friends who were the recipients of this confidential prophecy had little hope that such immortality would be his!
The excesses of Eusden undoubtedly shortened his life, and when the end came, in 1730, there were few to regret him-even the court which had honoured him forgot the beautiful and sweet things he had written, and turned with zest to listen to the voice of another.
"Know Eusden thirsts no more for sack or praise;
He sleeps among the dull of ancient days.
Safe, where no critics damn, no duns molest,
Where wretched Withers, Ward, and Gildon rest..
Thou, Cibber! Thou his laurel shalt support,
Folly, my son, has still a friend at court.'
A POEM ON THE HAPPY SUCCESSION AND CORONATION OF HIS PRESENT MAJESTY, KING GEORGE II.
So when great Brunswick yielded to his fate,
O'ercast and cheerless was Britannia's state;
Her cheeks to lose their bloomy hue began,
And all her roses vanished with the sun.
Till a new Brunswick, with an equal ray,
Recalled at once her beauties, and the day,
Firm and unchanged, the spires and turrets stand,
Religion, join'd with Liberty's fair hand,
In triumph walk, and bless with wonted smiles, the land.
Hail, mighty monarch! whose desert alone
Would without birthright raise thee to a throne.
Thy virtues shine peculiarly nice,
Ungloomed with a confinity to vice,
What strains shall equal to thy glories rise,
First of the world and borderer on the skies?
How exquisitely great, who canst inspire
Such joys, that Albion mourns no more thy sire?
Thy sire a Prince she loved to that degree,
She almost trespassed to the Deity.
Imperial weight he bore with so much ease,
Who but thyself would not despair to please?
A dull, fat, thoughtless heir, unheeded springs
From a long, slothful line of restive kings
And thrones, inur'd to a tyrannic race,
Think a new tyrant not a new disgrace,
Tho' by the change the state no bliss receives,
And Nero dies in vain, if Otho lives.
But when a stem, with fruitful branches crowned,
Still ever seem (if they survive or fall),
All heroes and their country's fathers all,
His great forerunners when the last outshone,
Who could a brighter hope, or ev'n as bright a son?
Old Rome, with tears the younger Scipio viewed,
Who not in fame her African renew'd.
Avaunt, degenerate grafts, or spurious breed,
'Tis a George only can a George succeed;
The shafts of Death, the Pelian art have found,
They bring at once the balm that give the wound.
Such to Britannia is her king
As the softly murmuring spring.
Genius! now securely rest,
We shall evermore be blest.
Thou thy guardianship may spare,
Britannia is a Brunswick's care!
A MARVELLOUS child most precious sweet,
For deeds heroic, glorious from his birth,
The Rhine, the wide-spread Earth,
His praises send most meet.
His deeds to mountains name
Have lent since here to earth he came.
Streams which in silence flowed obscure before,
Swell'd by his conquests, proudly learn'd to roar.
A MILK-WHITE rogue, immortal and unchang'd,
By Fate and Parliaments severely bang'd,
Without a Saint, a Devil was within;
He fought all dangers, for he knew all sin.
Resolv'd for grandeur, and to acquire wealth,
Robb'd some by force, and others trick'd by stealth;
A wheedling, fawning, parsimonious knave,
The prince's favour he resolv'd to have.
The only means by which he thought to rise,
He shuffl'd cards and slyly cogg'd his dice;
A true state juggler could make things appear
Such as would please his prince's eye or ear;
Produc'd false lights his monarch to mislead,
Which made him from his paths of interest tread,
He screen'd all villains from due course of laws,
And from his prince his truest subjects draws;
Till angry senates the vile monster took,
And from the root the upstart cedar shook,
Squeez'd the curst sponge had suck'd the nation's coin,
And made him cast up what he did purloin :
Then on a gibbet did the monster die,
A just example to posterity.
LET favourites beware how they abuse
Their prince's goodness or the people's laws:
How they clandestine methods ever use
To propagate a wrong unrighteous cause.
The prince's favour, like a horse untam'd,
Does often break the giddy rider's neck:
On him who for preferments so much fam'd,
The people oft their bloody vengeance wreak.
Let these beware how they mislead their prince,
Or rob the treasure of a potent nation,
(Or multiply enormous armies: from hence)
Come hanging oft, or noble decollation.
You ask, my friend, how I can Delia prize,
When Myra's shape I view, or Cynthia's eyes;
No tedious answer shall create your pain,
For beauty if but beauty, I disdain.
'Tis not a mien that can my will control,
A speaking body with a silent soul.
The loveliest face to me not lovely shows,
From the sweet lips if melting nonsense flows
Nor must the tuneful Chloris be my choice,
An earthly mind ill suits a heavenly voice.
What though my Delia not decay'd appears,
She wants, you cry, the gaudy bloom of years.
True; but good sense perpetual joys will bring:
Her wit is ever youthful as the spring.
So kneels at some fam'd antiquated shrine,
The pious pilgrim to the power divine.
Around he sees wild rugged heaps of stone,
Where Parian marble once and jasper shone:
Yet, conscious what those ruins were of old,
Dares not, unwoo'd, the mossy walls behold;
But trembles at the Deity's abode,
And owns the powerful presence of the God.
ON THE SPECTATOR'S CRITIQUE ON MILTON.
LOOK here, ye pedants, who deserve that name,
And lewdly ravish the great critic's fame.
In cloudless beams of light true judgment plays,
How mild the censure, how refin'd the praise!
Beauties ye pass, and blemishes ye cull,
Profoundly read and eminently dull.
Though linnets sing, yet owls feel no delight;
For they the best can judge who best can write.
O! had great Milton but surviv'd to hear
His numbers try'd by such a tuneful ear;
How would he all thy just remarks commend!
The more the critic, own the more the friend.
But, did he know once your immortal strain,
Th' exalted pleasure would increase to pain;
He would not blush for faults he rarely knew,
But blush for glories thus excell'd by you.
TO THE REVEREND DR. BENTLEY.
(On opening Trinity College chapel.)
LONG have we, safe, Time's envious fury scorn'd,
By kings first founded, then by kings adorn'd;
If fainting e'er we fear'd a fatal close
Some new Mæcenas with new life arose.
Fretted by age, we still the stronger grow,
And to our ruins all our beauties owe.
So cassia roughly chaf'd the sweeter smells,
And silver more consum'd in brightness more excels.
Rais'd on high columns the proud fabric stands,
Where Barrow praise from every tongue commands;
Where the vast treasures of the learn'd are shown;
No works more rich, more noble, than his own.
The Muses soon the stately feat admir'd,
And in full transports their glad sons inspir'd:
Their sons, inspir'd, sung loud, and all around
Echo redoubled back the cheerful sound;
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