Classic Poem

To THOMAS ASHTON, Esq. TUTOR TO THE EARL OF PLIMOUTH.

When flourish'd with their state th' A THENIAN name,
And learning and politeness were the same,
Philosophy with gentle arts refin'd
The honest roughness of th' unpractis'd mind:
She call'd the latent beams of nature forth,
Guided their ardor and insur'd their worth.
She pois'd th' impetuous warrior's vengeful steel,
Mark'd true ambition from destructive zeal,
Pointed what lustre on that laurel blows,
Which virtue only on her sons bestows.
Hence clement C IMON , of unspotted fame,
Hence A RISTIDES ' ever-fav'rite name;
Heroes, who knew to wield the righteous spear,
And guard their native tow'rs from foreign fear;
Or in firm bands of social peace to bind
Their country's good, and benefit mankind.
She trim'd the thoughtful statesman's nightly oil,
Confirm'd his mind beneath an empire's toil,
Or with him to his silent villa stole,
Gilded his ev'ning hours, and harmoniz'd his soul.

 To woods and caves she never bade retreat,
Nor fix'd in cloister'd monkeries her seat:
No lonely precepts to her sons enjoin'd,
Nor taught them to be men, to shun mankind.
Cynics there were, an uncouth selfish race,
Of manners soul, and boastful of disgrace:
Brutes, whom no muse has ever lov'd to name,
Whose ignominy was their only fame.
No hostile trophies grace their honour'd urn,
Around their tomb no sculptur'd virtues mourn;
Nor tells the marble into emblems grav'd
An art discover'd or a city sav'd.

 Be this the goal to which the Briton-peer
Exalt his hope, and press his young career!
Be this the goal to which, my friend, may you
With gentle skill direct his early view!
Artful the various studies to dispense,
And melt the schoolman's jargon down to sense.

 See the pedantic teacher, winking, dull,
The letter'd tyrant of a trembling school;
Teaching by force, and proving by a frown,
His listed fasces ram the lesson down.
From tortur'd strains of eloquence he draws
Barbaric precepts and unmeaning laws,
By his own sense would T ULLY 's word expound,
And a new V ANDAL tramples classic ground.

 Perhaps a bigot to the learned page,
No modern custom can his thoughts engage.
His little farm by G EORGIC rules he ploughs,
And prunes by metre the luxuriant boughs:
Still from A RATUS ' sphere or M ARO 's signs
The future calm or tempest he divines:
And fears if the prognostic raven's found
Expatiating alone along the dreary round.

 What scanty precepts! studies how confin'd!
Too mean to fill your comprehensive mind;
Unsatisfy'd with knowing when or where
Some Roman bigot rais'd a fane to F EAR ;
On what green medal V IRTUE stands express'd,
How C ONCORD 's pictur'd, L IBERTY how dress'd;
Or with wise ken judiciously define,
When Pius marks the honorary coin
Of C ARACALLA , or of A NTONINE .

 Thirsting for knowledge, but to know the right,
Thro' judgment's optic guide th' illusive sight;
To let in rays on Reason's darkling cell,
And lagging mists of prejudice dispel;
For this you turn the Greek and Roman page,
Weigh the contemplative and active sage,
And cull some useful flow'r from each historic age.

 Thence teach the youth the necessary art,
To know the judge's from the critic's part;
Show how ignoble is the passion, F EAR ,
And place some patriot Roman's model near;
Their bright examples to his soul instil,
Who knew no fear, but that of doing ill.
Tell him, 'tis all a cant, a trifle all,
To know the folds that from the T OGA fall,
The C LAVUS ' breadth, the B ULLA 's golden round,
And ev'ry leaf that ev'ry V IRTUE crown'd:
But show how brighter in each honest breast,
Than o'er her shrine, the goddess stood confess'd.

 Tell him, it is not the fantastic boy,
Elate with pow'r, and swell'd with frantic joy,
'Tis not a slavish senate, fawning, base,
Can stamp with honest fame a worthless race:
Tho' the false coin proclaim him great and wise,
The tyrant's life shall tell that coin, it lyes.

 But when your early care shall have design'd
To plan the soul and mould the waxen mind;
When you shall pour upon his tender breast
Ideas that must stand an age's test,
Oh! there imprint with strongest deepest dye
The lovely form of goddess L IBERTY !
For her in senates be he train'd to plead,
For her in battles be he taught to bleed.
Lead him where Dover's rugged cliff resounds
With dashing seas, fair Freedom's honest bounds;
Point to yon azure Carr bedrop'd with gold,
Whose weight the necks of Gallia's sons uphold;
Where proudly sits an iron-scepter'd queen,
And fondly triumphs o'er the prostrate scene;
Cry, That is empire! shun her baleful path,
Her words are slavery, her touch is death!
Thro' wounds and blood the fury drives her way,
And murthers half to make the rest her prey.

 Thus spoke each Spartan matron, as she dress'd
With the bright cuirass her young soldier's breast;
On the new warrior's tender-sinew'd thigh,
Girt fear of shame and love of liberty.

 Steel'd with such precepts, for a cause so good,
What scanty bands the Persian host withstood!
Before the sons of Greece let Asia tell
How fled her Monarch, how her millions fell!
When arm'd for L IBERTY , a few how brave!
How weak a multitude, where each a slave!
No welcome falchion fill'd their fainting hand,
No voice inspir'd of favourite command:
No peasant fought for wealthy lands possess'd,
No fond remembrance warm'd the parent's breast:
They saw their lands for royal riot groan,
And toil'd in vain for banquets, not their own;
They saw their infant race to bondage rise,
And frequent heard the ravish'd virgin's cries,
Dishonour'd but to cool a transient gust
Of some luxurious Satrap's barb'rous lust.

 The greatest curses any age has known
Have issued from the temple or the throne.
Extent of ill from kings at first begins,
But priests must aid and consecrate their sins.
The tortur'd subject might be heard complain,
When sinking under a new weight of chain,
Or more rebellious might perhaps repine,
When tax'd to dow'r a titled concubine,
But the priest christens all a right divine.

 When at the altar a new monarch kneels,
What conjur'd awe upon the people steals!
The chosen HE adores the precious oil,
Meekly receives the solemn charm, and while
The priest some blessed nothings mutters o'er,
Sucks in the sacred grease at every pore:
He seems at once to shed his mortal skin,
And feels divinity transfus'd within.
The trembling vulgar dread the royal nod,
And worship God's anointed more than God.

 Such sanction gives the prelate to such kings!
So mischief from those hallow'd fountains springs.
But bend your eye to yonder harrass'd plains,
Where king and priest in one united reigns;
See fair Italia mourn her holy state,
And droop oppress'd beneath a papal weight:
Where fat celibacy usurps the soil,
And sacred sloth consumes the peasant's toil:
The holy drones monopolize the sky,
And plunder by a vow of poverty.
The Christian cause their lewd profession taints,
Unlearn'd unchaste, uncharitable saints.

 Oppression takes religion's hallow'd name,
And priestcraft knows to play the specious game.
Behold how each enthusiastic fool
Of ductile piety becomes their tool:
Observe with how much art, what fine pretence
They hallow foppery and combat sense.

 Some hoary hypocrite, grown old in sin,
Whose thoughts of heav'n with his last hours begin,
Counting a chaplet with a bigot care,
And mumbling somewhat 'twixt a charm and pray'r,
Hugs a dawb'd image of his injur'd lord,
And squeezes out on the dull idol-board
A sore-ey'd gum of tears; the flannel crew
With cunning joy the fond repentance view,
Pronounce him bless'd, his miracles proclaim,
Teach the flight croud t' adore his hallow'd name,
Exalt his praise above the saints of old,
And coin his sinking conscience into gold.

 Or when some pontiff with imperious hand
Sends forth his edict to excise the land,
The tortur'd hind unwillingly obeys,
And mutters curses as his mite he pays!
The subtle priest th' invidious name forbears,
Asks it for holy use or venal pray'rs;
Exhibits all their trumpery to sale,
A bone, a mouldy morsel, or a nail:
Th' idolatrous devout adore the show,
And in full streams the molten off'rings flow.

 No pagan object, nothing too profane
To aid the Romish zeal for christian gain.
Each temple with new weight of idols nods,
And borrow'd altars smoke to other gods.
P ROMETHEUS ' vultur M ATTHEW 's eagle proves,
And heav'nly cherubs sprout from heathen loves;
Young G ANYMEDE a winged angel stands
By holy L UKE , and dictates God's commands:
A POLLO tho' degraded, still can bless,
Rewarded with a sainthood, and an S.
Each convert godhead is apostoliz'd,
And J OVE himself by P ETER 's name baptiz'd;
A STARTE shines in Jewish M ARY 's fame,
Still queen of heav'n, another and the same.

 While the proud priest the sacred tyrant reigns
Of empty cities and dispeopled plains,
Where fetter'd nature is forbid to rove
In the free commerce of productive love.
Behold imprison'd with her barren kind,
In gloomy cells the votive maid confin'd;
Faint streams of blood, by long stagnation weak,
Scarce tinge the fading damask of her cheek;
In vain she pines, the holy faith withstands
What nature dictates and what God commands.
But if some sanguine he, some lusty priest
Of jollier morals taste the tempting feast,
From the strong grasp if some poor babe arise,
Unwelcome, unindear'd, it instant dies,
Or poisons blasting soon the hasty joy,
Th' imperfect seeds of infant life destroy.

 Fair modesty, thou virgin tender-ey'd,
From thee the muse the grosser acts must hide,
Nor the dark cloister's mystic rites display,
Whence num'rous brawny monkhoods waste away,
And unprolific, tho' forsworn, decay.

 B RITANNIA smiling views her golden plains
From mitred bondage free and papal chains.
Her jocund sons pass each unburthen'd day
Securely quiet, innocently gay:
Lords of themselves the happy rustics sing,
Each of his little tenement the king.
Twice did usurping Rome extend her hand,
To re-inslave the new-deliver'd land:
Twice were her sable bands to battle warm'd,
With pardons, bulls, and texts, and murthers arm'd:
With P ETER 's sword and M ICHAEL 's lance were sent,
And whate'er stores supply'd the church's armament.
Twice did the gallant Albion race repel
The jesuit legions to the gates of hell;
Or whate'er angel, friend to Britain, took
Or W ILLIAM 's or E LIZA 's guardian look.

 Arise, young peer! shine forth in such a cause!
Who draws the sword for freedom, justly draws.
Reflect how dearly was that freedom bought;
For that, how oft your ancestors have fought;
Thro' the long series of our princes down,
How wrench'd some right from each too potent crown.

 See abject John , that vassal monarch, see!
Bow down the royal neck, and crouch the supple knee!
Oh! prostitution of imperial state!
To a vile Romish priest's vile delegate!
Him the bold barons scorning to obey,
And be the subjects of a subject sway;
Heroes, whose names to latest fame shall shine,
Aw'd by no visions of a right divine,
That bond by eastern politicians wrought,
Which ours have learnt, and rabbi doctors taught,
To straiter banks restrain'd the royal will,
That great prerogative of doing ill.

 To late example and experience dead,
See H ENRY in his father's footsteps tread.
To young to govern, immature to pow'r,
His early follies haunt his latest hour.
His nobles injur'd, and his realms oppress'd,
No violated senate's wrongs redress'd,
His hoary age sinks in the feeble wane
Of an inglorious, slighted, tedious reign.

 The muse too long with idle glories fed,
And train'd to trumpet o'er the warlike dead,
The wanton fain on giddy plumes would soar
To Gallic Loire and Jordan's humbled shore;
Again would teach the Saracen and Gaul
At E DWARD 's and at H ENRY 's name to fall;
Romantic heroes! prodigal of blood;
What numbers stain'd each ill-disputed flood!
Tools to a clergy! warring but to feast
With spoils of provinces each pamper'd priest.
Be dumb, fond maid; thy sacred ink nor spill
On specious tyrants, popularly ill:
Nor be thy comely locks with roses dight
Of either victor colour, red or white.

 Foil'd the assassin king, in union blow
The blended flowers on seventh H ENRY 's brow.
Peace lights again on the forsaken strand,
And banish'd plenty re-assumes the land.
No nodding crest the crouching infant frights,
No clarion rudely breaks the bride's delights;
Reposing sabres seek their ancient place
To bristle round a gaping Gorgon's face.
The weary'd arms grotesquely deck the wall,
And tatter'd trophies fret the royal hall.
But peace in vain on the blood-fatten'd plains
From a redundant horn her treasure rains!
She deals her gifts; but in a useless hour,
To glut the iron hand of griping pow'r:
Such L ANCASTER , whom harrass'd Britain saw,
Mask'd in the garb of antiquated law:
More politic than wise, more wise than great;
A legislator to enslave the state;
Cooly malicious; by design a knave;
More mean than false, ambitious more than brave;
Attach'd to interest's more than honour's call;
More strict than just, more covetous than all.

 Not so the reveller profuse, his son,
His contrast course of tyranny begun;
Robust of limb, and flush'd with florid grace,
Strength nerv'd his youth, and squar'd his jovial face.
To feats of arms and carpet-combats prone,
In either field the vig'rous monarch shone:
Mark'd out for riot each luxurious day
In tournaments and banquets danc'd away.
But shift the scene, and view what slaughters stain
Each frantic period of his barb'rous reign:
A tyrant to the people whom he rul'd,
By ev'ry potentate he dealt with, fool'd;
Sold by one minister, to all unjust;
Sway'd by each dictate of distemper'd lust;
Changing each worship that controul'd the bent
Of his adult'rous will, and lewd intent;
Big in unweildy majesty and pride,
And smear'd with queens and martyrs blood, he dy'd.

 Pass we the pious youth too slightly seen;
The murd'rous zeal of a weak Romish queen:
Nor with faint pencil, impotently vain,
Shadow the glories of E LIZA 's reign,
Who still too great, tho' some few faults she had,
To catalogue with all those royal bad.

 Arise! great J AMES ! thy course of wisdom run!
Image of David's philosophic son!
He comes! on either hand in seemly state,
Knowledge and Peace his fondled handmaids wait:
Obscurely learn'd, elaborately dull,
Of qubbling cant and grace fanatic full,
Thron'd in full senates, on his pedant tongue,
These for six hours each weighty morning hung.
For these each string of royal pow'r he strain'd,
For these he sold whate'er E LIZA gain'd;
For these he squander'd ev'ry prudent store
The srugal princess had reserv'd before,
On pension'd sycophants and garter'd boys,
Tools of his will, and minions of his joys.
For these he let his beggar'd daughter roam;
Bubbled for these by Spanish art at home;
For these, to sum the blessings of his reign,
Poison'd one son, and t'other sent to Spain.

 Retire, strict muse, and thy impartial verse
In pity spare on C HARLES 's bleeding herse;
Or all his faults in blackest note, translate
To tombs where rot the authors of his fate;
To lustful H ENRIETTA 's Romish shade
Let all his acts of lawless pow'r be laid;
Or to the priest more Romish still than her;
And whoe'er made his gentle virtues err.

 On the next prince expell'd his native land
In vain affliction laid her iron hand;
Fortune, or fair or frowning, on his soul
Could stamp no virtue, and no vice controul;
Honour, or morals, gratitude, or truth,
Nor learn'd his ripen'd age, nor knew his youth;
The care of nations left to whores or chance,
Plund'rer of Britain, pensioner of France;
Free to Buffoons, to ministers deny'd,
He liv'd an atheist, and a bigot dy'd.

 The reins of empire, or resign'd or stole,
Are trusted next to J AMES 's weak controul.
Him, meditating to subvert the laws,
His hero son in freedom's beauteous cause
Rose to chastise: unhappy still! howe'er
Posterity the gallant action bear.

 Thus have I try'd of kings and priests to sing,
And all the woes that from their vices spring;
While victor G EORGE thunders o'er either Spain,
Revenges Britain and asserts the main;
To willing Indians deals our equal laws,
And from his country's voice affects applause;
What time fair Florence on her peaceful shore,
Free from the din of war and battle's roar,
Has lap'd me trifler in inglorious ease,
Modelling precepts that may serve and please;
Yours is the task——and glorious is the plan,
To build the free, the sensible, GOOD MAN .