Northward the bends, majestically bright,
And here fhe fixes her imperial light.
Be bold, be bold, my Mufe, nor fear to raise
Thy voice to her who was thy earliest praise :
What though the fullen fates refuse to shine,
Or frown fevere on thy audacious line;

Keep thy bright theme within thy fteady fight,
The clouds fhall fly before the dazzling light,
And everlasting day direct thy lofty flight :
Thou who haft never yet put on disguise
To flatter folly or descend to vice,

Let no vain fear thy generous ardour tame,
But ftand erect, and found as loud as Fame.

As when our eye, some prospect to pursue,
Descending from a hill, looks round to view,
Paffes o'er lawns and meadows, till it gains
Some beauteous fpot, and fixing there, remains :
With equal rapture my transported Mufe,
Flies other objects this bright theme to chufe.
Queen of our hearts, and charmer of our fight,
A monarch's pride, his glory, and delight,
Princefs ador'd and lov'd, if verse can give
A deathlefs name, thine fhall for ever live;
Invok'd where'er the British lion roars,
Extended as the feas that gird the British fhores.
The wife immortals in their feats above,
To crown their labours, ftill appointed Love :
Phoebus enjoy'd the goddess of the Sea,
Alcides had Omphalé, James has Thee.

}

O happy

O happy James! content thy mighty mind,
Grudge not the world, for ftill thy queen is kind;
To lie but at whofe feet, more glory brings,
Than 'tis to tread on fceptres and on kings:
Secure of empire in that beauteous breast,
Who would not give their crowns to be so blest?
Was Helen half so fair, so form'd for joy,
Well chofe the Trojan, and well burnt was Troy.
But ah! what ftrange viciffitudes of fate,
What chance attends on every worldly state!

As when the fkies were fack'd, the conquer'd gods,
Compell'd from heaven, forfook their bleft abodes;
Wandering in woods they fled from den to den,
Or, leading flocks, turn'd hirelings to men :
Or, as the stately pine erecting high

Her beauteous branches, fhooting to the sky,
If ftrucken by the thunderbolt of Jove,
Down falls at once the pride of all the grove,
Level with lowest earth lies the tall head,
That rear'd aloft, as to the clouds was fpread:
So

But ceafe, my Mufe, thy colours are too faint,
Hide with a veil thofe griefs that none can paint
This fun is fet---but fee in bright array
What hofts of heavenly light recruit the day!
Love in a fhining galaxy appears
Triumphant still, and Grafton leads the stars:
Ten thousand loves ten thousand several ways
Invade the lookers-on, who die to gaze,

Knowing

Knowing our dooms, as to the Syren's voice,

So fweet 's th' enchantment, that our fate 's our choice..
Who most resembles her, let next be nam'd,
Villiers for wifdom as for beauty fam'd:
Of a high race that conquering Beauty brings
To charm the world, and fubjects make of kings.
With what delight my Muse to Sandwich flies,
Whose wit is piercing as her sparkling eyes ;

Ah! how the mounts, and fpreads her aery wings,
And tunes her voice, when the of Ormond fings,
Of radiant Ormond, only fit to be

The fucceffor of beauteous Offory.
Richmond's a title that but nam'd implies
Majestic graces and victorious eyes;
Holmes and St. Albans rich in charms appear;
Hyde Venus is, the Graces are Kildare:
By Effex, and fair Rutenberg, we find
That beauty to no climate is confin'd.
Rupert, of royal blood, with modest grace,
Blushes to hear the triumphs of her face.
Careless, but yet fecure of conquest still,
Lu'fon, unaiming, never fails to kill *,
Guiltless of pride, to captivate, or shine,
Bright without art, fhe wounds without defign.
But Wyndham like a tyrant throws the dart,
And takes a cruel pleasure in the fmart ;
Proud of the ravage that her beauties make,

Delights in wounds, and kills for killing-fake;

Afferting the dominion of her eyes,

As heroes fight, for glory, not for prize.
The fkilful Mufe's earliest care has been
The praise of never-fading Mazarin ;
The poet and his theme, in fpight of Time,
For ever young, enjoy an endless prime.
With charms fo numerous Myra can furprize,
The lover knows not by which dart he dies;
So thick the volley, and the wound so sure,
No flight can fave, no remedy can cure.
Yet dawning in her infancy of light,
O fee another Brudenell heavenly bright,
Born to fulfil the glories of her line,
And fix Love's empire in that race divine.
Fain would my Mufe to Stowel bend her fight,
But turns aftonish'd from the dazzling light,
Nor dares attempt to climb the steepy flight.

O Kneller! like thy pictures were my fong,
Clear like thy paint, and like thy pencil strong,
Thefe matchlefs beauties fhould recorded be
Immortal in my verfe, as in thy gallery †.

*St. Evremond, who has celebrated Madam Mazarin under the name of Hortenfe.

+ The gallery of beauties at Hampton Court, drawn by Sir Godfrey Kneller.

ON

ON MY

LADY HYDE, .

HAVING THE SMALL-POX.

CARCE could the general joy for Mohun appear,
But new attempts fhow other dangers near;

Beauty 's attack'd in her imperia! fort,

Where all her Loves and Graces keep their court,
In her chief refidence befieg'd at last,

Laments to fee her faireft fields laid wafte.
On things immortal all-attempts are vain,
Tyrant Disease, 'tis lofs of time and pain;
Glut thy wild rage, and load thee with rich prize,
Torn from her cheeks, her fragrant lips and eyes,
As much vermilion, as much lustre take,
As might a Helen or a Venus make;
Like Thetis fhe fhall fruftrate thy vain rape,

And in variety of charms escape.

The twinkling stars drop numberlefs each night,
Yet fhines the radiant firmament as bright;

So from the ocean fhould the rivers drain,
Still would enough to drown the world remain.