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Say, joyful Maese, and Boyne's victorious flood, To my adventurous song just witness bear,
(For each has mixt his waves with royal blood) Assist the pious Muse, and hear her swear,
When William's armies past, did he retire, That 'tis no poet's thought, no flight of youth,
Or view from far the battle's distant fire ?

But solid story, and severest truth,
Could he believe his person was too dear?

That William treasures up a greater naine, Or use his greatness to conceal his fear?.

Than any country, any age, can boast:
Could prayers or : "hs the dauntless hero move ? And all that ancient stock of fame
Arm'd with Heaven's justice, and his people's love,

He did from his fore-fathers take,
Through the first waves he wing'd his venturous He has improv'd and gives with interest back;

And on the adverse shore arose, (way, And in his constellation does unite
(Ten thousand tiying deaths in vain oppose). Their scatter'd rays of fainter light:
Like the great ruler of the day,

Above or Envy's lash, or Fortune's wheel, With strength and swiftness mounting from the That settled glory shall for ever dwell:

Above the rolling orbs, and common sky, Like him all day he toil'd; but long in night Where nothing comes that e'er shall die. The god has eas'd his wearied light,

Where roves the Muse? Where, thoughtless to reEre vengeance left the stubborn foes,

Is her short-liv'd vessel borne, Or William's labours found repose !


By potent winds too subject to be tost,
When his troops faulter'd, stept not he between?

And in the sea of William's praises lost?
Restor'd the dubious fight again,
Mark'd out the coward that durst fly,

Nor let her tempt that doep, nor make the shore,

Where our abandon'd youth she sees, And led the fainting brave to Victory?

Shipwreck'd in luxury, and lost in case; Still as she fled him, did he not o'ertake

Whom nor Britannia's danger can alarm, Her doubtful course, still brought her bleeding

Nor William's exemplary virtue warm : back?

Tell them, howe'er, the king can yet forgive By his keen sword did not the boldest fall ?

Their guilty sloth, their homage yet receive, Was he not king, commander, soldier, all ?

And let their wounded honour live: His dangers such as, with becoming dread,

But sure and sudden be their just remorse; His subjects yet unborn shall weep to read :

Swift be their virtue's rise, and strong its course ; And were not those the only days that e'er

For though for certain years and destin'd times, The pious prince refus'd to hear

Merit has lain confus'd with crimes; His friends' advices, or bis subjects' prayer?

Though Jove seem'd negligent of human cares, Where'er old Rhine his fruitful water turns,

Nor scourg'd our follies, nor return'd our prayers, Or fills his vassals' tributary urns ;

His justice now demands the equal scales, To Belgia's sav'd dominions, and the sea,

Sedition is suppress'd, and truth prevails : Whose righted waves rejoice in William's sway;

Fate its great en.!s by slow degrees attains, Is there a town where children are not taught,

And Europe is redeem'd, and William reigns Here Holland prosper'd, for bere Orange fought; Through rapid waters, and through flying fire, Here rush'd the prince, here made whole France

By different nations be his valour blest, (retire?

In different languages confest;
And then let Shannon speak the rest :

AND INTENDED TO BE SUNG BEFORE THEIR NAJESTIES Let Shannon speak, how on her wondering shore,

When Conquest hovering on his arms did wait,
And only ask'd some lives to bribe her o'er; Light of the world, and ruler of the year,
The god-like man, the more than conqueror, With happy speed begin thy great carcer;
With high contempt sent back the specious bait; And, as thou dost thy radiant journies run,
And, scorning glory at a price too great,

Through every distant climate own
With so much power, such piety did join,

That in fair Albion thou hast seen
As made a perfect virtue soar

The greatest prince, the brightest queen,
A pitch unknown to man before ;

That ever say'd a land, or blest a throne, And lifted Shannon's waves o'er those of Boyne. Since first thy beams were spread, or genial powet

was known.
Nor do his subjects only share

So may thy godhead be confest,
The prosperous fruits of his indulgent reign;
His enemies approve the pious war,

So the returning Year be blest,

As his infant Months bestow Which, with their weapon, takes away their chain.

Springing wreaths for William's brow; More than his sword his goodness strikes his foes;

As his Summer's youth shall shed They bless his arms, and sigh they must oppose.

Eternal sweets around Maria's head. Justice and freedom on his conquists wait;

From the blessings they bestow, And 'tis for man's delight that he is great :

Our times are dated, and our eras move : Succeeding times shall with long joy contend,

They govern and enlighten all below, If he were more a victor, or a friend :

As thou dost all above. So much his courage and bis mercy strive,

Let our hero in the war He wounds, to cure; and conquers, to forgive.

Active and fierce, like thee, appear: Ye beroes, that hare fought your country's cause, Like thee, great son of Jove, like thee Redress'd her injuries, or form'd her laws,

When, clad in rising majesty,


THE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS.. LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. 139 Thou marchest down o'er Delos' hill confest, And, on the surface of the deep, With all thy arrows arm'd, in all thy glory drest. The winds lay only not asleep: Like thee, the hero does his arms employ,

The nymph did like the scene appear, The raging Python to destroy,

Serenely pleasant, calmly fair: And give the injur'd nations peace and joy. Soft fell her words, as few the air. From fairest Years, and Time's more happy stores, That she would never miss one day

With secret joy I heard her say, Gather all the smiling Hours;

A walk so fine, a sight so gay. Such as with friendly care have guarded

But, oh the change! the winds grow high ; Patriots and kings in rightful war3 ;

Impending tempests charge the sky;
Such as with conquest have rewarded
Triumphant victors' happy cares;

The lightning flies, the thunder roars,

And big waves lash the frighten'd shores. Such as story has recorded

Struck with the horrour of the sight, Sacred to Nassau's long renown,

She turns her head, and wings her flight: For countries sav'd, and battles won.

And, trembling, vows she'll ne'er again March them again in fair array,

Approach the shore, or view the main. And bid them form the happy day,

“ Once more, at least, look back," said }, The happy day, design'd to wait

* Thyself in that large glass descry : On William's fame, and Europe's fate.

When thou art in good-humour drest; Let the happy day be crown'd

When gentle reason rules thy breast; With great event, and fair success;

The Sun upon the calmest sea No brighter in the year be found,

Appears not half so bright as thee : But that which brings the victor home in peace.

'Tis then that with delight I rove

Upon the boundless depth of Love: Again thy godhead'we implore,

I bless my chain; I hand my oar; Great in wisdom as in power ;

Nor think on all I left on shore. Again, for good Maria's sake, and ours,

“ But when vain doubt and groundless fear Choose out other smiling Hours;

Do that dear foolish bosom tear; Such as with joyous wings have fled,

When the big lip and watery eye When happy counsels were advising;

Tell me, the rising storm is nigh; Such as bave lucky omens shed

'Tis then, thou art yon' angry main, O'er forming laws, and empires rising;

Deform’d by winds, and dash'd by raia ; Such as many courses ran,

And the poor sailor, that must try Hand in hand, a goodly train,

Its fury, labours less than I. To bless the great Eliza's reign;

Shipwreck'd, in vain to land I make, And in the typic glory show

While Love and Fate still drive me back: What fuller bliss Maria shall bestow.

Forc'd to doat on thee thy own way, As the solemn Ilours advance,

I chile thee first, and then obey. Mingled send into the dance

Wretched when from thee, vex'd when nigh,
Many fraught with all the treasures,

I with thee, or without thee, die.”'
Which thy eastern travel views;
Many wing'd with all the pleasures,

Man can ask, or Heaven diffuse:
That great Maria all those joys may know,

Which, from her cares, upon her subjects flow.
For thy own glory sing our sovereign's praise,
God of verses and of days :

BY MRS. ELIZABETH SINGER, AFTERWARDS ROWL Let all thy tuneful sons adorn

Their lasting work with William's name; Let chosen Muses, yet unborn,

While from the skies the ruddy Sun descends, Take great Maria for their future theme:

And rising night the evening shade exten is;
Eternal structures let them raise
On William's and Maria's praise :

While pearly dews o'erspread the fruitful field, Nor want new subject for the song,

And closing Howers reviving odours yield:

Let us, beneath these spreading trees, recite Vor fear they can exhaust the store,

What from our hearts our Muses may in:lite. Till Nature's music lies unstrung;

Nor need we, in this close retirement, fear, Till thou, great god, shalt lose thy double power,

Lest any swain our ainorous secrets hear. And touch thy lyre, and shoot thy beains no more.

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Celia and I, the other day,
Walkd o'er the sand-hills to the sea :
The setting Sun adorn'd the coast,
His beans entire, his fierceness lost;

To every shepherd I would mine proclahın;
Since fair Aminta is my softest theme:
A stranger to the loose delights of Love,
My thoughts the noblerwarmth of Friendship prore;
And, while its pure and sacred fire I sing,
Chaste goldess of the groves, thy succour bring.


Propitious god of love, my breast inspire With all thy charms, with all thy pleasing fire;



Propitious god of love, thy succour bring, May every god his friendly aid afford,
Whilst I thy darling, thy Alexis sing;

Pan guard thy flock, and Ceres bless thy board! Alexis, as the opening blossoms fair,

But if, by chance, the series of thy joys Lovely as light, and soft as yielding air.

Permit one thought less cheerful to arise,
For him each virgin sighs; and, on the plains, Piteous transfer it to the mournful swain,
The happy youth above each rival reigns.

Who, loving much, who, not belov'd again,
Nor to the echoing groves, and whispering spring, Feels an ill-fated passion's last excess,
In sweeter strains, does artful Conon sing;

And dies in woe, that thou may’st live in peace.
When loud applauses fill the crowded groves,
And Phæbus the superior song approves,

70 A LADÝ. Beauteous Aminta is as early light, Breaking the melancholy shades of night.

SHE REFUSING TO CONTINUE A DISPUTE WITH ME, AND When she is near, all anxious trouble flies,

And our reviving hearts confess her eyes.

Young love, and blooming joy, and gay desires,
In every breast the beauteous nymph inspires ;

Spare, generous victor, spare the slave,
And on the plain when she no more appears,

Who did uneq. al war pursue;. The plain a dark and gloomy prospect wears.

That more than triumph he might have, In vain the streams roll on : the eastern breeze

In being overcome by you. Dances in vain among the trembling trees :

In the dispute, whate'er I said, In vain the birils begin their evening song,

My heart was by my tongue belied ; And to the silent night their notes prolong: And in my looks you might have read Nor groves, nor crystal streams, nor verdant field, How much I argued on your side. Does wonted pleasure in her absence yield.

You, far from danger as from fear,

Might have sustain'd an open fight; And, in his absence, all the pensive day,

For seldom your opinions crt; In some obscure retreat, I lonely stray;

Your eyes are always in the right. All day to the repeating caves complain,

Why, fair one, would you not rely In mourn'ul accents and a dying strain :

On Reason's force with Beauty's join'd? Dear lovely youth,” I cry to all around;

Could I their prevalence deny, Dear lovely youth,” the flattering vales resound. I must at once be deaf and blind.

Alas! not hoping to subdue,

I only to the fight aspird: On flowery banks, by every murmuring stream,

To keep the beautevus foe in view Aminta is my Muse's softest theme: 'Tis she that does my artful notes resine ;

Was all the glory I desir'd.

(shine. With fair Aminta's name my noblest verse shall

But she, howe'er of victory sure,

Contemns the wreath too long delay'd;

And, arm'd with more immediate power, I'll twine fresh garlands for Alexis' brows,

Calls cruel Silence to her aid. And consecrate to him eternal vows :

Deeper to wound, she shuns the fight; The charming youth shall my Apollo prove;

She drops her arms, to gain the field;
He shall adorn my songs, and tune my voice to love. Secures her conquest by her flight;

And triumphs, when she seeins to yield.
So, when the Parthiap turn'd his stecd,

And from the hostile camp withdrew,

With cruet skill the backward reed

He sent; and, as he fled, he slew.
By Sylvia, if thy charming self be meant;
If friendship be thy virgin vows extent :
Oh! let me in Aminta's praises join :
Her's my esteem shall be, my passion thine.
When for thy head the garland I prepare,

THE DUKE OF ORMOND'S PICTURE A second wreath shall bind Aminta's hair;

And, when my choicest songs thy worth proclaim,
Alternate verse shall bless Aminta's name;

Out from the injur'd canvass, Kneller, strike My heart shall own the justice of her cause, These lines too faint: the picture is not like, And Love himself submit to Friendship's laws. Exalt thy thought, and try thy toil again:

But if, beneath thy numbers' soft disguise, Dreadful in arins, on Landen's glorious plain Some favonr'd swain, some true Alexis lies; Place Ormond's duke: impendent in the air If Amaryllis breathes thy secret pains,

Let his keen sa bre, comet-like, appear, And thy fond heart beats measure to thy strains; Where'er it points, denouncing death: below May'st thou, howe'er I grieve, for ever find Draw routed squadrons, and the numerous foe, The flarne propitious, and the lover kind!

Falling beneath, or flying from his blow: May Venus long exert her happy power,

Till, weak with wounds, and cover'd o'er with blood, And make thy beauty, like thy verse, endure! Which from the patriot's breast in torrents flow'd,





He faints; his steed no longer feels the rein; Mov'd by my charms, with them your love may But stumbles o'er the heap, his hand had slain. And, as the fuel sinks, the dame decrease: (cease, And now exhausted, bleeding, pale he lies; Or angry Heaven may quickcr darts prepare, Lovely, sad object!' in his half-clos'd eyes

And Sickness strike what Time a while would spare. Stern vengeance yet, and hostile terrour, stand : Then will my swain his glowing vous renew; His front yet threatens, and his frowns command. Then will his throbbing heart to mine beat true ; The Gallic chiefs their troops around him call; When iny own face deters me from my glass, Fear to approach him, though they see him fall.- And Kneller only shows what Celia was?

O Kneller! could thy shades and lights express Fantastic Fame may sound her wild alarms; The perfect hero in that glorious dress;

Your country, as you think, may want your arms. Ages to come might Ormond's picture know, You may neglect, or quench, or hate the flame, And palms for thee beneath his laurels grow: Whose smoke too long obscur'd your rising name; In spite of Time, thy work might ever shine; And quickly cold indifference will ensue, Nor Homer's colours last so long as thine.

When you Love's joys through Honour's optic view.

Then Celia's loudest prayer will prove too weak,
To this abandon'd breast to bring you back;

When my lost lover the tall ship ascends,

With music gay, and wet with jovial friends,

The tender accent of a woman's cry Atque in amore mala hæc proprio, summéque se

Will pass unheard, will unregarded die; cundo Inveniuntur.

Lucret. lib. iv.

When the rough seamen's louder shouts prevail,

When fair occasion shows the springing gale, WHAT

Hat can I say, what arguments can prove And Interest guides the helm, and Honour swells the My truth, what colours can describe my love,

sail. If its excess and fury be not known,

Some wretched lines, from this neglected hand, In what my Celia has already done?

May find my hero on the foreign strand, Thy infant fames, while yet they were conceald | Warm with new fires, and pleas’d with new comIn timorous doubts, with pity I beheld;

mand : With easy smiles dispelld the silent fear,

While she who wrote them, of all joy bereft, That durst not tell me what I dy'd to hear.

To the rude censure of the world is left; In vain I strore to check my growing flame, Her mangled fame in barbarous pastime lost, Or shelter passion under Friendship's name, The coxcomb's novel, and the drunkard's toast. You saw my heart, how it my tongue bely'd ;

But nearer care (0 pardon it!) supplies And when you press'd, how faintly I deny'd. - Sighs to my breast, and sorrow to my eyes.

Ere guardian Thought could bring its scatter'd aid, Love, Love himself (the only friend I have) Ere Reason could support the doubting maid, May scorn his triumph, having bound his slava My soul, surpris'd, and from herself disjoin'd, That tyrant-god, that restless conqueror, Left all reserve, and all the sex, behind:

May quit his pleasure, may assert his power; From your command her motions she receip'd; Forsake the provinces that bless his sway, And not for me, but you, she breath'd and liv'd. To vanquish those which will not yet obey. But ever blest be Cytherea's shrine,

Another nymph with fatal power may rise, And fires eternal on her altars shine!

To damp the sinking beains o Celia's eyes ; Since thy dear breast has felt an equal wound; With haughty pride may hear her charms confest, Since in thy kindness my desires are crown'd. And scorn the ardent vows that I have blest. By thy each look, and thought, and care, 'tis shown, You every night may sigh for her in vain, Thy joys are center'd all in me alone;

And rise each morning to soine fresh disdain: And sure I am, thou wouldst not change this hour While Celia's softest look may cease to charın, For all the white ones Fate has in its power. --

And her embraces want the power to warm : Yet thus belov'd, thus loving to excess,

While these fond arins, thus circling you, may Yet thus receiving and returning bliss,

prove In this great moment, in this golden now,

More heavy chains than those of hopeless love. When every trace of what, or when, or how,

Just gods! all other things their like produce; Should from my soul by raging love be torn,

The Vine arises from her mother's juice: And far on swelling seas of rapture borne;

When feeble plants or tender flowers decay, A melancholy tear afficts my eye,

They to their seed their images convey: And my heart labours with a sudden sigh:

Where the old Myrtle her good influence sheds, Jorading fears repel my coward joy,

Sprigs of like leaf erect their filial heads: And ills, foreseen, the present bliss destroy. And when the parent Rose decays and dies,

Poor as it is, this beauty was the cause, With a resembling face the daughter buds arise. That with first sighs your panting bosoin rose : That product only which our passions bear But with no owner Beauty long will stay,

Eludes the planter's miserable care. Upon the wings of Time borne swift away; While blooming Love assures us golden fruit, Pass but some Meeting years, and these poor eyes Some inborn poison taints the secret root: (Where now, without a boast, some lustre lies) Soon fall the flowers of Joy, soon seeds of Hatred No longer shall their little honours keep;

shoot. Shall only be of use to read or weep :

Say, shepherd, say, are these reflections true?
And on this forehead, where, your verse has said, Or was it but the woman's fear that drew
" The Loves delighted, and the Graces play'd,” This cruel scene, unjust to love and you?
Insulting Age will trace his cruel way,

Will you be only and for ever mine?
And leave sad marks of his destructive sway. Shall neither time nor age our souls disjoin?

From this dear bosom shall I ne'er be torn? Fair Albion shall, with faithful trust,
Or you grow cold, respectful, and forsworn?

Her holy queen's sad relies guard,
And can you not for her you love do more

Till Heaven awakes the precious dust,
Than any youth for any nymph before ?

And gives the saint her full reward.
But let the king dismiss his woes,

Reflecting on his fair renown;

And take the cypress from his brows,

To put his wonted laurels on. $POKEN BY LORD BUCKHURST, IN WESTMINSTER

If prest by grief oar monarch stoops,

In vain the British lions roar:

If he, whose hand sustain'd them, droops,
AT A REPRESENTATION OF MR. DRYDEX'S CLEOMENES, The Belgic darts will wound no more.

Embattled princes wait the chief, Pisu, Lord, I wish this prologue was but Greek,

Whose voice should rule, whose arm should lead; Then young Cleonidas would boldly speak;

And, in kind murmurs, chide that grief, But can lord Buckhurst in poor English say,

Which hinders Europe being freed. Gentle spectators, pray excuse the play?

The great example they demand No, witness all ye gods of ancient Greece,

Who still to conquest led the way ;
Rather than condescend to terins like these, Wishing him present to command,
'I'd go to school six hours on Christmas-day,

As they stand ready to obey.
Or construe Persius while my comrades play.
Such work by hireling actors should be done,

They seek that joy, which us'd to glow,
Who tremble when they see a critic frown;

Expanded on the hero's face ;
Poor rogues, that smart like fencers for their bread, When the thick squadrons prest the foe,
And, if they are not wounded, are not fed.

And William led the glorious chase.
But, sirs, our labour bas more noble ends,

To give the mourning nations joy, We act our tragedy to see our friends:

Restore them thy auspicious light, Our generous scenes are for pure love repeated, Great Sun : with radiant beams destroy And if you are not pleas'd, at least you're treated. Those clouds, which keep thee from our sight The candles and the clothes ourselves we bought,

Let thy sublime meridian course Our tops neglected, and our balls forgot.

For Mary's setting rays atone : To lerm our parts, we left our midnight bed,

Our lustre, with redoubled force,
Most of you snor'd whilst Cleomenes read:

Must now proceed from thee alone.
Not that from this confusion we would sue
Praise undeserred; we know ourselves and you :

See, pious king, with different strife
Resolv'd to stand or perish by our cause,

Thy struggling Albion's bosom torn: We neither censure fear, nor beg applause,

So much she fears for William's life,
For these are Westminster and Sparta's laws.

That Mary's fate she dares not mourn
Yet, if we see some judgment well inclin'd, Her beauty, in thy softer half
To young desert, and growing virtue kind,

Bury'd and lost, she ought to grieve;
That critic by ten thousand marks should know, But let her strength in thee be safe;
That greatest souls to goodness only bow;

And let her weep; but let her live. And that your little hero does inherit

Thou, guardian angel, save the land
Not Cleomenes' more than Dorset's spirit.

From thy own grief, her fiercest foe;
Lest Britain, rescued by thy hand,

Should bend and sink beneath thy woe
AN ODE, PRESENTED TO THE KING, Her former triumphs all are vain,

Unless new trophies still be sought,

And hoary majesty sustain

The battles which thy youth has fought.
Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus

Where now is all that fearful love, Tam cari capitis ? præcipe lugubres

Which made her hate the war's alarins Cantus, Melpomene.

That soft excess, with which she strove

To keep her hero in her arms ? Ar Mary's tomb (sad sacred place !)

While still she chid the coming Spring, The Virtues shall their vigils keep:

Which call'd him o'er his subject seas : And every Muse, and every Grace,

While, for the safety of the king, In solema state shall ever weep.

She wish'd the victor's glory less. The future pious, mournful fair,

'Tis chang'd; 'tis gone: sad Britain now Oft as the rolling vears return,

Hastens her lord to foreign wars: With fragrant wreaths and Aouing hair,

Happy, if toils may break his woe, Shall visit her distinguish'd urn.

Or danger may divert his cares. For her the wise and great shall mourn,

In martial din she drowns her sighs, When late records her deeds repeat:

Lest he the rising grief should hears Ages to come, and men unborn,

She pulls her helmet o'er her eyes, Shall bless her name, and sigh her fate.

Lest he should sce the falling teak.

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