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By the late MATTHEW PRIO 
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THE 


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TURTLE 


AND THE 


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Ls Af this. aa : EE” 


The Second EDiT1iON. 


LONDON: 


Printed for J. ROBERT'S, near the Oxford-Arms, in 
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TURTLE 


AND THE 


SPARROW: 


A Widow Turtle penſive far, 


57 | Where Zagh and Med mix der Shade 


And wept her murder d Lover's Fate: 


The Sparrow chanc'd that Way to walk; 


(A Bird that loves to chirp and talk) 


Beſure he did the Turtle greet, 
She anſwer d him as ſhe thought meet: . 
Sparrows and Turtles by the by, 

Can think as well as you or I : 

Bur how did they their Thoughts expreſs, 
The Margin ſhows by T. and S. 


. My 


121 


TI. My Hopes are loſt, my Joys are fled, 
Alas! I weep Columbo dead: 
Come, all ye winged Lovers, come, 
Drap Puig and Daiſies on his Tomb : 
Sing Philonel-his Funeral Verſe, 
Ve pious Ridlieaſts deck his Herle-: 
2 
bes Death requires your Notes: 
For Him, my Friends, for Him I moan, a 
My dear Columbo, dead and gone. 
Stretch d on the Bier Columbo lies, 
Pale are his Checks, and clos d his Eyes; 
Thoſe Checks, where Beauty ſmiling lay; 
Thoſe Eyes where Love was us d to play: 
Ah cruel Fate, alas l how foon 
Ne. eee flown ! 
nr ll Woods; 
The Sound let Echos Voice reſtore, 
And ſay, Columbo is no more. 


Ye Floods, ye Woods, ye Echos, moan | 
Muy dear Columbo, dead and gone. 


The Dryads all forſook the Wood, 


an. 


1 The tripping Fawns and Fairies came, 
All conſcious of our mutual Flame 


I 8 5 To ſigh for him, with me to moan, 

| | My dear Columbo, dead and gone. 
Venus diſdain d not to appear 

To lend my Grief a Friendly Ear; 


4 
4 


I aw thy Mate with fad Regret, 


| Ah, dear Columbo, how he fell, 


And juſt thy Tears, alas, alas! 


(3] 

But what avails her Kindneſs now 2 

She ne'er ſhall hear my Second Vom: 
The Loves that round their Mother flew, 
Did in her Face her Sorrows view. 
Their drooping Wings they penfive hung, 


Their Arrows broke, their Bows 3 l 


They heard attentive what I ſaid, 
And wept with me, Columbo dead : © 
For Him I figh, for Him I mean,” 
My dear Columbo, 22 


Tis ours to weep, great Venus ſaid, 
"Tis 70% Es alone to be obey d: 
Nor Birds, nor Goddeſſes can move 
The juſt Beheſts of Fatal 7 O VE; 


And curs d the Fowler's cruel Net : 


Whom Turturella lov'd fo well ! 
I aw him bleeding on the Ground, 
The Sight tore up my ancient Wound; 
And whilſt you wept, alas, I cxy'd, 
Columbo and Adonis dy d. : 


Weep all ye Sereams, ve tide, 


I mourn Columbo, dead and gone; 


Still let my tender Grief complain, 
Nor Day, nor Night that Grief reſtrain, - 
| ford, and Pie 
Columbo and Adonis dy d. 
Poor Turturella, hard thy Caſe, 


Fo. — is 6. 4-444 Rees. rr 


| 


| They ſeem reſold to. wed again. 


When Widdowers would this Truth ** 5 
They never taſted real Love. 


| His Effons all-depend.on Life 


141 


T: | And haſt thou low d, and canſt thou hear 


With pitcous Heart a Lover's Care ? 
Come then, with Me thy Sorrows joyn, 
And caſe my Woes by telling thine : 
For thou, poor Bird, perhaps may'ſt moan 
Some Paſcerella dead and done. 


Dame Turtle, this runs ſoft in Rhime, 


But neither ſuits the Place nor Time; 


That Fowler's Hand, whole cruel Care 


For dear Columbo ſet the Snare, 
| The Snare again for thee may ſer ; 


Two Birds may periſh in one Net. 
Thou ſhould't avoid this cruel Field, 
And Sorrow ſhou'd to Prudence yield. 


"Tis adto dye. T. It may be ſo; 


Tis ſadder yet to live in Woe. 
When Widows uſe this canting Srrain, 


Love is ſoſt Joy and gentle Strife, 


When he has thrown two Golden Darts, 
Of his black Shafts let Death ſend One 
Alas! The pleaſing Game is done, 


- Ill is the poor Survivor ſped, 
A Corps feels mighey cold in Bed. 


Venus ſaid right, nor Tears can move, 


Nor Plaints revoke the Will of 70% E. 


[5] 
All muſt obey the general Dom 
Down from Alis to Tone Thidb. 
Grim Plato will not be wichſddod . 
By Force or Craft ; tall Me; | _ 
As well as E Jabs is dad | 

(You fre tae en # day dead): 


Hell find you en ene Cer you: —_ 


When to a Graſhopjer" contrateds . 
Death fack them in choſe Shapes agal; 
As once. he, ben chey were Mews" 
Fleſh is bur Grak, Gras rams to Hayy | 
And Hay to Dung, and Dung to Clay, 
Thus Heads cxtreamly nie diſcover, | 


Bur ofe by too refin'd a Touch 


What e er Pythagoras nay , 


(For each you know wilt have his Way) | 


With great Submifſios I prociounce; | 


To Bird and Mn Tacluding Winds. 
From the Spread Egle to the ren; 
Alas ! no Mortal Fowl! knows When 3 
All char wear Feathers fiſt or laſh, 


I . :bſeond od in . "= | 
4 OS - 4 : * ? * 
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That re. may djs fas en Times , 


That Ran dye 40 Sade this ence : 
But once is ſure, aud Death is c 


Wich Fates len Ta, none can dodge, LN" 


To pore Thing plthy yo mo hk 


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181 
Muſt he beneath the Oyreſe Shade, 
Where Strale "Nightingd was lait. 
Thoſe Fowl who ſeem alive roifit, . . 
Aﬀembl'd by Dan Gagers 'Wit, 
In Proſe have digs Tier benched Years T5 
D = 
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Thou fre 5 O's Bow ub mis ni 
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Of Tear bean back ban again 
In rocher the collected Sound 
2 Of Groans, when once receiv'd, is drown'd, 
Tis therefore vain one Hour to grieve wo 
What Time i {elf can ne er retrieve 
By Nature ſoſt, I know, 2 Dove 
Can never livewwichout her Love; 
Then quiz this Flame, and light anocher ; A 
Dame, I adyiſe von like a Brecher. 


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In other Nuprials to-rejoyce 'S 

8. — — | 
Let me indulge my pleaſing W. * ** * 
Thus ſighing,  cocing, (caſe my Prin, 45; 
But never wih nor love again: ee "i fl 
Diſtreſs for ever les me m 9:7: Alen. 


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— —— & — 11. 96) 
1 tell thee, Dame,. che Ferber * z ©2 
I met a Prot. and % TR 
: Who worked thee in cheir mink * 1 
T. | Whar Cer he Jig? of Plane f 45, . 2 f 
2 my Joys are ; "= 
And 1 for ever muſt deplote = ; 
Columbo dead and gone. . 1 


For Shame ſorfake this ianen 
We'll talk an Hour, and walk a Mile, , _ 2 
Doe k wich Senſe n 90s, 


To fir thus moping on a Tree 2: , — 
To throw away a Widow's Life, : 1987 


When you again may be a Wife. 


Come on, Til cell you my Athours ; 
Who knows but they may influence Lon? 


Example draws where Precept fails, 
And Sermons are leſs read than Tales. 


Sparrow, I rake rhee for my Friend; 
As fuch wil: hear thee, I deſcend ; 


FI 


* 


A hanſome, ſenſeleſs, awkward Ft 
Who wou'd not yield; and cb d not rule: * 


1 
= 


Count me the” Leaves on .yondet 


( 9] 
Appears a Goddeſs till enjoy d, 
But Birds, and Men, and Gods are cloy d. 
Was Hercules one Woman's Man: 
Or Jove for ever Leda's 'Swan ? 
Ah! Madam, ceaſe to be miſtaken, 
Few marry d Fowl peck Dunmow Bacon. 
Variety alone gives Joy, 
The ſweeteſt Meats the ſooneſt cloy : | 
What Sparrow-Dame, what Dove alive, 
Tho Vins ſhou'd the Chariot drive, 
But wou d accuſe the Harneſs- Weight, 
If always coupled to one Mate, 
And often wiſh the Fetter broke? 
Tis Freedom but to change the Yoke: - 


: Impious to wiſh to wed ain, 


She dy'd on Child-Bed on the Neſt. 

Well, reſt her Bones, quoth I, hrs gave 

But muſt I therefore lye alone > * 

What, am I to her Memory yd? 

Muſt I not live, becauſe ſhe dyd? 

And thus 1 Logicaly faid, 

( Tis good to have a reaſoning Head) 

Is this my Wife 2 Probatur, not; 

For Death diſſolv d the Marriage-Knoe i 

She was, Concedo, during Life ; 

But, is a Piece of Clay a Wife ?- 
"_ 


- 
* 
_ * 
. 
* 
* ? 


. : lol 
Again, if no _— 27 fer, 
And he who general Tears can ſhed 
For Folks that happen to be dead, 
May e en with equal Juſtice mourn 
For thoſe who never yet were born: 
4 Thoſe Points indeed you quaintly prove; 
Bur Logick is no Friend to Love. 


Some little Corn fot them I gather d, 
And ſent them to my Spouſe's Mother, 
So left that Brood to get another. 
And as Old Harry whilome faid, 
Reflecting on Ame Bullen dead, 
Cocksbones, 1 now again do ſtand | 
The jollieſt Batchelor i'th' Land: 


| Ah me ! my Joys, my Hopes are fled z 
My firſt, my * Love is dead: 

aun Lok. S. a me go on · 5 

yet my Fortune was but narrow, 

I wood my Couſen Philly Sparrow, 

Oth Elder Houſe of Chirping-End, 

Whence the younger Branch deſcend ; 

Well ſeated in a Field of Peaſe 

She liv'd, extreamly at her Eaſe : 

But when the Honey-Moon was paſt, 

The following Nights were ſoon 0 ercaſt, 

She kept her own, could plead the Law, 

| And quarrel for a Barly-Siraw ; 


My Children then were juſt pen-feather'd | 


| Both, 


( #2 ] 


Boch, you may judge became che leſs. kind, 


As more we knew each others Mind: 
She ſoon grew ſullen, I hard-heancd, 
To LONDON, bleſſed Town, I wene; 
She Boarded at 2a Faim in Kent : 
A Mme from the Country fled, | 
And kindly told me ſhe was dead: 
I prun'd my Feathers, cock d my Tail; 
And fer my Heart again to Sale. 


My Fourth, 2 meer Cocker, or ſucli 
I thought her, nor avails it much 
If true or falſe, our Troubles ſpring 
More from the Fancy than the Thing; 
Two ſtaring Horns, I often ſaid, 

But ill become 2 Sher s Head 
But then, to ſet that Balance even, 
Your Cuckold-Sparrow goes to Heaven. 

The Thing you fear, ſuppoſe it done; 
If you enquire you make it known. 
' Whilſt ar the Root your Horns are ſore, 
The more you ſcratch, they ach the mort, 
Bur turn the Tables and reflect, 
All may not be that you ſuſpect: 
By the Mind's Eye, the Horns we mean 
Are only in Ideas ſeen, 

Tis from the Inſide of the Head 
Their Branches ſhoot, their Antlers iptead; 
Fruitful Suſpicions often bear them, 


You feel em from the Time you fear em. 


[22] 
rn ane Hints woes 
Offends the Ear of Vulgar Bird; 
But thoſe of finer Taſte tinge nad | 
There's Nothing int beſide the Sound. 
Pereſerment always waits on Horns, 
And Houſhold Peace the Gift adorns : 
This Way or that let Factions tend, I} 
The Spark is ſtil} the Cuckold's Friend; 
This Way or that let Madam roam, 
Well pleas d and quiet ſhe comes home. 
Now weigh the Pleaſure with the Pain, 
The Plus and Minus, Loſs and Gain, 
And what Lafontaine laughing ſays, 
8 in ſuch a Caſe ; 
Who flights the Evil finds ic leaſt 
And who does Nothing does the beſt. 
I never ſtrove to rule the Roaſt, 

She ne er refusd to pledge my Toaſt: 
SO rg 
We neicher much careſs'd nor ſtrove, 


But good Diſſembling paſs'd for Love. 


What cer of Light our Eye may know, 
'Tis only Light it ſelf can ſhow : | 

What e er of Love our Heart can feel, 

Tis mutual Love alone can tell. 


My pretty, amorous, fooliſh Bird, 

A Moment's Patience, in one Word, 
The Three kind Siſters broke the Chain, 
She dy'd, I mourn'd, and woo'd again. 


Let me with juſter Grief deplore 
My dear Columbo, now no more; 


bs] 


Let me with conftane Tears bewail : 


Your Socrow does ba pal my” Tale: 
My Fifth ſhe prov'd 2 jealous Wife, 
| Lord ſhield is all from fark a ſs ! 
Dr 
"Twas this To-Day, To-morrow that: 
— 2 — 

I kept a Miſs ; an honeſt l. 
Told it 2 Sue, who told a Stear, 
Who told it thoſe, who cold- ic Ter: 
One Day a Leinet and 'a Lark 
fied mer rsd 
The next a Woodcock and an Owl ; 
Quick-lighted, grave, and ſober Fowl, 
Vi ORE „ 
I kifd a Hen behind the Hedge. 
Well, Madam Title, to be brief, 
(Repeating bur renews our Grief) Z 
As once ſhe warch'd me, SP 
Poor Soul | her Footing chanc'd to fail, 
And down ſhe fell, and broke her Hip, 
The Feaver came, and then the Pip- 
Death did the only cure apply ; 
She was at quiet, fo was L 


His Sorrows, as his Joys, are true. 


My deareſt Dove, one wiſe Man ſays, : 
Alluding to our preſene Caſe, 


Then what avails ſuperfluous Sorrow ? 
Another full as wiſe as he on 
Adds that a marryd Man may ſee 


* 
Dit 


- : 
* * — 
« 


'Z 


. 


Cou'd Love unmov'd theſe Changes view? 


We re here To-day, and gone To-morrow : | 


” [ha] 
Two tappy' Hoats ;/-aid whit aro whey -t- - 
The Firſt. and I Jes you. by ; 
"Tis mme, when | fy Fi 
„ bs fa, 
Be they of Holland or 'of Lead, 21 


W Me... 
And ſliding down che Vale of Yeam, _ 
I hop'd to fix my fung Reſt, 
And took a Widow in my Neſt. 
Ah Turtle! enn 
Sober, yet geile; wiſe, yer free; 
But ſhe was peeviſh, ndiſy, bold, I» 
A Wich engtaſed on a'Scold:: . 
Jove in Pandura's Box (confin'd. » 
A Hundred IIs © ver Mankind ; 
To vex one Bi in her . 
And 6% as Tims v 5 
3 
of: 


1001 


And Native Tempeſt arm d ber Eye, . 
Black Clouds around her Forehead hung, 
Apd Thunder rattl'd on her Tongue. 
We, Young or Old, or Cock or Hen, 
All livd in Sohs Den; 

Il fard her Friends, her Husband worſt. 
Bur 70 7E amidft his Anger ſpares, 
Remarks our Faults, but hears our Pray 18 
In ſhort, ſhe dy d, Why then the's dead 
891 44 „„ | 


Wou'd 


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One may have better Luck at laſt. 


„ BI IP e ee et ee WHY eee 1 


PRA. * ˙ * 1 
N = SAS 4,” 2 YE . 


From Bottles on a Suburh- Wall. 


[ 15 ] 


Wou'd Heaven this Mourning Year was paſt, 


Matters at worſt are ſure tro mend, 
The DEVIL Wife was but 2 Fiend. 


Thy Tale has raisd a Titles Spleen, 


Uxorious Inmate, Bird obſcene, 


Darft thou defile theſe ſacred Groves, 
Theſe filent Sears of faichſul Loves? 
Begone, with flagging Wings ſet down 

On ſome old Pent-bouſe near the Town; 
In Brewers-Stables peck thy Grain, 
Then waſh it down with puddl'd Rain: 
And hear thy dirty Off-ſpring Squawl — 


Where thou haſt been return again, 


Vile Bird, thou haſt convers'd with Men; 


| Notions like theſe from Men are giv'n, 
"Thoſe vileſt Creatures under Heav'n : 


To Cities and to Counts repair, 
Flatt'ry and Falſhood flouriſh there: 
There all thy wretched Arts employ, 
Where Riches triumph over Joy, 
Where Paſſions does with Int reſt barter, 
And Hymen holds by Mammon's Charter; 
Where Truth by Point of Law is parry d, 
And Knaves and Prudes are Six Times marry d. 


#4 4k 


ERRAT4 Page 2. Line 
for done r. gone. p. 8. 


pero 
30, for a Wie r. my . 


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The SzconDd EDITIOR. 


naler Row. Myoccxl. 


LONDON: 
for T. Coorz, at the Globe in Pater- 


—— 


/ Milos 
They are Not. 
Semper ego Auditor tantum ? 


— —-—ꝛ̃ 
« 0 B —̃ — * n 
—ͤ—ä—6—̃— ͤ — — — ͥũꝗ 2 


— —— — — — en 


* 


4 


They are Not. 


Ir all the Torment, Cares and Plagues that wait | 
SS On the laborious of State ; | 
of all the various Croſſes that fill teaze = = 
The Man, who toils to give a Nation Eaſe ; | 
No Curſe too partial Fate has ſent, 
Than the falſe Crics of envious Diſcontent.----- 
Tho ftill aſſiduous for his Country's Good, 
He flies ev n common Joys, .. 
to his longing Eyes, 


Tho Sleep's a 
Which anxious Fears and reſtleſs Thought fupplics ; 
throng his thorny Way, 


Tho' thouſand 
rolling Waves that croud the Sea ; 


K ͤ — ᷣ— — ð 22 2 — ̃ —— 


Thick as the 

And tho thro all he ſteers his ſteady Courſe, 

| Baffles th impetuous Torrent's haha? orce, 

Riſques the wild Rout, unaided, and alone, 

And for each Peaſant's Safety ſtakes his own. 

Still, ſtill, hard Lot! he hourly feels the Bite 

Of ranc'rous Malice, Calumny and Spite: 
Th ungrateful Worm, preſerv'd by painful Art, 

| Attempts to ſting its folt'ring Patron's Heart; 

| And giddy Parties bid their Fury riſe, 

— nr 


Whence, gracious Heav'n, has this vile Monſter Birth, | 
That thus infeſts th ungrateful Sons of Earth | | 
av, 


(4) 


Say, from what Vice this cauſeleſs —_——— ſprings, 


certain Lot of Minifters and Kings? 
From Spite ; proud Spite, that ſquints upon the Throne, 
Nor brooks a Pow'r ſuperior to its own : 
Parent of Diſcord, Tumult, Feud and Strife, 

Foe to all Honour, Bane of focial Life: 

Reſtleſs, Ambitious, Infolent, and Vain, 

The Wretches Glory, but the Great's Diſdain. 

Or from th' i t Bubble, Self-conceit ; 

That Scale that gives each Coxcomb's Actions Weight; 
That flatt ring Picture that deludes vain Eyes; 

That faithleſs Mirrour, where the Fool ſeems wiſe. 


Full fraught with this, poor Lullus cries, © Come. down, 
« Thou helplefs, ign rant 2 to the Crown: 

cc Ts it for thee, bh blund'ring Lump of Pride, 

« A Nation's various Policies to rs ? 
Quit, quit the Reins. - - -From my more ſteady Hand, 
„ Soon ſhalt thou learn to fave, and pleaſe the Land ; 
«© Soon ſhalt thou ſee Succeſs my Labours crown, 
« And thy repeated Errors conſcious own. 


O Mortals, blind to Fate! - - too often bent 
To covet Evils, and forſake Content: | 
Fed with vain Hopes, how many purchaſe Woe! 
How few, alas! their real Int reſt know. 
Shou'dft thou, vain Lullus, all thy Withes fate, 
And ſeize with giddy Hands the Reins of State; 
When Factions dire, with all their horrid Train, 
Prey on thy Eaſe, and rack thy tortur'd Brain; 
When all the dang'rous Sands and Shelves appear, 
 Thro' which with cautious Conduct thou muff fteer : 
How will thy Soul, with Terrour and Affright, 
aer the Sight! 
Then, then, too late, thou'lt curſe, in wild Deſpair, 
Th' ambitious T 


Stern Turnus thus, when wretched Palla: dy d, 


houghts that made thee graſp at Care, 
And barter ev'ry ſweet and happy Hour, 

Tore the gay Trophy from his bleeding Side, 8 
Wich vaunting Wrath, and unrelenting Pride. 
1 Auk ag gar, 


For the fure Pain and Miſery of Pow r. 
And claim'd Atonement for his dear Friend's Blood, 


He 


— —— . —-—-4.! ͥ̃́— Ons ̃ —„[ — oo * = 


That France and Spain 


(5) 


He curs'd the Hour Evander's Son was lain, 


And wiſh'd the glitt"ring Spoil untouch'd had been, 
Or that th' unhappy Palla ly d again. | 


Are theſe Things fo? --- ill-manner'd N cries ; ? 


And M----s, Yes, brag are, replies, 
While ſcurril Taunt both Truth and Senſe ſupplies. « 


Are not our Fleets already on the Main, 
The diſtant Terrour of inſulting Spain ? 
Is there no Time, no no Care 

Requir'd to raiſe thoſe glorious Bulks of War ? 
Is it worth nothing to have fuch a Guard ? 

Or is it nothing to be thus prepar'd ? 
Can we direct what Winds our Sails ſball fl? 
Can we, if Heav'n's againſt us, Heer at Mill? 

Or when, with fav ring Gales, we ve made our Way 
From fam d St. Helen's sto as fam d Torbay ; 


Ought we, preſumptuous Thought! but once 


If Fate commands our Veſſels back again? 


But have our Foes unhurt triumphant rode ? 
And has no Check their forward Courage aw'd ? 
Have we, quite loft to Glory, ſoundly ſlept? 
Have all our Pow rs @ drow/y Sabbath kept? 
Have they all {lighted Empire and Renown, 


Bemus d at Home, or ſunk in foreign Down © 


Why theſe Rejoicings ? --- Why „ 
Whoſe Undulation ſwells all Exgland round? 
Why to the brazen Trump of ſpreading Fame, 


Does ev ry Briton eccho Yernon's Name ? 


Has Porto Bello, and has Chagre fell, 
And yet, ungrateful Men] Da wes? 
Or dare you baſely, after this, cry on, 
« So many Millions ſpent, yet * done ? 


Is Britain ſunk to ſuch a low 
an# Bait car ber Sos # 

Ts ſbe, as Fame reports ber, fall n ſo low ; 

She, who was once ſo great and glorious? - - - No. 
Already to its Coſt proud Spain has prov'd, 
She's ſole ungugſtian d Monarch of the Flood ; 
Already felt her fierce, all-conqu'ring Fire, 
And learnt to tremble at her vengeful Ire. 

B 


(6) 


And France, prefumptuous France, too ſoon ſhall know, 
What Britons, 


y mod to Wrath, can do; 
While the wh judging Univerſe ſhall ſee, 
Our Hands and Hearts are reſolute and free. 


. Curſe on = Man, whoſe poiſon'd Soul would blaſt. 
Who ſaark at all Things is's wo wank to mend, 
And rallies Schemes he cannot end : 
Who fill'd with Notions of he knows not what, 
Deems it his Duty to revile the Great. 

Like the baſe Hound, who, full of native Spite, 
| Barks at the filver Moon's refulgent Light, 
"Cauſe he's ſo vilely mean, the ſo divinely bright. 


| When, fay who can, hes Views been inqpaie'd ? 
When has it n Regard? 
Who e er to ſully real Merit ſtrove? 
Or rob a brave Man of his Country's Love ? 
Vernon has nobly well his Duty done, 
And Britain owns him for a Worthy Son. 
"T were baſe and mean, with little Arts, to ſoil 
The juſt Reward of his fo glorious Toll : Ds _ 
And twere as baſe and wretched, not to raiſe e 
The grateful Voice, and join the gen ral Praiſe. 
Yet Chagre's riſing Tow'rs might ftill have ſtood, 

And Porto Bello menac'd ftill the Flood; 
Had not the Prudence, whoſe inceſſant Care | 
Protects us ſtill alike in Peace or War; „ 
Full of the Spirit of an injur d Land, | 
Thus giv'n th' important politick Command: 

« Go forth, my Son, and Maſter of the Main, 
<« Write their proud Infults in the Blood of Spain; 
ce Level their Pride, and bid the Wretches feel 
« 'Th' extremeſt Wrath of thy avenging Steel; 
64 Till ſcatter d Tow rs in ſmoking Ruins lie, 
« And daſtard Cries invade the diſtant Sky. 
« With fatal Terrours arm'd, go forth, my Son: 
« This-- - be this Juſtice to thy Country done.” 
Of all theſe Bleſſings, in our loud Applauſe ? 
Or ought not ev'ry Britiſb Soul to fay, 
Hail ! to the glorious Author of To-day. - - - 


Ve hungry 

Will nothing 
Will your uneaſy Spite for ever rage 

See WaLror E brighter from your Venom riſe, 2 
See him diſdain your unavailing Lies, : 


And all your empty es deſpiſe. 

In conſcious Juſtice cloath'd, your Arts he views, 
Yet calmly great his candid Courſe purſucs 
All Rancour, Party, Pique, expung'd bis M ind; 
Regardleſs of himſelf —.— wy ſerve Mankind. 


Go on, brave Man, and, in thy noble Heart, | 

an let thy Country chains the daver hes: | 

Still, beſt of Patriots, kindly guard her Cauſe, 

And ſhield her Rights, her Liberties, her Laws: 

So mongſt the Nobleſt ſhalt thou foremoſt ſhine, 

And ev'ry honeſt Britons Praiſe be thine. 

And when the fatal Day at length ſhall come, 
When doe aud me HT Woe ; 

When thy groſs Part ſhall fink to mould ring Clay, 

And thy great Soul impatient wing its Way. 

(For even Cato felt the leaden Weight, 

And Brutus crouch'd to unrelenting Fate: 

Nor can the moſt confummate Virtue fave, 


1 i 7 
ve, 


In ev'ry grateful 

And thy ſure Fame to t | Years furvive; 

EE: While this juſt Tribute en dy Eered Tomb, 
Shall fire the Souls of Ages yet to come, 

«© That great Man's Reliques fall this little Urn 

« Who late made England bleſt, now makes it mourn. 

« Ah! why to grieve or bleſs us, gracious Heav'n ! 

e Was he at all, or why not longer gion! 


To Royal GzorGs let er ry Briton ſing, 


Our moſt indulgent Parent, Friend and King. 
8 ay Foo + MN 


His Care --- to make us Happy, Good and Great ; 
His ſole Ambition --- in our Hearts to reign; 
His Pride --- to eaſe our Cares, and ſooth our Pain; 
His Scorn --- each giddy, carping, factious Knave, 
Each creeping Tool, and ev'ry Venal Slave. 


And 


68) 
Find will not England with ber King unite, 
To vindicate the Nation's injur d Right ? 
Vill fbe not wait till bis Defigns are known, 
At once advance his Glory, and ber own? 
| Yes: --- in her Sov'reign's Care ſhe'll firmly truſt; 
She 'as prov'd him Gen'rous, Brave, Sincere and Juſt: 
Already his victorious Arm is 
His endleſs Glory lives in ev'ry Zone; 
And Flandrian Plains, yet hot with Blood, can tell, 
Beneath his conqu'ring Sword what Thouſands fell. 
Protected thus, with ſuch a Guardian Force, 
And certain Vengeance ſhall on Spain be pour'd, 
Untill Sevenfold is for ber Wrongs reflor d. 


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