The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland/Volume 4/Dr. Nicholas Brady
Dr. Nicholas Brady.
This revd. gentleman was ſon of Nicholas Brady, an officer in the King’s army, in the rebellion 1641, being lineally deſcended from Hugh Brady, the firſt Proteſtant biſhop of Meath.[1] He was born at Bandon in the county of Cork, on the 28th of October 1659, and educated in that county till he was 12 years of age, when he was removed to Weſtminſter ſchool, and from thence elected ſtudent of Chriſt’s Church, Oxford. After continuing there about four years, he went to Dublin, where his father reſided, at which univerſity he immediately commenced bachelor of arts. When he was of due ſtanding, his Diploma for the degree of doctor of divinity was, on account of his uncommon merit, preſented to him from that univerſity, while he was in England, and brought over by Dr. Pratt, then ſenior travelling-fellow, afterwards provoſt of that college. His firſt eccleſiaſtical preferment was to a prebend, in the Cathedral of St. Barry’s in the city of Cork, to which he was collated by biſhop Wettenhal, to whom he was domeſtic chaplain. He was a zealous promoter of the revolution, and ſuffered for it in conſequence of his zeal. In 1690, when the troubles broke out in Ireland, by his intereſt with King James’s general, Mac Carty, he thrice prevented the burning of Bandon town, after three ſeveral orders given by that Prince to deſtroy it. The ſame year, having been deputed by the people of Bandon, he went over to England to peticion the Parliament, for a redreſs of ſome grievances they had ſuffered, while King James was in Ireland. During his ſtay here, and to the time of his death, he was in the higheſt eſteem among all ranks of perſons in this kingdom, for his eminent attachment to the true intereſt of his country. Having quitted his preferments in Ireland, he ſettled in London, where he, being celebrated for his abilities in the pulpit, was elected miniſter of St. Catherine-Cree Church, and lecturer of St. Michael’s Woodſtreet. He afterwards became miniſter of Richmond in Surry, and Stratford upon Avon in Warwickſhire, and at length, rector of Clapham in the county above-mentioned; which laſt, together with Richmond, he held to the time of his death. He was alſo chaplain to the duke of Ormond’s troop of Horſe-gaards, as he was to their Majeſties King William, and Queen Anne. He died on the 20th of May 1726, in the 67th year of his age, leaving behind him the reputation of a good man; he was of a moſt obliging, ſweet, affable temper, a polite gentleman, an excellent preacher, and no inconſiderable poet.
His compoſitions in poetry are chiefly theſe,
1. A New Verſion of the Pſalms of David, performed by him, in conjunction with Mr. Tate, ſoon after he ſettled in London; now ſung in moſt churches of England, and Ireland, inſtead of that obſolete and ridiculous Verſion made by Sternhold, and Hopkins, in the reign of King Edward VI. As the 104th Pſalm is eſteemed one of the moſt ſublime in the whole book, we ſhall preſent the reader with the two firſt Parts of his Verſion of that Pſalm as a ſpecimen. There have not been leſs than forty different Verſions, and Paraphraſes of this Pſalm, by poets of very conſiderable eminence, who ſeem to have vied with one another for the ſuperiority of an theſe attempts, if we may truſt our own judgment, none have ſucceeded ſo happily as Mr. Blackclock, a young gentleman now reſident at Dumfries in Scotland. This Paraphraſe is the more extraordinary, as the author of it has been blind from his cradle, and now labours under that calamity; it carries in it ſuch elevated ſtrains of poetry, ſuch pictureſque deſcriptions, and ſuch a mellifluent flow of numbers, that we are perſuaded, the reader cannot be diſpleaſed at finding it inſerted here.
Dr. Brady alſo tranſlated the Æneid of Virgil, which were publiſhed by ſubſcription in four volumes octavo, the laſt of which came out in 1726, a little before the author’s death.
He alſo publiſhed in his life-time three Volumes of Sermons in 8vo. each conſiſting of 14, all printed in London; the firſt in 1704, the ſecond in 1706, and the third in 1713. After the Dr.’s death, his eldeſt ſon, who is now a clergyman, publiſhed three other Volumes of his father’s Sermons, each alſo conſiſting of 14, printed in London 1730, 8vo. Amongſt his ſermons there is one preached on St. Cecilia’s day, in vindication of Church-muſic, firſt printed in 1697, in 4to. PSALM CIV.
1Bleſs God, my ſoul; thou, Lord alone,
Poſſeſſeſt empire without bounds:
With honour thou art crown’d, thy throne
Eternal Majeſty ſurrounds.
With light thou doſt thy ſelf enrobe,2
And glory for a garment take;
Heav’ns curtain ſtretch’d beyond the globe,
The canopy of ſtate to make.
God builds on liquid air, and forms3
His palace-chambers in the ſkies:
The clouds his chariots are, and ſtorms
The ſwift-wing’d ſteeds with which he flies.
As bright as flame, as ſwift as wind4
His miniſters Heav’n’s palace fill;
To have their ſundry taſks aſſign’d,
All proud to ſerve their Sovereign’s will.
Earth on her center fix’d he ſet,5, 6
Her face with waters over ſpread;
Not proudeſt mountains dar’d as yet
To lift above the waves their head!
But when thy awful face appeared,7
Th’ inſulting waves diſpers’d; they fled
When once thy thunder’s voice they heard,
And by their haſte confeſs’d their dread.
Thence up by ſecret tracts they creep,8
And guſhing from the mountain’s ſide,
Thro’ vallies travel to the deep;
Appointed to receive their tide.
There haſt thou fix’d the ocean’s mounds.9
The threat’ning ſurges to repel:
That they no more o’erpaſs their bounds,
Nor to a ſecond deluge ſwell.
PART II.
Yet, thence in ſmaller parties drawn,10
The ſea recovers her loſt hills:
And ſtarting ſprings from every lawn,
Surprize the vales with plenteous rills.
The fields tame beaſts are thither led11
Weary with labour, faint with drought,
And aſſes on wild mountains bred,
Have ſenſe to find theſe currents out.
There ſhady trees from ſcorching beams,12
Yield ſhelter to the feather’d throng:
They drink, and to the bounteous ſtreams
Return the tribute of their ſong.
His rains from heav’n parch’d hills recruit,13
That ſoon tranſmit the liquid ſtore:
’Till earth is burthen’d with her fruit,
And nature’s lap can hold no more.
Graſs for our cattle to devour,84
He makes the growth of every field:
Herbs, for man’s uſe, of various pow’r,
That either food or phyſic yield.
With cluſter’d grapes he crowns the vine15
To cheer man’s heart oppreſs’d with cares:
Gives oil that makes his face to ſhine,
And corn that waſted ſtrength repairs.
PSALM CIV. imitated by THOMAS
BLACKCLOCK.
Ariſe my ſoul! on wings ſeraphic riſe!
And praiſe th’ Almighty ſov’reign of the ſkies!
In whom alone eſſential glory ſhines,
Which not the Heav’n of Heav’ns, nor boundleſs ſpace confines!
When darkneſs rul’d with univerſal ſway,
He ſpoke, and kindled up the blaze of day;
Firſt faireſt offspring of th’ omnific word!
Which like a garment cloath’d it’s ſovereign lord.
He ſtretch’d the blue expanſe, from pole to pole,
And ſpread circumfluent æther round the whole.
Of liquid air he bad the columns riſe,
Which prop the ſtarry concave of the ſkies.
Soon as he bids, impetuous whirlwinds fly,
To bear his founding chariot thro’ the ſky:
Impetuous whirlwinds the command obey,
Suſtain his flight, and ſweep th’ aerial way.
Fraught with his mandates from the realms on high,
Unnumber’d hoſts of radiant heralds fly;
From orb to orb, with progreſs unconfin’d,
As lightn’ing ſwift, reſiſtleſs as the wind.
His word in air, this pondr’ous ball ſuſtain’d.
“Be fixt, he ſaid.”—And fix’d the ball remain’d.
Heav’n, air, and ſea, tho’ all their ſtores combine,
Shake not its baſe, nor break the law Divine.
At thy almighty voice, old ocean raves.
Wakes all his force, and gathers all his waves;
Nature lies mantled in a watry robe,
And ſhoreleſs ocean rolls around the globe;
O’er higheſt hills, the higher ſurges riſe,
Mix with the clouds, and leave the vaulted ſkies.
But when in thunder, the rebuke was giv’n,
That ſhook th’ eternal firmament of heav’n.
The dread rebuke, the frighted waves obey,
They fled, confus’d, along th’ appointed way,
Impetuous ruſhing to the place decreed,
Climb the ſteep hill, and ſweep the humble mead:
And now reluctant in their bounds ſubſide;
Th’ eternal bounds reſtrain the raging tide:
Yet ſtill tumultuous with inceſſant roar,
It ſhakes the caverns, and aſſaults the ſhore.
By him, from mountains, cloth’d in livid ſnow,
Thro’ verdant vales, the mazy fountains flow.
Here the wild horſe, unconſcious of the rain,
That revels boundleſs, o’er the wide champaign,
Imbibes the ſilver ſtream, with heat oppreſt
To cool the fervour of his glowing breaſt.
Here verdant boughs adorn’d with ſummer’s pride.
Spread their broad ſhadows o’er the ſilver tide:
While, gently perching on the leafy ſpray,
Each feather’d ſongſter tunes his various lay:
And while thy praiſe, they ſymphonize around,
Creation ecchoes to the grateful ſound.
Wide o’er the heav’ns, the various bow he bends.
Its tincture brightens, and its arch extends:
At the glad ſign, aërial conduits flow,
The hills relent, the meads rejoice below:
By genial fervour, and prolific rain,
Gay vegetation cloaths the fertile plain:
Nature profuſely good, with bliſs o’er-flows,
And ſtill ſhe’s pregnant, tho’ ſhe ſtill beſtows:
Here verdant paſtures, far extended lie,
And yield the grazing herd a rich ſupply!
Luxuriant waving in the wanton air,
Here golden grain rewards the peaſant’s care!
Here vines mature, in purple cluſters glow,
And heav’n above, diffuſes heav’n below!
Erect and tall, here mountain cedars riſe,
High o’er the clouds, and emulate the ſkies!
Here the winged crowds, that ſkim the air,
With artful toil, their little dams prepare,
Here, hatch their young, and nurſe their riſing care!
Up the ſteep-hill aſcends the nimble doe,
While timid comes ſcour the plains below;
Or in the pendent rock’s elude the ſcenting foe,
He bade the ſilver majeſty of night,
Revolve her circle, and increaſe her light.
But if one moment, then thy face ſhould’ſt hide,
Thy glory clouded, or thy ſmiles denied,
Then widow’d nature veils her mournful eyes,
And vents her grief, in univerſal cries!
Then gloomy death, with ill his meagre train;
Wide o’er the nations ſpreads his iron reign!
Sea, earth, and air, the bounteous ravage mourn,
And all their hoſts to native duſt return!
Again thy glorious quick’ning influence ſhed,
The glad creation rears its drooping head:
New riſing forms, thy potent ſmiles obey,
And life re-kindles at the genial ray:
United thanks repleniſhed nature pays,
And heaven, and earth reſound their maker’s praiſe.
When time ſhall in eternity be loſt,
And hoary nature languiſh into duſt,
Forever young, thy glories ſhall remain,
Vaſt as thy being, endleſs as thy reign!
Then from the realms of everlaſting day,
See’ſt all thy works, at one immence ſurvey!
Pleased at one view, the whole to comprehend,
Part join’d to part, concurring to one end.
If thou to earth, but turn’ſt thy wrathful eyes,
Her baſis trembles, and her offspring dies.
Thou ſmites the hills, and at th’ almighty blow,
Their ſummits kindle, and their entrails glow.
While this immortal ſpark of heavenly flame,
Diſtends my breaſt, and animates my frame,
To thee my ardent praiſes ſhall be born,
On the firſt breeze, that wakes the bluſhing morn:
The lateſt liar ſhall hear the pleaſing ſound,
And nature, in full choir ſhall join around!
When full of thee, my ſoul excurſive flies,
Thro’ earth, air, ocean or thy regal ſkies,
From world, to world, new wonders ſtill I find!
And all the Godhead burſts upon my mind!
When, wing’d with whirlwinds, vice ſhall take flight,
To the wide boſom of eternal night,
To thee my ſoul ſhall endleſs praiſes pay;
Join! men and angels! join th’ exalted day!
Aſſign’d a province to each rolling ſphere,
And taught the ſun to regulate the year.
At his command wide hov’ring o’er the plain,
Primæval night reſumes her gloomy reign.
Then from their dens impatient of delay,
The ſavage monſters bend their ſpeedy way,
Howl thro’ the ſpacious waſte and chaſe frighted prey.
Here walks the ſhaggy monarch of the wood,
Taught from thy providence to aſk his food:
To thee O Father! to thy bounteous ſkies,
He rears his main, and rolls hie glaring eyes.
He roars, the deſarts tremble wide around!
And repercuſive hills repeat the ſound.
Now purple gems, the eaſtern ſkies adorn,
And joyful nature hails th’ opening morn;
The rovers conſcious of approaching day,
Fly to their ſhelters, and forget their prey.
Laborious man, with moderate ſlumber bleſt,
Springs chearful to his toil, from downy reſt;
Till grateful ev’ning with her ſilver train,
Bid labour ceaſe, and eaſe the weary ſwain!
Hail, ſovereign Goodneſs! All productive mind!
On all thy works, thyſelf inſcribed we find!
How various all! how variouſly endow’d
How great their number! and each part how good!
How perfect then muſt the great parent ſhine!
Who with one act of energy divine,
Laid the vaſt plan, and finiſh’d the deſign.
Where e’er the pleaſing ſearch my thoughts purſue,
Unbounded goodneſs opens to my view.
Nor does our world alone, its influence ſhare;
Exhauſtleſs bounty, and unwearied care,
Extend thro’ all th’ infinitude of ſpace,
And circle nature with a kind embrace.
The wavy kingdoms of the deep below,
Thy power, thy wiſdom, and thy goodneſs ſhew.
Here various beings without number ſtray,
Croud the profound, or on the ſurface play.
Leviathan here, the mightieſt of the train,
Enormous! ſails incumbent o’er the the main.
All theſe thy watchful providence ſupplies;
To thee alone, they turn their waiting eyes.
For them thou open’ſt thy exhauſtleſs ſtore,
Till the capacious wiſh can graſp no more.
- ↑ Biograph. Brit. Art. Brady.