One glory shed, a brighter is display'd,

And the charm'd Muses shelter in the shade.
O how I long, enkindled by the theme,
In deep eternity to launch thy name!

Thy name in view, no rights of verse I plead,
But what chaste Truth endites old Time shall read.
"Behold! a man of ancient faith and blood,
"Which soon beat high for arts and public good;
"Whose glory great, but natural, appears,
"The genuine growth of services and years;
"No sudden exhalation drawn on high,

And fondly guilt by partial majesty ;

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"One bearing greatest toils with greatest ease; "One born to serve us, and yet born to please; "Whom, while our rights in equal scales he lays, "The prince may trust, and yet the people praise; "His genius ardent, yet his judgment clear, "His tongue is flowing, and his heart sincere ; "His counsel guides, his temper cheers our isle, "And smiling, gives three kingdoms cause to smile." Joy then to Britain, bless'd with such a son; To Walpole joy! by whom the prize is won; Who, nobly conscious, meets the smiles of Fate; True greatness lies in daring to be great.

Let dastard souls in affectation, run

To shades, nor were bright honours fairly won;
Such men prefer, misled by false applause,
The pride of modesty to Virtue's cause.

* Knight of the Bath, and then of the Garter.

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Honours which make the face of Virtue fair,
'Tis great to merit, and 'tis wise to wear;
'Tis holding up the prize to publick view,
Confirms grown virtue, and inflames the new;
Heightens the lustre of our age and clime,
And sheds rich seeds of worth for future time.
Proud chiefs, alone in fields of slaughter fam'd,
Of old this azure bloom of glory claim'd;
As when stern Ajax pour'd a purple flood,
The violet rose, fair daughter of his blood.
Now rival Wisdom dares the wreath divide
And both Minervas rise in equal pride,
Proclaiming loud a monarch fills the throne
Who shines illustrious not in wars alone.
Let fame look lovely in Britannia's eyes;
They coldly court desert who fame despise:
For what's ambition but fair Virtue's sail ?

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And what applause but her propitious gale?
When, swell'd with that, she fleets before the wind
To glorious aims, as to the port design'd;
When chain'd without it, to the lab'ring oar,
She toils! she pants! nor gains the flying shore;
From her sublime pursuits, or turn'd aside
By blasts of Envy or by Fortune's tide;
For one that has succeeded ten are lost,
Of equal talents, ere they make the coast.

Then let Renown to worth divine incite
With all her beams, but throw those beams aright.
Volume IV.

R

130

Then Merit droops, and Genius downwards tends,
When godlike Glory, like our land descends,
Custom the Garter long confin'd to few,
And gave to birth exalted yirtue's due:
Walpole has thrown the proud enclosure down,
And high Desert embraces fair Renown.
Tho' rivall'd, let the peerage smiling see
(Smiling in justice to their own decree)
This proud reward of majesty bestow'd

On worth like that whence first the peerage flow'd.
From frowns of Fate Britannia's bliss to guard,
Let subjects merit, and let kings reward.
Gods are most gods by giving to excel,

And kings most like them by rewarding well.

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Tho' strong the twanging nerve, and, drawn aright, Short is the winged arrow's upward flight;

But if an eagle it transfix on high,

Lodg'd in the wound it soars into the sky.

Thus while I sing thee with unequal lays,

And wound, perhaps, that worth I mean to praise, Yet I transcend myself, I rise in fame,

Not lifted by my genius, but my theme.

No more; for in this dread suspense of Fate Now kingdoms fluctuate, and in dark debate Weigh peace and war, now Europe's eyes are bent On mighty Brunswick for the great event; Brunswick! of kings the terror or defence! Who dares detain thee at a world's expence?

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Ye guardian Gods! who wait on kings,
And gently touch the secret springs
Of rising thought, solicit, I beseech,
For a poor stranger come from far;
Procure a suppliant traveller

Ease of access, and the soft hour of speech.

11.

'Tis gain'd. Hail, Monarch, great and wise!
From distant climes and dusky skies,

O'er seas and lands I flew, your ear to claim:
Yours is the sun and purple vine ;

Deep in the frozen North I pine;

Nor vine nor sun could warm me like my theme.

Young]

Rij

HOR.

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111.

A theme how great! on yonder tide
A leafless forest spreading wide,

The labour of the deep, my Muse surveys
A Fleet whose empire o'er the wave
You grant time strengthens, Nature gave,
Now big with death, the terror of the seas!

IV.

Ye great by Sea! ye Shades ador'd!
Who fir'd the bomb and bath'd the sword,
Arise! arise! arise! 'tis Britain charms;
Arise, ye boast of former wars!

And, pointing to your glorious scars,
Rouse me to verse, your martial sons to arms,

Vi.

'Tis done and see! sweet Clio brings

From heav'n her deep-resounding strings:

*

Clio! the god which gave thy charming shell,
Demands its most exalted strain

To sing the sov'reign of the main :

Of Ocean's queen what wonders wilt thou tell?

.VI.

Such wonders as may pass for sport,

Or vision in a southern court:

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But, mighty Throdes! those truths which make me

Your fathers saw, your sons shall see;

Then quit your infidelity.

Some truths 'tis better to believe than know.

[glow

* Neptune.