 | Poems (1791) |  |
Ode to the Earl of Northumberland,
On his being appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, presented on the Birth-Day of Lord Warkworth.
Whate'er distinguish'd patriots rise,
The times and manners to revise,
And drooping merit raise,
The song of triumph still pursues
Their footsteps, and the moral muse
Dwells sweetly on their praise.
The times and manners to revise,
And drooping merit raise,
The song of triumph still pursues
Their footsteps, and the moral muse
Dwells sweetly on their praise.
It is a task of true delight,
The ways of goodness to recite,
And all her works refin'd;
Tho' modest greatness under rate
Its lustre; 'tis as fix'd as fate,
Says truth with music join'd.
The ways of goodness to recite,
And all her works refin'd;
Tho' modest greatness under rate
Its lustre; 'tis as fix'd as fate,
Says truth with music join'd.
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All hail to this auspicious morn,
When we, for gallant Warkworth born,
Our gratulations pay:
Tho' virtue all the live long year,
Refuse her eulogy to hear,
She must attend to-day.
When we, for gallant Warkworth born,
Our gratulations pay:
Tho' virtue all the live long year,
Refuse her eulogy to hear,
She must attend to-day.
All hail to that transcendant fair,
That crown'd thy wishes with an heir,
And bless'd her native land:
Still shoots thy undegenerate line,
Like oak from oak, and pine from pine,
As goodly and as grand.
That crown'd thy wishes with an heir,
And bless'd her native land:
Still shoots thy undegenerate line,
Like oak from oak, and pine from pine,
As goodly and as grand.
O how illustrious and divine
Were all the heroes of thy line,
'Gainst Rome's ambitious cheat!
Born all these base insidious arts,
Which work the most in weakest hearts
To dare and to defeat!
Were all the heroes of thy line,
'Gainst Rome's ambitious cheat!
Born all these base insidious arts,
Which work the most in weakest hearts
To dare and to defeat!
Live then in triumph o'er deceit,
That with new honours we may greet
The house of arms and arts,
'Till blest experience shall evince
How fairly you present that prince,
Who's sovereign of our hearts.
That with new honours we may greet
The house of arms and arts,
'Till blest experience shall evince
How fairly you present that prince,
Who's sovereign of our hearts.
In pity to our sister isle
With sighs we lend thee for a while;
O be thou soon restor'd,
Tho' Stanhope, Hallifax were there,
We never had a man to spare
Our love could less afford.
With sighs we lend thee for a while;
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Tho' Stanhope, Hallifax were there,
We never had a man to spare
Our love could less afford.
| Poems (1791) | |