Volume IV Part 2 (1/2)
But each in some peculiar grace shall s.h.i.+ne!
Or to excel in courts, and please the fair!
Or Conquest gain thro' all the wat'ry war!
With harmony divine the ear to charm!
Or souls with more melodious numbers warm!
By wond'rous memory shall some excel In awful senates, and in speaking well!
To hold Astraea's scales with equal hand, And call back justice to that happy land!
To teach mankind how best the G.o.ds to praise!
To fix their minds in truth's unerring ways!
'Thus all her honours, Bristol's sons shall wear, Whilst each his country's good shall make his chiefest care!'
[Footnote A: This is not designed as a parallel of the story, but the painting from a piece of t.i.tian's, at my lord Bristol's.]
[Footnote B: A sister of lord Bristol's, who was a lady of most extraordinary beauty.]
HENRY NEEDLER,
This Poet was born at Harley in Surry, in the year 1690, and educated at a private school at Ryegate in the same county[A]. He was removed from thence in 1705, and in 1708 accepted a small place in a public office; where he continued the remainder of his days.
About this time contracting a friends.h.i.+p with a gentleman of a like taste, who furnished him with proper books, he applied himself at his intervals of leisure, to reading the dailies, and to the study of logic, metaphysics, and the mathematics, with which last he was peculiarly delighted. And in a few years by the force of his own happy genius, and unwearied diligence, without the a.s.sistance of any master, he acquired a considerable knowledge of the most difficult branches of those useful and entertaining studies.
By so close an application, he contracted a violent pain in his head, which notwithstanding the best advice, daily encreased. This, and other unfortunate circ.u.mstances concurring, so deeply affected him, who had besides in his const.i.tution a strong tincture of melancholy, that he was at last brought under almost a total extinction of reason.
In this condition he fell into a fever; and as there were before scarce any hopes of him, it may be said to have happily put an end to the deplorable bondage of so bright a mind, on the 21st of December, 1718, in the 29th year of his age. He was buried in the church of Friendsbury, near Rochester.
Mr. Needler's life was influenced by the principles of sincere, unaffected piety, and virtue.
On all occasions (says Mr. Duncomb) 'he was a strenuous advocate for universal toleration and forbearance in matters of religion; rightly supposing that no service can be acceptable to the supreme Being, unless it proceeds from the heart; and that force serves only to make hypocrites, but adds no new lights to the understanding. He was modest to a fault, entertaining the most humble opinion of his own performances; and was always ready to do justice to those of others.
His affection for his friends indeed sometimes bia.s.sed his judgment, and led him to the commending their writings beyond their merit.'
In the volume of Mr. Needler's works, are printed some familiar Letters, upon moral, and natural subjects. They are written with elegance and taste; the heart of a good man may be traced in them all, and equally abound with pious notions, as good sense, and solid reasoning.--He seems to have been very much master of smooth versification, his subjects are happily chosen, and there is a philosophical air runs through all his writings; as an instance of this, we shall present our readers with a copy of his verses addressed to Sir Richard Blackmore, on his Poem, int.i.tled The Creation.
Dress'd in the charms of wit and fancy, long The muse has pleas'd us with her syren song; But weak of reason, and deprav'd of mind, Too oft on vile, ign.o.ble themes we find The wanton muse her sacred art debase, Forgetful of her birth, and heavenly race; Too oft her flatt'ring songs to sin intice, And in false colours deck delusive vice; Too oft she condescends, in servile lays, The undeserving rich and great to praise.
These beaten paths, thy loftier strains refuse With just disdain, and n.o.bler subjects chuse: Fir'd with sublimer thoughts, thy daring soul Wings her aspiring flight from Pole to Pole, Observes the foot-steps of a pow'r divine, Which in each part of nature's system s.h.i.+ne; Surveys the wonders of this beauteous frame, And sings the sacred source, whence all things came.
But Oh! what numbers shall I find to tell, The mighty transports which my bosom swell, Whilst, guided by thy tuneful voice, I stray Thro' radiant worlds, and fields of native day, Wasted from orb, to orb, unwearied fly Thro' the blue regions of the yielding sky; See how the spheres in stated courses roll, And view the just composure of the whole!
Such were the strains, by antient Orpheus sung.
To such, Mufaeus' heav'nly lyre was strung; Exalted truths, in learned verse they told, And nature's deepest secrets did unfold.