Primeval of Saxonian chieftains old)
To George, great heir of Anglo-Saxon kings.
And Thou, Saxonia's brightest ornament Erewhile, now England's boast, and highest pride, Welcome to these congenial shores; to this
Ambiguous land, another Saxony.
See thine own people, thy compatriot tribes,
With heart-felt joy, and zealous loud acclaim,
Thy blest arrival hail. Tho' sever'd long
From their original soil, on foreign stock
Tho' grafted, not degenerate: still within
Works the wild vigor of the parent root.
Rough, hardy, brave; by force intractable,
Or lawless rule; patient of equal sway ;
With civil freedom tempering regal power.
Be this thy better country; nor regret
Thy natal plains, tho' dear: here thou shalt find
What largely shall o'erpay thy loss. Lo! here
Thy Parent, Brother, Friend, all charities
Compris'd in one, thy consort, with fond wish,
Expects thee; scepter'd George, with every grace
Adorn'd; yet more renown'd for virtue's praise,
Faith, honor, in green years wisdom mature,
True majesty with awful goodness crown'd.
He shall assuage thy grief: his thoughtful breast,
Studious of England's glory and Europe's weal,
Thou in return shalt sooth with tender smiles,
Endearing blandishment, and equal love.
Nor shall, heaven's gift, fruit of the genial bed
Be wanting; pledge of public happiness
Secure; dear source of long domestic joys.
Here shalt thou reign, a second Caroline;
Diffusing from the throne a milder ray,
Soft beauty's unexpressive influence sweet.
Prompt to relieve th' opprest; to wipe away
The widow's tears; to call forth modest worth;
To cherish drooping virtue: patroness
Of science and of arts; friend to the muse,
Of every grateful muse the favorite theme.
Hail, sovereign lady, dearest dread! accept Even now this homage of th' officious muse, That on the verge extreme of Albion's cliff With gratulation thy first steps prevents, Tho' mean, yet ardent; and salutes thine ear With kindred accents in Teutonic lays.
AND ACCESSION OF
KING GEORGE THE THIRD.
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE
WILLIAM PITT,
[Afterwards Earl of Chatham.]
BEING THE CONCLUDING COPY OF OXFORD VERSES.
So stream the sorrows that embalm the brave,
The tears that Science sheds on Glory's grave!
So pure the vows which classic duty pays
To bless another Brunswick's rising rays !—
O Pitt! if chosen strains have power to steal
Thy watchful breast awhile from Britain's weal;
If votive verse, from sacred Isis sent,
Might hope to charm thy manly mind, intent
On patriot plans which ancient Freedom drew,
Awhile with fond attention deign to view
This ample wreath, which all th' assembled Nine
With skill united have conspir'd to twine.
Yes, guide and guardian of thy country's cause ! Thy conscious heart shall hail with just applause The duteous Muse, whose haste officious brings Her blameless offering to the shrine of kings: Thy tongue well tutor'd in historic lore, Can speak her office and her use of yore: For such the tribute of ingenuous praise Her harp dispens'd in Graecia's golden days: Such were the palms, in isles of old renown, She cull'd to deck the guiltless monarch's crown; When virtuous Pindar, told with Tuscan gore How scepter'd Hiero stain'd Sicilia's shore, Or to mild Theron's raptur'd eye disclos'd Bright vales where spirits of the brave repos'd: Yet still beneath the throne, unbrib'd she sate, The decent hand-maid, not the slave of state: Pleas'd in the radiance of the regal name To blend the lustre of her country's fame: For, taught like ours, she dar'd with prudent pride, Obedience from dependance to divide :
Tho' princes claim'd her tributary lays,
With truth severe she temper'd partial praise;
Conscious she kept her native dignity,
Bold as her flights, and as her numbers free.
And sure if e'er the Muse indulg'd her strains,
With just regard, to grace heroic reigns,
Where could her glance a theme of triumph own
So dear to fame as George's trophied throne?
At whose firm base, thy stedfast soul aspires
To wake a mighty nation's ancient fires:
Aspires to baffle faction's specious claim,
Rouse England's rage, and give her thunder aim:
Once more the main her conquering banners sweep,
Again her commerce darkens all the deep.
Thy fix'd resolve renews each fair decree,
That made, that kept of yore, thy country free.
Call'd by thy voice, nor deaf to war's alarms,
Its willing youth the rural empire arms:
Again the lords of Albion's cultur'd plains
March the firm leaders of their faithful swains;
As erst stout archers from the farm or fold,
Flam'd in the van of many a baron bold.
Nor thine the pomp of indolent debate,
The war of words, the sophistries of state;
Nor frigid caution checks thy free design,
Nor stops thy stream of eloquence divine:
For thine the privilege, on few bestow'd,
To feel, to think, to speak for public good.
In vain Corruption calls her venal tribes;
One common cause, one common end prescribes ;
Nor fear nor fraud, or spares or screens the foe,
But spirit prompts, and valor strikes the blow.
O Pitt, while honor points thy liberal plan,
And o'er the minister exalts the man,
Isis congenial greets thy faithful sway,
Nor scorns to bid a statesman grace her lay;
For science still is justly fond to blend,
With thine, her practice, principles, and end.
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