« VorigeDoorgaan »
Like some lone Chartreux stands the good old Hall,
Not so his Son, he mark'd this oversight,
" Yet sure, of qualities deserving praise,
« More go to ruin fortunes than to raise. which, as they seemed to be necessary to do justice to the gene. ral Character going to be described, I advised him to insert in their place.
'Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup, And Zeal for that great House which eats him up. The Woods recede around the naked feat, The sylvans groan-no matter-for the Fleet: 210 Next goes
his Wool-to clothe our valiant bands, Laft, for his Country's love, he sells his Lands. To town he comes, completes the nation's hope, And heads the bold Train-bands, and burns a Pope. And shall not Britain now reward his toils,
215 Britain, that pays her Patriots with her Spoils ? In vain at Court the Bankrupt pleads his cause, His thankless Country leaves him to her Laws.
The Sense to value Riches, with the Art T' enjoy them, and the Virtue to impart, Not meanly, nor ambitiously pursu'd, Not sunk by sloth, nor rais'd by fervitude ; To balance Fortune by a just expence, Join with Economy, Magnificence; With Splendor, Charity; with Plenty, Health; 225 Oh teach us, BATHURST! yet unspoil'd by wealth!
Where one lean herring furnishid Cotta's board,
That secret rare, between th' extremes to move
P. Who starves by Nobles, or with Nobles eats ?
VER. 243. Oxford's better part,] Edward Harley, Earl of Oxford. The son of Robert, created Earl of Oxford, and Earl
That secret rare, with affluence hardly join'd,
Where-e'er he shines, oh Fortune, gild the scene,
But all our praises why should Lords engross?
255 Or in proud falls magnificently lost, But clear and artless, pouring thro' the plain Health to the fick, and solace to the swain ?
Mortimer by Queen Anne. This nobleman died regretted by all men of letters, great numbers of whom had experienced his benefits. He left behind him one of the most noble Libraries in Europe.
VER. 250. The Man of Ross :] The person here celebrated, who with a small Estate actually performed all these good works, and whose true name was almost loft (partly by the title of the Man of Ross given him by way of eminence, and partly by being buried without so much as an inscription) was called Mr. John Kyrle. He died in the year 1724, aged 9c, and lies interred in the chancel of the church of Ross in Herefordshire,
After x 250. in the MS.
Trace humble worth beyond Sabrina's shore,
Whose Cause-way parts the vale with fhady rows ?
any sick ? the Man of Ross relieves, Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives, Is there a variance; enter but his door,
271 Balk'd are the Courts, and contest is no more, Despairing Quacks with curses fled the place, And vile Attorneys, now an useless race.
B. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue 275 What all so wish, but want the pow'r to do! Oh say, what sums that gen'rous hand supply? What mines to swell that boundless charity ?
P. Of Debts, and Taxes, Wife and Children clear, This man poffeft---five hundred pounds a year. 280 Blush, Grandeur, blush! proud Courts, withdraw
blaze! Ye little Stars! hide
VER. 281. Blush, Grandeur, blush! proud Courts, withdraw your blaze ! etc.] In this sublime apostrophe, they are not bid to blush because outstript in virtue, for no such contention is