Sedley.
Sir Charles Sedley.
The painter’s art is done, the features hit,
Of Sedley’s face. No art can show his wit.
He appeared in public about the year 1667, and is to be considered as one of the first among the men of genius who adorned that age. Charles II. used to tell him, that nature had given him a patent to be Apollo’s viceroy. However, he knew as well how to conceal his own excellencies with modesty, as the rest of the world knew how to value them. It was at the acting of his play called Bellamira, that the roof of the play-house fell down. But it was singular, that very few were hurt except himself. His merry friend, Sir Fleetwood Shepherd, told him, “there was so much fire in his play, that it blew up the poet, house, and all.” He replied, “No! The play was so heavy, it broke down the house, and buried the poet in his own rubbish.”
On the Loss of a Watch—Lord Erskine.
To a Gentleman, on his complaining of having lost his Gold Watch.
Grieve not, my friend, or peevish say
Your luck is worse than common,
For “Gold takes wings, and flies away,”
And “Time will stay for no man.”
Sensibility or Indifference—Lord Erskine.
Lines by Lord Erskine, on being asked whether he preferred great Sensibility or Indifference.
The heart can ne’er a transport know,
That never felt a pain;
That point thus settled long ago,
The present question’s vain.
Who’d wish to travel life’s dull round,
Unmov’d by pain or pleasure?
’Tis reason’s task to set the bound,
And keep them all in measure.
The Stoic who with false pretence
Each soft emotion stifles,
Thinks want of feeling shows his sense,
Yet frets and fumes at trifles.
And he, who vainly boasts the heart
Touch’d by each tale of woe,
Forbears to act the friendly part
That tender heart to show.
Th’ unfeeling heart can never know,
By cold indifference guarded,
The joy, the transport, that will flow
From love and truth rewarded.
True sensibility we find
Shares in another’s grief;
And pity yields the generous mind
From sympathy relief.
The point discussed, we find this rule,
A rule both true and sad;
Who feels too little is—a fool;
Who feels too much—runs mad.