THOUGHTS OCCASIONED BY THE SIGHT OF AN ORIGINAL PICTURE OF KING CHARLES I.
TAKEN AT THE TIME OF HIS TRIAL.
INSCRIBED TO GEORGE CLARKE, EsQ:
Animum pictura pafcit inani
"Multa gemens, largoque humectat flumine vultum.”
AN this be he could Charles, the good, the great,
Be funk by heaven to fuch a dismal state!
How meagre, pale, neglected, worn with care!
What steady sadnefs, and auguft despair!
In thofe funk eyes the grief of years I trace,
And forrow feems acquainted with that face.
Tears, which his heart difdain'd, from me o'erflow,
Thus to furvey God's fubftitute below,
In folenin anguish, and majestic woe、
When spoil'd of empire by unhallow'd hands,
Sold by his flaves, and held in impious bands;
Rent from, what oft had fweeten'd anxious life,
His helpless children, and his bosom wife; 、
Doom'd for the faith, plebeian rage to ftand,
And fall a victim for the guilty land;
Then thus was feen, abandon'd and forlorn,
The king, the father, and the faint to mourn.-
How could't thou, artist, then thy skill display?
Thy fteady hands thy favage heart betray:
Near thy bold work the stunn'd spectators faint,
Nor fee unmov'd, what thou unmov'd could'st paint.
What brings to mind each various feene of woe,
Th' infulting judge, the folemn-mocking show,
The horrid fentence, and accurfed blow.
Where then, juft heaven, was thy unactive hand,
Thy idle thunder, and thy lingering brand!
Thy adamantine fhield, thy angel wings,
And the great Genii of anointed kings !
Treafon and fraud fhall thus the stars regard!
And injur'd virtue meet this fad reward!
So fad, none like, can Time's old records tell,
Though Pompey bled, and poor Darius fell.
All names but one too low-that one too high:
All parallels are wrongs, or blafphemy.
O power fupreme! How fecret are thy ways!
Yet man, vain man, would trace the mystic maze,
With foolish wifdom, arguing, charge his God,
His balance hold, and guide his angry rod;
New-mould the spheres, and mend the sky's defign,
And found th' immenfe with his fhort fcanty line.
Do thou, my foul, the deftin'd period wait,
When God fhall folve the dark decrees of fate,
His now unequal difpenfations clear,
And make all wife and beautiful appear;
When fuffering faints aloft in beams shall glow,
And profperous traitors gnash their teeth below.
Such boding thoughts did guilty conscience dart,
A pledge of hell to dying Cromwell's heart:
Then this pale image seem'd t' invade his room,
Gaz'd him to ftone, and warn'd him to the tomb,
While thunders roll, and nimble lightnings play,
And the ftorm wings his spotted foul away.
A blaft more bounteous ne'er did heaven command To scatter bleffings o'er the British land.
Not that more kind, which dash'd the pride of Spain,
And whirl'd her crush'd Armada round the main ;
Not those more kind, which guide our floating towers,
Waft gums and gold, and made far India ours:
That only kinder, which to Britain's fhore
Did mitres, crowns, and Stuart's race restore,
Renew'd the church, revers'd the kingdom's doom,
And brought with Charles an Anna yet to come.
O Clarke, to whom a Stuart trufts her reign
O'er Albion's fleets, and delegates the main ;
Dear, as the faith thy loyal heart hath fworn,
Tranfmit this piece to ages yet unborn.
This fight fhall damp the raging ruffian's breast,›
The poifon fpill, and half-drawn sword arreft;
To foft compaffion stubborn traitors bend,
And, one destroy'd, a thousand kings defend.
A FRAGMENT OF A POEM ON HUNTING.
"Dona cano divûm, lætas venantibus artes,
66 Aufpicio, Diana, tuo-
WORSES and hounds, their care, their various race,
The numerous beafts, that range the rural chace, The huntfman's chofen fcenes, his friendly stars, The laws and glory of the fylvan wars,
I first in British verfe prefume to raise;
A venturous rival of the Roman praise.
Let me, chafte Queen of Woods, thy aid obtain,
Bring here thy light-foot nymphs, and sprightly train:
If oft, o'er lawns, thy care prevents the day
To rouse the foe, and prefs the bounding prey,
Woo thine own Phoebus in the task to join,
And grant me genius for the bold defign.
In this soft shade, O footh the warrior's fire,
And fit his bow-ftring to the trembling lyre;
And teach, while thus their arts and arms we fing,
The groves to echo, and the vales to ring.
Thy care be firft the various gifts to trace,
The minds and genius of the latrant race.
In powers diftin&t the different clans excel,
In fight, or fwiftnefs, or fagacious smell;
By wiles ungenerous fome furprize the prey,
And fome by courage win the doubtful day.
Seeft thou the gaze-hound! how with glance fevere
From the clofe herd he marks the deftin'd deer!
How every nerve the greyhound's ftretch displays,
The hare preventing in her airy maze e;
The lucklefs prey how treacherous tumblers gain,
And dauntless wolf-dogs fhake the lion's mane;
O'er all, the blood-hound boasts superior skill,
To scent, to view, to turn, and boldly kill !
His fellows' vain alarms rejects with fcorn,
True to the master's voice, and learned horn.
His noftrils oft, if ancient fame fing true,
Trace the fly felon through the tainted dew;
Once fnuff'd, he follows with unalter'd aim,
Nor odours lure him from the chofen game;
Deep-mouth'd he thunders, and inflam'd he views,
Springs on relentless, and to death purfues.
Some hounds of manners vile (nor lefs we find
Of fops in hounds, than in the reafoning kind)
Puff'd with conceit run gladding o'er the plain,
And from the scent divert the wiser train;
For the foe's footsteps fondly fnuff their own,
And mar the mufic with their fenfelefs tone;
Start at the starting prey, or rustling wind,
And, hot at first, inglorious lag behind.
A fauntering tribe! may fuch my foes difgrace!
Give me, ye gods, to breed the nobler race.
Nor grieve thou to attend, while truths unknown
I fing, and make Athenian arts our own.
Dost thou in hounds aspire to deathless fame ?
Learn well their lineage and their ancient stem.
Each tribe with joy old ruftic heralds trace,
And fing the chofen worthies of their race;
How his fire's features in the fon were spy'd,
When Die was made the vigorous Ringwood's brida.
Lefs fure thick lips the fate of Austria doom,
Or eagle noses rul'd almighty Rome.
Good fhape to various kinds old bards confine,
Some praise the Greek, and fome the Roman line;
And dogs to beauty make as differing claims,
As Albion's nymphs, and India's jetty dames.
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