Man owns the power of kings; and kings of Jove.
And, as their actions tend subordinate 100
To what thy will designs, thou giv’st the means
Proportion’d to the work; thou seest impartial,
How they those means employ. Each monarch rules
His different realm, accountable to thee,
Great ruler of the world: these only have
To speak and be obey’d; to those are given
Assistant days to ripen the design;
To some whole months; revolving years to some;
Others, ill-fated, are condemn’d to toil
Their tedious life, and mourn their purpose blasted
With fruitless act, and impotence of council. 111
Hail! greatest son of Saturn, wise disposer
Of every good: thy praise what man yet born.
Has sung? or who that may be born shall sing?
Again, and often hail! indulge our prayer,
Great father! grant us virtue, grant us wealth:
For without virtue, wealth to man avails not;
And virtue without wealth exerts less power,
And less diffuses good. Then grant us, gracious,
Virtue and wealth; for both are of thy gift. 120
THE SECOND HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS.
TO APOLLO.
HAH! how the laurel, great Apollo’s tree,
And all the cavern shakes! far off, far
Tho man that is unhallow’d: for the god,
The god approaches. Hark! he knocks; the gates
Feel the glad impulse; and the sever’d bars
Submissive clink against their brazen portals.
Why do the Delian palms incline their boughs,
Self-mov’d: and hovering swans, their throats releas’d,
From native silence, carol sounds harmonious?
Begin, young men, the hymn: let all your harps
Break their inglorious silence; and the dance, 11
In mystic numbers trod, explain the music.
But first by ardent prayer, and clear lustration,
Purge the contagious spots of human weakness:
Impure no mortal can behold Apollo.
So may ye flourish, favour’d by the god,
In youth with happy nuptials, and in age
With silver hairs, and fair descent of children;
So lay foundations for aspiring cities,
And bless your spreading colonies’ increase. 20
Pay sacred reverence to Apollo’s song;
Lest wrathful the far-shooting god emit
His fatal arrows. Silent Nature stands; —
And seas subside, obedient to the sound
Of Io, Io Pean! nor dares Thetis
Longer bewail her lov’d Achilles’ death;
For Phœbus was his foe. Nor must sad Niobe
In fruitless sorrow persevere, or weep
E’en through the Phrygian marble. Hapless mother!
Whose fondness could compare her mortal offspring
To those which fair Latona bore to Jove. 31
Io! again repeat ye, Io Pean!
Against the deity ’tis hard to strive.
He that resists the power of Ptolemy,
Resists the power of heaven, for power from heaven
Derives; and monarchs rule by gods appointed.
Recite Apollo’s praise, till night draws on,
The ditty still unfinish’d; and the day
Unequal to the godhead’s attributes
Various, and matter copious of your songs. 40
Sublime at Jove’s right hand Apollo sits,
And thence distributes honour, gracious king,
And theme of verse perpetual. From his robe
Flows light ineffable: his harp, his quiver,
And Lictian bow are gold: with golden sandals
His feet are shod; how rich! how beautiful!
Beneath his steps the yellow mineral rises;
And earth reveals her treasures. Youth and beauty
Eternal deck his cheek; from his fair head 49
Perfumes distil their sweets; and cheerful health,
His duteous handmaid, through the air improv’d,
With lavish hand diffuses scents ambrosial.
The spear-man’s arm by thee, great God, directed,
Sends forth a certain wound. The laurel’d bard,
Inspir’d by thee, composes verse immortal.
Taught by thy art divine, the sage physician
Eludes the urn; and chains, or exiles death.
Thee, Nomian, we adore; for that from Heaven
Descending, thou on fair Amphrysus’ banks 59
Didst guard Admetus’s herds. Sithence the cow
Produc’d an ampler store of milk; the she-goat
Not without pain dragg’d her distended udder;
And ewes, that erst brought forth but single lambs,
Now dropp’d their twofold burthens. Blest the cattle,
On which Apollo cast his favouring eye!
But Phœbus, thou to man beneficent,
Delight’st in building cities. Bright Diana,
Kind sister to thy infant-deity,
New-wean’d, and just arising from the cradle,
Brought hunted wild goats’ heads, and branching antlers 70
Of stags, the fruit and honour of her toil.
These with discerning hand thou knew’st to range,
(Young as thou wast) and in the well-fram’d models,
With emblematic skill and mystic order,
Thou showd’st, where towers or battlements should rise;
Where gates should open; or where walls should compass;
While from thy childish pastime man received
The future strength and ornament of nations.
Battus, our great progenitor, now touch’d
The Libyan strand; when the foreboding crow 80
Flew on the right before the people, marking
The country, destin’d the auspicious seat
Of future kings, and favour of the god,
Whose oath is sure, and promise stands eternal.
Or Boedromian hear’st thou pleas’d, or Clarian,
Phœbus, great king? for different are thy names,
As thy kind hand has founded many cities,
Or dealt benign thy various gifts to man.
Carnean let me call thee! for my country
Calls thee Carnean! the fair colony 90
Thrice by thy gracious guidance was transported,
Ere settled in Cyrene; there w’ appointed
Thy annual feasts, kind god, and bless thy altars
Smoking with hecatombs of slaughter’d bulls;
As Carnus, thy high-priest and favour’d friend,
Had erst ordain’d; and with mysterious rites,
Our great forefathers taught their sons to worship.
Id Carnean Phœbus! Id Pean!
The yellow crocus there, and fair narcissus
Reserve the honours of their winter-store, 100
To deck thy temple; till returning spring
Diffuses nature’s various pride; and flowers
Innumerable, by the soft south-west
Open’d, and gather’d by religious hands,
Rebound their sweets from th’ odoriferous pavement.
Perpetual fires shine hallow’d on thy altars,
When annual the Carnean feast is held:
The warlike Libyans, clad in armour, lead
The dance, with clanging swords and shields they beat
The dreadful measure: in the chorus join 110
Their women, brown but beautiful: such rites
To thee well pleasing. Nor had yet thy votaries,
From Greece transplanted, touch’d Cyrene’s banks,
And lands determin’d for their last abodes;
But wander’d through Azilis’ horrid forest
Dispers’d; when from Myrtusa’s cr
aggy brow,
Fond of the maid, auspicious to the city,
Which must hereafter bear her favour’d name,
Thou gracious deign’st to let the fair one view
Her typic people; thou with pleasure taught’st her
To draw the bow, to slay the shaggy lion, 121
And stop the spreading ruin of the plains.
Happy the nymph, who honour’d by thy passion,
Was aided by thy power! the monstrous Python
Durst tempt thy wrath in vain: for dead he fell,
To thy great strength and golden arms unequal.
Io! while thy unerring hand elanc’d
Another, and another dart; the people
Joyful repeated Io! Io Pean!
Elance the dart, Apollo: for the safety 130
And health of man, gracious thy mother bore thee.
Envy, thy latest foe, suggested thus:
Like thee I am a power immortal; therefore
To thee dare speak. How canst thou favour partial
Those poets who write little? Vast and great
Is what I love: the far-extended ocean
To a small rivulet I prefer. Apollo
Spurn’d Envy with his foot; and thus the god:
Dæmon, the head-long current of Euphrates,
Assyrian river, copious runs, but muddy, 140
And carries forward with his stupid force
Polluting dirt; his torrent still augmenting,
His wave still more defil’d; meanwhile the nymphs
Melissan, sacred and recluse to Ceres,
Studious to have their offerings well receiv’d,
And fit for Heavenly use, from little urns
Pour streams select, and purity of waters.
Io! Apollo, mighty king, let Envy
Ill-judging and verbose, from Lethe’s lake
Draw tuns unmeasurable; while thy favour 150
Administers to my ambitious thirst
The wholesome draught from Aganippe’s spring
Genuine, and with soft murmurs gently rilling
Adown the mountains where thy daughters haunt.
CHARITY.
A PARAPHRASE ON THE THIRTEENTH
CHAPTER OF
THE FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS.
DID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing
Than ever man pronounc’d, or angel
Had I all-knowledge, human and divine,
That thought can reach, or science can define;
And had I power to give that knowledge birth,
In all the speeches of the babbling earth;
Did Shadrach’s zeal my glowing breast inspire,
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire;
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw
When Moses gave them miracles and law: 10
Yet gracious Charity, indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast,
Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer;
That scorn of life would be but wild despair;
A tymbal’s sound were better than my voice,
My faith were form, my eloquence were noise.
Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,
Softens the high, and rears the abject mind;
Knows with just reins, and gentle hand to guide,
Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride. 20
Not soon provok’d, she easily forgives;
And much she suffers, as she much believes,
Soft peace she brings, wherever she arrives:
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives:
Lays the rough paths of peevish Nature even;
And opens in each heart a little Heaven.
Each other gift, which God on man bestows,
Its proper bounds, and due restriction knows;
To one fixt purpose dedicates its power;
And, finishing its act, exists no more. 30
Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees,
Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease;
But lasting Charity’s more ample sway,
Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph shall for ever live,
And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive.
As through the artist’s intervening glass
Our eye observes the distant planets pass;
A little we discover; but allow,
That more remains unseen, than art can show: 40
So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve,
(Its feeble eye intent on things above)
High as we may, we lift our reason up,
By Faith directed, and confirm’d by Hope:
Yet are we able only to survey
Dawnings of beams, and promises of day.
Heaven’s fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight;
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light.
But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell’d;
The sun shall soon be face to face beheld, 50
In all his robes with all his glory on,
Seated sublime on his meridian throne.
Then constant faith, and holy hope shall die,
One lost in certainty, and one in joy:
Whilst thou, more happy power, fair Charity,
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three,
Thy office, and thy nature still the same,
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsum’d thy flame,
Shalt still survive —— —
Shalt stand before the host of Heaven confest, 60
For ever blessing, for ever blest.
ENGRAVEN ON A COLUMN IN THE CHURCH OF HALSTEAD IN ESSEX.
THE SPIKE OF WHICH, BURNT DOWN
BY LIGHTNING, WAS REBUILT AT THE EXPENSE OF
MR. SAMUEL FISKE, MDCCXVII.
VIEW not this spire by measure given
To buildings rais’d by common hands:
That fabric rises high as Heaven,
Whose basis on devotion stands.
While yet we draw this vital breath,
We can our Faith and Hope declare:
Will ever in our works appear.
Best be he call’d among good men,
Who to his God this column rais’d: 10
Though lightning strike the dome again,
The man, who built it, shall be prais’d.
Yet spires and towers in dust shall lie,
The weak efforts of human pains;
And Faith and Hope themselves shall die;
While deathless Charity remains.
WRITTEN IN MONTAIGNE’S ESSAYS.
GIVEN TO THE DUKE OF SHREWSBURY IN FRANCE,
AFTER THE PEACE, MDCCXIII.
DICTATE, O mighty judge, what thou hast seen
Of cities, and of courts, of books, and men;
And deign to let thy servant hold the pen.
Through ages thus I might presume to live,
And from the transcript of thy prose receive
What my own short-liv’d verse can never give.
Thus shall fair Britain with a gracious smile
Accept the work; and the instructed isle,
For more than treaties made, shall bless my toil.
Nor longer hence the Gallic style preferr’d, 10
Wisdom in English idiom shall be heard,
While Talbot tells the world, where Montaigne err’d.
AN EPISTLE, DESIRING THE QUEEN’S PICTURE.
WRITTEN AT PARIS, MDCCXIV. BUT LEFT UNFINISHED,
BY THE SUDDEN NEWS OF HER MAJESTY’S DEATH.
THE train of equipage and pomp of state,
The shining sideboard, and the burnish’d plate,
Let other ministers, great Anne, require,
And partial fall thy gift to their desire.
To the fair portrait of my sovereign dame,
To that alone eternal be my claim.
My br
ight defender, and my dread delight,
If ever I found favour in thy sight;
If all the pains that for thy Britain’s sake
My past has took, or future life may take, 10
Be grateful to my Queen; permit my prayer,
And with this gift reward my total care.
Will thy indulgent hand, fair saint, allow
The boon? and will thy ear accept the vow?
That in despite of age, of impious flame,
And eating Time, thy picture like thy fame
Entire may last; that as their eyes survey
The semblant shade, men yet unborn may say,
Thus great, thus gracious look’d Britannia’s Queen;
Her brow thus smooth, her look was thus serene;
When to a low, but to a loyal hand 21
The mighty empress gave her high command,
That he to hostile camps and kings should haste,
To speak her vengeance, as their danger, past;
To say, she wills detested wars to cease;
She checks her conquest, for her subjects’ ease,
And bids the world attend her terms of peace.
Thee, gracious Anne, thee present I adore,
Thee, queen of peace — If time and fate have power
Higher to raise the glories of thy reign, 30
In words sublimer, and a nobler strain,
May future bards the mighty theme rehearse,
Here, Stator Jove, and Phoebus king of verse,
The votive tablet I suspend * * * *
ALMA; OR, THE PROGRESS OF THE MIND.
IN THREE CANTOS.
CANTO I.
Matthew met Richard, when or where
From story is not mighty clear:
Of many knotty points they spoke,
And pro and con by turns they took:
Rats half the manuscript have ate;
Dire hunger! which we still regret;
O! may they ne’er again digest
The horrors of so sad a feast;
Yet less our grief, if what remains,
Dear Jacob, by thy care and pains
Shall be to future times convey’d:
It thus begins:
* * * * Here Matthew said,
Alma in verse, in prose, the mind,
By Aristotle’s pen defined,
Throughout the body squat or tall,
Is bona fide, all in all;