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with every particular poem which is here prefented to him. It is impoffible to furnish out an entertainment of this nature, where every part shall be relished by every guest: it will be sufficient if nothing is fet before him but what has been approved by thofe of the most acknowledged tafte.

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POE M,

To His EXCELLENCY

The LORD PRIVY-SEAL.

ON THE

PROSPECT of PEACE.

[ By Mr. TICKELL. ]

Sacerdos

Fronde fuper MITRAM, & falici comptus oliva. VIRO.

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The LORD PRIVY-SEAL.

Ontending kings, and fields of death, too long Have been the subject of the British song. Who hath not read of fam'd Ramilia's plain, Bavaria's fall, and Danube choak'd with flain? Exhaufted themes! A gentler note I raise, And fing returning Peace in fofter lays. Their fury quell'd, and martial rage allay'd, I wait our heroes in the fylvan shade :

Difbanding hosts are imag'd to my mind,

And warring pow'rs in friendly leagues combin'd; While ease and pleasure make the nations smile, And heav'n and ANNA blefs Britannia's ifle.

Well fends our Queen her mitred BRISTOL forth, For early counfels fam'd, and long-try'd worth, Who, thirty rolling years, had oft with-held The Suede and Saxon from the dufty field; Compleatly form'd, to heal the Chriftian wounds, To name the kings, and give each kingdom bounds, The face of ravag'd nature to repair,

By leagues to foften earth, and heav'n by pray'r; To gain by love, where rage and slaughter fail, And make the crofier o'er the fword prevail.

So when great Mofes, with JEHOVAH's wand,
Had scatter'd plagues o'er stubborn Pharaoh's land,
Now spread an host of locufts round the shore,
Now turn'd Nile's fatt'ning ftreams to putrid gore;
Plenty and gladness mark'd the priest of God,
And fudden almonds shot from Aaron's rod.

O thou, from whom these bounteous bleffings flow,
To whom, as chief, the hopes of peace we owe,
(For next to thee, the man whom kings contend
To ftile companion, and to make their friend,
Great Strafford, rich in every courtly grace,
With joyful pride accepts the fecond place.)
From Briton's ifle, and Ifis' facred fpring
One hour, oh! liften while the muses fing.
Tho' minifters of mighty monarchs wait,

With beating hearts, to learn their mafter's fate,
One hour forbear to speak thy Queen's commands,
Nor think the world, thy charge, neglected ftands;
The blissful prospects, in my verse display'd,
May lure the ftubborn, the deceiv'd perfuade,
Ev'n thou to peace shalt speedier urge the
And more be haften'd by this short delay.

way,

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