The Poetical Works of Edward Young, Volume 2

From Oxford.

Edward Young

All write at London; shall the rage abate

Here, where it most should shine, the muses' seat?

Where, mortal or immortal, as they please,

The learn'd may choose eternity, or ease?

Has not a 66royal patron wisely strove

To woo the muse in her Athenian grove?

Added new strings to her harmonious shell,

And given new tongues to those who spoke so well?

Let these instruct, with truth's illustrious ray,

Awake the world, and scare our owls away.

Meanwhile, O friend! indulge me, if I give

Some needful precepts how to write, and live!

Serious should be an author's final views;

Who write for pure amusement, ne'er amuse.

An author! 'tis a venerable name!

How few deserve it, and what numbers claim!

Unblest with sense above their peers refin'd,

Who shall stand up, dictators to mankind?

Nay, who dare shine, if not in virtue's cause?

That sole proprietor of just applause.

Ye restless men, who pant for letter'd praise,

With whom would you consult to gain the bays?—

With those great authors whose fam'd works you read?

[pg 349]

'Tis well: go, then, consult the laurell'd shade.

What answer will the laurell'd shade return?

Hear it, and tremble! he commands you burn

The noblest works his envied genius writ,

That boast of nought more excellent than wit.

If this be true, as 'tis a truth most dread,

Woe to the page which has not that to plead!

Fontaine and Chaucer, dying, wish'd unwrote,

The sprightliest efforts of their wanton thought:

Sidney and Waller, brightest sons of fame,

Condemn the charm of ages to the flame:

And in one point is all true wisdom cast,

To think that early we must think at last.

Immortal wits, ev'n dead, break nature's laws,

Injurious still to virtue's sacred cause;

And their guilt growing, as their bodies rot,

(Revers'd ambition!) pant to be forgot.

Thus ends your courted fame: does lucre then,

The sacred thirst of gold, betray your pen?

In prose 'tis blameable, in verse 'tis worse,

Provokes the muse, extorts Apollo's curse:

His sacred influence never should be sold:

'Tis arrant simony to sing for gold:

'Tis immortality should fire your mind;

Scorn a less paymaster than all mankind.

If bribes you seek, know this, ye writing tribe!

Who writes for virtue has the largest bribe:

All's on the party of the virtuous man;

The good will surely serve him, if they can;

The bad, when interest, or ambition guide,

[pg 350]

And 'tis at once their interest and their pride:

But should both fail to take him to their care,

He boasts a greater friend, and both may spare.

Letters to man uncommon light dispense;

And what is virtue, but superior sense?

In parts and learning you who place your pride,

Your faults are crimes, your crimes are double dyed.

What is a scandal of the first renown,

But letter'd knaves, and atheists in a gown?

'Tis harder far to please than give offence;

The least misconduct damns the brightest sense;

Each shallow pate, that cannot read your name,

Can read your life, and will be proud to blame.

Flagitious manners make impressions deep

On those, that o'er a page of Milton sleep:

Nor in their dulness think to save your shame,

True, these are fools; but wise men say the same.

Wits are a despicable race of men,

—Hor.

Though strength of genius, by experience taught,

Gives thee to sound the depths of human thought,

To trace the various workings of the mind,

And rule the secret springs, that rule mankind;

(Rare gift!) yet, Walpole, wilt thou condescend

To listen, if thy unexperienc'd friend

Can aught of use impart, though void of skill,

And win attention by sincere good-will;

For friendship, sometimes, want of parts supplies,

The heart may furnish what the head denies.

As when the rapid Rhone, o'er swelling tides,

To grace old ocean's court, in triumph rides,

Tho' rich his source, he drains a thousand springs,

Nor scorns the tribute each small rivulet brings.

So thou shalt, hence, absorb each feeble ray,

Each dawn of meaning, in thy brighter day;

Shalt like, or, where thou canst not like, excuse,

Since no mean interest shall profane the muse,

No malice, wrapt in truth's disguise, offend,

Nor flattery taint the freedom of the friend.

[pg 358]

When first a generous mind surveys the great,

And views the crowds that on their fortune wait;

Pleas'd with the show (though little understood)

He only seeks the power, to do the good;

Thinks, till he tries, 'tis godlike to dispose,

And gratitude still springs, where bounty sows;

That every grant sincere affection wins,

And where our wants have end, our love begins:

But those who long the paths of state have trod,

Learn from the clamours of the murmuring crowd,

Which cramm'd, yet craving still, their gates besiege,

'Tis easier far to give, than to oblige.

This of thy conduct seems the nicest part,

The chief perfection of the statesman's art,

To give to fair assent a fairer face,

Or soften a refusal into grace:

But few there are that can be truly kind,

Or know to fix their favours on the mind;

Hence, some, whene'er they would oblige, offend,

And, while they make the fortune, lose the friend;

Still give, unthank'd; still squander, not bestow;

For great men want not, what to give, but how.

The race of men that follow courts, 'tis true,

Think all they get, and more than all, their due;

Still ask, but ne'er consult their own deserts,

And measure by their interest, not their parts:

From this mistake so many men we see

But ill become the thing they wish'd to be;

Hence discontent, and fresh demands arise,

[pg 359]

More power, more favour in the great man's eyes;

All feel a want, though none the cause suspects,

But hate their patron, for their own defects;

Such none can please, but who reforms their hearts,

And, when he gives them places, gives them parts.

As these o'erprize their worth, so sure the great

May sell their favour at too dear a rate;

When merit pines, while clamour is preferr'd,

And long attachment waits among the herd;

When no distinction, where distinction 's due,

Marks from the many the superior few;

When strong cabal constrains them to be just,

And makes them give at last—because they must;

What hopes that men of real worth should prize,

What neither friendship gives, nor merit buys?

The man who justly o'er the whole presides,

His well-weigh'd choice with wise affection guides;

Knows when to stop with grace, and when advance,

Nor gives through importunity or chance;

But thinks how little gratitude is ow'd,

When favours are extorted, not bestow'd.

When, safe on shore ourselves, we see the crowd

Surround the great, importunate, and loud;

Through such a tumult, 'tis no easy task

To drive the man of real worth to ask:

Surrounded thus, and giddy with the show,

'Tis hard for great men rightly to bestow;

From hence so few are skill'd, in either case,

To ask with dignity, or give with grace.

[pg 360]

Sometimes the great, seduc'd by love of parts,

Consult our genius, and neglect our hearts;

Pleas'd with the glittering sparks that genius flings,

They lift us, towering on their eagle's wings,

Mark out the flights by which themselves begun,

And teach our dazzled eyes to bear the sun;

Till we forget the hand that made us great,

And grow to envy, not to emulate:

To emulate, a generous warmth implies,

To reach the virtues, that make great men rise;

But envy wears a mean malignant face,

And aims not at their virtues—but their place.

Such to oblige, how vain is the pretence!

When every favour is a fresh offence,

By which superior power is still implied,

And, while it helps their fortune, hurts their pride.

Slight is the hate, neglect or hardships breed;

But those who hate from envy, hate indeed.

"Since so perplex'd the choice, whom shall we trust?"

Methinks I hear thee cry—The brave and just;

The man by no mean fears or hopes controll'd,

Who serves thee from affection, not for gold.

We love the honest, and esteem the brave,

Despise the coxcomb, but detest the knave;

No show of parts the truly wise seduce,

To think that knaves can be of real use.

The man, who contradicts the public voice,

And strives to dignify a worthless choice,

Attempts a task that on that choice reflects,

[pg 361]

And lends us light to point out new defects.

One worthless man, that gains what he pretends,

Disgusts a thousand unpretending friends:

And since no art can make a counterpass,

Or add the weight of gold to mimic brass,

When princes to bad ore their image join,

They more debase the stamp, than raise the coin.

Be thine the care, true merit to reward

And gain the good—nor will that task be hard;

Souls form'd alike so quick by nature blend,

An honest man is more than half thy friend.

Him, no mean views, or haste to rise, shall sway,

Thy choice to sully, or thy trust betray:

Ambition, here, shall at due distance stand

Nor is wit dangerous in an honest hand:

Besides, if failings at the bottom lie,

We view those failings with a lover's eye;

Though small his genius, let him do his best,

Our wishes and belief supply the rest.

Let others barter servile faith for gold,

His friendship is not to be bought or sold:

Fierce opposition he, unmov'd, shall face,

Modest in favour, daring in disgrace,

To share thy adverse fate alone, pretend;

In power, a servant; out of power, a friend.

Here pour thy favours in an ample flood,

Indulge thy boundless thirst of doing good:

Nor think that good to him alone confin'd;

Such to oblige, is to oblige mankind.

[pg 362]

If thus thy mighty master's steps thou trace,

The brave to cherish, and the good to grace;

Long shalt thou stand from rage and faction free,

And teach us long to love the king, through thee:

Or fall a victim dangerous to the foe,

And make him tremble when he strikes the blow;

While honour, gratitude, affection join

To deck thy close, and brighten thy decline;

(Illustrious doom!) the great, when this displac'd,

With friendship guarded, and with virtue grac'd,

In awful ruin, like Rome's senate, fall,

The prey and worship of the wondering Gaul.

No doubt, to genius some reward is due,

(Excluding that, were satirizing you;)

But yet, believe thy undesigning friend,

When truth and genius for thy choice contend,

Tho' both have weight when in the balance cast,

Let probity be first, and parts the last.

On these foundations if thou dar'st be great,

And check the growth of folly and deceit;

When party rage shall droop thro' length of days,

And calumny be ripen'd into praise,

Then future times shall to thy worth allow

That fame, which envy would call flattery now.

Thus far my zeal, though for the task unfit,

Has pointed out the rocks where others split;

By that inspir'd, though stranger to the Nine,

And negligent of any fame—but thine,

I take the friendly, but superfluous part;

You act from nature what I teach from art.

[pg 363]

The Old Man's Relapse.

Verses Occasioned by the Foregoing Epistle.

Sopitos suscita ignes.

—Virg.

From man's too curious and impatient sight,

The future, Heaven involves in thickest night.

Credit gray hairs: though freedom much we boast,

Some least perform, what they determine most.

What sudden changes our resolves betray!

To-morrow is the satire on to-day,

And shows its weakness. Whom shall men believe,

When constantly themselves, themselves deceive?

Long had I bid my once-loved muse adieu;

You warm old age; my passion burns anew.

How sweet your verse! how great your force of mind!

What power of words! what skill in dark mankind!

Polite the conduct; generous the design;

And beauty files, and strength sustains, each line.

Thus Mars and Venus are, once more, beset;

Your wit has caught them in its golden net.

But what strikes home with most exalted grace

Is, haughty genius taught to know its place;

And, where worth shines, its humbled crest to bend,

[pg 364]

With zeal devoted to that godlike end.

When we discern so rich a vein of sense,

Through the smooth flow of purest eloquence;

'Tis like the limpid streams of Tagus roll'd

O'er boundless wealth, o'er shining beds of gold.

But whence so finish'd, so refin'd a piece?

The tongue denies it to old Rome and Greece;

The genius bids the moderns doubt their claim,

And slowly take possession of the fame.

But I nor know, nor care, by whom 'twas writ,

Enough for me that 'tis from human wit;

That soothes my pride: all glory in the pen

Which has done honour to the race of men.

But this have others done; a like applause

An ancient and a modern Horace draws.67

But they to glory by degrees arose,

Meridian lustre you at once disclose.

'Tis continence of mind, unknown before,

To write so well, and yet to write no more.

More bright renown can human nature claim,

Than to deserve, and fly immortal fame?

Next to the godlike praise of writing well,

Is on that praise with just delight to dwell.

O, for some God my drooping soul to raise!

That I might imitate, as well as praise;

For all commend: e'en foes your fame confess;

[pg 365]

Nor would Augustus' age have priz'd it less;

An age, which had not held its pride so long,

But for the want of so complete a song.

A golden period shall from you commence:

Peace shall be sign'd 'twixt wit and manly sense;

Whether your genius or your rank they view,

The muses find their Halifax in you.

Like him succeed! nor think my zeal is shown

For you; 'tis Britain's interest, not your own;

For lofty stations are but golden snares,

Which tempt the great to fall in love with cares.

I would proceed, but age has chill'd my vein,

'Twas a short fever, and I'm cool again.

Though life I hate, methinks I could renew

Its tasteless, painful course, to sing of you.

When such the subject, who shall curb his flight?

When such your genius, who shall dare to write?

In pure respect, I give my rhyming o'er,

And, to commend you most, commend no more.

Adieu, whoe'er thou art! on death's pale coast

Erelong I'll talk thee o'er with Dryden's ghost;

The bard will smile. A last, a long farewell!

Henceforth I hide me in my dusky cell;

There wait the friendly stroke that sets me free,

And think of immortality and thee—

My strains are number'd by the tuneful Nine;

Each maid presents her thanks, and all present thee mine.

[pg 366]

Verses

Sent by Lord Melcombe to Dr. Young, Not Long Before His Lordship's Death.68

Kind companion of my youth,

Lov'd for genius, worth, and truth!

Take what friendship can impart,

Tribute of a feeling heart;

Take the muse's latest spark,69

Ere we drop into the dark.

He, who parts and virtue gave,

Bad thee look beyond the grave

Genius soars, and virtue guides;

Above, the love of God presides.

There's a gulf 'twixt us and God;

Let the gloomy path be trod:

Why stand shivering on the shore?

Why not boldly venture o'er?

Where unerring virtue guides,

Let us have the winds and tides:

Safe, through seas of doubts and fears,

Rides the bark which virtue steers.

The End

The Duke of Marlborough.

Westminster Abbey.

Founders of New College, Corpus Christi, and All Souls, in Oxford; of all which the author was a member.

Here she embraces them.

Val. Max.

Horace.

A famous statue.

A famous tailor.

This refers to the first satire.

10.

The name of a tulip.

11.

Letters sent to the author, signed Marcus.

12.

Milton.

13.

A Danish dog of the Duke of Argyle.

14.

Lap-dog.

15.

Shakespeare.

16.

——Solem quis dicere falsum

Audeat?

Virg.

Shakespeare.

Milton.

Amphitryon.

The king in danger by sea.

21.

Hom. Il. lib. I.

22.

Ecce Deus ramum LethÆo rore madentem, &c.

Virg.

23.

A new fund for Greenwich hospital, recommended from the throne.

24.

Written soon after King George the First's accession.

25.

It is disputed amongst the critics who was the author of the book of Job; some give it to Moses, some to others. As I was engaged in this little performance, some arguments occurred to me which favour the former of those opinions; which arguments I have flung into the following notes, where little else is to be expected.

26.

The Almighty's speech, chapter xxxviii. &c. which is what I paraphrase in this little work, is by much the finest part of the noblest and most ancient poem in the world. Bishop Patrick says, its grandeur is as much above all other poetry, as thunder is louder than a whisper. In order to set this distinguished part of the poem in a fuller light, and give the reader a clearer conception of it, I have abridged the preceding and subsequent parts of the poem, and joined them to it; so that this piece is a sort of an epitome of the whole book of Job.

I use the word paraphrase, because I want another which might better answer to the uncommon liberties I have taken. I have omitted, added, and transposed. The mountain, the comet, the sun, and other parts, are entirely added: those upon the peacock, the lion, &c. are much enlarged; and I have thrown the whole into a method more suited to our notions of regularity. The judicious, if they compare this piece with the original, will, I flatter myself, find the reasons for the great liberties I have indulged myself in through the whole.

Longinus has a chapter on interrogations, which shows that they contribute much to the sublime. This speech of the Almighty is made up of them. Interrogation seems indeed the proper style of majesty incensed. It differs from other manner of reproof, as bidding a person execute himself does from a common execution; for he that asks the guilty a proper question, makes him, in effect, pass sentence on himself.

27.

The book of Job is well known to be dramatic, and, like the tragedies of old Greece, is fiction built on truth. Probably this most noble part of it, the Almighty speaking out of the whirlwind, (so suitable to the after-practice of the Greek stage, when there happened dignus vindice nodus,) is fictitious; but is a fiction more agreeable to the time in which Job lived, than to any since. Frequent before the law were the appearances of the Almighty after this manner, Exod. c. xix. Ezek. c. i. &c. Hence is he said to "dwell in thick darkness: and have his way in the whirlwind."

28.

There is a very great air in all that precedes, but this is signally sublime. We are struck with admiration to see the vast and ungovernable ocean receiving commands, and punctually obeying them; to find it like a managed horse, raging, tossing, and foaming, but by the rule and direction of its master. This passage yields in sublimity to that of "Let there be light," &c., so much only as the absolute government of nature yields to the creation of it.

29.

Another argument that Moses was the author, is, that most of the creatures here mentioned are Egyptian. The reason given why the raven is particularly mentioned as an object of the care of Providence, is, because by her clamorous and importunate voice, she particularly seems always calling upon it; thence [Greek: korassÔ, a korax], Ælian. l. ii. c. 48, is "to ask earnestly." And since there were ravens on the bank of the Nile more clamorous than the rest of that species, those probably are meant in that place.

30.

There are many instances of this bird's stupidity: let two suffice. First, it covers its head in the reeds, and thinks itself all out of sight,

Stat lumine clauso

Ridendum revoluta caput, creditque latere

QuÆ non ipsa videt.

Claud.

Secondly, they that go in pursuit of them, draw the skin of an ostrich's neck on one hand, which proves a sufficient lure to take them with the other.

They have so little brain, that Heliogabalus had six hundred heads for his supper.

Here we may observe, that our judicious as well as sublime author, just touches the great points of distinction in each creature, and then hastens to another. A description is exact when you cannot add, but what is common to another thing; nor withdraw, but something peculiarly belonging to the thing described. A likeness is lost in too much description, as a meaning often in too much illustration.

31.

Here is marked another peculiar quality of this creature, which neither flies nor runs directly, but has a motion composed of both, and, using its wings as sails, makes great speed.

Vasta velut LibyÆ venantÛm vocibus ales

Cum premitur, calidas cursu transmittit arenas,

Inque modum veli sinuatis flamine pennis

Pulverulenta volat.

Claud. in Eutr.

32.

Xenophon says, Cyrus had horses that could overtake the goat and the wild ass; but none that could reach this creature. A thousand golden ducats, or a hundred camels, was the stated price of a horse that could equal their speed.

33.

Though this bird is but just mentioned in my author, I could not forbear going a little farther, and spreading those beautiful plumes (which are there shut up) in half a dozen lines. The circumstance I have marked of his opening his plumes to the sun is true. Expandit colores adverso maxime sole, quia sic fulgentius radiant. Plin. l. x. c. 20.

34.

Thyanus (de Re Accip.) mentions a hawk that flew from Paris to London in a night.

And the Egyptians, in regard to its swiftness, made it their symbol for the wind; for which reason we may suppose the hawk, as well as the crow above, to have been a bird of note in Egypt.

35.

The eagle is said to be of so acute a sight, that when she is so high in air that man cannot see her, she can discern the smallest fish under water. My author accurately understood the nature of the creatures he describes, and seems to have been a naturalist as well as a poet, which the next note will confirm.

36.

The meaning of this question is, Knowest thou the time and circumstances of their bringing forth? For to know the time only was easy, and had nothing extraordinary in it; but the circumstances had something peculiarly expressive of God's providence, which makes the question proper in this place. Pliny observes, that the hind with young is by instinct directed to a certain herb called Seselis, which facilitates the birth. Thunder also (which looks like the more immediate hand of Providence) has the same effect. Ps. xxix. In so early an age to observe these things, may style our author a naturalist.

37.

Pursuing their prey by night is true of most wild beasts, particularly the lion. Ps. cvi. 20. The Arabians have one among their five hundred names for the lion, which signifies "the hunter by moonshine."

38.

Cephissi glaciale caput, quo suetus anhelam

Ferre sitim Python, amnemque avertere ponto.

Stat. Theb. vii. 349.

Qui spiris tegeret montes, hauriret hiatu

Flumina, &c. Claud. Pref. in Ruf.

Let not then this hyperbole seem too much for an eastern poet, though some commentators of name strain hard in this place for a new construction, through fear of it.

39.

The taking the crocodile is most difficult. Diodorus says, they are not to be taken but by iron nets. When Augustus conquered Egypt, he struck a medal, the impress of which was a crocodile chained to a palm-tree, with this inscription, Nemo antea religavit.

40.

This alludes to a custom of this creature, which is, when sated with fish, to come ashore and sleep among the reeds.

41.

The crocodile's mouth is exceeding wide. When he gapes, says Pliny, sic totum os. Martial says to his old woman,

Cum comparata rictibus tuis ora

Niliacus habet crocodilus angusta.

So that the expression there is barely just.

42.

This too is nearer the truth than at first view may be imagined. The crocodile, say the naturalists, lying long under water, and being there forced to hold its breath, when it emerges, the breath long represt is hot, and bursts out so violently, that it resembles fire and smoke. The horse suppresses not his breath by any means so long, neither is he so fierce and animated; yet the most correct of poets ventures to use the same metaphor concerning him:

Collectumque premens volvit sub naribus ignem.

By this and the foregoing note I would caution against a false opinion of the eastern boldness, from passages in them ill understood.

43.

"His eyes are like the eyelids of the morning." I think this gives us as great an image of the thing it would express as can enter the thought of man. It is not improbable that the Egyptians stole their hieroglyphic for the morning, which is the crocodile's eye, from this passage, though no commentator, I have seen, mentions it. It is easy to conceive how the Egyptians should be both readers and admirers of the writings of Moses, whom I suppose the author of this poem.

I have observed already that three or four of the creatures here described are Egyptian; the two last are notoriously so, they are the river-horse and the crocodile, those celebrated inhabitants of the Nile; and on these two it is that our author chiefly dwells. It would have been expected from an author more remote from that river than Moses, in a catalogue of creatures produced to magnify their Creator, to have dwelt on the two largest works of his hand, viz. the elephant and the whale. This is so natural an expectation, that some commentators have rendered behemoth and leviathan, the elephant and whale, though the descriptions in our author will not admit of it; but Moses being, as we may well suppose, under an immediate terror of the hippopotamus and crocodile, from their daily mischiefs and ravages around him, it is very accountable why he should permit them to take place.

44.

Though the report was propagated without the least truth, it may be sufficient ground to justify a poetical fancy's enlarging on it.

45.

Lord Aubrey Beauclerk was the eighth son of the Duke of St. Albans, who was one of the sons of King Charles the Second. He was born in the year 1711; and, being regularly bred to the sea service, in 1731 he was appointed to the command of his majesty's ship the Ludlow Castle; and he commanded the Prince Frederick at the attack of the harbour of Carthagena, March 24, 1741. This young nobleman was one of the most promising commanders in the king's service. When on the desperate attack of the castle of Bocca Chica, at the entrance of the said harbour, he lost his life, both his legs being first shot off. The prose part of the inscription on his monument was the production of Mrs. Mary Jones of Oxford; who also wrote a poem on his death, printed in her Miscellanies, 8vo, 1752.—R.

46.

Lord Sommers procured a pension for Mr. Addison, which enabled him to prosecute his travels.—R.

47.

The publication of his Works.

48.

The invader affects the character of Charles XII. of Sweden.

49.

Mrs. M——.

50.

Whilst the author was writing this, he received the news of Mr. Samuel Richardson's death, who was then printing the former part of the poem.

51.

Mrs. Montague.

52.

Mrs. Montague.

53.

Mrs. Montague. Mrs Carter.

Candide.

Second Part.

Ephes. vi. 17.

Which his romance ridicules.

58.

Isaiah lvii. 15.

59.

Letter to Lord Lyttelton.

60.

Alluding to Prussia.

61.

Knight of the Bath, and then of the Garter.

62.

An ancestor of the Duke of Shrewsbury, who conquered France, drawn by Shakespeare.—Young.

63.

See his lordship's tragedy entitled "Heroic Love." —Young.

64.

His lordship's nephew, who took orders.—Young.

65.

The author here bewails that most ingenious gentleman, Mr. William Harrison, fellow of New-College, Oxon.—Young. [See a more particular account of him in the Supplement to Swift.]

66.

His late majesty's benefaction for modern languages.

67.

Boileau.

68.

A Poetical Epistle from the late Lord Melcombe to the Earl of Bute, with corrections by the author of the Night Thoughts, was published in 4to, 1776.

69.

See Mr. Cust's Life of Young.

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