Black as the whirlwinds of the north,
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 mistook 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 share,
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 ftem 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' opprefs mankind,
No mad ambition fir'd thy mind,

To purchase fame with blood;

1

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 Minister 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.

VERS

ES

Written at MONTAUBAN in FRANCE, 1750,

By the Rev. Mr. JOSEPH WARTON.

TARN, how delightful wind thy willow'd waves,

But ah! they fructify a land of flaves!

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 cloudlefs glory dreft,
That strikes fresh vigour through the pining breast
Give me, beneath a colder, changeful sky,
My foul's beft, only pleasure, LIBERTY!

b

What millions perish'd near thy mournful flood
When the red papal tyrant cry'd out" Blood!”
Lefs fierce the Saraçen, and quiver'd Moor,
That dafh'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

By all the chiefs in Freedom's battles loft;

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

That swiftly, whirling through the walks of war,
Dash'd Roman blood, and crush'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, a
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!

X{*}X{*}X{*

The Revenge of AMERICA.

2

By the Same.

HEN fierce PISARRO's legions flew W

WHE

O'er ravag'd fields of rich Peru,
Struck with his bleeding people's woes,
Old India's aweful Genius rofe.
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.

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