ODE TO TASTE. William Gerard Hamilton Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1122 K093079.001 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. I. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 124-133. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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ODE TO TASTE . BY THE SAME . SAY , Goddess , wilt thou never smile Indulgent on Britannia's isle ! Hither thy gentie footsteps bend , On Albion's sea-girt cliffs descend ; O come , and with thy genial ray Chase every gloomy cloud away : No more shall Ignorance preside , Or Gothic Rage in triumph ride . Let Judgment , thy unshaken friend , With polish'd Elegance attend : Simplicity , meek rural queen , With downcast looks and modest mien , In loosely-flowing neat attire , Shall charm thee with her rustic lyre . To that in her enchanting court The frolic Graces ever sport , And guarded by their watchful aid , The finer Arts shall never fade . Blest power ! whose charms alone dispense A keener rapture to each sense : If Melody enchant my breast , Or soothe my soften'd soul to rest : By thee may every strain be crown'd , May'st thou still harmonize each sound , If blooming colours seem to live , May you fresh life and vigour give ; May you restrain each poet's rage , Or animate his purer page . Do'st thou his savage wrath appease , Ev'n Terror's giant-form can please ; 'Mid shadowy shapes in dead of night , That shoot across my dazzled sight ; 'Mid spectres of enormous size , 'Mid ghosts that from their charnels rise , 'Mid shrouded friends who solemn stalk , And haunt me in my midnight walk ; While wild winds blustering round my head , Inspire me with poetic dread ; Thro' closing shades o'er valleys green , May'st thou still solemnize the scene ; And as the storms innoxious roll , Pour thy lov'd horrors o'er my soul . Yet not alone Britannia's shore Thy fatal absence shall deplore . See old Achaia's genius mourn , His bosom bare , his garments torn ; See his generous patriot breast By all his country's wrongs opprest . See him with haughty fix'd disdain Lament his dastard sons in vain ! To fairer happier climes belong The painter's tints , the poet's song . Lo ! conscious of approaching night : Where Picture wings her destin'd flight . Behold dejected Sculpture stand Prepar'd to leave our desart land . Yet , Goddess , yet thy secret fire With wondering rapture we admire . By thee 'mid rugged rocks we find Each speaking passion of the mind . With awful horror we behold Th' immense Alcides' monstrous mould ; While Venus , queen of soft desires , Each tender gentler thought inspires The Hercules of the Farnese and the Venus de Medicis . . O Alexander , not alone The warrior's skill to thee was known . Fair Science , heaven-descended maid , Confesses thy propitious aid : To thee the grateful Arts shall raise Eternal monuments of praise . Behold with thee they die away , To Roman ignorance a prey In the year of Rome 585 , the Romans , under the conduct of Paulus Aemilius , in the second Macedonian war , entirely subdued Greece , and led Persius king of Macedon in triumph . It was not till after this victory that the Romans had any taste for the fine arts . Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit , & artes Intulit agresti Latio , &c. Horace Epist. I. Lib. ii . And lo ! again in conquering Rome With all their usual vigour bloom ; Again they feel the fatal blow , And sink beneath the Vandal foe In the eighteenth year of Honorius , in the consulship of Verannes and Tertullus , Rome was besieged and taken by the Barbarians , under the conduct of Godegisil king of the Vandals . . Once more the Arts began to spread ; Once more gay Science rear'd her head : Alas ! in vain she strove t' assuage The enthusiast zealot's bigot rage Pope Gregory , who offered all the ancient statues and paintings to be destroyed , that there might be no remains of Heathenism . . Wilt thou , O Taste , again appear , Protectress of each circling year ! Wilt thou in all thy wonted prime Review this lost unhallow'd clime ; Or where far distant regions lie , 'Mid dreary desarts bloom and die ! Say , shall the stern Olympian god No more in living marble nod ! Shall never Raphael charm the heart , Shall never Nature yield to Art , Shall never Maro's beauties shine , Except in Armstrong's classic line ! And does no Leo now remain , Who yet shall chear thy drooping train ! There are , who still thy aid implore , Who still thy sovereign power adore , Thy relicts with religious fear Fond Italy shall yet revere . Sweet power , in simple pomp array'd Be all thy native charms display'd . Again reviving Sculpture breathes ; Fair Science trims her blasted wreaths ; With suppliant willing hand to thee The pencil Picture shall decree : With one consent the Muse's choir To thee shall dedicate the Lyre . Come , Goddess , feast my longing sight , Let me direct thy pleasing flight ; Whate'er voluptuous slaves could boast On fair Phaeacia's sunny coast , Whate'er the poet's fancy taught , Or imag'd to his wanton thought See Homer's description of the gardens of Alcinöus , Odyss. vii . V. 112. : For thee a happier fate remains ; You still shall view more blissful plains , Where the soft guardian of thy charms Expects thee to his longing arms : He shall with fixt attention gaze , Shall crown thee with immortal bays , With lenient hand thy cares assuage , Protect thee from Time's lawless rage , The taunt of scorn , the dark revile , The languid , faint-approving smile , The noise of Mirth , the plaintive sigh , And simpering Folly's heedless eye . Would'st thou with Innocence reside , Behold the temple's modest pride The Temple of Innocence and Hermit's Cell in the gardens at Goodwood . ; Or in the darksome cavern'd cell With solitary hermits dwell ; Would'st thou with faint desponding air To melancholy vaults repair , With aching , sicken'd , cold review , Bid every sorrow stream anew : Here may'st thou weep thy favourite Rome , Sad-sighing o'er each martyr's tomb The Catacombs at Goodwood . Those in the Via Appia near Rome are generally supposed to be caves , where the primitive christians concealed themselves from their persecutors , and interred those who were martyrs for their religion . Mr. Wright , in his Travels through Italy , vol. i. pag. 357. acquaints us , that at the mouth of some of the niches were to be seen small vials like lachrymatories tinged with red , which they esteemed an indication that the bodies of martyrs were deposited there . ; Meek Pity , Attic maid , shall join Her tender social tears with thine , O'er every urn fresh laurels strow , And fondly emulate thy woe . Or would'st thou newer Alluding to the American wood at Goodwood . America is , from the late discovery of it , called the New World . worlds survey , Where Darkness holds her barren sway , Where ne'er the Muse's chaplet blew , Where Learning's laurel never grew ; Where Nature to our wondering eyes Each salutary herb supplies : Where flowers their fragrant sweets diffuse , Where trees distil their kindly dews ; And blest with every power to heal , Soft slumbers o'er the senses steal . In such enchanting , artless scenes , 'Mid bowery mazes , spreading greens , Sooth'd by the breezy western gale , In scented grove , or rocky dale , Or wandering from the russet cot , To seek the deep embosom'd grot , Beneath the orange shade inclos'd , Or in the myrtle bower repos'd , Or where the flaunting flowers have wove With mingled sweets the high alcove , Each Indian wooes his favourite mate ; What Nature dictates they relate : No youths by love's cold arts are won ; Nor maids by easy faith undone ; With eye up-rais'd the simple swain Dreads not the tortures of disdain , But , kneeling at his fair one's feet , Breathes vows unconscious of deceit : Each pleasing sound she sighs to hear Repeated on her longing ear ; Amaz'd , nor anxious to controul The mutual wishes of her soul , Attests each unknown power above , As witness of her spotless love ; Yet rack'd by fond distrustful fears Pours out her aching heart in tears , And tells to her admiring youth Sweet tales of innocence and truth . Fancy such raptures shall suggest , Lov'd inmate of thy ravish'd breast ; Shall point where wanton zephyrs stray , And o'er th' unruffled ocean play America is bounded on the west by the Pacific Ocean , and on the east by the Atlantic . . Or snatch thee to some wave-worn shore , Where fierce Atlantic surges roar : Where Plata with resistless force Thro' deserts rolls his rapid course , Or where Maranan proudly laves Waste regions with his circling waves : Where boundless Oroonoko fills His channels from a thousand hills , And with regardless rage destroys ; While twenty mouths with hideous noise , From some immense Peruvian steep , Spout his vex'd billows to the deep . Thus while you view the tyrant flood , Wild dread shall chill thy loitering blood ; And frighted Fancy , self-amaz'd , Start at the phantom she had rais'd . Should Nature's simple beauties fail , And Art's gay structures more prevail , Here too the polish'd dome is plac'd , With each Vitruvian beauty grac'd : Or wouldst thou at the early dawn Transport thee to the dew-clad lawn ; Or from the mid-day fervor rove Beneath the silent plantane grove : Or with the fairy elves be seen In dances on the level green : Should baleful War , 'mid loud alarms , 'Mid vanquish'd foes , and conquering arms , 'Mid hosts o'erthrown , and myriads slain , On Britain fix his iron reign ; Should Jove's fair daughter , oliv'd Peace , Bid the wild battle's tumult cease ; In polish'd ease you still shall share Thy kind protector's fostering care ; His faithful love shall still appear , His friendly aid shall still be near , His constant , his unweary'd power Shall lull thee in the balmy bower ; Shall watch thee o'er the dewy glade , And guard thee from the midnight shade . Thou too shalt all his toils repay , Slow-lingering here with fond delay ; Here shalt thou choose thy favourite seat , Here fix thy last , thy blest retreat ; Each old Athenian bloom regain , And here in Attic splendor reign .