University of Virginia Library

The GIFT.

Oppress'd Hibernia, in Despair,
Complains to Jove in fervent Pray'r,
How fast her Liberties decay,
How fast her Honours fade away,

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Her Sons to no Preferments rise,
Tho' Earth can boast of few so wise,
How Poor, how Desolate she grows,
And begs Redress of all her Woes.
Then Jove: “Hibernia sues too late,
“Her Sorrows are decreed by Fate,
“But Heav'n those Sorrows shall repay
“With Blessings, in a nobler Way.
“Let haughty Britain boast no more,
“With scornful Pride, her golden Store,
“That distant Worlds her Name revere,
“That Arts and Learning flourish there;
“To raise thy Glory, we design
“To bless thee with a Gift divine,

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“A Gift, by which thy injur'd Name
“Shall fill th' immortal Voice of Fame,
“That Albion may with Envy see
“Her Glories far surpass'd by thee.
Hibernia thanks him for the Gift,
And owns she's overpaid in Swift.