Pure from deceit, devoid of fear and strife, While love was all the pensive care of life, The swains in green retreats, with flowrets crown'd, Taught the young groves their passion to resound: Fancy pursued the paths where Beauty led, To please the living, or deplore the dead : While to their warbled woe the rocks reply'd, The rills remurmur'd, and the zephyrs sigh’d; From death redeem'd by verse, the vanish'd fair Breath'd in a flower, or sparkled in a star. Bright as the stars, and fragrant as the flowers, Where Spring resides in soft Elysian bowers ; While these the bow’rs adorn, and they the sphere, Will Sacharissa's charms in song appear. Yet, in the present age, her radiant name Must take a dimmer interval of fame; When you to full meridian lustre rise, With Morton's shape and Gloriana's eyes, With Carlisle's wit, her gesture, and her mien, And, like seraphic Rich, with zeal serene ; In sweet assemblage all their graces join'd To language, mode, and manners, more refin'd! That angel-frame, with chaste attraction gay, Mild as the dove-ey'd Morn awakes the May: Of noblest youths will reign the public care, Their joy, their wish, their wonder, and despair. Far-beaming thence what bright ideas flow! The sister-arts with sudden rapture glow: Her Titian tints the Painter nymph resumes; The canvass warm with roseate beauty blooms: Inspir'd with life by Sculpture's happy toil, The marble breathes, and softens with your smile! Proud to receive the form, by fate design'd The fairest model of the fairer kind.



But hear, O hear the Muse's lieavenly voice!
The waving woods and echoing vales rejoice:
Attend, ye Gales! to Margaretta's praise,
And all ye listening Loves record the lays!
So Philomela charms the' Idalian grove,
When Venus, in the glowing orb of love,
O’er ocean, earth, and air, extends her reign,
The first, the brightest, of the starry train.

What favourite youth assign the Fates to rise,
In bridal pomp to lead the blooming prize?
Whether his father's garter'd shield sustains
Trophies achieved on Gallia's viny plains,
Or smiling Peace a mingled wreath displays,
The patriot's olive, and the poet's bays:
Adorn, ye Fates! the favourite youth assign'd,
With each ennobling grace of form and mind:
In merit make him great, as great in blood;
Great without pride, and amiably good :
His breast the guardian ark of heav'n-born law,
To strike a faithless age with conscious awe:
In choice of friends by manly reason sway'd;
Not fear'd, but honour'd, and with love obey'd.
In courts and camps, in council ard retreat,
Wise, brave, and studious to support the state;
With candour firm ; without ambition bold,
No deed discolour'd with the guilt of gold;
That Heav'n may judge the choicest blessings due,
And give the various good compris'd in you.






Escaped in the Road at St. Andero.

Now had his Highness bid farewell to Spain,
And reach'd the sphere of his own pow'r, the main;
With British bounty in his ship he feasts
The' Hesperian princes, his amazed guests,
To find that wat'ry wilderness exceed
The entertainment of their great Madrid.
Healths to both kings, attended with the roar
Of cannons, echoed from the affrighted shore,
With load resemblance of his thunder, prove
Bacchus the seed of cloud-compelling Jove;
While to his harp divine Arion sings
The loves and conquests of our Albion kings.

Of the Fourth Edward was his noble song,
Fierce, goodly, valiant, beautiful, and young:
He rent the crown from vanquish'd Henry's head,
Rais'd the White Rose, and trampled on the Red :
Till love, triumphing o'er the victor's pride,
Brought Mars and Warwick to the conquer'd side :
Neglected Warwick (whose bold hand, like Fate,
Gives and resumes the sceptre of our state)
Woos for his master; and with double shame,
Himself deluded, mocks the princely dame,

The lady Bona whom just anger burns,
And foreign war with civil rage returns.
Ah! spare your swords, where beauty is to blame;
Love gave the affront, and must repair the same :
France shall boast of her, whose conquering

Have made the best of English hearts their prize;
Have pow'r to alter the decrees of Fate,
And change again the counsels of our state.

What the prophetic Muse intends, alone
To him that feels the secret wound is known.

With the sweet sound of this harmonious lay,
About the keel delighted dolphins play,
Too sure a sign of sea's ensuing rage,
Which must anon this royal troop engage;
To whom soft sleep seems more secure and sweet,
Within the town commanded by our fleet.

These mighty peers plac'd in the gilded barge, Proud with the burden of so brave a charge, With painted oars the youths begin to sweep Neptune's smooth face, and cleave the yielding

deep; Which soon becomes the seat of sudden war Between the wind and tide that fiercely jar. As when a sort of lusty shepherds try Their force at foot-ball, care of victory Makes them salute so rudely breast to breast, That their encounter seems too rough for jest; They ply their feet, and still the restless ball, Toss'd to and fro, is urged by them all: So fares the doubtful barge 'twixt tide and winds, And like effect of their contention finds. Yet the bold Britons still securely row'd; Charles and his virtue was their sacred load;

Than which a greater pledge Heav'n could not give, That the good boat this tempest should outlive.

But storms increase, and now no hope of grace
Among them shines, save in the Prince's face;
The rest resign their courage, skill, and sight,
To danger, horror, and unwelcome night.
The gentle vessel, (wont with state and pride
On the smooth back of silver Thames to ride)
Wanders astonish'd in the angry main,
As Titan's car did, while the golden rein
Filld the young hand of his advent’rous son',
When the whole world an equal hazard run
To this of ours, the light of whose desire
Waves threaten now, as that was scar’d by fire.
The' impatient Sea grows impotent and raves,
That, Night assisting, his impetuous waves
Should find resistance from so light a thing;
These surges ruin, those our safety bring.
The' oppressed vessel doth the charge abide,
Oply because assail'd on every side:
So men with rage and passion set on fire,
Trembling for haste, impeach their mad desire.

The pale Iberians had expir'd with fear,
But that their wonder did divert their care,
To see the Prince with danger mov'd no more
Than with the pleasures of their court before:
Godlike his courage seem'd, whom nor delight
Could soften, nor the face of Death affright.
Next to the pow'r of making tempests cease,
Was in that storm to have so calm a peace.
Great Maro could no greater tempest feign,
When the loud winds usurping on the main

I Phaeton.

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