And Chatham, heart-fick of his country's fhame. They made us many foldiers. Chatham ftill Confulting England's happiness at home,
Secured it by an unforgiving frown
If any wrong'd her. Wolfe, where'er he fought, Put fo much of his heart into his act,
That his example had a magnet's force,
And all were fwift to follow whom all loved. Thofe funs are fet. Oh rife fome other fuch! Or all that we have left, is empty talk Of old atchievements, and defpair of new.
Now hoift the fail, and let the ftreamers float Upon the wanton breezes. Strew thy deck With lavender, and fprinkle liquid fweets, That no rude favour maritime, invade The nofe of nice nobility. Breathe soft Ye clarionets, and fofter ftill ye flutes, That winds and waters, lull'd by magic founds, May bear us fmoothly to the Gallic fhore. True, we have loft an empire-let it pafs. True, we may thank the perfidy of France, That pick'd the jewel out of England's crown, With all the cunning of an envious fhrew. And let that pass-'twas but a trick of state. A brave man knows no malice, but at once Forgets in peace, the injuries of war, And gives his direft foe a friend's embrace. And fham'd as we have been, to th' very beard, Brav'd and defied, and in our own fea proved
Too weak for thofe decifive blows, that once Infured us maft'ry there, we yet retain Some fmall pre-eminence, we justly boast At least fuperior jockeyfhip, and claim The honors of the turf as all our own. Go then, well worthy of the praise ye feek, And show the shame ye might conceal at home, In foreign eyes!-be grooms, and win the plate, Where once your nobler fathers won a crown! 'Tis gen'rous to communicate your skill
To thofe that need it. Folly is foon learn'd, And under fuch preceptors, who can fail?
There is a pleasure in poetic pains, Which only poets know. The shifts and turns, Th' expedients and inventions multiform, To which the mind reforts, in chace of terms, Though apt, yet coy, and difficult to win→→→ T' arreft the fleeting images that fill
The mirror of the mind, and hold them faft, And force them fit, 'till he has pencil'd off A faithful likenefs of the forms he views; Then to dispose his copies with such art, That each may find its moft propitious light, And shine by fituation, hardly less, Than by the labour and the skill it cost, Are occupations of the poet's mind
So pleafing, and that fteal away the thought With fuch addrefs, from themes of fad import, That loft in his own mufings, happy man!
He feels th' anxieties of life, denied
Their wonted entertainment, all retire.
Such joys has he that fings. But ah! not such, Or feldom fuch, the hearers of his fong. Faftidious, or elfe liftlefs, or perhaps Aware of nothing arduous in a task They never undertook, they little note His dangers or escapes, and hap❜ly find There leaft amusement where he found the most. But is amusement all? Itudious of song, And yet ambitious not to fing in vain, I would not trifle merely, though the world Be loudeft in their praise who do no more. Yet what can fatire, whether grave or gay? It may correct a foible, may chastise The freaks of fashion, regulate the drefs, Retrench a fword-blade, or difplace a patch; But where are its fublimer trophies found? What vice has it fubdued? whofe heart reclaim'd By rigour, or whom laugh'd into reform? Alas! Leviathan is not so tamed,
Laugh'd at, he laughs again; and ftricken hard, Turns to the ftroke his adamantine fcales,
That fear no discipline of human hands.
The pulpit therefore (and I name it, fill'd With folemn awe, that bids me well beware With what intent I touch that holy thing) The pulpit (when the fat'rift has at last, : Strutting and vap'ring.in an empty school,.
Spent all his force and made no profelyte) I fay the pulpit (in the fober use
Of its legitimate peculiar pow'rs)
Muft ftand acknowledg'd, while the world fhall ftand, The most important and effectual guard,
Support and ornament of virtue's caufe.
There ftands the meffenger of truth. There ftande The legate of the fkies. His theme divine, His office facred, his credentials clear. By him, the violated law fpeaks out
Its thunders, and by him, in ftrains as sweet As angels use, the gofpel whispers peace. He stablishes the strong, reftores the weak, Reclaims the wand'rer, binds the broken heart, And arm'd himself in panoply complete Of heav'nly temper, furnishes with arms Bright as his own, and trains by ev'ry rule Of holy difcipline, to glorious war,
The facramental hoft of God's elect.
Are all fuch teachers? would to heav'n all were! But hark-the Doctor's voice-faft wedg'd between Two empirics he ftands, and with fwoln cheeks Infpires the news, his trumpet. Keener far Than all invective is his bold harrangue, While through that public organ of report He hails the clergy; and defying fhame, Announces to the world his own and theirs. He teaches thof: to read, whom schools dismiss'd, And colleges untaught; fells accent, tone, And emphafis in fcore, and gives to pray'r G
Th' adagio and andante it demands.
He grinds divinity of other days
Down into modern use; transforms old print To zig-zag manufcript, and cheats the eyes Of gall❜ry critics by a thousand arts.- Are there who purchase of the Doctor's ware? Oh name it not in Gath!-it cannot be,
That grave and learned Clerks fhould need fuch aid. He doubtless is in fport, and does but droll, Affuming thus a rank unknown before, Grand caterer and dry-nurfe of the church.
I venerate the man, whose heart is warm, Whofe hands are pure, whofe doctrine and whofe life Coincident, exhibit lucid proof
That he is honeft in the facred cause.
To fuch I render more than mere respect,
Whofe actions say that they respect themselves. But loose in morals, and in manners vain, In converfation frivolous, in drefs Extreme, at once rapacious and profufe, Frequent in park, with lady at his fide, Ambling and prattling fcandal as he goes, But rare at home, and never at his books, Or with his pen, fave when he fcrawls a card; Conftant at routs, familiar with a round Of ladyfhips, a ftranger to the poor; Ambitious of preferment for its gold, And well prepar❜d by ignorance and floth, By infidelity and love o' th' world
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