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Bear witness. There, oft let the farmer hail I come, the ancient founder of the stage,

The sacred orchard which inbowers his gate, Intent to learn, in this discerning age,
And show to strangers passing down the vale, What form of wit your fancies have embrac'd,

Where Ca’ndish, Booth, and Osborne sate; And whither tends your elegance of taste,
When, bursting from their country's chain, That thus at length our honely toils you spurn,
Even in the midst of deadly arms,

That thus to foreign scenes you proudly turn,
Of papal spares and lawless arms,

That from my brow the laurel wreath you claim They plann'd for Freedom this her noblest reign. To crown the rivals of your country's fame.

What, though the footsteps of my devious Muse VI.

The measur'd walks of Grecian art refuse? This reign, these laws, this public care, Or though the frankness of my hardy style Which Nassau gave us all to share,

Mock the nice touches of the critic's file?
Had ne'er adorn’d the English name,

Yet, what my age and climate held to view,
Could Fear have silenc'd Freedom's claim. Impartial I survey'd and fearless drew.
But Fear in vain attempts to biud

And say, ye skilful in the human heart,
Those lofty efforts of the mind

Who know to prize a poet's noblest part,
Which social Good inspires;

What age, what clime, could e'er an ampler field
Where men, for this, assault a throne, For lofty thought, for daring fancy, yield ?
Each adds the common welfare to bis own; I saw this England break the shameful bands
And each unconquer'd heart the strength of all ac- Forg'd for the souls of men by sacred hands :

I saw each groaning realm her aid implore;

Her sons the heroes of each warlike shore: Say, was it thus, when late we view'd

Her naval standard (the dire Spaniard's bane) Our fields in civil blood imbrued ?

Obey'd through all the circuit of the main. When Fortune crown'd the barbarous host, Then too great Commerce, for a late-found world, And half the astonish'd isle was lost?

Around your coast her eager sails unfurld: Did one of all that vaunting train,

New hopes, new passions, thence the bosom fir'd; Who dare aflront a peaceful reign,

New plans, new arts, the genius thence inspir'd; Durst one in arms appear?

Thence every scene, which private fortune knows, Durst one in counsels pledge his life?

In stronger life, with bolder spirit, rose. Stake his luxurious fortunes in the strife ? Disgrac'd I this full prospect which I drew ? Or lend his boasted name his vagrant friends to cheer? My colours languid, or my strokes untrue ?

Have not your sages, warriors, swains, and kings, Yet, Hastings, these are they

Confess'd the living draught of men and things? Who challenge to themselves thy co:intry's love; What other bard in any clime appears

The true; the constant: who alone can weigh, Alike the master of your smiles and tears ?
What Glory should demand, or Liberty approve! Yet have I deign'd your audience to entice

But let their works declare them. Thy free powers, With wretched bribes to Luxury and Vice?
The generous powers of thy prevailing mind, Or have my various scenes a purpose known
Not for the tasks of their confederate hours, Which Freedom, Virtue, Glory, might not own?
Lewd brawls and lurking slander, where design'd. Such from the first was my dramatic plan :
Be thou thy own approver. Honest praise It should be yours to crown what I began:
Oft nobly sways

And now that England spurns her Gothic chain,
Ingenuous youth:

And equal laws and social science reign,
But, sought from cowards and the lying mouth, I thought, Now surely shall my zealous eyes
Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone

View nobler bards and juster critics rise,
For mortals fixeth that sublime award.

Intent with learned labour to refine
He, from the faithful records of his throne, The copious ore of Albion's native mine,
Bids the bistorian and the bard

Our stately Muse more graceful airs to teach,
Dispose of honour and of scorn;

And form her tongue to more attractive speech, Discern the patriot from the slave;

Till rival nations listen at her feet,
And write the good, the wise, the brave, And own her polish’d, as they own'd her great.
For lessons to the multitude unborn.

But do you thus my favourite hopes fulfil?
Is France at last the standard of your skill?
Alas for you! that so betray a mind

Of art unconscious, and to beauty blind.

Say; does her language your ambition raise,

Her barren, trivial, unharmonious phrase,
ODE 1.

Which fetters eloquence to scantiest bounds,

And maims the cadence of poetic sounds ? THE REMONSTRANCE OF SHAKSPEARE:

Say; does your humble admiration choose
SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, | The gentle prattle of her comic Muse,

While wits, plain-dealers, fops, and fools appear,
Charg'd to say nought but what the king may heard
Or rather melt your sympathizing hearts,

Won by her tragic scene's romantic arts,
If, yet regardful of your native land,

Where old and young declaim on soft desire, Old Shakspeare's tongue you deign to understand, And heroes never, but for love, expire ? Lo! from the blissful bowers where Heaven rewards No. Though the charms of novelty, a while, Instructive sages and unblemish'd bards,

Perbaps too fondly win your thoughtless smile,



Yet not for you design'd indulgent Fate

Nor yet those awful forms present, The modes or manners of the Bourbon state.

For chiefs and heroes only meant: And ill your minds my partial judgment reads, The figur'd brass, the choral song, Aud many an augury my hope misleads,

The rescued people's glad applause, If the fair maids of yonder blooming train

The listening senate, and the laws 'To their light courtship would an audience deign, Fix'd by the counsels of 'Timoleon's' tongue, Or those chaste matrons a Parisian wife

Are scenes too grand for Fortune's private ways; Chose for the model of domestic life;

And though they shine in youth's ingenuous view, Or if one youth of all that generous band,

The sober gainful arts of modern days The strength and splendour of their patire land, To such romantic thoughts have bid a long adieu. Wonid yield his portion of his country's fame, And quit old Freedom's patrimonial claim,

I ask not, god of dreams, thy care With lying smiles Oppression's pomp to see,

To banish Love's presentments fair: And judge of glory by a king's decree.

Nor rosy cheek, nor radiant eye O blest at home with justly-envied laws,

Can arın him with such strong command O loog the chiefs of Europe's general cause,

That the young sorcerer's fatal hand Whom Heaven bath chosen at each dangerous hour

Shall round my soul his pleasing fetters tie. To check the inroads of barbaric power,

Nor yet the courtier's hope, the giving smile The rights of trampled nations to reclaim,

(A lighter phantom, and a baser chain) And guard the social world from bonds and shame; Did e'er in slumber my proud lyre beguile Oh! let not Luxury's fantastic charms

To lend the pomp of thrones her ill-according strain, Thus give the to your heroic arms: Nor for the ornaments of life embrace Dishonest lessons from that vaunting race,

But, Morpheus, on thy balmy wing

Such honourable visions bring,
Whom Fate's dread laws (for, in eternal Fate,

As sooth'd great Milton's injur'd age,
Despotic Rule was heir to Freedom's hate)
Whom, in each warlike, each commercial part,

When in prophetic dreams he saw

The race unborn with pious awe In civil counsel, and in pleasing art,

Imbibe each virtue from his heavenly page:
The judge of Earth predestin'd for your foes,
And made it fame and virtue to oppose.

Or such as Mead's benignant fancy knows
When Health's deep treasures, by his art explord,

Have sav'd the infant from an orphan's woes,
Or to the trembling sire his age's hope restor'd.



Taou silent power, whose welcome sway
Charms every anxious thought away;

In whose divine oblivion drown’d,
Sore pain and weary toil grow mild,

O RUSTIC herald of the Spring,
Love is with kinder looks beguild,

At length in yonder woody vale

Fast by the brook I hear thee sing;
And Grief forgets her fondly-cherish'd wound;
O whither hast thou flown, indulgent god ?

And, studious of thy homely tale,

Amid the vespers of the grove,
God of kind shadows and of healing dews,
Whom dost thou touch with thy Lethæan rod ?

Amid the chaunting choir of love,

Thy sage responses hail.
Around whose temples now thy opiate airs diffuse?
Lo! Midnight from her starry reign

The time has been when I have frown'd
Looks awful down on earth and main.

To hear thy voice the woods invade; The tuneful birds lie hush'd in sleep,

And while thy solemn accent drown'd With all that crop the verdant food,

Some sweeter poet of the shade, With all that skim the crystal flood,

Thus," thought I, “ thus the sons of Care Or haunt the caverns of the rocky steep.

Some constant youth, or generous fair,
No rushing winds disturb the tufted bowers;

With dull advice upbraid."
No wakeful sound the moon-light valley knows,
Save where the brook its liquid murmur pours,

I said, “While Philomela's song
And lulls the waving scene to more profound repose.

Proclaims the passion of the grove,

It ill beseems a cuckoo's tongue Olet not me alone complain,

Her charming language to reprove"Alone invoke thy power in vain!

Alas! how much a lover's ear Descend, propitious, on my eyes ;

Hiates all the sober truth to hear, Not from the couch that bears a crown,

The sober truth of Love! Not from the courtly statesman's down, Nor where the miser and his treasure lies : Bring not the shapes that break the murderer's rest, " After Timoleon had delivered Syracuse from Nor those the hireling soldier loves to see, the tyranny of Dionysius, the people on every im

Nor those which haunt the bigot's gloomy breast: portant deliberation sent for him into the public Far be their guilty nights, and far their dreams assembly, asked his advice, and voted according from me!

to it. Plutarch.


When hearts are in each other bless'd,

Had this been born to shield When nought but lofty Faith can rule

The cause wbich Cromwell's impious hand betraya, The nymph's and swain's consenting breast,

Or that, like Vere, display'd How cuckoo-like in Cupid's school,

His redcross banner o'er the Belgian field; With store of grave prudential saws

Yet where the will divine On Fortune's power and Custom's laws,

Hath shut those loftiest paths, it next remains, Appears each friendly fool!

With reason clad in strains

Of harmony, selected minds to inspire, Yet think betimes, ye gentle train

And Virtue's living fire
Whom Love and Hope and Fancy sway,

To feed and eternize in hearts like thine.
Whom every harsher care disdain,
Who by the morning judge the day,

For never shall the herd, whom Envy sways, Think that, in April's fairest hours,

So quell my purpose or my tongue control, To warbling shades and painted flowers

That I should fear illustrious worth to praise, The cuckoo joins his lay.

Because its master's friendship mov'd iny soul.

Yet if this undissembling strain

Should now perhaps thine ear detain

With any pleasing sound,
Remember thou that righteous Fame

From hoary Age a strict account will claim
THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND. Of each auspicious palm with which thy youth was






Nor obvious is the way
How oft shall I survey

Where Heaven expects thee; nor the traveller leads, This humble roof, the lawn, the greenwood shade,

Through flowers or fragrant meads, The vale with sheaves o'erspread,

Or groves that hark to Philomela's lay. The glassy brook, the flocks which round thee stray;

The impartial laws of Fate When will thy cheerful mind

To nobler virtues wed severer cares. Of these bave utter'd all her dear csteem?

Is there a man who shares Or, tell me, dost thou deem

The summit next where heavenly natures dwell? No more to join in Glory's toilsome race,

Ask him (for he can tell) But here content embrace

What storms beat round that rough laborious height. That happy leisure which thou hadst resign'd?

Ye heroes, who of old Alas! ye happy hours,

Did generous England Freedom's throne ordain; When books and youthful sports the soul could share,

From Alfred's parent reign
Ere one ambitious care

To Nassau, great deliverer, wise and bold;
Of civil life had aw'd her simpler powers;

I know your perils hard. Oft as your winged train

Your wounds, your painful marches, wintry seas, Revisit here my friend in white array,

The night estrang'd from ease,
O fail not to display

The day by cowardice and falsehood vex'd,
Each fairer scene where I perchance had part,

The head with doubt perplex'd, That so his generous heart

The indignant heart disdaining the reward The abode of even friendship may remain.

Which Envy hardly grants. But, O Renown, For not imprudent of my loss to come,

Opraise from judging Heaven and virtuous I saw froin Contemplation's quiet cell

men, His feet ascending to another home

If thus they purchas'd thy divinest crown, Where public Praise and envied Greatness dwell.

Say, who shall hesitate ? or who complain ?
But shall we therefore, O my lyre,

And now they sit on thrones above:
Reprove Ambition's best desire?

And when among the gods they more
Extinguish Glory's flame?

Before the sovereign mind,
Far other was the task enjoin'd

“ Lo, these,” he saith, “ lo, these are they When to my hand thy strings were first assign'd: Who to the laws of mine eternal sway Far other faith belongs to Friendship's honour'd From violence and fear asserted human kind."



Thee, Townshend, not the arms
Of slumbering Ease, nor Pleasure's rosy chain,

Were destin'd to detain :
No, nor bright Science, nor the Muse's charms.

For them high Heaven prepares
Their proper votaries, an humbler band :

And ne'er would Spenser's hand
Have deign'd to strike the warbling Tuscan shell,

Nor Harrington to tell
What habit an immortal city wears.

Thus honour'd while the train
Of legislators in his presence dwell;

If I may aught foretell,
The statesman shall the second palm obtain.

For dreadful deeds of arms
Let vulgar bards, with undiscerning praise,

More glittering trophies raise :
But wisest Heaven what deeds may chiefly move

To favour and to love?
What, save wide blessings, or averted harms ?

Nor to the embattled field

He knew, the patriot kuew,
Shall the achievements of the peaceful gown That letters and the Muses' powerful art
The green immortal crown

Exalt the ingenuons heart,
Of valonr, or the songs of conquest yield.

And brighten every form of just and true.
Not Fairfax wildly bold,

They lend a pobler sway
While bare of crest he hew'd his fatal way, To civil Wisdom, than Corruption's lure
Through Naseby's firm array,

Could ever yet procure:
To heavier dangers did his breast opposé

They too from Envy's pale malignant liglit
Than Pym's free virtue chose,

Conduct her forth to sight,
When the proud force of Strafford he control'd. Cloth'd in the fairest colours of the day.
But what is man at enmity with truth?

O Townshend, thus may Time, the judge severe, What were the fruits of Wentworth's copious Instruct my happy tongue of thee to tell : mind,

And when I speak of one to Freedom dear When (blighted all the promise of his youth)

For planning wisely and for acting well,
The patriot in a tyrant's league bad join'd ?

Of one whom Glory loves to own,
Let Ireland's loud-lamenting plains,

Who still by liberal means alone
Let Tyne's and Humber's trampled swains,

Hath liberal ends pursued;
Let menac'd London tell

Then, for the guerdon of my lay,
How impious Guile made Wisdom base; “ This man with faithful friendship,” will I say,
How generous Zeal to cruel Rage gave place; “From youth to honour'd age my arts and me
And how unbless'd he liv'd, and how dishonour'd

hath view'd." fell.

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Yet, Hall, while thy judicious ear

What page, in all thy annals bright, Admires the well-dissembled art

Hast thou with purer joy survey'd That can such harmony impart

Than that where Truth, by Hoadly's aid, To the lame pace of Gallic rhymes;

Shines through Imposture's solemn shade, While wit from affectation clear,

Through kingly and through sacerdotal night? Bright images, and passious true, Recall to thy assenting view

To him the Teacher bless'd, The envied bards of nobler times;

Who sent eligion, from the palmy sield

By Jordan, like the morn to cheer the west, Say, is not oft his doctrine wrong?

And lifted up the veil which Heaven from Earth This priest of Pleasure, who aspires

conceal’d, To lead us to her sacred fires,

To Hoadly thus bis mandate be address'd : Knows he the ritual of her shrine?

“ Go thou, and rescue my dishonour'd law Say (her sweet influence to thy song

From hands rapacious and from tongues impure: So may the goddess still afford)

Let not my peaceful name be made a lure Doth she consent to be ador'd

Fell Persecution's mortal snares to aid: With shameless love and frantic wine?

Let not my words be impious chains to draw

The freeborn soul in more than brutal awe, Nor Cato, nor Chrysippus here

To faith without assent, allegiance unrepaid." Need we in high indignant phrase From their Elysian quiet raise :

II. But Pleasure's oracle alone

No cold or unperforming hand Consult; attentive, not severe.

Was arm'd by Heaven with this command. O Pleasure, we blaspheme not thee;

The world soon felt it: and, on bigh, Nor emulate the rigid knee

To William's ear with welcome joy Which bends but at the stoic throne.

Did Locke among the blest unfold

The rising hope of Hoadly's name, We own had Fate to man assign'd

Godolphin then confirm’d the fame;
Nor sense, nor wish, but what obey

And Somers, when from Earth he came,
Or Venus soft or Bacchus gay,
Then might our bard's voluptuous creed

And generous Stanhope the fair sequel told.
Most aptly govern human kind:

Then drew the lawgivers around, Unless perchance what he hath sung

(Sires of the Grecian name renown'd) Of tortur'd joints and nerves unstring,

And listening ask'd, and wondering knew, Some wrangling heretic should plead.

What private force could thus subdue

The vulgar and the great combin'd; *But now with all these proud desires

Could war with sacred Folly wage ; Tor dauntless truth and honest fame;

Could a whole nation disengage
With that strong master of our frame,

Froin the dread bonds of many an age,
The inexorable judge within,
What can be done? Alas! ve fires

And to new habits mould the public mind.
Of love; alas! ye rosy smiles,

For not a conqueror's sword, Ye nectar'd cups from happier soils,

Nor the strong powers to civil founders known, --Ye have no bribe his grace to win.

Were his : but truth by faithful search exploril, And social seuse, like seed, in genial plenty sown.

Wherever it took root, the soul (restor'd

To freedom) freedom too for others sought. ODE VII.

Not monkish craft, the tyrant's claim divine,

Not regal zeal, the bigot's cruel shrine,

Could longer guard from reason's warfare sage;

Not the wild rabble to sedition wrought, BENJAMIN LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER.

Nor synods by the papal genius taught,

Nor St. Jobn's spirit loose, nor Atterbury's rage. M.DCC.LIV.


For toils which patriots have endurd,
For treason quell'd and laws securd,
In every nation Time displays
The palm of honourable praise.
Envy may rail; and Faction fierce
May strive; but what, alas! can those
(Though bold, yet blind and sordid foes)

To gratitude and love oppose,
To faithful story and persnasive verse ?

But where shall recompense be found?
Or how such arduous merit crown'd?
For look on life's laborious scene;
What rugged spaces lie between
Adventurous Virtue's early toils
And her triumphal throne! The shade
Of Death, mean time, does oft invade
Her progress; nor, to us display'd,
Wcars the bright heroine her expected spoils.

Yet born to conquer is her power:
- O Hoadly, if that favourite hour
On Earth arrive, with thankful awe
We own just Heaven's indulgent law,

O nurse of Freedom, Albion, say,
Thou tamer of despotic sway,
What man, among thy sons around,
Thus heir to glory hast thou found ?

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