SCENE XIII.

HASAN, CARAZA, MUSTAPHA, MURZA.

MUSTAPHA _to_ MURZA.

What plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee,

Thou sluggish idler, dilatory slave!

Behold the model of consummate beauty,

Torn from the mourning earth by thy neglect.

MURZA.

Such was the will of heav'n--A band of Greeks,

That mark'd my course, suspicious of my purpose,

Rush'd out and seiz'd me, thoughtless and unarm'd,

Breathless, amaz'd, and on the guarded beach

Detain'd me, till Demetrius set me free.

MUSTAPHA.

So sure the fall of greatness, rais'd on crimes!

So fix'd the justice of all conscious heav'n!

When haughty guilt exults with impious joy,

Mistake shall blast, or accident destroy;

Weak man, with erring rage, may throw the dart,

But heav'n shall guide it to the guilty heart.

EPILOGUE.

BY SIR WILLIAM YONGE.

Marry a Turk! a haughty, tyrant king!

Who thinks us women born to dress and sing

To please his fancy! see no other man!

Let him persuade me to it--if he can;

Besides, he has fifty wives; and who can bear

To have the fiftieth part, her paltry share?

'Tis true, the fellow's handsome, straight, and tall,

But how the devil should he please us all!

My swain is little--true--but, be it known,

My pride's to have that little all my own.

Men will be ever to their errours blind,

Where woman's not allow'd to speak her mind.

I swear this eastern pageantry is nonsense,

And for one man--one wife's enough in conscience.

In vain proud man usurps what's woman's due;

For us, alone, they honour's paths pursue:

Inspir'd by us, they glory's heights ascend;

Woman the source, the object, and the end.

Though wealth, and pow'r, and glory, they receive,

These are all trifles to what we can give.

For us the statesman labours, hero fights,

Bears toilsome days, and wakes long tedious nights;

And, when blest peace has silenc'd war's alarms;

Receives his full reward in beauty's arms.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

PROLOGUE;

SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK, APRIL 5, 1750, BEFORE

THE MASQUE OF COMUS.

Acted at Drury lane theatre, for the benefit of Milton's

granddaughter[a].

Ye patriot crowds, who burn for England's fame,

Ye nymphs, whose bosoms beat at Milton's name;

Whose gen'rous zeal, unbought by flatt'ring rhymes,

Shames the mean pensions of Augustan times;

Immortal patrons of succeeding days,

Attend this prelude of perpetual praise;

Let wit, condemn'd the feeble war to wage

With close malevolence, or publick rage;

Let study, worn with virtue's fruitless lore,

Behold this theatre, and grieve no more.

This night, distinguish'd by your smiles, shall tell,

That never Britain can in vain excel;

The slighted arts futurity shall trust,

And rising ages hasten to be just.

At length, our mighty bard's victorious lays

Fill the loud voice of universal praise;

And baffled spite, with hopeless anguish dumb,

Yields to renown the centuries to come;

With ardent haste each candidate of fame,

Ambitious, catches at his tow'ring name;

He sees, and pitying sees, vain wealth bestow

Those pageant honours, which he scorn'd below;

While crowds aloft the laureate bust behold,

Or trace his form on circulating gold.

Unknown, unheeded, long his offspring lay,

And want hung threat'ning o'er her slow decay,

What, though she shine with no Miltonian fire,

No fav'ring muse her morning dreams inspire;

Yet softer claims the melting heart engage,

Her youth laborious, and her blameless age;

Her's the mild merits of domestick life,

The patient sufferer, and the faithful wife.

Thus, grac'd with humble virtue's native charms,

Her grandsire leaves her in Britannia's arms;

Secure with peace, with competence, to dwell,

While tutelary nations guard her cell.

Yours is the charge, ye fair, ye wise, ye brave!

'Tis yours to crown desert--beyond the grave.

[a] See Life of Milton.

PROLOGUE

TO THE COMEDY OF THE GOOD-NATUR'D MAN, 1769,

Prest by the load of life, the weary mind

Surveys the gen'ral toil of human kind;

With cool submission joins the lab'ring train,

And social sorrow loses half its pain:

Our anxious bard, without complaint, may share

This bustling season's epidemick care;

Like Caesar's pilot, dignify'd by fate,

Tost in one common storm with all the great;

Distrest alike the statesman and the wit,

When one a borough courts, and one the pit.

The busy candidates for pow'r and fame

Have hopes, and fears, and wishes, just the same;

Disabled both to combat or to fly,

Must hear all taunts, and hear without reply.

Uncheck'd on both loud rabbles vent their rage,

As mongrels bay the lion in a cage.

Th' offended burgess hoards his angry tale,

For that blest year, when all that vote may rail;

Their schemes of spite the poet's foes dismiss,

Till that glad night, when all that hate may hiss.

"This day the powder'd curls and golden coat,"

Says swelling Crispin, "begg'd a cobbler's vote."

"This night our wit," the pert apprentice cries,

"Lies at my feet; I hiss him, and he dies."

The great, 'tis true, can charm th' electing tribe;

The bard may supplicate, but cannot bribe.

Yet, judg'd by those whose voices ne'er were sold,

He feels no want of ill persuading gold;

But, confident of praise, if praise be due,

Trusts, without fear, to merit and to you.

PROLOGUE

TO THE COMEDY OF A WORK TO THE WISE[a]

SPOKEN BY MR. HULL.

This night presents a play, which publick rage,

Or right, or wrong, once hooted from the stage[b].

From zeal or malice, now, no more we dread,

For English vengeance wars not with the dead.

A gen'rous foe regards, with pitying eye,

The man whom fate has laid, where all must lie.

To wit, reviving from its author's dust,

Be kind, ye judges, or at least be just.

For no renew'd hostilities invade

Th' oblivious grave's inviolable shade.

Let one great payment ev'ry claim appease;

And him, who cannot hurt, allow to please;

To please by scenes, unconscious of offence,

By harmless merriment, or useful sense.

Where aught of bright, or fair, the piece displays,

Approve it only--'tis too late to praise.

If want of skill, or want of care appear,

Forbear to hiss--the poet cannot hear.

By all, like him, must praise and blame be found,

At best a fleeting gleam, or empty sound.

Yet, then, shall calm reflection bless the night,

When lib'ral pity dignify'd delight;

When pleasure fir'd her torch at virtue's flame,

And mirth was bounty with an humbler name.

[a] Performed at Covent garden theatre in 1777, for the benefit of Mrs.

Kelly, widow of Hugh Kelly, esq. (the author of the play,) and her

children.

[b] Upon the first representation of this play, 1770, a party assembled

to damn it, and succeeded.

SPRING;

AN ODE.

Stern winter now, by spring repress'd,

Forbears the long-continued strife;

And nature, on her naked breast,

Delights to catch the gales of life.

Now o'er the rural kingdom roves

Soft pleasure with the laughing train,

Love warbles in the vocal groves,

And vegetation plants the plain.

Unhappy! whom to beds of pain,

Arthritick[a] tyranny consigns;

Whom smiling nature courts in vain,

Though rapture sings, and beauty shines.

Yet though my limbs disease invades,

Her wings imagination tries,

And bears me to the peaceful shades,

Where--s humble turrets rise;

Here stop, my soul, thy rapid flight,

Nor from the pleasing groves depart,

Where first great nature charm'd my sight,

Where wisdom first inform'd my heart.

Here let me through the vales pursue

A guide--a father--and a friend,

Once more great nature's works renew,

Once more on wisdom's voice attend.

From false caresses, causeless strife,

Wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd,

Here let me learn the use of life,

When best enjoy'd--when most improv'd.

Teach me, thou venerable bower,

Cool meditation's quiet seat,

The gen'rous scorn of venal power,

The silent grandeur of retreat.

When pride, by guilt, to greatness climbs,

Or raging factions rush to war,

Here let me learn to shun the crimes,

I can't prevent, and will not share.

But, lest I fall by subtler foes,

Bright wisdom, teach me Curio's art,

The swelling passions to compose,

And quell the rebels of the heart.

[a] The author being ill of the gout.

MIDSUMMER;

AN ODE.

O Phoebus! down the western sky,

Far hence diffuse thy burning ray,

Thy light to distant worlds supply,

And wake them to the cares of day.

Come, gentle eve, the friend of care,

Come, Cynthia, lovely queen of night!

Refresh me with a cooling air,

And cheer me with a lambent light:

Lay me, where o'er the verdant ground

Her living carpet nature spreads;

Where the green bow'r, with roses crown'd,

In show'rs its fragrant foliage sheds;

Improve the peaceful hour with wine;

Let musick die along the grove;

Around the bowl let myrtles twine,

And ev'ry strain be tun'd to love.

Come, Stella, queen of all my heart!

Come, born to fill its vast desires!

Thy looks perpetual joys impart,

Thy voice perpetual love inspires.

Whilst, all my wish and thine complete,

By turns we languish and we burn,

Let sighing gales our sighs repeat,

Our murmurs--murmuring brooks return,

Let me, when nature calls to rest,

And blushing skies the morn foretell,

Sink on the down of Stella's breast,

And bid the waking world farewell.

AUTUMN;

AN ODE.

Alas! with swift and silent pace,

Impatient time rolls on the year;

The seasons change, and nature's face

Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe,

'Twas spring, 'twas summer, all was gay,

Now autumn bends a cloudy brow;

The flow'rs of spring are swept away,

And summer-fruits desert the bough.

The verdant leaves, that play'd on high,

And wanton'd on the western breeze,

Now, trod in dust, neglected lie,

As Boreas strips the bending trees.

The fields, that way'd with golden grain,

As russet heaths, are wild and bare;

Not moist with dew, but drench'd with rain,

Nor health, nor pleasure, wanders there.

No more, while through the midnight shade,

Beneath the moon's pale orb I stray,

Soft pleasing woes my heart invade,

As Progne pours the melting lay.

From this capricious clime she soars,

Oh! would some god but wings supply!

To where each morn the spring restores,

Companion of her flight I'd fly.

Vain wish! me fate compels to bear

The downward season's iron reign;

Compels to breathe polluted air,

And shiver on a blasted plain.

What bliss to life can autumn yield,

If glooms, and show'rs, and storms prevail,

And Ceres flies the naked field,

And flowers, and fruits, and Phoebus fail?

Oh! what remains, what lingers yet,

To cheer me in the dark'ning hour!

The grape remains! the friend of wit,

In love, and mirth, of mighty pow'r.

Haste--press the clusters, fill the bowl;

Apollo! shoot thy parting ray:

This gives the sunshine of the soul,

This god of health, and verse, and day.

Still--still the jocund strain shall flow,

The pulse with vig'rous rapture beat;

My Stella with new charms shall glow,

And ev'ry bliss in wine shall meet.

WINTER;

AN ODE.

No more tire morn, with tepid rays,

Unfolds the flow'r of various hue;

Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,

Nor gentle eve distils the dew.

The ling'ring hours prolong the night,

Usurping darkness shares the day;

Her mists restrain the force of light,

And Phoebus holds a doubtful sway.

By gloomy twilight, half reveal'd,

With sighs we view the hoary hill,

The leafless wood, the naked field,

The snow-topp'd cot, the frozen rill.

No musick warbles through the grove,

No vivid colours paint the plain;

No more, with devious steps, I rove

Through verdant paths, now sought in vain.

Aloud the driving tempest roars,

Congeal'd, impetuous show'rs descend;

Haste, close the window, bar the doors,

Fate leaves me Stella, and a friend.

In nature's aid, let art supply

With light and heat my little sphere;

Rouse, rouse the fire, and pile it high,

Light up a constellation here.

Let musick sound the voice of joy,

Or mirth repeat the jocund tale;

Let love his wanton wiles employ,

And o'er the season wine prevail.

Yet time life's dreary winter brings,

When mirth's gay tale shall please no more

Nor musick charm--though Stella sings;

Nor love, nor wine, the spring restore.

Catch, then, Oh! catch the transient hour,

Improve each moment as it flies;

Life's a short summer--man a flow'r:

He dies--alas! how soon he dies!

THE WINTER'S WALK.

Behold, my fair, where'er we rove,

What dreary prospects round us rise;

The naked hill, the leafless grove,

The hoary ground, the frowning skies!

Nor only through the wasted plain,

Stern winter! is thy force confess'd;

Still wider spreads thy horrid reign,

I feel thy pow'r usurp my breast.

Enliv'ning hope, and fond desire,

Resign the heart to spleen and care;

Scarce frighted love maintains her fire,

And rapture saddens to despair.

In groundless hope, and causeless fear,

Unhappy man! behold thy doom;

Still changing with the changeful year,

The slave of sunshine and of gloom.

Tir'd with vain joys, and false alarms,

With mental and corporeal strife,

Snatch me, my Stella, to thy arms,

And screen me from the ills of life[a].

[a] And _hide_ me from the _sight_ of life. 1st edition.

TO MISS ****

ON HER GIVING THE AUTHOR A GOLD AND SILK NETWORK PURSE OF HER OWN

WEAVING[a].

Though gold and silk their charms unite

To make thy curious web delight,

In vain the varied work would shine,

If wrought by any hand but thine;

Thy hand, that knows the subtler art

To weave those nets that catch the heart.

Spread out by me, the roving coin

Thy nets may catch, but not confine;

Nor can I hope thy silken chain

The glitt'ring vagrants shall restrain.

Why, Stella, was it then decreed,

The heart, once caught, should ne'er be freed?

[a] Printed among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies.

TO MISS ****

ON HER PLAYING UPON THE HARPSICHORD, IN A ROOM HUNG WITH FLOWER-PIECES

OF HER OWN PAINTING[a].

When Stella strikes the tuneful string,

In scenes of imitated spring,

Where beauty lavishes her pow'rs

On beds of never-fading flow'rs,

And pleasure propagates around

Each charm of modulated sound;

Ah! think not, in the dang'rous hour,

The nymph fictitious as the flow'r;

But shun, rash youth, the gay alcove,

Nor tempt the snares of wily love.

When charms thus press on ev'ry sense,

What thought of flight, or of defence?

Deceitful hope, and vain desire,

For ever flutter o'er her lyre,

Delighting, as the youth draws nigh,

To point the glances of her eye,

And forming, with unerring art,

New chains to hold the captive heart.

But on those regions of delight

Might truth intrude with daring flight,

Could Stella, sprightly, fair, and young,

One moment hear the moral song,

Instruction, with her flowers, might spring,

And wisdom warble from her string.

Mark, when from thousand mingled dies

Thou seest one pleasing form arise,

How active light, and thoughtful shade

In greater scenes each other aid;

Mark, when the different notes agree

In friendly contrariety,

How passion's well-accorded strife

Gives all the harmony of life;

Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame,

Consistent still, though not the same;

Thy musick teach the nobler art,

To tune the regulated heart.

[a] Printed among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies.

EVENING; AN ODE.

TO STELLA.

Ev'ning now from purple wings

Sheds the grateful gifts she brings;

Brilliant drops bedeck the mead,

Cooling breezes shake the reed;

Shake the reed, and curl the stream,

Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam;

Near the checquer'd, lonely grove,

Hears, and keeps thy secrets, love.

Stella, thither let us stray,

Lightly o'er the dewy way.

Phoebus drives his burning car

Hence, my lovely Stella, far;

In his stead, the queen of night

Round us pours a lambent light;

Light, that seems but just to show

Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow.

Let us now, in whisper'd joy,

Ev'ning's silent hours employ;

Silence best, and conscious shades,

Please the hearts that love invades;

Other pleasures give them pain,

Lovers all but love disdain.

TO THE SAME.

Whether Stella's eyes are found

Fix'd on earth, or glancing round,

If her face with pleasure glow,

If she sigh at others' woe,

If her easy air express

Conscious worth, or soft distress,

Stella's eyes, and air, and face,

Charm with undiminish'd grace.

If on her we see display'd

Pendent gems, and rich brocade;

If her chints with less expense

Flows in easy negligence;

Still she lights the conscious flame,

Still her charms appear the same;

If she strikes the vocal strings,

If she's silent, speaks, or sings,

If she sit, or if she move,

Still we love, and still approve.

Vain the casual, transient glance,

Which alone can please by chance;

Beauty, which depends on art,

Changing with the changing heart,

Which demands the toilet's aid,

Pendent gems and rich brocade.

I those charms alone can prize,

Which from constant nature rise,

Which nor circumstance, nor dress,

E'er can make, or more, or less.

TO A FRIEND.

No more thus brooding o'er yon heap,

With av'rice, painful vigils keep;

Still unenjoy'd the present store,

Still endless sighs are breath'd for more.

Oh! quit the shadow, catch the prize,

Which not all India's treasure buys!

To purchase heav'n has gold the power?

Can gold remove the mortal hour?

In life, can love be bought with gold?

Are friendship's pleasures to be sold?

No--all that's worth a wish--a thought,

Fair virtue gives unbrib'd, unbought.

Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind,

Let nobler views engage thy mind.

With science tread the wondrous way,

Or learn the muses' moral lay;

In social hours indulge thy soul,

Where mirth and temp'rance mix the bowl;

To virtuous love resign thy breast,

And be, by blessing beauty--blest.

Thus taste the feast, by nature spread,

Ere youth, and all its joys are fled;

Come, taste with me the balm of life,

Secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife.

I boast whate'er for man was meant,

In health, and Stella, and content;

And scorn! oh! let that scorn be thine!

Mere things of clay that dig the mine.

STELLA IN MOURNING.

When lately Stella's form display'd

The beauties of the gay brocade,

The nymphs, who found their pow'r decline,

Proclaim'd her not so fair as fine.

"Fate! snatch away the bright disguise,

And let the goddess trust her eyes."

Thus blindly pray'd the fretful fair,

And fate malicious heard the pray'r;

But, brighten'd by the sable dress,

As virtue rises in distress,

Since Stella still extends her reign,

Ah! how shall envy sooth her pain?

Th' adoring youth and envious fair,

Henceforth, shall form one common prayer:

And love and hate, alike, implore

The skies--"That Stella mourn no more."

TO STELLA.

Not the soft sighs of vernal gales,

The fragrance of the flow'ry vales,

The murmurs of the crystal rill,

The vocal grove, the verdant hill;

Not all their charms, though all unite,

Can touch my bosom with delight.

Not all the gems on India's shore,

Not all Peru's unbounded store,

Not all the power, nor all the fame,

That heroes, kings, or poets claim;

Nor knowledge, which the learn'd approve;

To form one wish my soul can move.

Yet nature's charms allure my eyes,

And knowledge, wealth, and fame I prize;

Fame, wealth, and knowledge I obtain,

Nor seek I nature's charms in vain;

In lovely Stella all combine;

And, lovely Stella! thou art mine.

VERSES,

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A GENTLEMAN, TO WHOM A LADY HAD GIVEN A SPRIG

OF MYRTLE [a].

What hopes, what terrours, does thy gift create!

Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate!

The myrtle (ensign of supreme command,

Consign'd by Venus to Melissa's hand)

Not less capricious than a reigning fair,

Oft favours, oft rejects, a lover's pray'r.

In myrtle shades oft sings the happy swain,

In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain.

The myrtle crowns the happy lovers' heads,

Th' unhappy lovers' graves the myrtle spreads.

Oh! then, the meaning of thy gift impart,

And ease the throbbings of an anxious heart.

Soon must this bough, as you shall fix its doom,

Adorn Philander's head, or grace his tomb.

[a] These verses were first printed in the Gentleman's Magazine for

1768, p. 439, but were written many years earlier. Elegant as they

are, Dr. Johnson assured me, they were composed in the short space

of five minutes.--N.

TO LADY FIREBRACE[a].

AT BURY ASSIZES.

At length, must Suffolk beauties shine in vain,

So long renown'd in B--n's deathless strain?

Thy charms, at least, fair Firebrace, might inspire

Some zealous bard to wake the sleeping lyre;

For, such thy beauteous mind and lovely face,

Thou seem'st at once, bright nymph, a muse and grace.

[a] This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, esq. of

Ipswich, and relict of Philip Evers, esq. of that town. She became

the second wife of sir Cordell Firebrace, the last baronet of that

name, to whom she brought a fortune of 25,000 pounds, July 26, 1737.

Being again left a widow, in 1759, she was a third time married,

April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, esq. uncle to the late duke of

Argyle, and died July 3, 1782.

TO LYCE,

AN ELDERLY LADY.

Ye nymphs, whom starry rays invest,

By flatt'ring poets given;

Who shine, by lavish lovers drest,

In all the pomp of heaven;

Engross not all the beams on high,

Which gild a lover's lays;

But, as your sister of the sky,

Let Lyce share the praise.

Her silver locks display the moon,

Her brows a cloudy show,

Strip'd rainbows round her eyes are seen,

And show'rs from either flow.

Her teeth the night with darkness dies,

She's starr'd with pimples o'er;

Her tongue, like nimble lightning, plies,

And can with thunder roar.

But some Zelinda, while I sing,

Denies my Lyce shines;

And all the pens of Cupid's wing

Attack my gentle lines.

Yet, spite of fair Zelinda's eye,

And all her bards express,

My Lyce makes as good a sky,

And I but flatter less.

ON THE DEATH OF

MR. ROBERT LEVET[a],

A PRACTISER IN PHYSICK.

Condemn'd to hope's delusive mine,

As on we toil, from day to day,

By sudden blasts, or slow decline,

Our social comforts drop away.

Well try'd, through many a varying year,

See Levet to the grave descend,

Officious, innocent, sincere,

Of ev'ry friendless name the friend.

Yet still he fills affection's eye,

Obscurely wise, and coarsely kind;

Nor, letter'd arrogance, deny

Thy praise to merit unrefined.

When fainting nature call'd for aid,

And hov'ring death prepar'd the blow,

His vig'rous remedy display'd

The pow'r of art, without the show.

In mis'ry's darkest cavern known,

His useful care was ever nigh,

Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan,

And lonely want retir'd to die.

No summons, mock'd by chill delay,

No petty gain, disdain'd by pride;

The modest wants of ev'ry day

The toil of ev'ry day supply'd.

His virtues walk'd their narrow round,

Nor made a pause, nor left a void;

And sure the eternal master found

The single talent well-employ'd.

The busy day--the peaceful night,

Unfelt, uncounted, glided by;

His frame was firm--his pow'rs were bright,

Though now his eightieth year was nigh.

Then, with no fiery throbbing pain,

No cold gradations of decay,

Death broke, at once, the vital chain,

And freed his soul the nearest way.

[a] These stanzas, to adopt the words of Dr. Drake, "are warm from the

heart; and this is the only poem, from the pen of Johnson, that has

been bathed with tears." Levet was Johnson's constant and attentive

companion, for near forty years; he was a practitioner in physic,

among the lower class of people, in London. Humanity, rather than

desire of gain, seems to have actuated this single hearted and

amiable being; and never were the virtues of charity recorded in

more touching strains. "I am acquainted," says Dr. Drake, "with

nothing superior to them in the productions of the moral muse." See

Drake's Literary Life of Johnson; and Boswell, i. ii. iii. iv.--ED.

EPITAPH ON CLAUDE PHILLIPS,

AN ITINERANT MUSICIAN[a].

Phillips! whose touch harmonious could remove

The pangs of guilty pow'r, and hapless love,

Rest here, distress'd by poverty no more,

Find here that calm thou gay'st so oft before;

Sleep, undisturb'd, within this peaceful shrine,

Till angels wake thee, with a note like thine.

[a] These lines are among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies: they are,

nevertheless, recognised as Johnson's, in a memorandum of his

handwriting, and were probably written at her request. This Phillips

was a fiddler, who travelled up and down Wales, and was much

celebrated for his skill. The above epitaph, according to Mr.

Boswell, won the applause of lord Kames, prejudiced against Johnson

as he was. It was published in Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies, and

was, at first, ascribed to Garrick, from its appearing with the

signature G.--Garrick, however, related, that they were composed,

almost impromptu, by Johnson, on hearing some lines on the subject,

by Dr. Wilkes, which he disapproved. See Boswell, i. 126, where is,

likewise, preserved an epigram, by Johnson, on Colley Cibber and

George the second, whose illiberal treatment of artists and learned

men was a constant theme of his execration. As it has not yet been

inserted among Johnson's works, we will present it to the readers of

the present edition, in this note.

EPITAPHIUM[a]

IN

THOMAM HANMER, BARONETTUM.

Honorabilis admodum THOMAS HANMER,

Baronnettus,

Augustus still survives in Maro's strain,

And Spenser's verse prolongs Eliza's reign;

Great George's acts let tuneful Gibber sing;

For nature formed the poet for the king.

Wilhelmi Hanmer armigeri, e Peregrina Henrici

North

De Mildenhall, in Com. Suffolciae, baronetti sorore

et haerede,

Filius;

Johannis Hanmer de Hanmer baronetti

Haeres patruelis

Antiquo gentis suae et titulo et patrimonio successit.

Duas uxores sortitus est;

Alteram Isabellam, honore a patre derivato, de

Arlington comitissam,

Deinde celsissimi principis, ducis de Grafton, viduam

dotariam:

Alteram Elizabetham, Thomae Foulkes de Barton, in

Com. Suff. armigeri

Filiam et haeredem.

Inter humanitatis studia feliciter enutritus,

Omnes liberalium artium disciplinas avide arripuit,

Quas morum suavitate baud leviter ornavit,

Postquam excessit ex ephebis,

Continuo inter populares suos fama eminens,

Et comitatus sui legatus ad parliamentum missus,

Ad ardua regni negotia, per annos prope triginta,

se accinxit:

Cumque, apud illos amplissimorum virorum ordines,

Solent nihil temere effutire,

Sed probe perpensa diserte expromere,

Orator gravis et pressus,

Non minus integritatis quam eloquentiae laude

commendatus,

Aeque omnium, utcunque inter se alioqui dissidentium,

Aures atque arrimos attraxit.

Annoque demum M.DCC.XIII. regnante Anna,

Felicissimae florentissimaeque memoriae regina,

Ad prolocutoris cathedram,

Communi senatus universi voce, designatus est:

Quod munus,

Cum nullo tempore non difficile,

Tum illo certe, negotiis

Et variis, et lubricis, et implicatis, difficillimum,

Cum dignitate sustinuit.

Honores alios, et omnia quae sibi in lucrum cederent

munera,

Sedulo detrectavit,

Ut rei totus inserviret publicae;

Justi rectique tenax,

Et fide in patriam incorrupta notus.

Ubi omnibus, quae virum civemque bonum decent,

officiis satisfecisset,

Paulatim se a publicis consiliis in otium recipiens,

Inter literarum amoenitates,

Inter ante-actae vitae baud insuaves recordationes,

Inter amicorum convictus et amplexus,

Honorifice consenuit;

Et bonis omnibus, quibus charissimus vixit,

Desideratissimus obiit.

Hie, juxta cineres avi, suos condi voluit, et curavit

Gulielmus Bunbury B'ttus, nepos et haeres.

PARAPHRASE OF THE ABOVE EPITAPH.

BY DR. JOHNSON (b).

Thou, who survey'st these walls with curious eye,

Pause at the tomb, where Hanmer's ashes lie;

His various worth, through vary'd life, attend,

And learn his virtues, while thou mourn'st his end.

His force of genius burn'd, in early youth,

With thirst of knowledge, and with love of truth;

His learning, join'd with each endearing art,

Charm'd ev'ry ear, and gain'd on ev'ry heart.

Thus early wise, th' endanger'd realm to aid,

His country call'd him from the studious shade;

In life's first bloom his publick toils began,

At once commenc'd the senator and man.

In bus'ness dext'rous, weighty in debate,

Thrice ten long years he labour'd for the state;

In ev'ry speech persuasive wisdom flow'd,

In ev'ry act refulgent virtue glow'd:

Suspended faction ceas'd from rage and strife,

To hear his eloquence, and praise his life.

Resistless merit fix'd the senate's choice,

Who hail'd him speaker, with united voice.

Illustrious age! how bright thy glories shone,

When Hanmer fill'd the chair--and Anne the throne!

Then, when dark arts obscur'd each fierce debate,

When mutual frauds perplex'd the maze of state,

The moderator firmly mild appear'd--

Beheld with love--with veneration heard.

This task perform'd--he sought no gainful post,

Nor wish'd to glitter, at his country's cost:

Strict on the right he fix'd his steadfast eye,

With temp'rate zeal and wise anxiety;

Nor e'er from virtue's paths was lur'd aside,

To pluck the flow'rs of pleasure, or of pride.

Her gifts despis'd, corruption blush'd, and fled,

And fame pursu'd him, where conviction led.

Age call'd, at length, his active mind to rest,

With honour sated, and with cares oppress'd;

To letter'd ease retir'd, and honest mirth,

To rural grandeur and domestick worth;

Delighted still to please mankind, or mend,

The patriot's fire yet sparkled in the friend.

Calm conscience, then, his former life survey'd,

And recollected toils endear'd the shade,

Till nature call'd him to the gen'ral doom,

And virtue's sorrow dignified his tomb.

[a] At Hanmer church, in Flintshire.

[b] This paraphrase is inserted in Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies. The

Latin is there said to be written by Dr. Freind. Of the person whose

memory it celebrates, a copious account may be seen in the appendix

to the supplement to the Biographia Britannica.

TO MISS HICKMAN[a],

PLAYING ON THE SPINET.

Bright Stella, form'd for universal reign,

Too well you know to keep the slaves you gain;

When in your eyes resistless lightnings play,

Aw'd into love our conquer'd hearts obey,

And yield reluctant to despotick sway:

But, when your musick sooths the raging pain,

We bid propitious heav'n prolong your reign,

We bless the tyrant, and we hug the chain.

When old Timotheus struck the vocal string,

Ambition's fury fir'd the Grecian king:

Unbounded projects lab'ring in his mind,

He pants for room, in one poor world confin'd.

Thus wak'd to rage, by musick's dreadful pow'r,

He bids the sword destroy, the flame devour.

Had Stella's gentle touches mov'd the lyre,

Soon had the monarch felt a nobler fire;

No more delighted with destructive war,

Ambitious only now to please the fair,

Resign'd his thirst of empire to her charms,

And found a thousand worlds in Stella's arms.

[a] These lines, which have been communicated by Dr. Turton, son to Mrs.

Turton, the lady to whom they are addressed by her maiden name of

Hickman, must have been written, at least, as early as 1734, as that

was the year of her marriage: at how much earlier a period of Dr.

Johnson's life they might have been written, is not known.

PARAPHRASE OF PROVERBS, CHAP. VI.

VERSES 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11.

_"Go to the ant, thou sluggard[a]_."

Turn on the prudent ant thy heedful eyes,

Observe her labours, sluggard, and be wise:

No stern command, no monitory voice,

Prescribes her duties, or directs her choice;

Yet, timely provident, she hastes away,

To snatch the blessings of the plenteous day;

When fruitful summer loads the teeming plain,

She crops the harvest, and she stores the grain.

How long shall sloth usurp thy useless hours,

Unnerve thy vigour, and enchain thy pow'rs;

While artful shades thy downy couch inclose,

And soft solicitation courts repose?

Amidst the drowsy charms of dull delight,

Year chases year with unremitted flight,

Till want now following, fraudulent and slow,

Shall spring to seize thee like an ambush'd foe.

[a] First printed in Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies.

HORACE, LIB. IV. ODE VII. TRANSLATED.

The snow, dissolv'd, no more is seen,

The fields and woods, behold! are green;

The changing year renews the plain,

The rivers know their banks again;

The sprightly nymph and naked grace

The mazy dance together trace;

The changing year's successive plan

Proclaims mortality to man;

Rough winter's blasts to spring give way,

Spring yields to summer's sov'reign ray;

Then summer sinks in autumn's reign,

And winter chills the world again;

Her losses soon the moon supplies,

But wretched man, when once he lies

Where Priam and his sons are laid,

Is nought but ashes and a shade.

Who knows if Jove, who counts our score,

Will toss us in a morning more?

What with your friend you nobly share,

At least you rescue from your heir.

Not you, Torquatus, boast of Rome,

When Minos once has fixed your doom,

Or eloquence, or splendid birth,

Or virtue, shall restore to earth.

Hippolytus, unjustly slain,

Diana calls to life in vain;

Nor can the might of Theseus rend

The chains of hell that hold his friend.

Nov. 1784.

The following translations, parodies, and burlesque verses, most of them

extempore, are taken from Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson, published by Mrs.

Piozzi.

ANACREON, ODE IX.

Lovely courier of the sky,

Whence and whither dost thou fly?

Scatt'ring, as thy pinions play,

Liquid fragrance all the way:

Is it business? is it love?

Tell me, tell me, gentle dove.

Soft Anacreon's vows I bear,

Vows to Myrtale the fair;

Grac'd with all that charms the heart,

Blushing nature, smiling art.

Venus, courted by an ode,

On the bard her dove bestow'd:

Vested with a master's right,

Now Anacreon rules my flight;

His the letters that you see,

Weighty charge, consign'd to me:

Think not yet my service hard,

Joyless task without reward;

Smiling at my master's gates,

Freedom my return awaits;

But the lib'ral grant in vain

Tempts me to be wild again.

Can a prudent dove decline

Blissful bondage such as mine?

Over hills and fields to roam,

Fortune's guest without a home;

Under leaves to hide one's head

Slightly shelter'd, coarsely fed:

Now my better lot bestows

Sweet repast and soft repose;

Now the gen'rous bowl I sip,

As it leaves Anacreon's lip:

Void of care, and free from dread,

From his fingers snatch his bread;

Then, with luscious plenty gay,

Round his chamber dance and play;

Or from wine, as courage springs,

O'er his face extend my wings;

And when feast and frolick tire,

Drop asleep upon his lyre.

This is all, be quick and go,

More than all thou canst not know;

Let me now my pinions ply,

I have chatter'd like a pie.

LINES

WRITTEN IN RIDICULE OF CERTAIN POEMS

PUBLISHED IN 1777.

Wheresor'er I turn my view,

All is strange, yet nothing new;

Endless labour all along,

Endless labour to be wrong;

Phrase that time hath flung away,

Uncouth words in disarray,

Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet,

Ode, and elegy, and sonnet.

PARODY OF A TRANSLATION.

FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES.

Err shall they not, who resolute explore

Times gloomy backward with judicious eyes;

And, scanning right the practices of yore,

Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise.

They to the dome, where smoke, with curling play,

Announc'd the dinner to the regions round,

Summon'd the singer blithe, and harper gay,

And aided wine with dulcet-streaming sound.

The better use of notes, or sweet or shrill,

By quiv'ring string or modulated wind;

Trumpet or lyre--to their harsh bosoms chill

Admission ne'er had sought, or could not find.

Oh! send them to the sullen mansions dun,

Her baleful eyes where sorrow rolls around;

Where gloom-enamour'd mischief loves to dwell,

And murder, all blood-bolter'd, schemes the wound.

When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish,

And purple nectar glads the festive hour;

The guest, without a want, without a wish,

Can yield no room to musick's soothing pow'r.

TRANSLATION

FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES, V. 196[a]

The rites deriv'd from ancient days,

With thoughtless reverence we praise;

The rites that taught us to combine

The joys of musick and of wine,

And bade the feast, and song, and bowl

O'erfill the saturated soul:

But ne'er the flute or lyre applied

To cheer despair, or soften pride;

Nor call'd them to the gloomy cells

Where want repines and vengeance swells;

Where hate sits musing to betray,

And murder meditates his prey.

To dens of guilt and shades of care,

Ye sons of melody repair,

Nor deign the festive dome to cloy

With superfluities of joy.

Ah! little needs the minstrel's power

To speed the light convivial hour.

The board, with varied plenty crown'd,

May spare the luxuries of sound[b].

[a] The classical reader will, doubtless, be pleased to see the

exquisite original in immediate comparison with this translation;

we, therefore, subjoin it, and also Dr. J. Warton's imitation of

the same passage.

[Greek:]

skaious de legon kouden ti sophous

tous prosthe brotous, ouk an amartois

oitines umnous epi men thaliais,

epi d'eilapinais kai para deipnois

euronto biou terpnas akoas

stugious de broton oudeis pulas

eureto mousae kai poluchordois

odais pauein, exon thanatoi

deinai te tuchai sphallonsi domous

kaitoi tade men kerdos akeisthai

molpaisi brotous ina d'endeipnoi

daites ti mataen teinousi boan

to paron gar echei terpsin aph auton

daitos plaeroma brotaoisin

MEDEA, 193--206. ED. PORS

Queen of every moving measure,

Sweetest source of purest pleasure,

Music! why thy pow'rs employ

Only for the sons of joy;

Only for the smiling guests,

At natal or at nuptial feasts?

Rather thy lenient numbers pour

On those, whom secret griefs devour,

Bid be still the throbbing hearts

Of those whom death or absence parts,

And, with some softly whisper'd air,

Sooth the brow of dumb despair.

[b] This translation was written by Johnson for his friend Dr. Burney,

and was inserted, as the work of "a learned friend," in that

gentleman's History of Musick, vol. ii. p. 340. It has always been

ascribed to Johnson; but, to put the matter beyond a doubt, Mr.

Malone ascertained the fact by applying to Dr. Burney himself. J. B.

TRANSLATION

OF THE FIRST TWO STANZAS OF THE SONG "RIO

VERDE, RIO VERDE," PRINTED IN BISHOP PERCY'S

RELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY.

AN IMPROMPTU.

Glassy water, glassy water,

Down whose current, clear and strong,

Chiefs confused in mutual slaughter,

Moor and Christian roll along.

IMITATION OF THE STYLE OF ****.

Hermit hoar, in solemn cell

Wearing out life's ev'ning grey,

Strike thy bosom, sage, and tell

What is bliss, and which the way.

Thus I spoke, and speaking sigh'd,

Scarce repress'd the starting tear,

When the hoary sage reply'd,

Come, my lad, and drink some beer.

BURLESQUE

OF THE FOLLOWING LINES OF LOPEZ DE VEGA.

AN IMPROMPTU.

Se a quien los leones vence

Vence una muger hermosa,

O el de flaco avergonze,

O ella di ser mas furiosa.

If the man who turnips cries,

Cry not when his father dies,

'Tis a proof, that he had rather

Have a turnip than his father.

TRANSLATION

OF THE FOLLOWING LINES AT THE END OF BARETTI'S

EASY PHRASEOLOGY.

AN IMPROMPTU.

Viva, viva la padrona!

Tutta bella, e tutta buona,

La padrona è un' angiolella

Tutta buona e tutta bella;

Tutta bella e tutta buona;

Viva! viva la padrona!

Long may live my lovely Hetty!

Always young, and always pretty;

Always pretty, always young,

Live, my lovely Hetty, long!

Always young, and always pretty,

Long may live my lovely Hetty!

IMPROVISO TRANSLATION

OF THE FOLLOWING DISTICH ON THE DUKE OF MODENA'S

RUNNING AWAY FROM THE COMET IN 1742 OR 1743.

Se al venir vostro i principi sen' vanno

Deh venga ogni di--durate un' anno.

If at your coming princes disappear,

Comets! come every day--and stay a year.

IMPROVISO TRANSLATION

OF THE FOLLOWING LINES OF M. BENSERADE A SON LIT.

Theatre des ris, et des pleurs,

Lit! où je nais, et où je meurs,

Tu nous fais voir comment voisins

Sont nos plaisirs, et nos chagrins.

In bed we laugh, in bed we cry,

And, born in bed, in bed we die;

The near approach a bed may show

Of human bliss to human woe.

EPITAPH FOR MR. HOGARTH.

The hand of him here torpid lies,

That drew th' essential form of grace;

Here clos'd in death th' attentive eyes,

That saw the manners in the face.

TRANSLATION

OF THE FOLLOWING LINES, WRITTEN UNDER A PRINT

REPRESENTING PERSONS SKATING.

Sur un mince cristal l'hiver conduit leurs pas,

Le précipice est sous la glace:

Telle est de nos plaisirs la légère surface:

Glissez, mortels; n'appuyez pas.

O'er ice the rapid skater flies,

With sport above, and death below;

Where mischief lurks in gay disguise,

Thus lightly touch and quickly go.

IMPROMPTU TRANSLATION OF THE SAME.

O'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound,

With nimble glide the skaters play;

O'er treach'rous pleasure's flow'ry ground

Thus lightly skim, and haste away.

TO MRS. THRALE,

ON HER COMPLETING HER THIRTY-FIFTH YEAR.

AN IMPROMPTU.

Oft in danger, yet alive,

We are come to thirty-five;

Long may better years arrive,

Better years than thirty-five!

Could philosophers contrive

Life to stop at thirty-five,

Time his hours should never drive

O'er the bounds of thirty-five.

High to soar, and deep to dive,

Nature gives at thirty-five.

Ladies, stock and tend your hive,

Trifle not at thirty-five;

For, howe'er we boast and strive.

Life declines from thirty-five.

He that ever hopes to thrive

Must begin by thirty-five;

And all, who wisely wish to wive,

Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.

IMPROMPTU TRANSLATION

OF AN AIR IN THE CLEMENZA DI TITO OF

METASTASIO,

BEGINNING "DEH SE PIACERMI VUOI."

Would you hope to gain my heart,

Bid your teasing doubts depart;

He, who blindly trusts, will find

Faith from ev'ry gen'rous mind:

He, who still expects deceit,

Only teaches how to cheat.

TRANSLATION

OF A SPEECH OF AQUILEIO, IN THE ADRIANO OF METASTASIO,

BEGINNING "TU CHE IN CORTE INVECCHIASTI[a]."

Grown old in courts, thou surely art not one

Who keeps the rigid rules of ancient honour;

Well skill'd to sooth a foe with looks of kindness,

To sink the fatal precipice before him,

And then lament his fall, with seeming friendship:

Open to all, true only to thyself,

Thou know'st those arts, which blast with envious praise,

Which aggravate a fault, with feign'd excuses,

And drive discountenanc'd virtue from the throne;

That leave the blame of rigour to the prince,

And of his ev'ry gift usurp the merit;

That hide, in seeming zeal, a wicked purpose,

And only build upon another's ruin.

[a] The character of Cali, in Irene, is a masterly sketch of the old and

practised dissembler of a despotic court,--ED.

BURLESQUE

OF THE MODERN VERSIFICATIONS OF ANCIENT

LEGENDARY TALES. AN IMPROMPTU.

The tender infant, meek and mild,

Fell down upon the stone:

The nurse took up the squealing child,

But still the child squeal'd on.

FRIENDSHIP;

AN ODE[a].

Friendship, peculiar boon of heaven,

The noble mind's delight and pride,

To men and angels only given,

To all the lower world deny'd.

While love, unknown among the blest,

Parent of thousand wild desires[b],

The savage and the human breast

Torments alike with raging fires[c];

With bright, but oft destructive, gleam,

Alike, o'er all his lightnings fly;

Thy lambent glories only beam

Around the fav'rites of the sky.

Thy gentle flows of guiltless joys

On fools and villains ne'er descend;

In vain for thee the tyrant sighs[d],

And hugs a flatt'rer for a friend.

Directress of the brave and just[e],

O! guide us through life's darksome way!

And let the tortures of mistrust

On selfish bosoms only prey.

Nor shall thine ardours cease to glow[f],

When souls to blissful climes remove:

What rais'd our virtue here below,

Shall aid our happiness above.

[a] This ode originally appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1743.

See Boswell's Life of Johnson, under that year. It was afterwards

printed in Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies, in 1766, with several

variations, which are pointed out, below.--J.B.

[b] Parent of rage and hot desires.--Mrs. W.

[c] Inflames alike with equal fires.

[d] In vain for thee the _monarch_ sighs.

[e] This stanza is omitted in Mrs. William's Miscellanies, and instead

of it, we have the following, which may be suspected, from internal

evidence, not to have been Johnson's:

When virtues, kindred virtues meet,

And sister-souls together join,

Thy pleasures permanent, as great,

Are all transporting--all divine.

[f] O! shall thy flames then cease to glow.

ON SEEING A BUST OF MRS. MONTAGUE.

Had this fair figure, which this frame displays,

Adorn'd in Roman time the brightest days,

In every dome, in every sacred place,

Her statue would have breath'd an added grace,

And on its basis would have been enroll'd,

"This is Minerva, cast in virtue's mould."

IMPROVISO

ON A YOUNG HEIR'S COMING OF AGE

Long expected one-and-twenty,

Ling'ring year, at length is flown;

Pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty,

Great----, are now your own.

Loosen'd from the minor's tether,

Free to mortgage or to sell;

Wild as wind, and light as feather,

Bid the sons of thrift farewell.

Call the Betseys, Kates, and Jennies,

All the names that banish care;

Lavish of your grandsire's guineas,

Show the spirit of an heir.

All that prey on vice or folly

Joy to see their quarry fly:

There the gamester light and jolly,

There the lender grave and sly.

Wealth, my lad, was made to wander,

Let it wander as it will;

Call the jockey, call the pander,

Bid them come, and take their fill.

When the bonny blade carouses,

Pockets full, and spirits high--

What are acres? what are houses?

Only dirt, or wet or dry.

Should the guardian friend, or mother

Tell the woes of wilful waste;

Scorn their counsel, scorn their pother,

You can hang or drown at last.

EPITAPHS.

AT LICHFIELD.

H. S. E.

MICHAEL JOHNSON,

VIR impavidus, constans, animosus, periculorum immemor,

laborum patientissimus; fiducia christiana fortis, fervidusque;

paterfamilias apprime strenuus; bibliopola admodum

peritus; mente et libris et negotiis exculta; animo ita

firmo, ut, rebus adversis diu conflictatus, nec sibi nec suis

defuerit; lingua sic temperata, ut ei nihil quod aures vel

pias vel castas laesisset, aut dolor vel voluptas unquam

expresserit.

Natus Cubleiae, in agro Derbiensi, anno MDCLVI; obijt

MDCCXXXI.

Apposita est SARA, conjux,

Antiqua FORDORUM gente oriunda; quam domi sedulam,

foris paucis notam; nulli molestam, mentis acumine

et judicii subtilitate praecellentem; aliis multum, sibi parum

indulgentem: aeternitati semper attentam, omne fere

virtutis nomen commendavit.

Nata Nortoniae Regis, in agro Varvicensi, anno

MDCLXIX; obijt MDCCLIX.

Cum NATHANAELE, illorum filio, qui natus MDCCXII.

cum vires et animi et corporis multa pollicerentur, anno

MDCCXXXVII. vitam brevem pia morte finivit.

IN BROMLEY CHURCH.

HIC conduntur reliquae

ELIZABETHAE

Antiqua JARVISIORUM gente

Peatlingae, apud Leicestrenses, ortae;

Formosae, cultae, ingeniosae, piae;

Uxoris, primis nuptiis, HENRICI PORTER,

secundis, SAMUELIS JOHNSON,

Qui multum amatam, diuque defletam,

Hoc lapide contexit.

Obijt Londini, mense Mart.

A. D. MDCCLIII.

IN WATFORD CHURCH.

In the vault below are deposited the remains of

JANE BELL[a], wife of JOHN BELL, esq.

who, in the fifty-third year of her age,

surrounded with many worldly blessings,

heard, with fortitude and composure truly great,

the horrible malady, which had, for some time, begun to

afflict her,

pronounced incurable;

and for more than three years,

endured with patience, and concealed with decency,

the daily tortures of gradual death;

continued to divide the hours not allotted to devotion,

between the cares of her family, and the converse of

her friends;

rewarded the attendance of duty,

and acknowledged the offices of affection;

and, while she endeavoured to alleviate by cheerfulness

her husband's sufferings and sorrows,

increased them by her gratitude for his care,

and her solicitude for his quiet.

To the testimony of these virtues,

more highly honoured, as more familiarly known,

this monument is erected by

JOHN BELL.

[a] She died in October, 1771.

IN STRETHAM CHURCH.

Juxta sepulta est HESTERA MARIA,

Thomae Cotton de Combermere, baronetti Cestriensis,

filia,

Johannis Salusbury, armigeri Flintiensis, uxor,

Forma felix, felix ingenio;

Omnibus jucunda, suorum amantissima.

Linguis artibusque ita exeulta,

Ut loquenti nunquam deessent

Sermonis nitor, sententiarum flosculi,

Sapientiae gravitas, leporum gratia:

Modum servandi adeo perita,

Ut domestica inter negotia literis oblectaretur;

Literarum inter delicias, rem familiarem sedulo curaret.

Multis illi multos annos precantibus

diri carcinomatis venene contabuit,

nexibusque vitae paulatim resolutis,

e terris, meliora sperans, emigravit.

Nata 1707. Nupta 1739. Obijt 1773.

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

OLIVARII GOLDSMITH,

Poetae, Physici, Historici,

Qui nullum fere scribendi genus

Non tetigit,

Nullum quod tetigit non ornavit:

Sive risus essent movendi,

Sive lacrimae,

Affectuum potens, at lenis, dominator:

Ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis,

Oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus:

Hoc monumento memoriam coluit

Sodalium amor,

Amicorum fides,

Lectorum veneratio.

Elfiniae, in Hibernia, natus MDCCXXIX.

Eblauae literis institutus:

Londini obijt MDCCLXXIV [a].

[a] This is the epitaph, that drew from Gibbon, sir J. Reynolds,

Sheridan, Joseph Warton, &c. the celebrated _Round Robin_, composed by

Burke, intreating Johnson to write an English epitaph on an English

author. His reply was, in the genuine spirit of an old scholar, "he

would never consent to disgrace the walls of Westminster abbey with an

English inscription." One of his arguments, in favour of a common

learned language, was ludicrously cogent: "Consider, sir, how you should

feel, were you to find, at Rotterdam, an epitaph, upon Erasmus, _in

Dutch_!" Boswell, iii. He would, however, undoubtedly have written a

better epitaph in English, than in Latin. His compositions in that

language are not of first rate excellence, either in prose or verse. The

epitaph, in Stretham church, on Mr. Thrale, abounds with inaccuracies;

and those who are fond of detecting little blunders in great men, may be

amply gratified in the perusal of a review of Thrale's epitaph in the

Classical Journal, xii. 6. His Greek epitaph on Goldsmith, is not

remarkable in itself, but we will subjoin it, in this place, as a

literary curiosity.

[Greek:]

Thon taphon eisoraas thon OLIBARIOIO, koniaen

Aphrosi mae semnaen, xeine, podessi patei.

Oisi memaele phusis, metron charis, erga palaion,

Klaiete poiaetaen, istorikon, phusikon.

--ED.

IN STRETHAM CHURCH.

Hie conditur quod reliquum est

HENRICI THRALE,

Qui res seu civiles, seu domesticas, ita egit,

Ut vitam illi longiorem multi optarent;

Ita sacras,

Ut quam brevem esset habiturus praescire videretur;

Simplex, apertus, sibique semper similis,

Nihil ostentavit aut arte fictum, aut cura

elaboratum.

In senatu, regi patriaeque

Fideliter studuit,

Vulgi obstrepentis contemptor animosus;

Domi, inter mille mercaturae negotia,

Literarum elegantiam minime neglexit.

Amicis, quocunque modo laborantibus,

Consiliis, auctoritate, muneribus, adfuit.

Inter familiares, comites, convivas, hospites,

Tam facili fuit morum suavitate

Ut omnium animos ad se alliceret;

Tam felici sermonis libertate,

Ut nulli adulatus, omnibus placeret.

Natus 1724. Obijt 1781.

Consortes tumuli habet Rodolphum, patrem, strenuum

fortemque virum, et Henricum, filium unicum, quem

spei parentum mors inopiua decennem proripuit.

Ita

Domus felix et opulenta quam erexit

Avus, auxitque pater, cum nepote decidit.

Abi, Viator,

Et, vicibus rerum humanarum perspectis,

Aeternitatem cogita!

POEMATA

MESSIA [a].

Ex alieno ingenio poeta, ex suo tantum versificator.

SCALIG. Poet.

Tollite concentum, Solymaeae tollite nymphae,

Nil mortale loquor; coelum mihi carminis alta

Materies; poscunt gravius coelestia plectrum.

Muscosi fontes, sylvestria tecta, valete,

Aonidesque deae, et mendacis somnia Pindi:

Tu, mihi, qui flamma movisti pectora sancti

Siderea Isaiae, dignos accende furores!

Immatura calens rapitur per secula vates

Sic orsus--Qualis rerum mihi nascitur ordo!

Virgo! virgo parit! Felix radicibus arbor

Jessaeis surgit, mulcentesque sethera flores

Coelestes lambunt animae, ramisque columba,

Nuncia sacra Dei, plaudentibus insidet alis.

Nectareos rores, alimentaque mitia coelum

Praebeat, et tacite foecundos irriget imbres.

Hue, foedat quos lepra, urit quos febris, adeste,

Dia salutares spirant medicamina rami;

Hic requies fessis: non sacra sacvit in umbra

Vis boreae gelida, aut rapidi violeutia solis.

Irrita vanescent priscae vestigia fraudis,

Justitiaeque manus, pretio intemerata, bilancem

Attollet reducis; bellis praetendet olivas

Compositis pax alma suas, terrasque revisens

Sedatas niveo virtus lucebit amictu.--

Volvantur celeres anni! lux purpuret ortum

Expectata diu! naturae claustra refringens,

Nascere, magne puer! tibi primas, ecce, corollas

Deproperat tellus, fundit tibi munera, quicquid

Carpit Arabs, hortis quicquid frondescit Eois;

Altius, en! Lebanon gaudentia culmina tollit;

En! summo exultant nutantes vertice sylvae:

Mittit aromaticas vallis Saronica nubes,

Et juga Carmeli recreant fragrantia coelum.

Deserti laeta mollescunt aspera voce:

Auditur Deus! ecce Deus! reboantia circum

Saxa sonant, Deus! ecce Deus! deflectitur aether,

Demissumque Deum tellus capit; ardua cedrus,

Gloria sylvarum, dominum inclinata salutet:

Surgite convalles, tumidi subsidite montes!

Sternite saxa viam, rapidi discedite fluctus;

En! quem turba diu cecinerunt enthea, vates,

En! salvator adest; vultus agnoscite, caeci,

Divinos, surdos sacra vox permulceat aures.

Ille cutim spissam visus hebetare vetabit,

Reclusisque oculis infundet amabile lumen;

Obstrictasque diu linguas in carmina solvet.

Ille vias vocis pandet, flexusque liquentis

Harmoniae purgata novos mirabitur auris.

Accrescunt teneris tactu nova robora nervis:

Consuetus fulcro innixus reptare bacilli

Nunc saltu capreas, nunc cursu provocat euros.

Non planctus, non moesta sonant suspiria; pectus

Singultans mulcet, lachrymantes tergit ocellos.

Vincla coercebunt luctantem adamantina mortem,

Aeternoque orci dominator vuluere languens

Invalidi raptos sceptri plorabit honores.

Ut, qua dulce strepunt scatebrse, qua lasta virescunt

Pascua, qua blandum spirat purissimus aer,

Pastor agit pecudes, teneros modo suscipit agnos,

Et gremio fotis selectas porrigit herbas,

Amissas modo quserit oves, revocatque vagantes;

Fidus adest custos, seu nox furat humida nimbis,

Sive dies medius morieutia torreat arva.

Postera sic pastor divinus secla beabit,

Et curas felix patrias testabitur orbis.

Non ultra infestis concurrent agmina signis,

Hostiles oculis flammas jaculantia torvis;

Non litui accendent bellum, non campus ahenis

Triste coruscabit radiis; dabit hasta recusa

Vomerem, et in falcem rigidus curvabitur ensis.

Atria, pacis opus, surgent, finemque caduci

Natus ad optatum perducet coepta parentis.

Qui duxit sulcos, illi teret area messem,

Et serae texent vites umbracula proli.

Attoniti dumeta vident inculta coloni

Suave rubere rosis, sitientesque inter arenas

Garrula mirantur salientis murmura rivi.

Per saxa, ignivomi nuper spelaea draconis,

Canna viret, juncique tremit variabilis umbra.

Horruit implexo qua vallis sente, figurae

Surgit amans abies teretis, buxique sequaces

Artificis frondent dextrae; palmisque rubeta

Aspera, odoratae cedunt mala gramiua myrto.

Per valles sociata lupo lasciviet agna,

Cumque leone petet tutus praesepe juvencus.

Florea mansuetae petulantes vincula tigri

Per ludum pueri injicient, et fessa colubri

Membra viatoris recreabunt frigore linguae.

Serpentes teneris nil jam lethale micantes

Tractabit palmis infans, motusque trisulcae

Bidebit linguae innocuos, squamasque virentes

Aureaque admirans rutilantis fulgura cristae.

Indue reginam, turritae frontis honores

Tolle Salema sacros, quam circum gloria pennas

Explicat, incinctam radiatae luce tiaras!

En! formosa tibi spatiosa per atria proles

Ordinibus surgit densis, vitamque requirit

Impatiens, lenteque fluentes increpat annos.

Ecce peregrinis fervent tua limina turbis;

Barbarus, en! clarum divino lumine templum

Ingreditur, cultuque tuo mansuescere gaudet.

Cinnameos cumulos, Nabathaei munera veris,

Ecce! cremant genibus tritae regalibus arae.

Solis Ophyraeis crudum tibi montibus aurum

Maturant radii; tibi balsama sudat Idume.

Aetheris en! portas sacro fulgore micantes

Coelicolae pandunt, torrentis aurea lucis

Flumina prorumpunt; non posthac sole rubescet

India nascenti, placidaeve argentea noctis

Luna vices revehet; radios pater ipse diei

Proferet archetypos; coelestis gaudia lucis

Ipso fonte bibes, quae circumfusa beatam

Regiam inundabit, nullis cessura tenebris.

Littora deficiens arentia deseret aequor;

Sidera fumabunt, diro labefaeta tremore

Saxa cadent, solidique liquescent robora montis:

Tu secura tamen confusa elementa videbis,

Laetaque Messia semper dominabere rege,

Pollicitis firmata Dei, stabilita ruinis.

[a] This translation has been severely criticised by Dr. Warton, in his

edition of Pope, vol. i. p. 105, 8vo. 1797. It certainly contains

some expressions that are not classical. Let it be remembered,

however, that it was a college exercise, performed with great

rapidity, and was, at first, praised, beyond all suspicion of

defect--This translation was first published in a Miscellany of

Poems by several hands. Published by J. Husbands, A.M. fellow of

Pembroke college, Oxon. 8vo. Oxford, 1731. Of Johnson's production,

Mr. Husbands says, in his preface, "The translation of Mr. Pope's

Messiah was delivered to his tutor as a college exercise, by Mr.

Johnson, a commoner of Pembroke college in Oxford, and 'tis hoped

will be no discredit to the excellent original." Mr. Husbands died

in the following year.

[Jan. 20, 21, 1773.]

Vitae qui varias vices

Rerum perpetuus temperat arbiter,

Laeto cedere lumini

Noctis tristitiam qui gelidae jubet,

Acri sanguine turgidos,

Obductosque oculos nubibus humidis

Sanari voluit meos;

Et me, cuncta beaus cui nocuit dies,

Luci reddidit et mihi.

Qua te laude, Deus, qua prece prosequar?

Sacri discipulis libri

Te semper studiis utilibus colam:

Grates, summe pater, tuis

Recte qui fruitur muneribus, dedit.

[Dec. 25, 1779.]

Nunc dies Christo memoranda nato

Fulsit, in pectus mihi fonte purum

Gaudium sacro fluat, et benigni

Gratia coeli!

Christe, da tutam trepido quietem,

Christe, spem praesta stabilem timenti;

Da fidem certam, precibusque fidis

Annue, Christe.

[In lecto, die passionis, Apr. 13, 1781.]

Summe Deus, qui semper amas quodcunque creasti;

Judice quo, scelerum est poenituisse salus:

Da veteres noxas animo sic flere novato,

Per Christum ut veniam sit reperire mihi.

[In lecto, Dec. 25, 1782.]

Spe non inani confugis,

Peccator, ad latus meum;

Quod poscis, hand unquam tibi

Negabitur solatium.

(Nocte, inter 16 et 17 Junii, 1783[a])

Summe pater, quodcunque tuum[b] de corpore Numen[c]

Hoc statuat[d], precibus[e] Christus adesse velit:

Ingenio parcas, nee sit mihi culpa rogasse[f],

Qua solum potero parte, placere[g] tibi.

[a] The night, above referred to by Dr. Johnson, was that, in which a

paralytic stroke had deprived him of his voice; and, in the anxiety

he felt, lest it should, likewise, have impaired his understanding,

he composed the above lines, and said, concerning them, that he

knew, at the time, that they were not good, but then, that he deemed

his discerning this to be sufficient for quieting the anxiety before

mentioned, as it showed him, that his power of judging was not

diminished.

[b] Al. tuae.

[c] Al. leges.

[d] Al. statuant.

[e] Al. votis.

[f] Al. precari.

[g] Al. litare.

[Cal. Jan. in lecto, ante lucem, 1784.]

Summe dator vitae, naturae aeterne magister,

Causarum series quo moderante fluit,

Respice quem subiget senium, morbique seniles,

Quem terret vitae meta propinqua suae,

Respice inutiliter lapsi quem poenitet aevi;

Recte ut poeniteat, respice, magne parens.

Pater benigne, summa semper lenitas,

Crimine gravatam plurimo mentem leva:

Concede veram poenitentiam, precor,

Concede agendam legibus vitam tuis.

Sacri vagantes luminis gressus face

Rege, et tuere; quae nocent pellens procul:

Veniam petenti, summe, da veniam, pater;

Veniaeque sancta pacis adde gaudia:

Sceleris ut expers, omni et vacuus metu,

Te, mente pura, mente tranquilla colam,

Mihi dona morte haec impetret Christus sua.

[Jan. 18, 1784.]

Summe pater, puro collustra lumine pectus,

Anxietas noceat ne tenebrosa mihi.

In me sparsa manu virtutum semina larga

Sic ale, proveniat messis ut ampla boni.

Noctes atque dies animo spes laeta recurset;

Certa mihi sancto flagret amore fides;

Certa vetat dubitare fides, spes laeta timere;

Velle vetet cuiquam non bene sanctus amor.

Da, ne sint permissa, pater, mihi praemia frustra,

Et colere, et leges semper amare tuas.

Haec mihi, quo gentes, quo secula, Christe, piasti,

Sanguine, precanti promereare tuo!

[Feb. 27, 1784.]

Mens mea, quid quereris? veniet tibi mollior hora,

In summo ut videas numine laeta patrem;

Divinam insontes iram placavit Iesus;

Nunc est pro poena poenituisse reis.

CHRISTIANUS PERFECTUS.

Qui cupit in sanctos, Christo cogente, referri,

Abstergat mundi labem, nec gaudia carnis

Captans, nec fastu tumidus, semperque futuro

Instet, et evellens terroris spicula corde,

Suspiciat tandem clementem in numine patrem.

Huic quoque, nec genti nec sectae noxius ulli,

Sit sacer orbis amor, miseris qui semper adesse

Gestiat, et, nullo pietatis limite clausus,

Cunctorum ignoscat vitiis, pictate fruatur.

Ardeat huic toto sacer ignis pectore, possit

Ut vitam, poscat si res, impendere vero.

Cura placere Deo sit prima, sit ultima; sanctae

Irruptum vitae cupiat servare tenorem;

Et sibi, delirans quanquam et peccator in horas

Displiceat, servet tutum sub pectore rectum:

Nec natet, et nunc has partes, nunc eligat illas,

Nec dubitet quem dicat herum, sed, totus in uno,

Se fidum addicat Christo, mortalia temnens.

Sed timeat semper, caveatque ante omnia, turbae

Ne stolidae similis, leges sibi segreget audax

Quas servare velit, leges quas lentus omittat,

Plenum opus effugiens, aptans juga mollia collo,

Sponte sua demens; nihilum decedere summae

Vult Deus, at qui cuncta dedit tibi, cuncta reposcit.

Denique perpetuo contendit in ardua nisu,

Auxilioque Dei fretus, jam mente serena

Pergit, et imperiis sentit se dulcibus actum.

Paulatim mores, animum, vitamque refingit,

Effigiemque Dei, quantum servare licebit,

Induit, et, terris major, coelestia spirat.

Aeterne rerum conditor,

Salutis aeternae dator;

Felicitatis sedibus

Qui nec scelestos exigis,

Quoscumque scelerum poenitet;

Da, Christe, poenitentiam,

Veniamque, Christe, da mihi;

Aegrum trahenti spiritum

Succurre praesens corpori;

Multo gravatam crimine

Mentem benignus alleva.

Luce collustret mihi pectus alma,

Pellat et tristes animi tenebras,

Nec sinat semper tremere ac dolere,

Gratia Christi.

Me pater tandem reducem benigno

Summus amplexu foveat, beato

Me gregi sanctus socium beatum

Spiritus addat.

JEJUNIUM ET CIBUS.

Serviat ut menti corpus jejunia serva,

Ut mens utatur corpore, sume cibos.

AD URBANUM[a], 1738.

Urbane, nullis fesse laboribus,

Urbane, nullis victe calumniis,

Cui fronte sertum in erudita

Perpetuo viret, et virebit;

Quid moliatur gens imitantium,

Quid et minetur, solicitus parum,

Vacare solis perge musis,

Juxta animo, studiisque foelix.

Linguae procacis plumbea spicula,

Fidens, superbo frange silentio;

Victrix per obstantes catervas

Sedulitas animosa tendet.

Intende nervos fortis, inanibus

Risurus olim nisibus emuli;

Intende jam nervos, habebis

Participes opera Camoenas.

Non ulla musis pagina gratior,

Quam quae severis ludicra jungere

Novit, fatigatamque nugis

Utilibus recreare mentem.

Texente nymphis serta Lycoride,

Rosae ruborem sic viola adjuvat

Immista, sic Iris refulget

Aethereis variata fucis.

[a] See Gent. Mag. vol. viii. p. 156; and see also the Introduction to

vol. liv.

IN RIVUM A MOLA STOANA LICHFELDIAE DIFFLUENTEM.

Errat adhuc vitreus per prata virentia rivus,

Quo toties lavi membra tenella puer;

Hic delusa rudi frustrabar brachia motu,

Dum docuit, blanda voce, natare pater.

Fecerunt rami latebras, tenebrisque diurnis

Pendula secretas abdidit arbor aquas.

Nunc veteres duris periere securibus umbrae,

Longinquisque oculis nuda lavacra patent.

Lympha, tamen, cursus agit indefessa perennis,

Tectaque qua fluxit, nunc et aperta fluit.

Quid ferat externi velox, quid deterat aetas,

Tu quoque securus res age, Nise, tuas.

[Greek: GNOTHI SEAUTON][a]

[Post Lexicon Anglicanum auctum et emendatum.]

Lexicon ad finem longo luctamine tandem

Scaliger ut duxit, tenuis pertaesus opellae,

Vile indignatus studium, nugasque molestas

Ingemit exosus, scribendaque lexica mandat

Damnatis, poenam pro poenis omnibus unam.

Ille quidem recte, sublimis, doctus et acer,

Quem decuit majora sequi, majoribus aptum,

Qui veterum modo facta ducum, modo carmina vatum,

Gesserat, et quicquid virtus, sapientia quicquid

Dixerat, imperiique vices, coelique meatus,

Ingentemque animo seclorum volveret orbem.

Fallimur exemplis; temere sibi turba scholarum

Ima tuas credit permitti, Scaliger, iras.

Quisque suum norit modulum; tibi, prime virorum,

Ut studiis sperem, aut ausim par esse querelis,

Non mihi sorte datum; lenti seu sanguinis obsint

Frigora, seu nimium longo jacuisse veterno,

Sive mihi mentem dederit natura minorem.

Te sterili functum cura, vocumque salebris

Tuto eluctatum, spatiis sapientia dia

Excipit aethereis, ars omnis plaudit amico,

Linguarumque omni terra discordia concors

Multiplici reducem circumsonat ore magistrum.

Me, pensi immunis cum jam mihi reddor, inertis

Desidiae sors dura manet, graviorque labore

Tristis et atra quies, et tardae taedia vitae.

Nascuntur curis curae, vexatque dolorum

Importuna cohors, vacuae mala somnia mentis.

Nunc clamosa juvant nocturnae gaudia mensae,

Nunc loca sola placent; frustra te, somne, recumbens,

Alme voco, impatiens noctis, metuensque diei.

Omnia percurro trepidus, circum omnia lustro,

Si qua usquam pateat melioris semita vitae,

Nec quid again invenio; meditatus grandia, cogor

Notior ipse mihi fieri, incultumque fateri

Pectus, et ingenium vano se robore jactans.

Ingenium, nisi materiem doctrina ministrat,

Cessat inops rerum, ut torpet, si marmoris absit

Copia, Phidiaci foecunda potentia coeli.

Quicquid agam, quocunque ferar, conatibus obstat

Res angusta domi, et macrae penuria mentis.

Non rationis opes animus, nunc parta recensens

Conspicit aggestas, et se miratur in illis,

Nec sibi de gaza praesens quod postulat usus

Summus adesse jubet celsa dominator ab arce;

Non, operum serie seriem dum computat aevi,

Praeteritis fruitur, laetos aut sumit honores

Ipse sui judex, actae bene munera vitae;

Sed sua regna videns, loca nocte silentia late

Horret, ubi vanae species, umbraeque fugaces,

Et rerum volitant rarae per inane figurae.

Quid faciam? tenebrisne pigram damnare senectam

Restat? an accingar studiis gravioribus audax?

Aut, hoc si nimium est, tandem nova lexica poscam?

[a] For a translation of this poem, see Murphy's Essay on the Life and

Genius of Dr. Johnson, prefixed to the present volume.

AD THOMAM LAURENCE,

MEDICUM DOCTISSIMUM,

Cum filium peregre agentem desiderio nimis tristi prosequeretur.

Fateris ergo, quod populus solet

Crepare vecors, nil sapientiam

Prodesse vitae, literasque

In dubiis dare terga rebus.

Tu, queis laborat sors hominum, mala

Nec vincis acer, nee pateris pius;

Te mille succorum potentem

Destituit medicina mentis.

Per caeca noctis taedia turbidae,

Pigrae per horas lucis inutiles,

Torpesque, languescisque, curis

Solicitus nimis heu! paternis.

Tandem dolori plus satis est datum,

Exsurge fortis, nunc animis opus,

Te, docta, Laurenti, vetustas,

Te medici revocant labores.

Permitte summo quicquid habes patri,

Permitte fidens; et muliebribus,

Amice, majorem querelis

Redde tuis, tibi redde, mentem.

IN THEATRO, MARCH 8, 1771.

Tertii verso quater orbe lustri,

Quid theatrales tibi, Crispe, pompae?

Quam decet canos male litteratos

Sera voluptas!

Tene mulceri fidibus canoris?

Tene cantorum modulis stupere?

Tene per pictas, oculo elegante,

Currere formas?

Inter aequales, sine felle liber,

Codices, veri studiosus, inter

Rectius vives. Sua quisque carpat

Gaudia gratus.

Lusibus gaudet puer otiosis,

Luxus oblectat juvenem theatri,

At seni fluxo sapienter uti

Tempore restat.

INSULA KENNETHI, INTER HEBRIDAS.

Parva quidem regio, sed religione priorum

Clara, Caledonias panditur inter aquas.

Voce ubi Cennethus populos domuisse feroces

Dicitur, et vanos dedocuisse deos.

Huc ego delatus placido per caerulea cursu,

Scire locus volui quid daret iste novi.

Illic Leniades humili regnabat in aula,

Leniades, magnis nobilitatus avis.

Una duas cepit casa cum genitore puellas,

Quas amor undarum crederet esse deas.

Nec tamen inculti gelidis latuere sub antris,

Accola Danubii qualia saevus habet.

Mollia non desunt vacuae solatia vitae,

Sive libros poscant otia, sive lyram.

Fulserat ilia dies, legis qua docta supernae

Spes hominum et curas gens procul esse jubet.

Ut precibus justas avertat numinis iras,

Et summi accendat pectus amore boni.

Ponte inter strepitus non sacri munera cultus

Cessarunt, pietas hic quoque cura fuit:

Nil opus est aeris sacra de turre sonantis

Admonitu, ipsa suas nunciat hora vices.

Quid, quod sacrifici versavit foemina libros.

Sint pro legitimis pura labella sacris--

Quo vagor ulterius? quod ubique requiritur hic est;

Hic secura quies, hic et honestus amor.

SKIA.

Ponti profundis clausa recessibus,

Strepens procellis, rupibus obsita,

Quam grata defesso virentem,

Skia, sinum nebulosa pandis!

His cura, credo, sedibus exulat;

His blanda certe pax habitat locis;

Non ira, non moeror quietis

Insidias meditatur horis.

At non cavata rupe latescere,

Menti nec aegrae montibus aviis

Prodest vagari, nec frementes

In specula numerare fluctus.

Humana virtus non sibi sufficit;

Datur nec aequum cuique animum sibi

Parare posse, utcunque jactet

Grandiloquus nimis alta Zeno.

Exaestuantis pectoris impetum,

Rex summe, solus tu regis, arbiter;

Mentisque, te tollente, fluctus;

Te, resident, moderante fluctus.

ODE DE SKIA INSULA.

Permeo terras, ubi nuda rupes

Saxeas miscet nebulis ruinas,

Torva ubi rident steriles coloni

Rura labores.

Pervagor gentes hominum ferorum,

Vita ubi nullo decorata cultu

Squallet informis, tugurique fumis

Foeda latescit.

Inter erroris salebrosa longi,

Inter ignotae strepitus loquelae,

Quot modis, mecum, quid agat, requiro,

Thralia dulcis?

Seu viri curas pia nupta mulcet,

Seu fovet mater sobolem benigna,

Sive cum libris novitate pascit

Sedula mentem.

Sit memor nostri, fideique solvat

Fida mercedem, meritoque blandum

Thraliae discant resonare nomen

Littora Skiae.

SPES.

Apr. 16, 1783.

Hora sic peragit citata cursum;

Sic diem sequitur dies fugacem!

Spes novas nova lux parit, secunda

Spondens omnia credulis homullis;

Spes ludit stolidas, metuque caeco

Lux angit, miseros ludens homullos.

VERSUS COLLARI CAPRAE DOMINI BANKS INSCRIBENDI.

Perpetui, ambita bis terra, praemia lactis

Haec habet, altrici capra secunda Jovis.

AD FOEMINAM QUANDAM GENEROSAM QUAE LIBERTATIS

CAUSAE IN SERMONE PATROCINATA FUERAT.

Liber ut esse velim, suasisti, pulchra Maria:

Ut maneam liber, pulchra Maria, vale.

JACTURA TEMPORIS.

Hora perit furtim laetis, mens temporis aegra

Pigritiam incusat, nec minus hora perit.

Quas navis recipit, quantum sit pondus aquarum,

Dimidrum tanti ponderis intret onus.

Quot vox missa pedes abit, horae parte secunda?

Undecies centum denos quater adde duosque.

[Greek: Eis BIRCHION][a]

[Greek:]

Eiden Alaetheiae proaen chairousa graphonta

Haeroon te bious Birchion, aede sophon

Kai bion, eipen, hotan rhipsaes thanatoio belessi,

Sou pote grapsomenon Birchion allon echois.

[a] The rev. Dr. Thomas Birch, author of the History of the Royal

Society, and other works of note.

[Greek:] Eis to taes ELISSAES peri ton oneiron ainigma.[a]

Tae kallous dunamei ti telos; Zeus panta dedoken

Kupridi, und' autou skaeptra memaele theo.

Aek Dios estin Onap, theios pot' egrapsen Homaeros,

Alla tod' eis thnaetous Kupris epempsen onar

Zeus mounos phlogoenti poleis ekperse kerauno,

Ommasi lampra Dios Kupris oista pherei.

[a] When Johnson had composed this Greek epigram to Mrs. Elizabeth

Carter, he said, in a letter to Cave, "I think she ought to be

celebrated in as many different languages as Louis le grand." His

admiration of her learning was so great, that when he wished to

praise the acquirements of any one excessively, he remarked that, he

knew as much Greek almost as Mrs. Carter. The verses in Elizae

Aenigma are addressed to the same excellent and accomplished lady.

It is now nearly an insult to add, that she translated Epictetus,

and contributed Nos. 44 and 100, to the Rambler. See Boswell, i.

iii. and iv. and preface to Rambler, ii.--ED.

IN ELIZAE AENIGMA.

Quis formae modus imperio? Venus arrogat audax

Omnia, nec curae sunt sua sceptra Jovi.

Ab Jove Maeonides descendere somnia narrat:

Haec veniunt Cypriae somnia missa Deae.

Jupiter unus erat, qui stravit fulmine gentes;

Nunc armant Veneris lumina tela Jovis.

[a]O! Qui benignus crimina ignoscis, pater,

Facilisque semper confitenti ades reo,

Aurem faventem precibus O! praebe meis;

Scelerum catena me laborantem grave

Aeterna tandem liberet clementia,

Ut summa laus sit, summa Christo gloria.

Per vitae tenebras rerumque incerta vagantem

Numine praesenti me tueare, pater!

Me ducat lux sancta, Deus, lux sancta sequatur;

Usque regat gressus gratia fida meos.

Sic peragam tua jussa libens, accinctus ad omne

Mandatum vivam, sic moriarque tibi.

Me, pater omnipotens, de puro respice coelo,

Quem moestum et timidum crimina dira gravant;

Da veniam pacemque mihi, da, mente serena,

Ut tibi quae placeant, omnia promptus agam.

Solvi, quo Christus cunctis delicta redemit,

Et pro me pretium, tu patiare, pater.

[a] This and the three following articles are metrical versions of

collects in the liturgy; the first, of that, beginning, "O God,

whose nature and property"; the second and third of the collects for

the seventeenth and twenty-first Sundays after Trinity; and the

fourth, of the first collect in the communion service.

[Dec. 5, 1784.][a]

Summe Deus, cui caeca patent penetralia cordis;

Quem nulla anxietas, nulla cupido fugit;

Quem nil vafrities peccantum subdola celat;

Omnia qui spectans, omnia ubique regis;

Mentibus afflatu terrenas ejice sordes

Divino, sanctus regnet ut intus amor:

Eloquiumque potens linguis torpentious affer,

Ut tibi laus omni semper ab ore sonet:

Sanguine quo gentes, quo secula cuncta piavit,

Haec nobis Christus promeruisse velit!

[a] The day on which he received the sacrament for the last time; and

eight days before his decease.

PSALMUS CXVII.

Anni qua volucris ducitur orbita,

Patrem coelicolum perpetuo colunt

Quo vis sanguine cretae

Gentes undique carmine.

Patrem, cujus amor blandior in dies

Mortales miseros servat, alit, fovet,

Omnes undique gentes,

Sancto dicite carmine.

[a]Seu te saeva fames, levitas sive improba fecit,

Musca, meae comitem, participemque dapis,

Pone metum, rostrum fidens immitte culullo,

Nam licet, et toto prolue laeta mero.

Tu, quamcunque tibi velox indulserit annus,

Carpe diem; fugit, heu, non revocanda dies!

Quae nos blanda comes, quae nos perducat eodem,

Volvitur hora mihi, volvitur hora tibi!

Una quidem, sic fata volunt, tibi vivitur aestas,

Eheu, quid decies plus mihi sexta dedit!

Olim praeteritae numeranti tempora vitae,

Sexaginta annis non minor unus erit.

[a] The above is a version of the song, "Busy, curious, thirsty fly."

[b]Habeo, dedi quod alteri;

Habuique, quod dedi mihi;

Sed quod reliqui, perdidi.

[b] These lines are a version of three sentences that are said, in the

manuscript, to be "On the monument of John of Doncaster;" and which

are as follow:

What I gave, that I have;

What I spent, that I had;

What I left, that I lost.

[a]E WALTONI PISCATORE PERFECTO EXCERPTUM.

Nunc, per gramina fusi,

Densa fronde salicti,

Dum defenditur imber,

Molles ducimus horas.

Hic, dum debita morti

Paulum vita moratur,

Nunc rescire priora,

Nunc instare futuris,

Nunc summi prece sancta

Patris numen adire est.

Quicquid quraeitur ultra,

Caeco ducit amore,

Vel spe ludit inani,

Luctus mox pariturum.

[a] These lines are a translation of part of a song in the Complete

Angler of Isaac Walton, written by John Chalkhill, a friend of

Spenser, and a good poet in his time. They are but part of the last

stanza, which, that the reader may have it entire, is here given at

length:

If the sun's excessive heat

Make our bodies swelter,

To an osier hedge we get

For a friendly shelter!

Where in a dike,

Perch or pike,

Roach or dace,

We do chase,

Bleak or gudgeon,

Without grudging,

We are still contented.

Or we sometimes pass an hour

Under a green willow,

That defends us from a shower,

Making earth our pillow;

Where we may

Think and pray,

Before death

Stops our breath:

Other joys

Are but toys,

And to be lamented.

[a]Quisquis iter tendis, vitreas qua lucidus undas

Speluncae late Thamesis praetendit opacae;

Marmorea trepidant qua lentae in fornice guttae,

Crystallisque latex fractus scintillat acutis;

Gemmaque, luxuriae nondum famulata nitenti

Splendit, et incoquitur tectum sine fraude metallum;

Ingredere O! rerum pura cole mente parentem;

Auriferasque auri metuens scrutare cavernas.

Ingredere! Egeriae sacrum en tibi panditur antrum!

Hic, in se totum, longe per opaca futuri

Temporis, Henricum rapuit vis vivida mentis:

Hic pia Vindamius traxit suspiria, in ipsa

Morte memor patriae; hic Marmonti pectore prima

Coelestis fido caluerunt semina flammae.

Temnere opes, pretium sceleris, patriamque tueri

Fortis, ades; tibi, sponte, patet venerabile limen.

[a] The above lines are a version of Pope's verses on his own grotto,

which begin, "Thou, who shall stop where Thames' translucent wave."

GRAECORTUM EPIGRAMMATUM VERSIONES METRICAE.

Pag. 2. Brodaei edit. Bas. ann. 1549.

Non Argos pugilem, non me Messana creavit;

Patria Sparta mihi est, patria clara virum.

Arte valent isti, mihi robo revivere solo est,

Convenit ut natis, inclyta Sparta, tuis.

Br. 2.

Quandoquidem passim nulla ratione feruntur,

Cuncta cinis, cuncta et ludicra, cuncta nihil.

Br. 5.

Pectore qui duro, crudos de vite racemos,

Venturi exsecuit vascula prima meri,

Labraque constrictus, semesos, jamque terendos

Sub pedibus, populo praetereunte, jacit.

Supplicium huic, quoniam crescentia gaudia laesit,

Det Bacchus, dederat quale, Lycurge, tibi.

Hae poterant uvae laeto convivia cantu

Mulcere, aut pectus triste levare malis.

Br. 8.

Fert humeris claudum validis per compita caecus,

Hic oculos socio commodat, ille pedes.

Br. 10.

Qui, mutare vias ausus terraeque marisque,

Trajecit montes nauta, fretumque pedes,

Xerxi, tercentum Spartae Mars obstitit acris

Militibus; terris sit pelagoque pudor!

Br. 11.

Sit tibi, Calliope, Parnassum, cura, tenenti,

Alter ut adsit Homerus, adest etenim alter Achilles.

Br. 18.

Ad musas Venus haec: Veneri parete, puellae,

In vos ne missus spicula tendat amor.

Haec musae ad Venerem: sic Marti, diva, mineris,

Hue nunquam volitat debilis iste puer.

Br. 19.

Prospera sors nec te strepitoso turbine tollat,

Nec menti injiciat sordida cura jugum;

Nam vita incertis incerta impellitur auris,

Omnesque in partes tracta, retracta fluit;

Firma manet virtus; virtuti innitere, tutus

Per fluctus vitae sic tibi cursus erit.

Br. 24.

Hora bonis quasi nunc instet suprema fruaris,

Plura ut victurus secula, parce bonis:

Divitiis, utrinque cavens, qui tempore parcit,

Tempore divitiis utitur, ille sapit.

Br. 24.

Nunquam jugera messibus onusta, aut

Quos Gyges cumulos habebat auri;

Quod vitae satis est, peto, Macrine,

Mi, nequid nimis, est nimis probatum.

Br. 24.

Non opto aut precibus posco ditescere, paucis

Sit contenta mihi vita, dolore carens.

Br. 24

Recta ad pauperiem tendit, cui corpora cordi est

Multa alere, et multas aedificare domos.

Br. 24.

Tu neque dulce putes alienae accumbere mensae;

Nec probrosa avidae grata sit offa gulae;

Nec ficto fletu, fictis solvere cachinnis,

Arridens domino, collacrymansque tuo;

Laetior hand tecum, tecum neque tristior unquam,

Sed Miliae ridens, atque dolens Miliae.

Br. 26.

Nil non mortale est mortalibus; omne quod est hie

Praetereunt, aut hos praeterit omne bonum.

Br. 26.

Democrite, invisas homines majore cachinno;

Plus tibi ridendum secula nostra dabunt.

Heraclite, fluat lacrymarum crebrior imber;

Vita hominum nunc plus quod misereris habet.

Interea dubito; tecum me causa nec ulla

Ridere, aut tecum me lacrymare jubet.

Br. 26.

Elige iter vitae, ut possis: rixisque, dolisque,

Perstrepit omne forum; cura molesta domi est;

Rura labor lassat; mare mille pericula terrent;

Verte solum, fient causa timoris opes;

Paupertas misera est; multae, cum conjuge, lites

Tecta ineunt; coelebs omnia solus ages.

Proles aucta gravat, rapta orbat; caeca juventae est

Virtus; canities cauta vigore caret.

Ergo optent homines, aut nunquam in luminis oras

Venisse, aut visa luce repente mori.

Elige iter vitae, ut mavis: prudenua, lausque,

Permeat omne forum; vita quieta domi est;

Rus ornat natura; levat maris aspera lucrum,

Verte solum, donat plena crumena decus;

Pauperies latitat; cum conjuge, gaudia multa

Tecta ineunt; coelebs impediere minus;

Mulcet amor prolis, sopor est sine prole profundus;

Praecellit juvenis vi, pietate senex.

Nemo optet, nunquam venisse in luminis oras,

Aut periisse; scatet vita benigna bonis.

Br. 27.

Vita omnis scena est ludusque: aut ludere disce

Seria seponens, aut mala dura pati.