Befides, he gave five hundred pound To Fielding his own fcribe, Who was his bail; one friend he found, He ow'd him to the bribe. But for this horrid murder vile None did him prosecute; His old friend help'd him o'er the stile: With France, fair England's mortal foe, Had any other done 't, I trow That he did likewife traiterously, Vaft quantities of ftores did he Of the king's ftores he kept a key, The forfeited estates alfo, Both real and perfonal, Did with the stores together go, Fierce Cerberus fwallow'd all. Mean while the foldiers figh'd and fobb'd, For not one fouse had they; His Excellence had each man fobb'd, For he had funk their pay. Nero, Nero, without the least disguise, Still favour'd, and their robberies Look'd on as trivial crimes. The Proteftants whom they did rob Were forc'd with patience, like good Job, To reft themselves content. For he did bafely them refuse The Romans ftill he well did use, Still fcreen'd their roguery. Succinctly thus to you I 've told, How this Viceroy did reign; The Beft of Queens he hath revil'd, Forgetful of the favours kind But liften, Nero, lend thy ears, As ftill thou haft them on; Hear what Britannia fays with tears, Of Anna dead and gone. "Oh! "Oh! facred be her memory, "For ever dear her name ! "Bleft be my fons, and eke all those "All princes, kings, and potentates, "All nations, provinces, and ftates, 66 Sought Anna for their friend. “In Anna they did all confide, "For Anna they could truft: "Truth, mercy, justice, did furround "She held the fword and balance right, "In clemency fhe did delight, “Her reign not stain’d with blood. "Her gracious goodness, piety, "In all her deeds did fhine, “ And bounteous was her charity; "All attributes divine. "Confum "Confummate wisdom, meekness all, "Adorn'd the words fhe spoke; "When they from her fair lips did fall; "And sweet her lovely look. "Ten thousand glorious deeds to crown, "She caus'd dire war to cease: "A greater Emprefs ne'er was known, "This laft and godlike act atchiev'd, "Commemorate, my fons, the day "Keep it for ever and for aye, “And annual be your mirth!” Illuftrious George now fills the throne, Who can his wondrous deeds make known? Thee, favourite Nero, he has deign'd To raise to high degree! Well thou thy honours hast sustain'd, Well vouch'd thy ancestry. But But pafs Thefe honours on thee laid, Can they e'er make thee white? Don't Gaphny's blood, which thou haft shed, Thy guilty foul affright? Oh! is there not, grim mortal, tell, Places of blifs and woe? Oh! is there not a heaven, a hell; Can nought change thy obdurate mind? Wilt thou for ever rail? The prophet on thee well refin'd, How thou art loft to fenfe and fhame, Thy conduct all just men do blame, Libera nos, Domine! Dame Juftice waits thee, well I ween, Nought can thee from her vengeance screen, Heavy her ire will fall on thee, She cuts off the impure. To her I leave thee, gloomy peer! SONGS, |