And pouring on the heart, the passions feel
At once informing light and moving flame;
Till moral, public, graceful action crowns
The whole. Behold! the fair contention glows,
In all that mind or body can adorn,

And form to life. Instead of barren heads,
Barbarian pedants, wrangling sons of pride,
And truth-perplexing metaphysic wits,
Men, patriots, chiefs, and citizens are form'd.

'Lo! Justice, like the liberal light of Heaven, Unpurchased shines on all; and from her beam, Appalling guilt, retire the savage crew,

That prowl amid the darkness they themselves Have thrown around the laws. Oppression grieves, See! how her legal furies bite the lip,

While Yorkes and Talbots their deep snares detect, And seize swift justice through the clouds they raise.

'See! social Labour lifts his guarded head, And men not yield to government in vain. From the sure land is rooted ruffian force, And, the lewd nurse of villains, idle waste; Lo! raised their haunts, down dash'd their maddening bowl,

A nation's poison! beauteous order reigns!
Manly submission, unimposing toil,
Trade without guile, civility that marks
From the foul herd of brutal slaves thy sons,
And fearless peace. Or should affronting war
To slow but dreadful vengeance rouse the just,
Unfailing fields of freemen I behold!

That know, with their own proper arm, to guard
Their own bless'd isle against a leaguing world.
Despairing Gaul her boiling youth restrains,
Dissolved her dream of universal sway;
The winds and seas are Britain's wide domain;
And not a sail, but by permission, spreads.

'Lo! swarming southward on rejoicing suns,
Gay colonies extend; the calm retreat
Of undeserved distress, the better home
Of those whom bigots chase from foreign lands.
Nor built on rapine, servitude, and wo,
And in their turn some petty tyrant's prey;
But, bound by social Freedom, firm they rise;
Such as, of late, an Oglethorpe has form'd,
And, crowding round, the charm'd Savannah sees.

'Horrid with want and misery no more
Our streets the tender passenger afflict.
Nor shivering age, nor sickness without friend,
Or home, or bed to bear his burning load;
Nor agonizing infant, that ne'er earn'd
Its guiltless pangs; I see! the stores, profuse,
Which British bounty has to these assign'd,
No more the sacrilegious riot swell
Of cannibal devourers! right applied,

No starving wretch the land of freedom stains:
If poor, employment finds; if old, demands,
if sick, if maim'd, his miserable due;

And will, if young, repay the fondest care.

Sweet sets the sun of stormy life; and sweet
The morning shines, in Mercy's dews array'd.
Lo! how they rise! these families of Heaven!
That! chief, (but why-ye bigots!—why so late?)
Where blooms and warbles glad a rising age;
What smiles of praise! and, while their song as-
cends,

The listening seraph lays his lute aside.

'Hark! the gay muses raise a nobler strain, With active nature, warm impassion'd truth, Engaging fable, lucid order, notes

Of various string, and heart-felt image fill'd.
Behold! I see the dread delightful school
Of temper'd passions, and of polish'd life,
Restored: behold! the well dissembled scene
Calls from embellish'd eyes the lovely tear,
Or lights up mirth in modest cheeks again.
Lo! vanish'd monster land. Lo! driven away
Those that Apollo's sacred walks profane:
Their wild creation scatter'd, where a world
Unknown to nature, Chaos more confused,
O'er the brute scene its Ouran-Outangs pours;†
Detested forms! that, on the mind impress'd,
Corrupt, confound, and barbarize an age.

'Behold! all thine again the Sister-Arts,
Thy graces they, knit in harmonious dance,
Nursed by the treasure from a nation drain'd
Their works to purchase, they to nobler rouse
Their untamed genius, their unfetter'd thought;
Of pompous tyrants, and of dreaming monks,
The gaudy tools, and prisoners no more.

'Lo! numerous domes a Burlington confess: For kings and senates fit, the palace see! The temple breathing a religious awe; E'en framed with elegance the plain retreat, The private dwelling. Certain in his aim, Taste, never idly working, saves expense.

'See! silvan scenes, where Art alone pretends To dress her mistress, and disclose her charms: Such as a Pope in miniature has shown; A Bathurst o'er the widening forests spreads; And such as form a Richmond, Chiswick, Stowe 'August, around, what public works I see! Lo! stately streets, lo! squares that court the breeze,

In spite of those to whom pertains the care,
Ingulfing more than founded Roman ways,
Lo! ray'd from cities o'er the brighten❜d land,
Connecting sea to sea, the solid road.

Lo! the proud arch (no vile exactor's stand)
With easy sweep bestrides the chasing flood.
See! long canals, and deepen'd rivers join
Each part with each, and with the circling main

Hark! how the baffled storm indignant roars.

As thick to view these varied wonders rose, Shook all my soul with transport, unassured, The Vision broke; and, on my waking eye, Rush'd the still ruins of dejected Rome.

TO THE MEMORY OF THE RIGHT HON. LORD TALBOT, LATE CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN.

ADDRESSED TO HIS SON.

WHILE with the public, you, my Lord, lament
A friend and father lost; permit the Muse,
The Muse assign'd of old a double theme,
To praise dead worth, and humble living pride,
Whose generous task begins where interest ends;
Permit her on a Talbot's tomb to lay
This cordial verse sincere, by truth inspired,
Which means not to bestow but borrow fame.
Yes, she may sing his matchless virtues now-
Unhappy that she may.-But where begin?
How from the diamond single out each ray,
Where all, though trembling with ten thousand
hues,

Effuse one dazzling undivided light?

Let the low-minded of these narrow days No more presume to deem the lofty tale Of ancient times, in pity to their own, Romance. In Talbot we united saw The piercing eye, the quick enlighten'd soul, The graceful ease, the flowing tongue of Greece, Join'd to the virtues and the force of Rome. Eternal Wisdom, that all-quickening sun, Whence every life, in just proportion, draws Directing light and actuating flame, Ne'er with a larger portion of its beams Awaken'd mortal clay. Hence steady, calm, Diffusive, deep, and clear, his reason saw, With instantaneous view, the truth of things; Chief what to human life and human bliss Pertains, that noblest science, fit for man: And hence, responsive to his knowledge, glow'd His ardent virtue. Ignorance and vice, In consort foul, agree; each heightening each; While virtue draws from knowledge brighter fire. What grand, what comely, or what tender

sense,

What talent, or what virtue was not his; What that can render man or great, or good, Give useful worth, or amiable grace?

Nor could he brook in studious shade to lie,
In soft retirement, indolently pleased
With selfish peace. The Syren of the wise,
(Who steals the Aonian song, and, in the shape
Of Virtue, woos them from a worthless world)
Though deep he felt her charms, could never melt
His strenuous spirit, recollected, calm,
As silent night, yet active as the day.
The more the bold, the bustling, and the bad,
Press to usurp the reigns of power, the more,
Behoves it virtue, with indignant zeal,
To check their combination. Shall low views
Of sneaking interest or luxurious vice,
The villain's passions, quicken more to toil,
And dart a livelier vigour through the soul,
Than those that mingled with our truest good,
With present honour and immortal fame,
Involve the good of all? An empty form
Is the weak Virtue, that amid the shade
Lamenting lies, with future schemes amused,
While Wickedness and Folly, kindred powers,
Confound the world. A Talbot's, different far,
Sprung ardent into action: action, that disdain'd
To lose in deathlike sloth one pulse of life,
That might be saved; disdain'd for coward ease,
And her insipid pleasures, to resign

The prize of glory, the keen sweets of toil,
And those high joys that teach the truly great
To live for others, and for others die.

Early, behold! he breaks benign on life.
Not breathing more beneficence, the spring
Leads in her swelling train the gentle airs:
While gay, behind her, smiles the kindling waste
Of ruffian storms and Winter's lawless rage.
In him Astrea, to this dim abode

Of ever wandering men, return'd again:
To bless them his delight, to bring them back
From thorny error, from unjoyous wrong
Into the paths of kind primeval faith,
Of happiness and justice. All his parts,
His virtues all, collected, sought the good
Of humankind. For that he, fervent, felt
The throb of patriots, when they model states
Anxious for that, nor needful sleep could hold
His still-awaken'd soul; nor friends had charms

To steal, with pleasing guile, one useful hour;
Toil knew no languor, no attraction joy.
Thus with unwearied steps, by Virtue led,
He gain'd the summit of that sacred hill,
Where, raised above black Envy's darkening
clouds,

Her spotless temple lifts its radiant front.
Be named, victorious ravages, no more!
Vanish, ye human comets! shrink your blaze!
Ye that your glory to your terrors owe,
As, o'er the gazing desolated earth,
You scatter famine, pestilence, and war;
Vanish! before this vernal sun of fame;
Effulgent sweetness! beaming life and joy.
How the heart listen'd while he, pleading,
spoke!

While on the enlighten'd mind, with winning art,
His gentle reason so persuasive stole,
That the charm'd hearer thought it was his own.
Ah! when, ye studious of the laws, again
Shall such enchanting lessons bless your ear?
When shall again the darkest truths, perplex'd,
Be set in ample day? when shall the harsh
And arduous open into smiling ease?
The solid mix with elegant delight?
His was the talent with the purest light
At once to pour conviction on the soul,

And warm with lawful flame, the impassion'd

heart.

That dangerous gift with him was safely lodged
By Heaven-He, sacred to his country's cause,
To trampled want and worth, to suffering right,
To the lone widow's and her orphan's woes,
Reserved the mighty charm. With equal brow,
Despising then the smiles or frowns of power,
He all that noblest eloquence effused,
Which generous passion, taught by reason,
breathes:

Then spoke the man; and, over barren art,
Prevail'd abundant nature. Freedom then
His client was, humanity and truth.

Placed on the seat of justice, there he reign'd,
In a superior sphere of cloudless day,
A pure intelligence. No tumult there,

No dark emotion, no intemperate heat,

No passion e'er disturb'd the clear serene

Enlighten'd Freedom, plann'd salubrious laws,
His various learning, his wide knowledge, then,
His insight deep into Britannia's weal,
Spontaneous seem'd from simple sense to flow,
And the plain patriot smooth'd the brow of law
No specious swell, no frothy pomp of words
Fell on the cheated ear; no studied maze
Of declaration, to perplex the right,
He darkening threw around: safe in itself,
In its own force, all powerful Reason spoke;
While on the great the ruling point, at once,
He stream'd decisive day, and show'd it vain
To lengthen further out the clear debate.
Conviction breathes conviction; to the heart,
Pour'd ardent forth in eloquence unbid,
The heart attends: for let the venal try
Their every hardening stupifying art,
Truth must prevail, zeal will enkindle zeal,
And Nature, skilful touch'd, is honest still.

Behold him in the councils of his prince. What faithful light he lends! How rare, in courts,

Such wisdom! such abilities! and join'd
To virtue so determined, public zeal,
And honour of such adamantine proof,
As e'en corruption, hopeless, and o'eraw'd,
Durst not have tempted! yet of manners mild,
And winning every heart, he knew to please,
Nobly to please; while equally he scorn'd
Or adulation to receive, or give.
Happy the state, where wakes a ruling eye
Of such inspection keen, and general care!
Beneath a guard so vigilant, so pure,
Toil may resign his careless head to rest,
And ever jealous freedom sleep in peace.
Ah! lost untimely! lost in downward days!
And many a patriot-counsel with him lost!
Counsels, that might have humbled Britain's foe,
Her native foe, from eldest time by fate
Appointed, as did once a Talbot's arms.

Let learning, arts, let universal worth,
Lament a patron lost, a friend and judge,
Unlike the sons of vanity, that veil'd
Beneath the patron's prostituted name,
Dare sacrifice a worthy man to pride,
And flush confusion o'er an honest cheek.

The love of justice, like the steady sun,

Its equal ardour lent; and sometimes raised
Against the sons of violence, of pride,
And bold deceit, his indignation gleam'd,
Yet still by sober dignity restrain'd.

As intuition quick, he snatched the truth,
Yet with progressive patience, step by step,
Self-diffident, or to the slower kind,

He through the maze of falsehood traced it on,
Till, at the last, evolved, it full appear'd,
And e'en the loser own'd the just decree.
but when, in senates, he, to freedom firm,
Κ

Which he to merit, to the public, paid,

And to the great all-bounteous Source of good!
His sympathizing heart itself received
The generous obligation he bestow'd.
This, this indeed, is patronizing worth.
Their kind protector him the Muses own,
But scorn with noble pride the boasted air
Of tasteless vanity's insulting hand.
The gracious stream, that cheers the letter'd world
Is not the noisy gift of summer's noon,
Whose sudden current, from the naked root,
Washes the little soil which yet remain'd.