Henceforth be Thine, Vice-gerent of the Skies,
Scorn'd Worth to raife, and Vice in Robes chastise,
To dry the Orphan's Tears, and from the Bar
Chace the Brib'd Judge, and hush the wordy War,
Deny the curft Blafphemer's Tongue to rage,
And turn God's Fury from an impious Age.
Bleft Change! the Soldier's late destroying Hand
Shall rear new Temples in his native Land,
Mistaken Zealots fhall with Fear behold,

And beg Admittance in our sacred Fold;

On Her own Works the Pious QUEEN fhall fmile,
And turn her Cares upon her Fav'rite Isle.

So the keen Bolt a Warrior Angel aims, Array'd in Clouds, and wrapt in mantling Flames, He bears a Tempeft on his founding Wings, And his red Arm the forky Vengeance flings; At length, Heav'n's Wrath appeas'd, he quits the War, To rowle his Orb, and guide his destin'd Star, To shed kind Fate, and lucky Hours bestow, And fmile propitious on the World below.

Around Thy Throne shall faithful Nobles wait, These guard the Church, and those direct the State. To Bristol, graceful in maternal Tears,

The Church her Tow'ry Forehead gently rears,

She

She begs her pious Son t'affert her Cause,
Defend her Rights, and re-inforce her Laws,
With holy Zeal the facred Work begin,

To bend the Stubborn, and the Meek to win.

Our Oxford's Earl in careful Thought fhall ftand, To raise his QUEEN, and fave a finking Land. The wealthieft Glebe to rav'nous Spaniards known He marks, and makes the Golden World our own, Content with Hands unfoil'd to guard the Prize, And keep the Store with undefiring Eyes.

So round the Tree, that bore Hefperian Gold,
The facred Watch lay curl'd in many a Fold,
His Eyes up-rearing to th' untafted Prey,
The fleepless Guardian wafted Life away.

Beneath the peaceful Olives, rais'd by You, Her ancient Pride shall ev'ry Art renew, (The Arts with You fam'd Harcourt shall defend, And courtly Bolingbroke the Muse's Friend.) With piercing Eye fome fearch where Nature plays, And trace the Wanton through her darksome Maze, Whence Health from Herbs; from Seeds how Grove's How vital Streams in circling Eddie's run.

begun,

Some

Some teach why round the Sun the Spheres advance, In the fix'd Meafures of their myftic Dance,

How Tides, when heav'd by preffing Moons, o'erflow, And 'Sun-born Iris paints her show'ry Bow.

In happy Chains our daring Language bound, Shall fport no more in arbitrary Sound, But buskin'd Bards henceforth fhall wifely rage, And Grecian Plans reform Britannia's Stage: 'Till Congreve bids her smile, Augufta ftands, And longs to weep when flowing Rowe commands. Britain's Spectators fhall their Strength combine To mend our Morals, and our Tafte refine, Fight Virtue's Caufe, ftand up in Wit's Defence, Win us from Vice, and laugh us into Sense. Nor, Prior, haft thou hufh'd the Trump in vain, Thy Lyre fhall now revive her mirthful Strain, New Tales fhall now be told; if right I fee, The Soul of Chaucer is reftor'd in Thee. Garth, in majeftick Numbers, to the Stars Shall raife Mock-Heroes, and fantaftick Wars; Like the young fpreading Laurel, Pope, thy Name Shoots up with Strength, and rifes into Fame; With Philips fhall the peaceful Vallies ring, And Britain hear a fecond Spenfer fing.

That much-lov'd Youth, whom Utrecht's Walls confine, To Briftol's Praifes fhall his Strafford's join:

He

.

He too, from whom attentive Oxford draws
Rules for juft Thinking, and Poetick Laws,

To growing Bards his learned Aid shall lend,

The ftricteft Critick, and the kindeft Friend.

Ev'n mine, a bashful Mufe, whofe rude Effays
Scarce hope for Pardon, not afpire to Praife,
Cherifh'd by You in Time may grow to Fame,
And mine furviye with Bristol's glorious Name.

Fir'd with the Views this glitt'ring Scene difplays,
And fmit with Paffion for my Country's Praife,
My artlefs Reed attempts this lofty Theme,
Where facred Ifis rowls her ancient Stream;

In Cloyster'd Domes the great Philippa's Pride, :: [fide,
Where Learning blooms, while Farne and Worth pre-
Where the Fifth Henry Arts and Arms was taught,
And Edward form'd his Creffy, yet unfought,
Where Laurel'd Bards have ftruck the warbling Strings,
The Seat of Sages, and the Nurfe of Kings.
Here thy Commands, O Lancaster, inflame
My eager Breaft to raise the British Name,
Urge on my Soul, with no ignoble Pride,
To woo the Mufe, whom Addifon enjoy'd,
See that bold Swan to Heav'n fublimely foar,
Purfue at Distance, and his Steps adore.

AN

AN

ΙΜΙΤΑΤΙΟΝ

OF THE

PROPHECY of NEREUS.

A

From HORACE Book I. Ode XV.

Dicam infigne, recens, adhuc

Indictum ore alio. non fecus in jugis

Exfomnis ftupet Evias

Hebrum profpiciens, & nive candidam
Thracen, ac pede barbaro

Luftratam Rhodopen.

Hor.

S Mar his Round one Morning took,

(Whom some call Earl, and fome call Duke)

And his new Brethren of the Blade,

Shiv'ring with Fear and Froft, furvey'd,

On Perth's bleak Hills he chanc'd to spy
An Aged Wizard fix Foot high,

With bristled Hair, and Visage blighted,
Wall-ey'd, bare-haunch'd, and Second-sighted.

The grizly Sage in Thought profound Beheld the Chief with Back fo Round,