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Whilst this grand chorus Makes the skies
“ Above, beneath the sun, “ Through boundless age, by men, by gods,
“Jehovah's will be done." "Tis done in heaven ; whence headlong hurl'd
Self-will with Satan fell;
Or earth's anoiber hell;.
Self-will's the deadly foe
And points the Masts of woe :
Now virtue claims her due :
Tis safe ; I write to You :
In ever judging right;
Which dim the mental light :
From storm that fafc resort;
Our admiral in port.
How dismal and forlorn?
A blelling to be born;
Or fapp'd by low decay,
Is swiftly whirl'd away;
Of death can rob the just !
Soft pillows' in the dust!
Your utmost power employ; 'Tis noble chemilyy to turn
Necessity to joy.
My fate shall be my choice :
To praise and to rejoice;
O rich eternity!
Charm'd with one glimpse of thee.
How glorious doit thou shine!
A beam of joy divine !
'The truth severe I tell) Is an impenitent in guilt,
A fool or infidel :
From joyless murmur free;
Shall crowd you of the three.
Resign, resign :'this lesson norte
Tov deeply can instill;
Than have resign'd the will ;
Superior in renown,
Than him who wears a crown ;
It kindled a strange aim,
The grandeur of my theme;
Its lofty theme below!
And numbers cease to flow.
For others, ne'er may rise
Can't make our wisdom wife;
How infamous the fault !
“ Indeed, beneath the taught !" Means molt infallible to make
The world an infidel;
To pave a path to hell;
Q! for a foul on Gre,
Where angels fring the lyre ;
(Hard, what most easy seems) “ To set a jurt esteem on that,
“ Which yet hemmost esteems.” What shall we tay, when boundless bliss
Is offer'd to mankind,
Of rationals is blind?
Are our ideas wrought;
Depress'd the daring thought,
Though you, long since beyond Britannia Though Europe's wealth and glory claim'd a. known,
part, Have spread your country's glory with own; Religion's cause reign'd mistress of her heart ; To nie you never did more lovely shine,
She law, and griev'd to see, the mean estate
Know, fir, the great esteem and honour due, What strikes my light? does proud Augusta, I chose that moment to profess to you,
rife When sadness reign'd, when fortune, fo severe,
New to behold, and awfully furprize! Had warm's our bosons to be molt sincere. Her lofty brow more numerous turrets crown, And when no motives could have force to raise And sacred domes on palaces look down : A serious value, and provoke my praise,
A noble pride of piety is shown, But such as rise above, and far transcend
And temples cast a lustre on the throne. Whatever glories with this world shall end, How would this work another's glory raise ! Then thining forth, when deepest shades shall blot But Anna's greatness robs her of the praise. The sun's bright orb, and Cafo be forgot. Drown'd in a brighter blaze it disappears, 1 ling--but ah! my theme I need not tell, Who dry'd the widow's, and the orphan's tears! See every eye with conscious sorrow swell Who stoop'd from high to fuccour the distrest, Who now to verse would raise his humble voice, And reconcile the wounded heart to rest ? Can only shew his daty, not his choice.
Great in her goodness, well could we perceive, How great the weight of grief our hearts sullain! Whoever fought, it was a queen that gave. We languish, and to speak is to complain. Misfortune lost her name, her guiltless frown Let us look back, (for who top oft can view
But made another debtor to the crown; That most illustrious scene, for ever New!) And cach unfriendly stroké, from fate we, bore, See all the seasons shine on Anna's throne, Became our title to the regal ftore. And pay a constant trigute, not their own. Thus injur'd trees adopt a foreign shoot, Her summer's beats nor fruits alone beltow, And their wounds blossom with a fairer fruit. They reap the harvest, and fubdue the foe; Ye numbers, who on your misfortunes thrivid, And when black storms confefs the distant fun, When first the dreadful blast of fame arriv’d, Her winters wear the wreaths her summers won. Say what a shock, what agonies you felt, Revolving pleasures in their turns appear, How did your souls with tender anguilh melt! And triumphs are the product of the year. That grief which living Anna's love supprest, To crown the whole, great joys in greater cease, Shook like a tempelt every grateful breast. and glorious victory is lost in peace.
A second fate our linking fortunes try'd! Whence this profusion on our favour'd ie? A second time our tender parents dy'd! Did partial fortune on our virtue finile ?
Heroes returning from the field we crown, Os did the sceptre, in great Anna's hand, And deiấy the haughty victor's frown. Stretch forth this rich indulgence o'er our land? His fplendid wealth too ralhly we admire, Ungrateful Britain ! quit thy groundless claim, Catch the disease, agd born with equal fire : Thy queen and thy good fortune are the same. Wisely to spend, is the great art of gain ;
Hear, with alar:ns our trumpets fill the sky'; And one reliev'd traofcends a million flain. 'Tis Anna reigns! the Gallic squadrons fly. When time thall alk, where once Ramillia lay, We spread our canvass to the southern Shore; Or Danube flow'd that swept whole troops away, 'Tis Anna reigns! the south resigns her fore. One drop of water, that refresh'd the dry, Her virtue smooths the tumult wf the main, Shall rise a fountain of eternal joy. And swells the field with mountains of the slain. But ahl to that unknown and distanț date; Argyll and Churchill but the glory share, Is virtue's great reward push'd off by fate; While millions lie subdued by Anna's prayer. Here random thafts in every breast are found,
How great her zeal! how fervent her delire ! Virtue and merit but provoke the wound. How did her soul in holy warmth expire ! August in natire worth and regal state, Constant devotion did her time divide,
Anna sate arbitress of Europe's fate ; Not set returns of pleasure or of pride.
To distant realms did every accent fiy, Not want of relt, or the sun's parting ray,
And nations watch'd each motion'of her eye. But finilli'd duty, limited the day.
Silent, nor longer awful to be seen, How sweet succeeding sleep! what lovely themes How small a Ipot contains the mighty queen! Smil'd in her thoughts, and soften'd all her No throng of suppliant princes mark the place, dreams!
Where Britain's greatness is compas'd in peace': Her royal couch descending angels spread, The broken earth is scarce discern'd to rise, And join'd their wings a Maelter o'er her head. And a stone tells us where the monarch lies.
KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF
Thus end matoreft honours of the crown ! No wonder then her various ranks agree
In all the fervencies of zeal for thee.
What though thy birth a distant kingdom Breathes through his tube ; he fees, with eager boalt, joy,
And feas divide thee'from the British coal? The trembling bubble, in its rifing small; The crown's impatient to enclose thy head: And by degrees expands the glitering ball. Why slay thy feet? the cloth of gold is spread. But when, to full perfectiou blown, it Ries Our ftri&t obedience through the world shall tell High in the air, and shines in various dyes, That king's a Briton, who can go'ern well! The little monarch, with a falling tear, Sces his world barst at once, and disappear., 'Tis not in forrow to reverse our doom, No groans unlock th' inexerable tomb ! Why then this fond indulgence of our woe! What fruit can rise, or what advantage flow! Yes, this advantage; from our deep distress We learn how much in George the Gods can
IN S T A L M E N T, bless. Had a less glorious princess left the throne, But half the hero kad at first been shown : An Anna falling all the king employs,
THE RIGHT HON. SIR ROB. WALPOLE, To vindicate from guilt our rising joys ; Our joys arise and innocently shine, Aufpicious monarch! what a praise is thine !
Welcome, great stranger, to Britannia's throne! Nor let thy country think thee all her uwn.
MDCCXXVI. Of thy delay how oft did we complain ! Our hopes reach'd out, and met thee on the TITH invocations fome their breasts in main.
fame; With prayer we smooth the billows for thy fleet; I need no Muse, a Walpole is my theme. With ardent wishes fill thy swelling meet;
Ye mighty dead, ye garter'd fons of praise! And when thy foot took place on Alhion's more, Our niorning stars ! our boast in former days! We bending bless'd the Gods, and alk'd no more. Which hovering o'er, your purple wings dite What hand bnt thine Mould conquer and com- play, pore,
Lur'd by the pomp of this distinguish'd day, Join those whom interest joins, and chace our Stoop, and attend: by one, the knee be bound; foes?
One, throw the mantle's crimson folds arnund; Repel the daring youth's presumptuous aim, By that, the Sword on his proud thigh be plac'd; And by his rival’s greatness give him fame? This, clasp the diamond-girdle round his wais); Now in some foreign court he may sit down, His breaft, with rays, let juf Godolphin spread; And qut without a blush the British crown. Wise Burleigh plant the piumage on bis head; Secure his honour, though he lose his store, And Edward own since firit he fx'd the race, And take a lucky moment to be poot.
None pieft fair glory with a swifter pace. Nor think, great sir, now first, at this late When fate would call fome' mighty genius hour,
forth in Britain's favour, you exert your power ; To wake a drooping age to godlike worth, To us, far back in time, I joy to trace
Or aid some favourite king's illuftrious toil
, The numerous tokens of your princely grace. It bids his blood with generous ardour boil; Whether you chose to thunder on the Rhine, His blood, from virtue's celebrated fource, Inspire grave councils, or in courts to shine; Pour'd down-the steep. of time, a lengthen'd In the more scenes your genius was display'd,
course; The greater debt was on Britannia laid :
That men prepar'd may just attention pay, They all conspir'd this mighty man to raise, Warn’d by the dawn to mark the glorious day, And your new subjects proudly share the praise. When all the scatter'd merits of his line
All thare ; but may not we have leave to buant Collected to a point, intenfely shine. that we contemplate, and enjoy it most?
See, Britain, see thy Walpole shine from far, This ancient nurse of arts, indulg'd by fate His azure ribbon, and his radiant star; Ou gentle Ilis' bank, a calm retreat,
A far that, with auspicious beams, fall glide For many, rolling ages justly famı'd,
Thy vessel safe, through fortune's roughest tide. Ilas through the world her loyalty proclaim'd ; If peace still smiles, by this shall commerce And often pour'd (too well the truth is known !) feer Her blood and treasure to support the throne ! A finish'd course, in triumph round the sphere; l'or England's church her latest accents firain'd; And, gathering tribote from each distant fore, And freedoni with his dying hand retain'd, lo. Britain's lap the world's abundance pour.
te war's ordain'd, this star shall dart its beams " His council guides, his temper chears our ille, Through that black cloud which rising from the “ And, smiling, gives three kingdoms cause to Thames,
smile." With thunder, form'd of Brunswick's wrath, is Joy then to Britain, bleft with such a fon, fent
To Walpole joy, by whom the prize is won ; To claim the seas, arid awe the continent. Who nobly contcious meets the smiles of fate. This thall direct it, where the bolt to throw, True greatness lies in daing to be great. Altar for us, a comet to the foe.
Let daftard souls, or affectation, run
Honours, which make the face of virtue fair,
Since Brunswick's smile has authoriz'd my Mufe, And sheds rich feeds of worth for future time.
The violet rose, fair daughter of his blood.
Who fhices illustrious not in wars alone. Fiom verse rank flattery's vivacious feed,
Let fame look lovely in Britannia's eyes ; And rooted deep; one means 1 set them free They coldly court defert, who fame despise. Patron! and patriot! let them ang of thee. For what's ambition, but fair virtue's fail ?
While vulgar trees ignobler bonours wear, And what applause, but her propitioits gale? Nor those retain, when winter chills the year; When swell'd with that, she fleets before the wind The generuus Orange, favourite of the fun, To glorious aims, as to the port design'd; With vigorous charms can through the fiafons run; When chain'd, without it, to the labouring gat, Defies the storin with her tenacious gicen; She toils! The pants! nor gains the Aying shore; And Howers and fruits in rival pomp are seen : From her fublime pursuits, or turn’d aside Where blossoms fall, still fairer blossomis spring ; By blasts of envy's or by fortune's tide : And midst their sweets the feather'd poets ling. for one that has succeeded ten are lost,
On Walpole, thus, may pleas’d Britannia view Of cqual talents, ere they make the coast. At once her ornament and profit tod;
Then let renown to worth divine incite, The fruit of service, and the bloom of fame; With all her beams, but throw those beams aright. Matur'd, and gilded by the royal beam.
Theit merit droops, and genius downward tends, He, when the nipping blasts of envy rife's When godlike glory, like our land, descends. Its guilt can pity, and its rage despise;
Custom the gurter long confin’d to few, Lets fall no honours, but fecurely great
And gave to birth, exalted virtue's due : Unfaded hoids the colour of his fate :
Walpole has thrown the proud enclosure down; No winter knows, though ruffling factions press; And high desert embraces fair renown. By wisdom deeply rooted in success;
Though rival'd, let the peerage smiling fee One glory shed, a brighter is display'd'; (Smiling, in judice to their own degree, And the harm'd Mules Thelier in his lhade. This proud reward by majesty bellow'd
O how I long, en kindlal by the theme, On worth like that whence first the peerage In deep eternity to launch thy name!
How'di Thy name in view, no rights of verle I piead, From frowns of fate Britannia's bliss to guard, But what chaste truth indites, old time thull icad. Let tutjects merit, add let kings reward.
“ Behold! a man of ancient faith and blood, ruus are rost Gods by giving to excel, " Which, foon, beat liighi for arts, and public and kings most like ihem, by rewarding well.'
Though trong the twanging nerve, and drawn “ Whole glory great, but natural apreurs,
aright, « The genuine growth of services and years ; Short is the winged arrow's upward Aight'; “ No sudden exhalation drawn on high,
But if an eagle it transfix on high, “ And fondly gilt by partial majelty :
Lodg'u in the wound, it foars into the sky. “ Ooe bearing greatest toils with greatest case, Thus while I sing thee with unequal lays, • Ope born to serve us, and yet forn to please : Apd wound perhaps that worth I in an to praise , " Whom, while oor rights in equal scales he lays, Yet I transcend myself, I rise in fame, “ The prince may trun, and yet the people praise; Not lifted by my genius, but my theme. “ His genius ardent; yet his judgment clear, No more : for in this dread fufpende of fate, * His tongue is flowing, and his heart sincerc, Now kingdoms fluctuate, and in dark debais * Knight of the Ball, and then of the Garter.
Weigh Vol. VIII.
Wrigh peace and war, now Europe's eyes are No more the rising harvest whets the swordi
No longer waves uncertain of its lord;
Who cast the feed, the golden theaf shall claim,
And thank greut Anna for returning peace.
No longer he invokes the gods in vain,
But rises to new life; in every field RIGHT HON. GEO. LORD LANSDOWNE, He finds Elysium, livers nectar yield; « -Parnallia laurus
Nothing fo cheap and vulgar hut can please, Parva fub ingenti matris fe subjicit umbra.”
And borrow beauties frum his late difcafe. VIRG.
Nor is it peace alone, but such a peace, As more than bids the rage of battle ceale,
Death may determine war, and rift succeed,
CHEN Rome, my lord, in her full glors 'Cause nought survives on which our ruge may
Nor miss his Lansdowne in the court of France ;
So well receiv'd, so welcome, fo at home,
Will not that Anna call him all her own;
He claims a part, and looking round to find The Muse's friend is plcasid the Muse uld something might speak the fulness of his mind, press
A diamond thines, which oft had touch'd him ncar, Through circling crowds, and labour for access, Rencw'd his grief, and robb’d him of a tear; That partial to his darling he may prove,
Now first with joy beheld, well pleas'd on one,
So dear is Anna's miniller, so great
Long has the western world reclin'd her head, To niake out nations longer two, in vain
The Gallic Thore to distant Britain grows,
In vain kind summers plenteous fields bestuw'd, Each wound receiv'd, now pleads the calife of love,
And former injuries endearments piove.
That cause of fear to Churchill could afford?
Thus generous hatred in affection ends,
When now in view of his lov'd native lhore,