Hew, fquare, and rear, magnificent, the ftone,
And give our oaks a glory not their own!
What life demands by this obeys her call,

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And added elegance confummates all.
Thus ftately cities, ftatelier navies rife,
And spread our grandeur under distant skies.
From Liberty each nobler fcience sprung,
A Bacon brighten'd, and a Spenfer fung:
A Clarke and Locke new tracks of truth explore,
And Newton reaches heights unreach'd before.
What Trade fees Property that wealth maintain,
Which Industry no longer dreads to gain;
What tender confcience kneels with fears 1efign'd, 205
Enjoys her worship, and avows her mind;
What genius now from want to fortune climbs,
And to fafe Science every thought fublimes;
What Royal Power, from his fuperior state,
Sees public happiness his own create;

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But kens thofe patriot-fouls, to which he owes
Of old each fource, whence now each bleffing flows?
And if fuch fpirits from their heaven defcend,
And blended flame, to point one glorious end;

Flame from one breaft, and thence to Britain fhine, 215
What love, what praise, O Walpole, then is thine?

THE

VOLUNTEER LAUREAT.

A PO E M.

ON HER

MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 1731-2.

NO. I.

TWICE twenty tedious moons have roll'd away,
Since hope, kind flatterer! tun'd my penfive lay,
Whispering, that you, who rais'd me from despair,
Meant, by your smiles, to make life worth my care;
With pitying hand an orphan's tears to skreen
And o'er the motherlefs extend the queen.

'T'will be the prophet guides the poet's strain !
Grief never touch'd a heart like your's in vain :
Heaven gave you power, because you love to blefs;
And pity, when you feel it, is redress.

Two fathers join'd to rob my claim of one!

My mother too thought fit to have no fon!
The senate next, whose aid the helpless own,
Forgot my infant wrongs, and mine alone!
Yet parents pitylefs, nor peers unkind,
Nor titles loft, nor woes myfterious join'd,

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Strip me of hope-by heaven thus lowly laid,
To find Pharaoh's daughter in the shade.

You

You cannot hear unmov'd, when wrongs implore,
Your heart is woman, though your mind be more; 20
Kind, like the power who gave you to our prayers,
You would not lengthen life to sharpen cares;
They, who a barren leave to live bestow,
Snatch but from death to facrifice to woe.
Hated by her from whom my life I drew,
Whence fhould I hope, if not from heaven and you?
Nor dare I groan beneath affliction's rod,
My queen my mother, and my father-God.
The pitying Mufes faw me wit pursue;

A bastard-fon, alas! on that fide too,
Did not your eyes exalt the poet's fire,
And what the Mufe denies, the queen infpire ?
While rifing thus your heavenly foul to view,
I learn, how angels think, by copying you.

Great princess! 'tis decreed-once every year
I march uncall'd your Laureat Volunteer;
Thus fhall your poet his low genius raise,

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And charm the world with truths too vakt for praise.
Nor need I dwell on glories all your own,
Since furer means to tempt your fmiles are known; 40
Your Poet fhall allot your lord his part,

And paint him in his noblest throne-your heart.
Is there a greatnefs that adorns Him beft,

A rifing with, that ripens in his breast ?

Has He foremeant fome diftant age to blefs,

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Difarm oppreffion, or expel diftrefs?
Plans. He fome scheme to reconcile mankind,
People the feas, and bufy every wind?

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Would he by pity the deceiv'd reclaim,
And smile contending factions into shame?
Would his example lend his laws a weight,
And breathe his own foft morals o'er his state?
The Muse shall find it all, fhall make it seen,
And teach the world his praife, to charm his queen.
Such be the annual truths my verse imparts
Nor frown, fair favourite of a people's hearts!
Happy if, plac'd, perchance, beneath your eye,
My Muse, unpenfion'd, might her pinions try;
Fearless to fail, whilft you indulge her flame,
And bid me proudly boaft your Laureat's name; 60
Renobled thus by wreaths my queen bestows,
I lofe all memory of wrongs and woes.

GREA

NO. II.

REAT princefs, 'tis decreed! once every year, I march uncall'd, your Laureat Volunteer." So fung the Mufe; nor fung the Muse in vain : My queen accepts, the year renews the strain.

Ere

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Ere firft your influence fhone with heavenly aid,
Each thought was terror; for each view was fhade.
Fortune to life each flowery path deny'd;
No science learn'd to bloom, no lay to glide.
Inftead of hallow'd hill, or vocal vale,
Or ftream, fweet-echoing to the tuneful tale;
Damp dens confin'd, or barren deferts spread,
With spectres haunted, and the Mufes fled;
Ruins in penfive emblem feem to rife,
And all was dark, or wild, to Fancy's eyes.

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But hark! a gladdening voice all nature chears! 15
Difperfe, ye glooms! a day of joy appears?
Hail, happy day!-'Twas on thy glorious morn,
The firft, the fairest of her fex was born!

How fwift the change! Cold, wintery forrows fly;
Where-e'er the looks, delight furrounds the eye! 20
Mild fhines the fun, the woodlan is warble round,
The vales fweet echo, fweet the rocks refound!
In cordial air foft fragrance floats along;
Each scene is verdure, and each voice is fong!

Shoot from yon orb divine, ye quickening rays! 25 Boundlefs, like her benevolence, ye blaze!

Soft emblems of her bounty, fall ye showers!
And sweet afcend, and fair unfold ye flowers!
Ye rofes, lilies, you we earliest claim,
In whiteness, and in fragrance, match her fame!
'Tis yours to fade, to fame like hers is due
Undying fweets, and bloom for ever new.
Ye bloffoms, that one varied landscape rife,
And fend your fcentful tribute to the skies ;
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