Ode on the Birth of Miss E.w

The stars obscur'd from view retire, And silver Cynthia frighted flies: The glorious sun again restores His genial light to mortal eyes, And, swiftly born by flaming steeds, In radiant majesty proceeds.

But why, in such unusual notes, Hails the sweet lark the opening dawn? Why does the thrush so sweetly pour His grateful anthems to the morn? Why does the linnet's mellow strain So early charm the listening plain?

Nor thus the rose was wont to glow, Soft blooming in her verdant bed; Nor e'er the lilly's snowy pride, So sweetly hung the pensive head, Some glorious victory sure is won By noble Rutland's nobler son.

Dull bard (methinks my Clio cries) And little skill'd in nature's lore; Canst thou this sweet effect ascribe To such a horrid cause as war. The god of war in whirlwinds rides, And o'er the rapid storm presides.

What tho' on Weser's goary banks The British thunders fainter roll; What tho' each blast that wings the sky Bears their loud cries from pole to pole, Returning conquest thou shalt see, And Granby's arm thy country free.

Sublime, o'er all the powers of heaven, Venus triumphant sits to-day; Swift, thro' the trackless void of air, I saw her wing her rapid way. She flew to Norfolk's humble plains, With mirth to glad the jocund swains.

On Idus' top young Cupid stands, High o'er his head, with joyful air, He waves his bow, and golden dart, And smiling cries, ye swains beware, A nymph is born that shall sustain The honour of my mystic reign.

Behold, in Sylvia's infant eyes, Bright beams with mildest lustre play, 'Till years and growing strength shall wake Their glories into perfect day. 'Till then ye swains your hearts are free, But then ye must submit to me.

Her, in her tender years, will I From every early harm defend; And, as she grows in strength and age, Still shall I prove her constant friend, Her beauties guard from timeless death, And blasting sickness' poisonous breath.

And when three lustres shall be flown, And she in growing charms shall rise; Damon do thou prepare to sing, The daily conquests of her eyes; Thus shalt thou gain thy verdant lays, And happy wear it all thy days.