FRIENDSHIP,

AN ODE.

TO DR. WILLIAM CUMMING, OF DORCHESTER.

EXALTED passion-pure ethereal flame,

Reason's perfection-truest, best delight! Like her great laws unchangeably the same, And like her radiant source serenely bright.

How shall I sing of thee! best of human joys!
Thy blameless sweet endearments how rehearse!
How aim a flight the soaring seraph tries!

Far too sublime for my unequal verse!

Do thou, Clarissa!--now immortal maid,

Round whose fair brow celestial splendours shine: In Friendship's canse vouchsafe thy fav'ring aid, And teach the trembling lyre to copy thine.

O give the Muse with kindred warmth to glow!
The thoughts inspirit, and the numbers raise,
That all her animated strain may flow,

Suited to godlike Friendship's lasting praise. Friendship! the dearest blessing life can bring; The noblest treasure mortals can enjoy ; Friendship, of happiness th' untroubled spring, Which time, nor death, nor absence can destroy.

Goddess inviolate, she rules the soul

With constancy no falsehood can unbind; She reigns acknowledg'd far as pole from pole, Triumphant as her spotless throne the mind.

Here is the joy when souls congenial meet,

Tun'd to one equal tone by sense divine! When social minds at first acquaintance greet, An intercourse no language can define.

Here is the sympathetic pleasure found,

When the full heart with kindness overflows; The union her's, by mutual honour bound, The highest bliss that guardian Heav'n bestows.

Of sacred Wisdom, she the blameless child,
Increases every blameless joy below;
Or, join'd with Patience fair, (her sister mild)
Delights to soften ev'ry guiltless woe!

Vice, aw'd by her, amidst the blaze of pow'r, Abash'd, the prevalence of virtue owns; And helpless innocence in trouble's hour, Enjoys a comfort, not the gift of thrones.

When Flattery, vain usurper of her name,
As fortune wanes, recalls her idle host;
Then kindles brightest her unalter'd flame,
As glows the friendly planet through the frost.

She smiles at Envy and corroding Time;

Souls pair'd by her no pow'r can disunite; Her baliny influence gladdens ev'ry clime, And savage nations feel her fetters light.

When all of art and all of nature dies,

When the dissolving Sun shall veil his head; Friendship, victorious, shall adorn the skies,

Shall shine, when all their fading pomp is fled.

Nor vain his arm-when, beaming from afar, O'er the Columbrian sea he wak'd the war! And calm in conquest bid Britannia reign, Acknowledg'd sovereign of the distant main: Then grateful Albion heard the happy sound, The great avenger of her wrongs was found: Each tongue rejoic'd the hero's praise to swell, And infants learn'd how Porto-Bello fell.

Oh! would the fav'ring Muse my voice inspire, To Vernon's worth to tune the sounding lyre, With equal majesty the notes should rise, Should animated reach the vaulted skies; That future times might the resemblance see, And Britons like their ancestors be free.

Great son of Freedom! still victorious shine, Thine be to conquer, and to save be thine: Let the pale ghosts that haunt the Indian shore, Delighted hear thy vengeful thunders roar, And to each other hail the promis'd hour, When Tyranny shall mourn her blasted pow'r: And righteous Freedom with her guardian smile Shall bless, returning, Cuba's fertile soil.

There while the British cross, to thee assign'd,
Displays its form, and wantons in the wind,
May Victory her fairest laurels spread,
To wait thy purpose, and to crown thy head:
May no retarded succours give thee pain:
Thy gen'rous warmth no arts of power restrain!
Warm'd by thy virtue, let all hearts unite,
Led by thy arm, let Britons learn to fight,
Till taught to yield, and humbled in his turn,
The proud Iberian shall his folly mourn;
And curse the hour, when with his wanton dart
He rous'd the gen'rous lion's noble heart.

Then, only then-(if Heav'n shall so ordain)
When honourable peace his sword shall gain;
A peace secur'd by terrour of our arms,
(Not mean conventions, or precarious charms)
When, dear to honour-to his country dear,
Restor'd her Vernon shall again appear:
As loud the peal of gratitude shall rise,
And universal joy ascend the skies:
As round his steps a thankful nation flows
To hail his toils, and bless him as he goes!
Then shall some happier bard, with nobler vein
Record his actions, and embalm his name!
"The honour paid to Vice in smoke decays,
But Virtue purifies the flames of praise:
From her chaste shrine she bids the incense rise,
Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies."

LOCH RIAN.

TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF STAIR,
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1734.

[Loch Rian is an arm of the sea which lies to the
north-east, a little below Castle Kennedy, the
seat of the earl of Stair. The Genius of this
bay is supposed to address that nobleman.]
FROM toils of state and an unfaithful court,
Welcome, my lord, to your domestic port!
Here, seated on my hospitable shore,
In safety hear the distant tempest roar.
While gentler cares your future hours demand,
And Nature waits your all-improving hand';

The improvements at Castle Kennedy are very

Thy native majesty attracts the heart,
And shows thy empire o'er the works of art:
So virtue shines in Cobham's steady mind,
And leaves the shadowy forms of pomp behind.
Here Art attends-and waits thy ruling will,
For she at best is but thy handmaid still;
If thou thy state imperial wouldst express,
She looks thy wardrobe, and puts on thy dress!
In the clear wave the crystal mirror holds,
Or rich with gems thy flow'ry robe unfolds:
If ornaments thou slight'st, and pomps displease,
She then retires, and leaves thee to thy ease:
Leaves thee to take thy ev'ning walk unseen,
O'er the sequester'd shade, or lonesome green;
Where meditation soothes thy thoughtful breast,;
And birds and waters lull thee to thy rest:
Where they who never knew thy charms, may know,
For all thy countless charms are seen at Stowe.

Two square pavilions opening to the scene,
First lead the Muse to the enchanted plain.
Whence to the north this Tempé we survey,
Its glories bright'ning to meridian day!
Hence spreads a liquid octagon to view,
And charms the eye with its unclouded blue;
Fall in the midst an obelisk ascends,
And high in air the wat'ry column sends:
Two distant rivers winding from the right
Descend-and in one spacious stream unite;
Which gently gliding through its verdant shores,
In the broad octagon its treasure pours.
High on a summit all below commands,
Fair Liberty, thy destin'd temple stauds;
Where, like some queen expell'd her lawful throne,
A refuge thou shalt find-thy value known,
And see lost realms-that once were all thy own.
Nor through an avenue, the growth of years,
The distant mansion to the eye appears;
Which, still transported as it turns around,
Beholds new charms diversify the ground:
Here num'rous herds that range th' adjacent plain,
There hills with bleating flocks adorn the scene:
Or flow'ry lawns, or shades of tufted trees,
Or waters quivering to the temper'd breeze.
Thus all combin'd the ravish'd fancy strike,
And leave it at a loss where most to like.
Directed hence along the carpet grass
By three fair statues to the left we pass,
Where through the Bath, descending, is convey'd
The Bason, falling from a broad cascade;
While through the ruin'd arch the waters break,
And form below a wide extended lake:
Whose distant borders sylvan scenes unfold,
Such as the huntress-goddess us'd of old:
When rash Acteon spy'd the heav'nly maid,
And with his forfeit life the folly paid.

Close by the lake our progress we pursu'd,
To the fair Hermitage conceal'd in wood,
Whence wide bencath, the blue expanse was seen
Reflecting from its wave the trembling green!
Thence through the windings of the artful shade,
Thy Temple, beauteous Venus, we survey'd;
Before, fit emblem of the lover's view,

Stand the first foes which Nature ever knew 1.
Fit emblem, goddess, of thy cruel power,
Which oft has bath'd the warring world in gore:
Has smil'd to set the dearest friends at strife,
And made the brother snatch the brother's life:

'The statues of Cain and Abel.

Yet mild at first thy savage yoke appears,
And like this scene a beauteous prospect wears:
For scenes like this thy fatal flame inspire,
Unnerve the soul, and kindle soft desire!
While amorous birds with music fill the grove,
And ev'ry breathing zephyr whispers love!
Within the dome see sportive Cupids play,
And clap their silver wings, and seem to say-
"Now let him love, who never felt the pain;
Before who lov'd-here let him love again "."
Hence through a wood with opening vistas grac'd,
(At each some rural termination plac'd)
The west pavilion to the eye succeeds,
Whence to the house the fair avenue leads;
Plac'd in the midst-and sacred to his fame,
Rises the pyramid with Vanbrugh's name.
Here, wondrous architect! repos'd, receive
The grateful honours Cobham loves to give ;
Here like his gardens shali thy mem'ry bloom,
Nor couldst thou wish a more distinguish'd tomb.
In the next dome, from vulgar thought conceal'd,
This wise inscription stands to sight reveal'd 3,
"Life is a feast-enjoy it while you may,
When age comes on, 'tis time to steal away,
Lest laughing youth remind thee of the rule,
Nothing so foolish as a doating fool."

Now by the wood, which rises to the right,
The opening field relieves the crowded sight,
Here great Alcides, firm in marble plac'd,
Holds the expiring son of Earth embrac'd 4:
Just image, Cobham, of thy victor toil,
Which tam'd the genius of the rugged soil;
Which gave the face of Nature pow'r to warm,
And soften'd every blemish in a charm.

Hence to th' Augustine Cave 5 our way we

sped,

A moss-grown cell, with grateful umbrage spread;
Such blameless hermits held in days of old,
Ere priestcraft grew, or Heav'n was priz'd for gold.
Plain is the scene, and well befits the heart
That never stain'd its innocence with art.

As the skill'd painter captivates the sight,
By nicely intermingling shade and light;
So in these happy scenes, each object plac'd,
Throws beauty round, and charms the finest taste;
So just the contrasts-and the point so true,
'Tis all that Nature, all that Art can do!
In sweet delusion is the fancy lost,
Nor knows attention where to settle most.
Thus from the cave through the receding green,
Thy temple, son of Semele, was seen:
Pictur'd within thy mystic rites advance,
And nymphs and satyrs round thy Thyrsus dance:
Such was the jovial triumph once thou led,
When India first ador'd thy mitred head.
When thy gay car submissive tigers drew,
And men the genial pow'r of Bacchus knew.
From hence disclos'd a beauteous prospect lies,
West as the setting Sun adorns the skies!
Where Aylesbury her golden vale extends,
And clos'd with purple hills the landscape ends.

But solemn scenes demand th' attentive Muse, Such as the Druids lov'd of old to choose:

2 From Catullus, Nunc amet, &c.

3 From Horace, Lusisti satis, &c.

4 The statues of Hercules and Anteus.

5 St. Augustine's cave.

For lo conspicuous stands the awful Grove,
Sacred to Woden and the Saxon Jove:
Around the central altar seem to stand,
The gods ador'd by Hengist's valiant band;
Life seems each breathing figure to inform,
A godlike freedom, and a noble scorn.
O glorious race! O nation dear to fame!
Eternal founders of the British name!
From whom exalted Albion grateful draws
Her long-establish'd rights-ber sacred laws;
Though in the gulf of wasting time were lost
Each ancient monument your name can boast,
Yet in this hallow'd shrine shall one remain,
While freedom lives to bless Britannia's plain.
As darts the Sun oblique his varied rays,
When through the fleecy cloud his lustre plays,
Here deepens to a gloom the varied green,
There beams a light-and shifts the shadowy scene:
But when the obvious vapour melts away,
The boundless prospect brightens into day.
So hitherto enchanted had we stray'd

Through light and shade, from charm to charm betray'd:

Now issuing from the covert, with surprise,
Th' unbounded landscape open'd to our eyes;
Whence south, its dome the fair Rotunda rears,
Plac'd to the east equestrian George appears 7;
Oppos'd, new walks o'erlook'd the forest lawn,
Where sport the peaceful deer and wanton fawn;
Full in the midst, enthron'd like beauty's queen,
Surrounded by her graces, Stowe is seen;
And in the crystal mirror plac'd below,
Beholds her ev'ry charm reflected glow;
Where snowy swans along the surface glide,
And rear their stately necks with graceful pride;
Wide from before a long succession spreads,
Of distant woods, green hills, and flow'ry meads.
O'er the free scene expatiates the sight,
And all the soul is lost in sweet delight.

8

Behind, disclos'd, the gay parterre is seen, With vases deck'd 9, and banks of living green; Here shelter'd all Hesperia's treasures bloom, And the bright orange sheds its rich perfume. While placid as they rise on ev'ry hand, In Cobham's smile the favour'd Muses stand; And Phoebus points to the celestial quire, The scenes that best the poet's flame inspire, And bids them here, expell'd their native Greece, Attune the lyre, and sing the sweets of peace.

Conducted hence, through the declining shade,
Thy statue, great Augustus 1°, rears its head;
A stately column's fair Corinthian height,
Bears with triumphant air the royal weight:
Which seems a smile majestic to bestow,
As pleas'd that Britain can produce a Stowe.
Now through the deep'ning wood's projected
gloom,

To Dido's Cave with devious step we come,
Where the dim twilight of the arch above
Seems to express the queen's disastrous love.
For semblant such of old the fatal bow'r,
Where Venus led her in ill-omen'd hour.

Where first her heart the sweet delusion found,
As yet unconscious of a future wound.
Next to the fair ascent our steps we trac'd,
Whence shines afar the bold Rotunda "plac'd;
The artful dome Ionic columns bear

Light as the fabric swells in ambient air,
Beneath unshrin'd the Tuscan Venus stands,
And beauty's queen the beauteous scene commands:
The fond beholder sees with sweet surprise,
Streams glitter, lawns appear, and forests rise-
Here through thick shades alternate buildings break,
There through its borders steals the silver lake;
A soft variety delights the soul,

And harmony resulting crowns the whole.
Now by the long canal we gently turn,
Whose verdant sides romantic scenes adorn ;
As objects through the broken ground we see,
And there a statue rises, there a tree.
Here in an amphitheatre of green,
With slopes set off which form a rural scene,
On four Ionic pillars rais'd to sight
Beams Carolina 2, Britain's late delight.
Here the bright queen her heav'nly form displays,
Eternal subject of the Muse's praise:
But faint all praise her merit to impart,
Whose mem'ry lives in every British heart.

Now leave we, devious, the declining plain,
Awhile to wander through the woodland scene:
Here where six cent'ring walks united meet,
Morpheus invites us to his still retreat 13;
And while the tide of life uncertain flows,
Bids you "indulge yourself, and taste repose."
But stop, my Muse-I feel a conscious fear,
As if conceal'd divinity was near.
What do I see! What solemn views arise!
What wonders open to my thoughtful eyes!
Midst purling streams in awful beauty drest,
The shrine of ancient Virtue stands confest;
A Doric pile, by studious Cobham plac'd,
To show the world the worth of ages past;
When innocence-when truth still found regard,
And cherish'd merit had its due reward.

Within, four grateful statues honour'd stand, Inspire attention, and esteem command; Epaminondas first in arms renown'd, Whose glorious ain his country's freedom crown'd, Born in each social virtue to excel, With whom the Theban glory rose, and fell. Lycurgus next, in steady virtue great, Who for duration form'd the Spartan state; And Wealth expelling, with her baneful train, Left a republic worth the name of men. There Socrates, th' Athenian wise and good, With more than mortal sanctity endu'd: Who freed philosophy from useless art,