Ta him transfus'd his godlike father reigns,
Fich in the blood which swell'd that patriot's veins,
Who boldly faithful met his fovereign's frown,
And fcorn d for gold to yield th' important town.
His fon was born the ravish d prey to claim,
And france ftill trembles at an Harley's name.
A fort fo dreadful to our I.nglish fhore,
Our fle ts scarce fear'e the fands or tempefts more,
Whofe vaft exp nces to fuch fums amount,
That the tax'd Gaul fc fce furnish'd out th' ac-
count,

Whofe walls fuch bulwarks, fuch vaft towers reftrain,

Its weakest ramparts are the rocks and main,
His boat great Louis yields, and cheaply buys
Thy friendship, Anna, with the mighty prize.
Holland repining, and in griet cast down,
Sees the new glories of the British crown:
Ah! may they ne'er provoke thee to the fight,
Nor foes, more dreadful than the Gaul, invite.
Soon may they hold the olive, foon afswage
Their fecret murmurs, nor call forth thy rage
To rend their banks, and pour, at one command,
Thy realm, the fea, o'er their precarious land.

Henceforth be thine, vice-gerent of the skies,
Scorn'd worth to raise, and vice in robes chastise,
To dry the orphan's tear, and from the bar
Chace te brib'd judge, and hufh the wordy war,
Deny the curft blafphemer's tongue to rage,
And turn God's fury from an impious age.
Bleft change! the foldier's late destroying hand
Shall rear new temples in his native land;
Mistaken zealots fhall with fear behold,
And beg admittance in our facred fold;
On her own works the pious qneen fhall fmile,
And turn her cares upon her favourite ifle.

So the keen bolt a warrior angel aims, Array'd in clouds, and wrapt in mantling flames; He bears a tempeft on his founding wings, And his red arm the forky vengeance flings; At length, heaven's wrath appeas'd,he quits the war, To roll his orb, and guide his deftiu'd ftar, To fhed kind fate, and lucky hours beftow, And fmile propitious on the world below.

Around thy throne fhall faithful nobles wait, Thefe guard the church, and thofe direct the state. To Bristol, graceful in maternal tears, The church her towery forehead gently rears; She begs her pious fon t' affert her caufe, Defend her rights, and reinforce her laws, With holy zeal the facred work begin, To bend the stubborn, and the meek to win.

Our Oxford's carl in careful thought fhall ftand, To raise his queen, and fave a finking land. The wealthiest glebe to ravenous Spaniards known He marks, and makes the golden world our own, Content with hands unfoil'd to guard the prize, And keep the ftore with undefiring eyes.

So round the tree, that bore Hefperian gold, The facred watch lay curl'd in many a fold, His eyes up-rearing to th' untailed prey, The fleeplef, guardian wafted life away.

Beneath the peaceful olive, rais'd by you, Her ancient pride shall every heart renew,

(The arts which you fam'd Harcourt shall defend, And courtly Bolingbroke the Muse', 1, iend.) With piercing eye fome fearch where nature plays, And trace the wanton through her dark on e maze, Whence health from herbs; from feeds how groves begun,

How vital ftreams in circling eddies run.

Some teach why round thefu the fpheres advance,
In the fix'd measures of their mystic dance,
How tides, when heav'd by preffing moons, o'er-
flow,

And fun-born 'ris paints her fhowery bow.
In happy chains our darling language bound,
Shall fport no more in arbitrary f and,
But bufkin'd bards henceforth fhall wifely rage,
And Grecian plans reform Britannia's ftage:
Till Congreve bids her mile, Augusta stands
And longs to weep when flowing Rowe commands.
Britain's Spectators shall their ftrength combine
To mend our morals, and our taste refine,
Fight virtue's caufe, ftand up in wit's defence,
Win us from vice, and laugh us into fenfe.
Nor, Prior, haft thou hufh'd the trump in vain,
Thy lyre fhall now revive her mirthful train,
New tales fhall now be told; if right I see,
The foul of Chaucer is restor'd in thee,
Garth, in majeftic numbers, to the stars
Shall raife mock heroes, and fantaftic wars;
Like the young spreading laurel, Pope, thy name
Shoots up with ftrength, and rifes into fame;
With Philips fhall the peaceful vallies ring,
And Britain hear a fecond Spenfer fing.
That much-lov'd youth, whom Utrecht's walls
confine,

To Bristol's praises fhall his Strafford's join:
He too, from whom attentive Oxford draws
Rules for just thinking, and poetic laws,
To growing bards his learned aid fhall lend,
The tricket critic, and the kindest friend.
Ev'n mine, a bashful Mufe, whofe rude effays
Scarce hope for pardon, not aspire to praite,
Cherish'd by you in time may grow to fame
And mine furvive with Briftol's glorious name.
Fir'd with the views this glittering scene dif-
plays,

And fmit with paflion for my country's praise,
My artless reed attempts this lofty theme,
Where facred ffis rolls her ancient ftream;
In cloister'd domes the great Philippa's pride,
Where learning blooms, while fame and worth
prefide,

Where the fifth Henry arms and arts was taught,
And Edward form'd his Creffy yet unfought,
Where laurel'd bards have ftruck the warbling
ftrings,

The feat of f: ges, and the nurse of kings.
Here thy commands, O Lancaster, inflame
My eager breaft to raise the British name,
Urge on my foul, with no ignoble pride,
To woo the Mufe, whom Addifon enjoy'd;
See that bold fwan to heaven fublimely fear,
Purfue at distance, and his fteps adore.

ΤΟ

7

HE Opera firft Italian mafters taught.
Inrich'd with forgs, but innocent of thought;

Britannia's learned theatre difdains
Melodious trifles and enervative strains;
And blufhes, on her injur'd ftage to fee
Nonfenfe well-tun'd, and fweet ftupidity.

No charms are wanting to thy artful fong,
Soft as Corelli, and as irgil ftrong.
From words fo fwcet new grace the notes receive,
And mufic borrows helps, the us'd to give.
The ftyle hath match'd what ancient Romans
knew,

Thy flowing numbers far excel the new.
Their cadence in fuch eafy found convey'd,
The height of thought may feem fuperfluous aid;
Yet in fuch charms the noble thoughts abound,
That needlefs feem the fweets of ealy found.

Landfkips how gay the bowery grotto yields,
Which thought creates, and lavish fancy builds!
What art can trace the vifionary fcenes,
The flowery groves, and everlafting greens,
The babbling founds that mimic echo plays,
The fairy fhade and its eternal maze?
Nature and Art in all their charms combin'd,
And all lyftum to one view confin'd!
No further could imagination roam,
Till Vanbrugh fram'd, and Marlborough rais'd
the dome.

Ten thousand pangs my auxious bofom tear, When drown'd in tears I fee th' im loring fair; When bards lefs foft the moving words fupply, A feeming juftice dooms the nymph to die; But here the begs, nor can fhe beg in vain, (In dirges thus expiring fwans complain); Each verfe fo fwells expreffive of her woes, And every tear in lines fo mournful flows; We, fpite of fame her fate revers'd believe, O'erlook her crimes, and think he ought to live. Let joy falute fair Rofamanda's fhade, And wreathes of myrtle crown the lovely maid. While now perhaps with Dido's ghoft the roves, And hears and tells the ftory of their loves, Alike they mourn. alike they blefs their fate, Since love, which made them wretched, makes

them great.

Nor longer that relentless doom bemoan,
Which gain'd a Virgil, and an Addison.

Accept great monarch of the Britin lays,
The tribute fong an humble fubject pays.
So tries the artlefs lark her early flight,
And foars to hail the god of verfe and light.
Unrival'd as unmatch'd be fill thy f me,
And thy own laurels fhade thy envy'd name.
Thy name, the boaf of all the tuneful quire,
Shall tremble on the ftrings of every lyre;
While the charm'd reader with thy thought
complies,

Feels correfponding joys or forrows rife,
And views thy Rofamond with Henry's eyes.

TO THE SAME,

ON HIS TRAGEDY OF CATO.

00 long hath love engrofs'd Britannia's
ftage,

And funk to foftnefs all our tragic rage:
And fate depended on a fair one's eyes :
By that alone did empires fall or rife,

The fweet infection, mixt with dangerous art,
Debas'd our manhood, while it footh'd the heart.
You fcorn to raise a grief thyfelf mu blame,
Nor from our weaknefs fteal a vulgar fame:
A patriot's fall may justly melt the mind,
And tears flow nobly, fhed for all mankind.

How do our fouls with generous pleasure glow!
Our hearts exulting, while our eyes o'crflow,
When thy firm hero ftands beneath the weight
Of all his fufferings venerably great;
Rome's poor remains ftill fheltering by his fide,
With confcious virtue, and becoming pride!

The aged oak thus rears his head in air, His fap exhaufted and his branches bare; 'Midlt ftorms and earthquakes he maintains his -ftate,

Fixt deep in earth, and faften'd by his weight:
His naked boughs ftill lend the shepherds aid,
And his old trunk projects an awful fhade.

Amidst the joys triumphant peace bestows,
Our patriots fadden at his glorious woes;
Awhile they let the world's great business wait,
Anxious for Rome, and figh for Cato's fate.
Here taught how ancient heroes rofe to fame,
Our Briton & crowd, and catch the Roman flame,
Where ftates and fenates well might lend an ear,
And kings and pricfts without a blush appear.

France boafts no more but, fearful to engage, Now first pays homage to her rival's ftage, Haftes to learn thee, and learning fhall fubmit Alike to British arms and British wit: No more the II wonder, forc'd to do us right, Who think like Romans, could like Romans fight. Thy Oxford fmiles this glorious work to fee, And fondly triumphs in a fou like thee.

he fenates, confuls, and the gods of Rome, Like old acquaintance at their native home, In thee we find; each deed, each word expreft, And every thought that fwell'd a Roman breast, We trace each nint that could thy fou! infpire With Virgil's judgment, and with Lucan's fire; We know thy worth, and, give us leave to boast, We moll admire, becaufe we know thee moft.

Another draws fierce Lucifer in arms,
And fills th' infernal region with alarms;
A third awakes fome Druid, to foretel
Each future triumph, from his dreary cell.
Exploded fancies! that in vain deceive,
While the mind naufeates what the can't believe.
My Mufe th' expected hero fhall pursue
From clime to clime, and keep him ftill in view;
His fhining march describe in faithful lays,
Content to paint him, nor prefume to praife;
Their charms, if charms they have, the truth
fupplies.

And from the theme unlabour'd beauties rife.

By longing nations for the throne design'd,
And call'd to guard the rights of human-kind;
With fecret grief his god-like foul repines,
And Britain's crown with joyless luftre fhines,
While prayers and tears his deftin'd progrefs ftay,
And crowds of mourners choke their fovereign's
way.

Not fo he march'd, when hoftile fquadrons ftood
In scenes of death, and fir'd his generous blood;
When his hot courfer paw'd th' Hungarian plain,
And adverfe legions ftood the fhock in vain.
His frontiers paft, the Belgian bounds he views,
And cross the level fields his march pursues.
Here pleas'd the land of freedom to survey,
He greatly fcorns the thirst of boundless fway.
O'er the thin foil, with filent joy, he fpies
Tranfplanted woods, and borrow'd verdure rife;
Where every meadow won with toil and blood,
From haughty tyrants and the raging flood,
With fruit and flowers the careful hind fupplies,
And clothes the marflies in a rich difguife.
Such wealth for frugal hands doth heaven decree,
And fuch thy gifts, celeftial Liberty!

Through fately towns, and many a fertile plain, The pomp advances to the neighbouring main, Whole nations croud around with joyful cries, And view the hero with infatiate eyes.

In Haga's towers he waits, till eaftern gales
Propitious rife to fwell the British fails.
Hither the fame of England's monarch brings
The vows and friendfhips of the neighbouring
kings;

Mature in wifdon, his extenfive mind
Takes in the blended interefts of mankind,

The world's great patriot. Calm thy anxious breaft,

Secure in him, O Europe, take thy reft; Henceforth thy kingdoms fhall remain confin'd By rocks or ftreams, the mounds which heaven defign'd;

The Alps their new made monarch shall reftrain, Nor fhail thy hills, Pirene, rife in vain.

But fee! to Britain's ifle the fquadrons stand, And leave the finking towers, and leffening land. The royal bark bounds o'er the floating plain, Breaks through the billows, and divides the main. O'er the vast deep, great monarch, dart thine eyes, A watery profpeel bounded by the fkies:

Ten thousand veffels, from ten thousand shores, Bring gums and gold, and either India's ftores: Behold the tributes haftening to thy throne, And fce the wide horizon all town.

VOL. V.

Still is it thine; though now the chearful crew
Hail Albion's cliffs; juft whitening to the view.
Before the wind with fwelling fails they ride,
Till Thames receives them in his opening tide.
The monarch hears the thundering peals around,
From trembling woods and echoing hills rebound.
Nor miffes yet, amid the deafening train,
The roarings of the hoarfe-refounding main.
As in the flood he fails, from either fide
He views his kingdom in his rural pride;

| A various fcene the wide-spread landskip yields,
O'er rich inclosures and luxuriant fields;
A lowing herd each fèrtile pasture fills,
And diftant flocks ftray o'er a thousand hills.
Fair Greenwich hid in woods with new delight,
Shade above fhade, now rifes to the fight;
His woods ordain'd to vifit every thore,
And guard the island which they grac'd before.
The fun now rolling down the weilern way,
A blaze of fires renews the fading day;
Unnumber'd barks the regal barge enfold,
Brightening the twilight with its beamy gold;
Lefs thick the finny fhoals, a countless fry,
Before the whale or finny dolphin fly.

In one vaft shout he feeks the crowded strand,
And in a peal of thunder gains the land.

Welcome, great ftranger, to our longing eyes,
Oh! king defir'd, adopted Albion cries.
For thee the Eaft breath'd out a profperous breeze,
Bright were the funs and gently fwell'd the feas
Thy prefence did each doubtful heart compose,
And factions wonder'd that they once were foes.
That joyful day they loft each hoftile name,
The fame their afpect, and their voice the fame.

So two fair twins, whofe features were defign'd At one foft moment in the mother's mind, Show each the other with reflected grace, And the fame beauties bloom in either face; The puzzled ftrangers which is which inquire; Delufion grateful to the failing fire.

From that fair hill

re hoary fages boaft To name the stars, and count the heavenly hoft, By the next dawn doth great Augufta rife, Proud town! the nobleft fcene beneath the fkies. O'er Thames her thousand spires their luftre fhed, And a vast navy hides his ample bed, A floating forelt. From the diftant strand A line of golden carrs ftrikes o'er the land : Britannia's peers in pomp and rich array, Before their king triumphant, lead the way. Far as the cye can reach, the gaudy train, A bright proceffion, fhines along the plain.

So, haply, through the heaven's wide bathless

Thee, Halifax. To thy capacious mind,
O man approv'd, is Britain's wealth confign'd.
Her coin, while Naffau fought debas'd a drude,
By thee in beauty and in truth renew'd,
An arduous work! again thy charge we fee,
And thy own care once more returns to thee.
O form'd in every fcene to awe and please,
Mix wit with pomp, and dignity with ease:
Though call'd to fhine aloft, thou wilt not scorn
To fnule on arts thyfelf did once adorn :
For this thy name fucceeding time fhall praife,
And envy lefs thy garter, than thy bays.

The Mufe, if fir'd with thy enlivening beams,
Perhaps fhall aim at more exalted themes,
Record our monarch in a nobler ftrain,
And fing the opening wonders of his reign;
Pright Carolina's heavenly beauties trace,
Her valiant confort and his biooming race.
A train of kings their fruitful love fupplies,
A glorious frene to Ibion's ravish d eyes;
Who fees by Brunswick's hand her fceptrefway d,
And through his line from age to age convey’d.

AN IMITATION

OF THE PROPHECY OF NEREUS.

FROM HORACE. BOOK II. ODE XV.

"Dicam infigne, recens, adhuc

"Indictum ore alio: non fecus in jugis "Ex fomnis fupet Euias

"Hebrum profpiciens, & nive candidam "Thracen, ac pede barbaro "Luftratam Rhodopen."

A

HOR.

S Mar his round one morning took,
(Whom fome call earl, and fome call due)

And his new brethren of the blade,
Shivering with fear and frost, survey'd,
On Perth's bleak hills he chanc'd to spy
An aged wizard fix foot high,
With bristled hai, and visage blighted,
Wall-eye'd. bare-haunch'd, and fecond-fighted.
The grizly fage in thought profound
Beheld the chief with back fo round,
Then roll'd his eye-balls to and fro
O'er his paternal hills of fnow,
And into thefe tremendous fpeeches
Broke forth the prophet without breeches.
Into what ills betray d, by thee,
This ancient kingdoni do fee!
Her realms un-peopled and forlorn!
Wae's me
that ever thou wert born!

Proud English loons (our clans o'ercome)
On Scottish pads fhall amble home:
I fee them dreft in bonnets blue
(The spoils of thy rebellious crew);
I fee the target cast away,

And chequer'd plaid become their prey,
The chequer'd plaid to make a gown
For many a lafs in London town.

In vain thy hungry mountaineers
Come forth in all thy warlike geers,

The fhield, the pistol, durk, and dagger,
I which they daily wont to fwas ger,
And oft have fally'd out to pillage
The hen-roofts of fome peaceful village,
Or, while their neighbours were afleep,
Have carry'd off a lowland fheep.

What boot thy high-born hofts of beggars, Mac-leans, Mac-kenzies, and Mac-gregors, With p pifh cut-throats, perjur d ruffians, And Fofter troop of raggamuffins?

In vain thy lads around thee bandy,
Inflam'd with bag-pipe and with brandy.
Doth not bold Sutherland the trufty,
With heart fo true, and voice so rusty,
A loyal foul) thy troops affright,
While hoarfely he demands the fight?
Doft thou not generous Ilay dread,
The braveft hand, the wifeft head?
Undaunted dost thou hear th' alarms
Of hoary Athol fheath'd in arms?

Douglas, who draws his lineage down
From Thanes and Peers of high renown,
Fiery, and young, and uncontrol'd,
With knights, and fquires, and barons bold,
(His noble houfhold-band) advances,
And on the milk-white courfer prances.
Thee Forfar to the combat dares,
Grown swarthy in Iberian wars:
And Monroe, kindled into rage,
3ourly defies thee to engage;

He'll rout thy foot, though ne'er fo many,
And horfe to boot-if thou hadst any.

But fee Argyll, with watchful eyes,
Lodg'd in his deep entrenchments lies!
Couch'd like a lion in thy way,
He waits to fpring upon his prey;
While like a herd of timorous deer,
Thy army shakes and pants with fear,
Led by the r doughty general's skill,
From frith to frith from hill to hill.

Is thus thy haughty promife paid
That to the Chevalier was made,
When thou didst oaths and duty barter,
For dukedom, generalfhip, and garter?
Three moons thy Jemmy fhall command,
With Highland fceptre in his hand,
Too good for his pretended birth,

Then down fhall fall the king of Perth. is fo decreed: for George fhall reign, And traitors be forfworn in vain. Heaven fhall for ever on him smile. And blefs him ftill with an Argyll. While theu, pursued by vengeful foes, Condemn'd to barren rocks and fnows, Aud hinder'd paffing Inverlocky, Shall burn the clan, and curfe poor Jocky.

Though much you fuffer, think I fuffer more,
Worfe than an exile on my native shore.
Companions in your mafter's flight you roam,
Unenvy'd by your haughty foes at home;
For ever near the royal outlaw's fide,

You share his fortuner, and his hopes divide,
On glorious schemes, and thoughts of empire
dwell,

And with imaginary titles fwell.

Say, for thou know'ft I own his facred line, The paffive doctrine and the right divine, Say, what new fuccours does the chief prepare? The ftrength of armies? or the force of prayer? Does he from heaven or earth his hopes derive? Irom faints departed, or from priests alive? Not faints nor priests can Brunswick's troops withftand,

And beads drop useless through the zealot's hand; Heaven to our vows may future kingdoms owe, But skill and courage win the crowns below.

Ere to thy caufe, and thee. my heart inclin d, Or love to party had feduc d my mind, In female joys I took a dull dehght. Slept all the morn, and punted half the night : But now, with fears and public care poffett, The church, the church, for ever breaks my reft. The poftboy on my pillow I explore, And lift the news of every foreign shore, Studious to find new friends, and new allies; What armies march from Sweden in difguife: How Spain prepares her banners to unfold, And Rome deal, out her bleffings and her gold: Then o'er the map my finger, taught to stray, Crofs many a region marks the winding way; From fea to lea, from realm to realm I rove, And grow a meer geographer by love: But fill Avignon, and the pleafing coaft That holds thee banish'd, claims my care the moft: Oft on the well-known fpot I fix my eyes, And span the diftance that between us lies.

Let not our James, though foil'd in arms, def pair,

Whilft on his fide he reckons half the fair:
In Britain's lovely ifle a fhining throng
War in his caufe, a thoufand beauties ftrong.
Th' unthinking victors vainly boaft their powers;
Be theirs the mufket, while the tongue is ours.
We reason with fuch fluency and fire,
The beaux we baffle, and the learned tire,
Against her prelates plead the church's caufe,
And from our judges vindicate the laws.
Then mourn not, haplefs prince, thy kingdoms loft;
A crown, though late, thy facred brows may boast;
Heaven feems through us thy empire to decree ;
Those who win hearts, have given their hearts to
thee.

Haft thou not heard that when, profufely gay,
Our well-dreft rivals grac'd their fovereign's day,
We stubborn damfels met the public view.
In lothfome wormwood, and repenting rue?
What Whigs out trembled, when our fpotlefs band
In virgin rofes whiten'd half the land'
Who can forget what fears the foc poffeft,
When oaken-boughs mark d every loyal breaft!

Lefs fear'd than Medway's ftream the Norman ftood,

When crofs the plain he fpy'd a marching wood,
Till, near at hand, a gleam of fwords betray'd
The youth of Kent beneath its wandering thade?
Those who the fuccours of the fair defpife,
May find that we have nails as well as eyes.
Thy female bards, O prince by fortune croit,
At least more courage than thy men can boaft:
Our fex has dar'd the mug-house chiefs to meet,
And purchas'd fame in many a well-fought street.
From Drury-lane, the region of renown,
The land of love, the Paphos of the town,
Fair patriots fallying oft have put t flight
With all their poles, the guardians of the night,
And bore, with fereams of triumph, to their fide
The leader's ftaff in all its painted pride.
Nor fears the hawker in her warbling note
To vend the difcontented itatefman s thought,
Though red with ftripes and recent from the thong,
Sore imitten for the love of facred fong,
The tuneful fi@ers ftill purfue their trade,
Like Philomela arkling in the fhade.
Poor Trott attends, forgetful of a fare,
And hums in concert o er his eafy-chair.

Meanwhile, regardless of the royal caufe,
His fword for James no brother sovereign draws.
The Pope himself, furrounded with alarms,
To France his buils, to Corfu fends his arms,
And though he hears his darlin fon's com laint,
Can hardly fpare one tutelary faint,
But fills them all to guard his own abodes,
And to ready money coins his gods.
The dauntless Swede, purfued by vengeful fees,
Scarce keeps his own hereditary fnows;
Nor must the friendly roof of kind Lorrain
With feafts, regale our garter'd you h again.
Safe Bar-le-Duc. within thy filent grove
The pheafant now may perch, the hare may rove:
The knight, who aims unerring from afar,
Th' adventurous knight, now quits the fylvan

war:

Thy brinded boars may flumber undifmay'd,
Or grunt fecure beneath the chefnu. fhade.
Inconftant Oricans (ftill we mourn the day,

hat trufted Orleans with imperial sway,) lar o'er the Alps our helplefs monarch fends, Far from the call of his defponding friends. Such are the terms to gain Britannia's grace! And fuch the terrors of the Brunswick race!

Was it for this the fan's whole luftre fa.l d, And fudden midnight o'er the moo prevail'd! For this did heaven difplay to mortal eyes Aerial kni hts and combats in the skies! Was it for this Northumbrian ftreams look'd red! And Thames driven backward fhow'd his fecret bea!

་

Falfe auguries! th' infulting victor's scorn!
Ev'n our own prodigies againt us turn!
O portents conftrued on our fide in vain!
Let never Tory truft eclipfe again!
Run clear, ye fountains! be at peace, ye skies!
And, hames, henceforth, to thy green borders
rife!