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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,


How yet affrigbted 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


One of the many frivolous charges brought against Mr. Hastings by facrious 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 ta 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.


Strophe LIL

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


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 !


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 Bishopthorp 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 Mynheer 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 clegantly say, thy place, St. James's, instead of St. James'splace.


Antistrophe IJI.

How headlong Rhone and Ebro, erst distain's
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.

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* 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 Laureal's


* 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.


Fpode III.

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 Konour'd couch their pratling sports pursus.



By the Rev. THOMAS WARTON, B.D. Fellow of the Trinity College, in Oxford, la:e Professor

of Poetry in that University, and now Poet Laureat to his Majesty.

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.

'Tis his to bid neglected genius glow,
And teach the regal bounty how to flow;

His tutclary sceptre's sway
The vindicated Arts obey,
And hail their patron King ;

'Tis his to judgment's steady line
Their flights fantastic to confine,

And yet expand their wing :
The fleeting forms of Fashion to restrain,
And bind capricious Taste in Truth's eternal chain.

Sculpture, licentious now no more,
From Greece her great example takes,
With Nature's warmth the inarble wakes,

And spurns the toys of modern lore:
In native beauty, simply plann'd,

Corinth, thy tufted shafts ascend;
The Graces guide the painter's hand,
His magic mimicry to blend.

While such the gifts his reign bestows,

Amid the proud display,
Those gems around the throne he throws

That shed a softer ray:
While from the summits of sublime Renown

He wafts his favour's universal gale,
With those sweet flowers he binds a crown

That bloom in Virtue's humble vale. With rich munificence, the nuptial tye,

Unbroken he combines :
Conspicuous in a nation's eye,

The sacred patern shines !
Fair Science to reform, reward, and raise,
To spread the lustre of domestic praise;
To foster Emulation's holy flame,
To build Society's majestic frame:
Mankind to polish and to teach,

Be this the monarch's aim ;
Above Ambition's giant-reach

The monarch's meed to claim.

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