Did kingdoms groan? he bade oppression cease,
Stern tyrants aw'd, and hush'd the world to peace.
Did justice call? he car'd not what became
Of life, or of life's sweetest breath, his fame :
For her, he dar'd the nobles, peoples hate,
For her he liv'd, for her resign'd to fate.
These were his honors, his high triumphs these!
Oh how unlike the slaves of wealth and ease:
With plenty curst, to make their life a void,
Too great, too noble to be well employ'd,
They seek some livery'd friend to drag away
The heavy, cumberous, miserable day.
There are, my Lord, that with unfeeling ear A Scipio's, Sydney's, Falkland's glory hear, Unmov'd a Lonsdale's spotless honor see, Wise, studious, generous, loyal, just, and free! Are proof to every lure of honest fame; And yet of sycophants would buy a name ; Hence birds of throat obscene, and greedy maw, The chattering magpye, the tale-bearing daw, Rooks, vultures, harpies, their vile board surround, While frighted merit flies th' unhallow'd ground, Flies to the private shade, the pure retreat, And to their flatterers leaves the proud and great. What tho' their hands ne'er hold Britannia's reins, Nor swords e'er seek her foes on crimson plains? Yet, Blount shall own they drive six horses well, And Mordington's their bolder courage tell,
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 afflićtive 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,
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