But we moft happy, who can fear no force
But winged troops, or Pegafean horse:
"Tis not fo hard for greedy foes to spoil
Another nation, as to touch our foil.
Should nature's felf invade the world again,
And o'er the centre fpread the liquid main,
Thy pow'r were fafe; and her deftructive hand
Wou'd but enlarge the bounds of thy command
Thy dreadful fleet would ftyle thee Lord of all,
And ride in triumph o'er the drowned ball:
Those tow'rs of oak o'er fertile plains might go,
And vifit mountains where they once did grow.
The world's reftorer once could not endure,
That finifh'd Babel fhould thofe men fecure,
Whose pride defign'd that fabric to have stood
Above the reach of any fecond flood.
To thee his chofen more indulgent, he
Dares truft fuch power with fo much piety.
On the INVENTION of LETTERS
ELL me what genius did the art invent,
The lively image of the voice to paint;
Who firft the fecret how to colour found,
And to give fhape to reafon, wifely found;
With bodies how to cloath ideas, taught;
And how to draw the picture of a thought:
Who taught the hand to speak, the eye to hear
A filent language roving far and near;
Whose softeft noife out-ftrips loud thunder's found,
And fpreads her accents through the world's vaft round:
A voice heard by the deaf, fpoke by the dumb,
Whofe echo reaches long, long time to come;
Which dead men fpeak as well as thofe alive-
Tell me what genius did this art contrive?
The ANSWER.
Torpainting words, and fpeaking to the eyes s
HE noble to Cadmus owes its rife,
He first in wond'rous magic fetters bound
The airy voice, and ftop'd the flying found:
The various figures by his pencil wrought,
Gave colour, form, and body to the thought.
The ENTHUSIAST; or the LOVER of NATURE.
YE green-rob'd Dryads, oft' at dusky eve
By wondering fhepherds feen, to forefts brown,
To unfrequented meads, and pathlefs wilds,
Lead me from gardens deck'd with art's vain pomps.
Can gilt alcoves, can marble-mimick gods,
Parterres embroider'd, obelisks, and urns
Of high relief: can the long, fpreading lake,
Or vifta leffening to the fight; can Stow
With all her Attick fanes, fuch raptures raife,
As the thrufh-haunted copfe, where lightly leaps
The fearful fawn the ruftling leaves along,
And the brifk fquirrel fports from bough to bough,
While from an hollow oak, whofe naked roots
O'erhang a penfive rill, the bufy bees
Hum drowsy lullabies? The bards of old,
Fair Nature's friends, fought fuch retreats, to charm
Sweet Echo with their fongs; oft' too they met
In fummer evenings, near fequefter'd bow'rs,
Or mountain-nymph, or mufe, and eager learn'd
The moral ftrains the taught to mend mankind.
As to a fecret grot Ægeria ftole
With patriot Numa, and in filent night
Whisper'd him facred laws, he lift'ning fat
Rapt with her virtuous voice, old Tyber lean'd
Attentive on his urn, and hufh'd his waves.
Rich in her weeping country's fpoils Versailles
May boaft a thoufand fountains, that can caft
The tortur'd waters to the diftant heav'ns;
Yet let me choose fome pine-top'd precipice
Abrupt and fhaggy, whence a foamy stream,
Like Anio, tumbling roars; or fome bleak heath,
Where ftraggling ftand the mournful juniper,
Or yew-tree fcath'd; while in clear profpect round,
From the grove's bofom fpires emerge, and smoak
In bluish wreaths afcends, ripe harvefts wave,
Low, lonely cottages, and ruin'd tops
Of Gothic battlements appear, and streams
Beneath the fun-beams twinkle.-The fhrill lark,
That wakes the wood-man to his early task,
Or love-fick Philomel, whofe luscious lays
Soothe lone night-wanderers, the moaning dove
Pitied by liftening milk-maid, far excel
The deep-mouth viol, the foul-lulling lute,
And battle-breathing trumpet. Artful founds!
That please not like the chorifters of air,
When firft they hail th' approach of laughing May.
Can Kent defign like Nature? Mark where Thames.
Plenty and pleafure pours thro'* Lincoln's meads;
Can the great artift, tho' with tafte fupreme
Endu'd, one beauty to this Eden add?
Tho' he, by rules unfetter'd, boldly fcorns
Formality and method, round and square
Difdaining, plans irregularly great.
Creative Titian, can thy vivid ftrokes,.
Or thine, O graceful Raphael, dare to vie.
With the rich tints that paint the breathing mead?
The thousand-colour'd tulip, violet's bell
Snow-clad and meek, the vermil-tinctur'd rofe,
And golden crocus?-Yet with these the maid,
Phillis or Phoebe, at a feaft or wake,
Her jetty locks enamels; fairer fhe,
In innocence and home-fpun veftments drefs'd,
Than if coerulean fapphires at her ears
Shone pendent, or a precious diamond-crofs
Heav'd gently on her panting bofom white..
Yon' Thepherd idly ftretch'd on the rude rock,
Liftening to dafhing waves, and fea-mews clang
High hovering o'er his head, who views beneath
The dolphin dancing o'er the level brine,
Feels more true blifs than the proud admiral,
Amid his veffels bright with burnifh'd gold.
And filken ftreamers, tho' his lordly nod
Ten thoufand war-worn mariners revere.
And great Eneas + gaz'd with more delight
On the rough mountain fhagg'd with horrid fhades,
(Where cloud-compelling Jove, as fancy dream'd,
Defcending fhook his direful Ægis black)
Than if he enter'd the high Capitol
On golden columns rear'd, a conquer'd world
Exhausted to enrich its ftately head.
More pleas'd he slept in poor Evander's cott
*The earl of Lincoln's terrace at Weybridge in Surry..
†Æneid VIII.
On fhaggy fkins, lull'd by fweet nightingales,
Than if a Nero, in an age refin'd,
Beneath a gorgeous canopy had plac'd
His royal gueft, and bade his minstrels found
Soft flumb'rous Lydian airs, to foothe his reft.
Happy the firft of men, ere yet confin'd
To fmoaky cities; who in fheltering groves,
Warm caves, and deep-funk vallies liv'd and lov'd,
By cares unwounded; what the fun and fhowers,
And genial earth untillag'd could produce,
They gather'd grateful, or the acorn brown,
Or blushing berry; by the liquid lapfe
Of murm'ring waters call'd to flake their thirft,
Or with fair nymphs their fun-brown limbs to bathe;
With nymphs who fondly clafp'd their fav'rite youths,
Unaw'd by fhame, beneath the beechen fhade,
Nor wiles, nor artificial coynefs knew.
Then doors and walls were not; the melting maid
Nor frowns of parents fear'd, nor husband's threats;
Nor had curs'd gold their tender hearts allur'd:
Then beauty was not venal. Injur'd love,
O whither, god of raptures, art thou fled?
While avarice waves his golden wand around,
Abhorr'd magician, and his coftly cup
Prepares with baneful drugs, t' enchant the fouls
Of each low-thoughted fair to wed for gain.
In earth's first infancy (as fung the + bard,
Who ftrongly painted what he boldly thought)
Tho' the fierce north oft fmote with iron whip
Their fhiv'ring limbs, tho' oft the briftly boar
Or hungry lion 'woke them with their howls,
And fear'd them from their mofs-grown caves to rove
Houfelefs and cold in dark tempeftuous nights;
Yet were not myriads in embattel'd fields
Swept off at once, nor had the raging feas
O'erwhelm'd the found'ring bark and fhrieking crew;
In vain the glaffy ocean fmil'd to tempt
The jolly failor unfufpecting harm;
For commerce ne'er had fpread her fwelling fails,
Nor had the wond'ring Nereids ever heard
The dafhing oar: then famine, want, and pine,
Sunk to the grave their fainting limbs; but us
Difeafeful dainties, riot and excefs,
And feverish luxury deftroy. In brakes,
Or marshes wild unknowingly they crop'd
Herbs of malignant juice; to realms remote
While we for powerful poifons madly roam,
From ev'ry noxious herb collecting death.
What tho unknown to thofe primeval fires
The well-arch'd dome, peopled with breathing forms
By fair Italia's fkilful hand, unknown
The fhapely column, and the crumbling busts
Of awful ancestors in long defcent?
Yet why fhould man mistaken deem it nobler
To dwell in palaces, and high-roof'd halls,
Than in God's forefts, architect fupreme !
Say, is the Perfian carpet, than the field's
Or meadow's mantle gay, more richly wov'n;
Or fofter to the votaries of cafe
Than bladed grafs perfum'd with dew-drop'd flow'rs ?
O tafte corrupt! that luxury and pomp,
In fpecious names of polifh'd manners veil'd,
Should proudly banish Nature's fimple charms!
All beauteous Nature! by thy boundless charms
Opprefs'd, O where fhall I begin thy praife,
Where turn th' ecftatick eye, how eafe my breaft
That pants with wild aftonifhment and love!
Dark forefts, and the op'ning lawn, refresh'd
With ever-gufhing brooks, hill, meadow, dale,
The balmy bean-field, the gay clover'd clofe,
So fweetly interchang'd, the lowing ox,
The playful lamb, the diftant water-fall
Now faintly heard, now fwelling with the breeze,
The found of paftoral reed from hazel-bower,
The choral birds, the neighing fteed, that fnuffs
His dappled mate, ftung with intenfe defire,
The ripen'd orchard when the ruddy orbs
Betwixt the green leaves blufh, the azure fkies,,
The chearful fun that thro' earth's vitals pours
Delight and health and heat; all, all confpire,
To raife, to foothe, to harmonize the mind,
To lift, on wings of praife, to the great Sire
Of being and of beauty, at whofe nod
Creation ftarted from the gloomy vault
Of dreary Chaos, while the griefly king
Murmur'd to feel his boisterous power confin'd.
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