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To you my secret transports I disclose,
While every hour, from thence, his high commands, That rise above the languid powers of prose.
By speedy winds convey'd to various lands, But, while these artless numbers you peruse,
Control affairs; give weighty councils birth; Think 't is my heart that dictates, not the Muse; And sway the mighty rulers of the Earth. My heart, which at the name of Brunswick fires, Were he, our island's glory and defence, And no assistance from the Muse requires.
To reign unactive, at the worldl's expense; Believe me, sir, your breast, that glows with Say, generous Craggs, who then should quell the zeal
Of lawless Faction, and reform the age ? [rage For George's glory, and the public weal,
Who should our dear-bought liberties maintain? Your breast alone feels more pathetic heats ; Who fix our leagues with France, and treat with Your heart alone with stronger raptures beats.
Spain? When I review the great examples past,
Who check the headstrong Swede; assuage the Czar; And to the former ages join the last;
Secure our peace, and quench the northern war? Still, as the godlike heroes to me rise,
The Turk, though he the Christian name defies, In arms triumphant, and in councils wise,
And curses Eugene, yet from Eugene fljes, The king is ever present to my mind;
His cause to Brunswick's equity dare trust; His greatness, trac'd in every page, í fud: He knows him valiant, and concludes him just : The Greek and Roman pens his virtues tell, He knows his fame in early youth acquir'd, And under shining names on Brunswick dwell. When turban'd hosts before his sword retir'd. At Hampton while he breathes untainted air,
Thus while his influence to the poles extends, And seems, to vulgar eyes, devoid of care; Or where the day begins, or where it ends, The british Muses to the grove will press,
Far from our coasts he drives off all alarms;
The sovereign lays his regal state aside,
Of pomp ; and on bis 'inborn worth relies.
His subjects are his guests; and daily boast And plans the wonders of succeeding years! The condescension of their royal host : There, as he walks, his comprehensive mind While crowds succeeding crowds on either hand, Surveys the globe, and takes-in all inankind : A ravish'd multitude, admiring stand. While, Britain, for thy sake he wears the crown; His manly wit and sense, with candour join'd, To spread thy power as wide as his renown: His speech with every elegance refin'd, To make thee umpire of contending states, His winning aspect, his becoming ease, And poise the balance in the world's debates. Peculiar graces all, conspire to please,
From the smooth terrass as he casts his eye, And render him to every heart approv'd; And sees the current sea-ward rolling by;
The king respected, and the man belov'd. What schemes of commerce rise in his designs ! Nor is his force of genius less admir'd: Pledges of wealth ! and unexhausted mines ! When most from crowds or public cares retir'd, Through winds and waves, beneath inclement skies, The learned arts, by turns, admittance find; Where stars, distinguish'd by no name, arise, At once unbend and exercise his mind. Our feets shall undiscover'd lands explore, The secret springs of Nature, long conceald, And a new people hear our cannons roar.
And to the wise by slow degrees reveal’d, The rivers, long in ancient story fam’d,
(Delightful search!) his piercing thought descries. Shall flow obscure, nor with the Thames be nam'd: Oft through the concave azure of the skies Nor sball our poets copy from their praise,
His soul delights to range, a boundless space, And Nymphs and Syrens to thy honour raise; Which myriads of celestial glories grace; Nor make thy banks with Tritons' shells resound, Worlds behind worlds, that deep in ether lie, Nor bind thy brows with humble sedges round: And suns, that twinkle to the distant eye; But paint thee as thou art • a peopled stream! Or call them stars, on which our fates depend, The boast of merchants, and the sailors' theme ! And every ruling star is Brunswick's friend. Whose spreading foods unnumber'd ships sustain, Soon as the rising Sun shoots o'er the stream, And pour whole towns afloat into the main; And gilds the palace with a ruddy beam, While the redundant seas waft up fresh stores, You to the healthful chase attend the king, The daily tribute of far-distant shores.
And hear the forest with the huntsmen ring: Back to thy source I try thy silver-train, While in the dusty town we rule the state, That gently winds through many a fertile plain; And from gazettes determine England's fate. Where tlocks and lowing herds in plenty feed, Our groundless hopes and groundless fears prevail And shepherds tune at ease the vocal reed: As artful brokers comment on the mail. Ere yet thy waters meet the briny tide,
Deafen'd with news, with politics opprest, Add freighted vessels down thy channel ride; I wish the wind ne'er varied from the west. Ere yet thy billows leave their banks behind, Secure, on George's councils I rely, Swell into state, and foam before the wind : Give up my cares, and Britain's foes defy. Thy sovereign's emblem! in thy course complete! What though cabals are form’d, and impious leagues? When I behold him in his lov'd retreat,
Though Rome fills Europe with her dark intrigues ? Where rural scenes their pleasing views disclose, His vigilance, on every state intent, A sylvan deity the monarch shows;
Defeats their plots, and over-rules th' event, And if he only knew the woods to grace,
But whither do my vain endeavours tend? To rouse the stag, and animate the chase: Or how shall I my rash attempt defend?
Divided in my choice, from praise to praise Yet would I hope, yet hope I know not why, I rove, bewilder'd in the pleasing maze.
(But hopes and wishes in one balance lie) One virtue mark’d, another I pursue,
Thou mayst revisit, with thy wonted smiles, While yet another rises to my view.
Tërna, island set around with isles : Unequal to the task, too late I find
May the same heart, that bids thee now adieu, The growing theme unfinish'd left behind.
Salute thy sails, and hail thee into view !
ROM White's and Will's
To purling rills
The love-sick Strephon flies;
There, full of woe,
His numbers flow,
And all in rhyme he dies.
The fair coquet,
With feign'd regret, Go, Carteret, go; and, with thee, go along Invites him back to town; The nation's blessing, and the poet's song;
But, when in tears Loud acclamations, with melodious lays,
The youth appears, The kindest wishes, and sincerest praise.
She meets him with a frown. Go, Carteret, go; and bear my joys away!
Full oft the maid So speaks the Muse, that fain would bid thee stay :
This prank had play'd, So spoke the virgin to the youth unkind,
Till angry Strephon swore, Who gave his vows, and canvass, to the wind,
And, what is strange, And promis'd to return; but never more
Though loth to change,
Would never see her more.
Hy we love, and why we hate, 0, while mine eye pursues the fading sails,
Is not granted us to know:
Guides the shaft from Cupid's bow.
If on me Zelinda frown,
Madness 't is in me to grieve: And now farewell, ( early in renown,
Since her will is not her own, Illustrious, young, in labours for the crown,
Why should I uneasy live? Just, and benign, and vigilant, in power,
If I for Zelinda die, And elegant to grace the vacant hour,
Deaf to poor Mizella's cries, Relaxing sweet! Nor are we born to wear
Ask not me the reason why:
Seek the riddle in the skies.
TO SIGNORA CUZZONI.
MAY 25, 1724.
Little Syren of the stage, And Carolina, chiding tardy Time,
Charmer of an idle age,
Empty warbler, breathing lyre,
Accept this token, Carteret, of good-will, O, tuo pleasing in thy strain,
Hence, to southern climes again;
To this island bid farewell;
Leave us as we ought to be,
TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE
JUNE 30, 1718.
Thousands, nobly born, shall die,
But, o Halifax, thy name
And the store of charms which shine
Happy thrice, and thrice again,
TO THE HONOURABLE
ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
WILLIAM EARL COWPER. 1723.
By the next returning spring,
Then the taper-moulded waist
WAKE the British harp again,
tain To mortal man, whatever things befall, Are from eternity confirm'd, beyond recall :
When next, thou sea-surrounded land, Where every loss, and every gain,
Thy nobles meet at Brunswick's high command, Where every grief, and every joy,
In vain they shall the charmer's voice desire, Every pleasure, every pain,
In vain those lips of eloquence require, Each bitter, and each sweet alloy,
That mild conviction, which the soul assails To us uncertain though they flow,
By soft alarms, and with a gentle force prevails ! Are pre-ordain'd, and fix'd, above.
EPÚDE 111. Too wretched state, did man foreknow
To such persuasion willing yields Those ills, which man cannot remove !
The liberal mind, in freedom train'd, Vain is wisdom for preventing
Freedom, which, in crimson'd fields, What the wisest live lamenting.
By hardy toil our fathers gain'd,
Inheritance of long descent! Hither sent, who knows the day
The sacred pledge so dearly priz'd When he shall be call'd away?
By that blest spirit we lament: Various is the term assign'd:
Grief-easing lays, by grief devis'd, An hour, a day, some months, or years,
Plaintive numbers, gently flowing, The brcathing soul on Earth appears :
Sooth the sorrows to him owing!
Early on his growing heir
Stamp what time may not impair, Diffus'd o'er lands, or float on oceans wide,
As he grows, that coming years, Of them, though many here long-lingering dwell,
Or youthful pleasures, or the vain And see their children's children, yet, how few excel! Gigantic phantom of the brain,
Ambition, breeding monstrous hopes and fears, ANTISTROPHE II.
Or worthier cares to youth unknown, Here we come, and hence we go,
Ennobling manhood, Hower of life full-blown, Shadows passing to and fro,
May never wear the bosom-image faint: Seen a while, forgotten soon:
0, let him prove what words but weakly paint, But thou, to fair distinction born,
The lively lovely semblance of his sire,
A model to his son! that ages may admire!
Every virtue, every grace, Thou singled out the fosterling of Fame,
Still renewing in the race, Secure of praise, nor less secur'd from blame, Once thy father's pleasing hope, Shall be remember'd with a fond applause,
Thy widow'd mother's comfort now, So long as Britons own the same indulgent laws.
No fuller bliss does Heaven allow,
While we behold yon wide-spread azure cope, United in one public weal,
With burning stars thick-luster'd o'er, Rejoicing in one freedom, all,
Than to enjoy, and to deserve, a store Cowper's hand applied the seal,
Of treasur'd fame, by blameless deeds acquir'd, And levell’d the partition-wall.
By all unenvied, and by all desir'd, The chosen seeds of great events
Free-gift of men, the tribute of good-will!
Rich in this patrimony fair, increase it still.
The fullness of content remains
Above the yet unfathom'd skies, Fajn would I record his glory.
Where, triumphant, gladness reigns,
Where wishes cease, and pleasures rise Pouring forth, with heavy heart,
Beyond all wish; where bitter tears Truth unleaven'd, pure of art,
For dying friends are never shed; Like the hallow'd bard of yore,
Where, signing, none desire past years Who chianted in authentic rhymes
Recall'd, or wish the future fied. The worthies of the good old times,
Mournful measures, O relieve me!
Sweet remembrance! cease to grieve me.
Sullied not as heretofore,
With yearly gifts. Of what avail
Are guilty hoards ? for life is frail;
And we are judg’d where favour is not bought. Hear him speaking, and you hear
By him fore warn’d, thou frantic isle, Reason tuneful to the ear!
How did the thirst of gold thy sons beguile! Lips with thymy language sweet,
Beneath the specious ruin thousands groan'd, Distilling on the hearer's mind
By him, alas, forewarn’d, by him bemoan'd. The balm of wisdom, speech refin'd,
Where shall his like, on Earth, be found? oh, when Celestial gifts 1-Oh, when the nobles meet, Shall I, once more, behold the most belov'd of men'
E PODE IV.
Th’ungifted tribe in metre pass away, Winning aspect! winning mind!
Oblivion's sport, the poets of a day. Soul and body aptly join'd!
What laws shall o'er the Ode preside? Searching thought, engaging wit,
In vain would Art presume to guide Enabled to instruct or please,
The chariot-wheels of Praise, Uniting dignity with ease,
When Fancy, driving, ranges free, By Nature form'd for every purpose fit,
Fresh flowers selecting, like the bee, Endearing excellence !-0, why
And regularly strays, Is such perfection born, and born to die!
While Nature does, disdaining aids of skill, Or do such rare endowments still survive,
The mind with thought, the ears with numbers As plants, remov'd to milder regions, thrive
fill. In one eternal spring? and we bewail The parting soul, new-born to life that cannot fail,
As when the Theban hymns divine
Make proud Olympian victors shine
In an eternal blaze,
The varying measures, ever new, Parental joys unmixt with care,
Unbeaten tracks of Fame pursue, Through perpetual time improve?
While through the glorious maze Or do the deathless blessed share
The poet leads his heroes to renown,
And weaves in verse a never-fading crown.
TO MISS MARGARET PULTENEY,
(DAUGHTER OF DANIEL PULTENEY, ESQ.)
IN THE NURSERY.
April 27, 1727.
Dimply damsel, sweetly smiling,
All caressing, none beguiling, Who, dignified above the rest,
Bud of beauty, fairly blowing, Does still unenvied live?
Every charm to Nature owing, Not to the man whose wealth abounds,
This and that new thing admiring, Nor to the man whose fame resounds,
Much of this and that inquiring, Does Heaven such favour give,
Knowledge by degrees attaining, Nor to the noble-born, nor to the strong,
Day by day some virtue gaining, Nor to the gay, the beautiful, or young.
Ten years hence, when I leave chiming, Whom then, secure of happiness,
Beardless poets, fondly rhyming, Does every eye beholding bless,
(Pescued now, perhaps, in spelling,) And every tongue commend?
On thy riper beauties dwelling, Him, Pulteney, who, possessing store,
Shall accuse each killing feature Is not solicitous of more,
Of the cruel, charming creature, Who, to mankind a friend,
Whom I knew complying, willing, Nor envies, nor is envied by, the great,
Tender, and averse from killing.
Whose unambitious, active soul
When public storms arise,
MISS CHARLOTTE PULTENEY, IN HER Still elegantly wise;
May 1, 1724.
Timely blossom, infant fair, And factions in his praise agree,
Fondling of a happy pair, When most they vex the state:
Every morn, and every night, Distinguish'd favourite of the skies,
Their solicitous delight,
Sleeping, waking, still at ease,
Pleasing, without skill to please,
Little gossip, blithe and hale, His precious name, and win him from the grave.
Tattling many a broken tale, Too frail is brass and polish'd stone;
Singing many a tuneless song,
Lavish of a heedless tongue,
Simple maiden, void of art,
Babbling out the very heart,
Yet abandon'd to thy will,
Yet imagining no ill,