ON

THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON,

THE NIGHT OF THE 17TH MARCH, 1798.

WHEN, long sequester'd from his throne,
George took his seat again,
By right of worth, not blood alone,
Entitled here to reign;

Then, Loyalty, with all his lamps
New-trimm'd, a gallant show!
Chasing the darkness and the damps,
Set London in a glow.

'Twas hard to tell, of streets or squares, Which form'd the chief display, These most resembling cluster'd stars,

Those the long milky way.

Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires,

And rockets flew, self-driven,

To hang their momentary fires

Amid the vault of heaven.

So fire with water to compare,

The ocean serves on high Up-spouted by a whale in air, To express unwieldy joy.

Had all the pageants of the world
In one procession join'd,

And all the banners been unfurl'd
That heralds e'er design'd;

For no such sight had England's Queen Forsaken her retreat,

Where George recover'd made a scene, Sweet always, doubly sweet.

Yet glad she came that night to prove,
A witness undescried,

How much the object of her love
Was loved by all beside.

Darkness the skies had mantled o'er

In aid of her design—

Darkness, O Queen! ne'er call'd before

To veil a deed of thine!

On borrow'd wheels away she flies,
Resolved to be unknown,

And gratify no curious eyes

That night, except her own.

104

THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON.

Arrived, a night like noon she sees,
And hears the million hum;
As all by instinct, like the bees,
Had known their sovereign come.

Pleased she beheld aloft portray'd,
On many a splendid wall,
Emblems of health and heavenly aid,
And George the theme of all.

Unlike the enigmatic line,

So difficult to spell,

Which shook Belshazzar at his wine

The night his city fell.

Soon watery grew her eyes

But with a joyful tear;

and dim,

None else, except in prayer for him,
George ever drew from her.

It was a scene in every part

Like those in fable feign'd,

And seem'd by some magician's art
Created and sustain'd.

But other magic there, she knew,
Had been exerted none,

To raise such wonders in her view,
Save love of George alone.

That cordial thought her spirits cheer'd, And through the cumbrous throng Not else unworthy to be fear'd, Convey'd her calm along.

So, ancient poets say, serene
The seamaid rides the waves,
And fearless of the billowy scene
Her peaceful bosom laves.

With more than astronomic eyes
'She view'd the sparkling show
One Georgian star adorns the skies,
She myriads found below.

Yet let the glories of a night

Like that, once seen, suffice; Heaven grant us no such future sight, Such previous woe the price!

ANNUS MEMORABILIS, 1789.

WRITTEN IN

COMMEMORATION OF HIS MAJESTY'S HAPPY RECOVERY.

I RANSACK'D, for a theme of song,
Much ancient chronicle, and long;
I read of bright embattled fields,
Of trophied helmets, spears, and shields,
Of chiefs, whose single arm could boast
Prowess to dissipate a host:

Through tomes of fable and of dream,
I sought an eligible theme,

But none I found, or found them shared
Already by some happier bard.

To modern times, with Truth to guide
My busy search, I next applied;
Here cities won and fleets dispersed
Urged loud a claim to be rehearsed,
Deeds of unperishing renown,
Our fathers' triumphs, and our own.

Thus, as the bee, from bank to bower,
Assiduous sips at every flower,

But rests on none, till that be found,
Where most nectareous sweets abound:
So I from theme to theme display'd
In many a page historic stray'd,
Siege after siege, fight after fight,
Contemplating with small delight