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POEMS

OF

SAMUEL BOYSE.

TO

Charm'd with the hope new patriots still shall rise,

HIS GRACE, JOHN DUKE OF BEDFORD, And with successive lustre gild Britannia's skies.

WITH THE FOLLOWING ODE ON THE BIRTH OF THE
MARQUIS OF TAVISTOCK. 1740.

ACCEPT, my lord, devoid of servile art,
The strains that flow immediate from the heart:
What the Muse sings, by flatt'ry yet untaught,
Which leads the tongue diversive from the thought:
More honest are the views her lays inspire,
And nobler motives animate her fire:
She knows what measures should approach your ear,
Nor dares a word which truth may blush to hear.
Ere satire learn'd to sting, in happier days,
Virtue with pleasure met the Muse's praise:
Honour with pride the offer'd wreath embrac'd:
The brow was spotless, and the gift was chaste:
One fair applause the mutual friendship bound,
The bard was valu'd, and the patriot crown'd:
Hence shine display'd the Greek and Roman name,
Rever'd by time, and dear to future fame!

'Tis yours, great prince, impartial to survey
The fond design, and judge the faithful lay:
If ought of latent worth the thought contain,
Or to the fair occasion swell the strain,
Thy gen'rous smile the labour amply pays:
Tis fame to have deserv'd a Bedford's praise,

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As o'er the blue expanse with golden light,
The orient Sun ascending spreads his ray!
So Britain pleas'd directs her smiling sight,

And views thy heir disclos'd to cheerful day! From the first dawn of thy distinguish'd name,

Observant, she has mark'd thy glorious race, With faithful zeal, assert her ancient fame:

Alike her ornaments in arms or peace: Patriots and chiefs, who for her rights have stood, And sanctifi'd her laws with their devoted blood.

Such was her Russel, whose exalted mind
In virtue steel'd, by liberty inspir'd,
Glow'd with the gen'rous love of human-kind,

The point to which his ev'ry thought aspir'd.
Not pleasure's sun-shine, nor ambition's crown,

Which charms the wanton, or deceives the weak; Not instant death, nor the stern tyrant's frown,

The godlike martyr's steady soul could shake: With fortitude he bore the friendly strife, And smil'd for Britain's sake to yield his noble life.

Hail gen'rous warmth! hail all-enliv'ning ray!
Which lawless force repels, and shines to save!
Hail emanation sprung from heav'nly day,
Fix'd in the bosom of the truly brave!
As through its lucid orb the radiant gem
Beams, self-supplied, the blaze of living light:
So keeps unblemish'd honour its esteem;

So gains the judgment while it charms the sight; Which envy strives, but strives in vain, to veil, Too strong for all the clouds its brightness would conceal.

Early, illustrious peer, thy gen'rous breast This spark of worth hereditary caught; Early thy love for freedom shone confess'd, Seen in thy act, and rooted in thy thought:

Aw'd by no pow'r, no mean temptation sway'd:
Thy voice still follow'd truth's impartial side;
Scorn'd the vain blandishments ambition made,
A dignity beyond the reach of pride!
Merit intrinsical, outshining far

Th' embellishments of pomp, or tinsel of a star.

When to thy brow the ducal wreath was giv'n,
Applauding Britain saw thy rising state;
Thy honours seem'd the care of fav'ring Heav'n,
That for thy country smil'd to make thee great.
"Twas this to Gower's worth thy choice ally'd,

That blest thee with a British Portia's charms; That gave thee Juliana, spotless bride,

A treasur'd shrine of virtue to thy arms: And now has crown'd your union with an heir, To long descending days, the lasting name to bear.

Nor placid thou, amidst the general joy,

Thy Tavistock's auspicious birth creates, The Muse reject, who with delighted eye Beholds the future bliss thy heir awaits: Soon (does she hope) with native ardour fir'd, His conscious breast the patriot's fire shall know: As the young eaglet rises self-inspir'd,

Lifts the strong plume, and leaves the world below: Plays in the solar flame, delights above, And learns to grasp the bolts of formidable Jove.

Illustrious youth, may Heav'n to thee allow

A life secure from ev'ry wayward fate: Propitious hear the faithful Muse's vow,

And make the circle of thy fame complete. May ev'ry Muse with ev'ry Grace conspire Thy form to finish and thy soul to raise, Thy tender youth with virtue's love inspire:

Virtue! alone the source of lasting praise;
A joy, which only noblest minds can know,
And Truth's fair hand, alone, can authorize below.

And oh! if aught the Muse prophetic feels:
If true the transport of her present flame,
The warmest hope thy worth but half reveals,

Illustrious infant! time shall swell thy fame! Some happier Muse for thee shall tune the lyre, Shall sing thy opening virtues fair express'd; As now with recent joy, and fond desire,

Mine hails thee to thy natal hour confess'd, And ardent wishes to thy princely race, Establishment confirm'd, and durable increase.

O honour'd Bedford! one directing fate
Allots the parts, whence life's distinction springs,
The ebb of poverty, the flow of state,

The chains of captives, and the crowns of kings!
To thy blest hand, and bounteousness of mind,
Has giv'n extensive powers unslacken'd rein;
To me a barrenness of wish assign'd,

That grieves itself to see another's pain: To thee has giv'n to smile,-to me to mourn, Ev'n on that happy day thy Tavistock was born.

Yet let the Muse, my lord, with honest zeal,
The fair occasion of thy joy improve:
Thy noble line's increasing splendour hail,

And give this humble mark of duteous love: Mean though her verse,-by flatt'ry undefil'd:

Patriots have not disdain'd to view her strain: Stair has approv'd-and candid Tweedale smil'd, And learned Stormont stoop'd to ease her pain!

Nor thou, mild prince, disdain the humble lay That mingles with the joys of this auspicious day.

So may just Heav'n with ever guardian care
Build on the basis of thy rising name!
To each successive Bedford grant an heir

Of worth resemblant, and paternal fame : Like thee, to guard Britannia's sacred laws From dark corruption and from lawless force: To shine the great assertors of her cause:

Firm in the shock, and constant in the course: Who round their brows the civic wreath shall bind, And guard the glorious rights of Britons and mankind.

HOPE'S FAREWELL.

AN ODE.

"O LIFE, vain joy, which mortals court,
The prey of Death, and Fortune's sport!
Tell me, when so unkind to me,
Oh! why should I be fond of thee?

"When from the silent womb of space,
Struggling I broke to thy embrace:
My tears prophetic seem'd to tell,
You meant not, Life, to use me well.

"The joys you gave my youth to taste Were but like children's toys at best: Which Passion grasp'd with eager play, But Reason, frowning, threw away!

"Yet, fond enchantress, still thy wile Had power my senses to beguile, Cheated, although the fraud I knew, And pleas'd, because it still was new.

"In vain I heard, in vain I read,
Of thousands by thy love betray'd!
I listen'd to thy magic call,
And held thee dear-in spite of all !

"Led by thy captivating hand,
Through wanton Pleasure's fairy land:
I cry'd, unskill'd in future harms,
O Life, how lovely are thy charms!

"But on the front of riper years,
Advanc'd a train of sullen cares!
While giddy Fortune turn'd her head,
And Pleasure's golden prospects fled.

""Twas then of all resource bereav'd,
Too late I found myself deceiv'd,
And wish'd, fond Life, with vain regret,
That thou and I had never met."
But Life, who treats with high disdain
The worn-out slaves that drag her chain,
Regardless, all my griefs survey'd,
And triumph'd in the ills she made!

Abandon'd thus to Fortune's rage,
Soon I was spy'd by trembling Age:
Who bid me calm my anxious breast,
For he would lead me soon to rest.

CUPID'S
When Hope, a nymph of heav'nly race,
Address'd in smiles her cheerful face,
Soft interpos'd with friendly air,
To save me from the arms of Care.

REVENGE....TRANSLATION OF VOLTAIRE'S LETTER.

"And what, unhappy! tempts thee so?"
She cried, "and whither wouldst thou go?
'Tis but a mark of weakness shown,
To fly from Life to ills unknown!

"Go ask the wretch in torture this,
Why courts he life, if not a bliss?
Nor quits the partner Nature gave,
For the cold horrours of the grave."

Short I reply'd-" False nymph, forbear
With syren tales to sooth my ear!
Forbear thy arts too often try'd,
Nor longer thou shalt be my guide.

"Ten tedious years!-a space too long!
Still hast thou led, and led me wrong!
At least thy vain attendance cease,
Aud leave me here to die in peace."

To which she answer'd with a sigh-
"Thou hast thy wish! if I comply,
Death soon will cease thee left alone,
For Life is lost, when Hope is gone."

CUPID'S REVENGE. DESERTED from the power of Love,

And bound by Hymen's pleasing chain, Myrtillo careless trod the grove,

Or wander'd o'er the flow'ry plain.

Indifferent ev'ry nymph he saw,

Aminta sole his heart possess'd:
And with mild rule, and rightful law,
Reign'd gentle sov'reign of his breast!

But Cupid sure revenge had sworn,

And artful laid the treach'rous snare,
As, heedless, one inviting morn,
The shepherd breath'd the wholesome air.

The Zephyrs fann'd the skies serene,

While Phoebus shed his placid ray: When bright Camilla cross'd the plain, And met Myrtillo's devious way.

Sudden from her enchanting eyes

The traitor sent the destin'd dart; "And there, rebellious youth," he cries, "Deliver up your stubborn heart."

Surpris'd he saw the arrow vain,
From the calm shepherd's breast rebound:
His baffled project gave him pain,
Myrtillo had no heart to wound.

His angry looks his rage disclose,
Thrice he invok'd his mother's aid!
Camilla spoke: "Yes, there it goes:

We'll try the armour of your head."

Victorious now, insulting Love

Cried, pleas'd the shepherd's wound to find, "My common darts the HEART may prove, My noblest arrows pierce the MIND!"

TRANSLATION

OF

527

VOLTAIRE'S LETTER TO THE KING OF PRUSSIA. 1740.

KIND prince! whom the admiring world must own
By Truth and Nature form'd to grace a throne:
Whose dawn of empire, like the solar ray,
Cheers half the North with hopes of lasting day:
Receive the homage which the Muses send,
Their fav'rite thou! their guardian! and their friend!

Are you enthron'd, and does your goodness deign
To own your poet, and regard his strain?

O blissful moment! dear auspicious grace!
Does Frederic's smiles my wand'ring steps embrace?
Does his great soul, possess'd of wisdom's balm,
(Ever benevolent, and ever calm!)
Leave all the dignity of state behind,
To meet the humble lover of mankind?
And can your hand the royal gift impart,
To style me friend of your distinguish'd heart?
Fame says of old, that Phoebus, heavenly bright,
O'er the wide world who spreads the living light,
So Jove ordain'd-his splendid car resign'd,
To live below, and humanize mankind:
No more his brows their wonted rays reveal'd,
A shepherd's form the exil'd god conceal'd:
In Phrygian wilds, to an unletter'd race,
He sung with such divinely pleasing grace,
The savage nations in their soften'd hearts,
Receiv'd the love of virtue, and of arts!
The rudest breasts the strong persuasion felt,
Were taught to think, to reason, and to melt!.
Themselves to know, the social tie to own,
And learn they were not made to live alone!
Then ev'ry useful science sprung to birth,
And peaceful labour blest the smiling Earth:
Men now united lost their ancient rage,
Nature rejoic'd, and blest her golden age:
An age by Heav'n design'd for man no more,
Unless a Frederic shall that age restore.

It chanc'd as through the woods Apollo stray'd,
Ere gath'ring numbers peopled half the shade;
As near the cooling stream he pass'd the day,
And wak'd the golden lyre to wisdom's lay:
Attentive to the sound, a stranger swain
His reed attun'd to imitate the strain:
The god, well-pleas'd, the rustic genius spy'd,
Approv'd his aim, and deign'd to be his guide!
Aided his trembling hands to touch the string,
Whisper'd the words, and show'd him how to sing!
The swain improving blest the care bestow'd,
Nor in the master yet perceiv'd the god.
Nor knew th' immortal flame his bosom fir'd,
But like a shepherd lov'd him, and admir'd.

In me, great prince, the image stands renew'd,
I feel myself with kindred warmth endu'd;
As to thy praise I tune the conscious lyre,
I ask whence draws my breast the noble fire?
Tell what inspires me, happy people, tell!
Beneath my Fred'ric's orient sway who dwell:

From rapid Rhine to silver-streaming Meine,
The peaceful subjects of his placid reign?
Or ye on Prussia's amber-yielding shore,
Who bless his name, and hail his guardian pow'r!
Yes-let consenting lands his virtues raise,
And Fame with all his tongues repeat his praise!
Whose sceptre shall Astræa's rule restore,
And bid dejected Merit sigh no more.

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As once directed by the voice of Fame
To Wisdom's king the southern princess came;
At Frederic's call-see, ravish'd to obey,
The sons of Learning take their cheerful way;
To hear that sense which still attention draws,
And bless that goodness which directs his laws.
Close by his throne Philosophy shall smile,
To view her prince approve her children's toil!
While Science joys to see his kind regards
Inspire the Muse, his bounty still rewards;
Not distant far calm Charity shall stand,
Stretching to Piety her social hand;
Justice shall banish arbitrary Might,
And Commerce cheerful Plenty shall invite :
But Goodness chief-in form angelic drest,
(Such as she lives in Fred'ric's royal breast)
Beneath her wings shall bid the worthy find
A shelter from the storms that vex mankind:
The friend of truth, by fraud or malice hurl'd
Through all the mazes of a faithless world,
Whom envy persecutes and bigots hate,
Shall here enjoy an undisturb'd retreat;
With him who scorns the empty pride of blood,
But shares his grandeur with the wise and good.
Bewitching gold, which circling through a state,
Derives its value, and deserves its weight!
But once obstructed, like the streams of life,
Breeds war, and want, and discontent, and strife:
From Fred'ric's hand new splendour shall regain,
To bid his people wish his lengthen'd reign.
No more shall neighb'ring states from Prussia's arms
Or dangers apprehend, or dread alarms:
Far less shall foreign leagues his empire move,
Fix'd on a firm united people's love:

Already Europe's kings their courtship bend,
To him who makes no foe, nor quits a friend;
What though his prudence guards the chance of war,
His mildness eyes the mischief from afar:
What though his arms might Cæsar's laurels find,
The peaceful olive suits his greater mind:
Yet safe in all events the storm he views,
In peace or war,-the darling of the Muse!
In either state, alike insur'd success,
Since all his aim is to defend and bless.

Yet while impending clouds their darkness spread,
He arms for war-but arms without a dread:
No giant-forms' compose a vain parade,
No glitt'ring figures of the warrior-trade :
Valour he courts, without the pomp of art,
And rises on the service of the heart:
He boasts it all his glory to be just,
(A pride beyond the title of august!)
Which Time secures, the most impartial friend,
And guards his name till Nature feels her end.
So when beneath the curs'd Cæsarean race
Rome felt the horrours of her first disgrace:

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Great Trajan rose with every virtue blest,
To give the wearied world the sweets of rest:
No blood, no conquest mark'd his spotless reign,
"Twas goodness form'd th' inviolable chain :
E'en India's kings receiv'd the willing yoke,
For goodness is a band no savage broke.

Not Salem's walls defil'd with wilful blood
A crime, her victor's clemency withstood:
Not all her honours levell'd with the dust,
Styl'd Titus good, or merciful, or just :
Love knit the charm on which his greatness rose,
A charm not worlds united can oppose!
Behold the glorious pattern marks your rise!
Nor quits the steps by which he gain'd the skies:
Try to surpass !-(but Heav'n his fate refuse!)
He wept a day-which you will never lose.

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INSCRIBED TO JAMES DOUGLAS, M. D. P. R. S.

MACENAS, Sprung of royal blood,
My first defence, my dearest good!
What various cares our life employ !
How different are our tastes for joy!
The rapid car that gains the prize,
Whirls the vain racer to the skies.
The statesman who, by artful ways,
Aspires to pow'r from vulgar praise:
The sordid wretch, whose greedy store
Amasses corn to cheat the poor:
The farmer, whose industrious hand
Tills his paternal spot of land:
All these would Asia's wealth disdain,
To quit their state, or tempt the main.
The merchant, with affrighted eyes,
Who sees the gath'ring tempest rise,
Sighs to regain his native ease,

And swears no more to trust the seas.
Yet, when escap'd he finds the shore,
So much he dreads the name of poor,
His shatter'd bark he fond repairs,
And o'er the faithless ocean steers.
Reclin'd beneath the spreading shade,
Near some clear fountain's bubbling head,
Elate with wine, with garlands gay,
The friend of Bacchus wastes the day.
Others, impatient for the fight,
In camps and martial scenes delight.
Their breasts the sprightly trumpet warms,
That fills the mother with alarms.
To freeze beneath the midnight air,
The huntsman leaves the sighing fair,
Pleas'd if his hounds the deer pursue,
Or hold th' entangled boar in view.
"Tis thus that happiness is sought
A thousand ways-and never caught.
For you, my lord', the ivy crown
(The critic's prize, and just renown)
Does round your honour'd temples twine,
And ranks you with the gods divine!
While I beneath the gelid grove,
Whose haunt the nymphs and satyrs love,

'I follow the late bishop of Chichester's (Dr. Hare) judicious emendation of reading te docterum, &c. for me.

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