A poem humbly inscribed To His Royal Highness Prince Frederic On His Safe Arrival in Great Britain, And on His being Created Prince of Wales. By L. Eusden |
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 | A poem humbly inscribed To His Royal Highness Prince Frederic |  |
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A POEM HUMBLY INSCRIBED To His Royal Highness Prince Frederic,
On His Safe ARRIVAL in Great Britain, And on His being Created Prince of Wales.
While
British Crowds their loyal Tongues employ,
And happy Albion feels a Mother's Joy;
While the big Pomp united Factions grace,
And ev'ry Heart is read in ev'ry Face;
Deign, blooming Prince, mid' Laurels to receive
This Wreath of Ivy, which the Muses give.
Accept a Cannister of vernal Flow'rs,
The Growth of Meadows 'round Palladian Tow'rs!
Pallas with Thee has early lov'd to dwell;
Not young Ulysses knew Her half so well.
Believe the Mirrour, that the Goddess brings,
And learn thy Image from her faithful Springs!
I may record the Wonders of thy Youth,
But still the Panegyric breaths the Truth.
And happy Albion feels a Mother's Joy;
While the big Pomp united Factions grace,
And ev'ry Heart is read in ev'ry Face;
Deign, blooming Prince, mid' Laurels to receive
This Wreath of Ivy, which the Muses give.
Accept a Cannister of vernal Flow'rs,
The Growth of Meadows 'round Palladian Tow'rs!
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Not young Ulysses knew Her half so well.
Believe the Mirrour, that the Goddess brings,
And learn thy Image from her faithful Springs!
I may record the Wonders of thy Youth,
But still the Panegyric breaths the Truth.
Begin, Ye Muses! sing with Ease your Lays:
For what so easie, as Desert to praise?
And if Strains, worthy of his Fame, you give,
Your Strains, immortal, with his Fame shall live.
For what so easie, as Desert to praise?
And if Strains, worthy of his Fame, you give,
Your Strains, immortal, with his Fame shall live.
Beyond four Lustrums scarce two Years have roul'd,
Since Fred'ric's infant Eyes could Light behold.
Let Grecian Writers tell, with Fiction proud,
How Zoröastres laugh'd, when born, a-loud:
Thy first auspicious Looks were sweetly mild,
And on thy smiling Parents, early smil'd.
Not ev'n thy Child-hood show'd a childish Mind,
Nor was to Gew-gaws, and to Toys enclin'd;
But lov'd to creep o'er Rows of gleamy Shields,
Or play with Turbants, won in Turkish Fields:
How pleas'd to view the Warrior-steed's fierce Bounds,
Or hear the deep mouth'd Trumpet's angry Sounds!
Since Fred'ric's infant Eyes could Light behold.
Let Grecian Writers tell, with Fiction proud,
How Zoröastres laugh'd, when born, a-loud:
Thy first auspicious Looks were sweetly mild,
And on thy smiling Parents, early smil'd.
Not ev'n thy Child-hood show'd a childish Mind,
Nor was to Gew-gaws, and to Toys enclin'd;
But lov'd to creep o'er Rows of gleamy Shields,
Or play with Turbants, won in Turkish Fields:
How pleas'd to view the Warrior-steed's fierce Bounds,
Or hear the deep mouth'd Trumpet's angry Sounds!
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Thy strengthen'd Nerves in bold Essays appear;
They twang the Yew, or lanch the whistling Spear,
Or climb rough Steeps, or stem the rapid Floods,
Or range, in quest of Savages, the Woods.
O! had'st Thou liv'd, when, by divine Command,
The fam'd Boar ravag'd fair Ætolia's Land!
The Virgin Huntress had mis-spent her Dart,
While first thy Spear tranfix'd the Monster's Heart:
Thou safe had'st giv'n the Spoil to sooth her Pride,
Althea had no fatal Brand apply'd,
Nor for his Present Meleäger dy'd.
They twang the Yew, or lanch the whistling Spear,
Or climb rough Steeps, or stem the rapid Floods,
Or range, in quest of Savages, the Woods.
O! had'st Thou liv'd, when, by divine Command,
The fam'd Boar ravag'd fair Ætolia's Land!
The Virgin Huntress had mis-spent her Dart,
While first thy Spear tranfix'd the Monster's Heart:
Thou safe had'st giv'n the Spoil to sooth her Pride,
Althea had no fatal Brand apply'd,
Nor for his Present Meleäger dy'd.
At length, thy Boy-hood past, the Youth is seen
With soft Deportment, and a graceful Mien.
Lo! ev'ry Art allures Thee with its Charms,
And all the Muses open all their Arms!
Again dead Heroes, and dead Poets bloom,
And Athens waits Thee with imperial Rome!
Old Hesiod, there, instructs the lab'ring Swains;
Or the gay Teian sports in melting Strains;
Or Flocks in flow'ry Vales the Shepherds feed,
Attentive to the Syracosian Reed;
Or the great Homer ruin'd Ilium sings,
The Fall of Empires, and the Fate of Kings:
In Wit luxuriant, Ovid, here, improves
Of Gods their Legends, and their secret Loves:
Or Horace, while his Breast Rome's Glories fire,
To Pindar's Height attunes the Roman Lyre,
Or ridicules the Follies of Mankind;
Or Juvenal upbraids the vicious Mind;
Or Statius dares in pompous Verse disclose
The hid Achilles, or the Theban Woes;
Or in fair Freedom's Cause bold Lucan swells;
Or Epic Tales the heav'nly Maro tells.
Use, with Delight, all variously supply,
What Paths to follow, and what Paths to fly.
Yet be, with Care, for Imitation read
Those shining Annals of th'Immortal Dead,
Where thy triumphant Ancestors are shown,
Unfabl'd Heroes, matchless in Renown!
With soft Deportment, and a graceful Mien.
Lo! ev'ry Art allures Thee with its Charms,
And all the Muses open all their Arms!
Again dead Heroes, and dead Poets bloom,
And Athens waits Thee with imperial Rome!
Old Hesiod, there, instructs the lab'ring Swains;
Or the gay Teian sports in melting Strains;
Or Flocks in flow'ry Vales the Shepherds feed,
Attentive to the Syracosian Reed;
Or the great Homer ruin'd Ilium sings,
The Fall of Empires, and the Fate of Kings:
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Of Gods their Legends, and their secret Loves:
Or Horace, while his Breast Rome's Glories fire,
To Pindar's Height attunes the Roman Lyre,
Or ridicules the Follies of Mankind;
Or Juvenal upbraids the vicious Mind;
Or Statius dares in pompous Verse disclose
The hid Achilles, or the Theban Woes;
Or in fair Freedom's Cause bold Lucan swells;
Or Epic Tales the heav'nly Maro tells.
Use, with Delight, all variously supply,
What Paths to follow, and what Paths to fly.
Yet be, with Care, for Imitation read
Those shining Annals of th'Immortal Dead,
Where thy triumphant Ancestors are shown,
Unfabl'd Heroes, matchless in Renown!
But when a Beard, o'er thy smooth Chin display'd,
Silent proclaim'd Thee Man with thicken'd Shade;
Thou, not with Antony, thy Hours would'st waste;
Like Cato, temperate, and, like Scipio, chaste.
Sages, long whiten'd with Time's awful Snow,
Renounce their Lectures, and thy Pupils grow:
They, whose Experience youthful Throngs revere,
To Thee with Wonder lend a list'ning Ear.
Silent proclaim'd Thee Man with thicken'd Shade;
Thou, not with Antony, thy Hours would'st waste;
Like Cato, temperate, and, like Scipio, chaste.
Sages, long whiten'd with Time's awful Snow,
Renounce their Lectures, and thy Pupils grow:
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To Thee with Wonder lend a list'ning Ear.
When thy swift Courser scours along the Plains,
Or high thy Steed croupades in manag'd Reins,
Æthon, whose Neighings chase away the Stars,
On whom the Morn her rosie Gates un-bars,
Sullen looks down, with envious Spleen possest,
And longs by such a Rider to be prest.
Or high thy Steed croupades in manag'd Reins,
Æthon, whose Neighings chase away the Stars,
On whom the Morn her rosie Gates un-bars,
Sullen looks down, with envious Spleen possest,
And longs by such a Rider to be prest.
An inborn Sweetness, and majestic Grace
Form a blest Mixture, and compose thy Face:
Thy Face in Paint, or rich Intaglios spy'd,
What Royal Nymph but glows to be a Bride?
With Atalanta Thee had Fate decreed
To run, Thou would'st no golden Apples need:
Her Eyes with Pleasure would her Feet betray,
And on thy Beauties gaze her Soul away.
Parthenopæus, brave, and fair, and young,
So shines, Papinius, in thy lofty Song.
Th'Idalian God was seen with such a Look,
When He, Ascanius, once thy Image took:
From his bright Eyes such lively Glories stray'd,
And o'er his Shoulders such sweet Ringlets play'd.
Form a blest Mixture, and compose thy Face:
Thy Face in Paint, or rich Intaglios spy'd,
What Royal Nymph but glows to be a Bride?
With Atalanta Thee had Fate decreed
To run, Thou would'st no golden Apples need:
Her Eyes with Pleasure would her Feet betray,
And on thy Beauties gaze her Soul away.
Parthenopæus, brave, and fair, and young,
So shines, Papinius, in thy lofty Song.
Th'Idalian God was seen with such a Look,
When He, Ascanius, once thy Image took:
From his bright Eyes such lively Glories stray'd,
And o'er his Shoulders such sweet Ringlets play'd.
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When Sail was hoisted from the Belgic Shore,
Blue Tritons smooth'd the Waves, and swam before.
A Boat, secure, along the conscious Main,
A Cæsar, or a Fred'ric can sustain.
Driv'n by kind Gales, the Shallop boom'd to Land,
And Thee intrusted to Harvicum's Strand.
Colonia next was gain'd, well-known to Fame,
Whence Lucius, Constantine, and Helen came:
A King, an Emperor, and an Empress born,
Make the proud Town on Cities look with Scorn.
Not small those Honours of the native Beds
To the first, glorious Three, crown'd, Christian Heads;
But let Her still with nobler Triumphs shine!
Her Bosome now warms, from the wintry Brine,
A Greater Prince, than the Great Constantine!
Blue Tritons smooth'd the Waves, and swam before.
A Boat, secure, along the conscious Main,
A Cæsar, or a Fred'ric can sustain.
Driv'n by kind Gales, the Shallop boom'd to Land,
And Thee intrusted to Harvicum's Strand.
Colonia next was gain'd, well-known to Fame,
Whence Lucius, Constantine, and Helen came:
A King, an Emperor, and an Empress born,
Make the proud Town on Cities look with Scorn.
Not small those Honours of the native Beds
To the first, glorious Three, crown'd, Christian Heads;
But let Her still with nobler Triumphs shine!
Her Bosome now warms, from the wintry Brine,
A Greater Prince, than the Great Constantine!
Thence to Augusta is thy Course decreed;
Not Julius ever journey'd with such Speed:
At Court arriv'd, Thou seek'st th'un-feign'd Embrace
Of thy glad Parents, and their beauteous Race.
Cumbria's Duke seen, such Joys Thou feel'st within,
As Joseph, when He saw young Benjamin.
Beneath thy Windows, 'ere the Morning-Ray,
Crowds press on Crowds, and chide the ling'ring Day.
Still from Excess of Love is Prudence weak;
With Zeal, un-timely, they thy Slumbers break:
In too loud Shouts their hearty Welcomes give,
And bid Britannia's future Hope long live!
Not Julius ever journey'd with such Speed:
At Court arriv'd, Thou seek'st th'un-feign'd Embrace
Of thy glad Parents, and their beauteous Race.
Cumbria's Duke seen, such Joys Thou feel'st within,
As Joseph, when He saw young Benjamin.
Beneath thy Windows, 'ere the Morning-Ray,
Crowds press on Crowds, and chide the ling'ring Day.
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With Zeal, un-timely, they thy Slumbers break:
In too loud Shouts their hearty Welcomes give,
And bid Britannia's future Hope long live!
Soon as the Light reveals Thee to their Eyes,
What sweet Ideas in their Bosoms rise!
Some in thy Features thy lost Grand-sire trace,
Some thy great Parents, blended in thy Face.
Others to antique Paintings turn their Thought,
Where the third Edward's Son adorns the Draught;
Thy Form declares, the Pencil might not feign,
But Wallia's Prince so look, in Courts again,
Laurel'd, and blooming, Cressy, from thy Plain!
What sweet Ideas in their Bosoms rise!
Some in thy Features thy lost Grand-sire trace,
Some thy great Parents, blended in thy Face.
Others to antique Paintings turn their Thought,
Where the third Edward's Son adorns the Draught;
Thy Form declares, the Pencil might not feign,
But Wallia's Prince so look, in Courts again,
Laurel'd, and blooming, Cressy, from thy Plain!
If now, invited by the temp'rate Air,
The Royal Branches to the Mall repair,
Un-number'd Multitudes, with lifted Hands,
Cry, For such Blessings Heav'n our Thanks demands!
In vain Physicians bid their Patients stay,
Coop'd in their Chambers, and not dare to stray:
Hither they come, and sateless with Delight,
Presage new Health from such a heav'nly Sight.
Who, tir'd with Life, beg'd Death, as a Reprieve,
Begin to wish, they now may longer live.
The marry'd Dames hence fruitful Omens take,
And Virgins rash, half-finish'd Vows forsake:
While from the Princely Train, diffus'd on All,
Soft Aspects, and propitious Glances fall.
Thus when the Pharian Priests display their Gods,
And proudly sweat beneath the sacred Loads,
Thousands on Thousands hide the Banks of Nile,
And catch from each kind Deity a Smile:
Cymbals, and joyful Shouts are heard around:
The Domes of Memphis echoe to the Sound.
The Royal Branches to the Mall repair,
Un-number'd Multitudes, with lifted Hands,
Cry, For such Blessings Heav'n our Thanks demands!
In vain Physicians bid their Patients stay,
Coop'd in their Chambers, and not dare to stray:
Hither they come, and sateless with Delight,
Presage new Health from such a heav'nly Sight.
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Begin to wish, they now may longer live.
The marry'd Dames hence fruitful Omens take,
And Virgins rash, half-finish'd Vows forsake:
While from the Princely Train, diffus'd on All,
Soft Aspects, and propitious Glances fall.
Thus when the Pharian Priests display their Gods,
And proudly sweat beneath the sacred Loads,
Thousands on Thousands hide the Banks of Nile,
And catch from each kind Deity a Smile:
Cymbals, and joyful Shouts are heard around:
The Domes of Memphis echoe to the Sound.
O Albion! who thy Pleasures can conceive
In Fancy, or what Climes remote believe?
Thy meanest Sons enjoy sincere Repose,
And for each Planter each press'd Vintage flows.
Oft, with the Widow's Cruse, thy Stores subside,
But, like that Cruse, still rise, a-new supply'd.
See! yellow Harvests in thy fields around!
With Grass thy Meads, with Fruits thy Gardens crown'd!
Beneath the Best of Kings, thy Bliss how great!
Now, by the Best of Princes, how compleat!
Not sweetest Music Orpheus could Inspire,
If but one String was absent from his Lyre.
Full is our System: the Seven Planets run,
And move, harmonious, 'round their Sire, the Sun.
In Fancy, or what Climes remote believe?
Thy meanest Sons enjoy sincere Repose,
And for each Planter each press'd Vintage flows.
Oft, with the Widow's Cruse, thy Stores subside,
But, like that Cruse, still rise, a-new supply'd.
See! yellow Harvests in thy fields around!
With Grass thy Meads, with Fruits thy Gardens crown'd!
Beneath the Best of Kings, thy Bliss how great!
Now, by the Best of Princes, how compleat!
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If but one String was absent from his Lyre.
Full is our System: the Seven Planets run,
And move, harmonious, 'round their Sire, the Sun.
Young Heroe! view this Isle's delightful State!
This may be truly styl'd, The Fortunate!
What long she wish'd, she now can, raptur'd, see,
In her own Arms her Royal Progeny!
Thy virtuous Parents strive again t'unfold
Saturnian Times, as sung by Bards of old.
On Others could their bright Example win,
Then might they seem the double Cherubin,
That keep this Land, like Eden, fenc'd from Sin.
This may be truly styl'd, The Fortunate!
What long she wish'd, she now can, raptur'd, see,
In her own Arms her Royal Progeny!
Thy virtuous Parents strive again t'unfold
Saturnian Times, as sung by Bards of old.
On Others could their bright Example win,
Then might they seem the double Cherubin,
That keep this Land, like Eden, fenc'd from Sin.
Once more, Thou Glorious Prince, Hail, and farewell!
No Strains a Nation's Ecstasies can tell.
So Latian Throngs with Pleasure stood entranc'd,
When on the Tyber Cybelé advanc'd:
Speechless by Wonder, Rome in rich Abodes
Receiv'd the Goddess, and her Children, Gods.
No Strains a Nation's Ecstasies can tell.
So Latian Throngs with Pleasure stood entranc'd,
When on the Tyber Cybelé advanc'd:
Speechless by Wonder, Rome in rich Abodes
Receiv'd the Goddess, and her Children, Gods.
FINIS.
| A poem humbly inscribed To His Royal Highness Prince Frederic | |