False Julius, ambush'd in this fair disguise,
Soon made the Roman liberties his prize.

No mask in basest minds ambition wears,
But in full light pricks up her ass's ears:
All I have sung are instances of this,
And prove my theme unfolded not amiss.
Ye vain! desist from your erroneous strife;
Be wise, and quit the false sublime of life,
The true ambition there alone resides,
Where justice vindicates, and wisdom guides ;
Where inward dignity joins outward state;
Our purpose good, as our achievement great;
Where public blessings public praise attend;
Where glory is our motive, not our end.

Wouldst thou be famed? Have those high deeds in view
Brave men would act, though scandal should ensue.
Behold a prince! whom no swoln thoughts inflame;
No pride of thrones, no fever after fame!
But when the welfare of mankind inspires,
And death in view to dear-bought glory fires,
Proud conquests then, then regal pomps delight;
Then crowns, then triumphs, sparkle in his sight;
Tumult and noise are dear, which with them bring
His people's blessing to their ardent king:
But, when those great heroic motives cease,
His swelling soul subsides to native peace;
From tedious grandeur's faded charms withdraws,
A sudden foe to splendour and applause;
Greatly deferring his arrears of fame,
Till men and angels jointly shout his name.
O pride celestial! which can pride disdain ;

O blest ambition! which can ne'er be vain.

From one famed Alpine hill, which props the sky, In whose deep womb unfathom❜d waters lie,

Here burst the Rhone, and sounding Po; there shine,
In infant rills, the Danube and the Rhine;
From the rich store one fruitful urn supplies,
Whole kingdoms smile, a thousand harvests rise.

In Brunswick such a source the muse adores,
Which public blessings through half Europe pours.
When his heart burns with such a godlike aim,
Angels and George are rivals for the fame;
George! who in foes can soft affections raise,
And charm envenom'd satire into praise.

Nor human rage alone his power perceives, But the mad winds, and the tumultuous waves. 1 Ev'n storms (death's fiercest ministers !) forbear, And, in their own wild empire, learn to spare. Thus, nature's self, supporting man's decree, Styles Britain's sovereign, sovereign of the sea. While sea and air, great Brunswick ! shook our state, And sported with a king's and kingdom's fate, Deprived of what she loved, and press'd by fear, Of ever losing what she held most dear, How did Britannia, like Achilles, weep, And tell her sorrows to the kindred deep! Hang o'er the floods, and, in devotion warm, Strive, for thee, with the surge, and fight the storm! What felt thy Walpole, pilot of the realm!

Our Palinurus2 slept not at the helm ;

His eye ne'er closed; long since inured to wake,
And out-watch every star for Brunswick's sake:
By thwarting passions toss'd, by cares oppress'd,
He found the tempest pictured in his breast:
But, now, what joys that gloom of heart dispel,
No powers of language-but his own, can tell;
His own, which nature and the graces form,
At will, to raise, or hush, the civil storm.

1 Alluding to the king in danger at sea.

2 Ecce Deus ramum Lethæo rore madentem, &c.

VIRG. lib. v.

OCEAN: AN ODE,

OCCASIONED BY HIS MAJESTY'S ROYAL ENCOURAGEMENT OF THE SEA SERVICE.

TO WHICH ARE PREFIXED AN ODE TO THE KING; AND A DISCOURSE
ON LYRIC POETRY.

I THINK myself obliged to recommend to you a consideration of the greatest importance; and I should look upon it as a great happiness, if, at the beginning of my reign, I could see the foundation laid of so great and necessary a work, as the increase and encouragement of our seamen in general; that they may be invited, rather than compelled by force and violence, to enter into the service of their country, as oft as occasion shall require it: a consideration worthy the representatives of a people great and flourishing in trade and navigation. This leads me to mention to you the case of Greenwich Hospital, that care may be taken, by some addition to that fund, to render comfortable and effectual that charitable provision, for the support and maintenance of our seamen, worn out, and become decrepit by age and infirmities, in the service of their country.-Speech, Jan. 27, 1727-8.

ODE TO THE KING.-1728.

OLD ocean's praise
Demands my lays ;

A truly British theme I sing;
A theme so great,

I dare complete,

And join with ocean, ocean's king.

The Roman ode

Majestic flowed:

Its stream divinely clear, and strong;
In sense, and sound,

Thebes roll'd profound;

The torrent roar'd, and foam'd along.

Let Thebes, nor Rome,

So famed, presume

To triumph o'er a northern isle;

Late time shall know

The north can glow,

If dread Augustus deign to smile.

The naval crown

Is all his own!

Our fleet, if war, or commerce, call,

His will performs

Through waves and storms,

And rides in triumph round the ball.

No former race,
With strong embrace,

This theme to ravish durst expire ;

With virgin charms

My soul it warms,

And melts melodious on my lyre.

My lays I file

With cautious toil;

Ye graces! turn the glowing lines;
On anvils neat

Your strokes repeat;

At every stroke the work refines !

How music charms!

How metre warms!

Parent of actions, good and brave!
How vice it tames!

And worth inflames !

And holds proud empire o'er the grave! Jove mark'd for man

A scanty span,

But lent him wings to fly his doom;
Wit scorns the grave;

To wit he gave

With those we lift to life, we live ;
By fame enroll'd

With heroes bold,

And share the blessings which we give.

What hero's praise

Can fire my lays,

Like his, with whom my lay begun? "Justice sincere,

And courage clear,

Rise the two columns of his throne.

"How form'd for sway!
Who look, obey;

They read the monarch in his port:
Their love and awe

Supply the law;

And his own lustre makes the court :"

On yonder height,
What golden light

Triumphant shines? and shines alone? Unrivall'd blaze!

The nations gaze!

'Tis not the sun; 'tis Britain's throne.

Our monarch, there,
Rear'd high in air,

Should tempests rise, disdains to bend
Like British oak,

Derides the stroke;

His blooming honours far extend !

Beneath them lies,

With lifted eyes,

Fair Albion, like an amorous maid;
While interest wings

Bold foreign kings

To fly, like eagles, to his shade.

At his proud foot
The sea, pour'd out,

Immortal nourishment supplies;

Thence wealth and state,

And power and fate,

Which Europe reads in George's eyes.