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“ Hail, all hail,” the woods reply'd,

Ere freedom yet on ocean's breast And Echo on her airy tide

Had northward fix'd her halcyon nest; Roll'd the long murmurs down the mountain's side. Or Albion's oaks descending to the main

Had rolld her thunders wide, and claim'd the The voice resum'd again: “ Proceed,

wat’ry reign.
Nor cast one ling'ring look behind;
By those who toil for virtue's meed

But now each Briton's glowing tongue
Be every softer thought resignd;

Proclaims the truths the Genius sung,
Nor social home, nor genial air,

On Brunswick's name with rapture dwells, Nor glowing suns, are worth thy care:

And, hark! the general chorus swells: New realms await thee in a harsher sky,

May years on happy years roll o'er, Thee and thy chosen race from Azo's nuptial tie. Till glory close the shining page,

And our ill-fated sons deplore “ 'T is glory wakes; her active flame

The shortness of a Nestor's aget! Nor time shall quench, nor danger tame;

Hail, all hail! on Albion's plains Nor Boia's ? amplest range confine,

The friend of man and freedom reigns ! Though Guelpho reigns, the Guelphic line,

Echo, waft the triumph round,
Yon northern star, which dimly gleams

Till Gallia's utmost shores rebound,
Athwart the twilight veil of eve,

And all her bulwarks tremble at the sound.”
Must point their path to distant streams:

And many a wreath shall victory weave,
And many a palı shall Fame display
To grace the warriors on their way,

Till regions bow to their commands
Where Albis widens through the lands,

1759. And vast Visurgis spreads his golden sands.

Ya guardian powers, to whose command, “ Nor rest they there. Yon guiding fire

At Nature's birth, th’ Almighty mind Still shines aloft, and gilds the main !

The delegated task assign'd Not Lion Henry's 3 fond desire

To watch o'er Albion's favour'd land, To grasp th' Italian realms again,

What time your hosts with choral lay, Nor warring winds, nor wintry seas,

Emerging from its kindred deep, Shall stop the progress Fate decrees ;

Applausive hail'd each verdant steep, For lo! Britannia calls to happier coasts, And white rock, glittering to the new-born day ! And vales more verdant far than soft Atesté boasts. Angelic bands, where'er ye rove

Whilst lock'd in sleep creation lies: “ Behold, with euphrasy I clear

Whether to genial dews above Thy visual nerve, and fix it there,

You melt the congregated skies, Where, crown'd with rocks grotesque and steep, Or teach the torrent streams below The white isle rises o'er the deep!

To wake the verdure of the vale, There glory rests. For there arrive

Or guide the varying winds that blow Thy chosen sons; and there attain

To speed the coming or the parting sail : To the first title Fate can give,

Where'er ye bend your roving flight, The father-kings of free-born men!

Whilst now the radiant lord of light Proceed; rejoice; descend the vale,

Winds to the north his sliding sphere, And bid the future monarchs hail !"

Avert each ill, each bliss improve, Hail, all hail," the hero cried ;

And teach the minutes as they move And Echo on her airy tide

To bless the opening year. Pursued him, murmuring down the mountain's side.

Already Albion's lifted spear, 'T was thus, 0 king, to heroes old

And rolling thunders of the main, The mountains breath'd the strain divine,

Which justice' sacred laws maintain, Ere yet her volumes Fame unrollid

Have taught the haughty Gaul to fear. To trace the wonders of thy line;

On other earths, in other skies,

Beyond old Ocean's western bound,

Though bleeds afresh th' eternal wound, ? Bavaria.

Again Britannia's cross triumphant flies. 3 Henry the Lion, duke of Bavaria, Saxony, &c. To British George, the king of isles, was one of the greatest heroes of the twelfth century. The tribes that rove th’ Arcadian snows, He united in his own person the hereditary do Redeem'd from Gallia's polish'd wiles, minions of five families. His claims upon Italy bin

Shall breathe their voluntary vows: dered him from joining with the emperor Frederic

Where Nature guards her last retreat,
the First, in his third attack upon the pope, though And pleas'd Astrea lingers still;
he had assisted him in the two former; for which he While faith yet triumphs o'er deceit,
was stripped of his dominions by that emperor, and And virtue reigns, from ignorance of ill.
died in 1195, possessed only of those dutchies which Yet, angel powers, though Gallia bend,
Jie between the Elbe and the Weser.

Though Farne, with all her wreaths, attend
From this Henry, and a daughter of Henry the
Second of England, his present majesty is lineally

4 Nestoriæ brevitas senectæ. descended.

Musæ Anglicanz.


On bleeding war's tremendous sway,
The sons of leisure still complain,

And musing science sigbs in vain,
For Peace is still away.


AGAIN the Sun's revolving sphere
Go then, ye faithful guides

Wakes into life th' impatient year,
Of her returning steps, angelic band,

The white-wing'd minutes haste:
Explore the sacred seats where Peace resides,

And, spite of Fortune's fickle wheel,
And waves her olive wand.

Th' eternal Fates have fix'd their seal
Bid her the wastes of war repair.

Upon the glories of the past. -O southward seek the flying fair,

Suspended high in memory's fane, For not on poor Germanja's harass'd plain,

Beyond ev'n envy's soaring rage, Nor where the Vistula's proud current swells,

The deeds survive, to breathe again Nor on the borders of the frighted Seine,

In faithful history's future page; Nor in the depths of Russia's snows she dwells.

Where distant times shall wond'ring read Yet O, where'er, deserting freedom's isle,

Of Albion's strength, of battles won, She gilds the slave's delusive toil;

Of faith restor'd, of nations freed; Whether on Ebro's banks she strays,

Whilst round the globe her conquests run, Or sighing traces Taio's winding ways,

From the first blush of orient day, Or soft Ausonia's shores her feet detain,

To where descend his noontide beams,
O bring the wanderer back, with glory in her train.

On sable Afric's golden streams,
And where at eve the gradual gleams decay.

So much already hast thou prov'd

Of fair success, O best belov’d,

O first of favour'd isles !
FOR HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1759. What can thy fate assign thee more,
Begin the song-Ye subject choirs,

What whiter boon has Heaven in store,
The bard whom liberty inspires

To bless thy monarch's ceaseless toils ? Wakes into willing voice th' accordant lays.

Each rising season, as it flows,

Each month exerts a rival claim;
Say, shall we trace the hero's flame
From the first fost'ring gale of fame,

Each day with expectation glows,
Which bade the expanding bosom pant for praise?

Each fleeting hour demands its fame. Or hail the star whose orient beam

Around thy genius waiting stands Shed influence on his natal hour,

Each future child of anxious time: What time the nymphs of Leyna's stream,

See how they press in shadowy bands, Emerging from their wat'ry bower,

As from thy fleecy rocks sublime

He rolls around prophetic eyes,
Sung their soft carols through each osier shade,
And for the pregnant fair invok'd Lucina's aid ?

And earth, and sea, and Heaven surveys :

“ O grant a portion of thy praise! No. Haste to Scheld's admiring wave,

O bid us all,” they cry, “ with lustre rise!” Distinguish'd amidst thousands brave,

Genius of Albion, hear their prayer, Where the young warrior flesh'd his eager sword:

O bid them all with lustre rise ! While Albion's troops with rapture view'd

Beneath thy tutelary care, The ranks confus'd, the Gaul subdu'd,

The brave, the virtuous, and the wise, And hail'd, prophetic hail'd, their future lord,

Shall mark each moment's winged speed Waiting the chief's maturer nod,

With something that disdains to die, On his plum'd helmet vict'ry sate,

The hero's, patriot's, poet's meed, While suppliant nations round him bow'd,

And passport to eternity!
And Anstria trembled for her fate,

Around thy rocks while ocean raves,
Till, at his bidding slaughter swell'd the Mayne, While yonder Sun revolves his radiant car,
And half her blooming sons proud Gallia wept in the land of freedom with the land of slaves,

As Nature's friends, must wage illustrious war.

Then be each deed with glory crown'd, But what are wreaths in battle won ?

Till smiling Peace resume her throne; And what the tribute of amaze

Till not on Albion's shores alone Which man too oft mistaken pays

The voice of freedom shall resound, To the vain idol sbrine of false renown?

But every realm shall equal blessings find,
The noblest wreaths the monarch wears

And man enjoy the birth-right of his kind.
Are those his virtuous rule demands,
Unstain:d by widows' or by orphans' tears,

And woven by his subjects' hands.
Comets may rise, and wonder mark their way

Ahove the bounds of Nature's sober laws,
But 't is th' all-cheering lamp of day,

The permanent, th' unerring cause, Still must the Muse, indignant, hear
By whom th’enliven'd world its course maintains, The clanging trump, the rattling car,
By whom all Nature smiles, and beauteous order and usher in each opening year

With groans of death, and sounds of war?



O'er bleeding millions, realms opprest,

The wreaths, so late by glory won, The tuneful mourner sinks distrest,

Shall weave their foliage round his throne, Or breathes but notes of woe:

Till kings, abash'd, shall tremble to be foes, And cannot Gallia learn to melt,

And Albion's dreaded strength secure the world's Nor feel what Britain long has felt

repose. For her insulting foe? Amidst her native rocks secure,

Her floating bulwarks hovering round,
What can the sea-girt realm endure,

What dread, through all her watry bound?
Great queen of Ocean, she defies

All but the Power who rules the skies,

'T was at the nectar'd feast of Jove, And bids the storms engage;

When fair Alcmena's son Inferior foes are dash'd and lost,

His destin'd course on Earth had run, As breaks the white wave on her coast

And claim'd the thrones above, Consum'd in idle rage.

Around their king, in deep debate, For alien sorrows heaves her generous breast, Conven'd, the heavenly synod sate, She proffers peace to ease a rival's pain:

And meditated boons refin'd Her crowded ports, ber fields in plenty drest,

To grace the friend of human kind: Bless the glad merchant, and th’industrious swain. When lo, to mark th' advancing god, Do blooming youths in battle fall ?

Propitious Hermes stretch'd his rod, True to their fame the funeral urn we raise;

The roofs with music rung ! And thousands, at the glorious call,

For, from amidst the circling choir, Aspire to equal praise.

Apollo struck th' alarming lyre,

And thus the Musés sung:
Thee, Glory, thee through climes unknown “ What boon divine would Heav'n bestow?

Th’ adventurous chief with zeal pursues; Ye gods, unbend the studious bow,
And fame brings back from every zone

The fruitless search give o'er, Presh subjects for the British Muse.

Whilst we the just reward assign, Tremendous as th' ill-omen'd bird

Let Hercules with Hebe join,
To frighted France thy voice was heard.

And youth unite with power !”
From Minden's echoing towers;
O'er Biscay's roar thy voice prevail'd;

O sacred Truth, in emblem drest!
And at thy word the rocks we scald,

Again the Muses sing, And Canada is ours.

Again in Britain's blooming king O potent queen of every breast

Alcides stands confest. Which aims at praise by virtuous deeds,

By temp'rance nurs'd, and early taught Where'er thy influence shines confest

To shun the smooth fallacious draught The hero acts, th' event succeeds.

Which sparkles high in Circe's bowl; Bnt ah! must Glory only bear,

To tame each hydra of the soul, Bellona-like, the vengeful spear?

Each lurking pest, which mocks its birth, To fill her mighty mind

And ties its spirit down to Earth, Must bulwarks fall, and cities flame,

Immers'd in mortal coil ; And is her amplest field of fame

His choice was that severer road
The miseries of mankind ?

Which leads to virtue's calm abode,
On ruins pil'd, on ruins must she rise,
And lend her rays to gild her fatal throne?

And well repays the toil.

In vain ye tempt, ye specious harms, Must the mild Power who melts in vernal skies,

Ye flow'ry wiles, ye flatt'ring charms,
By thunders only make his godhead known?

That breathe from yonder bower;
No, be the omen far away ;

And Heav'n the just reward assigns,
From yonder pregnant cloud a kinder gleam,

For Hercules with Hebe joins,
Though faintly struggling into day,

And youth unites with power.
Portends a happier theme!
--And who is he, of regal mien,

O, call'd by Heav'n to fill that awful throne,
Reclin'd on Albion's golden fleece,

Where Edward, Henry, William, George, have Whose polish'd brow and eye serene

shone, Proclaim him elder-born of peace?

(Where love with rev'rence, laws with power agree, Another George!-Ye winds convey

And 't is each subject's birthright to be free)
Th' auspicious name from pole to pole!

The fairest wreaths already won
Thames, catch the sound, and tell the subject sea Are but a prelude to the whole:
Beneath whose sway its waters roll,

Thy arduous task is now begun,
The hoary monarch of the deep,

And, starting from a nobler goal,
Who sooth'd its murmurs with a father's care, Heroes and kings of ages past
Doth now eternal sabbath keep,

Are thy compeers: extended high
And leaves his trident to his blooming heir. The trump of Fame expects the blast,
O, if the Muse aright divine,

The radiant lists before thee lie,
Pair Peace shall bless his opening reign, The field is time, the prize eternity!
And through its splendid progress shine, Beyond example's bounded light
With every art to grace her train.

'T is time to urge thy daring flight,


And heights untry'd explore:

To her own softness join'd the manly heart, O think what thou alone can'st give,

Sustain'd the soldier's drooping arms,
What blessings Britain may receive

Confided in her genuine charms,
When youth unites with power.

And yielded every ornament of art.
-We want them not. Yet, O ye fair,

Should Gallia, obstinately vain,
To her own ruin urge despair,

And brave th' acknowledg'd masters of the main :

Should she through ling'ring years protract her fall,

Through seas of blood to her destruction wade, 1762.

Say, could ye feel the generous call, God of slaughter, quit the scene,

And own the fair example here portray'd ? Lay the crested belmet by;

Doubtless ye could. The royal dame Love commands, and beauty's queen

Would plead her dear adopted country's cause, Rules the power who rules the sky,

And each indignant breast unite its fame,
Janus, with well-omen'd grace,

To save the land of liberty and laws.
Mounts the year's revolving car,
And forward turns his smiling face,

And longs to close the gates of war.
Enough of glory Albion knows.-

Come, ye powers of sweet repose,
On downy pinions move!

Let the war-worn legions own
Your gentler sway, and from the throne

Go, Flora,” (said th' impatient queen Receive the laws of love!

Who shares great Jove's eternal reign)

“ Go breathe on yonder thorn; Yet, if justice still requires

Wake into bloom th' emerging rose, Roman arts, and Roman souls,

And let the fairest flower that blows Britain breathes her wonted fires,

The fairest month adorn. And her wonted thunders rolls.

Sacred to me that month shall rise, Added to our fairer isle

Whatever contests' shake the skies Gallia mourns her bulwark gone:

To give that month a name: Conquest pays the price of toil,

Her April buds let Venus boast, Either India is our own.

Let Maia range her painted host;
Ye sons of freedom, grasp the sword;

But June is Juno's claim.
Pour, ye rich, th' imprison'd hoard,
And teach it how to shine:

“ And goddess, know, in after times Each selfish, each contracted aim

(I name not days, I name not climes) To glory's more exalted claim

From Nature's noblest throes
Let luxury resign.

A human flower shall glad the Earth;
And the same month disclose his birth,

Which bears the blushing rose.
You too, ye British dames, may share

Nations shall bless his mild command, If not the toils, and dangers of the war,

And fragrance fill th' exulting land, At least its glory. From the Baltic shore,

Where'er I fix his throne." From Runic virtue's native shore,

Britannia listend as she spok Fraught with the tales of ancient lore,

And from her lips prophetic broke, Behold a fair instructress come!

" The flower shall be my own.” When the fierce female tyrant of the north' Claim'd every realm her conquering arms could goddess of connubial love,

gain, When discord, red with slaughter, issuing forth,

Thou sister, and thou wife of Jove, Saw Albert struggling with the victor's chain;

To thee the suppliant voice we raise !

We name not months, we name not days, The storm beat high, and shook the coast,

For where thy smiles propitious shine, Th' exhausted treasures of the land

The whole prolific year is thine. Could scarce supply th' embattled host,

Accordant to the trembling strings, Or pay th' insulting foe's demand.

Hark, the general chorus swells, What then could beauty do 2? She gave

From every heart it springs, Her treasur'd tribute to the brave,

On every tongue it dwells.

Goddess of connubial love, i Margaret de Waldemar, called the Semiramis Sister thou, and wife of Jove, of the north. · In the year 1395, the ladies of Mecklenburgh, On ether's all-pervading tide,

Bid the genial powers that glide to support their duke Albert's pretensions to the

Or from the fount of life that stream erown of Sweden, and to redeem him when he was

Mingling with the solar beam, taken prisoner, gave up all their jewels to the public; for which they afterwards received great emoluments and privileges, particularly the right of Alluding to the contention between the godsuccession in fiefs, which had before been appro- desses in Ovid's Fasti, about naming the month of priated to males only.


Bid them here at virtue's shrine,

“ A people zealous to obey; In coastest danas or union join.

A monarch whose parental sway Till many a George and many a Charlotte prove, Despises regal art: How much to thee we owe, queen of connubial love! His shield, the laws which guard the land;

His sword, each Briton's eager hand;

His throne, each Briton's heart."



Ar length th' imperions lord of war
Yields to the Fates their ebon car,

FOR HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, JUNE 4, 1763. And frowning quits his toil:

Common births, like common things, Dash'd from his hand the bleeding spear

Pass unbeeded, or unknown: Now deigns a happier form to wear,

Time but spreads, or waves his wings, And peaceful turns the soil.

The phantom swells, the phantom's gone! Th' insatiate Furies of his train,

Born for inillions, monarchs rise Revenge, and Hate, and fell Disdain,

Heirs of infamy or fame. With heart of steel, and eyes of fire,

When the virtuous, brave, or wise, Who stain the sword which honour draws,

Demand our praise, with loud acclaim, Who sully virtue's sacred cause,

We twine the festive wreath, the shrines adorn, To Stygian depths retire.

'Tis not our king's alone, 't is Britain's natal morn, Unholy shapes, and shadows drear,

Bright examples plac'd on high The pallid family of Fear,

Shine with more distinguish'd blaze; And Rapine, still with shrieks pursued,

Thither nations turn their eye, And meagre Famine's squalid brood,

And grow virtuous as they gaze. Close the dire crew.-Ye eternal gates, display Thoughtless ease, and sportive leisure, Your adamantine folds, and shut them from the Dwell in life's contracted sphere; day!

Public is the monarch's pleasure,

Public is the monarch's care: For lo, in yonder pregnant skies

If Titus smiles, the observant world is gay; On billowy clouds the goddess lies,

If Titus frowns, or sighs, we sigh and lose a day! Whose presence breathes delight,

Around their couch, around their board Whose power th' obsequious seasons own,

A thousand ears attentive wait, And winter loses half his frowy),

A thousand busy tongues record And half her shades the night,

The smallest whispers of the great. Soft-smiling Peace! whom Venus bore,

Happy those whom truth sincere When tutor'd by th' enchanting lore

And conscious virtue join to guide! Of Maia's blooming son,

Can they have a foe to fear, She sooth'd the synod of the gods,

Can they have a thought to hide? Drove Discord from the blest abodes,

Nobly they soar above th’admiring throng, And Jove resum'd his throne.

Superior to the power, the will of acting wrong. Th' attendant Graces gird her round,

Such may Britain find her king!And sportive Ease, with locks unbound,

Such the Muse' of rapid wing And every Muse to leisure born,

Wafts to some sublimer sphere: And Plenty, with her twisted horn,

Gods and heroes mingle there. While changeful Conimerce spreads his loosen'd Fame's eternal accents breathe, sails,

(vails! Black Cocytus howls beneath; Blow as ye list, ye winds, the reign of Peace pre- Ev'n Malice learns to blush, and hides her stings,

- such may Britain ever find her kings!
And lo, to grace that milder reign,
And add fresh lustre to the year,
Sweet Innocence adorns the train,
In form, and features, Albion's heir!

A future George !--Propitious powers,


1765. Ye delegates of Heaven's high king, Who guide the years, the days, the hours

Sacred to thee, That float on Time's progressive wing,

O Commerce, daughter of sweet Liberty, Exert your influence, bid us know

Shall flow the annual strain ! From parent worth what virtues flow!

Beneath a monarch's fostering care Be to less happy realms resign'd

Thy sails unnumber'd swell in air, The warrior's unrelenting rage,

And darken half the main. We ask not kings of hero-kind,

From every cliff of Britain's coasts The storms and earthquakes of their age. We see them toil, thy daring hosts To ns be nobler blessings given:

Who bid our wealth increase, O teach us, delegates of Heaven,

Who spread our martial glory far,
What mightier bliss from union springs ! The sons of fortitude in war,
Future subjects, future kings,

Of industry in peace.
Shall bless the fair example shown,
And from our character transcribe their own :

1 Pindar. VOL. XVII.


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