Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

When boiling Blood, dire Foe to rest,
Tumultuous roll'd in Stanhope's Breast,
Thence mounting furious, foam'd on high,
Where Reason, heav'nly Pow'r, triumphant shone,
To dim her bright discerning Eye,
And wrap in stormy Clouds her radiant Throne.

Hibernia then, by filial Fears oppress'd,
Sought with slow pensive Steps the lonely Shore,
Fix'd on a Rock, her anxious Head she hung,
With Hands up-rais'd, she smote her asking Breast:
Britannia's Coast her mournful Eyes explore;
Her silent Harp neglected lay unstrung.

Impatient, she accus'd each tardy Gale,
Which on long-ling'ring lazy Pinions flew,
Each distant Cloud appear'd a rising Sail,
Fraught with glad Tidings to her View;

Of Stanhope's Bosom freed from Pain,
A grateful People's Triumph to restore:
Then damp'd by Doubts, she sighs, and droops again,
Th'imagin'd Joy, alas! appears no more.

Each public Virtue, and each private Grace,
Which warm'd the Patriot's Godlike Mind,
His princely Wisdom, and his Love of Peace,
His gen'rous Care of Humankind,

Awful arise within her grateful Soul;
Alternate Passions in her Bosom roll,
Now chearing Hopes prevail, now sad'ning Fears,
Now rise gay Smiles, now fall desponding Tears.

When lo! a darting Glory, blazing wide,
Diffus'd Effulgence of celestial Day;
The Eastern Sky with crimson Clouds was dy'd,
And quiv'ring Gleams gild all the wat'ry Way.

When on a Throne, which orient Beams up-bore,
Aloft Britannia's awful Genius smil'd;
Three kingly Crowns of brilliant Gems he wore,
And regal State compos'd his Aspect mild.

Descending slowly on his Wings outspread,
Now poiz'd majestic in th'etherial Space,
The Pow'r propitious bows his sacred Head,
His Words were utter'd with seraphic Grace.

Banish thy Grief, Ierne! weep no more!
Bathonia now her healing Stream employs;
Her balmy Spring shall thy lov'd Chief restore,
Renew his Vigour, and revive thy Joys.

From her warm Bosom's richest Veins
Maternal Nutriment shall flow;
And gushing Health, expelling Pains,
Shall daily give his Strength to grow.

And lo! like Morn new ris'n, he springs,
Propitious Health, on Dove-like Wings,
Flies hov'ring o'er his dawning Face;
And with her brings Delight and Peace;
Rekindling Joy each brilliant Orb supplies,
And lights anew the Splendor of his Eyes.

Too long their Beams, in Clouds conceal'd,
Lay hid from public Sight;
A People's Pray'r at length prevail'd,
Ierne's Vows dispell'd the Night.

Eclips'd untimely, thus the mounting Sun
Encroaching Darkness shades,
Ere half his glorious Race is run,
Through Noon-tide Night the la'b'ring Planet wades.

Astonish'd Nations lift their Eyes,
Depriv'd of his all-chearing Ray,
Ten thousand Pray'rs assail the Skies,
Till Heav'n appeas'd restores the joyful Day.

All hail celestial Light!
Thy Smile each gloomy Cloud dispels:
Nature, reviv'd by thee, looks bright;
Thy Blaze each raptur'd Bosom swells.

To thee, the grateful Muse shall sing,
Whilst joyful Millions bless thy Beam;
Hibernia's ecchoing Vallies ring
With Stanhope's, Stanhope's loud applauded Name.