The blushing Muse conveys the humble plea
Of modest merit, Royal YORK, to thee:
Nor seeks by flattery base, or sordid art,

To soothe thy princely ear, or reach thy heart.
Tho' oft that Muse with kindling transport view'd
Thy laurels sprouting in the field of blood,
And joy'd to see, when glory's day begun,
The youthful eagle soar so near the sun.
By the slow Scheldt, or deep majestic Rhine,
The martial spirit of the BRUNSWICK line,
In ages past, as in the present days,

Has left rich trophies of undying bays:

Yet though they oft made hostile squadrons yield,
The heroes never view'd a brighter field,
Than where our wounded veteran prest the plain,
And Honour wept o'er WOLFE untimely slain !
When roughest warriors, all unus'd to melt,
Thro' every rank the soft contagion felt:
And Britain's Genius saw with cheerless eye,
O'er Abram's heights victorious standards fly:
Nor deem'd the dear-won glories of the day
Could her young Hero's matchless loss repay.
While Britain decks with martial wreaths thy brow,
What her lamented WOLFE was once-be thou!
The olive with the laurel garland blend,

The brave man's patron, and the good man's friend

1

Such GRANBY was, whose name to glory dear,
Still sweetly vibrates on the soldier's ear.
The Prince who made contending monarchs yield,
And Gallia's lilies cropt on Cressy's field,
Tho' his bold arm laid countless warriors low,
Shed pity's balm o'er every human woe;
And when he saw the hostile tumult cease,
Each milder virtue exercis'd in peace:

Hence his fair fame with clear and radiant blaze,

Spreads and grows brighter with the length of days."

Think not the veteran, who with humble pray'r
Yields his just cause to your indulgent care,
Would hope to touch with sacrilegious hand
The valued treasure of his native land;
Since his hard lot no earlier was discern'd,
He claims not all the meed so dearly earn'd;
But now by years and indigence opprest,
With modest patience forms this small request,
That he his aged limbs at peace may lay,
And calmly waste his fast declining day;
And when his soul aspires where WOLFE is fled,
He'll leave a soldier's blessing on your head.
See at your feet no common object bend,
A tender parent, and a generous friend :
To independence once he could aspire,
And cherish'd Want sat smiling by his fire

But anxious care and sad dejection now
Lurk in the furrows of his manly brow;
While poverty appears with haggard mien
To blast the peace of life's concluding scene:
His humble worth, mark'd by the Muse alone,
That Muse who lives unseen, and sings unknown;
Shall to brave YORK's indulgent ear convey,
While truth and pity consecrate the lay.

S

HEAR, princely youth, th' unletter'd rustic Muse,
Nor the poor widow's proffer'd gift refuse

Tho' mean the gift, yet form'd with matchless art,
That Muse its secret virtues shall impart :

When dark eclipse obscur'd the lab'ring moon,

The fleece was shorn that form'd the wond'rous boon ; Spun by a Sybil of the former age,

By Nature wise, by long experience sage;

Whose eyes first open'd on the circling sun,
When Namur was by thund'ring NASSAU won.
The bone that for a distaff serv'd the dame,
Was Clessamor's, of old Fingalian fame;
The sanguine stream that dyed the crimson part,
Once warm'd a Highland Hero's generous heart :
Gaunt death and giant danger stood aloof,
While grim Volkyrice form'd the dusky woof;
As o'er their looms in vision rapt they hung,
Thus in prophetic strains the virgins sung:-

Safe in every bloody field,

Whom with mystic art we shield,
While our zones enclasp each limb,
Danger vainly frowns on him.
Not the force of frantic Gaul
E'er can work our hero's fall,
While his free and towering mind
No ties but those of honour bind,
And mystic bands knit fast below,
Strike with terror every foe;

Throw the shuttle, strain the warp,

Fiery missive weapons sharp

Ne'er the favour'd Chief can wound,

Whose limbs our wond'rous gifts have bound,