Memoir of Robert, Earl Nugent With Letters, Poems, and Appendices: By Claud Nugent: With Twelve Reproductions from Family Portraits by Sir Godfrey Kneller, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Gainsborough and Others |
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VERSES
ADDRESSED TO
THE QUEEN,
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
 | Memoir of Robert, Earl Nugent |  |
135
VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE QUEEN,
WITH A NEW YEAR'S GIFT OF IRISH MANUFACTURE
By LORD CLARE.
137
Could poor Ierne Gifts afford,
Worthy the Consort of her Lord,
Of purest Gold a sculptur'd Frame,
Just Emblem of her Zeal, should flame:
Within, the Produce of her Soil,
Wrought by her Hand with curious Toil,
Should from her splendid Looms supply
The richest Web of Tyrian Dye;
Where blended Tints in plastic Lore,
Might, breathing, shame the sculptur'd Ore.
Worthy the Consort of her Lord,
Of purest Gold a sculptur'd Frame,
Just Emblem of her Zeal, should flame:
Within, the Produce of her Soil,
Wrought by her Hand with curious Toil,
Should from her splendid Looms supply
The richest Web of Tyrian Dye;
Where blended Tints in plastic Lore,
Might, breathing, shame the sculptur'd Ore.
There should the Royal Charlotte trace
Her Brunswick, in majestic grace,
With Looks beneficently kind,
The Face illumin'd by the Mind;
While He, with Joy-transported Eyes,
Should see his much-lov'd Charlotte rise;
And Both behold their Infant-train,
Cull Flowrets on the pictur'd Plain,
Weaving for Them a fragrant band,
More sweet from the presenting Hand:
Such was the Wreath, when Hymen led
Our Monarch to his nuptial bed;
And such the tender Chain which binds,
In mutual Love, their wedded Minds.
Her Brunswick, in majestic grace,
With Looks beneficently kind,
The Face illumin'd by the Mind;
While He, with Joy-transported Eyes,
Should see his much-lov'd Charlotte rise;
And Both behold their Infant-train,
Cull Flowrets on the pictur'd Plain,
Weaving for Them a fragrant band,
More sweet from the presenting Hand:
Such was the Wreath, when Hymen led
Our Monarch to his nuptial bed;
And such the tender Chain which binds,
In mutual Love, their wedded Minds.
Nor here the Artist's skill should cease:
Glorious in War, and great in Peace
Our King should stand, alike renown'd
With Laurel or with Olive crown'd:
Should, o'er the blood-besprinkled Field,
Bid Vengeance to Compassion yield;
Or Justice, rous'd by Faction's Band,
Snatch her sheath'd Sword from Mercy's Hand.
Glorious in War, and great in Peace
Our King should stand, alike renown'd
With Laurel or with Olive crown'd:
Should, o'er the blood-besprinkled Field,
Bid Vengeance to Compassion yield;
138
Snatch her sheath'd Sword from Mercy's Hand.
Far distant o'er the foaming Main,
And distant may it e'er remain!
A gathr'ing Cloud should blot the Skies,
And Mists in noxious Vapour rise;
Such as, in Summer's Solstice spread,
Steam from the pregnant Meadow's Bed;
While the bewilder'd Travellers roam
Wide from the Path which leads to Home;
No faithful Mark, no Guide secure
To trace the palpable Obscure:
And such the Veil hot Frenzy draws
O'er Reason, Liberty, and Laws.
And distant may it e'er remain!
A gathr'ing Cloud should blot the Skies,
And Mists in noxious Vapour rise;
Such as, in Summer's Solstice spread,
Steam from the pregnant Meadow's Bed;
While the bewilder'd Travellers roam
Wide from the Path which leads to Home;
No faithful Mark, no Guide secure
To trace the palpable Obscure:
And such the Veil hot Frenzy draws
O'er Reason, Liberty, and Laws.
But, close behind, returning Day
Should chace the Gloom obscene away;
And, mildly beaming, Heaven-sent Peace
Bid Discord and Confusion cease;
Lead Filial Piety sincere,
Bath'd in a penitential Tear,
To the fond Parent's melting Breast,
Long lost, a dearly welcome Guest.
Kind Industry, with ready Hand,
Should strew her Treasures o'er the Land;
Chearful her wonted Toil resume,
Rich Commerce spread, fair Plenty bloom;
And Love, the universal Soul,
Inspire, combine, and bless the whole.
Should chace the Gloom obscene away;
And, mildly beaming, Heaven-sent Peace
Bid Discord and Confusion cease;
Lead Filial Piety sincere,
Bath'd in a penitential Tear,
To the fond Parent's melting Breast,
Long lost, a dearly welcome Guest.
Kind Industry, with ready Hand,
Should strew her Treasures o'er the Land;
Chearful her wonted Toil resume,
Rich Commerce spread, fair Plenty bloom;
And Love, the universal Soul,
Inspire, combine, and bless the whole.
And O! might poor Ierne hope,
In sober Freedom's liberal scope,
To ply the Loom, to plough the Main,
Nor see Heaven's Bounties pour'd in vain,
(1) Where starving Hinds, from Fens and Rocks,
View Pastures rich with Herds and Flocks;
And only view, forbid to taste;
Sad Tenants of a dreary Waste.
For other Hinds our Oxen bleed;
(2) Our Flocks for happier Regions feed,
Their Fleece to Gallia's Looms resign,
More rich than the Peruvian Mine;
Her Fields with barren Lilies strown,
Now white with Treasures not her own.
In vain Ierne's piercing Cries
Plaintive pursue the golden Prize;
While all aghast the Weaver stands,
And drops the Shuttle from His Hands.
Barter accurst! but mad Distress
To Ruin flies from Wretchedness.
Theirs be the Blame, who bar the Course
Of Commerce from her genuine Source,
And drive the Wretch his Thirst to slake
With Poison, in a stagnant Lake.
In sober Freedom's liberal scope,
To ply the Loom, to plough the Main,
Nor see Heaven's Bounties pour'd in vain,
(1) Where starving Hinds, from Fens and Rocks,
View Pastures rich with Herds and Flocks;
And only view, forbid to taste;
Sad Tenants of a dreary Waste.
For other Hinds our Oxen bleed;
(2) Our Flocks for happier Regions feed,
Their Fleece to Gallia's Looms resign,
More rich than the Peruvian Mine;
Her Fields with barren Lilies strown,
Now white with Treasures not her own.
139
Plaintive pursue the golden Prize;
While all aghast the Weaver stands,
And drops the Shuttle from His Hands.
Barter accurst! but mad Distress
To Ruin flies from Wretchedness.
Theirs be the Blame, who bar the Course
Of Commerce from her genuine Source,
And drive the Wretch his Thirst to slake
With Poison, in a stagnant Lake.
Hence Ports secure from ev'ry Wind,
For Trade, for Wealth, for Power design'd,
Where faithful Coasts and friendly Gales
Invite the Helm and court the Sails,
A wide deserted Space expand,
Surrounded with uncultur'd Land.
(3) Thence Poverty, with haggard Eye,
Beholds the British Streamers fly;
Beholds the Merchant doom'd to brave
The treacherous Shoal, and adverse Wave,
Constrain'd to risk his precious Store,
And shun our interdicted Shore.
(4) Thus Britain works a Sister's Woe;
Thus starves a Friend, and gluts a Foe.
For Trade, for Wealth, for Power design'd,
Where faithful Coasts and friendly Gales
Invite the Helm and court the Sails,
A wide deserted Space expand,
Surrounded with uncultur'd Land.
(3) Thence Poverty, with haggard Eye,
Beholds the British Streamers fly;
Beholds the Merchant doom'd to brave
The treacherous Shoal, and adverse Wave,
Constrain'd to risk his precious Store,
And shun our interdicted Shore.
(4) Thus Britain works a Sister's Woe;
Thus starves a Friend, and gluts a Foe.
Yet shall this humble Gift impart
The Tribute of a loyal Heart;
And Thou with Smiles benign receive:
('Tis all that loyal Heart can give.)
When on thy Robe with mingled Rays,
The Ruby and the Diamond blaze;
Unmindful of Golconda's Prize,
Thou mark'st our Rapture-sparkling Eyes;
Faintly her Gems their Lustre prove,
Lost in the Flame of Britain's Love.
And when the rustic Chorus sing
In artless Notes, God save the King;
Altho', with unmelodious Prayer,
In strains like mine They rend the Air;
Thy ravish'd Ears forget the Lyre,
E'en while Thy Hands the string inspire:
Such Notes, when grateful Crowds rejoice,
Hymn sweeter than a Seraph's Voice;
And such, along the swarming Shore,
Loud-echo'd to the Cannon's Roar;
While Britain's Glory shone display'd,
In all the Pride of Pomp array'd;
Where sovereign of the briny Flood,
Her Guardian Genius smiling stood.
The Tribute of a loyal Heart;
And Thou with Smiles benign receive:
('Tis all that loyal Heart can give.)
When on thy Robe with mingled Rays,
The Ruby and the Diamond blaze;
Unmindful of Golconda's Prize,
Thou mark'st our Rapture-sparkling Eyes;
Faintly her Gems their Lustre prove,
Lost in the Flame of Britain's Love.
And when the rustic Chorus sing
In artless Notes, God save the King;
Altho', with unmelodious Prayer,
In strains like mine They rend the Air;
Thy ravish'd Ears forget the Lyre,
E'en while Thy Hands the string inspire:
Such Notes, when grateful Crowds rejoice,
Hymn sweeter than a Seraph's Voice;
140
Loud-echo'd to the Cannon's Roar;
While Britain's Glory shone display'd,
In all the Pride of Pomp array'd;
Where sovereign of the briny Flood,
Her Guardian Genius smiling stood.
| Memoir of Robert, Earl Nugent | |