Hence, avaunt! ye savage train,
That drench the earth, and dye the main,
With the tides of hostile gore:
Who joy in wur's terrific charms,
To see the steely gleam of arms,

And hear the cannon's roar; Unknown the godlike virtue how to yield To Cressy's or to Blenheim's deathful field; Begone, and sate your Pagan thirst of blood; Edward, fell homicide, awaits you there, And Anna's hero, both unskill'd to spare Whene'er the foe their slaught'ring sword withstood. CA The pious George to white-stol'd Peace alone

His olive sceptre yields, and palm-encircled throne.

Desp❜rate ye withstand,
He bares his red right hand,
As when Eloim's pow'r,

In Judah's rebel hour,
Let fall the fiery show'r

That o'er her parch'd hills desolation spread,

And heap'd her vales with mountains of the dead.

O'er Schuylkill's cliffs the tempest roars į
O'er Rappahanock's recreant shores;
Up the rough rocks of Kipps's Bay
The huge Anspacher wins his way ;

Or scares the falcon from the fir-capp'd side
Of each high hill that hangs o'er Hudson's haughty tide.
Matchless victor, mighty lord!
Sheath the devouring sword!
Strong to punish, mild to save,
Close the portals of the grave.
Exert thy first prerogative,

Ah! spare thy subjects' blood, and let them live;

Our tributary breath

Hangs on thine for life or death.

Sweet is the balmy breath of orient morn,

Sweet are the honied treasures of the bee;
Sweet is the fragrance of the scented thorn,

But sweeter yet the voice of royal clemency.-
He hears, and from his wisdom's perfect day
He sends a bright effulgent ray,

The nations to illumine far and wide,.
And feud and discord, war and strife, subside.

His moral sages, all unknown, t' untię

The wily rage of human policy,

Their equal compasses expand,

And mete the globe with philosophic hand.

No partial love of country binds

In selfish chains the lib'ral minds,

O gentle Lansdown! ting'd with thy philanthropy..

Let other monarchs vainly boast

A lengthen❜d line of conquer'd coast,
Or boundless sea of tributary flood,
Bought by as wide a sea of blood

Brunswick, in more saintlike guise,
Claims for his spoils a purer prize,
Content at every price to buy

A conquest o'er himself, and o'er his progeny.
His be domestic glory's radiant calm-

His be the sceptre wreath'd with many a palm-
His be the throne with peaceful emblems hung,
And mine the laurel'd lyre, to those mild conquests strung!

NUMBER XV.

PINDARIC,

By the RIGHT HON. HERVEY REDMOND,

LORD VISCOUNT MOUNTMORRES,

Of Castle Morres, of the Kingdom of Ireland, &c. &a

I.

AWAKE, Hibernian lyre, awake,
To harmony thy strings attune,

O tache their trembling tongue to spake
The glories of the fourth of June.
Auspicious morn!

When George was born

To grace (by deputy) our Irish throne,
North, south, aiste, west,
Of Kings the best,

Sure now he's aquall'd by himself alone: Throughout th' astonish'd globe so loud his fame shall

ring,

The dif themselves shall hare the strains the dumb shall

sing.

H.

Sons of Fádruig *, strain your throats,
In your native Irish lays,
Sweater than the screach-owl's notes,
Howl aloud your sov'reign's praise.
Quick to his hallow'd fane be led
A milk-white BULL, on soft potatoes fed:
His curling horns and ample neck
Let wreaths of verdant shamrock deck;
And perfum'd flames, to rache the sky,
Let fuel from our bogs supply,

Whilst we to George's health, a'en till the bowl runs o'er,
Rich strames of usquebaugh and sparkling whiskey pour.

III.

Of dithless fame immortal heirs,
A brave and patriotic band,
Mark where Ierne's Voluntares
Array'd in bright disorder stand.
The Lawyers' corps, red fac'd with black,
Here drive the martial merchants back;

Here Sligo's bold brigade advance,
There Lim'rick legions sound their drum;
Here Gallway's gallant squadrons prance,
And Cork Invincibles are overcome!
The Union firm of Coleraine

Are scatter'd o'er the warlike plain,

While Tipperary infantry pursues

SW

The Clognikelty horse and Ballyshannon blues.

Ancient Irish name given to St. Patriek.