STEPHEN POYNTZ, Efq; &c. &c.

By the Honourable

Sir CHARLES HAN. WILLIAMS, Kt. of the Bath.

Senfere quid mens rite, quid indoles
Nutrita fauftis fub penetralibus
Poffet

Doctrina fed vim promovet infitam,

Relique cultus pectora roborant.

1.

HOR. Lib. IV. Od. 4.

HILST William's deeds and William's praise

WHILST

Each English breast with transport raise,

Each English tongue employ;

Say, Poyntz, if thy elated heart

Affumes not a fuperior part,

A larger share of joy?

II.

But that thy country's high affairs

Employ thy time, demand thy cares,

You should renew your flight;

You

You only should this theme purfue-
Who can for William feel like you?
Or who like you can write?
III.

Then to rehearse the Hero's praise,
To paint this funshine of his days,
The pleafing task be mine-
To think on all thy cares o'erpaid,
To view the Hero you have made,

That pleafing part be thine.
IV.

Who first should watch, and who call forth

This youthful Prince's various worth,

You had the public voice;

Wifely his royal Sire confign'd

To you, the culture of his mind,
And England bleft the choice.
V.

You taught him to be early known
By martial deeds of courage fhewn:

From this, near Mona's flood,

By his victorious Father led,

He flesh'd his maiden fword, he shed,

And prov'd th' illuftrious blood.

VI. Of

VI.

Of Virtue's various charms you taught,

With happiness and glory fraught,

How her unshaken pow'r

Is independent of fuccefs;

That no defeat can make it lefs,

No conqueft make it more.
VII.

This, after Tournay's fatal day,

'Midst forrow, cares, and dire difmay,

Brought calm, and fure relief;

He fcrutiniz'd his noble heart,

Found Virtue had perform'd her part,

And peaceful slept the Chief.
VIII.

From thee he early learnt to feel

The Patriot's warmth for England's weal;

(True Valour's noblest spring)

To vindicate her Church diftreft;

To fight for Liberty oppreft;

To perish for his King.

IX.

Yet fay, if in thy fondest scope

Of thought, you ever dar'd to hope

That bounteous heaven fo foon

Would

Would pay thy toils, reward thy care,
Confenting bend to every pray'r,
And all thy wishes crown?

X.

We saw a wretch, with trait'rous aid,

Our King's and Church's rights invade:
And thine, fair Liberty!

We faw thy Hero fly to war,

Beat down Rebellion, break her fpear,
And fet the nation free.
XI.

Culloden's field, my glorious theme,
My rapture, vifion, and my dream,

Gilds the young Hero's days:

Yet can there be one English heart

That does not give thee, Poyntz, thy part,

And own thy share of praise?

For victories to come,

The frequent laurel fhall receive:

Chaplets for thee our fons fhall weave,

And hang 'em on thy tomb..

ODE

ODE on the Death of MATZEL, a favourite Bull-finch, addrefs'd to Mr. ST PE, to whom the Author had given the Reversion of it when he left Drefden.

By the Same,

I.

ARY not, my St-pe, 'tis in vain

TR

To stop your tears, to hide your pain,

Or check your honeft rage;

Give forrow and revenge their scope,

My prefent joy, your future hope,

Lies murder'd in his cage.

II.

Matzel's no more, ye graces, loves,
Ye linnets, nightingales and doves,

Attend th' untimely bier;

Let every forrow be expreft,

Beat with your wings each mournful breast,

And drop the natʼral tear.

III. In