How with discerning choice, to nature true,
He cropp'd the simple flowers, or violet,
Or crocus bud, that with ambrosial hue
The banks of silver Helicon beset:
Nor seldom wak'd the Muse's living lyre [quire! To sounds that call'd around Aonia's listening
How to the few with sparks ethereal stor❜d,
He never barr'd his castle's genial gate, [board,
But bade sweet Thomson share the friendly
Soothing with verse divine the toil of state!
Hence fir'd, the Bard forsook the flowery plain, And deck'd the regal masque, and tried the tragic strain.
KING GEORGE THE SECOND.
TO MR. SECRETARY PITT.* 1761.
So stream the sorrows that embalm the brave,
The tears that Science sheds on Glory's grave!
So pure the vows which classic duty pays,
To bless another Brunswick's rising rays!
O Pitt! if chosen strains have power to steal Thy watchful breast awhile from Britain's weal; If votive verse from sacred Isis sent
Might hope to charm thy manly mind, intent
On patriot plans, which ancient freedom drew,
Awhile with fond attention deign to view
• Afterwards Earl of Chatham. This and the two following poems close the collection of Oxford Verses on their respective occasions; and were written while the Author was Poetry Professor.
This ample wreath, which all the' assembled Nine With skill united have conspir'd to twine.
Yes, guide and guardian of thy country's cause!
Thy conscious heart shall hail with just applause
The duteous Muse, whose haste officious brings
Her blameless offering to the shrine of kings:
Thy tongue, well tutor'd in historic lore,
Can speak her office and her use of yore:
For such the tribute of ingenuous praise
Her harp dispens'd in Grecia's golden days;
Such were the palms, in isles of old renown,
She cull'd, to deck the guiltless monarch's crown;
When virtuous Pindar told, with Tuscan gore
How sceptred Hiero* stain'd Sicilia's shore,
Or to mild Theron's† raptur'd eye disclos'd
Bright vales, where spirits of the brave repos'd
Yet still beneath the throne, unbrib'd, she sate,
The decent handmaid, not the slave of state;
Pleas'd in the radiance of the regal name
To blend the lustre of her country's fame :
For, taught like ours, she dar'd, with prudent pride,
Obedience from dependence to divide :
Though princes claim'd her tributary lays,
With truth severe she temper'd partial praise ;
Conscious she kept her native dignity,
Bold as her flights, and as her numbers free.
And sure if e'er the Muse indulg'd her strains, With just regard to grace heroic reigns,
Hiero was Tyrant of Syracuse, about 500 years before Christ. His victories at the Grecian games are the subjects of the 1st Olympic, and the 1st, 2d, and 3d Pythian Odes of Pindar. + Theron was Tyrant of Agrigentum ; his victories are cele brated in the 2d and 3d Olympic Odes.
Where could her glance a theme of triumph own
So dear to fame-as George's trophied throne?
At whose firm base, thy steadfast soul aspires
To wake a mighty nation's ancient fires:
Aspires to baffle Faction's specious claim,
Rouse England's rage, and give her thunder aim.
Once more the main her conquering banners sweep,
Again her commerce darkens all the deep.
Thy fix'd resolve renews each firm decree
That made, that kept of yore, thy country free.
Call'd by thy voice, nor deaf to war's alarms,
Its willing youth the rural empire arms:
Again the lords of Albion's cultur'd plains
March the firm leaders of their faithful swains;
As erst stout archers, from the farm or fold,
Flam'd in the van of many a baron bold.
Nor thine the pomp of indolent debate,
The war of words, the sophistries of state;
Nor frigid caution checks thy free design,
Nor stops thy stream of eloquence divine :
For thine the privilege, on few bestow'd,
To feel, to think, to speak, for public good.
In vain Corruption calls her venal tribes;
One common cause, one common end prescribes :
Nor fear nor fruad, or spares or screens the foe,
But spirit prompts, and valour strikes, the blow.
O Pitt! while honour points thy liberal plan,
And o'er the minister exalts the man,
Isis congenial greets thy faithful sway,
Nor scorns to bid a statesman grace her lay.
For 'tis not hers, by false connexions drawn,
At splendid Slavery's sordid shrine to fawn:
Each native effort of the feeling breast,
To friends, to foes, in equal fear, supprest:
"Tis not for her to purchase or pursue
The phantom favours of the cringing crew.
More useful toils her studious hours engage,
And fairer lessons fill her spotless page.
Beneath ambition, but above disgrace,
With noble arts she forms the rising race.
With happier tasks, and less refin❜d pretence,
In elder times, she woo'd Munificence
To rear her arched roofs in regal guise,
And lift her temples nearer to the skies;
Princes and prelates stretch'd the social hand,
To form, diffuse, and fix her high command:
From kings she claim'd, yet scorn'd to seek the prize;
From kings, like George, benignant, just, and wise!
Lo, this her genuine lore.-Nor thou refuse
This humble present of no partial Muse,
From that calm bower,* which nurs'd thy thoughtful
youth
In the pure precepts of Athenian truth;
Where first the form of British Liberty
Beam'd in full radiance on thy musing eye;
That form, whose mien sublime, with equal awe,
In the same shade unblemish'd Somers saw :
Where once (for well she lov'd the friendly grove
Which every classic grace had learn'd to rove)
Her whispers wak'd sage Harrington, to feign
The blessings of her visionary reign;
That reign, which now no more, an empty theme,
Adorns Philosophy's ideal dream,
But crowns at last, beneath a George's smile,
In full reality, this favour'd isle.
* Trinity-College, Oxford: in which also Lord Somers, and James Harrington, author of the Oceana, were educated. W.
MARRIAGE OF THE KING. 1761.
WHEN first the kingdom to thy virtues due,
Rose from the billowy deep in distant view;
When Albion's isle, old Ocean's peerless pride,
Tower'd in imperial state above the tide;
What bright ideas of the new domain
Form'd the fair prospect of thy promis'd reign!
And well with conscious joy thy breast might beat,
That Albion was ordain'd thy regal seat:
Lo! this the land, where Freedom's sacred rage
Has glow'd untam'd through many a martial age.
Here patriot Alfred, stain'd with Danish blood,
Rear'd on one base the king's, the people's good:
Here Henry's archers fram'd the stubborn bow,
That laid Alanzon's haughty helmet low;
Here wak'd the flame, that still superior braves
The proudest threats of Gaul's ambitious slaves:
Here Chivalry, stern school of valour old,
Her noblest feats of knightly fame enroll❜d;
Heroic champions caught the clarion's call,
And throng'd the feast in Edward's banner'd hall;
While chiefs, like George, approv'd in worth alone,
Unlock'd chaste beauty's adamantine zone.
Lo! the fam'd isle, which hails thy chosen sway,
What fertile fields her temperate suns display!
Where Property secures the conscious swain,
And guards, while Plenty gives, the golden grain:
Hence with ripe stores her villages abound,
Her airy downs with scatter'd sheep resound;
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