OCULUS BRITANNIAE, &c.
[]MATRON of arts, and to the bri⯑tiſh youth
Thou ſhining pillar of religious truth,
Sprung from primaeval kings and ſaints divine,
Thy ſacred ear, illuſtrious dame! incline,
Whilſt filial duty wings my youthful lays,
And prompts me forward, ſtudious of thy praiſe.
[2]BUT how ſhall I the mighty theme ſuſtain
Of ALMA'S glories in an equal ſtrain?
Unskill'd in verſe, and to the muſes young,
What God, what angel, will inform my tongue?
Aid me, DELAUNE; inſtruct me, reverend ſire,
With thy own ſacred heat my breaſt inſpire:
O! touch my lips with thy coeleſtial art,
And with the ſame devotion fire my heart.
ENOUGH, enough!—through every kindling vein
Thy god-like fury ſhoots and fires my brain;
The ſame ſtrong impulſe and religious flame,
Which in the pulpit ſhakes thy goodly frame:
[3]And which ſometimes provokes thy righteous heel
To kick obdurate whigs, in rampant zeal:
Like yours, methinks, my eyes in lightning roll,
Like yours, tumultuous raptures lift my ſoul;
Inſpir'd I ſoar beyond my common flight,
And I am either fit to rhime or fight.
IN this divine delirium, to my eyes
Abſtracted forms, and fancied objects riſe;
Whilſt the pleas'd muſe in thoughtful ſilence roves
Through the cool ſhades, and academick groves,
In the clear fountains, and the ſilvan ſprings
Sees the young cygnets dip their ſnowy wings;
Obſerves the ſtreams of ſcience roll along,
Here floats a ſyllogiſm, there a ſong;
[4]Here unborn poems tune the warbling tide,
And problems there, inſtead of gudgeons, glide.
THROUGH theſe religious vallies as I ſtray,
What crouds of ancient worthies throng the way?
The ghoſts of old philoſophers appear,
That once adorn'd the place and flouriſh'd here:
Muſe, tune thy voice, in homage bend thy head,
And pay juſt honours to the learned dead.
SEE! that lean ſpectre! horrible and wan,
Whoſe meagre looks declare the quondam man.
Hail mighty SCOTUS! hail unrival'd ſage!
The pride and glory of the monkiſh age!
Reverſe of bookworm! which on books is fed▪
For books devour'd thee up, and wore thee dead
[5]How didſt thou toil and labour for mankind,
Who twenty folio tomes haſt left behind!
Unlike the modern writers of our land,
Whom every ſhallow wit can underſtand,
So deep your logick flows and ſo profound,
No common plummet can the bottom ſound.
Thy pride it was to ſift the darkeſt themes,
To hood-wink truth and reconcile extremes,
Self-contradicting tenets to maintain,
And prove by reaſon, that all reaſon's vain.
HIM BACON follows, whoſe illuſtrious name
Lives in the annals of recording fame,
That antient monk, renown'd in every part,
For his wiſe Brazen-Head and magick art;
[6]Of late indeed more famous and renown'd,
Since conjurers here are now ſo rarely found.
But ſee! another rev'rend form appears,
Whoſe headleſs trunk provokes my flowing tears;
The ſacred lawn his guſhing blood diſtains;
And with religious horror chills my veins:
Much-injur'd LAUD, religion's boldeſt chief,
A while, great ſhade, indulge the muſe's grief;
O prelate, greatly for the church diſtreſt,
What zeal, what fury could inflame thy breaſt,
The rage of britiſh ſenates to withſtand,
And ſtem the torrent of a factious land?
Yet ſhalt thou not repent the pious deed,
Though deſtin'd by the traytor's ax to bleed:
[7]With BECKET in religious miſchief bold,
A rubrick martyr ſhalt thou ſtand inroll'd;
His annual debt thy
* ſucceſſor ſhall pay,
And crown with ſolemn woe the woeful day.
HERE the fam'd King and confeſſor was born,
Whoſe godly reign coeleſtial gifts adorn,
That royal ſaint, whoſe ſalutiferous hand,
Firſt from the noiſome Evil purg'd the land.
Stupendous art! to pious kings reveal'd,
And witneſs'd by the crouds that have been heal'd;
Such EDWARD was, by gracious heaven deſign'd,
From ſcabs and ulcers to relieve mankind,
[8]Of ſo abſtemious, continent a life,
He ſhun'd the enjoyment of his lawful wife.
From age to age this wondrous art prevail'd,
(When the whole boaſted ſtrength of medicine fail'd)
Through a long race of monarchs, all divine,
'Till but of late it ceas'd with STUART'S line,
Unleſs, adhering to ſome good old wives,
In STUART'S lineal race it ſtill ſurvives.
HERE then, O JAMES! let the long conteſt end,
And on this iſſue let thy birth depend;
In the wide forum of imperial ROME,
Build a large ſtage and bid the lazars come,
By this grand ſecret prove the STUART line,
And let thy cures confirm thy right divine:
[9]If at thy touch the ulcers dye away,
The ſores heal up, and all the ſcabs decay,
In ſpight of BURNET'S tales, and Britain's ſcorn,
Will own thee moſt miraculouſly born.
HAIL ſacred art! the prieſthood's darling theme,
Unlike our late inoculating ſcheme,
That ſtrange inverted Science, raſh and blind,
Which plants diſeaſes, and infects mankind,
Of cruel Turks and infidels the boaſt,
And firſt devis'd on hell's infernal coaſt;
For ſo the
* prieſt aver'd, in holy ſatire,
And prov'd old Nick the firſt inoculator.
[10]BUT who is that in robes of purple dreſt,
Who drops with ſullen pride his mitred creſt!
Mark! how he bears reſentment in his eye,
And damns his ſovereign, as he paſſes by!
Some minion of the court, from favour thrown!
And lo! his form beſpeaks the butcher's ſon!
In every look great WOLSEY ſtands confeſs'd;
See how the riſing paſſion heaves his breaſt!
See! how his eyes with reddening vengeance glow,
And how with haſty ſtrides he ſpurns the ſand below!
FALL down, ye ſons of Chriſt-church, at his feet,
And gratefully your benefactor greet;
[11]For o! remember to his bounteous hand
How much indebted, and oblig'd you ſtand.
He firſt with large endowments did intail
Your loins of mutton, and your butts of ale;
To him you owe the ſoft engaging art
Of pretty ſongs and epigrams ſo ſmart:
'Twas he that took you from the rural plains,
And made you ſcholards, who had elſe been ſwains;
Inſtead of jolly canons, you had now
Perhaps ſome livery worn, or follow'd plow,
Perhaps ſome painful ſervile life have led,
Or in the ſhambles, like himſelf, been bred.
MALICIOUS tongues indeed with cenſures loud
Stile him imperious, turbulent and proud,
[12]Revengeful, cruel, of a ruthleſs mind,
To perſecution, and to rage inclin'd;
In whoredom and pollution uncontroul'd,
And to a proverb arrogantly bold;
A publick drunkard, and a college thief,
In act a brute, an atheiſt in belief:
To luſt, they ſay, he ſacrific'd his breath,
And periſh'd of the foul, venereal death.
SUCH heavy loads of infamy and ſhame
Our bold reformers charge on WOLSEY'S Name;
Proud of their northern hereſies deride
His prieſtly grandeur and religious pride,
Hand down his vices to ſucceeding times,
And make his function aggravate his Crimes.
[13]BUT FIDDES, by ſublimer views inſpir'd,
And with a church-man's indignation fir'd,
Liſts in this great, unhappy prelate's cauſe,
And by more candid rules his picture draws;
Solves all objections which hiſtorians make,
And ſcreens his failings for his function's ſake.
BEHOLD him now, by FIDDES varniſh'd o'er,
Unlike the monſtrous fiend you ſhunn'd before,
His magick pages wipe off every taint,
The atheiſt and the brute becomes a ſaint;
His drunkenneſs is only nature's ſlip,
(For who alas! can from temptation keep?)
His impudence, in courtly language dreſt,
The
* great aſcendant happily expreſs'd;
[14]His rage is only zeal for romiſh laws,
And perſecution is the church's cauſe;
Revenge is taking God almighty's part,
And pride the token of a noble heart.
His whoredom and pollution who can blame,
Since Solomon was guilty of the ſame?
His college-frauds, it muſt be underſtood,
Were well deſign'd, and for the publick good,
To finiſh towers, old ſteeples to repair,
And build religious caſtles in the air:
Nor is he laſt of all that godly croud,
To whom this candid plea has been allow'd.
That of the pox he dy'd, and ſuch like ſtuff,
Great FIDDES ſays 'tis falſe, and that's enough.
[15]SO LAUD by HEYLIN fil'd and poliſh'd bright,
Shines forth an angel of unſpotted light;
Shakes off the ruſt of threeſcore gloomy Years,
And in his volume like a god appears.
ONE pious work, o! FIDDES, ſtill remains,
A theme well worthy your immortal pains;
And ſince in vindications you abound,
As WOLSEY and his GRACE
* have lately found,
To one great church-man more your aid afford,
And let unhappy JUDAS be the third,
In his defence at leaſt it may be ſaid,
That what he did alas! he did for bread,
[16]And err'd poor man! as modern ſwearers cant,
To ſave a numerous family from want:
Doctor, 'twill do; the pious task begin,
Clear up his caſe, and prove the kiſs no ſin;
This will for ever all our foes defeat,
And thy divine APOLOGIES compleat.
TO theſe a various gowned tribe ſucceeds,
Fam'd for their learning, or illuſtrious deeds;
Phyſicians, lawyers, and a medly throng
Of preaching clerks and poets that have ſung,
Logicians that have foil'd the ſtates-man's ſchemes,
And prophets that ſav'd nations by their dreams;
Caſuiſts and ſchool-divines, whoſe myſtick skill
Could alter vice and virtue at their will,
[17]Of right divine prove perſecuting rage,
And tyranny the bleſſing of an age,
Turn pure religion into mortal ſin,
And make the devil to the ſaints a-kin.
BUT ſhall the dead alone engroſs my lays?
O, no; the living ſhall partake my praiſe;
Muſe prune thy pinions for a ſecond flight,
For living heroes claim an equal height.
BUT where, encompaſs'd with a mingled blaze
Of doughty ſculls, ſhall I begin to praiſe?
Where'er around I caſt my wondring eyes,
Heroic bards and ſhining beaux ariſe;
In the ſame jovial common room I ſee
The prim canonic bob and ſmart tupeè;
[18]Grave criticks here on modern authors prey,
And deep logicians puzzle ſenſe away;
Pert crambo-wags with ſubtil ſchool-men joke,
And punſters and divines in conſort ſmoke.
IN this illuſtrious croud, ſo learn'd and wiſe,
BRAZEN, the college tyrant, charms my eyes;
Great muſt his merits be, his virtues choice,
Which five ſucceſſive years gain'd ARRAN'S voice:
In him at leaſt ſome excellence is ſhown,
Fam'd for his brother's parts, if not his own;
His brother's virtues, all divinely bright,
Reflect on him a pale inferiour light:
What for the cauſe his patriot-brother bears,
The learned
Head in
* ordinance declares;
[19]His ſhrewd harangues in ſenate he repeats,
With the ſame zealous pangs his boſom beats;
Oft in his veins he boaſts true-britiſh blood,
And raves devoutly for his country's good;
Of naughty ſtateſmen ecchoes diſmal tales,
And againſt WALPOLE, o'er his bottle, rails.
SO the pale moon is not without her praiſe,
Though from the ſun ſhe borrows all her rays.
NEXT, to DELAUNE, as next to Brazen's heart,
Muſe touch the ſtring, and prove thy utmoſt art:
O! for a pinion from the mantuan ſwan,
To reach the mighty theme, and ſing the man
Who more than forty years, a ſhining ſpace,
Has graced theſe walls, and ſtill vouchſafes to grace:
[20]With various honours crown'd for various arts,
(All far unequal to his great deſerts)
Who wants no virtue, by no vice defaced,
Wiſe, learned, pious, ſober, humble, chaſt,
So ſtrictly honeſt, ſo ſeverely juſt,
And rigidly tenacious of his truſt,
That his integrity ſurmounts my ſong,
And ev'n to name it, is to do him wrong.
FROM ſuch proud heights, o! muſe preſump⯑tous bend,
And to his private qualities deſcend;
Say how his ſoul in converſation ſhines,
Oe'r the third bottle how his wit refines,
How in ſmart jeſts his ſacred lips excel,
What mirth they ſtart, and jocund fables tell,
[21]How grave his looks, how orthodox his dreſs,
Ev'n ſtubborn AMHURST will theſe truths confeſs.
SO Lucifer, when fal'n, was forc'd to own
The bright ſuperior pow'r, that hurl'd him down.
HOW for his college he employs his care,
How helpleſs orphans his protection ſhare,
H—DW—TH and W—S, ſhall ſolemnly declare,
And if ſuperior evidence we need,
H—ES on the goſpel ſhall atteſt the deed;
SM—TH ſhall confirm his oath, if that avail,
And O—N ſtand his ſacramental bail.
[22]BENEATH his care great CLARENDON appear'd,
From all ſurmiſes of corruption clear'd;
He to the preſs the deathleſs work convey'd,
By no baſe bribes, nor partial motives ſway'd;
He ſcorn'd to vary from the written tale,
Nor could the hopes of biſhopricks prevail:
Yet if the foe will ſtill inſult thy name,
And with black ſcandal ſtrive to taint thy fame,
Soon ſhall he bluſh; for HIDE'S impartial ghoſt
Shall viſit earth, to this defamer's coſt,
And purge thy virtue, though the copy's loſt.
FAIN would the muſe, inflam'd with pious zeal,
Millions of other graces ſtill reveal,
[23]All cent'ring in this man, to bleſs the age,
His equal mind and temper void of rage,
His energy in pray'r, his faith ſublime,
His meekneſs, love and candour to a crime;
But conſcious of her weakneſs ſhe declines,
And to ſome college-bard the glorious theme reſigns.
NOR ſhall that hoary ſeer remain unſung,
To whom the reins of Exeter belong,
That learned doctor, and that frugal Head,
Who grudges ev'n himſelf his daily bread,
Of ſo penurious, provident a ſenſe,
He curſes human life for its expence,
And often wiſhes he was under ground,
Rather than loſe a penny in the pound.
[24]Candles are dear, and therefore he thinks beſt
Still with the ſetting ſun to go to reſt,
Unleſs, to finiſh ſomething for his ſhop,
FLETCHER will pay him well for ſitting up:
Yet few, I fear, will think it worth their while,
So languid is his matter and his ſtile,
To publiſh all the volumes he could write;
Poor WH-ST-R was alas! half ruin'd by't.
WITH half a fowl, and half a penny ſmall
He makes a ſober dinner in the hall,
(Such ſlender meals ſuffice his famiſh'd nerves,)
And the minc'd fragment for his ſupper ſerves.
STOOPING with age, he dodders as he goes,
From his red eyes a rheumy torrent flows,
[25]Like winter fruit, his yellow rivel'd skin
Dams up the little blood that creeps within,
Threeſcore and ten have quench'd his vital heat,
And his decaying pulſes ſcarcely beat;
Yet thus diſabled, for the longing dame
he feels the pangs of love, though not the flame;
Fair RAGGABEL, that near his college-gate
Fine china ſells, and tea, and chocolate,
Or mends old tatter'd gowns with matchleſs art,
Shines in his eye, and triumphs in his heart;
Oft to her ſhop the feeble lecher ſtrays,
Toys with her hand, or with her bubbies plays;
On her dear face he rolls his doting eyes,
As ſhe weighs coffee, or the needle plies;
One evening, proſtrate on his tottering knees,
The ſapleſs dotard ſpoke in words like theſe;
[26]BEHOLD, o! faireſt of thoſe gentle maids,
Who with their beauty grace theſe learned ſhades,
Behold! what conqueſts thy perfections gain,
A reverend, aged doctor wears thy chain,
Me whom a college for its Head obeys,
To whom each fellow ſervile homage pays,
Thy beauty captivates, thy charms inthral,
Ev'n at theſe years a ſlave to love I fall.
And o! my deareſt RAGGY, do not quite
Break my old heart, or judge my torments ſlight,
Unlike raw boys who tell you fulſome lies,
Adore this moment, and the next deſpiſe,
Ripen'd with age my paſſion cannot change,
Nor will my years permit my heart to range;
[27]Smile on me then, and with thy blooming charms
Bleſs my deſiring, my impatient arms,
One evening at my lodgings let me prove
With how much truth and conſtancy I love.
THE damſel, though with wit not over-ſtock'd,
With this ſevere reply his reverence ſhock'd;
What pity is it that deſire ſhould laſt,
And the good-will to ſin, when youth is paſt?
Thy paſſions ſtill remain, thrice holy drone,
And ah! I grieve to think the ſting is gone:
Yes, I behold thee with a pitying eye,
And for my ſake, good man! thou ſhalt not dye;
Since at your lodgings you requeſt my ſight,
I'll wait upon you there to morrow night;
[28]Safe in thy hands my virtue I will truſt,
And do, dear doctor, do thy very worſt.
BE not ſo mighty ſmart the don reply'd,
Nor judge ſo raſhly, e'er my ſtrength is try'd,
In me the emblem of a leek is ſeen,
White though my head be turn'd, my tail is green.
BUT whither does the muſe erroneous ſtray,
By tales of love diverted from her way?
GARDINER upbraids my ears with cold neglect,
And from the muſe demands his due reſpect.
FORBEAR, great man, reſtrain thy flowing gall,
Wherefore on me do all theſe cenſures fall?
[29]Why ſhouldſt thou hope for honour from my lays,
When thy own YOUNG forgets to ſing thy praiſe?
WHAT ſhall a patriot loſe his due reward,
Becauſe ill us'd by one ungrateful bard?
Your pardon, ſir; the reaſoning I allow,
And with theſe honours deck your lofty brow
IF ſize and ſtature raiſe a deathleſs name,
How vaſt your praiſe, how bulky is your fame!
Without a rival, ſir, the ſtreets you tread,
Thou greateſt, wittieſt man, now TADLOE'S dead;
Since that huge atlas fell, you reap alone
The thanks of all the
* paviers in the town.
[30]NOR muſt thy praiſe o! TAFFY, be forgot,
Another college prince, and tyrant ſot,
To G—D—R next in learning and in ſize,
Somewhat more honeſt, and almoſt as wiſe;
His ſanguine cheeks with deep vermilion glow,
With antient-britiſh blood his veins o'erflow,
His country's native ire inflames his breaſt,
And hoſtile leeks nod dreadful on his creſt,
Like proud Plinlimmon's height he ſeems to move,
And his broad ſhoulders prop the clouds above.
HEAVEN to this man unuſual vigour gave,
To rule a college obſtinately brave,
[31]Youths all endued with more than vulgar flame,
And ſtubborn as the rocks, from whence they came;
Hard to reſtrain, by nature prone to rage,
No common arm their fury can aſſwage,
So much with ſparks of vengeance they abound,
They knock oppoſing barge-men to the ground,
And like a tempeſt hurl deſtruction round.
FAIN would I next great D—SON rehearſe,
And greet him with new honours in my verſe;
O! might I call him by that awful name,
Which his ſoul covets, and his merits claim!
How would it touch the cockles of my heart
In ordinance to ſee him bear his part,
[32]'Gainſt upſtart maſters wage confederate war,
And
* GOLGOTHA receive another ſtar.
FULL well he knows this office to acquit,
And muſt be own'd for college buſineſs fit,
Oe'r paſſive fellows skill'd to domineer,
And grant to few the favour of his ear.
From BRAZEN and D—E he learnt the arts
To pick their pockets, while he gains their hearts
To be ador'd for breaking all their laws,
And tyrannize with ſafety and applauſe.
SO romiſh prieſts eſteem and reverence gain,
By bidding penance, and impoſing pain;
[33]The well-flogg'd Zealots bleſs their Father's voice,
And in raw backs and aking bones rejoice.
BUT ah! within our walls diſſention reigns,
And modern feuds diſturb the laurel'd plains,
Pert upſtart patriots with rebellious pride,
Spurn at their Heads, and GOLGOTHA deride,
In bold confederate clubs and plots engage,
And youthful whims oppoſe to thoughtful age;
Each day the hoary ſages ſink in pow'r,
And Preſidents and Provoſts ſway no more;
With grumbling tories factious whigs combine,
And againſt D—N—N perverſely join,
Reſolv'd to baulk him of the darling pow'r,
And antient rights of CHARLOT'S ſucceſſor.
[34]WHO after theſe ſhall animate the lyre?
M—TH—R
* do thou my flagging verſe inſpire,
Inſtruct the muſe thy praiſes to rehearſe,
And with thy ſhining deeds adorn my verſe:
Do thou; for ſurely none beſides can tell,
No mortal knows thy merits half ſo well.
BUT I perceive, you frown upon my lays,
And ſullenly reject the proffer'd praiſe,
Content to wither in obſcure retreat,
And unobſerv'd, in plenty drink and eat,
O'er aukward college pedants to preſide,
With private grandeur and monaſtick pride,
[35]In indolence and eaſe to live unknown,
And nod, like eaſtern tyrants on their throne.
NOR doſt thou only chuſe this mongrel Life,
Bleſt with collegiate honours and—no wife;
Sundry beſides, thy brethren of the gown,
Like thee, deſpiſing fame and wide renown,
Preferring ſtated meals and frequent prayers
To worldly buſtles, and domeſtick cares,
Within their humble cells indulge the ſpleen,
Men never talk'd of, and but rarely ſeen,
With their obſequious fellows they debate,
In their own cloyſters, all affairs of ſtate,
Con over MIST, and SHATTER once a week,
And by their love of kings and ſtateſmen ſpeak,
[36]In the ſame tract of common-place they move,
And learn from them to cenſure and approve.
OTHERS there are—but ſtudious of her fame,
Fain would the muſe conceal her mother's ſhame,
Sore loath I am to ſpeak the mournful truth,
That modern Heads corrupt the letter'd youth,
That bold fanaticks, full of ſturdy zeal
For BRUNSWICK'S houſe, diſturb our common-weal,
Grave loyal wretches, of their monarch proud,
To college-pow'r advanc'd, infect the croud,
Through theſe unhappy walls their poiſon ſpread,
And ſtrike ev'n GOLGOTHA it ſelf with dread.
[37]SINCE firſt our Grannum cropt the fatal tree,
No ſpot of earth is from pollution free,
Briers and thorns infeſt the richeſt ground,
And tares amongſt the choiceſt wheat are found;
The fruitful Nile deſtructive monſters breeds,
And ev'n
* Belloſitum pruduces weeds.
YET bring them forth, my muſe, to publick ſhame,
And in thy numbers brand each hated name,
Each bold apoſtate ſon, who durſt diſgrace
With heterogeneous thoughts his venerable race.
[38]HERE WICKLIFF firſt the northern errors fram'd,
And CRANMER, ever with abhorrence nam'd;
Here LATIMER his novel doctrines taught,
And RIDLEY here for goſpel licence fought:
Preſumptuous prelates! could they hope to live,
And o're the ruins of the church ſurvive?
How could they dare oppoſe ſuch mighty odds,
And raſhly ſtrive with Rome's unnumber'd Gods?
Within theſe walls a ſacrifice they fell,
And in their death foreſtall'd the pains of hell.
FROM hence, degenerate from the common throng,
Ev'n men of ſenſe and probity have ſprung;
[39]Here LOCKE, the ſecond Stagyrite, was bred,
Of modern reaſoning whigs the boaſted head;
Here HALES of ever-memorable fame,
And CHILLINGWORTH acquir'd a deathleſs name;
Here KENNET firſt diſclos'd his god-like ſoul,
And HOUGH a tyrant's pleaſure did controul;
MARSHAM from hence his piercing genius drew,
And LLOYD in theſe abodes immortal grew.
HERE GUIBBONS late, with Aeſculapian skill,
Preſerv'd more lives, than modern empericks kill,
Friend to mankind; and to his healing art
Join'd candour and benevolence of heart,
On health and learning ſtill vouchſafes to ſmile,
And ſhines the great Machaon of our iſle.
[40]HERE OLDHAM tag'd his rough, licentious rhimes,
And STEELE with whiggiſh wit prophan'd the times;
Here TICKEL ſung the charms of opening peace,
And YOUNG explor'd the mines of Rome and Greece;
PHILIPS and SMITH the Chriſt-church wits diſgrace,
And ADDISON pollutes the Maudlin race.
FROM our old track whole colleges depart,
And preach new doctrines with Hoadleian art,
[41]Long ſince the
Merton Lollards * went aſtray,
And Wadham's ſons to Oriel led the way,
Exeter follow'd; and in ſome degree,
Scarce is a college from infection free.
TO propagate this rank contagious weed,
Ev'n BRUNSWICK joins, and ſows the pregnant ſeed,
With ill-tim'd gifts, maliciouſly divine,
Shakes our averſion to his German line,
Shews that his breaſt with love of ſcience burns,
Smiles on our hate, and good for ill returns.
[42]FROM ſuch ungrateful topicks, gentle muſe,
Divert thy ſong, and nobler objects chuſe:
With more exalted themes thy numbers grace,
In more exalted numbers ſing the place,
Where G—L with unſpotted virtue ſhines,
And ATT—RY form'd his great deſigns.
O! prelate, of the church thou burning light,
Through all thy ſufferings eminently bright,
In vain ill-fortune ſtrives to make thee leſs,
Great in thy ſelf, but greater in diſtreſs;
Transfus'd into thy ſoul by power divine,
LAUD'S active zeal and WOLSEY'S ſpirit ſhine,
Like them purſued by a corrupted age,
And ſacrific'd to wild, fanatick rage,
[43]Ordain'd a living martyrdom to feel,
And in exotick climates broach thy zeal;
How in thy praiſe could I dilate my ſong!
But fate and rigid laws reſtrain my tongue.
OUR ſtately riſing buildings ſet to view,
Say how we furbiſh old and model new,
Our theatres, muſaeums, printing domes,
And libraries replete with folio tomes,
Our greaſy kitchens and large halls extol,
And vaulted cellars ſtor'd with double
* Coll,Our tow'ring ſteeples, painful to behold,
Our roaring bells, and altars daub'd with gold;
[44]Say how our ſtables charm the jocky's eyes,
And bog-houſes like palaces ariſe.
SAY farther how the cauſe of faction thrives,
For JAMES how ready to devote our lives;
Our hierogliphick almanacks deſcribe,
Our
* Envoy-beadle and addreſſing tribe;
How treaſon gives pretenſions to a place,
And loyalty eſcapes by
† Acts of Grace;How FIDDES for the church fatigues his quill,
And how the devil looks o'er Lincoln ſtill.
[45]RELIGION ſmiles, while POTTER
* fills the chair,
And learning triumphs under MATHER'S care:
From M—LEY'S hideous looks, by day and night,
Leud ſtrumpets fly, and chaſten in his ſight,
Shock'd at his form, they curb their itching blood,
And naughty children promiſe to be good;
Aw'd with his cloven feet and ſcare-crow face,
The athieſt ſhudders, and grows rich in grace,
No more his dreadful execrations vents,
But owns there is a devil and repents.
[46]NEXT to our Oxford laureats touch the ſtring,
And their great names in mighty numbers ſing;
For ſure no bards abound with thoughts ſo bright,
Nor with the genius of our poets write.
TO prove this truth, ſeraphick STERNHOLD read,
And WITHERS, both the right Oxonian breed,
On SHERLEY'S comick pages caſt your eyes,
And hear how SETTLE'S lofty ſtrains ſurprize;
Our modern wits with equal luſtre ſhine,
Angelick COTES and CATCOT the divine,
[47]RICH, CATHERAL, TRISTRAM, AMHURST, WILKES and names
Which rhime and equal-meaſur'd verſe diſclaims,
What numbers would ſuch rugged ſounds compoſe,
Which even offend the ear, pronounced in proſe?
With the ſame eaſe I could, in verſe ſublime,
Make a Welſh pedigree harmonious chime,
Or put the Ruſſian army into rhime.
UNHAPPY bards! but others may be found,
Whoſe gentle names in verſe melodious ſound,
BACON in eaſy numbers glides along,
And TRAP and WHARTON melt upon the tongue,
Egregious wits! and criticks both ſublime,
Whoſe kindred talents ſo exactly chime,
[48]That hard it is to ſay, in verſe or proſe
Which happy genius more divinely flows;
In this alone the former does excel,
That TRAP writes moſt, but WHARTON writes as well.
BUT above all, record the female race,
The reigning Toaſts and beauties of the place,
Whether in
* Bullock's-lane they chuſe to rove,
Or
† Kidney-hall, the ſoft retreat of love,
Their ſhining virtues and their charms rehearſe,
And vindicate their names from
** STREPHON'S verſe.
[49]IN love too often intereſt ſways the mind
And ſordid riches our affections blind,
Some ſqueamiſh fops, fantaſtically nice,
For virtue ſigh and puke at modiſh vice;
Others for titles languiſh and would ſcorn
Ev'n beauty's goddeſs, if obſcurely born.
BY no ſuch borrow'd charms, nor ſpurious arts,
Our Oxford ladies reign o'er youthful hearts;
In their own native, naked charms they ſhine,
Smug chamber-maids and ſempſtreſſes divine,
Smart laundreſſes on Saturdays ſo clean,
And bed-makers on every day between,
The beggar's off-ſpring to the pariſh left,
And college baſtards of their ſires bereft,
Nymphs without ſmocks our tender hearts ſur⯑prize,
And deities in rags attract our eyes.
[50]UNHAPPY COBURNE! lately laid in duſt,
How to thy aſhes ſhall the muſe be juſt?
For to what member of APOLLO'S race
Did ever ſhe deny the ſoft embrace?
What ſlighted lover or deſpairing ſwain
Can of her wrongs or cruelty complain?
No jilting tricks nor coying arts ſhe knew,
But to the amorous kind was ever true,
To every ſighing youth reſign'd her charms,
And bleſs'd, at eaſy rates, his longing arms.
MOURN, all ye ſons of learning, SABY'S fate,
In verſe and proſe the mighty loſs relate:
With tropes and figures,
* COTES, embalm her name,
† WHARTON, in grateful metre chaunt her fame,
[51]Let each ſurviving Toaſt her garland bring,
And laviſh o'er her grave the flowery ſpring;
In ſtreams of blood let conſcious Iſis flow,
Let Charwell ſwell the ſympathetick woe,
Let Chriſt-church Tom her loſs vociferous roar,
Tom, who ne'er mourn'd for aught but kings before;
In hymns of woe let every college join,
In ſocial grief let every voice combine,
Let every heart with burſting ſighs approve
Our ſorrow as diffuſive as her love.
WHILE ſhe ſurviv'd, indulgent to our cauſe,
We bilk'd our founders and defy'd their laws,
Thoſe grave old blockheads, whoſe religious pride
Would quench love's flame and check old na⯑ture's tide,
[52]Aſſwage hot blood, explode the genial taſt,
And make mankind unnaturally chaſt.
Reliev'd by her from theſe imperious chains,
We knew the ſweets of love, without the pains,
Clasp'd to her boſom, every college round
The joys of marriage, without marriage, found;
Spight of their muſty ſtatutes all the night
We roll'd in bliſs and revel'd in delight.
AMIDST theſe tranſports, to our joys a ſlave,
Death praematurely ſnatch'd her to the grave;
That rank diſeaſe that fierce corroding flame,
Which takes from Venus its venereal name,
Siez'd on her bloom, polluted all her charms,
And with contagion fill'd her circling arms,
[53]Through every vein the ſpreading poiſon rag'd,
And with her life could only be aſſwag'd.
DREAD foe to love! of human ills the worſt!
Thou ſoreſt plague, with which mankind is curſt,
In diſtant climes, amongſt the ſavage kind,
O! hadſt thou ever, ever been confin'd,
Content the wild Barbarian to defile,
Nor with thy breath prophan'd the Britiſh iſle.
SAY, muſe, in ſtrains of elegiack woe,
What dire effects from ſuch diſaſters flow,
That the precaution'd reader may beware,
And, conſcious of the miſchiefs, ſhun the ſnare.
SOON as it pierces with its ſubtle dart,
The coaſt of love, that weak unguarded part,
[54]In doleful ſounds the wounded youth complains
Of pungent ſores, and ſharp nocturnal pains,
His nerves are all relax'd, his eyes grow dim,
And rigid aches torture every limb,
His hot envenom'd blood corrupts within,
And loathſome ulcers ſtain his fading skin;
At length his noſe diſmantled ſinks away,
His fleſh turns rotten and his bones decay;
Too late repentance comes! and pills too late!
Nor can ev'n MISAUBIN reverſe his fate;
Living, his wholeſome friends avoid his ſight,
And dying he pollutes the realms of night.
AGAINST this ill (to vary from my tale)
But two ſpecifick remedies prevail;
Virtue is one and purity of heart;
But if the fleſh ſubdues the better part,
[55]Another ſtill remains, the fam'd machine
(No doubt the reader gueſſes what I mean)
That modern rare device, whoſe injur'd name
Is grown opprobrious, though it covers ſhame;
Without this guard, if my advice prevail,
On venal joys you never will regale;
Then againſt fire-ſhips you may ſtand the teſt,
And truſt the warmeſt nymph — probatum eſt.
SO ancient warriours, buckled up in ſteel,
Laugh'd at the drubbings, which they could not feel.
POOR COBURNE'S fate theſe ſad reflections drew,
O! moſt unhappy, hapleſs nymph, adieu.
Tormenting loſs! too grievous for the mind!
If gentle DUTTON were not left behind;
[56]In her ſurviving charms we find relief,
On her ſoft boſom intermit our grief,
The painful hours in ſoft endearments waſte,
And in our preſent joys forget the paſt.
HAIL charming fair! O! may'ſt thou ever prove
Free from the bane and peſtilence of love;
Long may'ſt thou live, a ſoft luxurious life,
By turns of twenty colleges the wife,
With charms unfading glut the ſtudious ſwains,
The favourite Toaſt of all our Oxford plains.
ON this delighful ſubject, big with praiſe,
How could the muſe prolong her wanton lays?
Unnumber'd beauties, equally divine,
Attract her eyes, and in her fancy ſhine.
[57]SALACIOUS CHILD the neighb'ring dons em⯑brace,
And SHEPHARD bleſſes all the Cambrian race;
CRASSA with luſcious beauties charms the ſight,
And melts in greaſy volumes of delight;
In TATHAM'S kitchen as ſhe baſts the meat,
The Maudlin ſmarts their tender vows repeat;
Oft as ſhe plies the ſauce-pan in her hand,
The Lincoln wits in ſilent rapture ſtand;
Oft as with whirling arms ſhe winds the jack,
They ſuck the dewy moiſture from her neck,
The ſavoury odors from her lips they kiſs,
And wallow in a dripping-pan of bliſs.
FORGIVE me fair ones, who remain unſung,
Sound and unſound, ye tribe of old and young;
[58]To praiſe you all who ſwarm in every plain,
Would ſwell my verſe beyond an epick ſtrain;
Each college ſtew a volume would require,
And BL—RE in the tedious task would tire.
HENCEFORTH, ye ſons of Cam, preſumptu⯑ous race,
No more with us contend for age or place;
At length confuted, quit the learned field,
And to your rival the precedence yield.
In times remote, before the Cam was known,
Our Iſis rear'd her head and gain'd renown;
Arts now forgot her temples did adorn,
And flouriſh'd e'er the Stagyrite was born;
Compar'd with her, the Graecian ſtate gives way,
And Athens was a ſchool of yeſterday.
[59]HENCEFORTH in arts and knowledge vye no more
But with you ſiſter the diſpute give o'er,
Let CLARKE to learning all pretenſions quit,
And captious BENTLEY to DELAUNE ſubmit,
No more let NEWTON his diſcoveries boaſt,
But own himſelf in greater SHIPPEN loſt,
Let HOADLEY to SACHEVEREL yield the prize,
Nor againſt POTTER in contenſion riſe.
HAIL, honour'd madam! hail for arts renown'd,
Through ev'ry age with ivy garlands crown'd,
Who from a thouſand bubbies, never dry,
Doſt with pure milk a thouſand babes ſupply,
Great Britain's mother-nurſe! accept theſe lays,
Which an adopted ſon in duty pays;
[60]Who oft has heard, with conſcious grief and ſhame,
Licentious wits inſult thy reverend name,
Who oft has ſeen them, with indignant rage,
Laugh at thy ſilver hairs and wrinkled age;
Urg'd by theſe wrongs, in her dear mother's cauſe,
Weak as ſhe is, the muſe officious draws,
And in theſe grateful lines attempts to ſhew
What publick honours to her name are due;
Reſolv'd at leaſt on daring wings to play,
And to ſome greater genius point the way.
MEAN while this verſe ſhall conſecrate my name,
And ev'n with Blackmore's ALFRED vye for fame,
The preſent age my labours ſhall reward,
And Britain ſtile me the religious Bard;
The future age a ſumptuous pile ſhall raiſe,
And croud the wall with monumental praiſe;
[61]Erect above ſhall ſtand the marble buſt,
Beneath, the ſacred urn ſhall hold my duſt,
FAME on the right her conſtant watch ſhall keep,
And ALMA on the left dejected weep,
Wreaths and feſtoons the labour'd ſtone ſhall grace,
And this inſcription fill the middle ſpace.
"Rear'd at the publick coſt, this ſtately ſhrine
"Does the choice aſhes of a bard confine,
"Who, in the firſt prevailing GEORGE'S days,
"Tun'd his old Britiſh harp to ALMA'S praiſe,
"And, in a courſe of bold ſcholaſtick rhimes,
"Dar'd all the inſults of thoſe factious times.
"While marble can endure, this hallow'd ſtone
"Shall guard his duſt and make his virtues known;
"When that decays, his fame ſhall ſtill ſurvive,
"And in the duteous work for ages live;
[62]"When that work dyes, let harden'd ſinners fear,
"For then the world's eternal doom is near.
"Reader, from OXFORD if you chance to "come,
"Shed a few tears o'er his ſelected tomb,
"Nor ask his name, but be content to know,
"That for a pious wit your grateful ſorrows "flow.
