The Same
ODE Imitated.
To the King.
1
Guardian of Britain! come away,
Thy anxious People mourn thy Stay:
Haste, Anson, and restore
(Ere faithless Foes and wintry Skies
Alarm) a far more precious Prize
Than what you brought before.
2
Chase, best of Kings, these Shades of Night,
And bid once more returning Light
Her balmy Influence shed!
Thus chear'd, the Birds more blithe will sing;
The Sun new Glories wear; and Spring
Weave Flowers for Autumn's Head.
3
As some fond Mother, lost to Joy,
From China's Coast, her darling Boy
Expecting, Day by Day
Stands trembling, praying on the Shore,
Ev'n so thy Absence we deplore,
Ev'n so for Thee we pray.
4
For Freedom guards her favourite Isle,
By Thee secur'd; and with her Smile
Fair Plenty crowns our Toil:
While Justice deals her warmest Rays,
And Commerce to thy Realm conveys
The Wealth of every Soil.
5
When Thou art safe, in vain will France
Her Standards and her Sails advance;
Her Threat'nings we disdain;
For soon our Fleets shall scour the Sea,
And soon, we trust, our Arms shall free
The Ohio from her Chain.
6
Then the rude Indian, undismay'd,
Shall smoke, beneath his Plantane Shade
The Calumet of Peace;
By Ambuscades alarm'd no more;
For Conflagrations shall be o'er,
And scalping Horrors cease.
7
At thy dread Name the Chief shall bow
The plumy Honours of his Brow,
And, pleas'd, that Sovereign own,
Who bids him lay his Hatchet by,
And let his harmless Arrows fly
At savage Beasts alone.
8
While in his unpolluted Grove,
At Morn, at Night, his sable Love
Shall Britain's Praises sing;
And every Sachem of the Plain
A spicy Bowl to thee shall drain,
Their Father and their King!
1755.
