw forth a banner'd host in fair review;
"Then ev'ry Muse invoke thy voice to raise,
"Arms and the man to sing in lofty lays,
"Whose active bloom heroic deeds employ,
"Such as the son of Thetis[3] sung at Troy, 295
"When his high-sounding lyre his valour rais'd
“To emulate the demi-gods he prais’d.
"Like him the Briton, warm at honour's call,
"At fam'd Blaragnia quell'd the bleeding Gaul;
"By France the genius of the fight confest, 300
"For which our patron saint adorns his breast."—
Is this my friend who sits in full content,
Jovial, and joking with his men of Kent,
And never any scene of slaughter saw,
But those who fell by physic or the law? 305
Why is he for exploits in war renown'd,
Deck'd with a star, with bloody laurels crown'd?
O often prov'd, and ever sound sincere!
Too honest is thy heart, thy sense too clear,
On these encomiums to vouchsafe a smile, 310
Which only can belong to great Argyle.
But most among the brethren of the bays
The dear enchantress all her charms displays,
In the sly commerce of alternate praise.
If, for his father's sins condemn'd to write, 315
Some young half-feather'd poet takes a flight,
And to my touchstone brings a puny ode,
Which Swift, and Pope, and Prior, would explode;
Tho' ev'ry stanza glitters thick with stars,
And goddesses descend in ivory cars, 320
Is it for me to prove in ev'ry part
The piece irregular by laws of art?
His genius looks but awkward, yet his fate
May raise him to be premier bard of state;
I therefore bribe his suffrage to my fame, 325
Revere his judgment and applaud his flame;
Then cry, in seeming transport, while I speak,
"'Tis well for Pindar that he dealt in Greek!"
He, conscious of desert, accepts the praise,
And, courteous, with increase the debt repays. 330
Boileau 's a mushroom if compar'd to me,
And, Horace, I dispute the palm with thee!
Both, ravish'd, sing Te Phœbum for success;
Rise swift, ye Laurels! Boy! bespeak the press.—
Thus on imaginary praise we feed; 335
Each writes till all refuse to print or read:
From the records of fame condemn'd to pass
To Brisquet's calendar[4], a rubric ass.
Few, wondrous few! are eagle-ey'd to find
A plain disease or blemish in the mind: 340
Few can, tho' wisdom should their health ensure,
Dispassionate and cool attend a cure.
In youth disus'd t' obey the needful rein,
Well pleas'd a savage liberty to gain,
We sate the keen desire of ev'ry sense, 345
And lull our age in thoughtless indolence:
Yet all are Solons in their own conceit,
Tho', to supply the vacancy of wit,
Folly and Pride, impatient of control,
The sister-twins of Sloth, possess the soul. 350
By Kneller were the gay Pumilio drawn,
Like great Alcides, with a back of brawn:
I scarcely think his picture would have pow'r
To make him fight the champions of the Tow'r,
Tho' lions there are tolerably tame, 355
And civil as the court from which they came:
But yet, without experience, sense, or arts,
Pumilio boasts sufficiency of parts;
Imagines he alone is amply fit
To guide the state, or give the stamp to wit: 360
Pride paints the mind with an heroic air,
Nor finds he a defect of vigour there.
When Philomel of old essay'd to sing,
And in his rosy progress hail'd the spring,
T'h' aëríal songsters, list'ning to the lays, 365
By silent ecstasy confess'd her praise.
At length, to rival her enchanting note,
The peacock strains the discord of his throat,
In hope his hideous shrieks would grateful prove,
But the nice audience hoot him thro' the grove: 370
Conscious of wanted worth, and just disdain,
Low'ring his crest, he creeps to Juno's fane,
To his protectress there reveals the case,
And for a sweeter voice devoutly prays.
Then thus reply'd the radiant goddess, known 375
By her fair rolling eyes and rattling tone:
"My fav'rite Bird! of all the feather'd kind we
"Each species had peculiar gifts assign'd;
"The tow'ring eagles to the realms of light
"By their strong pounces claim a regal right; 380
"The swan, contented with an humbler fate,
"Low on the fishy river rows in state;
"Gay starry plumes thy length of train bedeck,
"And the green em'rald twinkles on thy neck;
"But the poor nightingale, in mean attire, 385
"Is made chief warbler of the woodland choir:
"These various bounties were dispos'd above,
"And ratify'd th' unchanging will of Jove.
"Discern thy talent, and his laws adore;
"Be what thou wert design'd, nor aim at more." 390
Yet should the Muse some happy song inspire,
Fit for a friend to give, and worthy thee,
That fav'rite verse to Lambard I decree:
Such may the Muse inspire, and make it prove 5
A pledge and monument of lasting love!
Mean-time intent the fairest plan to find
To form the manners and improve the mind,
Me the fam'd wits of Rome and Athens please,
By Orrery's indulgence wrapt in ease, 10
Whom all the rival Muses strive to grace
With wreaths familiar to his letter'd race:
Now Truth's bright charms employ my serious thought,
In flowing eloquence by Tully taught;
Then from the shades of Tusculum I rove, 15
And studious wander in the Grecian grove,
While wonder and delight the soul engage
To sound the depths of Plato's sacred page;
Where Science in attractive fable lies,
And, veil'd, the more invites her lover's eyes. 20
Transported thence, the flow'ry heights I gain
Of Pindus, and admire the warbling train,
Whose wings the Muse in better ages prun'd,
And their sweet harps to moral airs attun'd.
As night is tedious while, in love betray'd, 25
The wakeful youth expects the faithless maid;
As weary'd hinds accuse the ling'ring sun,
And heirs impatient wish for twenty-one;
So dull to Horace[1] did the moments glide,
'Till his free Muse her sprightly force employ'd 30
To combat vice, and follies to expose,
In easy numbers near ally'd to prose:
Guilt blush'd and trembled when she heard him sing;
He smil'd reproof, and tickled with his sting.
With such a graceful negligence exprest, 35
Wit, thus apply'd, will ever stand the test:
But he who, blindly led, by whimsy strays,
And from gross images would merit praise,
When Nature sets the noblest stores in view,
Affects to polish copper in Peru; 40
So while their seas on barren sands are cast,
The saltness of their waves offends the taste,
But when to heav'n exhal'd, in fruitful rain
And fragrant dews they fall, to cheer the swain,
Revive the fainting flow'rs, and swell the meagre grain.
Be this their care who, studious of renown, 46
Toil up th'Aonian steep to reach the crown;
Suffice it me that (having spent my prime
In picking epithets and yoking rhyme)
To steadier rule my thoughts I now compose, 50
And prize ideas clad in honest prose.
Old Dryden, emulous of Cæsar's praise,
Cover'd his baldness with immortal bays;
And Death, perhaps to spoil poetic sport,
Unkindly cut an Alexandrine short: 55
His ear had a more lasting itch than mine
For the smooth cadence of a golden line.
Should lust of verse prevail, and urge the man
To run the trifling race the boy began,
Mellow'd with sixty winters, you might see 60
My circle end in second infancy:
I might ere long an awkward humour have
To wear my bells and coral to the grave,
Or round my room alternate take a course,
Now mount my hobby, then the Muses' horse. 65
Let others wither gay, but I'd appear
With sage decorum in my easy chair;
Grave as Libanius slumb'ring o'er the laws,
Whilst gold and party zeal decide the cause.
A nobler task our riper age affords 70
Than scanning syllables and weighing words.
To make his hours in even measures flow,
Nor think some fleet too fast and some too slow;
Still equal in himself, and free to taste
The Now, without repining at the Past; 75
Nor the vain prescience of the spleen t'employ,
To pall the flavour of a promis'd joy;
To live tenacious of the golden mean,
In all events of various fate serene;
With virtue steel'd, and steady to survey 80
Age, death, disease, or want, without dismay:
These arts, my Lambard! useful in their end,
Make man to others and himself a friend.
Happiest of mortals he who, timely wise,
In the calm walks of truth his bloom enjoys; 85
With books and patrimonial plenty blest,
Health in his veins, and quiet in his breast!
Him no vain hopes attract, no fear appals,
Nor the gay servitude of courts enthrals,
Unknowing how to mask concerted guile 90
With a false cringe, or undermining smile;
His manners pure, from affectation free,
And prudence shines thro' clear simplicity.
Tho' no rich labours of the Persian loom,
Nor the nice sculptor's art, adorn his room, 95
Sleep unprovok'd will softly seal his eyes,
And innocence the want of down supplies;
Health tempers all his cups, and at his board
Reigns the cheap luxury the fields afford:
Like the great Trojan, mantled in a cloud, 100
Himself unseen, he sees the lab'ring crowd,
Where all industrious to their ruin run,
Swift to pursue what most they ought to shun.
Some, by the sordid thirst of gain controll'd,
Starve in their stores, and cheat themselves for gold,
Preserve the precious bane with anxious care, 106
In vagrant lusts to feed a lavish heir:
Others devour Ambition's glitt'ring bait,
To sweat in purple, and repine in state;
Devote their pow'rs to ev'ry wild extreme 110
For the short pageant of a pompous dream;
Nor can the mind to full perfection bring
The fruits it early promis'd in the spring,
But in a public sphere those virtues fade,
Which open'd fair and flourish'd in the shade: 115
So while the Night her ebon sceptre sways,
Her fragrant blooms the Indian plant[2] displays;
But the full day the short-liv'd beauties shun,
Elude our hopes, and sicken at the sun.
Fantastic joys in distant views appear, 120
And tempt the man to make the rash career.
Fame, pow'r, and wealth, which glitter at the goal,
Allure his eye, and fire his eager soul:
For these are ease and innocence resign'd;
For these he strips; farewell the tranquil mind! 125
Headstrong, he urges on till vigour fails,
And gray experience (but too late!) prevails:
But in his ev'ning view the hoary fool,
When the nerves slacken and the spirits cool;
When joy and blushy youth forsake his face, 130
Sicklied with age, and sour with self-disgrace;
No flavour then the sparkling cups retain,
Music is harsh, the Syren sings in vain.
To him what healing balm can art apply
Who lives diseas'd with life, and dreads to die? 135
In that last scene, by Fate in sables dress'd,
Thy pow'r, triumphant Virtue! is confess'd;
Thy Vestal flames diffuse celestial light
Thro' Death's dark vale, and vanquish total night;
Lenient of anguish, o'er the breast prevail, 140
When the gay toys of flatt'ring Fortune fail.
Such, happy Twisden! (ever be thy name
Mourn'd by the Muse, and fair in deathless fame!)
While the bright effluence of her glory shone
Were thy last hours, and such I wish my own: 145
So caffra bruis'd exhales her rich perfumes,
And incense in a fragrant cloud consumes,
Most spoil the boon that Nature's pleas'd t'impart
By too much varnish or by want of art:
By solid science all her gifts are grac'd, 150
Like gems new polish'd, and with gold enchas'd.
Votes to th' unletter'd 'squire the laws allow,
As Rome receiv'd dictators from the plough:
But arts, address, and force of genius, join
To make a Hanmer in the senate shine. 155
Yet one presiding pow'r in ev'ry breast
Receives a stronger sanction than the rest;
And they who study and discern it well
Act unrestrain'd, without design excel,
But court contempt, and err without redress, 160
Missing the master-talent they possess.
Whiston perhaps in Euclid may succeed,
But shall I trust him to reform my creed?
In sweet assemblage ev'ry blooming grace
Fix Love's bright throne in Teraminta's face, 165
With which her faultless shape and air agree,
But, wanting wit, she strives to repartee;
And, ever prone her matchless form to wrong,
Lest Envy should be dumb she lends her tongue.
By long experience D———y may, no doubt, 170
Ensnare a gudgeon, or sometimes a trout;
Yet Dryden once exclaim'd (in partial spite)
"He fish!"—because the man attempts to write.
Oh! if the water-nymphs were kind to none
But those the Muses bathe in Helicon, 175
In what far distant age would Belgia raise
One happy wit to net the British seas!
Nature permits her various gifts to fall
On various climes, nor smiles alike on all:
The Latian vales eternal verdure wear, 180
And flow'rs spontaneous crown the smiling year;
But who manures a wild Norwegian hill
To raise the jasmine or the coy jonquil?
Who finds the peach among the savage floes,
Or in bleak Scythia seeks the blushing rose? 185
Here golden grain waves o'er the teeming fields,
And there the vine her racy purple yields.
High on the cliffs the British oak ascends,
Proud to survey the seas her pow'r defends;
Her sov'reign title to the flag she proves, 190
Scornful of softer India's spicy groves.
These instances, which true in fact we find,
Apply we to the culture of the mind.
This soil, in early youth improv'd with care,
The seeds of gentle science best will bear; 195
That with more particles of flame inspir'd,
With glitt'ring arms and thirst of fame is fir'd;
Nothing of greatness in a third will grow,
But barren as it is 't will bear a beau.
If these from Nature's genial bent depart, 200
In life's dull farce to play a borrow'd part;
Should the sage dress, and flutter in the Mall,
Or leave his problems for a birth-night ball;
Should the rough homicide unsheath his pen,
And in heroics only murder men; 205
Should the soft fop forsake the lady's charms,
To face the foe with inoffensive arms,
Each would variety of acts afford,
Fit for some new Cervantes to record.
"Whither," you cry, "tends all this dry discourse?
"To prove, like Hudibras, a man's no horse? 211
"I look'd for sparkling lines, and something gay,
"To frisk my fancy with; but, sooth to say!
"From her Apollo now the Muse elopes,
"And trades in syllogisms more than tropes." 215
Faith, Sir, I see you nod, but can't forbear;
When a friend reads, in honour you must hear:
For all enthusiasts, when the fit is strong,
Indulge a volubility of tongue:
Their fury triumphs o'er the men of phlegm, 220
And, council-proof, will never baulk a theme;
So Burgess on his tripod rav'd the more
When round him half the saints began to snore.
To lead us safe th'ro' error's thorny maze
Reason exerts her pure ethereal rays; 225
But that bright daughter of eternal day
Holds in our mortal frame a dubious sway.
Tho' no lethargic fumes the brain invest,
And opiate all her active pow'rs to rest;
Tho' on that magazine no fevers seize, 230
To calcine all her beauteous images;
Yet banish'd from the realms by right her own,
Passion, a blind usurper, mounts the throne;
Or, to known good preferring specious ill,
Reason becomes a cully to the will. 235
Thus man, perversely fond to roam astray,
Hoodwinks the guide assign'd to shew the way,
And in life's voyage like the pilot fares
Who breaks the compass, and contemns the stars,
To steer by meteors, which at random fly, 240
Preluding to a tempest in the sky.
Vain of his skill, and led by various views,
Each to his end a diff'rent path pursues;
And seldom is one wretch so humble known
To think his friend's a better than his own: 245
The boldest they who least partake the light,
As game-cocks in the dark are train'd to fight.
Nor shame nor ruin can our pride abate,
But what became our choice we call our fate.
"Villain," said Zeno to his pilf'ring slave, 250
"What frugal Nature needs I freely gave;
"With thee my treasure I depos'd in trust,
"What could provoke thee now to prove unjust?"
"Sir, blame the stars," felonious culprit cry'd:
"We 'll by the statute of the stars be try'd. 255
"If their strong influence all our actions urge,
"Some are foredoom'd to steal—and some to scourge:
"The beadle must obey the Fates' decree,
"As pow'rful Destiny prevail'd with thee."
On me, and many a harmless modern bard:
The critics hence may think themselves decreed
To jerk the wits, and rail at all they read;
Foes to the tribe from which they trace their clan,
As monkies draw their pedigree from man; 265
To which (tho' by the breed our kind 's disgrac'd)
We grant superior elegance of taste;
But in their own defence the wits observe,
That by impulse from Heav'n they write and starve;
Their patron planet with resistless pow'r 270
Irradiates ev'ry poet's natal hour,
Engend'ring in his head a solar heat,
For which the college has no sure receipt,
Else from their garrets would they soon withdraw,
And leave the rats to revel in the straw. 275
Nothing so much intoxicates the brain
As Flatt'ry's smooth insinuating bane:
She on th' unguarded ear employs her art,
While vain self-love unlocks the yielding heart;
And reason oft' submits when both invade, 280
Without assaulted, and within betray'd.
When flatt'ry's magic mists suffuse the sight,
The don is active and the boor polite;
Her mirror shews perfection thro' the whole,
And ne'er reflects a wrinkle or a mole; 285
Each character in gay confusion lies,
And all alike are virtuous, brave, and wise:
Nor fail her fulsome arts to sooth our pride,
Tho' praise to venom turns if wrong apply'd.
Me thus she whispers while I write to you: 290
"Draw forth a banner'd host in fair review;
"Then ev'ry Muse invoke thy voice to raise,
"Arms and the man to sing in lofty lays,
"Whose active bloom heroic deeds employ,
"Such as the son of Thetis[3] sung at Troy, 295
"When his high-sounding lyre his valour rais'd
“To emulate the demi-gods he prais’d.
"Like him the Briton, warm at honour's call,
"At fam'd Blaragnia quell'd the bleeding Gaul;
"By France the genius of the fight confest, 300
"For which our patron saint adorns his breast."—
Is this my friend who sits in full content,
Jovial, and joking with his men of Kent,
And never any scene of slaughter saw,
But those who fell by physic or the law? 305
Why is he for exploits in war renown'd,
Deck'd with a star, with bloody laurels crown'd?
O often prov'd, and ever sound sincere!
Too honest is thy heart, thy sense too clear,
On these encomiums to vouchsafe a smile, 310
Which only can belong to great Argyle.
But most among the brethren of the bays
The dear enchantress all her charms displays,
In the sly commerce of alternate praise.
If, for his father's sins condemn'd to write, 315
Some young half-feather'd poet takes a flight,
And to my touchstone brings a puny ode,
Which Swift, and Pope, and Prior, would explode;
Tho' ev'ry stanza glitters thick with stars,
And goddesses descend in ivory cars, 320
Is it for me to prove in ev'ry part
The piece irregular by laws of art?
His genius looks but awkward, yet his fate
May raise him to be premier bard of state;
I therefore bribe his suffrage to my fame, 325
Revere his judgment and applaud his flame;
Then cry, in seeming transport, while I speak,
"'Tis well for Pindar that he dealt in Greek!"
He, conscious of desert, accepts the praise,
And, courteous, with increase the debt repays. 330
Boileau 's a mushroom if compar'd to me,
And, Horace, I dispute the palm with thee!
Both, ravish'd, sing Te Phœbum for success;
Rise swift, ye Laurels! Boy! bespeak the press.—
Thus on imaginary praise we feed; 335
Each writes till all refuse to print or read:
From the records of fame condemn'd to pass
To Brisquet's calendar[4], a rubric ass.
Few, wondrous few! are eagle-ey'd to find
A plain disease or blemish in the mind: 340
Few can, tho' wisdom should their health ensure,
Dispassionate and cool attend a cure.
In youth disus'd t' obey the needful rein,
Well pleas'd a savage liberty to gain,
We sate the keen desire of ev'ry sense, 345
And lull our age in thoughtless indolence:
Yet all are Solons in their own conceit,
Tho', to supply the vacancy of wit,
Folly and Pride, impatient of control,
The sister-twins of Sloth, possess the soul. 350
By Kneller were the gay Pumilio drawn,
Like great Alcides, with a back of brawn:
I scarcely think his picture would have pow'r
To make him fight the champions of the Tow'r,
Tho' lions there are tolerably tame, 355
And civil as the court from which they came:
But yet, without experience, sense, or arts,
Pumilio boasts sufficiency of parts;
Imagines he alone is amply fit
To guide the state, or give the stamp to wit: 360
Pride paints the mind with an heroic air,
Nor finds he a defect of vigour there.
When Philomel of old essay'd to sing,
And in his rosy progress hail'd the spring,
T'h' aëríal songsters, list'ning to the lays, 365
By silent ecstasy confess'd her praise.
At length, to rival her enchanting note,
The peacock strains the discord of his throat,
In hope his hideous shrieks would grateful prove,
But the nice audience hoot him thro' the grove: 370
Conscious of wanted worth, and just disdain,
Low'ring his crest, he creeps to Juno's fane,
To his protectress there reveals the case,
And for a sweeter voice devoutly prays.
Then thus reply'd the radiant goddess, known 375
By her fair rolling eyes and rattling tone:
"My fav'rite Bird! of all the feather'd kind we
"Each species had peculiar gifts assign'd;
"The tow'ring eagles to the realms of light
"By their strong pounces claim a regal right; 380
"The swan, contented with an humbler fate,
"Low on the fishy river rows in state;
"Gay starry plumes thy length of train bedeck,
"And the green em'rald twinkles on thy neck;
"But the poor nightingale, in mean attire, 385
"Is made chief warbler of the woodland choir:
"These various bounties were dispos'd above,
"And ratify'd th' unchanging will of Jove.
"Discern thy talent, and his laws adore;
"Be what thou wert design'd, nor aim at more." 390