All white they rife, and in their course exprest
A king by kings rever'd, by fubjects bleft!
A queen, where-e'er true greatness spreads in fame; 65
Where learning towers beyond her sex's aim ;
Where pure religion no extreme can touch,

Of faith too little, or of zeal too much;

Where these behold, as on this bless'd of morns,
What love protects them, and what worth adorns; 70
Where'e'er diffufive goodness fimiles, a queen
Still prais'd with rapture, as with wonder feen!
See nations round, of every with poffeft!

Life in each eye, and joy in every breast!
Shall I, on what I lightly touch'd, explain?

Shall I (vain thought!) attempt the finish'd ftrain?

No-let the Poet ftop unequal lays,

And to the just hiftorian yield your praise.

75

THE

VOLUNTEER LAUREA T.

A POE M

ON HER

MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 1734-5.

Ν

NO. IV.

IN youth no parent nurs'd my infant fongs,
'Twas mine to be inspir'd alone by wrongs;
Wrongs, that with life their fierce attack began,
Drank infant tears, and ftill purfue the man.

Life

Life fcarce is life-Dejection all is mine;

The power, that loves in lonely fhades to pine;
Of fading cheek, of unelated views;
Whose weaken'd eyes the rays of hope refuse.
'Tis mine the mean, inhuman pride to find;
Who fhuns th' opprefs'd, to fortune only kind;
Whofe pity's infult, and whofe cold refpect
Is keen as fcorn, ungenerous as neglect.
Void of benevolent, obliging grace,
Ev'n dubious friendship half averts his face.
Thus funk in fickness, thus with woes oppreft,
How fhall the fire awake within my breast ›
How fhall the Mufe her flagging pinions raife?
How tune her voice to Carolina's praife?
From jarring thought no tuneful raptures flow;
Thefe with fair days and gentle seasons glow:
Such give alone fweet Philomel to fing,
And Philomel's the poet of the spring.

But foft, my foul! fee yon celeftial light!
Before whofe lambent luftre breaks the night.
It glads me like the morning clad in dews,
And beams reviving from the vernal Male:
Infpiring joyous peace, 'tis fhe! 'tis the !
A ftranger long to mifery and me.

Her verdant mantle gracefully declines,
And, flower-embroider'd, as it varies, shines.
To form her garland, Zephyr, from his wing,
Throws the first flowers and foilage of the fpring.
Her looks how lovely! health and joy have lent
Bloom to her cheek, and to her brow content.

Behold

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40

Behold, fweet-beaming her ætherial eyes!
Soft as the Pleiades o'er the dewy skies.
She blunts the point of care, alleviates woes,
And pours the balm of comfort and repofe;
Bids the heart yield to Virtue's filent call,
And fhews Ambition's fons mere children all;
Who hunt for toys which please with tinfel shine;
For which they fquabble, and for which they pine.
Oh hear her voice, more mellow thanghe gale,
That breath'd through fhepherd's pipe enchants the valet
Hark! the invites from city finoke and noise,
Vapours impure, and from impurer joys;
From various evils, that, with rage combin'd,
Untune the body, and pollute the mind:

From crouds, to whom no focial faith belongs,
Who tread one circle of deceit and wrongs;
With whom politeness is but civil guile,
And laws oppress, exerted by the vile.

45

50

To this oppos'd, the Muse presents the scene
Where fylvan pleasures ever fmiles ferene;
Pleafures that emulate the bleft above,

Health, innocence, and peace, the Mufe, and Love;
Pleasures that ravifh, while alternate wrought

By friendly converse, and abstracted thought.
Thefe footh my throbbing breaft. No lofs I mourn;
Though both from riches and from grandeur torn. 60
Weep I a cruel mother? No-I've seen,

From heaven, a pitying, a maternal queen.
One gave me life; but would no comfort grant ;
She more than life refum'd by giving want.

Would