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VERSES OCCASIONED BY
their Halifax in you.
Next to the godlike praise of writing well,
Is on that praise with just delight to dwell.
That I might imitáte, as well as praise ;
For all commend : ey'n foes your fame confess;
But for the want of so compleat a fong.
A golden period shall from you commence : FROM man's too curious and impatient fight, Peace shall be sign d 'twixt wit and manly sense ;
view, Credit grey hairs : thoughi freedom much we boalt,
Like him succeed! nor think my zeal is shown Some least perform, what they determine moft,
For you ; 'tis Britain's interest, not your ownr. What ludden changes our resolves betray?
For lofty stations are but golden snares, 'To-morrow is a satire on to-day,
Which tempt the great to fall in lore with cares. And Mews its weakness. Whom shall men be
I would proceed, but age has chill'd my vein, When constantly themselves, themselves deceive. 'Twas a short fever, and I'm cool again.
Though life I hate, methinks I could renew
Its tasteless, painful course, to sing of you.
Then such the subject, who Mall curb his fight? How Tweet your verse ! how great your force of When such your genius, who shall dare to write? mind !
In pure respect, 1 give my rhyming o'er, What power of words ! what skill in dark man- | And, to commend you most, conimend no more.
kind ! Polite the conduct; generous the design;
Adieu, whoe'er thou art ! on death's pale coast And beauty files, and strength sustains, each line. Ere long I'll talk thee o'er with Diyden's ghost; Thus Mars and Venus are, once more, beset , The bard will smile. A last, a long farewell! Your wit has caught them in its golden net. Henceforth I hide me in my dusky cell;
There wait the friendly stroke that lets me free, But what strikes home with most exalted grace
And think of immortality and theeza Is, haughty genius taught to know its place; My strains are number'd by the tuneful Nine; And, where worth shines, its humbled crest to Each maid presents her thanks, and all preient
thee mine. bend, With zeal devoted to that godlike end. When we difcern to rich a vein of sense, Through the finooth flow of pures: eloquence; 'Tis like the limpid streams of Tagus roll'd
VERSES SENT BY LORD MELCOMBE TO O'er boundless wealth, o'er shining beds of gold.
DOCTOR YOUNG. But whence fo finish’d, so refin’d a piece ? The tongue denies it to old Rome and Greece ; NOT LONG BEFORE IIIS LORDSUIr's DEATH. The Genius bids the moderns doubt their claim, And slowly take pofleffion of the fame, But I nor know, nor care by whom 'twas writ, Enough for me that 'tis from human wit,
Lov'd for genius, worth, and truth!
Take what friendship can impart, •That sooths my pride : all glory in the pen Which has done honor to the race of men.
Tribute of a feeling heart;
But this have others done; a like applause An ancient and a * modern Horace draws,
* " A Poetical Epifle from the late Lord Vel“ combe to the Earl of Bute, with corrtábions by ile « Author of the Night Tlouglots," was publijked in 40. 1776.
Take the Muse's latest spark",
Wbe kindly couch'd thy.cenfure's eye,
And gove thee clearly to descry
W be half inclin'd thee to confess,
Nor could thy modefiy do less,
The present, in oblivion cast,
Full foon shall sleep, as fleeps the past;
The frowns and favours of the great ;
High flush'd success, and pale slefcat ;
Ye wing'd, ye rapid moments! stay :
Oh friend! as deaf as rapid, they ;
Dost thou not hear it? I can hear,
Though nothing lirikes the listening ears Time groans his last! Lternal loudly calls !
TO MR. VOLTAIRE.
But where 's his dolphin? Know's thou, THE BRITISH SAILOR'S EXULTATION.
N lofty sounds let those delight
And, bold in word, of arms decline the stroke : So patroniz'd, are rescued from the grave.
"Tis mean to boast ; but great to lend
To foes the counfel of a friend, “Tell me, say'st thou, who courts my smile? And warn them of the vengeance they provoke.
“ What stranger stray'd from yonder ille ! No stranger, Sir! though born in foreign climes;
From whence arise these loud alarms ?
Why gleams the south with brandim'd arms ?
War, bath'd in blood, from curft anbition Thy rage provok’d, who footh’d with gentle
springs : rhynes ?
Ambition ! mean, ignoble pride! * See Mr. Caft's Life of Young.
Perhaps their ardoors
fubfide, * Annals of the Emperor Charles XII. Lewis XIV. When wciglı’d the wonders Britain's failor fings,
From the dread front of antiert war
Less terror frown'd; her scythed car.
Stoop to those engines which deny Spread canvass-wings, aud fly through storms, Superior terror to the sky, And ride o'er rocks, and dance on foaming waves. And boast their clouds, their thunder, and their
The flame, the thunder, and the cloud, In smoaising rivers runs her molten ore;
The night by day, the sea of blood,
Hosts whirl'd in air, the yell of sinking throngs,
The gravelers dead, an ocean warm’d, Flame from the deck, from trembling bastions A firmament by mortals Norm’d,
To patient Britain's angry brow belongs.
Or do I dream? Or do I rave ?
Or fee I Vulcan's footy cave,
Those swarthy gods of toil and beat,
Loud peals on mountain anvils heat,
And panting tempests rouze the roaring fame. When brav'd Britannia's awful fenate lowers.
Ye fons of toa! hear my call;
Unfinish'd let those baubles fall,
Yon shield of Márs, Minerva's helmet blue : Ofinfolent attempts, a warm disdain ;
Your strokes fufpend, ye brawny throng!
Charm'd by the magic of my song,
Drop the feign'd thunder, and attempt the true.
and firfi take rapid flight,
Fierce flame, and clouds of thickest night,
And ghastly terror, paler than the dead;
Then borrow from the north his roar,
Mix groans and deaths; one phial pour
Of wrong'd Britannia's wrath ; and it is made; They ihunder from resounding seas,
Gaul starts and trembles-at your dreadful trade. Touch'd by their injur'd master's soul of fire.
And rends the skies! and warms the waves!
ODE THE SECOND:
While all-lerene, and hund above,
THE SAILOR'S PRAYER BEFORE
O form'd the bolt, ordain'd to break
If Britain's crimes support not Britain's foes, Sweep, iv olack whirlwinds, 'nen and malts;
And edge their swords : O power divine! And leave fing'd, naked, blood-drown'd, decks
If blert by Thee the bold design, behind.
Embattled hosts a single arm o’erthrows.
Ye warlike dead, who fell of old
In Britain's cause, by fame enroll'd There war's whole sting is shot, whole fire is
In deathless annal! deathless deeds inspire ; spent, Whole glory bloonis : how pale, how tame,
From oozy beds, for Britain's fake,
Awake, illustrious chiefs ;. awake;
And kindle in your fons paternal fire.
IN WHICH IS
“ Thou, who hast taught the north to roar, Our worth to weigh, our hearts to prove, “ And Itreaming f lights nocturnal pour If war's full shock 00 feeble to sustain ;
“ Of frightful aspect! when proud foes invade, m to stand its final blow,
“ Their blafted pride with dread to seize, When vital streams of blood shall flow,
“ Bid Britain's fags, as meteors, blaze; And turn to crimson the discolour'd main ; "And George depute to thunder in thy Itead.
“ The right alone is bold and strong;
“ Black, hovering clouds appal the wrong " Qur guide in counsel, and our strength in With dread of vengeance : nature's awful Giro! fight!
« Less than one moment should Thou frown “ Now war's important die is thrown,
“ Where is puissance and renown? “ If left the day to man alone,
“ Thrones tremble, empires link, or worlds exF? How blind is wisdom, and how weak is might !
XIII. « Let prostrate hearts, and awful fear,
“ Let George the just chastise the vain : “ And deep remorse, ant lighs sincere
“ Thou, who durft curb the rebel main, • For Britain's guilt, the wrath divine appease ; “ To mount the shore when boiling billows rave! “ A wrath, more formidable far
“ Bid George repel a bolder tide, “ Than angry nature's wasteful war,
“ The boundless (well of Gallic pride; 6. The whirl of tempefts, and the roar of feas, And check ambition's overwhelming wave.
“ And when (all milder means withllood) - To thee, at nature's helm on high !
“ Ambition, tain'd by lofs of blood, “ Steer thou our conduct, dread Omnipotence ! " Regains her reason; then, on angels wings, “ To thee for succour we resort;
“Let peace descend, and shouting greet, 6. Thy favour is our only port;
“With peals of joy, Britannia's feet, Our only rock of safety, thy defence,
“ How richly freighted! It, triumphant, brings VII,
“ The poife of kingdoms, and the fate of 6. O thou, to whom the lions raar,
“ kings." “ And, not unheard, thy boon implore ! ( Thy throne our bursts of cannon loud invoke : Thou canit arreft the flying ball;
IMPERIUM PELAGI, " Or send it back and bid it fall " On those, from whose proud deck the thunder « broke
N A V A L L Y RICK: VIII, « Britain in vaill extends her care
WRITTEN IN IMITATION OF • To'climes * remote, for aids in war; * $uill farther must it stretch to crush the foe;
PINDAR'S SPIRIT, « There's one alliance, one alone,
“ Can crown her arms, or fix her throne ; « And that alliance is not found below,
PREFACE, 6 Ally Supreme! we turn to Thee A
Pindaric carries a formidable found; but there “ We learn obedience from the sea ;
is nothing formidable in the true pature of "With seas, and winds, henceforth, thy laws it; of which (with utmost fubmiffion) I conceive " fulsi :
the critics have hitherto entertained a false idea. "C'Tis thine our blood to freeze, or warm;
Pindar is as natural as Anacreon, though not fo • To rouze, or hush the martial llorm;
familiar, As a fixt star is as much in the bounds "And turn the tide of conquest, at thy will.
of nature, as a power of the field, though less obvious, and of greater dignity. This is not the
received notion of Pindar; I shall therefore foon "'Tis Tline to beam fublime renown,
support at large thạt hint which is now givcu. " Or quench the glories of a crown;
Trade is a very noble fubject in itself; more "'Tis Thine to doom, 'tis Thine, from death ta proper than any for an Englishman; and parti
cularly seasonable at this juncture. " To turn aside his level'd dart,
We have more specimens of good writing in ". Or pluck it from the bleeding heart :
cvery province, than in the sublime ; - hero we cast anchor, we confide in Thee.
mous Epic Poems excepted. I was willing to make an attempt where I had fewest rivals.
1, f Aurora Borealise
our two fa
If, on reading this Ode,' any man has a fuller
I idea of the real intereft, or posible glory of his The waves are hush'd; the winds are spent ! country, than before; or a stronger impresion from This kingdom, from the kingdoms rent, it, or a warmer concern for it, I give up to the I celebrate in fong---Fam'd lille ! no lessz !a copine critic any farther reputation.
By nature's favour, from mankind, We have many copies and translations that pass Than by the foaming/ca, disjoin'd; for originals. This Ode i humbly.conceive is an Alone in bliss! an is, in happiness ! original, though it professes imitation. No man cao be like Pindar, by imitating any of his par
Though Fate and Time have damp'd my ticular works; any more than like Raphael, by
Atrains, copying the cartoons. The genius and spirit of
Though youth no longer fires my veins, luch great men must be collected from the whole ; Though flow their streams in this cold climate and when thus we are poflefled of -it, we must
run; exert its energy in subjects and designs of our own.
The royal eye difpels. my cares, Nothing is so unpindarical as following Pindar on Recals the warmth of blooming years, the foot. Pindar is an original, and he must be returning George supplies the distant fun. so too, who would be like Pindar in that which is his greatest praise. Nothing so unlike as 4 close copy, and a noble originale.
A way, my soul! falute the * Pine, As for length, Pindar has an unbroken Ode of six That glads the heart of Caroline, hundred liges. Nothing is long or fort in writ-Its grand deposit faithful to restore ;
Salute the bark that ne'er fhall hold: ing, but relatively to the demand of the subject, and the manner of treating it. A diftich may be
So rich a freight in gems or gold,'s long, and a folio fort. However, I have broken this Apd loaded from both Indies would be poor. Ode into Strains, each of which may be considera ed as a separite Ode if you please. And if the My soul! to thee, Joe spreads her fails; variety and fullness of matter be confidered, I am Their bofoms All with facred gales; rather apprehensive of danger from brevity in this with inspiration from the godhead warm; Ode, than from length. But lank 'writing is Now bound for an eternal clime
:: * what I think ought most to be declined, if for O send her down the tide of Time, nothing else, for our plenty of it.
Snatch'd from oblivion, and secure from florm, The Ode is the most spirited kind of poetry, and, the Pinduric is the most spirited kind of Ode; this
Or teach this flag, like that to soar, I speak at my own very great peril : but truth Which Gods of old and Ilerges bore ; has an eternal title to our confeffion, though we
Bid her a Britilh constellation rise pre fuse to suffer by it.
The sea Me scorns; and, now, shall bound
On lofty billows of sweet sound,
I am her pilot, and her port the skies !.
Dare you to sing, ye tinkling train ?
Silence, ye wretched ! 'ye profane!,
Who Mackle prase, and boast of abfent Gods; BRITISH TRADE AND NAVIGATION.
Who murder thought, and numbers maim,
Who write Pindarics cold and lame, TO HIS GRACE“THE DUKE OF CHANDOS. And labour Aiff. Anacreontic Odes., πλατείαι πάντοθεν λογίοι
Ye lawful Sons of Genius rise!', σιν εντι πρόσοδοι
Of genuine title to the skies; νασον έυκλέα τάν.
Ye founts of Learning! and ye mints of Fame ?de xocutive "Pinn. Nem. Od. VI:
Yon, who file off the mortal part
Oi glowing thought, with Attic art,
And drink pure lung liom Cam's or llis' Iream. THE PRELUDE.
I plow, I burn! the numbers pure, The Propofition. An address to the vessel that brought over the King. Who lhould log on this
High-Havour’d, delicate, mature, occasion.' A Pindaric boalt.
Spontaneous stream from my umlabour'd breast,
As, when full-ripened toems.the vine,
The generous burlts of milling wine *AST by the furge my limbs are spread, Diril nectareous from the grape -2.pxejl. The winds are loud; the waves tumultuous reti;
STRAIN Ye winds! indulge your rage no more ; .
Ye sounding billows ! cease to roar; The God descends; and transports warm my soul * The volte! that brought over ite King,