Dear names, I'll meditate the faithful

How oft beneath my birch severe,

song;

Like EFFINGHAM and ABINGDON, they tingled:

EPODE II.

Or to the YOUTH IMMACULATE
Ascending thence, I'll sing the strain celestial,

By PITT, to bless our isle restor❜d.
Trim plenty, not luxuriant as of old,
Peace, laurel-crown'd no more;
Justice, that smites by scores, unmov'd;
And her of verdant locks,

Commerce, like Harlequin, in motley vesture,

+ Whose magic sword with sudden sleight,

Wav'd o'er the HIBERNIAN treaty, turns to bonds, The dreams of airy wealth, that play'd round PATRICK'S ‡ eyes.

*The present Ministry have twice gratified the public, with the awfully sublime spectacle of twenty hanged at one time.

These three lines, I mus tconfess, have been interpolated since the introduction of the fourth Proposition in the new Irish Resolutions. They arose, however, quite naturally out of my preceding personification of com

merce.

I have taken the liberty of employing Patrick in the same sense as Paddy, to personify the people of Ireland. The latter name was too colloquial for the dignity of my blank verse.

Epode II.

IMITATIONS OF MYSELF.

Justice with steady brow,

Trim plenty, Laureat peace, and green-hair'd commerce,

In flowing robe of thousand hues, &c.

On this imitation of myself, I cannot help remarking, how happily I have now applied some of these epithets, which, it must be confessed, had not half the propriety before.

A A

STROPHE III.

But lo! yon bark, that rich with India spoils,
O'er the wide-swelling ocean rides triumphant,
Oh! to BRITANNIA's shore

In safety waft, ye winds, the precious freight!
'Tis HASTINGS; of the prostrate EAST
Despotic arbiter; whose bounty gave

*

My MARKHAM's delegated rule

To riot in the plunder of BENARES.

ANTISTROPHE III.

How yet affrighted GANGES, oft distain'd With GENTOO carnage, quakes thro' all his branches! Soon may I greet the morn,

When, HASTINGS screen'd, DUNDAS and GEORGE'S

name.

One of the many frivolous charges brought against Mr. Hastings by factious men, is the removal of a Mr. FowKE, contrary to the orders of the Directors, that he might make room for his own appointment of my son to the Residentship of BENARES. I have ever thought it my duty to support the late Governor-General, both at Leadenhall and in the House of Peers, against all uch vexatious accusations.

IMITATIONS OF MYSELF.

Strophe LIL.

Or trace her navy, where in towering pride
Q'er the wide-swelling waste it rolls avengeful.

Ibid.

*

Thro' BISHOPTHORP's glad roofs shall sound,
Familiar in domestic merriment;

Or in thy chosen PLACE, ST. JAMES,
Be carol'd loud amid th' applauding IMHOFFS!

EPODE III.

When wealthy Innocence, pursued
By Factious Envy, courts a Monarch's succour,
Mean gifts of vulgar cost, alike
Dishonour him, who gives, and him, who takes.
Not thus shall HASTINGS sav'd,

Thee, BRUNSWICK, and himself disgrace.

* As many of my Competitors have complained of Signor Delpini's ignorance, I cannot help remarking here, that he did not know Bishopthors to be the name of my palace, in Yorkshire; he did not know Mr. Hastings's house to be in St. James's-place; he did not know Mrs. Hastings to have two sons by Mynhcer Imhoff, her former husband, still living. And what is more shameful than all in a Critical Assessor, he had never heard of the poetical figure, by which I elegantly say, thy place, St. James's, instead of St. James's« place.

Antistrophe III.

IMITATIONS OF MYSELF.

How headlong Rhone and Ebro, erst distain'd

With Moorish carnage, quakes thro' all her branches!
Soon shall I greet the morn,

When, Europe saved, BRITAIN and GEORGE's name
Shall soon o'er FLANDRIA's level field,

Familiar in domestic merriment;

Or by the jolly mariner

Be carol'd loud adown the echoing Danube.

Ibid.

* O may thy blooming Heir,

In virtues equal, be like thee prolific!

Till a new race of little GUELPS,

Beneath the rod of future MARKHAMS train'd, Lisp on their Grandsire's knee his mitred Laureat's lays.

* Signor Delpini wanted to strike out all that follows, because truly it had no connection with the rest. The transition, like some others in this and my former Ode to Arthur Onslow, Esq. may be too fine for vulgar apprehensions, but it is therefore the more Pindaric.

Frode III.

IMITATIONS OF MYSELF.

O may your rising hope,

Well-principled in every virtue, bloom,

'Till a fresh-springing flock implore,

With infant hands, a Grandsire's powerful prayer,

Or round your honour'd couch their pratling sports pursue.

NUMBER XXII.

ODE,

By the REV. THOMAS WARTON, B.D.

Fellow of the Trinity College, in Oxford, late Professor of Poetry in that University, and now Poet Laureat to his Majesty.

I.

AMID the thunder of the war,
True glory guides no echoing car;
Nor bids the sword her bays bequeath;
Nor stains with blood her brightest wreath :
No plumed host her tranquil triumphs own:
Nor spoils of murder'd multitudes she brings,
To swell the state of her distinguish'd kings,
And deck her chosen throne.

On that fair throne, to Britain dear,

With the flowering olive twin'd,

High she hangs the hero's spear;

And there, with all the palms of peace combin'd,
Her unpolluted hands the milder trophy rear.
To kings like these, her genuine theme,
The Muse a blameless homage pays;
To GEORGE, of kings like these supreme,
She wishes honour'd length of days,
Nor prostitutes the tribute of her lays.

II.

'Tis his to bid neglected genius glow,
And teach the regal bounty how to flow;
His tutelary sceptre's sway
The vindicated Arts obey,
And hail their patron King;