While thou thy infant charge shalt rear, My love shall lighten every care.

Since I before the hallow'd shrine,
First call'd my dearest Anna mine,
Ne'er did my pulse so rapid move,
Nor glad my heart with equal love;
Those charms that in this infant lie
Shall bind us by a closer tye.

My partial eyes with pleasure trace
The features in its infant face;
And if kind Heaven in mercy hear
The fondness of a father's prayer,
In her may I those manners see,
Those virtues I adore in thee.

ODE XII.

ΤΟ

A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTH-DAY,

BEING THE FIRST OF APRIL.'

LET others write for bye-designs,
I seek some moral in my lines,
Which whosoever reads must bear,
Or great, or learn'd, or young, or fair;
Permit me then, with friendly lay,
To moralize your April day.

Checquer'd your native month appears
With sunny gleams, and cloudy tears;
'Tis thus the world our trust beguiles,
Its frowns as transient as its smiles;
Nor pain, nor pleasure long will stay,
For life is but an April day.

Health will not always last in bloom,
But age or sickness surely come;
Are friends belov'd? why fate must seize
Or these from you, or you from these:
Vol XV.

E

Forget not earnest in your play,
For youth is but an April day.

When piety and fortune move
Your heart to try the bands of love,
As far as duty gives you power,
Guiltless enjoy the present hour:
Gather your rose-buds while you may,
For love is but an April day.

What clouds soe'er without are seen,
Oh, may they never reach within !
But virtue's stronger fetters bind
The strongest tempest of the mind:
Calm may you shed your setting ray,
And sunshine end your April day.

ODE XIII.

ON

THE BIRTH-DAY OF FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES, 1739.

BY THE LATE EARL NUGENT.

FITLY to hail this happy day,
Freedom demands a festal lay,
And wakes the silent string:

The gen'rous Muse untaught to fear,
Inspires what Britain's Prince should hear,
And Britain's Bards should sing.

Accurs'd the wretches ever be,
And foes to sacred liberty,

Who impious dare presume

To sooth his ear with such a strain,
As better fits the cringing train,
The slaves of France or Rome.

Far other speaks the voice of Truth,
Ol may it warn thee, Royal Youth!
To fly base Flattery's lore.

The syren sings; who listen, die ;
Behold yon wreck with cautious eye!

Nor trust the faithless shore!

And when beneath thy counsel'd reign,
Britain shall plow the subject main,
Complete heaven's great design !
Restrain thy powers with binding laws!
And grateful own the glorious cause,
That rais'd thy scepter'd line!

So shalt thou earn unequal fame,
From blessings deathless as thy name,
By latest time enjoy'd;

Whilst gifts from arbitrary sway,
Shine the vain pageants of a day,
Neglected and destroy'd.

Thy throne shall thus unshaken stand;
Its ample base, a prosperous land;

Thy strength, a nation's might ;
And thus thy future race shall be
Safe in a bless'd necessity,

Guided and rul'd by right.

Let priests an hallow'd bondage preach! Let school-men earth-born godhead teach! Let loyal madmen rave!

Wise nature feels, she mocks their rules;
And laws oppress'd, from diff'rent schools,
Unite the free and brave.

So form'd, now shines the patriot band,
The guardians of a threaten'd land,
Of Britain and her crown.