English

Judge Omnipotent thou, of Pow'r immense,
Thou true Discerner of our human Sense;
Thou great Protector, and thou only Friend
On whom, for all Things, I alone depend,
Divest my Soul of ev'ry frail Design,
And make it spotless, pure and only Thine;
From ev'ry erring Thought, O! set it free,
And let me speak, or think, of naught but Thee.

Ah! soft wanton zephyrs soft blow,
On th' bank is Miranda reclin'd;
Disturb not those hillocks of snow,
Which alternate rise with the wind.

Distil from each fragrant flower,
The sweets which your breath can impart;
And Love, let her feel thy soft pow'r,
But cautiously wound with thy dart.

Be certain you strike not too deep,
Nor give her fair bosom a pain;
And, ah! when awaken'd from sleep,

When Flora heard of Cowslip's fame,
The jealous goddess blush'd for shame: —
" Who dares, " she cry'd, " vindictive own,
An earthly fair usurps my throne! " —
" Descend, " said Pallas, with a smile,
" With me descend to Britain's isle,
Where joyous shall my sister see
The rustic nymph — Simplicity. "
She came — she saw — and pleas'd, she cry'd,
" Yes — Wells is Nature's rural pride.
No more I'll chide the lovely girl,
Who acts sweet innocence so well;
But sign in heav'n the fix'd decree,

Concordia's Favorite, Britannia, smiles,
And sends glad Tidings, to her Sister Isles;
The high-arch'd Heav'ns echo forth the Tale,
Hymen and Love, in George 's Breast prevail.
The youthful Monarch, struck with Virtue's Charms,
To blest Charlotta opes his Royal Arms;
Amidst repeated Conquests, courts the Fair
To share his Glory, and his Kingdoms share.

AIR.

Love and Hymen , both united
To subdue him, but clear-sighted,
Prudence wou'd the Shaft direct;
Wisdom and Religion siding,

The mournful Muse, in dismal Sable drest,
Her Head, sunk low upon her pensive Breast;
With Arms across, unanimated lies,
And speaks her Grief, 'tween interrupting Sighs.
Mourn, mourn, with me, ye People, and give way
To honest Tears — a Tribute we shou'd pay,
To the blest Manes , of our belov'd King!
Our Father! Friend! — Legitimately spring
The deep-felt Sorrow, which your Looks express;
Nor shou'd it, for so good a King, be less:
He, as a tender Parent, anxious strove
To raise his People, and to shew his Love;

Ah, cruel hand! that could such pow'r employ
To teach the pictur'd beauty to destroy!
Singly she charm'd before, but, by his skill,
The living beauty and her likeness kill!
Thus when in parts the broken mirrors fall,
A face in all is seen, and charms in all!
Think then, O fairest of the fairer race!
What fatal beauties arm thy heavenly face,
Whose very shadow can such flames inspire!
We see 'tis paint, and yet we feel 'tis fire.
See, with false life the lovely image glows,
And ev'ry wondrous grace transplanted shows;

O thou! whose virtues sanctify thy state,
O great without the vices of the great!
Form'd by a dignity of mind to please,
To think, to act, with elegance and ease!
Say, wilt thou listen while I tune the string,
And sing to thee who gav'st me ease to sing?
Unskill'd in verse, I haunt the silent grove,
Yet lowly shepherds sing to mighty Jove,
And mighty Jove attends the shepherds vows,
And gracious what his suppliants ask bestows:
So by thy favour may the muse be crown'd,
And plant her laurels in more fruitful ground;

( " Souvent quand mon esprit riche. " )

When my mind, on the ocean of poesy hurled,
Floats on in repose round this wonderful world,
Oft the sacred fire from heaven —
Mysterious sun, that gives light to the soul —
Strikes mine with its ray, and above the pole
Its upward course is driven,

Like a wandering cloud, then, my eager thought
Capriciously flies, to no guidance brought,
With every quarter's wind;

The lift'ning trees Amphion drew
To dance from hills where once they grew,
But you express a pow'r more great;
The flow'rs you draw not but create.

Behold your own creation rise,
And smile beneath your radiant eyes:
'Tis beauteous all! and yet receives
From you more graces than it gives.

But say, amid the softer charms
Of blooming flow'rs, what mean these arms?
So round the fragrance of the rose
The pointed thorn to guard it grows.

But cruel you who thus employ,
Both arms and beauty to destroy!

( " J'etais seul pres des flots. " )

I stood by the waves, while the stars soared in sight,
Not a cloud specked the sky, not a sail shimmered bright;
Scenes beyond this dim world were revealed to mine eye;
And the woods, and the hills, and all nature around,
Seem'd to question with moody, mysterious sound,
The waves, and the pure stars on high.

And the clear constellations, that infinite throng,
While thousand rich harmonies swelled in their song,