Nought can the genius of his works transcend,
But their fair purpose and important end;
To rouse the war for injur'd Europe's laws,
To steel the patriot in great Brunswick's cause;
With virtue's charms to kindle sacred love,
Or paint th' eternal bowers of bliss above.

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?
One let me join, all others may excel,

"How could a mortal essence think so well?"

But why so large in the great writer's praise?
More lofty subjects should my numbers raise :
In him (illustrious rivalry!) contend

The statesman, patriot, christian, and the friend!
His glory such it borders on disgrace

To say he sung the best of human race.

In joy once join'd, in sorrow now for years,
Partner in grief, and brother of my tears,
Tickell! accept this verse, thy mournful due;
Thou farther shalt the sacred theme pursue;
And as thy strain describes the matchless man,
Thy life shall second what thy muse began.
Tho' sweet in numbers, tho' a fire divine
Dart thro' the whole, and burn in ev'ry line,

Who strives not for that excellence he draws,
Is stain'd by fame, and suffers from applause.
But haste to thy illustrious task; prepare
The noble work well trusted to thy care,
The gift bequeath'd by Addison's command,
To Craggs made sacred by his dying hand.
Collect the labours, join the various rays,
The scatter'd light in one united blaze;
Then bear to him so true, so truly lov'd,
In life distinguish'd, and in death approv'd
Th' immortal legacy. He hangs awhile
In gen'rous anguish o'er the glorious pile;
With anxious pleasure the known page reviews,
And the dear pledge with falling tears bedews.
What tho' thy tears, pour'd o'er thy godlike friend,
Thy other cares for Britain's weal suspend?
Think not, O Patriot! while thy eyes o'erflow,
Those cares suspended for a private woe;
Thy love to him is to thy country shewn;
He mourns for her who mourns for Addison,

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.