TWICE twenty tedious moons have roll'd away,
Since hope, kind flatterer! tun'd my penfive lay,
Whispering, that you, who rais'd me from defpair,
Meant, by your fmiles, to make life worth my care;
With pitying hand an orphan's tears to skreen
And o'er the motherlefs extend the queen.
'T'will be the prophet guides the poet's strain !
Grief never touch'd a heart like your's in vain :
Heaven gave you power, because you love to blefs;
And pity, when you feel it, is redress.
Two fathers join'd to rob my claim of one!
My mother too thought fit to have no fon!
The fenate next, whofe aid the helpless own,
Forgot my infant wrongs, and mine alone!
Yet parents pitylefs, nor peers unkind,
Nor titles loft, nor woes mysterious join'd,
Strip me of hope-by heaven thus lowly laid,
To find a Pharaoh's daughter in the shade.
You cannot hear unmov'd, when wrongs implore, Your heart is woman, though your mind be more; 20 Kind, like the power who gave you to our prayers, You would not lengthen life to fharpen cares; They, who a barren leave to live bestow, Snatch but from death to facrifice to woe.
Hated by her from whom my life I drew,
Whence fhould I hope, if not from heaven and you?
Nor dare I groan beneath affliction's rod,
My queen my mother, and my father-God.
The pitying Mufes faw me wit pursue ;
A baftard-fon, alas! on that fide too,
Did not your eyes exalt the poet's fire,
And what the Mufe denies, the queen infpire?
While rifing thus your heavenly foul to view,
I learn, how angels think, by copying you.
Great princefs! 'tis decreed-once every year
I march uncall'd your Laureat Volunteer;
Thus fhall your poet his low genius raise,
And charm the world with truths too vaft for praise.
Nor need I dwell on glories all your own,
Since furer means to tempt your finiles are known; 40
Your Poet fhall allot your lord his part,
And paint him in his nobleft throne-your heart.
Is there a greatnefs that adorns Him beft,
A rifing with, that ripens in his breast?
Has He foremeant fome diftant age to bless,
Difarm oppreffion, or expel diftrefs ?
Plans He some scheme to reconcile mankind,
People the feas, and busy every wind?
H 3
Would he by pity the deceiv'd reclaim,
And smile contending factions into shame ?
Would his example lend his laws a weight,
And breathe his own foft morals o'er his state?
The Mufe fhall find it all, fhall make it seen,
And teach the world his praife, to charm his queen.
Such be the annual truths my verse imparts
Nor frown, fair favourite of a people's hearts!
Happy if, plac'd, perchance, beneath your eye,
My Mufe, unpenfion'd, might her pinions try;
Fearless to fail, whilft you indulge her flame,
And bid me proudly boaft your Laureat's name; 60
Renobled thus by wreaths my queen bestows,
and woes.
GREAT princefs, 'tis decreed! once every year,
I march uncall'd, your Laureat Volunteer.” So fung the Mufe; nor fung the Muse in vain : My queen accepts, the year renews the strain.
Ere firft your influence fhone with heavenly aid,
Each thought was terror; for each view was shade.
Fortune to life each flowery path` deny'd ;
No fcience learn'd to bloom, no lay to glide.
Inftead of hallow'd hill, or vocal vale,
Or ftream, fweet-echoing to the tuneful tale ;
Damp dens confin'd, or barren deferts spread,
With spectres haunted, and the Mufes fled;
Ruins in penfive emblem feem to rise,
And all was dark, or wild, to Fancy's eyes.
But hark! a gladdening voice all nature chears! i'§
Difperfe, ye glooms! a day of joy appears?
Hail, happy day!-'Twas on thy glorious morn,
The firft, the fairest of her sex was born!
How swift the change! Cold, wintery forrows fly;
Where-e'er the looks, delight furrounds the eye! 20
Mild fhines the fun, the woodlands warble round,
The vales fweet echo, fweet the rocks refound!
In cordial air soft fragrance floats alongs
Each scene is verdure, and each voice is fong!
Shoot from yon orb divine, ye quickeningrays! 25
Boundless, like her benevolence, ye blaze!
Soft emblems of her bounty, fall ye fhowers!
And sweet afcend, and fair unfold ye flowers!
Ye rofes, lilies, you we earliest claim,
In whitenefs, and in fragrance, match her fame?
'Tis yours to fade, to fame like hers is due
Undying sweets, and bloom for ever new.
Ye bloffoms, that one varied landscape rife,
And fend your fcentful tribute to the skies;
H 4
Diffufive like yon royal branches smile,
Grace the young year, and glad the grateful isle !
Attend, ye Mufes ! mark the feather'd quires!
Those the spring wakes, as you the queen infpires.
O, let her praife for ever fwell your fong!
Sweet let your facred streams the notes prolong,
Clear, and more clear, through all my lays refine;
And there let heaven and her reflected fhine!
As, when chill blights from vernal funs retire,
Chearful the vegetative world aspire,
Put forth unfolding blooms, and waving try
Th' enlivening influence of a milder sky;
So gives her birth (like yon approaching fpring)
The land to flourish, and the Mufe to fing.
'Twas thus, Zenobia, on Palmyra's throne,
In learning, beauty, and in virtue shone;
Beneath her rofe, Longinus, in thy name,
The poet's, critick's, and the patriot's fame!
Is there (fo high be you, great princess, prais'd!)
A woe unpitied, or a worth unrais'd ?
Art learns to foar by your sweet influence taught; 55
In life well cherish'd; nor in death forgot :
In death, as life, the learn'd your goodness tell!
Witnefs the facred bufts of Richmond's cell!
Sages, who in unfading light will fhine;
Who grafp'd at fcience, like your own, divine! 60
The Mufe, who hails with fong this glorious morn,
Now looks through days, through months, through
years unborn;
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