 | Poems and Translations |  |
64
On the King's Return, In the YEAR, 1720.
I
Return, auspicious Prince, again,Nor let Britannia mourn in vain;
Too long, too long, has she deplor'd
Her absent Father and her Lord.
II
To bend her gracious Monarch's Mind,She sends her Sighs in every Wind:
Can Britain's Pray'r be thrown aside?
And that the first He e'er deny'd!
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III
Yet, mighty Prince, vouchsafe to smile,Return, and bless our longing Isle;
Tho' fond Germania begs thy stay,
And courts Thee from our Eyes away.
IV
Tho' Belgia would our King detain,We know she begs and pleads in vain;
We know our gracious King prefers
Britannia's Happiness to Her's.
V
And lo! to save us from Despair,At length he listens to our Pray'r.
Dejected Albion's Vows He hears,
And hastes to dry her falling Tears.
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VI
He hears his anxious People pray,And loudly call their King away,
Once more their longing Eyes to bless,
And guard their Freedom and their Peace.
VII
They know while Brunswick fills the Throne,The Seasons glide with Pleasure on;
The British Suns improve their Rays,
Adorn, and beautify the Days.
VIII
But see the Royal Vessel flies,Less'ning to Belgia's weeping Eyes:
She proudly sails for Albion's Shores,
Guard her, ye Gods, with all your Pow'rs.
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IX
O Sea, bid every Wave subside,And teach Allegiance to thy Tide;
Thy Billows in Subjection keep,
And own the Monarch of the Deep.
X
Old Thames can scarce his Joy sustain,But runs down headlong to the Main,
His mighty Master to descry,
And leaves his spacious Channel dry.
XI
Augusta's Sons from either HandPour forth, and darken all the Strand;
Their Eyes pursue the Royal Barge,
Which now resigns her sacred Charge.
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XII
Th'unruly Transport shakes the shore,And drowns the feeble Cannon's Roar;
The Nations in the sight rejoice,
And send their Souls in every Voice.
XIII
But now amidst the loud Applause,With shame the conscious Muse withdraws;
Nor can her Voice be heard amidst the Throng,
The Theme so lofty, and so low the Song.
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