But I, who rarely spend my time
In paying court or spinning rhyme,
Who cannot from the high abodes
Call down; at will, a troop of Gods,
Must in the plain prosaic way
The wishes of my soul convey.
May Heaven our Monarch's choice approve,
May he be blest with mutual love,
And be as happy with his Queen
As with my Chloe I have been,
When wandering thro' the beechen grove,
She sweetly smil'd and talk'd of love!
And O! that he may live to see
A son as wise and good as he;
And may his consort grace the throne
With virtues equal to his own!
Our courtly bards will needs be telling,
That she's like Venus, or like Helen;
I wish that she may prove as fair
As Egremont and Pembroke are;
For tho' by sages 'tis confest,
That beauty's but a toy at best;
Yet 'tis, methinks, in married life,
A pretty douceur with a wife:
And may the minutes as they fly
Strengthen still the nuptial tye,
While hand in hand thro' life they go,
Till love shall into friendship grow;
For tho' these blessings rarely wait
On regal pomp, and tinsel'd state,
Yet happiness is virtue's lot,
Alike in palace and in cot:
'Tis true, the grave affairs of state
With little folks have little weight;
Yet I confess my patriot heart
In Britain's welfare bears its part;
With transport glows at George's name,
And triumphs in its country's fame:
With hourly pleasure I can sit
And talk of Granby, Hawke, and Pitt;
And whilst I praise the good and brave,
Disdain the coward and the knave.
At growth of taxes others fret,
And shudder at the nation's debt;
I ne'er the fancied ills bemoan,
No debts disturb me, but my own.
What! tho' our coffers sink, our trade
Repairs the breach which war has made;
And if expences now run high,
Our minds must with our means comply.
Thus far my politics extend,
And here my warmest wishes end,
May Merit flourish, Faction cease,
And I and Europe live in Peace!