At Hampton while he breathes untainted air, And seems, to vulgar eyes, devoid of care; The British Muses to the grove will press, Tune their melodious harps, and claim access: But let them not too rashly touch the strings; For Fate allows no solitude to kings.
Hail to the shades, where William, great in arms, Retired from conquest to Maria's charms! Where George serene in majesty appears, And plans the wonders of succeeding years! There, as he walks, his comprehensive mind Surveys the globe, and takes in all mankind: While, Britain, for thy sake he wears the crown; To spread thy power as wide as his renown : To make thee umpire of contending states, And poise the balance in the world's debates. From the smooth terrace as he casts his eye, And sees the current seaward rolling by; What schemes of commerce rise in his designs! Pledges of wealth! and unexhausted mines! Through winds and waves, beneath inclement skies, Where stars, distinguish'd by no name, arise, Our fleets shall undiscover'd lands explore, And a new people hear our cannons roar. The rivers, long in ancient story famed, Shall flow obscure, nor with the Thames be named: Nor shall our poets copy from their praise, And Nymphs and Syrens to thy honour raise; Nor make thy banks with Tritons' shells resound, Nor bind thy brows with humble sedges round : But paint thee as thou art: a peopled stream! The boast of merchants, and the sailors' theme! Whose spreading floods unnumber'd ships sustain, And pour whole towns afloat into the main ;
While the redundant seas waft up fresh stores, The daily tribute of far distant shores.
Back to thy source I try thy silver-train,
That gently winds through many a fertile plain;
Where flocks and lowing herds in plenty feed,
And shepherds tune at ease the vocal reed:
Ere yet thy waters meet the briny tide,
And freighted vessels down thy channel ride;
Ere yet thy billows leave their banks behind,
Swell into state, and foam before the wind:
Thy sovereign's emblem! in thy course complete!
When I behold him in his loved retreat,
Where rural scenes their pleasing views disclose,
A silvan deity the monarch shows;
And if he only knew the wood to grace,
To rouse the stag, and animate the chase:
While every hour, from thence, his high commands,
By speedy winds convey'd to various lands,
Control affairs; give weighty councils birth;
And sway the mighty rulers of the earth.
Were he, our island's glory and defence,
To reign unactive, at the world's expense;
Say, generous Craggs, who then should quell the
Of lawless Faction, and reform the age? [rage
Who should our dear-bought liberties maintain?
Who fix our leagues with France, and treat with
Spain?
[Czar;
Who check the headstrong Swede; assuage the
Secure our peace, and quench the northern war?
The Turk, though he the Christian name defies,
And curses Eugene, yet from Eugene flies,
His cause to Brunswick's equity dare trust;
He knows him valiant, and concludes him just:
He knows his fame in early youth acquired,
When turban'd hosts before his sword retired.
Thus while his influence to the poles extends,
Or where the day begins, or where it ends,
Far from our coasts he drives off all alarms;
And those his power protects, his goodness charms.
Great in himself, and undebased with pride,
The sovereign lays his regal state aside,
Pleased to appear without the bright disguise
Of pomp; and on his inborn worth relies.
His subjects are his guests; and daily boast
The condescension of their royal host:
While crowds succeeding crowds on either hand,
A ravish'd multitude, admiring stand.
His manly wit and sense, with candour join'd,
His speech with every elegance refined,
His winning aspect, his becoming ease,
Peculiar graces all, conspire to please,
And render him to every heart approved;
The king respected, and the man beloved.
Nor is his force of genius less admired:
When most from crowds or public cares retired,
The learned arts, by turns, admittance find;
At once unbend and exercise his mind.
The secret springs of Nature, long conceal'd,
And to the wise by slow degrees reveal'd,
(Delightful search!) his piercing thought descries.
Oft through the concave azure of the skies
His soul delights to range, a boundless space,
Which myriads of celestial glories grace;
Worlds behind worlds, that deep in ether lie,
And suns, that twinkle to the distant eye;
Or call them stars, on which our fates depend,
And every ruling star is Brunswick's friend.
Soon as the rising Sun shoots o'er the stream, And gilds the palace with a ruddy beam, You to the healthful chase attend the king, And hear the forest with the huntsmen ring: While in the dusty town we rule the state, And from gazettes determine England's fate. Our groundless hopes and groundless fears prevail As artful brokers comment on the mail. Deafen'd with news, with politics oppress'd, I wish the wind ne'er varied from the west. Secure, on George's councils I rely,
Give up my cares, and Britain's foes defy. What though cabals are form'd, and impious leagues?
Though Rome fills Europe with her dark intrigues?
His vigilance, on every state intent,
Defeats their plots, and overrules the' event.
But whither do my vain endeavours tend?
Or how shall I my rash attempt defend?
Divided in my choice, from praise to praise
I rove, bewilder'd in the pleasing maze.
One virtue mark'd, another I pursue,
While yet another rises to my view.
Unequal to the task, too late I find
The growing theme unfinish'd left behind.
Thus, the deluded bee, in hopes to drain
At once the thymy treasure of the plain,
Wide ranging, on her little pinions toils,
And skims o'er hundred flowers for one she spoils :
When, soon o'erburthen'd with the fragrant weight,
Homeward she flies, and flags beneath her freight.
DEPARTING FROM DUBLIN. 1726.
BEHOLD, Britannia waves her flag on high,
And calls forth breezes from the western sky,
And beckons to her son, and smooths the tide,
That does Hibernia from her cliffs divide.
Go, Carteret, go; and, with thee, go along
The nation's blessing, and the poet's song;
Loud acclamations, with melodious lays,
The kindest wishes, and sincerest praise.
Go, Carteret, go; and bear my joys away!
So speaks the Muse, that fain would bid thee stay:
So spoke the virgin, to the youth unkind,
Who gave his vows, and canvass, to the wind,
And promised to return; but never more
Did he return to the Threïcian shore.
Go, Carteret, go: alas, a tedious while Hast thou been absent from thy mother-isle; A slow-paced train of months to thee and thine, A flight of moments to a heart like mine, That feels perfections, and resigns with pain Enjoyments I may never know again.
O, while mine eye pursues the fading sails, Smooth roll, ye waves, and steady breathe, ye gales, And urge with gentle speed to Albion's strand A household fair, amidst the fairest land, In every decency of life polite,
A freight of virtues, wafting from my sight!
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