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Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses

A Collection of Poems. In Three Volumes. By Mr John Hopkins

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 I. 
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 III. 
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The Charmer.
  
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134

The Charmer.

Each Love-sick Youth, by partial Passion torn,
Thinks that faint Star the brightest Fires adorn,
Beneath whose smiling Reign the Youth was born.
That Planet Clouded, and depriv'd of Light,
He thinks some other, and some other bright.
Amasia thus, shed pointed glories far,
In the first dawn, the Poet's Morning Star.
Yet still new Beams her Charming aspect wears,
Daily ador'd twice six long rolling Years.
First in Hibernia was the Nymph admir'd,
There first her Charms the ravisht Sylvius Fir'd.
Blest Gallia now is with her influence Crown'd,
Not shining still on his sad, Native ground,
What he thought fixt, a wand'ring Star is found.
Tho' long remov'd from my deluded Eyes,
She seems the brightest Planet of the skies,
In France she sets, nor must in Brittain rise.
Whilst Lov'd Amasia's Charms the Poet Sings,
He speaks, admiring Subsolary things.

135

Sol's stronger rise we see Aurora shun;
Here, none compares, Grafton is Beauty's Sun.
If to her Face our Sick'ning Eyes we move,
Blind grows all Admiration, Blind as Love.
Sight, not Immortal, should not rashly dare
To tempt that Lustrous view it cannot bear.
Conscious of Fires, which by Reflection warm,
I stand at distance, and perceive the Charm.
View Grafton's Face reflected by her Fame,
As Men view Phæbus in the Silver Stream.
This bliss, in pity to our weakness giv'n,
We view the Sun, but gaze not at the Heaven.
Next her, immediate, Shall Amasia shine
In every dazzled sight, as well as mine.
While Grafton's self, first shall the Throne maintain,
Let her, the fairest Fair Vicegerent Reign.
The Poet's Venus, whom his Muse has Sung,
Not from the Sea, but from a Deluge Sprung.
Greatly deriv'd, the Beauteous Charmer Flow'd
From a long line of Royal, old Hibernian Blood.
Her Country delug'd in a fatal War,
Her House's Ark tost on rude Billows far.
Succeeding Wars, to me more fatal bred;
From the curs'd Land this fair Astræa fled.

136

To her, their Regent Queen, does Gallia Bow,
The Fruitful Gallia is her Empire now.
Her Eyes their Souls at once inspire and awe,
Imperial grown, spight of their Salick Law.
O'er Spacious France her shining Scepter's hurl'd,
She Reigns o'er France and me, but Grafton o'er the World.