And all the gnawing pangs of vain remorse?
What torment's this?--Therefore, O greatly
thought,
Therefore do justice on thyself—and live;
Live above all most infinitely wretched.
Ismena too-Nay, then, avenging Heaven
Ismena enters.
Has vented all its rage.- -O wretched maid!
Why dost thou come to swell my raging grief!
Why add to sorrows, and embitter woes?
Why do thy mournful eyes upbraid my guilt?
Why thus recall to my afflicted soul
The sad remambrance of my god-like son,
Of that dear youth my cruelty has ruin'd?
Ruin'd!- -O all ye powers! O awful Theseus! Say, where's my lord? say, where has Fate dispos'd him?
Oh speak! the fear distracts me.
Gods! Can I speak? Can I declare his fate to his Ismena? Oh lovely maid! Could'st thou admit of comfort, Thou should'st for ever be my only care, Work of my life, and labour of my soul.
For thee alone, my sorrows, lull'd, shall cease;
Cease for a while to mourn my murder'd son:
For thee alone my sword once more shall rage,
Restore the crown of which it robbed your race:
Then let your grief give way to thoughts of em-
pire;
At thy own Athens reign. The happy crowd
Beneath thy easy yoke with pleasure bow,
And think in thee their own Minerva reigns.
O! had not passion sully'd her renown,
None e'er on Earth had shone with equal lustre ;
So glorious liv'd, or so lamented dy'd."
Her faults were only faults of raging love,
Her virtues all her own.
Unhappy Phædra! Was there no other way, ye pitying powers, No other way to crown Ismena's love? Then must I ever mourn her cruel fate, And in the midst of my triumphant joy, Ev'n in my hero's arms, confess some sorrow.
O tende maid! forbear, with ill-tim'd grief, To damp our blessings, and incense the gods: But let's away, and pay kind Heav'n our thanks For all the wonders in our favour wrought; That Heaven, whose mercy rescued erring Theseus From execrable crimes, and endless woes. Then learn from me, ye kings that rule the world, With equal poize let steady justice sway, And flagrant crimes with certain vengeance pay, But, till the proofs are clear, the stroke delay.
BIRTH OF THE PRINCE OF WALES.1 JAM non vulgares, Isis, molire triumphos, Augustos Isis nunquam tacitura Stuartos. Tu quoties crebris cumulâsti altaria donis Multa rogans numen, cui vincta jugalia curæ ! At jam votivam Superis suspende tabellam ; Sunt rata vota tibi, sævique oblita doloris Amplexu parvi gaudet Regina Jacobi. Languentes dudum priscus vigor afflat ocellos, Infans et caræ suspensus in oscula Matris Numine jam spirat blando, visumque tenellum Miscet parva quidem, sed vivida Patris imago. O etiam patrio vivat celebratus honore, Vivat canitie terris venerandus eâdem !
'From the Strenæ Natalitiæ Academiæ Oxonjensis in celsissimum Principem. Oxonii,è Theatro Sheldoniano. An. Dom. 1688,-The uncommon excellence of Edmund Smith's productions must ensure them a favourable reception; especially when it is considered, that at the time of their composition he was only one remove from a schoolboy. Had Dr. Johnson seen the first of these publications, he would not have been at a loss to determine, in the excellent life he has given the world of Smith, whether the latter was admitted in the university in the year 1689, as he would thence have been enabled to pronounce with certainty, that he was in 1688 a member of Christ Church. I take this to have been the year of Smith's admission; and that he was then just come off from Westminster, in time to signalize his abilities by writing on the Birth of the Prince of Wales, when a FRESHMAN (according to the university phrase) and before he was appointed to a studentship; for his name is subscribed to that copy of verses, with the addition of COMMONER. The great superiority of genius that is displayed in this first-school-boy's-production of Smith, beyond what Addison has discovered in his first performance-the Pastoral on the Inauguration of King William and Queen Mary-sufficiently serves to account for Smith's being, as Dr. Johnson observes, "one of the murmurers at fortune; and wondering, why he was suffered to be poor, when Addison was caressed and preferred." Smith could not but be conscious of the greater degree of literary merit he himself possessed even in the very department to which Addison owed the earlier part of his fame, THE WRITING OF LATIN VERSE; -and on comparing their juvenile performances, it is evident that Smith had reason enough for that consciousness.-Addison first recommended himself to notice by his dedication of the Muse AngliCane to Lord Halifax, and by the poems of his own therein inserted. But what are his poems in comparison of SMITH'S.
Omen habet certè superâ quod vescitur aurâ
Tum primum, lætos æstas cum pandat honores,
Omnia cum vireant, cum formosissimus annus.
Et Vos felices optatâ prole Parentes!
Quos nunc Parca piis respexit mota querelis:
En! vestræ valuêre preces; victrixque Deorum
Fata movet pietas, quamvis nolentia flecti:
Proles chara datur senio, inconcessa juventæ.
Si citiùs soboles nullo miranda daretur
Prodigio, sanctis vix digna Parentibus esset:
O quæ vita dabit, cui dat miracula partus ?
I, Princeps, olim patrios imitare triumphos,
Et semper magni vestigia Patris adora :
Hic primâ nondum indutus lanugine malas
Invictis orbem per totum inclaruit armis.
Illius ad ton tru Batavi tremuêre; Jacobum
Agnovit dominum summissis navita velis.
Te quoque Belga tremat, metuat rediviva Jacobi
Fulmina, cujus adhuc miserè conservat hiantes
Ore cicatrices, vastæ et monumenta ruinæ.
Subjectus famulas Nereus Tibi porrigat undas:
Ipse tuo da jura mari.
Cumque Pater tandem divis miscebitur ipse
Divus (at ô! tardè sacra ducite stamina, Parcæ,)
Assere tu nostri jus immortale Monarchæ;
Tu rege subjectum patriis virtutibus orben.
EDMUNDUS SMITH, Edis Christi Commensalis.
KING WILLIAM AND QUEEN MARY'.
MAURITII ingentis celso de sanguine natum,
Mauritioque parem, solenni dicere versu
Te, Gulielme, juvat: nunc ô! mihi pectora flamma
Divinâ caleant, nunc me furor excitet idem,
Qui Te, ingens heros, bello tot adire labores
Instigat, mediosque ardentem impellit in hostes.
Te tenero latè jactabat faina sub ævo :
Capisti, quà finis erat; maturaque virtus
Edidit ante diem fructus, tardèque sequentes
Annos præcurrit longè, et post terga reliquit.
Jam Te, jam videor flagrantes cernere vultus,
Dum primas ducis fervens in prælia turmas :
Jam cerno oppositas acies, quanto impete præceps
Tela per et gladios raperis; quo fulmine beli
Adversum frangis cuneum, et media agmina misces.
Num ferus invadit Belgas Turennius heros,
Invictis semper clarus Turennius armis,
Et, quacunque ruit, ferro bacchatur et igni ?
Tu primo vernans jucundæ flore juventæ
Congrederis, ducente Deo, Deus ipse Batavis.
Congrederis; non Te Gallorum immania terrent
Agmina, non magni Turennius agminis instar.
Heu quas tum ferro strages, quæ funera latè
Edideris, quantosque viros demiseris orco!
Sic cum congestos struxêre ad sidera montes
Terrigenæ fratres, superos detrudere cœlo
Aggressi, posito tum plectro intonsus Apollo
Armatâ sumpsit fatalia spicula dextrâ :
Tunc audax ruit in bellum, et furit acer in armis,
Et Martem, atque ipsas longè anteit fulminis alas.
From the Vota Oxoniensia pro serenissimis Guilhelmo Rege et Maria Regina M. Britanniæ, &c. nuncupata. Oxonii, è Theatro Sheldoniano. An. Dom. 1689.
Extremos & quàm vellem memorare labores! Quàm vellem sævi superata pericula ponti ! Cui meritò nunc jura dabis: quam flebile fatum Tristesque illorum exequias, quos obruit æquor Immeritos, canere; at jamjam sub pondere tanto Deficio, heroemque sequor non passibus æquis. Sed fesso memoranda dies, quâ regna Britannûm Debita, quâ sacros sceptri regalis honores Accipies, cingesque aureo diademate frontem. Anglos servasti; da jura volentibus Anglis. Sic gravis Alcides humeris ingentibus olim Fulcivit patrium, quem mox possedit, Olympum. E. SMITH, Ædis Christi Alumnus.
KING WILLIAM FROM IRELAND,
After the battle of the Boyne3.
O INGENS Heros! O tot defuncte periclis!
Ergo iterum victor nostris allaberis oris ?
Atque os belligerum, torvumque in prælia numen
Exuis, et blandâ componis regna quiete?
Ergo iterum placidâ moderaris voce Senatum ?
Oraque divinum spirant jam mitia lumen?
Non sic cum trepidos ageres violentus Hibernos;
Cum bello exultans fremeres, ensemque rotares
Immani gyro, rubris bacchatus in arvis
Invitus: (neque enim crudeles edere strages
Te juvat, aut animis Ditem satiare Tuorum.)
Sic olim amplexus Semeles petiisse Tonantem
Fama est, terribilem nigranti fulmine et igni :
Maluit hic caris accumbere mitior ulnis,
Inque suam invitum trahit inscia Nympha ruinam.
Tu tamen, & toties Wilhelmi assueta triumphis
Calliope, ô nunquam Heroum non grata labori,
Wilhelmi immensos iterum enumerare triumphos
Incipe, et in notas iterum te attollere laudes.
Ut requiem, fædæque ingloria tædia pacis
Exosus, rursusque ardens in Martia castra,
Sanguineasque acies, fulgentesque ære catervas,
In bellum ruit, atque iterum se misit in arma.
Gallus enim sævit, miserosque cruentus Hibernos
Servitio premit, et victâ dominatur lerne.
Hinc furcæ, tormenta, cruces, tractæque catenæ
Horrendum strident: iterumque resurgere credas
Macquirum squallentem, atque Angio sanguine
Exultantem immane, et vastâ clade superbum.
O Gens lethifero nequicquam exempta veneno!
Frustra bufo tuis, et aranea cessit ab oris,
Dum pecus Ignati invisum, fœdique cuculli,
Et Monachi sanetè protenso abdomine tardi
Vipercam nspirant animam, inficiuntque veneno.
Assurgit tandem Schombergus, et emicat armis,
Qui juga captivo excutiat servilia collo:
Sed frustra: securo hostis munimine valli
Aut latet, aut errat vagus, eluditque sequentem.
Augendis restat Gulielmi Celta triumphis;
Vindiciis semper Gulielmi fata reservant
Et vincia eripere, et manibus divellere nodos.
Sic frustra Atrides, frustra Telamonius heros,
Ad Trojam frustra pugnarunt mille carinæ,
Nec nisi Achilleâ funduntur Pergama dextrâ.
Ergo, Boanda, tuis splendet Gulielmus in arvis,
Magna Boanda, ipsi famâ haud cessura Mosellæ.
Ut major graditur bello, ut jam gaudia in igneis
Scintillant oculis, et toto pectore fervent!
Quantum olli jubar affulget, quæ gratia frontis
Purpurei metuenda, et non inamabilis horror!
Sic cum dimissum fertur per nubila fulmen,
Et juvat, et nimiâ perstringit lumina flammâ.
Ut volat, ut longè primus rapidum insilit alveum!
Turbine quo præceps cunctantem tendit in hostem!
Dum vastas strages et multa cadavera passim
Amnis purpureo latè devolvit in alveo:
Dum pergenti obstat moles immensa suorum,
Et torpet misto coacretum sanguine Flumen.
Pergit atrox Heros; frustra olli tempora circum
Spicula mille canunt,luduntque in vertice flammæ:
Frustra bastatæ acies obstant, firmæque phalanges;
Frustra acres Celtæ: furit ille, atque impiger
Et fugat, et sternit, totoque agit agmina campo. Versus retro hostis trepidè fugit, inque paludes, Torpentesque lacus cano, horrendosque recessus Dumorum; et cæci prodest injuria Cæli.
Attamen ô, non sic fausto movet alite bellum Schombergus; non sic nobis favet alea Martis. Occidit heu! Schombergus iniqui crimine Cœli; Non illum vernans circum sua tempora laurus Conservat, non arcet inevitabile fulmen.
At nunc ad Cælum fugit, et pede sidera calcat,
Spectat et Heroes, ipse et spectandus ab illis.
Hunc dicet veniens ætas, serique nepotes,
Et quicunque Anglum audierint rugire Leonem.
Cœpit enim rugire, et jamjam ad mœnia victor
Caletana fremit trux, Dunkirkumque reposcit.
Cresseas iteruin lauros magnique tropæa
Henrici repetit: media Lodoicus in aulâ
Jamdudum tremit, et Gulielmi ad nomina pallet.
EDM. SMITH, dis Chr. Alumn.
SINCE our Isis silently deplores
The bard who spread her fame to distant shores ;
Since nobler pens their mournful lays suspend,
My honest zeal, if not my verse, commend,
Forgive the poet, and approve the friend.
Your care had long his fleeting life restrain'd,
One table fed you, and one bed contain'd;
For his dear sake long restless nights you bore,
While rattling coughs his heaving vessels tore,
Much was his pain, but your affliction more.
Oh! had no summons from the noisy gown
Call'd thee, unwilling, to the nauseous town,
Thy love had o'er the dull disease prevail'd,
Thy mirth had cur'd where baffled physic fail'd;
But since the will of Heaven his fate decreed,
3 From the Academiæ Oxoniensis Gratulatio pro exoptato serenissimi Regis Guilielmo ex Hi-To thy kind care my worthless lines succeed;
bernia reditu. Oxoniæ, è Theatro Sheldoniano. Anno Dom. 1690,
Fruitless our hopes, though pious our essays, Yours to preserve a friend, and mine to praise.
Oh! might I paint him in Miltonian verse, With strains like those he sung on Glo'ster's
But with the meaner tribe I'm forc'd to chime, And, wanting strength to rise, descend to rhyme. With other fire his glorious Blenheim shines, And all the battle thunders in his lines;
His nervous verse great Boileau's strength transcends,
And France to Philips, as to Churchill, bends.
Oh, various bard, you all our powers control,
You now disturb, and now divert the soul:
Milton and Butler in thy Muse combine,
Above the last thy manly beauties shine;
For as I've seen, when rival wits contend,
One gayly charge, one gravely wise defend,
This on quick turns and points in vain relies,
This with a look demure, and steady eyes,
With dry rebukes, or sneering praise, replies:
So thy grave lines extort a juster smile,
Reach Butler's fancy, but surpass his style;
He speaks Scarron's low phrase in humble strains,
In thee the solemn air of great Cervantes reigns.
What sounding lines his abject themes express!
What shining words the pompous Shilling dress!
There, there my cell, immortal made, outvies
The frailer piles which o'er its ruins rise.
In her best light the Comic Muse appears,
When she, with borrow'd pride, the buskin wears.
Sowhen nurse Nokes, to act young Ammon tries,
With shambling legs, long chin, and foolish eyes;
With dangling hands he strokes th' imperial robe;
And, with a cuckold's air, commands the globe;
The pomp and sound the whole buffoon display'd,
And Ammon's son more mirth than Gomez made.
Forgive, dear shade, the scene my folly draws,
Thy strains divert the grief thy ashes cause;
When Orpheus sings, the ghosts no more complain,
But, in his lulling music, lose their pain:
So charm the sallies of thy Georgic Muse,
So calm our sorrows, and our joys infuse;
Here rural notes a gentle mirth inspire,
Here lofty lines the kindling reader fire,
Like that fair tree you praise, the poem charms,
Cools like the fruit, or like the juice it warms.
Blest clime, which Vaga's fruitful streams im-
Etruria's envy, and her Cosmo's love; [prove,
Redstreak he quaffs beneath the Chiant vine,
Gives Tuscan yearly for thy Scudimore's wine,
And ev❜n his Tasso would exchange for thine.
Rise, rise, Roscommon, see the Blenheim Muse
The dull constraint of monkish rhyme refuse;
See, o'er the Alps his towering pinions soar,
Where never English poet reach'd before:
See mighty Cosmo's counsellor and friend,
By turns on Cosmo and the bard attend;
Rich in the coins and busts of ancient Rome,
In him he brings a nobler treasure home;
In them he views her gods, and domes design'd,
In him the soul of Rome, and Virgil's mighty mind:
To him for ease retires from toils of state,
Not half so proud to govern, as translate.
Our Spenser, first by Pisan poets taught,
To us their tales, their style, and numbers brought.
To follow ours, now. Tuscan bards descend,
From Philips borrow, though to Spenser lend,
Like Philips too the yoke of rhyme disdain;
They first on English bards impos'd the chain,
First by an English bard from rhyme their free-
Tyrannic rhyme, that cramps to equal chime
The gay, the soft, the florid, and sublime;
Some say this chain the doubtful sense decides,
Confines the fancy, and the judgement guides;
I'm sure in needless bonds it poets ties,
Procrustes like, the ax or whee¡ applies,
To lop the mangled sense, or stretch it into size:
At best a crutch, that lifts the weak along,
Supports the feeble, but retards the strong;
And the chance thoughts, when govern'd by the
close,
Oft rise to fustian, or descend to prose.
Your judgement, Philips, rul'd with steady sway,
You us'd no curbing rhyme, the Muse to stay,
To stop her fury, or direct her way.
Thee on the wing thy uncheck'd vigour bore,
To wanton freely, or securely soar.
So the stretch'd cord the shackle-dancer tries,
As prone to fall, as impotent to rise;
When freed he moves, the sturdy cable bends,
He mounts with pleasure, and secure descends;
Now dropping seems to strike the distant ground,
Now high in air his quivering feet rebound.
Rail on, ye triflers, who to Will's repair For new lampoons, fresh cant, or modish air; Rail on at Milton's son, who, wisely bold, Rejects new phrases, and resumes the old : Thus Chaucer lives in younger Spenser's strains, In Maro's page reviving Ennius reigns; The ancient words the majesty complete, And make the poem venerably great: So when the queen in royal habit's drest, Old mystic emblems grace th' imperial vest, And in Eliza's robes all Anna stands confest.
A haughty bard, to fame by volumes rais'd At Dick's, and Batson's, and through Smithfield, prais'd,
Cries out aloud-" Bold Oxford bard, forbear
With rugged numbers to torment my ear;
Yet not like thee the heavy critic soars,
But paints in fustian, or in turn deplores;
With Bunyan's style prophanes heroic songs,
To the tenth page lean homilies prolongs;
For far-fetch'd rhymes makes puzzled angels strain,
And in low prose dull Lucifer complain;
His envions Muse, by native dulness curst,
Damns the best poems, and contrives the worst.
Beyond his praise or blame thy works prevail
Complete, where Dryden and thy Milton fail;
Great Milton's wing on lower themes subsides,
And Dryden oft in rhyme his weakness hides;
You ne'er with jingling words deceive the ear,
And yet, on humble subjects, great appear.
Thrice happy youth, whom noble Isis crowns!
Whom Blackmore censures, and Godolphin owns:
So on the tuneful Margarita's tongue
The listening nymphs and ravish'd heroes hung:
But cits and fops the heaven-born music blame,
And bawl, and hiss, and damn her into fame;
Like her sweet voice, is thy harmonious song,
As high, as sweet, as easy, and as strong.
Oh! had relenting Heaven prolong'd his days, The towering bard had sung in nobler lays, How the last trumpet wakes the lazy dead, How saints aloft the cross triumphant spread; How opening Heavens their happy regions show; And yawning gulphs with flaming vengeance glow; And saints rejoice above, and sinners howl below: Well might he sing the day he could not fear, And paint the glories he was sure to wear.
Oh best of friends, will ne'er the silent urn To our just vows the hapless youth return? Must he no more divert the tedious day? Nor sparkling thoughts in antique words convey? No more to harmless irony descend, To noisy fools a grave attention lend, Nor merry tales with learn'd quotations blend? No more in false pathetic phrase complain Of Delia's wit, her charms, and her disdain? Who now shall godlike Anna's fame diffuse? Must she, when most she merits, want a Muse? Who now our Twysden's glorious fate shall tell; How lov'd he liv'd, and how deplor'd he fell? How, while the troubled elements around, Earth, water, air, the stunning din resound; Through streams of smoke, and adverse fire, he While every shot is levell'd at his sides? How, while the fainting Dutch remotely fire, And the fam'd Eugene's iron troops retire, In the first front, amidst a slaughter'd pile, High on the mound he dy'd near great Argyle. Whom shall I find unbiass'd in dispute, Eager to learn, unwilling to confute! To whom the labours of my soul disclose, Reveal my pleasure, or discharge my vows! Oh! in that heavenly youth for ever ends The best of sons, of brothers, and of friends. He sacred Friendship's strictest laws obey'd, Yet more by Conscience than by Friendship sway'd; Against himself his gratitude maintain'd, By favours past, not future prospects' gain'd: Not nicely choosing, though by all desir'd, Though learn'd, not vain; and humble, though Candid to all, but to himself severe, In humour pliant, as in life austere. A wise content his even soul secur'd, By want not shaken, nor by wealth allur'd. To all sincere, though earnest to conimend, Could praise a rival, or condemn a friend. To him old Greece and Rome were fully known, Their tongues, their spirits, and their styles, his
Pleas'd the least steps of famous men to view,
Our authors' works, and lives, and souls, he knew;
Paid to the learn'd and great the same esteem,
The one his pattern, and the one his theme:
With equal judgment his capacious mind
Warm Pindar's rage, and Euclid's reason join'd.
Judicious physic's noble art to gain
All drugs and plants explor'd, alas, in vain!
The drugs and plants their drooping master fail'd,
Nor goodness now, nor learning aught avail'd;
Yet to the bard his Churchill's soul they gave,
And made him scorn the life they could not save:
Else could he bear unmov'd, the fatal guest,
The weight that all his fainting limbs opprest,
The coughs that struggled from his weary breast?
Could he unmov'd approaching death sustain?
Its slow advances, and its racking pain?
Could he serene his weeping friends survey,
In his last hours his easy wit display,
Like the rich fruit he sings, delicious in decay?
Once on thy friends look down, lamented
shade,
And view the honours to thy ashes paid;
Some thy lov'd dust in Parian stones enshrine,
Others immortal epitaphs design,
With wit, and strength, that only yields to thine:
Ev'n 1, though slow to touch the painful string,
Awake from slumber, and attempt to sing.
Thee, Philips, thee despairing Vaga mourns,
And gentle isis soft complaints returns;
Dormer laments amidst the war's alarms,
And Cecil weeps in beauteous Tufton's arms:
Thee, on the Po, kind Somerset deplores,
And ev'n that charming scene his grief restores:
He to thy loss each mournful air app ies,
Mindful of thee on huge Taburnus lies,
But most at Virgil's tomb his swelling sorrows rise.
But you, his darling friends, lament no more,
Display his fame, and not his fate deplore;
And let no tears from erring pity flow,
For one that's blest above, immortaliz'd below.
CHARLETTUS PERCIVALLO SUO,
HORA dum nondum sonuit secunda,
Nec puer nigras tepefecit undas,
Acer ad notos calamus labores
Sponte recurrit.
Quid priùs nostris potiúsve chartis
Illinam? Cuinam vigil ante noctem
Sole depulsam redeunte Scriptor
Mitto salutem?
Tu meis chartis, bone Percivalle,
Unicè dignus; tibi pectus implet
Non minor nostro novitatis ardor;
Tu quoque Scriptor.
Detulit rumor (mihi multa defert
Rumor) in sylvis modo te dedisse
Furibus prædamı, mediumque belli im-
pune stetisse.
Saucius num vivit adhuc Caballus
Anne? Ierneis potiora Gazis,
An, tua vitâ Tibi chariora,
Scripta supersunt?
Cui legis nostras, relegisque chartas? Cui meam laudas generositatem? Quem meis verbis, mea nescientem. Mane salutas.
PERCIVALLUS CHARLETTO SUO.
QUALIS ambabus capiendus ulnis
Limen attingit tibi gratus hospes
Quum sacras primum subit aut relinquit
Isidis arces,
Qualis exultat tibi pars mamillæ
Læva, quùm cantu propriore strident
Missiles, et jam moneant adesse
Cornua, chartas,
Tale per nostrum jecur et medullas
Gaudium fluxit, simul ac reclusis
Vinculis vidi benè literati
Nomen amici,
Obvios fures, uti fama verax
Rettulit, sensi pavidus tremensque;
Sed fui, sumque, excipias timorem,
Cætera sospes.
Scire si sylvam cupias pericli
Consciam, et tristes nemoris tenebras,
Consulas lentè tabulas parantem
Te duce Colum.
Flebilis legi miseranda docti
Fata pictoris, sed & hoc iniqua
Damna consolor, superest perempto
Rixone Wildgoose.
|