Permit the mufe, in no feductive strains,
From rural fhades and fummer-fmiling plains,
To speak the wifh that fires each gen'rous breast,
Of joy the founder, and of love the test.

Ere yet bright Phoebus gilds the ruddy east,
To floth a stranger, and a foe to reft,
Why does the swain, with unremitting toil,
Guide the sharp plough-fhare thro' the yielding foil?
Why does his nervous frame each shock defy,
And dare the rigour of th' inclement fky;
Ere yet confirm'd the doubtful fpring is feen,
And the chill blaft fweeps o'er the dewy green?
Does not his eye in future fcene behold
The spacious fields enrich'd with waving gold?
Does not the blissful hope infpire his breaft,
Of rifing barns with plenteous harvest press'd?
Swift to his view in gay fucceffion rise,

The bright productions of autumnal skies.
Deck'd in their richest dress the plains appear,

And all the glories of the ripen'd year.

'Tis thus, great Sir, with hopes like thefe poffefs'd,

(Each fond emotion kindling in her breast)

Has Britain view'd her prince with anxious eyes,

And joy'd to fee each genuine virtue rife,
From tend'reft infancy to childhood brought,
She bade each grace inform the rising thought:
More vig'rous grown, fhe hail'd the blooming fhoot,
And the rich promife of the riper fruit,

But now matur'd fhe fees her profpect rife,
Beneath the genial warmth of British skies.
Sees the long course of gen'rous culture paft,
And hopes the harvest of her toils at last:
To future glories lifts her dazzl'd view,
And bids thofe future glories reft on You,

Nor vain her hopes-for fure, if aught can charm
The human foul; if gen'rous thought can warm

The

The youthful breast, and bid each virtue there
Sprout forth redundant to th'enlivening air,
"Tis Publick Love! by nobleft deeds exprefs'd!
The god-like tenant of the hero's breast!

By this infpir'd, each ancient chief of fame
Gain'd the vaft honour of a deathless name;
By this upheld, amidst her patriot-band,
What fplendid triumphs grac'd the Argive land!
By this Imperial Rome was taught to rife,
And Eastern grandeur fhone in Latian skies.
Beneath this fun, emerging to the day,
Each glory fhining with redoubl'd ray,
Majestick Britain rofe-Hail, native land!
Strong to fubdue, and skilful to command.
No hoftile force shall shake thy ftedfast base,
Nor fecret guile thy well-form'd plans deface ;
While thine own fons, by publick virtue fir'd,
By glory charm'd, by liberty infpir'd,
Stand forth thy guardians, nations league in vain,
Britain fhall fway the trident of the main ;
And wond'ring foes, in deep conviction, see
The force of British unanimity.

Be this, O George! be this thy nobleft aim;
By this afcent pursue the heights of fame!

Princes, like Heav'n, fhould wide around dispense
The rich profufion of benevolence.

Great in their people's love, and wisely just,

The best depofits of the nobleft trust.

While, by each virtue rais'd, each grace refin'd,

Bv Heav'n advanc'd, they prove what Heav'n defign'd,
The rulers and the faviours of mankind.

Thus, when by hoary age and toil opprefs'd,

Your gracious Sire fhall feek immortal rest;
When, call'd by Heav'n, he joyfully lays down

A temp'ral circlet for an endless crown;

}

Your

Your virtues then shall Britain's lofs fupply,
And bid affliction dry the ftreaming eye :
Brunswick again shall grace Britannia's throne,
Great in paternal fame, and spotless in his own!

THE PROGRESS OF POETRY,

BY MRS. MADAN.

Vitis ut arboribus decori eft, ut vitibus uvæ;
Ut gregibus tauri, fegetes ut pinguibus arvis;
Tu decus omne tuis.

UN

NEQUAL, how fhall I the fearch begin, Or paint with artless hand the awful scene? Thro' paths divine with steps adventurous tread, And trace the mufes to their fountain-head?

Ye facred Nine, your mighty aid impart,
Affift my numbers, and enlarge my heart!
Direct my lyre, and tune each trembling firing,
While Poetry's exalted charms I fing;

How, free as air, her ftrains fpontaneous move,
Kindle to rage, or melt the foul to love:

How her first emanations dawn'd, disclose;

VIRG.

And where, great source of verfe! bright Phoebus first arose. Where nature warmth and genius has deny'd,r

In vain are art's ftiff languid powers apply'd.

Unforc'd the muses smile, above controul:

No art can tune the inharmonius foul.

Some rules, 'tis true, unerring, you may cull,
And void of life, be regularly dull;
Correctly flat may flow each studied rhime,
And each low period indolently chime.
A common ear, perhaps, or vulgar heart,
Such lays may please-the labour'd work of art!

Far

1

Far other strains delight the polish'd mind,
The ear well judging, and the tafte refin'd.
To blend in heavenly numbers ease and fire,
An Addison will afk, a Pope require:

Genius alone can force, like theirs, beftow,
As ftars, unconfcious of their brightnefs, glow.
Hail Greece! from whence the spark etherial came,
That wide o'er earth diffus'd it's facred flame;
There the firft laurel form'd a deathlefs fhade,
And fprung immortal for thy Homer's head.

There the great bard the rifing wonder wrought,

And plann'd the Iliad in his boundless thought;
By no mean fteps to full perfection grew,
But burst at once refulgent to the view.
Who can unmov'd the warm description read,
Where the wing'd fhaft repels the bounding fteed?
Where the torn fpoils of the rapacious war,
With fhocking pomp adorn the victor's car?
When, from fome hoftile arm difmifs'd, the reed
On the mark'd foe directs it's thirsty speed,
Such strength, fuch action, ftrikes our eager fight,
We view, and fhudder at it's fatal flight;
We hear the ftraighten'd yew recoiling ftart,
And fee thro' air glide fwift the whizzing dart!
When higher themes a bolder strain demand,
Life waits the poet's animating hand:
There, where majeftick, to the fanguin'd field,
Stern Ajax ftalks behind his feven-fold fhield;
Or where, in polifh'd arms feverely bright,
Pelides dreadful rushes to the fight;
With martial ardour breathes each kindling page

The direful havock and unbounded rage,

The clash of arms tumultuous from afar,

And all that fires the hero's foul to war!

Bold Pindar next, with matchlefs force and fire Divinely careless, wak'd the founding lyre,

Unbound

Unbound by rule, he urg'd each vigorous lay,
And gave his mighty genius room to play:
The Grecian games employ his daring ftrings,
In numbers rapid as the race he fings.

Mark, Mufe, the confcious fhade and vocal grove,
Where Sappho tun'd her melting voice to love,
While Echo each harmonious strain return'd,
And with the foft-complaining Lesbian mourn'd.
With roses crown'd, on flowers fupinely laid,
Anacreon next the fprightly lyre effay'd,
In light fantaftick meafures beat the ground,
Or dealt the mirth-infpiring juice around.
No care, no thought, the tuneful Teïan knew,
But mark'd with blifs each moment as it flew.

Behold the foil, where fmooth Clitumnus glides,
And rolls thro' fmiling fields his ductile tides;
Where fwoln Eridanus in ftate proceeds,
And tardy Mincio wanders thro' the meads;
Where breathing flowers ambrofial fweets diftil,
And the foft air with balmy fragrance fill.
O Italy! tho' joyful plenty reigns,"
And Nature laughs amid thy bloomy plains;
Tho' all thy fhades poetick warmth inspire,
Tune the rapt foul, and fan the facred fire;
Those plains and fhades fhall reach th' appointed date,
And all their fading honours yield to fate:
Thy wide renown, and ever-blooming fame,
Stand on the basis of a nobler claim;
In thee his harp immortal Virgil ftrung,
Of fhepherds, flocks, and mighty heroes fung.
See Horace, fhaded by the lyrick wreathe,
and all the muses breathe;

Where every grace
Where courtly ease adorns each happy line,
And Pindar's fire and Sappho's foftness join.
Politely wife, with calm well-govern'd rage,
He lafh'd the reigning follies of the age;

With