With the following POEM of
THE bard who firft adorn'd our native tongue,
Tun'd to his British lyre this ancient song :
Which Homer might without a blush rehearse,
And leaves a doubtful palm in Virgil's verse :
He match'd their beauties, where they moft excel;
Of love fung better, and of arms as well.
Vouchfafe, illuftrious Ormond, to behold
What power the charms of beauty had of old;
Nor wonder if fuch deeds of arms were done,
Infpir'd by two fair eyes that sparkled like your own.
If Chaucer by the best idea wrought,
And poets can divine each other's thought,
The fairest nymph before his eyes he fet ;
And then the fairest was Plantagenet ;
Who three contending princes made their prize,
And rul'd the rival nations with her eyes:
Who left immortal trophies of her fame,
And to the nobleft order gave the name.
Like her, of equal kindred to the throne,
You keep her conquests, and extend your own:
As when the ftars in their etherial race,
At length have roll'd around the liquid fpace,
At certain periods they refume their place,
From the fame point of heaven their courfe advance,
And move in measures of their former dance;
Thus, after length of ages, the returns,
Reftor'd in you, and the fame place adorns ;
Or you perform her office in the fphere,
Born of her blood, and make a new platonic year.
O true Plantagenet, O race divine,
(For beauty ftill is fatal to the line,)
Had Chaucer liv'd that angel-face to view,
Sure he had drawn his Emily from you;
Or had you liv'd to judge the doubtful right, Your noble Palamon had been the knight; And conquering Thefeus from his fide had fent Your generous lord, to guide the Theban government. Time fhall accomplish that; and I shall fee A Palamon in him, in you an Emily. Already have the Fates your path prepar'd, And fure prefage your future fway declar'd : When weftward, like the fun, you took your way, And from benighted Britain bore the day, Blue Triton gave the signal from the shore, The ready Nereids heard, and fwam before To smooth the feas; a foft Etefian gale But juft infpir'd, and gently fwell'd the fail; Portunus took his turn, whose ample hand Heav'd his lighten'd keel, and funk the fand, And steer'd the facred veffel fafe to land.
The land, if not restrain'd, had met your way,
Projected out a neck, and jutted to the fea.
Hibernia, proftrate at your feet, ador'd
In you, the pledge of her expected lord;
Due to her ifle; a venerable name;
His father and his grandfire known to fame ;
Aw'd by that house, accuftom'd to command,
The sturdy Kerns in due subjection stand;
Nor bear the reins in any foreign hand.
At your approach, they crouded to the port;
And, fcarcely landed, you create a court:
As Ormond's harbinger, to you they run ;
For Venus is the promise of the fun.
The waste of civil wars, their towns destroy'd,
Pales unhonour'd, Ceres unemploy'd,
Were all forgot; and one triumphant day
Wip'd all the tears of three campaigns away.
Blood, rapines, maffacres, were cheaply bought,
So mighty recompence your beauty brought.
As when the dove returning bore the mark
Of earth reftor'd to the long labouring ark,
The relicks of mankind, fecure of rest,
Ope'd every window to receive the guest,
And the fair bearer of the meffage bless'd;
So, when you came, with loud repeated cries,
The nation took an omen from your eyes,
And God advanc'd his rainbow in the skies,
To fign inviolable peace restor'd ;
The faints with folemn shouts proclaim'd the new accord.
When at your fecond coming you ́appear,
(For I foretel that millenary year)
The sharpen'd fhare fhall vex the foil no more,
But earth unbidden fhall produce her ftore;
The land shall laugh, the circling ocean fmile,
And heaven's indulgence blefs the holy ifle.
Heaven from all ages has referv'd for you
That happy clime, which venom never knew;
Or if it had been there, your eyes alone
Have power to chafe all poifon, but their own.
Now in this interval, which fate has caft
Betwixt your future glories and your past,
This paufe of power, 'tis Ireland's hour to mourn;
While England celebrates your fafe return,
By which feem the feafons to command,
And bring our fummers back to their forfaken land.
The vanquifh'd ifle our leifure must attend, Till the fair bleffing we vouchfafe to send; Nor can we fpare you long, though often we may lend. The dove was twice employ'd abroad, before The world was dry'd, and she return'd no more.
Nor dare we truft fo foft a messenger,
New from her fickness, to that northern air;
Reft here a while your luftre to restore,
That they may fee you, as you shone before;
For yet, th' eclipfe not wholly paft, you wade
Through fome remains, and dimness of a fhade.
A fubject in his prince may claim a right,
Nor fuffer him with ftrength impair'd to fight;
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