But drugs would raise the dead as soon,
Or clattering brass relieve the Moon,

When fainting in the sky.

"Some friendly spirit from above,
Born of the Light and nurst with Love,
Assist our feebler fires:

Force these invading glooms away;
Souls should be seen quite through their clay,
Bright as your heavenly choirs.

"But if the fogs must damp the flame,
Gently, kind Death, dissolve our frame,
Release the prisoner-mind:

Our souls shall mount, at thy discharge,
To their bright source, and shine at large,
Nor clouded, nor confin'd."

"Forbid it, Heaven, and raise my love,
And make our joys the same;
So bliss and friendship join'd above
Mix an immortal flame.
"Sorrows are lost in vast delight
That brightens all the soul,
As deluges of dawning light
O'erwhelm the dusky pole.
"Pleasures in long succession reign,
And all my powers employ :
Friendship but shifts the pleasing scene,
And fresh repeats the joy.

“Life has a soft and silver thread,

Nor is it drawn too long;

Yet, when my vaster hopes persuade,
I'm willing to be gone.

"Fast as ye please roll down the hill, And haste away, my years;

Or I can wait my Father's will, And dwell beneath the spheres. "Rise glorious, every future sun,

Gild all my following days,

But make the last dear moment known By well-distinguish'd rays."

Your sorrows swell my heart so high,
They leave my own no room.

Sickness and pains are quite forgot,
The spleen itself is gone;

Plung'd in your woes I feel them not,

Or feel them all in one.

Infinite grief puts sense to flight,
And all the soul invades :

So the broad gloom of spreading night
Devours the evening shades.
Thus am I born to be unblest!
This sympathy of woe
Drives my own tyrants from my breast
T admit a foreign foe.
Sorrows in long succession reign;
Their iron rod I feel:
Friendship has only chang'd the chain,
But I'm the pris'ner still.
Why was this life for misery made?
Or why drawn out so long?
Is there no room amongst the dead?
Or is a wretch too young?

Move faster on, great Nature's wheel,
Be kind, ye rolling powers,
Hurl my days headlong down the hill
With undistinguish'd hours.
Be dusky, all my rising suns,

Nor smile upon a slave:

Darkness, and Death, make haste at once To hide me in the grave.

ΤΟ

THE RIGHT HON, JOHN LORD CUTTS,
At the Siege of Namur.
THE HARDY SOLDIER.

"O WHY is man so thoughtless grown?
Why guilty souls in haste to die?
Venturing the leap to worlds unknown,
Heedless to arms and blood they fly.
"Are lives but worth a soldier's pay?
Why will ye join such wide extremes,
And stake immortal souls, in play
At desperate chance and bloody games?
"Valour's a nobler turn of thought,
Whose pardon'd guilt forbids her fears:
Calmly she meets the deadly shot,
Secure of life above the stars.
"But Phrensy dares eternal Fate,
And, spurr'd with Honour's airy dreams,
Flies to attack th' infernal gate,
And force a passage to the flames."
Thus hovering o'er Namuria's plains,
Sung heavenly Love in Gabriel's form:
Young Thraso left the moving strains,
And vow'd to pray before the storm.

Anon the thundering trumpet calls;
"Vows are but wind," the Hero cries;
Then swears by Heaven, and scales the walls,
Drops in the ditch, despairs, and dies.

[flight,

In vain the flatteries of their wit Now with a melting strain, now with an heavenly Would tempt my virtue to approve Those gaudy tinders of a lawless love.

So harlots dress :-they can appear
Sweet, modest, cool, divinely fair,
To charm a Cato's eye; but all within,
Stench, impudence, and fire, and ugly raging sin.

Die, Flora, die in endless shame,
Thou prostitute of blackest fame,
Stript of thy false array.
Ovid, and all ye wilder pens

Of modern lust, who gild our scenes,
Poison the British stage, and paint damnation gay,
Attend your mistress to the dead; [shade.
When Flora dies, her imps should wait upon her
Strephon 3, of noble blood and mind,
(For ever shine his name!)

As Death approach'd, his soul refin'd, And gave his looser sonnets to the flame.

Burn, burn," he cried with sacred rage, "Hell is the due of every page,

Hell be the fate. (But, O indulgent Heaven!
So vile the Muse, and yet the man forgiven!)
Burn on my songs: for not the silver Thames,
Nor Tyber with his yellow streams,

In endless currents rolling to the main,

Can e'er dilute the poison, or wash out the stain."

So Moses by divine command
Forbid the leprous house to stand
When deep the fatal spot was grown:

Break down the timber, and dig up the stone."

TO MRS. B. BENDISH. AGAINST TEARS.

MADAM, persuade me tears are good
To wash our mortal cares away,
These eyes shall weep a sudden flood,
And stream into a briny sea.

Or if these orbs are hard and dry,
(These orbs that never use to rain)
Some star direct me where to buy
One sovereign drop for all my pain.
Were both the golden Indies mine,
I'd give both Indies for a tear:
I'd barter all but what's divine:
Nor shall I think the bargain dear.
But tears, alas! are trifling things,
They rather feed than heal our woe;
From trickling eyes new sorrow springs,
As weeds in rainy seasons grow.

Thus weeping urges weeping on;
In vain our miseries hope relief,
For one drop calls another down,
Till we are drown'd in seas of grief.
Then let these useless streams be staid,
Wear native courage on your face:
These vulgar things were never made
For souls of a superiour race.

Earl of Rochester.

1699.

If 'tis a rugged path you go,
And thousand foes your steps surround,
Tread the thorns down, charge through the foe;
The hardest fight is highest crown'd.

FEW HAPPY MATCHES.

Aug. 1701.

SAY, mighty Love, and teach my song,
To whom thy sweetest joys belong,
And who the happy pairs
Find blessings twisted with their bands,
Whose yielding hearts, and joining hands,

To soften all their cares.

Not the wild herd of nymphs and swains
That thoughtless fly into thy chains,
As custom leads the way:

If there be bliss without design,
Ivies and oaks may grow and twine,
And be as blest as they.

Not sordid souls of earthly mould,
Who drawn by kindred charms of gold
To dull embraces move:

So two rich mountains of Peru
May rush to wealthy marriage too,
And make a world of love.

Not the mad tribe that Hell inspires
With wanton flames; those raging fires
The purer bliss destroy:
On Etna's top let Furies wed,
And sheets of lightning dress the bed

T improve the burning joy,

Nor the dull pairs whose marble forms
None of the melting passions warms,

Can mingle hearts and hands:
Logs of green wood that quench the coals
Are married just like Stoic souls,

With osiers for their bands.

Not minds of melancholy strain,
Still silent, or that still complain,
Can the dear bondage ble. :
As well may heavenly concerts spring
From two old lutes with ne'er a string,
Or none besides the bass.

Nor can the soft enchantments hold
Two jarring souls of angry mould,
The rugged and the keen:
Samson's young foxes might as well
In bonds of cheerful wedlock dwell,
With firebrands tied between.
Nor let the cruel fetters bind
A gentle to a savage mind;

For love abhors the sight:
Loose the fierce tiger from the deer,
For native rage and native fear
Rise and forbid delight.

Two kindest souls alone must meet,
'Tis friendship makes the bondage sweet,
And feeds their mutual loves:
Bright Vemus on her rolling throne
Is drawn by gentlest birds alone,
And Cupids yoke the doves,

ΤΟ

DAVID POLHILL, ESQ.

AN EPISTLE.

LET useless souls to woods retreat; Polhill should leave a country seat When Virtue bids him dare be great.

Nor Kent 4, nor Susesx 4, should have charms,
While Liberty, with loud alarms,
Calls you to counsels and to arms.
Lewis, by fawning slaves ador'd,
Bids you receive a base-born lord 5;
Awake your cares! awake your sword!
Factions amongst the Britons rise,
And warring tongues, and wild surmise,
And burning Zeal without her eyes.
A vote decides the blind debate;
Resolv'd," 'tis of diviner weight
To save the steeple than the state."

The bold machine 7 is form'd and join'd
To stretch the conscience, and to bind
The native freedom of the mind.
Your grandsire shades with jealous eye
Frown down to see their offspring lie
Careless, and let their country die.
If Trevia fear to let you stand
Against the Gaul with spear in hand,
At least petition 9 for the land.

THE CELEBRATED VICTORY OF THE

POLES

OVER OSMAN THE TURKISH EMPEROR IN THE DACIAN

BATTLE.

Translated from Casimire, B. iv. Od. 4. with large Additions.

GADOR the old, the wealthy, and the strong,
Cheerful in years (nor of the heroic Muse
Unknowing, nor unknown) held fair possessions
Where flows the fruitful Danube. Seventy springs
Smil'd on his seed, and seventy harvest-moons
Fill'd his wide granaries with autumnal joy:
Still he resum'd the toil: and Fame reports,
While he broke up new ground, and tir'd his
plough

In grassy furrows, the torn earth disclos'd
Helmets, and swords, (bright furniture of war
Sleeping in rust) and heaps of mighty bones.
The Sun descending to the western deep
Bid him lie down and rest; he loos'd the yoke,
Yet beld his wearied oxen from their food
With charming numbers, and uncommon song.

His country seat and dwelling.

The Pretender, proclaimed king in France.
The parliament.

7 The bill against occasional conformity, 1702. Mrs. Polhill, of the family of lord Trevor.

Mr. Polhill was one of those five zealous gentlemen who presented the famous Kentish petition to the parliament, in the reign of king William, to hasten their supplies in order to support the king in his war with France.

Led on to conquest: here the Turkish chief
Presumptuous trod, and in rude order rang'd
His long battalions, while his populous towns
Pour'd out fresh troops perpetual, drest in arms,
Horrent in mail, and gay in spangled pride.

"O the dire image of the bloody fight These eyes have seen, when the capacious plain Was throng'd with Dacian spears; when polish'd

helms

And convex gold blaz'd thick against the Sun
Restoring all his beams! but frowning War
All gloomy, like a gather'd tempest, stood
Wavering, and doubtful where to bend its fall.

"The storm of missive steel delay'd a while
By wise command; fledg'd arrows on the nerve;
And scymitar and sabre bore the sheath
Reluctant; till the hollow brazen clouds
Had bellow'd from each quarter of the field
Loud thunder, and disgorg'd their sulphurous fire.
Then banners wav'd, and arms were mix'd with

arms;

Then javelins answer'd javelins as they fled,
For both filed hissing death: with adverse edge
The crooked faulchions met; and hideous noise
From clashing shields, through the long ranks of
Clang'd horrible. A thousand iron storms [war,
Roar diverse: and in harsh confusion drown
The trumpet's silver sound. O rude effort
Of harmony! not all the frozen stores
of the cold North, when pour'd in rattling hail,
Lash with such madness the Norwegian plains,
Or so torment the ear. Scarce sounds so far
Tears from the Alps a ridge of knotty oaks
The direful fragor, when some southern blast
Deep fang'd, and ancient tenants of the rock:
The massy fragment, many a rood in length,
With hideous crash, rolls down the rugged cliff
Resistless, plunging in the subject lake
Como, or Lugaine; th' aicted waters roar,
And various thunder all the valley fills-
Such was the noise of war: the troubled air
Complains aloud, and propagates the din
To neighbouring regions; rocks and lofty hills
Beat the impetuous echoes round the sky.

"Uproar, Revenge, and Rage, and Hate, appear In all their murderous forms; and flame and blood

And sweat and dust array the broad campaign
In horrour: hasty feet, and sparkling eyes,
And all the savage passions of the soul,
Engage in the warm business of the day.
Here mingling hands, but with no friendly gripes

Join in the fight; and breasts in close embrace,
But mortal as the iron arms of Death.
Here words austere, of perilous command,
And valour swift t' obey; bold feats of arms
[ness
Dreadful to see, and glorious to relate,
Shine through the field with more surprising bright-
Than glittering helms or spears.
What loud ap-
plause

(Best meed of warlike toil), what manly shouts, And yells unmanly through the battle ring! And sudden wrath dies into endless fame.

"Long did the fate of war hang dubious. Here Stood the more numerous Turk, the valiant Pole Fought here; more dreadful, though with lesser wings.

"But what the Dahets or the coward soul Of a Cydonian, what the fearful crowds Of base Cilicians 'scaping from the slaughter, Of Parthian beasts, with all their racing riders, What could they mean against th' intrepid breast Of the pursuing foe? Th' impetuous Poles Rush here, and here the Lithuanian horse Drive down upon them like a double bolt Of kindled thunder raging through the sky On sounding wheels; or as some mighty flood Rolls his two torrents down a dreadful steep. Precipitant, and bears along the stream Rocks, woods, and trees, with all the grazing herd, And tumbles lofty forests headlong to the plain.

"The bold Borussian smoking from afar Moves like a tempest in a dusky cloud, And imitates th' artillery of Heaven, The lightning and the roar. Amazing scene! What showers of mortal hail, what flaky fires Burst from the darkness! while their cohorts firm Met the like thunder, and an equal storm, From hostile troops, but with a braver mind. Undaunted bosoms tempt the edge of war, And rush on the sharp point; while baleful mischiefs,

I stood

[moons

Deaths and bright dangers flew across the field
Thick and continual, and a thousand souls [aloof,
Fled murmuring through their wounds.
For 'twas unsafe to come within the wind
Of Russian banners, when with whizzing sound,
Eager of glory, and profuse of life,
They bore down fearless on the charging foes,
And drove them backward. Then the Turkish
Wander'd in disarray. A dark eclipse
Hung on the silver crescent, boding night,
Long night, to all her sons: at length disrob'd
The standards fell: the barbarous ensigns torn
Fled with the wind, the sport of angry Heaven:
And a large cloud of infantry and horse
Scattering in wild disorder, spread the plain.
"Not noise, nor number, nor the brawny limb,
Nor high-built size prevails: 'tis courage fights,
'Tis courage conquers. So whole forests fall
(A spacious ruin) by one single axe,
And steel well sharpened: so a generous pair
Of young-wing'd eaglets fright a thousand doves.
"Vast was the slaughter, and the flowery green
Drank deep of flowing crimson. Veteran bands
Here made their last campaign. Here haughty
Stretch'd on the bed of purple honour lie [chiefs
Supine, nor dream of battle's hard event,
Oppress'd with iron slumbers, and long night.
Their ghosts indignant to the nether world
Fled, but attended well: for at their side

Some faithful janizaries strew'd the field,
Fall'n in just ranks or wedges, lunes or squares,
Firm as they stood; to the Warsovian troops,
A nobler toil, and triumph worth their fight.
But the broad sabre and keen poll-axe flew
With speedy terrour through the feebler herd,
And made rude havoc and irregular spoil
Amongst the vulgar bands that own'd the name
Of Mahomet. The wild Arabians fled
In swift affright a thousand different ways
Through brakes and thorns, and climb'd the

craggy mountains

Bellowing; yet hasty Fate o'ertook the cry,
And Polish hunters clave the timorous deer.
"Thus the dire prospect distant fill'd my soul
With awe; till the last relics of the war,
The thin Edonians, flying, had disclos'd
The ghastly plain: I took a nearer view,
Unseemly to the sight, nor to the smell
Grateful. What loads of mangled flesh and limbs
(A dismal carnage!) bath'd in reeking gore
Lay weltering on the ground; while flitting life
Convuls'd the nerves still shivering, nor had lost
All taste of pain! Here an old Thracian lies,
Deform'd with years and scars, and groans aloud,
Torn with fresh wounds; but inward vitals firm
Forbid the soul's remove, and chain it down
By the hard laws of Nature to sustain

Long torment: his wild eye-balls roll: his teeth,
Gnashing with anguish, chide his lingering fate.
Emblazon'd arı r spoke his high command
Amongst the n ouring dead; they round their
Lay prostrate; in flight ignobly slain, [lord
Some to the skies beir faces upwards turn'd,
Still brave, and proud to die so near their prince.

"I mov'd not far, and lo, at manly length Two beauteous youths of richest Ott'man blood Extended on the field: in friendship join'd, Nor fate divides them: hardy warriors both, Both faithful; drown'd in showers of darts they fell,

Each with his shield spread o'er his lover's heart,
In vain: for on those orbs of friendly brass
Stood groves of javelins; some, alas! too deep
Were planted there, and through their lovely bo-
Made painful avenues for cruel Death.
O my dear native land, forgive the tear

[soms [sion

I dropt on their wan cheeks, when strong compas-
Fore'd from my melting eyes the briny dew,
And paid a sacrifice to hostile virtue.
Dacia, forgive the sight that wish'd the souls
Of those fair infidels some humble place
Among the blest. "Sleep, sleep, ye hapless pair,
Gently," I cried, "worthy of better fate,
And better faith." Hard by the general lay,
Of Saracen descent, a grisly form
Breathless, yet Pride sat pale upon his front
In disappointment, with a surly brow
Louring in death, and vext; his rigid jaws
Foaming with blood bite hard the Polish spear:
In that dead visage my remembrance reads
Rash Caraccas. In vain the boasting slave
Promis'd and sooth'd the sultan threatening fierce
With royal suppers and triumphant fare
Spread wide beneath Warsovian silk and gold;
See on the naked ground all cold he lies
Beneath the damp wide covering of the air
Forgetful of his word. How Heaven confounds
Insulting hopes! with what an awful smile
Laughs at the proud, that loosen all the reins

To their unbounded wishes, and leads on
Their blind ambition to a shameful end!

"But whither am I borne? This thought of arms
Fires me in vain to sing to senseless bulls [song;
What generous horse should hear. Break off, my
My barbarous Muse, be still: immortal deeds
Must not be thus profan'd in rustic verse:
The martial trumpet, and the following age,
And growing Fame, shall loud rehearse the fight
In sounds of glory. Lo the evening star
Shines o'er the western hill; my oxen, come,
The well-known star invites the labourer home."

THE following song was yours when first composed. The Muse then described the general fate of mankind, that is, to be ill matched; and now she rejoices that you have escaped the common mischief, and that your soul has found its own mate. Let this ode then congratulate you both. Grow mutually in more complete likeness and love: persevere, and be happy.

I persuade myself you will accept from the press what the pen more privately inscribed to you long ago; and I am in no pain lest you should take offence at the fabulous dress of this poem: nor would weaker minds be scandalised at it, if they would give themselves leave to reflect how many divine truths are spoken by the holy writers in visions and images, parables and dreams: nor are my wiser friends ashamed to defend it, since the narrative is grave and the moral so just and obvious.

THE INDIAN PHILOSOPHER.

Sept. 3, 1701.

WHY should our joys transform to pain?
Why gentle Hymen's silken chain

A plague of iron prove?

Bendish, 'tis strange the charm that binds
Millions of hands, should leave their minds
At such a loose from love.

In vain I sought the wondrous cause,
Rang'd the wide fields of Nature's laws,
And urg'd the schools in vain;
Then deep in thought, within my breast
My soul retir'd, and slumber dress'd
A bright instructive scene.
O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide,
On Fancy's airy horse I ride,

(Sweet rapture of my mind!)

Till on the banks of Ganges' flood,
In a tall ancient grove I stood,
For sacred use design'd.

Hard by, a venerable priest,

Risen with his god, the Sun, from rest,
Awoke his morning song;

Thrice he conjur'd the murmuring stream;
The birth of souls was all his theme,
And half-divine his tongue.

He sang "th' eternal rolling flame,
The vital mass, that still the same

Does all our minds compose;
But shap'd in twice ten thousand frames;
Thence differing souls of differing names,

And jarring tempers rose.

"The mighty power that form'd the mind One mould for every two design'd,

And bless'd the new-born pair:
This be a match for this: (he said)
Then down he sent the souls he made.
To seek them bodies here:
"But parting from their warm abode,
They lost their fellows on the road,

And never join'd their hands:
Ah cruel chance, and crossing fates!
Our Eastern souls have dropt their mates
On Europe's barbarous lands.

(C Happy the youth that finds the bride Whose birth is to his own allied,

The sweetest joy of life:

But oh the crowds of wretched souls
Fetter'd to minds of different moulds,

And chain'd t' eternal strife!"
Thus sang the wondrous Indian bard;
My soul with vast attention heard,

While Ganges ceas'd to flow:
"Sure then (I cried) might I but see
That gentle nymph that twinn'd with me,
I may be happy too.

"Some courteous angel, tell me where,
What distant lands this unknown fair

Or distant seas detain?
Swift as the wheel of Nature rolls
I'd fly, to meet, and mingle souls,
And wear the joyful chain."