—Demetri, teque Tigelli
Discipulorum inter jubeo plorare cathedras.
* * * * *
TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF ORMOND,[71]
WITH THE FOLLOWING POEM OF PALAMON AND ARCITE.
MADAM,
The bard who first adorn’d our native
tongue,
Tuned to his British lyre this ancient
song:
Which Homer might without a blush rehearse,
And leaves a doubtful palm in Virgil’s
verse:
He match’d their beauties, where
they most excel;
Of love sung better, and of arms as well.
Vouchsafe, illustrious Ormond!
to behold
What power the charms of beauty had of
old;
Nor wonder if such deeds of arms were
done,
Inspired by two fair eyes that sparkled
like your own. 10
If Chaucer by the best idea
wrought,
And poets can divine each other’s
thought,
The fairest nymph before his eyes he set;
And then the fairest was Plantagenet;
Who three contending princes made her
prize,
And ruled the rival nations with her eyes:
Who left immortal trophies of her fame,
And to the noblest order gave the name.
Like her, of equal kindred
to the throne,
You keep her conquests, and extend your
own: 20
As when the stars in their ethereal race,
At length have roll’d around the
liquid space,
At certain periods they resume their place;
From the same point of heaven their course
advance,
And move in measures of their former dance;
Thus, after length of ages, she returns,
Restored in you, and the same place adorns;
Or you perform her office in the sphere,
Born of her blood, and make a new Platonic
year.
O true Plantagenet! O race divine!
30
(For beauty still is fatal to the line)
Had Chaucer lived that angel-face to view,
Sure he had drawn his Emily from you;
Or had you lived to judge the doubtful
right,
Your noble Palamon had been the knight;
And conquering Theseus from his side had
sent
Your generous lord, to guide the Theban
government.
Time shall accomplish that; and I shall
see
A Palamon in him, in you an Emily.
Already have the Fates your path prepared,