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How on that posture has the beam
Nor wait enlightened minds to learn
nd stoops Omnipotence so low? And condescends to dwell Eternity's inhabitant, Well-pleased in such a cell ? Such honour how shall we repay? How treat our guest divine ?The sacrifice supreme be slain ! Let self-will die : Resign. Thus far, at large on our disease; Now let the cause be shown, Whence rises, and will ever rise, The dismal human groan. What our sole fountain of distress? Strong passion for this scene; That trifles make important, things Of mighty moment mean. When earth's dark maxims poison shed On our polluted souls, Our hearts and interests fly as far Asunder as the poles. Like princes in a cottage nursed Unknown their royal race, With abject aims and sordid joys Our grandeur we disgrace. O for an Archimides new Of moral powers possessed, The world to move and quite expel That traitor from the breast ! No small advantage may be reaped From thought whence we descend; From weighing well, and prizing, weighed, Our origin and end; From far above the glorious sun To this dim scene we came; And may, if wise, for ever bask In great Jehovah's beam : Let that bright beam, on reason roused, In awful lustre rise, Earth's giant ills are dwarfed at once, And all disquiet dies; Earth's glories, too, their splendour lose, Those phantoms charm no more, Empire's a feather for a fool, And Indian mines are poor : Then leveled quite, whilst yet alive, The monarch and his slave;
When human glory rises high
* Isaiah lvil. 15.
How shocking is that modesty
And veneration most profound Of dread Omnipotence. 'Tis that alone unlocks the gate
Of blessed eternity! O may'st thou never, never lose That more than golden key !* Whate'er may seem too rough, excuse; Your good I have at heart; Since from my soul I wish you well, As yet we must not part : Shall you and I, in love with life, Life's future schemes contrive, The world in wonder not unjust, That we are still alive?
What then are they whose proud conceits
What have we left ? how mean in man A shadow's shade to crave ? When life so vain! is vainer still, 'Tis time to take our leave.
Happier than happiest life his death,
Voltaire! long life's the greatest curse
O how disordered our machine,
Lotter to Lord Lyttleton
*Alluding to Prussia,
Thus have I written, when to write
Was death denied, this world a scene
Of death can rob the just !
'Tis done in heaven ; whence headlong hurled
Madam! self-will inflicts your pains:
You know that Virtue's basis lies
Why mourn the dead? you wrong the grave,
First ! Greatest ! Best! grant what I wrote
Thy praise, begun on earth, to sound
Where angels strike the lyre !
Means most infallible to make
Of human nature, ne'er too high
I sing !—but, ah! my theme I need not tell !
See every eye with conscious sorrow swell: DEATH OF QUEEN ANNE, Who now to verse would raise his humble voice,
Can only show his duty, not his choice.
How great the weight of grief our hearts sustain ! ACCESSION OF KING GEORGE.
We languish, and to speak is to complain.
Let us look back, (for who too oft can view
That most illustrious scene, for ever new!)
See all the seasons shine on Anna's throne, Secretary to their Ercellencies the Lords Justices.
And pay a constant tribute not their own.
Her summer heats not fruits alone bestow,
They reap the harvests and subdue the foe; Sır! I have long, and with impatience, sought And when black storms confess the distant sun, To ease the fulness of my grateful thought, Her winters wear the wreaths her summers won: My fame at once and duty to pursue,
Revolving pleasures in their turns appear,
Though you, long since beyond Britannia known, To crown the whole, great joys in greater cease,
Whence this profusion on our favoured isle ?
Know, Sir! the great esteem and honour due We spread our canvass to the southern shore; I choose, that moment, to profess to you, 'Tis Anna reigns! the South resigns her store. When sadness reigned, when Fortune so severe Her virtue sooths the tumult of the main, Had warmed our bosoms to be most sincere, And swells the field with mountains of the slain; And when no motive could have force to raise Argyle and Churchill but the glory share, A serious value, and provoke my praise, While millions lie subdued by Anna's prayer. But such as rise above, and far transcend,
How great her zeal! how fervent her desire ! Whatever glories with this world shall end, How did her soul in holy warmth expire! Then shining forth, when deepest shades shall blot Constant devotion did her time divide ! The sun's bright orb, and Cato be forgot. Nor set returns of pleasure or of pride;
Not want of rest, or the sun's parting ray, August in native worth and regal state,
Anna sat arbitress of Europe's fate;
Though Europe's wealth and glory claimed a part, No throng of suppliant princes mark the place, Religion's cause reigned mistress of her heart; Where Britain's greatness is composed in peace: She saw, and grieved, to see the mean estate The broken earth is scarce discerned to rise, Of those who round the hallowed altar wait; And a stone tells us where the monarch lies. She shed her bounty piously profuse,
Thus end maturest honours of the crown! And thought it more her own in sacred use. This is the last conclusion of renown! Thus on his furrow see the tiller stand,
So when, with idle skill, the wanton boy And fill with genial seed his lavish hand; Breathes through his tube, he sees, with eager joy, He trusts the kindness of the fruitful plain, The trembling bubble, in its rising small, And providently scatters all his grain.
And by degrees, expands the glittering ball; What strikes my sight! does proud Augusta rise But when, to full perfection blown, it flies New to behold, and awfully surprise !
High in the air, and shines in various dyes, Her lofty brow more numerous turrets crown,
The little monarch, with a falling tear, And sacred domes on palaces look down;
Sees his world buret at once, and disappear. A noble pride of piety is shown,
'Tis not in sorrow to reverse our doom; And temples cast a lustre on the throne. No groans unlock the inexorable tomb; How would this work another's glory raise; Why then this fond indulgence of our wo! But Anna's greatness robs her of the praise : What fruit can rise, or what advantage flow! Drowned in a greater blaze it disappears. Yes, this advantage from our deep distress, Who dried the widow's and the orphan's tears? We learn how much in George the gods can bless, Who stooped from high to succour the distressed, Had a less glorious princess left the throne, And reconcile the wounded heart to rest ? But half the hero had at first been shown; Great in her goodness, well could we perceive, And Anna falling all the King employs, Whoever sought, it was a queen that gave.
To vindicate from guilt our rising joys: Misfortune lost her name: her guiltless frown Our joys arise, and innocently shine, But made another debtor to the crown,
Auspicious monarch! what a praise is thine! And each unfriendly stroke from fate we bore, Welcome, great Stranger! to Britannia's throne' Became our title to the regal store.
Nor let thy country think thee all her own. Thus injured trees adopt a foreign shoot, Of thy delay how oft did we complain! And their wounds blossom with a fairer fruit. Our hopes reached out, and met thee on the main.
Ye Numbers, who on your misfortunes thrived, With prayer we smoothed the billows for thy fleet. When first the dreadful blast of Fame arrived, With ardent wishes filled thy swelling sheet; Say, what a shock, what agonies you felt, And when thy foot took place on Albion's shore, How did your souls with tender anguish melt! We bending blessed the gods, and asked no more. That grief which living Anna's love suppressed, What hand but thine should conquer and comShook like a tempest every grateful breast.
pose, A second fate our sinking fortunes tried; Join those whom int’rest joins, and chase our A second time our tender parents died !
foes? Heroes returning from the field we crown,
Repel the daring youth's presumptuous aim, And deify the haughty victor's frown;
And by his rival's greatness give him fame! His splendid wreath too rashly we admire, Now in some foreign court he may sit down, Catch the disease, and burn with equal fire. And quit, without a blush, the British crown, Wisely to spend is the great art of gain; Secure his honour, though he lose his store, And one relieved transcends a million slain. And take a lucky moment to be poor. When time shall ask where once Ramillia lay, Nor think, great Sir! now first, at this late hour, Or Danube flowed that swept whole troops away, In Britain's favour you exert your power: One drop of water, that refreshed the dry, To us, far back in time, I joy to trace Shall raise a fountain of eternal joy.
The num'rous tokens of your princely grace. But ah! to that unknown and distant date Whether you choose to thunder on the Rhine, Is Virtue's great reward pushed off by Fate; Inspire grave councils, or in courts to shine: Here random shafts in every breast are found, In the more scenes your genius was displayed, Virtue and merit but provoke the wound. The greater debt was on Britannia laid: