A Collection of Poems: In Six Volumes

Black as the whirlwinds of the north,1

St. J-n's fell Genius iffu'd forth,

And Pelham fled to heav'n!

By angels watch'd in Eden's bow'rs,
Our parents pafs'd their peaceful hours,

Nor guilt nor pain they knew;
But on the day which usher'd in
The hell-born train of mortal fin,
The heav'nly guards withdrew.

Look down, much honour'd fhade, below,
Still let thy pity aid our woe;

Stretch out thy healing hand;
Resume those feelings, which on earth
Proclaim'd thy patriot love and worth,
And fav'd a finking land.

Search with thy more than mortal eye,

The breasts of all thy friends: defcry

What there has got poffeffion.

See if thy unfufpecting heart,
In fome for truth miftook not art,
For principle, profession.

From

From thefe, the pefts of human kind,
Whom royal bounty cannot bind,

Protect our parent King:
Unmask their treach'ry to his fight,
Drag forth the vipers into light,

And crush them ere they fting.

If fuch his truft and honours fhare,
Again exert thy guardian care,

Each venom'd heart disclose;
On Him, on Him, our all depends,
Oh fave him from his treach'rous friends,
He cannot fear his foes.

Whoe'er fhall at the helm prefide,
Still let thy prudence be his guide,

To stem the troubled wave;
But chiefly whifper in his ear,
"That GEORGE is open, juft, fincere,
"And dares to fcorn a knave."

No selfish views t' oppress mankind,
No mad ambition fir'd thy mind,
To purchase fame with blood;

Thy bofom glow'd with purer heat;
Convinc'd that to be truly great,
Is only to be good.

To hear no lawless paffion's call,
To ferve thy King, yet feel for all,

Such was thy glorious plan!

Wisdom with gen'rous love took part,
Together work thy head and heart,
The Minifter and Man.

Unite, ye kindred fons of worth;
Strangle bold faction in its birth;

Be Britain's weal your view!
For this great end let all combine,
Let virtue link each fair defign,
And Pelham live in you.

VER

S E S

Written at MONTAUBAN in FRANCE, 1750.

By the Rev. Mr. JOSEPH WARTON.

ARN, how delightful wind thy willow'd waves,
But ah! they fructify a land of slaves!

In vain thy bare-foot, fun-burnt peasants hide

With luscious grapes yon' hill's romantic fide;

No cups nectareous fhall their toils repay,

The priest's, the foldier's, and the fermier's prey:
Vain glows this fun in cloudless glory dreft,
That strikes fresh vigour through the pining breast;
Give me, beneath a colder, changeful sky,
My foul's beft, only pleasure, LIBERTY!
What millions perish'd near thy mournful flood
When the red papal tyrant cry'd out-"Blood!"
Less fierce the Saracen, and quiver'd Moor,
That dash'd thy infants 'gainst the stones of yore,
Be warn'd, ye nations round; and trembling fee
Dire fuperftition quench humanity!

Alluding to the perfecutions of the proteftants, and the wars of the Saracens, carried on in the Southern provinces of France.

By all the chiefs in Freedom's battles loft;

By wife and virtuous ALFRED's aweful ghoft;
By old GALGACUS' fcythed, iron car,

That swiftly, whirling through the walks of war, a
Dash'd Roman blood, and crufh'd the foreign throngs;
By holy Druids' courage-breathing fongs;

;

By fierce BONDUCA's fhield, and foaming steeds;
By the bold peers that met on Thames's meads
By the fifth HENRY's helm, and lightning fpear,
O LIBERTY, my warm petition hear

Be ALBION ftill thy joy! with her remain,
Long as the furge shall lash her oak-crown'd plain! }

AX{*}X{*}X

}:X:{*}X{*}X{*}*K*••

He fat on Andes' topmost stone,

And heard a thousand nations groan;

For grief his feathery crown he tore,

To fee huge PLATA foam with gore;
VOL. IV.