n?3 
 
 "STTSS
 
 /"
 
 MOONLIGHT.
 
 ,.^- ../'. f- x ?> r
 
 MOONLIGHT, 
 
 A POEM: 
 
 WITH SEVERAL COPIES OF VERSES 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD, LORD THURLOW. 
 
 The mind of man is like the ebbing sea, 
 O changeful Dian, over-sway'd by thee. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY J. NICHOLS, SON, AND BENTLEY, RED LION PASSAGE, FLEET STREET; 
 FOR MESSRS. WHITE, COCHRANE, AND CO. FLEET STREET. 
 
 1814
 
 Jir*. 
 
 d^!^~
 
 
 J f J 
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN, LORD ELDON: 
 
 LORD FIIGH CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN: 
 HIGH STEWARD OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 In this fair Morning of the Liberty of Europe, after 
 a long Night of Solicitude, and Counsel, in which Your 
 Lordship's Wisdom has been eminently seen ; I approach 
 Your Lordship with a Poem, which, it may be, shall beguile 
 You of some Moments of severer Thought. This Labour of 
 two Days, otherwise undeserving of Your Lordship's Favour, 
 I present to You on two Accounts : first, because I conceive, 
 that it contains no Thought unworthy of Your Lordship's 
 Greatness, founded on Virtue ; and, secondly, because I have 
 herein expressed my boundless Debt of Gratitude to Him 
 who preceded Your Lordship in the Chair of Counsel and 
 State ; and Who, as He was the Ornament and Founder of 
 his Family, so was He a fair and majestick Pillar of the 
 Commonwealth. Between Him and Your Lordship there 
 
 8S5185
 
 VI DEDICATION. 
 
 ever existed a wise and affectionate Friendship : and I, there- 
 fore, commit to Your Favour my own humble Tribute to his 
 Memory, and the Verses, which I have preserved, of his 
 Writing ; wherein Your Lordship's excellent Taste and 
 Learning will discover, that no greater Man had been in the 
 Translating of the elder Poets, if either his Fortune, or his 
 Pleasure, had led him to that Pursuit. Desiring to live in 
 Your Lordship's Favour, 1 subscribe Myself, in all Truth, 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Your Lordship's most obedient, 
 and faithful Servant, 
 
 Nmwmber 18, 1813. THURLOW.
 
 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 \^OME then, diviner Muse, and dwell with me 
 Since the great princes of the w^orld, confin'd 
 Within the pomp and pageantry of state, 
 Deny thy presence, to whose searching eye 
 The world, and its ambition, is a dream, 
 And all its glorious and loud-sounding pomp, 
 Charmful to sense, well weighed in thy ear, 
 But musick to a spectacle of woe ; 
 Come then, diviner Muse, and dwell with me : 
 I offer thee my heart, and with it too
 
 9 MOONLIGHTS 
 
 Such entertainment as that heart can give, 
 A fellowship of thought, a deep desire. 
 E'en to the verge of madness, to pursue 
 The track of meditation, whilst the Moon, 
 Emerging from the lightly-flying clouds, 
 Laughs in her pomp, and, with her palest light. 
 Sits Arbitress in the mid plains of Heav*n ; 
 Come then, diviner Muse, and dwell with me. 
 
 What hinders, hut, with sad and silent feet, 
 Hands in each other locked, and eyes cast down, 
 On which the cloud of Meditation sits. 
 We wander o*er the lawns, and seen of none. 
 Amidst the pale dominion of the Night, 
 Hold converse with the habitants of Heav'n ? 
 
 Now Silence is in air, and sound is none : 
 Save, where the owl from out her ivied bow'r 
 Hoots joyous at the Moon, and sprinkled stars, 
 That shine, like di'monds, in the blue serene : 
 Blest harbingers of bliss, and beacons fair, '
 
 MOONLIGHT. 9 
 
 That guide our wand'ring footsteps through a world 
 
 Of errour, that our falt'ring feet beguiles ; 
 
 I gaze on you with love, and rising hope, 
 
 That when the mass of this empoised globe 
 
 Is purg'd by fire, I, rising with the host 
 
 Of countless spirits to your utmost sphere,«'^^^^ 
 
 Shall wake the Song of Morning, and admit ^^^ 
 
 My sequent charge to the Archangels' gate. i30%!l 
 
 O, what a dross upon our earthly robes 
 
 In that assuaging furnace sliall be lost! 
 
 Pride, avarice, and lust ; with all the bane ti 
 
 Of envy, the malignant scum, that chokes 
 
 The fountain of sweet thought ; with direful hate^^ 
 
 And ill-advised anger, that bedims 
 
 The Sun's bright presence in this balmy world. 
 
 There too is Night, where the Archangels dwell ; 
 
 But Night serene, unvisited by storms, 
 
 And fed with golden cressets from the hand 
 
 Of Love immediate, prodigal of truth. 
 
 Thy Sister too is there, O silver Moon, 
 
 Thy primal Sister, from whose image fair H 
 
 B
 
 10 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 Thy form was taken ; there too Hesperus, 
 
 The unalloyed lamp, that wakes the Eve ; 
 
 And that pure star, that, orient to the day, 
 
 From out the bosom of sad Night, displays 
 
 His kindling fire ; lights, too, numberless. 
 
 As are the leaves of Autumn, or the sands. 
 
 That pave the margin of grey Ocean's tide. 
 
 For what is this brave sphere, and perfect round, 
 
 But image and brief abstract of the space, 
 
 That shines above, wherein the Angels dwell, 
 
 And with celestial colloquy divide 
 
 The Seasons, as they pass, of day and night, 
 
 As do the wise and good in this our sphere ? " 
 
 So let us talk till morning ; tho' alone, 
 
 With Angels let us talk, and with the stars, ■ 
 
 That shine, as eyes, upon this lunar world. 
 
 Diverging upon day, ere yet the air. 
 
 With fragrance of the dewy Morn embalm'd, 
 
 Strike on our sense, and touch the faulted ghost, 
 
 That wanders from its deep sojourn, with awe 
 
 Of Proserpine, that to her biding calls.
 
 MOONLIGHT. HI 
 
 And love, reluctant to forsake its haunt ; 
 They follow, as the falcon to the lure. 
 
 . ix;'-, 'Ji5j^ mil: 
 What soul, that lives, from off this upper stage 
 Has down descended to the gate of woe, >oii #i:l 
 Where Cerberus, the cruel worm of Death, \ 
 Keeps watchful guard, and with his iron throat V 
 Affrights the spirits in their pale sojourn ? 
 What soul, that lives, yet living, has ta'en flight 
 From off the fenced platform of the world. 
 And, borne on the soft pinions of the Spring, 
 Or the sweet Summer, to the blissful soil 
 Has view'd the planets from the edge of Heav*n ? 
 Or wdth a shorter wing the flight of doubt 
 Has flown, uncertain, to that veering realm, 
 That middle empire of th' inconstant air, 
 (A flight, that must be ta'en in Moons eclips'd,) 
 Wherein the Spirits, neither bad nor good. 
 That know no measure of their fruitless time, 
 Waste time and hope in their unhoped change ? 
 No soul has flown unto the gate of woe, ,^,3^ %0
 
 1:^ MOONLIGHT. 
 
 Or to the blissful soil, or brush'd the shore 
 
 Of Limbo with its wings ; or flown, and livM : 
 
 But yet intelligence from these has come, 
 
 By angels, and pale ghosts, and vexed fools, 
 
 That, straying as they wont, were blown athwart 
 
 The nether world, from the oblivious pool 
 
 Scarce 'scaping, on our scornful marge to land ; 
 
 Thence to be blown by ev*ry idle wind. 
 
 Their tale half told, with a new flight of fools, 
 
 Eclectick, to the planetary void. 
 
 But, be it well advis'd, the learned ear 
 
 Alone can taste their mission, or the eye 
 
 Of Wisdom their approaching steps foretell : 
 
 Thou, then, O Muse, beneath the burning sta 
 
 Guide me in converse with angelick minds, 
 
 And with the fleeting spirits, and protect 
 
 My soul, unus'd, from the vain talk of fools. 
 
 Awhile, O dear Companion of my steps. 
 Awhile to this seclusion let us pass. 
 Where, underneath the laurel and the yew,
 
 MOONLIGHT. 13 
 
 The owl loud hooting to the frosty air, 
 Reposing in this shade our dewy feet, 
 We may observe the Chariot of the Moon 
 Wheel her pale course through the mid plains of Heav'n. 
 Link we our souls unto her burning wheels, 
 And, in her flaming orbit, let us pass 
 O'er sea and land in our entranced thought ! 
 Oh me, what a prodigious height we soar 
 Above the bright expanse ; how trifling seem 
 The little aims and troubles of the world, 
 That with their flimsy bondage yet enthrall 
 Great souls, of birth to win the arched Heaven ! 
 Where is the speck, for which great Caesar fought. 
 For which great Julius in i\\e Senate died, 
 *The sceptre of the World, so call'd by him, 
 Who led ^neas from the flames of Troy, 
 Through woe and shipwreck to Lavinia's coast? 
 Tell me, O Muse, if any eye can tell. 
 Where is the godlike Alexander's march, 
 The king of kings, the horned Ammon's son. 
 Spoiler of Greece, that, stabbing Persia's heart.
 
 14 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 Washed his soiFd axles in the Indian sea ? 
 
 Where is that sea ? or where, indeed, the world ? 
 
 The boundless world, by the great Poets sung ? 
 
 A kingdom ? or a province ? or a field ? 
 
 A speck, that the exalted mind can scarce 
 
 Discern, amid the wilderness of air ! 
 
 How pleasant, to consider at his toil 
 
 The pale Geographer, with wakeful thought, 
 
 The compass in his hand, the open page 
 
 Of some great ancient tracer of the hills 
 
 And rivers from their source, before him laid. 
 
 With careful hand adjusting to each king 
 
 His portion of passed earth, and marking well 
 
 What here to Greece or Artaxerxes 'long'd : 
 
 O, this is lunatick, and well deserves 
 
 The sounding lash, (cruel expedient. 
 
 And ill-abus'd to heighten Nature's woe !) 
 
 If the fair picture of this insect world 
 
 Were well presented to our purged thought, 
 
 And man taught well on what small stage he play'd. 
 
 But hold I the abuse of passion here has sway ;
 
 MOONLIGHT. 15 
 
 Nor let our startled Nature in amaze 
 Put aught dishonour on the learned toil, 
 That keeps a Rennejl from his balmy sleep ! 
 
 Then now, O Muse, alighting from the car 
 
 Of that pale traveller, the crescent Moon, 
 
 Wakeful Diana, let us sit, and think. 
 
 By the bright glow-worm's lamp, that twinkling plays 
 
 Upon the dewy grass, what causes lead 
 
 The unembodied spirit to appear 
 
 In semblance of its person, to dislodge 
 
 Clear courage from the startled hearts of men? 'Vf/ 
 
 Love opes the gate of Erebus ; and God 
 
 Permits the streaming spirit to ascend. 
 Impatient of its woe, the while the Moon 
 Beguiles the over-dreaming Night, and sinks 
 The fair Creation in a deep repose. 
 Then walk the silent Spirits to the beds 
 Of Lovers, on whose lids the tears are wet, 
 And, waking their o'er-wearied sense, present 
 The image too belov'd, with gentle hope
 
 16 ^ MOONLIGHT. 
 
 And soft assurance of renew'd delight, 
 
 When Death shall lead them through the World's sad ga" 
 
 Revenge, too, and immortal Pity draw 
 
 The Spirit from its home, where'er it be ; 
 
 To wander by the glimpses of the Moon, 
 
 And overcome the guilty with the sight 
 
 Of re-appearance in the form of woe : 
 
 Or else to warn the soft and trusting soul, 
 
 That in its safety joys, and fondly sleeps 
 
 Upon the edge of peril, of new woe. 
 
 That shall awake it to eternal doom. 
 
 By rivers, and on lawns, in cypress shades. 
 
 In monumental yards, and ivied towers, ^ 
 
 Whilst the owl hoots to the uprising fires 
 
 Of Hesperus, they haunt, and thence divide 
 
 Upon their sev'ral errands, till the lamp. 
 
 The harbinger of Morn, awake the East. 
 
 Kings, Poets, Virgins, Warriors, whose renown 
 
 Has fill'd th' expansive circle of the World, 
 
 And Shepherds, that of love disastrous died ;
 
 MOONLIGHT. 17 
 
 In armour, in soft stoles, in peasant weeds, 
 
 Or in the robes of thought, with laurel crovvn'd : 
 
 Touch'd by the dream of Life, they re-ascend 
 
 From their oblivious haunt, and feed their sense 
 
 With expectation of the matin ray. 
 
 Not less in number, than the nascent stars 
 
 That shine upon their woe, or the soft crowds 
 
 Of Daffodils, that in the early Spring 
 
 Awake the hill of Mountfield to delight : 
 
 But long ere Morn with her awak'ning trump 
 
 Disperse the shadows of thin night, they flee, 
 
 Thick as Autumnal leaves upon the shore 
 
 Of Vallombrosa, at Proserpine's call, 
 
 And warned by Phosphor, to their penal home. 
 
 Ah, hapless Spirits ! but the day shall come. 
 
 When Mercy on that silent shore shall reign. 
 
 And that too-troubled dream of endless woe, 
 
 In which the senses wander, as a pool, 
 
 Conclude in bliss, amid immortal bowers !
 
 }8 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 1 question then, O Muse, in love divine. 
 Where that immortal Spirit* may abide, 
 That in his just vocation of this world. 
 With favour of the King, maintained the sway 
 Of jurisprudence in this triple realm ? 
 Well known to thee : that, in his aged thought, 
 With Homer and great Dant^ did converse. 
 And sweet Euripides, whose mournful song 
 Flows in his numbers, like the silver Po, 
 In weeping tribute to the Adrian sea -j*. 
 For since the stars have shed discursive light. 
 With favour, on our globe, no greater mind 
 E'er sat in judgement on the thoughts of men. 
 Or brought its noble faculties to bear 
 With more advantage on the publick weal : 
 In thought, in word, in action ever just : 
 Shield of the Poor ; and, rising for his King, 
 Th' upright defender of His awful throne. 
 
 ♦ Edward, Lord Thurlow, Chancellor of England. 
 
 t This alludes to the Chorus, translated by the late Lord Thurlow, from Euripides j 
 wliich is printed at the end of this Poem.
 
 MOONLIGHT, 19 
 
 Then, oh, may God forsake him not in death ! 
 
 But that pure Spirit, that on cloudy Earth*/ '^^ ■-. 
 
 Stood faithful to his King, and still upheld 
 
 His gracious Master's cause, be crownM with light, 
 
 And in the fields of iEther sit, inclosed 
 
 With glory, on a sempiternal throne ! '-Kivd. VL\iM 
 
 Led by his hand, I first essayed to walk, - -»*'^* 
 O dear Companion of my earliest steps, 
 With thee, O Muse ; and from the beams of Morn 
 To the pale twilight sought thy converse sweets * 
 Whatever in old Greece or Rome was done, 
 Or else recorded of those actions pure. 
 From thee I learnt, and from his counsel sage. 
 Grave was he, and severe ; but gentle too ; 
 And underneath a rough exterior hid 
 A heart, which pity melted into tears. 
 Farewell, my Master, and my earliest Friend ! 
 But not farewell of thee the memory ; 
 Since all I am in fortune, or in rank, 
 In thought, or my inheritance of fame,
 
 20 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 Bating my nature, to thy care I owe ; 
 I should be viler than the dog, that tears 
 The hand that fed him from liis earUest youth, 
 If I forsook thee, or thy gen'rous cause : 
 The Seasons may pass on, and blanch my head, 
 And wither my shrunk cheek, and paint a map 
 Of woeful age upon my wrinkled brow ; 
 But 'till the tomb outshuts me from the day. 
 And time disparts me from the things, that were^ 
 Thy memory shall unimpair*d remain, 
 Boundless, as I must still be less, than thee : 
 While Spring shall for her blossoms be desired. 
 Or Summer for her sweets, while Autumn pale 
 With fruitage shall be crown'd, or Winter rule 
 In storms and tempests the dejected year. 
 So long, O my first Master, while I live. 
 Shall I forget not either thee or thine. 
 
 Where now is Homer ? or great Virgil where ? 
 Or in what shades does Ariosto walk. 
 That with Orlando's madness charm'd the world ?
 
 MOONLIGHT. "21 
 
 Where now is Dant^ ? in what region pure 
 Of that unbounded world he sung so well ? 
 Or Petrarch, that to love was sworn to death ? 
 Or Tasso, in whose stately verse we see 
 Whatever the great Roman was before ? 
 Where is Malvezzi, in whose bitter sense 
 The World may smile at its own Tragedy ? 
 Or, if we turn to England in our thought, 
 Tell me, where Chaucer may be found ? or where 
 Sweet Spenser, that from rebels fled to death. 
 His heart quite broken with the faulty time ? 
 Where now may Milton meditate ? or he, 
 That sung the praises of a country life, 
 Himself condemnM in cities to abide, 
 Tlie rebel's foe, forsaken by his king. 
 Ingenuous Cowley ? but, above them all. 
 Tell me, O Muse, for thou alone canst tell, 
 Where is immortal Shakspeare, at whose birth 
 Great Nature was expended to the lees. 
 And Death forsook his empire o'er the world ? 
 Or that extravagant and erring soul,
 
 22 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 That fled in yonth from out the bounds of Time, 
 Since nothing here was equal to his thought * ?. 
 May God forgive him ! wheresoe'er they be, 
 Or in the Moon, or in the sprinkled stars, 
 Dividing day and night with punctual love, 
 Or else laid up within the silent Earth, 
 To bud abroad, like flow'rets, in the prime 
 Of Summer, when the wakeful trump shall blow ; 
 This I pronounce without the awe of fear. 
 Time, were it lengthen'd out beyond the space. 
 That yet has pass'd o'er the created globe. 
 Redoubled to our sense, shall never yield 
 A harvest of such spirits to our hope. 
 When Phoebus to his billowy inn retires, 
 And Hesperus takes up the pleasing toil 
 Of giving light to this umbrageous world, 
 A thousand stars, inferior but divine, 
 Then turn our darkness into second day : 
 Put in this intellectual world, our night 
 Is boundless prodigality of shade, 
 
 * The great, but unhappy Chatterton.
 
 MOONLIGHT. 23 
 
 Shade without end, that no expectance knows 
 Of beamy Morning to the lapse of time. 
 So men have thought ; whose thinking is held wise : 
 May God avert this prophecy from truth ! 
 
 Tell me, O Muse, beneath this silent Moon, 
 This Moon, that now beguiles us, as we sit. 
 While to our wakeful ear sweet Philomel 
 From out the lower woods is chanting now, 
 Tell me what cause, that in this later age, 
 Wherein by fortune we are placed here. 
 The souls of men, beneath this equal sky, 
 Should thus be spoiFd of their inheritance ? 
 Are not the Seasons lovely, as before ? 
 Do not the glancing lights of Heaven persuade 
 With eloquence, as when of old they beamed 
 On those wise heads, that now in marble rest ? 
 Witness, O Moon, the fair and primal light. 
 That on the forehead of sweet Ev'ning burns. 
 And lights the midnight with a lamp of love, 
 (That now hast called me from my sleepy bed,
 
 24 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 To walk beneath the shadows of thy beams,) 
 
 For universal Nature be thou pledge, 
 
 That all the works of God are equal fair, 
 
 As when created at the birth of time ! 
 
 Doubtless they are, for, what from God proceeds, 
 
 Can never know decay, but wheel their orbs. 
 
 Or in their stations stand, with lovely light, 
 
 Uninjur'd, unimpaired, unalloyed : 
 
 But in the minds of men, by sin defaced 
 
 From their original brightness, change has found 
 
 A dwelling, though exil'd from Nature's works. 
 
 So is there moral blight, as in the air 
 
 The clouds of insects wither leaf and bud. 
 
 And now, O Muse, throughout the Poets' world 
 
 Great fault I find in musick, and in speech. 
 
 And in conception of their fabled thought. 
 
 For all is false : so novelty persuades 
 
 To aim at greatness, far beyond their grasp, 
 
 A phantom, that but lures them to decay. 
 
 Some with new measures trick the greedy ear. 
 
 That would disdain the musick of the stars,
 
 MOONLIGHT. 25 
 
 Because, forsooth, it is of ancient date : iV 
 
 Some with such speech beguile the wondering time, 
 That if the triple-mouthed dog of Hell 
 Should howl a leash of languages at once. 
 Beneath the doubtful and eclipsed Moon, ^^i 
 
 His speech were plain simplicity to theirs : 
 And for their thought, O Jupiter ! whatever ^^ * 
 Is base and retrograde from ancient time, 
 Wherein the minds of men were clean disposed, 
 That reigns in them complete and absolute. 
 This for the worse : but some there are, O Muse, 
 That, like the wakeful Nightingale we hear, 
 With fitful musick charm the wand'rinjj time. 
 Praise be to them : and let the ill expire, 
 Like falling meteors, in the depth of night. 
 
 How many tubes are levell'd at thy orb ! 
 How many eyes are gazing with despair 
 From cells of madness at thy silver beams, 
 Wakeful Diana ! that o'ersway*st the seas, 
 And of the tides of passion reignest queen.
 
 26 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 Yet long they shall not gaze, or idly weep : 
 For now the glow-worm pales his twinkling fire ; 
 The Nightingale is mute ; and grey-ey'd Morn 
 Stands tiptoe on the silv'ry mountain's top ^'^**''^^' 
 Farewell, O Muse ; and thou, sweet Moon, farewell, 
 . i^ 'Till Night again shall give thee to my view. 
 
 
 ,.-:l
 
 The Lord Chancellor Thurlow, after His Retirement from 
 Office, and generally from Puhlick Life, was accustomed to pass 
 His Mornings in the Study of the great Greek and Roman 
 Poets, and other Authors of Antiquity. It sometimes happened^ 
 that in His own Reading, or in directing my Studies, which He 
 superintended with a Kindness and Care, which never seemed to 
 he weary, His Mind would he struck with some Passage of emi- 
 nent Beauty ; and He would amuse Himself with translating it 
 into Verse. Thus He translated the Chorus f-om Euripides; and 
 the Battle of the Frogs and Mice from Homer ; if indeed it he 
 Homer's. These I have subjoined; for I think Milton could not 
 have excelled the first ; and that there is nu finer Specimen of 
 Mock-Heroick in our Language, than the Second. Thus in the 
 mere Pursuit of Amusement, in His old Age, He has equalled 
 what other, and greatest. Minds have done, setting for themselves 
 Tasks of Labour, by which to arrive at the Accompli^shment of 
 Fame.
 
 29 
 
 TRANSLATION 
 
 OF A 
 
 CHORUS FROM THE HIPPOLYTUS OF EURIPIDES, 
 
 BY EDWARD, LORD THURLOW; 
 
 SOMETIME LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND. 
 
 (Jh could I those deep Caverns reach, 
 
 Where Me, a winged Bird, among 
 The feathered Race 
 Some God might place I 
 
 And rising could I soar along 
 The Sea- wave of the Adrian Beach ! 
 And by the Po My Pinions spread, 
 
 Where in Their Father's ruddy Wave 
 Their Amber Tears His Daughters shed. 
 
 Still weeping o'er a Brother's grave !
 
 30 TRANSLATION FROM EURIPIDES. 
 
 Or to those Gardens make my Way, 
 
 Where carol the Hesperian Maids, 
 And He, who rules 
 The purple Pools, 
 
 The Sailor's further Course impedes. 
 The awful Limits of the Sky 
 Fixing, which Atlas there sustains ! 
 
 And Springs Ambrosial near the Dome 
 Of Jove still water those rich Plains, 
 
 Whence to the Gods Their Blessings come. 
 
 1. 
 
 White-wing'd Bark of Cretan Wood, 
 Which across the Briny Main, 
 
 Over the Sea-raging Flood, ! 
 
 From Her happy Home our Queen 
 
 Conveyed, a most unhappy Bride, 
 
 In ill-starr*d Wedlock to be tied ! 
 
 2. 
 Dire both Omens ; when Her Flight 
 Left behind the Cretan Land ;
 
 TRANSLATION FROM EURIPIDES. 31 
 
 And when Athens came in Sight ; 
 
 Where on the Munychian Strand 
 They tie the Hawser's twisted End, 
 And on the Mainland strait descend. 
 
 3. 
 
 For unhallowed Passion rent, 
 
 Planted deep, Her laboring Breast, 
 Dire Disease, which Venus sent. 
 
 And, with sore Misfortune prest, 
 The Chord suspended from the Dome 
 Of Her ill-fated Bridal Room 
 
 4. 
 
 Round Her Milk-white Neck she '11 tie, 
 
 Dreading much the adverse Frown 
 Of the Goddess — prizing high 
 
 Her unspotted chaste Renown — 
 And from Her Heart resolv'd to move, 
 This only Way, the Pain of Love.
 
 33 
 
 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT 
 
 (TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK, 
 
 BY EDWARD, LORD THURLOW, 
 
 SOMETIME LORD CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND.) 
 
 CANTO THE FIRST. 
 
 JJEGiNNiNG first, I call upon the Choir 
 
 Of Muses to come out of Helicon 
 
 Into my Heart, and aid the Song, of late 
 
 Which in my Tablets on their Knees I lay, 
 
 The mighty Contest, warlike Toil of Mars, 
 
 Exulting to convey to all Men's Ears, 
 
 How rushing on the Frogs, the leading Mice 
 
 Rivall'd the Feats of Giant-Men, Earth-horn : 
 
 And, as reported, thus the Tale begins — 
 
 One Day a thirsty Mouse, from Cats escaped. 
 Thrust his soft Chin into a Lake hard by, 
 
 E
 
 34 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 
 
 Enjoying the sweet Water : Him espied 
 Loquacious Pool-Diver, and thus bespake — 
 
 ** Who art Thou, Guest ? whence earnest Thou to this Bank ? 
 " Who is thy Father ? and speak Truth in all, 
 " That I may n't catch Thee lying : If I find 
 •* Thee worth my Friendship, I will take Thee home, 
 " And welcome Thee with hospitable Gifts, 
 ** Many and good : For I am Bladder-Cheek, 
 ** The King, throughout the Pool rever'd ; Of Frogs 
 ** Praescriptive Leader ; Since Mud-Born, my Sire, 
 " In fond Embraces with his Pond-Rule mix'd, 
 ** Engender'd me upon the Banks of Po. 
 " And I discern Thee also fair, and strong 
 " Above the rest, a scepter'd King, in War 
 
 " A Champion : but come, strait thy Birth disclose :" 
 
 » 
 
 Him Crumb-Catch answer'd quick in vocal Sounds ; 
 ** Why, Friend, My Birth demand, so known to Men, 
 ** To Gods, and to the Fowl, who wing the Sky ? 
 " My Name is Crumb-Catch, and I am the Son
 
 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 35 
 
 *' Of Nibble-Biscuit, my great-hearted Sire ; 
 
 " Lick-Mill's my Mother, King Gnaw-Gammon's Child. 
 
 " She bore me in a Hole, and brought me up 
 
 " With Figs, and Nuts, and ev'ry sort of Food. 
 
 " But how make Me thy Friend, unlike in Kind ? 
 
 " Thy Living is in Waters, but ray Food, 
 
 " Whatever Man is us'd to eat. The Loaf 
 
 " Thrice-kneaded, in the neat round Basket kept, 
 
 " Escapes not Me, nor Wafer flat and long 
 
 " Mix'd with much Sesame, nor Bacon -Slice, , 
 
 " Nor Liver, cloth'd in Jacket of white Lard, 
 
 " Nor Cheese, fresh curdled from delicious Milk, 
 
 " Nor the good Sweet-Meats, which the Wealthy love, 
 
 " Nor what else Cooks prepare to feast Mankind, 
 
 " Dressing their Dishes with each Kind of Sauce — 
 
 " Nor ever do I fly the deadly Shout 
 
 ** Of War : But with the Host advancing straight 
 
 " The foremost Champions join ; Nor Man himself 
 
 " I dread, although He bears so huge a Tinink ; 
 
 " But scale his Bed, and bite liis Fingers* Ends, 
 
 " And seize his Heel ; and yet no Pain invades V" »
 
 3ff THE PROG-ANB-MOUSE-FIGHT. 
 
 " The Man, nor flies his sweet Sleep at my Bite. 
 
 " But these two chief I fear in all the Earth, 
 
 *' The Hawk and Cat ; who work me heavy Woe ; 
 
 ** And doleful Trap, where treach'rous Death resides ; 
 
 ** And most I dread a Cat of the first Kind, 
 
 " Who, when a Mouse takes Hole, belays the Hole. 
 
 " I eat no Cabbage, Radishes, or Gourd; vv s&M 
 
 " Nor can I on pale Beet, or Parsley brouse ; 
 
 " This is your Food, whose Dwelling is the Pool." 
 
 Bladder-Cheek smiling to all this replied : 
 " Upon the Belly's Fare Thou vauntest high, 
 " My Guest ! We, too, have Wonders to behold, 
 " Numberless, both by Water and by Sod ; 
 " For to the Frogs the Son of Saturn gave 
 " A Lot amphibious, to leap on Earth, 
 " And under Water hide their Body safe. 
 " If Thou would'st these explore, they are at Hand : 
 " I '11 take Thee on my Back ; but hold Me fast, 
 ** Lest Thou be somehow lost ; and so with Joy 
 " Safe at my Palace shalt Thou soon arrive." i.t j^i
 
 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 37 
 
 He spake, and gave his Back : then with light Spring 
 The other mounted, holding with both Hands 
 His slimy Neck. At first He was much pleased, 
 Seeing Ports near, delighted with the Glide 
 Of Bladder-Cheek : but, now by purple Waves 
 Dash'd, his vain After-Thought with many a Tear 
 He wail'd, and tore his Hair, and strain'd his Feet 
 Close to his Side ; within him shook his Heart 
 Unpractised ; and He long'd to see the Land ; 
 And sobb'd aloud by chilly Fear constrained. 
 His Tail He first into the Water plashed, 
 Trail'd like an Oar, and praying of the Gods 
 To reach the Land : o'er Him the purple Flood 
 Dash'd noisy ; aloud He bawl'd, and made this Speech ; 
 But from the Mouth alone cajoling spake. 
 
 " Not so the Bull upon his Back sustained 
 *' His lovely Burden, when to Crete He bore 
 " Europa through the Wave ; as now the Frog 
 ** To his Court sailing on his Back bears Afe, 
 *' O'er the white Flood, his yellow Body rais'd."
 
 38 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 
 
 Sudden a Water-Snake appeared, to both 
 A dreadful Sight, His Neck above the Wave 
 Erect; whom spying, Bladder-Cheek div*d down, 
 Without once thinking, what a Friend He thus 
 Was going in the Pool to overwhelm. 
 He gained the Bottom of the Lake, and shunnM 
 Black Fate ; thus left, the other fell forthwith 
 Supine into the Water ; clasp'd his Hands 
 And scream'd, till He was lost ; He often sunk 
 Beneath the Flood, and struggling oft again 
 He rose, not so to shun his Destiny. 
 His drenched Foil* dragged him down with added Weight 
 And, Water-slain, He loud exclaim'd these Words:;' 
 
 " Thou shalt not, Bladder-Cheek, by Gods unseen, 
 " Do thus from off thy Back, as from a Rock, 
 *' Flinging Me wrecked : at any Exercise, 
 " Villain ! Thou could'st not foil Me, in the Race 
 
 * The word, Poil, is written so plainly in the Manuscript, that I cannot doubt its 
 being the word intended by the venerable Writer : but, I confess, I know not its meaning ; 
 unless it be derived from the Latin word, Pelles ; and signifies the Coat of the Mouse.
 
 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 39 
 
 " Or Wrestling : now inveigled in the Pond 
 
 " Thou slayest Me : But God has vengeful Eyes : 
 
 ** Thou 'It rue it, nor escape the Host of Mice.'* 
 
 Thus saying, in the Flood He breath'd his last. 
 Lick-Table sitting on the oozy Bank, 
 Saw Him, and wailing ran to tell the Mice. 
 Learning his Fate, sharp Anger seiz'd Them all. 
 They bade the Heralds strait, by Dawn of Day 
 A Council call at Nibble-Biscuit's Court, 
 The wretched Sire of Crumb-Catch, Who, supine. 
 Lay floating, a dead Carcase on the Lake, 
 Not by the Bank, poor Mouse, but in Mid Pool.
 
 40 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 
 
 ^t^h 
 
 CANTO THE SECOND. 
 
 W HEN with the Morning's Dawn in Haste They came, 
 
 Among the first, in Dudgeon for his Son, 
 
 Rose Nibble-Biscuit, and these Words addressed : 
 
 *' Oh Friends, if I alone have yet sustained 
 " Much Wrong from Frogs, ill Turns await Us all. 
 ** Wretched I am, for I have lost three Sons ; '^ ' 
 
 " The first a Cat, our deadliest Foe, surpriz'd, 
 " And slew Him taken just without his Hole j? ir.»r44i#/. 
 " Again another Men remorseless kilFd, 
 " Having with modern Arts a wooden Gin 
 " Found out. They call a Trap, the Bane of Mice ; 
 " The third, to Me and his good Mother dear, 
 *' Bladder-Cheek took upon the Deep, and drown'd ; 
 " But arm We, and go out against the Race ; 
 *' Our Bodies in gay Panoply array'd." 
 
 Thus saying, He induced Them all to arm. 
 And now Mars dress'd Them, on the War intent ;
 
 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 41 
 
 Greaves on their Legs They first girt, fitted well, 
 Of green split Bean Shells, such as over Night 
 They bit with Skill ; and Gorgets, which were made 
 Of Reed-bound Leather, They with Art combined, 
 Flaying a Cat ; the Lamp's Mid-Tin their Shield, 
 Their Spears long Needles, brazen Tools of War, ' 
 Their Helmet on the Head a Nutshell worn. 
 
 Thus arm'd the Mice ; which as the Frogs perceived. 
 They left the Water, in one Plot convened, W^"*- 
 
 And held a Council of destructive War. 
 Now musing whence the Quarrel, what the Stir, 
 A Herald, with his Wand in Hand, approach'd, 
 Pot-Diver, of great-hearted Scoop-Cheese Son, 
 Denouncing baneful War ; and thus He spake. 
 
 " Oh Frogs ! the Mice, defying You, have sent 
 ** To bid You arm for Battle and for War; 
 " For They saw Crumb-Catch in the Water slain 
 " By your King Bladder-Cheek ; fight, therefore, all 
 ** Among the Frogs, who take a valiant Lead."
 
 42 T'HE FROG-ANB-MOUSE-FIGHT. 
 
 This said, He disappeared. Reaching their Ears, 
 The Message of the Mice disturbs the Minds 
 Of the proud Frogs, and while They blam*d the Deed, 
 Bladder-Cheek rising thus began to speak. 
 
 ** The Mouse I slew not. Friends, nor saw Him die, 
 " *Twas merely by his playing on the Lake, 
 " And mimicking the Swimming of the Frogs, 
 ** That He was drownM ; and now, most villainous, 
 ** Without a Cause, they lay the Blame on Me; 
 " But come, let Us consult how to repel 
 ^•f These treacherous Mice : I'll tell You what seems best; 
 " Our Bodies harness'd, let Us all be arm'd 
 ** On the Bank-Top, where headlong is the Place ; 
 " And when the Mice come out, and on Us rush, 
 ** Seizing their Helmets, as each meets Us near, 
 ** We '11 plunge Them strait all arm*d into the Lake ; 
 " So drowning Them, in Swimming inexpert, 
 " We'll raise a Trophy o'er the Mice here slain."
 
 THE PROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 43 
 
 Thus having spoke, He clad them all in Arms ; 
 With Mallow Leaves They cover'd round their Legs, 
 And Gorgets wore of broad green Beet, for Shieldsv > 
 The Leaves of Cabbages They fitted well^iti i^fiij^sJ'jl 
 A long sharp Rush each fashion'd to a Spear, 
 And Helmets of thin Snail-Shells hid their Heads. 
 They stood upon their Guard on the high Bank, 
 Shaking their Spears, and each was full of Wrath. 
 
 Jove in the starry Sky convened the Gods, 
 And, pointing to the warlike Multitude, 
 Strong Champions, many, huge, with long Spears arm'd. 
 As Hosts of Centaurs or of Giants march, 
 Ask'd with a gracious Smile, who were engaged, 
 Among the Immortals, Frogs or Mice to aid ? 
 And to Minerva He addressM his Speech. 
 
 " Thou, Daughter, sure wilt hasten to defend 
 " The Mice, who always dance before thy Fane, 
 '* The Fume enjoying, and the sacred Food."
 
 44 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 
 
 So spake the Son of Saturn ; Pallas thus : 
 " Oh ! never, Father, ^^ ould I go to help 
 " The Mice distressed, for they do Me much Harm, 
 ** Spoiling my Wreaths, and Lamps, to get the Oil. 
 " And this much frets my Mind, which They have done 
 ** They gnaw'd my Robe I took such Pains to weave,* 
 " Threading with slender Warp the slender Woof, 
 " And made Holes in it ; Now the Clothier comes 
 ** For Interest on Me ; I am downright mad, 
 " I wove on Tick, and have it not to pay. 
 " But in like manner I Ml not aid the Frogs, 
 ** For They are not discreet. But, weary once, 
 *' And just returned from Battle, wanting Sleep, 
 " Clamoring They would not let Me wink the least ; 
 " Sleepless I lay, and with an aching Head, 
 ** Till the Cock crow'd. But let us, Gods, refrain 
 " Our Aid, lest some of You from Weapon sharp 
 '* Receive a Wound ; for in close Fight They meet 
 " In adverse Battle even with a God : 
 " Here looking on, let 's all enjoy the Fray." 
 She spake, and strait the other Gods complied.
 
 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT'/ 45> 
 
 CANTO THE THIRD. 
 
 r\ 
 
 A.S with a Whirlwind all together come 
 Into one Spot. Two Heralds also come, , ^^ 
 
 Carrying the Signal for the Fight : The Gnats, 
 Holding great Trumpets, sound the dread Alarpi 
 Of Battle ; while Saturnian Jove on high 
 Thunders the Signal of disastrous War. 
 
 High-Croak first wounded Lap-well with his Spear 5 
 Among the foremost, through the Belly pierc'd 
 In the mid-Liver, down He tumbled prone, 
 And soird his soft Down : Next him Creep-Hole spear'd 
 The Son of Mud-born, and his stubborn Lance 
 Fix'd in his Breast ; Him falling sable Death 
 Surprlz'd, and from the Body fled the Soul. 
 But Love-Beet struck Pot-Diver to the Heart, 
 And slew Him ; Munch- Loaf in the Belly hit 
 Loud-Clack, who falling prone, the Soul forsook 
 His Limbs. When Pool-Diver saw Loud-Clack slain,
 
 46 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 
 
 With Rock as Millstone vast, He by Surprize 
 Struck Creep-Hole on Mid-Neck, and Darkness veil'd 
 His Eyes : at Him again with ghtt'ring Spear 
 Lap-Well aimM right, and in the Liver struck. 
 When Suck-Cabbage saw this, He fled, and fell 
 Down the deep Bank ; but He escap'd not so : 
 He plung*d Himself into the Flood ; He fell ; 
 And never more looked up ; The Lake was stain'd 
 With purple Blood ; He lay upon the Shore 
 Outstretched, his small Guts and fat Bowels mash'd. 
 Then Marsh-Love slew Scoop-Cheese upon the Bank .; 
 At Sight of Scrape-Ham, Calamint took Fright : 
 Flying, He plunged into the Lake, and threw 
 His Shield away. Water-Love slew the King 
 Gnaw-Gammon : with a Stone in Hand he struck 
 The fore-Part of his Head, and through His Nose 
 The Brain rill'd ; and the Earth was splash 'd with Blood. 
 Lick-Table slew good Mud-Bed with his Spear, 
 Assailing Him, and Darkness veil'd his Eyes. 
 Weed-Biter spying Hunt-Steam, by the Feet 
 Dragg'd Him, and strangled in the Marsh, his Neck>T
 
 THJB FROG-ANP-ftl^USE-J'IGHT. 4? 
 
 ClaspM in his Hand. Crumb-Catch his dying Friend 
 Reveng'd, and wounded Mud-Robe in the Paunch, ,^^> 
 To the Mid-Liver; prone He fell ; His Soul ;j*^ 
 
 To Pluto went. This Mud-Foot seeing threw '/.f^r/^l 
 A HandfuU, grasp'd, of Soil at Him, and daubed ' W 
 His Forehead, and well nigh put out his Eyes ; < voCt 
 Enrag'd, the other seizing with strong Hand Ur ^H 
 A mighty Stone, which lay upon the Phiin, ^t/^ 
 
 The Earth incumbering, Mud-Foot smote with It W 
 Below the Knees ; the whole Right Leg was crush'd, 
 And down He tumbled in the Dirt supine. . i 
 
 Hoarse-croak, revenging Him, again assaiTd 
 The Foe, and smote his Navel ; the sharp RusI) 
 Went all in ; on the Ground his Bowels pour'd 
 Following the Spear, drawn out with violent Hand. 
 When Cate-Munch, on the Margin of the Flood, 
 Saw this, He limping from the Fight retired ; 
 Afflicted much, He plung*d into a Ditch, 
 That He might shun by Flight a grievous Death. 
 But Nibble- Biscuit on the Instep smote 
 Bladder-Cheek ; wounded quick He fled, and plungM
 
 48 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 
 
 Into the Lake : when Nibble-Biscuit saw 
 
 Him fall half dead, He rush'd on Him again 
 
 Eager to slay : but Weedy, when He saw 
 
 Him fall half dead, passM through the foremost Rank, 
 
 And darted his sharp Rush ; which could not pierce 
 
 The Shield through, but his Spear-Point was repelFd. 
 
 i 
 
 There was among the Mice a stripling Boy, 
 Above the rest tall, fighting close, the Son 
 Of blameless Snare-Loaf; He resembled Mars 
 Himself, bold Scrap-Catch : singly He excell'd 
 In Battle all the Mice: He stood alone, ,j| 
 
 Aloof from others, by the Lake, elate 
 Threatening to end the Race of warlike Frogs :^,^^// 
 And He had done it, for his Might was great. 
 Had not the Sire of Gods and Men look'd sharp. ^ 
 But Jove took Pity on the ruin'd Frogs ; 
 And, moving slow his Head, pronounced this Speech. 
 
 " Good Gods ! important Deeds my Eyes behold ; ■ 
 " Scrap-Catch no little has astonish'd Me,
 
 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-FIGHT. 40 
 
 " Beside the Lake, with eager Eyes intent 
 
 " To cut the Frogs quite off; but send We quick 
 
 " Pallas, and also Mars in Battle strong, 
 
 " Bold as He is, to drive Him from the Field." 
 
 So spake the Son of Saturn : Mars replied ; 
 " Neither the Might of Pallas, nor of Mars, 
 ** Jove ! will avail from grievous Death to save 
 ** The Frogs : but let Us all go to their Aid : 
 " Or wield thy own great Giant-killing Arms, 
 " Of Force impetuous, wherewith the Chiefs 
 " Thou slewest of all the Titans, binding fast 
 " Enceladus, and those fierce Giant-Tribes." 
 
 He spake ; and Jove his fiery Lightening lanc*d ; 
 It thunder'd first, and vast Olympus shook : 
 But then the dreadful Bolt, the Arms of Jove, 
 Whirling He sent ; It flew from the King's Hand, 
 And, lighting, frighten'd all the Frogs and Mice. 
 
 Yet, not so checked, the Mouse -Host pressed still more 
 To cut the Race of warlike Frogs quite oft'; 
 
 G
 
 50 THE FROG-AND-MOUSE-riGHT. 
 
 But that from Heaven the Son of Saturn saw 
 The Frogs with Pity, and strait sent Them Aid. 
 
 Sudden, with Anvil-Backs, and crooked Claws, 
 Marching awry, They came, in Track oblique, 
 Pincer-mouth'd, Shell-skinn'd, Bodies all of Bone, 
 Broad-back'd, their Shoulders shining forth, Bow-legg'd, 
 Their Joints well-knitted, in the Breast their Eyes, 
 Eight-footed, double-headed, many-claw'd. 
 They are call'd Crabs. Their Mouths snapp'd Tails of Mice, 
 And Feet, and Hands ; and back their Spears were bent ; 
 Whom the poor Mice shrunk under, nor bore up ; 
 But turn'd to Flight. The Sun was setting now. 
 And of this One-Day War an End was made.
 
 51 
 
 I ADD ALSO A TRANSLATION OF THE 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE ANDRIAN OF TERENCE, 
 
 BY THE SAME NOBLE AND VENERABLE PEN. 
 
 \Yhen first to write the Poet bent His Mind, 
 This only Task He thought Himself assignM, 
 Such Fables, as might please the Town to write — 
 But He perceives the Thing is altered quite. 
 For writing Prologues He mispends in vain 
 His Labour, not the Subject to explain. 
 But th' old sour Poet's Railing to confute. 
 Now mind, pray, what the Fault is They impute. 
 Menander the Perinthian composed. 
 And Andrian : the Plots in both proposed 
 Were not so different, but one, who knew 
 Whichever well, must know the other too. 
 He owns from the Perinthian He transferred 
 Whatever with His Andrian fairly squared.
 
 52 TRANSJLATION OF THE PROLOGUE TO THE ANDRIAN. 
 
 And used it as His own. This They dispraise. 
 Contending that such Mixture spoils both Plays. 
 They are so knowing, that They nothing know, 
 Who, while on Him They foul Reproaches throw, 
 Naevius, Plautus, Ennius accuse, 
 Authors, whose Track our Poet but pursues. 
 More fond to emulate Their Negligence, 
 Than of these Men the grov'ling Diligence. 
 I warn Them to be quiet, and forbear 
 To slander, lest Their own Misdeeds The)' hear. 
 Attend with Favour, and with Patience try, 
 That what remains of Hope You may descry. 
 Whether His Plays, hereafter made quite new, 
 Will be seen out, or driven off by You.
 
 53 
 
 LINES 
 ON THE VICTORY OF 
 
 CAPTAIN SIR PHILIP BOWES VERE BROKE, BARONET, 
 
 OVER THE CHESAPEAKE, IN THE AMERICAN SEAS. 
 
 iNow had our Fleet, that, on the angry Main/l 
 Despite of France, of Holland, and of Spain, 
 The Flag of England in full Triumph bore, 
 Been wrecked at last upon the Western Shore. 
 
 Columbia's flag was fatal to our pride ; 
 And We, that had the polish'd World defied, 
 Supreme in Courage, and in nautick Skill, 
 Were doom'd to know from petty Traitors ill. 
 
 The sad Reverses of inconstant Fate 
 Could not overcome our Courage with their Weight ; 
 But England felt this, as a fatal blow. 
 To strike her Colours to so mean a Foe.
 
 54 LINES ON CAPTAIN BROKE*S VICTORY. 
 
 A Foe, that swims about the Wat'ry World, 
 Wherever Jove hath his bright Thunder hurl'd, 
 To pick by carriage on the doubtful Main 
 Our Island's refuse, and her thievish gain. 
 
 Long time she doubted, and long time forbore 
 To face the Thunder of the Lion's Roar : 
 But bribes from France, what courage could not do. 
 To war committed her rebellious crew. 
 
 Then the poor Senate, in their broken style, 
 Began the Queen of Nations to revile ; 
 And Billingsgate, by Western wit made more, 
 Fiird all the echoes of their knavish shore. 
 
 The Jails were open'd, and their cunning planned 
 A gen'ral search and rummage through the land. 
 That all the knaves, that in her bosom slept. 
 Like flocks of locusts, to their ships were swept.
 
 LINES ON CAPTAIN BROKERS VICTORY. 55 
 
 Then their four Frigates, long laid up in mud, 
 Were slowly dragg'd to the unwelcome flood ; 
 That, once a year, with trumpets passed o'er, 
 To scare the Dolphins, and dismay the Moor. 
 
 But now the Citizens the change shall know 
 Between a turban 'd, and a Christian foe ; 
 And Commodores, that hrav'd it at Algiers, 
 Shall skulk in Ocean, lest we crop their ears. 
 
 Their souls being little, their occasions much. 
 And no relief from Frenchman, or from Dutch ; 
 With their fat dollars they our men o'er-reach,- 
 And taint their faith with their Satanick speech. 
 
 Some, that for debt were in their jails confin'd, 
 And some, for crime that left our shores behind. 
 Some weak, some mad, from their allegiance fell. 
 To find, that Treason is a mental Hell.
 
 56 I.INBS ON CAPTAIN BROKERS VICTORY. 
 
 And well it was America did so. 
 The only hope of safety she could know ; 
 For, let what will be, thus our fate is spun — 
 *Tis but by England, England is undone. 
 
 In mere despair with these their Tops they fill, 
 And triumph o'er us by their force and skill : 
 The Cannon, pointed by those English minds. 
 Awhile dispers'd Our Glory to the winds. 
 
 Then their few ships were of so vast a size, 
 That scarce our decks could to their port-holes rise ; 
 We fought in flame, while they securely stood, 
 And swept our decks into the briny flood. 
 
 Oh ! what brave spirits in the deep were lost. 
 Their Friends', their Country's, and their Nature's boast ! 
 Who smil'd in Death, and, to their Country true, 
 Found all their Wounds were for their Fame too few !
 
 LINES ON CAPTAIN BROKERS VICTORY. 5/ 
 
 But Broke revenged them by his noble deed, 
 And in the Shannon taught his foes to bleed : 
 Columbia, gazing on the adverse shore, 
 Beheld her glory and her cause no more. 
 
 Now, joyous light throughout our Nation burns, 
 While he in laurels o'er the Sea returns : 
 And, taught by Broke, Britannia now may view 
 What her brave Suffolk * to her foes can do. 
 
 Our gracious Master, with a sweet reward, 
 Has shown his faith was grateful to his Lord f : 
 And, brave himself as is the crystal light. 
 Has cloth'd with honour his courageous Knight. 
 
 November \dth, 1813. 
 
 * Sir Philip Broke is a gentleman of Suffolk. 
 
 f The Prince Regent was gi-aciously pleased to create Captain Broke a Baronet of 
 England, for his conduct in this Battle.
 
 59 
 
 TO ROBERT SMIRKE, ESQ. 
 
 ON HIS BEAUTIFUL BUILDING OF COVENT GARDEN THEATRE. 
 
 VV HEN first I saw this fair and wond'rous pile, 
 Tlie great example of the Dorick style. 
 And mark*d its wise proportions, how severe. 
 And yet how soft its beauty did appear, 
 The bright contention of each outward part. 
 Where Nature only was adorn'd by art. 
 Not overwhelmed, as other builders use, 
 Who the rich stores of science still abuse, 
 But rais'd in separate glory to the sky. 
 As with the works of Nature born to vie ; 
 Lost in delight, and in amaze I stood, "\ 
 
 And pitied the old age, that, harsh and rude, V 
 In humble dwellings the sweet scene pursu'd. y 
 
 And as God framM the perfect work of Man, 
 Where all proportion in its search began,
 
 60 TO ROBERT SMIRKE, ESQ. 
 
 To be the book and alphabet of love, 
 Where mighty builders their first science prove ; 
 So this, hereafter, to our eyes shall stand, 
 The great Ephesian temple of our land. 
 And sweet Apollo, which thy art has plann'd. 
 
 Nor less in beauty, though that beauty be 
 Of all mankind the pure epitome, 
 And therefore to our architects the source 
 Of sweet proportion, and unerring force. 
 Where they may learn, from this thy rule sublime. 
 To charm the skies, and to out-question time ; 
 Not less in these, than in fair use we weigh 
 The wond'rous genius, that these walls display. 
 That speak thee, Smirke, and boldly I declare 
 The faultless truth, the great Palladio's heir. 
 
 With fine delight, by Mathematicks taught, 
 A beauteous pile may to the skies be wrought. 
 In which the marble, or the stone, may vie 
 In likely form with brave eternity ;
 
 TO ROBERT SMIRKE, ESQ. 61 
 
 And wear a crown of beautv to outshine 
 Th' engilding Summer with its front divine ; 
 But if the inward beauty be not like, 
 To win by use, as with delight to strike, 
 It shall be but a vizor, or a mask. 
 Which for intelligence we vainly ask ; 
 Apollo to the eye ; but to the mind 
 A vacant ideot, tongueless, deaf, and blind. 
 
 This faculty or soul, the light of Heav^i, 
 Thy hand with prodigal award has giv'n. 
 And fram'd its various chambers to the use 
 Of boundless passion, bating the abuse ; 
 For that were like the fool of elder date. 
 Who thought by vast dimension to be great ; 
 Whereas in life, as in the mimick scene. 
 The perfect virtue lives still in the mean ; 
 And firmly lives : this thy fine nature knew. 
 And gave example, when this plan you drew.
 
 62 TO ROBERT SMIRKE, ESQ. 
 
 And as the wisest Nature is forbid, 
 By silence or disuse it it be hid, 
 And only years and strict attention can 
 Discourse the perfect nature of the man ; 
 Yet not completely, if we finely sought 
 From the first cradle, till his age were brought 
 To fill the second with o'er-lab'ring ill ; 
 So may we read thee, and admire thee still ; 
 Yet hope not, till this squared stone shall fall 
 To crumbling dust, or fire consume it all. 
 That, in prophetick light, in Theatres 
 Gives type and fashion of the World's decease. 
 An element, still fatal to the Stage, 
 That saves it from the sad expense of age, 
 (Wherein of old the Pope was wont to deal. 
 Now Bonaparte's vex'u malice doth reveal 
 Itself in fire ;) we hope not to pursue 
 The map of knowledge, which in this you drew. 
 To full attainment, but content to find 
 Each day some new provision of your mind.
 
 TO ROBERT SMIRKE, ESQ. 63 
 
 Expend our lives in wisely being taught, 
 
 How the great founders in their marble wrought 
 
 The book of wisdom, and the map of thought. 
 
 1 
 
 Thy genius was confin'd, and yet thy art 
 Will not that secret to the World impart : 
 But, like Apelles, when he formed in thought 
 His boundless picture, this brave house hast wrought ; 
 Free, as when Phidias his keen chisel sway'd, 
 To carve the marble of the matchless maid, 
 That all the Youth of Athens, in amaze 
 At that cold beauty, with sad tears did gaze ; 
 (For love, t* expend itself, shall find no bar, 
 Or on a marble image, or a star ; 
 But wander, in its nature unconfin'd, 
 As is thy genius, or th' unleased Wind ;) 
 Thou, on one side hemmM in by th* publick ways. 
 Yet didst this temple to bright honour raise ; 
 And, in th' once pious Garden's near despite. 
 Didst lift these pillars, to out-match the light : 
 Great Architect, with wonder I pursue 
 The fancy of thy draught ; and find too few,
 
 64 TO ROBERT Sx^lIRKE, ESQ. 
 
 Had I a hundred tongues, the words of praise, 
 Which they could yield me, while on this I gaze. 
 
 Then be it so : let Silence then persuade 
 Thy gen'rous nature, how our hearts are sway'd : 
 For silence is best praise, when wonder reigns : 
 Yet take this verse for thy immortal pains : 
 Thou here hast built a temple, and a dome. 
 Which shall exalt thee, for all time to come ; 
 Unless the lightning in especial love 
 Shall this fair structure to the skies remove ; 
 Snatch'd by the hand of Jove : though earthly fire 
 May be the outward signal of desire. 
 This may be so ; and yet thy name shall live. 
 And to our publick works new glory give. 
 Where thou and Shakspeare uncontroul'd shall stand, 
 The mix'd delight and wonder of our land, 
 Till fire unfeigned shall mar the World's design. 
 And wrap in ruin this our brave confine. 
 Unbounded Poet ! Architect divine ! 
 
 November.
 
 65 
 
 VIRGIL'S GHOST. 
 
 1 WALK in woods from Morning until Eve, 
 From Eve to dewy Night : and pitch my Camp 
 In the sepulchral forests, where tlie bird. 
 That fled from Tereus, weeps the livelong day : 
 And all the starry Night she weeps, and sings 
 Before the gate of Proserpine ; a cave, 
 That leads from Dis into this upper World : 
 There dwell I, wheresoever that dwelling be, 
 Apart from kings ; and with discursive ghosts. 
 Upon the edge of Morning, sweetly talk. 
 Now pale Bootes on the cavern shone ; 
 And I, forsaking great Malvezzi's page, 
 Call'd with sweet voice unto that ghostly herd, 
 Which they are wont t' obey, for Maro's soul, 
 T* uprise, and visit the o*er-wakeful Moon. 
 I called ; and Maro at the Summons came : 
 
 I
 
 66 Virgil's ghost. 
 
 " What would'st thou, Son, with me ?" I straight reply'd^ 
 
 *' O Poet, above all divinely wise, 
 
 ** To whom the Sun and Moon were strictly known, 
 
 " The sprinkled Stars, and Seasons, that o'er-sway 
 
 " This fickle Globe, the Earth, and what it bears, 
 
 " Of Fruit, of Creatures, of immortal Man, 
 
 " With all, that in the lower realms of Dis, 
 
 " Far underneath the glimpses of the Moon, 
 
 ** Have wakeful being ; tell me now, I pray, 
 
 " What, in this wand'ring errour of the World, 
 
 " Best medicine for Sorrow, may^ be found 
 
 " To lull th' oblivious evil into Peace ?" 
 
 I said ; and Maro, with sad tears, reply'd ; 
 
 While, overhead, the wakeful thunder roU'd, 
 
 As when it passes o'er Oblivion's shore : 
 
 " Great is the task, O Son, and various minds 
 
 " With various solace lull the poignant woe : 
 
 " Some in wild passion steep the troubled breast, 
 
 " And some with sweet Nepenthe lull the mind, 
 
 ** And some with herbs of mere forgetfulness : 
 
 *' Their potency is much ; and men may stay
 
 virgijl's ghost. 67 
 
 " The orbit of the Moon with herb and song ; 
 
 *' And so the sovereign reason may assuage ; 
 
 '* But open wide the porches of thine ear ; 
 
 " Believe it, with the sanction of my soul, 
 
 " That, worn with study, sought Proserpine's shore ; 
 
 " A Pot of Porter, O my Ctracious Son, 
 
 " Shall best resolve thy question, if His drawn 
 
 " From a sweet tap, where the resort is much" 
 
 He said ; and vanished, like the dews of Night.
 
 68 
 
 TO ITALY, 
 
 ON THE DIVINE SINGING OF 
 MADAME CATALAN!. 
 
 JN OT that thy Beauty from the Tramontanes 
 Is fencM by Mountains of eternal Snow ; 
 Not that great Jove into the silver Po 
 Struck Phaeton, that lost the Solar Reins ; 
 
 Not that the golden Orange on thy Plains, 
 
 And fattening Olives in full Sweetness blow ; 
 
 Nor that thy Lakes into Avernus go, 
 
 While sparkling Summer on their Surface reigns ; 
 
 No ; nor that that enlighten'd Hill * doth shine, 
 
 The Torch of Nature, through the radiant Night, 
 Can make thy Coast, O Italy, divine : 
 
 But this thy Glory, this thy sacred Light ; 
 
 That Catalani, whom all Tongues incline 
 To speak immortal, is by Birth tliy Right. 
 
 * Vesuvius
 
 69 
 
 THE ORANGE TREE 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 Jr AIR blossoms the Orange, and long may it bloom, 
 And yield a sweet fragrance, ungrateful to Rome ; 
 Beneath the deep shade of its time-spreading boughs. 
 In the bright blushing Bacchus we steep our warm vows 
 
 O the bright Orange, 
 
 Nassau's blooming Orange, 
 Long, long may it blossom, the pride of that House ! 
 
 Religion first planted the beautiful Tree, 
 
 And Liberty kept it from evil still free, 
 
 From blasts of the Winter, and blights of the Spring — 
 
 'Till, Oh ! a sad Season misfortune did bring : 
 
 O the bright Orange, 
 
 Nassau's blooming Orange, 
 Again shall it blossom, the Garden's sweet king !
 
 Ji) THE ORANGE TREE. 
 
 God smiles on the Orange ; and Men love its shade ; 
 For the Leaves not in Winter, unchanging, will fade ; 
 Still true to its Nature, it mocks the dark skies, 
 And, unharmed by the Lightning, the tempest defies : 
 
 O the bright Orange, 
 
 Nassau's blooming Orange, 
 Again in new beauty its blossoms arise ! 
 
 Then bathe its sweet Roots in the juice of the Vine, 
 And in Songs of bright beauty declare it divine. 
 Let the fairest of Women still haunt the soft shade. 
 And the bravest of Soldiers still rise for its aid ! 
 
 O the bright Orange, 
 
 Nassau's blooming Orange, 
 Belov'd of all Nature, the Tree cannot fade ! 
 
 December 21.
 
 n 
 
 TO 
 
 ROBERT SOUTHEY: 
 
 POET LAUREATE. 
 
 X OET, whose Soul, to Liberty devote, 
 Has finely spoken in immortal Song, 
 And with Her borne all English Hearts along, 
 That can th* uplifted Mind from Evil note, 
 
 I think Thee fit, though Envy be afloat. 
 
 To walk, a Peer, amid that learned Throng, 
 That, sweet in Fancy, and in Virtue strong, 
 Have sway'd the Ear of Glory with their Note. 
 
 When Time shall throw his Laurels on thy Herse, 
 And weeping Lays be sprinkled on thy Bier, 
 But be that long ! then thy immortal Verse 
 
 Shall be to Petrarch, and to Spenser dear ; 
 
 To whose sweet Souls Thou sweetly shalt rehearse 
 Thy Musick, bom for that Angelick Sphere !
 
 72 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, 
 
 THE PRINCE OF ORANGE AND NASSAU, 
 
 SOVEREIGN PRINCE OF THE NETHERLANDS. 
 
 1 HY Sovereign Honour, and Thy Kingly Sway, 
 Well blazon'd by the artful Poet's Song, 
 Shall save Thee, Orange, from th' unnumber'd Throng, 
 That, like the Leaves of Autumn, flit away, 
 
 Caird by sad Death to be ObUvion's Prey, 
 And over-heap'd by Time's invidious wrong : 
 Ah me, how many, thy sweet Peers among 
 Shall wail, lamenting, for their natal Day ! 
 
 But thou, a Star, that from the briny Foam 
 Is finely lighted in the sparkling Morn, 
 Shall burn in Glory to thy sacred Home, 
 
 And the wild Air, and Ocean well adorn : 
 I first of Poets, 'mid the darkling Gloom, 
 Saw thee to Light and fine Distinction born I
 
 73 
 
 ON BEHOLDING BODIAM CASTLE, 
 
 ON THE BAKK OF THE ROTHER, 
 
 IN SUSSEX. 
 
 \J THOU brave Ruin of the passed Time, 
 
 When glorious Spirits shone in burning Arms, 
 And the brave Trumpet, with its sweet Alarms, 
 Caird Honour! at the Matin Hour sublime, 
 
 And the grey Ev'ning ; thou hast had thy Prime, 
 And thy full Vigour, and the eating Harms 
 Of Age have robb'd Thee of thy warlike Charms, 
 And plac'd Thee here, an Image, in my Rhyme : 
 
 The Owl now haunts Thee, and Oblivion^s Plant, 
 The creeping Ivy, has o'er-veil'd thy Towers ; 
 And Rother, looking up with Eye askant. 
 
 Recalling to his Mind thy brighter Hours, 
 Laments the Time, when, fair and elegant, 
 Beautv first laugh M from out thy joyous Bowers ! 
 
 K
 
 74 
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN, LORD ELDON, 
 
 LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN, 
 
 HIGH STEWARD OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 
 
 LdiKB as the Lights, that on the globed Sphere 
 With fine Discernment to our Senses play, 
 And Night, and the divided Season svi^ay. 
 With Glory, and Adornment of the Year ; 
 Making what is, since making to appear 
 What God has planted, our Abode t' allay 
 With Pleasance and with Use, which else were Prey, 
 But for that Grace, to Sorrow and to Fear ; 
 So shine the Wise to our o'er-darken'd Sense, 
 That great Orion in just Thought is pale. 
 And Phosphor dim ; so thy bright Excellence 
 Against the Clouds of Evil doth avail ; 
 And, from thy pure and unhurt Eminence, 
 Above Them all, doth make th' ill-minded quail !
 
 ?5 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 ON THE 
 
 THIRTY-FIRST DAY OF DECEMBER. 
 
 W RAPT in a Mantle of dark Clouds, the Year, 
 The Winds now sleeping, in dim Rest expires. 
 And Julius* Walls * send forth their flashing Fires, 
 And shake with Thunder our rejoicing Sphere : 
 
 The Days of Agincourt again appear, 
 
 Poictiers, and Cressy, where our warlike Sires 
 Saint George first planted on the Gallic Spires, 
 And Paris shook, that London was so near ! 
 
 Bourdeaux, and Bayonne, view our tented Host, 
 
 Whose conquering Horses drink their Streamlets dry ; 
 The Netherlands to France again are lost ; 
 
 The Rhenish Princes from her Banners fly : 
 
 Then line the Ramparts, while this glorious Toast, 
 Th' IMMORTAL REGENT ! thunders to the Sky. 
 
 * The Tower, built bv Julius Caesar.
 
 Printed by Nichols, Son, and Bentley, 
 Rfd Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was tKMTOwed. 
 
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