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In the more scenes your genius was display'd,
The greater debt was on Britannia laid :
They all conspir’d this mighty man to raise,
And

your new subjects proudly share the praise.
All share ; but may not we have leave to boast
That we contemplate, and enjoy it most?
This ancient nurse of arts, indulg'd by fate
On gentle Isis' bank, a calm retreat,
For
many

rolling ages justly fam’d,
Has through the world her loyalty proclaim’d;
And often pour'd (too well the truth is known !)
Her blood and treasure to support the throne !
For England's church her latest accents strain’d,
And freedom with her dying hand retain'd ;
No wonder then her various ranks agree
In all the fervencies of zeal, for thee.

What though thy birth a distant kingdom boast,
And seas divide thee from the British coast ?
The crown 's impatient to inclose thy head ;
Why stay thy feet? the cloth of gold is spread.
Our strict obedience through the world shall tell
That king 's a Briton, who can govern well!

THE

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Τ Η Ε

IN S T A L M E N T.

Τ Ο

THE RIGHT HON. SIR ROBERT WALPOLE.

KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER,

" Quæsitam Meritis."

HOR,

MDCCXXVI.

THE INSTA L M E N T.

W

ITH invocations fome their breasts inflame;

I need no Muse, a Walpole is my theme. Ye mighty dead, ye garter'd sons of praise ! Our morning stars ! our boast in former days! Which hovering o'er, your purple wings display, Lurd by the pomp of this distinguish'd day, Stoop, and attend : by one, the knee be bound; One, throw the mantle's crimson folds around; By that, the sword on his proud thigh be plac'd ; This, clasp the diamond-girdle round his waist; His breast, with rays, let just Godolphin spread; Wise Burleigh plant the plumage on his head ; And Edward own, since first he fixt the race, None prest fair glory with a swifter

pace. When fate would call some mighty genius forth To wake a drooping age to godlike worth, Or aid some favourite king's illustrious toil, It bids his blood with generous ardour boil; His blood, from virtue's celebrated source, Pour'd down the steep of time, a lengthen'd coursé ; That men prepar'd may just attention pay, Warn'd by the dawn to mark the glorious day, When all the scatter'd merits of his line Collected to a point, intensely shine.

See, Britain, see thy Walpole shine from far, His azure ribbon, and his radiant star;

A star

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