VII. How mufic charms! How metre warms! Parent of actions, good and brave! And worth inflames! And holds proud empire o'er the grave! VIII. Jove mark'd for man A fcanty span, But lent him wings to fly his doom; To Wit he gave The life of gods! immortal bloom! If in life's phantom, Fame, we foar. VOL. I. M XI. Our XI. Our ftrains divide The laurel's pride; With those we lift to life, to live; By fame enroll'd With heroes bold, And fhare the bleffings which we give XII. What hero's praise Like His, with whom my lay begun? "Juftice fincere, "And courage clear, "Rife the two columns of his throne. XIII. "How form'd for fway! They read the monarch in his port: "Their love and awe "And his own luftre makes the court:" XIV. On yonder height, What golden light Triumphant fhines? And fhines alone? The nations gaze! 'Tis not the Sun; 'tis Britain's throne. XV. Our XV. Our Monarch, there, Should tempefts rife, difdains to bend ; At his proud foot The fea, pour'd out, Immortal nourishment supplies; Thence wealth and state, And power and fate, Which Europe reads in GEORGE's eyes. XVIII. From what we view, We take the clue, Which leads from great to greater things: But gods adore, When fuch resemblance fhines in kings. M 2 EPISTLES |