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The German eagle feels her guardian dead; Not her own thunder can secure her head; Her trembling eaglets hasten from afar, And Belgia's lion dreads the Gallic war. All hide behind thy shield. Remoter lands, Whose lives lay trusted in Nassovian hands, Transfer their souls, and live; secure they play In thy mild rays, and love the growing day.

Thy beamy wing at once defends and warms
Fainting Religion, whilst, in various forms,
Fair Piety shines through the British isles.
Here at thy side, and in thy kindest smiles,1
Blazing in ornamental gold she stands,

To bless thy councils, and assist thy hands,
And crowds wait round her to receive commands.
There, at a humble distance from the throne,2
Beauteous she lies; her lustre all her own;
Ungarnished, yet not blushing nor afraid,
Nor knows suspicion, nor affects the shade:
Cheerful and pleas'd, she not presumes to share
In thy parental gifts, but owns thy guardian care.
For thee, dear Sovereign, endless vows arise,
And Zeal with earthly wing salutes the skies
To gain thy safety. Here a solemn form1
Of ancient words keeps the devotion warm,
And guides but bounds our wishes: there the
mind 2

Feels its own fire, and kindles, unconfin'd,

1 The Established Church of England.

2 The Protestant Dissenters.

With bolder hopes: yet still beyond our vows Thy lovely glories rise, thy spreading terror grows.

Princess, the world already owns thy name: Go, mount the chariot of immortal fame, Nor die to be renown'd: Fame's loudest breath Too dear is purchas'd by an angel's death. The vengeance of thy rod, with general joy, Shall scourge rebellion and the rival boy :1 Thy sounding arms his Gallic patron hears, And speeds his flight; nor overtakes his fears, Till hard despair wring from the tyrant's soul The iron tears out. Let thy frown control Our angry jars at home, till Wrath submit Her impious banners to thy sacred feet; Mad Zeal, and Frenzy, with their murderous train, Flee these sweet realms in thine auspicious reign, Envy expire in rage, and Treason bite the chain.

Let no black scene affright fair Albion's stage: Thy thread of life prolong our golden age; Long bless the earth, and late ascend thy throne Ethereal (not thy deeds are there unknown, Nor there unsung; for by thy awful hands Heaven rules the waves, and thunders o'er the [mands.)

lands,

Creates inferior kings,2 and gives them their com

1 The Pretender.

2 She made Charles, the Emperor's second son, King of Spain, who was afterwards Emperor of Germany.

Legions attend thee at the radiant gates;
For thee thy sister-seraph, blest Maria, waits.

But oh, the parting stroke! some heavenly

power

Cheer thy sad Britons in the gloomy hour;
Some new propitious star appear on high
The fairest glory of the western sky,
And Anna be its name; with gentle sway
To check the planets of malignant ray,

Soothe the rude north wind, and the rugged Bear,
Calm rising wars, heal the contagious air,
And reign with peaceful influence to the southern
sphere.

NOTE. This poem was written in the year 1705, in that honourable part of the reign of our late queen when she had broke the French power at Blenheim, asserted the right of Charles, the present Emperor, to the crown of Spain, exerted her zeal for the Protestant succession, and promised inviolably to maintain the toleration to the Protestant Dissenters. Thus she appeared the chief support of the Reformation, and the patroness of the liberties of Europe.

The latter part of her reign was of a different colour, and was by no means attended with the accomplishment of those glorious hopes which we had conceived. Now the Muse cannot satisfy herself to publish this new edition, without acknowledging the mistake of her former presages; and while she does the world this justice, she does herself the honour of a voluntary retractation.

August 1, 1721.

PALINODIA.

BRITONS, forgive the forward Muse
That dar'd prophetic seals to loose,
(Unskill'd in fate's eternal book,)
And the deep characters mistook.

George is the name, that glorious star;
Ye saw his splendors beaming far;
Saw in the east your joys arise,

When Anna sunk in western skies,

Streaking the heavens with crimson gloom,
Emblems of tyranny and Rome,
Portending blood and night to come.
"Twas George diffus'd a vital ray,
And gave the dying nations day:
His influence soothes the Russian Bear,
Calms rising wars, and heals the air;
Join'd with the sun his beams are hurl'd
To scatter blessings round the world,
Fulfil whate'er the Muse has spoke,
And crown the work that Anne forsook.
August 1, 1721.

TO JOHN LOCKE, ESQ.,

RETIRED FROM BUSINESS.

ANGELS are made of heavenly things,
And light and love our souls compose;
Their bliss within their bosom springs,
Within their bosom flows.

But narrow minds still make pretence
To search the coasts of flesh and sense,
And fetch diviner pleasures thence.
Men are akin to ethereal forms,
But they belie their nobler birth,
Debase their honour down to earth,

And claim a share with worms.

He that has treasures of his own,
May leave the cottage or the throne,
May quit the globe, and dwell alone
Within his spacious mind.

Locke hath a soul wide as the sea,
Calm as the night, bright as the day;

There may his vast ideas play,

Nor feel a thought confin'd.