KILKENNY: OR, THE Old Man's WISH.
[3]SINCE Man is ſurely Born to Die,
And Riſe to long Eternity;
Let Virtue guide his ſteps below,
That fearleſs, he may meet the Blow,
AS I am one of Human Race,
With Patience waiting heavenly Grace;
And Age has worn me fifty Years,
With tardy Hopes, and Swift-wing'd Fears,
[4]I'd Wiſh the Lees of Life to wear
Without the weight of Wordly care.
HAD I my Wiſh, or choice to Dwell,
It ſhould 'be ſome clean rural Cell,
Beneath the Shade of ſpreading Trees,
Whoſe murm'rings with a gentle Breeze,
Might Lull my Senſes into Reſt,
And ſooth the Troubles of my Breaſt.
O! Dunmore! ſeat of earthly Bliſs!
Whoſe lofty Woods, and Sylvan Scenes
Thy Dells, and Varigated Greens
Seem to ſurpaſs old Tempe's Grove, (b)
That ſeat of joy, and ſpringing Love!
Within thy Shade i'd fix my Cell,
There's none on Earth wou'd pleaſe ſo well.
Through the vaſt Globe I've wander'd o'er
And touch'd at many a diſtant Shore;
[5]Seen various Nations, Rude, and Mild,
Nature improv'd, and nature Wild:
Yet none have ſuch Contentment given,
As thou, Dunmore, an earthly Heav'n!
Yet when I view thy mould'ring Walls,
Whoſe trembling Ruin daily Falls,
I muſt Lament thy Ancient Date
With him, that urg'd his luckleſs Fate!
A LITTLE Garden, form'd for Food,
Self-cultur'd, to enlive my Blood:
IF Lab'ring in my Garden's bound,
Along hid Treaſure ſhou'd be found,
For Ages bury'd under Ground,
In during Marble, wou'd I raiſe,
To you great * COLLIS, endleſs Praiſe!
With Artful chiſſel ſhould be ſhown
In Buſt, a Figure, like thy own:
O! great Inventor! Native Son!
No Art can equal what thou'ſt done,
[6]HIBERNIA, may with Pride declare,
Nought under Heav'n is found ſo Rare.
MY Garden Borders, ſet with Flowers,
Bedew'd with artificial Showers,
Shou'd Nature, heated, ceaſe to deign
Her Friendly Clouds and dropping Rain:
There wou'd I ſcent the Damaſk Roſe,
That in my vernal border grows;
And as it's ſweetneſs meets Decay
I ſhou'd Reflect, and ſighing ſay,
Thus Life blooms up, and Fades away!
BENEATH my little Garden Wall,
A purling Stream ſhou'd gently fall
Whoſe limpid murmurings might glide,
Unmix'd, with any luſtful Tide,
To violate her virtuous Bed,
And ſwell her Womb, with riſeing dread;
Then leave her Stain'd to Weep and Mourn,
With various Miſchiefs not her own,
As many a Wretch, has Woman done!
O! lovely Sex! your Virtue keep,
Let no ill Thoughts diſturb your Sleep;
[7]Take ſage Advice, from him that knows
The ſtrength, and Number of your Foes:
All ſullied Arts, and Sighs deſpiſe,
Repell the Darts of guilty Eyes.
The glitt'ring Gem the Orient yields,
(The Flow'rs that deck the Fragrant Fields)
The Silks inrich'd with burniſh'd Gold
(For theſe poor Beauty oft is ſold)
All theſe true Virtue will outſhine,
For Virtue's Robe is all Divine.
RAIS'D o'er the Brook, an ever-green,
The Vine, and Woodbine mixt between,
Whoſe tendrils ſhou'd conjointly move,
To form a Sphaeral Arch above:
There woul'd I ſit, to breath freſh Air,
And view the glorious Hemiſphere.
With Contemplation fill my Soul!
Admire the Beauty of the whole,
Then Praiſe the great Almighty Hand,
Who form'd the World at his Command!
What Reptile Heart, all theſe cou'd ſee,
And yet that Wretch an Atheiſt be?
[8]
SEE, from this height the Caſtle riſe,
Whoſe Turrets ſeem to brave the Skies:
Behold thoſe Domes for Heav'n deſign'd,
To cure the Paſſions of the Mind:
There, mixing with the early Gueſt,
I'd Pray to gain eternal Reſt:
Forgive, as I wou'd be Forgiven,
And live in Hope to merit Heav'n.
HOW I regret the want of Art,
To ſhow the ardours of my Heart!
Had I great * Phillip's honeſt ſkill,
Who in ſweet Honey dip'd his Quill:
Whoſe well-taught Numbers gently fall:
Not like loſt Pope, who wrote in Gall!
Drawcanſir like, at every blow,
He ſtruck at ALL, both Friend, and Foe.
O! awful Phillips! cou'd I be
By Inſpiration Fir'd by thee!
How ſmooth my rugged Lines would flow?
With pleaſing Raptures as they go,
[9]A gentle, generous Flame impart,
To warm the Thought, and touch the Heart.
MY Habit, plain, devoid of Lace,
That Suits not an Autumnal Face:
A coarſe dark Frize may fit my Age
That might the Northern blaſts aſſwage.
WHEN Winters Snow, and petrid Hail,
Deform the riſeing Hill, and Dale,
And hoary Froſts diſguiſe the Woods,
And bind in Chains the rapid Floods,
Within my Cell, I wou'd Retire,
And warm me with Kilkenny Fire.
A few well choſen Books I'd have,
Some to prepare me for the Grave:
The reſt to paſs my time away;
(Heav'n aſks not all my Hours to pray)
Religion ought to cheer the mind,
Form us Benevolent and kind;
No ſcowling looks, or ſour grimace,
Shou'd ere be ſeated on the Face,
But all diffus'd with ſmilling Grace.
[10]
SOME Friends ſelect, like Books, I'd chuſe
For converſe fit, or ſcan the Muſe:
To read a Play, I think no crime,
Or any other decent Rhyme,
Yet, ſhun all thoſe whom Vice approve,
Or give Succeſs to Lawleſs Love.
Wou'd Helſham deign to condeſcend (c)
To rank me as his meaneſt Friend:
Or Evans, thou juſt Magiſtrate, (d)
Whoſe double Honours ſpeak thee Great,
The feather'd Hours wou'd ſmiling paſs,
Altho' we chac'd the circ'ling Glaſs.
Good Wine, with moderation us'd
Revives the Senſe, but drowns abus'd.
IF I ſhou'd hear the early Horn,
With ſprightly Notes awake the Morn,
Expelling Slumber from the Eyes,
Bidding the lazy Sluggard Riſe,
[11](To mount the fiery mettled Steed,
Who champs, and foaming to be Freed,
With guided Rein, to ſcour the mead,
Or ore the breathing Mountain lead.)
My Blood wou'd rouze me from my Cell
To view the Sport I lov'd ſo well:
Yet take Diſcretion for my Guide,
And Walk ſuch Hills I us'd to Ride:
Then, when the pleaſing Toil was o're,
And Hounds, and Horns were heard no more
I'd to my quiet Cell repair
And Healthfull feed on homely Fare:
High Sauces but corrupt the Blood,
Diffuſing Poiſon with our Food.
A little, Nature will ſuffice,
An Epicure was never Wiſe.
WHEN Spring revives the flowry Field
And calls the Feather'd Race to build;
When they begin to ſtrain their Throats,
With various, and delightful Notes;
I ſhou'd not judge it any Crime
To call back years of fletting time,
[12]And, tho thoſe Days are long ſince paſt,
(For pleaſing Moments fly in Haſte)
Yet, I may think upon the Fair,
Whoſe lovely Eyes diſpel'd diſpair!
But then to loſe a virtuous Wife,
That joy diſpenſer of my Life,
That ſocial Balm to ev'ry Smart,
That Cordial to an aching Heart!
He that can feel by Simphathy,
Muſt loſe his Wife, and love like me.
For Love in Age to Friendſhip turns,
And with a laſting ardour Burns.
Hale Youth, perhaps, may ſmilling ſeem
To taunt, and Ridicule this Theme,
But youngſters, I would have you know,
I once was young as well as you!
True Love was never thought a Crime
A pleaſing Joy, a Bliſs Sublime!
A beauteous Infant ever mild,
A Tranſport-touching tender Child!
When his chaſt Bow, and thrilling Dart:
Fixes his Empire in the Heart,
[13]But then, this lovely beauteous youth,
This Child of Innocence and Truth,
A Brother has ſo like in Face,
Adorn'd with all his ſmiling Grace:
The firſt, inſpiring heavenly Love!
The laſt, to guilty Paſſions move!
Infects the Blood within the Veins,
And tortures with Infernal Pains!
O! ſhun his lewd deteſted Art,
You'll know him by his leaden Dart.
WHEN Phoebus, with enliv'ning Ray,
Improves the Glebe, and lengthens Day
Then to the Silver ſtream repair
(Breathing the wholeſome Morning Air)
And e're Aurora ſhews her Face
Prepare to Trap the finny Race:
Great Nature there, we may behold.
Some ting'd with Azure, ſome with Gold,
Some arm'd with Scales prepar'd for War,
The Innocent for Flight prepare
So Butchers, (if a Butcher's nigh)
When harmleſs Curs are paſſing by,
[14]Hallo their Dogs to ſet them on,
And laugh to ſee them piece-meal torn.
Thus, in the Stream, the weak-ones fall,
But wily Man betrays them all.
THOU Dunmore Cave, I wou'd once more (e)
(But not alone) thy Womb explore
Where Nature, Playfull, has deſign'd
Such Works, as will ſurprize Mankind!
Ill omen'd Birds the Mouth Reſort,
The Dwellers of this dreary Court:
Deſcending then by ſlow degrees,
Your Hands ſuſtain'd by hanging Trees;
The Vault enlarges to your ſight,
Diſplays to view, a gloomy Light;
There, as in new found Worlds, you ſee
Great Nature's vaſt variety
Where dropping Waters change to Stone
To form the Cylinder, and Cone,
There concav'd Organs, Pillars riſe,
And Tubes that might deceive the Eyes.
[15]But ſtay not long, for all beneath
Is noxious Air the Vitals breath.
The Caverns ending none can tell,
Old Fables ſay there Witches dwell,
And this the ready Road to Hell.
Miles have been trac'd the gloomy Way
Without the ſight of chearing Day.
Yet, all the ſurface over head,
Is fertile Land, and graſs-grown Mead,
Where Cattle graze, and Nightly Sleep,
And Shepherd's keep their harmleſs Sheep,
To watch their Lambs, to give Relief,
Or Guard them from the prouling Thief:
The Wolves, whom oft their Flocks annoy'd,
Long Ages paſt have been deſtroy'd:
But Monſters of the Human Race,
Now Wolves are gone, uſurp their place.
BEHOLD, where ſhallow Dinan flows, (f)
Noiſy as Fops, or empty Beaux,
Is ſilent, curb'd beneath her Shore.
See how the noble Siſter glides!
With lovely Borders on her Sides,
To meet the other Royal Pair,
As full as Beautifull and Fair,
Hibernia's Siſters, Graces three,
They Kiſs, embrace, then meet the Sea.
THUS wou'd I paſs my Days and Nights,
In Social innocent Delights.
WHAT Hope, alas! have I to find,
Such ſweet contentment for my Mind?
A Dream of tranſient Bliſs too Great!
O! teach me Heav'n! to bear my Fate:
I've learnt too late in Sorrows School,
The eaſy Man's the Villians Tool!
Tho' Britain is my Mother Earth,
She prov'd a Step-dame from my Birth:
[17]Therefore, if I my Wiſhes have,
This much-lov'd Soil ſhall be my Grave.
O! BLEST IERNE! happy Iſle!
Around thee, Heav'n and Nature Smile!
No Murrain o'er thy Cattle Reigns
Nor War-drawn-blood imbrue thy Plains,
Replete with Plenty, Health and eaſe
In War, enjoying ſweet-ey'd Peace!
Beholding Arts, that ſmilling Riſe!
O! MADDEN! juſtly good and Wiſe
Thou art the Source from whence they flow,
From thee, next Heav'n, they Spring and grow.
One Monarch may his People gain,
Succeeding Kings with Bleſſings Reign;
Yet theſe, when Death's cold ſlumbers call,
Are loſt, and in Oblivion Fall:
But MADDEN, endleſs Praiſe will find,
Rever'd by long unborn Mankind!
HERE Harmony has choſe her Seat,
Within this Halcion ſafe Retreat
[18]Here Mathew's flying Fingers roul
To calm and thrill the raptur'd Soul.
Immortal Muſic form'd the World,
That lay in dreary Chaos hurld,
The Sphaeres began their heav'nly Strains,
To range the Vocal Hills and Plains;
All order came by ſweet Degrees,
To bound the Rivers, Lakes and Seas,
Soft Ovid elegantly Sings
What energy from Muſick Springs
Appollo charm'd Imperial Jove,
With all the Heav'nly Court above.
All Hell was ſtruck by Orpheus' Lute,
The tripple Cerberus was mute,
The Tortur'd reſted from their Pains,
And ſoftly ſhook their binding Chains.
Amphion with his artful ſkill,
Allur'd the Dolphin to his will:
Yet one prevail'd to gain a Wife,
The laſt, to ſave precarious Life.
But none of theſe diſplaid their Art,
To eaſe the pineing Captives Heart,
[19]That goodneſs is Ierne given
The copy of Aetherial Heav'n!
Hail! Social Virtue! gift Divine,
How heav'nly bright your Actions ſhine!
Your Souls unitedly agree,
To give the wretched Liberty.
AGAIN I muſt purſue my Theme
This Airy, Hopeleſs, empty Dream!
IF Neigh'bring Peaſants round my Cell,
Shou'd not in ſeemly concord dwell
I'd try to Heal their home-bred Wars,
And with good councel Cure their Jars.
WHEN e're the Rural Nymphs and Swains,
Prepare their Sports upon the Plains,
I'd mix, and leaning on my Staff
Partake their Joy, and join their Laugh.
Old Age with youth, might well agree,
Wou'd they ſhake off Severity:
The Harp, harmoniouſly be ſtrung,
If Age wou'd think they once were young.
[20]
BUT if my End, with Giant' ſtrides,
Comes roleing with impetuous Tides;
And all the Lumber of Diſeaſe,
Which Death alone, can only eaſe:
Grant Heav'n! with Patience, I may bear,
The deſtin'd load of ſickly care;
And when pale Death's unerring Dart,
(The Fate of King's) has pierc'd my Heart,
'Tis this, and all I wou'd have ſaid—
Alas! the good old Man is DEAD!
FINIS.