The Discovery, an Ode

Take wing my Muse! from shore to shore Fly, and that happy place explore Where Virtue deigns to dwell; If yet she treads on British ground Where can the fugitive be found, In city, court, or cell?

Not there where wine and srantick mirth Unite the sensual sons of earth In Pleasure's thoughtless train, Nor yet where sanctity 's a show, Where souls nor joy nor pity know For human bliss or pain.

Her social heart alike disowns The race who shunning crowds and thrones In shades sequester'd doze, Whose sloth no gen'rous care can wake, Who rot like weeds on Lethe's lake In senseless vile repose.

With these she shuns the factious tribe Who spurn the yet unoffer'd bribe And at Corruption lower, Waiting till Discord Havock cries, In hopes like Catiline to rise On anarchy to pow'r!

Ye Wits! who boast from ancient times A right divine to scourge our crimes, Is it with you she rests? No; int'rest, slander, are your views, And Virtue now with ev'ry Muse Flies your unhallow'd breasts.

There was a time, I heard her say, Ere females were seduc'd by play, When Beauty was her throne; But now where dwelt the Soft Desires The Furies light forbidden fires To Love and her unknown.

From these th' indignant goddess flies, And where the spires of Science rise A while suspends her wing, But pedant Pride and Rage are there, And Faction tainting all the air And pois'ning ev'ry spring.

Long thro' the sky's wide pathless way The Muse observ'd the wand'rer stray And mark'd her last retreat; O'er Surry's barren heaths she flew, Descending like the silent dew On Esher's peaceful seat.

There she beholds the gentle Mole His pensive waters calmly roll Amidst Elysian ground; There thro' the windings of the grove She leads her family of Love, And strews her sweets around.

I hear her bid the daughters fair Oft' to yon' gloomy grot repair Her secret steps to meet; "Nor thou," she cries, "these shades forsake, "But come, lov'd Consort! come and make "The husband's bliss complete."

Yet not too much the soothing ease Of rural indolence shall please My Pelham's ardent breast: The man whom Virtue calls her own Must stand the pillar of a throne And make a nation blest.

Pelham! it is thine with temp'rate zeal To guard Britannia's publick weal, Attack'd on ev'ry part: Her fatal discords to compose, Unite her friends, disarm her foes, Demands thy head and heart.

When bold Rebellion shook the land, Ere yet from William's dauntless hand Her barb'rous army fled; When Valour droop'd and Wisdom fear'd Thy voice expiring Credit heard, And rais'd her languid head.

Now by thy strong assisting hand Fix'd on a rock I see her stand, Against whose solid feet In vain thro' ev'ry future age The loudest most tempestuous rage Of angry War shall beat.

And grieve not if the sons of strife Attempt to cloud thy spotless life And shade its brightest scenes; Wretches! by kindness unsubdu'd, Who see who share the common good, Yet cavil at the means.

Like these the metaphysick crew, Proud to be singular and new, Think all they see deceit, Are warm'd and cherish'd by the day, Feel and enjoy the heav'nly ray, Yet doubt of light and heat.