1728 ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION

Ambrose Philips

An Irish Clergyman, "A Letter to Mr. Ambrose Philips, on his Landing in Ireland, and being abused for his Poems, on Lord Carteret's Family" Gulliveriana: or, a Fourth Volume of Miscellanies (1728) 101-03.



From Noise retir'd, and busy Life;
Estrang'd from Care, and freed from Strife,
Forgetful of the, once-lov'd, Town;
From Court to Change, my Name, unknown;
Careless, which Miss or Madam boasts
Herself, amongst the First-rate Toasts;
Careless, who Chief, thro' powerful Tongue,
At Bar, directs The Right and Wrong;
Or who, from Pulpit, painting Evil,
In blackest Colours shades the Devil;
Who smoaks at Jo's, the sagest Cit;
Whom Button dubbs the Tip-top Wit;
To thee, my lov'd, and much-fam'd Friend,
Obscure, these silent Lines I send.
I send, to greet the Man, ere while,
Own'd, First in Wit, thro' Britain's Isle;
To greet, That Phoebus gives to boast,
He's not so averse, to th' Irish Coast:
Since, when he sets and quits our Skies,
He bids his Favourite Philip's Rise.
But, hark! my Friend, whene'er you Land,
And print your Foot on Irish Sand;
Unless of Temper you have store,
You'll meet th' inhospitable Shore;
Where Swarms of Witlings buz, and prey
On every thing, brought new from Sea;
Where, Eastern Winds, with foreign News,
Some Home-spun Nonsense, still, produce.

Regret not, that Thy Virgin Muse,
To sing of Virgin Charms, did chuse;
Regret not, thy well-worded Praise;
The sweetest Subject, softest Lays:
Tho' puny Rhimers have thought fit
To shew, from thence, their want of Wit;
Tho' want of Manners they have shewn,
With Ribaldry, to teize the Town.

Thus, in A Country-Village, bawl,
Crowds of that Animal, we call
A Cabbin-Cur; whene'er they spy
A true Molossian-bred, pass by.
They Run; they Bark; they Rage; they Foam;
Scarce looking back, He trudges Home.