Nought can the genius of his works transcend, Where had'st thou room, great Author! where to roll The mighty theme of an immortal soul? Through paths unknown, unbeaten, whence were brought Thy proofs so strong for immaterial thought? "How could a mortal essence think so well?" But why so large in the great writer's praise? The statesman, patriot, christian, and the friend! To say he sung the best of human race. In joy once join'd, in sorrow now for years, Who strives not for that excellence he draws, ODES. OCEAN; AN ODE. Occasioned by his Majesty's Royal Encouragement of the Sea Service. To which is prefixed AN ODE TO THE KING. I THINK myself obliged to recommend to you a consideration of the greatest importance, and I should look upon it as a great happiness, if, at the beginning of my reign, I could see the foundation laid of so great and necessary a work as the increase and encouragement of our seamen in general, that they may be invited, rather than compelled by force and violence, to enter into the service of their country as oft as occasion shall require it; a consideration worthy the representatives of a people great and flourishing in trade and navigation. This leads me to mention to you the case of Greenwich Hospital, that care may be taken, by some addition to that fund, to render comfortable and effectual that charitable provision for the support and maintenance of our seamen, worn out, and become decrepit by age and infirmities, in the service of their country. Speech, Jan. 27. 1727-8. TO THE KING. OLD Ocean's praise Demands my lays; A truly British theme I sing; A theme so great I dare complete, And join with Ocean Ocean's King. To gods and kings, The poet sings; To kings and gods the muse is dear'; The muse inspires With all her fires; Begin, my soul! thy bold career. From awful state, From high debate, From morning-splendors of a crown, From homage pay'd,. From empires weigh'd From plans of blessings and renown; Great monarch! bow Thy beaming brow; To thee I strike the sounding lyre, With proud design In verse to shine; To rival Greek and Roman fire. The Roman ode Majestic flow'd, Its stream divinely clear and strong; Its sense and sound Thebes roll'd profound: The torrent roar'd and foam'd along. Let Thebes, nor Rome, So fam'd, presume To triumph o'er a northern isle ; Late time shall know The north can glow, If dread Augustus deign to smile. The work is done! The distant sun His smile supplies! exalts my voice Through earth's wide bound Shall George resound, My theme, by duty, and by choice. The naval crown Is all his own! Our fleet, if War or Commerce call, His will performs Thro' waves and storms And rides in triumph round the ball. |