Classic Poem

On His MAJESTY'S Illness .

Long fix'd in this rural retreat,
To pleasures domestic confined,
No troubles, I thought, of the great
Cou'd ruffle the calm of my mind:
Each morning contented I rose,
And bless'd the return of the light;
At even, prepared for repose,
And quietly slept thro' the night.

The moments thus glided away,
Reliev'd by the Muse, with a song;
So cheerfully pass'd the long day,
That I never once thought it too long;
For friendship, with love in her train,
Enraptured the moments that flew;
And the forest and furze-skirted plain,
Were objects still dear to the view.

But, ah! what sad tidings I hear!
With anguish I list to the tale!
My eye is surcharge'd with a tear,
And I sigh to the sorrowing gale!
The heart that is human must mourn,
The tear of compassion will flow:
Will the bright-fun of healing return —
To gild this horizon of woe?

O, Lord of soft mercy, attend!
The ragings of frenzy controul,
Bid the beams of refreshment descend,
And relume the dark sphere of his soul!
In pity — Oh! hear us complain!
In mercy — attend to our prayer!
Assist him, his woes to sustain,
And shield his sad mind from despair!

O, T HURLOW , thy virtue is great,
(Thy virtue with transport I sing)
May blessings for ever await
The man — thus attach'd to his K ING !
Be steady, and firm in the cause
Which heaven commits to thy hand,
Defend us and succour our laws ,
The bulwark, and strength of the land.

And P ITT , thou great champion of truth!
In wisdom and politics — sage,
Who temper'st the ardour of youth —
With the thought and precision of age:
Whose manners, all pure, and refined,
Disdain the vain trappings of art;
Whose cause — is the cause of mankind, —
" Whose words — the excess of the heart, " —

A heart — with benevolence fraught,
Which Faction, adverse, would repress;
Which nature indulgently taught —
To soften the pangs of distress:
Who feels for the Monarch he loves,
Whose right he, intrepid, maintains;
And, while reason his conduct approves,
The jargon of faction — disdains: —

O, listen awhile to the lay, —
The motive that prompts me to sing
Is the homage affection would pay —
To the man — I adore as my K ING !
How sweet are the tones of the lyre —
When duty engages the song!
When gratitude breathes on the wire,
And wafts the soft measures along!

The forest and furze-skirted plain
No longer afford me delight;
The landscape is varied in vain,
The objects grow dim on the sight:
I feel for the woes of the great,
My heart is with anguish opprest;
No language, alas! can relate
The sorrow that saddens my breast.

Thou bright-sun of healing return!
Thou source of sweet-comfort descend!
Our hearts shall with gratitude burn,
Till life, and till gratitude end:
Then, aloft in the mansions of air
Enraptured we'll strike the bold strings —
Loud paeans of glory prepare —
To the Lord — the protector of Kings.