  BY JAMES WILSON. James Wilson, the author of this, and the four following poetical pieces, belonged to Hexham, where he taught school until he removed to Morpeth, under pecuniary embarrassment: while here, he found a friend in the late Wallis Ogle, Esq. and was by him conducted to Cawsey Park School, where he shortly after died. When at Hexham, he published a volume of Poems printed by T. Angus, Newcastle, in 1778. Apollo, your aid I request, Direct and embellish each line; With influence warm my breast, To sing the sweet Banks of the Tyne. If Phoebus proposes the theme, Both reason and duty combine, To pay my respects to the stream, And honour the Banks of the Tyne. Here oft with great pleasure I stray, Nor ever find cause to repine, While Nature’s rich beauties display Themselves on the Banks of the Tyne. Here Liberty’s pleas’d to resort, Her banners with lustre here shine; No place, since she left the vile court, Can please like the Banks of the Tyne. Her sons are with Liberty fir’d, Their Freedom they’ll never resign; But what their forefathers acquir’d, Defend on the Banks of the Tyne. The man let me freely explain, Who would as a senator shine, ’Tis Theron, who holds his domain Enclos’d by the Banks of the Tyne. The following Ode, addressed to Sir Walter Blackett, Bart. was wrote by the Author, on the very Day that the Building of Hexham Bridge was undertaken. BY JAMES WILSON. Ye sacred nine descend, Aid to my muse O lend, Whilst I rehearse: Bind round my head the bays, My humble genius raise, And teach me how to praise Blackett, in verse. Hard is the task impos’d, Glorious the end propos’d; Hark! it succeeds: Heaven would surely frown, And with contempt look down, Should we forget to own His noble deeds. Hexham no more shall weep, At Tyne’s redundant sweep, And pregnant shore; Blackett the path will pave, Which scorns the threat’ning wave, Where all with joy will have Safe passage o’er. See him with ev’ry age, Soft’ning the bitter rage, Of Poverty: As he approaches nigh, Ope the strong bolts do fly, To set, with heart-felt joy, The wretched free. Titus the great did say, Gods! I have lost a day: Fatal mistake; Blackett more great than he, Never that day can see, But numbers chearfully, Sing for his sake. May Heaven his life prolong, To swell the Poet’s song Till there arise, One that’s as good as he, Then let him wafted be, To spend eternity, Above the skies. The following Lines, written on laying the Foundation-stone of Hexham Bridge, the Author had the Honour to read at the Head of the Table, at the sumptuous Entertainment given by Sir Walter Blackett, on the Occasion. BY JAMES WILSON. Unsullied mirth attend this feast, Let joy shine forth in every guest, And ev’ry face look gay: Let not a cloud depress the scene, But all look chearful and serene, ’Tis our rejoicing day. Come, Joy, with all thy smiling train, Here take thy rest, securely reign, See Phoebus shines more bright; Here will we this great day adorn, Till Cynthea with her silver horn, Illuminates the night. A bridge o’er Tyne! our joy’s complete, With rapture we its author greet, Our breasts exult and sing; This bliss consummates all our care. Now Hexham and Elysium are, But two words for one thing. |
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