Bell's Classical Arrangement of Fugitive Poetry (Volume 1) (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1790. Excerpt: ... EPISTLE XL TO THE LORD riSC. CORNBURT. BT THE LA1E EARL NUGENT. While you, my Lord, alas amidst a few, With generous warmth your country's good pursue; While to that centre all your wishes tend, Accept the zeal that prompts a willing friend. Others like you heav'n's hallow'd spark inspir'd, Whom soon the blaze of selfish passion fir'd, Soon ruder flames extinguish'd reason's light, While prejudices foul'd their jaundiced sight. Such through false optics every object prove, And try the good and bad, by hate and love. All-powerful means each virtue to supply, All-powerful means each virtue to deny; To Wyndham's strength, and grace, and fire, and weight; To Grenville parts, to save a sinking state. Hence various judgments form the madden'd throng, Only in this alike, they all are wrong. Hence to false praise shall blame unjust succeed, And cherubs fall, and gods unpity'd bleed. Would you, my friend, not mix the purer flame, Nor lose the patriot in a baser name; Nor factious rage mistake for public zeal, Nor private int'rest for the gen'ral weal? By truth's sure test let every deed by try'd, And justice ever be th' unerring guide. Her rules are plain, and easy is her way, And yet how hard to find if once we stray All lost alike the maze perplex'd we tread, However prompted, whether drove or led; Whether false honor or ambition goad, Or sneaking av'rice wind the miry road, Or whether sway'd by passions not our own, And the weak fear of being right alone. Alone in such a cause 'tis base to fear, Though fools suspect, and knaves designing sneer. Sneer, villains, sneer th' avenging time is nigh, When Balbo scourg'd shall weep the taunting lie; When Stopus foul with each imputed crime, Shall dread false prose repaid with honest rhyme. 'Tis not enough you scorn ...