Their name with Mordaunt's Pope disdains to sing,
Yet with their triumphs does Newmarket ring.
What though, ye Fair! they break thro' honor's
laws;
Yet hence they gain a modish world's applause :
Receiv'd, repuls'd, their boast is still the same,
And still they triumph o'er each injur’d name.
Their vote, we know, ne'er rais'd the drooping state,
But rescu'd operas from impending fate.
Their bounty never bids Affliction smile,
But pampers fidlers with the tradesman's spoil.
No Goth to learning e'er was foe so fell,
Yet their bought praises dedications swell;
Yet White's allows them, in a length of years,
The first of sharpers, though the last of peers.
In vain for such may domes on domes arise, With heads audacious, and invade the skies; In vain dishonor'd stars dart mimic rays, To give their sordid breasts a borrow'd blaze; In vain with lordly rule, their wide domains Swell hundred hills, and spread an hundred plains: If mean, still meaner by their lofty state, (So statues lessen by a base too great) With birth ignoble, poor amid their store, Obscur'd by splendor, impotent with power, By titles stain'd, with beauty unadorn'd, Courted by flattery, but by merit scorn'd, The slaves of slaves, corruption's dirty tools, The prey of villains, and the gaze of fools.
Rise then, my Lord, with noble ardor rise! And whilst your sires before your ravish'd eyes Pass in a grand review, oh! pant for fame, And by your actions dignify their name,
Transmitting thence, with heighten'd lustre down, Honors, that may your future offspring crown!
That sight the Muse with pleasing hope sur
While to the blissful hour her fancy strays,
When in the Hertford of another age
The same fair virtues shall your soul engage;
The same soft meekness and majestic mien
Shall cheer the private, grace the public scene.
From her, to glad at once your ears, and eyes,
A fair Eliza shall with spirit rise,
With lively humor, yet devoid of blame,
And be, with sweet variety, the same;
O'er some blest heart confirm her lasting sway,
With reason sprightly, and with goodness gay.
When to another Beauchamp you shall owe
Those joys, that with your dawning virtues grow,
In him again be born, again shall live,
And take that happiness, which now you give.
Heaven has on you pour'd down his kindest shower,
Health, riches, honors, bless'd your natal hour;
At once an elegance of form and mind,
To please, to serve, and to adorn your kind;
In manners gentle, but in genius strong;
Tho' gay, collected, and polite, tho' young.
These bounteous Heaven bestows! 'tis your's to raise
His gifts, and from their use derive your praise :
His the material, your's the work must be ;
Your choice, my Lord, is fame or infamy.
Oh! should your virtues in pure current flow,
And wealth and pleasure all around bestow,
Till earth no more their length'ning stream can
bound,
Nor sinks their fame in time's vast ocean drown'd,
Say, might the Muse to future age declare,
They were her early honor and her care?
That by her hand the bubbling fount was clear'd,
That, following where the mazy rill appear'd,
She form'd their channel, and their course she steer'd?
Might then this fond ambitious verse pretend,
She taught the pupil, yet preserv'd the friend;
First twin'd the wreaths, that shall your temples
Still in your glory happier than her own?
MR. FOX,
[Afterwards Earl of Ilchester.]
THOU dearest youth, who taught'st me first to know
What pleasures from a real friendship flow;
Where neither interest nor design have part,
But all the warmth is native of the heart;
Thou know'st to comfort, sooth, or entertain,
Joy of my health, and cordial of my pain.
When life seem'd failing on her latest stage,
And fell disease anticipated age;
When wasting sickness and afflictive pain,
By Aesculapius' sons oppos'd in vain,
Forc'd me reluctant, desperate, to explore
A warmer sun, and seek a milder shore ;
Thy steady love with unexampled truth,
Forsook each gay companion of thy youth,
Whate'er the prosp❜rous or the great employs,
Bus'ness and int'rest, and love's softer joys,
The weary steps of mis'ry to attend,
To share distress, and make a wretch thy friend.
If o'er the mountain's snowy height we stray,
Where Carthage first explor'd the vent'rous way;
Or through the tainted air of Rome's parch'd plains,
Where Want resides, and Superstition reigns;
Chearful and unrepining, still you bear
Each dangerous rigor of the various year;
And kindly anxious for thy friend alone,
Lament his suff'rings, and forget thy own.
Oh! would kind Heav'n, these tedious suff'rings past,
Permit me Ickworth, rest, and health at last,
In that lov'd shade, my youth's delightful seat,
My early pleasure, and my late retreat,
Where lavish Nature's favorite blessings flow,
And all the Seasons all their sweets bestow;
There might I trifle carelessly away
The milder evening of life's clouded day,
From bus'ness and the world's intrusion free,
With books, with love, with beauty, and with thee
No farther want, no wish yet unpossest
Could e'er disturb this unambitious breast.
Let those who Fortune's shining gifts implore,
Who sue for glory, splendor, wealth, or pow'r,
View this unactive state with scornful eyes,
And pleasures they can never taste, despise;
Let them still court that goddess' falser joys,
Who, while she grants their pray'r, their peace de-
stroys.
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