 | The poetical works of George Keate |  |
157
AN ADDRESS FROM THE THAMES.
Presented to Messrs. Adam, On the Day when they first came to their new House in the Adelphi, 1771.
'Twas as The Brothers at that Pile arriv'd
Where ancient Elegance and Taste reviv'd,
Midst the broad Tide beneath that circling flows,
Stretch'd on a sedgy Couch, Old Thames arose;
'Round him his Swans their snowy Plumage rear'd,
A golden Trident at his Side appear'd;
Upon his Moss-grown Urn his Arm was spread,
And drooping Oziers crown'd his hoary Head—
Wide o'er Augusta's Tow'rs his Eyes he threw;
His Time-worn Features brighten'd at the View.
'Twas then Th'Adelphi caught his ravish'd Sight,
He gaz'd—he smil'd—Still fixing with Delight
Thrice he the Brothers hail'd, and thus began,
While down his Beard the trickling Water ran.
Where ancient Elegance and Taste reviv'd,
Midst the broad Tide beneath that circling flows,
Stretch'd on a sedgy Couch, Old Thames arose;
'Round him his Swans their snowy Plumage rear'd,
A golden Trident at his Side appear'd;
158
And drooping Oziers crown'd his hoary Head—
Wide o'er Augusta's Tow'rs his Eyes he threw;
His Time-worn Features brighten'd at the View.
'Twas then Th'Adelphi caught his ravish'd Sight,
He gaz'd—he smil'd—Still fixing with Delight
Thrice he the Brothers hail'd, and thus began,
While down his Beard the trickling Water ran.
“You whom Arts and Genius crown,
“Welcome, welcome to your own;
“You, who out of Ruin raise
“All the Taste of ancient Days!
“From my oozy Bed I came
“To be Witness of your Fame!
“Rude, but grateful is my Strain,
“Men like you adorn my Reign.
“Long and happy here reside
“Great Supporters of my Pride.
“Welcome, welcome to your own;
“You, who out of Ruin raise
“All the Taste of ancient Days!
“From my oozy Bed I came
“To be Witness of your Fame!
“Rude, but grateful is my Strain,
“Men like you adorn my Reign.
“Long and happy here reside
“Great Supporters of my Pride.
159
“Time has been when o'er my Strand
“Proudest Nobles of the Land
“Dwellings rais'd with Cost profuse,
“Not for Elegance, but Use;
“Cumbrous Loads that mov'd my Rage!
“Labours of a darken'd Age!—
“You, their partial Plan resine,
“Elegance and Use combine.—
“Happy on my Banks reside
“Great Supporters of my Pride.
“Proudest Nobles of the Land
“Dwellings rais'd with Cost profuse,
“Not for Elegance, but Use;
“Cumbrous Loads that mov'd my Rage!
“Labours of a darken'd Age!—
“You, their partial Plan resine,
“Elegance and Use combine.—
“Happy on my Banks reside
“Great Supporters of my Pride.
“Jealous, have I heard too long
“Tiber flow in ev'ry Song,
“Arno's Torrent, Brenta's Stream
“Live each lavish Muse's Theme:
“They shall triumph now no more,
“Equal Glories grace my Shore.
“Rear'd by you, shall many a Pile
“O'er my Silver Waters smile;
“Happy on my Banks reside
“Great Supporters of my Pride.
“Tiber flow in ev'ry Song,
“Arno's Torrent, Brenta's Stream
“Live each lavish Muse's Theme:
“They shall triumph now no more,
“Equal Glories grace my Shore.
160
“O'er my Silver Waters smile;
“Happy on my Banks reside
“Great Supporters of my Pride.
“As in Homage, ev'ry Morn
“I'll your Noble Work adorn,
“On my chrystal Bosom show
“Hills that nod, and Skies that glow;
“Pouring forth at each Return
“Health, and Plenty from my Urn.—
“Long and happy here reside
“Great Supporters of my Pride!
“You whom Arts and Genius crown,
“Once more, welcome to your own.”
“I'll your Noble Work adorn,
“On my chrystal Bosom show
“Hills that nod, and Skies that glow;
“Pouring forth at each Return
“Health, and Plenty from my Urn.—
“Long and happy here reside
“Great Supporters of my Pride!
“You whom Arts and Genius crown,
“Once more, welcome to your own.”
He ceas'd, yet turn'd to take a parting Look,
Then with an out-stretch'd Hand his Trident took,
And wav'd it round;—Obedient to his Will.
His Swans drew close, the ambient Tide lay still;
And whilst aloft th'attentive Brothers stood,
Down sunk the ancient Monarch of the Flood.
Then with an out-stretch'd Hand his Trident took,
161
His Swans drew close, the ambient Tide lay still;
And whilst aloft th'attentive Brothers stood,
Down sunk the ancient Monarch of the Flood.
| The poetical works of George Keate | |