The impartial. An address, without flattery. Being a poet's free thoughts on the situation of our public affairs, anno 1744

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- TO THE GREAT ORIGINAL Of the Following PICTURE.

THE IMPARTIAL: AN ADDRESS, without FLATTERY.

ARE 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.

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,

THAT 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.

Information about this book

Title statement

The impartial. An address, without flattery. Being a poet's free thoughts on the situation of our public affairs, anno 1744

Hill, Aaron, 1685-1750.

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University of Oxford Text Archive
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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4288

ID [isbn10]

1106012879

ID [isbn13]

9781106012876

ID [TCP]

K049204.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3305564567

ID [ECSS]

0681100800

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— The impartial. An address, without flattery. Being a poet's free thoughts on the situation of our public affairs, anno 1744, Hill, Aaron, 1685-1750.. 12p. ; 2⁰. London :: printed for M. Cooper,. 1744.. [Dedication signed: Ignotus, i.e. Aaron Hill.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [Foxon, H220] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT55155.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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