II. Parent of arms! for ever ftand With large increase of fame rever'd, Aufonia's weeping states to free, III. I Britannia! fix'd on foreign wars, Guiltlefs of civil rage extend thy name : The waves of utmoft ocean, and the stars, Are bounds but equal to thy fovereign's fame. With deeper wrath thy victor lion roars, Wide o'er the fubject world diffufing fear, Whilft Gallia weeps her guilt, and peace implores ; So Earth, transfix'd by fierce Minerva's fpear, A gentler birth obedient did disclose; And fudden from the wound eternal olives rofe. I. When with establish'd freedom blefs'd, The globe to great Alcides bow'd, Whofe happy power reliev'd th' opprefs'd Receiv'd him to their bright abodes: Where Where Hebe crown'd his blooming joys; II. For Albion's Chief, ye facred Nine ! III. And, Woodstock, let his dome exalt thy fame, Great o'er thy Norman ruins be restor❜d; Thou that with pride doft* Edward's cradle claim, Whilft every column to record their toils Eternal monuments of conqueft wears, And all thy walls are drefs'd with mingled fpoils, High on thy tower the grateful flag display, Due to thy Queen's reward, and Blenheim's glorious day. The Black Prince. FLORE FLORE LI O. A PASTORA L. Lamenting the Death of the late MARQUIS OF BLANDFORD. ASK not the caufe why all the tuneful fwains, Who us'd to fill the vales with tender strains, In deep defpair neglect the warbling reed, Afk not why greens and flowers fo late appear To cloath the glebe, and deck the springing year; Why founds the lawn with loud laments and cries, And is the grief, who was the grace, of every British swain. And Philomel by night repeats her woe. Or Or foftly tune thy tender notes to mine, And is the grief, who was the grace, of every British swain. But now, ye ftreams, affift me whilft I mourn, Let Ye breezes, bear the plaintive accent on, And, whispering, tell the woods Florelio's gone. And is the grief, who was the grace, of every British fwain. But now thofe lips are cold; relentless death Hath chill'd their charms, and ftopt thy balmy breath. And thou, dear youth, haft left the lonely plain, The fhepherd yet so young, and once so gay! The nymphs that fwim the ftream, and range the wood, And haunt the flowery meads, around him stood. There tears down each fair cheek unbounded fell, And, as he gasp'd, they gave a fad farewel. Softly, they cry'd, as fleeping flowers are clos'd By night, be thy dear eyes by death compos'd: A gentle fall may thy young beauties have, And golden flumbers wait thee in the grave: Yearly thy hearse with garlands we'll adorn, And teach young nightingales for thee to mourn; Bees love the blooms, the flocks the bladed grain, Nor lefs wert thou belov'd by every fwain. Come, fhepherds, come, perform the funeral due For he was ever good and kind to you: On every finoothest beech, in every grove, In weeping characters record your love. And as in memory of Adonis flain, When for the youth the Syrian maids complain His river, to record the guilty day, With freshly bleeding purple ftains the sea a |