Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

Excufe, great Sir, the ravings of a mind,
That can so just a cause for sorrow find;
My words too rudely may a monarch greet,
For oh! was ever grief like mine discreet!
No fuff'rings fhall my firm alliance end,
An unfuccefsful, but a faithful friend.

XXX

XXXXXXX

To the DUKE of MARLBOROUGH.

ARDON, great Duke, if Britain's ftile delights;

[ocr errors]

Or if th' Imperial title more invites ;
Pardon, great Prince, the failings of a Muse,
That dares not hope for more than your excuse,
Forc'd at a distance to attempt your praise,
And fing your victories in mournful lays,
To cast in shadows, and allay the light,
That wounds, with nearer rays, the dazled fight,
Nor durft in a direct and open ftrain

Such acts, with her unhallow'd notes, prophane:
In tow'ring verfe let meaner heroes grow,
And to elab'rate lines their greatness owe,
Your actions, own'd by ev'ry nation, want
Praises, no greater than a foe may grant.

Oh! when shall Europe, by her MARLBRO's fword,
To lasting peace and liberty reftor'd,

3

Allow

Allow her weary champion a retreat,
To his lov'd country and his rifing seat ?
Where your foft partner, far from martial noise,
Your cares fhall fweeten with domestic joys:
Your conquefts fhe with doubtful pleasure hears,
And in the midst of ev'ry triumph fears;
Betwixt her queen and you divides her life,
A friend obfequious, and a faithful wife.

Hail Woodstock! hail ye celebrated glades!
Grow faft ye woods, and flourish thick ye fhades!
Ye rifing tow'rs for your new lord prepare,
Like your old Henry come from Gallia's war.
The gen❜ral's arms as far the king's o'erpow'r,
As this new ftructure does furpass the bow'r.
The pleafing profpects and romantic fcite,
The fpacious compafs, and the ftately height;
The painted gardens, in their flow'r prime,
Demand whole volumes of immortal rhime,
And if the Mufe would fecond the defign,
Mean as they are, should in my numbers shine,
There live, the joy and wonder of our ifles,
Happy in Albion's love, and ANNA's fmiles.
While from the godlike race of CHURCHILL born,
Four beauteous Rosamonds this bow'r adorn,
Who with the ancient fyren of the place

In charms might vie, and ev'ry blooming grace;
But blefs'd with equal virtues had she been,
Like them fhe had been favour'd by the QUEEN,

[ocr errors][merged small]

Whom your high merit, and their own, prefers
To all the worthiest beds of England's peers.

Thus the great eagle, when heav'n's wars are o'er,
And the loud thunder has forgot to roar,

Jove's fires laid by, with those of Venus burns,
To his forfaken mate and fhades returns

تر

On fome proud tree, more facred than the rest,
With curious art he builds his spacious neft;
In the warm fun lies basking all the day,
While round their fire the gen'rous eaglets play;
Their fire, well-pleas'd to fee the noble brood,
Fill all the loftieft cedars of the wood.

sk sk sk sk sk sk sk sk sk sk sk sk sk DR

An ODE on Mifs HARRIET HANBURY at Six Years old.

By Sir CHARLES HANBURY WILLIAMS.

I.

HY fhou'd I thus employ my time,

[ocr errors]

To paint those cheeks of rofy hue?
Why fhou'd I fearch my brains for rhime,
To fing thofe eyes of gloffy blue ?

[blocks in formation]

III.

But foon those eyes their strength shall feel;
Those charms their pow'rful sway shall find:
Youth fhall in crowds before you kneel,
And own your empire o'er mankind.

[merged small][ocr errors]

Then when on Beauty's throne you fit,
And thousands court your wish'd-for arms;
My Muse shall stretch her utmoft wit,
To fing the victories of your charms.

མ.

Charms that in time fhall ne'er be loft,
At least while verfe like mine endures :
And future HANBURYS fhall boast,

Of verfe like mine, of charms like yours.
VI.

A little vain we both may be,

Since scarce another house can fhew,
A poet, that can fing like me;

A beauty, that can charm like you,

[blocks in formation]

XXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXX

A SONG

Upon Mifs HARRIET HANBURY, address'd to the Rev. Mr. BIRT.

By the Same.

I.

EAR doctor of St. Mary's,

Din the hundred of Bergavenny,

I've seen fuch a lafs,

With a fhape and a face,

As never was match'd by any.

II.

Such wit, fuch bloom, and fuch beauty,

Has this girl of Ponty Pool, Sir,

With eyes that wou'd make

The toughest heart ach,

And the wifeft man a fool, Sir.

III.

At our fair t'other day she appear'd, Sir,

And the Welchmen all flock'd and view'd her;

And all of them said,

She was fit to have been made

A wife for Owen Tudor.

IV. They

« ZurückWeiter »