But hark! the chiming clocks to dinner call; In plenty ftarving, tantaliz'd in state, 170 Yet hence the poor are cloth d, the hungry fed; Health to himself, and to his infants bread, The labourer bears: What his hard heart denies, His charitable vanity fupplies. Another age fhall see the golden ear Imbrown the flope, and nod on the parterre, Who then shall grace, or who improve the foil? Backto his bounds their fübject fea command, And oll obedient rivers through the land; These honours, peace to happy Britain brings; These are imperial works, and worthy kings. EPISTLE V. TO MR. ADDISON, Occafioned by bis Dialogues on Medals. THIS was originally written in the year 1715, when Mr. Addifon intended to publish his book of Medals; it was fome time before he was Secretary of State; but not published till Mr. Tickell's edition of his works; at which time the verfes on Mr. Craggs, which conclude the poem, were added, viz. in 1720. As the third Epiftle treated of the extremes of avarice and profufion; and the fourth took up one particular branch of the latter, namely, the vanity of expence in people of wealth and quality, and was therefore a corollary to the third; fo this treats of one circumftance of that vanity, as it appears in the common collectors of old coins; and is, therefore, a corollary to the fourth. SEE the wild waste of all-devouring years! How Rome her own fad fepulchre appears, With nodding arches, broken temples spread! The very tombs now vanish'd like their dead; Imperial wonders rais'd on nations spoil'd, [toil'd: Where mix'd with flaves the groaning martyr Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods, Now drain'd a diftant country of her floods: Fanes, which admiring gods with pride furvey; Statues of men, scarce lefs alive than they! Some felt the filent ftroke of mouldering age, Some hoftile fury, fome religious rage. Barbarian blindness, Chriftian zeal confpire, And Papal piety, and Gothic fire. ΙΟ Perhaps, by its own ruins fav'd from flame, Ambition figh'd: the found in vain to truft The faithlefs column and the crumbling buft: 20 Huge moles, whofe fhadow stretch'd from fhore to fhore, Their ruins perifh'd, and their place no more! 30 See! fportive fate, to punish aukward pride, You fhow us Ron e was glorious, not profufe, And pompous buildings once were things of ufe. Yet fhall (my lord) your juft, your noble rules Fill half the land with imitating fools; Who random drawings from your fheets fhall take, 30 And of one beauty many blunders make; To build, to plant, whatever you intend, 40 ૪૦ 60 Confult the genius of the place in all; That tells the waters or to rife or fall; Or helps th' ambitious hill the heavens to scale, Or fcoops in circling theatres the vale; Calls in the country, catches opening glades, Joins willing woods, and varies fhades from fhades; Now breaks, or now directs th' intending lines; Paints as you plant and, as you work, defigns. Still follow fenfe, of every art the foul, Parts anfwering part fhall flide into a whole, Spontaneous beauties all around advance, - Start ev'n from difficulty, frike from chance; Nature fhall join you; time shall make it grow A work to wonder at-perhaps a Stow. 70 Without it, proud Verfailles thy glory falls And Nero's terraces Cefert their walls: The vast parterres a thousand hands fhall make, Lo Cobham comes, and floats them with a lake: VARIATIONS. After ver 22, in the MS. Mat bishops, lawyers, frateimen have the skill To build, to plant, judge paintings, what you will? Then why not Kent as well our treaties draw, His quincunx darkens, his efpaliers meet; A waving glow the bloomy beds display, With filver-quivering rills mæander'd o'er- Through his young woods how pleas'd Sabinus ftray'd, Or fate delighted in the thickening fhade, Where all cry out, "What fums are thrown away. So proud, fo grand; of that ftupendous air, His pond an ocean, his parterre a down: A puny infect, fhivering at a breeze! 1.0, what huge heaps of littlenefs around! The whole, a labour'd quarry ab ve ground, 110 But hark! the chiming clocks to dinner call; In plenty starving, tantaliz'd in state, 170 Yet hence the poor are cloth d, the hungry fed; Health to himself, and to his infants bread, The labourer bears: What his hard heart denies, His charitable vanity fupplies. Another age fhall fee the golden ear Imbrown the flope, and nod on the parterre, Deep harvest bury all his pride has plann'd, And laughing Ceres re-affume the land. Who then fhall grace, or who improve the foil? Who plants like Bathurst, or who builds like Boyle. 'Tis ufe alone but fanctifies expence, And fplendor borrows all her rays from fenfe. 180 His father's acres who enjoys in peace, Or makes his neighbours glad, if he increase: Whose cheerful tenants blefs their yearly toil, Yet to their lord owe more than to the foil; Whole ample lawns are not afham'd to feed The milky heifer and deferving steed; Whole rifing forefts, not for pride or show, But future buildings, future navies, grow: Let his plantations stretch from down to down, First fhade a country, and then raise a town. 190 You too proceed! make falling arts your care, Erc& new wonders, and the old repair; Jones and Palladio to themselves restore, And be whate'er Vitruvius was before: Till kings call forth th' ideas of your mind. (Proud to accomplish what fuch hands design'd) Bid harbours open, public ways extend, Bid temples worthier of the god afcend; Bid the broad archthe dangerous flood contain, The mole projected break the roaring main; 200 Backto his bounds their fübject fea command, And oll obedient rivers through the land; These honours, peace to happy Britain brings; These are imperial works, and worthy kings. EPISTLE V. TO MR. ADDISON, Occafioned by bis Dialogues on Medals. THIS was originally written in the year 1715, when Mr. Addison intended to publish his book of Medals; it was fome time before he was Secretary of State; but not published till Mr. Tickell's edition of his works; at which time the verfes on Mr. Craggs, which conclude the poem, were added, viz. in 1720. As the third Epiftle treated of the extremes of avarice and profufion; and the fourth took up one particular branch of the latter, namely, the vanity of expence in people of wealth and quality, and was therefore a corollary to the third; fo this treats of one circumftance of that vanity, as it appears in the common collectors of old coins; and is, therefore, a corollary to the fourth. SEE the wild waste of all-devouring years! ΙΟ Ambition figh'd: the found in vain to trust The faithlefs column and the crumbling buft: 20 Huge moles, whose shadow ftretch'd from fhore to The medal, faithful to its charge of fame, Through climesand ages bears each form and name: In one thort view fubjected to our eye Gods, emperors heroes, fages, beauties, lie. With fharpen'd fight pale antiquaries pore, Th' infcription value, but the ruft adore. 40 This the blue varnish, that the green endears, Theirs is the vanity, the learning thine: 50 In living medals fee her wars enroll'd, Oh, when shall Britain, confcious of her claim," Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd, “And prais'd, unenvy'd, by the muse he lov’d” EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT:. BEING THE PROLOGUE TO THE SATIRES. Advertisement to the firft Publication of this Epifle. THIS paper is a fort of bill of complaint, begun many years fince, and drawn up by fnatches, as the feveral occafions offered. I had no thoughts of publishing it, till it pleased fome perfons of rank and fortune [the authors of verses to the imitator of Horace, and of an epistle to a Doctor of Divinity from a nobleman at Hampton-Court] to attack, in a very extraordinary manner, not only my writings (of which, being public, the public is judge) but my perfon, morals, and family, whereof, to those who know me not, a truer information may be requifite. Being divided between the neceflity to fay fomething of myself, and my own laziness to undertake so aukward a task, I thought it the shortest way to put the laft hand to this epiftle. If it have any thing pleasing, it will be that by which I am most defirous to please, the truth and the sentiment; and if any thing offenfive, it will be only to those I am leaft forry to offend, the vicious or the ungenerous. Many will know their own pictures in it, there being not a circumstance but what is true: but I have, for the most part, spared their names; and they may escape being laughed at, if they please. I would have some of them to know, it was owing to the request of the learned and candid friend to whom it is inscribed, that I make not as free use of theirs as they have done of mine. However, I shall have this advantage and honour on my fide, that whereas, by their proceeding, any abuse may be directed at any man, no injury can possibly be done by mine, fince a nameless character can never be found out, but by its truth and likeness. P. SHUT, fhut the door, good John! fatigu'd I said, They pierce my thickets, through my grot they glide. |