Hence, and hence only, can proceed the fairest off

Assumes the God, spring of the human mind.

Affects to nod, But then in ode, there is this difference from

And seems to shake the spheres, other kinds of poetry; that, there, the imagination, are chosen in the following ode, because the subt like a very beautiful mistress, is indulged in the ap-ject of it is great. pearance of domineering; though the judgment, For the more harmony likewise, I chose the free like an artful lover, in reality carries its point ; quent return of rhyme; which laid me under great and the less it is suspected of it, it shows the more difficulties. But difficulties overcome give grace masterly conduct, and deserves the greater com- and pleasure. Nor can I account for the pleasure mendation.

of rhyme in general (of which the moderns are too It holds true in this province of writing, as in war, fond) but from this truth. “ The more danger, the more honour.” It must be But then the writer must take care that the dif. very enterprising; it must, in Shakespeare's style, ficulty is overcome. That is, he must make rhyme have hair-breadth 'scapes; and often tread the very consistent with as perfect sense, and expression, as brink of errour: nor can it ever deserve the applause could be expected if he was free from that shackle. of the real judge, unless it renders itself obnoxious Otherwise, it gives neither grace to the work, nor to the misapprehensions of the contrary,

pleasure to the reader, nor, consequently, reputaSuch is Casimire's strain among the moderns, tion to the poet. whose lively wit, and happy fire, is an honour to To sum the whole: Ode should be peculiar, but them. And Buchanan might justly be much ad- not strained ; moral, but not flat; natural, but not mired, if any thing more than the sweetness of his obvious ; delicate, but not affected ; noble, but not numbers, and the purity of his diction, were his own : ambitious; full, but not obscure; fiery, but not mad; his original, from which I have taken my motto, thick, but not loaded in its numbers, which should through all the disadvantages of a northern prose be most harmonious, without the least sacrifice of translation, is still admirable; and, Cowley says, expression, or of sense. Above all, in this, as in as preferable in beauty to Buchanan, as Judæa is every work of genius, somewhat of an original spito Scotland.

rit should be, at least, attempted; otherwise the Pindar, Anacreon, Sappho, and Horace, are the poet, whose character disclaims mediocrity, maker great masters of lyric poetry among Heathen wri- a secondary praise his ultimate ambition; which ters. Pindar's Muse, like Sacharissa, is a stately, has something of a contradiction in it. Originals imperious, and accomplished beauty; equally dis- only have true life, and differ as much froin the daining the use of art, and the fear of any rival ; best imitations, as men from the most animated so intoxicating that it was the highest commenda- pictures of them. Nor is what I say at all incontion that could be given an antient, that he was sistent with a due deference for the great standards not afraid to taste of her charms;

of antiquity; nay, that very deference is an argu

ment for it, for doubtless their example is on my Pindarici fontis qui non expalluit haustus;

side in this matter. And we should rather imitate a danger which Horace declares he durst not run. their example in the general motives, and funda

Anacreon's Muse is like Amoret, most sweet, na- mental methods of their working, than in their tural, and delicate; all over flowers, graces, and works themselves. This is a distinction, I think, charms; inspiring complacency, not awe; and she not bitherto made, and a distinction of consequence. seems to have good-nature enough to admit a rival, For the first may make us their equals; the second which she cannot find.

inust pronounce us their inferiors even in our utmost Sappho's Muse, like Lady is passionately success. But the first of these prizes is not so reatender, and glowing ; like oil set on tire, she is soft

, dily taken by the moderns; as valuables too massy and warm, in excess. Sappho has left us a few for easy carriage are not so liable to the thief. fragments only; Time has swallowed the rest ; but The antients had a particular regard to the choice that little which remains, like the remaining jewel of of their subjects; which were generally national Cleopatra, after the other was dissolved at her ban- and great. My subject is, in its own nature, no quet, may be esteemed (as was that jewel) a sufti- ble; most proper for an Englishman ; never more cient ornament for the goddess of beauty herself. proper than on this occasion; and (what is strange)

Horace's Muse (like one I shall not presume to hitherto unsung. name) is correct, solid, and moral; she joins all If I stand not absolutely condemned by my own the sweetness and majesty, all the sense and the rules; if I have hit the spirit of ode in general; fire of the former, in the justest proportions and de- if I cannot think with Mr. Cowley, that “Musie grees; superadding a felicity of dress entirely her alone, sometimes, makes an excellent ode;"

She moreover is distinguishable by this par- Versus inopes rerum, nugæque canoræ; ticularity, That she abounds in hidden graces, and if there is any thought, enthusiasm, and picture, secrel charms, which none but the discerning can which are as the body, soul, and robe of Poetry ; in discover; nor are any capable of doing full jus- a word, if in any degree I have provided rather tice, in their opinion, to her excellencies, without food for men,than air for wits; I hope smaller faults giving the world, at the same time, an incontestable will meet indulgence for the sake of tlie design, proof of refinement in their own understandings. which is the glory of my country and my king.

But, after all, to the honour of our own country And indeed, this may be said, in general, that I must add, that I think Mr. Dryden's (de on St. great subjects are above being nice; that dignity Cecilia's Day inferior to no composition of this and spirit ever suffer from scrupulous exactness; kind. Its chief beauty consists in adapting the and that the minuter cares effeminate a composinumbers most bappily to the variety of the occa- tion. Great masters of poetry, painting, and sta. sion. Those by which he has chosen to express tuary, in their nobler works, have even affected Majesty, (viz.)

the contrary; and justly; for a truly-masculine




OCEAN. air partakes more of the negligent, than of the Who love the shore, neat, both in writings, and in life

Let those adore
Grandis oratio haberet majestatis suæ pondus.

The god Apollo, and his Nine,

Parnassus' bill,
A poem, like a criminal, under too severe, cor-

And Orpheus' skill; rection, may lose all its spirit, and expire. We

But let Arion's harp be mine. know it was Paberrimus, that was such an artist at

The main ! the main ! a hair or a nail. And we know the cause was

Is Britain's reign;
Quia ponere totum

Her strength, her glory, is her fleet;


The main ! the main ! To close : If a piece of this nature wants an apo

Be Briton's strain ; logy, I must own, that those who have strength of As Triton's strong, as Syren's sweet. mind suíficient profitably to devote the whole of Through nature wide, their time to the severer studies, I despair of imi- Is nought descried tating, I can only envy and admire. The mind is so rich in pleasure, or surprise ; relieved and strengthened by variety; and he that When all-serene, sometimes is sporting with his pen, is only taking How sweet the scene ! the most effectual means of giving a general im- How dreadful, when the billows rise: portance to it. This truth is clear from the know

And storms deface ledge of human nature, and of history; from which

'The fluid glass, I could cite very celebrated instances, did I not

In which ere-while Britannia fair fear that, by citing them, I should condemn myself,

Look'd down with pride, who am so little qualified to follow their example

Like Ocean's bride, in its full extent.

Adjusting her majestic air,

When tempests cease,

And hush'd in peace

'The flatten'd surges smoothly spread, CONCLUDING WITH A WISH.

Deep silence keep,

And seem to sleep Let the sea make a noise, let the floods clap their Recumbent on their oozy bed; hands.

Psal. xcviii.

With what a trance
Sweet rural scene!

The level glance,
Of Hocks and green !

Unbroken, shoots along the seas !
At careless ease my limbs are spread;

Which tempt from shore
All nature still,

The painted oar;
But yonder rill;

And every canvass courts the breeze!
And listening pines nod o'er my head:

When rushes forth
In prospect wide,

The frowning North
"The boundless tide!

On blackening billows, with what dread
Wares cease to foam, and winds to roar;

My shuddering soul
Witbout a breeze,

Beholds them roll,
The curling seas

And hears their roarings o'er my head!
Dance on, in measure, to the shore.

With terrour mark
Who sings the source

Yon flying bark !
Of wealth and force ?
Vast field of commerce and big war:

Now, centre-deep descend the brave;

Now, toss'd on high,
Where wonders dwell!

It takes the sky,
Where terrours swell!

A feather on the towering wave!
And Neptune thunders from his car?
Where? where are they,

Now, spins around
Whom Pæan's ray

In whirls profound;
Has touch'd, and bid divinely rare?

Now, whelm’d; now, pendant near the clouds ;

Now, stunn'd, it reels
Wbat, none aspire ?

Midst thunder's peals;
I snatch the lyre,
And plunge into the foaming wave.

And, now, fierce lightning fires the shrouds.

All ether burns !
The wave resounds!

Chaos returns !
The rock rebounds!
The Nereids to my song reply!

And blends once more the seas and skies ;
I lead the choir,

No space between
And they conspire

Thy bosom green,
With voice and shell to lift it high!

O Deep! and the blue concave, lies
They spread in air

The northern blast,
Their bosoms fair;

The sbatter'd mast,
Their verdant tresses pour behind.

The syrt, the whirlpool, and the rock,
The billows beat

The breaking spout,
With nimble feet,

The stars gone out,
With notes triumphant swell the wind.

The boiling streight, the monaters shock,

Let others fear;

Joys felt alone! To Britain dear

Joys ask'd of none! Whate'er promotes her daring claim ;

Which Time's and Fortune's arrows miss; Those terrours charm,

Joys that subsist, Which keep her warm

'l hough Fates resist, In chase of honest gain or fame.

And unprecarious endless bliss ! The stars are bright

The soul refin'd To cheer the night,

Is most inclin'd And shed through shadows temper'd fire !

To every moral excellence; And Phobus flames

All vice is dull, With burnish'd beams,

A knave's a fool; Which some adore, and all admire,

And Virtce is the child of Sense. Are then the seas

The virtuous mind, Outshone by these?

Nor wave, nor wind, Bright Thetys! thou art not outshone;

Nor civil rage, nor tyrant's frown, With kinder beams,

The shaken ball, And softer gleams,

Nor planets' fall, Thy bosom wears them as thy own.

From its firm basis can dethrone. There, set in green,

This Britain knows, Gold-stars are seen,

And therefore glows A mantle rich! thy charms to wrap;

With generous passions, and expends And when the Sun

Her wealth and zeal His race has run,

On public weal, He falls enamour'd in thy lap.

And brightens both by godlike ends.

What end so great, Those clouds, whose dyes

As that which late
Adorn the skies,

Awoke the Genius of the main,
That silver snow, that pearly rain;
Has Phæbus stole

Which towering rose

With George to close,
To grace the pole,
The plunder of th' invaded main!

And rival great Eliza's reign?

A voice has flown The gaudy bow,

From Britain's throne Whose colours glow,

To reinflame a grand design; Whose arch with so much skill is bent,

That voice shall rear
To Phæbus' ray,

Yon fabric fair',
Which paints so gay,

As Nature's rose at the divine,
By thee the watery woof was lent.

When Nature sprung,
In chambers deep,

Blest angels sung,
Where waters sleep,

And shouted o'er the rising ball; What unknown treasures pave the noor!

For strains as high
The pearl in rows

As man's can ily,
Pale lustre throws;

These sea-devoted honours call,
The wealth immense, which storms devour,

From boisterous seas,
From Indian mines,

The lap of ease
With proud designs,

Receives our wounded and our old ;
The merchant, swoln, digs golden ore ;

High domes ascend !
The tempests rise,

Stretch'd arches bend !
And seize the prize,

Proud columns swell! wide gates unfold ! And toss him breathless on the shore.

So sleeps the grain,
His son complains

In fostering rain,
In pious strains;

And vital beans, till Jove descend; “ Ah ! cruel thirst of gold !” he cries ;

Then bursts the root !
Then ploughs the main,

The verdures shoot!
In zeal for gain,

And Earth enrich, adorn, defend !
The tears yet swelling in his eyes.

Here, soft-reclin'd
Thou watery vast,

From wave, from wind,
What mounds are cast

And Fortune's tempest safe ashore,
To bar thy dreadful flowings-o'er?

To cheat their care,
Thy proudest foam

Of former war
Must know its home;

They talk the pleasing shadows o'er. But rage of gold disdains a shore.

In lengthen'd tales,
Gold Pleasure buys ;

Our fleet prevails;
But Pleasure dies,

In tales the lenitives of age !
Too soon the gross fruition cloys :

And o'er the bowl,
Though raptures court,

They fire the soul
The sense is short ;

Of listening youth, to martial rage.
But Virtue kindles living joys;

i Greenwich,

The story done,

Their setting Sun,
Serenely smiling down the west,

In soft decay,

They drop away;
And Honour leads them to their rest.

Unhappy they!

And falsely gay!
Who bask for ever in success;

A constant feast

Quite palls the taste,
And long enjoyment is distress.

What charms us most,

Our joy, our boast, Familiar, loses all its gloss ;

And gold refin'd

The sated mind
Fastidious turns to perfect dross.

When, after toil,

His native soil
The panting mariner regains,

What transport Pows

From bare repose !
We reap our pleasure from our pains,

Ye warlike slain!

Beneath the inain,
Wrapt in a watery winding-sheet;

Who bought with blood

Your country's good,
Your country's full-blown glory greet.

What powerful charm

Can Death disarin?
Your long, your iron slumbers break ?

By Jove, by Fame,

By George's name, Awake! awake! awake!

Our joy so proud,

Our shout so loud,
Without a charm the dead might hear :

And see, they rouse !

Their awful brows,
Deep-scarr'd, from oozy pillows rear!

With spiral shell,

Full-blasted, tell That all your watery realms shouid ring;

Your pearl-alcoves,

Your coral-groves,
Should echo theirs, and Britain's king.

As long as stars

Guide mariners,
As Carolina's virtiies please,

Or suns invite

The ravish'd sight,
The British flag shall sweep the seas.

Peculiar both!

Our soil's strong growth,
And our bold natives' bardy mind;

Sure Heaven besopke

Our hearts, and oak,
To give a master to mankind.

That noblest birth

Of teeming Earth,
Of forests fair that daughter proud,

To foreign coasts

Our grandeur boasts,
And Britain's pleasure speaks aloud:

Now big with war

Sends fate from far,
If rebel realms their faie demand;

Now, suinptuous spoils

Of foreign soils
Pours in the bosom of our land.

Hence, Britain lays

In scales, and weighs The fates of kingdoms and of kings;

And as she frowns,

Or smiles, on crowns,
A night or day of glory springs.

Thus Occan swells

The streams and rills, And to their borders lifts them ligh;

Or else withdraws

The mighty cause, And leaves their famish'd channels dry.

How mixt, how frail,

How sure to fail,
Is every pleasure of mankind !

A damp destroys

My blooming joys, While Britain's glory tires my mind.

For who can gaze

On restless seas, Unstruck with life's more restless state

Where all are tost,

And most are lost,
By tides of passion, blasts of fate?

The world's the main,

How vext ! how vain ! Ambition swells, and Anger foams;

May good men find,

Beneath the wind,
A noiseless shore, unruffled homes !

The public scene

Of harden’d men
Teach me, O teach me to despise !

The world few know

But to their woe,
Our crimes with our experience rise ;

All tender sense

Is banish'd thence,
All maiden nature's first alarms

What shock'd before

Disgust no more,
And what disgusted has its charms.

In landscapes green

True Bliss is seen, With Innocence, in shades, she sports;

In wealthy towns

Proud Labour frowns,
And painted Sorrow smiles in courts.

These scenes untried

Seduc'd my pride, To Fortune's arrows bard my breast;

Till Wisdom came,

A hoary dame!
And told me Pleasure was in rest.

( may I steal

Along the vale
Of humble life, secure from soes !

My friend sincere !

My judgment clear!
And gentle business my repose!


“ My mind be strong

“ Unhurt my urn! To combat wrong!

Till that great turn
Grateful, O king ! for favours shown!

When mighty Nature's self shall die !
Soft to complain

Time cease to glide,
For others' pain !

With human pride,
And bold to triumph o'er my own!

Sunk in the Ocean of Eternity.”
(When Fortune's kind)

Acute to find,
And warm to relish every boon!

And wise to still

Fantastic ill,
Whose frightful spectres stalk at noon!

“ No fruitless toils !
No brainless broils !

Each moment level'd at the mark !
Our day so short

Invites to sport;

LORD HIGH-CHANCELLOR OF GREAT-BRITAIN, ETC. ETC. Be sad and solemn when 't is dark.

“ Yet, Prudence, still
Rein thou my will !

Though I have not the honour of being known to What's most important, make most dear!

your lordship, I presume to take a privilege which For 'tis in this

men of retirement are apt to think themselves in Resides true bliss;

possession of, as being the only method they have True bliss, a deity severe !

of making their way to persons of your lordship's

high station without struggling through multitudes When temper leans

for access. I may possibly fail in my respect to To gayer scenes,

your lordship, even while I endeavour to show it And serious life void moments spares,

most; but if I err, it is because I imagined Iought The sylvan chase

not to make my first approach to one of your lordMy sinews brace!

ship’s exalted character with less ceremony thap Or song unbend my mind from cares!

that of a dedication. It is annexed to the condi. “ Nor shun, my soul !

tion of eminent merit, not to suffer more from the The genial bowl,

malice of its enemies, than from the importunity Where mirth, good-nature, spirit, flow!

of its admirers; and perhaps it would be unjust, Ingredients these,

that your lordship should hope to be exempted Above, to please

from the troubles, when you possess all the talents, The laughing gods, the wise, below.

of a patron.

I have here a fair occasion to celebrate those sub“ Though rich the vine,

lime qualities, of which a whole nation is sensible, More wit, than wine,

were it not inconsistent with the design of my present More sense, than wit, good-will than art,

application. By the just discharge of your great May I provide! Fair truth, my pride!

employments, your lordship may well deserve the My joy, the converse of the heart !

prayers of the distressed, the thanks of your coun

try, and the approbation of your royal master: “ The gloomy brow,

this indeed is a reason why every good Briton should The broken vow,

applaud your lordship; but it is equally a reason To distant climes, ye gods ! remove !

why none should disturb you in the execution of The nobly-soul'd

your important affairs by works of fancy and amuseTheir commerce hold

ment. I was therefore induced to make this adWith words of truth, and looks of love!

dress to your lordship, by considering you rather “ O glorious aim!

in the amiable light of a person distinguished () wealth supreme !

for a refined taste of the polite arts, and the canDivine benevolence of soul !

dour that usually attends it, than in the dignity That greatly glows,

of your public character. And freely flows,

The greatness and solemnity of the subjects And in one blessing grasps the whole;

treated of in the following work cannot fail in

some measure to recommend it to a person who Prophetic schemes,

holds in the utmost veneration those sacred books And golden dreams,

from which it is taken ; and would at the same May 1, unsanguine, cast away!

time justify to the world my choice of the great Have, what I have !

name prefixed to it, could I be assured that the unAnd live, not leave, Enamour'd of the present day!

dertaking had not suffered in my hands. Thus

much I think myself obliged to say; that if this “ My hours my own!

little performance bad not been very indulgently My faults unknown !

spoken of by some, whose judgment is universally, My chief revenue in content !

allowed in writings of this nature, I had not dared Then, leave one beam

to gratify my ambition in offering it to your lordOf honest fame!

ship: I am sensible that I am endeavouring to exAnd scorn the labour'd monument!

cuse one vanity by another; but I hope I shall

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