II.

But that thy country's high affairs
Employ thy time, demand thy cares,
You shou'd renew your flight;
You only fhou'd this theme pursue-------
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 publick voice;

Wifely his royal Sire confign'd

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 Virtue's various charms you taught,
With happiness and glory fraught,

How her unfhaken 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,

'Midft forrow, cares, and dire dismay,
Brought calm, and sure relief;

He fcrutiniz'd his noble heart,

Found Virtue had perform'd her part,
And peaceful flept the chief.

VIII.

From thee he early learnt to feel

The Patriot's warmth for England's weal;

(True Valour's nobleft fpring)

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 heav'n, fo foon
Would pay thy toils, reward thy care,
Confenting bend to ev'ry pray'r,

And all thy wishes crown.

VOL. IV.

Q

X. We

1

X.

We faw 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 spear,
And fet the nations 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 fhare of praise?

XII.

Nor is thy fame to thee decreed

For life's fhort date: when William's head,

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.

T

To ftop your tears, to hide your pain,
Or check your honeft rage;

Give forrow and revenge

their scope,

My present 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 ev'ry forrow be exprest,

Beat with your wings each mournful breast,

And drop the natʼral tear.

III.

In height of fong, in beauty's pride,

By fell Grimalkin's claws he died

But vengeance fhall have way;

On pains and tortures I'll refine;
Yet, Matzel, that one death of thine,
His nine will ill repay.

IV.

For thee, my bird, the facred Nine,

Who lov'd thy tuneful notes, fhall join
In thy funereal verse :

My painful task fhall be to write

Th' eternal dirge which they indite,
And hang it on thy hearse.

V.

In vain I lov'd, in vain I mourn

My bird, who never to return

Is fled to happier fhades,

Where Lesbia fhall for him prepare

The place moft charming, and most fair
Of all th' Elyfian glades.
VI.

There fhall thy notes in cyprefs grove
Sooth wretched ghosts that died for love;
There fhall thy plaintive strain

Lull impious Phædra's endless grief,

To Procris yield fome short relief,
And foften Dido's pain.

VII.

'Till Proferpine by chance fhall hear
Thy notes, and make thee all her care,
And love thee with my love;

While each attendant's foul fhall praife
The matchlefs Matzel's tuneful lays,

And all his fongs approve.

MAR