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Wolcot
A Complimentary Epistle to James 3ruce
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD
ENDOWMENT FUND
A
COMPLIMENTARY EPISTLE
T O
JAMES BRUCE, Efq.
THE ABYSSINIAN TRAVELLER:
By PETERPINDAR Efq.
Non Fabula mendax.
Wonders ! — Wonders ! ! — Winders ! ! !
THE THIRD EDITION.
LONDON:
Printed for G. KEARSLEY, Fleet-Street, mdcclxc.
[entered at fceatfoon*' ©ail.]
TRICE TWO SHILLINGS AND S1X.PENV
~Wnc<r
EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
ILLUSTRIOUS SIR,
T)ERMIT a poor fun of Apollo to make an offering cf his
■** Pamphlet (a fort of widow's mite), for the pleafure received
from your five quartos. Aware of the dangers of launching into
the foaming fea of ufual dedication, in which many an unfortunate
author has been drowned, I tremble at my prefent attempt. Ex-
alted panegyric too frequently incurs the fufpicion of a fneer.
Tour dedication, illuftrious Sir, to the heft of kings, flrikes me
as the mo ft perfect model of imitation — it is a column of Attic
elegance and fimplicity, erected to a deferving monarch. Pray,
Sir, did his auguft Maj fifty honour it with a perufal before pub-
lication ? It truly forms the ne phis ultra of human panegyric;
and what is marvellous, cannot be fufpccted of adulation. Pray,
Sir, how much might his Majefty give you for it ?
What a fnnilarity, illuftrious Sir, between yourfelf and Mr.
James Bqsweul ; and yet what a diftance ! Doth glorioufly am-
bitious, both great fcholars, both intellectually adorned, both
popular gentlemen, both dealer^ in hiftory, and both defcended
from kings! But Mr. James Boswell's ambition was not of Co
bold a wing as yours. He was content with a journey to Scot-
land, to exhibit Dr. Samuel Johnson, the Lexicog to
the literati of that country. Tour more exalted ideas could only
be fatisfied With a dlfplay cf the head quarters of the immortal
Nile,
83G
( " )
Nile, who had puzzled the purfuits of men for {even thoufand
years. W hi 111 Mr. Boswell entertains only with a breakfaft
on fpaldings [alias dried whitings), the fublimer Bruce treats
us with a dim of lion. Whilft Boswell brings us acquainted
with plain Scottifli gentlewomen only, the gallant Bruce charms
us with romantic tales of Queen Sittinia, &c. Whilft Mr.
Boswell prefents us only with an anecdote of a flannel night-
cap, made by Mifs M'Leod, for the Doctor's bald head ; the fub-
limer Bruce tells of a piece of fatin, and fix handfome crimfon
and green handkerchiefs, moil: gallantly tranfmitted to the beauti-
ful Aiscach, of Teawa. Whilft Mr. Boswell amufes us only
with his drunken bout, and tonfecjuenriy a fimple emetic fcene,
the foaring Bruce greets us with the more important hiftory of a
thundering Diarrhea. Whilft Mr. Boswell prides himfelf
only upon his defcent from a Scottifli King, the penetrating
Bruce difcovers an origin from King Solomon and the Queen
of Sheba ; which, under the rofe, mult be cftablifhing a baftardy
in the family, as the Abyffinian Queen could be nothing more than
Solomon's concubine, their marriage having never been proved.
Pray, Sir, what may his Mgefry intend to do with your inva-
lable Drawings, &c. 6cc. ? Are they to be engraved, pro bono
publico, at the expence of the royal purfe j or kept cautioujly locked
wd in a drawer at Buckingham-houle, to induce the dilettanti to
iigh for the publication ? Poffibly they are deftined to be a
pofthumous work of the greateft of Kings; but not like pofthu-
mous works in general, to difgrace the dead.
I am, Illustrious Sir,
p. p.
COMPLIMENTARY EPISTLE.
OWEET is the tale, however ftrange its air,
That bids the public eye ajlonied Hare !
Sweet is the tale, howe'er uncouth its fhape,
That makes the world's wide mouth with wonder gape J
Behold our infancies in tales delight,
That bolt like hedgehog quills the hair upright*
Of ghofts how pleas'd is ev'ry child to hear !
To fuch is Jack the giant-killer dear !
B Dread
( 2 )
Dread monfters iHuing from the flame or flood,
Charm, tho' with horror cloath'd they chill the blood!
Wliat makes a tale fo fleepy, languid, dull ?
Things as they happened — not of marvel full.
What gives a zeft, and keeps alive attention?
A tale that wears the vifage of invention :
A tale Qf lions, fpeftres, fhipwreck, thunder \
A wonder, or firft coufm to a wonder.
Myflerious condu£l ! yet 'tis Nature's plan
To fow with wonder's feeds the foul of man,
That ev'ry where in fweet profufion rife,
And fprout luxuriant through the mouth and eyes !
What to the vafty deep * Sir Joseph gave,
As of the world, the fport of wind and wave ?
• Sir Jofeph Banks. What
( 3 )
What bade the Knight amid thofe fcenes remote,
Sleep with Queen Oborea in the boat ?
What unconfounded leap to Newton's chair ?
What, but to make a world with wonder ftare ?
What bids a on Wimbledon, Blackheath,
So oft rejoice the regiments of death ;
While Britain's mightier bulwark flighted lies,
And vainly groaning for its Caefar fighs ?
What with the vulgar pigs of Afcot taken,
Devour on Afcot-heath his annual bacon?
What bade that great, great man, a goodly fight,
Watch his wife's di'mond petticoat all night ;
And what that wife of great, great, great renown,
Make her own caps, and darn a thread-bare gown ?
What
( 4 )
What bade the charming * Lady Mary fly
Marchesi's fqueeze for Pacchierotti's figh?
"What Master Edgecumbe deal in rhiming ware?
What, but to put all J Cawfand in a flare ?
Sweet child of verfe, who with importance big,
Pleas'd its own felf, and eterniz'd a pig ; *
Whilft mad an equal weight of praife to fhare,
Old Mount plays Punchenello to a hair.
What makes a girl the {hops for novels rove?
The fweet impoffibilities of love ;
* Lady Mary Duncan.
A fmall fifhing town near Mount Edgecumbe.
t This pig, Cupid, who many years ago fell in love with the Earl, has a monument
creeled to his memory, with an infeription on it by Lord Valletort, the Earl's fon. —
It is faid, that His Majcfly, when at Mount Edgecumbe, happening to be gravely pon-
dering near his grave, the Queen, who was at fome diftance, afked him, what he was
looking at fo ferioufly. His Majefty, with a great deal of humour, immediately replied,
"The family vault, Charlyj family vault, family vault."
Quixotic
( 5 )
Quixotic deeds to catch the flying fair;
To pant at dangers, and at marvels flare.
What prompteth Chloe, confcious of the charms
That croud the fouls of fwains with wild alarms,
To give the fwelling bofom's milk-white fkin
A veil of gauze fo marveloufly thin ?
What but a kind intention of the fair
To treat the eyes of fhepherds with a flare ?
Behold ! Religion's felf, celeflial dame,
Founds on the rock of miracle her fame :
A facred building, that defies decay,
That fin's wild waves can never wafh away !
What made * John Rolle (except for Exon's flare)
Drill-ferjeant to the aldermen and may'r ;
E'er
* Mr. John Rolle's dread of a failure in the etiquette of preferment to his Ma-
in at Exeter, prevailed on him to take a deal of troubl gentlemen
( o )
E'er from the hall he led his chofen bands,
To view the King of Nations, and kifs hands :
How rarely man the haunts of wifdom feeks,
Pleas'd with the life of cabbages and leeks !
Tho' form'd to plough the foil, divinely ftrong ?
'Tis famine goads him, like an ox, along:
But Bruce, on curiofitys wild wings,
Darts, hawk-like, where the game of marvel fprings,
Let envy kindle with the blufh of fhame,
That dares to call thee, Bruce, a thief of fame.
■ to be introduced at the Levee : but, in fpite of all his intellectual powers, which,
like his corporeal, are of more than ordinary texture, much diforder happened ; indeed
the beft of kings was three or four times nearly overturned. Many were the gentle-
men that Mr. Rolle was forced to place himfelf behind, to pull down properly on
their knees ; and many were the gentlemen he was obliged to run after, and make face
to the right about, who uncourteoufly, though unwittingly, in quitting the prefencc,
bad turned their unpolifhcd tails on maje
Pleas'd
( 7 )
Pleas'd to thy wonder's vortex to be drawn,
A thoufand volumes could not make me yawn:
And (O accept a falutary hint) —
The world will read as faft as thou canfl: print.
Curs'd by the goofe's and the critic's quill,
What tortures tear us, and what horrors thrill !
Thus that fmall imp, a tooth, a fimple bone,
Can make fair ladies and great heroes groan ;
Tear hopelefs virgins from their happy dream,
And bid for do6tors 'Head of fweethearts fcream ;
In tears the tender tofTmg infant fleep,
And from its eyelids brufh the dews of fleep;
Where, with a cheek in cherub blufhes dreft,
It feeks, with fruitlefs cries, its vaniih'd reft.
Far diff'rent, Thou, ere£t in confcious pride,
ColofTal dar'ft the critic hofl beftride ;
D Like
( 8 )
Like yelping coward curs canft make them (kip,
And tremble at the thunder of thy whip.
How hard that thou, a bufy working bee,
Shouldft range from flow'r to flow'r, from tree to tree ;
Fly loaded home from fhrubs of richeft prime,
Egyptian, Nubian, Abyffinian thyme,
And plund'ring * drones upon thine honey thrive,
Who never gave an atom to the hive !
Huge Whale of marvel-hunters, further fay,
And glad the prefent and the future day ;
Speak ! did no angel, proud to intervene,
Bear thee, like Habbakuk, from fcene to fcene?
Lo ! moon-ey'd Wonder opes her lap to thee :
How niggardly, alas! to lucklefs me!
' [r. Brace's Travels.
Where'er
( 9 )
Where'er through tracklefs woods thy luckier way.
Marvels, like dew-drops, beam on ev'ry fpray.
Bleft man ! whate'er thou wifheft to behold,
Nature as ftrongly wifhes to unfold;
Of all her wardrobe offers every rag,
Of which thy fkill hath form'd a conj'ror's bag.
Thy deeds are giants, covering ours with fhame !
Poor wafted pigmies ! (keletons of fame !
To thee how kindly hath thy genius giv'n
The maffy keys of yonder ftar-clad heav'n ;
With leave, whene'er thou wifheft to unlock it,
To put a few eclipfes in thy pocket !
Nature, where'er thou tread'ft, exalts her form;
The whifp'ring zephyr fwells a howling ftorm ;
Where pebbles lay, and riv'lets purl'd before,
Huge promontories rife, and oceans roar.
Thrice
( io )
Thrice envy'd man (if truth each volume Tings),
Thy life how happy! hand and glove with kings !
A fimple fwain, a ftranger to a throne,
I ne'er fat down with kings to pick a bone !
For fmiles I gap'd not, crouch'd not for affiftance ;
But paid my falutations at a diftance :
Yet live, O Kings, to fee a diflant date,
Becaufe I've got a pretty good eftate ;
A comely fpot near Helicon, that thrives ;
A leafehold tho', that hangs upon their lives ;
Set to George Kearsley, at a moderate rent ;
Enough for me, poor fwain, it brings content.
Were heav'n to place a crown upon my head,
So meek, fo modeft, 1 fhould faint with dread:,
And like fome honeft bifhop, with a figh,
" Pity my greatnefs, Lord !" would be my cry.
Poets,
( It )
Poets, like fpiders, now-a-days muft fpin,
E'en from them/elves, the threads of life fo thin.
Nought pleafeth now the rulers of great nations,
But books of wonders, and fweet dedications.
Kings, like the mountains of the moon, indeed,.
Proud of their ftature, lift a lofty head ;
Heads, like the mountains alfo, cold and raw,
That, ice-envelop'd, feldom feel a thaw.
O may the worft of ills my foul betide,
For me if ever love-fick lady dy'd !
If fatal darts from thefe two eyes of mine,
Play'd havock with fair ladies hearts, like thine:
No, no ! I ever a hard bargain drove,
And purchas'd ev'ry atom of my love.
O Bri-cf-
( 12 )
O Bruce, I awn, all candour, that I look
With envy, downright envy, on thy book ;
A book like Pfalmanazar's, form'd to laft,
That gives th' hiftoric eye a fweet repaft ;
A book like Mandeville's, that yields delight,
And puts poor probability to flight ;
A book that e'en Pontopidan would own ;
A book moft humbly offered to the throne ;
A book, how happy, which the King of Ifles
Admires (fays rumour), and receiv'd with fmiles I
The fool, with equal gape, aftonifh'd fees,
Through Wonder's glafles, elephants, and fleas ;
But thou, in Wonder's fchool long bred, full grown,
Art pleas'd indeed with elephants alone :
Hadft
( '3 )
Hadft thou been God, an infult to thy fight,
Thy majefty had fcorn'd to make a mite.
Know, where th' Atlantic holds th' unwieldy whale,
My heart had panted at the monftef s tail :
Had Bruce been there, th' invincible, the brave,
How had he dafh'd at once beneath the wave !
Bold with his dirk the mighty fi(h purfu'd,
And ftain'd whole leagues of ocean with his blood*
Then rifing glorious from the great attack,
Grac'd with the wat'ry tyrant on his back !
'Mid thofe fair * iiles, the happy iiles of old,
Plains that the ghofts of kings and chiefs patrol'd,
* The Canaries, or the Infulae Fortunate of the Ancients.
E Thefe
( 14 )
Thefe eyes have feen ; but, let me truth confefs,
No royal fpecTre came thefe eyes to blefs :
To no one chieftain-phantom too, I vow,
With rev'rence, did I ever make my bow :
Gone to make room, poor ghofts, fo Fate inclines,
For gangs of lazy Spaniards and their vines.
But had thy foot, illuftrious Traveler, trod,
Like me, the precincls of th 5 Elyfian fod ;
Full of enquiry, eafy, unconfounded,
By fpeclres hadfl: thou quickly been furrounded ;
Then had we heard thy book of wonder boaft,
How Bruce the brave fhook hands with ev'ry ghoft !
In vain did I phoenomena purfue,
For Wonder waits upon the chofen few.
Whatever
( *5 )
Whate'er I faw requir'd no witch's ftorm —
Slight deeds, that nature could with eafe perform !
Audacious, to purloin my fleih and nfh,
No golden eagles hopp'd into my difli.
Nor crocodiles, by love of knowledge led,
To mark my figure, left their oozy bed ;
Nor loaded camels, to provoke my flare,
Sublimely whirl'd, like ftraws, amid the air;
Nor, happy in a ftomach form'd of fteel,
On roaring lions have I made a meal.
Unequal mine with lions' bones to cope ;
Thy jaws can only on fuch viands ope.
O hadft thou trod, like me, the happy ifle,
Whofe * mountain treats all mountains with a fmile ;
* Teneriffe. B ° ld
( rf )
Bold hadft thou climb'd th' afcent, an eafy matter,
And, nobly daring, fous'd into the crater;
Then out asjen hadft vaulted with a hop,
Ouick as a i weeper from a chimney top.
O had thy curious eye beheld, like mine,
The * ifle which glads the heart with richeft wine !
Beneath its vines, with common clufters crown'd,
At eve my wandVing fteps a paffage found,
Where rofe the hut, and neither rich nor poor,
The wife and hufband, feated at the door,
Touch'd, when the labours of the day were done,
The wire of mufic to the fetting fun ;
Where, bleft, a tender offspring, ranged around,
Join'd their fmall voices to the filver found*
* Madeira. But
( 17 )
But had thine eye this fimple fcene explor'd,
The man at once had fprung a fceptre'd lord ;
Princes and princeffes the beams had been ;
The hut a palace, and the wife a queen ;
Their golden harps had ravifh'd thy two ears,
And beggar'd all the mufic of the fpheres ;
So kind is nature always pleas'd to be,
When vifited by favourites, like thee !
Strange ! thou haft feen the land, that, to its fhame P
Ne'er heard our good *s virtues nor his name !
I've only feen thofe regions, let me fay,
Where his great virtues never found their way.
Alas, I never met with royal fcenes !
No vomits gave to Abyffinian queens!
F Drew
( ii )
Drew not from royal arms the purple tide,
Nor fcotch'd with fleams, a fceptre'd lady's hide ;
Nor, in anatomy fo very flout,
Ventured to turn a princefs infide out ;
Nor, blufhing, ftripp'd me to the very fkin,
To give a royal blackamoor a grin.
I never faw (with ignorance I own)
Mule-mounted monarchs feek th' imperial throne ;
Which mule the carpet fpoil'd— a dirty beaft !
Firftftal'd; then— What ?— Oblivion cloud the reft.
I faw no king, whofe fubjecls form'd a riot,
And, imp-like, howl'd around him for his quiet.
Nor have I been where men (what lofs, alas !)
Kill half a cow, and turn the reft to grafs.
Where'er,
( 19 )
Where'er, great Trav'ller, thou art pleas'd to tread,
The teeming fkies rain wonders on thy head:
No common birth to greet thine eye appears^
But facred labours of a thoufand years.
Where'er the Nile fhall pour the fmalleft fluice,
The rills fhall curl into the name of Bruce.
And, lo ! a univerfe his praife fhall utter,
Who, firft of mortals, found her parent gutter.
And, let me add, of gutters too the Queen,
Without whofe womb the Nile had never been.
Thus many a man ,whofe deeds have made a pother,
Has had a fcurvy father or a mother.
O form'd in art and fcience to furpafs ;
To whom e'en Valour is an arrant afs ;
O Bruce,
( 20 )
Bruce, moft furely Travel's eldeft fon ;
Tell, prithee, all that thou haft feen and done !
1 fear thou hideft half thy feats, unkind ;
A thoufand wonders, ah ! remain behind !
Where is the chariot-wheel with Pharoah's name,
Fifh'd from the old Red Sea to fwell thy fame ?
Where the horfe-fhoe with Pharoah's arms, and found
Where wicked Pharoah and his holt were drown'd ?
Where of that ftone a flice, and frefh account, .
Giv'nby the Lord to Moses on the Mount?
And where a flice of that ftone's elder brother,
That, broken, fore'd th' All-Wise t' engrave another?
Where of the cradle too, a facred rufh ?
Where a true charcoal of the burning bum?
And
( 21 )
And O the jewel, curious gem, difclofe,
That dangled from the Queen of Sheba's nofe,
When, with hard queftions, and two roguifh eyes,
She rode to puzzle Solomon the Wife ?
Sagacious Terrier in Discovery's mine,
Shall Nature form no more a nofe like thine?
No more difplay'd the pearls of wonder beam,
When thou, great man, art paft the Stygian ftream ?
To Afric wilt thou never, Bruce, return ?
Howl, Britain ! Europe, Abyfiinia mourn !
Droop (hall Discovery's wing, her bofom figji,
And Marvel meet no more the ravifli'd eye;
Nature outftep her modefty no more ;
iHer cataracts of wonder ceafe to roar,
G Forc'd
( ** )
Forc'd to a common channel to fubfide,
ur no longer an aftounding tide?
O bid not yet thy lucky labours ceafe ;
Still let the Land of Wonder feel incrcafe :
Thy loads of dung, delightful ordure, yield,
And bloffom with fertility the field :
Gates, hedges mend, that Ignorance pull'd down,
And bring in triumph back each kidnapp'd town.
Though Envy damns thy volumes of furprife,
Bleft I devour them with unfated eyes !
What tho' four Johnson cry'd, with cynic fneer,
" I deem'd at firft, indeed, Bruce had been there:
" But foon the eye of keen inveftigation,
" Prov'd all the fellow's tale a fabrication."
But
( *3 )
But who, alas ! on Johnfon's word relies,
Who faw the too kind North with jaundice'd eyes;
Who rode to Hawthornden's fair fcene by night,
For fear a Scottifli tree might wound his fight ;
And bent from decent candour to depart,
Allow'd a Scotchman neither head nor heart?
Grant fi&ion half thy volumes of furprife,
High in the fcale of merit {halt thou rife:
Still to Fame's temple doft thou boaft pretenfion ;
For thine the rara avis of invention !
And, lo ! amidft thy work of lab'ring years,
A dignity of egotifm appears ;
A ftile that clafflc authors mould purfue ;
A ftile that peerlefs * Katcrfelto knew !
r Thou
* A late celebrated Philofopher and Conjuror.
( H )
Thou dear man^mountain of difcovery, run;
Again attempt an Abyffinian fun!
Yes go ; a fecond journey, Bruce, purfue ;
More volumes of rich hift'ry bring to view.
O run ere Time the fpe&red tombs invade,
And feize the crumbling wonders from the fhade ;
Croud with fair columns, ftruck by Time, thy page,
And fnatch the falling grandeur from his rage :
Give that old Time a vomit too, and draw
More of Egyptian marvels from his maw.;
Bid him difgorge (by moderns call'd a hum)
Scratch'd by ten thoufand travellers, Memnon's bum ;
And, what all rarities muft needs furpafs,
The tail, the curious tail, of Balaam's aft.
Say,
( 25 )
Say, what mould flop, O Bruce, thy grand career;
Of Fame the fav'rite, and no child of Fear?
Danger's huge form, fo dread to vulgar eyes,
Pants at thy prefence, and a coward flies.
Where other travelers, fraught with terror, roam,
Lo! Bruce in Wonder-Land is quite at home;
The fame cool eye on Nature's forms looks down ;
Lions and rats, the courtier and the clown,
Whate'er thine a£tion, wonder crouds the tale ;
It fmells of Brobdignag — it hoafts a fcale !
Fond of the lofty, Bruce no pigmy loves —
Who likes a pigmy that a giant moves?
Again— what pigmy, with a form of lath,
ioft in his Ihadow, likes the Man of Gati:
H The
( * )
The bowerlv hoftefs, for a cart-horfe fit,
Scorns Daphne's reed-like fhape, and calls her chit ;
Whilft on the rough rolujlious lump of Nature,
Contemptuous Daphne whifpers u What a creature !'*
Pity ! purfuits like thine fhould feel a paufe,
More than half fmother'd by fair Fame's applaufe I
r
I fee thee fafe return'd from Marvel's mine,
"Whofe gems in ev'ry rock fo precious fhine ;
Proud of the product of a world unknown,
Unloading all thy treafure at the throne ;
While courtiers cry aloud with one accord,
u Moll marv'lous is the reign of George the Third !"
How like the butchers' boys we fometimes meet,
Stuck round with bladders, in a London ftreet :
In
( *7 )
In full-blown majefty who move, and drop
The bloated burthen in an Oilman's (hop ;
Whilft country bumpkins, gazing at the door,.
Cry they " ne'er zeed zo vine a zight bevore."
I fee old Nile, the king of floods, arife,
Shake hands, and welcome thee with happy eyes ;
Otters and alligators in his train,
Made by thy five immortal volumes vain ;
Weafels and polecats, (heregrigs, carrion-crows,
Seen and fmelt only by thine eyes and nofe.
u Son of the Arts, and Coufm of a King,
" Loud as a kettle-drum whofe aftions rin ,
Exclaims the king of floods, " thy books I've read,
" And for thy birth-place, envy Brother Tweed/'
O Eru
( ^ )
O Bruce, by Fame for ever to be fungi
Job's war-horfe fierce, thy neck with thunder hung :
When envious Death fhall put thee injiis ftable,
Snipp'd life's fine thread, that fhould have been a cable;
Lo ! to thy mem'ry fhall the marble fwelL,
Maufoleum huge, and all thy aftions tell !
Here in fair fculpture, the recording ftones
Shall give thee glorious, cracking lions 1 bones ;
There, which the fqueamifh fouls of Britain fhocks,
Rich fleaks devouring from the living ox ;
Here, flaring on thee from the realm of water.
Full many a virtuofo alligator;
There, Bruce informing queens, in naked pride,
"The feel and colour of a Scotfman's hide ;
Here
( *9 )
Here of the genealogy a tree,
Branching from Solomon's wife trunk to thee :
There, with a valour nought could dare withftand,
Bruce fighting an hyaena hand to hand ;
Which dread hyaena (what a bead uncouth !)
Fouo-ht with a pound of candles in his mouth :
Here temples burfting glorious on the view,
Which Hist'ry, tho' a goflip, never knew:
There columns Itarting from the earth and flood,
Juft like the razor-fifli from fand and mud ;
Here a wife Monarch with voracious looks,
Receiving all thy drawings and thy books ;
Whilft Fame behind him all fo folemn fings
■ libVal fpirit of the bell of kings,
I Man
( 3° )
Man fays, O Bruce, that thou wert hardly us'd ;
That oar great king at firfi thy book refus'd ;
Indeed look'd grimly 'midft his courtier crew,
Who, gentle courtiers ! all looked grimly too !
Thus when in black the lofty sky looks down,
The fyrripathizing sea reflects a frown ;
Vale, cattle, reptile, infefl, man and maid,
All mope, and feem to forrow in the made.
Steep is th' afcent, and narrow is the road,
Ah me ! that leads to Fame's divine abode :
Yet thick (through lanes, like pilgrimaging rats,
Unaw'd by mortals, and unfcar'd by cats)
What crawling holts attempt her facred fane,
And dizzy, drunk-like, tumble back again ;
Faft
( 3* )
Faft as the fwains, whofc aims the damfels filf,
Embrace of elegance down Greenwich Hill ;
Whilfl thou, Briareus like, with dauntlefs air,
Refolv'd to ravilliFAME, immortal Fair;
Juft like our London bullies with the w ,
Haft fcal'd the cloud-capt height and fore'd her doors!
O form'd the travelers of the eaft to fcare,
Although thy pow'rs are mighty, learn to (pare :
Dog mould not prey on dog, the proverb fays :
Allow then brother-trav'lers crumbs of praife ;
Like thee, let others reap applaufe and rife
By daring vifits to Egyptian fides :
But calmly, lo ! thou canft not fee them pafs ;
u This is a rogue or fool, and that's an afs :"
Thus on a tree, whene'er the weather's fine,
Jack Ketch, the Spider, weaves the fatal line;
Beneath
( 3* )
Beneath a leaf he hides with watchful eye,
Now darts, and roping hangs the trav'ling Fly,
Again, mo ft tirefome, let me fay, Go, go,
Proceed, and all about it let us know;
Led fafely by thine enterprifmg ftar,
Hyenas fhall not with thy journey war :
Uneat by tygers, dare the foreft's gloom,
To bid the barren field of knowledge bloom :
Wave o'er new pyramids thine eagle wings ;
And, hound-like, fcent frefh tombs of ancient kings,
Which Time had buried with the mighty dead.
And cold Oblivion fwallow'd in her {hade :
And mind, 'tis Hist'ry's province to furprize ;
That tales are fweeteft, that found rnoft like lies*
FINIS.
( 33 )
As the confejfed fuperiority of Mr. Bruce to Mr.
. Boswell entitles him to a more eminent mirk
of diflinclwn, I have added an O D E, in my befl
Manner, to this Complimentary Epiftle, which the
Congratulatory Epiflk to Mr. Bofzvell cannot boafl.
ODE to JAMES BRUCE, Efq.
\J Bruce, for this his fhort and fweet epiftle,
Thou biddeft p'rhaps the gentle bard " go whittle;"
Or fomewhat worfc,perchaunce 9 tli2it rhimes to knight;
That is to fay, knights of the blade,
One time fo bufy in the dubbing trade,
That, like to filver, it was moulder'd bright.
Pity by hungry critics thou fliouldft fall,
So clever, and fo form'd, to pleafe us all !
K Again !
( 34 )
Again!— by royal favour all-furrounded,
A balm fo rich, like cloves and nutmegs pounded !
Thus the Bag Fox, (how cruelly, alack !)
Turn'd out with turpentine upon his back,
Amidft the war of hounds and hunters flies ;
Shows fport ; but, lucklefs, by his fragrance dies !
Safe from the fury of the critic hounds,
O Bruce, thou treadeft Abyffinian grounds ;
Nor can our Brjtifh nofes hunt thy foil :
Indeed, thou need'ft not dread th' event ;
Surrounding clouds deftroy the fcent,
And mock their molt fagacious toil :
Yes, in thy darknefs thou malt leave the dogs ;
For hares, the hunters lay, run beft in fogs.
Of
( 35 )
Of thee and me, two great phyficians,
How difPrent are the difpofitions !
Thy foul delights in wonder, pomp, and buftle;
Mine in th' wzmarvellous and placid fcene,
Plain as the * hut of our good King and Queen ; —
I imitate the ftationary mufcle.
Yet, boldly thou, O Bruce, again proceed;
Of wonder ope the fountain head ;
Deluge the land with Abyflinian ware;
Whilft I, a fimple fon of peace,
The world of bagatelle increafe,
By love-fick fonnets to the fair :
* A houfe clofe by the glorious caftle of Windfor.
Now
( 3^ )
Now to Sir Jofeph, now a Duke, now Wren,
Now Robin Red-breaft, dedicate the pen ;
Now Glow-worm, child of {hade and light, not flame ;
To whom, of wicked wits, the tuneful art,
So very apt, indeed, from truth to ftart,
Compares the nightly ftreet-meand 'ring dame.
Mild Insect, harmlefs as myfelf, I ween ;
Thou little planet of the rural fcene,
When fummer warms the vallies with her rays ;
Accept a trifling fonnet to thy praife*
ODE
( 37 ) •
ODE to the GLOW-WORM.
J3RIGHT ftranger, welcome to my field,
Here feed in fafety, here thy radiance yield ;
To me, O nightly be thy fplendor giv'n :
O could a wifh of mine the Ikies command,
How would I gem thy leaf with lib'ral hand,
With ev'ry fweeteft dew of Heav'n !
Say, doft thou kindly light the Fairy train,
Amidft their gambols on the ftilly plain,
Hanging thy lamp upon the moiften'd blade ?
What lamp fo fit, fo pure as thine,
Amidft the gentle elfin band to fhine,
And chace the horrors of the midnight {hade !
L Oh!
( 3S )
Oh! may no feather'd foe diilurb thy bowY,
And with barbarian beak thy life devour :
Oli ! may no ruthlefs torrent of the fky,
O'erwhelming, force thee from thy dewy feat;
Nor tempefis tear thee from thy green retreat,
And bid thee midft the humming myriads die.
Queen of the infe£t world, what leaves delight ?
Of fuch thefe willing hands a bow'r fhall form,
To guard thee from the rufhing rains of night,
And hide thee from the wild wing of the ftorm.
Sweet Child of Stillnefs, midft the awful calm
Of paufmg Nature thou art pleas'd to dwell ;
In happy filence to enjoy thy balm,
And flied through life a luftre round thy cell.
How
( 39 )
How different man, the imp of noife and ftrife,
Who courts the ftorm that tears and darkens life ;
Bleft when the paffions wild the foul invade !
How nobler far to bid thofe whirlwinds ceafe ;
To taite, like thee, the luxury of peace,
And fhine in folitude and fhade !
ERRATA,
P a g e 3i 1' ne T 4 — For make., read wa/b.
10, line io — For ihctr, reaH your.
13, line 4 — For had, read has,
hue 8 — For a period, pur zfcmicolon,
m ling g — for /<.'>} icad the.
A LIST of PETER PiND Alt's WORKS;
.Any of which may he had of G. KL.rAr.sr.EY, No. 46, Meet- Street,
and the Country Bookfellers.
1. s. d.
1. A Supplicating EPISTLE to the REVIEWERS, -016
2. LYRIC ODES to the Royal Academicians, for 1782, 020
3. I/83, o 1 6
4. 1785,0 2 6
5. FAREWELL ODES, 1786,0 30
6. The LOUSIAD, Canto I. --026
7. Canto II. --------026
S. Congratulatory EPISTLE to JAMES BOSWELL, 020
9. BOZZI and PIOZZI, a TOWN ECLOGUE, .030
0. ODE upon ODE, or a PEEP at St. JAMES's, - - o 3 o
1. An Apologetic POSTCRIPT to ODE upon ODE, o 1 6
2. INSTRUCTIONS to a certain POET LAUREAT, 026
3. BROTHER PETER to BROTHER TOM, -030
4. PETER's PENSION, a Solemn EPISTLE, --030
5. PETER's PROPHECY, 030
6. Sir J. BANKS and the EMPEROR of MOROCCO, o : 6
7. EPISTLE to a FALLING MINISTER, --.026
8. SUBJECTS for PAINTERS, 036
9. EXPOSTULATORY ODES to a Great DUKE 1 .
and a Little LORD - - . J ° 2 °
20. BENEVOLENT EiTSTLE to NICHOLS, - -o 26
21. ODE to the Future LAUREAT, -'---- o 1 6
22. EPIS1LE to BRUCE, 026
2 1
3 °
>% Complete Sets may now fre had, inclnding a Mczzctinto Engraving of the Author
b_y one or" ou; aioft eminent r.itirts.
N* B. The complete Set, ■: :: iuv r the Portrait of the Author, is fpurlous.
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