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To Newton's genius and immortal fame,
POEM ON SIR ISAAC NEWTON. Till some kind angel, at Heav'n's high command,
Rollid back the rising tides, and haughty floods, ORIGINALLY PREFIXED TO PEMBERTON'S view
And to the ocean thunder'd out his voice:
The foaming billows, and obscuring surge,
Back to their channels and their ancient seats Th' advent'rous Muse with treinbling pinions soars. Recoil affrighted: from the darksome main Thou, heav'nly Truth, from thy seraphic throne Earth raises smiling, as new-born, her head, Look favourable down, do thou assist
And with fresh charms her lovely face arrays. My lab'ring thought, do thou inspire my song. So his extensive thought accomplish'd first Newton, who first th’ Almighty's works display'd, The mighty task to drive th' obstructing mists And smooth'd that mirror, in whose polish'd face Of Ignorance away, beneath whose gloom The great Creator now conspicuous shines; Th’unshrouded majesty of Nature lay. Who opend Nature's adamantine gates,
He drew the veil, and swellid the spreading scene.
Till his invention trac'd her secret steps,
Or, when conspicuous, smiles upon mankind, The Stagyrite, and Syracusian sage,
Unveiling all her night-rejoicing charms. Prom black obscurity's abyss to raise,
When thus the silver-tressed Moon dispels (Drooping and mourning o'er thy wondrous works) The frowning horrours from the brow of Night, With vain inquiry sought. Like meteors these And with her splendours cheers the sullen gloom, In their dark age bright sons of Wisdom shone: While sable-mantled Darkness with his veil But at thy Newton all thy laurels fade,
The visage of the fair horizon shades,
While sleep sits heavy on the drowsy world,
Where darksome woods around their gloomy brows Th' original of things, long lay unknown.
Bow low, and ev'ry hill's protended shade Alone the beauties prominent to sight
Obscures the dusky vale, there silent dwell, (Of the celestial pow'r the outward form)
Where Contemplation holds its still abode, Drew praise and wonder from the gazing world. There trace the wide and pathless void of heav'n, As when the deluge overspread the Earth,
And count the stars that sparkle on its robe. Whilst yet the mountains only rear'd their heads Or else, in Fancy's wildring mazes lost, Above the surface of the wild expanse,
l'pon the verdure see the fairy elves Whelu'd deep below the great foundation lay, Dance o'er their magic circles, or behold,
In thought enraptur'd with the ancient bards, Lest humid emanations should no more
Flow from the ocean, but dissolve away
By which the air supplies the springs of life;
Thou hast the fiery-visag'd comets form’d
Which they abundant breathe about the void,
When comets blaze tremendous from on high,
Or when extending wide their flaming trains
For these through orbits in the length'oing space
And with the planets in harmonious orbs,
And mystic periods their obeisance pay Now they contract their waters, and expose
To bim MAJESTIC RULER OF THE SKIES,
Upon his throne of circled glory fix'd.
The universe exists. Nor here the sage
That re-inspired she may sing to thee,
How diff'rent and embodied colours form
When penetrating to th' obscure recess
The power that separates the diff'rent beams.
Hence over Nature's unadorned face
In its fair vesture of unnumber'd hues
The Morning, risen from her pearly couch, And deign'd to his enlighten'd mind t'appear With rosy blushes decks her virgin cheek: Confess'd around th' interminated world:
The Ev'ning on the frontispiece of Heav'n To me, O thy divine infusion grant,
His mantle spreads with many colours gay: (O thou in all so infinitely good)
The midday skies in radiant azure clad, That I may sing thy everlasting works,
The shining clouds, and silver vapours rob'd
In white transparent intermixt with gold,
When hoary-headed Winter back retires
Encompass'd round with winds and tempests bleak
Like a new Venus froin the parting surge
The gay-apparell'd Spring advances on; Mars taught thee war, and with his bloody hand
The yell of discord, and the din of arms.
Pindar, when mounted on his fiery steed, And o'er Thessalia's plain extend her view, Soars to the Sun, opposing, eagle-like, And count, O Tempé, all thy beauties o'er. His eyes undazzled to the fiercest rays. Mountains, whose summits grasp the pendant clouds, He firmly seated, not like Glaucus' son, Between their wood-envelop'd slopes embrace Strides his swift-winged and fire-breathing horse, The green attir'd vallies. Every flow'r
And borne aloft strikes with his ringing hoofs Here in the pride of bounteous Nature clad, The brazen vault of Heav'n, superior there Smiles on the bosom of th' enamellid meads. Looks down upon the stars, whose radiant light Over the smiling lawn the silver floods
Illuminates innumerable worlds,
That through eternal orbits roll beneath.
To whom Apollo gave his tuneful lyre !
He taught the Muse, how sound progressive floats Apparell's each in Phoebus bright attire:
Upon the waving particles of air, Or from afar some tall majestic ship,
When harmony in ever-pleasing strains, Or the long hostile lines of threat'ning fleets, Melodious melting at each lulling fall, Which o'er the bright uneven mirror sweep, With soft alluring penetration steals In dazzling gold, and waving purple deck'd; Through the euraptur'd ear to inmost thought, Sach as of old when haughty Athens pour
And folds the senses in its silken bands. Their hideous front and terrible array
So the sweet music, which from Orpheus' touch, Against Pallene's coasť extended wide,
And fam’d Amphion's, on the sounding string
Pierc'd the tough-bark'd and knotty-ribbed woods,
And taught attention to the stubborn oak. Aloft exalting proud their gilded heads,
Thus when great Henry, and brave Marlb'rough led The silver waves against the painted prows
Th'embattled numbers of Britannia's sons, Raise their resplendent bosoms, and impearl The trump, that swells th' expanded cheek of Fame, The fair vermilion with their glist’ring drops: That adds new vigour to the gen'rous youth, And from on board the iron-clothed host
And rouses sluggish cowardice itself, Around the main a gleaming horrour cast; The trumpet, with its Mars-inciting voice Each flaming buckler like the midday Sun, The wind's broad breast impetuous sweeping o'er, Each plumed helmet like the silver Moon, Fillid the big note of war. Th’inspir'd host Each moving gauntlet like the lightning's blaze, With new-born ardour press the trembling Gaul; And like a star each brazen pointed spear. Nor greater throngs had reach'd eternal night, But lo! the sacred, high-erected fanes,
Not if the fields of Agincourt had yawn'd, Fair citadels, and marble-crowned towers,
Exposing horrible the gulf of Fate; And sumptuous palaces of stately towns
Or roaring Dauube spread his arms abroad, Magnificent arise, upon their heads
And overwhelmld their legions with his floods. Bearing on high a wreath of silver light.
But let the wand'ring Muse at length return; But see, my Muse, the high Pierian hill,
Nor yet, angelic genius of the Sun,
In worthy lays her high-attempting song
Again, again o'er each melodious string
Teach harmony to tremble with thy praise. Through mazes wander down the green descent, And still thine ear, O favourable grant, And sparkle through the interwoven trees. And she shall tell thee, that whatever charms Here rest awhile, and humble homage pay, Whatever beauties bloom on Nature's face, Here, where the sacred genius, that inspir'd Proceed from thy all-influencing light. Sublime Mæonides, and Pindar's breast,
That when arising with tempestuous rage, His habitation once was fam'd to hold.
The North, impetuons, rides upon the clouds Here, thou, O Homer, offer'dst up thy vows; Dispensing round the Heav'ns obstructive glooma Thee, the kind Muse Calliopæa heard,
And with his dreaded prohibition stays And led thee to the empyrean seats,
The kind effusion of thy genial beams : There manifested to thy hallow'd eyes
Pale are the rubies on Aurora's lips, The deeds of gods; thee wise Minerva taught No more the roses blush upon her cheeks, The wondrous art of knowing human kind; Black are Peneus' streams and golden sands; Harmonious Phæbus tun'd thy heav'nly mind, In Tempe's vale dull Melancholy sits, And swell’d to rapture each exalted sense ; And ev'ry flower reclines its languid head. Even Mars, the dreadful battle-ruling god, By what high name shall I invoke thee, sayı
Thou life-infusing deity, on thee
Th’Egyptian towers, the Babylonian walls, I call, and look propititious from on high,
And Thebes, with all her hundred gates of brass, While now to thee I offer up my prayer.
Behold them scatter'd like the dust abroad.
Euphrates' stream, and seven-mouthed Nile, Discover'd what that subtle spirit is,
And Danube, thou that from Germania's soil Or whatsoe'er diffusive else is spread
To the black Euxine's far remoted shore, Over the wide extended universe,
O'er the wide bounds of mighty nations sweep'st Which causes bodies to reflect the light,
In thunder loud thy rapid floods along. And from their straight direction to divert
Ev'n you shall feel inexorable time: The rapid beams, that through their surface pierce. To you the fatal day shall come; no more But since embrac'd by th’icy arms of age, Your torrents then shall shake the trembling ground, And his quick thought byTime's cold hand congeald, No longer then to inundations swoll'n, Ev'n Newton left unknown this hidden power: Th’imperious waves the fertile pastures drench, Thou from the race of human kind select
But shrunk within a narrow channel glide; Some other worthy of an angel's care,
Or through the year's reiterated course, (streams, With inspiration animate his breast,
When Time himself grows old, your wondrous And him instruct in these thy secret laws.
Lost ev'n to memory, shall lie unknown O let not Newton, to whose spacious view,
Beneath obscurity and chaos whelm’d. Now unobstructed, all th' extensive scenes
But still thou, Sun, illuminatest all
The azure regions round, thou guidest still
The Moon still wanders o'er her changing course, Like a fond mother, solitary sit,
And still, O Newton, shall thy name survive Lamenting him, her dear, and only child.
As long as Nature's band directs the world, But as the wise Pythagoras, and he,
When ev'ry dark obstruction shall retire, Whose birth with pride the fam'd Abdera boasts, And ev'ry secret yield its hidden store, With expectation having long survey'd
Which thee dim-sighted age forbade to see, This spot, their ancient seat, with joy beheld Age that alone could stay tảy rising soul. Divine Philosophy at length appear
And could mankind among the fixed stars, In all her charms majestically fair,
Ev'n to th' extremest bounds of knowledge reach, Conducted by immortal Newton's hand :
To those unknown, innumerable suns, So may he see another sage arise,
Whose light but glimmers from those distant worlds, That shall maintain her empire: tben no more Ev'n to those utmost boundaries, those bars Imperious Ignorance with haughty sway
That shut the entrance of th' illumiu'd space, Shall stalk rapacious o'er the ravag'd globe: Where angels only tread the vast unknown, Then thou, O Newton, shalt protect these lines, Thou ever shouldst be seen immortal there : The humble tribute of the grateful Muse;
In each new sphere, each new-appearing sun, Ne'er shall the sacrilegious hand despoil
In furthest regions at the very verge
And lo! th' all-potent goddess, Nature, takes
With her own hand thy great, thy just reward Time should receive her with extended arms, Of immortality; aloft in air Seat her conspicuous in his rolling car,
See she displays, and with eternal grasp And bear her down to his extremest bound.
Uprears the trophies of great Newton's fame.
ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST,
As near Porto-Bello' lying
On the gently swelling flood, When thou before us, Newton, dost display
At midnight with streamers flying,
Our triumphant navy rode;
'The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetiNor dreadful bearing in his angry arm
cally represented, was briefly, this. In April, 1726, The thunder hanging o'er our trembling heads; that commander was sent with a strong fleet into But with th' effulgency of love replete,
the Spanish West Indies, to block up the galleons And clad with power, which form'd th’ extensive in the ports of that country, or should they preHeav'ns.
sume to come out, to seize and carry them into O happy he, whose enterprising hand
England: he accordingly arrived at the Basti. Unbars the golden and relucid gates
mentos near Porto-Bello, but being restricted by Of th' empyrean dome, where thou enthron'd, his orders from obeying the dictates of his couPhilosophy, art seated. Thou, sustain'd
rage, lay inactive on that station until he became By the firm hand of everlasting Truth,
the jest of the Spaniards: he afterwards removed Despisest all the injuries of Time:
to Carthagena, and continued cruizing in these Thou never know'st decay when, all around, seas, till far the greater part of his men perished Antiquity obscures her head. Behold
deplorably by the diseases of that uuhealtby cli
There wbile Vernon sat all-glorious
“ Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying, From the Spaniard's late defeat;
And her galleons leading home, And his crews, with shouts victorious,
Though condemn’d for disobeying, Drank success to England's fleet:
I had met a traitor's doom ;
To have fall’n, my country crying On a sudden shrilly sounding,
He has play'd an English part, Hideous yells and shrieks were heard :
Had been better far than dying
Of a griev'd and broken heart.
“ Unrepining at thy glory, Which for winding-sheets they wore,
Thy successful arms we hail;
But remember our sad story, And with looks by sorrow clouded;
And let Hosier's wrongs prevail. Frowning on that hostile shore.
Sent in this foul clime to languish,
Think what thousands fell in vain, On them gleam'd the Moon's wan lustre,
Wasted with disease and anguish,
Not in glorious battle slain.
“ Hence, with all my train attending O'er the glimm'ring wave he hy'd him,
From their oozy tombs below, Where the Burford rear'd her sail,
Through the hoary foam ascending, With three thousand ghosts beside him,
Here I feed my constant woe: And in groans did Vernon hail.
Here the Bastimentos viewing,
We recall our shameful doom, “ Heed, 0 heed, our fatal story,
And our plaintive cries renewing,
Wander through the midnight gloom.
“ O'er these waves for ever mourning Though in Porto-Bello's ruin
Shall we roam depriv'd of rest, You now triumph free from fears,
If to Britain's shores returning, When you think on our undoing,
You neglect my just request. You will mix your joy with tears.
After this proud foe subduing,
When your patriot friends you see, “ See these mournful spectres, sweeping
Think on vengeance for my ruin, Ghastly o'er this hated wave,
And for England sham'd in me." Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping;
These were English captains brave:
THE PROGRESS OF COMMERCE. “ 1, by twenty sail attended, Did this Spanish town affright:
Ye northern blasts, and Eurus', wont to sweep Nothing then its wealth defended
With rudest pinions o'er the furrow'd waves, But my orders not to fight :
Awhile suspend your violence, and waft O! that in tbis rolling ocean
From sandy Weser 2 and the broad-mouth'd Elb I had cast them with disdain,
My freighted vessels to the destin'd shore, And obey'd my heart's warm motion,
Safe o'er th' unrufed main ; let every thought, To have quelld the pride of Spain.
Which may disquiet and alarm my breast,
Be absent now; that, dispossess'd of care, ti Por resistance I could fear none,
And free from every tumult of the mind,
With each disturbing passion hush'd so peace, But with twenty ships had done What thou, brave and happy Vernon,
I may pour all my spirit on the theme, Hast achiev'd with six alone.
Which opens now before me, and demands Then the Bastimentos never
The loftiest strain. The eagle, when he tow'rs Had our foul dishonour seen,
Beyond the clouds, the fleecy robes of Heav'n, Nor the sea the sad receiver
Disdains all objects but the golden Sun,
Full on th' effulgent orb directs his eye, Of this gallant train had been.
And sails exulting through the blaze of day;
So, while her wing attempts the boldest fight, mate. This brave, man, seeing his best officers Rejecting each inferior theme of praise, and men thus daily swept away, his ships exposed Thee, ornament of Europe, Albion's pride, to inevitable destruction, and himself made the Fair seat of wealth and freedom, thee my Muse sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a bro- Shall celebrate, O London: thee she hails. ken heart. , See Smollet's Hist.
Thou lov'd abode of Commerce, last retreat, The following song is commonly accompanied with a second part, or answer, which, being of in
1 The east wind. ferior merit, and apparently written by another
2 Bremen is situated on the Weser, and Hamhand, hath been rejected. Percy.
burgh on the Elb, VOL XVII.