Thee, Halifax. To thy capacious mind,
O man approv'd, is Britain's wealth confign'd.
Her coin, while Naffau fought, debas'd a: d rude,
By thee in beauty and in truth renew'd,
An arduous work! again thy charge we fee,
And thy own care once more returns to thee.
O form'd in every scene to awe and please,
Mix wit with pomp, and dignity with ease:
Though call'd to fhine aloft, thou wilt not fcorn
To fmile on arts thyfelf did once adorn:
For this thy name fucceeding time fhall praife,
And envy lefs thy garter, than thy bays.
The Mufe, if fir'd with thy enlivening beams,
Perhaps shall aim at more exaited themes,
Record our monarch in a nobler frain,
And fing the opening wonders of his reign;
Bright Carolina's heavenly beauties trace,
Her valiant confort and his blooming race.
A train of kings their fruitful love fupplics,
A glorious fcene to lion's ravish d eyes;
Who fees by Brunswick's hand her fceptrefway d,
And through his line from age to age convey'd.

AN IMITATION

OF THE PROPHECY OF NEREUS.

FROM HORACE. BOOK II. ODE XV.

"Dicam infigne, recens, adhuc

"Indictum ore alio non fecus in jugis "Ex fomnis ftupet Euias

"Hebrum profpiciens, & nive candidam "Thracen, ac pede barbaro "Luftratam Rhodopen."

A

HOR

S Mar his round one morning took,
(Whom fome call earl, and fome call du' e)

And his new brethren of the blade,
Shivering with fear and froft, furvey'd,
On Perth's bleak hil's he chanc'd to spy®
An aged wizard fix foot high,
With bristled hai, and vifage blighted,
Wall-eye'd, bare-haunch'd and fecond-fighted.
The grizly fage in thought profound
Beheld the chief with back fo round,
Then roll'd his eye-balls to and fro
O'er his paternal hills of fnow,
And into thefe tremendous fpeeches
Broke forth the prophet without breeches.
Into what ills betray'd, by thee,
This ancient kingdom do i fee!
Her realms un-peopled and forlorn!
Wee's me that ever thou wert born!
Proud English loons (our clans o'ercome)
On Scottish pads fhall amble home:
I fee them dreft in bonnets blue
(The spoils of thy rebellious crew);
I fee the target caft away,

And chequer'd plaid become their prey,
The chequer'd plaid to make a gown
For many a lafs in London town.

In vain thy hungry mountaineers
Come forth in all thy warlike geers,

The fhield, the piftol, durk, and dagger,
I which they daily wont to fwagger,
And oft have fally'd out to pillage
The hen-roofts of fome peaceful village,
Or, while their neighbours were asleep,
Have carry'd off a lowland fheep.

What boots thy high-born hofts of beggars, Mac-leans, Mac-kenzies, and Mac-gregors, With popish cut-throats, perjur d ruffians, And Fofter troop of raggamuffins?

In vain thy lads around thee bandy,
Inflam'd with bag-pipe and with brandy.
Doth not bold Sutherland the trufty,
With heart fo true, and voice fo ruity,
A loyal foul thy troops affright,
While hoarfely he demands the fight?
Doft thou not generous lay dread,
The braveft hand, the wifeft head?
Undaunted doft thou hear th' alarms
Of hoary Athol fheath'd in arms?

Douglas, who draws his lineage down
From Thanes and Peers of high renown,
Fiery, and young, and uncontrol'd,
With knights, and fquires, and barons bold,
His noble houfhold-band) advances,
And on the milk-white courfer prances.
Thee Forfar to, the combat dares,
Grown fwarthy in Iberian wars:
And Monroe, kindled into rage,
Sourly deles thee to engage;

He'll rout thy foot, though ne'er so many,
And horfe to boot-if thou hadst any.

But fee Argyll, with watchful eyes,
Lodg'd in his deep entrenchments lies!
Couch'd like a lion in thy way,
He waits to fpring upon his prey;
While like a herd of timorous deer,
Thy army fhakes and pants with fear,
Led by the r doughty general's fkill,
From frith to frith from hill to hill.

Is thus thy haughty promise paid
That to the Chevalier was made,
When thou didst oaths and duty barter,
For dukedom, generalfhip, and garter?
Three moons thy Jemmy fhall command,
With Highland fceptre in his hand,
Too good for his pretended birth,

-Then down fhall fall the king of Perth.
is fo decreed: for George fhall reign,
And traitors be forfworn in vain.
Heaven fhall for ever on him smile.
And bless him ftill with an Argyll.
While theu, purfued by vengeful foes,
Condemn'd to barren rocks and fnows,
And hinder'd paffing Inverlocky,
Shall burn the clan, and curfe poor Jocky.

Though much you fuffer, think I fuffer more,
Worfe than an exile on my native fhore.
Companions in your mafter's flight you roam,
Unenvy'd by your haughty foes at home;
For ever near the royal outlaw's fide,
You hare his fortunes, and his hopes divide,
On glorious fchemes, and thoughts of empire
dwell,

And with imaginary titles fwell.

Say, for thou know't I own his facred line,
The paffive doctrine and the right divine,
Say, what new fuccours does the chief prepare
The ftrength of armics? or the force of prayer?
Dees he from heaven or earth his hopes derive?
From faints departed, or from priefts alive?
Not faints nor priests can Brunswick's troops
withstand,

And beads drop ufelefs through the zealot's hand;
Heaven to our vows may future kingdoms owe,
But kill and courage win the crowns below.
Ere to thy cause, and thee, my heart inclin`d,
Orlove to party
had feduc'd my mind,

In female joys I took a dull delight,
Slept all the morn, and punted half the night:
But now, with fears and public care poteft,
The church, the church, for ever-breaks my reft.
The poftboy on my pillow I explore,
And lift the news of every foreign fhore,
Studious to find new friends, and new allies;
What armies march from Sweden in difguife:
How Spain prepares her banners to unfold,
And Rome deal out her bleflings and her gold:
Then o'er the map my finger, taught to ftray,
Crofs many a region marks the winding way;
From fea to fea, from realm to realm I roye,
And grow a meer geographer by love :
But fill Avignon, and the pleafing coaft
That holds thee banish'd, claims my care the moft:
Oft on the well-known spot I fix my eyes,
And fpan the distance that between us lies.

Let not our James, though foil'd in arms, def❘ pair,

Whilft on his fide he reckons half the fair:
In Britain's lovely ifle a fhining throng
War in his caufe, a thoufand beauties ftrong.
Th' unthinking victors vainly boaft their powers;
Be theirs the musket, while the tongue is ours.
We reafon with fuch fluency and fire,
The beaux we baffle, and the learned tire,
Against her prelates plead the church's caufe,
Aud from our judges vindicate the laws.
Then mourn not, hapless prince, thy kingdoms left;
A crown, though late, thy facred brows mayboat;
Heaven feems through us thy empire to decree;
Thote who win hearts, have given their hearts to
thee.

Haft thou not heard that when, profufely gay,
Our well-dreft rivals grac'd their fovereign's day,
We Rubborn damfels met the public view
In lothfome wormwood, and repenting rue?
What Whigs ut trembled, when our spotlefs band
In virgin roles whiten'd half the land
Who can forget what fears the foe poffeft,
When oaken-boughs mark d every loyal breast!

Lefs fear'd than Medway's ftream the Norman food,

When crofs the plain he spy'd a marching wood,
Till, near at hand, a gleam of fwords betray'd
The youth of Kent beneath its wandering fhade?
Those who the fuccours of the fair defpife,
May find that we have nails as well as eyes.
Thy female bards, O prince by fortune ctoft,
At least more courage than thy men can boaft:
Our fex has dar'd the mug-house chiefs to meet,
And purchas'd fame in many a well-fought street.
From Drury-lane, the region of renown,
The land of love, the Paphos of the town,
Fair patriots fallying oft have put t flight
With all their poles, the guardians of the night,
And bore, with fereams of triumph, to their fide
The leader's flaff in all its painted pride.
Nor fears the hawker in her warbling note
To vend the difcontented ftatefman s thought,
Though red with ftripes, and recent from the thong,
Sore fnitten for the love of facred fong,
The tuneful ters ftill pursue their trade,
Like Philomela carkling in the shade.
Poor Trott attends, forgetful of a fare,
And hums in concert o er his eafy chair.

Meanwhile, regardless of the royal caufe,
His fword for James no brother fovereign draws.
The Pope himself, furrounded with alarms,
To France his bulls, to Corfu fends his arms,
And though he hears his darlin fon's com laint,
Can hardly fpare one tutelary faint,
But lifts them all to guard his own abodes,
And into ready money coins his gods.
The dauntless Swede, purfued by vengeful foes,
Scarce keeps his own hereditary fnows;
Nor muft the friendly root of kind Lorrain
With feafts regale our garter'd you h again.
Safe, Bar-le-Duc, within thy filent grove
The pheasant now may perch, the hare may rove:
The knight, who aims unerring from afar,
Th' adventurous knight, now quits the. fylvan

war:

Thy brinded boars may flumber undifmay'd,
Or grunt fecure beneath the chefnu fhade.
Inconftant Orleans (til we mourn the day,

hat truited Orleans with imperial sway,)
Far o'er the Alps our helplefs monarch fends,
Far from the call of his defponding friends.
Such are the terms to gain Britannia's grace!
And fuch the terrors of the Brunwick race!
Was it for this the fun's whole luitre fail d
And fudden midnight o'er the moo prevail'd!
For this did heaven difplay to n.ortal eyes
Aerial knights and combats in the skies!
Was it for this Northumbrian freams look'd red!
And Thames dr.ven backward fhow'd his fecret
bea!

Falfe auguries! th' infulting victor's fcorn!
Ev'n our own prodigies against us turn!

portents conftrued on our fide in vain! Let never Tory trutt eclipfe again! Run clear, ye fountains! be at place, ye kies! Aud, hames, henceforth, to thy green borders rife!

Oh! call to mind thy thousands flain,

And Almanara's fatal plain;

While yet the Gallic errors fleep,

Nor Britain thunders from the deep.

PROLOGUE

TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, 1713.

WHAT ftates be free,

Is fit at length by Anna's juft decree:

Whefe brows the Mufe's facred wreath fhall fit,
Is left to you, the arbiters of wit.

With beating hearts the rival poets wait,
Till you, Athenians, fhall decide their fate;
Secure, when to thefe learned feats they come,
equal judgment, and impartial doom.
Poor is the player's fame, whofe whole renown
1s but the praife of a capricious town;
While, with mock-majefty and fancy'd power,
He struts in robes, the monarch of an hour.
Oft wide of nature muft he act a part,
Make love in tropes, in bombaft break his heart:
In ture and fimile refign his breath,
And rhyme and quibble in the pangs of death.
We bluth, when plays like thefe receive applaufe;
And laugh, in fecret, at the tears we caufe;
With honeft fcorn our own fuccefs diídain,
A worthless honour, and inglorious gain.
No trifling fcenes at Oxford fhall appear;
Well, what we blush to act, may you to hear:
To you our fam'd, our standard plays we bring,
The work of poets whom you taught to fing:
Though crown'd with fame, they dare not think

it due,

Ner take the laurel till beftow'd by you.
Great Cato's felf, the glory of the ftage,
Who charms, corrects, exalts, and fires the age,
Begs here he may be tried by Roman laws;
To you, O fathers, he fubraits his caufe;
He refts not in the people's general voice,
Till you, the fenate, have confirm'd his choice.
Fine is the fecret, delicate the art,

To wind the paffions, and command the heart;
For fancy'd ills to force our tears to flow,
And make the generous foul in love with woe:
To raife the fhades of heroes to our view;
Rebuild fall'n empires, and old time renew.
How hard the tafk! how rare the godlike rage!
Nene fhould prefume to dictate for the Stage,
But fuch as boast a great extenfive mind,
Enrich'd by Nature, and by Art refin'd.
Who from the ancient stores their knowledge
bring,

And tafted early of the Mufes' fpring.
May none pretend upon her throne to fit,
But fuch as, fprung from you, are born to wit:
Chofen by the mob, their lawless claim we flight:
Xours is the old hereditary right.

great,

Be funk by heaven to fuch a difmal state!
How meagre, pale, neglected, worn with care!
What steady faduefs, and auguft despair!
In thofe funk eyes the grie! of years I trace,
And forrow feems acquainted with that face.
Tears, which his heart difdain'd, from me o'er-
flow,

Thus to furvey God's substitute below,
In folemn anguish, and majestic woe.

When fpeil'd of empire by unhallow'd hands,
Sold by his flaves, and held in impious bands;
Rent from, what oft had sweeten'd anxious life,
His helple's children, and his bofom we;
Doom'd for the faith, plebeian rage to ftand,
And fall a victim for the guilty land;
Then thus was feen, abandon'd and forlorn,
The king, the father, and the faint to mourn.—
How could'ft thou artift, then thy kill difplay?
Thy steady hands thy favage heart betray:
Near thy bold work the ftunn'd fpectators faint,
Nor fee unmov'd, what thou unmov'd could'

paint.

What brings to mind each various fcene of woe,
Th' infulting judge, the folemn-mocking fhow,
The horrid fentence, and accurfed blow.

Where then, juft heaven, was thy unactive hand,

Thy idle thunder, and thy lingering brand!
Thy adamantine fhield, thy angel wings,
And the great Genii of anointed kings!
Treafon and fraud fhall thus the stars regard!
And injur'd virtue meet this fad reward!
So fad, none like, can Time's eld records tell,
Though Pompey bled, and poor Darius fell.
All names but one too low-that one too high:
All paralle's are wrong, or blafphemy.

O power fupreme! How fecret are thy ways
Yet man, vain man, would trace the myftic maze
With foo ith wifdom, arguing, charge his God,
His balance hold, and guide his angry rod;
New-mould the spheres, and mend the iky's defign,
And found th' immenfe with his fhort fcanty line.
Do thou, my foul, the deftin'd period wait,
When God fhall folve the dark decrees of fate,
His now unequal difpenfations clear,
And make all wife and beautiful appear;
When fuffering faints aloft in beams fhall glow,
And profperous traitors gnafh their teeth below.
Suchboding thoughtsdid guilty confcience dart,
A pledge of hell to dying Cromwell's heart:

'I hen