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The BASTARD. A POEM.

BY Mr. RICHARD SAVAGE.

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THE BASTARD. A POEM, Inſcribed with all due Reverence to Mrs. BRET, once Counteſs of MACCLESFIELD.

By RICHARD SAVAGE, Son of the late Earl RIVERS

Decet, haec dare dona Novercam.
OV. MET.

DUBLIN: Printed by S. POWELL, for T. BENSON, at Shakeſpear's Head, in Caſtle-ſtreet, and P. CRAMPTON, at Addiſon's Head, oppoſite to the Horſe-guard in Dame's-ſtreet, 1728.

The PREFACE.

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THE Reader will eaſily perceive theſe Verſes were begun, when my Heart was gayer, than it has been of late; and finiſh'd in Hours of the deepeſt Melancholy.

I hope the World will do me the Juſtice to believe, that no part of this flows from any real Anger againſt the Lady, to whom it is inſcrib'd. Whatever undeſerv'd Severities I may have receiv'd at her Hands, wou'd ſhe deal ſo candidly as to acknowledge Truth, ſhe very well knows, by an Experience of many Years, that I have ever behaved myſelf towards her, like one, who thought it his Duty to ſupport with Patience all Afflictions from that Quarter. Indeed if I had not been capable of forgiving a Mother, I muſt have bluſh'd to receive Pardon myſelf at the Hands of my Sovereign.

Neither to ſay Truth, were the manner of my Birth All, ſhou'd I have any Reaſon from complaint—when I am a little diſpoſed to a gay turn of Thinking, I conſider, as I was a De-relict from my Cradle, I have the Honour of a lawful Claim to the beſt Protection in Europe. For being a Spot of Earth, to which no body pretends a Title, I devolve naturally upon the KING, as one of the Rights of his Royalty.

[] While I preſume to name his MAJESTY, I look back, with Confuſion, upon the Mercy I have lately experienc'd, becauſe it is impoſſible to remember it, but with ſomething I would fain forget; for the ſake of my future Peace, and Alleviation of my paſt Misfortune.

I owe my Life to the Royal Pity, if a Wretch can, with Propriety, be ſaid to live, whoſe Days are fewer than his Sorrows; and to whom Death had been but a Redemption from Miſery.

But I will ſuffer my Pardon, as my Puniſhment, till that Life, which has ſo graciouſly been given me, ſhall become conſiderable enough not to be uſeleſs in his Service, to whom it was forfeited.

Under Influence of theſe Sentiments, with which his MAJESTY's great Goodneſs has inſpired me, I conſider my Loſs of Fortune, and Dignity, as my Happineſs; to which, as I was born without Ambition, I am thrown from them without repining.—Poſſeſſing thoſe Advantages, my Care had been, perhaps, but how to enjoy Life; by the want of them I am taught this nobler Leſſon, to ſtudy how to deſerve it.

R. Savage.

The BASTARD. A POEM.

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IN Gayer Hours, when high my Fancy run,
The Muſe, exulting, thus her Lay begun.
BLEST be the Baſtard's Birth! thro' wond'rous Ways,
He ſhines excentric like a Comet's Blaze!
No ſickly Fruit of faint Compliance He!
He! ſtampt in Nature's Mint of Extacy!
[2] He lives to build, not boaſt a generous Rac [...]
No tenth Tranſmitter of a fooliſh Face.
His daring Hope, no Sire's Example bounds:
His firſt-born Lights no Prejudice confounds.
He, kindling from within, requires no Flame
He glories in a Baſtard's glowing Name.
BORN to himſelf, by no Poſſeſſion led,
In Freedom foſter'd, and by Fortune fed;
Nor Guides, nor Rules, his ſov'reign Choic [...] controul,
His Body independent, as his Soul.
Loos'd to the World's wide Range,—enjoyn'd no Aim;
Preſcrib'd no Duty, and aſſign'd no Name:
Nature's unbounded Son, he ſtands alone,
His Heart unbyaſs'd, and his Mind his own
O Mother, yet no Mother!—'tis to you,
My Thanks for ſuch diſtinguiſh'd Claims are due.
[3] You, unenſlav'd to Nature's narrow Laws,
Warm Championeſs for Freedom's ſacred Cauſe,
From all the dry Devoirs of Blood and Line,
From Ties maternal, moral and divine,
Diſcharg'd my graſping Soul; puſh'd me from Shore,
And launch'd me into Life without an Oar.
WHAT had I loſt, if conjugally kind,
By Nature hating, yet by Vows confin'd,
Untaught the matrimonial Bounds to ſlight,
And coldly conſcious of a Husband's Right,
You had faint-drawn me with a Form alone,
A lawful Lump of Life by Force your own!
Then, while your backward Will retrench'd Deſire,
And unconcurring Spirits lent no Fire,
I had been born your dull, domeſtic Heir;
Load of your Life, and Motive of your Care;
[4] Perhaps been poorly rich, and meanly great;
The Slave of Pomp, a Cypher in the State;
Lordly neglectful of a Worth unknown,
And ſlumb'ring in a Seat, by chance my own.
FAR nobler Bleſſings wait the Baſtard's Lot;
Conceiv'd in Rapture, and with Fire begot!
Strong as Neceſſity, he ſtarts away,
Climbs againſt Wrongs and brightens into Day.
THUS unprophetic, lately miſinſpir'd,
I ſung: Gay flatt'ring Hope, my Fancy fir'd;
Inly ſecure, thro' conſcious Scorn of Ill,
Nor taught by Wiſdom, how to ballance Will,
Raſhly deceiv'd, I ſaw no Pits to ſhun;
But thought to purpoſe, and to act were one;
Heedleſs what pointed Cares pervert his Way,
Whom Caution arms not, and whom Woes betray;
[5] But now expos'd and ſhrinking from diſtreſs,
I flie to Shelter, while the Tempeſts preſs;
My Muſe to Grief reſigns the varying Tone,
The Raptures languiſh, and the Numbers groan.
O Memory!—thou Soul of Joy, and Pain!
Thou Actor of our Paſſions o'er again!
Why doſt thou aggravate the Wretches Woe?
Why add continuous Smart to ev'ry Blow?
Few are my Joys; alas! how ſoon forgot!
On that kind Quarter thou invad'ſt me not,
While ſharp, and numberleſs my Sorrows fall;
Yet thou repeat'ſt, and multiply'ſt 'em all!
Is Chance a Guilt? that my diſaſt'rous Heart,
For Miſchief never meant, muſt ever ſmart
[6] Can Self-defence be Sin—Ah, plead no more!
What tho' no purpos'd Malice ſtain'd thee o'er?
Had Heav'n befriended thy unhappy Side,
Thou had'ſt not been provok'd—Or Thou had'ſt died.
FAR be the Guilt of homeſhed Blood from All,
On whom unſought, embroiling Dangers fall!
Still the pale Dead revives, and lives to me,
To me! thro' Pity's Eye condemn'd to ſee.
Remembrance veils his Rage, but ſwells his Fate;
Griev'd I forgive, and am grown cool too late.
Young, and unthoughtful then; who knows, one Day,
What ripening Vertues might have made their Way!
[7] He might have liv'd, till Folly died in Shame,
Till kindling Wiſdom felt a Thirſt for Fame.
He might perhaps his Country's Friend have prov'd;
Been happy, gen'rous, candid, and belov'd.
He might have ſav'd ſome Worth, now doom'd to fall;
And I, perchance in him, have murder'd all.
O Fate of late Repentance! always vain:
Thy Remedies but lull undying Pain.
Where ſhall my Hope find Reſt?—No Mother's Care
Shielded my Infant Innocence with Prayer:
No Father's Guardian Hand my Youth maintain'd,
Call'd forth my Vertues, or from Vice reſtrain'd.
[8] Is it not time to ſnatch ſome pow'rful Arm,
Firſt to advance, then ſcreen from future Harm?
Am I return'd from Death, to live in Pain?
Or wou'd Imperial Pity ſave in vain?
Diſtruſt it not—What blame can Mercy find,
Which gives at once a Life, and rears a Mind?
MOTHER, miſcall'd, Farewel—of Soul ſevere,
This ſad Reflection yet may force one Tear:
All I was wretched by to you I ow'd,
Alone from Strangers ev'ry Comfort flow'd!
LOST to the Life you gave, Your Son no more,
And now adopted, who was doom'd before,
[9] New-born, I may a nobler Mother Claim,
But dare not whiſper her Immortal Name?
Supreamly Lovely and Serenely Great!
Majeſtick Mother of a kneeling State!
QUEEN of a People's Hearts, who ne'er before
Agreed—Yet now with one Conſent adore!
One Conteſt yet remains in this Deſire,
Who moſt ſhall give Applauſe, where all Admire.
FINIS.

Appendix A Books, Poems and Plays, Printed for, and Sold by P. Crampton at Addiſon's Head oppoſite to the Horſe-guard in Dame's-ſtreet, and T. Benſon at Shakeſpear's Head in Caſtle-ſtreet.

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  • THE Travels of Cyrus, in a neat Pocket Volume, Paice bound a Britiſh Half Crown.
  • An Eſſay on the Paſſions and Affections, with Illuſtrations on the Moral Senſe. By Mr. Francis Hutcheſon, Author of the Enquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue. Price bound two Shillings and two Pence.
  • A Select Collection of Tracts, by Walter Moyle, Eſq viz. 1. An Eſſay upon the Roman Government. 2. Remarks upon D [...]. Prideaux's Connection of the Old and New Teſtament. 3. An Eſſay upon the Lacaedemo nian Government. 4. An Argument againſt a ſtanding Army. Price bound a Britiſh Half Crown.
  • Shadwell's Works, conſiſting of all his Plays and Poems. Price bound four Shillings and four Pence.
  • The Orphan. Price a Britiſh Six-pence.
  • Caius Marius. Price Ditto.
  • Lucius Junius Brutus, Father of his Country. Price Ditto.
  • The Spaniſh Fryar. Price Ditto.
  • The Double Falſhood. Price Ditto.
  • The Miſer turn'd Courtier. Price four Pence.
  • The Art of Shooting Flying. Price two Pence.
  • The Norfolk Steward. Price two Pence.
  • The Baſon a Poem. Price a Penny.
  • A Ballad upon the Ruffs. Price a Penny.
  • Juſt publiſh'd, Cyrus a Tragedy.
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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5416 The bastard A poem inscribed with all due reverence to Mrs Bret once Countess of Macclesfield By Richard Savage son of the late Earl Rivers. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-61A4-D