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A star that, with auspicious beams, shall guide
Thy vessel safe, through fortune's roughest tide.
peace still smiles, by this, shall commerce steer
A finish'd course, in triumph round the sphere;
And, gathering tribute from each distant fhore,
In Britain's lap the world's abundance pour.
If war 's ordain'd, this star shall dart its beams
Through that black cloud, which rising from the Thames,
With thunder, form'd of Brunswick's wrath, is fent
To claim the feas, and awe the continent,
This Thall direct it, where the bolt to throw,
A star for us, a comet to the foe.
At this the Muse shall kindle, and aspire :
My breaft, o Walpole, glows with grateful fire.
The streams of royal bounty, turn'd by thee,
Refresh the dry domains of poesy.
My fortune fhews, when arts are Walpole's care,
What flender worth forbids us to despair :
Be this thy partial smile from censure free ;
’T was meant for merit, though it fell or me.
Since Brunswick's smile has authoriz'd my Muse,
Chaste be her conduct, and fublime her views.
False praises are the whoredoms of the pen,
Which prostitute fair fame to worthless men:
This prophanation of celestial fire
Makes fools defpife, what wise men should admire.
Let those I praise to diftant times be known,
Not by their author's merit, but their own.
If others think the task is hard, to weed
From verse rank flattery's vivacious feed,
And rooted deep; one means must set them free;
Patron! and patriot ! let them sing of thee.
While vulgar trees ignobler honours wear,
Nor those retain, when winter chills the year ;
The generous Orange, favourite of the sun,
With vigorous charms can through the seasons run;
Defies the storm with her tenacious green ;
And flowers and fruits in rival pomp are seen :
Where blossoms fall, ftill fairer blossoms spring;
And midst their sweets the feather’d poets sing.
On Walpole, thus, may pleas'd Britannia view
At once her ornament and profit too;
The fruit of service, and the bloom of fame,
Matur'd, and gilded by the royal beam.
He, when the nipping blafts of envy rife,
Its guilt can pity, and its rage despise ;
Lets fall no honours, but securely great
Unfaded holds the colour of his fate :
No winter knows, though ruffling factions press;
By wisdom deeply rooted in success;
One glory shed, a brighter is display'd *;
And the charm'd Muses shelter in his shade.
O how I long, enkindled by the theme,
In deep eternity to launch thy name !
Thy name in view, no rights of verse I plead,
But what chaste truth indites, old time shall read.
Behold! a man of ancient faith and blood, " Which, foon, beat high for arts, and public good; VOL. III.
Knight of the Bath, and then of the Garter,
“ Whose glory great, but natural appears,
': The genuine growth of services and years ;
“ No sudden exhalation drawn on high,
“ And fondly gilt by partial majesty :
“ One bearing greatest toils with greatest ease,
“ One born to serve us, and yet born to please :
“ Whom, while our rights in equal scales he lays,
• The prince may trust, and yet the people praise ;
“ His genius ardent, yet his judgment clear,
“ His tongue is flowing, and his heart sincere,
“ His council guides, his temper chears our ille,
« And, smiling, gives three kingdoms cause to smile."
Joy then to Britain, bleft with such a son,
To Walpole joy, by whom the prize is won;
Who nobly-conscious meets the smiles of, fate.
True greatness lies in daring to be great.
Let daftard souls, or affectation, run
To shades, nor wear bright honours fairly won;
Such men prefer, milled by false applause,
The pride of modesty to virtue's cause.
Honours, which make the face of virtue fair,
'Tis great to merit, and 'tis. wise to wear;
'Tis holding up the prize to public view,
Confirms grown virtue, and inflames the new;
Heightens the lustre of our age and clime,
And sheds rich feeds of worth for future time.
Proud chiefs alone, in fields of laughter fand,
Of old, this azure bloom of glory claim'd,
As when stern Ajax pour'd a purple flood,
The violet rose, fair daughter of his blood.
Now rival wisdom dares the wreath divide,
And both Minervas rise in equal pride ;
Proclaiming loud, a monarch fills the throne,
Who shines illustrious not in wars alone.
Let fame look lovely in Britannia’s eyes ;
They coldly court desert, who fame despise.
For what 's ambition, but fair virtue's fail ?
And what applause, but her propitious gale ?
When swell'd with that, she fleets before the wind
To glorious aims, as to the port design'd;
When chain'd, without it, to the labouring oar,
She toils ! the pants ! nor gains the flying shore,
From her sublime pursuits, or turn’d aside
By blasts of envy, or by fortune's tide :
For one that has succeeded ten are lost,
Of equal talents, ere they make the coast.
Then let renown to worth divine incite,
With all her beams, but throw those beams aright.
Then merit droops, and genius downward tends,
When godlike glory, like our land, descends,
Custom the garter long confin’d to few,
gave to birth, exalted virtue's due :
Walpole has thrown the proud enclosure down;
And high desert embraces fair renown.
Though rival d, let the peerage smiling see
(Smiling, in justice to their own degree,)
This proud reward by majesty bestow'd
On worth like that whence first the peerage flow'd.
From frowns of fate Britannia's bliss to guard,
Let subjects merit, and let kings reward,
Gods are most Gods by giving to excel,
And kings most like them, by rewarding well.
Though strong the twanging nerve, and drawn aright,
Short is the winged arrow's upward fight;
But if an eagle it transfix on high,
Lodg'd in the wound, it foars into the sky.
Thus while I fing thee with unequal lays,
And wound perhaps that worth I mean to praise ;
; Yet I transcend myself, I rise in fame,
Not lifted by my genius, but my theme.
No more : for in this dread suspense of fate,
Now kingdoms fluctuate, and in dark debate
Weigh peace and war, now Europe's eyes are bent
On mighty Brunswick, for the great event,
Brunswick of kings the terror or defence !
Who dares detain thee at a world's expence ?