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BY THE RIGHT REV. R. HURD,
(Now Bishop of Worcester.)
Be still my fears, suggest no false alarms;
The Poet's rapture and the lyric fire
Tothee,lov'd Peace,shallraise the untaught strain;
High on some wave-worn cliff she views serene,
Safe on the deep, the freighted navies ride ;
Or, where Augusta's turrets cleave the skies,
She loves to mix with Art's inventive band,
Or flies, with transport, to her native plain,
fair, Sees Plenty vindicate her ancient reign, And pour forth all her charms to crown the various
But chief the Muse to Academic groves
Her kindred train and best-lov'd arts invite; Thro' Cam's o'ershadowing bowers intranc'd she
roves, Whence sacred Science streams, and Genius spreads
his light. • Here will I rest, she cry'd; my laurel here
• Eternal blooms; here hangs my golden lyre, " Which erst my Spenser tun’d to shepherd's ear, • And loftiest Milton smote with genuine epic fire. * And O1 if aught my fond presages shew, On these lov'd bowers while Peace her influence
sheds. • Some hand again shall snatch it from the bough, Wake each high-sounding string, and charm the
• Then shall be sung the glorious deeds of war,
• How Virtue strove, where envious Fortune sail'd: • Expecting Fame the conflict view'd from far, * And Britain's valor crown'd, tho' Gallia's host pre
• Yet then, even then (th’indignant verse shall tell)
• A surer vengeance rose to whelm the foe : · When hell-born Faction issu'd from her cell, « And on her impious head drew half the destin'd
• But, hark! the loud triumphant strains declare,
• How Britain's majesty unrivall'd rose, • When all the glories of the naval war • Beam'd round her conquering flag, and circled An
Till thus the Power by Freedom's sons obey'd :
• Let blood-stain'd glory swell the tyrant's breast; • Be mine Compassion's healing wing to spread, • To sheath the wasting sword, and give the nations
• Then (as the Muse enraptur'd shall display)
War’s impious roar, and Faction's murmurs cease; • His gracious eye sheds lustre on the day, "And lends the quickening beam to cheer the arts of
Whilst William's deeds and William's praise Each English breast with transport raise,
Each English tongue employ; Say, Poyntz, if thy elated heart Assume not a superior part,
A larger share of joy?
But that thy country's high affairs
You should renew your flight;
Or who like you can write?
Then to rehearse the Hero's praise,
The pleasing task be mine
That pleasing part be thine.
Who first should watch, and who call forth This youthful Prince's various worth,
You had the public voice; Wisely his royal Sire consign'd To you the culture of his mind,
And England blest the choice.
You taught him to be early known
From this, near Mona's flood,
And prov'd th’illustrious blood.
Of Virtue's various charms you taught,
How her unshaken power
No conquest make it more.