While Pindus' lofty heights our Poet sought, (His ravish'd mind with vast ideas fraught) Our language fail'd beneath his rising thought. This checks not his attempt; for Maro's mines He drains of all their gold t' adorn his lines, Through each of which the Mantuan Genius shines, The rock obey'd the pow'rful Hebrew guide, Her flinty breast dissolv'd into a tide:
Thus on our stubborn language he prevails, And makes the Helicon in which he sails;
The dialect, as well as sense, invents,
And with his poem, a new speech presents.
Hail, then, thou matchless Bard, thou great Unknown, That give your country fame, yet shun your own! In vain; for ev'rywhere your praise you find, And, not to meet it, you must shun mankind. Your loyal theme each loyal reader draws,
And e'en the factious give your verse applause,
Whose lightning strikes to ground their idol cause: The cause, for whose dear sake they drank a flood Of civil gore, nor spar'd the Royal blood; The cause, whose growth to crush, our prelates wrote
In vain, almost in vain our heroes fought; Yet by one stab of your keen satire dies; before your sacred lines their shatter'd Dagon lies.
Oh! if unworthy we appear to know The sire to whom this lovely birth we owe;
Deny'd our ready homage to express, And can at best but thankful be by guess; This hope remains; may David's Godlike mind, 35 (For him 'twas wrote) the unknown Author find; And, having found, show'r equal favours down
On wit so vast, as could oblige a crown.
UPON THE AUTHOR OF THE MEDAL,
ONCE more our awful Poet arms t' engage The threat'ning hydra-faction of the age; Once more prepares his dreadful pen to wield, And ev'ry muse attends him to the field. By Art and Nature for this task design'd, Yet modestly the fight he long declin'd;
Forbore the torrent of his verse to pour, Nor loos'd his satire 'till the needful hour. His Sov'reign's right, by patience half betray'd,
Wak'd his avenging genius to his aid.
Blest Muse, whose wit with such a cause was crown'd And blest the cause that such a champion found!
With chosen verse upon the foe he falls, And black Sedition in each quarter galls; Yet, like a prince with subjects forc'd t' engage. 15
Secure of conquest he rebates his rage;
His fury not without distinction sheds, Hurls mortal bolts, but on devoted heads; To less infected members gentle found, Or spares, or else pours balm into the wound. Such gen'rous grace th' ingrateful tribe abuse, And trespass on the mercy of his muse: Their wretched dogrel rhymers forth they bring, To snarl and bark against the poet's king; A crew that scandalize the nation more
Than all their treason-canting priests before. On these he scarce vouchsafes a scornful smile, But on their powerful patrons turns his style:
A style so keen as e'en from faction draws
The vital poison, stabbs to th' heart their cause. Take then, great Bard! what tribute we can raise; Accept our thanks, for you transcend our praise.
AND OF ABSALOM AND ACHITHOPHEL.
THUS pious Ignorance, with dubious praise, Altars of old to gods unknown did raise: They knew not the lov'd Deity; they knew Divine effects a cause divine did shew;
Nor can we doubt, when such these numbers are, Such is their cause, tho' the worst muse shall dare Their sacred worth in humble verse declare.
As gentle Thames, charm'd with thy tuneful song, Glides in a peaceful majesty along, No rebel stone, no lofty bank does brave The easy passage of his silent wave; So, sacred Poet! so thy numbers flow, Sinewy, yet mild as happy lovers wooe, Strong, yet harmonious too as planets move, Yet soft as down upon the wings of Love.
How sweet does virtue in your dress appear; How much more charming, when much less severe ?
Whilst you our senses harmlessly beguile,
With all th' allurements of your happy style;
Y' insinuate loyalty with kind deceit,
And into sense th' unthinking many cheat. So the sweet Thracian, with his charming lyre,
Into rude nature virtue did inspire;
So he the savage herd to reason drew,
Yet scarce so sweet, so charmingly, as you. O that you would, with some such powerful charm,
Enervate Albion to just value warm!
Whether much-suffering Charles shall theme afford, Or the great deeds of godlike James's sword. Again fair Gallia might be ours again,
Another fleet might pass the subject main,
Another Edward lead the Britons on, Or such an Ossory as you did moan; While in such numbers you, in such a strain, Inflame their courage, and reward their pain. Let false Achithophel the rout engage,
Talk easy Absalom to rebel rage ; Let frugal Shimei curse in holy zeal, Or modest Corah more new plots reveal; Whilst constant to himself, secure of Fate, Good David still maintains the royal state. Though each in vain such various ills employs, Firmly he stands, and e'en those ills enjoys; Firm as fair Albion, 'midst the raging main, Surveys encircling danger with disdain. In vain the waves assault the unmov'd shore, In vain the winds with mingled fury roar, [fore. FairAlbion's beauteous cliffs shine whiter than be.
Nor shalt thou move, tho' Hell thy fall conspire, Tho' the worse rage of Zeal's fanatic fire; Thou best, thou greatest, of the British race, Thou only fit to fill great Charles's place.
Ah wretched Britons! ah too stubborn isle! Ah stiff-neck'd Israel on blest Canaan's soil! Are those dear proofs of Heav'n's indulgence vain, Restoring David and his gentle reign ? Is it in vain thou all the goods dost know, Auspicious stars on mortals shed below, [neyflow? While all thy streams with milk, thy lands with ho-
« VorigeDoorgaan » |