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He hath nothing farther to premise, but that the Reader must not expect to be pleased with every particular poem which is here presented to him. It is impossible to furnish out an entertainment of this nature, where every part shall be relished by every guest: it will be sufficient, if nothing is set before him, but what has been approved by those of the most acknowledged taste.
. ON THE PROSPECT OF PEACE,
A PO E M. - To the LORD PRIVY-SEAL.
By Mr. TICKEL L. .'
-- - -- Sacerdos Fronde fuper MITRAM, et fælici comptus olivá. VIRG.
Contending kings, and fields of death, too long
Have been the subject of the British song. ;
Exhaufted themes! A gentler note I raise,
Well sends our Queen her mitred Bristol forth,
So when great Moses, with Jehovah's wand, Had scatter'd plagues o’er stubborn Pharaoh's land, Now spread an host of locusts round the shore, Now turn’d Nile's fattning streams to putrid gore ; Plenty and gladness mark'd the priest of God, And sudden almonds shot from Aaron's rod.
O thou, from whom these bounteous blessings fow, To whom, as chief, the hopes of peace we owe, (For next to thee, the man whom kings contend To stile companion, and to make their friend, Great STRAFFORD, rich in every courtly grace, With joyful pride accepts the second place) From Britain's isle, and Ifis' sacred spring,'; One hour, oh! listen while the Muses sing. Though ministers of mighty monarchs wait, With beating hearts, to learn their masters' fate, One hour forbear to speak thy Queen's commands, Nor think the world, thy charge, neglected stands ; The blissful prospects, in my verse display'd, May lure the stubborn, the deceiv'd persuade, Evn thou to peace shalt speedier urge the way, And more be hasten'd by this short delay..
The haughty Gaul, in ten campaigns o’erthrown, Now ceas'd to think the western world his own, Oft had he mourn’d his boasting leaders bound, And his proud bulwarks smoaking on the ground; In vain with pow’rs renew'd he fill'd the plain, Made tim'rous vows, and brib'd the faints in vain; As oft his legions did the fight decline, Lurk'd in the trench, and skulk'd behind the line.
Before his eyes the fancy'd javelin gleams ; At feasts he starts, and seems dethron'd in dreams; On glory past reflects with secret pain, On mines exhausted, and on millions Nain. * To Britain's Queen the scepter'd fuppliant bends, To her his crowns and infant race commends, Who grieves her fame with christian blood to buy, Nor asks for glory at a price fo high. · At her decree the war fuspended ftands, And Britain's heroes hold their lifted hands : Their open brows no threat'ning frowns difguife, But gentler passions sparkle in their eyes. The Gauls, who never in their courts could find Such temper'd fire with manly beauty join'd, Doubt if they're those, whom dreadful to the view : In forms fo fierce their fearful fancies drew, At whofe dire names ten thousand widow's pressid Their helpless orphans clinging to the breast. In silent rapture each his foe furveys, They vow firm friendship, and give mutual praise.
Brave minds, howe'er at war, are secret friends, · Their gen’rous difcord with the battle ends ;
In peace they wonder whence diffention rose,