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No time, no change, no future flame, shall move
No banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove,
In me behold the potent Edgar's heir, Illustrious earl ; him terrible in war Let Loyre confess, for she has felt his sword, And trembling fled before the British lord. Him great in peace and wealth fair Deva knows, For she amidst his spacious meadows flows, Inclines her urn upon his fatten'd lands, And sees his numerous herds imprint her sands.
And thou, my fair, my dove, shalt raise thy thought To greatness next to empire: shall be brought With solemn pomp to my paternal seat, Where peace and plenty on thy word shall wait: Music and song shall wake the marriage-day, And while the priests accuse the bride's delay, Myrtles and roses shall obstruct her way.
Friendship shall still thy evening feasts adorn, And blooining Peace shall ever bless thy morn: Succeeding years thy happy race shall run, And Age unheeded by delight come on, While yet superior love shall mock his power; And when old Time sball turn the fated hour,
Which only can our well-tied knot unfold,
Hence, then, for ever, from my Emma's breast (That heaven of softness, and that seat of rest) Ye doubts and fears, and all that know to move Tormenting grief, and all that trouble love; Scatter'd by winds recede, and wild in forests rove.
Emma. O day! the fairest sure that ever rose !
Hence let the tides of plenty ebb and flow,
Friendship’s great laws, and love's superior powers,
Yet while with close delight and inward pride
WHILE thus the constant pair alternate said, Joyful above them and around them play'd Angels and sportive Loves, a numerous crowd: Smiling they clapp'd their wings, and low they They tumbled all their little quivers o'er, [bow'd. To choose propitious shafts a precious store, That when their god should take his future darts, To strike (however rarely) constant hearts, His happy skill might proper arms employ, All tippd with pleasure, and all wing’d with joy : And those, they vow'd, whose lives should imitate These lovers' constancy, should share their fate.
The queen of beauty stopp'd her bridled doves, Approv'd the little labour of the Loves; Was proud and pleas'd the mutual vow to hear, And to the triumph call'd the god of war : Soon as she calls, the god is always near.
“Now Mars,' she said, 'Let Fame exalt her voice, Nor let thy conquests only be her choice; But when she sings great Edward from the field Return'd, the hostile spear and captive shield In Concord's temple hung, and Gallia taught to
yield. And when, as prudent Saturn shall complete The years design'd to perfect Britain's state, The swift-wing'd power shall take her trump again, To sing her favourite Anna's wondrous reign; To recollect unwearied Marlborough's toils, Old Rufus' hall unequal to his spoils ; The British soldier from his high command Glorious, and Gaul thrice vanquish'd by his hand : Let her at least perform what I desire ; With second breath the vocal brass inspire; And tell the Nations in no vulgar strain, What wars I manage, and what wreaths I gain. And when thy tumults and thy fights are passid ; And when thy laurels at my feet are cast; Faithful may'st thou, like British Henry prove; And Emma-like let me return thy love.
• Renown'd for truth, let all thy sons appear; And constant Beauty shall reward their care.'
Mars smild, and bow'd : the Cyprian deity Turn’d to the glorious ruler of the sky; . And thou,' she smiling said, ' great God of days And verse, behold my deed, and sing my praise, As on the British earth, my favourite isle, Thy gentle rays and kindest influence smile, Through all her laughing fields and verdant groves, Proclaim with joy these memorable loves. From every annual course let one great day, To celebrated sports and floral play
Be set aside ; and in the softest lays
AN EPISTLE TO MR. CUTHBERT JACKSON.
This motley piece to you I send,
The want of method pray excuse,
The child is genuine, you may trace
School-helps I want, to climb on high,
* Gildon published a Complete Art of Poetry. VOL. VI.