STANZAS

OCCASIONED BY mr. pope's trANSLATION OF Horace,

BOOK IV. BOOK I.

ADDRESSED TO THE HONOURABLE MR. MURRAY.

WHILE Pope to friendship consecrates the lyre, The Loves to hear the notes assembled throng! And, with the softness of renew'd desire,

Inspire the dear re-animated song! Unrival'd bard, the kindly task forbear!

The youth before had worth too much to boast;
You, Orpheus-like, but raise the syren air,
The British nymphs approach!—your friend is
lost!

Hard fate! a praise so wish'd as yours to shun,
Or by the soft encomiums risk to be undone.

INSCRIPTION

DESIGNED FOR the pedestal OF A WHITE Marble sta-
TUE OF DIANA, TO BE FIXED AT THE ENTRY OF A SO-
LITARY WILDERNESS IN THE GARDENS AT EGLINTON
CASTLE.

STRANGER! lest rash Actæon's fate you prove,
With caution enter this distinguish'd grove,
To meditation sacred-not to love!
Hence Venus and her boy are banish'd far,
Their sportive sparrows, and their shining car!
But if thy heart in all its wishes be
Unsully'd, as the marble form you see,
Approv'd of by the goddess freely pass,
And view the native beauties of the place!
Where, oft descending with her lovely maids,
Confess'd they wander through these happy shades;
Shine in the deep recesses of the wood,
Or trace the flow'ry margin of the flood!
With lively looks appear, and cheerful hearts
Secure from love, and all its poison'd darts.

WRITTEN IN

MR. THOMSON'S ESSAYS ON LIBERTY. Nibil est fœdius servituti, ad decus et libertatem nati sumus-non potest parvo constare libertas, hanc si juste æstimas, omnia alia parvo æstimanda sunt. Cicero.

WHEN Liberty celestial goddess saw
Thomson's bold hand her matchless beauties draw;
Pleas'd, as the work intently she survey'd,

How bright the colours! and how strong the shade!
Fondly she cry'd-" In this immortal page,
My charms shall bloom untouch'd to latest age;
Though Britain should like Rome of old divide,
And sink the prey of luxury and pride!

Though every heart the love of me should lose,
Here shall they learn the blessings they refuse!
Though from this fav'rite isle, my last retreat!
Constrain'd I should be forc'd-and with regret :
Though servitude should overwhelm the ball,
Here I shall live!-and sigh to see the fall!"

TO SEMANTHE.

ODE.

FORGIVE, fair nymph, an unsuccessful lyre,

That would so bright a character essay; If tuneful numbers merit could inspire,

Yours should be sung the most distinguish'd way. Oft had I heard indeed the voice of fame

Repeat the wonders of Semanthe's youth; Till prepossess'd like Sheba's queen I came,

And found, like her, that fame fell short of truth. But different widely was our fate in this,

With Solomon conversing long she stay'd; I only snatch'd an accidental bliss,

Nor could I know the treasure I survey'd.
Yet as the smallest diamond's lustre shows

The genuine splendour of its parent mine;
So did her every charming thought disclose
Her soul, and with reflected value shine.
So soft the accents dwelt around her tongue,
Such reason sparkled in her lively thought;
Not sweeter notes divine Cecilia sung,

Not juster sentiments a Prior wrote!
Go on, accomplish'd fair! secure to charm,
Vain is resistance, and as vain were flight;
Submission only can our fate disarm,

Where sense and beauty, perfect thus, unite!
While intermingling virtues grace thy breast,
No wonder if so well they flourish there!
The soil so richly is by nature blest,

The climate is so like their native air.

So rich Sabæa's aromatic land

Does without toil its spicy products yield;
Odours profusely rise on every hand!
And native sweets embalm the happy field!

THE PARALLEL

ODE.

ALMERIA with an angel-face

Her form with pride surveys !

And, as she moves with matchless grace, The conquer'd world obeys!

Her eyes dispense resistless darts,
To set mankind on fire;
To youth she ecstasy imparts,
And to old age desire!

As the bright Sun, in Afric's clime, His burning beams displays; Alike her torrid beauties shine

So fierce, 't is fate to gaze!

Cecilia bless'd with milder charms
Takes gentler ways to please;
Insensibly the heart she warms,
And gains by soft degrees!

So Cynthia Heav'n's enliv'ning queen
Serenely sheds her ray!

Glides o'er the skies with placid mien,
And half restores the day.

Such is Cecilia!-sweetly bright,
Still easy-still the same!
She guides us with a pleasing light,
And cheers without a flame!

Happy, so near ally'd is found
The safety to the woe!

One sister's smiles relieve the wound,
The other's charms bestow.

ΤΟ

CLARISSA, WITH A ROSE-BUD.

ODE.

Quam longa una dies, ætas est tam longa rosarum.
Anon.

CLARISSA, view this newly-nascent rose,
How sweet its fragrance! but how short the date!
And think distinct the lovely emblem shows
Thy equal beauty's bloom, its equal fate.

Like that in fair perfection's opening dawn,
Your roseate charms the ravish'd sense delight;
Pass but a few short years, and then withdrawn,
They all must fade, conceal'd in endless night!

Yet from the parent-plant's exhausted side, See yon fair shoot its lively odours spread! Rising in early beauty's native pride,

And softly blushing with maternal red!

Then haste, thou beauteous charmer! to employ
The treasures which indulgent Nature gave;
Nor longer shun to taste the genial joy,
Which youth alone can give-alone receive!

So when dark Fate, irrevocably cross,
Shall snatch you hence to grace the radiant skies;
A self-born beauty may repair your loss,
A new Clarissa charm succeeding eyes!

The phenix so, amidst the spicy blaze
Consuming, does the fate of mortals shun;
The infant bird its radiant crest displays,
And men enjoy the rival of the Sun!

TO HILARIA.

ODE.

HILARIA is scarcely arriv'd at thirteen,
Her face is still infant, and childish her mien;
Yet in spite of her pains her good sense to conceal,

We know she has more than she cares to reveal.

As they say the first Brutus, suspected of treason,
With madness disguis'd the bright lustre of reason;
So she, with the frolicsome shows she puts on,
Would cover the wisdom must one day be shown.
She behaves, without ceasing from morning to night,
So gaily good-natur'd, so pleasantly light;
No soul could imagine, with all these mad airs,
She bore the whole burthen of family cares!

Oh say, thou dear trifler! delightfully wild,
In manners, in heart so resembling a child!
If thus your first dawn so engaging appears,
What joys must we hope from a dozen of years?

But your wit you well know does your age so excell,
You keep it so private for fear we should tell;
But in spite of your caution the secret gets way,
For no clouds can extinguish the light of the day!

TO ETHELINDA.

DUBIOUS of what repeating Fame had told,
The wondrous power of Ethelinda's face!
Too vainly curious, and too rashly bold,

I self-conducted sought the fatal place.
There sudden by th' enchanting flame inspir'd,
Reason no more her feeble sway could boast;
So Phaeton, by wild ambition fir'd,

Possess'd his wish, and by his wish was lost.

TO MARINDA, SINGING.

ODE.

Quæ voces avium-quantæ per inane volatus?
Claud.

WHE
HEN first Marinda's tuneful voice I heard,
With ecstasy unknown my breast was fir'd;
Each passion stood dissolv'd in soft regard,

I only gaz'd, and listen'd,—and admir'd!
Sense hung suspended on her warbling breath,
And what I felt was neither life nor death!

Since that dear moment in my thrilling ear
Th' inimitable accents ever rung!
No artful instrument my taste could bear,
My ear was deaf to every other song:
So those, who leave their native groves behind,
Still keep the favourite symphony in mind.

Again she sings !-my fond reviving ear
Drinks in the notes with unabated joy;
New beauties, unobserv'd before, appear,

Or graces, transport pass'd too slightly by!
So Raphael's draughts, though all they may delight,
Yet ask repeated views to judge them right.

Oh say, Marinda! by what matchless art
Nature in you has such perfections bound?
Has given your form dominion o'er the heart,
And added all the eloquence of sound!
The fugitive that from your charms would fly,
Stopp'd by your voice-returns to hear and die!
So Orpheus once with more than mortal song,

Recall'd his treasure from the realms of night! So bright Cæcilia's swelling measures strong

Rais'd the fair seraph to the fields of light! Such pow'r have sacred numbers when combin'd, To soften or exalt the human mind!

Nor blame if prepossess'd I give my voice,

And Music's force to beauty's charms compare; Angels themselves will vindicate the choice,

And own I justly fix the preference there! Since all we know of those bless'd forms above, Is that they're made of harmony and love.

THE ADVICE.

Sic visum Veneri, cui placet impares Formas atque animos sub jugâ ahenea Sævo mittere cum joco. Hor.

AURELIA, once the fairest maid

That grac'd the flow'ry plain; By Love, deceitful Love, betray'd, Has match'd a faithless swain !

By duty press'd, her struggling heart
Long made a secret stand;
Till love sustain'd the weaker part,
And Damon seiz'd her hand.

Deep in the grove-deserted youth!
The lost Mirandor mourns
That waste of tenderness and truth,
Which met such harsh returns!

"But late," he cries, "was fix'd the hour My eager hopes to crown;

My busy hands had dress'd the bow'r,
And grasp'd the joy my own!

"But oh, she's gone! my bleeding heart

Yet feels the recent wound :”.

He spoke when, from a neighb'ring part,
He heard a hollow sound!

The guardian pow'r, that watch'd the place,
Had heard the youth complain!
And, touch'd with pity for his case,
Thus sooth'd the shepherd's pain.
"Mirandor! cease with vain despair
To vex thy tortur'd breast;
See young Lucinda! heav'nly fair!
With truth and beauty bless'd.

"To her engaging presence haste,

She waits but to be kind;

There lose the thought of sorrows pass'd,

And lasting comfort find.

"The joys, the lovely nymph bestows,

Shall constant peace secure,

And Love himself, that caus'd thy woes,
Himself shall give the cure!"

ON THE MILITARY, PROCESSION OF

THE ROYAL COMPANY OF ARCHERS', AT EDINBURGH, JULY 8, 1734.

ODE.

Tum validis flexos incurvant viribus arcus,
Pro se quisque viri, et depromunt tela pharetris.
Virg.

YE martial breasts! the pride of Scotia's plain!
On this your fair revolving annual day;
Candid receive the Muse's faithful strain,

Who thus her tribute to your worth would pay:
Far though her numbers fall below her theme,
Accept her wishes, and approve her flame!
But too presumptive,-with unequal wing,
How shall she raise her emulative eye?
How in proportion to her rapture sing,

And to her fair idea ardent fly!

How paint the beauties of the warlike throng?
And mark the bright procession in her song!

Alas! assisted by no friendly pow'r,

How shail she dare to strike the sacred lyre?
Or shall she give the fav'rite project o'er,

And choose with silent safety to retire?
Fix'd be the task!--she feels unwonted aid,
Thy influence beams confess'd, celestial maid!
Oh, chaste Urania! dearest of the Nine,

With conscious joy I view thy matchless air!
Approach, array'd in every charm divine,

The subject well deserves thy guardian care.
Propitious on the rising labour shine,
And with thy warmth inspire the just design.

And thou great author of the tuneful art,

Illustrious god of day! and pow'r of verse! Who, with thy own inevitable dart,

Did'st once th' envenom'd Pythian monster pierce: Assist the Muse, in equal strains, to show The lasting honours of thy heav'nly bow!

The uniformity of habit in the members of this society, which is composed entirely of gentlemen of rank and fashion, the beauty of the habit itself, and the rich dresses of the officers, who are some of them of the first quality, conspire to render the march of this company one of the most elegant processions imaginable, both for its regularity and beauty. The dress is a la Romaine, composed of fine plaid, adorned with deep green silk fringes, and lined with white silk; white stockings, and white gloves, blue bonnets a l'Ecossois, with the image of St. Andrew enamelled, placed in a cockade of white and green ribband. Their belts are composed of the two last colours. In their right hand they bear their bow. in their belts are fastened two darts. The officers for distinction have their habits trimmed with deep silver fringes, and their bonnets of blue velvet, adorned with jewels. The counsellors, who are six in number, have bonnets of crimson velvet. Their drums, music, and other attendants are in the company's livery of green and white. Their two standards are most richly embroidered. His grace the duke of Hamilton is at present captain general, and his grace the duke of Queensberry, the right honourable the earls of Crawford, Cassils, Wemyss, and Wigton, with the right honourable the lords Kinnaird and Rollo, general officers.

Favour'd by thee, could matchless Pindar rise,

To vast imagination loose the reins! Could, free, expatiate through the boundless skies, And eternize the great olympic scenes: Generous contention !-not unlike your own, Where Virtue only won, and wore the crown.

The skill of archery, from oldest date,
Has been the glory of heroic hearts!
By this Alcides gain'd the name of great,

And freed the world with his resistless darts: From which, their doom imperial tyrants found, And Troy's proud walls were levell'd with the ground.

Such were the arms repell'd the Roman force, When Crassus by the Parthian arrow dy'd! These stopp'd the eagle in her rapid course,

And check'd the flight of her assuming pride! When bold Orodes scorn'd her lawless chain, And led to fight his valiant archer-train !

When Britain felt the same usurping yoke,
These arms preserv'd the Caledonian race;
Defy'd Rome's boasted pow'r, her legions broke,
And kept invincible their native place:
So Galgacus maintain'd his country free,
For archers still were friends to liberty!

By these, when Edward, with usurping aim,
Sought to enslave an independent land;
Immortal Wallace scorn'd th' unrighteous claim,
And made for freedom an illustrious stand:
For that oft triumph'd, and for that expir'd,
And left a name to latest times admir'd!

But hark! what lively sounds invade the ear! What warlike symphony approaches nigh? Behold in sight, the royal train appear!

Their radiant ensigns waving in the sky! On high the crimson'd lion seems to glow, And threaten death to each opposing foe!

Oh tell, Urania! who that godlike youth,

Who shines distinguish'd captain at their head? Whose soul with noble honour fir'd, and truth,

Exults the fair procession thus to lead! What dignity around his person plays, 'Tis Hamilton!-he needs no borrow'd rays.

But see, the cheerful band apace advance!
What mingling lights surprise the ravish'd eyes ?
The silver beams at distance softly glance,

And the rich plaid displays its vivid dyes!
While in the beauteous ranks that intervene,
The spotless white is mix'd with lively green.

Well-suited colours! happily combin'd! The fairest emblems of the social train; White as th' unsully'd temper of their mind,

And gaily verdant as their native plain ! From such fair order higher beauty springs, Than all the glittering pride of eastern kings!

Nor yet unmeaning is the lovely show,

Proceeding on to the appointed field; Each in his hand uprears the social bow,

Two darts may well supply the place of shield: For what are shield, or bow, or sword, or darts, To the firm vigour of undaunted hearts!

But oh! to speak each honour'd leader's worth,
To paint the virtues of the royal band!
Might raise Alceus to a second birth,

Or ask aspiring Pindar's lofty hand:
The milky-way to uninstructed sight,
Tho' form'd of stars, appears one train of light!

TO A GENTLEMAN,

WHO IN A POEM, DESCRIBING A LADY'S PERSON, OMITTED
HER HAND, WHICH WAS REMARKABLY BEAUTIFUL.

How could the Muse Amelia's charms repeat
Enamour'd?-yet the master-charm forget;
The matchless beauty of that taper hand,
To which fond Love has given such wide command;
There plac'd his quiver stor'd with deadly darts,
And all the equipage of queen of hearts!
Pow'r to reward or punish, save or kill,
And scatter fate, obedient to her will!
Perhaps too conscious of a theme so fair,
The bard resign'd the subject in despair;
To such a hand no common strains were due,
Lilies were pale, and snow inclin'd to blue.
Those hands where streams of living saphyre run,
And Parian marble seem'd itself outdone;
All vulgar similies were here too faint,
And so the piece was lost--for want of paint.
Or else bewilder'd in the maze of light,

Like those who sail by Zembla's icy coast;
His Muse was dazzled with too great a light,
And miss'd the part deserv'd his notice most.

Or was hid malice all the poet's aim?
He knew the hand from whence the mischief came;
(The fatal hand that threw the deadly dart
Transmissive, thro' the hapless shepherd's heart!)
And, not content to bear his fate alone,
Left others, like himself, to be undone.

So in the curious chart is oft laid down

The dangerous shoal, that ships are taught to shun; But faithless guides!- -some rock unmark'd remains,

That mocks the merchant's hope, and pilot's pains!
Who guided by description tempt their fate,
As those, who trust to thine, will find too late.

THE first all-charming mother of mankind,
Heav'n with an angel-face and form array'd;
Yet left, alas! her nobler part, the mind,
Defenceless, easily to be betray'd!

How widely has the dire distemper spread
Amongst the lovely daughters of her race!
How few the soul their better care have made!
How fondly studious to improve the face?
Vain toil! were virtue the supremest choice,
And beauty left to nature's friendly care,
Earth would once more resemble Paradise,
And every female would be doubly fair.

PART III.

Nihil infelicius eo, cui nihil unquam evenit adversi, non enim licuit, tali sese experire. Seneca. Exilium terribile est iis quibus quasi conscriptus est habitandi locus, non iis qui omnem terrarum orbem unam esse urbem ducunt. Cicero.

THE ANNIVERSARY MOURNER.

А РОЕМ.

Dies (ni fallor) adest, quem semper acerbum Semper honoratum, sic dî voluistis! habebo. Virg. NINE years were past, and now the tenth arose, When, sad reclin'd on Thames' delightful shore, Mark'd with misfortunes, and replete with woes! The Muse began her sorrows to deplore.

"Oh Night, whose mantle o'er the world is spread, Receive me in thy hospitable shade! Do thou inspire me !-let thy friendly gloom Assist my grief! and give reflection room, To view the horrours of that fatal day, That snatch'd the father, and the friend away! Fill'd my poor heart with anguish and despair, And left me naked to a world of care!

"How shalt thou tell, what words can never paint, The shining virtues of the mortal saint? For such his equal life, compos'd and ev'n As seem'd a pattern of descending Heav'n; Some guardian-angel taught his rising youth The cheerful love of piety and truth! So early was his soul by these inspir'd, They seem'd in him as native, not acquir'd; But 'midst the graces that adorn'd his breast, Soft smiling Charity, celestial guest! With rays distinguish'd shone above the rest : And all his actions in one point combin'd, The love of God and welfare of mankind! His fervent zeal descended from above, Still calmly mild, and temper'd still with love, Taught him to pity such as went astray, And led him not to persecute, but pray. In him Religion, pure and unarray'd, Her irresistless native charms display'd; At once enliv'ning, cheerful, and serene, Void of all arts, and free from every stain !

"Nor need the Muse, to make his merit known, Tell how in public life it brightly shone, While parties join'd his real worth to own; Ev'n those his conscience led him to oppose In private conduct were no more his foes; With unconstrain'd applause his life approv'd, His character esteem'd, his person lov'd; Would for his converse eagerly contend, And thought it honour to be call'd his friend! "How did his wondrous conversation shine? At once instructive, pleasing, and divine! Such beav'nly candour dwelt upon his tongue, As comforted old age, and charm'd the young! Still so endearing, that where he appear'd, Each eye grew livelier, every heart was cheer'd; Pain stood suspended, sorrow fled away, And every face was innocently gay!

"How just the sentiments? how strong the strain, In which he did the scripture-truths explain, And show Religion beautifully plain! How did he ardent all her joys reveal, And on her sacred charms enraptur'd dwell!