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P 0 E M S.

On Queen Caroline's rebuilding the Lodgings of the , Inchanted by this prostituted fair,

Black Prince, and Henry V. at Queen's College, Our youth run headlong in the fatal snare;

In height of rapture clasp unheeded pains,

And suck pollution through their tingling veins ? HERE bold and graceful soars, secure of fame, Thy spotless thoughts unfhock'd the priest may The pile, now worthy great Philippa's name,

hear; Mark that old ruin, Gothic and uncouth, (youth; And the pure veltal in her bosom wear. Where the Black Edward pass'd his beardless To conscious blushes and diminish'd pride, (hide ; And the Fifth Henry, for his first renown, Thy glass betrays what treacherous love would Out-fripp'd each rival in a student's gown. Nor harsh thy precepts, but infus'd by stealth,

In that coarse age were princes fond to dwell Pleas'd while they cure, and cheat us into health. With meagre monks, and haunt the silent cell :

Thy works in Chloe's toilet gain a part, Sent from the monarch's to the muse's court, And with his tailor share the fopling's heart: Their meals were frugal, and their neeps were short; Lash'd in thy Satire, the penurious cit To couch at curfeu-time they thought no (corn, Laughs at himself, and finds no harm in wit : And froze at matins every winter morn;

From felon gamesters the raw 'Iquire is free, They read, an early book, the starry frame, And Britain owes her rescued oaks to thee. And lisp'd each constellation by its name;

His miss the frolic viscount dreads to toast, Art after art ftill dawning to their view,

Or his third cure the shallow templar boast; And their mind opening as their stature grew. And the rash fool, who scorn'd the beaten road,

Yet, whose ripe manhood spread our fame so far, Dares quake at thunder, and confess his God. Sages in peace, and demi-gods in war!

The brainless stripling, who, expell’d the town, Who, stern in fight, made echoing Cressi ring, Damn'd the tiff college and pedantic gown, And, mild in conqueft, serv'd his captive king! Aw'd by thy name, is dumb, and thrice a week Who gain'd, at Agincourt, the victor's bays;

Spells uncouth Latin, and pretends to Greek. Nor took himself, but gave good heaven, the A saantering tribe ! such born to wide estates, praise

With yea and no in fenates hold debates : Thy nurselings, ancient dome! to virtue formid;

At length despis'd each to his fields retires, To mercy listening, whilft in fields they storm'd; First with the dogs, and king amidit the 'squires; Fierce to the fierce; and warm th'opprest to save; From pert to stupid, sinks supinely down, Through life rever'd, and worship'd in the grave ! In youth a coxcomb, and in age a clown.

In tenfold pride the mouldering roofs thall thine, Such reader's scorn'd, thou wing'st thy daring The stately work of bounteous Caroline ;

Alight, And blest Philippa, with unenvious eyes,

Above the fars, and tread'st the fields of light; From heaven behold her rival's fabric rise.

Fame, heaven, and hell, are thy exalted theme, If still, bright saint, this spot deserves thy care, And visions such as Jove himself might dream; Incline thee to th' ambitious muse's prayer : Man sunk to Navery, though to glory born, [scorn, 0! could'st thou win young William's bloom to Heaven's pride when upright, and deprav'd his grace

Such hints alone could British Virgil lend, His mother's walls, and fill thy Edward's place, And thou alone deserve from such a friend; How would that genius, whose propitious wings A debt so borrow'd is illustrious shame, Have here twice hover'd o'er the sons of kings, And fame, when shar'd with him, is double fame. Descend triumphant to his ancient seat,

So, flush'd with sweets by beauty's queen bestow'd, And take in charge a third Plantagenet!

With more than mortal charms Æneas glow'd :
Such generous strifes Eugene and Marlborough try,

And as in glory, so in friendthip vie.

Permit these lines by thee to live-nor blame

A muse that pants and languishes for fame; In courts licentious, and a shameless stage, That fears to sink when humbler themes she lings, How long the war fhall wit with virtue wage ? Loft in the mass of mçan forgotten things:





Receiv'il by thee, I prophesy, my rhymes,
The praise of virgins in succeeding times :

Mix'd with thy works, their life no bounds fall Tae haughty Gaul, in ten campaigns o'erthrowo,
But stand protected, as inspir'd, hy thee. [rife,
So some weak shoot, which else would poorly Ost had he mourn'd his boasting leaders bound,

Now ceas'd to think the western world his own. Jove's tree adopts, and lifts him to the skies;

And his proud bulwarks smoking on the ground: Through the new pupil fostering juices flow, Thruit forth the gems, and give the fowers to blow Made timorous vows, and brib'd the faints in

In vain with powers renew'd he filld the plain, Aloft; immortal reigns the plant unknown,

vain; With borrow'd life, and vigour noc his own.

As oft his legions did the fight decline,

Lurk'd in the trench, and kulk'd behind the line. A POEM,

Before his eyes the fancied javelin gleams, To bis Excellency the Lord Priny Seal, on the Prof On glory pait reflects with secret pain,

At feasts he starts, and seems dethron'd in dreams; peel of Peace.

On mines exhausted, and on millions faio.

To Britain's queen the scepter'd suppliant bends, “ Fronde super Mitram, et felici comptus Oli-To her his crowns and infant race commends, VIRG.

Who grieves her fame with Christian blood to buy,
Nor asks for glory at a price so high,

At her decree, the war suspended stands,
CONTENDING kings, and fields of death, too long And Britain's heroes hold their lifted hands;

Their Have been the subje& of the British song.

open brows no threatening frowns disguise, Who hath not read of fam’d Ramillia's plain,

But gentler pallions sparkle in their eyes. Bavaria's fall, and Danube choak'd with plain!

The Gauls, who never in their courts could find Exhaosted themes! a gentler note I raise,

Such temper'd fire with manly beauty join'd, And sing returning peace in softer lays.

Doubt if they're those, whom dreadful to the view Their fury quell'd, and martial sage allay'd,

In forms so fierce their fearful fancies drew; I wait our heroes in the sylvan fhade :

At whose dire panies ten thousand widows preft Disbanding hosts are imag'd to my mind,

Their helpless orphans clinging to the breast. And warring powers in friendly leagues combin'd,

In filent rapture each his foe surveys; While ease and pleasure make the nations sinile,

They vow firm friendship, and give mutual praife. And heaven and Anna bless Britannia's ille.

Bravc minds, howe'er at war, are secret friends ; Well sends our queen her mitred Bristol forth,

Their generous discord with the battle ends; For early counfels fam'd, and long-try'd worth ;

In peace they wonder whence dissension rose,

And ask how fouls fo like could e'er be foes.
Who, thirty rolling years, had oft withheld
The Swede and Saxon froni the dully field;

Methinks I hear more friendly shouts rebound,
Completely form’d to heal the Christian wounds, And social clarions mix their sprightly found.
To pame the kings, and give each king down bounds;

The British flags are furld, her troops disband,

And scatter'd armies seek their native land.
The face of ravag'd nature to repair,
By leagues to folten earth, and heaven by prayer,

The hardy veteran, proud of many a scas,
To gain by love, where rage and Naughter fail,

The manly charms and honours of the war, And make the crosier o'er the sword prevail.

Who hop'd to share his friends illustrious doom, So when great Moses, with Jehovah's wand,

And in the battle find a soldier's tomb, Had scatter'd plagues o'er Iłubborn Pharaoh's land, Leans on his spear to take his farewell view, Now Spread an host of locuits round the shore,

And, fighing, bids the glorious camp adieu. Now turn d Nile's fattening streams to putrid gorc; O'erpay their licepless nights, and crown their toile;

Ye generous fair, receive the brave with smiles, Fienty and gladness mark'd the pricit of God, And tudden almonds fhot from Aaron': rod. Sost beauty is the gallant soldier's due, O thou, from whom these bounteous bieflings i For you they conquer, and they bleed for you. florv,

In vain proud Gaul with boastful Spain conspires, To whon, as chief, the hopes of peace we owe,

When English valour English beauty fires; (For next to thee, the man whom kings contend

The nations dread your eyes, and kings despair To flyle companion, and to make their friend,

Os chiefs fo brave, till they have nymphs fo fair. Great Stafford, rich in every courtly grace,

See the fond wife, in tcars of transport drown'd, With joyful pride accepts the lecond place)

Hugs her rough lord, and wecps o'er every wound, bium Britain's ille, and I lis' facred fyring,

Hangs on the lips that fields of blood selate, One heur, oh, liften while the mules sing!

And (miles, or trembles, at his various fate. 'I hough minifters of mighty monarchs wait,

Near the full bwlhe draws the fancy'd line, With beating hearts to learn their malers fare,

And marks feign'd trenches in the flowing wine, One hour torbear to speak thy queen's commands,

Then sets th' inveled fort before her eyes, Nor think the world, thy charge, neglected stands;

And mines, that whirl'd battalions to the kics: The blissful prospects, in ny verse display'd,

His little listening progeny turn pale, diay lure the stubborn, the deceiv'd persuade :

And beg again to hear the dreadful tale. } v'n thou to peace thalt spcedier urge the way,

Such dire archievements fings the band, that tells And more le balier'd by this shot delay.

Of palfrey'd dames, bold knights, and magic spelen

Where whole brigades one champion's arms o'er A voice like thine, alone, might then assuage throw,

The warrior's fury, and controul his rage; And cleave a giant at a random blow,

To hear thee speak, might the fierce Vandal stand, Slay paynims vile, that force the fair, and tame And fling the brandith'd sabre from his hand. Thc goblin's fury, and the dragon's flanie.

Far hence be driven to Scythia's stormy thore Our eager youth to distant nations run,

The drum’s harth mulic, and the cannon's roar ; To vige fields, their valiant fathers won; [trace, Let grim Bellona haunt the lawless plain, From Flandria's shore their country's fame they where Tartar clans and grizly Coffacks reign; Till far Germania shows her blafted face.

Let the steel'd Turk be deaf to matrons cries, Th' exulting Briton asks his mournful guide, See virgios ravish'd with relentless eyes, Where his hard fate the lost Bavaria try'd : To death gray heads and smiling infants doom, Where Stepney grav'd the stone to Anna's fame, Nor spare the promise of the pregnant womb, He points to Blenheim, once a vulgar name; O'er wasted kingdoms spread his wide command, Here fed the household, there did Tallard yield, The favage lord of an unpeopled land. Here Marlborough turn'd the fortune of the field, Her guiltless glory just Britannia draws On those steep banks, near Danube's raging food : From pure religion, and impartial laws, The Gauls thrice started back, and trembling food: To Europe's wounds a mother's aid she brings, When, Churchill's arm perceiv'd, they stood not And holds in equal scales the rival kings: long,

Her generous sons in choicest gists abound, But plung'd amidst the waves, a desperate throng, Alike in arms, alike in arts renown'd. Crowds whelm'd on crowds dash'd wide the wa. As when sweet Venus (so the fable sings) tery bed,

Awak'd by Nereids, from the ocean springs, And drove the current to its distant head.

With smiles the sees the threatening billows rise, As when by Raphael's, or by Kneller's hands Spread smooth the surge, and clears the louring A warlike courter on the canvas stands,

skies. Such as on Landen bleeding Ormond bore, Light, o'er the deep, with fluttering Cupids Or set young Ammon on the Granic shore;

If chance a generous fteed the work behold, The pearly couch and silver turtles bound;
He snorts, he neighs, he champs the foamy gold : Her treses shed ambrosial odours round.
So, Hocitet feen, tumultuous pallions roll,

Amidit the world of waves fo stands serene And hiots of glory fire the Briton's soul,

Britanma’s isle, the ocean's stately queen; in fancy'd fights he fees the troops engage,

In vain the nations have conspir'd her fall, And all the tempest of the battle rage. [bright, Her trench the sea, and fleets her floating wall :

Charm me, ye powers, with scenes less nobly Defenceless barks, her powerful navy near, Par humbler thoughts th' inglorious muse delight, Have only waves and hurricanes to fear. Content to see the honours of the field

What bold invader, or what land opprest, By ploughshares levellid, or in flowers conceal'd. Hath not her anger quelld, her aid redrest: O'ct Matter'd walis may creeping ivy twine, Say, where have e'er her union-croffes fail'd, And grass luxuriant clothe the harmless mine. But much her arms, her justice more prevail'd! Tanie flocks ascend the breach without a wound, Her labours are, to plead th’Almighty's cause, Or crop the baltion, now a fruitful ground; Her pride, to teach th' untam'd barbarian laws : While thepherds sleep, along the rampard laid, Who conquers wins by brutal strength the prize; Or pipe beneath the formidable fhade.

But 'ris a godlike work to civilize. Who was the man? Oblivion blait his name, Have we forgot how from great Russia's throne Torn out, and blotted from the list of fame! The king, whose power half Europe's regions own, Wło, fond of lawless rule, and proudly brave, Whofe fcepire waving, with one thout rush forth First sunk the filial subject to a llave,

In swarmis che harnels'd millions of the north, His neighbour's realms by frauds unkingly gain'd, Through realms of ice pursued his tedious way In guiltless blood the sacred ermine stain'd, (heart, To court our friendship, and our fame survey I aid schemes for death, to laughter turn'd his Hence the rich prize of useful arts he bore, And Stted murder to the rules of art.

And round his empire spread the learned store: Ah, curft ambition! to thy lures we owe (T'adorn old realms is more than new to raise, All the great ills that mortals bear below.

His country's parent is a monarch's praise.) Curft by the hind, when to the spoil he yields

His bands now march in just array to war, His year's whole sweat, and vainly ripen'd fields ; And Caspian gulfs unusual navies bear; Curft by the maid, torn from her lover's side, With Runick lays Snolen/ko's forests ring, \Vhen left a widow, though not yet a bride ; And wondering Volga hears the muses sing. By mothers cuft, when foods of tears they shed, Did not the painted kings of India grect and scatter useless roses on the dead.

Our Queen, and lay their sceptres at her feet? Oh, sacred Bristol then, what dangers prove Chiefs who full bowls of hostile blood had quaff'd, The arts, thou smil'll on with paternal love? Fam'd for the javelin, and invenom'd thaft, Then, mix'd with rubbish by the brutal foes, Whose haughty brows made favages adore, Jo vain the marble brcathes, the canvas glows; Nor bow'd to less than stars or sun before.

To fhades obscurc the glittering sword pursues Her pitying smile accepts their suppliant claim, E "be gentle poet, and dcfencelcis muse.

And adds four monarchs to the Chrikian name.


Bleft use of power ! O virtuous pride in kings | Thy toils be now to chase the bounding deer, And like his bounty, whence dominion springs : Or view the coursers stretch in wild career. Which o'er new worlds makes heaven's indulgence This lovely scene shall soothe thy soul to rest, fhipe,

And wear each dreadful image from thy breatt. And ranges myriads under laws divine !

With pleasure, by thy conquests shalt thou see Well bought with all that those sweet regions hold, Thy queen triumphant, and all Europe free, With groves of spices, and with mines of gold. No cares, henceforth, shall thy repose destroy,

Fearless our merchant now pursues his gain, But what thou giv'll the world thyself enjoy. And roams securely o'er the boundless main. Sweet solitude: when life's gay hours are Now o'er bis head the polar bear he (pies,

palt, And freezing spangles of the Lapland skies; Howe'er we range, in thee we fix at last; Now swells his canvas to the sultry line,

Toft through tempestuous seas (the voyage o'er) With glittering spoils where Indian grottos shine, Pale we look back, and bless thy friendly shore. Where fumes of incense glad the southern seas, Our own ftrict judges our past life we scan, And walted citron scents the balmy breeze. And ask if glory hath enlarg'd the span; Here nearer suns prepare the ripening gem, If bright the prospect, we the grave defy, To grace great Anne's imperial diadem,

Trust future ages, and contented die. (come, And here the ore, whose melted mass shall yield When strangers from far distant climes shall On faithful coins each memorable field,

To view the pomp of this triumphant dome, Which, mix'd with medals of immortal Rome, Where rear'd alost disembled trophies ftand, May dear disputes, and teach the times to come. And breathing labours of the sculptor's hand,

In circling beams Thall godlike Anna glow, Where Kneller's art shall paint the flying Gaul, And Churchill's sword hang o'er the proftrate foe; And Bourbon's woes shall fill the story'd wall; In comcly wounds shall bleeding worthies stand, Heirs of thy blood shall o'er their bounteous board Webb's firm platoon, and Lumley's faithful band, Fix Europe's guard, thy monumental sword, Bold Mordaunt in Iberian trophies dreit,

Banners that oft have wav'd on conquer'd walls, And Campbeli's dragon on his dauntless brealt, And trumpe, that drown'd the groans of gasping Great Ormond's deeds on Vigo's spois enrollid,

Gauls. And Guiscard's knife on Harley's Chili gold. Fair dames shall oft, with curious eye, explore And if the muse, O Bristol, might decree,

The costly robes that slaughter'd generals wore, Here Granville noted by the lyre ihould be, Rich trappings from the Danube's whirpools The lyre for Granville, and the cross for thee,

brough, Such are the honours grateful Britain pays ; (Hesperian nuns the gorgeous broidery wrought, So patriots merit, and lo monarchs praise.

Belts stiff with gold, the Boian horseman's pride, O'er distant times such records fhall prevail, And Gaul's fair flowers, in human crimson dy'd) When English numbers, antiquated, fail :

Of Churchill's race, perhaps, some lovely boy A trifiog long the muse can only yield,

Shall mark the burnith'd steel that hangs on And footh her soldiers panting from the field.

high, To sweet retirements see them safe convey'd, Shall gaze transported on its glittering charms, And raile their battles in the rural shade,

And reach it struggling with unequal arms, From fields of death to Woodlock's peaceful By signs the drum's tumultuous sound request, glooms,

Then seck, in starts, the hushing mother's breaft. (The poet's haunt) Britannia's hero comes

So, in the painter's animated frame, Begin, ny muse, and softly touch the string : Where Mars embraces the foft Paphian dame, Here Henry lov'd; and Chaucer learn'd to fing. The little loves in sport his fauchion wield, Hail, fabled grotto : hail, Elysian foil!

Or join their strength to heave his ponderous Thou faireft spot of fair Britannia's ille !

shield : Where kings of old, conceal'd, forgot the throne, One strokes the plume in Tityon's gore embrued, And beauty was content to shine unknown ; And one the spear, that reeks with Typhon's blood: Where love and war by turns pavillions rear, Another's infant brows the helm sustain, And Henry's bowers pear Blenheim's dome ap He nods his crest, and frights the shrieking train. pear;

Thus, the rude tempest of the field o'erblown, The weary'd champion Jull in soft alcoves, Shall whiter rounds of smiling years roll on, The noblest boast of thy romantic groves.

Our victors, blest in peace, forget their wars, Oft, is the mufe prelage, thall he be seen

Enjoy past dangers, and absolve the stars. By Rofamonda feeling o'er the green,

But, oh! what forrows shall bedew your urns, In dreams be hail'd by heroes' mighty shades, Ye honour'd hades, whom widow'd Albion mourns! And hear old Chaucer warble through the glades, If your thin forms yet discontented moan, O'er the fam'd echoing vaults his name hall And haunt the mangled manfions, once your own! bound,

Behold what flowers the pious muses flrow, And hill on hill refled the favourite sound. And tears which in the midst of triumph flow;

Here, here at lealt thy love for arms give o'er, Cypress and bays your envy'd brows surround, Nor, one world conquer'd, fondly wish for more. Your names the tender matrons heart thall Vice of great souls alone! 0.thirst of fame!

wound, The musc admires it, while the Atrives to blame. And the soft maid grow pensive at the sound.

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