"Yes, happy child! I mark th' approaching day, When warring natures will confess thy sway; When thou shalt Saturn's golden reign restore, And Vice and Folly shall be known no more.
"Pride shall not then in human kind have place,
Chang'd by thy skill, to Dignity and Grace;
While Shame, who now betrays the inward sense
Of secret ill, shall be thy Diffidence;
Avarice shall thenceforth prudent Forecast be,
And bloody Vengeance, Magnanimity;
The lavish tongue shall honest truths impart,
The lavish hand shall shew the generous heart,
And Indiscretion be, contempt of art:
Folly and Vice shall then, no longer known,
Be, this as Virtue, that as Wisdom, shown.
"Then shall the Robber, as the Hero rise
To seize the good, that churlish law denies;
Throughout the world, shall rove the generous band,
And deal the gifts of heaven, from hand to hand.
"In thy blest days, no tyrant shall be seen,
Thy gracious kings shall rule contented men:
In thy blest days, shall not a rebel be,
But patriots all, and well approv'd of thee."
"Such powers are thine, that man, by thee, shall
The gainful secret from the cautious breast;
Nor then, with all his care, the good retain,
But yield to thee, the secret and the gain.
In vain, shall much experience guard the heart,
Against the charm of thy prevailing art;
Admitted once, so soothing is thy strain,
It comes the sweeter, when it comes again;
And when confest as thine, what mind so strong,
Forbears the pleasure it indulg'd so long?
"Soft'ner of every ill! of all our woes
The balmy Sólace! Friend of fiercest Foes!
Begin thy reign, and like the morning rise;
Bring joy, bring beauty, to our eager eyes;
Break on the drowsy World like opening day,
While grace and gladness join thy flow'ry way;
While every voice is praise, while every heart is gay.
"From thee, all prospects shall new beauties take,
'Tis thine to seek them, and 'tis thine to make;
On the cold Fen, I see thee turn thine eyes,
Its mists recede, its.chilling vapour flies;
Th'enraptur'd Lord, th' improving ground surveys,
And for his Eden, asks the Traveller's praise,
Which yet, unview'd of thee, a bog had been,
Where spungy rushes hide the plashy green.
"I see thee breathing on the barren moor,
That seems to bloom, although so bleak before;
There if beneath the Gorze the Primrose spring,
Or the pied Daisy smile below the Ling,
They shall new charms, at thy command disclose,
And none shall miss the Myrtle or the Rose.
The wiry Moss, that whitens all the hill,
Shall live a beauty by thy matchless skill;
Gale* from the bog shall yield Arabian Balm,
And the Grey Willow wave a golden Palm.
• "Myrica Gale," a shrub growing in boggy and fenny grounds.
"I see thee, smiling in the pictur'd room, Now breathing beauty, now reviving bloom; There, each immortal name, 'tis thine to give, To graceless forms, and bid the lumber live. Should'st thou coarse Boors or gloomy Martyrs see, These shall thy Guidos, those thy Tenniers be; There shalt thou, Raphaël's saints and angels trace, There make for Rubens and for Reynolds place, And all the pride of art shall find in her, disgrace. "Delight of either Sex! thy reign commence ; With balmy sweetness, soothe the weary sense, And to the sickening soul thy cheering aid dispense. Queen of the Mind! thy golden age begin; In mortal bosoms, varnish shame and sin, Let all be fair without, let all be calm within."
The vision fled, the happy Mother rose, Kiss'd the fair Infant, smil'd at all her foes, And FLATTERY made her name:-Her reign began, Her own dear Sex she rul'd, then vanquish'd Man; A smiling friend, to every class, she spoke, Assum'd their manners and their habits took; Her, for her humble mein, the modest lov'd; Her cheerful looks, the light and gay approv'd;
The just beheld her, firm; the valiant, brave
Her mirth, the free, her silence pleas'd the grave;
Zeal heard her voice, and as he preach'd aloud,
Well-pleas'd he caught her whispers from the crowd,
(Those whispers soothing-sweet to every ear,
Which some refuse to pay, but none to hear):
Shame fled her presence; at her gentle strain,
Care softly smil'd, and Guilt forgot its pain;
The wretched thought, the happy found, her true,
The learn'd confess'd, that well their worth she knew
The rich-could they a constant friend condemn ?
The poor
believ'd-for who should flatter them?
Thus on her name, while all disgrace attend, In every creature she beholds a friend.
Quid juvat errore, mersâ jam puppi, fateri ?
Quid lacrymæ commissa levant delicta secute?
What avails it when shipwreck'd, that error appears ? Are the crimes we commit, wash'd away by our tears?
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