"And you who tho' by the rude torrent borne)" "Unwillingly along, you yield with pain.
To his behests, and act what you disdain, "Yet nourish in your hearts the gen'rous love "Of piety and truth, no more restrain "The manly zeal, but all your sinews move "The present to reclaim, the future race improve.
"Eftsoons by your joint efforts shall be quell'd Yon haughty giant, who so proudly sways "A sceptre by repute alone upheld,
Who where he cannot dictates straight obeys: "Accustom'd to conform his flatt'ring phrase To numbers and light-plac'd authority "Your party he will join, your maxims praise, "And, drawing after all his inenial fry, "Soon teach the gen'ral voice your act to ratify. "Ne for th' achievement of this great emprize "The want of means or counsel may ye dread; “From my twin-daughters' fruitful wombs shall "A race of letter'd sages deeply read [rise "In learning's various writ, by whom yled "Thro' each well cultur'd plot, each beauteous "grove,
"Where antic wisdom whilom wont to tread, With mingled glee and profit may ye rove, "And cull each virtuous plant, each tree of "knowledge prove.
"Yourselves with virtue thus and knowledge "fraught,
"Of what in antient days of good or great Historians, bards, philosophers, have taught, Join'd with whatever else of modern date Maturer judgement, search more accurate, Discover'd have of Nature, Man and God, May by new laws reform the time-worn state Of cell-bred discipline, and smooth the road "That leads thro' learning's vale to wisdom's "bright abode.
"By you invited to her secret bow'rs, "Then shall Pædia re-ascend her throne, "With vivid laurels girt and fragrant flow'rs; Whilefromtheirforkedmountdescending down Yon supercilious pedant train shall own "Her empire paraniount, ere long by her Yaught a lesson in their schools unknown, "To learning's richest treasure to prefer "The knowledge of the world and man's great
"On this prime science, as the final end "Of all her discipline and nurt'ring care, "Her eye Pædia fixing, aye shall bend "Her ev'ry thought and effort to prepare "Her tender pupils for the various war "Which vice and folly shall upon them wage "As on the perilous march of life they fare, "With prudent lore fore-arming ev'ry age "'Gainst Pleasure's treach'rous joys and Pain's "embattled rage.
"Then shall my youthful sons, to wisdom led "By fair example and ingenuous praise, "With willing feet the paths of duty tread,
Thro' the world's intricate or rugged ways, "Conducted by Religion's sacred rays, "Whose soul-invigorating influence "Shall purge their minds from all impure allays "Of sordid seifishness, and brutal sense; [lence. "And swell th' ennobled heart with blest benevo
Then also shall this emblematic pile, "By magic whilom fram'd to sympathise "With all the fortunes of this changeful isle,
Still as my sons in fame and virtue rise, [skies "Grow with their growth, and to th' applauding It's radiant cross uplift; the while to grace The multiplying niches fresh supplies "Of worthies shall succeed, with equal pace Aye following their sires in virtue's glorious
Fir'd with th' idea of her future fame, While from her vivid eyes a sparkling flame She rose majestic from her lowly stead, Outbeaming, with unwonted light o'erspread That monumental pile, and, as her head To ev'ry front she turn'd, discover'd round The venerable forms of heroes dead, Who for their various merit, erst renown'd, On these that royal dame her ravish'd eyes In this bright fane of glory shrines of honor found. Would often feast; and ever as she spied [rise, Forth from the ground the length'ning structure Her parent breast would swell withgen'rous pride. With new-plac'd statues deck'd on ev'ry side, And now with her in that sequester'd plain She to the Fairy youth with pleasure fain The knight a while constraining to abide, Those sculptur'd chiefs did show, and their great lives explain.
§ 57. A Birth-Day Thought. CAN I, all-gracious Providence! Can I deserve thy care? Ah! no: I've not the least pretence To bounties which I share. Have I not been defended still
From dangers and from death; Been safe preserv'd from ev'ry ill
E'er since thou gave me breath? live once more, to see the day teach my willing heart the way That brought me first to light; To take thy mercies right. Tho' dazzling splendor, pomp, and show, My fortune has denied ;
Yet more than grandeur can bestow Content hath well supplied.
No strife has e'er disturb'd my peace, No mis'ries have I known;
And, that I'm bless'd with health and ease, With humble thanks I own:
I envy no one's birth or fame,
Their titles, train, or dress; Nor has my pride e'er stretch'd its aim Beyond what I possess. Ff
I ask and wish, not to appear More beauteous, rich, or gay; Lord make me wiser ev'ry year, And better ev'ry day.
From her loose hair the dropping dew she press'd, And thus mine ear in accents mild address'd : No more, my son, the rural reed employ, Nor trill the tinkling strain of empty joy; No more thy love-resounding sonnets suit To notes of past'ral pipe or oaten flute.
§ 56. A Moral Reflection. Written on the first For hark! high-thron'd on yon majestic walls,
Day of the Year 1782.
SEVENTEEN Hundred Eighty-one
Is now for ever past :
Seventeen Hundred Eighty-two Will fly away as fast.
But whether life's uncertain scene Shall hold an equal pace;
Or whether death shall come between, And end my mortal race : Or whether sickness, pain, or health, My future lot shall be; Or whether poverty or wealth
Is all unknown to me.
One thing I know, that needful 'tis To watch with careful eye; Since ev'ry season spent amiss Is register'd on high.
Too well I know what precious hours My wayward passions waste; And oh! I find my mortal pow'rs
To dust and darkness haste. Earth rolls her rapid seasons round, To meet her final fire;
But virtue is with glory crown'd, Tho' suns and stars expire.
What awful thoughts! what truths sublime!
What useful lesson this!
O! let me well improve my time!
Oh! let me die in peace!
To the dear Muse afflicted Freedom calls: When Freedom calls, and Oxford bids theesing, Why stays thy hand to strike the sounding string? While thus, in Freedom's and in Phoebus' spite, The venal sons of slavish Cam unite; Toshake yon towers when malice rears her crest, Shall all my sons in silence idly rest?
Still sing, O Cam, your fav'rite freedom's cause, Still boast of freedom, while you break her laws; To Pow'r your songs of gratulation pay; To Courts address soft flattery's servile lay. What tho' your gentle Mason's plaintive verse Has hung with sweetest wreaths Museus' herse; What tho' your vaunted bard's ingenuous woe, Soft as my stream, in tuneful numbers flow; Yet strove his Muse, by fame or envy led, To tear the laurels from a sister's head?. Misguided youth! with rude unclassic rage To blot the beauties of thy whiter page; A rage that sullies e'en thy guiltless lays, And blasts the vernal bloom of half thy bays.
Let *** boast the patrons of her name, Each splendid fool of fortune and of fame: Still of preferment let her shine the queen, Prolific parent of each bowing dean : Be hers each prelate of the pamper'd cheek, Each courtly chaplain, sanctify'd and sleek: Still let the drones of her exhaustless hive On rich pluralities supinely thrive : Still let her senates titled slaves revere, Nor dare to know the patriot from the peer; No longer charm'd by virtue's lofty song, Once heard sage Milton's manly tones among
§ 59. The Triumph of Isis, occasioned by Isis, Where Cam, meand'ring thro' the matted reeds,
an Elegy. T. WARTON.
Quidmihi nescioquam,propriocum Tybride Romam Semper in ore geris? Referunt si vera parentes, Hanc Urbem insano nullus qui Marte petivit, Lætatus violasse redit. Nec Numina Sedem Destituent.-
ON closing flow'rs when genial gales diffuse The fragrant tribute of refreshing dews; When chaats the milk-maid at her balmy pail, And weary reapers whistle o'er the vale ; Charm'd by the murmurs of the quivering shade, O'er Isis willow-fringed banks I stray'd: And calmly musing through the twilight way, Iu pensive mood I fram'd the Doric lay. When lo! from op'ning clouds a golden gleam Pour'd sudden splendors o'er the shadowy stream; And from the wave arose its guardian queen, Known by her sweeping stole of glossy green; While in the coral crown that bound her brow, Was wove the Delphic laurel's verdant bough. As the smooth surface of the dimply flood The silver-slipper'd virgin lightly trod;
With loit'ring wave his groves of laurel feeds. "Tis ours, my son, to deal the sacred bay, Where honor calls, and justice points the way; To wear the well-earn'd wreath that merit brings, And snatch a gift beyond the reach of kings. Scorning and scorn'd by courts, yon Muse's bow'r Still nor enjoys nor seeks the smile of pow'r.
Though wakeful vengeance watch my crystal Tho' persecution wave her iron wing, spring, And o'er yon spiry temples as she flies,
Those destin'd feats be mine," exulting eries; Fortune's fair smiles on Isis still attend: And, as the dews of gracious heaven descend Unask'd unseen, in sull but copious show'rs, Her stores on me spontaneous bounty pours. See, Science walks with recent chaplets crown'd, With Fancy's strain my fairy shades resound; My Muse divine still keeps her custom'd state, The mien erect, and high majestic gait: Green as of old each oliv'd portal smiles, And still the graces build my Grecian piles: My gothic spires in antient glory rise, And dare with wonted pride to rush into the skies.
In vain the forest lent its stateliest pride, Rear'd her tall mast, and fram'd her knotty side; The martial thunder's rage in vain she flood, With ev'ry conflict of the stormy flood;
Than wars, or waves, or Eurus' wintry pow'r. Ye fretted pinnacles, ye fanes sublime, Ye tow'rs that wear the mossy vest of time! Ye massy piles fold munificence, At once the pride of learning and defence; Ye cloisters pale, that length'ning to the sight To contemplation, step by step, invite ; Ye high arch'd walks, where oft the whispers
Of harps unseen have swept the poet's ear; Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays Her holy hymns for ever-echoing praise; Lo! your lov'd Isis, from the bord'ring vale, With all a mother's fondness bids you hail! — Hail, Oxford, hail! of all that's good and great, Of all that 's fair, the guardian and the seat; Nurse of each brave pursuit, each gen'rous aim, By truth exalted to the throne of fame! Like Greece in science and in liberty, As Athens learn'd, as Lacedemon free!
Een late when Radcliffe's delegated train Auspicious shone in Isis' happy plain; [shrine, When you proud domne fair learning's amplest Beneath its attic roofs received the Nine; Was rapture mute, or ceas'd the glad acclaim,More sure the reptile's little arts devour To Radcliffe due, and Isis' honor'd name? What free-born crowds adorn'd the festive day,, Nor blush'd to wear my tributary bay! How each brave breast with honest ardors heav'd, When Shelton's fane the patriot band receiv'd; While, as we loudly hail'd the chosen few, Rome's awful senate rush'd upon the view! O may the day in latest annals shine, That made a Beaufort and au Harley mine; That bade them leave the loftier scene awhile, The pomp of guiltless state, the patriot toil, For bleeding Albion's aid the sage design, To hold short dalliance with the tuneful Nine! Then music left her silver sphere on high, And bore each strain of triumph from the sky; Swell'd the loud song, and to my chiefs around Pour'd the full peans of mellifluous sound. My Naiads blythe the dying accents caught, And listening danc'd beneath their pearly grot: In gentler eddies play'd my conscious wave, And all my reeds their softest whispers gave; Each lay with brighter green adorn'd my bow'rs, And breath'd a fresher fragrance on my flow'rs. But lo! at once the pealing concerts cease, And crowding theatres are hush'd in peace. See, on yon sage, how all attentive stand, To catch his parting eye, and waving hand. Hark! he begins with all a Tully's art, To pour the dictates of a Cato's heart. [spire, Skill'd to pronounce what noblest thoughts inHe blends the speaker's with the patriot's fire; Bold to conceive, nor tim'rous to conceal, What Britons dare to think he dares to tell. 'Tis his alike the car and eyes to charm, To win with action, and with sense to warm. Untaught in flow'ry periods to dispense The lulling sound of sweet impertinence : In frowns or smiles he gains an equal prize, Nor meanly fears to fall, nor creeps to rise; Bids happier days to Albion he restor'd, Bids antient justice rear her radiant sword; From me, as from my country, claims applause, And makes an Oxford's a Britannia's cause. While arms like these my stedfast sages wield, While mine is Truth's impenetrable shield; Say, shall the puny champion fondly dare To wage with force like this scholastic war? Still vainly scribble on with pert pretence, With all the rage of pedant impotence ? Say, shall I foster this domestic pest, This parricide, that wounds a mother's breast; Thus in some gallant ship that long has bore" Lo! these the leaders of thy patriot line," Britain's victorious cross from shore to shore, A Raleigh, Handen, and a Somers shine. By chance, beneath her close sequester'd cells These from thy source the bold contagion caught, Some low-born worm, a lurking mischief dwells; Their future sons the great example taught; Eats his blind way, and saps with secret guile While in each youth th' hereditary flame The deep foundations of the floating pile. Still blazes, unextinguish'd, and the same!
Ev'n now, confess'd to my adoring eyes, In awful ranks thy gifted sons arise. Tuning to knightly tale his British reeds, Thy genuine bards immortal Chaucer leads: His hoary head o'erlooks the gazing quire, And beans on all around celestial fire. With graceful step see Addison advance, The sweetest child of Attic elegance : See Chillingworth the depths of doubt explore, And Selden ope the rolls of antient lore: To all but his belov'd embrace deny'd, See Locke read Reason, his majestic bride: See Hammond pierce religion's golden mine, And spread the treasur'd stores of Truth divine.
All who to Albion gave the arts of peace, And best the labors plann'd of letter'd ease; Whotaught with truth,or with pursuasion mov'd, Whosooth'dwithnumbers,orwithsenseimprov'd, Who rang'd the power of reason, or refin'd All that adorn'd or huinaniz'd the mind; Each priest of health, that mix'd the balmy bowl, To rear frail man, and stay the flceting soul; All crowd around, and, echoing to the sky, Hail! Oxford, hail! with filial transport cry.
And see yon sapient train! with lib'ral aim, 'Twas theirs new plans of liberty to frame; And on the gothic gloom of slavish sway To shed the dawn of intellectual day. With mild debate each musing feature glows, And well-weigh'd counsels mark their meaning brows.
Nor all the tasks of thoughtful peace engage, "Tis thine to form the hero as the sage. I see the sable-suited prince advance With lilies crown'd, the spoils of bleeding France, Edward. The Muses in yon cloister's shade Bound on his maiden thigh the martial blade: Bade him the steel for British freedom draw; And Oxford taught the deeds that Cressy saw. And see, great father of the sacred band, The Patriot King before me seems to stand. He, by the bloom of this gay vale beguil'd, That cheer'd with lively green the shaggy wild, Hither of yore, forlorn forgotten maid, The Muse in prattling infancy convey'd; From Vandal rage the helpless virgin bore, And fix'd her cradle on my friendly shore: Soon grew the maid beneath his fost'ring hand, Soon stream'd her blessings o'er the enlighten'd, [dwell Though simple was the dome, where first to She deign'd, and rude her early Saxon cell, Lo! now she holds her state in sculptur'd bow'rs, And proudly lifts to Heaven her hundred tow'rs. "Twas Alfred first, with letters and with laws, Adorn'd, as he advanc'd, his country's cause: He bade relent the Briton's stubborn soul, And sooth'd to soft society's control A rough untutor'd age. With raptur'd eye Elate he views his laurel'd progeny: Serene he smiles to find, that not in vain He form'd the rudiments of learning's reign : Himself he marks in each ingenuous breast, With all the founder in the race express'd; Conscious he sees fair Fredom still survive In yon bright domes, ill-fated fugitive! (Glorious, as when the Goddess pour'd the Unsully'd on his antient diadem) [beam Well pleas'd, that at his own Pierian springs She rests her weary feet, and plumes her wings; That here at last she takes her destin'd stand, Here deigns to linger ere she leave the land.
At morn I take my custom'd round, To mark how buds yon shrubby niound, And ev'ry op'ning primrose count That trimly paints my blooming mount: Or o'er the sculptures, quaint and rude, That grace my gloomy solitude. I teach in winding wreaths to stray Fantastic ivy's gadding spray. At eve, within you studious nook, I ope my brass-embossed book, Portrayed with many a holy deed Of martyrs, crown'd with heavenly meed. Then, as my taper waxes dim, Chant, ere I sleep, my measur'd hymn; And, at the close, the gleams behold While such pure joys my bliss create. Of parting wings bedropt with gold. Who but would sniile at guilty state? Who but would wish his holy lot In calm Oblivion's humble grot? To take my staff and amice gray; Who but would cast his pomp away, And to the world's tumultuous stage Prefer the blameless hermitage?
§ 61. Monody, written near Stratford upon Avon. T. WARTON.
AVON, thy rural views, thy pastures wi wild, The willows that o'erhang thy twilight edge, Their boughs entangling with th embattled sedge;
Thy brink with wat'ry foliage quaintly fring'd, Thy surface with reflected verdure ting'd, Sooth me with many a pensive pleasure mild. But while I muse, that here the bard divine Whose sacred dustyon high arch'd aisles inelose, Where the tall windows rise in stately rows Here first, at Fancy's fairy circled shrine, Above th' embow'ring shade, Of daisies pied his infant off'ring made; Here playful yet, in stripling years unripe, Fram'd of thy reeds a shrill and artless pipe:
60. Inscription in a Hermitage, at Ansley-Sudden thy beauties, Avon, all are fled, Hall, in Warwickshire. T. WARTON.
BENEATH this stony roof reclin'd, I sooth to peace iny pensive mind: And while to shade my lowly cave, Embow'ring elms their umbrage wave ; And while the maple dish is mine, The beechen cup, unstain'd with wine; I scorn the gay licentious crowd, Nor heed the toys that deck the proud. Within my limits lone and still, The blackbird pipes in artless trill Fast by iny couch, congenial guest, The wren has wove her mossy nest; From busy scenes and brighter skies; To lurk with innocence, she flies; Here hopes in safe repose to dwell, Nor aught suspects the sylvan cell.
As at the waving of some magic wand; An holy trance my charmed spirit wings, And awful shape of warriors and of kings People the busy mead,
Like spectres swarming to the wizard's hall; And slowly pace, and point with trembling hand The wounds ill-cover'd by the purple pall. Before me Pity seems to stand
A weeping mourner, smote with anguish sore, To see Misfortune rend in frantic mood His robe with regal woes embroider'd o'er. Pale terror leads the visionary band, And sternly shakes his sceptre, drepping blood.
§ 62. On the Death of King George the Second. T. WARTON
So stream the sorrows that embalin the brave, The tears that science sheds on Glory's grave! * Alfred.
O Pitt, while honor points thy lib'ral plan, And o'er the Minister exalts the Man, Isis congenial greets thy faithful sway, Nor scorns to bid a statesman grace her lay. For 'tis not Hers, by false connexions drawn At splendid Slavery's sordid shrine to fawn; Fach native effort of the feeling breast To friends, to foes, in equal fear, supprest : "Tis not for her to purchase or pursue The phantom favors of the cringing crew: More useful toils her studious hours engage, And fairer lessons fill her spotless page : Beneath ambition, but above disgrace, With nobler arts she forms the rising race: With happier tasks, and less refin'd pretence, In elder times, she woo'd Munificence To rear her arched roofs in regal guise, And lift her temples nearer to the skies; Princes and prelates stretch'd the social hand To form, diffuse, and fix, her high command: From kings she claim'd, yet scorn'd to seek, the prize; [wise From kings, like George, benignant, just, and : Lo, this her genuine lore. Nor thou refuse This humble present of no partial Muse From that calm Bow'r*, which nurs'd thy thoughtful youth
So pure the vows which classic duty pays To bless another Brunswick's rising rays! O Pitt, if chosen strains have power to steal Thy watchful breast awhile from Britain's weal; If votive verse, from sacred Isis sent, Might hope to charm thy manly mind, intent On patriot plans, which antient freedom drew, Awhile with fond attention deign to view This ample wreath, which all th'assembled Nine With skill united have conspir'd to twine. Yes, guide and guardian of thy country's cause! Thy conscious heart shall hail with just applause The duteous Muse, whose haste officious brings Her blameless off ring to the shrine of kings: Thy tongue, well tutor'd in historic lore, Can speak her office and her use of yore : For such the tribute of ingenuous praise Her harp dispens'd in Grecia's golden days; Such were the palms, in isles of old renown, She cull'd, to deck the guiltless monarch's crown; When virtuous Pindar told, with Tuscan gore How scepter'd Hiero stain'd Sicilia's shore, Or to mild Theron's raptur'd eye disclos'd Bright vales, where spirits of the brave repos'd Yet still beneath the throne, unbrib'd, she sat The decent handmaid, not the slave, of state; Pleas'd in the radiance of the regal name To blend the lustre of her country's fame: For, taught like ours, she dar'd with prudent pride Obedience from dependence to divide ; Though princes claim'd her tributary lays, With truth severe she temper'd partial praise; Conscious she kept her native diguity, Bold as her flights, and as her numbers free. And sure if e'er the Muse indulg'd her strains, With just regard to grace heroic reigas, Where could her glance a theme of triumph own So dear to fame as George's trophy'd throne? At whose firm base thy stedfast soul aspires To wake a mighty nation's antient fires: Aspires to baffle Faction's specious claim, Rouse England's rage, and give her thunder aim Oncemorethemainherconqu'ringbanners sweep, Again her Commerce darkens all the deep. Thy fix'd resolve renews each firm decree That made, that kept of yore, thy country free. Call'd by thy voice, nor deaf to war's alarms, Its willing youth the rural empire arms: Again the lords of Albion's cultur'd plains March the firm leaders of their faithful swains; As erst stout archers, from the farm or fold, . Flam'd in the van of many a baron bold.
Nor thine the pomp of indolent debate, The war of words, the sophistries of state: Nor frigid caution checks thy free design, Nor stops thy stream of eloquence divine: For thine the privilege, on few bestow'd, To feel, to think, to speak, for public good In vain Corruption calls her venal tribes; • One common cause, one common end prescribes: Nor fear nor fraud or spares or screens the foe, But spirit prompts, and valor strikes the blow.
In the pure precepts of Athenian truth.: Where first the form of British Liberty Beain'd in full radiance on thy using eye; That form, whose mien sublime, with equal awe, In the same shade unblemish'd Somers saw: Where once (for well she lov'd the friendly grove Which ev'ry classic Grace had learn'd to rove) Her whispers wak'd sage Harrington to feign The blessings of her visionary reign; Thatreign, which now, no more an empty theme, Adorns Philosophy's ideal dream, But crowns at last, beneath a George's smile, In full reality this favor'd isle.
$63. On the Marriage of the King, MDCCLXI. to her Majesty. T. WARTON.
WHEN first the kingdom to thy virtues due Rose from the billowy deep in distant view; When Albion's isle, old Ocean's peerless pride, Tow'r'd in imperial state above the tide ; What bright ideas of the new domain Form'd the fair prospect of thy promis'd reign!
And well with conscious joy thy breast might That Albion was ordain'd thy regal scat: [beat Lo! this the land, where Freedom's sacred rage Has glow'd untam'd thro' many a martial age, Here patriot Alfred, stain'd with Danish blood, Rear'd on one base the king's, the people's good: Here Henry's archers fram'd the stubborn bow That laid Alanzon's haughty helmet low Here walk'd the flame, that still superior braves The proudest threats of Gaul's ambitious slaves: Here Chivalry, stern school of valor old, Her noblest feats of knightly fame enroll'd;
Trinity College, Oxford; in which also Lard Somers, and Sir James Harrington, author of the Oceana, were educated.
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