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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=499097" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A poem, Sacred to the Glorious memory of King George</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let gaudy Mirth, to the blithe Carrol-song,<br>In loose light-measur'd Numbers dance along;<br>Thou, Muse no flow'ry Fancies here display,<br>Nor warble with the chearful Lark thy Lay.<br>In the dark Cypress Grove, or moss-grown Cell,<br>Where dreary Ravens haunt, would Sorrow dwell!<br>Where Ghosts, that shun the Day, come sweeping by,<br>Or fix in melancholy Frenzy's Eye;<br>Yet now she turns her Flight to Scenes of State,<br>Where Wealth and Grandeur weep the Frowns of Fate!<br>Wealth, Want, Rank, Power, here each alike partakes,<br>As the Shrub bends, the lofty Cedar shakes;<br>To her wide View is no Contraction known,<br>Tis Youth, 'tis Age, the Cottage and the Throne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>O Exclamation! lend thy sad Relief!<br>O Dodington! indulge the righteous Grief!<br>Distant, I've long beheld, in Thee, transcend<br>The Poet, Patron, Patriot, and the Friend.<br>Thou, who must live in Truth's remotest Page,<br>Form'd to delight, and dignify an Age;<br>Whose Words, whose Manners, and whose Mind declare,<br>Each Grace, each Moral, and each Muse are there;<br>Accept this Po'esy, void of venal Aim,<br>Made sacred by thy Royal Master's Name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But why, O Muse! are songful Hours thy Choice?<br>Lost is the Life, whose Glory lifts thy Voice!<br>George is no more! As at the doomful sound<br>Of the last Trump, all Nature feels the Wound!<br>Each private, each distinguish'd Virtue bleeds!<br>And what but Lamentation long succeeds?<br>Where wilt thou then for apt Allusions fly?<br>What Eloquence can throbbing Grief supply?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Late, golden Pleasures urg'd their shining Way,<br>With George they flourish'd, and with George decay!<br>Now dusky Woes, o'er varied Scenes extend,<br>Groans rise! Rocks echo! and chill Damps descend!<br>Grief strikes my View with ever-weeping Eyes,<br>At her wan Look, each lively Fancy dies.<br>In fear, in hope, dull rest, or rufling Storms,<br>Thus Woe besets us, tho in various Forms!<br>That dire Event of Youth's ungovern'd Rage!<br>That dear-bought Knowledge to declining Age!<br>In Want, in Scorn, it haunts an humble State,<br>Tis Care, 'tis Envy, to perplex the Great!<br>A Kingdom's Curse, it in Dissention brings;<br>Or heavier falls, when falls the best of Kings!<br>Worth it exalts, when aiming to debase;<br>Tis Virtue's Triumph, or 'tis Guilt's Disgrace!<br>It humbles Life, yet dignifies our End;<br>Reflection's Torment, yet Reflection's Friend!<br>Then let the Muse her meaning Notes resume,<br>And pay due Sorrows to the hallow'd Tomb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Was there a Glory, yet to Greatness known,<br>That not in Brunswick's Soul superiour shone?<br>Ill fare the Man, who, rob'd in purple Pride,<br>To wounded Worth has no Relief apply'd!<br>Benevolence makes Pow'r to Prudence dear,<br>When Pity weeps, what Pearl excells the Tear?<br>When not one Virtue glows to bless Mankind,<br>When Pride's cold Influence petrifies the Mind;<br>Let the Prince blaze with Jems!-in Wisdom's View,<br>An Emblem of the Rock, where once they grew!<br>Yet Springs gush out, to prove ev'n Rocks can flow<br>In Rills refreshful to the Vales below.<br>Why has he pow'r, and why no heart to chear,<br>Unseeing Eyes, and Ears that will not hear?<br>Swift, as his Bliss, shall his light Name decay,<br>Who, self-indulgent, sports his Hours away!<br>But, Oh!-what Love, what Honour shall he claim,<br>Whose Joy is Bounty, and whose Gift is Fame?<br>He (truly Great!) his useful Pow'r refines,<br>By him discover'd Worth exalted shines;<br>Exalted Worth, th'enlivening Act, repeats,<br>And draws new Virtues from obscure Retreats;<br>He, as the first, creative Influence, prais'd,<br>Smiles o'er the Beings, which his Bounty rais'd.<br>Such Dodington, thy Royal Master shin'd,<br>Such Thou, the Image of thy Monarch's Mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Nations were ballanc'd by his guardian Skill,<br>Like the pois'd Planets by the all-powerful Will.<br>Mark the Swede succour'd! mark th'aspiring CZAR!<br>Check'd are his Hopes, and shun'd the naval War.<br>By George the Austrian Eagle learns to tower,<br>While the proud Turk shakes conscious of her Power;<br>But when her Menace braves our envied Shore,<br>She trembles at the British Lyon's Roar;<br>Trembles, tho' aided by the Force of Spain,<br>And India's Wealth!-'gainst Brunswick, All how vain?<br>He bad thy Honour, Albion, foremost shine!<br>His was the Care, unmeasur'd Bliss was Thine!<br>Yet oft against his Virtue Faction rose!<br>An Angel, if thy Monarch, would have Foes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Come Charity, First-born of Virtue's Line!<br>Come meek-ey'd Mercy from the Seat divine!<br>Pure Temp'rance, Mistriss of a tranquil Mind,<br>By whom each sensual Passion stands confin'd!<br>Fix'd Fortitude, from whom fierce Peril flies!<br>By whom (O Soul of Action!) Empires rise!<br>Fair Justice, Author of a Godlike Reign!<br>Peace, Plenty, Liberty adorn thy Train!<br>Lov'd Prudence! Queen of Virtues! blissful Dame!<br>Parent, and Guide of each illustrious Aim!<br>From whose firm Step Confusion turns in Flight,<br>That shapeless Spawn of Anarchy and Night!<br>From whom kind Harmony deduc'd her Race,<br>Then Order, all in one united Grace!<br>And thou Religion! truest, heav'nly Friend!<br>Whom these alone establish, These defend!<br>Assemble to the wailing Muse's call!<br>Weep o'er the clay-cold Breast, that held you All!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>O Death, rouze all those Terrors to thy Aid,<br>Weak Fear, or wisest Valour wou'd evade!<br>Whether foul Pestilence in dire Array,<br>Red War, or pale-ey'd Famine point your Way,<br>What can you more than Kingdoms overthrow?<br>What aim'd you less, when Brunswick felt the Blow?<br>But mark!-Augustus, still above thy Rage,<br>Steps forth to give a second Golden Age.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Ye great Plantagenets! distinguish'd Race!<br>One greater meets you on celestial Space.<br>And thou, Nassau the fairest noblest Name!<br>Ev'n mid the Blest, superior still thy Flame!<br>Behold an Equal now!-How dear th'Embrace!<br>Oh, fly!-present him at the Throne of Grace!<br>'Tis done!-He's crown'd with a resplendent Joy,<br>Which Care shall never dim, nor Time destroy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>See!-from yon golden Cloud, amidst a Band<br>Of Angel-Pow'rs, once Patriots of the Land,<br>Soft-leaning o'er Britania's weeping Isle,<br>And shedding sweet, a fond, paternal Smile;<br>Pointing, the visionary Seraph cries,<br>Suspend thy Tears!-Behold a Sov'reign rise,<br>Thy Second George! whose Reign shall soon disclose<br>All that mine gave, and Heav'n, in Grace bestows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He said.-Again, with Majesty refin'd,<br>Up-wing'd to Realms of Bliss, th'Ætherial Mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Finis</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Savage">Richard Savage</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=499097" data-title="A poem, Sacred to the Glorious memory of King George de Richard Savage" data-description="Let gaudy Mirth, to the blithe Carrol-song,
In loose light-measur'd Numbers dance along;
Thou, Muse no flow'ry Fancies here display,
Nor warble with the chearful Lark thy Lay.
In the dark Cypress Grove, or moss-grown Cell,
Where dreary Ravens haun..."></div>
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