Sworn enemy to falsehood base, Against corruption firm and steady, Not for one single heat or race, But always booted, always ready; You rose at Freedom's sacred call, Snatch'd her from th' invading great, Added new trophies to her hall, And fix'd the Goddess in her seat ! 'Tis the wise use, not the possessing The smiles of Fortune or of Kings, That can make Wealth a real blessing, Or take from Poverty her stings. That dignifies the virtuous man, Scorning tho' poor to flinch or falter, Who for his prince, or his dear clan, Despises the impending halter. ΤΟ MAECENAS, Lord Bute. By the Same. OFFSPRING of British Kings of yore, Quit those damp glades, nor musing mope, Enchanted, with your arms across, Fix'd like a statue on a slope, Or the pagoda like a Joss. Let not the noise of yon black city A grateful change to homely fare, A cot, a barn-door fowl, and mutton, Oft smooth the anxious face of Care, And Squeamishness herself turns glutton. Now Phoebus rages, now the swain Upon the Thames there's not a breeze, There you form all your decent plans, Heav'n kindly keeps us in the dark, And, spight of all our fine-spun schemes, Laughs, when we over shoot the mark, Both at our fears and sanguine dreams, The present's all we have to heed; Now smooth and pleasant as the Tweed, Tumbling with fury down the vale, The rocks resound, the mountains rattle; Pines float along with groves of cale, Huts, plaids, blue bonnets, and black cattle. Happy is he who lives to-day, Lives for himself, 'tis so much gain, 'Tis done-nor can the pow'r of Fate Let her pursue her cruel sport, She cannot, as she does at court, Faithful while she continues mine; The painted harlot I resign, And Virtue, though unportion'd, wed. When the storm beats, and seas run high, To spare my curious Cyprian wares. Nor dup'd by Hope, like many a one, ODE XXXV. I ΤΟ DANIEL WEBB, ESQ. By the Same. WOULD, with all my heart and soul, And with each bowl a purse of gold, To every military friend, Tripods fit only for brave fellows; Pictures I'd send of every school, With statues too, and busts for niches; These I would send to none but you, The prince and mirror of virtú, If I was master of such riches. |