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 PRESENTED BY 
 
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POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS 
 
Heartman's Historical Series Number 33. 
 
POEMS 
 
 ON 
 
 SEVERAL OCCASIONS 
 
 By a Gentleman of Virginia 
 
 Edited by 
 :AHL GREGG SWEM 
 
 Sixty-one Copies Reprinted for 
 
 CHARLES F. HEARTMAN 
 
 New York, 1920. 
 
^<°° 
 
 4™ CJX 'p 
 
 Number .... of 61 Copies Printed on Handmade Papei 
 Also seven Japan Paper Copies printed. 
 
 Gift 
 WH 2 1&2Q 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 " Poems on Several Occasions", by a Gentleman from 
 Virginia, has the distinction of being the first collection of poems 
 printed in Virginia. 1 The copy from which the present volume 
 is reprinted, is in the Boston Athenaeum, and is the only copy 
 known to be extant. Research has been undertaken to dis- 
 cover the author, but this has been fruitless. The familiar al- 
 lusions in the poems to the University of Oxford, indicate that 
 the writer was either a native Englishman who had attended 
 the University, and later removed to Virginia, or that he was a 
 Virginian, who had been educated at Oxford and had returned 
 to his native country. 2 
 
 Only a short time before this volume was published, 
 William Parks, the public printer of Virginia, issued the first 
 number of the Virginia Gazette bearing the date of August 6, 
 1 736. In the issue of the Gazette of October 1 5, 1 736, the book 
 is advertised as published. Additional interest is attached to 
 the copy from which this reprint is made, from its having the 
 autograph of George Washington on the title page, showing 
 that the volume was once in Washington's library. 
 
The poems bear the impress of a very young man, just 
 fresh from the University. We scarcely need to be told by the 
 writer in the preface that the poems are "the casual productions 
 of youth". Though displaying the influence of Pope and other 
 contemporary English poets, the ideals expressed are plainly 
 typical of the Virginians of the early 1 7th century. There is a 
 noticeable absence of the severe and religious element so char- 
 acteristic of both prose and poetry of the northern and middle 
 colonies. The poet does not fear to extol the happiness of love, 
 and the pleasures of life. 
 
 The references to Shakespeare are very few in early 
 American literature. It is not known that there was a copy of 
 the works of the great dramatist in New England before 1 709. 
 The first volume of Shakespeare's Works offered for sale in New 
 England was in 1 722. 3 James Franklin, the brother of Benja- 
 min, and the publisher of a Boston newspaper, was one of the 
 few owners of a copy of Shakespeare's Works. Though several 
 lists of books in libraries in Colonial Virginia have been printed, 
 our knowledge of what books were in use there is far from com- 
 plete. The titles of books in inventories of estates were not only 
 often abbreviated beyond indentification for the modern student 
 but were many times incorrectly written. Frequently in making 
 an inventory the books were grouped as one lot and cited as so 
 many "old books". There was one early private library in which 
 there was a copy of Shakespeare, of which we have positive in- 
 formation. 4 This was the library of Daniel Parke Custis, whose 
 widow married George Washington. 
 
 Our author of "Poems on Several Occasions", manifests 
 familiarity with the dramas of Shakespeare and an appreciation 
 of his superiority. His praise of Shakespeare in an American 
 
book, appearing as early as 1 736, is worthy of notice. This may 
 be the earliest reference, by an American writer, in which 
 the genius of Shakespeare is recognized, and the Elizabethan 
 stage commended. 
 
 For assistance in the preparation of the copy, acknow- 
 ledgment is made of the courtesy of Mr. Charles A. Bolton, 
 librarian of the Boston Athenaeum. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. The first Virginia imprint is believed to be the poem Typographia. By 
 John Markland. An ode on printing. Inscribed to the Honourable William 
 Gooch, Governor and Commander in Chief of the Colony of Virginia. 
 Williamsburg: Printed by William Parks, 1730, 15 p. The identity of 
 John Markland has never been discovered. There are no traces of a 
 Markland family at that time in Virginia. I am inclined to think that 
 John Markland was from Maryland, where the name is not unusual, and 
 that he came to Virginia with William Parks, when the latter moved his 
 printing press from Annapolis to Williamsburg. 
 
 2. For names of Virginians who attended English schools including Oxford, 
 See W. G. Stanard, in William and Mary College Quarterly Historical 
 Magazine, v. 2, p. 22, 23, and in the same journal, v. 6. p. 174, 175; see also 
 Virginia Magazine of History and Biography, v. 17, 1909 p. 412. 
 
 3. W. B. Cairns. History of American Literature. 1912, p. 23. 
 
 4. See Catalogue of Library of Daniel Parke Custis, in Virginia Magazine 
 of History and Biography, v. 17, 1909, p. 412. The catalogue was made 
 after Washington's marriage, Jan. 6, 1759. 
 
 EARL GREGG SWEM 
 
P O E 
 
 ON 
 
 Several Occafions. 
 
 £>ttod ft tton hie tantus frultus oftenderetur, (£ ft ex bis 
 Stud'tis deleft atio fola feteretur\ tamen, ut ophwr, banc 
 animi remijftonem humaniffimam & liber alijfimam judi- 
 caretis. 
 
 Gic. 
 
 By a Gentleman ^/VIRGINIA. 
 
 fc 
 
 WILLIAMSBURG: 
 
 Printed and Sold by Willi am Parks. 
 
 M,dcc,xxxvi. 
 
Ill 
 
 FACE. 
 
 The following Pieces are the cafual Productions of 
 Youth. Having communicated them to fome of my 
 Friends who fe Judgment in thefe matters I thought leaft 
 liable to err, their Approbation has at length determined me 
 to try, what Opinion the Public will have of them. I 
 am too senfible of, and have always been too ftre- 
 nuous an Advocate for that Freedom and Impar- 
 tiality, with which the Public paffes its Judgment 
 on Compofitions of this Nature, to fay any thing, 
 which may prejudice the Reader in their Favour. 
 On the contrary, I am well affured, that giving 
 an undeferved Applaufe to bad Poems, is a much 
 greater and more dangerous Piece of Injustice to 
 
 A2 the 
 
IV 
 
 the Author, than even difcouraging thofe, which 
 are good. It is confirming us in an Error, which 
 we Authors are but too liable to give into of our- 
 felves, That our Productions are excellent, and 
 worthy of the Public Notice. 
 
 IT is therefore my fincere Request to the can- 
 did Reader, that he will perufe the following 
 Poems with the utmoft Strictnefs and Severity; 
 and if he finds them unworthy his Approbation, 
 the Author takes this Opportunity of being the 
 first in giving his Vote, that he never hereafter 
 publifh any more. 
 
 POEMS 
 
(5) 
 
 POEMS 
 
 ON 
 
 Several Occafions. 
 
 Hymn to the MORNING 
 
 AWAKE my Soul, and with the conftant Morn, 
 
 Carol th' ALMIGHTY's Praife; awake and tune 
 
 The vocal Shell to fympathetic Sounds, 
 
 And heav'nly Confort. See! the radiant Sun 
 
 Stains with etherial Gold the varied East, 
 
 And vaft Expanfe; behold! with Giant stride 
 
 He'advances ruddy, and with him returns 
 
 The 
 
(6 ) 
 
 The 1 weet Vicif fitude of Day, and all 
 Th'obfequious Train of filial Colours. Now 
 The vivid Green extends her welcome Sway 
 O'er the fequefter'd Lawns, and fmiling Meads: 
 And now the purpled Violet refumes 
 Its coftly Dye; and all th'extended Plains 
 Confefs th' ALMIGHTY's Hand, of Ornament 
 Profufe. Behold! with flefhy Pink they fmile 
 Enamel'd, and the Daily's dwarfy Bloom 
 Of pallid Hue, and gorgeous Marygold. 
 
 ON ev'ry graffy Sprig a pearly Drop 
 Hangs wav'ring, and with varied Ray proclaims 
 Its great Progenitor. The liquid Gem, 
 Pendent and tremulous, with rival Gleam 
 Mimicks the Luftre of its Parent Orb. 
 Vain Man's beft Emblem! who with BQRROW'd LIGHT 
 
 Which Ev'ry Touch Destroys, against his G o d 
 
 Dares wage an impious and gigantic War. 
 
 FROM 
 
(7) 
 
 FROM downy Neft of artificial Weft 
 
 The fedulous Airlings rife, and to their Task 
 
 Hye joious. Or with gamefome Wing they cut 
 
 The yielding Fluent, and with tranfient Touch 
 
 Skim the moift Element in fportive Whirl: 
 
 Or elfe to ftudious Wand'rer's curious View 
 
 Delightful, they collect their grainy Food 
 
 And mafticative Stones. But heark! the Grove, 
 
 Refpondent to the tuneful Choir, refound 
 
 Celeftial Symphony. The fpeckled Thrufh 
 
 Of various Note, and Blackbirds piercing Sound, 
 
 Conjoin'd to Philomela s parting Lay, 
 
 Mournfully fweet, confpire to ufher in 
 
 The pompous Morn. Nor fhall my only Voice 
 
 Be wanting in the general Hymn: Of Song 
 
 Unskilful, yet with grateful Hand I'll touch 
 
 The trembling String, and chant th' ALMIGHTY's Praife. 
 
 Vagrant, like the induftrious Bee, I'll cull 
 
 Nature's 
 
(8) 
 
 Nature's choice Sweets, and (till with prying Ken 
 Defcry the Wonders of her fruitful Womb. 
 
 BUT fee! the great Exemplar of my Verfe, 
 The Lab'rer Bee, affiduous rife. Behold! 
 From waxen Cell and more inglorious Eafe, 
 Active he haftens and with hov'ring Buzz 
 Extracts mellific Juice. From Bloom to Bloom 
 He wanders dainty, and with nice Difcem 
 Rejects each vulgar Sweet. Hail, mighty Chief! 
 Hybleean Wand'rer, hail! Still may'ft thou fip 
 The pure and elemental Dews; whilft I, 
 With daring Song, and more advent'rous Foot, 
 Attempt the fteepy Heights, where MlLTON firft, 
 Great Chieftain, folitary trod; and taught 
 The lift'ning World, what MlCHAEL's potent Arm 
 In Fight could do, and human Wit atchieve. 
 
 To 
 
(9) 
 
 To Mr. at London. 
 
 An Imitation of HORACE. 
 SOME praife Augufta's lofty Spires, 
 Affecting Kindred with the Skies; 
 Another Sot her Streets admires, 
 The glorious Dirt, th'enchanting Noife; 
 Where Fops repugnant met, agree alone 
 In this ; that all are wand'ring, all are wrong. 
 
 SOME again, with rapt'rous Tongue, 
 
 Extol Soft WINDSOR'S Green Retreats; 
 
 Taught by POPE's romantic Song, 
 
 Sequester'd Scenes and Muse's Seats. 
 
 But thefe, the Mufe's Magpies, catch her Words; 
 Neglectful, what the noble Senfe affords. 
 
 B OTHERS 
 
(10) 
 
 OTHERS make the crowded M all, 
 
 And Theatre their bigot Theme; 
 Where Follies of all Kinds excel, 
 And painted Faces fit fupreme: 
 Where idol Doxies, and affected Beaux 
 Reign firft in Folly, as they're firft in Cloaths. 
 
 FOR me, not Rich's utmost Art, 
 Not all the Demon's of the Stage, 
 
 Can from her dear Embrace difpart, 
 
 Can from my Oxford dif engage: 
 Where If is rolls her flow majestick Stream, 
 And charm'd by Song, forgets th'uxorious Tame. 
 
 SOMETIMES in penfive Mood I ftray, 
 
 And trace her Honours to the Sourfe: 
 Sometimes from neighbour Hills furvey 
 The myftick Mazes of her Courfe. 
 Whence Oxford's tow'ry Head adorns the Scene, 
 And Blenheim dignifies the diftant Plain. 
 
 BUT 
 
(11 ) 
 
 BUT thou, my Friend, remember ftill 
 With gen'rous Wine to banifh Care. 
 True Joys are few; then boldly fill: 
 The racy Juice will heal Difpair. 
 
 As Clouds don't always blacken Summer Skies, 
 
 So let not Care ftill ruffle youthful Joys. 
 
 When Drake, that brave undaunted Man, 
 Who firft durft tempt the Southern Seas, 
 Extending Britain s wide Command 
 From fartheft West to distant East, 
 Was landed on the dreary defert coaft. 
 He thus the Comrades of his Toil accoft. 
 
 "C O M E, my Boys, with rofy Wine 
 
 "Let the foaming Bowl be crown'd, 
 "Let us all in Mirth combine, 
 
 "And Britain s Monarch ftill go round. 
 "Britain and Dra\e reign Sov'reign of the Sea, 
 "Nor fear, where Drake and Britain lead the Way. 
 
 B2 "LET 
 
(12) 
 
 "L E T earth-born Mortals of the Land 
 
 "On gaping Sots their Morals palm; 
 'We're taught more Wisdom by our Main, 
 'Where's fometimes Storm, and fometimes Calm. 
 "Then lets caroufe; To-morrow we'll again 
 "Brave the rough Buffets of the boiftrous Main." 
 
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 To SYLVIA. 
 Sent by the Author unknown. 
 As from the deep Receffes of a Grove, 
 The plaintive Philomela chants her Love; 
 Herfelf unfeen, yet through the neighbouring Plain, 
 Delightful Shrills the melancholly f train: 
 So f trives the Mufe with bold Attempt to fing, 
 Harfh tho' her Voice, tho' feeble be her Wing, 
 Happy at last in this, that f till unknown, 
 She trufts the Folly to herfelf alone. 
 Thrice happier f till, if, with her faithful Strain 
 She can one Moment Sylvia s Ear detain ; 
 
 And 
 
(13) 
 
 And with the folitary Tea, can fhare 
 The Glory to divert the penfive Fair. 
 
 ACCEPT, bright Maid, this tributary Song; 
 To you the Labours of the Mufe belong: 
 To you f he f ings ; inf pired by your name, 
 She kindles with the Poet's gen'rous Flame. 
 Nor fcorn her Lay, becaufe unfeen, unknown, 
 She modeft roams the gloomy Grove alone. 
 The gurgling Brook, which through fome Wood does ftray, 
 And in foft Mufick glides the dusky Way; 
 Altho' from public View retir'd her Streams, 
 Which pendent Trees obscure from Phoebus Beams, 
 Yet not lefs pleafing is her numerous Roar, 
 Lefs fweet her Nectar, or lefs cool her Shore. 
 
 To 
 
(14) 
 
 
 To SYLVIA. 
 
 An Imitation of Anacreon. 
 
 OFT I ftring the Lydian Lyre, 
 
 Oft in noble Strains afpire 
 
 To fing the Glories of that Face, 
 
 Each fecret Charm, each namelefs Grace; 
 But f till the dif obedient Strings do move 
 In foftest Notes, and murmur nought but Love. 
 
 OFT with witty quaint Conceit, 
 
 I vainly f trive to celebrate 
 
 That, which no Colours can reveal 
 
 Which we only fee, and only feel : 
 But ftill the difobedient Strings do move 
 In fofteft Notes, and murmur nought but Love. 
 
 FAREWELL, wild impetuous Ode ; 
 
 Farewel, Phcebus, mighty God 
 
 Of 
 
(15) 
 
 Of well turn'd Wit; with all your Train, 
 The frantick Off-fpring of the Brain. 
 But welcome, gentle Lyre, whofe Strings do move 
 In fofteft Notes, and murmur nought but Love. 
 
 TELL her, in foft pathetic Strains, 
 
 All my Anguifh, all my Pains; 
 
 Tell her, I love, I rave, I die; 
 
 I dare not fpeak, I cannot fly. 
 Tell her, all this, ye gentle Strings, that move 
 In fofteft Notes, and murmur nought but Love. 
 
 ANACREONTIQUE 
 
 I F Gold protracts the merry Scene, 
 
 And partial Death obeys its Pow'r; 
 
 With prudent Forecalt, careful Mien, 
 I'll amafs the fhining Store. 
 
 AND if his grifley Godship come, 
 I'll divert the fatal Dart. 
 
 A 
 
(16) 
 
 A Purfe he wants Behold the Sum 
 
 He'll fcrape obfequious, and depart. 
 
 BUT fince reverfelefs Fates deny 
 This Virtue to the glittering Ore; 
 Tell me, Mortal, tell me, why 
 
 Should I the gaudy Duft adore? 
 
 THEN let the ruddy God advance, 
 And fome beauteous lovefome She; 
 With Mirth, and Joke, and Quirp, and Dance: 
 Thefe alone have Joys for me. 
 
 FABLE 
 
 ONCE upon a Time, an Afs, 
 Bending beneath a pond'rous Mafs 
 Of holy Lumber; Reliques, Bulls, 
 Saints Fingers, Teeth, and f acred Sculls; 
 Obferv'd, where-e'er he came, the Crowd 
 With the profoundeft Rev'rence bow'd, 
 
 And 
 
(17) 
 
 And paid their Homage, as he pafs'd, 
 Which to himself he Thought addrefs'd. 
 Pleas'd with the Thought, the awkard Creature 
 Affects a State in ev'ry Feature, 
 Struts boldly on, affumes the God, 
 Receives their Incenfe with a Nod, 
 And gracioufly inclines his Ear 
 To the fond Rabble's fenfelefs Pray'r; 
 Which once receiv'd, his Godfhip Jack 
 Brays harfh his Approbation back. 
 
 MORAL 
 
 SEE Scaurus comes; I rev'rent bow, 
 And give his Pojt the Honour due; 
 
 Which he, poor Afs, mif takes, as paid 
 To the Vacuity of his Head. 
 
 EPIGRAM 
 
(18) 
 
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 EPIGRAM 
 
 S C A U R U S hates Greek, and is become 
 
 Mere Trojan in his Spight; 
 But why so fierce againft the Men, 
 
 So learned and polite? 
 
 THE Trojans ftole, and kept by Force 
 
 A Dame, elop'd from Duty; 
 But you can't plead e'en this Pretence 
 
 Of having ftole one B E A U T Y. 
 
 To a FRIEND, 
 
 Who recommended a Wife to him. 
 I OWN, the Match, you recommend, 
 
 Is far above my mean Defert; 
 I own, you've acted like a Friend, 
 A hearty, kind, and gen'rous Part. 
 
 BUT 
 
(19) 
 
 BUT Marriage, Sir,'s a ferious Cafe; 
 
 Matureft Thought fhould chufe a Wife; 
 Tho' fome aver, the wifeft Way's 
 
 To think upon it all one's Life. 
 
 FABLE 
 A Ruftick once, on Travel bent, 
 To Oxford's f acred Manfions went; 
 From Place to Place unheeded ftray'd, 
 Where-e'er his wand'ring Fancy led. 
 By Chance at Length betray'd, he came 
 Near Bodleys ever- f acred Frame; 
 Where Two learn'd Clerks, in deep Debate, 
 Were fettling Locke's and * Arys Fate. 
 
 SURROUNDED by a fneering Crowd, 
 The Stray in deep Attention ftood. 
 Till up there ftep'd a pert young Blade, 
 And thus his coxcomb Wit difplay'd. 
 
 *Cant Word for Aristotle. 
 
 C2 Well 
 
(20) 
 
 Well honeft Hob, how like you this? 
 Our Oxford Quirps and Quiddities? 
 This Latin Tongue has Charms, unknown 
 To the harfh Accent of our own. 
 Befides, the Lads are brisk and tight. 
 Which think you, Sir, is in the Right? 
 That matters not, replies the Clown, . 
 If I can tell, who's in the Wrong. 
 CONCEDITUR, rejoins our Spark, 
 For if ti'n't Light, you know, 'tis Dark. 
 But I impatient wait to hear, 
 Which your deep Judgment fhall declare. 
 Then mark, reply 'd th'unletter'd Sage, 
 The Man, that fell into a Rage. 
 Without much Latin, I proclaim, 
 His Notions wrong, and he to blame. 
 Ill-Humour, more exprefs than Words, 
 Of this a flagrant Proof affords; 
 And that he's vex'd, within to find 
 The plain Conviction of his Mind. 
 
 MORAL 
 
(21) 
 MORAL 
 
 HOW oft do angry Fools declare 
 Their Errors, in the learned War? 
 Obfcure their Theme, their Matter deep, 
 From common Senfe their Faults might £eep. 
 But Paffions, thofe unerring Signs, 
 Shew ev'ry Hob, where Truth inclines. 
 
 SONG 
 
 Young Poets, in Love, 
 
 Will call from above 
 Cytherea, dreft all in her Graces and Airs; 
 And will tell their fond dreams of Ida's foft Grove, 
 
 Of Cupids, of Doves, and of Carrs. 
 
 SOME Cloe bejide, 
 
 Or Sylvia muft hide 
 The Name of the Fair that pof feffes their Heart. 
 Thus sighing in Pomp of Poetical Pride, 
 
 They vainly make Shew of their Art. 
 
 NO 
 
(22) 
 
 N O Poet am I, 
 And no Dame of the Sky, 
 No Fiction fhall ever dif grace my bright Flame; 
 That the Truth is most beautiful, none will deny, 
 When I tell them, that is her Name. 
 
 THEN fillupmyGlafs; 
 
 Here's a Health to the Lafs: 
 As for Venus, I fairly now bid you Adieu; 
 Since on her you can never reflect any Praife, 
 
 I'll not labour to compliment you. 
 
 
 A N A C REON T IQU E 
 
 Let others in Heroicks tell, 
 
 How Marlb' rough fought, or Ilium fell; 
 
 For me, I will, in humble Verfe, 
 
 My foft Captivity rehearfe. 
 
 N O hardy Foot, no Warrior Horfe, 
 
 No batt'ring Rams, or Ships of Force 
 
 Could 
 
■ (23) 
 
 Could ever caufe the fad Diftrefs, 
 That ravages within my Breaft: 
 But 'tis a diff rent Kind of War, 
 That fpreads it's fweet Deftruction far, 
 And (hot from beauteous Cae/rVs Eye, 
 Makes me not only love, but die. 
 
 To SYLVIA. 
 
 WHEN deck'd in pompous Majefty, the Sun 
 
 The fteepy Height of Heav'ns Afcent has won; 
 
 Too bright the Glory, and too fierce the Day, 
 
 The feeble Shepherd f huns the gorgeous Ray. 
 
 The fame our Care, tho' different be our Fate : 
 
 He pipes fecure beneath the Beeche's Height; 
 
 While I, alafs! in vain retire from Love 
 
 To the cool Cover!: of the fhady Grove. 
 
 In vain I fly! the Grove denies Relief 
 
 To the foft Torments of a Lover's Grief. 
 
 If with the new-born Light I chance to ftray, 
 
 And through the Woodland fhape my liftlefs Way. 
 
 The 
 
(24) 
 
 The matted Grafs, the Leaves and pearly Dew 
 Breathe of the Morn, and utter nought but you. 
 Your Voice infpires the feather'd Songfter's Throat. 
 Sweet through the Grove refounds the various Note; 
 Yet fweeter break the Accents from thy Tongue, 
 Than the foft Warbling of the tuneful Throng. 
 All's full of you ; the Plants, the Flow'rs, the Trees, 
 The gurgling Rill, and foft etherial Breeze. 
 Through Nature's Works I find but frefh Alarms, 
 And trace th'unfinished Sketches of thofe matchlefs 
 
 Charms. 
 
 ANACREONTIC 
 
 OLD Poets fing the Dame, to Stone 
 Converted by Jove's radiant Son: 
 How P r o g n e builds her clayey Cell 
 In Chimnies, where fhe once did dwell. 
 For me, (did Fate permit to ufe, 
 Whatever Forms our Fancies chufe) 
 
 rd 
 
(25) 
 
 I'd be my lovely Sylvias Glafs, 
 Still to reflect her beauteous Face; 
 I'd be the pure and limpid Wave, 
 In which my Fair delights to lave; 
 I'd be her Garment, ftill to hide 
 Her snowy Limbs, with decent Pride; 
 I'd be the Girdle, to embrace 
 The gradual Taper of her Waft; 
 I'd be her Tippet, ftill to prefs 
 The snowy Velvet of her Breaft; 
 But if the rigid Fates denied 
 Such Ornaments of Grace and Pride, 
 I'd be her very Shoe, that fhe 
 With fcornful Tread might trample me. 
 
 TO SYLVIA, 
 
 On Approach of Winter 
 COME, my Silvia, come away; 
 Youth and Beauty will not ftay; 
 Let's enjoy the present now. 
 
 D Heark, 
 
( 26 ) 
 
 Heark, tempeftuous Winter's Roar, 
 How it blufters at the Door, 
 
 Charg'd with Frofis, and Storms, and Snow. 
 
 SEATED near the crackling Fire, 
 Let's indulge our fond Defire, 
 
 Carelefs of rough Boreas Blaft: 
 Let us teach the blooming Youth, 
 What Joys attend on Love and Truth; 
 
 How much they pleafe, how long they laft. 
 
 THE am'rous Warblers of the Grove, 
 That in fweet Carols chant their Love, 
 
 Can only fing, whilft Spring infpires; 
 But let us fhew, no Age, no Time, 
 No warring Seafons, frozen Clime, 
 
 Can damp the Warmth of our Defires. 
 
 An 
 
(27) 
 An EPISTLE 
 
 To Ejq. 
 
 THOU, whofe warnpi Soul's still eager to commend 
 The feeble efforts of thy Rhimefter Friend, 
 
 Ingenious , what on Cornwall's Coaft 
 
 Doft thou devife? Of what new Labour boaft? 
 High on a Clift, which e'en tranfcends the Flight 
 Of Shakespear's boldest Mufe, doft thou delight 
 The ftudious Mind? Or on the fubject Shore 
 Stray lonely, Nature's Secrets to explore? 
 What doft thou do? Into the Mine descend, 
 And view the kindred Ores their Maffes blend? 
 Or elfe, in Search of Plants, excurfive rove 
 Through the gay Mead and venerable Grove? 
 
 PERHAPS to Love and Gallantry inclin'd, 
 You now unbend and humanize the Mind 
 With Paffions, gentle, foft, engaging, kind; 
 
 D2 which 
 
(28) 
 
 Which rife above the Pedant's dull Pretence, 
 And add a Grace and Elegance to Senfe. 
 
 But no 
 
 I know you better; thefe can only find 
 
 A fecond Place in the exalted Mind. 
 
 From the vain World retir'd, you often rove, 
 
 And Court Self-Converfe in the lonely Grove. 
 
 Or in the Silence of fome awful Wood, 
 
 You con th'important Leffon to be good: 
 
 Descend into yourfelf, with Search fevere, 
 
 And prune each latent evil, budding there: 
 
 Weigh ev'ry Thought; on what each Notion ftands: 
 
 What Reason dictates, and your God commands. 
 
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 On the Corruptions of the STAGE 
 
 Long did the Stage with nervous Senfe delight, 
 
 Exalt the ravish'd Soul, and charm the Sight; 
 
 Whilft Shakespear, Row and all thofe Sons of Fame, 
 
 (Our greateft Glory, and our greateft Shame) 
 
 With 
 
(29) 
 
 With lofty Buskin, or facetious Lay, 
 Held o'er the captive Mind defpotic Sway. 
 With noble Ardor then they trod the Scene, 
 We came, we faw, we gaz'd ourfelves to Men. 
 
 At length from Latian Shores, infectious Clime! 
 Came the foft Cadence and inervate Chime. 
 
 Amphion-like, thofe modern Sons of Art 
 Could chain the Senfe and captivate the Heart. 
 Oh wond'rous Skill! but mark the Syren Rocks; 
 He Blocks to Men, they Men transform'd to Blocks. 
 
 NEXT Harlequin, ingenious Antique, came; 
 The fame his Magic, and his Sourfe the fame. 
 With Kick facetious, or with witty Grin, 
 
 He rais'd our Laughter but expos'd our Brain. 
 
 In vain Mercutio jests, poor Juliet mourns in vain. 
 Phogh! who can bear th'intolerable Strain! 
 Where ftrong and manly senfe difturbs our Eafe, 
 And Paffions, too affecting e'er to pleafe. 
 
( 30 ) 
 
 To burning Houfes, Monlters, and Grimace, 
 
 To flying Bottles, Wands, and waving Seas, 
 
 To cheated Cuckolds, and the bold f Rogere, 
 
 Illuftrious Hero! pendent in the Air; 
 
 To thefe we fly, and leave thofe Sons of Spleen, 
 
 The Fools of Senfe, to doat on Shafyespear's Scene. 
 
 MACHEATHzt laft arofe with vent'rous Wing, 
 And laugh'd away the Brethren of the String. 
 But whilft he cures the Head-Ake's trifling Pain, 
 With raging Frenzy he infects the Brain. 
 To awkard Imitations next we came, 
 The naufeous Snuffs of true poetick Flame. 
 From foreign Trifling and unmanly Tone, 
 We turn to downright Nonfenfe of our own. 
 
 *\A French Player at the Old Houfe. 
 
 FINIS