If you tralineate from your father's mind,
What are you else but of a bastard kind?
Do as your great progenitors have done,
And, by their virtues, prove yourself their son.
No father can infuse or wit or grace;

A mother comes across, and mars the race.
A grandsire or a grandame taints the blood;
And seldom three descents continue good.
Were virtue by descent, a noble name
Could never villanize his father's fame;
But, as the first, the last of all the line,
Would, like the son, e'en in descending shine
Take fire, and bear it to the darkest house,
Betwixt king Arthur's court and Caucasus;
If you depart, the flame shall still remain,
And the bright blaze enlighteu all the plain: .
Nor, till the fuel perish, can decay,

By nature form'd on things combustible to prey.

Such is not man, who, mixing better seed
With worse, begets a base degenerate breed:
The bad corrupts the good, and leaves behind
No trace of all the great begetter's mind.
The father sinks within his son, we see,
And often rises in the third degree;
If better luck a better mother give,
Chance gave us being, and by chance we live
Such as our atoms were, e'en such are we,
Or call it chance, or strong necessity:
Thus loaded with dead weight, the will is free
And thus it needs must be: for seed conjoin'd
Lets into nature's work the imperfect kind
But fire, the enlivener of the general frame,
Is onc, its operation still the same.

Its principle is in itself: while ours [powers,
Works, as confederates war, with minglea
Or man or woman, whichsoever fails :
And, oft, the vigour of the worse prevails.
Ether with sulphur blended alters hue,
And casts a dusky gleam of Sodom blue.
Thus, in a brute, their ancient honour ends,
And the fair mermaid in a fish descends:
The line is gone; no longer duke or earl;
But, by himself degraded, turns a churl.
Nobility of blood is but renown

Of thy great fathers by their virtue known,
And a long trail of light, to thee descending

down.

If in thy smoke it ends, their glories shine:
But infamy and villanage are thine.
Then what I said before is plainly show'd,
The true nobility proceeds from God:
Nor left us by inheritance, but given
By bounty of our stars, and grace of heaven.
Thus from a captive Servius Tullius rose,
Whom for his virtues the first Romans chose
Fabricius from their walls repell'd the foe,
Whose noble hands had exercis'd the plough

From hence, my lord and love, I thus conclude,
That though my homely ancestors were rude,
Mean as I am, yet I may have the grace
To make you father of a generous race:
And noble then am I, when I begin,
In virtue cloth'd, to cast the rags of sin.
If poverty be my upbraided crime,
And you believe in Heaven, there was a tinie
When he, the great controller of our fate,
Deign'd to be man; and liv'd in low estate :
Which he who had the world at his dispose
If poverty were vice, would never choose.
Philosophers have said, and poets sing,
That a glad poverty 's an honest thing.
Content is wealth, the riches of the mind;
And happy he who can that treasure find.
But the base miser starves amidst his store,
Broods on his gold, and, griping still at more,
Sits sadly pining, and believes he's poor,
The ragged beggar, though he want relief,
Has not to lose, and sings before the thief.
Want is a bitter and a hateful good,*
Because its virtues are not understood:
Yet many things, impossible to thought,
Have been by need to full perfection brought.
The daring of the soul proceeds from thence,
Sharpness of wit, and active diligence
Prudence at once, and fortitude, it gives,
And, if in patience taken, mends our lives
For e'en that indigence, that brings me low,
Makes me myself, and Him above, to know
A good which none would challenge, few would
choose,

A fair possession, which mankind refuse.
If we from wealth to poverty descend,
Want gives to know the flatterer from the
friend.
you,

If I am old and ugly, well for
No lewd adulterer will my love pursue.
Nor jealousy, the bane of married life,
Shall haunt you for a wither'd homely wife,
For age and ugliness, as all agree
Are the best guards of female chastity.
Yet since I see your mind is worldly bent,
I'll do my best to further your content
And therefore of two gifts in my dispose,
Think ere you speak, I grant you leave 10
choose:

Would you I should be still deform'd and old,
Nauseous to touch, and loathsome to behold;

• Want is a bitter and a hateful good] 'In this commendation of poverty, our author seems plainly to have had in view the following passage of a fabulous conference between the Emperor Adrian and Secundus the philosopher, reported by Vincent of Beauvais, Spec. His. 1. x. c. 71. Quid est Panpertas? Odibile bonum; sanitatis mater; remotio curarum; sapientiæ repertrix; negotium sine dam no, possessio abssue calumnia; sine sollicitu dine felicitas' T.

True priests, he said, and preachers of the word,
Were only stewards of their sovereign Lord;
Nothing was theirs; but all the public store-
Intrusted riches to relieve the poor.
Who, should they steal, for want of his relief,
He judg'd himself accomplice with the thief.
Wide was his parish; not contracted close
In streets, but here and there a straggling
house;

Yet still he was at hand, without request,
To serve the sick; to succour the distress'd:
Tempting, on foot, alone, without affright,
The dangers of a dark tempestuous night.

All this the good old man perform'd alone,
Nor spar'd his pains; for curate he had none.
Nor durst he trust another with his care;
Nor rode himself to Paul's, the public fair,
To chaffer for preferment with his gold,
Where bishoprics and sinecures are sold,
But duly watch'd his flock, by night and day;
And from the prowling wolf redeem'd the prey:
And hungry sent the wily fox away.

The proud he tam'd, the penitent he cheer'd: Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd. His preaching much, but more his practice wrought;

(A living sermon of the truths he taught ;) For this by rules severe his life he squar'd: That all might see the doctrine which they

heard.

For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest : (The gold of heaven, who bear the God impress'd:)

But when the precious coin is kept unclean,'
The sovereign's image is no longer seen,
If they be foul on whom the people trust,
Well may the baser brass contract a rust.
The prelate, for his holy life he priz'd;
The worldly poinp of prelacy despis'd,
His Saviour came not with a gaudy show;
Nor was his kingdom of the world below.
Patience in want, and poverty of mind,

The holy father holds a double reign, The prince may keep his pomp, the fisher must be plain.

Such was the saint; who shone with every

grace,

Reflecting, Moses like, his Maker's face.
God saw his image lively was express'd;
And his own work, as in creation, bless'd.

The tempter saw him too with envious eye
And, as on Job, demanded leave to try.
He took the time when Richard was despos'd,
And high and low with happy Harry clos'd.
This prince, though great in arms, the priest
withstood:

Near though he was, yet not the next of blood. Had Richard, unconstrain'd, resign'd the throne,

A king can give no more than is his own:
The title stood entail'd, had Richard had a son.

Conquest, an odious name, was laid aside, Where all subinitted, none the battle tried, The senseless plea of right oy providence Was, by a flattering priest, invented since; And lasts no longer than the present sway; But justifies the next who comes in play.

The people's right remains; let those who

dare

Dispute their power, when they the judges are. He join'd not in their choice, because he knew Worse might, and often did, from change

ensue.

Much to himself he thought; but little spoke And, undepriv'd, his benefice forsook.

Now through the land, his cure of souls he stretch'd:

And like a primitive apostle preach'd.
Still cheerful; ever constant to his call;
By many follow'd; lov'd by most; admir'd by
all.

With what he begg'd his brethren he reliev'd.
And gave the charities himself receiv'd.
Gave, while he taught; and edified the more,

sign'd,

And living taught, and dying left behind.
The crown he wore was of the pointed thorn:
In purple he was crucified, not born.
They who contend for place and high degree,
Are not his sons, but those of Zebedee.

Not but he knew the signs of earthly power Might well become Saint Peter's successor;

poor.

He went not with the crowd to see a shrine; But fed us, by the way, with food divine,

In deference to his virtues, I forbear To show you what the rest in orders were: This brilliant is so spotless, and so bright, He needs no foil, but shines by his own proper

light.

TRANSLATIONS FROM ВОССАСЕ.

SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO.

WHILE Norman Tancred in Salerno reign'd,
The title of a gracious prince he gain'd;
Till turn'd a tyrant in his latter days,
He lost the lustre of his former praise ;
And, from the bright meridian where he stood
Descending, dipp'd his hands in lovers' blood.
This prince, of Fortune's favour long pos
sess'd,

Yet was with one fair daughter only bless'd;
And bless'd he might have been with her alone:
But oh! how much inore happy had he none!
She was his care, his hope, and his delight,
Most in his thought, and ever in his sight:
Next, hay beyond his life, he held her dear;
She liv'd by him, and now he liv'd in her.
For this when ripe for marriage, he delay'd
Her nuptial bands, and kept her long a maid,
As envying any else should share a part
Of what was his, and claiming all her heart.
At length, as public decency requir'd,
And all his vassals eagerly desir'd,
With mind averse, he rather underwent
His people's will than gave his own consent.
So was she torn, as from a lover's side,
And made almost in his despite a bride.

Short were her marriage joys; for, in the prime

Of youth, her lord expir'd before his time;
And to her father's court in little space
Restor'd anew, she held a higher place;
More lov'd, and more exalted into grace.
This princess, fresh and young, and fair and
wise,

The worshipp'd idol of her father's eyes,
Did all her sex in every grace exceed,
And had more wit beside than women need.
Youth, health, and ease, and most an amor-
ous mind,

To second nuptials had her thoughts inclin'd:
And former joys had left a secret sting behind.
But, prodigal in every other grant,
Her sire left unsupplied her only want;
And she, betwixt her modesty and pride,
Her wishes, which she could not help, would
hide.

Resolv'd at last to lose no longer time,
And yet to please herself without a crime,

A seeming widow, and a secret bride.
Among the train of courtiers, one she found
With all the gifts of bounteous nature crown'd,
Of gentle blood; but one whose niggard fate
Had set him far below her high estate;
Guiscard his name was call'd, of blooming age,
Now squire to Tancred, and before his page:
To him, the choice of all the shining crowd,
Her heart the noble Sigismonda vow'd.

Yet hitherto she kept her love conceal'd,
And with those graces every day beheld
The graceful youth; and every day increas'd
The raging fires that burn'd within her breast;
Some secret charm did all his acts attend,
And what his fortune wanted, hers could mend;
Till, as the fire will force its outward way,
Or in the prison pent, consume the prey;
So long her earnest eyes on his were set,
At length their twisted rays together met;
And he surpris'd with humble joy, survey'd
One sweet regard, shot by the royal maid:
Not well assur'd, while doubtful hopes he nurs'd,
A second glance came gliding like the first;
And he, who saw the sharpness of the dart,
Without defence receiv'd it in his heart.
In public, though their passion wanted speech,
Yot mutual looks interpreted for each;
Time, ways, and means of meeting were denied;
But all those wants ingenious love supplied.
The inventive god, who never fails his part,
Inspires the wit, when once he warms the
heart.

When Guiscard next was in the circle seen,
Where Sigismonda held the place of queen,
A hollow cane within her hand she brought,
But in the concave had enclos'd a note;
With this she seem'd to play, and, as in sport,
Toss'd to her love, in presence of the court;
Take it, she said; and when your needs re
quire

This little brand will serve to light your fire.
He took it with a bow, and soon divin'd
The seeming toy was not for nought design'd
But when retir'd, so long with curious eyes
He view'd his present, that he found the prize.
Much was in little writ; and all convey'd
With cautious care, for fear to be betray'd
By some false confidant, or favourite maid.
The time, the place, the manner how to meet,
Were all in punctual order plainly writ:
But since a trust must be, she thought it best
To put it out of laymen's power at least ;
And for their solemn vows prepar'd a priest.

Guiscard (her secret purpose understood)
With joy prepar'd to meet the coming good;