A poem on Her Majesty's birth-day: By Stephen Duck.
O YOU the Monarch's Bliſs, the Muſe's Friend!
Accept the tribute Duty bids me ſend:
'Tis what the Bard ſhou'd long before have paid,
But fearful to aſpire, has long delay'd.
Phoebus alone can Phoebus' Chariot guide,
The Youth who dar'd to drive it, daring dy'd.
But trembles to attempt a Theme ſo Great!
Yet warm with Gratitude, wou'd fain diſplay
Her Zeal to you, on this auſpicious Day.
To you! whoſe gracious Goodneſs plumes her Wings,
By whom ſhe lives, by whom inſpir'd ſhe ſings;
Long may ſhe Celebrate your Sacred BIRTH;
Long may you ſtay from Heav'n to bleſs the Earth:
To Chear the Royal Sov'reign of our ISLE;
Increaſe his Joys, or ſoften all his Toil,
Who now, while Death in purple Triumph reigns,
And ſanguine Floods pollute the diſtant Plains,
Watchful o'er Britain's Fate employs his Car,
Or wiſely to avert, or bravely meet the War.
O Glorious QUEEN! by Nature form'd to bring
The ſweeteſt Comfort to the Juſteſt KING:
Let proud Oppreſſors, who abuſe their Pow'r,
Hear groaning Subjects curſe their natal Hour.
Your Soul with Thoughts of making Thouſands bleſs'd;
Whoſe godlike Bounties, to the Wretched, ſhow,
You're only Pow'rful to relieve their Woe.
What tho' the Muſe old Annals ſhould explore,
Mark all our Queens, and trace their Virtues o'er?
Where cou'd ſhe find ſo much exalted Senſe,
Nobly employ'd like your's, in Truth's Defence?
You ſtrive to make the Seeds of Virtue grow,
To ſpread the Light which Heav'n reveal'd below:
Yet, free from ſuperſtitious Zeal, incline
To make the Rays of moral Goodneſs ſhine,
Supporting thoſe, who firm to Truth, defend
That firſt fix'd Law, on which all Laws depend.
Beneath your Influence, Art and Science rear
Their ſacred Heads, and flouriſh by your Care;
This Truth let Oxford's pompous Dome proclaim,
Which boaſts the Honour of a * Royal Name;
Riſing with Bounties of a Gen'rous QUEEN.
O! had the Muſe there fledg'd her Infant Wing,
And early taſted of that learned Spring;
She then had ſoar'd in more Heroic lays,
In more majeſtic Numbers ſung your Praiſe,
But fearful now, muſt quit the glorious Theme,
Muſt leave the Architect to ſpeak your Fame,
His Art, ſhall there, another Athens ſhew,
And there, another GUARDIAN Pallas YOU.