Verses to the Lord Carteret Occasioned by the present conspiracy. By a Gentleman of Cambridge [i.e. George Sewell] |
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 | Verses to the Lord Carteret |  |
VERSES TO THE LORD CARTERET, Occasioned by the Present Conspiracy.
Since
Senates safe in legal Rights rejoice,
And rescu'd Nations swell the Public Voice,
Since GEORGE serene looks down on Faction's Blast,
Why are the Muses in their Duty last?
Doubt they fit Patrons of the loyal Lyre?
Carteret will hear, if Phoebus but inspire.
Carteret in Council, as in Science prov'd,
Loving the Muse, and of the Muse belov'd,
By whom the Chair of Wit is best supply'd,
Since Dorset, Rival of Mæcenas, dy'd.
To him begin, nor fear from partial Fate
The Hiss of Envy, or the Frown of Hate.
And rescu'd Nations swell the Public Voice,
Since GEORGE serene looks down on Faction's Blast,
Why are the Muses in their Duty last?
Doubt they fit Patrons of the loyal Lyre?
Carteret will hear, if Phoebus but inspire.
2
Loving the Muse, and of the Muse belov'd,
By whom the Chair of Wit is best supply'd,
Since Dorset, Rival of Mæcenas, dy'd.
To him begin, nor fear from partial Fate
The Hiss of Envy, or the Frown of Hate.
Where will Sedition drive her giddy Carr,
Where spread her Plagues, and Violence of War?
Behold! before the madding Fury fly,
The Cut-throat Whisper, and Impostor Lie,
Dissembl'd Duty, and pretended Wrongs,
False Fear, and Clamour of a thousand Tongues,
While Night-born Libel arms the motley Throng,
Drags in dull Prose, or sinks in heavy Song!
But who are they, far blackest of the Train,
Thirsty of Blood, and sedulous of Gain;
Whose double Visages like Janus part?
Apostate Faith, and Perjury of Heart.
Where spread her Plagues, and Violence of War?
Behold! before the madding Fury fly,
The Cut-throat Whisper, and Impostor Lie,
Dissembl'd Duty, and pretended Wrongs,
False Fear, and Clamour of a thousand Tongues,
While Night-born Libel arms the motley Throng,
Drags in dull Prose, or sinks in heavy Song!
But who are they, far blackest of the Train,
Thirsty of Blood, and sedulous of Gain;
Whose double Visages like Janus part?
Apostate Faith, and Perjury of Heart.
Britain! for what imaginary Crimes,
Are these the Product of thy happy Climes?
Thy Altars—Shine they with diminish'd Light,
Or fear the Shadows of a Romish Night?
While GEORGE defends, fear thou no Romish Gloom;
Thy self must court thy own Destroyer, Rome.
In spite of Cæsar's or the Senate's Name,
The Traitress Vestal might betray the Flame.
Are these the Product of thy happy Climes?
3
Or fear the Shadows of a Romish Night?
While GEORGE defends, fear thou no Romish Gloom;
Thy self must court thy own Destroyer, Rome.
In spite of Cæsar's or the Senate's Name,
The Traitress Vestal might betray the Flame.
White Peace, and Plenty bountiful of Hand,
Pour forth their mix'd Abundance on the Land,
Commerce improv'd, thy Fleets securely ride,
And foreign Riches flow with ev'ry Tide.
Are these but gather'd for the Spoiler's Prey?
The Peasant's Labour, for the Plunderer's Pay?
Must the Night-robber (bred to Blood and Ease)
Consume the far-sought Harvest of the Seas?
Turns all thy Anger on thy self alone?
No Breast to wound, fair Country! but thy own?
Pour forth their mix'd Abundance on the Land,
Commerce improv'd, thy Fleets securely ride,
And foreign Riches flow with ev'ry Tide.
Are these but gather'd for the Spoiler's Prey?
The Peasant's Labour, for the Plunderer's Pay?
Must the Night-robber (bred to Blood and Ease)
Consume the far-sought Harvest of the Seas?
Turns all thy Anger on thy self alone?
No Breast to wound, fair Country! but thy own?
Again behold! (if yet thy Eye unpain'd
Can view his Presence, whom thy Tongue prophan'd)
See, bold Rebellion, thy just Monarch's Face,
Awe mix'd with Mildness, Majesty with Grace;
Looks so divine, unspeaking, might command,
And wrest the Dagger from the Traitor's Hand;
At once convert the meditating Foe,
Tho' Papal Curses wing'd the destin'd Blow.
Yet He, (let foreign Climes with Wonder read,
For foreign Climes abhorr'd the bloody Deed)
He, so Conspiracy in Rage decreed,
The King, the Father of the Land must bleed.
For which of all his many Blessings past,
Are these, Ungrateful, thy Returns at last?
For his strong Aid in evil Days implor'd,
For Faith establish'd, or for Peace restor'd?
For his mild Clemency to Thousands shown,
Sparing their Blood who would have spilt his own?
Is it that Envy sees with mutual Bliss,
Freedom and Property, Twin-Sisters, kiss?
That Mercy shines, where Justice keeps in Awe,
And Equity corrects the Frown of Law?
Or does the Witchcraft of Rebellion strive
To see how long, how much He can forgive?
All this unblushing Faction can sustain,
The Guilt unfinish'd is her only Pain.—
Can view his Presence, whom thy Tongue prophan'd)
See, bold Rebellion, thy just Monarch's Face,
Awe mix'd with Mildness, Majesty with Grace;
4
And wrest the Dagger from the Traitor's Hand;
At once convert the meditating Foe,
Tho' Papal Curses wing'd the destin'd Blow.
Yet He, (let foreign Climes with Wonder read,
For foreign Climes abhorr'd the bloody Deed)
He, so Conspiracy in Rage decreed,
The King, the Father of the Land must bleed.
For which of all his many Blessings past,
Are these, Ungrateful, thy Returns at last?
For his strong Aid in evil Days implor'd,
For Faith establish'd, or for Peace restor'd?
For his mild Clemency to Thousands shown,
Sparing their Blood who would have spilt his own?
Is it that Envy sees with mutual Bliss,
Freedom and Property, Twin-Sisters, kiss?
That Mercy shines, where Justice keeps in Awe,
And Equity corrects the Frown of Law?
Or does the Witchcraft of Rebellion strive
To see how long, how much He can forgive?
All this unblushing Faction can sustain,
The Guilt unfinish'd is her only Pain.—
5
Yet could but Folly see, or Rage attend,
Where could their Hopes, but in their Ruin, end?
For what could all their summon'd Legions bring
To aid their mimic Pageant of a King?
Nought could he do, or dare,—but look from far,
Slumber with Saints, and dream of Crowns and War.
O Chief renown'd! O Sword unstain'd in Fight!
Who shall the Wonders of thy Reign recite,
Who twice for long-expected Empire drew,
Twice saw the distant Foe—and seeing flew?
Where could their Hopes, but in their Ruin, end?
For what could all their summon'd Legions bring
To aid their mimic Pageant of a King?
Nought could he do, or dare,—but look from far,
Slumber with Saints, and dream of Crowns and War.
O Chief renown'd! O Sword unstain'd in Fight!
Who shall the Wonders of thy Reign recite,
Who twice for long-expected Empire drew,
Twice saw the distant Foe—and seeing flew?
Not so, Great KING, thy military Band,
Brave Souls! as us'd to Conquest as Command,
Who o'er the Flandrian Fields their Trophies spread,
Where Marlbrô' pointed, or Cadogan led;
Who trod undaunted the Death-treasur'd Mine,
(Such thine, O Withers, and such, Cobham, thine.)
As these on Sarum's Plain their Lord survey'd,
Old British Glories seem again display'd;
He look'd an Edward in his Garter'd Pride,
And WALLIA's semblant Prince adorn'd his Side.
O SIRE belov'd! O SON of martial Fire,
Smile on the Raptures that your Worths inspire!
So may some future Addison arise,
Raise high your Fame, and mix it with the Skies:
With Admiration be your Blessing heard,
To William's Fav'rite Name be yours preferr'd,
Great as the First, and Glorious as the Third!
Brave Souls! as us'd to Conquest as Command,
Who o'er the Flandrian Fields their Trophies spread,
Where Marlbrô' pointed, or Cadogan led;
Who trod undaunted the Death-treasur'd Mine,
(Such thine, O Withers, and such, Cobham, thine.)
As these on Sarum's Plain their Lord survey'd,
Old British Glories seem again display'd;
He look'd an Edward in his Garter'd Pride,
And WALLIA's semblant Prince adorn'd his Side.
6
Smile on the Raptures that your Worths inspire!
So may some future Addison arise,
Raise high your Fame, and mix it with the Skies:
With Admiration be your Blessing heard,
To William's Fav'rite Name be yours preferr'd,
Great as the First, and Glorious as the Third!
Where now, Conspiracy, wilt thou retire,
Where hide the poison'd Blade, or smother'd Fire?
How wilt thou, serpentine in Cunning, fly
The sleepless Vigilance of Townshend's Eye?
What Veil, what Colour o'er thy Treasons draw,
When Parker judges in well-argu'd Law?
Or Walpole's Spirit, tow'ring o'er his Foes,
In the full Stream of Latian Tully flows?
When Raymond's Skill thy subtle Wiles unwreaths,
Or, Eloquence! thy Soul in Harcourt breathes?
Where hide the poison'd Blade, or smother'd Fire?
How wilt thou, serpentine in Cunning, fly
The sleepless Vigilance of Townshend's Eye?
What Veil, what Colour o'er thy Treasons draw,
When Parker judges in well-argu'd Law?
Or Walpole's Spirit, tow'ring o'er his Foes,
In the full Stream of Latian Tully flows?
When Raymond's Skill thy subtle Wiles unwreaths,
Or, Eloquence! thy Soul in Harcourt breathes?
While these, Great PRINCE, their 'pointed Stations fill,
Vain is the Confidence of Home-bred Ill.
Yet were they weak, as they in Pow'r transcend,
Superior Ministers thy Throne defend,
While Providence still gives thee new Supplies
Of Arms and Hearts from Carolina's Eyes,
Whose propagated Charms adorn her Race,
And plant Thee Guardian Angels in each Face.
Vain is the Confidence of Home-bred Ill.
Yet were they weak, as they in Pow'r transcend,
Superior Ministers thy Throne defend,
7
Of Arms and Hearts from Carolina's Eyes,
Whose propagated Charms adorn her Race,
And plant Thee Guardian Angels in each Face.
FINIS.
| Verses to the Lord Carteret | |