My fons lament, in diftant dungeons thrown,
Unacted crimes, and follies not their own;
But oh! my confort 'my o'er-flowing eyes
Gush forth with tears, and all my forrows rife,
While the dear tender exile I bemoan;

Oh royal bride! oh daughter of a throne!
Not thus I promis'd when I fought thy bed,
Thou didst the brave, the great Bavaria wed:
Curst be ambition! curft the thirst of pow'r!
And curit that once-lov'd title Emperor!

Excufe, great Sir, the ravings of a mind,
That can so just a cause for forrow find;
My words too rudely may a monarch greet,
For oh! was ever grief like mine discreet!
No fuff'rings fhall my firm alliance end,
An unfuccessful, but a faithful friend.

TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

PARDON, great Duke, if Britain's style delights:

Or if th' Imperial title more invites ;

Pardon, great Prince, the failings of a Muse,
That dares not hope for more than your excuse,
Forc'd at a distance to attempt your praise,
And fing your victories in mournful lays.

To:

To caft in fhadows, and allay the light,
That wounds, with nearer rays, the dazzled fight,
Nor durft in a direct and open strain

Such acts, with her unhallow'd notes, prophane:
In tow❜ring verse let meaner heroes grow,
And to elab'rate lines their greatness owe,
Your actions, own'd by every nation, want
Praises, no greater than a foe may grant.

Oh! when fhall Europe, by her MARLERO'S fword
To lasting peace and liberty restor❜d,

Allow her weary champion a retreat,

To his lov'd country and his rifing feat?
Where your foft partner, far from martial noise,
Your cares fhall sweeten with domestic joys:
Your conquests fhe with doubtful pleasure hears,
And in the midft of every triumph fears;
Betwixt her queen and you divide her life,
A friend obfequious, and a faithful wife.

h

Hail, Woodstock! hail, ye celebrated glades!
Grow faft, ye woods, and flourish thick, ye fhades!
Ye rifing tow'rs, for your new lord prepare,
Like your old Henry come from Gallia's war.
The gen'ral's arms as far the king's o'erpow'r,
As this new structure does furpaís the bow'r.
The pleafing, prospects and romantic feite,
The fpacious compafs, and the stately height;

b. Henry the IId, who refided at Woodstock,

The

The painted gardens, in their flow'ry prime,
Demand whole volumes of immortal rhime,
And if the Mufe would fecond the design,
Mean as they are, should in my numbers fhine.
There live the joy and wonder of our ifles,
Happy in Albion's love, and ANNA's fmiles."
While from the godlike race of CHURCHILL born,
Four beauteous Rofamonds this bow'r adorn',
Who with the ancient fyren of the place

In charms might vie, and every blooming grace;
But blefs'd with equal virtues had she been,
Like them fhe had been favour'd by the QUEEN.
Whom your high merit, and their own, prefers,
To all the worthieft beds of England's peers.

Thus the great eagle, when heav'n's wars are o'er,
And the loud thunder has forgot to roar,

Jove's fire laid by, with those of Venus burns,
To his forfaken mate and fhades returns ;

On foine proud tree, more facred than the rest,
With curious art he builds his fpacious neft;
In the warm fun lies basking all the day,
While round their fire the gen'rous eaglets play;
Their fire, well-pleas'd to fee the noble brood,
Fill all the loftiest cedars of the wood.

i The four daughters of the Duke of Marlborough, viz. Henrietta married to the Earl of Godolphin; she died October 24, 1733. 2. Anna married to the Earl of Sunderland, died April 15, 1716. 3. Elizabeth married to the Duke of Bridgwater; died Marsh 22, 1714. 4. Mary married to the Duke of Montague,

AN

AN ODE ON MISS HARRIET HANBURY,

AT SIX YEARS OLD.

BY SIR CHARLES HANBURY WILLIAMS.

I.

HY fhould I thus employ my time,

WHY

To paint those cheeks of rofy hue?

Why should I fearch my brains for rhime,
To sing those eyes of gloffy blue?

II.

The pow'r as yet is all in vain,

Thy num'rous charms, and various graces :

They only serve to banish pain,

And light up joy in parents' faces.

III.

But foon those eyes their strength shall feel;
Those charms their pow'rful fway shall find;

Youth fhall in crowds before you kneel,

And own your empire o'er mankind.

IV.

Then when on Beauty's throne you sit,
And thousands court your wifh'd-for arms;
My Muse shall stretch her utmost wit,
To fing the victories of your charms.

V. Charms

V.

Charms that in time fhall ne'er be loft,
At least while verfe like mine endures :
And future HANBURYS fhall boast,

Of verse like mine, of charms like yours.

Since scarce another house can fhew

A poet, that can fing like me;

A beauty, that can charm like you.

A SONG

UPON MISS HARRIET HANBURY, ADDRESSED TO THE REV. MR. BIRT..