TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET.
BEHOLD; the balance in the sky
Swift on the wintery fcale inclines:
To earthy caves the Dryads fly,
And the bare pastures Pan resigns.
Late did the farmer's fork o'erfprcad
With recent foil the twice-mown mead,
Tainting the bloom which autumn knows:
He whets the rufty coulter now,
He binds his oxen to the plough,
And wide his future harvest throws.
Now, London's bufy confines round,
By Kenfington's imperial towers,
From Highgate's rough defcent profound,.
Effexian heaths, or Kentifh bowers,
Where'er I pafs, I fee approach
Some rural statefman's eager coach
Hurried by fenatorial cares :
Where rural nymphs (alike within,
Afpiring courtly praise to win)
Debate their dress, reform their airs.
Say, what can now the country boast,
O Drake, thy footsteps to detain,
When peevish winds and gloomy froft
The funshine of the temper stain ?
Say, are the priests of Devon grown
Friends to this tolerating throne,
Champions for George's legal right?
Have general freedom, equal law,
Won to the glory of Nassau
Each bold Weffexian fquire and knight?
I doubt it much; and guess at least
That when the day, which made us free,
Shall next return, that facred feast
Thou better may`it observe with me.
With me the fulphurous treason old
A far inferior part shall hold
In that glad day's triumphal strain;
And generous William be rever'd,
Nor one untimely accent heard
Of James or his ignoble reign.
Then, while the Gascon's fragrant wine
With modest cups our joy supplies,
We'll truly thank the power divine
Who bade the chief, the patriot rife;
Rife from heroic ease (the spoil
Due, for his youth's Herculean toil,
From Belgium to her favior fon)
Rife with the fame unconquer'd zeal
For our Britannia's injur'd weal,
Her laws defac'd, her fhrines o'erthrown.
The tyrant from our shore,
Like a forbidden demon, fled;
And to eternal axile bore
Pontific rage and vaffal dread.
There funk the mouldering Gothic reign:
New years came forth, a liberal train,
Call'd by the people's great decree.
That day, my friend, let bleffings crown;
-Fill, to the demigod's renown
From whom thou haft that thou art free.
Then, Drake, (for wherefore should we part
The public and the private weal?)
In vows to her who sways thy heart,
Fair health, glad fortune, will we deal.
Whether Aglaia's blooming cheek,
Or the foft ornaments that speak
So eloquent in Daphne's finile,
Whether the piercing lights that fly
From the dark heaven of Myrto's eye,
Haply thy fancy then beguile.
For fo it is. Thy stubborn breast,
Though touch'd by many a slighter wound,
Hath no full conquest yet confefs'd,
Nor the one fatal charmer found.
While I, a true and loyal fwain,
My fair Olympia's gentle reign
Through all the varying seasons own.
Her genius ftill my bosom warms :
No other maid for me hath charms,
Or I have eyes for her alone.
NCE more I join the Thefpian choir,
And taste the infpiring fount again :
O parent of the Grecian lyre,
Admit me to thy powerful ftrain-
And lo, with ease my step invades
The pathlefs vale and opening fhades,
Till now I fpy her verdant feat:
And now at large I drink the found,
While these her offspring, liftening round,
By turns her melody repeat.
I fee Anacreon smile and fing,
His filver treffes breathe perfume;
His cheek difplays a second spring
Of roses taught by wine to bloom.
Let me the wanton pomp enjoy,
While in smooth dance the light-wing'd hours,
Lead round his lyre its patron powers,
Kind laughter and convivial joy.
Broke from the fetters of his native land,
Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords,
With louder impulfe and a threatening hand
The Lesbian patriot fmites the founding chords:
Ye wretches, ye perfidious train,
Ye curs'd of gods and free-born men,
Ye murderers of the laws,
Though now ye glory in your luft,
Though now ye tread the feeble neck in duft,
Yet Time and righteous Jove will judge your dreadful caufe.
But lo, to Sappho's melting airs
Defcends the radiant queen of love:
She fmiles, and afks what fonder cares
Her fuppliant's plaintive measures move:
Why is my faithful maid diftrefs'd ?
Who, Sappho, wounds thy tender breast?
Say, flies he?-Soon he thall purfue:
Shuns he thy gifts ?-He foon fhall give:
Slights he thy forrows?-He fhall grieve,
And foon to all thy wishes bow.
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