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Who, fuch a length of years, 'midst party rage
And veering patriots, with deserv'd applause, In place, in pow'r, has shewn, from youth to age,
True to his King and to his country's cause?
On whose firm credit, ere the terms were known,
Have Britain's wealthy fons so oft rely'd,
Or on whose word such millions been supply'd!
Hence to thy toil's each distant nation pays
That just regard which envy here denies ; Hence, future annals shall record thy praise,
And lasting trophies to thy honour rise:
Who, when of old the public torrent ran,
With boilt'rous rage, polluted from its source, In early life, with care and cost began
To check, to turn, and regulate its course?
Who, unreproach'd, has since for half an age,
In freedom's cause fuch ftedfast zeal approv'd? Who could th' esteem of Sire and Son engagey,
By each entrusted, and by each belov'd ?
And tho' detraction now these wreaths would tear, And break those bands whence all our triumphs
flow, Who plac'd our Tully in the consul's chair ? • To whose advice this statesman do we owe ? C5
Say, when Hortensius in the senate rose,
Who on his rival fix'd his sov’reign's choice ? That well weigh'd choice, deplor'd by Britain's fo,
And prais'd with transport by the public voice.
Still may the world, distinguish d pair, behold
What bliss your country to this union owes ! Still to the winds her conqu’ring flags unfold,
And pour her strength collected on her foes !
And oh! in glorious radiance tho' the flies
Of envy Aoat, on brisk but transient wing, Their harmless rage regard with scornful eyes,
Nor heed their buzz- you cannot fear their fing.
E p I G R À M
ON THE BATTLE OF MINDEN..
IN antient times the Roman laws decreed
rewards, where Britons would be blam'd, He now, who saves our men, no crown obtains; Who saves our ships, we shoot him for his pains. Since these are fo, it follows then of course, Small's the reward «« for him who faves our horse."
ÓN MR. PITT'S RESIGNATION, IN 176
NE'er yet in vain did heav'n its omens send
ON THE DISMISSION
OF EARL TEMPLE FROM THE LIEUTENANCY OF
THE COUNTY OF BUCKS, IN 1763:
ON THE THIRTIETH OF NOVEMBER, BEING ST. ANDREW'S DAY, AND THE BIRTH-DAY
OF THE PRINCESS, DOWAGER OF WALES.
HAIL black November, in whose foggy rear
And now while. Andrew and Augusta smile,
:: Swell, curled waves, high as Jove's roof; Your incivilities do plainly thew,
That innocence is tempest proof
A private closet is to me;
And innocence my liberty :
Where tempting objects are not seen ;
'To keep rogues out, and keep me in.
Malice is now grown charitable, sure;
And whilft I wish to be retir'd,
Into this private room I'm turn'd;
The salamander should be burn'd.
The Cynic hugs his poverty,
The pelican her wilderness ;.
Naked on frozen Caucafus.
I'm in this cabinet lock'd' up,
Like some high-prized margarite ;
I'm cloister'd up from public sight..