 | An Hymn on Peace |  |
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AN HYMN ON PEACE.
Once more, O Saviour Prince, thy Bard inspire,
Instruct his Hands to touch the Sacred Lyre,
With Notes like those which calm'd the Hebrew King,
And let none throw the Javelin while I Sing.
Smooth flow my Verse, as Sil'oe's gentle Streams,
Yet Strong and awful as Prophetic Dreams,
And in No-uninstructive Strains declare
The Foes to Peace, the Cause and Cure of War:
So I'll devote my Songs and Life to Thee,
And pass from Hymns on Earth to Heav'nly Harmonie.
Instruct his Hands to touch the Sacred Lyre,
With Notes like those which calm'd the Hebrew King,
And let none throw the Javelin while I Sing.
Smooth flow my Verse, as Sil'oe's gentle Streams,
Yet Strong and awful as Prophetic Dreams,
And in No-uninstructive Strains declare
The Foes to Peace, the Cause and Cure of War:
So I'll devote my Songs and Life to Thee,
And pass from Hymns on Earth to Heav'nly Harmonie.
Before the Checquer'd Line of Night and Day,
E're the First Morning did its Beams Display;
E're Time this measur'd Race had yet begun,
Or Heav'ns bright Wand'rers Danc'd around the Sun:
E're Bodies to Surrounding Place confin'd
Were yet from Nothing call'd, when all was Mind;
Th' Almighty Word the Heav'n of Heav'ns sustain'd
Serene in Bliss the King of Glory reign'd:
The Seraph-Choir in every Note agree,
And all is Peace, and all is Harmonie.
E're the First Morning did its Beams Display;
E're Time this measur'd Race had yet begun,
Or Heav'ns bright Wand'rers Danc'd around the Sun:
E're Bodies to Surrounding Place confin'd
Were yet from Nothing call'd, when all was Mind;
Th' Almighty Word the Heav'n of Heav'ns sustain'd
Serene in Bliss the King of Glory reign'd:
The Seraph-Choir in every Note agree,
And all is Peace, and all is Harmonie.
Since Ill was not, how cou'd fierce Wars begin,
And whence was Sorrow, and it's Parent, Sin?
Freedom of Thought! from Thee we all derive,
Tho' Thou the best good thing that Heav'n cou'd give:
Fair Liberty abus'd to License turn'd,
And in Ambition's Flames the Seraph's burn'd.
And whence was Sorrow, and it's Parent, Sin?
Freedom of Thought! from Thee we all derive,
Tho' Thou the best good thing that Heav'n cou'd give:
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And in Ambition's Flames the Seraph's burn'd.
Could then such Rage Celestial Minds inspire?
Would what was next the Highest still be Higher?
Can those bless'd Realms for Civil Arms prepare?
O how could Heav'n be Heav'n when War was there!
A while it was, but soon th' Etherial Mold
Purg'd off its Dross, and Shone with Native Gold.
Son of the Morning, whither must thou go,
Whelm'd from the Seats of Peace to Warring Worlds below?
With Thee mad Rage and wild Confusion dwell,
Pale Hate, lean Envy, practic'd to Rebel,
And Discord, odious to its Parent Hell.
Around th' Etherial Walls the Victor drove,
Breathing Ambrosial Fragancy and Love:
He heal'd the Scars of Heav'n, sweet Peace restor'd,
And Hymning Seraphim adore their Lord.
Would what was next the Highest still be Higher?
Can those bless'd Realms for Civil Arms prepare?
O how could Heav'n be Heav'n when War was there!
A while it was, but soon th' Etherial Mold
Purg'd off its Dross, and Shone with Native Gold.
Son of the Morning, whither must thou go,
Whelm'd from the Seats of Peace to Warring Worlds below?
With Thee mad Rage and wild Confusion dwell,
Pale Hate, lean Envy, practic'd to Rebel,
And Discord, odious to its Parent Hell.
Around th' Etherial Walls the Victor drove,
Breathing Ambrosial Fragancy and Love:
He heal'd the Scars of Heav'n, sweet Peace restor'd,
And Hymning Seraphim adore their Lord.
A while the Father's Co-eternal Son
Repos'd him when the Mighty Work was done:
Sublime the Great-Three-One enthron'd in State
Did a new World in Council Meditate:
It 'rose; In Heav'n, To-will is To-be-done:
It smiling 'rose, and bless'd the Great-Three-One;
The New-erected World to Man is giv'n,
Tenant for Life Probationer of Heav'n,
Once to regain that bright Etherial Coast,
And fill those Seats Seditious Angels lost.
Learn Mortals, Learn from so Severe a Fate,
With cautious Fear, to Shun the dang'rous Height!
Adorn your Orb, Shine in your proper Sphere,
And thence to Heav'n aspire, nor Danger fear,
Since ev'n Ambition's self is Vertue here.
Repos'd him when the Mighty Work was done:
Sublime the Great-Three-One enthron'd in State
Did a new World in Council Meditate:
It 'rose; In Heav'n, To-will is To-be-done:
It smiling 'rose, and bless'd the Great-Three-One;
The New-erected World to Man is giv'n,
Tenant for Life Probationer of Heav'n,
Once to regain that bright Etherial Coast,
And fill those Seats Seditious Angels lost.
Learn Mortals, Learn from so Severe a Fate,
With cautious Fear, to Shun the dang'rous Height!
Adorn your Orb, Shine in your proper Sphere,
And thence to Heav'n aspire, nor Danger fear,
Since ev'n Ambition's self is Vertue here.
How easy to Advise how hard to Learn,
Tho' Precept both, and dire Example warn!
'Twas Pride alone your Beauties could Deface,
O sole Primeval-Pair of Humane Race!
You after Pow'r and Knowledge rang'd too far,
At Godhead grasp'd, and fell to what we are.
How did you walk, till then, thro' Eden's Grove,
Secure in Truth, and Innocence, and Love?
Or under the broad Platan's Friendly Shade
Or Mantling Vine's, on Mossy Couches laid,
Near the soft Murmur of some bubling Spring
With Angel-Guests Discourse, with Angels Sing!
O were you not too-bless'd! and could you Know
And yet Forget the Pow'r that made you so,
And in Connubial Fondness lost, were grown
At first each others Idols, then your own?
How soon by Satan's Guile your Vertue fail'd!
He Came, he Saw, he Tempted, and prevail'd.
Lament the Groves, Laments the ruin'd Ball,
And Pity mourns to see your hapless Fall.
Tho' Precept both, and dire Example warn!
'Twas Pride alone your Beauties could Deface,
O sole Primeval-Pair of Humane Race!
You after Pow'r and Knowledge rang'd too far,
At Godhead grasp'd, and fell to what we are.
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Secure in Truth, and Innocence, and Love?
Or under the broad Platan's Friendly Shade
Or Mantling Vine's, on Mossy Couches laid,
Near the soft Murmur of some bubling Spring
With Angel-Guests Discourse, with Angels Sing!
O were you not too-bless'd! and could you Know
And yet Forget the Pow'r that made you so,
And in Connubial Fondness lost, were grown
At first each others Idols, then your own?
How soon by Satan's Guile your Vertue fail'd!
He Came, he Saw, he Tempted, and prevail'd.
Lament the Groves, Laments the ruin'd Ball,
And Pity mourns to see your hapless Fall.
Ambition thus Unpeopled half the Skies,
Thus lost our Common Parents Paradice;
Their Seats, as was their Nature, widely chang'd,
For Blissful Bow'rs thro' Brakes and Thorns they rang'd;
For blooming Flow'rs which voluntary rose
Th' ill-scented Weed, and Warriour-Thistle grows:
Then Pain, and Want began, and mutual Jars,
And Strife, and fretting Guilt, and Embryo-Wars:
These propagated Seeds of Mischief grew,
Till the first Homicide his Brother Slew:
Despair had seiz'd the Founders of our Race
When they saw Death in Murder'd Abel's Face;
Steril to Dust had let their Dust return;
Nor Seth been born, nor had we Been, to mourn;
Had not the Promise of a Peaceful seed,
Victorious o're the Serpent's prostrate Head
Recurr'd to Mind, Calm'd either anxious Breast,
And Hopes of future Joys their present Ills redress'd.
Thus lost our Common Parents Paradice;
Their Seats, as was their Nature, widely chang'd,
For Blissful Bow'rs thro' Brakes and Thorns they rang'd;
For blooming Flow'rs which voluntary rose
Th' ill-scented Weed, and Warriour-Thistle grows:
Then Pain, and Want began, and mutual Jars,
And Strife, and fretting Guilt, and Embryo-Wars:
These propagated Seeds of Mischief grew,
Till the first Homicide his Brother Slew:
Despair had seiz'd the Founders of our Race
When they saw Death in Murder'd Abel's Face;
Steril to Dust had let their Dust return;
Nor Seth been born, nor had we Been, to mourn;
Had not the Promise of a Peaceful seed,
Victorious o're the Serpent's prostrate Head
Recurr'd to Mind, Calm'd either anxious Breast,
And Hopes of future Joys their present Ills redress'd.
Desire of Nations! When wilt Thou appear?
When will Slow Time produce the Golden Year?
The Golden Year is Come, and PEACE is born:
Ye Sons of God, Hail ye the happy Morn
So long desir'd! All-hail your Princes Birth!
Proclaim your grateful Message-Peace on Earth!
The Gates of War begin a long Repose,
Nor Jar the Iron-Hinges as they close.
The joyous Suns while in just Course they rise
Here fix the bounds of centring Prophesies:
See the Stern Lion Sheath his poignant Claws,
Dandling the Kid between his rugged Paws!
The Bear, now tame, rests by the grazing Steer,
Unknowing that to Prey, as this to Fear:
The sportive Child, unhurt, unfenc'd with Charms,
Plays with the Asp that wantons round his Arms.
All but Reluctant Fiends that hear, rejoyce,
All Eccho Peace back to the Angel's Voice.
Behold I give you Pow'r, the Saviour said,
On Serpents and on Scorpions safe to tread,
The Basilisk you unappaul'd shall meet,
And trample Dragons underneath your Feet:
Thus to the Twelve, and bids 'em Peace proclaim
In His and in his mighty Father's Name:
Who soon, with these Instructions arm'd, disperse
The Saviour's Laws around the Universe:
Britain, by Rome discover'd, not possess'd
Was with the joyful Tidings early bless'd.
Fled hence the Demons when they heard from far,
Fled Taramis, the Fabled Thunderer.
What in revolving Centuries befel
At once were mournful and were long to tell:
How often Luxury has Discord bred,
The Monster-War on its bad Parent fed:
How oft Ambition has disturb'd our Rest,
While we of Ruin fond, have toil'd to be Unbless'd!
Whether our Isle the Lunar Influence guides,
And floats our Humours with her Swelling Tides;
Or we Heav'ns Bounty so profusely Share
W' had been too bless'd had Concord too been there.
Pardon, Dear Mother soil, if I Lament
What Heav'n alone entirely can prevent;
Those Ills which thy Capricious Clime infest,
And ev'n in Peace have oft deny'd thee Rest.
Hide me, O hide me in the silent Grave,
That equal Refuge to the Prince, and Slave,
Where, O my Soul, thou never more shalt hear
The hateful sound of Strife, th' Alarm of War!
Our rankling Wounds are so averse to Cure,
They hardly yet the gentlest Hand endure:
Tho' Royal Care with Kind and Prudent Zeal
Has lately Touch'd;—But still 'tis God must Heal.
O Father, Brother, Friend's endearing Name!
You once a Share of Tenderness cou'd claim,
But either are by Interest now engross'd,
Or in Confounding Party sunk and lost.
The Common Foe forgot, each Squadron bends
Their Arts and Arms against Intestine Friends:
With Looks Oblique they on each other Glare,
As Threatning Comets shake their flaming Hair,
Or Stars Malignant, boding Strife and War.
When will Slow Time produce the Golden Year?
The Golden Year is Come, and PEACE is born:
Ye Sons of God, Hail ye the happy Morn
So long desir'd! All-hail your Princes Birth!
Proclaim your grateful Message-Peace on Earth!
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Nor Jar the Iron-Hinges as they close.
The joyous Suns while in just Course they rise
Here fix the bounds of centring Prophesies:
See the Stern Lion Sheath his poignant Claws,
Dandling the Kid between his rugged Paws!
The Bear, now tame, rests by the grazing Steer,
Unknowing that to Prey, as this to Fear:
The sportive Child, unhurt, unfenc'd with Charms,
Plays with the Asp that wantons round his Arms.
All but Reluctant Fiends that hear, rejoyce,
All Eccho Peace back to the Angel's Voice.
Behold I give you Pow'r, the Saviour said,
On Serpents and on Scorpions safe to tread,
The Basilisk you unappaul'd shall meet,
And trample Dragons underneath your Feet:
Thus to the Twelve, and bids 'em Peace proclaim
In His and in his mighty Father's Name:
Who soon, with these Instructions arm'd, disperse
The Saviour's Laws around the Universe:
Britain, by Rome discover'd, not possess'd
Was with the joyful Tidings early bless'd.
Fled hence the Demons when they heard from far,
Fled Taramis, the Fabled Thunderer.
What in revolving Centuries befel
At once were mournful and were long to tell:
How often Luxury has Discord bred,
The Monster-War on its bad Parent fed:
How oft Ambition has disturb'd our Rest,
While we of Ruin fond, have toil'd to be Unbless'd!
Whether our Isle the Lunar Influence guides,
And floats our Humours with her Swelling Tides;
Or we Heav'ns Bounty so profusely Share
W' had been too bless'd had Concord too been there.
Pardon, Dear Mother soil, if I Lament
What Heav'n alone entirely can prevent;
Those Ills which thy Capricious Clime infest,
And ev'n in Peace have oft deny'd thee Rest.
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That equal Refuge to the Prince, and Slave,
Where, O my Soul, thou never more shalt hear
The hateful sound of Strife, th' Alarm of War!
Our rankling Wounds are so averse to Cure,
They hardly yet the gentlest Hand endure:
Tho' Royal Care with Kind and Prudent Zeal
Has lately Touch'd;—But still 'tis God must Heal.
O Father, Brother, Friend's endearing Name!
You once a Share of Tenderness cou'd claim,
But either are by Interest now engross'd,
Or in Confounding Party sunk and lost.
The Common Foe forgot, each Squadron bends
Their Arts and Arms against Intestine Friends:
With Looks Oblique they on each other Glare,
As Threatning Comets shake their flaming Hair,
Or Stars Malignant, boding Strife and War.
The Fathers—But no more!—If Some to blame,
The Curse of Cham's on him that spreads their Shame!
How Bless'd of Heav'n are those who backwards go,
And what they ought not, would not, will not Know!
Shall Brothers then in mutual Arms engage!
What Feud so deadly as Fraternal Rage!
If Truth Secure, Let sordid Int'rest go,
And he be Rich and Great who would be so!
Scramble for Crowns or Mitres as they fall
T'adorn a Scutcheon at his Funeral.
The Curse of Cham's on him that spreads their Shame!
How Bless'd of Heav'n are those who backwards go,
And what they ought not, would not, will not Know!
Shall Brothers then in mutual Arms engage!
What Feud so deadly as Fraternal Rage!
If Truth Secure, Let sordid Int'rest go,
And he be Rich and Great who would be so!
Scramble for Crowns or Mitres as they fall
T'adorn a Scutcheon at his Funeral.
Happy the Man who, Form'd and made to Please,
Engages without Pain, is Kind with Ease!
And next to Him, tho' born with Stars severe,
Who rugged Nature polishes with Care:
To Vice which Blinds the Wise, and cramps the Brave,
Or to that Tyrant Self; no more a Slave.
Engages without Pain, is Kind with Ease!
And next to Him, tho' born with Stars severe,
Who rugged Nature polishes with Care:
To Vice which Blinds the Wise, and cramps the Brave,
Or to that Tyrant Self; no more a Slave.
Vice is Contagious Madness: Swift it flies,
Poisons the Air, and taints the hostile Skies:
Who reach its Verge, draw in Infectious Breath,
With Slow Disease, or a compendious Death.
No Poisonous Beast so sure Destruction gives
As frantic Man himself on Man derives.
To short-liv'd Frenzy they too oft decline
In Gloomy Intervals of Rage or Wine;
Their Blood with more then vital ardor burns,
Ferments, and all are Mohauks in their turns:
When higher wrought, th' increasing Venom reigns
Incurable, and Triumphs in their Brains.
With Rage Canine they Snarl, and Bark; and Rend
Themselves, and more their too-officious Friend.
Mad mournful Mirth enchants the Fair and Young:
So those whom the Tarantula's have Stung
In leud Discourse unblushing find delight,
Detest the Thing in Black, a sad, ill-omen'd Sight.
Sooth'd with soft Lydian Airs they now advance,
And loose as Bacchanalian Furies dance;
'Till with the Frolic tir'd, and out of Breath
Their certain Cure is Weariness or Death.
Poisons the Air, and taints the hostile Skies:
Who reach its Verge, draw in Infectious Breath,
With Slow Disease, or a compendious Death.
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As frantic Man himself on Man derives.
To short-liv'd Frenzy they too oft decline
In Gloomy Intervals of Rage or Wine;
Their Blood with more then vital ardor burns,
Ferments, and all are Mohauks in their turns:
When higher wrought, th' increasing Venom reigns
Incurable, and Triumphs in their Brains.
With Rage Canine they Snarl, and Bark; and Rend
Themselves, and more their too-officious Friend.
Mad mournful Mirth enchants the Fair and Young:
So those whom the Tarantula's have Stung
In leud Discourse unblushing find delight,
Detest the Thing in Black, a sad, ill-omen'd Sight.
Sooth'd with soft Lydian Airs they now advance,
And loose as Bacchanalian Furies dance;
'Till with the Frolic tir'd, and out of Breath
Their certain Cure is Weariness or Death.
Others for Love delirious grown, or Fame,
As from Arachne's Sons their Poison came,
With Fury blind in mortal Fight contend,
Nor hear or know their Father or their Friend:
And what's the glorious Prize for which they Dye?
'Tis some fair Cobweb, or a Painted Flie.
As from Arachne's Sons their Poison came,
With Fury blind in mortal Fight contend,
Nor hear or know their Father or their Friend:
And what's the glorious Prize for which they Dye?
'Tis some fair Cobweb, or a Painted Flie.
But Madder sure the Wretch than all the rest,
With basest Fear, and blackest Fiends possess'd,
Who takes a far more desp'rate Leap then He
That Etna plumb'd for Immortalitie,
And when with Want or Pain severely press'd
With his own Hand gores his own faithless Breast.
How well Reveng'd He on the Partial Skies,
How fierce, how hard, how like a Cato dies!
So when Imprison'd by Surrounding Fires,
A while the Scorpion from their Heat retires:
But when th' encroaching Flame more fiercely glows
Mad with Despair perversely valiant grows:
By his own fatal Sting transfix'd he lies,
And with true Roman-Fear the Pois'nous Insect dies.
With basest Fear, and blackest Fiends possess'd,
Who takes a far more desp'rate Leap then He
That Etna plumb'd for Immortalitie,
And when with Want or Pain severely press'd
With his own Hand gores his own faithless Breast.
How well Reveng'd He on the Partial Skies,
How fierce, how hard, how like a Cato dies!
So when Imprison'd by Surrounding Fires,
A while the Scorpion from their Heat retires:
But when th' encroaching Flame more fiercely glows
Mad with Despair perversely valiant grows:
By his own fatal Sting transfix'd he lies,
And with true Roman-Fear the Pois'nous Insect dies.
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Fair Truth, fair Vertue! whither were you fled?
Return, now Peace erects her radiant Head!
To Anna's Court, your Fav'rite Seat, Repair,
And ever shine, as friendly Rivals there!
Dispel the Mists of Error and of Vice,
And make her happy Isle a Paradice.
I see a bright Reverse of Things appear,
And all that's Fair and Beauteous flourish here.
The Arts of Peace shall find a just Regard,
And modest worth no more escape Reward:
Foul Scandal, Bound and Gagg'd, no longer roar,
With hideous Din affright the World no more:
Subjects shall in their Princes Mirrour dress,
And Europe envy Britain's Happiness.
See on the Throne Majestic Meekness Shine,
The Martyr's Blood confess'd in every Line!
She lays her Terrors by, her Sword she Sheaths,
And Pardon only now, and Blessings breaths.
Say ye attendant Heavenly Ministers!
Is She in Peace's Form, or Peace in Hers?
Can such persisting Goodness ever fail?
It will, it must at last on All prevail.
Let Her Victorious Mercy stand Confess'd,
And let no Briton longer be Unbless'd!
Why should we fondly reach beyond our Sphere,
And Mortals with their Maker interfere?
Into the Ark of his Foreknowledge pry,
Altho' the Sacrilegious Gazers Die?
Can Man direct his Councils, or withstand,
Or wrest the Scepter from th' Almighty's Hand?
Then let us his own World's Disposal yield
To him who only can the Thunder weild:
The while, too deep for ought but Death to part,
Be Anna's Name inscrib'd on every Subject's Heart.
How fond of Life who wishes to Survive,
And longer then the Nation's Breath would live!
Guard Her, ye Angels! Guard your precious Charge!
May Mercy to Mankind Her Life enlarge!
Thro' many a rolling Age Her Years prolong,
And make Her ever Happy, ever Young!
While Heav'n and Anna reign, we rest Secure,
And may Her Reign the Length of Time endure!
No other Coronation may we need,
But still may She herself, herself Succeed;
Safe against Earth's and Hell's united Pow'rs
While Heav'n's Her Guarrantee, and She is ours.
Nor can our well-concerted Blessing's fail,
If Prudence ought, or Oaths, or Laws prevail,
Unless our clam'rous Crimes cut off th' Entail.
Hence then, ye Airy Jealousies; Disband
And haunt, in Dismal Forms, no more, the Land;
While all to whose Sick Fancies you appear'd
Look smiling round, and wonder why they fear'd;
As those who sinking in some pitchy Stream
O'erjoy'd awake to find 'twas but a Dream.
May doubting Minds resistless Light receive,
Surpriz'd with Blessings they can scarce believe.
May Albion Shine entire. Each Cloud away
Nor taint the Lustre of so fair a Day!
Let distant Tweed flow undisturb'd and clear,
Her Valiant Sons no more be fear'd or fear.
Be calm impetuous Ouze's noble Flood!
On my Lov'd Trent again let Halcyons brood!
Thro' Sheffield's large Demesnes on either side,
A num'rous Fleet of his own Cygnets glide,
And by fair Normanby, when wafted slow,
Admire Inverted Woods and lofty Tow'rs below.
Let Stormy Humber's Sea forget to roar,
And ev'n his Eagre gently kiss the Shore;
No more his Madding Waves their Banks forsake,
But Die away in a Smooth Silver Lake.
May Royal Thames no Storms or Tempests know,
But with a clear and equal Current flow:
Th' inestimable Pearl of Truth-divine
His Floating Castles waft beyond the Line;
And safe return'd, to his Augusta bear,
The Wealth of Peace, not Spoils or Scars of War;
While on her Brows new Spirey Turrets rise,
Whence Clouds of grateful Incense fill the Skies.
Nor will her Crowded Streets her Pomp contain:
The Air itself, a numerous joyful Train,
(How like the Holy Innocents!) shall boast,
Only out-number'd by the Heavenly Host.
What Tears of Joy! what Transports then shall flow
While Angels gaze above, and Men below!
While Earth to Heaven's Triumphal Hymns replies,
And Peace on Earth is Eccho'd from the Skies.
Return, now Peace erects her radiant Head!
To Anna's Court, your Fav'rite Seat, Repair,
And ever shine, as friendly Rivals there!
Dispel the Mists of Error and of Vice,
And make her happy Isle a Paradice.
I see a bright Reverse of Things appear,
And all that's Fair and Beauteous flourish here.
The Arts of Peace shall find a just Regard,
And modest worth no more escape Reward:
Foul Scandal, Bound and Gagg'd, no longer roar,
With hideous Din affright the World no more:
Subjects shall in their Princes Mirrour dress,
And Europe envy Britain's Happiness.
See on the Throne Majestic Meekness Shine,
The Martyr's Blood confess'd in every Line!
She lays her Terrors by, her Sword she Sheaths,
And Pardon only now, and Blessings breaths.
Say ye attendant Heavenly Ministers!
Is She in Peace's Form, or Peace in Hers?
Can such persisting Goodness ever fail?
It will, it must at last on All prevail.
Let Her Victorious Mercy stand Confess'd,
And let no Briton longer be Unbless'd!
Why should we fondly reach beyond our Sphere,
And Mortals with their Maker interfere?
Into the Ark of his Foreknowledge pry,
Altho' the Sacrilegious Gazers Die?
Can Man direct his Councils, or withstand,
Or wrest the Scepter from th' Almighty's Hand?
Then let us his own World's Disposal yield
To him who only can the Thunder weild:
The while, too deep for ought but Death to part,
Be Anna's Name inscrib'd on every Subject's Heart.
How fond of Life who wishes to Survive,
And longer then the Nation's Breath would live!
Guard Her, ye Angels! Guard your precious Charge!
May Mercy to Mankind Her Life enlarge!
10
And make Her ever Happy, ever Young!
While Heav'n and Anna reign, we rest Secure,
And may Her Reign the Length of Time endure!
No other Coronation may we need,
But still may She herself, herself Succeed;
Safe against Earth's and Hell's united Pow'rs
While Heav'n's Her Guarrantee, and She is ours.
Nor can our well-concerted Blessing's fail,
If Prudence ought, or Oaths, or Laws prevail,
Unless our clam'rous Crimes cut off th' Entail.
Hence then, ye Airy Jealousies; Disband
And haunt, in Dismal Forms, no more, the Land;
While all to whose Sick Fancies you appear'd
Look smiling round, and wonder why they fear'd;
As those who sinking in some pitchy Stream
O'erjoy'd awake to find 'twas but a Dream.
May doubting Minds resistless Light receive,
Surpriz'd with Blessings they can scarce believe.
May Albion Shine entire. Each Cloud away
Nor taint the Lustre of so fair a Day!
Let distant Tweed flow undisturb'd and clear,
Her Valiant Sons no more be fear'd or fear.
Be calm impetuous Ouze's noble Flood!
On my Lov'd Trent again let Halcyons brood!
Thro' Sheffield's large Demesnes on either side,
A num'rous Fleet of his own Cygnets glide,
And by fair Normanby, when wafted slow,
Admire Inverted Woods and lofty Tow'rs below.
Let Stormy Humber's Sea forget to roar,
And ev'n his Eagre gently kiss the Shore;
No more his Madding Waves their Banks forsake,
But Die away in a Smooth Silver Lake.
May Royal Thames no Storms or Tempests know,
But with a clear and equal Current flow:
Th' inestimable Pearl of Truth-divine
His Floating Castles waft beyond the Line;
And safe return'd, to his Augusta bear,
The Wealth of Peace, not Spoils or Scars of War;
11
Whence Clouds of grateful Incense fill the Skies.
Nor will her Crowded Streets her Pomp contain:
The Air itself, a numerous joyful Train,
(How like the Holy Innocents!) shall boast,
Only out-number'd by the Heavenly Host.
What Tears of Joy! what Transports then shall flow
While Angels gaze above, and Men below!
While Earth to Heaven's Triumphal Hymns replies,
And Peace on Earth is Eccho'd from the Skies.
Sweet is Deliv'rance to the long-oppress'd,
Ease after Pain, and after Labour, Rest;
After Long Winter's Blasts soft Vernal Air,
Good after Bad, Composure after Care;
A Lovely Calm when low'ring Tempests cease,
After Consuming War, reviving Peace.
Ease after Pain, and after Labour, Rest;
After Long Winter's Blasts soft Vernal Air,
Good after Bad, Composure after Care;
A Lovely Calm when low'ring Tempests cease,
After Consuming War, reviving Peace.
One only Bliss just Heav'n our Age denies,
Too soon reclaim'd by Irritated Skies:
GOD did His Part, a Royal Heir did give,
But we Sinn'd on, and wou'd not Let him Live.
(I'll Steal from Public Joy, but soon Return;
None shou'd, this happy Day, be seen to Mourn.)
Drop soft your Lilies, Virgins, as my Verse!
Drop Tears, Strow Roses, Silent, on his Herse!
O, Thou wer't Glocester—Dry each Stubborn Tear,
Stifle your Sighs, Lest the Great Mother hear.
Too soon reclaim'd by Irritated Skies:
GOD did His Part, a Royal Heir did give,
But we Sinn'd on, and wou'd not Let him Live.
(I'll Steal from Public Joy, but soon Return;
None shou'd, this happy Day, be seen to Mourn.)
Drop soft your Lilies, Virgins, as my Verse!
Drop Tears, Strow Roses, Silent, on his Herse!
O, Thou wer't Glocester—Dry each Stubborn Tear,
Stifle your Sighs, Lest the Great Mother hear.
It will not be, for Grief has still the Reins,
And tho' the Tide is pass'd the Swell remains.
Retire we then to the wise Pollio's Seat,
That Scene of all Agreeable and Great;
Where, in the Town, thick Rural Shades he sees,
And views the World in Emblematic Trees:
With deep Research their Polity Surveys,
Each Tribes Diseases and their Cures he weighs,
Conversing tho' retir'd, and scarcely there,
Amidst the fanning Breeze, and Vernal Air
One Moment intermits the Public Care.
Tho' long his weighty Thoughts intent remain
A Pleasing Interruption breaks their Chain:
See thro' the Grove a Shining Form appear,
The parting Shades Confess a Vertue near:
She, o'er th' Illumin'd Herb Majestic treads,
And in her Hand a Little-Love she leads:
Reflex their Image strikes the Hero's Sight,
He turns, and mingles in their Group of Light.
The Lovely Boy, with each Auspicious Grace,
And Promises of Greatness in his Face,
Ran Pleas'd, ran Smiling to his Sire's Embrace:
With Lips untaught, less-than-Half-Words he tries,
But more the Charmer prattles with his Eyes:
He rais'd the Infant-Honours of his Head,
Young blooming Joys around profusely shed,
And if he could have Spoke, he PEACE, had said.
And tho' the Tide is pass'd the Swell remains.
Retire we then to the wise Pollio's Seat,
That Scene of all Agreeable and Great;
Where, in the Town, thick Rural Shades he sees,
And views the World in Emblematic Trees:
With deep Research their Polity Surveys,
Each Tribes Diseases and their Cures he weighs,
Conversing tho' retir'd, and scarcely there,
Amidst the fanning Breeze, and Vernal Air
One Moment intermits the Public Care.
Tho' long his weighty Thoughts intent remain
A Pleasing Interruption breaks their Chain:
12
The parting Shades Confess a Vertue near:
She, o'er th' Illumin'd Herb Majestic treads,
And in her Hand a Little-Love she leads:
Reflex their Image strikes the Hero's Sight,
He turns, and mingles in their Group of Light.
The Lovely Boy, with each Auspicious Grace,
And Promises of Greatness in his Face,
Ran Pleas'd, ran Smiling to his Sire's Embrace:
With Lips untaught, less-than-Half-Words he tries,
But more the Charmer prattles with his Eyes:
He rais'd the Infant-Honours of his Head,
Young blooming Joys around profusely shed,
And if he could have Spoke, he PEACE, had said.
To these, what noble Figure shall we joyn,
With equal warmth, to fill the Bold Design?
Joyn Him, who still of Inward Peace possess'd,
Who feeds no Warring Vices in his Breast:
Firm fix'd on Wisdom's and on Vertue's Base,
Father of Peace, a Friend to Human Race:
Serene in Wounds; Impenetrably Calm;
Whose Hands are Healing, and whose Words are Balm:
And long may such Supporters Guard the Throne,
For Royal Anna's Welfare and our own!
In Council and in Treasury Preside,
The Helm of State, with Hands unerring Guide:
Their weighty Cares be Crown'd with wish'd Success,
And Them and Peace Succeeding Ages Bless!
With equal warmth, to fill the Bold Design?
Joyn Him, who still of Inward Peace possess'd,
Who feeds no Warring Vices in his Breast:
Firm fix'd on Wisdom's and on Vertue's Base,
Father of Peace, a Friend to Human Race:
Serene in Wounds; Impenetrably Calm;
Whose Hands are Healing, and whose Words are Balm:
And long may such Supporters Guard the Throne,
For Royal Anna's Welfare and our own!
In Council and in Treasury Preside,
The Helm of State, with Hands unerring Guide:
Their weighty Cares be Crown'd with wish'd Success,
And Them and Peace Succeeding Ages Bless!
Nor ever may this Happy Calm be pass'd,
But Wars, and ev'n their Rumours now outlast!
O King-Messia! Vindicate thy Throne!
Assert thy Father's Empire and thy own,
'Till Vice and Error, thine and Peace's Foes
Seald in th' Unbottom'd Pit from whence they 'rose.
O're Subject-Hearts that with Delight obey,
Spread thro' the willing World thy gentle Sway!
This Is thy Kingdom; This shall never cease,
Crown'd and Consummate with ETERNAL PEACE.
But Wars, and ev'n their Rumours now outlast!
O King-Messia! Vindicate thy Throne!
Assert thy Father's Empire and thy own,
'Till Vice and Error, thine and Peace's Foes
Seald in th' Unbottom'd Pit from whence they 'rose.
O're Subject-Hearts that with Delight obey,
Spread thro' the willing World thy gentle Sway!
This Is thy Kingdom; This shall never cease,
Crown'd and Consummate with ETERNAL PEACE.
FINIS.
| An Hymn on Peace | |