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Illustrious Queen! The loyal Zeal excuse,
The fond Ambition, of a British Muse,
Who wou’d, in Merlin’s Praise, attempt to soar;
And in his Cave, Your Patronage implore:
Protection seek, beneath Your Royal Name;
And borrow Strength to rise, from Merlin’s Fame.
When Sol to distant Climes had giv’n the Day,
And shone on ours, with pale reflected Ray;
When Night with solemn pace, advanc’d her Head,
And o’er the Hemisphere her Mantle spread;
Yet thro’ the sable Gloom, those Orbs reveal’d,
Which in a Flood of Light, the Day conceal’d:
I, to a Summit, mus’d along, to see
Unnumber’d Suns, which crowd the Galaxy.
But Merlin’s Cave, had such Impressions made,
And Royal Honours, to his Mem’ry pay’d;
Pleas’d with Reflection, and involv’d in Thought;
Creative Fancy, soon this Vision wrought.
Then, lo! beneath a venerable Oak,
Which oft repell’d the Tempest’s furious stroke;
Whose spreading Arms, a wide Circumf’rence show,
And from whose Trunk, springs sacred Mistletoe:
Methought, I saw an awful Shade arise;
(Fit object only, for Poetic Eyes.)
The Form Majestic, and the Front serene;
Angles, and Circles, on his Robe were seen.
The Northern Crown, around his Temples shone,
And the Celestial Signs adorn’d his Zone.
The British Harp, seem’d to support one Hand;
While t’ other, gently wav’d the sacred Wand.
The Manes of great Merlin stood confess’d;
And my enraptur’d Fancy, thus address’d:
“Why will Melissa, Merlin’s praise decline,
Distinguish’d now, by Royal Caroline?
Believe not such, as wou’d asperse my Name;
But trust those Authors, who defend my Name;
You, to the Royal Grotto, touch’d the Lyre,
And durst in God-like Newton’s Praise aspire.
Why shou’d not British Merlin, grace thy Page,
In Mathematics, once esteem’d a Sage?
A well-try’d Genius, cou’d transmit to Fame
My honour’d Modern Cave, and Ancient Name:
Might, to my royal guest, re-touch the String,
And as he sung the Saint, the Prophet sing.
But since the Cambrian Bards, neglect the Muse;
Melissa’s humbler Strains, I’ll not refuse.
“Six Centuries, twice told, are now complete,
Since Merlin liv’d on this terrestrial Seat.
Knowledge appear’d, but dawning to my Sight;
She blaz’d on Newton with Meridian Light.
Yet the faint Glimm’rings, which my Genius taught,
Beyond the ken, of human Art, were thought.
What I by mere mechanic Pow’rs achiev’d,
Th’ Effects of Magic, then, by most believ’d.
To Stonehenge, let the Sons of Art, repair,
And View the Wonders, I, erected There.
Try, if their Skill improv’d, Mine, e’er can foil;
Restore the Giants-Dance t’ Hibernian Soil.
Nor in Geometry, excell’d alone;
But other Sciences to me were known.
I study’d Nature, through her various Ways;
And chanted to this Harp, prophetic Lays.
To Cader Ydris oft, I took my Way;
Rose with the Sun, toil’d up th’ Ascent all Day;
But scarce could reach, the Mountains tow’ring height,
E’er Radiant Vesper, usher’d in the Night.
The Summit gain’d, I sought with naked Eye,
To penetrate, the Wonders of the Sky.
No Telescopic Glass known in that Age,
To assist the Optics of the curious Sage.
Though lov’d Astronomy oft charm’d my Mind,
I now erroneous, all my Notions find.
I thought bright Sol, around our Globe had run;
Nor knew Earth’s Motion, nor the central Sun.
And had I known; cou’d I Belief have gain’d,
When Ignorance, and Superstition reign’d?
“Unseen by me, Attraction’s mighty Force,
And how fierce Comets, run their stated Course;
Surprising Scenes! by Heav’n reserv’d in store,
For its own Fav’rite Newton, to explore.
With Faculties enlarg’d, He’s gone to prove
The Laws, and Motions of yon Worlds above;
And the vast Circuits of th’ Expanse survey,
View Solar Systems in the Milky Way.
My Spirit too through Ether wings its Flight,
Discov’ring Truths, deny’d my mortal Sight.
Transported hovers, o’er my native Isle,
Where Arts improve, and Peace and Plenty smile.
“But lo! Bootes drives his radiant Car,
High on its Course, around the Polar Star,
And fiery Draco, drops his starry Crest;
‘Tis time, thou should’st indulge thy needful Rest.
Yet stay, Melissa! – try this fav’rite Lyre;
And Merlin will the grateful Song inspire.
To Learning’s Patroness, my Thanks convey;
And humbly at her Feet, present thy Lay.
Conscious, how mean, and how unskill’d thy Hand,
I see the tremble, at my kind Command.
Let my Persuasion, once, thy Fears beguile;
The gracious Queen, will condescend to smile.
For Merlin’s sake, will give Melissa leave,
To touch the Strings, in my much-honour’d Cave.
“And Wallia’s gen’rous Prince, will not disdain
What I foretell; – tho’ low, thy Lyric Strain.”
2 TO THE QUEEN.
Hail! Guardian of Britannia’s fate,
Whose Worth transcends the Regal State!
Thee! whom propitious Heav’n design’d,
The Guard, and Glory, of thy Kind.
E’en Justice, wou’d her Pow’r Divine,
Consummate Queen! to Thee resign;
Give up her Sword to thy Command,
And trust her Balance in thy Hand.
Let happy Britons learn to know,
The Queen of Virtues, reigns below!
The Sciences, O Royal Fair!
Improve thro’ your auspicious Care,
Your Favour can restore to Fame,
From dark Oblivion, Merlin’s Name.
The Muses all, to you resort,
As to their own Apollo’s Court.
Thrice happy Britons! Wisdom’s seen
Presiding in our matchless Queen!
Astrea, and Minerva, join
To form one finish’d Caroline.
3 MERLIN’S PROPHECY.
Humbly inscrib’d to H.R.H. the PRINCE OF WALES.
Royal Frederick! Britain’s Pride!
Prince, for future Safety giv’n;
For Thee’s decree’d a Virtuous Bride,
Choicest Gift of bounteous Heav’n.
To reward thy filial Duty,
To perpetual Brunswick’s Race,
Wit, and Learning, Youth, and Beauty,
Heav’n prepares for thy Embrace.
No blust’ring Storms, affright the Fair,
No raging Billows, dare to rise;
Safe by Heav’n’s, and George’s Care,
May She bless our longing Eyes!
Neptune, sooth old Father Ocean,
Mild Favonius, waft thy Gales;
May One repel each threat’ning Motion,
For Albion, t’ other swell the Sails!
Behold! She comes, enrich’d with Charms,
Indulgent to thy plighted Love!
Receive the Blessing to thy Arms,
And Hymen’s hallow’d Rites approve.
Illustrious Pair! wou’d You in Story,
Thro’ succeeding Ages shine?
Wou’d You to tread the Paths to Glory?
Follow George, and Caroline.
And lo! I see a glorious Race,
Successive rising to Renown!
Decree’s Britannia’s Throne to grace;
And give new Lustre to a Crown.
Ordain’d, to wield the Sceptre Royal,
With righteous Pow’r, and gentle Sway;
And rule o’er Britons, Brave, and Loyal,
‘Till Heav’n, and Earth, shall melt away.
(Jane Brereton)
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