Nor bribes nor threat'nings could his zeal abate
To ferve his country, and avert her fate.
Firm to her laws and liberties he stood,
Submitting private views to public good.
Who could obfequious with the current swim,
Whigs might be call'd, but tories were to him.
Perfons or parties he no longer knew,
When fwerving once from honeft, juft, and true.
Oft has he ftem'd the rage of impious times,
When patriot virtues bore the brand of crimes.
To check proud tyrants born, and factions awe,
But most devoted to good kings and law.
Twice his dear country was on ruin's brink,
Refolv'd to fave her, or with her to fink,
His brave attempts fuccefsful twice he saw,
Once in wife BRUNSWICK, once in
No bolder champion in religion's caufe;
None fought more battles, nor with more applaufe.
To arms he flew as danger prefs'd her home,
And fnatch'd the hopeless prey from France and Rome.
But as from confcience pure, religion fprings,
He freedom prefs'd in uneffential things.
Coercive laws, he rightly understood,
Might make men hypocrites, but never good.
All genuine virtue is by nature free;
And will, when forc'd, no longer virtue be.
Who justly would his eloquence declare,
Himself muft WHARTON's fertile genius fhare.
Would
you conceive it? fee how o'er the fands
Fair Thames advances where Augufta ftands.
Gentle he flows, but with refiftless force,
Not like the rapid Rhone's impetuous course;
Tho' deep, fo clear are his transparent streams,
His bottom rifing to his furface feems.
Full is his fpreading current, but restrain❜d.
And ftill within its flow'ry banks contain'd.
Alternate wealth his two extremes unfold,
Downwards he fends us bread, and upwards gold.
Flow, sweetest river! ftill thy course prolong!
Thus deep and clear, thus gentle, full and ftrong,
That diftant ages may the image fee
Of WHARTON's flowing eloquence in thee.
So fhall no torrents foil thy crystal stream,
Thou patriot's emblem, and thou poet's theme!
Ye nobles who furround the British throne,
Reflect its luftre, and improve your own;
You who refemble, in rich robes of state,
That majefty august on which you wait,
Witnefs how often his decifive sense,
His wit, his art, and copious eloquence,
Have fingly won the question to his fide,
Made Oxford blush, and St. John drop his pride;
Whilft every ear was with his accents charm'd,
As every breaft was with his ardour warm'd:
Faction was touch'd and felt the fecret force,
Dumb, and convicted, but without remorse,
VOL. V.
Envy with rage contending in her face,
To fee his triumph and her just disgrace.
Nor lefs in council did his weight appear,
The ableft ftatefman, as the brightest peer.
Thou mighty prince, who from perfidious power
Didft fpeed to fave us in a timely hour;
Whilft beauty join'd with valour form'd thy train,
To grace our court, and raise our martial vein;
Whofe rifing beams made drooping Credit thrive,
Religion fpring, fair Liberty revive:
Say, if thy chosen ministers, who fate
With thee to guide the great machine of state,
A more confummate character could boast,
Than that which Britain in her WHARTON loft.
Oh! had kind heaven (if prayers were not too late)
Another luftrum added to his date,
How would his head, his heart, his hand confpire,
To punish traitors as their crimes require!
To crush rebellion, bridle factious rage,
And quell the monsters of an impious age !
How would his bofom beat with joy to fee,
Great GEORGE! the British legend true in thee!
To fee thee o'er the vanquish'd dragon ride,
And free thy kingdoms from his rage and pride!
Whilft peace and plenty spread their golden wings
Around the best of men, the best of kings,
And every tide fhall waft into thy ports
Wealth from all lands, and homage from all courts.
But fov'reign heav'n, whose ways are ever wise,
Juft drew the glorious dawn before his eyes ;
And for his happier fon referv'd the fight
Of Brunswick's power in its meridian light.
GEORGE fhall in him prove honour, courage, truth,
And find the father in the pregnant youth.
Thus the great leader of the Hebrew bands,
Through opening billows and o'er burning fands,
From Egypt's yoke, and haughty Pharaoh's chains,.
To Canaan's fruitful hills, and flow'ry plains,
From Pifgah's height the promis'd land defcry'd;
More was forbid; he saw, rejoic'd, and dy'd.
By the late WILLIAM SOMERVILE, Efq;
Venge moy d'une ingrate maitresse,
Dieu du vin, j'implore bon yvreffe
IND relief in all my pain,
Jolly Bacchus! hear my pray'r
Vengeance on th' ingrateful fair!
In thy fmiling cordial bowl,
Drown the forrows of my foul,
All thy deity employ,
Gild each gloomy thought with joy,
He died a few months after the acceffion of GEORGE I.
Jolly Bacchus! fave, oh fave
From the deep devouring grave,
A poor, despairing, dying fwain.
Hafte away,
Lafh thy tigers do not stay,
I'm undone if thou delay.
If I view those eyes once more,
Still fhall love, and still adore,
And be more wretched than before.
See the glory round her face!
See her move!
With what a grace!
Ye Gods above!
Is the not one of your immortal race?
Fly, ye winged Cupids, fly,
Dart like light'ning thro' the sky:
You'd ye in marble temples dwell,
The dear one to my arms compel ;
Bring her in bands of myrtle tied,
Bid her forget, and bid her hide
All her scorn and all her pride.
Wou'd ye that your flave repay
A fmoaking hecatomb each day,
O restore,
The beauteous Goddess I adore,
O restore, with all her charms,
The faithlefs vagrant to my arms,
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