Poem upon the 10th of June, 1747

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397
Upon the Tenth of June, 1747.

Let universal Mirth now rear it’sits Head,

And Joy, exulting, o’erover the Nation spread.

Let all, this Day, forget each anxious Fear,

And cease to mourn the Ills, qchwhich Britons bear.

This Day, which, once auspicious to our Isle,

Did all it’sits long expecting Hopes fulfil,

Gave to yethe World Great Britain’s glorious Heir,

Th'The Accomplishment of Vows &and ardent Pray’rPrayer.

The Hero now in good old Age appears,

By Heav’nHeaven propitious brought to sixty Years;

While all th’the admiring World do justly own

Their present Wonder fix’dfixed on his alone;
Him 398 (398)
Him, whom no Pow’rPower can force, no Art persuade,

To shake that Basis, so securely laid

On in-born Virtue, qchwhich maintains it’sits Reign,

While all yethe Strorms of Fortune rage in vain

He thro’through yethe dusky Gloom more bright does shine,

And in yethe ambient Cloud appears divine.

Remove yethe Cloud, kind Heav’nHeaven, &and shewshow ytthat Ray,

Sparkling in brightest Splendor of yethe Day!

Content wtwith Trials of Misfortunes past,

Allow deserved Honours at the last.

Had I been born wtwith Homer’s fertilfertile Vein,

Or softer Genius of yethe Mantuan Swain,2

To ha’vehave rais’draised an Iliad in my Sov’reignSovereign’s Praise,

And sung his Fame in never-dying Lays,

The World had first admir’dadmired his manly State,

And wonder’dwondered how he strove wtwith adverse Fate;

The future Glories of our Monarch now

Had swell’dswelled my Song, &and made my Numbers grow.

But tho’though my Muse does no such Fire impart,

The Mind is faithful, &and sincere yethe Heart.

Then, while in humble Notes our Joy we sing,

Paying our private Homage to yethe King,

Bright Pheobus, gild each Corner of yethe Sky,

And wtwith new Lustre feed our dazleddazzled Eye,

T’Toinspire our Mirth, &and animate our Joy!

But see, yethe Face of Heav’nHeaven begins to frown,

The sullen, heavy Day goes lowring3 on;

The Sun in Mists &and Vapours hides his ~~Face~~^Head,

And gloomy Darkness o’erover yethe World is spread!
Hear, 399 (399)
Hear, Heav’n’sHeaven's hoarse Voice runs murmuring ^thro’through the Sky,

And Pales of horrid Thunder dreadful fly;

Flashes of Lightning thro’through yethe Air do gleam,

And Æther Seems but one continued Flame!

Clouds dash’ddashed on Clouds wtwith utmost Fury rend,

And on yethe drowned Earth yrtheir watery RuinesRuins send!

Kind Heav’nHeaven, is this yethe Pomp, ytthat thou do’st raise!

This thy Rejoicing on Festival Days!

To hear thy angry Threats proclaim aloud.

Thy dismal Vengeance on yethe guilty Crowd?

We kiss the Hand, from qncewhence those TerroursTerrors come,

And own our well-deserv’ddeserved &and fatal Doom.

We take yethe Omen, which thou’st pleas’dpleased to give.

Our Errors we repent; then let us live.

Thou spurn’stspurnest to see this Day neglected lie,

Another shining with vain Pageantry.

Since then in Anger once thou hast declar’ddeclared,

That Vice no more shall triumph wtwith Regard,

Let all the Plagues of Murder now be flung

On these curstcursed BrattsBrats, fmfrom qmwhom our Mischief Sprung.

There’s ruffling Work abroad, &and hence must flow

Mutations here, th’the Usurper’s Overthrow.

Tho’Though at some Distance, yet, methinks, I hear

Most pleasant News, the Restoration’s near!

Receive the Off’ringsOfferings, which we humble make,

Appease thy Fury ere thy Vengeance break.

Accept our Penitence, and let us see

Our Monarch glorious, &and our Country free.

Soliloquy