From proud oppression injured worth to screen, And shake alike the senate and the scene.

And see, to save them from the wrecks of age, Exulting science fills her every page, Faine grasps her trump, the epic Muse attends, The lyre re-echoes and the song ascends, The sculptor's chissel with the pencil vies, Rocks leap, and animated inarbles rise : All arts, all powers, the virtuous chiefs adorn, And spread their pomps to ages yet unborn,

All this we own--but if, amidst the shine, Th’ enormous blaze that beams along the line, Some scoundrel peer, regardless of his sires, Pursues each folly, and each vice admires ; Shall we enrol his prostituted name In honor's zenith, and the lists of fame?

Exalted titles, like a beacon, rise
To tell the wretched where protection lies,
He then who hears unmoved affliction's cry,
His birth's a phantom, and his name's a lie.

Th' Egyptians thus, on Cairo's sacred plain, Saw half their marbles move into a fane; The glorious work unnumber'd artists ply, Now turn the dome, now lift it to the sky: But when they enter'd the sublime abode, They found a serpent where they hoped a god.

Anstis observes, that when a thousand years Roll through a race of princes, or of peers, Obliging virtue sheds her every beam From son to son, and waits upon the stream.

Yet say, ye great! who boast another's scars,
And think your lineage ends but in the stars,
What is this boon of Heaven? Dependent still
On woman's weakness, and on woman's will;
Dare

ye

affirm that no exotic blood
Has stain’d your glories ever since the Flood ?
Might not some brawny slave, from Afric fled,
Stamp his base image in the nuptial bed ?
Might not, in Pagan days, your mothers prove
The fire of Phæbus, and the strength of Jove ?
Or, more politely to their vows untrue,
Love, and elope, as modern ladies do ?

But, grant that all your gentle grandames shone Clear, and unsullied as the noon-day sun; Though Nature forin'd them of her chastest mold, Say, was their birth illustrious as their gold ? Full many a lord, we know, has chose to range Among the wealthy beauties of the 'Change; Or sigh’d, still humbler, to the midnight gale For some fair peasant of th’ Arcadian vale. Then blame us not, if backward to adore A name polluted by a slave or whore ; Since, spite of patents, and of kings' decrees, And blooming coronets on parchment trees, Some alien stain may darken all the line, And Norfolk's blood descend as mean as mine.

You boast, my lord ! a race with laurels crown'd, By senates honor’d, and in wars renown'd; Show then the martial sound to danger bred, When Poictiers thunder'd, and when Cressy bled; Show us those deeds, those heaven-directed fires, That ages past saw beaming on your sires,

That freeborn pride no tyrant durst enslave,
That godlike zeal that only lived to save.

Dare you, though faction bawl through all her tribe,
Though monarchs threaten, and though statesmen bribe,
Feel for mankind, and gallantly approve
All virtue teaches, and all angels love?
Know

you the tear that flows o’er worth distress'd,
The joy that rises when a people's blest ?
Then, if you please, immortalize your line,
With all that's great, heroic, and divine;
Explore with curious eye th' historic page,
The rolls of fame, the monuments of age ;
Adopt each chief immortal Homer sings,

All Greece’s heroes, and all Asia's kings :
If earth's too scanty, search the blest abode,
And make your first progenitor a god :
We grant your claim, whate'er you wish to prove;
The son of Priam, or the son of Jove.

Statesmen and patriots thus to glory rise,
The self-born sun that gilds them never dies :
While he ennobled by those gewgaw things,
The pride of patents, and the breath of kings,
Glares the pale meteor of a little hour,
Fed by court sunshine, and poetic shower;
Then sinks at once, unpitied and unbless’d,
A nation's scandal, and a nation's jest.

Nobility had something in her blood,
When to be great was only to be good :
Sublime she sat in virtue's sacred fane,
With all the sister graces in her train.
She still exists, 'tis true, in Grosvenor-Square,
And leads a life, a kind of—as it were

And see! self-shelter'd from the world's alarms,
The dying goddess sleeps in Fortune's arms;
From luxury attends her soft retreats,
The modest Frazi warbles while she eats ;
Arabia's sweets distil at every pore,
Her flatterers soothe her, and her slaves adore;
Indulged by all our senates to forget
Those worst of plagues, a promise and a debt.

Not but there are, amidst the titled crew,
Unknown to all but Collins, and the stew,
Men who improve their heaven-descended fires,
Rise on their blood, and beam upon their sires ;
Men who, like diamonds from Golconda's mine,
Call from themselves the ray that makes them shine.

Pleased let me view a Cecil's soul array'd With all that Plato gather'd in the shade ; Reflect how nobly Radnor can descend To lose his title in the name of friend; At Dorset look, and bid Hibernia own ller viceroy form’d to sit upon a throne; Admire how innocence can lend to truth Each grace of virtue, and each charm of youth, And then enraptured bend the suppliant knee To Heaven's high throne, 0 Rockingham ! for thee.

Let then vain fools their proud escutcheons view, Allied to half the Incas of Peru; With every vice those lineal glories stain That rose in Pharamond, or Charlemagne ; But ye, dear youths ! whom chance of genius calls To court pale wisdom in these hallow'd walls, Scorn ye to hang upon a blasted name, Andther's virtue, and another's fame :

In two short precepts all your business lies-
Would

you

be great -BE VIRTUOUS, AND BE WISE.

ODE TO HEALTH.

BY MR. DUNCOMBE.

Von est vivere, sed valere vita.

HEALTH! to thee thy votary owes
All the blessings life bestows,

All the sweets the summer yields,
Melodious woods, and clover'd fields;
By thee he tastes the calm delights

Of studious days and peaceful nights :
By thee his eye each scene with rapture views;
The Muse shall sing thy gifts, for they inspire the Muse.

Does increase of wealth impart
Transports to a bounteous heart?

Does the sire with smiles survey
His prattling children round him play?
Does love with mutual blushes streak

The swain's and virgin's artless cheek ?
From Health these blushes, siniles and transports

flow;

Wealth, children, love itself, to Health their relish owe.

Nymph, with thée, at early morn,
Let me brush the waving corn;

And, at noontide's sultry hour,
O bear me to the woodbine bawer!