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For this thy Name fucceeding Time fhall praise, A
And envy lefs thy Garter, than thy Bays. in vol
The Muse, if fir'd with thy enliv'ning Beams,
Perhaps fhall aim at more exalted Themes, along
Record our Monarch in a nobler Strain,
And fing the op'ning Wonders of his Reign sd nort
Bright Carolina's heav'nly Beauties trace, eman oT
Her valiant Confort, and his blooming Race.
A train of Kings their fruitful Love fupplies,
A glorious Scene to Albion's ravish'd Eyes ;
Who fees by Brunfwick's Hand her Scepter fway'd,
And through his Line from Age to Age convey?

'd.

An Imitation of the ProEREUS.

of

From Horace. Book I. Ode XV.

Dicam infigne, recens, adhuc,

Indictum ore alio. non fecus in jugis

Exfomnis ftupet Evias

Hebrum profpiciens, & nive candidam

Thracen, ac pede barbaro

AS

Luftratam Rhodopen.

S Mar his Round one Morning took,

Hor

(Whom fome call Earl, and fome call Duke)

And his new Brethren of the Blade,

Shiv'ring with Fear and Froft, furvey'd,
On Perth's bleak Hills he chanc'd to spy
An aged Wizard fix Foot high,

With briffled Hair, and Vifage blighted,
Wall-ey'd, bare-haunch'd and Second-fighted.
The grizly Sage in Thought profound
Beheld the Chief with Back fo round,

Then

Then roll'd his Eye-balls to and from wea O'er his paternal Hills of Snow,994 bis 29and I mo:l And into thefe tremendous Speeches golov bas y si Broke forth the Prophet without Breeches.arig N

Into what Ills betray'd, by thee, blodincH sidon 1H) This ancient Kingdom do I feedw-2M en no bãА Her Realms un-peopled and forlorn of my seri T Wae's me! that ever thou wert born! vdusvà awore Proud English Loons (our Clans o'ercome)

bлA On Scotish Pads fhall amble home;e op 9911 20335 voo I fee them drest in Bonnets blue,, fool vis to. listi (The Spoils of thy rebellious Crew) -1000 0, shoH ban I fee the Target, caft away, And chequer'd Plad become their Prey, The chequer'd Plad to make a Gown For many a Lafs in London Town.w

In vain thy hungry Mountaineers
Come forth in all their warlike Geers,
The Shield, the Piftol, Durk, and Dagger,
In which they daily wont to fwagger,
And oft have fally'd out to pillage
The Hen-roofts of fome peaceful Village,
Or, while their Neighbours were afleep, f
Have carry'd off a low-land Sheep.

What boots thy high-born Hoft of Beggars,
Mac-leans, Mac-kenzies, and Mac-gregors,
With Popish Cut-throats, perjur'd Ruffians,
And Forfter's Troop of Raggamuffins ?

In vain thy Lads around thee bandy, Inflam'd with Bag-pipe and with Brandy,

Doth not bold Sutherland the trufty, tere not sa With Heart fo true, and Voice fo rufty, it may viold brå (A loyal Soul) thy Troops affright,

While hoarfly he demands the Fight?

Doft thou not gen'rous Ilay dread,

The braveft Hand, the wifeft Heade vas stone beade Undaunted doft thou hear th' Alarms

Of hoary Athole sheath'd in Arms?

Douglas,

Douglas, who draws his Lineage down bellor nede From Thanes and Peers of high Renowned 90 Fiery, and and uncontrol'd P prometi olan otai bok young, With Knights, and Squires, and Barons Boldach (His noble Houfhold-Band) advances all jaw cial And on his Milk-white Courfer prances. aid sions aidT Thee Forfar to the Combat dates balgonq-nu amis98 19H Grown fwarthy in Iberian Wars! ve tedi ! 9m 2'9nW And Monroe kindled into Ragel rod fight broug Sourly defies thee to engage ;

He'll rout thy Foot, though ne'er fo many,
And Horfe to boot--if thou hadst any.
But fee Argyle, with watchful Eyes,
Lodg'd in his deep Entrenchments lies!
Couch'd like a Lion in thy way,
He waits to spring upon his Prey;
While like a Herd of tim'rous Deer,
Thy Army shakes and pants with Fear,
Led, by their doughty Gen'ral's Skill,
From Frith to Frith, from Hill to Hill.
Is thus thy haughty Promise paid
That to the Chevalier was made,
When thou didst Oaths and Duty barter,
For Dukedom, Gen'ralfhip, and Garter?
Three Moons thy Femmy fhall command,
With highland Scepter in his Hand,
Too good for his pretended Birth.

-Then down fhall fall the King of Perth.
"Tis fo decreed: for GEORGE fhall reign,
And Traitors be forfworn in vain.
Heav'n fhall for ever on him smile,
And bless him ftill with an Argyle.
While thou, purfu'd by vengeful Foes,
Condemn'd to barren Rocks and Snows,
And hinder'd paffing Inverlocky,

Shall burn thy Clan, and curfe poor Focky

K

An EPISTLE from a Lady in England

to a Gentleman at Avignon.

To thee, dear Rover, and thy vanquifh'd Friends,

The Health, the wants, thy gentle Chloe fends.

Though much you fuffer, think I fuffer more,
Worfe than an Exile on my native Shore.
Companions in your Mafter's Flight you roam,
Unenvy'd by your haughty Foes at home;
For ever near the royal Outlaws fide

You share his Fortunes, and his Hopes divide,
On glorious Schemes, and Thoughts of Empire dwell,
And with imaginary Titles fwell,

1

I

Say, for thou know'ft I own his facred Line, The paffive Doctrine, and the Right Divine, Say, what new Succours does the Chief prepare? The Strength of Armies? or the Force of Pray'r? Does he from Heav'n or Earth his Hopes derive? From Saints departed, or from Priefts alive? Nor Saints nor Priests can Brunfwick's Troops withftand, And Beads drop useless through the Zealot's Hand; Heav'n to our Vows may future Kingdoms owe, But Skill and Courage win the Crowns below. Ere to thy Caufe, and thee, my Heart inclin'd, Or Love to Party had feduc'd my Mind, In female Joys I took a dull Delight, Slept all the Morn, and punted half the Night: But now, with Fears and public Cares poffeft, The Church, the Church, for ever breaks my Rest. The Poftboy on my Pillow I explore,

And fift the News of ev'ry foreign Shore,
Studious to find new Friends, and new Allies;
What Armies march from Sweden in difguife;
How Spain prepares her Banners to unfold,
And Rome deals out her Bleffings, and her Gold:

Then

Then o'er the Map my Finger, taught to ftray,
Cross many a Region marks the winding Way;
From Sea to Sea, from Realm to Realm I rove,
And grow a meer Geographer by Love:
But ftill Avignon, and the pleafing Coaft
That holds thee banish'd, claims my Care the moft:
Oft on the well-known Spot I fix
my Eyes,
And span the Distance that between us lies.

PT
Let not our James tho' foil'd in Arms, defpair,
Whilft on his fide he reckons half the Fair:
In Britain's lovely Ifle a fhining Throng
War in his Cause, a thousand Beauties ftrong.
Th' unthinking Victors vainly boaft their Pow'rs;
Be theirs the Musket, while the Tongue is ours.
We reafon with fuch Fluency and Fire,

The Beaux we baffle, and the Learned tire,
Against her Prelates plead the Church's Caufe,
And from our Judges vindicate the Laws.
Then mourn not, hapless Prince, thy Kingdoms loft,
A Crown, tho' late, thy facred Brow may boaft;
Heav'n feems through us thy Empire to decree;
Those who win Hearts, have giv'n their Hearts to thee.
Haft thou not heard that, when profufely gay,
Our well-dreft Rivals grac'd their Sov'reign's Day,
We ftubborn Damfels met the public View
In loathfom Wormwood, and repenting Rue?
What Whig but trembled, when our spotless Band
In Virgin-Rofes whiten'd half the Land!
Who can forget what Fears the Foe poffeft,
When Oaken-boughs mark'd ev'ry loyal Breaft!
Lefs fcar'd near Medway's Stream the Norman ftood,
When cross the Plain he spy'd a marching Wood,
Till, near at hand, a gleam of Swords betray'd
The Youth of Kent beneath its wandring Shade.
Thofe, who the Succours of the Fair despise,
May find that we have Nails as well as Eyes.
Thy female Bands, O Prince by Fortune croft,
At leaft more Courage than thy Men may boaft: