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The Poems of Ambrose Philips

Edited by M. G. Segar

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To the Honourable JAMES CRAGGS, Esq; Secretary at WAR.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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97

To the Honourable JAMES CRAGGS, Esq; Secretary at WAR.

Though Britain's hardy Troops demand your Care,
And cheerful Friends your Hours of Leisure share;
O Craggs, for Candour known! indulge awhile
My fond Desire, and on my Labour smile:
Nor count it always an Abuse of Time
To read a Long Epistle, though in Rhyme.
To you I send my Thoughts, too long confin'd,
And ease the Burden of a Loyal Mind;
To you my secret Transports I disclose,
That rise above the languid Powers of Prose.
But, while these artless Numbers You peruse,
Think 'tis my Heart that dictates, not the Muse;
My Heart which at the name of Brunswick fires,
And no Assistance from the Muse requires.
Believe me, Sir, your Breast, that glows with Zeal
For George's Glory and the publick Weal,
Your Breast alone feels more pathetick Heats;
Your Heart alone with stronger Raptures beats.
When I review the Great Examples past,
And to the Former Ages join the Last;
Still, as the Godlike Heroes to me rise,
In Arms triumphant, and in Councils wise,
The King is ever present to my Mind;
His Greatness traced in every Page I find:
The Greek and Roman Pens his Virtues tell,
And under Shining Names on Brunswick dwell.
At Hampton while He breathes untainted Air,
And seems to Vulgar Eyes devoid of Care;

98

The British Muses to the Grove will press,
Tune their melodious Harps, and claim Access:
But let Them not too rashly touch the Strings;
For Fate allows no Solitude to kings.
Hail to the Shades, where William, Great in Arms,
Retir'd from Conquest to Maria's Charms!
Where George serene in Majesty appears,
And plans the Wonders of succeeding Years!
There, as he walks, his comprehensive Mind
Surveys the Globe, and takes in all Mankind:
While, Britain, for thy Sake he wears the Crown;
To spread thy Power as wide as his Renown:
To make Thee Umpire of contending States,
And poise the Ballance in the Worlds Debates.
From the smooth Terrass as He casts his Eye,
And sees the Current Sea-ward rolling by;
What schemes of Commerce rise in his Designs.
Pledges of Wealth! and unexhausted Mines!
Through Winds and Waves, beneath inclement Skies,
Where Stars, distinguish'd by no Name, arise,
Our Fleets shall undiscover'd Lands explore,
And a New People hear our Cannons roar.
The Rivers long in ancient Story fam'd
Shall flow obscure, nor with the Thames be nam'd:
Nor shall our Poets copy from their Praise,
And Nymphs and Syrens to thy Honour raise;
Nor make thy Banks with Tritons Shells resound,
Nor bind thy Brows with humble Sedges round:
But paint Thee as thou art; a Peopled Stream!
The Boast of Merchants, and the Sailor's Theme!
Whose spreading Flood unnumber'd Ships sustain,
And pour whole Towns afloat into the Main;

99

While the redundant Seas waft up fresh Stores,
The daily tribute of far-distant Shores.
Back to thy Source I trace thy silver Train,
That gently winds through many a fertile Plain;
Where Flocks and lowing Herds in Plenty feed;
And Shepherds tune at ease the vocal Reed:
Ere yet thy Waters meet the briny Tide,
And freighted Vessels down thy Channel ride;
Ere yet thy Billows leave their Banks behind,
Swell into State, and foam before the Wind:
Thy Sovereign's Emblem! In thy Course compleat!
When I behold Him in his lov'd Retreat,
When Rural Scenes their pleasing Views disclose,
A Silvan Deity the Monarch shows;
As if He only knew the Woods to grace,
To rouze the Stag, and animate the Chace:
While every Hour, from Thence, his high Commands,
By speedy Winds convey'd to various Lands,
Controul Affairs; give weighty Councils Birth;
And sway the mighty Rulers of the Earth.
Were He, our Island's Glory and Defence,
To reign unactive, at the World's Expence;
Say, generous Craggs, who then should quell the Rage
Of lawless Faction, and reform the Age?
Who should our dear-bought Liberties maintain?
Who fix our Leagues with France, and treat with Spain?
Who check the headstrong Swede; asswage the Czar;
Secure our Peace, and quench the Northern War?
The Turk, though He the Christian Name defies,
And curses Eugene, yet from Eugene flies,
His Cause to Brunswick's Equity dare trust;
He knows him Valiant, and concludes him Just:

100

He knows his Fame in early Youth acquir'd,
When Turban'd Hoasts before his Sword retir'd.
Thus while his Influence to the Poles extends,
Or where the Day begins, or where it ends,
Far from our Coasts he drives off all Alarms;
And those his Power protects, his Goodness charms.
Great in Himself, and undebas'd with Pride,
The Sovereign lays his Regal State aside,
Pleas'd to appear without the bright Disguise
Of Pomp; and on his inborn Worth relies.
His Subjects are his Guests; and daily boast
The Condescension of their Royal Host:
While Crowds succeeding Crowds on either Hand,
A ravish'd Multitude, admiring stand.
His manly Wit and Sense with Candour join'd,
His Speech with every Elegance refin'd,
His winning Aspect, his becoming Ease,
Peculiar Graces all, conspire to please,
And render him to every Heart approv'd;
The King respected, and the Man belov'd.
Nor is his Force of Genius less admir'd,
When most from Crowds or publick Cares retir'd.
The Learned Arts by turns Admittance find;
At once unbend and exercise his Mind.
The secret Springs of Nature, long conceal'd,
And to the Wise by slow Degrees reveal'd,
(Delightful Search!) his piercing Thought descries.
Oft through the Concave Azure of the Skies.
His Soul delights to range, a boundless Space,
Which Myriads of Celestial Glories grace;
Worlds behind Worlds, that deep in Aether lye,
And Suns, that twinkle to the distant Eye;

101

Or call them Stars, on which our Fates depend,
And every ruling Star is Brunswick's Friend.
Soon as the rising Sun shoots o'er the Stream,
And gilds the Palace with a ruddy Beam,
You to the healthful Chace attend the King,
And hear the Forrest with the Huntsmen ring:
While in the dusty Town We rule the State,
And from Gazettes determine England's Fate.
Our groundless Hopes and groundless Fears prevail,
As artful Brokers comment on the Mail
Deafned with News, with Politicks opprest,
I wish the Wind ne'er vary'd from the West.
Secure, on GEORGE'S Councils I rely,
Give up my Cares, and Britain's Foes defy.
What though Cabals are form'd, and impious Leagues.
Though Rome fills Europe with her dark Intrigues?
His Vigilance, on every State intent,
Defeats their Plots, and over-rules th'Event.
But whither do my vain Endeavours tend?
Or how shall I my rash Attempt defend?
Divided in my Choice, from Praise to Praise
I rove, bewilder'd in the pleasing Maze.
One Virtue mark'd, another I pursue,
While yet another rises to my View.
Unequal to the Task, too late I find
The growing Theme unfinish'd left behind.
Thus the deluded Bee, in hopes to drain
At once the Thymy Treasure of the Plain,
Wide ranging on her little Pinions toils,
And skims o'er hundred Flowers for one she spoils:
When soon o'erburden'd with the fragrant Weight,
Homeward she flies, and flags beneath her Freight.