He 's come, he's fafe at fhore; I hear the noise.
Of a whole land which does at once rejoice,
I hear th' united people's facred voice.
The fea, which circles us around,

Ne'er fent to land fo loud a found;
The mighty fhout fends to the fea a gale,
And fwells up every fail:

The bells and guns are scarcely heard at all;
The artificial joy 's drown'd by the natural.
All England but one bonfire seems to be,
One Ætna shooting flames into the sea :
The starry worlds, which shine to us afar,
Take ours at this time for a star.

With wine all rooms, with wine the conduits, flow
And we, the priests of a poetic rage,.

Wonder that in this golden, age ›

The rivers too fhould not do fo.
There is no Stoick, fure, who would not now

Ev'n fome excefs allow ;

And grant that one wild fit of chearful folly
Should end our twenty years of difmal melancholy..

Where's now the royal mother, where,

To take her mighty share

In this fo ravishing fight,

And, with the part she takes, to add to the delight?

Ah! why art thou not here,

Thou always beft, and now the happiest Queen-!
To fee our joy, and with new joy be seen ?

}

God

God has a bright example made of thee,
To fhew that woman-kind may be
Above that fex which her fuperior feems,
In wifely managing the wide extremes
Of great affliction, great felicity.

How well thofe different virtues thee become,
Daughter of triumphs, wife of martyrdom !
Thy princely mind with fo much courage bore
Affliction, that it dares return no more;
With fo much goodness us'd felicity,

That it cannot refrain from coming back to thee;
'Tis come, and feen to-day in all its bravery!

Who's that heroic perfon leads it on,
And gives it like a glorious bride
(Richly adorn'd with nuptial pride)
Into the hands now of thy fon?
'Tis the good General, the man of praise,
Whom God at last, in gracious pity,
Did to th' enthralled nation raise,
Their great Zerubbabel to be;
To loose the bonds of long captivity,
And to rebuild their temple and their city!
For ever bleft may he and his remain,
Who, with a vaft, though less-appearing, gain,
Preferr'd the folid Great above the Vain,

And to the world this princely truth has shown-
That more 'tis to reftore, than to usurp a crown!
Thou worthiest person of the British story!

(Though 'tis not small the British glory) VOL. I.

}

Did

Did I not know my humble verse must be
But ill-proportion'd to the height of thee,
Thou and the world fhould fee

How much my Mufe, the foe of flattery,
Does make true praise her labour and design;
An Iliad or an Æneid fhould be thine.

And ill fhould we deserve this happy day,
If no acknowledgements we pay

To you, great patriots of the two-
Moft truly Other Houses now;

Who have redeem'd from hatred and from fhame
A Parliament's once venerable name;

And now the title of a House restore,

To that which was but Slaughter-house before..
If my advice, ye worthies! might be ta'en,
Within thofe reverend places,

Which now your living prefence graces,
Your marble-statues always fhould remain,
To keep alive ufeful
your
memory,

And to your fucceffors th' example be

Of truth, religion, reason, loyalty:

For, though a firmly-fettled peace

May shortly make your public labours cease,
The grateful nation will with joy confent
That in this fense you should be said,

(Though yet the name founds with fome dread) To be the Long, the Endless, Parliament.

ON

ON THE QUEEN'S REPAIRING

WHE

HEN God (the cause to me and men unknown)
Forfook the royal houses, and his own,

And both abandon'd to the common foe;

How near to ruin did my glories go!

Nothing remain'd t' adorn this princely place

Which covetous hands could take, or rude deface..
In all my rooms and galleries I found

The richest figures torn, and all around
Difmember'd ftatues of great heroes lay;

Such Nafeby's field feem'd on the fatal day!
And me, when nought for robbery was left,

They stary'd to death: the gasping walls were cleft,.
The pillars funk, the roofs above me wept,

No fign of fpring, or joy, my garden kept;.
Nothing was feen which could content the eye,,
Till dead the impious tyrant here did lie.

See how my face is chang'd! and what I am
Since my true mistress, and now foundrefs, came!
It does not fill her bounty to restore

Me as I was (nor was I fmall before) ::

She imitates the kindness to her shown;

She does, like Heaven (which the dejected throne
At once reftores, fixes, and higher rears)
Strengthen, enlarge, exalt, what she repairs.

And now I dare (though proud I must not be,
Whilst my great mistress I so humble fee
In all her various glories) now I dare
Ev'n with the proudest palaces compare.
My beauty and convenience will, I'm fure,
So just a boast with modesty endure ;
And all must to me yield, when I shall tell
How I am plac'd, and who does in me dwell.

Before my gate a street's broad channel goes,
Which ftill with waves of crowding people flows;
And every day there paffes by my fide,

Up to its western reach, the London tide,
The fpring-tides of the term: my front looks down
On all the pride and business of the town;
My other front (for, as in kings we fee
The livelieft image of the Deity,

We in their houses fhould heaven's likeness find,
Where nothing can be faid to be Behind)
My other fair and more majestic face

(Who can the fair to more advantage place?)
For ever gazes on itself below,

In the best mirror that the world can fhow.
And here behold, in a long bending row,
How two joint-cities make one glorious bow ! -
The midft, the nobleft place, poffefs'd by me,
Beft to be seen by all, and all o'er-fee!
Which way foe'er I turn my joyful eye,

Here the great court, there the rich town, I fpy;
On either fide dwells fafety and delight ;
Wealth on the left, and power upon the right.

T' affure