TO DAPHNE *.

ON VALENTINE'S DAY.

BY WILLIAM DUNCOMBE, ESQUIRE.

EE! Daphne, fee! the fun, with purer light,

SEE!

Now gilds the morn, and chaces gloomy night; Advancing each return with brighter beams, He fpreads his glories o'er the fields and ftreams. The fnow diffolves before the western gale, And vernal flowers adorn the smiling vale. To life renew'd the budding trees awake, And from the ftem the rofeate bloffoms break; The Cyprian queen, o'er every grove and plain, O'er beafts and birds refumes her welcome reign; The birds are pair'd, and warble thro' the grove, And beafts obey the genial call of love. Hence first the venerable rite begun, For ages paft convey'd from fire to fon, For every fwain, on this aufpicious day, To chufe fome maid the coming year to sway; To crop the violet, and primrose fair, And deck with decent wreaths her glossy hair.

* Mifs M

For

For me, content with what wife heaven ordains,
This chequer'd scene, alternate joys and pains,
For me, the fpring of life shall bloom no more;
Nor fummer shine, nor autumn fwell her store ;
Winter alone, with cheerlefs hand, will shed,
Henceforth, the fnow of age around my head.
But, tho' this clay-built tenement decline,
Still may th' immortal guest unclouded shine;
And, if Euterpe not difdain to fmile,

Your bard from Helicon, with pleafing toil,
Will, with fresh flowers, unfading garlands twine,
To crown his sweetly-warbling Valentine.

ON

ON THE DEATH OF KING GEORGE II.

AND THE INAUGURATION OF HIS PRESENT

MAJESTY.

BY THOMAS WARTON, M. A. POETRY-PROFESSOR AT OXFORD.

TO MR. SECRETARY PITT.

O ftream the forrows that embalm the brave, The tears that The tears that science sheds on glory's grave! the vows, which claffic duty pays To bless another Brunswic's rifing rays!

So

pure

O Pitt, if chofen ftrains have power to steal
Thy watchful breast a-while from Britain's weal;
If votive verfe, from facred Ifis fent,

May hope to charm thy manly mind, intent
On patriot plans which antient freedom drew,
A-while with fond attention deign to view
This ample wreath, which all th' assembled Nine,
With skill united, have confpir'd to twine.
Yes, guide and guardian of thy country's caufe!
Thy conscious heart shall hail with just applause
The duteous mufe, whofe hafte officious brings
Her blameless offering to the fhrine of kings:

VOL. II.

G

Thy

Thy tongue, well tutor❜d in historic lore,
Can fpeak her office, and her ufe of yore:
For fuch the tribute of ingenuous praise
Her harp difpens'd in Grecia's golden days;
Such were the palms, in ifles of old renown,
She cull'd to deck the guiltless monarch's crown;
When virtuous Pindar told, with Tuscan gore
How fcepter'd Hiero ftain'd Sicilia's fhore,
Or to mild Theron's raptur'd eye disclos'd
Bright vales where spirits of the brave repos'd:
Yet ftill beneath the throne, unbrib'd, she fate,
The decent hand-maid, not the slave, of state;
Pleas'd, in the radiance of the regal name,
To blend the luftre of her country's fame :
For, taught like ours, fhe dar'd, with prudent pride,
Obedience from dependence to divide :

Tho' princes claim'd her tributary lays,
With truth fevere the temper'd partial praise;
Confcious the kept her native dignity,

Bold as her flights, and as her numbers free.
And fure if e'er the mufe indulg'd her ftrains,
With juft regard, to grace heroic reigns,
Where could her glance a theme of triumph own
So dear to fame, as George's trophied throne?
At whofe firm bafe, thy ftedfast foul afpires
To wake a mighty nation's antient fires :

Afpires

Afpires to baffle faction's fpecious claim,
Rouse England's rage, and give her thunder aim:
Once more the main her conquering banners fweep,
Again her commerce darkens all the deep.
Thy fix'd refolve renews each fair decree
That made, that kept of yore, thy country free.
Call'd by thy voice, nor deaf to war's alarms,
Its willing youth the rural empire arms :
Again the lords of Albion's cultur'd plains
March the firm leaders of their faithful fwains;
As erft ftout archers, from the farm or fold,
Flam'd in the van of many a baron bold.
Nor thine the pomp of indolent debate,
The war of words, the fophiftries of state:
Nor frigid caution checks thy free design,
Nor ftops thy ftream of eloquence divine:
For thine the privilege, on few bestow'd,
To feel, to think, to speak for public good.
In vain corruption calls her venal tribes,
One common cause one common end prescribes :
Nor fear nor fraud or spares or screens the foe,
But fpirit prompts, and valour strikes the blow.
O Pitt, while honour points thy liberal plan,
And o'er the minifter exalts the man,
Ifis cogenial greets thy faithful fway,
Nor fcorns to bid a statefman grace her lay;