Poems on several occasions By Stephen Duck |
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To His Royal Highness The Duke of CUMBERLAND,
On His Birth-Day. |
 | Poems on several occasions |  |
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To His Royal Highness The Duke of CUMBERLAND, On His Birth-Day.
Twelve times hath Sol his annual Race begun,Since Jove descended from his radiant Throne:
Around the pendent Globe, the God pursu'd
His circling March, and human Actions view'd;
But griev'd that Virtue droop'd her languid Head,
While Vice, from Clime to Clime, contagious spread.
Back, to his native Seat, he sternly flies;
And sends an Edict thro' the spacious Skies,
To call th'Ethereal Pow'rs: Swift flew his Word;
Th'Ethereal Pow'rs, as swift, attend their Lord.
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Where, high inthron'd, the thund'ring Monarch sat;
And, with a Nod, that shook the Spheres, he swore,
The Minor Gods should visit Earth no more.
What, must your earthly Sons, Minerva cry'd,
Explore their doubtful Way without a Guide?
If Pallas must no more to Mortals go,
Let Pallas beg a Substitute below,
Worthy to rule the World, whose noble Mind
May copy out the Gods to human Kind.
She lowly bow'd; and Jove, consenting, smil'd;
Go, form, said he, this new-imagin'd Child:
Collect the best Materials, where you will;
And let us see, for once, Minerva's Skill.
He said; she hastens o'er the bright Abodes,
Selecting each Perfection of the Gods:
From Mars she warlike Strength and Courage took;
But soften'd them with Venus' graceful Look:
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And crown'd it with her own superior Sense:
Some of Apollo's piercing Rays she stole;
And, while the Muses play'd, she form'd a Soul.
When thus compos'd the bright Ingredients lay,
She nobly drest them in Ethereal Clay;
Jove touch'd the Mass with his enliv'ning Hand,
And vital Warmth inspir'd a Cumberland.
| Poems on several occasions | |