Richard Savage

Martha Fowke Sansom ("Clio"), "To Mr. Savage, on telling me his Misfortunes" Savage, Miscellaneous Poems and Translations (1726) 300-03.

Soul-piercing Sorrow, Oh! no more invade,
I do conjure thee, this Harmonious Mind;
Savage for Immortality was made,
Why are not Mothers, like the Muses, kind?
Why ask I thee, O Sorrow, Thou art blind.

Inhumane Tyrant o'er our short-liv'd Days,
Thou drink'st our Blood (unsocial Fiend!) alone,
Withering our soft Ideas, and our Bays.
Unpitying, the dying Bosoms Groan,
Oh well has Mine thy cruel Ravage known.

All the dear Friends my Fortune e'er cou'd boast,
Were from my Arms by Death or Absence torn,
A murder'd father yielding up the Ghost—
Heart-breaking Sight, by Nature scarcely born!
The bloody Scene I must for ever mourn.

Cans't Thou an equal Misery pretend?
Allow (O wretched Claim!) my greater Share:
Thou hast no Parent; blest in that, my Friend,
Or none that's worthy of thy tender Care;
Repress thy Sighs; thy Burst of Groans forbear.

The Muses are thy Parents, all the Nine
Avow thee Theirs; Thou shalt Immortal be.
Hillarius too, the God of Wit, is thine,
Father, and Friend, and Ev'ry thing to Thee:
How rich art Thou in Happiness, to Me?

Oh hear, my Stars! whatever you intend,
To raise my Fortune high, or to depress;
Is Shipwreck'd here below, with such a Friend
As sweet Hillarius; the long Voyage bless,
And charm the Storms of Life with Tenderness.

How bless'd art thou, while such a Hand sustains
Thy helpless Youth; so sit to lead thee on;
Inspiring still, and lengthening out the Reins;
Pointing the glorious Cause himself has run;
Warming thy Soul with his own native Son.

Great is the Height thy Infant Eaglet flies;
But who will wonder at its early Flight?
Hillarius has inform'd it where to rise,
And shown it all the shining Fields of Light;
Oh! I gaze after it with aking Sight.