Epistles.
121
Then o'er the map my finger taught to stray
Cross many a region marks the winding way;
From sea to sea, from realm to realm, I rove, 35
And grow a mere geographer by love;
But still Avignon and the pleasing coast
That holds thee banish'd claims my care the most;
Oft' on the wellknown spot I fix my eyes,
And span the distance that between us lies. 40
Let not our James tho' foil'd in arms despair
Whilst on his side he reckons half the fair.
In Britain's lovely isle a shining throng
War in his cause, a thousand beauties strong.
Th' unthinking victors vainly boast their pow'rs; 45
Be theirs the musket while the tongue is ours.
We reason with such fluency and fire
The beaux we baffle and the learned tire,
Against her prelates plead the church's cause,
And from our judges vindicate the laws. 50
Then mourn not, hapless Prince! thy kingdoms lost,
A crown tho' late thy sacred brows may boast;
Heav'n seems thro' us thy empire to decree;
Those who win hearts have giv'n their hearts to thee.
Hast thou not heard that when profusely gay 55
Our welldrest rivals grac'd their sov'reign's day,
We stubborn damsels met the publick view
In loathsome wormwood and repenting rue?
What Whig but trembled when our spotless band
In virgin roses whiten'd half the land! 60
Cross many a region marks the winding way;
From sea to sea, from realm to realm, I rove, 35
And grow a mere geographer by love;
But still Avignon and the pleasing coast
That holds thee banish'd claims my care the most;
Oft' on the wellknown spot I fix my eyes,
And span the distance that between us lies. 40
Let not our James tho' foil'd in arms despair
Whilst on his side he reckons half the fair.
In Britain's lovely isle a shining throng
War in his cause, a thousand beauties strong.
Th' unthinking victors vainly boast their pow'rs; 45
Be theirs the musket while the tongue is ours.
We reason with such fluency and fire
The beaux we baffle and the learned tire,
Against her prelates plead the church's cause,
And from our judges vindicate the laws. 50
Then mourn not, hapless Prince! thy kingdoms lost,
A crown tho' late thy sacred brows may boast;
Heav'n seems thro' us thy empire to decree;
Those who win hearts have giv'n their hearts to thee.
Hast thou not heard that when profusely gay 55
Our welldrest rivals grac'd their sov'reign's day,
We stubborn damsels met the publick view
In loathsome wormwood and repenting rue?
What Whig but trembled when our spotless band
In virgin roses whiten'd half the land! 60
