The rich, the great, the gay, and the fevere;
The penfion'd architect of laws;
The patriot, loud in virtue's caufe;
Proud of imputed worth, the peer:
Regardless of his faith, his country, or his name,
He pawns his honour and estate;
Nor reckons at how dear a rate
He purchases disease, and fervitude, and shame.
Not from fuch daftard fires, to every virtue loft,
Sprung the brave youth which Britain once could boast:
Who curb'd the Gaul's ufurping fway,
Who fwept th' unnumber'd hofts away,
In Agincourt, and Creffy's glorious plain;
Who dy'd the feas with Spanish blood,
Their vainly-vaunted fleets fubdu❜d,
And spread the mighty wreck o'er all the vanquifh'd main.
No;-'twas a generous race, by worth tranfmiffive known:
In their bold breaft their fathers fpirit glow'd;
In their pure veins their mothers virtue flow'd:
They made hereditary praise their own.
The fire his emulous offspring led
The rougher paths of fame to tread ;
The matron train'd their spotless youth
In honour, fanctity, and truth;
Form'd by th' united parents care,
The fons, tho' bold, were wife; the daughters chafte, tho' fair.
How Time, all-wasting, ev'n the worst impairs,
And each foul age to dregs still fouler runs!
Our fires, more vicious ev'n than theirs,
Left us, ftill more degenerate heirs,
To spawn a bafer brood of monfter-breeding fons.
A POEM, written in Imitation of SPENSER.
HERE early Phoebus fheds his milder beams,
The happy gardens of Adonis lay:
There Time, well pleas'd to wonne, a youth befeems.
Ne yet his wings were fledg'd, ne locks were grey;
Round him in fweet accord the Seasons play
With fruits and bloffoms meint, in goodly gree;
And dancing hand in hand rejoice the lea.
Sick gardens now no mortal wight can fee,
Ne mote they in my fimple verfe descriven be.
The temper'd clime full many a tree affords ;
Thofe
many trees blush forth with ripen'd fruite;
The blushing fruite to feast invites the birds;
The birds with plenteous feasts their ftrength recruite;
And warble fongs more sweet than shepherd's flute.
The gentle stream that roll'd the stones among,
Charm'd with the place, almoft forgot its fuite;
But lift'ning and refponding to the fong,
Loit'ring, and winding often, murmured elong.
Here Panacea, here Nepenthe grew,
Here Polygon, and each ambrofial weed;
Whofe vertues could decayed health renew,
And, answering exhausted nature's need,
Mote eath a mortal to immortal feed.
Here lives Adonis in unfading youth;
Celestial Venus grants him that rich meed,
And him fucceffive evermore renew'th,
In recompence for all his faithful love and truth.
Not she, I ween, the wanton queen of love,
All buxom as the waves from whence the rose,
With her twin fons, who idly round her rove,
One Eros hight, the other Anteros;
Albeit brothers, different as foes:
This fated, fullen, apt for bickerment;
That hungry, eager, fit for derring-does.
That flies before, with fcorching flames ybrent;
This foll'wing douts those flames with peevish discontent.
Celestial Venus does fuch ribaulds fhun,
Ne dare they in her purlues to be seen;
But Cupid's torch, fair mother's fairest son,
Shines with a fteady unconfuming fheen;
Not fierce, yet bright, coldness and rage between.
The backs of lyons felloneft he strod;
And lyons tamely did themselves amene;
On nature's wild full fov'reignly he rod;
Wild natures, chang'd, confefs'd the mild puiffant god.
A beauteous Fay, or heav'n-defcended spright,
Sprung from her fire, withouten female's aid,
(As erft Minerva did) and Psyche hight,
In that inclosure happy fojourn made.
No art fome heel'd uncomelynefs betray'd,
But nature wrought her many-colour'd ftole;
Ne tarnish'd like an Æthiopian maid,
Scorch'd with the funs that ore her beauties roll;
Ne faded like the dames who bleach beneath the pole.
Nor shame, nor pride of borrow'd fubstance wrought
Her gay embroidery and ornament:
But she who gave the gilded infect's coat
Spun the foft filk, and fpread the various teint:
The gilded infect's colours yet were feint
To thofe which nature for this fairy wove.
Our grannums thus with diff'rent dies befprent,
Adorn'd in naked majesty the grove,
Charm'd our great fires, and warm'd our frozen clime to love.
On either fide, and all adown her back,
With many a ring at equal diftance plac'd,
Contrary to the reft, was heben black,
With fhades of green, quick changing as she pass'd,
All were on ground-work of bright gold orecaft.
The black gave livelood to the greenish hue,
green still deep'd the heben ore it lac'd;
The gold, that peep'd atween and then withdrew,
Gave luftre to them both, and charm'd the wond'ring view.
IX.
It seem'd like arras, wrought with cunning skill,
Where kindly meddle colours, light, and fhade:
Here flows the flood; there rifing wood or hill
Breaks off its courfe; gay verdure dies the mead.
The stream, depeinten by the glitt'rand braid,
Emong the hills now winding feems to hide ;
Now fhines unlook'd for thro' the op'ning glade,
Now in full torrent pours its golden tyde;
Hills, woods, and meads refresh'd, rejoicing by its fide.
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