Elizabeth Hitchener Poems >>
Enigma XXX.

LET a Parisian prelate lead the van
Of worthies now advancing on the stage;
Surely 'twas his own mind the pious man
Pourtray'd, when Mentor's wisdom grac'd his page.

Next let the Salaminian poet stand,
And how his genius serv'd, let him rehearse,
To save from punishment a gallant band,
Who had enrich'd their mem'ry with his verse.

Let sculpture also bring a favoured son,
And hold him up to admiration due,
The wreath of excellence he nobly won,
When Howard 's statue struck the astonished view.

While painting (sister art) makes known the fame
Of one in Britain born, in Britain bred,
Who, great when living, now a place may claim
Among the number of illustrious dead.

But see ! Hibernia brings a mitred chief,
One whose whole life true piety refined:
In sixteen fifty-six, his course (not brief)
He finish'd, and life's troubles left behind.

A Scottish bishop too must be revealed,
Dwelling in sixteen seventy-two,
For seven long months in a small inn concealed,
He 'scaped the sword which superstition drew.

A bard of merit also notice claims,
Who wrote in numbers "musical and terse,"
Translating, (to immortalize his name),
Lucan 's "Pharsalia" into English verse.

Another poet likewise introduce,
Well known as bishop Atterbury 's friend;
Whom men of treas'nous practices accuse,
And into rigorous confinement send.

These, side by side arranged, will clearly mark
A month which we consider cold and dreary:
When the nights still continue long and dark,
And we begin to grow of winter weary.