The northern-star: A poem. Written by Mr. Hill.

THE Northern Star. A POEM.

BORN in an Age, when Virtue's Vigour fails, Where Praise is Dumb, or Speaks, as Change prevails; Where strugling Courage stoops to Want's Controll, And Fortune's ev'ry Tide o'erwhelms the Soul; Where hard-press'd Poverty the Contest flies, And with low Flatt'ry, shameful Succour buys; Where ill-judg'd Worth, by Pow'r, and Wealth, is weigh'd, And servile Poets make their Art a Trade. Rise, Genr'ous Muse! And let the Wand'rers know, 'Tis base to Praise, where they no Praises owe: That Justice scorns an undue Fame to sell; And Nothing claims Renown, but Doing-well; That He dishonours Verse, who bows his Theme, To Great Mens Fortune, or to Rich Mens Phlegm; That, thro' all Forms, the Muse shou'd Merit trace, A Blessing, unconfin'd to Rank, or Place;

That Narrow Minds conceive not Virtue right, And Worlds, not Realms, shou'd be the Poet's Flight.

Extend thy Truth-plum'd Wings, Unbyass'd Muse! Discern with Caution, but with Boldness chuse: If, in some dusky Corner, thou shalt find A ragged Fortune hide a noble Mind, Disperse the Cloud, and be the Labour thine, To teach such shame-fac'd Virtue how to shine.

Or, where thou seest some wealthy Churl with-hold Th' enliv'ning Use of His imprison'd Gold, If meanly Proud, the Wretch disdains to weigh The Wise Man's Wants against the treasur'd Clay; With pointed Satyr pierce his stubborn Soul, Till Sense of Shame does Pride of Heart controll.

O'er Statesmens Actions keep a watchful Eye, The Stains, they make, assume the blackest Dye! If, rais'd by Chance, some Wretch, not form'd for Sway, Exerts the Cover'd Beast, and hunts for Prey: If, all untaught in Pow'r, He drives with Rage, And, blust'ring, shakes His temporary Stage, Whisper unwelcom Notice in His Ear, That where Abuse spreads wide, Revenge is near. But stay! To nobler Aims address thy View, And mark the mighty Deeds, which Monarchs do:

Their Good Example sways unfix'd Mankind, And dim-ey'd Princes make whole Nations Blind

When God-like Caesar rul'd Ungrateful Rome, And Budding Empire shot a fragrant Bloom, His Virtues made those Slaves more blest than He, Who Murder'd Him, to be, unsafely, Free. When Bloody Nero fill'd That Caesar's Throne, Corrupted Justice durst no Virtue own: Degen'rate Rome became the Villain's Post, And He was safest, there, whose Guilt was most.

Undreading, therefore, when Occasion calls, Enter Proud Palaces, Imperious Walls; There, Good, or Ill, detect the reigning Fact, For Truth is Truth, however Princes act.

Sublimely fir'd, I snatch the Glorious Aim, 'Tis Great indeed, to give the Royal Fame! But, where, O! Spotless Light of Reason's Eye! Where, among Princes, shall I Virtue spy? Shall my own Sov'reign's Praise enrich my Lines? No:—With known Force, Domestick Glory shines: Vain were the Thought, and needless the Design, To say, to Angels, Heav'n is all Divine.

Northward, unbridl'd Muse! Direct thy Flight, Where a New Sun adorns the Land of ⁽¹⁾ Night:

Where Arts, and Arms, a Rising Empire sound, Doom'd to refine the World, and Girt it round. Thou, Mighty CZAR! in that ⁽²⁾ Contracted Name, Shalt out-weigh Caesar, in thy Pow'r and Fame! Led by thy Forming Hand, Victorious still, And almost New-created, by Thy Skill, Intrepid Legions wait thy Doomful Nod, As Hosts, from Moses, watch'd the Will of God.

Thou, God like Object of my Muse's Praise, Thou, Best Invok'd! Inspire my Rising Lays! Kindle my Glowing Soul with Fire like Thine, And lend me Bluze, to make Thy Wonders shine. Tho' right to mark How tow'ring Eagles fly, Requires the Sharpness of an Eagle's Eye, Tho' High-rais'd View does best a Prospect show, Which He can Ill describe who stands too low, Yet, if, aspiring to the Theme, I find Thy Glory's Lustre strike my op'ning Mind, O! Prince, the Grateful Arrogance forgive! No Genuine Muse, so charm'd, can silent live!

Perish that narrow Pride, from Custom grown, That makes Men blind to Merits not their own: Briton, and Russian, differ but in Name, In Nature's Sense, All Nations are the same: One Universe claims One Creator's Care, And Man is Reason's Subject Every-where.

While untrac'd Nile, with swelling Torrent strays, And Oozy Wealth, in Annual Floods, conveys, Memphia's rich Plains confess'd Improvement know, And to the spreading Stream, Huge Harvests owe: Yet does not Egypt, singly, praise the Nile, Which, greatly partial, does on Egypt smile: Egypt, and All the World, the River claim; Egypt, in Influence, and the World, in Fame: So Russia, nearest, feals the Inbred Heat: But the warm'd World the distant Brightness greet.

Ages, obscurely pass'd, unmark'd by Fame, Had almost robb'd this Empire of its Name: Unmeasur'd States lay hid, in noiseless Reign, And Russia took up half our World in vain: Weakly inspir'd, the Mass did slowly roll, Like some huge Giant, with a Pigmy's Soul: Till Ripening Time an Equal Genius sent, Divinely siz'd to suit the vast Event: He breath'd Prolific Vigour o'er the Land, And moulded Order, with his skilful Hand; The swelling Energy of Pow'r spread wide, And bore down proud Obstruction like a Tide: In sudden State, a dreadful Empire rose Which, Late, no Hope, and, Now, no Danger knows.

In Marble Quarries, thus, to swell their Gain, Men blow up hollow Rocks, with nitrous Grain; Too weak, at first, the Blast oft fails its End, And frustrate Clouds, with forceless Flash, ascend: But when, well suited to the Cavern's Size, A stronger Heap th' experienc'd Artist tries, No more, in vain, th' expandid Thunder breaks, But, bursting All, impetuous Passage makes: The groaning Mountain Nods, with rugged State, And yields, reluctant, to its forceful Fate: The Cave, unroof'd, with sudden Splendor, bright, Glitters, with mingled Rocks, and New-born Light.

Did not, O Prince! Thy Love of Art's soft Charms Ungrind the keener Influence of thy Arms; Well might the Jealous World malign Thy Sway, And, anxious, wink, against Thy Stream of Day! But Thy Great Soul has taught Thee, that the Brave Wish not to conquer, but with View to save: That 'tis a Monarch's Task to steer his Reign, Betwixt the wild Extremes of Mean, and Vain: To curb Presumption's Childhood with Restraint, And punish Treason, while 'tis call'd Complaint: The noblest Way, to make His Subjects Free, They safe in Property, in Empire, He.

Knowledge, with Joy, should consecrate to Fame The lucid Clearness of Her Champion's Flame: His Double-grasping Hand, at once, displays The Martial Laurel, and the Peaceful Bays: Beneath His Shade, where no bold Tempests blow, Safely, they twine together, as they grow: Not so, of old, when, fierce, in horrid Arms, The needy North pour'd forth Her Gothick Swarms: Roughly they warr'd, on Worth they could not taste, And, blindly, laid the Tracks of Learning waste: This Heav'n remembred, and, with Kind Command, Call'd for Attonement from the barb'rous Land, The Conscious Prince, Disdainful of the Crime, Guiltless, springs forward, to Uncurse His Clime, And nobly vows, to teach the Nations more, Than the World's Empire, Ruin'd, Lost before.

Illustrious Nature! Fitly fram'd for Pow'r! So Gods, for Incense, did their Blessings show'r! So Russia's Chief, Himself a God, in This, Rewards Subjection, with unmeasur'd Bliss! How vast the Engine! And the Force how Great! That can, so swiftly move such Pond'rous Weight! Enormous Man! who, while His boundless Sway O'erspreads a Crowd of Nations ev'ry Way, Measures not Greatness by His Country's Length, Nor will to kneeling Millions owe His Strength:

But, Heav'n-like Self-dependent, Vigour shows, And gives, not takes, what Pow'r from Number flows.

Divinely stor'd with Views, and rich in Schemes For Loading Fame with everlasting Themes; With Glories He Enamels o'er a Land, Which almost ow'd Distinction ⁽³⁾ to His Hand.

From frozen Climes, where Nature, stiff with Cold, Nourish'd no Hope, and, without Joy, grew Old, Warm'd by the Monarch's Worth, we rising saw, A Spring of Virtue, and a Bloom of Law.

Doubly supreme, This Prince, with wide Controll, Directs the Body, and impow'rs the Soul: While Common Kings their Views supinely scan, And measure what they Will, by what they Can, Thou do'st, at once, with overpow'ring Sway, Command, and make Men Able to Obey.

Transporting Thought! Let me indulge thee long: Thou shew'st what Cause makes Crowns, and Kingdoms, strong! No more, by Civil Broils, let Nations bleed For fancy'd Benefits, they do not need: Those Subjects the most Glorious Freedom share, Whom We call Slaves, in such a Sovereign's Care. Slaves are low Wretches, who, deceiv'd by Names, Promote, unknowingly, their Spoiler's Aims:

Who dream, Rebellion makes a Nation free, And hug new Chains, mistook for Liberty; Till, waking into Thought, they miss their Gain, And kick against some Fellow-Traytor's Reign.

If just Athenians, by their Theseus led, Theseus, who gave their scatter'd Limbs a ⁽⁴⁾ Head; In lasting Praise, embalm'd His cherish'd Fame, When Nought of His was left 'em, but His Name. If wise Licurgus is immortal grown, He, whom Laconia Proudly call'd Her own; Whose worship'd Ghost kept Living Pow'r in Awe, And gave a long Descent of Hero's Law: If Romulus lives, Glorious, to this Day, For pointing out to Rome her future Way: For calling Courage in, from Private Harms, To mightier Mischief, in united Arms, What Praise, Prodigious Prince! Shall dare to tread, In awful Circles, near thy sacred Head! To whom, not one small Portion, singly, kneels, In Thanks for sep'rate Benefits it feels; But Nations, ⁽⁵⁾ Numberless, as Lybian Sands, Adore the Bounties of thy Reaching Hands; Thy Hands, to whom, Delighted with thy Praise, God, gave not Lands to Govern, but to Raise.

New-blown Ambition fires each Northern Soul, And thaws the Icy Influence of the Pole:

The shaggy ⁽⁶⁾ Samoid, shaking off his Snow, Warms His cold Breast, with New Desire to Know: The rugged Tartars, from whose swarthy Bands, A Gloom of Horror us'd to shade Thy Lands; Charm'd with Thy Virtues, bow before Thy Throne, Assume new Natures, and fix'd Dwellings own. New Beams of Learning, active as the Wind, Now first break out, and light up Half Mankind: Dark Superstition, like a Mist, dispell'd, Quits a Dominion, thro' Long Ages held; And Russian Arms a glitt'ring Terror cast, O'er Lands, where scarce the Russian ⁽⁷⁾ Name has past.

Shame on the Bards of our degen'rate Days, Who prostitute to Gain their sullied Lays! Who think it needless for a Muse to roam; And, poorly, place their whole Regard at Home. The World's my Country; Born, no matter where, Man is a Denizen of Earth and Air! The Just, who, in full Light, All Merit show, Love, ev'n, the Hostile Virtues of a Foe.

Weak, with Astonishment, my Verse pursues, And flags beneath, this tow'ring Prince's Views: Where are the lost Effects of Statesmens Wiles? Whose ill-schem'd Policy the World beguiles! How have they vainly beat one devious Road! And sigh'd, at Growing France, with false Forebode!

While, Unobserv'd, th' exulting Northern Bear, Grin'd, over Universal Empire there!

Thence sudden Fleets have shadow'd distant ⁽⁸⁾ Seas, With Pow'r, self-raised, and Scorning slow Degrees: At Pleasure they descend on Ev'ry Shore, And starting Nations hear new Thunder roar. The Swede, alarm'd, does Fortune's Change upbraid, And sees th' assaulted Enemy invade: Th' assisted Dane learns Jealousy from Fear, And hates his Helper's Strength, display'd too near: The furrow'd Baltick a Third Lord obeys, And to strange Keels, Unwilling Homage pays.

The Virgin ⁽⁹⁾ Caspian This bold Lover woo's, Nor vainly for Her envy'd Favour sues: Already won, She has Her Love confest, And giv'n Him Leave to wander o'er her Breast: Persia's heap'd Wealth will Her huge Portion be: And Eastern Kings shall give Her Lord the Knee.

A Rival Pow'r, in Naval Struggle ⁽¹⁰⁾ try'd, And stretch'd along the stormy Euxine's Side: Has taught the Porte's Imperial Walls to shake, And shall, the Sultan's Iron Scepter break: Grecia's lost Fame shall be restor'd by Thee, O Monarch! Doom'd to set an Empire free!

Yok'd ⁽¹¹⁾ Hellespont, whose Stream, submissive glides Indignant, and a conquer'd World divides: Shall see, while, thence, Thy bursting Thunder roars, Europe, and Asia, trembling to Her Shores. Thence may the floating Tow'rs, which boast thy Sway, New-greet their Russia, by an ⁽¹²⁾ untry'd Way.

While, thus, thy awful Pow'r more awful grows, They swell Thy Glory, who Thy Aims oppose: The self-priz'd Lords of China's boasted Land, Feel their Pride ⁽¹³⁾ faint, beneath thy Pow'rful Hand: The Trackless Wilds, which both vast States divide, Are, yearly, ev'n when arm'd with Winter, try'd: O'er Realms of Snow thy fearless Sleds can fly, And bring, at Ease, the dreadful Distance nigh: In vain, oppos'd, their long-fam'd Wall they see, It keeps them In, but cannot keep Out Thee!

Zemla's High Cliffs, Eternal Hills of Frost! Where proud Discov'ry has so oft been ⁽¹⁴⁾ lost, Thro' all the Ages of the World, till now, Have check'd the Keels, that wou'd those Oceans Plough; Like Nature's Barrier's, they all Search withstood, And bound Ambition up in freezing Blood; Reserv'd by Fate, and for thy Reign design'd, Thy piercing Eye shall the wish'd Passage find; Or to the Western World, the Eastern join, And see the Profit, and the Glory Thine.

Stop, Headstrong Muse! And e'er we Higher go, Look down, with Caution, on the Depth below; Prospects, so vast, the Rash Approacher fright, And, dazling, wound the uncollected Sight: Congratulate, a while, the promis'd Gain, And, with some Joy, relax Thy Wonder's Strain!

Shall then, at last, beneath propitious Skies, The Cross, triumphant, o'er the Crescent, rise! Shall we behold Earth's long-sustain'd Disgrace Reveng'd, in Arms, on Osman's haughty Race! Shall modern Greece shake off a Captive's Shame, And look, unblushing, at Her Antient Fame! Shall Orphans cease, in vain, lost Bliss to know, And curse the thriving Authors of their Woe! Shall Widows, old in Chains, their Offspring save, And weep, lamented, o'er their Husband's Grave! 'Twill be! Prophetic ⁽¹⁵⁾ Greece rehopes Her-Own: And Hails Her Caesar, on the Russian Throne! Athens again shall teach; Corinth aspire; And Theban Breasts glow, with rekindling Fire: Once more Bizantium, destin'd long to shine, Shall rear the ruin'd Name of Constantine.

Transcendent Prince! How happy must thou be! What canst thou look upon, unbless'd by Thee!

What inward Peace must Thy brave Bosom know, Whence Conscious Virtue does, so strongly, flow! The Toil of Ages past in Ruins lies, How well-tim'd, therefore, does Thy Greatness rise! To shew how swiftly destin'd Glory climbs, And build Examples, for succeeding Times!

Such are the Kings, who make God's Image shine, And, justly, dare assert their Right Divine! No Earth-born Love of Rapine whets their Will, Or tempts their Pow'r, Unhostile Blood to spill; But, mindful with what Hope Wise Men obey, They show'r down Comforts from their gentle Sway; To raise the Humble, They extend their Hand, And chase Oppression from their Rescu'd Land: With well-weigh'd Justice, They both sheath, and draw, The Sword of Battle, and the Sword of Law: Skill'd in the Means, They never miss the End; But govern, Cool, what They, with Warmth, defend.

How blest were Man, wou'd Heav'n, hereafter, please, That all Earth's Princes shou'd be form'd like These! Wish it, O Muse, howe'er the Wish be Vain; It gives some Joy to hope th' unlikely'st Gain: Let me, at least, the fancy'd Change create! And hug the Prospect of a Bliss, too Great: Say, Muse! What Happiness from Thence might flow? And what Improvement wou'd blind Fortune know?

Were such the Happy State of Nations made, No silent Modesty wou'd Merit shade: The Rays of Honour, scatter'd wide about, Wou'd reach to Virtue, or enquire Her out: Distressful Innocence wou'd Shelter sind, And Sense of Mis'ry make the Mighty kind: A faithful Minister Each Post wou'd fill, Not rais'd by Faction, but preferr'd for Skill. The Judges Bench, by Justice, crown'd with Awe, Wou'd break that Bulk of Form, which blunts the Law: Wou'd, from Oppression, cleanse the Road to Right, And clear the Films of Brib'ry from Men's Sight. Truth, always own'd, wou'd need no Help from Pow'r, Nor Rich Mens Wills the Poor Man's Wants devour: Distinguish'd Distribution wou'd arise, And, to Deserve, wou'd be to Win, the Prize.

Thou, Russian Star! That makes the Pole outshine The Torrid Brightness of the Burning Line! Drawn by Thy beamy Force, I still wou'd gaze; But my Eyes ake, beneath th' oppressive Blaze! Descend, Rash Muse! From the bold Theme retire; Thy Fall were dang'rous, if thy Flight were higher!

Forbear, Great Prince! nor, with such Swiftness, bless; Shook by our Fears, we wish Thy Merit less:

Say, what new Heights were left, for Thee to try, If, as thy Fame, thy Body cou'd not die? And Heav'n will scarce thy Now-mourn'd Absence bear, When Earth yields no New Labour, worth Thy Care!

But, while, amaz'd, Thy Miracles we trace, Teach us, where, first, we shou'd our Wonder place: Hard the Decision! Which Most Honour won, Thy Actions, or the Speed, with which they're done! When Rome, that Glitt'ring, that Immortal, Name, Aspir'd to Rule, and panted after Fame, Age copying Age, strove, with progressive Will, To push the same Design, with Equal Skill: And, when Eight ⁽¹⁶⁾ hundred Lab'ring Years were past, The late propitious Fortune smil'd at last. Not such slow Rise, O Prince! Thy Russia fears: Thou see'st not Glory thro' such Depth of Years: At once resolv'd, at once the Columns rise, Which lift thy dreadful Fabrick to the Skies: Form, and Degrees, let Earthy Spirits need, Thy Soul, Excentric, moves, with inbred Speed; Makes Nature shake; and raises, in a Day, What, with less Ease, in Ages, shall decay!

So, when young Time, in Chains, Existence kept, And huddl'd Nature in dark Chaos slept,

Th' Eternal Word, to set Distinction free, But spoke th' Almighty Fiat—Let there Be. Millions of Ways the starting Atoms flew; Like clung to Like, and sudden Order grew: Sruggling in Clouds, a-while, Confusion lay; Then dy'd, at once, and lost it self in Day.