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Above, that sun should cease his way to go,
Ere William cease to rule, and bless below;

But a relentless destiny

Urges all that e'er was born:

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Snatched from her arms, Britannia once must mourn
The demi-god; the earthly half must die.

Yet if our incense can your wrath remove,
If human prayers avail on minds above;
Exert, great god, thy interest in the sky;
Gain each kind Power, each guardian Deity,
That conquered by the public vow,
They bear the dismal mischief far away.
O! long as utmost nature may allow,

Let them retard the threatened day!
Still be our master's life thy happy care;
Still let his blessings with his years increase.
To his laborious youth consumed in war,
Add lasting age, adorned and crowned with peace;
Let twisted olive bind those laurels fast,

Whose verdure must for ever last!
Long let this growing era bless his sway,
And let our sons his present rule obey:
On his sure virtue long let earth rely,
And late let the imperial eagle fly,

To bear the hero through his father's sky;
To Leda's twins, or he whose glorious speed,
On foot prevailed, or he who tamed the steed;
To Hercules, at length absolved by Fate
From earthly toil, and above envy great;
To Virgil's theme, bright Cytherea's son,
Sire of the Latian, and the British throne.
To all the radiant names above,
Revered by men, and dear to Jove.
Late, Janus, let the Nassau star,

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New-born, in rising majesty appear,

To triumph over vanquished night, And guide the prosperous mariner With everlasting beams of friendly light.

AN ODE.

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INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THE HONOURABLE COLONEL
GEORGE VILLIERS,1

DROWNED IN THE RIVER PIAVA, IN THE COUNTRY OF FRIULI, MDCCIII.
IN IMITATION OF HORACE, ODE 28, LIB. I.

Te maris et terræ numeroque carentis arenæ
Mensorem cohibent, Archyta, etc.

SAY, dearest Villiers, poor departed friend
(Since fleeting life thus suddenly must end)
Say, what did all thy busy hopes avail,
That anxious thou from pole to pole didst sail;
Ere on thy chin the springing beard began
To spread a doubtful down, and promise man!
What profited thy thoughts, and toils, and cares,
In vigour more confirmed, and riper years!
To wake ere morning dawn to loud alarms,
And march till close of night in heavy arms;
To scorn the summer's suns and winter's snows,
And search through every clime thy country's foes!
That thou mightst Fortune to thy side engage;
That gentle Peace might quell Bellona's rage;
And Anna's bounty crown her soldier's hoary age?
In vain we think that free-willed man has
To hasten or protract the appointed hour.
Our term of life depends not on our deed:
Before our birth our funeral was decreed.
Nor awed by foresight, nor misled by chance,

power

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1 Colonel George Villiers was in the marine service. When this catastrophe happened to him he was accompanied by William Courtenay, Esq., son of Sir William Courtenay, a captain in his regiment, who shared the same fate.

Imperious Death directs his ebon lance;

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Peoples great Henry's tombs, and leads up Holbein's dance.

Alike must every state, and every age

Sustain the universal tyrant's rage;

For neither William's power, nor Mary's charms,
Could, or repel, or pacify his arms.

Young Churchill1 fell, as life began to bloom:
And Bradford's 2 trembling age expects the tomb.
Wisdom and eloquence in vain would plead
One moment's respite for the learned head:
Judges of writings and of men have died,
Mæcenas, Sackville, Socrates, and Hyde;
And in their various turns their sons must tread
Those gloomy journeys which their sires have led.
The ancient sage, who did so long maintain,
That bodies die, but souls return again,
With all the births and deaths he had in store,
Went out Pythagoras, and came no more.
And modern Asgyll, whose capricious thought
Is yet with stores of wilder notions fraught,
Too soon convinced, shall yield that fleeting breath,
Which played so idly with the darts of death.

Some from the stranded vessel force their way;
Fearful of Fate, they meet it in the sea;
Some who escape the fury of the wave,
Sicken on earth, and sink into a grave:
In journeys or at home, in war or peace,
By hardships many, many fall by ease.

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1 John Churchill, Marquis of Blandford, only son of John, Duke of Marlborough by Sarah his duchess. He died 10th March, 1702, aged 16.Francis Newport, Earl of Bradford. He died 19th September, 1708.— John Asgyll, Esq., a lawyer of some eminence, but more remarkable for the very extraordinary publication here alluded to, on the Future Life.' He was a member of the English Parliament for Bramber in Sussex. He died within the rules of the King's Bench, on the 10th of November 1738, when he was considerably above fourscore years of age.

Each changing season does its poison bring,
Rheums chill the winter, agues blast the spring:
Wet, dry, cold, hot, at the appointed hour,
All act subservient to the tyrant's power;
And when obedient nature knows his will,
A fly, a grapestone, or a hair can kill.

For restless Proserpine for ever treads
In paths unseen, o'er our devoted heads,
And on the spacious land, and liquid main,
Spreads slow disease, or darts afflictive pain;
Variety of deaths confirm her endless reign.

On curst Piava's banks the goddess stood,
Showed her dire warrant to the rising flood;

When what I long must love, and long must mourn,
With fatal speed was urging his return;
In his dear country to disperse his care,
And arm himself by rest for future war;
To chide his anxious friends' officious fears,
And promise to their joys his elder years.

Oh! destined head; and oh! severe decree,
Nor native country thou, nor friend shalt see;
Nor war hast thou to wage, nor year to come,
Impending death is thine, and instant doom.

Hark! the imperious goddess is obeyed: Winds murmur, snows descend, and waters spread: Oh! kinsman, friend-Oh! vain are all the cries. Of human voice; strong destiny replies: Weep you on earth, for he shall sleep below: Thence none return, and thither all must go. Whoe'er thou art, whom choice or business leads To this sad river, or the neighbouring meads; If thou mayst happen on the dreary shores To find the object which this verse deplores, Cleanse the pale corpse with a religious hand

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From the polluting weed and common sand;
Lay the dead hero graceful in a grave,
(The only honour he can now receive)
And fragrant mould upon his body throw,
And plant the warrior-laurel o'er his brow:
Light lie the earth; and flourish green the bough.
So may just Heaven secure thy future life
From foreign dangers, and domestic strife!
And when the infernal judge's dismal power
From the dark urn shall throw thy destined hour;
When yielding to the sentence, breathless thou
And pale shalt lie, as what thou buriest now;
May some kind friend the piteous object see,
And equal rites perform to that which once was thee.

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PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN AT COURT BEFORE THE QUEEN, ON HER MAJESTY'S

BIRTHDAY, MDCCIV.

SHINE forth, ye planets, with distinguished light,
As when ye hallowed first this happy night;
Again transmit your friendly beams to earth,
As when Britannia joyed for Anna's birth;
And thou, propitious star, whose sacred power
Presided o'er the monarch's natal hour,
Thy radiant voyages for ever run,
Yielding to none but Cynthia, and the Sun;
With thy fair aspect still illustrate Heaven!
Kindly preserve what thou hast greatly given;
Thy influence for thy Anna we implore;
Prolong one life, and Britain asks no more!
For Virtue can no ampler power express,
Than to be great in war, and good in peace;

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