EPISTLES.
67
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/ef/Pastorals_Epistles_Odes_%281748%29_-_fleuron_type_9.png/400px-Pastorals_Epistles_Odes_%281748%29_-_fleuron_type_9.png)
To the Right Honourable Charles Lord Halifax, one of the Lords Justices appointed by His Majesty.
1714.
![P](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f1/Pastorals_Epistles_Odes_%281748%29_-_Capital_P_type_2.png/80px-Pastorals_Epistles_Odes_%281748%29_-_Capital_P_type_2.png)
The muse's fav'rite, and the poet's friend!
Approaching joys my ravish'd thoughts inspire:
I feel the transport; and my soul's on fire! 4
Again Britannia rears her awful head:
Her fears, transplanted, to her foes are fled.
Again her standard she displays to view;
And all its faded lillies bloom anew. 8
Here beauteous Liberty salutes the fight,
Still pale, nor yet recover'd of her fright,
Whilst here Religion, smiling to the skies,
Her thanks expresses with up-lifted eyes. 12
Her fears, transplanted, to her foes are fled.
Again her standard she displays to view;
And all its faded lillies bloom anew. 8
Here beauteous Liberty salutes the fight,
Still pale, nor yet recover'd of her fright,
Whilst here Religion, smiling to the skies,
Her thanks expresses with up-lifted eyes. 12
But who advances next, with chearful grace,
Joy in her eye, and plenty in her face?
Joy in her eye, and plenty in her face?
A