Ascending, then by downward tract convey'd, Spouts into subject vessels, lovely clear.
As when a noontide sun, with summer beams, Darts through a cloud, her wat'ry skirts are edg'd With lucid amber, or undrossy gold:
So, and so richly, the purg'd liquid shines.
Now also, when the colds abate, nor yet Full summer shines, a dubious season, close In glass thy purer streams, and let them gain, From due confinement, spirit, and flavor new. For this intent, the subtle chymist feeds Perpetual flames, whose unresisted force, O'er sand, and ashes, and the stubborn flint Prevailing, turns into a fusil sea,
That in his furnace bubbles sunny-red : From hence a glowing drop with hollow'd steel He takes, and by one efficacious breath Dilates to a surprising cube, or sphere, Or oval, and fit receptacles forms For every liquid, with his plastic lungs, To human life subservient; by his means Ciders in metal frail improve: the Moyle, And tasteful Pippin, in a moon's short year, Acquire complete perfection: now they smoke Transparent, sparkling in each drop, delight Of curious palate, by fair virgins crav'd. But harsher fluids different lengths of time Expect; thy flask will slowly mitigate The Eliot's roughness. Stirom, firmest fruit, Embottled (long as Priæmian Troy Withstood the Greeks) endures, ere justly mild. Soften'd by age, it youthful vigor gains. Fallacious drink! ye honest men, beware, Nor trust its smoothness; the third circling glass Suffices virtue: but may hypocrites, (That slyly speak one thing, another think, Hateful as Hell) pleas'd with the relish weak, Drink on unwarn'd, till by enchanting cups Infatuate, they their wily thoughts disclose, And through intemperance grow awhile sincere. The farmer's toil is done; his cades mature Now call for vent: his lands exhaust permit T' indulge awhile. Now solemn rites he pays To Bacchus, author of heart-cheering mirth. His honest friends, at thirsty hour of dusk, Come uninvited; he with bounteous hand Imparts his smoking vintage, sweet reward Of his own industry; the well-fraught bowl Circles incessant, whilst the humble cell With quavering laugh and rural jests resounds. Ease, and content, and undissembled love, Shine in each face; the thoughts of labor past Increase their joy: as, from retentive cage When sullen Philomel escapes, her notes She varies, and of past imprisonment Sweetly complains; her liberty retriev'd Cheers her sad soul. improves her pleasing song. Gladsome they quaff, yet not exceed the bounds Of healthy temperance, nor encroach on night, Season of rest, but well bedew'd repair Each to his home, with unsupplanted feet. Ere Heaven's emblazon'd by the rosy dawn, Domestic cares awake them; brisk they rise, Refresh'd, and lively with the joys that flow From amicable talk, and moderate cups Sweetly interchang'd. The pining lover finds Present redress, and long oblivion drinks Of coy Lucinda. Give the debtor wine; His joys are short, and few; yet when he drinks, His dread retires, the flowing glasses add
Courage and mirth: magnificent in thought, Imaginary riches he enjoys,
And in the gaol expatiates unconfin'd. Nor can the poet Bacchus' praise indite, Debarr'd his grape: the Muses still require Humid regalement, nor will aught avail Imploring Phoebus, with unmoisten'd lips. Thus to the generous bottle all incline,
By parching thirst allur'd: with vehement suns When dusty Summer bakes the crumbling clods, How pleasant is 't, beneath the twisted arch Of a retreating bower, in mid-day's reign To ply the sweet carouse, remote from noise, Secur'd of feverish heats! When th' aged year Inclines, and Boreas' spirit blusters frore, Beware th' inclement Heavens; now let thy hearth Crackle with juiceless boughs; thy lingering blood Now instigate with th' apple's powerful streams. Perpetual showers, and stormy gusts, confine The willing plowman, and December warns To annual jollities; now sportive youth Carol incondite rhymes, with suiting notes, And quaver unharmonious; sturdy swains In clean array for rustic dance prepare, Mixt with the buxom damsels; hand in hand They frisk and bound, and various mazes weave, Shaking their brawny limbs, with uncouth mien, Transported, and sometimes an oblique leer, Dart on their loves, sometimes an hasty kiss Steal from unwary lasses; they with scorn, And neck reclin'd, resent the ravish'd bliss. Meanwhile blind British bards with volant touch Traverse loquacious strings, whose solemn notes Provoke to harmless revels; these among, A subtle artist stands, with wondrous bag That bears imprison'd winds (of gentler sort Than those, which erst Laertes' son inclos'd.) Peaceful they sleep; but let the tuneful squeeze Of laboring elbow rouse them, out they fly Melodious, and with sprightly accents charm. 'Midst these disports, forget they not to drench Themselves with bellying goblets; nor, when Spring Returns, can they refuse to usher in
The fresh-born year with loud acclaim, and store Of jovial draughts, now, when the sappy boughs Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments Of future harvest. When the Gnossian crown Leads on expected autumn, and the trees Discharge their mellow burthens, let them thank Boon Nature, that thus annually supplies Their vaults, and with her former liquid gifts Exhilarates their languid minds, within The golden mean confin'd: beyond there's nought Of health, or pleasure. Therefore, when thy heart Dilates with fervent joys, and eager soul Prompts to pursue the sparkling glass, be sure "Tis time to shun it; if thou wilt prolong Dire compotation, forthwith Reason quits Her empire to confusion, and misrule, And vain debates; then twenty tongues at once Conspire in senseless jargon, nought is heard But din, and various clamor, and mad rant: Distrust, and jealousy, to these succeed, And anger-kindling taunt, the certain bane Of well-knit fellowship. Now horrid frays Commence, the brimming glasses now are hurl'd With dire intent; bottles with bottles clash In rude encounter, round their temples fly The sharp-edg'd fragments, down their batter'd
Mix'd gore and cider flow.
What shall we say Of rash Elpenor, who in evil hour Dried an immeasurable bowl, and thought T'exhale his surfeit by irriguous sleep, Imprudent? him Death's iron-sleep opprest, Descending careless from his couch; the fall Luxt his neck-joint, and spinal marrow bruis'd. Nor need we tell what anxious cares attend The turbulent mirth of wine; nor all the kinds Of maladies, that lead to Death's grim cave, Wrought by intemperance, joint-racking gout, Intestine stone, and pining atrophy, Chill even when the Sun with July heats Fries the scorch'd soil, and dropsy all afloat, Yet craving liquids: nor the Centaurs' tale Be here repeated; how, with lust and wine Inflam'd, they fought, and spilt their drunken souls At feasting hour. Ye heavenly Powers, that guard The British isles, such dire events remove Far from fair Albion, nor let civil broils Ferment from social cups: may we, remote From the hoarse, brazen sound of war, enjoy Our humid products, and with seemly draughts Enkindle mirth, and hospitable love. Too oft, alas! has mutual hatred drench'd Our swords in native blood; too oft has pride, And hellish discord, and insatiate thirst Of others' rights, our quiet discompos'd. Have we forgot, how fell Destruction rag'd Wide-spreading, when by Eris' torch incens'd Our fathers warr'd? what heroes, signaliz'd For loyalty and prowess, met their fate Untimely, undeserv'd! how Bertie fell, Compton, and Granville, dauntless sons of Mars, Fit themes of endless grief, but that we view Their virtues yet surviving in their race! Can we forget, how the mad, headstrong rout Defied their prince to arms, nor made account Of faith or duty, or allegiance sworn? Apostate, atheist rebels! bent to ill, With seeming sanctity, and cover'd fraud, Instill'd by him, who first presum'd t' oppose Omnipotence; alike their crime, th' event Was not alike; these triumph'd, and in height Of barbarous malice, and insulting pride, Abstain'd not from imperial blood. O fact Unparallel'd! O Charles, O best of kings! What stars their black disastrous influence shed On thy nativity, that thou shouldst fall Thus, by inglorious hands, in this thy realm, Supreme and innocent, adjudg'd to death By those thy mercy only would have sav'd! Yet was the Cider-land unstain'd with guilt; The Cider-land, obsequious still to thrones, Abhorr'd such base disloyal deeds, and all Her pruning-hooks extended into swords, Undaunted, to assert the trampled rights Of monarchy: but, ah! successless she, However faithful! then was no regard
Of right, or wrong. And this once-happy land, By homebred fury rent, long groan'd beneath Tyrannic sway, till fair revolving years Our exil'd kings and liberty restor❜d. Now we exult, by mighty Anna's care Secure at home, while she to foreign realms Sends forth her dreadful legions, and restrains The rage of kings: here, nobly she supports Justice oppress'd; here, her victorious arms Quell the ambitious: from her hand alone All Europe fears revenge, or hopes redress.
Rejoice, O Albion! sever'd from the world By Nature's wise indulgence, indigent Of nothing from without; in one supreme Entirely blest; and from beginning time Design'd thus happy; but the fond desire Of rule and grandeur multiplied a race Of kings, and numerous sceptres introduc'd, Destructive of the public weal. For now
Each potentate, as wary fear, or strength, Or emulation urg'd, his neighbor's bounds Invades, and ampler territory seeks With ruinous assault; on every plain
Host cop'd with host, dire was the din of war, And ceaseless, or short truce haply procur'd By havoc, and dismay, till jealousy Rais'd new combustion. Thus was peace in vain Sought for by martial deeds, and conflict stern: Till Edgar grateful (as to those who pine A dismal half-year night, the orient beam Of Phoebus' lamp) arose, and into one Cemented all the long-contending powers. Pacific monarch! then her lovely head Concord rear'd high, and all around diffus'd The spirit of love. At ease, the bards new-strung Their silent harps, and taught the woods and vales, In uncouth rhymes, to echo Edgar's name. Then gladness smil'd in every eye; the years Ran smoothly on, productive of a line Of wise, heroic kings, that by just laws Establish'd happiness at home, or crush'd Insulting enemies in furthest climes.
See lion-hearted Richard, with his force Drawn from the North, to Jewry's hallow'd plains! Piously valiant (like a torrent swell'd
With wintry tempests, that disdains all mounds, Breaking a way impetuous, and involves Within its sweep, trees, houses, men) he press'd Amidst the thickest battle, and o'erthrew Whate'er withstood his zealous rage: no pause, No stay of slaughter, found his vigorous arm, But th' unbelieving squadrons turn'd to flight, Smote in the rear, and with dishonest wounds | Mangled behind. The Soldan, as he fled, Oft call'd on Allah, gnashing with despite And shame, and murmur'd many an empty curse. Behold third Edward's streamers blazing high On Gallia's hostile ground! his right withheld, Awakens vengeance. O imprudent Gauls, Relying on false hopes, thus to incense The warlike English! One important day Shall teach you meaner thoughts. Eager of fight, Fierce Brutus' offspring to the adverse front Advance resistless, and their deep array With furious inroad pierce the mighty force Of Edward twice o'erturn'd their desperate king; Twice he arose, and join'd the horrid shock: The third time, with his wide-extended wings, He fugitive declin'd superior strength, Discomfited; pursued, in the sad chase Ten thousand ignominious fall; with blood The valleys float. Great Edward thus aveng'd, With golden Iris his broad shield emboss'd. Thrice-glorious prince! whom Fame with all her
By inclination, or vain hope, repair'd To either camp, and breath'd immortal hate, And dire revenge. Now horrid Slaughter reigns: Sons against fathers tilt the fatal lance, Careless of duty, and their native grounds Distain with kindred blood; the twanging bows Send showers of shafts, that on their barbed points Alternate ruin bear. Here might you see Barons, and peasants, on th' embattled field Slain, or half-dead, in one huge, ghastly heap
Promiscuously amass'd. With dismal groans, And ejulation, in the pangs of death
Some call for aid, neglected; some, o'erturn'd In the fierce shock, lie gasping, and expire, Trampled by fiery coursers: Horror thus, And wild Uproar, and Desolation, reign'd Unrespited. Ah! who at length will end This long, pernicious fray? what man has Fate Reserv'd for this great work?-Hail, happy prince Of Tudor's race, whom in the womb of Time Cadwallador foresaw! thou, thou art he, Great Richmond Henry, that by nuptial rites Must close the gates of Janus, and remove Destructive Discord. Now no more the drum Provokes to arms, or trumpet's clangor shrill Affrights the wives, or chills the virgins' blood; But joy and pleasure open to the view Uninterrupted! with presaging skill Thou to thy own unitest Fergus' line
By wise alliance: from thee James descends, Heaven's chosen favorite, first Britannic king. To him alone hereditary right
Gave power supreme; yet still some seeds remain'd Of discontent: two nations under one, In laws and interest diverse, still pursued
Peculiar ends, on each side resolute
To fly conjunction; neither fear, nor hope, Nor the sweet prospect of a mutual gain, Could aught avail, till prudent Anna said, Let there be union: straight with reverence due To her command, they willingly unite, One in affection, laws and government, Indissolubly firm; from Dubris south, To northern Orcades, her long domain.
And now, thus leagued by an eternal bond, What shall retard the Britons' bold designs, Or who sustain their force, in union knit, Sufficient to withstand the powers combin'd Of all this globe? At this important act The Mauritanian and Cathaian kings Already tremble, and th' unbaptiz'd Turk Dreads war from utmost Thule. Uncontroll'd The British navy through the ocean vast Shall wave her double cross, t'extremest climes Terrific, and return with odorous spoils Of Araby well fraught, or Indus' wealth, Pearl, and barbaric gold: meanwhile the swains Shall unmolested reap what Plenty strows From well-stor'd horn, rich grain, and timely fruits The elder year, Pomona, pleas'd, shall deck With ruby-tinctur'd births, whose liquid store Abundant, flowing in well-blended streams, The native shall applaud; while glad they talk Of baleful ills, caus'd by Bellona's wrath In other realms; where'er the British spread Triumphant banners, or their fame has reach'd Diffusive, to the utmost bounds of this Wide universe, Silurian cider borne
Shall please all tastes, and triumph o'er the vine.
ministry at Queen Anne's death put an end to his more brilliant prospects in the church. By means, however, of Swift's recommendation to Archbishop King, he obtained a prebend, and the valuable living of Finglass.
put upon the circumstance by his historian, Goldsmith, who represents him, "as in some measure a martyr to conjugal fidelity." But it can scarcely be doubted, that this mode of life had already been formed when his very unequal spirits had required the aid of a glass for his support. He died at Chester, on his way to Ireland, in July 1717, in the thirty-eighth year of his age, and was buried in Trinity Church, in that city.
THOMAS PARNELL, an agreeable poet, was de- tention of rising to notice; but the change of the scended from an ancient family in Cheshire. His father, who was attached to the cause of the Parliament in the civil wars of Charles I., withdrew to Ireland after the Restoration, where he purchased an estate. His eldest son, Thomas, was born at Dublin, in 1679, and received his school education His domestic happiness received a severe shock in that city. At an early age he was removed to in 1712, by the death of his beloved wife; and it the college, where he was admitted to the degree was the effect on his spirits of this affliction, which of M A. in 1700, took deacon's orders in the same led him into such a habit of intemperance in wine, year, and was ordained priest three years after-as shortened his days. This, at least, is the gloss wards. In 1705 he was presented to the archdeaconry of Clogher, and about the same time married a lady of great beauty and merit. He now began to make those frequent excursions to England, in which the most desirable part of his life was thenceforth spent. His first connexions were principally with the Whigs, at that time in power; and Addison, Congreve, and Steele, are named among his chief companions. When, at the latter part of Queen Anne's reign, the Tories were triumphant, Parnell was the author of several pieces, both in Parnell deserted his former friends, and associated prose and verse; but it is only by the latter that he with Swift, Pope, Gay, and Arbuthnot. Swift in- is now known. Of these a collection was published troduced him to Lord-Treasurer Harley; and, with by Pope, with a dedication to the Earl of Oxford. the dictatorial air which he was fond of assuming, Their characters are ease, sprightliness, fancy, clearinsisted upon the Treasurer's going with his staff in ness of language, and melody of versification; and his hand into the antichamber, where Parnell was though not ranking among the most finished producwaiting to welcome him. It is said of this poet, tions of the British muse, they claim a place among that every year, as soon as he had collected the the most pleasing. A large addition to these was rents of his estate, and the revenue of his benefices, made in a work printed in Dublin, in 1758, of he came over to England, and spent some months, which Dr. Johnson says, "I know not whence they living in an elegant style, and rather impairing than came, nor have ever inquired whither they are improving his fortune. At this time he was an as- going."
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