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THE

LIFE OF STEPNEY,

BY DR. JOHNSON.

GEORGE STEPNEY, descended from the Stepneys of Pendigrast in Pembrokeshire,

was born at Westminster in 1663. Of his father's condition or fortune I have no account'. Having received the first part of his education at Westminster, where he passed six years in the college, he went at nineteen to Cambridge', where he continued a friendship begun at school with Mr. Montague, afterwards earl of Halifax. They came to London together, and are said to have been invited into public life by the duke of Dorset.

His qualifications recommended him to many foreign employments, so that his time seems to have been spent in negociations. In 1692 he was sent envoy to the elector of Brandenburgh; in 1693, to the imperial court; in 1694, to the elector of Saxony; in 1696, to the electors of Mentz and Cologne, and the congress at Frankfort; in 1698, a second time to Brandenburgh; in 1699, to the king of Poland; in 1701, again to the emperor; and in 1706, to the states general. In 1697 he was made one of the commissioners of trade. His life was busy, and not long. He died in 1707; and is buried in Westminster Abbey, with this epitaph, which Jacob transcribed:

H. S. E.

GEORGIUS STEPNEIUS, Armiger,
Vir

Ob Ingenii acumen,
Literarum Scientiam,

Morum Suavitatem,

Rerum Usum,

Virorum Amplissimorum Consuetudinem,

Linguæ, Styli, ac Vitæ Elegantiam,

Præclara Officia cum Britanniæ tum Europæ præstita,

Suâ ætate multum celebratus,

Apud posteros semper celebrandus;

1 It has been conjectured, that our poet was either son or grandson of Charles, third son of sir John Stepney, the first baronet of that family. Cole says, the poet's father was a grocer.

See Granger's History, vol. ii. p. 396, edit. 8vo. 1775. Mr.
Cole's MSS. in Brit. Mus. C.

He was entered of Trinity College, and took his master's degree in 1689. H.

Plurimas Legationes obiit
Eâ Fide, Diligentiâ, ac Felicitate,
Ut Augustissimorum Principum
Gulielmi et Annæ

Spem in illo repositam
Nunquam fefellerit,
Haud rarò superaverit.
Post longum honorum Cursum
Brevi Temporis Spatio confectum,

Cum Naturæ parum, Famæ satis vixerat,
Animam ad altiora aspirantem placidè efllavit.

On the left hand,

G. S.

Ex Equestri Familiâ Stepneiorum,

De Pendegrast, in Comitatu
Pembrochiensi oriundus,

Westmonasterii natus est, A. D. 1663,
Electus in Collegium

Sancti Petri Westmonast. A. 1676.
Sancti Trinitatis Cantab. 1682.
Consiliariorum quibus Commercii
Cura commissa est 1697.
Chelseiæ mortuus, et, comitante
Magnâ Procerum

Frequentiâ, huc elatus, 1707.

It is reported that the juvenile compositions of Stepney "made grey authors blush." I know not whether his poems will appear such wonders to the present age. One cannot always easily find the reason for which the world has sometimes conspired to squander praise. It is not very unlikely, that he wrote very early as well as he ever wrote; and the performances of youth have many favourers, because the authors yet lay no claim to public honours, and are therefore not considered as rivals by the distributors of fame.

He apparently professed himself a poet, and added his name to those of the other wits in the version of Juvenal; but he is a very licentious translator, and does not recompense his neglect of the author by beauties of his own. In his original poems, now and then, a happy line may perhaps be found, and now and then a short composition may give pleasure. But there is, in the whole, little either of the grace of wit, or the vigour of nature.

POEMS

OF

GEORGE STEPNEY.

ON THE MARRIAGE OF

GEORGE PRINCE OF DENMARK,
AND THE LADY ANNE',

CIRCUMVOLANTUM blanda Cupidinum
Huc Mater axes flectat eburneos,
Dum sævientis flagra dextræ

Chaoniæ metuant Columbæ.

Seu, ne jugales heu! nimium pigros
Damnent Amantes, ociùs, ociùs
Impelle currum fortiori

Remigio volitans Olorum.

Junctum marina Pelea Conjugi,
Seníque junctam Cyprida Troico,
Delira ne jactet vetustas,

Connubio superata nostro:

1 From the Hymenæus Cantabrigiensis, Cantabrigiæ, 1683. "It is reported," says Dr. Johnson, "that the juvenile compositions of Stepney made grey authors blush. I know not whether his poems will appear such wonders to the present age. One cannot always easily find the reason for which the world has sometimes conspired to squander praise. It is not very unlikely, that he wrote very early as well as he ever wrote; and the performances of youth have many favourers." The present poem is earlier than any one by Stepney hitherto printed; and will therefore without doubt be acceptable to the public. J. N.

2 Mr. Addison has made a fine use of the same allusion, in his beautiful verses to Kneller

The troubled Ocean's queen
Match'd with a mortal, &..

But he had the advantage of being able to add,
her short-liv'd darling son.
J. Duncomb.

Illustriori stemmate regiam
Ditabit aulam nobilior Parens;
Virtute et Ænean Nepotes,

Viribus et superent Achillem.
Quin bellicosæ gloria Cimbriæ,
Nunc invidendæ spes, decus Angliæ,
Ira, horror, et vultus minaces
In Dominæ tumulentur ulnis.

Cessate lites; spicula, machinæ
Dormite lethi; libret et unicus,
Præbent puellæ quas ocelli,
Armiger innocuus sagittas!

Quàm dulce vultu virgineo rubet
Pandora! (quantum, dum rubet, allicit!)
Tacetque, sed narrant vicissim
Lumina luminibus calores.

Liquisset Evan Gnosida, floridam
Tu, Phoebe, Daphnen hanc peteres magis a
Nec non Tonantis pluma mendax,

Cornua seu tegerent amores.

Lacæna nunquam damna modestiæ
Tulisset, Idæ si puer huc vagus
Errâsset, ardentes videret

Funere tergemino penates.
Flammasque viles crederet Пlii,
Mercede tali quis stadium piger
Fatale vitet? quis timeret

Oenomai fremitum sequentis?

Te præda nullo parta periculo,
Te gaza nullis empta laboribus
Expectat ultrò: fata, Princeps,

Hæc meritis statuêre tantis.

Ætas ut aptis vernet amoribus, Blando fideles murmure turtures, Nexuque vites arctiori, et

Basiolis superate conchas

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STEPNEY'S POEMS.

Nec dederit similem aut secundum;
Te, spes ruentis faustior imperî,
Nomen beabit Patris amabile,
Heroas illustres daturum,

Qui domitum moderentur orbem.
Infans Parenti laudibus æmulus
Assurgat, annos dissimulans breves:
Patris decorem mas verendum,
Matris et os referant Puellæ.

GEORGIUS STEPNEY,
Coll. Trin.

TO KING JAMES II.

UPON HIS ACCESSION TO THE THRone, 1684-5.

As victors lose the trouble they sustain
In greater trophies which the triumphs gain;
And martyrs, when the joyful crown is given,
Forget the pain by which they purchas'd Heaven:
So when the Phenix of our empire dy'd,
And with a greater heir the empty throne supply'd,
Your glory dissipates our mournful dew,
And turns our grief for Charles to joy for you.
Mysterious Fate, whose one decree could prove
The high extreme of cruelty, and love!

May then no flight of a blaspheming Muse,
Those wise resolves of Providence accuse,
Which eas'd our Atlas of his glorious weight,
Since stronger Hercules supports the state.
England no more shall pensive thoughts employ
On him she 'as lost; but him she has, enjoy.
So Ariadne, when her lover fled,

And Bacchus honour'd the deserted bed,
Ceas'd with her tears to raise the swelling flood,
Forgot her Theseus, and embrac'd the god.

ON THE

UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE'S

BURNING THE

But all in vain, since the wise house conspire
To damn the canvass-traitor to the fire,
Lest it, like bones of Scanderbeg, incite
Scythe-men next harvest to renew the fight.

Then in comes mayor Eagle, and does gravely
allege,

He'll subscribe, if he can, for a bundle of Sedge;
But the man of Clare-hall that proffer refuses,
'Snigs, he'll be beholden to none but the Muses;
And orders ten porters to bring the dull reams
On the death of good Charles, and crowning of James;
And swears he will borrow of the provost more stuff
On the marriage of Anne, if that be n't enough.
The heads, lest he get all the profit t' himself,
Too greedy of honour, too lavish of pelf,
This motion deny, and vote thot Tite Tillet
Should gather from each noble doctor a billet.
The kindness was common, and so they 'd return it,
The gift was to all, all therefore would burn it :
Thus joining their stocks for a bonfire together,
As they club for a cheese in the parish of Chedder;
Confusedly crowd on the sophs and the doctors,
{ale
The hangman, the townsmen, their wives, and the
proctors,
Come to quaff his confusion in bumpers of stale;
While the troops from each part of the countries in
Does by her absence their folly rebuke,
But Rosalin, never unkind to a duke,
The tender creature could not see his fate,
With whom she 'ad danc'd a minuet so late.
The heads, who never could hope for such frames,
Out of envy condemn'd sixscore pounds to the flames,
Then his air was too proud, and his features amiss,
As if being a traitor had alter'd his phiz:

So the rabble of Rome, whose favour ne'er settles,
Melt down their Sejanus to pots and brass kettles.

AN

EPISTLE TO CHARLES MONTAGUE, ES2.
AFTERWARDS EARL OF HALIFAX,

ON HIS MAJESTY'S VOYAGE TO HOLLAND.
SIR,

SINCE you oft invite me to renew

Art I've either lost, or never knew,

Pleas'd my past follies kindly to commend,
And fondly lose the critic in the friend;

DUKE OF MONMOUTH'S PICTURE, 1635, WHO WAS Though my warm youth untimely be decay'd,

FORMERLY THEIR CHANCELLOR.

IN ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION,

Sed quid

From grave to dull insensibly betray'd,
I'll contradict the humour of the times,
Inclin'd to business, and averse to rhymes,
And, to obey the man I love, in spite

Turba Remi? sequitur fortunam, et semper, et odit Of the world's genius and my own, I'll write.
Damnatos

YES, fickle Cambridge, Perkins found this true,
Both from your rabble and your doctors too,
With what applause you once receiv'd his grace,
And begg'd a copy of his godlike face;
But when the sage vice-chancellor was sure
The original in limbo lay secure,
As greasy as himself he sends a lictor,
To vent his loyal malice on the picture.
The beadle's wife endeavours all she can
To save the image of the tall young man,
Which she so oft when pregnant did embrace,
That with strong thoughts she might improve her

race;

But think not that I vainly do aspire
To rival what I only would admire,
The heat and beauty of your manly thought,
And force like that with which your hero fought;
Like Samson's riddle is that powerful song,
Sweet as the honey, as the lion strong;
The colours there so artfully are laid,
They fear no lustre, and they want no shade;
But shall of writing a just model give,
While Boyne shall flow, and William's glory live.
Yet since his every act may well infuse
Some happy rapture in the humblest Muse,
Though mine despairs to reach the wondrous height,
The king's the theme, and I've a subject's right.
She prunes her pinions, eager of the flight;

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When William's deeds, and rescued Europe's joy,
Do every tongue and every pen employ,
'Tis to think treason sure, to show no zeal,
And not to write, is almost to rebel.

Let Albion then forgive her meanest son,
Who would continue what her best begun;
Who, leaving conquests and the pomp of war,
Would sing the pious king's divided care;
How eagerly he flew, when Europe's fate
Did for the seed of future actions wait;
And how two nations did with transport boast,
Which was belov'd, and lov'd the victor most:
How joyful Belgia gratefully prepar'd
Trophies and vows for her returning lord;
How the fair Isle with rival passion strove,
How by her sorrow she express'd her love,
When he withdrew from what his arm, had freed,
And how she bless'd his way, yet sigh'd, and said:
"Is it decreed my hero ne'er shall rest,
Ne'er be of me, and I of him possess'd?
Scarce had I met his virtue with my throne,
By right, by merit, and by arms his own,
But Ireland's freedom, and the war's alarms,
Call'd him from me and his Maria's charms.
O generous prince, too prodigally kind!
Can the diffusive goodness of your mind
Be in no bounds, but of the world, confin'd?
Should sinking nations summon you away,
Maria's love might justify your stay.
Imperfectly the many vows are paid,
Which for your safety to the gods were made,
While on the Boyne they labour'd to outdo
Your zeal for Albion by their care for you;
When, too impatient of a glorious ease,
You tempt new dangers on the winter seas.
The Belgic state has rested long secure
Within the circle of thy guardian power;
Rear'd by thy care, that noble lion, grown
Mature in strength, can range the woods alone;
When to my arms they did the prince resign,
I bless'd the change, and thought him wholly
mine;

Conceiv'd long hopes I jointly should obey
His stronger, and Maria's gentle sway;
He fierce as thunder, she as lightning bright;
One my defence, and t'other my delight:
Yet go-where honour calls the hero, go;
Nor let your eyes behold how mine do flow:
Go meet your country's joy, your virtue's due;
Receive their triumphs, and prepare for new;
Enlarge my empire, and let France afford
The next large harvest to thy prosperous sword:
Again in Crescy let my arms be rear'd,
And o'er the continent Britannia fear'd:
While under Mary's tutelary care,
Far from the danger, or the noise of war,
In honourable pleasure I possess

The spoils of conquest, and the charms of peace.
As the great lamp by which the globe is bless'd,
Constant in toil, and ignorant of rest,

Through different regions does his course pursue,
And leaves one world but to revive a new;
While, by a pleasing change, the queen of Night
Relieves his lustre with a milder light:
So when your beams do distant nations cheer,
The partner of your crown shall mount the sphere,
Able alone my empire to sustain,

And carry, on the glories of thy reign-
But why has Fate maliciously decreed,

That greatest blessings must by turns succeed?"
VOL. VIII.

Here she relented, and would urge his stay
By all that fondness and that grief could say;
But soon did her presaging thoughts employ
On scenes of triumphs and returning joy.
Thus, like the tide, while her unconstant breast
Was swell'd with rapture, by despair depress'd,
Fate call'd; the hero must his way pursue,
And her cries lessen'd as the shore withdrew.

The winds were silent, and the gentle main
Bore an auspicious omen of his reign;
When Neptune, owning whom those seas obey,
Nodded, and bade the cheerful Tritons play.
Each chose a different subject for their lays,
But Orange was the burthen of their praise:
Some in their strains up to the fountain ran,
From whence this stream of virtue first began:
Others chose heroes of a later date,
And sung the founder of the neighbouring state;
How daringly he tyranny withstood,

And seal'd his country's freedom with his blood;
Then to the two illustrious brethren 2 came,
The glorious rivals of their father's fame;
And to the youth 3, whose pregnant hopes outran
The steps of Time, and early show'd the man;
For whose alliance monarchs did contend,
And gave a daughter to secure a friend.
But as by Nature's law the Phenix dies,
That from its urn a nobler bird may rise,
So Fate ordain'd the parent soon should set,
To make the glories of his heir complete.

At William's name each fill'd his vocal shell,
And on the happy sound rejoic'd to dwest:
Some sung his birth, and how discerning Fate
Sav'd infant Virtue against powerful Hate;
Of poisonous snakes by young Alcides quell'd,
And palms that spread the more, the more withheld
Some sung Seneffe, and early wonders done
By the bold youth, himself a war alone;
And how his firmer courage did oppose
His country's foreign and intestine foes;
The lion he, who held their arrows close.
Others sung Perseus, and the injur'd maid,
Redeem'd by the wing'd warrior's timely aid;
Or in mysterious numbers did unfold
Sad modern truths, wrapt up in tales of old;
How Saturn, flush'd with arbitrary power,
Design'd his lawful issue to devour;
But Jove, reserv'd for better fate, withstood
The black contrivance of the doating god;
With arms he came, his guilty father fled,
'Twas Italy secur'd his frighted head,
And by his flight resign'd his empty throne
And triple empire to his worthier son.

Then in one note their artful force they join,
Eager to reach the victor and the Boyne;
How on the wondering bank the hero stood,
Lavishly bold and desperately good:
Till Fate, designing to convince the brave,
That they can dare no more than Heaven can save,
Let Death approach, and yet withheld the sting,
Wounded the man, distinguishing the king.

They had enlarg'd, but found the strain too strong,
And in soft notes allay'd the bolder song:

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Flow, gentle Boyne," they cry'd, "and round thy bed

For ever may victorious wreaths be spread;

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