Without fuch fcience of the worldly scene,
What is retirement?-Empty pride or spleen:
But with it wifdom. There fhall cares refine,

Render'd by contemplation half-divine.
Truft not the frantic, or myfterious guide,
Nor ftoop a captive to the fchoolman's pride.
On nature's wonders fix alone thy zeal!
They dim not reafon, when they truth reveal;
So fhall religion in thy heart endure,
From all traditionary falfehood pure;
So life make death familiar to thy eye,

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So fhalt thou live, as thou may't learn to die;
And, though thou view'ft thy worst oppreffor thrive,
From tranfient woe, immortal blifs derive.
Farewell Nay, ftop the parting tear!-1 go!
But leave the Mufe thy comforter below.
He faid. Inftant his pinions upward foar,
He leffening as they rife, till feen no more.
While Contemplation weigh'd the mystic view, 785
The lights all vanifh'd, and the vifion flew,

THE

BASTARD:

INSCRIBED WITH ALL DUE REVERENCE TO

MRS. BRETT,

ONCE COUNTESS OF MACCLESFIELD.

Decet hæc dare dona Novercam."

Ov. Met.

PREFACE.

TH

HE reader will eafily perceive these verfes were begun, when my heart was gayer than it has been of late; and finished in hours of the deepest melancholy.

I hope the world will do me the justice to believe, that no part of this flaws from any real anger again the Lady, to whom it is infcribed. Whatever undeferved feverities I may have received at her hands, would fhe deal fo candidly as acknowledge truth, the very well knows, by an experience of many years, that I have ever behaved myfelf towards her, like one who thought it his duty to fupport with patience all afflictions from that quarter. Indeed, if I had not been capable of forgiving a Mother, I must have blufhed to receive pardon myfelf at the hands of my Sovereign.

Neither,

Neither, to fay the truth, were the manner of my birth all, fhould I have any reafon for complaintWhen I am a little difpofed to a gay turn of thinking, I confider, as I was a Derelict from my cradle, I have the honour of a lawful claim to the beft protection in Europe. For being a spot of earth, to which nobody pretends a title, I devolve naturally upon the King, as one of the rights of his Royalty.

While I prefume to name his Majesty, I look back, with confufion, upon the mercy I have lately experienced; because it is impoffible to remember it, but with fomething I would fain forget, for the fake of my future peace, and alleviation of my paft misfortune.

I owe my life to the Royal Pity, if a wretch can, with propriety, be faid to live, whofe days are fewer than his forrows; and to whom death had been but a redemption from mifery.

But I will fuffer my pardon as my punishment, tilk that life, which has fo graciously been given me, fhall become confiderable enough not to be ufelefs in his fervice to whom it was forfeited. Under influence of these fentiments, with which His Majesty's great goodnefs has infpired me, I confider my lofs of fortune and dignity as my happiness; to which, as I am born without ambition, I am thrown from them without repining-Poffeffing thofe advantages, my care had been, perhaps, how to enjoy life; by the want of them I am taught this nobler leffon, to study how to deferve it.

RICHARD SAVAGE.

THE

BASTA R D..

IN gayer hours, when high my fancy ran,

The Mufe, exulting, thus her lay began.
Bleft be the Bastard's birth! through wondrous ways,
He fhines eccentric like a comet's blaze!
No fickly fruit of faint compliance He!

He! fampt in nature's mint of ecstacy!
He lives to build, not boaft, a generous race :
No tenth tranfmitter of a foolish face.

His daring hope, no fire's example bounds;
His first-born lights, no prejudice confounds.
He, kindling from within, requires no flame;
He glories in a Baftard's glowing name.

Born to himself, by no poffeffion led,
In freedom fofter'd, and by fortune fed;

Nor guides, nor rules, his fovereign choice control, 15
His body independent as his foul;

Loos'd to the world's wide range-enjoy'd no aim,
Preferib'd no duty, and affign'd no name :
Nature's unbounded fon, he ftands alone,
His heart unbiafs'd, and his mind his own.
O Mother, yet no Mother! 'tis to you,
My thanks for fuch distinguish'd claims are due.
You, unenflav'd to Nature's narrow laws,
Warm championefs for freedom's facred cause,
From all the dry devoirs of blood and line,
From ties maternal, moral and divine,

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Discharged

Difcharg'd my grasping foul; pufh'd me from shore, And launch'd me into life without an oar.

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What had I loft, if, conjugally kind,
By nature hating, yet by vows confin'd,
Untaught the matrimonial bounds to flight,
And coldly conscious of a husband's right,
You had faint-drawn me with a form alone,
A lawful lump of life by force your own!
Then, while your backward will retrench'd defire, 35
And unconcurring spirits lent no fire,

I had been born your dull, domestic heir,
Load of your life, and motive of your care;
Perhaps been poorly rich, and meanly great,
The flave of pomp, a cypher in the state;
Lordly neglectful of a worth unknown,
And flumbering in a feat, by chance my own.
Far nobler bleffings wait the Baftard's lot;
Conceiv'd in rapture, and with fire begot !
Strong as neceffity, he starts away,

Climbs against wrongs, and brightens into day.
Thus unprophetic, lately misinfpir'd,

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I fung: Gay fluttering hope, my fancy fir'd;
Inly fecure, through confcious fcorn of ill,
Nor taught by wifdom, how to balance will,
Rafhly deceiv'd, I saw no pits to fhun,
But thought to purpose and to act were one;
Heedlefs what pointed cares pervert his way,
Whom caution arms not, and whom woes betray;
But now, expos'd, and shrinking from diftress,
I fly to shelter, while the tempefts prefs;

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