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POEMS UPON Various Occaſions.
Written for the Entertainment OF THE AUTHOR, And Printed for the Amuſement Of a few FRIENDS, Prejudic'd in his Favour.
BY WILLIAM SHENSTONE, Gent.
—Spes & Fortuna, valete!
OXFORD: Printed by Leon Lichfield near Eaſt-Gate. 1737.
PREFATORY DEDICATION, TO Mrs [...]
[iii]DEdications, Madam, ought in Po⯑licy to be addreſt to the moſt powerful, and in Juſtice to the moſt deſerving. Theſe I think I have united by applying to You in this Manner, who have gain'd the former of theſe Advantages by means of the latter. Accompliſhments like Your's give the moſt abſolute Authority of any: I mean that over the Judgments, as well as Hearts of Mankind.
I intended here, Madam, after the Man⯑ner of other well-meaning Dedicators, to have given ſome Sketches of Your Cha⯑racter. Not ſo much from the Oſtenta⯑tion of my Art in deſcribing, as of the peculiar Diligence I have uſed in obſerv⯑ing it. An indifferent Painter may trace ſome Features of his Sov'reign's Face, whoſe Loyalty has render'd him accurate in ſtudying the Original—Beſides, 'Twere [iv] hard a Lady of Your Perfections ſhou'd be the only one exempted from the Pleaſure of being acquainted with 'em. 'Tis true, You have a quick Eye, and penetrating Judgment in diſtinguiſhing both natural, and moral Beauties: But You muſt inevi⯑tably remain a Stranger to the greateſt, were it not for the Aſſiſtance of thoſe im⯑portant Utenſils, a Poet and a Looking⯑Glaſs.
'Twere dangerous indeed You might ſuffer by any Repreſentation I am capable of. But 'twas not Incapacity alone diſ⯑courag'd me. There is ſomething in Your Character vaſtly diſadvantageous to any that attempts it. To proclaim You poſſeſs'd of every imaginable good Quality, wou'd be ſaying it was Day, when the Sun ſhines in its Meridian. As for Your Faults, (if You have any,) they indeed are far enough from being liable to the former Exception: but the extreme Difficulty I ſhou'd have found in ſelecting a few minute ones, (And ſome I muſt have ſelected, if poſſible, as the Shades of my Piece;) together with the ſmall Share of Credit I ſhou'd have gain'd in the World, diſ-hearten'd me. Such indeed were my only Objections. Unleſs I may adjoin this, that to Strangers your real and genuine Character muſt have [v] paſs'd for Flattery. I ſay to Strangers, for, where you are known, You muſt be acknowledg'd incapable of it: As the Sun's Brightneſs can be ſet off by no Allu⯑ſion. Hence, in ſhort, I laid aſide all thoughts of a Portraiture. Thoſe, that wou'd love You as You deſerve, muſt know You; as neceſſarily, as thoſe, who know You, muſt conſequently love You.
As to the Poetry, I beg Leave to de⯑clare, that 'tis the Product of a young Ge⯑nius, little exercis'd in Verſification. And the Muſes, you know, Madam, are not like a great many of their Sex, that have the moſt Eſteem for thoſe, who neglect them; tho' they have had ſometimes, in Appearance. Horace, and Swift (whom to you I wou'd chuſe to mention) have at⯑tended them whole Mornings at their Toi⯑lette, that they might conduct them into the World, in a more agreeable Undreſs. But my Negligences, Madam, are of ſuch a Nature, that I muſt beg you'd impute them to Diſuſe and Inexperience. How⯑ever, by this Confeſſion, I may proba⯑bly put you in Mind of a Lady, who, having thrum'd over a Spinnet for a con⯑ſiderable Space, without the leaſt ſhew of Harmony, took much pains to prove ſhe had never play'd before. 'Tis with an [vi] Author much the ſame as with a Sports⯑man; Hippolitus may excuſe his Ill-ſucceſs to himſelf, and, perhaps juſtly alledge ſe⯑veral alleviating Circumſtances; But in vain may he attempt his vindication to the World. That has been ſo frequently de⯑luded by theſe Apologies, that it has made it a Rule to fix the Fault upon the Marks⯑man.
I indeed ever deſpair'd of affording much entertainment this way to a Lady of your refin'd Taſte: And I'm poſitive, that Indolence, has with me prov'd, and always will do, more than a Ballance to any other Ambition. This is my only Encou⯑ragement, that, as one almoſt inſenſibly con⯑forms to a taſte one very much admires, I can't but think theſe Trifles won't prove abſolutely diſagreeable to Your's.
You'll perhaps find other Names in theſe Pages, than that, which includes all that's agreeable, and is indeed the moſt compre⯑henſive word that is; I mean your own. But as there is ſome thing mean in an aver⯑ſion to the Praiſes of another, or a con⯑tinual Apprehenſion of being rival'd, which I take to be it's original; I'm ſecure of giving You no uneaſineſs. Eſpecially, ſince a Lady of Your Merit may give all others infinitely more than their due, without the leaſt Shadow of Danger.
[vii] I ask Pardon for the Pedantry of Latin Mottoes and Quotations: But You may ea⯑ſily diſpenſe with the loſs of them, whether You conſider them, merely as a Compliance with cuſtom, or as certain ſcraps of Anti⯑quity, to indemnify the Poet with thoſe Critic's, who approve only what's ancient. As there are ſome, who fix a tutelary Piece of Iron on their Threſholds, to elude the Fury of Ill-deſigning Spirits.
Next to the happineſs of being poſſeſs'd of Merit, is to ſhew one's Approbation of thoſe who are; And this is really no ſmall addition to a Man's Character. So that, ſhou'd theſe Papers appear ever ſo ridicu⯑lous, I ſhall value them on one Account; And ſhou'd their Fame prove equal to Mr. Pope's, I ſhou'd value them on none ſo much as that; which is, that they enable me to declare openly how much I am,
MADAM,
Your most Obedient Humble Servant,
Pembroke College, OXFORD, April 29th, 1737.
[1]POEMS Upon Various OCCASIONS.
The Speeches of SLOTH and VIRTUE: Upon the Plan of Xenophon's Judgment of Hercules.
SLOTH.
HITHER, dear Boy, direct thy wan⯑dring Eyes,
'Tis here the lovely Vale of Plea⯑ſure lies.
Debate no more—to me thy ſelf reſign;
Her moſſy Caves, her Groves, and all are mine.
For me the Goddeſs opes her various Pow'r,
Springs in a Tree, or bloſſoms in a Flow'r:
[2] To pleaſe my Ear ſhe breaths celeſtial Strains:
To pleaſe my Eye, with Lillies ſtrews the Plains:
To form my Couch in moſſy Beds ſhe grows:
To gratify my Smell ſhe blooms a Roſe.
Oft' in ſome Nymph the Deity I find,
Where in one Form the various Sweets are join'd.
Yield but to me,—a Choir of Nymphs ſhall riſe,
And with the blooming Sight regale thy Eyes:
Their beauteous Cheeks a fairer Roſe ſhall wear,
A brighter Lilly in their Necks appear:
Thou on their Breaſts thy wearied Head recline,
Nor at the Swan's leſs pleaſing Neſt repine:
Whilſt Philomel in each ſoft Voice complains,
And gently lulls thee with her dying Strains:
Whilſt ſpicy Gums round each fair Boſom glow;
And in each Accent myrrhy Odours flow.
For thee with ſofteſt Art the Dome ſhall riſe,
And ſpiring Turrets glitter thro' the Skies.
For thee the Robe ſhall glow with purple Rays;
The Side-board ſparkle, and gilt Chariot blaze,
In brilliant Mines, be other Hands employ'd.
So the gay Product be by thine enjoy'd.
For thee the Poplar ſhall her Amber drain:
For thee in clouded Beauty ſpring the Cane.
[3] To pleaſe thy Taſte ſhall Gallia prune the Vine:
To ſwell thy Treaſures India ſink the Mine.
For thee each Nations nicer Stores ſhall grow,
And ev'ry Wind ſome lovely Tribute blow.
Learning ſhall ne'er moleſt thy tranquil Reign,
Nor Science puzzle thy inactive Brain:
Sometimes perhaps thy Fancy take her Wing
To grace a Fan, or celebrate a Ring:
Fix various Dyes to ſuit each varying Mien:
Preſcribe where Patches ſhou'd in Crouds be ſeen;
Or ſigh ſoft Strains along the vocal Grove,
And tell the Charms, the ſweet Effects of Love!
Or if more ſpecious Eaſe thy Care ſhou'd claim,
And thy Breaſt glow with faint Deſire of Fame,
Some trivial Science ſhall thy Thoughts amuſe;
And Learning's Name a ſolemn Sound diffuſe.
To Thee all Nature's ſhelly Store I'll bring,
To thee the Sparklings on the Inſect's Wing.
Pleaſure in infant Forms ſhalt thou deſcry;
View, in an Ant, or hear her in a Fly;
When near thy Path, as oft as Spring appears,
The ſportive Goddeſs buzzes round thy Ears:
Now in ſome Pebble's curious Vein is ſeen,
Or on ſome Leaf beſtows unuſual Green.
[4]
Then Sleep ſhall wrap thee in her downy Arms,
And round thy weary'd Head diffuſe her Charms;
Leſt growing Pride thy peaceful Schemes o'erthrow,
And Thought ſucceed,—my moſt deſtructive Foe.
The watry Nymphs ſhall tune the tinkling Vales,
And gentle Zephyrs harmonize their Gales:
For thy repoſe inſtruct, with Rival Joy,
Their Streams to murmur, and their Winds to ſigh.
Thus ſhalt thou ſpend the ſweetly flowing Day,
Till loſt in Bliſs thou breath thy Soul away:
How eaſy a Tranſition ſhould'ſt thou find,
Were to thy Fate Annihilation join'd!
VIRTUE.
FLY, fly, fond Youth, the too indulgent Maid,
Nor err, by ſuch fantaſtick Scenes betray'd.
Tho' in my Path the prickly Thorn be ſeen,
And the waſte Turf produce a fainter Green;
Tho' no gay Roſe, or purple Product ſhine,
The rugged Surface ſtill conceals the Mine;
And each unſightly Object can ſupply
More laſting Pleaſure, more ſubſtantial Joy.
[5]
But ſhou'd thoſe airy glittr'ing Toys allure,
Yet whence cou'd Sloth the mighty Boon procure?
Or whence receive, or how thoſe Gifts beſtow,
Which I alone poſſeſs—her greateſt Foe?
I from old Ocean rob the treaſur'd Store,
And hidden Gems thro' ev'ry Realm explore:
'Twas I the rugged Brilliant firſt reveal'd,
By tenfold Strata in the Earth conceal'd:
'Tis I the ſhapeleſs Surface ſtill refine,
And teach the rugged Brilliant how to ſhine.
Where blooms the Roſe, where ſpires the ſhapely Tree,
Where ſmiles the Grape, without fair Induſtry?
But grant we Sloth the Scene herſelf has drawn,
The moſſy Grotto, and the flow'ry Lawn:
Let Frankincenſe with ev'ry Wind exhale,
And Philomela breath in ev'ry Gale;
Let Brilliants ſparkle, (dear Machines of Pride!)
And from the Poplar flow the Amber Tide:
Let gay Pomona, quitting all around,
For choiceſt Fruits ſelect the hallow'd Ground;
To tread the favour'd Soil ſhou'd Virtue ceaſe,
Nor moſſy Grotts, nor flow'ry Lawns cou'd pleaſe:
[6] Nor ought Pomona's luſcious Gifts avail:
The Sound harmonious; or the ſpicy Gale.
See'ſt thou thoſe Rocks in dreadful Pomp ariſe,
And barren Cliffs that ſweep the vaulted Skies?
Thoſe Fields whence Phoebus all their Moiſture drains,
And, too profuſely kind, diſrobes the Plains?
When I vouchſafe to tread the lonely Soil,
Thoſe Rocks ſeem lovely, and thoſe Deſarts ſmile;
Oft' on thoſe pathleſs Wilds as I appear,
(With Converſe ſweet his lonely Steps to chear)
Thoſe Cliffs the Exile has with Pleaſure view'd,
And call'd that Deſart, "Bliſsful Solitude!
Known by its airy Height and tow'ring Spires,
Behind that Scene Fame's lofty Dome retires.
Steep the Aſcent by which to Fame we riſe,
Yet equal to the Labour is the Prize:
From thence you gain an earthly Crown; from thence—you reach the Skies.
Far, far below the downy Throne is ſeen
That lulls to Reſt Ignavia's ſofter Queen:
[7] Thence to Fame's Turrets oft' She lifts her Eyes,
Deſirous ſtill, ſtill impotent to riſe.
Oft', when reſolv'd to gain thoſe ſhining Tow'rs,
The penſive Queen the dire Aſcent explores;
Comes onward, wafted by the gummy Trees,
Some Sylvan Muſick, or ſome ſcented Breeze;
She turns her Head; her own gay Realm ſhe ſpies,
And all the airy Reſolution dies.
Thus ſtill in vain theſe gilded Viſions pleaſe
The Wretch of Glory, whilſt the Slave of Eaſe;
Doom'd ever in ignoble State to pine,
Boaſt her own Scenes, and languiſh after mine.
LOVE and MUSICK.
[8]SHall Love alone for ever claim
An univerſal Right to Fame,
An undiſputed Sway?
Or has not Muſick equal Charms,
To fill the Breaſt with ſtrange Alarms,
And make the World obey.
The Thracian Bard, as Poets tell,
Cou'd mitigate the Pow'rs of Hell;
Ev'n Pluto's nicer Ear:
His Arts, no more than Love's, we find
To Deities or Men confin'd,
Drew Brutes in Crouds to hear.
Whatever fav'rite Paſſion reign'd,
The Poet ſtill his Right maintain'd
O'er all that rang'd the Plain:
The ſiercer Tyrants cou'd aſſwage,
Or fire the tim'rous into Rage,
Whene'er he chang'd the Strain.
[9]
In milder Lays the Bard began;
Soft Notes thro' every Finger ran,
And echoing charm'd the place:
See! fawning Lions gaze around,
And, taught to quit their ſavage Sound,
Aſſume a gentler Grace.
When Cymon view'd the fair One's Charms,
Her ruby Lips, and ſnowy Arms,
And told her Beauties o'er:
When Love reform'd his awkard Tone,
And made each clowniſh Geſture known,
It ſhew'd but equal Pow'r.
The Bard now tries a ſprightlier ſound,
When all the feather'd Race around
Perceive the vary'd Strains;
The ſoaring Lark the Note purſues;
The tim'rous Dove around him cooes,
And Philomel complains.
An equal Pow'r of Love I've ſeen
Incite the Deer to ſcour the Green,
And chace his barking Foe.
[10] Sometimes has Love, with greater might,
To challenge—nay—ſometimes—to fight
Provok'd th' enamour'd Beau.
When Silvia treads the ſmiling Plain,
How glows the Heart of ev'ry Swain,
By pleaſing Tumults toſt!
When Handel's ſolemn Accents roll,
Each Breaſt is fir'd, each raptur'd Soul
In ſweet Confuſion loſt.
If ſhe her melting Glances dart,
Or he his dying Airs impart,
Our Spirits ſink away.
Enough, enough! dear Nymph, give o'er;
And thou, great Artiſt! urge no more
Thy unreſiſted Sway.
Thus Love or Sound affects the Mind:
But when their various Pow'rs are join'd,
Fly, daring Mortal, fly!
For when Selinda's Charms appear,
And I her tuneful Accents hear—
I burn, I faint, I die!
COLEMIRA.
A Culinary ECLOGUE.
[11]‘Nec tantum Veners, quantum ſtudioſa culinae.’
NIght's ſable Clouds had half the Globe o'er⯑ſpread,
And Silence reign'd, and Folks were gone to Bed:
When Love, which gentle Sleep can ne'er inſpire,
Had ſeated Damon by the Kitchen Fire.
Penſive he lay, extended on the Ground;
The little Lares kept their Vigils round;
The fawning Cats compaſſionate his caſe,
And purr around, and gently lick his Face:
To all his 'plaints the ſleeping Curs reply,
And with hoarſe Snorings imitate a Sigh.
Such gloomy Scenes with Lover's Minds agree,
And Solitude to them is beſt Society.
Cou'd I (he cry'd) expreſs, how bright a grace
Adorns thy morning Hands, and well-waſh'd Face;
Thou wou'dſt, Colemira, grant what I implore,
And yield me love, or waſh thy face no more.
[12]
Ah! who can ſee, and ſeeing, not admire,
Whene'er ſhe ſets the Pot upon the Fire!
Her Hands out-ſhine the Fire, and redder things;
Her Eyes are blacker than the Pot ſhe brings.
But ſure no Chamber-damſel can compare,
When in meridian Luſtre ſhines my Fair,
When warm'd with Dinner's toil, in pearly rills,
Adown her goodly Cheek the Sweat diſtills.
Oh! how I long, how ardently deſire,
To view thoſe roſy Fingers ſtrike the Lyre!
For late, when Bees to change their Climes began,
How did I ſee 'em thrum the Frying-pan!
With her! I ſhou'd not envy G [...] his Queen,
Tho' She in royal Grandeur deck'd be ſeen:
Whilſt Rags, juſt ſever'd from my Fair-one's Gown,
In ruſſet Pomp, and greaſy Pride hang down.
Ah! how it does my drooping Heart rejoice,
When in the Hall I hear thy mellow Voice!
How wou'd that Voice exceed the Village-Bell,
Wou'dſt thou but ſing, "I like thee Paſſing well"!
[13]
When from the Hearth ſhe bade the Pointers go,
How ſoft! how eaſy did her Accents ſlow!
" Get out, ſhe cry'd, when Strangers come to Sup,
" One ne'er can raiſe thoſe ſnoring Devils up."
Then, full of wrath, ſhe kick'd each lazy Brute,
Alas! I envy'd even that Salute:
'Twas ſure miſplac'd,—Shock ſaid, or ſeem'd to ſay,
He had as lief, I had the kick, as they.
If ſhe the myſtick Bellows take in hand,
Who like the Fair can that Machine command?
O mayſt thou ne'er by Eolus be ſeen,
For he wou'd ſure demand thee for his Queen.
But ſhou'd the Flame this rougher aid refuſe,
And only gentler Med'cines be of uſe:
With full-blown Cheeks ſhe ends the doubtful ſtrife,
Foments the infant Flame, and puffs it into life.
Such Arts, as theſe, exalt the drooping Fire,
But in my Breaſt a fiercer Flame inſpire:
I burn! I burn! O! give thy puſſing o'er,
And ſwell thy Cheeks, and pout thy Lips no more.
[14]
With all her haughty Looks, the time I've ſeen;
When this proud Damſel has more humble been,
When with nice Airs ſhe hoiſt the Pan-cake round,
And dropt it, hapleſs Fair! upon the Ground.
Look, with what charming grace! what winning tricks!
The artful Charmer rubs the Candleſticks:
So bright ſhe makes the Candleſticks ſhe handles,
Oft have I ſaid,—There were no need of Candles.
But thou, my Fair! who never wou'dſt approve
Or hear, the tender Story of my love;
Or mind, how burns my raging Breaſt,—a Button—
Perhaps are dreaming of—a Breaſt of Mutton.
Thus ſaid, and wept the ſad deſponding Swain,
Revealing to the ſable Walls his Pain:
But Nymphs are free with thoſe they ſhou'd deny;
To thoſe, they love, more exquiſitely coy!
Now chirping Crickets raiſe their tinkling Voice,
The lambent Flames in languid Streams ariſe,
And Smoke in azure Folds evaporates and dies.
COMPARISON.
[15]'TIS by Compariſon we know
On ev'ry Object to beſtow
Its proper ſhare of Praiſe:
Did each a like Perfection bear,
What Beauty, tho' divinely Fair,
Cou'd Admiration raiſe?
Amidſt the lucid Bands of Night,
See! Heſperus, ſerenely bright
Adorns the diſtant Skies:
But languiſhes, amidſt the blaze,
Of ſprightly Sol's meridian Rays,—
Or Silvia's brighter Eyes.
Whene'er the Nightingale complains,
I like the melancholy Strains,
And praiſe the tuneful Bird:
But vainly might ſhe ſtrain her Throat,
Vainly exalt each ſwelling Note,
Shou'd Silvia's Voice be heard.
[16]
When, on the Vi'lets purple Bed.
Supine I reſt my weary Head,
The fragrant Pillow charms:
Yet ſoon ſuch languid Bliſs I'd fly,
Wou'd Silvia but the Loſs ſupply,
And take me to her Arms.
The Alabaſter's wond'rous White,
The Marble's Poliſh ſtrikes my Sight,
When Silvia is not ſeen:
But ah! how faint that White is grown,
How rough appears the poliſh'd Stone,
Compar'd with Silvia's Mien!
The Roſe, that o'er the Cyprian Plains,
With Flow'rs enamel'd, blooming reigns,
With undiſputed Pow'r,
Plac'd near her Cheek's celeſtial Red,
(Its Purple loſt, its Luſtre fled,)
Delights the Senſe no more.
The SCHOOL-MISTRESS.
A POEM.
In Imitation of Spencer's Stile.
[17]IN evrich Mart that ſtands on Britiſh Ground,
In evrich Village leſs y-known to Fame,
Dwells there, in Cot uncouth, a far renown'd,
A Matron old, whom we School-Miſtreſs name;
Who wont unruly Brats with Birch to tame:
They grieven ſore in Durance vile y-pent,
Aw'd by the Pow'r of uncontrouled Dame;
And oft-times on Vagaries idly bent
For Task unconn'd, or unkempt Hair are ſore y-ſhent.
II.
Nar to this Dome is found a Patch ſo green,
On which the Tribe their Gambols do diſplay:
Als at the Door impris'ning Board is ſeen;
Leſt weakly Wights of ſmaller ſize ſhou'd ſtray:
Eager, perdie, to bask in ſun-ſhine Day:
The Noiſes intermix'd, which thence reſound,
Do Learning's little Tenement betray;
Where ſits the Dame, diſguis'd in Look profound,
And eyes her fairy Throng, and turns her Wheel around.
[18]III.
Right well knew She each Temper to deſcry,
To thwart the proud, and the ſubmiſs to raiſe:
Some with vile copper Prize exalt on high,
And ſome entice with Pittance ſmall of Praiſe:
And other Sorts with baleful Spriggs affrays:
Eke in her Abſence She command doth hold,
While with quaint Arts the thoughtleſs Croud ſhe ſways;
Fore-warn'd if little Bird their Tricks behold,
'Twill whiſper in her Ear, and all the Scene unfold.
IV.
Lo! now, with State, ſhe utters the command.
Eftſoons the Urchins to their Tasks repair;
Their Books of ſtature ſmall take they in Hand,
Which with pellucid Horn ſecured are,
To ſave from Finger wet, the Letters fair:
The Work ſo quaint, that on their Backs is ſeen,
St. George's high Atchievements does declare;
On which thilk Wight that has y-gazing been
Kens the forth-coming Rod, unpleaſing Sight, I ween!
[19]V.
But ah! what Pen his woful Plight can trace,
Or what Device his loud Laments explain,
The Form uncouth of his diſguiſed Face,
The pallid Hue that dyes his Looks amain,
The plenteous Show'r that does his Check diſtain,
When he in abject wiſe implores the Dame;
Ne hopeth ought of ſweet Reprieve to gain:
Or when from high ſhe levels well her Aim,
And thro' the Thatch his Cries each falling Stroke proclaim.
VI.
The other Tribe aghaſt, with ſore diſmay
Attend, and conn their Tasks with mickle Care:
By turns aſtony'd evrich Twigg ſurvey,
And from their Fellows furrow'd Bum beware;
Knowing, I wiſt, how each the ſame may ſhare:
Till Fear has taught 'em a performance meet,
And to the well-known Cheſt the Dame repair;
Whence oft with ſugar'd Cates ſhe doth 'em greet,
And Ginger-bread y-rare, now, certes, doubly ſweet.
[20]VII.
Now to their Seats they hie with merry glee,
And in beſeemly order ſitten there;
All but the Wight of Bum y-galled, he
Abhors both Bench, and Stool, and Form, and Chair;
(This Hand in Mouth y-fix'd, that rends his Hair)
And eke with Snubs profound, and heaving Breaſt,
Convulſions intermitting! does declare
His grievous Wrongs, his Dame's unjuſt Beheſt,
And ſcorns her proffer'd Love, and ſhuns to be careſs t.
VIII.
Behind ſome Door, in melancholy Thought,
Mindleſs of Food, he, dreary Caitiff! pines,
Ne for his Fellows joyance careth ought,
But to the Winds all Merriment reſigns.
His Face beſprent with liquid Chryſtal ſhines;
And many a ſullen Look askaunce is ſent,
Which for his Dame's Annoyance he deſigns;
Nathleſs the more to pleaſure him ſhe's bent,
The more doth he perverſe her 'Haviour paſt reſent.
[21]IX.
Algates the reſt from ſilk Misfortune free,
Stir'n but as Nature doth abroad them call;
Then ſquatten down with Hand beneath each Knee,
Ne ſeeken out or ſecret Nook or Wall,
But cack in open Street—no Shame doth them appall.
And may no Carl their Innocence deride,
While they p [...]ſs, boldly, in the face of all;
Turning unaw'd their Veſtments ſmall aſide,
Ne covet Hedge, ne Barn their privy Parts to hide.
X.
But when the Hour of Pleaſaunce draweth near,
They uſher forth all debonair and gay;
And ſtanding on the Green, with jocund Leer,
Salute the Stranger paſſing on his Way.
Some builden fragile tenements of Clay;
Some to the ſtanding Lake their Courſes bend,
With Pebbles ſmooth at Duck and Drake to play:
Thilk to the Huxter's ſav'ry Cot y-tend,
In paſtry Kings and Queens th' allotted Mite to ſpend.
[22]XI.
Here, as each Seaſon yields a diffrent ſtore,
Each Seaſon's Stores in order ranged been;
Apples with Cabbage-net y-cover'd o'er,
Galling full ſore th' unmoney'd Wight are ſeen,
And Gooſe-b'rie clad in Liv'ry red, or green:
And here of lovely Dye the Cath'rine Pear,
Fine Pear! as lovely for thy Juice, I ween.
O! may no Wight e'er pennyleſs come there,
Leſt led by thee aſtray, he ſhameful Theft prepare.
XII.
See! Cherries here, e'er Cherries yet abound,
With Thread ſo white in luſheous Bundles ty'd,
Scatter, like blooming Maid, their Glances round;
And draw with pamper'd Look our Eyes aſide:
Theſe muſt be bought tho' Penury betide;
The Plum of purple Hue, the Nut ſo brown,
Tempting the paſſing Swain: thilk Cakes beſide,
Whoſe much-lov'd Names th' Inventreſs City own,
Rend'ring thro' Britain's Iſle Salopia's Praiſes known.
The QUILL,
[23]REnown'd Machine! important Trifle!
To whom each Art ſome Tribute owes,
Who to the World thy Praiſe can ſtifle?
Or who without thy Aid diſcloſe?
II.
How juſt Thou prov'ſt to injur'd Merit,
When Courts neglect it, hence we find;
Thro' Thee does Pope Fame's Hill inherit,
And circling Bays his Temples bind.
III.
Yet are the dull, as well as brighteſt,
Indebted to Thy various Uſe:
When flatter'd Noble's Praiſe Thou writeſt,
Or gayly deck'ſt Thy Parent Gooſe.
IV.
When Peggy's Cleanly Hand Thou graceſt,
The ill-plac'd Web Thy Preſence flies;
As Thou by Young's Direction chaceſt
The miſ-becoming Stains of Vice.
[24]V.
In Chevy-chace, ſo fam'd in Story,
Thou taught'ſt th' unerring Shafts to fly;
When, fatal to the Scotiſh Glory,
Thy Down imbib'd the purple Dye.
VI.
When Chloe form'd the Silken Flower,
(Which, by Thy aid, the Artiſt drew;)
And felt the guilty Needle's Power,
Such was her lovely Finger's Hue.
VII.
When hoſtile Rage, and Fury lingers,
And Vengeance comes but ſlowly on;
Thou plac'd between Machaon's Fingers,
Far, Far excell'ſt both Sword and Gun!
VIII.
While ev'ry grateful Tongue rehearſes,
The Monarch's praiſe; each rolling Year,
How dext'rous Thou, in Squibs, or Verſes,
C [...]r, or Black-ſhoe-boy declare.
[25]IX.
Unhappy Tooth Thy Aid requiring,
Thou can'ſt from Fragments vile refine;
Then, from the gen'rous Work retiring,
Enjoy'ſt alone the Silver Shrine.
X.
Kneller, to diſtant Times and Places,
(While Thou confin'dſt each ſtragling Hair,)
Cou'd tell his Art, and Myra's Graces,
How skillful he, and ſhe how fair.
XI.
In Silvia's Spinnet, ever-pleaſing,
Thy tributary Aid is known:
When, Poet's Harmony increaſing,
His Fame Thou raiſeſt,—and Thy own.
XII.
Potent, when Handel's Touch obeying,
Thou can'ſt to Heav'n exalt the Mind:
Yet more, when, Charming Silvia playing,
In her alone an Heav'n we find!
—Alboque ſimillima cygno
[26]AS Delia lovely Syren! ſate
The myrtle Shades among;
Regardleſs of a farther Fate
Than what her killing Eyes create,
Philander beg'd a Song.
Too well, alas! the artful knew
He'd not his ſuit give o'er;
And cry'd—"by walking in the Dew,"
" I'm grown ſo hoarſe"—"I vow'tis true"—
" Dear Swain, inſiſt no more!"—
At length, to his renew'd Addreſs
She yields, yet vows again
She ſcarce can draw her Breath, much leſs
In modulated Thrills expreſs,
Or raiſe one pleaſing Strain.—
Such-like Evaſions ſtore the Heart
Of ev'ry tuneful She,
That one, unvers'd in Female Art,
Muſt think them going to impart
Like Swans, their Elegy.
The GOSSIPPING.
A BALLAD.
[27]To the Tune of, King John, and the Abbot of Can⯑terbury.
TO a Goſſiping once the Immortals deſcended,
(As ſome Sort of People are hugely befriend⯑ed,)
Where with ſtout humming Liquor the Tankards ran o'er,
And each thought he ne'er drank ſuch Nectar before
Derry down, down, Hey derry down.
But what brought they with 'em, theſe Heavenly Gueſts?
Folks never go empty to ſuch Sort of Feaſts:
Why, they brought neither Sugar, nor Plumbs it is true.
But all made a Promiſe of what they wou'd do.
Derry down, &c.
Jove gave a Salute to the Mother and ſmil'd,
And ſaid, he would prove a good Friend to the Child;
And wou'd make him one Day, at his Parents Deſire.
Or a Lord of a Mannour, or Knight of a Shire.
Derry down, &c.
[28]
Apollo but cry'd, as the Bantling ſhou'd grow,
He'd teach him a Tune on the Bag-pipes, or ſo:
Or, if he ſhou'd chuſe ſome Employment to kill,
He'd ſhew him the beſt in the World—with a Pill.
Derry down, &c.
Diana ſat next to her Brother, in Place,
And ſaid, in her Woods he might follow the Chace:
And if Courſing or ſuch like, ſhou'd e'er be his Care;
She, at one Minute's Warning, cou'd ſhew him an Hare.
Derry down, &c.
Then Neptune aroſe, and the Infant to bleſs,
In all Sorts of Fiſhery, promis'd ſucceſs:
By the Rivers, or Ponds, let him go where he wou'd,
With Rods, Lines, and ſo forth—his Sport ſhou'd be good.
Derry down, &c.
God Bacchus ſucceeded, and hiccuping ſaid,
Of all jolly Topers he'd make him the Head:
And when each other Toper lay low on the Ground,
This Toper upright, on his Legs ſhou'd be found.
Derry down, &c.
Mars affirm'd with a Volley of Oaths, like a Hector,
In all Sorts of Squabbles, he'd be his Protector:
Nor ſhou'd he ever Sneak, or be any Man's Joke,
For himſelf wou'd ſtand by him,—and ſee his Head—broke.
Derry down, &c.
[29]
At this up-hop'd Vulcan, that ſooty old Blinker,
And ſwore, he cou'd furniſh the Brat with a Tinker;
Mend Kettles, and Pans—or if that wou'd not do,
He might call at his Shop, ſhou'd his Horſe want a Shoe.
Derry down, &c.
Then Venus ſhe promis'd to ſearch the World round,
And if ever a buxom Young Laſs cou'd be found—
Or, (ſhe ſimper'd, and ſaid,) If he wanted a whore,
She'd be at his Service,—ſhe need not ſay more—
Derry down, &c.
Grim Pluto then whiſper'd in the good-woman's Ear,
So lowly he whiſper'd, one ſcarcely cou'd hear:
But it was, Sir, to give the Young ſtripling to know,
He cou'd wink at a Fault, when he came down below.
Derry down, &c.
Minerva, Proſerpina, Juno, and more,
Who ſhou'd, (Criticks ſay) have been mention'd before,
Were going to promiſe ſome good to the Child—
But alas! and alack! all their Project was ſpoil'd—
Derry down, &c.
For the Fates being angry they were not invited,
Took ill the Neglect, and reſolv'd to require it:
[30] Let us e'en cut the Thread in two, one of 'em cry'd,
So the Bantling b [...]d him, b [...]t him, and dy'd.
Derry down, &c.
Let Parents, before they build vaſt Expectations,
To ſee their Sons fill up high Places, and Stations,
Be Rulers of Boroughs, or Rulers of States:
Get a Promiſe, or Note o' their Hands, from the Fates.
Derry down, down, Hey derry down.
STANZA's
To the Memory of W. G. Pariſh-Clerk, Who departed this Life &c. to the In⯑expreſſible Grief of his Admirers.
In Imitation of Maiſter Sternhold.
[31]O Wight, that travell'ſt this Church-Yard!
Mark what this Stone doth tell;
And if thou but unletter'd art,
Sit down awhile and ſpell.
II.
Thou art, God-wot, both brisk and ſtrong,
And think'ſt not yet to die.
Lo! e'er Death laid me all along,
Juſt ſuch a one was I.
III.
Death makes the ſtouteſt Mortal ſtart,
Few are courageous then:
Yet, when I ſaw I muſt depart,
I boldly cry'd,—Amen.
[32]IV.
I wot not well, how others can,
The Folk to Heaven bring;
But well I trow, I was the Man,
That led them in a String.
V.
I hawk'd, and hem'd, and ſung and ſpit,
And vex'd my Throat full ſore:
Some when I ſung, were pleas'd at it,
And ſome—when I gave o'er.
VI.
Certes, there are will hum a Tune,
And ſing a Song right well:
Yet ſure no Song was like my Pſalm,
No Muſick like my Bell.
VII.
To praiſe the L [...]d did I abound,
(So far, as Sternhold goes:)
And, leſt my Lips ſhou'd ſpoil the Sound,
I prais'd him thro' my Noſe.
[33]VIII.
Tho' wicked Folk might laugh and ſneer,
And be to Mirth full prone;
Yet to the Saints it was right dear;
For why?—the Goſpel tone.
IX.
But Death will not to Sound give Way,
To Muſick not incline:
For, if he wou'd for any ſtay,
He ſure had ſtay'd for mine.
X.
Tho' now o'erwhelm'd with Mire and Clay,
The Pit doth me retain;
Yet do I hope to ſee a Day
Of getting up again.
XI.
Juſt ſo, when Folks at Church are found,
(For this is good and wiſe)
There is a Time to ſit ye down,
And eke a Time to riſe.
[34]XII.
And O! may ev'ry Reader kind
Beſtow one Tear, or Sigh;
For ſure 'twill touch him near, to find
That mortal Man ſhou'd die.
XIII.
And die he muſt; 'tis vain to plead
Wit, Scholarſhip, or Pride:
Great Sternhold, Hopkins, all are fled!
And I, their Servant, died!
Memento mori.
ANACREONTICK.
‘Io! Bacche!’ Hor.
[35]SINCE it is decreed by Fate,
Friends muſt ſever, ſoon or late;
Darkling to their Lodgings roam;
Stagger to their longeſt Home;
Of all Deities the beſt,
Bacchus! hear a Son's Requeſt!
Let me metamorphos'd be,
Into ſome wide-ſpreading Tree;
In ſome pleaſant flow'ry Glade,
With my Branches form a Shade.
Lovers there may bleſs my Boughs;
Topers, merrily carouze.
When, mature and bulky grown,
Thoughtleſs Swains ſhall hew me down;
May the Carver, friendly Soul!
Form of me a curious Bowl.
[36]
On the large capacious Round,
Somewhere let my Buſt be found:
That, when once the jovial Crew
Shall my honeſt Viſage view;
It may kindle freſh Deſire,
And a mighty Goût inſpire.
Near it, be ſome Foliage ſtrewn;
Foliage of the Vine alone.
Let ſome little Bacchus join,
Such as on a Country Sign.
But, with all this Art and Care,
Be it large, as well as fair:
Elſe, however neat, the Bowl
Ne'er can pleaſe the thirſty Soul.
Let it, (if it can be ſo)
Hold more, than it ſeems to do.
Let it ſo capacious be,
That it ſeem to hold a Sea!
Thus may Bacchus hence remain
Tyrant of the leſſer Main.
[37]
Uſe the Refuſe, I enjoin,
For the Service of the Vine.
Let my Boughs ſupport the Tree,
In its weakly Inſancy.
What remains, may be of Uſe
To contain th' unripen'd Juice:
Forming Butts, and all that may
Profit, in the Toping way.
Thus may I be lov'd again
By the Care deceiving Train.
'Tis my Study, Day and Night,
'Tis my only Heart's Delight,
How I may of Service be
To my Dear Fraternity.
Whilſt I live—I'll do my beſt:
Bacchus grant, O grant the reſt!—
To Mr POPE, ON His DUNCIAD.
[38]‘Urit enim fulgore ſuo— ’Hor.
FAin wou'd ſucceſsleſs Folly blame
Thy matchleſs Works, and thee;
And Envy labours to defame
The Charms, ſhe grieves to ſee:
Merit, like thine, by theſe beſet,
May bleſs their dull Deſigns;
The ſparkling Di'mond fixt in Jet,
With added Luſtre ſhines.
O! Pope, each friend kind Heav'n beſtows,
That can thy Fame increaſe:
Next them, thrice happy in the Foes,
'Twere ev'n Diſgrace to pleaſe!
[39]
With puny Wit, and Spite profound,
The Tribe its Shame purſues;
As Bees, to dart a trivial Wound,
Their little Lives would loſe.
'Tis theirs, with Self-condemning guilt,
To level harmleſs Sneers:
'Tis thine, like Phoebus, where thou wilt,
To fix the Aſs's Ears.
EVE'S Speech in Milton, upon her Expulſion out of PARADISE.
[40]O Mournful Meſſage! ſuch tranſcendent Pain
Not Death cou'd give, nor Expectation feign!
Muſt I then leave theſe bliſsful Walks, and Bow'rs.
My teeming Fruit-trees, and my rip'ning Flow'rs?
Each verdant Lawn, and each delightful Grove,
Where I was wont, where Gods might chuſe, to rove?
Thoſe Pines, and Cedars, which luxuriant riſe,
And each fair Object that firſt met theſe Eyes?
Yet here I hop'd to watch the ſpringing Train;
Here ſooth my Fate, and mitigate my Pain;
And here, abandon'd Wretch! at leaſt, to know
A lazy Grief, an lndolence of Woe.—
Ye Flow'rs whoſe nicer Frame, whoſe ſubtile Veins
Refuſe the Moiſture of leſs fertile Plains!
Ye Plants, which in no vulgar Soil can riſe;
Or bear the Impulſe of inclement Skies!
[41] Who now, with glad'ning Streams, your Shoots ſhall raiſe;
Or lead, to wanton in the ſolar Blaze?
Who teach your Tints the kindly'ſt Change to know,
And, by a juſt ſucceſſion, doubly glow?
To each your Names my early Fancy gave;
And ſtrove, from Fate, your Embryo-leaves to ſave.
To you, at Ev'n I ſtrict attendance paid;
To you, in cool of early Dawn, I ſtray'd.
Adieu, frail Beauty's! doom'd no more to ſhare
My Ev'ning's Labour, or my Morning's Care!
And O my bliſsful Home! my nuptial Bow'r!
Dear conſcious Scene of many a tender Hour!
Thee to adorn, I cull'd, with pleaſing Toil,
The faireſt Produce of the choiceſt Soil:
Round thee, the Vi'let blows, the Myrtle blooms,
The Jaſmine twines,—to laviſh ſoft Perfumes:
There breaths the Roſe; and, in ſweet Streams, diſtill
The lovely Languor's of the faint Jonquill.
How ſhall I then thy fragrant Shelter change,
O'er dreary Wilds, and unknown Scenes to range?
How leave this purer Air, theſe Fruits ſublime,
For the groſs Product of a coarſer Clime?
Where Earth and Air refuſe ſuch ſoft Supplies:
Ungrateful Deſarts, and unfriendly Skies!
How ſhall I part!
JUDITH'S SONG.
[42]THen, fir'd with Zeal, the Warriour Dame began,
And thro' applauding Crouds her Accents ran.
Ye reſcu'd Throngs! your tuneful Tribute bring,
Raiſe the faint Voice, and ſweep the ſlighted String;
Your various Arts, in loftieſt Strains, diſplay;
A Theme like mine requires no vulgar Lay;
HE is my Theme, whoſe great Commands prevail,
When Courage, Vigour, Art and Numbers fail;
At whoſe reſiſtleſs Voice unſinew'd, yield
The well-try'd Army, and well-marſhall'd Field:
Led by whoſe Hand, a ſafe Retreat I found,
Tho' Nations rag'd, tho' Millions ſtorm'd around.
From northern Mountains, a ſtupendous Throng
Of conqu'ring Troops, proud Aſſur trail'd along:
Whence, Torrents ſtop'd forſook their wonted Shore,
And, bright with Arms, our Hills look'd green no more.
Inflam'd with Rage, with airy Projects vain,
He threaten'd Seas of Blood, and Hills of Slain,
That Flames ſhould ravage, where the Sword ſhou'd ſpare,
Nor Age, nor Sex redeem the Young or Fair:
[43] The Babe ſhou'd ſtain, with harmleſs Blood, the Sands,
Torn from the Mother's Breaſt,and trembling Hands,
Not the ſoft Maid his harden'd Breaſt ſhou'd move,
Too ſierce for Pity, as too rude for Love.
Yet cou'd our God, his boaſted Pow'r diſarm,
Give manly Fury to a Female Arm!
Not ſanguine Youth, nor tall Gigantick Might,
Fell'd the dire Tyrant in a dubious Fight:
Throughout his Camp, no hoſtile Fires there flew,
No Poiſon rag'd, nor miſſive Jav'lin flew,
'Twas Love's ſoft Flame, (and who cou'd Love controul?)
'Twas Beauty's Darts, o'ercame his yielding Soul,
'Twas Judith's Face—She left her gloomy Veil,
While envious Cuſtom wou'd her Charms conceal:
Her ſparkling Eyes, with Tears familiar grown,
She gayly taught, an Office long unknown;
Chearful She laid her ſable Weeds aſide,
And, tho' She ſhone, She ſhone for Iſrael's Pride;
She bade her Robe wave wanton with the Wind,
Within the Purple Tyre her Locks confin'd,
Enſlav'd the Tyrant with the circling Toy,
And taught the ſilken Texture to deſtroy;
[44] Her well-plac'd Gems, his fault'ring Soul o'erthrew,
Her Charms diſarm'd him, and her Faulchion ſlew.
The deſp'rate Scene of Death, her Hands diſplay'd,
Loſt in Amaze, the Perſian Chiefs ſurvey'd;
Chill'd with cold Fear the ſofter Mede beheld:
Yet own'd her Courage, as her Charms, excell'd.
From either Camp ſhrill Clamours pierc'd the Sky,
The Shrieks of Sorrow, and the Shouts of Joy:
Here, the gay Sounds of mirthfulBands were known,
There, the wild Horrours of an Hoſt o'er thrown.
Stretch'd on the Plain the ſlaughter'd Victims lie,
Who impious dar'd JEHOVAH's Aid defy.
'Twas HE alone their haughty Rage cou'd quell,
By HIM the Victors fought, the vanquiſh'd fell;
They fought, by HIM, with ev'ry Pow'r endu'd,
Force, when they ſtruck, and Speed, when they purſu'd.
HIS Praiſes let me ſing, whoſe might divine
No Pow'r can limit, and no Tongue define!
Be HE by Age ador'd, ador'd by Youth,
Whoſe Works are wonders, and whoſe Words are Truth!
HE ſpake—the Duſt an human Form receiv'd:
HE breath'd—that human Form reſpir'd and liv'd.
[45] Who ſhall, great God! THY ſov'reign Will reſtrain?
Man, Duſt, or Nothing, as THY Words ordain!
Tho' Earth's Foundations at THY ſight give Place;
Tho' deep-fix'd Mountains skip before THY Face;
Quick at THY Breath tho' ſlinty Rocks decay,
And flow, like Wax, in liquid Folds away:
Yet gentle Mercy, to THY People ſhewn,
Endears THY Sway, and gilds THY awful Throne:
And, on the pious Suppliant, pleas'd to ſhine,
Protects him, fearleſs midſt a Pow'r like THINE.
What tho' with Gums, our Altars ſmoke in vain,
The Fumes of Incenſe, and the Fat of ſlain;
Tho' Worſhip's Pomp THOU can'ſt regardleſs ſee,
And Earth's rich Fragrance breaths noſweets to THEE:
Bliſs ſtill ſucceeds, when righteous Hands revere,
The Mind untainted, and the Heart ſincere.
Peace to all ſuch! but who with impious Arms,
Againſt THY Iſrael raiſe unjuſt Alarms,
Shall feel THY Angel with unpitying Hand,
Scatter Diſeaſe, and Tortures thro' the Land:
Nor e'er returning Peace their ſpirits chear,
Raiſe the ſad Heart, or ſtay the falling Tear.
The TEA-TABLE.
[46]WHEN laſt I ſaw the lovely Maid,
'Twas near the Noon of Day;
When riſing Nymphs their Fancy aid
With Scandal—and Bohea.
The pictur'd Urn an equal Share
Diffus'd, to all around:
O! that in ev'ry Court there were
But Half the Juſtice found!
Sudden the melting Sweet ſubſides,
Like Zembla's Hills of Snow;
When from the Heav'ns deſcending Tides
Their glitt'ring Tops o'er-ſlow.
The curling Steams, around the Place
Exhale a nice perfume:
And, from Selinda's beauteous Face,
Call forth celeſtial Bloom.
[47]
And cou'd, alas! deſtructive prove,
A Nymph, ſo form'd to pleaſe;
So like ſome new-born Queen of Love,
Amidſt her infant Seas?
From Bacchus, ſprightly Cups our Thoughts
A careleſs Pleaſure ſhare:
Ah! why ſhou'd Cytherea's Draughts
Refine the Soul to Care?
Yet thence, I felt my Pangs renew,
My Bloom, my Life decay:
And, like the gentle Herb's I drew,
My Spirits ſink away.
Whoe'er, from bright Selinda's Hand,
The fatal Gift obtain'd,
Have ſince, expos'd to her Command,
Ten thouſand Woes ſuſtain'd.
Sure, if Enchantreſſes there are,
Whom tortur'd Hearts obey,
Such only are the blooming Fair,
The only Philtre, Tea.
[...]
[47] [...]
INSCRIPTION.
To the Memory Of A. L. Eſquire, Juſtice of the Peace for this County
[48]Who, in the whole Courſe of his Pilgrimage
Thro' a trifling ridiculous World,
Maintaining his proper Dignity,
Notwithſtanding the Scoffs of Ill-diſpos'd Perſons,
And Wits of the Age,
That ridicul'd his Behaviour,
Or cenſur'd his Breeding;
Following the Dictates of Nature,
Deſiring to eaſe the afflicted,
Eager to ſet the Priſoner at Liberty,
Without having for his End
The Noiſe, or Report ſuch Things generally cauſe
In the World,
(As he was ſeen to perform them of none)
But the ſole Relief and Happineſs,
Of the Party in distreſs;
[49] Himſelf reſting Eaſy,
When He cou'd render that ſo;
Not griping, or pinching himſelf,
To hoard up Superfluities;
Not coveting to keep in his Poſſeſſion
What gives more Diſquietude, than Pleaſure;
But charitably diffuſing it
To all round about him:
Making the moſt ſorrowful Countenance
To Smile,
In his Preſence;
Always beſtowing more than he was ask'd,
Always imparting before he was deſir'd;
Not Proceeding in this Manner,
Upon every trivial ſuggeſtion,
But the moſt mature, and ſolemn Deliberation;
With an incredible Preſence, and undauntedneſs
Of Mind;
With an inimitable Gravity and Economy
Of Face;
Bidding loud defiance
To Politeneſs and the Faſhion,
Dar'd let a F [...]t.
To SELINDA Sailing.
[50]SEE, my Selinda, how the Groves
Deceive th' ill-judging Eye!
And, as the Boat more nimbly moves,
More ſwiftly ſeem to fly.
So to your Slave with Speed runs on
The Day, when you are near;
But O! how tedious, when you're gone,
The ling'ring Hours appear!
What ſecret Cauſe, Selinda, trace,
Can ſuch Deceit impart:—
The Hours have ſure an equal Pace,
But ah!—not ſo my Heart.
To SELINDA.
An Apology for having cele⯑brated Others.
[51]PLATO, who to Perfection brought,
And made of gentle Love a Duty,
Wiſe Plato's Rules have gravely taught
To ſcale by Steps to perfect Beauty.
II.
Long had I ſtrove, with equal Care,
In thought ſome perfect Form to find;
I ſtole a Grace from ev'ry Fair,
To deck the Charmer in my Mind.
III.
Guiltleſs of Love! 'Twas hence I ſought
To praiſe the Sex with nicer Art:
Reſolv'd, the Form my Fancy wrought
Alone, when found, ſhou'd move my Heart.
[52]IV.
From ev'ry fragrant Beauty known
The Bees thus furniſh out their Hive;
To None confin'd; intent alone
On the rich compound, they contrive.
V.
Like Mancha's Knight, I form'd a Fair,
My Proweſs in her Cauſe to ſhew:
Nor gueſs'd a real Nymph cou'd ſhare,
Much leſs, engroſs my Heart, like YOU.
VI.
Hence then, Selinda, you'll diſcover,
(If not, the ſprightlier Muſe may ſhew it,)
That then the Poet made the Lover;
As now, the Lover makes the Poet.
CUPID and PLUTUS.
[53]WHen Celia, Love's eternal Foe,
To rich old Gomez firſt was marry'd;
And angry Cupid came to know,
His Shafts had err'd, his Bow miſ-carry'd;
II.
He ſigh'd, he wept, he hung his Head,
On the cold Ground, full ſad, he laid him;
When Plutus, there by Fortune led,
In this deſponding Plight ſurvey'd him.
III.
And ſure, he cry'd, you'll own at laſt
Your boaſted Pow'r by mine exceeded:
Say, wretched Boy, now all is paſt,
How little She your Efforts heeded.
IV.
If with Succeſs you wou'd aſſail,
Gild, Youngſter, doubly gild your Arrows:
Little the feather'd Shafts avail,
Tho' wing'd from Mamma's Doves and Sparrows.
[54]V.
What tho' each Reed, each Arrow grew,
Where Venus herſelf; depend on't,
Twere more for Uſe, for Beauty too,
A Di'mond ſparkled at the End on't.
VI.
Peace, Plutus, Peace!—the Boy reply'd;
Were not my Arts by your's infeſted,
I cou'd each other Pow'r deride,
And rule this Circle, unmoleſted.
VII.
See yonder Pair! no worldly views
In Chloe's gen'rous Breaſt reſided:
Love bade her the ſpruce Valet chuſe,
And ſhe by potent Love was guided.
VIII.
For this! ſhe quits her golden Dreams,
In her gilt Coach no more ſhe ranges;
And her rich Crimſon, bright with Gems,
For Cheeks impearl'd with Tears, ſhe Changes.
IX.
Tho' ſordid Celia own'd your Pow'r,
Think not ſo monſtrous my diſgrace is:
You gain'd this Nymph—that very Hour,
I gain'd a Score in diff'rent Places.
Written under a LADY'S Name on a Window.
[55]THree Brilliants fair Selinda grac'd;
(There Love's Artill'ry lies;)
One from her ſnowy Finger blaz'd;
Two ſparkled in her Eyes.
The firſt, which ſhone with fainter Rays,
Cou'd here her Name impart:
The others drew her charming Face
More deeply, on my Heart.
The SNUFF-BOX.
[56]IMmortal Parnel has divinely ſung,
How from the plaſtic Hand Pandora ſprung.—
The Deities conſulting join'd their Care
To grace with all their Arts the riſing Fair:
By ev'ry God ſome Bleſſing was beſtow'd;
From each bright Goddeſs ſome Perfection flow'd:
Ambitious thoſe, to form the Pattern well;
Theſe, each to view her Attribute excell.
Venus, elate with hourly Conqueſt grown,
Jealous of Gifts that might Tranſcend her own,
Extending far the Pow'rs of Air and Mien,
Juſt form'd a Goddeſs, where ſhe meant a Queen:
Yet ſaw each Grace in ſuch Perfection join,
That, with diſtinguiſh'd Luſtre, none cou'd ſhine:
Like Jewels, each reflecting various Rays,
Their Colours diff'rent, but alike their Blaze.
Thus ſhone Selinda, when, with matchleſs Pow'r,
To all around the poliſh'd Box ſhe bore.
Love ſure had there his treaſur'd Ills confin'd,
And to the Nymph the fatal Gift conſign'd:
[57] That thence his Snares, conceal'd in pungent grains,
Might to ſoft Hearts convey his pleaſing Pains.
With ev'ry ſhare ſhe dealt a latent Wound,
While in my Breaſt ſuperiour Pangs I found.
O wou'd the Fair that glitt'ring Toy impart,
And eaſe the Anguiſh of a wounded Heart!
For in that radiant Manſion Hope remains,
And who acquires the firſt, the laſt obtains.
The ENCHANTRESS.
Anacreontick.
[58]CUPID, on a Summer's Day,
On the flow'ry Herbage lay;
Underneath the myrtle Shade,
Muſing on the am'rous Trade.
Round him, in Diſorder ſtrewn,
All his warlike Stores were thrown:
Little Spears, and ſubtle Darts,
Such as pierce the ſofteſt Hearts.
Such to grace their Piece or Strain
Painters draw or Poets feign.
Hail, he cry'd, my fav'rite Seats!
Pleaſing Glooms! and ſoft Retreats!
Deck'd with all that's ſweet or fair!
Pleaſures, which I ſeldom ſhare!
Other Deities are bleſt,
They have each their time of Reſt;
But the time I never knew,
When I had not—What to do.
[59] From this End o'th World to t'other,
Mamma bids me make a Pother;
Or She reaches down the Rod,
Cauſe I am but tiny God—
From theſe Cares to ſet me free,
I'll create a Deputy.
In fair Albion Iſle renown'd,
Is a certain Lady found,
Furniſh'd well with ev'ry Grace,
That adorns my Mother's Face.
Then her Eyes! no Rivals know:
None—but what her Glaſs can ſhew.
They ſupply the diſtant Sun,
Have more Hearts, than I, undone.
Phoebus ne'er approaches nigh,
Since She can his Pow'r ſupply;
Phoebus will not; why ſhou'd I?
Yet to make her Pow'r divine,
And the more reſemble mine,
I'll a ſhare of Darts conſign.
She their Buſineſs underſtands,
She ſhall take it of my Hands—
Full of's Errand up he roſe,
In a Trice to Silvia goes.
[60] Quick his Pinions beat on high,
As the Lark's that ſcales the Sky,
As my Heart, when Silvia's nigh.
Thus, aſſur'd he muſt prevail,
(Pow'r's a Gift that ne'er can fail)
Thrice he raps—then tells his Tale.
Here my Muſe muſt change the ſtrain,
Female Fury to explain,
Terms abrupt, and broken Lays
Beſt will ſuit the Scolding Phraſe.
—Pray, Sir Cupid, let me know,
Can I wield your filthy Bow?
Can I—O ye odious Boy!
Your rough Implements employ?—
I'm no Amazon, nor can
Act the Wonders—of a Man—
Go—fantaſtick Witling—pray go—
Whence you came—I'm no Virago—
Theſe, he cry'd (with Aſpect ſour,)
Keep, in ev'ry Shape, their Pow'r.
So you wo'nt the Gift refuſe,
Be they—e'en whate'er you chuſe.
The Points may form ye—Jove knows what—
The Points are Gold—fair Maid—mind that.
[61] Speak the word, the wanton cries,
Hence a Snuff-box ſhall ariſe:
Then the Feather, plac'd with Care,
May Demoliſh—from your Hair:
And the Sticks—while Ten is counting—
Form ye Fan-ſticks—fit for mounting.
Not Mamma—I needs muſt tell ye—
Can in guiding theſe, excell ye;
Which conducted by your Art,
Shall a ſurer Fate Impart,
Than they cou'd, whence once a Dart—
Agreed! 'twas done—ye Beaus beware
Of whate'er ſurrounds the Fair!
Who knows what, to pleaſe the Dame,
Cupid's other Darts became?—
'Tis a Hazard, I aver,
To receive a Pin of Her.
Je-ne-sçai-quoi.
In Imitation of Ld Rocheſter's POEM upon Nothing.
[62]YE Sages all! no longer vainly try
To each perplexing Doubt to make reply,
But juſtly ſolve it with a Je-ne-ſcai-quoi.
II.
Dear happy Phraſe, to ancient Times unknown!
Subſtantial Forms have long uſurp'd thy Throne,
And ſubtle Matter reign'd, with Glory not its own.
III.
When Reaſon's Optics can no farther ſee,
Then Fancy's only muſt of Service be,
And Fancy's airy Schemes unite at laſt in Thee.
IV.
O'er upper Worlds exulting Sophiſt's roam,
Till, where they firſt ſet out, at laſt they come;
And reck'ning up their Gains find thee the total Sum.
[63]V.
Unnumber'd Folio's, big with Wit's Pretence,
Giants in Stature, but mere Dwarfs in Senſe,
Such Knowledge only yield, as thou could'ſt beſt diſpenſe.
VI.
Ah! wou'd thy Friends confeſs thy gentler Sway,
Their Iliads vaſt a Nut-ſhell might convey;
Their Long heroick ſtrains might ſhrink to Namby's Lay.
VII.
What's Wit, the wiſe Man's Scorn, the Poet's Pride,
By thoſe whoſe wants are greateſt, moſt enjoy'd?
Some-thing to Madneſs much, and more to thee ally'd.
VIII.
Thou under various Names art ſtill the ſame,
The Quaker's Light, the fiery Zealot's Aim,
The Poet's fancy'd Muſe, the Lover's fancy'd Flame.
IX.
Under thy Shield the Critick launches free,
Diſcovers Charms which no one elſe can ſee,
Or damns, triumphant when ſecur'd by thee.
[64]X.
Beneath thy Guard the Envious Mind can trace
A Secret Blemiſh in Selinda's Face;
Or in Melanthe's Mien, the Lover find a Grace.
XI.
E'en Beauty's Charms thro' various Colours ſhewn,
Diff'rent in each is ſtill by ſome-thing Known,
Some-thing, ſecure to pleaſe, expreſt by thee alone.
XII.
The Sceptick ſtrove thy gen'ral claim to ſhew,
Diſown'd by Moderns, yet from thee we know
Their wild Debates aroſe, to thee at laſt muſt flow.
XIII.
What makes the reſtleſs ſlight his preſent Store?
What makes the Miſer daily ſtrive for more?
Wou'd they the Truth confeſs, they muſt confeſs thy Pow'r.
XIV.
However ſtor'd with Good, or void of Ill
Our Lives appear; yet thou art wanting ſtill,
To mend the taſteleſs Draught, to gild th' unſightly Pill.
VERSES to a LADY.
Together with ſome Colour'd Patterns of Flowers.
[65]MADAM!
THO' rude the Draughts, tho' artleſs ſeem the Lines,
From one unskill'd in Verſe, or in Deſigns;
Oft' has Good-Nature been the Fool's Defence,
And honeſt Meaning gilded Want of Senſe.
Fear not, tho' Flow'rs and Beauty grace my Lay,
To praiſe one Fair, another ſhall decay.
No Lilly, bright with painted Foliage, here,
Shall only languiſh, when Selinda's near:
A Fate revers'd no ſmiling Roſe ſhall know,
Nor with reflected Luſtre doubly glow—
Praiſes, which languiſh, when apply'd to You,
Where flatt'ring Schemes ſeem obviouſly true.
Yet ſure your Sex is near to Flow'rs ally'd,
Alike in Softneſs, and alike in Pride:
[66] Foes to retreat, and ever fond to ſhine,
Both ruſh to Danger, and the Shades decline;
Expos'd, the ſhort-liv'd Pageants of a Day,
To painted Flies, or glitt'ring Pops a Prey:
Chang'd with each Wind, nor one ſhort Day the ſame,
Each clouded Sky affects their tender Frame.
In glaring Chloe's man-like Taſte and Mien,
Are the groſs ſplendors of the Tulip ſeen:
Diſtant they ſtrike, inelegantly gay,
To the near View no pleaſing Charms diſplay.
To form the Nymph a vulgar Wit muſt join,
As coarſer Soils will moſt the Flow'r refine.
Ophelia's Beauties let the Jaſmine paint,
Too faintly ſoft, too nicely elegant.
Around, with ſeeming Sanctity, endu'd,
The Paſſion-flow'r may beſt expreſs the Prude.
Like the gay Roſe, too rigid Silvia ſhines,
While, like it's guardian Thorn, her Virtue joins—
Happy the Nymph! from all their Failures free,
Happy the Nymph! in whom their Charms agree.
Faint theſe Productions, till you bid diſcloſe,
The Pink new Splendors, and freſh Tints the Roſe:
And yet condemn not trivial Draughts like theſe,
Form'd to improve, and make ev'n Trifles pleaſe.
[67] A Pow'r like Your's minuter Beauties warms,
And yet can blaſt the moſt aſpiring Charms:
Thus at the Rays whence other Objects ſhine,
The Taper ſickens, and it's Flames decline.
When by your Art the purple Vi'let lives,
And the pale Lilly ſprightlier Charms receives:
Garters to me ſhall glow inferiour far,
And with leſs pleaſing Luſtre ſhine the Star.
Let ſerious Triflers, fond of Wealth or Fame,
On Toils, like theſe, beſtow too ſoft a Name;
Each gentler Art with wiſe Indiff'rence view,
And ſcorn one Trifle, millions to purſue:
More artful I, their ſpecious Schemes deride,
Fond to pleaſe you, by you in theſe employ'd;
A nobler Task, or more ſublime Deſire
Ambition ne'er cou'd form, nor Pride inſpire.
The Sweets of tranquil Life, and rural Eaſe
Amuſe ſecurely, nor leſs juſtly pleaſe.
Where gentle Pleaſure ſhews her milder Pow'r,
Or blooms in Fruit, or ſparkles in the Flow'r;
Smiles in the Groves, the raptur'd Poet's Theme,
Flows in the Brook, his Naiad of the Stream;
Dawns, with each happier Stroke the Pencil gives,
And, in each livelier Image, ſmiling lives;
[68] Is heard, when Silvia ſtrikes the warbling Strings,
Selinda ſpeaks, or Philomela ſings:
Breaths with the Morn; attends, propitious Maid,
The ev'ning Ramble, and the noon-day Glade;
Some viſionary Fair ſhe cheats our View,
Then only vig'rous, when ſhe's ſeen like You.
Yet Nature ſome for ſprightlier Joys deſign'd,
For brighter Scenes, with nicer Care, refin'd.
When the gay Jewel radiant Streams ſupplies,
And vivid Brilliants meet your brighter Eyes;
When Dreſs and Pomp around the Fancy play,
By Fortune's dazling Beauties born away:
When Theatres for you the Scenes forego,
And the Box bows, obſequiouſly low:
How dull the Plan which Indolence has drawn,
The moſſy Grotto, or the ſlow'ry Lawn!
Tho' roſeate Scents in ev'ry Wind exhale,
And ſilvan Warblers charm in ev'ry Gale.
Of theſe be HER'S the Choice, whom all approve,
And whom, but thoſe who envy, all muſt love:
By Nature model'd, by Experience taught,
To know, and pity ev'ry female Fault:
[69] Pleas'd ev'n to hear her Sex's Virtuews ſhewn,
And blind to none's Perfections, but her own:
Whilſt, humble Fair! of theſe too few ſhe knows,
Yet owns too many for the World's Repoſe:
From Wit's wild Petulance ſerenely free,
Yet bleſt in all that Nature can decree,
Not like a Fire, which, whilſt it burns, alarms;
A modeſt Flame, that gently ſhines and warms;
Whoſe Mind, in ev'ry Light, can Charms diſplay,
With Wiſdom ſerious, and with Humour gay;
Juſt as her Eyes in each bright Poſture warm,
And fiercely ſtrike, or languiſhingly charm:
Such are your Honours—mention'd to your Coſt,
Thoſe leaſt can hear them, who deſerve them moſt:
Yet ah! forgive—the leſs inventive Muſe,
If e'er ſhe ſing, a copious Theme muſt chuſe.
HARBOROUGH. October 7th, 1736.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3416 Poems upon various occasions Written for the entertainment of the author and printed for the amusement of a few friends prejudic d in his favour By William Shenstone gent. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5ABC-C