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A

DI A LO GUE

BETWEEN

L O N D 0 N,

AND THE

River TH A MES,

ON THE Late QUEEN's passing so much Time at

WINDSOR.

By Mr. A. H.

FEAR the soft Solitudes of Chelsea-Plain,

Whofe Verdant Banks, a constant Spring

maintain,

The geatle TH AMEs has formid an am-
ple Bay,
Where, undisturbid by Winds, his Streams in Whirl-
Pools play.

In

In this sweet Place, the Skies no Terrors wear,
Nor stormy Tempests discompose the Air;
Nor ruffled Billows rowl along the Shoar,
Nor hollow Winds from diftant Cayerns roar;
But all serene and calm is form'd to please,
And Birds of tuneful Notes surround the Trees.
Hither on Zephyr's Wings sweet Scents repair,
And gentle Breezes fan the peaceful Air,

Soft as the Sighs of Love-sick Virgins are,
Here fad with Grief by ANNA's Absence bred,
The fam'd Augusta lean'd her mournful Head,
And with her Looks confess'd her inward Pains,
She to the gliding Waters thus complains :

Ye gentle Streams be kind, one Moment stay,
And on your Surface bear my Sighs away;
Tell the great Mistress of this happy ISLE,
AUGUST A weeps, that once was us’d to smile;
Tell her, she mourns the Rigour of her Fate,
Rob’d of her high-priz’d Gloiy and her State.
What, tho' my lofty Spires are rais'd so high,
And with their gilded Tops support the Sky?
What, tho' my warliké Sons defend my Gates,
And at my Portals untold Plenty waits ?
What, if 'twere all increas'd ten thousand fold,
Tho' all my Marble should be chang’d to Gold ?
Tho' all my Streets with polish'd Gems should shine,
And both the India's Treasures all be mine?

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Tho' Art and Nature stroye to make me fair,

Could I taste Honour, and my QUEEN not there?
But, oh! how fondly I to thee complain,
That know'st, unkindly know'st 'tis all in vain?
Thy partial Streams their artful Pleasures joyn
To raise thy WINDSOR 's State, and ruin mine. ,
WINDSOR made lovely, cruel Flood, by thee,
In ANNA's Favour has out-rival'd me:
But turn, sweet, gentle Current, turn, I

pray,
And bid the Waters take some other Way: ,
Strip the proud Cottage of its borrow'd Pride,
And on my Shoars alone bestow thy Tide;
Then shäll my Honours be redeem'd again,
And to thy self the Glory shall remain,
T'ave giv'n AUGUST.A back her QUEEN again.
Grave Thamefis at this, thrice thook his Head,

.
And rising upwards from his Ouzy Bed,
Whilst his deep Streams in awful Stilness ran,
He to the griev'd AUGUST A thus began,
Mourn not, great QUEEN of Cities, learn Content,
Nor thus ungratefully thy Loss relent;
Was it that I who fix'd thy mighty Fate,
And rais'd thy Nothing to be more than great ?
How many other Towns are likewise mine,
Yet which of them.can bgast a Trade like thinę?
What Riches, Glory, Pleasure, State, and Pride,
Thou ow'ft the Favours of my daily Tide?

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Why

Why would'st thou then make ev'ry Bliss thy own,
Must mighty AN NA live for thee alone;
The Sun displays his Beams from Place to Place,
And "Shines on all before he ends his Race:
So Britain's brighter QUEEN delights to move,
And bless her SU BJECTS with delighted Love.
Subjects to her should study how to please,
And tho' they lose their own, consult her Ease.
Go then, retire, no more my Anger move,
But in your swift Obedience thew her LOVE.
She said. And gliding from her Prefence went,
And fad AUGUSTA Atrove, but could not be content..

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L L ye Beaux, Virtuoso's, rich Heirs, and

Musicians,
Away, and in Troops to the J U BILE E

jog;
Leave Discord and Death to the College Physicians,

Let the Lufty Whore on, and the Impotent Flog;
Already ROME opens her Arms to receive ye,
And freely Transgressions her LORD will forgive ye.

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