Whilst two great Bards our grateful Country mourns,
And sheds the Debt of Sorrow o’er their Urns;
Transfus’d in thee, revive their generous Fires,
And Liberty again her Sons inspires;
Thrice happy Poet! in thy Numbers glow
The Elegance of Garth, and Force of Rowe.
From yon’ bright Arch thy spreading Fame they see,
And triumph in a Successor like thee.
Behold! to cure the Frenzy of the Age,
A second Cato rises on the Stage;
The same their Suff’rings, for a Cause the same,
Nor yields the English to the Roman Name.
Oppress’d with Noise, and drunken Party–Strife,
Where I sis flows, I waste a painful Life;
Stunn’d with the Terrors of impending Woes,
And Prelates to the Church insatiate Foes;
Of uncouth Logick Terms condemn’d to hear
The same pedantick Jargon all the Year,
Pro form
(Nicholas Amhurst)
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Based on Topics: Life Poems, Sadness Poems, Christianity Poems, Name Poems, Literature Poems, Age Poems, Poets Poems, English Poems, Debts PoemsBased on Keywords: stunn, prelates, rowe, logick, transfus, party-strife, pedantick