XXVI.

The common voice uprose of warblers small, Upon this wife, "O bleffed be the hour "That thou waft chose to be our principal, "Welcome to be our Princess crown'd with pow'r, "Our pearl, our pleafance, and our paramour, "Our peace, our play, our plain felicity: "Chrift thee conferve from all adversity.” XXVII.

Then all the concert fang with fuch a fhout,
That I anon awaken'd where I lay,

And with a braid I turned me about
To fee this court, but all were gone away;
Then up I lean'd me, halflings in affray,
Call'd to my Mufe, and for my fubject chose
To fing the royal THISTLE and the ROSE.

C

VERSES ON THE DEATH

OF QEEEN

CAROLINE.

BY MR. SHIPLEY.

Blivion wraps not in her filent shade

All human labours. Virtue blooms a flower, That Time's rough hand shall never violate. Still CAROLINE fhall live in faithful verse, Sweet nurfe of Memory, and in the voice Of grateful Britain. These fhall teftify How well her calm impartial rule fupplied A Monarch's abfence; thefe commemorate Her foul contemplative of peaceful Truth And nature, mindful midst the pomp of Courts Of wife retirement, and the filent grove.

She ftretch'd thro' length'ning fhades thy fpacious walks,

Delightful Richmond, and the terrafs rais'd
Of regal grandeur, whence the eye difcerns
Fair Thames with copious waters winding flow
Midft paftures, fpreading herds, and villages
Of afpe&t neat, and villas wrapt in shades:
Fair fcene of chearful peace! The lovely fight
Frequent fhe view'd, and blefs'd the honour'd reign

Of her great Confort, provident and mild. Now wander'd mufing thro' the darkning depth Of thickest woods, friendly to folemn thought: Now o'er broad lawns fair-op'ning to the fun. Nor midst her rural plans difdain'd to mix The useful arable, and waving corn With soft turf border'd, and the lowly cot, That half appears, in branching elms obfcur'd. Here beauty dwells, affembled from the fcenes Of various nature; fuch as oft inflam'd With rapture Grecian bards, in that fair vale, Theffalian Tempe, or thy fav'rite foil, Arcadia, erft by awe-ftruck Fancy fill'd With wand'ring forms, the woodland Deities, Light Nymphs and wanton Satyrs, faintly feen Quick glancing thro' the fhade at close of eve, Great Pan, and old Silenus. Hither led By folitary grief fhall GEORGE recall

Th' endearing manners, the soft speech, that flow'd
From his lov'd Confort, virtue mix'd with love,
Prudence, and mild infinuating sense:

But chief her thoughtful breast of counfels deep
Capacious, nor unequal to the weight
Of Government. Such was the royal mind
Of wife ELIZA, name of lovelieft found
To British ears, and pattern fair to Kings:
Or She who rules the Scepter of the North
"Illuftrious, fpreading o'er a barb'rous world

The light of arts and manners, and with arms
Infefts th' aftonish'd Sultan, hardly now
With scatter'd troops refifting; fhe drives on
The heavy war, and fhakes th' Imperial Throne
Of old Byzantium. Latest time shall found
The praise of female genius. Oft fhall GEORGE
Pay the kind tear, and grief of tender words
To CAROLINE, thus oft lamenting fad.

"Hail facred shade! by me with endless woe "Still honour'd! ever in my breast shall dwell Thy image, ever prefent to my foul

66

"Thy faithful love, in length of years mature: "O skill'd t' enliven time, to foften care

"With looks and fmiles and friendship's chearful voice!

66

Anxious, of Thee bereft, a folitude

"I feel, that not the fond condoling cares

"Of our fad offspring can remove.

Ev'n now

"With lonely steps I trace the gloomy groves,

"Thy lov'd receffes, ftudious to recall

"The vanish'd blifs, and cheat my wand'ring thoughts "With sweet illufion. Yet I not accufe "Heav'n's difpenfation. Profperous and long "Have been my days, and not unknown to fame, "That dwells with virtue. But 'tis hard to part "The league of ancient friendship, to refign "The home-felt fondness, the fecure delight, "That reason nourish'd, and fair time approv'd."

THE GENEALOGY OF CHRIST

AS IT IS REPRESENTED ON THE EAST WINDOW

OF WINCHESTER COLL. CHAPEL.

WRITTEN AT WINTON SCHOOL, BY MR. LOWTHE.

AT

Το

pour

T once to raise our rev'rence and delight,
To elevate the mind, and please the fight,
in virtue at th' attentive eye,
And waft the foul on wings of extacy;
For this the painter's art with nature vies,
And bids the vifionary faint arife;

Who views the facred forms, in thought afpires,
Catches pure zeal, and as he gazes, fires;
Feels the fame ardour to his breast convey'd,
Is what he fees, and emulates the shade.

Thy strokes, great Artist, so fublime appear,
They check our pleasure with an awful fear;
While, thro' the mortal line, the God you trace,
Author himself, and Heir of Jeffe's race;
In raptures we admire thy bold design,
And, as the fubject, own the hand divine.
While thro' thy work the rifing day shall stream,
So long shall last thine honour, praise, and name.