The Royal Hermitage or Temple of Honour A Poem to Her Majesty the Queen-Regent. To which is prefix'd, An Epistle to the Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole. By Mr. Mitchell |
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To the Right Honourable Sir ROBERT
WALPOLE. |
 | The Royal Hermitage or Temple of Honour |  |
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To the Right Honourable Sir ROBERT WALPOLE.
------Nil sine Te mei
Possunt Honores------
Hor.
Possunt Honores------
Hor.
Of Statesmen ablest, as of Friends the best,
Mine and the Muses' Patron long confess'd,
If I again, amid a Kingdom's Cares,
May dare t'intrude Poetical Affairs,
If e'er you heard with Pleasure when I pray'd,
And meant the good and generous Things you said,
O Walpole, now, vouchsafe to lend an Ear,
On this Occasion for your Bard appear,
And to the Queen my humble Tribute bear.
Tell her how, ravished with her royal Zeal
For publick Virtue and the common Weal,
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The sacred Honours to their Memory paid,
Your Mitchell fain would happily proclaim
Her matchless Mind and undisputed Fame,
In Numbers, such as you, your self, would use,
Did Europe give but Leisure to your Muse.
Tell her—But Walpole no Direction needs—
Pardon what from an Heart o'ercharg'd proceeds,
And, by engaging one kind Smile of Hers,
Inspire your Poet, and reward his Verse.
So may you, late, from this vain World remov'd,
By Men lamented, and by God approv'd,
In deathless Annals shine the brightest Name,
The Statesman highest in Records of Fame;
While Kings, endebted to your Virtues, raise
Busto's and Statues sacred to your Praise,
Honours deserve for Honours justly paid,
And be, by borrow'd Fame, immortal made!
Sept. 7, 1732. Mitchell.
| The Royal Hermitage or Temple of Honour | |