THE IMPARTIAL. AN ADDRESS, without FLATTERY. BEING A POET's Free Thoughts ON THE Situation
of our
PUBLIC AFFAIRS, ANNO 1744.
LONDON:
Printed for M. COOPER, in
Pater-noster Row.
M. DCC. XLIV.
TO THE GREAT ORIGINAL Of the Following PICTURE.
MY LORD,
T HAT I decline the Honour of attending, with at least one
honest Address,
is from some Hazard there might be, of your mistaking the true Motive of it. Free from all Ambition to make One, among the Worshippers of your
Fortune,
I present you, and at Distance too, a bare Confession of your
Virtues.
TO know the Writer of this Piece, can be of no Importance to your Lordship. He lies too low to merit a great Minister's Inquiry. It will please the Public better, that he knows YOU, rightly: and, that he does so, he appeals to the Poem.
HE is too well acquainted with the modern Turn of Sentiment, in some, (who, for a few Years, must be
called)
Great Men, to look for any present Consequence, from
Poetry;
where even the Best finds more Contempt than due
Discernment.
But, at the same time he knows, that this is One, among the Faults of bad Administration, which a Soul like Yours came qualified to think
worth mending:
And we might have had more Certainty, that you would do it, had you been as pleased with your own Profit, as the Public's; since the clearest Interest is
His,
in every Honour done the
Muses,
who is born for Actions, of a Pitch
above the Spirit
of cold Writers.
I HAVE nothing more to trouble you with, except the warm and just good Wishes of
Your
LORDSHIP
's
quondam
Schoolfellow, And One of your sincerest Humble Servants,
IGNOTUS.
THE IMPARTIAL: AN ADDRESS, without FLATTERY.
A RE these the Marks, then, of our promis'd
Shame!
Or did Detraction steal the Patriot's Name?
Weak, if we were, how rose we, now, so strong?
Or whence, if pow'rful, were we scorn'd, so long?
Burn, sooty Slander, burn, thy blotted Scroll:
Greatness is Greatness, spite of Faction's
Soul.
I GAZE, astonish'd Kingdom, o'er thy Face,
And each weigh'd Wonder to its Fountain trace.
Glory flows in, where Infamy was spread:
And long-lost Triumph lifts her tow'ry Head.
Warm, o'er the icy
North,
thy influent Awe
Bids hostile Leagues
dissolve,
in friendly Thaw.
Up
Rhine's
long Stream
Britannic
Thunders winde,
And
Alpine
Mountains shake—and States, behind.
Austria's
plum'd Eagle, beak'd and wing'd once more,
Sees baffled
Bourbon
driv'n, from Shore to Shore.
Sea-shook
Ausonia,
red with warring Hosts,
Starts, from her
Adrian,
to her
Tyrrhene,
Coasts.
Ev'n
Rome's
imperious
Mitre
learns to
bow!
And
Spain's
THALESTRIS is, but,
Woman,
now!
WHENCE this amazing Change?—'twas, late, all,
Fear:
No warring God, invok'd, inclin'd his Ear.
Tyrants, combin'd, found Freedom's Rights betray'd:
Faith, fast-expiring, saw the False invade,
Commerce cajol'd, Reluctance brib'd, Rage tame:
Ev'n
Empire trod on—
yet, untouch'd by Shame!
Then, was the
Crisis;
then, Fate's Hand appear'd:
Then might the World be deaf—for,
Britain
heard.
Wave-worship'd
Britain!
One, to All, oppos'd!
By Friends deserted, and by Foes inclos'd,
Fills the World's Eye; dispels the
Doubter's
Care;
Bids the Bold tremble, and the Backward dare:
High, to the Nations, points their
Guardian's
Throne,
And acts, and arbitrates, and shines,
alone.
AND have such Fires inflam'd a patient Reign?
Immortal Heav'n! and must we, still,
complain?
Still, must we rail, and blacken, and suspect?
At once, curb Vigilance, and
goad
Neglect?
Deep let my Soul detest th'
adhesive
Pride,
That, changing Sentiment, unchanges Side:
True, to Contempt of Truth, repents within—
Yet, screens Conviction; and
strains hard,
to sin.
SHAME on this Craft, to
scare!—
this Toil, to
seem!
O Heart, indignant, fly th'unmanly Scheme:
Blush, for thy past Injustice; shrink no more;
But wake—and wonder, thou wert dark, before!
Learn, from
whose Hand
th'unlook'd-for Effluence came:
And, in the Teeth of Insult,
sound his Name.
WHAT, tho' some Friend thou lov'st had narrower Sight?
Truth knows no
Parties;
and involves, like
Light.
Shadows and Names fright Cowards—but the Strong
Ne'er call That
Lightness,
which is
Scorn
of
Wrong.
Dare to be
just:
'tis all that Brav'ry means▪
He stoops too basely, who to
Flatt'ry
leans:
But, whome pale
Prejudice
has taught his Part,
Born, for a Slave, wears Fetters, on his
Heart;
Sees, undiscerning; feels, without his Touch;
Judges, too little—and decides too much.
POETS have nobler Souls: Fame's Paths, they
show:
They glow themselves—and teach the
World,
to glow.
Satire
's whole Pow'r their own—yet,
Praise,
they
chuse:
Ev'n of unconscious Kings, who
slight
the Muse.
Proud of neglected Force, each Heav'n-touch'd Mind,
Open, to Reason, is, to Int'rest, blind:
Self all un-thought of, can, for others, think:
Swim, till the State
rides safe—
then, smile, and
sink;
Lift, ev'n the Worth that hates him; love it
shown;
And, for his Country's Joys,
exclude
his own,
This
is to think, like
Muses;
act, like MAN:
This,
Princes
OUGHT to feel—and
Poets
CAN.
YE, once misguided! is Retraction
vain?
Trust the Brave injur'd: nor persist, to stain.
Why should
Suspicion
Penitence outlive?
None doubt Forgiveness, but who ne'er forgive.
HEAV'N has been
wrong'd:
yet, still, goes on to
bless.
For, Sins of Blindness err,
beneath
Distress.
So wrong'd, so pard'ning,
Cart'ret
heeds no Foe;
But
saves—
unangry at, the
Rage below.
OFF with these shackly
Quoils,
of twine'd Intrigue;
These Nets for Liberty, these Links of League.
Trite, venal,
Cants!
which Envy's Arts can teach
To censure ev'ry Pow'r, we fail to
reach.
No gen'rous Heart, misdrawn to devious
Beat,
When Truth's new Lustre shines, disclaims its Heat.
Charm'd, and surpris'd, I
hug
my Country's Fame;
Compar'd, O Heav'n! with Years, of length'ning
Shame.
YE
Sons,
who love Her, weigh the threat'ning Swell,
Of
Spain, France,
Faction, Calumny, and Hell!
Weigh, with what
Speed,
repell'd from
Mound
to
Mound,
Subsiding Danger sought her
bidden
Bound!
Hail the white Cliffs of
Albion,
held, serene,
While round her, redd'ning, rolls the
bloody
Scene.
I hail it,
All:—
and hail th' acknowledg'd CAUSE!
Hail the Mind's
Reach,
that gives Earth's Uproar LAWS!
Safe, mid surrounding
Menace,
guards Mankind!
Guides ev'ry Council! busies ev'ry Wind!
Shakes the World's Shakers!
hears,
for Land and Main,
And binds fell Tyrants, while they
bite
their Chain.
YE Muse-made
Mentors!
rais'd, on Fancy's Wings,
To think for Heroes, and to reign for Kings;
When cou'd your Sons, of Time's
feign'd
Births, do more?
For, ne'er,
true
Story reach'd
these Heights,
before.
FAV'RITES have,
oft,
in many a troubled State,
Poiz'd the
King
's
Love,
against the
People
's
Hate;
Oft,
the firm Leader, in some Patriot Scheme,
Has, with bold Steerage,
stemm'd
the
Royal
Stream:
And,
sometimes,
too,—yet rare, too rare, that Praise!
The Safe at home,
abroad
have gather'd
Bays.
But NONE, till
Cart'ret
rose, e'er hop'd to
see
One mast'ring Genius
grasp th'
UNWILLING THREE!
Prince half confiding—People All unjust—
Abroad
All Discord,
and at home, Distrust—
Propp'd on
Himself,
like the World's
Weight,
he lay;
And, thro'
Contention's Impulse,
shape'd his
Way;
Heard the clash'd Elements—despis'd their Brawl—
Roll'd on, self-centred—and
inorb'd 'em, All!
FINIS.