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In blotted stanzas fcraps of odes expire,
For, ftill impatient till the Princefs came,
The foul, tranfpiercing through the fhining frame, "Forms all the graces of the Princely Dame: "Benevolence her converfation guides,
"Smiles on her cheek, and in her eye refides.
"Such harmony upon
her tongue is found, "As foftens English to Italian found:
"Yet in those founds fuch fentiments appear,
As charm the judgement, while they footh the ear.
Religion's chearful flame her bofom warms, "Calms all her hours, and brightens all her charms. Henceforth, ye Fair, at chapel mind your prayers, "Nor catch your lover's eyes with artful airs; "Restrain your looks, kneel more, and whisper less, "Nor moft devoutly criticize on drefs.
"From her form all your characters of life, "The tender mother, and the faithful wife. "Oft' have I feen her little infant-train, "The lovely promife of a future reign;
"Obferv'd with pleasure every dawning grace,
"With conquefts yet to come his bofom glows,
White Albion's cliffs refound from fhore to fhore.
All praife is faint when Carolina's near.
Thus to the nation's joy, but poet's coft,
The Princefs came, and my new plan was loft.
Since all my schemes were baulk'd (my last resort),
I left the Muses, to frequent the Court;
Straight I reply'd, With what a courtly grace
And with their names wild woods and mountains rung.
The Court refines the language of the plain.
You muft, cries one, the Miniftry rehearse,
Still every one I met in this agreed,
One morn upon the Princefs this I writ,
"The pomp of titles eafy faith might shake,
Methinks I fee fome Bard, whofe heavenly rage "Shall rife in fong, and warm a future age;
"Look back through time, and, wrapt in wonder, trace "The glorious feries of the Brunswick race.
"From the firft George thefe godlike kings defcend, "A line which only with the world shall end. "The next a generous Prince renown'd in arms, "And blefs'd, long blefs'd, in Carolina's charms; "From thefe the reft. 'Tis thus, fecure in peace, "We plow the fields, and reap the year's increase: "Now Commerce, wealthy Goddess, rears her head, "And bids. Britannia's fleets their canvass spread; "Unnumber'd fhips the peopled ocean hide, "And wealth returns with each revolving tide." Here paus'd the fullen Mufe; in hafte I drefs'd, And through the croud of needy courtiers prefs'd; Though unfuccefsful, happy whilst I fee Those eyes, that glad a nation, shine on me.
WHILE you, my Lord, bid ftately piles afcend,
Or in your Chiswick bowers enjoy your friend; Where Pope unloads the boughs within his reach, The purple vine, blue plumb, and blushing peach; I journey far. You knew fat Bards might tire, And, mounted, fent me forth your trufty Squire. "Twas on the day when city-dames repair To take their weekly dofe of Hyde-park air; When forth we trot: no carts the road infeft, For ftill on Sundays country horses rest. Thy gardens, Kenfington, we leave unfeen; Through Hammersmith jog on to Turnham-green z That Turnham-green, which dainty pigeons fed, But feeds no more: for Solomon is dead. Three dufty miles reach Brentford's tedious town, For dirty streets and white-legg'd chickens known
* A man once famous for feeding pigeons.