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ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON,
THE NIGHT OF THE SEVENTEENTH OF MARCH, 1789.
When, long sequester'd from his throne,
George took his seat again, By right of worth, not blood alone,
Entitled here to reign,
Then loyalty, with all his lamps
New trimm'd, a gallant show ! Chasing the darkness and the damps,
Set London in a glow.
'Twas hard to tell, of streets or squares
Which form’d the chief display, These most resembling cluster'd stars,
Those the long milky way.
Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires,
And rockets flew, self-driven, To hang their momentary fires
Amid the vault of heaven.
So, fire with water to compare,
The ocean serves, on high Up-spouted by a whale in air,
To express unwieldy joy.
Had all the pageants of the world
In one procession join'd,
That heralds e'er design d,
For no such sight had England's queen
Forsaken her retreat, Where George, recover’d, made a scene
Sweet always, doubly sweet.
A witness undescried,
Was loved by all beside.
In aid of her design-
To veil a deed of thine !
Resolved to be unknown,
That night except her own. Arrived, a night like noon she sees,
And hears the million hum ; As all by instinct, like the bees,
Had known their sovereign come. Pleased she beheld, aloft portray'd
On many a splendid wall, Emblems of health and heavenly aid,
And George the theme of all.
So difficult to spell,
The night his city fell.
QUEEN's visiT TO LONDON
Soon watery grew
George ever drew from her.
Like those in fable feign'd,
Created and sustain'd.
Had been exerted none,
Save love of George alone.
And, through the cumbrous throng, Not else unworthy to be fear'd,
Convey'd her calm along. So, ancient poets say, serene
The sea-maid rides the waves, And fearless of the billowy scene
Her peaceful bosom laves. With more than astronomic eyes
She view'd the sparkling show; One Georgian star adorns the skies,
She myriads found below. Yet let the glories of a night
Like that, once seen, suffice, Heaven grant us no such future sight,
Such previous woe the price!
THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND.*
Muse_hide his name of whom I sing,
For his sake into scorn,
Nor place where he was born.
That such a man once was, may seem
Perchance may credit win)
* Written on reading the following in the obituary of the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1789.—" At Tottenham, John Ardesoif, Esq., a young man of large fortune, and in the splendour of his carriages and horses rivalled by few country gentlemen. His table was that of hospitality, where, it may be said, he sacrificed too much to conviviality; but, if he had his foibles he had his merits also, that far outweigbed them. Mr. A. was very fond of cock-fighting, and bad a favourite cock, upon which he had won many profitable matches. The last bet he laid upon this cock he lost; which so enraged him, that he had the bird tied to a spit and roasted alive before a large fire. The screams of the miserable animal were so affecting, that some gentlemen who were present attempted to interfere, which so enraged Mr. A., that he seized a poker, and with the most furious vehemence declared, that he would kill the first man who interposed; but, in the midst of his passionate asseverations, he fell down dead upon the spot. Such, we are assured, were the circumstances which attended the death of this great pillar of humanity.”
THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND.
For proof to man, what man may prove, If grace depart, and demons move
The source of guilt within.
This man (for since the howling wild
Wanted no good below,
If wealth can worth bestow.
In social talk and ready jest,
And qualities of mind,
Possess'd of every kind.
Methinks I see him powder'd red,
Wing'd broad on either side,
rosebud not so sweet ;
As luxury could provide.
Can such be cruel ? Such can be
A tyrant entertain'd
'Twixt birds to battle train'd.