Dare Tully, with the golden mouth of Greece, The Sun's refulgent throne; when, high, in noon If life be vain, on what shall man depend! "Here I have end." Rapt'rous, he looks beyond Or time or space; he triumphs o'er decay; And fills eternity: the next to God. P. 38. Paphos, a city of Cyprus; formerly dedicated to Venus. Acidale. A fountain in Orchomenus, a city of Boeotia, where the Graces were supposed to bathe themselves. The genealogy of the Graces is very diversely related. But Hesiod says, they were the offspring of Jupiter and Eurynome. Theog. Page 38. Burst on the tingling ears of Job, &c. The book of Job is ascribed to various authors, and amongst the rest to Moses. I am proud to observe that Dr. Young has strengthened this opinion in his notes to bis admirable poem on Job. Most of the arguments on each side of the question may be found in Pole's Synopsis Critic. in the beginning of his notes on the book of Job: and in Mr. S. Wesley's curious dissertation on the same subject. P. 38. We dream of shadows, when we talk of life. Σκιας οναρ ανθρωποι Pind. Pith. Ode 8. Sophocles has much the same thought in his Seneca was born at Corduba in Spain. Ajax; and, to dignify the sentiment, he puts it into the mouth of Ulysses: Όρω γαρ ημας εδεν οντας άλλο πλην The scholiast observes, that he borrowed the sentiment from Pindar. P. 38. We dream, &c. Of Pelops' shoulderThe poets feign that Tantalus served up his son Pelops to the table of the gods: they reunited the fragments, and formed his shoulder, which was lost, of ivory. Ovid. Met. Lib. vi. Humeroque Pelops insignis eburno. Virg. Georg. iii. I shall add this beautiful passage from Tibullus: Carmina ni sint, Ex humero Pelopis non nituisset ebur. P. 38. Of Pythagoras' thigh. This is told with so much humour by Mr. Addison in one of his finest works, that I rather choose to give an authority from him, than any of the ancients. "The next man astonished the whole table with his appearance: he was slow, solemn and silent, in his behaviour, and wore a raiment curiously wrought with hieroglyphics. As he came into the middle of the room, he throw thigh. Socrates, at the sight of it, declared against back the skirt of it, and discovered a golden keeping company with any who were not made of flesh and blood; and therefore desired Diogenes the Laertian to lead him to the apartment allotted the fabulous heroes, and worthies of dubious existence, &c. The Table of Fame, Tatler, Vol. II. No. 81, P. 38. Of Surius's saints. Surius writ the voluminous legend of the Romish saints, in six volumes in folio. Dr. Donne in his Satyrs has given him this character: P. 40. Salmoneus, of thy brazen bridge, &c. Peloponnesus. He was so arrogant as to affect Salmoneus king of Elis, a province in the being thought a god: for which end he built a bridge of brass, by driving over which in his chariot, he endeavoured to make himself be believed the Thunderer. But Jupiter, enraged at his impiety, struck him dead with a real thunderbolt. Vidi crudeles dantem Salmonea pænas, P. 40. And to Harpocrates consigns the door. Si quicquam tacite commissum est fido ab amico, Catull. Hence Erasmus, Lib. Adag. tells us, that redere Harpocratem is the same as mutum reddere. So Catullus in another place: Patruum reddidit Harpocratem. Ovid describes him in the same manner, without taking notice of his name, amongst the attendants of Isis: Quique premit vocem, digitoque silent a suadet. Metam. Lib. ix. This description entirely agrees with the several medals and statues of Harpocrates, which the learned antiquary Gisb. Cuperus exhibits in his laborious dissertation on that subject, printed with Monumenta Antiqua. Which, humid, dim the mirror of the mind; But upon another account likewise, Harpocrates " Reverebantur Ægypti, præter cætera numina maximè Isin & Osirin, ac horum sive Harpocratem, tanquam Iatricos genios. THE PALACE OF DISEASE. [safe. To shed their bounty here, or smiling, bless With hospitable foot, its bleak domain, Uncultivated. Nor the various robe Of flushing Spring, with purple gay, invests Its blighted plains; nor Summer's radiant hand Profusive, scatters o'er its baleful fields The rich abundance of her glorious days; And golden Autumn bere forgets to reign. Here only hemlock, and whatever weeds Medea gather'd, or Canidia brew'd, Wet with Avernus' waves, or Pontus yields, Or Colchos, or Thessalia, taint the winds, And choke the ground unhallow'd. But the soil Refuses to embrace the kindly seeds Of healing vegetation, sage, and rue, Dittany and amello, blooming still In Virgil's rural page. The bitter yew, The church-yard's shade! and cypress' wither'd Reflections. Invocation of the genius of Spenser. In formidable ranks surround its courts Apostrophe to the dutchess of Somerset. The With umbrage dun; administ'ring a roof Palace of Disease. War. Intemperance. Me-To birds of ominous portent; the bat, lancholy. Fever. Consumption, Small-pox. Complaint on the death of lord Beauchamp. BOOK II. Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew ARGUMENT, DEATH was not man's inheritance, but life [arms The raven boding death, the screaming owl The peevish East, the rheumy South, the North The gifts of God's right-hand! till monstrous Sin, O'er fair Britannia's plains, and wake her flow'rs. The motly child of Satan and of Hell, Eternal damps, and deadly humours, drawn ■ Old. 2 The present dutchess of Somerset. 3 The Platonists suppose that Love, or the celestial Venus (of whom the dove is likewise an emblem) created the world out of chaos. The Sun, with cheerful beams, to purge the air, But roll their suffocating horrours round Incessant, banishing the blooming train Of Health, and Joy, for ever, from the dome. In sad magnificence the palace rears Helmets and spears, and shields, and coats of mail, Its mouldering columns; from thy quarries, Nile, Why will they, when so many plagues involve Of sable marble, and Egyptian mines In gold the apple rose," whose mortal taste [tain A thousand and ten thousand monstrous shapes With the late spoils of Clayton's honour'd life: Those looks illumin'd by his honest heart, From every quarter, lamentations loud, • Milton's Paradise Lost, Book 1st. This habitable globe, (the curse of sin,) The Christian race? At least in Christian climes Right opposite to War a gorgeous throne With bars of steel, with hills of adamant Grasps hard an empty bowl, and shrivell'd strives To drench her parched throat. Not louder groans From Phalaris's bull, as, Fame reports, . Tormented with distressful din the air, And drew the tender tear from Pity's eye. Consumption near; a joyless, meagre wight, Panting for breath, and shrinking into shade Fludes the grasp: thin as the embodied air Which, erst, deceiv'd Ixion's void embrace, Ambitious of a goddess! scarce her legs Feebly she drags, with wheezing labour, on, And motion slow: a willow wand directs Her tottering steps, and marks her for the grave. The last, so turpid to the view, affrights Her neighbour hags. Happy herself is blind, Or madness would ensue; so bloated-black, So loathsome to each sense, the sight or smell, Such foul corruption on this side the grave; Variola yclep'd; ragged and rough, [scenes Her couch perplex'd with thorns. What heavy Hang o'er my heart to feel the theme is mine; But Providence commands, his will be done! She rushes through my blood; she burns along, And riots on my life.-Have mercy, Heav'n!Variola, what, art thou? whence proceeds This virulence, which all, but we, escape? Thon nauseous enemy to human-kind: In man, and man alone, thy mystic seeds, Quiet, and in their secret windings hid, Lie unprolific; till Infection rouze Her pois'nous particles, of proper size, Figure and measure, to exert their pow'r Of impregnation; atoms subtle, barb'd, Infrangible, and active to destroy; By geometric or mechanic rules Yet undiscover'd: quick the leaven runs, Destructive of the solids, spirits, blood Of mortal man, and agitates the whole In general conflagration and misrule. As when the flinty seeds of fire embrace Some fit materials, stubble, furze, or straw, The crackling blaze ascends; the rapid flood Of ruddy flames, impetuous o'er its prey, Rolls its broad course, and half the field devours. | As adders deaf to beauty, wit, and youth, How many living lyres, by thee unstrung, E'er balf their tunes are ended, cease to charm Th' admiring world? So ceas'd the matchless By Cowley honour'd, by Roscommon lov'd, [name, Orinda: blooming Killigrew's soft lay: And manly Oldham's pointed vigour, curs'd By the gor'd sons of Loyola and Rome. And he who Phedra sung, in buskin'd pomp, Mad with incestuous fires, ingenious Smith: Oxonia's sons! And, O, our recent grief! Shall Beauchamp5 die, forgotten by the Muse, Or are the Muses with their Hertfort dumb! Where are ye? weeping o'er thy learned Rhine, Bononia, fatal to our hopes! or else By Kennet's chalky wave, with tresses torn, Or rude, and wildly floating to the winds, Mute, on the hoary willows hang the lyre, Neglected? Or in rural Percy-lodge, Where Innocence and he walk'd hand in hand, The cypress crop, or weave the laurel-bough To grace his honour'd grave? Ye lilies, rise 5 Lord Beauchamp, only son of the earl of Hertford, died at Bolognia of the small-pox, September 11th, 1744, aged 19. Immaculate; ye roses, sweet as morn; His op'ning flow'r of beauty softly smil'd, Why need i name (for distant nations know, Th' unutterable essence of good Heav'n, And are these wonders vanish'd? are those eyes, Where ardent truth and melting mildness shone, Clos'd in a foreign land? no more to bless A father, mother, friend! no more to charm A longing people? O, lamented youth! Since fate and gloomy night thy beauties veil'd With shade mysterious, and eclips'd thy beams, How many Somersets are lost in thee! Yet only lost to Earth!-for trust the Muse, (His virtues rather trust) she saw him rise She saw him smile along the tissu'd clouds, In colours rich-embroider'd by the Sun, Engirt with cherub-wings, and kindred-forms, Children of light, the spotless youth of Heav'n! They hail their blest companion, gain'd so soon A partner of their joys; and crown with stars, Almost as fair, the radiance of his brows. Ev'n where the angel host, with tongues of fire, Chant to their glittering harps th' Almighty's And, in a burning circle, shout around [praise, The jasper-throne, he mingles flames with them; The date of our English poetry may with great justice begin with Spenser. It is true, Chaucer, Gower, and Lydgate were masters of uncommon beauties, considering the age they lived in, and have described the humours, passions, &c. with great discernment. Yet none of them seem to have been half so well acquainted with the very life and being of poetry, invention, painting, and design, as Spenser. Chaucer was the best before him; but then he borrowed most of his poems, either from the ancients, or from Boccace, Petrarch, or the Provençal writers, &c. Thus his Troilus and Cressida, the largest of his works, was taken from Lollius; and the Romaunt of the Rose was translated from the French of John de Meun, an Englishman, who flourished in the reign of Richard 11. and so of the rest. As for those who followed him, such as Heywood, Scogan, Skelton, &c. they seem to be wholly ignorant of either numbers, language, propriety, or even decency itself. I must be understood to except the earl of Surry, sir Thomas Wiat, sir Philip Sidney, several pieces in the Mirror of Magistrates, and a few parts of Mr. G. Gascoign's and Turbervill's works. &c. P. 42. Where David sung, Though a croisade may seem very romantic (and perhaps it is so) yet it has been applauded by the greatest writers of different ages; by Ancas Sylvius, by Bessarion, by Naugerius, &c. who have each writ orations upon that subject. And here I cannot help observing, that Casimire and Jac. Balde, the two most celebrated of the modern lyric poets, have writ several of their finest odes to animate the christian princes to such a design; and that Tasso has adorned the expedition of Godfrey of Bulloign with the most beautiful and perfect poem since the Æneis (for I prefer Milton to Virgil himself.) P. 42. Than Circe subtler far. See Homer's Odyssey, Lib. 10. P. 42. Than young Armida, &c. See Tasso's Il Godfredo, Canto iv. Stanz. 29, &c. Canto xiv. Stanz. 68. Canto xvi. Stanz. 29. P. 42. Machaon swears, &c. Machaon celebrated in Homer; but here used, in general, for any physician. So Ovid: Firma valent per se, nullumque Machaona quærunt. And Martial: Quid tibi cum medicis? dimitte Machaonas omnes." |