Arife, O Lord! and hear thy people's call!
• Nor for one man let three great kingdoms fall!
O that my blood may glut the barbarous rage
• Of Freedom's foes, and England's ills affuage!
• Grant but that prayer, I ask for no repeal,
A willing victim for my country's weal !
• With rapt'rous joy the crimson ftream fhall flow, • And my heart leap to meet the friendly blow!
< But should the fiend, tho' drench'd with human gore, Dire Bigotry, infatiate, thirst for more;
• And, arm'd from Rome, seek this devoted land ;
• Death in her eye, and bondage in her hand :
• Blast her fell purpose ! blast her foul defires!
• Break fhort her fword, and quench her horrid fires!
Raise up fome champion, zealous to maintain
• The facred compact by which monarchs reign!
• Wife to foresee all danger from afar,
And brave to meet the thunders of the war!
• Let pure religion, not to forms confin'd,
• And love of freedom, fill his generous mind!
Warm let his breaft with sparks celeftial glow,
Benign to man, the tyrant's deadly foe!
• While finking nations rest upon his arm,
• Do thou the great Deliverer fhield from harm!
• Infpire his councils! aid his righteous fword!
Till Albion rings with Liberty reftor'd!
• Thence let her years in bright fucceffion run!
• And Freedom reign coeval with the fun !'
"Tis done, my Cavendish; Heav'n has heard my pray'r: So speaks my heart, for all is rapture there.
To Belgia's coaft advert thy ravish'd eyes,
That happy coaft whence all our hopes arife!
Behold the Prince, perhaps thy future king!
From whofe green years matureft bleffings fpring;
Whose youthful arm, when all-o'erwhelming power
Ruthless march'd forth his country to devour,
With firm-brac'd nerve repell'd the brutal force,
And flopp'd th' unweildy giant in his course.
Great William, hail! who fceptres could defpife,
And fpurn à crown with unretorted eyes!
O when will princes learn to copy thee,
And leave mankind, as Heaven ordain'd them, free!
Hafte, mighty chief! our injur'd rights restore!
Quick Spread thy fails for Albion's longing fhore!
Hafte, mighty chief! ere millions groan enflav’d;
And add three realms to one already fav'd!'
While Freedom lives, thy memory shall be dear,
And reap fresh honours each returning year;
Nations preferv'd fall yield immortal fame,
And endless ages blefs thy glorious name!
Then fhall my Cavendish, foremoft in the field,
By juftice arm'd, his fword confpicuous wield;
While willing legions croud around his car,
And rush impetuous to the righteous war.
On that great day be every chance defy'd,
And think thy Ruffel combats by thy fide;
Nor, crown'd with victory, cease thy generous toil,
Till firmeft peace fecure this happy isle.
Ne'er let thine honeft, open heart, believe
Profeffions fpecious, forg'd but to deceive;
Fear may extort them, when refources fail,
But O! reject the baseless, flattering tale.
Think not that promises or oaths can bind,
With folemn ties, a Rome-devoted mind;
Which yields to all the holy juggler faith,
And deep imbibes the bloody, damning faith.
What tho' the bigot raise to heaven his eyes,
And call th' Almighty witness from the skies!
Soon as the wifh'd occafion he explores,
To plant the Roman crofs on England's fhores,
All, all will vanish, while his priests applaud,
And faint the perjurer for the pious fraud !
Far let him fly thefe freedom-breathing climes,
And feek proud Rome, the fofterer of his crimes;
There let him ftrive to mount the Papal chair,
And scatter empty thunders in the air,
Grimly prefide in fuperftition's school,
And curse those kingdoms he could never rule.
Here let me paufe, and bid the world adieu,
While heaven's bright mansions open to my view!
Yet ftill one care, one tender care remains;
My bounteous friend, relieve a father's pains!
Watch o'er my son, inform his waxen youth,
And mould his mind to virtue and to truth;
Soon let him learn fair liberty to prize,
And envy him who for his country dies;
In one short sentence to comprize the whole,
Transfufe to his the virtues of thy foul
Preferve thy life, my too, too generous friend,
Nor feek with mine thy happier fate to blend!
Live for thy country, live to guard her laws;
Proceed, and profper, in the glorious cause ;
While I, tho' vanquish'd, fcorn the field to fly,
But boldly face my foes, and bravely die!
Let princely Monmouth courtly wiles beware,
Nor truft too far to fond paternal care ;
Too oft dark deeds deform the midnight cell,
Heaven only knows how noble Essex fell!
Sidney yet lives, whofe comprehenfive mind
Ranges at large thro' fyftems unconfin'd;
Wrapt in himself, he fcorns the tyrant's power,
And hurls defiance even from the Tower;
With tranquil brow awaits th' unjust decree,
And, arm'd with virtue, looks to follow me.
Cavendish, farewel! May Fame our names entwine!
Thro' life I lov'd thee-dying, I am thine;
With pious rites let duft to duft be thrown,
And thus infcribe my monumental ftone:
Here RUSSEL lies, enfranchis'd by the grave!
He priz'd his birthright, nor would live a flave.
• Few were his words, but honest and fincere,
• Dear were his friends, his country still more dear;
In parents, children, wife, fupremely blefs'd,
• But that one paffion swallow'd all the reft;
To guard her freedom was his only pride;
• Such was his love, and for that love he dy'd.
Yet fear not thou, when Liberty displays
Her glorious flag, to fteer his course to praise;
For know, (whoe'er thou art that read'ft his fate,
And think'ft, perhaps, his fufferings were too great!)
Blefs'd as he was, at her imperial call,
Wife, children, parents, he refign'd them all; • Each fond affection then forfook his foul,
• And Amor Patriæ occupied the whole;
• In that great cause he joy'd to meet his doom,
• Blefs'd the keen axe, and triumph'd o'er the tomb !"
The hour draws near-But what are hours to me?
Hours, days, and years hence undistinguish'd flee!
Time, and his glass, unheeded påfs away,
Abforb'd and loft in one vast flood of day!
On Freedom's wings my foul is borne on high,
And foars exulting to it's native sky!
BE
B. What dreary profpects, round us fife;
EHOLD, my fair, where'er we rove,
The naked hill, the leaflefs grove,
The hoary ground, the frowning skies!
Y the lyre of Apollo, the locks of the mufes,
And the pure lucid ftream Aganippe produces,
My Ellis, I love thee, then pay me in kind,
Let the thought of a friend never flip from your mind;
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