Part 33 (2/2)
V.
Now, heavenly Muse, thy choicest song prepare: Let loftier strains the glorious subject suit: Lo! hand in hand, advance th' enamour'd pair, This Chatham's son, and that the drudge of Bute; Proud of their mutual love, Like Nisus and Euryalus they move, To Glory's steepest heights together tend, Each careless for himself, each anxious for his friend!
Hail! a.s.sociate Politicians!
Hail! sublime Arithmeticians!
Hail! vast exhaustless source of Irish Propositions!
Sooner our gracious King From heel to heel shall cease to swing; Sooner that brilliant eye shall leave its socket; Sooner that hand desert the breeches pocket, Than constant George consent his friends to quit, And break his plighted faith to Jenkinson and Pitt!
CHORUS.
Hail! most prudent Politicians!
Hail! correct Arithmeticians!
Hail! vast exhaustless source of Irish propositions!
VI.
Oh! deep unfathomable Pitt!
To thee Ierne owes her happiest days!
Wait a bit, And all her sons shall loudly sing thy praise!
Ierne, happy, happy Maid!
Mistress of the Poplin trade!
Old Europa's fav'rite daughter, Whom first emerging from the water, In days of yore, Europa bore, To the celestial Bull!
Behold thy vows are heard, behold thy joys are full!
Thy fav'rite Resolutions greet, They're not much changed, there's no deceit!
Pray be convinc'd, they're still the true ones, Though sprung from thy prolific head, Each resolution hath begotten new ones, And like their sires, all Irish born and bred!
Then haste, Ierne, haste to sing, G.o.d save great George! G.o.d save the King!
May thy sons' sons to him their voices tune, And each revolving year bring back the fourth of June!
_NUMBER XXI._
ADDRESS.
Agreeably to the request of the Right Reverend Author, the following Ode is admitted into this collection; and I think it but justice to declare, that I have diligently scanned it on my fingers; and, after repeated trials, to the best of my knowledge, believe the Metre to be of the Iambic kind, containing three, four, five, and six feet in one line, with the occasional addition of the hypercatalectic syllable at stated periods. I am, therefore, of opinion, that the composition is certainly verse; though I would not wish to p.r.o.nounce too confidently. For further information I shall print his Grace's letter.
TO SIR JOHN HAWKINS, BART.
SIR JOHN, As I understand you are publis.h.i.+ng an authentic Edition of the Probationary Odes. I call upon you to do me the justice of inserting the enclosed. It was rejected on the Scrutiny by Signor Delpini, for reasons which must have been suggested by the malevolence of some rival. The reasons were, 1st, That the Ode was nothing but prose, written in an odd manner; and, 2dly, That the Metre, if there be any, as well as many of the thoughts, are stolen from a little Poem, in a Collection called the UNION. To a man, blest with an ear so delicate as your's, Sir John, I think it unnecessary to say any thing on the first charge; and as to the second, (would you believe it?) the Poem from which I am accused of stealing is my own! Surely an Author has a right to make free with his own ideas, especially when, if they were ever known, they have long since been forgotten by his readers. You are not to learn, Sir John, that _de non apparentibus & non existentibus eadem est ratio:_ and nothing but the active spirit of literary jealousy, could have dragged forth my former Ode from the obscurity, in which it has long slept, to the disgrace of all good taste in the present age. However, that you and the public may see, how little I have really taken, and how much I have opened the thoughts, and improved the language of that little, I send you _my imitations of myself_, as well as some few explanatory notes, necessary to elucidate my cla.s.sical and historical allusions.
I am, SIR JOHN, With every wish for your success, Your most obedient humble servant, WILLIAM YORK.
PINDARIC ODE,
By DR. W. MARKHAM, Lord Archbishop of York, Primate of England, and Lord High Almoner to his Majesty, formerly Preceptor to the Princes, Head Master of Westminster School, &c. &c. &c.
STROPHE I.
The priestly mind what virtue so approves, And testifies the pure prelatic spirit, As loyal grat.i.tude?
More to my King, than to my G.o.d, I owe; G.o.d and my father made me man, Yet not without my mother's added aid; But George, without, or G.o.d, or man, With grace endow', and hallow'd me Archbishop.
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