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Poems and Translations

By Christopher Pitt
 

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ON HIS MAJESTY'S Playing with a Tyger in Kensington Gardens.


190

ON HIS MAJESTY'S Playing with a Tyger in Kensington Gardens.

Primâ Dicte mihi, summâ Dicende Camœnâ.

Amidst the Den, the Lions Prey,
Seal'd up for Death the Prophet lay;
But couch'd the hungry Monsters sit,
And fawning lick his sacred Feet;

191

Swift shot an Angel from above,
And chang'd their Fury into Love.
As swift did Britain's Genius fly,
And for her Charge stand trembling by;
When Brunswick, Pious, Brave, and Wise,
Like Him the Fav'rite of the Skies,
Play'd with the Monster's dreadful Teeth,
And sported with the Fangs of Death.
Genius of Britain spare thy Fears,
For know within our Sov'reign wears
The surest Guard; the best Defence;
A firm untainted Innocence.
So sweet an Innocence disarms
The fiercest Rage with pow'rful Charms,
So far Rebellion it beguiles,
That Faction bends; that Envy smiles;

192

That furious Savages submit,
And pay due Homage at his Feet.
Britain! by this Example prove,
Thy Duty, Loyalty, and Love.
See! the fierce Brutes thy King caress,
And court Him with a mute Address;
Well may'st Thou own his gentle Sway,
If Tygers bend, and Savages obey.
FINIS.