There wanted one, who licenfe could restrain,
Make civil laws o'er barbarous usage reign:
One worthy in Apollo's chair to fit,
To hold the fcales, and give the stamp of wit;
In whom ripe judgment and young fancy meet;
And force poetic rage to be difcreet;

Who grows not naufeous while he strives to please,
But marks the fhelves in the poetic feas.

Who knows, and teaches what our clime can

bear,

And makes the barren ground obey the labourer's

care.

Few could conceive, none the great work could do,

'Tis a fresh province, and referv'd for you.
Thofe talents all are yours, of which but one
Were a fair fortune for a Mufe's fon.

Wit, reading, judgment, conversation, art,
A head well-balanc'd, and a generous heart.
While infect rhymes cloud the polluted fky,
Created to moleft the world, and die.
Your file does polish what your fancy caft;
Works are long forming which must always laft.
Rough iron fenfe, and stubborn to the mold,
Touch'd by your chemic hand, is turn'd to gold,
A fecret grace fashions the flowing lines,
And infpiration through the labour shines,
Writers, in fpight of all their paint and art,
Betray the darling paflion of their heart.
No fame you wound, give no chafte ears offence,
Still true to friendship, modeity, and sense.
So Saints, from Heaven for our example fent,
Live to their rules, have nothing to repent.
Horace, if living, by exchange of fate,
Would give no laws, but only yours tranflate.

Hoift fail, bold writers, fearch, difcover far,
You have a compass for a Polar-star.
Tune Orpheus' harp, and with enchanting rhymes
Soften the favage humour of the times.

Tell all thofe untouch'd wonders which appear'd
When Fate itself for our great Monarch fear'd;
Securely through the dangerous foreft led

By guards of Angels, when his own were fled.
Heaven kindly exercis'd his youth with cares,
To crown with unmix'd joys his riper years.
Make warlike James's peaceful virtues known,
The second hope and genius of the throne.
Heaven in compaflion brought him on our stage,
To tame the fury of a monstrous age.
But what bleft voice fhall your Maria fing?
Or a fit offering to her altars bring?
In joys, in grief, in triumphs, in retreat,
Great always, without aiming to be great.
True Roman majesty adorns her face;
And every gesture 's form'd by every Grace.
Her beauties are too heavenly and refin'd
For the grofs fenfes of a vulgar mind.
It is your part (you Poets can divine)
To prophefy how the by Heaven's defign
Shall give an heir to the great British line,
Who over all the Western ifles shall reign,
Both awe the continent, and rule the main.
It is your place to wait upon her name
Through the vast regions of eternal fame.

३

grace,

The honour and the praife is juftly due
To you alone, illuftrions Earl! to you.
For foon as Horace, with his artful page,
By thee explain'd, had taught the listening age;
Of brightest Bards arose a skilful train,
Who fweetly fung in their immortal strain.
No more content great Maro's steps to trace,
New paths we fearch, and tread unbeaten ways.
Ye Britons, then, triumphantly rejoice;
And with loud peals, and one confenting voice,
Applaud the man who does unrival'd fit,
"The fovereign-judge and arbiter of wit!”

For, led by thee, an endless train shall rife
Of Poets, who fhall climb fuperior fkies;
Heroes and Gods in worthy verfe fhall fing,
| And tune to Homer's lay the lofty string.

Thy works too, fovereign Bardt! if right I fee,
They shall translate with equal majesty;
While with new joy thy happy fhade thall rove
Through the bleft mazes of th' Elysian grove,
And, wondering, in Britannia's rougher tongue
To find thy heroes and thy fhepherds fung,
Shall break forth in thefe words: "Thy favour'd

name,

Great heir and guardian of the Mantuan fame!
How fhall my willing gratitude pursue
With praifes large as to thy worth are due?
Though taftelefs Bards, by Nature never taught,
In wretched rhymes difguife my genuine thought
Though Homer now the wars of godlike Kings
In Ovid's foft enervate numbers fings:
Tuneful Silenus, and the matchless verse
That does the birth of infant worlds rehearse,
Atones for all, by that my rescued fame
Shall vie in age with Nature's deathless frame;
By thee the learned fong fhall nobly live,
And praise from every British tongue receive.
Give to thy daring genius then the rein,
And freely launch into a bolder strain;

See Mifcellany Poems, 1780, vol. III. p. 173. + Virgil. H. N.

Nor with thefe word my happy fpirit grieve:
• The last good office of thy friend receive.'
On the firm bafe of thy immortal lays,
A nobler pile to thy lov'd Maro raife;
My glory by thy skill fhall brighter fhine,
With native charms and energy divine!
Britain with juft applause the work shall read,
And crown with fadeless bays thy facred head.
Nor fhall thy Mufe the graver's pencil need,
To draw the hero on his prancing steed;
Thy living verfe fhall paint th' imbattled hoft
In bolder figures than his art can boast.
While the low tribe of vulgar writers strive,
By mean falfe arts to make their versions live;
Forfake the text, and blend each fterling line
With comments foreign to my true defign;
My latent fenfe thy happier thought explares,
And injur'd Maro to himfelf restores."

Mountains, who to your Maker's view Seem less than mole-hills do to you, Remember how, when firft Jehovah spoke, All heaven was fire, and Sinai hid in fmoke.

Praise him sweet offspring of the ground,
With heavenly nectar yearly crown'd;
And ye tall cedars, celebrate his praife,
That in his temple facred altars raife.

Idle musicians of the spring,
Whofe only care's to love and fing,
Fly through the world, and let your trembling

throat

Praise your Creator with the fweetcft note.

Praise him each favage furious beast,
That on his ftores do daily feaft:
And you tame flaves of the laborious plow,
Your weary knees to your Creator bow.

Majestic monarchs, mortal gods,
Whofe power hath here no periods,
May all attempts against your crowns be vain!
But ftill remember by whofe power you reign.

Let the wide world his praifes fing, Where Tagus and Euphrates fpring, And from the Danube's frosty banks, to those Where from an unknown head great Nilus flows.

You that difpofe of all our lives,

Praife him from whom your power derives; Be true and just like him, and fear his word, As much as malefactors do your sword.

Praise him, old monuments of time; O praise him in your youthful prime; Praife him, fair idols of our greedy fenfe; Exalt his name, fweet age of innocence.

Jehovah's name fhall only laft,

When heaven, and earth, and all is paft: Nothing, great God, is to be found in thee, But unconceivable eternity.

Exalt, O Jacob's facred race,

The God of gods, the God of grace;

Lord Rofcommon's Effay. H. N.

And with his glory recompenfe your praise.

A PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN TO

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF

F

YORK,

AT EDINBURGH.

OLLY and vice are cafy to defcribe,

The common fubjects of our fcribbling tribe;
But when true virtues, with unclouded light,
All great, all royal, fhine divinely bright,
Our eyes are dazzled, and our voice is weak;
Let England, Flanders, let all Europe speak,
Let France acknowledge that her fhaken throne
Was once fupported, Sir, by you alone;
Banifh'd from thence for an ufurper's fake,
Yet trusted then with her laft defperate stake:
When wealthy neighbours ftrove with us for power,
Let the fea tell, how in their fatal hour,
Swift as an eagle, our victorious prince,
Great Britain's genius, flew to her defence;
His name ftruck fear, his conduct won the day,
He came, he faw, he feiz'd the struggling prey,
And while the heavens were fire and th' ocean
blood,

Confirm'd our empire o'er the conquer'd flood.
O happy islands, if you knew your blifs!
Strong by the fea's protection, fafe by his!
Exprefs your gratitude the only way,
And humbly own a debt too vast to pay :
Let Fame aloud to future ages tell,
None e'er commanded, none obey'd fo well;
While this high courage, this undaunted mind,
So loyal, fo fubmiflively refign'd,
Proclaim that fuch a hero never fprings
But from the uncorrupted blood of kings.

VIRGIL'S SIXTH ECLOGUE,

SIL EN U S.

THE ARGUMENT.

Two young feepherds, Chromis and Mnafylus, having been often promifed a fong by Silenus, chance to catch bim afleep in this Eclogue; where they bind bim band and foot, and then claim his promife. Silenus, finding they would be put off no longer, begins bis fong, in which be defcribes the formation of the universe, and the original of animals, according to the Epicurean philofophy; and then runs through the moft furprifing transformations which have happened in Nature fince ber birth. This Eclogue was defigned as a compliment to Syro the Epicurean, who inftructed Virgil and Varus in the principles of that philofophy. Silenus acts as tutor, Chromis and Mnofylus as the two pupils.

I

First of Romans ftoop'd to rural strains,

Nor blufh'd to dwell among Sicilian fwains, When my Thalia rais'd her bolder voice, And kings and battles were her lofty choice, Phœbus did kindly humbler thoughts infufe, And with this whisper check th' afpiring Mufe: A fhepherd, Tityrus, his flocks fhould feed, And choose a fubje& fuited to his reed. Thus I (while each ambitious pen prepares To write thy praifes, Varus, and thy wars) My paftoral tribute in low numbers pay, And though I once prefum'd, I only now obey. But yet (if any with indulgent eyes Can look on this, and fuch a trifle prize) Thee only, Varus, our glad fwains thall fing, And every grove and every echo ring. Phœbus delights in Varus' favourite name, And none who under that protection came Was ever ill receiv'd, or unfecure of fame. Froceed my Muse.

}

Young Chromis and Mnafylus chanc'd to stray
Where (fleeping in a cave) Silenus lay,
Whofe conftant cups fly fuming to his brain,
And always boil in each extended vein;
His trusty flaggon, full of potent juice,
Was hanging by, worn thin with age and ufe;
Drop'd from his head, a wreath lay on the ground;
In hafte they feiz'd him, and in hafte they bound;
Eager, for both had been deluded long
With fruitless hope of his inftructive song:
But while with confcious fear they doubtful stood,
Egle, the faireft Naïs of the flood,
With a vermilion dye his temples ftain'd.
Waking, he fmil'd, and must I then be chain'd?
Loofe me, he cry'd; 'twas boldly done, to find
And view a God, but 'tis too bold to bind.
The promis'd verfe no longer I'll delay
(She fhall be fatisfy'd another way).

With that he rais'd his tuneful voice aloud, The knotty oaks their liftening branches bow'd, And favage beafts and Sylvan Gods did crowd;

For lo! he fung the world's ftupendous birth, How featter'd feeds of fea, and air, and earth,

4 [E]

}

And purer fire, through univerfal night
And empty space, did fruitfully unite;
From whence th' innumerable race of things,
By circular fucceffive order fprings.

By what degrees this earth's compacted sphere
Was harden'd, woods and rocks and towns to bear;
How finking waters (the firm land to drain)
Fill'd the capacious deep, and form'd the main,
While from above, adorn'd with radiant light,
A new-born fun furpris'd the dazzled fight;
How vapours turn'd to clouds obfcure the sky,
And clouds diffolv'd the thirsty ground fupply;
How the first foreft rais'd its fhady head,
Till when, few wandering beats on unknown
mountains fed.

Then Pyrrha's ftony race rofe from the ground, Old Saturn reign'd with golden plenty crown'd, And bold Prometheus (whofe untam'd defire Rival'd the fun with his own heavenly fire) Now doom'd the Scythian vulture's endless prey, Severely pays for animating clay.

He nam'd the nymph (for who but Gods could tell?)

Into whofe arms the lovely Hylas fell;
Alcides wept in vain for Hylas loft,

Hylas in vain refounds through all the coaft.
He with compaflion told Pafiphaë's fault,

Ah! wretched queen! whence came that guilty

thought?

The maids of Argos, who with frantic cries
And imitated lowings fill the fkies,

(Though metamorphos'd in their wild conceit)

Did never burn with fuch unnatural heat.

Ah! wretched queen! while you on mountains

grove;

Perhaps fome footsteps printed in the clay,
Will to my love direct your wandering way;
Perhaps, while thus in fearch of him I roam,
My happier rivals have entic'd him home.

He fung how Atalanta was betray'd
By thofe Hefperian baits her lover laid,
And the fad fifters who to trees were turn'd,
While with the world th' ambitious brother burn'd.
All he defcrib'd was prefent to their eyes,

And as he rais'd his verfe, the poplars feem'd to rife.

He taught which Mufe did by Apollo's will Guide wandering Gallus to th' Aonian hill: (Which place the God for folenin meetings chofe) With deep refpe&t the learned fenate rofe, And Linus thus (deputed by the reft) The hero's welcome, and their thanks, prefs'd:

cx

This harp of old to Hefiod did belong, To this, the Mufes' gift, join thy harmonious fong:

Charm'd by thefe ftrings, trees ftarting from the ground,

Have follow'd with delight the powerful found.
Thus confecrated, thy Grynæan grove
Shall have no equal in Apollo's love.

Why should I fpeak of the Megarian maid,
For love perfidious, and by love betray'd?
And her, who round with barking monsters arm'd,
The wandering Greeks (ah frighted men)
alarm'd;

Whofe only hope on fhatter'd fhips depends,
While fierce fea-dogs devour the mangled friends.
Or tell the Thracian tyrant's alter'd shape,
And dire revenge of Philomela's rape,
Who to those woods directs her mournful course,
Where she had suffer'd by incestuous force,
While, loth to leave the palace too well known,
Progué flies, hovering round, and thinks it ftill
her own?

Whatever near Eurota's happy ftream
With laurels crown'd, had been Apollo's theme,
Silenus fings; the neighbouring rocks reply,
And fend his myftic numbers through the sky;
Till night began to spread her gloomy veil,
And call'd the counted fheep from every dale;
The weaker light unwillingly declin'd,
And to prevailing fhades the murmuring world
refign'd.

O D E

UPON

SOLITUDE.

I.

[AIL, facred Solitude! from this calm bay,

Hview the world's tempestuous fea,

And with wife pride defpife

All thofe fenfeless vanities: With pity mov'd for others, caft away On rocks of hopes and fears, I fee them tofs'd On rocks of folly, and of vice, I see them loft: Some the prevailing malice of the great,

Unhappy men or adverse Fate,

Sunk deep into the gulphs of an afflicted state.
But more, far more, a numberless prodigious train,
Whilft Virtue courts them, but alas in vain,

Fly from her kind embracing arms, Deaf to her fondeft call, blind to her greatest charms,

And, funk in pleasures and in brutish ease, They in their fhipwreck'd ftate themselves obdurate please.

II.

Hail, facred Solitude! foul of my foul,
It is by thee I truly live,

Thou doft a better life and nobler vigour give;
Doft each unruly appetite controul:
Thy conftast quiet fills my peaceful breast,
With unmix'd joy, uninterrupted reft.
Prefuming love does ne'er invade
This private folitary shade:
And, with fantastic wounds by beauty made,