A Poem on the Death of King George I. And Accession of King George II

SAY, mournful Muse, declare thy rising Woe,
What heaves thy Heart; and whence thy
Sorrows flow?
Why in thy Face such anxious Grief appears;
And o'er thy Eye-balls swim the speaking Tears:
O GEORGE, thy Death my flowing Numbers mourn,
Thy sacred Ashes, and distinguish'd Urn:
Thee, ev'ry Muse, and every Grace deplores,
From Thames's Banks, to these Atlantick Shores,
Each Bard his Grief in gliding Accents shews,
And fairest Eyes distill their crystal Dews.

O! were my Breast flush'd with an equal Fire,
Vast as my Theme, and strong as my Desire!
Then, mighty GEORGE, then should my Notes arise,
And spreading Musick echo round the Skies;
Thy Name, in tuneful Measures led along,
Should dance, harmonious, through my flowing Song;
The raptur'd Muse thy awful Form reveal,
Describe thy Counsels, and thy Actions tell;
Bid dying Sounds thy ravish'd Life bemoan,
Or shouting Nations hail thee to thy Throne;
Each various Scene, with varying Numbers crown'd,
Should Earth, and Sea, and Air, and Heav'n resound.

Long ere his Albion triumph'd in his Reign
His Sword glar'd dreadful o'er th' Hungarian Plain,
Witness, ye Troops, thro' whose wide Ranks he ran,
Rowz'd the fierce War, and call the Tumult on:
Say, how divinely then his Aspect show'd,
What Conduct shone! what dauntless Courage glow'd
When Man to Man, and Smoke oppos'd to Smoke,
Flames flash'd at Flames, at Thunder Thunder broke,
When Death indignant, drove his Iron Car,
Thro' the dire Havock of the raging War;
Say, Goddess, how th' intrepid Hero flies,
To meet the Monster with undaunted Eyes;
'Till smilling Vict'ry, and immortal Peace,
Hung o'er his Head, and bid the Battel cease!

Record, O heavenly Muse he illistrious Day,
When joyful Britain own'd his sov'reign Sway.
Conceal'd forever, lie the Acts which stain
The last black Months, the Shades of ANNA's Reign;
When secret Treason work'd, when Justice fled,
And loud Destruction threatned o'er our Head,
'Twas then, by Heav'n ordain'd, his happy Hand
From Ruin rescu'd the devoted Land,
The Storm was hush, the clam'rous Factions laid,
And peaceful Olive spread its wealthy Shade.
So when dark Clouds hang heavy o'er the Main,
And bellying down, distend with Floods of Rain,
To push them on, the Winds their Forces try,
While they, slow-sailing, labour up the Sky;
The thickning Volumes spread the heavenly Doom,
And as they pass, project a solemn Gloom:
Dissolving now, a drisling Dew distills,
Dampens the Vales, and sprinkles round the Hills;
Still gathering Strength, the airy Sluces low'r,
And on the Fields descends a copious Show'r,
Last, furious grown, down rush the rapid Rains,
And pour impetuous, spatt'ring on the Plains.
If then the Sun breaks out, the Shadows fly,
And the gay Rainbow arches o'er the Sky.

Hail! happy Albion, Heav'ns peculiar Care,
See thy Deliv'rer to thy Shores repair!
Flourish, ye Fields; ye Groves, exalt your Heads,
Where Thame's Currant murmurs o'er the Meads!
And thou, Augusta, sparkling in my Eyes,
Let thy tall Tow'rs, and shining Turrets rise;
Where Riches glitter, Mirth for ever sings,
And smiling Plenty spreads her golden Wings:
For thee, Peru her beamy Face displays,
For thee the orient Stores of Ganges blaze;
A thousand Pleasures crown thy flow'ry Plains,
While GEORGE divinely o'er thy Kingdom reigns.

But, Oh! at once the heav'nly Scenes decay,
And all the gaudy Vision fades away.
He dies — my Muse, the dismal Sound forbear:
In ev'ry Eye debates the falling Tear;
A thousand Passions o'er my Bosom roll,
Swell in my Heart, and shock my inmost Soul.
He dies — Let Nature own the direful Blow,
Sigh, all ye Winds; with Tears, ye Rivers flow;
Let the hoarse Ocean, loud in Anguish rore;
And Tides of Grief pour plenteous on the Shore:
No more the Spring shall bloom, or Morning rise,
But Night eternal wrap the sable Skies.

Enough, my Muse, give all thy Tears away,
Break, ye dull Shades; and rise, the rosey Day,
Quicken, O Sun, thy Chariot dazling bright,
And o'er thy flaming Empire pour the Light.
O Spring, along the laughing Lawns be seen
Fields always fresh, and Groves for ever green:
Let Britain's Sorrows cease, her Joys enlarge,
The first revives in thee the second GEORGE.
Hail! mighty Prince, O shining Sov'reign, hail!
Fain would the Muse lisp her prophetick Tale,
In mystic Lays thy future Years relate,
And sing the Records of unripen'd Fate;
Bid thee in Fame's triumphant Chariot ride,
And CAROLINA glitter by the Side:
Fair Princess, thou, in whose majestick Eyes,
Dawn heav'nly Beauties, and immortal Joys:
By thee, shall Albion suture Triumphs own,
And a long Race of Hero's grace her Throne;
Here FREDERICK in Bloom of Years shall stand,
Here youthful WILLIAM blossom o'er the Land;
Thou ANNA, here, with Charms celestial crown'd,
And all the heav'nly Sisters flame around.

Ev'n our far Shores confess the big Delight,
Where the faint Sun rolls down his golden Light;
The dancing Billows leap along the Main,
Proud of th' Extent of GEORGE's happy Reign;
Applauding Thunders shake the Air around,
Waves shout to Waves, and Rocks to Rocks resound;
Each humane Breast glows with resistless Fire,
And cv'ry Angel strikes his sounding Lyre,

O live auspicious Prince; live, radiant Queen,
Long let your Influence guild the glorious Scene:
And you, fair Offspring, form'd for high Command.
Flourish, ye blooming Honours of the Land:
So when from the dim Courts below you fly
To the bright Regions of the upper Sky;
Where Trees of Life by living Riv'lets team,
Wave their tall Heads, and paint the running Stream,
May round your Heads Crowns flash, celestial-bright,
And regal Purple change for Robes of Light;
Taste Charms still new, and Joys without Decay,
While endless Years in Raptures roll away.