Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses A Collection of Poems. In Three Volumes. By Mr John Hopkins |
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 | Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses |  |
126
The Petition.
To her Royal, and Illustrious Highness, the Princess.
Written in the Name of Mr. ---, being deny'd to Tread the Stage.
What Theam so greatly glorious can I choose?
My Muse Courts you, 'tis not a fawning Muse.
Thus, may I thank my ills, for this success,
Made greater still, by what would make me less!
Where can I nobler bend? I stoop not low,
When, ev'n by falling, I am rais'd to you,
Yet, Prostrate lie, beneath your Royal Feet,
Where so much Power, and so much goodness meet.
Goodness so Sacred, and a Pow'r so High,
The one alone can with the other vye.
My Muse Courts you, 'tis not a fawning Muse.
Thus, may I thank my ills, for this success,
Made greater still, by what would make me less!
Where can I nobler bend? I stoop not low,
When, ev'n by falling, I am rais'd to you,
Yet, Prostrate lie, beneath your Royal Feet,
Where so much Power, and so much goodness meet.
Goodness so Sacred, and a Pow'r so High,
The one alone can with the other vye.
Yet the mean suppliant dares implore the grant,
Mean tho' the suppliant be, yet good the Saint.
Heroes oppress'd, invoke the Pow'r Divine,
And here, the fancy'd Hero calls on thine.
With all Submissive Worship he implores,
Who serves the Sun, but Bows, and so adores.
But such my Crime, no off'ring can Attone,
Offending all, yet meant offence to none.
Disrob'd of Passions, how would Players show,
Yet, I offended, that I was not so.
Hard fate of Mortals, which impending lies,
Bearing such Tempests, in themselves to rise.
Tempests, and Oceans threaten from afar,
But O do thou protect, thou, the Auspicious Star.
By thee I guide my course, to thee I pray,
The Guardian Venus of our British Sea.
One Breath from thee would soften Storms to Gales,
Calm every Billow, and spread full the Sails.
So with my Pageant Streamers once again,
I shall beneath your Sun-shine Plow the main.
But yet, till you, Propitious Princess, smile,
I Steer, like Vessels, off, which shun the Isle.
You, who to all the height of Goodness live,
Instruct your gen'rous Brittons to forgive.
Ev'n Heav'n, it self, receives affronts from Men,
But, they repenting, it grows Calm again.
So may'st, thou Flourish long, and bless the Age,
So may thy Vertues Crown the future Stage.
So, when great William shall in Heaven be seen,
May you Reign long, the blest Britannia's Queen.
Mean tho' the suppliant be, yet good the Saint.
Heroes oppress'd, invoke the Pow'r Divine,
And here, the fancy'd Hero calls on thine.
With all Submissive Worship he implores,
Who serves the Sun, but Bows, and so adores.
127
Offending all, yet meant offence to none.
Disrob'd of Passions, how would Players show,
Yet, I offended, that I was not so.
Hard fate of Mortals, which impending lies,
Bearing such Tempests, in themselves to rise.
Tempests, and Oceans threaten from afar,
But O do thou protect, thou, the Auspicious Star.
By thee I guide my course, to thee I pray,
The Guardian Venus of our British Sea.
One Breath from thee would soften Storms to Gales,
Calm every Billow, and spread full the Sails.
So with my Pageant Streamers once again,
I shall beneath your Sun-shine Plow the main.
But yet, till you, Propitious Princess, smile,
I Steer, like Vessels, off, which shun the Isle.
You, who to all the height of Goodness live,
Instruct your gen'rous Brittons to forgive.
Ev'n Heav'n, it self, receives affronts from Men,
But, they repenting, it grows Calm again.
So may'st, thou Flourish long, and bless the Age,
So may thy Vertues Crown the future Stage.
So, when great William shall in Heaven be seen,
May you Reign long, the blest Britannia's Queen.
| Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses | |