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To Lord Bellamont when entering Governour of the Massachusetts.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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157

To Lord Bellamont when entering Governour of the Massachusetts.

by Ben. Thompson.
Were I sole sov'reign of rare Fancies now,
All to your Merits Should with Rev'rence bow.

Transcendent Sir,

Your Stamp is royal; Your Commissions Rays
From loyal Hearts demand loud Thanks, high Praise.
Our Senators with publick Cares so tir'd,
With chearfullness resign to you desird.
Accept a poor Mans Thanks, a rural Bitt,
E're you arrive the Festivalls of Witt.
The Traveller where Wine's not to be had,
With a Cup of cold Water's often glad.
Since Harvards Libertys we fear are lost,
And Hasty-Pudding's Servd in stead of roast.
I've seen some feasted and placd in the Chair
And treated as I thought with Treatment rare:
But what was in the Pot he who this writ,
Tasting not once thereof, Still turnd the Spit.
We hope your Grandeur, for whom all have prayd,
Shall never lack our Love, our Purse, our Aid.
We bless our King; we thank the Waves and Wind,
That to our Sinking State have been So kind:
To land your Person, Ship'd by Grace of God.
Our loyal Hearts bespeak your long Abode.
Had you arriv'd Some hundred Years agoe,
The naked Tribes with knotty Clubbs and Bow
Storming your canvas'd Whale, with spears Head tryd
Whether your Timber had been Soul-ifyd.
An antient Chicataubuts Smoaky Ghost,
Once Lord of all this Soil and dreary Coast
Awakend by the Triumph of this Day
Hearing your Lordship was to come this Way,
Beggd Pluto's Leave, but that it would affright
To testifie his Joy at this fair Sight.
Here's running, riding, pressing hard to See
A blazing Beam darting from Majesty.
And who among whole thousands can do less,

158

Than for this Voi'ge thank you and Heav'n bless?
Whilst to your Lordship we our Gratias render,
Poor Emmett I tremble as an Offender.
But gen'rous Souls o'er look a World of Faults.
The Heart well trimd, the Pen more rarely halts.
Fam'd Agawam, who once drew salem Fair
Sure prophecyd this Interview so rare.
So what in jest with his Sharp Awl he wrote
Is in good Earnest to our Quarters brought.
Mountains bare-headed Stand; Each fertile Field,
When washd with Showers will rich presents yield.
Adopt this People as we ready be;
An Eden So long hid you'll quickly See.
Deep Mines their Riches tender; Gardens Flowers;
Their Sprawling Vines Stretch out to make you Bowers.
Charles River Swoln with Joys, o'er flows with Thanks:
And Sends his golden Trouts up winding Banks.
Old Merimack was ne'er So glad before:
And casts up Salmon free cost on the Shore.
Deep Conges drop the Elm; tall Cedars bow-
And Corydon to gaze deserts the Plough.
Damoetas his Nown Self, had hither rid,
But that he's run with Speed to fetch a Kid.
To make this Country Treat more Solemn up
Brisk Thesiylis comes panting with a Cup
Of dainty Syllabub: Sweet Amaryllis
Her Flask replete with Rose and Daffodyl.
Down at your Ladys Feet her self she flings;
Whilst Daphne, in her Strains, your Welcome sings.
And not one Face in all this Grand Convent
But Smiles forth Tokens of their full Content.
Brisk sons of Mars, Valours right Heirs, all round,
Your modest Arms this Day are richly crownd.
A General you have from Europe blown
Whose very Sight might make Quebeck your own
Although With Wrinkled Age my Colours furld,
Under his Conduct we'd soon storm that World.
Pardon, fair Sir, that many Thousand Meet
To lay a Province' Welcomes at your Feet.
A City Treaty for your Worth remains

159

By Potent Purses and more Powerfull Brains.
I'll to my Coblers Den, with Leave retire:
And if your Grandeur Frowns, there I'll expire.