 | To the King |  |
To the KING.
STROPHE.
As some vast vista, whose extentScarce bounded by the firmament
From whence it's sweep begun;
Above, beneath, in every place,
Mark'd with some grand distinguish'd grace,
Ends with the golden sun:
Thus, GEORGE, thy reign, to the impartial view
In all its parts, in every light appears;
For ever happy, as for ever new,
Rise the bright days, and roll the glorious years.
Yet—still—the voice, that bids the nations breathe
To hear fair justice, and the sword to sheathe,
'Tis this, th'exertion of thy godlike soul,
'Tis this confirms, compleats, and nobly crowns the whole.
ANTISTROPHE.
Oh! born the nations to compose,How doubly sweet thy olive blows
O'er the triumphant palm!
After the blast, how bland the breeze!
How amiably superb the seas,
When hush'd into a calm!
Say by what miracle, what pow'rful charm,
Plan'd and accomplish'd was th'august design?
Was it thy WILLIAM's formidable arm
Just and effectual, like the wrath Divine?
Was it thy fleet that smoak'd the depth along
Swift as the eagle, as the lion strong?—
No—'twas that Wisdom bad the warfare cease,
Whose ways are pleasantness, and all whose paths are PEACE.
EPODON.
Of Camus oft the solitary strandPoetically pensive will I haunt:
And, as I view th'innumerable sand,
Think on thy bounties; and with transport chaunt,
That now no more Bellona's brazen car
Affrights Urania in her blissful seat;
Nor Stratagem, the subtlest snake of war,
Plots to entangle every Pilgrim's feet:
That now no lures our vagrant steps mislead;
Except the harmless syrens of the mead,
Deftly secrete in hawthorne ambuscade,
Charm the romantic rovers to the upland glade.
C. Smart M.A. Fellow of Pembroke Hall.
| To the King | |