AN EPISTLE To the Right Honourable Sir ROBERT WALPOLE.
[5]STILL let low Wits, who Senſe nor Honour prize,
Sneer at all Gratitude, all Truth diſguiſe;
At living Worth, becauſe alive, exclaim,
Inſult the Exil'd, and the Dead defame!
Such paint what Pity veils in private Woes,
And what we ſee with Grief, with Mirth expoſe;
Studious to urge—(whom will mean Authors ſpare?)
The Child's, the Parent's, and the Conſort's Tear:
Unconſcious of what Pangs the Heart may rend,
To loſe what they have ne'er deſerv'd—a Friend.
[6] Such, ignorant of Facts, invent, relate,
Expos'd perſiſt, and anſwer'd ſtill debate:
Such, but by Foils, the cleareſt Luſtre ſee,
And deem aſperſing Others, praiſing Thee.
FAR from theſe Tracks my honeſt Lays aſpire,
And greet a gen'rous Heart with gen'rous Fire.
Truth be my Guide! Truth, which thy Virtue claims!
This, nor the Poet, nor the Patron ſhames:
When Party-Minds ſhall loſe contracted Views,
And Hiſt'ry queſtion the recording Muſe;
'Tis this alone to After-Times muſt ſhine,
And ſtamp the Poet and his Theme divine.
LONG has my Muſe, from many a mournful Cauſe,
Sung with ſmall Pow'r, nor ſought ſublime Applauſe;
From that great Point ſhe now ſhall urge her Scope;
On that fair Promiſe reſt her future Hope;
Where Policy, from State, Illuſion clear,
Can through an open Aſpect ſhine ſincere;
Where Science, Law, and Liberty depend,
And own the Patron, Patriot, and the Friend;
[7] (That Breaſt to feel, that Eye on Worth to gaze,
That Smile to cheriſh, and that Hand to raiſe!)
Whoſe beſt of Hearts her beſt of Thoughts inflame,
Whoſe Joy is Bounty, and whoſe Gift is Fame.
WHERE, for Relief, flies Innocence diſtreſt?
To you, who chaſe Oppreſſion from th' Oppreſt:
Who, when Complaint to you alone belongs,
Forgive your own, tho' not a People's Wrongs:
Who ſtill make publick Property your Care,
And thence bid private Grief no more deſpair.
ASK they what State your ſhelt'ring Care ſhall own?
'Tis Youth, 'tis Age, the Cottage, and the Throne:
Nor can the Priſon 'ſcape your ſearching Eye,
Your Ear ſtill opening to the Captive's Cry.
Nor leſs was promis'd from thy early Skill,
Ere Power enforc'd Benevolence of Will!
To Friends refin'd, thy private Life adher'd
By thee improving, ere by thee prefer'd.
Well hadſt thou weigh'd what Truth ſuch Friends afford,
With thee reſigning, and with thee reſtor'd.
[8] Thou taught'ſt them All extenſive Love to bear,
And now Mankind with thee their Friendſhips ſhare.
AS the rich Cloud by due Degrees expands,
And ſhowers down Plenty thick on ſundry Lands,
Thy ſpreading Worth in various Bounty fell,
Made Genius flouriſh, and made Art excell.
HOW many, yet deceiv'd, all Power oppoſe?
Their Fears increaſing, as decreaſe their Woes;
Jealous of Bondage, while they Freedom gain,
And moſt oblig'd moſt eager to complain.
BUT well we count our Bliſs, if well we view,
When Power Oppreſſion, not Protection grew;
View preſent Ills that puniſh diſtant Climes;
Or bleed in Mem'ry here from ancient Times.
MARK firſt the Robe abus'd Religion wore,
Storied with Griefs, and ſtain'd with human Gore!
What various Tortures, Engines, Fires, reveal,
Study'd, empower'd, and ſanctify'd by Zeal?
[9]
STOP here my Muſe!—Peculiar Woes deſcry!
Bid 'em in ſad Succeſſion ſtrike thy Eye!
Lo, to her Eye the ſad Succeſſion ſprings!
She looks, ſhe weeps, and, as ſhe weeps, ſhe ſings.
SEE the doom'd Hebrew of his Stores bereft!
See holy Murder juſtify the Theft!
His ravag'd Gold ſome uſeleſs Shrine ſhall raiſe!
His Gems on ſuperſtitious Idols blaze!
His Wife, his Babe, deny'd their little Home,
Stripp'd, ſtarv'd, unfriended, and unpity'd roam.
LO, the Prieſt's Hand the Wafer-God ſupplies!
A King by conſecrated Poiſon dies!
SEE Learning range you broad Etherial Plain,
From World to World, and God-like Science gain!
Ah! what avails the curious Search ſuſtain'd,
The finiſh'd Toil, the God-like Science gain'd?
Sentenc'd to Flames th'expanſive Wiſdom fell,
And Truth from Heav'n was Sorcery from Hell.
[10]
SEE Reaſon bid each myſtic Wile retire,
Strike out new Light! and Mark!—the Wiſe admire!
Zeal ſhall ſuch Hereſy, like Learning, hate;
The ſame their Glory, and the ſame their Fate.
Lo, from ſought Mercy, one his Life receives!
Life, worſe than Death, that cruel Mercy gives:
The Man, perchance, who Wealth and Honours bore,
Slaves in the Mine, or ceaſeleſs ſtrains the Oar.
So doom'd are theſe, and ſuch perhaps, our Doom,
Own'd we a Prince (avert it Heaven!) from Rome.
NOR private Worth alone falſe Zeal aſſails;
Whole Nations bleed when Bigotry prevails.
What are ſworn Friendſhips? What are Kindred Ties?
What's Faith with Hereſy? (the Zealot cries.)
See, when War ſinks the thund'ring Cannon's Roar;
When Wounds, and Death, and Diſcord are no more;
When Muſick bids undreading Joys advance,
Swell the ſoft Hour, and turn the ſwimming Dance:
[11] When, to crown theſe, the ſocial Sparkling Bowl
Lifts the chear'd Senſe, and pours out all the Soul;
Sudden he ſends red Maſſacre abroad;
Faithleſs to Man, to prove his Faith to God.
What pure perſuaſive Eloquence denies,
All-drunk with Blood, the arguing Sword ſupplies;
The Sword, which to th' Aſſaſſin's Hand is given!
Th' Aſſaſſin's Hand!—pronounc'd the Hand of Heaven!
Sex bleeds with Sex, and Infancy with Age;
No Rank, no Place, no Virtue ſtops his Rage.
Shall Sword, and Flame, and Devaſtation ceaſe,
To pleaſe with Zeal (wild Zeal!) the God of Peace?
NOR leſs Abuſe has ſcourg'd the Civil State,
When a King's Will became a Nation's Fate.
Enormous Pow'r! Nor noble, nor ſerene;
Now fierce and cruel; now but wild and mean.
See Titles ſold, to raiſe th'unjuſt Supply!
Compell'd the Purchaſe! or be fin'd, or buy!
No public Spirit, guarded well by Laws,
Uncenſur'd cenſures in his Country's Cauſe.
See from the Merchant forc'd th'unwilling Loan!
Who dares deny, or deem his Wealth his own?
[12] Denying, See! where Dungeon-Damps ariſe,
Diſeas'd he pines, and unaſſiſted dies.
Far more than Maſſacre that Fate accurſt!
As of all Deaths the ling'ring is the worſt.
NEW Courts of Cenſure griev'd with new Offence,
Tax'd without Power, and fin'd without Pretence;
Explain'd, at Will, each Statute's wreſted Aim,
'Till Marks of Merit were the Marks of Shame;
So monſtrous!—Life was the ſevereſt Grief,
And the worſt Death ſeem'd welcome for Relief.
IN vain the Subject ſought Redreſs from Law,
No Senate liv'd the partial Judge to awe:
Senates were void, and Senators confin'd
For the great Cauſe of Nature and Mankind;
Who Kings ſuperiour to the People own;
Yet prove the Law ſuperiour to the Throne.
WHO can review, without a gen'rous Tear,
A Church, a State, ſo impious, ſo ſevere;
[13] A Land uncultur'd thro' Polemic Jars,
Rich!—but with Carnage from inteſtine Wars;
The Hand of Induſtry employ'd no more,
And Commerce flying to ſome ſafer Shore;
All Property reduc'd, to Pow'r a Prey,
And Senſe and Learning chas'd by Zeal away?
Who honours not each dear departed Ghoſt,
That ſtrove for Liberty ſo won, ſo loſt:
So well regain'd when God-like William roſe,
And firſt entail'd the Bleſſing George beſtows?
May Walpole ſtill the growing Triumph raiſe,
And bid Theſe emulate Eliza's Days;
Still ſerve a Prince, who, o'er his People Great,
As far tranſcends in Virtue, as in State!
THE Muſe purſues thee to thy rural Seat;
Ev'n there ſhall Liberty inſpire Retreat.
When ſolemn Cares in flowing Wit are drown'd,
And ſportive Chat and ſocial Laughs go round:
Ev'n then, when pauſing Mirth begins to fail,
The Converſe varies to the ſerious Tale.
[14] The Tale pathetic ſpeaks ſome Wretch that owes
To ſome deficient Law reliefleſs Woes.
What inſtant Pity warms thy gen'rous Breaſt?
How all the Legiſlator ſtands confeſs'd?
Now ſprings the Hint! 'tis now improv'd to Thought!
Now ripe! and now to public Welfare brought!
New Bills, which regulating Means beſtow,
Juſtice preſerve, yet ſoft'ning Mercy know:
Juſtice ſhall low vexatious Wiles decline,
And ſtill thrive moſt, when Lawyers moſt repine.
Juſtice from Jargon ſhall refin'd appear,
To Knowledge thro' our native Language clear.
Hence may we learn, no more deceiv'd by Law,
Whence Wealth and Life their beſt Aſſurance draw.
THE freed Inſolvent, with induſtrious Hand,
Strives yet to ſatisfy the juſt Demand:
Thus ruthleſs Men, who wou'd his Pow'rs reſtrain,
Oft what Severity would loſe obtain.
THESE, and a thouſand Gifts, thy Thought acquires,
Which Liberty benevolent inſpires.
[15] From Liberty the Fruits of Law increaſe,
Plenty, and Joy, and all the Arts of Peace.
Abroad the Merchant, while the Tempeſts rave,
Advent'rous ſails, nor fears the Wind and Wave;
At Home untir'd we find th' auſpicious Hand
With Flocks, and Herds, and Harveſts, bleſs the Land:
While there, the Peaſant glads the grateful Soil,
Here mark the Ship-Wright, there the Maſon toil,
Hew, ſquare, and rear magnificent the Stone,
And give our Oaks a Glory not their own!
What Life demands by this obeys her Call,
And added Elegance conſummates all.
Thus ſtately Cities ſtatelier Navies riſe,
And ſpread our Grandeur under diſtant Skies.
From Liberty each nobler Science ſprung,
A Bacon brighten'd, and a Spenſer ſung;
A Clarke and Locke new Tracks of Truth explore,
And Newton reaches Heights unreach'd before.
WHAT Trade ſees Property that Wealth maintain,
Which Induſtry no longer dreads to gain;
[16] What tender Conſcience kneels with Fears reſign'd,
Enjoys her Worſhip, and avows her Mind;
What Genius now from Want to Fortune climbs,
And to ſafe Science ev'ry Thought ſublimes;
What Royal Pow'r, from his ſuperiour State,
Sees public Happineſs his own create;
But kens thoſe Patriot-Souls, to which he owes
Of Old each Source, whence now each Bleſſing flows?
And if ſuch Spirits from their Heav'n deſcend,
And blended flame, to point one glorious End;
Flame from one Breaſt, and thence on Britain ſhine,
What Love, what Praiſe, O Walpole, then is thine?
FINIS.