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2
ON THE ARRIVAL OF PHILIP, Earl of Chesterfield,
In Ireland, 1745.
I
Rejoice, Ierne! happy Isle!Lo! Stanhope comes, the Muses Friend;
Thy drooping Genius soon shall smile,
And all thy Sorrows end.
II
Too long the Muse's Honors lost,The vocal Harp, untun'd, we mourn'd:
Again our native Fires we boast,
With Chesterfield return'd.
III
While in his Absence Albion pines,Her darling Philip lost deplores,
As when her Winter Sun declines,
And gilds the Western Shores.
4
IV
Tho' proudly on exalted Throne,Fair Albion, Queen of Science, sit,
We are not quite to Fame unknown,
Nor yet th' Antipodes of Wit.
V
'Tis true, long gloom'd the dusky Day,No Music bless'd our hapless Sphere;
Nor Wit, nor Learning, glanc'd a Ray,
No Chesterfield was here.
VI
The Muses thus neglect the Lyre,Nor strike the undulating Strings,
Till, joining the Celestial Choir,
Presiding Phoebus sings.
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