Royal Charmer,

Now to chear you,
Pleafures call;

Britains wait you, &c.

Joys are near you,

Round the Bal,

Sports hafte to treat you,

Honours to greet you,

With Love's true Bleffing GEORGE the Crown of all.

To grace the Court, o'er Beauty to prefide,
(And Beauty's Prize, fair Me, was still thy Pride,
An Angel's Form with a Cæleftial' Mind.

Bleft Britain comes in bright CHARLOTTA joyn'd,
With ev'ry Grace, with ev'ry Vertue crown'd;
Such Gods were feign'd, fuch is your Goddess found.

Know your Goddess, Race of Ocean,
To the Nobleft Fair be kind;

Smooth your Waves, attend her Motion,
Calm, yet fprightly as her Mind. j

Like her Hero let her find

Leading Gales with Tides combine,

Waft her foon, and leave no Notion,

From their chafte Loves a Race of Heroes Springs,
To blefs our Ifle, perhaps the World with Kings:

Hopes

Hopes of vaft Empires o'er each Hemifphere, X
Of Ocean Lords, while Earth they amply Share; !
Why wander then the Winds, when call'd to guide
O'er Subject Seas to Joy the Princely Bride?

The Winds for Reft would court the Fair to ftay;
Love knows no Reft, and fighs at Heav'n's Delay.

Pitying Pow'rs above,

Kind to tender Love,

Bear her Sighs to her Adorer.

Say his Smiles alone

Who her Love has known,

Can to abfent Joy restore her.

See faithful Love and Piety prevail,

The Pow'rs propitious breathe, the friendly Gale;
O'er dancing Wayes Sea-Nymphs the Goddess meet,
With founding Shells attending Tritons meet.
The Dolphins fport, while as on Neptune's Throne,
Embark'd, fhe fees the Seas her Empire own.
With smiling Rays bright Phabus courts in vain,
A brighter Thetis doubled on the Main.

Winds her fair Treffes fpread, and fan her Charms,
Each Lover's Sight now fweetly both alarms;
And now they meet bleft in each others Arms.

ли

Fond and ravish'd, fee him meet her, 1ˆ
Fate the Youth from Beauty tore,

But to make their Joys the fweeter,

And their Flames to burn the more.

73

AN

EPISTLE

TO THE

King of Sweden,

FROM A

Lady of England.

O Thee, Rude Warrior, whom we once admir'd,

And thought thy Actions spoke Thee half infpir'd,

While Juftice held the Ballance of thy Caufe,

And ev'ry Language founded Thy Applaufe:
D

But

But fince Ambition, and Revenge prevails,
Thy Glories languish, and our. Wonder fails;
To Thee, a Woman fends with gen'rous Care,
And warns thy Rashness timely to beware.

Fame now a Tale of fresher Date has told, Beyond thy mad Romantick Feats of Old: Our Malecontents thy Num'rous Squadrons boaft, Defcribe thy Pendants flying on our Coast, And hear the pleasing Cry, Britannia's loft; But we, who know the Genius of our Ifle, At their Report, and thy Invafion fmile.

Are not our DAMES in ev'ry Climate fam'd, Les Belles Angloifes, by ev'ry Nation nam'd? Are not our YOUTH in Foreign Fields admir'd? Alike by Valour and by Love inspir'd? And shall thofe Fair Ones, who the Morning pafs, Confulting that dear Friend to Love, the Glafs, To fet the Front and Fav'rite Patch in Place; To bow, and glance it with becoming Grace, To melt the Hero's Heart and charm his Eyes, Fall to thy Gothick Rage a Sacrifice? No, to thy Terror learn, our British Youth, Are fam'd for Honour, Conftancy, and Truth; Each would as foon confent thy Caufe to aid, As yield the Fair to whom his Vows are paid.