Page:A General Dictionary, Historical and Critical, Volume 6.djvu/658

632 tincture of letters in France under the tuition of Sir William Ellis, a Gentleman bred up under Dr. Buſby, and who has ſince been eminent in many public ſtations. At eleven years of age he was ſent to Trinity College in Cambridge, where he remained five years; but at the age of thirteen was admitted to the degree of Maſter of Arts, having before he was twelve years old ſpoken a copy of Engliſh verſes of his own compoſition to the Ducheſs of York, at his College, when her Royal Highneſs paid a viſit to the Univerſity of Cambridge. October the 6th 1688 he wrote a letter from Mar near Doncaſter to his father upon the expected approach of the Prince of Orange’s Fleet. It was written before he was twenty-two years old, and was as follows: “Sir, “Your having no proſpect of obtaining a commiſſion for me, can no way alter or cool my deſire at this important juncture to venture my life in ſome manner or other for my King and my country. I cannot bear living under the reproach of lying obſcure and idle in a country-retirement, when every man, who has the leaſt ſenſe of honour, ſhould be preparing for the field. You may remember, Sir, with what reluctance I ſubmitted to your commands upon Monmouth’s Rebellion, when no importunity could prevail with you to permit me to leave the Academy. I was too young to be hazarded; but give me leave to ſay, it is glorious at any age to die for one’s country, and the ſooner, the nobler ſacrifice. I am now older by three years. My uncle Bathe was not ſo old, when he was left among the ſlain at the battle of Newbury; nor you yourſelf, Sir, when you made your eſcape from your tutors to join your brother at the defence of Scilly. The ſame cauſe is now come round about again. The King has been miſled; let thoſe who have miſled him, be anſwerable for it. No body can deny but he is ſacred in his own perſon, and it is every honeſt man’s duty to defend it. You are pleaſed to ſay, it is yet doubtful, if the Hollanders are raſh enough to make ſuch an attempt. But be that as it will, I beg leave to inſiſt upon it that I may be preſented to his Majeſty as one, whoſe utmoſt ambition it is to devote his life to his ſervice, and my country’s, after the example of all my anceſtors. The Gentry aſſembled at York to agree upon the choice of Repreſentatives for the country, have prepared an Addreſs, to aſſure his Majeſty they are ready to ſacrifice their lives and fortunes for him upon this and all other occaſions; but at the ſame time they humbly beſeech him to give them ſuch magiſtrates as may be agreeable to the laws of the land; for at preſent there is no authority, to which they can legally ſubmit. They have been beating for Volunteers at York, and the towns adjacent, to ſupply the regiments at Hull; but no body will liſt. By what I can hear, every body wiſhes well to the King; but they would be glad his Miniſters were hanged. The winds continue ſo contrary, that no landing can be ſo ſoon as was apprehended; therefore I may hope, with your leave and aſſiſtance, to be in readineſs before any action can begin. I beſeech you, Sir, moſt humbly and moſt earneſtly, to add this one act of indulgence more to ſo many other teſtimonies, which I have conſtantly received of your goodneſs, and be pleaſed to believe me always, with the utmoſt duty and ſubmiſſion, “Sir, “Your moſt dutiful, and moſt Obedient Servant, “Geo. Granville.” In 1690 he wrote a copy of verſes to Mrs. Elizabeth Higgons in anſwer to one ſent him by that Lady in his retirement. That Lady’s verſes were as follow.

Why Granville, is thy life to ſhades confin'd,
 * Thou whom the Gods deſign'd

In public to do credit to mankind? Why ſleeps the noble ardour of thy blood, Which from thy anceſtors, ſo many ages paſt, From Rollo down to Bevil flowed,
 * And them appeared again at laſt,

In thee, when thy victorious lance, Bore the diſputed prize from all the youth of France?

In the firſt trials, which are made for fame,
 * Thoſe to whom fate ſucceſs denies,

If taking counſel from their ſhame,
 * They modeftly retreat, are wiſe.
 * But why ſhould you, who ſtill ſucceed,
 * Whither with graceful art you lead

The fiery barb, or with as graceful motion tread
 * In ſhining ball, where all agree
 * To give the higheſt praiſe to thee?

Such harmony in every motion’s found, As art could ne’er expreſs by any ſound.

Why, why ſhould you from Court, and Camps retire?
 * If Myra is unkind, if it can be,
 * That any nymph can be unkind to thee;
 * If penſive made by love, you thus retire,
 * Awake your muſe, and ſtring your lyre;

Your tender ſong and your melodious ſtrain
 * Can never be addreſt in vain;

She need muſt love, and we ſhall have you back again. His Lordſhip’s anſwer begins thus: Ceaſe, tempting Siren, ceaſe thy flatt’ring ſtrain, Sweet is thy charming ſong, but ſung in vain: When the winds blow, and loud the tempeſts roar, What fool would truſt the waves, and quit the ſhore? Early and vain into the world I came, Big with falſe hopes and eager after fame: Till looking round me, e’er the race began, Madmen and giddy fools were all that ran. Reclaim’d betimes I from the liſts retire, And thank the Gods, who my retreat inſpire. In happier times our anceſtors were bred, When virtue was the only path to tread. Give me, ye Gods, but the ſame road to fame; Whate’er my fathers dar’d, I dare the ſame. Chang’d is the ſcene, ſome baneful planet rules An impious world, contriv’d for knaves and fools.” He concludes with the following lines. Happy the man, of mortals happieſt he, Whoſe quiet mind from vain deſires is free; Whom neither hopes deceive, nor fears torment, But lives at peace, within himſelf content, In thought or act accountable to none, But to himſelf, and to the Gods alone. O ſweetneſs of content! Seraphic joy! Which nothing wants, and nothing can deſtroy.
 * Where dwells this peace, this freedom of the mind?

Where, but in ſhades remote from human kind; In flow’ry vales, where nymphs and ſhepherds meet, But never comes within the palace-gate. Farewell then cities, courts, and camps, farewell, Welcome, ye groves, here let me ever dwell, From cares, from buſineſs, and mankind remove, All but the Muſes and inſpiring love: How ſweet the morn! how gentle in the night! How calm the ev’ning! And the day how bright! From hence, as from a hill, I view below The crouded world, a mighty wood in ſhew, Where ſeveral wanderers travel day and night, By different paths, and none are in the right.” In 1696 his Comedy called The She-Gallants was acted at
 * Notes