I that my comick Prose and Lyrick Rhime,
Had quite resign'd to the decays of Time;
Now prune my drooping Wings that flagg'd before, }
By his great Theam inspir'd, aloft I soar. }
And with new Vigour court the Muse once more: }
The Muse that Sings, how Britain in distress,
Has in her Royal Guardian found redress;
Sees a fam'd Heroe, in her awful Lord, }
Ready in shining Arms to weild his Sword, }
In brave defence of Right, by Providence restor'd: }
And as in Fable, when the Brutes made War,
When stubborn Factions with Intestine Jar;
Rashly resolv'd each other to oppose, }
Tumultuous crowds about Succession rose: }
But when they would a lawless Heir impose, }
The Soveraign Lion, the bold Parties aw'd,
Controul'd his Foes at home, and those abroad;
Proclaim'd his Right, prov'd his vindictive Power,
And made the growling Herd, all tremble at his Roar:
The Paralell is plain, and clear the Case, }
Nor must the Muse cease here her noble Chace, }
This hunt of Fame, fix'd in the Royal Race. }
The Prince is next, and by Eternal doom, }
Fated for Greatness in the Years to come, }
Whose florent Spring, now bears delightful Bloom: }
Upon that glorious Subject how my Song,
Could here dilate, but oh! my trembling Tongue,
Desponding faulters, when I Thought renew,
And still a brighter Glory in the Princess view;
Oh let that gracious Planet! whose blest Charms,
Still new Creates the Subject that she warms:
Forgive a Reverence, that transports so far,
To call her Britain's most indulgent Star;
Sent from the Pow'r that guards our grand Affairs,
That no more Strifes be for Pretending Heirs:
Let her be ever blest who doles such Joy,
And blasts aspiring Hopes that would destroy;
Fill'd with Seraphick Love does timely breed,
And bears a Race of Angels to succeed:
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