With modest truth he sets the wandering right,
And gives religion pure, primeval light;
In love diffusive, as in light refin'd,
The liberal emblem of his Maker's mind.
Is power his orb? He then, likę power divine, On all, though with a varied ray, will shine. Ere power was his, the man, he once caress'd, Meets the same faithful smile, and mutual breast: But asks his friend some dignity of state? His friend, unequal to the' incumbent weight? Asks it a stranger, one whom parts inspire With all a people's welfare would require ? His choice admits no pause; his gift will prove All private well absorb'd in public love. He shields his country, when for aid she calls; Or should she fall, with her he greatly falls: But, as proud Rome, with guilty conquest crown'd, Spread slavery, death, and desolation round, Should e'er his country, for dominion's prize, Against the sons of men a faction rise,
Glory, in hers, is in his eye disgrace;
The friend of truth, the friend of human race.
Thus to no one, no sect, no clime confin'd,
His boundless love embraces all mankind;
And all their virtues in his life are known;
And all their joys and sorrows are his own.
These are the lights, where stands that friend
confest;
This, this the spirit, which informs thy breast.
Through fortune's cloud thy genuine worth can
What wouldst thou not, were wealth and greatness thine?
In me, long absent, long with anguish fraught,
In me, though silence long has deaden'd thought,
Yet memory lives, and calls the Muse's aid,
To snatch our friendship from oblivion's shade.
As soon the sun shall cease the world to warm,
As soon Llanelly's* fair that world to charm,
As grateful sense of goodness, true like thine,
Shall e'er desert a breast so warm as mine.
When imag'd Cambria strikes my memory's eye
(Cambria, my darling scene!) I, sighing, cry,
Where is my Powell? dear associate!—where?
To him I would unbosom every care;
To him, who early felt, from beauty, pain;
Gall'd in a plighted, faithless virgin's chain.
At length, from her ungenerous fetters freed,
Again he loves! he wooes! his hopes succeed!
But the gay bridegroom, still by fortune crost,
Is, instant, in the weeping widower lost.
Her his sole joy! her from his bosom torn,
What feeling heart but learns, like his, to mourn?
Can nature then such sudden shocks sustain ?
Nature thus struck, all reason pleads in vain!
Though late, from reason yet he draws relief,
Dwells on her memory; but dispels his grief.
Love, wealth, and fame (tyrannic passions all!)
No more enflame him, and no more enthral.
He seeks no more, in Rufus' hall, renown;
Nor envies Pelf the jargon of the gown;
But, pleas'd with competence, on rural plains,
His wisdom courts that ease his worth obtains.
Would private jars, which sudden rise, encrease?
His candour smiles all discord into peace.
To party storms is public weal resign'd?
Each steady, patriot virtue steers his mind.
Calm on the beach, while maddening billows rave,
He gains philosophy from every wave;
Science, from every object round, he draws;
From various nature, and from nature's laws.
He lives o'er every past historic age;
He calls forth ethics from the fabled page.
Him, evangelic truth to thought excites;
And him, by turns, each classic Muse delights.
With wit well-natur'd; wit, that would disdain
A pleasure rising from another's pain;
Social to all, and most of bliss possest,
When most he renders all around him blest:
To unread 'squires illiterally gay;
Among the learn'd, as learned full as they;
With the polite, all, all-accomplish'd ease,
By nature form'd, without deceit, to please.
Thus shines thy youth; and thus, my friend, elate
In bliss as well as worth, is truly great.
Me still should ruthless fate, unjust, expose
Beneath those clouds, that rain unnumber'd woes;
Me, to some nobler sphere should fortune raise,
To wealth conspicuous, and to laurel'd praise :
Unalter'd yet be love and friendship mine;
I still am Chloe's, and I still am thine.
ON THE RECOVERY OF THE LADY VISCOUNTESS TYR
WHERE Thames with pride beholds Augusta's charms,
And either India pours into her arms;
Where liberty bids honest arts abound,
And pleasures dance in one eternal round;
High-thron'd appears the laughter-loving dame,
Goddess of mirth, Euphrosynè her name.
Her smile more cheerful than a vernal morn;
All life! all bloom! of Youth and Fancy born.
Touch'd into joy, what hearts to her submit!
She looks her sire, and speaks her mother's wit.
O'er the gay world the sweet inspirer reigns;
Spleen flies, and elegance her pomp sustains.
Thee, goddess! thee! the fair and young obey;
Wealth, wit, love, music, all confess thy sway.
In the bleak wild ev'n want by thee is bless'd,
And pamper'd pride, without thee, pines for rest;
The rich grow richer, while in thee they find
The matchless treasure of a smiling mind:
Science, by thee, flows soft in social ease,
And virtue, loosing rigour, learns to please.
The goddess summons each illustrious name,
Bids the gay talk, and forms the' amusive game.
She, whose fair throne is fix'd in human souls,
From joy to joy her eye delighted rolls.
'But where (she cried) is she, my favourite! she, Of all my race the dearest far to me!
Whose life's the life of each refin'd delight?' She said, but no Tyrconnel glads her sight. Swift sunk her laughing eyes in languid fear; Swift rose the swelling sigh, and trembling tear. In kind, low murmurs, all the loss deplore; Tyrconnel droops, and pleasure is no more.
The goddess, silent, paus'd in museful air; But mirth, like virtue, cannot long despair. Celestial-hinted thoughts gay hope inspir'd, Smiling she rose, and all with hope were fir'd. Where Bath's ascending turrets meet her eyes, Straight wafted on the tepid breeze she flies; She flies, her eldest sister Health to find; She finds her on the mountain-brow reclin❜d. Around her birds in earliest consort sing: Her cheek the semblance of the kindling spring; Fresh-tinctur'd, like a summer-evening sky, And a mild sun sits smiling in her eye. Loose to the wind her verdant vestments flow; Her limbs yet-recent from the springs below; There oft she bathes, then peaceful sits secure, Where every gale is fragrant, fresh, and pure; Where flowers and herbs their cordial odours blend, And all their balmy virtues fast ascend.
Hail, sister, hail! (the kindred goddess cries) No common suppliant stands before your eyes.
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