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POEMS.

PART I.

Smit with the love of sacred song
I feed on thoughts that voluntary move
Harmonious numbers, as the wakeful bird
Sits darkling, and in shadiest covert hid
Tunes her nocturnal note.

Milton.

Me quoque Musarum studium sub nocte silenti
Artibus assuetis solicitare solet.

NATURE:

Claudian.

A POEM OCCASIONED BY SEEING THE PALACE AND PARK OF
DALKEITH, ANNO MDCCXXXII.

Ego laudo ruris amœnæ

Rivos, et musco circumlita saxa, nemusque.

Virg.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

THE EARL OF DALKEITH,

ELDEST SON TO

HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUGH,

THIS ESSAY IS MOST HUMBLY INSCRIBED,

NATURE.

A POEM.

Quo me musa rapis tuæ

BY THE AUTHOR.

Plenum quæ in nemora, aut quos agor in specus,
Velox mente nova? *******

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On a green bank the beauteous fabric stands,
And the subjected stream with pride commands.
What tho' no lofty domes project in air,
Or lengthen'd colonnades with pomp appear;
Yet is the whole in simple state design'd,
Plain and majestic, like her mighty mind;
From Gothic ruin, and obscure disgrace,
Who rais'd the slumb'ring genius of the place,
And fix'd the mansion of her future race.
Within collected, all the beauties lie
That art can form, or foreign lands supply:
Here the fair pillar rears its polish'd height,
And with its harmony detains the sight;
There the great works the master pencil drew
Start from the walls, and swell to meet the view!
How just each stroke! how soft each flowing line
In every piece, what strong perfections shine!
I ask, whence light and shade such pow'r derive,
And think the animated figures live!
Thro' ev'ry part, delighted, as I stray,
New beauties catch me, and retard my way.
Now India's rich grotesques, with vivid dyes,
In gay confusion play before my eyes;
And the bright labours of the artful loom,
With painted grace, embellish every room:
While shining mirrors, with a silver gleam,
Reflect the hanging trees and winding stream:
But all so rang'd, so elegantly plac'd,
As shows the cost inferior to the taste.

Proud of the treasures it conceal'd within,
So have I, unadorn'd, a casket seen,
Which, open'd, did surprising wealth unfold,
India's bright gems, and bright Peruvian gold.

Preserv'd by time, here beauty seems to breathe,
And mocks the spite of age, and darts of Death;
Renew'd by Lely's, or by Kneller's hand,
Angelic forms! the British charmers stand!
And such the force of life-resembling art,
Still touch the soul, and triumph o'er the heart.
There plac'd on high the royal youth ap-
pears,

Whose early fate demands the Muse's tears;
Beneath the chief the generous courser rears,
And seems transported with the weight he bears:
How sweet his look, how gallant is his air!
Warlike as Mars, and as Adonis fair!
But doom'd, alas, by destiny, to prove
Ambition's victim, and the slave of love!
With all the gifts adorn'd that man could boast,
His opening virtues just display'd, and lost.

Shall Windsor's groves when all their bloom is lost, Lost in eternal night his rising fame,

In sacred verse unfading verdure boast?
Shall Cooper's Hill, for ever dear to fame,
Preserve its honours lasting as its name?
And shall oblivion still a scene conceal?
That yields to neither, were it known as well.

But how shall words the varied plan disclose,
Like native life, what faint resemblance glows!
Yet would the Muse, enamour'd of her theme,
As pleas'd she roves on Esca's mazy stream,
The blooming wonders that surround her sing,
And touch once more the long unpractis'd string.
Nor thou illustrious prince! whom Heaven ordains
Lord of these groves, and all the neighb'ring swains
Disdain the verse,-but mild the Muse receive,
And to her rural notes attention give,
That faithful would th' united charms repeat,
Which art and nature lend thy princely seat.

Clasp'd in the arms of two surrounding floods,
Compass'd with gentle hills and rising woods,
VOL. XIV.

And not a Muse to vindicate his name;
Heroic Monmouth! could my feeble lay
Thy early dawn of excellence display;
With sacred laurels should thy temples shine,
And yield a slender wreath to shelter mine.

So does the Sun his orient beams display,
And gives the promise of a smiling day;
When e'er he reach his fair meridian height,
Opposing clouds conceal him from our sight;
Till lost in darkness to his fall he bends,
And veil'd in night his mournful progress ends.
But see what beauties bless th' adjacent ground,
What wild romantic prospects rise around!
In silence here, unrival'd Nature reigns,
Blooms in the wood, and smiles along the plains;
With all her native charms allures the heart,
And far disdains the mimic force of art.

Here when Aurora with her crimson dyes
Proclaims the day, and stains the blushing skies;

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While the bright dew bespangles all the plain,
And soft the wakeful lark renews her strain;
On some fair bank, where circling waters play,
The placid scene attentive I survey;

While round my head the balmy zephyrs breathe,
And the clear stream in murmurs flow beneath :
From these my passions gently learn to move,
And leave my soul compos'd to peace and love.
'Tis hot-and Phoebus shines intensely bright;
The dark recesses of the wood invite:
Where ancient oaks their sacred branches spread,
And court the wand'rer to the solemn shade;
With conscious awe I view the gloom around,
And softly tread along the peaceful ground.
There the steep precipice, with craggy brow,
Hangs o'er the deep, and forms an arch below!
Scarce the lost eye perceives the winding flood,
From woods that rises,-and is lost in wood.
With noise unheard it rolls its crystal waves,
And faintly glitters thro the quiv'ring leaves:
While distant hills a varied prospect yield,
And golden harvests float along the field.

The deer now seek the shelter of the grove,
Or thro' the forest unmolested rove:
Some lie repos'd, while others careless stray,
And their young sportive fawns around them play.
How happy they, who here enjoy, at ease,
Nature's first blessings, liberty and peace!

Touch'd with her plaintive woe, to her alone
I listen, and conceive her griefs my own.
From grateful toil repos'd, I gently rest;
And all, unmix'd, the sweets of nature taste:
Sweets that for ever please, but never cloy,
And fill the virtuous mind with constant joy!

Nature, thou pow'r divinely fair and young,
Like the Great Being from whose word thou sprung!
Unwearied still, the blessings I explore,
Which o'er the earth thy hands incessant pour :
And while I view thy works with fond delight,
Wealth and ambition vanish from my sight:
I lothe the giddy pleasures of the town;
I long to taste thy purer joys alone;

I court the gloom, and sigh to be unknown!
With envious eyes behold the shepherd's lot,
In shades who dwells contented, tho' forgot;
And wish the bliss, from noise and business free,
To live in silence-and converse with thee!

Beneath the shade of Windsor's lofty grove,
On silver Thames, as Eaton's Muses rove;
Nor do the Nine on Esca's bank disdain
To choose a shelter, and renew their strain:
While these fair scenes to learned ease invite,
And heighten contemplation to delight!
Within this bless'd retreat the British youth
Are taught the love of virtue, and of truth:
And from the patterns of preceding days,

While wretched man, the slave of hopes and fears, Learn by just merit to arrive at praise:
Thro' life sustains a train of endless cares.

Round the fair park the guardian rivers glide ',
Now seem to meet, and now their arms divide:
Like some coy nymph the southern Naiade plays,
And thro' the meads and groves forgetful strays;
With wanton grace she bathes her flow'ry shores,
And each new object seems to change her course:
But like some vigorous lover, fond and young,
The northern water swiftly rolls along;
Thro' rocks and woods precipitates his pace,
And seizes unobserv'd the secret place,
From whence he rushes to the nymph's embrace:
Swell'd with his prize he proudly cuts the plain,
And flows exulting to his parent main.

Close by the wid'ning river's verdant side
See lovely Smeaton rise with rural pride?!
As waits some favourite Grace on beauty's queen,
At distance so the charming bow'r is seen;
Pomona here her endless treasures pours,
And Flora smiles along the flow'ry shores!
Here greatness, wearied with its rooms of state,
Finds oft the secret charms of a retreat;
Within the soft recess reclines its head,
And feels the calmness of the peaceful shade.
The length'ning shadows, and the cooler air,
The soft approach of evening now declare.
In a fair vale, that courts the setting Sun,
I end the pleasures that the day begun.
Before my eye a rising grove appears;
The purling waters sooth my ravish'd ears;
The warbling birds their tuneful songs repeat,
And the sad turtle murmurs for her mate:

The park is surrounded by the two rivers of North and South Esk, which meet at the lower end of it, and fall together into the sea at Musselburgh.

2 A beautiful retreat built at the extremity of the park, below the confluence of the two rivers, and surrounded with fine gardens; to which his Grace has lately added considerable improvements

From ancient heroes catch the noble fire,
Inflam'd, to practise what they first admire;
While healthful exercise the mind unbends,
And health and study serve each other's ends:
I view the happy school,-and thence presage
The fair succession of a rising age.

And now descending from her short-liv'd height,
Th' advent'rous Muse restrains her further flight:
Reluctant, closes the unequal strain,

And leaves with lingering steps the lovely plain;
Pleas'd, that the beauties of a place so fair
Have first, tho' faintly, been describ'd by her.
Her humbler numbers if the critics blame,
Before they censure, let them view her theme:
Where nothing nice or regular has part,
But all is nature, undisguis'd with art.

LOVE AND MAJESTY.

VERSES WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1718.

Non bene conveniunt, nec in una sede morantur
Majestas et amor-

OF passions widely different and extreme,
Sing, Muse, regardless of the critic's blame,
Love and ambition be the daring theme.
In lights distinct the jarring natures show,
And how united fatally they glow.

How can ambition fire the soften'd soul,
Where love enervating enjoys the whole?
How can the pride of arbitrary sway
Quit all its boasted glories to obey?
Can empire deign to stoop so meanly down,
And beauty trample on the sov'reign crown?

Ovid.

And yet will love no pow'r superior bear, Robb'd of distinction, all are equals there! There all agree to quit the shows of state, Princes are slaves, and kings no longer great;

And while unrivall'd beauty bears the sway,
Ev'n tyrants stoop, and conquerors obey!

How many by this fatal strife have fell,
In every age historic records tell,

How many heroes here have met their doom?
This lost great Antony the world of Rome.
'T was this the memorable union ty'd,
Between the Trojan prince and Spartan bride;
For which the God's tremendous rage came down,
And laid in ruins Troy's devoted town:
This fatal shining meteor led astray
The hapless steps of long lamented Gray;
Who chose the lot her judgment disapprov'd,
And only reign'd, because too much she lov'd;
For her eternal shall the Muses mourn,
And bathe with tears the Royal Martyr's urn.
'Twas this that sully'd gallant Mahomet's name,
And robb'd the sultan of his peace and fame:
Here let the Muse an awful instance prove,
How ill ambition shares the throne with love.
Of the illustrious line of Osman born,
Long had he royalty with honour worn;
His growing empire stretch'd from shore to shore,
Where ne'er the silver crescent shone before.
And now from war returning with applause,
(The sure attendant of a prosperous cause!)
To fair Irene's charms he falls a prey,
And throws for love his majesty away!
New passions now his alter'd mind employ,
And fill his bosom with tumultuous joy!
Now with alluring arts he sooths the fair,
His fame forgot, and all the pomp of war;
Each day consum'd in languishing delight,
In pleasing riot spent each happy night!
While still new joys in soft succession move,
And lost in ease, he gives a loose to love!

While thus entranc'd in the delusive scene,
The fond enamour'd prince forgets to reign;
His murm'ring slaves against his life conspire,
The loose militia catch the factious fire;
Loudly the hardy janisars complain,
And tax his pleasures in the boldest strain:
Too late he sees the gath'ring storm appear,
And trembling love first bids the hero fear!
Too late he finds himself involv'd in woe,
He scorns to fly, yet dreads to meet the blow;
Now calls to mind his former triumphs won,
And blushing sees how first his love begun ;
Now weeping beauty rises to his sight,
And puts each stern resolve at once to flight:
While by a thousand struggling passions tost,
He eyes the port, and sighs for safety lost!

Irene now in all her charms appear'd,
And the bright vision all his bosom cheer'd;
So breaks the Sun a moment through the cloud,
Whose gath'ring shades again his lustre shroud,
And darkly brooding o'er th' affrighted skies,
The thunder grumbles and the light'ning flies;
Straight with wild looks, and eyes that fiercely roll,
Which well bespoke the tempest of his soul,
He seiz'd the trembling fair-and by the hand
He led her blushing to the great divan,
Where every eye her faultless form ador'd,
And half absolv'd the weakness of their lord;
There while with deep attention mix'd with dread,
All waited the event!- -The sultan said,

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Regard the beauties of this matchless dame, And cease, ye abject slaves! your lord to blame! If I have err'd, such beauty is the cause, And who so savage not to own its laws?

Yet still himself, your lord, superior knows,
Nor once forgets the source from whence he rose ;
Since then Irene's charms have caus'd your hate
She falls, by me, a victim to the state.-————___”
So said: his shining scymetar display'd,
Full on her snowy neck discharg'd he laid;
Her trembling lips yet murmur'd as they fell,
And seem'd to bid her cruel lord-farewell!

The dreadful task perform'd:-again in arms,
With wasting war the nations he alarms;
There mourns his fatal sacrifice in gore,
Resolv'd to conquer,-but to love no more!

THE FORCE OF LOVE.

A PASTORAL ESSAY.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1722.

Multa putans, animoque sortem miseratus iniquam.

Virg.

WHERE Kelvin's winding streams in murmurs play,
And through the meads to join fair Glotta stray;
Beneath the covert of a spreading shade,
In pensive mood a comely youth was laid;
Fix'd on the ground his down-cast eyes were seen
The only mourner on the flow'ry green!
At random o'er the wide extended mead,
His flock regardless of their master stray'd;
The cheerful birds through the surrounding groves,
In gladsome notes, proclaim'd their vernal loves!
While the sad swain no joy, no pleasure knew,
From what inspir'd their songs, his sorrows grew;
And love that bid their tuneful measures flow,
Love, cruel love had caus'd the shepherd's woe;
'T was thus extended on the flow'ry ground,
His alter'd friend the young Alexis found;
With kindly greeting he accosts the swain,
And thus inquires the reason of his pain.

ALEXIS.

If well known friendship on my side can plead,
Or strong entreaty can thy soul persuade;
To me be just, and to thyself be kind,
And tell the trouble that distracts thy mind;
Long has some secret anguish hurt thy rest,
And like a canker fester'd in thy breast;
Long hast thou left thy pipe and blithsome song,
Thy fellow-shepherds and the rural throng;
Who mourn thy change, and while they share thy
Inquire the motives, but inquire in vain ;
Though hid the cause, its sad effects are seen,
In the wan face, and melancholy mien;
In vain to lonely wilds Menalcas goes,
And seeks in silence to suppress his woes!
His flock neglected, once his fav'rite care,
His silent reed too well those woes declare;
Then tell, my friend, if I mistaken prove,
This wond'rous change is all, The Force of Love.

MENALCAS.

Beside me, dear Alexis! take a seat,
And hear thy poor Menalcas' hapless fate!
From thee, alas! what sorrows can he hide?
Too well the fatal passion has he try'd !-
Careless I once presum'd to slight its pow'r,
Glad was each morn, and joyful every hour;
Free and unfetter'd as the wanton air,

[pain,

I pass'd my time, nor knew a thought of care;

But oh! too well has Love reveng'd his cause,
And taught my heart to own his injur'd laws;
Well has the cruel boy perform'd his part,
And pour'd out all his venom through my heart;
From fatal beauty, oh my friend, remove,
And learn by me to dread The Force of Love.

ALEXIS.

Proceed, my dear Menalcas! to relate,
The sad occasion that brought on thy fate;
And name the fair, whose coldness, or disdain,
Thus fills thy eyes with tears, thy breast with pain?

MENALCAS.

Hear then, Alexis, what I scarce can tell, So much reflection bids my sorrows swell: Well may'st thou mind the day on Glasgow green, The fair assembly of our nymphs was seen; The beauteous throng indifferent I survey'd, And through the crowd, as chance directed, stray'd; Secure beheld Corinna's piercing eye, And pass'd Melissa's air unheeded by ; Careless I wander'd-all devoid of fear, But ob, the fatal rashness cost me dear! For lovely Flora, on that luckless day, Soon made my heart a weak unguarded prey; Such was her smiling look, her easy grace, And all the charms that revel in her face! Thoughtless I rush'd into the pleasing snare, Nor dreamt that mischief could appear so fair; Then first my soul this new emotion found, And felt the symptoms of its recent wound; I gaz'd in transport while the maid was nigh, But when she left me-what a wretch grew I? Soon as the beauteous shepherdess was gone, I felt, but all too late, I was undone ! In vain amidst the silence of the grove, I thought in solitude to vanquish love; In vain the strongest aid of reason try'd, To overcome the passion--or to hide; Till urg'd at last by the distracting grief, I from the nymph herself implor'd relief; More deaf than rocks, or the tempestuous main, Unmov'd she heard my passion and my pain; All I could urge, her cruel heart to move, She said she pity'd-but deny'd me Love.

ALEXIS.

I mourn, my friend, a passion so sincere
Should meet returns so distant, so severe;
Hard! that a nymph, who can such graces show,
Should thus refuse to mitigate thy woe;
Then rise, my friend, and break the servile chain,
Assert thy reason, and be free again!

For sooner may'st thou hope the winds to move,
As fix inconstant Flora's heart to Love.

MENALCAS.

Ah! no-in vain I strive my fate to fly,
By Flora's rigour must Menalcas die!
Yet to the fair, let no false charge be laid,
Since dying I should wrong her, to upbraid;
What fault can taint such sweetly blooming youth?
All there is innocence and native truth!
What crime in her she cannot ease my pains,
Or smile on him whom destiny disdains?
But oh, her coldness hangs upon my heart,
And strikes a fatal damp through every part!
The deadly chilness seizes every vein,
Ev'n life itself gives way to her disdain!

Adien ye lawns! and every neighb'ring grove,
Each conscious witness of despairing love;
Ye rocks! whose echos did my sighs repeat;
Ye streams, so oft increas'd by my regret;
Adieu ye flocks! your master's fond delight,
His charge by day, his tender care by night;
Some happier swain shall lead you o'er the green,
When lost Menalcas shall no more be seen!
Stung with the rage of unremitting pains;
In vain to woods or waves the wretch complains,
In vain around these plains I hopeless rove,
No cure can heal the cruel Force of Love.

ALEXIS.

Great is the grief, Menalcas, I sustain,
To see thee thus, nor can relieve thy pain!
O could my prayers the scornful virgin move,
Soon should she meet thy vows with equal love!
For well, my friend, I know Love's pow'rful dart,
And feel its force-a stranger to the smart;
Nor long did I its worst of pains endure,
The hand that gave the wound bestow'd the cure:
Soon as I could my secret grief impart,
Emilia, stranger to her sex's art!
Serenely smiling bid my anguish cease,

And yielding sooth'd my troubled soul to peace!
Long have we mutual felt the faithful flame,
Our minds united, and our vows the same!
Yet fate, whose rage no mortal can disarm,
Detains her, still forbid my longing arm;
Constrain'd in flatt'ring hope the time to pass,
Till Heav'n shall give her to my foud embrace!
Thus of our lot, impatient we complain
Of fortune, I; and thou of cold disdain.
Belov'd and loving, yet debarr'd the bliss
So much I prize, so ardently I wish,

I feel the strong emotions of a mind,
Engag'd by fondness, and by fate disjoin'd!
While from successless love thy torment flows,
And cruel beauty causes all thy woes!
O could I touch that too relentless heart,
That thus refuses to relieve thy smart?
But useless here my slender skill would prove,
Since verse itself is but the slave of love;
In vain would tuneful numbers bar its course,
Since tuneful numbers but augment its force;
'T is reason only can restore thy peace,
Can only bid the struggling passions cease;
Alone, can all thy griefs and pains remove,
And triumph o'er the boasted Force of Love!

MENALCAS.

In vain the wisest arguments I use,
Still where I fly, my evil fate pursues;
No more-these unavailing tears forbear,
Menalcas' only refuge is despair!

In vain I strive to act a manly part,
And drive the lurking poison from my heart;
Still with her image is my soul possess'd,

Still, still, she triumphs in my bleeding breast,
There, there, with arbitrary sway she reigns,
Beats in each nerve, and burns through all my
With force superior I no more contest, [veins!
No more I fondly hope for distant rest;
I go-compell'd by Fate's uncommon rage,
In savage wilds my passion to asswage;
To distant lands by Fiora's scoru I fly,
By Flora's scorn in distant lands to die!
Adieu, once more ye meads, ye groves, ve plains,
Ye streams, ye birds, ye flocks, ye friendly swains!

And thou, Alexis, shepherd most belov'd,
Whose faith and tenderness so oft I 've prov'd,
Receive the highest wish I can bestow,
The pains I suffer--may'st thou never know!
Still may thy joys each circling year increase,
With beauty bless'd, and crown'd with lasting peace!
Still in my grateful mind thy name shall live,
Possess'd of all the love I've left to give ;
Nor yet this slender pipe refuse to take,
Nor slight the present for Menalcas' sake!
For useless now the science I decline,
Music has charms for calmer souls than mine!
Adieu! for destiny forbids my stay,

And loudly calls this ling'ring wretch away;
O Love! thou tyrant god! in deserts bred,
In savage wastes by wolves and tygers fed,
By thee tormented, from mankind I rove,
What can resist thy rage, relentless Love!

ALEXIS.

Forbear, Menalcas, nor with this excess
Of grief, yourself increase your own distress;
Once more let friendship, and let reason move,
And aid you to subdue the Force of Love.

MENALCAS.

If chance shall guide you to the fatal place,
Where Flora does the bright assembly grace;
Oh tell the maid!-her lost, adoring swain,
Menalcas, begs her pardon to obtain !
Tell her if pity should her bosom touch,
That pity for his fate is not-too much!
Tell her he bless'd her with his parting breath,
In absence loves her, loves her ev'n in death!
For only death the rooted flame can move,
And end the tyrannizing Force of Love.

He said and straight the swain confus'd arose,
For now declining day began to close;
And as along the path the shepherds came,
Which gently winded with the winding stream;
Alexis kindly sought, but sought in vain,
To find some balm to sooth Menalcas' pain;
But he no comfort from his counsels found,
Still were his thoughts in sullen silence drown'd;
And now with easy steps approaching home,
They to their rural cottages were come;
When rising grief did poor Menalcas swell,
Dissolv'd in tears he bids his friend-farewell!

Then turning cry'd,- "No art can passion move,
These endless pains must I for ever prove,
And yield a victim to the Force of Love!"

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VERSES

OCCASIONED BY SEEING THE PICTURE OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, IN THE ROYAL GALLERY OF THE PALACE OF HOlyrood-house, Edinburgh, 1732.

Regnum poteras hoc ore mereri !
Quæ proprior sceptris facies? quis diguior aulâ
Vultus? non labra rosæ, non colla pruinæ,
Non crines æquant viole, non lumina flammæ!
Claudian.

BEHOLD, Spectator, here a form design'd,
To charm all hearts, and captivate mankind!
See that majestic mien, that matchless face,
What awful beauty mix'd with easy grace!
Mark, from those eyes what lambent glories play,
Pierce through the gloom, and form surrounding
day!

So look'd Maria, when, to gain her love,
Contending kings with fond ambition strove ;
When factions strove to own her sov reign pow',
All the fond contest, who should first adore!
When cloyster'd zealots left the temple waste,
And crowds stood fix'd to see her as she past,
Through fair Lutetia's streets with regal state,
While every look dispens'd resistless fate;
Nor rank, nor age was from the danger free,
And only those were safe,-who could not see.

Majestic shade !-forgive th' enamour'd Muse, Who while thy sufferings, and thy form she views, In sorrow lost, deplores thy cruel fate; Wretched as fair, unfortunate as great! How strong, mistaken bigots, was that rage Which neither charms, nor virtues could assuage? Which with unwearied insolence pursu'd Thy sacred life, and thirsted for thy blood! First drove thee on the rocks thou sought to shun, Then blam'd thee for the ills themselves had done; With frequent malice all thy steps survey'd, By turns deceiv'd, deserted, or betray'd; To thee, fair queen! the sacred rights of kings, Ev'n youth and innocence were helpless things: By factious hands expell'd thy lawful throne, Pursu'd, revil'd, imprison'd, and undone! Till fore'd to screen thy persecuted head, Thou to thy greatest foe for safety fled; By whom, all hospitable ties forgot, (Her celebrated reign's eternal blot!) The kindred bands of majesty and blood, New woes inflicted must increase thy load; Confin'd, for years on years, a heavy train, While Heav'n look'd down, and princes su'd in vain; Doom'd unremitting griefs to undergo, And shine a pattern of imperial woe;

Till to fulfil thy unexampled fate,

Thy life was lost to fix thy rival's state,

And satisfy Eliza's endless hate.

How shall the weeping Muse, with equal lay,
Reveal the horrours of that cursed day,
When barefac'd murder, open and display'd,
Aim'd all its vengeance at thy sacred head,
And, in thy fate, thy great successor bled '!

Sad Muse, proceed, and view the lovely queen,
With undiminish'd charms, and air serene!
Alone, unaided, with intrepid heart,
And native eloquence, her rights assert;

1 King Charles L

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