Enamour'd of the Seine, celestial fair,
The blooming pride of Thetis' azure train!
Bacchus, to win the nymph who caused his care, Lash'd his swift tigers to the Celtick plain :
There secret in her sapphire cell
He with the Naiads wont to dwell;
Leaving the nectar'd feasts of Jove :
And where her mazy waters flow,
He gave the mantling vine, to grow
A trophy to his love.
Shall man from nature's sanction stray,
With blind opinion for his guide;
And, rebel to her rightful sway,
Leave all his bounties unenjoy'd?
Fool! time no change of motion knows ;
With equal speed the torrent flows,
To sweep fame, power, and wealth away :
The past is all by death possess'd;
And frugal fate that guards the rest,
By giving, bids him live to-day.
O Gower! through all that destin'd space
What breath the powers allot to me
Shall sing the virtues of thy race
United, and complete in thee.
O flower of ancient English faith,
Pursue th' unbeaten patriot-path,
In which confirm'd thy father shone:
The light his fair example gives,
Already from thy dawn receives.
A lustre equal to its own.
Honour's bright dome, on lasting columns rear'd,
envy rusts, nor rolling years consume;
Loud Paans echoing round the roof are heard,
And clouds of incense all the void perfume.
There Phocion, Lælius, Capel, Hyde,
With Falkland seated near his side,
Fix'd by the Muse the Temple grace:
Prophetick of thy happier fame,
She, to receive thy radiant name,
Selects a whiter space.
De Foe was more successful as an author than as a tradesman, and recommended himself to King William by his "True-born Englishman," which he wrote in opposition to Tutchin's," Foreigners." The History of Robinson Crusoe will however, render him more deservedly popular than all his poetry and politicks, in which latter he dealed largely.
From the True-Born Englishman.
THE breed's describ'd: Now, Satire, if you can,
Their temper show, for Manners make the Man.
Fierce, as the Britain; as the Roman, brave;
And less inclined to conquer, than to save:
Eager to fight, and lavish of their blood;
And equally of fear and forecast void.
The Pict has made 'em sowre, the Dane morose : False from the Scot, and from the Norman worse.
What honesty they have, the Saxons gave them, And that, now they grow old, begins to leave them.
The climate makes them terrible and bold;
And English beef their courage does uphold.
No danger can their daring spirit pull,
Always provided that their belly's full.
In close intrigues their faculty's but weak,
For generally whate'er they know, they speak:
And often their own councils undermine,
By their infirmity and not design;
From whence the learned say it does proceed,
That English treasons never can succeed :
For they're so open-hearted, you may know
Their own most sacred thoughts, and others too.
The lab'ring poor, in spight of double pay,
Are sawcy, mutinous, and beggarly:
So lavish of their money and their time,
That want of forecast is the nation's crime,
Good drunken company is their delight,
And what they get by day, they spend by night.
Dull thinking seldom does their heads engage,
But drink their youth away, and hurry on old age.
Empty of all good husbandry and sense;
And void of manners most, when void of pence.
Their strong aversion to behaviour's such,
They always talk too little, or too much.
So dull, they never take the pains to think
And seldom are good-natur'd, but in drink.
From Reformation of Manners.
Now Satire, give another wretch his due,
Who's chosen to reform the city too;
Hate him, ye friends to honesty and sense,
Hate him in injured beauty's just defence;
A knighted Booby insolent and base,
"Whom man по manners gave, nor God no grace."
The scorn of women, and the shame of men,
Match'd at threescore to innocent fifteen;
Hag-rid with jealous whimsies lets us know,
He thinks he's cuckold 'cause he should be so.
His virtuous wife exposes to the town,
And fears her crimes, because he knows his own,
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